27 Making Friends with Westerners

(1902–7)

FOR her entry into Beijing, Cixi broke with tradition and announced that foreigners were welcome to watch the royal procession. Diplomats were invited to a special building, which allowed a good view of the proceedings. And others stood on the city walls. One of them took a photograph of the empress dowager outside her sedan-chair, about to enter a hall. In the picture she is turning round to wave at them from below, a handkerchief in her hand, her heavily embroidered robe twirling. Waving to spectators was unprecedented: Cixi had encountered it in the descriptions of foreign monarchs written by the travellers she had dispatched abroad.

Twenty days after her return, on 27 January 1902, the diplomatic corps had an audience with Cixi and Emperor Guangxu. There was no silk screen and she sat on a throne. The reception was, in the words of Sarah Conger, ‘dignified, and most respectful'. A few days later, Cixi gave another reception for the diplomats' families. As she was unable to socialise with men, her effort to make friends focused on Western women. ‘The Court is over-doing it in civility,' wrote Robert Hart in amusement; ‘not only will Empress Dowager receive Ministers' wives, but also Legation children!'

On the day of the reception the sky was unusually clear, free of the frequent blinding sandstorms. Before the audience, Sarah Conger, the doyenne of the diplomatic ladies and a devout and forgiving Christian, gathered up the women and requested them to be courteous. Inside a hall of the Forbidden City, Cixi sat behind a long altar-like table, upon which lay a coral sceptre. She smiled in recognition at Sarah Conger, who had been at her previous reception three years earlier and had subsequently been caught up in the siege of the legations. Throughout the Boxer turmoil, America had shown most understanding to China and to Cixi. Now Mrs Conger addressed Cixi in a friendly manner, and Cixi replied in the same spirit, with a written speech read out by Prince Ching, who had stepped up to the throne and, on his knees, taken it from Cixi's hand. All the ladies and children were presented to Cixi, who treated them each with a sort of handshake. They were then presented to Emperor Guangxu, who took the hand of each lady.

After the formal presentations were over, as soon as the group was ushered into another hall for an informal reception, Cixi asked for Sarah Conger, who wrote: ‘She took my hands in both of hers, and her feelings overcame her. When she was able to control her voice, she said, “I regret, and grieve over the late troubles. It was a grave mistake, and China will hereafter be a friend to foreigners. No such affair will again happen. China will protect the foreigner, and we hope to be friends in the future.” ' This was both a performance and a sincere declaration. At the banquet that followed, a reconciliation ritual was enacted. Mrs Conger described the scene: Cixi ‘took her glass of wine, and we did likewise. She placed her glass in my left hand, gracefully pressed my two hands together, so that the glasses touched, and said, “United.” She then took my glass, leaving me hers, and raised the glass to all, and all responded.' Cixi ‘again and again assured me that such troubles as those of the past two years should never be repeated. Her manner was thoughtful, serious in every way, and ever mindful of the comfort and pleasure of her guests. Her eyes are bright, keen, and watchful that nothing may escape her observation. Her face does not show marks of cruelty or severity; her voice is low, soft, and attractive; her touch is gentle and kind.' Clearly, Cixi had made the intended impression.

Cixi and her foreign guests then sat down to eat, which was something extraordinary, as court rules required her fellow diners to stand. Her experiment, however, proved to be unpleasant. On one side of her was seated the ‘first lady' of the British Legation, Lady Susan Townley – the wife of the First Secretary, as the legation minister, Sir Ernest Satow, was unmarried. Lady Townley had come to China in the aftermath of the Boxer unrest with ‘a decided aversion from the thought of being surrounded by Chinese servants – I imagined they would be dirty and smelly, with repulsive hands'.¹ She now leaned towards Cixi and asked her for a gift, the bowl from which the empress dowager was eating. Lady Townley knew well that court etiquette prescribed that no one should share a sovereign's dishes. Her request could only be perceived as an insult. Later Cixi told a lady-in-waiting: ‘These foreigners seem to have the idea that the Chinese are ignorant and that therefore they need not be so particular as in European Society.' But Cixi was also aware that many Westerners hated her because of the Boxers. She swallowed the insult and obliged Lady Townley (who later boasted of her ‘unique present'). Cixi continued to be amiable to the lady, who described herself as the empress dowager's ‘Prime Favourite'. The affability did not diminish even after Lady Townley was caught trying to help herself to more treasures from the palace. A fellow Westerner who had seen her asking Cixi for the bowl wrote, ‘On another occasion the lady referred to above took an ornament from a cabinet and was carrying it away when the palace maid in attendance asked her to put it back, saying that she was responsible for everything in the room and would be punished if it was missing.' Cixi showed no ill feelings towards Lady Townley, partly, of course, because she was a representative of Britain. But perhaps the empress dowager also discerned something more sympathetic in Townley. On her way to China in a steamer, Townley had seen a young girl being subjected to foot-binding and was full of pity for ‘the poor little children'.

