AMUSEMENTS
Chinese a laughter-loving people--Fond of society--Sources of
amusements few--No seaside outings or holidays--New Year's
time--Dragon boat festival--Feast of Tombs--Theatricals--Battledore
and shuttlecock--Kites--Punch and Judy.
The Chinese are a laughter-loving people, and their broad,
unaesthetic-looking faces seem to have been made with a wide and generous
area, in order to allow their latent humour to have plenty of scope for
its expansion.
No matter what a Chinaman does, there always seems to be a comical element
about it that provokes one to smile. With other nationalities, when
certain unpleasant things are done, one is inclined to be roused to sudden
passion and to strong and vigorous language, and a feeling of indignation
that takes a long time to die out. With a Chinaman the experience is quite
different. He does something most aggravating, and your mind is filled
with the deepest resentment, and you feel as though you could never
forgive him. You look with indignation upon the man who has offended you.
As you gaze at him, the subtle humour that somehow or other seems to lie
about his yellow homely features grips you, and you find a smile rising to
your face and your anger explodes in laughter.
There are no people in the world that seem to have such a hypnotizing
power over the men of the West as the Chinese. It is not their beauty or
their eloquence, nor the fascinating way in which they talk, but in the
large amount of human nature they all possess, and in the strain of humour
that seems to run through them as music does through an exquisite piece of
poetry.
From this it may be easily believed that they are fond of laughter and
merriment and the bright and joyous side of things, and social
intercourse, and plenty of company, and loud-sounding music and firing of
crackers. The solitary feeling that makes an Englishman like to be alone,
and shut himself up day after day in a house by himself and not care to
see visitors, is something that is quite incomprehensible to a Chinaman.
A man rents a house, for example, and he finds that in the other rooms
that are built round an open courtyard there are one or two other families
already residing. He welcomes this as one of the advantages that the house
he has taken possesses. He comes in with smiling face, and remarks how
very cheerful everything is. His wife stands by his side and expresses her
pleasure that there are so many people close by them, so that they need
not feel dull or lonely. They are both received with overflowing
expressions of welcome, and are assured that their coming is an immense
comfort, and will make their homes much more cheery and enjoyable than
they would be without them.
Their love for their fellow-kind is a passion with the Chinese, and they
seem to be able to stand an amount of noise and loud talking and screaming
babies and barking of dogs, such as would send an Englishman off his head.
Now, many of the sources of amusement that are open to the people of the
West have no existence in this country whatever. They have no Sunday on
which they can lay aside the eternal round of work, and forget for one day
that life is a treadmill which never stops its grinding. There are no
stated holidays, when people rush off to the seaside or to the moors or to
some fishing stream, where midst the hills they can forget the heat and
pressure of the city. The legislators of China have never dreamed that any
one needed a vacation. The school-boys, indeed, after eleven months of
cramped school life have been thought worthy of a month's holidays at the
end of the year, but the grown-up people have to work. Without that, large
sections of the community under present conditions would starve.
The most serious thing of all, however, is the illiterate character of the
people. It has been reckoned by competent critics that only ten, or at the
most fifteen, millions out of the four hundred can read. The result is
that, excepting in the houses of the favoured few, there are no books or
magazines or pictures, or, in fact, literature of any kind in the vast
majority of the homes into which one may enter. What this means for the
young people, full of restlessness and with an immense fund of animal
spirits, may be more easily imagined than understood.
In their idle hours or during the dark nights of winter, they are thrown
upon their own resources, and as these are extremely limited, it is no
wonder that the young fellows take to the only things that they can think
of to while the hours away, and that is gambling and opium smoking.
Of course, for the nation at large, these two forms would not meet the
demand there is in human nature for some sources of amusement that shall
be harmless. There are troops of children, in this land so prolific in
little ones, who have to be amused with laughter and smiling faces, and
feasts, and outings on the hills, and visits to relatives. There are
equally large numbers of young girls, who must have the monotonous life in
which they are compelled to live in their narrow homes changed from the
unending routine that confronts them almost every day of their lives.
