We set sail on a fall morning with good winds. By midday, we had navigated the Han River and were on the open sea. I sat in my chair gazing out at Korea through my porthole. As the boat cut through the waves toward China, the shore grew smaller and smaller. When it completely disappeared, I panicked. My breathing was short and my heart raced. I ran to the foredeck’s rail and frantically searched the horizon for my country. I only saw the rolling swells. I wanted to order the captain to turn the boat around and head back to Seoul. But weeks earlier, I had sent a message to Empress Cixi requesting an audience with her and she had accepted. I had no choice. I had to go on.
I went back to my quarters to try to calm my nerves, but I couldn’t. I tried to understand why I was panicking. I had always enjoyed traveling throughout Korea, and I enjoyed the seashore. But I had never been this far out to sea, and I had never been to where I could not see my country. Something inside me was missing.
I went to the trunk I had brought along, which was filled with papers and books. Inside I found Songs of Dragons Flying to Heaven. I sat in my chair and read the poems and songs inside. Eventually my panic eased.
The weather was in our favor and we made good time. For most of the four-day sail, I stayed in my quarters so that the crew could do its job instead of always stopping to bow to me. There, I read Songs of Dragons Flying to Heaven from cover to cover, practiced my Chinese, and rehearsed what I would say and how I would conduct myself with Empress Cixi. Midday on the fourth day, the bowman called out that the hills of Tianjin were in sight, and soon we were in port. We moored the ship to a dock and headed for Peking. For two days, my porters carried me in my palanquin through countryside and villages that looked just like home. The Chinese were short and dark compared to my people, but they looked more prosperous. They didn’t bow or even pause as my palanquin passed by. Instead, they went about their work, leading oxcarts filled with goods, tending to rice paddies, or building houses.
Finally we arrived in Peking. The city made me feel like we were in Seoul, only it was larger, more crowded, and some buildings were taller. But when we got to the Forbidden City in the center of Peking, I knew we were in a country far grander than Korea. I had seen paintings and sketches of the Chinese royal palace, but they did not do it justice at all. In Korea, the Taewŏn-gun had raised taxes and raided the treasury to build Gyeongbok into a grand palace, but it was nothing like this. The Forbidden City grounds were twice that of Gyeongbok, and there were twice as many buildings, too. A moat as wide as a river surrounded the entire palace. The central gate with its double pagoda roof and red stucco walls was much taller than Gwanghwamun Gate. The latticework was more intricate, and, where the roof tiles in Gyeongbok were gray-green, all the roofs here were gold. Seeing China’s grand palace, I wondered if my country would ever be able to get out from under its influence.
The palace’s sergeant of the guard and six of his men carrying gold armament met us at the gate. My guards and porters waited outside as the sergeant escorted me and my secretary through courtyards lined with marble statues and past massive halls decorated with gold emblems, lions, and dragons. We climbed white marble stairs to the Hall of Preserving Harmony—the empress’s throne room. The Chinese sergeant told the secretary to wait outside the hall. Then he escorted me inside. The hall was not as large or ornate as the throne room in Gyeongbok, and it was much older. However, the small size and simple decorations somehow gave it more nobility than ours, as if it was unnecessary for the Chinese to flaunt their power. In the center of the room was a gilded throne on a small dais. A rosewood chair sat at the foot of the dais. The sergeant at arms invited me to sit. “Her Majesty will be here soon,” he said with a bow.
I had expected a grand reception with Chinese dignitaries waiting to greet me, and afterward, an elaborate feast hosted by Empress Cixi. It was clear, however, that no such reception was forthcoming. I wondered if I had made a mistake coming here. Although we had corresponded, I had never met the Chinese empress before. She was older than me—nearly old enough to be my mother. She had been a minor concubine of Emperor Xianfeng, and when he died from a life of overindulgence, Cixi’s son was his only male progeny and the young boy became emperor. Cixi took power by having the men Emperor Xianfeng had appointed to act as regents for his son beheaded. She was intelligent, shrewd, and ruthless, and ruled her country with an iron hand. The reports were that no one bested Empress Cixi.
