The Last Empress - Anchee Min [56]
Now an adolescent, Guang-hsu did show determination and self-discipline. I was relieved when he exhibited no desire to cavort with the eunuchs and no interest in slipping out of the palace to carouse. He seemed to prefer solitude. He would eat his meals alone and was uneasy around company. When dining with Nuharoo and me, he sat quietly and ate whatever was put on his plate. My sadness over the loss of Tung Chih affected him so profoundly that Guang-hsu made sure that his behavior would please me.
I wished that I could tell the difference between his seriousness in study and his encroaching melancholy. Even though my experience told me that daily audiences could be a tremendous strain, I didn't realize that to a child they could be poison.
Eager to bring him to maturity, I denied the possibility that I could be robbing him of his childhood. Guang-hsu's pleasant appearance fooled me. Only later would he confess that he feared that he wasn't living up to my expectations.
I didn't tell Guang-hsu that losing was simply a way of learning how to win. I was afraid of repeating my mistakes with Tung Chih. Spoiling and pampering were in part what had killed my son. Tung Chih rebelled because he knew that he didn't have to worry about losing my affection.
Guang-hsu followed strict protocol and etiquette. Tutor Weng took every measure to prevent him from the possibility of abusing his privileges. Thus Guang-hsu was turned into a palace hostage. Only later would I learn that each and every time the ministers addressed their problems to the child, he would consider them his own. He became ashamed of himself for his inability to solve the problems of the empire.
Around 1881 my health declined. I lost my normal cycle and again had trouble sleeping. I ignored my fatigue and sudden flushes of heat and hoped they would go away. By the time the country celebrated my forty-sixth birthday in November, I was seriously ill. It took me longer to rise and dress, and I had to drink ginseng tea to keep up my strength. Nevertheless, I continued to attend audiences and supervise Guang-hsu's study. I encouraged Tutor Weng to introduce the Emperor to people from outside the capital.
Guang-hsu granted the governors of twenty-three provinces private audiences. The senior governors that had been appointed by my husband, Emperor Hsien Feng, were especially grateful. I attended each audience and was glad to meet with my old friends. We often had to pause to dry our tears.
By the onset of winter I was completely exhausted. My chest was congested and sore, and I had terrible diarrhea. One morning I passed out during an audience.
Dressed in her golden court robe, Nuharoo visited me the next morning. It was the first time I saw her hair wrapped on a black board in the shape of a V, rich with jewelry and ornaments. I complimented her and asked if she would conduct the audiences. Nuharoo agreed, then added, "But don't expect me to be a slave."
***
I hadn't had the leisure of waking up to daylight for years. As winter became spring, my energy slowly returned. Spending the day in the sunshine, I worked in my gardens. I thought of Yung Lu and wondered how he was doing in the distant Moslem state. I had written to him but received no response.
Guang-hsu stopped by after audiences and brought me dinner. He had grown taller and was sweet and gentle. He kindly placed a piece of roasted chicken on my plate and asked if I was enjoying the new blooming camellias.
I asked Guang-hsu if he wondered about life outside the Forbidden City, and also if he missed his parents. "Mother and Father are permitted to visit me at any time," he replied. "But they haven't come."
"Maybe you should invite them."