The vast collection of the Metropolitan Museum is effectively arranged and integrated on the www.metmuseum.org website. Navigation of the site is straightforward, enabling efficient browsing or research. Although no specific essays or exhibits on children and youth are found on the site, several hundred artworks relevant to the topic can be located by searching the Collection Database or the Timeline of Art History (TOAH)—more than sites dedicated to the subject.

The Collection Database of 129,022 objects can be searched as a whole, by subject, by curatorial department, or by exhibit. The collection database search is comprehensive, and returned 3629 entries under "children." Childe Hassam is a distracter in this keyword search, but the search "Children NOT Childe" reduced the return to 319 items. "Boy" returned many distracters, but "girl" returned 954 items, and "infant" returned 252 items. "Toys" returned only 21 items, indicating a limitation of the museum's collection in that area. "Youth" returned 186 works and "young" 1741 items. The biggest drawback of the collection search was that many of the works are associated with placeholder images, although the metadata may help locate images elsewhere. As digitization of the collection proceeds, this may improve.

The TOAH is an unmatched resource for educators. The 6,000 included artworks are organized by three integrated elements: maps, timelines, and thematic essays. World and regional maps correlate artwork to eleven world eras and locate it in ten world regions. Timelines place the artworks in historical context, and include key events, political, stylistic and technological periodization. Eight hundred thematic essays provide historical context for groups of artwork and discuss characteristics, techniques, and significance. The essays reveal connections among civilizations and regions, and provide material for comparative study.

Educators searching for information on children in art can locate artworks featuring children and youth by a search of the TOAH, which seems more rewarding than the database search because all of the works are associated with images, and they are easily placed in context by TOAH's features. The searches are conveniently shown by category, so the user can bring up all relevant artworks, essays, timelines or other occurrences with one click.

A TOAH search of "children" found the term in 23 timelines, 153 thematic essays, and 396 works of art. "Figure, Child" in the Subject Index returned 21 essays and 80 works of art, each shown as a thumbnail image with titles. On the subject of childbirth, 15 artworks can be viewed. Terms such as "girl" (97 works), "boy" (9) and "young" or "youth" (4) returned artworks from across the globe and the eras.

An activity using the 97 artworks under "girl" might compare the relative age connoted by the term in various cultures and periods. Some depict small children, while others are clearly young women. A selection of western European drawings and paintings could focus on the changing definition of girlhood over time or explore symbols and objects associated with girlhood. Some of the artworks show girls in active social roles, playing sports and games, fulfilling ritual roles, or being mourned in funerary works. Some of the works are expressions of girls' work in various societies, such as needlework, preparation of trousseaus, or manual labor at home. In short, the collection can be used to gather ideas about girlhood over time and across cultures. Similar explorations about youth and boys could be made. Educators will find many ways to place childhood in historical context using this website.

THE TAOIST PRIEST OF LAO-SHAN

There lived in our village a Mr. Want, the seventh son in an old family. This gentleman had a penchant for the Taoist religion; and hearing that at Lao-shan there were plenty of Immortals, 1 shouldered his knapsack and went off for a tour thither. Ascending a peak of the mountain he reached a secluded monastery, where he found a priest sitting on a rush mat, with long hair flowing over his neck, and a pleasant expression on his face. Making a low bow, Wang addressed him thus: "Mysterious indeed is the doctrine: I pray you, Sir, instruct me therein." "Delicately nurtured and wanting in energy as you are," replied the priest, "I fear you could not support the fatigue." "Try me," said Wang. So when the disciples who were very many in number collected together at dusk, Wang joined them in making obeisance to the priest, and remained with them in the monastery. Very early next morning the priest summoned Wang, and giving him a hatchet sent him out with the others to cut firewood. Wang respectfully obeyed, continuing to work for over a month until his hands and feet were so swollen and blistered that he secretly meditated returning home. One evening when he came back he found two strangers sitting drinking with his master. It being already dark, and no lamp or candles having been brought in, the old priest took some scissors and cut out a circular piece of paper like a mirror, which he proceeded to stick against the wall. Immediately it became a dazzling moon, by the light of which you could have seen a hair or a beard of corn. The disciples all came crowding round to wait upon them, but one of the strangers said, "On a festive occasion like this we out all to enjoy ourselves together." Accordingly he took a kettle of wine from the table and presented it to the disciples, bidding them to drink each his fill; whereupon our friend Wang began to wonder how seven or eight of them could all be served out of a single kettle. The disciples, too, rushed about in search of cups, each struggling to get the first drink for fear the wine would be exhausted. Nevertheless, all the candidates failed to empty the kettle, at which they were very much astonished, when suddenly one of the strangers said, "You have given us a fight bright moon; but it's dull work drinking by ourselves. Why not call Ch'ang-ngo 2 to join us?" He then seized a chop-stick and threw it into the moon, whereupon a lovely girl stepped forth from its beams. At first she was only a foot high, but on reaching the ground lengthened to the ordinary size of woman. She had a slender waist and a beautiful neck, and went most gracefully through the Red Garment figure. 3 When this was finished she sang the following words:–