She marched into the throne room alone, wearing a black robe decorated with dozens of the Chinese symbol for longevity in gold leaf. She was petite like me, but her countenance filled the room. Her hair was fashioned so that it surrounded her face like a picture frame. She held her chin level and her eyes forward. She walked with short but deliberate steps. She made no notice of me as she mounted the dais and took her seat on the throne.
I thought her royal secretary would announce me and that the empress would have secretaries and ministers with her. Instead it was just us two—China’s notorious dowager empress and me. Somehow, being alone with her intimidated me more than if she had brought a dozen advisers.
She finally acknowledged me. “So you are the young queen I have heard so much about,” she said. Her voice was that of a much larger woman.
“Yes,” I said without adding the title “majesty” as I should have, given that I was her guest. “And you are the Chinese dowager empress.”
She took a fan from inside her robe and opened it. She began to fan herself. “What brings you here, so far from home?” she said, looking down at me. “Surely, you wouldn’t make such a trip if you did not have something important on your mind.”
I had practiced how I would engage the Chinese regent to gain an advantage. I let some time pass and returned her stare. I sat back and relaxed my posture. I gave her a most diplomatic smile.
“What is it?” Cixi scolded as if I was a child. “Don’t sit there and pose for me like a cat. Tell me what you want.”
Cixi had caught me off guard and now she had the advantage. I took the smile off my face and corrected my posture. “I have come here to talk to you about Japan,” I said, “and about relations between our two countries. I have come here for advice . . . Majesty.”
“Ah, little Japan,” Cixi said. “A handful of modest islands populated by dwarf barbarians. What do you want to know about them?”
“My father-in-law, the Taewŏn-gun, plots with them. He thinks they will protect us and help us be independent from China. I do not trust them. I believe they want to rule us.”
“Of course they do!” Cixi said. “Study your maps. The Japanese believe your peninsula is a dagger pointed at their heart. They are ambitious. They want to rule Asia. Taking Korea is their first step. You have minerals, forests, and resources that Japan needs.”
“I have seen the maps, Majesty, and I know why Japan wants us,” I said, trying to recapture some standing with the empress. “I am here to seek your assurance that you will keep them away. If they take the peninsula, they will be at your doorstep.”
The empress shrugged. “They are already at our doorstep. They fight us for control over islands in the East Sea. Their warships raid our merchant ships. I tell you, young queen, someday we will have to go to war with them for control of your country. And when we do, we will teach them a lesson.”
I took a moment to absorb this. Then I said, “I have learned that Emperor Meiji modernizes his military.”
“Meiji,” she snorted, “I think he is younger than you.” She glared at me and fanned herself faster. “Yes, Meiji. He and his reformists have embraced the West’s ways. But I don’t believe fancy new weapons from Europe and America will defeat us. We have our own modern weapons.”
“So if they move against us, will you help?”
Cixi grinned at me and her eyes narrowed. “And I suspect you will ask them for their help against us. You are like a rabbit between two angry tigers. And the tiger that wins gets to eat the rabbit.”
“But only if one tiger win
s, Majesty,” I said.
She threw her head back and laughed without covering her mouth. “Ha! You think you are clever. Well we will see about that. Of course, Japan and China are not the only tigers in the forest. There is Europe, the mongrel Americans, and the boorish Russia, too. Their eyes are also on you.”
I nodded. “Yes, I know. For the time, I am concerned about Japan. Can I count on your help if they threaten us?”
Cixi turned her head to the side. “It is best for us if the Japanese pirates stay out of Korea.”
“Thank you, Majesty,” I said. “You are truly a great leader as I have been told. I am pleased that we are allies.”
