Chapter VIII: Village Customs, Festivals and Folk-Lore (1)

The villages of Weihaiwei, so far as their domestic affairs are concerned, are somewhat like so many little self-contained republics, each with its own ancestral temple, its _t'u-ti miao_[96] or temple of the local tutelary spirit, its theatre, its pasture-lands, its by-laws, its graveyard, and its little band of elders under the leadership of the headman. There is no regular village council. The "elders" are simply the most influential or most respected of the inhabitants, and their number is elastic. When important matters arise, affecting the interests of the whole village, they discuss them in the headman's house, or in a temple, or in the village street under the shade of an old tree. Nothing is discussed with closed doors. The whole village, including the women and children, may as a rule attend a meeting of elders, and any one who wishes to air his views may do so, irrespective of his age or position in the village. The elders have few privileges that their fellow-villagers do not share, and the headman himself is only _primus inter pares_. His authority, like that of the elders, is chiefly derived from his position as head of the family or clan.

When all the people are bound together by ties of blood relationship, as is the case in a typical Weihaiwei village, the bonds of family life and the bonds of village life are one and the same. The senior representative of the senior branch of the family holds as a rule a double responsibility: as the head of the family he is the natural arbitrator or judge in cases of domestic strife or petty crime, and as headman of the village he is held, to a limited extent, responsible by Government for the good conduct of his fellow-villagers. It is true that in practice the headman is not always the senior representative of the senior branch of the family. Under British rule, indeed, every new headman is "confirmed" by Government and receives a _chih-chao_, or official certificate of appointment. This applies both to the District headmen[97] and to the headmen of villages. But in both theory and practice the headman is the chosen of the people. He may fall into the position with their tacit consent by virtue of the _patria potestas_, or in consequence of his wealth, strong personality or social prestige; or he may be definitely elected after a consultation among the heads of families.

The position of headman is not altogether enviable, and there is little or no competition for the filling of a vacancy. Sometimes, indeed, it is only after a village has been threatened with a general fine that it will make the necessary recommendation. This is especially the case since the establishment of British rule, for Government shows--or did show--a tendency in Weihaiwei to increase the headman's responsibilities without giving him any compensating advantages.[98] The headman, as such, has no very definite authority over the individuals of his village, but every individual is bound by rigid unwritten law to conform to the will of the _maior et sanior pars_, and to fulfil his duties to the community even if they involve his own discomfort.

It is true that the Chinese village cannot be said to possess corporate unity. Even in Europe the evolution of the "juristic person" was a slow process, and it is not likely that we shall find the developed principles of corporate existence amid the heterogeneous elements of village life in China, where there are no professional lawyers to interpret indefinite social facts by the light of definite legal fictions. Yet the germs of the theory of a _persona ficta_ may perhaps be found in several features of the village-system. Most villages, for instance, possess funds which are collected and disbursed for the benefit or amusement of the inhabitants collectively; and we usually find in the typical village a strongly-developed sense of mutual responsibility and a general acceptance of the obligation to co-operate for common ends. A man was once accused before me of refusing to join his fellow-villagers in subscribing towards the expenses of the local _hui_ with its inevitable theatrical performances. He admitted in court that he was in the wrong and undertook to contribute his proper share forthwith. Had this man been a Christian the matter would not have been so easily disposed of. It is well known that troubles have arisen in various parts of China through the refusal of Christian converts to subscribe towards their village entertainments on the ground that such entertainments were idolatrous or involved the performance of pagan ceremonies. When one understands a little of the Chinese village organisation one can see, perhaps, that there is something to be said on the side of the indignant "pagans," and that the trouble has not necessarily arisen from their hostility to the religious views, as such, of their converted fellow-villagers. It is obvious that the solidarity of the village system would be severely shaken if individuals were allowed to dissociate themselves at will from the actions of the village as a whole.

As the Village does not possess a strictly corporate character, it follows that though there may be pasture lands, wells, roads, and other property which belong to all the inhabitants collectively, it would be inaccurate to say that the Village as such is the ultimate owner of, or has reversionary rights over any real property. If such rights seem to be possessed by any given village they will be found to rest on the fact that the village comprises a single family or clan--village and family being, in fact, almost interchangeable terms; but it is the family, not the village, that owns the land. If a village has two "surnames," say Liu and Ch'i, it will never be found that arable land is jointly owned by the Liu and the Ch'i families, though both families may have equal customary rights (not definable in law) over a tract of pasture-land. Another indication that the real entity is the family and not the village may be found in the fact that many old and long-established families "overflow," as it were, from their original villages into many neighbouring villages, and still possess a kind of unity entirely lacking to the villages as such. The Chiang family, to take a specific example, is the sole or principal family in the village of Chiang-chia-chai, but it is also the sole or predominant partner in at least five villages within a radius of as many miles. One outward sign of its essential unity consists in the old family burying-ground, in which all the Chiangs in all these villages have equal rights of sepulture.

