CHAP. V.
LAND AT CHUSAN.—DESCRIPTION OF THE ISLAND.—TOWN OF TINGHAE.—AGRICULTURE.—STAPLE PRODUCTIONS.—HEMP PLANTS.—PALM OF WHICH ROPES ARE MADE.—TREFOIL CULTIVATED FOR MANURE.—OIL PLANT.—FLORA.—HILLS COVERED WITH AZALEAS, ETC.—THE TALLOW TREE.—GREEN-TEA SHRUB.—BAMBOOS AND OTHER TREES.—FRUITS.—YANG MAI AND KUM-QUAT.—INHABITANTS AND SHOPS IN TINGHAE.—ENGLISH NAMES ON SHOP DOORS.—A NEW LANGUAGE.—MODE OF CLASSING FOREIGNERS.—DISEASES OF THE EYE COMMON.—SALT-MAKING.—METHOD OF PREPARING THE VEGETABLE TALLOW.—MODE OF HATCHING EGGS BY ARTIFICIAL HEAT.
Our little vessel being sufficiently repaired, we were able to proceed on our voyage. This time we were more fortunate, and reached the Chusan group of islands in ten days from Chimoo. When we neared the islands, I was delighted with the change in the aspect of the country; and as we anchored off Keto Point, waiting for the tide, Captain Landers kindly allowed me to have the ship's boat and crew to go on shore. The first glance at the vegetation convinced me that this must be the field of my future operations, and I had then no doubt that my mission would end most successfully. Here the hills were no longer barren, but either cultivated, or clothed with beautiful green grass, trees, and brushwood. I returned to the vessel in high spirits, and in a few hours afterwards we were at anchor in the fine Bay of Chusan.
Chusan is a large and beautiful island, twenty miles in length and ten or twelve in breadth at the broadest part. In approaching it, the view of the numerous other islands which stud the sea in all directions, is striking and picturesque, noble mountains towering above the other land, and fertile valleys sloping gradually to the ocean. The island itself is a succession of hills, valleys, and glens, presenting an appearance not unlike the scenery in the Highlands of Scotland. At the head of every valley there are mountain passes, over which the inhabitants cross when they wish to visit the interior of the island. The valleys are rich and beautiful, surrounded by mountains, which in many parts are covered with trees, and in others under cultivation: these, in their turn, again open and expose other vallies no less fertile, rich in vegetation, and watered by the clear streams from the mountains. Thus the traveller can visit the whole of the island, his way winding through valleys and over mountain passes, until his prospect is at last arrested by the sea, of which he has had frequent glimpses during the journey. Did our island of Hong-kong possess the natural advantages and beauties of Chusan, what a splendid place it might have been made by our enterprising English merchants in a very few years!
The principal town is Tinghae, well known as the place twice taken by the English troops during the last war. It is but small, compared with any of the other five ports where foreigners are now trading: the walls are not more than three miles in circumference, and the suburbs not very extensive. When I was there, the island was in the hands of the English, being retained by them until 1846, under the treaty of Nanking, and Tinghae was of course the head quarters of the troops: we had also military stations at Sing-kong and Sing-kie-mun, the western and eastern parts of the island. Major-General Sir James Schoedde, the officer in command, to whom I had letters from Lord Stanley, very kindly procured me quarters in a house within the walls, and I immediately commenced operations. I was fortunate in becoming acquainted with Dr. Maxwell, of the 2d Madras native infantry, who was stationed there. This gentleman, an ardent lover of botanical pursuits, had been most indefatigable in his researches, and was consequently able to give me much valuable information. He had also made drawings of all the more striking plants which he had met with on the island, and I was thus at once put in possession of information which it would have taken me some months to acquire in any other way.
During two years from this date (Nov. 1843), I had frequent opportunities of visiting Chusan, at all seasons of the year, and was consequently enabled to gain a perfect knowledge of the soil, productions, and flora of the island. The soil of the hills is a rich gravelly loam; in the valleys it is more stiff, from having less vegetable matter mixed with it, and from being almost continually under water. The rocks of granite, however, of the same kind as those noticed on the barren southern hills, exist here also; and although they are generally covered with soil and vegetation, they have doubtless been at some former time as bleak and barren as their southern neighbours.
