A Sultry Day in the Forbidden City

On the ninth day of the fifth lunar month in the eleventh year of the Guangxu Emperor’s reign, the atmosphere in Beijing hung heavy with humidity, the sky threatening rain that never came. Despite the oppressive weather, Empress Dowager Cixi found herself in unusually high spirits within the halls of the Forbidden City. The previous day, she had issued a special summons through Li Lianying, chief eunuch of the Changchun Palace, calling for an exclusive audience with Prince Chun. This was no ordinary meeting—the brevity of her earlier session with the Grand Council suggested this would be an extended discussion between the imperial relatives.

As the council members withdrew from the Hall of Mental Cultivation, they encountered Prince Chun approaching. The officials, including Prince Li, stepped aside respectfully, allowing the imperial relative to pass. “Gentlemen, please remain nearby,” Prince Chun advised. “Her Majesty may have extensive instructions to convey afterward.” The exchange revealed the significance of the upcoming audience, hinting at matters of considerable importance to the Qing court.

The Arrival of Crucial Intelligence

As Prince Chun proceeded toward his audience, he was intercepted by Fuchen, the Minister of Works who also served as Commander of the Metropolitan Infantry and Superintendent of the Imperial Household Department. Despite his breathless state from hurrying through the palace corridors, Fuchen maintained proper decorum, offering a formal salute before presenting a sealed document. “A telegram from the Northern Seas Commissioner,” he explained. “It has just arrived, and I thought to deliver it directly to Your Highness.”

Prince Chun’s expression brightened as he scanned the contents. “I have been awaiting this message,” he remarked, his steps becoming noticeably lighter. Before he could continue, Fuchen shared additional intelligence: “There is further news, approximately eighty percent confirmed—Admiral Courbet has perished in the Penghu Islands.” The French naval commander’s death, whether from illness or frustration following the recent Sino-French accord, represented a significant development in the ongoing geopolitical landscape.

The Aftermath of the Sino-French Conflict

The telegram from Li Hongzhang, Governor-General of Zhili Province and Commissioner of the Northern Seas, confirmed that French forces would withdraw from Keelung that very day. Empress Dowager Cixi received this news with palpable relief, seeing it as the final chapter in the Sino-French dispute that had consumed imperial attention since 1883. The conflict, primarily fought over influence in Vietnam, had exposed significant weaknesses in China’s coastal defenses and military capabilities despite some tactical successes.

As Prince Chun presented the telegram, the Empress Dowager reflected on the lessons learned. “The Sino-French matter is now concluded,” she declared. “We must learn from past experiences and begin anew, addressing substantial matters with determination and practicality.” Her attention turned to Li Hongzhang’s proposal for establishing a military academy in Tianjin, staffed with German instructors to train selected officers from various battalions. This initiative represented the foundational step toward creating a modern naval force—a priority that both recognized as essential to China’s future security.

The Challenge of Naval Modernization

The discussion between the Empress Dowager and Prince Chun quickly moved beyond mere approval of the military academy to the broader challenge of naval development. “Where will we find the funds? Where will we find the personnel?” Cixi posed these fundamental questions directly. “We must plan for these matters in advance.”

Prince Chun, having previously consulted with Li Hongzhang, outlined their preliminary thinking. Talent development required systematic cultivation, while funding could potentially be secured through reforms to customs administration and tax collection systems—provided provincial governors demonstrated genuine commitment to the national interest rather than local interests. The prince proposed soliciting comprehensive recommendations from coastal provinces regarding shipyard expansion, fortification construction, and arms manufacturing.

This comprehensive approach reflected a growing recognition among Qing officials that piecemeal modernization would prove insufficient against foreign threats. The empire required coordinated development across multiple provinces and sectors, a challenging proposition given the decentralized nature of Qing administration and the financial constraints following years of internal rebellion and external pressure.

The Political Context of Reform

Unexpectedly, the Empress Dowager shifted the conversation to the emperor’s age. “The emperor turns fifteen this year,” she noted, adding that his coming of age meant approaching the time for his personal rule. This statement carried profound political implications in the context of Qing court politics. Since the Tongzhi Emperor’s death in 1875, Cixi had maintained power through regency arrangements, first for her nephew Guangxu and continuing even after he reached nominal majority.

Prince Chun, the emperor’s biological father, responded with characteristic caution. He acknowledged the emperor’s youth and incomplete education, suggesting that personal rule remained premature and that the empire still benefited from the Empress Dowager’s guidance. This exchange revealed the delicate balance of power within the court and the complex relationship between institutional authority and personal influence that characterized late Qing politics.

The Personal and the Political

Empress Dowager Cixi’s response to Prince Chun’s deference revealed much about her political thinking and personal concerns. “Rule behind the curtain is not truly proper governance,” she acknowledged, suggesting she had begun considering her political legacy and personal future. “I have labored throughout my life and should make some arrangements for myself. I do not wish to acquire the reputation of clinging to power when the emperor reaches appropriate age for personal rule.”