The peace of an ordinary Weihaiwei village is not often seriously disturbed. The chief causes of trouble are bad-tempered women, who form an appreciable proportion of the population. Robbers and other law-breakers are few in number; not necessarily because the Chinese are by nature more honest and respectable than other people, but because the social system to which they belong is singularly well adapted, in normal times at least, to prevent the outbreak of criminal propensities. No village possesses any body of men whose special duty it is to act as a police force, yet it is hardly an exaggeration to say that every village is policed by its entire adult male population. The bonds of family and village life are such that every male villager finds himself directly or indirectly responsible for the good behaviour of some one else. The bad characters of every village soon become marked men. For minor offences, evil-doers are punished by their neighbours in accordance with long-standing rules and by-laws; if they are regarded as incorrigible, they are either expelled with ignominy from the family and clan to which they belong[99] or they are handed over for punishment to the nearest magistrate. Every unknown stranger who arrives in a village is immediately treated with a disquieting mixture of hospitality and suspicion. He is not interfered with so long as he encroaches on nobody's rights, but all the villagers constitute an informal band of amateur detectives for the purpose of keeping an eye on his movements and ascertaining his intentions. He is regarded, in fact, as a suspicious character until he settles down and becomes a land-owner, and that--for reasons already explained--he can hardly ever hope to do.

There are curious old customs which seem to indicate that even the native of a village who returns home, after many years' residence abroad, must in some places go through a kind of formal re-admission before he is allowed to resume his position on the old footing of equality. A man once came to me with a complaint which, under cross-examination, he stated somewhat as follows: "I was nine years absent from my village. When I went home a few days ago, I was ordered by the people of the village to give a feast. I asked them to let me postpone it for a few weeks. They did not say they were glad to see me back. They insisted that the feast must be given at once. I am quite willing to give it later on. It is a village custom. Any one who leaves the village and stays away several years must provide a feast for the heads of the village families when he returns. I have no fault to find with the custom, only I want a few weeks' grace."

Nearly all villages in Weihaiwei have certain police regulations which are made and promulgated by the local elders. They possess, of course, no legal sanction, though they are frequently brought to the British magistrates for approval and to be stamped with an official seal. They consist of lists of punishable offences, and the penalties attached to them: the money fines being imposed by the village or clan elders, and applied by them to local uses. There is a good deal of variety among these village regulations or _ts'un kuei_ in respect of penalties, though the punishable offences are everywhere much the same. They always repay inspection, for they throw an interesting light on the local morality and the views held by the leaders of public opinion as to the relative seriousness of different classes of misdemeanours. A written copy of the _ts'un kuei_ is usually kept in the family Ancestral Temple or in the headman's house. The following is a translation of one of these documents:

"1. Trampling on or desecrating graves or
allowing domestic animals to desecrate graves
in the ancestral burial-ground 10 _tiao_.[100]

2. Usurping portions of the common pasture
land (_mu niu ch'ang_) or ploughing up
portions thereof 5 _tiao_.

3. Removing fuel from private land without
permission, and cutting willows and uprooting
shrubs and trees 3 _tiao_.

4. Allowing mules, ponies, pigs, sheep, or
other animals to feed on private ground
without the owner's permission 3 _tiao_.

5. Stealing crops 5 _tiao_.

6. Stealing manure from private gardens 3 _tiao_.

7. Moving boundary-stones 5 _tiao_.

8. Obstructing or blocking the right of way
to the common pasture land 5 _tiao_.

If any of the above offences are committed at night-time, the
punishment is Expulsion from the Village.

If any person having committed any of these offences declares that
he will die rather than pay his fine, let him be conveyed to the
magistrate.

The following are exempted from punishment as being irresponsible
for their actions and deserving of compassion: children under
twelve, dumb people, and imbeciles."

Very serious offences, such as housebreaking, violent assault, homicide, and offences against morality are not mentioned in the _ts'un kuei_, as neither Chinese nor British law would recognise the power of the villagers to take upon themselves the punishment of such crimes. The very prevalent vice of gambling is sometimes but not always punishable under the _kuei_. It occupies a conspicuous place in the _kuei_ published by the East and West villages of Ch'ü-chia-chuang, of which the following is a translation:

"1. Gambling:

(_a_) The owner of the house where
gambling takes place to be fined 30 _tiao_.

(_b_) Each gambler to be fined 5 _tiao_.

(_c_) Persons of the village who gamble
outside the village, but within
the limits of the village lands, to
be fined 2 _tiao_.

(_d_) Gamblers under fifteen years of
age to be fined 2 _tiao_.

2. Any person who unlawfully digs up his
neighbor's grass and shrubs, to be fined 500 _cash_.[101]

3. Any person who steals manure from
private gardens, if the offence is committed
in daytime, to be fined 500 _cash_.

4. The perpetrator of the same offence, if
it is committed at night, to be fined 2 _tiao_.

5. Any person who steals crops from the
fields or vegetables or fruit from private
gardens, if he is adult, to be fined 3 _tiao_.

6. Any child who commits the same offence,
to be fined 200 _cash_.

The above Rules have been made by the whole Village in council, and must be obeyed by every one, irrespective of age and sex. If any offender refuses to pay his fine the headman and elders will report him to the magistrate, who will be asked to inflict punishment."

The following is a translation of a similar document in which the penalties imposed are somewhat light; but in this case the _kuei_ are of ancient date and the _tiao_ was worth a great deal more than at present.

"1. Gambling Fine levied according
to circumstances.

