The S.S. Kin Kiang--First View of Canton--The Island of
Shameen--England in Canton--The Tartar City--Drains and
Barricades--Canton at Night--Street Picturesqueness--Ghastly
Gifts--Oriental Enchantments--The Examination Hall
S.S. "KIN KIANG," December 30.
You will remember that it is not very long since a piratical party of
Chinese, shipping as steerage passengers on board one of these Hong
Kong river steamers, massacred the officers and captured the boat. On
board this great, white, deck-above-deck American steamer there is but
one European passenger beside myself, but there are four hundred and
fifty second-class passengers, Chinamen, with the exception of a few
Parsees, all handsomely dressed, nearly all smoking, and sitting or
lying over the saloon deck up to the saloon doors. In the steerage
there are fifteen hundred Chinese steerage passengers, all men. The
Chinese are a noisy people, their language is inharmonious, and the
lower class male voices, at least, are harsh and coarse. The fifteen
hundred men seem to be all shouting at once, and the din which comes up
through the hatchways is fearful. This noisy mass of humanity is
practically imprisoned below, for there is a heavy iron grating
securely padlocked over each exit, and a European, "armed to the
teeth," stands by each, ready to shoot the first man who attempts to
force it. In this saloon there is a stand of six rifles with bayonets,
and four revolvers, and, as we started, a man carefully took the
sheaths off the bayonets, and loaded the firearms with ball cartridge.
Canton, January 1, 1879.--The Canton river for the ninety miles up here
has nothing interesting about it. Soon after leaving Hong Kong the
country becomes nearly a dead level, mainly rice-swamps varied by
patches of bananas, with their great fronds torn to tatters by the
prevailing strong breeze. A very high pagoda marks Whampoa, once a
prosperous port, but now, like Macao, nearly deserted. An hour after
disgorging three boat loads of Chinamen at Whampoa, we arrived at the
beginning of Canton, but it took more than half an hour of cautious
threading of our way among junks, sampans, house-boats, and
slipper-boats, before we moored to the crowded and shabby wharf. If my
expectations of Canton had been much raised they would certainly have
been disappointed, for the city stands on a perfectly level site, and
has no marked features within or around it except the broad and
bridgeless tidal river which sweeps through it at a rapid rate. In the
distance are the White-Cloud hills, which were painted softly in
amethyst on a tender green sky, and nearer are some rocky hills, which
are red at all hours of daylight. Boats and masts conceal the view of
the city from the river to a great extent, but even when from a vantage
ground it is seen spread out below, it is so densely packed, its
streets are so narrow, and its open spaces so few, that one almost
doubts whether the million and a half of people attributed to it are
really crowded within the narrow area. From the river, and indeed from
any point of view, Canton is less imposing even than Tokiyo. Few
objects rise above the monotonous level, and the few are unimpressive.
There are two or three pagodas looking like shot towers. There is a
double-towered Romish cathedral of great size, not yet finished. There
is the "Nine-storied pagoda." But in truth the most prominent objects
from the river are the "godowns" of the pawnbrokers, lofty, square
towers of gray brick which dominate the city, play a very important
part in its social economy, and are very far removed from those
establishments with the trinity of gilded balls, which hide themselves
shamefacedly away in our English by-streets. At one part of the
riverside there are some substantial looking foreign houses among
trees, on the site of the foreign factories of former days, but they
and indeed all else are hidden by a crowd of boats, a town of boats, a
floating suburb. Indeed, boats are my earliest and strongest
impressions of what on my arrival I was hasty enough to think a mean
city. It is not only along the sides of the broad Pearl river, but
along the network of innumerable canals and creeks which communicate
with it, that they are found.
These boats, the first marvel of a marvelous city, have come between me
and my landing. When the steamer had disgorged her two thousand
passengers, Mr. Mackrill Smith, whose guest I am, brought me in a
bamboo chair, carried by two coolies, through a covered and crowded
street of merchandise six feet wide, to Shameen, the island in the
river on which the foreigners reside; most of the missionary community,
however, living in the buildings on the site of the old factory farther
down.
