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The Last Emperor of China: The Incredible Journey of Puyi

Nearly 2 millennia of imperial rule in China came to an end 95 years ago, the 12th February 1912, when a young, seven year old boy was forced to give up one of the oldest throne in existence. Unlike his European contemporaries, his story would not come to a bloody conclusion here. Instead his life would be an epic, Orlandoesque journey that saw him go from a divine Emperor, to a puppet, a witness, a prisoner and finally to a a convinced Communist.

The Great Divergence

To best understand the life of Puyi you need a little context. Although one of the oldest civilisations in the world – one that long pre-dates the Roman Empire – by the turn of the 20th Century China had long fallen behind its rivals technologically, militarily and economically in what is known as the Great Divergence.

Once forward thinking, and far advanced in philosophy, technology and economics, the Qing dynasty, of which Piyu would be the final ruler, had sent this expansive nation hurtling backwards. Prior to the Manchu conquest of China, the Ming dynasty enjoyed lucrative trade with the rest of the world. Not only in the form of goods (earning state revenues of around 30 million taels), but also ideas and technology. This all came to an abrupt end when the Qing dynasty completely banned foreign trade 1644 and 1683 and severely restricted it thereafter.

Believing China to be self-sufficient, the Qings essentially cut themselves off from the outside world. With the cessation in the flow of goods and traders came the cessation in the flow of technology and ideas. While the rest of the world developed complex monetary systems, the Qings also reinstated serfdom. It refused to protect its Chinese subjects abroad, which led to massacres, such as those perpetrated by the Spanish in the Philippines. China became isolationist. As the world advanced, China turned away. Within the flash of an eyelid, China had fallen far behind.

By the time Piyu came to the throne China had lost a series of wars with the western powers. By the end of the 1800's it had ceded Hong Kong to Britain, Indochina (Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos) to France, Tsingtao to Germany and ‘concession’ areas in Shanghai to all these major powers, plus the United States and Japan. Under the imperial rule of the Qings, China had become almost a gutted nation.

Revolution

By the turn of the 20th Century, China’s downward trajectory had become too much. Revolution came, and on 12th February 1912 the infant Puyi, through Empress Dowager Longyu, was forced to abdicate his throne. At seven years old, he’d never really known power. All duties of government had been performed by his regents. However, unlike with some of the more bloody depositions seen in Europe, the young Emperor and his family were not massacred. In fact, he was allowed to keep his title, his income and his place in the Forbidden City. For the next five years he was Emperor in all but duty.

In 1917, disagreements between President Li Yuanhong and Premier Duan over whether China should join the Allies in the First World War and declare war on Germany caused substantial political unrest when. After all, Germany was playing a major part in China's industrialisation. However, Germany also held territory that the Chinese wanted back. Eventually, northern warlord Xun, a loyalist, was asked to mediate. But he had his own ideas.

Instead he returned the 12 year old Emperor Puyi to the throne, dissolving parliament and declaring it unconstitutional. It was brief counter-revolution. An opportunist act that did not have popular support; not even the full support of the court. Puyi’s second reign lasted 11 days, ending in siege and bloodshed as republican forces from the south stormed the walls of the Forbidden City.

Because Puyi and his court had not been responsible for the restoration, Puyi was left to live much as he had before. He was utterly cut off from the outside world, secluded within the walls of the Forbidden City, still the Emperor in name with all the money and privilege afforded to the grandest monarchs and imperial heads throughout history. But he still had no power. Perhaps the royal household had not instigated the restoration, but that did not mean the young Puyi did not dream of once again sitting upon the oldest throne in history.

Although the Republicans did not act immediately, the attempted restoration had made them suspicious and by 1924 they’d had enough. Republican warlord Feng Yuxiang took control of Beijing in a coup on 23rd October, revising the ‘Articles of Favourable Treatment’, abolishing Puyi's imperial titles and privileges and reducing the Emperor to a private citizen of the Republic of China. Eviction from the great Forbidden City came the same day.

Collaboration

Dispossessed and without support within China, Puyi first moved to the Japanese Embassy in Beijing before moving to the Japanese Concession of Tianjin in February 1925 – despite the fact that Japan had been indirectly responsible for the fall of the Qing dynasty and, as such, the loss of his throne. Still, the Japanese offered an opportunity. The Republican Government were proving difficult to deal with and their on-again-off-again relationship with the Communists terrified the imperial government of Japan. The Japanese believed the only way to prevent the spread of Bolshevism in Asia was to do it themselves. They saw Puyi as their means to control China.

