CHANGED CONDITIONS
WHEREIN SOME, THOUGH FOLLOWING A PATH OF ACTION, FAILED TO UNDERSTAND IT
THE very week that the British Minister issued passports for women to
re-enter Shansi saw us in Tientsin on our way inland. Those precious
documents which enabled us to return to our work were eagerly received,
and we lost no time travelling over the familiar ground. How easily and
smoothly we now sped over the iron rails as compared with our former
journey; we need now take no interest in gradients, nor fear that the
train would not start at the appointed hour, nor convey us to our
destination.
We found ourselves in a strange country. In place of the dragon, the
five-colour Republican flag was everywhere in evidence, which by the
Chinese is thus explained: China's eighteen provinces are represented by
the red line, Manchuria by the yellow, Mongolia by the blue, Ili,
Chinghai, and Sinkiang by the white, and Thibet by the black; the ideal
of the Chinese republic, a united territory, being indicated.
Soldiers in semi-foreign uniform lined up on each station platform to
salute the train, remaining at their posts until the puffing monster
was out of sight. At Taiyueanfu were further surprises. No man wearing a
queue could enter the city. Should he make an effort to do so, the
soldiers guarding the gates speedily removed the appendage with a pair
of large scissors.
The shops vied with one another in having the very latest "Republican"
goods; the buttons one bought were "Republican"; all school-books were
changed to the latest "Republican" editions; the cloth trade mark was
"Patriotic." Everything was Republican, and we began to realise that
China, far from being the conservative country we had thought, was one
of the most progressive.
As we came to districts where the regulations had been less severely
enforced, we found the queue replaced by the most extraordinary
head-dress; the hair, varying in length, was sometimes braided and
sometimes held in place by a strip cut from a petroleum tin, and bent to
a semi-circle. The more wealthy members of society affected a style
similar to that of an English schoolgirl, the flowing locks reaching to
the shoulders and held from the face by a circular comb. Others allowed
the tresses to fall as nature dictated, keeping them of such a length
that with very little trouble the plait might again appear, for as some
remarked: "Who knows, maybe we lose tails to-day, and heads to-morrow!"
The hats were even more wonderful. In place of the neat, circular cap,
every shape and size was to be seen. Round hats like a pudding-bowl,
straw hats, hard oblong hats, soft hats, home-made hats, erections of
cardboard, giving proof that some devoted wife or mother had done her
best to copy with the means available, probably only cardboard and
paste, a tall hat, which her lord described as having seen on some
journey towards Western communities. Women's dress was likewise being
revolutionised, and skirts were extraordinary. One young lady whom I
met, desiring to be more up-to-date than the rest, wore the so-called
foreign dress back to front, and was far more satisfied with her
appearance than the charming little lady who accompanied her, dressed in
the dignified, elegant attire of her own people.
Not only had the style changed, but travelling south we missed the
bright-coloured clothes which had always added a touch of beauty to the
landscape. We discovered that with the introduction of the Republic,
sumptuary laws were being enforced which commanded the exclusive use of
earth-coloured garments for the men, and forbade the wearing of silver
ornaments to women. Proclamations followed one another in rapid
succession, several of which were framed with a view to altering the
standing of the army. From ancient days China has regarded the soldier
as belonging to the lowest grade of society; the highest place is given
to the scholar, and next to him the farmer, who on account of his labour
for mankind ranks high. The artisan is placed third, but the trader,
seeing that he only distributes and does not produce, comes just before
the soldier, who neither producing nor distributing, but only
destroying, ranks lowest in the social scale. One proclamation stated
that no one was to say that it was _infra dig._ to enter the military
profession. It certainly needed some such move on the part of the
authorities to add to the prestige of the army. A few days before the
recruiting agents had been through the district. "Only those wearing the
queue will be enlisted" was the, to us, amazing dictum. Upon inquiry we
found that former aspirants had given considerable trouble by running
home when the labour became too arduous. As the donning of military
uniform necessitated the removal of long hair, it was obvious that the
new brigade would be freshers, and, as our informant said: "Never having
left home before they will not know the way back!"
