by Chang, Jung
The last leg of Cixi’s three-month journey was by train – travelling on the northern section of the great Beijing–Wuhan Railway, whose history was almost as chequered as Cixi’s own. The year before, the tracks outside Beijing had been uprooted by the Boxers and a number of stations torched. The railway was repaired by the foreign invaders, who then handed it over to her government, with a royal carriage for her use. She rode to Beijing in style on 7 January 1902, and entered the city through the southern gates, which had hitherto been reserved for the emperor: first the Qianmen, whose massive gate-tower had caught fire during the Boxer chaos, but had since been rebuilt; then, further north, the Gate of the Great Qing. But she stopped short at the front gate to the Forbidden City itself, and turned to go round and enter the harem through the back gate. For a woman to enter the front section of the Forbidden City would have been seen as such a shocking afront to the sacredness of the monarch that Cixi made sure she did not break this rule.
Inside the Forbidden City, one of her first acts was to pray to the ancestors of the Qing dynasty. And as soon as arrangements were made, she took the court to the Eastern Mausoleums to pay homage to the buried ancestors and to beg their protection. While there, she spotted a little pet monkey that belonged to an official and was hopping on his tent. She expressed affection for the monkey and got herself a ‘tribute’. It was soon leaping about wearing a beautiful yellow silk waistcoat.
But before all else, the day after she returned from exile Cixi honoured Imperial Concubine Pearl, whom she had had drowned in a well just before she fled. This was an act of contrition. It was also an attempt to make amends to her adopted son, who had given her his cooperation over several years, especially during the exile. Above all, perhaps, Cixi was making a gesture to the Western powers, who had been appalled by the murder. She was determined to win their goodwill. It would make an enormous difference to the country, and to the way she herself would be treated. The yearly payment of the Boxer Indemnity could vary considerably, depending on the exchange rates, and, with goodwill, the foreign powers could adopt the method of calculation that was advantageous to China. Besides, her transformation of the empire needed the cooperation of a friendly international community.
27 Making Friends with Westerners (1902–7)
FOR HER ENTRY into Beijing, Cixi broke with tradition and announced that foreigners were welcome to watch the royal procession. Diplomats were invited to a special building, which allowed a good view of the proceedings. And others stood on the city walls. One of them took a photograph of the empress dowager outside her sedan-chair, about to enter a hall. In the picture she is turning round to wave at them from below, a handkerchief in her hand, her heavily embroidered robe twirling. Waving to spectators was unprecedented: Cixi had encountered it in the descriptions of foreign monarchs written by the travellers she had dispatched abroad.
Twenty days after her return, on 27 January 1902, the diplomatic corps had an audience with Cixi and Emperor Guangxu. There was no silk screen and she sat on a throne. The reception was, in the words of Sarah Conger, ‘dignified, and most respectful’. A few days later, Cixi gave another reception for the diplomats’ families. As she was unable to socialise with men, her effort to make friends focused on Western women. ‘The Court is over-doing it in civility,’ wrote Robert Hart in amusement; ‘not only will Empress Dowager receive Ministers’ wives, but also Legation children!’
On the day of the reception the sky was unusually clear, free of the frequent blinding sandstorms. Before the audience, Sarah Conger, the doyenne of the diplomatic ladies and a devout and forgiving Christian, gathered up the women and requested them to be courteous. Inside a hall of the Forbidden City, Cixi sat behind a long altar-like table, upon which lay a coral sceptre. She smiled in recognition at Sarah Conger, who had been at her previous reception three years earlier and had subsequently been caught up in the siege of the legations. Throughout the Boxer turmoil, America had shown most understanding to China and to Cixi. Now Mrs Conger addressed Cixi in a friendly manner, and Cixi replied in the same spirit, with a written speech read out by Prince Ching, who had stepped up to the throne and, on his knees, taken it from Cixi’s hand. All the ladies and children were presented to Cixi, who treated them each with a sort of handshake. They were then presented to Emperor Guangxu, who took the hand of each lady.
