The Twilight of the Qing Dynasty

Emperor Xianfeng (1831–1861), born Aisin-Gioro Yizhu, ascended the Qing throne in 1850 at the age of 20. His reign unfolded against a backdrop of unprecedented crisis: the Taiping Rebellion ravaged southern China, European powers humiliated the empire in the Opium Wars, and internal corruption festered. Unlike his formidable ancestors—Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong—Xianfeng inherited a crumbling empire he proved ill-equipped to save.

Physically frail (he walked with a limp from a hunting accident and bore smallpox scars) and emotionally unstable, Xianfeng became a symbol of imperial decline. Official records praised his “majestic voice and dignified bearing,” but private accounts reveal a ruler who sought escape in wine, women, and opium as his kingdom disintegrated.

The Making of a Failed Emperor

### A Troubled Upbringing
Xianfeng’s personality was shaped by palace intrigues. His mother, Empress Xiaoquancheng, died mysteriously in 1840 when he was just nine—likely a victim of succession struggles. Raised by a stepmother who favored her own son (Prince Gong), Xianfeng developed deep-seated insecurity. His tutor, Du Shoutian, famously coached him to win the throne through calculated meekness during a hunting competition, where Xianfeng claimed moral superiority by refusing to kill animals.

### Early Promise, Swift Decline
Initially, Xianfeng showed glimmers of reformist zeal. He solicited policy advice, notably from official Xu Jiyu, whose warnings against extravagance, complacency, and isolation became the emperor’s “motto to live by.” For a brief period, his appointments of capable officials like Zeng Guofan sparked hope.

Yet these efforts collapsed under the weight of crises. The 1860 Anglo-French invasion of Beijing—which forced Xianfeng to flee to Rehe Province as the Old Summer Palace burned—marked his psychological breaking point. As historian records note: “With rebellions raging and foreign troops advancing, the emperor drowned his fears in wine and opera.”

The Court of Decadence

### Obsession with Pleasure
Xianfeng’s court became a theater of excess:
– The “Four Spring Consorts”: He housed favored concubines (including Han Chinese women, violating Manchu tradition) in themed pavilions like “Peony Spring” and “Apricot Blossom Spring.”
– Opera Mania: He traveled with a 200-member opera troupe, even during wartime retreats. On his deathbed, he demanded performances until two days before his demise.
– Chemical Escapes: The emperor relied on aphrodisiacs, deer blood tonics, and opium (“Longevity Elixir Paste”), further ruining his health.

### Political Abdication
Xianfeng’s hedonism created a power vacuum. His trusted minister, Sushun, encouraged his debauchery to monopolize governance, while Empress Dowager Cian (his principal wife) increasingly managed state affairs. Most consequentially, he allowed Concubine Yi (the future Empress Dowager Cixi) to review memorials—an unprecedented role for a consort that planted seeds for her later dominance.

The Poisoned Legacy

### Seeds of the Dowager’s Rise
On his deathbed in 1861, Xianfeng made catastrophic decisions:
1. The Seal Gambit: He granted two imperial seals—”御赏” (for Cian) and “同道堂” (for his heir, controlled by Cixi)—requiring both to validate edicts. This dual-authority system ignited a power struggle.
2. Failure to Remove Cixi: Despite warnings to emulate Emperor Wu of Han (who executed his heir’s mother to prevent meddling), Xianfeng hesitated. Sushun’s plea to “act as Han Wudi did” went unheeded.

The result? The 1861 Xinyou Coup, where Cixi and Cian overthrew Sushun’s regency council, inaugurating a half-century of dowager rule.

### Demographic Collapse
Xianfeng’s dissipated lifestyle ravaged the imperial lineage. Of his three children (a historic low for Qing rulers), only one survived—Tongzhi, Cixi’s son. This demographic crisis left the throne vulnerable to manipulation, as Cixi’s control over the sole heir guaranteed her influence.

Lessons from a Collapse

Xianfeng’s reign epitomizes how personal failings can accelerate systemic decline. His physical weakness, emotional instability, and escapism mirrored the Qing Dynasty’s vulnerabilities. By neglecting governance for sensual pursuits, he enabled Cixi’s rise—a reminder that power abhors a vacuum.

Modern historians see his reign as a hinge moment: the last gasp of traditional Chinese emperorship before the centrifugal forces of rebellion, foreign imperialism, and court feminization reshaped China’s destiny. The “跛龙病凤掌朝堂” (lame dragon and ailing phoenix ruling the court) became an enduring metaphor for institutional decay.

In the end, Xianfeng’s tragedy was not merely his own, but China’s—a warning about the cost of leadership unmoored from duty.