Chapter 4

time has come they rise, trying not to look relief that their martyrdomis over. I conduct them to the doorway, or, if the woman is the wife ofa great official, to the outer entrance. Then I return to my own roomsmidst the things I understand; and I fear,I fear, Mother mine, that Igossip with my household upon the ways and dress and manners ofthese queer people from distant lands.I have been asked to join a society of European and Chinese ladiesfor the purpose of becoming acquainted one with the other, but I donot think that I will do so. I believe it impossible for the woman of theWest to form an alliance with the woman of the East that will bedeep-rooted. The thoughts within our hearts are different, as are ourpoints of view. We do not see the world through the same eyes. Theforeign woman has children like myself, but her ambitions and herideals for them are different. She has a home and a husband, but mytraining and my instincts give my home and my husband a differentplace in life than that which she gives to those of her household. Tome the words marriage, friendship, home, have a deeper meaningthan is attached to them by a people who live in hotels and publiceating-places, and who are continually in the homes of others. Theyhave no sanctity of the life within; there are no shrines set apart forthe family union, and the worship of the spirits of their ancestors. Icannot well explain to thee, the something intangible, the thick greymist that is always there to put its bar across the open door offriendship between the woman of the Occident and those of Orientalblood.I would ask of thee a favour I wish that thou wouldst search my roomsand find the clothing that is not needed by thy women. My house isfull to overflowing. I had no idea we had so many poor relations. Thepoor relation of our poor relation and the cousin of our cousin's cousinhave come to claim their kinship. Thy son will give no one officialposition nor allow them money from the public funds; but they musthave clothing and rice, and I provide it. I sometimes feel, when lookinginto the empty rice-bin, that I sympathize with His Excellency LiHung-chang who built a great house here, far from his home province.When asked why, unlike the Chinese custom, he builded so far fromkith and kin, he answered, "You have placed the finger upon thepulse-beat the first instant. I built it far away, hoping that all therelatives of my relatives who find themselves in need, might not findthe money where-with to buy a ticket in order to come and livebeneath my rooftree." (With us, they do not wait for tickets; they havestrong and willing feet.) I am afraid that His Excellency, although ofthe old China that I love, was touched with this new spirit of eachmember for himself that has come upon this country.It is the good of the one instead of the whole, as in the former times,and there is much that can be said upon both sides. The familyshould always stand for the members of the clan in the great crises oftheir lives, and help to care for them in days of poverty and old age. Itis not just that one should prosper while others of the same bloodstarve; yet it is not just that one should provide for those unwilling tohelp themselves. I can look back with eyes of greater knowledge toour home, and I fear that there are many eating from the bowl ofcharity who might be working and self-respecting if they were notmembers of the great family Liu, and so entitled to thy help.It is the hour for driving with the children. We all are thine and think ofthee each day.Kwei-li.3My Mother,I have such great news to tell thee that I hardly know where to begin.But, first, I will astonish thee-- Ting-fang is home! Yes, I can hear theesay, "Hi yah!" And I said it many times when, the evening before last,after thy son and the men of the house-hold had finished the eveningmeal, and I and the women were preparing to eat our rice, we saw adarkness in the archway, and standing there was my son. Not one ofus spoke a word; we were as if turned to stone; as we thought of himas in far-off America, studying at the college of Yale. But here hestood in real life, smiling at our astonishment. He slowly looked at usall, then went to his father and saluted him respectfully, came andbowed before me, then took me in his arms in a most disrespectfulmanner and squeezed me together so hard he nearly broke mybones. I was so frightened and so pleased that of course I could onlycry and cling to this great boy of mine whom I had not seen for sixlong years. I held him away from me and looked long into his face. Heis a man now, twenty-one years old, a big, strong man, taller than hisfather. I can hardly reach his shoulder. He is straight and slender, andlooks an alien in his foreign dress, yet when I looked into his eyes Iknew it was mine own come to me again.No one knows how all my dreams followed this bird that left the nest.No one knows how long seemed the nights when sleep would notcome to my eyes and I wondered what would come to my boy in thatfar-off land, a strange land with strange, unloving people, who wouldnot care to put him on the pathway when he strayed. Thourememberest how I battled with his father in regard to sending him toEngland to commence his foreign education. I said, "Is not four yearsof college in America enough? Why four years' separation to prepareto go to that college? He will go from me a boy and return a man. I willlose my son." But his father firmly said that the English publicschools gave the ground-work for a useful life. He must form his codeof honour and his character upon the rules laid down for centuries bythe English, and then go to America for the education of the intellect,to learn to apply the lessons learned in England. He did not want hisson to be all for present success, as is the American, or to be all fortradition, as is the Englishman, but he thought the two might find ahappy meeting-place in a mind not yet well formed.But thoughts of learning did not assuage the pain in my mother-heart.I had heard of dreadful things happening to our Chinese boys who aresent abroad to get the Western knowledge. Often they marry strangewomen who have no place in our life if they return to China, and wholose their birthright with the women of their race by marrying aChinese. Neither side can be blamed, certainly not our boys. They gothere alone, often with little money. They live in houses where theyare offered food and lodging at the cheapest price. They are not in aposition to meet women of their own class, and being boys they cravethe society of girls. Perhaps the daughter of the woman who keepsthe lodging-house speaks to them kindly, talks to them in the eveningwhen they have no place to go except to a lonely, ugly room; or thegirl in the shop where they buy their clothing smiles as she wraps forthem their packages. Such attentions would be passed by without athought at ordinary times, but now notice means much to a heart thatis trying hard to stifle its loneliness and sorrow, struggling to learn inan unknown tongue the knowledge of the West; in lieu of mother,sister, or sweetheart of his