2. Cutting trees and shrubs 1 _tiao_.

3. Stealing crops 1 _tiao_.

4. Gleaning in the harvest-fields without
permission 1 _tiao_.

5. Feeding cattle in a neighbour's field
after harvest 1 _tiao_.

6. Uprooting grass and shrubs 500 _cash_.

7. Climbing over private walls and
stealing manure or removing soil 500 _cash_.

8. Stealing fuel at night 5 _tiao_.

9. Stealing silk-worms or cocoons Fine levied according
to circumstances.

10. Knocking down chestnuts with sticks 500 _cash_.

11. Allowing dogs to go on the _ts'an ch'ang_
(silk-worm feeding-ground) and eat the
silk-worms[102] 500 _cash_.

Headmen and elders who are found guilty of any of the above
offences will incur double the specified penalty.

If doubtful[103] characters enter the village and create a
disturbance, the heads of all the families will hold a meeting to
decide what is to be done with them."

We have seen that a large number of the villages of Weihaiwei are named after the families that inhabit them. But when a single prosperous family has "overflowed" into a number of other villages it is necessary to differentiate between them, and the names given have often some reference to the outward aspect of the locality. For example, the name Sha-li-Wang-chia means the village of the "Wang-family-who-live-in-the-sand." As a matter of fact this village is situated near the sea-shore amid rolling sandhills, so the name is appropriate enough. Similarly the name Sung-lin-Kuo-chia means "the Kuo family of the Pine-grove." There are also such village names as Willow-grove, Black Rock, Thatched Temple, North-of-the-Ku-mountain, North-of-the-Pheasant-hill, White-pony Village. Sometimes pieces of family-land are given fancy names for the convenience of identification. The _Ssŭ-lao-p'o kou_ is "the ditch of the dead woman," apparently because a female's corpse was once found there: but as this name struck the owner as being unlucky and likely to bring misfortune on his family, he changed the "tone" of the first word, which transformed the phrase into "the ditch of the four old wives."

Men have their nicknames as well as places. Such names generally emphasise the owner's moral or physical peculiarities, and are often highly appropriate. The name Liu T'ieh-tsui, for instance, means Liu of the Iron Mouth--an allusion to his argumentative nature and love of brawling. Chou Lü, or Chou the Donkey, implies just what it would imply in England. One man writhes under the name Yü Hsieh-tzŭ--Yü the Scorpion--because his neighbours look upon him as a poisonous creature. Another is known as Wang Ko-p'i-tzŭ--Wang Gash-skin--because he is possessed of a knife-like sharpness of tongue. Yet another is spoken of as Chang T'ien Tzŭ--Chang the Son of Heaven, or Chang the Emperor--because he is the tyrant of his village.

The food of the people, as everywhere in China, is largely vegetarian, but fish (dried and fresh) is naturally eaten by all classes in Weihaiwei, and pork is consumed by all except the very poorest. The Chinese, it seems clear, would willingly endorse the judgment given in the _Anatomy of Melancholy_, where we are told that "pork of all meats is most nutritive in his own nature." Rice--the staple food in south China--is something of a luxury, as it has to be imported. There is a kind of "dry-rice"[104] grown in Shantung, but it is not a common crop in Weihaiwei. The ordinary grain-crops are wheat, millet, maize, barley and buckwheat. The wheat is harvested about the end of June and early in July. Immediately after the harvest the fields are ploughed up and sown with beans. The land is cultivated to its utmost capacity, and it need hardly be said that the farmer takes care to waste no material that may be useful for manuring purposes. Most fields are made to yield at least three crops every two years, and as the rotation of crops is well understood it is seldom that land is allowed to lie fallow.

In recent years very large areas have been devoted to pea-nuts, which are exported from Weihaiwei to the southern parts in enormous quantities and have become a source of considerable profit. Vegetables are grown in large quantities and include asparagus, onions, cabbage, garlic, celery, spinach, beans and sweet potatoes. Fruit is not cultivated to any great extent, though there are apples, peaches, apricots, plums, pears, melons and some other varieties, most of which are inferior to similar fruit grown in England. The services of an English fruit-grower were obtained by the British Government of Weihaiwei during the years 1905-8 with the two chief objects of testing the suitability of the district for fruit-cultivation and inducing the people if possible to make fruit-growing an important local industry. Partly owing to lack of enterprise and to a want of familiarity with the conditions under which fruit could be exported or profitably disposed of, the people have not responded to the efforts of the Government with any enthusiasm; but that Weihaiwei is a suitable locality for fruit-growing as well as for the cultivation of many kinds of vegetables has been amply demonstrated. The grape-vine flourishes provided reasonable precautions are taken against insect-pests.[105] Of English fruits which do well in Weihaiwei are apples, pears, plums, black-currants and strawberries. Of the last-named fruit it has been reported that "English varieties grow and crop splendidly, and the fruit is equal in every way to first-class fruit of the same varieties grown at home. All the varieties introduced proved to be perfectly hardy without any protection whatever."

