OTHER PARTS

Those prominent women whose lives we can trace in some detail fit fairly comfortably into three groups. Many of the women of whom we know were poetesses, authors or artists, a factor assisted both by the survival of their work (usually for many centuries, indicating it was highly valued) and the fact they almost invariably came from upper levels of society.

The other main group of women whose deeds have come down through history are those who were active in politics. They are often regarded with disapproval by contemporary (male) writers who are horrified by their influence on governance and administration, but stripping away misogynist views they were very effective for their families and sometimes the empire. The final group of women whose lives are detailed in print are more diverse, being women of the late 19th and early 20th century who came to the attention of Westerners. They come from more diverse social backgrounds and are sometimes not politically or artistically notables. This makes the works on their lives very valuable, although the fact these are filtered through Western eyes and are living in what was probably the worst period for women in Chinese history needs to also be considered.

Naturally we know more detail of the achievements of women from the last millenia, but that does not mean others excluded. Van Gulik suggests, persuasively, that the development of printing which greatly increased the accessibility of literary works and paintings, helped spread learning to women in later periods (in the Sung and after). As already discussed there is practical evidence of widespread female literacy among the top stratas of society. Possibly printing meant more women had the chance to make their literary or artistic mark, although of course the countervailing force was the increasingly conservative ideology of the times.

Many of the women of artistic fame were concubines or courtesans, and it is important to make the point that these were not viewed with contempt or disgust as in the West. In fact their company, learning and skills were often all that was drawn upon. As van Gulik points out, in a polygamous society sexual services were readily available to many men, particularly the richer among them, so they were not necessarily asked of courtesans. He even suggests "men frequented the company of courtezans often as an escape from carnal love, a welcome relief from the often oppressive atmosphere of their own women's quarters and the compulsory sexual relations". A decent literary education was essential for any courtesan with ambition and they expected to be treated with respect and courtesy by clients. At least theoretically they could pick and choose the patrons they received.

In later times the view of courtesans was less sanguine, as neo-Confucianism took hold. Thus Shen Fu, in many ways an unconventional thinker for his time, states that Hsiao-hsiao (see above) "nothing but a sing-song girl" was remembered when "countless chaste and virtuous women ... since ancient days have been buried without being remembered". Furthermore, it should not be suggested a courtesan's life was always a happy one. Shen Fu provides an account of the hardships of the life of a poorer class of courtesan (although one still along way above the common prostitute). He describes a "life of constantly welcoming new guests and seeing off old one. When unhappy they still had to laugh loudly, and when they could not stand the taste of wine they still had to drink a great deal; when sick they still had to entertain guests and when their throats hurt they still had to sing".

Among these early artistic women of whom we know there was Lady Pan, concubine of the Han emperor Ch'eng (32-7BC). Poets a millenia later were still referring to an image she created of the abandoned women as a fan of white silk discarded in autumn. Yu Hsuan-chi (ca844-871) was from a poor family and self educated. Eventually did so well from her literary work she was not officially registered as a concubine.

Poetess Huang O (1498-1569) was already well-known for her learning before her marriage according to accounts of the time and was not betrothed until age 21, then to a well-known scholar. So her acquisition of learning and a high reputation in the area was independent of her husband. Her life could not be described as a happy one, but she certainly was an important actor in her own right. After her husband was banished from the court she tended his estate and sent him money while he cavorted with concubines. After her husband's death she continued to run the estate and educated his two sons by concubines.

James Cahill presents the story of the courtesan Liu Yin (1618-1664) who rose to be a respected painter and poet, capturing a distinguished scholar through her own initiative. It was not just a question of sexual appeal and feminine wiles, for her protector was Ch'ien Ch'ien-i "the leading literary critic of his generation". She worked with him, composing poetry and editing an anthology.

Then there is Ch'en Shu, who fitted within most of the traditional Confucian virtues yet carved a considerable career as a painter in the generally repressive Ching dynasty. She had no family tradition in the area, so her success must be attributed to her own efforts, and she started what was virtually a dynasty of painters. And her influence went further, with the court master Chin T'in-piao two centuries later completing an album "imitating Ch'en Shu".

This is not to say that all women were able to pursue the artistic skills they may have acquired. Ch'ing painter Sun Pao-shan, already well-known for her flower paintings and small-script calligraphy was married to a merchant who virtually stopped her painting. She is alleged to have died of grief at 40, and a similar fate awaited the nineteenth century artist Jen Ch'un-ch'i.

Women's paintings were also judged on a different standard and seen to be fundamentally different from men's. They were "softer" and "more delicate", yet there is strong evidence to suggest this thesis is untenable and the work of at least prominent women painters was as a group indistinguishable from that of their male compatriots. It is impossible to conclude our comments on literary and artistic women without making reference to Pan Chao "the foremost woman scholar of China". Like most of the other women mentioned above, she came from a strongly scholastic family background , including a prominently scholarly female great aunt, Pan Chieh-yu, a concubine of the emperor . Her daughter-in-law continued the tradition, assembling her works.

