A Phoenix Is Forever Chase Ashlyn

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Also by Ashlyn Chase
STRANGE NEIGHBORS
Strange Neighbors
The Werewolf Upstairs
The Vampire Next Door

FLIRTING WITH FANGS

Flirting Under a Full Moon
How to Date a Dragon
Kissing with Fangs

BOSTON DRAGONS
I Dream of Dragons
My Wild Irish Dragon
Never Dare a Dragon

PHOENIX BROTHERS
Hooked on a Phoenix
More than a Phoenix
A Phoenix Is Forever
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Books. Change. Lives.

Copyright © 2019 by Ashlyn Chase
Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover art by Aleta Rafton

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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used
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 Contents

Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
An Excerpt of I Dream of Dragons
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
This book is dedicated to all the police officers who let me go with a
warning, investigated a strange noise outside my window, or had a
little chat with a troublesome neighbor…

But especially, this book is dedicated to the officer (who does not
want to be named because he was technically outside his job
description) who went above and beyond to rescue my fur baby.

Thank you, gentlemen and ladies! You aren’t appreciated enough.

 Chapter 1

He was actually a cop. A real, bona fide police officer.

Luca Fierro walked out of the precinct wearing his new BPD
uniform as a Boston patrolman trainee. As the new guy, he would be
on the graveyard shift for a while with his more experienced field
training officer, Joe.
Luca had already taken plenty of ribbing from the guys during roll
call. They all knew the Fierro name because his family were
legendary firefighters.
“Hey, Fierro, aren’t you wearing the wrong uniform?”
He just smiled or said, “Very funny, guys.”
“So how does it feel to be a genuine cop, not a cadet?” Joe asked.
“You don’t remember? How long have you been on the job?”
Joe laughed. “Fifteen fun-filled years.” They paused a moment to
get into their cruiser. Joe took the driver’s seat. He may have carried
an extra twenty or thirty pounds, but he seemed agile enough.
“Did you have a difficult adjustment?” Luca asked as he buckled
his seat belt.
“Not really. My dad was a cop, so that may have helped me ease
into the job.”
Luca couldn’t help being uncomfortable. Some cops had real
problems with firefighters. They called them “hose draggers” and
didn’t like being accused of “pillow envy,” because firefighters were
allowed to sleep on the night shift.
Similarly, the firefighters weren’t always fond of cops. His own
family called him the “blue sheep.”
Luca answered the original question. “I feel good about finally
getting started on the job. I’ve trained long and hard for this.”
Joe was quiet as he pulled out of the station’s parking lot, so Luca
continued. “My folks weren’t in favor of my going into law
enforcement, but they were okay with my studying criminal justice
at Northeastern University. They thought I’d change my mind after
learning what was involved. If anything, studying the subject made
me want it even more.”
“Oh, shit,” Joe said. “You’re a college grad? You know why it’s
called a BS degree, right? You know too much to be clueless but not
enough to deal with those weird situations they didn’t prepare you
for.” He smirked.
“In other words, you think I know just enough to be dangerous?”
“Maybe. What did they teach you there?”
“All kinds of things. Ethics, courtroom procedures, criminal law,
corrections, crime scene management, computer investigation,
domestic and international terrorism… I want to be a detective
someday.”
Joe nodded.
Luca had to get used to one of the aspects of being a cop, and
that was not giving too much away. Just answer the questions you’re
asked and no more. Sometimes volunteering information got you
into hot water.
He’d have to guard his family’s secrets even more carefully.
Joe turned onto a busy street. Luca wondered how long it would
be before Joe felt comfortable trading off driving duties.
 “So, fifteen years… You must’ve seen it all.”
“You’ve never seen it all, kid. You might hear about some crazy
stuff at the bar though. If it doesn’t happen to you, it’s happened to
someone else.”
Patrolling the city was sometimes tedious and sometimes
terrifying. It was that on-and-off pace and the fact of never knowing
what was around the corner that both intrigued and made most first-
years anxious, to say the least.
It wasn’t long before they came across a car speeding and driving
erratically. “Shit,” Joe said. “I might chalk that up to a typical Boston
driver, but the damn car almost sideswiped us.”
Luca made a quick call to dispatch, notifying them of the ten code,
the vehicle’s description, and their approximate location. They turned
on the lights and took off after it, spotting the car climbing the ramp
onto the Southeast Expressway.
“Dammit,” Joe swore. “I hate stopping drivers on the expressway.”
“Can’t you get them to pull off at the next exit?”
“We can hope.” Joe went in pursuit of the black Mercedes sedan.
Instead of taking the next off-ramp, the driver pulled over and
stopped right on the bridge.
“Fuck. This is going to slow traffic to a crawl.”
“Can I approach the driver?” Luca asked.
Joe opened his door. “Be my guest.”
Luca, noting only one person in the vehicle, knocked on the
passenger-side window, and she rolled it down. Yep, he smelled
alcohol. And this woman looked almost clown-like with the amount
of heavy makeup she was wearing. “License and registration,
please.”
The woman heaved a vodka-laced sigh, dug through her purse,
and produced a wallet. She removed and handed over a current
Massachusetts driver’s license. Then she opened the glove
compartment, found her registration, and handed that to him also.
He scanned the information and said, “Do you know why we
stopped you, Priscilla?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’ve been driving erratically. Have you been drinking?”
“I am not drunk.”
“Step out of the car, please.”
The woman sat right where she was and folded her arms.
“You can prove you’re sober with a field sobriety test, ma’am.
Please step out of the car.”
“I don’t have to. I don’t have to take a Breathalyzer, and I don’t
have to walk a straight line. I know my rights.”
“I’m sure you do, ma’am, but we’ll have to take you in to the
station if we suspect you’re drunk. I smell alcohol, and you’ve been
speeding and weaving all over the road, so you’re giving me no
other choice. The public’s safety is at stake.”
“You’ll have to drag me out of this car.”
“Ma’am, at this point, you’re forcing me to place you under arrest.
If you don’t exit the car, you’ll be adding a charge of resisting arrest.
Is that really what you want to do?”
She blew out another deep, vodka-heavy breath. The door flew
open, and Luca met her in front of the vehicle while Joe ran the
plate.
Luca was almost six feet tall. This woman had to be six two
without the stilettos. That made her about six and a half feet…and
wobbling.
“Turn around and put your hands on the car, please.”
The woman placed her hands on her hips and looked at him
defiantly.
 Luca raised his voice. “Turn around and place your hands on the
hood of your car. Now.”
“Why? Are you going to pat me down?”
“At some point, yes. We need to know you’re not carrying any
concealed weapons.”
By this time, Joe was rolling his eyes and came over to join him.
“Lady, you’re going to be frisked, but that can happen later.” He gave
Luca a pointed look. “Cuff her up.”
“You’re not touching me!”
“Jesus,” Luca muttered. He gazed at Joe, hoping he would have
the right words to gain her cooperation, but it didn’t look like Joe
had any such magic. Instead, he reached out, grabbed her arm, and
spun her so her torso was leaning against the car. Meanwhile, he
had her arm in a viselike grip behind her back.
“Owww. You’re hurting me.”
“Cuff her, Fierro,” Joe said.
Luca took her other wrist and folded it behind her back. He had his
cuffs out, but she struggled as soon as he tried to put them on her.
“Don’t resist.”
She struggled harder. “Leave me alone. You guys are brutalizing
me. I’m going to file a complaint.”
“Please do. Our dash cam will show you’ve been given several
chances to cooperate.”
At that point, she flipped around and ran across the highway,
causing cars to stop and blow their horns. Luca gave chase. He
eventually had to tackle her to keep her from crossing the line into
oncoming traffic. Once he had her on the ground, he was able to
cuff the other wrist.
Shit. I have to learn to get the handcuffs out faster—but not too
fast. There were a lot of things he could do quicker and better than
a human, but he couldn’t give away his paranormal abilities. He had
superhuman strength and speed, but a cop wouldn’t let it go if they
witnessed something out of the ordinary. And he’d be in so much
trouble with the paranormal community if he let humans know what
he really was.
Joe joined him and the two of them lifted her to her feet. She
immediately started kicking and screaming. They had to half lead
and half drag her across the road, back to their cruiser.
“You see?” She was yelling at the cars that had stopped. “You see
the brutality? I want witness statements. I want you all to call the
Boston police commissioner and tell him what you’ve seen.”
Luca and Joe were beyond reasoning with her at this point. Joe
just opened the back door of the cruiser and told her to get in.
“I don’t want to. Make me.”
Luca shook his head. What the fuck do we do now? Fold her in
half and put her in there like a quesadilla?
Apparently, pushing on her head and shoving her into the back
seat, then grappling with those long legs and spiky heels was the
only option.
“Knock it off, lady. Kicking a police officer with shoes like that is a
felony in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” Joe shouted.
“Ha! I don’t believe you.”
“We can add it to the charges if that will convince you.”
As soon as she had been stuffed into the seat and seat-belted
securely, Luca slammed the door shut and joined Joe in the front
seat. “Holy shit. That is one determined woman,” he muttered.
“Yup. This one’s feisty.”
As a car pulled around them, the passenger rolled down his
window and yelled out, “It took two of you to arrest a girl. Pussies!”
Then he and the driver laughed and drove off.
 Wonderful. Adolescent humor. Just what we needed.
“I have to pee,” said Priscilla from the back seat.
“We’ll be at the station in a few minutes,” Joe replied, glancing up
at the rearview mirror, then he turned to Luca. “Officer Fierro, would
you be good enough to read our collar her rights?”
“Crap,” he muttered. With all the distractions, he’d forgotten about
the damn Miranda rights. What a rookie mistake. “You have the right
to remain silent.”
Priscilla began singing. “Silent night, holy night…”
Luca tried raising his voice to be heard over her, but that only
made her sing louder.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Then he joined in and sang her her rights to
the tune of the famous Christmas carol. “You have the right to an
attorney. If you can’t afford one, one will be appointed. If you decide
to answer questions now, you have the right to stop until you talk to
an attorney…”
“All right! All right!” she yelled. “Just stop. Your voice is worse than
mine.”
“Great.” He finished the speech in a normal voice. “So, do you
understand your rights as I’ve explained them to you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney
present?”
“No. Not until I pee first. I’m apt to wet your back seat if I don’t
get to a bathroom soon.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Joe muttered. He had Luca call the
station and inform them of the arrest and where the tow truck could
find her car.
Their passenger was singing again. She certainly wasn’t a lounge
singer, but now she was crying too. Her voice wobbled and cracked
as she belted out a loud rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed
Reindeer.”
Luca glanced over at Joe and raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t
Christmas. It wasn’t even Halloween yet. He couldn’t wait to get to
the station they had left only forty minutes ago.
“So, is this normal for a Monday night?” Luca asked.
“Normal?” Joe chuckled. “Fridays are usually heavy OUI nights, but
nothing is ‘normal.’”
“Okay. Let me rephrase. Do you deal with this often? Including this
level of uncooperativeness?”
“Her? This is nothing. Just wait until you have to arrest a suspect
wearing green in a rowdy crowd on St. Patrick’s Day.”

