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THE   CHINESE  THEATER 


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I 


THE 

CHINESE  THEATER 


BY 

A.   E.  ZUCKER 

Prafusor  of  Compcratiee  Literature,  Universily  of  Maryland 

Form  -        '  ■-■•'anl  Professor  of  English , 

i  .  ion  Medical  College 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON 

LfTTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

MCMXX^ 


A    GENERAL 
Chinese  Character  Type 


?   ' 


THE 

CHINESE  THEATER 


BY 

A.   E.  ZUCKER 

Professor  oj  Comparative  Literature,  University  of  Maryland 

Formerly,  Assistant  Professor  of  English, 

Peking  Union  Medical  College 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


63^9 

BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

MCMXXV 


Copyright,  1925, 
By  LiTTtE,  Brown,  and  Company. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  November,  19*5 


792.  09S/ 
7L 


PRINTED   IN  THE  OMITED  STATES  OF  AHEEICA 

\ 


w  /  ;.. 


To 


MY  WIFE,  LOIS    MILES 


=L!=[?[!g  [2Q=C£F 


PREFACE 


>^<--r-7'HE  genial  Reverend  Arthur  Smith  in  his 
"  Village  Life  in  China "  says  that  the 
Chinese  sometimes  finds  it  hard  to  under- 
'  stand  the  Westerner.  As  an  instance 
;he  cites  the  case  of  a  tired  traveler 
who  stops  at  an  inn  for  the  night  and  is  told  that 
there  will  be  theatricals  in  the  evening.  Instead 
of  sharing  the  glee  of  the  natives,  he  gathers  his 
tired  self  together  and  hurries  on  to  the  next  village 
that  he  may  enjoy  his  sleep  far  away  from  sounding 
brass  and  clanging  *  cymbal.  Possibly  this  explains 
why  among  all  the  books  written  on  China  compara- 
tively few  concern  themselves  with  the  theater.  One 
might  add  too  that  the  drama  stands  on  a  relatively 
lower  level  than  some  other  Chinese  arts,  for  ex- 
ample, landscape  painting  and  lyric  poetry.  Yet 
though  his  dramas  are  poor  the  Chinese  actor  has 
at  his  command  consummate  skill  to  hold  the  mirror 
up  to  life;  he  is  no  less  of  an  artist  than  his  Occi- 
dental colleague. 

Still,  the  subject  has  attracted  a  fair  number  of 

'  As  I  find  the  Revised  Version,  with  a  fuller  understanding  of 
Oriental  life,  prefers  to  phrase  it. 

[vii] 


PREFACE 

Occidental  writers.  Du  Halde  was  the  first ;  in  his 
monumental  description  of  China  published  in  1735 
he  printed  a  translation  by  a  Jesuit  missionary  of 
the  Yuan  Dynasty  drama,  "The  Orphan  of  the  Chao 
Family."  It  was  this  translation  that  inspired  Vol- 
taire's "L'Orphelin  de  la  Chine."  Other  transla- 
tions followed  in  the  nineteenth  century,  together 
with  some  critical  material  and  various  descriptions 
of  Chinese  staging.  In  the  last  few  years  the  in- 
terest in  the  Chinese  stage  has  evidently  become 
greater  than  ever,  both  in  China  and  in  Western 
lands.  A  history  of  the  Chinese  drama,  however, 
has  never  been  written ;  largely  because  the  Chinese 
themselves  have  no  such  work.  Only  a  few  present- 
day  innovators  among  Celestial  scholars  consider 
the  drama  as  literature.  Thus  the  information  we 
possess  on  this  vast  subject  is  very  meager,  and 
much  of  it  is  also  out  of  print.  This  book  is  an  at- 
tempt to  gather  together  what  is  known  on  the  sub- 
ject, as  well  as  to  present  in  a  volume  supplied  with 
vivid  illustrations  the  results  of  five  years'  experi- 
ence with  the  Peking  theater  by  a  student  of  com- 
parative literature  possessed  of  a  modest  knowledge 
of  the  Peking  dialect. 

Those  who  have  so  far  written  on  the  subject 
have  always  spoken  of  a  decadence  of  the  drama 
which  set  in  immediately  after  the  first  period  of 
bloom  in  the  Yuan  Dynasty  (1280-1368).  In  the 
course  of  the  revaluation  of  values  now  going  on  in 
China  this  opinion  is  being  changed.  Mr.  Wang  Kuo- 

[  viii  ] 


PREFACE 

wei  has  recently  compiled  a  dramatical  catalogue 
which  shows  that  numerically,  at  least,  there  is  no 
decrease  in  the  production  of  dramas.  A  trenchant 
critic.  Doctor  Hu  Shih,  holds  that  only  technically 
can  the  drama  of  the  Ming  Dynasty  (1368-1644) 
be  said  to  be  inferior,  because  the  compact  and 
unified  plays  of  the  Yuan  period  become  diffuse 
and  of  serpentine  length ;  but  that  in  the  matter  of 
characterization,  poetic  diction,  and  content  they 
are  far  superior.  Furthermore,  modern  Chinese 
criticism  considers  the  very  highest  point  of  the 
drama  to  have  been  reached  in  two  historical  trag- 
edies of  the  Ching  Dynasty  (1644-1911).  As  can 
readily  be  seen,  there  is  an  enormous  amount  of 
work  to  be  done  in  this  field;  and  if  the  gaps  and 
errors  in  this  book  shall  impel  a  competent  scholar 
to  write  the  long  overdue  history  of  the  Chinese 
drama  this  work  will  have  served  its  purpose. 

In  general  the  Chinese  drama  is  like  ours.  It  is 
divided  into  acts,  often  corresponding  in  number  to 
our  customary  four  or  five.  It  is  presented  in  a 
manner  strikingly  similar  to  that  employed  during 
our  greatest  period  of  the  drama  —  Shakespeare's 
day.  It  can  be  classified  according  to  content  into 
our  usual  divisions.  Historical  drama  prevails  per- 
haps; because  of  the  great  love  of  the  Chinese  for 
his  long  tradition  contemporaries  of  the  Romans  or 
even  earlier  heroes  are  favorites  on  the  stage. 
Family  drama  is  extremely  popular,  with  subdivi- 
sions such  as  the  drama  of  the  court  room  and 

[ix] 


PREFACE 

criminal  drama.  The  magic  or  mythological  drama, 
recalling  perhaps  "  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  ", 
is  also  very  important;  among  this  group  the  very 
best  plays  are  those  that  treat  superstitious  beliefs 
satirically.  Then  there  are  dramas  of  character, 
among  which  can  be  found  a  good  counterpart  to 
"  The  Miser  "  of  Plautus  or  Moliere.  Dramas  of  in- 
trigue abound  on  every  program.  Even  the  mono- 
drama  can  be  found  among  modern  innovations. 
And  last,  but  by  no  means  least,  there  is  the  religious 
drama  in  some  ways  analogous  to  our  miracle  and 
mystery  plays. 

The  three  chief  religions  of  China  have  exerted 
their  influence  on  the  stage.  Confucianism  supplies 
the  general  moral  background  of  the  majority  of 
plays.  The  veneration  of  the  scholar  rather  than 
of  the  warrior  makes  the  former  the  chief  hero  on 
the  Chinese  stage,  while  filial  piety  is  the  most  out- 
standing virtue  which  the  hero  displays.  Taoism, 
generally  described  as  the  religion  of  superstitions, 
is  responsible  for  the  many  mythological  and  ghostly 
figures  that  fill  Chinese  plays.  Rational  Confucian- 
ism is  not  conducive  to  imaginative  writing,  but 
under  the  influence  of  Taoism  the  Chinese  allowed 
his  fancy  to  roam  to  the  end  that  innumerable  de- 
lightful fairy  and  ghost  stories  were  invented.  The 
keen  sense  of  humor  of  the  Chinese  often  comes  to 
the  fore  in  plays  dealing  with  Buddhist  monks. 
These  monks  are  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  lazy, 
ignorant,  sensual,  superstitious  brethren  who  people 
[x] 


PREFACE 

the  pages  of  Boccaccio,  Chaucer,  Hans  Sachs,  and 
many  other  tellers  of  droll  tales.  In  fact  when  Pere 
Premave  first  came  to  China  (aromid  1700)  and 
saw  the  monasteries  with  the  celibate  monks,  who 
abstained  from  meat,  chanted  offices,  burned  incense, 
shaved  their  heads,  prayed  with  beads,  and  gathered 
money  from  the  pious,  he  decided  that  this  was  an 
invention  of  the  Evil  One  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
exasperating  the  Jesuits.  With  the  exception  of 
some  satire  on  the  migration  of  souls  the  doctrine  of 
Sakyamouni  has  had  little  influence,  but  whenever 
chanting  priests  or  monks  are  brought  on  the  stage 
they  are  burlesqued.  The  Chinese  are  extremely 
tolerant  in  regard  to  religion  and  never  fanatical; 
their  attitude  toward  the  supernatural  has  been 
aptly  defined  as  "  politeness  toward  possibilities." 

But  the  main  theme  of  the  Chinese  drama,  as  of 
all  drama,  is  the  human  side  of  life.  The  stage  is 
naturally  enough  a  mirror  in  which  we  can  see  the 
Chinese  as  they  see  themselves.  They  present  them- 
selves not  as  the  wise  men  of  the  East  that  some 
idealizing  travelers  would  like  to  make  them,  nor 
as  the  bloodthirsty  monsters  of  the  "  Limehouse 
Nights"  brand;  but  as  human  beings,  neither  white 
nor  black.  We  see  the  corruption  of  officials,  the 
callousness  toward  suffering,  the  selfishness  of  par- 
ents, the  eagerness  for  compromise,  and  the  lack 
of  physical  or  moral  courage;  on  the  other  hand  the 
polite  civilization  with  its  long  tradition,  the  respect 
for  the  past  and  for  learning,  the  love  of  poetry  and 

[xi] 


PREFACE 

art,  the  general  kindliness  and  honesty  of  the  people, 
the  love  of  humor,  the  extreme  democracy  in  social 
relations,  and  the  reasonableness  and  lack  of  fanati- 
cism. He  who  would  know  the  Chinese  ought  to 
know  their  stage;  and  furthermore,  he  who  loves 
our  Middle  Ages  will  derive  endless  pleasure  from 
its  counterpart,  the  pageant  of  Chinese  life. 

In  my  years  in  the  East  I  received  helpful  sugges- 
tions from  many  friends  in  the  course  of  hundreds 
of  visits  to  the  theater.  Professor  Soong  Tsung- 
faung  first  introduced  me  to  this  fascinating  spec- 
tacle. Doctor  Hu  Shih  discussed  it  illuminatingly 
in  conversation  and  by  correspondence.  Lucius 
Porter,  Professor  of  Chinese,  Columbia  University, 
1922-1924,  offered  helpful  suggestions  on  the  manu- 
script, which  he  read  in  part,  as  did  likewise  Pro- 
fessor Ferdinand  Lessing,  formerly  of  the  National 
University,  Peking.  Two  of  my  students,  Huang 
Ke-k'ung  and  Jung  Tu-shan,  who  learned  from  me 
about  Sophocles  and  Shakespeare,  introduced  me  in 
turn  to  many  fine  things  on  the  Chinese  stage.  And 
finally,  I  wish  to  express  my  appreciation  to  Mr. 
Chang  Ziang-ling  and  the  many  other  p'iao-yu 
(amateurs)  for  acquainting  me  with  the  nonprofes- 
sional stage.  Thanks  are  due  to  the  editors  of  La 
Revue  de  Litterature  Comparee  and  of  Asia  for 
permission  to  reprint  a  number  of  chapters. 

A.    E.    ZUCKER 
RivERDALE,  Maryland 
December  7,  1024 

[xii] 


i 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface vii 

CHAPTER 

1  Early  History 3 

2  Formal   Development — Yuan  Dynasty,   1206- 

1368  A.D 19 

3  The  Ming  Dynasty,   1368-1644  a.d.     The    Pi- 

Pa-Chi 43 

4  The  Drama  under  the  Manchus  and  the  Repub- 

lic— 1644  to  the  Present  Day 69 

5  Modern  Tendencies 108 

6  External  Aspects  of  the  Chinese  Theater     ...  129 

7  The  Conventions 161 

8  Mei  Lan-fang — China's  Greatest  Actor  ....  171 

9  Analogies  Between  East  and  West 190 

Chronological  Table 221 

Bibliography 223 

Index 231 


[  xiii  ] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

For  the  purpose  of  giving  a  vivid  impression  of  the  colorful- 
ness  of  the  Chinese  stage,  the  pubHshers  have  imported 
from  China  four  thousand  paintings  on  silk,  done  by 
students  of  the  Peking  School  of  Fine  Arts.  They  rep- 
resent four  of  the  standing  character  type  of  the  Chinese 
stage,  in  their  traditional  make-ups. 

A  General Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

A  Scholar 52 

A  Demi-Mondaine 152 

A  Qown 206 


FACING   PAGE 

Illustration  by  a  Chinese  artist  for  "The  Chalk 

Circle" 28 

Illustration  by  a  Chinese  artist  for  "  Tlie  Chalk 

Circle" 32 

Illustration  by  a  Chinese  artist.    Tou-E  before  the 
judge 38 

Illustration  by  a  Chinese  artist.    Tou-E  about  to  be 
■  beheaded 40 

A  Chinese  artist's  conception  of  two  pious  souls  .    .        48 

[xv] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

Warrior-acrobats 80 

Amateur  actors  in  an  old-style  Chinese  play   ...  no 

HuShih 118 

A  typical  Peking  audience  with  the  inevitable  tea- 
pots    130 

Orchestral  instruments 146 

Orchestral  instruments 148 

The  actress  Kin  Feng-Kui  in  a  male  role   ....  164 

Mei  Lan-fang  in  European  dress,  and  in  parts  .    .  176 

"  Burying  the  Blossoms  " 180 

The  Fortune  Theater 198 

A  typical  Peking  theater 198 

The  orchestra  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  stage  .    .    .  202 


[xvi] 


THE   CHINESE  THEATER 


CHAPTER  ONE 
Early  History 


ruDENTS  of  the  Pear  Garden"  (Li  Yuan 
Tzu  Ti)  is  the  name  by  which  actors 
in  China  are  called  in  elegant  literary 
style.  This  appellation  was  given  them 
in  memory  of  the  traditional  origin  of 
the  Chinese  theater  in  the  imperial  palace  gardens 
of  a  T'ang  Dynasty  emperor,  Ming  Huang  (Yuen 
Tsung,  713-756  A.D.),  who  was  a  generous  patron 
of  the  arts  in  his  splendid  capital  Ch'ang  An.  This 
ruler  established  a  college  called  the  Pear  Garden 
for  the  training  in  music  and  dramatics  of  young 
actors  of  both  sexes.  His  plan  for  court  entertain- 
ment the  emperor  had  derived,  according  to  legend, 
from  a  visit  to  the  moon  where  he  had  seen  a  troupe 
of  performers  in  the  Jade  Palace  of  the  lunar  em- 
peror. In  the  annals  of  the  T'ang  Dynasty  the  fol- 
lowing is  told  about  the  art-loving  ruler : 

"  Ming  Huang  was  not  only  passionately  fond  of 
music,  but  he  also  had  a  thorough  knowledge  of  its 
essential  principles.   He  established  an  academy  of 

[3] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

music  with  three  hundred  students.  Ming  Huang 
himself  gave  them  lessons  in  the  Pear  Garden;  if 
any  of  the  students  sang  in  poor  taste  or  incorrectly 
the  emperor  noted  the  fault  immediately  and  cor- 
rected it  sharply.  The  young  girls  of  the  harem, 
several  hundred  in  number,  were  later  also  attached 
to  the  academy  as  students.  .  .  .  On  the  occasion 
of  the  emperor's  birthday  the  empress  ordered  them 
to  perform  some  musical  numbers  in  the  Palace  of 
Eternal  Life." 

The  French  scholar  Bazin  in  the  introduction  to 
his  translation  of  four  Chinese  plays  comments 
upon  this  as  follows :  "  Surely  it  is  a  great  thing 
that,  at  a  time  when  the  Chinese  had  as  yet  no  idea 
of  dramatic  performances,  a  man  who  had  founded 
the  institution  of  the  Han-Lin  (literally  '  The  Forest 
of  Pencils',  i.e.,  The  Imperial  Academy  of  Schol- 
ars), and  who  could  justly  call  himself  'the  teacher 
of  his  nation',  conceived  and  carried  out  single- 
handed  a  work  of  art,  in  which  we  find  for  the  first 
time  with  all  its  marvelous  charm  the  union  of  lyric 
poetry  with  the  drama.  This  work,  fitted  to  arouse 
in  the  souls  of  the  spectators  the  sentiment  of  the 
sublime,  could  be  the  product  only  of  a  genius." 

In  "The  Chinese  Drama",  William  Stanton 
writes  on  the  origin  of  the  drama  as  follows : 

The  long  reign  of  Yuen  Tsung,  styled  the  Illustrious 
Emperor  (Ming  Huang)  owing  to  its  splendid  begin- 
ning and  disastrous  close,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
in  Chinese  history. 

[4] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

On  ascending  the  throne,  the  young  emperor  zealously 
strove  to  purge  the  empire  of  the  extravagance  and  de- 
bauchery that  was  ruining  it ;  and  in  his  austerity  went  so 
far  as  to  prohibit  the  wearing  of  the  then  fashionable 
costly  apparel,  and,  as  an  example  to  his  subjects,  he  made 
a  large  bonfire  in  his  palace  of  an  immense  quantity  of 
embroidered  garments  and  jewellery.  Under  the  wise  ad- 
ministration of  this  stern  ruler  and  his  able  ministers  the 
state  attained  a  great  height  of  prosperity.  But  unex- 
pectedly the  emperor's  character  underwent  a  change; 
he  developed  a  love  of  sensuality  and  himself  indulged  in 
the  luxuries  he  had  formerly  so  strongly  condemned. 

In  A.D.  734  he  obtained  a  sight  of  his  daughter-in-law, 
the  beautiful  Yang  Kuei-fei,  and  became  so  violently 
enamoured  with  her  that  he  took  her  into  his  own  seraglio. 
She  speedily  obtained  a  complete  ascendency  over  him  and 
succeeded  in  getting  raised  to  the  highest  position  next 
the  throne. 

According  to  legendary  stories  the  Herdsman  and 
Spinning  Damsel  are  two  lovers  who  each  inhabit  a  star 
separated  by  the  Silver  River  (the  Milky  Way)  and  are 
unable  to  meet  except  on  the  seventh  night  of  the  seventh 
moon,  when  magpies  from  all  parts  of  the  world  assemble, 
and  with  their  linked  bodies  form  a  bridge  to  enable  the 
damsel  to  cross  to  her  lover.  Consequently  this  is  one  of 
the  great  festive  occasions  of  China.  On  the  said  eve- 
ning of  A.D.  735,  Yuen  Tsung  and  his  celebrated  consort 
stood  gazing  into  the  starlit  sky.  Remembering  the  occa- 
sion Yang  Kuei-fei  burst  into  protestations  of  affection 
and  assured  the  monarch  that  she  was  more  faithful  than 
the  Spinning  Damsel,  for  that  she  would  never  leave  him, 
but,  inseparably  with  him,  tread  the  spiritual  walks  of 
eternity.  In  order  to  reward  such  love  the  emperor 
sought  to  discover  a  novel  amusement  for  her.  After 
consideration  he  summoned  his  prime  minister  and  com- 

[5] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

manded  him  to  select  a  number  of  young  children,  and, 
after  carefully  instructing  and  handsomely  dressing  them, 
to  bring  them  before  the  beautiful  Yang  Kuei-fei,  to  re- 
cite for  her  delectation  the  heroic  achievements  of  his 
ancestors.  That  was  the  origin  of  the  drama  in  China. 
The  first  performances  were  generally  held  in  a  pavilion 
in  the  open  air,  among  fruit  trees,  and  Yuen  Tsung  subse- 
quently established  an  Imperial  Dramatic  College  in  a  pear 
garden,  where  hundreds  of  male  and  female  performers 
were  trained  to  afford  him  pleasure.  From  the  site  of  the 
college  the  actors  become  known  as  the  "  Young  Folks  of 
the  Pear  Garden  ",  a  title  they  claim  to  the  present  day. 

The  Pear  Garden  origin  of  the  Chinese  drama  is 
a  fine  legend  and  heroic  history,  but  it  is  typical  of 
Chinese  who  have  come  in  touch  with  Occidental 
science  that  they  should  search  for  a  more  realistic, 
if  less  picturesque,  account  of  the  beginning  of  their 
theater.  The  first,  and  so  far  the  only,  systematic 
and  scientific  work  on  this  subject  is  "  The  History 
of  the  Drama  under  the  Sung  and  Yuan  Dynasties", 
by  Mr.  Wang  Kuo-wei.^  This  author  has  taken 
great  pains  in  collecting  all  evidences  of  pantomimes, 
dramatic  dances,  satirical  buffoonery,  or  anything 
else  to  which  the  roots  of  a  theater  might  be  traced. 
While  he  is  not  yet  able  on  the  basis  of  his  evidence 
to  lead  us  back  step  by  step  to  the  genesis  of  the 
theater  —  as  could  for  example  a  scholar  dealing 
with  the  Greek  drama  —  yet  the  evidence  he  adduces 
is  most  interesting. 

'  Commercial  Press,  Shanghai.  1915.  —  A  small  volume  of  about 
200  pages.  Not  translated  into  a  European  language.  —  The  same 
author  has  issued  a  "  Dramatical  Catalogue  ",  same  publishers,  1917. 

[6] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

About  2000  B.C.  there  were  found  mediums  called 
wu  when  they  were  women  or  hsien  when  men, 
who  performed  dances  and  sang  songs  in  the 
worship  of  the  gods,  to  exorcise  evil  spirits,  to  in- 
duce the  gods  to  send  rain,  or  to  act  as  mourners  in 
times  of  calamity.  It  was  believed  that  the  gods 
descended  to  earth  and  communicated  with  men 
through  these  mysterious  beings,  especially  in  the 
course  of  violent  dances.  This  form  of  worship  de- 
signed for  the  pleasure  of  the  gods  was  evidently 
much  according  to  the  taste  of  men,  for  we  find  it 
such  a  widespread  form  of  popular  amusement 
that  I- Yin,  famous  minister  of  the  Shang  Dynasty 
(1766-1122  B.C.),  issued  an  edict  prohibiting  it, 
"  The  late  sovereign  instituted  punishments  for  the 
officers,  and  warned  the  men  in  authority,  saying, 
'  If  you  dare  to  have  constant  dancing  in  your  man- 
sions, and  drunken  singing  in  your  houses,  I  call  it 
wu- fashion '."  *  During  the  classical  Chou  Dynasty, 
beginning  1122  B.C.  with  Wu  Wang,  everything  in 
Chinese  life  was  cast  into  the  fetters  of  a  strict 
ritual.  There  were  regulations  governing  the  dress 
to  be  worn,  the  speeches  to  be  made,  and  the  postures 
to  be  assumed  on  all  possible  occasions,  whether  at 
the  court  or  in  private  life ;  in  fact,  these  rules  were 
the  prototypes  of  most  of  the  characteristic  features 
governing  Chinese  public  and  social  life  down  to  the 
present  day.    It  can  be  seen  readily  that  the  more  or 

'  Quoted  by  De  Groot,  "  Religious  Systems  of  China ",  vol.  VI, 
p.  1 187. 

[7] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

less  spontaneous  and  popular  mimicry  of  the  wu 
(mediums)  would  naturally  enough  be  suppressed 
at  this  time;  but  in  later  dynasties  we  find  again 
many  references  to  the  beauty,  the  splendid  cos- 
tumes, the  singing  and  dancing,  and  in  general  the 
charm  of  these  actors  in  popular  religious  cere- 
monies. 

These  performances  of  the  early  Chinese  centered 
about  the  divine  worship,  as  everything  of  aesthetic 
nature  in  the  life  of  primitive  man  seems  to  do. 
Even  to-day  all  of  the  theatrical  performances  in 
China  outside  the  large  cities  are  a  form  of  divine 
worship,  usually  harvest  festivals  staged  by  way  of 
thanksgiving  for  good  crops.  That  there  is  in  the 
minds  of  the  Chinese  a  definite  religious  association 
with  theatricals  performed  in  the  villages  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that  the  Christian  converts  always  re- 
ceive a  dispensation  for  their  share  of  the  sum  de- 
manded by  the  traveling  company.  Sometimes 
missionaries  hear  complaints  from  the  village  elders 
that  some  thrifty  members  of  their  flocks  save  the 
tax  for  theatricals  and  yet  go  to  look  on  at  the 
shows;  however,  thanks  to  the  reasonable  and  un- 
fanatic  character  of  the  Chinese  such  quarrels  are 
usually  easily  adjusted. 

Because  of  this  close  association  of  the  theater 
with  temple  worship,^  it  seems  reasonable  to  seek 

'  The  chief  reason  why  theatricals  are  given  at  the  village  temples 
to-day  is  that  they  are  public  buildings  with  convenient  stages.  Not 
only  religious  but  also  secular  plays  are  performed,  sometimes  vulgar 
and  immoral  ones.    On  the  whole  the  moral  standard  of  the  Chinese 

[8] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

for  another  possible  origin  of  the  drama  in  the  early 
ancestor  worship  in  which  the  deceased  forefather 
of  the  family  was  impersonated  by  one  of  his  de- 
scendants. A  ceremony  of  honoring  a  revered  an- 
cestor could  easily  be  expanded  into  a  representation 
of  his  great  deeds.  It  is  also  known  that  not  only 
men  but  also  gods  were  impersonated  by  the  actors ; 
as  Mr.  Wang  puts  it,  they  dressed  in  the  attire  of 
the  gods  and  imitated  their  gestures.  However,  in 
regard  to  these  representations  of  the  gods  our 
author  feels  that  it  is  impossible  to  give  any  definite 
details.  Yet  in  the  verse  of  the  time  there  are  allu- 
sions to  these  performances  referring  to  extrava- 
gance in  dress  and  in  articles  of  toilet,  such  as 
perfume;  to  a  change  in  the  style  of  music;  to  the 
employment  of  themes  of  love  or  of  sadness  in  part- 
ing—  all  of  which  indicates  the  great  popularity  of 
these  entertainments  of  singing  or  dancing.  Hence 
our  Chinese  scholar  believes  that  out  of  these  be- 
ginnings the  drama  has  grown. 

In  this  connection  it  would  seem  proper  to  men- 
tion the  work  of  the  Cambridge  University  scholar, 
Professor  William  Ridgeway.  He  holds  that  Greek 
tragedy  proper  did  not  arise  in  the  worship  of  the 
Thracian  god  Dionysus;  but  that  it  sprang  out  of 
the  indigenous  worship  of  the  dead,  especially  dead 


stage  is  very  high  and  must  be  called  a  good  influence  for  the  largely 
illiterate  population.  The  worship  at  Chinese  temples  in  the  course 
of  the  religious  festivals  has  the  general  character  of  a  carnival  with 
money  changers,  booths  for  eating  and  drinking,  acrobats,  magicians, 
beggars,  gambling  devices,  etc. 

[9] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

chiefs  who  in  some  cases  are  later  deified.^  In 
dramatic  dances  in  honor  of  ancestors  or  deceased 
heroes  in  Asiatic  countries  Professor  Ridgeway 
finds  support  for  his  theory  of  the  origin  of  the 
Greek  theater.  Speaking  of  the  Chinese  theater,  he 
says  that  already  in  the  time  of  Confucius  certain 
solemn  dances  were  held  in  the  ancestral  temples; 
at  the  present  time  in  the  temples  of  local  deities, 
who  were  once  heroes  or  heroines  of  the  immediate 
neighborhood,  dramatic  performances  are  held  in 
which  these  deified  heroes  are  supposed  to  take  an 
interest  for  the  reason  that  they  are  themselves  fre- 
quently the  object  of  the  worship;  and  that  these 
modern  theatricals  seem  to  be  descended  directly 
from  the  ancient  cult  practiced  five  hundred  years 
before  Christ.  It  would  seem  from  the  foregoing 
that  Mr.  Wang's  evidence  gives  support  to  Pro- 
fessor Ridgeway's  theories  of  the  origin  of  tragedy 
out  of  the  worship  of  deified  heroes. 

Doctor  Berthold  Laufer,  curator  of  the  Field 
Museum,  Chicago,  has  stated  to  me  that  in  his  opin- 
ion a  discussion  of  the  origin  of  the  Chinese  drama 
ought  to  differentiate  between  the  beginnings  of  the 
"military  plays"  and  the  "civil  plays."  The  latter 
are,  as  will  be  explained  more  fully  in  a  later 
chapter,  plays  in  our  sense  of  the  word,  while  the 
"military  plays"  consist  of  acrobatics  that  sym- 
bolize fighting.    Doctor  Laufer  believes  that  these 

*  See  Sir  William  Ridgeway,  "  The  Dramas  and  Dramatic  Dances 
of  Non-European  Races  in  Special  Reference  to  the  Origin  of  Greek 
Tragedy,"  Cambridge  University  Press,  1915. 

[10] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

last-named  take  their  origin  from  ancient  cere- 
monials in  which  the  use  of  weapons  was  the  chief 
feature.  Doctor  Laufer  has  had  considerable  ex- 
perience with  the  Chinese  theater,  and  his  museum 
is  the  only  one  in  the  world,  so  far  as  I  know,  which 
possesses  life-size  figfures  of  Chinese  actors  in  cor- 
rect costume. 

So  much  for  ancestor  worship  as  the  source  of 
the  drama  with  the  wu  or  hsien.  Mr.  Wang  ad- 
duces records  also  of  other  types  of  actors.  As 
early  as  1818  b.c,  according  to  a  none  too  reliable 
Han  Dynasty  (206  b.c.-22I  a.d.)  record,  a  ruler  is 
said  to  have  abolished  the  temple  rites  and  cere- 
monies and  to  have  collected  about  his  court  clowns, 
dwarfs,  and  actors  to  perform  amusing  plays.  In 
the  more  historic  period  of  "  Spring  and  Autumn  " 
(770-544  B.C.)  there  are  records  of  dwarfs  in  roles 
similar  to  those  of  our  court  fools.  They  attempted 
to  gain  the  favor  of  the  rulers  by  their  witty  sayings 
which  were  often  full  of  satire.  Confucius  in  his 
capacity  of  prime  minister  saw  himself  forced  to 
put  to  death  one  of  these  wits  ^  because  of  his  disre- 
spectful allusions  to  the  ruler  —  an  action,  inciden- 
tally, that  seems  most  characteristic  of  the  noble 
sage,  who  with  all  his  virtues  certainly  was  not  en- 
dowed with  a  sense  of  humor.  The  function  of  these 
dancing,  singing,  play-acting  dwarfs  was  not  a  re- 


'  Professor  Porter  calls  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  Doctor  Hu 
Shih  calls  these  court  jesters  "  sophists."  They  were  the  ones  to  make 
the  shrewdest  observations  among  all  courtiers.  The  suggestion  of 
the  revolutionary  element  probably  accounts  for  the  death  sentence. 

[II] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

ligious  one ;  "  they  were  to  amuse  men,  not  to  amuse 
the  gods." 

In  a  review^  of  Mr.  Wang's  "History  of  the 
Drama  under  the  Sung  and  Yuan  Dynasties" 
Professor  Soong  calls  attention  to  the  follow- 
ing interesting  analogies  between  Orient  and 
Occident: 

The  influence  of  the  court  fools  was  considerable,  and 
on  the  whole  salutary  in  China.  Shih  Huang-ti  (255-206 
r..c.),  the  builder  of  the  Great  Wall,  was  so  addicted  to 
great  building  enterprises  that  the  people  suffered  in  con- 
sequence. It  was  Yu  Sze,  the  court  fool,  who  caused  the 
emperor  to  treat  the  people  with  more  consideration. 
The  successor  of  this  mighty  ruler  conceived  the  plan  of 
having  the  Great  Wall  painted  —  perhaps  just  a  caprice 
on  his  part,  perhaps  in  order  to  render  the  Wall  less  sub- 
ject to  the  influence  of  the  weather.  Again  Yu  Sze  dis- 
suaded the  emperor  from  carrying  out  such  a  costly  and 
wasteful  project.  The  history  of  Yu  Meng  is  even  more 
interesting.  In  the  kingdom  of  Chou  the  family  of  Suen 
Lo  Ngao  had  become  extremely  impoverished  because  the 
king  had  forgotten  the  merits  of  the  chief  of  the  house, 
a  famous  general.  Yu  Meng,  the  court  fool,  donned  the 
armor  of  the  defunct  military  leader  and  sang  of  his 
exploits  before  the  royal  palace;  now  the  king  could  no 
longer  refuse  to  recognize  and  recompense  the  merits  of 
the  family.  This  touching  episode  told  by  the  historian 
in  the  "  Biography  of  Court  Fools "  cannot  but  recall 
Will  Sommer  to  whom  "  The  King  would  ever  grant  what 
he  would  crave." 

During  the  Han  Dynasty  records  show  the  ex- 
istence of  jugglers,  magicians,  rope-walkers,  sword- 

*  La  Revue  de  Genive,  January,  1921. 
[12] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

swallowers,  and  also  of  plays  in  which  masked 
actors  disguised  as  gods,  fearful  leopards,  cruel 
tigers,  white  bears,  and  gray  dragons  had  their 
parts.  Dwarfs  and  giants  were  made  to  play  to- 
gether in  humorous  pieces.  Singing  girls  in  cos- 
tumes of  feathers  executed  artful  dances.  Some  of 
these  performances  are  said  to  have  been  so  in- 
decent that  passers-by  covered  their  eyes.  How- 
ever, such  performances  were  sharply  censored 
at  the  time,  just  as  they  would  be  in  present-day 
China. 

All  of  these  performances  were  very  much  favored 
by  the  rulers,  but  they  consisted  mostly  of  singing 
and  dancing,  while  there  was  very  little  that  might 
be  called  drama.  In  the  northern  Ch'i  Dynasty 
(550-570  A.D.)  however,  there  arose  what  might  be 
called  a  historical  play  based  on  an  episode  in  the 
life  of  a  heroic  warrior,  Duke  Lan  Lu.  This  war- 
rior had  a  somewhat  effeminate  aspect,  and  there- 
fore he  wore  a  mask  in  battle  to  inspire  fear  in  the 
hearts  of  his  enemies.  His  story  was  dramatized 
and  became  a  very  popular  play,  probably  similar  to 
the  present-day  "military  plays"  in  which  the  play 
with  swords  and  spears  forms  the  piece  de  resist- 
ance. There  is  a  record  about  the  same  time  of  a 
comedy  also  based  on  an  actual  occurrence,  called 
"The  Drunkard."  A  certain  man,  Su  Pao-pi  (a 
name  alluding  to  red  spots  on  his  nose)  was  a  very 
heavy  drinker  and  after  each  spree  would  beat  his 
wife  in  the  village  street  until  she  wept  pitifully. 

[13] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Two  actors,  one  dressed  as  a  woman  and  the  other 
as  a  man,  would  amuse  the  people  by  a  popular  farce 
portraying  this  quarrel  between  husband  and  wife. 
The  playlet  must  have  been  one  of  extraordinary 
vitality,  for  there  are  records  of  it  in  the  Chi,  Chou, 
and  Sui  dynasties — to  be  sure,  three  short  dynasties 
that  followed  one  closely  upon  the  other.  Music  and 
dancing  also  played  a  part  in  these  two  early  dra- 
matic presentations,  so  that  they  were  probably  of 
the  melodramatic  (in  the  etymological  sense  of  the 
term)  variety,  such  as  is  most  of  the  Chinese  drama 
of  to-day. 

The  dramas  in  China  are  classified  according  to 
the  style  of  music  they  employ.  Another  play  of  the 
same,  or  perhaps  a  little  earlier  period,  called  "  The 
Tiger,"  is  thought  by  Mr.  Wang,  because  of  the 
music  of  foreign  tribes  employed  in  it,  to  have  been 
brought  into  China  from  "  The  Western  Regions  " 
(central  Asia).^  It  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  was 
killed  by  a  tiger  and  whose  son  then  set  out  on  a 
search  for  the  wild  beast,  fought  with  it  and  avenged 
his  father  by  killing  it  in  turn.  Mr.  Wang  even 
hazards  the  suggestion  that  the  two  plays  mentioned 
above,  "The  Mask"  and  "The  Drunkard,"  were  in 
their  music  and  manner  of  presentation  imitations 
of  "  The  Tiger,"  in  which  case  this  form  of  drama 


'  Note  by  Professor  Porter:  Mr.  Wang  develops  his  argument 
very  well,  using  evidence  from  the  odd  foreign  names  of  countries, 
localities  and  places.  At  the  period  it  is  known  that  there  was  ex- 
tensive intercourse  between  Western  countries  and  China  along  the 
northern  and  southern  caravan  routes. 

[14] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

would  be  a  borrowing  from  a  foreign  country  and 
not  indigenous  to  China. 

Two  other  early  plays  which  Mr.  Wang  mentions 
deal  with  historical  episodes.  From  the  Han  dy- 
nasty (206  B.C.-221  A.D.)  dates  the  story  of  an  un- 
just mandarin  who  had  "  squeezed  "  as  they  say  in 
China,  ten  thousand  rolls  of  silk  and  was  put  in  jail. 
Later  on  the  emperor  moderated  this  punishment, 
because  of  the  mandarin's  great  learning,  into  the 
following :  the  culprit  had  to  appear  at  court  dressed 
in  a  white  robe  while  for  the  period  of  one  year  the 
court  fools  were  at  liberty  to  make  sport  of  him. 
This  became  the  basis  of  a  play  shown  by  a  number 
of  records  to  have  been  acted  frequently  before  the 
T'ang  Dynasty.  The  plot  seems,  indeed,  to  have  been 
a  comedy  made  to  order  for  the  court  fools  to  dis- 
play their  wit.  There  is  evidence  to  show  that  this 
play  was  enacted  in  the  imperial  palace  in  the  middle 
of  the  eighth  century.  A  group  of  actors  from 
Chekiang  in  presenting  this  play  were  said  to  have 
had  voices  so  loud  that  they  penetrated  to  the  clouds 
—  a  circumstance  that  would  win  the  favor  of  the 
devotees  of  certain  types  of  modern  Chinese  drama. 
The  other  historical  play  has  for  a  hero  Fan  Kuai, 
a  noble  who  saved  the  emperor's  life  by  his  prompt 
action  against  rebels.  It  is  said  to  have  been  written 
by  the  T'ang  Dynasty  emperor,  ChaoTsung  himself, 
and  to  have  been  acted  in  the  imperial  palace  in 
Ch'ang  An. 

It  was  during  the  T'ang  Dynasty  especially  that 

[IS] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

a  nonmusical  type  of  drama  flourished  in  the  form 
of  extemporized  comedies.  The  plots  hinged  on 
local  occurrences  and  differed  with  practically  each 
presentation.  However,  much  as  in  the  Italian  corn- 
media  dell'  arte,  with  its  Arlecchino,  Pantalone,  Dot- 
tore,  Scapino,  etc.,  certain  characters  or  character 
types  seem  to  have  arisen.  The  very  same  extor- 
tionate mandarin,  mentioned  above  as  the  central 
figure  of  a  play,  became  such  a  type  who  figured  in 
almost  all  of  these  comedies  —  in  fact  he  is  a  stock 
character  on  the  Chinese  stage  even  to-day  —  while 
opposite  him  there  appeared  as  his  regular  compan- 
ion a  fool  wearing  a  green  cap.  Thus  dialogue  be- 
tween two  actors  —  in  other  words  rudimentary 
drama — became  firmly  established.  Since  the  satir- 
izing of  current  events  and  of  local  characters  was 
the  avowed  purpose  of  these  comedies,  it  will  be 
readily  understood  by  all  familiar  with  life  in  the 
East  that  the  dishonest  official  came  in  for  his  fair 
share. 

A  topical  comedy  with  a  purpose  from  the  Sung 
Dynasty  (960-1 126  a.d.)  played  before  the  emperor 
attained  all  that  might  have  been  desired.  Through 
the  efforts  of  an  unpopular  ofiicial  a  system  of  coin- 
age had  been  introduced  in  which  the  smallest  coin 
had  a  value  of  ten  cash.  Naturally  enough  this 
caused  great  inconvenience  to  very  many  poor  peo- 
ple. Therefore  some  actors  called  upon  to  play  be- 
fore the  emperor  in  the  course  of  a  feast  proceeded 
to  give  him  a  lesson  in  rudimentary  economics.  A 
[16] 


EARLY    HISTORY 

vendor  of  syrups  appeared  and  shortly  afterwards  a 
thirsty  customer.  The  latter  paid  one  coin  and  de- 
manded one  drink.  The  merchant  explained  that  he 
had  no  change  for  the  coin  and  asked  his  patron 
therefore  to  take  a  number  of  drinks.  The  buyer 
does  his  best,  but  after  the  fifth  or  sixth  cup  taps 
his  bulging  stomach  and  exclaims,  "  Well,  I  've  done 
it  at  last.  But  if  the  gentlemen  in  the  government 
were  to  make  us  use  hundred-cash  coins  I  should 
surely  burst!"  The  emperor  was  moved  to  gay 
laughter  and  smaller  coins  were  at  once  issued. 
However,  the  efforts  of  these  actors  were  not  al- 
ways so  fortunate  in  outcome.  The  story  is  told, 
for  example,  of  actors  who  had  dressed  up  to  repre- 
sent Confucius,  Mencius,  and  other  sages  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  the  emperor  some  very  pertinent 
advice  on  the  division  of  land  in  the  very  words  of 
the  great  moral  teachers.  The  advice  proved  to 
be  so  inconvenient  that  the  emperor  had  the  actors 
whipped  for  their  pains. 

From  the  Sung  Dynasty  (960-1127  a.d.)  Mr. 
Wang  reports  the  names  of  280  plays  and  from  the 
Chin  Dynasty  (11 15-1234  a.d.)  690  plays,  but  fails 
to  state  how  many  are  extant.  Of  the  so-called 
Ancient  Drama  it  is  known  that  a  certain  kind  of 
free  metrical  form  adapted  to  music  (ch'ii)  was  em- 
ployed; that  as  a  rule  only  two  actors  appeared  in 
each  play;  and  that  theatricals,  though  still  very 
primitive,  were  quite  popular,  as  they  were  pre- 
sented both  to  the  general  public  in  shabby  mat- 

[17] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

sheds  and  to  the  court  at  magnificent  feasts.  Our 
knowledge  of  the  Ancient  Drama  is  very  meager  to 
be  sure,  yet  the  work  of  Mr.  Wang  has  made  it 
possible  to  go  beyond  what  Mr.  Giles  says  in  his 
"History  of  Chinese  Literature"^  after  having 
mentioned  the  Pear  Garden  myth :  "  Nothing,  how- 
ever, which  can  be  truly  identified  with  the  actor's 
art  seems  to  have  been  known  until  the  thirteenth 
century,  when  suddenly  the  Drama,  as  seen  in  the 
modern  Chinese  stage  play,  sprang  into  being." 
Owing  to  the  great  interest  in  Western  drama  in 
China  at  the  present  time  it  is  very  likely  that  other 
Chinese  scholars  will  make  researches  in  this  inter- 
esting field  and  that  more  light  will  soon  be  shed  on 
the  origin  of  the  Chinese  drama. 

"  Page  257. 


[i8] 


CHAPTER   TWO 

Formal  Development  —  Yuan 
Dynasty,    1206-1368 


I 


HE  rise  of  the  Chinese  drama  was  due 
to  a  national  disaster  that  broke  the 
sway  of  the  ruling  literary  class.  In 
1264  Kublai  Khan  with  his  Mongols 
,  fixed  his  capital  at  Peking  and  for  the 
first  time  in  their  history  the  sons  of  Han  passed 
under  the  rule  of  an  alien  sovereign.  The  barba- 
rians naturally  enough  abolished  the  literary  ex- 
aminations for  government  posts,  consisting  of 
competitions  in  the  writing  of  essays  and  poetry  in 
the  language  of  the  classics,  for  they  did  not  care 
to  appoint  as  viceroys  and  justices  members  of  the 
subject  race.  The  Mongol  language  had  absolutely 
no  literature  and,  indeed,  not  even  an  alphabet  until 
1279,  when  a  Tibetan  priest  constructed  one  by  im- 
perial order.  Chinese  scholars  were  thrust  out  of 
their  high  offices  and  could  find  employment  only  as 
writers  of  petitions  or  as  lowly  clerks.  There  was  no 
longer  any  call  for  the  exercise  of  their  talents  in 

[19] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

the  writing  of  descriptive  essays  or  lyrical  poetry 
such  as  had  been  demanded  in  the  examinations 
formerly  leading  to  the  highest  offices ;  they  found, 
however,  a  fruitful  outlet  for  their  literary  powers 
in  a  genre  previously  greatly  despised  by  the  literati 
—  the  drama. 

The  cause  of  the  scholar's  disdain  for  the  drama 
and  the  novel  was  the  great  chasm  that  yawned 
between  the  classical  language  and  the  spoken  lan- 
guage of  the  day  in  which,  perforce,  popular  litera- 
ture of  entertainment  or  of  the  stage  had  to  be 
written.  For  over  a  thousand  years  the  literary 
language  had  been  a  dead  language,  so  dead  that  a 
learned  scholar  could  comprehend  it  only  if  he  saw 
the  text  in  black  and  white  before  his  eyes  —  to  hear 
it  read  did  not  by  any  means  enable  him  to  under- 
stand it.  Everything  that  had  been  considered 
literature  up  to  that  time  was  composed  in  this 
language,  and  anything  composed  in  the  vulgar 
tongue  was  considered  beneath  the  dignity  of  a 
scholar.  Now,  however,  clever  writers  turned  to 
the  drama  and  the  novel  with  the  result  that  the 
written  language  was  to  a  certain  extent  democra- 
tized in  the  works  that  appealed  to  the  broad  masses 
of  readers  or  hearers.  But  let  it  be  noted,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  only;  for,  as  vanquished  Greece  in  turn 
conquered  Rome  by  her  superior  culture,  so  Chinese 
culture  conquered  the  Mongols.  After  having  been 
abolished  for  practically  eighty  years  the  literary 
examinations  were  reinstated  and  the  drama  too 
[20] 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

was  gradually  caught  in  pedantic  fetters  of  formal- 
ism. Yet  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  Yuan  drama- 
tists moved  away  from  the  spoken  language  to  one 
presupposing  considerable  erudition  on  the  part  of 
the  reader,  there  are  many  scholars  even  to-day  who 
regard  the  novel  and  drama  as  beneath  their  notice, 
just  as  a  medieval  scholar  would  have  despised  any 
work  not  written  in  Latin.^ 

In  fact  these  works  have  been  recognized  at  their 
true  worth  only  as  late  as  1917,  when  Hu  Shih, 
Columbia  University  doctor  of  philosophy  and  pro- 
fessor at  the  National  University  in  Peking,  began 
to  lecture  on  the  Chinese  drama  as  drama  and  to 
publish  the  best  of  the  novels  with  historical  intro- 


'  The  difficulty  in  acquiring  a  reading  knowledge  of  the  classical 
Chinese  (Wen  Li)  does  not  consist  chiefly  in  learning  to  read  five 
thousand  or  more  ideograms  —  that  is  only  a  minor  trouble  —  but  in 
the  retention  in  the  memory  of  the  texts  of  the  classics  to  which  con- 
stant allusion  is  made  in  a  manner  to  confuse  utterly  the  uninitiated. 
"  The  dragon  has  gone  down  to  the  sea  "  means  "  the  emperor  has 
died."  Or  to  translate  the  idea  into  English ;  the  Bible  says,  "  The 
words  of  the  wise  are  as  goads"  (Ecclesiastes  xii,  ii)  and  Shakes- 
peare (Hamlet  V,  i).  "There  is  no  ancient  gentleman  but  garden- 
ers " ;  therefore  the  reader  would  have  to  know  that  "  goads  "  stands 
for  the  words  of  the  wise  and  "  ancient  gentlemen "  for  garden- 
ers. But  connoisseurs  regard  this  classical  language  as  the  greatest 
monument  of  China,  far  finer  than  Sung  pottery  or  the  Temple 
of  Heaven.  Said  a  friend  to  me  one  day,  picking  up  a  copy  of 
Omar  at  the  verse : 

O  Thou,  who  man  of  baser  earth  didst  make. 
And  didst  with  Paradise  devise  the  snake. 
For  all  the  sin  wherewith  the  face  of  man 
Is  blackened,  man's  forgiveness  give  and  take. 

"  Such  is  this  wonderfully  rich,  poetic  Wen  Li,  while  in  Pai  Hua  (the 
vernacular)  this  same  thought  would  cover  pages  of  dull,  colorless 
prose."  Of  course,  the  spoken  language  is  still  as  poor  a  vehicle  for 
poetic  thought  as  Italian  was  before  Dante,  but  its  advocates  hope  for 
its  growth  and  development. 

[21] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

ductions.  Professor  Hu  Shih  finds  in  the  language 
of  these  works  a  compromise  which  he  hopes  will  be 
an  aid  in  inducing  the  Chinese  of  to-day  finally  to 
adopt  the  vernacular  as  the  language  of  science  and 
belles-lettres.  For,  in  spite  of  the  concessions  made 
to  the  firmly  rooted  conventions  of  the  conservative 
class  of  scholars  for  the  sake  of  lending  dignity  to 
their  works  and  securing  the  approval  of  the  literati, 
the  novel  and  the  drama,  owing  to  their  popular 
appeal,  deviated  largely  from  the  dead  language  and 
approached  the  vernacular  of  the  day. 

The  dramatists  are  as  a  rule  men  who  are  not 
otherwise  famous  as  writers.  Biographical  material 
concerning  the  authors  of  the  "  One  Hundred  Yuan 
Dramas  ",  the  collection  of  plays  considered  classical 
in  China,  is  so  meager  that  it  does  not  seem  worth 
while  to  mention  names  about  whose  bearers  little 
more  can  be  said  than  that  they  "flourished." 
About  five  hundred  plays  were  extant  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  Ming  Dynasty,  while  to-day  there 
exist  but  one  hundred  and  sixteen.  Modern  Celes- 
tial scholars  are  proud  of  the  fact  that  an  over- 
whelming percentage  of  the  authors  were  real 
Chinese,  practically  all  from  the  territory  now  cov- 
ered by  the  provinces  of  Chihli,  Shantung  and 
Shansi,  about  a  third  of  them  born  in  Peking  (called 
Yenching  at  the  time).  Nine  tenths  of  the  authors 
lived  in  what  is  called  the  first  period  of  the  Yuan 
drama  (1235-1280)  with  its  center  in  Peking;  while 
the  much  smaller  Southern  School  developed  later 
[22] 


\ 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

(1280-1335)  around  Hangchow.  Most  of  the  au- 
thors were  from  among  the  common  people,  and 
only  one  among  the  whole  ninety  odd  was  a  Tartar. 
Chinese  critics  regard  Kuan  Han-ching  (the  author 
of  "The  Sufferings  of  Tou-E",  a  play  discussed 
below)  as  the  greatest  of  all  these  writers,  because 
his  manner  is  true  and  natural.  Others  are  spoken 
of  as  having  a  style  that  is  lofty  and  magnificent,  or 
pure  and  beautiful,  or  biting  and  vigorous. 

The  historian  of  the  Chinese  drama,  Mr.  Wang 
Kuo-wei,  quoted  above,  states  that  the  Yuan  drama 
is  a  natural  growth  out  of  the  previously  existing 
forms  and  the  traditional  plots.  More  than  thirty 
Yuan  plots,  he  points  out,  had  been  used  before  in 
plays  of  the  Sung  Dynasty.  He  finds  the  chief  ad- 
vance of  the  Yuan  drama  to  consist  in  the  employ- 
ment of  more  flexible  verse  forms  for  the  poetic 
sections  and  the  use  of  more  dialogue  in  the  place 
of  narration  and  description.  Thus  the  essence  of 
drama,  action,  takes  the  place  of  narration.  More- 
over, the  drama  rose  to  the  dignity  of  an  art.  Previ- 
ous to  this  the  plays,  generally  dialogues  by  clowns, 
had  been  mostly  interlarded  in  entertainments  of 
acrobatics,  dancing,  and  music.  Such  performances 
took  place  frequently  at  the  royal  court  and  are  de- 
scribed also  in  the  writings  of  the  Italian  Ma-Ke- 
Po-Lo  (Marco  Polo)  when  he  tells  about  the  feast 
of  the  Grand  Khan :  "  When  the  repast  is  finished, 
and  the  tables  have  been  removed,  persons  of  various 
descriptions  enter  the  hall  and  amongst  these  a  troop 

[23] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

of  comedians  and  performers  on  various  instru- 
ments, as  also  tumblers  and  jugglers,  who  exhibit 
their  skill  in  the  presence  of  the  Grand  Khan  to  the 
high  amusement  and  gratification  of  all  the  spec- 
tators." ^ 

As  has  been  stated  above,  the  dramas  soon  took 
on  certain  formal  aspects.  In  general  they  have 
four  acts,  with  a  prologue,  epilogue,  or  interlude, 
which  makes  them  in  appearance  and  length  quite 
similar  to  our  five-act  plays.  Some  plays  —  analo- 
gous to  our  trilogies  —  have  acts  of  a  number  that 
is  a  multiple  of  four  and  each  group  of  four  acts 
forms  a  unity  by  itself.  For  example,  "The  West- 
ern Chamber",  has  twenty  acts  and  forms  really 
five  plays.  According  to  Chinese  critics  the  drama 
is  composed  of  three  elements:  (i)  action;  (2) 
speech;  (3)  singing.  Speech  may  be  divided  into 
monologue  and  dialogue;  the  purpose  of  the  latter 
is  to  advance  the  action  and  of  the  former  to  arouse 
emotions  —  a  function  that  very  properly  invites 
comparison  with  the  role  of  the  chorus  in  the  Greek 
drama.  No  longer  are  there  only  two  characters  in 
these  plays,  but  we  now  find  four  chief  roles  along 
with  various  minor  parts.  In  very  rigid  manner 
only  one  character  is  made  to  sing  in  each  act,  which 
means  that  each  of  the  four  characters  has  one  act 
in  which  he  or  she  plays  the  main  role.  This  ar- 
rangement has  had  its  peculiar  effect  which  can  be 


'  "  Travels  of  Marco  Polo  ",  Everyman  Edition,  Button  and  Ojm- 
pany,  page  1 86. 

[24] 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

witnessed  in  present-day  Peking,  where  plays  of 
this  type  are  staged,  inasmuch  as  a  famous  actor 
who  plays,  let  us  say,  the  role  of  the  lover,  will  not 
present  entire  dramas,  but  only  such  of  the  acts  as 
give  him  the  principal  part.  In  the  new  plays  of 
to-day,  of  course,  a  different  practice  is  followed 
but  the  old  repertoire  of  the  average  Chinese  theater 
is  so  well  known  that  it  makes  very  little  difference 
whether  a  drama  is  presented  as  a  whole  or  in  part. 
The  character  types  of  the  Yuan  drama,  the  Met 
(male)  and  Tan  (female),  with  their  many  varia- 
tions, are  in  general  quite  similar  to  the  types  of 
present-day  drama,  a  discussion  of  which  is  given 
in  a  later  chapter.  In  the  printed  texts  of  the  play 
characters  are  designated  not  by  their  names,  but 
by  the  roles  which  they  play. 

The  classical  drama  of  China  offers  many  inter- 
esting parallels  to  different  stages  in  the  develop- 
ment of  our  drama,  though  it  nowhere  equals  the 
plays  of  our  great  masters.  Its  greatest  height 
reaches  the  level  of  perhaps  the  pre-Shakespearean 
drama  in  content,  construction,  and  manner  of  pres- 
entation. The  presentation  of  Chinese  plays  with 
the  projecting  platform  stage,  the  lack  of  scenery 
and  the  emphasis  on  gorgeous  costume,  the  play- 
ing of  female  parts  by  male  actors,  the  extempo- 
rizing of  clowns,  and  the  use  of  music  in  "  flourish  " 
and  "  alarums  "  offers  a  strikingly  close  parallel  to 
Elizabethan  staging.    But  that  is  a  chapter  by  itself. 

In  the  consideration  of  Chinese  drama  a  few  facts 

[25] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

of  Chinese  life  must  be  borne  in  mind.  The  beau 
ideal  in  the  Middle  Kingdom  is  not  the  warrior,  but 
the  scholar.  There  is  no  hereditary  aristocracy,  but 
wealth  and  power  falls  to  him  who  distinguishes 
himself  in  the  competitive  examinations  and  thus 
becomes  viceroy  of  a  province  or  some  other  type 
of  high  official.  The  passing  of  the  examination 
therefore  serves  as  the  deus  ex  machina  in  many 
plays,  solving  all  knotty  problems  accumulated  by 
the  fifth  act.  Marriages  are  arranged  by  the  par- 
ents, and  the  romance  of  courtship  is  a  rare  and 
forbidden  fruit.  The  religious  and  ethical  back- 
ground consists  chiefly  of  a  respect  for  the  minute 
moral  precepts  of  Confucius,  with  some  Buddhistic 
notions  of  reincarnation  and  some  Taoist  super- 
stitions impartially  admixed. 

