The Gathering Storm: A Throne in Question

In the winter of 1900, the Forbidden City buzzed with tense anticipation. Empress Dowager Cixi, the de facto ruler of China for nearly four decades, convened an extraordinary assembly of imperial clansmen. The agenda: determining the succession to the throne of the Tongzhi Emperor, who had died childless in 1875. This was no ordinary matter of state—it represented a profound constitutional crisis that would determine the future of the Qing dynasty at a time when foreign powers circled like vultures and internal discontent simmered throughout the empire.

The meeting took place against the backdrop of increasing Western imperialism and growing domestic instability. The Boxer Rebellion was gaining momentum, anti-Manchu sentiment festered among Han Chinese intellectuals, and the imperial court itself was divided between conservative and reformist factions. Cixi, now in her mid-sixties, understood that the succession question went beyond mere family matters—it would determine whether China could maintain its sovereignty or would continue its slide toward semi-colonial status.

The assembled princes represented the most powerful bloodlines of the Aisin Gioro clan. They understood the gravity of the moment—not merely who would occupy the Dragon Throne, but whether the Qing imperial system itself could survive the tumultuous transition into the twentieth century. The air in the hall grew thick with unspoken tensions as each man calculated how the outcome might affect his family’s status, wealth, and survival.

The Reluctant Princes: A Theater of Avoidance

Cixi began the proceedings by calling upon Pulun, a senior member of the imperial family and direct descendant of the Daoguang Emperor. “As the eldest grandson of Emperor Xuanzong,” she demanded, “what is your opinion?” Pulun’s response set the tone for what would follow: “Establishing an heir for Emperor Muzong is appropriate. As for who should be chosen, I beg the Old Buddha to decide.”

This carefully crafted non-answer revealed the dangerous political landscape these imperial relatives navigated. To endorse any specific candidate risked making powerful enemies, while appearing too ambitious might draw suspicion from the empress dowager herself. When Cixi pressed further, asking which of the younger “Pu” generation showed the most promise, Pulun resorted to diplomatic evasion: “In my opinion, aside from myself, all have promise.”

The exchange highlighted the peculiar dynamics of Qing court politics. Despite holding absolute power, Cixi needed at least the appearance of consensus from the imperial clan to legitimize her decision. The princes, meanwhile, understood that while their opinions wouldn’t necessarily determine the outcome, offering the wrong opinion could prove disastrous later. Their collective reluctance to speak frankly created a peculiar stalemate—a council of the empire’s most powerful men rendered virtually silent by political calculation and fear.

The Ghost of Prince Gong: Legacy and Influence

When Cixi turned to Puwei, the grandson of the illustrious Prince Gong, the political subtext grew even richer. Prince Gong had been one of the most significant figures in late Qing politics—a reform-minded statesman who helped navigate the empire through the crises of the mid-nineteenth century. His descendant, known as the “Little Prince Gong,” theoretically possessed the qualifications for succession himself.

Cixi’s direct address to Puwei carried multiple meanings. By treating him as a commentator rather than potential candidate, she effectively removed him from consideration while simultaneously honoring his family’s status. Puwei’s response—”I am young and dare not speak carelessly about such important matters. Everything depends on the Old Buddha’s decision”—demonstrated his understanding of this delicate positioning.

The exchange illustrated how historical relationships continued to shape Qing politics decades after key figures had passed from the scene. Prince Gong’s legacy—both his accomplishments and his sometimes tense relationship with Cixi—influenced how his descendants navigated court politics. The “Little Prince Gong” understood that his family’s survival depended on recognizing both their privileged status and its limits under Cixi’s rule.

The Unexpected Silence: When Power Speaks Louder Than Words

The universal reluctance of the imperial princes to offer substantive opinions created an unexpected problem for Cixi. She had anticipated at least some debate, if not open competition, among the various factions. This would have allowed her to play different groups against each other—a time-honored strategy for maintaining control. Instead, the uniform deference left her without the political friction she needed to gauge the various possibilities.

This unanimous silence revealed several important realities about late Qing politics. First, it demonstrated how completely Cixi had consolidated power over her four decades of rule. The princes who might have challenged her in earlier years were either gone or had learned the dangers of opposition. Second, it reflected the general political culture of the late Qing court, where survival often depended on avoiding definite positions that could later be used against you.

