Chapter XV: A Page From the Story of Protestant (5)

Not a foot of valuable land in the Chinese City is wasted on sidewalks. Hence everybody and everything is right on the street, and the very narrow passages are badly congested. Rickety jinricshas, a few sedan chairs which are fast disappearing from Shanghai, burden-bearers and pedestrians hurry continually to and fro, shouting in shrill falsetto tones to one another to clear the way and running in imminent danger of colliding with the unwary and trampling on children. Yet not all the streets are mere alleyways. A few, but it must be admitted a very few, are wide enough to allow a carriage to pass through with comparative ease, and they seem in comparison like boulevards. Then there are others along which a carriage can manage to creep providing the driver is skillful and the people hug the sides of the roads or retire precipitately into the shops out of harm’s way, but this is too risky a venture to be indulged in often and is seldom permitted by the police. Once in a while it happens that a carriage gets wedged into a tight place where it can neither move forward, back out nor even find room to turn at right angles into a cross street. The only thing then is to unhitch the horse, lead him out, pull the carriage back, and finally lifting it up bodily, turn it around and harness the horse to it again.

Not all the city is laid out in streets, for there are some open places and even flourishing vegetable gardens which quite suggest the country. That this is possible in so densely populated an area seems a marvel, and where and how the people are all hidden away is a puzzle. In the poorer sections, with the closing down of night they vanish as if by magic, except in hot weather when many camp on the streets, and in the morning the crowds swarm forth as mysteriously, like rats from their holes.

The best known and most popular breathing spot in the city is that about the lake or pond, in whose centre on a small island rises the far-famed Willow Ware Tea-House, for the identical tea-house pictured on the much sought for willow-ware porcelain is located in the Chinese City. This to the average globe-trotter is the city’s chief attraction, but alas, never was the saying “Distance lends enchantment” more truly applicable, for while the pictures of the old tea-house are undeniably charming, with its graceful upturned gables and the zigzag bridges leading to it, made zigzag to ward off evil spirits who are said to travel in straight lines, yet seen near at hand how quickly the enchantment is dispelled! Filth, rottenness, and roistering are the main present-day characteristics of this tea-house of fair renown. Instead of reflecting the blue sky above, the water is covered with a thick vegetable scum, green and unwholesome. The shores around are made lively with a colony of small vendors whose wares are set on tables or spread out over the ground. They evidently reap a paying harvest from the sale of scrolls, pottery, towels, sheepskin coats, toys, and all manner of cheap foreign knickknacks which are much sought after by the people. Switches of long, jet black hair, especially plentiful since queues went out of fashion, are given places of prominence. Many doubtless are sent abroad to add beauty to the coiffures of dames of high degree.

The business of the man who deals in rags must flourish like the green bay tree judging from the number engaged in it. What a sight is a rag-man’s shop, rags, rags everywhere, stuffed in baskets and bags, hanging from the walls, covering the floor in huge piebald bundles and mounds, germ-infected, poisonous, alive with vermin, gathered up and brought in from heaven knows where! Yet every day women and children spend long hours industriously picking them over and making them up into mops and the soles of Chinese shoes, for which they find a ready sale.

Shanghai once boasted a supremely great citizen. He lived back in the sixteenth century, a veritable Chinese Maecenas. Besides being a man of letters and encouraging Western learning, he rose to the highest position in the empire, as Premier and Chancellor of the Privy Council. His name will be of little consequence to the outside world, but it is Siu Kuang-ki, should any one care to know it. He was converted to Christianity under the Jesuit Fathers, and lived a pure, consistent, devoted life, dying so poor in spite of large emoluments that his funeral expenses had to be paid from the public treasury. He built in the Chinese City the first Christian church ever seen in these parts. During the exigencies of later years it was converted into a temple sacred to the god of war, but was afterward redeemed and restored to its original use. This church is still standing, a striking edifice back a little from the noisy street, with a typical Chinese roof, and below it on the front outside wall, a beautiful gilded cross.

The present war god’s temple is near the temple of Confucius, with its grass-grown court and deserted halls. Once a year, in the early dawn, the military governor of Shanghai and the city officials enter the sanctuary dedicated to the god of war and conduct a weird pageant-like ceremony in honour of two local military heroes. The tutelary deities of the Chinese City, black and repelling, occupy a large centrally located temple more frequented by worshippers than any other. The roomy outer court, like the temple court in Jerusalem, is given up to buying and selling, also to eating and drinking, gambling and fortune-telling, and there is no busier, noisier mart in all the city.

