Seldom at council--never in a war,"
Lady Chaoukeun, a farmer's daughter, who has been raised to be Princess of Han, has never yet seen the king's face. She was eighteen years of age when brought into the royal palace, but by the intrigue of the prime minister she had been ignored and neglected. Her picture has been mutilated by the official, not only that he might destroy her prospects in the royal eye, but also that he might extort money in selecting other beauties for the palace. Her father, being poor, was unable to pay the amount exacted. But by chance the king comes upon her as she plays the lute in the darkness. He, enraptured by the music, asks to see her. Her beauty at once charms him. He hears the story of her sadness, and the plot of the minister is made known. The latter is at once condemned to lose his head. Making his escape, however, he reaches the camp of the Tartars, who are at this very juncture threatening the land, and gives himself over to their assistance. Being shown a true picture of Lady Chaoukeun in all her beauty, the prince of the Tartars falls desperately in love, and is willing even to offer peace to the king if he will but give up the beautiful princess. The king, sorrowful, but unable otherwise to save his land from devastation, delivers over his wife to the enemy, she herself consenting to be sacrificed that the kingdom and her husband's dynasty may be preserved. But, faithful in her love, she is not long in the hand of the Tartar prince. She seizes her opportunity, and throws herself into the surging river, along which the Tartar army was camped, and is drowned. When Khan, the Tartar prince, saw his prize had escaped his grasp, he decides to give back the traitor minister to King Han for punishment. That very night Han sees his martyr wife in his dreams. He arises to embrace her, but she is gone again. The play closes with the order for the beheading of him who has brought upon the royal house such sorrow.
Most of the romance in a Chinese woman's life, however, is found in the books, which tell of the earlier days. The first event in the life of most women in China, though she does not at the time realize it, is a sad one. There is usually scant welcome for the girl. Certainly, amidst the masses of the people, she enters upon a rough and weary way. She is reared in seclusion and ignorance. Her little brothers, even, are not her companions. If she should have any association with them, she is little better than their servant. Her name does not appear upon the family register, since she is expected to belong to another family when she is old enough to wed.
Does one ask of courtship in China? There is no such thing there, unless bartering by go-betweens could be called by that name. Girls spend their last days of maidenhood in loud wailing, and their girl friends come to weep with them. Well may they do this. After marriage, which is itself a bitter rather than a happy experience for the bride, they continue a life of worse slavery--slavery abject and heartless--to women who have been slaves to other women. The mother-in-law in China rules her daughter-in-law with an iron hand, and the wife's future depends much more upon the character of the husband's mother than upon the husband himself. That the coming of girls into the home is not so welcome an event as that of boys is quite natural, for it is expected that at about sixteen years of age the girl will become a member of another family, returning but occasionally to the house of her birth. So that while a mother's hope of prestige lies in her sons, the ministering cares which she might expect in duty from her daughter must be tendered her by the wife of her son rather than by the sympathetic hands of her daughter, whose attentions must be unremitting to the mother of her own husband.
Betrothals are sometimes made in infancy. But since such contracts are regarded as being quite as binding as a marriage, wisdom usually dictates a postponement. Girls are therefore usually betrothed a year or two before marriage, which in most cases occurs at about fifteen years of age. Among the poorer classes, in order to avoid the expense ordinarily involved in betrothal, a mother will sometimes buy, or receive as a gift, an infant girl, who is reared as a wife for her son.
Marriage, however, in China as elsewhere, is always regarded as a matter of deep concern in a woman's career. But in China she has little share in the events which lead up to the wedding day. Proposals of marriage and the acceptances are often made without either party to the life union knowing about the transactions. Nor are the experiences of the nuptial day always joyous to the timid young bride. Up to the time of her marriage, the girl has spent her days in comparative seclusion. Thrust now suddenly among strangers, she naturally shrinks with a feeling almost akin to terror. This ordeal she must face with apparently little sympathy. Audible comments are made concerning her when she is at length in the home of her new-found parents, as they give their vivid impressions of the newcomer. In parts of China at least, it is customary for the unmarried girls along the route to throw at the passing bride handfuls, not of rice, but of hayseed or chaff, which, striking upon her well-oiled black hair, adheres readily and conspicuously. Not only must the girl be given in marriage by the parents, but the man must let his parents know of his desire to marry, and get counsel at their hands. In the sacred Book of Poetry it is expressly written:
"How do we proceed in taking a wife?
Announcement must be first made to our parents."
Married women seldom have names of their own. A wife may have two surnames, that of her husband and that of her mother's family. If she have a son, she may be called "Mother of So-and-So." Nor is she expected to speak to others of her husband directly as her husband. She must use some circumlocution which does not directly state her relation to him.
Chinese economists might possibly defend polygamy and concubinage on the ground that these tend to produce a sturdier race than would be otherwise possible; for the concubines of the wealthier classes are usually taken from among the stronger working people, whose superior physical vigor is constantly adding fresh blood to the more delicate classes. But the moral evils of the system undoubtedly more than counterbalance any physical advantage that may accrue to society through its existence.