On top of the reform disaster, 1898 also turned out to be a long and bitter year of flood and famine. First the harvest failed in Shantung and surrounding provinces, then the Yellow River engulfed hundreds of villages in a savage flood. Thousands became homeless, making it impossible to sow the next year's crops. Worse, locusts descended to devour the meager remains. The squatters, the out-of-work, the discontented and the dispossessed longed for a reason, a cause, a scapegoat.
I was kept busy trying to put out the fires. The Ironhats had proposed hanging Pearl Concubine as a means of making the Emperor bear responsibility. Pearl was found guilty of violating numerous palace rules. I rejected the trumped-up charges, offering no explanation.
The anti-foreign riots continued. An English missionary was murdered in the southwest province of Kweichow, and a French priest was tortured and killed in Hupeh. In the provinces where foreigners lived in close quarters with Chinese, grievances fomented unrest, particularly in German-controlled Kiaochow, the birthplace of Confucius. Locals resented Christianity. In the British- and Russian-controlled areas of Weihaiwei and Liaotung violence broke out when the foreigners decided that they, as leaseholders, were entitled to benefit from Chinese taxes.
In the name of protecting me, Prince Ts'eng and his sons called for the Emperor's abdication. Ts'eng's faction was backed by the Manchu Clan Council and General Tung's Moslem army. Though hard for me to continue to support Guang-hsu, I knew the dynasty would fall with Prince Ts'eng in power. All of the industries and international connections Li Hung-chang had built, including our diplomatic relationships with Western countries, would end. A civil war would give the foreign powers a perfect excuse to intervene.
Stability would require Guang-hsu's continuation as Emperor. I granted an alternative plan presented by the conservatives which said I was to resume the regency. Guang-hsu signed his name but wanted nothing more to do with it.
"The affairs of the nation are at present in a difficult position," the edict read, "and everything awaits reform. I, the Emperor, am working day and night with all my powers. But despite my careful toil, I constantly fear being overwhelmed by the press of work. Moved by a deep regard for the welfare of the nation, I have repeatedly implored Her Majesty to be graciously pleased to advise me in government, and have received her assent. This is an assurance of prosperity to the whole nation, its officials and its people."
It was a humiliation for both Guang-hsu and me. It spoke of the Emperor's incompetence as well as my poor judgment in putting him on the throne in the first place.
Shortly after the edict was issued, Guang-hsu fell ill. I had to rush through my audiences in order to be with him. Soon my son was bedridden. All Doctor Sun Pao-tien's efforts failed, his herbal medicines exhausted. The rumor that the Emperor was dying, or had already died, spread. It seemed to prove Kang Yu-wei's earlier assertion that the poison I was said to have been giving Guang-hsu was now "showing its deadly effect."
I-kuang, our minister of foreign affairs, received numerous inquiries regarding the throne's "disappearance." I-kuang was no Prince Kung. All he could say to me was "Invasions have been discussed among the legations."
My son knew that he must show himself in the court, but he could barely get out of bed.
"If you insist that His Majesty attend, he could easily pass out in the middle of an audience," Sun Pao-tien warned.
Yung Lu agreed. "His Majesty's appearance would do more harm than good."
After witnessing a fit of vomiting that left my son wrung out and sobbing, I put out an urgent call to all the provinces for able physicians. No Chinese doctors dared to come forward. Surprisingly, I received a collective request from the foreign legations. From the letter's wording, the legations seemed to give credence to Kang Yu-wei's version of events: "Only a thorough medical examination of His Majesty will clear the air of the corrosive rumors and restore British and international confidence in the regime." The letter offered the assistance of Western doctors.
But the court and Guang-hsu himself declined the offer. To the court, the throne's health was a matter of national pride and his current condition a secret. As for Guang-hsu, he had suffered enough humiliation as Emperor and didn't want to suffer more as a man. He knew his own condition, and didn't want the world to find out why he was childless.
I was reluctant to subject my son and China to further embarrassment, but as a mother I was committed to try everything to save my son's life. A Western doctor might be Guang-hsu's last hope for regaining his health. I might not have been a worldly woman, but I wasn't stupid. I believed that "in a tiny piece of spotted skin one could visualize an entire leopard." My French hair dyes, English clocks and German telescope spoke of the people who created them. The industrial marvels of the West-telegraph, railroad, military armaments-spoke even louder.
I asked delicately if Guang-hsu was willing to reveal the complete truth, meaning mention of his sexual dysfunction. My son gave a positive reply. I was relieved and went to share the good news with my daughters-in-law. We became hopeful, and together we went to the Palace Temple to pray.
In the last week of October, a French physician, Doctor Detheve, was escorted to the Forbidden City and into the Emperor's bedroom. I was present throughout the medical interview. The doctor suspected a kidney ailment and concluded that Guang-hsu suffered a number of secondary symptoms brought on by that illness.
