CHAPTER VI.
A small English steamer, called the Feema, or Flying Horse, was plying between Hong Kong and Macao, and wishing to visit some friends living at the latter place, instead of directly going to our own home at Whampoa, we took passage on the 2d of February and proceeded thither.
Besides our party of three, there were only five or six foreigners on board, most of whom were English. Among them we observed an English lady, who, notwithstanding the severity of the weather, was travelling with her feet encased in delicate slippers. We probably should not have remarked this fact had we not read some severe criticisms, from the pens of English travellers in the United States, in regard to our own countrywomen imprudently risking their health in the same manner. We do not, however, remember of having met, in our travels at home, a gentlewoman whose feet were so slightly protected for the season. We mention this incident to show that, after all, there is not a very wide difference in the careful or careless habits of our Anglo-Saxon cousins when compared with our own. In our vain boasting, and some other peculiarities, we are greatly alike, which only the more clearly proves our legitimacy to the same stock.
The distance to Macao was only forty miles, yet when off Lintin Bay—which is a part of the delta at the mouth of what is called the Canton River—there was so heavy a sea running that our little cabin reeled, and old Neptune again shook his trident at us. An hour or two, however, brought us to the Macao Roads, and passing in view of the Donna Maria, and Guia forts, which occupy the tops of two rocky hills, we steamed into the inner harbor.
Before we could anchor, our vessel was surrounded by little passenger-boats, managed for the most part by women, who vociferated at the top of their voices; each one, in order to secure passengers, being solely intent upon getting the prow of her boat nearest to the companion-ladder. At the time of the confusion at Babel the Chinese race must have had a large representation there; for the clatter of tongues that greeted us at some of the ports, on our voyage from New York, was as the murmur of a peaceful rill when compared to the great cataract of shrill voices that here well-nigh deafened us. It was impossible to hear the deeper tones of the men in the general uproar; while it was absolutely frightful to see those of the passengers who had no ladies to care for, leaping, nearly mad with the wild tumult, into the first tanka-boat[12] they could reach. Under these circumstances, passing without accident through the peril of getting into one of these rocking little boats,—which was skilfully guided and propelled by three stout tanka-women,—and being safely landed at the Custom-house jetty, was a matter of sincere felicitation.
The warm welcome one receives on reaching old friends in a foreign land goes far towards compensating for the désagrémens of travel; and notwithstanding our new surroundings may be strangely unfamiliar, the presence of beloved faces from the old home-circle creates a gratefully satisfied feeling of content.
The peninsula of Macao juts out from the southeastern end of Hiangshan,—a large island near the mouth of Lintin Bay,—and is connected with it by a narrow, sandy isthmus. “The town,” says ——, “occupies a position rather of beauty than strength; for the summits that surround its peninsula side also command it, and the waters of its inner and outer harbor are navigable for vessels of considerable burden.” It is an old Portuguese colony,—the peninsula occupied by the city being three miles in length by one in breadth. One side of it is curved into a bay, whose beauty is often compared to the bay of Naples. Along the shore-line of this curve lies the Praya Grande,—a grand promenade. The opposite side of the peninsula is high and rocky, with a little curve towards the sea; and the ridge of this eminence, as well as its sloping sides, is covered with houses, churches, and now, nearly deserted convents.
The Portuguese obtained permission to settle here about the year 1537,—not, however, as an independent community, but in association with the native population, and during their good behavior or the Emperor’s pleasure. For this privilege they promised, at first, to pay a large sum of money, but their exclusive policy and efforts to secure all the Chinese trade to themselves and the Spaniards, ruined them in their speculations, so that the Emperor, in 1843, agreed to receive from them the small ground-rent of one hundred and fifty pounds sterling per annum. In 1847, according to Doctor Williams, the population of the peninsula was not far from 30,000, of whom 5000 were Portuguese.
Macao was formerly the private residence of the foreigners in Southern China, but since the establishment of an English colony at Hong Kong, it has been nearly deserted, except during the summer months, and even then but few families frequent it for the whole of the warm season. There are, however, foreign consuls there; the United States, at the time of our visit, being represented by Gideon Nye, Jr., Esq.,—an American gentleman whose earnest loyalty, elegant hospitality, and kindness, will be pleasantly and gratefully remembered by all his countrymen who visited Macao during his occupation of the consulate.
Some of the largest and most comfortable dwellings occupied by foreign residents at Macao were erected one hundred and fifty years ago, when the colony was the richest mart in Eastern Asia. They are built on the plan common to most other Eastern cities, having walls two or three feet in thickness, which are sufficiently strong to withstand the devastating force of the terrible typhoons that annually visit the country.
