We returned to Kobé by way of Osaka, a city nearly as large as Kioto, and much more of a business and manufacturing centre. The national mint is located here, with some other large government works. The ancient fort overlooking the town is of great interest, and is still fortified, affording barracks for a couple of regiments of the regular army. It is a remarkably substantial structure; many of the stones of which it is composed are so large that it is a wonder how they could ever have been transported intact from the quarry. Osaka has rivers and canals running through it much like Amsterdam, though not so numerous, and has been appropriately called the Venice of Japan. It is not Europeanized like Kobé or Yokohama; it is purely Japanese in all respects, and possesses a considerable commerce. The day of our arrival was a festal one, being consecrated to the god of the waters; wherefore large boats gayly decked with flags and party-colored streamers, containing crowds of gayly dressed men in harlequin style, were rowing in long processions through the water-ways of the city and under the many high-arched bridges. On the decks of the boats the people were dancing and singing (howling), to the notes of an indescribable instrument, which could give a Scotch bag-pipe liberal odds and then surpass it in its most hideous discordance. Music is not a strong point with the Chinese or Japanese; if they have any actual melody in their compositions, no foreign ear can detect it. At one of the public performances at Kobé it seemed that the notes were produced by a file and rusty saw.
We embarked at Kobé November 26th, on the Japanese steamship Nügata Marü, officered by Europeans, but manned by natives, bound for Nagasaki, near the southernmost point of Japan, and to reach which we sailed the whole length of the famous and beautiful Inland Sea. It was a most enchanting voyage of two days and two nights, among innumerable islands and grotesquely formed hills, which were covered with foliage and verdure to the very water's edge. Many of these islands were inhabited, and cultivated on their abrupt sides in terraces, like vineyards on the Rhine, displaying great care and taste. The aspect of the conical islands, bluffs, headlands, and inlets recalled the St. Lawrence River in Canada, presenting narrow and winding passages, losing themselves in creeks and bays after a most curious fashion, while little brown hamlets here and there fringed the coast line. At night, the scene changing constantly was enhanced in beauty by the clearness of the atmosphere and the brightness of the moon. We slept scarcely at all on board the Nügata Marü; it seemed almost sacrilege to miss an hour of the beautiful flying panorama which was being so silently spread before our vision.
The sea was one sheet of rippling silver; the stars, partially eclipsed by the moon, "silver empress of the night," were nevertheless bright and sparkling with diamond lustre. All was still, for though we eagerly watched, we rarely spoke; silence became eloquent on such an occasion. Now and then the deep, hoarse voice of the captain from the forecastle of the steamer floated aft: "Port your helm," "Starbord," "Steady." In this intricate navigation the captain leaves the bridge to the officer of the watch, and temporarily takes the post of the forward lookout. Now we run close in under some towering headland, now sheer off from a green isle so near that none but an experienced pilot would dare to hug the shore so closely. At many points the sea seemed to be completely land-locked, like the Lakes of Killarney, framed in by lofty hills. Too much had not been promised us in this special voyage through the Inland Sea. For once, fruition was confirmation. We could have sailed on and on, over those still, deep waters and among those fairy-like isles, for weeks unwearied, and when at last we anchored in the snug harbor of Nagasaki the voyage had been only too brief.
A sad interest attaches to the small but lofty island of Pappenburg, which stands like a sentinel guarding the entrance to the harbor of Nagasaki. It is the Tarpeian Rock of the far East. During the persecution of the Christians in the seventeenth century, the steep cliff, which forms the seaward side of the island, was an execution point, and from here men and women who declined to abjure their faith were cast headlong on to the sea-washed rocks far below. The present verdure and beauty which so characterize the spot are in strong contrast with the sad history of the place; nor could we gaze upon its precipitous side, as we steamed slowly by, without a shudder at the tragedies once enacted there.