In order to satisfy this demand for recreation, there are certain forms of
amusement that have become popular throughout the country, and which, to a
limited extent, do meet the needs of the case. They may be roughly divided
into two classes.
The first of these is the great festivals, that are religiously observed
by the people of the whole Empire. The most important amongst these is the
New Year's holiday. The feasting and jollity really extend over three
days, though, as is natural, it is the first one that stands out the most
conspicuous of them all.
On this day all business is suspended, and for once during the year China
puts on a Sunday look, for the shops are all closed, with the exception of
those that deal in shoes and stockings, which by a licence that has come
down from the distant past, are permitted to sell their wares, even though
it is a New Year's day.
Every one is dressed in his very best, and the women put on their gayest
and most attractive garments. The children, too, decked out in clothes
that have been carefully folded and put away in boxes for this special
occasion, appear early in the morning, with faces full of joy and eyes
sparkling with delight, ready for all the fun and enjoyment that the day
is going to bring them.
The male members of the household go and pay visits to their friends,
whilst the ladies stay at home and entertain the neighbours or relatives
that may be calling upon them. It seems to be the object of every one to
be as nice and agreeable to each other as they can be. No unlucky words
must be uttered, for they might bring sorrow and disaster during the
coming year, and so one sees everywhere pleasant, smiling faces, whilst
the air resounds with kindly greetings and with wishes for prosperity and
happiness.
Even the very houses put on a festal appearance, and bright red papers on
the lintel silently join with the well-wishers in their loving
congratulations to all and sundry, by themselves offering up a prayer to
Heaven to send down blessings upon the home within.
It is the custom on this festal day of the year to paste bright red papers
on the lintel and on both sideposts of the door, on which have been
inscribed in large Chinese characters a wish for some form of happiness to
be bestowed upon all that live within. "May the five happinesses descend
upon the home." "May Heaven bestow peace and happiness, and may clouds of
trade gather round the business carried on here." "May righteousness have
its fullest accomplishment in this home." "May the days of Shun and the
times of Yau (two ancient rulers of China, when it is believed that the
country attained its greatest prosperity) be the experience of this home."
The above are quotations from some of the thousands of gaudy-looking
strips of paper that deck the houses and give an air of gladness to the
scene. Every house in the town, and even the temples of the gods have some
pasted over the front doors. For three days the feasting and the visiting
and the congratulations go on, and then the people go back to the old
humdrum style of things, and to the steady grind and wear and tear of
life, but in the meanwhile there has been a delightful break in the
eternal monotony that has made things look so grey, and that has put so
many shadows into the everyday working life of this patient people.
Another great festival is one that is held wherever there is a sea or a
river or a stream on which a boat may be floated. This is called the
"Feast of the Dragon Boat," and is held in honour of an ancient statesman
who committed suicide in the river Mi Lo. The story is that one of the
feudal states into which China was then divided, named Tau, was prospering
under the wise guidance of Ku Yuan, who was the Prime Minister of its
Prince. The people were happy, and peace and plenty made the state a good
one to live in. Suddenly, through the machinations of a rival, the ruler
was tempted into evil courses, Ku Yuan was dismissed, and adversity loomed
in the distance for the country.
Unwilling to be a spectator of the sorrows that were coming on the people,
Ku Yuan threw himself into the river and perished. As soon as the news of
his death was known, boats were sent out to search the river for his body,
but days went by, and it was never recovered. So grieved was the nation at
his loss, that it was determined that the anniversary of his death should
be commemorated by boat races, in which the fiction should be kept up that
the boats were not simply racing, but were in search of the long-lost
body. The death happened about B.C. 314, but though ages have elapsed, and
revolution after revolution have torn and convulsed the country to its
very foundations, the custom is as keenly kept to-day as though it had
only just lately been established.
