A Dynasty in Crisis: The Death of Emperor Xianfeng

The summer of 1861 marked a turning point for China’s Qing Dynasty. Emperor Xianfeng, who had fled to the imperial retreat in Rehde (modern Chengde) during the Second Opium War, lay on his deathbed. His passing on August 22, 1861, left the empire in the hands of his five-year-old son, Zaichun, and a fragile regency. The power vacuum ignited a fierce struggle between two factions: the conservative Eight Regent Ministers led by Sushun, and the reform-minded Prince Gong (Yixin), the emperor’s half-brother.

Xianfeng’s distrust of Prince Gong—stemming from the latter’s diplomatic dealings with Western powers after the capture of Beijing—had sidelined him from the Rehde court. Instead, Sushun and his allies dominated the regency council, marginalizing Xianfeng’s empress dowagers, Cixi and Ci’an. But as tensions mounted, Prince Gong’s arrival in Rehde on September 5, 1861, set the stage for a dramatic confrontation.

The Rehde Showdown: Tears and Tactics

Prince Gong’s journey to Rehde was no casual visit. Officially, he came to mourn his brother at the imperial coffin rites. His performance was masterful. As recorded in the Yong’an Notes, he “prostrated himself, wailing so loudly that the sound echoed through the halls. None present could hold back tears—it was the most profound display of grief since the emperor’s death.” This emotional display disarmed suspicions, framing him as a grieving brother rather than a political threat.

Yet his true mission was riskier: a secret meeting with the empress dowagers. Sushun, wary of an alliance between Prince Gong and the women who technically held custody of the child emperor, had forbidden private audiences. When Prince Gong requested an audience, regent Duhun invoked Confucian propriety: “A widow’s household must avoid scandal. Why should they meet alone?”

Prince Gong’s countermove was audacious. He proposed that Prince Zheng, a senior regent, chaperone the meeting. To his relief, Prince Zheng refused—pride prevented him from playing watchdog. This miscalculation gave Prince Gong and the dowagers a critical window.

The 20-Minute Coup Blueprint

The hastily arranged meeting lasted just twenty minutes, but its impact was seismic. Behind closed doors, the trio plotted a coup:

1. Timing: The regents would be arrested upon returning to Beijing.
2. Military Backing: Prince Gong secured the loyalty of Beijing’s garrison commanders.
3. Legitimacy: The dowagers would issue edicts in the boy emperor’s name, condemning the regents for “usurping imperial authority.”

Prince Gong left Rehde on September 11, avoiding official post stations to evade potential assassins. His urgency underscored the stakes: failure meant execution.

The Xinyou Coup and Its Aftermath

On November 2, 1861, the plan unfolded flawlessly. As the regents entered Beijing, they were ambushed. Sushun was beheaded; others were forced to commit suicide. The dowagers assumed regency, with Prince Gong as chief advisor—a partnership that reshaped Qing governance.

### Cultural Shockwaves

The coup violated Confucian norms in three ways:
– Gender Roles: Cixi, a woman, became de facto ruler.
– Filial Piety: Prince Gong had overthrown his brother’s appointed regents.
– Speed: Traditional power transitions were deliberate, not abrupt.

Yet it worked. The Qing gained a pragmatic leadership willing to engage with the West—a shift embodied by Prince Gong’s establishment of the Zongli Yamen (foreign affairs office).

Legacy: Modernization and Myths

The coup’s legacy is dual-edged. It enabled the Tongzhi Restoration, a period of reform, but also entrenched Cixi’s dominance, which later stifled progress. Prince Gong’s reputation suffered; Cixi eventually sidelined him. Yet his Rehde gambit remains a case study in political cunning—a reminder that in dynastic survival, sometimes tears speak louder than swords.

### Why It Matters Today

The 1861 coup echoes in modern China’s balancing acts between tradition and reform. It also birthed enduring myths, like Cixi’s “dragon lady” caricature. For historians, the episode reveals how personal alliances could redirect empires—a lesson as relevant now as it was then.

In the end, Prince Gong’s theatrical grief and razor-sharp strategy didn’t just win a throne; they rewrote the rules of Qing politics. And for that, Rehde’s autumn intrigue deserves its place in the annals of power.