"At first glance," Doctor Detheve's evaluation read, "His Majesty's state is generally feeble, terribly thin, depressed attitude, pale complexion. The appetite is good, but the digestion is slow… Vomiting is very frequent. Listening to the lungs with a stethoscope, which His Majesty gladly allowed, did not reveal indications of good health. Circulatory problems are numerous. Pulse feeble and fast, head aching, feelings of heat on the chest, ringing in the ears, dizziness, and stumbling that gives the impression that he is missing a leg. To these symptoms add the overall sensation of cold in the legs and knees, fingers feeling dead, cramps in the calves, itching, slight deafness, failing eyesight, pain in the kidneys. But above all there are the troubles with the urinary apparatus… His Majesty urinates often, but only a little at a time. In twenty-four hours the amount is less than normal."
Guang-hsu and I were left with a favorable impression of the doctor and looked forward to his treatment. What we didn't expect was that his evaluation would find its way to the public. We had no way of knowing whether it was intentional or not. Nevertheless, the evaluation became the inspiration of gossips in China, Europe and the United States. It was the last blow to Guang-hsu's self-image. From the grinning expressions of the court during audiences I could tell that our ministers had read a translation of Doctor Detheve's opinion.
Chinese provincial newspapers and magazines spread the gossip as news: "His Majesty habitually had his ejaculations at night, followed by voluptuous sensation. Doctor Detheve's evaluation concluded, 'These nocturnal emissions have been followed by the lessening of the faculty to achieve voluntary erections during the day.' It was Detheve's opinion that the Emperor's illness made sexual intercourse impossible. The Emperor could not make love to his Empress or his concubines. And without sex, His Majesty would remain childless, which means that there will be no heir to the throne." Such reports made the Ironhats demand Guang-hsu's replacement.
I witnessed the sacrifice of my son's dignity. Although the French doctor's examination demonstrated that Guang-hsu was alive and that therefore I could not be his murderer, I was devastated.
Although Guang-hsu continued to suffer-high fever, little appetite, his throat and tongue swollen and raw-for the sake of appearances he offered to sit with me during audiences.
For the radical reformers, the image of the two of us sitting side by side served as proof of my being a tyrant. The newspapers published their observations, describing how the victimized Emperor must have felt about his living hell. In a popular version, Guang-hsu was seen "drawing huge pictures of a mighty dragon, his own emblem, and tearing them up in despair."
The Ironhats, on the other hand, found justification in orthodox Chinese thought: Guang-hsu had virtually plotted matricide, and there was no crime in the Confucian canon more heinous than a dereliction of filial piety, especially in an emperor, the moral exemplar of his people.
I was supposed to brandish before Guang-hsu the proper moral righteousness. But I could not ignore his pain. My son was brave enough to face the men he had ordered to resign before the attempted coup. Every day now he sat on a carpet made of a thousand needles. He might continue to have the court's loyalty, but would he have its members' respect?
Given my son's delicate health, I was moved to accept the Ironhats' proposal of considering his replacement. I acted sincerely throughout the debates and in the end pronounced P'u-chun, Prince Ts'eng Junior's adolescent son, my grandnephew, the new heir. However, I insisted that P'u-chun undergo a character evaluation, a test I was sure the spoiled boy would fail. As I predicted, he did fail, miserably, and he was removed from consideration.
Guang-hsu's throne was secure, for the time being at least, but he appeared bored and would slip away from audiences the first chance he got. Afterward, I would find him playing with his clocks. He wouldn't open the door, nor would he talk to me. His sad eyes showed emptiness, and he told me that his mind "wanders like a homeless ghost." The only thing he didn't tire of saying was "I wish I were dead."
I summoned my daughters-in-law. "We must try to help," I said.
"You should leave His Majesty alone," Pearl Concubine was quick to respond.
I asked why I should do so, to which Pearl replied, "Maybe Your Majesty should consider going back to your retirement. The throne is a grown man. He knows how to run his empire."
I asked Pearl if she remembered that it was she who introduced Kang Yu-wei to my son.
The girl was furious. "The reform failed because Guang-hsu was never left alone to run his business. He has been under investigation, imprisoned in his own quarters, separated from me. I am sorry… this is-I can't think of any other way to put it-a conspiracy against Emperor Guang-hsu."
I didn't know what to make of this wild outburst. Was she really trying to provoke me?
When Pearl asked to attend Guang-hsu, I refused. "Not in your state of mind. My son can take no more harm."
"You are afraid I will tell him the truth."
"I don't think you know what the truth is." I told Pearl that unless she cooperated with me and acknowledged her past wrongdoings, she would not be allowed to see Guang-hsu again.
"His Majesty will ask for me," Pearl protested. "I will not be a prisoner!"