A Nanking lady was sad, very sad. Her husband had left her for business far away, and had sent home only a few letters. Many times did she send word by his friends requesting him to return, but he did not come. At last, in despair, she called in a fortune-teller, who was supposed to be endowed with supernatural knowledge of everything past, present, and future. After consulting his books, the fortune-teller's face assumed a thoughtful and anxious expression. In trembling accents he addressed the sad wife thus: "O lady, your husband has changed his sphere of business many, many times. Ill-luck has pursued him everywhere. Money he has now none; but, what is worse, he is lying dangerously ill in a lonely inn, hundreds of miles from here." The wretched lady was heartbroken, and began to weep copiously. The fortune-teller comforted her, and rapidly turning over the leaves of his mystic book, he joyously exclaimed, "Saved!" Then he explained that a certain lucky star was obscured by a dark cloud; and that if it could be made to shine again, her husband would rise from his bed of sickness, and make a great deal of money. About two shillings was the sum charged for working the miracle of dispelling the dark cloud. While the fortune-teller was on his knees, earnestly praying his god to deliver the absent husband from the clutches of the evil one, who was obscuring the lucky star, the door was abruptly pushed open, and there, standing on the threshold with a bag over his shoulder, full of shoes of silver and gold bars, was the long-absent husband. The wife gave a cry of joy and rushed forward. The confused fortune-teller, terribly frightened, hurriedly sought an exit by the back door, but slipped, fell, sprained his ankle, and broke his head. The husband did not wish to mar the joy of his return by any harsh measures, and let off the now thoroughly wretched fortune-teller with a reprimand.
Births, marriages, and deaths follow each other in all our newspapers. I will not say more about births than that the Chinese are all born with a round black mark about the size of a penny at the base of the spine. It disappears generally before they reach eight years old.
As to deaths, all the money that is left from weddings may be said to be spent upon funerals, which are the grand moment of a Chinaman's life. Then Taoist priests are called in to officiate; for whilst every one belongs to the three religions in China, each religion especially takes certain parts of life for its care. The best sites are reserved for graves; the best wood is used for coffins; the merriest music to our ears is that heard at funerals. But of all funerals of which I have heard, I think this one is the most amusing. A woman about fifty years old, fearing that her son, a worthless spendthrift, would not accord her a grand funeral after her death, hit upon the plan of enjoying one before that event. She fixed a day, notified her friends and relations to come dressed in mourning, hired many priests and monks and all the paraphernalia usual at funerals, including a splendid coffin and a green baize sedan-chair. Amidst much weeping and praying she was carried all about the city in the sedan-chair, followed by the coffin and surrounded by mourners. Can any one living, ever before or since, have been so perfectly happy? For, as a rule, attaining the highest earthly bliss, we fear its loss or diminution; but this woman had nothing to fear. She had had her funeral.
CHAPTER X.
CHINESE MORALS.
How Chinese look upon Shanghai.—A Viceroy's Expedient.—Method of raising Subscriptions.—Deserving Deities.—Trustworthiness.—Hunan-Hero.—Marrying English Girls.
Missionaries generally say that the Chinese are frightfully immoral. So do the Americans and Australians, excluding them as far as they can from their respective countries. But, brought up on the English saying that "Hypocrisy is the compliment vice pays to virtue," I always think virtue must be in the ascendant in China for vice so to slink into corners and hide its head before it. There certainly is not the slightest outward appearance of vice in Chinese cities. And I have always understood that everywhere, except in the foreign settlements, where it is certainly not the case, very decided repressive measures are used. Shanghai, once the Model Settlement, is looked upon as a hotbed of corruption by Chinese fathers up-country, who say gravely they would not dare to send their sons there, whatever business advantages are offered, until their principles are quite firmly established. Up-country it is European morals that Chinese find as shocking as Australians find theirs. It is impossible for me to enter into details here; but there are certain things, alas! too customary among Europeans, which to every Chinaman are an abomination. It is well to bear this in mind, perhaps; and it is to be hoped that increased intercourse may lead Europeans to think disgraceful what Chinese already think so, and Chinese to be bound by the European code where, if anywhere, it is higher than their own, rather than, as so often occurs, to lead each nation to accept the other's lower ideas.
