A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
Canton is, to foreigners, probably the best‐known and most frequently
visited city of China. Its proximity to, and ready accessibility
from Hong Kong, whence it is easily reached by a line of large river
steamers, renders it a favourite place with travellers to the East to
spend a portion of the time the mailboats usually stop in the English
harbour. A small colony of Europeans, consuls and merchants of several
nationalities, reside in its foreign settlement. Its considerable trade
and its occupation by the Allies after the war of 1856‐7 directed much
attention to it. Owing to its easy access, no other city in the Chinese
Empire has been so frequently described by European writers. Rudyard
Kipling, in his fascinating “From Sea to Sea,” paints a marvellous
word‐picture of the life in its crowded streets. But it is so bound up
with the interests of Hong Kong, its constant menace to our colony,
and the suspected designs of French aggression, that still something
new may be said about it. Despite its constant trade intercourse with
Europeans, Canton remains anti‐foreign. Its inhabitants have not
forgotten or forgiven its capture and occupation by the English and
French in the past. After the Boxer movement in the North in 1900,
many fears were entertained in Hong Kong lest a still more formidable
outbreak against foreigners in the South might be inaugurated by the
turbulent population of the restless city. The Europeans in Canton
sent their families in haste to Hong Kong and Macao; wealthy Chinamen
transferred their money to the banks in the former place; gunboats
were hurried up; and the garrison of our island colony stood ready.
The history of Canton’s intercourse with foreigners dates as far back
as the eighth century. Two hundred years later it was visited by Arab
traders, who were instrumental in introducing Mohammedanism, which
still remains alive in the city. In 1517 Emmanuel, King of Portugal,
sent an ambassador with a fleet of eight ships to Pekin; and the
Chinese Emperor sanctioned the opening of trade relations with Canton.
The English were much later in the field. In 1596, during the reign of
Elizabeth, our first attempt to establish intercourse with China ended
disastrously, as the two ships despatched were lost on the outward
voyage. The first English vessel to reach Canton arrived there in
1634. In the light of the present state of affairs in the East, it is
curious to note that an English ship which visited China in 1673 was
subsequently refused admittance to Japan. In 1615 the city was captured
by the Tartars.
About half a century later the famous East India Company established
itself under the walls of Canton, and from there controlled the foreign
trade for nearly one hundred and fifty years. After much vexatious
interference by the native authorities, the influence of the Company
was abolished early in the nineteenth century. The conduct of the
Chinese Government as regards our commerce led to our declaring war in
1839. In 1841 a force under Sir Hugh (afterwards Lord) Gough surrounded
Canton and prepared to capture it. But negotiations were opened by
the Chinese, which ended in their being allowed to ransom the city
by the payment of the large sum of six million dollars. The war was
transferred farther north and ended with the Nanking Treaty of August,
1842, which threw open to foreign trade the ports of Shanghai, Ning‐po,
Foochow, and Amoy. It was further stipulated that foreigners were to
be permitted to enter the city of Canton. This provision, however, the
Chinese refused to carry out. More vexatious quarrels and an insult to
the British flag by the seizure of a Chinaman on the _Arrow_, a small
vessel sailing under our colours, led to a fresh war in 1856. The
outbreak of hostilities was followed by the pillaging and destruction
of the “factories” of the foreign merchants in Canton by an infuriated
mob in the December of that year. In 1857 the city was taken by storm
by a force under Sir Charles Straubenzee. For four years afterwards it
was occupied by an English and French garrison. The affairs of the
city were administered by three allied commissioners—two English and
one French officer—under the British General. They held their court in
the Tartar General’s Yamen, part of which is still used by the English
Consul for official receptions. Since the allied garrison was withdrawn
Canton has been freely open to foreigners.
On the conclusion of peace it was necessary to find a settlement for
the European merchants whose factories had been destroyed. It was
determined to fill in and appropriate an extensive mud‐flat lying
near the north bank of the river and south‐west of the city. This
site having been leased, was converted into an artificial island by
building a massive embankment of granite and constructing a canal, 100
feet wide, between the northern face and the adjacent Chinese suburb.
The ground thus reclaimed measures about 950 yards in length and 320
yards broad in its widest part. It is in shape an irregular oval, and
is called Shameen, or, more proper, Sha‐mien, _i.e._ sand‐flats. The
island is divided into the English and the French Concessions. On it
the consulates and the residences of the foreign merchants are built.
