My first impressions of Shanghai are a blur. My husband and I drove
rapidly along the Bund, over Garden Bridge, which might have been any
bridge in America, past the Astor House, which was very like any
American hotel, and then along the Soochow Creek, which could be only in
China.
On North Szechuan Road we stopped at a _li_, or terrace, of newly built
houses in the style called semi-foreign. This _li_, which was in the
International Settlement, was very bright and clean. It opened upon the
main thoroughfare. The heavy walls of bright red brick were interrupted
at intervals by black doors bearing brass plates. At one of these my
husband stopped and touched a very American-looking push-button. A bell
trilled within, and the door was opened by a smiling "boy" in a long
blue cotton gown. We crossed a small courtyard bright with flowers and
vines, and, coming to the main entrance, stepped directly into a large
square room. It was cool, immaculate and restful. The matting-covered
floors, the skilfully arranged tables, chairs and sofa, the straight
hangings of green and white, threaded with gold, were exactly what I
should have wished to choose for myself. I was pleasantly surprised by
the gas chandelier with its shades of green and gold and white. A dark
green gas radiator along one wall suggested that Shanghai was not always
so warm as then. It was a very modest little home, befitting a man with
his own way to make, Chan-King explained, as he led me through the rooms
for a hasty survey. Then Wilfred was surrendered to his _amah_, a
fresh-cheeked young woman in stiffly starched blue "coat," white
trousers and apron, while we made ready for a tiffin engagement with
Chinese friends of Chan-King's.
After a short rickshaw ride--novel and delightful to me--we turned from
the main road into another series of terraces and entered a real Chinese
household. The host and hostess, who had both been in America and spoke
excellent English, were very cordial in their welcome. I felt more at
home than I had believed could be possible. Tiffin was served in the
Chinese fashion, the guests seated at a great round table, with the
dishes of meat, fish and vegetables placed in the centre, so that each
one could help himself as he chose. Individual bowls of rice, small
plates, chopsticks and spoons were at each plate. Set at intervals, were
small, shallow dishes containing soy, mustard or catsup and also
roasted melon-seeds and almonds. When my hostess, who had thoughtfully
rounded out her delicious Chinese menu with bread and butter and velvety
ice-cream, as thoughtfully produced a silver knife and fork for me, my
husband explained that I was rather deft in the use of chopsticks.
Though he had taught me, during the early days of our marriage, to use a
slender ivory pair that he possessed, I was now very nervous, but I felt
obliged to prove his delighted assertion. So my social conformity as a
Chinese wife began there, before a friendly and amused audience, who
assured me that I did very well.
On the way home Chan-King said, "Will this be difficult for you,
Margaret?"
"Chopsticks?" I asked gaily, well enough knowing that he did not mean
chopsticks. "No, I like them!"
"I mean everything," he said very gravely, "China--customs, people,
home-sickness, everything."
"You will see whether you haven't married a true Oriental," I answered
him. "As for home-sickness, why, Chan-King--I am at home."
The most important thing at first, materially speaking, was that
Chan-King must make his own way without help of any sort. And for the
upper class Chinese this is very difficult. He was teaching advanced
English in one of the largest colleges in Shanghai, maintaining a legal
practice and giving lectures on international law. He was glad to be at
home again, filled with enthusiasm for his work, hopeful as the young
returned students always are at first, and, through sheer inability to
limit his endeavours, working beyond his strength.
Our happiness at being together again made all things seem possible.
From its fragmentary beginnings in America, we gathered again into our
hands the life we expected to make so full and rich. My part, I
recognized, was to be a genuinely old-fashioned wife--the rôle I was
best fitted for, and the one most helpful to Chan-King. And I began by
running my Chinese household with minute attention to providing for his
comfort in small ways that he liked and never failed to appreciate.
Our two-story house consisted of two big rooms downstairs and sleeping
apartments and a tiny roof-garden upstairs. In this roof-garden I spent
most of my time, and there Wilfred and his _amah_ passed many
afternoons. It was a pleasant, sunny place, furnished with painted
steamer chairs, rugs and blooming plants in pottery jars. At the back,
rather removed from the main part of the house, were the kitchen,
servants' quarters and an open-air laundry. We were really very
practical and modern and comfortable. Our kitchen provided for an
admirable compromise between old and new methods. It had an English
gas-range and a Chinese one. But the proper Chinese atmosphere was
preserved by three well-trained servants who called themselves Ah Ching,
Ah Ling and Ah Poh. Most Shanghai servants are called simply "Boy" or
"Amah" or "Coolie," but ours chose those names, as distinctive for
servants there as "James" and "Bridget" are with us. Ah Ching did most
of the house-work and the running of errands; Ah Ling did the marketing
and cooking, giving us a pleasantly varied succession of Chinese and
foreign dishes; Ah Poh, the _amah_, looked after Wilfred and attended to
my personal wants.
From the first I was fond of Ah Poh, with her finely formed, intelligent
features, her soft voice and gentle, unhurried manner. She had served an
American mistress before coming to me, but showed a surprising
willingness to adopt my particular way of doing things, whether in
making beds, in keeping my clothes in order or in entertaining Wilfred.
