Chiang Yee and His Circle: Chinese Artistic and Intellectual Life in Britain, 1930-1950
Chiang Yee and His Circle: Chinese Artistic and Intellectual Life in Britain, 1930-1950
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed and bound by Hang Tai Printing Co., Ltd. in Hong Kong, China
Contents
Editors’ Introduction: Chiang Yee and His Circle: Chinese Artistic and
Intellectual Life in Britain, 1930–1950 1
Part One: Chiang Yee
1. Chiang Yee’s Hampstead 11
Paul Bevan
2. Chiang Yee as Art History 18
Craig Clunas
3. Being Chiang Yee: Feeling, Difference, and Storytelling 37
Sarah Cheang
4. Chiang Yee and British Ballet 51
Anne Witchard
5. The Silent Traveller at Home 71
Da Zheng
6. Chiang Yee in Wartime 89
Paul French
8. Chiang Yee and the Hsiungs: Solidarity, Conviviality, and the Economy of
Racial Representation 128
Diana Yeh
9. Shih-I Hsiung and Anglo-Chinese Films: ‘An Interesting Experiment’ 142
Paul Bevan
10. A ‘Chinese Shelley’ in 1930s Britain: Wang Lixi’s Transnational Activism
and Transcultural Lyricism 158
Ke Ren
11. Mahjong in Maida Vale 181
Frances Wood
Glossary of Chinese names 197
Selected Bibliography 199
Index 209
Illustrations
Cover: ‘Umbrellas under Big Ben’ from The Silent Traveller in London (1938)
Figure 0.1: Chiang Yee reading in his residence in the 1930s 4
Figure 1.1: Map of bombings in the Borough of Hampstead 16
Figure 2.1: Chiang Yee, The Chinese Eye (1935), Plate XII, superimposed on
Zhongguo minghuaji 32
Figure 2.2: Chiang Yee, The Chinese Eye (1935), Plate IV 34
Figure 3.1: Chiang Yee, ‘Charlie Chan and Myself ’ from The Silent Traveller
in Oxford (1944) 42
Figure 3.2: Chiang Yee, ‘Hair Raid’ from The Silent Traveller in Oxford (1944) 47
Figure 4.1: The Birds (1942) set design by Chiang Yee (see colour plates after
p. 70)
Figure 4.2: The Birds (1942), Cuckoo (Gordon Hamilton) and Two Cheeky
Sparrows (Margaret Dale and Joan Sheldon) 66
Figure 4.3: The Birds (1942), Hen and Sparrows (Moyra Fraser, Margaret Dale,
and Joan Sheldon) 67
Figure 4.4: The Birds (1942), Nightingale (Beryl Grey) 68
Figure 4.5: The Birds (1942), Nightingale costume design by Chiang Yee
(see colour plates after p. 70)
Figure 5.1: The front cover of A Chinese Childhood (1940) (see colour plates
after p. 70)
Figure 5.2: Budai Monk, painting, ca. 1934 79
Figure 5.3: ‘Up the Lu Mountain’ from A Chinese Childhood (1940) 84
Figure 6.1: ‘Sleeping in a Gas Mask’ from The Silent Traveller in War Time
(1939) (see colour plates after p. 70)
Figure 6.2: An illustration by Chiang Yee from M. P. Lee’s Chinese Cookery:
A Hundred Practical Recipes (1943) 98
x Illustrations
Figure 6.3: ‘Is He Mr. Winston Churchill?’ from The Silent Traveller in War
Time (1939) 100
Figure 10.1: Wang Lixi. The inscription reads: ‘Wang Lixi, 1938, in Belfast.’ 174
Contributors
Sarah Cheang
Sarah Cheang is Head of Programme in History of Design at the Royal College
of Art, London. Her research centres on transnational fashion, ethnicity, material
culture, and the body from the nineteenth century to the present day, on which
she has published widely. Her work on Chinese material culture in Britain spans
consideration of ceramics, fashion and textiles, wallpapers, furniture, and dogs. She
is an active member of the Research Collective for Decolonizing Fashion, and the
OPEN research initiative.
Craig Clunas
Craig Clunas is Professor Emeritus of the History of Art at the University of Oxford,
and the author of numerous works on Chinese art and culture, particularly of the
late imperial and modern periods. His most recent book is Chinese Painting and its
Audiences (2017).
Paul French
Paul French was born in London, educated there and in Glasgow, and lived and
worked in Shanghai for many years. He is the author of the books Midnight in Peking
and City of Devils: A Shanghai Noir, both currently being developed for television.
xvi Contributors
He is also the author of the Audible Original Murders of Old China as well as regular
contributor to the South China Morning Post magazine.
Ke Ren
Ke Ren is Assistant Professor of Chinese/East Asian History at the College of the
Holy Cross (Massachusetts). He specializes in the cultural and intellectual history
of modern China, Sino-Western exchanges, cosmopolitanism, and transnational
movements. He is working on a book manuscript entitled Fin-de-Siècle Diplomat:
Chen Jitong and Cosmopolitanism in the Late Qing World. He is also researching the
history of Chinese participation in transnational anti-fascist and peace movements
in the Global Second World War.
Tessa Thorniley
Tessa Thorniley is an independent researcher whose work focuses on writers of
Chinese heritage who have lived and worked in Britain. She is currently conduct-
ing research for the British Chinese Studies Network (BCSN). She completed her
doctoral studies at Westminster University where she also taught seminars in con-
temporary Chinese literature and society. Prior to her doctorate she spent seven
years living and working as a freelance journalist in China.
Frances Wood
Frances Wood is the retired Curator of the Chinese Collections in the British
Library. She has written a number of books on China including The Blue Guide to
China (2002), No Dogs and Not Many Chinese: Treaty Port life in China, 1843–1943
(1998), The Lure of China: Writers on China from Marco Polo to J. G. Ballard (2009),
and Great Books of China (2017).
Diana Yeh
Diana Yeh is Associate Dean of Equality, Diversity and Inclusion in the School of Arts
and Social Sciences, City, University of London, and Senior Lecturer in Sociology,
Culture, and the Creative Industries in the Department of Sociology. She is author
of The Happy Hsiungs: Performing China and the Struggle for Modernity (2014) about
the playwright S. I. Hsiung, and co-editor of Contesting British Chinese Culture
(2018). She is currently principal investigator of two projects: (1) ‘Responding to
Contributors xvii
Da Zheng (co-editor)
Da Zheng is Professor Emeritus of English at Suffolk University, Boston. He has
published articles on American Literature, Asian American literature, and diaspora
studies. He is the author of Chiang Yee: Silent Traveller from the East – a Cultural
Biography (2010) and Shih-I Hsiung: A Glorious Showman (2020).
Editors’ Introduction
Chiang Yee and His Circle: Chinese Artistic and
Intellectual Life in Britain, 1930–1950
In the 1930s, writer, poet, and painter Chiang Yee (1903–1977) was one of a small
group of Chinese writers and artists who made their homes in what was then the
Borough of Hampstead in Northwest London. At the time, this neighbourhood
was largely inhabited by a multicultural community of artists, writers, musicians,
philosophers, and critics, a number of whom had fled Nazi persecution in Europe.
Many of these intellectuals lived in Hampstead well into the 1980s and 1990s,
making it one of the most vibrant artistic areas in London over a period of several
decades.
It was in Hampstead, on the second floor of a large Victorian house, that Chiang
Yee shared a flat with Shih-I and Dymia Hsiung (Xiong Shiyi and Cai Daimei). Their
circle of friends and neighbours included the married couple Wang Lixi (Shelley
Wang) and Lu Jingqing, both of whom were writers and poets; Tsui Chi, a historian
and writer; Hsiao Ch’ien (Xiao Qian), essayist, translator, and newspaper reporter;
and the future literary translator Yang Hsien-I (Yang Xianyi), who visited London
at weekends while studying at the University of Oxford. Together with their friends
and families, this group comprised an important social and intellectual network of
Chinese writers and artists in London during the 1930s. Later, especially after the
outbreak of war, they scattered across London and to other parts of the country—
notably to Oxford and Cambridge—but continued to interact and were actively
involved in cultural and political activities in both the UK and China. The chapters
in this collection go some way towards telling a story about the Chinese in England
that up until now has received scant consideration. Although certainly not the most
ostentatious part of London during the pre-war period, Hampstead, where Chiang
Yee and Shih-I Hsiung made their home in the 1930s, was in striking contrast to the
well-documented Limehouse district, where most of London’s Chinese residents
lived at the time. By uncovering this understudied aspect of British cultural history,
this volume will help create a more balanced and nuanced picture of London’s
Chinese population and their artistic and intellectual contributions.
