China and the West

Letter from Ezra Pound to James Joyce (1917).
"I have begun an endless poem, of no known category, Phanapoeia or something or other, all about everything. Poetry may print the first three Cantos this spring. I wonder what you will make of it. Probably too sprawling and unmusical to find favor in your ears". [Betr. Da xue].

Letter from Ezra Pound to Kate Buss ; 4 January (1917).
"Dear Miss Buss : Thanks for sending me the copy of your review. The only error seems to be in supposing that 'Albâtre' was in any way influenced by Chinese stuff which I did not see until a year of two later. The error is natural as Cathay appeared before Lustra, but the separate poems in Lustra had mostly been written before the Chinese translations were begun and had mostly been printed in periodicals either here or in America… The subject is Chinese, the language of the translations is mine – I think. At least if you compare the 'Song of the Bowemen' with the English version of the same poem in Jennings' 'Shi King' Part II, 1-7 called 'Song of the Troops', or the 'Beautiful Toilet' with the same poem in Giles' Chinese literature, you will be able to gauge the amount of effect the celestial Chinese has on the osseous head of an imbecile or a philologist. Omahitsu is the real modern – even Parisian – of VIII cent. China."

Letter from Ezra Pound to John Quinn ; Jan. 10, 1917.
"The Dec. number of Seven Arts has just arrived. I don't know whether I owe it to you or to the editor. I have just sealed up Fenollosa's Essay on the Chinese written character, to send to them. It is one of the most important essays of our time. But they will probably reject it on the ground of its being exotic. Fenollosa saw and anticipated a good deal of what has happened in art (painting and poetry) during the last ten years, and his essay is basic for all aesthetics, but I doubt if that will cut much ice… I want the Fenollosa essay published… China is fundamental, Japan is not… I don't mean to say there aren't interesting things in Fenollosa's Japanese stuff (or fine things, like the end of Kagekiyo, which is, I think, 'Homeric'). But China is solid. One can't go back of the Exile's letter, or the Song of the bowmen, or the North Gate."

Eliot, T.S. Ezra Pound : his metric and poetry [ID D29165].
After "Ripostes," Mr. Pound's idiom has advanced still farther. Inasmuch as "Cathay," the volume of translations from the Chinese, appeared prior to "Lustra," it is sometimes thought that his newer idiom is due to the Chinese influence. This is almost the reverse of the truth. The late Ernest Fenollosa left a quantity of manuscripts, including a great number of rough translations (literally exact) from the Chinese. After certain poems subsequently incorporated in "Lustra" had appeared in "Poetry," Mrs. Fenollosa recognized that in Pound the Chinese manuscripts would find the interpreter whom her husband would have wished; she accordingly forwarded the papers for him to do as he liked with. It is thus due to Mrs. Fenollosa's acumen that we have "Cathay"; it is not as a consequence of "Cathay" that we have "Lustra." This fact must be borne in mind…
It is easy to say that the language of "Cathay" is due to the Chinese. If one looks carefully at (1) Pound's other verse, (2) other people's translations from the Chinese (e.g., Giles's), it is evident that this is not the case. The language was ready for the Chinese poetry. Compare, for instance, a passage from "Provincia Deserta":
I have walked
into Périgord
I have seen the torch-flames, high-leaping,
Painting the front of that church,—
And, under the dark, whirling laughter,
I have looked back over the stream
and seen the high building,
Seen the long minarets, the white shafts.
I have gone in Ribeyrac,
and in Sarlat.
I have climbed rickety stairs, heard talk of Croy,
Walked over En Bertran's old layout,
Have seen Narbonne, and Cahors and Chalus,
Have seen Excideuil, carefully fashioned.
with a passage from "The River Song":
He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping storks,
He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new nightingales,
For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new nightingales,
Their sound is mixed in this flute,
Their voice is in the twelve pipes here.
It matters very little how much is due to Rihaku and how much to Pound. Mr. Ford Madox Hueffer has observed: "If these are original verses, then Mr. Pound is the greatest poet of this day." He goes on to say:
The poems in "Cathay" are things of a supreme beauty. What poetry should be, that they are. And if a new breath of imagery and handling can do anything for our poetry, that new breath these poems bring….
Poetry consists in so rendering concrete objects that the emotions produced by the objects shall arise in the reader….
Beauty is a very valuable thing; perhaps it is the most valuable thing in life; but the power to express emotion so that it shall communicate itself intact and exactly is almost more valuable. Of both these qualities Mr. Pound's book is very full. Therefore, I think we may say that this is much the best work he has done, for, however closely he may have followed his originals—and of that most of us have no means of judging—there is certainly a good deal of Mr. Pound in this little volume.
"Cathay" and "Lustra" were followed by the translations of Noh plays. The Noh are not so important as the Chinese poems (certainly not so important for English); the attitude is less unusual to us; the work is not so solid, so firm. "Cathay" will, I believe, rank with the "Sea-Farer" in the future among Mr. Pound's original work; the Noh will rank among his translations. It is rather a dessert after "Cathay." There are, however, passages which, as Pound has handled them, are different both from the Chinese and from anything existent in English. There is, for example, the fine speech of the old Kagekiyo, as he thinks of his youthful valour…

Pound, Ezra. Provincialism the enemy. In : New age ; 19 July (1917).
"Confucius' constant emphasis is on the value of personality, on the outlines of personality, on the man's right to preserve the outlines of his personality, and of his duty not to interfere with the personalities of others. Confucius' emphasis is on conduct. 'Fraternal deference' is his phrase. If a man have 'fraternal deference' his character and his opinions will not be a nuisance to his friends and a peril to the community. It is a statesman's way of thinking. The thought is for the community, Confucius' constant emphasis is on the value of personality, on the outlines of personality, on the man's right to preserve the outlines of his personality, and of his duty not to interfere with the personalities of others."

If Wallace Stevens had not viewed Chan paintings as the hanging scroll, 'White heron', the fan piece 'Winter forest' and the square album leaf 'Winter riverscape' in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, he had at least gazed at works similar to them.

