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.

We now visited the Flowery Forest Monastery or Temple of the Five Hundred Genii, which is said to have been founded in A.D. 500, and which was rebuilt some forty years ago. It stands outside the western wall of the city. It comprises many buildings and courts; but the most interesting portion is the hall, which contains the images of the five hundred disciples of Buddha. The statues are life‐size. Their countenances are supposed to represent the supreme content of Nirvana; but their weird and grotesque expressions and the air of jollity and devil‐may‐careness on some of them is unintentionally ludicrous. Among the images is one said to represent Marco Polo, one of the earliest pioneers of discovery in the East. No one knows why the celebrated Italian traveller is included among the immortals.

A more interesting sight was the prison in the old city. On a stone outside the open gate sat a criminal weighted down with the _cangue_, a heavy board fastened round the neck. It prevents the luckless wearer from using his hands to feed himself or brush away the tormenting swarms of flies which settle on his face. He cannot reach his mouth, and must starve unless a relative or some charitable person can be found to give him food. As the _cangue_ is never removed night or day he cannot lie down, but is forced to sit on the ground and prop himself against a wall and snatch what sleep he can in that uncomfortable and constrained position. I must say that this particular gentleman seemed very indifferent to his wooden collar. He was chatting pleasantly with some passers‐by in the street and turned his head to survey us with mild curiosity. The _cangue_, by the way, is only a minor penalty used for thieves, petty larcenists, and such small fry. For the punishment of graver crimes much more elaborate tortures have been reserved. As we passed into the prison we saw a few offenders chained to iron bars in the outer court. A Chinese warder unlocked a gate leading into a small yard crowded with prisoners, who rushed towards us and insolently demanded alms; for the Government waste no money in feeding their criminals who are obliged to rely on the kindness of the charitable. One particularly cheeky youth—a pickpocket, I was told—coolly demanded the cigar I was smoking. When I gave it to him he put it in his mouth and strutted up and down the yard to the amusement of his companions in misfortune. His gratitude was not overpowering, for he uttered some remarks, which my Cantonese‐speaking friend told me were particularly insulting. As the prisoners became very troublesome in their noisy demands, the warder pushed them back into the yard and shut the gate, having to rap some of them over the knuckles with his keys before he could do so. There were no especial horrors to be seen. The prisoners seemed cheerful enough; and none of the awful misery I had always associated with Chinese jails was apparent.

But when the Celestial authorities wish to punish an offender severely they have a varied and ingenious collection of tortures on hand. The _ling‐chi_, or death of a thousand cuts, is hardly to be surpassed for fiendish cruelty. The unfortunate criminal is turned over to the executioner, who stabs him everywhere with a sharp sword, carefully avoiding a vital spot. Then he cuts off fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, and legs in succession, and finally severs the head, if the unhappy wretch has not already expired. If the doomed man is possessed of money he can bribe the executioner to kill him at the first blow; and the subsequent mutilations are performed only on a lifeless corpse. Another ingenious device is to place the criminal naked in a net and trice it up tightly around him, until his flesh bulges out through the meshes. Then, wherever it protrudes the executioner slices it off with a sharp knife. The unhappy wretch is taken back to prison, released from the net and thrown into a cell. No attempt is made to staunch the blood or salve the wounds unless death is feared. This must be averted; for a week or so later he has to be brought out again and the process repeated. Along the river bank near Canton criminals were exposed in cages, through the top of which their heads protruded in such a fashion that the weight of the body was supported only by the chin and neck. The feet did not touch the bottom of the cage, but a sharp spike was placed to rest them on when the strain on the neck became unendurable. Here the poor wretches were left to expire of exhaustion or die of starvation. After such tortures beheading seems a merciful punishment.

When I considered the Chinaman’s innate love of cruelty, I could understand why the next spot we visited was a very popular place of worship and a favourite resort for all the loafers of the city. It was the Temple of Horrors. Along each side of the principal court ran sheds, divided by partitions. In them behind wooden palings was a weird collection of groups of figures modelled to represent the various punishments of the Buddhist hell. The sheds were dark and it was difficult to see the interiors plainly. But quite enough was visible. In one compartment a couple of horrible devils were sawing a condemned wretch in two. In another, demons were thrusting a man into a huge boiler. Judging from the agonised expression on his face, the water must have been uncomfortably warm. In a third, the condemned soul or body was being ground in a press. Others were being roasted before huge fires, stuck all over with knives, having their eyes gouged out, being torn limb from limb. I fancy that the artist who designed these groups could have commanded a large salary as Inventor of Tortures from the Chinese authorities of his day.

Another place of interest is the Examination Hall, where every three years candidates from all parts of China assemble to compete for Government appointments. Young men and old, boys of eighteen and dotards of eighty, attend, eager to grasp the lowest rung of the official ladder which may lead them, though with soiled hands, to rank and wealth. The coveted buttons which mark the various grades of mandarin are here dangled before their eyes.

