An Ancient Custom in a Changing Empire

The practice of selecting imperial consorts from noble families represented one of the most distinctive institutions of China’s last imperial dynasty. For centuries, the Qing court maintained this elaborate system that intertwined state politics with family honor, personal destiny with dynastic continuity. The selection process, known as xiunü, created a direct connection between the ruling house and the military-administrative elite that supported its reign.

This particular selection in the early months of 1868 occurred during a period of significant transition for the Qing empire. The country had recently emerged from the devastating Taiping Rebellion, which had claimed millions of lives and shaken the foundations of imperial authority. The Tongzhi Restoration was underway—an attempt to revitalize the dynasty through administrative reforms and modernization. Against this backdrop of recovery and renewal, the imperial selection took on added significance as both a return to tradition and a symbol of stability.

The Structure of Selection

The Qing selection system operated through two distinct channels with different frequencies and purposes. Annual selections focused on daughters from the Imperial Household Department’s bondservant families, who would primarily serve as palace maids and attendants. The more prestigious triennial selection, which concerned our current examination, drew from the Eight Banners aristocracy—the military-administrative elite that included Manchu, Mongol, and Han Bannermen families.

Eligibility requirements were precisely defined. Only daughters of civil officials holding the position of bithesi or higher, or military officials of xiaoqixiao rank or above, could participate. Girls became eligible at age thirteen and remained in the selection pool until chosen or aged out. Those selected faced one of two fates: becoming imperial consorts themselves or being matched as wives to princes and nobles of the imperial clan.

The process reflected the Qing court’s careful balancing of Manchu traditions with the practical needs of governing a vast multicultural empire. By maintaining marital connections with the Banner aristocracy, the imperial house reinforced the social hierarchy that underpinned its rule while ensuring fresh blood entered the imperial lineage.

Preparations Amidst Turmoil

The 1868 selection held particular importance as it marked the first full imperial selection since the beginning of the regency of the two empress dowagers. Previous scheduled selections in 1862 and 1865 had been cancelled due to the ongoing Taiping Rebellion and associated instability that made travel dangerous for participants from across the empire.

Preparation began months in advance. In October 1867, the Ministry of Revenue circulated notices to Banner officials across the provinces, requiring them to register eligible daughters with their names and ages. By the new year, candidates from outside the capital had arrived in Beijing, joining local participants to form a pool of over 120 girls, all between thirteen and fourteen years of age.

The Ministry of Revenue had initially requested selection dates in early 1868, but the operation was delayed due to renewed military concerns—specifically, the escalating Western Nien Rebellion. Only when the situation appeared sufficiently stable did the court proceed with the selection, partly out of consideration for the candidates who had traveled great distances at considerable expense to their families.

The Morning of Selection

February 4, 1868, dawned cold and windy at the Gate of Divine Prowess, the northern entrance to the Forbidden City. Officials from the Ministry of Revenue and the Imperial Household Department arrived early to prepare for the day’s proceedings. They were joined by numerous eunuchs—some performing official duties, others attending to personal connections among the candidates, and still others merely curious spectators.

The candidates themselves presented a study in adolescent anxiety and anticipation. These young girls, barely into their teenage years, stood shivering in the cutting winter wind, their noses red from cold. Their reactions to the impending selection varied considerably based on personality and perspective.

Some suffered from their own vanity, having dressed too lightly in hopes of appearing more elegant. Others trembled with fear at the prospect of being chosen and confined to the vast, lonely palace complex for the rest of their lives. A minority entertained hopeful fantasies about being matched to noble households. But most simply felt overwhelmed by the unprecedented formality of the occasion and nervous about comporting themselves properly in the imperial presence.

Enduring the Wait

The candidates had assembled before dawn, but by midday, there was still no indication when the selection would begin. Anxious whispers circulated through the crowd: “When will we finally be seen?”

Officials offered vague reassurances. “Soon, soon!” they promised, though privately they had little certainty about the timeline. “In any case, it will definitely happen today, and definitely be completed today,” became the standard response, providing little comfort to the waiting girls.

Though Banner girls typically did not practice foot-binding, their specially designed “flowerpot” shoes—with their small central platform—made standing for hours particularly taxing. Those with connections in the palace could occasionally find respite, being guided to secluded areas where they might sit briefly. But most had to endure the prolonged standing without relief.

Tensions mounted as the wait continued. Some girls voiced complaints despite efforts by fathers and brothers to quiet them. The atmosphere grew increasingly strained, transforming what was supposed to be a celebratory occasion into something more resembling a trial.

The Mechanics of Selection

When the process finally began, it proceeded with bureaucratic efficiency rather than royal ceremony. Candidates were presented not individually but in groups of ten, led by Ministry of Revenue officials to perform the required obeisances before the imperial party.

The evaluation was remarkably swift. Those who failed to impress received no commentary—the young women would barely glimpse the imperial faces before being dismissed. The system’s design inherently limited proper assessment: youthful beauty appeared diminished by the cold weather that made girls shrink and shiver; natural grace was compromised by nervousness in the imperial presence; and the palace’s vast spaces created visual distortion, like “viewing flowers through mist.”