Weihaiwei is not without game of various kinds, though the want of sufficient cover keeps down the numbers of many game-birds that would otherwise thrive. Woodcock are rare, and pheasants rarer still; but partridges are to be found in certain localities such as the neighbourhood of Lin-chia-yüan, near Wên-ch'üan-t'ang, and other hill-districts. The coasts are visited by various kinds of duck and teal, wild geese are common enough in winter, and the wild swan has been shot occasionally; but the best sport is provided in spring and autumn by the snipe. The record "bag," so far as I am aware, is ninety-five and a half couple of snipe in one day to two guns. The local Annals tell us that a small spotted deer, and also wild boar, used to be common among the hills of Weihaiwei, but they are now unknown. The Manchurian Muntjak tiger (_Felis brachyurus_) has also disappeared. Mount Macdonald and other wild parts of the Territory harbour a few wolves which occasionally raid the outskirts of a village and kill pigs and other animals. In seasons of famine, as we have seen,[106] the wolves of Weihaiwei have been something of a scourge, but they have greatly decreased in numbers in recent years. Foxes are occasionally seen, and there are said to be some wild cats. Hares are numerous, and until the disbandment of the Chinese Regiment they were regularly hunted with a pack of harriers.

Agriculture, fishing and the manufacture of a rough silk form the principal industries of the people. The silk-worms are fed not on the mulberry but, as already mentioned, on the leaves of the scrub-oak, which now covers large areas of mountain land that would otherwise be totally unproductive. One may often notice, about the months of June and July, small shreds of red cloth tied to the oak-shrubs on which the silk-worms are feeding. Red is the colour which betokens happiness and success, and rags of that colour when tied to shrubs and fruit-trees are supposed to act as charms, guaranteeing the success of the fruit and silk crops, and keeping away injurious insects. Men who are engaged in the work of _fang-ts'an_--putting out the worms on the oak-leaves--make success surer by adorning the front of their own coats with similar pieces of red cloth. They also invoke the sympathy and help of the _shan-shên_, or Spirit of the Mountain, by erecting miniature shrines to that deity.

If the Weihaiwei villages are not in themselves objects of beauty they are often surrounded by groves of trees which go far to conceal their less attractive features; and many of the cottages have little gardens which if chiefly devoted to vegetables are seldom quite destitute of flowers. The peony, chrysanthemum, wild lilies and roses, spiræa, hibiscus, jasmine, sunflower, campanula, iris and Michaelmas daisy are all common, and a few experiments made since the British occupation prove that numerous English flowers such as the Canterbury Bell, mignonette, carnation, aster, wall-flower, geranium and many others, in spite of an uneven rainfall and extremes of heat and cold seldom experienced in England, find a congenial home in Weihaiwei. Many of the flowering plants are prized for their medicinal qualities, real or supposed. The sunflower-seed--as in India and Russia--is used as a food for both men and animals, and the leaves and stems are said to make good fodder. A little purple wildflower named _ching tzŭ_ that grows on sandy soil near the sea-side is in some localities eaten by women on account of its magical efficacy in giving strength to unborn children: but this superstition seems to be dying out.

The trees in the neighbourhood of villages and in graveyards are common property, and it is very rarely, therefore, that they are cut down: elsewhere trees are very few, and timber is so scarce that large quantities are imported yearly from Manchuria.[107] Some of the principal trees of the Territory are the fir (_Pinus Thunbergii_ and _Pinus Massoniana_), ailanthus, _wu-t'ung_ (_Paulonia imperialis_) and white poplar; and there are also cypress, walnut, _ch'iu_ (_Catalpa_), pomegranate, wax-tree,[108] the beautiful maidenhair tree (_Salisbaria adiantifolia_)[109] and the _huai shu_ (_Sophora japonica_).

Among the trees introduced since the British occupation, the acacia, Lombardy poplar, laburnum, yew and some others thrive in the Territory, but the oak, sycamore, elm, birch, mountain-ash and many other trees well known in England have hitherto proved failures. From the present denuded condition of the hills one would hardly suppose that the people of Weihaiwei cared much for trees: yet as a matter of fact they value them highly for their shade and for their beauty. Public opinion is strongly averse to the wanton destruction of all trees and herbage. An illustration of this is given in the local records. "It is a very evil thing," says the _Weihaiwei Chih_, "to set fire to the woods and shrubs, and pitifully cruel to the living animals that are made to suffer thereby. In the Shun Chih period [about 1650] Chiang Ping and his sons used to behave in this dreadful manner at Li Shan [a few miles from Weihaiwei city]. They received numberless warnings but never would they depart from their evil courses. One day they were going home from market and lit a fire on the hillside. Suddenly when the fire had begun to blaze a fierce wind sprang up, and Chiang Ping and his three sons were all burned to death. This is a warning that men should take to heart."

The compilers of the _Jung-ch'êng Chih_ sum up the character and manners of the people in a way that hardly needs amplification and shows what are the features that strike a Chinese observer as of special interest. "They are very simple and somewhat uncouth and unpolished," he says, "but they are honest. They have some good old customs and show by their conduct that they are guided by the light of nature more than by learning. The men are independent and self-reliant; the women are frugal, modest, and are most careful of their chastity. If they lose that they hold life as worthless. The men till the land; the women spin. The people are stupid at business of a mercantile nature: merchants therefore are few. Many strangers from other districts live on the islands and in the market-centres.[110] In bad years when the harvests are scanty and there is a dearth of grain the hill-grasses and wild herbs are used as food. Clansmen, relatives, and neighbours take pity on each other's distress, hence one rarely hears of the sale of boys and girls.[111] ... Betrothals are arranged when the principals are still in their swaddling-clothes, and thus (owing to deaths and other causes) marriages often fail to take place. Babyhood is certainly too early a time for betrothals.[112] There are too many betrothals between people of different districts: hence one may find women over thirty years of age still unmarried.[113] This tends to the grave injury of morals. When betrothals are discussed it is considered by all disgraceful to hold mercenary views[114] or to aim at riches and honours. It is also considered discreditable to give a girl to a man as a concubine."[115]

