UP THE CHINA SEAS--HONG KONG AND CANTON.
In Singapore, as in Batavia, the lines fell to us in pleasant places.
An English merchant, Mr. James Graham, carried us off to his
hospitable bungalow outside the town, where we passed four days. It
stood on a hill, from which we looked off on one side to the harbor,
where were riding the ships of all nations, and on the other to an
undulating country, with here and there an English residence embowered
in trees. In this delightful retreat our hosts made us feel perfectly
at home. We talked of England and America; we romped with the
children; we played croquet on the lawn; we received calls from the
neighbors, and went out to "take tea" in the good old-fashioned way.
We attended service, the Sunday before going to Java, in the
Cathedral, and on our return, in the Scotch church; so that around us,
even at this extremity of Asia, were the faces and voices, the happy
domestic life, and the religious worship, of dear old England.
But just as we began to settle into this quiet life, the steamer was
signalled from Ceylon which was to take us to China, and we had to
part from our new friends.
It had been in my plan to go from here to Siam. It is but three days'
sail from Singapore up the Gulf to Bangkok; but it is not so easy to
get on from there. Could we have been sure of a speedy passage to
Saigon, to connect with the French steamer, we should not have
hesitated; but without this, we might be detained for a week or two,
or be obliged to come back to Singapore. Thus uncertain, we felt that
it was safer to take the steamer direct for Hong Kong, though it was
a sore disappointment to pass across the head of the Gulf of Siam,
knowing that we were so near the Land of the White Elephant, and leave
it unvisited.
The China seas have a very bad name among sailors and travellers, as
they are often swept by terrible cyclones; but we crossed at a
favorable season, and escaped. The heat was great, and passengers sat
about on deck in their easy cane chairs, as on the Red Sea; but beyond
that, we experienced not so much discomfort as on the Mediterranean.
On the sixth morning we saw in the distance an island, which, as we
drew nearer, rose up so steeply and so high that it appeared almost
like a mountain. This was the Peak of Hong Kong--a signal-station from
which men, with their glasses, can look far out to sea, and as soon as
one of the great steamers is descried on the horizon, a flag is run up
and a gun fired to convey the news to the city below. Coming up behind
the island, we swept around its point, and saw before us a large town,
very picturesquely situated on the side of a hill, rising street above
street, and overlooking a wide bay shut in by hills, so that it is
sheltered from the storms that vex the China seas. The harbor was full
of foreign ships, among which were many ships of war (as this is the
rendezvous of the British fleet in these waters), which were firing
salutes; among those flying the flags of all nations was one modest
representative of our country, of which we did not need to be
ashamed--the Kearsarge. We afterwards went on board of her, and saw
and stroked with affection, mingled with pride, the big gun that sunk
the Alabama.
Hong Kong, like Singapore, is an English colony, but with a Chinese
population. You can hardly set foot on shore before you are snapped up
by a couple of lusty fellows, with straw hats as large as umbrellas on
their heads, and who, though in bare feet, stand up as straight as
grenadiers, and as soon as you take your seat in a chair, lift the
bamboo poles to their shoulders, and walk off with you on the
double-quick.
No country which we see for the first time is exactly as we supposed
it to be. Somehow I had thought of China as a vast plain like India;
and behold! the first view reveals a wild, mountainous coast. As we
climb Victoria Peak above Hong Kong, and look across to the mainland,
we see only barren hills--a prospect almost as desolate as that of the
Arabian shores on the Red Sea.
But what wonders lie beyond that Great Wall of mountains which guards
this part of the coast of China! One cannot be in sight of such a
country without an eager impulse to be in it, and after two or three
days of rest we set out for Canton, which is only eight hours distant.
Our boat was an American one, with an American captain, who took us
into the wheel-house, and pointed out every spot of interest as we
passed through the islands and entered the Canton river. Forty miles
south is the old Portuguese port of Macao. At the mouth of the river
are the Bogue Forts, which played such a part in the English war of
1841, but which were sadly battered, and now lie dismantled and
ungarrisoned. Going by the stately Second Bar Pagoda, we next pass
Whampoa, the limit to which foreign vessels could come before the
Treaty Ports were opened. As we ascend the river, it is crowded with
junks--strange craft, high at both ends, armed with old rusty cannon,
with which to beat off the pirates that infest these seas, and
ornamented at the bow with huge round eyes, that stand out as if from
the head of some sea-monster, some terrible dragon, which keeps watch
over the deep. Amid such fantastic barks, with their strange crews, we
steamed up to Canton.
At the landing, a son of Dr. Happer, the American missionary, came on
board with a letter from his father inviting us to be his guests, and
we accordingly took a native boat, and were rowed up the river. Our
oarsman was a woman, who, besides the trifle of rowing our boat up
the stream, had a baby strapped on her back! Perhaps the weight helped
her to keep her balance as she bent to the oar. But it was certainly
bringing things to a pretty fine point when human muscles were thus
economized. This boat, well called in Chinese a _tan-ka_ or egg-house,
was the home of the family. It sheltered under its little bamboo cover
eight souls (as many as Noah had in the Ark), who had no other
habitation. Here they ate and drank and slept; here perhaps children
were born and old men died. In Canton it is estimated that a hundred
and fifty thousand people thus live in boats, leading a kind of
amphibious existence.
Above the landing is the island of Shameen, a mile long, which is the
foreign quarter, where are the Hongs, or Factories, of the great
tea-merchants, and where live the wealthy foreign residents. Rounding
this island, we drew up to the quay, in front of Dr. Happer's door,
where we found that welcome which is never wanting under the roof of
an American missionary. Dr. Happer has lived here thirty-two years,
and was of course familiar with every part of Canton, and was an
invaluable guide in the explorations of the next three or four days.
When we were in Paris, we met Dr. Wells Williams, the well-known
missionary, who had spent over forty years in China, twelve of them in
Peking, of which he said, that apart from its being the capital, it
had little to interest a stranger--at least not enough to repay the
long journey to reach it. He said it would take a month to go from
Shanghai to Tientsin, and then cross the country cramped up in carts
to Peking, and visit the Great Wall, and return to Shanghai. Canton
was not only much nearer, but far more interesting, and the best
representative of a Chinese city in the Empire.