own land, the boy is insensibly drawn intoa net that tightens about him, until he takes the fatal step and bringsback to his mother a woman of an alien race.One sorrows for the girl, whatever may be her station, as she doesnot realize that there is no place for her in all the old land of China.She will be scorned by those of foreign birth, and she can neverbecome one of us. Dost thou remember the wife of Wang, thesecretary of the embassy at London? He was most successful andwas given swift promotion until he married the English lady, whosefather was a tutor at one of the great colleges. It angered Her Majestyand he was recalled and given the small post of secretary to theTaotaiof our city. The poor foreign wife died alone within her Chinesehome, into which no friend had entered to bid her welcome. Some saythat after many moons of solitude and loneliness she drank the strongdrink of her country to drown her sorrow. Perhaps it was a bridge onwhich she crossed to a land filled with the memories of the past whichbrought her solace in her time of desolation.Perhaps it was a bridge on which she crossed to a land filled with the memories of the past.But I have wandered, Mother mine; my mind has taken me toEngland, America, to Chinese men with foreign wives, and now I willreturn and tell thee of thine own again, and of my son who hasreturned to me. When at last the Gods gave us our breath, we askedthe many questions which came to us like a river that has broken allits bounds. Thy son, the father of Ting-fang, was more than angry-- hewas white with wrath, and demanded what Ting-fang did here when heshould have been at school. My son said, and I admired the way hespoke up boldly to his father, "Father, I read each day of the progressof the Revolution, of the new China that was being formed, and I couldnot stay on and study books while I might be helping here." His fathersaid, "Thy duty was to stay where I, thy father, put thee!" Ting-fanganswered, "Thou couldst not have sat still and studied of ancientGreece and Rome while thy country was fighting for its life;" and thenhe added, most unfilially, "I notice thou art not staying in Sezchuan,but art here in Shanghai, in the centre of things. I am thy son; I do notlike to sit quietly by the road and watch the world pass by; I want tohelp make that world, the same as thou."His father talked long and bitterly, and the boy was saddened, and Icrept silently to him and placed my hand in his. It was all I could do,for the moment, as it would not be seemly for me to take his partagainst his father, but-- I talked to thy son, my husband, when wewere alone within our chamber.The storm has passed. His father refused to make Ting-fang asecretary, as he says the time is past when officials fill theirYamenswith their relatives and friends. I think that as the days go on, he willrelent, as in these troublous times a high official cannot be sure of theloyalty of the men who eat his rice, and he can rely upon his son. ALiu was never known to be disloyal.There is too much agitation here. The officials try to ignore it as muchas possible, believing that muddy water is often made clear if allowedto stand still. Yet they must be ready to act quickly, as speedily asone springs up when a serpent is creeping into the lap, because nowthe serpent of treachery and ingratitude is in every household. Thesesecret plottings, like the weeds that thrust their roots deep into therice-fields, cannot be taken out without bringing with them some grain,and many an innocent family is now suffering for the hot-headednessof its youth.I sometimes think that I agree with the wise governor of the olden timewhose motto was to empty the minds of the people and fill theirstomachs, weaken their wills and strengthen their bones. When timeswere troublous he opened the government granaries and the crowdswere satisfied.But the people are different now; they have too much knowledge. Newambitions have been stirred; new wants created; a new spirit isabroad and, with mighty power, is over-turning and recasting the oldforms and deeply rooted customs. China is moving, and, we of the oldschool think, too quickly. She is going at a bound from the dim light ofthe bean-oil brazier to the dazzling brilliance of the electric light; fromthe leisured slowness of the wheelbarrow pushed by the patient coolieto the speed of the modern motor-car; from the practice of the seller ofherbs to the science of the modern doctor. We all feel that new Chinais at a great turning-point because she is just starting out on herjourney that may last many centuries, and may see its final struggleto-morrow. It is of great importance that the right direction shall betaken at first. A wrong turn at the beginning, and the true pathwaymay never be found. So much depends upon her leaders, on men likeYuan, Wu, and thy son, my husband; the men who point out the roadto those who will follow as wild fowl follow their leader. The Chinesepeople are keen to note disinterestedness, and if these men who haverisen up show that they have the good of the people at heart muchmay be done. If they have the corrupt heart of many of the old-timeofficials, China will remain as before, so far as the great mass of hermen are concerned.I hear the children coming from their school, so I will say good-by for atime. Ting-fang sends his most respectful love, and all my householdjoin in sending thee good wishes.Kwei-li.4My Dear Mother,Dost thou remember Liang Tai-tai, the daughter of the PrincessTseng, thine old friend of Pau-chau? Thou rememberest we used tolaugh at the pride of Liang in regard to her mother's clan, and her carein speaking of her father who was only a small official in the governor'sYamen. Thou wert wont to say that she reminded thee of the mulethat, when asked who was his father, answered, "The horse is mymaternal uncle." She comes to see me often, and she worries mewith her piety; she is quite mad upon the subject of the Gods. I oftenfeel that I am wrong to be so lacking in sympathy with her religiouslongings; but I hate extremes. "Extreme straightness is as bad ascrookedness, and extreme cleverness as bad as folly." She is everasking me if I do not desire, above all things, the life of the higherroad-- whatever that may mean. I tell her that I do not know. I wouldnot be rare, like jade, or common, like stone; just medium. Anyway,my days are far too full to think about any other road than the one Imust tread each day in the fulfillment of the duties the Gods havegiven me.Some people seem to be irreverently familiar with the Gods, and to beforever praying. If they would only be a little more human and performthe daily work that lies before them (Liang's son is the main support ofthe Golden Lotus Tea-house) they might let prayer alone a whilewithout ceasing to enjoy the protection of the Gods. It is dangerous toover-load oneself with piety, as the sword that is polished to excess issometimes polished away. And there is another side that Liangshould remember, her husband not having riches in abundance: thatthe rays of the Gods love well the rays of Gold.But to-day she came to me