DOWN THE SOUTHERN COAST
Foochow is one of the most important ports along the southern coast of
China. It is not exactly on the coast, however, being thirty-four miles
up the Min River. The old city was placed three miles back from the
river, because in the olden days the inhabitants feared attacks by
pirates. Now there is also a long, slender city all the way from the
walled town to the river. Besides, two islands in the river are so
covered with houses and shops and people that it is hard to draw one’s
breath, and on the farther bank is still more city. Part of this last is
the foreign concession, called Nantai, with one long modern street or
road shaded by big evergreens and lined by comfortable foreign houses,
offices, schools, and churches, each in its own yard.
The view from these foreign houses over the several parts of Foochow and
up and down the Min is very picturesque. Besides the people crowded upon
the two islands and on the mainland there are thousands who live in
boats. These are packed tightly together, row after row, so that the
water too seems to have its streets. If a boat gets a job carrying a
passenger or some freight it is very fortunate, for there are many more
boats than there are boating jobs. Most of the boats simply serve as
homes, and the man goes ashore in the daytime to earn the family rice by
pulling a rickshaw or doing any other work he can find.
A very ancient bridge, made of huge stone blocks that have been worn
glass-smooth by millions of feet, crosses the river, taking in the two
crowded islands on the way. It has so many piers that when the river is
high the water is held back, and most of the boats cannot pass it at
all. So Foochow is talking of putting up a modern iron bridge, which
will be more convenient but less picturesque than this old stone
structure, crowded with people all day long.
Some Chinese Are Fine Craftsmen
Large steamers do not come up to Foochow, but stop at Pagoda Anchorage
several miles down the river. Yet, handicapped as it is, the city is a
great port. Quantities of tea, grown in Fukien, are shipped from
Foochow. The city is noted for its waterproof oiled silk, its
silversmiths and goldsmiths, and its lacquer-work. I saw a lacquered
screen that a man had spent eight years in making. He worked every other
hour and rested in between, because this work is so wearisome. Two or
three such screens are all he can make in a lifetime. It took him until
he was about twenty to learn how, and after he is thirty-five his eyes
will no longer stand such fine work. Yet he was paid only about
twenty-five cents a day, with rice and a plank to sleep on. Foochow and
the cities higher up the Min are noted for their pillows, but you would
not recognize them as such. They are made of a block of wood covered
with woven-bamboo that gives slightly, and are painted bright red. Like
the Japanese, most Chinese prefer a hard pillow, and coolies think a
brick makes a very good one.
In Foochow and the region about it much of the work is done by women who
wear three great silver or pewter daggers in their hair. It is said that
they are descendants of tribes conquered by the Chinese, and that
because their ancestors were given daggers as a protection against the
Chinese soldiers these present-day women wear the weapons also.
[Illustration:
In Foochow District “field women” such as these do any work that men
can do, for they do not have bound feet and they have become used to
hard labor. Each of them wears three silver or pewter daggers in her
hair. The “field women” are said to be descendants of tribes that
were conquered centuries ago by the Chinese.
]
Different Chinese Dialects
Most of China speaks more or less the same language, which we call
mandarin. But all along the coast from Shanghai onward, in a strip about
a hundred miles wide, there are many dialects. Only about three million
people use the Foochow speech, and few of them can talk to other
Chinese. It is much as if Chicago had its own language which other
Americans could not understand.
Amoy, as foreigners call it, farther on along the coast in the same
province, also has its own dialect. There the foreign concession is a
rocky island a mile or more from the native city. Between it and the
shore is a splendid harbor. A little piece of railroad that runs a few
miles inland is the only railway in all Fukien Province. Out in the
ocean opposite Foochow and Amoy is the big island of Formosa. Formerly
it belonged to China, but it was taken by Japan after her war with China
in 1894–95. The Chinese in Formosa, except recent immigrants, have
Japanese citizenship and rights of extraterritoriality when on the
mainland, and some of them cause the Chinese authorities there much
trouble.