All the valleys and hill-sides are under cultivation; paddy is the principal crop on the low grounds, and sweet potatoes on the hills. In the spring and early summer months, crops of wheat, barley, beans, peas and maize are grown on the hilly and rising grounds, the low paddy land being too wet for such crops. Cotton is also grown on the island, but the quantity is inconsiderable it is only for the home use of the small farmers on whose land it grows. There is a species of Urtica, both wild and cultivated, which grows about three or four feet in height, and produces a strong fibre in the bark, which is prepared by the natives, and sold for the purpose of making ropes and cables. Another strong fibre is obtained from the bracts of a palm-tree cultivated on the hill-sides of Chusan, as well as in similar situations all over the province of Chekiang. These articles answer the purposes to which they are applied extremely well; but the rope made from the Manila hemp is of much greater strength and durability. From the bracts of this same palm the natives of the north make what they call a So-e, or garment of leaves, and a hat of the same material, which they put on during rainy weather; and although they look comical enough in the dress, still it is an excellent protection from wind and rain. In the south of China the So-e is made from the leaves of the bamboo and other broad-leaved grasses.
After the last crop of rice has been gathered in, the ground is immediately ploughed up and prepared to receive certain hardy green crops, such as clover, the oil plant, and other varieties of the cabbage tribe. The trefoil, or clover, is sown on ridges, to keep it above the level of the water, which often covers the valleys during the winter months. When I first went to Chusan, and saw this plant cultivated so extensively in the fields, I was at a loss to know the use to which it was applied, for the Chinese have few cattle to feed, and these are easily supplied from the road-sides and uncultivated parts of the hills. On inquiry I was informed that this crop was cultivated almost exclusively for manure. The large fresh leaves of the trefoil are also picked and used as a vegetable by the natives.
The oil plant, Brassica chinensis, is in seed and ready to be taken from the ground in the beginning of May. This plant is extensively grown in this part of China, both in the province of Chekiang and also in Kiangsoo, and there is a great demand for the oil which is pressed from its seeds. For the information of readers not acquainted with botany, I may state that this plant is a species of cabbage, producing flower stems three or four feet high, with yellow flowers, and long pods of seed like all the cabbage tribe. In April, when the fields are in bloom, the whole country seems tinged with gold, and the fragrance which fills the air, particularly after an April shower, is delightful.
The small ox-plough, and the celebrated water-wheel which is here worked by hand, are the two principal implements in husbandry; the plough seems a rude thing, but it answers the purpose remarkably well, and is probably better for the Chinese in their present state, with their oxen and buffaloes, than our more improved implement. An immense quantity of water is raised with great ease by the water-wheel, and is made to flow into the different rice flats with great rapidity. I have often stood for a considerable time looking on and admiring the simplicity and utility of this contrivance.
The flora of Chusan, and all over the main land in this part of the province of Chekiang, is very different from that of the south. Almost all the species of a tropical character have entirely disappeared, and in their places we find others related to those found in temperate climates in other parts of the world. I here met, for the first time, the beautiful Glycine sinensis wild on the hills, where it climbs among the hedges and on trees, and its flowering branches hang in graceful festoons by the sides of the narrow roads which lead over the mountains. The Ficus nitida, so common around all the houses and temples in the south, is here unknown; and many of those beautiful flowering genera which are only found on the tops of the mountains in the south, have here chosen less exalted situations. I allude more particularly to the Azaleas which abound on the hill-sides of this island. Most people have seen and admired the beautiful azaleas which are brought to the Chiswick fêtes, and which, as individual specimens, surpass in most instances those which grow and bloom on their native hills: but few can form any idea of the gorgeous and striking beauty of these azalea-clad mountains, where, on every side, as far as our vision extends, the eye rests on masses of flowers of dazzling brightness and surpassing beauty. Nor is it the azalea alone which claims our admiration; clematises, wild roses, honeysuckles, the Glycine, noticed above, and a hundred others, mingle their flowers with them, and make us confess that China is indeed the "central flowery land." There are several species of myrtaceous and ericaceous plants, which are also common on the hills, but no species of heath has ever been found, and I believe the genus does not exist in this part of the country.
