quantities of merchandise are handled daily. Besides wheelbarrows,
and coolies who carry loads suspended by ropes from poles resting on
their shoulders, men-drawn carts are constantly in requisition. Coolies
take the place of horses and mules as beasts of burden. It is true
that the foreign hotels and many foreign firms have their wagons and
vans, nowadays they are oftener motor cars, but these vehicles of
Western manufacture are far outnumbered by native hand-pulled carts.
The carts are of the simplest design, several oblong planks nailed
together and set on two wheels. Most of the loads have to be tied on
with ropes, and no account is taken of weight. The coolies’ muscle
is not spared. Three, four, or more coolies are stationed in front
of the cart to pull, with often several at the back to push. Stout
ropes fifteen or twenty feet long are fastened by one end to the cart
and knotted at the other. Each coolie takes a rope, passes it over
his shoulder, changing occasionally for relief from one to the other,
and grasps the knot with both hands. If the load is extremely heavy,
such as iron rods or building stone, the pullers even on level ground
are obliged to stop frequently to rest and recover breath. But it is
when crossing the arched bridges over Soochow Creek that the tug of
war comes. The forward coolies bend almost double, while those at the
rear push with might and main till their faces are congested and it
seems as if they must burst every blood-vessel in their bodies. But
perhaps the cart does not yield an inch. After a moment’s rest another
effort is made. This time the coolies at the back grasp the wheels and
at last succeed in turning them ever so little, while slowly, very,
very slowly the cart is drawn up the incline. When the highest point
of the bridge is reached, unless the road in front is clear, there
is another pause. Then the coolies who have been pushing, pull back,
assisted by some of the others, while the forward coolies rush ahead in
the liveliest manner to keep from being hit by the cart. It impresses
foreigners as a cruel way of getting work done and draws painfully
on their sympathies, but if a sudden change were made to horse power,
the carters would doubtless be the first ones to raise a hue and cry
against it.
VII
A PEEP INTO THE SCHOOLROOM
“How many schools for the Chinese, not counting missionary schools, are
there in Shanghai?” The question was asked of a Y.M.C.A. secretary, who
with others had just completed a canvass of the city with reference to
its educational facilities. “It is not possible to tell exactly,” he
replied, puckering his brow. “As nearly as we could find out, there
are at least five hundred, probably more. Of course that list does not
include the schools for girls. Miss Blank can tell you about them.” The
Chairman of the Committee on the Investigation of Girls’ Schools was
interviewed. She brought out her maps, charts, and reports, and spread
them on the table. “It was such a difficult search,” she explained.
“We discovered between thirty and forty boarding schools alone, but it
is almost certain that does not include all. Some of them were hidden
away in the queerest places.” “What a difference in the number of
schools for girls compared with those for boys!” exclaimed her visitor.
“Oh, well, you must remember we made no effort to tabulate the little
day-schools. They seemed to be legion and met us at every turn.” The
large majority of the schools enumerated were established after 1900,
and very many sprang up at the time of the revolution in 1911, or
quickly following it.
[Illustration: ADVERTISING SINGER SEWING MACHINE PRODUCTS]
From these statistics it might appear that the education of the
children of Shanghai was fairly well provided for, but with no
compulsory system, thousands that are employed in mills and factories,
bound out as apprentices, thrust forth to beg or allowed to loaf, never
cross the threshold of a schoolroom.
The Municipality of the International Settlement supports four large
public schools for Chinese boys (there are none for girls), the ground
in each instance having been donated by philanthropic Chinese, and
the native residents in the Settlement, who form the bulk of the
population, paying their share of the taxes on the buildings.
One of the handsomest buildings in the French Concession is a public
school for Chinese boys.