Ye fairies! ye fairies! I'm coming back soon,
Too lonely and cold is my home in the moon.

Her voice was clear and well sustained, ringing like the notes of a flageolet, and when she had concluded her song she pirouetted round and jumped up on the table, where, with every eye fixed in astonishment upon her, she once more became a chop-stick. The three friends laughed loudly, and one of them said, "We are very jolly to-night, but I have hardly room for any more wine. Will you drink a parting glass with me in the palace of the moon?" They then took up the table and walked into the moon, where they could be seen drinking so plainly that their eyebrows and beards appeared like reflections in a looking-glass. By-and-by the moon became obscured; and when the disciples brought a lighted candle they found the priest sitting in the dark alone. The viands, however, were still upon the table and the mirror-like piece of paper on the wall. "Have you all had enough to drink?" asked the priest; to which they answered that they had. "In that case," said he, "you had better get to bed so as not to be behind-hand with your wood-cutting in the morning." So they all went off, and among them Wang, who was delighted at what he had seen, and thought no more of returning home. But after a time he could not stand it any longer; and as the priest taught him no magical arts he determined not to wait, but went to him and said, "Sir, I have traveled many long miles for the benefit of your instruction. If you will not teach me the secret of Immortality, let me at any rate learn some trifling trick, and thus soothe my cravings for a knowledge of your art. I have now been here two or three months, doing nothing but chopping firewood, out of in the morning and back at night, work to which I was never accustomed in my own home." "Did I not tell you," replied the priest, "that you would never support the fatigue? To-morrow I will start you on your way home." "Sir," said Wang, "I have worked for you a long time. Teach me some small art, that my coming here may not have been wholly in vain." "What art?" asked the priest. "Well," answered Wang, "I have noticed that whenever you walk about anywhere, walls and so on are no obstacle to you. Teach me this, and I'll be satisfied." The priest laughingly assented, and taught Wang a formula which he bade him recite. When he had done so he told him to walk through the wall; but Wang, seeing the wall in front of him, didn't like to walk at it. As, however, the priest bade him try, he walked quietly up to it and was there stopped. The priest here called out, "Don't go so slowly. Put your head down and rush at it." So Wang stepped back a few paces and went at it full speed; and the wall yielding to him as he passed, in a moment he found himself outside. Delighted at this, he went back to thank the priest, who told him to be careful in the use of his power, or otherwise there would be no response, handing him at the same time some money for his expenses on the way. When Wang got home, he went about bragging of his Taoist friends and his contempt for walls in general; but as his wife disbelieved his story, he set about going through the performance as before. Stepping back form the wall, he rushed at it full speed with his head down; but coming in contact with the hard bricks, finished up in a heap on the floor. His wife picked him up and found he had a bump on his forehead as big as a large egg, at which she roared with laughter; but Wang was overwhelmed with rage and shame, and cursed the old priest for his base ingratitude.

The Red Shoes

Once there was a little Girl – so delicate and pretty. Because she was poor, she had to go barefoot in the summer, and in the winter she had to wear big wooden shoes that rubbed against her instep until her little feet became quite red. It was awful.

Old Mother shoemaker lived in the middle of the village and used strips of old red cloth to sew a small pair of shoes as best as she could. They were crudely made, but she meant well, and she wanted the little girl to have them. The little girl's name was Karen.

On the very day that her mother was buried, Karen wore these red shoes for the first time. Of course, they were not the right thing to wear for mourning, but she did not have any other shoes. So she put them on her bare feet and followed the lowly straw coffin.

At that very moment a large old carriage passed by, with a large old woman inside. She looked at Karen and felt sorry for her. She said to the vicar, "Listen, let me have the little girl and I'll be good to her."

Karen thought that all this happened because of the red shoes, but the old lady said that they were hideous. The shoes were burned and Karen given neat, clean clothes. Now she had to learn to read and sew, and people said that she was pretty. But the mirror said, "You're much more than pretty – you're beautiful!"