Jane Austen in China : general
Zhang Helong : Jane Austen was first mentioned in China 1917 by Wei Yi. In 1911 Austen's novels only concentrated on so called 'daily triviality', which was of no interest to the Chinese intellectuals. Translators and scholars paid no attention to her and failed to recognize the particular significance of her work. In the 1930s Jane Austen's name began to appear as an important novelist in some academic books. In the 1980s, almost everyone in China began to view Austen as a major classic novelist. In the 1990s about one hundred essays were devoted to the study of Austen. She now usually occupies and exclusive chapter in almost every English literary history published in China.
Zhu Hong : Austen was never mentioned in the past in China without being regarded as one who described a narrow life and trivial affairs but turned a blind eye to the English War against Napoleon. It's no wonder that she's been dwarfed by many first-class writers in Western countries. For a long time in our country, Austen has remained in the background under a severe look of disapproval, and failed to land a position among those Western classic works that have been pinned down for translation and publication in China. When the Gang of four came into power during the Cultural Revolution, her name was simply deleted from the history of English literature.

Wei, Yi. Tai xi ming xiao shuo jia lüe zhuan [ID D30611].
First mention of Jane Austen in China.
Jane Austen was hailed as "one of the celebrated English novelists ". Sense and sensibility topped the list of her "four major novels".

Library of Leonard and Virginia Woolf. [ID D31515].
Boxer indemnity and Chinese education : The question on the remission and allocation of the British share. (London: Chinese Association for the Promotion of Education, 1924). Review copy.
China’s position in international finance. Pamphlets on Chinese Questions, 6. (London: Allen & Unwin, 1919).
Chitty, J. R. Things seen in China. (London : Seeley, 1909).
Coleman, Frederic Abernethy. The Far East unveiled : an inner history of events in Japan and China in the year 1916. (London : Cassell, 1918). Review copy.
Fa-hsien. The travels of Fa-hsien (399-414 A.D.), or, Record of the Buddhist kingdoms [ID D7723].
Giles, Herbert Allen. Chaos in China [ID D7750].
Hakluyt, Richard. The principall nauigations, voiages and discoueries of the English nation [ID D1635].
Keeton, George Williams. The development of extraterritoriality in China. (London : Longmans, Green, 1928). Vol. 1.
Mandeville, John, Sir. The Travels of Sir John Mandeville. (London : Macmillan, 1900).
Oriental stories (La Fleur lascive orientale) : being a recueil of joyous stories hitherto unpublished. Translated from Arabian, Mongolian, Japanese, Indian, Tamil, Chinese, Persian, Malayan, and other sources. (Athens: Erotika Biblion Society, 1893).
Polo, Marco. The book of Ser Marco Polo, the Venetian, concerning the kingdoms and marvels of the East. Transl. and ed. by Henry Yule. 3d ed., rev. (London : Murray, 1903). Vol. 2. [ID D5467].
Polo, Marco. The Travels of Marco Polo, the Venetian. Introd. by John Masefield. London : Dent, 1926).
Pratt, John Thomas. China and Japan. (London : King and Staples, 1944).
The relations between China and Japan during the last twenty-five years. (London : Allen & Unwin, 1919). 2 review copies.
Robinson, Joan ; Adler, Sol. China : an economic perspective. (London : Fabian International Bureau, 1958).
Russell, Bertrand. The problem of China [ID D5122].
The situation in the Taiwan area : position of the Soviet Union. (London: Soviet News, 1958).
Wang, Chung-hui. Law reform in China. (London : Allen & Unwin, 1919). Review copy.
Willoughby, Westel Woodbury. Foreign rights and interests in China. Rev. and enl. ed. Vol. 1-2. (Baltimore : Johns Hopkins University Press, 1927).
Willoughby, Westel Woodbury. Opium as an international problem. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1925). Review copy.
The world peace and Chinese tariff autonomy. (London: Allen & Unwin, 1919).

Virginia Woolf. Works [ID D31517].
1917
Woolf, Virginia. The mark on the wall. (Richmond : Hogarth Press, 1917).
It is true that he does finally incline to believe in the camp; and, being opposed, indites a pamphlet which he is about to read at the quarterly meeting of the local society when a stroke lays him low, and his last conscious thoughts are not of wife or child, but of the camp and that arrowhead there, which is now in the case at the local museum, together with the foot of a Chinese murderess, a handful of Elizabethan nails, a great many Tudor clay pipes, a piece of Roman pottery, and the wine-glass that Nelson drank out of--proving I really don't know what.

1919
Woolf, Virginia. Kew gardens. (Richmond : Hogarth Press, 1919).
"Wherever does one have one's tea?" she asked with the oddest thrill of excitement in her voice, looking vaguely round and letting herself be drawn on down the grass path, trailing her parasol, turning her head this way and that way, forgetting her tea, wishing to go down there and then down there, remembering orchids and cranes among wild flowers, a Chinese pagoda and a crimson crested bird; but he bore her on…
But there was no silence; all the time the motor omnibuses were turning their wheels and changing their gear; like a vast nest of Chinese boxes all of wrought steel turning ceaselessly one within another the city murmured; on the top of which the voices cried aloud and the petals of myriads of flowers flashed their colours into the air…

1919
Woolf, Virginia. Night and day. (London : Hogarth Press, 1919).
Chap. 1
She observed that he was compressing his teacup, so that there was danger lest the thin china might cave inwards...
Chap. 4
The three of them stood for a moment awkwardly silent, and then Mary left them in order to see that the great pitcher of coffee was properly handled, for beneath all her education she preserved the anxieties of one who owns china...
Chap. 9
All the books and pictures, even the chairs and tables, had belonged to him, or had reference to him; even the china dogs on the mantelpiece and the little shepherdesses with their sheep had been bought by him for a penny a piece from a man who used to stand with a tray of toys in Kensington High Street, as Katharine had often heard her mother tell...

1920
Woolf, Virginia. Solid objects. In : The Athenaeum ; October (1920).
Anything, so long as it was an object of some kind, more or less round, perhaps with a dying flame deep sunk in its mass, anything--china, glass, amber, rock, marble--even the smooth oval egg of a prehistoric bird would do…
He could only touch it with the point of his stick through the railings; but he could see that it was a piece of china of the most remarkable shape, as nearly resembling a starfish as anything--shaped, or broken accidentally, into five irregular but unmistakable points…
At length he was forced to go back to his rooms and improvise a wire ring attached to the end of a stick, with which, by dint of great care and skill, he finally drew the piece of china within reach of his hands…
The meeting was held without him. But how had the piece of china been broken into this remarkable shape? A careful examination put it beyond doubt that the star shape was accidental, which made it all the more strange, and it seemed unlikely that there should be another such in existence…
The contrast between the china so vivid and alert, and the glass so mute and contemplative, fascinated him, and wondering and amazed he asked himself how the two came to exist in the same world…
He now began to haunt the places which are most prolific of broken china, such as pieces of waste land between railway lines, sites of demolished houses, and commons in the neighbourhood of London. But china is seldom thrown from a great height; it is one of the rarest of human actions. You have to find in conjunction a very high house, and a woman of such reckless impulse and passionate prejudice that she flings her jar or pot straight from the window without thought of who is below. Broken china was to be found in plenty, but broken in some trifling domestic accident, without purpose or character…
It weighed his pocket down; it weighed the mantelpiece down; it radiated cold. And yet the meteorite stood upon the same ledge with the lump of glass and the star-shaped china…
As his standard became higher and his taste more severe the disappointments were innumerable, but always some gleam of hope, some piece of china or glass curiously marked or broken lured him on…