The mansion of the Governor of the colony is situated upon the beautiful Praya Grande, and the extensive buildings formerly occupied by the East India Company also front on that lovely promenade. One of the oldest houses in Macao was the home of Dr. Williams, where we were guests. It is two hundred years old, and its spacious apartments—like those of other residences occupied by foreigners—are admirably arranged, and adapted to the necessities of so warm a climate.
There are several forts, only one of which we visited. This is called the Guia, or Del Monte, and was built in 1638,—one hundred years after Macao was first settled. It stands on a rocky eminence of the same name. In building it the rocky summit was merely cut down so as to form a level surface. Stone battlements, having very thick walls, were then constructed, and upon these guns are mounted. The Guia fort is the highest elevation in the settlement, and as it commands an extensive view of the sea and roads, is used as a signal-station.
In clambering up the hill to the Guia fort we encountered many Chinese graves. These, as we have already mentioned, are never enclosed; but the cattle pasture among them, and footpaths, made by the inhabitants, lead between and around them. Before reaching the hill we passed through a portion of the Government Park,[13] in which a memorialstone is erected to mark the spot where, two centuries ago, a Dutch admiral was killed while advancing from his boats to attack the colony.
The temple of Makauk—the first Buddhist monastery which we visited in China—is a very picturesque joss-house, built among the cliffs and granite boulders near the sea-shore. It is sacred to the goddess Kwanyin, i. e. the Hearer of Cries; who is also called the Goddess of Mercy, Holy Mother, and Queen of Heaven,—which Dr. Williams says is only another form of “Our Lady.” Kwanyin, although more particularly the goddess of the boat-people, fishermen, and sailors, is also a favorite divinity of the Chinese generally. This temple is very old, and is said to have been built by Chinese sailors, who were saved, with their junks, through the perils of a dreadful typhoon, in which a great number of seamen were lost. The main entrance is guarded by two huge, but grotesque lions sculptured in stone, and the tall red flag-staff, in front of the temple, designates its locality to the passer-by.
In one of the volumes of “Allum’s Views in the East,” there is a very correct picture of this temple as seen from the harbor,—so faithful a copy, indeed, that a careful observer, having once seen the temple from that point, would readily recognize the original. A descriptive writer of scenes in the East has given so minute and excellent an account of this pile, that we cannot do better than to quote his words entire:—
“At the foot of the great stairway are three large monumental slabs closely inscribed with names, titles, and laudatory records. An enclosure, resembling the holy ground that surrounds the ancient sanctuaries of Europe, is formed by means of walls connecting the rude rocks that occur in the circuit, and which are always religiously retained by Chinese artists to decorate. A balustrade, resting on this dwarf wall, is divided by compartments enriched with tracery, and decorated with various representations of instruments of music, implements of art, and weapons of war. A child, seated on a quadruped of a nondescript species, is attended by venerable men, and followed by two females carrying umbrellas; while Satan, adorned with monstrous horns, is fleeing from the party in the utmost dismay.[14]
“Another division is filled with a group representing the dedication of the temple, and the votive act in which it had its foundation. The design of the temple includes five separate structures,—the centre more lofty, the lateral gradually descending from it, and different also in character and decorations.
“A rich cornice supports a highly ornamental roof, entirely of porcelain, on which rests a boat or junk, sculptured with representations of various natural scenes and customs. Beneath the cornice are two oblong panels, enclosed in frames of bright and colored stone,—the higher containing bas-reliefs of grotesque figures and extraordinary combinations, the lower filled with apothegms from the writings of the great founders of the sect of idolaters who come here to worship. Beneath this latter tablet opens a large circular window, the frame of which appears to have been cut, with incalculable labor, from a single block of stone. Pilasters, wholly covered with inscriptions, separate the central from the lower divisions; and these are also adorned with porcelain roofs, massive cornices, and tablets, on which admonitions and wise maxims are emblazoned.
“Each division is pierced by a square window of large dimensions, the carvings on which, although an extraordinary evidence of untiring labor, and unexampled perseverance, are neither beautiful nor intelligible.”
It was here that I first met with the banian-tree, which is always found growing in the grounds of Buddhist temples. These trees had attained a great age, and were so near the buildings that their great gnarled roots grew over and under the rocks, while their branches overshadowed much of the pile.
After examining the establishment we passed into one of the rooms of the cloister, where we were served with some New-Year’s confectionary by an old priest who had been an inmate of the temple fifty years.
The temple of Mongha—another Buddhist monastery—is situated about a mile from Makauk, in the village of Wanghai, one of the suburbs of Macao. It is famous from the circumstance that here, in 1844, the treaty made by the United States plenipotentiary, the Hon. Caleb Cushing, with the Imperial commissioner, Kéying, was ratified. Dr. Williams, who visited this temple with us, and who was present at the signing of that treaty, told us that the idols were removed from the chief apartment in order to make room for the occasion.