The banquet was the only one Cixi attended, but it marked the beginning of her frequent socialising with Western women. As she told the diplomatic wives at the end of the meal: ‘I hope that we shall meet oftener and become friends by knowing one another better.' As gift-giving (especially gifts of a personal nature) was an essential way of expressing goodwill in China, Cixi showered the wives with presents. On this occasion, she took Sarah Conger's hands in hers and, ‘taking from one of her fingers a heavy, carved gold ring set with an elegant pearl, she placed it upon one of mine; then from her wrists she took choice bracelets and placed them upon my wrists. To each lady she presented gifts of great value. The children and the interpreters were also kindly remembered.'

Back in the legations, the men decided that Cixi was trying to bribe their women, and requested the court not to give gifts in the future. Robert Hart remarked: ‘The Audiences have all gone off so well that the critics consider them too sweet and so suspect insincerity.' They accused Cixi of trying ‘to wheedle the foreigners, and curry favour, so that she might receive better treatment at the hands of the Powers'. This was undoubtedly one of her motives. But, as Sarah Conger put it: ‘This historic day cannot do harm …'

Other goodwill gestures followed, not least invitations to the Western and Eastern Mausoleums, the Summer Palace and even the Forbidden City. When visitors came to her quarters, gifts from their countries would be prominently displayed. Portraits of the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia stood on a table when the wife of the Russian minister called. And two steel-engravings of Queen Victoria, one of her in regal array, and the other with Prince Albert, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, hung on the wall to catch the eyes of the British, alongside a music-box and other ornaments from the queen. Lots of European clocks would replace her usual display of white and green jade statues of Buddha.

Cixi's second meeting with the diplomatic wives was, for Sarah Conger, ‘full of womanly significance'. The empress dowager took the most extraordinary step of inviting the foreign ladies into the privacy of her bedroom. ‘When we were taken into the most private room, Her Majesty seemed greatly pleased and waved her hand toward a richly draped and cushioned k'ang that reached across one end of the long room.' The k'ang – a heated brick bed and seat – was Cixi's favourite place to sit. There, as if out of mischief, she gave the women more presents:

Her Majesty got upon the k'ang and motioned for me and others to do the same. She took a small jade baby boy from the shelf, tucked it into my hand, and with actions interpreted her unspoken words, “Don't tell.” I took the dear little thing home, and I prize it. It showed good will, and I do not intend to let go of that thought … I was truly grateful that I could see the good spirit manifested in that woman whom the world has so bitterly condemned.

More gifts were to come. Knowing Mrs Conger's fondness for the Pekinese, a ‘beautiful little black dog' arrived in the American Legation in a ‘basket with red satin pad', complete with ‘a gold-mounted harness with a long silk cord and gold hook'. For Mrs Conger's newborn granddaughter, Cixi sent over ‘yellow silk boxes containing two beautiful jade ornaments … her first gifts sent to a foreign little one'.

Every now and then potted peonies and orchids from her gardens, baskets of fruits from her orchards, boxes of cakes and balls of tea would arrive at the legations, bearing Cixi's good wishes. For the Chinese New Year, fish – a most auspicious symbol as it shares its sound with ‘abundance' – would be delivered to the diplomatic families. The American Legation received a colossal specimen: almost 3 metres long and weighing 164 kilos. In her very Chinese way, Cixi tried to build good relations, and in Sarah Conger she made one most valuable friend, who undoubtedly eased her dealings with the foreign powers. The friendship helped to generate sympathy for China in America, and facilitated America's return of the Boxer Indemnity.