One day the queen traveled through the country with her little daughter who was a princess. People swarmed outside the castle – Karen was there too – and the princess, dressed in fine white clothing, stood in a window and let people admire her. The princess did not have a train or a gold crown, but she did have lovely red shoes, made of fine leather. They certainly looked a lot nicer than the ones that Mother Shoemaker had made for Karen. There was really nothing in the world like red shoes.

Eventually, Karen was old enough to be confirmed. She got new clothes and was supposed to get new shoes. The rich shoemaker who lived in town measured her little foot; his shop was in his house where large glass cases were filled with pretty shoes and shiny boots. It looked very nice, but the old woman could not see very well, so she got no pleasure from it. Among the shoes was a red pair, just like the ones the princess had worn. They were exquisite! And sure enough, the shoemaker said that he had sewn them for a nobleman's daughter, but they hadn't fit.

"It must be patent leather," the old lady said. "They are so shiny!"

"Yes, they are shiny," Karen said. They fit her, and they bought them, but the old lady didn't realize that they were red. She would never have allowed Karen to be confirmed in red shoes. Still, that is what happened.

Everyone looked at Karen's feet when she walked through the church to the choir door. Karen thought that even the ole pictures on the tombs – those portraits of vicars and vicars' wives, with stiff collars and long black robes – stared at her red shoes. She could think only about those shoes – even when the vicar put his hand on her head and talked about the holy baptism, about the covenant with God, and how she was about to become a grown-up Christian. The organ played solemnly, the children's choir sounded beautiful, and the old cantor sang, but Karen could think of nothing but her red shoes.

By afternoon everyone had told the old lady that Karen's shoes were red. The old lady said that red shoes were altogether inappropriate and that Karen had done a horrible thing. From that time on, whenever she went to church, Karen was told to wear black shoes, no matter how worn they were.

The following Sunday Karen was supposed to go to communion. She looked at the black shoes, and then she looked at the red shoes. She looked at the red ones again and put them on.

It was a beautiful sunny day. Karen and the old lady walked through the field along the path, which was a little dusty.

An older soldier leaned on a crutch by the church door; he had a peculiar long beard that was more red than white because it was red. He bowed all the way to the ground and asked the old lady if he could wipe off her shoes. Karen too stretched her little foot forward. "Look at those beautiful dancing shoes," the soldier said. "May they stay on tight when you dance!" Then he slapped the soles of the shoes.

The old lady gave the soldier a tip and walked inside the church with Karen.

Everyone in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, and all the portraits looked at them. When Karen knelt at the altar and put the gold chalice to her lips, she thought only about the red shoes. It was almost as if they were floating in the chalice – she forgot to sing the hymn, and she forgot to read the Lord's Prayer.

Everyone left the church, and the old woman got into her carriage. As Karen lifted her foot to follow her, the soldier standing nearby said. "Look at those beautiful dancing shoes," and Karen could not help herself: She had to dance a few steps. When she started, her legs kept dancing; it was as if the shoes had taken over. She danced around the corner of the church – she couldn't help it; the coachman had to run after her and grab hold of her, and he lifted her into the carriage. But her feet kept dancing and gave the kind old lady some terrible kicks. Finally, they managed to get the shoes off and Karen's legs calmed down.

When they got home, the shoes were put away in a closet, but Karen could not stop looking at them.

The old lady got sick, and they said that she wouldn't live long. Somebody had to take care of her and nurse her, and no one was closer than Karen. But there was a ball in town, and Karen was invited. She looked at the old lady, who was not going to live long anyway, and then at the red shoes. She saw no harm in that. She put on the red shoes, and that was all right, but then she went to the ball and started to dance.

When she wanted to dance to the right, the shoes danced to the left. When she wanted to move one way on the floor, the shoes went the other way, down the stairs, through the street, and out the city gate, and she danced – she had to dance – right into the dark forest.

Something bright shone above the trees, and she thought that it was the moon, because it was a face. But it was the old soldier with the red beard. He nodded and said, "Look at those beautiful dancing shoes!"

She was terrified and wanted to kick off the red shoes, but they would not come off. She ripped off her stockings, but the shoes were stuck to her feet. So she danced – she had to dance – over the fields and meadows, in the rain and shine, by night and by day. But it was worst at night.

