Trip up the Shu-Kiang river--My fellow-passengers and their costumes--A
damaged bell--Female peasants on the river-banks--I am caught up and
carried off by a laughing virago--Arrival at Canton--Early trading
between China and Ceylon and Africa, etc.--The Empress Lui-Tseu
teaching the people to rear silk-worms--The treaties of Nanking and
Tien-tsin--Bombardment of Canton--Murder of a French sailor and terrible
revenge--M. Vaucher and I explore Canton--The _fétes_ in honour of the
Divinity of the North and of the Queen of Heaven--General appearance
of Canton--An emperor's recipe for making tea--How tea is grown in
China--The Fatim garden--A dutiful son--Scene of the murder of the
Tai-Ping rebels--The Temple of the five hundred Genii--Suicide of a young
engineer--Return of his spirit in the form of a snake.
Well-built, comfortable steamers leave Hong-Kong daily for Canton. I
embarked in one of them one fine spring morning, when a fresh sea-breeze
was blowing, such as gives new life to those enervated by too long a
residence in the tropics. I did not see a single white face amongst the
passengers, for European trade is all transferred to Hong-Kong, now driven
away from Canton by the burning by the Celestials of the fine factories
built outside the gates of the city by European contractors.
[Illustration: FIG. 14.--A PAGODA.]
My fellow-passengers, all Chinese, wore loose garments of blue cotton,
thick-soled shoes, and a skull-cap, from which a long pig-tail, in many
cases of false hair, hung down the back, reaching to the heels. The crew
of American sailors as they navigated the vessel kept a watchful eye upon
the passengers, for though the latter looked peaceable enough, there had
been more than one instance of the sudden transformation of inoffensive
travellers into daring pirates, who, after pillaging and burning the ship,
had made for the nearest shore and escaped the vengeance of those they had
robbed.
Before entering the great Shu-Kiang river, on the north bank of which
Canton is built, we passed the ruins of a fort dating from the time of
the Dutch supremacy. Beyond it the stream is bordered by green rice
plantations with little hills rising up here and there surmounted by
isolated pagodas of several storeys high. On one of them I noticed
standing out against the sky from the fifth storey the fragment of a bell,
one-half of which had been shot away by a ball from a French cannon.
Great indeed must have been the astonishment of the Chinese, posted on
this particular pagoda to watch the movements of the enemies' troops,
when the projectile struck the sonorous mass of bronze and shivered it
to splinters. The catastrophe must have been to them a warning full of
sinister yet salutary meaning.
[Sidenote: THE PEARL OF THE EAST]
The river rushes proudly along towards its final home in the ocean, but
narrows before it reaches its actual mouth, the water becoming yellow,
as does that of the Nile at the time of its rising. Even without glasses
I could quite clearly make out several poor-looking villages, the houses
with their dull red roofs occupied no doubt by fishermen and their
families. Oh, how different were the surroundings of these water-highways
of China to those of the Seine, the Rhone, and of the charming Gironde!
How much I preferred even the Nile, which I had but recently left, to
this so-called Pearl of the East, for in spite of the ugly black mud-huts
of the fellaheen, there is something beautiful about the river-side
scenery. I like the graceful date-tree far better than the bamboo with its
self-conscious uprightness, and I considerably prefer the slim and supple
Egyptian women to the clumsy, heavy-limbed female peasants of China, such
as I saw on the banks of the Shu-Kiang, dragging heavy loads behind them
as they strode along in a manner which made me doubtful as to their sex,
especially as their faces were hidden by the great hats they wore. A few
more turns of the paddle-wheels of our steamer, and it stopped opposite
Canton. In a moment a virago, such as those I had been looking at with
anything but admiration, was on the deck, and seizing me in her strong
arms as if I were a delicate baby, she quickly deposited me at the bottom
of her own boat, roaring with laughter over my embarrassment. I had no
longer any doubt as to her sex, as with a few vigorous strokes of her oars
she ran her boat ashore, and with the same maternal care as she had shown
before she landed me upon the wharf of the little island of Hainan where I
was expected.
There is no particular historic interest attached to Canton except that it
was the very first Chinese town to enter into relations with foreigners.
We know that this opening of intercourse took place in the year 618
A.D., but whence the foreigners came is not so certain. Possibly some of
them were from Ceylon, and undoubtedly others were from the continent of
Africa, as proved by the fact that elephants' tusks, the horns of the
rhinoceros, coral, pearls, redwood, and medicines were brought into the
city by the strangers, who received metals in exchange--that is to say,
copper, tin, and gold, and silk--especially silk--for it was manufactured
in the Celestial Empire twenty-seven centuries before the Christian era.
