Chapter 3

We started for the Western Gate, and I, in my wicked heart, spokethoughts that should have been closely locked within my breast. Isaid, "Perhaps the doctor and the priest have formed a combinationmost profitable to the two. If we had gone to the doctor first, we mighthave been sent to the abbot." It was a great mistake to mention sucha dreadful thing, and I realised it instantly; as thou knowest, the ElderOne has a tongue of eloquence, and I was indeed glad that herbearers carried her at least ten paces from my bearers-- and the waywas long.Even thine Honourable Mother was awed at the solemn looks of thisgreat man of medicine who, in his dim room with dried bats hangingfrom the ceiling beams and a dragon's egg close by his hand, glaredat her through his great goggles like a wise old owl. She apologisedfor disturbing so great a man at his studies, but she was the bearer ofa message from the abbot. He read it carefully, then took down amonstrous book entitled "The Golden Mirror of Medical Practice," andsolemnly pored over its pages. At last he wrote upon a paper, thenchanted:"In a building tall, by the city wall, In the street of the Tower of Gold, Isthe plant of health, long life and wealth, In the claws of the Dragonbold."The August One took the paper, laid some silver upon the table, andwe hurried from his doorway, glad to be free from his fearful presence.When we entered the chairs and looked to the paper for directions togive the bearers, the characters were meaningless to us. I repeatedhis chant, and the head bearer said, "There is a shop of drugs in thestreet of the Tower of Gold, and the sign of the place is a GoldenDragon's Claw."We soon were there, and waited in our chairs while the bearer tookthe paper into the maker of medicines. We waited long, and thineHonourable Mother would have been impatient if sleep had not kindlymade her forget the waiting hours. I, sitting in my chair, could lookthrough the archways into the big covered courtyards where blind menwere grinding herbs. They were harnessed to great stones, and wentround and round all day, like buffalo at the water-wheel. I wonderedwhy the Gods had put them at this service. What sins they hadcommitted in their other life, to be compelled to work like beasts,grinding the herbs that would bring health and life to others, while theylived on in darkness. Often I would hear the soft call of the deer asthey moved restlessly in their tiny cells. I know their horns, whenpowdered fine with beetles' wings, is the cure for fevers and allailments of the blood, but why could not the wise ones of the earthhave found some herb or weed to take their place and give these wildones of the woods their freedom? Finally, the bearer came with a tinyjar, too small, it seemed, to take such time in mixing, and wereturned to the waiting Li-ti.The medicine was black and nasty and smelled not sweetly, whichproved its strength. Chih-peh got slowly better, and the world againlooked fair to Li-ti, and the song came to her lips. The flowers wereput in the hair, the gay dresses were brought out of their boxes, andshe was, as of old, our butterfly.We laughed at her for her fright, but I thought, if it had been thou whowast ill, and I did not know the cure! Oh, dear one, dost thouunderstand that, to a woman who loves, her husband is more thanHeaven, more than herself? All that she is not, all that she lacks, allthat she desires to be, is her beloved. His breath alone can bringpeace to her heart, and it is he alone who teaches her the depth ofpassionate joy there is in love and life and all things beautiful.I am, thy wife.15My Dear One,Thine Honourable Mother is beset by the desire or marrying. No, donot start; it is not or herself she is thinking. She will go to the River orSouls mourning thine Honourable Father, and apailowill be erected inher honour. It is or her household she is thinking. She says ourrooftree is too small to shelter four women, three or whom have littlebrains-- and that includes thy humble, loving wire-- but why sheshould wish to exchange Mah-li, whom she knows, for a strangewoman whom she does not know, passes my understanding. Sheseems not overfond of daughters-in-law, if one judge from chanceremarks.First, before I speak or Mah-li, I must tell thee of thy brother. ThineHonourable Mother is right-- it were better that he marry and have aheel rope that leads him homewards. He is unruly and passesovermuch time at the Golden Lotus Tea-house. He is not bad orwicked. He lives but for the moment, and the moment is oftenwine-flushed. He will not work or study, and many times at night Isend away the gatekeeper and leave myamahat the outer archway,so thy Mother will not know the hour he enters. He is young, and haschosen friends not equal to himself, and they have set his feet in thepath-way that slopes downward.At night I send away the gatekeeper and leave my amah at the outer archway, so thy Mother will not know the hour he enters.He does not wish to marry. We have told him that marriage is a will ofthe Gods and must be obeyed. "Man does not attain by himself, nor,Woman by herself, but like the one-winged birds of our childhood'stale, they must rise together." It is useless to talk to him. A spark offire will not kindle wood that is still too green, and I rear he is in lovewith life, and youth, and freedom.I do not wish to doubt the wisdom of the August One, but I think shemade a mistake in her choice of a bride for Chih-mo. She choseTai-lo, the daughter of the Prefect of Chih-Ii. The arrangements werenearly made, the dowry even was discussed, but when the astrologercast their horoscopes to see if they could pass their life in peacetogether, it was found that the ruler of Chih-mo's life was a lion, andthat of the bride's, a swallow, so it was clearly seen they could notshare one rooftree. I fear (I would not have this come to the ears ofthine Honourable Mother) that some silver was left upon the doorstepof the astrologer. Chih-mo asked of me the loan of an hundredtaels,and I saw the wife of the reader of the stars pass by with a new gownof red and gold brocade.I think Chih-mo had seen Tai-lo. Report gives her small beauty. Yet,as the Elder One says, "Musk is known by its perfume, and not bythe druggist's label." Quite likely she would have made a good wife;and-- we have one beauty in the household-- it is enough.There is much wailing in the courtyards. The gardener and the bearerand the watchman are having bound the feet of their small daughters.The saying, "For every pair of golden lillies' there is akangof tears,"is true. I am so sorry for them. Just when they want to run and play,they must sit all day with aching feet. Myamahwished to