In her goodwill offensive, Cixi encouraged other Chinese women to make friends with Westerners. Soon after the first reception, Sarah Conger, who was sympathetic to the Chinese (‘While there is much that I find undesirable, I also find in their characters much to admire … I really wish to know them. I like the Chinese'), invited some court ladies to the American Legation for dinner. Cixi's adopted daughter, the Imperial Princess, acted as her representative and headed the guest list of eleven. Known to be ‘plain in appearance, dignified in bearing' and noted for ‘making the most graceful courtesy of any lady in the court', she arrived in a yellow sedan-chair. The other princesses were in red chairs, and those of lesser ranks were in green, with the interpreter in an official mule-cart. They came with 481 servants, including eight eunuchs each and sixty soldiers at the gate. For the Chinese, the more senior a person was in rank, the larger the number of servants. Mrs Conger exclaimed: ‘What a sight!' The Imperial Princess brought greetings from Cixi, who ‘hopes that the pleasant relations that now exist between America and China will always continue as they now are'. When the ladies left, ‘the grand procession passed from under the American flag and into the streets of the Dragon flag … all Chinese were kept from the streets through which the procession passed, but thousands were standing elsewhere enjoying the sight.'

Before long the ladies of the court invited the foreign ladies in return, and Mrs Conger went with nearly 100 servants ‘to conform to Chinese custom'. Thereafter the women began to mingle and became friends. In early 1903 Mrs Conger wrote about her recent life to her daughter, who had been with her in China earlier:

Do you note the departure from old-time customs and the opening, little by little, of the locked doors? I detect and appreciate it … the wives of high officials, both Manchu and Chinese, are opening their doors to us, and I am entertaining them in return. My former ideas of Chinese ladies are undergoing a great change … I find that they are interested in the affairs of their own country and also in the affairs of other countries. They study the edicts and read their newspapers. At times I refer to items and events to bring out their ideas and I find that they have much information to give.

‘I find that we have many thoughts and ideas in common,' Mrs Conger discovered. The Chinese women had read books translated by missionaries. They ‘spoke of Columbus's discovery of America, of the landing of the Pilgrims, of our troubles with England, the seceding of the colonies, of our Declaration of Independence …' One was ‘greatly interested in Professor Jenks' monetary system' – a system that the professor of Cornell University, Jeremiah Jenks, was proposing for China that year. The American minister, Edwin H. Conger was as impressed as his wife. When an American admiral asked Mrs Conger, ‘What do you ladies talk about – dress and jewels?', he replied, ‘Quite the contrary. They talk about the Manchurian troubles, political questions, and many things pertaining to their Government.' At least some of the court ladies must have been told to do their homework, as Cixi knew Westerners respected women with intelligence and opinions.

Sarah Conger and Cixi met often and had long conversations. Cixi told the American about her experiences in 1900, relating ‘in a vivid way the incidents of her flight and that of the Court; she told me of their trials and privations … Her Majesty cited to me many things of which I thought her totally ignorant.' Cixi listened as well as talked: she was ‘deeply interested in hearing of her China as I really saw it'. When they met after Conger had travelled extensively in the country in 1905, the American lady described her impressions: ‘The Chinese are reaching out for foreign ideas as never before … The whole world detects the dawn of broader thoughts …' Sarah Conger was giving Cixi something most valuable to the empress dowager: feedback from a Westerner about the monumental reforms she had put in train.

Conger felt ‘indignant over the horrible, unjust caricatures' of her friend in the foreign press, and ‘a growing desire that the world might see her more as she really is'. So she gave interviews to American newspapers and described Cixi ‘as I have many times seen her'. The American's portrayal of Cixi and the fact that they had become close friends created a new, sympathetic image of the empress dowager, especially in the United States. The press began to acknowledge her reforms, although they habitually gave credit to Mrs Conger, claiming that ‘Through Mrs Conger's influence numerous changes have taken place …' ‘China's Woman Ruler Americanizing Her Empire' read one headline. However grudgingly, the papers began to present Cixi as a progressive, one sketch even showing her in a fighting posture with a captain reading: ‘She orders women's feet unbound.' (The unbinding of women's feet was one of Cixi's first edicts when she returned to Beijing.) Sarah Conger was instrumental in bringing Cixi a better press in the West.