Private schools, or as they are termed “Gentry Schools,” are very
popular with the Chinese. In Shanghai this class far outnumbers all
others, and it is moreover an interesting fact that of the schools
under government control very many were started by an individual or
group of individuals as private enterprises. China is a nation that
reverences learning above all else. Not a scrap of paper that has
written or printed on it even a single “character” is willingly allowed
to be blown about carelessly or trampled under foot. These precious
bits, soiled and torn though they may be, are laboriously picked up
by men or boys armed with tongs or pin-pointed sticks, who travel to
and fro through the streets in search of them. The well-to-do hire
proxies to perform this meritorious work. The paper is carried to the
public ovens, where it is burned, and the ashes afterward thrown out
in the river. The belief is millenniums old that heaven vouchsafes
special blessings to those who show due regard for the sacred symbols
of knowledge. It follows then quite naturally that to open and maintain
a school ranks with the Chinese among the highest forms of service one
can render to mankind.
Since Western education has been introduced, many of China’s best
young men have dedicated their lives and fortunes to popularizing it.
Among the numerous examples that could be cited in Shanghai alone, the
Akademio Utopia is one. Four years ago a group of ten zealous young men
started a school in a small rented building. They had little capital,
but each one agreed to devote twenty per cent of his income to meeting
the running expenses. Several who had studied abroad gave also of their
time and taught one or more classes. The principal was a graduate of
Cornell University and the first Chinese student from that institution
to be elected to Phi Beta Kappa. The current expenses were soon met,
or nearly so, by the fees of the students, whose number quickly ran up
to over a hundred, but when it became necessary to build, the young
promoters again put their hands in their pockets, and out of their
modest earnings gave most liberally. The principal’s father offered him
financial help but in a spirit of manly independence he refused it,
preferring to depend on his own and the school’s resources. The fine
new building is finished and in use, though plain benches take the
place of desks which will be added later, together with other needed
furnishings, as the debt is gradually paid off.
In the plebeian district of the Settlement, on a street little
frequented by foreigners, is a boarding and day-school attended by five
hundred and fifty boys. Unlike the former school, this one started
full-fledged the year of the Boxer Rebellion, which witnessed the
birth of so many new enterprises. The plant consists of three brick
buildings, the middle one surmounted by a stately clock tower, and
all connected by covered passageways. The main building is divided
from front to back into parallel sections, with open courts between,
though joined on the upper story by bridges. In this way good light
and air are secured for each of the forty-six rooms. There is a
laboratory, a science class-room with seats in amphitheatre style, a
library containing both Chinese and English books, a hall dedicated
to Confucius whose walls are hung with scrolls inscribed with
quotations from the writings of the Sage and where the students gather
semi-annually for worship, and finally a reception-room, having as its
chief ornament a portrait of the founder of the school. The founder
began life as a poor boatman. By careful saving of his earnings he was
by and by able to open a small metal-ware shop. Possessed of great
business sagacity, he rose step by step, gradually amassing wealth,
until he became a millionaire. Though he never learned to read and
write, this self-made man had ideals and gave liberally for the free
education of the poor. When he was past sixty he conceived the idea of
founding a school as the best and most lasting memorial of himself he
could leave to the city. The plans were made and the building begun,
though the philanthropist did not live to see it completed. A statue is
soon to be erected in his honour by a company of Shanghai merchants.
The founder’s sons built a beautiful little memorial temple to their
father on the school area between the playground and the out-of-doors
gymnasium, and thither they resort at stated intervals to prostrate
themselves before the ancestral tablets, as the students do in front of
the philanthropist’s portrait in the reception hall. But they have no
love for learning and take no interest whatever in the school, which
goes to prove that not all the conservatives lived in the past century
nor that all of the progressives are confined to the new. The fees are
kept low, board and tuition for the entire school year of ten months
and a half costing less than twenty-four dollars. Fifty of the boys are
charity pupils. English and French are taught, the latter by a graduate
of the school, and there is a small industrial department. The course
of study extends through eleven years and carries the student up to
about the third year in a home High School.
Close to the South Gate of the Chinese City, or where the South Gate
formerly stood, is a plain red brick building called in English “The
Shanghai High School.” The interior arrangement could not be simpler,
a hall running through the middle, which is also a dining-room for
the boarders, and class-rooms opening off from it on either side.
