Chapter 2

My Lady of the Chinese Courtyard by Elizabeth Cooper.***Etext Dedicated to Marion by "Teary Eyes" Anderson.***Transcriber's Note:***I try to edit my etexts so they can easily be used with voicespeech programs, I believe blind people, and children should alsobe able to enjoy the many books now available electronically. Iuse the -- for a em-dash, with a space, either before or afterit depending on it's usage. This helps to keep certain programsfrom squishing the words together, such as down-stairs. Also tohelp voice speech programs I've enclosed upper case textbetween - and _ (-UPPER CASE TEXT_). This etext was made with a"Top can" text scanner, with a bit of correcting here and there.***One does not think of it as a thing of brick and mortar, but as a casket whose jewels are the prayers of waiting, hoping women, Frontispiece.My Lady of the Chinese Courtyard by Elizabeth Cooper.Author of "Sayonara," etc.-With Thirty-One Illustrations In Duotone From Photographs_.-To My Husband_."What I doAnd what I dream include thee, as the wineMust taste of its own grapes"-Elizabeth Barrett Browning_-Author's Note_.In these letters I have drawn quite freely and sometimes literally fromthe excellent and authoritative translations of Chinese classics byProfessor Giles in his "Chinese Literature" and from "The Lute ofJude" and "The Mastersingers of Japan," two books in the "Wisdom ofthe East" series edited by L. Cranmer-Byng and S. A. Kapadia (E. P.Dutton and Company). These translators have loved the songs of theancient poets of China and Japan and caught with sympatheticappreciation, in their translations, the spirit of the East.I wish to thank them for their help in making it possible to render intoEnglish the imagery and poetry used by "My Lady of the ChineseCourtyard."Acknowledgment is also made to Mr. Donald Mennie of Shanghai,China, who took most of the photographs from which the illustrationshave been made.-Elizabeth Cooper_.-Part 1_.-Preface_.A writer on things Chinese was asked why one found so little writingupon the subject of the women of China. He stopped, looked puzzledfor a moment, then said, "The woman of China! One never hears aboutthem. I believe no one ever thinks about them, except perhaps thatthey are the mothers of the Chinese men!"Such is the usual attitude taken in regard to the woman of the floweryRepublic. She is practically unknown, she hides herself behind herhusband and her sons, yet, because of that filial piety, that almostreligious veneration in which all men of Eastern races hold theirparents, she really exerts an untold influence upon the deeds of themen of her race.Less is known about Chinese women than about any other women ofOriental lands. Their home life is a sealed book to the average personvisiting China. Books about China deal mainly with the lower-classChinese, as it is chiefly with that class that the average visitor ormissionary comes into contact. The tourists see only the cooliewoman bearing burdens in the street, trotting along with a couple ofheavy baskets swung from her shoulders, or they stop to stare at theneatly dressed mothers sitting on their low stools in the narrowalleyways, patching clothing or fondling their children. They see andhear the boat-women, the women who have the most freedom of anyin all China, as they weave their sampans in and out of the crowdedtraffic on the canals. These same tourists visit the tea-houses andsee the gaily dressed "sing-song" girls, or catch a glimpse of agaudily painted face, as a lady is hurried along in her sedan-chair,carried on the shoulders of her chanting bearers. But the real Chinesewoman, with her hopes, her fears, her romances, her children, and herreligion, is still undiscovered.I hope that this book, based on letters shown me many years afterthey were written, will give a faint idea of the life of a Chinese lady.The story is told in two series of letters conceived to be written byKwei-li, the wife of a very high Chinese official, to her husband whenhe accompanied his master, Prince Chung, on his trip around theworld.She was the daughter of a viceroy of Chih-li, a man most advanced forhis time, who was one of the forerunners of the present educationalmovement in China, a movement which has caused her youth to riseand demand Western methods and Western enterprise in place of theobsolete traditions and customs of their ancestors. To show his beliefin the new spirit that was breaking over his country, he educated hisdaughter along with his sons. She was given as tutor Ling-Wing-pu, afamous poet of his province, who doubtless taught her the imageryand beauty of expression which is so truly Eastern.Within the beautiful ancestral home of her husband, high on themountains-side outside of the city of Su-Chau, she lived the quite,sequestered life of the high-class Chinese woman, attending to thehousehold duties, which are not light in these patriarchal homes,where an incredible number of people live under the same rooftree.The sons bring their wives to their father's house instead ofestablishing separate homes for themselves, and they are all underthe watchful eye of the mother, who can make a veritable prison or apalace for her daughters-in-law. In China the mother reigns supreme.The mother-in-law of Kwei-li was an old-time conservative Chineselady, the woman who cannot adapt herself to the changing conditions,who resents change of methods, new interpretations and freshexpressions of life. She sees in the new ideas that her sons bringfrom the foreign schools disturbers only of her life's ideals. Sheinstinctively feels that they are gathering about her retreat, beating ather doors, creeping in at her closely shuttered windows, even winningher sons from her arms. She stands an implacable foe of progressand she will not admit that the world is moving on, broadening itsoutlook and clothing itself in a new expression. She feels that she isbeing left behind with her dead gods, and she cries out against thechange which is surely but slowly coming to China, and especially toChinese women, with the advent of education and the knowledge ofthe outside world.In a household in China a daughter-in-law is of very little importanceuntil she is the mother of a son. Then, from being practically a servantof her husband's mother, she rises to place of equality and is lookedupon with respect. She has fulfilled her once great duty, the thing forwhich she was created: she has given her husband a son to worshipat his grave and at the graves of his ancestors. The great prayer whichrises from the heart of all Chinese women, rich and poor, peasant andprincess, is to Kwan-yin, for the inestimable blessing of sons. "Sons!Give me sons!" is heard in every temple. To be childless is thegreatest sorrow that can come to Chinese