with her rice-bowl overflowing with hersorrows. Her son has returned from the foreign lands with the neweducation from which she hoped so much, but it seems he hasacquired knowledge of the vices of the foreigner to add to those of theChinese. He did not stay long enough to become Westernised, but hestayed long enough to lose touch with the people and the customs ofhis country. He forgets that he is not an American even with hisforeign education; he is still an Oriental and he comes back to anOriental land, a land tied down by tradition and custom, and he cannot adapt himself. He tries instead, to adapt China to hishalf-Europeanised way of thought, and he has failed. He has becomewhat my husband calls an agitator, a tea-house orator, and he seesnothing but wrong in his people. There is no place in life for him, andhe sits at night in public places, stirring foolish boys to deeds oftreason and violence. Another thing, he has learned to drink theforeign wines, and the mixture is not good. They will not blend withChinese wine, any more than the two civilisations will come togetheras one.Why did the Gods make the first draught of wine to curse the race ofmen, to make blind the reason, to make angels into devils and toleave a lasting curse on all who touch it? "It is a cataract that carrieshavoc with it in a road of mire where he who falls may never riseagain." It seems to me that he who drinks the wine of both landsallows it to become a ring that leads him to the Land of Nothing, andends as did my friend's son, with the small round ball of sleep thatgrows within the poppy. One morning's light, when he looked long intohis own face and saw the marks that life was leaving, he saw no wayexcept the Bridge of Death; but he was not successful.His mother brought him to me, as he has always liked me, and is afriend (for which I sorrow) of my son. I talked to him alone within aninner chamber, and tried to show to him the error of his way. I quotedto him the words spoken to another foolish youth who tried to forcethe gates of Heaven: "My son, thou art enmeshed within these world'sways, and have not cared to wonder where the stream would carrythee in coming days. If thou mere human duties scorn, as a wornsandal cast aside, thou art no man but stock-stone born, lost in aselfish senseless pride. If thou couldst mount to Heaven's high plain,then thine own will might be thy guide, but here on earth thou needsmust dwell. Thou canst well see that thou art not wanted in the Hallsof Heaven; so turn to things yet near; turn to thy earthly home and tryto do thy duty here. Thou must control thyself, there is no escapethrough the Eastern Gateway for the necessity of self-conquest."He wept and gave me many promises; and I showed him that Ibelieved in him, and saw his worth. But-- we think it wiser to send himfar away from his companions, who only seek to drag him down. Thyson will give to him a letter and ask the Prefect of Canton to give himwork at our expense.I felt it better that Liang Tai-tai should not be alone with her son forseveral hours, as her tongue is bitter and reproaches come easily toangry lips, so I took her with me to the garden of a friend outside thecity. It was the Dragon Boat Festival, when all the world goesriverward to send their lighted boats upon the waters searching for thesoul of the great poet who drowned himself in the olden time, andwhose body the jealous Water God took to himself and it nevermorewas found. Dost thou remember how we told the story to the childrenwhen the family all were with thee-- oh, it seems many moons ago.The garden of my friend was most beautiful, and we seemed within aworld apart. The way was through high woods and over long greenplots of grass and around queer rocks; there were flowers with storiesin their hearts, and trees who held the spirits of the air close 'neaththeir ragged covering. Pigeons called softly to their mates, and dovescooed and sobbed as they nestled one to the other. We showed thechildren the filial young crow who, when his parents are old andhelpless, feeds them in return for their care when he was young; andwe pointed out the young dove sitting three branches lower on the treethan do his parents, so deep is his respect.The garden of my friend was most beautiful.When the western sky was like a golden curtain, we went to thecanal, where the children set their tiny boats afloat, each with itslighted lantern. The wind cried softly through the bamboo-trees andfilled the sails of these small barks, whose lights flashed brightly fromthe waters as if the Spirits of the River laughed with joy.We returned home, happy, tired, but with new heart to start themorrow's work.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.5My Dear Mother,We are in the midst of a most perplexing problem, and one that ishard for us to cope with, as it is so utterly new. My children seem tohave formed an alliance amongst themselves in opposition to thewishes of their parents on all subjects touching the customs andtraditions of the family. My son, as thou rememberest, was betrothedin childhood to the daughter of his father's friend, the Governor ofChili-li. He is a man now, and should fulfill that most solemn obligationthat we, his parents, laid upon him-- and he refuses. I can see thee sitback aghast at this lack of filial spirit; and I, too, am aghast. I cannotunderstand this generation; I'm afraid that I cannot understand these,my children. My boy insists that he will marry a girl of his own choice,a girl with a foreign education like unto his own. We haveremonstrated, we have urged, we have commanded, and now at last acompromise has been effected. We have agreed that when shecomes to us, teachers shall be brought to the house and she shall betaught the new learning. Along with the duties of wife she shall seethe new life around her and from it take what is best for her to know.I can understand his desire to have a wife with whom he may talk ofthe things or common interest to them both, a wife who can sharewith him, at least in part, the life beyond the woman's courtyard. Iremember how I felt when thy son returned from foreign lands, filledwith new sights, new thoughts in which I could not share. I had beensitting quietly behind closed doors, and I felt that I could not help inthis new vision that had come to him. I could speak to only one sideof his life, when I wished to speak to all; but I studied, I learned, and,as far as it is possible for a Chinese woman, I have made my stepsagree with those or my husband, and we march close, side by side.My son would like his wife to be placed in a school, the school fromwhich my daughter has just now graduated; but I will not allow it. I amnot in favour of such schools for our girls. It has made or Wan-li ahalf-trained Western woman, a woman who finds music in the pianoinstead of the lute, who quotes from Shelley, and Wordsworth,instead of from the Chinese classics, who thinks embroidery work forservants, and the ordering of her household a thing beneath her greatmental status.I, of course, wish her to marry at once; as to me that is the holiestdesire of