they will bring to light the seven deadly sins of Chinese social
financiering.

1. _Everybody always needs to borrow._ That the business of the world even
in Western lands depends upon the borrowing of money, and that credit is
the largest factor in trade, are positions which we do not for a moment
forget. But Chinese borrowing is of a different type from that with which
the great expansion of modern commerce has made us familiar. We do not
affirm that there are not Chinese who do not need the money of other
people for the conduct of their affairs, but only that these people are so
rare that they may as well be disregarded. The whole scale of Chinese
living and the whole system of economics are of such a sort, that as a
rule there is but a narrow margin of financial reserve. With all their
practicality and skill in affairs, it is a constant source of wonder that
so few Chinese ever have anything to fall back upon. One reason for this
is the fact that it is very difficult for them to accumulate a reserve,
and another equally potent is the fact that there is nothing which can be
safely done with it pending its use. There are no savings-banks, and there
are no investments which are safe. The only thing which can be done with
ready money, is to lend it to those who need it, which is generally done
with some reluctance, as the lender justly fears lest he should never
again see either interest or principal. Whoever has a wedding in his
family, is liable to have to borrow money to carry it through, and if it
be a funeral the necessity will be still more urgent. He needs money to
start in business, and he needs more to settle up at the end of the year,
when, if their own accounts are to be trusted, nine Chinese out of ten who
engage in business in a small way, find that they have "lost money";
though this often signifies that they have not realized so much as they
had hoped. In short it is hard to find a Chinese to whom the loan of a sum
of money at any time, would not be as welcome as "water to a fish in a dry
rut." It is this all-prevailing need which smoothes the surface of the
spot where the pit is to be dug.

2. _Everybody is obliged to lend money._ We have just remarked that the
man who happens to have a little surplus cash does not like to lend it,
lest he should never see it again. But there are various kinds and degrees
of pressure which can be brought to bear upon the capitalist. One of these
is connected with the solidarity of the Chinese family, or clan. If one of
the members has money which he might lend and another is desperately in
need of it, the latter will get a member of the generation higher than
that to which the capitalist belongs, to intercede for him. This may be
done unwillingly, but it will probably be done. To a sufficient amount of
pressure of this ancestral description, the capitalist will find it best
to yield, though not improbably against his financial judgment. But every
Chinese is from infancy accustomed to the idea that it is seldom easy to
have one's own way in all things, and that when one cannot do as he would,
he must do as he must. If the borrower does not belong to the same family
or clan as the lender, the difficulty will be greater, but it may perhaps
be overcome by the same description of pressure, by means of friends. A
would-be borrower is often obliged to make a great many kotows before he
can secure the favour of a loan (at an extortionately high rate of
interest), but he is much aided in his efforts by the Chinese notion that
when a certain amount of pressure has been brought to bear, a request
_must_ be granted, just as one of a pair of scales must go down if you put
on enough weights. Thus it comes about that in all ranks of Chinese, the
man who has, is the man who must be content to allow to share in his
wealth (for a handsome remuneration).

3. From the foregoing propositions, it follows with inevitable certainty,
that _almost everybody owes some one else_. There is never any occasion to
ask a Chinese whether he owes money. The proper formula is, How much do
you owe, and to whom, and what is the rate of interest?

4. _No Chinese ever pays cash down, unless he is obliged to do so._ To us
this may appear a most eccentric habit, but it seems to be almost a law.
The Chinese has learned by ages of experience, that he no sooner pays away
money to satisfy one debt, than he needs that same money to liquidate
other debts. In their own figuratively expressive phrase, a single cup of
water is wanted in three or four places at once, and the supply is always
as inadequate, as the classical "cup of water to put out the fire in a
cart-load of fuel." Knowing this with a keenness of apprehension which it
is difficult for us to appreciate, the Chinese holds on fast to his cash
till it is wrung from him by a force which overcomes his own tenacity of
grip.

5. _No Chinese ever pays a debt till he is dunned._ To us this also seems
a strange practice. Most of us have grown up with a fixed idea that as a
debt must be paid, "if it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it
were done quickly." The mind of a Chinese operates in quite a different
way. His view is, "If it must be done, it were best done when it is done
as deliberately as the case admits."

6. It seems also to be the rule, that _no Chinese will pay his debts till
he has been dunned a great number of times_. Here again he is at the
opposite pole from that which we occupy. We do not like to be dunned, and
would rather make considerable sacrifices than to have needy persons
dogging us for the collection of debts which we honestly owe, which we
must ultimately pay, and not to arrange for the payment of which at once
is more or less of a disgrace. By "we" we mean of course the average
foreigner, for it is not to be denied that Western lands have their full
proportion of impecunious and shameless rascals who "live off the interest
of their debts," and who swindle all those whom they can. But the Chinese
of whom we are speaking do not belong to this class. The mass of the
Chinese people we believe to be honest, and they fully intend to pay all
that they owe, but they do not intend to pay until they are ready to do
so, and neither gods nor men can tell when that will be. It is a current
saying that when a person has many debts he is no longer concerned about
them, just as when one has many parasites he ceases to scratch!

7. In a large proportion of cases, _the Chinese who pays a debt, pays but
a part of it at a time_. The rest he will try to get together in the
"third month," "the ninth month," or at the "end of the next year." The
practical outcome of these last three peculiarities is, that the twelfth
moon of every Chinese year is a time of maximum activity all over the
empire. One would suppose that a vast amount of work was being
accomplished, but the facts are otherwise. One is reminded of the Witch in
"Alice Behind the Looking-Glass," where the child was hurried along on a
broomstick at such a rate as to take her breath away. She thought she must
be traversing illimitable space, but when this idea was communicated to
the Witch, the latter only laughed, and replied that this was nothing at
all, for they had to go like that to "keep up with things" and if they
were really to get ahead to any extent, the rate of travel must be
enormously faster than that! The racing around of the Chinese in their
final moon, is just "to keep up with things." Every shop, no matter how
trifling the sum total of its business, has its army of runners out, each
"demanding debts," or rather endeavouring to do so; for to achieve it is
no such easy matter. The debtor is himself a creditor, and he also will be
occupied in the effort to call in the sums which are owing to him. Each
separate individual is engaged in the task of trying to chase down the men
who owe money to him, and compel them to pay up, and at the same time in
trying to avoid the persons who are struggling to track _him_ down and
corkscrew from him the amount of his indebtedness to them? The dodges and
subterfuges to which each is obliged to resort, increase in complexity and
number with the advance of the season, until at the close of the month,
the national activity is at fever heat. For if a debt is not secured then,
it will go over till a new year, and no one knows what will be the status
of a claim which has actually contrived to cheat the annual Day of
Judgment. In spite of the excellent Chinese habit of making the close of a
year a grand clearing-house for all debts, Chinese human nature is too
much for Chinese custom, and there are many of these postponed debts which
are a grief of mind to many a Chinese creditor.

The Chinese are at once the most practical and the most sentimental of the
human race. New Year _must not_ be violated by duns for debts, but the
debt _must_ be collected New Year though it be. For this reason one
sometimes sees an urgent creditor going about early on the first day of
the year carrying a lantern looking for his creditor. His artificial light
shows that by a social fiction the sun has not yet risen, it is still
yesterday and the debt can still be claimed!

We have but to imagine the application of the principles which we have
named, to the whole Chinese empire, and we get new light upon the nature
of the Chinese New Year festivities. They are a time of rejoicing, but
there is no rejoicing so keen as that of a ruined debtor, who has
succeeded by shrewd devices in avoiding the most relentless of his
creditors and has thus postponed his ruin for at least another twelve
months. For, once past the narrow strait at the end of the year, the
debtor finds himself again in broad and peaceful waters, where he cannot
be molested. Even should his creditors meet him on New Year's day, there
could be no possibility of mentioning the fact of the previous day's
disgraceful flight and concealment, or indeed of alluding to business at
all, for this would not be "good form," and to the Chinese "Good Form"
(otherwise known as Custom), is the chief national divinity.

An ingenious device by which to secure the desirable result that a family
shall be sure to have a supply of the food most indispensable for a proper
treatment of guests at the festive New Year season, is found in what are
called New Year Societies. Each member of the society contributes a few
hundred or perhaps a thousand cash a month for the first five months of
the year, until the wheat harvest in June when wheat is at its lowest
price, for example 1,200 cash for 100 catties or picul. During the five
months which have elapsed, the money thus assessed upon the members has
been put at interest, and has already accumulated a handsome income. As
soon as the new wheat is in the market, the loans are all called in, and
the treasurer takes the whole of the sum belonging to the association and
invests it in wheat. This he keeps until the close of the year, by which
time it is not at all unlikely that the price of the grain has doubled. He
then exchanges the wheat, at the current rate, with some maker of
bread-cakes (_man-t'ou_), and these are divided among the stockholders. In
this way, each one gets not only the benefit of the interest on loans for
five months, but also nearly or quite double the value of the wheat bought
just after harvest. Sometimes the monthly payments are continued
throughout the year, and the sum is then expended in a lump for
bread-cakes, wheat, cotton, or whatever each family most needs for the New
Year season. In societies of this kind, the rate of interest is sure to be
at least three per cent. per month, and perhaps four per cent. The amounts
borrowed are usually small, and each borrower must have a security from
among the contributors to the fund. In case payment is not forthcoming at
the due date, the next step is to raise an uproar, and if possible to
collect the debt by force. The inevitable and universal uncertainty and
difficulty attending the collection of any money on loan, give emphasis to
the adage that "where the profit is large, the risk is correspondingly
great."

Extortionate as are the ordinary rates of Chinese interest, ranging from
twenty-four to forty eight or more per cent. per annum, there are other
ways than direct loans, by which even greater profits may be gathered. The
passion for gambling seems to be all-pervasive among the Chinese, and it
is perhaps a greater bar to the prosperity of the common people than any
other habit of their lives. Many of the phenomena of Chinese coöperation
are associated with gambling practices, from which the profit to those who
manage the finances is very great. In all cases where there is money to
loan, it is possible to employ it for gaming, under the direction of the
managers, or trustees. Those who are in the habit of gambling do not stop
when their supply of money fails, but draw upon the bank of the loan
association at terms which are agreed upon, but which differ according to
circumstances. In an emergency, it might happen that a person whose
fortune had failed him, would be obliged to borrow of the bank, say 800
cash, which in a short time he must replace with 1,000. At the end of the
year when the accounts are made up and the money paid in, it is equally
divided among the contributors of the society, whether they may have used
the capital for gambling or not. In case they have borrowed a part of the
capital and are not able to repay it, their debt is set against their
contribution, and they lose their investment.

XX

THE VILLAGE BULLY

No adequate understanding of the life of the Chinese is possible without
some comprehension of the place therein of the bully, and conversely it
might almost be said that a just apprehension of the character and
functions of the Chinese bully is equivalent to a comprehension of Chinese
society.

So far as we know, the Chinese bully is a character peculiar to China. By
this it is not of course meant that other lands do not have and have not
always had their bullies, but that the mode in which Chinese bullies exert
their power is unique. It depends largely upon the peculiar
characteristics of the Chinese race, prominent among which is the desire
for peace, and a reluctance to engage in a quarrel. The traits of a bully
among a savage and warlike people such as our ancestors once were, and of
a bully among such a quiet folk as the Chinese, are inherently different.

The Chinese have many terms to designate the individual whom we have
termed a bully, among which one of the most common is that which means
literally "bare-stick" (_kuang-kun_), in allusion to the fact that those
who are most frequently bullies are generally those who have no property
to lose. But the general term is applicable to any one who plays the part,
whatever his social condition may be, and it is in this sense that we
shall employ it.

In considering the social functions of the bully, it is necessary to
distinguish him from several classes of persons, to any one of which he
may belong, but from each one of which he may be different. These four
classes are,--first, headmen of the village (called also, as we have
already remarked, by many other names); second, intermediaries (not
"middlemen" in the technical sense, but those who as peace-talkers,
intervene in the affairs of others) etc.; third, beggars; and lastly
thieves.

In China next in importance after the division of human beings into two
sexes, is another classification which every Chinese instinctively adopts.
According to this arrangement, all members of society are rated according
to their probable behaviour under bad treatment, just as the chemist
considers all substances in the light of their capacity for combination
with other elements.