After the formal presentations were over, as soon as the group was ushered into another hall for an informal reception, Cixi asked for Sarah Conger, who wrote: ‘She took my hands in both of hers, and her feelings overcame her. When she was able to control her voice, she said, “I regret, and grieve over the late troubles. It was a grave mistake, and China will hereafter be a friend to foreigners. No such affair will again happen. China will protect the foreigner, and we hope to be friends in the future.”’ This was both a performance and a sincere declaration. At the banquet that followed, a reconciliation ritual was enacted. Mrs Conger described the scene: Cixi ‘took her glass of wine, and we did likewise. She placed her glass in my left hand, gracefully pressed my two hands together, so that the glasses touched, and said, “United.” She then took my glass, leaving me hers, and raised the glass to all, and all responded.’ Cixi ‘again and again assured me that such troubles as those of the past two years should never be repeated. Her manner was thoughtful, serious in every way, and ever mindful of the comfort and pleasure of her guests. Her eyes are bright, keen, and watchful that nothing may escape her observation. Her face does not show marks of cruelty or severity; her voice is low, soft, and attractive; her touch is gentle and kind.’ Clearly, Cixi had made the intended impression.
Cixi and her foreign guests then sat down to eat, which was something extraordinary, as court rules required her fellow diners to stand. Her experiment, however, proved to be unpleasant. On one side of her was seated the ‘first lady’ of the British Legation, Lady Susan Townley – the wife of the First Secretary, as the legation minister, Sir Ernest Satow, was unmarried. Lady Townley had come to China in the aftermath of the Boxer unrest with ‘a decided aversion from the thought of being surrounded by Chinese servants – I imagined they would be dirty and smelly, with repulsive hands’.fn1 She now leaned towards Cixi and asked her for a gift, the bowl from which the empress dowager was eating. Lady Townley knew well that court etiquette prescribed that no one should share a sovereign’s dishes. Her request could only be perceived as an insult. Later Cixi told a lady-in-waiting: ‘These foreigners seem to have the idea that the Chinese are ignorant and that therefore they need not be so particular as in European Society.’ But Cixi was also aware that many Westerners hated her because of the Boxers. She swallowed the insult and obliged Lady Townley (who later boasted of her ‘unique present’). Cixi continued to be amiable to the lady, who described herself as the empress dowager’s ‘Prime Favourite’. The affability did not diminish even after Lady Townley was caught trying to help herself to more treasures from the palace. A fellow Westerner who had seen her asking Cixi for the bowl wrote, ‘On another occasion the lady referred to above took an ornament from a cabinet and was carrying it away when the palace maid in attendance asked her to put it back, saying that she was responsible for everything in the room and would be punished if it was missing.’ Cixi showed no ill feelings towards Lady Townley, partly, of course, because she was a representative of Britain. But perhaps the empress dowager also discerned something more sympathetic in Townley. On her way to China in a steamer, Townley had seen a young girl being subjected to foot-binding and was full of pity for ‘the poor little children’.
The banquet was the only one Cixi attended, but it marked the beginning of her frequent socialising with Western women. As she told the diplomatic wives at the end of the meal: ‘I hope that we shall meet oftener and become friends by knowing one another better.’ As gift-giving (especially gifts of a personal nature) was an essential way of expressing goodwill in China, Cixi showered the wives with presents. On this occasion, she took Sarah Conger’s hands in
hers and, ‘taking from one of her fingers a heavy, carved gold ring set with an elegant pearl, she placed it upon one of mine; then from her wrists she took choice bracelets and placed them upon my wrists. To each lady she presented gifts of great value. The children and the interpreters were also kindly remembered.’
Back in the legations, the men decided that Cixi was trying to bribe their women, and requested the court not to give gifts in the future. Robert Hart remarked: ‘The Audiences have all gone off so well that the critics consider them too sweet and so suspect insincerity.’ They accused Cixi of trying ‘to wheedle the foreigners, and curry favour, so that she might receive better treatment at the hands of the Powers’. This was undoubtedly one of her motives. But, as Sarah Conger put it: ‘This historic day cannot do harm . . .’
