CHAPTER IX.

THE HEATHEN CHINEE.

His Persecution—His Usefulness—His Intellectual Ability.

THE Chinese in Australia have a grievance. We have opened up China

against the wishes of their rulers, and when they take a leaf out of our

book, and commence opening up the world, we turn round and refuse them

admission. It is so in America, and it is so in Australia. At every

election meeting in Victoria when I was there, the candidate had to

declare that he was ready to vote for the exclusion of the Chinese. This

is how democracy uses its power. The Chinaman is civil, and obliging,

and hard-working; besides, he is sober; but the Australians won’t have

him at any price, and raise the cry of Australia for the Australians,

which means that no poor English emigrant may go there to take lower

wages than his mates rather than starve at home. As each colony is

isolated, this will mean in time that the work of each colony is to be

done only by its own workmen. Already in Queensland I see that a

complaint has been made because some workmen from Sydney have been

brought in to work. Australia wants opening up. It has only a sparse

population on its borders, and in many parts the workman, who is master

of the situation, will not work himself, nor allow any one else to do so.

The general public suffer, but that is their look-out. Prices are kept

up by Protection, and the protected further protect themselves by keeping

out the labourer anxious to earn an honest living. As the Chinese are

weak and friendless, it is against them chiefly that this policy is

enforced. I heard one day of a sturdy workman who had applied for

relief. When asked what he had been doing of late, he replied that he

had been picking grapes. Questioned why he had given the occupation up,

he answered that he was working with Chinese, and the boss expected him

to work as hard as they did.

Australia wants to compete with the cheap wine-sellers of Bordeaux; but

she is sadly handicapped in this and other ways. The farmer finds his

corn-fields eaten up by the parroquets, because he can hire no cheap

labour to scare away the birds. In the big towns it is the Chinaman who

supplies the people with cheap fish and vegetables. I own to a liking

for the ‘heathen Chinee.’ ‘Ah,’ said a well-known London Democrat to me

after I had returned home, ‘I see what you want. You want to reduce the

British workman to the level of the heathen Chinee.’ ‘No,’ was my reply.

‘I want to bring the British workman up to the level of the heathen

Chinee. He is economical, industrious, sober, and always civil, and one

cannot say that in all cases of the British workman.’ And in the

northern district they are sadly wanted. While in Adelaide, I read a

letter in _The South Australian Register_, in which the writer

emphatically declares that if any development of the northern territory

is to take place, it must be by the Chinese, or not at all. The writer

remarks: ‘If the Chinese are excluded or kept out here, all development

will cease, and the northern territory will just resolve itself into a

great Government camp, where some will be employed to watch the telegraph

wires, while others are scraping the rust off the wheels of the railway

carriages.’ And then he goes on to speak of the bogus telegrams and

Munchausen reports that caused the Chinese scare. This northern

territory, be it remembered, which has been tacked on to South Australia

and governed from Adelaide, embraces an immense extent of country, and

contains an area of about 323,620 square miles. Its principal harbour is

Port Darwin, which is one of the finest in Australia, almost equalling

that of Sydney. It is rich in mineral resources, and gold and rubies.

The climate is tropical, and the soil in many parts is very rich.

Already it contains many great cattle stations. The writer I have

referred to says: ‘I have had a nearly three years’ residence here,

trying to develop a large run for a Victorian owner. This enables me to

speak with complete knowledge of the climate, and the kind of labour

suitable for the country; for out-of-door work the European may be

dismissed at once.’ Clearly, in such a case, the Chinaman is the right

man in the right place. But ‘No,’ say the Queenslanders; ‘if you allow

the Chinese there, they will cross the border and come to us.’ Again,

says an intelligent Adelaide editor to me: ‘It cannot be; the Chinese are

many, we are few—they will take possession of all Australia.’ Surely it

would not be a difficult thing to limit the extent of Chinese

immigration. A Chinaman cannot disguise his nationality. Dress him in

Christian clothes—his _tout ensemble_, his oval face, his brown skin, his

high cheek-bones, his little twinkling eyes, will betray him, to say

nothing of his pigtail and his pigeon English. By all means, in the

interests of civilization, I would say, let him come. It would be better

for Australia and the world that it should be opened up, than allowed to

remain a waste.

In Adelaide I have seen a splendid specimen of what a Chinaman may become

when he is naturalized and turned into a British subject. His name is

Mr. Way Lee, and a more agreeable man I have not seen for a long time.

His shop was full of China ware and Chinese tea. He had on a black coat,

a white waistcoat, a light pair of trousers, and his pigtail was rolled

into a neat plait at the back of his head. In his drawing-room he had a

piano, and a portrait of her Majesty in a very rich gold frame. His only

peculiarity of costume was as regards his small feet, which were encased

in Chinese slippers. He offered me a glass of wine much as an ordinary

Christian would have done; I refused it, but, however, accepted a Manilla

cheroot, and we got into a pleasant talk. He told me that he was

thirty-seven; I should have guessed that he was not more than

twenty-five. He had two extraordinary, highly-coloured religious Chinese

pictures, which made me believe that he was a follower of Confucius.

However, I was deceived. ‘I go,’ said he, with a bland smile, ‘to the

Baptist, the Congregational, the Wesleyan Churches—any vere my friends

take me.’

Not a bigot, at any rate, is Mr. Way Lee. In Adelaide he has won golden

opinions. He has traded there for years; is straightforward in all his

doings; has deservedly gained the reputation of being an exemplary

citizen—strict in his regard for municipal rights and regulations, and

vigilant in his endeavours to enforce the maintenance of law and order.