In the popular speech of the people, every Chinese villager is said to be
either "_lao-shih_" or not "_lao-shih_." The words "_lao-shih_" mean
literally "old and solid," or in a derived sense gentle, tractable, from
which again arises a third signification of stupid, and gullible. The
highest degree of this latter quality is expressed in the phrase
"_ssü-lao-shih_," which literally denotes one who is "dead-stupid"; that
is, one who can be imposed upon to any extent. Such a one, in a common
adage, is compared to the toes on an old woman's feet, which have been
suppressed all their life, without any power of asserting themselves.

The village bully is, (as we used to be taught of vulgar fractions) of
three kinds, simple, compound, and complex. The simple bully is a unit by
himself, managing his own affairs with his own resources. The compound
bully calls to his aid the power of numbers, and the mysterious and almost
irresistible talent for combination inherent in the Chinese. The complex
bully is not a bully merely, but has some business or profession, in the
management of which he is materially aided by the fact that he is a man to
be feared.

In his simplest form, a Chinese bully is a man of a more or less violent
temper and strong passions, who is resolved never to "eat loss," and under
all circumstances to give as good (or as bad) as he gets. Fortunately for
the peace of society, the overwhelming majority of the Chinese belong to
the "_lao-shih_" variety. In order to secure the reputation of being _not
"lao-shih,"_ a shrewd villager will sometimes adopt the expedient, not
unknown to other lands, of wearing his clothes in a loose and rowdy-like
fashion, talking in a boisterous tone, and resenting contradiction or any
overt lack of compliance with his opinions.

His cap is worn studiedly awry; his outer garment instead of being
decorously fastened, is left purposely unlooped; his abundant hair is
braided into a loose cue apparently as thick as his arm, the plaiting
beginning several inches away from the head: the end of the cue is
generally coiled about his neck or over his head (a gross breach of
Chinese etiquette), as if to show that he thirsts for a fight. His outer
leggings are not improbably so tied as to display a lining which is more
expensive than the outside; and his shoes are invariably worn down at the
heel, perhaps to make an ostentatious display of a silk embroidered _heel_
to the cotton stocking--a touch of splendour adapted to strike awe into
the rustic beholder. In a time of intense excitement over alleged
kidnapping of children, we have known a man to be apprehended in open
court and examined as a bad character, because the colour of his clothes
was unusual.

By persistently following out his peculiar lines of action, he will not
unlikely succeed in diffusing the impression that he is a dangerous man to
interfere with, and will in consequence be let severely alone. A cat of
even a small experience will not improbably manifest considerable
hesitation before attempting to swallow a lizard. It is evident,
therefore, that if any small reptile is obliged to associate with cats,
the art of simulating a lizard is a valuable one. The grade of bully of
which we are now speaking is in all Chinese society too common to attract
much notice, and he can be avoided by letting him alone. His weapons, like
the walls of Chinese cities, are defensive only.

Much more to be dreaded is the bully who will not let others alone, but
who is always inserting himself into their affairs with a view to
extracting some benefit for himself. The most dangerous type of these men
is the one who makes very little ado, but whose acts are ruinous to those
whom he wishes to injure. Such a one is aptly likened to a dog which bites
without showing his teeth.

The tactics which such a man adopts to establish his claim to the rank of
"village king," are the same with which we are only too familiar in other
lands, and which an advancing civilization has not yet succeeded in
rendering wholly obsolete. If there is no overt act which he sees his way
to commit, he can always pick a quarrel by reviling, which is regarded as
throwing down a glove of defiance. Not to notice such a challenge is from
a Chinese standpoint almost impossible. "To be reviled and to feel no
pain," this is the Chinese ideal of shamelessness. Nothing is rarer than
to find a Chinese who has been reviled, and who, when he was strong enough
to demand an apology, has allowed the matter to drop.

The intricate constitution of Chinese society is such that there is a
great variety of acts which, while they may not be directly hostile, must
be understood in the light of a challenge. If for example a bully has let
it be known that he is determined that a theatrical representation shall
take place the next autumn in his village, for some one to oppose it might
not improbably be such an act of hostility as to amount to a challenge.
The bully must then see that the theatre is engaged, or his "face" is
lost, which one may be sure will never happen as long as he is able to
prevent it.

There is always about one of these village bullies a general atmosphere of
menace, as if he were thirsting for an opportunity to issue an ultimatum.
He often does so, in a singularly vague manner, the significance of which
is, however, perfectly well understood. If A is the bully, and B is known
to oppose him, then A publicly states that if B does so and so, A will
not put up with it (_pu suan t'a_, literally, "will not take the
account," but insinuating a dark hint as to consequences). If B takes the
hint and quietly retires, there is peace, but otherwise there is war.

One of the qualifications which is very convenient for the village bully,
although not absolutely indispensable, is physical strength. One of the
nicknames of the local bully as just remarked, is that of village king.
Among those whose _forte_ is violence, the king must be a man who has
inherent power, "the man who can," for it is impossible to say at what
moment all his strength will be needed in some fight.

It is in view of this consideration, that it is very common for young
fellows who wish to distinguish themselves among their comrades, to take
systematic lessons in "fist-and-foot," that is, in gymnastics. A high
degree of skill in wrestling, and the ability (as alleged) to deliver such
a blow with the fist as shall knock out a brick from a wall a foot thick,
are in many circumstances valuable accomplishments.

The writer is well acquainted with a young man who enjoyed the reputation
of being the strongest person in his village. Being sent on an errand to a
distant city, he had occasion to pass through a smaller city some forty
_li_ from his home, where he was not known. Here a number of bullies, who
happened to be gathered in front of the district yamên, struck with his
rusticity, stopped him, and demanded who he was and where he was going.
His replies to their inquiries not being sufficiently prompt to give
satisfaction, he was set upon by several men, who attacked him
simultaneously. Here his "fist-and-foot" skill was of great service; for
though two men were on top of him, he was able to seize the ankle of one
of them and to give it such a fearful twist as almost to dislocate the
joint, whereupon his assailants, howling with pain, were only too glad to
release him. At a later date the matter was looked into, and at the feast
which the attacking party was compelled to give, by way of apology, one of
those present hobbled around in a particularly feeble manner, and freely
expressed the opinion that upon this occasion he had mistaken his man!

In the numerous cases in which persons are imposed upon by a bully who is
too much for them, their earliest thoughts are how it may be practicable
to collect a band of men, expert in the "fist-and-foot" practices, and
make an attack upon the aggressive party, by which means he may be
suppressed. The writer once met a man whose home is in a village noted as
the headquarters of a daring and unscrupulous band of thieves. Having been
robbed by them with no prospect of any redress through legal channels,
this man collected a band of athletes and attacked the thieves in the
vicinity of the village where they made their home, so belabouring them
that the band removed its headquarters elsewhere.

It is a useful, but by no means a necessary qualification of the bully,
that he should be a poor man, with nothing to lose. Poverty in China is
often a synonym for the most abject misery and want. The entire
possessions of great numbers of the people would not amount in value to
five dollars, and thousands of persons never know whence the next meal is
to come. Such persons would in European countries constitute what are
called "the dangerous classes." In China, unless their distress is
extreme, they do not mass themselves, and they seldom wage war against
society as a whole. But individuals of this type may, if they have other
requisite abilities, become "village kings," and order the course of
current events much according to their own will.

Such persons, in the figurative language of the Chinese, are called
"barefoot men," in allusion to their destitute condition, and it is a
common saying that "the barefoot man (otherwise known as 'mud-legs') is
not afraid of him who has stockings on his feet," for the former can at
once retreat into the mud, where the latter dare not follow. In other
words, the barefoot man is able to hold in terror the man who has property
to lose, by an open or an implicit threat of vengeance, against which the
man of property cannot safeguard himself.

The forms which this vengeance will take vary according to circumstances.
One of the most common is that of incendiary fires, which, in a thickly
inhabited village, where there is often a large accumulation of fuel
stacked up, is a mode of attack particularly to be dreaded. It is always
easy to set a fire, but difficult and frequently impossible to extinguish
it. We have known numberless instances of this sort, in which, despite all
diligence, no one was ever detected in setting the fire. The terror which
such fires inspire is so great, that the man who is thought to be
specially liable to them may be marked and avoided for that reason alone.
It is considered unsafe to have anything to do with him, much less to aid
him in extinguishing his fires. In one case of this sort, the same
individual was repeatedly visited with incendiary fires, and on the last
occasion all his carts were totally destroyed, nothing remaining but the
tires of the wheels. It was afterward found that strong leather straps had
been used to bind the wheels to the framework of the shed in which they
were kept, so that any attempt to drag the carts out was certain to fail.

Another method by which the bully signifies his dissatisfaction with his
enemy, is by injuring his crops. In a country where the farms are
subdivided into mere fragments, every farmer's land is contiguous to that
of a great number of other persons. As already mentioned a large farm will
often consist of scores of different pieces of ground, which have been
bought as opportunity offered. When the land is planted, and again when
the harvest is gathered, excellent opportunity is afforded for disputes.
The little bushes which serve as boundaries of the fields of different
owners, in regions where stone posts are too expensive, are readily
destroyed or removed, and in any case the boundaries are more or less
inexact, leaving room for uncertainty as to the precise point at which one
piece of ground ends and another begins.

It is in such situations as this that the bully is at his best. It is well
understood that _he_ will suffer no loss, and that whoever happens to be
his neighbour, will literally have "a hard row to hoe." There are
sometimes sections of ground, such as those belonging to public uses,
river embankments, the land of certain temples, and the like, which no one
but a bully could cultivate at all, because the crops must be defended
against invasion from all quarters, and only a bully can furnish the
necessary skill and ferocity to protect himself.

In his essay on Lord Clive, Macaulay mentions the circumstance which was
still remembered in Shropshire, that in his boyish days the great Indian
soldier "formed all the idle lads of the town into a kind of predatory
army, and compelled the shopkeepers to submit to a tribute of apples and
half-pence, in consideration of which he guaranteed the security of the
windows." Young Robert Clive had hit upon the precise principle by which
the Chinese bully maintains himself in perpetual rule, a principle indeed
as old as the race:

      "The good old rule, the simple plan
  That those should take who have the power,
      And those should keep who can."

The means of enforcing these exactions is always at hand, and is expressed
in one fateful and compound noun, _law-suit_. The bully who understands
his business is well acquainted with every one at the district yamên, and
is in fact one of their best customers, or rather the man who brings them
their custom. The yamên is the spider's web, and the bully is the large
insect which drives the flies into the net, where it will go ill with them
ere they escape.

If his adversary is rich, the bully may adopt the plan of leaving a bag of
smuggled salt in the doorway of the rich man, at the same time taking care
to have a "salt inspector" ready to seize the salt, and bring an
accusation against the man of means as a defier of the law. The "salt
inspectors" are themselves smugglers, selected for their expertness in the
art, and like all other underlings in Chinese official life they are
quite free from the trammels of any sort of conscience. From a suit of
this kind no rich man would be likely to escape without the sacrifice of
many thousand strings of cash, being not improbably forced to furnish the
funds for repairing a city wall, for rebuilding a temple, or some other
public work. The capacity to conduct successfully a lawsuit is in China
what it must have been in Bagdad during the time of the Caliph Haroun Al
Raschid to wear the Cap of Darkness and Shoes of Swiftness. Such agencies
defy all foes except those similarly equipped. And as in the Arabian
Nights there are many stories of magicians warring with magicians who also
"did so with their enchantments," in like manner when Chinese bullies meet
in a legal fight at a yamên, it is a battle of giants.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO A YAMEN.]

[Illustration: CHINESE COURT OF JUSTICE.]

The most expert of all this dreaded class is the bully who is also a
literary man, perhaps a _hsiu-ts'ai_, or Bachelor of Arts, and who thus
has a special prestige of his own, securing him a hearing where others
would fail of it, guaranteeing him immunity from beating in open court, to
which others are liable, and enabling him to prepare accusations for
himself or others, and to be certain of the bearing of these documents
upon the case in hand.

These advantages are so great, that it is not uncommon to find persons who
make no secret of the fact that their main motive in submitting to the
toils requisite to gain the lowest literary degree, is that they may be
able, during the rest of their lives, to make use of this leverage as a
means of raising themselves and of harming their neighbours. Any Chinese
bully is greatly to be feared, but none is so formidable as the literary
bully.