women, as she fullyrealizes that for this cause her husband is justified in putting her awayfor another wife, and she may not complain or cry out, except insecret, to her Goddess of Mercy, who has not answered her prayers.Understanding this, we can dimly realise the joy of Kwei-li upon thebirth of her son, and her despair upon his death.At this time, when she was in very depths of despondency, when shehad turned from the gods of her people, when it was feared that hersorrow, near to madness, she would take the little round ball ofsleep-- opium-- that was brought rest to so many despairing women inChina, her servants brought her the Gospel of St. John, which theybought of an itinerant colporteur in the market-place, hoping that itmight interest her. In the long nights when sleep would not come toher, she read it-- and found the peace she sought.1My Dear One,The house on the mountain-top has lost its soul. It is nothing but apalace with empty windows. I go upon the terrace and look over thevalley where the sun sinks a golden red ball, casting long purpleshadows on the plain. Then I remember that thou art not coming fromthe city to me, and I stay to myself that there can be no dawn that Icare to see, and no sunset to gladden my eyes, unless I share it withthee.The house on the mountain-top.But do not think I am unhappy. I do everything the same as if thouwert here, and in everything I say, "Would this please my master?"Meh-ki wished to put thy long chair away, as she said it was too big;but I did not permit. It must rest where I can look at it and imagine Isee thee lying it, smoking thy water pipe; and the small table isalways near by, where thou canst reach out thy hand for thy papersand the drink thou lovest. Meh-ki also brought out the dwarf pine-treeand put it on the terrace, but I remembered thou saidst it looked likean old man who had been beaten in his childhood, and I gave it to herfor one of the inner courtyards. She thinks it very beautiful, and so Idid once; but I have learned to see with thine eyes, and I know nowthat a tree made straight and beautiful and tall by the Gods is more tobe regarded than one that has been bent and twisted by man.Such a long letter I am writing thee. I am so glad that though madestme promise to write thee every seventh day, and to tell thee all thatpasses within my household and my heart. Thine Honourable Mothersays it is not seemly to send communication from mine hand to thine.She says it was a thing unheard of in her girlhood, and that weyounger generations have passed the limits of all modesty andwomanliness. She wishes me to have the writer or thy brother sendthee the news of thine household; but that I will not permit. It mustcome from me, thy wife. Each one of these strokes will come to theebearing my message. Thou wilt not tear the covering roughly as thoudidst those great official letters; nor wilt thou crush the papers quicklyin thy hand, because it is the written word of Kwei-li, who sends witheach stroke of brush a part of her heart.2My Dear One,My first letter to thee was full of sadness and longing because thouwert newly gone from me. Now a week has passed, the sadness isstill in my heart, but it is buried deep for only me to know. I have myduties which must be done, my daily tasks that only I can do sincethine Honourable Mother has handed me the keys of the rice-bin. Irealise the great honour she does me, and that at last she trusts meand believes me no child as she did when I first entered herhousehold.Can I ever forget that day when I came to my husband's people? I hadthe one great consolation of a bride, my parents had not sent meaway empty-handed. The procession was almost aliin length and Iwatched with a swelling heart the many tens of coolies carrying myhousehold goods. There were the silken coverlets for the beds, andthey were folded to show their richness and carried on red lacqueredtables of great value. There were the household utensils of manykinds, the vegetable dishes, the baskets, the camphor-wood basketscontaining my clothing, tens upon tens of them; and I said within myheart as they passed me by, "Enter my new home before me. Helpme find a loving welcome." Then at the end of the chanting processionI came in my red chair of marriage, so closely covered I could barelybreathe. My trembling feet could scarce support me as they helpedme from the chair, and my hand shook with fear as I was being ledinto my new household. She stood bravely before you, that little girldressed in red and gold, her hair twined with pearls and jade, herarms tiny finger, but with all her bravery she wasfrightened-- frightened. She was away from her parents for the firsttime, away from all who love her, and she knew if she did not meetwith approval in her new home her rice-bowl would be full of bitternessfor many moons to come.After the obeisance to the ancestral tablet and we had fallen upon ourknees before thine Honourable Parent, I then saw for the first time theface of my husband. Dost thou remember when first thou raised myveil and looked long into my eyes? I was thinking, "Will he find mebeautiful?" and in fear I could look but for a moment, then my eyes felland I would not raise then to thine again. But in that moment I sawthat thou wert tall and beautiful, that thine eyes were truly almond,that thy skin was clear and thy teeth like pearls. I was secretly gladwithin my heart, because I have known of brides who, when they sawtheir husbands for the first time, wished to scream in terror, as theywere old or ugly. I thought to myself that I could be happy with thistall, strong young man if I found favour in his sight, and I said a littleprayer to Kwan-yin. Because she has answered that prayer, each dayI place a candle at her feet to show my gratitude.I think thine Honourable Mother has passed me the keys of thehousehold to take my mind from my loss. She says a heart that isbusy cannot mourn, and my days are full of duties. I arise in themorning early, and after seeing that my hair is tidy, I take a cup of teato the Aged One and make my obeisance; then I place the rice andwater in their dishes before the God of the Kitchen, and light a tinystick of incense for his altar, so that our day may begin auspiciously.After the morning meal I consult with the cook and steward. Thevegetables must be regarded carefully and the fish inspected, and Imust ask the price that has been paid, because often a hireling ishurried and forgets that a bargain is not made with a breath.I carry the great keys and feel much pride when I open the door of thestoreroom. Why, I do not know, unless it is because of the realisationthat I am the head of this large household. If the servants or theirchildren are ill, they come to me instead of to thine HonourableMother, as