1922
Woolf, Virginia. Jacob's room. (Richmond : Hogarth Press, 1922).
Chap. 3
The waiters at Trinity must have been shuffling china plates like cards, from the clatter that could be heard in the Great Court...
Chap. 6
The Greeks—yes, that was what they talked about—how when all’s said and done, when one’s rinsed one’s mouth with every literature in the world, including Chinese and Russian (but these Slavs aren’t civilized), it’s the flavour of Greek that remains...
Chap. 13
And Clara would hand the pretty china teacups, and smile at the compliment—that no one in London made tea so well as she did...

1923
Woolf, Virginia. The Chinese shoe. In : Nation & Athenaeum ; 17 Nov. (1923). In : The essays of Virginia Woolf. (London : Hogarth Press, 1986-2011). Vol. 3.
Review of Fitzpatrick, Kathleen. Lady Henry Somerset. (London : J. Cape, 1923).
"Lady Henry Somerset, her biographer says, 'came into the world with a far lagrger share of the joy of being alive' than is the lot of most. If that were so, no woman was ever more completely defrauded of her rights. The Victorian age was to blame ; her mother was to blame ; Lord Henry was to blame ; even the saintly Mr Watts was forced by fate to take part in the general conspiracy against her. Between them each natural desire of a lively and courageous nature was stunted, until we feel that the old Chinese custom of fitting the foot to the shoe was charitable compared with the mid-Victorian practice of fitting the woman to the system."

1923
Woolf, Virginia. Mrs Dalloway in Bond street. In : Dial ; vol. 75, no 1 (July 1923).
'Good morning to you!' said Hugh Whitbread raising his hat rather extravagantly by the china shop, for they had known each other as children. 'Where are you off to?'…
It was much more important, he said, to get trade with China…

1925
Woolf, Virginia. Miss Mitford. The common reader : first series. (London : Hogarth Press, 1925).
The touch about the cream, for instance, might be called historical, for it is well known that when Mary won £20,000 in the Irish lottery, the Doctor spent it all upon Wedgwood china…
Lady Dorothy Nevill. she imported rare fish; spent a great deal of energy in vainly trying to induce storks and Cornish choughs to breed in Sussex; painted on china…

1925
Woolf, Virginia. Mrs Dalloway. (London : Hogarth Press, 1925).
Devonshire House, Bath House, the house with the china cockatoo, she had seen them all lit up once; and remembered Sylvia, Fred, Sally Seton--such hosts of people; and dancing all night; and the waggons plodding past to market; and driving home across the Park…
Choosing a pair of gloves--should they be to the elbow or above it, lemon or pale grey?--ladies stopped; when the sentence was finished something had happened. Something so trifling in single instances that no mathematical instrument, though capable of transmitting shocks in China…
Of all, her mistress was loveliest--mistress of silver, of linen, of china, for the sun, the silver, doors off their hinges, Rumpelmayer's men, gave her a sense, as she laid the paper-knife on the inlaid table, of something achieved…
For the Dalloways, in general, were fair-haired; blue-eyed; Elizabeth, on the contrary, was dark; had Chinese eyes in a pale face; an Oriental mystery; was gentle, considerate, still…
It was expression she needed, but her eyes were fine, Chinese, oriental, and, as her mother said, with such nice shoulders and holding herself so straight, she was always charming to look at; and lately, in the evening especially, when she was interested, for she never seemed excited, she looked almost beautiful, very stately, very serene…
The cold stream of visual impressions failed him now as if the eye were a cup that overflowed and let the rest run down its china walls unrecorded…

1927
Woolf, Virginia. The new dress. In : The New York magazine ; May (1927). [Geschrieben 1924].
at Easter--let her recall it--a great tuft of pale sand-grass standing all twisted like a shock of spears against the sky, which was blue like a smooth china egg, so firm, so hard, and then the melody of the waves…
Barnet for helping her and wrapped herself, round and round and round, in the Chinese cloak she had worn these twenty years…

1927
Woolf, Virginia. To the lighthouse. (London : Hogarth Press, 1927).
The window.
Chap. 3
With her little Chinese eyes and her puckered-up face, she would never marry; one could not take her painting very seriously; she was an independent little creature, and Mrs. Ramsay liked her for it; so, remembering her promise, she bent her head.
Chap. 5
And now," she said, thinking that Lily's charm was her Chinese eyes, aslant in her white, puckered little face, but it would take a clever man to see it, "and now stand up, and let me measure your leg," for they might go to the Lighthouse after all, and she must see if the stocking did not need to be an inch or two longer in the leg...
Chap. 17
But, she thought, screwing up her Chinese eyes, and remembering how he sneered at women, "can't paint, can't write," why should I help him to relieve himself?...
She faded, under Minta's glow; became more inconspicuous than ever, in her little grey dress with her little puckered face and her little Chinese eyes…
The China rose is all abloom and buzzing with the yellow bee...
Chap. 19
And she waited a little, knitting, wondering, and slowly rose those words they had said at dinner, "the China rose is all abloom and buzzing with the honey bee"…
Time passes
Chap. 4
So with the house empty and the doors locked and the mattresses rolled round, those stray airs, advance guards of great armies, blustered in, brushed bare boards, nibbled and fanned, met nothing in bedroom or drawing-room that wholly resisted them but only hangings that flapped, wood that creaked, the bare legs of tables, saucepans and china already furred, tarnished, cracked...
Chap. 5
[She] began again the old amble and hobble, taking up mats, putting down china, looking sideways in the glass, as if, after all, she had her consolations, as if indeed there twined about her dirge some incorrigible hope...
Chap. 9
Let the broken glass and the china lie out on the lawn and be tangled over with grass and wild berries…
Then the roof would have fallen; briars and hemlocks would have blotted out path, step and window; would have grown, unequally but lustily over the mound, until some trespasser, losing his way, could have told only by a red-hot poker among the nettles, or a scrap of china in the hemlock, that here once some one had lived; there had been a house...
The lighthouse
Chap. 4
There was something (she stood screwing up her little Chinese eyes in her small puckered face)…
Chap. 9
There was something (she stood screwing up her little Chinese eyes in her small puckered face)…
He began following her from room to room and at last they came to a room where in a blue light, as if the reflection came from many china dishes, she talked to somebody; he listened to her talking...

