CHAP. XVII.
RETURN TO CHUSAN.—ITS SUPPOSED UNHEALTHINESS.—MORTALITY AMONGST THE QUEEN'S TROOPS WHEN FIRST STATIONED THERE.—SUBSEQUENT SALUBRITY.—ITS ADVANTAGES OVER HONG-KONG AS A BRITISH SETTLEMENT.—NEW PLANTS FOUND ON THE ISLAND.—NINGPO.—GARDENS OF THE MANDARINS.—MANNERS OF CHINESE LADIES.—SAIL FOR HONG-KONG.—TOMBS OF THE CHINESE.—SITUATIONS SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST.—SOOTHSAYERS EMPLOYED.—THEIR METHODS OF WORKING ON THE MINDS OF THE PEOPLE.—MR. LAY CONSULTED AS TO THE BEST SITE FOR A GRAVE.—INSCRIPTIONS ON THE TOMBS.—PERIODICAL VISITS TO THEM BY RELATIVES.—DIFFERENT MODES OF INTERMENT.—COFFINS EXPOSED IN THE FIELDS.—KEPT IN HOUSES.—TOMB NEAR SUNG-KIANG-FOO.—FAVOURITE FLOWERS FOR PLANTING ON THE GRAVES.
My first visit to Chusan in 1843 was during the autumn and winter, but in 1844 I had an opportunity of exploring this beautiful island, at intervals, from the commencement of spring, until the close of the season. At this time the first impression regarding the unhealthiness of the climate had been entirely removed, and the island was looked upon as the most healthy in the Chinese seas.
It will be recollected that when the island was first occupied by our troops, the mortality was so great that the place was pronounced by every one to be the most unhealthy in China. Many a brave soldier fell a victim to the malignant fever which prevailed at the time. No regiment suffered more than Her Majesty's 26th, the "Cameronians," who were encamped on a green hill which overlooked the city, and which certainly appeared to be the most healthy spot which could have been selected for the purpose. That place still bears the name of the "Cameronian Hill," and is now thickly strewed with the graves of our countrymen.
It soon became evident, that this great mortality proceeded from other causes than the paddy fields which surrounded the city of Tinghae. Invalids from Hong-kong and Amoy were sent here to recover their health; and the difference in the appearance of the troops stationed in Chusan, from those in Hong-kong, was most marked. Dr. Maxwell of the Madras army, who was a most excellent judge in such matters, has often expressed his opinion, that, with good medical skill and ordinary care, this beautiful island might have been rendered one of the most healthy stations for our troops in the East. Indeed, every one now seemed to regret that we had not secured Chusan as a part of the British dominions for the protection of our trade in China, instead of the barren and unhealthy island of Hong-kong; and some even went so far as to recommend that means should still be taken by our government to accomplish this desirable end. The time, however, for doing this had gone by, and I believe that every right-thinking person would have seen with regret any power exercised by a great and exalted nation like England to infringe a solemn treaty "which had been entered into with a nation so utterly powerless as the Chinese; and most assuredly nothing less than this—no negotiations or promises—would have induced the Chinese to give up an island like Chusan, which commands the central and most important parts of their empire. That we committed a blunder and made a bad bargain is quite certain, but having done so, we must abide by the consequences. Had we retained Chusan, it would not only have been a healthy place for our troops and merchants, but it would also have proved a safeguard to our trade in the north, which must ultimately become of greater importance than that at Canton. Moreover, we should have been in a central position as regards a large and important part of the world, which must sooner or later open its ports to our commerce. I allude of course to Japan and Corea, both of which are only a few days' sail from Chusan, and are still in a great measure sealed countries to Europeans. These regrets, however, are vain.
Chusan in spring is one of the most beautiful islands in the world. It reminds the Englishman of his own native land. In the mornings the grass sparkles with dew, the air is cool and refreshing, the birds are singing in every bush, and flowers are hanging in graceful festoons from the trees and hedges.