I am now domiciled on Shameen, a reclaimed mud flat, in the beautiful
house belonging to the firm of Jardine, Matheson & Co. This island,
which has on the one side the swift flowing Canton river, with its ever
shifting life, has on the other a canal, on which an enormous
population lives in house boats, moored stem and stern, without any
space between them. A stone bridge with an iron gate gives access into
one of the best parts of Canton, commercially speaking; but all the
business connected with tea, silk, and other productions, which is
carried on by such renowned firms as Jardine, Matheson & Co., the
Dents, the Deacons, and others, is transacted in these handsome
dwellings of stone or brick, each standing in its tropical garden, with
a wall or ornamental railing or bamboo hedge surrounding it, but
without any outward sign of commerce at all. The settlement, insular
and exclusive, hears little and knows less of the crowded Chinese city
at its gates. It reproduces English life as far as possible, and adds a
boundless hospitality of its own, receiving all strangers who are in
any way accredited, and many who are not. A high sea-wall with a broad
concrete walk, shaded by banyan trees, runs round it, a distance of a
mile and a quarter. It is quite flat and covered with carefully kept
grass, intersected with concrete walks and banyan avenues, the tropical
gardens of the rich merchants giving variety and color.
The community at present consists of forty-five people--English,
French, and German. The establishment of the electric telegraph has not
only favored business, but has enabled some of the senior partners of
the old firms to return home, leaving very junior partners or senior
clerks here, who receive their instructions from England.
Consequently, in some of these large family dwellings there are only
young men "keeping bach." There are a pretty English church, a club
bungalow, a book club, lawn tennis and croquet grounds, and a small
hall used for dancing, lectures and amateur theatricals. No wheeled
vehicle larger than a perambulator ever disturbs the quiet. People who
go into the city are carried in chairs, or drop down the river in their
luxurious covered boats, but for exercise they mostly walk on the bund,
and play croquet or lawn tennis. In this glorious weather the island
is very charming. It is possible to spend the whole year here, as the
tidal breezes modify the moist heat of summer; but the English children
look pale and languid even now.
Canton, January 4.--If I were to describe Canton, and had time for it,
my letters would soon swell to the size of Archdeacon Gray's quaint and
fascinating book, "Walks in Canton;" but I have no time, and must
content myself with brief sketches of two or three things which have
greatly interested me, and of the arrangement and management of the
city; putting the last first, if I am able "to make head or tail of
it," and to cram its leading features into a letter.
Viewing Canton from the "five-storied pagoda," or from the dignified
elevation of a pawn tower, it is apparent that it is surrounded by a
high wall, beyond which here and there are suburban villages, some
wealthy and wood-embosomed, others mean and mangy. The river divides it
from a very populous and important suburb. Within the city lies the
kernel of the whole, the Tartar city, occupied by the garrison and a
military colony numbering about twenty thousand persons. This
interesting area is walled round, and contains the residence of the
Tartar General, and the consulates of the great European Powers. It is
well wooded and less closely built than the rest of Canton. Descending
from any elevation one finds oneself at once involved at any and every
point in a maze of narrow, crowded streets of high brick and stone
houses, mostly from five to eight feet wide. These streets are covered
in at the height of the house roofs by screens of canvas matting, or
thin boards, which afford a pleasant shade, and at the same time let
the sunbeams glance and trickle among the long, pendent signboards and
banners which swing aloft, and upon the busy, many-colored, jostling
throng below.
Every street is paved with large slabs of granite, and under each of
the massive foot-ways (for carriage-ways there are none) there is a
drain for carrying off the rain-water, which is then conveyed into six
large culverts, from them into four creeks which intersect the city,
and thence into the river. These large drains are supervised by the
"prefect," who is bound by an ancient law to have them thoroughly
cleansed every autumn, while each of the small drains is cleansed by
the orders and at the expense of the "vestry" of the street under which
it passes. This ancient sanitary law, like many other of the admirable
laws of this empire, is said to be by no means punctiliously carried
out; and that Canton is a very healthy city, and that pestilences of
any kind rarely gain a footing in it, may be attributed rather to the
excellent plan of sending out the garbage of the city daily to
fertilize the gardens and fields of the neighborhood, than to the
vigilance of the municipal authorities.