1928
Woolf, Virginia. Orlando : a biography. (London : Hogarth Press, 1928).
Preface
I have had the advantage--how great I alone can estimate--of Mr Arthur Waley's knowledge of Chinese...
Chap. 2
Indeed, when Orlando came to reckon up the matter of furnishing with rosewood chairs and cedar-wood cabinets, with silver basins, china bowls, and Persian carpets…
Chap. 4
Nor could she do more as the ship sailed to its anchorage by London Bridge than glance at coffee-house windows where, on balconies, since the weather was fine, a great number of decent citizens sat at ease, with china dishes in front of them…
Moreover, said Mrs Grimsditch, over her dish of china tea, to Mr Dupper that night…
That the cup was china, or the gazette paper, she doubted…
Whether the Nymph shall break Diana's Law,
Or some frail China Jar receive a Flaw…
So then one may sketch her spending her morning in a China robe of ambiguous gender among her books…
Chap. 5
Coffee supplanted the after-dinner port, and, as coffee led to a drawing-room in which to drink it, and a drawing-room to glass cases, and glass cases to artificial flowers, and artificial flowers to mantelpieces, and mantelpieces to pianofortes, and pianofortes to drawing-room ballads, and drawing-room ballads (skipping a stage or two) to innumerable little dogs, mats, and china ornaments, the home--which had become extremely important--was completely altered…

1929
Woolf, Virginia. A room of one's own. (London : Hogarth Press, 1929).
Chap. 1
What force is behind that plain china off which we dined, and (here it popped out of my mouth before I could stop it) the beef, the custard and the prunes?...
Chap. 4
The wonder is that any book so composed holds together for more than a year or two, or can possibly mean to the English reader what it means for the Russian or the Chinese...

1931
Woolf, Virginia. The waves. (London : Hogarth Press, 1931).
'Now there are rounds of white china, and silver streaks beside each plate.'…
Everything became softly amorphous, as if the china of the plate flowed and the steel of the knife were liquid…
We listen to missionaries from China…
There again comes that rollicking chorus. They are now smashing china--that also is the convention…
Now again they are smashing the china--that is the convention…
What malevolent yet searching light would Louis throw upon this dwindling autumn evening, upon this china-smashing and trolling of hunting-songs, upon Neville, Byron and our life here?...
The veins on the glaze of the china, the grain of the wood, the fibres of the matting became more and more finely engraved. Everything was without shadow. A jar was so green that the eye seemed sucked up through a funnel by its intensity and stuck to it like a limpet…
'I like to be asked to come to Mr Burchard's private room and report on our commitments to China…
That man there, by the cabinet; he lives you say, surrounded by china pots… And since beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful, and he is static, his life stagnates in a china sea…
I drop all these facts--diamonds, withered hands, china pots and the rest of it--as a monkey drops nuts from its naked paws…
"She met him under the dark archway.'It is over,' he said, turning from the cage where the china parrot hangs."…
We may wander to a lake and watch Chinese geese waddling flat-footed to the water's edge or see a bone-like city church with young green trembling before it…
Each sight is an arabesque scrawled suddenly to illustrate some hazard and marvel of intimacy. The snow, the burst pipe, the tin bath, the Chinese goose--these are signs swung high aloft upon which, looking back, I read the character of each love; how each was different…

1933
Woolf, Virginia. Flush : a biography. (London : Hogarth Press, 1933).
A million airs from China, from Arabia, wafted their frail incense into the remotest fibres of his senses…
Just as an English peer who has lived a lifetime in the East and contracted some of the habits of the natives--rumour hints indeed that he has turned Moslem and had a son by a Chinese washerwoman--finds, when he takes his place at Court…

1937
Woolf, Virginia. The years. (London : Hogarth Press, 1937).
Opposite them stood a Dutch cabinet with blue china on the shelves; the sun of the April evening made a bright stain here and there on the glass…
There was a sudden roar of laughter; then the tinkle of a piano; then a nondescript clatter and chatter--of china partly…
It was bare yet crowded. The table was too large; there were hard green-plush chairs; yet the table-cloth was coarse; darned in the middle; and the china was cheap with its florid red roses….
Here she was again in the paved alley; there were the old curiosity shops with their blue china and their brass warming-pans…
She granted, as she looked round, the superiority of the Lodge china and silver; and the Japanese plates and the picture had been hideous; but this dining-room with its hanging creepers and its vast cracked canvases was so dark…
There it was, sure enough. All the same, the party from China took a fancy to it…
And here am I, she thought, looking at the china in the Dutch cabinet, in this drawing-room, getting a little spark from what someone said all those years ago--here it comes (the china was changing from blue to livid) skipping over all those mountains, all those seas…
The smooth hard surface of the china with its red flowers seemed to her for a second a marvellous mystery…
Like everything English, she thought, laying down her umbrella on the refectory table beside the china bowl, with dried rose leaves in it, the past seemed near, domestic, friendly…
A nice vase of flowers stood on the dressing-table; there was the polished wardrobe and a china box by her bedside…
He stood at the window for a moment admiring a lady of fashion in a charming hat who was looking at a pot in the curiosity shop opposite. It was a blue pot on a Chinese stand with green brocade behind it…
They paused for a moment to look at a tree that was covered with pink blossoms in a china tub standing at the door…
The table, with the gay china and the lamp, seemed ringed in a circle of bright light as she turned back…
"Just back from India," he added. "A present from Bengal, eh?" he said, referring to the cloak. "And next year she's off to China," said Peggy...