The subject of the Chinese in Britain has come a considerable way in just a
short time, both in terms of scholarship and general attention. As recently as 1993
Colin Holmes’s essay ‘The Chinese Connection’ was pretty much the only work on
2 Editors’ Introduction
the subject.1 Holmes’s aim was chiefly to examine the manifestations of a dispro-
portionate animosity directed towards the Chinese in Britain in the first decade of
the twentieth century. Britain’s first Chinese residents were seamen who settled in
the dockside neighbourhoods of London, Cardiff, and Liverpool. Despite the fact
that the Chinese were statistically just a very small group—comprising only 480 out
of a total of 15,246 foreign workers (UK census 1911)—Holmes demonstrated that
small groups can come under hostile scrutiny when they become linked to issues
of national economic or social concern. While the cheapness of Chinese labour
provoked localised anger, this was exacerbated with the outbreak of the First World
War, when claims of illicit sexual relations, illegal gambling, and recreational drug
use were mobilised in the service of a general dynamics of racial hostility. Late
nineteenth-century notions of a ‘Yellow Peril’ were revitalised and the dissemina-
tion of anti-Chinese sentiment in the daily press was pervasive. Holmes empha-
sises the role of popular culture in this, examining the interplay of the daily press,
literary potboilers, and lurid films with police and government reports, a potent
brew that filtered into a popular consciousness in which the Chinese presence, tiny
though it was, loomed large. London’s Chinatown in the Limehouse docks became
a byword for vice, exoticised by Thomas Burke’s bestselling Limehouse Nights: Tales
of Chinatown (1916) and demonised in Sax Rohmer’s tales of the evil mastermind
Dr. Fu Manchu.
Chiang Yee arrived in the UK in 1933. Two years earlier, the 1931 UK census
had recorded 1,934 Chinese living in England and Wales. Popular perceptions of
Chinese people continued to be based on sensationalist press stories while carica-
tured stereotypes in novels and films had become firmly established. In unpicking
the workings of this anti-Chinese discourse, ‘The Chinese Connection’ mapped out
a terrain of future scholarship on the Chinese in Britain which continues to develop
and broaden. Publications such as Christopher Frayling’s The Yellow Peril: Dr. Fu
Manchu and the Rise of Chinaphobia (2014) and Phil Baker and Antony Clayton’s
edited collection Lord of Strange Deaths: The Fiendish World of Sax Rohmer (2015)
have thoroughly excavated the popular ‘Yellow Perilism’ of pulp exotica. The per-
nicious impact of popular cultural representation of the Chinese found its most
detailed account in Robert Bickers’s Britain in China: Community, Culture and
Colonialism, 1900–49 (1999). While Bickers’s work is a study of British incursion
in China, the first chapter, ‘China in Britain, and in the British Imagination’, is con-
cerned with how the colonial mindset was informed by its mental baggage. Bickers
details the films, plays, and fiction, both for children and adults, in which the cruelty
1. Colin Holmes, ‘The Chinese Connection’, in Outsiders and Outcasts: Essays in Honour of William J. Fishman,
ed. Geoffrey Alderman and Colin Holmes (London: Duckworth, 1993), 71–93. This essay incorporated
Holmes’s previous attention to the Chinese in John Bull’s Island: Immigration and British Society, 1871–1971
(London: Macmillan Education, 1988). It also built on an earlier article by J. P. May, ‘The Chinese in Britain,
1860–1914’, that Holmes had published a decade before in his edited volume Immigrants and Minorities in
British Society (London: Allen and Unwin, 1978). The essay remains a foundational source for the wide range
of studies that have come since.
Editors’ Introduction 3
and wickedness of ‘China and the Chinese—and the Chinese in Britain too—were
represented to the extent that those pleading for improvements in relations between
Chinese and Britons routinely joked about it’.2 Two significant works have explored
the ‘facts’, as far as they can be gleaned, of London’s early Chinatown in relation
to the fantasies it engendered. John Seed’s article ‘Limehouse Blues: Looking for
Chinatown in the London Docks, 1900–1940’ (2006), utilises census and other data
to assess the discrepancy between exotic reportage and drab reality, while Sacha
Auerbach’s Race, Law, and ‘The Chinese Puzzle’ in Imperial Britain (2009) examines
the manner in which derogatory media representation influenced the treatment of
Chinese immigrants in the British judicial system and how the reports of these legal
judgments, in turn, reinforced the ways in which the Chinese were depicted in the
British media.
With The Chinese in Britain, 1800–Present: Economy, Transnationalism, Identity
(2007), Gregor Benton and E. T. Gomez published the first comprehensive study
of the long history of Chinese migration to Britain. Most significantly, Benton
and Gomez revised accounts that treated all Chinese emigrants as one unified
diaspora. The Chinese in Britain are a highly diverse group, divided by points of
origin, reasons for leaving their homeland, and linguistic, ethnic, and class differ-
ences. Studies of individual Chinese in Britain include Da Zheng’s comprehensive
biographies, Chiang Yee: The Silent Traveller from the East (2010) and Shih-I Hsiung:
A Glorious Showman (2020), as well as Anne Witchard’s Lao She in London (2012)
and Diana Yeh’s study of Shih-I and Dymia Hsiung, The Happy Hsiungs: Performing
China and the Struggle for Modernity (2014). Further developments in the history
of the Chinese in Britain were prompted by the centenary of the First World War. A
series of Penguin Specials were published in 2014 to commemorate the involvement
of China in the war, the consequences of its aftermath, and the neglected contribu-
tion of the Chinese Labour Corps.3
In a welcome counterpoint to the more familiar negative narrative, a growing
body of work looks at the cultural impact of the Sino-British encounter in the early
twentieth century, exploring the ways in which the visual iconography of China con-
stituted a precursor of literary and visual modernism. Studies which include Patricia
Laurence’s Lily Briscoe’s Chinese Eyes: Bloomsbury, Modernism and China (2003),
Eugenia Zuroski Jenkins’s A Taste for China: English Subjectivity and the Prehistory
of Orientalism (2013), Ross Forman’s China and the Victorian Imagination: Empires
Entwined (2013), Elizabeth Chang’s Britain’s Chinese Eye: Literature, Empire, and
Aesthetics in Nineteenth-Century Britain (2010), and Anne Witchard’s edited col-
lection British Modernism and Chinoiserie (2015) demonstrate the ways in which
2. Robert Bickers, Britain in China: Community, Culture and Colonialism, 1900–49 (Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 1999), 27.
3. Including Mark O’Neill, The Chinese Labour Corps: The Forgotten Chinese Labourers of the First World War
(Melbourne, VIC: Penguin Group Australia, 2014); and Anne Witchard, England’s Yellow Peril: Sinophobia
and the Great War (Melbourne, VIC: Penguin Group Australia, 2014).
4 Editors’ Introduction
Figure 0.1: Chiang Yee reading in his residence in the 1930s. Courtesy of San Edwards.
Editors’ Introduction 5
this time, a number of publishers who were sympathetic towards China helped
them to find new readers and achieve a measure of literary acclaim. The chapter
traces the rise to prominence of Chiang Yee, Hsiao Ch’ien, Chun-chan Yeh, Lo
Hsiao Chien (Kenneth Lo, 1913–1995) and Tsui Chi, and their individual relation-
ships with influential publishers. Diana Yeh’s contribution to the volume examines
Chiang Yee’s relationship with the Hsiungs, who, she maintains, were probably the
most famous Chinese couple living in Britain during the 1930s. In discussing the
major role that the Hsiungs, and Shih-I Hsiung in particular, played in both Chiang’s
career and personal life, she highlights how their relationship was one of mutual-
ity, solidarity, and conviviality as diasporic Chinese writers in Britain. However,
as she further expounds, this fruitful friendship was also impacted severely by the
economy of racial representation at the time, which admitted only a few Chinese
artists or writers to visibility. She discusses how, by pitching them as competitors
against one another, this economy ruptured solidarities and collective resistance,
and eventually tore apart their fragile bonds and those of their wider circle of
diasporic Chinese writers.
Another little-known aspect of the life of Shih-I Hsiung is introduced by Paul
Bevan, who explores his role as a screenwriter, specifically his collaboration with
the showman Lai Foun. A simple but fundamental question is posed in this chapter:
should Shih-I Hsiung’s Lady Precious Stream be seen as an example of serious
drama—as it was often said to be at the time—or as the author’s own contribution
to the populist, Orientalist world of Fu Manchu and other sensationalist films and
novels about China, as it was recognised to be by a number of Hsiung’s compatriots
who were active in his homeland during the 1930s? Ren Ke’s chapter focusses on the
Chinese writer and political activist Wang Lixi, who landed himself in political exile
in England for opposing Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist Party (Kuomintang) regime.
Adopting the English name Shelley Wang, he joined fellow Jiangxi natives Chiang
Yee and Shih-I Hsiung to form a trio of displaced Chinese writers in London. The
most politically engaged of the group, Wang Lixi travelled widely to gather support
for China’s War of Resistance against Japan and became a key participant in trans-
national anti-fascist movements. At the same time, he established close relation-
ships with British leftist writers and publishers. These connections resulted in a
series of transcultural literary moments, such as the publication of Wang’s writings
in Left Review, public salons in Dorset and Ulster, and the reading of Wang’s poems
on the BBC. Finally, taking the discussion into the 1950s, Frances Wood uses an
oral history approach to introduce Shih-I Hsiung’s family, which formed part of the
small group of Chinese who settled in North London, exiled for different reasons
but all highly educated and determined to preserve something of a Chinese life-
style in unpromising surroundings. By the 1950s, Wood tells us, there were writers,
painters, and ex-diplomats getting together for games of mahjong and cooking
rather competitively! Their life in Hampstead is recalled through the memories of
the second generation.
