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A year in China

Chapter 15: CHAPTER XIII.
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About This Book

A traveler recounts a year-long voyage to China, narrating stops at Atlantic and Indian Ocean ports and passage through the Straits of Malacca to Singapore, Hong Kong, Macao, and Whampoa. The narrative blends detailed descriptions of harbors, markets, gardens, temples, funerary customs, festivals, and colonial society with attentive portraits of domestic life among Chinese women and practical notes on shipping, consular duties, and local institutions. Observational chapters record language, social customs, and daily routines, and the return journey concludes with a dramatic episode of capture and imprisonment by a rebel pirate, which punctuates an otherwise ethnographic and travel-focused account.

CHAPTER XIII.

Mr. Johnson had been for some time anxious to send his only son, Master Charlie,—a lad in his fifteenth year,—home to be educated; and it was accordingly arranged that he should be my compagnon du voyage. Our passage to New York was taken in the clipper ship Jacob Bell, which was then loading at Fuh-chau,—a port situated about three hundred miles north of Swatow. The Jacob Bell was expected to be ready to put to sea by the 15th or 20th of October; and Mr. W——, having received leave of absence to go on to Fuh-chau, and to remain there until we sailed, our preparations were soon made, and on the 10th of that month, bidding adieu, with many regrets, to the kind friends we had met at the island, and once more embarking on board the English steamer Undine, we were soon sailing up the coast, en route to Fuh-chau.

Although steaming against a northeast monsoon, we arrived at Amoy[34] the next day; and the vessel remaining there three days, not only enjoyed a quiet and church-going Sunday, but, as far as health would permit, were able to see something of the place. Some of the small islands, which form the boundary of the bay seaward, are surmounted with pagodas and temples; which, together with the high hills and verdant country in the background of the city of Amoy, renders an approach to the place from the sea charmingly picturesque.

The town is built on a large island, called Hiamun, or island of Amoy, which according to Dr. Williams, is forty miles in circumference. The same author also states the circumference of the city and its suburbs to be about eight miles, containing a population of 300,000, while that of the island is estimated at 100,000 more. Most of the foreign residents live on the lovely island of Ku-lang-su, or the “drum wave island,”[35] which lies in the harbor, directly opposite the city. The house of Mr. Bradford—our consul—is on this island,—the little avenue leading to it being bordered with beautiful palms.

On Sunday we attended the Mission Chapel, where the Rev. W. C. Burns—a missionary of the English Presbyterian Mission—performed the religious services. Mr. Burns—who always wears the Chinese costume—frequently travels into the interior of the country, and visiting the cities and villages, prepares the way for the permanent settlement of other missionaries. He has been several years engaged in his heaven-directed work,—having assumed the native dress at the outset, in order as much as possible to go unobserved among the people. In this garb he is able to enter new places quite unmolested, and easily gains the attention of the multitudes which throng the streets of all Chinese towns. He labored at one time in the district of Swatow, and was imprisoned for Christ’s sake at the city of Chau-chau-fu, at the time that As-sune,—Mr. Johnson’s old teacher—suffered for his Divine Master. From recent information I learn that, in the region about Amoy, the labors of Mr. Burns, in connection with the efforts of other missionaries, have been greatly blessed, and that many of the people have embraced Christianity. These native converts, however, have suffered severe persecution; and their enemies, in order to entirely root out Christianity, at one time threatened to drive them from their homes and property. The missionaries, however, appealed to Mr. Pedder—the English Consul at Amoy—for their protection; which being obtained, according to the treaties made at Tien-tsin, the persecutors entered into a bond not to interfere with the native converts; and in a few days the Mandarins issued a proclamation stating that the matter was settled, and forbidding the people to molest any persons “who may enter the holy religion of Jesus.” There is a very prosperous mission of the American Dutch Reformed Board established at Amoy; and to the Rev. Mr. Doty—who has for more than twenty years been one of its most efficient and devoted missionaries—we were indebted for various kind civilities. Mr. Doty had just recovered from a slight attack of fever; and it was evident that his long residence within the tropics was telling disastrously upon his health. We observed, however, that his deep interest in the Mission cause made the thought of leaving his post exceedingly painful.