Japan had already prised Korea from the Qing dynasty during the First Sino-Japanese War. Long a dependent on China, Japan had steadily increased her influence on China's vassal state throughout the late 1800’s, which angered China. When things finally came to a head, Japan was still an untested force. With all its cultural influence, China was still considered very much the ‘big brother’. But by the end of the conflict these roles would have changed. Japan was now undeniably the dominant force in Asia. China was seen as a second class state.

The next phase of Japan’s plan was Manchuria. Both rich in resources and strategically important, this northern Chinese province was a perfect buffer state against the Soviets. Idealists in the Imperial Japanese Government envisaged a new Asian utopia, where the peoples of Japan, China, Korea and Russia would work together, mainly for the betterment of the Japanese Empire. The reality would be less idealistic.

The Manchurian (or Mukden) Incident took place on 18th September 1931.  Lt. Suemori Kawamoto took a few men to a rail hub owned by Japan’s South Manchuria Railway. Under the cover of darkness they wired up a set of explosives and slunk away into the shadows. With a train due to pass within minutes, the Lt. Pushed the detonator. Thankfully the explosion was too weak to destroy the track or the train with its carriages full of passengers. Regardless it was enough for what the Japanese needed.

The Japanese knew full well what Lt. Suemori Kawamoto had done, they had planned it. But it was justification. The Japanese blamed China and vowed to 'restore order', launching their forces at the Chinese garrison and, just like in the first Sino-Japanese War, brushing them aside with ease. China ceded Manchuria to Japan (an area the size of Western Europe) after 5 months 1 week and 2 days of fighting. The victorious Japanese renamed this area Manchukuo.

Puyi the Puppet

The Japanese needed a new government for their newly claimed prize and Puyi was the perfect pick. The Qing dynasty came from Manchuria, so installing Puyi would simply be installing him as the head of his ancestral home.

Puyi, however, held less power than perhaps he’d hoped. Far from a grand, all-powerful Emperor, Puyi was nothing more than Japan’s puppet. Manchukuo’s resources were diverted to the Japanese mainland, labour was used for the benefit of the Imperial Japanese war machine and collaborationist forces were raised to fight against their erstwhile countrymen when war broke out between Japan and China in earnest following the Marco Polo Bridge incident in July 1937.

Up until now Japan had managed to carve concessions from China piecemeal in the decades that followed the First Sino-Japanese War. Japan was used to fighting short campaigns and concluding a quick peace, gobbling up the country bit by bit. This time was different. The people of China had grown tired of being bullied by Japan and pushed the country’s leader, Generalissimo Chiang Kai Shek to resist. China was by no means ready for all out war, but Chiang’s position was precarious. Not only was he fighting a civil war against the Communists in the north, but a recent coup attempt had proven the fragility of his position. It was only by popular demand by the people that he hadn’t been ousted, and to lose that support could have been potentially deadly.

And so Puyi found himself fighting side-by-side with the very people who brought about his downfall against those he so desperately wanted to rule. But it’s unfair to characterise Puyi’s as a man with a simply cynical lust for power at any cost. Granted, he was a man brought up to believe, even after the forced abdication, that he possessed a divine right to rule. But equally he’d experienced nothing but the trappings of a life of an imperial monarch, set apart from anyone except his royal court. To lose that at that time would mean to lose himself. The Japanese offered him the only life he knew.

When Japan joined the Second World War in December 1941, Puyi and Manchukuo threw its lot in with the Axis. Not that it had much choice. Puyi’s position, much like the Emperor in Japan, was very much ceremonial. It was Japanese and pro-Japanese Manchurian ministers that really made the decisions. As the war limped on to its devastating conclusion, Puyi questioned the wisdom of his actions, forced as they were.

On the 9th August 1945 the Soviet Union joined the war against Japan, invading Manchukuo from the north. It didn’t take long. By the 20th August the entire state was in their hands, as was its puppet ruler, Puyi. Considering what Soviets did with their own royal family you’d have thought that finally the Emperor’s days were numbered, but instead he and his inner circle were transferred to be held in relative comfort in captivity, in Russia. There was to be no backbreaking labour in the Gulags for this thrice deposed royal.

Puyi enjoyed his time in captivity, even spending his time as learning about the Bolshevik system of government. He could quite grasp the concept of a government of the people for the people. He hoped to one day become the first Bolshevik imperial Emperor in history.