One other type of Chinese bully must not fail of mention, for it is in
some respects the most unique of all, to wit the female bully. Her traits
are, _mutatis mutandis_, the same as those of the individuals already
mentioned, but her mere existence is so great a departure from our
ordinary conceptions of Chinese social life, that it needs a word of
explanation. She is simply an evolution of her surroundings. Skill in
speech, physical violence in act, and an executive talent are her
endowments, and her usefulness to the perennially hungry "wolves and
tigers" of the yamên is such that she is called their draught-horse to
draw victims. Like her male compatriots, she is able from her value to the
underlings of the yamên to conduct a lawsuit of her own, without any of
those numberless and vexatious expenses which suck out the lifeblood of
ordinary victims. This makes her a terrible, if not an invulnerable, foe,
and those who are wise will beware of her. According to a Chinese proverb,
a woman is more to be dreaded in such cases than a graduate of the second
degree. It is a saying of a certain humorous philosopher, that "one hornet
can break up a whole camp-meeting, when he feels well." How much mischief
one Chinese bully can accomplish in an average lifetime, it is impossible
to estimate.

While the government of China appears to have elements of extreme
stability, it is at the same time often practically weak in the very
points where it most needs strength, namely, in its capacity to put forth
powerful and sudden efforts. Whenever any uprising of the people takes
place, there is generally nothing to prevent its gaining a great momentum,
owing to the incapacity of the local authorities to cope with it. The same
phenomenon is seen in any personal affray between single individuals.
There are no police to arrest the one who commits a breach of the peace,
and it is only by the intervention of third parties, friendly to the
principals, that order is restored. But if either of the parties is able
to bring a large force to bear upon the person whom he attacks, he is
almost certain to be victorious.

It is at this point that the organisation of the followers of the bully
proves a formidable foe to the peace of Chinese society. Let us suppose
that a man has a violent personal quarrel with an enemy. An outbreak of
their feud occurs at a great fair, such as abound at almost all seasons of
the year. One of the men is intimate with another man who is a
professional bully and who has within call a number of associates who can
be depended upon in an emergency. The man who knows the bully goes to him
and tells him of the grievance and asks his help. The bully lets it be
known among his comrades that a friend is in need of assistance, and that
their services will be called for. The party assembled goes to that
section of the fair-ground where congregate the dealers in sticks used for
supports for awnings, etc., and each man "borrows" a stout sapling,
promising to return it later. With this lawless band, like the forces of
Robin Hood, the bully sets upon his victim and wins an easy victory. None
of the spectators will interfere in a brawl of this sort, for the
consequences might be most serious. It does not follow that there is any
regular organization among the rough members of the dangerous classes who
are assembled, except that they are ready to unite in anything which
promises the joy of battle, and a probable reward in the shape of a
complimentary feast.

Cases of this sort, which are by no means of infrequent occurrence,
exhibit the weakness of the Chinese government, but they also exhibit its
strength. If the millions of China were not satisfied with the existing
rule, nothing would be easier than for them to unite and overthrow it. But
the security of the government is based mainly upon the well-understood
and well-ascertained fact that the people as a whole have no wish to
overturn the system under which they live, as well as upon the equally
indisputable fact that, with the Chinese, effective combination is an
exceedingly difficult matter.

The assemblage of bands of men under the virtual direction of a leader is
a menace to the peace of the whole region in which they live, and it is
not strange that Magistrates of such Districts live a life which is not to
be envied. As plunder is often the real object of these combinations, the
yamên of the Magistrate is as likely to be the point of attack as any
other place, which makes it necessary that the official shall provide
himself with trained athletes, who shall be able to meet and repel
assaults made at night. Cases are occasionally reported in the _Peking
Gazette_, where in spite of this precaution the yamên was robbed, and the
seal actually carried off, to the ruin of the Magistrate, upon whom
perhaps the people are glad to be revenged.

The existence of such small and lawless forces in the midst of Chinese
social life, quiet and orderly as that life ordinarily is, renders it
certain that outbreaks will continually occur. But these attacks are not
all from one side. There are in Chinese many proverbial sayings referring
to the tiger, which have a metaphorical significance, and really denote
the person whom we have named the bully, who is regarded as a social
tiger. One of these sayings is to the effect that a tiger who has wounded
too many men, is liable to fall into a mountain ravine. This means that
the bully who has made enemies of too many people will at last himself
fall into trouble, and then his enemies will be able to have their revenge
upon him.

Cases of this sort are constantly occurring, and often result in one or
more murders, which must be reported, and which are sometimes narrated in
detail in the _Peking Gazette_. It is not uncommon to hear of instances in
which bullies have been attacked by large bands of men, many of them
formerly the victims of the bully. Sometimes he is kidnapped, and
sometimes he is killed outright. The method by which the village wars and
clan fights of the Fu-kien and Kuang-tung provinces are conducted,
probably bears a close analogy to these proceedings. They appear to be
trials of strength between neighbouring rivals, conducted upon the plan of
warfare during the middle ages in which the feudal system reigned. The
local Magistrates take care not to interfere too soon or too far, lest it
be the worse for them. When the fight is over the officers put in an
appearance, arrests are made, and the machinery of government recovers
from its temporary paralysis.

We have spoken of the literary bully as one of those most to be dreaded
in China. But there is another qualification which a bully may possess,
either with or without that of learning, which makes him an almost
irresistible enemy. If he belongs to a family, one or more members of
which are in official life and have a certain degree of power with the
official class, such a man is a dangerous foe. Instances are constantly
coming to light, not only in the native papers of China but also in
memorials in the _Peking Gazette_ (to which we have so frequently had
occasion to refer), showing how difficult, or rather how altogether
hopeless, it is to deal with such offenders. Even in cases of the most
wanton murder, there is always some way by which the matter can be
adjusted, and there is no assurance that the influential culprit gets any
real punishment at all.

The following instance which occurred more than a generation ago, in a
District near to that in which the writer lived for a long time,
illustrates the kind of proceedings to which reference is made.

During the eighteenth century there lived in that County a family named
Lu, one of the members of which attained to the lofty eminence of _Ko
Lao_, or Grand Secretary. A family of this class, especially if it should
be the only one of the sort in the District, exerts a commanding
influence, and it is necessary for the local Magistrate to conduct himself
discreetly, in order not to win the ill-will of such a powerful
corporation. It is well if he is able to collect from them even the
ordinary land-tax, which all the soil of the empire is supposed to pay.

It is related of this family that, upon one occasion having been ordered
by the District Magistrate to collect this tax, the local constable was
unable to do as he was told. Having been repeatedly beaten for his
delinquencies in this respect, he presented himself at the entrance of the
premises of his wealthy neighbour, and with earnest prostrations begged
the gatekeeper to intercede for him, and get the tax paid.

The elderly widow who was the manager of the establishment, having been
informed of this plea, ordered her cart harnessed, and proceeded to the
District Magistrate's yamên, for an interview. The official perhaps
entertained a wild hope that she had come to settle up her arrears of
taxes, and even planned to borrow a sum of money of her, but she soon
dispelled this idea, by telling him in so many words that she herself
required a "loan" of a certain number of thousands of tæls, which the
Magistrate was obliged to promise to get for her, at the earliest possible
moment. As she rose to take her leave, she remarked incidentally that her
gatekeeper had been much annoyed by some of the yamên underlings who hung
about the premises under pretence of wanting a grain-tax, adding that she
should expect to hear no more of such proceedings in future!

Upon another occasion, while the _Ko Lao_ himself was alive, a complaint
was made to the District Magistrate that a son of the _Ko Lao_ had a
maidservant, who was virtually imprisoned in the family mansion. She was
originally hired having been betrothed, but although it was time for her
to be married, her employer refused to let her go. The Magistrate sent for
the son of the _Ko Lao_, made known the charge, and desired the release of
the person detained. He even went to the length of beating the attendant
of the Lu family, who had accompanied his master, the latter being himself
too lofty a subject for punishment. The son went to his home in a towering
rage, and wrote a letter to his father in Peking, detailing the
circumstances. Soon after this, the Magistrate received the news of his
promotion from the grade of Sub-prefect to that of Prefect, in the
province of Ssŭ-ch'uan.

The journey to a new post is often a most serious matter for an official,
and where, as in this case, he has the entire empire to cross, the trouble
and expense are very great. He had no sooner reached this distant post,
than he received a notification that he was promoted to another in the
province of Yün-nan, again involving an expensive and tedious journey.
When he had at length taken up the duties of this office it was only to
be informed that he was promoted afresh to the high rank of Tao-t'ai in a
region beyond the Great Wall. He now began to perceive the significance of
this strange series of events, and wholly unable either to bear the ills
which he already had, or to support the prospect of perhaps greater ones
yet to come, he "swallowed gold," and thus escaped further promotion and
ruin!

XXI

VILLAGE HEADMEN

Many of the phenomena of village life which we shall have occasion to
notice, are instances of the Chinese talent for coöperation.

Perhaps no more important exemplification of this principle is to be found
in Chinese society than that embodied in the local self-government of the
small communities of which the greater part of the empire is composed. The
management of the village is in the hands of the people themselves. At
first this condition of affairs is liable to be mistaken for a pure
democracy, but very slight inquiry is sufficient to make it evident that
while all matters of local concern are theoretically managed by the
people, in practice the burden falls not upon the people as a whole, but
upon the shoulders of a few persons, who in different places are called by
different titles and whose functions differ as much as their designations.

The apparent dead-level uniformity of China is found upon investigation to
be subject to surprising variations, not only in parts of the empire
remote from one another, but in those which are separated by but a short
distance. On this account it is difficult to generalize in regard to the
government of villages in general, but easy to describe that of some
villages, with the explanation that elsewhere the same results may be
attained by means slightly different, or by the same means under different
names.

Every Chinese village is a little principality by itself, although it is
not uncommon for two or more which are contiguous and perhaps otherwise
linked together, to manage their affairs in unison, and perhaps by the
same set of persons. These headmen are sometimes styled _village elders_
(_hsiang chang_, or _hsiang lao_), and sometimes they are termed merely
managers (_shou shih jên_). The theory in regard to these persons is that
they are chosen, or rather nominated, by their fellow-townsmen, and
confirmed in their position by the District Magistrate. In some regions
this is actually done, and for the good conduct of the headmen in their
office the leading land-owners are required to become a security.

The designation "village elders" might be understood to denote that the
persons who bear it are the oldest men in the village, but this is not
necessarily the case. Neither are they necessarily the wealthiest men,
although it is probable that every family of property will be in some way
represented among them. They are not necessarily men of literary
attainments, although this may be the case with a few.

In those regions where the method of selection is most loose, the number
of headmen has no necessary relation to the size of the village; the
position is not hereditary, neither is there any fixed time of service. A
man may act in this capacity at one time, and refuse or neglect to do so
at another time. Where this plan prevails, the headmen are not formally
chosen, nor formally deposed. They drop into their places--or perhaps
climb into them--by a kind of natural selection. The qualities which fit a
villager to act as headman are the same which contribute to success in any
line of business. He must be a practical person who has some native
ability, acquainted with the ways of the world, as well as able and
willing to devote upon occasion an indefinite amount of time and attention
to the affairs which may be put in his charge.

The duties and functions of the headmen are numerous. They may be
classified as those which have relation to the government of the District,
those which relate to the village as such, and those which concern private
individuals, and are brought to the notice of the headmen as being the
persons best able to manage them.

Of the affairs which concern the government, the most important is the
imperial land or grain-tax, the nature of which and the mode of collecting
which vary greatly. Calls are constantly made by the local officials for
government transportation, provision for the entertainment of officers on
government business, materials for the repairs of the banks of rivers,
work on river-banks, patrols for the Imperial roads at the season of year
when travel is at its maximum, and many other similar objects.

The medium through whom the District Magistrate communicates with the
village, is the "local constable," (called the _ti-fang_ or _ti-pao_,) and
this individual has necessarily intimate relations with the headmen, who
constitute the executive board, through which alone definite action is
taken.

Among affairs which relate to a village as such, are to be named the
construction and repair of the wall (if it has one), and the care of the
gates (if they are closed at night), the establishment and supervision of
fairs and markets, the engagement of theatrical companies, the organized
watching of the crops, together with the punishment of persons detected in
violating the rules which have been agreed upon, the building and repair
of temples, the sinking of wells for the use of the village, or the
cleaning of those which are already in use, and a great variety of other
similar duties, depending upon the situation of the village and its
traditions and circumstances.