they be too rare or heavy for one of my mind andexperience.Then I go with the gardener to the terrace and help him arrange theflowers for the day. I love the stone-flagged terrace, with its low marblebalustrade, resting close against the mountain to which it seems tocling.I always stop a moment and look over the valley, because it was fromhere I watched thee when thou went to the city in the morning, andhere I waited thy return. Because of my love for it and the rope ofremembrance with which it binds me, I keep it beautiful with rugs andflowers.It speaks to me of happiness and brings back memories of summerdays spent idling in a quite so still that we could hear the rustle of thebamboo grasses on the hillside down below; or, still more dear, theevenings passed close by thy side, watching the brightened into jadeeach door and archway as it passed.I long for thee, I love thee, I am thine.Thy Wife.3My Dear One,The hours of one day are as like each other as are twin blossomsfrom the pear-tree. There is no news to tell thee. The mornings arepassed in the duties that come to all women who have the care of ahousehold, and the afternoons I am on the terrace with thy sister. Butfirst of all, thine August Mother must be made comfortable for hersleep, and then the peace indeed is wonderful.Mah-li and I take our embroidery and sit upon the terrace, where wepass long hours watching the people in the valley below. The faintblue smoke curls from a thousand dwellings, and we try to imaginethe lives of those who dwell beneath the rooftrees. We see thepeasants in their rice-fields; watch them dragging the rich mud fromthe bottoms of the canal for fertilizing; hear the shrill whistle of theduck man as, with long bamboo, he drives the great flock of duckshomeward or sends them over the fields to search for insects. We seethe wedding procession far below, and can but faintly follow the greatcovered chair of the bride and the train of servants carrying thepossessions to the new home. Often the wailing of the mourners in afuneral comes to our ears, and we lean far over the balcony to watchthe coolie scatter the spirit money that will pay the dead man's way toland of the Gods. But yesterday we saw the procession carrying themerchant Wong to his resting-place ofsyceespent upon his funeral.Thy brothers tell me his sons made great boast that no man has beenburied with such pomp in all the province. But it only brings moreclearly the remembrance that he began this life a sampan coolie andended it with many millions. But his millions did not bring himhappiness. He laboured without ceasing, and then without living toenjoy the fruit, worn out, departed, one knows not whither.Watch them dragging the rich mud from the bottoms of the canal for fertilizing.Hear the shrill whistle of the duck man.Yesterday we heard the clang-clang of a gong and saw theTaotaipass by, his men carrying the boards and banners with his officialrank and virtues written upon them, and we counted the red umbrellasand wondered if some poor peasant was in deep trouble.It is beautiful here now. The hillside is purple with the autumn bloomand air is filled with a golden haze. The red leaves drift slowly downthe canal and tell me that soon the winter winds will come. Outsidethe walls the insects sing sleepily in grass, seeming to know thattheir brief life is nearly spent. The wild geese on their southward flightcarry my thoughts to thee. All is sad, and sad as the clouded moonmy longing face, and my eyes are filled with tears. Not at twilight norat grey of dawn can I find happiness without thee, my lord, mine own,and "endless are the days as trailing creepers."Thy Wife.4My Dear One,I have much to tell thee. My last letter was unhappy, and these littleslips of paper must bring to thee joy, not sorrow, else why the writtenword?First, I must tell thee that thy brother Chih-peh will soon be married.Thou knowest he has long been betrothed to Li-ti, the daughter of theGovernor of Chih-li, and soon the bride will be here. We have beenarranging her apartments. We do not know how many home servantsshe will bring, and we are praying the Gods to grant her discretion,because with servants from a different province there are sure to bejealousies and the retailing of small tales that disturb the harmony ofa household.Many tales have been brought us of her great beauty, and we hearshe has much education. Thine August Mother is much disturbed overthe latter, as she says, and justly too, that over-learning is not goodfor women. It is not meet to give them books in which to store theirembroidery silks. But I-- I am secretly delighted, and Mah-li, thysister, is transported with joy. I think within our hearts, although wewould not even whisper it to the night wind, we are glad that there willbe three instead of two to bear the burden of the discourses of thineHonourable Mother. Not that she talks too much, thou understandest,nor that her speech is not stored full of wisdom, but-- she talks-- andwe must listen.We have other news. A new slave-girl has come into our household.As thou knowest, there has been a great famine to the north of us,and the boats, who follow all disaster, have been anchored in ourcanal. I do not know why August One desired to add one more to takeof rice beneath our rooftree; but she is here. She was brought beforeme, a little peasant girl, dressed in faded blue trousers and a jacketthat had been many times to the washing pool. Her black hair wascoiled in the girlhood knot at the side of the head, and in it she hadstuck a pumpkin blossom. She was such a pretty little country flower,and looked so helpless, I drew her to me and questioned her. She toldme there were many within their compound wall: grandmother, father,mother, brothers, sisters, uncles and cousins. The rice was gone, theheavy clothing and all of value in the pawn-shop. Death was all aroundthem, and they watched each day as he drew nearer-- nearer. Thencame the buyers of girls. They had money that would buy rice for thewinter and mean life to all. But the mother would not listen. She wastold over and over that the price of one would save the many. Hernights were spent in weeping and her days in fearful watching. At last,worn out, despairing, she went to a far-off temple to ask Kwan-yin, theMother of Mercies, for help in her great trouble. While she was gone,Ho-tai was taken to the women in the boat at the water-gate, andmany pieces of silver were paid the father. When the stomach isempty, pride is not strong, and there were many small bodies cryingfor rice that could only be bought with the sacrifice of one. That night,as they started down the canal, they saw on the tow-path a peasantwomen, her dress open far below her throat, her hair loose and flying,her eyes swollen and dry