1940
Woolf, Virginia. Roger Fry : a biography. (London : Hogarth Press, 1940).
He also painted modestly, economically. With penny moist paints and twopenny Chinese white and penny brushes he decorated "two sweet little terra-cott plates 95 with pictures of flowers…
A pile of books "as high as the tower of Babel and as intelligible I expect stood on his table. Among them, however, was Letters to John Chinaman, by Lowes Dickinson…
Chinese pictures rather recently imported and an immense eighteenth-century carpet spread all over the floor…
Half-consciously he would stretch out a hand and begin to alier the flowers in a vase, or pick up a bit of china, turn it round and put it down again…
Pots were bought and coloured handkerchiefs, and he pointed out how the bold crude pattern was based on some half-forgotten tradition Russian or Greek, or Chinese?...
And though the Orient Express was crowded, and a truculent Colonel, whom Roger Fry sized up correctly at first sight, refused to give up his comer seat had he not said that he would? he contrived somehow to convey an invalid who could not stand and a freight of fragile china successfully across Europe…
All sorts of people were coming down Princess Lichnowsky, Lady Ottoline Morrell, G. L. Dickinson, a Chinese poet, a French poet, business men young artists…
Then he is off to Poole, to practise throwing, glazing and painting on china…
House-moving was an arduous occupation in the early days of peace; the price of linoleum, he groaned, was exorbitant; firm after firm refused to move his furniture; but at last two meat vans hired at Smithfield arrived at Durbins, and under Ms supervision porters who reeked of blood but were charming characters nevertheless removed the Chinese statues, the Italian cabinets, the negro masks and all the pots and plates that had made the big
rooms at Durbins glow with so many different colours…
the Victorian wall-paper was dabbed out with a stencil; and there in the garden for there was a "beautifully designed garden which stretches away for ever" by the side of a fountain presided over by a Chinese deity under the austere gaze of the tower of Holloway Jail he sat writing an article for the Athenaeum…
"Je suis sur que je ne me trompe pas à Paris j'ai trouve un artiste jusqu'alors presqu' inconnu pour moi, Rouault, qui est surement un des grands genies de tous les temps. Je ne pen comparer ses dessins qu’à l'art Tang des Chinois dont il nous reste seulement quelques specimens"…
In the house; there was the dining-room, looking out over the garden where his favourite irises nodded over the fountain presided over by the Chinese statue…
Then there was the great lady, the patroness of art, who confronted with a blue Picasso, emitted "one of the great sayings of the century. Well, if you call them Chinese, I think they're beautiful, but if you call them French, I think they're quite stupid...
He would show "hordes of school marms from the U.S.A. armed with note-books seeking information", round his rooms; and then "a very intelligent young man from Manchester" who was interested in Chinese pottery…
And so at last the books came out one after another the books on French art, and Flemish art and British art; the books on separate painters; the books on whole periods of art; the essays upon Persian art and Chinese art and Russian art…
There was the Derain picture of a spectral dog in ttie snow; the blue Matisse picture of ships in harbour. And there were the negro masks and the Chinese statues, and ail the plates the rare Persian china and the cheap peasant pottery that he had picked up for a farthing at a fair…
"I shall be compelled to work out some of my ideas more fully." Soon he was "head over ears in Chinese art, and hardly know how to get through in time there's so much for me to learn. Here the phrase of the Chinese philosopher makes itself heard: "I homme natural resiste a la nature des choses, celui qui connait le Lao coule par les interstices"...

1941
Woolf, Virginia. Between the acts. (London : Hogarth Press, 1941).
It took her five seconds in actual time, in mind time ever so much longer, to separate Grace herself, with blue china on a tray…
She laid hold of a thick china mug…
The Barn filled. Fumes rose. China clattered; voices chattered. Isa pressed her way to the table…
She took it. "Let me turn away," she murmured, turning, "from the array"--she looked desolately round her--"of china faces, glazed and hard…
The noise of china and chatter drowned her murmur…
On the table they placed a china tea service…
The Chinese, you know, put a dagger on the table and that's a battle…
Nor the chatter of china faces glazed and hard…

1942
Woolf Virginia. Street haunting : a London adventure. In : Woolf, Virginia. The death of the moth and other essays. (London : Hogarth Press, 1942). [Geschriebne 1930].
"Take it!" she cried, and thrust the blue and white china bowl into our hands as if she never wanted to be reminded of her quixotic generosity…
All this--Italy, the windy morning, the vines laced about the pillars, the Englishman and the secrets of his over desks where clerks sit turning with wetted forefinger the files of endless correspondences; or more suffusedly the firelight wavers and the lamplight falls upon the privacy of some drawing-room, its easy chairs, its papers, its china, its inlaid table, and the figure of a woman soul--rise up in a cloud from the china bowl on the mantelpiece…
In what crevices and crannies, one might ask, did they lodge, this maimed company of the halt and the blind? Here, perhaps, in the top rooms of these narrow old houses between Holborn and Soho, where people have such queer names, and pursue so many curious trades, are gold beaters, accordion pleaters, cover buttons, or support life, with even greater fantasticality, upon a traffic in cups without saucers, china umbrella handles, and highly-coloured pictures of martyred saints…
This packing up and going off, exploring deserts and catching fevers, settling in India for a lifetime, penetrating even to China and then returning to lead a parochial life at Edmonton…
Here again is the usual door; here the chair turned as we left it and the china bowl and the brown ring on the carpet…

1942
Woolf, Virginia. Three pictures. In : Woolf, Virginia. The death of th4e moth and other essays. (London : Hogarth Press, 1942). [Geschrieben 1929].
A fine young sailor carrying a bundle; a girl with her hand on his arm; neighbours gathering round; a cottage garden ablaze with flowers; as one passed one read at the bottom of that picture that the sailor was back from China, and there was a fine spread waiting for him in the parlour; and he had a present for his young wife in his bundle; and she was soon going to bear him their first child…
The imagination supplied other pictures springing from that first one, a picture of the sailor cutting firewood, drawing water; and they talked about China; and the girl set his present on the chimney-piece where everyone who came could see it; and she sewed at her baby clothes, and all the doors and windows were open into the garden so that the birds were flittering and the bees humming, and Rogers--that was his name--could not say how much to his liking all this was after the China seas...