1
Chiang Yee’s Hampstead
Paul Bevan
Although certainly not the most well-to-do part of London during the pre-war
period, Hampstead, where Chiang Yee and Shih-I Hsiung made their home in the
1930s, was in striking contrast to the impoverished Limehouse area where most
of London’s Chinese residents lived at the time. Their flat in Upper Park Road was
situated in the heart of what was arguably the most vibrant artistic area of London.
Herbert Read (1893–1968), art critic, poet, and theorist, lived just around the
corner at 3 Mall Studios, having moved there in 1934 with his wife ‘Ludo’ (Margaret
Ludwig) from a flat belonging to Henry Moore (1898–1986) on nearby Parkhill
Road.1 This was an area inhabited by several modernist painters and sculptors, a
group which Read later described with fondness:
Living and working together in Hampstead, as closely and intimately as artists
of Florence and Siena had lived and worked in the Quattrocento . . . Within this
inner group that worked within five minutes’ walking distance of each other in
Hampstead I do not remember any quarrels, any jealousy or spitefulness. It was
a ‘nest’ of gentle artists . . . a spontaneous association of men and women drawn
together by common sympathies, shared seriousness and some kind of group
criticism.2
This ‘nest of gentle artists’, a phrase Read would use on more than one occasion
to describe the group, included Ben Nicholson (1894–1982), Barbara Hepworth
(1903–1975), and Henry Moore.3 In the years that followed, the area saw the fruits
of this intellectual and artistic confluence, with the appearance of several modernist
buildings of real architectural significance, a reflection of the district’s progressive
stance in the world of the arts. Not far from the ‘nest’, at 13 Downshire Hill, was one
example, built in 1936 by Michael and Charlotte Bunney. By 1939, just around the
1. Charles Darwent, Mondrian in London: How British Art Nearly Became Modern (London: Double-Barrelled
Books, 2012), 28; Caroline Maclean, Circles and Squares: The Lives and Art of the Hampstead Modernists
(London: Bloomsbury, 2020), 117.
2. Quoted in Maclean, Circles and Squares, 132–33; Christopher Wade, ed., The Streets of Belsize (London:
Camden History Society, 1991), 33. See also Herbert Read, Art in Britain, 1930–40: Centred around Axis,
Circle, Unit One (London: Marlborough Fine Art, 1965); Herbert Read, ‘A Nest of Gentle Artists’, Apollo 77,
no. 7 (September 1962): 536–40.
3. See also Read, ‘A Nest of Gentle Artists’, 536–42.
12 Chiang Yee’s Hampstead
corner, at 1–3 Willow Road, Ernő Goldfinger’s contribution stood, facing directly
onto Hampstead Heath, a favourite place at this time for Chiang Yee to take his daily
walk. According to A Silent Traveller in London, he would stroll round the grounds
of Kenwood House on Hampstead Heath at least twice a week and, depending on
the route he chose to take on the day, would have frequently passed Goldfinger’s
house.4 Perhaps closest of all to the ‘nest’ was the Isokon Building, built on Lawn
Road in 1933–1934, just two minutes’ walk from both 50 Upper Park Road and
the English modernist enclave.5 The Chinese émigrés lived in close proximity to
a number of refugees from Europe. Among the residents of the Isokon flats were
artists and designers formerly attached to the Bauhaus, who came to London to
escape Nazi persecution.6 Walter Gropius (1883–1969) was resident from 1934
to 1937 and his colleagues Marcel Breuer (1902–1981) and László Moholy-Nagy
(1895–1946) both lived there when they first arrived in London in 1935.7 All three
Bauhaus designers were central to the work of the Isokon Furniture Company (run
by Jack Pritchard), while at the same time working for a number of other pioneering
companies. Gropius was given the title ‘Controller of Design’ of Pritchard’s company
and Breuer took over that role when Gropius emigrated to the US in March 1937;
Moholy-Nagy joined Gropius there just three months later, while Breuer was the
third of the ‘Bauhausler’ trio to emigrate to the US, departing England in December
of that year.8 The Isobar, the dining club and bar Breuer designed for the Isokon, was
a favourite meeting place for the local artistic community, including artists from the
‘nest’.9
Photomontage artist John Heartfield (Helmut Herzfeld, 1891–1968), who had
no direct links to the Bauhaus, lived on nearby Downshire Hill from 1938, after suf-
fering the indignity of being temporarily interned as an ‘enemy alien’.10 English artist
Roland Penrose (1900–1984) was his neighbour on the same road for a number of
years and it was from there that he established the British Surrealist Group. By the
time war broke out the photographer Lee Miller had joined him there and they were
4. See Chiang Yee, The Silent Traveller in War Time (London: Country Life, 1939), 113; Chiang Yee, The Silent
Traveller in London (London: Country Life, 1938), 29. Goldfinger’s house is now a National Trust property
open to the public, see https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/2-willow-road. Accessed 2 September 2021.
5. Built by Jack and Rosemary ‘Molly’ Pritchard and designed by the architect Wells Coates. See Leyla Daybelge
and Magnus Englund, Isokon and the Bauhaus in Britain (London: Batsford, 2019).
6. Darwent, Mondrian in London, 26.
7. Daybelge and Englund, Isokon and the Bauhaus in Britain, 80–93.
8. Daybelge and Englund, Isokon and the Bauhaus in Britain, 106. Their time at the Isokon is celebrated by an
English Heritage ‘blue plaque’.
9. Darwent, Mondrian in London, 26; Daybelge and Englund, Isokon and the Bauhaus in Britain, 157–63. These
included the Ukrainian former Weimar Bauhaus master Naum Slutzky (1984–1965), who lived in the Isokon
flats for some time, and his old friend the Russian Constructivist Naum Gabo (1890–1977), who had taught
at Weimar Bauhaus’s successor in Dessau, and now lodged close by to the flats at 11 Lawn Road.
10. He was released after just six weeks due to ill health. Anna Schultz, ‘John Heartfield: A Political Artist’s Exile
in London’, in Burning Bright: Essays in Honour of David Bindman, ed. Diana Dethloff et al. (London: UCL
Press, 2015), 254.
Paul Bevan 13
married later in the 1940s.11 From Downshire Hill, in the summer of 1936, Penrose
organised the International Surrealist Exhibition in collaboration with Herbert
Read, which was mounted at the New Burlington Galleries in London’s Mayfair. The
previous year, in February and March, the prominent Shanghai painter Liu Haisu
had organised the ‘Exhibition of Modern Chinese Painting’ at the same venue and
was a guest at Hsiung and Chiang’s Upper Park Road flat while he was in London.12
Down the road from Downshire Hill, opposite Belsize Park underground
station on Haverstock Hill, was a new parade of shops and flats, Hillfield Mansions,
built in 1934 by Hillfield Estates in the latest utilitarian style. Photographer Bill
Brandt (1904–1983) made his home at 58 Hillfield Mansions from the mid-1930s,
while his brother, Rolf Brandt (1906–1986), a follower of both Surrealism and
Bauhaus design, was also on the long list of artists resident at the Isokon flats.13 The
Haverstock Hill Odeon, which opened on 29 September 1934, was the focal point
of the Hillfield complex.14 This would become a favourite haunt for Piet Mondrian
(1872–1944), the Dutch artist who made London his home from 1938 to 1940,
living at 60 Parkhill Road, not far from Herbert Read’s home and those of Henry
Moore and Barbara Hepworth, off what is now Tasker Road.15
These modernist figures were not the only artists living in the area. In 1933 the
Artists’ International Association (AIA) was formed. This was an eclectic group of
individuals whose slogan, ‘Radical in Politics, Conservative in Art’, saw the pro-
duction of art largely inspired by Soviet Socialist Realism, as championed by art
historian Anthony Blunt (1907–1983).16 Blunt’s link to Chinese art in the 1930s
was through Trinidadian-born left-wing journalist Jack Chen (1908–1995), who
in 1937 mounted an exhibition in Charlotte Street in Central London for which
Blunt wrote a glowing review in The Spectator.17 At this time Blunt was a great fol-
lower of Socialist Realism, but not all artists involved in the AIA were necessarily
devoted to this political brand of art. Amongst the well-known names associated
with this group at one time or another were the portraitist Augustus John (1878–
1961); expressionist painter Oskar Kokoschka (1886–1980), who lived on nearby
11. Maclean, Circles and Squares, 156. Commemorative ‘blue plaques’ have been erected at Heartfield’s former
residence, 47 Downshire Hill—actually the house of the German painter Fred Uhlman (1901–1985)—and
that of Penrose and Miller at 21 Downshire Hill.
12. Da Zheng, Chiang Yee: The Silent Traveller from the East – a Cultural Biography (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers
University Press, 2010), 59.
13. Paul Delany, Bill Brandt: A Life (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2004), 119; Daybelge and Englund,
Isokon and the Bauhaus in Britain, 80. For more on Rolf Brandt see https://www.englandgallery.com/artists/
artist_bio/?mainId=78. Accessed 2 September 2021.
14. The first film to be shown at the Odeon Haverstock Hill was Chu Chin Chow, starring George Robey and Anna
May Wong. http://cinematreasures.org/theaters/15082. Accessed 31 December 2020.