Most significantly, the silent compliance suggested that the imperial clan understood the precariousness of their situation. With foreign powers increasingly intervening in Chinese affairs and domestic challenges mounting, the succession question wasn’t merely about who would sit on the throne but about whether the imperial system itself would survive. In this context, avoiding responsibility可能 have seemed the safest course.

The Secret Counselor: Princess Rongshou’s Influence

Frustrated by the unproductive meeting with the princes, Cixi turned to her most trusted confidante: Princess Rongshou, the daughter of Prince Gong whom Cixi had adopted as her own daughter. Known throughout the court as “Big Princess,” she occupied a unique position—respected by the imperial clan, feared by the eunuchs, and listened to by Cixi herself.

The relationship between the empress dowager and her adopted daughter revealed fascinating dimensions of Qing court dynamics. Despite her absolute power, Cixi remained somewhat in awe of the princess’s intelligence and integrity. Court anecdotes recounted how Cixi would hide fashionable new clothing and accessories when Big Princess visited, knowing she disapproved of extravagance. This unusual dynamic—where the most powerful woman in China showed deference to her adopted daughter—speaks volumes about Princess Rongshou’s character and influence.

Their private meeting, arranged through Chief Eunuch Li Lianying with strict security precautions, addressed the succession question with a frankness impossible in the larger council. Cixi began with a remarkable admission: “Years ago I made a mistake. I should have selected someone from the ‘Pu’ generation to succeed your wayward brother. If I had, we wouldn’t have today’s troubles.” This confession of error from a ruler not known for admitting mistakes demonstrated both the gravity of the situation and her trust in Big Princess.

Life in the Gilded Cage: The Emperor’s Precarious Existence

The conversation between Cixi and Big Princess inevitably turned to the current emperor, who had been under effective house arrest since the failed Hundred Days’ Reform in 1898. Confined to the Ocean Terrace in the Zhongnanhai complex, the emperor lived in increasingly miserable conditions. Reports suggested his food and basic necessities were often inadequate, and rumors circulated about deliberate poisoning attempts.

Princess Rongshou had privately agonized over the emperor’s situation but felt powerless to intervene directly. She understood that any attempt to improve his conditions might backfire, as the eunuchs responsible for his care might retaliate with even worse treatment. This heartbreaking calculation—that showing concern might actually endanger the emperor further—illustrated the brutal realities of palace politics.

The French doctor’s recent examination of the emperor and subsequent reports about possible poisoning in his food had particularly alarmed Big Princess. This medical intervention itself represented the growing influence of foreign powers in Chinese imperial affairs—another sign of the dynasty’s weakening sovereignty. The princess had gradually come to believe that removing the emperor from the throne might actually save his life, as he would no longer pose a threat to those currently in power.

The Weight of History: Learning from Previous Successions

As Cixi and her adopted daughter discussed the options, they necessarily reflected on previous succession crises in Qing history. The peculiar Manchu system of succession—which avoided explicit primogeniture in favor of selection based on merit—had sometimes produced brilliant rulers but often created instability. The legendary Kangxi Emperor had struggled with succession issues throughout his later years, ultimately leading to the ascension of the Yongzheng Emperor, who established the secret succession system.

More recently, the circumstances surrounding the Tongzhi Emperor’s death and the controversial selection of the Guangxu Emperor as his successor represented fresh history. Cixi’s own role in that selection—bypassing the appropriate generation to maintain her regency—now returned as a complicating factor. The current crisis directly resulted from that earlier decision, creating a dynastic irregularity that required correction.

The two women also understood they were operating within specific cultural parameters. The Confucian emphasis on proper ritual and lineage meant that any succession decision needed to appear consistent with ancestral traditions, even if it represented a significant departure from normal practice. This need to maintain the appearance of continuity while making radical changes created additional layers of complexity.

The International Dimension: Foreign Powers Watch Closely

Unspoken but ever-present during these deliberations was the awareness that foreign governments were closely monitoring the succession question. The recent Boxer Rebellion had brought international military forces to China, and the subsequent negotiations would inevitably involve questions about China’s future leadership. Any perceived instability in the succession might provide pretext for further foreign intervention.

The fact that a French doctor had examined the emperor and reported on his condition demonstrated how internationalized the imperial question had become. Foreign legations maintained sophisticated intelligence networks within Beijing, and their governments had definite preferences regarding who should lead China. Some Western powers favored the current emperor for his reformist tendencies, while others preferred a weaker ruler who would be more pliable to foreign demands.

