The Last Empress Part 30

"The Guang-hsu! Era! Your Majesty!"

I turned to Prince Ts'eng. "Have I made my point clear to you? Guang-hsu is still the sitting Emperor."

I told the confused Boxer to remove himself.

Prince Ts'eng looked offended. "Your Majesty, you don't have to support the Boxers, but I need money to bring you victory."

"Shut up" almost rolled off of my tongue. I had to inhale a mouthful of air to calm down. "When I was asked to fund the Taku forts, I was told that it would keep away the foreigners for good. And when I was asked to fund a new navy, I was told the same. Tell me, Ts'eng Junior, how your bamboo spears will defeat the foreigners' guns and cannons?"

"Your Majesty, it will be fifty thousand Boxers against a few hundred foreign bureaucrats. I will select a moonless night and flood the legations with my men. We will be so near that their cannons will be useless."

"And how will you deal with the foreign rescue forces that will come by sea?"

"We'll take hostages! Legations provide the perfect base for negotiations. The hostages will be our bargaining chip. I'll just have to make sure my men don't behead their captives." Ts'eng laughed as if he had already won.

Prince Ts'eng insisted that he be given an opportunity to demonstrate his magic and that the Emperor be present. So the following day in my s.p.a.cious courtyard, before Guang-hsu and me, the Boxers performed. Their martial arts skills were magnificent. They chopped hard stone with their bare hands. In an intense fight of one against ten, Master Red Sword went hand to hand against swordsmen, besting them all. He was then attacked with spears and bullets and scorched by fire, yet he walked away unwounded. His opponents, on the other hand, were all on the ground, stunned and bloodied. Disbelieving my eyes, I tried to figure out his tricks. From beginning to end, Master Red Sword seemed in a drunken trance, which Prince Ts'eng explained was called "spiritual engagement with the G.o.d of war."

I was impressed, though not convinced. I praised the Boxers for their patriotic pa.s.sion. A strange feeling came over me when I turned to Guang-hsu and saw his none-of-my-business expression. I thought about Prince Ts'eng: Terrible as he is, at least he is willing to fight. Terrible as he is, at least he is willing to fight.

I had failed both my sons, and both my sons had failed China. Every time the Western papers accused Ts'eng of being "pure evil" while honoring Guang-hsu as the "wise Emperor," my old scar would tear open. I envisioned how Guang-hsu would be "rescued" by the foreign powers and turned into a puppet king. I began to hear my voice turn soft when speaking to characters like Prince Ts'eng.

The next morning, after Prince Ts'eng left, my eunuch appeared dressed in a Boxer's ragged red uniform. When Li Lien-ying presented me with a uniform of my own-a gift from Prince Ts'eng-I slapped his face.

Around noon Guang-hsu and I heard a strange noise like the sound of distant waves. I couldn't locate its source: it was not squirrels clambering in the trees, not wind blowing through the leaves, not the creek running beneath the rocks. I became alarmed and called for Li Lien-ying, but there was no answer. I looked for him around the grounds. Finally my eunuch returned, out of breath. He pointed behind him with his finger and mouthed the word "Boxers."

Before I could figure out what was going on, Prince Ts'eng was in front of me.

"How dare you surround my palace with your b.l.o.o.d.y bunch of killers!" I said.

He performed a sloppy kowtow. "Everyone wants to personally hear your edict." Ts'eng acted as if the Emperor were not in the room. "Who says I am going to issue an edict?"

"It must be done without delay, Your Majesty." Prince Ts'eng's hands went to tighten his belt. "The Boxers won't leave until they hear your edict."

I noticed that Li Lien-ying was now pointing toward the ceiling. When I looked up, I didn't see anything unusual. I looked back down and saw a ladder being carried past my window. A few moments later came the sound of footsteps on my roof.

"The Boxers are getting ready to fire on the legations, Your Majesty," announced Prince Ts'eng.

"Go and stop them," I ordered.

"But ... Your Majesty!"

"Emperor Guang-hsu would like to order Prince Ts'eng Junior to remove the Boxers immediately." I turned to Guang-hsu, who was staring off into s.p.a.ce.

