by Anchee Min
"The failure of a thousand-mile dike starts with an ant colony." So began a message from Li Hung-chang in the fall of 1898 that warned of a foreign conspiracy against me. The goal was to make Guang-hsu a puppet king.
I couldn't say I was surprised. I was aware that my son had been carried away by his vision of a new China, reinvigorated by his own hand. Yet I chose ignorance because I couldn't stand fighting him anymore. I wanted to please him so he would think of nothing but my love.
While I was admiring the lotus flowers swaying in the gentle breeze at Kun Ming Lake, reformer Kang Yu-wei secretly contacted General Yuan Shih-kai, Yung Lu's right-hand man in the military. I had no idea that Guang-hsu's permission for Kang's "unlimited access to the Forbidden City" extended to my bedroom door.
A week after the scurrilous attack on me in the foreign press, I received a formal letter from Guang-hsu. Seeing the familiar seals and opening the envelope, I couldn't believe what I read: a request that the capital be moved to Shanghai.
I was not able to stay calm. I summoned my son and told him that he'd better give me one good reason for such an outrageous idea.
"The feng shui in Peking works against me" was all he could say.
I tried to block a loud "no" from rolling out of my chest.
Guang-hsu stood by the door as if getting ready to escape.
I paced the room, then swung around to look at him. Sunlight hit his robe, making his accessories glitter. He was pale.
"Look me in the eyes, son."
He couldn't. He stared at the floor.
"In history," I said, "only the Emperor of a fallen dynasty, such as the Soong, relocated the capital. And it didn't save the dynasty."
"I have an audience waiting," Guang-hsu said flatly. He no longer wanted to listen. "I must go."
"What are you going to do about the Tientsin military inspection? It has already been scheduled." I chased him to the gate.
"I am not going."
"Why? You can learn what Yung Lu and General Yuan Shih-kai are doing."
Guang-hsu stopped. He pivoted his body at an odd angle, and his hands went to the wall. "You are going, aren't you?" He looked at me nervously, blinking his eyes. "Who else? Prince Ts'eng? Prince Ch'un Junior? Who else?"
"Guang-hsu, what's wrong with you? It was your idea."
"How many people are going?"
"What's the matter?"
"I want to know!"
"Just you and I."
"Why Tientsin? Why a military inspection? Is there something you want to do there?" His face was inches from mine. "It's a setup, isn't it?"
As if suddenly gripped by fear, Guang-hsu's frame began to tremble. He held himself against the wall as if trying to conquer it. The moment took me back to his childhood, when he once stopped breathing while listening to a ghost story.
"Here is the reason I am going," I said. "First, I'd like to find out if the foreign loans we took have indeed been spent on our defenses. Second, I would like to honor our troops. I want the world, especially Japan, to know that China is on its way toward having a modern military."
Guang-hsu remained tense, but he finally let himself breathe.
It took me ten days to get him to explain what had been on his mind. His advisors had told him that I had planned to use the military event to depose him. "They are concerned about my safety."
I laughed. "If I were to dethrone you, it would be much easier to have it done inside the Forbidden City."
Guang-hsu wiped the sweat from his face with both hands. "I didn't want to take a chance."
"As you know, there have been proposals regarding your replacement."
"What do you think of the proposals, Mother?"
"What do I think? Are you still sitting on the Dragon Throne?" Guang-hsu looked down but spoke clearly: "The way you listen to the Ironhats made me worry that you were changing your mind about me."
"Of course I listen. I have to in order to play fair. I must listen or pretend to listen to everybody. That's how I protect you."
"Will Prince Ts'eng's idea become yours?"
"It depends. I will look foolish if it has to happen. I want the world to think that I knew what I was doing when I picked you to be the Emperor of China."
"And moving the capital to Shanghai?"
"Who would be responsible for your safety in Shanghai? After all, it is closer to Japan. Queen Min's assassination and Li Hung-chang's being shot certainly were no accident."
"It will not happen to me, Mother."
"What would I do if it did? I only know what Japan would demand in exchange for your life. Ito would get to collect the architectural splendor of the Forbidden City."