put on theheavy bindings, but I would not permit it. I said, "Do you want littleeyes to fill with tears each time they see you coming across thecourtyard? If their grandmothers do not come, let some old womenfrom the village do the cruel thing."The happy rains of the spring are here. It is not the cold, drear rain ofautumn, but dancing, laughing rain that comes sweeping across thevalley, touching the rice-fields lovingly, and bringing forth the younggreen leaves of the mulberry. I hear it patter upon the roof atnight-time, and in the morning all the earth seems cleansed and new;fresh colours greet mine eye when I throw back my casement.When wilt thou come to me, thou keeper of my heart?Thy Wife.16Dear One,"He whose faults are never told himDoubtless deems the angels mould him."That cannot be said of three women of thy household.It is Mah-li this time on whom the wrath descends. She and Li-ti werebroidering in the western room, where they could get the last rays ofthe sun. Perhaps they were speaking on forbidden subjects-- I do notknow; but thine Honourable Mother entered quietly and reproved them,and (even when I write it I blush for her) Mah-li said to her HonourableMother, "Only cats and cranes and thieves walk silently." Thy Motherwas speechless with anger, and justly so, and now it is decided thatMah-li must be married. She needs a stronger hand than a woman's.Is it not ridiculous, little Mah-li needing a strong hand?At first the August One considered Meng-wheh, the prefect atSung-dong. He is old and cross, but when I remonstrated, I was toldthat he was rich. His many tens of thousands ofsyceeare supposedto weigh more than youth and love. I said, "Though he bar with goldhis silver door," a man cannot keep the wife who loves him not. ThineHonourable Mother thought more wisely, and after days ofconsideration entered into consultation with the family of Sheng Ta-jenin regard to his son. It seems Mah-li is doomed to marriage soon, andshe does not know whether she is happy or sorrowful. She is turnedthis way and that, as the seed of the cotton-tree is swayed by thecoming and going of the wind. To-day she laughs, to-morrow sheweeps. Thy Mother has lost all patience with her, and, as she alwaysdoes when her own words rail her, I heard her quoting the Sage: "Justas ducks' legs though short cannot be lengthened without pain, norcranes' legs though long be shortened without misery to the crane,neither can sense be added to a silly woman's head."I feel that thine Honourable Mother is unkind to Mah-li. She is aflower, a flower that has her place in life the same as themorning-glory, which is loved just as fondly by the Gods as thepine-tree which stands so stately upon the hillside. She is light andpure and dainty as the fragrance of perfumed air, and I do not want tosee her go to a family who will not understand her youth and love ofplay.Mah-li has asked of me money, and with it bought a great candle foreach day, which she sends down the mountain-side to be placedbefore Kwan-yin. I asked her to tell me her prayer, that needed solarge an offering. The unfilial girl said she prayed, "Kwan-yin, send mea husband withnofamily."Such a lot of petty gossip I pour into thine ears, yet thou wouldstknow the happenings of thine household. Of the world outside, thybrother writes thee. My world is here within these walls.Thy Wife.17My Dear One,Thine house of intrigue. Deep, dark intrigue and plotting. Thy wife haslent herself to a most unwomanly thing, and doubtless thou wilt tellher so, but Mah-li begged so prettily, I could refuse her nothing. I toldthee in my last letter that thine Honourable Mother had been regardingthe family of Sheng Ta-jen with a view to his son as husband ofMah-li. It is settled, and Mah-li leaves us in the autumn. None of usexcept Chih-peh has seen the young man, and Mah-li did a mostimmodest thing the other day. She came to me and asked me to findout from Chih-peh if he were handsome, if he were young-- all thequestions that burn the tongue of a young girl, but which she mustkeep within tightly closed lips if she would not be thought unmaidenly.I asked thy brother; but his answer was not in regard to the questionsMah-li wished so much to know. So we arranged a plan-- a plan thatcaused me many nights of sleeplessness. It was carried out and-- stillthe sky is blue, the stars are bright at night, and the moon shines justas softly on the valley.The first part of the plan was for Li-ti. She must persuade Chih-peh toask Shen-go to spend the day with him at the Fir-tree Monastery.When he knew the meaning of the invitation he refused. He wasshocked, and properly; as it was a thing unheard-of. He could notunderstand why Mah-li would not be content with her mother's choice.Li-ti brought all her little ways to bear-- and Chih-peh can refuse hernothing. At the Feast of the Moon thy brother asked three friends tojoin him at the monastery and stroll amongst its groves.The rest of the plan was for me to carry out; and I, thy wife, displayeda talent for diplomacy. I noticed that the cheeks of our HonourableMother were pale, that she seemed listless, that her step waswearied. I said doubtless she was tired of being shut within thecompound walls with three aimless, foolish women, and proposed afeast or pilgrimage. I mentioned the Goldfish Pond, knowing she wastired of it; spoke of the Pagoda on the Hills, knowing full well that shedid not like the priests therein; then, by chance, read from a book thestory of the two kings. It is the tale of the King of Hangchow and theKing of Soochow who, in the olden time, divided our great valleybetween them. The King of Hangchow was an old man and the caresof state fell heavily upon his shoulders. The King of Soochow was aman, eaten up with mad ambitions. He began to tread upon the landsof the old King, taking now a farmhouse, now a village, and at last acity, until the poor old King was threatened at his very gateway by thearmy of the young man. The young King had strength, but the oldKing had guile, so he made a peace with his enemy for one year. Hesent him presents, costly silks and teas, and pearls and jade andginseng, and, last and best, a beautiful slave-girl, the most beautiful inthe province. The young King was delighted, and forgot his warring,passing all his days within the women's quarters.As the winter waned and the spring came, the slave-girl sickened,said she panted for the hillsides, and she pointed to the mountainoutside his city walls. He was a foolish King, and he builded for her apalace, and she moved there with her women. The King was lonely inthe city, and he passed his days with the women in the palace on themountain. While living there in pleasure, and