from over-weeping, moaning pitifully,stumbling on in the darkness, searching for the boat that had beenanchored at the water-gate; but it was gone. Poor little Ho-tai! Shesaid, "It was my mother!" and as she told me, he face was wet withbitter rain. I soothed her and told her we would make her happy, and Imade a little vow in my heart that I would find that mother and bringpeace to her heart again.The summer wanes and autumn is upon us with all its mists andshadows of purple and grey. The camphor-trees look from thedistance like great balls of fire, and the eucalyptus-tree, in its dress ofbrilliant yellow, is a gaily painted court lady. If one short glimpse ofthee my heart could gladden, then all my soul would be filled with thebeauty of this time, these days of red and gold. But now I seek theethe long night through, and turn to make my arm thy pillow-- but thouart gone.I am thy wife who longs for thee.5My Dear One,We have a daughter-in-law. Not only have we a daughter-in-law, butwe have servants and household furnishings and clothing-- andclothing-- and clothing. I am sure that if her gowns could be laid sideby side, they would reach around the world. She is as fair as thespring blossoms, and of as little use. An army encamped upon uscould not have so upset our household as the advent of this onemaiden. She brought with her rugs to cover the floors, embroideriesand hangings for the walls, scrolls and saying of Confucius andMencius to hang over the seats of honour-- to show us that she is anadmirer of the classics-- screens for the doorways, even a huge bedall carved and gilded and with hangings and tassels of gay silk.Thine Honourable Mother, after viewing the goods piled in thecourtyards, called her bearers and told us she was taking tea with afriend in the village of Sung-dong. I think she chose this friendbecause she lives the farthest from our compound walls. I alone wasleft to direct the placing of this furniture. Li-ti was like a butterfly,flitting hither and thither, doing nothing, talking much. The bed mustbe so placed that the Spirits of Evil passing over it in the night-timecould not take the souls of sleepers away with them. The screensmust stand at the proper angle guarding the doorways from the spiritswho, in their straight, swift flight through the air, fall against thesescreens instead of entering the house. She gravely explained to methat the souls who dwell in darkness like to take up their abode innewly organised households, and many precautions must be madeagainst them. She even seriously considered the roof, to see if all thepoints curved upward, so that the spirits lighting upon them be carriedhigh above the open courtyards. I do not know what would havehappened to thine ancestral rooftree if it had not met with herapproval. I was many heartfuls glad that thine August Mother wastaking tea in a far-off village, as Li-ti even wanted to install a new Godin the kitchen. This I would not permit. Canst thou imagine thyMother's face if a God from a stranger family was in the niche abovethe stove? Happily all was over when thine Honourable Motherreturned. She is not pleased with this, her newest, daughter-in-law,and she talks-- and talks-- and talks. She says the days will passmost slowly until she sees the father of Li-ti. She yearns to tell himthat a man knows how to spend a million pieces of money in marryingoff his daughter, but knows not how to spend a hundred thousand inbringing up his child. If this great Governor of Chih-li has muchwisdom, he will stay long within his province. I have just heard for thehundredth time the saying of Confucius, "Birth is not a beginning, noris death an end." In my despair I said deep down within my breast, "Iam sure it will not be an end for thee, O Mother-in-law. Thou wilt go tothe River of Souls talking, talking, always talking-- but the Gods willbe good to me. Thou must pass before me, and I will not hasten so asto overtake thee on the way." I beg thy pardon, dear one. I lackrespect to thy Most Honourable Parent, but my soul is sore tried and Ican find no quite.I am,Thy Wife.6My Dear One,"The five worst infirmities that afflict the female are indocility,discontent, slander, jealousy, and silliness. The worst of them all, andthe parent of the other four, is silliness. "Does that not sound familiarto thine ears? Life is serious here in thine ancestral home since wehave taken to ourselves a daughter-in-law. The written word for troubleis two women beneath one rooftree, and I greatly fear that the wiseman who invented writing had knowledge that cost him dear. Perhapshe, too, had a daughter-in-law.Yet, with it all, Li-ti is such a child. Ah, I see thee smile. Thou sayestshe is only three years less in age than I; yet, thou seest, I have hadthe honour of living a year by the side of thy Most August Mother andhave acquired much knowledge from the very fountain-head ofwisdom. Perchance Li-ti also will become a sage, if-- she be notgathered to her ancestors before her allotted time, which dependsupon the strength of body and mind which they may have willed her.To me she is the light of this old palace. She is the true spirit oflaughter, and, "When the happy laugh, the Gods rejoice." She iscontinually in disgrace with thine Honourable Mother, and now theElder One has decided that both she and Mah-li, thy sister, shalllearn a text from the sage Confucius each day for penance. They arenow in the inner courtyard, studying the six shadows which attend thesix virtues. I can hear them saying over and over to each other, "Loveof goodness without the will to learn casts the shadow calledfoolishness--" now a laugh-- then again they begin, "Love ofknowledge without the will to learn casts the shadow calledinstability--" giggle and much talking. I am afraid they will never arriveat the shadow cast the love of truth, and after I have written thee I willgo in and help them, that they may not be reprimanded.Li-ti takes her duties now most seriously, these same dutiesconsisting of dressing for the day. In the morning she seats herselfbefore her mirror, and two maids attend her, one to hold the greatbrass bowl of water, the other to hand her the implements of her toilet.While the face is warm she covers it with honey mixed with perfume,and applies the rice-powder until her face is as white as the rice itself.Then the cheeks are rouged, the touch of red is placed upon the lowerlip, the eyebrows are shaped like the true willow leaf, and the hair isdressed. Her hair is wonderful (but I say within, my hearty not so longor so thick as mine), and she adorn it with many jewels of jade andpearls. Over her soft clothing of fine linen she draws the richembroidered robes of silk and satin. Then her jewels, earrings, beads,bracelets, rings, the tiny mirror