I land at Shanghai--The Celestial who had never heard of Napoleon--Total
value of exports and imports to and from Shanghai--What those exports
and imports are--The devotion of the Chinese to their native land--The
true yellow danger of the future--I am invited to a Chinese dinner at
Shanghai--My yellow guests--The ladies find me amusing--Their small feet
and difficulty in walking--A wealthy mandarin explains why the feet are
mutilated--Sale of girls in China--Position of women discussed--A mandarin
accepts a Bible--Our host takes us to a flower-boat--Description of
boat--My first attempt at opium-smoking--A Celestial in an opium dream.
When I landed on the vast estuary from which rises up the important town
of Shanghai, I really could hardly believe I was but forty days' voyage
from Marseilles. Our world is no such big one after all, it is true, but
how many centuries it has taken to learn much about it! "Did you ever hear
of Napoleon?" I one day asked a Celestial, who had a shining glass button
on his cap. "Don't know whom you mean," he answered, with a bewildered
look, and there is not much doubt that if he had asked me about some
great Chinese Emperor, I should have been just as puzzled as he was. All
this will, however, ere long be changed, what with steam and electricity,
especially with electricity, which puts a girdle round the earth in a very
few minutes, fleet messenger that it is of peace, of war, of ruin, and of
fortune. When the various races of the earth know each other better, we
shall perhaps become more tolerant of each other, more interdependent, so
to speak, and that cannot fail to be an advantage for all concerned. When
a blow struck in the East is enough to shake the West to its foundations,
we shall think twice before we give that blow. The more frequent the
intercourse between the various races of the earth, the nearer we shall
be, in spite of many a bitter disappointment, to that era of universal
peace to which every nation has aspired in vain for so many centuries.
[Sidenote: EXPORTS AND IMPORTS]
Such were some of my reflections when I found myself for the first time
in the midst of the busy scenes on the quays of Shanghai, surrounded by
countless bales of silk and cases of tea waiting for embarkation for
the West from whence I came. Shanghai, as is well known, is the port of
entry of that great water highway of Western China, the Yang-tse, but it
is more than that, it is the commercial capital of the Celestial Empire,
for, as stated by Colquhoun in his _China in Transformation_, fifty-five
per cent, of the total value of the foreign imports at all the treaty
ports, and forty-eight per cent, of the exports to foreign countries pass
through the port of Shanghai. "Four years ago the value of the trade,
native and foreign, of this great emporium of the East was estimated at no
less than £35,772,006, and it has increased rather than decreased since
then. Several steamers have plied daily since 1860 between Shanghai and
Hankow, and some three thousand vessels, one-half of which are British,
enter the port every year. Silk and tea are the chief exports, after
which come cotton, rice, sugar, paper, tobacco, various drugs used as
medicines, cloth of native manufacture, wool, hemp, flower-seeds, fans,
and other fancy articles." The chief imports from abroad are cotton goods,
alcohol, opium, which is fortunately rapidly declining in amount, various
metals, and woollen stuffs. In 1896, France, whose trade with China takes
third rank amongst that of European nations, England coming first and
then Germany, exported goods to the value of one hundred and eighty-four
millions of francs, on which she paid one million five hundred thousand
francs duty. To set against this, French imports to China, including woven
materials, lace, wine, copper, and other goods, amounted to the value of
twenty-eight millions only; that is to say, one hundred and fifty-six
millions less than the exports. What an immense difference does this sum
represent between what China gave and what she received, and what a price
the Chinese paid for the privilege of dealing with the West! To this day
the Celestials, whose ports have been opened against their will by the
cannon of the British, aided by those of the French, give what they must
give to foreigners grudgingly; to use an expressive saying, there is no
love lost between them and those they trade with. They would like to take
all and give nothing in return. Those who are unfortunate enough to die
abroad will not allow their dust to aid in fructifying the soil of the
land of their exile, for their bodies are brought by steamers from San
Francisco, Peru, the Philippine Islands, Australia, and elsewhere, to
be buried in their native land, in the same last resting-place as that
of their ancestors, where their memory will be held sacred by their own
descendants. There is indeed something very pathetic and touching in the
intense devotion of the Chinese to their native land, in spite of their
ignorant readiness to leave it. They will make any sacrifice to ensure
burial at home, for they believe that there alone can the dead find true
repose.