The new plants of the island, some of which I had discovered in the preceding autumn, I now saw in flower for the first time. Early in spring the hill sides were covered with a beautiful Daphne with lilac flowers (Daphne Fortuni Lindl.); Azalea ovata Lindl., certainly one of the finest and most distinct plants of this kind which I have introduced, also grows wild on the hills, and was in full bloom at this period. A fine new Buddlea (B. Bindleyana) had a most graceful appearance, as its long spikes of purple flowers hung in profusion from the hedges on the hill sides, often side by side with the well-known Glycine sinensis. Another plant, certainly one of the most beautiful shrubs of northern China, the Weigela rosea, was first discovered in the garden of a Chinese mandarin near the city of Tinghae on this island. This spring, it was loaded with its noble rose-coloured flowers, and was the admiration of all who saw it, both English and Chinese. I have great pleasure in saying that all these plants and many others, natives of Chusan, are now growing in our gardens in England.
Ningpo is about 40 miles west from Chusan, and is situated on the mainland. My visits to it at different times during this summer were attended with much less difficulty than in the preceding autumn. I was now beginning to speak a little Chinese, and was perfectly acquainted with the town, and the whole of the places where the different mandarins' gardens and nurseries were situated. The mandarins were particularly inquisitive at this time about every thing which related to the movements of the English, or other foreigners, who were likely to establish themselves at their port; and I soon perceived that, as we were able to keep up a conversation together in Chinese, my visits were very agreeable to them. The nurserymen, too, having found out that my money was as valuable to them as that which they received from their own countrymen, threw aside their shyness, and were all anxiety to sell me any plants I wanted.
The gardens of the mandarins were extremely gay, particularly during the early months of the year; and, what was of more importance to me, contained a number of new plants of great beauty and interest. On entering one of the gardens on a fine morning in May, I was struck with a mass of yellow flowers which completely covered a distant part of the wall. The colour was not a common yellow, but had something of buff in it, which gave the flowers a striking and uncommon appearance. I immediately ran up to the place, and, to my surprise and delight, found that it was a most beautiful new double yellow climbing rose. I have no doubt, from what I afterwards learned, that this rose is from the more northern districts of the empire, and will prove perfectly hardy in Europe. Another rose, which the Chinese call the "five coloured," was also found in one of these gardens at this time. It belongs to the section commonly called China roses in this country, but grows in a very strange and beautiful manner. Sometimes it produces self-coloured blooms—being either red or French white, and frequently having flowers of both on one plant at the same time—while at other times the flowers are striped with the two colours. This will also be as hardy as our common China rose. Glycine sinensis is often grown on a flat trellis in front of the summer-house, or forms a kind of portico, which affords a pleasing shade. Entwined with one of these trees, I found another variety, having very long racemes of pure white flowers, which contrasted well with the light blue of the other. I obtained permission from the old Chinese gentleman to whom it belonged (my old friend Dr. Chang) to make some layers of this fine plant, and I am happy to say that one of these is now alive in the garden at Chiswick.
The Horticultural Society having sent me out some small optical instruments to be given as presents, I presented some of them to the Doctor, with which he was much pleased, and offered in return to let me have whatever cuttings or plants from his garden I might wish to possess.
We are generally led to believe that ladies of rank in this country are never seen by visitors. It is quite true that Chinese custom, in this respect, differs entirely from ours; and that the females here, like those of most half civilised or barbarous nations, are kept in the back ground, and are not considered as on an equality with their husbands. For example, they do not sit at the same table; when a "sing-song" or theatrical performance is got up, they are put in a place out of view, where they can see all that is going on and yet remain unseen. But for all this they are not entirely secluded from society; at least they used frequently to honour me with their presence, and crowd round me with the greatest curiosity. At first they used to be extremely shy, and only took sly peeps at me from behind doors and through windows; by and by, however, their strong curiosity conquered their bashfulness, and then they used to stand and look on very composedly. They generally, however, kept at a little distance, and whenever a movement was made towards where they stood, they pretended to be vastly frightened, and ran away; but they soon came back again.
