by Anchee Min
"Have some water, Yuan." Yung Lu offered his cup.
The general drank the water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Tan then showed me his map. It was meticulously detailed. It marked the entrances of the Summer Palace, in particular where Your Majesty's bedroom was. Several alternative plans had also been set in motion, according to Tan. Every exit of your palace would be blocked, including the underground storage tunnels. Tan's in-palace partners included one of your close attendants. I was amazed at the thoroughness. It must have been drawn up by an experienced military hand. I couldn't help but think of Queen Min's assassination. The plot bears the same signature."
I felt cold and shaken inside.
Sweat dripped from Yuan Shih-kai's shaved head, making it shine like a melon in the rain.
Yung Lu paced the floor as he listened.
"Tan demanded an instant answer from me." Yuan Shih-kai took a deep breath. "When he saw that I wasn't going to give him one, he threatened me: 'My knife will do whatever it takes to secure reform.' At this point I knew my next move. I excused myself with a lie, promising that I'd be ready to act on October 5, the day the Imperial military inspection would take place in Tientsin. 'All my troops will be assembled,' I told Tan. It made sense to him, for he knew that the inspection would be attended by both Emperor Guang-hsu and Your Majesty. Tan was satisfied when he left."
Yuan Shih-kai looked tired.
"You may sit down," I said.
Yung Lu pulled over a chair.
I have no memory of the next two days. Yuan Shih-kai's voice kept repeating itself inside my head: "I couldn't imagine that the throne would order his mother's execution, but Tan was certain about it." I denied the possibility. With body and soul I tried to protect myself against a terrible assault. Every fiber of my being went to defend my son against Yuan Shih-kai's accusation.
According to Yung Lu, I had called Yuan Shih-kai a liar and had ordered his beheading on the spot. Yung Lu described how Yuan was terrified and begged for his life. Yung Lu believed that my mind "went under," that I was in a state of shock, so he did not carry out my order.
A few hours after Yuan Shih-kai's report, Yung Lu assembled the Grand Council, the key Manchu princes and nobles, and the high officials of the boards, including the ministers the Emperor had previously fired and others who had begged me to reinstate them.
I was asked to resume command of the empire.
I sat through the audience. The court took my silence as an assent to their request.
Under cover of night, together with Yuan Shih-kai, Yung Lu moved his forces up from Tientsin and replaced the palace guards. The Forbidden City and the Summer Palace were tightly secured. Before dawn, Tan's partners inside the palace were secretly arrested. Trusted eunuchs were then sent to Ying-t'ai to spy on Guang-hsu and his attendants.
When I woke that morning it felt as if I were surfacing from a deep well. I dressed, fed myself and went to sit on the Dragon Throne in the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing.
The court's eyes were on me, some curious, some sympathetic, some unreadable. The testimony of individual ministers confirmed what I had been told by Yuan Shih-kai. There was no doubt that a coup had been set in motion.
"Emperor Guang-hsu needs to be dealt with," Yung Lu proposed.
I gave my approval.
"Go to Ying-t'ai and break the news to Emperor Guang-hsu," I instructed Yung Lu. "If my son knew of the plot, tell him I don't want to see his face again."
On his knees, Guang-hsu begged permission to end his life. He was in his pajamas. He hadn't even finished brushing his teeth. His lips were white with toothpaste.
At the sight of him I had to turn my head away and take a breath. Finally I got up and returned to my bedroom and shut the door. Days went by and I fell ill. My stomach was burning. My tongue developed ulcers and it was painful to swallow.
"Your Majesty's internal being has caught fire." Doctor Sun Pao-tien insisted that I stay in bed. "Drink only lotus-seed soup to cool off."
I was running a fever and had no wish to recover.
Empress Lan arrived, her eyes and cheeks red and swollen. She reported that Guang-hsu had attempted suicide.
Although I could barely sit up, I delivered myself to my son. I wanted him to tell me why.
"I might have been impatient, angry. And yes, I wanted to fire Yung Lu and remove your influence," Guang-hsu said, "but I have never considered taking your life." He fumbled inside his robe and produced a sheaf of papers. "This is my edict to have Kang Yu-wei and his associates arrested and beheaded."