When I was at Shanghai, I noted with some surprise what immense quantities
of bales of cotton were landed at the port. An Englishman with whom I had
some conversation told me these bales came from the East Indies, and that
the amount imported was continually on the increase. The Chinese aspire,
he added, to manufacturing cotton goods themselves, and if they should
succeed in overcoming their aversion to European methods of production,
the trade in stuffs will receive a severe blow. It is, however, greatly
in favour of British manufacturing interests that Western China is not
suitable to the cultivation of the raw material, so that the cotton for
making much of the clothing of the natives has all to be brought from
abroad. "Every traveller in the Upper Yang-tse," says Little in his
_Through the Yang-tse Gorges_, "is struck by the endless procession of
cotton-laden junks struggling up the successive rapids."
[Sidenote: YELLOW PERIL FOR THE FUTURE]
A more significant sign of the times and of the emancipation of many
of the Chinese from the trammels of tradition, even than the desire to
produce their clothes at home, is the willingness of traders and merchants
to settle in foreign towns. Not so very long ago the only Chinese met with
in Europe or America were the coolies who had emigrated on the conditions
described in a previous chapter. Now in London, in Paris, and in New York
are extensive depôts of tea, silk, and other exports from the Celestial
Empire kept by Chinese men of wealth, with a staff of their own yellow
countrymen. This fact represents the true yellow peril for European and
American merchants, for these merchants sell better goods at lower prices
than their foreign rivals, and the employers of labour will presently have
to contend in their own persons with a competition as keen and as unequal
as that hampering their workmen. The fact that the Chinese will work for
very much lower wages than those on which any white man can support life,
has long been a problem for those responsible for municipal government in
the States, but it is only lately that the monied classes have been, so to
speak, threatened with a similar danger in their own strongholds of trade
and commerce. If restrictions are not soon imposed upon the entry into
Paris and other great cities of Europe of these formidable rivals, we may
yet in our own life-time see the yellow-skins driven through the streets
before the bayonet and the revolver in our capitals, in much the same
fashion as they already have been in California and Australia. But when
all is said and done, have not Asiatics just as much right to rejoice in
the sunshine, such as it is, of the West as Europeans have to bask in that
of the East? Is not the life of a Tartar, a Mongol, or a Mandarin really
as sacred as that of a native of France or of England? It all depends on
the point of view.
[Illustration: FIG. 40.--A CHINESE RESTAURANT. AFTER THE REPAST.]
[Sidenote: AN INVITATION TO DINNER]
A wealthy American, who had been longer at Shanghai than any other
foreigner, invited me to dine with him at a celebrated Chinese restaurant,
and there I enjoyed the rare privilege of meeting several natives of high
rank. They came accompanied by their favourite concubines, their legal
wives being left at home; and the ladies were carried in their palanquins
right into the centre of the dining-room, where they got out. Dressed in
fresh and elegant costumes of light blue silk, and with their abundant
black hair decked with natural flowers, they really looked very pretty.
Their complexions, though far too much rouged, were delicate; and where
the natural hue had been left unchanged, almost white. Sitting at table
with them, I regretted very much that I could not say a word they would
understand, for they spoke neither French nor English, and I do not
understand Chinese. My host had, however, warned me to be very careful
not to be too polite to them even in dumb-show, for if their lords felt
the very smallest spark of jealousy I should most likely see all the
fair creatures take flight like a flock of frightened turtle-doves.