Every city in China is noted for some article of manufacture peculiarly its own; and the Amoy bracelet—formed of olive-stones exquisitely carved, is a unique ornament of rare elegance. Beautiful brooches, also, carved in pseudo sandal-wood,—which is of the color of the olive-stone,—are made to match the bracelets. These ornaments are much in request among the foreigners visiting Amoy, and are particularly sought after by the English, who send them home, where they are said to be highly prized. The Amoy pumelo,[36]—which is noted for being superior to any grown elsewhere,—was in perfection at the time of our visit. This delicious fruit gained but little in its change of name, when introduced by Captain Shaddock into the West Indies.

Leaving Amoy on Monday afternoon, we met a very heavy monsoon sea outside the harbor, and before nine o’clock had a stiff breeze, which finally increased to a gale, and made our passage to Fuh-chau very tempestuous. The next evening, however, we reached the three islands called the White Dogs, which lie off the mouth of the river Min, and anchored under the lee of one of them, where we remained until the next morning, when at flood tide, crossing the bar at the mouth of the river, we sailed up the latter to the Pagoda anchorage. Fuh-chau is situated about forty miles from the mouth of the river; and the passage being difficult, large vessels proceed no farther than this anchorage, which is off an island of the same name.

Thirteen or fourteen miles from the mouth of the Min, the stream, for the distance of nearly three miles, is less than half a mile wide, with the water from twelve to twenty-five fathoms deep. The hills rise on each side of this pass to the height of from fifteen hundred to two thousand feet, and are defended by forts. Dr. Williams has well said that “the scenery on this river, though of a different character, will bear comparison with that of the Hudson for sublimity and beauty. The hills are, however, much higher on the Min.” On sailing up the river the scenery varies, although the bold and romantic hills give a certain uniformity to the stream. These elevations are for the most part covered with verdure, while those of a less rocky and rough surface are terraced, and cultivated to their summits. At two points near which we sailed we observed establishments for firing or curing tea, and some of the furnaces were so situated as to be in full view. In the valleys, and upon the low lands bordering the river above the narrow pass, we observed small hamlets and extensive farms, furnished with buildings, and orchards of fruit-trees, which, from our point of view, seemed more like country life at the West than anything we saw in China.

On reaching the Pagoda anchorage,—which is at the termination of ship navigation on the Min,—we learned that the Jacob Bell would not be ready to sail for two or three weeks, during which time, through the kind hospitality of the house of Messrs. Olyphant & Co., we were entertained at their residence in Fuh-chau.[37] With the exception of Hong Kong and Macao, there are no hotels for the accommodation of foreigners in any of the ports of Southern China. At every place, however, strangers meet with the most agreeable hospitality from the foreign residents, who throw open their houses and welcome them with a delicate heartiness and kind sincerity which no grateful words can overpraise. Their houses are spacious; and as every one travels with a servant who takes charge of his apartment, the guest is quite as much at home as he would be in his own house.

We made the sail from the anchorage to the city of Fuh-chau—which is about twelve miles further up the river—in a pleasure-boat belonging to the Imperial Customs. The boat, which was large, and furnished with sails,—although differently constructed from the Canton “matrimonials,”—had a cabin which was fitted up in a similar manner. When leaving the anchorage we not only had the tide with us, but the wind was also favorable, and until we had taken one or two turns in the river,—which brought us under the lee of a considerable mountain,—we sailed with very good speed. We then, however, came to a dead calm; but after our eight stalwart Fuh-chauan boatmen had been for a long time sitting quietly and waiting for a propitious wind, we heard a low, wind-like whistle, and as it became louder discovered that, sailor-like, they were whistling to call to their aid a friendly breeze. How long this would have lasted I cannot say, as here Mr. W—— interposed, ordering the chief man to bid them take to their oars, which they readily did; and while plying them sang in a nasal, and at times in a harsh, guttural tone a monotonous refrain, to which they not only kept time with their oars, but also with their feet. Landing at the hong of Messrs. Olyphant & Co., we were soon comfortably domiciled in their new and spacious mansion, which occupies a beautiful location, upon a fine eminence, on the south bank of the river, where most of the foreigners have their residences.

