CHINESE CASSANDRA

New Zealand Listener, Volume 2, Issue 37, 8 March 1940, Page 9

CHINESE CASSANDRA

An Impression Of Madame Chiang Kai-shek

By

James

Bertram

WAS a Voice-a lonely voice across the waters! For eight long years"the dark eyes flash ominously -"I cried my warning to deaf ears. And now you see that it has come... ." The scene is Chungking, Headquarters of the Generalissimo, in the second week of a European War. And that slim, graceful figure in the black evening gown, whose natural poise and superb dramatic flair a great actress might envy? That prophetic voice-charming, with

its slight American huskiness and undertones of nervous intensity? These could belong only to one woman in China. Certainly one of the most remarkable women in any country to-day. "Mayling Soong Chiang," she likes to sign herself, but the world knows her.as Madame Chiang Kai-shek. " Madame " During three dusty years of wartime travels in China I had never met "Madame": though to be unaware of her all that time would have been about as easy as to ignore the "Old Queen" in the England of Victoria the Great, or Mrs. Roosevelt in the America. of the New Deal. Madame Chiang is a high-powered Chinese ~ phenomenon in a class by herself. Few women anywhere have ever held--a’ position of authority and influence comparable with hers. In a dozen Chinese provinces I had heard missionary peans in praise of "Madame" and her New Life Movement. I had also listened to the more pungent comments of hard-bitten foreign flyers, as to what a woman Secretary of the Aviation Commission had. done.to the Chinese air force

during the first year of the war. But no one has ever questioned " Madame’s" galvanising energy and personal courage, her decision and resourcefulness, her passionate devotion to the Chinese cause. Interview Gas could not leave China without having seen "Madame." And so, in that last week in Chungking I ‘fished out an old letter of introduction from an influential friend in England, A note from Dr. Hollington ‘Tong, biographer, and Boswell of the Generalissimo, confirmed the date for an interview on the last evening before I left. "Holly," whose personal loyalty to the Chiangs could hardly be defined this side idolatry, would accompany me to Headquarters, Antimacassars Our shabby little car turned up an impressive driveway, between rows of rigid sentries posted every twenty yards. The house stood clear on a rise, Ameri-

can suburban style, rather like all those official villas in Nanking now knocked silly by. Japanese bombs. We entered a large airy room, pleasantly free from that hothouse atmosphere I had learned to associate with Chinese receptions. Ribbon-glass lighting, through greenish panes etched with Chinese landscapes, neatly divided the white ceiling. A coloured photograph of Sun Yat Sen hung over the mantel; on the walls, a few good scrolls and paintings, and

one very ugly silk banner with an embroidered inscription in English. The furniture was new and comfortable, with neat white antimacassars on all the chairs. Red Jade Madame stood alone before the fireplace, in tragicsombre pose. Absurdly, with her hair done in that loose style, she reminded me of a studio portrait of Katherine’ Mansfield. But the red-jade ear-rings and red handkerchief, against that unrelieved black, were as soigné as Fifth Avenue... . She held out a hand to greet us; and her small, grave features lit up with a youthful charm, which disconcertingly switched off again as suddenly as an electric bulb, We sat down, and tea was: brought. Madame talked of her Women’s Ce apace her San Min Chu I Girls’ Troop, her Orphans, her Hospital Workers. It was all rather like a Women’s Club meeting in the States,

Moral Re-Armament "You feel confident of China’s future, Madame Chiang?" "More than ever before," the answer comes swiftly. But is there a hint of anxiety beneath that surface optimism? "I feel more and more the moral strength of China’s cause, the determination of our people to fight for Truth and Justice. .. ." To her, these are clearly major values; and there can be no question of her sincerity. But a curious obsession with the abstract makes all her talk of Chinese conditions a little unreal; how near is she, one wonders, to her own people? " Chinese women" to Madame Chiang, one feels, are New Life workers

in clean gowns and belted uniforms. Fresh from the roads, I have another picture of terrible grimy peasant women, clutching a rake or hoe. These are the women of China who are so real to her very different sister, ‘Mrs. Sun Yat-sen, . . " YAccuse!" A mention of the war in Europe brings a sudden flash of feeling. "Tt is terrible-and it was bound to come! Ever since 1931 we had tried to make the Western statesmen see it. But your democratic governments" -a_ splendid irony underlines the adjective-" were so sure that Japanese aggression did not threaten them, Now the democracies are attacked in their tatrii..i: 5." Her eyes burn into me, as though I were Sir John Simon at a tea- party, and she would like to stab me with a cake fork. "TI felt like Cassandra-a voice across a wilderness of waters! Now perhaps they will see that I was right." China’s War I ask how the war in Europe will affect China’s chances, But Madame, whose diplomatic poise is second nature, is not to be drawn into discussion of foreign policy. "Since this conflict in Europe," she muses, "I feel the future may be brighter for us. Now you may think this is a paradox." "Not at all." I want to suggest that Madame could never be anything but clear and right: those dark eyes are hypnotic as a screen star’s. But she picks up the conversation swiftly again, perhaps for fear of the dreaded name of Russia, which in that room

might knock over a Ming vase. "We have to learn to rely upon our own strength. The united spirit of our people is worth more than any number of foreign guns." Moonlight " Holly," devoted and punctilious on the edge of his chair, is tapping his watch; we rise as if at a signal. The First Lady shakes hands, again with that automatic charm, "Remember me to Sir Frederick!" She goes out first, and the room is empty and dead, with its little white antimacassars staring bleakly. We are hustled into our car again, out of that house where everyone goes on tiptoe, where the guards stand still like wooden soldiers. But at least one has seen Madame, and she is unforgettable, with her personal "drama" more vivid than anything "Pirandello" ever created. Chinese Cassandra, But a very chic Cassandra, in red-jade ear-rings. . . Out into the lights of Chungking, And a moon that may bring the bombers,