Nagasaki was found to be a thrifty commercial city of about a hundred thousand inhabitants, with a fine harbor, the entrance being as narrow as that of Havana; but once inside, the combined fleets of the world might find good anchorage under the shallow of the lofty hills which surround its deep, clear waters. The extreme length of the harbor must be about four miles, by two in width. Tall, dark pines and a verdant undergrowth mark the deep ravines and sloping hill-sides, upon which European dwellings may be seen overlooking the bay, interspersed with a few Buddhist temples. During a delightful afternoon stroll and climb among these hills, we came upon many wild flowers, shaded by oaks and camphor-trees of great size and beautiful foliage, with occasional specimens of the Japan wax-tree. Still farther up, the hills were covered with dark, moss-crowned grave-stones, bearing curious characters and marking the sleeping-place of by-gone generations, the unbroken quiet of this city of the dead, contrasting with the hum of feverish life that came up from the busy town.
Nagasaki is quaint even for a Japanese city, its clean, broad streets ornamented by growing palms, pomegranates, and bamboo-trees, while each shop is a little museum in itself. Like Osaka, it is thoroughly Japanese in its appearance, as well as in the manners and customs of its thrifty inhabitants. Here, and throughout the entire country, one feels impressed with the evident peace, plenty, and content. As to the products of this locality, they are mostly figured porcelain, embroidered silks, japaned goods, ebony and shell finely carved and manufactured into ornaments. Every little low house has a shop in front, and is, as usual, quite open to the street; but small as these houses are, room is nearly always found in the rear or side for a little flower-garden, fifteen or twenty feet square, where dwarf trees flourish amid little hillocks of turf, and ferns, and small tubs of gold fish. Azaleas, laurels, and tiny clumps of bamboos are the most common plants to be seen.
This indicates a pure and simple taste in the people, yet there is a system of social debasement throughout Japan, which was here so obvious that it cannot be passed without notice. It is no worse, perhaps, than in Vienna or Paris, where the law affords it certain sanction; but when realized in connection with the quiet, peaceful aspect of Japanese domestic life, the contrast renders the system more repulsive than it appears elsewhere. The young women in these public establishments are really slaves, as much as Circassian girls sold into Turkish harems, or at Moorish Tangier. In Japan they are also sold, while yet children, by their parents, for this purpose, and for a period of ten years. At the close of their term such women are not considered disgraced, and are eligible for marriage, frequently being sought by desirable husbands, and rearing respectable families. The Japanese are not immaculate, and primitive innocence does not exist among them. Virtue in women before marriage is held rather lightly, but afterwards they must be spotless, otherwise the penalty is death.
As regards the flora of Japan we learned some interesting facts. Though the country is densely populated for its number of square miles, the forest area is four times more extensive than that portion brought under cultivation. Botanists declare its vegetation to be the richest, as well as the most varied, of any portion of the globe. The cultivation of the soil is skillfully and thoroughly systematized, the greatest possible results being obtained from a given area. This is partly due to a system of thorough enrichment, applied in the form of liquid manure, and entirely by hand. Its flora is spontaneous and magnificent, repaying the least attention by a development and profuseness of yield that is surprising. Next in importance to the product of rice, which is the staple food of the people, comes that of the mulberry and tea-plants, one species of the former not only feeding the silk-worm, but also, as has been mentioned, affording the fibre of which paper is made, as well as cordage and dress material. In usefulness the bamboo is most remarkable, growing to a height of fifty or sixty feet, and entering into the construction of house-frames, screens, mats, pipes, and sails. The umbrella-pine grows to a height of a hundred feet, with dense foliage, and the cedars reach two hundred feet, with a girth of twenty, which is, however, far exceeded by the noble camphor-trees. The camphor of commerce is extracted from the stem and roots, cut into small pieces, by a simple process of decoction.
As at San Francisco, there is an abundance of birds hovering constantly about the harbor of Nagasaki, not sea-gulls, but a brown fishing-hawk, which here seems to take the place of the gull, swooping down upon its finny prey after the same fashion, and uttering a wild, shrill cry when doing so. Another peculiarity about this feathery fisherman is that he affects the rigging of ships lying at anchor, and roosts in the shrouds or on the spars, which a sea-gull or other ocean bird is rarely known to do. This harbor, in its sheltered character, resembles a Swiss or Scotch lake, many of its peculiarities being identical with them. The hills spring from the very water's edge, and the pine is the prevailing tree; the principal difference being an inclination here to more tropical verdure than in the localities referred to. The bay is nearly land-locked, and while a pretty heavy gale may be blowing just outside, the surface of the harbor would be scarcely ruffled.