She danced into the open churchyard, but the dead didn't dance – they had something much better to do than dancing. She wanted to sit on the grave of a humble person, where the bitter tansy weeds grew, but she found neither rest nor respite, and she danced toward the open door of the church. There she saw an angel in long white robes, with wings that reached from his shoulders all the way to the ground. His expression was serious and stern, and he held a shiny broadsword in his hand.

"You have to dance!" he said. "You have to dance in your red shoes until you're pale and cold – until your skin shrivels like a skeleton's. You have to dance from door to door, and wherever there are proud, vain children, you must knock on the door so that they hear you and fear you. You have to dance – dance!"

"Have mercy!" Karen shouted. But she did not hear the angel's answer because her shoes carried her through the gate, into the field, across roads and trails – she had to keep dancing and dancing.

One morning she danced past a door that she recognized. She heard hymns inside, and they carried out a coffin covered with flowers. She knew then that the old lady had died , and she felt abandoned by everyone and cursed by God's angel.

So she danced – she had to dance – in the dark night. Her shoes carried her off, past whitethorns and over stubbled fields, which scratched her until she bled. She danced across the heath to a lonely house. She knew that the executioner lived there, and she tapped on the window with her finger and said:
"Come out! Come out! I can't come in because I'm dancing!"

The executioner said, "You don't know who I am do you? I cut off the heads of evil people, and I can feel my axe quivering."

"Don't cut off my head!" Karen cried. "Because then I won't be able to repent my sin. But chop off my feet with the red shoes."

She confessed all her sins, and the executioner cut off her feet with the red shoes. But the shoes, with her small feet in them, still danced over the fields and into the deep forest.

The executioner made wooden legs and crutches for her and taught her a hymn, the one that sinners always sing. Then she kissed the hand that had swung the axe and went away over the heath.

"I've suffered enough for those red shoes," Karen said. "Now I want to go to church so everybody can see me." She walked boldly to the church door, but when she got there, the red shoes danced in front of her. She was frightened and turned back.

All the next week she was miserable and kept crying heavy tears. But when Sunday came, she said "All right – I've suffered and struggled enough. I think I'm just as good as lots of those people who are sitting so smugly in church." She walked ahead confidently, but she didn't get any farther than the gate – that was when she saw the red shoes dancing in front of her, and she was terrified. She turned back, and in her heart she repented for her sins.

She went to the vicarage and asked whether they would taker her as a servant. She promised to work hard and do whatever she could – it didn't matter what they paid her if only she had a roof over her head and lived among good people. The vicar's wife felt sorry for her and took her in. Karen was hardworking and pensive. She sat quietly and listened each evening when the vicar read aloud from the Bible. All their children were fond of her, but they talked about dressing up in frills and finery – and they talked about looking as beautiful as a queen – she shook her head.

They all went to the church on the following Sunday, and they asked Karen whether she wanted to come along. With tears in her eyes she looked sadly at her crutches. While they went to hear God's word, she went alone to her little room, which was big enough for only a bed and a chair. She sat down with her hymnal and was reading it devoutly when the wind carried the sounds of the organ from the church. Tearfully, she lifted her head and said, "Oh, God, help me!"

At that moment the sun shone brightly, and right in front of her, in white robes, stood God's angel, the one she had seen at night in the doorway to the church. But rather than his sharp sword, he carried a beautiful green branch covered with roses. He touched the ceiling with the branch and the ceiling rose high in the air – a brilliant golden star appeared where he had touched it. Then he touched the walls and they widened. Karen looked at the organ as it was playing, and she saw the old pictures of vicars and vicar's wives; the congregation sat in the ornate pews and sang from their hymnals. The church itself had come to the poor girl in the little cramped room, or perhaps she had gone to the church. She sat in a pew with the other people from the vicarage, and when they had finished the hymn and looked up, they nodded and said, "It was good that you came, Karen."

"By the grace of God," she replied.

Then the organ swelled, and the children's choir sounded sweet and beautiful. The bright warm sunshine streamed through the window into the pew where Karen sat. Her heart was so filled with sunshine – with peace and happiness – that it burst. Her soul flew up to God on the rays of the sun, and no one there asked about the red shoes.

Why I Taught the Source

It is likely that the last time many American high school students were exposed to folktales was in their childhood when at bedtime they heard stories such as "The Ugly Duckling" and "The Princess and the Pea." In my AP World History class, I reintroduce students to folktales along with a method for comparing and contrasting the European and Asian cultures that produced them. Focusing on folktales from 1750 to 1850 provides an opportunity to shed light on the dynamic relationship between culture, childhood, and children.