To  examine  a  few  of  the  acknowledged  master- 
pieces of  the  Yuan  drama  is  to  invite  fascinating 
comparisons.  In  "Chao  Mei  Hsiang"  (Intrigue  of 
a  Lady's  Maid)  we  have  a  young  servant  girl 
uniting  two  lovers,  a  sort  of  Dorine  of  Moliere's 
"Tartufife"  in  a  Chinese  setting.  The  destiny  of 
the  young  man  and  the  girl  have  been  settled  before- 
hand by  their  parents,  much  as  Orgon  in  "Tartufife" 
disposes  of  his  daughter's  future : 

Enfin,  ma  fille,  il  faut  payer  d'obeissance, 

Et  montrer  pour  mon  choix  entiere  deference. 

The  lovers  in  both  plays  revolt  against  parental 
authority,  and   in  both  cases  a  happy  ending  is 
[26] 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

brought  about  indirectly  through  fortunate  inter- 
vention on  the  part  of  the  monarch  himself.  The 
meat  contained  in  the  Chinese  play  is  about  what 
"Tartuffe"  would  be  with  Tartuffe  left  out. 

Two  generals  arrange,  shortly  before  they  die  in 
battle,  that  their  children  are  to  marry.  The  son  of 
the  one,  therefore,  while  on  his  journey  to  the  cap- 
ital to  take  his  examination,  visits  at  the  home  of 
the  widow  of  his  father's  friend.  The  widow  in- 
vites him  to  take  up  his  abode  in  a  pleasant  pavilion 
in  the  garden,  but  she  meets  with  icy  silence  every 
reference  on  the  part  of  the  young  man  to  marriage. 
This  is  because  she  wishes  to  observe  the  very 
strictest  code  of  conduct,  which  ordains  that  when 
a  girl  has  lost  her  father  she  dare  not  marry  until 
three  years  afterward.  The  young  people  fall  in 
love  at  first  sight ;  the  young  man  so  desperately  that 
the  yearning  for  the  girl  he  is  not  permitted  to  see 
after  their  first  accidental  meeting  causes  him  to 
become  violently  ill.  The  quick-witted,  impertinent 
maid  sent  to  look  after  the  wants  of  the  patient 
carries  messages  between  him  and  the  young  girl 
and  finally  arranges  a  meeting  on  a  moonlit  night. 
The  lovers  have  exchanged  but  a  few  words  when 
the  mother  discovers  them.  She  punishes  the  maid 
and  sends  the  young  man  away  in  disgrace.  He 
goes  to  the  capital  and  passes  such  a  brilliant  ex- 
amination that  he  attracts  the  attention  of  the  em- 
peror. The  latter  becomes  interested  in  the  young 
man's  future  and  decides  to  carry  out  the  wish  of 

[27] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

his  two  faithful  generals.  The  marriage  is  arranged 
by  imperial  command.  Both  lovers  are  in  ignorance 
as  to  who  their  selected  mates  are  to  be,  and  at  first 
are  very  much  dejected ;  but  when  they  meet  as  bride 
and  groom  their  happiness  is  all  the  greater  when 
they  realize  that  the  choice  of  their  elders  is  also  the 
choice  of  their  hearts. 

The  play  moves  in  an  atmosphere  of  strictly  pre- 
scribed etiquette  of  which  the  mother  is  a  stony-eyed 
incarnation.  The  facetious  little  maid  is  a  breaker 
of  rules  in  the  interest  of  more  human  considera- 
tions, and,  like  the  servant  in  all  our  comedies  from 
the  time  of  Menander  downward,  she  tells  her  mis- 
tress some  frank  home-truths.  Not  only  is  the 
young  man  a  scholar,  but  the  heroine  with  her  maid- 
companion  also  have  been  ardent  students  of  the 
classics.  Quotations  from  Confucius,  Mencius, 
Laotze,  and  the  Buddhist  writings  lend  their  sparkle 
to  the  dialogue.  The  lovers  exchange  poems  ex- 
hibiting that  charming  impressionism  of  delicately 
sketched  moonlight  on  the  lotus  or  snowfall  on  pine 
trees  so  characteristic  of  Chinese  verse.  Allusions 
to  myths  abound ;  for  example,  to  the  moonlit  cloud 
that  wooed  the  mother  of  Huang  Ti  as  Jupiter 
did  lo.  As  in  the  plays  of  Bernard  Shaw  and  of 
his  predecessor  Shakespeare,  the  heroine  takes  the 
initiative  by  tossing  into  the  room  of  the  rather  pas- 
sive hero  a  bag  embroidered  with  characters  reveal- 
ing her  love.  A  wistful  note  is  sounded  by  the  young 
scholar  when  the  wedding  commanded  by  the  em- 
[28] 


ILLUSTRATION   BY  A   CHINESE  ARTIST   FOR  "THE 
CHALK  CIRCLE" 

This,  together  with  three  similar  illustrations,  has  been  taken  from  the 
standard  edition  of  the  Yuan  Dynasty  classics 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

peror  is,  as  he  believes,  about  to  unite  him  to  a 
woman  other  than  the  one  he  loves :  "  Musicians, 
please  do  not  now  play  the  air  of  the  teals  meeting 
in  chaste  pleasure  who  lament  and  yet  feel  no  sor- 
row." This  speech  gives  the  same  blending  of  the 
emotions  so  often  spoken  of  by  our  poets  in  analyz- 
ing the  mystery  of  love,  perhaps  most  strikingly  in 
Goethe's  lines: 

Freudvoll  und  leidvoll, 
Gedankenvoll  sein, 
Langen  tmd  bangen 
In  schwebender  Pein, 
Himmelhoch  jauchzend, 

Zwm  Tode  betriibt, 
Glucklich  allein  ist 
Die  Seele  die  liebt. 

The  play  "Ho  Lang  Tan"  (The  Singing  Girl) 
portrays  the  punishment  of  vice  and  the  triumph  of 
virtue.  A  rich  merchant  decides  to  take  into  his 
house  a  second  wife,  a  certain  singing  girl.  He  finds 
himself  desperately  in  love  with  this  lady  of  easy 
virtue,  while  the  girl  herself  is  planning  to  get  his 
money  in  order  to  run  off  with  her  real  lover.  There 
is  a  scene  between  husband  and  wife  in  which  the 
latter  bitterly  resents  the  plan  of  bringing  a  concu- 
bine into  the  house  and  pronounces  grave  warnings 
of  the  evils  that  will  befall  her  husband  in  con- 
sequence. But  the  merchant  persists  in  his  plan  and 
brings  the  singing  girl  to  salute  his  wife  as  mistress 
of  the  house.    The  former  is  required  by  etiquette 

[29] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

to  make  four  bows,  of  which  the  last  two  must  be 
returned  by  the  wife.  The  wife  refuses  to  greet  the 
interloper,  and  after  a  short  but  violent  quarrel  she 
dies  of  anger.  The  next  scene  shows  the  singing 
girl  stealing  the  merchant's  money  and  setting  his 
house  on  fire.  Her  lover,  disguised  as  a  boatman, 
throws  the  husband  into  a  stream  and  tries  to 
strangle  the  latter's  son  and  his  nurse.  But  pass- 
ers-by prevent  the  cowardly  murder,  and  one  of  the 
strangers  buys  from  the  nurse  the  seven-year-old 
boy  for  one  ounce  of  silver.  The  poor  nurse  faces 
starvation  and  decides  to  adopt  the  profession  of  a 
singing  girl.  While  traveling  about  in  this  capacity 
she  meets  the  merchant  who  has  had  a  miraculous 
escape  from  drowning  and  has  sunk  to  the  position 
of  swineherd  in  a  far  country.  His  lowly  state 
eloquently  points  the  moral.  At  first  he  upbraids 
the  nurse  for  having  adopted  her  dishonorable  call- 
ing, but  afterward  he  accepts  her  invitation  to  quit 
his  miserable  post  and  to  be  supported  by  her. 
Thirteen  years  have  passed  and  the  young  son  has 
become  a  famous  judge  by  virtue  of  having  passed 
a  brilliant  examination.  He  happens  to  arrive  in  the 
same  city  where  his  relatives  are  and  calls  on  the 
keeper  of  his  inn  to  provide  some  singers  for  his 
entertainment.  The  host  leads  in  his  childhood 
nurse  and  his  father.  The  young  judge  wipes  his 
teacup  with  a  piece  of  paper  which  he  throws  on  the 
floor.  As  this  paper  happens  to  be  the  contract  of 
his  sale  by  the  nurse  to  the  kind-hearted  stranger 
[30] 


\. 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

who  later  made  him  his  heir  and  as  it  happens  to  be 
picked  up  by  the  father,  a  recognition  is  effected. 
At  the  same  time  two  thieves  are  brought  before  the 
judge,  who  turn  out  to  be  the  erstwhile  second  wife 
and  her  scoundrel  lover.  They  meet  their  just  pun- 
ishment ;  the  judge  puts  them  to  death  with  his  own 
hand  as  a  pious  offering  to  the  spirit  of  his  deceased 
mother.  The  father  praises  the  justice  of  Heaven 
and  asks  his  son  to  order  a  feast  that  they  may 
celebrate  in  due  form  this  remarkable  meeting. 

The  chief  interest  of  this  clumsy  play  lies  in  the 
light  it  throws  on  Chinese  life.  The  indignation  and 
subsequent  death  of  the  wife  show  how  even  in 
countries  where  "  they  are  used  to  it "  women  resent 
bitterly  the  advent  of  a  concubine  into  the  house. 
During  my  stay  in  Peking  there  occurred  several 
weddings  that  were  marred  by  violent  quarrels  be- 
tween the  first  wife  and  the  new  bride.  The  hus- 
band in  our  play  vainly  exhorts  his  wife  to  be  good, 
to  observe  the  three  obediences  and  the  four  virtues 
of  a  wife.^ 

Yet  he  cannot  exile  her,  because  she  has  borne 
him  a  son.  All  of  the  characters  are  drawn  with 
great  realism  in  their  ignoble  conduct.  The  sale  of 
the  child  by  the  nurse  is  followed  by  a  tearful  mono- 
logue on  the  part  of  the  sailor  who  had  come  to  the 


'  The  Chinese  woman  must  as  a  child  obey  her  father,  as  a  wife 
her  husband,  and  as  a  widow  her  son.  The  four  wifely  virtues  are: 
(i)  to  honor  and  serve  her  mother-in-law;  (2)  to  respect  her  hus- 
band; (3)  to  live  in  peace  with  her  sisters-in-law;  and  (4)  to  have 
pity  on  the  poor. 

[31] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

rescue :  "  Poor  child,  your  lot  is  to  be  pitied.  This 
woman  who  was  just  about  to  be  strangled  by  the 
brigands  finds  herself  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
selling  her  child.  Could  one  find  a  sadder  and  more 
heart-rending  situation?  Who  would  not  shed  tears 
of  pity  for  her?" 

The  author  sets  out  with  a  realistic  portrayal  of 
a  phase  of  life,  but  he  yields  to  the  force  of  conven- 
tion which  required  a  moral  and  happy  ending  — 
an  influence  not  unknown  in  the  drama  of  Western 
countries. 

Our  plays,  from  "The  Merchant  of  Venice"  to 
"Madam  X",  abound  in  court  scenes,  but  the  Chinese 
theater  makes  use  of  this  effective  device  even  more 
frequently.  A  play  called  "  The  Chalk  Circle  "  pre- 
sents in  a  trial  scene  a  story  almost  identical  with  a 
Biblical  one.  Two  women  appearing  before  a  judge 
with  a  child  each  claim  it  as  their  own.  The  judge 
orders  the  child  placed  in  a  circle  drawn  on  the  floor, 
while  the  women  are  to  decide  who  is  the  mother  by 
pulling  at  the  child  in  a  sort  of  tug-of-war.  One 
woman  refuses  to  hurt  the  child  by  pulling  at  his 
arm,  and  the  judge  decides  with  Solomonic  wisdom 
that  she  must  be  the  true  mother.  Very  frequently 
these  plays  are  satirical  in  character,  making  sport 
of  the  notoriously  corrupt  judges.  In  one  of  the 
naively  primitive  speeches  of  introduction,  required 
by  the  theatrical  convention  of  every  character  on 
entering  the  stage,  a  judge  is  made  to  say,  "  I  am 
the  governor  of  Ching-Chou.    My  name  is   Sou 

[32] 


-^tk 


ILLUSTRATION   BY   A   CHINESE   ARTIST   FOR   "THE 
CHALK  CIRCLE" 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

Shen.  Although  I  fulfill  the  functions  of  a  judge, 
yet  I  do  not  know  a  single  article  of  the  code.  I  like 
only  one  thing  and  that  is  money.  By  means  of  the 
bright  metal  every  plaintiff  can  always  make  sure 
the  winning  of  his  suit." 

"The  Transmigration  of  You  Hsin"  is  a  play 
dealing  with  the  popular  superstitions  regarding  the 
reincarnation  of  souls  in  much  the  same  spirit  in 
which  Voltaire  in  "  Candide  "  treats  the  belief  that 
this  is  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds.  As  in  Gogol's 
"  Revizor  "  the  government  sends  an  inspector  to  a 
certain  village  where  the  officials  of  the  law  court  are 
said  to  be  corrupt.  The  rumor  of  the  coming  inspec- 
tion reaches  town  before  the  inspector ;  and  most  of 
the  judges  flee.  Only  You  Hsin  remains,  together 
with  the  clerks  and  minor  officials.  One  of  these  ex- 
presses his  surprise  at  the  fact  that  You  Hsin  is 
going  to  meet  the  inspector  so  calmly,  especially 
since  he  had  recently  accepted  a  scandalously  large 
bribe.  You  Hsin  answers,  "  Yes,  to  be  sure,  I  've 
accepted  presents.  But  my  friend,  you  certainly  are 
simple!  Isn't  it  necessary  that  we  fulfill  our  des- 
tiny? No  one  can  die  before  his  time  has  come. 
Have  the  courts  ever  prolonged  by  one  minute  the 
life  of  a  man?  H  it  were  otherwise  people  would  no 
longer  believe  in  lucky  and  unlucky  fates;  they 
would  no  longer  call  Heaven  and  Earth  the  arbiters 
of  life  and  death."  A  famous  anchorite  appears 
prophesying  that  You  Hsin  will  die  within  two 
hours.    Then  the  inspector  enters  the  village  and 

[33] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

begins  immediately  his  examination  of  the  court 
records.  However,  since  he  is  an  extremely  stupid 
and  incapable  man,  the  clerks  succeed  in  persuading 
him  that  everything  is  in  order.  But  You  Hsin  in 
his  home  has  fallen  ill.  He  implores  his  beautiful 
wife  never  to  show  her  face  in  public  and  to  remain 
a  widow  forever.  He  dies  at  the  very  hour  the  holy 
man  had  foretold  —  even  though  his  death  is  not 
due  to  a  sentence  imposed  on  him  because  of  his 
corrupt  practices. 

You  Hsin's  soul  appears  before  the  judge  of  the 
lower  world.  As  he  had  been  very  avaricious  in  life 
his  punishment  is  to  consist  in  having  to  gather 
coppers  tossed  into  a  deep  kettle  of  boiling  oil.  But 
the  holy  man  appears  and  obtains  forgiveness  for 
You  Hsin,  because  he  allows  himself  to  be  quickly 
converted  to  Taoism  and  makes  the  vows  of  poverty 
and  chastity.  The  judge  will  even  grant  him  the 
boon  of  a  speedy  return  to  earth.  He  cannot  reenter 
his  own  body,  because  his  wife  has  been  a  bit  pre- 
cipitate in  cremating  it ;  but  he  is  allowed  to  enter 
that  of  a  butcher  who  has  just  died,  a  blue-eyed, 
lame,  and  otherwise  ugly  man.  The  butcher's  par- 
ents, wife,  and  neighbors  are  engaged  in  mourning,^ 
when  the  dead  man  suddenly  rises  from  his  coffin. 
You  Hsin  wants,  first  of  all,  to  see  his  pretty  wife, 
but  when  he  tries  to  walk  he  stumbles  with  his  lame 
leg.  As  they  hand  him  the  crutch  he  reflects,  "  Ah, 
yes,  in  my  former  life  I  had  a  crooked  conscience 
and  in  this  life  I  have  a  crooked  and  useless  leg.   I 

[34] 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

realize  only  too  well  the  heavenly  justice ! "  The 
butcher's  relatives  follow  him  to  his  former  home, 
where  his  wife  had  been  happy  to  receive  him  after 
he  had  fully  explained  his  miraculous  return.  A 
violent  quarrel  breaks  out  between  the  two  women, 
each  of  whom  claims  her  husband.  The  case  is  taken 
before  the  stupid  imperial  inspector,  who  is  in  great 
perplexity  before  the  question  as  to  whether  the 
body  or  the  soul  constitutes  the  husband.  The  case 
and  the  play  end  when  the  anchorite  arrives  to  re- 
mind You  Hsin  of  his  vows  and  to  take  him  into 
the  unworldly  wilderness. 

Plautus'  and  Moliere's  subject  for  a  comedy  of 
character,  the  miser,  has  been  employed  by  a  Chinese 
playwright  with  strong  local  color  to  his  humor. 
One  of  the  many  scenes  of  his  play  describes  how 
the  miser  comes  to  feel  that  he  must  have  a  son  to 
pray  at  his  grave  and  therefore  decides  to  buy  one 
from  an  unlucky  scholar  reduced  by  poverty  to  sell- 
ing his  children.  He  offers  the  parents  one  ounce 
of  silver.  The  mother  exclaims  in  her  disappoint- 
ment, "  Why,  for  that  sum  you  could  n't  buy  a  boy 
modeled  in  clay."  Perhaps  this  is  a  bit  unmotherly 
in  sentiment,  but  the  retort  is  truly  miserly,  "  Yes, 
but  a  boy  of  clay  does  not  eat  or  cause  other  ex- 
penses." When  this  sum  is  refused  the  miser  in- 
structs his  servant  to  go  once  more  to  the  man,  to 
hold  the  silver  high,  very  high,  above  his  head  and 
to  say,  "There,  you  poor  scholar,  His  Excellency 
Lord  Kou  deigns  to  give  you  one  precious  ounce  of 

[35] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

silver."  His  servant  replies  that  no  matter  how  high 
he  holds  it  an  ounce  will  be  only  an  ounce;  and 
finally  he  pays  the  father  more  out  of  his  own 
wages ! 

When  the  son  has  reached  the  age  of  twenty  the 
miser  scolds  him  one  day  because  he  seems  to  think 
that  money  is  for  the  purpose  of  buying  food  and 
clothes !  By  way  of  instruction  he  tells  how  one  can 
live  economically: 

"One  day  I  felt  inclined  to  eat  roast  duck  and 
therefore  I  went  to  the  market  to  that  shop  which 
you  know.  They  were  just  roasting  a  fine  duck  and 
the  delicious  juice  was  running  down.  Under  the 
pretext  of  bargaining  I  handled  it  and  soaked  my 
fingers  thoroughly  in  the  gravy.  Then  I  went  home 
without  having  bought  it  and  called  for  a  plate  of 
boiled  rice.  With  each  spoonful  of  rice  I  sucked  one 
finger.  At  the  fourth  spoonful  I  became  tired  and 
fell  asleep.  During  my  nap  a  treacherous  dog  came 
and  licked  my  last  finger.  When  on  awakening  I 
noticed  this  theft,  I  became  so  angry  that  I  have 
been  ill  ever  since." 

The  house  is  in  need  of  a  picture  of  the  god  of 
luck,  and  the  miser  instructs  his  son  to  order  the 
artist  to  paint  a  rear  view,  because  to  paint  the  face 
costs  most.  When  he  is  about  to  die  he  orders  his 
son  to  bury  him  not  in  a  cofiin  of  pine,  nor  even  of 
willow  wood,  but  to  use  the  old  watering  trough 
standing  in  the  back  yard.  The  son  objects  that  it 
is  too  short,  but  the  father  instructs  him  to  chop 
[36] 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

his  body  in  two  to  make  it  fit.  "And  there  is  one 
more  important  thing  I  wish  to  say  to  you  before  I 
die ;  don't  use  my  good  ax  to  cut  me  in  two,  but  bor- 
row one  from  the  neighbor." 

"  Since  we  have  an  ax,  why  should  I  bother  the 
neighbor  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  my  bones  are  ex- 
tremely hard,  and  that  if  you  'd  use  my  good  cutting 
edge  you'd  have  to  spend  some  coppers  to  get  it 
resharpened." 

The  miser's  last  words  are  inaudible,  but  he  per- 
sists in  holding  up  two  fingers.  All  the  relatives 
assembled  in  the  death  chamber  are  very  much 
puzzled  and  try  to  please  him  by  doing  this  or  that, 
but  the  dying  man's  discomfort  increases.  Finally 
his  old  servant  enters  and  he  understands.  There 
are  two  candles  burning  where  one  might  do;  and 
after  one  of  them  has  been  extinguished  the  miser 
dies  in  peace. 

Tragedy  is  not  found  in  the  Chinese  drama.  The 
plays  abound  in  sad  situations,  but  there  is  none 
that  by  its  nobility  or  sublimity  would  deserve  to  be 
called  tragic.  The  closest  approach  to  it  is  found 
perhaps  in  "The  Orphan  of  the  Chao  Family",^ 
made  familiar  to  Western  readers  by  Voltaire;  or 
in  "  The  Sorrows  of  Han."  This  latter  play,  in  the 
Chinese  literally  "  Autumn  in  the  House  of  Han  ", 
is  full  of  poetical  touches.  North  of  the  Great  Wall 
there  is  the  Tartar  Khan  who  sees  in  the  weakness 


See  Bibliography. 

137} 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

of  the  Han  emperor  his  opportunity  for  further  con- 
quest. This  young  emperor  is  addicted  to  a  Hfe  of 
dissipation,  and  through  his  minister  Mao  he  gathers 
beauties  for  his  harem  from  the  four  corners  of  his 
realm.  As  a  true  Oriental,  Mao  demands  a  heavy 
bribe  from  the  family  of  every  girl  whose  portrait 
he  submits  to  the  emperor.  But  the  family  of  the 
most  beautiful  girl  of  all  is  so  poor  as  to  be  unable 
to  pay  a  bribe,  and  therefore  the  minister  causes  the 
artist  to  distort  the  portrait.  Naturally  the  emperor 
does  not  summon  this  lady  into  his  presence.  But 
one  evening,  when  in  a  melancholy  mood  he  walks 
in  an  unfrequented  part  of  his  palace  grounds,  he 
comes  by  chance  upon  this  girl  as  she  is  singing  to 
her  lute.  Her  beauty  enchants  him.  "The  very 
lantern  shines  brighter  in  the  presence  of  this  maid," 
he  exclaims,  and  falls  violently  in  love  with  her.  Of 
course,  he  orders  the  grasping  minister  to  be  be- 
headed; but  the  latter  flees  to  the  Tartar  Khan  to 
show  him  a  truthful  picture  of  the  favorite  and  to 
incite  him  to  war  against  China. 

The  Khan  sends  an  ultimatum :  "  Either  give  me 
this  beauty  for  a  wife  or  I  will  make  war  on  China." 
The  emperor  is  aghast  with  fear  of  a  Tartar  in- 
vasion, but  the  princess  is  willing  to  be  sacrificed. 
"  In  return  for  your  bounties  it  is  your  handmaiden's 
duty  to  brave  death  for  you,"  she  says  and  adds  that 
surpassing  beauty  has  always  been  coupled  with 
great  sorrow,  but  that  she  will  leave  a  name  ever 
green  in  history.  After  a  sad  farewell  she  departs 
[38] 


ILLUSTRATION    BY   A   CHINESK   ARTIST.   TOU-E   BEFORE 
THE   JUDGE 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

for  the  country  of  the  Tartars  and  meets  the  Khan 
on  the  banks  of  the  Amur.  She  drinks  a  last  cup  of 
wine  to  her  lover:  "Emperor  of  Han,  this  life  is 
ended.  I  await  thee  in  the  next."  With  these  words 
the  princess  casts  herself  into  the  swift  current  and 
drowns  in  spite  of  the  Khan's  valiant  effort  to  save 
her.  He  erects  for  her  a  tomb  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  which  tradition  says  is  green  both  summer 
and  winter.  Moved  by  her  noble  character,  the 
Tartar  decides  to  live  in  peace  with  China. 

A  play  that  is  even  to-day  a  favorite  in  Peking 
playhouses  under  the  title  of  "  Snow  in  June  "  was 
called  by  its  Yuan  dynasty  author  "  The  Sufferings 
of  Tou-E."  It  is  the  record  of  the  endless  suffer- 
ings at  the  hands  of  a  pitch-black,  wicked  world  of 
an  innocent  girl  and  her  final  vindication  through  a 
triple  miracle  from  Heaven.  In  her  childhood  she 
was  sold  by  her  own  father  into  a  family  where  she 
became  the  son's  wife  and  the  drudge  of  her  mother- 
in-law.  For  thirteen  years  she  was  a  dutiful  wife 
and  when  her  husband  died  she  hoped  to  remain 
faithful  to  his  memory,  as  every  widow  in  China  is 
expected  to  do.  But  two  cowardly  ruffians,  father 
and  son,  force  themselves  into  the  house  where  she 
is  living  with  her  likewise  widowed  mother-in-law 
and  demand  that  the  women  marry  them,  endowing 
them  at  the  same  time  with  all  their  worldly  goods. 
The  two  women  refuse  to  yield  to  these  insolent 
demands.  Then  the  younger  intruder,  or  rather 
bandit,  places  some  poison  in  a  bowl  of  soup,  in- 

[39] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

tending  to  murder  the  older  woman,  but  his  father 
drains  the  cup  by  mistake.  Hereupon  he  tries  once 
more  to  coerce  the  heroine  into  marriage  by  threat- 
ening to  fasten  the  murder  upon  her.  She  feels  quite 
secure  in  her  innocence  and  dares  him  to  bring  the 
case  to  court,  very  certain  in  the  belief  that  justice 
will  prevail.  But  the  wicked  judge  begins  by  hav- 
ing the  accused  tortured,  and  this  so  brutally  that 
the  girl  is  at  last  forced  into  a  false  confession 
merely  to  escape  the  unbearable  pain.  Upon  this 
she  is  promptly  condemned  to  death.  As  she  is 
kneeling  to  be  beheaded  she  announces  that  three 
things  will  prove  her  innocence;  her  blood  will  not 
fall  on  the  ground  but  on  a  banner  ten  feet  above 
her  head ;  snow  will  fall  although  the  season  is  sum- 
mer; and  there  will  be  a  drought  of  three  years' 
duration.  All  of  this  comes  true  as  it  had  been  fore- 
told, and  the  strange  tale  is  noised  abroad  in  the 
land.  Finally,  a  just  judge  —  her  very  father  who 
as  a  poor  scholar  had  been  forced  to  sell  his  child !  — 
hears  of  the  case  and  decides  to  investigate  it.  The 
spirit  of  his  daughter  comes  to  enlighten  him  in  re- 
gard to  the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  the  real  mur- 
derer is  punished  by  being  nailed  to  a  wooden  ass 
and  cut  into  a  hundred  and  twenty  pieces. 

This  obtrusively  moral  ending  is  a  sine  qua  non 
in  Chinese  plays ;  likewise  the  crude  plot  as  well  as 
the  role  played  by  accident  rather  mar  one's  enjoy- 
ment of  the  play.  Yet  the  courage  of  the  girl  in  the 
face  of  her  persecutors,  her  firm  belief  that  justice 
[40] 


ILLUSTRATION'  BY  A  CHINESE  ARTIST.     TOU-E  ABOUT  TO  BE 

BEHEADED 


I 


FORMAL    DEVELOPMENT 

will  prevail  in  the  end,  and  her  stoical  manner  of 
meeting  death  are  elements  not  without  their  charm. 
The  scene  of  the  execution  is  rather  impressive  in 
its  simplicity. 

Tou-E:  (sings)  Ye  clouds  that  float  in  the  air  on  my 
account,  make  dark  the  sky !  Ye  winds  that  sigh  because 
of  my  fate,  come  down  in  storms!  Oh,  that  Heaven 
would  make  my  three  predictions  come  true! 

Mother-in-law :  Rest  assured  that  snow  will  fall  for 
six  months,  and  that  a  drought  will  afflict  the  country  for 
three  years. 

Now,  Tou-E,  let  your  soul  reveal  clearly  the  great  in- 
justice which  is  about  to  cause  your  death. 

(The  executioner  strikes  off  Tou-E's  head). 

The  Judge  (seized  with  terror):  O  Heavens!  The 
snow  is  beginning  to  fall !    This  is  surely  a  miracle  1 

Executioner:  I  behead  criminals  every  day  and  their 
blood  always  flows  on  the  ground,  but  the  blood  of 
Tou-E  has  spotted  the  two  banners  of  white  silk  and  not 
a  drop  has  fallen  on  the  ground.  There  is  something 
supernatural  about  this  catastrophe. 

The  Judge :  This  woman  was  truly  innocent ! 

The  plays  discussed  in  this  chapter  are  sufificient  to 
show  that  in  the  thirteenth  century  the  Chinese  pos- 
sessed a  theater  of  fair  merit.  To  be  sure,  the  tech- 
nique is  extremely  crude;  characters  on  their  first 
appearance  on  the  stage  tell  the  audience  their 
names  followed  by  a  conscientious  account  of  their 
past  lives  and  the  part  to  be  played  by  them  in  the 
drama;  the  motivation  of  the  actions  is  very  poor; 
many  plays  seem  to  be  dramatized  narratives  rather 
than  real  dramas ;  there  is  a  great  paucity  of  inven- 

[41] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

tion  as  shown  by  the  rather  frequent  repetition  of 
dramatic  devices  and  motives ;  the  necessity  of  hav- 
ing a  moral  ending  leads  to  numerous  absurdities; 
and  chance  rules  the  playwright's  world  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  always  in  the  interest  of  the  good. 
Furthermore,  there  is  lacking  a  real  sense  of  the 
tragic ;  there  are  no  sublime  heroes  overcome  by  the 
universal  human  limitations  which  they  challenge, 
nor  are  there  moral  conflicts  of  an  elevating  nature 
in  which  poetic  justice  triumphs.  The  characters 
are  in  general  types  rather  than  individuals,  and 
there  is  very  little  deep  psychological  insight  dis- 
played. And  on  the  whole  it  must  be  said,  the  plays 
do  not  rise  to  a  very  high  spiritual  level.  Yet  there 
is  great  charm  in  this  drama  which  brings  on  the 
stage  characters  of  all  sorts  from  emperors  down  to 
coolies,  and  displays  in  full  the  rich  life  in  the 
Middle  Kingdom  of  the  days  when  Marco  Polo 
described  it. 


[42] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

The   Ming   Dynasty — 1368-1644 
The  Pi-Pa-Chi 


jyt<7-yHE  Yuan  Dynasty  of  Mongol  rulers  was 
a  very  powerful  one  and  extended  the 
Chinese  frontiers  to  include  Korea,  Yun- 
nan, Annam,  and  Burma.  The  rulers 
proved  themselves  very  tolerant  of 
Chinese  religions  and  institutions;  the  emperor 
Jen  Tsung  even  reestablished  the  Hanlin  Academy 
and  the  official  examinations.  But  though  the  gov- 
ernment of  these  foreigners  was  fairly  efficient  yet 
it  was  by  no  means  popular,  and  frequent  rebellions 
occurred.  Finally,  the  Chinese  under  the  leadership 
of  a  former  Buddhist  monk,  Chu  Yuan-chang,  drove 
the  Mongols  beyond  the  Great  Wall  and  founded  the 
Ming  Dynasty.  The  ex-monk  ascended  the  throne  in 
1368  and  is  known  in  history  as  Emperor  Hung  Wu. 
The  Ming  Dynasty  is  known  as  a  period  of  pros- 
perity in  which  industry  and  commerce,  as  well  as 
the  arts  of  poetry  and  painting,  flourished.  It  was 
also  a  great  period  for  the  drama.    Over  six  hun- 

[43] 


THE     CHINESE    THEATER 

dred  Ming  dramas  are  still  extant  or  are  at  least 
known  by  title,  and  many  of  them  were  written  by 
well-known  authors  of  high  literary  standing  and 
great  scholarship.  The  drama  was  so  much  appre- 
ciated at  this  time  that  many  high  officials  and 
wealthy  families  had  private  troupes  of  actors,  a 
large  number  of  the  dramas  being  specially  written 
for  these  troupes.  Since  the  audiences  were  com- 
posed of  the  elite,  the  language  of  the  dramas  could 
be  of  a  highly  literary  character. 

A  development  took  place  at  this  time  that  altered 
considerably  the  form  of  the  drama.  Instead  of  the 
compact  and  unified  three,  four,  or  five-act  plays  of 
the  Yuan  period,  playwrights  began  to  produce 
dramas  of  thirty-two,  forty,  or  even  forty-eight 
acts.  The  name  of  this  new  form  is  ch'an  ch'i  (lit- 
erally "novel")  in  distinction  to  the  tsa  ch'i  of  the 
Yuan  Dynasty.  Doctor  Hu  Shih,  writing  to  me 
about  these  two  forms,  suggests  that  one  might  call 
the  former  "  play  "  and  the  latter  "  drama."  "  Tech- 
nically the  new  form  seems  to  be  a  degradation,"  he 
says,  "  but  aside  from  the  aspect  of  literary  economy 
the  Ming  dramas  were  superior  to  the  Yuan  plays 
in  many  respects,  viz.  (i)  profounder  conception. 
(2)  far  better  characterization,  (3)  more  even  dis- 
tribution of  parts  among  the  characters.  In  the 
Yuan  plays  only  one  character  had  a  '  singing '  part 
and  the  others  were  completely  subordinated ;  while 
in  Ming  dramas  the  roles  are  more  evenly  balanced. 
In  many  cases  the  same  theme  was  treated  by  Yuan 

[44] 


» 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

and  Ming  dramatists,  and  in  most  cases  the  Ming 
version  is  far  better." 

In  this  chapter  I  am  presenting  an  example  of  this 
new  variety  of  drama,  a  24-act  piece  called  "  Pi-Pa- 
Chi"  (The  Story  of  a  Lute).  Except  for  the  fact 
that  dialogue  and  stage  directions  are  used  the  work 
might  well  be  called  a  novel.  Aside  from  the  tech- 
nical interest  of  the  drama  it  is  most  significant  as 
a  presentation  of  Confucian  ideals,  a  revival  of 
which  was  typical  likewise  of  the  Ming  Dynasty. 
Such  ideals  are  embodied  in  the  family  system  with 
the  selfishness  —  as  it  appears  to  us  —  of  old  age. 
After  reading  about  the  adventures  of  the  hero, 
Tsai  Yung,  the  Westerner  can  understand  why  in 
Confucian  writings  along  with  widows  and  orphans 
there  are  enumerated  "son-less  fathers."  The  con- 
flict in  the  drama  centers  about  the  "higher"  and 
the  "lower"  obedience  —  service  to  the  state  or  to 
the  family.  But  the  problem  is  not  a  clear-cut  one, 
as  the  son  is  to  serve  the  state  in  the  interest  of  the 
greater  prosperity  of  his  own  family;  nor  can  it  be 
said  that  it  is  solved  in  any  way.  The  drama,  how- 
ever, is  full  of  Chinese  moralizing  along  lines  far 
removed  from  the  thinking  of  the  "  practical " 
Westerner. 

Indeed,  much  of  the  famous  mystery  of  the  East 
or  the  inscrutability  of  the  Orientals  might  be  less 
baffling  to  the  average  American  if  he  were  better 
acquainted  with  the  literature  of  China.  I  have 
known,  for  example,  a  young  Chinese  politician  who 

[45] 


THE    MING    DYNASTY 

was  none  too  scrupulous  in  the  manner  in  which  he 
went  about  earning  his  living,  who  drank,  supported 
a  number  of  concubines,  and  in  fact  was  what  might 
be  called  by  the  vulgar  a  "  rounder."  In  the  course 
of  a  dinner  one  evening  he  told  me  between  the 
sharks'  fins  and  the  Peking  duck  that  he  had  been 
offered  a  post  in  Washington,  but,  lucrative  though 
it  was,  he  could  not  accept  it  because  of  "  filial  piety  " 
—  his  very  words.  Now  piety  in  any  sense  of  the 
word  was  the  last  thing  I  associated  with  this  youth, 
and  therefore  his  statement  seemed  to  me  surpris- 
ing. There  was  another  Chinese,  the  owner  of  an 
excellent  stable,  with  whom  I  went  riding  frequently 
in  the  Temple  of  Heaven.  He  was  a  vigorous  young 
man,  educated  in  Paris,  very  businesslike  and  pro- 
gressive in  all  his  ideas.  One  day  I  received  an  in- 
vitation to  his  wedding,  and,  on  going,  found  a 
merry  throng  in  the  gaily  decorated  courtyard,  with 
dancing  in  European  fashion  going  on  in  full  blast. 
I  noted  the  groom  among  the  dancers,  congratulated 
him  and  remarked,  "Well,  I'm  sure  you're  very 
happy  to-day ! "  But  he  shook  his  head  and,  as  tears 
came  into  his  eyes,  he  told  me  that  the  bride  was  not 
of  his  choice  but  had  been  selected  and  forced  on 
him  by  his  elder  brother,  the  head  of  the  family. 
Again,  in  speaking  one  day  with  a  progressive  young 
student  who  talked  a  great  deal  about  reforms  in 
politics  and  who  participated  eagerly  in  parades  and 
other  demonstrations  staged  for  that  end,  I  men- 
tioned a  certain  official  who  had  flagrantly  stolen 
[46] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

funds  collected  for  the  famine  sufferers.  The  stu- 
dent expressed  perfunctory  disapproval  of  the  offi- 
cial's conduct,  but  added,  "  Still,  if  I  were  in  his 
position,  I  'd  probably  do  the  same."  Such  is  the 
manner  in  which  the  Chinese  act  and  as  such  they 
show  themselves  in  their  literature. 

"  Pi  Pa  Chi "  was  written  by  an  otherwise  un- 
known author,  Kao  Tsi-ch'ing,  about  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  first  performance  of 
the  play  is  known  to  have  taken  place  in  1404,  in  the 
reign  of  Yung  Loh,  the  ruler  who,  as  every  tourist 
knows,  has  the  most  prominent  monument  among 
the  Tombs  of  the  Ming  Emperors  north  of  Peking. 
The  play  is  typically  Chinese  inasmuch  as  the  hero 
is  not  a  warrior  or  a  prince,  but  a  poor  scholar  who 
rises  to  fame  through  his  knowledge  of  literature. 
It  abounds  in  sad  situations  and  is  praised  by  Chinese 
critics  because  it  makes  the  spectators  or  readers 
weep.  Furthermore,  it  conforms  to  the  demand 
made  on  all  Chinese  dramas  by  being  strictly  ethical 
in  its  tendency.  The  moral  lesson  inculcated  is  that 
of  the  chief  virtue  of  the  Chinese  —  veneration  of 
parents.  This  is  done  with  such  devotion  and  force 
that  the  play  might  well  be  called  the  Song  of  Songs 
of  Filial  Piety. 

The  first  scene  introduces  a  young  scholar,  Tsai- 
yung,  face  to  face  with  the  alternatives  of  remain- 
ing in  his  village  to  take  care  of  his  aged  parents  or 
of  going  to  the  capital  in  search  of  honors  and  luc- 
rative posts.    His  own  wishes  are  to  remain  at  home, 

[47] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

less  for  his  parents'  sake  than  because  of  the  beauti- 
ful wife  whom  he  has  married  but  two  months  ago. 
But  his  father  urges  him  to  go  to  Ch'ang  An,  to  use 
his  talents,  and  to  gain  fame  and  wealth.  "  At  fif- 
teen one  must  study,  at  thirty  a  man  must  act."  A 
friend  of  the  family,  an  elderly  gentleman  called 
Chang,  sides  with  the  father  against  the  mother,  who 
wishes  to  keep  her  son  at  home.  She  tells  the  story 
of  a  young  man  who  had  left  his  family  to  take  the 
examination  at  the  capital,  but  who,  when  at  last  his 
learning  had  gained  him  a  post  as  superintendent  of 
an  almshouse,  found  his  parents  as  inmates  in  the 
very  institution.  The  young  wife  takes  no  part  in 
the  discussion  at  all ;  in  fact,  the  elderly  gentlemen 
seem  to  consider  affection  for  her  an  unmanly  weak- 
ness on  the  son's  part.  "  He  thinks  of  nothing  but 
love  and  the  sweet  pleasures  of  the  nuptial  couch," 
says  his  father.  "  Here  it 's  two  months  that  he  is 
married,  and  yet  one  cannot  tear  him  away  from 
this  place."  This  represents  a  very  common  attitude 
in  China  —  I  remember  reading  in  a  Peking  paper 
in  191 7  in  an  attack  on  the  vice-president  of  Tsing 
Hua  College  that  one  of  his  faults  was  that  he  oc- 
casionally went  walking  with  his  wife !  One  of  my 
students  from  Shansi  told  me  one  day  that  he  had 
been  married  during  the  summer  vacation.  I  asked 
whether  his  wife  was  with  him  in  Peking,  and  when 
he  answered  in  the  negative,  whether  he  was  writ- 
ing to  her.  "Oh,  no,"  he  said  shamefacedly,  "I 
would  n't  do  such  a  thing." 
[48] 


A  CHINESE  ARTIST'S  CONCEPTION  OF  TWO   PIOUS  SOULS 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

The  father  calls  on  the  son  to  state  what  he  un- 
derstands by  filial  piety.  The  son  answers  by  quot- 
ing the  "  Book  of  Rites,"  "  It  is  the  duty  of  the  son 
to  take  every  care  that  in  summer  as  well  as  in 
winter  his  parents  should  enjoy  all  comforts  of  life. 
He  must  every  evening  himself  arrange  the  bed  on 
which  they  are  to  sleep;  every  morning  at  the  first 
crowning  of  the  cock  he  must  inquire  in  aflfectionate 
terms  about  the  state  of  their  health;  then,  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  he  must  ask  repeatedly  whether 
they  are  suffering  from  the  cold  or  whether  the  heat 
incommodes  them.  The  duty  of  the  son  is  to  watch 
over  his  parents  wherever  they  go,  to  love  those 
whom  they  love,  honor  those  whom  they  honor ;  he 
must  even  love  the  horses  and  dogs  whom  his  father 
loves."  And  he  adds  from  the  "  Sayings  of  Confu- 
cius": "A  son  should  not  leave  the  home  of  his  father 
and  his  mother  so  long  as  they  are  still  living." 

To  this  the  father  retorts  with  a  quotation  from 
"The  Book  of  Filial  Piety";  "The  first  degree  of 
filial  piety  consists  in  serving  one's  parents ;  the  sec- 
ond in  serving  one's  prince,  and  the  third  in  seeking 
after  honors."  The  father  persuades  the  son  to  go. 
His  son  will  soon  be  a  mandarin,  he  says,  and  then, 
"  The  three  kinds  of  meat  (beef,  mutton  and  pork) 
and  the  rare  foods  which  are  offered  up  in  the  great 
sacrifices  will  be  served  to  me  three  times  a  day 
in  tripods  of  elegant  form  or  in  dishes  of  fine  porce- 
lain. That  will  be  better  than  eating  beans  and 
drinking:  water." 


't5 


[49] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

But  the  mother  gives  expression  to  her  grief  in  a 
metaphor  praised  by  Chinese  commentators :  "  In  a 
moment  they  will  tear  away  the  pearl  I  was  holding 
in  my  hand."  Forebodings  of  evil  fill  her  heart. 
"  Go  then,  my  son,  but  if  during  your  absence  your 
father  and  mother  should  die  of  hunger  and  cold, 
your  honor  will  not  therefore  be  smirched  when  you 
return  in  an  embroidered  robe." 

The  second  scene  of  the  play  transfers  the  action 
to  Ch'ang  An,  the  old  capital.  With  the  symmetry 
so  characteristic  of  all  Chinese  art  the  action  of  the 
drama  is  divided  almost  equally  between  the  scenes 
in  Tsai-yung's  native  village,  and  those  in  the  im- 
perial city.  We  are  introduced  into  the  palace  of  an 
imperial  minister,  a  certain  Niu,  and  here  through 
the  words  of  a  maidservant  we  learn  of  the  dull, 
tedious,  joyless  life  in  the  women's  apartments. 
The  author  pictures  the  minister's  daughter,  Niu- 
hsi,  as  the  model  young  woman  who  prefers  work- 
ing at  embroidery  to  playing  in  the  open  air.  The 
servant  girl  on  the  other  hand  is  sad  because  spring 
(used  symbolically  for  love)  is  passing  her  by.  In  a 
beautiful  allegory  on  spring  and  its  manifestations 
she  gives  expression  to  her  feelings,  while  her  mis- 
tress cites  in  reply  the  ancient  Chinese  rule  of 
conduct :  "Women  must  not  leave  the  interior  apart- 
ments." The  scene  seems  to  be  a  protest  on  the 
author's  part  against  this  cruel  stunting  of  the  lives 
of  his  countrywomen. 

Into  Minister  Niu's  house  come  two  rival  go- 

[So] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

betweens  who  make  offers  of  marriage  for  Niu's 
daughter  in  the  interest  of  two  fathers  of  distin- 
guished sons.  But  Niu  refuses;  he  will  accept  for 
his  daughter  none  but  the  scholar  who  has  won  the 
very  highest  honors  at  the  examinations.  The  two 
women  begin  to  quarrel  and  are  driven  off  with 
blows  by  Niu's  orders,  because  by  fighting  in  his 
house  they  offend  against  the  rites.  A  marriage 
arranged  by  such  wrangling  old  hags  between  young 
people  who  meet  for  the  first  time  on  the  day  of 
their  wedding  certainly  does  not  offer  much  in  the 
way  of  romance.  An  even  more  depressing  picture 
of  the  life  of  the  young  girl  one  gains  from  the  man- 
ner in  which  Niu  takes  his  daughter  to  task  for  hav- 
ing walked  in  the  garden.  "Don't  you  know  of 
what  the  principal  merit  of  a  young  woman  con- 
sists? I  have  told  you  before,  men  are  looking  for 
women  who  don't  like  to  leave  the  women's  apart- 
ments." Everywhere  the  ghost  of  Confucius  giving 
precepts  for  the  regulation  of  the  private  life  down 
to  the  minutest  details! 

The  play  returns  to  Tsai-yung,  who  is  now  on  the 
road  to  the  capital  in  the  company  of  three  other 
candidates  for  the  examination.  Each  in  turn  tells 
of  the  purpose  of  his  studies.  Tsai-yung  outlines 
his  principles  as  follows : 

"Here  is  the  method  I  have  adopted.  When  I 
was  seated  I  read,  when  I  walked  I  recited  from 
memory  what  I  had  learned.  I  have  studied  thor- 
oughly ten  thousand  chapters;  I  have  carried  on 

[51] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

difficult  studies  and  researches.  But  as  there  are 
two  things  in  Hfe  that  one  must  never  lose  sight  of 
—  loyalty  to  the  prince  and  filial  piety — I  have  al- 
ways tried  to  show  myself  grateful  for  the  emper- 
or's benefits  and  to  return  with  thankfulness  the 
kindness  of  my  parents."  This  speech  is  applauded 
by  the  other  scholars  and  they  in  turn  give  their 
answers,  some  of  which  are  of  rather  satirical  turn, 
especially  the  one  of  the  student  who  explains  that 
with  him  the  essential  is  correct  pronunciation  and 
beautiful  penmanship ! 

The  next  scene  presents  a  burlesque  on  the  lit- 
erary examinations.  It  recalls  somewhat  an  en- 
trance examination  given  in  a  "  prep"  school  I  once 
attended,  where  the  older  students,  dressed  up  in 
frock  coats  and  with  false  beards  on  their  faces, 
took  the  part  of  faculty.  The  examination  of  fresh- 
men consisted  of  the  singing  of  hymns,  the  shining 
of  shoes,  and  a  guessing  contest  as  to  which  of  the 
"professors"  had  paddled  them  in  the  rear.  The 
imperial  examiner  announces  solemnly  to  the  five 
hundred  candidates  that  the  present  test  would  not 
be  like  last  year's,  when  they  had  been  asked  to  write 
essays,  one  on  literature,  another  on  morals,  and  a 
third  on  politics,  but  that  he  was  going  to  ask  them 
first,  to  compose  a  rhyme ;  second,  to  guess  a  riddle ; 
and  third,  to  sing  a  song.  Needless  to  state,  Tsai- 
yung  passes  with  flying  colors  in  this  test  full  of 
humorous  puns  which  are,  of  course,  untranslatable. 
The  examiner  is  made  to  say  at  the  end,  "Tsai- 
[52] 


A    SCHOLAR 

Chinese  Character  Type 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 


difficult  studies  and  researches.    But  as  |  there  are 
two  thi  'ife  that  one  must  never  lo.'le  sight  of 

—  1  .  e  and  filial  piety — \L  have  al- 

ii grateful  for  the 
-  urn  with  thankfuliu       ..:c 
rents."   This  speech  is  applauded 
and  they  in  turn  give  their 
ire  of  rather  satirical  turn, 
'■"'''•"  '•  "lo  explains  that 
•nunciation  and 


\va 
or  ~ 
kiii 

by  the 

answer>,  avr.iv;     i 
especially  the  t»nt 
with  him  the  esst- 
beautiful  pennlan^l 

The  next  scene  presents  a  b»; 
erary  examinations.    It 
trance  examination  given  .,, 
attended,  where  the  older  b 
frock  coats  and  with  false  beards 
took  the  part  of  faculty.   Th<r 
men  consisted  of  the  singi; 
of  shoes,  and  a  guessing  c-  . . 
"professors"  had  paddled  thon>  •• 
imperial  examiner  announce 
hundred  candidates  that  the  ; 
be  like  last  year's,  when  thc\  :, 
essays,  one  on  literature,  a  iv  i 
third  on  politics,  but  that  he  • 
first,  to  compose  a  rhyme :  sev ' 
and  third,  to  sing  a  song.    !" 
yung  passes  with  flying  v 
humorous  puns  which  are. 
The  examiner  is  made  to  say  ar  the  end, 

[52] 


on  the  lit- 

an  en- 

'  I  once 

up  in 

faces, 


Mve 

not 

write 

.  and  a 

.  ask  them 

^  • :     s  a  riddle ; 

•e,  Tsai- 

.-  .c^L  full  of 

untranslatable. 

Tsai- 


XAJOHOa   A 


THE    MING    DYNASTY 

yung,  I  recognize  the  superiority  of  your  talents, 
your  learning  is  indeed  profound ;  you  rise  far  above 
the  others;  your  merit  is  most  extraordinary.  Im- 
mediately I  am  going  to  apprise  the  emperor  of  the 
outcome  of  the  examinations!"  This  scene  leads 
one  to  suspect  that  the  author  of  the  play  had 
good  reasons  for  venting  his  satire  on  the  inane 
literary  competitions  —  probably  he  had  failed  and 
was  therefore  forced  to  waste  his  talents  in  a  life 
of  retirement. 

The  real  hero,  or  rather  heroine,  of  the  play  now 
appears  for  the  first  time,  namely  Tsai-yung's  young 
wife  Wu-niang.  No  news  has  come  from  the  capital 
as  to  her  husband's  success,  a  famine  is  ravishing 
the  district,  and  the  old  parents  of  Tsai-yung  are 
making  one  trip  to  the  pawnshop  after  the  other. 
But  Wu-niang  is  determined  to  do  her  duty  as 
daughter-in-law ;  she  is  going  to  show  filial  piety  to 
the  last  in  conformity  with  precepts  such  as  the  fol- 
lowing, quoted  from  the  "Book  of  Rewards  and 
Punishments  ",  a  work  which  is  not  for  sale  in  book- 
shops but  is  distributed  in  the  temples  to  the  pious: 
"  A  daughter-in-law  must  serve  the  father  and 
mother  of  her  husband  as  a  daughter  serves  her 
father  and  mother.  She  must  show  filial  piety  and 
complete  obedience.  If  she  lacks  in  her  duty  toward 
them  she  lacks  at  the  same  time  filial  piety.  This 
crime  always  becomes  known  to  Heaven,  as  the  fol- 
lowing story  illustrates.  In  the  territory  of  Chang- 
Chu  there  were  three  sisters-in-law  entirely  lacking 

[53] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

in  filial  piety.  One  day  they  heard  a  clap  of  thunder 
and  at  the  same  time  they  were  changed :  one  into  a 
cow,  the  second  into  a  lamb,  and  the  third  into  a 
dog;  their  heads  alone  preserved  the  original  form. 
.  .  .  Chin-ing,  the  governor  of  that  district,  had  an 
engraving  made  showing  the  metamorphoses  and 
had  it  distributed  among  the  people  to  teach  them  a 
lesson.    That  is  how  Heaven  punishes!" 

Wu-niang's  immediate  duty  is  to  try  to  make 
peace  between  her  aged  parents-in-law.  Tsai's  wife 
is  not  slow  in  telling  her  husband  "  I  told  you  so  " 
in  regard  to  the  evils  that  have  followed  their  son's 
departure,  while  Tsai  naturally  enough  does  not  be- 
come any  calmer  for  being  told  what  a  fool  he  is. 
To  appease  their  wrath  and  to  supply  a  bit  of  food 
Wu-niang  pawns  the  few  hairpins  and  other  orna- 
ments that  she  possesses. 

While  his  parents  are  slowly  dying  of  hunger, 
Tsai-yung,  by  his  brilliant  record,  has  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  emperor  himself.  The  latter  orders 
that  the  daughter  of  Minister  Niu,  who  has  been  re- 
fused to  many  a  deserving  suitor,  should  be  given  to 
him.  Niu  is  overjoyed  to  receive  as  a  son-in-law 
the  candidate  accorded  the  highest  honors  and  im- 
mediately sends  a  go-between  to  arrange  the  affair. 
However,  she  returns  to  announce  that  Tsai-yung 
refuses,  because  he  is  married  and  has  various  ob- 
ligations toward  his  parents.  But  the  real  reason, 
she  whispers,  is  that  the  bride's  feet  are  too  long. 
Minister  Niu  flies  into  a  rage;  he  says  that  no  one 

[54] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

would  any  longer  respect  his  position  if  he  were  to 
accept  this  refusal.  He  is  going  to  speak  to  the  em- 
peror about  it.  Small  wonder  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances Tsai-yung's  petition  to  the  emperor  to 
be  allowed  to  return  home  is  refused;  instead  he  is 
again  ordered  to  marry  Niu-hsi  in  a  mandate  begin- 
ning with  the  words,  "  If  filial  piety  is  the  basis  of 
all  virtues,  then  the  perfection  of  all  morals  consists 
in  serving  one's  prince."  With  tears  he  leaves  the 
imperial  palace  and  must  submit  to  being  married 
against  his  wishes  to  a  second  wife.  He  regrets 
that  he  cannot  return  to  his  parents  (does  not  seem 
to  feel  any  regrets  about  Wu-niang)  and  breaks  out 
into  a  lamentation :  "  High  reputation  is  a  tie  that 
binds ;  good  fortune  is  an  iron  chain.  Fortune  and 
reputation  are  the  instruments  used  by  Heaven  to 
inflict  tortures  on  mankind ! " 

The  scene  again  shifts  to  the  famine-stricken 
province.  A  mandarin  finds  that  a  corrupt  official 
has  stolen  the  little  grain  that  is  to  be  distributed  to 
the  poor.  This  commissioner  is  caught  in  the  very 
act,  yet  in  typical  Chinese  fashion  he  has  a  ready 
but  translucent  excuse  to  offer ;  however,  when  he  is 
threatened  with  torture  he  is  willing  to  confess  that 
he  is  a  robber.  This  wicked  official  is  then  made  to 
sign  a  written  confession  of  his  guilt  and  is  led  off 
to  jail.  His  kind  appears  in  hundreds  of  plays;  in 
fact,  he  is  probably  the  very  favorite  type  on  the 
Chinese  stage.  The  mandarin  asks  Wu-niang  why 
she  had  come  to  the  court  herself  instead  of  sending 

[55] 


I 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

a  male  member  of  the  family;  a  woman,  he  says, 
should  not  leave  the  inner  apartments  of  the  house. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  a  Chinese  commentator 
considers  this  an  erroneous  interpretation  of  the 
passage  in  the  "  Book  of  Rites  " ;  it  is  only  the  young 
girl  who  is  not  to  leave  the  inner  apartments ;  once 
a  woman  is  married  she  may  do  so.  When  the  man- 
darin learns  of  Wu-niang's  sad  situation,  he  com- 
mands an  attendant  to  give  her  three  portions  of  the 
rice  embezzled  by  the  official.  Another  official,  who 
seems  to  be  hand  in  glove  with  the  embezzler,  fol- 
lows Wu-niang  and  in  a  lonely  place  on  the  road 
demands  that  she  return  the  rice,  lest  he  kill  her  on 
the  spot.  Wu-niang  ofifers  him  her  clothes;  if  he 
will  only  not  demand  the  food  that  is  to  save  the 
lives  of  the  old  people.  The  black-hearted  villain 
says  that  he  wants  the  rice  and  does  not  care  to  ex- 
pose her  limbs  to  the  fury  of  the  elements.  Then 
comes  the  young  woman's  touching  answer,  which 
reaches  perhaps  the  highest  level  of  a  daughter's 
devotion :  "  What  matters  it  if  my  body  be  exposed 
to  the  fury  of  the  elements,  so  long  as  I  can  save  the 
lives  of  my  father-in-law  and  my  mother-in-law ! " 
The  cowardly  wretch  pretends  to  be  touched  and  bids 
her  go  her  way  in  peace,  but  as  soon  as  she  is  off  her 
guard  he  snatches  from  the  defenseless  woman  her 
bag  of  rice.  Fearing  the  reproaches  of  her  parents- 
in-law  Wu-niang  plans  suicide,  but  the  memory  of 
her  husband's  admonition  that  she  watch  over  his 
parents  decides  her  to  continue  in  the  thankless  task. 