It is, indeed, one of the most popular festivals of the year, and is
looked forward to for weeks before it takes place, and during the three
days on which it is being kept, the whole place is full of excitement. It
has been our good fortune on several occasions to witness the gatherings
of the people who have assembled on a famous estuary to watch the racing
of the boats in their mad search for the body of Ku Yuan.
This happens at the beginning of the Chinese fifth moon, which corresponds
with about the middle of our June. The weather then is hot and the sun is
bright, though rain often falls during some part of the three days, as
though Heaven were weeping for the sad fate of the lost minister.
Nearly every one of the population who can possibly get away from their
duties deserts the town and hastens to the seashore to witness the moving
scene on the water. As it gets towards noon, strings of people may be seen
wending their way in the direction of the harbour. There are young men,
full of life and merriment, and with their black eyes flashing with
excitement, for the dulness of the dingy, evil-smelling town is going to
be forgotten amidst the salt sea breezes that have blown over many a
hundred leagues of ocean.
There are old ladies, with the young girls of their families chattering
and laughing about them, glad to get out of the narrow homes in which they
are usually confined to gaze upon the life of the streets and to look upon
the strange faces of the people that are hurrying on to the great
gathering by the seaside.
Wherever one looks one sees signs that the Dragon Boat Races are the great
thought that is upon every heart. The peddlers are going to have a royal
time of it, and see how, with flushed faces, they are rushing on with
their goods to the hungry crowds on the hills and rising grounds by the
sea shore. Here is a man with two great baskets balanced on a bamboo pole
that rests on his shoulder. They are full of all kinds of cakes, just
fresh from the oven, and some of them that have the appetizing name of
"mouth-melters" seem longing to be bought, so that they may show how crisp
and luscious they are, and how suited for such a holiday as this.
Following hard upon his heels, for the street is too narrow to allow of
two such men walking abreast, comes the "Sweet and Sour" man, with his two
loads heaped up with all kinds of goodies, such as every one likes to
indulge in on a huge picnic such as the town is keeping on this bright,
sunshiny day.
This popular street-dealer in toothsome and, to the younger generation at
least, fascinating luxuries, has prepared himself to meet the large demand
of the crowds, who at a merry time like this will be more reckless of
their cash than they would be on ordinary occasions. He has sugared orange
lobes, and pine apple cut into dainty succulent little mouthfuls. He has
also crab apples from the far North, crushed and flattened, but just as
sweet as sugar can make them. These and other varieties of fruit that
have no English names are pierced with thin slips of bamboo, which the
buyer can hold between two of his fingers and drop each piece into his
mouth without soiling his fingers.
Then for the sours, he has pickled olives, and rich luxurious-looking
arbutus berries, that in the distance look like strawberries, and delicate
little plums, and sliced peaches, and limes with the green of the trees
still upon them. Every one can take his choice, and whether he likes
sweets or sours he can put his hand into his pocket and select the kind
that suits him best.
And now the crowds have gathered by the seaside; and what a scene of
delight and joy it is to the men and women and children, who have been for
weeks "cribbed and cabined and confined" in their homes, in the narrow
streets and alleyways, where the green fields are never seen and where the
sight of the sun is what they see of him as he passes overhead, as he
pours down his fiery scorching rays upon the unsavoury, vile-smelling
streets below!
There is hardly a sombre-looking face amongst them all, for the spirit of
the day is upon every one. They present a most interesting and beautiful
appearance; usually only men are seen in any numbers on the streets, but
to-day women are quite as numerous as the men, and their gay and showy
coloured dresses relieve the sombre blue in which the sterner sex delight
to array themselves.
All at once the hum of voices is hushed and all eyes are turned in the
direction of the sea, for there the Dragon Boats have suddenly made their
appearance, each one madly striving to beat the other as they both race on
towards a junk anchored in the stream, from which flags and many-coloured
streamers float in the breeze, and which has been appointed to be the goal
towards which the boats must race.
[Illustration: A DRAGON BOAT.
