Empress Orchid

by Anchee Min

  To witness the tears of the respectable Kuei Liang was heart-breaking. The French and English demanded indemnities and apologies for wars against us started on our soil. According to Prince Kung, they had declared that recent events had rendered the previous agreements null and void. Grand Councilor Su Shun, who was dressed in a red court robe, warned that this was the pretext for the barbarians’ next move, which would be to hold a gun to the head of Emperor Hsien Feng.

  “I have failed myself, my country and my ancestors,” Hsien Feng cried. “Because of my inadequacy, the barbarians have preyed on us … China has been violated, and the guilt is mine alone to bear.”

  I knew I had to ask for permission in order to speak, but anger overcame me and I said, “Foreigners live in China by the good grace of the Emperor, yet they have harmed us in more ways than we can find words to express. They are causing our government to lose prestige in the eyes of our people. They leave us no choice but to despise them.”

  I wanted to continue, but choked on my own tears. Only a few weeks earlier I had sat behind Hsien Feng as he thundered about war and ordered “death to the barbarians.” What was the use of more words? As events played out, the Emperor of China would soon be forced to make an apology for the “treachery of his troops who had defended the Taku forts against the British the previous year.” China would be forced to agree to pay to its invaders an enormous amount of taels as compensation.

  The Emperor needed to rest. After a short recess, Kuei Liang spoke again. “The Russians have come to join the thievery, Your Majesty.”

  Hsien Feng took a deep breath and then asked, “What do they want?”

  “To redraw the northern border by the Amur and Ussuri rivers.”

  “Nonsense!” Hsien Feng yelled. He began to cough, and his eunuchs rushed to him and wiped his neck and forehead. He pushed them away. “Kuei Liang, you have allowed this to happen … you! ”

  “Your Majesty, I deserve no more pardons, and I am not asking for any. I am prepared to hang myself. I have already bid farewell to my family. My wife and children reassured me that they would understand. I just want to let you know that I did my best and was unable to get the barbarians to negotiate. They only threatened war. And …” Kuei Liang paused and turned to his son-in-law.

  Prince Kung stepped up and finished Kuei Liang’s sentence for him. “The Russians fired their cannons yesterday. Due to fear that they might threaten the capital, Minister Yi Shan signed the treaty and accepted the Russians’ terms. Here, Your Majesty, is a copy of the treaty.”

  Slowly, Emperor Hsien Feng picked up the document. “North of the Amur River and south of the Wai-hsin-an Mountain area, isn’t it?”

  “Correct, Your Majesty.”

  “That is a vast area.”

  Many in the court knew all too well the extent of this loss. Some began to weep.

  “Su Shun!” Emperor Hsien Feng called, slumping in his seat.

  “I’m here, Your Majesty.” Su Shun stepped forward.

  “Behead Yi Shan and remove Kuei Liang from all his posts.”

  My heart went to Kuei Liang as guards escorted him out of the hall. During the next break I found a moment to speak with Prince Kung. I asked him to do something to stop the decree. He told me not to worry. He made me understand that Su Shun was in charge, and that he wouldn’t carry out Hsien Feng’s order. He answered yes only to appease His Majesty. The court trusted Su Shun to change the Emperor’s mind; everyone knew it would be impossible to replace Kuei Liang.

  In the passing months Emperor Hsien Feng had become ever more dependent on Su Shun and his seven grand councilors. I prayed that Su Shun would be able to hold up the sky for His Majesty. Although I didn’t like Su Shun, I didn’t intend to be his enemy. I would never dream of offending him, yet one day it would become unavoidable.

  It had been snowing for three days. Outside the gate there were drifts two feet deep. Although the coal heaters were burning, it was still too cold for comfort. My fingers were as stiff as sticks. Buried in his fur coat, Hsien Feng sprawled on a chair in the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing. His eyes were closed.

  I sat at the desk, summarizing documents for him. For the past few months I had again become the Emperor’s secretary. He had simply run out of energy and asked me to help by picking out the most urgent letters to respond to. His Majesty spoke the words and I formed them into replies.

