The Critic in the Orient

by George Hamlin Fitch

North of the Shameen is the new western suburb of Canton, which has recently been completed on European lines. It has a handsome bund, finely paved, with substantial buildings facing the river. Close up against this bund, and extending down the river bank for at least two miles are ranged row on row of houseboats. Every few minutes a boat darts out from the mass and is pulled to one of the ships in the stream.

The City of Boats at Canton. This Floating City in the Pearl River Opposite Canton Contains 250,000 People, Many of Whom Never Venture On Land

Across the river and massed against the shore of Honam, the suburb opposite Canton, is another tangle of sampans, with thousands of active river folk, all shouting and screaming. These yellow thousands toiling from break of day to late at night do not seem human; yet each boat has its family life. The younger children are tied so that they cannot fall overboard, and the older ones wear ingenious floats which will buoy them up should they tumble into the water. Boys and girls four or five years old assist in the working of the boat, while girls of twelve or fourteen are experts in handling the oar and in using the long bamboo boat hook that serves to carry the small craft out of the tangle of river activity.

A type of river steamer which will amaze the American is an old stern-wheeler run by man power. It is provided with a treadmill just forward of the big stern wheel. Two or three tiers of naked, perspiring coolies are working this treadmill, all moving with the accuracy and precision of machinery. The irreverent foreigner calls these the "hotfoot" boats, and in the land where a coolie may be hired all day for forty cents Mexican or twenty cents in our coin this human power is far cheaper than soft coal at five dollars a ton. These boats carry freight and passengers and they move along at a lively pace.

After an hour spent in study of this strange river life I was fortunate enough to go ashore with an American missionary whose husband was connected with a large college across the river from Canton. She came aboard in a sampan to take ashore two ladies from Los Angeles. She invited me to accompany the party, and as she spoke Chinese fluently I was glad to accept her offer. We went ashore in a sampan and at once proceeded to visit the western suburb. This part of Canton has been built in recent years and is somewhat cleaner than the old town. It is separated from the Shameen by bridges which may be drawn up like an ancient portcullis. Here we at once plunged into the thick of native life. The streets, not over ten feet wide, were crowded with people.

We passed through streets devoted wholly to markets and restaurants, and the spectacle was enough to keep one from ever indulging hereafter in chop-suey. Here were tables spread with the intestines of various animals, pork in every form, chickens and ducks, roasted and covered with some preparation that made them look as though just varnished. Here were many strange vegetables and fruits, and here, hung against the wall, were row on row of dried rats. At a neighboring stall were several small, flat tubs, in which live fish swam about, waiting for a customer to order them knocked on the head. Then we passed into a street of curio shops, but the grill work in front was closed and behind could be seen the timid proprietors, who evidently did not mean to take any chances of having their stores looted by robbers. For three or four days the most valuable goods in all the Canton stores had been removed as rapidly as possible. Thousands of bales of silk and tons of rare curios were already safe in the foreign warehouses at the Shameen or had been carried down the river to Hongkong. Often we had to flatten ourselves against the sides of the street to give passage to chairs containing high-class Chinese and their families, followed by coolies bearing the most valuable of their possessions packed in cedar chests.

At an American hospital we were met by several young Englishmen connected with medical and Young Men's Christian Association work. They proposed a trip through the old walled city, but they refused to take the two ladies, as they said it would be dangerous in the excited condition of the people. So we set out, five in number. After a short walk we reached one of the gates of the walled city, only to find it closed and locked. A short walk brought us to a second gate, which was opened readily by the Chinese guards, armed with a new type of German army rifle. The walls of the old city were fully ten feet thick where we entered, and about twenty feet high, made of large slabs of granite.

Once inside the city walls a great surprise awaited us. Instead of crowded streets and the hum of trade were deserted streets, closed shops and absolute desolation. For blocks the only persons seen were soldiers and refugees making their way to the gates. In one fine residence quarter an occasional woman peered through the front gates; in other sections all the houses were closed and barred. Soon we reached the Buddhist temple, known as the Temple of Horrors. Around the central courtyard are grouped a series of booths, in each of which are wooden figures representing the torture of those who commit deadly sins. In one booth a victim is being sawed in two; in others poor wretches are being garroted, boiled in oil, broken on the wheel and subjected to many other ingenious tortures. At one end is an elaborate joss-house, with a great bronze bell near by. In normal conditions this temple is crowded, and true believers buy slips of prayers, which they throw into the booths to ward off ill luck.

The rush of refugees grew greater as we penetrated toward the heart of the city. On the main curio street the huge gilded signs hung as if in mockery above shops which had been stripped of all their treasures. Occasionally a restaurant remained open and these were crowded with chair coolies, who were waiting to be engaged by some merchant eager to escape from the city. Gone was all the life and bustle that my companions said made this the most remarkable street in Canton. It was like walking through a city of the dead, and it bore a striking resemblance to San Francisco's business district on the day of the great fire. At intervals we passed the yamens of magistrates, but the guards and attaches were enjoying a vacation, as no court proceedings were held. Progress became more and more difficult as the rush of refugees increased and returning chair coolies clamored for passageway. The latter had taken parties to the river boats and were coming back for more passengers. As it became evident that we could not see the normal life of the city, my companions finally urged that we return, as they feared the gates might be closed against us, so we retraced our way, this time taking the main street which led to the great south gate.

Not far from the gate we came on the scene of the blowing up of the Tartar general. Seven shops on both sides of the street were wrecked by the explosion. The heavy fronts were partly intact, but the interiors were a mass of brick and charred timbers, for fire followed the explosion. The general had waited several months to allow the political excitement that followed his appointment to subside. He felt safe in entering the city with a strong bodyguard, but not over one hundred yards from the gate a bomb was thrown which killed the general instantly, mangled a score of his retainers and killed over a dozen Chinese bystanders. The revolutionists tried to clear the street so that none of their own people should suffer, but they failed because of the curiosity of the crowd.