The Last Empress - Anchee Min [119]
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!"
38
The shouting grew louder in the streets of Peking: "Uphold the great Ch'ing Dynasty!" "Exterminate the barbarians!" The Ironhats used these outcries to force me to take their side. Until reformer Kang Yu-wei's murderous intentions were exposed, I hadn't the chance to ask myself: Who are my real friends?
Kang's repeated calls for international intervention disappointed and disillusioned