[56] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

The  next  scenes  show  just  how  ungrateful  her 
parents-in-law  are  for  her  unlimited  devotion.  Wu- 
niang  herself  is  eating  roots,  buds,  the  bark  of  trees, 
and  other  things  classified  as  material  containing 
some  slight  food  values  in  so-called  "  famine  food 
books  "  —  a  type  of  literature  enjoying  a  wide  cir- 
culation in  China.  But  her  suspicious  mother-in- 
law  fears  that  the  young  woman  is  eating  better 
food  than  she  is  serving  to  her,  because  Wu-niang 
eats  her  miserable  stew  in  private.  At  one  of  her 
meals  the  author,  by  a  strange  realism,  has  her  say, 
"When  I  have  eaten  this  mess  my  hunger  ceases, 
but  then  there  begin  pains  in  the  intestines  much 
more  violent  than  the  hunger  had  been."  When  the 
mother-in-law  surprises  her  she  finds  that  Wu- 
niang  had  been  extremely  self-sacrificing  instead  of 
selfish  as  she  had  supposed,  and  the  shock  is  too 
much  for  her  weakened  body ;  she  dies. 

The  husband  too  is  very  much  enfeebled,  and 
when  the  friend  of  the  family,  Chang,  comes  to  call, 
he  is  mortified  that  he  cannot  rise  to  meet  his  guest. 
Throughout  the  play  there  is  in  the  speeches  of 
practically  all  the  characters  an  urbanity  and  a  po- 
liteness which  show  how  deeply  the  lessons  of  Con- 
fucius to  do  or  say  always  the  fitting  thing  have 
gone  over  into  the  flesh  and  blood  of  his  nationals. 
Wu-niang  tells  Chang  of  their  greatest  cause  for 
anguish  —  they  have  not  the  means  to  give  the  de- 
ceased a  proper  burial.  Chang  then  shows  himself 
an  ideal  friend  from  the  Chinese  point  of  view  by 

[57] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

saying,  "  I  shall  order  a  servant  to  prepare  a  wooden 
coffin  in  which  we  shall  place  the  body  of  your  wife. 
I  myself  shall  then  select  a  lucky  day  for  the  funeral, 
and  after  having  had  a  grave  dug  on  the  hill  in  the 
south,  I  shall  accompany  the  procession." 

The  scene  that  gives  the  title  to  the  play  is  one  in 
which  Tsai-yung  gives  expression  to  his  tenderest 
emotion  by  playing  on  the  lute.  This  instrument  is 
regarded  by  the  Chinese  as  the  noblest  and  aestheti- 
cally the  highest  musical  instrument  in  existence. 
A  Chinese  lover  of  music  cannot  find  words  to  ex- 
press the  delight  the  lute  can  provide.*  As  a  general 
thing  the  Chinese  are  ashamed  to  display  emotion, 
and  the  Westerner  is  often  shocked  by  apparent  cal- 
lousness, as  for  example  when  a  person  who  has  just 
lost  a  dear  relative  gives  vent  to  a  nervous  laugh  in- 
stead of  yielding  to  tears  when  the  subject  is  alluded 
to.  Therefore  it  is  by  means  of  the  lute  that  Tsai- 
yung  gives  expression  to  his  repressed  feelings.  He 
does  this  with  the  delicate  touch  employed  by  Chinese 
painters  in  their  impressionistic  pictures  and  by  the 
poets  in  their  suggestive  verses  in  which,  as  some 
one  has  said,  the  i's  are  never  dotted,  but  a  definite 


'  The  Chinese  name  for  the  instrument  is  chin.  Chinese  writers 
on  music  have  set  down  seven  conditions  under  which  one  should  not 
play  the  instrument:  when  one  has  just  heard  the  news  of  a  death; 
when  some  one  is  playing  the  flute  in  the  vicinity;  when  one  is  op- 
pressed by  business  cares ;  when  one  has  not  purified  his  body ;  when 
one  is  not  wearing  the  ceremonial  cap  and  gown ;  when  one  has  not 
lighted  sweet-smelling  incense ;  and  when  there  is  not  present  a  friend 
who  understands  music.  Chancellor  Tsai  Yuan-pei,  until  1923  the 
head  of  the  National  University  in  Peking,  was  a  believer  in  training  in 
aesthetics,  and  considered  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  music  of  the  chin 
a  most  desirable  element  in  the  mental  equipment  of  a  cultured  man. 

[58] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

mood  is  nevertheless  conveyed  all  the  more  force- 
fully/ While  Tsai-yung  touches  the  strings  of  his 
instrument  one  servant  fans  him  with  an  ivory  fan, 
and  a  second  burns  incense,  and  a  third  places 
his  books  before  him.  Under  such  ideal  condi- 
tions the  Chinese  scholar  is  quietly  singing  to  his 
lute. 

At  this  point  his  newly  wedded  wife,  Niu-hsi, 
enters.  Evidently  the  relation  between  the  two  is 
still  an  extremely  distant  one,  for  his  wife,  in  asking 
Tsai-yung  to  sing  a  ballad  for  her,  remarks  that 
every  time  she  comes  to  listen  to  his  music,  he  stops. 
She  too  has  her  grief  which  she  would  like  to  have 
dispelled  by  sweet  music.  Tsai-yung  begins  to  play, 
"  The  pheasant  in  the  morning  begins  his  long 
flight",  and  "The  wild  duck  separated  from  the 
companion  he  loves."  But  these  songs  do  not  suit 
Niu-hsi's  mood.  She  wants  not  a  song  of  a  disap- 
pointed lover,  but  one  to  fit  the  present  situation 
where  husband  and  wife  are  together. 

"  My  lord,  in  the  calm  of  this  lovely  evening,  in 
full  view  of  this  ravishingly  beautiful  scenery,  sing 


'  Giles,  "  Qiinese  Literature  ",  page  155.  "A  poet  should  not  dot 
his  i's.  The  Chinese  reader  likes  to  do  that  for  himself,  each  accord- 
ing to  his  own  fancy.  Hence  such  a  poem  as  the  following,  often 
quoted  as  a  model  in  its  own  particular  line : 

"  A  tortoise  I  see 

on  a  lotus-flower  resting: 
A  bird  mid  the  reeds 

and  the  rushes  is  nesting ; 
A  light  skiflf  propelled 

by  some  boatman's  fair  daughter. 
Whose  song  dies  away 

o'er  the  fast-flowing  water." 

[59] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

me  the  ballad, '  When  the  storm  wind  moves  the  pine 
trees.'"  Tsai-yung  starts  to  play  it,  but  alas!  as 
Niu-hsi  discovers,  he  gradually  slips  into  the  air, 
"When  I  think  of  returning  to  my  native  land." 

Niu-hsi  is  disappointed  because  she  cannot  pene- 
trate her  husband's  melancholy  mood.  He  explains 
that  he  cannot  play  better  because  he  has  his  old 
lute  no  longer.  In  answer  to  his  wife's  questions 
Tsai-yung  speaks  of  his  lute  with  evident  symbolism, 
telling  her  that  he  has  thrown  his  old  lute  aside  but 
that  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  loves  it  still.  Niu- 
bsi  guesses  the  cause  of  her  husband's  grief,  but  she 
cannot  persuade  him  to  confide  it  to  her.  The  two 
drink  wine  together  and  recite  verses,  but  when  the 
hour  becomes  late  Tsai-yung  asks  his  wife  to  retire 
and  calls  for  his  servant.  Before  the  latter  appears 
Tsai-yung  sings  to  notes  of  his  lute  about  a  dream  in 
which  Wu-niang  had  appeared  to  him ;  but,  in  the 
words  of  Heine,  "  Es  war  ein  Traum." 

He  asks  the  servant  to  find  him  a  trustworthy 
messenger  whom  he  may  send  to  his  native  village 
to  inquire  about  his  parents.  But  before  this  plan  is 
put  into  operation  an  impostor  appears,  bringing  an 
alleged  letter  from  Tsai-yung's  father,  according  to 
which  all  the  family  are  enjoying  the  very  best  of 
health.  The  letter  gives  the  young  scholar  great 
pleasure  and  earns  its  bearer  a  rich  reward;  Tsai- 
yung  gives  the  impostor  some  pearls  and  some  gold 
for  his  father  in  addition  to  a  letter  in  which  he  states 
that  he  is  detained  at  the  capital,  but  that  he  hopes  to 
[60] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

return  home  soon.  Meanwhile,  he  very  humbly 
begs  forgiveness  for  the  long  delay.  The  false 
messenger  is  portrayed  in  a  monologue  as  the  most 
cowardly  and  the  direst  of  villains.  That  it  is  so 
easy  for  him  to  deceive  Tsai-yung  is  not  so  far- 
fetched as  it  may  seem  to  the  Westerner,  for  the 
employment  of  professional  letter-writers  is  a  very 
common  practice  in  China  where  the  percentage  of 
illiteracy  is  high. 

Of  course,  the  father  never  receives  his  son's 
letter;  on  the  contrary,  the  next  scene  shows  him 
dying  of  hunger.  His  faithful  daughter-in-law 
watches  over  him  to  the  last.  For  three  years  Tsai- 
yung  has  been  absent  without  so  much  as  sending  a 
letter;  therefore  the  father  asks  his  daughter-in-law 
to  marry  again  as  soon  as  he  has  died.  Wu-niang 
replies  with  a  Chinese  proverb,  "  No  one  can  serve 
two  masters",  and  affirms  her  resolve  to  remain 
faithful  to  her  husband.  He  is  so  grateful  to  her 
that  he  hopes,  according  to  Buddhist  beliefs,  to  be 
her  daughter-in-law  in  his  next  life  while  she  is  to 
be  his  father-in-law.  He  curses  the  day  he  asked 
his  son  to  leave  home  and  gives  to  his  friend  Chang 
the  injunction:  "I  leave  you  my  cane.  When  this 
ungrateful  and  disobedient  son  of  mine  returns 
home,  beat  him  for  me  with  my  stick  and  chase  him 
out  of  the  house."  With  these  fatherly  words  he 
breathes  his  last. 

In  order  to  earn  the  money  for  her  father-in- 
law's  funeral  Wu-niang  cuts  her  hair  and  tries  to 

[6i] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

sell  it  in  the  street.  Her  bald  head  gives  her  the 
appearance  of  a  nun,  although  she  feels  scarcely 
worthy  of  becoming  one.  In  the  anguish  of  her 
poverty  she  runs  through  the  streets,  imploring  peo- 
ple not  to  bargain  with  a  wretched  woman  in  her 
position,  but  to  help  her  by  buying  the  very  last 
thing  of  value  she  possesses.  The  faithful  Chang 
meets  her  in  the  street,  and,  on  learning  her  story, 
promises  to  send  to  her  house  enough  money  to  en- 
able her  to  bury  her  father-in-law  properly  accord- 
ing to  the  rites.  She  in  return  gives  him  her  hair, 
asking  him  to  sell  it.  He  accepts  it,  but  not  in  order 
to  sell  it ;  far  from  that,  he  is  going  to  keep  it  until 
Tsai-yung's  return,  in  order  to  prove  to  him  the  full 
extent  of  Wu-niang's  filial  piety.  This  piety  is  so 
great  that  when  Wu-niang  goes  to  the  cemetery  to 
erect  a  monument  over  the  grave  of  the  deceased, 
a  genie,  touched  by  her  devotion,  comes  to  her  aid 
by  calling  the  white  monkey  of  the  south  and  the 
black  tiger  of  the  north  to  help  him  erect  this  tomb 
with  the  well-known  speed  and  skill  that  genii 
possess.  He  also  advises  Wu-niang  through  the 
medium  of  a  dream  to  assume  the  garb  of  a  nun  and 
to  search  for  her  husband  in  the  capital.  Wu-niang 
decides  to  follow  this  advice.  She  plans  to  earn  her 
subsistence  by  taking  with  her  Tsai-yung's  lute,  in 
order  to  sing  in  the  villages  songs  in  praise  of  filial 
piety.  In  order  to  be  able  to  accord  the  spirits  of 
her  parents-in-law  their  proper  worship  she  paints 
their  portraits  and  carries  them  with  her.  The 
[62] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

Octogenarian  Chang  totters  with  Wu-niang  to  the 
edge  of  the  village  and  bids  her  godspeed  on  her 
long  journey. 

Meanwhile  Tsai-yung  has  been  acting  all  this 
time  like  a  man  in  a  stupor,  his  wife  says.  Niu-hsi 
is  pictured  as  a  kindly  young  woman  watching  over 
her  husband  with  loving  care.  "What  ails  you?" 
she  asks.  "You  have  the  finest  delicacies  served 
you.  You  eat  boiled  tongues  of  orang-outang  and 
roasted  leopard  embryos.  You  wear  robes  of  violet 
silk ;  your  belt  is  a  belt  of  jade.  When  you  go  out  or 
when  you  return  your  horse  crushes  under  foot  all 
manner  of  flowers  which  people  spread  on  your 
path.  Your  head  is  shaded  by  an  umbrella  with 
three  layers  of  silk.  Formerly  you  were  only  a  poor 
scholar  living  in  a  thatched  hut;  now  you  fulfill  the 
highest  functions  in  the  emperor's  palace.  You 
swim  in  wealth,  but  this  wealth  is  not  sufficient  for 
you ;  you  do  nothing  but  wrinkle  your  forehead  and 
heave  sighs." 

Niu-hsi  asks  many  more  questions,  but  her  hus- 
band refuses  to  reveal  the  cause  of  his  grief.  But 
when  she  leaves  the  room  Tsai-yung  relieves  his 
feelings  in  a  monologue  which  she  overhears.  When 
he  has  finished  lamenting  his  separation  from  his 
parents  and  his  wife  (the  latter  is  always  mentioned 
after  father  and  mother),  Niu-hsi  comes  in  to  say 
simply  that  she  will  travel  with  him  to  his  native 
village,  if  that  is  what  he  is  longing  for.  He  retorts, 
with  the  timidity  found  in  most  scholar-heroes  in 

[63] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Chinese  plays,  that  he  is  afraid  to  let  her  father  hear 
of  the  matter  and  that  he  therefore  forbids  her  to 
mention  it.  But  the  otherwise  docile  and  obedient 
wife  simply  overrides  his  wishes  and  takes  the  mat- 
ter to  her  father.  The  latter  is  quite  willing  to  give 
his  permission  for  the  journey;  only  suggests  that 
it  might  be  better  to  send  a  faithful  servant  to  bring 
Tsai-yung's  parents  and  wife  to  the  capital.  This 
plan  is  agreed  to  by  all  except  the  servant  who,  in 
a  somewhat  humorous  scene,  speaks  of  the  evils  that 
are  sure  to  follow  when  two  wives  are  living  under 
one  roof.  But  at  last  he  agrees  to  go,  even  though  he 
feels  his  mistress  will  never  thank  him  for  having 
obeyed  on  this  occasion. 

Wu-niang  has  meanwhile  reached  the  capital. 
She  enters  a  Buddhist  temple  where  she  is  asked  to 
sing  by  two  clowns  who  pretend  to  be  mandarins. 
The  long  series  of  misfortunes  that  has  followed 
her  consistently  does  not  forsake  her  at  this  point  — 
the  two  clowns  simply  make  sport  of  her  and  pay  her 
nothing.  After  her  disappointment  she  unrolls  the 
pictures  of  her  parents-in-law  to  render  homage  be- 
fore them  and  to  pray  to  Heaven  that  she  may  find 
her  husband.  At  this  very  moment  Tsai-yung  enters 
to  pray  for  a  safe  journey  for  his  parents.  The 
bonze  asks  Wu-niang  to  leave  and  to  make  room  for 
the  great  man.  She  forgets  the  pictures  in  her  haste, 
and  Tsai-yung  carries  off  the  scroll  without  having 
looked  at  it  closely.  But  Wu-niang  recognizes  him 
and  makes  inquiries  in  regard  to  his  residence.    In 

[64] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

this  whole  scene  there  is,  as  in  many  Chinese  plays, 
a  great  deal  of  satire  on  Buddhist  priests.  One 
priest  while  saying  a  prayer  is  corrected  by  the  ab- 
bot for  mispronouncing  one  of  the  Sanskrit  names 
for  Buddha,  Po-lo-t'ang  instead  of  Po-lo-mi.  The 
ignorant  priest  retorts,  "  Well,  '  fang '  is  sugar  and 
'mi'  is  honey;  both  are  sweet,  so  what  difference 
does  it  make?"  An  Occidental  parallel  for  this 
scene  would  be  the  medieval  priest  who  baptized, 
"  In  nomine  patriae,  filiae,  et  spiritus  sanctae." 

Wu-niang  goes  to  her  husband's  house  as  a  men- 
dicant nun  and  meets  Niu-hsi.  In  a  scene  which  the 
Chinese  commentators  consider  the  best  in  the  play 
she  gradually  tells  her  story  and  reveals  her  identity 
to  her  husband's  second  wife.  Niu-hsi  is  touched 
by  the  filial  piety  of  Wu-niang,  calls  her  sister,  and 
asks  her  to  live  with  them.  First  she  advises  her 
how  to  reveal  herself  to  her  husband,  namely  by 
writing  him  a  letter  and  placing  it  on  his  table  in 
the  library  where  he  will  be  sure  to  find  it.  When 
Tsai-yung  comes  home  he  reads  in  the  "  Book  of 
Annals",  a  collection  of  historical  illustrations  se- 
lected by  Confucius  to  give  point  to  his  moral  teach- 
ings. In  every  passage  he  finds  a  rebuke  for  his 
lack  of  filial  piety,  and  when  he  finds  Wu-niang's 
letter  with  the  picture  of  his  parents  in  their  fam- 
ished condition  this  means  to  him  a  greater  reproof 
still.  He  begins  to  suspect  that  the  messenger  with 
the  letter  from  his  father  had  been  an  impostor. 
His  wife's  letter  contains  nothing  but  hidden  allu- 

[65] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

sions  to  his  actions.  Among  ancient  examples  quoted 
there  is  mention  of  one  man  to  whom  an  emperor 
had  offered  his  daughter  but  who  had  refused  to 
degrade  his  wife  to  the  rank  of  a  concubine,  and  of 
another  who  had  under  similar  circumstances  re- 
pudiated his  wife.  Niu-hsi  asks  him  whose  conduct 
he  approves  of  and  he  says  the  former's,  of  course. 
Then  she  asks  whether,  if  his  first  wife  were  to  step 
before  him  now  clad  in  rags,  he  would  not  blush 
with  shame  and  repudiate  her?  He  answers  that  he 
would  not,  that  he  considers  his  marriage  indis- 
soluble. When  Wu-niang  appears  and  tells  him  her 
story  he  feels  deep  shame  because  an  ironic  fate  had 
led  him  to  serve  his  emperor  but  to  neglect  his  par- 
ents. Since  his  parents  have  died  Chinese  etiquette 
demands  that  he  give  up  his  office  for  a  number  of 
years  and  mourn  for  the  death  of  his  father  and 
mother.  Tsai-yung  with  his  two  wives  sets  out  to 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  ancestral  tomb  to  offer 
proper  worship  to  the  deceased.  The  emperor  is 
going  to  give  posthumous  honors  to  his  parents  be- 
cause of  Wu-niang's  faithfulness,  and  the  historians 
will  keep  ever  fresh  the  memory  of  the  daughter-in- 
law's  filial  piety. 

Even  after  the  death  of  his  parents  the  son  must 
put  their  interests  (or  supposed  interests)  above  his 
own  by  a  three-year  period  of  mourning,  a  space  of 
time  which  is  simply  lost  out  of  his  life.  In  his 
"  Chinese  Characteristics  ",  Doctor  Arthur  H.  Smith 
points  out  the  one-sidedness  of  the  matter  of  filial 
[66] 


THE     MING    DYNASTY 

piety  —  the  Chinese  ethical  code  mentions  no  duties 
of  the  parents  toward  their  children.  His  summary 
of  the  subject,  given  in  the  chapter  on  Filial  Piety, 
seems  most  apropos  of  the  action  of  this  play: 

"  Every  son  has  performed  his  filial  duties  to  his 
father,  and  demands  the  same  from  his  own  son. 
That  is  what  children  are  for.  Upon  this  point  the 
popular  mind  is  explicit.  '  Trees  are  raised  for 
shade,  children  are  reared  for  old  age.'  Neither 
parents  nor  children  are  under  any  illusions  upon 
this  subject.  '  If  you  have  no  children  to  foul  the 
bed,  you  will  have  no  one  to  burn  paper  at  the  grave.' 
Each  generation  pays  the  debt  which  is  exacted  of 
it  by  the  generation  which  preceded  it,  and  in  turn 
requires  from  the  generation  which  comes  after  full 
payment  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  Thus  is  filial 
piety  perpetuated  from  generation  to  generation,  and 
from  age  to  age." 

Of  course,  this  is  as  the  matter  appears  to  the 
Occidental  from  the  outside.  But  for  the  Chinese, 
who  has  grown  up  in  a  deep  veneration  of  Con- 
fucius, filial  piety  is  the  most  laudable  institution  in 
existence.  Confucius  laid  it  down  as  a  principle 
that  in  the  relations  of  ruler  and  subject,  husband 
and  wife,  father  and  son,  elder  brother  and  younger 
brother,  there  must  be  rule  on  one  side  and  sub- 
mission on  the  other.  Moreover,  the  "  Book  of 
Filial  Piety  "  condemns  sharply  "  selfish  attachment 
to  wife  and  children  " ;  in  other  words,  if  the  claims 
of  father  and  wife  clash,  the  son  must  neglect  his 

[67] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

wife  to  serve  his  father.  These  things  are  among 
the  bases  of  Chinese  society  on  which  it  has  outHved 
the  Egyptian,  Babylonian,  Persian,  Roman  and 
other  civiHzations ;  it  is  small  wonder  therefore  that 
they  seem  good  to  the  Chinese.  The  other  extreme 
perhaps  is  found  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries  where 
a  son,  on  becoming  of  age,  goes  where  he  likes  and 
does  what  he  likes  without  feeling  any  responsibility 
toward  his  parents.  To  quote  Doctor  Smith  once 
more,  "  To  the  Chinese  such  customs  must  appear 
like  the  behaviour  of  a  well-grown  calf  or  colt  to  the 
cow  and  the  mare,  suitable  enough  for  animals,  but 
by  no  means  conformable  to  li  (ethical  standards) 
as  applied  to  human  beings.  An  attentive  consider- 
ation of  the  matter  from  a  Chinese  standpoint  will 
show  that  there  is  abundant  room  in  our  own  social 
practice  for  improvement,  and  that  most  of  us  really 
live  in  glass  houses,  and  would  do  well  not  to  throw 
stones  recklessly."  To  both  the  Westerner  and  the 
Chinese  the  practice  of  the  other  seems  inferior,  and 
neither  can  express  an  impartial  opinion  as  to  which 
is  the  better  system.  But  the  Westerner  who  wishes 
to  understand  the  Chinese  point  of  view  can  gain  an 
insight  into  many  things  from  reading  "  The  Story 
of  a  Lute." 


[68] 


CHAPTER   FOUR 

The  Drama  under  the  Manchus  and  the 
Republic — 1644  to  the  Present  Day 


^^N  1644  the  last  of  the  Ming  emperors  com- 
%  mitted  suicide  when  a  rebel  army  entered 
',  his  capital.  But  the  rebel  did  not  be- 
come the  next  emperor ;  the  throne  went 
ito  a  Manchu  leader  who,  in  character- 
istically Chinese  manner,  had  been  called  in  by 
the  Ming  ruler  to  help  put  down  the  rebellion.  The 
Manchus  soon  established  themselves  as  firm  rulers 
of  the  land  and  forced  all  Chinese  to  adopt  the 
queue.  China  became  under  their  rule  a  strong 
and  united  empire;  in  fact,  many  writers  believe 
that  the  reigns  of  K'ang  Hsi  (1662-1723)  and  of 
Ch'ien  Lung  (i  736-1 795)  were  the  most  glorious 
in  all  Chinese  history.  Both  of  these  rulers  were 
great  warriors  and  administrators,  as  well  as  pa- 
trons of  literature  and  the  arts.  The  drama,  too, 
flourished;  a  recently  published  catalogue  of  Chinese 
dramas  records  eight  hundred  and  fifteen  plays  of 
some  literary  merit  from  the  Ch'ing  Dynasty. 

[69] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Among  these  the  critics  assign  the  first  places  to 
two  historical  tragedies  written  about  the  beginning 
of  the  eighteenth  century:  "The  Blood-Stained 
Fan"  (T'ao  Hua  Shan)  by  Kung  Shang-jen  and 
"The  Palace  of  Eternal  Life"  (Ch'ang  Shan  Tien) 
by  Hung  Sen.  The  former  deals  with  the  last  days 
of  the  Ming  Dynasty.  The  author  presents  the 
struggles  of  the  various  parties  and  the  dissensions 
among  the  generals  in  the  face  of  a  tottering  throne. 
In  the  foreground  of  the  revolutionary  scene  stand 
two  lovers.  The  hero,  a  courageous  young  literary 
man,  is  forced  to  flee  before  his  political  enemies, 
and  the  heroine  is  likewise  threatened.  Since  she 
prefers  death  to  disgrace  she  attempts  suicide.  The 
play  takes  its  name  from  the  fact  that  some  of  her 
blood  stained  the  fan  her  lover  had  presented  to  her. 
An  artist,  coming  across  this  fan,  painted  the  blood- 
stains into  peach  blossoms  so  cleverly  as  to  de- 
ceive every  one.  After  years  of  civil  war,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  dynasty  is  overthrown,  the 
lovers  meet  again.  They  feel  that  love  has  no  place 
in  a  broken  and  disrupted  fatherland ;  patriotism  is 
higher  than  love  —  such  seems  to  be  the  author's 
meaning. 

The  other  play,  "The  Palace  of  Eternal  Life", 
goes  back  to  a  much  earlier  period,  that  of  the  T'ang 
Dynasty.  It  has  for  hero  and  heroine  the  emperor 
Ming  Huang,  traditional  founder  of  the  Chinese 
theater,  and  his  capricious  concubine,  Yang  Kuei-fei. 
The  Palace  of  Eternal  Life  was  the  name  they  had 
[70] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

g^ven  to  the  pleasure  dome  where  the  famous  lovers 
gave  themselves  up  to  idyllic  and  voluptuous  amuse- 
ments/ This  story  is  full  of  romantic  and  dramatic 
elements ;  there  are  said  to  be  more  than  fifty  plays 
that  have  Yang  Kuei-fei  for  heroine.  Versions  by 
ballad  singers  have  been  well  translated  by  George 
Carter  Stent,^  a  Britisher  who  secured  unprinted 
popular  ballads  by  having  street  singers  come  to  his 
house  to  recite  them  while  his  teacher  wrote  them 
down  verbatim.  Since  Yang  Kuei-fei  and  her  lover 
play  such  an  important  part  in  the  Chinese  drama, 
it  might  be  well  to  quote  two  of  the  numerous  bal- 
lads about  her. 

AN   IMPERIAL   LOVER 

Tang  Ming-kuang  loved  Yang  Kuei-fei  — 
Living  for  her,  in  her,  with  her,  — 
Walking  by  her,  hither,  thither  — 
In  the  pleasant  summer  weather. 
Strolling  hand  in  hand  together. 
Side  by  side  with  Yang  Kuei-fei, 
Listening  to  the  play  of  fountains  — 
Climbing  up  the  mimic  mountains  — 
Through  romantic  scenery 
Of  hill  and  lake,  rock,  dell  and  tree. 


'  A  most  readable  biography  in  English  has  just  been  published 
by  the  Commercial  Press,  Shanghai :  "  Yang  Kuei-fei  ",  by  Mrs.  Wu 
Lien-teh.  —  In  the  Mercure  de  France,  beginning  August,  1922,  there 
appeared  a  fascinating  series  of  articles :  "  La  Passion  de  Yang  Kuei- 
fei  ",  by  Soulie,  translations  of  songs  by  blind  Chinese  singers  woven 
into  the  story  of  the  greatest  Chinese  tale  of  love. 

'  "  The  Jade  Chaplet,  A  Collection  of  Songs.  Ballads,  etc.,  from 
the  Chinese."   Triibner  and  Company,  London,  1874. 

[71] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

"  If  I  had  not  Yang  Kuei-fei, 

What  were  all  my  Empire  worth? 
With  her,  earth  is  heaven  to  me,  — 
This  is  paradise  on  earth." 

Mid-day  in  the  lakelet  found  them, 
Lotus  leaves  and  blossoms  round  them ; 
Disporting  gaily  in  the  water, 
(Daily  to  this  place  he  brought  her). 
Now  an  avenue  they  tread. 
Where  the  trees  arch  overhead,  — 
Saving  just  enough  of  space 
To  catch  a  glimpse  of  heaven's  face, 
Showing  its  intensest  blue, 
Peering  down  upon  the  two. 

"  If  I  had  not  Yang  Kuei-fei, 

What  were  all  this  lovely  scene  ? 
With  her,  walking  thus  by  me,  — 
This  is  heaven,  and  she  its  queen." 

On  the  sward  beneath  their  feet, 

Flowers  of  every  hue  were  springing; 
Bright  plumed  birds  with  voices  sweet 

Their  passage  here  and  there  were  winging. 
Sheltered  here  from  mid-day  heat, 

She  taught  to  them  the  art  of  singing.^ 
Now  is  heard  from  every  tree 

Leafy  voices,  softly  uttering 
Whispers,  which  sound  mysteriously  — 

Like  wings  of  angels,  gently  fluttering. 

"  If  I  had  not  Yang  Kuei-fei, 

What  were  all  my  empire  worth  ? 
With  her,  sitting  thus  by  me,  — 
This  is  paradise  on  earth." 


'  The  Chinese  actually  say  that  the  birds  imitated  her  voice  in 
their  notes. 

[72] 


DRAMA    UNDER     THE     MANCHUS 

Streaks  of  light  through  foliage  glancing - 

Mixing,  blending,  interlacing  — 

Now  retreating — now  advancing  — 

Sunbeams  after  shadows  racing. 

Flinging  on  the  sward  a  net-work 

Of  embroidered  golden  fret- work  — 

Quaintly  beautifully  grotesque, 

As  of  flickering  arabesque 

Sculpt'd  from  sunbeams,  light  and  shade, 

Its  ground  the  green  enameled  glade. 

"  If  I  had  not  Yang  Kuei-fei, 

What  were  all  this  lovely  scene  ? 
With  her,  sitting  thus  by  me,  — 

This  is  heaven,  and  she  its  queen." 


THE  DEATH  OF  YANG  KUEI-FEI 

In  silence  unbroken. 

They  sat  side  by  side ; 
Not  a  word  had  been  spoken :  — 

They  both  of  them  tried 
The  dread  that  was  o'er  them 
Of  what  lay  before  them 

In  their  bosoms  to  hide. 

What  is  that?    In  the  distance  a  murmur  is  heard. 
Is 't  the  wail  of  the  night  wind  —  the  surge  of  the  sea? 
As  nearer  it  floats  it  takes  form  in  a  word  — 
And  that  word.  Oh,  God!  is  the  name  Yang  Kuei-fei! 
They  listen,  but  speak  not  —  though  both  know  full 

well 
Those  murmuring  sounds  are  for  one  a  death-knell. 

Nearer,  —  still  nearer 

Those  hoarse  murmurs  came: 


[73] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Now  they  sound  clearer, 

They  shout  out  a  name. 

'T  is  Yang-fei's  name  they  call ! 

Break  her  accursed  thrall ! 
Too  long  we  have  borne  it  — 
This  night,  we  have  sworn  it  — 
Her  life  pays  for  all ! 

Where  is  she,  —  your  minion,  —  frail  Yang  Kuei-fei? 
Drag  her  forth  —  the  vile  traitress !  our  daggers  would 

see 
If  in  her  fair  body  the  blood  flows  more  pure 
Than  in  those  of  your  subjects  who  have  had  to  endure 
Wrongs,  which  her  arts  have  heaped  on  them  for  years  :* 
Whose  bread  has  been  moistened  by  blood,  sweat  and 

tears ! 
Whose  sons  have  been  slaughtered  —  whose  daughters 

defiled ! 
Whose  homes  have  been  pillaged  —  whose  fields  made 

a  wild ! 
'T  is  she  is  the  cause  of  rebellion  and  strife,* 
We  fight  not  your  foes  till  we've  taken  her  life! 


'  One  of  the  many  complaints  against  Yang  Kuei-fei  was  her  fancy 
for  fresh  Li-chihs.  She  was  so  fond  of  these,  that  she  had  them, 
when  in  season,  brought  from  the  South  to  Ch'ang  An  daily,  a  distance 
of  three  thousand  li.  This  apparently  simple  fancy  was  the  cause  of 
immense  suffering,  distress,  and  injustice;  the  messengers  carrying 
the  luxury,  presuming  on  the  protection  of  their  mistress,  committed 
all  manner  of  depredation  and  violence. 

"  Yang  Kuei-fei  had  intrigued  with  a  noble  named  An  Lu-shan, 
who  afterwards  raised  the  standard  of  rebellion,  it  is  said,  with  the 
hope  of  obtaining  possession  of  her.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  Emperor 
assembled  a  large  army,  and  accompanied  by  Yang  Kuei-fei,  went  to 
meet  him.  On  arriving  at  a  place  called  Ma-kuei  in  Sze-chuen,  the 
Emperor's  troops  mutinied,  declaring  that  Yang  Kuei-fei  was  the 
cause  of  the  rebellion,  and  demanding  her  life,  otherwise  they  would 
not  fight.  The  Emperor,  having  no  alternative,  was  forced  to  comply. 
Some  say  he  ordered  her  to  be  strangled,  and  that  this  was  done  by 
the  soldiers;  others  again,  that  she  strangled  herself  —  the  latter  ap- 
pears the  correct  version. 

[74] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

"  Nought  but  the  blood 
Of  Yang  Kuei-fei 
Can  stem  this  flood 
Of  anarchy ! " 

"  Oh !  bitter  destiny ! 
Oh !  dire  necessity ! 
Must  I  pronounce  your  doom? 
Consign  you  to  the  tomb? 

"  Alas !  my  Yang  Kuei-fei, 
I  'm  powerless  to  save ! 
My  life  —  throne  —  empire  —  all  I  'd  give 
Had  I  the  power  to  bid  you  live  — 

To  snatch  you  from  the  grave. 
Yet  they  have  willed  it  thus  —  and  I 
Who  'd  die  to  save  you,  bid  you  die." 

"  See  I  am  calm,  —  it  is  not  death  I  fear. 

It  is  their  savage  mode  of  death  I  dread; 
Say  could  you  bear  to  see  me  lying  here. 

Weltering  in  blood,  by  ruthless  butchers  shed  ? 

"  Fancy  their  bloody  hands  wreathed  in  my  hair  — 
That  silken  hair  you  used  so  much  to  prize; 

Dragged  —  struck  —  faint  —  bleeding !  —  could  you 
bear 
To  see  all  this  before  your  very  eyes  ? 

"Pierced     by    a     hundred     knives,     my     life-blood 
flows 
In  purple  streams  —  could  you  look  on  and  see, 
Unmoved  —  my  murderers  watch  my  dying  throes  — 
With  hungry  eyes  gloat  on  my  agony  ? 

[75] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

"  I  have  been  vile,  but  let  my  penitence 

In  these  last  moments  that  to  me  are  given, 
Make  some  atonement  for  my  great  offence, 
And  Oh !  '  forgive  me  as  you  'd  be  forgiven ! ' 

"  One  last  entreaty  —  let  me  die  alone  — 

Let  no  one  enter  —  none  but  you  stand  by 
To  watch  my  death  ;  —  the  act,  too,  be  my  own; 
Let  not  the  ignoble  rabble  see  me  die. 

"  The  means  are  here ;  I  have  but  to  unloose 
This  silken  girdle  from  my  slender  waist; 
I  knot  it  thus,  and  thus,  and  form  a  noose. 

This  by  my  own  hand  round  my  neck  is  placed. 

"  With  my  own  hands  the  ends  are  tightly  drawn, 
And  I  die  thus  " — scarce  had  the  words  been  said- 
A  few  brief  struggles,  and  Yang-fei  had  gone 
"  With  all  her  inperfections  on  her  head." 

"  Hide  her  from  my  sight ! 

Let  me  not  see 
That  face  so  ghastly  white  — 
Those  eyes  so  wildly  bright 

Glaring  at  me! 

"  They  follow  mine  everywhere, 

Look  where  I  may  — 
On  the  earth  —  in  the  air, 
Still  the  same  glassy  stare. 

Take  them  away! 

"  Place  her  gently  in  the  grave 
E'en  as  she  fell ; 
Here,  where  the  willows  wave. 
Near  this  old  well. 

[76] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

Lightly  cover  her  with  earth  — 

Oh !  Yang  Kuei-fei ! 
What  is  all  my  empire  worth 

Now  I  've  lost  thee ! " 

During  the  Ch'ing  Dynasty  the  native  music  was 
gradually  superseded  by  a  much  cruder,  less  melodi- 
ous product  imported  from  barbarian  lands.  With 
the  old  style  of  music  went  many  of  the  better  plays ; 
in  many  cases  they  were  replaced  by  the  so-called 
"  military  plays  ",  that  is  to  say  acrobatic  exhibitions 
of  stage  fighting  to  the  accompaniment  of  crashing 
orchestral  pandemonium.  Toward  the  end  of  the 
Ch'ing  Dynasty  the  Yuan  drama  had  almost  entirely 
vanished  from  the  Peking  stage.  In  a  later  chapter 
will  be  found  a  fuller  discussion  of  the  newer  types 
of  music. 

But  the  chief  innovation  in  the  drama  under  the 
Manchu  rule  came  through  the  influence  of  popu- 
lar novels.  Episodes  from  the  famous  novels  read 
by  everybody  were  brought  on  the  stage  in  ever- 
increasing  numbers.  The  novel,  like  the  drama,  is  a 
literary  form  despised  by  the  pundits  and  it  too 
began  to  flourish  during  the  Mongol  Dynasty  when 
the  literary  examinations  were  suppressed.  Many 
novels  are  of  unknown  authorship,  because  their 
authors  considered  such  works  as  beneath  their  dig- 
nity. But  for  the  very  reason  that  the  authors  did 
not  employ  the  literary  language  the  great  masses 
of  the  people  were  able  to  enjoy  these  stories.  Let  it 
be  remarked  in  passing  that  the  novel  is  now  coming 

i77^ 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

into  its  own  and  is  receiving  its  just  share  of  atten- 
tion from  scholars,  at  least  from  the  progressive 
ones.  Doctor  Hu  Shih,  of  the  National  University, 
Peking,  has  pointed  out  that  it  is  the  novel  written 
in  the  vernacular  that  has  given  to  spoken  Chinese 
such  unity  as  it  possesses,  and  that  it  is  through 
works  in  the  popular  language  that  a  common  speech 
for  all  China  may  ultimately  be  achieved.  To-day, 
of  course,  natives  of  Peking,  Shanghai,  and  Canton 
speak  languages  differing  as  widely  as  do  those  of 
Berlin,  Amsterdam,  and  London,  or  Rome,  Paris, 
and  Madrid.  Due  to  the  crystallization  of  the  writ- 
ten language,  however,  students  from  the  three 
Chinese  centers  can  read  one  another's  letters,  al- 
though, as  I  have  often  observed  in  laboratories  or 
on  the  playground,  when  they  converse  they  have 
recourse  to  English.  It  is  due  to  their  linguistic  and 
literary  importance  that  Doctor  Hu  Shih  has  edited 
critical  editions  of  about  a  dozen  famous  Chinese 
novels. 

Among  the  novels,  "The  Story  of  the  Three 
Kingdoms"  (San  Kuo  Ch'i)  is  by  far  the  most 
popular.  It  was  written  in  the  Yuan  Dynasty  and 
deals  with  the  period  of  romantic  chivalry,  221-265 
A.D.,  when  three  dynasties  ruled  in  three  separate 
capitals.  In  it  appear  the  cruel  Tsao  Tsao  and  the 
resourceful  Chu  Ko-liang,  together  with  many  an- 
other brave  warrior.  Every  educated  Chinese  has 
read  it,  and  the  illiterate  coolies  have  hired  readers, 
that  they  too  may  learn  of  the  stirring  adventures 
[78] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

of  their  more  or  less  mythical  heroes.  The  enthu- 
siasm for  this  book  is  simply  unbounded,  as  the  fol- 
lowing instance  may  serve  to  illustrate.  Friends  of 
mine  in  Peking,  a  young  architect  and  his  wife, 
were  continually  annoyed  during  hot  August  eve- 
nings by  a  fairly  loud  voice  with  a  monotonous 
rising  and  falling  inflection  that  kept  coming  over 
the  wall  of  the  adjoining  courtyard  from  eight 
o'clock  until  midnight.  It  cast  a  shadow  over  con- 
versation, it  distracted  attention  from  reading,  and 
it  effectually  prevented  peaceful  sleep.  My  friends 
began  by  setting  their  victrola  on  their  side  of  the 
wall  to  playing  "  Over  There ! "  for  an  hour  or  two 
on  end ;  next  they  sent  out  the  house  boy  to  buy  fire- 
crackers and  ordered  him  to  set  off  package  after 
package  under  a  tin  pail ;  and  finally  they  allowed  a 
bottle  of  asafetida  to  trickle  over  the  wall — but  all 
to  no  avail.  They  recovered  neither  their  peace  of 
mind  nor  their  slumber  until  the  shuo-shu-te  had 
read  to  his  coolie  audience  the  last  chapter  of  "  The 
Three  Kingdoms ",  a  novel  as  long  as  the  whole 
Bible. 

An  endless  number  of  plays  are  based  on  this  book 
of  romantic  history,  which  deserves  to  be  called  the 
national  epic  of  the  Chinese.  A  long  list  of  "mili- 
tary plays"  derive  their  plots  from  the  "  Shui  Hu 
Chuan"  (Story  of  the  River  Bank),  a  novel  based 
upon  the  doings  of  a  band  of  brigands  who  terror- 
ized a  number  of  provinces  early  in  the  twelfth 
century.    Some  of  the  swashbucklers  in  this  story 

[79] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

had  Robin  Hood's  habit  of  giving  to  the  poor  what 
they  had  stolen  from  the  rich  and  corrupt  officials. 
From  the  "Liao  Chai"  (translated  by  Mr.  Giles, 
"Strange  Stories  from  a  Chinese  Studio")  come 
many  plays  dealing  with  fairies  and  other  super- 
natural beings.  The  novel  that  might  be  considered 
a  possible  rival  in  popularity  to  the  story  of  "  The 
Three  Kingdoms",  is  "The  Dream  of  the  Red 
Chamber  "  (Hung  Lou  Meng),  the  story  of  the  love 
of  a  young  idler  for  his  two  pretty  cousins,  and  the 
decay  of  an  old  and  wealthy  family.  Poetic  love 
stories  from  this  novel  were  brought  on  the  stage 
only  in  recent  years  by  Mei  Lan-fang,  the  actor  who 
is  responsible  for  many  innovations  in  the  Peking 
theater.  The  play,  "Burying  the  Flowers",  men- 
tioned in  the  chapter  on  Mei  Lan-fang,  is  one  ex- 
ample of  a  dramatization  of  an  episode  from  this 
book. 

In  his  "Geschichte  der  chinesischen  Litteratur" 
the  German  scholar  Wilhelm  Grube,  who  knew  the 
Chinese  character  well,  remarks  in  discussing  the 
novel  that  a  ruse  or  a  sly  calculation  on  the  part  of 
a  warrior  seems  to  appeal  to  the  Chinese  much  more 
than  actual  bravery  on  the  battle  field.  A  number 
of  plays  taken  from  the  story  of  "  The  Three  King- 
doms "  bear  out  this  point  by  reason  of  their  peren- 
nial popularity.  No  play  perhaps  is  oftener  acted 
than  "  The  Ruse  of  the  Empty  City  "  (Kung  Chuan 
Chi).  The  famous  hero  Chu  Ko-liang  is  in  a  city 
stripped  of  all  its  defenders  when  suddenly  a  strong 
[80] 


WARRIOR-ACROBATS 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

enemy  force  arrives.  He  orders  the  gates  to  be 
opened  wide  as  though  peace  were  reigning  through- 
out the  country,  and  seats  himself  on  the  wall  above 
the  gate.  When  the  advance  guard  of  the  enemy 
arrives  it  finds  the  commander,  who  more  than  any 
other  is  known  for  his  resourcefulness  and  his  strat- 
agems, calmly  reading  a  book  in  the  face  of  the 
threatening  attack.  Naturally  enough  the  enemy 
fears  an  ambush  of  some  sort  and  withdraws.  By 
his  calm  Chu  Ko-liang  has  saved  a  city ;  his  bluff  has 
won. 

Another  "peculiar"  (as  Bret  Harte  would  put 
it)  play  from  the  same  source  is  "  Hsii  Mu  Ma 
Tsao"  (Hsii's  Mother  Curses  Tsao  Tsao).  The 
famous  general  Tsao  Tsao  found  that  he  was  being 
defeated  continually  through  the  clever  stratagems 
suggested  to  his  opponent  by  a  certain  Hsii  Su.  He 
therefore  plotted  to  get  this  clever  adviser  into  his 
hands  in  order  that  he  might  profit  by  his  knowledge 
of  strategy.  For  this  purpose  he  kidnaped  Hsu  Su's 
mother  and  sent  a  forged  letter  asking  the  son  to 
come  to  her.  Filial  piety  demanded  that  Hsii  Su 
obey  and  therefore  he  came  into  Tsao  Tsao's  camp 
only  to  be  forced  into  the  service  of  his  enemy. 
When  Hsii  Su's  mother  heard  how  her  son  had  been 
tricked  she  went  to  Tsao  Tsao's  tent,  called  him  a 
man  without  honor,  a  traitor,  and  a  wretched  de- 
ceiver. This  scene,  when  the  tottering  old  lady 
scolds  in  a  shrill  voice,  as  only  a  Chinese  woman  can 
ma,  is  of  course  the  piece  de  resistance  of  the  play. 

[8i] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

When  she  has  spoken  out  her  mind  she  returns  to 
her  own  tent  and  commits  suicide.  Although  Tsao 
Tsao  continued  to  hold  Hsii  Su,  yet  the  latter  never 
offered  a  single  stratagem  to  the  general,  an  out- 
standing piece  of  bravery  according  to  the  Chinese 
view.  The  very  favorite  play  from  this  novel  is 
"  Ch'un  Yin  Hui "  (The  Meeting  of  Many  Heroes). 
When  this  play  is  staged  with  the  parts  of  the  great 
heroes  of  the  novel  filled  by  stars,  the  Chinese 
theater  lovers  feel  that  such  an  ensemble  offers 
about  the  finest  thing  possible.  The  plot  again  turns 
chiefly  upon  a  ruse  by  Chu  Ko-liang.  His  side  is 
facing  tremendous  odds  in  the  huge  fleet  of  wooden 
vessels  under  the  control  of  the  enemy,  and  there- 
fore his  commander  decides  to  attack  them  with 
fiery  arrows.  Chu  Ko-liang  is  commissioned  to  pro- 
cure 100,000  arrows,  and  is  given  for  this  task  five 
days,  which  he  himself  cuts  down  to  three.  Two 
and  a  half  days  he  spends  in  calm  meditation,  doing 
nothing  about  the  arrows.  When  one  of  his  com- 
rades discovers  him  sitting  under  a  tree  he  is  very 
much  alarmed  at  the  waste  of  time  and  suggests 
that  the  only  thing  left  for  his  friend  is  to  commit 
suicide.  But  our  hero  is  undaunted.  He  places  a 
number  of  straw  men  in  the  prows  of  a  few  boats 
and  sails  toward  the  position  of  the  enemy.  Owing 
to  the  dense  fog  the  enemy  commander  is  unable 
to  ascertain  the  size  of  the  attacking  force,  but  he 
orders  his  archers  to  shoot  as  fast  as  they  can.  The 
arrows  strike  the  straw  men  and  pierce  them  with- 
[82] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

out  doing  any  harm.  When  100,000  arrows  have 
been  caught  up  in  his  decoys,  Chu  Ko-liang  orders 
his  boats  to  retreat,  and  thus  is  able  to  deliver  the 
required  number  of  arrows  to  his  commander  on 
time.  The  manner  in  which  the  play  is  staged,  with 
two  or  three  arrows  flitting  across  the  scene,  pro- 
vides, at  least  for  the  Westerner,  a  distinct  anti- 
climax. 

Another  play  in  which  three  stars  play  together 
to  good  effect  is  "The  Three  Strange  Meetings" 
(Ch'i  San  Hui)  or,  as  it  is  popularly  nicknamed, 
"  The  Three  Pulls."  It  is  a  popular  comedy  written 
during  the  time  of  the  Manchu  Dynasty,  and  is  one 
of  the  favorite  plays  of  Mei  Lan-fang.  Through 
his  great  prestige  he  is  able  to  induce  other  stars  to 
play  with  him,  and  when  he  presents  the  role  of  the 
wife  supported  by  Chii  Su-yiin  as  husband  and  Li 
Shou-shan  as  father,  the  Chinese  consider  it  a  per- 
fect performance.  The  play  is  rich  in  glimpses  of 
Chinese  life  and  also  full  of  excellent  opportunities 
for  the  actors  to  show  their  mettle.  The  opening  of 
the  play  is  also  most  unusual,  for,  like  Goethe's 
"  Faust "  and  some  of  our  other  famous  plays,  it  has 
a  prologue  in  heaven.  There  is  as  a  general  thing 
no  curtain  used  in  the  Chinese  theater,  a  rule  to 
which  a  scene  in  heaven  forms  an  exception.  Stage 
hands  bring  on  a  curtain  about  eight  feet  high  and 
twelve  feet  wide,  supported  by  bamboo  poles  and 
painted  with  clouds  and  bats  to  symbolize  the  sky. 
Behind  this  the  stage  is  set  for  the  divine  scene. 

[83] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

When  the  curtain  is  removed  the  spectator  sees  a 
god  seated  on  a  high  throne.  Four  spirits  bearing 
tall  shields  painted  with  the  conventionalized  cloud 
pattern  stand  by  his  side.  The  horns  of  the  orchestra 
are  blown  mightily  and  fireworks  are  set  off  until 
finally  the  god  begins  to  speak  in  a  slow,  impressive 
bass.  Like  a  Homeric  Zeus  he  sends  a  messenger  to 
earth  to  free  a  certain  innocent  man  who  is  languish- 
ing in  prison.  The  messenger  is  ordered  to  find  the 
man's  daughter  and  to  conduct  her  to  the  prison. 
The  divine  herald  departs,  carrying  a  horsehair 
switch,  the  conventional  symbol  by  which  a  spirit 
may  be  recognized  on  the  Chinese  stage. 

The  next  scene  begins  the  first  of  the  four  acts 
on  earth:  i.  The  Weeping  in  Prison;  2.  Writing 
the  Petition;  3.  The  Three  Pulls;  4.  The  Family 
Reunited. 

Li  Kuei-chih  (played  by  Mei  Lan-fang),  newly 
married  to  a  young  magistrate,  visits  the  prison,  in- 
spired by  the  divine  messenger.  There  she  sees  the 
jailer  mistreating  an  old  man,  in  whom,  to  her  sur- 
prise and  grief,  she  recognizes  her  father,  from 
whom  she  had  been  separated  in  childhood  at  the 
time  of  his  unjust  condemnation.  The  jailer  is  will- 
ing to  relent  after  the  daughter,  without  disclosing 
her  identity,  has  paid  him  a  good-sized  bribe.  Li 
Kuei-chih  then  asks  her  husband  to  make  an  eflFort 
to  free  her  father  by  writing  an  appeal  to  a  higher 
court.  The  husband  complies  very  willingly,  but,  in 
order  to  write  the  petition  he  must  know  his  wife's 

[84] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

"  little  name  ",  a  sort  of  family  nickname  of  the  little 
girls,  which,  according  to  Chinese  custom,  is  never 
revealed  to  the  husband.    There  ensues  a  fine  comedy 
scene  in  which  the  wife  at  first  withholds  and  then 
shamefacedly  tells  her  "  little  name ",  to  the  great 
triumph  of  her  husband.    In  presenting  the  petition 
to  the  judge  of  the  higher  court,  the  wife  is  recog- 
nized by  the  judge  as  his  long-lost  sister.    He  rises 
from  his  seat,  and  discarding  the  stiflf  formality  of 
the  courtroom,  pulls  Li  Kuei-chih  out  of  the  room 
in  order  to  reveal  his  identity  to  her  in  the  privacy 
•of  his  home.    The  husband  is  told  of  this  by  the 
servant,  and  rushes  to  the  court  in  a  rage,  because 
he  fears  that  the  judge  has  been  induced  by  his 
wife's  beauty  to  make  her  his  concubine.    The  judge 
is  not  in  the  courtroom,  but  he  sends  out  two  officers 
to  bring  the  husband  also  into  his  home.  The  second 
of  the  three  pulls  comes  when  the  messengers  drag 
the  husband  off-stage  in  a  state  of  comical  terror; 
for,  like  a  true  Oriental,  he  fears  sudden  death, — 
a  fear  that  caused  Abraham  to  lie  to  the  Pharaoh  of 
Egypt  about  his  relationship  to  the  beautiful  Sarah. 
In  the  next  scene  brother,  sister,  and  husband  are 
happily  reunited.    The  father  is  summoned  from 
the  prison  into  the  court.    He  recognizes  his  son,  the 
presiding  judge,  and  gratefully  bows  toward  the 
audience  (that  is,  toward  heaven)  for,  according  to 
Chinese  custom,  a  father  dare  never  bow  toward  his 
son,  no  matter  what  position  the  latter  may  hold. 
Thereupon  the  father  is  also  pulled  off-stage  to  com- 

[85] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

plete  the  happy  family  reunion.  The  jailer,  know- 
ing full  well  what  manner  of  unpleasant  death  may 
be  in  store  for  him,  ends  his  life  by  jumping  down  a 
well. 

This  last-named  action  is  accomplished  by  the 
jailer's  making  a  quick  leap  and  running  off-stage, 
the  conventional  expression  for  suicide  by  drown- 
ing. The  court  scenes,  especially  when  the  play  is 
given  by  Mei  Lan-fang,  abound  in  gorgeous  cos- 
tumes of  richly  embroidered  silk.  The  various  char- 
acters wear  historically  correct  dress,  the  Manchu 
robes  with  wide  sleeves.  So  far  as  my  own  observa- 
tion goes,  I  have  found  that  for  Manchu  or  Ming 
Dynasty  events  the  styles  of  the  respective  periods 
are  followed,  but  that  beyond  this  no  attempt  is 
made  at  providing  historically  correct  costume. 
Characters  in  plays  taking  place  before  the  Ming 
Dynasty  wear  Ming  costume;  it  is  the  style  worn 
before  the  coming  of  the  Manchus  and  therefore 
serves  for  all  ancient  settings. 