The ship took in coal here after a style quite Japanese. Large flat boats came alongside, each laden with many tons of coal from a native mine near at hand; and a broad port-hole being opened near the ship's coal bunks, a line of Japanese girls and boys, each not more than twelve or thirteen years of age, was formed upon a gangway reaching from the bunks down the ship's side to the coal barge. Along this line of girls and boys were rapidly passed baskets of coal, which might weigh from sixty to eighty pounds each, so fast as to form one continuous stream of the article discharging on board. The empty baskets were passed back into the coaling barge by a line of younger girls at another port-hole, being refilled by a third gang in the boat. The line of full coal baskets would not be broken once in an hour, until the barge was emptied and another hauled alongside to be similarly discharged. It was remarkable how quickly the ship took on board her necessary supply of fuel in this manner, and how steadily those young begrimed children worked all day. The local agent told us they were paid for the ten or twelve hours' work fifteen cents each. Their boiled rice and dried fish would cost them four or five cents for the day, and so they would be able to save ten cents. Clothing does not enter into cost when it is not worn, and these little imps were as nearly naked as was possible. They stopped work for about twenty-five minutes at meridian, and were served each with a bowl of rice and fish, which they dispatched with chopsticks, then drank a lacquered bowl of hot tea.
An extremely interesting month had been passed in the country which we were now about to leave behind us, and should have been glad to tarry longer in, but our arrangements, to a certain extent, were imperative, and so we prepared to sail southward, through the long reach of the China Sea. Some reflections, the result of our late experience, were forced upon us at this juncture, relative to the people whose brief acquaintance we had made.
The natural intelligence of the Japanese has no superior among any race, however much it may be perverted, or have lain dormant for want of stimulus. There is evidence sufficient of this in the fact that the young men of Japan, who are sent to this country for educational purposes, so frequently win academic prizes and honors over our native scholars. This, too, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which a foreigner must be placed. Instances of the brightness of their natural intelligence have been so numerous in our colleges and educational institutions as to cause public remark. It is therefore safe to say that the mental capacity of the Japanese youth is certainly equal to those of our own in the same class of society. No sooner have they been fairly introduced to American and European civilization than they have taken a stride, of four or five centuries at a single leap, from feudalism in its most ultra form to constitutional government. When an American squadron opened the port of Yokohama, in 1853, to the commerce of the world, it also opened that hermetically sealed land to the introduction of progressive ideas; and though, unfortunately, the elements of civilization which are most readily assimilated are not always the most beneficial, still, the result, taken as a whole, has been worthy of the admiration of the world at large.
When we speak of the progress of the Japanese as a nation, we must not forget that the national records of the country date from nearly seven hundred years before the time of Christ on earth, and that a regular succession of Mikados, in lineal descent from the founders of their dynasty and race, has since that remote date been carefully preserved. Taking the Western Powers as a model, the Japanese have not failed to emulate them in nearly all the prominent features of civilization, promptly furnishing themselves with rifled cannon and torpedo boats, with newspapers and a national debt. As we have remarked, the army and civil officers have long since adopted the American costume. The railroad and the telegraph, too much of an innovation for the more pretentious Chinese, are quite domesticated in Japan. But still it is really to be hoped that the progressive spirit, so apparent in the policy of the Mikado and his advisers, may not quite obliterate all traces of the antique and picturesque customs of a country so peculiar and original.
CHAPTER IV
Sail for Hong Kong. – Ocean Storms. – Sunset at Sea. – A Water-Spout. – Arrival in China. – Typhoon Bay. – Manners and Customs. – In and about Hong Kong. – Public Buildings. – Voyage up the Pearl River. – City of Canton. – Strangest of Strange Cities. – Opium Dens. – Temple of Honan. – The Worship of Swine. – Praying with a Fan. – Local Peculiarities. – Half Round the World. – Singapore. – A Tiger Hunt. – Burial at Sea. – Penang. – The Wonderful Palm.