15. Darwent, Mondrian in London, 58–59.
16. For more on the AIA see Robert Radford, Art for a Purpose: The Artists’ International Association, 1933–1953
(Winchester: Winchester School of Art Press, 1987); Christine Lindey, Art for All: British Socially Committed
Art from the 1930s to the Cold War (London: Artery Publications, 2018), 29–34, 177–80.
17. See Paul Bevan, A Modern Miscellany: Shanghai Cartoon Artists, Shao Xunmei’s Circle and the Travels of Jack
Chen, 1926–1938 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 204–13.
14 Chiang Yee’s Hampstead
King Henry’s Road; and cartoonist David Low (1891–1963), whose studio on Heath
Street was just round the corner from Hampstead underground station. Chiang Yee
was himself a one-time member of the AIA. Even though his political and artistic
aims may not have been in full accord with those propounded by the association, the
AIA did raise money for aid to the wars in Spain and Abyssinia, two conflicts about
which Chiang expressed great concern in his writings.18 This organisation was also,
in some small way, engaged in raising money for aid to China at the time of its war
with Japan (1937–1945), a role that was taken up in a rather more focussed manner
by the China Campaign Committee, one of several groups for which Wang Lixi,
Hsiao Ch’ien, and Shih-I Hsiung worked, together with their colleagues H. D. Liem
(Liem Ham-Djang)19 and Jack Chen (another one-time resident of the Hampstead
area and a member of both the AIA and the China Campaign Committee).20
According to the members’ register of the AIA (now in the Tate Gallery
Archive), a significant number of its members lived right in the heart of the ‘nest’
and the vast majority in the London postcode districts of NW3 and NW1, that is,
Hampstead, Belsize Park, and Chalk Farm.21 Henry Moore, in addition to being a
major figure in the Hampstead modernist circles, was a member of the AIA, but the
figure who seems to have been the strongest link between all the different artistic
groups in Hampstead—the Chinese intellectuals, Moore’s modernist clique, the
Bauhaus group, and the Socialist Realists—was Herbert Read.
By the late 1930s Read was even well known in China, to both the Chinese-
and English-speaking communities. His 1933 book Art Now had been published
in Shanghai in 1935, translated into Chinese by the influential writer Shi Zhecun
(1905–2003), and the following year an essay written by Read, ‘An Approach to
Modern Art’, appeared in the Shanghai-published English-language periodical
T’ien Hsia Monthly.22 His poetry, too, could be found in Chinese translation. In
1938 his ‘Bombing Casualties: Spain’ appeared in the Shanghai-published magazine
23. Hebotuo • Lüde 赫勃脫 • 呂德 [Herbert Read], ‘Hongzha can’an: Xibanya’ 轟炸慘案:西班牙 [Bombing
casualties: Spain], trans. Zhong Guoren 鐘國仁 [Shao Xunmei 邵洵美], Ziyoutan 自由譚 [‘Candid comment’]
1, no. 1 (1 September 1938): 40.
24. Chiang, The Silent Traveller in London, 257–58.
25. Chiang Yee, The Silent Traveller: A Chinese Artist in Lakeland (London: Country Life, 1937). See also Anna
Wu, ‘The Silent Traveller: Chiang Yee in Britain, 1933–55’, V&A Online Journal 4 (Summer 2012), http://www.
vam.ac.uk/content/journals/research-journal/issue-no.-4-summer-2012/the-silent-traveller-chiang-yee-in-
britain-1933-55. Accessed 15 April 2020.
26. Chiang Yee, Chinese Calligraphy: An Introduction to its Aesthetic and Technique, 2nd ed. (London: Methuen,
1954). In the first edition of 1938 (also published by Methuen) the preface was written by Lin Sen 林森
(1868–1943), then President of the Chinese government. For the second edition (1954) Herbert Read sup-
plied a new preface.
27. Herbert Read, preface to Chinese Calligraphy by Chiang Yee, viii.
28. Zheng, Chiang Yee, 115. The Victorian house that once stood at 56 Parkhill Road is no longer there. In its place
is a more recent building, which stands next to number 60 (Piet Mondrian’s former residence). There is no
number 58.
29. Fu Guangming 傅光明, ed., Xiao Qian wenji 蕭乾文集 [Collected works of Xiao Qian] (Hangzhou: Zhejiang
wenyi chubanshe, 1998), 2:272.
4
Chiang Yee and British Ballet
Anne Witchard
I gained nothing in terms of money, but I thus became the first Chinese to do stage
design in the West.
—Chiang Yee1
Chiang Yee’s contribution to the art of ballet is little remembered today, maybe
because, as things turned out, it was to be a one-off. But it is an episode that has
much to tell us, not only about his artistic versatility, but also about his signifi-
cance as a Chinese artist to British cultural life. In the late summer of 1942, by now
well known as an artist and author, Chiang was requested by Constant Lambert
(1905–1951), musical director of the recently formed Sadler’s Wells company, to
design the sets and costumes for a new ballet, The Birds. British ballet as a national
art form was then very much in its infancy.
As Karen Eliot observes in her reassessment of this period, Albion’s Dance:
British Ballet During the Second World War, critics in the post-war decades were
inclined to present a distinctly British ballet as having ascended, phoenix-like, fully
fledged from the ashes of adversity.2 There was a tendency to skirt over the unglam-
orous war years and their privations, which had in fact confirmed the vitality of
many small companies, in particular of Ninette de Valois’s Sadler’s Wells, formerly
Vic-Wells, which in 1946 would become the resident ballet company of the Royal
Opera House (receiving its royal charter in 1956).3 Chiang’s account of his own
contribution to British ballet’s wartime development is, in characteristically modest
style, also rather underplayed, given just a couple of pages in The Silent Traveller in
Oxford (1944).
Constant Lambert’s commissioning of Chiang attests to a sincere cultural
engagement with Chinese artforms during the inter-war years. Lambert was central
to the artistic zeitgeist of the period—a musical prodigy, he was mentored by the
Sitwells (Edith [1887–1964], Osbert [1892–1969], and Sacheverell [1897–1988])
1. Quoted in Da Zheng, Chiang Yee: The Silent Traveller from the East – a Cultural Biography (New Brunswick,
NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 162.
2. Karen Eliot, Albion’s Dance: British Ballet During the Second World War (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2018).
3. See Alexander Bland, The Royal Ballet: The First Fifty Years (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981).
52 Chiang Yee and British Ballet
and close friends included composers William Walton (1902–1983) and Lord
Berners (1883–1950), and writers and aesthetes Anthony Powell (1905–2000),
Harold Acton (1904–1994), and Cecil Beaton (1904–1980). When considering the
emergence of a British national ballet it is important to recognise that Lambert’s
role in establishing it was key. At the age of nineteen, he had the distinction of being
the first British composer from whom Sergei Diaghilev commissioned a ballet
score, for Romeo and Juliet (1926).4 In the wake of Diaghilev’s demise, Lambert was
one of the founding triumvirate—with de Valois and dancer Frederick Ashton—at
Sadler’s Wells, where, following Diaghilev’s influence, the tradition was maintained
of working with the most innovative of fine artists rather than theatre designers,
among them Duncan Grant and Vanessa Bell, Edward Burra, E. McKnight Kauffer,
André Derain, and Rex Whistler (Whistler’s The Rake’s Progress was on the bill with
The Birds).5 Altogether, Chiang was in distinguished company.
Lambert would receive numerous accolades upon his untimely death, just
short of his forty-sixth birthday. Among them, de Valois mourned his loss as ‘our
only hope of an English Diaghilev’, while Powell memorialised his friend as the
composer Hugh Moreland in Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant (1960), the fifth in his
twelve-novel sequence, ‘A Dance to the Music of Time’ (1951–1975).6 The novel’s
‘grotesquely hybrid name’, as the blurb for the 1964 Penguin edition describes it, in
fact provides an esoteric clue, a poignant testament to what Lambert’s biographer
Stephen Lloyd describes as the composer’s ‘Chinese phase’.7 Lambert was something
of a sinophile, as we shall see. His engagement of Chiang as stage designer for The
Birds can be seen in relation to certain transcultural negotiations with ‘Chineseness’
on the British stage, cinema screen, and concert platform that were formative to
Lambert’s artistic development in the pre-war years, and concomitantly, I suggest,
to the influence of Diaghilev’s persistent attempts at presenting Hans Christian
Andersen’s chinoiserie tale, The Emperor’s Nightingale (1843), in his pursuit of the
ultimate Gesamtkunstwerk (a collaborative synthesis of choreographer, composer,
and scenic artist).
The penultimate chapter of The Silent Traveller in Oxford is entitled ‘Friday the
Thirteenth’ and begins as a discourse on the global universality of certain supersti-
tions, brought to bear on the local frustrations of erratic train schedules.8 Removed
from his Hampstead home to Oxford on account of the Blitz, Chiang reflects on
4. Diaghilev’s only other British commission was Lord Berners’s The Triumph of Neptune (1926).
5. See Rupert Martin, ed., Artists Design for Dance, 1909–1984 (Bristol: Arnolfini Gallery, 1984).
6. Ninette de Valois, Come Dance with Me: A Memoir (Cleveland, OH: World Publishing, 1957), 118.
7. Anthony Powell, Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1964); Stephen Lloyd,
Constant Lambert: Beyond the Rio Grande (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2014), 530.