Their palanquins were waiting outside at the door of the restaurant,
ready for every contingency. The Celestials invited had only consented
to come to this dinner when they were assured that I should be leaving
Shanghai in a few days. Throughout the meal the women talked very little
amongst themselves, but I saw a smile of amusement on their lips when they
noticed my embarrassment at having to take something to which I was not
accustomed; such as pigeons' hearts with ginger, to drink spirit distilled
from rice out of little cups instead of glasses, and to pick up my food
with the ivory chop-sticks, which did duty for forks. None of the ladies
ate any meat, and they put nothing into their dainty mouths but perfumed
sweets or dried melon-seeds, which they picked up with their long, slim
fingers, disfigured by great claw-like nails, giving their hands a very
unpleasant, almost bestial appearance. The meal consisted of three
courses, during the serving of which vocal and instrumental music--oh,
such a lot of it!--was going on. When it was over, the young women rose,
and, still smiling, made their way out with difficulty on their poor
deformed feet, clutching at the table, the chairs, and the walls for
support as they limped to their luxurious palanquins. The last to leave
had feet so tiny I could hardly see them beneath her jonquil-coloured
silk breeches. I remarked on the small size of the poor girl's feet to a
corpulent Celestial with an intelligent face who was sitting beside me,
and he said with a loud laugh, "Very good thing for jealous husbands!"
[Sidenote: A BARBAROUS CUSTOM]
"Small feet are not merely a caprice of fashion then?" I observed.
"No, no!" was the reply. "The fact is, when in any family, whether rich
or poor, a girl-child is born, who is well formed and has good features,
giving great promise of beauty when she is fifteen years old, her feet
are subjected to close compression a few months after birth. You will
understand that it is her liberty to walk or run, and to get out of
the house, which is taken away from her at this early stage of her
existence.... Later, when her parents, if wealthy, wish to find a good
match for her, or if poor are anxious to sell her for a high price, her
small feet are always quoted as a proof of her value, and this privation
of liberty is considered a great point in her favour ... do you see?"
"What a barbarous custom!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, from the European point of view, but if you had asked any of the
girls who were at dinner just now, whether Hatai, Atma, Atoi, or Atchai,
each one would have replied that she did not regret the life that she
leads. If she had not been prepared in this way to be bought by some
wealthy Celestial, she would have been working in the rice-plantations
like a beast of burden; or would have had to spend her life with the
fisher-folk on the sea-shore, or in some wretched river-boat."
"How are these sales of women effected?" I inquired.
"Through the agency of brokers, and by formal contract. At this moment I
have a document in my pocket making me the owner from to-day of a young
girl of Tien-tsin. Would you like to see it?"
Of course I said yes, and he showed me the contract, of which I give a
verbatim translation:
"On account of the poverty of my family, I consent to sell my
daughter, aged fourteen years, to Tu-won-lan-hi, that he may provide
for and take care of her. On the twenty-fourth day of the sixth
moon, I received as complete payment for her the sum of eighty-five
piastres (about six pounds). The twenty-fourth day of the sixth month
of the sixteenth year of the reign of Kwang-Su.[4]
"_Signed:_ Thang Ting, father of the young girl;
"Madame Yap-Kang-Ko, go-between;
"Tchen-Tchen-Tchan, scribe charged
with drawing up the contract of sale."
[4] In China, the year of the reign is used instead of that of the
century, and a century there is only sixty years. According to Chinese
chronology, we are now in the thirty-fifth year of the seventy-sixth
century of the Christian era.
[Sidenote: POLYGAMY IN CHINA]
Having read and copied this document, I returned it to the owner, with the
remark, "So you can have as many women as it suits you to buy. In Egypt,
where polygamy seems as natural as it does to you, there is some limit put
upon the number of favourites in a harem, as the purchaser must prove that
he is rich enough to support her before he is allowed to buy a new wife.
How is it with you?"
"There is no similar restriction in China," was the reply. "Besides the
women we buy, more as a gratification to our pride than because we have
taken a fancy to them, there is the wife whom you in Europe would call the
legitimate partner. She is privileged above all the other women owned by a
man, and her children alone have the right of inheriting the property of
their father. We must have heirs to succeed us, and this is why we have no
scruple in repudiating a barren wife. The first of our other women to give
us a male child takes the place of the divorced wife, and the rest follow
suit, until we are sure of having quite a number of sons to honour our
memories when we are gone, just as I have honoured that of my own father.
You must not forget how very strong tradition is with us, and that which
we are now discussing dates further back than your own Biblical age. All
innovation is displeasing to us.... A few years ago the friend who gave
us a dinner this evening, put me into communication with a Protestant
clergyman, who had just arrived from England, and was consumed with a
desire to make proselytes. Out of politeness, I listened for several days
to what he had to say, and I even accepted the gift of a Bible from him. I
set to work to read it with the greatest attention. To begin with, I was
very much surprised to find how young the world was made out to be in it,
for I had learnt from our bonzes that at the time when Abraham was born,
China was already old--very, very old--so I put the Bible aside. Was I not
right, seeing that it taught me nothing new?"