It is a noteworthy fact that the government of China, while in theory more
or less despotic, places no practical restrictions upon the right of free
assemblage by the people for the consideration of their own affairs. The
people of any village can if they choose meet every day in the year. There
is no government censor present, and no restriction upon liberty of
debate. The people can say what they like, and the local Magistrate
neither knows nor cares what is said. The government has other security
for itself than espionage, and by a system of graded responsibility, is
able to hold all its subjects under strict control. But should
insurrection break out, these popular rights might be extinguished in a
moment, a fact of which all the people are perfectly well aware.

The methods of Chinese management being what they are, it is not
surprising that those who are in the position of headmen find it, or
rather make it to their advantage to stay in it. The ways in which this
comes about are numerous.

There is in every village an unceasing supply of matters which do not
belong to the public, but which must be adjusted by some man or men who
are in the habit of transacting business, and who not only know what is to
be done but how to do it. There are always Chinese who like to engage in
these affairs, such as the adjustment of domestic quarrels, differences
between neighbours, and the like. The headmen of the village will be
certain to be frequently called upon for services of this sort.

But such labours, onerous as they often are, will be acknowledged only by
the thanks of those interested, and a participation in the inevitable
final feast. It is quite otherwise with such public matters as the
collection of material for public uses, and the disbursement of public
funds. Every village has numerous enterprises which involve the handling
of money, and these enterprises must be in the hands of those competent to
take charge of them.

There is not in such cases that constant struggle between the "ins" and
the "outs," which is seen in lands where the democracy is of a more
flagrant type than in China. Yet even in China such contests do sometimes
occur. We know of one village in which the public business had for a long
time been monopolized by a band of men who had subjected themselves to the
criticisms of those who, although younger, felt sure that they were not on
that account the less capable. The result of the criticisms was that the
incumbents withdrew from their places, leaving them to those who offered
the criticisms, a method of adjustment which is known to be practiced in
the government of the empire.

But it is probable that cases of such easy victory are relatively rare,
for the reason that the "ins" have every opportunity to keep themselves in
their position and they are for the most part not at all sensitive to
criticism, being quite content to reap the substantial benefits of their
position, and to leave the talking to spectators. In the ordinary matters
of routine, it is easy for them to find abundant precedents for almost any
irregularity, and to the Chinese precedents are most precious, as marking
out the natural limits of human action.

In many villages but a small portion of the population can read well
enough to inspect accounts, and many of those whose knowledge is equal to
this strain upon it, have no practical familiarity with public business,
with which they have never had any opportunity to become acquainted.

Many who clearly recognize the evils attending the methods in which the
business of their village is managed, do not for two excellent reasons
make any protest. In the first place, to do so would raise a storm about
their heads, which they have no wish to encounter. Even if the movement
should prove completely successful, and the present incumbents should all
be removed from their places, it would be difficult, not to say
impossible, to find others who would manage matters upon any plan
essentially different. A change would be simply the removal of a well-fed
swarm of flies, to make way for a set much more hungry, a substitution
against which the fox in the fable wisely remonstrated. The Chinese wholly
agree with the sagacious fox.

The course which matters take when complaint is really made, may be
understood by an illustrative example with which the writer is acquainted.
During one of the years in which the Yellow River made destructive breaks
in central Shan-tung, an order was issued that all the counties in the
province accessible to the river should furnish a certain quota of millet
stalks to be used in the repair of the river-banks. These stalks were to
be paid for in ready money by the government agents. But as some of the
counties were situated more than two days' journey from the river-banks,
the amount received for the stalks did not cover the cost of the feed of
men and animals for so long a journey. Besides this, the government
officials had a ready means by which to exercise complete control over
those who brought the stalks, by refusing to take over the material or to
weigh it until such time as the officials might be ready. By this means,
both men and teams were kept on expense, so that at last the persons who
hauled stalks were only too glad to be allowed to depart without any pay
at all for the loads which they had brought.

Abuses of this sort were said to be exceedingly common at that time,
although on subsequent occasions we have been assured by those who have
taken stalks to river-embankment, that full pay in good money was
invariably given. In the village to which we refer, the business of
providing and delivering the stalks was put by the District Magistrate
into the hands of an elderly headman, a literary graduate. This man
naturally called about him some of his former pupils, who did the
practical part of the work. They took stalks three times to the place of
deposit, and received in payment about 70,000 cash. Taking advantage of
the general uncertainty which prevailed in regard to payments, these
managers rendered no accounts to the village, but proceeded to appropriate
a certain part of their receipts to their own use.

Matters continued in this way for more than a year, when some of those who
were dissatisfied, called a public meeting in a village temple, and
demanded a clear account of receipts and expenses, which for reasons well
understood, it was impossible to give. Finding that the affair was
becoming serious, the graduate got some residents of the same village to
"talk peace" to the excited villagers. Their argument was this: "If we
press this matter, and take it before the District Magistrate, the old
graduate, who is really altogether innocent, will lose his button and will
be disgraced. The others concerned will all be beaten, and this will
engender hatred and feuds which will last for generations." The middlemen
then proposed that by way of settlement a feast should be prepared by the
graduate, at which a representative of every surname in the village should
be present, and this plan being adopted, because nothing else was
feasible, the matter was buried in compulsory oblivion. This is a type of
a large class of cases.

In many villages, there are those who are never so happy as when they are
in a disturbance with others, and such men will be a thorn in the side of
any "board of aldermen" to whose councils admission is not to be had. It
is very common indeed to hear of lawsuits arising about village temples,
and there is good reason to believe that it is exceptional to meet with a
large ancestral temple, in connection with which quarrels have not arisen
and perhaps lawsuits been prosecuted.

In some districts the temples are built rather from a general impulse to
do as others do than from any sense of the need of such structures, which
become a perpetual tax on the revenues of the people and a source of
dispute. In such regions it is a common thing to meet with temples from
which the priests have been ousted, or which they have voluntarily
abandoned, finding the place too hot for them.

In one instance of this description, which occurred near the writer's
home, a certain prominent headman set on foot a lawsuit which drove
several priests from a Buddhist monastery, and left only one priest where
before there had been many. After the priests had left, this headman
kindly took charge of the temple lands, and absorbed the entire income
himself to the exclusion of the priest, dispensing altogether with
rendering any account whatever for the proceeds. Even the cart and the
harness which belong to the temple, are in this man's yard as if they were
his own.

Intelligent men of this village, when asked why some of them do not
protest against this usurpation, always make the same reply: "Who wants to
stir up a lawsuit, out of which he will gain nothing but loss? It is
certainly no affair of mine." This particular village is scarcely a type
of the average, but it is a very fair sample of the more flagrant cases in
which a small knot of men fasten themselves upon a Chinese community, by
the same process by which many years ago the Tweed ring saddled themselves
upon the city of New York. If any objection is made to their procedure,
the ring inquire disdainfully, in the language of Mr. Tweed, "What are you
going to do about it?" And all the people hasten to reply, "Oh, nothing at
all. It is all right as it is."

An instance of the facility with which trouble may arise in village
affairs was afforded in this same town, during one of the years in which
heavy rains threatened the lands of the village. A part of these lands
were situated in a region subject to inundation, and the rest on higher
ground. As soon as the danger of a flood became apparent, the village
headmen ordered relays of men to work on a bank, which was made of
whatever soil was at hand, and in order to strengthen this bank, the
standing millet was pulled up by the roots, and buried in the earthwork.
Those whose crops were thus ruined, had for this loss no redress whatever.
It is held that the exigency of a public need justifies any injury of this
kind, the persons who benefit by the sacrifice, always largely in the
majority, having no disposition to make up the incidental losses. Some
days after this occurred, the headmen went about collecting a definite
assessment from each acre of land in the village, for the purpose of
paying for the labour upon the bank previously made. They visited the
house of one of the men whose crops had been destroyed, at a time when he
chanced to be away from home and were met by his son, who not only
manifested no awe of the village authorities, but expressed his
indignation at the destruction of the family crops, and declared that
instead of being called upon to contribute to the cost of the ruin which
had been wrought, his family ought to be reimbursed for their own losses.
However compatible such a view may appear with abstract justice, to the
minds of the village headmen this was nothing less than rank treason of
the most dangerous type.

When the head of the family returned, it was to find that the headmen had
already left the village on their way to the District city, to enter a
complaint against him, as one who refused to pay his just dues to the
defence of the village. A lawsuit begun upon such a basis meant nothing
less than a calamity greater than any flood that was likely to overtake
him, so the distracted father hastened to pursue the headmen with offers
of adjustment, made through third parties. By dint of an immense amount of
talking, the headmen were induced to return to the village, without
entering the city and making a formal complaint.

The father of the offending lad then appealed to certain friends living in
another village, to come and intercede for him with the outraged guardians
of the welfare of his own village. In the course of the next forenoon, the
persons who had been entrusted with this difficult task, made their way to
the village, and had interviews with some of the headmen. It was
impossible to get all of these men together at any one time, but one set
was first seen, and then another, until the matter had been thoroughly
discussed in all its bearings. These conferences, including plans of
adjustment offered, modified, rejected, amended, and afterward brought up
again and again, actually consumed the whole day, and all the next night
until the crowing of the cocks announced the dawn, and it was not until
daylight on the second day, that the weary and disgusted "middlemen"
returned to their own village, having at last succeeded in securing a
reduction of the proposed fine, which was to have been an exemplary one,
to a merely nominal amount.

This instance is a type of countless cases everywhere in which the evil
forces of Chinese society effect a coöperation of their own, seriously
modifying all other social phenomena, and leading to results of great
importance.

PART II

Village Family Life

XXII

VILLAGE BOYS AND MEN

There is a passage in one of the oldest Chinese Classics, the Book of
Odes, which, in describing the palace of an ancient king, shows in a
striking light the relative estimation at that remote time put upon boys
and upon girls. After speaking of the dreams of the king, the poet adds a
couple of stanzas, which, according to Dr. Legge's translation, are as
follows:

  Sons shall be born to him; they will be put to sleep on couches;
  They will be clothed in robes; they will have sceptres to play with;
  Their cry will be loud.
  They will be (hereafter) resplendent with red knee-covers,
  The (future) king, the princes of the land.
  Daughters will be born to him. They will be put to sleep on the ground;
  They will be clothed with wrappers; they will have tiles to play with.
  It will be theirs neither to do wrong nor to do good.
  Only about the spirits and the food will they have to think,
  And to cause no sorrow to their parents.

From the sentiment of this poem alone it would be easy to determine the
Chinese of to-day to be lineal descendants of their ancient ancestors.

The early years of a Chinese boy are spent in what, viewed from the
experience of a decade later, must appear to him a condition of supreme
happiness. He is welcomed to the household with a wild delight, to which
it is wholly impossible for an Occidental to do any justice. He begins
life on the theory that whatever he wants, that he must have; this theory
is also the one acted upon by those who have him in charge, to an extent
which seems to us, who occupy the position of impartial critics, truly
amazing. A Chinese mother is the literal slave of her children. If they
cry, they must be coddled, most probably carried about, and at whatever
expense, if it is possible to prevent such a terrible state of things.
They must not be allowed to cry continuously. In this respect, at least,
it does not appear that there is much distinction between the treatment of
boys and girls.

The names given to Chinese children, like those of the babies of North
American Indians, are frequently suggested by whatever happens first to
attract the father's attention, such as Basket, Cart, etc. Each year of
the cycle of twelve has an animal which "belongs to" it, as Dog, Cat,
Chicken, Tiger, Horse or Monkey, and all these names are constantly
employed. If when the child is born an old grandmother happens to be three
score and ten, he is not improbably dubbed "Seventy." Many have no other
appellation than a numerical one such as Three, Five, or Six, to the
hopeless confusion of an inquirer. If the child seems to be of a good
constitution he may receive the title of Stone, or Solid. Should he be
plump, he is likely to be styled Little Fat One; if dark coloured, Little
Black One. Bad Temper, and Little Idiot are common, and if all the
previous children have died, the last one may go by the name of Great
Repairs.

When the parents are peculiarly fearful lest an only boy should be made
away with by malicious spirits, they often call him by a girl's name in
order to deceive the powers of evil, and thus beat them at their own game.
Another plan with the same end in view is a nominal adoption into another
family, where the children spend at least a portion of their time, the
spirits being thus hopelessly perplexed as to which family really owns the
child! Slave Girl, and Old Woman are names sometimes given to boys under
these conditions. A man who had more girls than he desired, called one of
them Enough Hawks (Kou Ying), while another little maid was outfitted
with the happy title "Ought-to-have-been-a-Boy" (Kai Tzŭ). Girls are
frequently named for birds, fruits, and flowers.