his army in the city, theold King of Hangchow sent his soldiers; and soon there was no Kingof Soochow, only a slave-girl decked with many jewels was takenback with honour to the old King's city.I read all this to thine Honourable Mother, and told her we could seethe ruins of the fish-pond, of the palace, see the fallen marbles fromthe tea-house, and-- the chairs were ordered, and we went. Wewandered over deserted pathways, saw the lotus pools once filled withgoldfish, picked our way through lonely courtyards, climbed thesunken steps of terraces that had once been gay with flowers. It allwas melancholy, this palace built for pleasure, now a mass ofcrumbling ruins, and it saddened us. We sat upon the King's benchthat overlooked the plain, and from it I pointed out the Fir-treeMonastery in the distance. I spoke of their famous tea, sun-dried withthe flowers of jessamine, and said it might bring cheer and take awaythe gloom caused by the sight of death and vanished grandeurs nowaround us.We were carried swiftly along the pathways that wound in and outpast farm villages and rest-houses until we came to the monastery,which is like a yellow jewel in its setting of green fir-trees. The priestsmade us most welcome, and we drank of their tea, which has notbeen overpraised, sitting at a great open window looking down uponthe valley. Strolling in the courtyard was Chih-peh with his threefriends. Mah-li never raised her eyes; she sat as maidens sit in public,but-- she saw.We came home another pathway, to pass the resting-place ofSheng-dong, the man who at the time of famine fed the poor and gavehis all to help the needy. The Gods so loved him that when his bodywas carried along the road-way to the Resting-place of his Ancestors,all the stones stood up to pay him reverence. One can see them now,standing straight and stiff, as if waiting for his command to lie downagain.Art thou dissatisfied with me? Have I done wrong? Dear One, it meansso much to Mah-li. Let her dream these months of waiting. It is hardto keep wondering, doubting, fearing one knows not what, hoping asyoung girls hope. But now she has seen him. To me he was just astraight-limbed, bright-faced boy; to her he is a God. There are noteeth so white, no hair so black, and man were not born who walkedwith such a noble stride. It will make the summer pass more quickly,and the thought of the marriage-chair will not be to her the gateway ofa prison.Art thou not tired of that far-off country? Each time I break the seal ofthy dear letter I say, "Perhaps this time-- it holds for me myhappiness. It will say, 'I am coming home to thee'." I amlonging for that message.Thy Wife.18My Dear One,It will soon be the Feast of the Springtime. Even now the roads arecovered with the women coming to the temple carrying their basketsof spirit money and candles to lay before the Buddha.Spring will soon be truly here; the buds are everywhere. Everythinglaughs from the sheer joy of laughter. The sun looks down upon thewater in the canal and it breaks into a thousand little ripples from puregladness. I too am happy, and I want to give of my happiness. I haveput a greatkangof tea down by the rest-house on the tow-path, sothat they who thirst may drink. Each morning I send Chang-tai, thegate-keeper, down to the man who lives in the little reed hut he hasbuilded by the grave of his father. For three years he will live there, toshow to the world his sorrow. I think it very worthy and filial of him, soI send him rice each morning. I have also done another thing toexpress the joy that is deep within my heart. The old abbot, out ofthankfulness that the tall poles were not erected before the monasterygateway, has turned the fields back of the temple into a freeing-placefor animals. There one may acquire merit by buying a sheep, a horse,a dog, a bird, or a snake that is to be killed, and turning it loose whereit may live and die a natural death, as the Gods intended from thebeginning. I have given him a sum of money, large in his eyes butsmall when compared to my happiness, to aid him in this worthywork. I go over in the morning and look at the poor horses and thedogs, and wonder whose soul is regarding me from out of their tiredeyes.Let me hear that thou art coming, man of mine, and I will gatherdewdrops from the cherry-trees and bathe me in their perfume to giveme beauty that will hold thee close to me.I am,Thy Wife.19.My Dear One,I have received thy letter telling me thou wilt not be here until thesummer comes. Then, I must tell thee my news, as the springtime ishere, the flowers are budding, the grass is green, soon the plum-treein the courtyard will be white. I am jealous of this paper that will seethe delight and joy in thine eyes. In the evening I watch the rice boatspass along the canal, where the water is green and silvery like thenew leaves of the willow, and I say, "Perhaps when you return, I shallbe the mother of a child." Ah--! I have told thee. Does it bring theehappiness, my lord? Does it make a quick little catch in thy breath?Does thy pulse quicken at the thought that soon thou wilt be a father?I watch the rice boats pass along the canal.Thou wilt never know what this has meant to me. It has made thecreature live that was within my soul, and my whole being is bathedwith its glory. Thou wilt never know how many times I have gone downthe pathway to the temple and asked this great boon of our Lady ofMercy. She granted it, and my life is made perfect. I am indeed awoman, fulfilling a woman's destiny. If a woman bear not sons for herlord, what worth her life? Do we not know that the first of the sevencauses for putting away a wife is that she brings no sons into theworld to worship at the graves of her husband's ancestors? But I,Kwei-li, that will not be said of me.Sometimes I think, "If something should happen; if the Gods shouldbe jealous of my happiness and I should not see thee more?" Thenthe heart of the woman throbs with fear, and I throw myself at the feetof Kwan-yin and beg for strength. She gives me peace and brings tomy remembrance that the bond of fate is sealed within the moon.There is no place for fear, for aught but love; my heart is filled so withits happiness.Thy Wife.20My Dear One,The spring has come, and with it some new pulse of life beats throughmy quiet veins. I spend long hours upon the terrace, breathing in theperfume of the many flowers. The cherry-blossoms are a glory. Thewhole steep hillside is covered with a fairy lace, as if some God knewhow we hungered after beauty and gave us these pink blossoms tohelp us to forget the bare cold earth of winter.It is the time of praying, and all the women with their candles and theirincense are bending