Cixi understood that whatever decision she made would have international repercussions. A selection unacceptable to the foreign powers might trigger additional sanctions or even military action, while a choice seen as too compliant with foreign interests would undermine the dynasty’s legitimacy domestically. Navigating these competing pressures required diplomatic skill of the highest order.

The Human Dimension: Family Amidst Politics

Beneath the layers of political calculation, the succession question remained at its heart a family matter. The various “Pu” generation candidates were all relatives—nephews, cousins, and distant kin—within the extensive Aisin Gioro clan. Their futures, and those of their immediate families, would be dramatically altered by the selection.

For the mothers of these potential heirs, the stakes were particularly high. To have one’s son selected as emperor represented the highest honor imaginable, but also meant effectively losing that child to the rigid protocols of imperial life. The selected boy would be removed from his birth family and raised by palace staff, his relationships carefully managed to prevent the emergence of rival power centers.

The personal dimensions extended to Cixi herself. Now in her later years, she had to consider not only the immediate political implications but also her historical legacy. How would future generations judge her handling of this succession crisis? Would she be remembered as the savior of the dynasty or the architect of its collapse? These questions undoubtedly weighed on her as she contemplated her options.

The Decision: Navigating Impossible Choices

After her consultation with Princess Rongshou, Cixi moved forward with her plans. The eventual selection of Puyi—then just a young child—as the new emperor represented a characteristically shrewd political calculation. His youth would allow for an extended regency, maintaining Cixi’s power while ostensibly addressing the succession question. His family connections—son of Prince Chun and nephew of the Guangxu Emperor—provided sufficient legitimacy while avoiding the most contentious family rivalries.

The decision also reflected practical considerations. A child emperor could be molded and educated according to the needs of the time, potentially preparing him for the challenges of modern rulership. The selection of Puyi’s father as regent created a governance structure that might maintain stability during the transition.

Yet the decision also contained the seeds of future problems. The extended regency period would create power vacuums and competing centers of authority. The selection of yet another child emperor—the second in a row—further emphasized the dynasty’s weakness and inability to produce mature leadership. Most fundamentally, the decision failed to address the structural issues facing the Qing state, treating a constitutional crisis as merely a family matter.

The Unraveling: From Decision to Disaster

The succession decision of 1900-1901 ultimately failed to stabilize the Qing dynasty. Puyi would ascend to the throne in 1908 following the deaths of both the Guangxu Emperor and Cixi within a day of each other—a timing that continues to generate speculation about foul play. His reign would last just three years before the Xinhai Revolution of 1911 ended imperial rule in China.

The failure of this succession planning illustrates the ultimate impossibility of solving systemic problems through personnel changes. No amount of clever selection could address the fundamental challenges facing the Qing: foreign imperialism, domestic discontent, economic transformation, and ideological challenges to the very concept of imperial rule.

The elaborate political theater surrounding the succession question—the reluctant princes, the secret consultations, the careful calculations—ultimately proved irrelevant to the larger historical forces sweeping China into the modern era. The Qing court had become increasingly disconnected from the realities of Chinese society, operating within a bubble of ritual and protocol while the country transformed around it.

Legacy and Lessons: Understanding Late Qing Politics

The 1900 succession crisis offers valuable insights into the operation of power in late imperial China. It demonstrates how even absolute rulers like Cixi needed to navigate complex networks of family relationships, historical precedents, and institutional constraints. The apparent unanimity of the imperial princes concealed fierce behind-the-scenes maneuvering and calculation.

The episode also illustrates the changing nature of Chinese sovereignty in the face of foreign pressure. The fact that international considerations played such an important role in what should have been an internal family matter signaled how compromised Qing independence had become. The dynasty’s fate increasingly depended on factors beyond its control.

Finally, the succession crisis reveals the limitations of personal rule in addressing structural problems. Cixi’s political brilliance, which had maintained her power for decades, proved insufficient to solve the fundamental challenges facing the imperial system. Her focus on personnel decisions and family politics prevented her from recognizing the need for more fundamental changes.

The story of the 1900 succession crisis thus becomes more than merely a historical curiosity—it serves as a case study in how political systems fail when they become disconnected from reality, when ritual replaces substance, and when personal power obstructs necessary adaptation. The lessons extend far beyond the Forbidden City, offering insights into the dynamics of power that remain relevant more than a century later.