A Palace in Wartime Shadows
The spring of 1904 arrived with unusual warmth in Beijing’s Forbidden City, bringing with it a restlessness that mirrored the geopolitical tensions beyond its vermilion walls. Empress Dowager Cixi, the de facto ruler of China’s Qing dynasty, found herself torn between personal desires and political realities. As the Russo-Japanese War erupted on China’s northeastern frontiers, the 68-year-old ruler faced difficult decisions that would reveal much about her character and China’s precarious position in the world.
The imperial court had become a pressure cooker of anxiety. Cixi spent long hours burning incense and praying for divine protection of her realm, requiring her attendants to join these solemn rituals. The normally vibrant palace life had grown dull under the shadow of international conflict, creating what one observer described as “a mood of inexplicable melancholy.” By early February, the empress could no longer tolerate this stagnation. Despite the inopportune timing, she insisted on moving the court to the Western Park (Xiyuan), where she could resume sittings for her official portrait – a project delayed nearly a year by the tense political climate.
The Portrait That Revealed Cultural Divides
The portrait commission became a microcosm of the cultural clashes defining China’s late imperial period. American artist Katharine Carl had been working intermittently on Cixi’s likeness since 1903, facing numerous challenges that went far beyond artistic technique. The empress, unaccustomed to Western portrait conventions, objected to chiaroscuro shading that made her face appear “half dark, half light.” She also found the Western tradition of artist signatures perplexing, remarking with bemusement that viewers might mistake her imperial portrait for “a picture of Miss Carl.”
These artistic disagreements reflected deeper cultural differences. When discussing payment for Carl’s services, Cixi expressed astonishment that a woman would need to earn her own living rather than depend on male relatives – a stark contrast to Western professional norms. The empress’s comments revealed traditional Chinese gender expectations: “In China, when parents pass away, sons must support their sisters until they marry. Moreover, Chinese women who earn their own living inevitably face criticism.”
Despite these tensions, the portrait was completed by April 19, 1904 – a date Cixi selected as auspicious according to the imperial calendar. The finished work received polite praise from foreign diplomats’ wives during a special viewing, though the empress remained privately unimpressed, remarking that they “would naturally praise it since it was painted by a foreigner.” Tellingly, she preferred photographic reproductions of the portrait, finding them more accurate representations.
Flower Goddess Festival: Tradition Amidst Turbulence
On February 12, the court celebrated the traditional Huachao Festival (Flower Goddess Day) with elaborate rituals that provided temporary respite from political worries. The Forbidden City’s gardens transformed into a vibrant tapestry as attendants tied red and yellow silk ribbons to plants – with special honors given to the peony, revered as “king of flowers” in Chinese culture. The celebration continued with theatrical performances depicting floral deities, their costumes meticulously designed to mimic blossoms through flowing silk petals and leaves.
This colorful spectacle offered insight into China’s animist traditions, where natural elements were believed to possess spiritual guardians – male for trees, female for flowers. The theatrical finale featured celestial beings ascending to heaven on a rainbow bridge, a symbolic representation of harmony between humanity and nature. Such rituals, while seemingly detached from geopolitical realities, reinforced the Confucian worldview that underpinned Qing governance – one where cosmic order mirrored political order.
Personal Reflections in a Changing World
The spring of 1904 marked significant personal milestones for those surrounding the empress. One attendant recorded her one-year anniversary serving at court on February 14 (March 2, 1904), noting Cixi’s surprisingly personal inquiries about her adjustment to palace life. The empress, ever strategic in managing her household, revisited marriage prospects for her ladies-in-waiting, revealing both her maternal instincts and political acumen in arranging advantageous unions.
These personal interactions showcased Cixi’s complex personality – at once imperious and intimate, traditional yet pragmatic. She displayed genuine concern for her attendants’ wellbeing while maintaining absolute authority, promising one: “As long as I live, nothing difficult will happen to you.” Such moments humanized a ruler often portrayed in Western accounts as purely calculating.
The Boxer Uprising: A Reign’s Defining Crisis
As spring progressed, Cixi’s reflections turned to what she considered the greatest mistake of her reign – the 1900 Boxer Rebellion. In remarkably candid conversations, the empress revealed her regrets about the anti-foreign uprising that had brought international humiliation and military occupation.
Her account provided rare insight into court decision-making during the crisis. She described being misled by Prince Duan and Duke Lan about the Boxers’ supposed supernatural powers and anti-Christian crusade. “I consider myself exceptionally wise,” Cixi confessed, “but I never imagined the Boxer chaos would throw China into such turmoil.” She particularly lamented failing to suppress the movement earlier, recalling how Boxer leaders had infiltrated the palace to identify Christian eunuchs – two of whom were executed.
The empress’s narrative highlighted her reliance on trusted advisor Ronglu, who correctly warned that attacking foreign legations would provoke devastating retaliation. “Kill a foreigner,” Ronglu had cautioned, “and a hundred Boxers will die in return.” Cixi’s admission that Prince Duan eventually issued attack orders without her approval revealed the limits of her authority during the crisis.
These reflections carried special poignancy in 1904, as Japan and Russia battled across Manchuria while China remained powerless to intervene. The empress’s comparison of herself to Queen Victoria – noting that British parliamentary democracy allowed the monarch to “simply sign what is put before her” – revealed her awareness of how governing structures differed in modern nation-states.
Spring’s End at the Summer Palace
By late March, the court relocated to the Summer Palace (Yiheyuan), where blooming peach trees and Kunming Lake’s tranquil waters offered symbolic renewal. The seasonal transition mirrored Cixi’s emotional journey – from winter’s regrets to cautious springtime optimism. As her barges glided across the lake, the empress seemed momentarily able to “forget about war and other troubles,” finding solace in nature’s cyclical rhythms.
This annual migration between Beijing’s palace complexes represented more than seasonal preference – it embodied the Qing dynasty’s careful balancing of Manchu traditions (represented by the Forbidden City) with Chinese cultural practices (expressed through garden palaces). The Summer Palace, with its blend of natural beauty and architectural grandeur, particularly reflected Cixi’s personal tastes and her efforts to maintain imperial prestige amid national decline.
Legacy of a Pivotal Year
The spring of 1904 proved a watershed in Cixi’s later reign, revealing an aging ruler grappling with personal legacy and national transformation. Her portrait sittings, festival observances, and candid reflections all pointed toward a larger historical consciousness – an awareness that China stood at a crossroads between tradition and modernity.
The empress’s engagement with foreign artists and customs demonstrated pragmatic adaptation, even as her discomfort with Western norms highlighted enduring cultural differences. Her retrospective on the Boxer Rebellion showed rare capacity for self-criticism from an absolute monarch, while her comparison to Queen Victoria revealed astute (if defensive) awareness of global power shifts.
Most significantly, these months captured China’s precarious position during the Russo-Japanese War – a conflict fought on Chinese soil while the Qing could only watch helplessly. Cixi’s court, for all its rituals and splendor, was becoming increasingly irrelevant to the geopolitical realities reshaping East Asia. The empress’s moments of doubt and reflection in spring 1904 thus acquire profound historical significance, offering glimpses into both personal vulnerability and national crisis on the eve of China’s revolutionary transformations.