I BEGIN A SECOND PORTRAIT OF HER MAJESTY--THE
PALACE PAINTERS
I had several days of good work on the portrait after the garden
party, when Her Majesty decided it was sufficiently advanced for the
characters, giving her name and titles, to be placed across the top of
the canvas. As she has sixteen appellations, represented by sixteen
characters, and as they were all to be placed upon the picture,
together with her two seals, official and personal, it required some
manœuvering to get them into the space required. This lettering was
looked upon as a very important detail; there were numbers of models
of the characters made before the proper size and style was arrived
at. The seals, about three inches long, had to be placed at either end
of the sixteen characters, and there was a great deal of deliberation
as to the color in which the characters were to be painted. Red was
finally decided upon. The two seals were to be painted, one in red
characters on a white ground, and the other in white characters on a
red ground. As I had not known these appellations were to be placed
across the top of the canvas when I began the portrait, I had not
allowed for them, and putting them on took away from the space above
the head and detracted from the general effect. This was another
discouragement. I left the discussion of the lettering to Her Majesty
and the writers, and I decided to give the canvas over entirely to the
latter for a few days, in order that they might place the characters
thereon, and that Her Majesty might have time to decide upon their
color at her leisure.
Her Majesty had told me, a few days before, she wished me to paint a
“number of portraits” of her, so I decided to begin another now, and
I hoped to be able, as this was not to be an official portrait, to
have a little more liberty in painting it. Her Majesty decided that
it should be painted in her ordinary dress and without the Manchu
coiffure, which she only wears at her Audiences, as it is very heavy
and very tiring to her head. The day I began the portrait she had
on a gown of soft, embroidered blue. Her hair, in a coil at the top
of her head, was beautifully dressed, with the jasmine flowers so
quaintly arranged, a realistic butterfly poised above them; her jewels
so discreet and picturesque, I asked her to pose and let me paint
her as she was then. Her coiffure, without the Manchu head-dress, is
much more becoming to her than with the huge, wing-like construction
which made her look top-heavy; for when she wore it, being in official
costume, she was obliged to wear a great profusion of jewels and
ornaments. In this portrait she was seated upon her Throne, but not in
a traditional attitude, and I began it full of hope; for, at least,
I had more choice as to the surroundings and accessories, which were
not obliged to be “according to tradition.” As it was only to be seen
by her intimates, I asked her to let me paint her two favorite dogs
lying beside her footstool, the blond “Shadza” and dusky “Hailo.” Her
Majesty gladly consented, and “Hailo” was ordered to be decorated in
his “gala costume.” This consisted of two huge chrysanthemums tied
in his hair over his ears. “Shadza,” the Pekingese pug, resented any
such accoutrement and was painted in his natural state. She took the
liveliest interest in the painting of the dogs’ portraits, and seemed
to think it much more wonderful to paint these little animals, so that
they were recognizable, than to make a likeness of herself. I was
obliged, of course, to do them very quickly. She sat behind me all the
time I was painting them, and the rapidity with which they grew much
astonished her.
I discovered about this time I was not the only painter in the Palace.
Her Majesty has a corps of painters always there. These painters
decorate the thousands of lanterns used in the Palace ceremonies and
processions. They paint the scenery for the spectacular plays at the
Theater, and the flowers used for the decorations of the screen-like
walls I have already alluded to. Some are very clever flower painters,
and one even paints portraits, but they have never seen the Empress
Dowager except from afar! Though Mandarins of the Third rank, the
painters were obliged to withdraw from the court where they worked when
Her Majesty and suite passed by. It was amusing to see these dignified,
handsomely gowned officials being hurried out of the court on Her
Majesty’s approach by the eunuchs who precede her. Their paintings
were submitted to her by one of the eunuchs, by whom she sent her
instructions to them.
I saw these painters first, at the time of the chrysanthemums. There
were some new varieties in one of Her Majesty’s courts that she wished
painted. One day, on going into this court, I saw a group of bebuttoned
officials studying the flowers. They gravely inclined their heads with
the customary dignity of the Chinese, and I found later they were
“confrères.”