The  actor  who  plays  the  part  of  the  husband  in 
this  play  is  Chu  Su-yiin.  He  is  nearly  fifty  years 
old,  but  he  continues  to  play  the  role  of  the  lover 
opposite  Mei  Lan-fang,  because  there  is  no  younger 
man  who  can  do  it  half  so  well.  He  is  really  as  good 
as  any  Occidental  comedian  in  assuming  the  expres- 
sions of  surprise,  anger,  or  terror ;  he  stutters  admi- 
rably whenever  necessary,  and  in  laughing  gets  a 
comical  effect  by  means  of  his  faulty  teeth,  black- 
ened by  opium  smoking.  In  another  play,  "Ngoh 
[86] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

Chia  Chuan  "  (The  Ngoh  Family  Village),  he  plays 
the  part  of  a  young  boy  who  has  prodigious  strength ; 
in  fact,  he,  though  a  mere  child,  protects  his  family's 
home  by  killing  two  generals.  In  one  of  the  first 
scenes  the  parents  forbid  their  abnormally  strong 
offspring  to  handle  dangerous  weapons,  whereupon 
this  actor  in  the  costume  of  a  child  goes  into  tan- 
trums of  weeping  that  convulse  the  audience  by 
their  realistic  imitation  of  the  overgrown  baby.  Li 
Shou-shan,  in  the  role  of  the  father,  is  made  up  as  a 
fine,  dignified  old  Chinese  gentleman.  He  brings 
out  very  poignantly  the  tragic  situation  of  the  help- 
less old  man  unjustly  imprisoned;  though  perhaps 
by  some  of  his  pitiful  wails  he  somewhat  overdoes 
his  part. 

Another  very  popular  domestic  drama  is  "Ta 
Chih  Shang  Wen  "  (Beating  the  Nephew  and  Wor- 
shiping at  the  Grave).  The  Chinese  prodigal  son 
is  Ta  Kuan,  an  orphan  boy  raised  by  his  uncle. 
Wicked  companions  taught  him  gambling  and  other 
ways  of  squandering  money,  and  as  he  needed  funds 
for  these  pursuits  he  insisted  that  his  uncle  give  him 
his  paternal  heritage.  In  a  short  time,  of  course, 
all  his  substance  has  been  wasted  with  riotous  living 
and  Ta  Kuan  is  forced  to  beg  for  his  food.  His 
uncle  at  that  time  is  distributing  alms  among  the 
poor  and  the  nephew  is  not  ashamed  to  appear 
among  the  beggars  at  his  uncle's  door.  Naturally, 
the  uncle's  "loss  of  face"  is  tremendous ;  he  becomes 
extremely  angry  and  chases  Ta   Kuan  off   with 

[87] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

blows.  But  his  aunt,  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart, 
gives  him  some  money  and  urges  him  to  avoid  his 
angered  uncle.  But  in  China  too  there  is  a  destiny 
that  shapes  our  ends:  Ta  Kuan's  money  is  stolen 
from  him,  and  with  no  prospects  whatever  before 
him,  he  suddenly  becomes  pious  and  worships  at  his 
father's  grave.  While  he  is  busy  burning  paper 
money  (i.e.  paper  imitations  of  silver  ingots)  for 
the  spirits  of  his  ancestors  his  uncle  and  aunt  hap- 
pen also  to  visit  the  family  graveyard.  The  moment 
Ta  Kuan  sees  them,  remembering  his  uncle's  blows 
and  curses,  he  runs  away.  His  foster-father  is  very 
much  surprised  that  some  one  should  have  been 
burning  paper  money  at  his  brother's  tomb.  He 
never  would  have  suspected  his  nephew  of  such  an 
action,  but  when  he  finds  that  it  really  was  Ta  Kuan, 
his  heart  is  touched  by  such  a  display  of  filial  piety 
that  he  sends  for  the  nephew,  inviting  him  to  re- 
turn to  his  house,  and  then  persuades  him  to  study 
under  the  direction  of  a  teacher.  There  has  been  a 
real  change  of  heart  in  the  youth,  for  he  applies 
himself  diligently  to  his  task.  And  virtue  is  not 
without  its  reward ;  for  when  Ta  Kuan  takes  the  ex- 
amination he  passes  with  the  very  highest  honors. 

A  play  similar  to  the  previous  one  in  that  it  is 
much  more  moral  than  probable  is  "  Chu  Sha  Chii " 
(A  Cinnabar  Spot).  A  certain  elderly  gentleman 
by  the  name  of  Han  was  very  unhappy  because  he 
had  no  son.  To  remedy  this  condition  he  bought 
himself  a  concubine;  but  when  the  marriage  was 
[88] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

about  to  be  consummated,  the  bride  wept  bitterly. 
Han  asked  the  cause  of  the  tears  at  such  an  inap- 
propriate time,  and  learned  that  his  new  spouse  was 
in  reality  a  married  woman  who  had  allowed  herself 
to  be  sold  to  aid  her  sick  husband.  The  old  man  took 
pity  on  her,  burned  the  marriage  contract,  and  pre- 
sented her  with  more  money  for  her  unfortunate 
husband.  A  noble  and  unusual  action,  to  be  sure, 
which  merited  and  received  an  unusual  reward? 
The  woman  returned  to  her  husband  and  the  latter 
recovered  at  once.  Returned  once  more  to  health, 
he  went  about  his  business  which  carried  him  to 
Sze-chuan  province.  He  brought  with  him  a  present 
for  his  benefactor,  a  young  boy  whom  he  had  bought 
in  a  district  afflicted  by  famine.  Han  was  very 
much  pleased  with  the  bright  boy  and  devoted  him- 
self eagerly  to  his  education.  He  gradually  re- 
marked that  the  boy  resembled  him  a  great  deal  and 
began  to  wonder  if  it  might  not  be  possible  that  it 
was  his  own  son,  who  had  been  carried  off  a  few 
years  before  in  the  course  of  a  rebellion.  One  day  it 
occurred  to  him  to  examine  the  sole  of  the  boy's 
foot,  and  there  he  found  the  very  same  cinnabar 
spot  that  had  always  been  his  own  distinguishing 
mark.  This  proved  conclusively  that  it  was  his  own 
son,  and  both  were  very  happy  over  the  reunion  that 
had  been  brought  about  through  Han's  kindness  to 
a  poor  woman ! 

The  moral  Chinese  stage  sets  forth  not  only  the 
reward  of  virtue,  but  also  the  punishment  of  vice. 

[89] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

There  can  be  seen  on  the  Peking  stage  almost  any 
day  a  warning  to  cruel  husbands  called  "  Pang  Ta 
Pao  Ch'ing  Lang"  (Beating  the  Heartless  Hus- 
band). Mu  Chi  was  a  scholar  holding  the  first  de- 
gree (Hsiu  Tsai,  corresponding  somewhat  to  our 
A.B.),  but  he  was  very  poor  because  his  parents  had 
not  left  him  any  property  whatsoever.  When  a 
famine  struck  the  country  he  was  forced  to  beg  for 
his  bread.  In  his  half-starved  condition  he  was  one 
day  caught  in  a  snowstorm,  in  the  course  of  which 
he  fell  to  the  ground  more  dead  than  alive.  In  this 
condition  the  daughter  of  the  head  of  the  beggar's 
guild  found  him  lying  before  the  door  of  her  home. 
She  took  pity  on  him  and  nursed  him  back  to  health. 
At  first  her  father  was  none  too  pleased  with  his 
daughter's  action;  but  when  the  daughter  repre- 
sented that  the  gods  would  surely  reward  her  good 
deed,  he  became  reconciled  to  the  presence  of  the 
young  man  in  the  house.  The  daughter  fell  in  love 
with  her  protege  and  was  very  proud  of  his  rank  as 
a  Hsiu  Tsai.  The  father  also  became  quite  fond  of 
the  young  man  and  gave  him  his  daughter  in  mar- 
riage. Then  it  was  arranged  that  Mu  Chi  was  to  go 
to  Peking  to  take  the  examination,  while  his  wife 
and  father-in-law  were  to  go  along  to  beg  and  thus 
furnish  the  young  man  with  a  livirig  until  such  time 
as  he  should  have  secured  a  profitable  post.  Mu  Chi 
passed  the  examination  and  was  appointed  the  mag- 
istrate of  a  town.  The  moment  he  had  received  his 
appointment  he  became  extremely  disdainful  of  his 
[90] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

new  relatives  and  in  the  course  of  the  journey  by 
boat  to  the  town  where  he  was  to  become  magistrate 
he  pushed  his  wife  overboard  into  the  stream  and 
drove  off  his  father-in-law.  However,  a  certain 
high  official  saved  the  life  of  the  beggar  chief's 
daughter  and  adopted  her  as  his  child.  When  he 
had  learned  from  her  the  story  of  her  husband's  in- 
gratitude he  decided  to  punish  the  wretch  properly. 
He  called  on  him  in  his  magistracy  and  offered  him 
his  daughter  in  marriage.  Mu  Chi,  the  cad,  nat- 
urally was  glad  to  marry  into  the  family  of  such  an 
influential  man,  and  accepted  eagerly.  But  what 
was  his  chagrin  and  fright  when  on  the  evening  of 
his  marriage  he  raised  the  bride's  veil  to  find  under 
it  the  beggar's  daughter !  The  official  then  entered 
the  bridal  chamber  with  a  powerful  stick  and  or- 
dered the  beggar's  daughter  to  give  Mu  Chi  a 
sound  thrashing.  This  she  did  with  a  great  deal  of 
"  heart ",  as  the  Chinese  say,  for  which  no  one  can 
blame  her.  But  Mu  Chi  decided  to  become  a  wiser 
and  a  better  man ;  he  sent  out  men  to  find  his  father- 
in-law,  and  the  three  lived  happy  ever  after. 

But  the  very  crowning  piece  of  righteous  moral 
indignation  in  all  the  Flowery  Kingdom  is  found  in 
a  story  connected  with  Yo  Fei,  deified  as  the  god 
of  war  and  worshiped  as  a  special  patron  of  the 
theater.  In  his  lifetime  Yo  Fei  was  a  faithful  gen- 
eral of  the  Sung  emperors,  a  great  fighter  against 
the  Mongols.  In  fact,  he  had  almost  succeeded  in 
capturing  the  Mongol  emperor  with  his  entire  army 

[91] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

when  the  enemy  bribed  some  high  Chinese  officials, 
chief  among  them  Ch'in  Kuei,  to  do  away  with  their 
great  patriotic  leader.  Yo  Fei  was  summoned  be- 
fore a  court  for  trial,  but  was  cleared  of  all  charges. 
Then  he  was  tried  again  before  Ch'in  Kuei  and  two 
other  judges,  this  time  being  condemned  to  death 
by  strangling.  Before  the  sentence  was  carried 
out,  his  cruel  executioners  tore  the  skin  off  his 
back  where  his  mother  had  tattooed  the  famous 
inscription,  "  I  repay  the  state  with  integrity  and 
loyalty." 

At  Hangchow  is  found  the  tomb  of  this  great 
Chinese  patriot.  Before  it,  as  every  tourist  sees  to 
his  surprise,  are  four  statues  in  a  kneeling  position 
and  bound  with  chains,  while  an  inscription  invites 
the  wanderer  to  urinate  on  them.^  These  villains, 
who  are  literally  in  very  bad  odor,  are  Ch'in  Kuei, 
his  wife,  and  the  two  other  judges  who  condemned 
Yo  Fei  to  death.  This  drastic,  posthumous  punish- 
ment seems  to  have  had  very  little  effect  in  further- 
ing patriotism  in  China,  for  in  recent  decades  neither 
the  Russians  nor  the  Japanese  seem  ever  to  have  had 
any  trouble  in  finding  Chinese  statesmen  willing  to 
accept  bribes  for  the  betrayal  of  their  country.  The 
story  is  also  told  that  in  1678,  fully  500  years  after 
Yo  Fei's  death,  this  play  was  performed  in  a  certain 
town,  when  suddenly  an  excited  spectator  rushed  on 
the  stage  and  stabbed  to  death  the  unfortunate  actor 


'  For  similar  practices  among  the  Romans,  see  Sumner,  "  Folk- 
ways ",  page  445. 

[92] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

who  was  playing  the  part  of  Ch'in  Kuei,  the  traitor. 
In  the  course  of  the  trial  this  fervent  patriot  told 
that  in  all  his  books  he  had  carefully  cut  out  the 
name  of  Ch'in  Kuei  wherever  it  occurred.  The  man 
was  not  put  to  death,  as  would  have  been  the  case 
had  he  been  a  Britisher,  nor  was  he  celebrated  as  a 
hero,  as  would  have  been  the  case  had  he  been  a 
Frenchman,  but  in  characteristic  Chinese  manner 
he  was  dismissed  as  an  idiot. 

Though  as  a  general  thing  there  is  very  little 
courtship  on  the  part  of  young  people  in  China,  yet 
there  are  on  the  stage  quite  a  number  of  romantic 
love  stories.  In  the  chapter  on  Mei  Lan-fang  I  have 
mentioned  some  taken  from  the  novel,  "  Dream  of 
the  Red  Chamber."  The  same  actor  frequently  pre- 
sents "  Yii  Chan  Chih"  (A  Precious  Hairpin),  the 
plot  of  which  might  be  an  Occidental  love  story.  In 
a  certain  convent  the  abbess  had  living  with  her  the 
daughter  of  her  deceased  brother,  a  very  attractive 
young  girl  by  the  name  of  Ch'en  Miao.  In  the 
vicinity  there  lived  also  the  abbess'  nephew,  with 
whom,  because  of  his  personal  charm  and  great 
learning,  the  young  lady  fell  in  love.  One  day  the 
nephew  became  ill  and  Ch'en  Miao  asked  permission 
to  assist  in  taking  care  of  the  patient.  Under  the 
tender  care  of  such  an  attractive  nurse  the  young 
man  recovered  speedily,  but  he  too  had  lost  his  heart. 
He  found  means  to  visit  Ch'en  Miao  in  her  room  one 
day  as  she  was  reading  poetry,  whereupon,  like 
Paolo  and  Francesca,  that  day  they  read  no  more. 

[93] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

In  the  village  there  lived  an  elderly  magistrate  who 
wished  to  marry  Ch'en  Miao,  but  when  the  generous 
judge  learned  that  she  loved  a  younger  rival,  he  did 
not  show  any  signs  of  jealousy ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
went  to  the  abbess  to  urge  her  to  join  in  marriage 
the  young  lovers. 

Peking  theaters  have  very  few  properties,  as  has 
been  stated,  but  behind  practically  every  stage  one 
finds  a  pair  of  plaster-of-Paris  lions  in  imitation  of 
the  marble  lions  that  guard  the  gateways  of  Chinese 
palaces  and  temples.  They  are  used  in  a  very  popu- 
lar play  called  "Chu  T'eng  Kuan  Hua"  (Trial  of 
Strength  and  Viewing  the  Ancestral  Portraits). 
The  play  seems  to  be  a  modern  imitation  of  the 
Yuan  Dynasty  drama  "The  Orphan  of  the  Chao 
Family."  A  wicked  minister  persuades  the  emperor 
that  an  entire  family,  one  of  whose  members  he 
hates,  must  be  exterminated  root  and  branch.  A 
friend  decides  to  save  the  family  name  by  substitut- 
ing just  before  the  execution  his  own  young  son  for 
a  child  of  the  condemned  family.  His  wife  abso- 
lutely refuses  to  enter  upon  his  plan,  but  when  he 
kneels  before  her  she  is  compelled  to  yield  to  his 
wishes  to  sacrifice  her  child;  this  is  typical  of  the 
Chinese,  inasmuch  as  they  seem  to  think  that  when 
some  one  humbles  himself  unduly  he  must  gain  his 
end  and  other  people  must  grant  him  whatever  he 
asks.  The  man  and  his  wife  then  bring  up  the 
orphan  as  their  own  son.  The  child  they  sacrificed 
was  chopped  into  three  pieces  by  the  wicked  minister 
[94] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

himself,  because  he  feared  that  it  might  some  day 
revenge  on  him  the  slaughter  of  his  relatives. 

The  play  as  given  in  Peking  theaters  opens  at  the 
time  when  the  orphan  has  attained  the  age  of  fifteen. 
He  and  his  servant  are  playing  in  the  courtyard  of 
his  foster-father's  house.  The  boy  proposes  that 
they  make  a  test  of  their  strength  by  moving  the 
stone  lions  standing  at  the  door  of  the  house.  The 
servant  tries  in  vain  to  move  them,  while  the  boy, 
a  prodigy  of  strength,  picks  up  the  massive  stones 
and  moves  them  with  ease.  Soon  afterward  the 
master  of  the  house  returns  and  asks  angrily  who  is 
responsible  for  displacing  the  stone  lions.  The  good- 
natured  servant,  who  has  the  role  of  the  clown  in 
this  play,  says  that  he  did  it.  His  master  then  orders 
him  to  return  them  to  their  proper  place,  and  thus  in 
a  comedy  scene  he  is  soon  proved  a  liar.  Then  the 
adopted  son  is  called;  like  George  Washington  he 
acknowledges  what  he  has  done,  and  returns  the 
lions  to  their  proper  places  without  the  slightest 
trouble.  His  foster-father  now  perceives  that  al- 
though but  fifteen  years  of  age,  the  boy  is  strong 
enough  to  avenge  the  cruel  injustice  done  his  family. 
Therefore  he  conducts  him  into  the  ancestral  temple 
where  he  shows  him  the  portraits  of  his  ancestors 
down  to  the  ones  put  to  death  by  the  wicked  min- 
ister. No  sooner  has  the  orphan  boy  heard  the  story 
than  he  puts  on  his  armor  and  sets  out  on  his  mis- 
sion of  revenge  on  the  enemy  of  his  family.  In- 
cidentally there  is  often  a  bit  of  comedy  of  a  simple 

[95] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

kind  thrown  in  by  the  stage  hands  when  they  remove 
the  stone  hons,  which  they  pretend  to  find  very 
heavy. 

On  one  occasion  when  I  saw  this  play  I  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  the  audience  break  out  into  peals  of 
laughter  at  the  point  when  the  boy  set  out  on  his 
errand  of  revenge.  I  inquired  the  cause  of  this 
from  a  Chinese  friend.  Amid  sobs  of  mirth  he  told 
me  that  the  orphan  boy  had  left  the  temple  on  horse- 
back !  As  usual,  there  was  no  scenery,  the  stage  was 
bare,  only  a  picture  suspended  from  a  chair  set  on 
a  table  marked  the  locality  as  an  ancestral  temple. 
The  actor  dressed  for  war  had  absent-mindedly 
acted  as  though  he  were  on  the  battle  field  and  had 
made  with  his  leg  the  conventional  sign  for  mount- 
ing a  horse.  I  had  not  noticed  the  gesture  at  all,  as 
it  was  a  rather  inconspicuous  one.  The  humor  of 
the  episode  is  of  about  the  same  variety  as  that 
engendered  years  ago  in  the  Philadelphia  Little 
Theater  when,  in  the  course  of  the  action,  a  cat 
wandered  on  the  stage  and  in  her  haste  to  remove 
him  an  actress  thrust  him  into  the  glowing  stage 
fireplace  —  in  reality,  of  course,  oflF-stage  into  the 
wings. 

In  this  imitation  of  a  Yuan  drama,  in  fact  of  the 
drama  that  several  Western  writers  have  called  the 
nearest  approach  to  true  tragedy  among  all  Chinese 
plays,  practically  all  that  is  presented  to  modern 
audiences  is  the  farcical  element.  Of  farces  the 
Chinese  stage  possesses  many,  some  good  and  some 
[96] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

less  SO.  A  certain  Liu  Yen-ming,  in  a  farce  by  that 
name,  lends  money  to  a  magistrate  for  a  journey  to 
the  capital.  The  loan  is  arranged,  like  most  things 
in  China,  through  a  third  party  —  in  this  case  an 
abbess  of  a  convent.  When  a  year  has  elapsed  and 
the  magistrate  has  not  returned,  Liu  demands  his 
money,  or,  in  case  the  abbess  cannot  repay  him,  the 
hand  of  Yu  Ying,  the  magistrate's  pretty  daughter. 
He  brings  such  pressure  to  bear  by  means  of  threats 
that  the  abbess  finally  agrees  to  arrange  a  rendez- 
vous at  midnight  in  the  Convent  of  Great  Purity. 
Yu  Ying  naturally  enough  refuses  to  marry  a  man 
just  because  her  father  owes  him  money,  but  when 
the  abbess  pictures  the  old  miser  as  a  dashing  youth 
of  twenty-three  she  gradually  changes  her  tone  and 
at  last  gives  her  consent.  At  midnight,  therefore, 
Liu  Yen-ming  stealthily  approaches  the  convent, 
but  unfortunately  he  meets  with  a  patrol  of  police 
who  arrest  the  nocturnal  prowler  as  he  is  unable  to 
account  for  his  presence  near  the  convent  at  such 
an  unseemly  hour.  Instead  of  in  the  arms  of  his 
beloved  the  money-lender  spends  the  night  in  jail. 
But  much  more  disagreeable  for  him  is  another  de- 
velopment of  the  story.  A  young  scholar  on  his 
way  to  the  capital  is  on  the  same  road  when  he 
observes  that  the  police  have  arrested  Liu  Yen- 
ming.  He  decides  that  the  police  must  be  very  strict 
in  these  parts  and  so  demands  hospitality  at  the  very 
next  house,  which  is  of  course  the  convent.  The 
door  is  opened  by  a  novice  who  has  been  told  by  the 

[97] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

abbess  what  to  do;  the  young  scholar  is  asked  to 
enter  and  to  await  the  young  lady.  The  youth, 
though  somewhat  surprised,  is  wise  enough  to  hold 
his  tongue  and  to  follow  instructions.  Soon  Yu 
Ying  enters  and  finds  that  the  young  man  possesses 
all  the  charms  the  abbess  had  falsely  attributed  to 
her  father's  creditor.  Love  at  first  sight,  then  fol- 
low mutual  explanations,  and  before  morning  an 
engagement  sealed  by  pledges. 

A  rather  good  scene  follows  when  on  the  next  day 
the  abbess  calls  on  the  miser  to  felicitate  him  on  the 
pleasant  night  he  has  spent!  There  are  delightful 
misunderstandings,  but  at  the  end  of  the  scene  Liu 
Yen-ming  is  in  a  towering  rage,  and  determined  to 
have  revenge.  He  forces  the  daughter  of  his  debtor 
to  become  a  maid  in  his  tavern,  where  she  must  per- 
form the  most  menial  tasks.  In  the  end,  of  course, 
the  young  scholar  returns  from  the  capital  as  a 
magistrate ;  he  enters  the  very  inn  where  his  beloved 
is  serving  the  guests,  recognizes  and  rescues  her, 
giving  the  miser  the  punishment  he  so  richly  de- 
serves. 

One  evening  when  I  had  gone  to  see  Mei  Lan- 
fang  at  the  Chen  Kwang  Theater,  there  was  per- 
formed as  the  last  play  among  the  curtain  raisers 
another  farce,  "San  Yao  Hui"  (Shaking  Dice). 
This  farce  is  much  less  presentable  in  every  way, 
but  is,  I  believe,  more  typical  of  the  present-day 
drama,  because  of  its  episodic  nature  and  lack  of 
real  plot.  On  the  eve  of  the  husband's  return  the 
[98] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

wife  and  the  concubine  are  quarreling  as  to  which  is 
to  share  his  first  night  at  home.  The  dispute  waxes 
hot  and  violent ;  herewith  follows  a  prize  specimen 
of  the  dialogue : 

Wife :    He  has  no  right  to  have  a  concubine. 
Concubine:    He  would  not  have  one,  if  you  were  able 

to  bear  him  a  son. 
Wife:    Don't  say  that,   for  before  I  was  married  I 

had  several  sons. 

Two  neighbors,  the  clowns  in  the  piece,  enter  and 
after  much  discussion  suggest  that  the  women  settle 
the  disagreement  by  shaking  dice.  Three  dice  are 
used,  and  the  wife  throws  a  score  of  seventeen.  The 
concubine  then  prostrates  herself  before  the  house 
god  and  when  her  dice  are  counted  it  is  found  that 
she  has  eighteen  points.    She  is  victorious! 

Probably  about  as  much  as  one  fourth  of  the 
drama  played  in  China  at  the  present  time  deals 
with  religious  or  mythological  subjects.  Kuan-yin, 
the  goddess  of  mercy,  the  Buddhist  madonna,  very 
frequently  figures  in  these  plays,  releasing  unfor- 
tunates from  punishments  and  otherwise  doing 
deeds  of  kindness.  A  direct  contrast  to  her  is  found 
in  the  cruel  judge  of  the  lower  world.  In  the  Field 
Museum,  Chicago,  there  are  exhibits  portraying  a 
number  of  Chinese  religious  plays  and  the  curator, 
Doctor  Berthold  Laufer,  has  written  an  excellent 
guidebook  dealing  with  these  theatrical  representa- 
tions having  for  their  aim  the  inculcation  of  better 
morals  through  the  fear  of  punishments  in  the  here- 

[99] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

after.  I  cannot  resist  quoting  from  Doctor  Laufer 
on  the  typically  Chinese  attitude  toward  this  form 
of  religious  drama: 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  Chinese 
have  ever  in  reality  practiced  the  tortures  demonstrated 
in  the  ten  courts  of  Purgatory.  This  lore  is  not  their  own, 
they  adopted  it  from  India.  It  is  the  visual  illustration 
of  what  is  described  in  the  sacred  books  of  the  Buddhists. 
On  the  stage,  moreover,  everything  is  mitigated  and  per- 
meated by  a  willful,  grotesque  humor  which  makes  it 
difficult  for  the  spectator  to  take  these  punishments  too 
seriously.  Skeptical  and  rationalistic  as  many  of  the 
Chinese  are,  they  will  be  moved  to  smile  at  this  perform- 
ance, or  to  entertain  doubt  as  to  its  reality.  The  baroque 
features  and  semi-comic  gestures  of  the  devils  contrib- 
ute to  the  relief  and  exhilaration  of  the  audience.  The 
visitor  should  bear  in  mind  that  he  is  witnessing  a  fine 
piece  of  scenic  illusion,  which,  while  moralistic  at  its  root 
and  ethical  in  its  tendency,  is  far  from  being  calculated 
to  shock  the  nerves  or  frighten  the  conscience,  but  which, 
on  the  contrary,  will  encourage  and  elevate  by  pointing 
the  way  to  ultimate  salvation.  The  keynote  of  this  drama 
is  not  misery  and  despair,  but  hope  and  the  possibility  of 
self-perfection. 

A  favorite  example  of  the  mythological  drama  is 
the  story  of  "  The  White  and  the  Black  Snake  "  (Po 
She  Chuan),  taken  from  a  novel  of  the  same  name. 
Two  snake  demons  took  on  the  form  of  lovely  vir- 
gins. One  day  they  quarreled  and  the  White  Snake 
said  to  the  black,  "If  you  can  defeat  me  in  a  fight 
I  'II  serve  you,  but  if  you  are  beaten  you  shall  be  my 
slave."  The  White  Snake  won  and  according  to 
[loo] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

the  agreement  the  other  became  her  servant.  In  a 
former  incarnation  a  certain  young  man  had  saved 
the  Hfe  of  the  White  Snake  and  she  decided  to  re- 
ward him  by  becoming  his  beautiful  and  loving 
wife.  Their  marriage  was  indeed  a  very  happy  one 
for  a  time.  It  is  a  Chinese  custom  on  the  fifth  day 
of  the  fifth  month  to  drink  a  cup  of  wine  containing 
a  certain  blossom  which  acts  as  a  charm  against 
venomous  animals.  Hsii  Hsuan,  the  husband,  fol- 
lowed this  custom  and  gave  some  also  to  his  unsus- 
pecting wife.  The  White  Snake  felt  uncomfortable 
after  this  draught  and  retired  early.  Hardly  had 
she  gone  to  sleep  when  she  lost  her  human  form  and 
was  changed  into  a  snake.  When  her  husband  later 
on  parted  the  curtains  of  their  bed,  he  saw  a  huge 
white  snake  lying  there,  raising  her  head  toward 
him  and  spewing  fire.  Hsii  Hsuan  was  so  fright- 
ened that  he  fell  to  the  ground  dead.  Aroused  by 
the  noise,  the  Black  Snake  came  on  the  scene  and 
awoke  her  mistress,  who  on  awakening  once  more 
took  on  human  form.  When  she  realized  what  she 
had  unwittingly  done,  she  burst  into  tears ;  but  she 
soon  recalled  that  on  the  mountain  dominated  by  the 
God  of  Long  Life  there  grew  an  herb  capable  of 
restoring  the  dead  to  life.  She  hurried  to  this  moun- 
tain to  steal  a  bit  of  the  herb.  But  the  God  of  Long 
Life  saw  her  and  in  great  anger  pursued  her.  By 
means  of  enveloping  her  in  the  fumes  of  a  charm 
against  snakes  he  captured  her ;  but  on  learning  for 
what  purpose  she  had  come  to  steal  he  not  only  re- 

[lOl] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

leased  her,  but  presented  her  with  the  herb.  By 
means  of  it  the  dead  man  was  soon  restored  to  Hfe. 

The  two  demons  wished  to  please  Hsii  Hsuan  in 
every  way,  but  in  doing  him  favors  they  harmed  the 
community.  They  robbed  the  state  treasury  to  en- 
rich their  favorite ;  but  the  treasurer  was  beheaded 
in  consequence.  Thereupon  they  opened  a  drug 
store  and  in  order  to  make  the  business  prosper  they 
spread  various  diseases  in  the  village.  But  the 
abbot  of  a  nearby  monastery  discovered  their  tricks. 
He  visited  Hsii  Hsuan  under  the  pretense  of  collect- 
ing alms  and  warned  him  that  he  had  better  come 
for  a  time  to  the  monastery  to  be  freed  from  the 
influence  of  evil  demons  that  were  besetting  him. 
Hsii  Hsuan,  who  remembered  only  too  well  his  ex- 
perience on  the  fifth  day  of  the  fifth  month,  was  glad 
to  go.  He  told  his  wife  that  he  was  going  to  the 
temple  to  worship. 

But  when  her  husband  failed  to  return,  the  White 
Snake  decided  to  go  to  the  monastery  to  seek  him. 
On  the  way  she  confessed  to  her  servant  that  she 
was  soon  going  to  give  birth  to  a  child,  an  event 
which  she  hoped  would  give  great  pleasure  to  Hsii 
Hsuan.  The  two  snakes  in  human  form  rode  in  a 
boat  to  the  monastery  which  was  located  on  an 
island.  The  abbot  met  them  and  sternly  ordered 
them  off  lest  he  destroy  them  utterly  by  means  of 
his  magic  power.  Full  of  anger  the  two  demons 
drew  their  magic  swords  against  the  abbot,  but  the 
latter  tossed  into  the  air  his  cane  with  a  dragon's 

[  102  ] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

head,  which  was  changed  immediately  into  a  Hving 
dragon  and  attacked  the  two  snakes  so  savagely  that 
they  were  forced  to  flee  for  their  lives.  But  by 
means  of  their  magic  they  sent  a  flood  which  threat- 
ened to  destroy  the  island.  The  abbot,  surrounded 
by  all  his  priests,  spread  his  garment  at  the  edge  of 
the  water,  thereby  causing  the  island  to  rise  in  the 
same  degree  as  the  water.  At  this  point  K'uei 
Shing,  god  of  the  literati,  arrived  like  the  deus  ex 
machina  of  a  Euripidean  play.  He  had  been  sent  by 
Wen  Chang,  the  god  of  science  and  literature,  to 
put  an  end  to  the  quarrel  because  the  son  of  Hsii 
Hsuan  and  the  White  Snake  was  destined  to  obtain 
the  highest  degree  in  the  literary  examinations. 
Thus  the  island  was  saved  and  the  snakes  returned 
home  unscathed. 

Hsii  Hsuan,  on  the  abbot's  advice,  also  set  out 
for  home,  and  met  his  wife  with  her  servant  on  a 
bridge.  The  Black  Snake  drew  her  sword  to  avenge 
on  him  the  humiliation  done  her  mistress,  but  the 
White  Snake  protected  him  from  the  fury  of  her 
servant.  Both  were  overcome  by  their  emotions; 
they  wept  in  silence,  unable  to  put  their  feelings  into 
words,  in  this  struggle  between  love  and  fear.  Soon 
afterward  the  son  was  born ;  but  three  days  later  the 
god  Wen  Chang  abducted  the  two  demons  to  his 
magic  pagoda,  while  Hsii  Hsuan  was  left  in  wistful 
happiness  with  his  promising  son,  the  greatest  boon 
in  the  life  of  a  Chinese. 

This  charming  story,   by   the   way,    forms   the 

[103] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

basis  of  Grimm's  tale,  "The  White  and  the  Black 
Snake." 

I  have  never  seen  the  first  part  of  this  play,  but  on 
several  occasions  I  saw  the  visit  of  the  snakes  to  the 
island  monastery  called  "Chin  Shan-tze."  One  of 
these  performances  was  at  the  annual  benefit  for  the 
poor  riksha-runners  of  Peking  organized  by  that 
widely  beloved  American  missionary,  Mrs.  Good- 
rich. As  the  play  was  given  at  the  theater  of  the 
foreign  community,  many  of  the  crudities  and  in- 
congruities of  the  Chinese  stage  were  absent.  The 
orchestra  was  not  sitting  on  the  stage  and  was 
muffled  somewhat.  Back  and  side  drops  with  good 
lighting  effects  served  to  set  off  well  the  colorful 
robes  of  the  shaven-headed  monks  praying  before 
an  immense  image  of  Buddha.  The  fighting  staged 
by  the  demon  warriors  was  an  exhibition  of  grace- 
ful and  acrobatic  movements  that  would  do  credit 
to  a  Russian  ballet.  The  story  with  all  its  pathos 
was  very  well  acted,  so  that  the  whole  formed  a 
memorable  performance  such  as  would,  I  am  sure, 
delight  American  audiences  if  a  theatrical  manager 
were  to  engage  Mei  Lan-fang  with  his  troupe  for  a 
tour. 

In  Chapter  Six  are  mentioned  the  many  seasonal 
plays  of  the  Chinese  theater  which  make  of  this  in- 
stitution a  true  folk  theater.  In  concluding  this 
chapter  I  shall  quote  a  synopsis  of  the  libretto  of 
"Ch'ang-O  Pin  Yueh"  (Ch'ang-O's  Flight  to  the 
Moon).  This  playlet  is  one  of  those  into  which  Mei 
[104] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

Lan-fang  has  woven  his  graceful  dances,  an  innova- 
tion on  his  part  on  the  Chinese  stage.  I  follow  the 
translation  given  on  the  program  at  a  performance 
before  the  American  College  Club  on  November  17, 
1917. 

FOREWORD 

The  youthful  Emperor  Ho  Yi  of  the  Hsia  Dynasty 
(about  2,000  B.C.)  being  of  divine  origin,  as  a  child 
played  with  fairies.  When  he  grew  to  manhood,  he  was 
in  a  dream  led  by  fairies  to  the  palace  of  the  Heavenly 
Queen,  Hsi  Wang  Mu,  who  gave  the  young  Emperor  the 
Elixir  of  Life.  Ch'ang-0,  the  Imperial  Concubine  of  Ho 
Yi,  famed  for  her  grace  and  beauty,  learned  of  this  pre- 
cious gift  and  in  childish  innocence  drank  it,  scarcely  real- 
izing what  she  had  done.  Filled  with  remorse  and  shame, 
upon  being  apprised  of  the  gravity  of  her  offence,  she  flew 
to  the  moon,  where  because  of  her  wonderful  beauty  she 
was  elected  by  the  moon  fairies  as  their  queen.  The  scene 
of  the  play  is  laid  in  the  moon  and  has  to  do  with  the 
preparations  for  and  the  celebration  of  the  Mid-Autumn 
Festival  with  Ch'ang-0,  the  Queen  of  the  Moon,  as  the 
central  figure  and  the  moon  fairies  and  their  invited  guests 
as  participants. 

SYNOPSIS 
First  Act.  —  The  scene  depicts  a  garden  blossoming  in 
celestial  flowers,  with  Ch'ang-O  plucking  the  flowers 
to  be  used  in  making  the  wines  for  the  Mid-Autumn 
Festival  Banquet. 

CHANG— O  opens  with  a  song  in  praise  of  the  beauti- 
ful surroundings  in  which  she  is  about  to  pick  flowers. 
(Speaks)  Since  arriving  in  the  Moon,  I  have  had  a  very 
pleasant  time.  The  hot  summer  is  now  past  and  Mid- 
Autumn  is  come.    In  preparation  for  the  celebration  of 

[105] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

the  Festival,  I  look  forward  with  delight  to  the  making 
of  wine  for  the  entertainment  of  the  fairies  whom  I  am 
inviting  to  my  feast.  (Sings)  Deftly  though  I  roll  up 
my  sleeves  and  lightly  though  I  pluck  the  flowers,  I  can- 
not help  brushing  off  the  bees  and  butterflies.  This  sprig 
is  full  of  fragrance  and  is  weighed  down  with  abundance 
and  splendor.  That  one  is  yet  in  bud.  And  when  I  lift 
up  my  eyes  I  behold  above  me  a  tree  that  reaches  to  the 
clouds.  Lifting  my  hand  I  begin  to  pluck  the  flowers. 
(Speaking)  Ah!  How  beautiful!  I  have  so  soon  filled 
my  basket  with  flowers,  and  now  I  must  carry  them  home 
to  make  my  wine.  (Singing)  How  thickly  do  the  butter- 
flies follow  in  my  trail ! 
Second  Act.  —  The  Moon  Fairies  invite  other  fairies  to 

the  Banquet. 
Third  Act.  —  The  invited  guests  proceed  to  the  Banquet 

Hall. 
Fourth  Act.  —  The  Moon  Palace.  The  Moon  Fairies 
dust  the  Palace  and  make  preparations  for  the  com- 
ing Banquet  and  the  receiving  of  their  guests. 
Fifth  Act.  —  The  Banquet.  Ch'ang-O,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  wine,  soliloquises  on  the  lonesomeness  of 
her  life  amid  her  present  surroundings  and  yearns 
for  the  companionship  of  mortals  and  more  par- 
ticularly of  Ho  Yi. 

CH'ANG— 0(.ym^in^).  Forsaking  the  mortal  world,  I 
have  come  to  the  Moon  to  be  Queen  of  the  Fairies.  My 
time  has  passed  so  pleasantly  and  fast  that  I  have  lost  all 
count  of  time.  I  have  gathered  flowers  and  made  wine, 
and  have  invited  other  fairies  to  join  me  on  this  festive 
occasion.  (Sitting  in  meditation)  Spring  and  autumn 
come  and  go,  as  the  evening  follows  the  morn.  My  time 
has  flown  by  pleasantly  amidst  these  beautiful  surround- 
ings.  Once  a  year  the  moon  is  fullest  on  this  night. 

[io6] 


DRAMA    UNDER    THE     MANCHUS 

Heaven  and  earth  are  happy  in  mutual  enjoyment. 
(Speaking)  This  day  is  the  Mid-Autumn  Festival.  I 
have  directed  the  Palace  to  be  dusted  and  cleaned.  The 
attendants  have  conveyed  the  invitations  to  the  fairies  to 
share  with  me  in  my  happiness.  You,  attendants,  await 
their  arrival.    (The  fairies  arrive  and  sit  doztm  to  feast.) 

FAIRIES.  O  Queen !  behold  the  mortal  world !  See 
how  every  family  on  earth  prepares  its  delicious  food  and 
wine  to  offer  to  thee  as  sacrifice?  (Ch'ang-0  speaking) 
Let  me  look.    (Ch'ang-0  is  moved  and  the  fairies  speak. ) 

FAIRIES.    Why,  Queen,  dost  thou  feel  so  sad? 

CH'ANG— O.  Look  at  the  mortals  and  see  how  they 
celebrate  in  couples.  A  hundred  times  better  are  they  than 
we  who  lead  a  lonesome  life. 

FAIRIES.  Do  not  speak  thus,  O  Queen !  But  partake 
more  of  this  beautiful  wine  and  drown  thy  sorrow. 

CH'ANG-O.    Then  let  us  drink.     (Lifts  her  cup.) 

(Ch'ang-0  is  overcome  with  wine  and  the  fairies  take 
their  leave. ) 

CH'ANG— O.  When  we  were  feasting  I  perceived  how 
mortals  celebrated  this  happy  occasion  in  couples  and  en- 
joyed each  other's  company.  The  thought  of  my  lonely 
life  fills  me  with  sorrow.  (Singing)  I  go  down  by 
marble  steps  and  part  the  crystal  curtains  to  see  how 
mortal  couples  live  and  prepare  fresh  fruits  and  delicious 
wines  to  celebrate  the  Festival.  Here  I  see  a  family  feast- 
ing and  chatting,  there  a  group  walking  hand  in  hand, 
and  others  while  away  their  time  in  their  modest  homes, 
while  I  sit  in  my  Palace,  lonely  and  companionless.  Ah ! 
who  is  there  to  pity  me?  (Speaking)  Deeply  do  I  re- 
gret my  offence  of  stealing  the  Elixir  of  Life.  As  punish- 
ment I  am  now  destined  to  spend  my  nights  in  sorrow. 

(Fairies  reappear  to  escort  Ch'ang-0  to  visit  the  Heav- 
enly Queen,  Hsi  Wang  Mu.) 

(Exeunt  all.) 

[107] 


CHAPTER   FIVE 
Modern   Tendencies 


URiNG  the  last  decades  of  the  Ch'ing 
,  Dynasty,  that  is  to  say  about  forty 
years  ago,  many  of  the  idle  and  rich 
members  of  the  ruling  class,  the  Man- 
chus,  developed  an  interest  in  the  thea- 
ter. The  government  provided  these  men  with  an 
income  but  imposed  no  duties  on  them;  and  while 
a  large  number  filled  the  time  that  hung  heavy  on 
their  hands  by  smoking  opium,  others  imitated  the 
work  of  the  socially  disinherited  actor.  Sometimes 
princes  of  the  royal  family  appeared  on  the  stage  in 
much  the  same  spirit  of  a  search  for  new  sensations 
in  which  others  impersonated  beggars  on  the  streets. 
Naturally  enough,  such  undignified  behavior  was 
highly  disapproved  of  in  government  circles,  and 
therefore  the  idlers  who  spent  most  of  their  time  in 
the  theaters  found  it  more  expedient  to  perform  in 
private  when  their  artistic  natures  felt  the  itch  for 
self-expression.  For  this  purpose  clubs  were  formed 
[io8] 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

called  p'iao  yu,  friends  of  the  theater  or  amateurs. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  many  of  the  palaces  of 
the  princes  of  the  Manchu  Dynasty  in  the  vicinity  of 
Peking  are  provided  with  stages  where  the  theater 
lovers  could  perform  in  private.  Many  wealthy 
merchants  followed  this  fashion  set  by  the  princes, 
and  in  recent  years  also  a  large  number  of  students 
have  devoted  their  leisure  time  to  the  study  of  act- 
ing. To-day  the  number  of  amateurs  in  Peking  is 
enormous;  there  is  such  a  craze  for  acting  that 
every  photographer's  shop  is  provided  with  cos- 
tumes and  other  theatrical  paraphernalia  in  order 
that  the  p'iao  yu  may  have  his  picture  taken  in  the 
role  of  his  favorite  character. 

Among  this  class  of  amateurs  the  tendency  is  to 
be  very  conservative.  When  a  club  is  formed  the 
members  hire  an  old  and  experienced  actor  who 
teaches  them  to  sing  and  to  act  in  the  traditional 
manner.  Once  a  month  performances  are  given  at 
which  the  amateurs  show  what  they  have  learned. 
Frequently,  too,  these  tyros  are  given  opportunities 
to  act  at  weddings,  funerals,  or  other  festivities  held 
in  private  homes  or  in  restaurants.  To  belong  to 
such  a  club  is  within  the  reach  of  even  the  ordinary 
clerks,  for  the  dues  are  about  four  dollars  a  year. 
I  have  known  former  members  of  the  diplomatic 
corps  who  had  spent  many  years  abroad  as  well  as 
ten-dollar-a-month  clerks  among  the  ranks  of  the 
amateurs. 

When  an  amateur  goes  over  to  the  professional 

[109] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Stage  the  Chinese  call  it  " hsia  hai",  going  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  an  expression  that  indicates 
the  low  esteem  in  which  the  professional  actor  is 
held.  However,  in  these  days  of  the  Republic,  when 
the  social  disqualification  of  the  actor  counts  for 
very  little,  and  what  is  more  important,  a  good  actor 
can  command  the  equivalent  of  a  princely  income  of 
the  days  of  the  Empire,  the  actor  is  no  longer  de- 
spised so  thoroughly  as  in  former  days.  Formerly 
an  actor  who  could  read  and  write  was  a  notable 
exception,  while  now  occasionally  a  fairly  well- 
educated  man  goes  on  the  stage. 

I  know,  for  example,  a  youth  of  twenty  who  had 
been  carefully  trained  by  a  devout  American  lady 
in  the  Christian  way  in  which  he  was  to  go.  She 
had  taught  him  stenography  and  typing,  and  Percy, 
as  all  Americans  called  him,  worked  in  an  office  in  a 
modest  but  useful  capacity.  Suddenly  rumor  had  it 
that  he  was  going  to  go  on  the  stage  and,  to  be  sure, 
an  enterprising  manager  had  offered  him  about  forty 
times  the  sum  the  ofiice  was  paying  him.  Many  of 
the  pious  folk  felt  grieved  when  Percy  accepted. 

Percy's  going  on  the  stage  was  perhaps  more  of 
a  surprise  to  some  other  people  than  to  me,  for  I  had 
not  only  seen  him  perform  several  times  with  other 
amateurs  at  weddings,  but  I  had  also  observed  him 
during  office  hours  studying  Mei  Lan-fang's  acting 
in  the  Market  Theater.  One  hot  summer  night  I 
went  to  a  feast  where  Percy  had  told  me  that  he  was 
going  to  play.  In  the  first  courtyard  of  the  host's 
[no] 


AMATEUR  ACTORS  IN  AN  OLD-STYLE  CHINESE  PLAY 

The  face  painting  of  the  actor  on  the  right  shows  him  to  be  a  wicked  man, 
probably  a  robber.     The  other  is  the  hero  of  the  piece,  a  young  warrior 


MODERN     TENDENCIES 

large  residence  a  score  of  guests  were  eating  deli- 
cious Chinese  food  and  drinking  cool  beer,  while  a 
temporary  stage  had  been  erected  in  the  second 
courtyard.  Accompanied  by  loud  music  from  the 
orchestra  an  indifferent  play  was  going  on;  there- 
fore I  set  out  to  find  my  hero  of  the  evening.  I 
found  Percy  seated  at  a  table  back  of  the  stage  busy 
with  his  make-up.  On  his  head  he  was  wearing  a 
wig,  his  eyebrows  were  penciled,  his  cheeks  rouged, 
and  he  was  busy  painting  his  eyeballs. 

"  Good  heavens,  Percy,"  I  said.   "  What  are  you 
doing  to  your  eyes  ?  " 

"  I  have  to  put  Chinese  ink  into  them  to  make  my 
pupils  large  and  black." 

" Doesn't  it  hurt  like  the  very  Satan? " 
"Oh,  yes,  it  hurts  pretty  badly,  but  when  it's 
done  it  looks  lovely." 

How  I  wished  that  Percy's  missionary  sponsors 
might  have  seen  the  show !  As  imitator  of  Mei  Lan- 
fang  he  played  the  role  of  the  maid,  and  he  certainly 
looked  beautiful.  The  maid  in  this  particular  farce 
("  Yi  Tsai  Hua  ",  one  of  the  plays  forbidden  by  the 
police!)  is  sent  by  her  mistress  —  who  is  minded  to 
improve  her  husband's  absence  —  to  induce  a  hand- 
some young  man  to  come  to  the  lady's  boudoir.  But 
the  maid  prefers,  unlike  John  Alden,  to  speak  for 
herself!  So  she  sets  about  destroying  the  young 
man's  virtue,  while  the  efforts  of  the  youth  to  escape 
her  coquettish  wiles  supply  the  comic  element.  It 
was  a  bedroom  farce,  and  I  noticed  with  pride  the 

[III] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

effects    of    Percy's    Christian    training — he   used 
sheets  on  his  bed! 

But  in  recent  years  other  groups  of  amateurs  have 
arisen  with  the  definite  purpose  of  reforming  the 
Chinese  theater.  In  191 5  a  group  of  returned  stu- 
dents from  Japan  who  had  derived  their  inspiration 
from  modern  European  dramas  they  had  seen  in 
Tokyo  founded  a  dramatic  club  in  Shanghai  called 
"The  Spring  Willow  Dramatic  Society."  Their 
aim  was  to  educate  the  taste  of  the  public  both  as 
regards  modern  drama  and  modern  staging.  They 
introduced  non-musical,  spoken  drama  acted  on  a 
stage  with  footlights  and  scenery.  "  La  Dame  aux 
Camelias  "  and  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  formed  part 
of  their  repertoire.  But  they  found  only  a  small  fol- 
lowing composed  of  students  and  people  who  had 
been  abroad,  and  therefore  this  effort  was  discon- 
tinued after  one  year.  Shanghai  is  the  logical  spot 
for  such  modern  theaters  —  there  have  been  quite 
a  number  of  others  since  —  because  Occidental  in- 
fluence is  stronger  in  this  city  than  anywhere  else 
in  China,  and  the  Southerners  on  the  whole  are  less 
conservative  than  the  Northerners. 

One  of  the  idealists  of  the  "  Spring  Willow  So- 
ciety ",  on  finding  that  the  audiences  were  not  yet 
ready  for  drama  in  the  European  style,  began  to  act  in 
the  Chinese  theater  the  role  of  the  ingenue  (Ch'ing-I 
and  Hua-tan).  However,  he  made  the  reform  of 
avoiding  all  plays  that  taught  superstitions  and  of 
turning  to  social  plays  with  a  purpose.  But  this  ex- 
[112] 


MODERN     TENDENCIES 

periment  did  not  succeed  very  well  either,  and  there- 
fore in  1920  he  accepted  the  position  of  director  of 
the  dramatic  club  in  Nantun,  in  the  province  of 
Kiangsi,  endowed  by  Mr.  Chang  Chien,  one  of  the 
wealthiest  business  men  in  China.  This  gentleman 
believes  that  the  theater  is  an  instrument  of  great 
potential  force  in  making  over  society  and  that 
through  the  proper  kind  of  theater  his  fellow  coun- 
trymen can  be  made  honest  and  patriotic.  Nantun 
is  an  industrial  city  and  an  educational  center  with 
ten  middle  schools  and  three  colleges,  and  therefore 
a  favorable  location  for  an  experimental  theater. 
Moreover,  through  Mr.  Chang  Chien's  influence,  a 
course  in  dramatics  has  been  made  a  part  of  the 
curriculum  in  all  the  schools,  in  order  that  every 
student  may  learn  to  act.  The  students,  Mr.  Chang 
Chien  hopes,  will  spread  the  message  of  the  modern 
drama  far  and  wide  by  giving  performances  in  their 
native  towns  and  villages. 

Such  a  tour  of  student  actors,  from  quite  another 
educational  center,  to  be  sure,  was  described  to  me 
by  one  of  my  students,  Mr.  Jung  Tu-shan.  The 
lad  undoubtedly  had  considerable  talent  as  an 
actor  —  I  remember  particularly  a  performance  of 
"  Maitre  Patelin  "  given  at  the  Peking  Union  Med- 
ical College  in  which  he  played  the  leading  part  with 
great  success.  In  the  year  191 7,  thirty-six  students, 
all  from  the  vicinity  of  Wusih,  set  out  to  perform 
plays  in  all  the  villages  in  the  district.  They  carried 
with  them  some  painted  scenery  and  each  student 

[113] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

supplied  his  costumes  and  traveling  expenses.  The 
families  of  different  students  acted  as  hosts  to  the 
whole  company  in  the  various  villages  visited.  Per- 
formances were  given  in  the  afternoon.  In  the 
course  of  the  morning  the  stage  was  gotten  ready  — 
usually  the  stage  at  the  village  temple.  Four  coppers 
admission  fee  was  charged  to  pay  for  the  cost  of 
transporting  the  scenery,  and  the  surplus  was  given 
to  various  charitable  enterprises.  The  audiences 
numbered  from  two  hundred  to  eight  hundred  spec- 
tators. The  plays  were  propaganda  against  opium 
smoking  and  foot  binding  or  —  as  this  was  the  time 
of  the  patriotic  fervor  of  the  students  —  anti- Japa- 
nese agitation.  The  most  popular  play  was  "  The 
Sorrowful  Korean",  in  which  the  maltreatment  of 
Koreans  by  the  Japanese  was  graphically  portrayed, 
together  with  the  warning  that  the  same  thing 
would  happen  to  the  Chinese  if  they  did  not  show 
more  patriotism.  After  the  representation  of  the 
pulling  out  of  finger  nails  or  other  tortures,  the  cry 
of  "boycott  the  Japanese"  would  arise  among  the 
spectators,  and  those  who  had  had  the  forethought 
to  provide  themselves  with  Japanese-made  umbrellas 
would  start  a  bonfire  with  them.  Next,  everybody 
would  swear  never  again  to  buy  Japanese  goods. 
At  times,  too,  improvised  plays  would  be  given  in 
which  the  foibles  or  crimes  of  certain  natives  of  the 
village  would  be  castigated.  Some  professional 
blackmailers  whose  machinations  were  publicly  ex- 
posed became  very  angry  at  the  students,  but  since 

[114] 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

they  were  sons  of  wealthy  and  influential  men  they 
could  not  harm  them.  It  is  quite  a  favorable  testi- 
monial for  the  native  ability  of  the  Chinese  as  actors 
that  such  plays  could  be  gotten  up  at  a  moment's 
notice;  the  method  of  the  students  was  for  one  of 
the  members  to  tell  the  story  in  the  morning,  while 
in  the  afternoon  those  who  had  been  awarded  the 
various  parts  would  act  it  out.  Mr.  Jung  Tu-shan 
is  of  the  opinion  that  for  his  illiterate  countrymen 
such  performances  are  of  vast  educational  value, 
especially  since  nevv^spapers  are  few  and  travel  is 
rather  restricted. 

It  would  lead  too  far  afield  to  enumerate  even  a 
small  number  of  the  professional  companies  and  stu- 
dent clubs  now  presenting  "modern  drama",  i.e. 
drama  in  imitation  of  the  present-day  drama  of  the 
West.  Moreover  most  of  these  undertakings  are 
very  short-lived.  The  professional  companies  are 
generally  found  in  Shanghai  where  many  a  modern 
European  or  American  drama  has  been  presented 
for  better  or  for  worse.  The  best  work  among  the 
student  dramatic  clubs  has  been  done  by  the  one  at 
Nankai  College,  Tientsin.  In  the  Quarterly  of  that 
institution  many  plays  have  been  published  dealing 
with  Chinese  life  in  imitation  of  the  manner  of 
Ibsen,  Tolstoy,  Shaw,  and  other  moderns.  One  play 
from  this  school,  "The  New  Mayor",  was  singled 
out  for  particular  praise  by  a  revolutionary  critic, 
because  it  overthrew  one  of  the  ancient  traditions  of 
the  Chinese  drama  —  the  villain  is  not  punished  at 

[115] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

the  end  of  the  play.   This  play  too  is  quite  realistic 
and  "  peculiarly  "  Chinese. 

Mr.  Tsao,  the  mayor  of  a  village,  together  with 
three  other  unscrupulous  men,  agrees  to  sell  to  a 
European  company  the  land  around  the  village 
temple  on  which  are  situated  the  huts  of  many  poor 
people.  The  agents  of  the  foreign  company  begin 
to  drive  off  the  poor  people  and  cause  untold  suffer- 
ing among  them.  At  this  point  a  nephew  of  the 
mayor  appears  on  the  scene.  He  has  been  studying 
in  a  "modern"  school  in  Shanghai  and  has  ac- 
quired some  conceptions  of  honesty  and  pity.  He 
takes  the  matter  of  the  illegal  sale  to  court  and 
when  he  appears  followed  by  a  mob  of  the  poor  the 
court  annuls  the  contract  of  sale.  There  is  even 
some  talk  of  punishing  the  four  guilty  scoundrels. 
In  this  crisis  the  son  of  the  mayor  rushes  to  one  of 
the  three  other  villains,  named  Hou,  in  order  to  plan 
for  his  father's  safety.  Mr.  Hou  tells  him  that  the 
only  thing  to  do  is  to  bring  him  $4000  for  bribes, 
with  which  he  says  he  can  save  the  situation.  The 
family  of  the  mayor  sell  all  their  property  in  order 
to  raise  this  large  sum,  so  that  only  the  hope  of 
future  extortions  stands  between  them  and  absolute 
poverty.  After  what  has  passed  the  mayor  is  forced 
to  resign,  but  Mr,  Hou  promises  to  do  all  he  can 
to  influence  the  election  to  the  effect  that  the  son 
succeed  his  father  as  mayor  and  the  office  re- 
main in  the  family.  With  this  understanding  the 
mayor's  family  pay  out  the  $4000.  But  when 
[116] 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

the  votes  are  counted  it  is  found  that  the  new  mayor 
is  none  other  than  Mr.  Hou ! 

