In the winter of 1894 a dispute broke out between a silk merchant and a tailor, and it soon disrupted the peace of the neighborhood. The silk merchant had his shop on the East Gate Street, where most business was conducted in Qingjiangpu. In the course of one afternoon, a roll of silk was noticed missing from the counter. It was assumed to have been stolen. A tailor who was in the shop at the time was accused and—before all eyes—subjected to a search by the merchant. But no silk was found on his person. This raised a loud kerfuffle, and the silk merchant apologized to the tailor. In the West, that might have been the grudging end of the matter.
But such a public indignity was more than the tailor was going to endure. Something had to be done to save his face and secure whatever honor he might salvage or gain. So the offended tailor returned to the shop with several other tailors. For if one tailor had been shamed, the whole guild had been shamed.
The tailors now made themselves at home in the store and proceeded to curse and revile the silk merchant in grand operatic style. Soon the constable was called in. But the constable was similarly treated, and rewarded with a sound beating. Then the alderman was called in. But he too received his share of abuse. Finally the magistrate was called in to settle the matter. And with little ceremony he ordered each of the tailors beaten 500 times with the bamboo rod. A severe beating indeed! (500 times … really?) Then he tossed them in jail to lick their wounds.
Naturally, the incident became the talk of the town. And soon enough the tailors’ wives, sisters, sisters-in-law, mothers, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, and even children had descended on the silk shop. Since verbal abuse seemed not to do the trick, they proceeded to smash lamps and break windows. Finally, they were pushed out of the shop into the street, where they maintained their demonstration until 3:00 a.m., when the magistrate sent in soldiers to clear them out.
The magistrate, seeing that the incident was not easily resolved, called for the original tailor. He had heard that the tailor was now employed making silk gowns for an ex-official. So the magistrate sent a request that the tailor be sent to the yamen. But the ex-official said the tailor was not there. His message was clear: “I’m not going to be dragged into this affair.” By this time the protesting tailors were insisting that the silk merchant too deserved 500 blows.
Coming before the magistrate.
The grievance now spread among the townspeople. An illustrated placard was put up picturing the magistrate selling his daughter (i.e., the people) into prostitution. Fearing general rioting, the magistrate sent out a proclamation warning the public to cease and to mind their own families as well. If not, the protesting women would be disciplined as well as the men.
Meanwhile the silk merchant did not dare reopen his store, and the tailors were still simmering over their loss of face. How would this matter be resolved? Days later the local magistrate decided to send the matter up to a higher magistrate in the neighboring city of Huaian.
When the case went to Huaian, the tailors were all ordered to present themselves before the magistrate.
The magistrate asked them, “Whom do you accuse? The magistrate of Qingjiangpu or the silk man?”
They immediately replied, “The silk man.”
This response permitted the chief magistrate to avoid any unwanted complications with the magistrate back in Qingjiangpu. He then lectured the tailors on their making an intolerable uproar over such a small incident. The accused tailor admitted to his wrong, and was sternly instructed to let the matter drop. And so he did. But what could the magistrate do to restore the offended tailor’s honor and bring the affair to a successful conclusion?
The magistrate called for a sedan chair, with four bearers. And he sent the tailor back over the ten miles home in grand style. And so the tailor passed through the city gate of Qingjiangpu, and was lofted down the East Gate road, trailing clouds of glory. His face was restored, publicly for all to see. The silk merchant was also vindicated. But so too was the Confucian wisdom of the Huaian magistrate put on display.
At the Jesus Hall Love and Mercy Hospital, just inside the East Gate, the Southern Presbyterian missionaries watched and wondered. And Henry Woods, having inquired of those reliably in the know, sent in his dispatches to the North China Herald in Shanghai.1
I am relying on the two successive reports in the North China Herald, January 26, 1894 and February 23, 1894. In my previous post, I explained why I think these anonymous reports were submitted by Henry Woods, a Southern Presbyterian missionary in Qingjiangpu.