There are heavy and ancient gates or barricades which enclose each
street, and which are locked at night, only to be opened by favor of
the watchmen who guard them. Their closing brings to an end the busy
street life, and at 10 P.M. Canton, cut up into small sections, barred
out from each other, is like a city of the dead. Each gate watchman is
appointed and paid by the "vestry" of the street in which he keeps
guard. They wear uniform, but are miserable dilapidated-looking
creatures, and I have twice seen one fast asleep. In the principal
streets night watchmen are stationed in watch-towers, which consist of
small mat huts, placed on scaffolds raised far above the house-tops, on
bamboo poles bound together with strong cords. These men are on the
look-out for armed bands of robbers, but specially for fire. They are
provided with tom-toms and small gongs on which to proclaim the hours
of the night, but, should fire arise, a loud, rapid, and incessant
beating of the gong gives the alarm to all the elevated brotherhood in
turn, who at the same time, by concerted signals, inform the citizens
below of the ward and street in which the fire has originated. In each
principal street there is a very large well, covered with granite
slabs, with its exact position denoted on a granite slab on the
adjoining wall. These wells, which are abundant reservoirs, are never
opened except in case of fire.
Besides these watchmen, eleven hundred military constabulary are
answerable for the good order of the "new city" and its suburbs, and a
thousand more, called the Governor's brigade, garrison the outer gates
in the city wall and several interior guard-houses, all the inner gates
being garrisoned by Tartar troops. Canton is divided into thirty-six
wards, under twelve officers in summer, but in winter, as now, when
burglars are supposed to be more on the alert, this number is
increased. Each officer having soldiers under him traverses at
intervals during the night every street under his jurisdiction, and
these armed followers, whether to intimidate criminals or to show their
vigilance, are in the habit of discharging their old-fashioned
matchlocks and gingalls as they patrol. In consequence of so many
precautions, which are carried out very thoroughly, fires and
burglaries are much minimized, and the proverb "as safe as Canton"
appears to have a substantial foundation. The barricaded streets at
night have an eerie solemnity about them. One night, my present
hostess, Mrs. H., and I prowled through some of them quite unattended,
on our way back from a friend's dwelling, roused up the watchmen to
unlock and unbar the gates, saw no other people astir, went down one of
the water streets, hailed a boat, and were deposited close to the door
of our own abode about midnight; such an event being quite of common
occurrence in this quarter.
In the streets the roofs of the houses and shops are rarely, if ever,
regular, nor are the houses themselves arranged in a direct line, This
queer effect results from queer causes. Every Chinese house is built on
the principles of geomancy, which do not admit of straight lines, and
were these to be disregarded the astrologers and soothsayers under
whose auspices all houses are erected, predict fearful evils to the
impious builders. There are few open spaces in Canton, and these are
decorated, not with statues, but with monumental arches of brick, red
sandstone, or gray granite, which are put up as memorials of virtuous
men and women, learned or aged men, and specially dutiful sons or
daughters. Such memorials are erected by citizens, and, in some cases,
by Imperial sanction or decree.
The public buildings and temples, though they bear magnificent names,
are extremely ugly, and are the subjects of slow but manifest decay,
while the streets of shops exceed in picturesqueness everything I have
ever seen. Much of this is given by the perpendicular sign boards,
fixed or hanging, upon which are painted on an appropriate background
immense Chinese characters in gold, vermilion, or black. Two or three
of these belong to each shop, and set forth its name and the nature of
the goods which are to be purchased at it. The effect of these boards
as the sun's rays fall upon them here and there is fascinating. The
interiors of the shops are lofty, glass lamps hang from the ceilings
and large lanterns above every door, and both are painted in bright
colors, with the characters signifying happiness, or with birds,
butterflies, flowers, or landscapes. The shop wall which faces the door
invariably has upon it a gigantic fresco or portrait of the tutelary
god of the building, or a sheet of red paper on which the characters
forming his name are placed, or the character Shan, which implies all
gods, and these and the altars below are seen from the street. There is
a recess outside each shop, and at dusk the joss-sticks burning in
these fill the city with the fragrance of incense.
