The Last Empress - Anchee Min [118]
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