The tallow tree (Stillingia sebifera) is abundant in the valleys of Chusan, and large quantities of tallow and oil are yearly extracted from its seeds: tallow mills are erected in several parts of the island for this purpose. The Laurus Camphora, or camphor tree, is also abundant, but no camphor is extracted or exported from the island. The green tea shrub (Thea viridis) is cultivated every where; but, if we except a small quantity which is annually sent over to the main land—to Ningpo and the adjacent towns,—the whole is used by the inhabitants themselves. Every small farmer and cottager has a few plants on his premises, which he rears with considerable care, but seems to have no wish to enter on its cultivation on a larger scale. Indeed it is questionable if it would answer, as the soil is scarcely rich enough; and, although the shrub grows pretty well, it is far from being so luxuriant as it is in the larger tea districts on the main land. The forests of different varieties of bamboo are very striking, and give a kind of tropical character to the Chusan scenery. I do not know any thing more beautiful than the yellow bamboo with its clean and straight stem, and graceful top and branches waving in the breeze: it always reminded me of our young larch forests at home. The fir tree, found in the south, is also common in this part of China: it seems to be an exception to a general rule, being met with all over the country, and in every degree of latitude. Here the Cunninghamia sinensis, another of the pine tribe, is also found in abundance: it is more rare in the south. Besides these there are several species of cypress and juniper, which are always found growing around the tombs of the wealthy, which are scattered over the valley and hill-sides.
In fruits Chusan is meagre indeed. All the peaches, grapes, pears, plums, oranges, &c., which are brought to the markets of Tinghae in the summer season, are from the main land. There are, however, two fruits cultivated on the island, which are of considerable excellence; the one is called Yang-mai: it is a scarlet fruit, not unlike an arbutus or strawberry, but having a stone like a plum in the centre; the other is the Kum-quat, a small species of Citrus, about the size of an oval gooseberry, with a sweet rind and sharp acid pulp. This fruit is well known in a preserved state by those who have any intercourse with Canton, and a small quantity is generally sent home as presents every year. Preserved in sugar, according to the Chinese method, it is excellent. Groves of the kum-quat are common on all the hill-sides of Chusan. The bush grows from three to six feet high, and, when covered with its orange-coloured fruit, is a very pretty object.
The islands of the Chusan Archipelago having every variety of elevation and soil, and a large proportion of the hills and ravines being in a state of nature[1], I found them not only rich in plants, but had also the satisfaction of meeting with several novelties of great interest.
The natives of Chusan are a quiet and inoffensive race, and were always civil and obliging to me. Like the vegetation of their hills, they are very different from their countrymen of the south, and the change, I am happy to say, is for the better and not for the worse. Doubtless there are thieves and bad characters amongst them; but these are comparatively few, and are kept in better check by the government, the result of which is, that unprotected property is in a great measure safe, and cases of theft are almost unknown. The people may be divided into three classes:—the countrymen or agricultural farmers and labourers, the shopkeepers in the towns, and the mandarins or officers of government. The trade of Tinghae and the other towns seems to consist chiefly in articles of food and clothing, and owing to the number of British soldiers who were there from the time of our taking possession of the island until it was again handed over to the Chinese, this trade was of course in a flourishing condition. Fruits and vegetables were brought in great quantities from the main land, fish were plentiful; good sheep were sold at about three dollars each, and the Chinese even got so far over their religious prejudices as to keep the market well supplied with bullocks, which were sold at prices varying from eight to twelve dollars. It was astonishing how quickly they got accustomed to our habits, and were able to supply all our wants. Bread baked in the English mode was soon exposed for sale in the shops[2], and even ready-made clothes were to be had in any quantity. The tailors flocked from all quarters: a large proportion of the shops near the beach were occupied by them, and they doubtless reaped a rich harvest, although they made and sold every article of dress on the most reasonable terms. Then there were curiosity shops without number, containing josses or gods carved in bamboo or stone, incense burners, old bronzes, animals of strange forms which only exist in the brains of the Chinese, and countless specimens of porcelain and pictures. Silk shops, too, were not wanting, and here were to be had beautiful pieces of manufactured silk, much cheaper and better than could be purchased in Canton. The embroidery in these shops was of the most elaborate and beautiful description, which must be seen before it can be appreciated; this the Chinese were making into articles, such as scarfs and aprons, for English ladies.