***
After his first shift, Luca was exhausted, but the adrenaline that
surged through his veins would keep him awake for quite a while. He
decided to call his girlfriend, Lisa, hoping she was awake. All he
wanted was to curl up with her. Unfortunately, they rarely had a
place where they could get horizontal.
Neither her parents nor his knew they were dating. Hers because
her father was a hard-ass cop and hated firefighters, and his
because his mother would have them walking down the aisle in a
month. They’d started dating in college, and both of them
commuted from home. Their living situations had led them to have
sex in some pretty unusual places—including once in a church!
Lisa’s father was a police sergeant, and if Luca had to admit it,
hoping to gain his approval was one of the reasons why he had
chosen to become a cop instead of a firefighter. He’d already been
ninety-five percent there in his decision, but his feelings for Lisa
tipped his decision to one hundred percent.
 Luca had also hoped that he could remove the “fear of the
unknown” factor if he was known to her father through the police
department.
At first, it was fun to keep their relationship a secret from their
families. He fancied himself the bad boy, sneaking around for a
couple of years, but it had begun to grate on Luca. He hated
keeping secrets from loved ones, but his entire life was a secret, so
he could do it. Lisa had no idea what he truly was and what he could
actually do. But he’d cross that bridge later.
On his way home, he called Lisa with his car’s Bluetooth
technology.
A sleepy hello greeted him.
“Hi, beautiful. It’s Luca.”
“I know. Your ringtone is ‘secret lover.’”
He groaned. “Aren’t you afraid that will tip off your father?”
“No. The only radio he listens to is the police scanner.”
“Well, speaking of that, I just worked my first shift.”
She yawned. “How did it go?”
“Terrible. I was hoping you could meet me somewhere. I think I
need a hug.”
She laughed. “Buck up. I can’t always be there to give you a hug
after a tough shift.”
Luca wasn’t thrilled with that answer. Sure, he didn’t expect her to
drop everything and run to him every time he had a bad day. He
wasn’t a baby—despite being the youngest, and all his older brothers
accusing him of being coddled. That was another reason he’d chosen
to be a cop instead of a firefighter. He wanted to show them he was
as brave and tough as they were—if not more so.
“I know that, but this was my very first shift, and it makes me
wonder if they’re all this rough. Do you want to hear about my
bruises?”
“Not particularly.”
What the hell? She wasn’t usually so cranky. Well, she could be,
but not when he was vulnerable. “What gives? Are you having a bad
day already? It sounds like you just woke up.”
“No. I’m not having a bad day. I’m having a bad several months. I
thought you becoming a cop would be okay since you were aiming
for detective someday. They make decent money—not the crap
salary they’re paying you to get beat up now. But it’s not just the
money. I’m afraid you’ll become hardened like my dad.”
“I’m not your dad. Not even close.”
“Did you meet him?”
“Yeah. He was in on a practical joke that just topped off my night.”
“Oh, come on. You had to expect them to prank the rookie.” After
a long sigh, she said, “Okay. What did they do?”
“Someone broke into my locker, stole my car keys, moved my car,
and put the keys back. I thought my car had been stolen.”
She laughed. “That’s a good one.”
Good? Luca could barely believe what he was hearing. “Lisa. It
wasn’t just that. They tried to make me think I’d forgotten where I’d
parked it. That maybe I was crazy and didn’t even own a car. They
were trying to humiliate me.”
“And what did you do?”
“I was about to put out a BOLO when they finally told me where
they’d put it—and laughed like hyenas.”
“In other words, you played right into their hands.”
“Huh? No! What the hell is going on with you, hon? I called to get
a little sympathy, and you’re being…well, very unsympathetic.” He
would never call her a bitch—even though she was acting like one.
 “Look, Luca. I’ve been having second thoughts…about us. I’ve
been wanting to tell you this for a while, and this might not be the
best timing, but it’s got to be said. I don’t think you’re cut out for
police work. Nobody knows you better than I do, right? By the time
you make detective, they’ll have broken you. I don’t want to be
shackled to a broken man.”
After a shocked pause, he sputtered, “Why are you telling me this
now? I’ve committed to being a cop. Hell, I’ve just had my first shift
and it beat the crap out of me.”
“That was your choice. I thought you were just trying to say ‘Up
yours’ to your family. I still do.”
“Why would I do that? I have a good relationship with my family,
or I did before I said I wanted to be a cop.”
“Okay, okay. Look, it doesn’t matter what your reasons were. I
want to see other people.”
And there it was. The bottom had just dropped out of his world.