Other goodwill gestures followed, not least invitations to the Western and Eastern Mausoleums, the Summer Palace and even the Forbidden City. When visitors came to her quarters, gifts from their countries would be prominently displayed. Portraits of the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia stood on a table when the wife of the Russian minister called. And two steel-engravings of Queen Victoria, one of her in regal array, and the other with Prince Albert, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, hung on the wall to catch the eyes of the British, alongside a music-box and other ornaments from the queen. Lots of European clocks would replace her usual display of white and green jade statues of Buddha.
Cixi’s second meeting with the diplomatic wives was, for Sarah Conger, ‘full of womanly significance’. The empress dowager took the most extraordinary step of inviting the foreign ladies into the privacy of her bedroom. ‘When we were taken into the most private room, Her Majesty seemed greatly pleased and waved her hand toward a richly draped and cushioned k’ang that reached across one end of the long room.’ The k’ang – a heated brick bed and seat – was Cixi’s favourite place to sit. There, as if out of mischief, she gave the women more presents:
Her Majesty got upon the k’ang and motioned for me and others to do the same. She took a small jade baby boy from the shelf, tucked it into my hand, and with actions interpreted her unspoken words, “Don’t tell.” I took the dear little thing home, and I prize it. It showed good will, and I do not intend to let go of that thought . . . I was truly grateful that I could see the good spirit manifested in that woman whom the world has so bitterly condemned.
More gifts were to come. Knowing Mrs Conger’s fondness for the Pekinese, a ‘beautiful little black dog’ arrived in the American Legation in a ‘basket with red satin pad’, complete with ‘a gold-mounted harness with a long silk cord and gold hook’. For Mrs Conger’s newborn granddaughter, Cixi sent over ‘yellow silk boxes containing two beautiful jade ornaments . . . her first gifts sent to a foreign little one’.
Every now and then potted peonies and orchids from her gardens, baskets of fruits from her orchards, boxes of cakes and balls of tea would arrive at the legations, bearing Cixi’s good wishes. For the Chinese New Year, fish – a most auspicious symbol as it shares its sound with ‘abundance’ – would be delivered to the diplomatic families. The American Legation received a colossal specimen: almost 3 metres long and weighing 164 kilos. In her very Chinese way, Cixi tried to build good relations, and in Sarah Conger she made one most valuable friend, who undoubtedly eased her dealings with the foreign powers. The friendship helped to generate sympathy for China in America, and facilitated America’s return of the Boxer Indemnity.
In her goodwill offensive, Cixi encouraged other Chinese women to make friends with Westerners. Soon after the first reception, Sarah Conger, who was sympathetic to the Chinese (‘While there is much that I find undesirable, I also find in their characters much to admire . . . I really wish to know them. I like the Chinese’), invited some court ladies to the American Legation for dinner. Cixi’s adopted daughter, the Imperial Princess, acted as her representative and headed the guest list of eleven. Known to be ‘plain in appearance, dignified in bearing’ and noted for ‘making the most graceful courtesy of any lady in the court’, she arrived in a yellow sedan-chair. The other princesses were in red chairs, and those of lesser ranks were in green, with the interpreter in an official mule-cart. They came with 481 servants, including eight eunuchs each and sixty soldiers at the gate. For the Chinese, the more senior a person was in rank, the larger the number of servants. Mrs Conger exclaimed: ‘What a sight!’ The Imperial Princess brought greetings from Cixi, who ‘hopes that the pleasant relations that now exist between America and China will always continue as they now are’. When the ladies left, ‘the grand procession passed from under the American flag and into the streets of the Dragon flag . . . all Chinese were kept from the streets through which the procession passed, but thousands were standing elsewhere enjoying the sight.’
Before long the ladies of the court invited the foreign ladies in return, and Mrs Conger went with nearly 100 servants ‘to conform to Chinese custom’. Thereafter the women began to mingle and became friends. In early 1903 Mrs Conger wrote about her recent life to her daughter, who had been with her in China earlier:
Do you note the departure from old-time customs and the opening, little by little, of the locked doors? I detect and appreciate it . . . the wives of high officials, both Manchu and Chinese, are opening their doors to us, and I am entertaining them in return. My former ideas of Chinese ladies are undergoing a great change . . . I find that they are interested in the affairs of their own country and also in the affairs of other countries. They study the edicts and read their newspapers. At times I refer to items and events to bring out their ideas and I find that they have much information to give.
