The Last Empress Part 17

I never expected that the restoration of my retirement home would become a scandal. It began with a gesture of piety. When I decided to settle in the Summer Palace-originally called Ch'ing I Yuan, Garden of Clear Rippling Waters-it was Prince Ch'un who insisted that it be restored. As chief minister, he spoke on behalf of the Emperor. Ch'un meant to provide me with a comfortable home, which I gratefully accepted.

I did not want to embarra.s.s Prince Ch'un by pointing out that he had resisted the same idea when it was proposed by Tung Chih after he mounted the throne back in 1873. At that time Ch'un claimed that there was a shortage of funds. How, I wondered, would he raise the funds now? I could only conclude that he wanted to keep me strolling in my gardens rather than meddling in state affairs.

I remained pa.s.sive because it was time for Prince Ch'un to step into my shoes. As the minister of the Board of Admiralty, he had been a roaring tiger, tearing apart Li Hung-chang's effort to modernize China. What surprised me was his unlikely collaborator, Tutor Weng. Weng was a liberal and a strong advocate for reform who had supported Li's initiatives. But when he became Prince Ch'un's new minister of revenue, he discovered that he didn't like sharing power with Li. Prince Ch'un and Tutor Weng had already sent numerous memorandums denouncing Li and my approval of Li's projects. Both men were convinced that they could do a better job if they were given total control.

I had hinted to Li Hung-chang about what would be coming when I retired. It was frustrating to witness how Li was forced to endure humiliation, attacks on his character, even a.s.sa.s.sination attempts. The only thing I could do was show him how much I valued him. In a message delivered to Li by Yung Lu, his closest ally at court, I wrote, "If it becomes too much, you have my permission to take a leave of absence for any reason." I told him that I would grant any amount of compensation he might claim.

Li Hung-chang a.s.sured me that would be unnecessary and that my understanding of his sacrifices was all he needed to carry on. "It is not at all a good time for experimenting or allowing the stubborn-minded Ironhats time for self-discovery," I wrote him, "but that is how things are for me here."

I had lived with my husband in the Summer Palace. It was divided by lakes, called North Sea, South Sea and Middle Sea. Unlike Yuan Ming Yuan, which was a man-made wonder, the Summer Palace was designed to harmonize with nature's ways. The Garden of Clear Rippling Water, surrounding the palace itself, was only a small portion of the greater park area. Across its expanse, airy pavilions sat amid the lush green landscape, and the three large lakes glinted between shallow hills. My memories of the place were more than fond.

It was Guang-hsu who finally convinced me to allow the restoration to take place. He personally read his statement to the court urging the start of construction. "It is the least China can bestow on its Grand Empress, who has suffered so much." I could see that Guang-hsu was attempting to a.s.sert his independence, and I felt that I needed to support him.

When loyal ministers wrote to warn me of a "father-and-son plot" that intended to isolate me politically, I wrote on the back of their letters, "If there is a plot, it is one of my own design." I was more concerned about where the money would come from. The first priority of the admiralty and revenue boards was to establish China's navy, and I wanted that priority honored.

In June, Guang-hsu published his decree regarding the restoration of my home: "...I then remembered that in the neighborhood of the Western Park there was a palace. Many of the buildings were in poor condition and required restoration to make them fit for Her Majesty the Grand Empress's use as a place of solace and delight." He conferred a new name on the Garden of Clear Rippling Waters: it would now be known as the Garden for the Cultivation of Harmonious Old Age.

After demurring, I issued an official reply: "I am aware that the Emperor's desire to restore the palace in the west springs from his laudable concern for my welfare, and for that reason I cannot bear to meet his well-meaning pet.i.tion with a blunt refusal. Moreover, the costs of the construction have all been provided for out of the surplus funds acc.u.mulated as a result of rigid economies in the past. The funds under the control of the Board of Revenue will not be touched, and no harm will be done to the national finances."

My statement was meant to mollify those who opposed the plan, but I ended up falling into a trap. Soon I would be locked in two battles, an experience I would barely survive.

The first battle would be started by Tutor Weng. When the scholar-reformer was given the highest power, he encouraged Guang-hsu's already great pa.s.sion for reform. When he could have played a moderating role, Tutor Weng instead pushed him harder, setting the Emperor on a course that would ultimately prove disastrous both for our family and for China.

The second battle would be my fight against taking the responsibility for China's lost war with j.a.pan. Years later, when all of the men ran away from blame, I would be the one to bear the disgrace. What could I do? I had been fully awake, yet I did not escape the nightmare.