"Kang Yu-wei has assured me of my safety."
"Moving the capital to Shanghai is a bad idea."
"I have given Kang Yu-wei my word to do whatever it takes to achieve reform."
"Let me meet with Kang Yu-wei myself. It's time."
34
Either afraid that Kang Yu-wei would not get a fair hearing from me or unsure about the reformer himself, my son ordered him to move to Shanghai and run a local newspaper. This Imperial edict Kang disobeyed. The reformer would later tell the world that the Emperor was forced to send him away and that he, "despite the danger, remained in Peking in order to rescue the throne."
In any event, I didn't pursue a meeting with Kang Yu-wei because something more pressing demanded my attention. An attack on foreign missionaries by inland peasants quickly became an international incident. I guessed that Prince Ts'eng's Ironhats were secretly encouraging the peasants. Since I denounced neither the prince nor the troublemaking peasants, the foreign papers soon labeled me a "suspected murderer." In the meantime, the so-called conflict between my son and me, which was created and trumped up by Kang Yu-wei, led the masses to believe that there was a "Throne Party" and a "Dowager Party." I was beginning to be described as a "mastermind of evil."
I was naive to think that the tension whipped up by the incident could be defused without the use of force. I spoke to my ministers about the power of superstition among Chinese farmers, and that we must not joke about their belief that the rusty water that dripped from oxidized telegraph wires was "the blood of outraged spirits." I emphasized that only by our respect and understanding could we begin to educate the peasants.
I summoned Li Hung-chang to Peking again. The railroad he him self had championed and built delivered him almost in no time. On my behalf Li spoke before an audience of the court about how to influence the provincial feng shui experts. "Only money will flip their tongues" was his conclusion. "That is the only way we can continue to build railroads and raise telegraph poles throughout the country."
I also encouraged Li to send word to foreign officials and missionaries. "I want them to know that the killings might have been avoided if the foreigners had learned how to communicate with our people."
On the last day of the audience, the minister of historical records gave a presentation on the history of Christian missionaries in China. "The root of the problem is that these missionaries built their churches on the outskirts of villages, often on land already consecrated as a cemetery," the minister explained. "The foreigners did not mean to disturb the spirits or the locals, but ended up doing just that.
"Farmers had never seen churches in their lives," the minister went on. "They were awed by how tall they were. When the missionaries explained that the height enabled their prayers to reach God, the locals panicked. In their eyes, the long, sword-like shadow crossing the cemetery cast a spell, and the cursed spirits of their ancestors would come to haunt them."
For half a century Chinese peasants had been demanding that the missionaries relocate their churches. The peasants believed that the enraged Chinese gods would surely wreak revenge and punishment. Whenever a severe drought or flood came, the peasants feared that unless the churches were removed and missionaries expelled, they would starve to death.
Prince Ts'eng had been in the north stirring
up the peasants' fear and superstition. Every memorandum he sent back to Peking repeated the same message: "The conduct of the Christian barbarians is irritating our gods and geniuses, hence the many scourges we are now suffering ... The iron road and iron carriages are disturbing the terrestrial dragon and are destroying the earth's beneficial influences."
I knew I couldn't afford to turn Prince Ts'eng into an enemy. He was my husband's only remaining brother. I was also aware that he had a growing number of rebels at his command and at any moment could attempt to overthrow Guang-hsu. My strategy was to keep peace and order so that Li Hung-chang and the court's moderates could buy some time in which to modernize the country.
"When farmers lose their land, they lose their soul," I said to my son, trying to make him see how difficult it was for Li Hung-chang to keep the railways and telegraph wires running. "If it hadn't been for Li's Northern Army, we wouldn't have been able to keep up with the local rebels' destruction."
Only a few years after the building of the railroad, towns had sprouted around the stations. When these towns grew prosperous, the peasants were transformed from "robbers" to "guards": they would do anything to protect the tracks that brought them a better life. But the towns that hadn't benefited saw themselves as victims of modernization. The townspeople viewed Li Hung-chang as the foreigners' spokesman and his business efforts "part of the spell the foreigners had cast upon China."
