The Last Empress (5 page)

Grateful to General Tseng, I rewarded him with a promotion. To my surprise, he turned it down.

"It is not that I wouldn't be honored," Tseng explained in his letter to me. "I am more than honored. What I don't want is to be seen by my peers as a symbol of power. I fear that my rise in rank would feed the greed for power in the government. I would like to make every general around me feel comfortable and equal. I want my soldiers to know that I am one of them, fighting for a cause, not for power or prestige."

In my reply I wrote: "As coregents, all Nuharoo and I desire to see is order and peace, and this goal simply cannot be achieved without your being in charge. Until you accept the promotion, we won't be able to rest our conscience."

Tseng Kuo-fan reluctantly complied.

As the senior governor in charge of the provinces of Jiangsu, Jiang-hsi, and Anhwei, Tseng Kuo-fan became the first Han Chinese whose rank was equal to that of Yung Lu and Prince Kung.

Tseng worked tirelessly yet continued to be what others would describe as overcautious. He kept his distance from the throne. His
suspicion was a classic one. In countless instances over China's long history, even as a powerful general was honored, plans were made for his murder. This was especially so when the ruler feared that the general had surpassed him in power.

Tung Chih was becoming susceptible to his uncle Prince Kung's negative attitude toward the Han. I begged them both to see things differently and to help me regain the trust of Tseng Kuo-fan. My thinking was that if Tseng were to provide stability, my son would be the one to benefit.

In Tung Chih's name I let Tseng Kuo-fan know that I would protect him. When Tseng revealed his doubts, I tried to reassure him—I promised that I wouldn't retire until my son showed sufficient maturity to assume the throne.

I convinced Tseng that it would be safe for him to act as he saw fit. With my encouragement, the general began to plan battles broader and more ambitious in scope. Gathering his forces from the north, he moved steadily south until he established headquarters near Anking, a strategically important city in Anhwei. Tseng Kuo-fan then ordered his brother, Tseng Kuo-quan, to station his army outside the Taiping capital at Nanking.

An-te-hai created a map to help me visualize Tseng's movements. The map looked like a fine painting. An-te-hai put little colored flags over its surface. I saw Tseng dispatch the Manchu general Chou Tsung-tang to the south to encircle the city of Hangchow, in Chekiang province. General Peng Yu-lin was assigned to block the Yangtze River shoreline. Li Hung-chang, Tseng Kuo-fan's most trusted man, was given the job of blocking the enemy's escape route near Soochow.

The flags on the map changed daily. Before New Year's Day of 1869, Tseng launched a grand attack, wrapping up the Taipings like a spring roll. To further secure his position, he pulled in forces from north of the Yangtze. For the final enclosure, he worked with Yung Lu, whose soldiers came from behind to cut the Taipings' supply line.

"The encirclement is as tight as a sealed bag," An-te-hai said, sticking out his chest and striking a Tseng-like pose. "Nanking is crumbling!"

I moved the little flags around like chess pieces on a board. It became a pleasure. By Tseng Kuo-fan's moves, I could trace how his mind worked and thrilled at his brilliance.

For days I sat by the map, ate my meals there and kept up with all the battle news. From a recent report I learned that the Taipings had
pulled out their last forces from Hangchow. Strategically, this was a fatal mistake. Li Hung-chang soon rounded up the remnants of the army at Soochow. Li's counterpart General Chou Tsung-tang moved in and took Hangchow. The rebels lost their base. With all the Imperial forces in place, Tseng Kuo-fan charged.

Tung Chih cheered and Nuharoo and I wept when the report of the final victory reached the Forbidden City. We climbed into our palanquins and went to the Heavenly Altar to comfort Hsien Feng's spirit.

Once again in Tung Chih's name I issued a decree honoring Tseng Kuo-fan and his fellow generals. A few days later I received a detailed report from Tseng confirming the victory. Then Yung Lu returned to the capital. In our usual quiet manner we shared our excitement. As my ladies in waiting and An-te-hai looked on, Yung Lu informed me of his own role in the battles and praised General Tseng's leadership. Expressing concern, he told me that Tseng had recently lost most of his sight following a serious eye infection. Delays in treatment had worsened the condition.

I summoned Tseng Kuo-fan for a private audience as soon as he had returned to Peking.