All the preceding are "milk-names," or "small names," which strangers must
be careful even should they know them, never to employ. No greater insult
can be put upon an adult Chinese than to revile him in public by his
"small name"--a by no means infrequent occurrence--which seems to convey
the implication that the reviler knows all about his antecedents and holds
them in supreme contempt.

It is a highly convenient arrangement of Chinese family nomenclature, that
the names of each member of the same generation (within certain defined
degrees of cousinship) furnish a clue to his relationship to the rest.
Thus, if a man's surname is Wang, his family name (which can be either two
characters or one) may be compounded with the character denoting Spring,
in which case one brother might be called Wang Spring-Flowers, the next
Wang Spring-Fragrance, a third Wang Spring-Fields, and so universally for
that generation as far away among the cousins as the Spring influence
penetrates. These family names are theoretically recorded in carefully
kept registers, and must not be repeated in later generations, or only
after the lapse of a due number of generations. Memorials sometimes appear
in the _Peking Gazette_ from high officials asking permission to have a
family name altered, since a repeated title has inadvertently been taken.

This use of the same characters in Chinese family names has often been
compared to the Anglo-Saxon habit of bestowing upon brothers names of
which one syllable is constant, as Edward, Edwin, Edmund, Edgar, etc.

Besides the name, there is the "style," often much more in use than any
other designation, which may be bestowed upon the owner by a friend. It is
common by a respectful familiarity to prefix to the first character of the
style, the honourific "Old," (_Lao_) making still another title. Thus
supposing Mr. Wang Spring-Fragrance has the style of Illustrious Virtue,
his common appellation may be Wang Old Illustrious, his other names being
used as alternatives. The result of all this is that a single Chinese not
infrequently appears to be three and sometimes four, since students have
also their examination names, differing, strange to say, from any which
they have hitherto borne. The confusion attending the addressing of
Chinese letters in correspondence would be intolerable to an Occidental.

Aside from the ambiguities already mentioned, it sometimes appears to the
writer of a letter a happy expedient to employ a title on the back of his
epistle, known only to himself and to the recipient, to the great
bewilderment of the persons through whose hands the missive may pass. We
have seen a Chinese teacher invited to inspect the address of a letter of
this sort, the destination of which neither he nor any one else could
decide. Yet it subsequently turned out that the epistle was meant for his
own son! With all this labyrinth of future complexity the village boy is
very little concerned, often passing through life without any name at all
to speak of.

In this connection it is worth noting that the foreigner in China suffers
from a chronic embarrassment as to how to address a Chinese. There is in
the language no term answering to our Mister or Master, the nearest
equivalent being the words Elder-born or Seignor (_Hsien-shêng_). The
expression properly connotes a Teacher in reality or by courtesy, and
although applied indiscriminately to blind men (even if they should be
beggars) will not serve for general use. Honourific terms abound, but in
the rural regions these are not in use, and are but dimly comprehensible.
On the principle that "Within the four seas all are brethren," it is the
Chinese habit to _assume the existence_ of a relationship, so that the
passing stranger may appropriately call out to one whom he has never seen
before: "Great elder-brother may I borrow your light and inquire whether
this is the right road to Peking?" Should the person addressed be an old
man, the title would be changed to Uncle or Grandfather. The fact that the
term for an older uncle differs from that for a younger one, embarrasses
the foreigner by forcing upon him a decision of the difficult question
which one to use, for deciding which point he often has absolutely no
data.

A Chinese married woman has literally no name at all, but only two
surnames, her husband's and her father's, so that when these chance to be
common ones, it is impossible by this means to discriminate one woman from
another. If Chinese women are to be addressed by strangers at all, there
is even more embarrassment than in the case of men. In some regions the
term Elder-sister-in-law (_sao-tzŭ_) serves indiscriminately for any
woman, but in others Aunt (_la-niang_) must be used, while in yet others
nothing is appropriate but Grandmother (_nai-nai_) which elsewhere would
be equivalent to Old Granny. When there happen to be three generations of
women in the same family to dub them all "Grandmother" (especially if one
of them is a girl in her teens just married) is flagrantly absurd. Beggars
at the other gates clamour to have their "Aunts" bestow a little food, and
the phrase Old Lady (_lao T'ai-t'ai_) is in constant use for any woman
past middle life.

The age at which a boy is too large to be carried is a very indefinite
one, and it is common to see distracted mothers staggering with their
little goat-feet under the weight of children half their own size, lugging
their offspring about for the reason that "they would not stand it" to be
put down. A preparatory discipline of this nature is not adapted to teach
children independence, self-control, or any useful lessons, and the result
is such as might have been expected. But the Chinese child is an eminently
practical being, and he finds by experience that, when there are half a
dozen children smaller than himself, the period of his own supreme rule
has passed away, and has passed away never to return. To this altered
condition he soon learns to adapt himself.

Of that sympathy for childhood as such, which is so distinguishing a part
of our modern civilization, an average Chinese father has no conception
whatever. By this is not meant that he is not fond of his children, for
the reverse is most palpably true. But he has no capacity for entering
into the life of a child, and comprehending it. His fondness for his
children is the result of the paternal instinct, and is not an intelligent
and sympathetic appreciation of the mind of a child. He not only has no
conception of such a thing, but he would not be able to understand what is
meant by it, if the possibility of such sympathy were pointed out. The
invariable reply to all suggestions, looking toward such sympathy coming
from a foreigner, seems to be, "Why, he is only a mere child!" It is by
the slow moulding forces of maturing life alone that the boy is expected
to learn the lessons of life, and these lessons he must learn
largely--though not altogether--by himself.

To most Chinese children, there is very little that is attractive in their
own homes. The instinct of self-preservation does of course lead them to
fly thither, as soon as they meet with any repulse from without, but this
instinct they share with animals.

Chinese courtyards are almost invariably very contracted, and allow little
scope for enterprising youth to indulge in any but the most crude and
simple forms of amusement. The Chinese lad generally has but few toys, and
those of the simplest and most clumsy description. At certain festivals,
especially in the cities, one sees the children loaded down with all
varieties of playthings often of a flimsy and highly inexpensive
character. In the country the same phenomenon is observed wherever there
has been a large fair, at which the provision for the children is always
on a scale commensurate with their known wants. But of these articles made
of earth, paper, bits of cloth, clay, reeds, sugar, and other perishable
substances, nothing will be left when the next moon shall have completed
its orbit. In regions where bamboo is to be had, there are a few more
serviceable and less fragile articles constructed expressly for the
children, and such articles doubtless have a longer lease of life.

That Chinese parents should take occasion to have a romp with their
children, or even to engage with them in any game whatever, is, so far as
we have observed, a thing wholly outside of the range of their wildest
imagination. Children have very few games which can be played in the
house, and the time which is to our little ones the cream of the whole
day, that namely in which they can gather "around the evening lamp," is to
the Chinese a period of dismal obscurity. By the dim light of a small and
ill-trimmed wick, dipped into a few spoonfuls of crude vegetable oil, the
evening's occupations are carried on as best they may be; but to a
foreigner a Chinese home is at such times most ideally comfortless,
especially if the season be winter. No wonder that those members of the
family who can do so, are glad to crawl upon the more or less perfectly
warmed _k'ang_, and wrap themselves in their wadded bedclothes. During the
portion of his existence in which the father and the mother of the Chinese
child most gladly forsake him, kind Morpheus takes him up, and claims him
for his own.

The outdoor games of Chinese children are mostly of a tame and
uninteresting type. Tossing bits of earth at a mark, playing shuttlecock
with his toes and heels, striking a small stick sharpened at the ends so
as to make it jump into a "city," a species of "fox and geese," a kind of
"cat's-cradle," a variety of "jack-stones,"--these are among the most
popular juvenile amusements in the rural regions with which we happen to
be acquainted. Chinese cities have allurements of their own, some of which
do not differ essentially from those found in other parts of the world
than China. But even in the country, where restrictions are at a minimum,
Chinese lads do not appear to take kindly to anything which involves much
exercise. One does not ordinarily see them running races, as foreign boys
of the same age cannot fail to do, and their jumping and climbing are of
the most elementary sort. We have never heard of a crow which was so
injudicious as to build its nest in a spot where it would be visible to
the eye of an Anglo-Saxon boy, unless the owner of the eye had previously
made a long journey with it to a distance from all human habitations. But
Chinese crows build their huge nests in all sorts of trees, in and about
every Chinese village. It is not uncommon to see an old poplar with ten or
twelve of these huge nests of sticks, which are undisturbed from year to
year and from generation to generation.

The writer once counted twenty-four such nests in a single moderate sized
elm, and this in the suburbs of a Chinese city. Buddhist teachings in
regard to the sacredness of animal life do not suffice to account for the
singular inviolability which crows' nests enjoy in China. In the spring
they are sometimes defended with the query; "How would you like to have
your house pulled down?" But in a region where every stick of fuel is
precious, what sacredness can attach to a bushel or two of large twigs,
when the crows have visibly done using them? Neither does superstition in
regard to ill-luck arising from demolition of the nests of crows explain
their security, although at first sight this may seem to be the case.
Extensive inquiries have satisfied us that the true explanation is simply
the natural one, that the Chinese boy is _afraid_ to climb so high as a
crow's-nest. "What if he should fall?" says every one when applied to for
information on the point, and it is this unanswered and unanswerable
question which seems to protect young Chinese crows from age to age.

The Chinese boy can seldom get access to running water; that is to say,
the proportion of Chinese who can do so is infinitesimal. Most of them
have no lakes, rivers, or ponds in which they can plunge and learn to
swim, or in which they can fish. The village mud-hole is the nearest
approach to the joys of a "watering-place" to which Chinese children can
ordinarily aspire. These excavations are the hole whence the material for
the village houses was originally dug. During the summer time these pits,
many of them as large as a dry-dock, are filled to the brim with dirty
water, and at such times they are sure to be surrounded by groups of
children clad in the costume of the garden of Eden, enjoying one of the
few luxuries of their mundane existence. When the boys are too large to
indulge in this amusement, there is much reason to fear that most of them
have taken their last bath, no matter to what age their lives may be
prolonged!

[Illustration: CHINESE PUNCH AND JUDY.]

[Illustration: THE VILLAGE STORY-TELLER.]

If he cannot fish, neither can the Chinese boy go a-hunting, for in the
most populous parts of the plains, of which so large a portion of the
empire is composed, there is nothing to hunt. A few small birds, and the
common hare, seem to constitute the objects most frequently shot, but
except in the case of the limited number of those who make a business of
securing such game to sell as a means of support, there are very few
persons who devote their energies to any form of hunting. Indeed, the
instinct which is said to lead the average Englishman to remark "It is a
fine day, let us go and kill something," is totally lacking in the
Chinese.

In those relatively limited parts of the empire where ice forms to a
sufficient thickness to bear the weight of human beings, one does see
considerable frolicking upon frozen rivers and ponds. But the propulsion
of the ice-sleds with passengers is a matter of business with those
boatmen who during the season of navigation have no other means of earning
a living. Chinese children do not take to them as our boys do to sleds,
and even if they wish to do so, their parents would never dream of
furnishing the children with such an ice-sled simply for amusement. To
earn one, as a boy at home earns a sled or a pair of skates, by doing
extra work, by picking up old iron, and other similar expedients, would be
for a Chinese lad an impossibility.

If the amusements of the Chinese lad are relatively scanty and
uninteresting, there is one feature of his life which is a fixed fact, and
upon which nothing is allowed to intrude. This is his work. The number of
Chinese children within any given area is literally incalculable, but it
may be safely laid down as a general truth, that by far the larger part
of these children are for the greater part of their time made to do some
useful work. There is scarcely any handicraft in which even the very
smallest children cannot be utilized, and it is for this reason in part
that hereditary occupations are so commonly the rule. The child bred up to
one mode of physical activity is fitted for that, if he is fitted for
nothing else. If he is the son of a farmer, there is a very small portion
of the year during which there is not some definite work for him to do, by
way of assisting in the cultivation of the land. This is no doubt true of
farming everywhere, but the unfailing industry of the Chinese and the
heavy pressure of the common poverty give to this fact an emphasis not so
strongly felt in other lands.