The local official in the Chinese City is called the “Chih-hsien,” or District Magistrate, and is appointed from Peking. His official residence styled the Yamen, is a common, ordinary building, approached through several untidy courts lined with the low one-story quarters of the Yamen retainers and petty officials. Every day, in three small, bare rooms of the Yamen, court is held, the Chinese judges in their professional gowns looking distinctly out of keeping with their surroundings. To the left and back of the Yamen is the City Prison and adjoining it a much smaller one for women. Stories are afloat regarding the unsanitary condition of the prison and the treatment of prisoners that cause one to cringe and dread an investigation, but whatever may have been the state of affairs under the old régime, and the prison manager is frank to confess that things were very different ten years ago, there is now little to criticise and a great deal to commend. The grey brick buildings are in thoroughly good repair, the cells of the four hundred men and the fifty women prisoners, clean and fairly well lighted and ventilated, though, as the manager himself will hasten to tell the visitor, too crowded for health. A few carefully tended plants are growing in the centre of each of the courts, a praiseworthy effort to introduce a touch of the æsthetic. Industrial work on a considerable scale is carried on in the men’s prison, though the grant of money from the government is too small to keep all at work. Wooden and rattan furniture, towels, mats, shoes, and clothing are made. A very little industrial work is given the women in the way of cutting out and making garments, but from lack of funds to supply workrooms and material, most of the poor creatures are forced to pass their days in idleness. The wardens of the women’s prison are women. The discipline is excellent, yet not severe, the prisoners look well fed and well cared for, and the men especially, happy and contented. Provision is made to send sick prisoners to a Chinese hospital, where they receive the best of care.

The Yamen, disappointing as it is in appearance, yet witnesses some stirring scenes, as when, not long ago, a quantity of opium and opium-smoking utensils were burned on the open ground in front of it in the presence of an interested throng of spectators. Not an opium den or shop exists in the Chinese City. Long ago they were effectually closed by order of the government.

The city is well policed. There has been a wonderful shaking up of the dry bones in that department in recent years, particularly since the revolution. The Chief of Police is chosen on the recommendation of the local military governor by the provincial governor at Nanking, but the Chief of the Fire Department is the choice of the people, and affairs of the department are wholly under their control. All the seven hundred members of the Fire Brigade are volunteers and serve without pay. Of late the brigade has attained a high grade of efficiency, and in the engine stations scattered over the city may be seen a very creditable equipment of modern machinery including some small motor cars. They must of necessity be small in order to get through the narrow streets. At the central station between the east and south gates stands a splendid tower supporting a bell weighing 6,000 lbs. which sounds the fire alarm not only in the city itself, but in the surrounding territory included in the Chinese municipality. This tower is the work of Shanghai’s engineering genius Nicholas Tzu, who patterned it after a small model of the Eiffel tower, but with changes that adapted it more perfectly to its present use. At a recent large fire in the city, the chiefs of the International and French Fire Brigades were present and looked on, but their assistance was not asked for nor was it needed, though the Chinese firemen were obliged to fight valiantly for three hours before they got control of the flames.

That the Chinese City is taking on thoroughly up-to-date airs will be generally conceded when it is known that strikes are becoming rather general. The latest one to break out was in the Dyers’ Union. The masses of the people in China dress in blue cotton. Indeed, so universally is it worn, that it might almost be called the national dress, consequently the business of dyeing is one of the most common and the Dyers’ Union is very strong. Since a Presidential mandate had gone forth that every labor union must be approved by the police, and as in this case the police interfered to put down the strike, it failed of its object. But a strike last winter was more successful. The women working in a silk filature mill within the Chinese precincts, though outside the Chinese City, were roused to fury by a reduction in their wages. Early one morning ninety or a hundred of them gathered at the mill gate and made such a clamour, pounding and shouting as only enraged Chinese women can, that the authorities, realizing that after all right was on the side of the strikers, were glad to effect a speedy and satisfactory compromise.

X

CUSTOMS OLD AND NEW

A student in a mission school for girls received an invitation from a young gentleman of her acquaintance to accompany him on a certain evening to a place of amusement. The note fell into the hands of the missionary in charge who sought an interview with the man. “It is against the rules of the school for our girls to go out unchaperoned,” she told him, “besides why do you make such a request? You know it is not Chinese custom.” “Ha, ha,” laughed the youth derisively, “perhaps it was not formerly, but now that we have a Republic we can do _anything_.”

Great changes and grave dangers accompanied the birth of the republic, and nowhere are they as apparent as in Shanghai. Old things are passing away and the new order is not yet firmly established. Young women are particularly sensitive to the changed conditions. In their eagerness to imitate the ways of the West, the real meaning of which many do not fully understand, liberty and license are often confused. But the girls must not be judged too harshly, for while some are unblushingly bold, others are like imprisoned birds who, suddenly finding the cage door ajar, pant to try their wings in the open. It is scarcely to be wondered at if sometimes they fly too far afield and drop back weary and bruised. The better class of students who have studied abroad are helping to set matters right. They show how it is possible for friends of both sexes to meet on the tramcars, on the street, or in one another’s homes and chat together naturally and yet modestly. It was with great gusto that a young matron who had never been out of China but associated freely with those who had, told of a picnic enjoyed by the mixed choir of the Chinese church to which she belonged. “We went down the river in a launch, taking our supper with us.” “Wasn’t it hard to carry Chinese food in baskets?” “Oh, we had foreign food--cake and sandwiches. I made some peanut sandwiches and every one seemed to like them.” “Were the picnickers all married people?” “No, some were not,” was the laughing reply. A Wellesley graduate who had been absent eight years from her Shanghai home was asked on her return what impressed her most. “The way my sister-in-law goes about the streets alone and even shops in the big stores.” “Wouldn’t she have done that before you went to America?” “I should say not! But now she doesn’t seem to think anything of it.” “How about your mother, does she go out too?” “No, mother prefers to follow the old customs, but she makes no objection to what we do.”