in the embroidered case, the bag withits rouge and powder fastened to her side by long red tassels. Whenall things are in place, she rises a being glorified, a thing of beautyfrom her glossy hair to the toe of her tiny embroidered shoe. I watchher with a little envy, because when thou wast here I did the same.Now that my husband is away, it is not meet that I make myself tooseemly for other eyes. The rouge brush and the powder have not beennear my face, and I have searched my clothing chests to find gownsfitting for a woman who is alone.Thy Mother says poor Li-ti is o'ervain, and repeats to her the saying,"More precious in a woman is a virtuous heart than a face of beauty."But I say she is our butterfly, she brings the joys of summer. Onemust not expect a lace kerchief to hold tears, and she fulfills herwoman's destiny. Chih-peh, thy brother, is inexpressibly happy. Headores his pretty blossom. He follows her with eyes worship, andwhen she is in disgrace with thine August Mother, he is desolate.When needs be she is sent to her apartment, he wanders round andround the courtyards until the Honourable One has retired from sight,then he hurriedly goes to his beloved. Soon I hear them laughinggaily, and know the storm is over.The rains have come and we cannot pass long days upon the terrace.The whole valley is shrouded in grey mists and the peasants havegone from the fields. The path down the mountain-side is empty,except for the men with the great umbrella hats and capes of straw,bringing the vegetables to the monastery below. The old abbot of themonastery is in great trouble. Some men have come and wish toerect long poles with wires on them. It is feared it will interrupt thefeng-shuiof the temple, the good spirits of the air cannot pass, andwill rest upon these ugly poles instead of coming to the templerooftree. The abbot has wailed and gone to the magistrate; but he willnot interfere, as the men have many tens of thousands ofsyceeandquite likely will work their will.The path down the mountain-side is empty, except for the men with the great umbrella hats and capes of straw, bringing the vegetables to the monastery below.Such foolish letters as I write thee! They are filled with the little lifethat passes within the women's courtyard. It is all the life I know. Myworld is bounded by these walls, and I ask no more.I am thy loving wife.7My Dear One,All thy women-folk have been shopping! A most unheard-of event forus. We have Li-ti to thank for this great pleasure, because, but for her,the merchants would have brought their goods to the courtyard for usto make our choice. Li-ti would not hear of that; she wanted to see thecity, and she wanted to finger the pretty goods within the shops. Sheknew exactly what she wished, and life was made uncomfortable forus all until thy Mother ordered the chairs and we went into the city.We were a long procession. First, the August One with her four-bearerchair; then your most humble wife, who has only two bearers-- as yet;then Li-ti; and after her Mah-li, followed by the chairs of the servantswho came to carry back our purchases.It was most exciting for us all, as we go rarely within the city gate. Itwas market day and the streets were made more narrow by thebaskets of fish and vegetables which lined the way. The flat stones ofthe pavements were slippery and it seemed our bearers could not finda way amongst the crowd of riders on horses and small donkeys, thecoolies with their buckets of hot water swinging from their shoulders,the sweetmeat sellers, the men with bundles, and the women withsmall baskets. They all stepped to one side at the sound of theAh-yoof our leader, except a band of coolies carrying the monstrous trunk ofa pine-tree, chanting as they swung the mast between them, andkeeping step with the chant. It seemed a solemn dirge, as if somegreat were being carried to the resting-place of the dead.We rarely go within the city gate.But sadness could not come to us when shopping, and our eagereyes looked long at the signs above the open shopways. There werelong black signs of lacquer with letters of raised gold, or red ones withthe characters carved and gilded. Above a shoe-shop was a made forthe King of the Mountains, in front of a pipe-shop was a water pipe fitfor his mate. From the fan-shop hung delicate, gilded fans; andframing the silk-shop windows gaily coloured silk was draped in richfestoons that nearly swept the pathway.We bought silks and satins and gay brocades, we chatted and webargained and we shopped. We handled jade and pearls andornaments of twisted gold, and we priced amulets and incense potsand gods. We filled our eyes with luxury and ouramahs'chairs withpackages, and returned home three happy, tired, hungry women,thinking with longing of the hissing tea-urn upon the charcoal brazier.That crowded, bustling, threatening city seems another world fromthis, our quiet, walled-in dwelling. I feel that here we are protected,cared for, guarded, and life's hurry and distress will only pass us by,not touch us. Yet-- we like to see it all, and know that we are part ofthat great wonder-thing, the world.I am thy happy, tired,Wife.8.My Dear One,I am carrying a burden for another that is causing me much sorrow.Dost thou remember Chen-peh, who is from my province and whomarried Ling Peh-yu about two moons after I came to thy household?She came to me yesterday in dire distress. She is being returned toher home by her husband's people, and, as thou knowest, if a womanis divorced shame covers her until her latest hour. I am inexpressiblysaddened, as I do not know what can be done. The trouble is with hismother and, I fear, her own pride of family. She cannot forget that shecomes from a great house, and she is filled with pride at therecollection of her home. I have told her that the father and mother ofone's husband should be honoured beyond her own. I can see thatshe has failed in respect; and thus she merits condemnation. Wehave all learned as babes that "respect" is the first word in the book ofwisdom. I know it is hard at times to still the tongue, but all paths thatlead to peace are hard.She will remain with me two nights. Last night she lay wide-eyed,staring into the darkness, with I know not what within her soul. Ibegged her to think wisely, to talk frankly with her husband and hismother, to whom she owes obedience. There should be no pridewhere love is. She must think upon the winter of her days, when shewill be alone without husband and without children, eating bitter rice ofcharity, though 'tis given by her people. I put her in remembrance ofthat saying of the poet:"Rudely torn may be a cotton mantle,yet a skillful hand may join it;Snapped may be the string where pearls are threaded,yet the thread all swiftly knotted;But a husband