CHAPTER XI
A GLIMPSE OF CANTON

CANTON is, to foreigners, probably the best‐known and most frequently visited city of China. Its proximity to, and ready accessibility from Hong Kong, whence it is easily reached by a line of large river steamers, renders it a favourite place with travellers to the East to spend a portion of the time the mailboats usually stop in the English harbour. A small colony of Europeans, consuls and merchants of several nationalities, reside in its foreign settlement. Its considerable trade and its occupation by the Allies after the war of 1856‐7 directed much attention to it. Owing to its easy access, no other city in the Chinese Empire has been so frequently described by European writers. Rudyard Kipling, in his fascinating “From Sea to Sea,” paints a marvellous word‐picture of the life in its crowded streets. But it is so bound up with the interests of Hong Kong, its constant menace to our colony, and the suspected designs of French aggression, that still something new may be said about it. Despite its constant trade intercourse with Europeans, Canton remains anti‐foreign. Its inhabitants have not forgotten or forgiven its capture and occupation by the English and French in the past. After the Boxer movement in the North in 1900, many fears were entertained in Hong Kong lest a still more formidable outbreak against foreigners in the South might be inaugurated by the turbulent population of the restless city. The Europeans in Canton sent their families in haste to Hong Kong and Macao; wealthy Chinamen transferred their money to the banks in the former place; gunboats were hurried up; and the garrison of our island colony stood ready. The history of Canton’s intercourse with foreigners dates as far back as the eighth century. Two hundred years later it was visited by Arab traders, who were instrumental in introducing Mohammedanism, which still remains alive in the city. In 1517 Emmanuel, King of Portugal, sent an ambassador with a fleet of eight ships to Pekin; and the Chinese Emperor sanctioned the opening of trade relations with Canton. The English were much later in the field. In 1596, during the reign of Elizabeth, our first attempt to establish intercourse with China ended disastrously, as the two ships despatched were lost on the outward voyage. The first English vessel to reach Canton arrived there in 1634. In the light of the present state of affairs in the East, it is curious to note that an English ship which visited China in 1673 was subsequently refused admittance to Japan. In 1615 the city was captured by the Tartars.

About half a century later the famous East India Company established itself under the walls of Canton, and from there controlled the foreign trade for nearly one hundred and fifty years. After much vexatious interference by the native authorities, the influence of the Company was abolished early in the nineteenth century. The conduct of the Chinese Government as regards our commerce led to our declaring war in 1839. In 1841 a force under Sir Hugh (afterwards Lord) Gough surrounded Canton and prepared to capture it. But negotiations were opened by the Chinese, which ended in their being allowed to ransom the city by the payment of the large sum of six million dollars. The war was transferred farther north and ended with the Nanking Treaty of August, 1842, which threw open to foreign trade the ports of Shanghai, Ning‐po, Foochow, and Amoy. It was further stipulated that foreigners were to be permitted to enter the city of Canton. This provision, however, the Chinese refused to carry out. More vexatious quarrels and an insult to the British flag by the seizure of a Chinaman on the Arrow, a small vessel sailing under our colours, led to a fresh war in 1856. The outbreak of hostilities was followed by the pillaging and destruction of the “factories” of the foreign merchants in Canton by an infuriated mob in the December of that year. In 1857 the city was taken by storm by a force under Sir Charles Straubenzee. For four years afterwards it was occupied by an English and French garrison. The affairs of the city were administered by three allied commissioners—two English and one French officer—under the British General. They held their court in the Tartar General’s Yamen, part of which is still used by the English Consul for official receptions. Since the allied garrison was withdrawn Canton has been freely open to foreigners.

On the conclusion of peace it was necessary to find a settlement for the European merchants whose factories had been destroyed. It was determined to fill in and appropriate an extensive mud‐flat lying near the north bank of the river and south‐west of the city. This site having been leased, was converted into an artificial island by building a massive embankment of granite and constructing a canal, 100 feet wide, between the northern face and the adjacent Chinese suburb. The ground thus reclaimed measures about 950 yards in length and 320 yards broad in its widest part. It is in shape an irregular oval, and is called Shameen, or, more proper, Sha‐mien, i.e. sand‐flats. The island is divided into the English and the French Concessions. On it the consulates and the residences of the foreign merchants are built. The canal is crossed by two bridges, called respectively the English and the French, which can be closed by gates. They are guarded by the Settlement police. The cost of making the island amounted to 325,000 dollars (Mex.); of which the English Government paid four‐fifths and the French one‐fifth. At first foreigners hesitated to occupy it; but after the British Consulate was erected in 1865, our merchants began to build upon it with more confidence.

The journey from Hong Kong to Canton is very comfortably performed on the commodious shallow‐draught steamers that ply between the two cities. I left the island one afternoon with a party of friends. The scenery along the rugged coast and among the hilly islands to the flat delta at the mouth of the estuary with its countless creeks, still haunted by pirates, is charming. As we steamed up the river we could see, moving apparently among the fields, the huge sails of junks which in reality were sailing on the canals that intersect the country. After dinner I sat on deck with a very charming companion and watched the shadowy banks gliding past in the moonlight. Turning in for the night in a comfortable cabin, I slept until eight o’clock next morning, and awoke to find the steamer alongside the river bank at Canton.

