Part 22 (1/2)

The war lasted two years, and ended in a complete victory for the foreigners. The Bogue Forts were bombarded, and foreign s.h.i.+ps forced their way up the river. Canton was ransomed just as it was to have been attacked, but Amoy, Ningpo, Shanghai, and c.h.i.n.kiang were a.s.saulted and captured. The war was finally terminated in 1842 by a treaty, by the terms of which China paid to England six millions of dollars for the opium which had been destroyed, and opened five ports to foreign trade. This, though a gain to European and Indian commerce, was a heavy blow to Canton, which, instead of being the only open port, was but one of five. The trade, which before had been concentrated here, now spread along the coast to Amoy, Fuhchau, Ningpo, and Shanghai.

But the Ruler of Nations brings good out of evil. Wrong as was the motive of the opium war, it cannot be doubted that sooner or later war must have come from the att.i.tude of China toward European nations. For ages it had maintained a policy of exclusiveness. The rest of the world were ”outside barbarians.” It repelled their advances, not only with firmness, but almost with insult. While keeping this att.i.tude of resistance, as foreign commerce was continually knocking at its doors, a collision was inevitable. Recognizing this, we cannot but regret that it should have occurred for a cause in which China was in the right, and England in the wrong.

In the wars of England and France with China, Europe has fought with Asia, and has gotten the victory. Will it be content with what it has gained, or will it press still further, and force China to the wall?

This is the question which I heard asked everywhere in Eastern Asia.

The English merchants find their interests thwarted by the obstinate conservatism of the Chinese, and would be glad of an opportunity for a naval or military demonstration--an occasion which the Chinese are very careful not to give. There is an English fleet at Hong Kong, a few hours' sail from Canton. The admiral who was to take command came out with us on the steamer from Singapore. He was a gallant seaman, and seemed like a man who would not willingly do injustice; and yet I think his English blood would rise at the prospect of glory, if he were to receive an order from London to transfer his fleet to the Canton River, and lay it abreast of the city, or to force his way up the Pei-ho. The English merchants would hail such an appearance in these waters. Not content with the fifteen ports which they have now, they want the whole of China opened to trade. But the Chinese think they have got enough of it, and to any further invasion oppose a quiet but steady resistance. The English are impatient. They want to force an entrance, and to introduce not only the goods of Manchester, but all the modern improvements--to have railroads all over China, as in India, and steamers on all the rivers; and they think it very unreasonable that the Chinese object. But there is another side to this question. Such changes would disturb the whole internal commerce of China. They would throw out of employment, not thousands nor tens of thousands, but millions, who would perish in such an economical and industrial revolution as surely as by the waters of a deluge. An English missionary at Canton told me that it would not be possible to make any sudden changes, such as would be involved in the general introduction of railroads, or of labor-saving machines in place of the labor of human hands, without inflicting immense suffering. There are millions of people who now keep their heads just above water, and that by standing on their toes and stretching their necks, who would be drowned if it should rise an inch higher. The least agitation of the waters, and they would be submerged. Can we wonder that they hesitate to be sacrificed, and beg their government to move slowly?

America has had no part in the wars with China, although it is said that in the attack on the forts at the mouth of the Pei-ho, when the English s.h.i.+ps were hard pressed, American sailors went on board of one of them, and volunteered to serve at the guns, whether from pure love of the excitement of battle, or because they felt, as Commodore Tatnall expressed it, that ”blood was thicker than water,” is not recorded.[12] American sailors and soldiers will never be wanting in any cause which concerns their country's interest and honor. But hitherto it has been our good fortune to come into no armed collision with the Chinese, and hence the American name is in favor along the coast. Our country is represented, not so much by s.h.i.+ps of war as by merchants and missionaries. The latter, though few in number, by their wisdom as well as zeal, have done much to conciliate favor and command respect. They are not meddlers nor mischief-makers. They do not belong to the nation that has forced opium upon China, though often obliged to hear the taunt that is hurled against the whole of the English-speaking race. In their own quiet spheres, they have labored to diffuse knowledge and to exhibit practical Christianity. They have opened schools and hospitals, as well as churches. In Canton, a generation ago, Dr. Peter Parker opened a hospital, which is still continued, and which receives about nine hundred every year into its wards, besides some fifteen thousand who are treated at the doors. For twenty years it was in charge of Dr. Kerr, who nearly wore himself out in his duties; and is now succeeded by Dr. Carrow, a young physician who left a good practice in Jersey City to devote himself to this work. Hundreds undergo operation for the stone--a disease quite common in the South, but which Chinese surgery is incompetent to treat--and who are here rescued from a lingering death. That is the way American Christianity should be represented in China. In Calcutta I saw the great opium s.h.i.+ps bound for Hong Kong. Let England have a monopoly of that trade, but let America come to China with healing in one hand and the Gospel in the other.