woman-- to marry and give men-- children to the world; but itseems that the word "marry" has opened the door to floods of talk towhich I can only listen in silent amazement. I never before hadrealised that I have had the honour of bearing children with suchtongues of eloquence; and I fully understand that I belong to a past, avery ancient past-- the Mings, from what I hear, are mycontemporaries. And all these words are poured upon me to try topersuade me to allow Wan-li to become a doctor. Canst thou imagineit? Adaughterof the house of Liu adoctor! From whence has shereceived these unseemly ideas except in this foreign school thatteaches the equality of the sexes to such an extent that ourdaughters want to compete with men in their professions! I am not somuch of the past as my daughter seems to think; for I believe, withincertain bounds, in the social freedom of our women; but whycommercial freedom? For centuries untold, men have been able tosupport their wives; why enter the market-places? Is it not enoughthat they take care of the home, that they train the children and fulfillthe duties of the life in which the Gods place women? My daughter isnot ugly, she is most beautiful; yet she says she will not marry. I tellher that when once her eyes are opened to the loved one, they will beclosed to all the world beside, and this desire to enter the great worldof turmoil and strife will flee like dew-drops before the summer's dawn.I also quoted her what I told Chih-peh many moons ago, when herefused to marry the wife thou hadst chosen for him: "Man attains notby himself, nor woman by herself, but like the one-winged birds of theancient legend, they must rise together."My daughter tossed her head and answered me that those weredoubtless words of great wisdom, but they were written by a man longdead, and it did not affect her ideas upon the subject ofhermarriage.We dare not insist, for we find, to our horror, that she has joined aband of girls who have made a vow, writing it with their blood, that,rather than become wives to husbands not of their own choice, theywill cross the River of Death. Fifteen girls, all friends of my daughter,and all of whom have been studying the new education for women,have joined this sisterhood; and we, their mothers, are in despair.What can we do? Shall we insist that they return to the old régimeand learn nothing but embroidery? Why can they not take what isbest for an Eastern woman from the learning of the West, as the beeselects honey from each flower, and leave the rest? It takes centuriesof training to change the habits and thoughts of a nation. It cannot bedone at once; our girls have not the foundation on which to build. Ourwomanhood has been trained by centuries of caressing care to lookas lovely as nature allows, to learn obedience to father as a child, tohusband as a wife, and to children when age comes with his frostyfingers.Yet we all know that the last is a theory only to be read in books.Where is there one so autocratic in her own home as a Chinesemother? She lives within its four walls, but there she is supreme. Hersons obey her even when their hair is touched with silver. Did not thyson have to ask thy leave before he would decide that he could gowith His Highness to the foreign lands? Did he not say frankly that hemust consult his mother, and was he not honoured and givenpermission to come to his home to have thy blessing? Dost thouremember when Yuan was appointed secretary to the embassy inLondon, and declined the honour because his mother was old and didnot wish her only son to journey o'er the seas; he gave up willinglyand cheerfully the one great opportunity of his life rather than bringsorrow to the one who bore him.A similar case came to our ears but a few days since. Some priestsof a foreign mission came to my husband and wished him tointercede, as Governor, and command theTaotaiof Soochow to sellto them a piece of land on which to erect a temple of their faith. WhentheTaotaiwas asked why he was so persistent in his refusal to carryout the promise of the man before him in the office, he told theGovernor that the temple where his mother worshipped was in a directline with the proposed new foreign house of worship. His motherfeared that a spire would be placed upon its rooftree that wouldintercept the good spirits of the air from bringing directly to her familyrooftree the blessings from the temple. My husband tried to persuadehim that the superstitions of a woman long in years should not standin the way of a possible quarrel with men of a foreign power, but theTaotaionly shrugged his shoulders and said, "What can I do? She ismy mother. I cannot go against her expressed commands;" and-- thetemple to the foreign God will not be built.She feared that a spire would intercept the good spirits of the air from bringing directly to her family rooftree the blessings from the temple.But it is as foolish to talk to Wan-li as "to ask the loan of a comb froma Buddhist nun." She will not listen; or, if she does, a smile lies in theopen lily of her face, and she bows her head in mock submission;then instantly lifts it again with new arguments learned from foreignbooks, and arguments that I in my ignorance cannot refute.I feel that I am alone on a strange sea with this, my household; and Iam in deadly fear that she will do some shocking thing, like thosegirls from the school in Foochow who, dressed in their brothers'clothing, came to Nanking and asked to be allowed to fight on theside of the Republic. Patriotism is a virtue, but the battle-field is man'splace. Let the women stay at home and make the bandages to bindthe wounded, and keep the braziers lighted to warm returning men.I will not write thee more of troubles, but I will tell thee that thy box ofclothing came and is most welcome; also the cooking oil, which gaveour food the taste of former days. The oils and sauces bought atshops are not so pure as those thy servants make within thecompound, nor does the cook here prepare things to my taste. Canstsend me Feng-yi, who understands our customs? Thy son has nogreat appetite, and I hope that food prepared in homely ways maytempt him to linger longer at the table. He is greatly over-worked, andif he eat not well, with enjoyment of his rice, the summer will quitelikely find him ill.Thy daughter and thy family who touch thy hand,Kwei-li6My Dear Mother,Thy letter came, and I thank thee for thy advice. It is most difficult toact upon. I cannot shut Wan-li within an inner chamber, nor can Ikeep her without rice until she sees the wisdom of her ways. Thetimes are truly different; we mothers of the present have lost ourpower to control our children, and cannot as in former days compelobedience. I can only talk to her; she laughs. I quote to her the wordsof the Sage: "Is any blessing better than to give a man a son, man'sprime desire by which he and his name shall live beyond himself; afoot for him to stand on, a hand to stop his falling, so that in his son'syouth he will be young again, and in his strength be strong." Be themother of men; and I hear that, that is China's trouble. She has toomany