Cixi was appreciative and felt genuine friendship for the American lady. In 1905, the Congers had to leave China for another post. Sarah was decorated with a most exalted title and was presented with beautiful farewell presents. Before departure, she called on the palace to say goodbye to Cixi and, after the formalities, ‘we were seated and as one woman with another, the Empress Dowager and I conversed'. Then, ‘Our good-byes were said, and as I was leaving Her Majesty's presence I was asked to return. Her interpreter placed in my hand a “good-luck stone” – a blood jade, with these words: “Her Majesty has taken the good-luck stone from her person and wishes to give it to you to wear during your long journey across the great waters, that you may safely arrive in your honorable country.” ' Unremarkable in appearance, this piece of jade had been passed down through generations of the Qing dynasty, and had been worn by Cixi herself during her reign, as a talisman that would protect her in her tribulations. To part with such an object was no small thing. To do so impulsively showed Cixi's real feelings. The Congers continued to receive her messages after they were gone.

In her effort to improve Cixi's reputation in the West, Sarah Conger conceived the idea of having the empress dowager's portrait painted by an American artist for the St Louis Exposition in 1904. Cixi agreed, at considerable psychological cost. Traditionally, portraits were only painted of dead ancestors (although there were watercolours depicting daily life), and Cixi, for all her departures from convention, was superstitious. But she did not want to turn down her friend's kindness – and she also welcomed the chance to promote her image.

Katharine Carl, whose brother worked in the Chinese Customs, was recommended, and came into the court in August 1903. Cixi had only committed to one sitting, and for this she was splendidly decked out, as befitted the empress dowager of China. She wore a brocade gown of imperial yellow, richly embroidered with threads of pearls in a wisteria pattern. Hanging from the top button on her right shoulder was a string of eighteen enormous pearls separated by pieces of jade. Also suspended from the button was a large ruby, with yellow silk tassels that terminated in two immense pear-shaped pearls. A pale-blue embroidered silk handkerchief was tucked under one arm and a scent-bag with long, black silk tassels under another. The headdress was packed with jewels of different kinds, as well as large fresh flowers. Her arms and hands were adorned with bracelets and rings and, as if to extend the area for more decoration, bejewelled nail-protectors capped two fingers on each hand. The feet were not neglected: the square-fronted embroidered satin shoes were covered with small pearls, leaving bare only the centimetres-high soles. Walking on those impossible soles, Cixi advanced animatedly towards Miss Carl and asked where the Double Dragon Throne, her seat, should be placed. And so the painter began work, in a hall where she counted eighty-five clocks ticking and chiming, and feeling the eyes of her sitter ‘fixed piercingly upon me'.

Those eyes judged Miss Carl to be a straightforward person with an open and strong character. Cixi liked her. After the sitting, wrote Carl, she ‘asked me, looking straight into my eyes the while, if I would care to remain at the palace for a few days, that she might give me sittings at her leisure'. The artist, who had very quickly warmed to Cixi, was overjoyed. ‘The reports I had heard of Her Majesty's hatred of the foreigner had been dispelled by this first Audience and what I had seen there. I felt that the most consummate actress could not so belie her personality …'

Carl stayed on for nearly a year. Through her, Cixi was allowing the outside world into the mysterious Chinese court. She also enjoyed Carl's company. The painter lived in the palaces, saw Cixi practically every day and mingled with people in the court. With an observant and sensitive eye, she came closer to Cixi than most. She noticed her awesome authority, not least through the fact that her portrait was treated ‘with the respect a reverent officiant accords the Holy Vessels of the Church'. Even the artist's painting materials were invested with a sort of semi-sacred quality. ‘When Her Majesty felt fatigued, and indicated that the sittings were finished, my brushes and palette were taken by the eunuch from my hands, the portrait removed from the easel and reverently consigned to the room that had been set aside for it.' The brushes and palette were gingerly placed in specially made large flat boxes, which were locked and the keys entrusted to the head eunuch.

Katharine Carl saw how Cixi got her way, in this case by presenting her requests about the painting diffidently, as if asking for a favour. ‘She took my hand in hers, and said in an almost pleading way, “There is a bit of trimming that is not well finished. You will arrange it for me, will you not … ” ' She would apologise for her requests: ‘I am giving you a great deal of trouble, and you are very kind.' One request most tentatively and anxiously made concerned the date when the portrait would be finished. It had to be an auspicious one: the painter could not simply finish when she wished. The almanacs were consulted, and it was decided that 19 April 1904 was the right day, and four o'clock in the afternoon the ideal time. Miss Carl readily accepted and Cixi looked hugely relieved.