Nor is this all which American missionaries have done. They have rendered a service--not yet noticed as it should be--to literature, and in preparing the way for the intercourse of China with other nations. An American missionary, Dr. Martin, is President of the University at Peking, established by the government. Dr. S. Wells Williams, in the more than forty years of his residence in China, has prepared a Chinese-English Dictionary, which I heard spoken of everywhere in the East as the best in existence. In other ways his knowledge of the language and the people has been of service both to China and to America, during his twenty-one years' connection with the Legation. And if American diplomacy has succeeded in gaining many substantial advantages for our country, while it has skilfully avoided wounding the susceptibilities of the Chinese, the success is due in no small degree to this modest American missionary.

De Quincey said if he were to live in China, he should go mad. No wonder. The free English spirit could not be so confined. There is something in this enormous population, weighed down with the conservatism of ages, that oppresses the intellect. It is a forced stagnation. China is a boundless and a motionless ocean. Its own people may not feel it, but one accustomed to the free life of Europe looks upon it as a vast Dead Sea, in whose leaden waters nothing can live.

But even this Dead Sea is beginning to stir with life. There is a heaving, as when the Polar Ocean breaks up, and the liberated waves sweep far and wide--

”Swinging low with sullen roar.”

Such is the sound which is beginning to be heard on all the sh.o.r.es of Asia. Since foreigners have begun to come into China, the Chinese go abroad more than ever before. There is developed a new spirit of emigration. Not only do they come to California, but go to Australia, and to all the islands of Southern Asia. They are the most enterprising as well as the most industrious of emigrants. They have an extraordinary apt.i.tude for commerce. They are in the East what the Jews are in other parts of the world--the money-changers, the mercantile cla.s.s, the petty traders; and wherever they come, they are sure to ”pick up” and to ”go ahead.” Who can put bounds to such a race, that not content with a quarter of Asia, overflows so much of the remaining parts of the Eastern hemisphere?

On our Pacific Coast the Chinese have appeared as yet only as laborers and servants, or as attempting the humblest industries. Their reception has not been such as we can regard with satisfaction and pride. Poor John Chinaman! Patient toiler on the railroad or in the mine, yet doomed to be kicked about in the land whose prosperity he has done so much to promote. There is something very touching in his love for his native country--a love so strong that he desires even in death to be carried back to be buried in the land which gave him birth. Some return living, only to tell of a treatment in strange contrast with that which our countrymen have received in China, as well as in violation of the solemn obligations of treaties. We cannot think of this cruel persecution but with indignation at our country's shame.

No one can visit China without becoming interested in the country and its people. There is much that is good in the Chinese, in their patient industry, and in their strong domestic feeling. Who can but respect a people that honor their fathers and mothers in a way to furnish an example to the whole Christian world? who indeed exaggerate their reverence to such a degree that they even wors.h.i.+p their ancestors? The ma.s.s of the people are miserably poor, but they do not murmur at their lot. They take it patiently, and even cheerfully; for they see in it a mixture of dark and bright. In their own beautiful and poetical saying: ”The moon s.h.i.+nes bright amid the firs.” May it not only s.h.i.+ne through the gloom of deep forests, but rise higher and higher, till it casts a flood of light over the whole Eastern sky!