It was Lui-Tseu, the wife of the great Emperor Kwang-Ti, or the Yellow
ruler, who taught the people the art of rearing the silk-worm and spinning
the material it produced. The industry of silk-weaving has brought such
wealth to China that Lui-Tseu has been raised to the rank of a beneficent
genius, and is honoured under the name of the "Spirit of the mulberry-tree
and the silk-worm."
In 1127 an edict was issued forbidding the exportation of metal, and
ordering all payments to be made from henceforth in money alone. It is
recorded in Chinese annals that at a considerably later date a French
vessel came up the river Shu-Kiang and fired her cannons in an aggressive
manner, so that relations with foreigners were broken off.
In 1425, however, an embassy from Portugal resulted in the re-admission
of foreigners to Canton, and a century later the Dutch also obtained a
footing in the city.
[Sidenote: ENGLISH MONOPOLY OF TRADE]
They in their turn were, however, supplanted by the English, who
practically enjoyed a monopoly of trade from the beginning of the
eighteenth century until 1834. At that date their prosperity began to
decline, one dispute succeeding another, and in 1839 open war broke out
between England and China. In 1841 Hong-Kong was ceded to the former
power, and in 1842 the Treaty of Nanking was signed, opening to British
traders the five ports of Canton, Amoy, Fuchau, Ningpo, and Shanghai.
Fresh friction was caused by the arrogant assumptions of the Chinese and
the vacillating policy of the English, culminating in the war of 1856,
the immediate cause of which was the capture by the Chinese of a lorcha,
or small hybrid vessel of European build, with the rigging of a Chinese
junk flying the British flag. After a fierce struggle a peace was again
patched up, but the factories outside Canton had all been destroyed by the
mob, and prosperity has never since fully returned to the city. It was
not until 1860, when the Convention of Pekin was signed, ratifying the
Treaty of Tien-tsin, that anything like cordial relations were established
between England and China, and since then these relations have been again
and again disturbed.
Before the bombardment of Canton by the united fleets of England and
France every foreigner found within the walls of that inhospitable
town was beheaded at once. Naturally, with the memory of all that had
so recently happened fresh in my mind, I hesitated when M. Vaucher,
representative on the island of Hainan, of the Swiss house of the same
name, suggested that we should go together through the streets of Canton
in sedan chairs. I did not like to allude to the danger I might run
myself, but I asked if I should not be exposing him to peril. "No," was
his reply, "your fellow-countrymen have won the permanent respect of
the people for all foreigners, and you will be able to boast on your
return home of having explored the vast city with no other protector than
myself."
[Sidenote: A TERRIBLE REVENGE]
M. Vaucher then told me the following story:
"After the allied fleets had taken possession of Canton, the commanders
used to send a party of men every morning to get fresh fruit for the table
of the officers, and rarely did a day pass without at least one Englishman
being absent at calling over. Any sailor, who to satisfy his curiosity was
foolish enough to leave his comrades for a moment, was at once set upon by
Chinese soldiers and murdered in the open street. Vainly did the Admiral
of the English fleet threaten to make bloody reprisals if the authorities
did not punish the offenders. The same kind of thing happened again and
again. At last one day five or six sailors belonging to a French frigate
landed and made their way into Canton. As they turned into a street they
missed one of their party, and presently they found his headless corpse
lying on the ground. When the crime became known to the French, the second
in command of the fleet collected fifty volunteers, armed them with
revolvers and hatchets, and landing with them, marched them into Canton.
On arriving in the street where the murder had been committed, some of the
men were told off to guard the entrances to it, whilst the rest made their
way into the houses and killed all the Chinese they found in them except
one, who, though he had already been hit by six bullets, calmly walked
up the middle of the street without quickening his pace or even turning
his head to the right or the left at the sound of the renewed firing.
The leader of the expedition at last ran up to him and gave him a smart
blow on the shoulder. The fearless Celestial merely turned his pale face
towards his assailant, looking at him without a smile. He did not even
tremble in the grasp of his enemy. Touched by his courage the officer
spared his life handing him over to two sailors with orders to do him no
harm.
[Illustration: FIG. 15.--A STREET IN CANTON.]
