A VILLAGE SCHOOL.
I should like to tell you something about the school my father-in-law
kept. It was held in a little dark room at the back of the house, and
there were a dozen or so boys of about six to twelve, who came daily,
as soon as it was light, and studied till dusk. They brought their own
desks and stools, paid for their own ink and pens and books, and gave a
little to the teacher, either in money or farm produce. They were mostly
farmers’ boys, and in the busy season often had to help at home; so their
education proceeded slowly.
Their chief work was to learn by heart long strings of words, of the
meaning of which they knew nothing. They began with the three-character
classic, and went on to the works of Confucius and Mencius. But what they
learnt was of little good; for they repeated the sentences like so many
parrots, and with just as much understanding of the meaning.
Then there was writing—following a copy set by the teacher, with a
brush pen and ink rubbed on a stone slab. That was all. No geography,
or arithmetic, or history; it was dull indeed. Then, too, there was no
discipline to speak of; for the teacher was often under the influence of
opium, so the boys did as they liked.
The biggest boy in the school was called “Seven Pounds,” because he
weighed that when he was born. He was a bad boy and a regular bully,
lording it over the small ones and helping himself to their pens and
paper. No one dared to reprove him, least of all the teacher, for he was
the son of the village pawnbroker, the most wealthy and powerful man in
the neighborhood. Large numbers of Chinese regularly pawn their summer
clothes in the winter, and their winter clothes when the warmer weather
returns; so the pawnbrokers make a good harvest, and are usually very
wealthy and powerful. So, you see, it didn’t pay to quarrel with Seven
Pounds, and he knew this well enough.
Now, although my father-in-law was reckoned a scholar, he was, like all
in the house, very superstitious. In the large room, which was dirty and
dusty in the extreme, the place of honour was given to the God of Riches.
There he sat in fat dignity, presiding over the house, though we never
saw any of his riches. In fact, since the coming of wealthy foreigners
into the country, it is often said that the god has moved to foreign
parts, and is now bestowing his riches on the Western nations. Certainly
I never saw the use of him, for our circumstances got worse and worse.
Then on the outside door we had pasted a pair of door gods. These
pictures represent famous warriors who now are regarded as gods, and they
have to protect the house from calamities. Certainly they are ugly enough
for anything; but I have never known them ward off robbers. But perhaps
it is only the spirits that are afraid of them; men aren’t, I am sure. To
frighten off the spirits we had a looking-glass hung over the front door,
so that when the spirits came round and were about to enter, they should
see their ugly faces and retire in a fright.
The calendar was invariably consulted for lucky days on which to begin
everything; and when there was an eclipse we joined our neighbors with
gongs and drums to prevent the heavenly dog swallowing the sun. Every
spring there were the sacrifices at the ancestral graves, and much cash
paper was burnt lest the spirits of our ancestors should not have enough
to pay current expenses. Sacrifices were offered to them, and it was a
general holiday. Any paper on which there was any writing or printing was
carefully burnt. By this act merit was stored up.
On All Souls’ Day my mother would burn incense and cash paper for the
release of those wandering spirits who had no descendants to do it for
them. Near by was a Buddhist temple, where a few lazy priests idled away
the day in opium-smoking and gambling, bearing out the common saying,
“Nine priests, ten rogues.” My brothers-in-law often went there to try
to find out whether any proposed undertaking was going to turn out
successfully. So by all these things you will see there was plenty of
religion in our house, though but little goodness.
New Year, which is the great Chinese festival, brought only added sorrows
to me; for the time was given up to gambling, and I was busier than
ever attending to the wants of the gamblers, and only received blows
in return. Only at the new year itself was there a little rest from
abuse, for at that time it is unlucky to use bad words. To name the evil
spirits is to cause them to appear. I have heard missionaries say that
they feel free to go where they like then without fear of abuse, for no
one calls them “foreign devil” then, even though they make up for it
later on.