It was interesting to me to see their methods--so different from ours,
but arriving at a very artistic result. I never spoke to them; but, as
I was an outer barbarian, I took advantage of my position and watched
them work from my windows, though I took care to keep myself hidden
behind the curtains, in true Oriental style. They worked in the court
quite near my pavilion. The chief painter selected the flower to be
copied, and the others stood around while he painted, petal by petal,
with most laborious and minute attention. While he worked, the others
took notes and made studies of the same flower. When this laborious
first study was finished, it was copied with a freer hand by one of
the painters, and this copy was copied until they finally arrived at a
dashing study, which seemed to be done “de premier coup.”
When the chrysanthemums were in their full glory, one day when Her
Majesty had allowed me to remain at my work while she and the Ladies
went for their walk, she brought me, on her return, a curious new
variety. When she handed it to me she said, “I will give you something
nice if you guess what I have named this flower.” It was one of those
new varieties with hair-like petals and a compact center, like the
bald head of an old man. I told her I was afraid I couldn’t guess, but
I thought “it looked like an old man’s head.” She was delighted, and
said, “You have guessed. I have just given it the name of the Old Man
of the Mountain.”
We were still having daily walks in the gardens, and there was always
some delightful little incident to make them pleasant and memorable.
One day, when we were out and were resting, while Her Majesty was
sitting alone before the “Peony Mountain,” the young Empress and Ladies
stood in a group at a little distance. We were near some arbor-vitæ
trees, and the young Empress picked a piece that looked like a
“peacock’s feather.” She told me to kneel and let her “decorate” me.
She stuck the curiously shaped branch in my hair so that it hung over
the neck and looked like the “peacock feather,” which is given as a
reward of merit to the highest officials, and is always worn upon
their hats. When she had placed it, she told me to rise, and called me
“Your Excellency Carl,” which is the title of those who possess the
decoration of the peacock feather. I kept it in my hair and soon quite
forgot my “decoration.” When we were walking on, Her Majesty noticed
it. She had been preoccupied and sad that day, but when she saw it she
smiled, and said, “Who decorated you with the peacock feather?” I told
her the young Empress had done so. She said that was her prerogative,
but she added, “If you were a man you would win it, and probably
a yellow jacket also, for you are fearless.” Why did she think me
fearless? Could she have heard that the foreigners in Peking seemed to
think it was almost as much as taking my life in my own hands to go and
live entirely alone among the Chinese at Court, and put myself in Her
Majesty’s power, after the Boxer trouble?
[Illustration: PAI-LOU IN GROUNDS OF SUMMER
PALACE--ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE]
Another afternoon we went into the Great Audience Hall when we were
passing it, and I had an opportunity of studying in detail the interior
of this magnificent hall. I examined closely some of the rare old
niellée bronzes and wonderful Chinese cloisonné, for here are some of
the finest specimens in the Summer Palace. In the back of the hall were
three pianos, two upright and a new Grand piano, which had but lately
arrived at the Palace. Her Majesty wished us to try the Grand piano,
and one of Lady Yu-Keng’s daughters, who had studied music in Paris,
played a few airs. Her Majesty thought the piano a curious sort of
instrument, but lacking in volume and tone for so large an instrument.
She asked me to play also, and then said she would like to see how
the foreigners danced, and suggested my playing some dance music. The
Misses Yu-Keng waltzed, and she thought it very amusing to watch them.
She could not, however, understand how ladies and gentlemen could
enjoy dancing together, nor what pleasure they found in it. She said
the Chinese pay others to dance for them, and would not think of doing
so themselves for pleasure. It seemed to her the charm was rather in
watching the graceful movements of the dancer than in executing those
movements one’s self. I wondered what she would say, could she see one
of our crowded European ball-rooms, with hundreds of couples on the
floor at the same time, making violent efforts to steer through the
crowd. I fancy she would not have found pleasure even in watching these
dancers.