1944
Woolf, Virginia. The legacy. In : Woolf, Virginia. A haunted house and other stories. (London : Hogarth press, 1944).
Every ring, every necklace, every little Chinese box--she had a passion for little boxes--had a name on it…

1944
Woolf, Virginia. The man who lived his kind. In : Woolf, Virginia. A haunted house and other stories. (London : Hogarth press, 1944).
And Prickett Ellis feeling something rise within him which would decapitate this young woman, make a victim of her, massacre her, made her sit down there, where they would not be interrupted, on two chairs, in the empty garden, for everyone was upstairs, only you could hear a buzz and a hum and a chatter and a jingle, like the mad accompaniment of some phantom orchestra to a cat or two slinking across the grass, and the wavering of leaves, and the yellow and red fruit like Chinese lanterns wobbling this way and that--the talk seemed like a frantic skeleton dance music set to something very real, and full of suffering…

1944
Woolf, Virginia. Moments of being. In : Woolf, Virginia. A haunted house and other stories. (London : Hogarth press, 1944).
the china tea cups and the silver candlesticks and the inlaid table, for the Crayes had such nice things, were wonderful…

1944
Woolf, Virginia. . summing up. In : Woolf, Virginia. A haunted house and other stories. (London : Hogarth press, 1944).
Since it had grown hot and crowded indoors, since there could be no danger on a night like this of damp, since the Chinese lanterns seemed hung red and green fruit in the depths of an enchanted forest, Mr. Bertram Pritchard led Mrs. Latham into the garden…

Fritz Max Weiss und seine Frau müssen China verlassen.

Lowell, Amy. An observer in China : Profiles from China by Eunice Tietjens : review [ID D32294].
I read that book through three times before I put it down, and the next ay I read it again. Then I waited some weeks and read it once more ; the charm remained. That charm of something new, sincere, an original thought expressed personally and vividly.
Profiles from China is strong and free, and is evidence of a rare psychological insight. As interpretations of Chinese character, these poems are of only the slightes interest ; it is as pictures of the fundamental antagonism of the East and the West that they are important. The poet makes no pretence at an esoteric sympathy which she does not possess. Her complete sincerity is not the least of the volume's excellencies. Only in the section 'Echoes', is there the slightest preoccupation with the native point of view, and although there is here much Chinese decoration, such as 'the fifth day of the fifth month ', 'the tiny footfalls of the fox-maidens ', and 'the hour of the horse ', still these poems remain rather as exercise in the Chinese manner, than as an intimate fusing of the author's ego with that of China.
There is not a word too much in these poems. They are sharp and beautiful, and extraordinarily satisfying. One of the best is 'On a Canton River Boat'.
Mrs. Tietjens is more than modern or 'new' ; she is herself. Her kind of poetry is distinctly hers, a perfectly natural utterance. This book deserves high praise and is an earnest of future accomplishment.

Bynner, Witter. The selected Witter Bynner [ID D32346].
1917
Letter from Witter Bynner to Barry Faulkner ; Shanghai, May 22 / 27 (1917).
Korea was exciting - but Peking is almost everything. I can't get my breath from the wonder of it. Japan is but bothersome dust in the nostrils of the dragon.
Thank heaven I was away and this far away when the Thing happened [The US declared a state of war on April 6] ! I can get a clearer view of its large aspects and better find my own place than if I had been on the spot of agitation. China's holy mountains counseling across deserts of ancient dead bid the soul smile at the hand. An so I cannot feel excitement or ardor – or even as yet resignation… China still stirs me to the depths – Japan (Kobe) seemed strange this morning, exquisite, clean, courteaous, suave, civilized, assured after that vast magnificent chaos.

1920
Letter from Witter Bynner to Haniel Long ; China, Aug. 1 (1920).
Settled at last—in just the place I had dreamed of! On the top of a mountain, whispering with bamboos and our own waterfall, brilliant hot with sun, cool with moon; and before us, or rather under us precipitate, and then reaching far off, glimmer by glimmer, to the sea the sublimest landscape I have ever seen from a dwelling, all the Chinese mountain paintings put end to end, enchanted with mists and with unearthly green, blessed with great rainbows, guarded by fantastic deities of cloud: quiet folds and folds of healing, always another fold!
Our luck was prodigious. The heat in China is all that is said of it. Six days in Shanghai, though important after my fatuous misconception of Shanghai as uninteresting, wilted us into wet beings almost unbalanced. Kiang was to take us to West Lake (Si Wu) for refuge; but the day before the day we had planned, in a blind rush which may only be described as panic, we fled to Hangchou (two miles from West Lake) not even letting Kiang know. We lacked his address; but a day was more than we could wait, so off we went, leaving a brief note of farewell. Kiang and I had talked for two years of visiting Si Wu together, a place rich with beauties and memories, a haunt of our poets; and yet it was a week before I could manage to send him word as to what had become of us. I tell you this to show you that there is a kind of madness in the weather. Hangchou was as bad as Shanghai, and after one day the Fickes fled again, to Mokanshan, a mountain of whose coolness we had heard. I, in a kind of spell, stayed behind and for three days in a city of 350,000 Chinese saw the faces of only three foreigners. I had moved to a native hotel and, consumed with heat and mosquitoes and unable to sleep much on the bed of slung matting, was physically miserable. Fortunately I like the food and, clad in only a long linen Chinese coat, ate it on my own picturesque little balcony—ardently companioned by two Chinese students of twenty who had come to my rescue with a little English on the roof of the Hangchou hotel, where I was listening, my first night there, to some singsong girls. The two likable lads were with me after that from dawn to eve, my guides, my bargainers, my friends. In return I paid their slight expenses on our jaunts and taught them English. With the elder and abler I became more and more charmed. His gentleness, his courtesy, his fine young integrity are interwoven for me with the beauty and wonder of West Lake. There is plenty of age in China ; I was glad of some youth. And I realized again, as I realize often in my experience, that the accidental move, the inexplicable, even the unintelligent, like this running away from dear Kiang, brings a happy outcome and adds to the general good. I needed, for instance, to discover for myself, anonymously, so to speak, without introduction, the simple beautiful humanness of a Chinese. And there it was, written quick for me, a new verse in my gospel. Incidentally I discovered him on the edge of Christianity and discouraged him for all I was worth from differentiating among the wise and appointed teachers, from singling one of them out to the disparagement of the others, from yielding one jot of his birthright in Confucius, in Buddha, in Laotzu. There was a glad light in our eyes, and I knew for a moment the joy of being a missionary. When Nieh's vacation ended, so did mine; and I followed the Fickes to this rare place where we have taken a house and are at regular work again. Kiang will be joining us in a month (we are here till the 15th of September), and I shall have all I can do to put the first volume of Chinese poems into shape for his final revision. That means that I must renounce letter writing, in spite of all I have to say to you and a few others; but I could not rest nor work without sending you just this fond word to let you know of my happiness and of my love for you. I am hoping, before long, to hear from you that you are in patience with me again. I will not have it otherwise. Someday in a place like this you will be in person with me and there shall be long rich exchanges. Or perhaps something will bring about our living together in Berkeley; for that is where I wish eventually to have my being. I have even broached it to mother. I had rather be underground in Berkeley than above ground in New York. There will be difficulties; but I am not afraid of difficulties any more: I have a steadier spirit than once I had and a little money. Meantime this is what I wanted. I took it, and I am glad. China has much more to teach me at present than America. The discouragements in both places are the same: the greed of an eminent few corrupting the simple decency of the many. The marvel is how much a few can accomplish, whether for evil or for good. With a reminder to you that people may be hypocritical but that books are more so and with my two arms out to the three of you.

