Introduction: A Precarious Political Moment

In the waning years of the Qing Dynasty, the imperial court was a hotbed of intrigue, ambition, and delicate power balances. The year was 1903, and the ailing Ronglu, a trusted Manchu official and key member of the Grand Council, lay gravely ill. His impending departure from the political scene set off a frantic behind-the-scenes competition to succeed him—a struggle that would reveal much about the ethnic tensions, personal loyalties, and structural weaknesses within the Qing government. At the center of this drama stood Yuan Shikai, the shrewd and ambitious Governor-General of Zhili, who recognized that the outcome of this succession would shape not only his own future but also the stability of the empire.

The Qing Court Under Empress Dowager Cixi

To understand the significance of Ronglu’s position, one must appreciate the political environment shaped by Empress Dowager Cixi, who had dominated Qing politics for decades. Since her assumption of power, it had become an unwritten rule that the leading member of the Grand Council—the empire’s top policymaking body—must be a Manchu, not a Han Chinese. This ethnic preference was rooted in the Qing Dynasty’s origins as a Manchu-led conquest regime, and Cixi consistently relied on Manchu nobles to ensure loyalty and control at the highest levels of government.

Ronglu had been one of her most trusted advisors—a skilled operator who balanced reformist and conservative factions while maintaining Cixi’s confidence. His illness therefore created not only a personal loss for the empress dowager but a structural vacuum in the leadership of the Grand Council. The question of who would succeed him was thus not merely about filling a post; it was about maintaining the stability of the regime itself.

The Candidates: Manchus Only Need Apply

As Ronglu’s health declined, court observers quickly narrowed down the list of plausible successors. The two most senior Han officials, Wang Wenshao and Lu Chuanlin, were effectively ineligible due to Cixi’s longstanding preference for Manchu leadership. Among the Manchu elite, only a handful of figures possessed the seniority and standing to assume Ronglu’s role.

One potential candidate was Kungang, a member of the imperial clan and a Grand Secretary who had earned his jinshi degree in 1862. Yet despite his seniority, he was regarded as mediocre and enjoyed little favor with Cixi. The only other plausible figure was Prince Qing Yikuang, a seasoned official with both royal blood and political experience. It was on Yikuang that Yuan Shikai pinned his hopes.

Yuan Shikai’s Ambitious Calculations

Yuan Shikai, then serving as Governor-General of Zhili and Commissioner of the Northern Seas, was one of the most powerful officials in the empire. He understood that his own political survival—and his chance at further promotion—depended on who succeeded Ronglu. If someone hostile to his interests, such as Cen Chunxuan or Sheng Xuanhuai, gained influence, Yuan’s position could be undermined. He therefore threw his support behind Prince Qing, believing that only with Yikuang in power could he continue his rise.

For months, Yuan had been laying the groundwork, using connections—including the influence of the Fourth Princess—to bolster Yikuang’s standing with the empress dowager. But Yuan knew that the final decision rested with Ronglu himself. If Ronglu, on his deathbed, were to recommend someone else—or if Cixi, in a moment of sentiment, were to follow a stray suggestion from the dying minister—the entire plan could collapse.

A Pretext for a Visit

Yuan Shikai knew he needed to travel to Beijing to assess the situation personally, but as a regional official, he could not leave his post without imperial permission. He found his opportunity in the planned imperial visit to the Western Tombs the following spring—part of Cixi’s effort to restore ritual propriety after the disruptions of the Boxer Rebellion and the Allied invasion.

When court eunuch Li Lianying casually suggested that Yuan be summoned to report on the railway conditions near the tombs, Cixi agreed. Yuan received his orders to proceed to the capital.

The Audience with Ronglu

Yuan arrived in Beijing well-prepared, bringing not only ample silver for gifts but also a large chest of medicines—both Chinese and Western—for Ronglu’s respiratory illness. After paying his respects at the palace, Yuan went straight to Ronglu’s residence.

He found Ronglu weak and pale, but lucid. The two exchanged pleasantries, with Yuan affecting deep concern and Ronglu speaking with unusual candor about his impending death. Yuan presented the medicines and spoke at length with Ronglu’s adopted son, Liangkuai, displaying what appeared to be genuine empathy and concern.