To Mr. Mackenzie, one of our merchants at Ningpo, and also to Mr. Thom, Her Majesty's consul, I was greatly indebted for their kindness and hospitality. They did every thing in their power to forward my views, and to both these gentlemen I take this opportunity of rendering my best thanks.
After having spent the summer in the districts of Ningpo, Chusan, and Shanghae, I returned to the last-mentioned place, where my plants were all collected, intending immediately to sail for Hong-kong, and send a portion of them home to England; but the exposure to the sun during the summer was now beginning to affect my health, and when I landed at Shanghae I was laid up with a severe attack of fever. Providentially this happened when I was amongst my English friends, and, as I had the means of procuring excellent medical advice, I recovered in the course of a fortnight, and was able to proceed to sea, where the change of air completed my cure. I reached Hong-kong in November, and forthwith made preparations for sending my collections home in several vessels, which were at anchor in the bay at this time.
During the summer which had now passed by, I had had frequent opportunities of inspecting the tombs of the Chinese both in the northern and southern districts. In the south, the natives form no regular cemeteries or churchyards, as we do in Europe, but the tombs of the dead are scattered all over the sides of the hills, the most pleasant situations being generally selected. The more wealthy individuals often convey their dead a considerable distance, and employ a kind of fortune-teller, whose duty it is to find out the most appropriate resting-place. This man goes with the corpse to the place appointed, and of course pretends to be very wise in the selection of the spot, as well as in the choice of the soil with which the ashes of the dead are to mingle in after years; and upon trial, should the particular earth appear unsuitable, he immediately orders the procession off to some other place in the neighbourhood, where he expects to be more successful. I believe many of the Chinese have this important point settled before they die; for one day when one of our principal merchants went to call on old Howqua, the late Hong merchant at Canton, a tray was brought into the room with several kinds of earth upon it, which the old man examined with great care, and then fixed on the one in which he wished to be buried.
A situation on the hill side is also considered of great importance, especially if it commands a view of a beautiful bay or lake. But I believe that of all places the one most coveted is where a winding stream, in its course, passes and then returns again to the foot of the hill where the grave is to be made. The director of the ceremonies, with a compass in his hand, settles the direction in which the body is to lie, which is another point of great importance. An intelligent Chinese, with whom I was acquainted, informed me that this fortune-teller of the dead is often very eloquent in his descriptions of the future happiness of those who obey his directions; he informs them that they or their children, or some one in whom they are much interested, shall enjoy riches and honours in after life, as a reward for the attention and respect they have paid to the remains of their fathers; that as the stream which they then behold when standing around their father's grave flows and returns again in its windings, so shall their path through life be smooth and pleasant until they sink into the tomb hoary with years, respected, beloved, and mourned by their children.
These men are generally great rogues, and play upon the prejudices of the people. It frequently happens, that after a corpse has been interred for some time, they call upon the relatives, and inform them, that for some cause which they affect to explain, it is absolutely necessary to remove and re-inter it. Should the relations object to this, the answer is, "Very well, I don't care, but your children and relations will also be regardless of your remains when you die, and you will be miserable in your graves." The feelings of the poor deluded people are thus wrought upon, and a further sum of money is extracted for finding a more suitable grave.
The late Mr. Lay, during one of his rambles amongst the hills on the banks of the river Min, was present at one of these ceremonies, and the relatives of the deceased crowded round him and consulted him as to the site of the grave, under the impression that he was well versed in such matters. He remarks in his journal, that "much good or much evil is thought to betide the survivors from a right or wrong position. Keangse practitioners in this 'te-le' and 'fung shwuy,' or soothsaying from the influence of the earth's local modalities, get large moneys by the trade; but as they do not agree amongst themselves, the people are fain to ask counsel of a stranger."