Pan Chao is best known for her Lessons for Women , but it should not be forgotten that she wrote many other items, ranging from verses for the emperor "every time there was a presentation of tribute or of unusual gifts" to the contributing (at the command of the emperor ) to the great historical work Han Shu, together with her father and brother. There's some controversy over her precise individual contribution, but one translator concludes that in terms of bulk she wrote "nearly a quarter of the entire book".

Pan Chao also supervised male scholars in their editing of the emperor's library and was appointed instructress to the empress. She was also involved in politics, it being recorded that "when the empress Teng became regent (106AD) she conferred with Pan Chao concerning affairs of state".

Turning then to "political women", we must first note that the elite male writings from earliest times are strongly opposed to women being involved in decision making. Yet even the Chinese texts, usually in disapproving terms, acknowledge the imperial harem was "an intensely political environment, not only in terms of its internal functioning but also in terms of its influence on wider events".

The most outstanding political woman was of course Empress Wu of the Tang dynasty. The writing about her provides a perfect example of the thesis of this essay, that the misogyny of the imperial Chinese writers, added to those of modern scholars, have come to point an extremely black picture of a powerful woman. Thus van Gulik uncritically repeats the comments of Chinese writers (who were prejudiced against Wu not just because she was a woman but also because they belong to the party which assumed power after her death which was hostile to her). Sexual innuendo and political slander is repeated as firm history in a way which is certainly not unknown against males but which throughout history has been a particularly used against women. She has entered the mythology as the empress who ordered all the flowers to bloom in the middle of winter for her frivolous pleasure, although it is interesting to note that in at least one version of this tale "since the empress was a sovereign ordained by Heaven, the plants dared not disobey her". In Western scholarship she has been compared in ruthlessness to Catherine of Russia, who has received similar treatment at the hands of politically-hostile male historians.

Surprisingly there has been no recent work on the Empress Wu, surely a great topic for a modern scholarly biography, but a few hints that the traditional picture is something less than accurate can be found in various quarters. Ching Chung has shown that the Chinese bureaucracy "made no distinction between addressing issues directly to male emperors or to female regents, suggesting that the bureaucracy recognised the sovereign rights of female rulers". Similarly, while she did not go quite so far as Wu, the Empress Dowager Liu of the Northern Sung wielded great power as regent, taking on such prerogatives of the emperor as the "ritual ceremonial ploughing and ancestral worship in the Temple of Imperial Ancestors". And more famously there was the Empress Dowager Tzu hsi (1835-1908), whose treatment by historiography probably largely mirrored that of the Empress Wu's.

Since the early Han period the right of the empress-dowager to chose the new emperor when the previous had left no sons had been clear. This gave an empress the obvious chance to chose a young boy many years from his majority and opt for many years of personal rule.

There is also increasing evidence that while she undoubtedly made some poor decisions in her reign, the Empress Wu was hardly the ogre of popular description. Thus as Dawson comments, while she did dispose of rivals unpleasantly this was hardly unusual, and as a woman in an unprecedented situation, she had to be "even more ruthless than a man". She also played an important part in the long term shift which saw the intellectuals take over from the aristocracy as the main class of government.

Empress Ma, wife of the first emperor of the Ming dynasty Chu Yuanchang is an example of a woman who very much controlled her own destiny and contributed to her husband's position. Originally she was probably a slave-girl, and her feet were unbound. Self-taught, she acted as secretary in charge of his documents and manager of the household as he emerged as a rebel leader against the declining Yuan dynasty.

Ma made important military moves on her own initiative during her husband's rise to the throne and after he became emperor she is recorded as often advising him, wisely, on matters of state. The deathbed message history records from Ma to the emperor sums this up: "May you always seek out virtuous and able men, listen to their advice and not act hastily."

A woman who seems to have played a similar role is Wu-yen, empress of Emperor Hsun of the Northern Chi Dynasty. She attained the position of empress after reprimanding the emperor about his poor government, not what traditional scholars would have predicted as a reason for the elevation.

The warrior women of myth and history also find a recorded real-life compatriot in the Ming. She was T'ang Sai-er, who was one of the leaders of the Shantung insurrection of 1420. With a Buddhist background, she was believed (not unusually for China) to have supernatural powers. She led rebels who were successful against imperial troops although inevitably they were eventually overwhelmed. But T'ang Sai-er was never captured, unlike her fellow leaders, greatly enhancing beliefs in her magical powers.