As new suggestions however, are always more interesting than trite generalisms, I must mention the peculiar measure devised in 1891 by his Excellency the Viceroy at Nanking to keep up the standard of morality among his writers and the higher class of employés. Shortly before, one of the composers of memorials had taken to leading a fast life, frequenting places not over-respectable. One day he leaned out of a wine-shop, and saw two men, dressed in black, standing quietly by his horse. He took no notice of the matter, but kept on drinking. When he left the place and walked up to his horse, the two strangers retired a pace or two. Climbing into the saddle, he rode slowly along, cooling himself in the evening breeze. He soon heard footsteps, and perceived the men were following him. His heated brain imagined fearful consequences. The mysterious personages might be bandits or secret society men bent on assassination or plunder. He whipped up his horse, and made for his official quarters in the residence; but his pursuers were fleet of foot, and kept up with his not very fast pony. On reaching the Viceregal residence, the writer called upon the guards to arrest the two bold men, who came up breathless. But the guards did not move to obey his orders, and the mysterious beings stepped up, saluted, and said, "Sir, do not feel angry or apprehensive. We are members of the Secret Police of his Excellency the Viceroy. We have received instructions, to follow any and all the officials and gentlemen connected with the office, and report to our master where they go, their actions, behaviour, and conduct." Then they turned, mingled with the crowd, and disappeared. Next day the writer's pony was reported to be for sale, and since that memorable evening he has not revisited his former haunts. Possibly this method might be adopted with advantage by any high official in England, who was as solicitous about the conduct of his subordinates as this Chinese Viceroy.
Probably no one knows better than Li Hung-chang how to get hold of other people's money. Here is an idea of his for collecting contributions to a Famine Relief Fund. He furnishes a long list of subscriptions, mostly of £150 each, from officials whose generosity was due to the promptings of their parents or other relatives now deceased. Each donor had been granted permission to erect an archway (pai fang) to the memory of the person, who first inspired him with the idea of contributing to the relief of suffering humanity. Among those to whom this honour was accorded were the President and members of the Chinese club at Yokohama, whose joint contributions amounted to £300.
The west of China is exceptionally decorated with these memorial arches, generally erected to the memory of chaste widows and incorruptible officials, who, to judge by the arches, seem more numerous than one would otherwise have thought. I remember the interest with which we approached one in course of construction. It was a very hot day, and this pai fang was being erected on a slight eminence, where the people told us no rain had fallen for forty years, although thunder-showers refreshed the country all round it. We ate our luncheon under its shadow, and observed that it was one of Li Hung-chang's arches, erected to the memory of a dead man, the inspirer to an act of charity towards the famine-stricken. The Chinese are a people altogether guided and animated by memories. In the same year the Governor of Honan submitted a petition from the gentry and inhabitants of the town of Wensiang, in which they prayed for permission to erect a memorial temple to the late intendant of their circuit. This town, it seems, borders upon the Yellow River, from the ravages of which it had suffered terribly for a long succession of years. Two years before a movement was started by the local magistrate and the people for building a breakwater to serve as a barrier against the floods. "The Taotai, in whose jurisdiction the place was situated, took an active interest in the enterprise, and even went frequently in person to superintend the progress of the work. The great difficulty experienced was the want of sufficiently large stones. Greatly to the astonishment of the whole community, a heavy storm of wind and rain deluged the country, and brought down an endless quantity of huge stones exactly suited to the purpose. The people naturally regarded the strange occurrence as a direct manifestation of divine power in aid of a great public undertaking, which they and their forefathers had been unable to complete during several centuries. The Taotai fell a victim to fatigue and over-exertion, and his death was deeply bewailed by the whole district. The Governor, in supporting the petition, mentioned a fact which proves the supernatural origin of the phenomenon. One of the stones, which was as large as a house, and shaped like a tortoise, was inscribed with seal characters, only two of which, denoting 'work' and 'stone' respectively, could be made out. The breakwater was completed, and the safety of the district secured. As a token of their gratitude for the services of the Taotai, the petitioners begged that they might be permitted to erect a temple to his memory, at which the usual sacrifices should be offered.—Granted by Rescript."