Carl was very struck by Cixi's passion for her gardens: ‘however careworn or harassed she might be, she seemed to find solace in flowers! She would hold a flower to her face, drink in its fragrance and caress it as if it were a sentient thing. She would go herself among the flowers that filled her rooms, and place, with lingering touch, some fair bloom in a better light or turn a jardiniere so that the growing plant might have a more favorable position.'

The painter also shared Cixi's love of dogs. The empress dowager had a large and luxurious kennel, which Carl often visited. Noticing this, Cixi gave her a pet of her own. One day ‘some young puppies were brought to be shown the Empress Dowager. She caressed the mother and examined critically the points of the puppies. Then she called me up to show them to me, asking me which I liked best … she called my attention to their fine points and insisted upon my taking each of them up.' As Carl felt awkward about taking one, Cixi had one delivered to her as a present: ‘a beautiful white-and-amber-colored Pekingese pug'. This was in fact Carl's favourite puppy, in which she had shown particular interest when she visited the kennel. Cixi had clearly made it her business to find out.

Carl experienced the most thoughtful side of Cixi, in a personal and feminine way. One day they were out walking: ‘As the day was fading and as I was thinly clad, Her Majesty thought I was cold, and, seeing I had no wrap, she called to the Chief Eunuch to bring me one of hers. He selected one from the number that were always brought along for these promenades, and gave it to Her Majesty, who threw it over my shoulders. She asked me to keep it and to try to remember to take better care of myself in the future.' When the cold season was coming, Cixi sent a maid to Carl's apartments to get one of her tailor-made European dresses, and had the palace tailors copy this in padded silk. She gave Carl a long, soft sash to tie at the side, which she said made it look more graceful. As the weather got colder still, Cixi designed for Carl a long fur-lined garment, a hybrid of European and Chinese styles, which the painter thought not only pretty, but comfortable to paint in. The empress dowager also picked a sable hat for Carl, choosing a colour that she felt would complement Carl's blonde hair, and a design that she said would bring out her strong character.

These non-European outfits were presented to the painter delicately, as Cixi was mindful that the American lady might not like the costume of another culture. Cixi's own clothes were expressions of her ethnic identity. The only time she did not wear Manchu dress was during her flight, when she wore the clothes belonging to County Chief Woo's family, which were Han. She told Carl that her new clothes were only for practical purposes and would not violate her personality. Showing the same sensitivity, when she gave a garden party for the diplomatic ladies, Cixi would arrange for Carl to be taken out of the palace to join Mrs Conger and re-enter with the American Legation ladies – in case Carl might be embarrassed to appear as though she were a member of the empress dowager's entourage. Going for walks in the gardens, Cixi would pick small flowers and tuck them behind Carl's ears, in a gesture of intimacy that Carl realised was ‘to insure a similar treatment of me by the Ladies and eunuchs'. Cixi also saw to it that Carl was included in all enjoyable activities. The beginning of the kite-flying time in spring was one such, when grandees and literati ran around like children. It was customary for the first kite to be sent up by the empress dowager. On that day Cixi invited Carl to the garden and, after letting out the string and expertly handling the kite, handed it to Carl and offered to teach her how to fly it.

Cixi behaved to Miss Carl like a girlfriend. They had a lot in common. No one appreciated Cixi's gardens as keenly as the American painter: ‘The exquisite pleasure the contemplation of this glorious view gave me made me tremble with delight.' They laughed together. One day Cixi went to see her chrysanthemums, which were in full bloom, while Carl remained at her work. When she returned, the empress dowager brought Carl a new variety and said, ‘I will give you something nice if you guess what I have named this flower.' Carl thought the curious bloom, with hair-like petals and compact centre, resembled the bald head of an old man, at which a delighted Cixi exclaimed, ‘You have guessed. I have just given it the name of the Old Man of the Mountain!' There was a casual intimacy between them. At one of her garden parties, Cixi scanned Carl's grey dress, and took a pink peony from a vase and pinned it on her, saying that a little colour would be nice. They chatted about clothes. Cixi praised European fashions for their ‘pretty colors', but said that while ‘the foreign costume was very becoming to well-made and well-proportioned people', ‘it was unfortunate for any one who was not so blessed'. The Manchu costume, on the other hand, ‘falling in straight lines from the shoulder, was more becoming to stout people, for it hid many defects'. (The empress dowager refrained from criticising Western corsets to the American painter. She apparently responded to a court lady, who had lived abroad and told her about this fashion item with some exaggeration, ‘It is truly pathetic what foreign women have to endure. They are bound up with steel bars until they can scarcely breathe. Pitiable! Pitiable!')