The scene from the deck was animated and picturesque. On one side lay the crowded houses and grim old walls of the city. The wharves were thronged with bustling crowds. On the other, beyond the island suburb of Honam, the country stretched away in cultivation to low hills in the distance. The river was thronged with countless covered boats; for the floating population of Canton amounts to about a quarter of a million souls, and the crowded sampans lying in a dense mass on the water form a separate town from the city on the land. It is almost self‐containing and its inhabitants ply every imaginable trade. Peddlers of food, vegetables, fruit, pots, pans, and wares of all kinds paddled their boats along and shouted their stock‐in‐trade. Here and there a sampan was being extricated with difficulty from the closely packed mass, its crew earning voluble curses from their neighbours as they disentangled their craft and shot out into the stream.

I gazed over the steamer’s side at the crowded wharf. Chinese or half‐caste Portuguese Customs officers rapidly scanned the baggage of the pig‐tailed passengers as they landed, now and then stopping one and making him open the bundles he carried. Opium‐smuggling is the chief thing they guard against, for Hong Kong is a free port.

The city of Canton lies on the north bank of the Pearl River, about seventy or eighty miles from the sea. It is surrounded by an irregular masonry wall, twenty‐five feet high, twenty feet thick, and six or seven miles in circumference. This fortification is by no means as strong as the famous Wall of the Tartar city in Pekin and could be easily breached by the fire of heavy guns. Good artillery positions are to be found all round. A few miles north of the city lie hills rising 1,200 feet above the river. As the southern wall is only a few hundred yards from the bank, it could be destroyed and the city bombarded without difficulty by gunboats, some of which—English, French, and German—are nearly always lying off Shameen. The Chinese, however, are reported to be quietly erecting modern, well‐armed forts around the city; but were a powerful flotilla once anchored opposite it, it would be doomed.

Canton is divided into the old and the new city. The latter, the southern enclosure, was added in 1568, extending the ramparts almost to the river bank. The wall of the older portion still divides the two as in Pekin. On the north this wall rises to include a hill. On the other three sides Canton is surrounded by a ditch, which is filled by the rising tide. There are twelve outer gates and four in the partition wall. Two water‐gates admit boats along a canal which pierces the new city east and west. The gates are closed at night; and in the daytime soldiers are stationed near them to preserve order. As the policing of the city is very bad, the inhabitants of streets and wards frequently join in maintaining guards for the protection of their respective quarters.

The old city, which is very much the larger of the two, contains most of the important buildings. In it are the yamens of the Viceroy, the Major‐General, the Treasurer, the Chancellor, the Tartar General and Major‐General, and of the British Consul, as well as the prisons, the Examination Hall, the pagodas, and the numerous temples, of which there are over 120 in or about Canton. The streets number over 600 in both cities.

In the new town facing the river is the French Missions Roman Catholic Cathedral, a beautiful building of the perpendicular Gothic style of architecture with lofty spires. It is embellished with magnificent stained‐glass windows and polished teak‐wood carvings. It is built on the site of the old residence of the Governor‐General, destroyed during the bombardment by the Allies.

On the south, west, and east sides of the city and across the river on Honam Island, suburbs have sprung up, and including them it has a circumference of nearly ten miles. The houses stretch for four miles along the river; and the banks of boats extend for four or five miles. Out in the stream may often be seen huge junks 600 to 1,000 tons burden, which trade with the North and the Straits Settlements.

In 1874 the population of Canton was 1,500,000, including the floating town of 230,000, and the inhabitants of Honam 100,000. The number has probably largely increased.

Going ashore we installed ourselves in long‐poled open chairs, borne by energetic coolies. As they went along rapidly at a shambling half‐trot, they shouted loudly to the lounging crowds to clear the way. Into the network of narrow streets in the city we plunged. The houses are different to those in Pekin. They are generally of more than one story, well built of brick, with thick walls and verandahs along the fronts of the upper floors. The shops have little frontage, but extend far back. The streets, paved with stone or brick, are darkened by overhead reed matting, supported by wooden frames, which stretch across them to shade them from the sun. So narrow are even the principal thoroughfares that two chairs can hardly pass each other. With much shouting and sing‐song abuse the coolies carrying one are forced to back into the nearest shop and let the other go by. The vistas along these narrow, shaded streets, with their long, hanging, gilt‐lettered sign‐boards—red, white, or black—are full of quaint charm. The busy crowds of Chinese foot passengers hurry silently along, their felt‐soled shoes making no sound on the pavement. Contrary to what I had always heard of them, the Canton populace struck me as not being so insolent or hostile to Europeans as they are reputed. As our chairs moved along, the bearers thrusting the crowds aside with scant ceremony, very little notice was taken of us. A few remarks were made by the bystanders, which one of our party, who spoke Cantonese, told me were anything but complimentary. But all that day throughout the city I found the demeanour of the people much less offensive than a Chinaman in the lower quarters of London would.