It is easy enough to view the social changes with fear and trembling and many of them are bad enough in their trend to justify any amount of anxiety, but there is a bright side and perhaps in deprecating the evil it has been too often overlooked. Nothing is more commendable than the loving comradeship that is growing up between husband and wife. This might be expected among students who have lived abroad and are used to foreign ways, but it is by no means confined to that class. “You have a pretty home,” commented a foreign friend to a bride of a year. Her husband was the editor of a popular Chinese daily and neither of them had ever been away from their native land. The bride beamed with pleasure. “Your lace curtains are hung so tastefully,” continued the caller. “Wasn’t it hard to show your servant how to do it?” “My husband and I hung them. We worked evenings after he came home from the office,” replied the blushing little wife. A few months later, when an expectant mother, she displayed with shy satisfaction, an exquisitely dainty layette, each tiny garment made with her own hands after a foreign pattern. “What a fine baby!” exclaimed another friend to the jubilant parents of their firstborn. “It is a boy, isn’t it?” “No, a girl,” corrected the father, gazing with fond pride into the tiny face of the rosy mite, “but she cries a good deal. I was up with her for three or four hours last night and had to walk with her most of the time to keep her from disturbing my wife.” “I was very glad to see your wife at my party on Friday,” remarked an American lady to a busy Chinese secretary. “Yes, I got off early from the office and went home to take care of the children so she could go. I wouldn’t have had her miss that pleasure for anything. My Margaret is such a good wife.”

When charming little Mrs. F. sailed for America to see a brother graduate at the University of California her husband was at the jetty looking after the baggage, and went with her on the launch down the river to where the ocean liner was anchored. Dr. Wu Ting Fang, ex-Minister to the United States and one of Shanghai’s best known citizens, meeting Dr. F. soon afterward, twitted him facetiously: “Oho, it used to be the custom in China for the husband to go away and the wife to stay at home with the family, and now it seems to be just the other way and the wife goes while the husband stays at home.” Dr. F., who, with the help of his mother and sister, was caring for his three little ones in Mrs. F.’s absence, laughed goodnaturedly and explained that it was he who had urged this trip on his wife. Once when this same husband was presiding at a formal banquet, it was noticed by those near him that in the midst of the festivities he quietly left his place and passed down to the other end of the long table. Mrs. F., detained it may be by putting the children to bed, had just come in, and Dr. F., not too engrossed in conversation to be watching for his wife, rose to draw out her chair and seat her in it with all the gallantry of a chevalier. The afternoon Mr. and Mrs. C. gave their “tea,” the young husband greeted the incoming guests at the door, while his wife, clad in soft white Chinese silk with a wreath of tiny pink rosebuds nestling against her black hair, presided over the tea-table with all the ease and grace of a society belle, and withal a sweet modesty which every society belle does not possess.

Perhaps these incidents, trifling in themselves, will possess small significance for the reader who has never lived in China, but to those who have they are encouraging signs that the leaven is working which of a certainty will by and by raise women all over the land from the position of mere chattels whose chief business is the bearing of children to be the equals and companions of their husbands. Dr. Arthur H. Smith, an authority in things Chinese, said recently in conversation, “I believe that the reorganization of the life of women in China is the most important sociological and educational event of modern times.”

Bound feet are becoming less and less the fashion in Shanghai. The increasing spread of physical training in all the schools is a great aid in favour of anti-footbinding, for the popular exercises can not well be taken on tiny feet. A medium course at present much in vogue is neither to let the feet alone nor bind them tightly, but by the use of comparatively loose bandages to prevent their growing too large. The little bound feet of old, common enough still in the interior, are in Shanghai generally looked upon with shame by the younger generation, who if they are so unfortunate as to own them, try to conceal their crippled members underneath long skirts or by wearing large shoes. It is not the women alone who frown upon bound feet. In many instances their husbands are equally opposed to them, men who a few years ago would have spurned a woman not swaying uncertainly on her much admired “Chinese Lilies.” A native teacher, supposed to be of the “old school,” was telling his foreign pupil of the recent death of his wife. “She fell down when crossing our courtyard and never regained consciousness.” “That was remarkable,” was the surprised answer. “How did she happen to fall?” “It was her small feet that did it. She lost her balance. But her feet were bound before I married her, or they never would have been bound.” “Then you disapprove of the custom and probably do not intend to bind the feet of your little daughters?” The man’s voice rose to an indignant pitch and with a vehemence quite unusual for a Chinese he ejaculated, “_I shall not!_”

Young men back from years of study in America or Europe, and there are many such in Shanghai, wear foreign clothes and look well in them. Some indeed are quite dudish in their attire. Many older men of the upper class on state occasions array themselves in dress suits and high hats, but in private life they ordinarily lay aside the torturing starched shirt and choking collar and resume their loose, comfortable Chinese garments. Women students on returning to China usually drop back at once into native dress, wherein they show their good sense, for besides the comfort of this style, nothing becomes them quite so well. Some years ago two girls from the interior arrived in Shanghai on their way to study medicine in America. They were told that in order to attract less attention on shipboard it would be well at once to adopt foreign dress, so they did, corsets and all. The older one’s description of her sensations is most amusing. “I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t eat. The food had no room to go down. I never felt so miserable.” “What did you do?” “I took the corsets off.” “How long had you worn them?” Mary held up a little forefinger, as she announced solemnly, “Just one awful day.”

