Part 12 (1/2)
”Nothing would please me more,” I answered. ”When may I do so?”
”Could you come to-morrow morning?” she inquired.
”With pleasure; at what time?”
”I will send my cart for you.”
The following morning the Prince's cart appeared. It was lined with fur, upholstered in satin, furnished with cus.h.i.+ons, and encircled by a red band which indicated the rank of its owner. A venerable eunuch, the head of the palace servants, preceded it as an outrider, and a.s.sisted me in mounting and dismounting, while the driver in red-ta.s.selled hat walked decorously by the side.
The school occupies a large court in the palace grounds. Another evidence of Western influence in the same court is a large two-story house of foreign architecture where the Prince receives his guests.
Prince Su was the first to have this foreign reception hall, but he has been followed in this respect by other officials and princes as well as by the Empress Dowager.
”This is not unlike our foreign compounds,” I remarked to the Princess as we entered the court.
”Yes,” she replied, ”the Prince does not care to have the court paved, but prefers to have it sodded and filled with flowers and shrubs.”
The school building was evidently designed for that purpose, being light and airy with the whole southern exposure made into windows, and covered with a thin white paper which gives a soft, restful light and shuts out the glare of the sun. The floor is covered with a heavy rope matting while the walls are hung with botanical, zoological and other charts. Besides the usual furniture for a well-equipped schoolroom, it was heated with a foreign stove, had gla.s.s cases for their embroidery and drawing materials, and a good American organ to direct them in singing, dancing and calisthenics.
I arrived at recess. The Princess took me into the teacher's den, which was cut off from the main room by a beautifully carved screen. Here I was introduced to the j.a.panese lady teacher and served with tea. She spoke no English and but little Chinese, and the embarra.s.sment of our effort to converse was only relieved by the ringing of the bell for school. The pupils, consisting of the secondary wives and daughters of the Prince, his son's wife, and the wives and daughters of his dead brother who make their home with him, entered in an orderly way and took their seats. When the teacher came into the room the ladies all arose and remained standing until she took her place before her desk and made a low bow to which they all responded in unison. This is the custom in all of the schools I have visited. Even where the superintendent is Chinese, the pupils stand and make a low j.a.panese bow at the beginning and close of each recitation.
”How long has the school been in session?” I asked the Princess.
”Three and a half months,” she replied.
”And they have done all this embroidery and painting in that time?”
”They have, and in addition have pursued their Western studies,” she explained.
In arithmetic the teacher placed the examples on the board, the pupils worked them on their slates, after which each was called upon for an explanation, which she gave in j.a.panese. While this cla.s.s was reciting the Prince came in and asked if we might not have calisthenics, evidently thinking that I would enjoy the drill more than the mathematics. It was interesting to see those Manchu ladies stand and go through a thorough physical drill to the tune of a lively march on a foreign organ. The j.a.panese are masters in matters of physical drill, and in the schools I have visited I have been pleased at the quiet dignity, and the reserve force and sweetness of their j.a.panese teachers. The precision and unanimity with which orders were executed both surprised and delighted me. Everything about these schools was good except the singing, which was excruciatingly poor. The Chinese have naturally clear, sweet voices, with a tendency to a minor tone, which, with proper training, admit of fair development. But the j.a.panese teacher dragged and sang in a nasal tone, in which the pupils followed her, evidently thinking it was proper Western music. I was rather amused to see the younger pupils go through a dignified dance or march to the familiar strains of ”Shall we gather at the river,” which the eldest daughter played on the organ.
”The young ladies do not comb their hair in the regular Manchu style,”
I observed to the Princess.
”No,” she answered, ”we do not think that best. It is not very convenient, and so we have them dress it in the small coil on top of the head as you see. Neither do we allow them to wear flowers in their hair, nor to paint or powder, or wear shoes with centre elevations on the soles. We try to give them the greatest possible convenience and comfort.”
They were proud of their bits of crocheting and embroidery, each of which was marked with the name of the person who did it and the date when it was completed. Many of them were made of pretty silk thread in a very intricate pattern, though I admired their drawing and painting still more.
”Of what does their course of study consist?” I asked the Princess.
She went to the wall and took down a neat gilt frame which contained their curriculum, and which she asked her eldest daughter to copy for me. They had five studies each day, six days of the week, Sunday being a holiday. They began with arithmetic, followed it up with j.a.panese language, needlework, music and calisthenics, then took Chinese language, drawing, and Chinese history with the writing of the ideographs of their own language, which was one of the most difficult tasks they had to perform. The dignified way in which the pupils conducted themselves, the respect which they showed their teacher, and the way in which they went about their work, delighted me. The discipline it gave them, the self-respect it engendered, and the power of acquisition that came with it were worth more perhaps than the knowledge they acquired, useful as that information must have been.
The Princess Ka-la-chin, the fifth sister of Prince Su, is married to the Mongolian Prince Ka-la. It is a rule among the Manchus that no prince can marry a princess of their own people, but like the Emperor himself, must seek their wives from among the unt.i.tled. These ladies after their marriage are raised to the rank of their husbands. It is the same with the daughters of a prince. Their husbands must come from among the people, but unlike the princes they cannot raise them to their own rank, and so their children have no place in the imperial clan. Many of the princesses therefore prefer to marry Mongolian princes, by which they retain their rank as well as that of their children.
Naturally a marriage of this kind brings changes into the life of the princess. She has been brought up in a palace in the capital, lives on Chinese food, and is not inured to hards.h.i.+ps. When she marries a Mongol prince, she is taken to the Mongolian plains, is not infrequently compelled to live in a tent, and her food consists largely of milk, b.u.t.ter, cheese and meat, most of which are an abomination to the Chinese. They especially loathe b.u.t.ter and cheese, and not infrequently speak of the foreigner smelling like the Mongol--an odour which they say is the result of these two articles of diet.
Prince Su's fifth sister was fortunate in being married to a Mongol prince who was not a nomad. He had established a sort of village capital of his possessions, the chief feature of which was his own palace. Here he lives during the summers and part of the winters; though once in three years he is compelled to spend at least three months in his palace in Peking when he comes to do homage to the Emperor.
During one of these visits to Peking the Princess sent for me to come to her palace. I naturally supposed she was ill, and so took with me my medical outfit, but her first greeting was:
”I am not ill, nor is any member of my family, but I wanted to see you to have a talk with you about foreign countries.”