she has a sad, gentle face. She is rather stooped, extremely thin, her
face long and sallow, and her teeth very much decayed. Gentle in
disposition, she is without self-assertion, and if at any of the
audiences we were to greet her she would return the greeting, but would
never venture a remark. At the audiences given to the ladies she was
always present, but never in the immediate vicinity of either the
Empress Dowager or the Emperor. She would sometimes come inside the
great hall where they were, but she always stood in some inconspicuous
place in the rear, with her waiting women about her, and as soon as she
could do so without attracting attention, she would withdraw into the
court or to some other room. In the summer-time we sometimes saw her
with her servants wandering aimlessly about the court. She had the
appearance of a gentle, quiet, kindly person who was always afraid of
intruding and had no place or part in anything. And now she is the
Empress Dowager! It seems a travesty on the English language to call
this kindly, gentle soul by the same title that we have been accustomed
to use in speaking of the woman who has just passed away."
My wife tells me that,--"A number of years ago I was called to see Mrs.
Chang Hsu who was suffering from a nervous breakdown due to worry and
sleeplessness. On inquiry I discovered that her two daughters had been
taken into the palace as concubines of the Emperor Kuang Hsu. Her
friends feared a mental breakdown, and begged me to do all I could for
her. She took me by the hand, pulled me down on the brick bed beside
her, and told me in a pathetic way how both of her daughters had been
taken from her in a single day.
"'But they have been taken into the palace,' I urged, to try to comfort
her, 'and I have heard that the Emperor is very fond of your eldest
daughter, and wanted to make her his empress.'
"'Quite right,' she replied, 'but what consolation is there in that?
They are only concubines, and once in the palace they are dead to me.
No matter what they suffer, I can never see them or offer them a word
of comfort. I am afraid of the court intrigues, and they are only
children and cannot understand the duplicity of court life--I fear for
them, I fear for them,' and she swayed back and forth on her brick bed.
"Time, however, the great healer with a little medicine and sympathy to
quiet her nerves, brought about a speedy recovery, though in the end
her fears proved all too true."
In 1897 the brother of this first concubine met Kang Yu-wei in the
south, and became one of his disciples. Upon his return to Peking,
knowing of the Emperor's desire for reform, and his affection for his
sister, he found means of communicating with her about the young
reformer.
At the time of the coup d'etat, and the imprisonment of the Emperor,
this first concubine was degraded and imprisoned on the ground of
having been the means of introducing Kang Yu-wei to the notice of the
Emperor, and thus interfering in state affairs. She continued in
solitary confinement from that time until the flight of the court in
1900 when in their haste to get away from the allies she was overlooked
and left in the palace. When she discovered that she was alone with the
eunuchs, fearing that she might become a victim to the foreign
soldiers, she took her life by jumping into a well. On the return of
the court in 1902, the Empress Dowager bestowed upon her posthumous
honours, in recognition of her conduct in thus taking her life and
protecting her virtue.
Some conception of the haste and disorder with which the court left the
capital on that memorable August morning may be gleaned from the fact
that her sister was also overlooked and with a eunuch fled on foot in
the wake of the departing court. She was overtaken by Prince Chuang who
was returning in his chair from the palace, where, with Prince Ching,
he had been to inform their Majesties that the allies were in
possession of the city. The eunuch, recognizing him, called his
attention to the fleeing concubine, who, when he had alighted and
greeted her, begged him to find her a cart that she might follow the
court. Presently a dilapidated vehicle came by in which sat an old man.
The Prince ordered him to give the cart to the concubine and sent her
to his palace where a proper conveyance was secured, and she overtook
the court at the Nankow pass.
At the audiences, this concubine was always in company with the Empress
Yehonala, standing at her left. She, however, lacked both the beauty
and intelligence of her sister.