The ultra-stylish dress of the “fast set” among young women in Shanghai is tight trousers, short tight jacket with short tight sleeves, and very high collars. To Western eyes this is neither pretty nor modest, and Chinese from the interior look upon it askance. Instead of bare heads, girls in winter are coming to wear, not hats, except those who have adopted foreign dress, but worsted caps, usually trimmed with coloured ribbon or artificial flowers. There is a shop on a busy street, called “Love Your Country Shop,” which deals largely in these fancy articles. Foreign shoes are also gradually taking the place of the cloth-soled, satin-topped Chinese shoes, and it is a wise change if women are to go much abroad in this city of heavy and frequent rains.

The old-time wedding procession is no longer an every day sight in the International Settlement, though happily for lovers of the antique, still common about the Chinese City. Carriages have to a large extent superseded the gorgeous sedan chairs, draped with embroidered crimson satin, and pale pink silk the orthodox crimson satin wedding gown. Veils are much worn too, and occasionally a very up-to-date bride is decked out in a gown of white silk or satin made in the most extreme Western fashion. More often, however, there is a painfully inartistic combination of Chinese and foreign styles. Little Miss Y. invited her foreign friends to inspect her trousseau shortly before her marriage. Garment after garment, evolved from heavy brocaded satin, sheeny silks, and gauzy web-like stuffs, was unfolded before admiring eyes. Finally the grand climax was reached when the wedding gown was brought in. The marvelous embroidery on the delicate pink silk evoked “Ohs” and “Ahs” of rapture, accompanied by exclamations such as “A perfect dream,” “I never saw anything so beautiful!” But when a common pink net veil, cheap white imitation flowers and coarse white cotton gloves bought at a foreign department store and plainly regarded as the crowning touches to the outfit were laid beside the exquisite Chinese gown, there were inward groans from the disappointed visitors. Miss Y. wore on the third finger of her left hand a heavy ring set with diamonds and pearls. On her wedding day she would have her band of gold like a Western bride. “You are very fond of the gentleman, of course,” some one asked her. The bright eyes dropped quickly as the low answer came back, “I have seen him only once.” “Were you alone?” “No, my aunt was in the room.” Plainly then, notwithstanding her foreign finery, this was not one of the so-called present day “liberty girls.”

The case of Miss W. was quite different. She and her fiancé had met and fallen in love in the good old-fashioned way. They were married by the bride’s father, an Episcopal clergyman, who, being tall and well-favoured, made a rather imposing figure in his priestly robe. After he had walked in and taken his place inside the chancel, a church warden to the strains of Lohengrin’s Wedding March ushered up the aisle with due ceremony the groom and best man. That done, they were left standing for fully ten minutes. The wedding march was played and re-played, the party at the altar shifted and turned while the audience craned their necks till they were sore in an effort to catch a glimpse of the incoming bride. What was the matter? Was she sick? Was she panic-stricken? Had an accident befallen the wedding dress? None of these calamities had overtaken the girl, who was dressed and ready to follow her fiancé into the church. But ancient marriage customs in China prescribe that a bride must be sent for again and again by the groom before, with tears and great reluctance, she is at last persuaded to leave her home. Although this was a modern wedding, it would not do to disregard wholly the time-honoured practice, hence a proper interval was allowed to elapse before the bride made her appearance. During the ceremony outbursts of laughter several times proceeded from the Chinese guests, many of whom had evidently never witnessed a Christian wedding and to whom the plighting of the troth and other passages were highly amusing. The bridal couple was not in the least disturbed by these demonstrations any more than when the warden from time to time stepped forward and taking one or the other by the arm, turned them around, or jerked them into proper position. Soon after the conclusion of the ceremony the bride retired and removed her veil, which was doubtless an uncomfortable if stylish appurtenance of which she was very glad to be rid.

Sometimes embarrassing situations are created because the young people are attracted to modern ways while their forbears much prefer the old. This happened recently when a law student just back from America married the girl to whom he had been betrothed before he left home. The bride wore a white satin gown with slit hobble skirt and fish-tail train, veil, kid gloves, slippers, and carried a shower bouquet. All was as modern as it was possible to have it, but at the last moment the groom was thrown into a state of great perturbation because of the refusal of his parents and their old-fashioned friends to attend the wedding. In his desire to have every arrangement conform to Western ideas he had omitted to send conveyances for his relatives, according to immemorial Chinese custom, and they were so incensed by the omission they refused to stir from their homes, although abundantly able to hire carriages or sedan-chairs as they might prefer. At the last moment, with the greatest difficulty, a sufficient number of vehicles was found and hurried off to bring the families to the wedding, but so offended were they that it required the utmost persuasion to induce them to come.