Swatow, still farther on, is of more importance to foreigners and their
steamers than it is to the Chinese. Some time before I reached the city
a great tidal wave had swept over it, destroying many buildings and
killing thousands of people. Certain of the narrow streets were
crisscrossed with timbers holding up the house-walls on either side. In
other places the streets were wide and well paved, with quite new and
modern shops along them—as if the tidal wave had done the place some
good after all, by making rebuilding necessary.
Queer Old Customs
A railroad about thirty miles long runs from Swatow to a larger and much
older city, called Chaochowfu. There I saw some things which I had read
of in old books on China but which I thought had now disappeared. For
instance, thirty men were carrying an enormous slab of stone through
town, and in some places they had to go far out of their way because the
stone was too long to turn a corner. Each coolie had the end of a bamboo
over his shoulder, and they were all chanting a kind of song as they
crept along. Chaochowfu is famous for a great bridge. Part of it is made
of great stone slabs such as those I saw being carried. The rest of it
is a pontoon bridge, that is, a bridge of boats which can be moved aside
when other boats wish to go up or down the river.
The queerest of the old-fashioned customs I saw in Chaochowfu was hard
to believe. Two young men went about inflicting wounds on themselves in
order to arouse sympathy and induce people to give them money or food.
There are so many more people than good jobs almost anywhere in China
that such queer ways of getting a living are often tried. Once I saw a
dwarf who earned his rice by the use he made of a pipe with a very long
stem. Wherever he saw a crowd of coolies, he went up to them and passed
around the end of the stem. Each man who took a few puffs gave the dwarf
some “cash” or a copper coin.
An English Possession in China
Hong Kong is not really in China, but it is quite Chinese. It is a high
rocky island belonging to England, but Chinese make up most of the
population. Its wonderful blue harbor can accommodate hundreds of ships,
and nearly all the flags of the world are seen there. Most of the
English residents live on the mountain side, back above the native town
and business section.
[Illustration:
Thousands of boats like these are used as homes along the coast of
southern China. The people are born, married, and die on boats. Do
you notice the _eyes_ at the bow of some of these queer craft? The
Chinese think a boat needs to see just as well as a man or an
animal.
]
Two-story street cars run along the main street, but curious chairs,
like shallow boxes on poles, carry the people who wish to ride up the
hillside. An electric cog-wheel railway, with stout steel cables between
the cars, takes passengers up to the Peak, from which there is a
wonderful panorama of sea and islands. Four hours by steamer across the
bay from Hong Kong is the oldest foreign colony in China, Macao. The
Portuguese have had it for nearly three hundred years, but now it is
little more than a big gambling and opium den.
The Great City of Canton
The most interesting city in southern China is Canton, a short day or
night ride up the Chu-kiang, or Pearl River, north of Hong Kong. Since
shortly after the revolution of 1911 it has been separated from the rest
of China, with a government of its own. Therefore it often calls itself
the “southern capital.” Its spoken language is also different from
mandarin, so that we could not talk to the people at all. I once acted
as interpreter between two Chinese. One was a man from Canton who spoke
English, and the other a man from the north, whose language I could
speak a little, but of which the Cantonese could not speak a word. The
Chinese name of Canton is Kwangchowfu, and it is the capital of
Kwangtung Province, from which we get our name for the city.
We lived for several months in Canton. Our house was in Saikwan, the
western suburb. Never have you seen such a labyrinth of winding narrow
streets as the one through which we had to pick our way to get home.
Many of the houses and shops had outer doors of wooden bars, so that the
air could enter but beggars and robbers could not. Most foreigners who
have just come to China are afraid to go into those narrow streets of
old Canton.
[Illustration:
A board with round hollows in it is used in Canton as a sort of cash
register. The principal money in that city is the silver twenty-cent
piece. A man tosses a handful of money onto the board, shakes the
board until there is a coin in each hollow, empties the coins into a
basket, and picks up another handful.
]
The noise made by rushing coolies and yellow-faced merchants shrieking
for customers is enough to terrify anyone at first. Yet when one gets
used to it one finds this fear of Chinese street life as foolish as
being afraid of the dark. We had no trouble at all during our many long
wanderings through the famous old city, though often we were lost and
had to wander a long time before finding our way. In time we became very
friendly with these rushing, shouting people who at first seemed rather
dreadful.