"After this bloody punishment, which was very hostilely criticized by
the English press of Hong-Kong and Shanghai, Europeans, whatever their
nationality, have been able to wander about unmolested either alone or in
parties in the streets of Canton."
[Sidenote: I EXPLORE CANTON]
[Illustration: FIG. 16.--A WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE WITH HER BABY.]
After listening to this tale, I had an eager desire to explore the town,
which, since the departure of the allied fleets, had rarely been entered
by Europeans. I watched anxiously for the first symptom in the faces of
the inhabitants of the hereditary hatred of white men, which had most
likely been greatly intensified by the bombardment of the town, and by the
punishment inflicted for the murder of the French sailors, a punishment by
no means excessive, terrible as it was. I am bound to add, however, that
as M. Vaucher and I were carried rapidly through the crowded streets by
our coolies, in our respective chairs, we noted no hostility in the placid
faces of those we encountered. The people stood aside to let us pass,
and showed rather benevolent curiosity than insulting indifference. The
Chinese children, with their round heads and strongly-marked eyebrows,
who are so aggressive and impudent in the interior of the country, here
remained perfectly silent. Only the old women tottering along on their
deformed feet paused in their painful walk now and then, to lean against
the walls of the houses, and look at us in a mocking though not exactly
a hostile manner. Our progress was only once arrested for a moment, when
we met a great military mandarin in a narrow street, escorted by some ten
warriors bearing their halberds on their shoulders. The mandarin stopped,
and we passed without difficulty, giving him a military salute in return
for his courtesy.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.--A CHINESE MANDARIN.]
I confess that this unexpected complaisance put me into a very good
humour, and after this incident I gave myself up without reserve to the
enjoyment of my first visit to a Chinese town.
[Illustration: FIG. 18.--A GONG-RINGER.]
[Sidenote: HOMAGE TO PAKTAI]
By a lucky chance I had arrived at the very moment when the inhabitants
were celebrating two of their greatest festivals. The first, in honour
of the beautiful Paktai, the fair Divinity of the North, was simply
remarkable for the immense crowds flocking to the pagodas, crowds made
up of bonzes, bonzesses, portly mandarins, cooks and barbers vigorously
plying their trades, æsthetes with effeminate faces, young girls full of
delight at getting out of their palanquins for once, and at being able to
totter about on the flag-stones of the temples for a few minutes on their
poor mutilated feet.
When the gilded pedestal upholding the shrine of Paktai was completely
hidden beneath the flowers flung upon it by the crowds, the worshippers
all repaired _en masse_ to see the theatrical representations which take
place after the religious ceremony. Not until midnight did every one go
home, only to meet again the next day, when a great procession passed
through the city, in the midst of which the venerated idol was carried
with the greatest pomp. Some on horseback, others in sedan chairs, were
many young boys and girls wearing the costumes in vogue amongst the heroes
and heroines of the earliest days of the Celestial Empire. Many too
were the banners of beautiful silk embroidered with various devices or
inscriptions in golden letters, and still more numerous were the bearers
of the large gongs, some of which were of such an immense circumference
that it took two strong coolies to carry them.
All Asiatics love a deafening noise, and the delight of the Chinese may be
imagined when the accumulated din of these great bronze disks becomes one
continuous roar like thunder.
[Illustration: FIG. 19.--A CHINESE ACTOR.]
The second _féte_ I witnessed was celebrated in the Honan suburb in
honour of Tien-Ho, the Queen of Heaven, and the protectress of sailors.
All the ship-owners of the populous city of Canton, all the pilots,
all the captains of junks and sampans, all the fishermen, boatmen, and
boatwomen,--in fact, every human creature connected in the remotest
degree with anything like shipping or boats, were collected in front of
the sanctuary of the goddess. Her statue too was covered with flowers,
and, as in the case of the _féte_ of the Divinity of the North, the
theatre opened directly the pagoda of the Queen of Heaven closed. The
stage was erected about a hundred yards from the pagoda, so that the
devout had only to turn round to pass at once from the sacred to the
profane.
[Sidenote: A GRAND DRAMA]
A grand spectacular drama, called the Marriage of the Ocean and the Earth,
extended over twelve consecutive evenings; the only plot was, however, the
presentation to each other by the betrothed couple of the vast treasures
at their disposal.