8. Chiang Yee, The Silent Traveller in Oxford (London: Methuen, 1944), 169.
Anne Witchard 53
the woes of his London commute given the inadequacies of the railway system,
patently due to the exigencies of wartime rather than because, as an old lady repeat-
edly remarks: ‘To-day is Friday the thirteenth—that’s what it is’.9 Having been com-
missioned to design ‘the décor and costumes for a Sadler’s Wells ballet called The
Birds’ he explains: ‘There seemed perpetually to be some detail or other for which
my attendance was required—some costumes had been finished and were to be
fitted, or certain materials that I had chosen had proved unobtainable and others
must be selected. And always the matter was urgent. No time to be lost.’10 Intricate
feathered dance costumes required frequent journeys back to London, invariably at
short notice.
The Birds was a comic ballet intended to showcase the talents of the company’s
up-and-coming young ballerinas Moyra Fraser and fifteen-year-old Beryl Grey (b.
1927).11 It was staged by the Australian dancer Robert Helpmann (1909–1986), the
company’s leading man and, after Ashton was called up for military service, its chief
choreographer. The musical inspiration was a 1928 orchestration by Italian musi-
cologist Ottorino Resphigi—assembled from pieces by various seventeenth- and
eighteenth-century composers that imitate bird sounds—respectively a Dove, Hen,
Nightingale and Cuckoo—music that represents not just birdsong but the sound
of their movements such as fluttering wings or scratching feet. The story or ‘action’
of Helpmann’s ballet was as follows: the handsome Dove (Alexis Rassine) falls in
love with the lyrical Nightingale (Beryl Grey) and the comical Hen (Moyra Fraser)
who has fallen for the Dove, attempts to charm him by trying to impersonate the
Nightingale. Meanwhile the arrogant Cuckoo (Gordon Hamilton) dons the plumage
of the Dove and tries to gain the favour of the Nightingale. The two imposters, Hen
and Cuckoo are a laughing stock for a pair of cheeky Sparrows (Margaret Dale and
Joan Sheldon) and the chorus of attendant Doves (Anne Lascelles, Moira Shearer,
Pauline Clayden, and Lorna Mossford). All ends happily with the nuptials of the
Nightingale and the Dove.
Chiang, we learn, managed to get to his rendezvous at the Soho studio of cos-
tumier Matilda Etches just about on time, despite the ominous date.12 Helpmann
was already there, erroneously attempting to ‘put on his head the tail-piece of the
male dove’s costume, which was fan-like and looked, on him, like a Red Indian’s
feathered head-dress’.13 Chiang was struck anew by Helpmann’s distinctive ‘big
round eyes’, recalling that ‘once I almost disbelieved him when he complained of
being tired after travelling all night from Manchester to London because his eyes
were so wide-open and round’.14 Here we get a glimpse of the legendary wartime
stamina that propelled the fledgling Sadler’s Wells company into such fond national
regard. Despite the testing conditions of food rationing, bombing raids, conscrip-
tion, and the long, blacked-out train travel endured on provincial tours, Sadler’s
Wells nurtured leading dancers who would become famous all over the world. Beryl
Grey remembered her excitement that day and the novel ‘satisfaction of being fitted
for my very own costume, designed on me’.15 Chiang was understandably apprehen-
sive, especially when fitting Moyra Fraser for her costume as the Hen:
I had been anxious about the execution of the elaborate hen costume, for the hen
is an important character in the ballet, and her costume had to be perfect in every
detail. Very little had been accomplished at that time, but when I looked at the
broad smile on Moyra Fraser’s face and at her quickened humorous steps executed
to see how the roughly-made part of the costume would fit the movements, I was
confident that she would make the finished costume most attractive on the stage.16
As well as Helpmann and Etches, Chiang tells us, Madame de Valois herself was
there to help adjust each fitting: ‘The founder of the Sadler’s Wells ballet and its
very busy director, she compelled my great admiration for the hard work she put in
to make the new ballet successful. She even helped with the sewing of costumes!’17
Back in 1931, when de Valois started up her company, ‘one had to be a blind patriot
to talk of British ballet’, the dance critic Arnold Haskell noted of her stubborn ambi-
tion.18 Unlikely as it might seem, the Second World War was to prove the hothouse
in which the seedling of a native British ballet was to flourish.19
Until the arrival in London of Sergei Diaghilev’s groundbreaking Ballets Russes
in 1910, ballet on the British stage had been an amateur affair. The effect of the
Ballets Russes was to raise the status of ballet in Britain from a rather risqué music
hall entertainment to a respectable art form. As Eliot notes, ‘the events that plum-
meted Britain into another world conflict’ might well have resulted in the ‘stagna-
tion of this carefully nurtured but still youthful and fragile form’.20 On the contrary,
a wave of wartime patriotism swelled London audiences as soldiers on leave joined
Bloomsbury aesthetes and regular balletomanes. ‘One of the theatrical phenomena
of wartime London, and especially since the blitz began, has been the astonish-
ing vitality and popularity of ballet,’ commented The Tatler and Bystander.21 Arts-
funding bodies (such as the Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts
the chinoiserie ballet, first in 1920 with choreography by Leonide Massine and again
in a 1925 Constructivist version by twenty-year-old George Balanchine, fresh from
the Soviet Union. Diaghilev had always sought out the most exciting artists rather
than theatre designers to work on his ballets, and in inviting a Chinese treatment
from a notable and newsworthy contemporary artist to design The Birds, Lambert
was following suit.
During his three years in London (since 1933), Chiang continues, he had ‘heard a
good deal of the Russian Ballet’ and had ‘seen several of its performances’.37
After Diaghilev’s death in 1929, his Ballets Russes company dispersed. Some
years later, in 1932, a revived company, Ballets Russes de Monte-Carlo, was reas-
sembled by the partnership of French artistic director René Blum and White
Russian émigré Colonel Wassily de Basil. After a series of acrimonious disputes
Blum finally split from de Basil in 1935 and formed a separate company, Les Ballets
de Monte Carlo. This similarity of names and the fact that both companies were
performing concurrently in the West End during the 1936 season is undoubtedly
confusing and would explain why when Chiang came to write about his experi-
ence of seeing ‘the Russian ballet’ he would lump the two companies (and indeed
their separate venues) together. In The Silent Traveller in London (1938), published
in the same year as Chinese Calligraphy, Chiang repeats the analogy of calligraphy
and ballet dancing quoted above, giving it as ‘a reason special to myself for liking
Russian Ballet’.38 Here he describes attending the ‘Russian Ballet Season at Covent
Garden Opera House’, having been ‘taken there for the first time by Sir Alexander
36. Chiang Yee, Chinese Calligraphy: An Introduction to Its Aesthetic and Technique (London: Methuen, 1938),
129.
37. Chiang, Chinese Calligraphy, 129.
38. Chiang Yee, The Silent Traveller in London (London: Methuen, 1938), 170.
5
The Silent Traveller at Home
Da Zheng
In May 1940, Chiang Yee’s memoir A Chinese Childhood was published by the
London-based publisher Methuen. The book received rave reviews. Many pointed
out that, unlike other publications on China, which had been almost exclusively
by Western authors, this was a work done by a Chinese writer in England who
brought a fresh and intimate outlook.1 A review in the Times Literary Supplement
emphasised its authenticity, stating that the author presented the Chinese and cul-
tural life in Jiujiang ‘as they see themselves and not as others see them’.2 ‘Few books
could take us farther from the upheaval and disorder of the present day than this’,
commented one reviewer, while another recommended it as ‘a book to indulge in
when anxiety needs a sedative’.3 ‘The wisdom of the Chinese—this love of little and
lovely things, this passion for peacefulness, this glorying in gardens, this exalting of
contemplation and appreciation over noisy aggressiveness’—could benefit anyone
‘who seek a temporary escape from dismal wartime thoughts’, wrote another.4 A
Chinese Childhood underwent several reprints in England and was subsequently
published in the US, India, and China. Chiang became one of Methuen’s top writers.
What intrigues me the most is the phrase ‘Silent Traveller at Home’, the title of
a review article that appeared in the New York Times Book Review after John Day
brought out the US edition in 1952. In that article, John Espey tries to underline the
differences between A Chinese Childhood and other popular Silent Traveller books
by Chiang. While those Silent Traveller titles, on Oxford, Edinburgh, or New York,
offered the ‘unexpected pleasure of seeing familiar Western scenes through Chinese
eyes’, A Chinese Childhood, according to Espey, gives a record of the author’s life in
China, without his signature ‘contrast and surprise’.5
1. Maurice Collis, ‘Dreaming in Armageddon’, Time and Tide, 25 May 1940. There were only a few successful
English-language publications on China by Chinese writers at the time, and A Chinese Childhood was unique
because it was a memoir by a Chinese writer residing in Britain.
2. ‘Chinese Family: Intimate Picture of a Lost Home’, Times Literary Supplement, 11 May 1940.
3. G. A. G., ‘A Chinese Looks Back’, Hong Kong Radio Review 11, no. 14 (8 February 1941); Wilfrid Rooke Ley,
‘The Man Introduces the World to You’, Catholic Herald, 7 June 1940.