and his wife,once parted, never more may meet."I must not bring thee the sorrows of another. Oh, dear one, there willnever come 'twixt thee and me the least small river of distrust. I willbear to thee no double heart, and thou wilt cherish me and love mealways.Thy Wife.9My Dear One,I cannot wait until the seventh day to write thee again, as my letter tothee yestereve was full of sadness and longing. Now I have slept, andtroubles from a distance do not seem so grave.Thine Honourable Mother has chided me gravely, but to my mindunjustly, and, as thou knowest, I could not answer her words, thoughthey pierced me "like arrows from the strings of white-winged bows."Poor Li-ti is in trouble again, and this time she has brought it uponherself, yet she cannot he blamed. I as the head of the household, asthine Honourable Mother has told me, should have protected her. Itold thee that she brought servants from her old home, and amongstthem her childhood's nurse, who, I am sure, loves Li-ti dearly; but, asmany women who have little to occupy their hands, she loves to sit inthe women's courtyard and gossip. If it had stopped within theservants' courtyard all would have been well; but at the time of Li-ti'sdressing all the small goods she had gathered during the day wereemptied into the lap of Li-ti, who is too young to know that "as poisonthat reaches the blood spreads through the body, so does the love ofgossip spread through the soul of woman." I do not know how it cameabout, but comparisons were made between the households, that ofher home and that of her husband, and news was carried back to theservants' quarters until at last our household was in a state of unrestthat stopped all work and made living quite impossible.It seems small, but it is the retailing of little calumnies that disturbsthe harmony of kinsmen and ruins the peace of families. Finally Ifound it necessary to talk to Li-ti's nurse, and I told her many things itwere good for her to know. I warned her that if she did not wish torevisit her home province she must still her tongue. Things were betterfor a time, but they commenced again, and I called her to mycourtyard and said to her, "The sheaves of rice have been beatenacross the wood for the last time. You must go." Li-ti wasinconsolable, but I was firm. Such quarrels are not becoming when weare so many beneath one rooftree.The servant went away, but she claimed her servant's right of revilingus within our gate. She lay beneath our outer archway for three longhours and called down curses upon the Liu family. One could not getaway from the sound of the enumeration of the faults and vices of thyillustrious ancestors even behind closed doors. I did not know, myhusband, that history claimed so many men of action by the name ofLiu. It pleased me to think thou mayest claim so long a lineage, asshe went back to the dynasty of Ming and brought forth from his graveeach poor man and woman and told us of--nothis virtues. I shouldhave been more indignant, perhaps, if I had not heard o'ermuch thewonders of thy family tree. I was impressed by the amount ofknowledge acquired by the family of Li-ti. They must have searchedthe chronicles which evidently recorded only the unworthy acts of thymen-folk in the past. I hope that I will forget what I have heard, assome time when I am trying to escape from thine ancestors thetonguemightbecome unruly.At the end of three hours the woman was faint and very ill. I had oneof the servants take her down to the boat, and sent a man home withher, bearing a letter saying she was sickening for home faces. She isold, and I did not want her to end her days in disgrace and shame.But thine Honourable Mother! Thine Honourable Mother! Art thou notglad that thou art in a far-off country? She went from courtyard tocourtyard, and for a time I fully expected she would send to theYamenfor the soldiers; then she realised the woman was within herright, and so restrained her-self. It nearly caused her death, as thouknowest thine Honourable Mother has not long practised the virtue ofrestraint, especially of the tongue. She was finally overcome taken toher chamber, and we brought her tea and heated wine, and tried in allour ways to make her forget the great humiliation. As she became nobetter, we sent for the man of medicine from the Eastern Gate, and hewished to burn her shoulders with a heatedcashto remove the heatwithin her. To this she objected so strongly that he hastily gatheredhis utensils and departed looking fearfully over his shoulder from timeto time as he passed quickly down the hillside.Then I thought of her favourite priest from the monastery down below,and sent for him. He came with candle and incense and, Ithink, somerose wine for which the monastery is justly famous; and he chantedprayers, striking from time to time a little gong, until peace wasrestored and sleep came to her eyelids.He came with candle and incense.In the morning she wished to talk to Li-ti; but I feared for her, and Isaid, "You cannot speak of the ocean to a well-frog, nor sing of ice toa summer insect. She will not understand. She said Li-ti was withoutbrains, a senseless thing of paint and powder. I said, "We will formher, we will make of her a wise woman in good time. She replied withbitterness, "Rotten wood cannot be carved nor walls of dirt beplastered." I could not answer, but I sent Li-ti to pass the day withChih-peh at the Goldfish Temple, and when she returned the time wasnot so stormy.All this made me unhappy, and the cares of this great householdpressed heavily upon my shoulders. Please do not think the cares tooheavy, nor that I do not crave the work. I know all labour is done forthe sake of happiness, whether the happiness comes or no; and if Ifind not happiness, I find less time to dream and mourn and long forthee, my husband.Thy Wife.10My Dear One,We have been to a great festival at the Temple of the Goddess of aThousand Hands. Thine Honourable Mother decided that we should goby boat part of the way, so the chairs were told to meet us at theWestern Village Rest-house.We hired from the city one of those great pleasure-boats, but it wasnot too great for us all. There was the August One, and four of herfriends, then Li-ti, Mah-li and myself. We took the cook, the stewardand threeamahs, and it was indeed a time of feasting. It was the firsttime I had been upon the canal, and it was different from seeing itfrom the terrace. As we passed slowly along we could watch the lifeof the water people. On the banks were the great water-wheels turnedby the village buffalo. In the deserted districts women were gatheringreeds to make the sleeping mats and boat covers. The villages withtheir blue-grey houses and thatched roofs nestling among the grovesof bamboos looked like chicklets sheltering