The shopkeepers in Tinghae supposed an English name indispensable to the respectability of their shops and the success of their trade, and it was quite amusing to walk up the streets and read the different names which they had adopted under the advice and instruction of the soldiers and sailors to whom they had applied on the subject. There were "Stultz, tailor, from London;" "Buckmaster, tailor to the army and navy;" "Dominic Dobbs, the grocer;" "Squire Sam, porcelain merchant;" and the number of tradesmen "to Her Majesty" was very great, among whom one was "Tailor to Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria and His Royal Highness Prince Albert, by appointment," and below the name was a single word, which I could not make out for some few seconds,—Uniformsofalldescriptions. Certificates from their customers were also in great request, and many of these were most laughable performances. The poor Chinese were never quite at their ease about these certificates, as they were so often hoaxed by the donors, and consequently were continually showing them to other customers and asking "what thing that paper talkie; can do, eh?" The answer was probably in this strain—"Oh, yes, Fokei, this can do, only a little alteration, more better." Poor Fokei runs and brings a pen, the little alteration is made, and it is needless to add that the thing is ten times more ridiculous than it was before.
Almost all the natives who come in contact with the English understand a little of the language; and as they have also a smattering of Portuguese, Malay, and Bengalese, they soon mix them up all together, and draw out of the whole a new tongue, which the most accomplished linguist would have very great difficulty in analysing. And, what is most amusing, they fancy all the time that this is capital English.
The way in which the Chinese classed the foreigners on the island was somewhat droll. There were three degrees of rank which they generally bestowed upon them,—Mandarins, or, as they pronounced it, Mandalees, Sien-sangs, and A-says. In the first class they included all persons of rank holding government situations, as well as the officers of the army and navy; the higher being styled "Bulla Bulla Mandalees," and the lower "Chotta Chotta Mandalees," corruptions of Hindostan words, signifying very large and very small. The merchants were honoured with the title of "Sien-sang" and the common soldiers, sailors, and the rest of the lower orders, were all classed under the head of A-says. The word Mandarin is not Chinese, but has always been used by the Portuguese at Macao, as well as by the English, to denote a Chinese government officer; Sien-sang is a Chinese term, and signifies master or teacher, being generally used by the people as a title of respect, in the same way as we commonly use our word Sir; but A-say is quite a new appellation. "I say," or "Ay say," is a very common expression amongst our soldiers and sailors; and when the northern towns were taken by us during the war, the Chinese continually heard our men shouting it out to each other, and naturally concluded that this was the name of the class to which the lower orders belonged. It was quite common to hear them asking each other whether such a one was a Mandarin, a Sien-sang, or an A-say.
Cutaneous diseases are less common amongst the natives here than amongst those in the south of China, probably owing to the more healthy nature of the climate. They are, however, dreadfully affected with diseases of the eye and ultimate blindness. This is, doubtless, caused in a great measure by the operations of the native barber, who, whenever he shaves the heads of his customers, also tickles their eyes and probes their ears, and the result is that they become both blind and deaf. The lashes of the eye, probably also from this cause, frequently grow inwards, and the hairs rubbing on the eyeball soon causes inflammation. Many of the poor natives were cured by my friend Dr. Maxwell, who, in the kindest and most philanthropic manner, set apart a portion of every day for the purpose. They flocked to him from all parts of the island, submitting cheerfully and without a murmur to operations of a most painful nature. Many most remarkable cures resulted from his skill, and his fame spread not only all over the island, but also to the main land—to Chinhae and Ningpo,—from whence numbers came and begged to be admitted on his lists of patients. One day, when I was out with the Doctor on a botanising expedition, as we were passing a small cottage at the foot of the hills a man and his wife rushed out, and begged us to enter their humble dwelling. We did so, chairs were set for us, tea was brought, and the worthy pair thanked the Doctor in the most feeling and grateful manner for his former kindness to them. The man had been nearly blind, and unable to work for his family, when, hearing of the wonderful English doctor, he came over to Chusan, and soon received his sight.