  It was challenging, but I was thrilled to help. All of a sudden I was no longer an abandoned concubine. I no longer had to stitch misery onto hoops. I was given a chance to share His Majesty’s dream of reviving China. It made me feel good—my energy was inexhaustible. For the first time in ages I saw true affection in his eyes. Late one night when Hsien Feng woke up in his chair, he offered his hand for me to hold. He wanted me to know that he appreciated my help. He no longer called for Summer, one of his Chinese concubines, or for Nuharoo, even when I begged him to take walks with her.

  I visited Nuharoo to spend time with Tung Chih, who slept with his wet nurses nearby. I updated her on what I had worked on with His Majesty. She was pleased with my humbleness.

  Every day before dawn, I got dressed and went to the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing on a palanquin. Right away, I began sorting official papers into several boxes. Emperor Hsien Feng was usually still asleep in the next room. I would line up the boxes in order of urgency. By the time the sun rose and the Emperor came to me, I was ready to brief him. He would debate with himself and weigh his decisions. Sometimes he would have a discussion with me, and afterward I was expected to draft the necessary edicts.

  I made suggestions that I hoped would complement His Majesty’s thoughts. One day he came in late and a box needed immediate attention. To save time, I drafted a proposal in his style. When I read it to him for approval, he made no changes. The edict was sent with his seal stamped on it.

  My confidence grew after that. From then on, Hsien Feng asked me to draft edicts on my own and brief him later. I was nervous at first; I wanted to consult Prince Kung or Su Shun, but I knew I couldn’t.

  One morning I finished drafting seven documents and had begun an eighth. It was a tough one. It had to do with an item in a treaty with which I was not familiar. I decided to wait. When I heard His Majesty getting up, I took the draft to him.

  Hsien Feng was half reclining on a rattan chair, his eyes closed. A eunuch was spoon-feeding him a bowl of deer blood soup. It must have tasted awful, for His Majesty’s expression reminded me of a child whose finger got pricked by broken glass. The soup dripped from his mouth. I had just begun to read the draft when I heard Chief Eunuch Shim’s voice. “Good morning, Your Highness. Su Shun is here.”

  “Is His Majesty in?” came Su Shun’s voice. “The matter can’t wait.”

  Before I was able to retreat, Su Shun walked directly toward Emperor Hsien Feng. His Majesty opened his eyes halfway and saw Su Shun on his knees. I stood by the wall and hoped that Su Shun wouldn’t notice me.

  “Rise,” Emperor Hsien Feng uttered. The eunuch quickly wiped the mess off his chin and sat him upright. “Is it about the Russians again?”

  “Yes, unfortunately,” Su Shun replied, rising. “Ambassador Ignatyev refuses to negotiate on our terms and has announced the date of the attack.”

  The Emperor leaned to the right while his hand went to rub his side. “Orchid, did you hear Su Shun?” He threw the draft at me. “Tear it up! What’s the use of issuing edicts? What else can I do? My blood has been sucked dry and the wolves won’t leave me alone!”

  Su Shun was startled to see me. His eyes narrowed. He kept turning his head back and forth between Emperor Hsien Feng and me.

  I knew I had offended him by my mere presence. He stared at me and his eyes shouted, Go back to your embroidery!

  But I was obligated to give Hsien Feng an answer. I hoped that Su Shun would assume that the Emperor trusted me for a reason, and that my assistance had been valuable.

  Surely if Su Shun asked, His Majesty would praise me.
Last month there had been a report of a flood in Szechuan province. Hundreds of peasants had lost their homes. Food was scarce. When Hsien Feng heard that many families were eating their dead children to survive, he issued a decree to have the governors of Kiangsu and Anhwei open their stores. But there was no grain left. The storehouses had been emptied long before to fund the battles against the Taipings and the foreigners.

  I suggested that His Majesty squeeze the money out of corrupt bureaucrats. I proposed that he order government officials nationwide to report their incomes. In the meantime His Majesty should send inspectors to audit their books to see if the reports matched what had really been earned.

  “That might provoke resentment,” His Majesty said.

  “Not if we add a clause to the decree stating that no one would be charged with embezzlement if the guilty individuals donated their improper money to the victims of the flood disaster.”