The "uncouthness" of the people must be understood in a relative sense only. In spite of the fact that the great majority are illiterate they possess in a marked degree the natural courtesy that characterises so many Oriental races. In considering this point with reference to Chinese in general one must not ignore the fact that they have been often guilty of rudeness and even savage brutality in their intercourse with Western foreigners; but to regard rudeness and brutality as permanent or prominent elements in the Chinese character would be absurd, for if such were the case every Chinese village would be in a chronic state of social chaos. Outbursts against foreigners, however inexcusable from a moral standpoint, are always traceable to some misunderstanding, to foreign acts of aggression or acts which the Chinese rightly or wrongly interpret as acts of aggression, or to abnormal political or social conditions for which foreigners are rightly or wrongly held responsible. Most unprejudiced foreigners are willing to admit that in normal times the Chinese are a singularly courteous people, except when they have taken on a veneer of Western civilisation in the treaty-ports[116] and have lost their national graces. If the Chinese behave politely to foreigners--whom they do not like--we may well suppose that in social intercourse with one another their manners are still more courteous: and this is undoubtedly true. Their rules of ceremony may seem, from the foreigner's point of view, too stiff and artificial, or exasperating in their pedantic minuteness. The European is inclined to laugh at social laws which indicate with preciseness when and how a mourner should wail at a funeral, what expressions a man must use when paying visits of condolence or congratulation, what clothes must be worn on different occasions, how a visitor must be greeted, how farewells are to be said, how modes of salutation are to be differentiated and how chairs are to be sat upon. But, after all, every race has its own code of polite manners, and rules that impress a foreigner as intolerably formal or as ludicrous seem quite natural to one who has been accustomed to them from his earliest childhood. The rules of Chinese etiquette may be stiff, but there is no stiffness about the Chinese gentleman--or about the illiterate Chinese peasant--when he is acting in accordance with those rules.

Gambling has been mentioned as one of the vices of the people. That this should be a common failing among the Chinese is not a matter of surprise, seeing that there is probably no race among whom the gambling instinct is not to be found. It is, perhaps, specially likely to develop itself strongly among a people who, through lack of general culture, are at a loss to find suitable occupations for their leisure hours. The Chinese, however, delight in games for their own sake, as is evident from their fondness for their own somewhat complicated forms of chess and similar games. Serious cases of gambling are of course punished by the law. A new penal offence is opium-smoking, which now can be indulged in only by persons who hold a medical certificate. According to the official lists prepared by the local Government, the number of people who may be regarded as inveterate smokers amounts to no more than (if as many as) one per cent. of the population: but there is a certain amount of secret smoking and doubtless a good deal of smuggling.

On the whole, it cannot be said that opium seems to have done any very serious harm to the health or morals of the people of this district,--not, at least, as compared with the havoc wrought by alcohol in England and Scotland. If the experience of Weihaiwei goes for anything, the view sometimes held that opium-smokers must necessarily become slaves to the drug is an erroneous one. Many persons who were in the habit of indulging in an occasional pipe of opium at festive gatherings have now abjured the seductive drug without a sigh, and--judging from a few rather ominous indications--seem inclined to take to the wine-pot as a substitute. It may be only a curious coincidence that while I have been obliged to punish only six Chinese for drunkenness during a period of about five years, all six cases have occurred since the establishment of the new anti-opium regulations in 1909.

The Chinese have great reverence for book-learning, but poverty and the necessity for hard work from an early age have made it hopeless for the Weihaiwei villager to aspire to erudition. Every large village and every group of small villages have schools, but they are attended only by a small though gradually increasing proportion of the village children. The schoolmasters, moreover, are neither a very zealous nor a very learned body,--not a surprising fact when it is remembered that they receive no more than a bare living wage. At present the proportion of villagers who can read and write is very small--probably under ten per cent.--and even the headmen are often unable to sign their own names.

Not much progress in education has been made under British rule, for the resources of the Government are meagre in the extreme. A Government school at Port Edward and one or two missionary schools provide elementary education for a few dozen children, but very little has been done to improve the village schools. It need hardly be said that except in the Government and missionary schools the education, such as it is, is confined to the orthodox curriculum of "Old China": the flood of Western learning has not yet affected the little backwater of Weihaiwei except to the extent of rousing a certain limited interest in such subjects as geography and arithmetic.

Writing of present-day conditions, a Chinese diplomatist in the United States has stated that "John Stuart Mill, Huxley, Spencer, Darwin and Henry George, just to mention a few of the leading scholars of the modern age, are as well known in China as in this country. The doctrine of the survival of the fittest is on the lips of every thinking Chinese.... Western knowledge is being absorbed by our young men at home or abroad at a rapid rate, and the mental power of a large part of four hundred millions of people, formerly concentrated on the Confucian classics, is being turned in a new direction--the study of the civilisation of the West."[117] These remarks are true enough of a large and rapidly growing number of the Chinese people: but Weihaiwei and the neighbouring regions have more in common with the Old China that is passing away than with the New China that is coming and to come.