A Shanghai bride not long ago was taken to task by her friends for daring to show a glad countenance. “Don’t you know it is a bride’s duty to be sad and cry? Instead of that you look really happy,” they cried. “I _am_ happy, and why shouldn’t I look so?” she replied with fervour. But the high-water mark of self-assertion was reached when a Shanghai maid, the daughter of wealthy parents, declared that her acceptance of her suitor depended on whether he was willing to shave off his beard, to which demand he promptly and meekly acceded. Truly the order of things changeth in old China!

Shanghai has something of which no other city in China can boast, and that is a Nuptial Hall. Contracting parties who wish a modern wedding but have not homes suited for it may rent this building. It contains a guest hall, banquet room, and bed chambers, all nicely furnished. Here the newly wedded pair can remain if they choose, for a few days of their honeymoon or arrange for automobile or carriage to take them away at once.

Occasionally a clash occurs between customs past and present which results in tragedy. A while ago a youth and maiden, both teaching in a government school in Shanghai, fell deeply in love. The girl’s father heard of it but objected to his daughter’s marrying because she was the mainstay of the family, and he argued that filial duty required her to continue their support although perfectly competent to shoulder the burden himself. Taking her one day in a small boat to the middle of a deep stream near their home, he demanded of the girl that she give up her lover. When she loyally clung to him her inhuman parent threw her overboard and let her drown before his eyes. A few years ago a deed like this would have attracted little attention. “The girl belonged to her father and it is nobody’s business what he did to her,” would have been the popular verdict. But it is not so in Shanghai to-day. The papers were full of the awful crime, the broken-hearted lover carried the case to the Chinese Court, and so great a stir was made that no one will dare to repeat such an act, at least openly.

It can not be said that Shanghai has progressed beyond the stage of polygamy. Under the old régime, for a man to take one or many “secondary wives,” as they were called, was a well-nigh universal practice, but it has died out among the younger, educated classes and before long will be forever relegated to the past in the treaty ports. The women themselves are rising up in defence of one another. An interesting instance is that of a man who left a young wife of six months in Shanghai and disappeared for several years. When he came back, bringing a new wife with him, he repudiated the first. Her condition was very pitiful. Being at last turned out on the street by her husband’s relatives after the death of her child, she went to learn tailoring in a Singer Sewing Machine shop. It was at this juncture that the Chinese Woman’s Co-operative Association, composed of some of the leading women in Shanghai, espoused her cause. They distributed broadcast a circular which read: “The legitimate wife of ---- is too poor to engage a lawyer. We therefore ask those who sympathize with her to come to her assistance and see that she has justice, otherwise our two hundred million sisters will ever remain under the yoke of the other sex.” This resulted in the case being carried into the court and a fine imposed on the offender of eighty days’ imprisonment, pitifully inadequate yet a move in the right direction, and a victory for the band of progressive women.

Funeral ceremonies are undergoing a radical change in Shanghai though not so rapidly as marriage customs. Ancient observances are still held sacred by the majority, and through the streets trail the old-time funeral processions. Some are pathetic in their simplicity, a cheap unadorned coffin swinging from bamboo poles resting on the shoulders of coolies striding rapidly forward followed by a few mourners on wheelbarrows or in ricshas. Others are the long processions of the well-to-do, grotesquely spectacular. First come coolies in a straggling irregular line holding aloft tawdry banners and lanterns, after them priests, bands (often two, a Chinese and a foreign string band), paper images to be burned at the vault and trays of cooked food to be left there, the sedan-chair of the deceased and the carriage he may or may not have owned, quite empty save for a crayon portrait of him standing upright on the seat in the midst of wreaths of flowers and palm leaves, and finally the catafalque concealed under a crimson satin cover and surmounted by an imitation crane which is believed to carry heavenward the released spirit. Behind the coffin, borne by perspiring, hired coolies, the very lowest down in the social scale, for only such can be induced to act as pall-bearers, walk the adult sons as chief mourners. They are robed in white cotton with a strip of sackcloth as a head band or a sackcloth helmet. A sheet, spread out to form the three sides of a square and carried by coolies, furnishes a screen inside of which the men march. Following them in carriages are the widow, the daughters, and other relatives and friends. Even this is a strange mixture of old and present day usages, for formerly there were no carriages, no brass band, and above all no palm leaves, which in a non-Christian funeral are of course devoid of religious significance. Between the wholly modern funeral and one of this description there are varying degrees of transition. Often a hearse is used whose blackness is hidden under a wealth of bright blossoms covering sides as well as top, so that it has more the appearance of a gala trap than a conveyance for the dead. The Chinese have an inherent objection to sombre effects at a funeral, the mourners wearing white and the draperies being of the brightest colours.