Fuh-chau-fu—or the Happy City—is built in a plain, through which flows the river Min. This plain is entirely surrounded by mountains, forming a vast amphitheatre of about twenty miles in diameter, in the northern part of which the city is situated, while the river enters it from the northwest, through a narrow pass said to be similar to the one we have described as occurring fourteen miles from its mouth. The land is of great fertility, and that part of it unoccupied by the city is intersected by little canals, and covered with cultivated fields, which are interspersed with hamlets, cottages, orchards, gardens, and beautifully wooded knolls. The Rev. R. S. Maclay, in his “Life among the Chinese,” says that “the city proper is surrounded by a substantial wall built compactly of brick, and resting on a foundation of granite. The wall is about twenty feet high and ten feet thick, surmounted by a parapet five feet high, with bastions at regular intervals. The gateways are of great size and strength, and so constructed that a small force in charge of them could hold at bay almost any number of attacking troops.”

The extensive southern suburb—called the suburb of Nantai—reaches three miles from the south wall to the river, and stretches along both sides of the stream. Along the southern shore, and particularly upon the handsomely swelling hill beyond, this suburb is not as densely built. It is, however, the centre of both the native and foreign trade; and the business hongs of the foreigners are situated near the river, while their residences occupy the eminence that overlooks them. From this hill the south gate of the city—which is six miles distant—is reached by a single street. The two bridges spanning the river are substantially built of granite, and are connected by a little islet in the river, which is called by the natives chang-chau.[38] The bridge crossing the northern branch of the river—which is called “The Bridge of Ten Thousand Ages”—is composed of twenty-six spans, each measuring twenty feet, and is furnished with a stone balustrade. The piers and spans are constructed of granite; and the floor of the bridge is also formed of the same material. The bridge crossing that portion of the stream, between the island and the southern bank of the river, is built in the same manner, but comprises only nine arches. These remarkable structures—over which crowds of people are continually passing and repassing—are said to be at least a thousand years old.

Ill-health prevented my thoroughly “doing” the city; but being guests for two days in the family of the Rev. Mr. Hartwell,—one of the missionaries of the American Board, who was living within the walls,—we visited a few places of interest, and learned more in regard to the city proper than I could otherwise have done.

The street of six miles, which we traversed in going through the suburb of Nantai, on our way to the south gate of the city, is lined on both sides with shops and residences, and always crowded from morn till night with a busy, jostling, and noisy moving mass of shopmen, mechanics, hucksters, and the bearers of heavy burdens. We had up to this time considered ourselves thoroughly acquainted with the power and depth of the lungs of a Chinaman, and supposed that the deafening vociferations and noisy cries, that we had heard in the streets of Canton, could not be emulated; but after our brawny sedan-bearers had threaded their way through the suburb of Nantai, and, entering the city gate, were trotting briskly through North and South Street, we cheerfully awarded the palm to the sturdy, rough, and noisy Fuh-chauan. The increase of vile odors also, as compared with Canton, was in the same ratio; while the people, as a whole, looked much stouter,—or rather more brawny,—as well as rougher and poorer. At different places along the street we observed establishments, furnished with chairs and little tables, where people were drinking tea, and refreshing themselves with food. These places—which reminded us of the restaurants of the West—are called tea-pavilions. Very soon after passing one of these places—which was not far from the south gate—we were surprised at having our eyes greeted with the sight of a church, which has been built at that central point by the American Methodist Episcopal Mission. The edifice—which reminded us, in its exterior, of some of the village churches at home—is built with a cupola, and furnished with a bell. It is well located to attract the crowds of people who, during the day, always throng that great thoroughfare, and, at any hour it is only necessary to throw open the doors in order to gather a congregation.