The presence-chamber of this establishment, which contains large brazen images of the Past, Present, and Future Buddha, is a spacious apartment, decorated with extraordinary tracery and carvings. We observed upon one side of the wall a remarkable specimen of the latter, parts of which were painted in colors, and were told that it represented the Buddhists’ idea of the cosmogony of the universe. This confused and grotesque delineation of Oriental wisdom reminded us of Goldsmith’s remark, that “the origin of the world has puzzled the philosophers of all ages.” Whether this remark could with propriety be applied to the world or not, we were pretty certain that it could be applied to the picture, for a more incongruous and unmeaning design we never remember of having seen. The temple had been renewed at great expense, the year previous to our visit, and the grotesque decorations of the exterior, together with the horrid-looking dragons that ornamented the roof, were as bright and fresh as new paint and gilding could make them. Beyond the chief presence-chamber there is a shrine containing an image of the god Esculapius, and also one of the goddess of mercy,—Kwanyin,—which is guarded on each side by grotesque images. Tanka-boat women, in neat holiday attire, making New-Year’s offerings and proffering requests, were prostrating themselves at her shrine. These poor deluded women were kneeling on mats, and throwing little bamboo sticks on the floor before them, in order to ascertain whether the goddess would hear or refuse their petitions. At short intervals,—while they were alternately casting the bits of bamboo, and bowing until their foreheads touched the floor, or, rising, stood burning incense or joss-sticks before the image,—a large bell, placed a little at the right of the idol, was occasionally struck by a young priest, so as to attract the attention of the deity.
These adorations, made to a senseless image, together with the ringing of the bell, called to mind a passage in the First Book of Kings, (xviii. 27,) and we could not but wonder how any person coming from a land blessed with the teachings of the elevating religion of Jesus, could witness such scenes of gross superstition and idolatry, without rejoicing that the Christian missionary had been sent among these people to teach them the truths of the Bible, and a knowledge of the true God. The seemingly paradoxical expression, that “the credulity of unbelief is greater than that of belief,” appeared here to have
“A local habitation and a name;”
and although I remained in China long enough to become, in some degree, accustomed to witnessing idol worship, still I never got rid of the thoughts and impressions produced by the acts of heathen idolatry which here came within my observation.
Three or four years ago the foreign Protestant residents at Macao purchased a part of the large grounds belonging to the temple of Mongha, and laid them out as a cemetery. Magnificent banians, of more than two hundred years growth, ornament and shade the place, making it one of the most charming localities in the suburbs of Macao. The old Protestant burying-ground, located in the heart of the city, is also an interesting and lovely spot. It was purchased of the Portuguese by the old East India Company, and is enclosed within a high stone-wall, having an entrance-gate which opens upon the San Antonio green. The Protestant chapel stands within this enclosure, and the grounds are ornamented with a variety of trees and shrubs. One little spot, in this burial-place, was to us invested with a tenderly sad and mournful interest, for here the mortal part of one of our own home-circle, who had left us in the strength of his early manhood,
Here, as at the Protestant grounds at Hong Kong we observed that the majority of the interments were young men. It is natural for most persons to feel a peculiar solemnity on visiting a burial-place, but this emotion on entering a Christian cemetery in a distant heathen land is greatly intensified. Several of the officers of the old East India Company are buried in this enclosure; and the remains of Dr. Morrisson, the English missionary, who made the first translation of the Bible into the Chinese language, are also entombed here,—which circumstance must always render the spot a place of distinguished interest to the Christian. Other missionaries,—noble men and women,—who worked on cheerfully until the exhausting influence of the climate forced them,
“Weary with the march of life,”
to lie down and die, here “sleep the sleep that knows no waking,” until the morning of their bright and glorious resurrection.
Chinnery, the English artist, who during his lifetime became quite famous for his fine delineation of Oriental scenery, and his remarkably life-like sketches of the boat-people and other classes of Chinese, has also a conspicuous tomb within these walls. His pictures not only bear the impress of genius, but are particularly remarkable for their exquisite fidelity to nature, in which respect he is justly entitled to rank as the Teniers of the East.
Romanism is the established religion of the colony; yet, out of thirteen churches, all but three are sequestered. St. Paul’s, a grand old stone church, which was built in 1634, was destroyed by fire in 1835. The façade, and high stone steps of this edifice are still standing; and judging from the ruin, which is a conspicuous object,—meeting the eye from every point of view,—it must have been an imposing structure.