It  may  be  worth  while  briefly  to  summarize  the 
views  of  two  critics  on  how  to  reform  the  Chinese 
theater.  Professor  Soong  Tsung-faung  of  the  Na- 
tional University,  Peking,  for  many  years  a  student 
in  France,  Germany  and  Switzerland,  in  his  book 
"La  Litterature  Chinoise  Contemporaine "  makes 
suggestions  as  follows:  i.  Music  and  drama  should 
be  separated,  performances  of  operas  and  plays 
should  be  made  as  distinct  genres ;  2.  An  approach 
should  be  made  to  the  Aristotelian  unities;  3.  The 
false  morality  of  the  stage  should  be  replaced  by  a 
realistic  presentation  of  life;  4.  More  attention 
should  be  paid  to  effective  dialogue;  5.  Male  and 
female  roles  should  be  played  by  actors  of  the  two 
sexes  respectively;  6.  The  stage  and  auditorium  of 
the  Chinese  theater  should  be  reformed  to  resemble 
that  of  the  modern  European  theater. 

"  Europeanize  the  theater  "  is,  in  short,  what  Pro- 
fessor Soong  suggests.  Much  the  same  thing,  from 
a  somewhat  different  angle,  is  said  by  Doctor  Hu 
Shih,  professor  of  philosophy  in  the  same  univer- 
sity. He  argues  that  literature  is  constantly  chang- 
ing and  that  such  a  change  is  a  gradual  progress 
from  low  origins  to  classical  perfection.  The  his- 
tory of  Chinese  drama  represents  a  continuous 
struggle  against  formal  restrictions  which  have 
been  gradually  overcome.  But  in  the  course  of  this 
advance  useless  survivals  remained  intact  owing  to 

[117] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

the  conservatism  of  the  Chinese.  As  such  survivals 
he  mentions  ballad  singing,  military  plays  (acro- 
batics), a  conventional  manner  of  walking  on  the 
stage,  facial  painting  in  a  highly  unnatural  manner, 
use  of  falsetto  speech,  and  musical  accompaniment. 
These  ought  to  be  eliminated,  just  as  the  chorus, 
the  mask,  and  the  aside  have  long  gone  out  of  style 
in  the  Western  theater.  Furthermore,  since  prog- 
ress in  literature  generally  comes  about  through 
contact  with  foreign  literatures  (he  quotes  here  the 
influence  of  Ibsen  on  the  English  stage),  China 
ought  to  learn  from  the  Occidental  drama.  Two 
things  especially  China  is  in  need  of :  first,  the  con- 
ception of  tragedy  to  take  the  place  of  the  eternal 
happy  ending;  and  second,  a  conception  of  dramatic 
economy. 

This  same  critic  has  himself  written  a  play,  which 
he  modestly  calls  a  farce.  It  has  been  acted  very 
successfully  by  student  dramatic  societies  in  Peking 
and  other  cities.  Doctor  Hu  Shih  does  not  pride 
himself  particularly  on  this  effort  of  his,  yet,  in  my 
opinion,  it  is  by  far  the  best  "  modern  "  play  written 
by  a  Chinese  under  the  influence  of  the  Western 
drama,  including  some  published  in  American  maga- 
zines. I  shall  reprint  it  here  as  an  index,  show- 
ing the  direction  the  Chinese  drama  of  the  future 
may  take.  The  influence  of  Mei  Lan-fang,  as  Pro- 
fessor Soong  notes  in  his  book,  is  in  the  direction  of 
art  for  art's  sake,  while  the  drama  of  the  students 
and  reformers  is  the  play  with  a  purpose. 
[ii8] 


HU  SHIH 
Doctor  of  Philosophy,  Columbia  University.  Professor  of  Philosophy, 
National  University,  Peking.  Author  of  first  critical  history  of  Chinese  phi- 
losophy, giving  a  new  evaluation  of  the  ancient  sages.  Editor,  poet,  and 
author  of  play  reprinted  in  chapter  five.  His  most  important  work  was  his 
campaign  for  the  introduction  of  the  vernacular  in  place  of  the  dead  language 
of  the  scholars,  a  reform  that  will  be  of  inestimable  consequence  in  democra- 
tizing knowledge  among  China's  four  hundred  million 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

THE   GREATEST   EVENT   IN   LIFE 
A  Farce  in  One  Act  by  Doctor  Hu  Shih 

CHARACTERS  —  Mr.  Tien,  a  gentleman  and  scholar. 

Mrs.  Tien,  his  wife. 

Miss  Tien  Ah-may,  their  daughter. 

Lee  Fuh,  their  old  servant. 

A  fortune-teller  (blind). 

SCENE  —  A  parlor  in  Mr.  Tien's  home.  A  door  on  the 
right  leading  to  the  hall;  a  door  on  the  left  leading  to  the 
dining  room.  Sofa  at  the  back  end.  Armchairs.  A  round 
table  in  the  center  with  flower-vase  and  writing  materials  on 
it.  Two  chairs  beside  the  table.  A  writing  desk  at  the  left 
side  of  the  stage. 

On  the  walls  are  hanging  rolls  of  Chinese  painting  and 
writing,  together  ivith  framed  Dutch  landscapes,  bespeaking 
the  complexity  of  taste  in  a  partially  modernized  Chinese 
family. 

As  the  curtain  slozvly  goes  up,  there  is  heard  the  voice  of 
the  fortune-teller,  who  is  seated  by  the  table,  and  the  final 
notes  of  his  accompanying  string  instrument  are  still  audible. 
Mrs.  Tien  is  seated  on  one  of  the  armchairs. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  I  don't  quite  understand  what  you  say. 
Tell  me,  what  do  you  think  of  this  match. 

FORTUNE-TELLER— I  only  speak  the  truth,  Mrs. 
Tien.    We  all  speak  the  truth.   You  see  — 

MRS.  TIEN  —  But  what  is  the  truth  ? 

FORTUNE-TELLER— I  am  sorry  to  say  that  this 
match  is  undesirable.  It  would  be  a  very  unhappy  marriage 
if  your  daughter  should  marry  this  young  man. 

MRS.  TIEN  — Why  so? 

FORTUNE-TELLER  — Well,  you  see,  I  only  speak  the 
truth.  This  young  man  was  born  in  the  year  of  the  Tiger 
and  your  daughter  was  born  in  the  year  of  the  Rabbit.  In 
the  books  of  fortune-telling,  this  is  called  "  conquering  the 
rabbit  by  the  tiger." 

[119] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

The  wife  would  live  in  constant  fear  of  being  swallowed  up. 
And,  as  the  conquest  is  complete,  the  wife  will  probably  die 
long  before  her  husband.  I  have  examined  the  Month  and  the 
Day  and  the  Hour,  and  found  no  way  to  escape  it.  Of  course 
I  am  only  telling  the  truth :  please  don't  blame  my  frankness. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  Not  at  all.  I  like  truth  spoken  in  frank- 
ness. I  know  what  you  said  is  true.  For  the  Goddess  of 
Mercy  said  the  same  thing  yesterday. 

FORTUNE-TELLER  — So  the  Goddess  of  Mercy  also 
disapproved  of  this  union  ? 

MRS.  TIEN  —  Yes,  she  said  that  this  couple,  if  married, 
will  not  live  long  together. 

FORTUNE-TELLER  — That's  exactly  what  I  said. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  What  the  Goddess  said  must  be  true. 
But  you  see,  this  is  a  very  important  matter ;  it  is  the  great- 
est event  in  my  daughter's  life.  We  parents  cannot  take  too 
much  care  in  selecting  the  best  possible  mates  for  our  chil- 
dren. So,  having  known  the  Goddess's  opinion,  I  sent  for 
you  to  see  if  there  is  any  possible  escape.  You  know  the 
words  of  the  gods  are  always  very  brief :  one  may  not  be 
sure  of  their  exact  meaning. 

FORTUNE-TELLER— Quite  so,  quite  so. 

MRS.  TIEN  — I  am  glad  that  you  have  confirmed  the 
Goddess's  judgment.  {Rises  and  hands  him  some  money) 
Thank  you ;  here  is  your  pay. 

FORTUNE-TELLER—  (Groping  for  the  money)  No, 
no,  that  is  not  necessary.  Thanks,  thanks.  I  am  glad  that 
the  Goddess  has  confirmed  my  truth.  (Rises) 

MRS.  TIEN  —  Lee  Fuh!  (Enter  Lee  Fuh  from  the 
right-hand  door)  Show  him  out.  (The  fortune-teller  goes 
out  led  by  Lee  Fuh ) 

MRS.  TIEN — (Taking  up  the  red  paper  on  which  are 
written  the  dates  of  the  young  couple,  folds  it  and  puts  it 
back  into  a  drawer  of  the  writing  desk)  It's  a  pity!  —  it's 
a  pity  I  — 

(Miss  Ah-may  Tien  enters  by  the  right-hand  door.   She 
is  a  young  woman  of  about  twenty-four,  tastefully  dressed 
and  wearing  a  rather  anxious  look  on  her  face) 
[120] 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

MISS  TIEN  —  Mother,  are  you  consulting  fortune- 
tellers again?  I  met  one  at  the  gate.  Have  you  forgotten 
that  father  had  forbidden  fortune-telling  in  our  house  ? 

MRS.  TIEN  —  Just  once  more,  my  dear. 

MISS  TIEN  —  But  you  have  promised  father  never  to 
call  fortune-tellers  into  our  house. 

MRS.  TIEN  — I  know  that.  But  you  see  I  can't  help 
doing  it  just  once  more.  I  have  sent  for  him  to  see  if  you 
and  Mr.  Qien  — 

MISS  TIEN  — Oh,  Oh!  — 

MRS.  TIEN  —  You  see  this  is  the  greatest  event  in  your 
life,  and  you  are  my  only  child.  I  can't  let  you  marry  a  man 
with  whom  you  can't  live  long. 

MISS  TIEN  — But  we  can! 

MRS.  TIEN — No,  you  can't.   The  fortune-teller  says  so. 

MISS  TIEN  — What  does  he  know  about  us? 

MRS.  TIEN  —  And  the  Goddess  of  Mercy  says  so,  too. 

MISS  TIEN  — So  you  have  asked  the  Goddess  too? 
What  would  father  say  to  this  ? 

MRS.  TIEN  —  I  know  your  father  would  object  to  this, 
as  he  always  objects  to  everything  I  do.  But  how  can  we 
old  folks  decide  a  matter  which  concerns  your  entire  life? 
We  are  liable  to  make  grave  mistakes.  But  the  gods  cannot 
deceive  us.  Moreover,  the  fortune-teller  has  confirmed  what 
the  goddess  said.  (Going  to  the  desk  and  opening  the 
drawer)    Let  me  show  you  what  the  goddess  said. 

MISS  TIEN  — Oh,  no!    I  don't  want  to  see  it! 

MRS.  TIEN —  (Closing  the  door  reluctantly)  My  dear, 
don't  be  too  obstinate.  I  like  your  young  man  whom  you 
have  known  during  your  stay  in  Japan.  He  seems  to  be  a 
fine  fellow.  You  say  you  know  him  well.  But  you  are 
young  and  inexperienced.  Even  we  old  folks  dare  not  trust 
our  own  judgment  in  such  important  matters.  That 's  why 
I  went  to  the  Goddess  of  Mercy  and  sent  for  the  fortune- 
teller. They  both  said  that  this  match  would  be  undesirable. 
It  must  be  true.  The  fortune-teller  said  that  this  is  a  case 
of  conquering  the  rabbit  by  the  tiger,  because  you  were  bom 
in  the  year  of  — 

[121] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

MISS  TIEN  — Please  don't  say  any  more  of  it.  (Sob- 
bing) I  don't  want  to  hear  it.  I  know  father  will  not  agree 
with  you.    I  know  he  will  not. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  I  will  tell  him  what  I  have  done.  He 
must  not  give  away  my  daughter  against  my  wish.  (Ap- 
proaching her  daughter  and  trying  to  dry  her  tears  with  a 
handkerchief)  Now,  don't  cry.  I  '11  leave  you  to  think  it 
over.  Your  father  will  be  back  soon ;  I  go  to  see  if  dinner 
is  ready.  Be  a  good  child  and  cry  no  more.  (Goes  by  the 
door  leading  to  the  dining  room. 

A  pause.  As  Miss  Tien  looks  up,  Lee  Fuh  appears  at 
the  door.   She  beckons  him  to  come  near) 

MISS  TIEN  — Lee  Fuh,  I  need  your  help.  (Lee  Fuh 
bows  amicably)  My  mother  does  not  want  to  let  me  marry 
Mr.  Chen. 

LEE  FUH  —  It 's  a  pity,  a  great  pity.  He  is  such  a  fine 
gentleman.  He  even  bowed  to  me  when  I  met  him  this 
morning  at  the  street  comer. 

MISS  TIEN  —  Yes,  he  saw  you  bring  in  the  fortune- 
teller and  he  was  afraid  of  any  sudden  change.  So  he  tele- 
phoned to  me  at  the  school  and  followed  me  back  in  his 
motor-car.  He  may  still  be  waiting  at  the  street  corner.  Go 
and  tell  him  that  my  mother  has  made  up  her  mind  not  to 
let  us  marry.  Of  course  father  will  help  us.  Tell  Mr.  Chen 
to  move  his  car  to  the  next  street  and  wait  for  further  news. 
Go  quickly.  (Lee  Fuh  bows  to  go)  Comeback.  Tell  him — 
tell  him  —  not  to  be  anxious.  (Lee  Fuh  bows  smilingly  and 
goes  by  the  right-hand  door) 

MISS  TIEN —  (Goes  to  the  desk  and  opens  the  drawer; 
looks  at  its  contents  without  taking  it  out.  Then  looks  at  her 
watch)  Father  ought  to  be  back  now ;  it  is  almost  twelve. 
(Mr.  Tien,  a  man  of  about  fifty,  enters  by  the  right-hand 
door) 

MISS  TIEN — (Quickly  closes  the  drawer  and  rises  to 
meet  him)  Oh,  father,  you  are  back!  Mother  was  — 
(hesitates)  mother  has  something  to  say  to  you,  —  some- 
thing very  important. 

MR.  TIEN  — What's  that?   Tell  me  first  what  it  is. 
[122] 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

MISS  TIEN  — Mother  will  tell  you.  (Runs  to  the 
dining-room  door  and  calls)  Mother,  mother,  father  is 
back. 

MR.  TIEN  —  What's  in  this  now?  (Sits  down  in  the 
armchair.  Mrs.  Tien  enters)  Ah-may  told  me  that  you  have 
something  very  important  to  say  to  me. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  Yes,  something  very  important.  Now 
don't  contradict  me.  (Sitting  down  by  the  table)  It  is 
about  Mr.  Chen's  proposal  to  marry  Ah-may. 

MR.  TIEN  —  Yes,  I  have  been  thinking  about  it  too. 

MRS.  TIEN  — Good,  we  all  ought  to  be  thinking  about 
it.  It  is  the  greatest  event  in  her  life.  I  was  simply  over- 
awed at  the  idea  of  its  importance.  It  is  true  that  Ah-may 
has  known  this  young  man  for  some  years  during  their  stay 
in  Japan.  But  we  don't  know  him.  How  can  we  be  sure 
of  his  character?  He  is  wealthy,  but  many  wealthy  young 
men  are  simply  awful.  He  is  well-educated,  but  I  have 
heard  many  returned  students  abandon  their  wives. 

MR.  TIEN  —  What  are  you  driving  at  ? 

MRS.  TIEN  — My  point  is  this.  We  should  not  trust 
our  own  poor  judgments.  At  least  I  can't,  I  dare  not  trust 
myself  in  this  matter.  So  I  went  yesterday  to  the  Temple  of 
the  Goddess  of  Mercy. 

MR.  TIEN  —  What!  Have  you  forgotten  what  you 
promised  me  ? 

MRS.  TIEN  — I  can't  help  it.  I  did  it  merely  for  the 
sake  of  our  daughter. 

MR.  TIEN  — Pooh,  pooh!    Goon. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  I  went  there  and  asked  for  a  Divine 
Stick.  It  says  that  this  match  is  undesirable.  Let  me  show 
you  the  poem  on  the  Stick.    (Going  to  the  desk) 

MR.  TIEN  — Pooh,  pooh!  I  don't  want  to  see  it.  I'U 
have  nothing  of  this  stuff!  If  you  don't  trust  yourself,  how 
can  you  trust  such  an  important  matter  to  wooden  images 
and  clay  idols? 

MISS  TIEN — (Cheering  up)  I  know  father  doesn't 
believe  in  all  this.  (Going  to  him)  Thank  you,  father. 
We  should  trust  our  own  judgment,  should  we  not  ? 

[123] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

MRS.  TIEN  — But  it  isn't  the  Goddess  alone  that 
says  no. 

MR.  TIEN  — Who  else  then? 

MRS.  TIEN  — I  still  had  my  doubts,  so  I  sent  for  the 
best  fortune-teller  in  this  city. 

MR.  TIEN  —  Ahem!  You  have  broken  another  promise 
to  me. 

MRS.  TIEN  —  I  know  it,  but  you  see  this  is  the  greatest 
event  in  Ah-may's  life,  and  I  want  to  clear  up  every  little 
doubt  in  my  mind. 

MR.  TIEN  —  But,  for  heaven's  sake,  why  did  you  create 
the  doubt  by  going  to  the  Goddess  ?  Why  did  n't  you  come 
to  me? 

MRS.  TIEN  — Don't  be  blasphemous.  Well,  the  for- 
tune-teller said  exactly  the  same  thing  as  the  Goddess  of 
Mercy.    Was  n't  that  wonderful  ? 

MR.  TIEN  —  Oh,  come.  Don't  be  foolish.  You  have  no 
confidence  in  your  own  eyes,  so  you  go  and  put  complete 
confidence  in  those  who  have  no  eyes  at  all ! 

MISS  TIEN  —  I  quite  agree  with  you,  father.  I  knew 
you  would  be  on  our  side. 

MRS.  TIEN — (To  her  daughter)  How  dare  you  talk 
in  that  manner  about  your  own  marriage  ?  "  Our "  side  ? 
Whose  side  is  "our"  side?  For  shame!  You  all  conspire 
against  me!  (Putting  her  face  into  her  handkerchief  and 
sobbing)  Have  I  no  right  to  decide  my  own  daughter's 
greatest  event  in  life? 

MR.  TIEN  —  Just  because  this  is  our  daughter's  greatest 
event  in  life,  we  must  go  about  it  in  a  sane  and  intelligent 
manner.  We  must  not  be  deceived  by  wooden  images  and 
clay  idols,  —  and  blind  fortune-tellers.  Am  I  not  right, 
Ah-may  ? 

MISS  TIEN  —  You  are  quite  right,  father.  I  knew  you 
would  not  believe  in  all  this. 

MR.  TIEN — Now,  let  us  talk  seriously.  (To  Mrs.  Tien) 
Don't  cry.  No  more  childish  superstitions !  (To  Miss  Tien) 
Sit  down  and  we  '11  have  a  serious  talk.  (She  seats  herself 
on  the  sofa.  A  pause) 

[124] 


MODERN    TENDENCIES 

MR.  TIEN  —  Ah-may,  I  don't  want  you  to  marry  Mr. 
Chen. 

MISS  TIEN  —  (Greatly  agitated)  Oh,  father,  you  don't 
mean  it! 

MR.  TIEN  —  Yes,  I  do  mean  it.  This  union  is  impos- 
sible.   I  am  sorry. 

MISS  TIEN  —  Have  you  found  anything  against  him? 

MR.  TIEN  —  No,  I  like  him  very  much.  I  could  not 
possibly  choose  a  better  son-in-law.  So  much  the  more  I 
am  sorry. 

MISS  TIEN  —  (Puczled  and  grieved)  And  you  don't 
believe  in  the  gods  and  fortune-tellers? 

MR.  TIEN  — Oh,  no. 

MRS.  TIEN  AND  MISS  TIEN  — (^/  the  same  time) 
What  is  it  then? 

MR.  TIEN —  (To  Miss  Tien)  My  child,  you  have  been 
abroad  for  so  long  that  you  have  forgotten  our  own  custom 
and  etiquette.  You  have  even  forgotten  the  law  of  our 
ancestors. 

MISS  TIEN  —  What  is  the  law  of  our  ancestors  that 
forbids  our  marriage? 

MR.  TIEN  —  Let  me  show  you.  (Goes  out  by  the 
dining-room  door) 

MRS.  TIEN  — What  could  it  be?  But  I  am  glad  that 
he  is  opposed  to  this  union. 

MISS  TIEN — (Reflecting,  then  suddenly  showing  de- 
termination)   I  know  what  to  do. 

MR.  TIEN — (Enters  with  a  set  of  big  folio  volumes) 
Here  is  our  genealogy.  (Turning  over  the  leaves)  Look 
at  this  long  line  of  our  ancestors  and  see  if  there  has  been 
any  marriage  between  the  Chens    (0t)  and  the  Tiens    (BB). 

MISS  TIEN  —  Why  couldn't  there  be  any  marriage  be- 
tween the  two  families? 

MR.  TIEN  —  Because  it  is  the  custom  of  the  country  to 
forbid  intermarriage  between  persons  bearing  the  same 
family  name. 

MISS  TIEN  —  But  our  family  is  Tien  and  Mr.  Chen's 
family  name  is  Chen :  we  are  not  of  the  same  family  name. 

[125] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

MR.  TIEN  —  Yes,  we  are  of  the  same  family  name. 
About  two  thousand  five  hundred  years  ago,  these  two 
words,  Tien  and  Chen,  were  pronounced  in  the  same  way, 
and  our  family  name  was  sometimes  written  in  the  form  of 
Chen  and  sometimes  in  the  form  of  Tien.  As  the  ages 
passed  by,  these  two  words  came  to  be  pronounced  quite 
differently,  and  the  two  branches  of  our  family  had  all  the 
appearances  of  a  separate  origin.  But  the  philologists 
know  it,  and  our  family  records  show  that  the  two  families 
have  sprung  from  one  and  the  same  stock.  The  law  of  both 
the  Chen  family  and  the  Tien  family  forbids  intermarriage 
between  them. 

MISS  TIEN  —  Does  this  prohibition  apply  to  persons 
whose  relationship  dates  back  two  thousand  five  hundred 
years  ? 

MR.  TIEN  — Unfortunately  it  does. 

MISS  TIEN— Oh,  father,  surely  you  don't  believe  in 
the  reasonableness  of  such  a  custom. 

MR.  TIEN  —  I  don't,  but  society  does  and  the  old  schol- 
ars do.  A  story  was  told  of  a  peasant  woman  of  the  Tien 
family  who  married  a  Mr.  Chen  by  mistake.  But  after  her 
death,  she  was  not  allowed  to  occupy  a  seat  in  the  ancestral 
temple  until  her  name  was  changed  into  Shen  (^)  by  pro- 
longing the  middle  stroke  of  the  word  Tien     (HJI. 

MISS  TIEN  —  I  am  willing  to  prolong  the  middle  stroke 
of  my  family  name,  if  that  is  the  only  objection. 

MR.  TIEN  — You  are  willing,  but  I  am  not.  I  don't 
want  to  be  criticized  by  the  old  scholars  of  our  clan  on  your 
account. 

MISS  TIEN  ~  (Sobbing)  But  we  are  not  of  the  same 
family ! 

MR.  TIEN  —  Our  genealogy  says  we  are,  and  the  old 
scholars  say  we  are.  I  have  consulted  a  number  of  scholars 
on  this  point,  and  they  all  oppose  this  union.  You  see,  in  a 
matter  of  such  importance,  although  one  must  not  be  de- 
ceived by  the  wooden  gods  and  blind  fortune-tellers,  one 
must  respect  the  opinion  of  old  scholars.  And  then,  your 
young  man  is  from  a  very  weathy  family.    I  don't  want 

[126] 


MODERN     TENDENCIES 

people  to  think  that  I  sold  my  daughter  to  a  rich  man  at  the 
cost  of  sacrificing  my  family  name. 

MISS  TIEN—  (In  despair)  Oh,  oh!  Father!  You  have 
destroyed  the  idols  of  superstition,  but  you  bow  to  the  idols 
of  tradition! 

MR.  TIEN  —  You  are  angry  with  me?  Well,  I  don't 
blame  you.   I  understand  your  feelings.    (Lee  Fuh  enters) 

LEE  FUH  —  Dinner  is  ready.  (All  rise  except  Miss 
Tien) 

MR.  TIEN  —  Let  us  talk  it  over  after  dinner.  Come, 
I  am  hungry.     (Goes  into  the  dining  room) 

MRS.  TIEN  —  ( Going  to  her  daughter)  Don't  cry  now. 
We  all  wish  for  your  best.  Compose  yourself  and  come  to 
dinner. 

MISS  TIEN  — I  don't  want  dinner. 

MRS.  TIEN  — Don't  be  obstinate.  We'll  wait  for  you. 
(Goes  into  the  dining  room.  Lee  Fuh  closes  the  door  after 
her) 

MISS  TIEN — (Looks  up  and  sees  Lee  Fuh  standing) 
Is  Mr.  Chen  still  waiting  in  his  car  ? 

LEE  FUH — (In  a  low  voice)  Yes,  here  is  a  note  for 
you.    (Hands  her  a  note) 

MISS  TIEN — (Reads)  "This  concerns  us  alone.  De- 
cide for  yourself."  (Repeating  the  last  sentence)  "Decide 
for  yourself."  Yes.  I  must  decide  for  myself.  I  must ! 
(To  Lee  Fuh)  Tell  father  and  mother  not  to  wait  for  me. 
I  '11  join  them  after  dinner.  (Lee  Fuh  bows  knotvingly  and 
retires.  Miss  Tien  rises  and  puts  on  the  cloak  which  she  had 
taken  off  when  she  first  entered.  Goes  to  the  desk  and  writes 
a  note  which  she  leaves  under  the  flower  vase;  then  she 
hurries  out  by  the  right-hand  door.   A  pause) 

MRS.  TIEN —  (From  within)  Ah-may,  you  must  come 
and  have  dinner  with  us.  (Enters)  Where  are  you? 
Ah-may ! 

MR.  TIEN — (From  within)  Leave  her  alone  for  a 
while :  she  is  angry  with  us.    (Enters)    Where  is  she? 

MRS.  TIEN  —  Where  is  she?  She  has  gone  with  her 
cloak  on. 

[127] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

MR.  TIEN — (Seeing  the  note  under  the  vase,  takes  it 
and  reads)  "  This  is  the  greatest  event  in  my  life.  I  must 
decide  for  myself.  I  am  gone  with  Mr.  Chen  in  his  car. 
Good-by!" 

(Mrs.  Tien  sinks  into  the  armchair.  Mr.  Tien  rushes  to 
the  door  and  then  hesitates.   Curtain.) 


[128] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

External  Aspects  of  the  Chinese 
Theater 


crowded. 


Y  oreigners  in  general  regard  the  Chinese 
theater  as  noisy,  dirty,  and  dull,  and 
therefore  as  a  most  unattractive  spot; 
yet  the  Chinese  must  think  differently 
about  it,  for  the  houses  are  always 
When  still  at  a  great  distance  from  the 
theater  one  can  hear  a  horrible  racket  of  drums, 
cymbals,  and  screeching  string  instruments.  On 
entering  the  building  one  is  struck  by  the  lack  in 
the  Chinese  of  the  sense  of  how  to  make  things  at- 
tractive, for,  just  as  one  enters  a  Chinese  restaurant 
through  a  dirty  kitchen,  so  one  often  enters  a  theater 
through  the  laundry;  four  or  five  men  are  seen  in 
the  "  foyer "  bending  over  steaming  tubs,  washing 
towels,  essentials  in  a  Chinese  theater  the  use  of 
which  the  spectator  is  soon  to  learn.  On  entering 
one  finds  the  house — which,  by  the  way,  is  arranged 
like  a  beer  garden  with  the  spectators  seated  at  little 
tables  —  packed  to  the  last  seat.   But  the  usher  says 

[129] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

nothing  about  S.  R.  O. ;  he  leads  you  somewhere  and 
as  the  other  spectators  seem  to  telescope  you  are 
asked  to  sit  down  either  at  a  table  or  on  a  bench 
which  has  before  it  a  board  to  hold  the  teapot  and 
watermelon  seeds  that  arrive  the  minute  you  have 
taken  your  seat. 

As  you  settle  down  and  look  about,  you  find  your- 
self in  the  usual  kindly,  dirty,  ill-smelling,  smoking, 
talking,  shouting,  eating  crowd  that  one  finds  every- 
where in  China.  Everybody  is  glad  to  give  the  new- 
comer information  or  a  match ;  the  inimitable,  gentle 
Peking  old  men  with  their  pairs  of  walnuts  in  their 
right  hands  which  they  roll  around  to  keep  their 
fingers  supple  for  writing  Chinese  characters,  drink 
tea,  and  smoke  pewter  water  pipes,  smiling  the  care- 
free smile  that  old  age  has  graven  on  their  faces. 
Waiters  are  continually  walking  around,  jostling 
the  spectators  and  shouting  the  merits  of  their  to- 
bacco, candy,  fruit  or  what  not,  and  depositing  tea- 
pots and  steaming  dishes  of  food  wherever  they  are 
wanted.  The  most  spectacular  thing  is  the  manner 
in  which  the  towels  arrive.  One  waiter  throws  them 
to  the  other  in  tightly  wrapped  bundles,  the  pitcher 
standing  near  the  entrance  and  the  catcher  near  the 
stage  or  wherever  people  need  to  wipe  their  hands 
and  faces.  In  hurling  these  bundles  they  show  an 
unfailing  aim  and  in  catching  they  never  miss.  Even 
though  one  of  these  soggy  masses  of  steaming  cloth 
seems  headed  straight  for  your  face,  you  need  not 
dodge,  for  without  fail  a  waiter's  hand  will  always 
[130] 


A  TYPICAL  PEKING  AUDIENCE  WITH  THE 
INEVITABLE  TEAPOTS 

From  Jacovleff,  *'  Lc  Theatre  Chinois" 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

be  Stretched  out  to  catch  it  and  all  that  the  drama 
lover  will  ever  suffer  is  to  have  a  fine  mist  sprinkled 
over  his  face.  Needless  to  say  for  this  he  neither  ex- 
pects nor  receives  any  sympathy  —  not  even  a  pass- 
ing notice.  A  great  many  soldiers  —  about  whom 
the  Chinese  says  the  worst  thing  he  can  think  of, 
that  they  are  "rough"  —  are  admitted  free,  not 
because  the  manager  is  exceedingly  patriotic,  but 
because  he  thinks  that  discretion  is  better  than  hav- 
ing the  door  kicked  in.  In  the  gallery  are  seated  the 
women,  also  eating,  drinking,  smoking  and  chatter- 
ing. How  much  attention  does  this  audience  pay  to 
the  play?  About  as  much  as  we  do  to  the  music  in 
a  restaurant.  They  don't  come  for  a  few  hours' 
excitement,  they  come  to  pass  the  day  that  hangs 
heavy  on  their  hands.  As  one  French  returned  stu- 
dent put  it,  "  In  Europe  one  works  during  the  day 
and  amuses  oneself  at  night;  in  China  one  amuses 
oneself  during  the  day  and  sleeps  at  night." 

The  returned  student  finds  the  Chinese  theater 
very  little  to  his  taste,  but  yet  he  goes  because 
Chinese  social  life  is  so  dull  that  there  is  nothing 
better  to  do.  Comforts  in  our  sense  are  lacking  ab- 
solutely in  these  theaters.  You  sit  on  stools  without 
backs,  your  feet  rest  on  stone  slabs  when  the  ther- 
mometer is  hovering  about  zero  and  the  cold  wind 
is  blowing  down  on  Peking  from  Mongolia;  there 
is  absolutely  no  effort  at  heating  or  ventilation  —  it 
is  Chinese  animal  heat  that  keeps  the  spectators 
comfortable  and  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  enjoy  the 

[131] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

performance.  Yet  these  discomforts  are  felt  only 
by  those  used  to  Western  standards  of  life,  for  nine 
out  of  ten  who  leave  the  theater  after  the  last  villain 
has  been  duly  punished  go  to  houses  that  are  like- 
wise unhealed  and  have  no  light,  no  agreeable  com- 
pany, and  of  course  no  play  to  charm  the  soul  away 
from  reality. 

Peking  is  the  real  center  of  Chinese  drama,  the 
city  that  sets  the  style  for  the  rest  of  the  country 
so  far  as  native  drama  is  concerned.  Innovations  of 
Occidental  nature  generally  have  their  origin  in 
Shanghai  and  are  adopted  later  on  in  Peking;  such 
imitations  of  Western  institutions  are,  for  example, 
the  amusement  arcades  called  in  both  cities  "The 
New  World";  boxes  in  the  theaters  in  which  men 
and  women  sit  together ;  and,  of  course,  motion  pic- 
tures, at  first  imported  from  Europe  and  America, 
but  in  recent  years  manufactured  by  Chinese  firms 
in  China.  But  as  regards  the  native  theater,  Shang- 
hai learns  from  Peking.  The  language  of  the  thea- 
ter, in  general,  is  the  Peking  dialect  spoken  by  actors 
all  over  China.  Famous  actors  from  Peking  regu- 
larly visit  Shanghai.  It  is  only  in  Peking  and  the 
treaty  ports  that  regular  theaters  exist.  The  vast 
majority  of  the  four  hundred  million  also  have  their 
plays,  but  they  are  dependent  for  them  on  travel- 
ing companies,  that  set  up  their  mat-shed  theaters 
wherever  the  citizens  are  willing  to  pay  them  for 
acting.  Thus  the  political  capital  Peking  is  also  the 
leading  city  for  Chinese  drama. 
[132] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

The  eight  hundred  thousand  residents  of  Peking 
have,  according  to  Mr.  Gamble's  recently  published 
social  survey,  twenty-two  regular  theaters  and  eight 
mat-shed  theaters;  that  is,  portable  buildings  cov- 
ered with  matting.  Furthermore,  there  are  some 
nine  restaurants,  provincial  halls,  and  temples  where 
theatrical  performances  are  regularly  given.  It 
is  customary  to  mark  all  big  weddings,  funerals, 
banquets,  charity  events,  and  other  festivities  by 
theatricals  for  which  the  services  of  professionals 
are  engaged  or  in  which  the  many  eager  amateurs 
are  given  opportunities  to  appear  in  public.  Most  of 
the  large  buildings,  —  temples,  guildhalls,  palaces, 
etc.  —  are  equipped  with  the  simple  projecting 
stages,  either  inside  a  large  hall  or  out  of  doors  in 
a  courtyard.  If  you  happen  to  live  near  a  restaurant 
or  a  temple  you  will  be  able  to  speak  feelingly  of  the 
love  of  the  Chinese  for  theatricals! 

The  business  organization  of  the  Chinese  theater 
is  the  same  as  that  which  obtained  in  Elizabethan 
playhouses.  Our  theater  owner-manager  of  to-day 
who  selects  a  play,  determines  the  manner  in  which 
it  is  to  be  staged  and  played,  and  then  engages  actors 
to  do  what  he  pays  them  for  —  this  enemy  of  real 
art  and  bete  noire  of  the  theater  uplifters  can  be 
found  neither  in  Elizabethan  England  nor  in  the 
Chinese  theater.  In  staging  and  acting  the  company 
of  players  has  entire  freedom  in  China,  just  as  it 
had  in  London.  The  theater-owner  (quite  like  the 
"housekeeper"  of  Shakespeare's  day)    engages  a 

[133] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

troupe  to  play  in  his  theater,  but  he  never  dreams 
of  interfering  with  the  actor's  art.  The  Chinese 
call  him  the  "  behind-the-curtain  "  while  the  actors 
are  the  "  before-the-curtain."  The  former  receives 
thirty  per  cent,  of  the  income,  while  seventy  per 
cent,  goes  to  the  manager  of  the  company,  who  then 
pays  the  salaries  of  his  actors.  Some  of  these 
troupes  or  actors'  clubs  are  of  a  rather  democratic 
nature,  because  all  the  actors  belong  to  their  guild. 
The  actors'  guild  has  its  special  temple  just  outside 
the  Hata  Gate,  for  the  actors  are  religious  folk — 
much  as  are  the  members  of  most  guilds  in  China. 

In  this  temple  the  actors  worship  three  deities,  or 
rather  deified  men.  The  first  of  these  is  Kuan  Yu 
(Yo  Fei),  the  god  of  war,  during  his  lifetime  a 
great  fighter  against  the  Chin  Tartars  in  the  course 
of  the  twelfth  century.  There  is  a  well-known  play 
that  sets  forth  the  high  qualities  of  this  hero. 
Though  he  had  been  dismissed  by  the  emperor  as 
the  result  of  a  court  intrigue,  yet  he  refused  to  join 
the  rebels,  no  matter  how  tempting  the  offers  they 
made  him,  but  remained  loyal  to  his  emperor.  His 
mother  was  so  pleased  at  this  that  she  tattooed  on 
his  back :  "  He  repays  the  state  with  loyalty  and  in- 
tegrity." Later  on  the  emperor  reinstated  him  in 
his  high  honors  and  placed  his  mother's  inscription 
on  the  banner  of  the  army.^ 

The  second  deity  is  the  T'ang  Dynasty  emperor 
mentioned  in  the  first  chapter  as  the  traditional 

'  See  also  pages  91  and  92. 
[134] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

founder  of  the  theater,  T'ang  Ming  Huang.  In  his 
"  Pear  Garden  "  school  for  actors  he  is  said  himself 
to  have  acted  the  role  of  the  clown.  It  is  for  this 
reason  that  the  clown  enjoys  special  privileges ;  for 
example,  he  is  the  first  one  to  receive  the  attention 
of  the  make-up  artist,  while  other  actors  must  wait 
until  the  clown  has  had  his  turn ;  and  he  may  sit  on 
any  actor's  box  in  the  greenroom.  It  is  the  clown, 
furthermore,  who  burns  the  incense  before  the  idols 
found  in  every  theater  on  the  rear  wall  just  opposite 
the  stage  and  in  the  dressing  room.  Such  a  little 
religious  ceremony  is  carried  out  before  and  after 
every  performance  to  ward  off  bad  luck.  Another 
feature  of  the  theater  that  impresses  us  as  being 
typically  Chinese  is  found  in  the  boards  placed  at 
the  rear  of  the  stage  and  on  the  two  supporting 
columns  on  which  are  found  inscriptions,  generally 
in  gilt  characters,  setting  forth  the  high  moral  pur- 
pose of  the  stage.  In  comparing  these  mottoes  with 
what  is  being  presented  on  the  stage  one  is  often 
reminded  of  the  saying  of  the  Reverend  Arthur 
Smith,  that  no  one  knows  so  well  as  the  Chinese 
what  is  fitting  and  proper. 

The  third  deity  is  Lin  Ming-ju,  generally  pictured 
as  a  little  boy.  This  noble  youth  was  a  pupil  in  the 
"  Pear  Garden  ",  and  all  who  were  friendly  to  him 
made  rapid  progress  in  their  art.  Hence  they  real- 
ized gradually  that  he  was  a  god.  Like  other  well- 
known  gods  he  afterwards  disappeared  in  a  sudden 
and  miraculous  manner.    Because  the  second  part 

[135] 


f 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

of  this  god's  name  is  the  word  for  dream,  actors 
never  speak  of  their  dreams  in  the  morning. 

But  religion  does  not  mean  to  the  actors  merely 
the  burning  of  incense  or  the  making  of  an  annual 
pilgrimage  to  Miao  Feng  Shan,  two  days'  journey 
from  Peking.  There  is  a  definite  tradition  that  an 
actor  must  show  filial  piety.  Whenever  he  under- 
takes something  out  of  the  ordinary,  such  as  perhaps 
accepting  a  contract  to  act  in  Shanghai,  he  must 
first  ask  his  mother's  permission.  I  asked  repeat- 
edly about  this  custom,  and  learned  not  a  reason  for 
it,  but  simply  the  fact  that  if  an  actor  did  not  ask 
his  mother's  permission  he  would  be  laughed  at. 
Often  it  is  the  mother  who  makes  the  contract  and 
receives  most  of  the  money.  Of  a  certain  rising 
actor  it  is  said  that  his  mother  never  allows  him  to 
act  unless  he  is  to  receive  twenty  dollars  for  each 
performance. 

In  the  fairly  democratic  China  of  the  imperial 
times  the  son  of  the  poorest  man  could  rise  to  the 
position  of  viceroy  of  a  province  by  virtue  of  pass- 
ing a  brilliant  literary  examination  —  and  if  we  are 
to  believe  Chinese  playwrights  he  often  did.  How- 
ever, the  actor,  together  with  the  son  of  the  prosti- 
tute, and  one  or  two  other  despised  classes,  was 
debarred  from  these  examinations.  Of  course,  with 
the  discontinuance  of  the  examinations  in  1907  and 
the  establishment  of  the  republic  in  19 12,  these  dis- 
qualifications dropped  away.  Socially  the  position 
of  the  actor  is  improving  rapidly  nowadays.   For 

[136] 


I 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

example,  in  July,  1922,  the  son  of  a  high  official  of 
Shantung  Province  married  the  actress  Li  Feng- 
yiin.  Far  from  being  ashamed  of  her  profession, 
she  acted  several  plays  on  her  wedding  day  as  part 
of  the  festivities  of  the  occasion.  However,  she 
abandoned  her  professional  career  on  becoming  the 
wife  of  this  wealthy  man.  The  fact  that  she  was 
the  first  wife  was  the  remarkable  thing  to  the 
Chinese  who  spoke  to  me  of  the  event ;  for  that  an 
actress  becomes  the  concubine  of  a  rich  official  is 
almost  an  everyday  occurrence  in  Peking.  Progress 
along  such  lines  is  not  a  unique  or  surprising  thing 
in  Qiina ;  to  mention  but  one  example,  coeducation 
has  come  into  being  since  1919,  almost  overnight,  so 
to  speak,  with  surprisingly  little  opposition.  Ac- 
tresses were  forbidden  on  Chinese  stages  during  the 
days  of  the  Manchu  Dynasty,  but  since  191 2  their 
number  has  increased  rapidly  so  that  they  are  ap- 
pearing now  on  eleven  stages  in  Peking.  Only  in 
the  foreign  concessions  of  such  treaty  ports  as 
Tientsin  and  Shanghai  do  men  and  women  appear 
together  on  the  stage,  however ;  in  Peking,  Chinese 
prudery  still  forbids  this. 

There  is  a  current  notion  that  Chinese  plays  last 
a  week  or  a  lunar  month,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
about  a  dozen  plays,  or  separate  acts  taken  from 
different  plays,  are  given  in  one  performance. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  afternoon's  or  evening's 
entertainment  the  spectator  may  observe  that  some 
long  strips  of  red  paper  covered  with  Chinese  char- 

[137] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

acters  in  black  ink  are  removed  from  the  two  side 
railings  of  the  balcony  and  others  substituted  in 
their  place.  In  this  manner  the  program  of  the  fol- 
lowing day  is  announced.  The  performances  gen- 
erally last  from  noon  to  about  six  and  from  seven 
in  the  evening  until  midnight.  The  best  plays  with 
the  stars  are  reserved  until  the  last,  while  dull,  long 
plays  with  inferior  actors  generally  begin  the  pro- 
gram. These  poor  actors  are  often  retained  merely 
for  charity's  sake;  often,  too,  famous  actors  give 
benefits  for  their  less  fortunate  colleagues.  In 
Shanghai  actors  get  monthly  contracts;  but  in  Pe- 
king the  minor  actors  are  hired  by  the  day,  and  some 
of  them  must  play  in  several  theaters  in  one  after- 
noon in  order  to  eke  out  a  meager  living  at  about 
twenty  coppers  a  day. 

Men  of  this  type,  of  course,  are  hardly  more 
than  "supers."  Regular  actors  on  the  average  earn 
about  one  dollar  a  day,  while  some  of  a  higher 
grade  receive  five  dollars  to  ten  dollars.  To  receive 
twenty-five  dollars  for  a  regular  performance  a 
man  must  be  quite  prominent  in  the  theatrical  world. 
A  few  stars,  like  Mei  Lan-fang  and  Yang  Hsiao-lo, 
receive  one  hundred  dollars  for  each  regular  per- 
formance, and  considerably  more  when  they  act  at 
banquets  or  on  other  special  occasions. 

The  charges  in  the  theaters  depend  on  the  type  of 
theater  and  even  more  on  the  actors.  Theaters 
where  women  or  boys  appear  as  actors  are  lower  in 
price.   There  is  no  ticket  or  money  demanded  as  one 

[138] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

enters  the  theater,  but  the  price  is  collected  by  the 
usher  when  he  seats  the  spectator.  In  the  ordinary 
theater  one  can  sit  at  a  comfortable  table  for  forty 
cents  or  in  a  box  for  a  dollar  and  a  half.  There  are 
two  large  theaters  in  Peking  built  in  Occidental  style 
with  receding  stages,  in  which  the  prices  are  some- 
what higher :  eighty  cents  for  a  first-class  seat  and 
nine  dollars  for  a  box  seating  eight  persons.  When 
a  star  is  playing,  these  prices  are  augmented  some- 
what. The  poorer  classes  can  enjoy  theatrical  per- 
formances for  five  coppers  by  going  to  the  mat- 
shed  theaters.  The  average  seating  capacity  of 
a  Peking  theater  is  about  a  thousand,  and  the  aver- 
age attendance  is  very  near  this  figure,  if  not 
above  it. 

The  course  of  an  actor's  training  is  an  extremely 
hard  one.  For  seven  years  he  is  instructed  in  sing- 
ing and  acrobatics,  and  then  he  begins  to  play  in 
some  of  the  boys'  theaters,  institutions  connected 
with  the  training  schools  for  actors.  During  the 
longest  part  of  his  apprenticeship  he  receives  no 
wages,  he  has  long  hours,  menial  tasks,  and  severe 
taskmasters.  Actresses  are  trained  by  special  private 
teachers  and  their  courses  have  not  yet  become  so 
uniform  as  have  those  for  the  men.  The  police  have 
very  strict  regulations  to  prevent  actresses  from 
becoming  prostitutes,  but  according  to  Mr.  Gamble, 
in  some  theaters  women  from  the  licensed  quarter 
appear,  make  engagements  after  giving  their  acts, 
and  do  some  other  soliciting.    The  connection  be- 

[139] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

tween  the  lower-grade  theaters  and  the  segregated 
district  is  rather  close. 

In  order  to  give  an  idea  of  the  different  kinds  of 
theaters  one  encounters  in  Peking,  I  can  do  no 
better  than  to  describe  several  typical  entertain- 
ments from  my  notes  stretching  over  five  years. 
There  is  in  the  Southern  City,  for  example,  the  Tung 
Lo  Yuan,  a  fine  specimen  of  the  old-style  Chinese 
theater.    No  women  are  allowed  to  visit  this  theater 

—  not  because  of  immoralities,  but  simply  because 
the  place  is  conservative.  The  seats  run  at  right 
angles  to  the  stage,  along  tables,  showing  that  peo- 
ple come  to  hear  the  music  rather  than  to  observe 
the  action  on  the  stage.  I  paid  twenty-four  coppers 
for  my  seat  in  the  balcony;  the  usual  price  in  this 
theater  is  eighteen  coppers,  but  because  Han  Hsi- 
ch'ang  was  going  to  act,  the  price  was  raised  on  that 
particular  day.  After  a  series  of  plays  dealing  with 
murders  and  robberies,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
audience  gloated  over  the  shuddering  and  weeping 
of  the  victims,  there  came  the  chief  play  of  the  day 

—  a  Yuan  Dynasty  drama  revived  in  this  theater. 
The  play  deals  with  a  poor  woodcutter  and  his 

wife.  The  hero  takes  no  interest  in  his  humble  call- 
ing; in  fact,  he  neglects  it  for  the  study  of  literature. 
Since  he  does  not  support  his  wife,  she  deserts  him 
for  a  smith.  Finally  the  husband  goes  to  Peking  for 
the  literary  examination  and  passes  with  honors. 
When  the  wife  learns  that  her  first  husband  is  to 
become  a  mandarin  she  is  filled  with  joy;  she  sits 
[140] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

down  at  a  table,  falls  asleep,  and  has  a  wonderful 
dream.  The  dream  is  portrayed  just  as  it  would  be 
in  our  moving  pictures;  a  conventional  symbol,  a 
short  pause  in  the  action  and  the  tapping  of  the 
drum,  indicates  to  the  audience  that  there  is  going 
to  be  a  dream,  and  then  the  dream  action  continues 
in  the  same  way  in  which  the  rest  of  the  play  had 
gone  on.  A  number  of  men  —  recalling  the  Wise 
Men  of  the  East  —  enter,  bringing  all  manner  of 
silk  robes,  headdresses,  and  other  rich  gifts  for  the 
lady.  In  her  dream  the  faithless  wife  sees  all  this; 
she  tries  on  her  robes,  shows  them  off  to  the  neigh- 
bors, and  glories  in  her  riches.  Then  she  returns  to 
her  sleeping  position  at  the  table  and  awakens  to 
find  that  all  had  been  a  dream.  In  the  fourth  act  the 
husband  returns,  dressed  in  embroidered  robes,  a 
prosperous  mandarin.  He  pours  a  cup  of  water  on 
the  ground,  saying  that  he  will  take  his  wife  back 
provided  she  can  gather  up  the  water  again.  From 
this  play  comes  the  proverbial  expression,  "  Water 
once  spilled  cannot  be  gathered  up  again",  which 
means,  of  course,  that  a  wife  who  has  been  unfaith- 
ful cannot  be  taken  back  by  the  husband. 

According  to  the  custom  of  Chinese  theaters  only 
one  act  was  presented;  it  was  the  third  act,  the 
dream,  that  I  saw.  The  too-severe  strain  on  the 
chief  actor  who  must  sing  very  long  arias  is  gen- 
erally given  as  the  reason  why  plays  are  not  pre- 
sented in  their  entirety.  Sometimes  when  an  entire 
play  is  presented  —  this  is  frequently  done  at  guild- 

[141] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

halls  and  other  private  theatricals  —  three  or  four 
actors  in  turn  play  the  leading  role.  The  actor  por- 
trayed exceedingly  well  the  wife's  emotions  of  joy, 
surprise,  and  pride.  He  wore  a  black  dress,  because 
this  is  the  conventional  color  for  the  poor,  although 
it  was  made  of  fine  silk  instead  of  the  cotton  which 
is  actually  worn  by  the  masses.  In  the  old-style 
Chinese  music  (called  kuan-ch'ang)  the  flute  is  the 
leading  instrument  and  the  strains  are  melodious 
and  sweet,  not  at  all  offensive  to  the  foreigner's  ear 
as  is  a  great  deal  of  the  modern  music. 

One  evening  I  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  Chang  Ziang- 
ling,  the  present  Chinese  Consul-General  in  New 
York,  at  a  performance  by  Mei  Lan-fang  in  the 
so-called  First  Theater,  a  large  playhouse  built  in 
European  style.  The  usher  took  us  to  two  good 
seats  near  the  stage  occupied  by  two  ragamuffins, 
and  asked  the  latter  to  give  up  their  seats  to  us.  Mr. 
Chang  then  paid  him  two  dollars  for  two  seventy- 
cent  seats  and  explained  that  it  is  a  little  graft  on 
the  part  of  the  ushers  to  place  vagabonds  in  good 
seats  until  people  who  they  know  will  tip  them  come 
to  the  theater. 

The  play  again  was  a  Yuan  drama  called  "  Snow 
in  June";  a  play  discussed  in  a  previous  chapter 
under  the  title,  "The  Sufferings  of  Tou-E."  Mei 
Lan-fang  is  introducing  many  innovations  into  the 
manner  of  producing  plays,  turning  the  stage  into  a 
veritable  riot  of  colors  selected  with  exquisite  taste. 
The  rear  of  the  stage  is  covered  by  a  curtain  painted 
[  142  ] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

with  plum  blossoms  and  chrysanthemums  in  allusion 
to  two  of  the  characters  of  his  name.  The  execu- 
tioners, dressed  in  rich  red  trousers  lined  with  white, 
come  on  the  stage  leading  in  their  midst  the  victim 
wearing  a  long  robe  of  a  delicate  shade  of  light  blue. 
Some  of  the  executioners  have  their  faces  painted  in 
vivid  reds  and  blacks;  I  find  that  this  adds  a  great 
deal  to  the  spectacle,  even  though  it  is  the  very  op- 
posite of  realism.  To  illustrate  the  sort  of  gagging 
constantly  practiced  by  Chinese  actors  I  might  quote 
what  the  judge  says  to  the  prisoner:  "What!  One 
so  young  as  you  is  accused  of  having  committed  a 
murder?  For  this  you  will  be  beheaded.  Let  that 
be  a  lesson  to  you  not  to  do  it  again."  Such  a  feeble 
joke  in  the  face  of  the  innocent  young  victim  is,  of 
course,  just  as  fitting  as  many  calembours  in  Shake- 
speare's tragedies.  After  the  execution  snow  falls; 
that  is,  bits  of  paper  are  tossed  down  from  above. 
All  in  all  the  staging  of  the  play  is  most  agreeable 
and  Mei  Lan-fang's  acting  is  extremely  good. 

Quite  a  different  performance  can  be  observed  in 
one  of  the  "  new  "  theaters,  a  blight  which  has  come 
to  Peking  via  Shanghai.  One  evening  I  went  to  the 
one  in  the  "  New  World ",  a  four-story  concrete 
building,  an  amusement  palace  offering  for  the 
single  admission  fee  of  thirty  cents,  old-style  plays, 
"  new  "  drama,  story-tellers,  singsong  girls,  moving 
pictures,  performances  by  acrobats,  jugglers,  and 
sword-swallowers,  restaurants  both  for  foreign  and 
Chinese  food,  tea  room,  billiard  tables,  and  bowling 

[143] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

alleys,  convex  and  concave  mirrors,  and  penny  slot- 
machines  showing  pictures  of  various  sorts.  ("A 
number  of  these  pictures  were  of  rather  coarse  nat- 
ure," observes  Mr.  Sidney  Gamble  in  his  "  Peking, 
A  Social  Survey",  "but  none  of  them  could  be  called 
immoral.")  My  goal  was  the  "new"  theater, 
namely  plays  staged  in  what  the  Chinese  fondly  be- 
lieve to  be  the  manner  of  the  Occidental  theaters. 
Before  a  very  crowded  auditorium  a  play  was  being 
performed  by  actors  dressed  in  European  style,  or 
perhaps  better,  the  style  of  the  mail-order-house 
type  of  clothing.  The  play  was  in  spoken  Chinese, 
and  no  music  accompanied  the  action.  Only  in  the 
intermissions  between  the  rather  short  scenes  the 
band  from  the  Boys'  Industrial  School,  sitting  in 
a  corner  in  the  rear  of  the  hall,  played  "John 
Brown's  Body  "  and  other  appropriate  dirges. 

The  play  dealt  with  a  woman  who  had  lured  men 
into  her  house  in  order  to  have  them  robbed  there 
by  her  accomplices.  This  woman  was  dressed  in  a 
red  silk  waist  and  a  lavender  skirt;  she  no  doubt 
seemed  very  Western  to  the  audience,  because  she 
wore  a  corset  and  allowed  the  contour  of  her  body 
to  show  instead  of  being  bound  so  as  to  look 
flat-chested  like  the  Chinese  women.  The  part,  how- 
ever, was  acted  by  a  man  who  spoke  in  a  high  fal- 
setto. There  was  a  great  deal  of  love-making  of  a 
kind  unknown  to  the  Chinese  stage  —  the  men  kissed 
the  woman's  hand  and  even  put  their  arms  about 
her.   At  times  the  vampire  left  the  stage  for  a  short 

[144] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

time  with  one  of  the  victims,  in  a  significant  manner. 
Most  applause  was  accorded  the  actor  who  played 
the  ruffian,  when  he  strode  "toughly"  across  the 
stage  with  his  coat  collar  turned  up  and  his  cap 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes.  By  way  of  giving  a  good 
imitation  of  the  manners  of  Europeans  the  actors, 
when  speaking  to  the  lady,  consistently  took  ofif 
their  coats,  held  them  on  their  arms,  and  displayed 
brand-new  red  suspenders !  The  scenery  was  changed 
with  every  act  and  showed  crude  imitations  of  our 
painted  interiors  or  street  scenes  with  lamp  posts. 
The  play  was  endless  and  the  action  extremely  slow. 
This  heart-breaking  imitation  of  our  worst  melo- 
dramas is,  I  am  glad  to  say,  not  making  the  rapid 
progress  it  has  made  in  India,  where  it  has  driven 
out  completely  the  native  drama,  at  least  in  Calcutta 
and  Bombay. 