The principal street within the walled city—which is called Nanka, that is, South Street—runs from the south gate nearly to the north, and is therefore usually called by the Europeans North and South Street. For a Chinese town, it is a wide and well-paved street, and in it are located the finest shops in the city. This place had been open to foreigners for so short a time that we were more of a curiosity, while in Nanka Street, than in any spot that we visited while in China. In fact, when entering some extensive china shops, we were so pressed upon and closely pursued by the crowd on stepping out of our chairs that we were obliged to rush through the front apartments of the shops into the large warerooms beyond, in order to escape them. The gentlemen and Master Charlie were in open chairs, and the latter was an object of special interest. A foreign boy of fourteen years is rarely seen in the streets of a Chinese city, and of course our young friend was a great lion to the curious Fuh-chauans, who turned their heads and gazed after him as long as he could be seen.

In Fuh-chau,—as in Canton,—the residences of the Mandarins, and other persons of position and wealth, are in the western portion of the town, and it is said that some of their establishments are arranged and furnished in a style indicating refinement and good taste. The city and its suburbs contain half a million of inhabitants, who are a very energetic, persevering, and independent people, and are also represented as being more or less refractory, and consequently not over polite. Indeed they are much less courteous than the Cantonese; and a foreigner from the south of China will quickly observe their harsh, guttural dialect, as well as their independent bearing. The boat-people are numerous, and the river—like all rivers near Chinese cities—presents an animated picture. The boat-women have also a fashion of wearing flowers in their hair; which, together with the flower-pots that ornament nearly all the boats, give the scene a peculiarly attractive aspect. The women, in fact, of all classes are in the habit of dressing their heads with flowers; and however gray the hair, or bald the head, or soiled and tattered the garments, these beautiful ornaments, tastefully arranged in little bouquets, are seen fastened with metal pins to the side, or near the top of the head. The pins used are ornamental, and we observed some made of silver wire that matched well with the hoop-rings of extraordinary circumference which they wore in their ears. Many of these floral ornaments were composed of china-asters of exquisite tints, which, in regard to the contrast of colors, showed much fine taste in their arrangement. Not unfrequently bouquets are worn on both sides of the head; and the charming effect of these decorations, as viewed in the constantly changing crowds which one encounters in the streets, must be seen in order to be fully appreciated. No description—at least none that I can give—is adequate to the subject. Natural flowers are much in favor with these women, although many of them wear artificial ones; and for the purpose of answering the constant demand which this fashion has created, artificial flowers are extensively manufactured. Upon many of these I observed butterflies of brilliant hues, which were represented as having alighted to taste their sweets. Of course the flowers made for the use of the ladies are much more elegant and expensive than those used by the lower classes. The field-flowers, however,—which are particularly designed for the latter,—are very beautiful.

There are two Confucian temples within the walls of the city; one of which having been burned a few years ago, has since been rebuilt, on a grand scale, by the Mandarins, and is said to be the finest building in the town. The main temple has a lofty portico, and a fretted roof which is supported by huge columns of granite. From this temple we went to a picturesque elevation overlooking the city, and the whole amphitheatre of hills in the midst of which it is built, and which is called Wu-shih-shan, or Black-stone Hill. At one place, more than half way up the steep and rugged ascent of this hill, there is a Buddhist temple, with ornamental buildings scattered here and there; and upon the highest point there is also an altar, constructed of stone, which supports a sort of iron vase, in which the superstitious Fuh-chauans—who resort thither thrice a year for the purpose of worshipping the heavens and the earth—burn their incense-paper.

