Part 17 (2/2)
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 leaders.h.i.+p 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 troops.h.i.+p Kows.h.i.+ng, Kows.h.i.+ng, 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 fas.h.i.+on.” 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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. s.h.i.+ps were purchased from England and Germany. By now we had twenty-five wars.h.i.+ps. 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 wars.h.i.+ps 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.
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