For this particular lesson we examined two classic tales that while similar in many respects, highlight regional cultural differences especially in regard to childhood ideals. In Hans Christian Andersen's "The Red Shoes" (1845) the protagonist gives into temptation but is able to redeem herself in the end. Though temptation is at the center of P'u Sung-ling's "The Taoist Priest of Lao-Shan" (1766), the end result is humiliation rather than redemption.

How I Introduce the Source

The two-day lesson began with an examination of the cultural contexts relevant to each historical source: Imperial China and industrializing Europe during the 18th and 19th centuries. We defined "culture" and discussed its components and meanings. Rather than seeing culture as a catchall term for societal institutions such as religion and government, I encouraged my students to consider the ways in which attitudes, prejudices, and folklore also influenced everyday life. Defining culture in this way helped students to think about folktales as a method for influencing children's ideas and behaviors.

Building upon our prior discussions about methods of analyses in previous classes, I suggested that the students read these primary sources comparatively in order to analyze how the two tales were similar and how they differed.

Reading the Source

For homework, students read the two stories and took notes on the themes, ideas, and topics. I asked each student to answer two questions on their personal blog:

1. How are these two folktales similar? How are they different?
2. How would each folktale influence a child's cultural worldview?

Throughout the year students blog on Ning Ning, a social network that serves as a central location for student communication, reflection, and collaboration. Each student has their own blog where they routinely write entries, answer questions, and post relevant videos or world music that they find. The use of the Ning provides a central location and an interactive method of communication outside of class.

In addition to posting their own blog entry, students were asked to write a substantive comment on at least one of their classmates' blog entries in an attempt to offer a new approach or raise an issue for discussion. I graded the students on the value that they added to the discussion in both their own blog entry and in their peer commentary. As students posted their entries and comments, I noted the dominant themes and salient ideas in preparation for our next class meeting.

The next day, students met in groups of three for five minutes to discuss what they had discovered the night before. After the small group discussion, the class as a whole discussed the sources and what folktales might tell us about cultural values.

Reflections

In their discussion, students noted the emphasis on a belief system in both folktales. They mentioned that while "The Red Shoes" was a violent tale, the protagonist was able to repent and redeem herself because she was a Christian. While "The Taoist Priest of Lao-Shan" was not as violent, the protagonist's temptation left him in a state of humiliation.

Students determined that the two stories shared temptation as a common theme but noted the different results of that temptation. They concluded that both Mr. Wang from "The Taoist Priest of Lao-Shan" and Karen from "The Red Shoes" are both tempted by vanity. Whether it is for a pair of shoes or the secret of immortality, the theme is similar. While both characters are tempted, the students believed that their fates are vastly different. They recognized that redemption is found only in "The Red Shoes," where as Mr. Wang from "The Taoist Priest of Lao-Shan" is shamed for his temptation. The class decided that the regional differences in the folktales are based upon that fact. In the end, my students concluded that the emphasis on redemption in Christianity and the lack of redemption in Taoism helped define European and Chinese cultures during the 18th and 19th centuries and, in turn, influenced the development of the region’s children.

Analyzing these two tales provided students with an opportunity to understand one way in which cultural values were transmitted, that is, via childhood. This lesson was also designed to improve students' critical thinking and writing skills by demonstrating that while some childhood lessons are similar across cultures, there are also many important cross-cultural differences.

In examining the two regional folktales, my students discussed how these stories may have been used to teach moral lessons. By critically reading and analyzing similarities and differences, students' ability to compare and contrast showed improvement. This lesson on children, morals, and culture works well because it connects students to the stories that they read in their youth while helping them develop a better understanding of how literature can enhance our understanding of the meaning of childhood in culture and history.

Li Shan, whose courtesy name was Cisun, came from Yuyang in Nanyang. He had once worked as a servant for Li Yuan, who came from the same county. In the Jianwu era (25-55 CE), there was a plague to which the members of Li Yuan's family, one after another, all fell victim. The only one to survive was an infant named Xu, who had been born several weeks earlier. The family fortune amounted to one million cash. The servants therefore plotted to murder Xu and divide the property among themselves. But Li Shan was deeply grieved by the situation and since he did not have the power to take charge, he secretly fled carrying Xu on his back. He hid in the Xiaqu area of Shanyang and fed the child with cows milk. He gave the child a dry place to lay and while he had only damp ground to lay upon. In all of his ministrations to the child, he was diligent and long suffering. Though Xu was but a babe in arms, Li Shan served him no differently than his elder master. When there was business at hand, Li kneeled for a long while before the infant reporting on the matter and only then would he act. The entire village was moved by his conduct so that all of them were inspired to cultivate virtuous behavior. When Xu was ten years old, Shan returned with him to their native village, where they rebuilt the household. They reported the servants to the magistrate and all of them were arrested and put to death. Later, when Zhongli Yi was in charge of Xiaqiu, he recommended Li Shan to the emperor as worthy of recognition for his extraordinary strength of character. Emperor Guangwu thereupon honored both Li Shan and Xu with the position of members of the Heir Apparent's suite.1