***
Instead of going straight home, Luca parked nearby and started to
walk off his hurt and frustration. He wasn’t in the best part of town,
but he didn’t care. He wasn’t in the best mood either. How the heck
had he gotten to this point in his life? Up until a short while ago, he
had been hopeful about his future. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Still
wearing his police uniform, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets
and walked aimlessly with his head down.
Half an hour later, nearing the fountain of the Christian Science
Center, a popular destination for tourists and locals alike, he barely
noticed the regal elegance of the domed structure overlooking the
calm reflecting pool. But in the quiet of the early morning, his ears
perked up in sudden alert when he heard a woman’s strained gasp.
 He glanced up and saw a young woman standing near the
fountain. She was about five six with short, spiky brown hair,
wearing a black leather jacket. Neck tattoos and a lot of piercings
gave her a bad-girl vibe, but what was even odder was that she was
staring right at him, wide-eyed. Then she passed out.
“Shit,” he muttered and ran over—faster than a human could.
Worried she could wind up with a concussion, he cradled her head
before she hit the pavement. He shook her shoulder and shouted,
“Hey! Are you all right?”
Eventually, she opened her eyes. Big gray-green eyes. Unusual.
Supporting her back, he helped her sit up.
“What’s the matter?” He was tempted to ask if she’d ever seen a
cop before, but that was because he was in a crappy mood. Sarcasm
aside, he was trained not to assume what was going on in a person’s
brain. Asking open-ended questions would gain more information.
“I…saw blood.” She paused and closed those big green eyes again,
taking a deep breath. “I always faint at the sight of blood.”
“What do you mean? You saw an accident or someone get hurt?”
Luca gentled his voice in concern. Perhaps she’d witnessed a murder
and had a delayed reaction.
She shook her head and reached out to grasp his hand. “Look, this
may sound crazy,” she said, “but I’m a psychic. I saw you walking
this way, and I got a dreadful feeling. Did something just happen to
you? I see auras and have premonitions. Your aura is just…well,
terrible. Then I had a vision. I saw you covered in blood.”
Blood? Luca helped her to stand. He believed in psychics—the
genuine kind. After all, he was a shape-shifter, and he came from a
family of shifters. But there were a lot of charlatans out there.
Given where his head was at after just being dumped by Lisa, he
could only imagine what kind of energy he was giving off, let alone
his aura…but blood? This chick could just be some wacko.
He folded his arms. “Do you want money to tell me more?”
“No! I’m not like that. I help people. Maybe the accident I just saw
is something you can prevent from happening.”
He cocked his head. “You saw an accident? Where?”
“On a side street. It looked like an older part of town. They were
just kids. Maybe sixteen or seventeen at the most. It looked like they
were drag racing. A little kid rode his bike into the street and he was
struck by one of the cars.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I see through other people’s eyes. I
think I was looking through yours.”
Luca wanted to stay open-minded in case she was the real deal.
“Some more weird energy is clinging to you,” she went on, her
expression seeming earnest. “I think it has to do with other people
in your life. Your aura is red. Angry. But it feels justified—and not
just that. I-I feel as if someone is out to get you.”
Who could be out to get him? Was it just his fellow cops, taking
advantage of the rookie? Doubtful. That was just for their own
chuckles and part of the usual hazing. Something all newbies went
through.
No, his dark mood was due to getting dumped. Lisa had acted
strange that morning, but he didn’t see her as a danger. Did she
have someone else already, and maybe that someone considered
him a threat?
He was still mulling over the possibilities when the spiky-haired girl
pulled out a card and wrote her name and number on the back.
“I’m sorry if you think I’m trying to take advantage of you. I’m not.
Knowing that cops are usually close-minded about psychics, I
wouldn’t have even bothered, except I think you’re in danger. And
those kids certainly are.”
Glancing at the card, he saw the name she’d written. Dawn Forest.
He flipped the card over. It read ScholarTech: Academic Software for
Brilliant Minds.
“Is that your real name?”
“Yeah. If I were going to come up with a fake name, it would be
better than that.”
“You mean something exotic, like Zelda the Magnificent?”
She laughed. “No. Something like Susan Jones. I don’t think my
mom realized how many times people would ask me if my name was
fake or if my middle name was ‘in-the.’”
“So you work at this software company?” He wondered why
someone who looked like her, with her tats and piercings, would be
working for a company that created academic software.
“Yes, I just started there last month. Someday, I’ll get my own
business cards instead of the generic ones.”
“Your look doesn’t exactly scream ‘corporate head office.’”
“Well, your assumption is outdated,” she retorted, hands firmly on
her hips. “I have a college degree and was top in my class. Not to
mention, I’m the only person at ScholarTech, including the
engineers, who can recite the entire software manual by heart.”
“Wow. And you’ve only been there a month? How did you learn
everything in so short a time?”
“I have a photographic memory.”
“You’re a psychic and you have a photographic memory? Shouldn’t
you be raking in the big bucks on Wall Street?” Luca flashed her his
trademark grin. It usually got him out of hot water. She smiled back
and visibly relaxed.
 He took a good look at her, past the tats and piercings and spiky
hair, and noticed how pretty she was. Her nose was slightly turned
up and covered with cute freckles. The tiny diamond stud in her left
nostril almost got lost among them. Her hair made her look like a
pixie. Maybe the badass tattoos and piercings were a way to
counteract all that cuteness and be taken seriously.
“So do you do anything with your psychic talent, professionally?”
“Like working at a tea room? Or doing parties? No.”
“Anything other than stopping strangers on the street?”
She looked at her feet and kicked at the pavement with the end of
her leather-booted toe. “Sometimes. If friends ask me for help, I do
what I can for them.”
There was something about her body language that had him
questioning that statement.
He tucked her business card into his jacket pocket. “It was nice to
meet you, Dawn Forest. I should be getting home though. I worked
the night shift, and I need to get some sleep.”
“Okay. Watch your back,” she said and returned to her spot by the
fountain to retrieve her backpack.
When he finally reached his family’s brownstone, he jogged up the
steps and tried to change his facial expression. His mother would
pick up on any tension or anger he might still be feeling. He and his
brothers teased their mom about being psychic, but she was just
intuitive and knew her sons well.
He wondered about what Dawn Forest had said to him. Had she
seen something real in his future—some kind of danger to an
unsuspecting child that he could actually prevent? Could she have a
genuine gift? He certainly didn’t rule it out, based on his own
abilities and the abilities of his family. Plus she seemed so earnest
and not high or strung out, something his cop training had made
him all too aware of when moving around the city streets.
After taking a few deep breaths and straightening his posture, he
opened the door and strode in confidently.
Gabriella Fierro came out of the kitchen with a platter of scrambled
eggs that she placed on the enormous dining table. “Luca! You’re
just in time for breakfast. I want to hear all about your first day on
the job.”
“First night, you mean. I’m exhausted, Ma. I just want to fall into
bed.” He warred with himself. He wanted those scrambled eggs
almost as much as he wanted his pillow.
“I’ll bet. But you’ll sleep better if you have something in your
stomach.”
“Unless you just ate a bunch of doughnuts.” His father, always the
joker, came from the kitchen carrying a plate piled high with slices of
toast in one hand and the butter dish in the other.
Ah, the hell with it. “Would you mind if I just made a breakfast
sandwich and took it to my room?”
Gabriella was moving toward the silverware drawer but stopped
and turned around. “Did something happen that you don’t want to
talk about?”
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Please, Son. Sit,” Antonio Fierro said. As much as his father loved
to joke around, he also knew when to be serious.
Luca’s posture sagged, and he slumped into a dining chair.
“So, tell us what happened.” Gabriella finished gathering the
silverware and distributed it to the three of them.
Luca let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to say. I guess it was
a normal shift, but I got the rookie treatment at the end. They hid
my car. I thought it had been stolen.”
 “Oh, honey. That’s mean. I’m sorry to hear they did that.”
“Cops.” His father practically spat the word and shook his head.
“It’s okay. I figured they’d do something. I’m considering it a rite
of passage.”
Luca took two pieces of toast and scooped some scrambled eggs
between them. His mother always seasoned them with salt, pepper,
and a few hot spices. They were always delicious, and this morning,
the comfort food hit the spot.
He was suddenly glad he hadn’t moved in with Lisa. He could only
imagine how he would have felt going home to his apartment after a
bad first day at work, only to be dumped by his girlfriend in bed.
They dug into their food and didn’t speak while they ate. Luca
figured he’d dodged a bullet…figuratively, so far.
“Did something else happen? You seemed to take the prank in
stride.” Gabriella’s sharp mind picked up on the rest of his crap.
What could he tell her that would satisfy her curiosity but not alarm
her? He didn’t want to tell them he’d had a secret girlfriend since his
junior year and all those trips to the library were a ruse. But Dawn
wasn’t Lisa.
“There was this weird girl. She stopped me and said something
about being a psychic and picking up some strange energy. I doubt
it was anything.”
“Did she want money?” his father asked with eyes narrowed. His
dad was shrewd, and his mind usually went to scammers.
“No. If she had, I would’ve kept walking. But there was something
real about her… I don’t know how to describe it. Her concern
seemed genuine.”
“Did you ask what she meant by strange energy?” Gabriella asked.
“Yeah. We talked for a couple of minutes. I think it was just the
long shift, my being tired, and maybe the prank on top of everything
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Emperor T’ung-Chih, in accordance with precedent and the laws of
the Dynasty. The text of this remarkable document is as follows:—

