Prince I and Sushun, well aware of Yehonala's popularity with the troops, and fearing what might happen if she reached Pekin first, arranged to have her and Sakota ambushed and murdered on the journey. But the faithful Jung Lu learned of the plot and set off from Jehol by night, overtook the royal ladies on the road, escaped the ambush, and brought them safely to the capital, where Yehonala lost no time in raising support; Sakota, as usual, was content to stay in the background. Thus when Prince I and the regents finally arrived with the cortege they were welcomed by an urbane Yi Concubine who thanked them graciously, dismissed them from the regency, and had them arrested in the name of the new Emperor (whose decrees proved to be properly sealed).
The regents, charged with responsibility for the recent war and (a fine effrontery on her part) with treacherously capturing Loch and Parkes, were sentenced to be tortured to death, but this was commuted to suicide by the silk cord for Princes I and Cheng, and beheading for Sushun. Jung Lu was rewarded with the viceroyalty of a province and control of the army; Yehonala and Sakota assumed the titles of Empress of the Western and Eastern Palace respectively,*(Flashman is plainly mistaken in assigning this title to Yehonala in 1860.) and from that moment the former concubine never relaxed her grip on imperial power. When her son, the new Emperor, died in 1873, she engineered the succession for her infant nephew, but when he reached manhood and showed reformist tendencies she had him interned and wielded supreme authority until her death.
Yehonala Tzu-hsi was the world's last great absolute queen, and may be compared to Catherine the Great and the first Elizabeth. For the ills her country suffered through her resistance policy and refusal to accept change, she may fairly be blamed; against that, she kept the world at bay from China until the end of the century, when economic decline, war with Japan, and the Boxer Rising (which she exploited against the foreign powers) completed the undermining of imperial rule. Soon after her death China was a republic; whether it would have profited from earlier revolution, earlier reform, and earlier acceptance of the outside world, no one can say.
In its details, Flashman's portrait of Yehonala is a faithful one; her beauty and charm were legendary, as were her less admirable qualities, and his account of her lifestyle is confirmed elsewhere, even to such trivia as her favourite food, clothes, jewellery, and board-games. How just he is in his sweeping assessment of her character is a matter for conjecture; as her biographer Sergeant observes, contemporary writers, depending on their viewpoint, show her almost as two different women, 'one a monster of iniquity, the other a lovable genius'. There is ample evidence that she was vain, greedy, cruel, and autocratic, but less that she was as callous, ruthless, and promiscuous as Flashman suggests. Opinions differ sharply about her private morals; she was for years concubine to a depraved monarch, and rumours of her immorality were persistent (but she did not lack malicious enemies); apart from Jung Lu, her lovers were said to include a later Chief Eunuch, Li Lien Ying ('Cobbler's Wax'), her confirmed favourite, who may not have been a eunuch at all—the American artist, Katherine Carl, described him as tall, thin, and 'Savonarola-like', with elegant manners and a pleasant voice. There is virtually no personal evidence for her early life; most of the memoirs refer to her later years, when the picture is of a sprightly, domineering old lady of unshakeable will, immense vanity, high intelligence, and winning charm when she chose to exert it; obviously a once great beauty, and retaining to the end her silvery voice and flashing smile. (See Philip W. Sergeant, The Great Empress Dowager of China, 1910; Daniel Vare, The Last of the Empresses, 1936; E. Backhouse and J. O. P. Bland, China Under the Empress Dowager, 1910, and Annals of the Court of Pekin; Princess Der Ling (Te Ling), afterwards Mrs T. C. White, lady-in-waiting to the Dowager Empress, Two Years in the Forbidden City, 1924, and Old Buddha; Charlotte Haldane, The Last Great Empress of China, 1965; J. and M. Porteous, 'An Explanatory Account of the Chinese Ladies,' pamphlet, Dublin, 1888. For the political intrigues of 1861, see Morse, International Relations.)
