The Last Empress - Anchee Min [61]
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