CHINESE OPIUM-DENS.
In Virginia City, as in all other places where there is a considerable
Chinese population, are found opium-dens. These are sometimes on the
first floor, but are generally in a cellar or basement. We will take a
look at one not in any building: it is a subterranean opium-den—a cave
of oblivion:—
In the side of a little hill in the eastern part of the Chinese quarter
of Virginia City is to be seen a low door of rough boards. An open cut,
dug in the slope of the hill and walled with rough rocks, leads to the
door. The boards forming the door and its frame are blackened by smoke,
particularly at the top, for the den has neither chimney nor flue. The
surface of the hill forms its roof. All that is to be seen on the
outside is the door and the walled entrance leading up to it. Not a
sound is heard within or about the place. The cave of the Seven Sleepers
was not more silent. But gently pushing the door, it opens—opens as
noiselessly as though hinged in cups of oil.
At first we can see nothing, save a small lamp suspended from the centre
of the ceiling. This lamp burns with a dull red light that illuminates
nothing. It seems more like a distant fiery star than anything mundane.
Though at first we see nothing but the lamp, gradually our eyes adapt
themselves to the dim light, and we can make out the walls and some of
the larger objects in the place. A voice says: “What you want?” Looking
in the direction whence proceeds the inquiry, we see a sallow old
Mongolian seated near a small table. He is the proprietor of the den.
“What you want?” he repeats. We feel that we have no business where we
are, but to speak the truth is always best, therefore we simply say, in
pigeon-English: “Me comee see your smokee saloon.” The old fellow
settles one elbow on the table before him, and makes a remark which
appears to be the Chinese equivalent for “Humph!”
[Illustration: “THE HEATHEN CHINEE.”]
Before this taciturn dispenser of somnial drugs are a number of little
horn boxes of opium, several opium-pipes, small scales for weighing,
with beam of bone, covered with black dots instead of figures; small
steel spatulas, wire probes, and other smoking-apparatus.
We now observe that two sides of the den are fitted up with bunks, one
above the other, like the berths on shipboard. A cadaverous opium-smoker
is seen in nearly every bunk. These men are in various stages of stupor.
Each lies upon a scrap of grass mat or old blanket. Before him is a
small alcohol lamp burning with a blue flame which gives out but little
light—only enough to cast a sickly glare upon the corpse-like face of
the smoker, as he holds his pipe in the flame, and by a long draught
inhales and swallows the smoke of the loved drug. These fellows are
silent as dead men, and seem unconscious of our presence. Occasionally,
at a sign, the proprietor arises and furnishes the customer a fresh
supply of the drug. The peculiar sweetish-bitter odor of the burning
opium fills and saturates the whole place—one can almost taste it.
While the majority, lying upon their sides, and propped on one elbow,
are calmly inhaling their dose, a few appear to have had enough. These
lie with their heads resting upon short sections of bamboo, which serve
this curious people as pillows, and move no more than dead men. The eyes
of some are wide open, as in a fixed stare, while those of others are
partially or wholly closed. If they have any of those heavenly visions
of which we are told, they keep them to themselves; as, save in a few
somniloquous mutterings, they utter no sound. The door is gently opened,
and a gaunt, wild-eyed Mongolian slips stealthily in. The old man at the
table merely elevates his eyes. The newcomer steps out of his sandals
and, making no more noise than a cat, crosses the earthen floor of the
room and creeps into a vacant bunk. The boss of this cavern of Morpheus
now raises his elbows from the table, takes up a pipe and its
belongings, sleepily lights one of the small alcohol lamps, and then
places the whole before his customer. The old man then returns to his
table and sits down. Not a word is spoken.
Thus the business of the cavern goes on, day and night, and this is all
of opium-smoking that appears on the surface, tales of travellers to the
contrary notwithstanding. What shapes may appear to the sleepers, or
what flight their souls may take into interstellar regions, we know not.
To a looker-on it is all vapid, vacuous stupefaction.
Not a few white men in Virginia City—and a few women—are opium-smokers.
They visit the Chinese opium dens two or three times a week. They say
that the effect is exhilarating—that it is the same as intoxication
produced by drinking liquor, except that under the influence of opium a
man has all his senses, and his brain is almost supernaturally bright
and clear. An American told me that he had been an opium-smoker for
eighteen years, and said there were about fifty persons in Virginia City
who were of the initiated. In San Francisco he says there are over five
hundred white opium-smokers, many women among them.
During summer, men who have for sale all manner of quack nostrums, men
with all kinds of notions for sale, street-shows, beggars, singers, men
with electrical-machines, apparatus for testing the strength of the
lungs, and a thousand other similar things, flock to Virginia City. Of
evenings, when the torches of these parties of peddlers, showmen, and
quack doctors are all lighted and all are in full cry, a great fair
seems to be under headway in the principal street of the town—there is a
perfect Babel of cries and harangues.