1920
Letter from Witter Bynner to Edna St. Vincent Millay ; Shanghai, Sept. 10 (1920).
… I have written you another poem. I enclose it. It is not so much about you as about the holy wonders of this place, this Chinese mountaintop. In Japan, nature is material for artistic man ; here man is material for artistic nature. I shall try to explain it some time in verse, but I shall fail. I wish you were here to do it. I do not think of anyone else who could.
For Edna.
From a Mountain in China
To the Young Poet Millay
If I sent in a flash these hills to you
Would you be hushed like me ?
Or must one's heart fill with a view
Gradually?
And might you merely nod your head,
Accepting as your due
Valleys not to be mistreated
Even by you –
And not to be sent to you by me,
No matter what I said
Or sang or painted? Let it be.
The wish is dead.

1921
Letter from Witter Bynner to Albert M. Bender ; Shanghai, Jan. 2 (1921).
Your kindnesses heap up like the cliffs along the Yang-tse Gorges and darken my conscience. I do not deserve them. But that would be the last of your considerations, wouldn't it !...
Kiang, according to the strange ways of life, I have only just found, again after four months. He is lecturing everywhere, enormously popular, offered governorships, etc. – and yet suspect and ahadowed as a former Socialist and possible future Bolshevik. Dewey I have played with ; and I have enjoyed and admired Bertrand Russell. The month ahead is to be intensive work with Kiang in Peking, whither I return from Shanghai as soon as I have dispatched mby friend, Mrs. Simeon Ford, with a note to you… I'll be lodging in Peking by another quirk of fortune, in the Chinese house of George Atcheson, one of my poetry pupils. He is a student-interpreter at the American Legation and is living there in one of the beautiful small buildings of what was formerly a fine old temple. I think I sail on February 28 for S.F.; but I never know much of anything – except that you and Anne are among those closest to the heart of.

1923
Letter from Witter Bynner to Kiang Kang-hu ; Hotel Arzapalo, Chapala, July 20 (1923).
… Thanks for you comment on the Li Po translations. I enclose you a letter from a Chinese student, S.Y. Chu, with a referenct to Li Po's 'A song of Chang-Kan'. In it you will find some penciled queries which I wish you would answer. Long ago, by the way, I sent you a complete list of the poets in our anthology asking you to fill in such dates as I lacked. I wonder if that list failed to reach you. I enclose another.
The book progresses a little more rapidly ; and as I have said before, the delay is advantageous for us in the fact that many of the poems are appearing in magazines and giving the volue, before its issue, a growing prestige.
The question of notes troubles me. It seems to me that figures set here and there against words in the text are disfiguring and distracting. Hence I am arranging our note system and am thinking seriously of a geographical index at the back of the book in which those interested might find the modern equivalenst of T'ang places. The difficulty would be that some of these T'ang names, like Wu, mean in different poems, different places. In the case of such names I should have to differentiate and make specific references to the poems in which they appear. I mention this because I wish you would take pains on the group of manuscripts I am sending you today under separate cover, to set down the modern names of places for such us as I propose. You may either return me the manuscripts with your comments or send me the comments in a letter carefully listing them under the titles. From time to time as I can supply you with copies, I shall send you other groups of the poems, hoping thereby to save extensive revision on the proofs, and consequent expense. Please notice that I wish your supervision on the printed poems as well as those typed… Hoping to be in China within two years…

1931
Letter from Witter Bynner to Miss MacKinnon ; Santa Fe, July 20 (1931).
[Betr. Fir-flower tablets by Amy Lowell and Florence Ayscough].
The third question is more difficult. I should say, first of all, that I consider my method more faithful to the balanced meaning of the original than Mrs. Ayscough's method. Suppose, for instance, the radical meaning of composite English words were translated into a for¬eign tongue—suppose "extravagant terms" were translated "beyond- straying terms" or "at daybreak" "when the day cracked"—then you might have a literal translation of what, in English, correspond to a combination of root strokes in a Chinese character; but the meaning and stress of the word in its context would be distorted and swollen beyond the intent of the author. It is true that a Chinese scholar pleasingly feels in an ideograph the two or three roots that make the meaning. It is true also that a Western scholar feels, say, in a word made from Greek or Latin the interesting original courtship of images which have quieted into a final everyday marriage of meaning. The Chinese character for "quarrel" indicates two women under one roof; but imagine translating it that way. Equally absurd is it to say "upper and lower garments" when the character, though literally conveying that, means "clothes."
I made my translations from literal texts given me by Dr. Kiang —or my other Chinese friends. Their phrases were often, of course, odd and tickling to the fancy. My constant effort, however, was to I let detailed fancy go, for the sake of the imagination behind the poem—to find as nearly as I could, the exact English equivalent of, the Chinese word—the real rather than the literal translation—that I is if "literal translation" means translating parts of words and then | binding the parts of words into phrases rather than translating the customary finished meaning of the composite word. In a way, I was lucky in not knowing the Chinese language. A moderate knowledge might have tempted me astray from poetry into etymology.
My first interest in Chinese poetry came from Chinese friends whom I met in California during 1917 and 1918. With their help I translated "ancient" poems (mostly from the Confucian "Book of Poetry", I believe) which appear in my "Canticle of Pan" (Knopf). In 1918, Dr. Kiang (on the faculty of the University of California, as I was) initiated me deeper into the realm, and ever since then I have been working with him on "The Jade Mountain", which the Chinese call "modern" poetry. Before that, in 1916, on my first trip to China, I had been drawn to its poetry by stanzas written on the earliest acquired of my collection of Chinese paintings. Some day I shall translate those inscriptions.