The Earth began by a grand show of tigers, lions, elephants, ostriches,
etc.--in a word, of all the big animals which our ancestor Noah took with
him into the ark. Then the Ocean, not to be outdone, paraded in his turn
his dolphins, his turtles, the vessels he had engulfed, his corals, and
great bunches of all the most wonderful growths of his submarine gardens.
All these marvels were, however, nothing but a prelude to the great final
surprise, when an enormous whale reeled into view, and as it flopped
about shot out a great volume of water over the whole stage. It would be
impossible to describe the enthusiastic delight of the spectators, who all
shouted like madmen. _Has! Hung haho!_ (excellent! perfect!) and if M.
Vaucher and I had not applauded too we should have been stoned.
The beautiful river on which Canton is built presented for many days a
most picturesque appearance. I could wish those of my readers who love
the marvellous, who enjoy looking at crowds and do not mind noise, no
better pleasure than to gaze, if but for a moment, upon the Pearl of the
East at this _féte_ of the protectress of those who do their business on
the great waters, thronged as its surface then is with junks dressed with
flags, brilliantly illuminated flower-boats, little vessels transformed
for the nonce into miniature pagodas, gliding mysteriously along as do
the gondolas of Venice. I was told that on these occasions more than one
lovely young Celestial maiden is worshipped in these pagodas of a day,
with a ritual very different from that of the public ceremony we had
witnessed at the shrine of the goddess.
[Sidenote: CANTON INDUSTRIES]
Canton consists of a great number of narrow streets, each house in
which is adorned with coloured signs, giving a very quaint and charming
appearance to the façades, especially of an evening, when the gilt
lettering on the red and black lacquer ground is lit up by the rays of
the setting sun. As was the case in European towns in mediæval times,
and is still customary in the Orient, each district of the city has its
own special industry, and is closed at nightfall by a bamboo barrier.
The cobblers' quarter seemed to me to be the most densely populated;
a great multitude of workers, naked to the waist, zealously plying
their trade, chattering like magpies the while. Close to the cobblers
live the coffin-makers, who are even noisier than their neighbours, and
quite as happy over their work. Yet another quarter dear to the lovers
of _bric-à-brac_, is sacred to the manufacture of porcelain, bronzes,
cloisonné enamels, beautifully lacquered or delicately carved boxes in
ebony, ivory, and other materials, plain and figured silks, etc., which
are sent to Hong-Kong for trans-shipment to Europe and America.
[Illustration: FIG. 20.--A CHINESE ACTOR IN A TRAGIC PART.]
You can of course get all these things without going all the way to China
for them, and they are to be seen in Paris in the Guimet and Cernuschi
Museums, and at various Oriental houses in London and New York. Many
Chinese are very wealthy, and keep for themselves and their heirs the art
treasures they buy or have inherited from their ancestors.
In spite of the fact that you can see Chinese curios at home, it would
be a pity to miss the pleasure of rummaging, in the shops. The owner
of those you enter will receive you with apparent cordiality, but at
the same time with a certain distrustful politeness, and you will be
carefully watched as you turn over the goods for sale. If you accept the
cup of tea which every merchant delights to offer to his visitors, and
you seem to appreciate the superior quality of the beverage, you will win
the golden opinion of the donor, for to the Celestial tea is a divine
plant. The drink made from it as a matter of fact quenches thirst better
than any other, not only in the heat of summer, but also in the extreme
cold of the heights of the Himalayas or of the desert of Gobi, where the
traveller is exposed to the icy blast of the north wind. From the east to
the west, from the north to the south of the vast Empire, we meet with the
hospitable tea-house; it is perhaps not quite such a fascinating place
as it is in Japan, but beneath its shelter the traveller is always sure
of finding the cheering beverage which will put new strength into him
for his further journey. There is not a Chinese poet who has failed to
sing the praises of the precious shrub. Even an illustrious Emperor wrote
directions in verse (reproduced below in dull prose) for the preparation
of a cup of tea, and described the salutary effect it has upon the mind:
"Put a tripod pot, the colour and form of which testifies to long
service, upon a moderate fire; fill this pot with the pure water
of melted snow, and heat this water to the degree needed for
turning fish white or crabs red, and then pour it at once into a cup
containing the tender leaves of a choice tea; leave it to simmer
until the steam, which will at first rise up copiously, forms thick
clouds which gradually disperse, till all that is left is a light
mist upon the surface; then sip the delicious liquor slowly; it
will effectually dissipate all the causes for anxiety which are
worrying you. You can taste, you can feel the peaceful bliss which
results from imbibing the liquid thus prepared, but it is perfectly
impossible to describe it. Already, however, I hear the ringing
of the curfew-bell; the freshness of the night is increasing; the
moonbeams penetrate through the slits in my tent, and light up the
few pieces of furniture adorning it. I am without anxiety and without
fatigue, my digestion is perfect; I can give myself to repose without
fear. These verses were written to the best of my small ability, in
the spring of the tenth month of the year Ping-yn (1746) of my reign.