_To face p. 129._]
The Dragon Boats are long and narrow, and only just wide enough to
allow two men to sit side by side and use their paddles to propel the
boat. The number that is commonly employed in one of them is sixty, not
including the coxswain, who stands in the stern holding a long oar with
which he steers his way through the crowds of boats that have come with
their passengers to get a good look at the races.
The effect of these sixty men paddling with all their might is very
striking, and puts one in mind of a huge centipede, though the Chinese,
with more imagination and more poetry, have likened it to the fabulous
dragon that plays so large a part in the mythology and superstition of the
nation.
The festivities continue for three days, and the inhabitants of the city
with unabated zeal gather by the seashore to laugh and joke and gossip,
and to look at the blue sky and to see the sea tossing and foaming under
the pressure of South-West Monsoon.
With the conclusion of the sports, the great masses of people that lined
the hills and eminences near the edge of the sea melt away down the narrow
arteries that constitute the principal streets of the town. They slowly
vanish down the winding alleyways that seem to be like runs that lead to
the burrows where the Chinese, as dense as rabbits in their lodges, pass
their lives with little to vary the monotony excepting these joyous
occasions that break in upon the dulness and greyness of their everyday
experience.
Another festival that helps to divert the minds and thoughts of the vast
majority of the people is the "Feast of Tombs." This has its serious side
as well as its pleasant one, and many a heart pours out its sorrows in
tears and heartrending cries over the loved ones that have vanished into
the dark world, whilst others, again, gather round the graves to hold
fellowship, in spirit at least, with those whom they believe are conscious
of their presence, and who can in some way or other affect the fortunes of
the living.
Once a year the whole population turns out to visit the family graves. The
wear and tear of wind and rain during the twelve months have flattened
them down and given them a neglected and disordered look. They need
repairing and returfing, and so with loving hearts the relatives wend
their way amongst the countless tombs that cover the hillside to the ones
that belong to them, and with their hoes they dig about and fix them up to
bear the brunt of storms of rain and fierce typhoons for another year.
Another purpose of this yearly visit to the graves is to secure their
rights to the ones that belong to them. For this purpose each family
scatters paper money over them and bind them down with stones lest the
wind should blow them away. They thus advertise to every one that the
owners are still living and will resent any attempt of others to
appropriate them. China is a country so densely populated that it is
sometimes difficult to find resting-places for the dead. If a grave is
left for a year or two without these symbols of ownership, some poor
family who has not the means to purchase a piece of ground for their dead
will pounce upon it, and use it for themselves. They are pretty safe in
doing this, for if no papers mark the grave at the "Feast of Tombs" it is
almost certain that the old family has died out, and not a single one is
left to care for it at the annual festival.
It is a very pretty and interesting sight to see the hillsides dotted with
the countless figures that are moving about on them, making their
offerings to the spirits, and doing up the graves that have become
dilapidated during the year.
But see, here is a family group that has just arrived, and as they fairly
represent the hundreds that have come on the same errand, a description of
them will give a fairly correct idea of what the "Feast of Tombs" means to
the people throughout the Chinese Empire. It consists of a father and
mother and one sturdy little fellow and a sister somewhat younger than
himself. The father has a hoe over his shoulder, whilst the mother carries
a basket which contains a variety of cakes, and several bundles of white
and yellow paper money. The hoe is at once set to work to repair the
damage that the weather has done to the grave, whilst the children romp
about and gather wild flowers to take with them to their home that lies
hidden in the town that seems to be creeping along the base of the hill on
which they are standing.
It is the old grandfather's grave, and for over three years he has lain on
this quiet hillside, with only the sound of the wild wind blowing across
it and the cry of the hawks as they hover high up in the air looking with
their keen eyes for their prey, to disturb the perpetual stillness that
reigns here the whole year through.