The man with the electrical-machine, for instance, leads off with:
“Who is the next gentleman who wishes to try the battery? It makes the
old man feel young, and the young man feel strong. Remember,
gentlemen, that a quarter of a dollar pays the bill. Try the battery!
Try the battery! Bear in mind that there can be nothing applied equal
to it, as it is one of nature’s own remedies. A quarter of a dollar
places you in a position to have your nervous system electrified. The
small sum of one quarter of a—Try the battery, sir? The small sum of
one quarter of a dollar pays the whole entire bill. Who is the next
man to try the battery? Try the battery! Try the battery and improve
your health while you have the opportunity. Who is the next man that
wishes to—Try the battery, sir? Try the battery! Try the battery!
Purifies the blood, strengthens the nervous system; cures headaches,
toothaches, neuralgia, and all diseases of the nervous system. Can be
applied to a child six months old as well as to a full-grown person.
Try the battery! Try the battery! Re-e-emember, gentlemen, that the
sma-a-all and tri-i-fling sum of o-one quarter of a dollar pays the
whole entire—Try the battery, sir? Try the battery! Try the battery!
Can regulate the instrument to suit all constitutions. Try the
battery! Re-e-member that electricity is life. It is what you, each
and every one of you, require, and it is utterly impossible for you to
live without it. Try the battery! Try the battery!”
The soap-root tooth-powder man next starts in with his little talk:
“Gentlemen, I have here three little articles, and I start out by
telling you that they are all three humbugs. But starting out with
this proposition that they are all humbugs, I only do so in order that
before I get through I may [Try the battery!] disprove said
proposition to your entire satisfaction. I will first show you a
little article called [Try the battery! Try the battery!] the
California Soap-root Tooth-powder. Years ago, gentlemen, about 75
miles northeast of Waterville, in the State of California, I saw the
Indians [Try the battery!] washing their clothes with this root. I
examined it and found [One quarter of a dollar pays the entire bill!]
it was a wonderful production of nature, gentlemen. I found that it
[Makes the old man feel young, and the young man feel strong!] grew in
abundance in the mountains. I procured a quantity of it and took it to
[Try the battery, sir?] San Francisco, when I began to [Try the
battery!] to try [Try the battery!] experiments with it. The result
was, gentlemen, that I produced this beautiful article which [Purifies
the blood, strengthens the nervous system, and improves your general
health!] instantly removes all stains from the teeth and [A quarter of
a dollar pays the whole entire bill!] leaves the breath pure and
sweet. [Try the battery!]”
The German ballad-singer now comes to the front:
“Lauterbach hab’ i mein’ Strumpf verlorn,
Ohne Strumpf geh’ i not hoam,
Geh’ i halt weider auf Lauterbach,
Kauf’ mir an Strumpf zu dem oan.
Tillee leari, oiko, hi oiko, hi oiko!
Tillee oiko, oiko. Tilli oi-i-oi-oiko!
Tillee leari—[Try the battery!] hi oiko!
Z’ Lauterbach hab’ i mein Herz verlorn,
Ohne Herz kann i not [Try the battery!] leb’n.”
Clem Berry (Scipio Africanus) now takes the field:
“Only two dollars, gentlemen, takes you to Reno by this splendid
Concord coach, landing you there at 6 o’clock in the evening, when you
may [Try the battery!] sleep till the train arrives [Seventy-five
miles northeast of Weaverville, in the State of California, where I
saw the Indians—] from the East, when you [Try the battery!] get
aboard [which removes all stains from the teeth] at the same time as
the passengers by the Virginia and Truckee Railroad [Tillee oiko,
hioiko!] and [Try the battery!] are perfectly fresh—[Oi-i-oi-oiko!]”
The spotted boy, dwarf, and big snakes now loom up, and we hear that:
“This wonderful spotted boy was captured in the wilds of Africa
[Seventy-five miles northeast of Weaverville—] with his strange
companion [Lauterbach], the huge boa constructor, which you see [Try
the battery!] him handle with the greatest possible [Hioiko!] freedom
[without causing the gums to bleed]. And here is the wonderful little
Fairy Queen, 18 years of age, and only thirty-one inches in height.
She was born [Ohne Strumpf] in Grand Rapids, [Seventy-five miles
northeast of Weaverville], Wisconsin; has a thorough education, and
possesses [A splendid Concord coach!] the [Small sum of one quarter of
a dollar] graces and manners becoming a [Lauterbach] lady of the
highest [Hioiko!] standing in society.”
