The Twilight of a Reign: Cixi’s Last Hours
On November 14, 1908, Empress Dowager Cixi retired to her chambers after an exhausting day managing state affairs. Though visibly fatigued, she showed no immediate signs of grave illness. The following morning, she rose at dawn—as was her lifelong habit—and summoned key figures: Grand Council ministers, the Empress Longyu, the newly appointed Regent Prince Chun, and his consort (daughter of the late Ronglu). For hours, she dictated imperial decrees in the young Emperor Puyi’s name, elevating titles and planning coronation ceremonies.
By noon, catastrophe struck. Mid-meal, Cixi collapsed into a prolonged faint. Though she regained consciousness, the toll of dysentery and weeks of political strain became undeniable. Recognizing her impending death, she urgently reconvened her inner circle. With chilling clarity, she issued a final edict that would shape China’s fragile transition:
“By the Decree of the Grand Empress Dowager: Although the Regent Prince is to govern all state affairs, should major crises arise, he must consult the Empress Dowager Longyu for final decisions.”
This carefully crafted clause—a masterstroke of political theater—ensured the continuation of Cixi’s influence beyond the grave, safeguarding the Yehenara clan’s dominance.
The Deathbed Paradox: A Ruler’s Last Words
As her strength waned, Cixi personally amended her testament, inserting a defiant justification: “I assumed regency out of necessity, not ambition.” Her additions revealed a ruler sensitive to history’s judgment, framing her 47-year dominance as sacrificial service.
Then came the bombshell. Defying her own power structure, Cixi declared:
“Never again allow a woman to hold supreme power. It violates our ancestral laws. And let no eunuch interfere in governance—remember how eunuchs destroyed the Ming!”
This stunning contradiction—from a woman who had just secured Longyu’s political role—epitomized Cixi’s complex legacy. At 3 PM on November 15, she died facing south, the imperial direction, her gaping mouth interpreted by courtiers as her soul resisting departure.
The Funeral Spectacle: A Nation’s Theater of Grief
Cixi’s funeral procession (November 9, 1909) became a calculated display of dynastic continuity:
– The Phantom Court: A 150-foot paper junk—manned by effigies of eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting—was burned to serve her in the afterlife.
– The March to the Tombs: 120 pallbearers carried her coffin toward the Eastern Mausoleums, preceded by cavalry, camels bearing tents, and Buddhist lamas chanting. Foreign observers noted the eerie precision—a stark contrast to Emperor Guangxu’s sunlit burial months earlier.
– The Final Resting Place: Her tomb, eight years in construction (costing 8 million taels), featured jade furnishings and gem-inlaid platforms. As the stone doors sealed, so did her physical reign.
The Political Aftermath: Shadows of a Matriarch
Cixi’s posthumous influence manifested immediately:
1. The Purge of Duanfang: The arrogant Governor-General’s disrespect toward Longyu at the funeral saw him swiftly dismissed—proof of Cixi’s enduring institutional safeguards.
2. The Cost of Legacy: While Guangxu’s funeral cost 460,000 taels, Cixi’s exceeded 1.25 million—a deliberate assertion of status despite fiscal crises.
3. The Ancestral Shrine Ritual: The transfer of her spirit tablet to the Imperial Ancestral Temple involved 400 kowtows and temporary removal of Emperor Tongzhi’s tablet—a metaphysical reordering of dynastic hierarchy.
The Contradictions of Cixi’s Legacy
Modern historians grapple with her paradoxes:
– The Reformer vs. Autocrat: Her 1901 New Policies laid groundwork for constitutionalism, yet she crushed the 1898 reforms.
– The Survivor vs. Architect: She stabilized China after the Taiping Rebellion but exacerbated foreign encroachment through Boxer support.
– The Feminist Antifeminist: A woman who dominated patriarchal institutions yet barred others from following.
As The Times (1909) noted: “No ruler since Empress Wu has commanded such ceremonial grandeur.” Yet her true monument lies in China’s unresolved tension between tradition and modernity—a tension she mastered, manipulated, and ultimately could not resolve.
In death as in life, Cixi remains China’s most enigmatic sovereign: a queen who ruled as emperor, a conservative who enabled change, and a woman whose final breath condemned the very system she perfected.