Green name tablets recording each candidate’s personal details and family background were swiftly dispatched to the silver tray held by the powerful eunuch An Dehai. Those not chosen saw their tablets discarded, signaling the end of their imperial aspirations.

Imperial Perspectives

The young Emperor Tongzhi, experiencing his first selection ceremony, appeared somewhat overwhelmed by the procession of candidates. Even had he been able to form clear preferences, protocol prevented him from expressing them—his presence served primarily ceremonial purposes, completing the formalities of receiving officials.

Empress Dowager Ci’an, the senior consort of the previous emperor, approached the selection with deliberate care. She wished to exercise discernment but found her slower deliberation ill-suited to the rapid pace of the process. Often, she would notice a promising candidate only to have the moment pass before she could properly assess her. She also demonstrated compassion for the financial burden placed on families, knowing that keeping candidates for further evaluation meant additional expenses for their households in the capital.

Empress Dowager Cixi, the real power behind the throne, found her attention wandering between past and present. As she watched the proceedings, her mind drifted back seventeen years to her own selection during the first year of the Xianfeng reign. She recalled similar cold weather and nervous anticipation, though the details had grown hazy with time. The memory of her family’s financial struggles—specifically a thirty-tael debt to a Shanxi moneylender that required repayment on selection day—stood out more clearly than the ceremony itself.

The contrast between her past as an anxious candidate and her present position as arbiter of fates prompted philosophical reflection. The intervening seventeen years had brought unexpected twists and transformations that sometimes felt dreamlike in their improbability. How remarkable that she now sat in judgment where once she stood judged.

The Final Selections

Ci’an’s comment—”They’re almost finished!”—brought Cixi back to the present moment. Learning that approximately thirty candidates remained, she realized with some surprise that she had not yet retained any candidates, while Ci’an had selected only about a dozen.

Not wishing to appear inattentive, Cixi remarked, “What should we do? There don’t seem to be many worthy candidates!”

“Better to be strict,” Ci’an replied, before indicating a tall, graceful candidate. “What about that one?”

“Retain her,” Cixi agreed, marking her first selection of the day.

Thereafter, both dowagers applied themselves more diligently to the task, eventually choosing approximately twenty candidates between them for further consideration.

Aftermath and Arrangements

With the initial selection complete, Minister of Revenue Baojun was summoned to receive the list of successful candidates. Upon inquiring about the date for the next round of selection, he was instructed to prepare for February 10—giving candidates and officials just six days to prepare for the more rigorous secondary evaluation.

The emperor, asking after the time, departed to complete his interrupted studies at the Hongde Hall. The two dowagers, their official duties concluded, strolled briefly through the imperial garden before returning to their respective residences, leaving behind the selected candidates to contemplate their changed circumstances and the dismissed girls to return to their ordinary lives.

Cultural Significance and Social Implications

The imperial selection process represented far more than mere spouse selection for the imperial house. It reinforced social hierarchies, affirmed the special status of Banner families, and created networks of obligation and connection between the court and the nobility. For participating families, having a daughter selected brought prestige and potential influence, but also meant permanent separation and the loss of her contribution to the family’s domestic life.

The financial aspect of participation deserves particular attention. While the court provided nominal travel and sustenance allowances, these rarely covered actual expenses, especially for families from distant provinces. The extended stay in the capital required for multiple selection rounds could impose significant financial strain, particularly for middle-ranking Banner families without extensive resources.

The emotional toll on young participants also merits consideration. These adolescents, suddenly thrust into a high-stakes evaluation of their personal worth, faced enormous pressure while being expected to maintain perfect composure. The experience—whether ending in selection or dismissal—undoubtedly left psychological marks that shaped their subsequent lives and self-perceptions.

Legacy and Historical Perspective

The 1868 selection occurred during the final century of Qing rule, as traditional institutions increasingly encountered modern challenges. Within decades, the entire imperial system would collapse, taking with it practices like the imperial selection that had endured for centuries.

Today, we can recognize the selection process as both a fascinating historical institution and a poignant human experience. It encapsulated the tensions between tradition and change, between state power and individual destiny, that characterized late imperial China. The brief glimpses we have into moments like the February 1868 selection—through official records and historical accounts—offer valuable windows into a world where the personal and political intertwined in ways now largely vanished from human experience.

The particular selection described here also reminds us of the complex role played by the two empress dowagers during the Tongzhi reign. Their careful management of the process—balancing compassion with discernment, tradition with practicality—illustrates the nuanced leadership that characterized their regency, however brief the subsequent Tongzhi Restoration would prove.

In the end, the imperial selection system stands as a testament to the elaborate ceremonial and administrative structures that sustained China’s last dynasty, and to the countless young women whose lives were forever altered by their passage through the Gate of Divine Prowess on cold winter mornings. Their stories, mostly lost to history, remind us that behind the formalities of statecraft lay human experiences of hope, anxiety, disappointment, and sometimes extraordinary transformation.