We sailed from Nagasaki early on the morning of November 29th, in the same steamship, the Nügata Marü, which had brought us from Kobé, being now bound for Hong Kong, through the Yellow and China Seas, a distance of eleven hundred miles. These are proverbially rough waters, and they fully sustained their reputation for the first two days of the voyage. The marvel seemed rather to be that more ships were not lost here, than that so many were. It is really little better than a vast graveyard for commerce. Our staunch iron hull was tossed about like a feather in the wind, causing us to realize that there is something awfully grand in these ocean storms, uncomfortable as they are.
Our crew was composed of Japanese, and excellent sailors they are, quiet, obedient, and untiring. Sea life is very similar in nearly all latitudes, and affords but few incidents worthy of recording. An old sea-captain told the author, some years since, that the finest sunsets he had ever seen were in these waters, off the coast of Cochin China, and that it was a peculiarity of the region; or, to use his own words, "First, we would have a typhoon that shivered our sails into threads, and then a sunset that looked like a scene in a theatre." Allowance was made in this instance for a fancied charm brought about by the great contrast of a raging storm followed by a serene nightfall. It seemed as though we had witnessed as fine exhibitions of Nature in this line, both in Europe and America, as could be enjoyed, but an agreeable surprise was in store for us.
We had crossed the southern portion of the Yellow Sea, and having run down the Corean Straits, with the Loo-Choo Islands under our lee, were sailing southward upon the China Sea. It was the 2d of December, and we too were now off the coast of Cochin China. Never before had any of our little party witnessed such a gorgeous array of cloud and color effect; nor was the display fleeting. The peculiar aspect lasted for half an hour or more, full of change to be sure, like opal hues, hovering and evanescent, but not obliterated. The transparent clouds that hung above the western horizon, as dainty in form and texture as a butterfly's wings, were tinted with turquoise blue. Immediately over the section where the sun had so lately disappeared, the gradations of color were multiform and brilliant, fading into each other's embrace. Close to the water line, where sky and ocean mingled, there was a mound of quivering flame that seemed like burning lava pouring from some volcanic source. This lavish display of iris hues was softly reflected by the vapory tissue of clouds that hung over the opposite expanse; the shades changing to ruby and sapphire tints alternately, until the east almost rivaled the west in the gorgeousness of its robes. In the mean time the sea, now wonderfully calm, expanding into infinite space, reproduced upon its shimmering surface, as in a mirror, this magic array of color permeated by the amber twilight. Gradually the curtain of night dropped over the scene, but there still lingered a long crimson line on the distant horizon where the sun had sunk into the sea. The most careless eye on board the ship watched the constantly changing effects with bated breath. Nature revels in beauty, and does her work with a lavish hand in the far East. It has been our lot to see the sun set in many lands and on many seas, but never before in such gorgeous splendor.
Just at night, December 4th, we arrived below Hong Kong, dropping anchor in Typhoon Bay, where, among the dark shadows of the cliff-like shore, we watched the stars overhead and the long bright wake cast by the light-house, counted the small dancing lights in the native settlements on the shore, and wondered what Hong Kong was like.
With the early morning light we steamed up to the magnificent harbor, surrounded by a range of lofty hills, rendering it a shelter and affording depth of water sufficient for any known tonnage. Its extensive area was well covered with ships of war and merchantmen, bearing the flags of all nations, among which the Stars and Stripes gladdened our eyes. Hong Kong signifies "good harbor" in Chinese, and the name is well applied. This is the most easterly possession of Great Britain, which she has taken care to render very strong in a military point of view, and where a large number of troops are constantly kept. The scarlet uniforms of the garrison form a striking feature of the busy streets, at all hours of the day. The houses in the European section of the city are large and handsome structures, mostly of stone, rising tier upon tier from the main street to a height of some hundreds of feet on the face of the hill immediately back of the town. On and about the lofty Victoria Peak are many charming bungalows, with attractive surroundings, and a noble prospect of the harbor and country. The streets appropriated to the occupancy of the Europeans are spacious and clean, but the Chinese portion of Hong Kong is quite characteristic of the race, – very crowded and very dirty, seeming to invite all sorts of epidemic diseases; and consequently the mortality is very great and sweeping at times, promoted by ignorance and excess among strangers and seamen.