The ignorance of the people of Weihaiwei is naturally accompanied by many strange fancies and crude superstitions. Some of these must be considered when we are dealing with the religious ideas of the people; here it will be sufficient to mention a few of the miscellaneous notions that seem to be connected with no definite religious faith. There are, of course, ghosts and devils of many kinds and of varying degrees of malevolence. One means of protecting oneself against these dreadful creatures is to engage a fortune-teller or a Taoist priest to provide a charm (_fu_),[118] the mere presence of which is supposed to throw a whole army of demons into helpless confusion. Children, it is thought, are specially liable to injury from evil spirits, and many of them have charms or talismans carefully sewn into their clothes. A piece of red cloth or a few scarlet threads woven into the queue are understood to answer the purpose nearly as well. A disagreeable monster called the Celestial Dog (_T'ien Kou_) is supposed to be the cause of ill-temper and petulance in small children; but even he can be got rid of by nailing a cunningly-prepared charm above the afflicted child's bed. It is curious that a dog (a black one) also plays an undignified part in the nursery-mythology of our own happy land. Whether the Western dog would yield to the same treatment as the Eastern one is a question that might easily be solved by any parent who is prepared to make use of the charm here reproduced.[119]

Weihaiwei also has its witches (_wu p'o_) and diviners (often called _suan kua hsien-shêng_), who by acting as trance-mediums between the living and the dead, or by manipulating little wands of bamboo or peach-wood,[120] or by the use of a kind of _planchette_, profess to be able to foretell the future[121] or to answer questions regarding the present and past, or to disclose where stolen property has been concealed and by whom it has been taken. I have personally known of a case in which a thief was captured by means of the indications given by a fortune-teller. His method was to take a small stick in each hand and point them both in front of him, keeping his clenched hands close to his sides. He then moved slowly round, and when the sticks were pointing in the direction the thief had gone the points came together.[122] No doubt there is as much make-believe and quackery about these mysterious doings as there is in the similar practices of many so-called mediums in the West; but I am unwilling to believe that "there is nothing in it." Some day, let us hope, the "spiritualism" of China will be thoroughly studied by scientific investigators, and it will be surprising if the results do not form a most valuable addition to the material collected by the European and American societies for psychical research.[123]

Witches and mediums in Weihaiwei are often applied to for remedies in cases of bodily sickness, for it is supposed that what such persons do not know about herbs and drugs is not worth knowing; and the fact that they are able to throw a little magic into their brews naturally makes their concoctions much more valuable than those provided by ordinary doctors. Chinese medicines, as every one knows, often consist of highly disagreeable ingredients,[124] but some--even when compounded by witches and other uncanny healers--are comparatively harmless. Certain methods of treatment for the bite of a mad dog may perhaps be cited as typical products of the combined arts of medicine and witchcraft in Weihaiwei. The simplest method is to boil the mad dog's liver, heart and lungs, and make the patient eat them. Another is to make a number of little wheat-cakes, moulded into a dog's shape, and administer them to the patient one by one. As he consumes them he should sit at the front door of his house and repeatedly utter in a loud and determined voice the words, "I am not going to die; I am not going to die." This procedure is evidently a curious blend of something like sympathetic magic and cure by self-suggestion. Have the Chinese anticipated the methods of the well-meaning persons who call themselves Christian Scientists? A third way of providing against hydrophobia is to take some of the hairs of the mad dog and burn them to ashes; the ashes are then mixed in a cup of rice-wine and imbibed by the patient. The idea that the hair of a mad dog will cure the person who has had the misfortune to be bitten must be very widespread, for it existed in the British Isles and there is a reference to it in the Scandinavian Edda.[125]

Those who are familiar with the mazes of folk-lore will not be surprised to hear that the madness of a person who suffers from hydrophobia is supposed by many people in Weihaiwei to communicate itself to the very clothes he wears. "If the clothes are put aside in a heap," said one of my informants, "they will be seen to quiver and tremble, and sometimes they will leap about as if alive." Being a truthful man, he added, "I have never actually seen this happen myself." In the market-village of Fêng-lin there is a man of some local celebrity who is said to have effected many remarkable cures of hydrophobia by means of a recipe which he jealously guards as a family secret.