“I, your worthless servant, have heard that the fact of a

nation being well governed does not necessarily preclude all
possibility of anarchy, nor does a nation at peace dismiss
altogether from mind the chances of violent disturbance;
should anarchy and rebellion be regarded as possibilities too
remote to merit a thought, it were idle and superfluous to
advise the Sovereign of so perfect a State. To ask the
Imperial wisdom to see danger where no real peril exists
would be simply inviting evil omens.
“On a former occasion I, your guilty servant, wittingly
incurred danger of death or imprisonment, because, in the
heat of indignation, I dared to remonstrate with the Throne. At
that time the Princes and Ministers about your Throne asked
permission to subject me to a criminal enquiry, but His late
Majesty T’ung-Chih was pleased to spare me, so that I neither
suffered death by the headsman’s sword nor imprisonment,
nor did I run the risk of further exciting the Imperial wrath by
my evidence before a criminal court. Thrice have I deserved,
without receiving, the penalty of death. Without desiring my
forfeit life, it was granted me, so that my last few years have
been, as it were, a boon at the hands of His late Majesty.
“But on the 5th day of the 12th Moon of the 13th year of
T’ung-Chih the earth was rent and heaven itself was shaken
by the great catastrophe, and on that day their Majesties the
Empresses Dowager issued the following Decree: ‘The
departed Emperor has mounted the Dragon and is become a
guest on high, leaving no heir to the Throne. We are
compelled to appoint Tsai T’ien, son of Prince Ch’un, to be
heir to His Majesty Hsien-Feng, to enter on the great
inheritance as the new Emperor. When to him an heir shall be
born, he shall become son by adoption to the late Emperor
T’ung-Chih.’
 “I, your unworthy servant, wept bitterly as, reverently
kneeling, I read this Decree. I cannot but feel, after most
careful consideration, that the Empresses Dowager have
doubly erred in appointing an heir to the Emperor Hsien-Feng
and not to His late Majesty. For thus the new Emperor, being
heir to His Majesty Hsien-Feng, enters upon the great
heritage not, as he should, by mandate of His late Majesty
T’ung-Chih, but by mandate of the Empresses. Hence the
future succession must, as a matter of course, revert to the
heir of the new Emperor, even though there should be no
explicit instructions to that effect. But, as this Decree
expressly ordains that this shall be so, it follows that a
precedent will be established, whereby the great inheritance
may pass by adoption.
“I, your unworthy servant, realise that it is no light matter for
a loyal subject to refer to the future death of a Sovereign while
that Sovereign is still alive, entitled to all his reverence and
devotion. But, for more than two centuries, the ancestral
tradition of our House-law has been observed that the Throne
shall pass from father to son, and this law should be
steadfastly maintained for ten thousand generations amongst
those of us who recognise a common descent. Moreover,
Prince Ch’un is a loyal statesman, justly revered by all as a
virtuous Prince. His Memorial has inspired every one of us
with fresh feelings of enthusiastic loyalty. His words are but
the mirror of his mind; how could any falseness find therein a
place? When I perused his Memorial, tears of joy irrepressible
fell from my eyes. If ever the Prince should learn of this my
humble Memorial, he may perchance be wroth at my
perversity or pity my folly; at all events he will never blame me
for endeavouring to stir up vain strife by my words.
“The new Emperor is of gentle disposition; from the
Empress Dowager he had received the ‘precious inheritance’
and until his dying day he will naturally be of one mind with
the Empresses in this matter. But in the Palace there are
sycophants as well as honest men, and many conflicting
opinions. To take examples from history: at the beginning of
the Sung Dynasty, even that great and good man the Grand
Secretary Chao P’u, led the way in obeying the orders of the
Empress Dowager Tu. Again, under the Ming Dynasty, a
venerable servant of the State, the Grand Secretary Wang
Chih, was ashamed that it should be left to a barbarian like
Huang Kung (native of an aboriginal tribe in Kuangsi) to
memorialise urging the lawful Heir Apparent’s succession to
the Emperor Ching-T’ai, when no Chinese official dared to do
so. If even virtuous men could act thus, what need to enquire
about disloyal subjects? If such be the conduct of old
servants, how shall we blame upstarts? To set aside settled
ordinances may be bad, but how much worse is our case
where no ordinances exist? We should therefore seek if
perchance we may find some way out of this double error,
whereby we may return to the right way. I therefore beg that
the Empresses may be pleased to issue a second Decree
explicitly stating that the great inheritance shall hereafter
revert to the adopted son of His late Majesty T’ung-Chih, and
that no Minister shall be allowed to upset this Decree, even
though the new Emperor be blessed with a hundred sons. If,
in this way, the succession be rectified and the situation
defined, so that further confusion be hereafter impossible, the
House-law of the present Dynasty will be observed, which
requires that the Throne be handed down from father to son.
Thus, to the late Emperor, now childless, an heir will be
provided and the Empresses Dowager will no longer be
without a grandson. And, for all time, the orderly maintenance
of the succession will be ascribed to the Empresses, whose
fame will be changeless and unending. This is what I, your
guilty servant, mean, when I say that the double error which
has been committed may yet serve to bring us back to the
right way.
“I, your most unworthy slave, had intended to memorialise
on this matter when His Majesty died, and to present the
Memorial through the Censorate. But it occurred to me that,
since I had lost my post, I was debarred from addressing the
Throne. Besides, how grave a matter is this! If advice in such
a matter be given by a Prince or a Minister, it is called the
sage and far-reaching counsel of a statesman; but if it comes
from a small and insignificant official it is called the idle
utterance of a wanton babbler. Never could I have believed
that the many wise and loyal statesmen of your Court could