Many of the inhabitants of Chusan and the neighbouring islands gain their living by making salt on the shores. Large heaps of clay are scraped together in winter on the flats close by the sea; and when the weather becomes warm in summer, these heaps are spread out, and regularly watered with sea water several times a day, which quickly evaporates and leaves a highly saline mixture. When by this means the soil is completely saturated, the next operation is to make a filter. This the natives do by forming a round basin of clay and mud; in the bottom of this they put a quantity of straw or grass, and some charcoal or ashes on the top; they then surround the whole with another layer of mud, and place a quantity of the saline earth in the centre. Water is then regularly poured over this earth, and the particles of salt are carried down through the filter in a liquid state. A pipe made of bamboo, which had been placed below, leads the liquid into a well dug at the side, into which it comes clear, pure, and highly saline. This mixture is now carried off to pans, where it is boiled, until the whole of the water is evaporated. I cannot say whether the Chinese have any means of purifying the salt. In Chimoo Bay, the natives evaporate sea water with the aid of the sun alone, and do not saturate the soil as they do in Chusan; but there the sea water is perfectly clear. Amongst the Chusan group of islands the water is yellow and muddy, being rendered so by the large rivers which are pouring in their waters from the main land, and more particularly by the Yang-tse-kiang.
For the following account of the Chinese method of extracting the tallow from the seeds of the Stillingia sebifera I am indebted to Dr. Rawes, of the Madras army, who was some time resident in the island of Chusan:—
"The seeds are picked at the commencement of the cold weather, in November and December, when all the leaves have fallen from the trees,—this I saw at Singkong when out shooting in the Sah-hoo valley, close by our quarters through the village. The seeds are in the first place taken to the building where the process of making the tallow is carried on, and picked and separated from the stalks. They are then put into a wooden cylinder, open at the top, but with a perforated bottom. This is placed over an iron vessel (about the same diameter or rather larger than the wooden cylinder, and about six or eight inches deep) containing water, by which means the seeds are well steamed, for the purpose of softening the tallow and causing it more readily to separate. The furnace I saw had four or five iron vessels in a row, was about three feet high, four or five feet broad, and eight or ten feet long. The fire was placed at one end and fed with the husk of the rice, dry grass, and such like cheap materials which make a great flame, and the flue was of course carried directly under the whole of the iron vessels.
"When the seeds have steamed ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, they are thrown into a large stone mortar, and are gently beaten by two men with stone mallets for the purpose of detaching the tallow from the other parts of the seed. They are then thrown upon a sieve, heated over the fire, and sifted, by which process the tallow is separated, or nearly so, although they generally undergo the process of steaming &c. a second time that nothing may be lost. The other part of the seed is ground and pressed for oil.
"The tallow now resembles coarse linseed meal, but with more white spots in it, and derives its brown colour from the thin covering over the seed (between it and the tallow) which is separated by the pounding and sifting. In this state it is put between circles of twisted straw, five or six of which are laid upon each other, and thus forming a hollow cylinder for its reception. When this straw cylinder (we may call it so) has been filled, it is carried away and placed in the press, which is a very rude and simple contrivance, but which, like every thing Chinese, answers the purpose remarkably well. The press consists of longitudinal beams of considerable thickness, placed about a foot and a half, or two feet, asunder, with a thick plank at the bottom, forming a kind of trough, and the whole is bound together with iron. The tallow is pressed out by means of wedges driven in very tightly with stone mallets, and passes through a hole in the bottom of the press into a tub, which is sunk there to receive it. It is now freed from all impurities, and is a semifluid of a beautiful white colour, but soon gets solid, and in cold weather is very brittle. The inside of the tubs which collect the tallow are sprinkled or dusted over, with a fine red earth, well dried, which prevents the tallow from adhering to their sides. It is thus easily removed in a solid state from the tubs, and in this condition the cakes are exposed for sale in the market. As the candles made from this vegetable tallow have a tendency to get soft and to melt in hot weather, they are commonly dipped in wax of various colours, as red, green, and yellow. Those which are intended for religious purposes are generally very large, and finely ornamented with golden characters."
"The cake, or refuse, which remains after the tallow has been pressed out of it, is used for fuel, or to manure the land, and so is the refuse from the other part of the seeds from which oil is extracted."