The canal is crossed by two bridges, called respectively the English
and the French, which can be closed by gates. They are guarded by the
Settlement police. The cost of making the island amounted to 325,000
dollars (Mex.); of which the English Government paid four‐fifths and
the French one‐fifth. At first foreigners hesitated to occupy it; but
after the British Consulate was erected in 1865, our merchants began to
build upon it with more confidence.
The journey from Hong Kong to Canton is very comfortably performed
on the commodious shallow‐draught steamers that ply between the two
cities. I left the island one afternoon with a party of friends. The
scenery along the rugged coast and among the hilly islands to the flat
delta at the mouth of the estuary with its countless creeks, still
haunted by pirates, is charming. As we steamed up the river we could
see, moving apparently among the fields, the huge sails of junks which
in reality were sailing on the canals that intersect the country. After
dinner I sat on deck with a very charming companion and watched the
shadowy banks gliding past in the moonlight. Turning in for the night
in a comfortable cabin, I slept until eight o’clock next morning, and
awoke to find the steamer alongside the river bank at Canton.
The scene from the deck was animated and picturesque. On one side lay
the crowded houses and grim old walls of the city. The wharves were
thronged with bustling crowds. On the other, beyond the island suburb
of Honam, the country stretched away in cultivation to low hills in the
distance. The river was thronged with countless covered boats; for the
floating population of Canton amounts to about a quarter of a million
souls, and the crowded sampans lying in a dense mass on the water form
a separate town from the city on the land. It is almost self‐containing
and its inhabitants ply every imaginable trade. Peddlers of food,
vegetables, fruit, pots, pans, and wares of all kinds paddled their
boats along and shouted their stock‐in‐trade. Here and there a sampan
was being extricated with difficulty from the closely packed mass, its
crew earning voluble curses from their neighbours as they disentangled
their craft and shot out into the stream.
I gazed over the steamer’s side at the crowded wharf. Chinese or
half‐caste Portuguese Customs officers rapidly scanned the baggage of
the pig‐tailed passengers as they landed, now and then stopping one and
making him open the bundles he carried. Opium‐smuggling is the chief
thing they guard against, for Hong Kong is a free port.
The city of Canton lies on the north bank of the Pearl River, about
seventy or eighty miles from the sea. It is surrounded by an irregular
masonry wall, twenty‐five feet high, twenty feet thick, and six or
seven miles in circumference. This fortification is by no means as
strong as the famous Wall of the Tartar city in Pekin and could be
easily breached by the fire of heavy guns. Good artillery positions are
to be found all round. A few miles north of the city lie hills rising
1,200 feet above the river. As the southern wall is only a few hundred
yards from the bank, it could be destroyed and the city bombarded
without difficulty by gunboats, some of which—English, French, and
German—are nearly always lying off Shameen. The Chinese, however, are
reported to be quietly erecting modern, well‐armed forts around the
city; but were a powerful flotilla once anchored opposite it, it would
be doomed.
Canton is divided into the old and the new city. The latter, the
southern enclosure, was added in 1568, extending the ramparts almost
to the river bank. The wall of the older portion still divides the two
as in Pekin. On the north this wall rises to include a hill. On the
other three sides Canton is surrounded by a ditch, which is filled by
the rising tide. There are twelve outer gates and four in the partition
wall. Two water‐gates admit boats along a canal which pierces the new
city east and west. The gates are closed at night; and in the daytime
soldiers are stationed near them to preserve order. As the policing of
the city is very bad, the inhabitants of streets and wards frequently
join in maintaining guards for the protection of their respective
quarters.
The old city, which is very much the larger of the two, contains most
of the important buildings. In it are the yamens of the Viceroy, the
Major‐General, the Treasurer, the Chancellor, the Tartar General and
Major‐General, and of the British Consul, as well as the prisons, the
Examination Hall, the pagodas, and the numerous temples, of which
there are over 120 in or about Canton. The streets number over 600 in
both cities.
In the new town facing the river is the French Missions Roman Catholic
Cathedral, a beautiful building of the perpendicular Gothic style of
architecture with lofty spires. It is embellished with magnificent
stained‐glass windows and polished teak‐wood carvings. It is built on
the site of the old residence of the Governor‐General, destroyed during
the bombardment by the Allies.
On the south, west, and east sides of the city and across the river
on Honam Island, suburbs have sprung up, and including them it has a
circumference of nearly ten miles. The houses stretch for four miles
along the river; and the banks of boats extend for four or five miles.