  The decree worked beautifully. Emperor Hsien Feng rewarded me with permission to visit my family. From then on, His Majesty trusted me to issue most of the decrees. I became even more confident. In the Emperor’s voice I encouraged criticism and suggestions from all the governors. I benefited from their comments and proposals.

  While I felt fulfillment and satisfaction, I was also concerned about Hsien Feng’s growing lack of interest in his work. It was hard not to be affected by his increasing pessimism. He was now in a great deal of physical pain and was depressed most of the time. When I brought in Tung Chih, he had no energy to play with him. He would send him away within minutes. He no longer proofread the edicts I drafted. When state reports arrived, he expected me to take care of them. He didn’t even want me to consult with him. When I passed him those that I thought he must be made aware of, he would push my arms away and say, “The bugs inside my head have built their nests so thick that I can’t think.”

  His Majesty’s life was coming to an end. For Tung Chih’s sake I needed him to live. I worked without a break. My meals had been reduced from five a day to two. Sometimes I ate just one. To make sure that I ate well, An-te-hai hired a new chef from my hometown of Wuhu, whose best dish was my childhood favorite: tomato, onion and cabbage soup. An-te-hai used a special bamboo container to keep the soup bowl warm.

  I often woke to find that I had been sleeping at my desk, slumped on my folded arms. I no longer bothered to have my hair styled. I wanted to spend more time with Tung Chih, but I had to leave him entirely to Nuharoo. I continued working on court documents, sometimes until dawn. An-te-hai would wait beside me, holding a blanket in case I asked for it. He would fall asleep sitting on a stool. Now and then I heard him murmuring in his dreams: “No more ‘congratulations,’ Confucius!”

  “What else can I do?”

  To Su Shun’s dismay, I answered His Majesty. “I would not yield to the Russians.” I spoke softly but with purpose. “The Russians are taking advantage of our troubles with the French and British. China should not give the idea that we are an easy rib for anyone to chew upon.”

  “I hope you are listening well,” said Hsien Feng. “Show … our strength.”

  Su Shun nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Go back to the Russians tomorrow and don’t return until the task is accomplished.” With a heavy sigh Emperor Hsien Feng turned away from Su Shun.

  In disbelief Su Shun bade His Majesty goodbye. Before he walked out, he gave me a nasty look. It was clear that he regarded Hsien Feng’s respect for me as a personal humiliation.

  It didn’t take long for Su Shun to spread rumors about me. He warned the court that I had ambitions to take over the throne. He succeeded in provoking the clans’ elders, who came forward to protest. They urged His Majesty to remove me from his residence.

  Prince Kung stood up for me. He was more than clear about his brother’s state of mind. His Majesty wouldn’t even come to the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing unless I was there. In Prince Kung’s view, Su Shun was the one whose ambitions were inappropriate.

  For His Majesty’s health, Doctor Sun Pao-tien recommended complete quiet, so we moved back to Yuan Ming Yuan. The season went deep into winter. Long, withered brown and yellow weeds lay like frozen waves. The wind continued to be harsh. The creeks and brooks that meandered through the gardens were now iced over and looked like dirty ropes. Emperor Hsien Feng said they reminded him of guts that had fallen out of the belly of a slaughtered animal.

  The quietness was broken when Su Shun and Prince Kung came with urgent news. They stood beside His Majesty’s ornate black wooden bed and reported that the British and French demanded an audience.

  Emperor Hsien Feng sat up in his bed. “I can’t accept that they want to revise and amend the treaties. What is there to be revised or amended? They are creating an excuse for another attack!”

  “Still, would you consider granting the audience?” Prince Kung asked. “It is important to maintain communication. My Tsungli Yamen can work on the format until Your Majesty feels comfortable—”

  “Nonsense! We don’t need those appeasers,” Su Shun interrupted, pointing a finger at Prince Kung.

  Hsien Feng raised his hand to silence Su Shun. He was aware that the court had split regarding how to handle the situation, with Su Shun and Prince Kung leading opposing sides.

  “An audience is too much for them to ask,” Hsien Feng said. “I won’t allow the barbarians to come to Peking.”

  The usual procession of eunuchs and maids entered with tea. Everyone was dressed magnificently. Whenever I walked in my garden, all I felt was the power and glory around me. Even the crickets on the garden walkways had a touch of nobility; they were fat and green and more robust than those I saw in the countryside. Yet it all might come to an end.

