The globular form of the cranium, and the orbicular shape of the face are peculiarly characteristic of the Cochin Chinese. The head projects more backwards than in the Siamese; it is smaller and more symmetrical, in regard to the body, than in the tribes already noticed, and the transverse diameters both of the occiput and sinciput are very nearly equal. The forehead is short and small, the cheeks round, the lower part of the face broad. The whole countenance is in fact very nearly round, and this is more particularly striking in women, who are reckoned beautiful in proportion as they approach this form of face. The eyes are small, dark, and round. They want the tumid, incumbent eyelid of the Chinese, and hence they derive a sprightliness of aspect unknown to the latter. The nose is small, but well formed. The mouth is remarkably large, the lips are prominent but not thick. The beard is remarkably scanty, yet they cultivate it with the greatest care. There are amongst them those who can number scarce one dozen of hairs upon the chin, or on the whole of the lower jaw. That on the upper lip is somewhat more abundant. The neck is for the most part short. Before quitting this part of the subject, I may remark that there is in the form of the head a degree of beauty, and in the expression of the countenance a degree of harmony, sprightliness, intelligence, and good-humour, which we should look for in vain either in the Chinese or Siamese.
The shape of the body and limbs in the Cochin Chinese, differs but little from that of the tribes already noticed. The chest is short, large, and well expanded; the loins broad; the upper extremities are long, but well formed; the lower are short, and remarkably stout. There is this remarkable difference from the others of the same race, that here the tendency to obesity is of rare occurrence. The limbs, though large, are not swollen with fat. The muscular system is large and well developed, and the leg in particular is almost always large and well formed. The Cochin Chinese, though a laughing, are not a fat, people.
The costume of the Cochin Chinese may be described in a few words. The subject is more deserving of attention, in that it also presents them to us in a peculiar light different from that under which their neighbours appear. Though living not only in a mild, but warm climate, the partiality for dress is universal. There is no one, however mean, but is clothed at least from the head to the knee, and if their dress is not always of the smartest, it is owing more to their poverty than to their want of taste. Nor is it comfort or convenience alone that they study. They are not above the vanity of valuing themselves on the smartness of their dress, a failing which often leads them into extravagance. You will often see a well-dressed man without a single quhan in his possession.
The principal and most expensive article in their dress is the turban. That of the men is made of black crape, of the women of blue. On occasions of mourning, it is made of white crape.
A loose jacket, somewhat resembling a large shirt, but with wide sleeves, reaching nearly to the knee, and buttoning on the right side, constitutes the principal covering of the body. Two of these, the under one of white silk, are generally worn, and they increase the number according to their circumstances and the state of the weather. Women wear a dress but little different from this, though lighter, and both wear a pair of wide pantaloons, of various colours. The dress of the poorer class is made of coarse cotton, but this is not very common, coarse silks being more in vogue. Those of China and Tonquin are worn by the more opulent classes. Shoes also are worn only by the wealthy, and are of Chinese manufacture, clogs, in fact, rather than shoes.
After this account of the physical exterior of the Cochin Chinese, I shall add a few words respecting their moral character. Any account of a matter so intricate, must, on so short an acquaintance, be necessarily imperfect. The subject, in its different bearings, is besides so extensive, that I can at most but hint at a few points.
Of these the most important and most remarkable is religion. The nation may, in fact, be said to be without any religion whatever. They have neither religious instruction nor instructors, priests, nor any body of men, whose function is to encourage its cultivation, or by their conduct to set an example to the great body of the people. Every man is free to act in this matter as he thinks fit. The better sort affect to follow the precepts of Confucius. The theism of the Chinese is as cold-hearted and unaccompanied by feeling, as it is crude, undefined, and uncertain in its principles. It appears to have no effect whatever on their conduct, nor do they entertain any intelligible notions on the subject. It would appear to be fashionable to profess it; but they neither talk of it, nor have any means of knowing what fashion perhaps alone induces them to profess.