And his own Government have conferred upon him the dignity of a Mandarin.

He is renowned for his charity. Well, he has succeeded in business, and

has an establishment in Sydney which, naturally, he desires to visit, but

by crossing the border into New South Wales he renders himself liable to

a heavy fine of £100. He has written to Sir Henry Parkes on the subject,

but the Free Trade Premier tells him he cannot help him. Why, asks the

paper which has taken, and rightly taken, up his case, should Mr. Way

Lee, who has established as strong a claim upon the goodwill of his

fellows, and the protection of the State as any of his trade competitors,

be placed at a serious disadvantage in carrying on his business, because

he happens to have been born in the Flowery Land? Why should he be held

up to the ridicule and scorn of his fellow colonists because he hails

from China? The time will come when Australia will be heartily ashamed

of conduct which savours more of the narrow and intolerant spirit of the

dark ages than of the enlightenment and liberality of modern times.

There are not many such decent Chinese in Australia. Whose fault is

that? Certainly the Caucasian has set the heathen Chinee a very sorry

example. ‘Government have inspectors,’ said Way Lee to me; ‘Government

can put them down if they gamble and be wicked.’ Surely the Caucasian

can take care of himself; at any rate, he has the credit of being able to

do so. The little almond-eyed heathen cheats him when he is drunk; then

let him keep sober. I have been in an opium den; I have been in a

gin-palace. The opium den is a heaven compared with the latter. In

Australia every drunken larrikin thinks it good fun to push down or

ill-treat a Chinee. Such brutality makes one’s blood boil. Nor can it

be well with a people where such ruffianism exists in its midst.

Australia is big, and so big that the Australians themselves are little

acquainted with it. Surely there is room enough for the Chinaman, and he

can open up such parts of it as are unhealthy for the European. Mr. Way

Lee, in every respect, is as good an Australian as any I have met with;

his manners are unexceptionable; he goes into society. Such as he do not

level down, but are levelled up, and Australia might do with China a

large and profitable trade. I question whether the leaders in the

anti-Chinese crusade are really in earnest; they join in it as a means to

an end; by means of it they trust to get place and power. All I could do

was to assure Mr. Lee that we in England were not responsible for such

treatment as he had received; that we had little else to do than to

supply the colonies with governors and a fleet. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said;

but he felt the hardship, nevertheless.

Intellectually the heathen Chinee is coming to the front. In describing

the results of recent examinations at the University of Melbourne, a

newspaper writer says: ‘Dr. Bevan’s eldest son (Willett) carried off no

less than nine prizes at the Church of England Grammar School, including

the Dux and Speaker’s Prize, another son of the doctor’s also doing well.

It is not without satirical suggestion, however, that Cheong (who was

second Dux) beat Bevan in English spelling and New Testament Greek. It

is curious, to say the least of it, that a Chinese should excel an

English boy in _English_ spelling, and that the son of a convert from

heathenism should surpass the son of a Christian pastor in an examination

upon the textbook of the Christian faith.’

As to the usefulness of the Chinee in Australia I am glad to supplement

my remarks with an extract from a letter of a gentleman in the _London

and China Express_.

The writer, Mr. Sampson, an intelligent resident of many years in China,

says: ‘During a recent visit to Victoria, during which I made it my

particular business to inquire into matters connected with the Chinese, I

found that the objection to Chinese immigration is by no means universal

in that colony. The principal objectors are the labour-aristocracy and

the politicians who seek to gain their votes; on the other side are the

employers of labour generally—farmers, fruit-growers, masters of

steamers, women burdened with domestic cares, and sometimes even diggers

and unskilled labourers, who are not bound to accept the doctrines

dictated by a labour union. “We don’t want the Chinese to go,” said a

labouring man to me, at a wayside inn, some ten miles from Sandhurst; he

was an Irishman, and was celebrating the news of the defeat of the

_Times_ in the matter of the forged letters. “We don’t want the Chinese

to go; we want them to stop here, and grow cabbages for us.” This

pithily-expressed view of the question I found very prevalent. A lady

fellow-passenger in a steamer said to me, with a sigh, “Ah, if women had

votes there would be no restrictions on the immigration of Chinese.” She

valued them as faithful and dutiful domestic servants, and as polite,

obliging, and honest hawkers of vegetables and other small household

requirements. I visited a large orchard in which every grape had been

sucked dry by birds, and the parrots were making sad havoc amongst the

apples, pears, and peaches. I remarked to the owner that in China a

couple of men could be employed to keep away the birds at ten shillings a

month. “Ah!” was the reply. “Here I should have to pay eight shillings

a day, and then I should have to stay on the grounds myself to see that

they did their work.” The following characteristic story was told me: An

Australian, being about to leave the colony for a year or two, instructed

a broker to let for that period a piece of land which he owned. The

broker secured a tenant, and the owner agreed to the terms without

inquiring who the tenant was. When the time arrived for him to sign the

legal documents he found that the proposed tenant was a Chinaman. ‘He

wished to repudiate the bargain, but matters had advanced too far for him

to do so. On his return from England he found that the Chinese tenant

had improved the ground so much that he said, “If ever I have to go away

again I will let a Chinaman have the use of my land for nothing rather

than accept rent from a white man.” These anecdotes are, of course, only

isolated cases, but they serve to illustrate opinions, and to show forth

facts of importance.’

An Australian Ramble; Or, A Summer in Australia · 第 9 / 14 章