  “The foreigners are coming with troops,” Prince Kung reminded his brother after a long silence.

  “Death to them!” Su Shun’s voice was charged. “Your Majesty, it’s time to issue a warrant to take the British ambassador hostage. He will be forced to withdraw the troops.”

  “What if he refuses?” Prince Kung asked.

  “Behead him,” Su Shun replied. “Trust me, when the enemy’s leader is caught, the rest will surrender. Then we can send General Seng-ko-lin-chin with the Bannermen to collect the rest of the barbarians’ heads.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Prince Kung countered. “The British ambassador is only a messenger. We will lose the moral high ground in the world’s eye. It will give our adversaries a perfect excuse to launch an invasion.”

  “Moral ground?” Su Shun sneered. “What ground do the barbarians have regarding their behavior in China? They make demands of the Son of Heaven. How dare you side with the barbarians! Are you representing His Majesty the Emperor of China or the Queen of England?”

  “Su Shun!” Prince Kung’s face turned red and his hands were clenched. “It’s my duty to serve His Majesty with truthfulness!”

  Su Shun walked up to Emperor Hsien Feng. “Your Majesty, Prince Kung must be stopped. He has deceived the court. He and his father-in-law have been in charge of all the negotiations. Based on the outcome of the treaties and information provided by my investigators, we have reason to suspect that Prince Kung has profited from his position.” Su Shun paused, his body pivoted toward Prince Kung as if cornering him. “Haven’t you made deals with our enemies? Haven’t the barbarians promised you that when they enter the Forbidden City, you will harvest more shares?”

  The veins on Prince Kung’s neck grew thick, and his eyebrows twisted into a gingerroot. He jumped on Su Shun, knocking him to the ground, and started punching him.

  “Manners!” Emperor Hsien Feng called. “Su Shun had my permission to express himself.”

  His Majesty’s words crushed Prince Kung. He dropped his hands and threw himself down on his knees. “My Imperial brother, nothing will be achieved by taking their ambassador. I will bet my head on it. The situation will only go against us. Instead of backing down, they will send their fleets to our shores. I have studied
long enough to know their ways.”

  “Of course.” Su Shun got back on his feet, his long sleeves fluttering in the air. “Long enough to develop connections and long enough to forget who you are.”

  “One more word, Su Shun,” Prince Kung clenched his jaws, “and I’ll pull your tongue out!”

  Despite Kung’s warnings, an edict was issued to capture the ambassador of Britain. For the next few days the Forbidden City was quiet. When the news came that the ambassador had been taken, Peking celebrated. Su Shun was hailed as a hero. Almost immediately, reports of foreign attacks along the coastline took away the excitement. The documents sent to His Majesty from the frontier smelled of smoke and blood. Soon the papers were piled high against the walls. I had no way of sorting them. The situation went exactly as Prince Kung had predicted.

  August 1, 1860, was the worst day for Emperor Hsien Feng.

  Nothing now could stop the barbarians. Prince Kung was denounced and his Tsungli Yamen dismissed. Calling themselves “the Allies,” the British came with 173 warships and 10,000 soldiers, the French with 33 ships and 6,000 soldiers. Then the Russians joined in. Together, the three landed a force of 18,000 men on the shores of the Gulf of Chihli.

  Going against the immense fortified earthworks that straddled the mouth of the Yellow River and the seaboard, the Allies scrambled ashore, sinking knee-deep in slime, and shot their way to dry ground. They then began to move toward Peking. General Seng-ko-lin-chin, the commander of Imperial forces, sent word to the Emperor that he was prepared to die—in other words, all hopes of protecting the capital were fading.

  Other reports depicted bravery and patriotism, which filled me with sadness. China’s ancient way of fighting wars had become an embarrassment—only barriers made of bamboo stakes defended our forts and their complex of dikes and ditches. There was no chance for our soldiers to display their masterly martial-arts combat skills. They were shot down before they were even in sight of the enemy.

  The Mongolian cavalry was known for its invincibility. Three thousand vanished in one day. The Westerners’ cannons and guns swept them away like dry leaves in a late-autumn wind.