The human mind, under every condition of life, has formed to itself certain notions of a future state. The untutored mind, led away by its fears, soon becomes involved in the intricate mazes of superstition, in which the mind too often paints undefined, unreal terrors. Such is the case with the Cochin Chinese, whose religion, if it is ever thought of, consists in the ceremony of placing on a rude altar some bits of meat and a few straws covered with the dust of scented wood, or in scattering to the winds a few scraps of paper covered with gold foil; or in sticking a piece of writing on a post or door, or to a tree. You inquire in vain for the motives of such acts. The objects of their fear are as numerous as they are hideous. One form of superstition is observed by sea-faring people, another by those who live upon the coast, and a different form by those inhabiting agricultural districts.
Thus, if not absolutely without religion, the Cochin Chinese can scarcely be said to derive moral feeling from this source. It may, perhaps, with truth be observed, that it is better that a people should have no religion than a false one. The nation in question will furnish an argument in favour of this opinion. It might be supposed that the first, the necessary consequence of the want of religion, would be a total disregard of right and wrong: this, however, is not the case, for in many respects the Cochin Chinese are superior to their neighbours, who are devoted to their national religion. If they are destitute of that aid which is derived from true religion, they are likewise free from the degrading trammels of a false one. A more direct engine than that of religion itself, has modified, if not formed, the moral character of the people; it is that of an avaricious, illiberal, and despotic government, the effect of which, so sedulously pursued through a course of ages, it is melancholy and revolting to human nature to contemplate. It has involved the whole body of the people in perpetual and insurmountable poverty; it has debased the mind; it has destroyed every generous feeling; it has crushed in the bud the early aspirations of genius; it has cast a blasting influence over every attempt at improvement. Such being the character of the government, it will not appear surprising that the moral character of the people should in many respects be brutalized. What is defective in their character has been occasioned by perpetual slavery and oppression; yet notwithstanding all this, they display traits of moral feeling, ingenuity, and acuteness, which, under a liberal government, would seem capable of raising them to an elevated rank amongst nations. But they are perpetually reminded of the slavery under which they exist; the bamboo is perpetually at work, and every petty, paltry officer, every wretch who can claim precedence over another, is at liberty to inflict lashes on those under him. But the tameness with which they submit to this degrading discipline, alike applicable to the people as to the military, is the most extraordinary circumstance. Their obedience is unlimited, nor do they, by word or by action, manifest the slightest resistance to the arbitrary decisions of their tyrants. It will not appear surprising that this system should render them cunning, timid, deceitful, and regardless of truth; that it should make them conceited, impudent, clamorous, assuming, and tyrannical, where they imagine they can be so with impunity. Their clamorous boldness is easily seen through, and the least opposition or firmness reduces them to the meanest degree of submission and fawning.
Such are the more revolting traits in their character: they are in a great measure counter balanced by a large share of others that are of a more amiable stamp. They are mild, gentle and inoffensive in their character, beyond most nations. Though addicted to theft, the crime of murder is almost unknown amongst them. To strangers, they are affable, kind, and attentive; and in their conduct they display a degree of genuine politeness and urbanity quite unknown to the bulk of the people in other parts of India[25]. They are besides lively and good-humoured, playful, and obliging. Towards each other, their conduct is mild and unassuming, but the omission of accustomed forms or ceremonies, the commission of the slightest fault, imaginary or real, is followed by immediate punishment. The bamboo is the universal antidote against all their failings. Like the Chinese, this nation is addicted to the worship of ancestors, and reveres the memory of relations. This may, in fact, be considered as the only trait of religion that exists amongst them. Whatever may have been its origin, whether, like most institutions of a similar nature, it has degenerated into a set and formal ceremony that touches not the heart, we ought perhaps to consider it as of an amiable nature. The political aim of the institution, the only one of the kind in which the government takes a part, inculcating it strongly upon the minds of the people, is not be overlooked. It is that of preventing its subjects from going abroad, and thereby contributing to retain them in a state of ignorance and slavery.