A Child Emperor and a Shifting Court

On the ninth day of the tenth lunar month in 1861, a six-year-old boy ascended the Dragon Throne in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, supported by ministers of the imperial court. This was the enthronement ceremony of the Tongzhi Emperor, an event that marked not just the beginning of a new reign but a critical realignment of power in the late Qing dynasty. The ceremony was swiftly followed by celebrations for the birthday of the Empress Dowager Cixi, creating an atmosphere of dual festivity that masked underlying tensions. For the bureaucrats who had been suppressed by the faction of Sushun, a powerful regent for the previous emperor, these events signaled an opportunity. They celebrated openly, with government offices bustling as old officials were replaced and new ones welcomed—a classic reshuffle emblematic of the Chinese saying, “a new sovereign brings new ministers.”

This sweeping change was largely orchestrated by Prince Gong, a key imperial relative and political strategist. Along with allies like Wenxiang, he had meticulously planned these appointments. The task was delicate: balancing factional interests, appeasing rival groups, respecting public opinion, and identifying capable individuals—all while secretly building his own power base ahead of a pivotal decision on regency. Few beyond his inner circle were aware of this ulterior motive, which would shape the court’s future.

Deliberations on Regency: Power and Precedent

The most urgent matter facing the court was the formulation of a “Regency Code.” High-ranking officials—princes, ministers, and scholars—gathered repeatedly at the Grand Secretariat to debate the protocols for empress dowagers presiding over state affairs from behind a screen. These formal meetings progressed slowly, marked by caution and solemnity. In contrast, private discussions among scholars and officials were far more candid. They drew on historical precedents, especially from the Song Dynasty, debating the merits and risks of female regents.

A prevailing view, influenced by memorials from officials like Jia Zhen and Zhou Zupei, emphasized that imperial authority must not be decentralized, as power diluted could lead to decline. General Shengbao’s submission was even clearer: governance belonged solely to the throne, not ministers, and the Qing upheld stricter hierarchies than previous dynasties. This implied that any regency by the dowagers would entail exercising the emperor’s full powers. Empress Dowager Cixi’s character, revealed in just weeks, suggested she would insist on authority akin to Empress Liu of the Song, who ruled forcefully as regent.

Draft codes submitted to the dowagers were repeatedly rejected for minor flaws, forcing ministers to model proposals on Song precedents. While Empress Xuanren of the Song was praised as a “female Yao and Shun” , Empress Liu was remembered as shrewd and formidable—a parallel that worried Prince Gong. Scholars revisiting Song history often debated the legend of “Switching a Cat for a Crown Prince,” a tale that criticized Empress Liu, though some argued it misrepresented her. Historical records confirmed that Emperor Renzong of Song did not know his biological mother was Consort Li during Empress Liu’s regency, and that Consort Li was treated poorly. Only the intervention of ministers like Lü Yijian, who insisted on proper burial rites, prevented greater abuses. This narrative underscored a vital lesson: without upright ministers to check her power, Empress Liu might have become another Wu Zetian—a woman who usurped the throne.

Prince Gong’s Strategy: Ambition and Restraint

For Prince Gong, these historical reflections were both a provocation and an inspiration. Executing Sushun had removed an obstacle; facilitating the regency was the price for reclaiming influence. Yet supporting regency violated ancestral traditions, stirring guilt within him. Public sentiment, once critical of Sushun, now sympathized with his opposition to regency, casting Prince Gong’s faction in a negative light. To alleviate this shame and preempt excessive concentration of power in Cixi’s hands, he sought to install trusted allies across key positions. This served dual purposes: creating a coalition to restrain the empress dowager and solidifying his own influence.

Unlike in Tang or Song courts, where chancellors could counterbalance imperial authority, Qing protocols limited even a prince consul’s power. Thus, personnel control became Prince Gong’s primary tool. He aimed to embed loyalists who could collectively curb Cixi’s ambitions while advancing his agenda.

Cixi’s Calculations: Control and Consolidation

Empress Dowager Cixi, for her part, focused on two objectives: ensuring Prince Gong drafted a regency code to her liking, and securing her authority once in power. To achieve the first, she lavished favor upon him. During audiences, she addressed him affectionately as “Sixth Lord,” often summoning him for private consultations after full ministerial meetings. When discussions extended mealtimes, she routinely sent dishes from the imperial kitchen to his residence—a gesture of high honor.

She also addressed a longstanding grievance: the posthumous status of Prince Gong’s mother, who had been denied full honors by the previous emperor due to fraternal rivalry. Only on her deathbed was she grudgingly granted the title “Empress Dowager Kangci,” and her spirit tablet was excluded from the Imperial Ancestral Temple, highlighting her inferior status compared to the empress consort. Cixi, sensitive to issues of legitimacy and eager to gratify Prince Gong, persuaded Empress Dowager Ci’an to convene officials to rectify this, granting Kangci full posthumous rites and the title “Empress Xiaojing,” thus integrating her into the temple—a move that strengthened Cixi’s alliance with Prince Gong.

To prepare for governance, Cixi embarked on self-education. Aware of her limited classical training, she commissioned Hanlin Academy scholars to compile excerpts from historical records on emperors and regents, with annotations on statecraft and personnel management. This compendium, reviewed by grand secretaries and Prince Gong, became her private reference, illustrating her determination to master ruling techniques from history.

Cultural Echoes and Social Undercurrents

The political maneuvers of 1861 reverberated through Qing society. The discourse among scholars—drawing on Song history, critiquing regencies, and debating morality in governance—reflected a scholarly culture that engaged with state affairs through historical analogy. The repeated references to Empress Liu and the “cat” legend revealed anxieties about female rule and the role of ministers in upholding integrity.

Cixi’s patronage of historical compilation also signaled a cultural shift: the imperial court was actively reinterpreting tradition to legitimize new political structures. This project not only served her immediate needs but also influenced scholarly pursuits, directing intellectual energy toward state-sanctioned historiography.

Socially, the bureaucratic reshuffle affected countless officials and their networks. The replacement of Sushun’s allies with Prince Gong’s appointees altered patronage systems, regional policies, and administrative practices. For the common people, these changes trickled down through tax policies, legal judgments, and local governance, though the immediate impact was less visible than the court drama.

Legacy and Modern Reflections

The events of 1861 established the framework for Cixi’s decades-long dominance, shaping China’s trajectory during a period of internal decline and external pressure. The Regency Code, once finalized, enabled her to rule behind the scenes, influencing decisions through the Tongzhi and later Guangxu reigns. Her adept manipulation of court politics, combined with Prince Gong’s initial support, set a precedent for imperial consorts wielding power in a Confucian system that idealized male authority.

Prince Gong’s strategy of embedding allies, while only partially successful in restraining Cixi, highlighted the enduring tension between imperial prerogative and ministerial counsel. His efforts to balance power through bureaucratic means echoed across later reforms, illustrating challenges in modernizing Qing governance.

Historically, this episode offers insights into how traditional regimes managed succession crises and gender roles. Cixi’s reign, often criticized for conservatism and contributing to dynastic collapse, also demonstrates agency and tactical intelligence in a rigid system. The scholarly debates of 1861, referencing Song models, underscore a continuous dialogue between past and present in Chinese political culture.

Today, the coup of 1861 remains relevant for understanding institutional adaptability and the dynamics of power consolidation. It serves as a case study in how historical narratives are weaponized for political ends—a theme resonant in contemporary discourses on governance and legitimacy. The interplay between Cixi and Prince Gong, between innovation and tradition, continues to inform analyses of leadership and reform in Chinese history.