"In the end," one future historian would write, "the Board of Revenue did remain inviolate, but important funds, estimated at thirty thousand taels, were defrauded from the Board of Admiralty for Grand Empress Tzu Hsi-the amount would have doubled the entire fleet, which would have enabled China to defeat its enemy."

Unfortunately, I lived to read this criticism. It was when I was old and dying. I couldn't, didn't and wouldn't yell, "Go and take a look at my home!" The money I was charged with stealing would have built it three times with pure gold.

24.

Our troubles with j.a.pan over Korea had been going on for a decade. When Queen Min of Korea called for help, I sent Li Hung-chang. The Queen was under the threat of j.a.panese-backed mobs. I took the matter personally. I knew that I would seek the same help if such a thing should ever happen to me.

It took two years for Li Hung-chang to work out an agreement with j.a.pan's prime minister, Ito Hirob.u.mi. Li convinced me that the agreement would prevent the escalation of the Korean situation into a full-scale Sino-j.a.panese military confrontation.

I frantically did what I could to get Li's draft agreement approved. The Manchu Clan Council hated the very existence of Li Hung-chang and did their best to block his effort. Prince Ch'un and Prince Ts'eng said that my living in the Forbidden City for so long had warped my sense of reality, and that my trust in Li Hung-chang was misplaced. My instinct told me, however, that I would end up with Queen Min's own troubles if I relied on the Manchu royals instead of Li Hung-chang.

As a result of my advocacy, the Li-Ito Convention was signed. China and j.a.pan kept peace for a while. The Manchus stopped their campaign for Li Hung-chang's beheading.

But in March of 1893 Li sought an emergency audience with me at the Summer Palace. I was up before dawn to greet him. Outside in the garden, the air was crisp and cold, but the camellias were blossoming. I served Li hot green tea, for he had been traveling all night.

"Your Majesty." Li Hung-chang's voice was tense. "How have you been?"

I sensed unease and asked him to come to the point.

He knocked his forehead on the ground before letting out his words. "Queen Min has been deposed, Your Majesty."

I was stunned. "How ... how could that happen?"

"I don't have all the information yet." Li Hung-chang rose. "I only know that the Queen's ministers were brutally murdered. As of this moment, Korea's radicals are staging a coup."

"Does j.a.pan have a role in it?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. j.a.pan's secret agents infiltrated Queen Min's palace disguised as Korean security guards."

Li Hung-chang convinced me that there was nothing I could do to help Queen Min. Even if we could mount a rescue mission, we didn't know where the Queen was being held or even if she was still alive. j.a.pan was determined to swallow Korea. The conspiracy had been kept alive for over ten years. China had been taking turns with j.a.pan in backing rival factions in Seoul.

"I am afraid that China alone can no longer stop j.a.pan's military aggression," Li said.

The next weeks were tense, my days harried, my nights sleepless. Exhausted, I tried to supplant the worries of the moment by returning to something even more potent, replaying my earliest memories of my hometown of Wuhu.

Staring at the golden dragon ceiling above my bed, I recalled the last time I was with my best friend Gra.s.shopper. She was kicking the dirt with her feet, her legs as thin as bamboo stalks.

"I have never gone to Hefei," she said. "Have you, Orchid?"

"No," I replied. "My father told me that it's bigger than Wuhu."

Gra.s.shopper's eyes lit up. "I might get lucky there." She lifted her blouse to reveal her belly. "I am sick of eating clay."

Her belly was huge, like a bottom-up cooking pot.

"I haven't been able to s.h.i.t," she said.

I felt extremely guilty. As the daughter of the local governor, I had never known hunger.

"I am going to die, Orchid." Gra.s.shopper's tone was flat. "I will be eaten by a tableful of people. Will you miss me?"

Before I could answer, she went on. "My younger brother died last night. My parents sold him this morning. I wonder which family is eating him."

Suddenly my knees gave way and I collapsed.

"I am leaving for Hefei, Orchid."

The last thing I remembered was Gra.s.shopper thanking me for the feces from my family's manure pit.

The giant trees surrounding my palace made a wave-like sound. I lay in the dark, still unable to sleep. Leaving the past, I stumbled again into the present and thought about Li Hung-chang, the man from He-fei. Hefei, in fact, was his nickname. He too, I a.s.sumed, knew the hunger of peasants, and this had much to do with our mutual understanding and ambition to bring change to the government. It had come to bind us. I both looked forward to and dreaded audiences with Li. I didn't know what additional bad news he had to bring me. The only sure thing was that it would come.