The next morning we began our excursions, not with horses and
chariots, but with coolies and chairs. An English gentleman and his
wife, who had come with us from Singapore, joined us, making, with a
son of Dr. Happer and the guide, a party of six, for whom eighteen
bearers drew up before the door, forming quite a procession as we
filed through the streets. The motion was not unpleasant, though they
swung us along at a good round pace, shouting to the people to get out
of the way, who forthwith parted right and left, as if some high
mandarin were coming. The streets were narrow and densely crowded.
Through such a mass it required no small effort to force our way,
which was effected only by our bearers keeping up a constant cry, like
that of the gondoliers in Venice, when turning a corner in the
canals--a signal of warning to any approaching in the opposite
direction. I could but admire the good-nature of the people, who
yielded so readily. If we were thus to push through a crowd in New
York, and the policemen were to shout to the "Bowery boys" to "get out
of the way," we might receive a "blessing" in reply that would not be
at all agreeable. But the Chinamen took it as a matter of course, and
turned aside respectfully to give us a passage, only staring mildly
with their almond eyes, to see what great personages were these that
came along looking so grand.
Our way led through the longest street of the city, which bears the
sounding name of the Street of Benevolence and Love. This is the
Broadway of Canton, only it is not half as wide as Broadway. It is
very narrow, like some of the old streets of Genoa, and paved, like
them, with huge slabs of stone. On either side it is lined with shops,
into which we had a good opportunity to look as we brushed past them,
for they stood wide open. They were of the smallest dimensions, most
of them consisting of a single room, even when hung with beautiful
embroideries. There may be little recesses behind, hidden interiors
where they live, though apparently we saw the whole family. In many
shops they were taking their meals in full sight of the passers-by.
There was no variety of courses; a bowl of rice in the centre of the
table was the universal dish (for rice is the staff of life in Asia,
as bread is in America), garnished perchance with some "little
pickle," in the shape of a bit of fish and soy, to serve _as a sauce
piquante_ to stimulate the flagging appetite. But apparently they
needed no appetizer, for they plied their chop-sticks with unfailing
assiduity.
Our first day's ride was probably ten or twelve miles, and took us
through such "heavenly streets" as we never knew before, and did not
expect to walk in till we entered the gates of the New Jerusalem.
Besides the Street of Benevolence and Love, which might be considered
the great highway of the Celestial City, there were streets which bore
the enrapturing names of "Peace," "Bright Cloud," and "Longevity;" of
"Early-bestowed Blessings" and of "Everlasting Love;" of "One Hundred
Grandsons" and (more ambitious still) of "One Thousand Grandsons;" of
"Five Happinesses" and of "Refreshing Breezes;" of "Accumulated
Blessings" and of "Ninefold Brightness." There was a "Dragon street,"
and others devoted to "The Ascending Dragon," "The Saluting Dragon,"
and "The Reposing Dragon;" while other titles came probably a little
nearer the plain fact, such as "The Market of Golden Profits." All the
shops have little shrines near the door dedicated to _Tsai Shin_, or
the God of Wealth, to whom the shopkeepers offer their prayers every
day. I think I have heard of prayers offered to that divinity in other
countries, and no one could doubt that these prayers at least were
fervent and sincere.
But names do not always designate realities, and though we passed
through the street of a "Thousand Beatitudes" and that of a
"Thousandfold Peace," we saw sorrow and misery enough before the day
was done.
One gets an idea of the extent of a city not only by traversing its
streets, but by ascending some high point in the vicinity that
overlooks it. The best point for such a bird's-eye view is the
Five-storied Pagoda, from which the eye ranges over a distance of many
miles, including the city and the country around to the mountains in
the distance, with the broad river in front, and the suburb on the
other side. The appearance of Canton is very different from that of a
European city. It has no architectural magnificence. There are some
fine houses of the rich merchants, built of brick, with spacious rooms
and courts; but there are no great palaces towering over the city--no
domes like St. Paul's in London, or St. Peter's in Rome, nor even like
the domes and minarets of Constantinople. The most imposing structure
in view is the new Roman Catholic Cathedral. Here and there a solitary
pagoda rises above the vast sea of human dwellings, which are
generally of but one, seldom two stories in height, and built very
much alike; for there is the same monotony in the Chinese houses as in
the figures and costumes of the Chinese themselves. Nor is this level
surface relieved by any variety of color. The tiled roofs, with their
dead color, but increase the sombre impression of the vast dull plain;
yet beneath such a pall is a great city, intersected by hundreds of
streets, and occupied by a million of human beings.
The first impression of a Chinese city is of its myriad, multitudinous
life. There are populous cities in Europe, and crowded streets; but
here human beings _swarm_, like birds in the air or fishes in the sea.
The wonder is how they all live; but that is a mystery which I could
not solve in London any more than here. There is one street a mile
long, which has in it nothing but shoemakers. The people amused us
very much by their strange appearance and dress, in both which China
differs wholly from the Orient. A Chinaman is not at all like a Turk.
He does not wear a turban, nor even a long, flowing beard. His head is
shaved above and below--face, chin, and skull--and instead of the
patriarchal beard before him, he carries only a pigtail behind. The
women whom we met in the streets (at least those of any position, for
only the common work-women let their feet grow) hobbled about on their
little feet, which were like dolls' feet--a sight that was half
ludicrous and half painful.
But if we were amused at the Chinese, I dare say they were as much
amused at us. The people of Canton ought by this time to be familiar
with white faces. But, strange to say, wherever we went we attracted a
degree of attention which had never been accorded us before in any
foreign city. Boys ran after us, shouting as they ran. If the chairs
were set down in the street, as we stopped to see a sight, a crowd
gathered in a moment. There was no rudeness, but mere curiosity. If we
went into a temple, a throng collected about the doors, and looked in
at the windows, and opened a passage for us as we came out, and
followed us till we got into our chairs and disappeared down the
street. The ladies of our party especially seemed to be objects of
wonder. They did not hobble on the points of their toes, but stood
erect, and walked with a firm step. Their free and independent air
apparently inspired respect. The children seemed to hesitate between
awe and terror. One little fellow I remember, who dared to approach
too near, and whom my niece cast her eye upon, thought that he was
done for, and fled howling. I have no doubt all reported, when they
went home, that they had seen some strange specimens of "foreign
devils."
