The foreign press described Nuharoo's death as 'mysterious' and 'suspicious' and speculated that I was the murderer. 'It is generally believed that Tzu Hsi brought about the death of her colleague,' a reputable English newspaper stated. 'She made up her mind to kill because she was discovered by Nuharoo in bed with a leading man of the opera.'
I was able to remain detached until Tung Chih was brought into the stories. 'She Did It Again: Yehonala Sacrificed Her Own Child on the Altar of Her Ambition!' shouted one headline in the British press, and the story was picked up by the Chinese papers. The article stated, 'When Emperor Tung Chih was critically ill, his mother, far from providing him with the proper medical care, allowed the disease to wreak havoc with his delicate constitution. Should we have any reason to doubt that she had not allowed the same to happen to her coregent?' Another paper echoed, 'Yehonala seemed intent on orchestrating the early death of her son and that of Nuharoo. Everyone at court knew that Tung Chih and Nuharoo would not live to see old age.'
I felt defenseless. To justify further foreign encroachments in China, I had to be made into a monster.
'It is inconceivable that Yehonala did not know of the shameful exploits of her son and Nuharoo,' one Chinese translation read, 'and the fatal consequences of such adventures. It was within her power to forbid these revels, yet she did nothing to prevent them.'
Day after day, slanderers from around the world poured their venom: 'We see how complete was the Dowager Empress's estrangement from her son and how total her lust for power.'
'For the young girl from the poorest province in China, no price is too high to maintain her despotic grip on the Celestial Empire.'
I dreamed that Yung Lu would come back to defend me. I cried at Tung Chih's altar and walked back in the middle of the night through the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing like a ghost. During the day's audiences, I would break down and weep like a schoolgirl. Guang-hsu kept passing me handkerchiefs until he started to weep himself.
20
The powerful strategist and businessman Li Hung-chang told me that not only was China facing an unavoidable war, but we were already deeply into it. For a week the court had discussed nothing but France's ambitions in our southern border provinces, including Vietnam, which China had long ago ruled before the Vietnamese gained a quasi-independence in the tenth century.
Soon after my husband's death in 1862, France colonized southern Vietnam, or Cochin China. Like the British, the French were hungrily drawn to trade in our southwestern provinces and had set their sights on control of the navigable Red River in northern Vietnam. In 1874 France forced the King of Vietnam to accept a treaty giving it the privileges of overlordship that China had traditionally enjoyed. Much to France's irritation, the King continued to send tribute to my son in exchange for protection.
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
