Anchee Min: Empress Orchid

I discarded the proposal. Although Lady Yun and I had never been friends, I wanted to do her justice. She had spoken of her fear that her daughter would be married to a “savage.” I told the court that Princess Jung was my daughter, and it was up to me, not the court, to decide her future. Instead of marrying her off in Tibet, I sent her to Prince Kung. I wanted Jung to have a private education and learn English. When she was done, I intended for her to be my secretary and translator. After all, the day might come when I would personally speak to the Queen of England.

THE PREPARATIONS for my husband’s burial were finally complete. It had taken three months and nine thousand laborers to build a special road to carry the coffin to the Imperial tomb. The bearers, all of the same height and weight, practiced day and night to perfect their steps. The tomb was located in Chihli province, not far from Peking. Each morning a table and chair were placed on top of a thick board weighing the same as the coffin. A bowl of water was placed on the table. An official climbed over the shoulders of the bearers to sit on the chair. His duty was to watch the water in the bowl. The bearers practiced marching until the water no longer spilled from the bowl.

Escorted by Yung Lu, Nuharoo and I took a trip to inspect the tomb. Officially it was called the Blessed Ground of Eternity. The earth was rock hard and covered with frost. After the long ride, I stepped down from the palanquin with stiff arms and frozen legs. There was no sun. Nuharoo and I were dressed in the customary white mourning clothes. Our necks were exposed to the cold air. Wind-blown dust beat at our skin. Nuharoo couldn’t wait to turn back.

The view moved me. Hsien Feng would be resting with his ancestors. His tomb was in one of two burial complexes, one to the east and the other to the west of Peking. It nestled in the mountains, surrounded by tall pines. The broad ceremonial way was paved with marble and flanked by enormous carved stone elephants, camels, griffins, horses and warriors. About a hundred yards along the marble road Nuharoo and I approached a pavilion in which Hsien Feng’s gold satin thrones and yellow dragon robes were kept. These would be displayed on the annual day of sacrifice. Like the mausoleum of his ancestors, Hsien Feng’s would also have its attendants and guardian troops. The governor of Chihli had been appointed to take care of the holy site and maintain its seclusion by restricting access.

We entered the tomb. The upper part, which was dome-shaped, was called the City of Treasuries. It was carved out of solid rock. The lower part was the tomb itself. The two levels were connected by staircases.

With the help of a torch we were able to see the interior. It was a large sphere about sixty feet in diameter. All was made of white marble. In the middle stood a stone bed set against a carved tablet eighteen feet in width. Emperor Hsien Feng’s coffin, on the day of the burial ceremony, would be placed on top of this bed.

There were six smaller coffins on either side of Emperor Hsien Feng’s stone bed. They were rose-colored and carved with phoenixes. Nuharoo and I glanced at each other and realized that two of them were meant for us. Our names and titles were carved on the panels: Here lies Her Motherly and Auspicious Empress Yehonala and Here lies Her Motherly and Restful Empress Nuharoo.

The cold air seeped through my bones. My lungs were filled with the smell of deep earth.

Yung Lu brought in the chief architect. He was a man in his late fifties, thin and small, almost a child in size. His eyes showed intelligence, and his kowtows and bows were performed in a style only Chief Eunuch Shim could have matched. I turned to Nuharoo to see if she had anything to say. She shook her head. I told the man to rise and then asked what had guided him to select this spot.

“I chose the site based on feng shui and the calculations of the twenty-four directions of mountains,” he replied. His voice was clear, with a slight southern accent.

“What tools did you use?”

“A compass, Your Majesty.”

“What is unique about this place?”

“Well, according to my calculations and those of others, including the court astrologers, this is where the breath of the earth has traveled. The center point gathers the vitality of the universe. It is supposed to be the proper spot to dig the Golden Well. Right here in the middle-”

“What is to accompany His Majesty?” Nuharoo interrupted.

“Besides His Majesty’s favorite gold and silver sutras, books and manuscripts, there are luminary lanterns.” The architect pointed at two giant jars standing on either side of the bed.

“What’s inside?” I asked.

“Plant oil with cotton thread.”

“Will it light?” Nuharoo took a closer look at the jars.

“Of course.”

“I mean, for how long?”

“Forever, Your Majesty.”

“Forever?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“It is damp in here,” I said. “Will water seep in and flood the space?”

“Wouldn’t that be awful!” Nuharoo said.

“I have designed a drainage system.” The architect showed us that the bed was slightly off level, which made the head a little higher than the foot. “Water will drip into the chiseled canal underneath and flow outside.”

“What about security?” I asked.

“There are three large stone doors, Your Majesty. Each door has two marble panels and is framed with copper. As you can see here, underneath the door, where the two panels come together, there is a chiseled half-watermelon-shaped pit. Facing the pit, about three feet away, I have placed a stone ball. A track for the ball to travel has been dug. When the burial ceremony is completed, a long-handled hook will be inserted in a slit and it will pull the stone ball toward the pit. When the ball falls into the pit, the door will shut permanently.”

We rewarded the chief architect a scroll with calligraphy by Emperor Hsien Feng, and the man retreated. Nuharoo was impatient to leave. She didn’t want to honor the architect with the dinner we had promised. I convinced her that it was important to keep our word. “If we make him feel good, he will in turn make sure Hsien Feng rests in peace,” I said. “Besides, we have to come here again on the burial day, and our bodies will be buried here when we die.”

“No! I’ll never come here again!” Nuharoo cried. “I can’t bear the sight of my own coffin.”

I took her hand in mine. “I can’t either.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Just stay for dinner and no more, my dear sister.”

“Why do you have to force me, Yehonala?”

“We need to gain the architect’s full loyalty. We need to help him drive out his fear.”

“Fear? What fear?”

“In the past, the architect of an Imperial tomb was often shut in with the coffin. The royal family considered him of no further use after he had finished his job. The living Emperor and Empress feared that the man might be bribed by tomb robbers. Our architect may fear for his life, so we should make him feel trusted and secure. We must let him know that he will be honored and not harmed. If we don’t, he might dig a secret tunnel to quell his fear.”

Reluctantly Nuharoo stayed, and the architect was pleased.

When Nuharoo and I returned to Peking, Prince Kung suggested that we announce the new government immediately. I didn’t think we were ready. The beheading of Su Shun had aroused sympathy in certain quarters. The fact that we had received fewer letters of congratulation than expected concerned me.

People needed time to develop confidence in us. I told Prince Kung that our rule should be the desire of the majority. We had to achieve at least the appearance of it in order to make us morally legitimate.