Also deserving of mention is the story of Sun Wu and the women warriors he trained, "which started as a joke and later became an effective fighting force". The warriors allegedly operated in the 5th century BC and while the details may be fabrications certainly seem likely to indicate some women warriors existed prior to its recording in the first century BC.

Another fascinating woman, who was not only a warrior and politician but also a highly effective businesswoman, is known to us only as Cheng I's wife. Starting life as a prostitute, after her marriage her Cheng she was instrumental in his establishing leadership over the south China pirates, a confederation which by 1804 commanded 400 junks and 70,000 men. In 1807 Cheng died but his wife maintained control, eventually marrying a young protege of hers who remained firmly under her control while fostering the federation's wealth and power. Eventually the government was forced to negotiate and Cheng's wife was able to keep much of her wealth while her new husband was appointed to the bureaucracy, where he rose rapidly, while she seems to have still been more than holding her own. Other less prominent and usually now unknown women no doubt played an important role in lifting the standing and wealth of their families. There's bountiful evidence for this in imperial Chinese historiography and records, in which pleas to the throne to ignore or reject the influence of palace women and the advancement of their relatives is a common theme.

A recent study has also found considerable professional or semi-professional occupations available to women in Ming Beijing. Cass lists some of these as "physicians specialising in sphygmology (diagnosis based on pulse taking), wetnurses, midwives, pharmacologists and drug pedlars, coroners''s assistants, undertakers, yin-yang specialists, shamanesses and female adepts". As she outlines, many of these served the female quarters of the palace, or other rich homes, places to which a male physicians could not go. The proximity to the palace, and the close relationships often built with their clients, also gave them the opportunity to gain considerable wealth, and wield political influence.

Moving now to the third group of women identified above, I will discuss three women who lived at the end of the imperial era whose lives have been recorded in detail in English. Kwei-li was the wife of a high Chinese official and two collections of her letters, to her husband and mother-in-law, were translated into English early this century. Ning Lao T'ai-t'ai was from the other end of Chinese society, the daughter of a workman, who encountered much hardship in her life. Another women about whom we have learnt is the grandmother of Jung Chang, who recently published a family history.

In the life of Ning Lao T'ai-t'ai are accounts of the usual pain and suffering we have come to expect: two years of agony after binding of the feet and comments on the desirability of these feet, giving an indication of the pressure on mothers to cause this pain. Ning Lao T'ai-t'ai also speaks of the popular suspicion of women, even by women, which the stereotypes of Chinese women would lead us to expect: "A woman could not visit on the first or the 15th of any month. She could not, when visiting, lean against the frame of the door. She must not stand or sit on the doorstep or even touch it in crossing. To do any of these things might give her power over the family she was visiting and so ruin them. Women were not considered clean. No woman would be allowed in the presence of a person suffering from smallpox, for the same reason. There was danger that she was not clean at the time, or that she had been lately with her husband."

Yet it should be noted that the basis of this superstitious behaviour is fear - fear of the power of the woman. There is also evidence in this work among the poor of a secret women's world. Ning Lao T'ai-t'ai speaks of going to "an old woman who dealt in such matters" who gave a prescription which caused an abortion for a widow who became embarrassingly pregnant. With such importance placed on sons, and chastity, male society would certainly not have approved of such an occurrence.

Kwei-li, although her husband was Western-influenced, spent much of her time with a conservative mother-in-law, so her life can be considered fairly typical of traditional Chinese woman of the imperial era. Hers was of course an arranged marriage, yet the letters for her husband betray a deep love which could hardly be doubted or dismissed as convention. We do not know her age, but it is clear that Kwei-li is quite young, perhaps in her early 20s, and has not yet borne a child, when she takes over as head of a large household, symbolically (and practically) holding the keys to the rice-bin. "If the servants or their children are ill, they come to me ... I settle all difficulties, unless they be too rare or heavy for one of my mind and experience". This is an example of a factor sometimes commented on but rarely stressed, that "principal wives were persons of consequence, with great authority within the household". This extended even to punishments such as whipping for other members of the household.

The life of Jung Chang's grandmother also provides an example, unusual as her tale might have been, of how women might have to take responsibility for themselves and others under extremely difficult circumstances, and at a young age. Made the concubine to a warlord general, her grandmother bore him a child, one of only two descendants for the general. The baby belonged to the general but as he lay dying Chang's grandmother managed to flee in a dramatic escape with the child, and convince the family it had died. Later she married a Manchu doctor, despite the huge opposition of his family and maintained her position despite considerable opposition.

There is considerable evidence in Kwei-li's words that girl children were not always regarded as second-best or treated poorly. Of her own childhood she writes of spending time with her father, and she also records a much-loved daughter of a poor family whose mother refused to sell her in time of famine. Similarly while the tyrannous mother-in-law is a popular figure, Kwei-li records how she welcomes a son's young bride with consideration and concern.