one and all regard this as a matter of no immediate urgency,
dismissing it as a question unprofitable for discussion. I
waited, therefore, and the precious moments passed, but
none of them have moved in the matter.
“Afterwards, having received renewed marks of the Imperial
favour, and being again summoned to audience, I was
granted the position of a Board Secretary, and placed on the
Board of Appointments. This was more than four years ago;
yet all this time apparently not one of all the Ministers of your
Court has even given this grave matter a moment’s
consideration. The day for His late Majesty’s entombment has
now arrived, and I fear that what has happened will gradually
pass from the minds of men. The time, therefore, is short, and
the reasons which led me to delay hold good no longer.
Looking upward, as the divine soul of His Majesty soars
heavenward on the Dragon, wistfully I turn my eyes upon the
Palace enclosure. Beholding the bows and arrows left behind
on the Bridge Mountain,[36] my thoughts turn to the cherished
mementoes of my Sovereign. Humbly I offer up these years of
life that have been added unto me by His Majesty’s clemency;
humbly I lay them down in propitiation of the Empresses
Dowager, to implore from them a brief Decree on behalf of the
late Emperor.
“But, on the point of leaving this world, I feel that my mind is
confused. The text of this, my Memorial, lacks clearness;
there are manifold omissions in it. It has ever been my custom
to revise a draft twice before handing in a Memorial, but on
this occasion I have not been able to make such careful
revision. I, your unworthy servant, am no scholar like to the
men of old; how, then, could I be calm and collected as they
were wont to be? Once there went a man to his death, and he
could not walk erect. A bystander said to him ‘Are you afraid,
sir?’ He replied, ‘I am.’ ‘If you are afraid, why not turn back?’
He replied, ‘My fear is a private weakness; my death is a
public duty.’ This is the condition in which I find myself to-day.
‘When a bird is dying its song is sad. When a man is dying his
words are good.’[37] How could I, your worthless servant, dare
to compare myself with the sage Tseng Tzu? Though I am
about to die, yet may my words not be good; but I trust that
the Empresses and the Emperor will pity my last sad
utterance, regarding it neither as an evil omen nor the idle
plaint of one who has no real cause for grief. Thus shall I die
without regret. A statesman of the Sung Dynasty has
remarked: ‘To discuss an event before it occurs is foolhardy.
But if one waits until it has occurred, speech is then too late,
and, therefore, superfluous.’ Foolhardiness notwithstanding, it
is well that the Throne should be warned before events occur;
no Minister should ever have to reproach himself with having
spoken too late. Heartily do I wish that my words may prove
untrue, so that posterity may laugh at my folly. I do not desire
that my words may be verified, for posterity to acclaim my
wisdom. May it be my fate to resemble Tu Mu,[38] even
though to imitate him be a transgression of duty. May I be
likened, rather, to Shih Ch’iu, the sight of whose dead body
proved, as he had hoped, an effective rebuke to his erring
Prince. Thus may my foolish but loyal words be justified in the
end.
“I pray the Empresses and Emperor to remember the
example of Their Majesties Shun-Chih and K’ang-Hsi, in
tempering justice with mercy: that they may promote peace
and prosperity, by appointing only worthy men to public
offices; that they may refrain from striving for those objects
which foreigners hold dear, for by such striving they will surely
jeopardise the future of our Middle Kingdom; that they may
never initiate any of the innovations disdained by their
ancestors, which would assuredly leave to posterity a heritage
of woe. These are my last words, my last prayer, the end and
crown of my life.
Postscript.
“Having been a Censor, I venture thus to memorialise the
Throne. But as my present official position does not permit of
my forwarding this direct, I request the high officials of my
Board to present it for me. As my name did not figure
originally in the list of officials to represent my Board at the
ceremonies preparatory to His late Majesty’s burial, I begged
the Grand Secretary Pao Yün to allow me to be included in
the list. Pao Yün could not have foretold my suicide, so that
no blame can attach to him for being my sponsor. Under our
enlightened Dynasty, how could anyone imagine a return to
the ancient and happily obsolete practice of being buried alive
with one’s Sovereign? But my grief is too great and cannot be
restrained; for to-day my Sovereign returns, dragon-borne, to
Heaven, and all the world weeps with me in woe unutterable.
“I have respectfully but fully explained my feelings in this
question of the lawful succession to the Throne, and now,
under the title of your guilty servant, I present this my
Memorial.”
 X
TZŬ HSI BECOMES SOLE REGENT

The days of mourning for T’ung-Chih being done, his remains

disposed of as auspiciously as the Court of Astronomers could
desire, and his ghost placated, thanks to Wu K’o-tu, by solemn
promises on the part of his mother to provide him with a suitable and
legitimate heir in due season, life in the Forbidden City settled down
once more into the old grooves under the joint Regency of the
Empresses of the Eastern and Western Palaces.
But before long the new Emperor, a nervous and delicate boy,
became, all unconsciously, a thorn in the side of the woman who put
him on the Throne. As he passed from infancy to boyhood, it was a
matter of common knowledge and report in the Palace that he
showed a marked preference for the Empress Tzŭ An, who, by her
kind and sympathetic treatment, had won the child’s heart. In the
innocence of his lonely youth he frequented therefore the Eastern
Palace, while Tzŭ Hsi, whose pride could brook no rivals, even in the
heart of a child, was compelled to look on, and to realise that the
forming of the future ruler’s mind was in the hands of another
woman. There were not lacking those who told her that her
colleague, secretly and with ulterior motives, encouraged the boy to
oppose and displease her. Under these conditions, it was inevitable
that the young Emperor should gradually become a cause of
increasing jealousy and friction between the two women.
 Interior of the I Kun Kung.