When they have done their work, and the new sods have been beaten well
down on the top and sides of the grave to enable it to stand another
year's wear and tear, the cakes are taken out of the basket, and laid out
in front where the spirit can see them. Then a little bottle with whisky
in it is brought forth, and three diminutive cups holding about a
tablespoonful each are filled with it and placed beside the cakes. Finally
a small piece of boiled pork that has lain snugly at the bottom of the
basket is taken out and laid carefully amongst the other good things.
Everything is ready now for the offering to be presented to the old
grandfather, and the family stand up, and with hands clasped bow before
the grave as though the old gentleman were in the flesh standing in front
of them, and could hear every word that is said to him.
The scene now becomes most realistic and pathetic. The father, with a face
full of intensity and eyes lighted with passion, tells the dead man how
lately troubles have come upon the home, and how trade has been so bad
that it has been a continual struggle to make ends meet. "Things have been
so different," he continues, "since you left us; we have missed your wise
counsels, and when cases of perplexity have arisen we have longed to have
you with us, so that we could go to you and you would tell us what to do.
We now appeal to you to come to our rescue; we are your children, and
unless you use the mysterious power you possess to deliver us, the family
will be dispersed, and then when the 'Feast of Tombs' comes round, there
will be no one to appear before your grave to make the offerings to your
spirit. Come, father, come: see, we your children, with bowed heads and
with hope in our hearts, appeal to you to change the fortunes of our home,
and send prosperity to it."
After the worship has been concluded, the cakes and the pork are laid out
in picnic fashion on the grass and the family gathers around them, and
they laugh and chat, and the youngsters break out into boisterous mirth.
Everything around them conduces to clear away the shadows from their
hearts. The stifling air of the city has vanished, and the smells and the
monotonous surroundings, and here the purest forces of nature combine to
lift their thoughts out of the narrow ruts in which they have been
running.
And is it any marvel that this should happen? The sun shining in an
unclouded sky has filled the wide landscape with his beauty, as though
to-day he would cheer the hearts of the hundreds that dot the mountain
side. The hilltops are ablaze with his glory, and his rays dart across the
sea, and play fairy antics amongst the trees, and flash upon the graves
where countless generations lie buried, as though they would break the
gloom that rests upon them and point to a brighter day when the bands of
death would be for ever unloosed and the dead should rise again.
The birds, too, as if in the luxuriance of their joy sing their songs, fly
from branch to branch and hover about, whilst the kingfishers with their
brilliant plumage skim about in the hollows, where streamlets trickle down
the mountain side.
It is a joyous day indeed, and to the children is as full of happiness as
it can contain. The grasses and the wild flowers, and the wide expanse of
sunshine instead of the narrow court where their home lies, and the
freedom to skip and dance to their very hearts' content fill every moment
with the most supreme delight, the minutes pass only too quickly, and
their only regret is that they cannot live out there for ever.
In the midst of these delights the time seems to fly as though the sun
were racing down the great vault of heaven. Gradually the shadows begin to
lengthen, and to lie deep and thick in the valleys and underneath the
projecting cliffs, whilst the glory that still rests on the summit of the
mountain, and on the solitary peaks, begins to be dimmed with the coming
twilight creeping through it.
The time at last comes when the countless groups scattered so
picturesquely amongst the newly-fashioned graves, where their loved ones
rest, should begin to move homeward. The sun goes down quickly in this
land, and the fast-fading light gives warning that if they would reach the
city before darkness falls upon it, they must not linger too long on this
delightful mountain side.
The little family we have described slowly and unwillingly begin to make
preparations to tear themselves away from the spot where they had spent
such a pleasant day. There is but little preparation indeed needed, for
the basket that had contained the good things is empty. Just one more
scamper by the little ones and one last look at the grave where the old
grandfather lies, who has been feasted with the delicacies that are
believed will satisfy his hunger till the coming round of the next feast,
and then they descend, winding their way amongst the trim-looking mounds
decked with paper money, till they reach the large road that leads to the
town below.
