Part 12
Upstairs the women of the family held court. As guests arrived they were conducted at once to the bridal chamber, a large bright room, decked out with the furniture and bric-a-brac sent over the day before from the bride’s home. The bed was the most striking object, for the white silken curtains were carefully hung, though almost hidden under a glittering assortment of quaint and rare ornaments in wrought silver, nearly all of them possessing some symbolical meaning. The carved teakwood table covered with a heavy white satin spread embroidered in peach blossoms, stood in the centre of the room. So many gifts had been sent by friends to swell the marriage dowry, that the bridal chamber and room back of it could scarcely contain them all. Frequently next to an exquisite bit of ivory or jade would repose a cheap glass vase or china matchbox that looked as if it might have come from a ten-cent store in America. In an adjoining apartment stood a table set in foreign style. The table-cloth was a strip of coarse cotton sheeting, and on it were placed fancy china dishes heaped with all manner of cakes, fruit, and confections. Even such accessories as knives and forks, and tiny napkins embroidered around the edge in deep blue were not lacking. In the centre was a spreading floral piece of remarkable design. To beguile the time while waiting for the coming of the bride, guests were invited to partake of the refreshments, which they did freely.
The hours passed slowly by. One o’clock had been named in the invitations as the time of the wedding, but three struck and no bride. Four o’clock rolled around and still no signs of her. Indeed, not a Chinese guest expected her, for had the bride made her appearance promptly, she would have been committing a shocking and unpardonable breach of etiquette. Several times, according to custom, the bridegroom had sent his messengers to bring her, but without avail. The bridegroom must go himself. At last, late in the afternoon, the word passed around, amid a wild flurry of excitement, that he was about to set out. He left in a closed carriage drawn by a span of horses with coachman and footman. His two little sisters, flower-girls, in white foreign dresses, pink sashes and hair ribbons, followed in another carriage. The foreign band went too, on foot, while the Chinese musicians exerted themselves with commendable energy to keep up the flagging spirits of the waiting guests.
The minutes dragged heavily till an hour had gone by. During the interval there were occasional breaks in the monotony. Coolies hurried in with belated wedding gifts, women servants of the bride arrived bearing additional jewel cases, and finally three men walked in, importantly. Two wore Chinese dress, the third one foreign clothes of the best modern cut. It was whispered around that he had come all the way from Peking to act as chief functionary at the ceremony. Presently the bridegroom’s carriage rolled into the compound. The excitement then rose to a tremendous pitch and every one who was not already crowding forward rushed to the entrance and the front verandas. Soon the glad shout arose on every side: “The bride is coming! The bride is coming!” First in through the gateway marched the Filipinos playing a stirring air. Close behind was the carriage of the flower girls, and then came the bride, riding alone. Her carriage on top had the appearance of a flower garden with its elaborate rainbow-coloured trimmings. The horses’ harness too was gaily decorated. But the poor animals were badly frightened when a match was set to the firecrackers and boom after boom rent the air. They reared and pranced, and though a footman held tightly to each bridle, it seemed for a moment or two as if the carriage with its precious burden would not succeed in getting safely inside the gate. By this time the policemen had abandoned all effort to control the street mob, and they poured into the compound, a gaping throng, in strange contrast to their brilliant surroundings.
The little flower girls, carrying beautiful floral baskets, had tripped lightly to the ground, when an intimate woman friend of the bride’s family stepped forward to open the coach door for the bride. Not a glimpse had been had of her, for the blinds were closely drawn. Very slowly she dismounted as custom required, but had the poor child wished ever so much to hurry, she would have been too seriously hampered by her attire to do so. Delicate satin slippers encased her small though unbound feet. Her gown was of old rose satin, stiff with embroidery. Over her little shapely hands were drawn loose-fitting cotton gloves. Necklaces without number, of extraordinary design, nearly hid the waist of her dress in front, while quantities of gold and jade bracelets encircled her slender wrists. But the most amazing creation of all was the bride’s headgear. It was the time-honoured helmet, worn for centuries back in these parts by Chinese brides, but seldom seen nowadays in Shanghai. Studded with brilliants and coloured glass, and encircled with strings of bangles that fell around and almost concealed the girl’s face, the weight must have been enough to bow down, without any effort to appear modest, the head that had to sustain it. But, O, ye shades of a stereotyped past, what is this grand climax to the bride’s dress which now rivets the attention of the astonished beholder! Can it be? yes, it certainly is--a modern wedding veil of white net, gathered above the helmet in a tuft-like bunch and falling around the bride to her feet in billowy folds! The towering crown wavered uncertainly, as, guided by her chaperon, the girl moved deliberately toward the house.