But the Chinese are a highly civilized people. In some things, indeed,
they are mere children, compared with Europeans; but in others they
are in advance of us, especially those arts which require great
delicacy, such as the manufacture of some kinds of jewelry, exquisite
trinkets in gold and silver, in which Canton rivals Delhi and Lucknow,
and in the finest work in ivory and in precious woods; also in those
which require a degree of patience to be found nowhere except among
Asiatics. For example, I saw a man carving an elephant's tusk, which
would take him a whole year! The Chinese are also exquisite workers in
bronze, as well as in porcelain, in which they have such a conceded
mastery that specimens of "old China" ornament every collection in
Europe. Their silks are as rich and fine as any that are produced from
the looms of Lyons or Antwerp. This need not surprise us, for we must
remember the great antiquity of China; that the Chinese were a highly
civilized people when our ancestors, the Britons, were barbarians.
They had the art of printing and the art of gunpowder long before they
were known in Europe. Chinese books are in some respects a model for
ours now, not only in cheapness, but in their extreme lightness, being
made of thin bamboo paper, so that a book weighs in the hand hardly
more than a newspaper.
Of course every stranger must make the round of temples and pagodas,
of which there are enough to satisfy any number of worshippers. There
is a Temple of the Five Genii, and one of the Five Hundred Arhans, or
scholars of Buddha. There is a Temple of Confucius, and a Temple of
the Emperor, where the mandarins go and pay to his Majesty and to the
Sage an homage of divine adoration. I climbed up into his royal seat,
and thought I was quite as fit an object of worship as he! There is a
Temple of Horrors, which outdoes the "Chamber of Horrors" in Madame
Tussaud's famous exhibition of wax-works in London. It is a
representation of all the torments which are supposed to be endured by
the damned, and reminds one of those frightful pictures painted in the
Middle Ages in some Roman Catholic countries, in which heretics are
seen in the midst of flames, tossed about by devils on pitchforks. But
the Chinese soften the impression. To restore the balance of mind,
terrified by these frightful representations, there is a Temple of
Longevity, in which there is a figure of Buddha, such as the ancient
Romans might have made of Bacchus or Silenus--a mountain of flesh,
with fat eyes, laughing mouth, and enormous paunch. Even the four
Kings of Heaven, that rule over the four points of the compass--North,
South, East, and West--have much more of an earthly than a heavenly
look. All these figures are grotesque and hideous enough; but to their
credit be it said, they are not obscene, like the figures in the
temples of India. Here we made the same observation as in Burmah, that
Buddhism is a much cleaner and more decent religion than Hindooism.
This is to its honor. "Buddhism," says Williams, "is the least
revolting and impure of all false religions." Its general character we
have seen elsewhere. Its precepts enjoin self-denial and practical
benevolence. It has no cruel or bloody rites, and nothing gross in its
worship. Of its priests, some are learned men, but the mass are
ignorant, yet sober and inoffensive. At least they are not a scandal
to their faith, as are the priests of some forms of Christianity. That
the Chinese are imbued with religious ideas is indicated in the very
names of the streets already mentioned, whereby, though in a singular
fashion, they commemorate and glorify certain attributes of character.
The idea which seems most deep-rooted in their minds is that of
retribution according to conduct. The maxim most frequent in their
mouths is that good actions bring their own reward, and bad actions
their own punishment. This idea was very pithily expressed by the
famous hong-merchant, Howqua, in reply to an American sea-captain, who
asked him his idea of future rewards and punishments, to which he
replied in pigeon-English: "A man do good, he go to Joss; he no do
good, very much bamboo catchee he!"
But we will leave the temples with their grinning idols; as we leave
the restaurants, where lovers of dainty dishes are regaled with dogs
and cats; and the opium-shops, where the Chinese loll and smoke till
they are stupefied by the horrid drug; for Canton has something more
attractive. We found a very curious study in the Examination Hall,
illustrating, as it does, the Chinese manner of elevating men to
office. We hear much in our country of "civil service reform," which
some innocently suppose to be a new discovery in political economy--an
American invention. But the Chinese have had it for a thousand years.
Here appointments to office are made as the result of a competitive
examination; and although there may be secret favoritism and bribery,
yet the theory is one of perfect equality. In this respect China is
the most absolute democracy in the world. There is no hereditary rank
or order of nobility; the lowest menial, if he has native talent, may
raise himself by study and perseverance to be Prime Minister of the
Empire.
In the eastern quarter of Canton is an enclosure of many acres, laid
off in a manner which betokens some unusual purpose. The ground is
divided by a succession of long, low buildings, not much better than
horse-sheds around a New England meeting-house of the olden time. They
run in parallel lines, like barracks for a camp, and are divided into
narrow compartments. Once in three years this vast camping-ground
presents an extraordinary spectacle, for then are gathered in these
courts, from all parts of the province, some ten thousand candidates,
all of whom have previously passed a first examination, and received a
degree, and now appear to compete for the second. Some are young, and
some are old, for there is no limit put upon age. As the candidates
present themselves, each man is searched, to see that he has no books,
or helps of any kind, concealed upon his person, and then put into a
stall about three feet wide, just large enough to turn around in, and
as bare as a prisoner's cell. There is a niche in the wall, in which a
board can be placed for him to sit upon, and another niche to support
a board that has to serve as breakfast-table and writing-table. This
is the furniture of his room. Here he is shut in from all
communication with the world, his food being passed to him through the
door, as to a prisoner. Certain themes are then submitted to him in
writing, on which he is to furnish written essays, intended generally,
and perhaps always, to determine his knowledge of the Chinese
classics. It is sometimes said that these are frivolous questions, the
answers to which afford no proof whatever of one's capacity for
office; but it should be remembered that these classics are the
writings of Confucius, which are the political ethics of the country,
the very foundation of the government, without knowing which one is
not qualified to take part in its administration.
The candidate goes into his cell in the afternoon, and spends the
night there, which gives him time for reflection, and all the next day
and the next night, when he comes out, and after a few days is put in
again for another trial of the same character; and this is repeated a
third time; at the end of which he is released from solitary
confinement, and his essays are submitted for examination. Of the ten
thousand, only seventy-five can obtain a degree--not one in a hundred!