But even if the work on the land were all done, which is never the case
until the winter has actually set in, there are two occupations at which
the children may be set at any time, and at which more myriads of young
persons are probably employed, than in any other portion of the planet.
These two employments are gathering fuel and collecting manure. In a land
where the expense of transportation forbids the use of coal in places
distant even a few miles from the mouth of the pit, it is necessary to
depend upon what comes from the soil in any particular place, for fuel to
cook the food and furnish such warmth as can be got. Not a stalk, not a
twig, not a leaf is wasted. Even at the best, the products of a field ill
suffice in the item of fuel for the wants of those who own it. The Chinese
habit of constantly drinking hot water, which must be furnished afresh as
often as it cools and for each chance comer, consumes a vast amount of
fuel over and above what would be strictly required for the preparation of
food. The collection and storage of the fuel supply is an affair second in
importance only to the gathering of the crops. But in every village, a
considerable although varying proportion of the population is to be found
who own no land. These people pick up a precarious living as they can, by
working for others who have land, but their remuneration is slight, and
often wholly insufficient for the food supply of the many mouths
clamouring to be filled.

Farm labourers can be hired by the year in Shan-tung, for a sum equal to
not more than five dollars in gold, with food but no perquisites. If the
year has an intercalary month the labourer sometimes gets less than two
cents a day. When refugees from regions flooded by the Yellow River
abound, workmen can be obtained at merely nominal wages.

The writer has known an able-bodied boy engaged for a year for a sum equal
to about a dollar and a half (gold). In another case a lad was offered
about a dollar for a year's toil, and was required to find some one as
security that he would not abscond!

For the fuel wherewith to cook the exiguous supplies of this uncertain
food, the family is wholly dependent upon what the children can scratch
together. Any intermission of this labour is scarcely less a check upon
the means of existence, than the interruption of the work of the
bread-winner himself. In this dismal struggle for a basket full of leaves
and weeds, the children of China expend annually incomputable millenniums
of work.

In the midst of such a barren wilderness as constitutes the life of most
Chinese children, anything which breaks the dull monotony is welcomed with
keen joy. The feast-days, the annual or semiannual fairs held at some
neighbouring town, an occasional theatrical exhibition, the humbler Punch
and Judy performance, the peripatetic story-teller, the unfailing
succession of weddings and funerals, and most of all the half-month
holiday at New Year all serve as happy reliefs to the unceasing grind of
daily toil.

There is one incident in the life of the Chinese lad, which assumes in his
eyes some degree of importance, to which most Occidental boys are
strangers. This is the ceremony of donning the cap, in other words of
becoming a man and his marriage. The age at which this takes place is far
from being a fixed one, but is often in the vicinity of sixteen. The
customs observed vary widely, in some rural districts they frequently
consist in nothing more exciting than the playing by a band of music in
the evening before his marriage, and a visit on the part of the young man
to each house in the village where he makes his prostration, much as at
New Year, and is henceforth to be considered a full-grown man, and is
protected to some extent from snubs because he is "only a child."

The more conspicuous part of the affair, however, is the wedding. This
proceeding is based upon principles so radically different from those to
which we are accustomed, that it is generally hard for a Westerner to
become reconciled either to the Chinese theory or to the practice. To us,
marriage seems suitable for persons who have attained, not merely years of
puberty, but a certain maturity of development compatible with the new
relations which they now assume. We regard the man and wife as the basis
and centre of a new family, and there is ancient and adequate authority
for the doctrine that they should leave father and mother. In China it is
altogether otherwise. The boy and girl who are married are not a new
family, but the latest branch in a tall family tree, independent of which
they have no corporate existence.

It is by no means uncommon for boys to be married at the age of ten,
although this is regarded as a trifle premature. The physical,
intellectual, or moral development of the parties concerned has nothing
whatever to do with the matter of their marriage, which is an affair
controlled by wholly different considerations. Sometimes it is hastened
because an old grandmother is in feeble health and insists upon seeing the
main business of life done up before she is called away. Sometimes the
motive is to settle the division of a piece of property so that it shall
be impossible for the elder heirs to retreat from the settlement. Quite as
often the real motive for hastening the wedding is the felt need in the
boy's family of an additional servant, which need will be supplied by the
introduction of a new bride. It is for this reason that so many Chinese
women are older than their husbands. When they are betrothed, the bigger
they are the better, because they can do all the more work.

To a Chinese, there is no more sense of incongruity in marrying a little
slip of a boy, simply because he is young, and perhaps not more than half
the size of his bride, than there would be in playing checkers with
buttons, and then crowning the first button that happened to get to the
king-row. What signified whether the button is a small one or a large one,
since it has reached the last row, and has now a set of moves of its own,
a fact which must be recognized by doubling itself. It is not otherwise
with the Chinese boy. He is a double button, it is true, but he is nothing
but a button still, and a small one, and is only an insignificant part of
a wide and complicated game.

During the celebration of a Chinese wedding it does not strike the
spectator that the bridegroom is the centre of interest, and the bride is
so only for the time being, and in consequence of the curiosity which is
felt to see what sort of a bargain the family has made in getting her. The
young man is ordered out of the apartment where he has been kept in
ambush--according to the custom in some regions--like an ox for the
sacrifice. He is to fall upon his knees at a word of command, and kotow
with intermittent sequence to a great variety of persons, until his knees
are stiff and his legs lame. His eyes are fixed upon the ground, as if in
deepest humility, and the most awkward Chinese youth will perform the
details of this trying ordeal with a natural grace, with which the most
well-bred Occidental youth could scarcely hope to vie, and which he
assuredly could not hope to surpass.

When the complicated protracted ceremonies are all over, our young lad is,
it is true, a married man, but he is not the "head" of any family, not
even of his own. He is still under the same control of his father as
before, his bride is under the control of the mother-in-law, to a degree
which it is difficult for us to comprehend. If the youthful husband is
trying to learn to compose essays, his marriage does not at all interrupt
his educational enterprise and as soon as the ceremonies are over he goes
on just as before. If he is dull, and cannot make the "seven empty
particles"--the terror of the inexpert Chinese essayist--fit into his
laborious sentences to the satisfaction of his teacher, he is not unlikely
to be beaten over the head for his lack of critical acumen, and can then
go weeping home to have his wife stick a black gummy plaster over the area
of his chastisement. We have known a Chinese boy who had the dropsy in an
aggravated form but who could not be persuaded to take a single dose of
medicine that was at all bitter. If he was pressed to do so by his fond
mother, he either fell into a passion, or cried. If he was not allowed to
eat two whole watermelons at a time his tactics were the same, a domestic
scene either of violent temper, or of dismal howling grief. He was merely
prolonging into youth the plan universally adopted in the childhood of
Chinese children. Yet this sensitive infant of seventeen had been married
for several years, and leaves a widow to mourn the circumstance that
drugs, dropsy, and watermelons, have blighted her existence.

It is far from being an infrequent circumstance for boys who have been
married early, on occasion of some grievance, to run crying to their
mothers for comfort as they have been in the habit of doing, and to be met
with the chilling inquiry: "Why do you come to me? If you want anything,
go to _Her_!"

By a strange exception to the otherwise almost uniform prudishness of
Chinese practice, on the occasion of a wedding it is common--although by
no means universal--for guests to take the liberty of going into the
apartment set apart for the married pair, inspecting the bride as if she
were an animal just purchased at a market, openly expressing whatever
criticisms may occur. In this as in everything else customs differ
greatly, but the phrase "playing pranks in the bridal room" (_nao
tung-fang_) testifies to the frequency of the occurrence. In the year
1893, a native newspaper of Canton reported a case in which the bride was
actually killed in this way, by having cold water poured on her, the
perpetrators being fined $200 for "consolation money," and all the costs
of remarrying.

It is a postulate of Chinese ethics that no branch of any family should be
allowed to be without its living representative, in order that the
ancestral rites may be duly performed. As it constantly happens that there
are no sons, it becomes necessary to adopt those of other brothers, or
failing these the grandson of an uncle, or the great-grandson of a
granduncle. Sons thus adopted are on the same footing as if they were own
children, and cannot be displaced by such sons born later. The
universality of these adoptions often makes it difficult to ascertain with
precision the real relationship of a man to others of his family.
Sometimes he continues to call his real father by that title, and
sometimes he terms the uncle who has adopted him his "father" and his own
father "uncle." Again, he may be nominally adopted by an uncle, but
continue to live with his own parents as before. The adoption of relatives
is expressed by the general term "crossing over," (_kuo_) and it is a
sufficiently important feature of Chinese life to serve as the subject for
a treatise rather than for a paragraph. It enters into the warp and woof
of all Chinese family life, which cannot be comprehended without taking
into account the substratum upon which the universal practice rests. While
it is rooted in ancestral worship it is kept alive among even the poorest
classes in the social scale by their very poverty. If a man has no heir he
can be compelled to adopt some one of the numerous candidates who are
thirsting to enter into prospective possession of even a small holding.
But whoever is thus adopted becomes responsible for the funeral expenses
of the one who adopts him. Innumerable lawsuits arise out of these complex
conditions.

If there are no suitable persons for adoption among the family or clan of
the adopter, he is often obliged to content himself with the son of his
sisters, or even the grandchildren of his aunts. To our thought one
"nephew" is as good as another, but it is otherwise with a Chinese, to
whom the children of his sister (being of a different surname) are much
farther off than those of his brothers. Besides this, on occasion of the
death of the adopter, the position of a sister's son is liable to be very
insecure. Rather than take such an heir many Chinese will pick up a mere
stranger, but in this case he can be easily got rid of should he turn out
unsatisfactory. Outsiders thus adopted although they may be as filial and
in every way as satisfactory as an own son, never escape the stigma of
being only "picked up," and this taint lasts to distant generations. A man
told the writer that he was wholly without influence in the village where
he was born, since his grandfather had been adopted as a stranger.

There is still another method of securing a son which is far less common
than we should expect it to be. This is that of finding a suitable husband
for a daughter, and then adopting him as a son. By this means the parents
are enabled to have the services of an own daughter all their lives--a
rare privilege in China, and an adopted heir of this kind is certainly
much more closely bound to the family than any other of a different family
would be likely to be. But there are not many clans which do not have a
number of candidates available for an adoptive vacancy. It would be
necessary to conciliate whoever was entitled to adoption by dividing the
property with him, which, in the case of those with but small resources,
would be tantamount to perpetual pauperism. For this reason most cases of
"calling a son-in-law" occur in families where there are no sons of
brothers or cousins available.

As a rule every Chinese is as wide awake to opportunities for laying claim
to the property of some one else, as a cat apparently asleep is to seize
an injudiciously venturesome bird. The writer is acquainted with a man
who had adopted a son-in-law in legal form, but who at the funeral of his
own father was surprised to see a large band of strangers enter his
courtyard clad in mourning, and set up a simultaneous wail for their
"Uncle," "Grandfather," etc., according to the alleged relationship. Upon
inquiry he learned that they came from a village at some distance, and
bearing the same surname as the deceased had determined to claim kinship
with him in order to fall heirs to the property which consisted of but
little more than enough to support a moderate sized family. The result was
a lawsuit in which the pretenders being unable to produce any family
register to the purpose, were severely beaten by the District Magistrate
as a penalty for their presumption.

One is constantly surprised in China to hear that a Chinese whose name he
knows perfectly well, has taken an entirely different surname, so that Mr.
Wang Spring-Flowers suddenly appears as Mr. Ma Illustrious-Virtue. This is
called "reverting to the original name," and may be due to any one of a
great variety of causes. Even while these lines are being committed to
paper, a friend of the writer has called to mention the experiences
through which he has recently passed, a résumé of which may throw a little
light on the Chinese theory and practice of adoption. This man is the
second of four brothers, the eldest of whom was adopted into a somewhat
distant branch of the family, and has three sons. Number two has two sons,
the youngest of whom is adopted by number three, who has none of his own.
Number four died some time ago without a son. The funeral has never been
held, and the body has been encoffined awaiting a favourable time, that is
to say, a period of financial prosperity. Number four owed to a grain-shop
in which numbers two and three are interested, several hundred strings of
cash. To pay up this debt and to have a proper funeral, would require the
sale of all the forty acres of land, so that the right of adoption has not
seemed worth contesting. But of late a son of number one has set up a
claim to this inheritance, and it is this which has been in active
dispute for a period of twelve days. To adjust the matter, "peace-talkers"
have been summoned to the number of _thirty-eight_, many of them literary
graduates. There have been angry disputes between them and some of the
members of the family, and an actual fight. The "peace-talkers" were
reviled, and took revenge by beating the son of number one who was in
fault. This involved fresh complications, which had just been settled by a
final feast.