When one reflects that success in these competitions will lead to posts, not only as magistrates, but also as officers in the army, as officials of modern‐equipped arsenals, of departments of customs and telegraphs, or to positions which will bring them into contact with foreigners, one naturally thinks that the previous course of studies of the candidates will have fitted them for such appointments. Far from it. At the examinations a single text from Confucius or some other ancient author is set as a subject for a lengthy essay. For twenty‐four hours or longer the candidates are shut up in their cells to expand upon it. The examiners then read the result of their labours and recommend them on their proficiency in composition and acquaintance with the ancient classics of China. Even an English university curriculum is better fitted to equip a student for success in the world.

The Examination Hall consists of rows of closely‐packed lanes of small brick cells (about 12,000 in number) running at right angles off a long paved causeway, which is approached through an archway called the Dragon Gate. At the far end of this causeway are apartments for the examiners—twelve in number, two chiefs and ten juniors—who have been sent from Pekin. Quarters are also provided for the Viceroy and the Governor of the province, who are both obliged to be present during the examinations. The cells in which the candidates are immured are 6 feet high, 5½ feet long, and less than 4 feet broad, and open only on to the narrow lanes between the rows of sheds. From a high tower strict watch is kept to prevent any collusion between the competitors.

Tired of sight‐seeing, our party now returned to the river and crossed into Shameen by the small English Bridge spanning the canal between island and shore. A good lunch at the pretty little hotel prepared us for a stroll around the foreign settlement.

Shameen is now a pretty island with fine avenues of banyan trees, charming gardens, a row of excellent tennis‐courts, and handsome, well‐built houses, the residences of the foreign consuls and merchants. A tree‐shaded promenade lined the southern bank along the river. Moored to the shore were several English, American, French, and German gunboats. Their flags and the European‐looking houses made us almost forget that we were still within a stone’s‐throw of a large Chinese city. But the swarms of sampans, the curious country‐boats moved by stern‐wheels worked by men on a treadmill‐like contrivance, the banging of crackers and booming of gongs in a temple behind the island recalled us to the remembrance. We walked along by the river bank, crossed the canal by the French Bridge, and returned on board our steamer.

Canton, with its acres of crowded houses, its old walls, and ancient shrines, is a curious contrast to modern, up‐to‐date Hong Kong. Yet each in its way is equally alive and humming with busy trade, for the Chinese city exports and imports largely. It is the channel through which the commerce of Europe flows in and the products of China find their way out to the foreign markets. It manufactures largely glassware, pottery, metal work, paper, blackwood furniture, preserved ginger, medicine, etc. It is the granary and supply depôt of Hong Kong. The Cantonese merchants are keen business men and cater largely for the European customer. Nearly all the native silver work, embroidery, silks, and curios in the large shops of our colony come from Canton.

The focus of trade with Southern China, the proposed terminus of the railway to Kowloon, the food‐supplier of Hong Kong, its development and retention in Chinese hands is of vast importance to English commerce. The French are freely credited with designs upon it. Their determined efforts to firmly establish their own influence there and displace the British favour the suspicion. In their Concession on Shameen they have established, without the consent of China, their own post office, where they use their colonial stamps surcharged “Canton.” Their gunboats anchor where they like in the river, the commanders calmly ignoring the efforts of the Chinese officials to restrict them to the part allotted to foreign warships. On the occurrence of any outrages on their subjects or the converts of their missionaries, the French consuls act with energy and determination. When any such happen in the vicinity of Canton or up the West River, not content with complaints or remonstrances to the Chinese authorities, which usually have little effect, they insist on immediate redress. They generally accompany in person the official deputed to proceed to the scene of the outrage and investigate the affair. This energetic conduct is in marked contrast to the supineness of some of our consuls. A late British representative aroused much disgust among naval and military officers and our merchants by his want of resolution and his tender regard for Chinese susceptibilities. When one of our gunboats was fired on up the river, its commander immediately reported the matter to him. Our official feebly remonstrated with the authorities, and instructed the commander to return with his ship to the village near the scene of the outrage and fire off a Maxim into the river‐bank! This was to show the misguided peasantry of what the gunboat was capable, if action were necessary. As the Orientals respect only those who can use as well as show their power, the Chinese are not much impressed with us. The contrast between our forbearance and the determined conduct of the French is too marked. Their gunboats patrol the rivers and show the flag of their country everywhere. Their efforts seem directed towards spreading the region of their influence inland from the south to meet the Russian sphere in the north. This is to cut us off from our possessions in Burma and prevent any British railway being constructed from that country to the eastern coast of China, thus tapping the hitherto undeveloped resources of the interior.

An attack on Canton from the sea would be a far more difficult task now than formerly. The Bogue forts on the Pearl River, up which an invading flotilla must force its way, have been modernised and re‐armed with powerful guns. Hills are found within easy range of the river, from which the gunboats and shallow‐draught vessels, which alone could attempt the passage, could be shelled at a range precluding any response from their feebler weapons. And the Chinese gunners are not all to be despised, as Admiral Seymour’s column and the gallant defenders of Tientsin found to their cost.

The land approach would not be much easier. The country near the mouth of the river is intersected by creeks and canals. Even farther up, no roads are available for wheeled transport. An advance from the British territory of the Kowloon Hinterland would probably be preferable to a landing on the coast, though the route is longer. The hills beyond Samchun might prove a formidable barrier; but those once passed the difficulties would not be insuperable. The inhabitants of the southern provinces are not warlike; and the troops there have not been reorganised and disciplined like some in the north.