All hands round:
“Get right aboard here, now, and at 6 o’clock I’ll land you at Reno,
seventy-five miles northeast of Weaverville, in the wilds of Africa,
where I saw the Indian thirty-one inches in height, born at Grand
Rapids, try the battery and take all the stains out of the wonderful
spotted boy, who only eats once in four months, and sheds his skin
twice a year. Having been educated in a convent in Milwaukee, geh i
not hoam to try the battery, when the big white snake eats the little
girl across the way you’ll get a drink for a bit, and see the sea-lion
try the battery free, up in the mountains this wonderful Lauterbach
soap-root climbs a tree and then hangs by the tail, tilee leari, oiko
hi oiko! which purifies the blood, strengthens the nerves of the
spotted boy, cleanses the teeth, and does not fear to encounter either
the lion or the tiger, being able to regulate the instrument to suit
all constitutions.”
In Virginia City, as well as in all the towns and cities on the Pacific
Coast, gold and silver coin is the only money in circulation. There are
now in circulation at least two American coins almost unknown in other
parts of the Union—the trade-dollar and the twenty-five cent piece—as
their coinage was not authorized until after greenbacks became a legal
tender, and had taken possession of the Atlantic States to the exclusion
of all coin, except copper and nickle.
The trade-dollar was coined for our trade with China and Japan. It was
coined expressly to supersede the Mexican dollar in the countries named.
It contains a trifle more silver than the Mexican dollar, and the
Chinese were not long in ascertaining this fact. Now the American
trade-dollar is in great demand both in China and Japan, and the old
Mexican dollar is thrown completely into the shade. The Chinese and
Japanese are great lovers of silver, and the American trade-dollar,
being pure silver, is preferred by them to the coin of any other nation.
The end—the final fate—of the trade-dollar, however, is inglorious. It
is sent to India by the Chinese for the purchase of opium. In India they
are sent to the Calcutta mint and are there made into rupees, stamped
with the value on one side and on the other outlandish heathen
characters. Thus the silver of the big bonanza fills the opium-pipe of
the Chinese mandarin. The amount of American silver sent to India to pay
for opium is very great.
The Chinese in Nevada and in all other towns on the Pacific Coast
industriously gather trade-dollars which they send to the head men of
their companies in San Francisco, by whom they are shipped to China.
Persons who have but lately arrived from States where no coin is seen,
are astonished at the abundance of silver in Virginia City, and
delighted to be in a place where they may once again hear the almost
forgotten jingle of gold and silver; though I once heard a New York lady
say: “I never saw such a place. I hear nothing but the jingle of money
from one end of the town to the other. The people all go about jingling
their money as though on purpose to show that they are able to pay their
way!”
To the impecunious new arrivals—the weary and tattered immigrants—this
jingling of coin must be still more aggravating.
A gentleman in Virginia City one day told a story about slipping a
silver half-dollar into the gaping coat pocket of a grasshopper sufferer
who was gazing hungrily in at the window of a restaurant. The man
continued looking at the good things displayed in the window for some
time, devouring them in imagination, then, heaving a sigh, turned away.
As he was moving off, however, he carelessly, and through force of
habit, as it were, put his hand into his pocket. Bringing forth the
silver coin the instant his hand came in contact with it, the fellow
gazed upon it with a face which wore a look of astonishment comical to
behold. Finally he seemed to conclude that it was all right, the Lord
had sent it, when he retraced his steps to the restaurant and soon was
seated before that which was probably the first square meal he had faced
in some days.
A Comstocker, who heard this story told, relates that he concluded he
would experiment a little in the same direction. If half a dollar had
power to so astound an impecunious immigrant, he would try the effect of
a trade-dollar. Procuring a bright, new trade-dollar, he sallied forth
in search of a subject. He had not travelled far until he saw before him
a young man of most rueful countenance—an undoubted grasshopper
sufferer. The man was leaning against a lamp-post on a street corner,
his face elongated, his mouth standing negligently open, and his
half-closed eyes gazing wearily up among the fleecy clouds, as though he
were wishing himself dead and taking his ease as an angel, far away in
the realms above.
The Comstocker saw that here was his man, and, passing near the dreamer,
slily slid the trade-dollar into the capacious pocket of his butternut
coat, then taking up a position a few paces distant, awaited
developments. He had not long to wait. Soon, in shifting his position,
the grasshopper man mechanically placed his hand in his pocket, and, as
was to be seen by the general awakening of his features, was not a
little surprised to find something where he had supposed there was
nothing. When he brought out the big bright dollar, his eyes almost
started from their sockets, and he looked as though about to fall down
in a fit of some kind. However, after a gasp or two he appeared to
recover somewhat, and glancing curiously, and in a bewildered sort of
way, at all standing near him, started across the street, carefully
fobbing the dollar as he went.
By the time he had gone half across the street, he appeared to change
his mind. After gazing back and scratching his head for half a minute,
he returned to the post and taking up his old position, spread open the
pocket of his coat to its fullest extent. He had concluded to set it
again.