Mourning Rituals for Deceased Children

In the Han era of Jianning,
In the third year of our emperor's reign,
On this fifteenth day of the third month,
We pour out our grief for Xu Aqu.

You were only five years old
When you departed life's glory.
You entered a night without end,
Never again to see the sun or stars.

Now your spirit dwells all alone,
Underground, returned to eternal darkness.
You have left your home forever.
There is no way to ever look upon your face again.

We reported to our ancestors,
Anxiously thinking of you,
We increased our offerings and incense three times,
All to mourn the departed.

You, alas, did not recognize your ancestors,
But darted east and west, weeping and crying.
Finally you left with them,
Turning back to gaze on us from time to time.

Full of emotion, we, your father and mother…(inscription damaged).
All delicacies are tasteless to us.
Pale and gaunt, we have depleted our savings to build this shrine for you,
In the hope that your spirit will live on forever… (inscription damaged).

Visitors:
When you see dust on this grave
Please sweep it clean.
Your kindness will make the departed one happy.

Tairen was the mother of King Wen (11th cen. BCE) and a middle daughter of the Zhiren clan. Wang Ji took her as his wife. By nature Tairen was devoted and reverent, completely virtuous was her conduct. When she was with child her eyes beheld no evil sights, her ears heard no perverse sounds, her mouth uttered no careless words. She was able to teach her child in the womb. When she went to relieve herself in the [privy over] the pigpen, she gave birth to King Wen. At birth King Wen was brilliant and sagacious.

The Gentleman says, “Tairen may be considered as one who was capable at fetal instruction. In ancient times, a woman with child did not lie on her side as she slept; neither would she sit sideways or stand on one foot. She would not eat dishes having harmful flavors; if the food was cut awry, she would not eat it; if the mat was not placed straight, she would not sit on it. She did not let her eyes gaze on lewd sights or let her ears listen to depraved sounds. At night she ordered blind musicians to chant the Odes; she spoke only of proper things. 1 In this way she gave birth to children of correct physical form who excelled others in talent and virtue.”

When the child was able to take its own food, it was taught to use the right hand. When it was able to speak, a boy was taught to respond boldly and clearly; a girl, submissively and low. The former was fitted with a belt of leather; the latter, with one of silk.

At six years, they were taught the numbers and the names of the cardinal points; at the age of seven, boys and girls did not occupy the same mat nor eat together; at eight, when going out or coming in at a gate or door, and going to their mats to eat and drink, they were required to follow their elders: the teaching of yielding to others was now begun; at nine, they were taught how to number the days. At ten, the boy went to a master outside, and stayed with him even over the night. He learned the different classes of characters and calculation; he did not wear his jacket or trousers of silk; in his manners he followed his early lessons; morning and evening he learned the behavior of a youth; he would ask to be exercised in reading the tablets, and in the forms of polite conversation.

At thirteen, he learned music, and to repeat the odes, and to dance the civil dance of the Duke of Zhou.1 When a full-grown lad, he performed the martial dance of King Wu and learned archery and chariot-driving. At twenty, he was capped, and first learned the different classes of ceremonies and might wear furs and silk. He performed the Great Xia dance, and attended sedulously to filial and fraternal duties. He might become very learned, but did not teach others, his object being still to receive and not to give out. At thirty, he had a wife, and began to attend to the business proper to a man. . . .

A girl at the age of ten ceased to go out from the women's apartments. Her governess taught her the arts of pleasing speech and manners, to be docile and obedient, to handle the hempen fibers, to deal with the cocoons, to weave silks and form fillets, to learn all woman's work, how to furnish garments, to watch the sacrifices, to supply the liquors and sauces, to fill the various stands and dishes with pickles and brine, and to assist in setting forth the appurtenances for the ceremonies.

At fifteen, she assumed the hair-pin; at twenty, she was married, or, if there were occasion for the delay, at twenty-three. If there were the betrothal rites, she became a wife; and if she went without these, a concubine.