Guang-hsu turned and said, "Prince Ts'eng Junior is ordered to remove the Boxers immediately."

Ts'eng's eyebrows twisted into a ginger root and his breath was thick. He went to grab Guang-hsu's shoulders and hissed, "The attack will take place at dawn, and that is is your edict!" your edict!"

41.

The mighty Manchu had fallen so low that no one dared to defend the throne, and the throne was afraid to ask.

Prince Ts'eng Junior was not shy about speaking his mind. He believed that his young son should become the next Emperor. I could see him appointing the boy himself. What couldn't a man do when he had tens of thousands of Boxers and Moslem troops at his disposal? Ts'eng entirely dropped his pretense of being loyal to me, for he now controlled the palaces' security guards and the Board of Punishment.

Whispering had been going on behind my curtains. Eunuchs made secret trips outside the Forbidden City. They had been gathering information on how to escape. The ladies in waiting and the servants were preparing for the worst: they kept red Boxer clothes under their beds.

Prince Ts'eng had demanded that I order Yung Lu to remove his troops so that he could "move forward without worrying about being shot in the back."

I warned Ts'eng that an attack on the foreign legations would mean the end of the dynasty, to which he replied, "We will die if we fight and we will die if we don't. The foreign powers won't stop until the melon of China is sliced and eaten!"

I had ordered a telegram sent to Li Hung-chang, but during its transmission, the lines were cut. From then on, Peking was isolated from the outside world.

"I am sorry, Mother," Guang-hsu said when I told him that we had lost control of Prince Ts'eng's Boxers and General Tung's Moslem troops.

Guang-hsu and I sat side by side in the empty audience hall. It was a bright morning in early summer. We stared at the teacups in front of us. I lost track of how many times the eunuchs had come to refill our cups with hot water. I had no idea what to expect of the situation. I only knew that it was getting worse. I felt like a convict in the lonely moments before her execution.

By ten o'clock Prince Ts'eng's message came. The Boxers had moved forward with their knives, bamboo spears, antique swords and muskets. The "outer ring," General Tung's twelve thousand "Moslem Braves," had entered the capital. They encountered an allied relief force and had been trying to take the "middle ring" position.

According to Yung Lu, the "inner ring" comprised Prince Ts'eng's "Manchu Tigers," a former Bannerman troop with tiger skins thrown over their shoulders and tigers' heads mounted on their s.h.i.+elds.

"Prince Ts'eng's strategy is another Ironhat fantasy," Yung Lu said. His army had been keeping an eye on General Tung's Moslem troops. Yung Lu's best Chinese commander, General Nieh, was sent to scatter the Boxers.

On June 11, Prince Ts'eng announced his first victory: the capture and killing of a j.a.panese emba.s.sy chancellor, Akira Sugiyama.

I received the news in the afternoon. Sugiyama had been on China's most-wanted list. He was responsible for Kang Yu-wei's and Liang Chi-chao's escape to j.a.pan. Sugiyama had left his legation in Peking to greet the Allies' relief force at the railway station. Before he arrived he was set upon by General Tung's Moslem soldiers, who dragged him from his cart and hacked him to pieces.

The murder escalated the crisis. Although in the throne's name I issued an official apology to j.a.pan and Sugiyama's family, the foreign newspapers believed that I had ordered the murder.

The London Times Times correspondent George Morrison confirmed that the murderer "was the favorite bodyguard of the Dowager Empress." A few days later, the correspondent George Morrison confirmed that the murderer "was the favorite bodyguard of the Dowager Empress." A few days later, the Times Times published a follow-up article by Morrison that contained this fanciful fabrication: "While the crisis was impending, the Dowager Empress was giving a series of theatrical entertainments in the Summer Palace." published a follow-up article by Morrison that contained this fanciful fabrication: "While the crisis was impending, the Dowager Empress was giving a series of theatrical entertainments in the Summer Palace."

With the help of Li Lien-ying I climbed to the top of the Hill of Prosperity. While looking down over a sea of rooftops, I heard gunshots from the direction of the foreign legations. The legations occupied an area between the wall of the Forbidden City and the wall of inner Peking, a neighborhood of small houses and streets, ca.n.a.ls and gardens. I was told that the foreigners in the legations had been building barricades. The exposed outer perimeter and all gates, crossroads and bridges were sandbagged.