The nine thousand and nine hundred must go back disappointed, their
only consolation being that after three years they can try again. Even
the successful ones do not thereby get an office, but only the right
to enter for a third competition, which takes place at Peking, by
which of course their ranks are thinned still more. The few who get
through this threefold ordeal take a high place in the literary or
learned class, from which all appointments to the public service are
made. Here is the system of examination complete. No trial can be
imagined more severe, and it ought to give the Chinese the best civil
service in the world.
May we not get a hint from this for our instruction in America, where
some of our best men are making earnest efforts for civil service
reform? If the candidates, who flock to Washington at the beginning of
each administration, were to be put into cells, and fed on bread and
water, it might check the rage for office, and the number of
applicants might be diminished; and if they were required to pass an
examination, and to furnish written essays, showing at least some
degree of knowledge of political affairs, we might have a more
intelligent class of officials to fill consular posts in different
parts of the world.
But, unfortunately, it might be answered that examinations, be they
ever so strict, do not change human nature, nor make men just or
humane; and that even the rigid system of China does not restrain
rulers from corruption, nor protect the people from acts of oppression
and cruelty.
Three spots in Canton had for me the fascination of horror--the court,
the prison, and the execution ground. I had heard terrible tales of
the trial by torture--of men racked to extort the secrets of crime,
and of the punishments which followed. These stories haunted me, and I
hoped to find some features which would relieve the impression of so
much horror. I wished to see for myself the administration of
justice--to witness a trial in a Chinese court. A few years ago this
would have been impossible; foreigners were excluded from the courts.
But now they are open, and all can see who have the nerve to look on.
Therefore, after we had made a long circuit through the streets of
Canton, I directed the bearers to take us to the Yamun, the Hall of
Justice. Leaving our chairs in the street, we passed through a large
open court into a hall in the rear, where at that very moment several
trials were going on.
The court-room was very plain. A couple of judges sat behind tables,
before whom a number of prisoners were brought in. The mode of
proceeding was very foreign to American or European ideas. There was
neither jury nor witnesses. This simplified matters exceedingly. There
is no trial by jury in China. While we haggle about impanelling juries
and getting testimony, and thus trials drag on for weeks, in China no
such obstacle is allowed to impede the rapid course of justice; and
what is more, there are no lawyers to perplex the case with their
arguments, but the judge has it all his own way. He is simply
confronted with the accused, and they have it all between them.
While we stood here, a number of prisoners were brought in; some were
carried in baskets (as they are borne to execution), and dumped on the
stone pavement like so many bushels of potatoes; others were led in
with chains around their necks. As each one's name was called, he came
forward and fell on his knees before the judge, and lifted up his
hands to beg for mercy. He was then told of the crime of which he was
accused, and given opportunity if he had anything to say in his own
defence. There was no apparent harshness or cruelty towards him,
except that he was presumed to be guilty, unless he could prove his
innocence; contrary to the English maxim of law, that a man is to be
presumed innocent until he is proved guilty. In this, however, the
Chinese practice is not very different from that which exists at this
day in so enlightened a country as France.
For example, two men were accused of being concerned together in a
burglary. As they were from another prefecture, where there is another
dialect, they had to be examined through an interpreter. The judge
wished to find out who were leagued with them, and therefore
questioned them separately. Each was brought in in a basket, chained
and doubled up, so that he sat helplessly. No witness was examined,
but the man himself was simply interrogated by the judge.
In another case, two men were accused of robbery with violence--a
capital offence, but by the Chinese law no man can be punished with
death unless he confesses his crime; hence every means is employed to
lead a criminal to acknowledge his guilt. Of course in a case of life
and death he will deny it as long as he can. But if he will not
confess, the court proceeds to take stringent measures to _make_ him
confess, for which purpose these two men were now put to the torture.
The mode of torture was this: There were two round pillars in the
hall. Each man was on his knees, with his feet chained behind him, so
that he could not stir. He was then placed with his back to one of
these columns, and small cords were fastened around his thumbs and
great toes, and drawn back tightly to the pillar behind. This soon
produced intense suffering. Their breasts heaved, the veins on their
foreheads stood out like whipcords, and every feature betrayed the
most excruciating agony. Every few minutes an officer of the court
asked if they were ready to confess, and as often they answered, "No;
never would they confess that they had committed such a crime." They
were told if they did not confess, they would be subjected to still
greater torture. But they still held out, though every moment seemed
an hour of pain.
While these poor wretches were thus writhing in agony, I turned to the
judge to see how he bore the spectacle of such suffering. He sat at
his table quite unmoved; yet he did not seem like a brutal man, but
like a man of education, such as one might see on the bench in England
or America. He seemed to look upon it as in the ordinary course of
proceedings, and a necessary step in the conviction of a criminal. He
used no bravado, and offered no taunt or insult. But the cries of the
sufferers did not move him, nor prevent his taking his accustomed
ease. He sat fanning himself and smoking his pipe, as if he said he
could stand it as long as they could. Of course he knew that, as their
heads were at stake, they would deny their guilt till compelled to
yield; but he seemed to look upon it as simply a question of
endurance, in which, if he kept on long enough, there could be but one
issue.
But still the men did not give in, and I looked at them with amazement
mingled with horror, to see what human nature could endure. The sight
was too painful to witness more than a few moments, and I rushed away,
leaving the men still hanging to the pillars of torture. I confess I
felt a relief when I went back the next day, to hear that they had
not yielded, but held out unflinchingly to the last.
Horrible as this seems, I have heard good men--men of humanity--argue
in favor of torture, at least "when applied in a mild way." They
affirm that in China there can be no administration of justice without
it. In a country where testimony is absolutely worthless--where as
many men can be hired to swear falsely for ten cents apiece as you
have money to buy--there is no possible way of arriving at the truth
but by _extorting_ it. No doubt it is a rough process, but it secures
the result. As it happened, the English gentleman who accompanied us
was a magistrate in India, and he confirmed the statement as to the
difficulty, and in many cases the impossibility, of getting at the
truth, because of the unfathomable deceit of the natives. Many cases
came before him in which he was sure a witness was lying, but he was
helpless to prove it, when a little gentle application of the
thumbscrew, or even a good whipping, would have brought out the truth,
which, for want of it, could not be discovered.
