An artwork on Galleree from The Art Institute of Chicago.
About the artwork
Tree Peonies in Full BloomArtist unknown (Chinese, early 20th century)
Attributed in inscription to the "imperial brush"
Qing dynasty (1644–1911), dated 1911
China
131 × 52.1 cm (51 9/16 × 20 1/2 in.); Including mount and knobs: 284.8 × 83.2 cm (112 1/8 × 32 3/4 in.)
Hanging scroll; ink and colors on silk
Gift of Mrs. William J. Calhoun
['Chinese (culture or style)']
['hanging scroll', 'painting', 'asian art']
['silk (textile)', 'ink']
['Women artists']
This boldly decorative painting is a significant document of Chinese-American relations. On February 17, 1913, the Empress Dowager Longyu (1868-1913) requested that it be delivered to the carriage of Mr. and Mrs. William C. Calhoun as they departed the imperial palace in Beijing. Mr. Calhoun, a Chicago attorney, had served as Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary (American Ambassador) to China since 1909 and witnessed the fall of the Qing dynasty to a provisional republican government, ending China's 2000 year-old imperial system. Prince Puyi (1906-67) had ruled for three years as the Xuantong emperor, under control of his father, Prince Pu Lun, and his foster mother, Longyu. Exactly one year before the Calhouns' farewell —on February 17, 1912—his parents authorized the young boy to abdicate his throne.
The inscription to the left of the peonies and the calligraphy on the mounting above are both signed by Lu Runxiang (1841-1915), a brilliant Chinese scholar. The large seal above the flowers belongs to Longyu; the brief inscription to the right of this seal, dated 1911, describes this painting as a work of the "imperial brush." Yet the painter of these flowers remains unknown. In 1911, Emperor Xuantong would have been five or six years old, making his authorship highly unlikely.
| attributed to Art Institute of Chicago under CC-By license
In the quiet halls of history, where whispers of political tides and cultural exchanges intertwine, there lies a painting—a vivid tapestry of color and emotion. This piece is not merely a representation of beauty; it is a significant document, a poignant reminder of a shift in relationships, specifically between two great nations: China and America.
The origins of this artwork can be traced back to a crisp winter day on February 17, 1913, within the grand walls of the imperial palace in Beijing. Here, the air was thick with anticipation as Empress Dowager Longyu, a figure of strength and grace, made a notable request. Charged with the delivery of this magnificent painting, servants hurried to present it to Mr. and Mrs. William C. Calhoun as they prepared to leave the palace grounds. The couple stood together, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, ready to depart from a world that had cradled them amid monumental change.
Mr. Calhoun, a Chicago attorney by trade, had held a venerable position as the Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary—essentially, the American Ambassador to China—since 1909. His tenure had witnessed the dramatic surrender of the Qing dynasty, a reign that had lasted more than two millennia, giving way to the dawn of a provisional republican government. The echoes of time nestled gently around him as he recalled a young boy, barely more than a child, who bore the weight of a throne. Prince Puyi, a figure still draped in innocence, ruled briefly as the Xuantong Emperor, under the watchful eyes of his father and the Empress Dowager herself, so pivotal in this transformative era.
It was exactly one year prior to the Calhouns’ departure, also on February 17, but in 1912, when the boy had been authorized by his parents to step down from his throne—a weight lifted, a new beginning. The world beyond the palace walls was changing, and so too were the lives of those within.
As they took leave, the delicate inscription to the left of the peonies blossomed softly with a signed mark by Lu Runxiang, a luminary among Chinese scholars—a bridge between the past and those tumultuous times. Above the flowers lay the large seal of Longyu, a regal statement of authority. And as if floating amongst the delicate petals, a brief inscription to the right of the seal danced in time, dated 1911 and bearing the honorific title of the "imperial brush." Though the artist's identity remains lost in the shadows of time, the spirit of the painting resonates onward. In 1911, young Emperor Xuantong would have been just a tender age of five or six, rendering his hand unlikely to have stroked the canvas that now captured the essence of hope and transition.
This painting, with its bold colors and delicate brushwork, is more than strokes of paint; it is a living testament, echoing a moment of unity between two worlds, a reminder of shared stories that linger long after they are told.
About the artist
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