The ladies of the court, who were constantly associated with the
Empress Dowager as her ladies in waiting, are first, the Imperial
Princess, the daughter of the late Prince Kung, the sixth brother of
the Empress Dowager's husband. Out of friendship for her father, the
Empress Dowagers adopted her as their daughter, giving her all the
rights, privileges and titles of the daughter of an empress. She is the
only one in the empire who is entitled to ride in a yellow chair such
as is used by the Empress Dowager, the Emperor or Empress. The highest
of the princes--even Prince Ching himself--has to descend from his
chair if he meet her. Yet when this lady is in the palace, no matter
how she may be suffering, she dare not sit down in the presence of Her
Majesty.
"One day when we were in the palace," says Mrs. Headland, "the Imperial
Princess was suffering from such a severe attack of lumbago, that she
could scarcely stand. I suggested to her that she retire to the rear of
the room, behind some of the pillars and rest a while.
"'I dare not do that,' she replied; 'we have no such a custom in
China.'"
She is austere in manner, plain in appearance, dignified in bearing,
about sixty-five years of age, and is noted for her accomplishment in
making the most graceful courtesy of any lady in the court.
During the Boxer troubles and the occupation, her palace was plundered
and very much injured, and she escaped in her stocking feet through a
side door. At the first luncheon given at her palace thereafter, she
apologized for its desolate appearance, saying that it had been looted
by the Boxers, though we knew it had been looted by the allies. At
later luncheons, however, she had procured such ornaments as restored
in some measure its original beauty and grandeur, though none of these
dismantled palaces will regain their former splendour for many years to
come.
Next to the Imperial Princess are the two sisters of Yehonala, one of
whom is married to Duke Tse, who was head of the commission that made
the tour of the world to inquire as to the best form of government to
be adopted by China in her efforts at renovation and reform. It is not
too much to suppose that it was because the Duke was married to the
Empress Dowager's niece that he was made the head of this commission,
which after its return advised the adoption of a constitution. The
other sister is the wife of Prince Shun, and is the opposite of the
Empress. She is stout, but beautiful. She has always been the favourite
niece of the Empress Dowager, appeared at all the functions, and though
very sedate when foreign ladies were present at an audience, I was told
by the Chinese that when the imperial family were alone together she
was the life of the company. She would even stand behind the Empress
Dowager's chair "making such grimaces," the Chinese expressed it, as to
make it almost impossible for the others to retain their equilibrium.
As she was the youngest of the three sisters, and because of her happy
disposition, the Chinese nicknamed her hsiao kuniang, "the little
girl." These three sisters are all childless.
The Princess Shun and Princess Tsai Chen, only daughter-in-law of
Prince Ching, herself the daughter of a viceroy, were very congenial,
and the most intimate friends of all those in court circles. The latter
is beautiful, brilliant, quick, tactful, and graceful. Of all the
ladies of the court she is the most witty and, with Princess Shun, the
most interesting. These two more than any others made the court ladies
easy to entertain at all public functions, for they were full of
enthusiasm and tried to help things along. They seemed to feel that
they were personally responsible for the success of the audience or the
luncheon as a social undertaking.
Lady Yuan is one of two of these court ladies who dwelt with the
Empress Dowager in the palace, the other being Prince Ching's fourth
daughter. She is a niece by marriage of the Empress Dowager, though she
really was never married. The nephew of the Empress Dowager, to whom
she was engaged, though she had never seen him, died before they were
married. After his death, but before his funeral, she dressed herself
as a widow, and in a chair covered with white sackcloth went to his
home, where she performed the ceremonies proper for a widow, which
entitled her to take her position as his wife. Such an act is regarded
as very meritorious in the eyes of the Chinese, and no women are more
highly honoured than those who have given themselves in this way to a
life of chastity.
The second of these ladies who remained in the palace with the Empress
Dowager is the fourth daughter of Prince Ching. Married to the son of a
viceroy, their wedded life lasted only a few months. She was taken into
the palace, and being a widow, she neither wears bright colours nor
uses cosmetics. She is a fine scholar, very devout, and spends much of
her time in studying the Buddhist classics. She is considered the most
beautiful of the court ladies.
The Empress Dowager took charge of most of the domestic matters of all
her relatives, taking into the palace and associating with her as court
ladies some who were widowed in their youth, and keeping constantly
with her only those whom she has elevated to positions of rank, or
members of her own family. Nor was she too busy with state affairs to
stop and settle domestic quarrels.
