Part 7

The ricsha is not indigenous to China. It was introduced from Japan as many as fifty years ago and promises to be seen on the streets of Shanghai for some time to come in spite of the increasing popularity of more modern conveyances.

There is a Christian mission for the ricsha coolies. It was started four years ago by a Scotch business man on whose heart had been laid the spiritual needs of this neglected class. At two centres in thickly-populated coolie districts week-day and Sunday meetings are held in rented Chinese houses, besides Sunday-schools and day-schools for the children of the ricsha coolies and a weekly religious meeting for women. A native evangelist visits the men in their homes and in the tea-shops they are wont to frequent, a Bible woman goes among the women, hot rice and beds are given to the really destitute in cold weather, and the sick are sent to the hospital. At the special Christmas services held one year each coolie was presented with a cheap towel, to his great delight. But let it not be imagined that the coolie’s satisfaction was due to the fact that he could now remove a few layers of dirt from his hands and face. That consideration, if it entered his mind at all, was wholly secondary. The chief use of the towel was to wipe the sweat from his brow when running, so that he could see more clearly. The coolies’ incredulous amazement that any one should care for them was most touching. At first when they flocked to the Hall they would say to the evangelist, “Is this for _us_?” and at the close of the meeting, “We never heard anything like it!” There have been a number of very bright conversions among them. The work is supported by voluntary contributions, the coolies themselves, out of their extreme poverty, giving generously. The ambition of some is to raise enough money to build a church! It is a noble purpose but leagues beyond the possibilities of their meagre resources.

Tramcars began running in the International Settlement in Shanghai in 1907. Six years later they were introduced on Chinese territory. No street in the Chinese city being wide enough for a car to pass through it, the intention is to surround the city with a track in place of the old moat, and it will not be long before the circle is complete. The cars are divided into two unequal sections, the larger one for third-class passengers and the smaller for first-class. Some foreigners travel third-class and many Chinese first-class. On one line in the Settlement, owing to the rude treatment accorded them in the third-class compartment by Chinese men, Chinese women are allowed to travel first-class for a third-class fare. Two notices stand out conspicuously in third-class cars. One prohibits spitting and is put up by the Municipal Health Department to guard against tuberculosis. The other warns passengers not to enter or leave while the cars are in motion. The warning is emphasized by a coloured picture of a man who has fallen in jumping off a car and is lying on the ground with the blood flowing from his wounds. Still, every year some Chinese are killed and many more injured in attempting, in their ignorance of physical laws, to imitate what they see foreigners do. Yet accidents do not deter them from using the cars, and during the busy hours of the day they fairly swarm into them. Nearly all the cars carry a trailer, and except for a few seats in front reserved for first-class passengers, that too is crowded with Chinese. Fares are rated according to the distance traveled. Both motorman and conductor are Chinese, and the latter understands just enough English to collect fares. But if a stranger in the city asks in English for general information he will rarely succeed in making himself understood. Railless cars, brought over from England, were introduced on one road in the autumn of 1914, but proved too heavy for the paving and were prohibited after a week or two. The following spring, the road foundation having been strengthened, a second trial of the cars was made, and this time with pronounced success. They soon became very popular. Underground and elevated cars have not yet made their appearance in Shanghai, but the son of one of its most prominent Chinese citizens has been spending some time in Paris learning to fly, so on his return in the near future almost anything may be expected to develop in this progressive corner of the Orient.

Shanghai being one of the greatest shipping ports in the Far East, quantities of merchandise are handled daily. Besides wheelbarrows, and coolies who carry loads suspended by ropes from poles resting on their shoulders, men-drawn carts are constantly in requisition. Coolies take the place of horses and mules as beasts of burden. It is true that the foreign hotels and many foreign firms have their wagons and vans, nowadays they are oftener motor cars, but these vehicles of Western manufacture are far outnumbered by native hand-pulled carts. The carts are of the simplest design, several oblong planks nailed together and set on two wheels. Most of the loads have to be tied on with ropes, and no account is taken of weight. The coolies’ muscle is not spared. Three, four, or more coolies are stationed in front of the cart to pull, with often several at the back to push. Stout ropes fifteen or twenty feet long are fastened by one end to the cart and knotted at the other. Each coolie takes a rope, passes it over his shoulder, changing occasionally for relief from one to the other, and grasps the knot with both hands. If the load is extremely heavy, such as iron rods or building stone, the pullers even on level ground are obliged to stop frequently to rest and recover breath. But it is when crossing the arched bridges over Soochow Creek that the tug of war comes. The forward coolies bend almost double, while those at the rear push with might and main till their faces are congested and it seems as if they must burst every blood-vessel in their bodies. But perhaps the cart does not yield an inch. After a moment’s rest another effort is made. This time the coolies at the back grasp the wheels and at last succeed in turning them ever so little, while slowly, very, very slowly the cart is drawn up the incline. When the highest point of the bridge is reached, unless the road in front is clear, there is another pause. Then the coolies who have been pushing, pull back, assisted by some of the others, while the forward coolies rush ahead in the liveliest manner to keep from being hit by the cart. It impresses foreigners as a cruel way of getting work done and draws painfully on their sympathies, but if a sudden change were made to horse power, the carters would doubtless be the first ones to raise a hue and cry against it.