To the objection that such methods may coerce the innocent as well as
the guilty--that the pain may be so great that innocent men will
confess crimes that they never committed, rather than suffer tortures
worse than death--the answer is, that as guilt makes men cowards, the
guilty will give up, while the innocent hold out. But this is simply
trusting to the trial by lot. It is the old ordeal by fire. A better
answer is, that the court has beforehand strong presumptive evidence
of the crime, and that a prisoner is not put to the torture until it
has been well ascertained by testimony obtained elsewhere that he is a
great offender. When it is thus determined that he is a robber or a
murderer, who ought not to live, then this last step is taken to
compel him to acknowledge his guilt, and the justice of his
condemnation.
But there are cases in which a man may be wrongfully accused; an enemy
may bribe a witness to make a complaint against him, upon which he is
arrested and cast into prison. Then, unless he can bring some powerful
influence to rescue him, his case is hopeless. He denies his guilt,
and is put to the rack for an offence of which he is wholly innocent.
Such cases, no doubt, occur; and yet men who have lived here many
years, such as Dr. Happer and Archdeacon Gray, tell me that they do
not believe there is a country in the world where, on the whole,
justice is more impartially administered than in China.
I was so painfully interested in this matter, that I went back to the
Yamun the next day in company with Dr. Happer, to watch the
proceedings further. As before, a number of prisoners were brought in,
with chains around their necks, each of whom, when called, fell down
on his knees before the judge and begged for mercy. They were not
answered harshly or roughly, but listened to with patience and
attention. Several whose cases were not capital, at once confessed
their offence, and took the punishment. One young fellow, a mere
overgrown boy of perhaps eighteen, was brought up, charged with
disobedience to parents. He confessed his fault, and blubbered
piteously for mercy, and was let off for this time with rather a mild
punishment, which was to wear a chain with a heavy stone attached,
which he was to drag about after him in the street before the prison,
where he was exposed to the scorn of the people. The judge, however,
warned him that if he repeated the disobedience, and was arrested
again, he would be liable to be punished with death! Such is the rigor
with which the laws of China enforce obedience to parents.
A man accused of theft confessed it, and was sentenced to wear the
_cangue_--a board about three feet square--around his neck for a
certain time, perhaps several weeks, on which his name was painted in
large characters, with the crime of which he was guilty, that all who
saw him might know that he was a thief!
These were petty cases, such as might be disposed of in any police
court. But now appeared a greater offender. A man was led in with a
chain around his neck, who had the reputation of being a noted
malefactor. He was charged with both robbery and murder. The case had
been pending a long time. The crime, or crimes, had been committed
four years ago. The man had been brought up repeatedly, but as no
amount of pressure could make him confess, he could not be executed.
He was now to have another hearing. He knelt down on the hard stone
floor, and heard the accusation, which he denied as he had done
before, and loudly protested his innocence. The judge, who was a man
of middle age, with a fine intellectual countenance, was in no haste
to condemn, but listened patiently. He was in a mild, persuasive mood,
perhaps the more so because he was refreshing himself as a Chinaman
likes to do. As he sat listening, he took several small cups of tea. A
boy in attendance brought him also his pipe, filled with tobacco,
which he put in his mouth, and took two or three puffs, when he handed
it back; and the boy cleaned it, filled it, and lighted it again. With
such support to his physical weakness, who could not listen patiently
to a man who was on his knees before him pleading for his life? But
the case was a very bad one. It had been referred back to the village
in which the man was born, and the "elders," who form the local
government in every petty commune in China, had inquired into the
facts, and reported that he was a notorious offender, accused of no
less than seven crimes--five robberies, one murder, and one maiming.
This was a pretty strong indictment. But the man protested that he had
been made the victim of a conspiracy to destroy him. The judge replied
that it might be that he should be wrongfully accused by one enemy,
but it was hardly possible that a hundred people of his native
village should combine to accuse him falsely. Their written report
was read by the clerk, who then held it up before the man, that he
might see it in white and black. Still he denied as before, and the
judge, instead of putting him to the torture, simply remanded him to
prison for further examination. In all these cases there was no
eagerness to convict or to sentence the accused. They were listened to
with patience, and apparently all proper force was allowed to what
they had to say in their own defence.
This relieves a good deal the apparent severity of the Chinese code.
It does not condemn without hearing. But, on the other hand, it does
not cover up with fine phrases or foolish sentiment the terrible
reality of crime. It believes in crime as an awful fact in human
society, and in punishment as a repressive force that must be applied
to keep society from destruction.
Next to the Yamun is the prison, in which are confined those charged
with capital offences. We were admitted by paying a small fee to the
keepers, and were at once surrounded by forty or fifty wretched
objects, some of whom had been subjected to torture, and who held up
their limbs which had been racked, and showed their bodies all covered
with wounds, as an appeal to pity. We gave them some money to buy
tobacco, as that is the solace which they crave next to opium, and
hurried away.
But there is a place more terrible than the prison; it is the
execution-ground. Outside the walls of Canton, between the city gate
and the river, is a spot which may well be called Golgotha, the place
of a skull. It is simply a dirty vacant lot, partly covered with
earthenware pots and pans, a few rods long, on one side of which is a
dead wall; but within this narrow space has been shed more blood than
on any other spot of the earth's surface. Here those sentenced to
death are beheaded. Every few days a gloomy procession files into the
lane, and the condemned are ranged against the wall on their knees,
when an assistant pulls up their pinioned arms from behind, which
forces their heads forward, and the executioner coming to one after
another, cleaves the neck with a blow. A number of skulls were
scattered about--of those whose bodies had been removed, but whose
heads were left unburied. In the lane is the house of the
executioner--a thick, short-set man, in a greasy frock, looking like a
butcher fresh from the shambles. Though a coarse, ugly fellow, he did
not look, as one might suppose, like a monster of cruelty, but was
simply a dull, stolid creature, who undertook this as he would any
other kind of business, and cut off human heads with as little feeling
as he would those of so many sheep. He picks up a little money by
exhibiting himself and his weapon of death. He brought out his sword
to show it to us. It was short and heavy, like a butcher's cleaver. I
took it in my hand, and felt of the blade. It was dull, and rusted
with stains of blood. He apologized for its appearance, but explained
that it had not been used recently, and added that whenever it was
needed for service, he sharpened it. I asked him how many heads he had
cut off. He did not know--had not kept count--but supposed some
hundreds. Sometimes there were "two or three tens"--that is, twenty or
thirty--at once. Rev. Mr. Preston told me he had seen forty cut off in
one morning. Dr. Williams had such a horror of blood that he could
never be present at an execution, but he one day saw nearly two
hundred headless trunks lying here, with their heads, which had just
been severed from the bodies, scattered over the ground. Mr. Preston
had seen heads piled up six feet high. It ought to be said, however,
that in ordinary times no criminal convicted of a capital offence can
be executed anywhere in the province (which is a district of nearly
eighty thousand square miles, with twenty millions of inhabitants)
except in Canton, and with the cognizance of the governor.