As  I  have  stated  above,  the  Chinese  stage  lacks 
scenery  almost  altogether.  Practically  the  only  or- 
nate—  and  to  a  certain  extent  the  most  realistic  — 
part  of  the  Chinese  theater  is  found  in  the  costumes. 
In  regard  to  the  dress  of  the  actors,  historical  truth, 
as  has  been  stated,  is  observed  to  a  certain  extent. 
The  magistrates,  the  courtiers,  the  yamen-runners, 
the  merchants,  the  doctors,  the  students,  the  priests, 
the  monks  and  nuns,  the  matchmakers,  and  similar 
characters  appear  in  appropriate  costumes,  but 
usually  much  more  elaborate  than  they  would  be  in 
real  life.  In  the  troupe  of  Mei  Lan-fang,  Peking's 
most  famous  actor,  the  men  carrying  banners  in 

[145] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

processions  are  dressed  in  silk  of  the  same  color  as 
the  cotton  gowns  which  these  ragamuffins  wear  in 
the  streets  of  Chinese  cities.  Honorable  personages 
appear  in  silk  robes  in  solid  colors:  purple,  yellow, 
orange,  or  red.  In  the  dress  of  common  soldiers 
the  spectator  finds  the  styles  of  the  various  periods 
followed  with  historical  accuracy,  but  the  dress  of 
great  warriors  is  fanciful  and  highly  ornamented. 
These  peacocks  of  the  Chinese  stage  with  their 
feather  headdress,  their  painted  faces,  and  their 
richly  embroidered  gowns  studded  with  little  mir- 
rors, are  the  most  colorful  sights  in  the  theater. 
Such  warriors  wear  shoes  with  thick  soles,  thus  add- 
ing about  three  or  four  inches  to  their  natural  height, 
a  touch  recalling  the  soccus  of  the  classical  theater. 
The  peculiarly  slit-eyed  expression  of  the  warrior 
is  achieved  by  binding  a  strip  of  silk  tightly  about 
the  head,  pulling  up  the  eyebrows. 

A  conception  of  the  immense  popularity  on  the 
Chinese  stage  of  the  warrior  performing  acrobatics 
signifying  tremendous  battles  can  be  gained  from 
the  Chinese  classification  of  plays.  One  of  the  two 
main  divisio^as  is  the  wu-hsi  or  fighting  play,  in- 
volving very  little  plot  and  almost  continuous  acro- 
batics or  "  fighting."  The  other  main  division  is  the 
wen-hsi  or  civil  play,  which  is  practically  the  same 
thing  we  mean  by  the  term  drama.  In  general,  the 
two  kinds  of  plays  alternate  in  the  course  of  the 
performances  so  that  each  division  makes  up  about 
fifty  per  cent,  of  the  plays  presented.  Westerners 
[146] 


ORCHESTRAL  INSTRUMENTS 
1 — Skou.    2  —  T  i-tze.    3  —  Peng-ku.    4  —  Hu-ch'in.    5  —  Ch'a.    6  —  La-pa 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

are  frequently  surprised  that  the  Chinese  do  not 
make  the  division  into  comedy  and  tragedy,  but  it 
may  be  well  to  recall  that  even  with  us  this  differ- 
entiation is  a  floating  conception.  Practically  all  the 
divisions  mentioned  in  "  Hamlet "  could  be  matched 
on  the  Chinese  stage;  historical,  comical,  tragical, 
pastoral,  and  so  on.  The  Chinese  have  farces  called 
nao-hsi  (noise  plays)  and  fen-hsi  (painted,  make-up 
plays),  both  full  of  comical  and  burlesque  elements. 
The  only  difference  between  them  is,  an  old  Peking 
resident  has  observed,  that  the  latter  excel  the 
former  in  obscenity.^ 

A  cross  division  of  the  above  classification  is 
found  in  the  distinction  drawn  between  plays  ac- 
cording to  the  style  of  music  employed ;  kuan-ch'u, 
er-huang,  hsi-p'i,  and  pan-tzu.  Among  them  only 
the  first  mentioned  has  an  appeal  to  literary  men, 
while  the  other  three  are  considered  fit  for  the 
mob  only.  The  kuan-ch'u  music  is  a  real  Chinese 
product  descended  from  the  classical  plays  of  the 
Yuan  Dynasty.  It  flourished  during  the  Ming 
Dynasty,  but  during  the  Ch'ing  rule  it  fell  into  des- 
uetude until  at  the  time  of  the  late  Dowager  Em- 
press it  had  entirely  passed  out  of  fashion.  In  the 
last  decades  there  have  been  made  fairly  successful 
efforts  to  revive  it,  especially  on  the  part  of  Mei 
Lan-fang.  The  chief  instrument  in  this  style  of 
music  is  the  flute.  Er-huang  and  hsi-p'i  are  very 
similar.    Both  styles  came  to  Peking  from  the  prov- 

'  See  Bibliography,  book  by  Arene,  for  examples. 

[147] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

ince  of  Hupeh  at  the  beginning  of  the  Ch'ing 
Dynasty,  and  in  both  the  hu-ch'in,  a  string  instru- 
ment with  a  sounding-box  played  by  a  bow,  gives  the 
characteristic  touch  to  the  music.  These  two  styles, 
together  with  the  pan-tsu,  are  considered  rather 
vulgar  music,  especially  the  pan-tsu.  This  latter 
style  came  to  Peking  from  the  province  of  Shansi, 
where  the  barbarian  Mongol  blood  predominates  in 
the  population  over  the  purer  Chinese  strain.  The 
hu-ch'in  is  also  played  in  pan-tzu;  but  the  instru- 
ment that  gives  the  name  as  well  as  the  character  to 
this  style  is  a  wooden  board  held  in  one  hand  by  a 
member  of  the  orchestra  and  beaten  with  the  other 
to  indicate  the  rhythm.  As  can  be  gathered  from 
this  fact,  the  music  is  very  simple  and  primitive. 

In  addition  to  the  instruments  mentioned  above 
there  are  various  others  employed  by  the  orchestra 
sitting  on  the  stage.  On  the  whole  the  instruments 
are  practically  the  same  for  all  kinds  of  music.  They 
are  shown  in  the  accompanying  illustrations  drawn 
for  me  by  a  Chinese  artist.  The  hsien-tzu  is  a  sort 
of  three-stringed  banjo,  the  sounding  box  of  which 
is  covered  with  a  snake  skin.  The  yileh-ch'in  (moon 
guitar)  has  four  strings  and  a  wooden  sounding-box. 
Other  wind  instruments  in  addition  to  the  ti-tzu 
(flute)  are  the  shou,  resembling  somewhat  a  bag- 
pipe, and  the  la-pa,  a  brass  horn  used  to  announce 
the  entry  of  great  military  personages.  Instruments 
of  percussion  outnumber  those  of  other  varieties. 
The  ch'iao-pan  are  two  flat  boards  tied  together 
[148] 


ORCHESTRAL   INSTRUMENTS 

1 — Hsien-tze.    2  —  Ah.    3  —  YUeh-ch'in.   4  —  Chiao-pan  or  pan-tze.    5 — Lo 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

with  a  string,  used  by  the  leader  of  the  orchestra  to 
indicate  the  time.  The  t'ang-ku  is  a  brass  plate 
beaten  furiously  in  battle  scenes,  as  are  also  the  lo 
and  the  ch'a  (cymbals).  The  peng-kii  is  a  drum 
made  of  a  solid  block  of  wood  which  gives  piercing, 
high  notes  when  beaten  in  a  whirlwind  tattoo  by 
means  of  two  thin  sticks.  The  ku  has  a  leather 
drumhead  and  resembles  somewhat  our  kettledrum. 
It  should  be  noted  that  the  size  of  the  orchestra  and 
the  kind  of  instruments  employed  vary  a  great  deal. 
However,  the  above  may  serve  to  give  an  approxi- 
mate conception  of  the  Chinese  theater  music.  Just 
as  in  much  of  our  own  earlier  drama,  emotional  or 
poetic  passages  are  sung  by  the  actors  on  the  Peking 
stage. 

Another  striking  similarity  to  the  European  me- 
dieval theater  is  the  fact  that  the  Chinese  stage  has 
its  fixed  character  types.  The  four  most  important 
among  these,  called  the  t'ai  chih  or  pillars  of  the 
stage,  are:  i,  the  cheng-sheng ;  2,  the  zmi-sheng;  3, 
the  ching-i;  4,  the  hua-tan.  Each  company  must  al- 
ways have  its  best  actors  among  these  four,  because 
one  of  them  is  sure  to  be  the  star  in  the  play. 

The  cheng-sheng  is  an  elderly  man  wearing  a  long 
beard.  The  great  actor  T'an  Shen-pei,  who  died 
about  five  years  ago,  but  whose  fame  lives  on  in  his 
many  imitators,  played  this  part.  It  comprises  the 
roles  of  emperors,  generals,  and  also  old  faithful 
servants,  the  latter  generally  characters  oppressed 
by  grief.    T'an  Shen-pei,  who  became  the  founder 

[149] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

of  a  tradition  called  the  t'an-p'ai,  was  famous  for 
his  skill  in  acting,  his  fine  singing,  and  his  distinct, 
measured  pronunciation.  Among  his  most  famous 
followers  are  Yii  Ssu-yen  and  T'an  Hsiao-sheng, 
the  latter  one  of  his  sons.  A  related  type  is  the  hsiao- 
sheng,  a  youthful  civilian  or  military  character,  fre- 
quently the  young  scholar  who  plays  the  part  of  the 
lover.  The  young  military  hero  is  called  the  ch'ii-fei- 
sheng  (wearing  pheasant  feathers)  and  the  young 
scholar  and  lover  shan-tze-sheng  (carrying  a  fan). 
Chu  Su-yung  is  the  most  famous  hsiao-sheng  in  Pe- 
king at  present.  He  has  been  nicknamed  the  "  living 
Chou  Yii",  after  a  hero  from  the  ancient  tale  of 
"The  Three  Kingdoms"  whom  he  frequently  im- 
personates upon  the  stage.  Mei  Lan-f ang  has  found 
in  the  handsome  Chang  Miao-shang  a  very  satis- 
factory partner  for  his  romantic  plays.  This  young 
man,  who  acts  the  part  of  the  ardent  lover  to  per- 
fection, has  the  probably  unique  distinction  among 
actors  of  being  the  product  of  a  Christian  mission- 
ary school,  the  Peking  Methodist  Academy.  The 
Chinese  criticize  the  weakness  of  his  voice  and  say 
that  his  reputation  is  due  only  to  the  fact  that  he 
plays  opposite  the  greatest  actor  of  the  present  day 
in  China. 

The  wu-sheng  is  the  military  hero.  To  imper- 
sonate this  role  properly  an  actor  must  be  very  skill- 
ful in  the  art  of  stage  fighting,  which  means  that  he 
must  possess  great  acrobatic  skill.  He  must  under- 
stand how  to  fence  with  wooden  stage  swords  or 
[150]. 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

spears,  and  furthermore  how  to  box.  Chinese  box- 
ing has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  blood- 
thirsty Boxers  of  1900,  for  the  latter  received  their 
name  through  a  misunderstanding.  It  is,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  most  inoffensive  art,  consisting  of  a 
series  of  poses  rapidly  and  skillfully  executed.  I  be- 
lieve that  formerly  it  was  a  method  of  fighting,  but 
that  it  has  become  thoroughly  conventionalized  at 
present  into  a  system  of  posturing  and  rapid  move- 
ments. 

For  a  gorgeous  riot  of  color  one  might  recom- 
mend a  play  acted  by  Yang  Hsiao-lou,  Peking's  most 
famous  actor  of  military  plays,  who  is  beginning  to 
command  the  same  salary  as  Mei  Lan-fang.  He  is 
known  not  only  for  his  ability  in  fighting,  but  also 
because  he  can  sing  well  and  enunciate  very  clearly. 
The  tourist  can  tell  the  home  folks  that  he  has  seen 
something  if  he  has  watched  Yang  Hsiao-lou  with  a 
face  painted  in  heavy  reds  and  blues,  wearing  tall 
feathers  on  his  head,  dressed  in  a  garment  embroid- 
ered in  rich  colors  and  studded  with  little  mirrors, 
mounted  on  shoes  with  very  thick  soles,  strutting 
about  the  stage  in  martial  attitude,  and  finally  en- 
gaging in  combat  a  similarly  dressed  hero  to  the  end 
that  both  whirl  about  the  stage  with  lightning  speed, 
while  the  orchestra  supplies  the  excitement  by  means 
of  a  terrific  noise  which  threatens  to  take  the  roof 
off  the  building.  It  makes  a  truly  exciting  spectacle 
of  which  even  an  untrained  Westerner  can  feel  the 
thrill. 

[151] 


I 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

The  two  types  of  ching-i  and  hua-tan  are  both 
young  women  characters.  The  difference  made  be- 
tween them  is  that  the  former  represents  an  honest 
and  simple  girl  generally  playing  a  sad  part  in  which 
great  emphasis  is  placed  on  the  singing,  while  the 
hua-tan  represents  a  woman  of  doubtful  reputation 
or  a  maid  servant  in  a  comedy  part,  requiring  great 
skill  in  acting.  It  is  one  of  the  merits  of  Mei  Lan- 
fang  that  he  acts  both  types  and  thus  breaks  down 
one  of  the  stiff  rules  of  the  Chinese  theater  in  the 
interest  of  developing  it  into  a  freer  art.  Indeed, 
for  over  ten  years  he  has  been  the  supreme  artist  in 
both  types.  It  is  said  of  him  by  Peking  critics  that 
he  sings  as  beautifully  as  a  nightingale,  that  he  has 
a  pretty  face,  that  he  dances  gracefully,  and  that  his 
acting,  in  the  Chinese  simile,  is  like  quicksilver  which 
fills  up  every  crevice  and  crack  of  a  hole  into  which 
it  is  poured  —  that  is  to  say,  satisfying  to  the  last 
detail.  Teh  Hing,  a  man  over  sixty  years  old,  is  an- 
other famous  ching-i;  however,  he  scorns  to  play  the 
role  of  the  hua-tan,  the  flowery  maiden  who  treads 
the  primrose  path.  Still  another  type  in  which 
Mei  Lan-fang  appears  at  times  is  that  of  zvu-tan, 
or  warrior  maiden,  a  role  comparatively  rarely 
seen. 

For  some  of  the  best  make-ups  and  the  most  nat- 
ural action  on  the  Chinese  stage  one  ought  to  see 
men  playing  the  part  of  lao-tan,  or  old  woman.  I 
have  frequently  found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  it 
was  a  man  who  appeared  with  the  sorrowful,  lined 
[152] 


A   DEMI-MONDAINE 
Chinese  Character  Type 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

The  two  types  of  chiug-i  and  hua-tan  are  both 
)  haracters.    The  difference  made  be- 

ii...  .:iat  the  former  represents  an  honest 

and  -  ^irl  generally  playing  a  sad  part  in  which 

great  emphasis  is  placed  on  the  singing,  while  the 
kua  '  Us  a  woman  of  doubtful  reputation 

—  "  \  .lilt  in  a  comedy  part,  requiring  great 

ig.  It  is  one  of  the  merits  of  Mei  Lan- 
fang  that  he  acts  both  types  and  thus  breaks  down 
one  of  the  stiff  rules  of  the  Chinese  theater  in  the 
interest  of  developing  it  into  a  freer  art.  Indeed, 
f,^v  over  ten  years  he  has  been  the  supreme  artist  in 
types.  It  is  said  of  him  by  Peking  critics  that 
he  sings  as  beautifully  as  a  nightingale,  that  he  has 
a  pretty  face,  that  he  dances  gracefully,  and  that  his 
n  in  the  Chinese  simile,  is  like  quicksilver  which 

n..  ..,  -^^very  crevice  and  crack  of  a  hole  into  which 
it  is  poured  —  that  is  to  say,  satisfying  to  the  last 
detail.  Teh  Hing,  a  man  over  sixty  years  old,  is  an- 
other famous  ching-i;  however,  he  scorns  to  play  the 
role  'tf  the  hua-tan,  the  flowery  maiden  who  treads 
the  primrose  path.  Still  another  type  in  which 
Mei  Lan-fang  appears  at  times  is  that  of  uni-tan, 
or  warrior  maiden,   a  role  comparatively  rarely 

.  ir  .some  of  the  best  make-ups  and  the  most  nat- 
ural action  on  the  Chinese  stage  one  ought  to  see 
men  playing  the  part  of  lao-tan,  or  old  woman.  I 
have  frequently  found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  it 
was  a  man  who  appeared  with  the  sorrowful,  lined 

[152] 


amAcmoM-nfaa  a 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

face,  the  black  headdress,  tottering  along  with  the 
stiff  walk  engendered  by  bound  feet,  leaning  on  a 
tall  staff  with  a  carved  handle,  and  all  in  all  giving 
a  perfect  representation  of  a  lao-t'  ai-f  ai  (old  lady). 
Very  touching  bits  often  appear  in  plays  in  which 
an  old  woman  in  her  broken  voice  bewails  the  loss  of 
a  son,  her  only  support  in  life.  Among  other  minor 
types  are  found  the  lao-sheng  (old  man),  the  ta- 
cking (male  part,  either  wicked  or  honest  —  his 
character  is  indicated  by  the  style  of  face-painting 
he  wears),  and  the  er-hua-mien  (usually  a  robber). 
In  addition  to  these  there  are  an  infinite  number 
of  other  possible  parts;  for  example  one  sees  not 
infrequently  various  wild  and  domestic  animals  in- 
terpreted in  very  droll  make-ups  that  recall  Shake- 
speare's "Midsummer  Night's  Dream." 

A  very  important  type  is  the  ch'ou,  the  clown,  as 
much  an  institution  on  the  Chinese  stage  as  he  was 
on  that  of  our  Middle  Ages.  It  is  very  difficult, 
Chinese  critics  say,  to  become  a  famous  clown.  The 
part  of  the  clown  consists  largely  of  improvisation, 
but  it  is  quite  risky  for  him  to  be  as  funny  as  he  can. 
He  is  permitted  topical  allusions,  but  he  must  gauge 
carefully  the  mood  of  the  audience.  I  remember  one 
quite  successful  hit.  In  a  certain  play  a  husband  re- 
turns after  an  absence  of  ten  years  and  finds  his 
wife  and  son  in  good  health,  but  with  an  added  bless- 
ing of  Heaven  in  the  shape  of  a  one-year-old  boy. 
He  berates  his  wife  for  her  infidelity  and  exclaims, 
"Who  could  have  done  me  such  a  turn?"   At  that 

[153] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

moment  the  clown  leaped  to  the  edge  of  the  stage 
shouting,  "It  was  he!"  and  allowed  his  pointing 
finger  to  sweep  slowly  across  the  sleek,  blushing 
faces  of  the  row  of  rich  merchants  in  the  front 
seats. 

It  may  seem  surprising  that  I  speak  so  glibly  of 
the  "best"  actors  among  the  various  types,  but  I 
should  hasten  to  state  that  this  is  a  matter  in  which 
I  do  not  give  my  own  judgment  but  the  result  of 
popular  balloting.  A  Peking  newspaper  holds  an 
annual  vote  for  the  best  actors  among  each  rubric, 
and  the  judgment  of  the  readers  of  this  journal  is 
generally  accepted  among  theatergoers.  Although 
the  daily  papers  are  an  innovation  in  Peking,  per- 
haps less  than  twenty  years  old,  yet  many  of  them 
have  their  theatrical  critics  who  "  puff  "  actors  and 
more  often  actresses  for  other  reasons  than  for  art's 
sake.  Press-agenting  is  far  from  being  an  unknown 
art  in  the  Middle  Kingdom.  Much  of  the  writing 
is  done  by  students  of  the  National  University  who 
earn  a  little  extra  money  by  this  means.  The  most 
picturesque  among  the  Peking  critics  is  a  Japanese 
called  by  his  Chinese  name,  T'ing  Hua.  For  the  last 
twenty  years  he  has  devoted  himself  to  the  Chinese 
theater  heart  and  soul,  and  shows  his  devotion  by 
adopting  orphans  whom  he  gives  a  schooling  as 
actors.  T'ing  Hua  has  over  twenty  such  "sons", 
one  of  whom  is  becoming  very  famous,  especially  in 
the  Shun  T'ien  Shih  Pao,  the  paper  for  which  father 
writes.   Yet  in  spite  of  all  touting  the  vote  reflects 

[154]    ' 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

the  popular  feeling,  especially  as  regards  Mei  Lan- 
fang  and  Yang  Hsiao-lou,  the  most  famous  inter- 
preters of  the  roles  of  young  girl  and  military  hero 
respectively. 

Theaters  on  a  commercial  basis  are  also  practi- 
cally a  new  thing  in  China ;  that  is  to  say  something 
that  has  developed  on  a  large  scale  only  within  the 
last  twenty  years.  Before  that  time  theatrical  per- 
formances were  given  mostly  at  temples  or  harvest 
festivals,  at  the  houses  of  rich  men,  and,  most  elab- 
orately, at  the  imperial  court.  As  a  sign  of  the  times 
I  should  like  to  quote  an  item  clipped  from  the 
Peking  Daily  News  of  June  28,  1922.  The  article 
tells  of  a  meeting  of  the  representatives  of  Peking's 
five  thousand  blind  men  held  in  a  temple.  The  end 
of  the  paragraph  I  shall  quote  verbatim  in  the  Eng- 
lish of  the  Chinese  translator: 

Among  the  business  matters  discussed  was  the  organ- 
ization of  a  blind  man's  association  for  the  purpose  of 
carrying  on  their  trade  effectively.  The  usual  crafts  of 
the  blind  men  in  Peking  are  singing  and  fortune  telling, 
but  conditions  have  gradually  changed,  whereby  theaters 
are  established  everywhere,  popular  education  has  para- 
lyzed superstition,  so  now  their  crafts  are  generally  get- 
ting out  of  date,  and  thereby  need  refonnation. 

But  the  Peking  police  force,  perhaps  the  best  in 
the  world,  has  drawn  up  full  regulations,  which  are 
adequate  for  preserving  order  in  the  playhouses  that 
have  multiplied  so  rapidly  in  the  capital.  Each  com- 
pany must  be  registered,  must  pay  a  tax  of  five 

[155] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

dollars  for  each  performance,  must  reserve  certain 
seats  for  policemen  who  keep  order,  must  not  crowd 
extra  seats  into  the  aisles,  must  avoid  immoral  plays, 
must  submit  all  new  plays  to  the  police,  and  must 
apprise  the  police  beforehand  of  every  performance 
to  be  held.  The  ordinance  requiring  the  separation 
of  the  sexes  in  the  theater  is  an  Eastern  touch  that 
is  sure  to  impress  Occidentals  —  who  have  forgotten 
that  in  Shakespeare's  day  also  women  were  confined 
to  the  gallery.  Peking  police  rules  demand  that  the 
ushers  and  tea-venders  in  the  galleries  must  also  be 
women  and  that  these  galleries  must  have  their 
separate  exits.  The  rule  that  spectators  are  for- 
bidden to  sit  on  the  stage  also  recalls  Elizabethan 
manners.    One  can  read  in  these  police  regulations : 

If  the  program  has  been  changed  and  the  spectators 
start  a  protest  by  throwing  teacups  at  the  actors,  these 
disturbers  of  the  peace  must  be  arrested  and  conducted 
to  the  nearest  police  station. 

There  is,  however,  very  little  disturbance  in  the 
theaters ;  at  least  I  have  never  seen  the  least  sign  of 
a  fight  or  quarrel  among  the  spectators.  Actors  on 
the  stage  are  forbidden  to  curse  and  are  fined  if  they 
do  so.  The  hours  for  the  performances  are  fixed 
from  twelve  noon  to  five  in  winter  and  spring,  and 
from  noon  to  six  in  summer  and  fall,  while  all  eve- 
ning performances  must  end  at  midnight.  The  latter 
are  an  innovation  at  Peking  and  are  taxed  more 
heavily  than  the  regular  daytime  performances. 
[156] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

There  is  also  a  ruling  aimed  against  "claques"  which 
forbids  too  boisterous  applause. 

On  one  occasion  when  I  took  some  New  Yorkers 
to  see  Mei  Lan-fang  in  the  role  of  "  Yang  Kuei-fei 
on  a  Spree",  one  of  my  guests  exclaimed,  "If  this 
play  is  permitted,  I  wonder  what  kind  of  plays  the 
police  forbid!"  The  obliging  Chinese  police  have 
supplied  me  not  only  with  the  regulations  for 
theaters,  but  also  with  the  list  of  forbidden  plays. 
Naturally  enough  gross  immorality  realistically  pre- 
sented is  forbidden.  There  is  no  question  of  the 
display  of  nudity;  it  never  occurs  and,  I  believe, 
would  hold  little  appeal  for  a  Chinese  audience. 
Some  of  the  plays  forbidden  are  rather  interesting. 

There  is  the  "Shang  Ting  Chi"  (Ruse  of  the 
Nail).  A  wife  killed  her  husband  because  she  was 
in  love  with  another  man.  The  police  were  unable 
to  learn  the  cause  of  the  man's  sudden  death,  but  the 
examining  magistrate  was  told  by  his  superior  that 
he  must  fathom  the  mystery  or  be  himself  beheaded. 
When  he  went  home  sorrowfully  to  tell  his  wife  of 
his  plight,  the  latter  asked  whether  he  had  examined 
the  part  of  the  head  covered  with  hair.  The  officer 
hastened  to  investigate  the  back  of  the  victim's  head 
and  found  that  a  nail  had  been  driven  into  it.  When 
the  superior  learned  of  this  he  ordered  the  officer's 
wife  to  be  arrested.  She  confessed  that  she  had 
known  of  the  ruse  because  she  had  put  her  former 
husband  to  death  by  driving  a  nail  into  his  head  and 
braiding  the   queue  over  the  wound.    Thereupon 

[157] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

both  women  were  put  to  death.  The  play  is  for- 
bidden lest  women  learn  how  to  rid  themselves  of 
their  husbands ! 

Another  forbidden  play  is  "  Sha  Tze  Pao ",  the 
story  of  a  young  woman  who  loved  a  monk.  One 
day  her  young  son  discovered  them  in  flagranti. 
The  mother  feared  that  the  boy  would  tell  of  her 
shame  and  therefore  she  killed  him.  His  sister 
suspected  a  crime,  told  the  boy's  teacher  about  it, 
and  he  in  turn  reported  it  to  the  authorities.  As  a 
result,  both  the  woman  and  the  monk  were  put  to 
death.  The  play  is  based  on  an  actual  incident  that 
happened  in  the  province  of  Hunan  about  forty 
years  ago.  The  sister,  later  in  life,  at  one  time  visited 
a  theater  where  this  very  play  was  being  staged  and 
received  a  shock  comparable  to  the  one  an  honest 
son  of  a  famous  murderer  might  receive  if  he  went 
to  visit  Madame  Tussaud's  Waxworks  and  sud- 
denly beheld  his  own  father  reenacting  his  crime  in 
wax.  The  Chinese  authorities  forbid  the  play  be- 
cause the  killing  of  the  child  by  the  mother  is  real- 
istically acted  out.  The  mother's  face  is  covered 
with  blood  as  she  cuts  the  body  into  many  pieces  and 
places  them  in  a  wine  vat.  It  is  a  curious  thing  that 
on  the  Chinese  stage  where  fixed  conventions  leave 
so  much  to  the  imagination  one  finds  occasionally 
the  most  revolting  realism  in  plays  of  the  "  shudder- 
ing" variety.  I  have  seen,  for  example,  the  victim 
of  an  assault  dragging  his  entrails  across  the  stage 
—  a  nauseating  imitation  of  the  real  thing.     The 

[158] 


EXTERNAL    ASPECTS    OF    CHINESE    THEATER 

Chinese  love  their  "horrors"  just  as  much  as  our 
medieval  ancestors  did. 

It  is  a  custom  on  the  Chinese  stage  to  play  on  the 
occasion  of  various  seasonal  festivals  pieces  per- 
taining to  the  holiday  in  question.  The  best  known 
of  the  seasonal  plays  is  perhaps  the  "Ta  Yin  Ho" 
(Crossing  the  Milky  Way),  played  on  the  seventh 
day  of  the  seventh  month  of  the  Chinese  calendar, 
that  is  to  say,  generally  some  time  during  our  month 
of  July.  This  story  is  an  old  legend,  varying  some- 
what in  different  versions,  related  in  the  quotation 
from  William  Stanton  in  Chapter  One,  where  Yang 
Kuei-fei  in  the  T'ang  Dynasty  makes  allusion  to  it. 
It  can  be  seen  on  a  number  of  stages  in  Peking  at 
the  time  of  this  festival,  and  is  staged  in  an  espe- 
cially colorful  manner  by  Mei  Lan-fang. 

The  same  actor  plays  another  mythological 
fancy  on  the  occasion  of  the  mid-autumn  festival, 
"Ch'ang-O  Pin  Yiieh"  (Ch'ang-0's  Flight  to  the 
Moon) .'  This  custom  of  seasonal  plays  shows  a  very 
close  connection  existing  between  the  popular  be- 
liefs and  the  theater  which  recalls  in  a  manner  the 
medieval  mysteries  of  the  Easter  and  Christmas 
seasons.  The  fact  that  some  of  the  plays  have  been 
written  within  recent  years  only  indicates  that  the 
Chinese  theater  is  in  no  way  declining  as  a  typical 
Chinese  institution,  as  is,  for  example,  the  popular 
theater  of  India.  What  the  visitor  sees  in  the  native 
theaters  of  Calcutta  or  Bombay,  as  has  been  stated 

'  See  outline,  page  105. 

[159] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

above,  is  a  diluted  imitation  of  our  weakest  and 
worst  melodrama  with  all  its  mannerisms.  In  con- 
trast to  this  the  Chinese  theater  of  Peking  is  con- 
tinuing as  a  living  popular  art,  introducing  some 
external  features  from  our  stage,  but  on  the  whole 
remaining  true  to  its  own  genius. 


[i6o] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 
The  Conventions 


>ytgr— yo  the  average  Occidental  the  Chinese 
stage  appears  a  very  queer  institution 
with  ridiculous  customs.  This  is  due 
largely  to  the  fact  that  in  the  Chinese 
make-believe  world  the  conventions 
differ  from  those  employed  by  us  on  the  stages  where 
we  mock  life.  We  accept  our  own  stage  conventions 
as  something  so  natural  that  habit  permits  us  to  for- 
get the  strangeness  of  the  devices  employed.  How 
many  Americans  among  those  who  have  been  under 
the  spell  of  the  realistic  action  of  "  The  Bat "  have 
thought  of  the  fact  that  the  characters  were  at  all 
times  moving  about  in  rooms  with  only  three  walls, 
that  darkness  was  symbolized  by  lights  carried  by 
the  actors,  that  the  attic  in  the  country  home  of  the 
astute  spinster  was  lighted  by  footlights,  and  that 
an  actor  who  had  been  killed  appeared  a  moment 
later  for  a  curtain  call?  And  if  in  a  play  that  has 
been  pushed  approximately  to  the  extreme  of  real- 
ism, an  unsophisticated  rustic  on  his  first  visit  to 

[i6i] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

New  York  might  discover  the  above-mentioned 
ridiculous  customs,  what  might  his  comments  be  on 
the  fact  that  Mephistopheles  sings  melodiously  in 
encouraging  Faust  to  fight  for  his  life,  that  stage 
whispers  are  heard  by  every  one  in  the  house  except 
the  one  person  most  in  need  of  hearing  them,  that  a 
flimsy  canvas  door  can  shut  out  a  stout  villain,  or 
that  the  last  words  of  a  dying  man  reach  to  the  very 
highest  seat  in  the  top  gallery  ? 

Thus  it  would  seem  that  any  one  who  laughs  at 
the  conventions  of  the  Chinese  stage  simply  displays 
his  provincialism.  Our  forefathers  tolerated  almost 
the  identical  conventions  on  the  medieval  stage,  as 
I  have  shown  at  length  in  Chapter  Nine.  More- 
over, it  is  a  very  striking  fact  that  there  is  in  many 
of  our  theaters  at  present  an  extreme  reaction 
against  a  minute  and  pedantic  imitation  on  the  stage 
of  the  realities  of  everyday  life.  Because  it  is  felt 
that  too  much  attention  to  external  things  deadens 
the  imagination  of  the  spectators,  stage  managers 
of  to-day  are  beginning  to  prefer  once  more  a  con- 
ventional presentation. 

As  a  Westerner  learns  to  recognize  the  conven- 
tions of  the  Chinese  stage  he  quickly  becomes  used 
to  them,  and  soon  he  is  as  little  disturbed  by  the 
make-believe  of  the  Oriental  theater  as  he  had  been 
before  by  that  of  the  Occidental.  He  is  then  ready 
to  appreciate  the  art  of  the  Chinese  actor,  which 
runs  the  gamut  of  human  emotions  quite  as  fully 
as  that  of  the  great  actors  of  the  West.  He  must 
[162] 


THE    CONVENTIONS 

know,  however,  that  the  rug  on  the  floor  of  the  pro- 
jecting, curtainless  stage  is  a  magic  carpet  which 
carries  the  actors  without  change  of  scenery  from 
Mongolia  to  Tibet,  from  the  market  place  to  the 
audience  hall  in  the  palace,  or  from  the  forest  to  the 
prison  by  the  simple  device  on  the  actor's  part  of 
walking  once  or  twice  about  the  stage  or  of  exiting 
and  reappearing  immediately  afterward.  The  stage 
has  two  doors ;  the  one  at  the  spectators'  left  is  gen- 
erally used  for  entrances  and  the  one  at  the  right 
for  exits.  However,  at  times  the  door  at  the  left  is 
also  used  for  exits,  if  the  actor  wishes  to  indicate 
that  he  is  not  leaving  the  house  or  is  otherwise  re- 
maining in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  crossing  of 
a  doorsill  is  presented  by  raising  the  feet  about  eight 
inches  off  the  floor  in  making  the  steps.  To  open 
or  close  a  door  the  actor  raises  both  hands  and 
makes  the  pantomime  of  drawing  a  bolt  and  moving 
a  door.  Slow  steps  in  which  the  feet  are  raised  well 
off  the  floor  show  that  the  actor  is  walking  up  a 
stairway.  When  a  general  ascends  a  hill  to  review 
a  battle  he  mounts  on  a  chair  or  table.  If  a  moun- 
tain is  to  be  crossed,  a  similar  pantomime  is  per- 
formed. That  a  man  is  on  horseback  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  he  carries  a  riding  whip.  When  he 
mounts  he  takes  the  whip  and  raises  one  leg  in  a 
movement  intended  to  imitate  the  action  of  leaping 
into  the  saddle,  and  when  he  dismounts  he  hands 
the  whip  to  an  attendant  with  a  similarly  appro- 
priate movement.   When  the  groom  leads  off  the 

[163] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

horse  he  pulls  after  him  the  seemingly  refractory 
whip.  Sometimes  these  actions  attain  a  touch  of 
realism,  but  generally  they  are — in  better  taste — 
confined  to  quite  conventionalized  movements.  Fre- 
quently they  escape  the  newcomer  entirely. 

A  mandarin  arriving  in  a  chair  walks  on  the  stage 
surrounded  by  four  attendants,  who  make  a  stoop- 
ing movement  such  as  chair-bearers  might  make  by 
way  of  setting  down  the  imaginary  palanquin.  A 
lady  traveling  in  a  carriage  carries  with  the  aid  of 
a  servant  two  pieces  of  canvas  about  three  feet 
square,  on  each  of  which  is  painted  a  wheel;  the 
squares  of  cloth  are  supported  on  bamboo  rods,  the 
lady  holding  the  rear  ends  and  the  servant  the  front 
ends  of  the  rods  as  they  walk  across  the  stage. 
When  she  descends  she  makes  an  appropriate  move- 
ment, while  the  servant  folds  up  and  carries  off  the 
two  painted  wheels.  Characters  who  wish  to  show 
that  they  are  riding  in  a  boat  indicate  this  by  carry- 
ing oars  with  which  they  paddle  in  the  air.  If  some 
one  is  to  enter  the  boat  an  oar  is  stretched  out,  the 
new  arrival  grips  it  and  takes  a  long  step,  as  though 
he  were  boarding  a  vessel.  A  man  committing 
suicide  by  drowning  performs  a  leap  as  though  he 
were  jumping  into  a  well  and  then  quickly  runs  off 
the  stage.  Some  commit  suicide  by  throwing  them- 
selves down  from  a  wall,  indicating  this  by  leaping 
off  a  table  or  a  chair  placed  on  top  of  a  table,  at  times 
falling  on  their  backs  in  a  manner  that  requires 
great  acrobatic  skill.  However,  many  of  the  somer- 
[164] 


THE  ACTRESS  KIN  FENG-KUI   IN  A   MALE   ROLE 

The  long  feathers  and  the  headdress  mark  the  warrior,  while  the  riding- 
whip  signifies  that  the  general  is  on  horseback 


THE    CONVENTIONS 

saults  and  similar  feats  performed  on  the  stage  are 
simply  ornamental,  with  no  symbolic  significance 
whatever. 

Stage  fighting  has  been  developed  in  China  into 
an  intricate  art  with  many  cut-and-dried  conven- 
tions and  a  minimum  of  realism.  The  warriors  fly 
at  one  another,  but  they  never  hit  with  their  swords 
or  spears.  The  art  consists  simply  in  making  quick 
passes  at  the  opponent,  whirling  about  rapidly, 
throwing  a  weapon  into  the  air  and  catching  it 
again,  or  spinning  a  spear  about  much  as  a  drum 
major  does  his  baton.  All  the  while  the  orchestra 
is  playing  wild  and  loud  music,  the  kind  that  Thomas 
Moore's  Mr.  Fudge  would  call  the  music  of  the 
spears,  for  every  tone  seems  to  go  right  through 
you.  As  neither  of  the  contestants  is  wounded  or 
falls  down,  the  spectator  learns  the  issue  of  the 
battle  from  the  fact  that  the  defeated  warrior  exits 
first,  while  his  victorious  opponent  makes  a  sort  of 
bow  to  the  audience  and  then  struts  off  with  a  digni- 
fied step.  Sometimes  a  spear  is  thrown  at  a  soldier 
who  catches  it  and  sinks  to  the  ground  clutching  it 
to  his  breast,  denoting  that  he  has  been  pierced ;  then 
he  runs  off  quickly,  a  dead  man.  In  stage  armies 
one  man  carrying  a  banner  signifies  one  thousand 
men. 

The  stage  in  Peking  theaters  is  lighted  by  day- 
light or  by  means  of  huge  arc  lamps  that  illumine 
the  auditorium  and  the  stage  alike.  Therefore  dark- 
ness must  be  indicated  by  a  conventional  symbol, 

[165] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

and  the  same  one  is  chosen  that  we  have  selected  in 
the  West,  namely,  a  lighted  (sometimes  unlighted) 
candle,  lamp,  or  lantern.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
recall  here  that  even  in  our  most  realistically  staged 
plays  the  darkness  on  the  stage  is  only  relative  and 
never,  except  for  very  brief  moments,  absolute. 
The  passing  of  time  at  night  is  indicated  by  the 
drummer  of  the  orchestra,  who  beats  the  hours  on 
his  kettledrum  while  otherwise  there  is  silence  on 
the  stage.  As  the  Chinese  divide  their  day  into 
twelve  periods  of  two  hours  each,  this  can  be  done 
more  quickly  than  would  be  the  case  if  our  divisions 
of  time  were  used  and  the  entire  gesture  is  fairly 
inconspicuous. 

High  military  officers  can  be  recognized  readily 
by  the  four  pheasant  feathers,  sometimes  as  long  as 
six  feet,  which  form  part  of  their  headdress.  The 
Chinese  call  them  "back-protecting  feathers",  be- 
cause they  are  supposed  to  ward  off  the  blows  of 
the  enemy  swords.  In  the  same  way  the  painted 
faces  of  the  warriors  can  be  traced  to  originally 
utilitarian  purposes;  about  a  thousand  years  ago  a 
famous  Chinese  warrior  whose  scholarly  face  had 
a  very  unmartial  appearance  painted  his  face  in  a 
gruesome  manner  in  order  to  inspire  fear  in  the 
hearts  of  his  enemies. 

The  manner  in  which  the  faces  of  traditional 
heroes  of  war  are  painted  is  an  attempt  at  a  conven- 
tionalized reproduction  of  the  facial  expression  of 
these  terror-inspiring  men  as  they  are  described  in 
[i66] 


THE    CONVENTIONS 

the  books  of  history  or  in  novels.  Therefore  it  is 
not  possible  to  give  a  definite  color  or  color  scheme 
for  warriors.  But  in  some  other  respects  there  is 
a  definite  custom.  A  face  painted  pure  white  de- 
notes a  wicked  person,  while  no  color  on  the  face 
means  a  good  character.  Pure  red  designates  an 
honest  and  faithful  man,  gold  a  heavenly  being,  and 
several  colors  applied  unevenly  a  robber.  The  white 
nose  is  the  mark  of  the  clown.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  that  in  Chinese  clown  has  likewise  the  three 
connotations  given  for  the  word  in  Webster's  dic- 
tionary: rustic,  ill-bred,  and  buffoonish. 

Gods  and  spirits  can  be  recognized  by  the  horse- 
hair switch  they  carry  whenever  they  appear  and 
by  the  slight  tapping  of  the  gong  as  they  enter  the 
stage.  The  ghosts  of  the  deceased  wear  black  veils 
over  their  heads,  or  bundles  of  strips  of  paper  under 
their  right  ears.  Whenever  any  character  from  the 
world  beyond,  god  or  ghost,  appears,  fireworks  are 
set  oflf  by  a  stage  hand ;  usually  this  takes  the  form 
of  large  flames  emitted  repeatedly  from  an  oil  lamp. 
Monks  and  nuns  carry  the  same  horsehair  switch, 
perhaps  because  of  their  "  spiritual "  lives.  A  bride 
can  be  recognized  by  the  red  veil  she  wears  on  her 
head.  Good  officials  wear  square  hats,  while  wicked 
officials  wear  round  ones.  The  wicked  jailer  in  his 
round  hat  is  a  frequent  figure  on  the  Chinese  stage. 

A  strong  wind  is  indicated  by  the  waving  of  flags, 
which  recalls  the  fact  that  the  flags  used  in  our 
operatic  performances  are  not  made  of  silk  as  are 

[167] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

ordinary  banners,  but  of  stiff  material,  giving  them 
the  appearance  of  banners  flying  in  the  wind.  A 
snowstorm  is  produced  by  flakes  of  paper  tossed 
into  the  air  by  a  stage  hand  in  full  view  of  the  audi- 
ence. A  sick  person  is  designated  by  a  yellow  cloth 
which  covers  his  face.  When  a  character  has  died 
his  face  is  covered  with  a  red  cloth.  The  head  of  a 
decapitated  person  is  symbolized  by  some  object 
about  the  size  of  a  human  head,  wrapped  in  red 
cloth.  Sometimes  an  execution  is  portrayed  by 
making  a  sword  thrust  at  the  victim  who  then  runs 
off  the  stage,  after  which  his  head  is  brought  on. 

For  new  or  exceptional  situations  new  symbols 
must  be  invented.  There  is  a  play  called  "  Chu  Fang 
Ts'ao"  taken  from  the  novel  "The  Three  King- 
doms." It  is  the  story  of  a  guest  who  hears  his  host 
sharpening  a  butcher  knife  and,  as  he  fears  the 
worst,  runs  off  under  somewhat  amusing  circum- 
stances. However,  his  host  was  the  very  reverse 
of  a  robber ;  he  was  in  fact  slaughtering  the  fatted 
pig  in  honor  of  the  visitor.  The  business  of  slaugh- 
tering the  pig  is  done  in  the  following  manner :  an 
actor  with  a  black  cloth  thrown  over  his  head  and 
back  walks  on  the  stage  in  a  stooping  posture,  driven 
forward  by  another  actor's  stick  and  making  the 
various  deviations  from  the  right  path  by  which  a 
pig  in  real  life  exasperates  the  swineherd.  The 
actor-pig  finally  walks  up  to  a  chair  on  which  he  can 
rest  his  hands  in  comfort,  while  the  business  of 
slaughtering  is  given  in  pantomime.  After  this  has 
[i68] 


THE    CONVENTIONS 

been  done  the  cloth  is  removed  and  the  man,  now 
neither  pig  nor  actor,  walks  off  the  stage  erect. 

The  above  conventions,  which  have  come  under 
my  observation  in  the  course  of  my  attendance  in 
Chinese  theaters,  do  not  by  any  means  exhaust  the 
list,  nor  do  they  represent  anything  permanent. 
Changes  are  continually  occurring.  One  that  I  have 
been  observing  is  that  the  long  conventionalized 
beards  no  longer  hang  down  from  the  upper  lip, 
covering  the  mouth ;  probably  because  this  was  found 
to  be  inconvenient  for  purposes  of  speaking  or  drink- 
ing tea,  and  some  one  hit  upon  the  idea  of  having 
the  beard  only  below  the  mouth  and  of  painting  in 
the  moustache  to  match.  Incidentally,  only  good 
characters  have  a  moustache,  while  the  villains  of 
the  Chinese  stage  have  no  hair  on  the  upper  lip.  One 
ought  to  note,  too,  that  these  conventions  are  not  so 
arbitrary  as  they  might  seem  at  first  glance,  but  are 
generally  founded  on  some  real  element  in  Chinese 
life.  The  yellow  dress  denoting  the  emperor,  the  red 
veil  marking  the  bride,  and  the  black  costume  sig- 
nifying the  poor  man  have  their  basis  in  everyday 
Chinese  custom.  A  mourner  on  the  Chinese  stage 
appears  in  white,  and  the  long  beards  of  old  men 
naturally  enough  have  the  same  color,  both  quite  as 
in  real  life.  The  symbols  are  an  imitation  of  real 
life  more  or  less  stiffened  into  conventions.  Of 
course,  the  origins  of  the  conventional  signs  are 
sometimes  a  bit  difficult  to  trace,  especially  in  the 
case  of  ghosts  and  gods. 

[169] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

From  the  instances  cited  above  it  is  plain  that  the 
Chinese  theater  contains  much  that  from  our  point 
of  view  tends  to  "destroy  the  illusion."  Another 
factor  in  this  process  is  the  "property  man"  — 
made  known  to  Americans  through  "The  Yellow 
Jacket"  —  who  is  ever  on  the  stage  in  the  midst  of 
all  action.  When  the  heroine  must  kneel  before  the 
judge  a  coolie  in  a  dirty  blue  cotton  gown  rushes 
forward  to  place  a  pillow  on  the  floor  lest  the  actor's 
costly  embroidered  gown  be  soiled.  An  actor  is  fre- 
quently handed  a  cup  of  tea  by  another  such  at- 
tendant ;  some  actors  to-day  even  equip  their  servants 
with  thermos  bottles  for  these  occasions.  A  general 
preparing  for  combat  by  removing  his  outer  coat  is 
aided  in  this  operation  by  ordinary  stage  hands,  not 
by  servants  forming  part  of  the  dramatis  personae. 
From  all  the  above  it  would  seem  that  human  nature 
does  not  demand  any  particular  kind  of  realism  on 
the  stage,  but  is  quite  able  to  adapt  itself  to  any 
illusion  whatsoever. 


[170] 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

Mei   Lan-fang  —  China's   Greatest 
Actor 


VERY  traveler  who  comes  to  China  hears 
of  the  fame  of  Mei  Lan-fang.  He  is 
told  that  in  his  visit  to  Peking  he  ought 
not  to  miss  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
this  male  actor  of  female  roles  inter- 
pret the  gay  or  tragic  events  of  the  lives  of  coy 
Chinese  maidens.  When  the  Chinese  Government 
entertains  a  distinguished  foreign  visitor,  General 
Joffre  or  Secretary  of  the  Navy  Denby,  for  example, 
Mei  Lan-fang  gives  a  performance  which  forms  the 
pidce  de  resistance  of  the  Oriental  splendors  shown 
to  the  visitor  by  way  of  hospitality.  Americans  who 
in  turn  entertain  Chinese  friends  in  Peking  gen- 
erally resort  also  to  a  play  by  this  actor.  In  1919  a 
group  of  American  bankers  paid  Mei  Lan-fang  four 
thousand  dollars  (I  have  the  information  from  the 
man  who  wrote  out  the  check)  for  half  an  hour  of 
acting  and  singing;  it  is  true  that  in  this  case  an 
especially  large  price  was  paid  by  way  of  gaining 

[171] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

that  imponderable  Oriental  asset  known  as  "  face  ", 
because  shortly  before  this  a  group  of  Japanese 
bankers  had  tried  to  impress  their  Chinese  guests  by- 
paying  Mei  Lan-fang  one  thousand  dollars  for 
an  evening's  entertainment.  The  common  masses 
among  the  Chinese  also  appreciate  this  actor,  and 
a  manager  who  succeeds  in  inducing  Mei  Lan-fang 
to  sign  a  contract  with  him  is  always  sure  of  a 
crowded  house.  For  five  years  I  have  had  the  op- 
portunity of  observing  Mei  Lan-fang's  work  and  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  justly  deserves 
his  fame  and  his  popularity. 

Perhaps  some  who  have  heard  Mei  sing  in  his 
falsetto  voice  and  have  seen  him  act  a  "  slow  "  play, 
or  opera,  if  you  will,  in  the  conventionalized  Chinese 
manner,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  screeching  violin 
and  ear-splitting  brass  cymbals,  feel  that  they  would 
have  been  willing  to  pay  a  good  sum  to  be  excused 
from  the  performance.  There  is,  to  be  sure,  a  long 
list  of  martyrs  who  with  lavish  Oriental  hospitality 
were  treated  to  interminable  sessions  of  Chinese 
drama;  General  Wood,  for  example,  recently  suf- 
fered two  hours  of  it.  I  should  like  to  say  that  in 
my  opinion,  keenly  as  I  appreciate  the  Chinese 
drama  and  its  interpreter,  Mei  Lan-fang,  I  realize 
fully  that  it  does  not  present  such  a  finished  product 
as  is  found  in  our  theater.  The  Chinese  have  no 
great  tragedies  to  place  by  the  side  of  Shakespeare's ; 
they  have  no  profound  comedies  such  as  Moliere's ; 
their  plays  are  never  so  closely  knit  as  are  our  "  well- 
[172] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

made"  plays;  while  in  staging  they  are  centuries 
behind  us.  The  Chinese  drama  is  a  case  of  arrested 
development ;  it  is  childish,  medieval,  and  very  trying 
to  our  ears.  Yet  it  is  typically  Chinese.  No  other 
art  is  so  popular  in  China  as  that  of  the  theater, 
which  presents  the  old  legends  of  the  nation,  the 
famous  novels  read  by  the  masses,  intrigues  such  as 
occur  on  every  hand,  the  music  of  the  various  prov- 
inces, and  the  moral  ideals  of  the  four  hundred  mil- 
lions in  general.  In  fact,  the  Chinese  consider  the 
theater  fit  for  ihe  gods;  for  whenever  they  wish  to 
thank  their  deities  or  reconcile  them,  they  give  the- 
atrical performances  for  the  pleasure  of  the  gods 
and  that  of  the  entire  village  as  well.  As  Mr.  R.  F. 
Johnston  remarks  in  his  characteristic  manner,  de- 
signed to  shock  the  ultra-pious,  the  taste  of  the  gods 
as  regards  the  drama  seems  to  coincide  in  a  remark- 
able manner  with  that  of  the  villagers.  Since  the 
theater  is  in  a  manner  the  mirror  of  the  Chinese 
nation,  and  is  also  of  intrinsic  interest  to  the  stu- 
dent of  the  drama,  it  is  well  worth  some  attention  on 
the  part  of  any  Westerner  at  all  interested  in  the 
Orient.  Furthermore,  because  Mei  Lan-fang  is  the 
most  widely  known  actor,  and  because  he  is  an  ex- 
tremely intelligent  and  progressive  artist,  it  is  per- 
haps best  to  approach  this  exotic  drama  through 
him. 

Since  Mei  Lan-fang  is  an  actor  and  his  ancestors 
were  actors  before  him,  he  comes  from  the  lowest 
class  of  society.   In  the  otherwise  extremely  demo- 

[173] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

cratic  organization  of  the  Chinese  empire,  where  the 
poorest  boy  could  rise  to  weahh  and  fame  by  virtue 
of  passing  the  hterary  examination  in  the  capital, 
sons  of  prostitutes,  lictors,  and  actors,  as  has  been 
said,  were  barred  from  competing  for  government 
posts.  This  system  of  examinations  was  abolished 
in  1907,  but  the  social  disqualification  was  felt  by 
Mei  Lan-fang,  for  he  is  now  just  thirty  years  old. 
His  youth  was  tainted  also  by  his  being  subjected  to 
unspeakable  immoral  practices  which  were  openly 
tolerated  in  Peking  until  the  Revolution  in  191 1. 
Quite  aside  from  this,  the  childhood  of  an  actor  is 
no  bed  of  roses  in  a  land  where  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence is  so  desperate,  and  ninety  per  cent,  constantly 
hover  near  the  starvation  line.  In  the  Southern  City 
of  Peking  one  meets  frequently  a  long  line  of  boys, 
with  prematurely  old  faces,  ranging  from  eight  to 
sixteen  years,  marching  along  seriously  and  apa- 
thetically under  the  stern  eye  of  a  preceptor  —  the 
pupils  of  an  actors'  training  school.  Or  if  one  takes 
the  morning  canter  along  the  city  wall  on  the  smooth 
stretch  to  the  south  of  the  Temple  of  Heaven,  one 
may  see  the  boys  at  their  interminable  lessons,  which 
begin  at  sunrise.  They  must  learn  to  sing  in  the 
shrill,  artificial  falsetto  voice  characteristic  of  the 
Chinese  theater,  under  a  master  whose  cruel  dis- 
cipline would  make  Dotheboys  Hall  seem  a  pleasant 
place  for  week-ends.  When  there  is  a  sharp  wind 
blowing  Peking  dust  in  a  gale,  the  boys  are  taken  to 
sing  against  the  storm  in  order  that  their  throats 

[174] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

may  become  properly  hardened.  The  competition 
for  a  HveHhood  as  actor  is  deadly.  Three  boys* 
theaters  are  training  hundreds  of  boys,  while  about 
two  thousand  actors  are  already  out  of  work  in 
Peking  or  are  being  hired  by  the  day  with  about 
twenty  coppers'  reward  for  their  long  hours  of  labor. 
In  such  an  environment  Mei  Lan-fang  grew  up 
facing  a  drab,  dismal  existence  such  as  the  vast  ma- 
jority of  Orientals  suffer  cheerfully. 

But  Mei  Lan-fang's  originality  and  talents 
brought  him  to  the  highest  position  in  his  art.  He 
had  been  trained,  because  of  his  slender  build,  girl- 
like face,  and  high  voice,  to  act  the  type  of  hua-tan, 
the  hetaera.  This  figure  appears  regularly  in  Chinese 
plays  in  the  role  of  servant  girl,  lady's  maid,  or  demi- 
mondaine.  The  method  pursued  by  most  tyro  actors 
is  to  attempt  to  approximate  down  to  the  minutest 
mannerisms  the  style  of  the  actor  at  the  top  of  their 
special  class.  Mei  Lan-fang,  however,  decided  to 
copy  nature  instead.  He  introduced  into  his  acting 
female  traits  and  foibles  observed  in  the  women 
about  him,  and  this  freshness  in  his  style  pleased  his 
audiences.  He  was  gradually  accorded  more  and 
more  prominent  parts  until  twelve  years  ago  he  was 
voted  the  most  popular  interpreter  of  female  roles 
in  the  capital.  The  actors  selected  as  the  best 
"lovers",  "warriors",  "old  men",  "old  women", 
and  the  various  other  conventional  types  can  count 
their  fortunes  as  made.  After  he  had  been  chosen 
as  the  most  popular  actor  of  female  roles,  Mei  Lan- 

[175] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

fang  commanded  fifty  to  one  hundred  dollars  for 
one  regular  daily  performance,  and  for  private  per- 
formances some  such  amounts  as  were  mentioned 
in  the  first  paragraph  of  this  chapter.  He  organized 
his  own  company,  made  a  triumphal  tour  through 
Japan,  and  began  to  fill  annual  engagements  in 
Shanghai,  the  "  Paris  of  China  "  so-called.* 

Let  us  suppose  that  in  wishing  to  see  Mei  Lan- 
fang  you  have  done  as  many  Pekingese  do  —  sent 
your  servant  to  the  theater  to  hold  a  seat  for  you. 
Your  menial  has  been  enjoying  an  afternoon's  work 
by  grabbing  a  good  seat  in  the  almost  empty  theater 
at  one  o'clock  and  warming  it  until  five-thirty, 
at  the  same  time  drinking  tea,  chewing  water- 
melon seeds,  smoking  cigarettes,  gossiping  blandly 
with  his  neighbors,  and  occasionally  watching  the 
actors  on  the  stage.  Now  comes  the  hour  for  the 
star,  and  you,  with  many  sleek  Chinese  merchants, 
displace  coolies  whose  figures  —  in  blue  cotton  — 
shrink  inconspicuously  toward  the  exit.  The  mo- 
ment you  sit  down  a  waiter  with  the  inevitable  tea- 
pot is  at  your  elbow,  depositing  on  the  table  before 
you  a  cup  containing  one  grimy  thumb.  The  tea  and 
watermelon  seeds  are,  as  they  say  in  the  Moulin 
Rouge,  "  obligatoire",  but  you  are  free  to  refuse 
threescore  flies  resting  on  a  bar  of  candy,  eggs  of 
uncertain  age  whose  whites  have  become  black,  or 
apples  just  the  proper  softness  with  which  to  pelt 

'  About  a  year  after  the  earthquake  Tokio's  Imperial  Theater  was 
reopened,  and  the  Japanese  honored  Mei  Lan-fang  by  engaging  him 
for  this  occasion. 