Atonement

Following the atomic bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Japanese capitulated on the 15th August 1945. The Imperial Japanese Army had been guilty of plenty of atrocities across the whole of Asia, and it was time for those responsible to pay the penance. The surrender was quickly followed by the war crimes tribunals. Puyi offered himself as a witness. He’d been privy to much in his position as puppet leader of Japan’s closest ally in the East; he knew what orders had been passed down from Japanese high command and he knew who had issued those orders. As a key witness, he happily gave up those responsible.

Following the trials he was taken back into captivity in Russia and continued much as he did before; reading and wandering the ample grounds in which he and his court spent their detention. Meanwhile, the Chinese Civil War had once again begun to rage. With the surrender of Japan, the Communists and the Nationalists no longer had a common enemy to fight and they were soon tearing chunks out of each other once more. Times had been harsh during the war with Japan and Chiang had lost much popular support. Chiang had also lost most of his best and most loyal troops to the Japanese.  As the war progressed, troops flocked to the Communists.

The Chinese Civil War ended on 1st October with Mao Zedong's proclamation of the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. The Communists had not forgot about Puyi. They soon requested the return of the former Emperor and in a show of Communist solidarity, the Soviets were happy to oblige.

Conversion

By now Puyi must seem like a cat with nine lives. Surely his time must be up. Not only did he represent everything Mao’s Communists hated, he was also a collaborator and a traitor. But somehow, once again, Puyi did not find himself up against a wall. Instead he was transferred to the Fushun War Criminals Management Centre where he went through a 10 year process of ‘re-education’.

According to Puyi himself, he was not mistreated during his time here, but he was introduced to something he had to this point never before experienced: work.

While undergoing re-education, China joins the Korean War to help its ally, North Korea. Puyi offers his priceless royal seals for the war effort. He is moved when the camp commandant explains that instead of objects, priceless as they are, ‘for the people, the person himself is more important’. Up until this point Puyi had simply been thinking about his own survival. This creates a profound change in Puyi.

The former Emperor remains in the camp for another two years. By the time he leaves he is a convinced Communist. Now a regular citizen, he indulges his love of nature, working in the Beijing Botanical Gardens, earning a regular wage. Living in an ordinary Beijing residence, a far cry from the grandeur of the Forbidden City, he is unaccustomed to carrying money and frequently loses it. He takes to tying a large wallet securely to his trousers.

At the encouragement of Mao Zedong and Premier Zhou Enlai, in the 1960’s, Puyi wrote his autobiography The First Half of My Life. In it, he made the following confession:

I now feel very ashamed of my testimony, as I withheld some of what I knew to protect myself from being punished by my country. I said nothing about my secret collaboration with the Japanese imperialists over a long period, an association to which my open capitulation after September 18, 1931 was but the conclusion. Instead, I spoke only of the way the Japanese had put pressure on me and forced me to do their will.

I maintained that I had not betrayed my country but had been kidnapped; denied all my collaboration with the Japanese; and even claimed that the letter I had written to Jirō Minami was a fake. I covered up my crimes in order to protect myself.

Far from being convinced of his divine right to rule, Puyi waas now convinced by his responsibility to others.

Puyi would survive one last close call. The Cultural Revolution came in 1966. Its aim was to eradicate all traces of traditional Imperial China. Lead by the zealous youth militia, the Red Guard, they were sure to eradicate this pure embodiment of the old way. But most peculiarly he was protected by the state. Mao was clearly fond of this relic of the old times.

Although his various luxuries were removed, he was spared death, or even humiliation, which was common for ‘enemies of the people’ at the time. After all, he’d come too far to become a convinced Communist. There was really nothing to eradicate.

Full Circle

By now his health was beginning to fade. He died on 17th October 1967 of complications arising from kidney cancer and heart disease. He was 61 years old. His body was cremated and his ashes interred Babaoshan Revolutionary Cemetery, resting place of party and state dignitaries; quite a high honour in the People’s Republic of China.

In 1995, his remains were transferred to Hualong Imperial Cemetery, located near the Western Qing Tombs, where four of the nine Qing Emperors that preceded him still rest. In his incredible journey, Puyi had come full circle: from divine Emperor to collaborator and wartime traitor to convinced Communist, before finally taking his place amongst his Imperial ancestors.

