As I Remember
One Sunday afternoon while sailing in the Indian Ocean we had a narrow
escape from shipwreck. Every sail was set to catch the least breath of
air, and Mr. Gouverneur and the children were on deck with the captain,
when in the distance they saw what seemed to resemble a huge wall. The
moment the experienced eye of our skipper saw it he exclaimed, "My God,
we are gone!" It slowly but surely approached our ship and when it
reached us its force was so great that our sails almost dipped into the
ocean. The ship, however, gradually righted itself and we were naturally
more than grateful for our deliverance. I chanced to be resting in my
cabin at the perilous moment and in a most unceremonious manner was
thrown to the floor. After reaching the mouth of that stupendous river,
the Yangtze Kiang, we thought our long voyage was nearly ended, but we
soon discovered that we had not yet "crossed the Rubicon," and that
trouble was still in store for us. We had just passed the mouth of this
river and cast anchor when, to our surprise and dismay, we encountered a
severe storm, and during the night dragged anchor for about twenty
miles. The morning, however, dawned bright and clear, but our captain,
who had lost his temper during the storm, did not accord the Chinese
pilots who boarded us a very gracious reception. This was my first
glimpse of the Chinese within the limits of their own domain.
When we reached the city of Shanghai it was quite dark, but we found
coolies awaiting us with chairs. I shall never forget my first
impressions of China. All of my anticipations of the beautiful Orient
were fully realized, and, as I was carried through the crowded streets,
visions of the Arabian Nights enchanted me and it seemed to me a
veritable region of delight. The streets of Shanghai, however, after the
broad thoroughfares of Washington, appeared like small and complicated
pathways. They were not lighted with public lamps at this time, but
myriads of lanterns of every conceivable shape and color carried by
wayfarers met the eye at every turn and made the whole scene appear like
fairyland. But, alas, the following morning I was undeceived, for
daylight revealed to my vision a very squalid and dirty city. We were
carried to the largest hotel in Shanghai, where it seemed as though I
were almost receiving a home greeting when the sign over the door told
me that it was the Astor House! Still another surprise awaited me.
Although in a strange land, one of the first persons to welcome me was a
former acquaintance, the wife of Mr. Robert Morrison Olyphant, the head
of the prominent _Hong_ of Olyphant and Company. Her maiden name was
Anna O. Vernon and I had formerly known her quite well in New York and
Newport.
We did not linger long in Shanghai, but embraced the first opportunity
to reach Foo Chow. It was a coast voyage of several days and was
attended with much discomfort, as the choppy seas through which we
sailed made all of us very ill--a remarkable experience, considering the
fact that during the whole of our protracted voyage we had not suffered
an uncomfortable moment. We reached Foo Chow, however, in due time, and
Mr. Gouverneur at once assumed his official duties. Foo Chow is called
by the natives _Hok Chiu_, or "Happy City." It is also what is termed a
"Foo-City," signifying a place of the largest magnitude, and was the
sole Chinese port where royalty was represented. It is situated upon the
Min River, about twenty-five miles from its mouth, and is the capital of
the Province of Fokien. The navigation of the river Min was regarded as
dangerous, and the insurance rates for vessels navigating it were higher
than those of any other Chinese port. The place is surrounded by
castellated walls nine or ten miles in circumference, outside of which
are suburbs as extensive as the city itself. Its walls are about thirty
feet high and twelve wide at the top. Its seven gates are overlooked by
high towers, while small guardhouses stand at frequent intervals along
the walls.
Upon our arrival in Foo Chow we found no house provided for the U.S.
Consul, and immediately made our residence with a missionary family,
where we were most comfortable, until the _Hong_ of Augustus Heard and
Company provided us with a residence for which we paid rent. The English
government took better care of its representative. Not far from us was
the British Consulate, a fine building reminding one in certain respects
of the White House. In another residence near by, and provided by his
government, lived the British interpreter, a Scotchman named Milne.
Walter H. Medhurst, the British Consul, and his interpreter were
descendants of early English missionaries. We found Foo Chow to be a
somewhat lawless city. Many of its inhabitants were mountaineers from
the surrounding region who had become pretty well starved out and had
found their way into the city. As a result of their early training, they
gave the authorities much trouble.
I was naturally much impressed by some of the novel and curious customs
then prevalent. The seat of honor assigned a guest was on the left of
the host. The uncovered head for a man was a mark of disrespect and a
servant would accordingly be severely reprimanded if he appeared before
his master with his hat off. Persons in mourning wore white, in striking
contrast with the somber apparel used by ourselves. The shoe polish in
vogue was a chalky white substance. From these and other examples it can
readily be seen I was justified in feeling that I had been transferred
to another planet and had left "dull earth behind me." When we reached
Foo Chow, the gorgeous flowers and other vegetation were at their best.
The month of April was a season set apart by the Chinese to decorate
with flowers the graves of their ancestors; and coming from a land where
such a ceremony was unknown, it impressed me as a beautiful custom. It
suggests, moreover, the inquiry as to whether it was from the Chinese,
or from an innate conviction of the beautiful sentiment demanding an
outward expression, that induced the descendants of the Blue and the
Gray, at a later period, to strew with flowers the last resting-places
of those whose memories they delighted to honor.
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