The Portrait of the Empress Dowager in Its Frame
This Frame is Made of Camphor-wood Carved in the Palace after the Empress’s own Designs and under Her Direction
An amusing little incident took place while the ladies were looking at it. The Empress Dowager, in her cursory examination in this light, noticed a part of the trimming of the gown where the design was not well worked out. She came up to me, as I stood in a group of ladies, and pointed out the defect. 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, Ker-Gunia?” She did not believe in leaving anything to the imagination, and wished every detail fully worked out!
This portrait was very successfully photographed, and Her Majesty concluded she liked it much better than the one which had been sent to St. Louis. She said it would make me “famous.” But when I thought of how I might have painted this wonderfully interesting woman in the unique setting in which she was placed, I realized that “it might have been” are really the “saddest words of tongue or pen.”
The precedent having been established, the idea of a representation of the Sacred Person of a Chinese Majesty being seen by the world having been accepted, the painting of Her Majesty’s first portrait not having been followed by the dire results that the Chinese had prophesied, the traditional prejudice was overcome, and when she saw how quickly the photograph was made of the portrait, and how satisfactory it was, she decided she would have the photographer try one of herself, and she was not one to stop at a single trial. After waiting sixty-eight years to see a counterfeit presentment of herself, I know she will now indulge this new fantasy of hers to its fullest extent, and perhaps some other artist may at some time paint her according to western ideas, and represent her attractive personality in its best setting. But there must always be a pioneer, and he it is who suffers the hardships and makes the way clear for others, which must be my solace and consolation for not being able to paint her as I should have liked. The Empress Dowager “consented” to have a portrait of herself painted. Before I finished the first one she told me she wanted “many,” and suggested my passing the rest of my life out in Peking. I painted four. Who will do the others?
I felt I could not go on forever painting portraits, according to Chinese traditions, of the Empress Dowager. I could not spend my life in this dalliance with Oriental splendor. The world beyond the Palace gates called me. I hurried to finish my task. The last portrait was nearing completion. My sojourn at the Palace was drawing to a close. Though I longed to be where I might paint in a freer way, I looked forward with real regret to leaving the Palace, and especially to leaving the Empress Dowager and the young Empress, for I had come to really love them. I found Her Majesty by far the most fascinating personality it had ever been my good fortune to study at such close range. The young Empress was a sweet, kind nature, full of dignity and pathos, for whom I prayed there might be greater happiness in store than had yet fallen to her lot. My sojourn at the Palaces of Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Dowager of China, my association with herself and the Ladies of her Court, I shall always remember as one of the most charming experiences of my life.