"How do you explain their actions?" I asked.
"I don't know how my reform project turned into assassination plans. Kang proposes one thing and carries out another. I am guilty and deserve to die because I trusted him."
Guang-hsu was more desperate than angry. I wished that he would defend himself and declare his innocence. Although I would never find out the truth, I needed to believe that he was set up. Deep in my heart I knew my child had been taken advantage of.
The bright light in Guang-hsu's eyes disappeared. The Emperor spent days on his knees beseeching me to grant him death. "So the country can move on," he said and wept. "So you can move on. Kang Yu-wei didn't invite himself to the Forbidden City, I did."
He was broken, his eyes sunken and his back hunched. "I am sick of myself and sick of living. Have mercy and pity, Mother."
Before I got a chance to let out my own rage, I was forced to confront Guang-hsu's distress. He refused food and water. Blood was found in his spittoon.
"His Majesty wants to punish himself so badly," Doctor Sun Pao-tien said. "He is willing himself to die. I have seen it in patients before. Once the decision is made, there is no stopping them."
The order to arrest Kang Yu-wei and his associates, signed by Emperor Guang-hsu, stirred the nation. The Ironhats and the court's conservatives took their seats in the Hall of Punishment, where the trial was to begin. They were ready to flex their muscles and teach a brutal lesson.
"The moderates will be hurt once the trial opens," Yung Lu said. "Their names, once exposed, will be linked to the reformers. The Iron-hats are out for blood."
Both Yung Lu and I feared armed confrontation. We received intelligence about plans for a riot, instigated by the Ironhats. It would be led by General Tung's Moslem troops. Tung took his orders from Prince Ts'eng—no friend of the throne.
"Where are General Tung's troops now?" I asked.
"They are camped on the southern outskirts of Peking. If a confrontation occurs, the troops will gallop through the streets of Peking. I am concerned about the British and American legations."
"I can imagine General Tung inviting himself into the Forbidden City. Prince Ts'eng can't wait for the chance to intimidate me. He will force me to dethrone Guang-hsu."
"That is the picture I see too," Yung Lu said.
"A painful tourniquet must be applied to avoid a fatal hemorrhage," I said to Yung Lu. "Present me a list of the must-be-executed and I'll see that the Emperor signs it. I hope it will help stop the popular displeasure that fuels the riot."
***
Future historians would unanimously damn me as a "villain of immense power, dedicated to evil" when referring to Emperor Guang-hsu's attempted reform, which would be called the Hundred Days, counting from the date of his first edict to the last.
On September 28, 1898, only one day into the trial, the proceedings were halted when news came of Kang Yu-wei's escape—he had been rescued by British and Japanese military agents operating behind the scenes. Fearing that there would be more "international rescues," Guang-hsu issued an edict ordering the beheading of six of the prisoners, including Kang Yu-wei's brother Kuang-jen. They became known as the Six Martyrs of the Hundred Days.
All I could say in defense of my son was that the sacrifice was made to avoid a much greater tragedy. The beheadings served as a clear statement of where Emperor Guang-hsu stood, and proved that he was no longer a threat to me. As a
result, Prince Ts'eng's notoriously independent General Tung withdrew his Moslem forces eighty miles east of Peking, which meant that the possibility of disturbances, or even killings, at the British and American legations was removed.
The execution of the six spared the moderates, which prevented polarizing confrontations that could have easily escalated into civil war. And the deaths made the advocates of revenge cautious. It allowed the moderates to make a comeback, so that they could achieve what the Ironhats were afraid of—opening up the existing political system.
I was sitting in my courtyard staring at the pistachio trees when the beheadings of the six young men took place. The leaves were bright yellow and had started falling. I was told the six went bravely. None of them spoke of regrets. Two of them had turned themselves in. Tan Shih-tung, the son of Hupeh's governor, had been given a chance to escape, but refused.