Just inside the door she was joined by the groom in a well fitting Tuxedo, but looking about as ill at ease as a man can. Keeping a good elbow’s distance apart, the bridal couple, followed, not preceded, by the flower girls and after them the groom’s relatives, walked across the court and on into the reception hall, where a girl was vigorously pounding out Mendelssohn’s Wedding March on a clanging piano. They stopped a few feet in front of an oblong table behind which stood the three men who had preceded the groom to the house. The bride and groom bowed low to each of the three dignitaries, beginning with the one in the centre, who was the little man in foreign clothes. This gentleman picked up a document written over with Chinese characters, and holding it in his two hands, read from it in a loud voice. After that he handed a ring to the groom, who placed it on the third finger of the left hand of the bride, over her cotton glove. This act was accompanied by formal bows from one party to the other. The bride then received a ring from her chaperon and timidly slipped it on the left hand little finger of the groom. More bowing ensued. At this juncture some little girls came forward, and facing the bride and groom, sang very sweetly, in English, “Jesus Bids us Shine,” a feature of the ceremony introduced by a Chinese Christian friend with the consent of the non-Christian families. At the conclusion of this number, bowing became the order of the programme. It took the place of the friendly congratulations offered to bridal couples in the West The bride and groom first saluted each other, then the gentlemen who officiated, afterward the parents of the groom, kneeling before them with their heads to the floor, in token of filial respect, and lastly the brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, and friends generally. Each group was saluted three times, and bowed three times in return. Those older and higher in rank stood above the couple, but in the case of children the order was reversed. The last to be greeted was an aunt of the bride, the only member of her household that custom allowed to be present. This ceremony was very formal and occupied considerable time. While it lasted the chaperon was kept busy, since it was her duty to turn the bride around, and push her head forward at the proper time to bow.
When all was at last over, strains from Mendelssohn were again struck up, the bride attempted to slip her hand in her husband’s arm, which in his embarrassment he allowed to hang limply by his side, and surrounded by a chattering, pushing crowd, the bridal pair ascended the uncarpeted stairs, soiled with the dust from many feet, and found their way to the bridal chamber. As the newly married always do, they sat for several minutes together on the edge of the bed, then the bridegroom made his escape to the rooms below, where, constraint cast aside, he entered heartily into the enjoyment of the hour. But no such good fortune awaited the bride. Her ordeal had just begun. She rose to her feet while her girl friends pressed close about her for the usual bantering. “Aren’t you stupid!” “What a hideous gown!” “How ridiculously you behave!” “Whoever saw such an ugly bride!” During this tirade not a muscle of the bride’s face quivered, and the lowered eyes were never once raised. But perspiration stood in beads on her forehead and the soft round cheeks were flushed and feverish, for the thoughtless, teasing crowd shut out the air, and besides, not a morsel of food or a drop of liquid had passed her lips that day.
Seven o’clock brought a respite, for at that hour the wedding feast was declared ready, and the bride escorted by her chaperon returned to the reception hall where the tables were spread. One table was reserved especially for her, and there she was placed in solitary state facing the entire roomful of guests. Not so the groom, who occupied a side table in the midst of a group of friends. The bride’s wedding veil had been removed, but the helmet remained, having assumed meanwhile a somewhat tipsy air, as if the head underneath was too weary to hold it steady or in the merry-making it had been jarred out of its equilibrium. But no hand offered to adjust it, and least of all could the girl herself do so. She sat immovable, her eyes downcast, her face as impassive as a Buddha’s. Dish after dish of tempting Chinese food was put before her, to be taken away untouched. While others all over the room were eating and chattering happily, she continued mute and alone. A break came when the wine was served. Lifting one of the little silver wine cups in both hands the groom passed it to the chief guest, who received it in his two hands, and after taking a sip returned the cup to the groom. He presented it likewise to each of the principal guests, and last of all to his bride amid an outburst of merriment from the interested spectators. It was then the bride’s turn. Whatever may have been her inner feelings, she betrayed no sign of emotion as she stepped calmly from one to another with the cup and ended by placing it in the hands of the groom, while the guests cheered and laughed uproariously.
With this ceremony the feast broke up but not the wedding festivities. They continued unabated till early morning. During the evening, four of the bride’s brothers came in, but they did not seek her out. The men, including the groom, stayed below to carouse and gamble. Upstairs the young friends of the bride gathered around her once more and prepared for a wild frolic. First, according to custom, they demanded a gift, whereupon one of her woman servants distributed boxes of Chinese confections among them, prepared for this purpose. After that she was put through a series of ridiculous performances for the amusement of her persecutors, such as crawling, hopping, skipping, crowing. When at last dawn streaked the sky and the house lights went out with the departing guests, is it a wonder that the exhausted little bride of eighteen sank down on the nearest couch and cried herself to sleep?