The shops were filled with articles of European manufacture. Clocks, cloth, oleographs, lamps, kerosene oil tins, even sewing‐machines were for sale. Eating‐houses, tea shops, stalls covered with the usual weird forms of food, raw or cooked, abounded. The Chinaman has a catholic taste. Horseflesh, dogs, cats, hawks, owls, sharks’ fins, and birds’ nests are freely sold in Canton for human consumption. Carpenters were busy making the substantial furniture to be found in almost every Chinese house. Blacksmiths and coppersmiths added the noises of their trades to the din that resounded through the narrow streets. Peddlers with their wares spread about them on the ground helped to choke the congested thoroughfares. Beggars shouted loudly for alms and drew the attention of the passers‐by to their disgusting sores and deformities.

Canton is famous for its ivory carvers and the artists in the beautiful feather work, the making of which seems to be confined to this city. As I wished to purchase some specimens of this unique art, our party stopped at an establishment famed for its production. The shop was lofty but dark. The owner came forward to receive us, and spread on the counter a large selection of ornaments for our inspection. Trinkets of all kinds, lace‐pins, pendants, brooches were exhibited, all evidently made for European purchasers. The designs were very pretty. Large butterflies shone with the reflected lights and golden lustre of the beautiful green and blue plumage of the kingfisher. Tiny fishes delicately fashioned, birds of paradise, flowers were all reproduced in flimsy gold or silver work. Learning that I was anxious to see the process of the manufacture, the proprietor led me over to watch one of the workmen who sat around busily employed. On a metal ground‐work with raised edges and lines the feathers are fastened to reproduce the colours of the designs. With nimble fingers and delicate pincers the tiny strips of plumage are laid on and cemented. Keen sight is required for the work; and the proprietor told me that the eyes of the workmen engaged in it soon fail. It takes five years for an apprentice to thoroughly learn the art; and after he has laboured at it for two years more his vision becomes so obscured that he has to give it up and seek some other occupation. It is little wonder; for the shops in these narrow, shaded streets are always dark, and the artificial light generally used is furnished only by the cheapest European lamps. The prices of the various articles are very moderate, when one considers the delicacy and beauty of the work. Butterflies an inch across can be purchased for two or three dollars.

Our next visit was paid to the workers in ivory. Here, in a similarly dark shop, men were employed in carving most exquisitely delicate flowers, scenes, and figures. Brushes, mirror‐frames, fans, glove‐stretchers, penholders, card‐cases, and boxes of all sizes were being fashioned and adorned. I was particularly interested in the making of those curious Chinese puzzle‐balls, which contain one within another a dozen or more spheres, all down to the innermost one covered with beautiful carvings which can be seen through the round holes pierced in the sides. The owner of the shop showed me an apprentice learning how to make them and practising on an old billiard ball. Holes are drilled down to the depth which will be the circumference of the second outermost ball. A graving tool, hooked like a hoe, is introduced into them and worked round until there is a complete solid sphere detached inside. It is then carved in designs, every part being reached by turning the ball round until each portion of the surface has come opposite one of the holes through which the carving instrument can reach it. Then a similar process is gone through at a greater depth from the outside, which gives the third outermost sphere; and so on until the innermost ball is reached, which is carved and left solid. There are sometimes as many as twenty‐four of these graduated spheres. To one who has never seen how they are made it seems impossible to understand how these balls within balls are carved. Sections of elephants’ tusks lay about in the shop to prove to the customers that only real ivory is employed; but bone is often used in the making of cheaper articles.

In this trade, too, good sight is necessary; and the proprietor of this establishment told me that the eyes of his workmen soon give out. Here, again, the bad light was responsible. In Kioto, in Japan, I have watched men engaged in damascene or inlay work in dingy attics lighted only by small, smoky oil lamps, and was not surprised to learn that their sight did not last long.

We next inspected some embroidery shops, where specimens of wonderful work, both new and old, were to be seen. The latter come chiefly from the numerous pawnshops, the tall towers of which rise everywhere throughout the city; for they receive annually large quantities of old garments, sold by members of ancient but impoverished families who are forced to part with the wardrobes that have come down to them through many generations. Magnificent mandarins’ state costumes may be obtained for from forty to eighty or a hundred dollars. Some of the embroidery is undoubtedly antique and valuable; but a good deal of it sold as old consists of new and inferior substitutions and even of European‐manufactured imitations of the real article. This the white man in his innocence buys and goes on his way rejoicing, until some connoisseur among his female friends points out his error and leaves him abashed at his own ignorance.

Porcelain, jade, blackwood furniture, silk, bronze, and curio shops abound in the city. The contrast between the energetic, business‐like tradesmen of Canton, always ready to cater for the European market, and the phlegmatic shopkeepers of Pekin is very marked.