In my travels in the south of China I often came upon graves in the most retired places amongst the hills; they were all more or less of the same form, namely, a half circle cut out of the hill side, having the body interred behind it. Sometimes, indeed generally, there were several of these half-circles with a succession of terraces in front of the grave; and in the burying-places of the more wealthy, the semi-circles were built of brick or stone, and on a more extensive scale. In the centre of the semi-circle, and of course near the body, the grave stone is placed with its inscription. M. Callery, an excellent Chinese scholar, informed me that these inscriptions are always of the most simple kind, merely stating the name of the deceased, that he died in such a dynasty, in such a year. This is the plain and unflattering tale which the Chinese tombstone tells. In some instances—I cannot tell if in all—after the body has decayed, the bones are dug up, and carefully put into earthenware vessels, which are then placed on the hill side above ground. These, as well as the graves, are visited at stated times by the relatives. They go first to the grave of the patriarch, or father of the tribe, and then to those of the other members of the family in rotation, where they perform their devotions, and offer incense. They afterwards dine together when the ceremonies are over.
I was once or twice in the wild mountain districts in the interior, at the time when the natives visited the tombs. Even the most retired parts had their visitors, and it was both pleasing and affecting to see the little groups assembled round the graves, paying the tribute of affection to those whose memory they revered and loved. The widow was seen kneeling by the grave of her lost husband; children, often very young, shedding tears of sorrow for a father or mother; and, sometimes, an old man whose hair was white with age, was there mourning the loss of those whom he had looked to as the support of his declining years. All were cutting the long grass and weeds which were growing round the tombs, and planting their favourite flowers to bloom and to decorate them.
Near Amoy, this scattered mode of interring the dead has been departed from, and perhaps necessarily, in consequence of the large population; in the country, however, I sometimes found tombs in retired and inaccessible parts of the hills here, as well as in the more southern provinces; but these were evidently the property of the wealthy inhabitants.
As the traveller proceeds northward, the circular form of the tombs is less common and they become more varied in their appearance. In Chusan, Ningpo, and various other places in that district, a great number of the coffins are placed on the surface of the ground and merely thatched over with straw. I met with these coffins in all sorts of places,—on the sides of the public highway—on the banks of the rivers and canals—and in woods and other retired parts of the country. Sometimes the thatch was completely off, the wood rotten, and the remains of the Chinamen of former days exposed to view. On one hill side on the island of Chusan, skulls and bones are lying about in all directions, and more than once when wandering through the long brushwood in this place, I have been entangled by getting my feet through the lid of a coffin.
Tombs on the Island of Chusan.
I believe that the wealthy in these districts generally bury their dead, and some of them build very chaste and beautiful tombs. There are three or four very fine ones in the island of Chusan, where the paving in front of the mound which contains the body is beautiful, and the carving elaborate; the whole of the stone-work is square, instead of circular as in the tombs in the south of China. Here, as at home—and I believe in every part of the world—trees of the pine tribe are generally planted in the burying-grounds. Lord Jocelyn, in his "Campaign in China," mentions such places in the following beautiful and appropriate language:—"Here and there, as if dropped at random upon the sides of the hills, were clumps of pine trees, and peeping through their thick foliage, the roofs of houses and temples diversified the scene. Amongst many of the beautiful groves of trees which here invite the wanderer to repose, spots are selected as the resting-places of mortality; and gazing on those tranquil scenes, where the sweet clematis and fragrant flowers help to decorate the last home of man, the most careless eye cannot fail to mark the beauties of the grave."
In the Shanghae district I have frequently visited large houses which seem to have been built by the rich expressly as mausoleums. In these houses I generally found a coffin in one of the principal rooms, and an altar, with all the trappings of idolatry, where incense on high days is burned to the memory of the deceased, and various other ceremonies are gone through by the relatives. These houses or temples are generally surrounded by a pine wood, and sometimes the body is buried out of doors—the altar and records only being kept in the temple, where a servant with his family is always placed to look after them.