XII
FOREIGN PHILANTHROPIES
A bishop visiting in Shanghai said he should sometime like to write a book on the “cries” of China. It would make interesting reading. The cries are many and diverse. Most coolies, for example, whether on land or water, work to the accompaniment of a rhythmical chant, and though the poor fellows, carrying heavy burdens, fairly gasp in their effort to continue the vocal exercise while under the strain of physical exertion, they seem unable to proceed without it.
In the early days, when foreigners first settled in Shanghai, it is related that house servants, as they carried food to and from the table, indulged in the usual monotonous sing-song till the distracted diners peremptorily put a stop to the habit.
But of all the cries known to China, the most pitiful is the cry of the children, the sharp insistent wail of suffering childhood that ascends night and day all over this great land. Had Mrs. Browning visited the Far East she would surely have been impelled to pen another noble poem on the “Cry of the Children” whose pathos would have pierced the heart of the world. Many people believe slavery in China is a thing of the past, as a multitude imagine foot-binding is no longer practised. It is true that edicts from time to time have gone forth abolishing slavery, but they have not been enforced and old customs die hard. The most that can be said is that this hydra-headed monster no longer stalks abroad as openly and unchallenged as formerly, though that the evil exists no one who knows conditions can for a moment deny.
Out from the centre of the noisy city, where the fields are green and the air pure and fresh, stands a substantial red brick building. The presiding genius is a sweet-faced, motherly woman in the garb of a Protestant Episcopal deaconess. “Is this the Slave Girls’ Refuge?” asks the visitor. “It is the Children’s Refuge.” Then, with a deprecatory smile, “We are leaving the word ‘slave’ out now because we want to do all we can to help the children forget their sad past.” The house is plain, not a dollar wasted on ornamentation, and filled to overflowing. Built to accommodate seventy-five, last year a hundred and fifty-six were crowded into it. Little cots line the upper verandas, and the superintendent’s bedroom is turned into a day nursery for the smallest tots. “You surely ought to have one spot you could call your very own,” exclaims the half indignant visitor. “I should find it restful and pleasant, but with my big family I can’t manage it,” and the ever ready smile again illumines the kind face.
This work, which is undenominational, was started by a band of Christian women after the upheaval of 1900, although the present building was not occupied till ten years later. Now, in so short a time, it has been outgrown, and the need for an addition is imperative. The children range in age from three to twenty, for some have been in the Home a long time and developed into useful assistants. Most of the little ones are rescued by the police, who take them to the Municipal Mixed Court, and from there they are turned over to the Refuge. And what eventually becomes of these waifs? A few are returned to parents from whom they have been stolen, others are adopted by families or mission schools, while a large number die, too weakened because of ill treatment to resist disease. Occasionally there is a simple wedding at the Refuge and a girl goes out from it to a home of her own. Shanghai is a great slave market. Children are sent and brought here from all over China, kidnappers having a large hand in the shameful trade. Parents frequently sell their own offspring, for there are many mouths to feed and rice is often very, very scarce. Only girls are slaves. They become the property, body, mind, and soul, of their owners, who may do with them as they like. Their pitiful little life stories are almost too harrowing to repeat. A baby of five had its flesh pinched with red-hot irons, another of six was tied to a post for days without food, having had hot needles run under her nails. One was three times buried alive. A mite three years old, nearly dead from neglect and starvation, weighed only ten pounds when brought to the Refuge. A doctor counted on the body of a bleeding child two hundred and forty cuts, burns, and bruises. One was brought in with an arm twisted out of shape and an eyelid nearly torn away. A little slave, after repeated beatings that almost crushed the life out of her, was thrown by her mistress on an ash-heap to die. When rescued and sent to the Refuge her mind seemed clouded. She took scarcely any notice of her surroundings, but if any one approached her the poor child shrieked in terror. “You are going to kill me! I know you are going to kill me!” “A few weeks later,” said the superintendent, tears filling her eyes as she told the story, “the little thing was following me around everywhere, repeating softly to herself, ‘Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me.’” How the superintendent with her great warm heart mothers her flock! The more marred, feeble, and wretched they are the more her love surrounds them. And it is most wonderful how these little bruised, neglected plants, blossom out under her tender care. Until recently she was the only foreigner in charge of the work. While so many others flit away in the fierce heat of summer for a breath of cool air, this faithful worker remains, season after season, at her post. “I can not leave the children,” she will urge. But she asks no one’s commiseration, for a happier heart is not to be found in China.
