Childhood in China
By SU-HUA LING CHEN
IN the afternoon we children always played together at home. Sometimes we got my mother to sing the old Cantonese ballads, or we would make our eklest cousin tell stories chosen from old story-books. On certain days each month my father, as mayor of Peking, according to ancient Chinese custom, sat as judge of final appeal. Prisoners were brought from districts belonging to the capital to the mayor's law-court for a last judgement. The mayor in a way represented the emperor when ordering a prisoner's death.
When we heard that there would be a law-court that day we often hid ourselves behind the wooden screen in the front hall. We knew that father did not like us to listen and watch behind the screen. Once when father was angry and scolded a prisoner because he was lying, my ninth sister was frightened and burst out crying. Father was annoyed, but he did not punish her because .he said she was too young to be in such a place, and the fault was that of the grown-ups who allowed her to be there.
When father was attending the law-court, he often found it difficult to suppress a smile. His gentle smile gave the prisoners courage to say more in his court than in any other. When he saw the prisoner was kneeling in the courtyard in front of the hall, he would say to him: "I hope this time you will not hide anything from me." His voice sounded as kind as when he spoke to his own children. The prisoner would then make endless excuses for his crimes. He wanted, of course, to postpone his final sentence. Sometimes father tried to make him understand that it was no use to protest, but he always liked to give the prisoners some chance to linger, because, as he said, that was the only good thing a mayor could do to this kind of people. One year hundreds of prisoners were released because the Republic had taken the place of the Tsing Dynasty. Father often told his children that one must give others a chance even though one knows it may be useless, I still have a very vivid memory of what that old-fashioned law-court was like. I feel sorry for the judge when I go to a modern court. For the old court looked like a place where one must tell his heart's truth. A person likes to give his truth to someone who _deserves it. I think some prisoners must feel regretful at what they confess to the modern court simply because the court itself kicilts so poor.
When father was attending the law-court he wore full mandarin dress. He sat in the centre of a huge hall, decorated with bright red silk curtains and with a large table covered with red and yellow silk before_ him. The seal of the mayor, as big as a human skull, wrapped with yellow satin, was on the table, and big brushes and an ink-slab beside it. Behind father there stood a bodyguard of soldiers in black and yellow uniforms with red tassels on their caps. Numbers of minor officers and secretaries sat either side of him in their robes, each according to his rank. The hall had an atmosphere of " serious thought." Then the prisoners, came up one by one when called by name. If the prisoner said lie had no protest, father would ask him to sign his name as a confession on the account of his crime. There were often prisoners who could not write ; then they were asked to make a cross instead. After the prisoner had made a cross, father often asked him some questions as familiarly as an old friend. The minor officers gossiped about father's womanly
One day we were fold that there was going to be a law-court in the afternoon' and among the prisoners was a young woman who had murdered her mother-inAlaw. She was known through the district as a most dashing beauty: This news caused much excitement in our house. All the wothen forgot father's words and went to peep behind the wooden screen as soOn as father left for the court. I hid myself in front of their skirts.
"Oh, heavenly lord, is it possible a beauty like this could kill her mother-in-law ? " a young maid sighed when she saw the prisoner.
"Listen to het voice. A stone heart might melt," another voice exclaimed.
"My blue sky- lord "—the woman prisoner addressed father as other prisoner's did, but her voice seemed so powerful that the court became silent suddenly—" to tell the truth, I am not the person who has -killed -my mother-in-law, tor she had been killing me . . . My mother-in-law, actually had tried to kill me many times. before 1 killeCher. Any one of our neighbourhood could be my witness. All of them .haveseen- how. miserable I have been in my house. I work as hard as a cow or a donkey day after day, sometimes even worse than these animals, because they are allowed to meet their husbands, while I. . ."
My mother told us the story in later years. This woman was a fox-like woman She tried to mislead father, to have her sentence postponed, but the secretaries decided .not to listen to her. Thus we never had the pleasure of seeing this beautiful woman any more. But waves had been rising in our family that perhaps still live in the memory of those concerned. It was said that when father honestly answered fifth mother that the woman prisoner was pretty, fifth mother said something which hurt father's pride, and he threw a cup of hot tea over her new dress. She, of course, was furious. She took opium that night. The whole house was upset, but fortunately she was saved by a good doctor. My mother thought that this was one of the reasons of father seeking a new mistress.
Whenever I see a young woman with a pale thin face, and a pair of bright black eyes, walking like a willow branch shaking in the wind, I think of this woman prisoner. Once I asked father if she was a great beauty, and he answered me. "It depends who describes her. I think she was a great beauty. But she was like the flower in the mirror and the moon in the water. Your fifth mother made a mistake, for I never would he such an idiot as to try to pick the flower in the mirror, although it is true I feel enjoyment when I look at it."
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