China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

from somewhere a few miles away to the north of the city. It was probably a barn out in the country, I thought. And I was just continuing on my way when a second column of smoke started to rise up, next to the first.

I stopped and thought. It was impossible to gauge accurately from inside the city’s walls, but the smoke did seem to be coming from the direction of the Summer Palace. And then, with a sinking feeling, I suddenly realized: It could be. Since the looting, the Yuanmingyuan would have been pretty much deserted. If something caught light in one of the pavilions, no one would have seen. A fire could have smoldered for hours until the building finally caught light. And then the flames could easily spread from one tinder-dry wooden roof to another.

So I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me to Prince Gong’s mansion. He was there. I told him breathlessly what I’d just seen and we went outside to look. A third column of smoke had already appeared.

The prince cursed. “That barbarian Elgin told me there would have to be punishment—that’s what he called it, punishment—for our treatment of the hostages. But he didn’t say what.”

“He would burn the Yuanmingyuan?” I asked incredulously.

“Who knows? Who knows what these creatures would do?”

“Your slave begs you, let me go there,” I cried.

He looked at me. “You are not to kill anybody, especially Lord Elgin,” he said drily. “That is an order. I’ve enough trouble on my hands.”

“Your slave swears,” I replied fervently.

“Try not to get yourself killed, either,” he remarked.

We both knew there was nothing I could do. But he knew I had to go. They were burning China’s treasures. You might as well tell a mother not to run to where her children are being burned. If I could just save something. Anything.

—

The sun was high in the morning sky, but I couldn’t see it. Under the huge black cloud that hung over the park, day had turned into night. A night lit by fires.

The Yuanmingyuan was like an infernal region: The emperor’s residence was already a charred wreck, swept by little whirlwinds of glowing cinders. A nearby temple had become a roaring wall of fire. As I looked, a pagoda began to spout a column of oily smoke. Everywhere, figures like demons ran about, silhouetted by the crackling flames.

And the demons wore red uniforms.

They weren’t only burning the pavilions in front of the lake. They’d started to move around it, from island to island. The Peony Terrace had been wrecked and its buildings set alight. I do not know how many British soldiers were at work in that huge park. They say four thousand. But one thing is certain: They were determined to destroy the imperial paradise as if it had never been.

I had started to make my way around the lake when I saw a party of British barbarians just ahead. The officer in charge glanced at me, but he obviously wasn’t interested. If some foolish palace person wanted to watch, let him.

He clearly didn’t know who I was, but I recognized him. It was Goh-Dun. He and his men had encountered that prettily carved stone bridge that led onto the Apricot Blossom Spring Island. They were hauling with ropes and pulleys. But the little bridge was holding firm. I was glad that our bridge wasn’t giving in to them. They paused and Goh-Dun consulted with the sergeant. They were probably thinking: Let’s get some gunpowder so we can blow it up.

Then Goh-Dun turned and stared at me. So I stared back. And I’m not certain, because it’s hard to know with a barbarian, but I think he looked ashamed—though whether that was because he was embarrassed by his vandalism or because he’d failed to knock it down, I couldn’t say. Then they gave up and moved on.

There was nothing I could do. I had such a sense of helplessness. And strangely—this I can’t explain—watching so much wickedness without lifting a finger, I felt as if I were guilty myself. After that, I could not bear to stay there anymore, and I departed.

—

The British didn’t finish their work that day, or the next. They continued smashing, burning down, and looting anything they had missed before. The Apricot Blossom Spring Villa, the Temple of Universal Peace, the Island of Shrines: Every single haven of peace and beauty in the paradise of the Yuanmingyuan was destroyed forever. They even went beyond the Yuanmingyuan into the outer parks and destroyed most of them, too. On the third day they stopped. Perhaps they were tired.

I have heard that a big group of palace people and maidservants who were hiding in one of the outer pavilions were burned alive when their retreat was set on fire. It might have been so, or it might not. But even without that horror, the crime was great enough.

Why did the British burn down the Summer Palace? Lord Elgin put up a big sign, written in Chinese, to say that it was to punish us for our cruelty and treachery over the hostages. The death of the hostages was to be regretted, certainly. But is that a just cause for the destruction of one of the wonders of the world?

Some say it was just an excuse, and that he really just wanted to cover up the looting his men had done in the days before. But he had publicly allowed the looting, and all the soldiers had received their share, so he could not hide that business. In any case, the destruction of the outer parks went far beyond the original looting sites of the Yuanmingyuan—and I bet his men pocketed any other valuables they found out there.

This much is certain. In their victory, if such it may be called, the barbarians showed abundantly how well they deserved that name. And they showed not only their barbarism but also their contempt for the Celestial Kingdom,