“Allies?” the empress said, raising her chin at me. “Is that what we are? For hundreds of years, your little peninsula has depended on us. Your coming here to see me tells me that you still do. But now, as Japan grows more powerful, you want reassurance. Okay, ally, you have it. Send regular updates to me. Let me know if the Japanese threaten.”
“I will, Majesty.”
She closed her fan and stood from her throne. She came down the dais to me. As she approached, I fought the urge to lower my eyes. She pressed her fan against my neck. “Take care to keep your head attached, young queen,” she said. Then the great dowager empress of China walked out and left me standing alone in the throne room.
TWENTY-ONE
When I got back to Korea, my pact with Empress Cixi emboldened me in my clashes with the Taewŏn-gun. I started to disagree with him on most everything. I opposed a strong alliance with Japan, and I had to keep my promises to the clan leaders, which usually put me at odds with the regent. But I often took the position I did simply to oppose him.
This, however, pushed Gojong closer to his father. Now that he had produced a healthy heir to the throne with Gwi-in, the king had a newfound confidence bordering on arrogance. He paid attention all the way through the afternoon meetings and asked good questions. A king was slowly coming out. However, having wasted his youth in slothful decadence, he didn’t have the knowledge or experience he needed to rule the country on his own. He still needed someone to lean on, and more and more, that someone was his father.
So I went to work on my husband. I appealed to his pride, telling him he was a great king. I complimented him on his decisions when he made them on his own. I pretended to accept his son with Gwi-in as being the true crown prince. I even gave the child small gifts and saw to it that Gwi-in was well cared for, though inside, I greatly resented having to do so. The king strutted around Gyeongbok like a rooster among hens. But I knew that his outward confidence covered a profound insecurity. He was the son of a strong father who had never shown him any respect. It’s why he had retreated to wine and the pipe as a young man and why he had let his father run the country for so long. And though he didn’t know it, it was why he needed me.
One night when Gojong and I were together in his bed, I said, “You are a great king, my husband. I am proud of all you have done. But you depend on your father too much. It makes you look weak. And a king who looks weak will not be the king for long.”
He grinned at me. “You want me to side with you, don’t you?”
“It is normal for a king to support his wife,” I replied. “But your father was the regent while you were young. When you depend on him as you do now, it appears to everyone that he, not you, runs the country.”
Gojong sat up on the bed with his legs folded underneath him. He turned serious. “I want to be a good king,” he said. “But it is difficult. I am not always sure of myself. Sometimes, I get afraid.”
It was the first time my husband had confided in me that way. I was heartened and encouraged that he did, but I knew that I could not turn him so easily after a lifetime of living under the harsh hand of his father.
I sat up and moved next to him. “If you are afraid, you can trust me,” I said.
Gojong did not respond. After a few minutes, he sent me back to my quarters.
Over the next few weeks, the king started to disagree with his father more and more. It was difficult for Gojong, and he often backed down. One day in the afternoon meeting, we were discussing a proposal from America to establish stronger diplomatic relations with them. “I do not recommend this, Majesty,” the Taewŏn-gun said in his high-pitched voice. “It is a dangerous precedent.”
The ministers said nothing so the king said, “What is the queen’s opinion on this matter?”
From my position behind the king, I said, “I believe strong diplomatic relations are an effective way to ease conflict.”
The king said, “She makes a good point, Father.”
The Taewŏn-gun scowled. “You concede to your wife too often. When will you learn to stand on your own?”
The room went as still as death. Gojong looked at his hands but his jaw was tight. After a few long seconds, he pushed himself off of his cushion and stormed out of the room.
That night when we were together, the king paced across his bedchamber and kicked at a cushion. “He thinks I’m a fool,” he complained. “He has always thought I’m a fool.”
“You are not,” I said. “You are a great king, my husband.”
“I do not want him in the meetings anymore,” he declared.
I said, “It would be perfectly appropriate if you sent him to live in Changdeok Palace. He enjoys the gardens there.”