knees and chanting prayers to Kwan-yin for theblessing of a son. There is a pilgrimage to the Kwem-li Pagoda. I cansee it in the distance, with its lotus bells that sway and ring with eachlight breath of wind. One does not think of it as a thing of brick andmortar, or as a many-storied temple, but as a casket whose jewelsare the prayers of waiting, hoping women.You ask me how I pass my days? I cannot tell. At dawn, I wake withhope and listen to the song of the meadow-lark. At noon, I dream ofmy great happiness to come. At sunset, I am swept away into theland of my golden dreams, into the heart of my golden world thatis peopled with but three-- Thou, Him, and Me. I am drifting happily,sleepily, forgetting care, waiting for the Gods to bring my joy.Thy Wife.21.My Dear One,My courtyard is filled with the sounds of chatting women. I have sentfor the sewiing-women and those who do embroidery, and the daysare passed in making little garments. We are all so busy; Li-ti, Mah-li,even thine Honourable Mother takes again the needle and shows ushow she broidered jackets for thee when thou wert young. The piles ofclothing grow each day, and I touch them and caress them andimagine I can see them folding close a tiny form. There are jackets,trousers, shoes, tiny caps and thick warm blankets.I send for Blind Chun, the story-teller, and he makes the hours passquickly with his tales of by-gone days. The singers and thefortune-tellers all have found the path that leads up to our gateway,knowing they will find a welcome.The singers and the fortune-tellers all have found the path that leads up to our gateway.I am,Thy Happy Wife.22 I send thee cherry-blossoms. They grew within thy courtyard, andeach tiny petal will bring to thee remembrance of thy wife who lovesthee well.23If thou couldst see my courtyard! It seems carpeted with snow, somany are the cherry-blossoms on its pavement. They say I am untidythat I permit it to be untouched by broom or brush. It is cleaned andspotless all the year, save at this the time of cherry-blossoms, when'tis untrodden and unswept.I cannot write thee merely household cares and gossip. I am so filledwith happiness, I can only dream and wonder. Joy is beating with hiswings just outside my open window, and soon all the gates of Heavenwill be opened wide to me.Thy Wife.24He is here, beloved, thy son! I put out my hand and touch him, andthe breath of the wind through the pine-trees brings the music of theGods to me. He is big and strong and beautiful. I see in his eyes as ina mirror the reflection of thy dear face, and I know he is thine andmine, and we three are one. He is my joy, my son, my first-born. I amtired, my lord, the brush is heavy, but it is such a happy, happy tired.Thy Wife.25Is there anything so wonderful as being the mother of a son? I simplysing, and laugh, and live-- oh, how Ilivethe long days through. I havehappiness enough for all the world, and I want to give and give andgive. Thy mother says that all the beggers within the province knowthere is rice outside our gateway; but when I look into my son's eyes,and feel his tiny fingers groping in my neck, I feel I must give of myplenty to those who have no joy.Oh, husband mine, come back and see thy son!26Dost thou know what love is? Thou canst not till thou holdest Loveitself within thy very arms. I thought I loved thee. I smile now at theremembrance of that feeble flickering flame that was as like unto thereal love as the faint, cold beam of the candle is to the rays of theglorious sun. Now-- now-- thou art the father of my son. Thou hast anew place in my heart. The tie that binds our hearts together isstronger than a rope of twisted bamboo, it is a bond, a love bond, thatnever can be severed. I am the mother of thy first-born-- thou hastgiven me my man-child. Love thee-- love thee--! Now Iknow!I am Thine Own.27I am wroth with thy brother Chih-peh. He is a man of very smalldiscernment. He does not see the wonders of thy son. He says hecannot see that he is a child of more than mortal beauty. I sorrow forhim. The Gods have surely drawn a film before his eyes.But I cannot bear resentment, there is no room in me for aught butlove and the days are far too short to hold my happiness. I pass themnear my baby. I croon to him sweet lullabies at which the otherslaugh. I say, "Thou dost not understand? Of course not, 'tis thelanguage of the Gods," and as he sleeps I watch his small face groweach day more like to thine. I give long hours to thinking of his future.He must be a man like thee, strong, noble, kindly, bearing thy greatname with honour, so that in years to come it will be said, "Thefirst-born son of Kwei-li was a great and worthy man."At night I lie beside him and am jealous of the sleep that takes himfrom my sight. The morning comes and sets my heart to beating atthe thought that one more long, sweet day has come to me in whichto guard, and love, and cherish him.Thy Happy Wife.28It has been a wonderful day. Thy son has had his first reception. It isjust one moon ago since I found him lying by my side, and now wehave had the feast of the shaving of the head. All our friends came,and they brought him beautiful presents. Chih-lo gave a cap with allthe Gods upon the front and long red tassels to hang down by eachear. Li-ti gave him shoes that she herself had broidered, with a cat'sface on the toes and the ears and whiskers outstanding. They willmake him careful or his steps and sure-footed as the cat. Mah-li gavehim a most wonderful silver box to hang around his neck and in whichI will keep his amulets. There were many things which I will not takethe time to tell thee. I am sorry to say that thy son behaved himselfunseemly. He screamed and kicked as the barber shaved his tinyhead. I was much distressed, but they tell me it is a sign that he willgrow to be a valiant man.I gave a feast, and such a feast! It will be remembered for manymoons. Even thine Honourable Mother said I showed the knowledge ofwhat was due my guests upon so great an occasion. We also gave tohim his milk name. It is Ten Thousand Springtimes, as he came atblossom-time; but I call him that only within my heart, as I do notwish the jealous Gods to hear. "Then I speak of him, I say "TheStupid One," "The Late-Born," so they will think I do not care for himand will not covet me my treasure.I am tired; it has been a happy day. The Gods are good to,Kwei-li.29My Dear One,Another marriage within our compound. Dost thou remember theservant Cho-to, who came to us soon after I became thy bride? Shewill soon marry a man in the village of Soong-tong, and she is veryhappy. She has not seen him, of course, but her mother says he isgood and honest and will make for her