Li Hung-chang was a man of courtesy and elegance. He brought me gifts, exotic and practical; once he presented me with reading gla.s.ses. The gifts always came with a story, about the place of their making or the cultural influences behind their design. It was not hard to imagine why he enjoyed great popularity. Besides Prince Kung, Li was the only government official that foreigners trusted.

I still could not sleep. I had a feeling that Li Hung-chang was on his way again. I imagined his carriage rambling through the dark streets of Peking. The Forbidden City's gates opening for him, one after another. The guards' whispers. Li being escorted through the mile-long entrance, along hallways and garden corridors and into the inner court.

I heard the temple's bell strike four times. My mind was clear but I was tired, and my cheeks were burning hot, my limbs cold. I sat up and pulled on my clothes. I heard the sound of footsteps, recognized the shuffle of soft soles and knew it was my eunuch. In the shadow of the moon Li Lien-ying came in. He lifted my curtain, a candle in his right hand. "My lady," he called.

"Is it Li Hung-chang?" I asked.

Li knelt before me wearing his prized double-eyed peac.o.c.k-feather hat and yellow silk field marshal's riding jacket. I was afraid of what he would say. It seemed only a short while since he had brought me the terrible news of Korea's Queen Min.

He stayed on his knees until I asked him to speak.

"China and j.a.pan are at war" was what he told me.

Although not surprised, I was still shaken. For the past few days the throne had ordered troops, under the leadership of Yung Lu, moved north to help Korea contain its revolt. Guang-hsu's edict read, "j.a.pan has poured an army into Korea, trying to extinguish what they call a fire that they themselves have lit."

I had little confidence in our military might. The court wasn't wrong in describing me as one who "got bitten by a snake ten years ago and has since been afraid of straw ropes."

I lost my husband and almost my own life during the 1860 Opium War. If England and its allies were superior then, I could only imagine them now, more than thirty years later. The possibility that I would not survive was real to me. Ever since his return from Sinkiang, Yung Lu had been working quietly with Li Hung-chang on strengthening our forces, but I knew they had far to go. My thoughts were with Yung Lu and his troops as they made their way north.

Li was in favor of allowing time for the joint efforts of England, Russia and Germany, who, under Li's repeated pleading for support, had agreed to persuade j.a.pan to "put out the war torch."

"His Majesty Emperor Guang-hsu is convinced that he must act," Li said. "The j.a.panese fired two broadsides and a torpedo, sinking the troopship Kowshing, Kowshing, which was sailing out of Port Arthur with our soldiers on board. Those who did not drown were machine-gunned. I understand His Majesty's rage, but we can't afford to act on emotion." which was sailing out of Port Arthur with our soldiers on board. Those who did not drown were machine-gunned. I understand His Majesty's rage, but we can't afford to act on emotion."

"What do you expect me to do, Li Hung-chang?"

"Please ask the Emperor to be patient, for I am waiting for England, Russia and Germany to respond. I am afraid any wrong move on our part will lose us international support."

I called Li Lien-ying.

"Yes, my lady."

"Carriage, to the Forbidden City!"

Li Hung-chang and I had no idea that j.a.pan had obtained England's promise not to interfere and that Russia had followed suit. We blistered our lips trying to persuade the enraged Guang-hsu to allow more time before issuing a war decree.

As the weeks pa.s.sed, j.a.pan became more aggressive. China's waiting showed no promise of being rewarded. I was accused of allowing Li Hung-chang to squander the precious time needed to mount a successful defense. I continued to trust Li, but I also realized that I needed to pay attention to the pro-war faction-the War Party-now led by Emperor Guang-hsu himself.

Once again I moved back to my old palace in the Forbidden City. I needed to attend the audiences and be available to the Emperor. Although I praised the Ironhats for their patriotism, I was reluctant to commit my support, for I remembered that thirty years ago they were certain they could defeat England.

Those who were against war, the Peace Party, led by Li Hung-chang, worried that I would withdraw my support.

"j.a.pan has been modeling itself after Western cultures and has become more civilized," Li tried to convince the court. "International laws should act as a brake to any intended violence."

"It takes an idiot to believe that a wolf would give up preying on sheep!" Tutor Weng, now the war councilor, spoke amid great applause. "China can and will defeat j.a.pan by sheer force of numbers."

