As I Remember / Recollections of American Society during the Nineteenth Century

by Marian Gouverneur

Next door to the U.S. Consulate lived a Parsee named Botelwalla, who was an English subject. He never uncovered his head, and his tarpaulin hat carried me back to the pictures in my geography while studying at Miss Forbes's school. He was extensively engaged in the opium trade, and had large quantities of it stored in his dwelling. One day he came to our home to make a social visit and, taking it for granted that he was a fire-worshiper, I inquired whether he came from Persia. He told me that twelve hundred years ago his family emigrated from that country to India, where their descendants had since resided. I recall an incident which convinced me at the time that he was not a consistent follower of his own religion. Mr. Gouverneur noticed smoke issuing one day from what he thought was a remote portion of the Botelwalla home, and immediately called out to the Parsee from an adjoining window that his house was on fire. Without a moment's hesitation, he got all of his family together, and for a while they worked most strenuously to subdue the flames and to save from destruction the hundred thousand dollars' worth of opium lodged in the Parsee's home. Somewhat later we were surprised to learn that it was our own kitchen which was on fire. Our ignorance was due to the fact that the walls of the two houses were so irregular and so oddly constructed that it was at first exceedingly difficult, upon a superficial view, to distinguish certain portions of our own home from those of our neighbor. The one feature, however, connected with the fire which impressed us most forcibly was the fact that Botelwalla, our neighbor and fire-worshiper, did not allow his religious scruples to interfere with the safety of his valuable personal possessions. My attention, as well as admiration, was frequently directed to a number of superb India cashmere shawls which I often saw airing on his upper veranda and which, I think, were used for bed coverings.

Soon after his arrival in Foo Chow, Mr. Gouverneur was fortunate in securing the services of a Chinese interpreter named Ling Kein, a mandarin of high order, who wore the "blue button," significant of his rank. In addition to this distinction he wore on his hat the peacock feather, an official reward of merit. He was a Chinese of remarkable intelligence, well versed in English as well as in the Chinese vernacular, and was also the master of several dialects. He surprised me by his familiarity with New York, and upon inquiry I learned that he had once taken a junk into that port, which was naturally regarded with great curiosity by the Gothamites. He remembered many prominent New Yorkers, one of whom was Daniel Lord, the distinguished lawyer, whom he had met in a professional relation. He also recalled my old friend and Mr. Gouverneur's kinsman, William Kemble, who lived next door to Mr. Lord opposite St. John's Park. Ling Kein and his family lived in our house, but they led such secluded lives that I seldom saw them; indeed, we never laid eyes upon our interpreter except when his presence was required. He was not in the employ of our government, but his salary of one hundred dollars a month was paid from my husband's private means. His services were invaluable and when we first began housekeeping he secured our domestic staff for us. The butler was Ning Ping, a Christianized Chinese, who took entire charge of the establishment—going to market, regulating the servants and even handing them their wages. For his services he received four dollars a month.

I found this mode of life ideally pleasant and easy until I heard an uproar one day in the servants' quarters in which my two nurses seemed to be involved. I was entirely ignorant as to the cause of the commotion and for some time held my peace, as one of the first lessons I learned in China was not to probe too deeply into domestic affairs, since one derived but little satisfaction from the attempt. As the confusion continued, however, I summoned Ling Kein in order to ascertain the cause of it. It seems that Ning Ping had paid the women their wages in Mexican dollars which were not of the proper weight. There prevailed a crafty method of clipping or punching the coins, and this dishonest Chinaman had taken advantage of those whom he thought to be simply unsophisticated women. The trouble was finally quelled by an agreement that in future I should personally pay the nurses their wages. I gave each of these women four dollars a month for their services. Our cook, Ting Ting, who was a chef, and the four coolies, who were the chair bearers, were also paid four dollars a month each. The gatekeeper, whose duties were to open and close the front gate and to look after the chairs of visitors, received a similar sum for his services. I also employed by the month a native tailor, whose sole requirements for his work were a chair and a table. He did the entire sewing of the establishment and charged four dollars a month for his labor. At least one of my experiences with him failed to confirm the extraordinary powers of imitation possessed by the Chinese, for upon one occasion when I trusted him with a handsome garment, with strict injunctions to follow the model I gave him, he completely ignored my instructions and carried out his own designs.

Fortunately for us, this retinue of retainers provided its own food and clothing, and I was in blissful ignorance as to where they stowed themselves away for the night. A laundryman called once a week for our clothes and his charges were two dollars a hundred for articles of every description. I am almost ashamed to acknowledge that I never saw the interior of our kitchen, but our cook served our dinners in the most approved manner. We frequently had guests to dine with us and as the butler, Ning Ping, was as much an expert in his department as the cook, Ting Ting, was in his, I was delightfully irresponsible and often wondered, as I sat at my own table, what the next course would be. Our guests were principally men, usually the senior members of Hongs and officers of war-ships lying in the harbor, and it was the custom of each to bring with him his "boy," who stood behind him throughout the repast.