4. E. H. J., ‘A Bit of Old China’, Christian World, 30 May 1940.
5. John Espey, ‘Silent Traveller at Home’, New York Times Book Review, 16 November 1952.
72 The Silent Traveller at Home
The memoir outlines the vicissitudes experienced by Chiang’s family, his early
upbringing, and the cultural practices of the first two decades of the twentieth
century. In a placid yet mirthful tone, Chiang delves into his childhood experiences,
gently unfolding an encyclopedic and panoramic portrayal of life in Jiujiang, a port
city on the Yangtze River in South China.
The history of the Chiang family can be traced back to the first century BCE,
when Chiang Hsu (69 BCE–?) was appointed by Emperor Ai (26–1 BCE) to serve
as government inspector and governor of Yanzhou.8 Being ‘an upright and sincere
man’, he was unwilling to render his service in the royal court after Wang Mang
(45 BCE–23 CE) usurped the power to the throne. He resigned from the post and
returned to his native place, Chang’an, to live a reclusive life. He met no one except
for occasional visits from two well-known poet friends. He made three footpaths in
front of his house for them to travel by. Hence the phrase ‘three footpaths’ became
known as a poetic function in Chinese literary history.9 In the early eighteenth
century, a member of the Chiang family moved to Jiujiang on the south side of the
Yangtze, built a new house, and settled there. Ten generations later, at the beginning
of the twentieth century, the house had developed into a compound of two walled
enclosures. The main enclosure had forty-two rooms, where Chiang and most of
the family lived. It was a close-knit unit of four generations, about fifty members in
total, living in that spacious family compound under the unquestioned authority of
his great-grandparents. To the right side of the main enclosure stood a smaller one,
which was the living quarters of his third great-uncle, with two large rooms being
used as a family school, as well as a big garden.
It was a world of peace and happiness: deliberate protocols and manners, rever-
ence for elders and ancestors, the respect paid to scholars and poets, and the joys
of celebrating festivals. The family followed the Confucian tradition, caring for
the young and respecting the elderly, and maintaining a harmonious relationship.
There was hardly any dispute among them; if disagreements did occur, they would
be settled with the advice of the elders. Throughout the year, members of the family
worked hard, yet they took time to rest and enjoy themselves at the beginning of
the Chinese New Year. Like all other families, the Chiangs took weeks to prepare
food, clean the house, and decorate the rooms and halls with new paintings and
hang red paper couplets on the entrance gate to welcome prosperity. On Lunar New
Year’s Eve, the family gathered to enjoy a sumptuous feast and celebrate the annual
reunion. After that, the elders would take out the family genealogy in the central
hall, where the ancestral shrine stood, and narrate the family history to younger
generations.10
8. Yanzhou in the Han dynasty encompassed approximately southwest Shandong and northeast Hebei of China
today.
9. Chiang, A Chinese Childhood, 11.
10. Chiang, A Chinese Childhood, 75.
76 The Silent Traveller at Home
the whole scene became bright red and sparkling. The great ball of fire rose slowly
from the water, and diminished as it climbed above the horizon. Father did not
speak, and I could not express my wonder and excitement.16
It was such a magnificent and divine moment! How he wished it could last forever.
And it did, but only in his memory. His father died soon after. Chiang tells the
reader poignantly that he visited the mountain a few times later, ‘but never again
with my dear father’.17
Chiang Yee, when writing his memoir, was in exile. He was literally homeless,
thousands of miles away from his war-torn homeland, where his former home had
been burned to the ground by the Japanese. As he said years later, ‘only experienced
political exiles can understand what I went through’.18 A discussion of his diasporic
identity, as represented by his pen name, the Silent Traveller, may help to explain
the layers of pain and lamentation registered in his memoir and other artistic and
literary representations.
In 1932, around the time of his preparation for departure to England, Chiang
created a pen name for himself: Zhongya 重啞. Like most of his contemporaries,
he had a school name in childhood, which was Zhongya 仲雅, meaning ‘second’
(in order of birth) and ‘grace’. Homophonous with Zhongya 仲雅, Zhongya 重啞
is loaded with multiple new meanings. Ya 啞 means ‘mute’ or ‘dumb’, and zhong 重
denotes ‘heavy, weighty’, ‘considerable in amount or value’, or ‘discreet, prudent’. A
combination of these two characters generates a rich variety of connotations, and
probably from this came Yaxingzhe 啞行者, that is, the Silent Traveller, which later
became his signature penname overseas.19 It needs to be pointed out that, while the
phrase xingzhe 行者 denotes a walking man, pilgrim, or traveller, it carries another
meaning, that is, a monk or a Buddhist practitioner.
As indicated by the new names Zhongya and Yaxingzhe, silence, or ya, is
emphatically valued. In China and Confucian tradition, silence has been celebrated
as a virtue of elegance, grace, modesty, and steadiness. In the case of Chiang Yee,
this aspect is far more complex. It underlines his disillusionment with the corrupt
government and politics of China. He studied chemistry at college in China, hoping
that science could effectively help make China a prosperous and powerful nation
in the world. Upon graduation, however, he found that his lofty dream to ‘bring
prosperity to China with scientific knowledge’ was shattered by reality because he
Paul French
The Second World War in Europe (1939–1945) saw Chiang Yee’s career and repu-
tation grow with the publication of a number of books, additional invitations to
speak, frequent appearances in magazines such as Country Life and The Listener,
new commercial commissions, translation work, and participation in a continuing
series of gallery exhibitions.2 However, Chiang’s wartime experiences also included
seeing his Hampstead lodgings take a direct hit on the first day of the London Blitz
and the entire contents of the house, including much of his previous work, collec-
tion of Chinese paintings and library, destroyed. Shortly afterwards he was blown
unconscious by a falling bomb in Hampstead and after a hasty search relocated to
new lodgings in Oxford for the duration of the war.
Throughout the war Chiang worked with both British and Chinese war propa-
ganda entities and with Aid to China organisations, as well as on his own publish-
ing and design commissions. Much of this was a continuation of work that Chiang
had begun in the summer of 1937 when he became involved in efforts to promote
awareness of the Second Sino-Japanese War to British audiences and, beginning
in the autumn of 1939, awareness of the European war to Chinese readers, having
become involved with multiple organisations promoting the wartime Sino-British
alliance. Chiang was able to write for wartime audiences in both countries, in several
instances arranging for translations into Chinese of his observations of the war in
Britain to be distributed as part of Britain’s war propaganda in China.
This chapter considers the work undertaken by Chiang Yee during the European
war years (September 1939–August 1945), both his commercial art and writing, as
well as specifically war-related commissions. Also, given the focus of this collection,
1. Chiang Yee, The Silent Traveller in War Time (London: Country Life, 1939), 33.
2. Several of Chiang Yee’s wartime exhibitions are noted below. For his contributions see also ‘Changing China’,
The Listener, 16 April 1942, 491–92.
90 Chiang Yee in Wartime
it looks at Chiang’s involvement with various organisations and events that con-
tinued, broadened, and varied his British circle of contacts. It is perhaps interest-
ing to note that Chiang’s most specifically war-related work, The Silent Traveller in
War Time (1939), is an early contribution to a genre of what might be termed ‘war
morale literature’: writing and film (and other artforms) showing the peculiarities of
Britain at war and invariably accentuating the resilience and fortitude of the British
people.
It is my contention that Chiang was able to produce such a work as The Silent
Traveller in War Time due to the fact that he had, since the start of the Second Sino-
Japanese War in the summer of 1937, been deeply aware of the worsening situation
in Nationalist China brought starkly home by the death of his elder brother, Chiang
Ta-ch’uan. Ideas of ‘war morale literature’, the fortitude of civilian populations and
national unity in the face of war, had been prominent in his thinking. This was
especially so after the Japanese occupation of his hometown of Jiujiang in July 1938,
which he notes in the dedication of The Silent Traveller in London, published later
that year, after the Japanese attack on China but prior to the commencement of the
European war. When we look back now on the rise of British ‘war morale literature’
after September 1939 it is important to note that one of the first and most popular
examples of this new genre was The Silent Traveller in War Time, published just
weeks after the start of the war.
In general, we can divide Chiang’s war into two phases. First, the period from
September 1939 to September 1940, beginning with the outbreak of war between
Britain and Germany and the aerial bombing attacks on London (the Blitz) that
saw Chiang’s home on the Belsize Park/Hampstead border rendered uninhabitable.3
And, second, from December 1940 to the end of the war in 1945, a period that saw
Chiang often absent from London and living in lodgings in Oxford. Despite the
difficulties of transportation during the war, Chiang retained his involvement with
many key London-based organisations—the British Ministry of Information, the
War Artists’ Advisory Committee (WAAC), and the London office of the Ministry
of Information of the Republic of China. While Chiang largely maintained his
London circle of friends, he also developed overlapping and additional contacts
and circles in his new home of Oxford.
