Court Life in China, Isaac Taylor Headland [an ebook reader .txt] 📗

the gods that the drought is all his doing, and to pray for forgiveness, and for rain to enrich the thirsty land. The towers on the corners of the wall of the Forbidden City are the same style of architecture as the small pavilion in the front court of this temple.

Now as the buds of spring are bursting and the eaves on the mulberry-trees are beginning to develop, will you go with the Empress Dowager or the Empress into a temple on Prospect Hill, between the Coal Hill and the Lotus Lake, where she offers sacrifices to the god of the silkworm and prays for a prosperous year on the work of that little insect? Above it stands one of the most hideous bronze deities I have ever seen—male and naked—in a beautiful little shrine, every tile of which is made in the form of a Buddha’s head. During the occupation tourists were allowed to visit this place freely, and their desire for curios overcoming their discretion, they knocked the heads off these tiles until, when the place was closed, there was not a single tile which had not been defaced.

One other building in the Forbidden City is worthy of our attention. It is the art gallery. It is not generally known that China is the parent of all Oriental art. We know something of the art of Japan but little about that of China. And yet the best Japanese artists have never hoped for anything better than to equal their Chinese teacher. In this art gallery there are stored away the finest specimens of the old masters for ten centuries or more, together with portraits of all the noted emperors. Among these portraits we may now find two of the Empress Dowager, one painted by Miss Carl, and another by Mr. Vos, a well-known American portrait painter.

XIII

The Ladies of the Court

I love to talk with my people of their Majesties, the princesses, and the Chinese ladies, as I have seen and known them. Your friendship I will always remember. Her Majesty, your imperial sister, found a warm place in my heart and is treasured there. Please extend to the Imperial Princess my cordial greetings and to the other princesses my best of good wishes. —Mrs. E. H. Conger, in a letter to the Princess Shun.

XIII THE LADIES OF THE COURT

The leading figure of the court is Yehonala, wife of the late Emperor Kuang Hsu. She has always been called the Young Empress, but is now the Empress Dowager. After the great Dowager was made the concubine of Hsien Feng, she succeeded in arranging a marriage, as we have seen, between her younger sister and the younger brother of her husband, the Seventh Prince, as he was called, father of Kuang Hsu and the present regent.

The world knows how, in order to keep the succession in her own family, she took the son of this younger sister, when her own son the Emperor Tung Chih died, and made him the Emperor Kuang Hsu when he was but little more than three years of age. When the time came for him to wed, she arranged that he should marry his cousin, Yehonala, the daughter of her favourite brother, Duke Kuei. This Kuang Hsu was not inclined to do, as his affections seem to have been centred on another. The great Dowager, however, insisted upon it, and he finally made her Empress, and to satisfy,—or shall we say appease him?—she allowed him to take as his first concubine the lady he wanted as his wife; and it was currently reported in court circles that when Yehonala came into his presence he not infrequently kicked off his shoe at her, a bit of conduct that is quite in keeping with the temper usually attributed to Kuang Hsu during those early years. This may perhaps explain why she stood by the great Dowager through all the troublous times of 1898 and 1900, in spite of the fact that her imperial aunt had taken her husband’s throne.

Mrs. Headland tells me that “Yehonala is not at all beautiful, though 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