APPENDIX III: The Doctor of Letters of the Hanlin Academy
One of the most touching, and illuminating, documents of the China War is a diary covering the last few weeks before Elgin's army reached Pekin. It was kept by a Doctor of Letters and member of the Hanlin Academy, living in the capital, and is an invaluable record of the crisis as seen by an educated, middle-class Chinese. He calls it 'a record of grief incurable'; the time of national catastrophe was also, for him, one of personal tragedy because, while the barbarians were closing on Pekin, the doctor's aged mother was dying, and the diary is a moving record of his personal anxieties set against the background of great events. The diary has another value: it shows the power which the Yi Concubine Yehonala exerted on the dying Emperor and his court, and the extent to which she was responsible for the bitter resistance to the Allies' demands.
'In the moon of the Ken Shen Year (August)', writes the doctor, 'rumours began to circulate that the barbarians had already reached Taku (Forts).' There was 'alarm and uneasiness' in Pekin, but no flight as yet. 'His Majesty was seriously ill, and it was known that he wished to leave for the north, but the Imperial Concubine Yi … dissuaded him and assured him that the barbarians would never enter the city.' After news of the defeat at Taku, however, people began to leave, and as the news became progressively worse, the exodus became one of thousands.
The doctor now turns to his own immediate troubles: his mother's medicine, the preparation of her coffin, its appearance, and its cost—which, he reflects, would have been much greater if he had not had the foresight to buy the wood years earlier and keep it in store. 'This comforted me not a little.'
His next entry is divided between national affairs and the progress being made on the coffin. There are 'rumours that Pekin would be bombarded on the 27th [sic], so that everyone was escaping who could. On the 27th we put on the second coating of lacquer. On that day our troops captured the barbarian leader Pa-hsia-li (Parkes) with eight others, and they were imprisoned in the Board of Punishments.' He notes that the Emperor was preparing to leave, but the Imperial Concubine Yi persuaded some of the high officials to memorialise him to remain. All officials were now sending their families and valuables out of the city.
His mother's death was clearly approaching, so the ceremonial robes were prepared. His mother thought the coverlet was too heavy, so one of silk was substituted, but she thought that too luxurious. 'Her parents-in-law,' she pointed out, 'had not had grave-wrappings of such valuable stuff.' Meanwhile, in 'the battle at Chi Hua Gate' (which presumably means Pah-li-chao), 'the Mongol cavalry broke, and many were trampled to death in the general rout.'
And now 'the Princes and Ministers besought the Concubine Yi to induce His Majesty to leave … His Majesty was only too anxious to start at once … (but she) persuaded the two Grand Secretaries to memorialise against his doing so, and … a decree was issued stating that in no circumstances would the Emperor leave the capital.'
Another battle was reported the next day (September 22; this was either a false rumour, or more probably the Allies mopping up after Pah-li-chao), and the Emperor, 'attended by his concubines, the Princes, Ministers and Dukes [sic], and all the officers of the household, left the city in desperate rout and disorder unspeakable'. In fact, the doctor notes, the barbarians were still some way off, and the court was at the Summer Palace, so there was nothing to fear.
'Up to the last the Yi Concubine begged him to remain … as his presence could not fail to awe the barbarians, and thus to exert a protecting influence for the good of the city and people. How, she said, could the barbarians be expected to spare the city if the Sacred Chariot had fled, leaving unprotected the tutelary shrines and the altars of the gods?'
Shortly after this, the doctor's mother died, 'abandoning her most undutiful son … her death lies at my door, because of my ignorance of medicine.' He was worried about having her buried, in case the barbarians should desecrate her grave, but finally had her buried in a temple. A few days later he notes briefly 'vast columns of smoke seen rising to the north-west'.
'When the Yi Concubine heard of the … surrender, she implored the Emperor to reopen hostilities.' But His Majesty was dangerously ill, 'so our revenge must be postponed for the time being'.
He was not a Doctor of Letters for nothing, for in short space he conjures up a most moving and vivid picture: of life and death going on in a small house in Pekin while the captains and the kings make history; of his concern for the indomitable old lady reproving his extravagance while the Imperial Army crumbles; of his touching self-reproach at her death and his admiration for the fiery Yi Concubine vainly urging resistance for the honour of China; of his fears for his mother's grave while the Summer Palace is burning. And perhaps the strongest impression he leaves is that if the men of Pekin had matched the spirit of the women, Lord Elgin would have bought his treaty dear. (For the Doctor's diary, see Backhouse and Bland.)