The carnival of blood was during the Taiping rebellion in 1855. That
rebellion invaded this province; it had possession of Whampoa, and
even endangered Canton. When it was suppressed, it was stamped out in
blood. There were executions by wholesale. All who had taken part in
it were sentenced to death, and as the insurgents were numbered by
tens of thousands, the work went on for days and weeks and months. The
stream of blood never ceased to flow. The rebels were brought up the
river in boat-loads. The magistrates in the villages of the province
were supposed to have made an examination. It was enough that they
were found with arms in their hands. There were no prisons which could
hold such an army, and the only way to deal with them was to execute
them. Accordingly every day a detachment was marched out to the
execution ground, where forty or fifty men would be standing with
coffins, to receive and carry off the bodies. They were taken out of
the city by a certain gate, and here Dr. Williams engaged a man to
count them as they passed, and thus he kept the fearful roll of the
dead; and comparing it with the published lists he found the number
executed in fourteen months to be eighty-one thousand! An Aceldama
indeed! It is not, then, too much to say that taking the years
together, within this narrow ground blood enough has been shed to
float the Great Eastern.
But decapitation is a simple business compared with that which the
executioner has sometimes to perform. I observed standing against the
wall some half a dozen rude crosses, made of bamboo, which reminded me
that death is sometimes inflicted by crucifixion. This mode of
punishment is reserved for the worst malefactors. They are not nailed
to the cross to die a lingering death, but lashed to it by ropes, and
then slowly strangled or cut to pieces. The executioner explained
coolly how he first cut out an eye, or sliced off a piece of the cheek
or the breast, and so proceeded deliberately, till with one tremendous
stroke the body was cleft in twain.
Thus Chinese law illustrates its idea of punishment, which is to
inflict it with tremendous rigor. It not only holds to capital
punishment, but sometimes makes a man in dying suffer a thousand
deaths. A gentleman at Fuhchau told me that he had seen a criminal
starved to death. A man who had robbed a woman, using violence, was
put into a cage in a public place, with his head out of a hole,
exposed to the sun, and his body extended, and there left to die by
inches. The foreign community were horror-struck; the consuls
protested against it, but in vain. He lingered four days before death
came to put an end to his agony. There were about twenty so punished
at Canton in 1843, for incendiarism.
We shudder at these harrowing tales of "man's inhumanity to man." But
we must not take the pictures of these terrible scenes, as if they
were things which stare in the eyes of all beholders, or which give
the fairest impression of Chinese law; as if this were a country in
which there is nothing but suffering and crime. On the contrary, it is
pre-eminently a land of peace and order. The Chinese are a law-abiding
people. Because a few hundred bad men are found in a city of a million
inhabitants, and punished with severity, we must not suppose that this
is a lawless community. Those who would charge this, may at least be
called on to point out a better-governed city in Europe.
This fearful Draconian code can at least claim that it is successful
in suppressing crime. The law is a terror to evil-doers. The proof of
this is that order is so well preserved. This great city of Canton is
as quiet, and life and property are as safe, as in London or New York.
Yet it is done with no display of force. There is no obtrusion of the
police or the military, as in Paris or Vienna. The gates of the city
are shut at night, and the Tartar soldiers make their rounds; but the
armed hand is not always held up before the public eye. The Chinese
Government has learned to make its authority respected without the
constant display of military power.
The Chinese are the most industrious people on the face of the earth,
for only by constant and universal industry can a population of four
hundred millions live. When such masses of human beings are crowded
together, the struggle for existence is so great, that it is only by
keeping the millions of hands busy that food can be obtained for the
millions of mouths. The same necessity enforces peace with each other,
and therefore from necessity, as well as from moral considerations,
this has been the policy of China from the beginning. Its whole
political economy, taught long since by Confucius, is contained in two
words--Industry and Peace. By an adherence to these simple principles,
the Empire has held together for thousands of years, while every other
nation has gone to pieces. China has never been an aggressive nation,
given to wars of conquest. It has indeed attempted to subdue the
tribes of Central Asia, and holds a weak sway over Turkistan and
Thibet; while Corea and Loochoo and Annam still acknowledge a kind of
fealty, now long since repudiated by Burmah and Siam. But in almost
all cases it has "stooped to conquer," and been satisfied with a sort
of tribute, instead of attempting roughly to enforce its authority,
which would lead to perpetual wars. Thus has China followed the lesson
of Confucius, furnishing the most stupendous example on the face of
the earth of the advantage to nations of industry and peace.
The reason for this general respect and obedience to law may be found
in another fact, which is to the immortal honor of the Chinese. It is
the respect and obedience to parents. In China the family is the
foundation of the state; and the very first law of society, as well as
of religion, is: "Honor thy father and mother." In no country in the
world is this law so universally obeyed. The preservation of China
amid the wreck of other kingdoms is largely due to its respect to the
Fifth Commandment, which has proved literally "a commandment with
promise;"--the promise, "that thy days may be long in the land which
the Lord thy God giveth thee," having been fulfilled in the
preservation of this country from age to age.
As a consequence of this respect to parents, which imposes an
authority over children, and binds them together, the family feeling
in China is very strong. This, however noble in itself, has some evil
effects, as it often separates the people of a town or village by
feuds and divisions, which are as distinct, and as jealous and
hostile, as the old Highland clans in Scotland. This interferes with
the administration of justice. If a crime is committed, all of one's
clan are in league to screen and protect the offender, while the rival
clan is as eager to pursue and destroy him. Woe to the man who is
accused, and who has no friend! But the disposition to stand by each
other manifests itself in many acts of mutual helpfulness, of devotion
and personal sacrifice.