children, too many thousands of clutching baby fingers, toomany tiny mouths asking for their daily food. I am told, by this learneddaughter of mine, that China has given no new thing to the world formany tens of centuries. She has no time to write, no time to think ofnew inventions; she must work for the morrow's rice. "How have youeaten?" Is the salutation that one Chinese makes to another whenmeeting on a pathway; and in that question is the root of our greatestneed. I am told that we are a nation of rank materialists; that we prayonly for benefits that we may feel or see, instead of asking for theblessings of the Spirit to be sent us from above; that the women of mytime and kind are the ruin of the country, with our cry of sons, sons!But if our girls flaunt motherhood, if this thought of each one forhimself prevails, what will become of us, a nation that depends uponits worship of the ancestors for its only practical religion? Theloosening of the family bonds, the greater liberty of the single person,means the lessening of the restraining power of this old religion whichdepends upon the family life and the unity of that life. To do away withit is to do away with the greatest influence for good in China to-day.What will become of the filial piety that has been the backbone of ourcountry? This family life has always been, from time immemorial, thefoundation-stone of our Empire, and filial piety is the foundation-stoneof the family life.I read not long since, in the Christian's Sacred Book, thecommandment, "Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days maybe long in the land which the Lord thy God hath given thee," and Ithought that perhaps in the observance of that rule is to be found oneof the chief causes for the long continuance of the Chinese Empire.What is there to compare in binding power to the family customs ofour people? Their piety, their love one for the other and that to which itleads, the faithfulness of husband to his wife-- all these, in spite ofwhat may be said against them by the newer generation, do exist andmust influence the nation for its good. And this one great fact must becounted amongst the forces, if it is not the greatest force, which bindthe Chinese people in bonds strong as ropes of twisted bamboo.Our boys and girls will not listen; they are trying to be what they arenot, trying to wear clothes not made for them, trying to be like nationsand people utterly foreign to them; and they will not succeed. But,"into a sack holding ari, only ariwill go," and these sacks of ouryoung people are full to overflowing with this, which seems to medearly acquired knowledge, and there is not room for more. Time willhelp, and they will learn caution and discretion in life's halls ofexperience, and we can only guard their footsteps as best we may.In the meantime, Mother mine, my days are full and worried, and I, asin the olden time, can only come to thee with my rice-bowl filled withtroubles and pour them all into thy kindly lap. It is my only comfort, asthy son is bitter and will not talk with patience, and it would not beseemly for me to open wide my heart to strangers; but I know thoulovest me and art full of years and knowledge and will help me find theway.Kwei-li.7My Dear Mother,These are most troublous times, and thy son is harassed to the vergeof sickness. Shanghai is filled with Chinese who come seeking foreignprotection. Within the narrow confines of the foreign settlements, it issaid, there are nearly a million Chinese, half of them refugees fromtheir home provinces, fearing for their money or their lives, or both.The great red houses on the fashionable streets, built by the Englishfor their homes, are sold at fabulous prices to these gentlemen, whohave brought their families and their silver to the only place they knowwhere the foreign hand is strong enough to protect them from theirown people. There are many queer tales; some are simply the breathof the unkind winds that seem to blow from nowhere but gain involume with each thing they touch. Tan Toatai, who paid 300,000taelsfor his position asToataiof Shanghai, and who left for his homeprovince with 3,000,000taels, as the gossips say, was asked tocontribute of his plenty for the help of the new government. Hepromised; then changed his mind, and carefully gathered all histreasures together and left secretly one night for Shanghai. Now he isin fear for his life and dares not leave the compound walls of theforeigner who has befriended him.It makes one wonder what is the use of these fortunes that bringendless sorrow by the misery of winning them, guarding them, andthe fear of losing them. They who work for them are as the waterbuffalo who turns the water-wheel and gets but his daily food and thestraw-thatched hut in which he rests. For the sake of this food andlodging which falls to the lot of all, man wastes his true happinesswhich is so hard to win.These Chinese of the foreign settlements seem alien to me. Yuancalled upon thy son the other day, and had the temerity to ask forme-- a most unheard-of thing. I watched him as he went away,dressed in European clothes, as nearly all of our younger men areclothed these days, and one would never know that he had worn hishair otherwise than short. There are no more neatly plaited braidshanging down the back, and the beautiful silks and satins, furs andpeacock feathers are things of the past. These peacock feathers,emblems of our old officialdom, are now bought by foreign ladies as atrimming on their hats. Shades of Li Hung-chang and ChangChih-tung! What will they say if looking over the barriers they see theinsignia of their rank and office gracing the glowing head-gear of thetourists who form great parties and come racing from over the seas tolook at us as at queer animals from another world?It is not only the men who are copying the foreign customs andclothing. Our women are now seen in public, driving with theirhusbands, or walking arm in arm upon the public street. I even saw aChinese woman driving that "devil machine," a motor-car, with her ownhands. She did not seem a woman, but an unsexed thing that had aslittle of woman-hood as the car that took her along so swiftly. Ipromised to send Tah-li the new hair ornaments, but there are no hairornaments worn now. The old jewels are laid aside, the jade andpearls are things of the past. The hair is puffed and knotted in a waymost unbecoming to the face. It is neither of the East nor of the West,but a half-caste thing, that brands its wearer as a woman of no race.Dost thou remember the story over which the Chinese in all theEmpire laughed within their sleeves? Her Majesty, the EmpressDowager, was on most friendly terms with the wife of the Minister ofthe United States of America, and on one occasion gave her as a gifta set of combs enclosed within a box of silver. The foreign lady wasdelighted, and did not see the delicate sarcasm hidden within thepresent. Combs-- the foreign ladies need them! We Chinese like thelocks most smoothly brushed and made to glisten and shine with thescented elm, but they, the foreign ladies, allow them to straggle inrude