VII

A PEEP INTO THE SCHOOLROOM

“How many schools for the Chinese, not counting missionary schools, are there in Shanghai?” The question was asked of a Y.M.C.A. secretary, who with others had just completed a canvass of the city with reference to its educational facilities. “It is not possible to tell exactly,” he replied, puckering his brow. “As nearly as we could find out, there are at least five hundred, probably more. Of course that list does not include the schools for girls. Miss Blank can tell you about them.” The Chairman of the Committee on the Investigation of Girls’ Schools was interviewed. She brought out her maps, charts, and reports, and spread them on the table. “It was such a difficult search,” she explained. “We discovered between thirty and forty boarding schools alone, but it is almost certain that does not include all. Some of them were hidden away in the queerest places.” “What a difference in the number of schools for girls compared with those for boys!” exclaimed her visitor. “Oh, well, you must remember we made no effort to tabulate the little day-schools. They seemed to be legion and met us at every turn.” The large majority of the schools enumerated were established after 1900, and very many sprang up at the time of the revolution in 1911, or quickly following it.

From these statistics it might appear that the education of the children of Shanghai was fairly well provided for, but with no compulsory system, thousands that are employed in mills and factories, bound out as apprentices, thrust forth to beg or allowed to loaf, never cross the threshold of a schoolroom.

The Municipality of the International Settlement supports four large public schools for Chinese boys (there are none for girls), the ground in each instance having been donated by philanthropic Chinese, and the native residents in the Settlement, who form the bulk of the population, paying their share of the taxes on the buildings.

One of the handsomest buildings in the French Concession is a public school for Chinese boys.

Private schools, or as they are termed “Gentry Schools,” are very popular with the Chinese. In Shanghai this class far outnumbers all others, and it is moreover an interesting fact that of the schools under government control very many were started by an individual or group of individuals as private enterprises. China is a nation that reverences learning above all else. Not a scrap of paper that has written or printed on it even a single “character” is willingly allowed to be blown about carelessly or trampled under foot. These precious bits, soiled and torn though they may be, are laboriously picked up by men or boys armed with tongs or pin-pointed sticks, who travel to and fro through the streets in search of them. The well-to-do hire proxies to perform this meritorious work. The paper is carried to the public ovens, where it is burned, and the ashes afterward thrown out in the river. The belief is millenniums old that heaven vouchsafes special blessings to those who show due regard for the sacred symbols of knowledge. It follows then quite naturally that to open and maintain a school ranks with the Chinese among the highest forms of service one can render to mankind.

Since Western education has been introduced, many of China’s best young men have dedicated their lives and fortunes to popularizing it. Among the numerous examples that could be cited in Shanghai alone, the Akademio Utopia is one. Four years ago a group of ten zealous young men started a school in a small rented building. They had little capital, but each one agreed to devote twenty per cent of his income to meeting the running expenses. Several who had studied abroad gave also of their time and taught one or more classes. The principal was a graduate of Cornell University and the first Chinese student from that institution to be elected to Phi Beta Kappa. The current expenses were soon met, or nearly so, by the fees of the students, whose number quickly ran up to over a hundred, but when it became necessary to build, the young promoters again put their hands in their pockets, and out of their modest earnings gave most liberally. The principal’s father offered him financial help but in a spirit of manly independence he refused it, preferring to depend on his own and the school’s resources. The fine new building is finished and in use, though plain benches take the place of desks which will be added later, together with other needed furnishings, as the debt is gradually paid off.