In his flowing silk robe and peacock tail hat the Chinese general threw himself at my feet. His forehead remained down to express his gratitude. As he waited for me to utter "rise," I myself rose and bowed in his direction. I ignored etiquette; it seemed the proper thing to do.

"Let me take a good look at you, Tseng Kuo-fan," I said with tears in my eyes. "I am so glad you returned safely."

He rose and went to sit on the chair An-te-hai provided.

I was surprised to see that he was no longer the vital man I remembered from only a few years before. His magnificent robe could not hide his frailty. His skin was leather dry and his bushy eyebrows looked like snowballs. He was about sixty years old, but a slight hunch in his back made him look a decade older.

After tea was served I suggested that he follow me to the drawing room, where he could sit more comfortably. He wouldn't move until I told him that I was tired of sitting on a chair whose deeply carved wood hurt my back. I smiled and said that the ornate furniture in the audience hall was good only for show.

"You see, Tseng Kuo-fan, I can barely hear you." I pointed at the distance between us. "It is not easy for either of us. On the one hand, it is considered rude if you raise your voice. On the other hand, I can't bear to not hear you."

Tseng nodded and moved to sit near me, on my lower left. He did not know that I had fought for this meeting. The Manchu clansmen and Prince Kung had ignored my request to honor Tseng with the private audience. I pleaded that if it hadn't been for Tseng Kuo-fan, the Manchu Dynasty would have come to an end.

Nuharoo had refused to take my side when I went to her for support. Like the rest, she took Tseng Kuo-fan for granted. Eventually I persuaded her to back the invitation, but a few hours before the meeting was to take place, she again changed her mind.

I was beside myself with anger.

Nuharoo yielded, but sighed and said, "If only you had one drop of royal blood in you."

True, I had not a drop. But that was precisely what drew me to Tseng Kuo-fan. By treating him with respect, I was respecting myself.

My negotiations with the Imperial clan had ended in compromise: I was to meet Tseng for fifteen minutes.

"I heard that you have lost your sight. Is that true?" I asked while watching the clock ticking on the wall. "May I know which eye is bad?"

"Both eyes are bad," Tseng replied. "My right eye has gone blind almost completely. But my left can still detect light. On a good day I can see blurred figures."

"Have you recovered from your other maladies?"

"Yes, I can say that I have."

"You appear to kneel and rise freely. Is your frame still sound?"

"It is not what it used to be."

The thought of ending the meeting made my voice break. "Tseng Kuo-fan, you have worked hard for the throne."

"It has been my pleasure to serve you, Your Majesty."

I wished that I could invite him to see me again, but I was afraid that I would not be able to keep my word.

We sat and remained quiet.

As etiquette required, Tseng kept his head lowered, his eyes resting on a spot on the floor. The steel clasp of his riding cloak made a clinking noise every time he changed position. He seemed to search for my exact location. I was sure he could not see me even with his eyes wide open. Reaching for his teacup, his hands groped the air. When An-te-hai brought in sweet sesame buns, his elbow almost upset the tray.

"Tseng Kuo-fan, do you remember the first time we met?" I tried to cheer us up.

"Yes, of course." The man nodded. "It was fourteen years ago ... at the audience with His Majesty Emperor Hsien Feng."

I raised my voice a bit so I was sure he could hear me. "You were strong with a stout chest. Your gathered eyebrows made me think that you were mad."

"Was I?" He smiled. "I was impatient back then. I wanted to live up to His Majesty's expectations."

"You did. You have achieved more than anyone could have expected. My husband would be proud. I have already visited his altar to report the news you brought him."

Tseng lowered his head and began to weep. Glancing up after a time, he peered in my direction, struggling to see. The light in the sitting room was too dim, however, and he again lowered his gaze.

An-te-hai came in to remind us that our time was up.

Tseng collected himself to bid me goodbye.

"Finish your tea," I said softly.

As he drank, I looked at the silver mountains and ocean waves embroidered on his cloak.

"Would it be all right if I asked my doctor to visit you?"

I asked. "It would be very kind of Your Majesty."

"Promise me that you will take care of yourself, Tseng Kuo-fan. I am counting on seeing you again. Soon, I hope."

"Yes, Your Majesty, Tseng Kuo-fan will do his best."