Carrying out the same idea, the nation is only a larger family, and
the government a patriarchal despotism. There is no representative
government, no Congress or Parliament; and yet there is a kind of
local government, like that of our New England towns. Every village is
governed by "elders," who are responsible for its police, who look
after rascals, and who also aid in assessing the taxes for the local
and general governments. By this union of a great central power with
local administration of local affairs, the government has managed to
hold together hundreds of millions of human beings, and make its
authority respected over a large part of Asia.
This family feeling moulds even the religion of China, which takes the
form of a worship of ancestors. Those who have given them existence
are not lost when they have ceased to breathe. They are still the
links of being by which, and through which, the present living world
came from the hand of the Creator, and are to be reverenced with a
devotion next to that felt for the Author of being himself. Their
memory is still cherished. Every household has its objects of
devotion; every dwelling has its shrine sacred to the memory of the
dead; and no temple or pagoda is more truly holy ground than the
cemeteries, often laid out on hill-sides, where reposes the dust of
former generations. To these they make frequent pilgrimages. Every
year the Emperor of China goes in state to visit the tombs of his
ancestors. The poor emigrant who leaves for America or Australia,
gives a part of his earnings, so that, in case of death, his body
shall be brought back to China to sleep in the soil that contains the
dust of his ancestors. Thus the living are joined to the dead; and
those who have vanished from the earth, from the silent hills where
they sleep, still rule the most populous kingdom of the world.
One cannot leave China without a word in regard to its relations with
other countries. In this respect a great change has taken place within
this generation. The old exclusiveness is broken down. This has come
by war, and war which had not always a justifiable origin, however
good may have been its effects. The opium war in 1841 is not a thing
to be remembered by England with pride. The cause of that war was an
attempt by the Chinese government in 1839 to prevent the English
importation of opium. Never did a government make a more determined
effort to remove a terrible curse that was destroying its population.
Seeing the evil in all its enormity, it roused itself like a strong
man to shake it off. It imposed heavy penalties on the use of opium,
even going so far as to put some to death. But what could it do so
long as foreigners were selling opium in Canton, right before its
eyes? It resolved to break up the trade, to stop the importation. As a
last resort, it drew a cordon around the factories of the foreign
merchants, and brought them to terms by a truly Eastern strategy. It
did not attack them, nor touch a hair of their heads; but it assumed
that it had at least the right to exercise its authority over its own
people, by forbidding them to have any intercourse with foreigners.
Immediately every Chinese servant left them. No man could be had, for
love or money, to render them any service, or even to sell them food.
Thus they were virtually prisoners. This state of siege lasted about
six weeks. At the end of that time the British merchants surrendered
all the opium, at the order of their consular chief, Charles Elliot,
for him to hand it over to the Chinese; it amounted to 20,283 chests
(nearly three million pounds in weight), mostly on board ship at the
time. The Chinese received it at the mouth of the river, near the
Bogue Forts, and there destroyed it, by throwing it overboard, as our
fathers destroyed the tea in Boston harbor. To make sure work of it,
lest it should be recovered and used, they broke open the chests and
mixed it thoroughly with salt water. As it dissolved in the sea, it
killed great quantities of fish, but that opium at least never killed
any Chinamen.
This brought on war. Much has been said of other causes, but no one
familiar with affairs in the East doubts that the controlling motive
was a desire to force upon China the trade in opium which is one chief
source of the revenue of India.
The war lasted two years, and ended in a complete victory for the
foreigners. The Bogue Forts were bombarded, and foreign ships forced
their way up the river. Canton was ransomed just as it was to have
been attacked, but Amoy, Ningpo, Shanghai, and Chinkiang were
assaulted and captured. The war was finally terminated in 1842 by a
treaty, by the terms of which China paid to England six millions of
dollars for the opium which had been destroyed, and opened five ports
to foreign trade. This, though a gain to European and Indian commerce,
was a heavy blow to Canton, which, instead of being the only open
port, was but one of five. The trade, which before had been
concentrated here, now spread along the coast to Amoy, Fuhchau,
Ningpo, and Shanghai.
But the Ruler of Nations brings good out of evil. Wrong as was the
motive of the opium war, it cannot be doubted that sooner or later war
must have come from the attitude of China toward European nations. For
ages it had maintained a policy of exclusiveness. The rest of the
world were "outside barbarians." It repelled their advances, not only
with firmness, but almost with insult. While keeping this attitude of
resistance, as foreign commerce was continually knocking at its doors,
a collision was inevitable. Recognizing this, we cannot but regret
that it should have occurred for a cause in which China was in the
right, and England in the wrong.
In the wars of England and France with China, Europe has fought with
Asia, and has gotten the victory. Will it be content with what it has
gained, or will it press still further, and force China to the wall?
This is the question which I heard asked everywhere in Eastern Asia.
The English merchants find their interests thwarted by the obstinate
conservatism of the Chinese, and would be glad of an opportunity for a
naval or military demonstration--an occasion which the Chinese are
very careful not to give. There is an English fleet at Hong Kong, a
few hours' sail from Canton. The admiral who was to take command came
out with us on the steamer from Singapore. He was a gallant seaman,
and seemed like a man who would not willingly do injustice; and yet I
think his English blood would rise at the prospect of glory, if he
were to receive an order from London to transfer his fleet to the
Canton River, and lay it abreast of the city, or to force his way up
the Pei-ho. The English merchants would hail such an appearance in
these waters. Not content with the fifteen ports which they have now,
they want the whole of China opened to trade. But the Chinese think
they have got enough of it, and to any further invasion oppose a
quiet but steady resistance. The English are impatient. They want to
force an entrance, and to introduce not only the goods of Manchester,
but all the modern improvements--to have railroads all over China, as
in India, and steamers on all the rivers; and they think it very
unreasonable that the Chinese object. But there is another side to
this question. Such changes would disturb the whole internal commerce
of China. They would throw out of employment, not thousands nor tens
of thousands, but millions, who would perish in such an economical and
industrial revolution as surely as by the waters of a deluge. An
English missionary at Canton told me that it would not be possible to
make any sudden changes, such as would be involved in the general
introduction of railroads, or of labor-saving machines in place of the
labor of human hands, without inflicting immense suffering. There are
millions of people who now keep their heads just above water, and that
by standing on their toes and stretching their necks, who would be
drowned if it should rise an inch higher. The least agitation of the
waters, and they would be submerged. Can we wonder that they hesitate
to be sacrificed, and beg their government to move slowly?