Beneath this apparent willingness to relinquish power lay sophisticated political calculation. Cixi positioned herself as essential during crises but suggested that with the French threat resolved and tensions with Japan over Korea temporarily eased through Li Hongzhang’s diplomacy with Ito Hirobumi, the empire might enter a period of stability. “If we work together with united purpose to properly develop our naval forces,” she reasoned, “we should be able to avoid further humiliation from foreign powers.” Her reference to “retiring when riding the crest of success” indicated she was considering strategic withdrawal at a moment of strength rather than waiting until forced from power.

The Question of Imperial Retirement

The discussion naturally turned to practical arrangements for the Empress Dowager’s retirement. “After returning governance to the emperor,” she noted, “there should be some appropriate place for my retirement years.” This seemingly personal concern carried significant political and financial implications, as imperial retirement residences traditionally involved substantial construction projects that consumed state resources.

Prince Chun, anticipating this development, indicated that plans had already been contemplated. “Once funding becomes somewhat more abundant,” he proposed, “we should properly restore the Three Seas as a place for the emperor to provide for Your Majesty’s comfort in your later years.” This referred to the Zhonghai, Nanhai, and Beihai lakes and palaces adjacent to the Forbidden City, which had suffered damage during the Anglo-French occupation of Beijing in 1860.

The Empress Dowager approved this suggestion while demonstrating political acumen. “Let the edict for restoring the Three Seas be issued together with that for greatly developing the navy,” she instructed. “This will let everyone understand that I should return governance and enjoy some peaceful happiness in my remaining years.” By linking these two initiatives, she created political cover for what critics might view as self-indulgent construction during a period of supposed fiscal constraint for military modernization.

Implementation and Oversight

When Prince Chun requested guidance regarding personnel for assessing the restoration project, the Empress Dowager displayed unexpected restraint. “Handle it as you see fit,” she responded, adding, “It would be best not to appoint Imperial Household Department personnel initially.” This instruction reflected not distrust of her officials but rather protection from criticism. Major construction projects traditionally attracted scrutiny from censors and critics, particularly when involving the Imperial Household Department known for corruption and inefficiency.

This careful approach to project management demonstrated the political sophistication that had enabled Cixi to maintain power for decades. By distancing the initial planning stages from controversial agencies, she hoped to minimize opposition to both the naval modernization and restoration projects, recognizing that their success depended on political as well as practical considerations.

The Historical Significance of the Exchange

This seemingly routine audience between the Empress Dowager and her trusted relative encapsulated the central dilemmas facing late Qing China. The empire stood at a crossroads, recognizing the need for military modernization while constrained by financial limitations, bureaucratic inertia, and political complexities. The simultaneous pursuit of naval development and palace restoration illustrated the competing priorities that would characterize China’s attempts at self-strengthening over subsequent decades.

The Sino-French War had demonstrated both the progress and limitations of China’s military modernization efforts. While Chinese forces had achieved some successes, particularly in Taiwan and northern Vietnam, the conflict ultimately revealed continued vulnerability to European naval power. The destruction of the Fuzhou Shipyard and southern fleet highlighted the urgent need for comprehensive naval development, making Li Hongzhang’s proposed military academy particularly timely.

The Cultural and Social Context

Beyond immediate political and military concerns, these developments reflected broader cultural and social transformations within late Qing society. The establishment of Western-style military academies represented not just technical modernization but also the beginning of profound changes in educational practices, professional military development, and engagement with foreign knowledge systems.

The proposed naval expansion also signaled shifting attitudes toward maritime affairs in a traditionally continental empire. For centuries, Chinese strategic thinking had prioritized land-based threats from Central Asia, with naval power receiving secondary attention. The increasing pressure from European powers arriving by sea necessitated reorientation toward naval development and coastal defense, representing a significant shift in strategic paradigm.

Legacy and Modern Relevance

The decisions made during this audience would have far-reaching consequences for China’s development. The Beiyang Fleet that eventually emerged from these initiatives would become Asia’s most powerful naval force by the late 1880s, though its catastrophic defeat in the Sino-Japanese War of 1894-1895 would demonstrate the limitations of technological modernization without corresponding institutional reform.

The restoration of the Three Seas palaces, meanwhile, would evolve into the reconstruction of the Summer Palace using funds originally allocated for naval development—a decision that would become symbolic of misplaced priorities in late Qing modernization efforts. This controversial diversion of resources would feature prominently in criticisms of the Qing government’s reform efforts and contribute to growing dissatisfaction that ultimately led to the dynasty’s collapse.

The political dynamics displayed during this audience—the careful negotiation between different power centers, the balancing of personal and state interests, the attempt to modernize while preserving traditional structures—would characterize Chinese politics throughout the late imperial period and beyond. These tensions between reform and conservation, between central authority and regional power, between military necessity and fiscal constraint, would continue to shape China’s development into the twentieth century and indeed remain relevant to understanding contemporary Chinese politics and governance.

The events of that humid day in Beijing thus represented more than just routine imperial administration. They encapsulated the challenges, aspirations, and contradictions of China’s encounter with modernity, setting in motion developments that would ultimately lead to the collapse of the imperial system but also establish foundations for China’s eventual reemergence as a major power. The naval ambitions expressed that day, though frustrated in the immediate term, would find fulfillment over a century later as China developed into a significant maritime power, illustrating the long arc of historical development that connects the late Qing reforms to contemporary China’s global position.