On the other hand, Ah Ching, elderly, grave and full of responsibility,
was very partial to his accustomed way of arranging furniture and of
washing windows and floors. If left to himself, he would dust odd nooks
and corners faithfully, but if I made any formal inspection of his
labours he would invariably slight them, to intimate that I should not
be suspicious, as a friend explained--a form of logic that I found
highly amusing. Ah Ling, aside from his culinary ability, was chiefly
interesting because his eyes were really oblique--as Chinese eyes are
supposed to be, and usually are not, and because his hair really
curled--as Chinese hair is supposed never to do, and does occasionally.
For a young pair bent on thrift, we may have seemed very extravagant
indeed. In similar circumstances in America, I should probably have
thought it extravagant to have even one servant. But this household was
a very small one for China and, on our modest income, we maintained it
with a satisfactory margin.
Chan-King was helpful and showed great tact and understanding in getting
our establishment under way. I would not confess to my utter
bewilderment in trying to manage servants who did not understand half of
what I said to them. I think he became aware that I was holding on
rather hard at times during those first months, and he never failed me.
In turn, I helped him revise his papers in the evenings and assisted him
with his letters, and he used to call me his secretary. We discovered
during that first year in China that we had formed a true partnership.
Our social life was very pleasant. We entertained a great deal, in a
simple way. We belonged to a club or two and kept in close touch with
the work of the returned students, who have become an important factor
in the national life. Though wishing to conserve what is best in the
civilization of China, they are bringing Western ideas to bear upon the
solution of political, sociological and economic problems. Many of these
students, as well as other interesting people, both Chinese and foreign,
gathered at our house for dinners and teas.
There was a veteran of the customs service, a portly gentleman with
bristling white moustache, who had been one of the first group of
Government students sent to America fifty years before. He told
interesting stories of the trials and joys of those early days and
humorously lamented the fact that real apple-pie was not to be obtained
in China. There was a distinguished editor of English publications, a
tall, spare figure, whose very quietness suggested reserves of mental
power. With him often was a short, energetic man in early maturity--a
far-sighted educator and convincing orator. I remember a lively
discussion opened up by these two concerning the need for a Chinese
magazine devoted to the interests of the modern woman of China--an early
dream, which is now being fulfilled. There was a retired member of
Parliament with an unfailing zeal for political discussion, who has
since returned to the service of his Government. Also a smiling young
man, who went about persuading Old China of her need for progress, but
who could on occasion put aside his dignity to indulge a talent for
diverting bits of comedy. There was the Chinese-American son of a former
diplomat, who--born in America and coming to China as a grown
man--seemed definitely to recognize his kinship with the land of his
fathers, a fact that Chan-King and I found interesting for its possible
bearing on the future of our own sons. Naturally, most of our friends
were the younger modern folk, who were loosening the ancient bonds of
formality in their daily lives. But many of the older and more
conservative people also used to come to our evening gatherings, where
my husband and I received side by side.
As I came to know the Chinese, I was delighted with their social
deftness. They look upon grace of manner and courtesy as the foundations
of all social life. I was pleasantly impressed by the measure of
deference that they showed to wives, daughters, sisters and friends--so
different from the contempt that Western imagination supposes to be
their invariable share. Occasionally I noticed a husband carefully
translating that his wife might fully enjoy the conversation. Many of
the women, however, spoke English excellently. All our receptions and
dinners were delightfully free and full of good talk. The Chinese have
so beautifully the gift of saying profound things lightly; they can
think deeply without being heavy and pedantic.
I remember the first dinner-party I attended in Shanghai. It was rather
a grand affair, with many guests, all Chinese save me--"And I'm almost
Chinese," I said to my husband. The men and women all sat together
around one great table, in excellent humour with each other, and the
talk was very gay.
A little Chinese woman whom I knew rather well said to me later, "And
think of it--only last year in this house we should have been at
separate tables!" When I asked her to explain, she said that once men
did not bring their guests to their homes at all. Then they brought
them, but entertained them in the men's side of the house. Later they
admitted women to dine in the same room, but at separate tables, and
now, here we are, chatting and dining together quite in Western fashion.
"I like this much better," the little lady decided.
I was glad to see that all of them wore Chinese dress, for it is most
impressively beautiful. I wore my first jacket and plaited skirt that
night, a combination of pale green and black satin, and now and then I
would see Chan-King's eyes turned upon me with the look I best loved to
see there--a clear, warm affection shining in them, a certain steady
glow of expression that had love and friendship and understanding in it.
I think the sight of me in the dress of his country confirmed in his
mind my declaration that I loved China--that I wanted to be a real
Chinese wife.
After this, though for certain occasions the American fashion seemed
more appropriate, I wore Chinese dress a great deal. I remember a day
when Dr. Wu Ting-fang came to dinner, and, as he bowed to me, obviously
took note of my garb.
He looked at me very keenly for a moment, as if he meant to ask a
serious question. Then he said, in his abrupt manner, "You are happy in
that dress?"
"Indeed I am," I answered.
"You like it better than you like American clothes?" he persisted.