Tzŭ Hsi lived in these Apartments for some time after the death of T’ung-Chih.

Photo, Ogawa, Tokio.

Tzŭ Hsi undoubtedly resented the boy’s predilection as much as

her colleague’s action in encouraging it. At Court, where everyone
and everything is a potential instrument for intrigue and party faction,
the young Emperor’s attitude could not fail to cause her grave
concern. She was well aware that Tzŭ An could never become, of
herself, a formidable rival, but should she hereafter enjoy the
Emperor’s confidence and support, and instigate him to become the
centre of a faction against her (which he did), there might be danger
in the situation for herself. As the Emperor’s minority approached its
end, it therefore became the more necessary for her to take all
possible precautions. She had no intention of sharing the fate of that
Empress Consort of Ch’ien Lung who was banished to the “Cold
Palace” and whose honours and titles were taken from her on
charges of “wild extravagance, love of the theatre and
insubordination to the Emperor’s mother.”
A further cause of friction occurred between the two Empresses
Regent on the occasion of the Imperial progress to the Eastern
tombs, in 1880, when the boy Emperor was nine years old. On this
occasion, Tzŭ An, evidently prompted by Prince Kung to assert
herself and her rights, insisted on taking precedence in all the
ceremonies of the ancestral sacrifices at the Imperial Mausolea and
at the prostrations which custom decrees shall be made before each
of the “Jewelled Cities,” as the mounds are called which cover the
Imperial grave chambers. When their Majesties arrived at the grave
of Hsien-Feng, there was serious friction. Tzŭ An, as the senior
Consort of the deceased monarch, claimed as her right the central
position, at the same time relegating her colleague to the place on
her right, leaving the place of honour on the left unoccupied. Not
content with this, Tzŭ An went on to remind her Co-Regent that,
where sacrifices to Hsien-Feng were in question, Tzŭ Hsi was
entitled only to claim precedence as a senior concubine, her
elevation to the position of Empress Mother having taken place after
his decease. As a concubine, etiquette required her, during the
sacrifice, to take a position on one side and slightly in the rear, while
the vacant place of honour to Tzŭ An’s left belonged to the shade of
Hsien-Feng’s first consort, who had died before his accession, but
had been posthumously raised to the rank of senior Empress. Tzŭ
Hsi, realising that this indignity was put upon her at the instigation of
Prince Kung and the Princes of the Imperial family, had no intention
of submitting, and peremptorily insisted upon taking the position to
which her actual rank and authority entitled her. The quarrel was
sharp but short. Tzŭ Hsi, as might have been expected, carried the
day, but she felt that such a scene before the ancestral tombs,
witnessed by a large entourage, was semi-sacrilegious and from
every point of view unseemly. She had been made to lose face by
the incident—clearly premeditated—and the fact had immediate
effect upon her subsequent actions and her relations with her
colleague.[39]
At the time of this progress to the tombs, Jung Lu was in
command of the Metropolitan Gendarmerie, entrusted with the duty
of escorting their Majesties. Shortly after their return to Peking,
however, he incurred her sharp displeasure by reason of conduct
which Tzŭ Hsi was not likely to overlook, even in her chief favourite.
Ever since the Jehol days of the Tsai Yüan conspiracy, and
particularly during the crisis that followed the death of T’ung-Chih,
this powerful Manchu had enjoyed her favour and confidence in an
unusual degree, and as Comptroller of her Household, he had the
right of entrée to the Forbidden City at all times. But in 1880,
suffering no doubt from ennui induced by the inactivity of Court life,
he committed the indiscretion of an intrigue with one of the ladies of
the late Emperor’s seraglio. Information of the scandal was laid
before Her Majesty by the Imperial tutor Weng T’ung-ho, between
whom and Jung Lu there was never love lost. It was commonly
rumoured at Court, after the event, that Tzŭ Hsi, leaving nothing to
chance, had herself discovered the culprit in the women’s quarters of
the Palace, a heinous offence. Be this as it may, Jung Lu was
summarily, though quietly, deprived of all his posts, and for the next
seven years he lived in retirement. In this case Tzŭ Hsi vindicated
her pride at the expense of her own comfort and sense of security,
and it was not long before she had reason to regret the absence of
her most loyal and trusty adviser. Amongst her courtiers she found
none to replace him; she missed his wise counsel, courage and
fidelity. But having once committed herself to the step of dismissing
him, she was unwilling to lose face with him and with her Court by
changing her mind. His removal, however, undoubtedly led to
increased friction between herself and Tzŭ An, whom she suspected
of being a party to Jung Lu’s liaison.
Finally, in March 1881, a serious quarrel took place between the
two Empresses, on the subject of the influence which the Chief
Eunuch Li Lien-ying had come to exercise, and the arrogance of his
manner. Tzŭ An complained that this favourite and confidential
servant of her colleague ignored her, setting her authority at nought,
so that she was mocked even by her own subordinates. She
deplored and denounced the existing state of affairs, commenting
unpleasantly on the notorious fact that the eunuch was openly
known by the title of “Lord of nine thousand years,” a title which
implied that he was but one degree lower than the Emperor (Lord of
ten thousand years) and entitled to something approximating to
Imperial honours.[40]
The quarrel on this occasion was exceedingly bitter, nor was any
reconciliation subsequently effected between the Empresses. It is
very generally believed, and was freely stated at the time that,
incensed beyond measure and impatient of any further interference
with her authority, Tzŭ Hsi brought about the death of her colleague,
which was commonly attributed to poison. In the atmosphere of an
Oriental Court such charges are as inevitable as they are incapable
of proof or disproof, and were it not for the unfortunate fact that those
who stood in the way of Tzŭ Hsi’s ambitions, or who incurred her
displeasure, frequently failed to survive it, we should be justified in
refusing to attach importance to the imputations of foul play raised
on this and other occasions. But these occasions are too numerous
to be entirely overlooked or regarded as simple coincidences. In the
present instance, the Empress Tzŭ An fell ill of a sudden and
mysterious sickness, and in the words of the Imperial Decree, she
“ascended the fairy chariot for her distant journey” on the evening of
the 10th day of the 3rd Moon. In accordance with prescribed custom,
she drafted just before her decease a valedictory Decree which, as
will be observed, touches hardly at all on the political questions of
the day. These, even at the moment of her death, she appeared to
leave, as by established right, to her strong-minded colleague. After
referring to her position as Senior Consort of the Emperor Hsien-
Feng and recording the fact that during his minority the young
Emperor had done justice to his education (in which she had always
been much interested), the Edict proceeds as follows:—

“In spite of the arduous duties of the State, which have fully
occupied my time, I was naturally of robust constitution and
had therefore fully expected to attain to a good old age and to
 enjoy the Emperor’s dutiful ministrations. Yesterday, however,
I was suddenly stricken with a slight illness and His Majesty
thereupon commanded his physician to attend me; later His
Majesty came in person to enquire as to my health. And now,
most unexpectedly, I have had a most dangerous relapse. At
7 p.m. this evening I became completely confused in mind and
now all hope of my recovery appears to be vain. I am forty-
five years of age and for close on twenty years have held the
high position of a Regent of the Empire. Many honorific titles
and ceremonies of congratulation have been bestowed upon
me: what cause have I therefore for regret?”