The next order forbade us to speak of any day as "unlucky." Now from
time immemorial, some days have been regarded as good and others as bad
for such important events as weddings and funerals; in fact, almost
every day of the year is controlled by some fortunate or untoward
influence, governed by the conjunction of the "Celestial Branches" and
"Earthly Stems," complicated with innumerable elemental antipathies and
affinities.
As an example may be mentioned _wood_, which is antagonistic to _metal_,
but has an affinity for _fluid_ from which it draws its sustenance,
whereas the metal forged into an axe serves for its destruction.
The "Earthly Stems" are represented by symbolic animals, and have
zodiacal signs and control of certain hours. Of the twenty-eight
zodiacal constellations, seven are infelicitous and no one will risk
entering upon a new venture on these days. To repair the kitchen stove
on a day when fire was in the ascendancy might cause a conflagration,
and to go to law on the day when water is the controlling element is
equally foolish, for the tendency of water is to fall, and this may be
the fate of the overdaring litigant. On a day controlled by the snake it
would obviously be foolhardy to start on a journey, for with such a slow
traveller as your controlling genius the journey might be impeded.
The calculations necessary for the correct adjustment of these various
influences provide a livelihood for astrologers and fortune-tellers, but
this proclamation, at one fell swoop, attempted to abolish their
profession. The order was issued, and I suppose in time the yellow paper
faded in the sun; some read it, many talked of it, but they still chose
the day which according to their calendar was the auspicious one, and no
man hindered them.
Other proclamations followed in due order: there was to be no music at
weddings or funerals, only good cash was to be used, women were to
unbind their feet, and brides were not to wear embroidered gowns. We
listened respectfully, as in duty bound, and waited for the pendulum to
swing.
Upon one point, however, the powers were insistent. The Western calendar
must take the place of the lunar. The actual change of date was a small
matter, but this alteration upset the whole organisation of Chinese
life. The New Year season is one which ensures to the Chinese family its
annual gathering, and all the subsequent festivals date from that, the
greatest. The orders were too insistent to be trifled with, and we, in
common with all the government schools, closed to enable our pupils to
be at home for the 1st of January. New Year scrolls were exhibited
outside every front door, but apart from this, the day passed unnoticed.
Instead of paying and receiving calls, inviting guests and enjoying the
family gathering, business was carried on as usual. The first day of the
first moon, however, found the populace given up to revelry, shops were
closed, it was impossible to buy food, and the children in school
rebelled at the decree which separated them from their parents at such a
time, and longed for the golden days of the past. Before another New
Year it was quite evident that proclamations were useless, and we
joyfully returned to the old order, and now all keep the first day of
the first moon as our festival.
Compulsory education was talked of, even conscription was whispered, and
yet we had no criminal code, and no one could touch a neighbour of ours
who, angry that her daughter-in-law presented her with a girl instead of
the longed-for boy, took the child and dashed out its brains. The child
is her property, and she has power of life and death in her hand.
The new Mandarin was a native of Shansi, the old rule that a man might
not act as magistrate in his own province having been repealed. He was
not as his predecessor, carried in a sedan chair, but walked, or rode in
a cart as a commoner. He wore cotton clothes in place of the gorgeous
silk and satin embroidered gowns, and when he sent to invite us to dine
with his wives, his card was foreign except for the characters written
upon it.