There was quite a number of missionaries in the city, and each religious denomination provided its ministers with comfortable quarters. The Baptists were especially well represented and also the "American Board," which was established in Boston in 1812. The English residents had a small chapel of their own which was well sustained by them. There was one missionary who commanded my especial respect and admiration. I refer to the Rev. Mr. William C. Burns, a Scotch Presbyterian clergyman. He led a life of consecrated self-denial, living exclusively with the natives and dressing in the Chinese garb which, with his Caucasian features and blond complexion, caused him to present the drollest appearance. Only those who have resided in China can understand the repugnance with which anyone accustomed to the amenities of refined society would naturally regard such a life. He gave up body and soul to the spread of Christianity in a heathen land, recalling to my mind the early Jesuits, Francis Xavier, Lucas Caballero and Cipriano Baraza, who penetrated pathless forests and crossed unknown seas in conformity with the requirements of their sacred mission. Mr. Burns died in China in the earnest pursuit of his vocation. I own a copy of his life published in New York in 1870, soon after his death.

The Roman Catholic Church was well represented in Foo Chow and was under the general direction of the order of the Dominicans. Each portion of China, in fact, even the most remote, was under the jurisdiction of some Roman Catholic Order, so that directly or indirectly almost every Chinaman in the Empire was reached. The Catholics also had a large orphan asylum in Foo Chow, over whose portals, in Chinese characters, was the verse from the Psalms: "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." Nothing brought back to me my far-away Western home more pleasantly than the tones of the Angelus sounding from the belfry of this institution.

There was a native orphan asylum in Foo Chow, not far from the American Consulate—a fact I have never seen stated in any of the numerous books I have read relating to the "Middle Kingdom." With true Chinese insight, the largest salary was paid the nurse who successfully reared the greatest number of babies. When I lived in China, the laws for the prevention of infanticide were as stringent as our own, but they were often successfully evaded. Poverty was so grinding in the East that the slaughter of children was one of its most pitiable consequences. Infants were made way with at birth, before they were regarded with the eye of affection.

Fifty years ago slavery was prevalent among the Chinese, and one of its saddest features consisted in the fact that its victims were of their own race and color. Poverty-stricken parents sold their offspring to brokers, and in Foo Chow it was recognized as a legitimate business. Theoretically there were no slaves in Hong-Kong, which is British territory, but in reality the city was full of them. Both men and women slave-brokers infested the large cities of China, and boys and girls between the ages of ten and twelve were sent from all the neighboring villages to be sold in Foo Chow. The girls were purchased to be employed as servants, and sometimes parents would buy them for the purpose of training them until they reached the proper age and of then marrying them off to their sons. In this way, as may readily be seen, some of the young people of China were spared the vicissitudes and discouragements of courtship so keenly realized in some other countries. I have seen girl slaves sold with no other property except the clothes upon their backs. Frequently their garments were of the scantiest character and in some cases even these were claimed by the avaricious brokers. Many of the waifs were purchased upon trial as a precaution against leprosy which prevailed throughout the East. One of the tests consisted in placing the child in a dark room under a blue light; if the skin was found to be of a greenish hue, the slave passed muster; but, on the other hand, if it was of a reddish tinge it indicated the early stages of this fatal malady. Babies were not much in demand in Foo Chow and did not even command the price of fresh pork! I learned at an orphan asylum in Shanghai that they were purchased at twenty cents each. This institution was conducted by missionaries who taught the girls all kinds of domestic duties and, when they arrived at proper ages, saw that they were given to suitable men for wives.

Not far from the Consulate were the quarters of the Tartars. They seemed to live very much to themselves, and most of the men were connected with the military service of the country. It may not be generally known that ever since the commencement of the Tartar dynasty, between two and three centuries ago, the queue has been worn by the Chinese as a badge of submission to the Tartars. The feet of the women were not compressed by these early rulers and consequently the Court did not set the fashion as in European countries. I understand that even now the bandaged feet are universal.

In those days there were no railroads or telegraphs in China. The Emperor died while we were living in Foo Chow and the news did not reach us until several weeks after the event, and then only through the medium of a courier. The official announcement came to the Consulate upon a long yellow card bearing certain Chinese characters. All of the mandarins in our city, upon receiving the intelligence, gathered at the various temples to bewail in loud tones and with tearful eyes the death of their ruler.