[176] 


In  European  Dress 


Ch'ang-0's  Flight  to  the  Moon 


Burying  llie  Blossoms  A  Young  Nun  Seeks  Love 

MEI  LAN-FANG 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

actors.  At  the  tables  all  around  you  men  are  audibly 
sipping  tea  or  eating  dishes  of  steaming  viands,  after 
which  they  wipe  face  and  hands  on  hot  towels  which 
the  waiters  are  passing.  Bundles  of  towels  continu- 
ally soaring  overhead  may  remind  you  of  bats  under 
the  rafters,  or  if  you  are  medically  minded  you  may 
exclaim,  "Look  at  them  throwing  the  smallpox 
around ! " 

The  indifferent  actors  have  been  on  the  stage  for 
hours,  impersonating  famous  emperors  of  the  time 
of  Attila,  cunning  counselors  as  old  as  Alcuin,  or 
sages  contemporary  with  Pope  Sylvester.  One  short 
play  or  part  of  a  play  after  the  other  —  each  lasting 
about  thirty  to  forty-five  minutes  —  has  been  going 
on  without  intermission  since  noon.  The  fact  that 
no  pause  is  made  between  the  plays  often  leads  for- 
eigners to  believe  that  Chinese  plays  are  of  serpen- 
tine length,  while  in  reality  they  are  no  longer  than 
the  separate  numbers  of  our  continuous  vaudeville. 
The  orchestra  leader  merely  beats  a  few  short  notes 
on  a  gong  and  the  stage  is  set  for  the  next  play  — 
that  is  to  say,  Chinese  drama  has  no  stage  settings 
whatever.  A  brightly  colored  curtain  forms  the 
background  of  the  bare  stage;  in  other  words,  the 
scenery  is  left  to  the  imagination,  as  it  was  in  Shake- 
speare's theater. 

When  the  hour  for  the  star  has  finally  come,  a 
special  fluteplayer  takes  his  seat  as  leader  of  the 
orchestra  and  sends  out  soft,  wistful  notes  that  con- 
trast gratefully  with  the  brass  din  of  the  preceding 

[177] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

battle  scene.  With  tense  interest  Mei  Lan-fang  is 
awaited,  for  to-day  he  is  to  play  "A  Young  Nun 
Seeks  Love." 

With  light,  mincing  step  he  enters  in  a  long  nun's 
gown  of  white  silk,  over  which  he  wears  a  white  coat 
dotted  with  a  diamond  pattern  in  light  blue.  Long 
black  tresses  and  a  narrow  black  belt  set  off  the 
delicate  shades  of  the  light  colors.  The  exquisite 
color  combination  is  enhanced  by  his  soft,  clear 
voice  and  the  emotional  play  of  his  facial  expres- 
sion. The  theme  of  the  forty-minute  monodrama  is 
similar  to  Browning's  "  Fra  Lippo  Lippi ",  a  story 
which  Mei  alternately  sings  and  recites  to  orchestral 
accompaniment. 

A  pitiful  existence  is  that  of  the  nun  with  the  shaven 
head !  At  night  only  a  lone  lantern  consorts  me  to  sleep. 
Time  quickly  pursues  one  to  old  age,  leaving  only  the 
memory  of  a  monotonous  youth. 

Sent  to  the  convent  at  a  tender  age,  she  finds  her 
life  at  sixteen  a  dull  round  divided  between  the  burn- 
ing of  incense  and  the  reading  of  monotonous 
Buddhistic  sutras.  The  abbess  has  deprived  her  of 
the  ornament  of  her  hair  and  forces  her  to  carry 
water  from  the  well  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  On  these 
excursions  she  has  stolen  long  looks  at  a  handsome 
youth  playing  outside  the  city  gate,  and  he  seems  not 
indifferent  toward  her. 

For  the  price  of  a  little  sympathy  I  would  be  willing        ^ 
to  go  to  the  palace  of  Yen  Wang,  the  god  of  Hell,  to  be 
ground  up  in  the  mortar,  cut  into  bits  by  the  saw,  crushed 

[178] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

between  the  millstones,  or  to  seethe  in  burning  oil.  My 
love  is  deep  enough  to  outweigh  the  punishments  of  all 
devils. 

Her  childhood  at  the  home  of  her  pious  parents 
had  been  an  interminable  droning  of  the  sacred 
syllables,  "  O  mane  padnie  hum,  o  mane  padme 
hum",  beating  of  drums,  ringing  of  bells,  blowing 
of  horns,  tinkling  of  cymbals  —  all  to  drive  away 
the  devils.  Her  heart,  hungry  for  a  bit  of  bright- 
ness, feels  cramped  in  her  cell  and  she  decides  to 
enter  the  large  hall  filled  with  the  statues  of  five 
hundred  saints  and  Buddhas.  Since  the  stage  is 
absolutely  bare,  Mei  at  this  point  goes  through  the 
pantomime  of  opening  a  door  and  closing  it  again 
behind  him.  After  some  quaint  meditations  before 
the  various  ascetic  lohans  and  the  figure  of  the 
"laughing  Buddha *V  who  seems  to  say,  "Why 
waste  the  precious  days  of  sweet  youth  ?",  the  young 
nun  decides  to  risk  all  for  the  sake  of  finding  love. 
In  a  graceful,  rhythmic  dance  Mei  moves  oflf  the 
stage.  The  young  girl  has  gone  into  the  "black 
world",  as  the  Buddhist  nuns  call  life  outside  the 
convent  walls. 

Another  favorite  among  Mei  Lan-fang's  plays  is 
"  Burying  the  Blossoms."   A  young  girl,  tormented 


'  This  popular  figure,  called  also  "  big  stomach  "  or  "  cloth  sack  " 
Buddha,  is  laughing  in  anticipation  of  the  happiness  to  come.  His 
image  is  found  in  practically  all  Buddhist  temples  and  frequently 
among  the  bibelots  collected  by  foreigners.  In  regard  to  the  taste  of 
collectors,  Baron  de  Stael-Holstein,  a  Russian  scholar  versed  in 
Buddhist  lore,  remarked  to  me  one  day,  "  The  ugliest  of  all  these 
figures  is  the  one  most  sought  after  by  Westerners." 

[179] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

by  jealousy  and  doubt  of  her  lover's  good  faith,  finds 
the  garden  path  covered  with  fallen  blossoms.  In 
these  flowers,  broken  from  their  stems  and  lying 
crushed  on  the  ground,  she  sees  the  image  of  her- 
self, a  girl  whose  parents  are  dead  and  who  is  neg- 
lected by  every  one.  She  takes  pity  on  the  flowers, 
and,  placing  them  in  a  silk  bag,  buries  them  under  a 
tree.  As  she  is  shedding  tears  over  the  little  mound 
her  lover  comes  upon  her.  The  explanation  that 
follows  effects  a  deepening  of  their  love. 

In  Professor  Giles'  translation  ("  Chinese  Litera- 
ture", page  368)  we  have  the  sentiment  of  the  play  ex- 
pressed (C/.  Moore's  "The  Last  Rose  of  Summer") : 

Farewell,  dear  flowers,  forever  now, 

Thus  buried  as  't  were  best, 
I  have  not  yet  divined  when  I, 

With  you  shall  sink  to  rest. 
I  who  can  bury  flowers  like  this 

A  laughing-stock  shall  be; 
I  cannot  say  in  days  to  come 

What  hands  shall  bury  me. 
See,  how  when  spring  begins  to  fail 

Each  opening  floweret  fades; 
So  too  there  is  a  time  of  age 

And  death  for  beauteous  maids; 
And  when  the  fleeting  spring  is  gone, 

And  days  of  beauty  o'er, 
Flowers  fall,  and  lovely  maidens  die, 

And  both  are  known  no  more. 

But  not  only  such  pale,  wistful  themes  are  found 
in  Mei's  repertoire.   The  "  Three  Pulls  "^  is  a  tragi- 

'  See  page  83^. 
[180] 


BURYING  THE   BLOSSOMS 

The  setting  in  this  amateur  production  shows  more  stage  properties 
than  are  customary  in  most  Chinese  theaters 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

comedy  of  bourgeois  life  where  Mei  presents  a  de- 
lightfully coquettish  wife.  This  is  a  four-act  play 
in  which  a  large  company  appears  in  gorgeous  cos- 
tumes of  embroidered  silk  studded  with  the  little 
mirrors  characteristic  of  Chinese  stage  apparel. 
The  various  characters  wear  historically  correct 
dress,  the  well-known  Manchu  robes.  But  as  an  ex- 
ample of  the  extreme  incongruities  in  the  mixture 
of  the  Oriental  and  the  Occidental  now  taking  place 
in  Peking  I  should  like  to  mention  an  incident  that 
occurred  when  the  play  was  staged  for  the  first  time 
at  the  Chen  Kwang  Theater.  This  new  playhouse 
has  a  large  European  stage  and  various  other  mod- 
ern conveniences  as  yet  not  fully  understood  or  ap- 
preciated by  the  Chinese,  for  I  observed  that  the 
petition  written  by  the  husband  and  later  flaunted 
in  court  was  written  on  a  three-foot  strip  of  toilet 
paper ! 

The  very  best-beloved  of  Mei  Lan-fang's  plays  is 
"Yang  Kuei-fei  Tsui  Chou"  (Yang  Kuei-fei's 
Spree).  Yang  Kuei-fei,  the  famous  concubine  of 
the  Emperor  T'ang  Ming-huang,  of  about  900  A.D., 
as  has  been  stated,  lives  on  in  Chinese  poetry  as  a 
charming  beauty  of  absolutely  bewitching  qualities. 
In  connection  with  this  play  one  ought  to  say  that 
drunkenness  is  rare  in  China  and  is  not  considered 
a  vice  or  a  disgrace.  On  the  other  hand  a  genial 
spree  is  looked  upon  as  an  exploit.  A  Chinese  gen- 
tleman will  tell  you  "I  was  roundly  drunk  last 
night ",  much  as  an  American  might  beamingly  con- 

[181] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

fide  his  triumphs  at  golf.  K'ang  Hsi,  perhaps  the 
greatest  emperor  China  ever  had,  used  to  urge  his 
guests  to  drink  heartily,  assuring  them  that  if  they 
drank  too  deep  he  would  have  them  taken  to  their 
homes  in  a  dignified  manner. 

The  plot  of  the  play  is  a  short  episode  in  the  im- 
perial palace.  Yang  Kuei-fei  learns  from  two 
eunuchs  that  the  emperor  is  supping  with  a  rival 
beauty,  and  in  her  jealous  rage  she  orders  one 
bumper  of  wine  after  the  other.  As  the  wine  begins 
to  take  eflfect,  she  performs  some  charming  dances 
in  which  other  court  ladies  join,  to  the  end  that  a 
beautiful  inebriated  ballet  is  performed.  The  eflfect 
of  the  dancers  in  the  ancient  Chinese  dress,  the  style 
with  the  long  sleeves  taken  over  by  the  Japanese  as 
the  kimono,  is  much  like  a  vision  of  fluttering,  multi- 
colored butterflies.  Later  Yang  Kuei-fei,  in  a  low- 
comedy  scene,  uses  her  charms  first  on  one  and  then 
on  the  other  of  the  servants,  who  prefer  to  run  away 
rather  than  be  found  in  a  compromising  position 
with  the  favorite  concubine.  Finally  Yang  Kuei-fei 
leaves  the  stage  alone,  singing,  "  Now  lonely  I  re- 
turn to  the  palace." 

One  specialty  of  this  play  is  the  manner  in  which 
Mei  Lan-fang  drinks  the  wine.  He  grips  the  cup 
with  his  teeth  and  bends  backward  very  slowly  until 
his  head  touches  the  ground.  Such  "stunts"  are 
fairly  frequent  in  Chinese  plays  and  are  used  just 
as  traditionally  as  some  of  the  byplay  in  French 
masterpieces  staged  at  the  Comedie  Frangaise.  The 
[182] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

great  T'an  had  a  very  famous  trick  which  no  actor 
has  been  able  to  imitate;  in  the  play,  "Seeing  the 
Ancestral  Portraits  ",  he  would  kick  off  his  shoe  in 
such  a  manner  that  in  falling  it  would  always  strike 
exactly  on  his  head.  Mei  Lan-fang  is  not  stressing 
these  acrobatic  and  other  tricks,  but  is  placing  the 
emphasis  on  the  interpretation  of  the  emotional  con- 
tent of  the  scenes. 

A  little  farce  that  Mei  presents  in  a  droll  manner 
is  the  "Ch'ing  Shang  Lao  Shiieh"  (Slave  Girl  Plays 
Tricks  on  the  Old  Schoolmaster).  This  play  pre- 
sents the  perennial  theme  of  the  impertinent  servant. 
The  make-up  of  the  old  scholar  in  Ming  costume  is 
comical  to  the  last  degree.  The  slave  girl  receives 
instruction,  together  with  her  mistress.  When 
asked  to  recite  she  does  so  with  the  swaying  body 
motion  commonly  found  in  our  urchins  when  they 
"  say  their  piece."  She  catches  a  fly  off  the  teacher's 
face,  and  in  mixing  ink,  spits  in  his  eye.  When  he 
sets  out  to  beat  her,  she  catches  the  switch,  and  as 
he  pulls,  lets  go,  with  the  result  that  teacher  falls 
back  into  his  chair  and  rolls  over  on  the  floor  with 
a  tremendous  crash.  After  suffering  many  similar 
tricks  the  pedagogue  decides  to  teach  in  that  house 
no  longer.  As  he  leaves  the  room  the  audience  sees 
that  the  slave  girl  has  pinned  on  his  back  a  picture 
of  a  turtle  —  than  which  there  is  no  greater  insult 
in  all  the  Middle  Kingdom ! 

This  is  the  only  play  I  have  ever  seen  that  makes 
fun  of  a  scholar.   I  consider  it  a  pleasant  tribute  to 

[183] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

the  Chinese  sense  of  humor  that  it  allows  them  to 
laugh  occasionally,  even  at  the  figure  of  their  na- 
tional hero.  The  scholar  who  by  virtue  of  having 
passed  the  examination  in  Peking  is  made  magis- 
trate or  even  viceroy  of  a  province  is  the  hero  of 
hundreds  of  Chinese  plays.  The  examination  in  the 
capital  with  the  attendant  change  of  fortune  in  the 
life  of  the  hero  is  the  dens  ex  machinaoi  the  Chinese 
stage.  As  an  example  I  shall  mention  another  play 
of  Mei  Lan-fang's,  the  one  he  played  before  Secre- 
tary of  the  Navy  Denby  on  July  17,  1922.  This  play 
is  called  "  Yii  Pei  T'ing"  (The  Pavilion  of  the  Royal 
Monument).  A  poor  scholar  on  his  way  to  Peking 
is  caught  in  a  heavy  storm  and  seeks  shelter  in  the 
pavilion  of  a  royal  monument.  He  finds,  however, 
that  a  lady  has  come  before  him  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  interior  of  the  small  building.  Since  he 
is  both  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman,  he  passes  the 
night  on  the  outside,  where  the  eaves  afford  him  only 
insufficient  shelter  from  the  rain.  In  the  morning 
the  lady  thanks  him  for  his  consideration,  and  he 
continues  on  his  way.  The  courtesy  of  the  young 
scholar  has  made  so  deep  an  impression  on  the  lady 
that  she  cannot  refrain  from  telling  her  sister-in- 
law  about  it,  who  in  turn  tells  the  lady's  husband. 
The  latter  thinks  that  the  story  is  only  a  disguise 
for  what  he  believes  to  have  been  the  true  state  of 
affairs,  namely  that  his  wife  has  been  unfaithful  to 
him.  He  therefore  divorces  his  wife  and  abandons 
her  to  a  life  of  misery  and  disgrace.  The  scholar, 
[184] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

on  the  other  hand,  passes  his  examination  with  such 
distinction  that  the  emperor  grants  him  an  audience, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  asks  the  young  man  to  tell 
of  the  noblest  thing  he  has  ever  done.  The  scholar 
tells  of  his  night  spent  out  in  the  rain  for  the  sake 
of  an  unknown  lady.  The  husband  happens  to  be 
among  the  courtiers  present,  and,  upon  this  cor- 
roboration of  his  wife's  story,  he  takes  her  back  into 
his  home,  and  all  live  happy  ever  afterward ! 

The  scholar's  quick  change  of  fortune  as  a  theme 
in  the  Chinese  theater  finds  a  close  rival  in  the  mo- 
tive of  filial  piety.  Among  Mei  Lan-fang's  plays 
the  latter  is  best  illustrated  by  the  play  "  Mu  Lan  ", 
the  name  of  a  girl  who  goes  to  war  in  place  of 
her  father  because  the  latter  is  too  old  to  undertake 
a  heavy  campaign.  It  is  characteristically  Chinese 
that  this  Joan  of  Arc  does  not  fight  for  motives  of 
patriotism,  but  out  of  regard  for  the  comfort  of  her 
aged  father.  This  fascinating  play  gives  Mei  an 
opportunity  of  showing  in  the  first  part  his  skill  in 
portraying  a  demure  young  maiden,  while  in  the 
second  part  he  can  display  his  address  in  the 
extremely  conventionalized  art  of  Chinese  stage 
fighting. 

All  of  these  and  many  more  characters  Mei  Lan- 
fang  is  on  the  stage,  but  of  his  real  character  very 
little  is  known  among  foreigners  in  China.  It  is 
known  that  he  has  a  kindly  heart,  for  every  year  he 
contributes  his  services  to  a  dramatic  entertainment 
arranged  by  American  missionaries  for  the  purpose 

[185] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

of  providing  shelters  for  the  riksha  runners  during 
the  bitter  Peking  winters.  One  reads  about  it  in  the 
papers  when  he  makes  his  annual  pilgrimage  to 
Miao  Feng  Shan,  a  mountain  temple  three  days 
distant  from  Peking,  the  traditional  shrine  where 
actors  worship.  But  artists  eager  to  paint  his  por- 
trait have  never  been  able  to  secure  him  as  a  sitter, 
because  he  is  very  shy  about  entering  any  society 
outside  his  immediate  circle.  I  considered  myself 
very  lucky  when  after  some  negotiations  I  secured 
an  interview  with  him  in  the  typical  Chinese  fashion 
through  some  friends  of  some  friends  of  his  friends. 
The  house  in  which  I  called  on  Mei  was  his  house ; 
he  keeps  two  other  establishments  —  one  for  his 
wife  and  the  other  for  his  concubine.  For  many 
years  Mei  Lan-fang  was  known  as  the  faithful 
husband  of  one  wife,  but  finally  friends  prevailed 
on  him  to  act  in  the  manner  of  every  Chinese  gentle- 
man who  respects  himself  and  to  take  a  concubine 
into  his  domestic  circle.  Among  Mei's  friends  I  met 
a  young  actor  with  eloquent  scars  on  his  cheeks ;  he 
had  been  the  one  who  introduced  Mei  to  the  con- 
cubine and  the  scars  were  the  result  of  some  acid 
thrown  by  a  brother  of  the  jealous  wife.  Another 
gentleman  present  was  a  stocky  officer  of  the  Peking 
gendarmerie,  a  useful  friend  to  the  actor,  because 
on  several  occasions  ruffians  have  attempted  to  ex- 
tort blackmail  from  him  by  violence  —  as  they  do 
with  every  one  in  China  who  has  any  money.  Mei 
was  the  last  one  to  appear,  wearing  a  long  white 
[i86] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 

silk  gown,  the  customary  hot-weather  dress  of  the 
Chinese  gentleman. 

Some  of  the  coyness  that  gives  such  a  true  ring 
to  his  stage  presentations  of  young  ladies  clings  to 
Mei  off-stage.  He  seems  like  a  charming,  bookish, 
slightly  effeminate  boy  of  seventeen.  In  reality  he 
is  thirty,  but  like  so  many  other  Orientals  he  appears 
to  Westerners  much  younger  than  he  is.  He  is  of 
the  frail,  willowy  build  demanded  in  a  Chinese 
beauty,  but  he  is  the  very  opposite  of  languid,  spar- 
kling with  vivacity  and  full  of  life.  His  voice  is 
high,  gentle,  and  soft ;  in  fact,  it  sounds  very  much 
like  that  of  one  of  his  heroines  on  the  stage. 

All  in  all  Mei  gives  the  impression  of  a  youthful 
scholar  rather  than  of  an  actor.  There  is  not  the 
slightest  touch  of  Bohemianism  about  him.  His 
favorite  avocations  are  music  and  drawing;  opium 
smoking  and  other  fashionable  dissipations  hold  no 
charms  for  him  whatever.  He  is  very  fond  of 
Western  music,  and  hopes  ultimately  to  win  over  his 
audiences  to  an  appreciation  of  the  piano  and  the 
violin,  which  would  give  him  an  immensely  richer 
field  for  his  musical  repertoire.  He  has  for  a  close 
friend  and  daily  companion  a  learned  scholar  with 
whom  he  makes  researches  in  ancient  works  dealing 
with  the  drama.  Instead  of  following  in  the  beaten 
path  he  is  intent  on  improving  the  drama  by  present- 
ing ancient  plays  with  a  staging  historically  correct, 
and  by  reviving  whatever  was  vital  in  the  past. 
With  great  pride  he  showed  me  his  extensive  library, 

C187] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

lingering  long  over  a  neatly  written  text  of  a  play 
copied  by  his  grandfather,  who  had  been  musician 
to  the  great  actor  T'an. 

To  sum  up  Mei  Lan-fang:  like  most  other  men 
who  achieve  distinction,  he  is  in  love  with  his  work 
and  devotes  himself  to  it  night  and  day. 

His  great  merit  is  that  he  is  bringing  good  taste 
and  sensible  innovations  to  the  Chinese  theater, 
which  had  been  stagnant  —  in  a  state  of  arrested  de- 
velopment. The  old  Empress  Dowager,  showing  her 
usual  bad  taste,  had  made  fashionable  in  Peking  a 
Mongolian  style  of  music  intended  for  open-air 
theaters  on  the  wind-swept  plains,  which  in  a  roofed 
theater  is  absolutely  ear-splitting.  Mei  Lan-fang 
is  returning  to  traditional  Chinese  music  in  which 
the  soft  notes  of  the  flute  prevail.  Instead  of  the  old 
hackneyed  themes  Mei  has  staged  numerous  new 
plays  based  on  the  famous  romantic  novel,  "The 
Dream  of  the  Red  Chamber  ",  as  well  as  many  other 
plays  written  especially  for  him.  Into  his  fanciful 
plays  of  the  type  of  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  " 
he  has  woven  graceful  dances,  an  absolute  innova- 
tion on  his  part.  New  and  often  historically  correct 
costumes  appear  in  his  plays,  enlivening  the  other- 
wise rather  drab  Chinese  stage.  In  contrast  to  the 
Chinese  habit  of  presenting  only  the  favorite  acts 
of  the  well-known  plays  (as  though  our  managers 
should  stage  only  the  balcony  scene  from  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet",  or  the  husband-under-the-table  scene 
from  "Tartuffe"),  he  presents  even  the  older  plays 
[i88] 


MEI     LAN-FANG 


in  their  entirety.  When  he  plays  in  Japan  or  in  the 
European  theater  in  Peking,  he  removes  the  ill- 
clothed  orchestra  from  the  stage ;  but  he  cannot  do 
this  in  the  native  theaters,  where  the  strong  tradition 
insists  that  the  musicians  must  sit  on  the  stage  and 
destroy  the  illusion,  for  the  foreigners  at  least. 

In  this  ability  of  his  to  make  innovations  and  at 
the  same  time  to  adapt  himself  to  his  audiences  to  a 
certain  extent,  lies  the  key  of  Mei  Lan-fang's  suc- 
cess. Even  the  most  hidebound  theater  devotees 
and  connoisseurs  must  recognize  the  skill  of  his 
acting  and  the  perfection  of  his  enunciation,  and 
therefore  they  are  v^filling  to  accept  the  foreign  ele- 
ments which  he  introduces.  Mei  Lan-fang's  great- 
ness lies  in  the  fact  that  he  is  able  to  introduce  bold 
reforms  into  the  theater  without  cutting  himself  off 
from  the  tradition. 


[189] 


CHAPTER    NINE 
Analogies  Between  East  and  West 


HAVE  often  met  with  people  who  ask: 
Do  the  Chinese  have  the  division  of 
plays  into  tragedies  and  comedies?" 
and  when  they  learn  that  there  is  no 
I  such  division  they  feel  this  to  be  a  great 
defect  in  the  Chinese  theater.  But  it  might  be  well 
worth  recalling  that  these  Greek  terms  did  not  orig- 
inally have  their  present-day  connotations,  and  that 
their  original  meanings  were  perhaps  not  far  re- 
moved from  the  divisions  which  the  Chinese  make 
in  classifying  their  plays.  Tragedy  meant  origi- 
nally a  "goat  song",  and  philologists  are  divided 
on  the  question  as  to  whether  the  name  is  derived 
from  the  fact  that  the  song  was  sung  by  revelers 
worshiping  Dionysus,  who,  because  of  their  ap- 
pearance and  licentious  character  were  called 
"  goats  ",  or  whether  it  was  sung  at  the  sacrifice  of 
a  goat,  or  whether  a  goat  was  the  prize  which  was 
awarded  to  the  successful  poet.*    At  any  rate  there 

'  See  Haigh,  "  The  Tragic  Drama  of  the  Greeks  ",  Oxford  Uni- 
[190] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND    WEST 

is  no  doubt  that  tragedy  was  a  musical  term.  The 
same  is  true  of  comedy,  which  is  the  song  of  the 
comus,  or  band  of  revelers,  who  marched  along  in 
procession  carrying  aloft  the  phallus  and  chanting 
songs  to  Dionysus  which  were  called  phallic  songs. 
The  scurrilous  remarks  interlarded  in  the  intervals 
between  songs  by  the  leader  of  the  comus  gave 
rise  to  the  form  of  light  entertainment  known  as 
comedy  in  the  theater  of  to-day.  In  the  Middle  Ages 
it  had  the  meaning  of  a  poetic  work  with  a  happy 
ending,  for  which  reason  Dante  called  his  long  poem 
a  "comedy",  which  later  writers  made  " The  Divine 
Comedy."  Thus  we  see  the  two  words  have  deviated 
altogether  from  their  original  meanings.  We  know 
very  little  about  Greek  music  of  these  earliest  days, 
but  we  hear  also  of  Doric  music  and  Phrygian  music 
employed  in  the  theater.  The  Doric  music  was 
grave,  dignified,  and  employed  the  harp  as  the  chief 
musical  instrument,  while  the  Phrygian  mode  was 
emotional  and  was  accompanied  by  the  flute. 

Now  let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  Chinese  clas- 
sification of  styles  of  drama.  We  generally  hear  of 
the  divisions  of  kuan-ch'ii,  p'i-huang  (a  telescop- 
ing of  hsi-pi  and  er-hiiang)  and  thirdly  of  pang- 
tsu.  These  are  all  musical  terms.  Kuan-ch'ii  is  ac- 
companied by  the  flute,  and  is  said  to  be  the  most 
literary,  the  most  graceful  and  soft ;  also  because  of 


versity  Press ;  Murray,  "  Ancient  Greek  Literature  ",  Appleton,  etc.  — 
So  far  as  I  know  no  scholar  has  suggested  that  the  goat  did  the  sing- 
ing of  the  •'  goat  songs." 

[191] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

its  lack  of  vulgarity  it  is  caviare  to  the  general.  It 
is  rarely  performed  nowadays,  but  was  quite  popu- 
lar in  the  Ming  Dynasty.  It  was  directly  descended 
from  the  classical  Yuan  drama,  whose  authors  were 
scholars  ousted  by  the  Mongols  from  their  public 
offices.  This  name  is  derived  from  a  geographical 
term,  just  as  are  the  Greek  Doric  and  Phrygian 
modes.  The  pang-tzii  came  to  Peking  from  Shansi 
during  the  Ch'ing  Dynasty.  The  chief  instrument  is 
a  rude  kind  of  fiddle  with  a  round,  flat  sounding 
box,  and  the  genre  is  considered  to  be  exciting  and 
vulgar.  The  er-huang  or  hsi-p'i  (said  to  be  very 
similar)  are  also  styles  adopted  during  the  Manchu 
Dynasty.  They  employ  as  their  chief  instrument  the 
well-known  hu-ch'in.  There  is  a  great  similarity 
between  Greek  and  Chinese  thought,  in  that  both 
speak  of  the  good  moral  eilects  of  music  if  only 
there  be  the  proper  harmony;  and  likewise  of  the 
immoral  effects  of  vulgar,  exciting  music.  I  believe 
one  could  find  almost  exact  parallels  in  the  writings 
of  Plato  and  of  many  Chinese  authors,*  even  so 
modern  a  one  as  Tsai  Yuan-pei.  We  modern  Euro- 
peans and  Americans,  on  the  other  hand,  seem  to 
have  given  up  the  idea  of  music  as  a  means  for 
developing  harmonious  and  moral  souls. 

In  practice  music  was  employed  in  the  Greek 
theater  not  only  by  the  chorus,  but  also  by  the  actors 
in  the  midst  of  the  spoken  dialogue  when  a  partic- 
ularly emotional  point  was  reached.   When  the  pas- 

•  •  See  "  Sacred  Books  of  the  East ",  vol.  XXVIII,  pp.  92-131. 
[192] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND    WEST 

sions  rose  to  a  high  pitch  the  musical  accompaniment 
commenced  and  the  actor  sang;  such  a  passage  was, 
for  example,  the  recital  of  the  forebodings  of  Cas- 
sandra in  ^schylus'  "Agamemnon",  interrupted 
by  the  Argive  elders  who  form  the  chorus.  Exactly 
the  same  practice  obtains  in  the  Chinese  theater,  as 
any  one  can  readily  observe  in  almost  any  play. 
Some  scholars  have  asserted  that  the  whole  of  a 
Greek  play  was  accompanied  by  music,  but  it  is  gen- 
erally believed  now  that  only  the  lyrical  passages 
were  sung,  while  the  iambic  dialogue  was  spoken. 
In  this  similarity  of  the  Greek  and  the  Chinese 
theaters  we  can  find  an  aid  in  our  efforts  at  recon- 
structing the  past  —  perhaps  worthy  of  considera- 
tion by  regisseiirs  who  attempt  to  put  on  the  stage 
to-day  some  of  the  plays  which  stirred  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  Athenians  of  old.  Possibly  it  may  also 
be  a  shock  to  some  who  have  seen  modern  repre- 
sentations in  which  the  actors,  as  well  as  the  chorus, 
employ  a  solemn  and  stately,  sometimes  monotonous 
recitative,  to  learn  that  the  ancients  sang  or  chanted 
a  great  part  of  their  plays ;  a  shock  such  as  we  are 
likely  to  receive  when  we  first  learn  that  the  ancients 
did  not  employ  marble  in  their  architecture  in  its 
austere  virginal  whiteness  only,  but  that  they  fre- 
quently colored  their  buildings.  But  just  as  a 
traveler  coming  to  China  may  see  beautiful  archi- 
tectural results  achieved  by  the  bold  use  of  color  in 
architecture,  so  he  may  come  closer  to  the  real  — 
not  the  pseudo-classical  —  art  by  reflecting  on  the 

[193] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

efifect  of  musical  interruptions  in  Sophocles'  "  CEdi- 
pus  "  or  Euripides'  "  Medea." 

In  Greece  the  theater  was  an  institution  which 
gave  performances  at  the  time  of  certain  religious 
festivals,  and  it  was  in  this  sense  a  folk  theater.  In 
Peking  also  there  are  certain  plays  given  always  at 
particular  festivals,  and  dealing  always  with  the 
supernatural,  or  if  you  prefer,  with  religion.  On 
the  first  day  of  the  New  Year,  for  example,  there  is 
the  "Ch'ing  Shih  Shan",  a  play  dealing  with  the 
gods'  conquest  of  the  devils;  on  the  fifth  day  of 
the  New  Year  comes  a  play  in  honor  of  the  god 
of  wealth;  on  the  fifth  of  the  fifth  month,  a  play 
describing  the  overcoming  of  the  five  dangerous 
poisons;  and  on  the  seventh  of  the  seventh  month 
the  "Meeting  on  the  Milky  Way."  These  plays 
persist  in  spite  of  the  commercialization  of  the  Pe- 
king theaters. 

The  student  of  European  literature  whose  field  of 
research  lies  in  the  reconstruction  of  the  past  can 
find  in  China  a  wonderful  source  book,  for  this  is  a 
magic  land  where  for  Europeans  and  Americans  the 
clock  has  been  set  back  several  centuries.  We  can 
see  the  Middle  Ages  enacted  before  our  very  eyes, 
and  get  in  that  way  a  vivid  picture  of  things  as  they 
were  in  the  Europe  of  yesterday.  In  illustration  of 
this  I  wish  to  cite  the  Chinese  theater  of  to-day,  and 
to  oflfer  the  suggestion  that  the  Shakespeare  scholar 
who  has  seen  the  Peking  theaters  of  the  present  time 

[194] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND    WEST 

has  —  if  one  may  use  the  figure  —  not  only  the 
words,  but  also  the  tune,  of  the  Elizabethan  drama. 
If  I  take  a  tourist  to  the  theater  his  first  remark 
often  is  that  this  is  just  like  the  Shakespearean 
theater.  And  it  is  indeed  not  surprising  that  it 
should  be  so,  for  China  to-day  is  at  about  the  same 
stage  of  culture  as  England  was  at  the  beginning 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  There  is  a  court  where 
royal  splendor  can  be  seen;  the  deposed  emperor 
still  receives  in  the  Forbidden  City  the  faithful 
Manchus,  who  come  in  gorgeous  raiment  and  with 
fastidious  regard  for  court  etiquette  to  oflfer  their 
congratulations  on  the  occasion  of  his  birthday.*  The 
ordinary  man  of  means  dresses  not  in  the  stereo- 
typed manner  of  our  present-day  civilization,  but 
follows  his  taste  in  the  selection  of  rich  purple,  wine- 
colored,  or  other  shades  of  silk.  Sedan  chairs  are 
still  used  as  a  common  means  of  transportation. 
Torture  is  still  practiced,  and  the  heads  of  executed 
criminals  are  hung  up  in  the  streets  in  case  of  a 
revolution  or  other  great  excitement.  The  servants 
are  typical  Dromios  in  their  submissiveness  and 
occasional  impertinence.  The  streets  are  frequently 
still  the  narrow  and  filthy  lanes  of  medieval  times. 
Most  important,  there  are  few  factories,  and  manu- 
facture is  done  by  leisurely  home  industry.  Much 
of  this  is  passing  with  the  coming  of  industry,  the 
automobile  and  the  tram  car,  the  Europeanized 

'  This  has  now  come  to  an  end.  In  October,  1924,  the  deposed 
emperor  was  driven  out  of  his  palace  by  the  "  Christian "  General 
Feng  Yu-hsiang. 

[195] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

tailor  and  the  moving-picture  machine;  yet  much 
that  is  picturesque  in  Peking  continues  to  flourish, 
and  the  theater  with  its  huge  community  of  actors 
is  one  of  the  most  conservative  elements. 

To  begin  with,  the  Chinese  and  the  Elizabethan 
theaters  are  almost  identical  in  structure,  and  for 
much  the  same  reasons.  The  origin  of  the  sixteenth- 
century  theater  in  London  is  to  be  found  in  the  inn- 
yard  in  which  a  platform  had  been  erected  for  the 
performance;  and  when  James  Burbage  in  1576 
built  the  "  Theater  "  outside  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
City  Fathers  of  London  he  erected  what  was  prac- 
tically an  innyard  without  the  inn.  There  was  a  plat- 
form stage  projecting  into  the  yard,  where  the  rabble 
could  find  standing  room,  and  a  gallery  in  which  the 
wealthier  patrons  could  be  seated.  The  origin  of  the 
Chinese  theater  building,  such  as  it  is  found  in  Pe- 
king, is  very  similar.  Performances  were  first  given 
in  the  courtyards  of  temples  or  of  the  houses  of  rich 
men.  A  platform  was  erected  at  one  end.  The  spec- 
tators stood  in  the  courtyard  or  sat  at  tables.  The 
latter  was  particularly  the  case  when  theaters  were 
held  in  the  private  courtyards  of  princes  or  other 
rich  men.  For  centuries  theatricals  in  China  were 
either  religious  or  private,  and  public  theaters  which 
any  one  may  attend  for  the  payment  of  an  admission 
fee  are  a  fairly  recent  institution,  but  when  they 
were  built  they  were  constructed  on  the  model  of  the 
temple  or  palace  theaters,  with  a  projecting  roofed 
stage  at  one  end,  the  cheaper  seats  on  the  ground 
[196] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

floor  and  the  more  expensive  ones  in  the  gallery. 
The  Chinese  audiences  have  been  trained  to  regard 
the  stage  as  anywhere  and  not  as  a  particular  place ; 
it  is  unlocalized,  as  in  Shakespeare's  time.  The  roof 
on  the  stage  serves  the  same  purposes  as  in  Eliza- 
bethan times ;  it  is  a  protection  for  the  actors  against 
rain,  and  a  "  heaven "  from  which  deities  may  be 
lowered. 

In  distinction  to  our  modern  theater  in  which  we 
present  a  series  of  pictures  within  a  frame  called  the 
proscenium,  which  we  cover  with  a  curtain  while  the 
pictures  are  being  shifted,  both  the  Elizabethan  and 
the  Chinese  stage  have  neither  a  proscenium  nor,  in 
general,  a  curtain.  In  both  the  stages  is  an  un- 
framed  rostrum  thrust  bodily  forth  into  the  audi- 
torium, surrounded  on  three  sides,  if  not  on  four, 
by  spectators.  In  short  it  is  not  a  picture  stage,  but 
a  platform  stage.  On  such  a  stage  there  can  be,  of 
course,  no  question  of  artistic  lighting  effects;  the 
plays  are  performed  either  by  daylight,  as  they  were 
in  Shakespeare's  day,  or  by  the  light  of  huge  arc 
lamps  that  illuminate  stage  and  audience  alike.  As 
the  actors  cannot  present  artistic  stage  pictures  to 
three  sides  of  the  house  at  the  same  time,  it  is  not 
surprising  that,  as  the  English  literary  historians 
tell  us,  the  appeal  was  more  to  the  ear  than  to  the 
eye.  That  this  is  equally  true  in  China  is  seen  from 
the  Peking  term  for  a  theatrical  performance,  t'ing- 
hsi,  which  means  a  play  that  is  heard.  In  old  Pe- 
king theaters  the  seats  on  the  ground  floor  are 

[197] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

arranged  at  right  angles  to  the  stage,  along  tables  on 
which  are  served  tea  and  cakes ;  recently  built  thea- 
tres, however,  have  their  seats  (with  rails  for  the 
inevitable  teapots)  running  parallel  to  the  stage. 

In  speaking  of  the  chief  characteristics  that  dis- 
tinguish the  Elizabethan  from  other  stages  Pro- 
fessor Thorndyke  says : * 

The  fixed  and  most  important  principle  was  the  use  of 
the  projecting  platfomi  as  a  sort  of  neutral,  vaguely 
localized  territory,  where  almost  anything  might  happen. 
The  second  principle  was  the  use  of  the  inner  stage  with 
its  curtains  (and  to  some  extent  the  upper  stage)  as  a 
means  to  denote  locality  more  exactly,  to  employ  prop- 
erties more  readily,  and  to  indicate  changes  of  scene  more 
eflfectively. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  is  apparent  that  in 
regard  to  the  first  principle  the  Chinese  and  the 
Shakespearean  stage  are  identical.  In  regard  to  the 
use  of  the  curtain  and  the  inner  stage,  scholars  are 
very  much  divided  as  to  the  manner  and  frequency 
with  which  they  were  employed.  To  quote  Pro- 
fessor Thorndyke  once  more :  '^ 

The  total  evidence  of  the  stage  directions  alone  in- 
dicates that  the  arrangement  prescribed  was  in  general 
use  in  important  theaters,  public  and  private,  though 
doubtless  its  adoption  was  gradual  and  subject  to  varia- 
tion. We  may  suppose  that  the  size  and  visibility  of  the 
inner  stage  varied  in  different  theaters,  and  that  the  extent 

'  Thorndyke,  "  Shakespeare's  Theater ",  Macmillan  Company, 
page  139. 

'  Jb.,  page  87. 

[198] 


THE  FORTUNE  THEATER 


A  TYPICAL  PEKING  THEATER 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

to  which  the  curtain  was  used  changed  from  decade  to 
decade,  or  playwright  to  playwright,  or  manager  to 
manager,  or  even  according  to  the  state  of  the  weather 
and  hght. 

The  use  of  the  curtain  in  Chinese  theaters  is  very 
rare;  and  the  curtain  itself  is  by  no  means  like  the 
curtain  to  which  we  are  accustomed.  When  a  rela- 
tively elaborate  setting  is  about  to  be  placed  on  the 
stage  a  curtain  about  ten  feet  high  by  about  twenty 
feet  wide  is  carried  by  stage  hands  to  the  front  of 
the  stage,  and  there  stretched  out  to  cut  off  the  view 
of  the  audience.  The  ends  of  the  curtain  are  each 
sewed  to  a  bamboo  pole  held  upright  by  two  coolies. 
In  this  most  primitive  manner  a  garden  setting  or  a 
heavenly  throne  is  made  to  appear  to  the  audience 
in  one  burst  of  glory  instead  of  being  carried  on 
piece  by  piece,  as  is  the  case  with  most  properties 
and  sceneries.  The  Chinese  playhouse  has  no  inner 
and  likewise  no  upper  stage.  Curtains  about  beds 
or  other  pieces  of  furniture  are  used  to  "  discover  " 
actors  in  the  same  manner  as  was  done  on  the  Eliza- 
bethan stage.  But  all  of  these  articles  are  regularly 
carried  on  the  stage  in  full  view  of  the  audience. 
The  size  of  the  two  stages  seems  to  be  about  the 
same,  except  that  the  Elizabethan  was  much  wider. 
The  dimensions  given  for  the  stage  of  the  Fortune 
are  forty-three  feet  wide  by  twenty-seven  and  a  half 
feet  deep;  while  a  typical  Chinese  stage  measures 
about  twenty-five  feet  in  both  directions. 

We  generally  think  of  the  Elizabethan  stage  as 

[199] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

very  primitive,  and  in  this  respect  the  Chinese  stage 
is  very  much  like  it,  only  a  bit  more  so.  Both  stages 
lack  curtains,  and  therefore  in  both  properties  are 
brought  on  in  full  sight  of  the  audience,  making 
necessary  in  China  the  "property  men"  who  fur- 
nished so  much  amusement  in  the  performances  of 
"The  Yellow  Jacket."  Shakespeare  however  ar- 
ranged that  at  the  end  of  a  play,  for  example  in 
"Hamlet",  the  dead  were  carried  off  the  stage, 
while  in  Peking  convention  allows  that  a  victim 
of  murder  arise  and  walk  off,  after  having  gone 
through  the  motion  of  falling  dead.  The  London 
theaters  also  had  (at  least  such  seems  to  have  been 
definitely  proved  by  recent  writers)  a  small  curtain 
at  the  rear  of  the  stage  shutting  off  a  place  which 
served  as  cave,  shop,  tomb,  bed,  Bathsheba's  bath, 
or  any  other  locality  that  needed  to  be  "discovered." 
In  Peking  theaters  things  are  much  more  conven- 
tionalized; a. table  represents  a  shop,  a  blue  curtain 
with  lines  painted  on  it,  held  up  by  two  stage  hands, 
makes  a  city  wall,  a  chair  may  be  a  gate  or  a  prison 
door,  a  boat  on  a  lake  may  be  represented  simply  by 
the  actors  appearing  with  oars  with  which  they  seem 
to  be  rowing.  Much  is  also  symbolized ;  an  actor  on 
the  bare  stage  goes  through  the  motions  of  opening 
and  shutting  a  door  and  thus  shows  that  he  has  left 
the  house.  When  a  curtain  is  needed  to  represent  a 
listener  in  another  room,  or  a  patient  in  a  bed  behind 
drawn  curtains,  two  vertical  bamboo  poles  with  a 
horizontal  one  attached  to  them  from  which  the  cur- 
[200] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND    WEST 

tain  hangs  are  placed  on  the  stage  by  the  "  property 
men."  The  arrangement  is  most  primitive  and 
casual ;  the  poles  are  generally  tied  to  chairs.  If  the 
drawing  of  the  "Swan"  showing  neither  an  inner 
stage  nor  a  curtain  is  authentic,  a  similar  portable 
curtain  may  have  been  the  method  employed  in 
Elizabethan  times.  In  Peking  this  is  a  rich,  figured 
fabric,  even  though  not  exactly  an  "Arras."  If  a 
Chinese  Polonius  were  to  conceal  himself  behind 
the  arras,  it  would  have  been  previously  brought  on 
by  the  "  property  men"  at  the  beginning  of  the  act 
or  perhaps  even  just  a  few  moments  before  it  was 
needed.  In  a  Chinese  theater  the  center  back  of  the 
stage  is  a  wall  hung  with  a  rich  piece  of  tapestry  just 
as  free  from  doors  or  recesses  as  the  wall  of  the 
"  Swan."  There  are  doors,  however,  at  both  sides 
of  the  rear  wall,  corresponding  to  those  in  the 
"  Swan  "  drawing.  As  the  Chinese  theater  has  no 
upper  stage,  men  on  a  city  wall,  for  example,  stand 
on  a  table  behind  the  curtain  held  up  by  the  stage 
hands.  A  general  surveying  his  troops  from  a  moun- 
tain top  or  a  god  on  his  throne  in  heaven  sit  on  a 
chair  placed  on  top  of  a  table. 

In  the  paucity  of  the  stage  properties  we  find  an- 
other parallel.  In  Albright's  "The  Shakespearean 
Stage",*  the  properties  are  listed,  and  I  can  say 
from  my  five  years'  experience  that  the  same  and  no 
more  are  found  on  the  Chinese  stage;  bedroom:  a 
bed,  table,  chairs  or  stools,  and  lights ;  a  hall :  table, 

•  Page  76. 

[201] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

chairs,  and  stools ;  presence  chamber :  a  throne,  and 
occasionally  tables  and  chairs;  a  church:  an  altar, 
and  if  needed  a  tomb;  prison  scenes:  usually  no 
properties  are  mentioned  except  fetters  and  chains ; 
woods  or  park :  large  and  small  artificial  trees,  shrub- 
bery, and  benches ;  shop  scenes :  a  counter  and  a  few 
wares.  The  Chinese  theater  is  often  even  a  bit  more 
simple;  for  example,  a  chair  serves  as  a  throne,  or  a 
table  with  a  few  decorations  as  an  altar.  However, 
for  certain  plays  fairly  elaborate  paper  properties 
are  used,  which  are  brought  on  and  removed  in  full 
sight  of  the  audience.  In  both  theaters  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  audience  is  strained  a  great  deal  more 
than  is  the  case  in  a  Belasco  play;  and  many  conven- 
tions that  differ  from  ours,  such  as  bringing  on 
properties  in  full  sight  of  the  audience,  seem  just  as 
natural  as  it  seems  to  us  that  a  stage  room  has  only 
three  walls. 

Even  though  the  Elizabethan  and  the  Chinese 
stages  have  no  scenery  of  any  kind,  yet  it  is  wrong 
to  imagine  that  they  seem  bare,  for  the  color  is  sup- 
plied in  the  rich  and  elaborate  robes  of  the  actors. 
A  Chinese  stage  filled  with  actors  in  court  costumes 
of  yellow,  red,  black,  blue,  or  purple,  with  inwoven 
designs,  fierce  warriors  with  masks  or  painted  faces, 
wearing  pheasant  feathers  six  feet  long,  and  lovely 
maidens  in  costumes  of  exquisite  pastel  shades, 
walking  or  running  about  on  a  gaudy  Oriental  rug 
against  a  background  of  rich  tapestry,  form  a  veri- 
table riot  of  color,  very  similar  in  its  effect,  no  doubt, 
[202] 


THE  ORCHESTRA  SEATED  IN  A  CORNER  OF  THE  STAGE 

From  Jarovleff,  "Le  Theatre  Chinois" 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND    WEST 

to  what  was  seen  on  the  Elizabethan  stage  when  the 
actors  appeared  in  their  gowns  costing  from  f8o  to 
£100  in  modern  money.  They  were  elaborate  crea- 
tions of  velvet  trimmed  with  gold  and  silver  lace 
and  embroidery,  capped  by  the  "  forest  of  feathers  " 
that  Hamlet  mentions  as  necessary  for  the  equip- 
ment of  an  actor,  with  tapestry  from  Arras  as  back- 
ground. To  quote  Professor  Thorndyke,^  "No 
stage  cared  more  for  fine  clothes  than  the  Eliza- 
bethan or  lavished  a  larger  portion  of  its  expenses 
on  dress."  In  both  theaters  almost  no  attention  is 
paid  to  historical  appropriateness  of  costume.  Eliza- 
bethan actors  sometimes  wore  masks  also,  just  as 
the  Chinese  often  do. 

The  stage  direction  "  alarums  "  for  the  entry  of  a 
king  or  other  important  personage,  which  may  never 
have  been  associated  by  the  reader  with  anything 
definite  at  all,  will  be  full  of  meaning  to  any  West- 
erner who  has  heard  the  Chinese  orchestra  sound 
the  Leitmotiv  for  the  entry  of  a  famous  general. 
The  Chinese  orchestra  sits  on  the  stage  in  full  view 
of  the  audience,  while  in  Shakespeare's  day  the  upper 
stage  was  the  normal  place  for  the  "noise."  The 
use  in  the  Elizabethan  days  of  the  word  "noise" 
for  both  music  and  orchestra  establishes  another 
great  similarity  between  the  two  theaters.  In  Shake- 
speare's day  the  music  seems  to  have  been  confined 
chiefly  to  the  intermissions  between  the  acts  and  to 
occasional  songs,  while  in  the  Chinese  drama  almost 

'  op.  cit.,  page  304. 

[203] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

every  emotional  part  is  punctuated  by  song.  It  ap- 
proaches close  to  opera  in  many  cases  in  the  number 
of  lines  sung  by  the  actors.  One  division  of  Chinese 
plays  is  that  into  civil  and  military,  and  in  the  latter 
the  fighting  is  always  accompanied  by  a  terrible  din 
of  brass,  drum  and  string  music.  This  frantic  noise 
stimulates  in  the  audience  the  excitement  which  the 
desperate  contest  in  arms  is  supposed  to  arouse.  As 
a  fact,  these  military  plays  are  very  popular  with  the 
masses,  and  they  take  up  fully  half  the  program. 

In  the  eating,  drinking,  smoking,  hawking,  towel- 
throwing,  spitting,  and  loud  interruptions  always 
found  in  the  Chinese  theater  we  have  another  close 
parallel  to  the  Elizabethan.  It  is  well  known  that 
hawkers  went  about  before  and  during  the  perform- 
ance selling  ale,  tobacco,  and  various  articles  of 
food.  Apples  were  fought  over  by  young  appren- 
tices and  sometimes  even  used  to  pelt  the  actors. 
The  women  in  the  galleries  were  offered  pipes  to 
smoke.  Young  nobles  insisted  on  sitting  on  the 
stage  in  order  that  they  might  display  themselves 
and  their  garments,  while  pages  lighted  their  pipes 
for  them.  The  groundlings  in  the  yard  were  intent 
on  the  broad  humor  and  the  fighting  in  the  plays. 
The  women  of  the  town  in  the  gallery  probably  also 
had  other  motives  for  coming  besides  that  of  seeing 
the  play.  All  of  this  a  Westerner  can  understand 
very  much  better  after  he  has  seen  a  Chinese  theater, 
for  the  conditions  are  very  similar ;  except  that  the 
Chinese  lack  of  pugnacity  makes  the  spectators  per- 
[204] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST    AND   WEST 

haps  a  little  less  violent.^  In  this  connection  it  is  in- 
teresting to  compare  the  methods  of  applause  and 
criticism  in  Shakespeare's  time  and  in  present-day 
China.  Applause  was  rendered  by  clapping  —  some 
writers  refer  to  it  as  "thundering"  —  while  dis- 
approval was  evinced  by  hissing,  and  by  even  more 
violent  methods,  as  may  be  judged  from  the  verse  of 
an  Elizabethan  drama: 

We  may  be  pelted  off  for  aught  we  know, 

With  apples,  egges,  or  stones,  from  thence  belowe. 

In  China  applause  is  expressed  by  shouting  the 
word  "  liao  ",  good,  and  disapproval  by  no  more  vio- 
lent method  generally  than  by  a  sarcastic  intonation 
of  the  same  word !  It  it  difficult  for  a  foreigner  to 
tell  which  is  meant,  especially  since  applause  is  ren- 
dered for  subtleties  of  intonation  often  lost  even  on 
natives.  However  there  is  also  the  word  "t'lmg", 
which  is  very  rarely  used  to  express  disgust  with 
the  performance;  but  when  it  is  employed  the 
actors  are  driven  off  the  stage  in  utter  shame  and 
confusion.  In  recent  years,  however,  clapping  has 
been  introduced  from  the  West  along  with  many 
other  innovations.  But  in  spite  of  all  distractions 
one  can  very  often  see  a  Chinese  audience  sitting 
spellbound  during  the  recitation  of  a  particularly 
beautiful  passage  or  the  presentation  of  a  tragic 
scene,  as  I  imagine  must  have  been  the  case  in 
Shakepearean  England  also. 

'  See  Taine's  description,  Book  II,  chapter  II,  in  his  "  History  of 
English  Literature." 

[205] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Without  the  aid  of  scenery  or  lighting  the  acting 
must  be  splendid  to  hold  an  audience,  and  there  is 
the  danger  that  it  become  loudly  declamatory  and 
bombastic.  Hamlet's  well-known  criticisms  fre- 
quently apply  in  Peking,  for  there  are  many  who 
mouth  their  lines  so  that  the  town  crier  could  im- 
prove upon  them,  who  saw  the  air  too  much  with 
their  hands,  who  tear  a  passion  to  tatters,  who  strut 
and  bellow  as  though  one  of  nature's  journeymen 
had  made  them,  and  thus  make  the  judicious  grieve. 
However,  good  actors  of  all  times  avoid  this.  Ham- 
let tells  of  a  good  actor  who 

Could  force  his  soul  to  this  conceit 

That  from  her  working  all  his  visage  wann'd ; 

Tears  in  his  eyes,  distraction  in 's  aspect, 

A  broken  voice,  and  his  whole  function  suiting 

With  form  to  his  conceit!  and  all  for  nothing! 

For  Hecuba! 

It  is  similarly  impressive  to  see  Mei  Lan-fang, 
for  example,  playing  Mu  Lan,  the  Chinese  Joan  of 
Arc,  presenting  in  the  first  part  the  coy  maiden  and 
loving  daughter,  and  in  the  second  the  brave  war- 
rior, or  to  see  him  (he  is  an  actor  who  always  in- 
terprets female  roles)  portray  the  emotions  of  the 
daughter  who  finds  her  old  father  in  prison  but  who 
dares  not  make  herself  known.  In  most  theaters  in 
Peking  the  acting  is  good,  so  that  the  foreigner  can 
often  follow  the  play,  even  though  he  does  not  under- 
stand one  word  of  what  the  actors  are  saying.  For 
vivid  portrayal  of  emotions,  facial  expression,  and 
[206] 


A   CLOWN 
Chinese  Character  Type 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 


Without  the  aid  of  scenery  or  lighting  the  acting 
must  '  r    hold  an  audience,  and  there  is 

the  dai  .i^.-i  '  ecome  loudly  declamatory  and 

bombastic,    i  -    well-known    criticisms    fre- 

quently apply  m  !  eking,  for  there  are  many  who 
mouth  their  lines  so  that  the  town  crier  could  im- 
prove upon  thetTi,  who  saw  the  air  too  much  with 
their  h-  ' '''^  '  ear  a  passion  to  tatters,  who  strut 
and  b<  uirh  one  of  nature's  journeymen 

had  made  tlicm.  ;  s  make  the  judicious  grieve. 

However.  >  of  all  times  avoid  this.   Ham- 

let tells  of  a  gijoc  ai.ic*r  who 


C 

TL;.;   .    . 
Tears  in 


ifre  wann'd; 
ect. 


W....  .    .... 

For  Hectiba ' 

It  is  similarly  it 
for  example,  pi;j\  r 
Arc,  Y 
loving  ..,L 
rior,  or  t' 
terprets  female  r 
daughter  whr 
da- 

Pe.._  

often  follow  tl, 


j:!i.:i. 