Our first visit to the _Yamen_ under the new regime revealed some of the
many changes which had taken place during the last year. No longer were
we escorted by outriders, but hired for ourselves one of the few carts
that Hwochow boasts. The _Tai-tais_ were dressed in black, relieved by
fancy crochet work shoulder capes, of varied hues. The teacups were of
white china, decorated with a bunch of forget-me-nots, and the
well-known words: "A present for a good boy." The feast menu was as
before, but instead of the beautiful china and Eastern decorations, we
sat round a glass petroleum lamp and ate delicacies worthy of a better
setting from plates of that familiar pattern, white with a border of
blue. The exquisitely polished table was covered with a piece of white
calico, a knife and fork lay beside the chop-sticks, and last but not
least, the Mandarin, to add to our pleasure, ordered his servants to
bring out the gramophone, which during dinner poured forth a selection
of London street songs and Chinese theatrical music. Conversation was
drowned, and we were able the more to observe. In place of
scroll-decorated walls, brilliant paper met our gaze at every turn,
white enamel basins and bowls replaced all the flowered china on which
we had lavished so much admiration. After dinner we were not offered the
water pipe, but cigarettes, all expressing surprise that we could refuse
so foreign an indulgence. The Chinese proverb to the effect that "A
wayfarer does not repair the inn nor the Mandarin his official
residence," was for once in fault--the workmen had been busy! We spent
a very pleasant hour with the family after dinner, receiving as on
former occasions the utmost kindness and courtesy.
The classical writings of Mencius were for a time excluded from the
schools as teaching reverence for kings and rulers, a doctrine not to be
tolerated in the most republican of republics.
The friendly attitude of some of the leaders of the revolutionary
movement towards Christianity lent colour to a widely spread impression
that republican government necessitated a change of religion. Some
favoured the Protestant, some the Roman Catholic Church, others
preferred the "No-god society," which gained many adherents as being
more modern.
Even the Church was affected by the prevailing craze, and the wearing of
the queue and non-observance of innovations was regarded as sin by the
ignorant and superstitious. I heard a new convert warned by a Church
member that sickness in his home might well be due to his rooted
objection to calendar changes.
This attitude of mind, happily for us, lasted only a few months, but it
was followed by another serious danger when the question of introducing
the Confucian Ethical Code as a state religion was brought forward. This
would have imposed limitations on Christians, Mohammedans, and others,
the alternative suggestion being that Christianity should be given this
status, in which some saw far greater perils. Meetings of the Chinese
Protestant Church forwarded petitions to the Central Government,
protesting against both proposals and craving only religious liberty,
and the danger was averted.
The habit of revolution is a pernicious disease of the human mind, and
once acquired hard to throw off. Our political horizon has been draped
in storm-clouds ever since 1911, and our local social plans liable to
disintegration on account of rumours calculated to disturb the mind of
the people. White Wolf, Wolf King, and other robber chiefs have
announced their intention of visiting us. Our walls have been inscribed
with the terrifying announcement that "White Wolf is a devourer of
sheep," which in Chinese, by a play on the last word, can be understood
to mean: "White Wolf is a devourer of foreigners." A bold sketch of a
drawn sword was added that no doubt might be in our minds as to the
bloodthirsty intention of the threat! Mohammedan rebellions to the west,
Mongolian raids to the north, have alternated with the political
difficulties brought about by international negotiations, to add to the
sense of insecurity inevitably resulting from the removal of the very
central foundation of governmental stability--the "Son of Heaven"--to
whom four hundred million subjects bowed in reverential obedience.
Transition periods are difficult, and China has been troubled by those
who in their enthusiasm for change have lost the sense of proportion,
and sought to revolutionise much that is dearer than life itself to many
of their countrymen; nevertheless, this great nation, permeated with
ideals so free from sordidity, will surely carve for herself a future
worthy of her past.
ANOTHER PORTRAIT GALLERY
"In tragic life, God wot,
No villain need be! Passions spin the plot:
We are betrayed by what is false within."
GEORGE MEREDITH.
"Oh Christians, at your Cross of Hope a hopeless hand was clinging."
E. B. BROWNING.
"After all what would he have had to sacrifice had
he followed Jesus? He would have had to give up
his house in Jerusalem. He would have had to
renounce society; but society would soon have
forgotten him, for society has a short memory for
people who for any reason have fallen out of it.
That is what he would have lost, and what would he
have gained? He would have had those walks with
Jesus across the fields, and he would have heard
Him say: 'Consider the lilies.'"--MARK RUTHERFORD.