There is a shelter called “The Home for Waifs and Strays” at quite the opposite side of Shanghai. It gathers in a somewhat different class of children, not many slaves, but outcasts, down to new-born infants picked up on the street by the police. Many of the children are mentally deficient and some suffer from incurable diseases. A devoted Christian woman is at the head of the Home, which receives its support from the Municipal Council, by whom the work was inaugurated several years ago.
A new building has just been completed close to the Children’s Refuge, which so long stood entirely alone in the midst of cultivated fields. It is the home of the School for Blind Boys. No charity is more appealing in a country where diseased eyes, leading to partial or total blindness, are so fearfully common. The school opened its doors only three years ago in a rented house, yet the mental development of the boys has been most remarkable. There is certain to arise soon an insistent demand for blind teachers for the blind, and the purpose of the school is to give their boys a general education which will qualify them for that work. It also has a growing industrial department, and the Blind School, like the Children’s Refuge, is in part supported by the sale of its products. The plan is later to establish on the same site a similar school for girls.
One of the best known institutions in Shanghai is the Door of Hope. As the name implies it is intended to succor girls bound by a slavery the most cruel of all. No other city in the country contains as many brothels as Shanghai. It is often called the Sodom of China, and is known to many of the native Christians away from the coast only as the Far Country of the Prodigal Son. Sadly enough, the presence of degenerate foreigners is largely responsible for the sin laid at the gates of the gay metropolis.
It is safe to say that the majority of Chinese girls found in houses of ill-fame are there through no fault of their own. Kidnappers dispose in this way of many of the children they have stolen. Often parents, particularly in famine times, sell their little daughters, choosing in their ignorance such a fate for them rather than to see them die of starvation.
The “Receiving Home” is in an alley-way just off Nanking Road, which is the Piccadilly of Shanghai. Several years ago a few philanthropic and influential Chinese gentlemen succeeded in securing from the International Municipality the passage of a law whereby a notice was placed in each brothel telling of the Receiving Home and how to reach it. Another law was passed at the same time prohibiting brothels from accepting girls under fourteen. Both of these statutes have gradually been allowed to become dead letters, and little or no attention is now paid to them. A rescued girl stays in the Receiving Home only over night, or until her case is brought up in the Mixed Court and she is committed to the Door of Hope. This building is in the outskirts of the city, far removed from the crowded, dangerous district with which the girls have grown too familiar. For obvious reasons, although all are under the same roof, it has been found wise to separate the first-year girls from those of the second year. This charity is supported by grants from the Municipal Council together with voluntary gifts and the sale of industrial work. The Door of Hope dolls are famed far and wide. The little wooden heads, beautifully carved, are the only parts of the dolls not made by the girls. Shanghai firms gladly donate in abundance bright-coloured scraps of silk, satin, and cotton cloth. The dolls are dressed to represent all grades and classes of society, and a set, consisting of sixteen, is of real value educationally.
The first-year girls spend the morning in study and the afternoon in work. They begin by learning to make their own clothes, cloth shoes and all, then when the tailor’s trade has been thoroughly mastered, they are set to dressing dolls. For this work a slight compensation is given which acts as a spur and encouragement. The second-year girls are busy all day at their embroidery frames with a little schooling in the evening. They receive regular pay and are expected in the main to clothe themselves. The embroidery is exquisitely fine and dainty and there is a constant call for it, both in and out of Shanghai, especially from prospective brides and mothers. In the long, cheerful work-room, lined on both sides with windows, the sixty or more girls of the second year gather each morning at eight o’clock for prayers. Half an hour later, the embroidery frames are laid out on small tables, and materials unrolled to the accompaniment of happy chatter. When all is in readiness to begin, a sudden hush falls on the room, as some one points to the text for the day on a Scripture calendar hanging on the wall. This is repeated in concert, followed by a brief prayer from one of the girls. It is a sweet custom and seems to give just the right start to the day. The calendar is compiled annually by a Chinese woman living in Shanghai.
It is not necessary to ask if the girls are happy. Their bright, contented faces show that. Few are inherently bad. Only once in a long while some one tires of the quiet routine and revolts or runs away. But it is natural that they should crave change and the sight of a face from the outside world is eagerly welcomed. Noticing this, a foreign lady living in the neighbourhood once asked the girls in relays to her home for afternoon tea. The day the first-year girls were present, one of them, pointing to the piano, turned to the missionary in charge with the question, “What is that black box?” It was explained to her that it was a musical instrument, and when later it was played upon, the delight of the girls was unbounded. An American visitor was so touched by the incident that she secured for the Door of Hope the gift of a splendid victrola which, being a thing of beauty, is likewise sure to prove a joy forever.