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 stitches." Discussing strategy was his passion. 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 fashion, Japan 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. Ships were purchased from England and Germany. By now we had twenty-five warships. 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 warships 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.
I returned to the Summer Palace, tired of the endless bickering between the War Party and the Peace Party. The burden of arbitration was left solely to me, not because I had any special competence but because nobody else could do any better.
Behind my back and in the midst of the national crisis, Prince Ch'un requisitioned the funds Li Hung-chang had borrowed for the naval academy. Ch'un built motor launches for the amusement of the court at the lake palaces in Peking and on Kun Ming Lake, near where I lived.
Later on, Li Hung-chang would confess, "The Emperor's father was in a position to demand money from me at any time. I let him have his way in exchange for not interfering with my business affairs."
Other admiralty funds were used by Prince Ch'un and Prince Ts'eng to shower gifts on me, underwriting lavish and unnecessary projects in order to win my support. The repair of the Marble Barge was an example.
Enraged, I confronted Prince Ch'un: "What pleasure would the costly damn barge bring me?"
"We thought Your Majesty would enjoy going out on the water without wetting her shoes," my brother-in-law said. He further explained that the Marble Barge was originally built by Emperor Chien Lung for his mother, who was afraid of water.
"But I love the water!" I yelled. "I would swim in the lake if I were only allowed to!"
Prince Ch'un promised to stop the project, but he lied. It was hard for him to quit-he had already dispersed most of the funds, and he needed an ongoing excuse to push Li for additional money.
Li Hung-chang parried with Prince Ch'un. Instead of going to foreign banks for loans, Li launched a "Navy Defense Fund Drive." He made no effort to hide the fact that the money he raised would actually benefit "the Dowager Empress's sixtieth birthday party." Li meant to shoot down Prince Ch'un, but I was being used as collateral. Li Hung-chang must have believed that I deserved this treatment because I was responsible for teaming him up with Prince Ch'un in the first place.
Guang-hsu declared war on Japan, but he had little confidence in overseeing it. He relied on Tutor Weng, who knew wars only through books. I had yet to learn how conflicted Guang-hsu was as a man. Lan let me know that her husband was a romantic at heart, but was afraid of women.
"We have been married for five years." Lan's lips trembled and she broke down. "We slept together only once, and now he wants a separation."
I promised to help. The result was that the couple agreed to continue to live together in the same compound. What saddened me was that Guang-hsu had built a wall around his apartment in order to block Lan's entrance.
When I talked with Guang-hsu, he explained that his neglect of Lan was out of self-defense. "She told me that I owe her a child."
He described Lan's midnight intrusions. "She scared my eunuchs, who thought that her shadow was that of an assassin."
When I tried to make Guang-hsu understand that Lan had her wifely rights, he said that he didn't think he was able to perform his duty as a husband.
"I haven't been cured yet," he said, meaning his involuntary ejaculations. "I don't think I ever will be."
Guang-hsu had bravely mentioned his condition to me before, but I had hoped things would improve with greater experience in love.
I was unable to overcome the feeling that I had created a tragedy. It made me feel even worse to know that Lan believed I could force Guang-hsu to love her.
During the day, Guang-hsu and I conducted audiences dealing with the war against Japan; in the evening, we buried ourselves in documents and drafts of edicts. The only time we could relax a bit was during late- night breaks. I tried to talk casually about Lan, but Guang-hsu knew my intention.