Meanwhile, Yung Lu withdrew his divisions from the coast and attempted to insert them between the Boxers and the legations. He let the Boxers know that he wasn't against them, but he issued an order that anyone who violated the legations would be summarily executed.

As Yung Lu withdrew his forces, he worried about the weakened coastal defenses, especially the Taku forts. "I wish I knew how many foreign troops are headed this way," he said to me later. "I fear what they may do in the name of rescuing the diplomats."

My eunuchs worried about my safety. Since the Boxers had entered Peking, Li Lien-ying had climbed the Hill of Prosperity every day. It was there that he witnessed both the eastern and the southern cathedrals go up in flames. My eunuchs also informed me that the Americans would fire a volley from their roof every fifteen minutes on the off chance of hitting anyone who might be coming down the road. Nearly a hundred Boxers had already been killed. According to the Western press, legation residents had been shooting at any Chinese who wore "even a sc.r.a.p of red."

The Allies' ultimatum was delivered by the British fleet's Admiral Seymour through our governor of Chihli. It read that the Allies were to "occupy provisionally, by consent or by force, the Taku forts by 2 a.m. on the 17 June."

What the governor hid from me, out of fear of his removal, was that his defensive line had already collapsed. Only a few days before, he had falsely reported that the Boxers in his province had "beaten the foreign wars.h.i.+ps back toward the sea." By the time I read the ultimatum, two British wars.h.i.+ps were gliding silently toward the forts under cover of darkness. The Taku forts would be captured in a matter of days.

With Guang-hsu at my side I summoned an emergency audience. I drafted a decree in response to the ultimatum: "The foreigners have called upon us to deliver up the Taku forts into their keeping, otherwise they will be taken by force. These threats are an example of the Western powers' aggressive disposition in all matters relating to intercourse with China. It is better to do our utmost and enter into the struggle than to seek self-preservation involving eternal disgrace. With tears we announce in our ancestral shrines the outbreak of war."

Memories of the i860 Opium War filled me with grief while I read the draft for the court's approval. Painful images flooded back: of past exile, of the death of my husband, of the unfair treaties he was forced to sign, of the destruction of my home Yuan Ming Yuan.

Seeing that I was unable to go on, Guang-hsu took over. "Ever since the foundation of the dynasty, foreigners coming to China have been kindly treated." My son's voice was weak but clear. "But for the past thirty years they have taken advantage of our forbearance to encroach on our territory, trample on the Chinese people and absorb the wealth of the empire. Every concession made only serves to increase their insolence. They oppress our peaceful subjects and insult the G.o.ds and sages, inciting fierce indignation among our people. Hence the burning of chapels and the slaughter of converts by the patriotic troops."

The Emperor stopped. He turned to me and gave back the draft. His eyes filled with sorrow.

I continued. "The throne has made every effort to avoid war. We have issued edicts enjoining protection of legations and pity toward converts. We declared Boxers and converts to be equally the children of the state. It is the Western powers who forced us into this war."

The minister of foreign affairs, I-kuang, was sent to give the legations' residents twenty-four-hour notice to leave Peking, under the protection of Yung Lu's troops. The foreign affairs office in Tientsin and Sir Robert Hart's Chinese customs service were ordered to receive the residents and make arrangements to escort them to safety.

But the legations refused to abandon their rightful places in China. The Times Times's George Morrison told legation residents, "If you leave Peking tomorrow, the death of every man, woman and child in this huge unprotected convoy will be on your heads. Your names will go down in history and be known forever as the wickedest, weakest and most pusillanimous cowards who have ever lived!"

On June 20, a German minister, Baron von Ketteler, was murdered.

Klemens August von Ketteler was a man of strong views and had a flaming temper, according to those who knew him. Only a few days before his death, he beat a ten-year-old Chinese boy with his lead-weighted walking stick until he was unconscious. The beating took place outside the German legation in full view of witnesses. Ketteler had suspected that the boy was a Boxer. After the beating, the boy was dragged into the legation. By the time the boy's family was informed and went to retrieve him, the boy was dead. The incident infuriated thousands of Chinese, who soon gathered outside the legation looking for revenge.