a suitable husband. I talked toher quite seriously, as my age and many moons of marriage allowme. I told her that only by practising modesty, humility andgentleness could she walk safely on the path that leads to being themother of sons.To be the mother of sons is not always a happiness. Ling-ti, theshoemaker, was here this morning, and he was in great distress. Hisbaby, three months old, died with a fever and he had no money to payfor burial. This morning he arose early, before the mother awakened,and took it to the baby tower outside the city. It is lying in there now,with all the other little children whose parents were too poor to givethem proper burial. It made a quick, sad hurt within me, and I wentquickly to find my baby. Thou wilt not laugh, but I have pierced hisright ear and put a ring therein, so the Gods will think he is a girl andnot desire him.I hear thy son.Thy Wife.30My Dear One,There has been great talk of evil eyes. Not that I believe the servants'tales; but-- thine Honourable Mother, Li-ti, and thy wife have been tothe Holy Man who dwells underneath the Great Magnolia-tree near thestreet of the Leaning Willow. He lives alone within a little house ofmatting, and has acquired great merit by his virtuous acts. He wearsaround his unbound hair a band of metal that is the outward sign ofhis great holiness. He lives alone in peace and with untroubled mind.In his great wisdom he has learned that peace is the end and aim oflife; not triumph, success, nor riches, but that the greatest gift from allthe Gods is peace. I purchased from him an amulet for my "StupidOne," my treasure, as some onemightcome within our courtyard andcast his eye upon our child with bad intent.Come to me, my husband. Tell me thou art coming. Thou wilt find mestanding in the outer archway with thy son within mine arms. I long forthee.Thy Wife.31My days are filled with happiness. I go out on the terrace and look fardown the hillside that is covered with azaleas, pink and orange andmauve. I hold my son and say, "Look, thy father will come to us fromthe city yonder. Our eyes of love will see him from far away, there bythe willow-pattern tea-house. He will come nearer-- nearer-- and wewill not hear the beat of his bearers' feet upon the pathway because ofthe beating of our hearts." He smiles at me, he understands. He is sowonderful, thy son. I would "string the sunbeams for his necklace ordraw down the moon with cords to canopy his bed."Come back and see thy son.Kwei-li.32My Dear One,Thy letter has come saying thou wilt be here soon. It came on the dayI went to the temple to make my offering of thanks for the gift of ourson.I put on my richest gown, the blue one with the broidery of gold. Idressed my hair with jessamine flowers, and wore all the jewels thouhast given me. My boy was in his jacket of red, his trousers of mauve,his shoes of purple, and his cap with the many Gods. When I wasseated in the chair he was placed in my lap, and a man was sentahead withcashto give the beggars, because I wished all the world tobe happy on this my day of rejoicing.My bearers carried me to the very steps of the throne on whichKwan-yin was seated. I made my obeisance, I lighted the large redcandles and placed them before the Goddess of Heaven. Then I tookour son before the Buddha, the Name, the Lord of Light, theAll-Powerful, and touched his head three times to the mat, to showthat he would be a faithful follower and learn to keep the law.We went home by the valley road, and my heart kept beating in tuneto the pat-pat of the bearers' feet on the pathway. It was all sobeautiful. The trailing vines on the mountain-side, the ferns in the cooldark places, the rich green leaves of the mulberry-trees, the farmers inthe paddy fields, all seemed filled with the joy of life. And I, Kwei-li,going along in my chair with my son on my knee, was the happiest ofthem all. The Gods have given me everything; they have nothing moreto bestow. I am glad I have gone to the mountain-side each day tothank them for their gifts.The Gods are good, my loved one, they are good to thy,Kwei-li.33I am alone on the mountain-top. I have gone the pathway the last timeto lay my offering at the feet of Kwan-yin. She does not hear myvoice. There is no Goddess of Mercy. She is a thing of gold and wood,and she has mocked my despair, has laughed at the heart that iswithin me, that is alive and full of an anguish such as she has neverknown.My son, my man-child is dead. The life has gone from his body, thebreath from his lips. I have held him all the night close to my heartand it does not give him warmth. They have taken him from me andtold me he has gone to the Gods. There are no Gods. There are noGods. I am alone.34He had thine eyes-- he was like to thee. Thou wilt never know thy sonand mine, my Springtime. Why could they not have left thy son forthee to see? He was so strong and beautiful, my first-born.35Do not chide me. I cannot write. What do I do? I do not know. I lielong hours and watch the tiny mites that live within the sun's brightgolden rays, and say, "Why could I not exchange my womanhood,that hopes and loves and sorrows, for one of those small dancingspots within the sunbeams? At least they do not feel."At night sleep does not touch my eyelids. I lie upon the terrace. I willnot go within my chamber, where 'tis gloom and darkness. I watch thestars, a silver, mocking throng, that twinkle at me coldly, and then Isee the moon mount slowly her pathway of the skies. The noises ofthe night come to me softly, as if they knew my sorrow, and thecroaking frogs and the crickets that find lodging by the lotus poolseem to feel with me my loneliness, so plaintive is their cry.I feel the dawn will never come, as if 'twere dead or slumbered; butwhen at last he comes, I watch him touch the hillside, trees, andtemples with soft grey fingers, and bring to me a beauty one does notsee by day. The night winds pass with sighs among the pine-trees,and in passing give a loving touch to bells upon pagodas that bringtheir music faint to me. The dawn is not the golden door of happiness.It only means another day has come and I must smile and talk andlive as if my heart were here.Oh, man of mine, if but thy dream touch would come and bid meslumber, I would obey.Thy Wife.36They have put a baby in my arms, a child found on the tow-path, abeggar child. I felt I could not place another head where our dear boyhad lain, and I sat stiff and still, and tried to push away the little bodypressing close against me; but at touch of baby mouth and fingers,springs that were dead seemed stirring in my heart again. At last Icould not bear it, and I leaned my face against her head and croonedHis lullaby:"The