During the course of the intricate controversies the eight and thirty men
had by no means omitted to eat and drink (one of the leading functions of
"peace-talkers" and for the sake of which many quarrels are purposely
stirred up, and many more kept unsettled for long periods). They consumed
in all seventy catties of wine, and a hundred more of bread-cakes, and the
total cost to number two is about two hundred and thirty strings of cash,
one hundred of which are paid by number two to number one's family as
"consolation money." Yet in this whole matter the financial interest of
number two is absolutely nil!

Another of the many devices which the Chinese have chosen for perpetuating
a branch of the family which might otherwise become extinct, is to have a
single individual represent two branches. Thus suppose there are two
brothers only one of whom has a son, he may be married to two wives, one
for each branch. The establishment must be a double one, and he will
probably be obliged to divide his time equally between his partners, even
having to change all his clothing in going from one house to the other. It
is needless to remark that the jealousies thus provoked are such as would
destroy any home.

If there is very little sentiment connected with the introduction of a
daughter-in-law into a family, on the part of the husband's family at
least, there is often not much more on the occasion of her death. But this
is generally regretted, if for no other reason, on account of the trouble
and expense involved. Perhaps there is no single particular in which the
Orient and the Occident differ more widely than in the utter disregard of
Orientals for what we understand by privacy and for quiet. The lack of the
latter is indeed often vaguely felt, but as it is a blessing known only by
the imaginative faculty and never from experience, its absence has none of
the intolerable features which we should associate with it. The moment
that any Chinese is ill, the first step is to send in every direction to
notify all sorts and grades of relatives, many of whom will feel it their
stern duty to drop whatever they are doing, no matter what its importance,
to go, and "take a look." This inspection not infrequently extends for
days and sometimes for weeks, when the presence of the relative has not
the smallest relation to the care of the sick person, except as a
hinderance by adding to the throng that hover over the patient, each with
his endless questions as to how he feels _now_, and each with fertile
suggestions as to articles of food vying with one another in
preposterousness. Few of us would not welcome death as a relief from the
experiences incident to serious illness under Chinese conditions, but
under these conditions all Chinese are born, live, and die.

If a sick person is considered to be beyond the possibility of recovery,
the next step is to "put on the clothes," that is, those in which he is to
be buried, a process which involves pulling him about to an extent which
it is distressing to contemplate. In the case of old men there are
sometimes angry disputes about the property in the immediate presence of
death, and in that of wives--especially younger ones--if there is any
considerable property, it will not be strange if the house is visited by
relays of go-betweens intent upon proposing an eligible successor to the
one about to depart, so as to be certain to forestall other offers. These
negotiations may take place in the immediate presence of the dying woman,
perhaps two or more strangers striving at the same time to get a hearing
with their rival proposals!

The writer is acquainted with a family in which this took place, and one
of the offers was accepted, but the sick woman contrived not to die after
all! The agreement, however, was valid, and the prospectively stricken
husband thus found himself provided with _two lawful wives_, each of whom
subsequently bore him sons. Strange to say the family life is in this
instance a comparatively peaceful one. Should a wife die, it is often a
short time before the marriage of the next one takes place, an interval
regulated not by sentiment, but by the difficulty of raising funds. Soon
after the wedding may come the funeral of the predecessor.

In theory a Chinese lad becomes of age at sixteen, but as a practical
thing he is not his own master while any of the generation above him
within the five degrees of relationship remain on the mundane stage. To
what extent these relatives will carry their interference with his
affairs, will depend to a large extent upon their disposition, and to some
extent upon his own. In some households there is a great amount of
freedom, while in others life is a weariness and an incessant vexation
because Chinese social arrangements effectually thwart Nature's design in
giving each human being a separate personality, which in China is too
often simply merged in the common stock, leaving a man a free agent only
in name.

Taking it in an all around survey there is very little in the life of the
village boy to excite one's envy. As we have already seen, he generally
learns well two valuable lessons, and the thoroughness with which they are
mastered does much to atone for the great defects of his training in other
regards. He learns obedience and respect for authority, and he learns to
be industrious. In most cases, the latter quality is the condition of his
continued existence and those who refuse to submit to the inexorable law,
are disposed of by that law, to the great advantage of the survivors. But
of intellectual independence, he has not the faintest conception or even a
capacity of comprehension. He does as others do, and neither knows nor
can imagine any other way. If he is educated, his mind is like a subsoil
pipe, filled with all the drainage which has ever run through the ground.
A part of this drainage originally came, it is true, from the skies, but
it has been considerably altered in its constituents since that time; and
a much larger part is a wholly human secretion, painfully lacking in
chemical purity. In any case this is the content of his mind, and it is
all of its content.

If, on the other hand, the Chinese youth is uneducated, his mind is like
an open ditch, partly vacant, and partly full of whatever is flowing or
blowing over the surface. He is not indeed destitute of humility; in fact
he has a most depressing amount of it. He knows that he knows nothing,
that he never did, never shall, never can know anything, and also that it
makes very little difference what he knows. He has a blind respect for
learning, but no idea of gathering any crumbs thereof for himself. The
long, broad, black and hopeless shadow of practical Confucianism is over
him. It means a high degree of intellectual cultivation for the few, who
are necessarily narrow and often bigoted, and for the many it means a
lifetime of intellectual stagnation.

XXIII

CHINESE COUNTRY GIRLS AND WOMEN

The Chinese are as practical a people as ever had a national existence,
and we know of no reason to suppose that the Chinese ever had the least
doubt that a substantial equality of the sexes in point of numbers is a
condition of the continued propagation of the race. Certainly no race was
ever more careful to keep itself propagated, or has ever met with greater
success in the undertaking. Yet the Chinese are almost the only people
boasting an ancient and developed civilization who despise their own
daughters who are married into the families of others, and are by that
process lost to their own because according to ancient custom they can
offer no sacrifices for their parents when the latter are dead. It is for
this reason that the popular saying declares that the most ideally
excellent daughter (literally a daughter with the virtues of the eighteen
Lo-hans) is not equal to a splay-footed son. This sentiment is endorsed by
all Chinese consciously and unconsciously, in a manner to show that it is
interwoven with the very fibres of their being. Its ultimate root is the
same as that of so many other human opinions, pure selfishness.

The Chinese girl when she makes her first appearance in the world is very
likely to be unwelcome, though this is by no means invariably the case.
The ratio in which fortune-tellers allot happiness is generally about five
sons to two daughters. "Whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil."
With theories like those of the Chinese about the unavailability of
daughters for the performance of ancestral rites, and with the Chinese
nature as it is, it is not to be wondered at that the great pressure of
poverty leads to the crime of infanticide upon an enormous scale. For
aught that appears, this has always been the case. It is not that the
Chinese conscience does not recognize the murder of girl babies as wrong,
but that the temptation to such murder, especially the temptation to the
disappointed and often abused mother, is too strong to be resisted by any
motives which have the opportunity to act upon her.

Much has already been done by those who have had most opportunity to learn
the facts, toward exhibiting the real practice of the Chinese in the
matter of destroying female infants. Yet no more can be safely predicated
than that this is a crime which to some extent everywhere prevails, and in
some places to such a degree as seriously to affect the proportion of the
sexes. It seems to be most common in the maritime provinces of the
southern part of China, in some districts of which it is by the Chinese
themselves regarded as a terrible and a threatening evil. Native tract
societies publish books exhorting the people against the practice, and
magistrates occasionally issue proclamations forbidding it, but it is
evident that the nature of the offence is such that no laws can touch it,
and nothing short of the elevation of the mothers themselves to a far
higher point of view than they now occupy, can have any permanent effect
upon Chinese female infanticide.

Next to the destruction of the lives of female infants, the Chinese
practice most revolting to our Western ideas is the sale of their
daughters, at all periods from infancy up to a marriageable age. The
usages of different parts of the empire vary widely, but the sale of
girls, like infanticide, seems to flourish most in the maritime provinces
of the south, where it is conducted as openly as any other traffic. That
the parents are generally impelled to this extreme step simply by the
pressure of poverty we are quite ready to believe. Yet the knowledge that
the girl must be separated from her family at a later period, and that
this parting is irrevocable, must tend to reconcile many Chinese parents
to an anticipation, by a few years, of the inevitable. Of the miseries
which girls who have been thus sold are likely to endure, it is
unnecessary to speak in detail, but enough is known on the subject to lead
us to regard the practice with horror. If the parents do not feel able to
keep their daughter until she is old enough to be married, and yet do not
wish to sell her, Chinese custom has invented another expedient, which is
a compromise between the two. This is the well-known "rearing-marriage,"
by which the girl is made over to the family into which she is to be
married, and is by that family brought up, and married whenever their
convenience dictates. There are manifest and grave objections to this
practice, but there can be no doubt that it is far better than the custom
of child marriages, which lead to so much wretchedness in India. In some
instances the relations with the family of the girl are wholly broken off,
when she is taken for a "rearing-marriage," and in all cases it is
regarded as a confession of poverty and weakness, which places the girl's
family at much more than their usual disadvantage, at best sufficiently
great. When a girl is brought up in the family the son of which is to
become her future husband, it is of course wholly out of the question that
the parties should not have the fullest opportunities to become acquainted
with each other's disposition, however they may be forbidden by usage to
speak to one another. There is and can be very little sentiment about
Chinese matches, but anything which tends to make the parties to one of
these matches better able to adapt themselves to the inevitable friction
of after life, cannot fail to have its advantages. Whether the parties to
a "rearing-marriage" are or are not on the whole happier than those
married in the ordinary way, is a question which no Chinese would be
likely to ask, for the reason that he has no associations connecting
marriage with happiness, but rather the reverse, and if the question is
proposed by a foreigner, he is not likely to be made much the wiser by the
replies which he receives.

The practice of binding the feet of Chinese girls is familiar to all who
have the smallest knowledge of China, and requires but the barest mention.
It is almost universal throughout China, yet with some conspicuous
exceptions, as among the Hakkas of the south, an exception for which it is
not easy to account. The custom forcibly illustrates some of the innate
traits of Chinese character, especially the readiness to endure great and
prolonged suffering in attaining to a standard, merely for the sake of
appearances. There is no other non-religious custom peculiar to the
Chinese which is so utterly opposed to the natural instincts of mankind,
and yet which is at the same time so dear to the Chinese, and which would
be given up with more reluctance.

It is well known that the greatest emperor who ever sat upon the throne of
China dared not risk his authority in an attempt to put down this custom,
although his father had successfully imposed upon the Chinese race the
wearing of the queue as a badge of subjection. A quarter of a millennium
of Tartar rule seems to have done absolutely nothing toward modifying the
practice of foot-binding in favour of the more rational one of the
governing race, except to a limited extent in the capital itself. But a
few _li_ away from Peking, the old habits hold their iron sway. The only
impulse toward reform of this useless and cruel custom originated with
foreigners in China, and was long in making itself felt, which it is now,
especially in the central part of the empire, beginning to be.

The observations which may be made with regard to the industry of Chinese
boys, are equally applicable--_mutatis mutandis_--to Chinese girls. In all
lands and in all climes, "woman's work is never done," and this is most
especially true of China, where machinery has not yet expelled the
primitive processes of what is literally manufacture, or work by the hand.
The care of silk-worms, and the picking, spinning, and weaving of cotton,
are largely the labour of women, to which the girls are introduced at a
very early age. The sewing for a Chinese family is a serious matter,
especially as the number of families who can afford to hire help in this
line is a very trifling proportion. But aside from this employment, in
which a Chinese girl who expects to be acceptable to the family of her
mother-in-law must be expert, girls can also be made useful in almost any
line of home work to which the father may be devoted. In the country
districts all over the empire, boys and girls alike are sent out to
scratch together as much fuel as possible, for the preparation of the
food, and this continues in the case of the girls until they are too large
to go to any distance from home. It is not an unmeaning appellation, which
is given to girls generally, that of _ya-t'ou_, or "slave-girl," used just
as we should say "daughter." To a foreigner, this sounds much like the
term "nigger" applied to black men, but to the Chinese there is a fitness
in the designation, which they refuse to surrender.