‘I find that we have many thoughts and ideas in common,’ Mrs Conger discovered. The Chinese women had read books translated by missionaries. They ‘spoke of Columbus’s discovery of America, of the landing of the Pilgrims, of our troubles with England, the seceding of the colonies, of our Declaration of Independence . . .’ One was ‘greatly interested in Professor Jenks’ monetary system’ – a system that the professor of Cornell University, Jeremiah Jenks, was proposing for China that year. The American minister, Edwin H. Conger was as impressed as his wife. When an American admiral asked Mrs Conger, ‘What do you ladies talk about – dress and jewels?’, he replied, ‘Quite the contrary. They talk about the Manchurian troubles, political questions, and many things pertaining to their Government.’ At least some of the court ladies must have been told to do their homework, as Cixi knew Westerners respected women with intelligence and opinions.
Sarah Conger and Cixi met often and had long conversations. Cixi told the American about her experiences in 1900, relating ‘in a vivid way the incidents of her flight and that of the Court; she told me of their trials and privations . . . Her Majesty cited to me many things of which I thought her totally ignorant.’ Cixi listened as well as talked: she was ‘deeply interested in hearing of her China as I really saw it’. When they met after Conger had travelled extensively in the country in 1905, the American lady described her impressions: ‘The Chinese are reaching out for foreign ideas as never before . . . The whole world detects the dawn of broader thoughts . . .’ Sarah Conger was giving Cixi something most valuable to the empress dowager: feedback from a Westerner about the monumental reforms she had put in train.
Conger felt ‘indignant over the horrible, unjust caricatures’ of her friend in the foreign press, and ‘a growing desire that the world might see her more as she really is’. So she gave interviews to American newspapers and described Cixi ‘as I have many times seen her’. The American’s portrayal of Cixi and the fact that they had become close friends created a new, sympathetic image of the empress dowager, especially in the United States. The press began to acknowledge her reforms, although they habitually gave credit to Mrs Conger, claiming that ‘Through Mrs Conger’s influence numerous changes have taken place . . .’ ‘China’s Woman Ruler Americanizing Her Empire’ read one headline. However grudgingly, the papers began to present
Cixi as a progressive, one sketch even showing her in a fighting posture with a captain reading: ‘She orders women’s feet unbound.’ (The unbinding of women’s feet was one of Cixi’s first edicts when she returned to Beijing.) Sarah Conger was instrumental in bringing Cixi a better press in the West.
Cixi was appreciative and felt genuine friendship for the American lady. In 1905, the Congers had to leave China for another post. Sarah was decorated with a most exalted title and was presented with beautiful farewell presents. Before departure, she called on the palace to say goodbye to Cixi and, after the formalities, ‘we were seated and as one woman with another, the Empress Dowager and I conversed’. Then, ‘Our good-byes were said, and as I was leaving Her Majesty’s presence I was asked to return. Her interpreter placed in my hand a “good-luck stone” – a blood jade, with these words: “Her Majesty has taken the good-luck stone from her person and wishes to give it to you to wear during your long journey across the great waters, that you may safely arrive in your honorable country.”’ Unremarkable in appearance, this piece of jade had been passed down through generations of the Qing dynasty, and had been worn by Cixi herself during her reign, as a talisman that would protect her in her tribulations. To part with such an object was no small thing. To do so impulsively showed Cixi’s real feelings. The Congers continued to receive her messages after they were gone.
In her effort to improve Cixi’s reputation in the West, Sarah Conger conceived the idea of having the empress dowager’s portrait painted by an American artist for the St Louis Exposition in 1904. Cixi agreed, at considerable psychological cost. Traditionally, portraits were only painted of dead ancestors (although there were watercolours depicting daily life), and Cixi, for all her departures from convention, was superstitious. But she did not want to turn down her friend’s kindness – and she also welcomed the chance to promote her image.