Gods on the rooftree guard pigeons from harmAnd my little pigeon is safe in my arms."I cannot tell thee more. My heart is breaking.37I have given to this stranger-child, this child left to die upon thetow-path, the clothes that were our son's. She was cold, and thyMother came to me so gently and said, "Kwei-li, hast thou no clothingfor the child that was found by thy servants?" I saw her meaning, and Isaid, "Would'st thou have me put the clothing over which I have wept,and that is now carefully laid away in the camphor-wood box, uponthis child?" She said-- and thou would'st not know thy Mother's voice,her bitter words are only as the rough shell of the lichee nut thatcovers the sweet meat hidden within-- she said, "Why not, dear one?This one needs them, and the hours thou passest with them are onlyfilled with saddened memories." I said to her, "This is a girl, a beggarchild. I will not give to her the clothing of my son. Each time I lookedupon her it would be a knife plunged in my heart." She said to me,"Kwei-li, thou art not a child, thou art a woman. Of what worth thatclothing lying in that box of camphor-wood? Does it bring back thyson? Some day thou wilt open it, and there will be nothing but dustwhich will reproach thee. Get them and give them to this child whichhas come to us out of the night."I went to the box and opened it, and they lay there, the little thingsthat had touched his tiny body. I gave them, the trousers of purple,the jackets of red, the embroidered shoes, the caps with the manyBuddhas. I gave them all to the begger child.I am,Thy Wife.38I am reproached because I will not go to the temple. It is filled with thesounds of chanting which comes to me faintly as I lie upon theterrace. There are women there, happy women, with their babies intheir arms, while mine are empty. There are others there in sorrow,laying their offerings at the feet of Kwan-yin. They do not know thatshe does not feel, nor care, for womankind. She sits upon her lotusthrone and laughs at mothers in despair. Howcanshe feel, how canshe know, that thing of gilded wood and plaster?I stay upon my terrace, I live alone within my court of silent dreams.For me there are no Gods.39 They have brought to me from the market-place a book of a new God.I would not read it. I said, "There are too many Gods-- why add a newone? I have no candles or incense to lay before an image." But-- Iread and saw within its pages that He gave rest and love and peace.Peace-- what the holy man desired, the end of all things-- peace. AndI, I do not want to lose the gift of memory; I want remembrance, but Iwant it without pain.The cherry-blossoms have bloomed and passed away. They lingeredbut a moment's space, and, like my dream of spring, they died. But,passing, they have left behind the knowledge that we'll see them onceagain. There must be something,somewhere, to speak to despairingmothers and say, "Weep not! You will see your own again."I do not want a God of temples. I have cried my prayers to Kwan-yin,and they have come back to me like echoes from a deadened wall. Iwant a God to come to me at night-time, when I am lying lonely,wide-eyed, staring into darkness, with all my body aching for thetouch of tiny hands. I want that God who says, "I give thee Peace," tostand close by my pillow and touch my wearied eyelids and bring merest.I have been dead-- enclosed within a tomb of sorrow and despair; butnow, at words but dimly understood, a faint new life seems stirringdeep within me. A Voice speaks to me from out these pages, a Voicethat says, "Come unto Me all ye weary and heavy-laden, and I willgive thee rest." My longing soul cries out, "Oh, great and unknownGod, givemethis rest!" I am alone, a woman, helpless, stretching outmy arms in darkness, but into my world of gloom has come a faintdim star, a star of hope that says to me, "Thereisa God."-Part_ 2.-Preface_.These letters were written by Kwei-li twenty-five years after thosewritten to her husband when she was a young girl of eighteen. Theyare, therefore, the letters of the present-day Chinese woman of the oldschool, a woman who had by education and environment exceptionalopportunities to learn of the modern world, but who, like every Easternwoman, clings with almost desperate tenacity to the traditions andcustoms of her race. Indeed, however the youth of Oriental countriesmay be changing, their mothers always exhibit that characteristic ofwoman-hood, conservatism, which is to them the safe-guard of theirhomes. Unlike the Western woman, accustomed to a broaderhorizon, the woman of China, secluded for generations within hernarrow courtyards, prefers the ways and manners which she knows,rather than flying to ills she knows not of. It is this self-protectiveinstinct that makes the Eastern woman the foe to those innovationswhich are slowly but surely changing the face of the entire Eastern,yard.The former letters were written out of the quiet, domestic scenes ofthe primitive, old China, while the present letters come out of theconfused revolutionary atmosphere of the new China. Kwei-li'spatriotism and hatred of the foreigner grows out of the fact that, aswife of the governor of one of the chief provinces, she had been fromthe beginning en rapport with the intrigues, the gossip, and therumours of a revolution which, for intricacy of plot and hidden motive,is incomparable with any previous national change on record. Herattitude toward education as seen in her relationship with her soneducated in England and America reveals the attitude of the averageChinese father and mother if they would allow their inner feelings tospeak.Kwei-li's religion likewise exhibits the tendency of religious attitude onthe part of the real Chinese, especially those of the older generation.It is touched here and there by the vital spark of Christianity, but atthe centre continues to be Chinese and inseparably associated withthe worship of ancestors and the reverence for those gods whoseinfluence has been woven into the early years of impressionable life.That the hope of the educational, social, and religious change inChina rests with the new generation is evident to all. The Chinesefather and mother will sail in the wooden ships which their sons anddaughters are beginning to leave for barks of steel.There is little doubt that new China will be Westernised in everydepartment of her being. No friend of China hopes for such suddenchanges, however, as will prevent the Chinese themselves frompermeating the new with their own distinctive individuality. There is acharm about old China that only those who have lived there canunderstand, and there is a charm about these dainty ladies, secludedwithin their walls, which the