At her request, and with that modesty which custom prescribes,

the period of Imperial mourning was reduced from twenty-seven
months to twenty-seven days. There is a human touch in the
conclusion of this Decree which seems to preclude the conclusion
that Tzŭ Hsi had any hand in its drafting, for it describes Tzŭ An as
having been careful to “set a good example of thrift and sobriety in
the Palace and to have steadily discountenanced all pomp and vain
display in her share of the Court ceremonies.” As most of the
charges levelled for many years against Tzŭ Hsi by Censors and
other high officials referred to her notorious extravagance, this, and
Tzŭ An’s last request for a modest funeral as the fitting conclusion to
a modest life, were a palpable hit.
Tzŭ An was dead. The playmate of her youth, the girl who had
faced with her the solemn mysteries of the Forbidden City, the
woman who later, because of her failure to provide an heir to the
Throne, had effaced herself in favour of the Empress Mother, her
poor-spirited rival of many years—Tzŭ An would trouble her no
more. Henceforth, without usurpation of authority, Tzŭ Hsi was free
to direct the ship of State alone, sole Regent of the Empire.
And with the death of her colleague came the desire to be free
from the restraints of advice given by prescriptive right of long-
standing authority, the ambition to be the only and undisputed
controller of the nation’s destinies, and acknowledged Head of the
State. For many years—in fact, since the decapitation of her
favourite eunuch, An Te-hai, by Prince Kung[41] and her Co-Regent
—she had been on bad terms with that Prince, and jealous of his
influence and well-earned reputation for statesmanship. The manner
in which, years before, she had taken from him his title of Adviser to
the Government has already been described. Unable to dispense
with his services, desirous of profiting by his ripe experience,
especially in foreign affairs, she had borne with her Prime Minister
grudgingly and of necessity. In 1884, however, she felt strong
enough to stand alone, and the war with France (caused by the
dispute as to China’s claims to suzerainty over Tongking) gave her
an opportunity and an excuse for getting rid at one stroke of Prince
Kung and his colleagues of the Grand Council.
The immediate pretext for their dismissal was the destruction of
the Chinese fleet of junks by the French in the Min River, but Her
Majesty’s real reason was that she believed that the Prince was
intriguing against her with the young Emperor, and that he was to
some extent responsible for a recent Memorial, in which several
Censors had roundly denounced her for depraved morals and
boundless extravagance.
The Decree in which she dismissed this able adviser of the Throne
is in her best manner, displaying many of the qualities which explain
this remarkable woman’s long and successful rule. The facts to
which she refers have a direct and interesting connection with much
subsequent history:—

“Our country has not yet returned to its wonted stability, and
its affairs are still in a critical state. There is chaos in the
Government and a feeling of insecurity amongst the people. It
is, therefore, of the utmost importance that there should be
competent statesmen at the head of affairs, and that our
Grand Council should be an efficient pivot and centre of
administration.
“Prince Kung, at the outset of his career, was wont to
render us most zealous assistance; but this attitude became
modified, as time went by, to one of self-confident and callous
contentment with the sweets of office, and of late he has
become unduly inflated with his pride of place, displaying
nepotism and slothful inefficiency. On occasions when we
have urged the Grand Council to display zeal and single-
hearted devotion to the State, he and his colleagues have
ruthlessly stuck to their preconceived ideas, and have failed
to carry out our orders, for which reason they have more than
once been impeached, either on grounds of obstructiveness
or general uselessness. It has even been said of them that
their private lives are disreputable, and that they have dared
to recommend persons for high office from improper and
corrupt motives.
“The House-laws of our Dynasty are most severe, and if
there were any truth in the accusations of treason that have
been made against Prince Kung, we should not hesitate for a
single moment to inflict upon him the extreme penalty of the
law. We do not believe, however, that he can have dared to
act in the manner suggested. We set these aside, therefore,
and will deal only with the other charges to which we have
referred, and for which there would appear to be good
foundation. They are in themselves more than sufficient to
cause the gravest injury to the State, and if we continue to
treat the Prince with leniency, how shall we justify ourselves
hereafter in the eyes of our glorious ancestors? We shall incur
no small blame in the eyes of posterity, and when the day
comes for the Emperor to take over charge of the
Government there can be no doubt that he would be likely to
fail, under such conditions, to shed lustre, by his reign, on the
Dynasty.
“If we were to make public even one or two of the accusing
Memorials that have reached us, it would be impossible for
us, on grounds of privilege, to extenuate the Prince’s faults,
and we should be forced to cashier several of our senior
advisers. In the magnanimity of our heart we shrink, however,
from any such drastic steps, being moved to deep
compassion at the thought that Prince Kung and his
colleague, the Grand Secretary, Pao Yün, should have served
us so long and now have come to deserve our stern censure
and severe punishment. We are prompted to leniency by
remembrance of the fact that Prince Kung suffers from a
complication of diseases, while Pao Yün has reached an
advanced old age. In recognition of their past merits we have,
therefore, decided that their good fame may be left to them,
and remain unsullied for the rest of their days. As a mark of
our Imperial clemency we have decided to permit Prince Kung
to retain his hereditary Princedom, together with all the
emoluments thereof, but he is hereby deprived of all his
offices, and the double salary which he has hitherto enjoyed
is withdrawn. He is permitted to retire into private life and
attend to the care of his health.
“As regards the Grand Secretary, Pao Yün, he also is
allowed to retire from public life, retaining his present rank
and titles. As for Li Hung-tsao,[42] who has been a member of
the Council for many years, his narrow views and lack of
practical experience have caused him to fail completely in his
duties. Finally, Ching Lien, the President of the Board of War,
seems to think that his duties are satisfactorily performed by
adherence to a routine of procrastination, the man being
devoid of the first elements of knowledge. Both these officials
are hereby relieved of their posts, to be employed in lower
positions hereafter. Weng T’ung-ho, the President of the
Board of Works, has only recently been appointed a member
of the Council, at a time of serious complications, and has, so
far, taken no active part in its proceedings. He therefore
escapes censure or penalty. As a mark of our consideration
we hereby remove him from his post on the Grand Council,
but permit him to retain his position on the Board of Works,
and he will continue his services as Tutor to the Emperor.”
“For a long time past we have been quietly observing the
behaviour and general tendencies of Prince Kung and his
colleagues, and we are quite convinced in our mind that it is
useless to look to them for any activity or awakening of their
 petrified energies. If they were retained in office, we firmly
believe that they would end by incurring severe punishment
by causing some really serious disaster to the State. For this
reason we now content ourselves with mild censure from a
sense of pity, as a measure of precaution. It is not because of
any trivial misdemeanour, or because of the impeachment by
Censors that we thus dismiss from office a Prince of the
Blood and these high Ministers of our Government, nor is our
action taken on any sudden impulse and without full
consideration.”