Out in the stream may often be seen huge junks 600 to 1,000 tons
burden, which trade with the North and the Straits Settlements.
In 1874 the population of Canton was 1,500,000, including the floating
town of 230,000, and the inhabitants of Honam 100,000. The number has
probably largely increased.
Going ashore we installed ourselves in long‐poled open chairs, borne
by energetic coolies. As they went along rapidly at a shambling
half‐trot, they shouted loudly to the lounging crowds to clear the
way. Into the network of narrow streets in the city we plunged. The
houses are different to those in Pekin. They are generally of more
than one story, well built of brick, with thick walls and verandahs
along the fronts of the upper floors. The shops have little frontage,
but extend far back. The streets, paved with stone or brick, are
darkened by overhead reed matting, supported by wooden frames, which
stretch across them to shade them from the sun. So narrow are even the
principal thoroughfares that two chairs can hardly pass each other.
With much shouting and sing‐song abuse the coolies carrying one are
forced to back into the nearest shop and let the other go by. The
vistas along these narrow, shaded streets, with their long, hanging,
gilt‐lettered sign‐boards—red, white, or black—are full of quaint
charm. The busy crowds of Chinese foot passengers hurry silently along,
their felt‐soled shoes making no sound on the pavement. Contrary to
what I had always heard of them, the Canton populace struck me as not
being so insolent or hostile to Europeans as they are reputed. As our
chairs moved along, the bearers thrusting the crowds aside with scant
ceremony, very little notice was taken of us. A few remarks were made
by the bystanders, which one of our party, who spoke Cantonese, told me
were anything but complimentary. But all that day throughout the city I
found the demeanour of the people much less offensive than a Chinaman
in the lower quarters of London would.
The shops were filled with articles of European manufacture. Clocks,
cloth, oleographs, lamps, kerosene oil tins, even sewing‐machines were
for sale. Eating‐houses, tea shops, stalls covered with the usual weird
forms of food, raw or cooked, abounded. The Chinaman has a catholic
taste. Horseflesh, dogs, cats, hawks, owls, sharks’ fins, and birds’
nests are freely sold in Canton for human consumption. Carpenters were
busy making the substantial furniture to be found in almost every
Chinese house. Blacksmiths and coppersmiths added the noises of their
trades to the din that resounded through the narrow streets. Peddlers
with their wares spread about them on the ground helped to choke the
congested thoroughfares. Beggars shouted loudly for alms and drew the
attention of the passers‐by to their disgusting sores and deformities.
Canton is famous for its ivory carvers and the artists in the beautiful
feather work, the making of which seems to be confined to this city.
As I wished to purchase some specimens of this unique art, our party
stopped at an establishment famed for its production. The shop was
lofty but dark. The owner came forward to receive us, and spread on the
counter a large selection of ornaments for our inspection. Trinkets
of all kinds, lace‐pins, pendants, brooches were exhibited, all
evidently made for European purchasers. The designs were very pretty.
Large butterflies shone with the reflected lights and golden lustre of
the beautiful green and blue plumage of the kingfisher. Tiny fishes
delicately fashioned, birds of paradise, flowers were all reproduced
in flimsy gold or silver work. Learning that I was anxious to see the
process of the manufacture, the proprietor led me over to watch one
of the workmen who sat around busily employed. On a metal ground‐work
with raised edges and lines the feathers are fastened to reproduce
the colours of the designs. With nimble fingers and delicate pincers
the tiny strips of plumage are laid on and cemented. Keen sight is
required for the work; and the proprietor told me that the eyes of the
workmen engaged in it soon fail. It takes five years for an apprentice
to thoroughly learn the art; and after he has laboured at it for two
years more his vision becomes so obscured that he has to give it up
and seek some other occupation. It is little wonder; for the shops in
these narrow, shaded streets are always dark, and the artificial light
generally used is furnished only by the cheapest European lamps. The
prices of the various articles are very moderate, when one considers
the delicacy and beauty of the work. Butterflies an inch across can be
purchased for two or three dollars.
Our next visit was paid to the workers in ivory. Here, in a
similarly dark shop, men were employed in carving most exquisitely
delicate flowers, scenes, and figures. Brushes, mirror‐frames, fans,
glove‐stretchers, penholders, card‐cases, and boxes of all sizes were
being fashioned and adorned. I was particularly interested in the
making of those curious Chinese puzzle‐balls, which contain one within
another a dozen or more spheres, all down to the innermost one covered
with beautiful carvings which can be seen through the round holes
pierced in the sides. The owner of the shop showed me an apprentice
learning how to make them and practising on an old billiard ball.
