The Prince Who Almost Became Emperor

Born in 1833 as the sixth son of the Daoguang Emperor, Yixin (posthumously known as Prince Gong) entered the world with royal privilege but also intense political peril. His mother, Empress Jing of the Borjigit clan, held considerable influence, positioning young Yixin as a natural contender for the throne. Historical records suggest the Daoguang Emperor seriously considered making Yixin his heir—a testament to the prince’s intellect and political acumen.

However, fate intervened when his elder half-brother Yizhu ascended as the Xianfeng Emperor in 1850. This marked the beginning of Yixin’s political marginalization. Xianfeng, wary of his capable brother, systematically excluded him from power, appointing him only to ceremonial roles. The tension between the brothers reflected a recurring Qing dynasty dilemma: how to harness talented imperial relatives without letting them threaten the throne.

The Coup That Changed Everything

The turning point came in 1861 with the Xianfeng Emperor’s death during the Second Opium War. In a shocking political snub, the late emperor’s regency council of eight ministers excluded Prince Gong from power—despite him being the most senior imperial clansman. This miscalculation triggered one of the 19th century’s most dramatic political maneuvers.

Partnering with Empress Dowager Cixi and Ci’an, Yixin masterminded the Xinyou Coup (also called the Beijing Coup). The operation saw:
– Swift execution of the eight regent ministers
– Installation of Cixi as de facto ruler
– Yixin’s appointment as Prince-Regent with unprecedented powers

For the next four years, Prince Gong essentially co-ruled China, holding titles including:
– Head of the Grand Council (equivalent to prime minister)
– Superintendent of Trade and Foreign Affairs
– Controller of the Imperial Household

The Reformer Who Couldn’t Reform Enough

Yixin’s tenure marked China’s first serious attempt at modernization through the Self-Strengthening Movement (1861-1895). His pragmatic approach included:
– Establishing the Zongli Yamen (China’s first foreign ministry)
– Supporting provincial modernization efforts like the Jiangnan Arsenal
– Advocating for Western military technology while preserving Confucian values

Yet his reforms faced inherent contradictions. As Jonathan Spence notes in The Search for Modern China, Yixin wanted “Western machines but not Western ideas”—a limitation that ultimately doomed the movement. His 1864 memorial warning against over-reliance on foreign troops during the Taiping Rebellion reveals this cautious mindset.

The Dangerous Dance with Cixi

Yixin’s relationship with Empress Dowager Cixi became a textbook case of imperial power struggles. Initially allies, their partnership soured as Cixi consolidated power. The breaking points came in three dramatic confrontations:

1. 1865 Power Struggle
After Yixin allegedly made appointments without consulting Cixi, she orchestrated his demotion using censor Cai Shouqi’s impeachment. Though restored to the Grand Council, Yixin lost his “Prince-Regent” title—a symbolic castration of his authority.

2. 1874 Imperial Temper Tantrum
When the young Tongzhi Emperor impulsively stripped Yixin of all titles during the Yuanmingyuan reconstruction controversy, Cixi had to intervene. The incident revealed Yixin’s precarious position—respected enough to be a target, but indispensable enough to be reinstated.

3. 1884 Purge
Cixi’s final blow came during the Sino-French War, when she dismissed Yixin’s entire faction for “indecisiveness.” This marked the definitive end of his political influence.

Cultural Legacy and Modern Parallels

Beyond politics, Prince Gong left enduring cultural marks:
– His mansion (now the Prince Gong’s Palace Museum) showcases Qing aristocratic aesthetics
– As a calligrapher and poet (using the pseudonym “Master of the Happy Way Studio”), his works reflect scholar-statesman ideals
– His handling of foreign diplomats set protocols for modern Chinese diplomacy

Historians debate his legacy. Some view him as China’s missed opportunity for earlier reform—a Bismarck-like figure constrained by the system. Others argue his conservatism made him ill-suited to lead radical change. Either way, his life offers timeless lessons about power: the dangers of being indispensable to a ruler, yet more capable than them.

In contemporary China, Yixin’s story resonates in discussions about reform pace and political succession. His mansion has become an unlikely tourist attraction, where visitors ponder how different modern China might be if this “prince who nearly ruled” had prevailed.

The Twilight Years

The final decade of Yixin’s life (1884-1898) saw him fade into political irrelevance. Though nominally restored to some honors, he never regained real power. His death in 1898—coinciding with the Hundred Days’ Reform—symbolically marked the end of moderate reformism in late Qing politics.

Posthumously honored as “Prince Gong the Wise” (恭忠亲王) and enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple, Yixin received the ceremonial recognition denied him in life. Yet perhaps his greatest epitaph lies in the words of British diplomat Robert Hart: “He understood foreign affairs better than any Manchu of his time…but understood too well the limits of his power.”

This complex legacy ensures Prince Gong remains one of the most fascinating “what if” figures in Chinese history—a man who helped shape modern China’s painful transition, yet ultimately became its collateral damage.