Strong sedan-bearers carried me with much apparent ease for some distance above the monastery, from which point I clambered up the remainder of the rock-ribbed summit, where the widely extended and beautiful view, not only of the city but of the mountains, the hills, and the rice-fields on the low land,—with the river and little canals intersecting the latter,—more than repaid for the fatigue which I encountered. The view of the city from this point is one of great interest; the two nine-storied pagodas,[39] together with the watch-towers on the walls, greatly relieving the monotony of the low, tiled roofs; while the scene is still further diversified by the great numbers of noble old banian-trees for which Fuh-chau is noted.[40]

Passing down the other side of the Wu-shih-shan, we reached the city wall, and continued our walk upon it until we came to the south gate. The top and sides of these walls were everywhere covered with vines, grass, and lovely ferns.

Some of the mountains, five or six miles below the city, are two or three thousand feet high. One of these, called Kushan Peak, has already become something of a sanatarium for foreigners; and the place is also noted as being the location of one of the most extensive and celebrated Buddhist monasteries in China, which is situated far up the side of the mountain, occupying a charming spot, only a few hundred feet from the top of the peak. Strangers visiting Fuh-chau usually make a pilgrimage to this spot; but the ascent of two or three miles—although it could have been accomplished in a mountain-chair—was too formidable an undertaking for an invalid, and I was obliged to be contented with a view of the broad and well-made path leading up to it. This path, which is shaded most of the way by lofty pines, has “rest-houses” erected along its winding course; and in the vicinity of the monastery—which commands a prospect stretching far away among the distant mountains and fertile valleys—huge camphor-trees are growing.

The hills and mountain-sides on the south bank of the river are covered with graves and tombs, interspersed among which are beautiful little groves of lofty pines, and occasional patches of land where a plant is cultivated, whose flowers are used for the purpose of scenting tea; or, perhaps, the spot is used for vegetables. The graves of the Mandarins are always expensive. On our excursions, however, to enjoy the cool evening air, we frequently passed a new tomb of the Greek-letter form, which was built with a tasteful, altar-like arrangement, where the offerings were placed at the time of ancestral worship. This was one of the most costly and showy tombs I ever saw, and was simply the sepulchre of a private gentleman of great wealth. Many of the foreign residences look out upon this vast cemetery, and the delightful house at which we were guests was built in the midst of these tombs and tumuli. The spot on which it stands, and the compound surrounding it, were originally used for the same purpose. When it was purchased, however, the friends of the dead removed their remains. There are some very ancient tombs, situated near the wall enclosing the grounds of this residence, which have been occupied several hundred years.

Low buildings, constructed of wood, and of sufficient height to admit of three or four rows of shelves for the support of coffins, are also scattered here and there in this vast resting-place of the dead. Within them, closely sealed, coffined relics are placed, and remain until what the surviving friends consider a “lucky day” arrives, and then, the “lucky spot” in which to inter them being procured, they are buried. I was assured that not unfrequently years elapsed before everything was regarded as propitious for the interment of these remains. And also learned that some were placed there because of the poverty of their friends, and were left until the latter could afford the expense of a fitting burial. We observed that many of these temporary little wooden sepulchres were so old and dilapidated that the coffins were plainly visible to the gaze of the passer-by.

The foreigners have so far widened and improved some of the many winding paths—which lead in every direction among the graves, and stretch far out into the country—that there is ample room for equestrians. A few European horses are kept, but we observed that the little Tartar pony of the North was also used. This animal reminded us of the Canadian pony, although he looked a trifle smaller, while his mane was much heavier.