Staying with Cixi for almost a year, seeing her virtually daily in her own milieu, Katharine Carl felt that she ‘had come to really love' Cixi. The feeling was mutual. Cixi invited Carl to stay on for as long as she wanted and suggested that she paint other ladies in the court – and maybe even spend the rest of her life in Beijing. Carl gently declined, feeling that ‘The world beyond the Palace gates called me.'

Her painting of Cixi was an unremarkable one. Western portraits have shadows on the face, but in the Chinese tradition a face with black shadows was a ‘Yin-Yang Face', which pointed to a dubious character – a double-crosser. Heavy pressure, however tactfully exerted, was put on Miss Carl to iron out the face. ‘When I saw I must represent Her Majesty in such a conventional way as to make her unusually attractive personality banal, I was no longer filled with the ardent enthusiasm for my work with which I had begun it, and I had many a heartache and much inward rebellion before I settled down to the inevitable.' However, she wrote a book about her unique experience, With the Empress Dowager, published in 1906, which painted a mem-orable picture of Cixi. The empress dowager had made another loyal Western friend.

Meanwhile, Carl's portrait was presented to the US government after the St Louis Exposition. In the Blue Room of the White House on 18 February 1905, the Chinese minister to Washington told President Theodore Roosevelt and the assembled company that the empress dowager's gift was intended to show her appreciation of America's friendship for China and ‘her abiding interest in the welfare and prosperity of the American people'. In accepting the portrait ‘in the name of the Government and people of the United States', President Roosevelt said, ‘It is fitting this mutual friendship should exist and be maintained and strengthened in all practicable ways, whether in the larger field of international relations or by pleasing incidents like that which brings us together today.' The portrait, he said, ‘will be placed in the National Museum as a lasting memorial of the good-will that unites the two countries and the strong interest each feels in the other's well-being and advancement.'

A third woman, similarly involved with Cixi's efforts to build ties with the West, became close to her from 1903. This was Louisa Pierson, the daughter of a Boston-born American merchant in Shanghai and his local Chinese wife. At the time, the 1870s, there were many Eurasian liaisons, and their children were invariably looked down on as half-casts. Robert Hart had ‘a Chinese girl kept by me', he wrote. He lived with her for years, until he discarded her to marry a British girl. Their three children were sent to England to be raised by the wife of a bookkeeper, and neither parent set eyes on them again. His behaviour was deemed ‘generous in the extreme, almost quixotic', by the standards of the day, as other foreigners tended simply to desert their mixed-race children. How Louisa Pierson was treated by her American father, who died in Shanghai, is unknown, but she was married as a proper wife by an unusual Chinese official, Yu Keng, who did not take her as a concubine or treat her as a kept woman. Their liaison was not an easy one. The Chinese called Louisa ‘quasi foreign devil' (gui-zi-liu), and the foreign community shunned them. But the pair lived happily together with their children, completely unashamed and unapologetic about their union. Somewhat grudgingly Hart acknowledged that ‘the marriage, I believe, was a love affair', while remarking, ‘The Yu Keng family are not well thought of anywhere, but the old man himself has powerful backing – I don't know why.'

The backing came from unprejudiced sponsors, not least Cixi herself. Yu Keng had been working under Viceroy Zhang, who put him in charge of dealing with clashes between the local population and Christian missions in his provinces. The bilingual Louisa Pierson was able to talk to both sides, helping to smooth out misunderstandings and resolve disputes. Viceroy Zhang thought highly of the couple and recommended them to Beijing. There Yu received rapid promotion, first as minister to Japan, then as minister to France. While Hart grumbled (‘I don't like the appointment!'), Yu Keng and Louisa Pierson went to the hub of Europe with their ‘noisy family of English speaking children'.