It took me a while to figure out Tutor Weng's character. On the one hand, he encouraged Guang-hsu to model China after j.a.pan, but on the other, he despised j.a.panese culture. He felt superior to the j.a.panese and believed that "China should educate j.a.pan, as she has throughout history." He also believed that j.a.pan "owes China a debt for its language, art, religion and even fashion." Tutor Weng was what Yung Lu would have described as "good at commanding an army on paper." What was worse, the scholar told the nation that China's reform program would be like "sticking a bamboo in the sun-a shadow will be produced instantly."

Although he had never run a government, Tutor Weng was confident in his own ability. His liberal views inspired so many people that he was regarded as a national hero. I had trouble communicating with him, for he advocated war but avoided facing the mountain of decisions required to prosecute it. He advised me to "pay attention to the picture on an embroidery instead of the st.i.tches." Discussing strategy was his pa.s.sion. He lectured the court during audiences and would go on for hours. In the end, he would smile and say, "Let's leave the tactics to generals and officers."

The generals and officers on the frontier were confused by Tutor Weng's instructions. "'We are what we believe' is not the kind of advice we can tell our men to follow," they complained. Yung Lu, in a personal letter to me from the front, was especially contemptuous of Weng. But my hands were tied.

"Understanding the moral behind the war will win us the war," the grand tutor responded. "There is no better instruction than Confu-cius's teaching: 'The man of virtue will not seek to live at the expense of humanity.'"

When I suggested that he at least listen to Li Hung-chang, Tutor Weng simply said, "If we fail to react in a timely fashion, j.a.pan will enter Peking and burn down the Forbidden City, the same way England burned down Yuan Ming Yuan."

The Emperor's father, Prince Ch'un, echoed, "There is no betrayal worse than forgetting what the foreigners have done to us."

I left Tutor Weng alone but insisted that a new Board of Admiralty for war be set up under Prince Ch'un, Prince Ts'eng and Li Hung-chang. Six years earlier, Li had contracted with foreign firms to build fortified harbors, including major bases at Port Arthur in Manchuria and Wei-haiwei on the Shantung Peninsula. Ships were purchased from England and Germany. By now we had twenty-five warships. No one seemed to want to hear it when Li said, "The navy is far from ready for war. The naval academy has just finished drafting its curriculum and hiring its instructors. The first generation of student officers is only in training."

"China is equipped!" Prince Ch'un convinced himself. "All we need is to put our people on board."

Li Hung-chang warned, "Modern warships are useless in the wrong hands."

I couldn't stop the court from shouting patriotic slogans in response to Li.

Emperor Guang-hsu said he was all set to go to war: "I have waited long enough."

I prayed that my son would do what his great ancestors had done, rise to the occasion and put his enemies to flight. Yet deep in my heart, fear sank in. For all Guang-hsu's admirable qualities, I knew he was incapable of playing a dominant role. He had been trying hard, but he lacked a dynamic strategy and the necessary ruthlessness. A secret I kept from the public was Guang-hsu's medical and emotional problems. I just couldn't see him controlling his ill-tempered half-brothers, the leaders of the Ironhats. And I couldn't see him winning over the Manchu Clan Council either. I wished that Guang-hsu would tell me I was wrong, that despite his shortcomings he would be lucky and win the day.

I resented myself for not ending Guang-hsu's dependence. He continued to seek my approval and support. I kept silent when the entire Clan Council suggested that I resume daily supervision of the nation. I meant to provoke my son. I wanted him to challenge me, and I wanted to see him explode in rage. I was giving him a chance to stand up and speak for himself. I told him that he could overrule the council if he felt he should take power into his own hands. That was the case with the dynasty's most successful emperors, such as Kang Hsi, Yung Cheng and his great-grandfather Chien Lung.

But it was not to be. Guang-hsu was too gentle, too timid. He would hesitate, fall into conflict with himself and in the end give up.

Maybe I already sensed Guang-hsu's tragedy. I had begun suffering his fear. I felt that I was failing him. I got angry when his half-brother and cousin, Prince Ch'un Junior and Prince Ts'eng Junior, took advantage of him. They spoke to Guang-hsu as if he were below them. Sick of hearing my own voice, I continued to tell my son to act like an emperor.

I must have confused Guang-hsu. In retrospect, I could see that the monarch was not acting himself. It was I who demanded that he be someone he was not. He wanted so much to make me happy.