A curious incident occurred recently which is a striking illustration of the way in which old and new customs may be said to elbow one another in their struggle for supremacy. A tired foreigner trying to sleep was disturbed by a persistent clatter of metal instruments and medley of voices close by. Finally in desperation he got up and looked out on the street, determined to locate the noise and if possible put a stop to it. It was summer weather and through the open windows of a neighbouring Chinese house he found himself the half unconscious observer of a strange scene. On the bed lay an old woman, evidently very sick, while a Chinese doctor and several assistants were running about the room with Chinese rattles and whistles, frightening away the evil spirit that had caused the malady. At last he was chased to the court below, where a pause was made, and the impudent intruder politely asked what his wishes might be. Replying that he desired to visit a neighbouring village he was told he could go, whereupon the relieved family shut and bolted the outer door after paying the doctor a fat fee for his services. This all took place under the very shadow of a group of the most up-to-date Municipal hospitals in Shanghai.

One of the hopeful signs of these later days in China is the changing attitude of the people toward physical exercise, for it means better health and better morals for the nation. Not long ago, really only a very few years, round shoulders were by every one highly commended, in the women as indicating modesty and in the men scholarly habits. A girl who held herself erect, with well developed chest, would have been set down at once as bold and forward, and not only that, but any kind of physical exertion was regarded by the upper classes, young and old alike, as coolie’s work and quite beneath their dignity. Some Chinese girls were watching a game of tennis for the first time, when one turned to her companion with a puzzled expression and the remark, “Can’t they get coolies to do that work for them?” Several Englishmen living in the western part of the city were in the habit of rising early every morning for a tramp in the country. The Chinese in the neighbourhood who saw them start out day after day were told the men walked for the pleasure of it, but they shook their heads incredulously, “We know they mean to worship at some secret shrine, for no one in his senses would work so hard if he didn’t have to” A couple of foreigners were crossing Garden Bridge when a troop of Chinese youths went rushing past with foot-balls tucked under their arms. Said the gentleman laughingly to his companion, “You wouldn’t have seen that a short time ago in Shanghai.” “Why? Because the boys were not playing ball?” “Yes, and neither would they have done such an unmannerly thing as to run. Just now they were so interested in the coming ball game they forgot all about appearances.”

In the spring of 1915 Shanghai witnessed a unique spectacle, something that will go down in history, and deservedly, as one of the great events in the life of the city. It was the Second Far Eastern Olympiad, the first having been held the year before in Manila. The Municipal Council turned over Shanghai’s finest park for the games, and the Young Men’s Christian Association fitted it up with the necessary accessories. No one who was there will ever forget that week. Many foreigners were present, but they were almost lost among the crowds of Chinese, for this was a distinctly Chinese celebration, just as it was meant to be. The élite Chinese turned out as well as the common people, men and women, young and old. Wide-eyed and tense, they watched their countrymen contest with crack players from Japan and the Philippines, and cheered tremendously when again and again the Chinese “won out.” It was good to look upon these lusty youths, who instead of cultivating long finger nails and cramping their chests after the manner of the old-time Chinese scholars, were clad in gymnasium tights, vaulting, running, swimming, batting, while their sires and grandsires forgot themselves and their traditions so far as to urge them on with shouts of approval.

Shortly afterward, under the auspices of the Young Women’s Christian Association, several hundred girls from mission and private schools gave a physical exhibition of their own. This was not open to the public, guests being admitted by ticket and only a few gentlemen invited. Some of the girls wore modified gymnasium suits, but most appeared in their ordinary school clothes. It was all-important that the conservatives should not be shocked, who were none too friendly to the idea of physical training for their daughters. Mothers, grandmothers, and aunts, their prejudice partly overcome by their curiosity, sat around in crowds on the borders of the grassy campus viewing the exercises, first with indifference, then interest, and at last, genuine enthusiasm. The leader was a young Chinese woman who received her training in Boston. These two events marked a new era in the physical development of Young China and the ravages of tuberculosis have received a check, while good, hard, honest work is understood, by athletes at least, as something not to be shunned as a disgrace.

XI

A TYPICAL SHANGHAI WEDDING

It was the day before the wedding. Downstairs in the home of the fiancé all was bustle and excitement. The marriage dowry, that for weeks had been collecting, was being made ready to carry over to the house of the groom’s father. Articles large and small, useful, and ornamental were scattered everywhere.

First, and most important of all, there was the trousseau. Each suit consisted of three pieces--trousers, skirt, and jacket--made of the same material. They were carefully folded and piled one on top of another in the regulation bridal trunks, which are moderate sized wooden boxes covered with glossy red or brown oilcloth. Though the family was greatly rushed, still as relatives and friends dropped in to watch the proceedings and offer congratulations, the more elaborate costumes were taken out with ill-concealed pride and held up for inspection. And they were worth seeing! Silks, brocaded satins, crêpes, gauzes, ranging in colour from the palest hues of pink, green, blue, and violet, down to rich crimson, dark grey, brown, and even black, lay together in bewildering profusion. Some were delicate as sea-foam, others handsome but quiet, while the splendidly embroidered ones might well have rejoiced the heart of a princess. The jewels were arranged to show off to the best advantage in numerous small glass-covered cases. They presented a dazzling array--bracelets, rings, buckles, necklaces, hair ornaments. Diamonds, rubies, pearls, sapphires, shone resplendent, but jade was the principal stone.

