This singular want of advance beyond a certain point, together with many peculiarities in the industrial condition of the Chinese, combine to render a notice of this curious people indispensable to the present article.
“Time,” says the writer in the “Encyclopædia Britannica,” “may be said to stand still in China.” Half-burnt bricks, mud, clay, and wood still continue to be the ordinary materials of their architecture, as they were three thousand years ago. The case is precisely the same with the minor points of dress and fashion. There a young lady may safely wear the head-dress of her great grandmother, without the imputation of being singular or old-fashioned.
Their buildings are singularly monotonous in form and plan—the thatched hut of the meanest peasant, with its walls of mud, is scarcely lower in point of design than the palace of the viceroy. Their houses are low, furnished with overhanging roofs, uninterrupted by a single chimney; their windows are fitted with poor substitutes for glass, in the shape of oiled paper, gauze, or a transparent shell; the houses of a town are crowded together, and with the flag-staffs and ornamental streamers produce quite a camp-like effect. But the gaudy decoration of their shops—the brilliancy of their painted lanterns—the bustle and confusion of traffic, and the hilarity of the motley crowd would soon undeceive the spectator, and convince him that he is anywhere but in the seat of war. The domestic furniture—the couches, the stoves, the china vessels, the painted fans, and cabinets, and the beautiful materials for dress—bespeak a great deal of comfort, though they may display but little taste. Four points are said to be peculiarly characteristic of the Chinese, as compared with other Oriental nations—“they sit on chairs, eat off tables, burn wax candles, and cover the whole body with clothing.” But many others place them in a position enviable when compared with that of their neighbors. The internal communication in their country is admirably provided for by the numerous canals which everywhere intersect the whole empire, and unite their large navigable rivers into one vast network for traffic. These canals are crowded by barges, varying with the size and depth of the channel; some of them worked by paddle-wheels, moved by machinery, and well fitted up for the conveyance of passengers or goods. In fact, traveling in China is quite luxurious, though not very speedy. The voyager makes a home of his boat for the time being, and lives as comfortably as in his own house. There is but little road-traveling or land-carriage in the Celestial Empire.
The Chinese, with all their defects, contrive to produce some articles superior to the counterparts of European manufacture. Their vermilion, prepared from the same cinnabar which we ourselves employ, is far brighter than ours; the blue colors on their china are more perfect; while, in the ingenious carving of ivory into fans, pagodas, or nested balls, no other artists can vie with them. Their large horn lanterns are inimitable; their gongs cannot be made in Europe, though we know the metal; their silver filagree work, lacquered cabinets, engraved stones and gems, are all works of great skill. In the productions of the loom they are scarcely equalled by French manufacturers; their silks, satins, embroidery and tassels are unsurpassed; while in the variety of their spices and perfumes, and the excellence of their paper, ink and printing, they may challenge the world. And yet the old customs of primitive times—the domestic weaving and dyeing, still continue the same as in those days when the beautiful tissues found their way into Greek and Roman houses. But, while praising the excellence of their works, we only allude to the finished product—the process is generally primitive, the tools are simple, and the artificer almost unassisted by machinery.
Their agriculture has been over-praised—their plows hardly merit the name—they have no succession of crops—simple rice is the staff of life, and their only claim to superior merit appears to be in the general practice of irrigation. The white mulberry-tree is grown in vast quantities to supply the silk-worm with food, and in the middle provinces large fields of cotton and patches of indigo are frequent. The tea-plant is cultivated extensively, only in particular provinces, but grows every where in gardens and inclosures. The leaves are gathered from the middle of April to the middle of May, and are exposed to heat in iron pans. A high temperature produces the black-teas; while the leaves exposed to less heat form the green teas. The berry of the tea-plant affords a fine oil for the table. Tobacco is in universal cultivation and use.
A curious feature in the Chinese character is visible in their import trade. So rigidly exclusive are they, that nearly all foreign produce must be imported in Chinese ships; and further, the great bulk of such imports is collected by colonies of Chinese, who reside in the countries furnishing the supply, and retain their utter isolation even in the midst of foreigners. These imports are considerable, and some of them curious. They are thus enumerated: “From Java alone they import birds’ nests to the value of half a million dollars annually; the sea-slug (Holothuria) from the coast of New Holland, Timor, and adjoining islands, to a still greater extent; sharks’ fins from the same quarter; copper from Japan, and tin from Bantam; pepper, areca-nut, spices of different kinds, ebony, sandal-wood, red-wood for dyeing, tortoise-shell, pearl-shell, coral, camphor, wax, and a variety of articles generally produced or collected by their own countrymen resident in the islands of the East.”[[19]]
In returning homeward from the distant regions of the Celestial Empire, could we but pause for a short time to survey the vast continent of Hindûstan, we should find ample materials for description and comment. We should behold a country destined by the bountiful gifts of nature to be the inexhaustible source of wealth and luxury through all time, yet still itself in the infancy of development. We should see again the characteristic Eastern skill and patience, which, without the aid of machinery and the mighty assistance of the division of labor, can rival, in the beauty of their products, the most finished works of European art. And we should look forward with hope and trust to a time when the universal introduction of our own arts and civilisation shall confer on India treasures more vast than her richest mines of diamonds or gold. But we must now close this article with a brief summary of the few points which it has been our endeavor to illustrate.
We see, then, the arts of the Western Empire trodden down and lost to view during the ages of northern invasion, but preserved by the feeble successor of the Queen of Nations in the East. We see during the same period the mighty torrent of Moslem conquest, bearing with it the science and arts of the East, and implanting them in the heart of a conquered nation in Europe; whence, during centuries, they diffused themselves through various channels, connecting the empire of the polished Arab with the ruder Gothic nations. Concurrently with this Arabian influence in its later periods, we see the steady and ever-increasing tide of knowledge flowing from Constantinople to Italy and the rest of Europe. Then comes the period of general revival, and the northern nations wake to life. The progress of science and the union of nations call into existence numberless fountains of knowledge, gathering their waters into one mighty stream, that flows on to our own times—an unbroken, resistless river, ever swelling with new and innumerable tributaries.
But the new spirit awakened in Europe does not rest there. It carries her inhabitants forth to the uttermost bounds of the earth. A new world receives them with its singular picture of manners and arts; and while the newly-found nations perish under the ruthless cruelty of the invaders, their country sends back invaluable products to influence the progress of European arts. The progress of these arts, and the mighty inventions of modern times, belong, as we have said, to another article; it has been our care, therefore, to select from the East one example of the unbroken tenor of her industrial life—the antiquity and stability of her arts.