Yung Lu's men would have eventually captured Kang Yu-wei if he hadn't been aided in his escape by John Otway Percy Bland, the Shanghai correspondent of the London Times. The British consul general wired instructions to the consulates up and down the China coast to be on the lookout for Kang while Yung Lu's manhunt was on.
On September 27, in company with the warship Esk, British agents escorted a steamer with Kang Yu-wei on board into Hong Kong harbor. Meanwhile, the British consulate in Canton made arrangements for Kang's mother, his wife, his concubines, his daughters and his brother's family to flee. In Hong Kong, Kang was picked up by Miyazaki Torazo, the powerful Japanese sponsor of the Genyosha, and sailed directly to Tokyo.
The executions made Tan, the governor's son, immortal. The people's sympathy was with the underdogs. The Dowager Empress hates her adopted son, therefore she beheaded his friends—so went public opinion. A poem Tan recited before his death became so famous that it was taught in elementary schools for many years:
I am willing to shed my blood
If thereby my country may be saved.
But for everyone who perishes today
A thousand will rise up to carry on my task.
36
Chinese Emperor killed. May Have Been Tortured—Some Think He Was Poisoned by Conspirators." This came from the New York Times. It was Kang Yu-wei's version of reality. I had "murdered Emperor Guang-hsu by poison and strangulation." My son "was subjected to frightful torture, a red-hot iron being thrust through his bowels."
Kang Yu-wei "informed me," J.O.P. Bland wrote in the London Times, "that he left Peking in compliance with a secret message from the Emperor warning him of his danger. He further stated that the recent events were entirely due to the action of the Manchu party, headed by the Dowager Empress and Viceroy Yung Lu ... Kang Yu-wei urges that England has an opportunity to intervene and restore the Emperor to the throne ... Unless protection is afforded to the victims of the coup, it will be impossible henceforward for any native official to support British interests."
I had told Li Hung-chang to stop sending me the newspapers, but he pretended to be deaf. I couldn't blame him for trying to educate the Emperor. Li made sure two copies arrived at the same time, one for me and the other for His Majesty. I tried to stay calm, but whatever I read made me miserable. It was painful to remember that Guang-hsu had called Kang Yu-wei a genius, his "best friend" and his "like-mind."
Kang went on a worldwide tour. The newspapers quoted a speech he gave at a conference held in England: "Since the Emperor began to display an interest in affairs of state, the Dowager Empress has been scheming his deposition. She used to play cards with him, and gave him intoxicating drinks in order to prevent him from attending to state affairs. For the greater part of the last two years, the Emperor has been relegated to the role of figurehead against his own wishes."
Both my son and I were poisoned by our own remorse. It didn't matter how I tried to justify the situation; what remained was the undeniable fact that Guang-hsu had allowed a plot for my murder to be hatched.
Kang Yu-wei continued his traveling campaign: "You all know that the Dowager Empress is not educated, that she is very conservative ... that she has been very reluctant to give the Emperor any real power in managing the affairs of the empire. In the year 1887 it was decided to set aside thirty million taels for the creation of China's navy ... The Dowager Empress appropriated the balance of the money for the repair of [the Summer Palace]." Such slander went on and on.
My son sat idle in his chair for hours on end. I no longer wished that he would come to me or beg me to talk with him. I lost the courage to face him. A distance settled between us. It was frightening. The more Guang-hsu read the newspapers, the deeper he withdrew. When asked to resume his audiences, he refused. He could no longer look me in the eye, and I could no longer tell him that I loved him despite everything that had happened.
Yesterday I found him sobbing after reading Kang Yu-wei's newest calumny: "There is a sham eunuch in the palace who has practically more power than any of the ministers. Li Lien-ying is the sham eunuch's name ... All the viceroys have secured their official positions through bribing this man, who is immensely wealthy."
If I ever were to forgive my son, what happened next made it impossible. I was given no chance to defend myself, while Kang Yu-wei was free to harm me by calling himself the spokesman of the Chinese Emperor and me a "murderous thief" and "the scourge of the people."
The world's reputable publishers printed Kang's malicious accusations detailing my life. They were then translated into Chinese and circulated among my people as the discovered truth. In teahouses and at drinking parties stories of how I had poisoned Nuharoo and murdered Tung Chih and Alute spread like a disease.
