Yung Lu and I were helplessly undecided about whether or not to suppress the Boxers. The rest of the court, however, had made up their minds to join them.
Yung Lu told me that he had no faith in the Boxers' true ability to win battles against foreign invaders. Yet I couldn't get him to challenge the court. I asked him to submit a memorandum, and I would explain to the court why the Boxers must be stopped. He agreed.
When I received Yung Lu's draft, I thought about how strange our relationship had become. He was my most loyal and trusted official, and I depended on him constantly. We had come a long way from the days when we were young and poised on the brink of passion. I could, and did, relive those moments at my most private times. Now we had grown old, and the roles that brought us together were both comfortable and absolute. The feelings were still there, but they had mellowed and become deeper and lived side by side with the fact that now, in the midst of China's turmoil, our lives and survival depended on each other.
The day I read Yung Lu's draft to the audience, Princes Ts'eng and Ch'un accused me of losing momentum in the war against the barbarians. With the Boxers already massed in Peking's legation district, the princes had come to obtain the throne's permission to move in for the kill.
I started by saying that it was indeed gratifying for the throne to see our people display courage, to witness their enthusiasm for settling old scores against the foreigners. Then I asked the youths to bear in mind the consequences of their actions and to temper their fury before reality was swept away.
I told them what Yung Lu had told me: "As a fighting force the Boxers are absolutely useless, but their claims to supernatural arts and magic might help to demoralize the enemy. It would be quite wrong, not to say fatal, however, for us to attach any real belief to their ridiculous claims, or to regard them as of any real use in action."
My speech had the desired effect. Several of the conservatives ended up voting to cancel any immediate action against the legations. Nevertheless, the Boxer movement continued to ferment, and I knew that before long I would run out of options.
Requests for instructions on handling the situation continued to come in from all over the country. Yung Lu and Li Hung-chang devised a strategy. The throne would focus on discouraging the Boxers in southern China, where foreign nations had the most commercial enterprises and where we were vulnerable to intervention. The edict read, "The main goal is to prevent the throne's decree from becoming an excuse for the banding together of disorderly characters."
Once again the edict sounded ambiguous. It didn't condemn outright, but granted a degree of autonomy so that Li Hung-chang and other southern governors could carry on business as usual with foreign countries and suppress the Boxers, when necessary, with their provincial armies.
"The throne would like to remind the citizenry that the nation has been forced to pay compensation for the murders of foreigners. In the case of Shantung alone, on top of the governor's dismissal and the disbursement of six thousand taels of silver for bereaved families, Germany gained exclusive rights to our northeastern railways and coal mines and the license to build a naval station in Kiaochow. We lost both Kiaochow and Tsingtao; Germany gained them as leased concessions for ninety-nine years."
40
Guang-hsu did not raise his eyes from the clock he was fixing when I told him that ten thousand Boxers had taken control of the rail lines in the city of Chochou, fifty miles of Peking. "They attacked and burned down stations and bridges along with telegraph lines. The local authorities were repeatedly beaten for 'offering foreign devils the supply line.'"
"What else is new?" Guang-hsu muttered.
"Guang-hsu, the foreign legations have sent letters threatening military action if we don't suppress the Boxers, but if we do, the Boxers will topple the throne." I stopped, furious at Guang-hsu's apathy. For him, the world was enclosed in an old French porcelain mantel clock, clouds and cherubs painted on its surface.
Noticing my emotion, Guang-hsu looked up from the clock.
"For heaven's sake," I yelled, "say something!"
"Forgive me, Mother…"
"Please don't ask my forgiveness. Fight me or fight with me, Guang-hsu. Just do something!"
My son buried his face in his hands.
In early June 1900, the streets of Peking became the Boxers' parade ground. Crowds grew thick where "magic" was performed. The Boxers dashed forward and back, waving swords and spears. The weapons shone ominously in the sun.
East of the capital, near Tientsin, Yung Lu's forces tried to keep the Boxers from cutting the rail link between the foreign ships off Taku and the legations in the city. Yung Lu thwarted them, but his capture of the Boxers made him extremely unpopular. Prince Ts'eng Junior told his friends that he had put Yung Lu on his death list.
On June 8, Boxers set fire to the grandstand of the Peking racecourse, a popular gathering place for foreigners. Overnight the "China crisis" had caught the world's attention. George Morrison of the London Times wrote, "It is now inevitable that we should have to fight."
The next day Prince Ts'eng, with several Boxer leaders in tow, burst into the Summer Palace. Ts'eng's red turban was sweat-soaked and his skin was the color of a yam. I was told that he had been building up his muscles by pounding a sledgehammer under the hot sun. He smelled of liquor and his ferret eyes sparkled.
Before I had a chance to question him about the burning of the racetrack, Prince Ts'eng ordered all my eunuchs into the courtyard. He and a Boxer leader named Master Red Sword proceeded to examine their heads. He wanted to see whether any of them had a cross there. "This cross is not visible to an ordinary eye," he said to Li Lien-ying. "Only a certain few can identify a Christian this way."
Minutes later, Prince Ts'eng came to my chamber with Master Red Sword. Ts'eng told me that Master Red Sword had discovered that two of my eunuchs were Christians. He asked for permission to execute them.
I could not believe this was happening. I sat unmoved as Master Red Sword performed his kowtows. I could tell the man was thrilled and nervous at the same time-an ordinary Chinese peasant could only dream of seeing my face.
"What else have you promised this man?" I said to Prince Ts'eng. "Are you going to make him the minister of the Board of National Defense?"
Not knowing what to say, Prince Ts'eng rubbed his nose and scratched his head.
"Has this master had any schooling?" I asked.
"I know how to read a calendar, Your Majesty," the Boxer volunteered.
"So you must know what year it is."
"Yes, I do." The Boxer was pleased with his own quick tongue. "It is the twenty-fifth year, Your Majesty."
"The twenty-fifth year of what?"
"Of… of the Guang-hsu era."
"Did you hear him, Prince Ts'eng? What era again, Master Red Sword?"
"The Guang-hsu-"
"Louder!"
"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?"