' '^ip  t    ,  .  -ec  .Set  Lan-fang, 
? ;  u  \jiXi,  -  Joan  of 

.iden  and 
:  Hve  war- 
.  always  in- 
ay  the  emotions  of  the 
ither  in  prison  but  who 
ijwn.    Ill  most  theaters  in 
■io  that  the  foreigner  can 
lough  he  does  not  under- 
stand one  word  of  what  the  actors  are  saying.    For 
vivid  portrayal  of  emotions,  facial  expression,  and 
[206] 


VIWOX>   A 


I 


^  iifilf  ilii  'Alfitlt^'.lij'J'iiti:iU' 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

delightful  byplay,  the  Chinese  actors  are  wonderful, 
just  as  the  scholars  conjecture  that  the  English 
players  must  have  been  in  Shakespeare's  day. 

The  Chinese  audiences  demand  the  fool,  the  acro- 
bat, and  the  dancer  quite  as  loudly  as  they  were 
demanded  by  the  groundling  in  Shakespeare's  time. 
The  Chinese  clown  is  very  good  at  improvising,  and 
provokes  the  same  criticism  that  Hamlet  made, 
"  And  let  those  that  play  your  clowns  speak  no  more 
than  is  set  down  for  them."  Giles  in  his  "  History 
of  Chinese  Literature"  writes  in  this  connection, 
"As  they  stand  in  the  classical  collections  or  the 
acting  editions,  Chinese  plays  are  as  unobjection- 
able* as  Chinese  poems  or  general  literature.  On 
the  stage,  however,  actors  are  allowed  great  license 
in  gagging,  and  the  direction  which  their  gag  takes 
is  chiefly  the  reason  which  keeps  respectable  women 
away  from  the  playhouse."  This  recalls  that  in 
Elizabethan  days  the  respectable  women  who  at- 
tended the  theater  wore  masks  or  made  judicious  use 
of  their  fans  to  hide  their  blushes.*  It  is  only  in  the 
last  few  years  that  the  better  class  of  women  have 
begun  to  attend  the  theater  in  Peking;  just  as  the 
mingling  of  the  sexes  in  the  theater  was  an  innova- 
tion in  the  early  seventeenth  century  in  England. 
In  Peking,  as  formerly  was  the  case  in  London,  the 
women  are  admitted  to  the  gallery  only. 

*  Page  261.  —  According  to  my  friend  Ferdinand  Lessing,  a  Ger- 
man sinologist,  Giles  has  here  made  a  mistake.  In  Lessing's  words, 
Chinese  plays  contain  "  faustdicke  Zoten." 

'  "  Shakespeare's  England,"  II,  308^. 

[207] 


\ 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

A  vital  similarity  between  the  two  theaters  is  the 
fact  that  women's  parts  are  played  by  men.  The 
reasons  in  both  cases  are  moral  or  Puritanical  mo- 
tives. The  similarity  in  this  case  is  accidental,  for 
it  was  only  about  George  Washington's  time  that 
women  were  forbidden  to  appear  upon  the  stage; 
during  the  Ming  Dynasty  many  princes  and  officials 
had  large  numbers  of  actresses  in  their  palaces  —  a 
custom  that  led  to  gross  abuses  and  immorality. 
Therefore  the  early  Manchu  emperors  forbade 
women  to  appear  as  actresses.  But  things  are  fast 
changing  in  this  respect  in  China,  for  in  some  parts 
of  the  country  men  and  women  appear  together  on 
the  stage,  while  in  Peking,  where  this  is  forbidden 
by  the  police,  there  exist  two  theaters  in  which 
women  act  both  male  and  female  roles.  The  Chinese 
consider  the  women  poor  artists,  and  the  connois- 
seurs do  not  patronize  these  theaters,  or  if  they  do 
they  apologize  for  it.  A  Chinese  actor  who  respects 
himself  will  never  appear  on  the  same  stage  with 
actresses.  That  the  Elizabethans  likewise  thought 
women  incapable  of  good  acting  can  be  seen  from 
the  patronizing  tone  of  Thomas  Coryat  in  which 
he  tells  (1611)  of  having  seen  women  acting  in 
Venice  "and  they  performed  it  with  as  good  a 
grace,  action,  gesture  and  whatsoever  convenient 
for  a  player,  as  ever  I  saw  any  masculine  actor."  * 

In  connection  with  the  subject  of  impersonation 

"  Quoted  from  "  Shakespeare's  England ",  II,  246.  See  also 
Thorndyke's  "  Shakespeare's  Theater  ",  page  372. 

[208] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

of  the  Other  sex,  which  we  see  nowadays  only  in 
burlesque  or  minstrel  shows,  I  should  like  to  quote 
some  observations  made  by  Goethe*  in  Italy  on  see- 
ing a  performance  of  Goldoni's  "La  Locandiera" 
in  which  a  man  acted  the  part  of  the  heroine,  the 
pretty  innkeeper.  Goethe  of  course  grants  that  the 
highest  form  of  art  cannot  be  found  in  such  a  rep- 
resentation, but  he  says  that  he  would  like  to  speak 
a  few  words  in  defense  of  this  practice  to  tell  how 
one  might  well  derive  considerable  pleasure  from 
such  a  performance.  He  states  that  he  went  to  the 
theater  with  prejudice,  but  once  there  he  became 
reconciled  to  it  and  even  experienced  a  certain  kind 
of  pleasure  never  felt  by  him  before.  He  tried  to 
analyze  this  aesthetic  sensation  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion it  consisted  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  fact  that 
the  actor  could  not  possibly  play  himself,  but  had  to 
put  his  art  of  imitation  to  a  far  greater  test,  that  of 
holding  the  mirror  up  to  life  in  a  sex  not  his  own. 
The  spectator  enjoys  a  much  more  self-conscious 
delusion,  just  as  when  he  sees  a  young  man  playing 
the  part  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  or  King  Lear.  There  is 
a  more  conscious  aesthetic  pleasure  in  seeing  how 
well  a  young  man  has  studied  the  actions  of  a  young 
girl  in  order  to  present  a  Rosalind,  or  how  perfectly 
Mei  Lan-fang  can  copy  the  dainty  dress,  actions,  and 
walk  of  a  Chinese  lady.  My  experience  has  been 
that  this  is  much  more  pleasant  than  to  see  round- 


*  Goethe,  "  Frauenrollen  auf  dem  romischen  Theater  von  Mannern 
gespieh." 


[209] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

cheeked  girls  essay  the  roles  of  fearful  generals  or 
cruel  husbands  in  the  woman's  theater  in  Peking. 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  as  a  result  of  the 
fact  that  boy  actors  played  the  women's  parts  in  the 
Elizabethan  theater  we  find  Shakespeare's  heroines 
very  frequently  masquerading  as  pages.  Julia, 
Portia,  Nerissa,  Jessica,  Viola,  Rosalind,  and  Imogen 
all  appear  as  handsome  youths.  An  analogous  re- 
sult in  the  Chinese  theater  of  to-day  is  that  the 
heroines  appear  in  an  endless  number  of  cases  as 
warriors.  The  Chinese  have  not  only  their  Mu  Lan 
(who  goes  to  war  in  her  father's  place  because  the 
latter  is  old  and  feeble),  but  very  many  other 
heroines  who  invariably  defeat  men  in  battle. 
Chinese  history  or  legend  does  not  account  for  this, 
but  it  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  actors  who  portray 
women  seek  opportunities  to  display  their  skill  in 
fighting.  This  fighting  is  a  highly  conventionalized 
art,  a  combination  of  dancing  and  acrobatics  per- 
formed to  a  deafening  and  exciting  music,  which,  in 
regard  to  its  place  on  the  program,  can  best  be  com- 
pared to  our  ballet.  Most  foreigners  in  Peking  are 
kept  away  from  the  theater  by  the  fearful  noise 
made  in  these  "  fighting  plays  ",  as  they  are  called, 
but  if  these  same  people  could  attend  an  Elizabethan 
theater  they  would  possibly  find  that  the  great  de- 
light of  the  audiences  was  the  "noise"  (music),  the 
clatter  and  scuffle  of  the  battles,  the  drums,  the 
squibs,  and  the  cannon.* 

'  "  Shakespeare's  England  ",  page  252^. 
[210] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

There  are  in  Peking  three  companies  of  boy 
actors,  the  largest  of  which  has  about  three  hundred 
in  its  theater.  These  are  training  schools  for  actors 
in  which  the  boys  of  eight  to  sixteen  or  eighteen 
years  are  given  very  arduous  courses  in  singing, 
acrobatics,  stage  fighting,  and  all  the  other  arts  that 
an  actor  requires.  The  competition  of  these  "  little 
eyases"  in  Peking  might  well  arouse  the  ire  of  some 
of  the  regular  actors,  as  it  did  Shakespeare's 
("Hamlet",  II,  2,  362),  for  in  China  the  life  of  the 
common  actor  is  a  hard  one,  most  of  them  eking  out 
a  meager  living  at  about  twenty  cents  a  day. 

The  position  of  the  actor  in  society  is  very  low  in 
Peking,  just  as  it  was  in  London.  A  Chinese  mor- 
alist might  well  apply  to  them  the  words  written  in 
1759:^  "Players  are  masters  of  vice,  teachers  of 
wantonnesse,  spurres  to  impuritie,  the  Sonnes  of 
idlenesse,  so  longe  as  they  live  in  this  order,  loathe 
them."  Under  the  former  dynasty  the  actors  and 
their  sons,  together  with  the  sons  of  prostitutes, 
jailers,  and  lictors,  were  not  eligible  for  taking  the 
examinations.  Even  now  they  usually  intermarry 
only  among  their  own  number,  and  they  suffer 
also  from  various  other  discriminations.  Most 
of  them  were  catamites,  until  the  Republic  abolished 
this  formerly  legalized  institution.  Mei  Lan-fang, 
an  actor  who  has  risen  to  high  perfection  in  his 
art,  as  well  as  to  great  wealth,  an  artist  who 
may  tour  America  in  the  near  future,  would  have 

'  "  Shakespeare's  England  ",  II,  241. 

[211] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

ample  reason  in  the  present  organization  of  Chinese 
society  to  reproach  Fortune  in  Shakespeare's  words : 

That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide, 

Than  public  means  which  public  manners  breeds, 

Thence  comes  it  that  my  name  receives  a  brand, 

And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 

To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand : 

Pity  me  then  and  wish  I  were  renewed. 

Peoples  are  alike  and  differ  also  in  what  they  con- 
sider to  be  humorous.  It  has  been  said  that  the  first 
comedy  was  the  torture  of  a  captive  by  his  enemies. 
This  sort  of  performance  would  nowadays  of  course 
be  impossible ;  yet  in  most  of  our  comedies  we  enjoy 
heartily  the  discomfiture  of  victims  of  circum- 
stances. We  have  not  yet  become  too  refined  to 
enjoy  the  difficulties  of  a  man  whose  senses  are  be- 
numbed by  alcohol,  of  a  bald  man,  a  lame  man,  yes, 
even  a  deaf  man.  The  condition  of  a  blind  man, 
however,  strikes  us  as  too  tragic  to  figure  in  a 
comedy,  and  no  modern  comedian  could  draw  a 
laugh  from  his  audience  by  fooling  a  tottering  old 
man  bereft  of  his  sight.  Yet  every  one  who  has  seen 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice"  acted  recalls  very  well 
what  Launcelot  Gobbo  does  to  his  blind  old  father, 
and  I  have  seen  in  Chinese  theaters  how  a  blind  old 
beggar  deceived  by  a  clown  affords  huge  amusement 
to  the  audience. 

As  I  have  already  stated,  Chinese  and  Elizabethan 
audiences  are  alike  also  in  that  they  use  their  im- 
aginations much  more  vividly  than  we  do.  For  them 
[212] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

a  draped  screen  represents  a  city  wall,  and  the  bare 
stage  any  country,  a  ship,  a  mountain,  any  house, 
a  street,  or  whatever  is  needed  in  the  particular 
scene  acted.  Warriors  on  horseback  in  the  Chinese 
theaters  carry  whips  to  let  the  audience  know  that 
they  are  mounted  on  chargers,  while  Macbeth  and 
Banquo  rode  on  the  stage  on  hobbyhorses  —  and 
were  taken  seriously.  I  recall  a  performance  in  the 
Chinese  City  in  which  there  suddenly  came  running 
on  the  stage  on  all  fours  a  man  in  a  tiger  skin,  and  I 
laughed  because  of  droll  recollections  of  Shaw's 
"  Androcles  and  the  Lion."  But  no  one  else  laughed ; 
to  the  Chinese  present  it  was  a  tiger,  just  as  real  a 
tiger  as  the  actors  on  the  stage  were  for  the  moment 
real  kings  and  queens,  soldiers  and  servants.  Of 
this  particular  illusion  more  anon. 

Because  there  are  many  similarities  in  the  thea- 
ters, stages,  actors,  conventions,  audiences,  and  the 
psychology  of  the  spectator  of  Shakespeare's  day 
and  of  present-day  Peking,  I  certainly  should  be  the 
last  to  say  that  because  a  thing  is  so  in  local  theaters, 
it  must  have  been  identical  in  London  three  hundred 
years  ago.  Yet  it  seems  that  since  human  nature  is 
very  much  the  same  everywhere,  it  would  be  safer, 
if  one  wished  to  hazard  conjectures  as  to  what  was 
true  in  the  past,  to  take  a  living  example  of  the  thea- 
ter on  the  same  level  of  culture,  than  to  look  back  at 
the  Elizabethan  stage  in  the  light  of  what  has  been 
accomplished  since,  and  what  happens  to  be  the  fad 
at  the  present  time.    This  is  the  day  of  stage  light- 

[213] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

ing  and  color  effects,  of  Gordon  Craig,  Max  Rein- 
hardt,  and  Bakst,  but  we  should  hardly  think  that 
these  problems  troubled  Burbage,  who  had  neither 
electric  light  nor  scenery,  and  who  performed  his 
plays  on  an  uncurtained  stage  by  daylight.  Yet 
Professor  H.  T.  Stephenson  of  Indiana  University, 
for  fifteen  years  a  lecturer  on  Shakespeare,  author 
of  "  Shakespeare's  London  ",  and  "  The  Elizabethan 
People  ",  by  profession  a  specialist  in  reconstructing 
the  times  of  "  Merrie  England",  discusses  seriously 
in  his  very  stimulating  "Study  of  Shakespeare" 
(page  40)  the  plight  of  the  stage  manager  of  Shake- 
pearean  days,  who  could  never  tell  beforehand  how 
the  gaily  dressed  young  nobles  sitting  on  the  stage 
would  fit  into  his  color  scheme!  He  also  believes 
that  changes  in  the  stage  setting  could  not  have  been 
made  in  full  sight  of  the  audience,  because  "this 
would  have  upset  entirely  the  unity  if  not  the  grav- 
ity of  the  piece." 

In  Peking  one  can  see  very  remarkable  things  on 
the  stage  that  fail  to  upset  the  gravity  of  any  present 
except  the  Westerners,  who  are  used  to  different 
conventions  in  the  theater.  Professor  Stephenson, 
with  the  results  of  three  hundred  years  of  stage  ex- 
perience at  his  hand,  believes  that  the  Elizabethans 
must  have  been  fools  if  they  could  not  have  thought 
of  the  same  useful  devices  for  the  theater  that  he 
knows  of.     To  quote  (page  47) : 

"To  my  mind  the  situation  suggested  by  these 
facts  reduces  itself  almost  to  a  mathematical  prob- 
[214] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

lem;  if  one  of  us  can  easily  invent  such  a  staging 
for  an  Elizabethan  scene,  as  any  ingenious  person 
could  construct  out  of  what  we  know  they  had  in 
those  days,  is  it  unfair  to  assume  that  the  ingenious 
Elizabethans  did  as  well  if  not  better?  More  likely 
better.  They  were  more  used  than  we  are  to  mak- 
ing a  little  go  a  great  way."  He  even  goes  on  to  ex- 
plain how  one  could  put  up  a  curtain,  simply  by  the 
use  of  canvas,  wire,  a  few  rings,  and  presto,  the 
thing  is  done.  A  play  without  the  commonplace 
scenic  devices  of  the  twentieth  century  is  unthink- 
able to  him. 

Another  theorist  is  Mr.  Corbin,  in  the  Century 
Magazine  for  December,  191 1.  He  proves  to  his 
own  satisfaction  that  Burbage  and  his  colleagues 
had  means  for  darkening  the  stage.*  It  seems  this  au- 
thor staged  "The  Winter's  Tale"  in  New  York  a  few 
years  ago.  In  this  play  a  bear  has  to  appear  on  the 
stage,  and  this  part  was  acted  by  a  man  on  all  fours. 
At  first  the  scene  was  played  on  a  lighted  stage,  and 
all  the  New  Yorkers  present  laughed  at  the  sight  of 
the  actor  in  a  bearskin.  Then  they  hit  upon  the  de- 
vice of  darkening  the  stage,  and  having  the  actor- 
bear  run  quickly  across.  When  this  was  done,  no 
one's  risibilities  were  affected.  This  forms  one  of 
Mr.  Corbin's  chief  arguments  for  his  assumption 
that  the  Elizabethan  stage  was  darkened;  namely, 

'  Thorndyke,  page  138,  refers  to  this  article,  but  takes  no  stock 
in  Mr.  Corbin's  arguments.  He  says  that  darkness  was  symbolized 
by  lighted  candles,  etc.,  which  is  precisely  the  thing  done  on  the 
Chinese  stage. 

[215] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

that  it  would  have  ofifended  the  good  taste  of  the 
audience  to  see  in  broad  daylight  in  a  serious  scene, 
an  actor  impersonating  a  bear.  If  human  nature 
can  endure  this  convention  in  Peking,  with  the 
above-mentioned  tiger,  why  should  we  assume  that 
three  hundred  years  ago  people  felt  as  we  do  now, 
and  base  on  this  the  novel  theory  that  stages  were 
darkened  in  those  days  ? 

A  large  measure  of  the  success  attained  by  "  The 
Yellow  Jacket "  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Chinese 
stage  conventions  employed  seemed  so  funny  to  us 
provincial  Westerners  that  they  caused  a  great  deal 
of  happy  laughter.  But  this  is  really  quite  as  intel- 
ligent as  the  attitude  of  the  rustic  who  sought  out 
Richard  III  after  the  performance  and  offered  to 
sell  him  a  good  horse  for  less  than  a  kingdom.  It  is 
very  strange  that  even  otherwise  scholarly  men, 
like,  for  example,  Victor  Albright  in  "The  Shake- 
spearean Stage",  struggle  with  all  fours  against 
the  possibility  that  in  the  theater  of  the  gentle  Shake- 
speare there  might  have  been  committed  such  dese- 
crations as  setting  properties  on  the  stage  in  full 
view  of  the  audience.  He  approaches  the  evidence 
with  blinkers  when  it  seems  to  contradict  his  theory. 
He  says  (page  126)  :  "Only  the  dramatists  had  not 
yet  learned  to  use  explicit  stage  directions."  On 
page  143  he  tells  us  that  the  Elizabethans  did  not 
read  stage  directions  literally.  Then  on  page  106: 
"  Here  in  the  midst  of  a  street  scene  is  a  direction  to 
set  the  stage  with  a  table,  stand,  chairs,  stools,  etc., 
[216] 


I 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND   WEST 

—  just  such  properties  as  are  used  in  the  next  scene, 
a  counting  room.  We  cannot  believe  that  a  man- 
ager would  disturb  an  important  scene  by  setting  the 
stage  for  a  coming  one."  Further,  on  page  no: 
"  The  placing  and  replacing  of  a  regular  setting  in 
full  view  of  the  audience  never  was  a  general  cus- 
tom.   It  is  contrary  to  the  very  nature  of  the  stage, 

—  an  illusive,  make-believe  world."  In  my  opinion 
it  is  contrary  only  to  the  very  nature  of  a  provincial 
New  Yorker. 

Let  me  add  in  passing  that  William  Archer  holds 
that  "  in  the  generality  of  cases  properties  were 
brought  on  in  full  sight  of  the  audience,  often  in  the 
middle  of  the  action."  * 

Doctor  Albright,  in  "  The  Shakespearean  Stage  " 
(pages  122 ff.)  condemns  with  sarcasm  (which 
seems  well  merited)  the  theory  of  Brodmeier,  who 
holds  that  the  entire  stage  in  Shakespeare's  theater 
was  curtained  from  view.  But  I  should  like  to  ques- 
tion whether  or  not  his  own  judgments  would  have 
been  quite  the  same  if  he  had  known  the  Chinese 
stage  before  he  wrote  his  estimable  thesis.  A 
Chinese  actor  walks  once  around  the  stage  in  full 
view  of  the  audience,  and  in  conformity  with  the 
ruling  conventions  he  has  traveled  miles,  or  hun- 
dreds of  miles,  as  the  plot  requires.  Doctor  Al- 
bright, arguing  backwards  from  the  Restoration 
staging,  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  in 
the  Elizabethan  theater  a  regular  changing  from 

*  "  Shakespeare's  England  ",  II,  301. 

[217] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

inner  to  outer  scenes,  and  vice  versa,  and  that  the 
few  pieces  of  furniture  which  constituted  the  stage 
setting  were  always  carefully  shut  off  from  the  view 
of  the  audience.  He  quotes  an  example  with  his 
comment  from  a  play  called  "  Pinner  of  Wakefield  ", 
Act  IV,  Scenes  3-4.  "  Jenkins  enters  a  shoemaker's 
shop,  and  dares  the  owner  to  meet  him  at  'the 
towne's  end.'  The  challenge  is  accepted,  and  after 
a  certain  amount  of  stage  business,  during  which 
the  curtains  must  have  been  closed  [italics  mine], 
Jenkins  says,  '  Now  we  are  at  the  towne's  end,  what 
say  you  now  ? ' "  However,  I  should  add  that  in  his 
concluding  paragraph  Doctor  Albright  is  by  no 
means  dogmatic,  but  gives  this  merely  as  his  theory, 
stating  that  there  is  absolutely  no  way  of  proving  it. 
With  all  the  striking  similarities  in  the  Shake- 
spearean and  the  Chinese  theater  there  are  of  course 
also  vast  differences,  especially  in  the  background 
of  the  two.  So  far  as  I  know  there  has  never  ex- 
isted in  China  a  manner  of  staging  which  could  in 
any  way  be  compared  to  the  medieval  system  of 
mansions.  Likewise  the  evolution  of  the  platform 
stage  into  the  picture-frame  stage  of  the  present  day 
makes  it  seem  that  even  on  the  projecting  stage  the 
feeling  for  the  need  of  the  curtain  for  the  sake  of 
the  illusion  increased  as  time  went  on.  I  repeat  that 
I  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  arguing  from 
certain  conventions  on  the  Chinese  stage  that  they 
must  have  been  identical  in  Elizabethan  times.  My 
point  is  simply  that  scholars  ought  not  to  assert  that 
[218] 


ANALOGIES  —  EAST   AND    WEST 

certain  primitive  conventions  are  "against  the  na- 
ture of  the  stage"  or  "contrary  to  human  nature", 
for  this  point  of  view  is  based  on  the  current  con- 
ventions with  which  the  particular  writer  is  ac- 
quainted. I  should  like  to  quote  the  concluding 
words  of  Doctor  Albright's  thesis,  spoken  out  of  the 
depth  of  his  experience  of  wrestling  for  years  with 
the  problems  we  are  discussing.  He  calls  an  article 
by  William  Archer  "one  of  the  most  original  and 
enlightening  articles  on  the  Shakespearean  stage 
that  has  yet  appeared."  He  says  further  about  this 
writer,  "  As  a  learned  dramatic  critic  of  to-day,  he 
approaches  the  Elizabethan  stage  with  that  special 
insight  and  ability  which  a  closet  student  cannot 
hope  to  have.  The  stage  and  the  staging  have 
changed  since  the  days  of  Shakespeare,  but  the 
mimic  world  is  still  the  mimic  world;  and  the  deeper 
the  scholar  is  grounded  in  the  stage  of  to-day,  the 
better  he  is  qualified  to  study  the  stage  of  yesterday." 
And,  allow  me  to  add,  the  knowledge  of  a  living 
stage  at  a  similar  period  of  culture  will  likewise 
add  to  his  qualifications  to  study  the  theater  of 
the  past. 


[219] 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 


B.C. 

2705-2595 
2357-2206 

255-206 

206  B.C.  to 
221  A.D. 

A.D. 
221-265 

618-906 


960-1127 
I 280-1 368 

I 368-1 644 
1644-I9II 

I9I2- 


Huang  Ti,  mythological  emperor. 

Legendary  sages  to  whose  teachings  Con- 
fucius harked  back. 

Birth  of  Confucius. 

Ch'in  Shih  Huang  Ti,  the  emf>eror  who 
burned  the  books  and  built  the  Great  Wall. 

Han  Dynasty  —  Recovery  of  literature  — 
Introduction  of  Buddhism. 

The  "  Three  Kingdoms  "  —  Age  of  romantic 
chivalry. 

The  T'ang  Dynasty — Emperor  Ming  Huang, 
traditional  founder  of  the  theater,  and  his 
consort  Yang  Kuei-fei,  China's  most  fa- 
mous beauty.  China  was  at  this  time  the 
most  civilized  country  in  the  world.  Li 
Po  and  other  great  lyric  poets. 

The  Sung  Dynasty  —  Development  of  land- 
scape painting. 

The  Yuan  or  Mongol  Dynasty  —  Classical 
age  of  Chinese  drama.  Genghis  Khan  and 
Kublai  Khan.    Marco  Polo. 

The  Ming  Dynasty — Restoration  of  Chinese 
rulers  —  Drama  in  the  hands  of  scholars. 

The  Ch'ing  or  Manchu  Dynasty — Emperors 
K'ang  Hsi  and  Ch'ien  Lung  encourage  arts 
and  letters,  including  the  theater. 

The  Republic. 

[221] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

History  of  the  Drama  under  the  Sung  and  Yuan  Dynas- 
ties.   Wang  Kuo-wei.    Commercial  Press.    Shanghai, 

1915- 

Not  translated  into  any  European  language. 

Theatre  Chinois,  ou  Choix  de  Pieces  de  Theatre  Com- 

posees  sous  les  Empereurs  Mongols.     Bazin  Aine. 

Paris,  1838. 

Four  Yuan  Dynasty  plays  translated  by  a  French  sinologue 
who  was  for  years  Professor  of  Qiinese  at  the  Ecole  des 
Langues  Orientalcs. 

Chine  Moderne,  ou  Description  Historique,  Geograph- 

ique,  et  Litteraire  de  ce  vaste  Einpire,  d'apres  des 

Documents  Chinois.    Paris,  1853. 

In  the  second  part  of  this  volume  M.  Bazin  gives  numerous 
discussions  of  Chinese  plays  with  summaries  of  their  plots. 
Very  valuable  work. 

Le  Pi-Pa-Ki,  ou  L'Histoire  du  Luth.    Traduit  sur  le  texte 

original  par  M.  Bazin  Aine.    Paris,  1841. 

Contains  also  a  very  good  introduction  to  this  important 
Ming  drama. 

L'Orphelin  de  la  Chine.  Drame  en  prose  et  en  vers, 
accompagne  des  pieces  historiques  qui  en  ont 
fourni  le  sujet,  de  nouvelles  et  de  poesies  chinoises 
traduit  de  chinois  par  Stanislas  Julien.  Paris, 
1834. 

[223] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

A  complete  translation  by  the  famous  French  sinologue  of 
the  Yuan  drama,  The  Orphan  of  the  Chao  Family.  Voltaire 
made  an  abridged  version  by  a  Jesuit  missionary  the  basis  of 
his  L'Orphelin  de  la  Chine  (i75S),  a  stiff  and  artificial  piece, 
presenting  a  Genghis  Khan  who  falls  in  love  in  the  manner  of 
a  French  courtier  of  the  i8th  century. 

L'Histoire  du  Cercle  de  Craie.    Traduit  du  chinois  par 
Stanislas  Julien.    London,  1832. 
Translation  of  a  Yuan  drama. 

The  Sorrows  of  Han.    Translated  by  John  Francis  Davis, 

F.R.S.    London,  1829. 

A  Yuan  drama  translated  by  a  British  sinologue ;  The  For- 
tunate Union,  a  Chinese  romance,  appears  in  the  same  volume. 

Le  Chagrin  dans  le  Palais  de  Han.    Louis  Laloy.    Public 
par  la  Societe  litteraire  de  France.    Paris,  1921. 

M.  Laloy's  version  of  this  Yuan  drama  attempts  to  intro- 
duce some  modern  motivation.  In  his  preface  the  author  ex- 
presses the  fear  that  in  working  over  this  Chinese  tragedy 
"  j7  I'a  defiguree  en  tachant  de  I'embellir ",  and  perhaps  his 
fears  were  justified. 

La  Chine  Familiere  et  Galante.   Jules  Arene.   Paris,  1876. 

In  this  volume  by  a  French  consul  "  qui  contient  des  de- 
tails fort  curieux  et  interessants  sur  les  chinois,  et  surtout 
sur  les  chinoises  "  are  printed  translations  of  four  realistic 
comedies  of  popular  life,  "  sorte  de  vaudeville  au  gros  sel, 
ou,  en  gestes  comtne  en  paroles,  la  license  chinoise  se  donne 
litre  carriire."  About  ninety  pages  are  devoted  to  the 
theater. 

The    Chinese    Drama.    William    Stanton.     Kelly    and 

Walsh.    Hongkong,  1899. 

A  British  colonial  official  has  translated  three  plays,  The 
Willow  Lute,  The  Golden-leafed  Chrysanthemum,  and  The 
Sacrifice  for  the  Soul  of  Ho  Man  Sau.  In  an  introduction 
of  eighteen  pages  the  author  discusses  the  types  and  conven- 
tions of  the  Chinese  stage  as  seen  in  Hongkong  and  Canton. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  in  general  the  southern  theater 
is  identical  with  that  of  Peking,  but  that  there  are  some  varia- 
tions, particularly  in  customs  and  ceremonials. 

Catching  a  Golden  Tortoise. 
[224] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Beating  the  Gold  Bough. 

Two  Chinese  plays  translated  by  Charles  Budd,  Tung  Wen 
Kuan  Translation  Office,  Shanghai,  191 3.  Short  and  mildly 
interesting  plays,  translated  partly  for  the  purpose  of  aiding 
Chinese  who  wish  to  learn  English. 

Chinesische  Schattenspiele.  Ubersetzt  von  Wilhelm 
Grube,  herausgegeben  und  eingeleitet  von  Berthold 
Laufer,  Verlag  der  koniglich  bayerischen  Akademie 
der  Wissenschaften.    Miinchen,  1915. 

A  huge  volume  containing  in  translation  the  entire  reper- 
toire of  a  company  of  shadow  players  which  Berthold  Laufer, 
Curator  of  the  Field  Museum,  had  bought  in  Peking  in  1901 
and  which  were  translated  by  the  famous  German  sinologue. 
Though  these  plays  are  not  presented  on  the  stage,  but  recited 
by  shadow  players  to  accompany  the  movements  of  their 
puppets  that  cast  shadows  on  a  screen,  yet  the  plots  are  the 
same  as  those  of  the  theater.  The  book  thus  serves  as  a 
wonderful  source  for  some  one  wishing  to  familiarize  him- 
self with  Chinese  plays.  Berthold  Laufer  has  prefaced  the 
book  with  a  meaty  introduction. 

Pekinger  Volksleben.    Wilhelm  Grube.    Berlin,   1901. 

Sociological  studies  on  popular  customs  and  usages  in  Pe- 
king. A  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  theater  in  which  numerous 
summaries  of  modern  plays  are  given.  The  author  also  deals 
with  related  subjects :  acrobats,  story-tellers,  annual  cere- 
monies of  guilds,  etc. 

Geschichte  der  chinesischen  Litteratur.    Wilhelm  Grube. 

Leipzig,  1909. 

Several  chapters  are  devoted  to  the  drama.  Professor 
Grube,  in  his  discussion  of  Yuan  and  Ming  plays,  is  using 
Bazin's  translations,  but  in  his  evaluation  of  modern  plays  he 
is  drawing  on  his  long  and  intimate  experience  with  the 
theater  in  Peking. 

A  History  of  Chinese  literature.  Herbert  A.  Giles. 
Heinemann,  London. 

This  well-known  sinologue  devotes  two  chapters  to  the 
drama,  but  they  are  not  up  to  the  standard  of  the  rest  of  this 
excellent  work.  Pi-Pa-Chi  is  the  most  modern  drama  he 
discusses. 

[225] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

Das   Theater  und    Drama   der   Chinesen.    Rudolf   von 
Gottschall.    Breslau,  1887. 

This  small  volume  of  209  pages  was  written  by  a  minor 
German  dramatist  without  first-hand  knowledge  of  China. 
The  author  based  his  study  upon  French  translations  of  older 
dramas.  Yet  the  book  is  not  lacking  in  remarks  showing  a 
keen  insight  into  the  Chinese  character. 

La  Litterature  Chinoise  Contemporaine.    Soong  Tsung 

Faung,  Journal  de  Pekin.    Peking,  1919. 

A  volume  by  a  professor  of  literature  at  the  National  Uni- 
versity, Peking,  in  which  his  critical  articles  from  Peking's 
French  paper  are  reprinted.  Forty-seven  pages  are  devoted  to 
the  theater  under  headings  such  as  the  following :  "  Origin  of 
the  Drama  ",  "  Evolution  of  the  Modern  Chinese  Theater  ", 
"  Ibsenism  in  China ",  etc.  Professor  Soong  follows  to  a 
certain  extent  Wang  Kuo-wei's  History  of  the  Drama  under 
the  Sung  and  Ming  Dynasties.  His  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  European  stage  enables  him  to  make  very  striking  com- 
parisons. 

Peking,  A  Social  Survey.    Sidney  Gamble  and  Stewart  J. 

Burgess.    Doran,  192 1. 

The  chapter  "  Recreations  "  in  this  interesting  and  pains- 
taking survey  presents  statistics  on  the  number  of  theaters, 
their  locations,  prices  of  admission,  status  of  the  actor  and 
actress,  etc. 

En   Chine,   Mceurs   et   Institutions,    Hommes   et   Faits. 
Maurice  Courant.    Paris,  1901. 

The  French  diplomat  devotes  one  chapter  to  the  theater. 
He  writes  before  the  Revolution,  but  most  things  connected 
with  the  theater  have  been  changed  very  little.  He  reports 
one  abuse,  however,  which  the  Revolution  (1912)  abolished. 
Page  144:  "La  prostitution  feminine  restc  discrite,  car  la 
femme  est  tou jours  tenue  a  I'ecart;  mats  la  prostitution  mas- 
culine s'etale  au  grand  jour;  il  n'est  guere  de  partie  de 
theatre  oii  I'amphitryon  ne  reunisse  ses  amis  d'abord  au 
restaurant  et  ne  convie  quclques  jeunes  garfons  de  bonne 
mine,  richement  habilles,  sachant  causer  et  '  rendre  le  vin  plus 
agreable ' ;  ils  plaisantent  et  rient  avec  les  convives,  les  accom- 
pagnent  au  theater  et  restent  avec  eux  jusqu'i  ce  que,  la  fete 
finie,  chacun  rentre  chez  sot.  Naturellement,  aux  simples 
lettres  on  ne  demande  que  leur  bonne  humeur,  et  ce  sont  les 

[226] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

riches  qui  paient  la  note;  bien  de  fits  de  famille  se  ruinent  de 
cette  faQon." 

The  Yellow  Jacket.  A  Chinese  play  done  in  the  Chinese 
manner,  in  three  acts,  by  George  C.  Hazelton  and 
Benrimo.    Bobbs-Merrill,  19 13. 

This  play  represents  a  unique  example  of  Chinese  influence 
producing  a  worth-while  drama  on  our  stage.  Will  Irwin 
was  kind  enough  to  write  to  me  concerning  its  origin : 

"...  I  can  tell  you  the  history  of  the  play.  Harry  Ben- 
rimo, actor  and  stage-director,  is  a  native  of  San  Francisco. 
He  saw  much  of  the  Chinese  in  California.  His  father  was  a 
contractor,  employing  Chinese  labor  and  doing  business  with 
Chinese  merchants.  As  a  young  actor,  Benrimo  became  in- 
terested in  the  Chinese  theaters  of  San  Francisco.  That  was 
the  golden  age  of  the  Chinese  theater  in  America.  The  price 
of  admission  made  the  Jackson  Street  Company  and  the 
Washington  Street  Company  rich  on  Chinese  standards  and 
they  were  able  to  get  some  great  actors  —  just  as  the  money 
from  the  Metropolitan  Opera  drew  Caruso  from  Italy.  Ah 
Chic,  leading  tragedian  of  the  Jackson  Street  Company,  was 
as  great  an  actor  as  I  ever  saw.  .  .  .  Benrimo  sketched  out  a 
scenario  made  not  from  any  one  Chinese  play,  but  from  a 
dozen  —  situations  or  bits  of  business  or  dialogue  which  he 
remembered  from  his  old  days  in  San  Francisco  theaters. 
Benrimo  called  into  collaboration  the  late  George  Hazelton, 
playwright.  On  this  scenario  they  worked  out  The  Yellow 
Jacket.  .  .  .  Several  Chinese,  notably  one  man  —  name  for- 
gotten —  from  the  Consulate  helped  with  the  rehearsa's. 
Deliberately  the  authors  took  certain  liberties  with  Chinese 
drama  and  psychology  in  order  to  make  the  play  effective  for 
an  Occidental  audience.  Notably,  they  made  the  love  of  man 
for  woman  the  main  theme.  One  piece  of  business,  I  remem- 
ber, caused  endless  dispute.  It  is  where  the  happy  and  united 
lovers  kiss.  That  would  not  happen,  of  course,  with  the 
Chinese.  Benrimo  understood  that  perfectly.  But  he  said 
that  an  Occidental  audience  would  expect  it.  And  he  had  his 
way.  I  remember  that  whenever  this  piece  of  business  oc- 
curred in  the  rehearsals,  the  man  from  the  Consulate  used  to 
giggle. 

"  Lately  I  was  talking  over  The  Yellow  Jacket  with  Percy 
Hammond,  dramatic  critic.  '  Do  you  know  what  made  it  a 
success  ? '  he  said,  '  The  Property  Man  as  played  by  Shaw.' 
Possibly  he's  right  about  that.  But  the  play  served  its 
artistic  purpose.  It  made  American  audiences  understand 
something  of  this  extraordinary  art.    And  I  've  no  doubt  but 

[227] 


THE    CHINESE    THEATER 

that  if  Hazelton  and  Benrimo  had  stuck  close  to  the  originals 
our  audiences  would  n't  have  understood  half  so  well." 

So  far  as  my  experience  goes,  making  love  the  main  theme 
is  not  un-Chinese,  but  The  Property  Man  as  played  on  our 
stages  is.  Possibly  Cantonese  usage  differs  in  this  respect, 
but  in  Peking  property  men  are  always  on  the  stage,  coolies 
dressed  in  shabby  blue  cotton,  but  they  are  conspicuous  only 
to  the  Westerner  not  used  to  Chinese  conventions.  They  by 
no  means  have  the  importance  attached  to  them  in  The  Yellow 
Jacket.    Compare  the  chapter,  "  External  Aspects." 

The  Chinese  Drama.    R.  F.  Johnston.    Kelly  &  Walsh, 
192 1. 

A  slender  volume  that  came  to  be  written  because  the  pub- 
lishing firm  had  four  paintings  of  Chinese  actors  which  they 
wanted  to  issue  in  calendar  form  with  a  few  words  of  com- 
ment from  the  well-known  sinologue.  Mr.  Johnston  became 
absorbed  in  the  subject  and  wrote  so  much  and  so  interest- 
ingly on  it  that  Kelly  &  Walsh  decided  to  make  a  book  out 
of  it.    The  text  is  much  better  than  the  pictures. 

Le  Theatre  Chinois.    Chu  Chia-chien.    Paris,  1922. 

The  chief  features  of  this  book  are  the  excellent  paintings 
and  sketches  made  in  Peking  theaters  by  the  Russian  artist, 
Alexandre  Jacovleff.  An  English  edition  has  been  published 
by  Putnam.  No  other  book  can  give  such  a  vivid  notion  of 
the  real  appearance  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  the  Chinese  stage 
as  this  volume  of  inspired  drawings.  M.  Chu  Chia-chien, 
instructor  in  the  Ecole  des  Langues  Orientales  in  Paris,  writes 
well,  but  too  briefly,  on  the  conditions  and  conventions  of  the 
Chinese  stage. 

Chinesische   Literatur.     Eduard   Erkes.     Hirt,    Breslau, 
1924. 

A  brief,  but  up-to-the-minute  sketch  of  Chinese  literature. 
This  volume  by  a  University  of  Leipzig  Privatdozent  is  one 
of  a  series  on  the  literatures  of  various  nations.  The  book 
came  to  me  too  late  to  include  what  it  said  on  the  origin  of 
the  theater  in  China  in  the  text,  and  therefore  I  shall  quote 
an  interesting  paragraph  here.  (The  author  speaks  of  the 
Pear  Garden  origin  as  a  myth  and  says  that  the  Chinese  had 
a  theater  as  early  as  other  nations)  : 

"  Es  hat  sich  aus  den  bet  festlichen  Gelegenheiten  aller  Art, 
bei  Krieg  und  Jagd,  bet  Opfer  und  Gclagc,  inssenierten  Tdnsen 
entvnckelt,  in  dcnen  man  vorher  im  Spiel  darstellte,  was  sich 
nachhcr  zutragen  sollte,  um  so  auf  magische  Weise  das  Ge- 

[228] 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Schick  giinstig  su  Icnkcn,  und  nachhcr  seiner  Frcude  mimischen 
Ausdruck  verlieh.  Zu  diesen  Tdnscn  sang  man  Wechscl- 
gcsdngc  tnit  Rede  und  Gcgenrede,  wie  solche  uns  anscheinend 
aus  mehrercn  Liedem  des  Schi-king  erhalicn  sind,  so  dass 
das  China  dcr  Urzeit  auch  hierin  das  Leben  anderer  primitiver 
Volker  gefiihrt  hat.  Aus  Siidchina  sind  uns  Texte  solchcr 
Dramcn  religioscn  Charakters,  wic  sic  auch  K'iih  Yiian  int 
driitcn  Jahrhundert  vor  Christo  bearbeitete,  mchrfach  tiber- 
liefert,  und  bereits  aus  dem  Jahre  S45  ''■'■  Chr.  haben  wir  eine 
Noti:  nach  der  bei  Tcmpelfesien,  ganz  dhnlich  wie  int  alien 
Hellas,  nach  den  ernsten  Schaustellungen  cine  Burleske  von 
den  Stallknechten  auf gefiihrt  ztntrde.  Das  seigt  also,  dasz  die 
dramatische  Kunst  der  Tang-Zeit  nicht  einen  Anfang,  son- 
dcrn  nur  eine  spijte  Elappe  auf  einem  langcn  Wege  bedeutet. 
Auch  die  Han-Zcit  hatte  ihrc  Singspicle,  die  bereits  tnit 
einem  umfangreichcn  szenischcn  Apparat  aufgefuhrt  wurden 
und  vielleicht  komptisiertere  Biihneneinrichtungen  voraus- 
setzen  lassen,  als  sie  das  hcutzutage  an  Einfachheit  unserer 
modernstcn  Schaubiihnc  ehcnbiirlige  —  vielleicht  fur  sie  vor- 
bildlich  geu'ordenef  —  chinesische  Theater  jetzt  bietet." 
Pages  58-59. 

Altchinesische   Liebeskomodien,   aus   dem    chinesischen 

Urtexte  ausgewahlt  und  ubertragen  von  Hans  Rudels- 

berger.    Kunstverlag  von  Anton  Schroll  &  Co.  Wien, 

1923- 

Free  translations  of  five  comedies  of  love  (among  them  two 
comedies  discussed  in  this  book  on  pages  33  and  96).  The 
work  is  a  splendid  specimen  of  book-making  with  five  colored 
illustrations  by  the  Chinese  artist  Hua  Mei-chai  and  numerous 
woodcuts  from  the  original  Chinese  editions. 

Journal  of  the  North  China  Branch  of  the  Royal  Asiatic 
Society. 

This  very  interesting  journal,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  examine  the  files,  contains  only  two  articles  on  the  theater : 
Volume  XX,  "  Chinese  Theatricals ",  and  Volume  XXI, 
"  Histrionic  Notes."    Neither  is  very  important. 

This  bibliography  is  by  no  means  exhaustive.  There 
are  a  great  many  articles  not  mentioned  here,  but  they  are 
generally  not  very  instructive.  In  most  cases  they  are 
written  by  travelers  who  note  the  obvious  things  about 
the  Chinese  theater.  Naturally  there  is  also  a  great  deal 
of  repetition  in  these  writings. 

[229] 


INDEX 

[The  names  of  Chinese  dramas  are  printed  in  italics] 


Albright,  Victor,  201,  216,  217, 

218 
Amateurs,  109 
Archer,  William,  217,  219 
Autumn  in  the  House  of  Han. 

See  Sorrows  of  Han 

Bakst,  Leon,  214 
Bazin,  A.  P.  L.,  4 
Beating  the  Heartless  Husband,  90 
Beating   the  Nephew   and   Wor- 
shiping at  the  Grave,  87 
Bloodstained  Fan,  The,  70 
Brodmeier,  Professor,  217 
Burying  the  Flowers,  80,  179 
Butchering  the  Pig,  168 

Chalk  Circle,  The,  32 

Ch'ang  An,  3,  15,  48,  50,  74 

Chang  Chien,  Mr.,  113 

Ch'ang-0's  Flight  to  the  Moon, 
104/.,  159 

Ch'ang-OPinYUeh.  SeeCn'XNG- 
O's  Flight  to  the  Moon 

Ch'ang  Shan  Tien.  See  Palace 
OF  Eternal  Life 

Chang  Yao-shang,  actor,  15 

Chang  Ziang-ling,  142 

Chao  Chia  Ku-er.  See  Orphan 
OF  THE  Chao  Family 

Chao  Mei  Hsiang.  See  In- 
trigues OF  a  Lady's  Maid 

Chao  Tsung,  Emperor,  15 


Character  Types,  25,   112,   149, 

151,  152,  153,  17s 
Chen  Kuang  Theater,  181 
Ch'i    San    Hui.      See    Three 

Strange  Meetings 
Ch'ien  Lung,  Emperor,  69 
Ch'ing  Shang  Lao  Shileh.     See 
Slave  Girl  Plays  Tricks  on 
THE  Old  Schoolmaster 
Ch'ing  Shih  Shan,  194 
Cku  Fang  Tsao.    See  Butcher- 
ing the  Pig 
Chu  Sha  ChU.     See  Cinnabar 

Spot,  A 
Chu  Su-yiin,  actor,  83,  86 
Chit  T'eng  Kuan  Hua.  See 
Trial  of  Strength  and  View- 
ing the  Ancestral  Portraits 
Chu  Yuan-chang.  See  Hung  Wu 
Ch'un  Yin  Hui.    See  Meeting 

of  Many  Heroes 
Cinnabar  Spot,  A ,  88 
Civil  Plays,  10,  146 
Classical  Language.   See  Wen  Li 
Clowns,  23,   25,   153,   207.     Cf. 

Court  Fools 
Commedia  dell'  Arte,  16 
Confucius,  10,  17,  25,  28,  49 
Corbin,  John,  215 
Corryat,  Thomas,  208 
Court  Fool,  Yu  Meng,  12 
Yu  Szu,  12 

[231] 


INDEX 


Court  Fools,  II,  12,  15,  16.    CJ. 

Clowns 
Craig,  Gordon,  214 
Crossing  the  Milky  Way,  159,  194 

Dances,  Dramatic,  6 

Dottore.    See  Commedia  dell' 

Arte 
Dream  of  the  Red  Chamber,  The, 

80,  93,  188 
Drunkard,  13 
Duke  Lan  Lu,  13 
Dwarfs,    11,    13.      CJ.    Court 

Fools 

Elizabethan  Theater,  25,  133, 

194/- 
Empress  Dowager,  188 

Fan  Kuai,  15 

Feng  Yu-hsiang,  General,  195 

Fools,  Court.    See  Court  Fools 

Gamble,  Sidney,  133,  144 
Giles,  Herbert,  18,  59,  80,  180, 

io7 
Goodrich,  Mrs.,  104 
Greatest  Event  in  Life,  The,  iigff- 
Greek  Theater,  10,  192^. 
Grube,  Wilhebn,  80 

Han  Hsi-ch'ang,  actor,  140 
Han  Kung  Tsu.    See  Sorrows 

OF  Han 
Han  Lin  Academy,  4,  43 
Harlequin.   See  Commedia  dell' 

Arte 
Ho  Lan-chi.   See  Chalk  Circle, 

The 
Ho  Lang  Tan.  See  Singing  Girl, 

The 
Ho  Yi,  Emperor,  105 
Hsi  Hsiang  Chi.    See  Western 

Chamber,  The 

[232] 


Hsien,  7,  11 

HsU  Mu  Ma  Tsao.    See  HsC's 

Mother  Curses  Tsao  Tsao 
HsU's  Mother  Curses  Tsao  Tsao, 

81 
Hu  Shih,  II,  21,  22,  74,  78,  117, 

198 
Hung  Lou  Meng.   See  Dream  op 

THE  Red  Chamber,  The 
Hung  Sen,  author,  70 
Hung  Wu,  Emperor,  43 

Intrigue  of  a  Lady's  Maid,  26 
I-Yin,  7 

Jade  Palace,  3 
Jen  Tsung,  Emperor,  43 
Jesters.    See  Court  Fools 
JungTu-shan,  113,  1x5 

K'an  Tsie\  Wu.     See  Miser, 

The 
K'ang  Hsi,  Emperor,  69,  182 
Kuan  Han-ching,  dramatist,  23 
Kuan  Yin,  99 
Kublai  Khan,  19 
Kung  Chuan  Chi.    See  Ruse  of 

the  Empty  CiTy 
Kung  Shang-jen,  author,  70 

Lao  Tze,  28 

Laufer,  Berthold,  10,  11,  99 

Lessing,  Ferdinand,  207 

Li  Fang-yun,  137 

Li  Shou-shan,  actor,  83 

Li  Yuan  Tzu-ti,  3 

Liao  Chai.   See  Strange  Stories 

FROM  A  Chinese  Studio 
Literary  Language.    See  Wen  Li 
Liu  Ming-ju,  135 
Liu  Yen  Ming,  96 

Marco  Polo,  23,  41 
Mask,  The,  13,  14 


INDEX 


Meeting  of  Many  Heroes,  The,  82 

Mei  Lan-fang,  Chapter  VIII; 
80,  83,  84,  86,  98, 104,  los,  no, 
118,  138,  142,  143,  145,  150. 
151,  152,  iSS.  157,  IS9,  2C56, 
211 

Mencius,  17,  28 

Military  Plays,  10,  13,  77,  79, 
146 

Ming  Huang  (Yuen  Tsung),  Em- 
peror, 3,  70,  135,  181 

Miser,  The,  35/. 

Mu  Lan,  185,  201,  212 

Music,  Typ)es  of ,  142,  147,  191^. 

Musical  Instruments,  148^.,  192 

New  Mayor,  Tbe,  115 

New  World,  132,  143 

Ngoh  Chia  Chuan.     See  Ngoh 

Family  Village 
Ngoh  Family  Village,  87 

Orphan  of  the  Chao  Family, 
The,  37,  94 

PaI  HUA,  21,   22 
Palace  of  Eternal  Life,  4,  70 
Pang  Ta  Pao  Ching  Lang.    See 
Beating  the  Heartless  Hus- 
band 
Pantalone.   See  Commedia  dell' 

Arte 
Pantomimes,  6 
Pavilion  oj  the  Royal  Monument, 

184 
Pear  Garden,  3,  18,  135 
Pi  Pa  Chi.  See  Story  of  a  Lute 
P'iao  Yu.    See  Amateurs 
Plays,  Types  of,  146 Jf.,  197 
Po  She  Chuan.    See  White  and 

Black  Snakes,  The 
Porter,  Lucius,  11,  14 
Precious  Hairpin,  The,  93 


Reinhardt,  Max,  214 
Ridgeway,  Professor  William,  9, 

10 
Ruse  of  the  Empty  City,  The,  80 
Ruse  of  the  Nail,  The,  157 

San  Kuo  Chi.  See  Three  King- 
doms, The 
San    Yao   Hui.     See   Shaking 

Dice 
Scapino.    See  Commedia  dell' 

Arte 
Seasonal  Plays,  104^.,  159,  194 
Seeing  the  A  ncestral  Portraits.  See 

Trial  of  Strength 
Shaking  Dice,  98 
Sha  Tze  Pao.    See  Slaying  the 

Son 
Shang  Ting  Chi.    See  Ruse  of 

the  Nail 
Shih  Hu.    See  Hu  Shih 
Shih  Wang-ti,  Emperor,  12 
Shui  Hu  Chuan.    See  Story  of 

A  River  Bank 
Singing  Girl,  The,  29 
Slave  Girl  Plays  Tricks  on  the 

Old  Schoolmaster,  The,  183 
Slaying  of  the  Son,  158 
Smith,  Doctor  Arthur  H.,  66,  68 
Snow  in  June.    See  Sufferings 

OF  Tou-E 
Soong  Tsung-faung,  author,  12, 

117,  118 
Sophists.    See  Court  Fools 
Sorrowful  Korean,  The,  114 
Sorrows  of  Han,  37 
Spring  Willow  Dramatic  Society, 

112 
Ssu    Pao-pi.      See    Drunkard, 

The 
Stael  Holstein,  Baron  de,  179 
Stanton,  William,  4,  159 
Stent,  George  Carter,  71 

[233] 


INDEX 


Stephenson,  Professor  H.  T.,  214, 

Story  of  a  Lute.   See  Chapter  III 
Story  of  the  River  Bank,  79 
Strange  Stories  from  a  Chinese 

Studio,  80 
Suen  Lo  Ngao,  12 
Sufferings  of  Tou-E,  23,  39,  142 

Ta  Chib  Shang  Wen.  See  Beat- 
ing THE  Nephew 

Ta  Yin  Ho.  See  Crossing  the 
Milky  Way 

Tai  Yu  Chuan  Hua.  See  Bury- 
ing THE  Flowers 

Taine,    H.,  205 

T'an  Shen-pei,  actor,  149,  188 

T'an  Shiao-shan,  actor,  150 

T'ao  Hua  Shan.  See  Blood- 
stained Fan,  The 

Taoism,  34 

Teh  Hing,  actor,  152 

Theater.  See  Elizabethan  The- 
ater; Greek  Theater 

Thomdyke,  Professor  A.  H.,  198, 
203,  208 

Three  Kingdoms,  The,  78,  79,  80 

Three  Pulls.  5ee  Three  Strange 
Meetings 

Three  Strange  Meetings,  83,  180 

Tiger,  The,  14 

T'ing  Hua,  critic,  154 

Tou-E.  See  Sufferings  of 
Tou-E 

Transmigration  of  You  Hsin,  33 

Trial  of  Strength  and  Viewing  the 
Ancestral  Portraits,  94,  183 

Tsai  Yuan-pei,  58 

Tung  Lo  Yuan,  140 


Tyf)es  of  Character.  See  Char- 
acter Types 

Types  of  Music.  See  Music, 
Types  of 

Types  of  Plays.  See  Plays, 
Types  of 

Vernacular.   See  Pai  Hua 

Wang  Kuo-wei,  6,  9,  10,  11,  12, 

14,  IS,  17,  18,  23 
Wen  Li,  20,  21 
Western  Chamber,  The,  24 
White  and  Black  Snakes,  The,  100 
Wu,  7,  II 

Wu  Lien-teh,  Mrs.,  71 
Wu  Wang,  Empress,  7 

Yang  Kuei-fei,  4,  70, 71,  72^., 

159,  181/. 
Yang  Kuei-fei  on  a  Spree,  157, 

181 
Yang  Kuei-fei  Tsui  Chou.     See 

Yang  Kuei-fei  on  a  Spree 
Yang  Shiao-lo,  actor,  138,  151, 

iSS 
Yellow  Jacket,  The,  170,  200,  216 
Yi  Tsai  Hua,  in 
Yo  Fei,  91,  92,  134 
Young  Nun  Seeks  Love,  ^,178 
Yii  Chan  Chih.     See  Precious 

Hairpin,  A 
Yu  Meng,  Court  Fool,  12 
Yii  Pei  T'ing.    See  Pavilion  of 

THE  Royal  Monument 
Yu  San-yen,  actor,  150 
Yu  Sze,  Court  Fool,  12 
Yuen  Tsung.    5ee  Ming  Huang 
Yung  Lo,  Emperor,  47 


[234] 


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6329  792.0951 

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ONTARIO  COLLEGE  Of  AKT 

TOKONTO,  CANADA 


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