under the outstretchedwings of the mother hen.We pushed our way through the crowded water-ways of the cities,where we could catch glimpses of the guests in the tea-houses or thekeepers of the shops, or could watch the children leaning over thebalconies. On the steps between the houses which led to thewaterside women were washing clothes, or the dyers were cleansingthe extra dye from the blue cotton which clothes all China's poor. Wecaught small bits of gossip and heard the laughter of all these people,who seemed happy at their work.When we could again pass to the open canal we would watch theboats. I did not know there were so many boats in all the world. Theyfloated slowly past us-- big boats, little boats, those that went by sail,and those that went by oar. There were the boats of mandarins andmerchants, those for passengers, and great unwieldy boats for rice.We saw the fishing-boats with their hungry, fierce-eyed cormorantssitting quietly in their places, waiting for the master to send themdiving in the water for the fish they may not eat.The great unwieldy boats for rice.With fierce-eyed fishing cormorants.The canal was a great broad highway. Even the tow-paths had theirpatrons. Travellers on wheelbarrows, rich men in sedan-chairs,soldiers, coolies, chanting as they swung along with their burdensswinging from the bamboo on their shoulders, all going to or comingfrom the great city to which we drew nearer with each stroke.At the rest-house the bearers were awaiting us, and we were carriedup the long paved roadway to the temple. It seemed as if all the worldhad turned to praying-- all the women world, that is. They were here,rich and poor, peasant and official's wife, but in the temple all of asisterhood. We descended from our chairs in the courtyard and putour spirit money in the great burner, where it ascended in tiny flamesside by side with that of the beggar woman, to the great God in theHeavens. We entered the temple, placed our candles, and lighted ourincense. We made our obeisance to the Many-handed Goddess andasked her blessing on our household for the year to come. Then Iwent to the Mother of Mercies, Kwan-yin, and made my deepestreverence, because for her my heart is full of love and gratitude. Theother Gods I respect and make them all due worship, but, I feel theyare far away from me. Kwan-yin, is the woman's God, and I feel herlove for me. She shapes my way, and I know it is to her I owe it thatmy life flows on as a gentle stream, and I know that she cares for meand guards me now that thou art away and I have no one on whom tolean. When I go before her all fire of passion is extinguished in myheart, and my troubles and cares pass away and become small in thedistance, even as the light of the morning stars pales and wanes atthe coming of the sun. My heart is full of love for her, of a love that Icannot express. She has heard my prayers and answered them. Sheis my Kwan-yin,myMother of Mercy, and each day I do some littledeed for her, some little thing to show remembrance, so she will knowthe hours are not too full nor the days too short for me to place myoffering on an altar built of love.We put our money in the great burner.As we turned to leave the temple I glanced back at the great darkchamber and I saw the God of Light, the Buddha, sitting there socalm upon his throne, with the light of many candles before him andclouds of incense that floated to the roof. I thought, "He is all-powerful.I only prayed to him from out my lips, not with my heart. Perhaps--"So I returned. I prayed the mighty God with humble prayer to bring myloved one swiftly home to me; and then we left the temple. We walkedslowly through the courtyards, looking at the great trees that stoodlike tall, grim sentinels guarding the place of prayer. Then we weretaken by our bearers to the Goldfish Monastery in the hills. Dost thouremember it? Thou and I were there once in the springtime.We bought the small round cakes from the priests and fed the greedyfish. They swarmed over the pool, pushing, nudging, fighting oneanother to get the morsels we threw them. Tiring of that, we had teaand sweetmeats served upon the terrace; then, after chatting for atime, we left for the boat. We drifted slowly homeward. Thy Motherand her friends discussed the earth, the moon, the sun and stars, aswell as smaller matters, such as children, husbands, servants,schools-- and upon the last thy Mother waxed most eloquent; as thouknowest, it is a sore subject with her, this matter of the neweducation. I heard her say: "All my sons have book knowledge. Ofwhat use is it in the end? The cock crows and the dog barks. Weknow that, but the wisest of my sons cannot say why one crows andthe other barks, nor why they crow or bark at all." Canst thou hearher, and see her shake her head dolefully over the dismal fact thatthou hast left the narrow way of Confucius and the classics?We came to the pathway just at sunset, and as I looked up at the oldpalace a little hurt came to my heart that thou wert not close by myside. It lay so peaceful there and quiet, the curving roofs like flights ofdoves who had settled down with their wings not yet quite folded. Itbrought remembrance that for me it was an empty palace. I will seeno one-- as Li-ti will-- within the archway.Thy Wife Who Loves Thee.11My Dear One,Thy letter and the photographs received. Thou sayest it is a"flashlight" of a reception to thy Master, the Prince. I do not knowexactly what that means, but there seem to be many people and--ladies. I have not shown thine Honourable Mother the picture, as shemight ask thee to return at once. I do not criticise thy friends, norcould our Prince go to a place not fitting to his dignity, but-- the ladiesseem in my poor judgment most lightly clad.The papers here are full of thy reception in that foreign land and of thehonour that is paid the embassy. Thy brother read to all within thecourtyard of the feasts that are given in honour of His Highness, andwe were full proud, knowing well thou stoodst close by him at thetime. Thy letters are a joy to me. We read them many times, andthen I read those of Chih-peh, which talk of things I do not understand.Thou must not give the foolish boy ideas, as he prates most glibly of"republics" and "government of the people by the people," after he hasreceived thy letters. That is for men of wisdom like thee, but not forfoolish boys to carry with them to the tea-house.Kwei-li.12My Dear One,Thou askest me if I still care for thee, if the remembrance of thy facehas grown less dear with the passing of the days. Dear one, thouknowest we Chinese women are not supposed to know of love, muchless to speak of it. We read of it, we know it is the song of all theworld, but it comes not to us unless by chance. We go to you