I never understood why Ketteler chose to set off in his palanquin at that particular moment, knowing the danger. He and his interpreter were heading toward the Board of Foreign Affairs. Ketteler had told his house staff that he had waited long enough for China's response to the ultimatum and intended to check on the progress himself.

A crowd of Boxers spotted Ketteler while he jolted toward the Foreign Affairs building. Within moments Ketteler was shot dead at pointblank range. His interpreter was wounded in both legs but was able to drag himself back to the German legation.

The murder of the German minister marked the beginning of what future historians would call the Siege of the Legations. Amid the mounting violence, the various legations united, and daily their guards fired their rifles, indiscriminately killing innumerable Chinese. Four times the legations' security guards attacked the East Gate of the Forbidden City, but were repulsed by General Tung's troops. Armed legation residents occupied the perimeter walls, which made it harder for Yung Lu's forces to maintain a defensive stance and carry out his mission-to prevent the Boxers from succeeding with the siege.

It was midnight when I woke to the burning of the Imperial front gate. The fire had been set by the Boxers as a result of a confrontation with Yung Lu's troops, which had been blocking the three "ring" a.s.saults on the legations.

Next, the vast triple-tiered gateway to central Peking blazed in the darkness, engulfing in its flames the richest quarter of Peking. The Boxers had meant to burn only the shops that sold foreign goods, but in that dust-dry season, everything had been consumed.

I ordered the palace kitchen to make mounds of dumplings, for I had a procession of ministers, officials and generals tramping in and out at all hours. Dining etiquette was abandoned. Most of the men hadn't sat down for a meal in days. There was no place for plates-my table was covered with maps, messages, drafts and telegrams.

Now the foreign press, too, went on the attack. The world had be gun calling the siege "the Peking Ma.s.sacre." The papers howled, "The Dowager Empress wanted the barbarians dead. All of them." So-called anonymous sources had me "directing the murderers" myself.

"We have been out of touch with the world's reactions since the telegraph wires came down. The repairs are taking too long," I-kuang complained.

Understanding that the accusations would provide ample excuse to declare war on China, I became extremely nervous. I kept looking at Yung Lu, who sat across from I-kuang.

"How is Emperor Guang-hsu?" I-kuang asked. "He's been absent from the audiences."

"Guang-hsu hasn't been feeling well," I replied.

"Are his wives with him?"

I found the question odd, but decided to answer anyway. "Empress Lan and the concubines visit His Majesty daily, although my son prefers to be alone."

I-kuang gave me a quizzical look.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

"No, but the foreigners have been inquiring after the throne's health. Apparently my answers are no longer satisfactory to them. They suspect that His Majesty has been tortured and left to die." I-kuang paused, then added, "The rumor has appeared in papers around the world."

"Go and see with your own eyes!" I became enraged. "Pay His Majesty a visit at Ying-t'ai!"

"The foreign journalists have requested face-to-face interviews..."

"We will not allow foreign journalists inside the Forbidden City," Yung Lu put in. "They will pick the bones out of an egg no matter what we do."

"It's getting personal," I-kuang said, handing me a copy of the London Daily Mail. Daily Mail.

"The legations stood together as the sun rose fully," one "eyewitness" told a reporter. "The little remaining band, all Europeans, met death stubbornly, and finally, overcome by overwhelming odds, every one of the Europeans remaining was put to the sword in the most atrocious manner."

Later, the London Times Times would publish a special report on a memorial service held at St. Paul's Cathedral for the British legation's "victims." Pages of death notices would be printed. Sir Claude MacDonald -the husband of Lady MacDonald-Sir Robert Hart and the would publish a special report on a memorial service held at St. Paul's Cathedral for the British legation's "victims." Pages of death notices would be printed. Sir Claude MacDonald -the husband of Lady MacDonald-Sir Robert Hart and the Times's Times's own devoted correspondent George Morrison all lived to read their own obituaries. own devoted correspondent George Morrison all lived to read their own obituaries.