There was formerly a great wall about Canton, and a second one not far
from the river. But Dr. Sun Yat-sen, a famous Chinese who headed the
revolution against the Manchus, had the walls removed while he was
governor of Canton. Once when he was a young man he had to climb over
the city wall in the middle of the night in order to save himself from
the Manchu soldiers. So perhaps he was glad of the chance to tear down
the walls and make wide streets in place of them.
Some similar avenues have been cut through the old walled city. Here one
sees private automobiles and autobuses rather than the old sedan-chairs.
But during most of the year it is pleasant to turn off the sun-scorched
dusty new streets and wander through the old ones, so narrow that
sometimes you can touch both walls at once. Many of these streets are
roofed over with awnings made of oyster-shells, so that they are
completely protected from the glaring sunshine.
The best view of Canton is from Five Story Pagoda hill, once a part of
the city wall. The famous old temple that gives the hill its name is in
a ruinous state, and may soon fall down entirely unless the Cantonese
repair it. In the center of the city below rises the Flowery Pagoda, one
of the prettiest in China. Close to it is a great green spot called the
British Yamen, because the English took it during a war and still hold
it. Beyond stands what the Cantonese call the Smooth Pagoda. Unlike
other Chinese pagodas, this is not built in stories. It is really an old
minaret, with a little mosque at its foot, and dates from the time when
there were many Mohammedans in Canton. Outside the old walled city among
other Moslem graves is the tomb of a man who claimed to be the uncle of
Mohammed.
The two church spires that rise above the city to the left belong to the
big cathedral built by the French. Down by the river, on the farther
edge of the city, stands a high building that seems to belong to New
York. It is a great Chinese department store, much like ours at home,
where you can buy almost anything. There are other quite modern
buildings along the Bund, the wide water-front street that is always
filled with traffic. Wireless towers stand out against the skyline.
Across the river is more of Canton, on an island called Honam. There we
found no wide streets at all, and it was like solving a Chinese puzzle
to find our way through its maze of narrow crooked passageways.
Beautiful Things Made in Canton
Canton produces much silk, beautiful native furniture, fans made of
everything from peacock feathers to stout paper on which are written
Chinese sentences. It would take pages just to mention the beautiful and
interesting things found in the city’s open-front shops. Near the French
cathedral is a dirty little street where all sorts of pretty and
sometimes useful things are made of ivory. Boys who do not seem old
enough to have learned any trade carve artistic figures and curious
playthings out of elephant tusks. Some of the shops use bone instead of
ivory, and strangers must be careful when buying. Across the river in
Honam the famous Canton china is decorated with bright red
fighting-cocks and other designs; but it is not made there, coming
undecorated all the way from Kingtehchen.
[Illustration:
Watering a garden in the outskirts of Canton. The Chinese are tireless
agricultural workers and know their business well.
]
The foreign concession in Canton is an island called Shameen. One third
of it belongs to the French and the rest to the British. But Americans
and Japanese and people of many other nationalities live there and have
banks, consulates, and so forth. No vehicles except baby-carriages are
allowed on Shameen. With its wide shaded streets, its park, tennis
courts, and football field, it looks much like an old New England city.
A narrow canal separates Shameen from the native city, and watchmen keep
most Chinese from crossing either of the two bridges. Boat-homes, of
which there are thousands in the river and in the canals of Canton, are
not allowed to stay on the foreign side of the canal, but they are as
closely packed against the opposite bank as automobiles in a city
street. Several other foreign communities have grown up in the outskirts
of Canton, for Shameen is by no means large enough to accommodate all
foreigners.
Gaudy weddings and funerals make their way through the city streets. The
delicious Chinese fruit called _laichee_, which America knows only after
it is dried, grows in some of the parks. Not every feature of Canton is
pleasing, however. The rickshaws do not have wire wheels and pneumatic
tires, like those of Peking and most of northern China, but wooden
buggy-wheels that make a great racket and give one a rough ride. When
the tide is out, the canals on which people glide home at high tide are
often very smelly and far from pretty. One day I saw an official
pounding a prisoner with a big hickory club to make him confess; sights
even more distressing are sometimes seen.