modern woman may lose in a too suddentransition into the air of the Western day.Let Europe, let America, let the West come to China, but let the daybe far distant when we shall find no longer in the women's courtyardssuch mothers as Kwei-li.1My Dear Mother,Thy son has received his appointment as governor of this province,and we are at last settled in this new and strange abode. We aremost proud of the words pronounced by His Excellency Yuan whengiving him his power of office. He said:"You, Liu, are an example of that higher patriotism rarely met with inofficial life, which recognises its duty to its Government, a duty toooften forgotten by the members of a great family such as that of whichyou are the honoured head, in the obligation to the Clan and thedesire to use power for personal advantage. Your official record hasbeen without stain; and especially your work among the foreignersdwelling in our land has been accomplished with tact and discretion. Iam sending you to Shanghai, which is the most difficult post in theRepublic because of its involved affairs with the foreign nations,knowing that the interests of the Republic will be always safe in yourhands."I write thee this because I know thy mother-heart will rejoice that ourPresident shows such confidence in thy son, and that his many yearsof service to his country have been appreciated.Shanghai truly is a difficult place at present. There are fifteennationalities here represented by their consuls, and they are allwatching China and each other with jealous eyes, each nation fearingthat another will obtain some slight advantage in the present unsettledstate of our country. The town is filled with adventurers, bothEuropean and Chinese, who are waiting anxiously to see whatattitude the new Governor takes in regard to the many projects inwhich they are interested. My husband says nothing and allows themto wonder. It is better for them, because, like all schemers, if they hadnothing to give them anxious nights and troubled dreams, they wouldnot be happy.We found theYamennot suitable for our large household, as it did notlend itself readily to the reception of foreigners and the innovationsand new customs that seem to be necessary for the fulfillment of theduties of a Chinese official under this new order. As thy son wasselected governor of this province because of his knowledge of foreignlands and customs, it is necessary for him to live, partly at least, thelife of a European; but let me assure thee that, so far as I amconcerned, and so far as I can influence it, our life behind the screenswill always be purely Chinese, and the old, unchanged customs that Ilove will rule my household. I will surrender no more than is necessaryto this new tide of Westernism that seems to be sweeping our Chinafrom its moorings; but-- I must not dwell o'ermuch upon that theme,though it is a subject on which I can wax most eloquent, and I knowthou desirest to hear of this house which would seem so ugly in thineeyes.There are no quiet courtyards, no curving roofs, no softly shadedwindows of shell, no rounded archways; but all is square and glaringand imposing, seeming to look coldly from its staring windows ofglass at the stranger within its gates. It says loudly, "I am rich; itcosts many thousands oftaelsto make my ugliness." For me, it isindeed a "foreign" house. Yet I will have justice within my heart andtell thee that there is much that we might copy with advantage. Inplace of floors of wide plain boards, and walls of wood with great widecracks covered with embroideries and rugs, as in the Chinese homes,the floors are made of tiny boards polished until they glisten like untothe sides of the boats of the tea-house girls, and the walls are ofplaster covered, as in our rooms of reception, with silk and satin, andthe chairs and couches have silken tapestry to match their colour.This furniture, strange to me, is a great care, as I do not understandits usages, and it seems most stiff and formal. I hope some day toknow a foreign woman on terms of friendship, and I will ask her totouch the room with her hands of knowledge, and bring each pieceinto more friendly companionship with its neighbour. Now chairs lookcoldly at tables, as if to say, "You are an intruder!" And it chills me.This house is much more simple than our homes, because of themany modern instruments that make the work less heavy and allow itto be done by few instead of many, as is our way. It is not necessaryto have a man attend solely to the lighting of the lamps. Upon the wallis placed a magic button which, touched even by the hand ofignorance, floods the room with the light of many suns. We see nomore the water-carrier with his two great wooden buckets swingingfrom the bamboo as he comes from river or canal to pour the waterinto the greatkangsstanding by the kitchen door. Nor do we need toput the powder in it to make it clear and wholesome. That is all doneby men we do not see, and they call it "sanitation." The cook needsonly to turn a small brass handle, and the water comes forth as froma distant spring. It reminds me of the man who came to my father,when he was governor of Wuseh, and wished to install a mostunheard-of machine to bring water to the city from the lake upon thehillside. My father listened most respectfully to the long and stupidexplanation, and looked at the clear water which the foreign manproduced to show what could be done, then, shaking his head, said,"Perhaps that water is more healthful, as you say, but it is to me tooclear and white. It has no body, and I fear has not the strength of thewater from our canals."Another thing we do not hear is the rattle of the watchman as hemakes his rounds at night, and I miss it. In far Sezchuan, on manynights when sleep was distant, I would lie and listen as he struckupon his piece of hollow bamboo telling me that all was well within ourcompound. Now the city has police that stand outside the gateway.Many are men from India-- big black men, with fierce black beardsand burning eyes. Our people hate them, and they have good cause.They are most cruel, and ill-treat all who come within their power. Butwe must tread with cat-like steps, as they are employed by theEnglish, who protect them at all times. They are the private army ofthat nation here within our city, and at every chance their numbers areconstantly increased. I do not understand this question of police.There are in thousands of our cities and villages no police, nosoldiers, yet there is less lawlessness and vice in a dozen purelyChinese cities than in this great mongrel town that spends many tensof thousands oftaelseach year upon these guardians of the people'speace. It seems to me that