Holes are drilled down to the depth which will be the circumference
of the second outermost ball. A graving tool, hooked like a hoe, is
introduced into them and worked round until there is a complete solid
sphere detached inside. It is then carved in designs, every part being
reached by turning the ball round until each portion of the surface has
come opposite one of the holes through which the carving instrument can
reach it. Then a similar process is gone through at a greater depth
from the outside, which gives the third outermost sphere; and so on
until the innermost ball is reached, which is carved and left solid.
There are sometimes as many as twenty‐four of these graduated spheres.
To one who has never seen how they are made it seems impossible to
understand how these balls within balls are carved. Sections of
elephants’ tusks lay about in the shop to prove to the customers that
only real ivory is employed; but bone is often used in the making of
cheaper articles.
In this trade, too, good sight is necessary; and the proprietor of
this establishment told me that the eyes of his workmen soon give out.
Here, again, the bad light was responsible. In Kioto, in Japan, I have
watched men engaged in damascene or inlay work in dingy attics lighted
only by small, smoky oil lamps, and was not surprised to learn that
their sight did not last long.
We next inspected some embroidery shops, where specimens of wonderful
work, both new and old, were to be seen. The latter come chiefly from
the numerous pawnshops, the tall towers of which rise everywhere
throughout the city; for they receive annually large quantities of
old garments, sold by members of ancient but impoverished families
who are forced to part with the wardrobes that have come down to them
through many generations. Magnificent mandarins’ state costumes may be
obtained for from forty to eighty or a hundred dollars. Some of the
embroidery is undoubtedly antique and valuable; but a good deal of it
sold as old consists of new and inferior substitutions and even of
European‐manufactured imitations of the real article. This the white
man in his innocence buys and goes on his way rejoicing, until some
connoisseur among his female friends points out his error and leaves
him abashed at his own ignorance.
Porcelain, jade, blackwood furniture, silk, bronze, and curio shops
abound in the city. The contrast between the energetic, business‐like
tradesmen of Canton, always ready to cater for the European market, and
the phlegmatic shopkeepers of Pekin is very marked.
[Illustration: THE CANGUE]
We now visited the Flowery Forest Monastery or Temple of the Five
Hundred Genii, which is said to have been founded in A.D.
500, and which was rebuilt some forty years ago. It stands outside the
western wall of the city. It comprises many buildings and courts; but
the most interesting portion is the hall, which contains the images of
the five hundred disciples of Buddha. The statues are life‐size. Their
countenances are supposed to represent the supreme content of Nirvana;
but their weird and grotesque expressions and the air of jollity and
devil‐may‐careness on some of them is unintentionally ludicrous. Among
the images is one said to represent Marco Polo, one of the earliest
pioneers of discovery in the East. No one knows why the celebrated
Italian traveller is included among the immortals.
A more interesting sight was the prison in the old city. On a stone
outside the open gate sat a criminal weighted down with the _cangue_,
a heavy board fastened round the neck. It prevents the luckless wearer
from using his hands to feed himself or brush away the tormenting
swarms of flies which settle on his face. He cannot reach his mouth,
and must starve unless a relative or some charitable person can be
found to give him food. As the _cangue_ is never removed night or day
he cannot lie down, but is forced to sit on the ground and prop himself
against a wall and snatch what sleep he can in that uncomfortable and
constrained position. I must say that this particular gentleman seemed
very indifferent to his wooden collar. He was chatting pleasantly with
some passers‐by in the street and turned his head to survey us with
mild curiosity. The _cangue_, by the way, is only a minor penalty used
for thieves, petty larcenists, and such small fry. For the punishment
of graver crimes much more elaborate tortures have been reserved. As
we passed into the prison we saw a few offenders chained to iron bars
in the outer court. A Chinese warder unlocked a gate leading into a
small yard crowded with prisoners, who rushed towards us and insolently
demanded alms; for the Government waste no money in feeding their
criminals who are obliged to rely on the kindness of the charitable.