disorder around their long, grave faces, which are so ugly in oureyes.Thou hast asked me for the latest style in dress. It is impossible tosay what is the latest style. Some women wear a jacket far too shortand trousers tight as any coat sleeve. The modest ones still coverthem with skirts; but I have seen women walking along the street whoshould certainly stay within the inner courtyard and hide their shame.For those who wear the skirt, the old, wide-pleated model has goneby, and a long black skirt that is nearly European is now worn. It isnot graceful, but it is far better than the trousers worn by women whowalk along so stiffly upon their "golden lilies." These tiny feet to meare beautiful, when covered with gay embroidery they peep fromscarlet skirts; but they too are passing, and we hear no more thecrying of the children in the courtyards. I am told that the small-footedwoman of China is of the past, along with the long finger-nails of ourgentlemen and scholars; and I am asked why I do not unbind my feet.I say, "I am too old; I have suffered in the binding, why suffer in theunbinding?" I have conceded to the new order by allowing unboundfeet to all my girls, and everywhere my family is held up as anexample of the new Chinese. They do not know of the many bittertears I have shed over the thought that my daughters would look likewomen of the servant class and perhaps not make a good marriage;but I was forced to yield to their father, whose foreign travel had taughthim to see beauty in ugly, natural feet. Even now, when I see Wan-listriding across the grass, I blush for her and wish she could walkmore gracefully. My feet caused me many moons of pain, but theyare one of the great marks of my lady-hood, and I yet feel proud as Icome into a room with the gentle swaying motions of the bamboo in abreeze; although my daughter who supports me takes one great stepto five of mine.The curse of foot binding does not fall so heavily upon women likemyself, who may sit and broider the whole day through, or, if needsmust travel, can be borne upon the shoulders of their chair bearers,but it is a bane to the poor girl whose parents hope to have one in thefamily who may marry above their station, and hoping thus, bind herfeet. If this marriage fails and she is forced to work within herhousehold, or, even worse, if she is forced to toil within the fields oradd her mite gained by most heavy labour to help fill the many eagermouths at home, then she should have our pity. We have all seen thesmall-footed woman pulling heavy boats along the tow-path, or leaningon their hoes to rest their tired feet while working in the fields ofcotton. To her each day is a day of pain; and this new law forbiddingthe binding of the feet of children will come as Heaven's blessing. Butit will not cease at once, as so many loudly now proclaim. It will takeat least three generations; her children's children will all quite likelyhave natural feet. The people far in the country, far from the noise ofchange and progress, will not feel immediately that they can wanderso far afield from the old ideas of what is beautiful in their womanhood.I notice, as I open wide my casement, that the rain has come, andacross the distant fields it is falling upon the new-sown rice andseems to charm the earth into the thought that spring is here, bringingforth the faint green buds on magnolia, ash, and willow. Dost thouremember the verse we used to sing:"Oh she is good, the little rain, and well she knows our need,Who cometh in the time of spring to aid the sun-drawn seed.She wanders with a friendly wind through silent heights unseen,The furrows feel her happy tears, and lo, the land is green!"I must send a servant with the rain coverings for the children, that theymay not get wet in returning from their schools.We greet thee, all.Kwei-li.8My Dear Mother,Last night I heard a great wailing in the servants' courtyard, and foundthere the maid of thy old friend, Tang Tai-tai. She came from Nankingto us, as she has no one left in all the world. She is a Manchu andhas lived all her life in the Manchu family of Tang within the Tartar cityof Nanking. It seems the soldiers, besieging the city, placed theirguns on Purple Hill, so that they would cause destruction only to theTartar city, and it was levelled to the ground. No stone remains uponanother; and the family she had served so faithfully were either killedin the battle that raged so fiercely, or were afterward taken to thegrounds of Justice to pay with their life for the fact that they belongedto the Imperial Clan. She is old, this faithful servant, and now claimsmy protection. It is another mouth to feed; but there is so muchunhappiness that if it were within my power I would quench with rainsof food and drink the anguish this cruel war has brought upon somany innocent ones. A mat on which to sleep, a few more bowls ofrice, these are the only seeds that I may sow within the field of love,and I dare not them withhold.I am most sorrowful for these poor Manchus. For generations theyhave received a pension from the government; to every man-child anallowance has been made; and now they find themselves withnothing. Even their poor homes are piles of stone and rubbish. Whatwill they do to gain their food in this great country which is already fullto over-flowing? They are so pitiful, these old men and women thrownso suddenly upon the world. Their stories pierce my marrow, and Iwould that my sleeve were long and wide enough to cover all the earthand shelter these poor helpless ones. One old man-- his years musthave been near eighty-- came to our door for help. I talked to him andfound that, until his sons were killed before his eyes, his home torn tothe ground, he had never been without the city's walls. He said, justlike a child, "Why should I go? My wife, my sons, my home, my all,were within the walls; why go outside?"He had never been without the city's walls.Each hour brings us fresh rumours of the actions of the rebels, PoorLiang Tai-tai was here and in the sorest trouble. Her husband and herbrother were officers in the army of Yuan, and when in Ranking wereshot along with twenty of their brother officers, because they wouldnot join the Southern forces. To add to China's trouble, the Southernpirates are attacking boats; and I am glad to say, although it soundsmost cruel, that the government is taking measures both quick andjust. Ten men were captured and were being brought by an Englishship to Canton, and when in neutral waters it is said a Chinesegunboat steamed alongside with an order for the prisoners. As theystepped upon the Chinese boat, each man was shot. The Englishwere most horrified, and have spoken loudly in all the papers of theacts of barbarism; but they do not understand our people. They mustbe frightened; especially at a time like this, when men are watchingfor the chance to take advantage of their country's turmoil.These pirates of Canton have always been a menace. Each village inthat country must be forever on the defensive, for no man is safe whohas an ounce of gold. When father was the prefect of Canton, Iremember seeing