The health of the Emperor, never very good, now began to fail, and by 1908 he was seriously ill; in this same year, too, there were signs that the Empress Dowager was breaking up.  Her last political act of any importance, except the nomination of the heir to the throne, was to issue a decree confirming the previous promise of constitutional government, which was to come into full force within nine years.  Not many weeks later the Emperor died (November 14), the Empress Dowager having already, while he lay dying, appointed one of his nephews, a child barely three years old, to succeed him, in the vain hope that she would thus enjoy a further spell of power until the child should be of age.  But on the following day the Empress Dowager also died; a singular coincidence which has been attributed to the determination of the eunuchs and others that the Emperor should not outlive his aunt, for some time past seen to be “drawing near the wood,” lest his reforming spirit should again jeopardize their nefarious interests.

The Regency devolved upon the Emperor’s father, but was not of very long duration.  There was a show of introducing constitutional reform under the guise of provincial and national assemblies intended to control the government of the empire; but after all, the final power to accept or reject their measures was vested in the Emperor, which really left things very much as they had been.  The new charter was not found to be of much value, and there is little doubt that the Manchus regarded it in the light of what is known in China as a “dummy document,” a measure to be extolled in theory, but not intended to appear in practice.  Suddenly, in September 1911, the great revolution broke out, and the end came more rapidly than was expected.

It must not be imagined that this revolution was an inspiration of the moment; on the contrary, it had been secretly brewing for quite a long time beforehand.  During that period a few persons familiar with China may have felt that something was coming, but nobody knew exactly what.  Those who accept without reservation the common statement that there is no concealment possible in a country where everybody is supposed to have his price, and that due notice of anything important is sure to leak out, must have been rather astonished when, without any warning, they found China in the throes of a well-planned revolution, which was over, with its object gained, almost as soon as the real gravity of the situation was realized.  It is true that under the Manchus access to official papers of the most private description was always to be obtained at a moderate outlay; it was thus, for instance, that we were able to appreciate the inmost feelings of that grim old Manchu, Wo-jen, who, in 1861, presented a secret memorial to the throne, and stated therein that his loathing of all foreigners was so great that he longed to eat their flesh and sleep on their skins.