One particularly cheeky youth—a pickpocket, I was told—coolly
demanded the cigar I was smoking. When I gave it to him he put it in
his mouth and strutted up and down the yard to the amusement of his
companions in misfortune. His gratitude was not overpowering, for he
uttered some remarks, which my Cantonese‐speaking friend told me were
particularly insulting. As the prisoners became very troublesome in
their noisy demands, the warder pushed them back into the yard and shut
the gate, having to rap some of them over the knuckles with his keys
before he could do so. There were no especial horrors to be seen. The
prisoners seemed cheerful enough; and none of the awful misery I had
always associated with Chinese jails was apparent.
But when the Celestial authorities wish to punish an offender severely
they have a varied and ingenious collection of tortures on hand. The
_ling‐chi_, or death of a thousand cuts, is hardly to be surpassed
for fiendish cruelty. The unfortunate criminal is turned over to the
executioner, who stabs him everywhere with a sharp sword, carefully
avoiding a vital spot. Then he cuts off fingers, toes, hands, feet,
arms, and legs in succession, and finally severs the head, if the
unhappy wretch has not already expired. If the doomed man is possessed
of money he can bribe the executioner to kill him at the first blow;
and the subsequent mutilations are performed only on a lifeless corpse.
Another ingenious device is to place the criminal naked in a net and
trice it up tightly around him, until his flesh bulges out through the
meshes. Then, wherever it protrudes the executioner slices it off with
a sharp knife. The unhappy wretch is taken back to prison, released
from the net and thrown into a cell. No attempt is made to staunch the
blood or salve the wounds unless death is feared. This must be averted;
for a week or so later he has to be brought out again and the process
repeated. Along the river bank near Canton criminals were exposed in
cages, through the top of which their heads protruded in such a fashion
that the weight of the body was supported only by the chin and neck.
The feet did not touch the bottom of the cage, but a sharp spike was
placed to rest them on when the strain on the neck became unendurable.
Here the poor wretches were left to expire of exhaustion or die of
starvation. After such tortures beheading seems a merciful punishment.
When I considered the Chinaman’s innate love of cruelty, I could
understand why the next spot we visited was a very popular place of
worship and a favourite resort for all the loafers of the city. It
was the Temple of Horrors. Along each side of the principal court ran
sheds, divided by partitions. In them behind wooden palings was a weird
collection of groups of figures modelled to represent the various
punishments of the Buddhist hell. The sheds were dark and it was
difficult to see the interiors plainly. But quite enough was visible.
In one compartment a couple of horrible devils were sawing a condemned
wretch in two. In another, demons were thrusting a man into a huge
boiler. Judging from the agonised expression on his face, the water
must have been uncomfortably warm. In a third, the condemned soul or
body was being ground in a press. Others were being roasted before huge
fires, stuck all over with knives, having their eyes gouged out, being
torn limb from limb. I fancy that the artist who designed these groups
could have commanded a large salary as Inventor of Tortures from the
Chinese authorities of his day.
Another place of interest is the Examination Hall, where every
three years candidates from all parts of China assemble to compete
for Government appointments. Young men and old, boys of eighteen and
dotards of eighty, attend, eager to grasp the lowest rung of the
official ladder which may lead them, though with soiled hands, to
rank and wealth. The coveted buttons which mark the various grades of
mandarin are here dangled before their eyes.
When one reflects that success in these competitions will lead to
posts, not only as magistrates, but also as officers in the army, as
officials of modern‐equipped arsenals, of departments of customs and
telegraphs, or to positions which will bring them into contact with
foreigners, one naturally thinks that the previous course of studies
of the candidates will have fitted them for such appointments. Far
from it. At the examinations a single text from Confucius or some
other ancient author is set as a subject for a lengthy essay. For
twenty‐four hours or longer the candidates are shut up in their cells
to expand upon it. The examiners then read the result of their labours
and recommend them on their proficiency in composition and acquaintance
with the ancient classics of China. Even an English university
curriculum is better fitted to equip a student for success in the world.
The Examination Hall consists of rows of closely‐packed lanes of small
brick cells (about 12,000 in number) running at right angles off a long
paved causeway, which is approached through an archway called the
Dragon Gate. At the far end of this causeway are apartments for the
examiners—twelve in number, two chiefs and ten juniors—who have been
sent from Pekin. Quarters are also provided for the Viceroy and the
Governor of the province, who are both obliged to be present during the
examinations. The cells in which the candidates are immured are 6 feet
high, 5½ feet long, and less than 4 feet broad, and open only on to
the narrow lanes between the rows of sheds. From a high tower strict
watch is kept to prevent any collusion between the competitors.
