A Throne Shadowed by Regents

Emperor Tongzhi ascended the Qing dynasty’s Dragon Throne in 1861 at just six years old, inheriting an empire weakened by the Opium Wars and Taiping Rebellion. His reign was destined to unfold under the long shadow of regency—specifically, the joint rule of his mother, the formidable Empress Dowager Cixi, and the more reticent Empress Dowager Ci’an. This power dynamic would shape not only state affairs but also the young emperor’s personal life in profoundly tragic ways.

By 1872, when Tongzhi reached marriageable age, what should have been a celebratory rite of passage became a political battleground. Cixi deliberately delayed his wedding—and by extension, his assumption of full imperial powers—for years. When the selection of an empress finally proceeded, court factions polarized around two candidates: the virtuous Lady Alute (supported by Tongzhi and Ci’an) and the politically connected Lady Fucha (championed by Cixi). The emperor’s choice of Alute as empress, while initially supported by both dowagers, planted seeds of future marital discord.

The Marriage Crisis and a Silent Betrayal

Historical accounts paint a poignant scene: the frustrated young emperor sought Ci’an’s intervention in his troubled marriage. Cixi’s interference had turned the imperial household into a minefield—she openly favored Consort Hui (Lady Fucha) while marginalizing Empress Alute. Tongzhi hoped the senior dowager, who had originally endorsed his choice, might mediate.

Yet in a moment that revealed the court’s intricate power dynamics, Ci’an remained silent. Her inaction stemmed from complex calculations: fear of provoking Cixi, reluctance to disrupt harem politics, and perhaps self-preservation. This abandonment left the emperor emotionally adrift—disillusioned with both his political impotence and domestic unhappiness. As one court observer noted, “The Son of Heaven found himself sovereign in name but prisoner in fact.”

Descent Into Dissipation

Isolated and powerless, Tongzhi became vulnerable to negative influences. His entourage now included:
– Eunuchs with questionable motives
– Zaicheng, the witty and worldly son of Prince Gong
– Wang Qingqi, an ambitious court lecturer

These companions introduced the sheltered monarch to Beijing’s forbidden pleasures. Through their eyes, he discovered:
– The bustling curios of Liulichang market
– Raucous wine houses where scholars gambled over poetry games
– The infamous “Eight Great Lanes” entertainment district

Zaicheng, particularly, facilitated Tongzhi’s incognito excursions. Donning dark glasses and commoner’s attire (a practice called weixing or “micro-journeys”), the emperor slipped past palace guards. These escapades, while offering temporary escape, carried immense risk—both to his health and the dynasty’s dignity.

When the Emperor Walked Among Commoners

Multiple documented sightings reveal the surreal reality of China’s ruler mingling anonymously:

Prince Yimo, a study companion, once encountered the disguised emperor on a bustling street. Despite tearful pleas for propriety, Tongzhi merely bowed politely and continued his adventure.

More awkward was the encounter with Mao Changxi, the Minister of Personnel, at a tavern. Recognizing his sovereign, Mao discreetly arranged military protection—an act that backfired when soldiers surrounded the establishment, drawing unwanted attention.

As rumors spread through Beijing’s tea houses, they reached the ears of Prince Gong. The seasoned statesman confronted Tongzhi with damning evidence: “My son Zaicheng witnessed it.” The emperor’s feeble denial collapsed under precise details of time and location.

The Scandal That Shook the Forbidden City

By late 1874, whispers of the emperor’s behavior reached critical mass. Then came the physical reckoning—on October 30, Tongzhi developed alarming symptoms: fever, rashes, and genital lesions. Court physicians Li Deli and Zhuang Shouhe immediately recognized the signs of syphilis but dared not speak the diagnosis.

In a telling power play, they deferred to Cixi, who declared it smallpox (tianhua). This convenient diagnosis triggered elaborate rituals:
– Worship of the “Smallpox Goddess” (Douzhen Niangniang)
– Mandatory red silk adornments for officials
– Special promotions for Cixi’s allies like Ronglu

The charade continued even as Tongzhi’s condition worsened. Contemporary physicians note the tragic misdiagnosis: while smallpox lesions appear uniformly, syphilitic sores manifest asymmetrically—a distinction ignored to preserve imperial dignity.

Legacy of a Broken Reign

Tongzhi’s death at nineteen (officially from smallpox, though historians debate syphilis) marked more than personal tragedy. It represented:
1. The Failure of Regency Rule – Cixi’s prolonged grip on power stunted the emperor’s political development
2. Cultural Hypocrisies – The elaborate “smallpox celebrations” exposed courtly pretense
3. Dynastic Consequences – With no heir, Cixi installed her nephew as Guangxu Emperor, extending her dominance

Modern scholars view Tongzhi’s reign as a case study in how familial power struggles can destabilize empires. His attempted rebellions—whether through marital choices or nocturnal escapades—reveal a universal human struggle against oppressive systems. The very streets he wandered now form Beijing’s tourist districts, where guides still recount tales of the lonely emperor who sought freedom beyond vermilion walls.

The tragedy lingers in China’s collective memory: a ruler who belonged neither to his throne nor to himself, whose brief life illuminated the gilded cage of absolute power. As the Qing dynasty’s decline accelerated in subsequent decades, Tongzhi’s thwarted potential became emblematic of an empire that had lost its way.