In the plebeian district of the Settlement, on a street little frequented by foreigners, is a boarding and day-school attended by five hundred and fifty boys. Unlike the former school, this one started full-fledged the year of the Boxer Rebellion, which witnessed the birth of so many new enterprises. The plant consists of three brick buildings, the middle one surmounted by a stately clock tower, and all connected by covered passageways. The main building is divided from front to back into parallel sections, with open courts between, though joined on the upper story by bridges. In this way good light and air are secured for each of the forty-six rooms. There is a laboratory, a science class-room with seats in amphitheatre style, a library containing both Chinese and English books, a hall dedicated to Confucius whose walls are hung with scrolls inscribed with quotations from the writings of the Sage and where the students gather semi-annually for worship, and finally a reception-room, having as its chief ornament a portrait of the founder of the school. The founder began life as a poor boatman. By careful saving of his earnings he was by and by able to open a small metal-ware shop. Possessed of great business sagacity, he rose step by step, gradually amassing wealth, until he became a millionaire. Though he never learned to read and write, this self-made man had ideals and gave liberally for the free education of the poor. When he was past sixty he conceived the idea of founding a school as the best and most lasting memorial of himself he could leave to the city. The plans were made and the building begun, though the philanthropist did not live to see it completed. A statue is soon to be erected in his honour by a company of Shanghai merchants. The founder’s sons built a beautiful little memorial temple to their father on the school area between the playground and the out-of-doors gymnasium, and thither they resort at stated intervals to prostrate themselves before the ancestral tablets, as the students do in front of the philanthropist’s portrait in the reception hall. But they have no love for learning and take no interest whatever in the school, which goes to prove that not all the conservatives lived in the past century nor that all of the progressives are confined to the new. The fees are kept low, board and tuition for the entire school year of ten months and a half costing less than twenty-four dollars. Fifty of the boys are charity pupils. English and French are taught, the latter by a graduate of the school, and there is a small industrial department. The course of study extends through eleven years and carries the student up to about the third year in a home High School.

Close to the South Gate of the Chinese City, or where the South Gate formerly stood, is a plain red brick building called in English “The Shanghai High School.” The interior arrangement could not be simpler, a hall running through the middle, which is also a dining-room for the boarders, and class-rooms opening off from it on either side. Above are dormitories. In this building and three smaller ones on the grounds, five hundred boys, half of them boarders, whose ages average sixteen, are receiving a thorough education. A foreign educator remarked when visiting the school, “This shows what excellent work the Chinese can do with a very modest equipment, which, after all, answers in every way to their actual needs.” The story of this school is worth repeating. Thirteen years ago four progressive brothers banded together to help educate the youth of Shanghai. Not having sufficient money to purchase a suitable site and erect a building, they fitted up the family residence for a school, supporting it largely with their own funds. Three of the brothers are successful business men, and the fourth became the principal. He is a graduate of St. John’s University of the Protestant Episcopal Mission in Shanghai, a man in his early prime, of scholarly tastes and habits. Hardly had the doors of the school been opened when ninety boys flocked to it, and the number increased so rapidly that within a year or two it became necessary to look for more commodious quarters. The school in the meantime had received recognition from the local government and was given an annual grant-in-aid. The Chinese Municipality donated some of the public land for a site for the new plant, and in 1909 the present edifice was completed. Thirty teachers are employed, three of them being foreigners, and women. Speaking one day of the qualifications of his foreign teachers, reference was made by a friend to the fact that one of them had graduated with honour from the University of Edinburgh. “Yes,” said the principal smilingly, “I consider myself fortunate in securing her, but I always seek the very best for my school, for it is my purpose to maintain the highest standard.” And that he does maintain it was proved when several of his students on examination entered St. John’s University unconditioned, the first time a school under Chinese management had attained such distinction.