As a result, violent gangs and secret societies formed and grew. Serious crime spread. The rebels not only destroyed the tracks and sabotaged the rolling stock but also raided churches and took missionaries as hostages. The situation became so dire that even Li Hung-chang could no longer contain it. Signs posted on city gates threatened to hang the "rice Christians"—the locals who converted to obtain needed food.
I was in the middle of a dream. I was watching my mother getting dressed in the morning. Her bedroom faced Lake Wuhu and had a large window. Sunlight splashed on the woodcarvings and over the floral-patterned window panels. The small bamboo and golden trumpet trees in her room were green even in winter.
Mother stretched like a cat, her long, bare arms extended over her head. She ran her fingers through her silky black hair. Pulling on a peach-colored cotton shirt over her head, she smoothed it down. She took her time buttoning the shirt, and then she turned around and looked at me.
"My daughter had a good night's sleep, I can tell," she said. "You are the prettiest girl in Wuhu, Orchid."
I laid my head on her pillow and buried my face in her sheets to smell her scent.
I had the same dream the following morning. It was when my mother's fingers softly touched my cheeks that I woke up.
There was a loud noise in the hallway. Something heavy fell to the floor. It was followed by a eunuch's ear-piercing cry.
I sat up, still in a fog. Then the image of the dead Queen Min flashed before my mind. I pulled open my curtains.
Yung Lu, in full uniform and with a sword in his hand, rushed toward me.
I thought I was still dreaming.
Before he could reach me, Li Lien-ying jumped him from behind. The eunuch's weight pulled Yung Lu down along with the bed curtains.
In one motion Yung Lu pinned Li Lien-ying to the ground like a bug.
"Assassins, my lady!" Li Lien-ying screamed.
I froze, unsure of what was happening.
Yung Lu ordered his men to search the entire palace. "Every moving object, human and animal! Every tree and bush!"
My hands were shaking and I could not find my clothes. All my attendants were down on their knees on the floor. I reached for a sheet and wrapped myself in it.
Several of Yung Lu's men entered and told him that all was clear.
"Give me a moment to dress, will you?" I asked when I could finally speak.
Yung Lu pointed at a chair and said, "Please, I need you to conduct a private audience, right here, right away."
Dragging my sheet, I went to sit down. I felt like a big moth inside a broken cocoon.
On his knees Li Lien-ying collected my clothes. Holding his stomach with one hand, with the other he spread a coat over my bare shoulders.
"I'll let Yuan Shih-kai tell you what happened," Yung Lu said, sheathing his sword.
"Yuan Shih-kai?" I thought the young general was in Tientsin, commanding the New Army and preparing for a royal inspection.
"Your Majesty, Yuan Shih-kai was sent by your son to collect your head."
35
His Majesty summoned me on September 14," General Yuan Shih-kai began. He stood erect in full dress uniform, his head shaved, his neck muscles taut. His voice was clear but "Emperor Guang-hsu asked about my record in Korea and my use of Western military tactics. I said that during my twelve years stationed in Korea, I had learned much but not enough. His Majesty wanted to know my troop strength in comparison to Yung Lu's. I answered that I had seven thousand and Yung Lu more than a hundred thousand."
I glanced at Yung Lu, whose expression was grave. I turned back to Yuan Shih-kai and asked, "What was the Emperor's response?"
"His Majesty asked if my men were better armed and trained." Yuan Shih-kai paused.
"Keep going," Yung Lu ordered.
"Yes, sir. On September 16, His Majesty summoned me again," Yuan continued. "I was honored with a promotion: vice minister of the Board of War and National Security. I was surprised, for I had done nothing to deserve it. I knew that His Majesty had been impatient about implementing his reform plans and that he had met strong opposition at the court. I had been approached by Prince Ts'eng and his Ironhat sons. They wanted to join forces with me and asked me to train their Moslem troops. I figured that His Majesty meant to prepare me to fight his opposition."
"Yuan Shih-kai was summoned one more time," Yung Lu said, trying to speed the general along.