Tired of sight‐seeing, our party now returned to the river and crossed
into Shameen by the small English Bridge spanning the canal between
island and shore. A good lunch at the pretty little hotel prepared us
for a stroll around the foreign settlement.
Shameen is now a pretty island with fine avenues of banyan trees,
charming gardens, a row of excellent tennis‐courts, and handsome,
well‐built houses, the residences of the foreign consuls and merchants.
A tree‐shaded promenade lined the southern bank along the river.
Moored to the shore were several English, American, French, and German
gunboats. Their flags and the European‐looking houses made us almost
forget that we were still within a stone’s‐throw of a large Chinese
city. But the swarms of sampans, the curious country‐boats moved by
stern‐wheels worked by men on a treadmill‐like contrivance, the banging
of crackers and booming of gongs in a temple behind the island recalled
us to the remembrance. We walked along by the river bank, crossed the
canal by the French Bridge, and returned on board our steamer.
Canton, with its acres of crowded houses, its old walls, and ancient
shrines, is a curious contrast to modern, up‐to‐date Hong Kong. Yet
each in its way is equally alive and humming with busy trade, for the
Chinese city exports and imports largely. It is the channel through
which the commerce of Europe flows in and the products of China
find their way out to the foreign markets. It manufactures largely
glassware, pottery, metal work, paper, blackwood furniture, preserved
ginger, medicine, etc. It is the granary and supply depôt of Hong Kong.
The Cantonese merchants are keen business men and cater largely for
the European customer. Nearly all the native silver work, embroidery,
silks, and curios in the large shops of our colony come from Canton.
The focus of trade with Southern China, the proposed terminus of the
railway to Kowloon, the food‐supplier of Hong Kong, its development and
retention in Chinese hands is of vast importance to English commerce.
The French are freely credited with designs upon it. Their determined
efforts to firmly establish their own influence there and displace
the British favour the suspicion. In their Concession on Shameen
they have established, without the consent of China, their own post
office, where they use their colonial stamps surcharged “Canton.” Their
gunboats anchor where they like in the river, the commanders calmly
ignoring the efforts of the Chinese officials to restrict them to the
part allotted to foreign warships. On the occurrence of any outrages
on their subjects or the converts of their missionaries, the French
consuls act with energy and determination. When any such happen in the
vicinity of Canton or up the West River, not content with complaints
or remonstrances to the Chinese authorities, which usually have little
effect, they insist on immediate redress. They generally accompany in
person the official deputed to proceed to the scene of the outrage
and investigate the affair. This energetic conduct is in marked
contrast to the supineness of some of our consuls. A late British
representative aroused much disgust among naval and military officers
and our merchants by his want of resolution and his tender regard for
Chinese susceptibilities. When one of our gunboats was fired on up
the river, its commander immediately reported the matter to him. Our
official feebly remonstrated with the authorities, and instructed the
commander to return with his ship to the village near the scene of the
outrage and fire off a Maxim into the river‐bank! This was to show the
misguided peasantry of what the gunboat was capable, if action were
necessary. As the Orientals respect only those who can use as well
as show their power, the Chinese are not much impressed with us. The
contrast between our forbearance and the determined conduct of the
French is too marked. Their gunboats patrol the rivers and show the
flag of their country everywhere. Their efforts seem directed towards
spreading the region of their influence inland from the south to
meet the Russian sphere in the north. This is to cut us off from our
possessions in Burma and prevent any British railway being constructed
from that country to the eastern coast of China, thus tapping the
hitherto undeveloped resources of the interior.
An attack on Canton from the sea would be a far more difficult task
now than formerly. The Bogue forts on the Pearl River, up which an
invading flotilla must force its way, have been modernised and re‐armed
with powerful guns. Hills are found within easy range of the river,
from which the gunboats and shallow‐draught vessels, which alone
could attempt the passage, could be shelled at a range precluding
any response from their feebler weapons. And the Chinese gunners are
not all to be despised, as Admiral Seymour’s column and the gallant
defenders of Tientsin found to their cost.
The land approach would not be much easier. The country near the mouth
of the river is intersected by creeks and canals. Even farther up, no
roads are available for wheeled transport. An advance from the British
territory of the Kowloon Hinterland would probably be preferable to
a landing on the coast, though the route is longer. The hills beyond
Samchun might prove a formidable barrier; but those once passed
the difficulties would not be insuperable. The inhabitants of the
southern provinces are not warlike; and the troops there have not been
reorganised and disciplined like some in the north.