As the result of this Decree, Prince Kung retired from the scene, to
remain in unemployed obscurity until 1894, when, after the first
disasters of the war with Japan, Tzŭ Hsi, older and wiser, turned to
him once more for assistance. He never completely regained the
influence with the Empress which he had enjoyed in the earlier days
of the first Regency, but after his return to office until his death in
1898, his prestige, especially among foreigners, was great. Tzŭ Hsi,
though she loved him not, was forced to admit that he had accepted
and borne his degradation with dignity.
After the issue of the above Decree, Prince Kung was succeeded
in office by Prince Li, the head of the eight Princely families and a
descendant of a younger son of Nurhachu. With him were
associated on the Grand Council, amongst others, the elder brother
of Chang Chih-tung and Sun Yu-wen.[43] The latter was a bitter
enemy of the Imperial Tutor, Weng T’ung-ho. In appointing him to the
Council, Tzŭ Hsi followed her favourite tactics of creating dissension
among her advisers and maintaining the equilibrium of her own
authority as the resultant of their conflicting forces.
Her Majesty’s next step aroused a storm of opposition and
criticism. She decreed that in all matters of urgency, the Grand
Council, before advising the Throne, should confer with the
Emperor’s father, Prince Ch’un, but added that upon the Emperor’s
attaining his majority, she would issue further instructions on this
subject. This was not only an entirely new and irregular departure,
since it made the Emperor’s father de facto head of the executive,
but it implied the possibility of violation of the solemn pledges given
to the nation in 1875, as to the provision of an heir to the Emperor
T’ung-Chih. Fears were once more aroused in an acute form that
Prince Ch’un might hereafter persuade his son to ignore the
ancestral claims of the late Emperor, and thus constitute the house
of Ch’un founders of a new line. The Prince would have great
inducement to adopt this policy, as it would confer upon him and
upon his wife (Tzŭ Hsi’s sister) Imperial rank during their lives and
Imperial honours after their death. The reign of T’ung-Chih would in
that case be practically expunged, going down to posterity
dishonoured as the ignominious end of the senior branch of the Ta
Ching Dynasty, and the Yehonala clan would become of paramount
influence. A wide field would thus be left for future dissensions,
treasons, stratagems and Court intrigues. In fact the position thus
created would be somewhat similar to that which arose from the
rivalry of the Houses of York and Lancaster in English history.
An Imperial Clansman, named Sheng Yü, and other scholars,
memorialised in the most urgent terms praying the Empress to
cancel this appointment and suggesting that if Prince Ch’un’s advice
were really needed, it should be given to herself direct and not to the
Grand Council. The writers advanced numerous arguments, all
calculated to save the face of Prince Ch’un while preventing him
from accepting the position. They doubted whether his health would
stand the strain, and whether the duties of the post were consistent
with his high calling; at the same time they foresaw that a post which
practically conferred the powers of a Dictator must undoubtedly
make him unpopular, a result which Her Majesty herself would be the
first to deplore.
Besides, had not the Emperor Chia-Ch’ing declared (in 1799) that
Princes of the Blood were not eligible for service on the Grand
Council, except in cases of urgent and exceptional emergency?

“The truth is,” they concluded, “that a Prince of the Blood,

by virtue of his position, cannot be liable to the same
punishments as ordinary subjects, and for this reason he
should not hold a Government office. Prince Kung has held
 this high post, it is true, but this was merely temporary, and in
any case, the power conferred upon him was much less than
that which it is now proposed to confer upon Prince Ch’un.
We therefore respectfully invite Your Majesty reverently to
conform to the laws of the Dynasty, and to cancel the Decree
conferring these functions upon Prince Ch’un.”

As final objections, the Memorialists observed that the Prince

could not be expected to attend every morning at the Palace, nor
could he usurp the Imperial prerogative by expecting the Grand
Council to meet at his residence; and it would be irregular for the
Censors to denounce any errors committed by a Prince of the Blood
as head of the Council.
The Censor Chao Erh-hsün (an upright official who has since held
office as Viceroy in Manchuria and in Ssŭ-Ch’uan) memorialised in
the same sense, observing that the Grand Council would be
superfluous if everything had to be referred to Prince Ch’un, whose
position as father of the Emperor made him impossible for this post.
“Why,” said he, “could not Her Majesty command the Prince to
attend before her, whenever she needed his advice, and let him
expound his views to her in person? There could be no objections to
this course.”
To these remonstrances Tzŭ Hsi replied:

“There is no doubt that the sage decisions of former

Emperors deserve to be treated with every consideration and
respect, but it is to be observed that, ever since I assumed
the Regency, I have been by circumstances compelled to
confer regularly on confidential business with a Prince of the
Blood. You must all be aware that this situation has been
forced upon me owing to the exigencies of the times, and was
none of my seeking. The Decree in which, some days ago, I
appointed Prince Ch’un to be Adviser to the Council, had no
reference to ordinary routine business, with which he has no
concern, but only to urgent matters of State. I had not, and
have not, any intention of giving him a definite appointment,
 and he himself was most reluctant to accept at my hands
even this advisory position; it was because of his repeated
entreaties that I promised to issue further instructions in the
matter upon the Emperor’s reaching his majority. The present
arrangement is of a purely temporary nature. You cannot
possibly realise how great and numerous are the problems
with which I have to deal single-handed. As to the Grand
Council, let them beware of making Prince Ch’un’s position an
excuse for shirking their responsibilities. In conclusion, I wish
that my Ministers would for the future pay more respect to the
motives with actuate their Sovereign’s actions, and abstain
from troubling me with their querulous criticisms. The
Memorialists’ requests are hereby refused.”

Rescripts of this kind are curiously suggestive of Queen Elizabeth,

and her manner of dealing with similar petitions from her loyal and
dutiful subjects.
 XI
TZŬ HSI “EN RETRAITE”

In 1887 Kuang-Hsü completed his seventeenth year, and Tzŭ Hsi

saw herself confronted by the necessity of surrendering to him the
outward and visible signs of sovereignty. The change was naturally
viewed with apprehension by those of her courtiers and kinsmen
who for the last ten years had basked in the sunshine of her
unfettered authority and patronage, whose places and privileges
might well be endangered by a new régime. When, therefore, as in
duty bound, she expressed a desire to retire from public life, it was
not surprising that urgent petitions and remonstrances poured in,
begging her to continue yet a little while in control of affairs, nor that
she should finally allow herself to be persuaded. It was not until
February 1889 that she definitely handed over the reins of
government to the Emperor, on the occasion of his marriage to the
daughter of her brother, Duke Kuei Hsiang.
Tzŭ Hsi was now fifty-five years of age. For nearly thirty years she
had been de facto ruler of the Celestial Empire. She had tasted the
sweets of autocracy, had satisfied all her instincts of dominion, and it
seemed as if she were not unwilling to enjoy the fruit of her labours
and to exchange the formal routine of the Forbidden City for the
pleasures and comparative freedom of life at the Summer Palace,
which was now in course of reconstruction. Always avid of
movement and change, weary of the increasing toil of audiences and
Rescripts, apprehensive, too, of the steadily increasing pressure of
the earth-hungry Powers on China’s frontiers, she could not fail to be
attracted by the prospect of a life of gilded leisure and recreation.
Nor could she have remained on the Throne, Kuang-Hsü being alive,
without an overt and flagrant act of usurpation for which, until he had
been tried and found wanting, there was no possible justification.
Certain writers, foreign and Chinese, have imputed to her at this