Among the court ladies there was one who was married to a prince of the
second order. Her husband is still living, but as they were not
congenial in their wedded life, the Empress Dowager made herself a kind
of foster-mother to the Princess and banished her husband to Mongolia,
an incident which reveals to us another phase of the great Dowager's
character--that of dealing with fractious husbands.
XIV
The Princesses--Their Schools
The position accorded to woman in Chinese society is strictly a
domestic one, and, as is the case in other Eastern countries, she is
denied the liberty which threatens to attain such amazing proportions
in the West. There is no reason to suppose that woman in China is
treated worse than elsewhere; but people can of course paint her
condition just as fancy seizes them. They are rarely admitted into the
domestic surroundings of Chinese homes, therefore there is nothing to
curb the imagination. The truth is that just as much may be said on one
side as on the other. Domestic happiness is in China--as everywhere
else the world over--a lottery. The parents invariably select partners
in marriage for their sons and daughters, and sometimes make as great
blunders as the young people would if left to themselves.--Harold E.
Gorst in "China."
XIV
THE PRINCESSES--THEIR SCHOOLS[1]
[1] Taken from Mrs. Headland's note-book.
One day while making a professional call on the Princess Su our
conversation turned to female education in China. I was deeply
interested in the subject, and was aware that the Prince had
established a school for the education of his daughters and the women
of his palace, and was naturally pleased when the Princess asked:
"Would you care to visit our school when it is in session?"
"Nothing would please me more," I answered. "When may I do so?"
"Could you come to-morrow morning?" she inquired.
"With pleasure; at what time?"
"I will send my cart for you."
The following morning the Prince's cart appeared. It was lined with
fur, upholstered in satin, furnished with cushions, and encircled by a
red band which indicated the rank of its owner. A venerable eunuch, the
head of the palace servants, preceded it as an outrider, and assisted
me in mounting and dismounting, while the driver in red-tasselled hat
walked decorously by the side.
The school occupies a large court in the palace grounds. Another
evidence of Western influence in the same court is a large two-story
house of foreign architecture where the Prince receives his guests.
Prince Su was the first to have this foreign reception hall, but he has
been followed in this respect by other officials and princes as well as
by the Empress Dowager.
"This is not unlike our foreign compounds," I remarked to the Princess
as we entered the court.
"Yes," she replied, "the Prince does not care to have the court paved,
but prefers to have it sodded and filled with flowers and shrubs."
The school building was evidently designed for that purpose, being
light and airy with the whole southern exposure made into windows, and
covered with a thin white paper which gives a soft, restful light and
shuts out the glare of the sun. The floor is covered with a heavy rope
matting while the walls are hung with botanical, zoological and other
charts. Besides the usual furniture for a well-equipped schoolroom, it
was heated with a foreign stove, had glass cases for their embroidery
and drawing materials, and a good American organ to direct them in
singing, dancing and calisthenics.
I arrived at recess. The Princess took me into the teacher's den, which
was cut off from the main room by a beautifully carved screen. Here I
was introduced to the Japanese lady teacher and served with tea. She
spoke no English and but little Chinese, and the embarrassment of our
effort to converse was only relieved by the ringing of the bell for
school. The pupils, consisting of the secondary wives and daughters of
the Prince, his son's wife, and the wives and daughters of his dead
brother who make their home with him, entered in an orderly way and
took their seats. When the teacher came into the room the ladies all
arose and remained standing until she took her place before her desk
and made a low bow to which they all responded in unison. This is the
custom in all of the schools I have visited. Even where the
superintendent is Chinese, the pupils stand and make a low Japanese bow
at the beginning and close of each recitation.
"How long has the school been in session?" I asked the Princess.
"Three and a half months," she replied.
"And they have done all this embroidery and painting in that time?"
"They have, and in addition have pursued their Western studies," she
explained.