In late August 1939 Chiang Yee had just finished his first children’s book, Chin-Pao
and the Giant Pandas.4 He felt he needed a rest and, despite being aware of the
probability of war between Britain and Germany breaking out, he decided to visit
Geneva to see the Prado Museum in exile’s Les chefs-d’oeuvre exhibition, which was
3. At the time, both Hampstead and Belsize Park were in the ‘Borough of Hampstead’.
4. Chiang Yee, Chin-Pao and the Giant Pandas (London: Country Life, 1939).
8
Chiang Yee and the Hsiungs
Solidarity, Conviviality, and the Economy of Racial
Representation
Diana Yeh
This chapter examines Chiang Yee’s relationship with the Hsiungs, arguably the
most famous Chinese literary couple living in Britain during the 1930s. Their rela-
tionship, though one of evident mutuality, solidarity, and conviviality as diasporic
Chinese writers in Britain, was also shaped by the economy of racial representation
at the time. Arguably, despite his highly popular Silent Traveller series, Chiang Yee
did not achieve the level of visibility enjoyed by the Hsiungs. Shih-I and Dymia
Hsiung were a couple who arrived in Britain from China in the 1930s and who,
in an extraordinary twist of fate, unexpectedly shot to worldwide fame thanks
to Shih-I Hsiung’s play Lady Precious Stream. Hsiung became known as the first
Chinese stage director ever to work in the West End and on Broadway. With her
book Flowering Exile Dymia Hsiung became the first Chinese woman in Britain
to publish a full-length work of either fiction or autobiography in English. During
the 1930s and 1940s, such was their fame that the Hsiungs were household names
in a way Chiang was not. However, it is also probably the case that Chiang Yee’s
legacy survives in a way that the Hsiungs’ has not. For while Chiang Yee is still
known to general readers today, thanks in part to the number of his books that can
be found in second-hand bookshops around the UK, what is extraordinary is that,
until recently, the story of the Hsiungs had been almost completely forgotten, erased
from history.1
In this chapter I will discuss the major role the Hsiungs played in both Chiang’s
career and personal life as a diasporic Chinese, exiled from his home country. In
doing so, I seek to navigate an interdiscplinary path between approaches to the study
of transnational migration and of immigrant and racialised minority cultural pro-
duction in cultural studies, art historical, and literary research. I examine Chiang’s
forging of ethnic ties in diaspora but also explore how, as a migrant who was also an
artist, his ethnic ties were compromised by the way in which he and other diasporic
1. Diana Yeh, The Happy Hsiungs: Performing China and the Struggle for Modernity (Hong Kong: Hong Kong
University Press, 2014).
Diana Yeh 129
Chinese writers at the time, including Hsiung, were inserted into the economy of
British culture. The significance of ethnic ties for migrants is well recognised in
social science literatures, so much so that in some, for example, culturalist accounts,
it has become a taken-for-granted narrative based on an assumed pre-existing com-
munity. Critical of such accounts, this chapter seeks to render visible the significant
labour required to achieve community in diaspora and then addresses an issue that
has attracted less attention—the way in which these ethnic ties may be fractured by
economies of racial representation.
As Paul Gilroy and Kobena Mercer have written about contemporary Black
cultural production, the structures of racism that have marginalised Black artists
in Britain confer upon them a burden of representation, such that they are seen
as ‘representatives’ who speak on behalf of, and are therefore accountable to their
communities.2 As Mercer continues:
In such a political economy of racial representation where the part stands in for
the whole, the visibility of a few token black public figures serves to legitimate, and
reproduce, the invisbility, and lack of access to public discourse, of the community
as a whole.3
Chiang’s relationship with Hsiung was one of mutuality, solidarity, and con-
viviality, and even shared calling—that of contesting dominant perceptions of the
Chinese circulating in Europe and the US. Yet, in an economy of racial representa-
tion, where only a few Chinese artists or writers were admitted to visibility, but were
burdened with representing their ‘culture’ or nation, it was also one fraught with
tension, almost from the very beginning.
I first discuss the significance of Shih-I Hsiung in helping to launch Chiang
Yee’s career as an artist and a writer, not only through commissioning him to
produce drawings to accompany his own writings but also through introducing and
recommending him to significant cultural figures, both Chinese and British. I then
go on to discuss the role of the Hsiungs’ homes in London and Oxford in providing
emotional sanctuary, a ‘home away from home’ through the convivial gatherings
they held for Chiang and a range of other Chinese students, artist, and intellectuals.
I then examine the political mission shared by Shih-I Hsiung and Chiang, who both
sought to contest racialised representations of the Chinese circulating in Europe
and the US. In the final section, however, I highlight how these different forms of
solidarity could be ruptured as a result of the political economy of racial representa-
tion that the two writers found themselves in. In doing so, I bring to light not only a
less known dimension of Chiang’s life, but more broadly, illuminate how economies
of racial representation can shape the everyday lives of artists who are also migrants,
fracturing solidarities and rupturing even the most intimate of relations.
2. Paul Gilroy, ‘Cruciality and the Frog’s Perspective’, Third Text 2, no. 5 (1988), 33–44; Kobena Mercer, Welcome
to the Jungle: New Positions in Black Cultural Studies (London: Routledge, 1994), 240.
3. Mercer, Welcome to the Jungle, 240.
Index
Note: Page numbers in bold refer to figures; page numbers in the front matter are in italics.
Chiang Kai-shek, 7, 77, 157, 161, 166, 168, propaganda, 6, 89, 91, 100–103, 117
195 Read, Herbert, 14–15, 35n64
Chiang Ta-ch’uan, 90 silence, 6, 38, 40–41, 49, 76, 77, 81,
Chiang Yee (Jiang Yi) 83
AIA, member of, 14 Silent Traveller (Yaxingzhe), 38–41,
ballet, 51–70 44–50, 70–72, 76–78, 80–88
ballet and calligraphy, analogy between, Silent Traveller books. See individual
57–58 titles
BBC Radio, 4, 97, 102, 113 Six Laws (Six Principles), 22, 27–31
Buddhism, 20, 22, 24, 33, 76, 78–81 School of Oriental Studies (SOS), 19–20,
calligraphy, 15, 18–21, 26, 34–35, 57, 22, 34–35, 78, 80, 92, 132, 184
78–79, 180 ‘Uncle’ Chiang, 135–36, 182, 188
Carrington, Noel, 93–95, 107, 110, wartime, 89–103
114–18 Wellcome, 91–93, 102
Charlie Chan, 40–46, 48 Xu Beihong, 18, 96n23, 96n24, 98,
childhood, 72–76, 78, 87–88 130–31
children’s books, 78, 90, 93–94, 94n16, Zhongya (Chung-ya), 19, 79
102, 107, 112, 115–17, 125 China but not Cathay, 59
Chin-Pao and the Giant Pandas, 90, China Campaign Committee (CCC), 14,
94n16, 95n21, 188 101, 110–11, 159, 169–72, 176, 178
Dabbitse, 116–17, 102n41 China craze, 142–43, 145–46, 149
Lo Cheng: The Boy who Wouldn’t China Fights Back, 170
Keep Still, 94n16, 102n41, 116 China House, 135
Story of Ming, The, 94n16, 102n41, China Institute, 96
116 China Today, 171
Herdan, Innes (née Jackson), 22–23, 78, China, representation of, 180
93, 131, 175, 183 Chinese Cabaret, 150–52
International Exhibition of Chinese Art, Chinese Calligraphy: An Introduction to its
21, 26, 36, 131 Aesthetic and Technique, 6, 15, 18, 35n64,
Jiujiang, 19, 71–75, 77–78, 81, 84–86, 88, 57, 78, 117n57
90, 92, 94, 96n24, 102–3, 184 Chinese Childhood, A, 6, 71–76, 88