Above are dormitories. In this building and three smaller ones on
the grounds, five hundred boys, half of them boarders, whose ages
average sixteen, are receiving a thorough education. A foreign educator
remarked when visiting the school, “This shows what excellent work
the Chinese can do with a very modest equipment, which, after all,
answers in every way to their actual needs.” The story of this school
is worth repeating. Thirteen years ago four progressive brothers banded
together to help educate the youth of Shanghai. Not having sufficient
money to purchase a suitable site and erect a building, they fitted up
the family residence for a school, supporting it largely with their
own funds. Three of the brothers are successful business men, and the
fourth became the principal. He is a graduate of St. John’s University
of the Protestant Episcopal Mission in Shanghai, a man in his early
prime, of scholarly tastes and habits. Hardly had the doors of the
school been opened when ninety boys flocked to it, and the number
increased so rapidly that within a year or two it became necessary
to look for more commodious quarters. The school in the meantime had
received recognition from the local government and was given an annual
grant-in-aid. The Chinese Municipality donated some of the public
land for a site for the new plant, and in 1909 the present edifice
was completed. Thirty teachers are employed, three of them being
foreigners, and women. Speaking one day of the qualifications of his
foreign teachers, reference was made by a friend to the fact that one
of them had graduated with honour from the University of Edinburgh.
“Yes,” said the principal smilingly, “I consider myself fortunate in
securing her, but I always seek the very best for my school, for it is
my purpose to maintain the highest standard.” And that he does maintain
it was proved when several of his students on examination entered St.
John’s University unconditioned, the first time a school under Chinese
management had attained such distinction.
Four years after the brothers started their venture, their three
sisters launched a school for girls. This school, like the other, had
a small beginning, but from the first was a pronounced success. Later,
its promotors were also given public land on which to build, and what
is more, bricks from the city wall, at that time in process of being
torn down, were donated for building material. Can the imagination
conjure up anything more strange and romantic than a part of the old
storied walls metamorphosed into a school for Chinese girls? How the
city fathers who planned those walls, to say nothing of Confucius
himself, whose prophetic eye caught no vision of a liberally educated
womanhood, would have shrunk in horror from such unseemly desecration!
The sisters are all married, one being a widow, and with their families
live in neat apartments in the rear of the school. They are well-to-do,
and teach for love’s sake rather than for the money there is in it.
Indeed, the school has not yet become self-supporting. One teacher is
principal, another supervises the classes in embroidery, and the third
manages the business. The one hundred and thirty bright-faced pupils,
besides the common branches, are taught music, drawing, painting, and
plain sewing. They receive regular instruction in physical training
from a young Chinese woman who had her own education in Boston. The
school has been honoured with medals from several expositions to which
specimens of beautiful embroidery and drawings have been sent.
Fifty years ago a baby girl destined for an unusual career was born
in one of the patrician Chinese homes in Shanghai. She was reared in
luxury and given the meagre education at home usually accorded by
indulgent parents to girls in her position. Allowed by choice to remain
unmarried, she eventually allied herself with a society of austere
Buddhist religionists known as “vegetarians.” Years rolled by, till the
girl, grown to womanhood, had passed her thirty-ninth birthday. She had
long observed that her father was a liberal-minded man, and that his
benefactions were frequently in aid of schools for girls, which were
gradually becoming common. “If my father is interested in the education
of girls,” she reasoned within herself, “why should I not open a school
and he help _me_?” But when she mentioned the plan to her father he
frowned upon it harshly, and her stepmother was even more violent in
her opposition. Education might be condoned in others, but no daughter
of theirs needed more than she had, and much less should she aspire to
be a medium for encouraging it. Moreover, the father realized the young
woman’s marked ability, and had plans of his own respecting the help
she would by and by render him in the management of his estate. The
more she was opposed, however, the stronger grew her purpose, until
finally the controversy led to her being practically disinherited and
driven from the parental roof. She had a little money with which she
managed to open a small school, and then sold her jewels to keep it
running. That was twelve years ago. Twice she has moved, the last time,
in the spring of 1914, to a handsome new building she erected herself
largely with the portion of her inheritance she was able to secure when
her father died. There was a notable “opening” to which many Chinese
guests and a few favored foreigners were invited. On the wall of the
Assembly Room hung a large portrait of the principal’s father, for the
flower of filial piety rarely dies in China, no matter how rough the
winds that blow upon it. Chinese flags were draped over the platform
and fluttered from pillar to post. In the side rooms the industrial
work of the girls was on exhibition and a fine collation set forth.