I never got to see him again. Tseng Kuo-fan died less than four years later, in 1873.

Looking back, I felt good about honoring the man personally. Tseng opened my eyes to the wider world outside the Forbidden City. He not only made me understand how the Western nations took advantage of their Industrial Revolution and prospered, but also demonstrated that China stood a chance to accomplish great things. Tseng Kuo-fan's last advice to the throne was to build a strong navy. His historic achievement, the triumph over the Taiping rebels, gave me the confidence to pursue such a dream.

Since his infancy, Tung Chih had been taught to think that I was his subordinate more than his mother. And now that he was thirteen, I had to be careful what I said to him. Like handling a kite in a capricious wind, I held on to a thin thread. I learned to silence myself whenever tense breezes blew.

One morning soon after my final meeting with General Tseng, An-te-hai requested a moment with me. The eunuch had something important to tell me, and he asked for my forgiveness before opening his mouth.

I said "rise" several times, but An-te-hai remained on his knees. When I ordered him to come closer, he shuffled toward me on his knees and settled in a spot where I could hear his whisper.

"His Young Majesty has been infected with a terrible disease," An-te-hai said gravely.

I stood up. "What are you talking about?"

"My lady, you've got to be strong..." He pulled at my sleeve until I sat back down.

"What is it?" I bounced back up.

"It is ... well, he got it from the local brothels."

For a moment I couldn't register the meaning of his words.

"I was informed about Tung Chih's nightly absences," An-te-hai continued, "so I followed him. I am sorry I couldn't bring the information to you sooner."

"Tung Chih is the master of thousands of concubines," I snapped. "He didn't need to..." I stopped, realizing I was being foolish. "How
long has he been visiting the brothels?" I asked, composing myself.

"A few months." An-te-hai reached out to hold my elbow.

"Which ones?" I asked, shaking.

"Different ones. His Young Majesty was afraid of being recognized, so he avoided those the royals frequent."

"You mean Tung Chih went to those used by commoners?"

"Yes."

I couldn't still my imagination.

"Don't let despair take hold of you, my lady!" An-te-hai cried.

"Summon Tung Chih!" I pushed the eunuch away.

"My lady." An-te-hai threw himself before me. "There is need to discuss a strategy."

"There is nothing to discuss." I raised my hand and pointed to the door. "I shall confront my son with the truth. It's my duty."

"My lady!" An-te-hai knocked his forehead on the ground. "A blacksmith wouldn't hit an iron bar when it is cold. Please, my lady, think again."

"An-te-hai, if you are afraid of my son, are you not also afraid of me?"

I should have listened to An-te-hai and waited. If I had controlled my emotions, as I had been careful to do in my court, An-te-hai wouldn't have ended up paying for it. I would not have lost both my son and An-te-hai.

Standing in front of me, Tung Chih looked as if he had come out of a pool of water. Sweat glistened on his forehead. Holding a handkerchief, he kept wiping his face and neck. His complexion was blotchy and pimples marked his jaw line. I had thought that his skin condition was due to his age, that his body elements were out of balance. When I asked about the brothels, he denied all. It wasn't until I called in An-te-hai that Tung Chih admitted what he had done.

I asked if he had seen Doctor Sun Pao-tien. Tung Chih replied that there was no need because he didn't feel sick.

"Summon Sun Pao-tien," I ordered.

My son stared at An-te-hai with narrowing eyes.

It was a mess after Doctor Sun Pao-tien arrived. The more Tung Chih tried to lie, the more the doctor suspected. It would be days before Sun Pao-tien would announce his findings, which I knew would break me.

I sent An-te-hai to search Tung Chih's palace. I canceled the day's
audience and looked through my son's belongings. Besides opium, I found books of an illicit nature.

I summoned Tsai-chen, Prince Kung's fifteen-year-old son, Tung Chih's closest companion. I pressured and cajoled Tsai-chen until he confessed that it was he who loaned the books and he who had taken Tung Chih to the brothels. Showing no guilt, Tsai-chen described brothels as "opera houses" and whores as "actresses."

"Summon Prince Kung!" I called.

Prince Kung was shocked no less than I, which made me realize that the situation was worse than I had imagined.

When I forbade Tsai-chen from ever visiting again, Tung Chih was even more upset.