America has had no part in the wars with China, although it is said
that in the attack on the forts at the mouth of the Pei-ho, when the
English ships were hard pressed, American sailors went on board of one
of them, and volunteered to serve at the guns, whether from pure love
of the excitement of battle, or because they felt, as Commodore
Tatnall expressed it, that "blood was thicker than water," is not
recorded.[12] American sailors and soldiers will never be wanting in
any cause which concerns their country's interest and honor. But
hitherto it has been our good fortune to come into no armed collision
with the Chinese, and hence the American name is in favor along the
coast. Our country is represented, not so much by ships of war as by
merchants and missionaries. The latter, though few in number, by their
wisdom as well as zeal, have done much to conciliate favor and command
respect. They are not meddlers nor mischief-makers. They do not belong
to the nation that has forced opium upon China, though often obliged
to hear the taunt that is hurled against the whole of the
English-speaking race. In their own quiet spheres, they have labored
to diffuse knowledge and to exhibit practical Christianity. They have
opened schools and hospitals, as well as churches. In Canton, a
generation ago, Dr. Peter Parker opened a hospital, which is still
continued, and which receives about nine hundred every year into its
wards, besides some fifteen thousand who are treated at the doors. For
twenty years it was in charge of Dr. Kerr, who nearly wore himself out
in his duties; and is now succeeded by Dr. Carrow, a young physician
who left a good practice in Jersey City to devote himself to this
work. Hundreds undergo operation for the stone--a disease quite common
in the South, but which Chinese surgery is incompetent to treat--and
who are here rescued from a lingering death. That is the way American
Christianity should be represented in China. In Calcutta I saw the
great opium ships bound for Hong Kong. Let England have a monopoly of
that trade, but let America come to China with healing in one hand and
the Gospel in the other.
Nor is this all which American missionaries have done. They have
rendered a service--not yet noticed as it should be--to literature,
and in preparing the way for the intercourse of China with other
nations. An American missionary, Dr. Martin, is President of the
University at Peking, established by the government. Dr. S. Wells
Williams, in the more than forty years of his residence in China, has
prepared a Chinese-English Dictionary, which I heard spoken of
everywhere in the East as the best in existence. In other ways his
knowledge of the language and the people has been of service both to
China and to America, during his twenty-one years' connection with the
Legation. And if American diplomacy has succeeded in gaining many
substantial advantages for our country, while it has skilfully avoided
wounding the susceptibilities of the Chinese, the success is due in no
small degree to this modest American missionary.
De Quincey said if he were to live in China, he should go mad. No
wonder. The free English spirit could not be so confined. There is
something in this enormous population, weighed down with the
conservatism of ages, that oppresses the intellect. It is a forced
stagnation. China is a boundless and a motionless ocean. Its own
people may not feel it, but one accustomed to the free life of Europe
looks upon it as a vast Dead Sea, in whose leaden waters nothing can
live.
But even this Dead Sea is beginning to stir with life. There is a
heaving, as when the Polar Ocean breaks up, and the liberated waves
sweep far and wide--
"Swinging low with sullen roar."
Such is the sound which is beginning to be heard on all the shores of
Asia. Since foreigners have begun to come into China, the Chinese go
abroad more than ever before. There is developed a new spirit of
emigration. Not only do they come to California, but go to Australia,
and to all the islands of Southern Asia. They are the most
enterprising as well as the most industrious of emigrants. They have
an extraordinary aptitude for commerce. They are in the East what the
Jews are in other parts of the world--the money-changers, the
mercantile class, the petty traders; and wherever they come, they are
sure to "pick up" and to "go ahead." Who can put bounds to such a
race, that not content with a quarter of Asia, overflows so much of
the remaining parts of the Eastern hemisphere?
On our Pacific Coast the Chinese have appeared as yet only as laborers
and servants, or as attempting the humblest industries. Their
reception has not been such as we can regard with satisfaction and
pride. Poor John Chinaman! Patient toiler on the railroad or in the
mine, yet doomed to be kicked about in the land whose prosperity he
has done so much to promote. There is something very touching in his
love for his native country--a love so strong that he desires even in
death to be carried back to be buried in the land which gave him
birth. Some return living, only to tell of a treatment in strange
contrast with that which our countrymen have received in China, as
well as in violation of the solemn obligations of treaties. We cannot
think of this cruel persecution but with indignation at our country's
shame.
No one can visit China without becoming interested in the country and
its people. There is much that is good in the Chinese, in their
patient industry, and in their strong domestic feeling. Who can but
respect a people that honor their fathers and mothers in a way to
furnish an example to the whole Christian world? who indeed exaggerate
their reverence to such a degree that they even worship their
ancestors? The mass of the people are miserably poor, but they do not
murmur at their lot. They take it patiently, and even cheerfully; for
they see in it a mixture of dark and bright. In their own beautiful
and poetical saying: "The moon shines bright amid the firs." May it
not only shine through the gloom of deep forests, but rise higher and
higher, till it casts a flood of light over the whole Eastern sky!
FOOTNOTE:
[12] As this incident has excited a great deal of interest, I am happy
to give it as it occurred from an eye-witness. One who was on board of
Commodore Tatnall's ship writes:
"I was present at the battle in the Pei-ho in 1859, and know all the
particulars. Admiral Hope having been wounded, was urged to bring up
the marines before sunset, and sent his aid down to take them off the
three junks, where they were waiting at the mouth of the river. The
aid came on board the "Toeywan" to see Commodore Tatnall, tell him the
progress of the battle, and what he had been sent down for, adding
that, as the tide was running out, it would be hard work getting up
again. As he went on, Tatnall began to get restless, and turning to me
(I sat next), said: 'Blood is thicker than water; I don't care if they
do take away my commission.' Then turning to his own flag-lieutenant
at the other end of the table, he said aloud: 'Get up steam;' and
everything was ready for a start in double-quick time. When all was
prepared, the launches, full of marines, were towed into action by the
"Toeywan"; and casting them off, the Commodore left in his barge to go
on board the British flag-ship, to see the wounded Admiral. On the way
his barge was hit, his coxswain killed, and the rest just managed to
get on board the "Lee" before their boat sunk, owing their lives
probably to his presence of mind. It was only the men in this boat's
crew who helped to work the British guns. I suppose Tatnall never
meant his words to be repeated, but Hope's aid overheard them, and
thus immortalized them."