One who has never been in China on New Year's Day cannot understand the
indescribable joy with which the teeming population of this vast Empire
lays aside its never-finished work, and clad in new garments, goes out
to welcome the incoming year. Deprived of the seventh day of rest, with
no holidays, feast days, or fast days, to take them away from the
monotony of toil for a little breathing space, it is not to be wondered
at that, when this festive season comes, and for the first and last time
during the year all shops are closed, all business stopped, the whole
country seems mad with delight. Weeks before the arrival of this great
day the streets are filled with little stands where bright colored
papers, flowers, incense, candles, and all the various articles suitable
to the occasion, are sold. Then, too, this is the time for the universal
washing of persons and things, and although the land is not noted for
cleanliness, during this festival dirt is in disfavor.
At the residence of the Viceroy everything presented a gala appearance.
After cleaning and scrubbing in every available place, the house had
been purified by prayers and ceremonies and incense, and when New Year's
eve came nothing was lacking save the final decorations. Without the
populace thronged the streets, and their loud shouts and beating of
gongs and drums, and the popping of innumerable fire-crackers made a
deafening din. People stood at their gateways busily employed in pasting
strips of red paper entreating the five blessings, or bearing
congratulatory mottoes, upon the lintels of their doors, and from every
conceivable place fluttered narrow papers bearing the word _Fuh_
(happiness).
Tuen was in a state of pleasurable excitement as she ran about the yâmen
giving a touch here and there to the preparations, for on New Year's
night no one could think of sleeping. The shrine of the household gods
had been decorated with great porcelain vases filled with the dainty
blossoms of the narcissus, and enormous red candles, gaily painted,
burned there; in the corridors hung scrolls of silk and satin upon which
were inscribed maxims and propitiatory sentences, and all the various
apartments were garnished with fruits and flowers, while upon the walls
were garlands of _kin hwa_, or golden flowers, made of tinselled brass
and looped with long streamers of red and gold paper.
Tuen had taken a perfumed bath in in which had been steeped the leaves
of the fragrant hoang py, and arrayed herself in her new apparel, the
gift of the Viceroy to all his servants. As she listened to the
never-ending popping of the fire-crackers, and the bursting of the
Roman-candles and sky-rockets, her eyes fairly shone, and her heart
fluttered joyously. Then she remembered the gift she had made for the
Viceroy, and she fell to wondering what he would think of it. Already
she had taken it to his wife to give to him, and she amused herself by
trying to think of the words he would say when first he beheld it. He
was going to the temple early in the morning to worship--that she knew.
Would he wear it there? Would he be pleased? Would he speak to her? Or
would he not appreciate the many weeks she had toiled over it, putting
in the most exquisite touches, and the daintiest stitches, and blending
shade in shade with perfect art, and merely consider it the work of a
slave, who did it because she was ordered? This thought was bitter, for
her work had been sweetened, it is true, by her grateful remembrance of
his kindness to her, but still she had another plan in her active little
brain, and if he did not marvel at the exceeding beauty of the garment,
and speak to her in person of her skilful needle-work, she would never
again have a chance to beg of him this one great favor. And she wanted
it so very much that she could never rest satisfied until she had prayed
him to grant it. She seemed doomed to disappointment, for in the early
dawn of the new-born year the Viceroy, clad in gorgeous costume, and
wearing, it is true, the tunic Tuen had made him, started to the temple,
carrying with him the little Tung-li, whose fifth birthday he this day
celebrated. Tuen heard from Wang that he had gone but he sent her no
message, and hope died in her breast.
"He thought not of the slave girl who wrought it," she murmured sadly
to Wang. "He knew that you gave me the material and told me to make it,
and he don't think anything of it." And that worthy domestic was also
greatly cast down, for she wanted to see Tuen advance in her master's
favor, and had contrived many things for that very end.
Meanwhile the sedan containing the Viceroy was being rapidly borne
through the street, while behind came another chair containing his
little heir. It looked as if the weary, stolid, poorly clad people that
usually thronged the thoroughfare, had in the past night been touched by
the wand of a genius, and lo! what a wonderful transformation there was
this morning. Each one now was clad in new garments, and the faces of
all were wreathed in smiles, and every one was happy. The gate-ways,
covered with red and gold paper, presented a most picturesque
appearance, although alas! upon many was the fatal blue strip, telling
the passers by that within the past year death had invaded that
household. Upon stalls, and baskets, and barrels, and in every nook and
corner prayers to the different gods were pasted; actors and jugglers
entertained those who would stop to look at them, and reaped a plentiful
harvest of coins; the brilliantly costumed crowd moved along in the soft
morning light like the figures in a kaleidoscope, and when friend met
friend what a struggle there was to see who should excel in politeness,
and bow most humbly, while the cordial greeting: "_Kungli! Kungli!_" (I
wish you joy! I wish you joy!) was heard on every side. Reaching the
temple the Viceroy conducted his son within, and behind them came
servants bearing gilt and silver paper, printed prayers, and bowls
containing rice, fruits, meats, vegetables, and libations. The priests,
arrayed in blue and yellow robes, stopped their prostrations when they
saw this distinguished party approaching, and one, who was the leader,
stepped forward, and commenced to chant a prayer consisting of frequent
repetitions, in a high, nasal voice, the attendants joining in the
chorus, and beating with much vehemence upon the drums and gongs. All
now bowed before the great bronze image of the god they worshipped, the
mother god, as she was called, the priests making many genuflections.
Tung-li looked gravely at these elaborate ceremonies, and quite forgot
to say the prayer he had been taught, but perhaps that did not matter.
Then the priests arose to their feet, and, still chanting, one of them
went out at the side door of the temple and returned carrying a live
cock in his hand, while behind him came another priest rolling a small
barrel open at both ends. The voices of the priests who had remained now
rose higher and higher, and amid the clash of gongs and cymbals, the
rolling of drums, and the ringing of bells, the cock was several times
passed through the open barrel. Thus did the priests entreat the gods
that Tung-li might go through life and escape its dangers and trials,
even as the cock had passed through the barrel and received no hurt.
This done, amid the burning of prayers and papers and incense, the
offering of the provisions brought, and the din of musical instruments,
the Viceroy retired from the temple, well satisfied with his morning's
devotions.
Poor Tung-li was so tired that he went fast asleep on the way home, and
never even heard the fire-crackers that were popping all around him, nor
the glad shouts of the boys who played on the streets, and pitied him
because he was rich and must be shut up in a sedan.