In arithmetic the teacher placed the examples on the board, the pupils
worked them on their slates, after which each was called upon for an
explanation, which she gave in Japanese. While this class was reciting
the Prince came in and asked if we might not have calisthenics,
evidently thinking that I would enjoy the drill more than the
mathematics. It was interesting to see those Manchu ladies stand and go
through a thorough physical drill to the tune of a lively march on a
foreign organ. The Japanese are masters in matters of physical drill,
and in the schools I have visited I have been pleased at the quiet
dignity, and the reserve force and sweetness of their Japanese
teachers. The precision and unanimity with which orders were executed
both surprised and delighted me. Everything about these schools was
good except the singing, which was excruciatingly poor. The Chinese
have naturally clear, sweet voices, with a tendency to a minor tone,
which, with proper training, admit of fair development. But the
Japanese teacher dragged and sang in a nasal tone, in which the pupils
followed her, evidently thinking it was proper Western music. I was
rather amused to see the younger pupils go through a dignified dance or
march to the familiar strains of "Shall we gather at the river," which
the eldest daughter played on the organ.
"The young ladies do not comb their hair in the regular Manchu style,"
I observed to the Princess.
"No," she answered, "we do not think that best. It is not very
convenient, and so we have them dress it in the small coil on top of
the head as you see. Neither do we allow them to wear flowers in their
hair, nor to paint or powder, or wear shoes with centre elevations on
the soles. We try to give them the greatest possible convenience and
comfort."
They were proud of their bits of crocheting and embroidery, each of
which was marked with the name of the person who did it and the date
when it was completed. Many of them were made of pretty silk thread in
a very intricate pattern, though I admired their drawing and painting
still more.
"Of what does their course of study consist?" I asked the Princess.
She went to the wall and took down a neat gilt frame which contained
their curriculum, and which she asked her eldest daughter to copy for
me. They had five studies each day, six days of the week, Sunday being
a holiday. They began with arithmetic, followed it up with Japanese
language, needlework, music and calisthenics, then took Chinese
language, drawing, and Chinese history with the writing of the
ideographs of their own language, which was one of the most difficult
tasks they had to perform. The dignified way in which the pupils
conducted themselves, the respect which they showed their teacher, and
the way in which they went about their work, delighted me. The
discipline it gave them, the self-respect it engendered, and the power
of acquisition that came with it were worth more perhaps than the
knowledge they acquired, useful as that information must have been.
The Princess Ka-la-chin, the fifth sister of Prince Su, is married to
the Mongolian Prince Ka-la. It is a rule among the Manchus that no
prince can marry a princess of their own people, but like the Emperor
himself, must seek their wives from among the untitled. These ladies
after their marriage are raised to the rank of their husbands. It is
the same with the daughters of a prince. Their husbands must come from
among the people, but unlike the princes they cannot raise them to
their own rank, and so their children have no place in the imperial
clan. Many of the princesses therefore prefer to marry Mongolian
princes, by which they retain their rank as well as that of their
children.
Naturally a marriage of this kind brings changes into the life of the
princess. She has been brought up in a palace in the capital, lives on
Chinese food, and is not inured to hardships. When she marries a Mongol
prince, she is taken to the Mongolian plains, is not infrequently
compelled to live in a tent, and her food consists largely of milk,
butter, cheese and meat, most of which are an abomination to the
Chinese. They especially loathe butter and cheese, and not infrequently
speak of the foreigner smelling like the Mongol--an odour which they
say is the result of these two articles of diet.
Prince Su's fifth sister was fortunate in being married to a Mongol
prince who was not a nomad. He had established a sort of village
capital of his possessions, the chief feature of which was his own
palace. Here he lives during the summers and part of the winters;
though once in three years he is compelled to spend at least three
months in his palace in Peking when he comes to do homage to the
Emperor.
During one of these visits to Peking the Princess sent for me to come
to her palace. I naturally supposed she was ill, and so took with me my
medical outfit, but her first greeting was:
"I am not ill, nor is any member of my family, but I wanted to see you
to have a talk with you about foreign countries."