The Birth of a Child

When a wife was about to have a child, and the month of her confinement had arrived, she occupied one of the side apartments, where her husband sent twice a day to ask for her. If he so desired, and came himself to ask about her, she did not presume to see him, but made her governess dress herself and reply to him. When the child was born, the husband again sent twice a day to inquire for her. He fasted now, and did not enter the door of the side apartment. If the child were a boy, a bow was placed on the left of the door; and if a girl, a handkerchief on the right of it. After three days the child began to be carried, and some archery was practiced for a boy, but not for a girl.

When a son and heir to the ruler of a state was born, and information of the fact was carried to him, he made arrangements to receive him at a feast where the three animals should all be provided; and the cook took in hand the necessary preparations. On the third day the tortoise-shell was consulted for a good man to carry the child; and he who was the lucky choice, kept a vigil over night, and then in his court robes, received him in his arms outside the chamber. The master of the archers then took a bow of mulberry wood, and six arrows of the wild rubus, and shot towards heaven, earth, and the four cardinal points. After this the nurse received the child and carried it in her arms. The cook at the same time gave a cup of sweet wine to the man who had carried the child, and presented him with a bundle of silks, and the tortoise-shell was again employed to determine the wife of an officer, or the concubine of a Great officer, who should be nurse.

In all cases of receiving a son, a day was chosen; and if it were the eldest son of the king, the three sacrificial animals were killed for the occasion. For the son of a common man, a sucking-pig was killed; for the son of an officer, a single pig; for the son of a Great officer, the two smaller animals; and for the son of the ruler of a state, all the three. If it were not the eldest son, the provision was diminished in every case one degree.

A special apartment was prepared in the palace for the child, and from all the concubines and other likely individuals there was sought one distinguished for her generosity of mind, her gentle kindness, her mild integrity, her respectful bearing, her carefulness and freedom from talkativeness, who should be appointed the boy's teacher; one was next chosen who should be his indulgent mother, and a third who should be his guardian mother. These all lived in his apartment, which others did not enter unless on some special business.

At the end of the third month a day was chosen for shaving off the hair of the child, excepting certain portions,–the horn-like tufts of a boy, and the circlet on the crown of a girl. If another fashion were adopted, a portion was left on the left of the boy's head, and on the right of the girl's. On that day the wife with the son appeared before the father. If they were of noble families, they were both in full dress. From the commissioned officer downwards, all rinsed their mouths and washed their heads. Husband and wife rose early, bathed and dressed as for the feast of the first day of the month. The husband entered the door, going up by the steps on the east, and stood at the top of them with his face to the west. The wife with the boy in her arms came forth from her room and stood beneath the lintel with her face to the east.

The governess then went forward and said for the lady, 'The mother, So and So, ventures today reverently to present to you the child!' The husband replied, 'Reverently teach him to follow the right way.' He then took hold of the right hand of his son, and named him with the smile and voice of a child. The wife responded, 'We will remember. May your words be fulfilled!' She then turned to the left, and delivered the child to his teacher, who on her part told the name all round to the wives of the relatives of all ranks who were present. The wife forthwith proceeded to the festal chamber.

The husband informed his principal officer of the name, and he in turn informed all the young males of the same surname of it. A record was made to the effect--'In such a year, in such a month, on such a day, So and So was born,' and deposited. The officer also informed the secretaries of the hamlets, who made out two copies of it. One of these was deposited in the office of the village, and the other was presented to the secretary of the larger circuit, who showed it to the chief of the circuit; he again ordered it to be deposited in the office of the circuit. The husband meanwhile had gone into the festal chamber, and a feast was celebrated with the ceremonies of that with which a wife first entertains her parents-in-law.

When an heir-son has been born, the ruler washed his head and whole body, and put on his court robes. His wife did the same, and then they both took their station at the top of the stairs on the east with their faces towards the west. One of the ladies of quality, with the child in her arms, ascended by the steps on the west. The ruler then named the child; and the lady went down with it.

A second son or any other son by the wife proper was presented in the outer chamber, when the ruler laid his hand on its head, and with gentle voice named it. The other observances were as before, but without any words.

In naming a son, the name should not be that of a day or a month or of any state, or of any hidden ailment. Sons of Great and other officers must not be called by the same name as the heir-son of the ruler.

When a concubine was about to have a child, and the month of her confinement had arrived, the husband sent once a day to ask for her. When the son was born, at the end of three months, she washed her mouth and feet, adjusted herself early in the morning and appeared in the inner chamber belonging to the wife proper. There she was received with the ceremonies of her first entrance into the harem. When the husband had eaten, a special portion of what was left was given to her by herself; and forthwith she entered on her duties of attendance.