FOOTNOTE:

[12] As this incident has excited a great deal of interest, I am happy to give it as it occurred from an eye-witness. One who was on board of Commodore Tatnall's s.h.i.+p writes:

”I was present at the battle in the Pei-ho in 1859, and know all the particulars. Admiral Hope having been wounded, was urged to bring up the marines before sunset, and sent his aid down to take them off the three junks, where they were waiting at the mouth of the river. The aid came on board the ”Toeywan” to see Commodore Tatnall, tell him the progress of the battle, and what he had been sent down for, adding that, as the tide was running out, it would be hard work getting up again. As he went on, Tatnall began to get restless, and turning to me (I sat next), said: 'Blood is thicker than water; I don't care if they do take away my commission.' Then turning to his own flag-lieutenant at the other end of the table, he said aloud: 'Get up steam;' and everything was ready for a start in double-quick time. When all was prepared, the launches, full of marines, were towed into action by the ”Toeywan”; and casting them off, the Commodore left in his barge to go on board the British flag-s.h.i.+p, to see the wounded Admiral. On the way his barge was. .h.i.t, his c.o.xswain killed, and the rest just managed to get on board the ”Lee” before their boat sunk, owing their lives probably to his presence of mind. It was only the men in this boat's crew who helped to work the British guns. I suppose Tatnall never meant his words to be repeated, but Hope's aid overheard them, and thus immortalized them.”

CHAPTER XXV.

THREE WEEKS IN j.a.pAN.

We left Hong Kong on the 15th of May, just one year from the day that we sailed from New York on our journey around the world. As we completed these twelve months, we embarked on our twelfth voyage.

After being so long on foreign s.h.i.+ps--English and French and Dutch: Austrian Lloyds and Messageries Maritimes--it was pleasant to be at last on one that bore the flag of our country, and bore it so proudly as ”The City of Peking.” As we stepped on her deck, and looked up at the stars above us, we felt that we were almost on the soil of our country. As we were now approaching America, though still over six thousand miles away, and nearly ten thousand from New York, we thought it was time to telegraph that we were coming, but found that ”the longest way round was the nearest way home.” The direct cable across the Bay of Bengal, from Penang to Madras, was broken, and the message had to go by Siberia. It seemed indeed a long, long way, but the lightning regards neither s.p.a.ce nor time. Swift as thought the message flew up the coast of China to Siberia, and then across the whole breadth of two continents, Asia and Europe, and dived under the Atlantic, to come up on the sh.o.r.es of America.

The harbor of Hong Kong was gay with s.h.i.+ps decorated with flags, and the British fleet was still firing salutes, which seemed to be its daily pastime, as the City of Peking began to move. With a grand sweep she circled round the bay, and then running swiftly into a winding pa.s.sage among islands, through which is the entrance to the harbor, steamed out on the broad Pacific.

We had intended to go to Shanghai, and through the Inland Sea of j.a.pan, but we sacrificed even such a pleasure (or rather left it till the next time) to take advantage of this n.o.ble s.h.i.+p, that was bound direct for Yokohama. Our course took us through the Channel of Formosa, in full sight of the island, which has had an unenviable notoriety from the treatment of the crews of s.h.i.+ps wrecked on its inhospitable coast. Leaving it far behind, in six days we were running along the sh.o.r.es of j.a.pan, and might have seen the snowy head of Fusiyama, had it not been wrapped in clouds. The next morning we left behind the long roll of the Pacific, and entered the Bay of Yedo--a gulf fifty miles deep, whose clear, sparkling waters shone in the sunlight. Fis.h.i.+ng-boats were skimming the tranquil surface. The j.a.panese are born to the sea. All around the coast they live upon it, and are said to derive from it one-third of their subsistence. The sh.o.r.es, sloping from the water's edge, are sprinkled with j.a.panese villages. Some thirty miles from the sea we pa.s.s Mississippi Bay, so called from the flag-s.h.i.+p of Commodore Perry, which lay here with his fleet while he was conducting the negotiations for the opening of j.a.pan; the headland above it bears the name of Treaty Point. Rounding this point, we see before us in the distance a forest of s.h.i.+pping, and soon cast anchor in the harbor of Yokohama.