Many of my countrywomen would doubtless be appalled at the idea of having no promenade but that bordered by graves and tombs. I have already intimated, in speaking of this subject in connection with our life at Whampoa, that they do not tend to make the aspect of nature cheerful; and if we found this the case before having seen the unbroken miles of beautiful hills and the steep mountain-sides, which at Fuh-chau are covered with these reminders of our mortality, this change in our location did not render us the less inclined to solemnity. It is not difficult, however, to become cheerfully habituated even to this funereal landscape; and the country about Fuh-chau is so incomparably beautiful that in spite of the graveyard use to which most of the uncultivated ground is put, one cannot but admire and enjoy the scenes around him. In fact, the suburbs and surroundings of this city were more attractive in situation and scenery than any other place we visited in China. The hill-sides offer finer locations for residences; where, excepting in the hottest weather, Europeans can be as comfortable as at home. For although it is very warm from May until the first of October, the mountain-breezes continue to be bracing until late in the spring; and returning early in the autumn, the climate is not as exhausting as at the ports further south. In China, however, the humidity of the atmosphere is such that the same degrees of heat and cold are more seriously felt than in the United States.

Kite-flying is a gentlemanly pastime among the Fuh-chauans; and groups of men are frequently seen moving about among the graves, upon the hills, engaged in this amusement. Sometimes the kite is made to represent a flock of birds; and on one occasion we observed that they were so natural and bird-like in form and motion, that, had we not been assured to the contrary, we should have taken them for what they only appeared to be. The Chinese, in fact, are said to succeed so admirably in making and flying these bird-kites that an Englishman, on first arriving in the country, being out on a hunting excursion, fired into a flock of them before perceiving his mistake. We also saw a centipede-kite,—said to be a hundred feet in length,—which was flying, and in its motions was not unlike the frightfully disagreeable reptile it represented.

I was more and more impressed at every place we visited in China with the skill exhibited by the people in their own peculiar works of art, but found none more worthy of notice than that of the Fuh-chauans, whose exquisite carvings in marble are not only excellent representations of themselves, but also of the local scenes in and about the city; many of which are beautifully done. The people of a district about sixty miles from Fuh-chau are famous for the manufacture of flowers, which are made of silver. We shall not attempt a description of these beautiful creations of artistic taste and skill, which represent delicate foliage and flowers, and are formed into wreaths for the head, as well as made into little ornamental clusters or bouquets. We saw one wreath of exquisite workmanship, which was admirably adapted to adorn the head of a bride. The people of this same district manufacture also a very curious but handsome fire-screen, woven of paper, on which are represented not only flowers, birds, and animals, but also figures of men and women, together with various scenes common to the country. The most remarkable thing about them is that the figures are made in the weaving. The threads of paper are colored before the material is woven, and the scenes and figures are given in the most brilliant hues.

For the benefit of the foreign community the services of the English Church are held every Sunday in the English Chapel,—which is a small Gothic edifice, occupying a fine situation in the neighborhood of the English consulate, and upon an eminence which is quite the centre of the foreign community. The premises of the American Methodist Episcopal Mission are also in the same neighborhood with the foreign residences; and a small church—which is erected within the wall enclosing them—is arranged into two chapels, one being appropriated to services for the benefit of Europeans, and the other for such natives as may choose to attend upon the ministrations of the missionaries. The American Board have a mission station within the walls of the city, which is occupied by two mission families. They have also another station in the suburbs, where, at the time of our visit, two other families were living. The ladies at these stations were doing all they could for the religious and domestic education and other improvement of the native women and their daughters.

At the station within the walls, Mrs. Hartwell was teaching a number of native women, but was in great need of a convenient room apart from her own house, where at stated hours she could receive and instruct them. On account of the state of the finances at home, the mission was unwilling to appeal to the Society for aid to build a house for this purpose, but an effort which was being made, when we left Fuh-chau, to raise the necessary funds among the foreigners, was successful; and from letters subsequently received from there, we have been informed that the building is completed and occupied, much to the satisfaction of the mission. The school under the care of the wife of the Rev. Mr. Baldwin,—one of the missionaries of the station in the suburbs,—and also that of the Misses Woolston,—of the Methodist Mission,—were spoken of as flourishing, and as quietly assisting to do the same good work among the Chinese girls of Fuh-chau which is being accomplished by the same kind of schools at Canton and Swatow.