# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 1/River scenes in China - Part 1

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RIVER SCENES IN CHINA.
Towards the end of last year two sets of people were staring at each other with the utmost inten sity for nearly eight weeks. To all appearance the mutual study left them mutually pleased; and, if so, the only thing to be wished is, that we could a beautiful object, depending from a stalk of learn the precise impression made on both parties as accurately as we can on one. The one party was the population along the banks of the great Chinese river, the Yangtse, from its mouth to the group of three large cities, six hundred miles up; and the other party was the British Embassy. Six hundred miles may appear a small portion of a river which measures upwards of three thousand, but it is enough to carry strangers into the heart of China, where they can see the genuine Chinese people living in their ordinary way, and unmixed with such a sophisticated population as that of Canton, and of all the ports where foreigners trade and reside.
For four hundred miles up, the tides affect the surface of the vast stream, while its mass of waters keeps its way below, to the sea, for ever deepen ing its channel, and draining the interior of the country from side to side, after having done the ​same for a part of Thibet. The ebb of the tide is so strong that, before the days of steam-navigation, the ascent of the river was out of the question, except in the native vessels. Lord Amherst’s party reached the Poyang Lake, in junks, in l8l6, turning thence southwards to Canton. In 1854, an American vessel, the Susquehanna, worked her way up to Woosoo, sixty miles above Nankin: and none but native vessels had ever passed that point till last November, when Lord Elgin and his attendant ships and gun-boats achieved a memorable voyage. They made a ﬁne study of “the son of the sea,” as the Chinese call the mighty stream, and it seems as if the untravelled citizens along the banks had made an earnest study of them.
If the inhabitants would but record their impressions in their dearly-beloved “literature,” we might know, in the course of a generation or two, how the celebrated barbarians appeared in their eyes. As for us at home, it was an anxious season while our countrymen were behind the curtain which veils the interior of China; but when they came into view again, and related what they had seen, it became as evident as it always does on analogous occasions, that men are very much alike everywhere in the make of their heads and hearts, and quite capable of being useful and agreeable to each other whenever all parties desire to be so.
It must have been a wonderful day for the country-people—and for the townspeople, too—when the British squadron came in sight, round a curve of the stream, perhaps, or from behind one of the rocky islets with which its channel abounds. Perhaps it was ﬁrst seen by the bonzes on the height where Bhuddist temples usually stand. The poor priests have nothing to do when their mechanical prayers are said—four times a day—but to sit and look abroad from some ledge or bench : and it is not often that one of their wretched order lights on such a chance as seeing Lord Elgin’s squadron come upon the scene. First, there are the two gun-boats—Dove and Lee—approaching as the advanced guard, the white steam gushing from their cylinders at every stroke, and curling and melting in the air. They hold a steady course between the centre and the banks of the stream, where the channel admits of it, and thus seem to measure its width by keeping a mile or two apart. Then follow the three larger vessels-—the Furious, with Lord Elgin on board-—in the middle. Whether the tide is ﬂowing or ebbing, on come “the ﬁreships" of the strong barbarians. And they are not like the clumsy junks which roll and wallop, and lean over when anything goes wrong. The little outriders of the English squadron give warning when the water shoals, and say whatever they please by shifting their ﬂags. They try here and there—push and probe—go round and about, talking their signal talk all the while; and the large ships watch, listen, and obey-—slacken, stop, and even turn and go back when so advised.
What a sight for the Bhuddist priests! They never before saw ships independent of wind and tide, and are half persuaded that these must be alive and rational. But when the ﬂeet comes abreast of their rock, and the great ships stop while the little ones explore, what a sight it is to see the chief man of the foreigners come ashore, and walk up the hill ! He has an interpreter with him, and he wants to hear about the temple, and the ways of the priests. He learns why the head of one has twelve bald places, the signs of vows he has taken against twelve vices, and what the priest expects to happen to him if he breaks any vow on the list; and how he spends his time without books or business : and ﬁnally the great barbarian gives ﬁve dollars, to the astonishment of the holy group.
The news is now pretty sure to spread up the river. The imperial troops surrounding a city hear of it from their scouts, and the besieged rebels learn it from the bustle outside the walls, and look out from their forts and prepare to ﬁre on the strangers. The peasants driving their cattle in long strings away from the seat of war, see the apparition on the broad stream, whose surface, as polished as a mirror, reﬂects the native rafts and boats, but breaks into ripples wherever the “ ﬁre-ships” turn. The people who are cutting their bulrush-crop in the ﬂats rush to the banks to behold the sight; and even the opium smoker delays lighting his pipe for the moment to witness the miracle of a group of vessels ascending the strong river without a wind, and against the tide. The lime-burners appear from the quarry in the hills, and the oil-mill stops, while the crushers of the seed run to the banks, where the whole population of a village or a town, at present free from the rebels, range themselves—a vast orderly multitude—to see the strangers pass. Some have heard of these barbarians, but more have not; and when the few are set talking the most astonishing stories pass from mouth to mouth. Will they act for or against the rebels? is the practical question. Nobody can answer it now. Is there any one who will venture to inquire the next time the ﬁre-ships stop to rest? Quick eyes soon discern a Chinaman acting as pilot on board the chief vessel; and from point to point of the shores it becomes known that more and more of the country people have held conversation with the strangers, and have come out none the worse from the adventure; till at last it be comes an object of eager desire to sell them food; and the folk make haste home, and collect their fowls and eggs, or go out to ﬁsh in the night, for the chance of a market in the morning.
This much we know, because this much was visible from the deck or the masthead of the English ships, with a little help from interpreter and pilot; but beyond those outward demonstrations all is dark. How far the people understand us, and what they think of us, we can learn only by an incident here and there in the experience of many weeks.
On board, meantime, impressions are gathered from hour to hour. When the channel is clear and the progress rapid, the shifting scenery is full of interest and instruction; and when shoals or perilous rocks delay the ships for hours or days, or compel the unloading of even the coal, the gentlemen of the expedition go ashore, and walk ​Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/159 ​Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/160