a band of pirates brought into theYamen, a ring ofiron around the collarbone, from which a chain led to the prisoner oneither side. It was brutal, but it allowed no chance of escape for thesemen, dead to all humanity, and desperate, knowing there awaitedthem long days of prison, and in the end they knew not what.In those days imprisonment was the greatest of all evils; it was notmade a place of comfort. For forty-eight long hours, the man withinthe clutches of the law went hungry; then, if no relative or friend cameforth to feed him, he was allowed one bowl of rice and water for eachday. A prison then meant ruin to a man with money, because thekeepers of the outer gate, the keepers of the inner gate, the guardianof the prison doors, the runners in the corridor, the jailer at the cell,each had a hand that ached for silver. A bowl of rice bought at thetea-shop for tencash, by the time the waiting hungry man received it,cost many silver dollars. Yet a prison should not be made a temptingplace of refuge and vacation; if so in times of cold and hunger it will befilled with those who would rather suffer shame than work.Another thing the people who cry loudly against our old-time Courts ofJustice do not understand, is the crushing, grinding, naked povertythat causes the people in this over-crowded province to commit mostbrutal deeds. The penalties must match the deeds, and frighten otherevil-doers. If the people do not fear death, what good is there in usingdeath as a deterrent; and our Southern people despise death,because of their excessive labour in seeking the means of life. But--what a subject for a letter! I can see thee send for a cup of thy fragrantsun-dried tea, mixed with the yellow flower of the jessamine, to takeaway the thoughts of death and evil and the wickedness of the worldoutside thy walls. It will never touch thee, Mother mine, because theGods are holding thee all safe within their loving hands.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.9My Mother,I have most joyful news to tell thee. My father has arrived! He camequite without warning, saying he must know the changing times fromword of mouth instead of reading it in papers. He has upset myhousehold with his many servants. My father keeps to his old waysand customs and travels with an army of his people. His pipe man,his hat man, his cook, his boy-- well, thou rememberest when hedescended upon us in Sezchuan-- yet he could bring ten times thenumber, and his welcome would be as warm. The whole town knowshe is our guest, and foreigners and Chinese have vied one with theother to do him honour. The foreign papers speak of him as "thegreatest Chinese since Li Hung-chang," and many words are writtenabout his fifty years' service as a high official. The story is retold of hisloyalty to Her Majesty at the time of the Boxer uprising, when hethreatened the foreigners that if Her Majesty was even frightened, hewould turn his troops upon Shanghai and drive the foreigners into thesea. I wonder if the present government can gain the love the DowagerEmpress drew from all who served her.My father was the pioneer of the present education, so say thepapers, and it is remembered that his school for girls in the provincewhere he ruled, nearly caused him the loss of his position, as HisExcellency, Chang Chih-tung, memorialised the throne and said thatwomen should not have book learning; that books would only givethem a place in which to hide their threads and needles. It is also saidof him that he was always against the coming of the foreigners. Theycould obtain no mine, no railway, no concession in a province wherehe was representing his Empress. China was closed, so far as laywithin his power, to even men of religion from other lands. It was hewho first said, "The missionary, the merchant, and then the gunboat."My father will not talk with men about the present trials of China; hesays, most justly, that he who is out of office should not meddle inthe government. When asked if he will give the results of his long lifeand great experience to the Republic, he answers that he owes hislove and loyalty to the old régime under which he gained his wealthand honours; and then he shakes his head and says he is an oldman, nothing but wet ashes. But they do not see the laughter in hiseyes; for my father "is like the pine-tree, ever green, the symbol ofunflinching purpose and vigorous old age."So many old-time friends have been to see him. Father, now that theheavy load of officialdom is laid aside, delights to sit within thecourtyards with these friends and play at verse-making. No man of histime is found lacking in that one great attribute of a Chinesegentleman. He has treasures of poetry that are from the hands offriends long since passed within the Vale of Longevity. These poemsare from the pens of men who wrote of the longing for the spiritual life,or the beauties of the world without their doors, or the pleasure ofassociation with old and trusted friends. I read some scrolls the otherday, and it was as though "aeolian harps had caught some strayedwind from an unknown world and brought its messages to me." It isonly by the men of other days that poetry is appreciated, who takethe time to look around them, to whom the quiet life, the life of thoughtand meditation is as vital as the air they breathe. To love the beautifulin life one must have time to sit apart from the worry and the rush ofthe present day. He must have time to look deep within his hiddenself and weigh the things that count for happiness; and he must usemost justly all his hours of leisure, a thing which modern life hastaught us to hold lightly.But with our race verse-making has always been a second nature. Inthe very beginning of our history, the Chinese people sang their songsof kings and princes, of the joys of family life and love and home andchildren. It is quite true that they did not delve deep into the mines ofhidden passions, as their songs are what songs should be, tellingjoyful tales of happiness and quiet loves. They are not like the songsof warrior nations, songs of battle, lust and blood, but songs of peaceand quiet and deep contentment. When our women sang, like allwomen who try to voice the thoughts within them, they sang theirpoems in a sadder key, all filled with care, and cried of love's call toits mate, of resignation and sometimes of despair.My father learned to love the poets in younger days, but he still readsthem o'er and o'er. He says they take him back to other years whenlife with all its dreams of beauty, love, and romance, lay before him. Itbrings remembrance of youth's golden days when thoughts of fameand mad ambition came to him with each morning's light. This fatherof mine, who was stiffly bound with ceremony and acts of statecraftfor ten long months of the year, had the temerity to ask two months'leave of absence from his duties, when he went to his country place inthe hills, to his "Garden of the Pleasure of Peace." It was always inthe early spring when "that Goddess had spread upon the buddingwillow her lovely mesh of silken threads, and the rushes wererenewing for the year." He