asstrangers, we have no choice, and if the Gods withhold their greatestgift, the gift of love, then life is grey and wan as the twilight of ahopeless day. Few women have the joy I feel when I look into myloved one's face and know that I am his and he is mine, and that ourlives are twined together for all the days to come.Do I love thee? I cannot tell. I think of thee by day and I dream of theeby night. I never want to hurt thee nor cause thee a moment's sorrow.I would fill my hands with happiness to lay down at thy feet. Thou artmy life, my love, my all, and I am thine to hold through all the years.13My Dear One,It is the time of school, and now all the day from the servants'courtyard I hear their droning voices chanting the sayings ofConfucius. I did not know we had so many young lives within ourcompound until I saw them seated at their tables. I go at times andtell them tales which they much prefer to lessons, but of which thineHonourable Mother does not approve. I told them the other day ofPwan-ku. Dost thou remember him? How at the beginning of Time thegreat God Pwan-ku with hammer and chisel formed the earth. Hetoiled and he worked for eighteen thousand years, and each dayincreased in stature six feet, and, to give him room, the Heavens roseand the earth became larger and larger. When the Heavens wereround and the earth all smooth, he died. His head became mountains,his breath the wind and the clouds, his voice the thunder. His armsand legs were the four poles, his veins the rivers, his muscles the hillsand his flesh the fields. His eyes became the stars, his skin and hairthe herbs and the trees, and the insects which touched him becamepeople. Does not that make thee think of thy childhood's days?They crowd around me and say, "Tell us more," just as I did with myoldamahwhen she stilled me with the tales of the Gods. Yesterday,one small boy, the son of the chief steward, begged for a story of thesun. I had to tell him that my wisdom did not touch the sun, althoughI, in my foolish heart, think it a great God because it gives us warmthand we can feel its kindly rays. I said, "Thou hast seen the cooliestracking on the tow-path with their heavy wadded clothing wet withrain. If it were not for the kindly sun which dries them, how could theytoil and work and drag the great rice-boats up to the water-gate? Is henot a God to them?"I told them also of Chang-ngo, the great, great beauty who drank thecup of life eternal. She went to the moon, where the jealous Godsturned her into a great black toad. She is there, forever thinking,mourning over her lost beauty, and when we see the soft haze comeover the face of the moon, we know that she is weeping and filling thespace with her tears.I perhaps am wrong to tell the foolish tales to the children, but theygrow so tired of the hard benches and Chang-tai, the teacher, whoglares at them so fiercely when they speak not quickly enough toplease him.There has been much gossip from the valley over the mountain-side. Itseems an iron bridge is being put across the river, and strange mencome and peer at the countryside through witch glasses. It has madethe good spirits of the air to draw apart from the valley, and the cattlehave died and the rice not ripened, and much sorrow has gonebroadcast. The river overflowed, because they desecrated theDragon's back by digging down into the earth that was sacred. I knownothing except what is brought from the market-place, and, as it doesnot concern us here on the mountain-side, I listen only with my ears,not with my mind.The nights are long and cold. The moon casts silver shimmering lightsover the valley below. We cannot stand long on the terrace but muststay close within our rooms near to the charcoal braziers. The windsweeps o'er the rooftree with the wailing voice of a woman.Oh, Soul of Mine, with weary heart the creeping days I'm counting.Thy Wife.14My Dear One,We have had a serious sickness come to all the countryside; rich andpoor, peasant and merchant have suffered from a fever that will notabate. It raged for more than a moon before it was known the causethereof. Dost thou remember the Kwan-lin Pagoda? Its ruin has longbeen a standing shame to the people of the province, and finally theGods have resented their neglect and sent them this great illness.Over all the city the yellow edicts of the priests have been placed soas to meet the eye of all who travel. They are in the market-places, atthe entrance of the tea-houses, standing on great boards at thedoorways of the temples, in front of the water-gates, and at each citypostern. They state that the Gods are angry and send to each man orhousehold that will not give three days' work upon the Pagoda thefever that leaves him weak and ailing. They demand the labour of thecity; and if it is not given freely, toil is sent the people in their sleepand they waken weary, and must so remain until the work is finished.We did not hearken to the summons until Chih-peh, thy brother, fell illwith the sickness. He grew worse each day, until Li-ti and thineHonourable Mother were panic-stricken. At last the chairs wereordered, and thy Mother and I went to the monastery on the hillside toconsult with the old abbot, who is most full of wisdom. ThineHonourable Mother told him of the illness which had assailed her son,and begged him to tell her if it were the illness of the Pagoda. Hemeditated long and seriously, then he said, "My daughter, the Godsare no respecter of persons; they wish the service of your son.""But," thine Honourable Mother objected, "he is no workman. Hecannot labour upon the Pagoda." The abbot said, "There are moreways of giving service than the labour of the hands. The Gods willallow him to contribute of his wealth and buy the toil of other men, andthus he may cancel his obligation." The August One satisfied thegreedy heart of the priest, and then he told her to go and make herbeisance to the God of Light, the great Buddha, and see whatmessage he had for her.She took the hollow bamboo filled with the numbered slices of woodand, prostrating herself three times before the Great One, shook itslowly until one detached itself from its brothers and fell to the floor.The abbot then handed her a slip of paper which read:"Wisdom sits by the Western GateAnd gives health and happiness to those who wait."These words meant nothing to thine Honourable Mother; and aftergiving the abbot more silver, he said, "Beside the Western Gate sitsthe owl of wisdom, the great doctor Chow-fong. His father and hisfather's father were wise; their study was mankind, and to him hascome all their stores of knowledge. He has books of wonderful age,that tell him the secret of the world. Go to him; he will give you theplan of healing."

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