When the two were alone, Ronglu asked Yuan to look after his family after his death—a request Yuan eagerly promised to honor. Yet beneath the surface of this emotional exchange, both men were engaged in a subtle dance of political negotiation. Yuan sought reassurance that Ronglu would recommend Prince Qing as his successor; Ronglu, though appreciative of Yuan’s loyalty, remained cautious.

A Window into Ronglu’s Worldview

In one of the most revealing moments of their conversation, Ronglu reflected on his career and the misunderstandings he had endured from colleagues and superiors alike—from Shen Guifen and Bao Yun to the Emperor himself. He spoke of how he had never bothered to defend himself, trusting that time would reveal his true intentions.

He also discussed the case of Weng Tonghe, the former tutor to the Emperor who had fallen out of favor. Ronglu claimed that, despite widespread calls for severe punishment, he had advised Cixi to allow Weng to retire peacefully to his hometown. Had he wished to harm Weng, Ronglu noted, he could have left him exposed to the intrigues of reactionary princes like Zaiyi during the Boxer turmoil—a period when even the Empress Dowager struggled to control the violence and chaos.

This digression was more than just reminiscence; it was Ronglu’s way of asserting his moral and political consistency while subtly reminding Yuan that power, in the end, was fleeting and unpredictable.

The Implications of the Succession Struggle

The competition to succeed Ronglu was emblematic of broader tensions within the Qing government. The strict preference for Manchu leadership alienated talented Han officials and reinforced ethnic divisions at a time when the empire needed unity. The reliance on personal connections and palace intrigue—exemplified by Yuan’s lobbying and the role of court insiders like Li Lianying—highlighted the informal, often corrupt mechanisms that actually governed Qing politics.

Moreover, the episode illustrated the declining health of the imperial system itself. As dedicated public servants like Ronglu passed away, they were replaced by less capable or more self-interested figures. Prince Qing, though competent, was known for his corruption and favor-trading—a fact that would later undermine efforts at reform.

Yuan Shikai’s Rise and the Fall of the Qing

Yuan’s efforts to influence the succession were ultimately successful: after Ronglu’s death, Prince Qing did assume a leading role in the Grand Council, and Yuan’s own power grew accordingly. He would go on to become one of the most influential figures of the late Qing, playing a key role in the New Policies reforms and eventually betraying the dynasty by negotiating the abdication of the last emperor in 1912.

In many ways, the episode surrounding Ronglu’s illness foreshadowed the end of imperial rule. The court’s obsession with ethnic quotas, personal loyalties, and backroom deals prevented it from addressing the profound challenges facing China. When the Revolution of 1911 finally erupted, the Qing government found itself without enough competent or committed leaders to survive.

Legacy and Historical Reflections

The struggle to succeed Ronglu offers a microcosm of late Qing politics—a world of intense personal ambition set against a backdrop of institutional decline. It reminds us that political outcomes are often determined not by broad ideological forces but by the calculations of individuals operating within narrow constraints.

Historians have often criticized Yuan Shikai for his opportunism, but his actions in 1903 were rational within the system he inhabited. In a regime where formal rules counted for less than personal connections, cultivating patrons and influencing appointments was essential for survival.

Ronglu, for his part, has been viewed more sympathetically by historians. Though a conservative, he was a competent administrator who understood the limits of power and the importance of restraint. His death marked the end of an era—the passing of one of the last senior statesmen who could balance the competing interests of the court.

Conclusion: Personal Politics in a Fading Empire

The illness of Ronglu and the political maneuvering it inspired reveal much about the nature of power in late imperial China. They show us a system increasingly reliant on personal relationships and increasingly unable to address its structural problems. They also illustrate the enduring tension between Manchu and Han, between court and province, and between reform and conservatism.

In the end, the episode is a story of human ambition, loyalty, and survival set within a dying regime. It reminds us that history is often shaped in small, intimate moments—in whispered conversations at a sickbed, in the careful packaging of medicines, and in the unspoken agreements between powerful people. And it challenges us to remember that even the grand narratives of dynastic collapse begin with individual choices, made in real time, by people who could not always see the future they were creating.