(Signed) Khian-Lung."
[Sidenote: AN IMPERIAL TEA-MAKER]
The tea-plant is a shrub requiring very little care. A siliceous soil
suits it best, and in it it attains its fullest development. Great
quantities of seed are sown in September and October, and when the plants
are about nine inches high they are transplanted and placed about twenty
inches apart. When the leaves have reached their fullest development they
are gathered, carefully washed to remove any earth which may have clung
to them, and they are then exposed to the rays of the sun, the day chosen
for this part of the preparation being the very hottest in the year. In
the evening the dry leaves are taken up with every precaution against
injury, placed in boxes, and protected from the air by sheets of lead.
Millions of cases of tea thus packed are dispersed all over the world,
but it is needless to add that the Chinese keep the best leaves for their
own consumption. Green, or as they themselves call it, white tea, is put
into boxes directly it is picked, without any drying or other preparation,
and black tea is produced by placing the leaves in a brazier over a slow
fire, these leaves being constantly turned over with the hands by the men
in charge of them, to prevent them from sticking together or drying too
quickly. When taken from the brazier they are placed in a sieve and still
further manipulated, always with the greatest care and delicacy. Lastly,
they are once more exposed to heat in the brazier to give them the brown
colour so much esteemed by many consumers. It is in this last stage of the
preparation that the skill of the manipulator is put to the severest test,
for if the tea is too much burnt it will have no taste at all, and if it
is not sufficiently burnt it will be bitter and heating.
I forget now in whose house it was, but I was on one occasion stupid
enough, when the guest of a mandarin, to say I had once at the residence
of a clergyman drunk an excellent cup of tea mixed with rum and sweetened
with sugar.
"Sugar and rum!" cried my host, who was terribly shocked. "We must take
care not to offer our best teas to you, for you would certainly not be
able to appreciate them."
[Illustration: FIG. 21.--A VILLA NEAR CANTON.]
[Sidenote: THE FATIM GARDEN]
I stopped eight days at Canton; more than enough to visit everything worth
seeing in that now uninteresting city. I saw the endless rice-fields
stretching away beyond its gates; I went to look at the French concession,
where there is not a single French inhabitant, though the names of the
streets, such as the _Rue de la Fusée_, the _Rue de la Dordogne_, and
the _Rue de la Charente_, recall the vessels once manned by the brave
sailors who had for a brief time sojourned in this remote Chinese town.
One curiosity which every visitor to Canton ought to see, is the so-called
Fatim garden, where each tree represents some fantastic animal, and in
which prowl herds of pigs, more quaint in appearance than the shrubs
tended by pale-faced young bonzes wearing yellow garments.
The cemetery of Canton is of vast extent, and every year in the month of
May, the pious Celestials all flock to it in white robes, to lay offerings
of rice, fruit, and flowers on the graves of those they have lost. The
gifts would be left unmolested for a long time, but for the fact that they
are presented in the spring, just when countless birds are nesting in
the branches of the lofty bamboos growing in the neighbourhood, and who
consequently look upon the rice and fruit as provided especially for them.
It is not only after the death of those near and dear to them, that the
Chinese show the deep filial love for their parents which is one of their
most striking characteristics. The _Pekin Gazette_ gave a very touching
instance of this reverent affection, communicated to the official organ
of the Celestial Empire by the Governor of Schantung, which made such a
sensation that it reached the ears of the Emperor himself. Here is the
story:
A certain native of China, Li-Hsien-Ju by name, whose father had died at
Feï-Chang, immediately sold the piece of land he inherited in order to
give a grand funeral in honour of his beloved and lamented father. The
time of mourning had not yet expired when a terrible famine took place
in the town where the ceremonies were going on. Provisions became so
scarce and so dear, that Li-Hsien-Ju found himself quite unable to provide
properly for his aged mother, so he decided to carry her on his back to
another province where the ground was less sterile. This he did, begging
his way as he went, and supporting himself and his sacred charge on alms
alone.