About the same time, the whole face of the hills begin to be alive with
moving groups. The glory has faded from the summits, and now a grey light
with a touch of sadness in it is spreading over the landscape. The golden
ripples on the sea have toned down and have put on the sombre air of
twilight. The birds have all fled, and the great hawks that hovered far up
in the sky have flown away, whilst the flash of the kingfisher has ceased
with the setting of the sun. The holiday is over, but for many a day will
the toilers in the narrow streets, and the women and the children in their
poor untidy homes, have visions of glorious sunlight, and lights and
shadows chasing each other, like school-boys, up and down the hillsides
and right up to their very summits, and the fresh breezes, and the
pleasant picnics beside the graves of the dead.
There are several other festivals, such as the Feast of Lanterns, and the
Seventh Moon Festival, when all over the Empire tables are set with
abundance of food for the spirits of the dead world, who have no living
friends in this. The most expensive plays, too, are performed for the
enjoyment of the hungry, wandering ghosts, who have been let loose by the
prince of that gloomy land for one month to try and get some recreation
and comfort in this upper world.
Whilst the ravenous spirits are supposed to enjoy the food that has been
so abundantly provided for them, and to look with delight upon the actors
that are putting forth their best artistic talent in order to amuse them,
it is the people who provide these entertainments that really enjoy this
month of feasting. The food that has been provided for the troops of
hungry spirits that hover invisibly in the air, is diminished neither in
quality nor in quantity, and a merry time the town has in disposing of the
good things which nominally they have provided for the guests from the
lower regions, but which they have arranged should be eaten by friends and
relatives who have been specially invited beforehand.
It is the same with the theatricals. The highest talent has been engaged,
and the most amusing and comical plays have been selected from the actors'
repertory, but whilst they profess to be moved by a desire to entertain
the ghosts, it is their own amusement and pleasure they are thinking about
all the time. "What would happen," I asked a broad-faced, jolly-looking
Chinaman, "if the spirits were really to come and eat up the numerous
dishes that you have laid out for their special benefit?"
"They would never have a chance of doing so again," he promptly replied,
"for we should take very good care never to make any offerings to them
again in the future."
Whilst the great festivals provide large sources of recreation, there is
one other form of amusement that to the Chinese is most popular and most
fascinating, and that is theatricals. As these are expensive the common
people would never be able to indulge in them were it not the custom to
have them performed in the open air, where everybody that likes may come
and look to their hearts' content, without being asked to contribute
anything toward the expenses.
The birthday of an idol, for example, comes round, and to please it and
its worshippers, a troupe of actors are engaged, the stage is erected in
the large open space in front of the temple, and the performance is held
where the god can keep its eye upon it, and the whole neighbourhood can be
accommodated to witness the play. As the idol's birthday is everywhere
known, there is no need to advertise, and so the people come trooping
from all directions with the certainty of having a most enjoyable time,
and of being made to forget the worries and cares of life in the living
drama that is depicted with such wonderful power by these native actors.
A rich man wishes to celebrate his birthday, and of course to do that he
must have a play. A feast there will be as well, but there would be no
_eclat_ and no jollity and no letting the whole neighbourhood know of the
happy event so well as can be done by having a good rousing performance by
some well-known actors, whose fame has travelled far and near.
A stage is at once erected right in front of the great man's door, and the
beating of a drum and the shrill notes of the fife advertise the
neighbours that the troupe has arrived and is at the point of beginning to
act. The news spreads like wildfire, and by the time the men have fairly
begun, people may be seen streaming in from all directions to witness for
nothing something that is inexpressibly dear to the Chinese heart.
And this is not something that is to last merely for an hour or two.
Chinese plays are not such trivial things that they can be finished off in
so short a time as that. The men begin the production of some popular
comedy at noon. They play on till the evening is drawing near, when there
is an intermission of an hour or so for the actors and the people to cook
their rice. By the time this is finished, night has set in and the work of
the day is over. Great flaring lamps are lighted that defy the wind, the
drums are beaten, the shrill musical instruments fill the air with their
weird sounds, and men and women and children, carrying their own stools
with them, hurry with beaming faces towards what might be figuratively
called the "Palace of Delights," and take up their position in front of
the stage to enjoy the scene that is going to be acted.