With the exception of such limited raids as she may have been able to make
in early childhood, and occasional visits to relatives, most Chinese girls
never go anywhere to speak of, and live what is literally the existence of
a frog in a well.[2] Tens of thousands of them have never been two miles
away from the village in which they happened to be born, with the
occasional exception of the visit to the mother's family just mentioned,
where they are not improbably regarded as terrible beings who cannot be
exterminated, but who are to be as much as possible repressed. If the
nieces on the mother's side are numerous, as is often the case, there is
some reason for dread of the visits, on the part of the bread-winners, for
no Chinese mother can be dissociated from her flock of children, whose
appetites are invariably several horse-power strong, and who, like
their elders, are all excessively fond of enjoying the pleasure of eating
at some one else's expense.

[Illustration: WOMEN PREPARING FOOD.]

[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO THE FEAST.]

It is when the married daughters of a large family have all returned to
their parents to spend a few days or weeks, that the most dramatic scenes
of childhood occur. Self-control and unselfishness have not been a feature
in the culture of any one of the numerous cousins thus brought together in
a cluster which frequently resembles those on the inside of a beehive.
Each of the young generation has the keenest instinct for getting as much
of the best of what is to be had as any one else, and if possible more.
This leads to occasional "scenes of confusion, and creature complaints,"
in which each small participant publishes his or her version of the
particular squabble in piercing tones, which soon summon the whole
establishment to the scene of action. Judicious parents would punish the
children all round for their complicity in such a quarrel, which is most
often based upon alleged or supposed inequalities in distribution of food.
But Chinese parents are seldom judicious, and the most that can be
expected is that the mother will call off her child or children, and
"yell" it, or them. "Yelling" a person is the act of proclaiming in a loud
and piercing voice the disapprobation on the part of the "yeller" of the
conduct of the "yellee," often accompanied by reviling language, and
frequently also with promises to "beat" and "kill" the said "yellee" in
the event of further provocation. These remarks are interpreted by the
"yellee" as a hint to stop, a feat which is at length accomplished after a
period of more or less spasmodic and convulsive recrimination.

But if, as often happens, each of the mothers feels called upon from a
high sense of duty to take a firm stand for the rights of her offspring,
the case becomes much more serious. Each of the mothers will then scream
simultaneously, to the accompaniment of the wails, yells, and reviling of
the whole half-dozen or more of her posterity, while above the general
clamour may be distinctly caught the shrill shrieks of the grandmother,
whose views, whatever difficulty they may have in getting themselves
heard, must eventually prevail when peace once more reigns in the domestic
teapot. After one of these family cyclones, the atmosphere gradually
becomes cleared again, and things go on as before; but we have known a
particularly spirited married daughter, who exhibited her dissatisfaction
with the terms of settlement of a dispute of this sort by refusing to
speak to her sisters for some days together.

With the humdrum routine of her life at home, the occasional visits to
relatives, and now and then a large fair or a theatrical exhibition, the
Chinese girl grows to be what we should call a "young schoolgirl," by
which time all her friends begin to be very uneasy about her. This
uneasiness, we need scarcely remark, has not the smallest connection with
her intellectual nature, which, so far as any culture which it receives is
concerned, might as well be non-existent. Unless her father happens to be
a schoolmaster, and at home with nothing to do, he never thinks of
teaching his daughter to read. Even in the case of boys, this would be
exceptional and irregular, but in the case of girls it is felt to be
preposterous. And why? asks the incredulous foreigner. It will take the
average Chinese a long time to explain the nature of his objection, and
when he does so he will not have stated the whole of the case, nor have
gone to the root of the matter. The real difficulty is that to educate a
girl is like weeding the field of some other man. It is like putting a
gold chain around the neck of some one else's puppy, which may at any
moment be whistled off, and then what will have become of the chain? It is
a proverbially mean man in China, who, when marrying his daughter, wants
to be paid for the food he has wasted upon her up to the date of marriage.
But the expression illustrates clearly one of the underlying assumptions
of Chinese society, that it is the body of the girl for which the parents
are responsible, and not the mind. To almost any Chinese it would probably
appear a self-evident proposition that to spend time, strength, and much
more money in educating the daughter-in-law of some one else is a sheer
waste. But, you say to him, she is your daughter. "Not after she is
married," he replies; "she is theirs, let them educate her themselves if
they want her educated." "Why should I teach her how to read, write and
reckon, when it will never do me any good?" With which utilitarian
inquiry, the education of most Chinese girls has been banished from human
thought for the space of some millenniums.

The anxiety which all her friends begin to feel about a Chinese girl, as
soon as she attains any considerable size, is exhibited in the inquiries
which are made about her whenever she happens to be spoken of. These
inquiries do not concern her character or her domestic accomplishments,
much less her intellectual capacity--of which she has, theoretically, none
to speak of--but they may all be summed up in the single phrase, "Is she
said?" meaning by the term "said" "betrothed." If the reply should be in
the negative, the intelligence is received in much the same way as we
should receive the information that a foreign child had been allowed to
grow to the age of sixteen without having been taught anything whatever
out of books. "Why?" we should say, "what is the explanation age of this
strange neglect?" The instinctive feeling of a Chinese in regard to a girl
is that she should be betrothed as soon as possible. This is one of the
many points in regard to which it is almost impossible for the Chinese and
the Anglo-Saxon to come to terms. To the latter the betrothal of a mere
child, scarcely in her teens, is a piece of absolute barbarity.

As soon as a Chinese girl is once betrothed, she is placed in different
relations to the universe generally. She is no longer allowed such freedom
as hitherto, although that may have been little enough. She cannot go
anywhere, because it would be "inconvenient." She might be seen by some
member of the family into which she is to marry, than which it is hardly
possible to think of anything more horrible. "Why?" the irrepressible
Occidental inquires; and is quenched by the information that "it would not
be proper."

The imminent risk that the girl might in some unguarded moment be actually
_seen_ by the family of the future mother-in-law is a reason why so few
engagements for girls are made in the town in which the girl lives, an
arrangement which would seem to be for the convenience of all parties in a
great variety of ways. It would put a stop to the constant deceptions
practiced by the middle-women, or professional match-makers, whose only
object is to carry through whatever match has been proposed, in order to
reap the percentage which will accrue to the agent. It would do away with
the waste of time and money involved in transporting brides from one of
their homes to the other, often at great inconvenience and loss. It would
make the interchange of little courtesies between the families easy and
frequent. But for all these advantages the Chinese do not seem to care,
and the most frequent explanation of the neglect of them is that there
would be the risk already mentioned. When these two families are such as
would in the ordinary course of events be likely to meet, nothing is more
amusing to a foreigner than to watch the struggles which are made to avert
such a catastrophe. One is reminded of some of our childhood's games, in
which one party is "poison" and the other party is liable to be "poisoned"
and must at all hazards keep out of the way. The only difference between
the cases is that in the Chinese game, _each party_ is afraid of being
"poisoned," and will struggle to prevent it. There is one set of
circumstances, however, in which, despite their utmost efforts, Fate is
too much both for the poisoners and the poisoned. If during the betrothal
a death of an older person takes place in the family of the mother-in-law,
it is generally thought necessary that the girl (who is considered as
already "belonging" to that family) should be present and should perform
the same reverence to the coffin of the deceased as if she had been
already married. She is (theoretically) their daughter; why should she
not come and lament like the rest?[3] If it is possible to arrange it,
however, the marriage will be hastened, in the event of a death of a
person belonging to an older generation, even if a later date had been
previously set.

To a foreigner, the Chinese habit of early engagements appears to have no
single redeeming feature. It hampers both families with no apparent
corresponding advantages, if indeed there are advantages of any kind. It
assumes, what is far from certain, and often not at all likely, that the
relative position of the two families will continue to be the same. This
assumption is contradicted by universal experience. Time and change happen
to all, and the insecurity of human affairs is nowhere more manifest than
in the tenure of Chinese property. Families are going up and coming down
all the time. It is a well-settled principle in China that matches should
be between those who are in the same general circumstances. Disregard of
this rule is sure to bring trouble. But if early betrothals are the
practice, the chances of material alteration in the condition of each of
the families are greatly increased. When he is engaged, the character of
the boy, upon which so much of a bride's happiness is to depend, has not
perhaps been formed. Even if it has been formed, it is generally next to
impossible for the girl's family to learn anything authentic as to what
the character is, though to all appearance it would be so easy for them to
ascertain by latent methods. But as a rule, it would appear that they do
not concern themselves much about the matter after the engagement is
proposed and accepted, and at no time do they give it a hundredth part of
the investigation which it seems to us to warrant. If the boy becomes a
gambler, a profligate, or dissipated in any other way, there is no
retreat for the family of the girl, no matter to what extremities they may
be driven. Chinese violation of the most ordinary rules of prudence and
common sense in the matter of the betrothal of their daughters is, to a
Westerner, previous to experience and observation, almost incredible.

A Chinese marriage engagement begins when the red cards have been
interchanged, ratifying the agreement. These are in some districts
formidable documents, almost as large as a crib-blanket, and are very
important as evidence in case of future trouble. It is very rare to hear
of the breaking of a marriage engagement in China, though such instances
do doubtless occur. In a case of this sort the card of the boy's family
had been delivered to the other family, at which point the transaction is
considered to be definitely closed. But an uncle of the betrothed girl,
although younger than the father of the girl, created a disturbance and
refused to allow the engagement to stand. This made the matter very
serious, but as the younger brother was inflexible, there was no help for
it but to send the red acceptance card back by the middleman who brought
it. This also was a delicate matter, but a Chinese is seldom at a loss for
expedients when a disagreeable thing must be done. He selected a time when
all the male members of the boy's family were in the wheatfield, and then
threw the card declining the match into the yard of the family of the boy,
and went his way. None of the women of the family could read, and it was
not until the men returned that it was discovered what the document was.
The result was a lawsuit of portentous proportions, in which an accusation
was brought against both the father of the girl and against the middleman.
This case was finally adjusted by a money payment.

The delivery of the red cards is, as we have remarked, the beginning of
the engagement, the culmination being the arrival of the bride in her
chair at the home of her husband. The date of this event is generally
dependent upon the pleasure of the boy's family. Whatever accessories the
wedding may have, the arrival of the bride is the _de facto_ completion
of the contract. This becomes evident in the case of second marriages,
where there is often, and even proverbially, no ceremony of any sort which
must be observed. The Chinese imperial calendar designates the days which
are the most felicitous for weddings, and it constantly happens that on
these particular days there will be what the Chinese term "red
festivities" in almost every village. This is one of the many instances in
which Chinese superstitions are financially expensive. On "lucky days" the
hire of sedan-chairs rises with the great demand, while those who
disregard luck are able to get better service at a lower price. There is a
tradition of a winter in the early part of this century when on a
"fortunate day" many brides were being carried to their new homes during
the progress of a tremendous snowstorm which blinded the bearers and
obliterated the roads. Some of the brides were frozen to death, and many
were taken to the wrong places. On the other hand in a blistering summer,
cases have been known where the bride was found to be dead when the chair
was deposited at the husband's home. The same bridal sedan-chair may be
used many times. In regions where it is the custom to have all weddings in
the forenoon, second marriages are put off until the afternoon, or even
postponed until the evening, marking their minor importance.

That the only _essential_ feature of a Chinese wedding is the delivery of
the bride at her husband's home, is strikingly shown in those not very
uncommon instances in which a Chinese is married without himself being
present at all. It is usually considered a very ill omen to change the
date set for a wedding, especially to postpone it. Yet it sometimes
happens that the young man is at a distance from home, and fails to return
in time. Or the bridegroom may be a scholar, and find that the date of an
important examination coincides with the day set for his wedding. In such
a case he will probably choose "business before pleasure" and the bride
will be "taken delivery of" by older members of his family, without
disturbing his own literary ambitions.

Of the details of Chinese weddings we do not intend to speak. There are
wide variations of usage in almost all particulars, though the general
plan is doubtless much the same. The variations appertain, not to the
ceremonies of the wedding alone, but to all the proceedings from beginning
to end. It is supposed that the explanation of the singular and sometimes
apparently unaccountable variation in these and other usages, found all
over China, may be due to the persistent survival of customs which have
been handed down from the time of the Divided Kingdoms. But very
considerable differences in usage are to be met with in regions not far