When the child of an inferior member of the ruler's harem was about to be born, the mother went to one of the side apartments, and at the end of three months, having washed her head and person, and put on her court robes, she appeared before the ruler. One of her waiting women also appeared with the child in her arms. If the mother was one to whom the ruler had given special favors, he himself named the son. In the case of such children generally, an officer was employed to name them.

Among the common people who had no side chambers, when the month of confinement was come, the husband left his bed-chamber, and occupied a common apartment. In his inquiries for his wife, however, and on his son's being presented to him, there was no difference from the observances that have been detailed.

In all cases though the father is alive, the grandson is presented to the grandfather, who also names him. The ceremonies are the same as when the son is presented to the father; but there is no interchange of words between the mother and him.

The nurse of the ruler's boy quitted the palace after three years, and, when she appeared before the ruler, was rewarded for her toilsome work. The son of a Great officer had a nurse. The wife of an ordinary officer nourished her child herself.

The son of a commissioned officer and others above him on to the Great officer was presented to the father once in ten days. The eldest son of a ruler was presented to him before he had eaten, when he took him by the right hand; his second or any other son by the wife proper was presented after he had eaten, when he laid his hand on his head.

Empress Deng (81-121 CE), who had the personal name of Sui, was the granddaughter of the Grand Tutor Deng Yu. Her father, Shun, was governor of the protectorate over the Qiang people; her mother, Yin Shi, was the daughter of a younger cousin of Empress Guanglie. When the Empress Deng was five years old, her paternal grandmother, being fond of her, cut the child's hair. The grandmother was old, and because of poor eyesight she wounded the forehead of the empress, who suffered the pain without a word. Those near her seeing this wondered at it and questioned her. The empress answered, "It is not that it did not hurt. Grandmother loves to cut my hair. As it is hard to wound an old person's feelings, so I bore the pain." At six years of age the empress was able to read the Historical Reader; at twelve she recited the Book of Poetry and the Confucian Analects. Whenever her elder brothers studied the classics or history, she would interrupt by asking difficult questions. Her interest was in ancient books and records, and she never paid any attention to home duties. Her mother often scolded her, saying, "You do not learn needle-work with which you may make garments; instead you set your heart on studies, don't you? Are you hoping to win a post at the Imperial Academy?” The empress repeatedly disobeyed her mother, performing women's tasks during the day but studying the classics at night. Her family gave her the nickname, "The Student," while her father marveled at her and consulted her in all things.

In the fourth year of the Yungyuan period, (92 CE), she should have entered the group to be admitted to the women's apartments of the palace, but her father died. Day and night the empress wept bitterly; for three years she would not take any salt in her food. Her deep grief destroyed her looks; her relatives did not recognize her. During this time she dreamt of touching the heavens, vast and clear, as if in the form of a stalactite, and lifting her head, she drank from it. When she inquired of an interpreter of dreams, he said that the sage-king Yao dreamt of grasping and ascending the heavens. The dynastic-founder Tang dreamt that he reached up to heaven and licked it. These are all signs of Sage Kings, whose auspicious omens are beyond description. A physiognomist upon seeing the future empress was startled and said, "Here is the likeness of the founder Tang."1 Her family privately rejoiced, but did not dare to spread these prognostications abroad. The empress' uncle, her father's younger brother Gai, said, "It is often heard that he who saves the lives of a thousand persons shall have descendants honored with ranks of nobility, and my elder brother Shun (the empress' father) is such a recipient because in his commission to repair Shiqiu River he saved in a year the lives of several thousand persons. The way of Heaven may be trusted; it is certain that his family will be rewarded with blessings! In former days the Grand Tutor Yu once remarked, 'I, a leader of a million troops, never once killed a single man uselessly.' Among his descendants there must be one who will be ennobled."

In 95 CE the future empress again was chosen, together with others, to enter the palace. She was five feet and five inches tall, beautiful in manner and figure, so entirely different from ordinary young women that all those around her were startled. In 96 CE, in the winter, at the age of sixteen she was made an honorable lady of the court. She was reverent, solemn and cautious. Her manner was measured and correct. She served Empress Yin deferentially, at all times terrified and trembling. In dealing with those of her own rank, she invariably deferred to others. She was kind, generous, and polite even to the palace attendants, servants, and slaves. The emperor delighted in her greatly.