If his prescription cannot be given here, another (supposed to be equally efficacious) may take its place. Cut the tips off a couple of chopsticks (the Oriental substitute for knife and fork), pound them into a pulp and stew them for an hour; add an ounce of hempen-fibre, burnt almost to ashes, and some morsels of the herb known as _ch'ing-fêng-t'êng_. The chopsticks must be of wood, painted red, and they must be old ones that have been often used. The tips consist of the thin ends employed in picking up food. The whole mixture should be well mixed together and boiled in water, and administered to the patient as a liquid drug. The prescription adds that while undergoing this treatment the patient should beware of yielding himself to feelings of nervousness; that for three days he must shun cold or uncooked food; and that owing to the singular efficacy of this medicine, he need not avoid crossing rivers. The mention of the ends of chopsticks as an ingredient in this preparation seems curious, and specially noteworthy is the fact that the medicinal virtue resides only in old chopsticks, not in new ones. As this ingredient appears in other Chinese medicines besides those intended for the cure of hydrophobia, it may be conjectured that some health-giving quality is supposed to pass into the tips of chopsticks from the food which they manipulate, and that this quality can be transferred from the chopsticks to a living person by the simple process of conveying them in a minced form into his physical system. The red colour is merely intended to improve their efficacy, for red is the hue of health and good luck. The reference to crossing rivers is also worthy of notice. The theory of the Chinese in Weihaiwei is that the man who has been bitten by a rabid dog is liable to be seized by paroxysms of madness if he crosses flowing water. The word hydrophobia (dread of water) is thus as applicable to the popular conception of the disease in China as in Europe, though the belief that the human patient or the mad dog will refuse water as a beverage does not seem to be known in Weihaiwei.

The lives of the Weihaiwei villagers are brightened and diversified by a good number of festivals and holidays. Most of these are observed all over China, others are of local importance, while some of the customs and ceremonies now to be described are observed only in certain villages. The universal holiday-season in China consists of course of the first few days of the New Year, which falls about a month--more or less--later than the corresponding festival in the West. After the hour of _wu kêng_ (3 a.m.) on the first day of the year, torches are lighted and certain religious or semi-religious observances take place, consisting of the worship of Heaven and Earth (_T'ien Ti_), the Hearth-god and the Ancestors of the family, and the ceremonial salutation of father and mother by their children, and of uncles and aunts and elder brothers by their respective nephews and younger brothers. Fire crackers are let off at intervals during the morning and throughout the day, and from dawn onwards visits of ceremony are exchanged between relations and neighbours. The Ancestral Temple is also visited, and incense burned before the spirit-tablets and the pedigree-scrolls, which are unrolled only on solemn occasions. In conversation all reference to unhappy or unlucky subjects is tabooed, as likely to bring misfortune on the family in whose house such remarks are made.[126]

On going out of doors for the first time care should be taken to choose a "lucky" spot for the first footstep. If a person slip or fall when going out to pay ceremonial visits on New Year's Day, it is believed that he will bring disaster on his own family as well as on the families visited. For the first three days of the year the floors of the house are left unswept. The idea at the root of this custom apparently is that anything thrown or swept out of the house will take the "good luck" of the house with it; even dirty water and the refuse of food must remain indoors until the critical three days are past. New Year is the season of new clothes, and red is, of course, the colour chiefly displayed. Special care is taken to dress the children in the best and most brightly-coloured garments obtainable, as evil spirits hate the sight of such things, and will remain at a respectful distance. At the eaves of the roof are often hung hemp-stalks, which are said to bring perpetual advancement and long life.[127] The observation of the skies on New Year's Day is a matter of importance. If the wind blows from the south-east the next harvest will be a splendid one. If the clouds are tinged with red and yellow it will be moderately good; if they are dark and gloomy it will be very poor.

"The Beginning of Spring" or _Li Ch'un_ is a movable feast, falling usually in the first moon. The ceremonies observed have reference to agriculture, and though they are chiefly official in character they are considered of great importance to the farming public. Ages ago the essential part of the proceedings was the slaughter of an ox, which was offered as a sacrifice to the god of Agriculture--generally identified with the legendary Emperor Shên Nung (B.C. 2838). Nowadays the place of the ox is taken by a cheaper substitute. On the eve of _Li Ch'un_ the local magistrate and his attendants go in procession to the eastern suburbs of the city for the purpose of ceremonially "meeting the Spring."[128] Theatrical performers, singing as they go, and musicians with cymbals and flutes, follow the sedan-chairs of the officials, and after them are carried the Spring Ox[129]--not a real animal, but a great effigy made of stiff paper--and a similar paper image of a man, known as _Mang-Shên_, who represents either the typical ox-driver or ploughman or the god of Agriculture.[130] When the procession has "met the Spring" outside the city walls it returns to the magisterial yamên, and there the magistrate and his principal colleagues, armed with wands decorated with strips of coloured paper, go through the form of prodding and beating the ox by way of "making him work" and giving an official impetus to agricultural labour. When this ceremony is over the paper ox is solemnly "sacrificed"--that is, he is committed to the flames; and a similar fate befalls the _Mang-Shên_. Besides the paper ox, a miniature ox made of clay is also supposed to be provided. The clay ox, so far as I can ascertain, dates from a remote period when it was considered necessary that the ox-effigy which was carried in procession and sacrificed should for symbolical reasons be made of earth or clay. When paper was substituted, conservatism demanded that oxen of clay should continue to be made as before--for show if not for use.[131]

While the images of the ox and _Mang-Shên_ are being prepared for the approaching festival, a careful examination under official direction is made of the newly-issued New Year's Almanac--the Chinese Zadkiel; and the effigies are dressed up and decorated in accordance with the prophecies and warnings of that publication. Hence the crowds of people who go out to watch the procession on its way to meet the Spring do so not only as a holiday diversion but also for the purpose of inspecting the colours and trappings of the effigies and thereby informing themselves of agricultural prospects for the ensuing year. The prognostications are founded partly on astrology, partly on the _pa kua_ or mystic diagrams of the _I Ching_ (Book of Changes), and partly on calculations connected with _fêng-shui_. The colours and apparel of the effigies correspond on an arbitrary system with the forecasts of the Almanac. Thus if the people see that the head of the ox is painted yellow, they know that great heat is foretold for the coming summer; if it is green, there will be much sickness in the spring; if red, there will be a drought; if black, there will be much rain; if white, there will be high winds and storms. The _Mang-Shên_, also, is a silent prophet of the seasons. If he wears a hat the year will be dry; if he wears no hat there will be rain; shoes, similarly, indicate very heavy rain; absence of shoes, drought; abundance of body-clothing, great heat; lightness of clothing, cold weather. Finally, a red belt on the _Mang-Shên_ indicates much sickness and many deaths; a white one, general good health.

