The Last Empress - Anchee Min [147]
Watching my body abandoning itself was a terrifying experience. Yet there was nothing I could do. I continued to follow the doctors' advice and took the bitterest herbs, but each morning I felt worse than the day before.
My body had begun to consume itself, and I knew my time had come. Before the eyes of the court I tried to mask my condition. Makeup helped. So did cotton batting worn under my clothes. Only Li Lien-ying knew that I was a bag of bones and that my stools lacked all formation. I began coughing up blood.
I tried to prepare my son, but stopped short of revealing my true condition. "Your survival depends on your domination," I said to him.
"Mother, I feel unwell and unsure." Guang-hsu looked at me sad-eyed.
The dynasty has exhausted its essence was the thought that came to my mind.
My astrologer suggested that I invite an opera troupe to perform happy songs. "It will help drive out the mean spirits," he said.
A letter of farewell from Robert Hart reached me. He was returning home to England for good. He would depart on November 7, 1908.
I could hardly bear the thought that I was losing another good friend. Though I was in no condition to receive guests, I summoned him.
Dressed in his official Mandarin robe, he bowed solemnly.
"Look at us," I said. "We are both white-haired." I did not have the energy even to tell him to sit down, so I gestured toward the chair. He understood and took the seat.
"Forgive me for not being able to attend your farewell ceremony," I said. "I haven't been well, and death is waiting for me."
"Also for me." He smiled. "However, it is the good memories that count."
"I could not agree more, Sir Robert."
"I come to thank you for offering me so much over the years."
"I can only take credit for my effort to meet you this time. Once again the court was against it."
"I know how hard it is to make exceptions. Foreigners have a bad reputation in China. Deservedly so."
"You are seventy-two years old, aren't you, Sir Robert?"
"Yes, I am, Your Majesty."
"And you have been living in China for..."
"Forty-seven years."
"What can I say? You should be proud."
"I am indeed."
"I trust that you have made arrangements for someone to take over your duties."
"There is nothing to worry about, Your Majesty. The customs service is a well-oiled machine. It will run itself."
It surprised me that he never mentioned the honors he received from the Queen of England, nor did he talk about his English wife, from whom he had been separated for more than thirty-two years. He did mention his Chinese concubine of ten years and the three children they had. Her death. His regrets. He mentioned her suffering. "She was the sensible one," he said, and wished that he had done more to protect her.
I told him of my troubles with both of my sons—something I had never shared with anyone else. We sighed over the fact that loving our children was not enough to help them survive.
When I asked Sir Robert to tell me about his best time in China, he answered that it was working under Prince Kung and Li Hung-chang. "Both were courageous and brilliant men," he said, "and both were helplessly stubborn in their own unique ways."
Last we mentioned Yung Lu. From the way Sir Robert looked at me, I knew he understood everything.
"You must have heard the rumors," I said.
"How could I not? The rumors and the fabrications of the Western journalists and some of the truth."
"What did you think?"
"What did I think? I didn't know what to think, to be honest. You were quite a couple. I mean, you worked together well."
"I loved him." Shocked by my own confession, I stared at him.
He didn't seem to be surprised. "I am happy for my friend's soul, then. I had long sensed that he had feelings for you."
"We did the best