Four years after the brothers started their venture, their three sisters launched a school for girls. This school, like the other, had a small beginning, but from the first was a pronounced success. Later, its promotors were also given public land on which to build, and what is more, bricks from the city wall, at that time in process of being torn down, were donated for building material. Can the imagination conjure up anything more strange and romantic than a part of the old storied walls metamorphosed into a school for Chinese girls? How the city fathers who planned those walls, to say nothing of Confucius himself, whose prophetic eye caught no vision of a liberally educated womanhood, would have shrunk in horror from such unseemly desecration! The sisters are all married, one being a widow, and with their families live in neat apartments in the rear of the school. They are well-to-do, and teach for love’s sake rather than for the money there is in it. Indeed, the school has not yet become self-supporting. One teacher is principal, another supervises the classes in embroidery, and the third manages the business. The one hundred and thirty bright-faced pupils, besides the common branches, are taught music, drawing, painting, and plain sewing. They receive regular instruction in physical training from a young Chinese woman who had her own education in Boston. The school has been honoured with medals from several expositions to which specimens of beautiful embroidery and drawings have been sent.

Fifty years ago a baby girl destined for an unusual career was born in one of the patrician Chinese homes in Shanghai. She was reared in luxury and given the meagre education at home usually accorded by indulgent parents to girls in her position. Allowed by choice to remain unmarried, she eventually allied herself with a society of austere Buddhist religionists known as “vegetarians.” Years rolled by, till the girl, grown to womanhood, had passed her thirty-ninth birthday. She had long observed that her father was a liberal-minded man, and that his benefactions were frequently in aid of schools for girls, which were gradually becoming common. “If my father is interested in the education of girls,” she reasoned within herself, “why should I not open a school and he help _me_?” But when she mentioned the plan to her father he frowned upon it harshly, and her stepmother was even more violent in her opposition. Education might be condoned in others, but no daughter of theirs needed more than she had, and much less should she aspire to be a medium for encouraging it. Moreover, the father realized the young woman’s marked ability, and had plans of his own respecting the help she would by and by render him in the management of his estate. The more she was opposed, however, the stronger grew her purpose, until finally the controversy led to her being practically disinherited and driven from the parental roof. She had a little money with which she managed to open a small school, and then sold her jewels to keep it running. That was twelve years ago. Twice she has moved, the last time, in the spring of 1914, to a handsome new building she erected herself largely with the portion of her inheritance she was able to secure when her father died. There was a notable “opening” to which many Chinese guests and a few favored foreigners were invited. On the wall of the Assembly Room hung a large portrait of the principal’s father, for the flower of filial piety rarely dies in China, no matter how rough the winds that blow upon it. Chinese flags were draped over the platform and fluttered from pillar to post. In the side rooms the industrial work of the girls was on exhibition and a fine collation set forth.

The building and grounds of this school are always kept neat and attractive, and no matter what hour of the day the unexpected visitor arrives, he is sure to find dormitories and hall, and even dining-room, kitchen, and laundry worthy of the closest inspection. The kindergarten building is slightly separated from the main one, and it would be hard to find anywhere a more perfect model of its kind. Mothers’ Meetings are held from time to time when practicable. Matters relating to the child’s moral, mental, and physical well-being are frankly discussed.

“Commencement Day” is observed with great éclat. Last year, four “sweet girl graduates” sat on the platform, all dressed alike, in white Chinese silk made in Chinese style, white slippers with foreign heels, and tiny blue ribbon bows at the neck, and bands of narrow blue ribbon around their hair. The class colours were blue and white, and behind the girls hung their class banner, bearing on a white ground their motto “Excelsior” in blue letters. Each graduate had prepared an essay in English, but only one was read, “The Influence and Responsibility of the Young Women of China.” In thought and language it would have done credit to a school-girl in any land. The others wrote on, “The Need of Compulsory Education,” “The Evils of the Cigarette Habit,” and “The Advantages of an Education in China Over That Received Abroad.” Songs, piano solos, duets, and eight-handed pieces, recitations in French and English, and an eloquent address on “The Value of Education for Women,” by the Chinese Commissioner of Foreign Affairs, completed the programme, which throughout was of an exceptionally high order. Then came the closing scene as a delightful climax. Dr. Wu Ting Fang, former Minister to the United States, presented to each graduate a diploma tied with ribbon in approved Western style, which he received from the hand of the principal. It was hard to realize that the little woman standing beside Dr. Wu, so modest and retiring, in simple, dark Chinese dress, her hair combed straight back from her face in old-time Chinese fashion, was the promoter and controlling spirit of this most successful up-to-date school. She speaks no English and prefers to keep in the background as much as possible, yet hers is an unusual personality. Though not a professing Christian she is a believer in heart and is quite a regular attendant at a Protestant Episcopal Mission Church.