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Some lesser known factors that lead to World War One

OK, the overall narrative that governs British understanding of the First World War and the events has been a little see-sawy over the last few decades. We’ve gone from the blinkered and patriotic, to a little more liberal and scornful (ever so succinctly summed up by the line ‘lions lead by donkeys’) and back again.

When it comes down to the cause of the cost of countless lives, snuffed out, not just in the mud and quagmire, but the deserts and jungles too, what were we dealing with? German aggression and expansionism, French power panic or British Imperial paranoia? Even putting it down to those three positions is far too simplistic.

                                      Especially now, with Mr. Ventriloquist Dummy Gove, the whirlwind seems to be coming full circle, what with his own personally crafted curriculum pushing only the most jingoistic take on history. Likely, school kids will be taught about the evil jackbooted German goose stepping across Europe, bloodthirsty and hungry for space. Only, it’s important not to mix up the First and Second World Wars, which is exactly what Gove’s take on history does.

Here are some lesser known facts that help debunk the over simplistic narratives our school will soon be forced to teach us about the First World War. Our enemies weren’t pantomime villains and we weren’t pure and angelic; there was a hell of a lot of grey, and that wasn’t just the uniforms...

A family affair

In the early 1900’s, Europe wasn’t the forward thinking bastion of social democracies is it today, it was still very much the dominion of kings and queens. Of the major combatants, only France was a republican democracy. Britain was a constitutional monarchy, as it is today – though suffrage was hardly universal back then – and although he had very little official power, King George V was the head of the British state.

Britain was, in fact, the central seat of almost all European monarchies. Almost every country had a link to Queen Victoria, or one of her descendants on the throne. King George V was Victoria’s grandson, while Russia, Britain and Frances ally, was also still an absolutist monarchy (where a monarch still held ultimate power) under Tsar Nicolas II, who was George’s cousin and so one of Victoria’s nephews. Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany was too a cousin of both George and Nicolas, and who too ruled his country with absolutist authority.

It’s said that Wilhelm was not a favourite of Victoria and her brood, and Victoria’s famed ability to shun members of her family who didn’t meet her expectations no doubt played a part in the pre-war political destabilisation that finally lead to the Great War (as well as, in part at least, reducing the cost in life of the Great War to result of a family feud – a favourite reason for war in centuries past). Of course, there was ill feeling in the family that went much further than Victoria’s simple tutting, specifically that of Alexandra of Denmark, George’s mother.

Denmark’s disdain

Germany was a new country, having only unified officially in 1871. Prior to this, it was a number of small principalities and grand duchies, loosely associated and mainly independent. The process of unification was undertaken by the Kingdom of Prussia, long the most powerful (or rather, most aggressive) of the German kingdoms.

Inevitably, there were countless conflicts in the lead up to final unification. One such tussle was over the area of Schleswig-Holstein, the northern-most area of Germany. It had come to fall under Danish jurisdiction, being something of a vassal or satellite state, but seeing that the area, especially Holstein, contain a great number of Germans, Prussia believed that the land and its populous should be part of their new united Germany. Seeing that the Schleswig area contained mainly Danes, Denmark did not.

After the Dane’s defeat in second Schleswig War, and little political sympathy from the governments of what would become the Entente Powers, the land was ceded in its entirety to Prussia and ultimately to Germany – a humiliating defeat.

This was something Alexandra never forgot nor forgave, and she rarely missed an opportunity to voice the mistrust that this installed in her toward both Germany and the Kaiser at all the family gatherings. It’s hard to believe that this had no effect on the wrangling of political deals and brokerages in the years leading up to the war.

German Labour Government

It’s surprising, but despite the Kaiser ruling as an absolutist monarch, Germans were able to vote. Granted, the power the government held was minimal, but it did, along with the constitution, point toward the inevitability of reform, were peace to remain. Of course, this was quashed pretty swiftly with the growing international tensions and, finally and completely, with the outbreak of war.

                        In fact, suffrage was extended to far more people in Germany than in Britain, even if the vote did mean less.

Kaiser and Empire

Although it’s constantly said that Kaiser Wilhelm was jealous of Britain’s Empire, there are quite a few that say he spoke contemptuously of overseas empires and, as he referred to it, ‘land-grabbing’. It’s plain to see that Germany did little to defend its overseas colonies when war did finally break out, suggesting that it held little importance to them, not even asking their Turkish allies to help.

                      Britain’s economy relied on its empire, and its safety remained a sensitive and contentious issue, beyond the First World War and up until its final downfall after World War II. It’s quite possible this was more a British hang up than German.

