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.”
[Illustration: A MODERN CHEVALIER AND HIS HAPPY FAMILY]
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.”
[Illustration: THE COFFIN IN A FUNERAL PROCESSION]
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.