[Illustration: ACTORS IN COSTUME.
_To face p. 147._]
The hours pass by and the great lamps flare in the night wind, and the
actors, as they get more and more into the spirit of the comedy they are
performing, become filled with enthusiasm, and with impassioned gestures,
and with the very voices and tones of the characters they are personating,
keep their audience spellbound in their attention.
The hours still move on, but the interest never flags. The rapid strokes
on the drum in some of the exciting scenes, and the shrill falsetto tones
of the actors, and the bursts of laughter as the crowd is convulsed by the
dry humour that runs through the piece, wake the silence of the night, and
people living near by, who could not leave their homes, are startled out
of their first sleep by the unwonted sounds that wake up the echoes of the
night.
Midnight strikes, but there is no sign that the play is near its end, or
that the audience dreams of moving from the uncomfortable seats that each
one has extemporized for himself. The small hours begin to lengthen and it
would seem time for the women at least to be in their homes. The stern and
strict etiquette of the country forbids women to mingle with men, but when
a play is being acted, etiquette is flung to the winds, and the wives and
the young maidens sit on into unseemly hours, forgetful of the nation's
ideals.
The wind becomes chiller and the darkness of the East deeper and denser,
but still the merriment grows more fast and furious, when suddenly, as if
with the wave of an enchanter's wand, a thin streak of light touches the
border of the thick curtain that has fallen on the world, and ere long the
dawn dyes the eastern sky with its colours and night begins to fly before
the coming day.
This is the signal for the play to stop. The actors, weary with their long
night's work, descend quickly from the stage, whilst the audience, with
pale faces and worn looks, hurry away to their homes to cook their rice
and prepare for a long sleep to make up for the loss of it during the
night.
It has been a merry time for them all, and the blue feeling that had been
gathering round their hearts and made them have long faces and caused them
to be unpleasant in their homes, has vanished in the laughter that caused
them almost to split their sides. A celebrated humorist has declared that
if he could have but one laugh a month, the whole character of his life
would be changed. During the pleasant hours in which the actors beguiled
the time, they must have laughed scores of times, and the memory of those
jokes will linger in their brains for many a week to come, and make them
look on their sorry surroundings with a lighter and a more cheerful heart.
I have in the above mentioned the chief source of amusement, but I have by
no means exhausted all that the Chinese have devised wherewith to while
away the hours that would hang heavy on their hands. There are tops and
kites, some of which represent birds fighting in the air, which old men
with hoary heads may now and again be seen flying as well as the younger
generation. There is also the popular game of shuttlecock, played not,
however, with battledores, but with the sides of the soles of the shoes,
and done so expertly that the shuttlecock will be kept flying in the air
for several minutes at a time. There is also Punch and Judy, and puppet
shows that have a fascination about them because of the ingenious and
marvellous way with which the operator causes the figures to imitate the
motions of actual life, simply by a deft movement of the strings attached
to their limbs.
Another and less informal way of getting amusement is in gossip and
chatting with friends and neighbours. There is nothing stiff or formal
about the Chinese. It requires very little introduction to make people
acquainted with each other, and their powers of conversation are so great
that with apparently nothing to say they are able to talk and laugh and
spin yarns that make the time pass both rapidly and pleasantly.
The Chinese are a humorous and jolly race of people and absolutely
misrepresented, excepting in their mere physical appearance, in the
popular pictures that appear of them on the tea-chests and in facetious
literature. If they had not been, they would not have borne the strain of
thousands of years of dulness and poverty and fierce struggles for
existence that have tried to crush all life out of them so well as they
have done. The position that they hold to-day in the Far East is a signal
proof of the vitality and the determined pluck that have carried the
Yellow race through the revolutions[2] that during the past centuries have
rent and shattered the Chinese Empire.