We not only wanted to maintain our empire, but we were also looking to expand. You only need to see how we screwed Prince Faisal, and by extension, T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia), in the Middle East after the war.

German Naval Power Panic

This is kind of a continuation of the point before. In order to control the empire, Britain had to control the seas, and with German industrialisation, Britain felt its long domination over the ocean was coming under threat. While naval expansion started as an exercise in of simple prestige for Germany, it was a much bigger issue to Britain. Forming the Entente with France and Russia was undoubtedly a tactic to contain German naval power.

                  The German-Russian Alliance

The alliance that nearly happened! Russia, as part of the Entente, had thrown its lot in with France, a republic and a democracy. At home, the Tsar was facing increasing pressure for liberalising reform amongst his populace. In no way was he ready to concede and let go of any of his power. In the Kaiser, he found something of a kindred spirit – politically speaking, anyway.

                                Meeting in secret in the middle of the sea on their private steam yachts, the two signed Bjorko Treaty, an alliance that tied Russia with Germany both politically and militarily.

Had this been ratified, it would no doubt have severely disrupted the balance of power in Europe. It would have nullified the alliance with France, would have destabilised any future alliance with Britain, and would have created a terrifying power block, stretching from Alsace-Lorraine all the way to the tip of Alaska. History would no doubt have changed substantially.

Funnily enough, it was their respective governments that put the kibosh on this, the people the two emperors had momentarily united over to deny any further power. Russia stuck to its alliance with France, while Germany would remain by the side of Austria. The treaty would be torn to shreds as if it had never happened, emperors overruled by their council – a sure sign of where Europe was soon to head.

Economics and War Capacity

Although Germany had industrialised faster than any other European nation, and was running production far more efficiently than the rest too, they had neither the raw materials needed, nor the capacity, to fight a prolonged war. The Kaiser knew this, the generals knew this and the government knew this. If war were to break out, it would need a lightning victory.

                The Schlieffen Plan was supposed to offer just that, but it was also an incredible gamble. No one believed its success was a certainty and no one really wanted to put this into plan unless absolutely necessary.

       You have to remember, Germany was encircled. It would have to fight France and Britain in the West, while fighting Russia in the East at the same time. In a time of marching infantry, cavalry and horse drawn artillery, how likely would a lightning victory been on two fronts?

Franz Ferdinand: A Liberalising Force

There’s no doubt that the Hapsburg dynasty that had ruled the Austro-Hungarian Empire for centuries were tyrannical loons. They ruled over the lands of countless different cultures and ethnicities, controlled them without any hint of sensitivity and crushed any rumbling of self-determination without mercy. However, according to many historians, this was about to change.

                          Franz Ferdinand was next in line to take the throne after his particularly reactionary uncle, Franz Joseph. Had he taken the throne, it’s believed he would have enacted extensive reform of the empire. One major policy he talked of was federalisation, giving limited autonomy to different areas, requiring them to turn Vienna for only certain policy, such as foreign affairs.

Unfortunately, this would never come to pass and his assassination would be the spark to ignite the entire war.

Kingdom of Serbia Sponsored the Assassination

On 28th June 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated during a visit to Sarajevo by Gavrilo Princip, a guerrilla and member of the Black Hand. Popular myth sees this organisation as something of a freedom fighting group, when in actuality it was run officially by the Kingdom of Serbia and the Serbian military. In essence, it was for the time, a fairly blatant act of war by one country on another.

                                              The declaration of war and attack was more a case of retaliation and retribution than aggression, and it’s something that neither Britain nor France would have been above at the time.

Franco-Prussian War

Known in France as the War of 1870, this came off the back of a bunch tensions that arose from the process of German Unification. France were worried about the potential disruption in the balance of power on the continent (a concern that would rear its ugly head once again in the lead up to 1914) and wanted territory on the left bank of the Rhine to help secure its position. Germany refused and France duly declared war. It didn’t go well.

Germany mobilised much quicker than France could and, after a swift string of victories, managed to march on Paris and beyond. The Treaty of Frankfurt in 1871 signalled France’s defeat and imposed harsh reparations - though not as harsh as those of the Treaty of Versailles - and they occupied most of the captured land until the reparations could be paid. It also brought about the official unification of Germany.

Pride is a major foible of nations; this damaged pride carried itself all the way to the Great War and can’t be ignored as at least part of the reason for the outbreak of hostilities in 1914.