To help hold the Vietnamese territory in the south, I granted freedom to a former Taiping rebel leader and sent him to repel the French. The rebel had been born in the area and considered it his homeland. He fought valiantly and succeeded in keeping the French at bay. But when the King died, the French negotiated another treaty with his successor, which stated, "Vietnam recognizes and accepts the protectorate of France."
In response to our court's ultimatum, the French launched a surprise military attack. Since we hadn't expected to go to war, our southwestern borders were neither strengthened nor prepared. By March of 1884 Li Hung-chang came to report that all of the major cities in Vietnam had fallen into French hands.
My court was divided over the crisis. Publicly, the dispute was over how best to deal with French aggression. Beneath the surface, however, was a widening gap between two political factions: the conservative Manchu Ironhats and the progressives, led by Prince Kung and Li Hung-chang.
I asked Guang-hsu, who had just turned fourteen, how he felt about the situation, and he replied, "As yet I do not know."
I wasn't sure whether or not my son meant to be humble. Months of sitting through court audiences seemed to have worn the boy down. He looked bored and listless. He had told me half jokingly that he would prefer a game of chess over attending an audience. When I told him that he must do what duty dictated, Guang-hsu responded, "I'm trying to glue myself to the dragon chair."
I tried to encourage him. "You are saving the nation, Guang-hsu."
"I haven't achieved anything. I just listen to the same arguments, day in and day out."
It was then that I discovered that Guang-hsu had skipped his audiences during the entire time I was making preparations for Nuharoo's funeral. This upset me more than receiving the news of cities falling in Vietnam.
I didn't know what else I could do to inject a sense of urgency into the young Emperor. One day during lunch I illustrated our position on a napkin, drawing a triangle representing the divided court with the Emperor caught in the middle.
I tried not to push too hard. I remembered how Tung Chih ran away while appearing obedient. I remembered his resentment and the irritation that had come into his voice. I told myself to make life Guang-hsu's game instead of mine.
The first thing I did was waive Guang-hsu's duty to officiate at the Confucian rites. Although I agreed with the court that Tung Chih's spirit required the performance of time-honored prayers and rituals for the comfort and security of his departed soul, I believed that Guang-hsu needed a break.
I didn't want Guang-hsu to live in Tung Chih's shadow. However, the court regarded his ascent to the throne as nothing but that. Without Nuharoo's supervision I began to bend the rules. A few ministers questioned my actions, but most court members understood it when I said, "Only when Guang-hsu has succeeded will Tung Chih's soul truly be at rest."
"Uncle Prince Ts'eng threatened suicide when I agreed to allow foreigners to live and trade in China," Guang-hsu reported. "He has asked my father to join him in funding the Boxers."
I was all too aware of the Boxers, a peasant movement with deep roots in traditional Chinese culture-or so their leaders claimed. Their numbers were growing rapidly.
"Unfortunately," I informed my son, "the Boxers' mission is to murder foreigners."
"Are you on Prince Kung's side, then?" Guang-hsu asked.
I let out a sigh.
"My father is full of nonsense," Guang-hsu went on. "His poems and calligraphy are exhibited everywhere."
"Prince Ch'un wants China to stay closed. What are your thoughts?"
"I agree with Uncle Kung," Guang-hsu replied. Then, looking me straight in the eye, he said, "I don't understand why you tell me to cease when I try to let the court know my opinion."
"The Emperor's job is to unite the court," I gently pointed out.
"Yes, Mother," Guang-hsu said obediently.
"I heard that you want to inspect the new navy."
Guang-hsu nodded. "Yes, very much. Li Hung-chang is ready, but the court won't give me permission to receive him. My father thinks he is the real Emperor, though I wear the clothes."
"What do you think of Prince I-kuang's handling of the Board of Foreign Affairs?"
"He seems to be more capable than the rest. But I don't really like him, or my other uncles." Guang-hsu paused for a moment and then continued. "To tell you the truth, Mother, I have been establishing contacts with people outside the court circle. Thinkers and reformers, people who know how to really help me."
"Make sure you understand what reform means in practice." I didn't want to admit that I had little idea myself.
"I do, Mother. I have been working up a reform plan."
"What would be your first edict?"
"It would be to remove privileges from those who enjoy government salaries while contributing nothing."
"Are you aware of the size of this group?"
"I know there are hundreds of royal pests who are paid for their princeships and governorships. My father, uncles, brothers and cousins are their patrons."
"Your younger brother, Prince Ch'un Junior, has become the new star of the Ironhats," I warned him. "His gang vowed to destroy anyone who supports Prince Kung and Li Hung-chang."
"I'll be issuing the edicts, not Prince Ch'un Junior."
"Support Prince Kung and Li Hung-chang and maintain good relations with the conservative party," I advised.
"I am prepared to abandon them," Guang-hsu said in a calm voice. His determination pleased me, although I knew I couldn't afford to encourage him further.
"You should not abandon them, Guang-hsu."
The Emperor pivoted his head toward me and stared.
"They are the heart of the Manchu ruling class," I explained. "You must not turn blood relatives into enemies."
"Why?"
"They can use the family law to overthrow you."
Guang-hsu seemed unsure. He got off his chair and paced the hall.
"Funding the Boxers is one of the Ironhats' strategies," I said, taking a sip of tea. "They are backed by our friend the Canton governor, Chang Chih-tung."
"I know, I know, they are the influential leaders and are resentful if not hostile toward all foreigners." Guang-hsu went back to his chair and sat down. He let out a heavy sigh.
I rose to add hot water to his teacup.
"Should I trust Li Hung-chang?" Guang-hsu asked. "He seems to be the most successful dealmaker with the foreign powers."
"Trust him," I replied. "However, keep in mind that your brother Ch'un cares about the Manchu Dynasty no less than Li Hung-chang."
The spring air was gritty with sand blown by the strong desert wind. It wasn't until April that the wind softened to a breeze. Under the warm sun the eunuchs let go of their brown winter robes that made them look like bears. The Imperial backyard concubines slipped into their ankle-length chipaos, dresses of Manchu design that cleverly complimented the female figure.
I missed strolling the streets of Peking under the sunshine. It had been over a quarter of a century since I'd had the pleasure. Images of the city came to me only in my dreams. I missed looking into lanes and courtyards where fermiana trees were in bud and loquat trees bloomed in bunches. I missed the baskets of the peony sellers by the busy crossroads. I remembered the scent of their freshly cut flowers and the sweet smell of date trees.
Ball-like willow catkins chased each other inside the Forbidden City. They flew over the inner walls and through the windows and landed on my desk while I outlined what I had read in reports from overseas.
Guang-hsu sat beside me. "Li Hung-chang says he has sent reinforcements to the trouble spot, but from others I hear different," Guang-hsu said, cupping his hands together under his chin.