Yokohama has a pleasant look from the sea, an impression increased as we are taken off in a boat, and landed on the quay--a sea wall, which keeps out the waves, and furnishes a broad terrace for the front of the town. Here is a wide street called ”The Bund,” on which stand the princ.i.p.al hotels. From our rooms we look out directly on the harbor.

Among the steamers from foreign ports, are a number of s.h.i.+ps of war, among which is the Tennessee, the flags.h.i.+p of our Asiatic squadron, bearing the broad pennant of Admiral Reynolds, whom we had known in America, and indeed had bidden good-by at our own door, as we stepped into the carriage to drive to the steamer. We parted, hoping to meet in Asia, a wish which was now fulfilled. He was very courteous to us during our stay, sending his boat to bring us on board, and coming often with his excellent wife to see us on sh.o.r.e. It gave us a pleasant feeling of nearness to home, to have a great s.h.i.+p full of our countrymen close at hand.

In the rear of the town the hill which overlooks the harbor, bears the foreign name of ”The Bluff.” Here is quite an American colony, including several missionary families, in which we became very much at home before we left j.a.pan.

Yokohama has an American newness and freshness. It is only a few years since it has come into existence as a place of any importance. It was only a small fis.h.i.+ng village until the opening of j.a.pan, since which it has become the chief port of foreign commerce. It is laid out in convenient streets, which are well paved, and kept clean, and altogether the place has a brisk and lively air, as of some new and thriving town in our own country.

But just at this moment we are not so much interested to see American improvements as to see the natives on their own soil. Here they are in all their glory--pure-blooded Asiatics--and yet of a type that is not Mongolian or Malayan or Indian. The j.a.p is neither a ”mild Hindoo” nor a ”heathen Chinee.” His hair is shaved from his head in a fas.h.i.+on quite his own, making a sort of triangle on the crown; and no long pigtail decorates his person behind. We recognize him at once, for never was a human creature so exactly like his portrait. We see every day the very same figures that we have seen all our lives on tea-cups and saucers, and fans and boxes. Our first acquaintance with them was as charioteers, in which they take the place, not of drivers, but of horses; for the _jin-riki-sha_ (literally, a carriage drawn by man power) has no other ”team” harnessed to it. The vehicle is exactly like a baby carriage, only made for ”children of a larger growth.” It is simply an enlarged perambulator, on two wheels, drawn by a coolie; and when one takes his seat in it, he cannot help feeling at first as if he were a big baby, whom his nurse had tucked up and was taking out for an airing. But one need not be afraid of it, lest he break down the carriage, or tire out the steed that draws it. No matter how great your excellency may be, the stout fellow will take up the thills, standing where the pony or the donkey ought to be, and trot off with you at a good pace, making about four miles an hour. At first the impression was irresistibly ludicrous, and we laughed at ourselves to see what a ridiculous figure we cut. Indeed we did not quite recover our sobriety during the three weeks that we were in j.a.pan. But after all it is a very convenient way of getting about, and one at least is satisfied that his horses will not run away, though he must not be too sure of that, for I sometimes felt, especially when going down hill, that they had got loose, and would land me with a broken head at the bottom.

But Yokohama is only the gate of Yedo (or Tokio, as it is the fas.h.i.+on to call it now, but I keep to the old style as more familiar), of which we had read even in our school geographies as one of the most populous cities of Asia. The access is very easy, for it is only eighteen miles distant, and there is a railroad, so that it is but an hour's ride. While on our way that morning, we had our first sight of Fusiyama. Though seventy miles distant, its dome of snow rose on the horizon sharp and clear, like the Jungfrau at Interlachen.