In Paris, they led a cosmopolitan life. According to the Western press, who were fascinated by the couple, Louisa Pierson ‘speaks French and English perfectly, with a slight accent, which recalls the Bostonian twang, together with something indefinable which is doubtless purely Chinese. She is a most wonderful artist, drawing on silk in the fashion of the old Chinese masters with a skill and a certainty of metier which makes French painters open their mouths wide with astonishment.' She ‘presides over the embassy receptions with exceeding charm and refinement'. At a fancy-dress ball the couple gave to celebrate the Chinese New Year in 1901, one of their sons, Hsingling, dressed up as a convincing Napoleon. A Catholic, he went on to marry a French piano teacher in a church in Paris. The wedding, for which the bridegroom wore a Manchu sky-blue robe with red coral buttons, was attended by the American Ambassador to France, General Horace Porter, and was widely reported in the press, described as ‘the most picturesque and interesting marriage recently seen here' and ‘a Novel Event'. (The marriage did not survive their subsequent return to China.) The two daughters, Der Ling and Rongling, wrote the New York Times, ‘are adorably pretty, and they dress in the European style with a finish and skill to which something of Oriental charm is added which makes them the cynosure of all eyes when they enter a drawingroom [sic]'. Louisa and her husband gave their daughters unheard-of freedom to enjoy Paris to the full. They socialised, frequented the theatre (where they were mesmerised by Sarah Bernhardt) and took dancing lessons with the famed Isadora Duncan. They performed at their parents' parties and danced European-style ballroom dancing with close body contact with foreign men. The family's lifestyle, including Louisa letting a Frenchman kiss her hand, raised not only eyebrows but also rancour: the family was denounced to the throne by outraged mission officials.

But Cixi liked what they were doing and waited impatiently for their return. After Yu Keng's term ended, and after a whirlwind tour of major European cities, the family arrived back in Beijing in early 1903. At once, Cixi invited Louisa Pierson and her daughters to the palace to be her ladies-in-waiting, and placed them ahead of most other court ladies. The two daughters, both speaking English and French, interpreted for Cixi in her increasingly frequent contacts with Westerners. When she heard that the younger daughter, Rongling, had studied music and dance in Paris, Cixi was enthusiastic. She said that she had always felt it a tremendous pity that Chinese dancing had almost disappeared, and that she had tried unsuccessfully to find someone to research court records and revive it. ‘Now Rongling can do it,' said the empress dowager. So Rongling began a career that established her reputation as ‘the First Lady of modern dancing in China'. Urged on by Cixi, she studied court and folk dances and, combining them with ballet and other types of Western dancing, choreographed a series of dances, which she performed in front of a greatly delighted Cixi. Accompanying her was a Western-style orchestra set up by General Yuan, as well as the court ensemble.

Louisa Pierson was Cixi's most-valued general consultant about the outside world. At last having someone close to her who had first-hand knowledge of Europe and Japan, and whose views she respected, Cixi sought her advice daily. One early interpreter, a girl who had been to Germany with her father, an attaché in the Chinese Mission, had told Cixi that the German court was ‘very simple'. Trying to gauge how extravagant her own court was by international standards, Cixi asked Louisa, who said that although she had not been to any German palaces, she understood that they were in fact quite grand. Cixi was reassured. Intelligent and competent, Louisa Pierson was far more than a source of information or adviser on diplomatic etiquette. Even international politics fell within her orbit. When Japan and Russia looked set to go to war in Manchuria in late 1903, Cixi often talked to her about Japan, where Louisa had been stationed with her husband. One day the wife of the Japanese minister, Uchida Kōsai, requested a visit. Cixi was very fond of the lady and had given her a Pekinese puppy, as she had to Mrs Conger. Such friendly gestures were of course also for the benefit of Tokyo. Cixi knew the lady's visit at this moment had a political agenda, and that Tokyo wanted to sound out her real thoughts about Japan, which she had no wish to divulge. Louisa Pierson helped Cixi decide to have Rongling as the interpreter, who, on her mother's instruction, mistranslated the Japanese lady's probing and politically charged questions, turning them into harmless chatting. Louisa was so indispensable to Cixi that when she occasionally went away to see her sick husband, Cixi would urge her, however tactfully, to hurry back. It was with reluctance and resignation that Cixi let Louisa leave the court altogether when her husband was extremely ill – indeed dying – in 1907.

¹A view she later revised. ‘Looking back, I often regret them and wish I had them now. They were the cleanest people imaginable, and the quietest in their service. They never gave the slightest trouble and never wanted an evening off!'