It will be noticed that the _Mang-Shên_, being a spirit, behaves in a precisely contrary manner to ordinary mankind, and his garments indicate exactly the opposite of what they would indicate if they were worn by a living man. Thus he wears heavy clothes in hot weather, light ones in cold weather; and as red is among men the colour that denotes joy and prosperity and white betokens grief and mourning, so the Mang-Shên wears red to indicate death and white to indicate life and health. Thus it is that naughty children who take delight in doing the opposite of what they are told to do are sometimes by their long-suffering parents called "little Mang-Shên" or "T'ai Sui."

The Lantern Festival[132] is assigned to the fifteenth day of the first month. As the Chinese year is strictly determined by lunations, this means of course that the festival occurs at the time of the first full moon of the year. Coloured-paper lanterns are hung at the doors of houses and shops and are also carried in procession. Above the doors of the houses are often hung fir-branches, betokening prosperity and especially longevity.[133] The family eat little round cakes of glutinous rice which, being supposed to represent the full moon,[134] may be called moon-cakes. There is no doubt that in remote times the fifteenth of the first and the fifteenth of the eighth months were devoted to moon-worship. A curious custom observed at the Lantern Festival is called the _tsou pai ping_--"the expulsion of disease." In some localities this merely consists in a procession of villagers across the neighbouring bridges, the procession returning home by a route other than that by which they set out. The popular notion obviously is that sickness is caused by invisible beings of a malignant nature who on the occasion of this festival can be driven across the local streams and so expelled from the village.[135] In other localities the expulsion of disease is on this occasion performed only by women, who do not necessarily cross bridges but simply walk out into the fields and back by a different route. Male villagers perform a similar ceremony on the ninth of the ninth month.

So far as Weihaiwei is concerned the Feast of Lanterns may be regarded as pre-eminently the holiday season for children. During several days before and after the fifteenth of the first month bands of young village boys dress up in strange garments and go about by day and night acting queer little plays, partly in dumb-show and partly in speech, dance and song. Some of them wear the terrifying masks of wild beasts, such as lions, a few assume the white beards of old men, and many are attired in girls' clothing. The children perform their parts with great vivacity, and go through their masquerades, dances and chorus-singing in a manner that would do credit to the juvenile performers at a provincial English pantomime. They are, indeed, taught their parts and trained by their elders for some weeks before the festival. Every group of villages keeps a stock of masks, false beards, clothes and other "properties," and there are always adults who take pleasure in teaching the little ones the songs and dances which they themselves learned as children in bygone days. In daytime the dressed-up children take a prominent part in processions to the local temples. On such occasions many of them are perched on high stilts, which they manage with great skill. At night they carry large lighted Chinese lanterns and march amid music and song through the streets of their native village, or from one village to another, stopping occasionally in front of a prominent villager's house to act their little play or perform a lantern-dance.[136]

No European who has seen a lantern-dance in a Shantung village can fail to be delighted. The graceful movements of the children, their young voices ringing clear in the frosty air, the astonishing dexterity with which they manipulate the swinging lanterns, the weird effect of rapidly-interchanging light and shadow as the gleaming paper moons thread the bewildering mazes of a complicated country-dance,--all these things combine to please the eye and charm the ear. Not the least interesting part of the proceedings is the obvious pleasure taken by the crowds of adult spectators in the performances of their little ones: for the Chinese are devoted to children.

The next notable festival of the year is a movable feast known as the "Awakening of the Torpid Insects," generally held early in the second month. In many villages it is customary to rise before dawn and cook a kind of dumpling, which as it "rises" is supposed to assist Nature in her work of awakening the sluggish or dormant vitality of animals and of vegetation. The presiding deity of this festival is, naturally enough, the Sun, and it is to him that the dumplings are offered. Similar offerings are made by the Emperor himself in his capacity of High Priest. It is believed that if on the evening of this day children wash their faces in a kind of soup made from a certain shrub (_Lycium chinense_)[137] they will never be ill and never grow old. This reminds us of the old English belief that young people will preserve their youthful beauty indefinitely by going into the fields before breakfast on the first of May and washing their faces in May dew.[138]

On the eighth of the second month it is thought that by observing the direction of the wind it is possible to foretell whether the ensuing weather will be favourable or otherwise to the crops. If the wind comes from the south-east there will be a good rainfall; if it comes from the north-west there will be a drought.

The fifteenth of the second month is known as _Hua Chao_, "the morning of flowers,"--for it is supposed to be the flowers' birthday.[139]