sat beneath the bamboos swaying in thewind like dancing girls, and saw the jessamine and magnolia put forththeir buds.What happy days they were when father came! For me, who livedwithin the garden all the year, it was just a plain, great garden; butwhen he came it was transformed. It became a place of rareenchantment, with fairy palaces and lakes of jewelled water, and thelotus flowers took on a loveliness for which there is no name. Wewould sit hand in hand in our gaily painted tea-house, and watch thegrowing of the lotus from the first unfurling of the leaf to the fall of thedying flower. When it rained, we would see the leaves raise theireager, dark-green cups until filled, then bend down gracefully to emptytheir fulness, and rise to catch the drops again.In our gaily painted tea-house, and watch the growing of the lotus.The sound of the wind in the cane-fields came to us at night-time aswe watched the shimmer of the fireflies. We sat so silently that theonly thing to tell us that the wild duck sought his mate amidst thegrass, was the swaying of the reed stems, or the rising of the tealwith whirring wings.My father loved the silence, and taught me that it is in silence, in thequiet places, rather than on the house-tops, that one can hear thespirit's call, and forget the clanging of the world. It is the great giftwhich the God of nature alone can give, and "he has found happinesswho has won through the stillness of the spirit the Perfect Vision, andthis stillness comes through contentment that is regardless of theworld."He often said to me that we are a caravan of beings, wanderingthrough life's pathways, hungering to taste of happiness, which comesto us when we find plain food sweet, rough garments fine, andcontentment in the home. It comes when we are happy in a simpleway, allowing our wounds received in life's battles to be healed by themoon-beams, which send an ointment more precious than the oil ofsandalwood.I could go on for pages, Mother mine, of the lessons of my father, thisgrand old man, "who steeled his soul and tamed his thoughts and gothis body in control by sitting in the silence and being one with nature,God, the maker of us all." And when I think of all these things, it ishard to believe that men who love the leisure, the poetry, the beautifulthings of life, men like my father, must pass away. It seems to me itwill be a day of great peril for China, for our young ones, when thesemen of the past lose their hold on the growing mind. As rapidly as thistakes place, the reverence for the old-time gentleman, the quiet ladyof the inner courtyards, will wane, and reverence will be supplanted bydiscourtesy, faith by doubt, and love of the Gods by unbelief andimpiety.Yet they say he does not stand for progress. What is progress? Whatis life? The poet truly cries: "How short a time it is that we are here!Why then not set our hearts at rest, why wear the soul with anxiousthoughts? If we want not wealth, if we want not power, let us stroll thebright hours as they pass, in gardens midst the flowers, mounting thehills to sing our songs, or weaving verses by the lily ponds. Thus maywe work out our allotted span, content with life, our spirits free fromcare."My father has a scroll within his room that says:"For fifty years I plodded through the vale of lust and strife,Then through my dreams there flashed a ray of the old sweet peacefullife.No scarlet tasselled hat of state can vie with soft repose;Grand mansions do not taste the joys that the poor man's cabinknows.I hate the threatening clash of arms when fierce retainers throng,I loathe the drunkard's revels and the sound of fife and song;But I love to seek a quiet nook, and some old volume bring,Where I can see the wild flowers bloom and hear the birds in spring."Ah, dear one, my heart flows through my pen, which is themessenger of the distant soul to thee, my Mother.Kwei-li.10My Dear Mother,My days are passed like a water-wheel awhirl, and I can scarcely findtime to attend to the ordinary duties of my household. I fear I seemneglectful of thee, and I will try to be more regular with my letters, sothat thou wilt not need reproach me. To-night my house is quiet andall are sleeping, and I can chat with thee without the manyinterruptions that come from children, servants, and friends during thewaking hours.I have had callers all the day; my last, the wife of the JapaneseConsul, who brought with her two children. They were like littlebutterflies, dressed in their gay kimonas and bright redobis, theirstraight black hair framing their tiny elfin faces. I was delighted andcould scarcely let them go. Their mother says she will send to metheir photographs, and I will send them to thee, as they seem childrenfrom another world. They are much prettier, in my eyes, than theforeign children, with their white hair and colourless, blue eyes, whoalways seem to be clothed in white. That seems not natural for achild, as it is our mourning colour, and children should wear gaycolours, as they are symbols of joy and gladness.My husband watched them go away with looks of hatred and disdainwithin his eyes, and when I called them Butterflies of Gay Nippon, hegave an ejaculation of great disgust, as at this time he is not o'erfondof the Japanese. He believes, along with others, that they are helpingthe rebels with their money, and we know that many Japaneseofficers are fighting on the side of the Southern forces. He could notforget the words I used, "Dainty Butterflies," and he said that thesedainty butterflies are coming far too fast, at the rate of many tens ofthousands each year, and they must be fed and clothed and lodged,and Japan is far too small. These pretty babies searching for a futurehome are China's greatest menace. Japan reels that her destiny lieshere in the Far East, where she is overlord, and will continue as suchuntil the time, if it ever comes, when new China, with her far greaterwealth and her myriads of people, dispute the power of the littleIsland. At present there is no limit to Japan's ambition. Poor China! Itwill take years and tens of years to mould her people into a nation;and Japan comes to her each year, buying her rice, her cotton andher silk.These wily merchants travel up her path-ways and traverse her riversand canals, selling, buying, and spreading broadcast their influence.There are eight thousand men of Japan in Shanghai, keen young men,all looking for the advantage of their country. There is no town of anysize where you cannot find a Japanese. They have driven the tradersof other nationalities from many places; the Americans especiallyhave been compelled to leave; and now there is a bitter strugglebetween the people from the British Isles and the Japanese for thetrade of our country. In the olden time the people from Great Britaincontrolled the trade of our Yang-tse Valley, but now it is almost whollyJapanese.The British merchant, in this great battle has the disadvantage ofbeing honest, while the trader from Japan has small thoughts ofhonesty to hold him to a business transaction. We say here, "One

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