The building and grounds of this school are always kept neat and
attractive, and no matter what hour of the day the unexpected visitor
arrives, he is sure to find dormitories and hall, and even dining-room,
kitchen, and laundry worthy of the closest inspection. The kindergarten
building is slightly separated from the main one, and it would be hard
to find anywhere a more perfect model of its kind. Mothers’ Meetings
are held from time to time when practicable. Matters relating to the
child’s moral, mental, and physical well-being are frankly discussed.
“Commencement Day” is observed with great éclat. Last year, four
“sweet girl graduates” sat on the platform, all dressed alike, in white
Chinese silk made in Chinese style, white slippers with foreign heels,
and tiny blue ribbon bows at the neck, and bands of narrow blue ribbon
around their hair. The class colours were blue and white, and behind
the girls hung their class banner, bearing on a white ground their
motto “Excelsior” in blue letters. Each graduate had prepared an essay
in English, but only one was read, “The Influence and Responsibility
of the Young Women of China.” In thought and language it would have
done credit to a school-girl in any land. The others wrote on, “The
Need of Compulsory Education,” “The Evils of the Cigarette Habit,” and
“The Advantages of an Education in China Over That Received Abroad.”
Songs, piano solos, duets, and eight-handed pieces, recitations in
French and English, and an eloquent address on “The Value of Education
for Women,” by the Chinese Commissioner of Foreign Affairs, completed
the programme, which throughout was of an exceptionally high order.
Then came the closing scene as a delightful climax. Dr. Wu Ting Fang,
former Minister to the United States, presented to each graduate a
diploma tied with ribbon in approved Western style, which he received
from the hand of the principal. It was hard to realize that the little
woman standing beside Dr. Wu, so modest and retiring, in simple, dark
Chinese dress, her hair combed straight back from her face in old-time
Chinese fashion, was the promoter and controlling spirit of this most
successful up-to-date school. She speaks no English and prefers to
keep in the background as much as possible, yet hers is an unusual
personality. Though not a professing Christian she is a believer in
heart and is quite a regular attendant at a Protestant Episcopal
Mission Church.
Another popular school for girls is known generally as the “Suffragette
School.” Like so many others, its existence began at the close of the
recent revolution, and grew out of it. The exigencies of the revolution
brought women into the public arena as they had never thought of
figuring before. A few who had studied medicine went to the front as
doctors and many more as Red Cross nurses. A large number acted as
spies, secreted refugees, carried ammunition to the soldiers, and
sacrificed property and life itself for their country. From various
quarters there gathered in Shanghai a hundred or so school-girls, most
of them runaways, fired with an all-consuming if misguided desire to
aid their country, who donned uniforms, shouldered arms, drilled,
and begged to be allowed to march at once to the firing-line, which
fortunately for them they were not permitted to do. They were known as
the “Amazons.” All these events, however, so stirred the patriotism
of the women of Shanghai that a numerous company banded together to
raise money for the revolution, which they did very successfully. When
the fighting ceased, instead of disbanding they formed themselves
into a permanent organization under the name of “The Chinese Woman’s
Co-operative Association.” Its purpose was to protect the interests
of women in general, and in particular to gain for them the right of
suffrage.
The society is still in existence, though greatly modified in tone and
reduced in numbers by the elimination of the most rabid and troublesome
spirits. Occasional meetings are held and men are frequently invited
to address them, a woman occupying the chair. The principal work done
by this Association since the revolution has been the founding and
fostering of the Suffragette School, with the idea of inculcating
advanced ideas in the minds of the young. At first the teachers, all
of them women, worked without salary, and turned with disdain from men
and marriage. While the curriculum includes Western studies, particular
emphasis is laid on Chinese subjects, especially the writing of Chinese
characters, which the pupils do exceedingly well. They are encouraged
to make their clothes of Chinese cloth, use Chinese furnishings
in their homes and preserve the old-time customs and the old-time
beliefs; in short, to be Chinese to the backbone and independent of the
foreigners’ supplies and the foreigners’ religion.