The underground publication of Kang Yu-wei's version of the Hundred Days reform became a sensation. In it Kang wrote: "In combination with one or two traitorous statesmen, the Dowager Empress has secluded our Emperor and is secretly plotting to usurp his throne, falsely alleging that she is counseling in government ... All the scholars of my country are enraged that this meddling palace concubine should seclude [the Emperor]...She has appropriated the proceeds of the government's Good Faith Bonds to build more palaces to give rein to her libidinous desires. She has no feelings for the degradation of the state and the misery of the people."
My son shut himself inside his Ying-t'ai office. Outside the door lay piles of newspapers he had finished reading. Among them were reports of Kang Yu-wei's life in Japanese exile and his glad-handing Cantonese rebel leader Sun Yat-sen, whom the Genyosha had hired to be a front man for my assassination. In the name of the Emperor of China, Kang asked the Japanese Emperor to "take action to remove the Dowager Empress Tzu Hsi."
Over the next eight years, even as my son issued repeated edicts condemning his former mentor, Kang Yu-wei would continue to plot my murder.
Now I begged Guang-hsu to open the door. I said I had lost Tung Chih and I could not go on living if I had to lose him.
Guang-hsu told me he was ashamed and would never forgive himself for what he had done. He said that he could see in my eyes that I no longer had any love for him.
Yet I could not tell him that my love for him hadn't been affected. "I am not myself because I am hurting," I confessed. I dared not speak further—I felt the anger beneath my skin. To give voice to that anger would only cause more harm. I was on the lookout to keep the damage to myself and those around me to a minimum.
Guang-hsu asked what I wanted from "a worthless skin-bag" like him.
I said that I was willing to work to mend our relationship. I let him know that his refusal to pick himself up hurt me more than anything. Yet I could feel myself giving up too. I knew that I had failed with this boy I had adopted and raised since the age of four. I had also failed to keep my promise to my sister Rong. "After Tung Chih's death, I invested my hope in you," I said to Guang-hsu. Not only had I lost hope, but also the courage to try again.
Some part of me would never believe that Guang-hsu meant to murder me. But he had made a grievous error, and it was too big even for me to fix.
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Guang-hsu begged to be dethroned and said that all he wanted was to retreat from the public eye and never be seen again.
It was the saddest moment of my life. I refused to accept such defeat. Turning cold and hard, I said to him, "No, I will not grant you the right to quit."
"Why?" he cried.
"Because it will only prove to the world that what Kang has said about me is true."
"Aren't my seals on his arrest warrant proof enough?"
Suddenly I wondered what my son would regret more, the loss of my affection or Kang Yu-wei's incompetence in having me killed.
Yung Lu abandoned the manhunt for Liang Chi-chao—Kang Yu-wei's right-hand man and disciple—because "the subject had made a successful escape to Japan."
Liang Chi-chao was a journalist and translator who had worked as a Chinese secretary for the Welsh Baptist and political activist Timothy Richard, whose goal was to subvert the Manchu regime. Liang was known for his powerful writing and was called by the court "the poison pen."
When the edict ordering Liang Chi-chao's arrest and beheading was issued, he was still in Peking. Yung Lu's men secured the city gates, and Liang sought refuge at the Japanese legation. It must have been a sweet surprise for the fugitive to find out that Ito Hirobumi happened to be a guest there.
"Liang was disguised as a Japanese and sent off to Tientsin," Yung Lu reported. "His escort was an infamous agent of the Genyosha."
My son looked like a blind man, gazing blankly into the middle distance as he listened to Yung Lu.
"Under the protection of the Japanese consul, Liang Chi-chao reached the anchorage at Taku and boarded the gunboat Oshima," Yung Lu continued. "Since we had been watching his movements closely, we caught up with the Oshima on the open sea. My men demanded the fugitive's surrender, but the Japanese captain refused to hand him over. He claimed that we had violated international law. It was impossible to carry out a search, although we knew Liang was hiding in one of the cabins."