One of the greatest Lions in Chusan is an old Chinaman, who every spring hatches thousands of ducks' eggs by artificial heat. His establishment is situated in the valley on the north side of the city of Tinghae, and is much resorted to by the officers of the troops and strangers who visit the island. The first question put to a sight-seer who comes here is, whether he has seen the hatching process, and if he has not, he is always recommended to pay a visit to the old Chinaman and his ducks.
When I set out upon this excursion for the first time, it was a beautiful morning in the end of May, just such a morning as we have in the same month in England, but perhaps a little warmer. The mist and vapour were rolling lazily along the sides of the hills which surround the plain on which the city of Tinghae is built; the Chinese, who are generally early risers, were already proceeding to their daily labours, and although the greater part of the labouring population are very poor, yet they seem contented and happy. Walking through the city, and out at the north gate, I passed through some rice fields, the first crop of which had been just planted, and a five minutes' walk brought me to the poor man's cottage. He received me with Chinese politeness; asked me to sit down, and offered me tea and his pipe, two things always at hand in a Chinese house, and perfectly indispensable. Having civilly declined his offer, I asked permission to examine his hatching house, to which he immediately led the way.
The Chinese cottages generally are wretched buildings of mud and stone, with damp earthen floors, scarcely fit for cattle to sleep in, and remind one of what Scottish cottages were a few years ago, but which now, happily, are among the things that were. My new friend's cottage was no exception to the general rule: bad fitting, loose, creaking doors, paper windows, dirty and torn; ducks, geese, fowls, dogs, and pigs in the house and at the doors, and apparently having equal rights with their masters. Then there were children, grand-children, and, for aught that I know, great-grand-children, all together, forming a most motley group, which, with their shaved heads, long tails, and strange costume, would have made a capital subject for the pencil of Cruikshank.
The hatching-house was built at the side of the cottage, and was a kind of long shed, with mud walls, and thickly-thatched with straw. Along the ends and down one side of the building are a number of round straw baskets, well plastered with mud, to prevent them from taking fire. In the bottom of each basket there is a tile placed, or rather the tile forms the bottom of the basket; upon this the fire acts,—a small fire-place being below each basket. Upon the top of the basket there is a straw cover, which fits closely, and which is kept shut whilst the process is going on. In the centre of the shed are a number of large shelves placed one above another, upon which the eggs are laid at a certain stage of the process.
When the eggs are brought, they are put into the baskets, the fire is lighted below them, and an uniform heat kept up, ranging, as nearly as I could ascertain by some observations which I made with a thermometer, from 95° to 102°, but the Chinamen regulate the heat by their own feelings, and therefore it will of course vary considerably. In four or five days after the eggs have been subject to this temperature, they are taken carefully out, one by one, to a door, in which a number of holes have been bored nearly the size of the eggs; they are then held against these holes, and the Chinamen look through them, and are able to tell whether they are good or not. If good, they are taken back, and replaced in their former quarters; if bad, they are of course excluded. In nine or ten days after this, that is, about fourteen days from the commencement, the eggs are taken from the baskets, and spread out on the shelves. Here no fire-heat is applied, but they are covered over with cotton, and a kind of blanket, under which they remain about fourteen days more, when the young ducks burst their shells, and the shed teems with life. These shelves are large, and capable of holding many thousands of eggs; and when the hatching takes place, the sight is not a little curious. The natives who rear the young ducks in the surrounding country know exactly the day when they will be ready for removal, and in two days after the shell is burst, the whole of the little creatures are sold, and conveyed to their new quarters.
[1] This description will scarcely agree with those writers who inform us that such is the persevering industry of the Chinese, that every inch of ground in China is under cultivation! "Facts, however, are stubborn things."
[2] A mode of baking and cooking in use here is ingenious. A large rice-pan is filled with water, with a fire below it: upon this is placed a kind of sieve, made of bamboo, and filled with bread or other articles to be cooked; several of these sieves one above another have all their contents cooked at the same time, the steam rising through the lower to the upper ones. The sides of course fit nicely, and prevent the steam from escaping, and there is a close cover which fits on to the uppermost one. Our common brick oven is also in use here.