The Rise of China’s Last Absolute Ruler
Empress Dowager Cixi stands as one of history’s most fascinating contradictions – a conservative monarch who resisted political reform yet embraced Western luxuries, a woman who demanded masculine honorifics while enjoying feminine indulgences, and a ruler who maintained imperial traditions while experimenting with modern technology. Born in 1835 as Yehenara Xingzhen to a middle-ranking Manchu official, her path to power began in 1851 when selected as a low-ranking concubine for the Xianfeng Emperor. The birth of his only surviving son in 1856 elevated her status dramatically, setting the stage for her eventual domination of Qing politics.
When Xianfeng died in 1861, the 25-year-old widow executed a brilliant political coup, overthrowing the regents appointed to govern during her son’s minority. This began her nearly five-decade reign as China’s de facto ruler, first behind the throne during the Tongzhi and Guangxu reigns, then openly wielding power after the 1898 coup against reformist officials. Her rule coincided with China’s “Century of Humiliation,” when Western powers and Japan forced unequal treaties upon the weakening empire. While history remembers her for resisting modernization that might have saved the dynasty, her personal life reveals surprising openness to foreign comforts and technologies.
The Imperial Habits: Smoking and Other Courtly Rituals
Among Cixi’s many carefully cultivated habits, her smoking ritual stands out as particularly elaborate. Unlike earlier Qing rulers – Emperor Kangxi had famously punished smokers by piercing their noses with iron rods – Cixi enjoyed her “green strips” (so called to avoid the inauspicious “water smoke” homonym) with ceremonial precision. Four maids attended each smoking session, handling the silver water pipe with its crane-leg stem and preparing the specialized southern tobacco. The process required six specific tools and exacting protocols – from the proper preparation of fire-starting materials to the precise angle at which maids presented the pipe. A single spark out of place could bring punishment extending to the maid’s entire family.
The smoking ritual reveals much about Cixi’s court. The specialized vocabulary (“green strips” instead of “water smoke”), the symbolic decorations (longevity knots and bat motifs representing good fortune), and the hierarchical positioning (maids kneeling while serving) all reinforced imperial authority. Yet it also served a practical purpose – like other palace women, Cixi turned to smoking to alleviate the boredom and isolation of court life. Unlike male emperors who could seek companionship freely, the widowed empress had limited social outlets beyond eunuchs like the notorious Li Lianying.
The Royal Toilet: A Throne Within the Throne
Perhaps no object better symbolizes Cixi’s privileged existence than her “official room” – the ornate sandalwood toilet disguised as a carved salamander. This remarkable artifact, with its gemstone eyes and intricate carvings, functioned as a portable throne for bodily functions. The elaborate protocols surrounding its use – from specially prepared perfumed sawdust to the ritualized transportation by eunuchs – turned even elimination into an imperial ceremony.
The contrast between palace luxury and wartime hardship became starkly apparent during Cixi’s 1900 flight from the Eight-Nation Alliance. Forced to improvise sanitation arrangements during her journey to Xi’an, the empress who normally rode a jeweled salamander found herself using makeshift rural latrines or having ladies-in-waiting form human privacy screens. This humiliating experience, coming after decades of absolute power, perhaps explains her later openness to certain Western conveniences that could prevent such indignities.
Modern Toys for an Ancient Ruler
Cixi’s relationship with Western technology presents fascinating contradictions. While politically resisting modernization that might weaken her authority, she personally enjoyed many foreign innovations:
The Imperial Train (1902): After returning from Xi’an, Cixi embraced railway travel with characteristic extravagance. Her 22-carriage train featured yellow-satin upholstered compartments and specially commissioned porcelain tableware. The French revolutionary anthem “La Marseillaise” played ironically as she arrived in Beijing, signaling both her accommodation to foreign presence and the dynasty’s weakening sovereignty.
The Unruly Mercedes (1903): The German-made automobile gifted by Yuan Shikai became a symbol of Cixi’s conflicted modernity. Her outrage at the seated driver – “How dare he sit as my equal!” – and the subsequent near-accident when attempting to drive while kneeling demonstrated the cultural chasm between imperial protocol and modern technology. The abandoned car in the Summer Palace stands as a metaphor for China’s stalled modernization under her rule.
Photographic Experiments (1903-1908): Initially wary of photography as a foreign novelty associated with the executed Consort Zhen, Cixi eventually became its enthusiastic patron. Her hundreds of surviving photographs – from formal portraits to staged scenes as the Goddess of Mercy – represent both savvy imagecraft and personal vanity. She granted unprecedented access to photographers like Yu Xunling (son of diplomat Yu Keng), even relaxing court protocols to allow his spectacles and standing posture during sessions.
The Cultural Legacy of a Contradictory Reign
Cixi’s personal habits reflect broader tensions in late Qing society between tradition and modernity. Her embrace of foreign luxuries while rejecting political reform paralleled the “Self-Strengthening Movement” approach – adopting Western military technology while preserving Confucian values. The photographic legacy, in particular, created an important visual record bridging imperial and modern China.
The Mercedes incident exemplifies how imported technologies challenged traditional hierarchies, while her elaborate smoking and toilet rituals demonstrate the persistence of imperial spectacle even as the dynasty crumbled. These personal artifacts and habits humanize a ruler often reduced to caricature, revealing both her authoritarian tendencies and the cultural constraints facing women in power.
Today, Cixi’s material world – from the Summer Palace pleasure boats to the reconstructed railway cars – allows historians to analyze late imperial China through the lens of material culture. Her story warns against simplistic judgments, showing how even reactionary rulers could be complex individuals adapting (and sometimes failing to adapt) to a rapidly changing world. The very contradictions that made her reign problematic for China make her personal habits endlessly fascinating for historians seeking to understand the human dimension behind historical forces.
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