The school has prospered better numerically than financially. An
interested missionary was talking one day about the school to Miss C.,
a recent graduate of Wellesley College and a relative of the principal.
“You say the school is poor?” “Not poor in the quality of work done,
but, O yes, very poor in money.” “What is the reason of that?” “Well,
it hasn’t financial supporters. You see, right after the revolution
so many women were enthusiastic about suffrage. But they are not now
in the same way, and they don’t take as much interest in keeping up
the school.” “What do you think makes them less interested in the
question of suffrage?” “They don’t believe the time has come in China
to push it. Other things they feel are at present more important and
necessary.” “What is your personal opinion?” The bright eyes of the
young woman rested an instant thoughtfully on her questioner, then came
the decided reply, “I am sure we are not ready to vote yet, and it is a
mistake to divert our thoughts from greater needs by thinking of it and
working for it.”
More and more as the New Learning is crowding out the old-time
impractical methods, the desire grows to relate the work of the
schools to the life of the people. Hitherto industrial training has
received little attention in China, but the Republic has been gradually
awakening to its importance, so that to-day schools of this kind are
the ones that appeal most strongly to the popular mind and receive the
readiest support from governmental and private sources. In Shanghai,
commercial and industrial schools, or schools that have added these
departments to their curricula, are constantly on the increase.
The World’s Chinese Students’ Federation, with headquarters at
Shanghai, is carrying on both day and evening schools which are largely
attended. The teachers give their services free and are young men
of independent means, or those who are able and willing to devote a
portion of their time to this work. The principal is only twenty-one, a
graduate of the Young Men’s Christian Association school and unusually
gifted.
The leading institution in Shanghai under Chinese auspices is the
Government Institute of Technology. As in the case of so many other
educational enterprises, this one received its initial impulse from
an individual, a man high in government employ. It began in 1897 as a
Normal School, then added Preparatory and Grammar School departments,
and finally, under the skillful leadership of Dr. John C. Ferguson,
developed into Nanyang College, still later adding courses in civil
and electrical engineering, and changing its name to “The Government
School of Technology.” The handsome buildings in the midst of spacious
well-kept grounds, the complete equipment, fine corps of teachers,
eight of whom are Americans, the standard of work maintained, and the
character of the large student body, all combine to make this a school
Shanghai may well be proud of. A few of the best students are sent each
year to Europe and America for a period of practical training.
The Mining and Railway College is not so large nor so old an
institution, but in its way quite as remarkable. Its founder, who is
also its president, is a young man in his early thirties, with a finely
chiselled, scholarly face and gracious manner. When travelling abroad
after finishing his education at Queen’s College in Hongkong, he became
convinced that what China required more than almost anything else was
trained engineers. So four years ago (many things happened in Shanghai
four years ago), unaided, he started this school, giving himself and
his money without reserve to the work. Already the students number
two hundred and sixty, as promising a body of young men as one would
wish to see. They come from nearly every province in the country and a
few from Java. Five of the fifteen teachers have studied abroad, but
only one is a foreigner, a Belgian who teaches mining and mineralogy.
The entering students are put at once into English classes and it is
remarkable what they accomplish in a single year. A specialty is made
of chirography, “for,” says the president, “unless the boys learn to
form their letters carefully, they will not draw well, and as engineers
they must do that.”
The School of Medicine and of Engineering, carried on by the Germans
for Chinese students, is unique in its way. An eminent physicist in
Shanghai has said that in his opinion it is the greatest institution
in China. The school, its two departments being entirely distinct, is
not missionary nor even philanthropic in character. This is simply a
business enterprise fostered by the German government for business
purposes. They give the best training in return for what, to the
Chinese, are heavy fees, in order that these men may be prepared later
to work in their employ. The teaching force is of the highest grade and
the scientific equipment as perfect as the means provided can make it.
[Illustration: MISS ZEE’S NEW SCHOOL BUILDING. KINDERGARTEN IN THE REAR]