One soon learns to detect an opium-eating people, and here we found examples all about us in every relation of life. It is a vice nearly always pursued in secret, but its traces upon the heavy, bleared eye and sallow features are plain and disfiguring enough. The disgraceful trade in the fatal drug, forced upon China by the English at the point of the bayonet, flourishes and increases, forming the heaviest item of import. It seems almost incredible that a people can long exist and consume such large quantities of this active poison. Other forms of stimulants are seldom resorted to by the natives, and an intoxicated person is scarcely, if ever, met with among the Chinese population. As to Europeans, it is the same here as it is in India, the habit of drinking freely of spirituous liquors is universal, and one half the invalidism which is attributed to climate should be ascribed to indulgence in hard drinking.
The streets of Hong Kong afford strange local pictures. The shoemaker industriously plies his trade in the open thoroughfare; cooking goes on in the gutters beside the sidewalks filling the atmosphere with greasy odors; the itinerant peddler, with a wooden box hung from his neck, disposes of food made from mysterious sources; the street barber is seen actively employed out of doors; the milkman drives his goats to the customer's door and there milks the required quantity; the Chinese themselves ignore the article altogether. The universal fan is carried by men, not by women, and when the owner is not using it, he thrusts it in the back of his neck with the handle protruding. Sedan chairs are rushing hither and thither, borne upon men's shoulders, transporting both natives and Europeans on business errands. Here, as in southern Italy, one observes a propensity to eat, sleep, live, and die in the streets, exhibited by the mass of the population.
Imagine a short, slouchy figure, with sloping eyes, a yellow complexion, features characterized by a sort of low cunning, a shaved head with a pigtail, clad in a loose cloth blouse, half shirt and half jacket, continuations not exactly pants nor yet a petticoat, and shoes thick-soled and shearing upwards like a Madras surf-boat, and you have John Chinaman as he appears at home. The portrait is universal. One Chinaman is as like another as two peas, – a uniformity often leading to ludicrous mistakes. John eats principally rice. It is in fact the basis of all his dishes, which are varied by the addition of dried fish and vegetables, adding occasionally such portions of animals as are usually thrown away by civilized people. Rats, cats, and dogs are not declined by his omnivorous appetite, and he is charged with craving nearly all sorts of vermin, such as snakes, slugs, scorpion's eggs, and caterpillars, which he complacently adds to his stews. Without the physical strength or size of Europeans, he makes up in industry what he lacks in muscle; and as his food costs about one fifth the sum which we generally calculate necessary for a common laborer, he can work much cheaper, and still lay up money from his wages.
Certain peculiarities challenge our observation. The Chinese mariner's compass does not point to the north pole, but to the south; that is, the index is placed on the opposite end of the needle. When Chinamen meet each other in the street, instead of mutually grasping hands, they shake their own hands. The men wear skirts and the women wear pants. The men wear their hair as long as it will grow, the women bind theirs up as snug as possible. The dressmakers are not women, but men. The spoken language is never written, and the written language is never spoken. In reading a book the Chinaman begins at the end and reads backwards; all notes in the books appear at the top of the page in place of the bottom, as with us. White is the mourning color, not black; surnames precede the given names; vessels are launched sideways, not endways; in mounting a horse the Chinese do so from the off-side. At dinner we commence the meal with soup and fish, they reverse the order and begin with the dessert. Grown up men fly kites, and boys look on admiringly; our bridesmaids are young and dressed in white, theirs are old women clad in black; and so on.