The bride’s wardrobe, however, though of absorbing interest, was only one portion of her dowry. The rest of the outfit blocked the way in every direction. The usual sets of graded wooden tubs, pails, and chests with conspicuous brass locks occupied the entire side of one room. These were painted either a rich red or brown and highly polished. On the other side of the room the most conspicuous object was a couch or divan weighed down under a huge pile of quilts. No Chinese girl goes to her husband’s home without a collection of bed-coverings. Though differing greatly in number and elegance, always they are of bright colours and folded lengthwise with exquisite neatness. In this case most of the quilts were of the costliest materials, flowered silks, figured satins, with a few gay prints and soft cashmeres for summer use.

In an adjoining apartment was a set of bedroom furniture in carved teakwood, wardrobe, table, chairs, and washstand. The ornate brass bed was of foreign make. The silk curtains and silver ornaments with which it was later to be hung, were temporarily reposing in one of the many chests. Embossed silver teasets of Chinese pattern, silver and ivory chopsticks, foreign glass finger bowls, gaudy native silver wine cups, bonbon dishes, jewelry cases, hand-painted scrolls, silk banners, later to be converted into gowns for the bride, these were but a few of the riches lavished on the girl sitting apart in an upper chamber, shy, half afraid, wholly expectant.

The list of attractions on this great occasion would be incomplete were mention not made of the trays of edibles, fruits, fancy cakes, and confections of marvellous variety, intended as a gift from the bride’s parents to the family of the groom. On the evening of the wedding day the groom’s parents will return the compliment by sending to the bride’s home a sumptuous repast consisting of cakes, fruit, cooked fowls, fish, and one, possibly three or four, roasted pigs. After roasting the pig is coated over with sesame oil, which hardens when exposed to the air and imparts an appetizing gloss to the skin. The animal is carried through the streets by coolies in a red tray suspended from poles, to the admiration of all onlookers and the despair of the hungry. On arriving at its destination, the upper part of the head, and the tail, with a thin slice of meat attached to it, are cut away and returned to the donors. This is done to insure the uninterrupted bliss of the young couple, since the head and tail of the pig represent the beginning and end of happiness in the lives of the newly wed.

It was no light contract to get such a generous marriage dowry conveyed safely from one home to the other. Early in the morning preparations began, yet by three in the afternoon the procession had not started. People were flying to and fro. Coolie bearers with long bamboo poles stood around in every one’s way, talking in loud shrill tones. In a side room sat a scholarly mandarin writing Chinese characters on slips of red paper. These were pasted vertically across each chest beside the lock and served the double purpose of announcing the name of the bride and adding to the safety of the contents of the chest in transit, since it could not be opened without tearing the paper. The quilts were fastened securely to the couch on which they lay by an ornamental network of red cord. Smaller articles, placed on box-shaped trays, were in like manner made secure from pilfering fingers. Red paper cards, red ribbon and flowers figured prominently as decorations. As one by one the pieces were made ready they were taken to the street and fastened by ropes to the coolies’ carrying poles. When the long procession was complete and awaiting the order to start, a gayer scene could scarcely be imagined. The bride’s entire dowry, excepting her trousseau, was in full view of curious eyes, that all spectators along the route might be duly impressed with the family wealth. Leading off were two closed carriages (a short time ago they would have been sedan chairs), in each of which sat in state two gentlemen “go-betweens,” whose particular mission at this time was to convey the cases containing the jewels to the home of the groom. But alas for human pride and ambition! Just at the critical moment, when the coachman had whipped the horses into action, the coolies raised the poles to their shoulders, and a tremor undulated down the whole line--a few drops of rain fell. Then such a scurrying of feet ensued as servants rushed into the house for pieces of oiled cloth to protect perishable treasures! So it was with eclipsed glory that the parade eventually started on its way, to the vast disappointment of all concerned.

On the day of the wedding the centre of interest was transferred from the bride’s home to that of the groom. He lived in a three-story mansion, becoming the rank of his father, who was a high official holding a responsible government position. At the gate of the compound, or grounds, were stationed several Chinese policemen whose chief business was to keep the motley crowd outside from encroaching on the premises. But either they were unequal to their task, or what is more likely, condoned the intrusion of the ragamuffins, for more and more of the nondescript element drifted past the sentinels, till the yard in front was well filled. The arched gateway and main entrance to the dwelling were decorated with flowers and greens, while along the wide veranda was suspended a row of mammoth lanterns, gorgeous with crimson silk trimmings and tassels. At one end of the veranda hung strings of firecrackers, yards and yards in length, lending an added splash of colour to the picture. The house was built around the four sides of a glass-covered court, with galleries on the second and third stories from which the rooms opened. Two bands were stationed in the court, one Chinese and the other Filipino, the latter a contingent from the Municipal Band of the International Settlement. The contrast between them was ludicrous. The Filipinos in fresh uniforms with shining instruments sat erect before their leader and played with spirit. The ten or a dozen Chinese were of all ages, their rags showing beneath faded red jackets and in their hands a collection of indescribable instruments on which from time to time they blew, pounded and pulled, to the evident enjoyment of all the guests but the few suffering foreigners present. Beyond the court was the reception hall. As it was entirely open in front, its magnificence caught and held the gaze immediately on entering the front door. The walls were ablaze with crimson satin banners, while crimson satin covered the chairs and tables, every piece of it, like the banners, elegantly embroidered. Wedding decorations are rented for the occasion as it would cost a small fortune to buy them. The ground floor was mainly given up to the men, who sat around in the ante-rooms, in social groups, sipping tea and wine, and smoking.