Lake District, 82–83, 85, 115n42, 130 Chinese Children at Play, 86–87
Lambert, Constant, 51–52, 55, 57, Chinese Communist Party (CCP), 157,
60–61, 65–66 160–61, 168–69
lectures and talks, 4, 19, 22, 35, 95–97, Chinese Cookery: A Hundred Practical
109–10, 134 Recipes, 97–98, 189
London Zoo, 93–94, 116, 188 Chinese Embassy, 97, 100, 188–90
New Burlington Galleries, 13, 21–22, Chinese Eye: An Interpretation of Chinese
131–32 Painting, The, 5–6, 18, 21–23, 25–28,
Oxford, xi, 15, 37–50, 129, 134, 158, 186 31–33, 34, 35, 78, 131–32, 134
painting (and illustration), 15, 18–22, Chinese film, 63, 142–50
24–36, 74, 78–81, 83, 89, 95, 96n24, ‘Chinese Peasant in Spring, The’
97n26, 102, 116, 130–32, 135–36, (Nongren zhi chun), 145–46
138–40, 180, 184 Hsiung, Shih-I, 142–43, 152–57
poetry, 6, 24, 79n28, 81, 83–86, 97, 102, Rose of Pu-Chui, The (Xixiangji), 63,
158–59, 163, 180 143–45
212 Index
Labour Monthly, 169 Lin Yutang, 108, 123n79, 123n84, 140, 186,
Lady Precious Stream, vii, 7, 21, 109, 126, 191, 194
128, 130–34, 137–40, 142–43, 146–48, Ling Shuhua, 113n27, 131, 182–83, 186–87,
151, 153, 155, 156n70, 157, 179 189, 191–95
Lai Foun (also Four Lai Founs; Five Lai Listener, The, 89, 91n10, 109, 120, 122
Founs; Lai Foun and his Chinese Little Theatre, The, 143, 156n70
Wonders; Lai Foun Troupe; Six Lai Liu Haisu, 13, 22, 25, 28, 30, 96, 131, 162,
Founs), 7, 142, 148–54, 157 185
Lai Man-Wai, 144, 154 Liu Songnian, 23
Lake District, 82–83, 85n42 Living China, 109, 124
Lambert, Constant, 51–52, 55–57, 60–65, Lo Cheng: The Boy Who Wouldn’t Sit Still,
145 94n16, 102n41, 116
Lane, Allen, 115–16 Lo Ming Yau, 154
Lascelles, Anne, 53 Lo, Kenneth (Lo, Hsiao Chien); (Luo
Laski, Harold, 170 Xiaojian), 7, 107, 113, 121, 184, 188–190
Lau, Grace. See Ho, Grace Lolly Willowes; or, The Loving Huntsman,
Laver, James, 63 172, 178
Lawn Road, 12, 14n21 London Zoo, 93, 188
Lawrence, Sir Alexander W., 57–58 Lorca, Federico Garcia, 145
Lee, M. P. (aka Li Mengbing), 97, 189 Lord Berners, 52n4
Left Book Club, 109–10, 159, 169–72 Low, David, 14
Left Review 7, 109, 159, 164–66, 169, 171, Lu Jingqing, 1, 162–63, 167, 185
179 Lu Xun, 109, 125, 147n24
Lehmann, John, 107, 110–14, 118–22, Luo Changhai, 77
124–25
L’Epreuve d’amour; or Chung Yang and the Ma Xiangbo, 168
Mandarin, 58–59 MacDiarmid, Hugh, 165
Les Ballets de Monte Carlo, 57–58, Madeline, 193
60n51 mahjong, 7, 181–83, 191–92
Lethaby Gallery, 70 Maida Vale, 183, 186
Lewis, Sinclair, 166 Maitreya, 80. See also Buddhism
Leyda, Jay, 144 Malraux, André, 166
Li Bai. See Li Po Malvern Theatre Festival, 132–33
Li Chu-tsing, 36 Manchu dress, 151
Li Gongpu, 168 Mao Zedong, 53n11, 160
Li He, 163, 176 Map of Hearts, A, 119
Li Mengbing. See Lee, M. P. Marco Polo Bridge Incident, 78, 109
Li Po (Li Bai), 62–63, 97, 145 Martin, Kingsley, 111, 119, 122, 178
Li Ruiqing, 24, 33 Masculinities, 37, 43
Li Yu, 81 Massine, Leonide, 57–58
Lianhua Film Studios, 154 Matisse, Henri, 56, 58
Liao Hongying, 183 May Fourth, 63n74, 163
Life and Letters Today, 109, 119 McKnight Kauffer, E., 52
Limehouse (East End Chinatown), 1–3, 11, Medway Film Company, 150n42, 151,
48, 63, 190 152n51
Limehouse Nights: Tales of Chinatown, 2 Mei Lanfang, 146, 156, 185
Index 217
Paris, 26, 28, 35, 91, 144, 166–67, 169, Professor from Peking, The, 139
194–95 propaganda, 6, 89, 91, 100–102, 113, 117,
Parkhill Road, 11, 13, 15–17, 91, 94n17, 170, 179
122, 185–86 Puffin Books, 114
Parliament Hill, 162–63
Pater, Walter, 29–30 Qi Baishi, 24, 96
Pathé, 149, 150n40 Qian Zhongshu, 30
Paulet, Reine, 153–54 Qin Shihuang, 172
Payne, Robert, 110, 125 Qing dynasty, 31, 175
Peking Opera, 130, 146, 156–58, 191 qipao, 191
Penguin Books, 3, 52, 112, 114–16 Queen Mary, 95n21, 97, 130
Penguin New Writing, The, 109, 111, 122,
124 race (racism), 6, 39–40, 43n15, 46, 50, 70,
Penrose, Roland, 12–13 108, 129, 152
People of China, 124 racial representation, 7, 20, 117, 129, 136,
People’s Republic of China, 36, 157, 184 141
People’s Revolutionary Government, The, Radio Times, The, 149
162 Rassine, Alexis, 53, 66
Peter Bernard and his Ragtimers, 152 rationing, 54, 92, 97, 114, 116, 136, 187
Phoney War, 94 food, 54, 97, 136, 187
Piccadilly, 63, 143, 145, 154 paper, 92, 114, 116
Pilot Press, 114, 119 Read, Herbert, 11, 13–15, 29, 35n64
poetry, 24, 62, 110, 114, 125–26 Red Army, 181
Chiang Yee, 6, 24, 79, 81, 83–86, 97, 132, Red Star Over China, 170
180 Redfern, James, 65
Ho, Lily, 140, 184, 192 Red-Maned Steed, The, 130, 143. See Lady
Ho, Sze Ko, 140 Precious Stream
Irvine, John, 98 Republic of China, 25, 90, 100–103, 117,
Kipling, Rudyard, 156 163, 175, 185n8
Li Po, 62–63, 97, 145 Republican Government. See Kuomintang
Lo, Kenneth, 122 ‘Research Monthly, The’ (Dushu zazhi), 161
Lorca, Federico Garcia, 144–45 Resphigi, Ottorino, 53
Shi Zhecun, 14–15 Revolution (1911), 44, 160
Su Dongpo, 189 Reynolds, S. E., 150
Tao Yuanming, 85–86 Rhythmic vitality (qiyun shengdong), 27–30
Waley, Arthur, 172–73 Rickword, Edgell, 164, 171
Wang Lixi, 7, 158–60, 163, 172–79 Robeson, Paul, 131
‘poetry talks from overseas’ (haiwai shihua), Robey, George, 13n14, 154
175 Rohmer, Sax, 2, 146–47, 154
Pool of Ch’ien Lung, The, 98 Romeo and Juliet, 52
Poon Lim (Pan Lian), 122 Roosevelt, Eleanor, 130
Pound, Ezra, 62 Rose of Pu-Chui, The (Xixiangji [Romance
Powell, Anthony, 52, 61–63, 64 of the Western Chamber]), 63, 143–45,
Poyang Lake, 85 154–55
Priestley, J. B., 113, 120, 130, 138 Ross, Alan, 119
Pritchard, Jack, 12 Rossignol, Le, 55–56, 62
Index 219
St. Albans, 93, 185–87 Tsui Chi, 1, 7, 96, 107, 110–17, 119, 122–24,
Story of China, The, 96n22, 116, 117n51, 127, 185, 193
123
Story of Ming, The, 94n16, 102n41, 116 UNESCO, 155, 183, 195
Strachey, John, 170 Union of Democratic Control, 169
Strachey, Marjorie, 194 United Aid to China, 96
Stravinsky, Igor, 56, 62 University of Cambridge, 101, 108n4, 112,
Stroheim, Erich von, 144 120, 184, 186
Su Dongpo, 189 University of London, 19, 22, 109, 181, 184,
Sullivan, Michael, 35 190
Sun Moqian, 78 University of Manchester, 182, 184
Sunday Times, The, 60 Upper Park Road, 11–13, 14n21, 16–17, 91,
Sung Hua, 193 94n17, 122, 130, 162, 185–86
Surrealism (Surrealist), 12–13 US (United States of America), 12, 15, 35,
Swann, Peter, 182 58, 72, 101, 116, 117, 123, 125, 127,
Swiss Cottage, 185–86, 195 129–30, 140–41, 150, 151n44, 155–56,
Sylvan Press, 114, 120 186, 194
Ta Kung Pao (Dagong bao), 118 Val Baker, Denys, 114, 120
Tang dynasty, 26, 28, 32, 62, 81, 97, 145, Variety, 149, 152, 154
163, 192 Victoria and Albert Museum, 143
Tang Poetry, 62, 97, 145, 163, 192 Victorian, 1, 3, 16, 29, 62, 67
Tao Xingzhi, 167–68 Vic-Wells, 51
Tao Xisheng, 161 Violin Song, 148n28, 152
Tao Yuanming, 85–86 Visiting The British War Artists’ Exhibition,
Tatler and Bystander, The, 54 99–100
Teng Gu, 28
theatre design, 70 Wade-Giles, 23, 24
Theory of the Six Laws in Chinese Painting, Wales, Nym (Helen Foster Snow pseud),
The, 28–29 110
They Fly South, 120 Waley, Arthur, 27, 36, 120, 123n81, 126,
Thief of Baghdad, The, 61 172–73, 194
Thomas, Myfanwy, 64 Walton, William, 52
Three Seasons and Other Stories, 120 Wang Chi-chen, 125, 126n96
Tian Han, 113n27, 155–57 Wang Lixi, 1, 7, 14, 158–80, 185
T’ien Hsia Monthly, 14 Shelley Wang, 2, 7, 159, 163–64, 171,
Time and Tide, 109 173, 185
Times Literary Supplement, The, 71, 109, Wang Shifu, 143n5
120, 122, 127 Wang Wei, 32
Times, The, 65 War Artists’ Advisory Committee (WAAC),
‘To China on the Fall of Shanghai’, 173 90, 99
Toler, Sidney, 42 War Artists’ Exhibition, 99
Toller, Ernst, 165, 179 war morale literature, 90
Tolstoy, Leo, 121 War of Resistance against Japan (aka
Transatlantic Arts, 117–18, 125 Second Sino-Japanese War), 7, 40,
Tregear, Mary, 182 89–90, 109, 119, 134, 159, 169, 171, 175
Index 221