1962
1962
Letter from Witter Bynner to Mabel MacDonald Carver ; June 12 (1962).
[Kiang Kang-hu is believed to have died in prison in Shanghai on December 6 or 7, 1954].
Poor Kiang made the grave error of accepting the secretaryship of education in the cabinet of Henry Pu Yi in the Manchukuo, called the Puppet Government. Kiang insisted to the end that he merely wished to keep the youngsters in his country educated, while subject ot Japan, and that he hever was in the least politically active. Unfortunately, the Nationalists did not take it that way and put the man in jail where later the Communists kept him until his tragic death there. A am amazed that my inscribed copy of The way of life was allowed to reach the prisoner and his note about it allowed to reach me. The sad en was when a note of his did reach his daughter living in China, asking her if she could bring him some candy. She did, only to be told by an official at the prison : Your father died last nith of malnutrition. They did not even return her the candy.

1964
Letter from Witter Bynner to Ruth Witt-Diamant ; Santa Fe, Aug. 7 (1964).
… I envy you the life in Japan. In 1917 and 1920, when I wen there and to China, I found the beauty and assuagements of Japan very pleasant both before entering, and after leaving China. I think an indication of what was a bit difficult was the fact that in Japan, for all the slight squirming and giggling, I was never sure whether or not we were seeing and feeling with the same humor, whereas in China the mirth bottle would pop with champagne. Perhaps this Japanese eagerness to be laughing with us has reached through the years toward an inclination to be laughing at us. When I was in the Orient, I thought it would have taken very little decency for us to earn and keep a warm liking from the Chinese people, whereas the Japanese largely baffled me with their apparent eagerness toward a liking they could not really muster. And I shoud say that on the whole we Americans were better then all round than we are now – both more real and more civilized. But as I say I wish I could go again to the Orient.

Amy Lowell was invited by Florence Ayscough during one of her customary visits to America, to shape into poetry, her transliterations of Chinese poems, whch would accompany the exhibition of Ayscough's own collection of Chinese paintings (now at the Art Museum Chicaco). Lowell grew enthusiastic about the reading of Chinese poetry and about a translation project with her old friend.

London, Jack. The human drift. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1917).
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1669/1669.txt
Asia has thrown forth great waves of hungry humans from the prehistoric "round-barrow" "broad-heads" who overran Europe and penetrated to Scandinavia and England, down through the hordes of Attila and Tamerlane, to the present immigration of Chinese and Japanese that threatens America…
And in this day the drift of the races continues, whether it be of Chinese into the Philippines and the Malay Peninsula, of Europeans to the United States or of Americans to the wheatlands of Manitoba and the Northwest…
The T'ai'ping rebellion and the Mohammedan rebellion, combined with the famine of 1877-78, destroyed scores of millions of Chinese…
In China, between three and six millions of infants are annually destroyed, while the total infanticide record of the whole world is appalling…
And, sword in hand, killing and being killed, she has carved out for herself Formosa and Korea, and driven the vanguard of her drift far into the rich interior of Manchuria. For an immense period of time China's population has remained at 400,000,000--the saturation point. The only reason that the Yellow River periodically drowns millions of Chinese is that there is no other land for those millions to farm. And after every such catastrophe the wave of human life rolls up and now millions flood out upon that precarious territory. They are driven to it, because they are pressed remorselessly against subsistence. It is inevitable that China, sooner or later, like Japan, will learn and put into application our own superior food-getting efficiency. And when that time comes, it is likewise inevitable that her population will increase by unguessed millions until it again reaches the saturation point. And then, inoculated with Western ideas, may she not, like Japan, take sword in hand and start forth colossally on a drift of her own for more room? This is another reputed bogie--the Yellow Peril; yet the men of China are only men, like any other race of men, and all men, down all history, have drifted hungrily, here, there and everywhere over the planet, seeking for something to eat. What other men do, may not the Chinese do?...
When this day comes, what then? Will there be a recrudescence of old obsolete war? In a saturated population life is always cheap, as it is
cheap in China, in India, to-day…

London, Jack. Michael, brother of Jerry. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1917).
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1730/1730.txt
Fifty dollars in the way the Yankees reckon it, an' a hundred Mex in China fashion…
"You likee this piecee bunk?" the cook, a little old Chinaman, asked the steward with eager humility, inviting the white man's acceptance of his own bunk with a wave of arm…
Daughtry shook his head. He had early learned that it was wise to get along well with sea-cooks, since sea-cocks were notoriously given to going suddenly lunatic and slicing and hacking up their shipmates with butcher knives and meat cleavers on the slightest remembered provocation. Besides, there was an equally good bunk all the way across the width of the steerage from the Chinaman's…
Daughtry had a sense that the cook, whose name had been quickly volunteered as Ah Moy, was not entirely satisfied with the arrangement; but it affected him no more than a momentary curiosity about a Chinaman who drew the line at a dog taking a bunk in the same apartment with him…
Daughtry dismissed the matter from his thoughts as no more than a thing in keeping with the general inscrutability of the Chinese mind…
After that came a farrago of Chinese, so like the voice of Ah Moy, that again, though for the last time, Michael sought about the steerage for the utterer…
Ah Moy was eager in his haste to leap into the bow. Nor was Daughtry's judgment correct that the little Chinaman's haste was due to fear of the sinking ship…
It caught their fancy that this boat was the Ark, what of its freightage of bedding, dry goods boxes, beer-cases, a cat, two dogs, a white cockatoo, a Chinaman, a kinky-headed black, a gangly pallid-haired giant, a grizzled Dag Daughtry, and an Ancient Mariner who looked every inch the part…
Ah Moy got no farther ashore than the detention sheds of the Federal Immigration Board, whence he was deported to China on the next Pacific Mail steamer…
In short, the "Coast" was as much a sight-seeing place as was Chinatown and the Cliff House…
Ah Moy, had he not long since been delivered back to China by the immigration authorities, could have told him the meaning of that swelling, just as he could have told Dag Daughtry the meaning of the increasing area of numbness between his eyes where the tiny, vertical, lion-lines were cutting more conspicuously…

Iulian Shchutskii verlässt das Polytechnic Institute in St. Petersburg.

Chen, Duxiu. Wen xue ge ming lun [ID D11258].
Chen initated the search for China's Hugo, Zola, Goethe, Hauptmann, Dickens and Wilde. Expressing boundless admiration for Russian literature, which he believed was superior to any other by virtue of its deep concern for suffering humanity and which to his mind was permeated with the qualities of sympathy, fraternity, pity, charity and love.

Paul Klee is reading Chinese poetry. En 1917 he is writing to his wife : J'ai le temps de lire beaucoup, et je deviens de plus en plus chinois'.
At this time he painted a series of marvellous landscapes in which the trees and mountains seem, like thouse in a Chinese painting, to stand for some archetypal forms.

Edward Hyers Clayton ist als Missionar in Huzhou.