"That's right," Yuan Shih-kai went on. "It was three days after our first meeting, the morning of September 17."
I remembered that the seventeenth was the day when Guang-hsu and I had our biggest fight. I told my son that he would have to kill me before I would agree to do either of two things: one, surrender to Japan; and two, surrender my power at Kang Yu-wei's request. It seemed that our fighting had pushed Guang-hsu to the other side.
"His Majesty asked if I understood my power," Yuan Shih-kai said. "I said that I was a bit confused. His Majesty said, 'Your new title means that you and Yung Lu are to operate independently.' I begged him to explain further, and he said, 'From now on, you take orders directly from me.' At that point I was truly lost, because it had been my duty to take orders from no one but Yung Lu."
Yung Lu cut in: "Late the same night, Kang Yu-wei's right-hand man, Tan Shih-tung, visited Yuan Shih-kai. He claimed that he represented the 'Throne Party.'"
"That's right," Yuan Shih-kai said. "I knew Tan was the son of the governor of Hupeh. There was a reason he woke me at two o'clock in the morning. He told me that the Emperor was in great danger and that I must go and rescue him. I was ordered by the Emperor to return to Tientsin immediately. I was to call up my troops and return to Peking to suppress the enemy. Tan specifically said that the Emperor wanted me to eliminate two people..." Yuan tried to steady his quavering voice.
"Was I one of the two?" I asked.
Yuan Shih-kai looked at me. His face was solemn. "Yes."
"And the other?" I asked.
Yuan Shih-kai looked down, then turned to Yung Lu. "I see." I nodded.
Yung Lu stood expressionless, like a bronze statue.
"I..." Yuan Shih-kai made an effort to finish his sentence. "...was asked to collect both of your heads." He fell to his knees and kowtowed, knocking his forehead on the ground.
"Rise, Yuan Shih-kai," I said and felt my mouth stiffen.
"Tell Her Majesty how you asked Tan for proof of the authenticity of the edict." Again Yung Lu tried to hurry him along.
"Yes, of course." Yuan Shih-kai rose. "I demanded that Tan show me the Emperor's signed edict. Tan said he coul
dn't. He said that the evidence had to be hidden. He said the situation was reaching a critical moment and Emperor Guang-hsu's life was in danger."
"Did you believe him?" I asked.
"Believe or disbelieve, I couldn't risk it either way. But I did let Tan know that His Majesty and I had met that very morning, and His Majesty mentioned nothing of a coup. Tan became upset and said that 'things had changed' and that 'His Majesty's life hadn't been threatened until the afternoon.' I asked for witnesses, and he gave me a list of names to contact. Among them were Secretary of the Supreme Court Yang, Chief Judge Lin, Chief General Liu and Kuang-jen, Kang Yu-wei's brother."
"When did you learn that the Emperor wanted you to murder me?" I asked. I was losing all sense of the connections, the logic between events. A feeling of shock began to overtake me. I kept hearing the cries of the four-year-old Guang-hsu, and my mind flashed back to the scene of the night when Yung Lu had brought him to the Forbidden City.
"Tan said that he wasn't able to produce the actual edict," Yuan Shih-kai replied. "Anyway, Tan told me that His Majesty had ordered 'to put to death anyone who dared use his or her power and influence to block reform from moving forward.' When I told Tan that I would not bite the hand that fed me, he said that all I had to do was provide an opportunity. He wanted me to take him inside the Summer Palace. These were Tan's words: 'I will slash the Dowager Empress's throat myself.' He opened his shirt to show me a foot-long knife he was carrying."
"What did you think, Yuan Shih-kai?" I asked.
"I saw myself getting in trouble either way, assuming Tan was being truthful, which I seriously doubted. If I betrayed the Emperor, my punishment would be death, and if I betrayed Yung Lu and Your Majesty, it would be the same. So I weighed my decision while Tan talked. I wanted to make sure that he truly represented the throne. Tan kept saying, 'Cut off the head of the anti-reform monster and the body will wither and die.'"