From its special position in the East, Hong Kong is the resort of all sorts of people, from all quarters of the globe. England is of course the most strongly represented. There are comparatively very few Americans, but plenty of French and Germans, the latter mostly Jews and money lenders. There are numbers of East Indians, Italians, Portuguese, and Spaniards, with here and there a Parsee, making altogether a population which reminds one of Marseilles in its conglomerate character. These several races, mingling with the Chinese, make up an incongruous community. An early morning visit to the water front of the city affords much amusement, especially at the hour when the market boats arrive from the country, and from along shore, with fish and vegetables. Here the people swarm like ants or bees more than like human beings, all eager for business, all crowding and talking at the same time, and creating a confusion that would seem to defeat its own object, namely, to buy and to sell. The vegetables are various and good; the variety of fruit limited and poor in flavor; but the fish are abundant and various in shape, size, and colors. Nine tenths of the business on the river front is done by women, and nearly all have an infant strapped to their backs, while they carry heavy burdens in their hands, or are engaged in rowing or sculling their boats. They carry on trade, make change, clean fish, and the like, quite oblivious of the infants at their backs. Babies thus managed are often shaken about most unmercifully, and among Europeans would assert themselves by the loudest screeching; but who ever heard a Chinese or Japanese baby cry?
The environs of Hong Kong are extremely interesting, and the roads are kept in most admirable condition. The jinrikisha is the common mode of conveyance, though the palanquin is perhaps nearly as much used. The introduction of the former vehicle into both China and Japan is of quite recent date. We enjoyed several expeditious in the suburbs by both means of transportation, the charges being extremely moderate. The Japanese jinrikisha men seemed lighter, yet more muscular, than do their Chinese brethren when between the shafts; and the latter, after a few miles, exhibited symptoms of fatigue, whereas, on a long thirty-five mile trip, this was never observed in a Japanese: either he was superior in pluck or muscles, or both, to John Chinaman.
The English burial-ground, located about three miles from the town, is a very beautiful cemetery, and is to Hong Kong what Mount Auburn is to Boston, – not quite so extensive, but superior in its collection of flowers and trees, which must have been gathered and naturalized here at a great cost. The varieties of the cactus family are remarkable in numbers and mode of training. The same may be said of the camphor-tree, the aloes, tall and graceful cypresses, mingling with which are Cape jasmines, hydrangeas, magnolias, and the scarlet geranium, tall and hedge-like, barked by white, variegated, and scarlet camellias. Everything indicated a semi-tropical climate. These Chinese gardeners exhibit great skill and genius in the cultivation of all plants, and landscape gardening is carried far beyond our ideas of the art in America. Some flowering shrubs, on close examination, proved to be old friends, but so trained and developed as to be hardly recognizable. We observed a curious mode of grafting plants so as to cause several species to blossom on the same branch, thus forming, as it were, a glowing bouquet. The samples of dwarf trees were also very singular, – a little orange-tree, for instance, bearing an orange weighing more than itself, and lemons so arranged as to grow by grafting in and with an orange. It was an agreeable sight to see choice bouquets for sale on the public streets, containing a great variety of flowers arranged with genuine taste, a little too formal and stiff to meet our fancy, but yet finding ready customers at reasonable prices. In Madrid, Florence, or Paris, it is sunny-faced girls who offer these fragrant emblems to the passer-by; but at Hong Kong it is done with less effect by almond-eyed men and ragged boys. The city is so far Europeanized as to be less typical of Chinese manners and customs than are cities further inland; but revelations come upon us with less of a shock when mingled, as they are here, with more civilized methods.
The policemen of Hong Kong are Sikhs, whom the English government have imported from India for this special service. These officers are under excellent discipline. They are tall, dark, and heavily bearded men, presenting quite a striking appearance in their semi-military uniforms. Of course they have no sympathy with the Chinese, who cower under the police batons, which are ruthlessly used when deemed necessary. Society in the city is entirely English, and, to use an expressive word, is "fast." Balls, races, regattas, and fêtes of all kinds follow each other with ceaseless energy. The gayety of domestic and social life, and the luxurious mode of living generally, exceed that of any European colony we have chanced to meet with. Club life, evening entertainments, and late hours, are the characteristics of Hong Kong; the serious affairs of life seem to have been left at home in far-off England, – an inevitable result where the military element enters so largely into the community.