"No," I replied, "you should have read on till you came to the New
Testament, for in it you would have found that man is not meant to live
in a state of debasing immobility, and that woman has a very different
mission to fulfil than that of the mere beast of burden, or concubine you
make of her in China."
Fortunately, perhaps, for the conversation was becoming rather
acrimonious, our host interrupted us by inviting us to go with him to a
_féte_ which was being given in the harbour by a mandarin friend of his,
a great opium-smoker, and owner of what in the Celestial Empire by a
chivalrous euphemism is called a "Flower Boat."
[Sidenote: ON A FLOWER BOAT]
A few vigorous strokes from the oars of our boatmen brought us alongside
a junk riding at anchor in the open roadstead of Shanghai. The interior,
draped with scarlet damask, was brilliantly illuminated by means of an
immense number of dainty little lanterns, beneath which hung cages filled
with birds, whilst other cages upheld glass globes where red fish, with
long golden tails and transparent fins, disported themselves, their size
fantastically exaggerated by the medium through which we watched their
graceful movements. Very finely-woven mats of gleaming cleanliness covered
the floors, and curtains of embroidered silk slightly raised hung at the
entrances to the cabins, half concealing, half revealing, the mysterious
recesses within. I went into one of these retreats, and there in the
centre of the room I saw seated round a table, loaded with flowers, a
number of pale-faced Chinamen, each with a fan in his hand, with several
richly-dressed women (all, as usual, too much rouged), who were sipping
tea together or nibbling sweetmeats to the accompaniment of a guitar. I
noted also a couch of satin, without mattress or palliasse, but with a
pillow consisting of a cylinder of red chequered cardboard, and not far
from the couch a fragile bamboo table, on which were placed a metal pipe,
a box of opium, and the little lamps indispensable to the smokers of the
drug.
I was presented to the mandarin, who was giving the entertainment, and
found him to be a man of very dignified appearance. He had lived for a
long time at Hong-Kong, and spoke a little English. He was very anxious to
perform his duties of host properly with regard to me, but did not find it
very easy.
"What will you take?" he and the gentleman who had brought me kept saying
one after the other.
A queer fancy took possession of me all of a sudden, and I replied that I
should like to smoke some opium.
"Well, then," was the answer, "will you go into that cabin?" He clapped
his hands, and a servant ran in to light the lamps.
When this was done, my host said: "I will send you a little tea as well,
in case the opium should not suit you. I suppose it is the first time you
have ever smoked it."
The tea was placed ready to my hand, and I was left alone, the curtain
falling as the servant retired. I then smoked my first pipe, and found
the flavour of it detestably nasty. I now stretched myself in the couch,
laid my head upon the hard glazed roll of cardboard, which did duty as a
pillow, and closed my eyes. After a few minutes of anything but pleasant
meditation, I suddenly felt very unwell, and looked about me distractedly.
Seeing a porthole close to me, I put my head through it, hoping that the
fresh air would cool my burning forehead, but the sight of the black water
of the harbour, and the dreary sound of its surging up and down, made me
worse, so I quickly drew back and lay down again, determined to persevere.
At the end of a quarter of an hour I had smoked two more pipes, and then I
issued from my cabin with a very vague idea about my own sensations, but
feeling like a man suddenly overtaken by giddiness, or seized with violent
sea-sickness.
[Sidenote: A HAPPY DREAM]
My Yankee friend hastened to my assistance, but before he saw me off the
boat, he took me to have a look at the stout Chinaman with whom I had had
a discussion about the Bible. He was alone in a smoking-den, just like the
one I had used. His face was ghastly pale, his eyes were widely distended,
and he was gazing at the waves with an expression of terror, whilst his
features were bathed in perspiration.... He was wrapt in a dream--a happy
dream, no doubt--though his looks belied it, for surely so many Asiatics
would not smoke the opium which brings the dreams if they were not happy!
[Illustration: FIG. 41.--A CHINESE JUNK.]