She had prepared elaborate refreshments, and while we sat eating, she
directed the conversation towards mines and mining, and then said:
"My husband, the Prince, is very much interested in this subject, and
believes that there are rich stores of ore on his principality in
Mongolia."
"Indeed, that is very interesting," I answered.
"You know, of course, it is a rule," she went on to say, "that no
prince of the realm is allowed to go more than a few miles from the
capital without special permission from the throne."
"No, I was not aware of that fact."
She then went on to say that her husband was anxious to attend the St.
Louis Exposition, and study this subject in America, but so long as
these hindrances remained it was impossible for him to do so. She then
said:
"I am very much interested in the educational system of your honourable
country, and especially in your method of conducting girls' schools."
"Would you not like to come and visit our girls' high school?" I asked.
"I should be delighted," she replied.
This she did, and before leaving the capital she sent for a Japanese
lady teacher whom she took with her to her Mongolian home, where she
established a school for Mongolian girls.
In this school she had a regular system of rules, which did not tally
with the undisciplined methods of the Mongolians, and it was amusing to
hear her tell how it was often necessary for the Prince to go about in
the morning and wake up the girls in order to get them into school at
nine o'clock.
The next time she came to Peking she brought with her seventeen of her
brightest girls to see the sights of the city and visit some of the
girls' schools, both Christian and non-Christian. Everything was new to
them and it was interesting to hear their remarks as I showed them
through our home and our high school. When the Princess returned to
Mongolia she took with her a cultured young Chinese lady of unusual
literary attainments to teach the Chinese classics in the school. This
is the only school I have known that was established by a Manchu
princess, for Mongolian girls, and taught by Chinese and Japanese
teachers. This young lady was the daughter of the president of the
Board of Rites, head examiner for literary degrees for all China, and
was himself a chuang yuan, or graduate of the highest standing. Before
going, this Chinese teacher had small bound feet, but she had not been
long on the plains before she unbound her feet, dressed herself in
suitable clothing, and went with the Princess and the Japanese teacher
for a horseback ride across the plains in the early morning, a thing
which a Chinese lady, under ordinary circumstances, is never known to
do. The school is still growing in size and usefulness.
Prince Su's third sister is married to a commoner, but as is usual with
these ladies who marry beneath their own rank, she retains her maiden
title of Third Princess, by which she is always addressed.
"How did you obtain your education?" I once asked her.
"During my childhood," she answered, "my mother was opposed to having
her daughters learn to read, but like most wealthy families, she had
old men come into the palace to read stories or recite poetry for our
entertainment. I not infrequently followed the old men out, bought the
books from which they read, and then bribed some of the eunuchs to
teach me to read them. In this way I obtained a fair knowledge of the
Chinese character."
She is as deeply interested in the new educational movement among girls
as is her sister. When this desire for Western education began, she
organized a school, in which she has eighty girls or more, taken from
various grades of society, whom she and some of her friends, in
addition to employing teachers and providing the school-rooms, gave a
good part of their time to teaching the Chinese classics, while a
Japanese lady taught them calisthenics and the rudiments of Western
mathematics.
She is aggressively pro-foreign, and is ready to do anything that will
contribute to the success of the new educational movement, and the
freedom of the Chinese woman. On one occasion when the Chinese in
Peking undertook to raise a fund for famine relief, they called a large
public meeting to which men and women were alike invited, the first
meeting of the kind ever held in Peking. Such a gathering could not
have occurred before the Boxer rebellion. The Third Princess, having
promised to help provide the programme, took a number of her girls, and
on a large rostrum, had them go through their calisthenic exercises for
the entertainment of the audience. On another occasion she took all her
girls to a private box at a Chinese circus, where men and women
acrobats and horseback riders performed in a ring not unlike that of
our own circus riders. In this circus small-footed women rode horseback
as well as the women in our own circus, and one woman with bound feet
lay down on her back, balanced a cart-wheel, weighing at least a
hundred pounds, on her feet, whirling it rapidly all the time, and then
after it stopped she continued to hold it while two women and a child
climbed on top. The Princess was determined to allow her girls to have
all the advantages the city afforded.