As there are streets of shops and trades, so there are streets of
dwelling-houses, but even the finest of these present a miserable
appearance to the passers-by, for all one can see is a lofty and
dimly-lighted stone vestibule, furnished with carved ebony chairs with
marble seats and backs, and not infrequently with gigantic coffins
placed on end, the gift of pious juniors to their seniors! A porter
stands in this vestibule ready to open the lofty triple gate which
admits to the courtyard of the interior. Many Chinese mansions contain
six or seven courtyards, each with its colonnade, drawing, dining, and
reception rooms, and at the back of all there is a flower garden
adorned with rockeries, fish-ponds, dwarf trees, and miniature pagodas
and bridges.
The streets in which the poor dwell are formed of low, small, dark, and
dirty houses, of two or three rooms each. The streets of dwellings are
as mean and ugly as those of shops are brilliant and picturesque.
This is a meagre outline of what may be called the anatomy of this
ancient city, which dates from the fourth century B.C., when it was
walled only by a stockade of bamboo and mud, but was known by the name
of "the martial city of the south," changed later into "the city of
rams." At this date it has probably greater importance than it ever
had, and no city but London impresses me so much with the idea of solid
wealth and increasing prosperity.
My admiration and amazement never cease. I grudge the hours that I am
obliged to spend in sleep; a week has gone like half a day, each hour
heightening my impressions of the fascination and interest of Canton,
and of the singular force and importance of the Chinese. Canton is
intoxicating from its picturesqueness, color, novelty and movement.
To-day I have been carried eighteen miles through and round it,
reveling the whole time in its enchantments, and drinking for the first
time of that water of which it may truly be said that who so drinks
"shall thirst again"--true Orientalism. As we sat at mid-day at the
five-storied pagoda, which from a corner of the outer wall overlooks
the Tartar city, and ever since, through this crowded week, I have
wished that the sun would stand still in the cloudless sky, and let me
dream of gorgeous sunlight, light without heat, of narrow lanes rich in
color, of the glints of sunlight on embroideries and cloth of gold,
resplendent even in the darkness, of hurrying and colored crowds in the
shadow, with the blue sky in narrow strips high above, of gorgeous
marriage processions, and the "voice of the bridegroom and the voice of
the bride," of glittering trains of mandarins, of funeral processions,
with the wail of hired mourners clad in sackcloth and ashes, of the
Tartar city with its pagodas, of the hills of graves, great cities of
the dead outside the walls, fiery-red under the tropic blue, of the
"potter's field" with its pools of blood and sacks of heads, and
crosses for crucifixion, now, as on Calvary, symbolical of shame alone,
of the wonderful river life, and all the busy, crowded, costumed hurry
of the streets, where blue banners hanging here and there show that in
those houses death has stilled some busy brains forevermore. And I
should like to tell you of the Buddhist and Confucian temples; of the
monastery garden, which is the original of the famous "Willow Pattern;"
of the great Free Dispensary which is to rival that of the Medical
Mission; of the asylums for lepers, foundlings, the blind, aged men and
aged women, dating from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries,
originally well conceived and noble institutions, but reduced into
inefficiency and degradation by the greed and corruption of generations
of officials; of the "Beggars' Square" and beggars' customs; of the
trades, and of the shops with their splendors; of the Examination Hall
with its streets numbering eleven thousand six hundred and
seventy-three cells for the candidates for the literary honors which
are the only road to office and distinction in China, but Canton
deserves a volume, and Archdeacon Gray has written one!