this should tell the world that the force ofChina is not a physical force, but the force of the law-abiding instinctof a happy common people, who, although living on the verge ofmisery and great hunger, live upright lives and do not try to break theircountry's laws.There is a garden within our walls, but not a garden of windingpathways and tiny bridges leading over lotus ponds, nor are therehillocks of rockery with here and there a tiny god or temple peepingfrom some hidden grotto. All is flat, with long bare stretches of greengrass over which are nets, by which my children play a game calledtennis. This game is foolish, in my eyes, and consists of muchjumping and useless waste of strength, but the English play it, and ofcourse the modern Chinese boy must imitate them. I have made onerule: my daughters shall not play the game. It seems to me mostshameful to see a woman run madly, with great boorish strides, infront of men and boys. My daughters pout and say it is played by allthe girls in school, and that it makes them strong and well; but I amfirm. I have conceded many things, but this to me is vulgar andunseemly.Need I tell thee, Mother mine, that I am a stranger in this great city,that my heart calls for the hills and the mountain-side with its fernsand blossoms? Yesterday at the hour of twilight I drove to the countryin the motor (a new form of carrying chair that thou wouldst notunderstand-- or like) and I stopped by a field of flowering mustard. Thescent brought remembrance to my heart, and tears flowed frombeneath my eyelids. The delicate yellow blossoms seemed to speakto me from out their golden throats, and I yearned to hold within myarms all this beauty of the earth flowering beneath my feet. Westayed until the darkness came, and up to the blue night rose from allthe fields "that great soft, bubbling chorus which seems the very voiceof the earth itself-- the chant of the frogs." When we turned back andsaw the vulgar houses, with straight red tops and piercing chimneys, Ishut my eyes and in a vision saw the blue-grey houses with theircurved-up, tilted roofs nestling among the groves of bamboo, and I feltthat if it were my misfortune to spend many moons in this great aliencity, my heart would break with longing for the beautiful home I love.I felt sympathy with Kang Tang-li, of my father's province, who heardof a new God in Anhui. He had eaten bitter sorrow and he felt that theold Gods had forgotten him and did not hear his call, so he walkedtwo long days' journey to find this new God who gave joy and peace tothose who came to him. He arrived at eventime, the sun was settingin a lake of gold, but even with its glory it could not change the uglysquare-built temple, with no curves or grace to mark it as adwelling-place of Gods. Kang walked slowly around this temple,looked long at its staring windows and its tall and ugly spire upon therooftree which seemed to force its way into the kindly blue sky; then,saddened, sick at heart, he turned homeward, saying deep within himno God whom he could reverence would choose for a dwelling-place ahouse so lacking in all beauty.Is this a long and tiresome letter, my Honourable Mother? But thou artfar away, and in thy sheltered walls yearn to know what has come tous, thy children, in this new and foreign life. It is indeed a new life forme, and I can hardly grasp its meaning. They are trying hard to forceus to change our old quietude and peace for the rush and worry of theWestern world, and I fear I am too old and settled for such suddenchanges.Tell Mah-li's daughter that I will send her news of the latest fashions,and tell Li-ti that the hair is dressed quite differently here. I will writeher more about it and send her the new ornaments. They are not sopretty in my eyes, nor are the gowns so graceful, but I will send herpatterns that she may choose.We all give thee our greetings and touch my hand with love.Kwei-li.2My Dear Mother,I have not written thee for long, as my days have been filled withduties new and strange to me. The wives of the foreign officials havecalled upon me, as that appears to be their custom. It seems to mequite useless and a waste of time; but they come, and I must returnthe calls. I do not understand why the consuls cannot transact theirbusiness with the Governor without trying to peer into his inner life. Tous a man's official life and that which lies within his women'scourtyard are as separate as two pathways which never meet.The foreign woman comes and sits upon the edge of her chair in greatdiscomfort, vainly searching for a subject upon which we may have acommon bond. I sit upon the edge of the chair from necessity, asthese chairs are far too high for me, and my tiny feet hang helplesslyin the air. Although the chairs are not so high or so straight and stiffas are our seats of honour, they have no footstools, and no smalltables on which to lean the arm. Thou wouldst laugh at our poor feebleefforts to be agreeable one to the other. Our conversation is as foolishand as useless as would be the using of a paper lantern for therice-mill. With all desire to be courteous and to put her at her ease, Iask about her children, the health of her honourable mother, and thestate of her household. I do not ask her age, as I have learned that,contrary to our usage, it is a question not considered quiteauspicious, and often causes the flush of great embarrassment to riseto the cheek of a guest. Often she answers me in "pidgin" English, akind of baby-talk that is used when addressing servants. Theseforeign women have rarely seen a Chinese lady, and they aresurprised that I speak English; often I have been obliged to explainthat when I found that my husband's office brought him close toforeigners, and that my sons and daughters were learning the neweducation in which it is necessary to know other than their mothertongue, I would not be left behind within closed doors, so I too learnedof English and of French enough to read and speak. I am to them acuriosity. It has not been correct in former times to know a Chineselady socially; and to these ladies, with their society, their calls, theirdinners, and their games of cards, we within the courtyards arepeople from another world. They think that Chinese women are andalways have been the closely prisoned slaves of their husbands, idleand ignorant and soulless, with no thoughts above their pettyhousehold cares and the strange heathen gods they worship.Of course, these foreign women do not say these things in words, buttheir looks are most expressive, and I understand. I serve them teaand cake, of which they take most sparingly, and when the proper

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