When the English first established themselves at Shanghae, some of them had thoughts of taking houses in the country that their families might enjoy retirement and fresh air. One day towards the end of 1843, I accompanied a gentleman of my acquaintance on an errand of this kind. When we had proceeded about six or eight miles from Shanghae, we observed a good-looking house in a wood hard by, and determined to pay it a visit and see whether the occupant would be inclined to let it. As we drew near, all was still and quiet; not even our old enemies, the dogs, appeared to dispute our approach. When the Chinese,—who always followed us in considerable numbers wherever we went—saw us approaching the house, they stood still at a little distance, watching our proceedings with a great degree of interest. We knocked at the door of the mansion, and then stood at one side so that the porter might not see that his visitors were the Hong-mou-jins, or red-haired race, as they are pleased to call the English; for we well knew that if we were seen, the door would not be opened. In a few seconds we heard the sounds of feet, and then a voice summoned us to know our business. We mumbled something in Chinese, and the poor man, quite unconscious of his danger, threw open the door. I shall never forget the look of mingled fear and astonishment which he gave us as we quietly walked into the court; at the same time the group of natives outside were indulging in hearty laughter at the way in which he had been entrapped.
The court-yard, where we now were, was neatly paved, and the whole of the house appeared to be in excellent repair. As we were led from room to room by our terrified guide, every thing appeared quite suitable for a country residence, at least, as good as one could expect in such an out-of-the-way place, and my friend remarked that it was the best he had yet seen, and that he should certainly make an effort to get possession of it. At last we came to what appeared the principal room: "Ah, this shall be my drawing-room," said my companion, "but what is that?" added he in the same breath. I looked in the direction in which he pointed, and a large massive coffin met my eye. We then discovered that we were in one of those places set apart for the remains of the dead.
During one of my journeys in the interior, I met with a very curious tomb near the town of Sung-kiang-foo. It was placed on the side of a hill, in a wood, and evidently belonged to some very wealthy or important personage of that city. From the base of the hill to where the tomb stood about halfway up—the visitor ascended by abroad flight of steps, on each side of which were placed a number of figures carved in stone. As far as I can recollect, the following was the order in which the figures were placed; first, a pair of goats or sheep, one on each side; second, two dogs; third, two cats; fourth, two horses saddled and bridled; and fifth, two most gigantic priests; the effect of the whole being most strange and imposing. There is another tomb of the same description near Ningpo, but on a much smaller scale.
The flowers which the Chinese plant on or among the tombs are simple and beautiful in their kind. No expensive camellias, moutans, or other of the finer ornaments of the garden are chosen for this purpose. Sometimes the conical mound of earth,—when the grave is of this kind,—is crowned with a large plant of fine, tall, waving grass; at Ningpo wild roses are planted, which soon spread themselves over the grave, and, when their flowers expand in spring, cover it with a sheet of pure white. At Shanghae a pretty bulbous plant, a species of Lycoris, covers the graves in autumn with masses of brilliant purple. When I first discovered the Anemone Japonica, it was in full flower amongst the graves of the natives, which are round the ramparts of Shanghae; it blooms in November, when other flowers have gone by, and is a most appropriate ornament to the last resting-places of the dead.
The poor, as well as the rich, often keep their dead in their dwelling-houses for a long time; I should imagine, from the numerous coffins which I met with in such circumstances, that many are thus kept for years. The coffins are remarkably thick and strong, and the joints so carefully cemented that no unpleasant smell is emitted during the decay of the body.
Much of the respect which is paid by the Chinese to the memory of their deceased relatives, may doubtless be a mere matter of form, sanctioned and rendered necessary by the custom of ages, but I am inclined to think that a considerable portion springs from a higher and purer source, and I have no doubt that when the Chinese periodically visit the tombs of their fathers to worship and pay respect to their memory, they indulge in the pleasing reflection, that when they themselves are no more, their graves will not be neglected or forgotten—but will also be visited by their children and grand-children, in whose hearts and affections they will live for many, many years after their bodies have mouldered into dust.
Tomb of a Mandarin's Wife.