[Sidenote: A DEVOTED SON]
This model son, laden as he was, actually traversed the fabulous distance
of four hundred French leagues, finally arriving at Honan, where he and
his mother settled down. A year after this the poor mother was taken ill,
and Li-Hsien-Ju, fearing that she might die in a strange land, of which
every Chinese has the greatest horror, resolved to take her home to her
native country in the same manner as he had brought her from it, so he
started back again with his sacred burden, begging his way once more. The
two got back again to Feï-Chang at last, but had scarcely reached their
home before the old mother died. It is impossible to tell how many nights
the heart-broken son spent on the tomb of the lost one, but we know that,
thanks to his pious efforts, the bones of his father were laid beside the
body of his mother. A few days after the death of the latter, the grief of
the orphan became so terrible that he wept tears of blood. He is now sixty
years old, but he still mourns for his parents, and in the month of May
when the _féte_ of the dead is held, he never fails to drag himself to the
cemetery and place upon the tomb, according to custom, a bowl of smoking
rice of gleaming whiteness.
There are no Monthyon prizes, such as those given by the French Academy
for acts of disinterested goodness, or surely this unselfish son would
have received one.
M. Vaucher and I went to visit the quay outside Canton, which was the
scene of the massacre of 100,000 Tai-Ping rebels, after the defeat
of Hung-Hsiu-ch'wan in 1865. The ferocious mandarin Yeh had them all
decapitated at the edge of the river Kwan-Tung, their heads falling into
the muddy stream. A Dutchman, who had belonged to a factory in Canton at
the time, told me that he witnessed the terrible scene from his window,
and had been greatly struck by the extraordinary composure with which the
victims met their fate. Motionless and with bowed heads they knelt at the
edge of the quay, awaiting the fatal stroke of the sword. "I had some
idea," added the Dutchman, "of sending the poor fellows some packets of
cigarettes to cheer their last moments, but I should have been completely
ruined, for their numbers increased every day."
The tragic story of the Tai-Ping rebellion, its extraordinary success
at first, and its final suppression under Gordon is well known. In the
two campaigns against the Tai-Pings, the future hero of Khartoum fought
no less than thirty-three battles, besieging and taking numerous walled
cities, and changing the whole history of the vast Celestial Empire. Had
the revolt been finally successful, as it at one time bid fair to be,
Hung, the enlightened leader, might have founded a new dynasty, and warded
off for a long time at least the dismemberment of the once vast Empire of
the East.
[Sidenote: A CHINESE PANTHEON]
My last visit was to the so-called Temple of the live hundred genii,
containing five hundred grotesque gilded statues, taller than life, and
of a surprising girth. We must not, however, make fun of them, for each
one represents some Celestial who has made his mark in art, science, or
philosophy. In France such a temple would be called a Pantheon, and that
is what it really is, a place set apart for the commemoration of the great
ones of the past.
In the Temple of the five hundred genii lived a beautiful little
water-snake, which a bonze of venerable appearance tended with reverent
care, feeding it on green frogs and cantharides. I tried to find out why
he set such store upon it, and the following story was told to me:
The river, from the banks of which rises the great city of Canton, often
overflows, and the inundations caused by the excess of water do a great
deal of mischief to the rice plantations. A young engineer was ordered
to construct an embankment, but he must have done his work badly, for
only a year after its completion the river again burst its bounds, and
the engineer in despair drowned himself in the waters he had failed to
control. Yet another inundation took place after his death, and in the
mud cast up by it upon the shore was found a little snake. By order of
the Viceroy the reptile was taken to the Temple of the five hundred
genii, and a miracle at once took place, for it had no sooner entered the
sacred precincts than the waters subsided. Every one attributed their
fall to gratitude for the kind welcome given to the little snake, and a
long memorial on the subject was addressed by the Viceroy to the Emperor,
which was at once published by the _Pekin Gazette_. An explanation
of the phenomenon was added, to the effect that the little snake was
really none other than the engineer who had committed suicide. There was
really nothing surprising in the matter, for of course by his death the
unfortunate young man had become a Chen-Ching-tung-Chang-chan, or divinity
of the river, and was anxious to repair the mistake made in his life-time
on earth, by exercising a benevolent influence over its waters now that he
had the power to do so.
After the miracle which had taken place on the entrance into the Temple
of the little snake, the people had proclaimed it to be the genius of the
water, and as such they venerated and cherished it!