One morning some of my party were standing by the window of a friend’s
house in Canton which overlooks the canal with its brown water and
crowd of sampans. As they watched the different phases of domestic life
in those habitations, one of the party, familiar with them, remarked
that there was probably a wedding, or rather the festivities attendant
upon a wedding, in one of the nearest sampans, as she had heard a
young woman wailing the night before. She said it is a custom with
Chinese brides to pass the night before their weddings in bewailing
their future troubles; for as they seldom see their intended masters
before the wedding, there is great uncertainty in connection with their
new mode of life; generally it is going from one form of servitude into
one to which they had not grown accustomed. There seems to be no real
wedding ceremony, but a feast and a sort of reception for three days.
During that time the young couple perform some acts of devotion before
the ancestral tablets. After that the bridegroom takes his partner to
his father’s boat, where she cooks the rice, scrubs, and helps row for
the rest of her life.
The young ladies thought that they would go to the reception.
Accordingly, eight of them crowded into the sampan (being told that no
cards were used) and sat in Turkish fashion on the nice floor. The
bride came before them in a red dress, saluted them, then brought in
a tray of square cakes, which had been made with peanut oil. She then
gave them tea in small cups such as children play with. They considered
that as the tea was made with the foul water of the canal occupied by
a crowd of sampans, it could not be in the highest degree tasteful. As
they went out they were told that the adjoining boat was the home of
the bridegroom’s father, where the bride would the next day find her
home. A roasted pig with its garniture of herbs was exposed on deck,
but it did not awaken any desire.
“GODS MANY.”
We were greatly favored, through the influence of Archdeacon Gray, in
having the rare privilege of being admitted to the bedchamber of “the
god of Walled Cities.” We climbed up antique, decayed stairs, into a
forlorn room, not so inviting as apartments in some barns at home.
There was the huge god, six feet in height; his slippers were at the
side of his bed; his garments were on pegs; the wash-stand was there,
with its furniture, and the water was poured into the bowl ready for
use. His Majesty was of wood, fantastically painted. We were taken
into his wife’s apartment, which was the next room. There women resort
to make petitions with vows, promising the goddess a new dress, for
example, if their prayer is heard.
In several temples we saw men consulting the gods in some affairs of
interest to them. Kneeling and touching the ground with the forehead
nine times, they would then take a long box of sticks, each with a
number inscribed on it, shake it till a stick fell out, which was then
handed to the priest, who consulted a book, and told the petitioner the
answer to his prayer.
We came in one temple to the “Chamber of Horrors.” There in ten cells
were depicted the torments awaiting the wicked in the next world.
In the tenth the victims were coming out in the shape of hideous
wild animals, the blessed dead on eminences around looking down with
various expressions on their faces. We came also to the “Temple of
the Five Genii,”--Fire, Earth, Water, Wood, and Metals. These Genii
originally came to the city on five rams, which were turned to stone,
for perpetuity, and remain there to this day, uncouth, almost shapeless
blocks. A tower, said to be six hundred years old, stands in honor
of them. The large bell covered with Chinese characters is doomed to
silence; for there is a tradition that if struck, some great misfortune
would fall upon the city. A visitor inadvertently striking it would
excite consternation among the people. During a siege of Canton a
piece of the bell was knocked out of it by a cannon-ball.
While we were detained in a temple by rain, the Buddhist priests showed
us much kindness, setting a table in the courtyard overlooking a sheet
of water, and giving us clear tea in little cups, on trays having each
compartments filled with dried fruits. It seemed strange to be “sitting
at meat in an idol’s temple.” While we were there, the priests descried
the sunshades which some of the party had brought with them. Their
amusement was not exceeded by any pleasure manifested by children at
the sight of new things. They opened them, they shut them, turned them
over and over, held them over one another, explaining to each other
their use; and one man, pointing to one of our umbrellas, said, “That I
can understand; but is this really an umbrella?”
As our party of four emerged from their chairs at each temple, crowds
of a hundred or more would follow us to the gate, and wait there for
us to re-appear. Mothers would lift little children to see the odd
foreigners. Not one word, sign, or look of contempt or disrespect,
however, did we witness during the four or five days that we spent
in the city. The streets being, most of them, only eight or ten feet
wide, the people were frequently stopped by our chairs, and had to
stand sideways to let us pass, but never did they make us feel that we
were intruders. About two months after this, the affair at Tientsin
happened, and the people in many parts of the empire were excited to
some degree against foreigners. Receiving an invitation to re-visit
Canton, I was strongly advised not to go, on the ground that, while
mercantile men, obviously on business, might visit the place in
safety, the sight of a foreigner, led there by curiosity, might awaken
suspicion and lead to violence.