One of the chief points of interest in the Casa Gardens—which we visited—is the grotto where Camoëns, the Portuguese poet, is said to have written most of the Lusiad. Those familiar with that poem are aware that its author was banished to Macao by his Government, and spent five years of his life in that colony. The gardens are now owned by a Portuguese family, who reside in the imposing old mansion within the walls, and from whom visitors must procure permission to enter the enclosure.
The place belonged formerly to the East India Company, and the house was then occupied by the chief officer of that establishment. A grand flight of stone steps leads to the main entrance of the dwelling, and at the time of our visit pots of rare plants, placed on stands, were arranged in a semicircle at their base; while oleanders—whose great growth and tropical luxuriance gave them more the appearance of trees than shrubs—were growing, and in full bloom on each side of the steps. These beautiful grounds are enclosed within a high stone wall, and were originally laid out on a scale of magnificence in keeping with the luxurious style and princely state for which the officers of the old East India Company, in their palmy days, were celebrated. Camoën’s Grotto—which is situated in a charming spot—contains a bronze bust of the poet, standing on a pedestal, on which are also traced, in bronze letters, some stanzas from the “Lusiad.” There is also set in the rock a marble panel, having engraved upon it a poem in praise of Camoëns. The poetic inscription is by a Frenchman, who calls himself the “poete exile.” The bust is a rude piece of art, but we were told that one, finely sculptured in marble, was about to be sent from Portugal to replace it. The Portuguese nation have long since awakened to a just sense of Camoën’s merits, but they can never blot out the severe expressions that occur in some passages of his great poem, in which he laments the neglect and injustice which he suffered from his country. Among these the following is full of the most bitter irony.
Trees overshadow this grotto, and a flight of stone steps lead to the top, where a large flat surface extends over and beyond it. When Macao was the principal residence of the families of foreign merchants, picnics were held in these gardens, and the children performed their little dances upon this rocky floor.
In most parts of the grounds tropical trees and shrubs are so numerous as to form an almost impenetrable shade; while the tough and gnarled roots of hoary banians have crept up and down some parts of the old walls which enclose the gardens, until they have formed a sort of network which acts as a support for the masonry. In other places the banian, of great age and size, grows from the fissures of high, jagged rocks, and the serpent-like roots bind the rudely broken masses and granite boulders firmly together. In contrast with these are the beautifully graceful clusters of bamboo, some varieties of the palm, and trees of a delicate acacia foliage.
We were indebted to the kindness of our Consul, Mr. Nye, for a charming boat excursion to Tui-mien-shan, or Lapa Island, which lies west of Macao. A large surface of ground, at the head of a little valley on this island, is covered with broken rocks, and boulders of every shape and size. Among those there is one of very large dimensions, which, on being struck with an iron instrument gives out a loud, clear, and ringing sound, like that produced by striking sonorous metal. From this circumstance it has received the name of the “Ringing Rock,” and persons visiting it always carry iron hammers with them, in order to amuse themselves with the echo which it creates in the valley.
The pleasant rambles on this island are much frequented by foreigners; so leaving the “Ringing Rock,” and ascending the hill, we were just bending our steps towards a large boulder, in order to rest under its inviting shade, when we were startled by coming suddenly upon what appeared to be a frightful snake. The seeming reptile, which was coiled around a shrub, proved, however, to be only the old skin that a snake, over eight feet in length, had recently left there. The power of the final effort made by his snakeship, in casting off the old habiliment, was manifest from the great number of involutions left in the skin near the tail. We were assured that the snake was not of a venomous species, but could not be induced to remain in that locality, and gladly returned to the more cultivated parts of the vale, where the water of an enchanting little rivulet was made to turn the rude machinery of a very primitive grist-mill. The hoppers of the mill were turned by an overshot-wheel, on which were bamboo cogs,—water conducted through bamboo canes being used in order to prevent friction. We did not, however, incline to linger by the way, and were glad when we had regained the landing, and were once more on board of Mr. Nye’s spacious boat, the Picnic, on our return to town.
The Chinese manufacture an excellent lime from fossil oyster-shells, and the people following that business at Macao live in a place called the “Lime-kiln Village.” Visiting that locality late in the afternoon, we witnessed a curious exhibition of the economy and management of the people. The weather was unusually cold, and at one place a circular burning kiln filled with shells was surrounded by a crowd of women and children. The diameter of the kiln was about ten feet, and the top surface, which was one mass of fire, was covered with the little stewpans, and tea-water vessels of the women, who were busy cooking their evening meal, while the children were pressing near, in order to warm their thinly clad and shivering little bodies. The savory fumes, with which the place was redolent, were suggestive of ragouts made of certain little animals which are said to be the favorite food of the lower class of Chinese.