“How do you think he will take it?” Gojong asked.
“Why does it matter?” I asked. “You are the king!” Gojong stared at me and nodded.
Early the next morning as the king stayed sheltered in his quarters, he sent guards to his father’s residence to take the Taewŏn-gun and Lady Min to Changdeok palace. If there was an outcry from the regent or from those loyal to him, it never reached the king’s ears.
And so finally Gojong and I ruled Korea without the Taewŏn-gun.
But with the Taewŏn-gun gone, I had a different problem. Now that my father-in-law was out of sight, I couldn’t keep an eye on him. He was free to plot with Mister Euno and the Japanese on how to get rid of me and take over again. So I placed spies among the staff at Changdeok, but the Taewŏn-gun and Mister Euno were cautious and my spies learned nothing. I was certain that the Taewŏn-gun, having ruled the palace for so long, had spies in Gyeongbok. I had to be careful about what I said and did.
A year after I sent him on his mission, my uncle returned from Japan and America. I was almost as glad to see him as his wife was. He looked grizzled and exhausted from his time abroad. His hair and goatee were now mostly gray. I let him be with his wife for a day and then had him report to me in my study. I sat at my desk when he came in. He bowed.
“It is good to see you, Uncle,” I said.
“It is good to be back, Majesty,” he replied, standing at the door, holding a brown leather satchel. “I am told the Taewŏn-gun is no longer involved in the government and you and the king now have complete control.
I motioned for him to sit in front of my desk. “Control is an illusion,” I said as my uncle sat on a cushion in front of me. “I only do my best, as you told me to do so many years ago.” My uncle smiled.
“Uncle,” I said, “you have made your trip to Japan and the United States. Tell me, what have you learned?”
My uncle frowned and hesitated. Finally he said, “I have learned that I was born in the dark. I went out into the light, and, Your Majesty, it is my displeasure to inform you that I have returned to the dark.”
“Tell me about the light,” I said.
He took out photographs and drawings from his satchel and placed them in front of me. He leaned back and paused as if he was searching for the words to describe all he saw. He said, “Majesty, the new world is like nothing you could imagine. What they call the Capitol Building in Washington, DC, is as white as snow and as tall as a mountain. In Chicago, there are buildings that reach twelve levels high with boxes on steel ropes that carry people to each level. In San Francisco, there are factories able to produce hundreds of i
tems every day. They have inventions so elaborate that the mind cannot possibly comprehend how they work. And electricity, Majesty! Lamps and motors and all manner of inventions powered by electricity! They say that American cities and factories will run on it in less than ten years. They have telegraphs throughout the country, and someday they will have telephones, too.” He pointed to the photographs and drawings he had placed in front of me. “I have brought you evidence of all these things.”
I examined a tintype of the US Capitol Building with a group of men posing in front of it. The white-domed building was enormous and reminded me of how I felt when I first set foot inside Gyeongbok Palace. I looked at another photograph of a factory with a huge steam engine powering a wheel as tall as two men. The wheel turned a machine that spun dozens of spindles holding thread. I had read about many of these things, but seeing them in these photographs and hearing my uncle’s descriptions made me realize that I had underestimated how far the rest of the world had gone.
“What about weapons?” I asked.
My uncle sighed. “I regret to tell you that the American and European weapons we have seen on our shores are just the beginning. They now have cannons that can fire heavy shells vast distances. They have rifles that a soldier can fire twenty times in a minute and kill a man a half mile away. They are building iron warships that our wooden ships could not possibly destroy.”
“I see,” I said, picking up a drawing of a man standing in front of a cannon much taller than he was. “And the Japanese? What did you learn about them?”
“Japan is not far behind, Majesty. They have opened trade to America and Europe to acquire these technologies. They are building at an alarming pace. I’m afraid that very soon Tokyo will be a city far greater than Seoul. There are pictures of Tokyo there, too.”
The Dragon Queen Page 19