Upstairs the women of the family held court. As guests arrived they were conducted at once to the bridal chamber, a large bright room, decked out with the furniture and bric-a-brac sent over the day before from the bride’s home. The bed was the most striking object, for the white silken curtains were carefully hung, though almost hidden under a glittering assortment of quaint and rare ornaments in wrought silver, nearly all of them possessing some symbolical meaning. The carved teakwood table covered with a heavy white satin spread embroidered in peach blossoms, stood in the centre of the room. So many gifts had been sent by friends to swell the marriage dowry, that the bridal chamber and room back of it could scarcely contain them all. Frequently next to an exquisite bit of ivory or jade would repose a cheap glass vase or china matchbox that looked as if it might have come from a ten-cent store in America. In an adjoining apartment stood a table set in foreign style. The table-cloth was a strip of coarse cotton sheeting, and on it were placed fancy china dishes heaped with all manner of cakes, fruit, and confections. Even such accessories as knives and forks, and tiny napkins embroidered around the edge in deep blue were not lacking. In the centre was a spreading floral piece of remarkable design. To beguile the time while waiting for the coming of the bride, guests were invited to partake of the refreshments, which they did freely.

The hours passed slowly by. One o’clock had been named in the invitations as the time of the wedding, but three struck and no bride. Four o’clock rolled around and still no signs of her. Indeed, not a Chinese guest expected her, for had the bride made her appearance promptly, she would have been committing a shocking and unpardonable breach of etiquette. Several times, according to custom, the bridegroom had sent his messengers to bring her, but without avail. The bridegroom must go himself. At last, late in the afternoon, the word passed around, amid a wild flurry of excitement, that he was about to set out. He left in a closed carriage drawn by a span of horses with coachman and footman. His two little sisters, flower-girls, in white foreign dresses, pink sashes and hair ribbons, followed in another carriage. The foreign band went too, on foot, while the Chinese musicians exerted themselves with commendable energy to keep up the flagging spirits of the waiting guests.

The minutes dragged heavily till an hour had gone by. During the interval there were occasional breaks in the monotony. Coolies hurried in with belated wedding gifts, women servants of the bride arrived bearing additional jewel cases, and finally three men walked in, importantly. Two wore Chinese dress, the third one foreign clothes of the best modern cut. It was whispered around that he had come all the way from Peking to act as chief functionary at the ceremony. Presently the bridegroom’s carriage rolled into the compound. The excitement then rose to a tremendous pitch and every one who was not already crowding forward rushed to the entrance and the front verandas. Soon the glad shout arose on every side: “The bride is coming! The bride is coming!” First in through the gateway marched the Filipinos playing a stirring air. Close behind was the carriage of the flower girls, and then came the bride, riding alone. Her carriage on top had the appearance of a flower garden with its elaborate rainbow-coloured trimmings. The horses’ harness too was gaily decorated. But the poor animals were badly frightened when a match was set to the firecrackers and boom after boom rent the air. They reared and pranced, and though a footman held tightly to each bridle, it seemed for a moment or two as if the carriage with its precious burden would not succeed in getting safely inside the gate. By this time the policemen had abandoned all effort to control the street mob, and they poured into the compound, a gaping throng, in strange contrast to their brilliant surroundings.

The little flower girls, carrying beautiful floral baskets, had tripped lightly to the ground, when an intimate woman friend of the bride’s family stepped forward to open the coach door for the bride. Not a glimpse had been had of her, for the blinds were closely drawn. Very slowly she dismounted as custom required, but had the poor child wished ever so much to hurry, she would have been too seriously hampered by her attire to do so. Delicate satin slippers encased her small though unbound feet. Her gown was of old rose satin, stiff with embroidery. Over her little shapely hands were drawn loose-fitting cotton gloves. Necklaces without number, of extraordinary design, nearly hid the waist of her dress in front, while quantities of gold and jade bracelets encircled her slender wrists. But the most amazing creation of all was the bride’s headgear. It was the time-honoured helmet, worn for centuries back in these parts by Chinese brides, but seldom seen nowadays in Shanghai. Studded with brilliants and coloured glass, and encircled with strings of bangles that fell around and almost concealed the girl’s face, the weight must have been enough to bow down, without any effort to appear modest, the head that had to sustain it. But, O, ye shades of a stereotyped past, what is this grand climax to the bride’s dress which now rivets the attention of the astonished beholder! Can it be? yes, it certainly is--a modern wedding veil of white net, gathered above the helmet in a tuft-like bunch and falling around the bride to her feet in billowy folds! The towering crown wavered uncertainly, as, guided by her chaperon, the girl moved deliberately toward the house.