History

MACAO DURING THE LAST YEAR OF THE LAST CENTURY

Fernando Castelo-Branco*

The History of Macao, the modus vivendi of its society and the city itself, all areas characterized by a multiplicity of curious and extraordinary facets, are of particular interest to those fascinated by the societies of a bygone age. To anyone interested in attempting to reconstruct society as it once existed, one of the most crucially important sources are the testimonies of contemporary travellers.

The German writer and thinker [Johann Wolfgang von] Goethe, for instance, became so impressed with a description of Portugal made at the end of the eighteenth century by Link, that in a letter to [Friedrich von] Schiller, dated the 25th of March 1801, he commented: "I am sending you the narrative of a journey to Portugal, a very pleasant and instructive read indeed."1

A contemporary student of travel literature on Portugal, who already has a number of works to his name on this subject, particularly emphasised the importance of seventeenth century narratives. However, he warned of the biased attitudes of their chroniclers who sometimes had a tendency to distort reality. 2 He wrote: "On the whole, travel books by foreigners who visited the country during the late eighteenth century are a valid element for the characterization of Portuguese society, but only after critical expurgation of much information which is either tendentious or improvised, not to mention deliberately distorted."3

Notwithstanding the stated dangers, there has been a general tendency recently to give historical credibility to coeval literary travel sources. According to Gilberto Freiro: "Contemporary reports by foreigner travellers are probably the most reliable source for the historical analysis of the social evolution of Brazil. Despite the value of these sources, however, discrimination must be applied when dealing with the viciously preconceived and superficial views of certain authors."4

Most researchers of historic Macao disregarded testimonies left by foreign residents and visitors. However, Luís Gonzaga Gomes, in basing his article Impressões de Macau colhidas nos princípios do século XIX por uma jovem americana (Impressions of Macao by a young American in the early nineteenth century) on the fertile passages of Harriet Low's Diaries, written between 1829 and 1834 when she resided in Macao, may be considered a pioneer. 5

Excerpts of Harriet Low's Diaries also captured the attention of Fr. Manuel Teixeira, the great Macao historian, who published them adding pertinent commentaries and complementing them with three letters by another American, Rebecca Chase Kinsman, who was resident in Macao during November and December, 1843. 6

In 1900, the last year of the last century, G. Weulersse, educated in France at an École Normale Supèrieure and fellow of the Departments of History and Geography of the University of Paris, was awarded a university grant to visit China.

The outcome of his travel experiences in the Middle Kingdom was a book entitled Chine ancienne et nouvelle (China Old and New), published in French, but never English, in Paris by the bookshop Librairie Armand Colin in 1902. This paper closely examines the third chapter of the first part of Weulersse's travel book, worthy of attention because, as Gonzaga Gomes adequately expressed it: [...] published or literary memories of foreigners who either resided or merely visited Macao in former times are extremely rare."7 Furthermore, as Weulersse's work is not listed in Luís Gonzaga Gomes' Bibliografia macaense8 (Macanese Bibliography) it is high time it was made accessible to a wider audience.

Weulersse seems to have been pleasantly surprised by Macao:

"Avec sa fraîche polychromie de murailles blanches, jaunes, mauves et roses, ornées de volets verts et vêtues de verdure, sous le ciel bleu au grand soleil Macao a un air de jeunesse et de gaîté. "

("Macao, with the multi-coloured freshness of its white, yellow, mauve and pink walls, adorned with green shutters and dressed in greenery, under a blue sky and scintillating sun, has about it a lively and gay air.")

The author proceeds in the same manner, favourably describing one of the most characteristic parts of the city — the Praya Grande. Weulersse's description speaks of its beauty, of the architectural richness of its palaces and mansions, but says nothing — most probably due to a lack of knowledge on his part of its historical origins — of how before being a graceful avenue it had been a narrow walkway bordering the sea. Of the many pictorial representations that exist of this walkway, the Museu Luís de Camões (Luís de Camões Museum), 9 in Macao, possesses a particularly interesting example by an anonymous author.

Weulersse says:

"La 'Praya Grande' est l'orgeuil de Macau. C'est un boulevard qui se développe avec ampleur en croissant sur la grande baie. La vue sur le large est trés belle: la mer vient battre les enrochements du quai, et quelquefois rejaillit par-dessus les parapets de granit. Ce n'est plus ici l'atmosphère étouffée d'Hong Kong: on respire pleins poumons la brise. L'ombre est délicieuse des banians aux branches basses, au feuillage serré, que l'âpre vent de mer à noués et tordus. Enfin, ce grand front de vérandas décorées des plus fraîches couleurs, ces étages de colonnes, ces frontons, ces terrasses: tout celá forme un joli décor. [...] La Praya est soignée comme une allée de parc: on n'a rien négligé pour l'embellir; même les poteaux télégraphiques sont décorés, peints en bleu et rouge et surmontés de boules dorées. C'est l'élegance, le fini minucieux d'une ville que le mouvement de la vie ne trouble plus, et qui se pare elle-même comme une relique."

("The 'Praya Grande' is the pride of Macao. It is a broad avenue which fills the wide bay and is extremely beautiful when seen from the open sea. The waves crash against the stone wall of the quay, sometimes splashing over its granite balustrade. Gone is the stuffy atmosphere of Hong Kong. Here, one can draw the sea breeze deeply into one's lungs. The shade of the banyan trees, with their low and leafy branches entwined and distorted by the harsh seawind, is marvellous. The grand elevation of verandahs decorated in the most lively of colours, the colonaded exteriors, the pediments, and the terraces all combine to create a wonderful appearance. [...] The Praya is as well tendered as a park promenade. No effort was spared in its embellishment. Even the telegraph poles are decoratively painted in blue and red and topped off with golden spheres.

It represents the elegance and the careful attention to detail of a city unaffected by the hustle and bustle of daily life, a city which attires itself as if a relic.").

Although the author is extremely impressed by the charm of the Praya Grande, he laments the general sense of apathy which pervades it:

"Plus vivante que l'arrière-ville, la Praya manque cependant d'animation. Les pousse-pousse sont des longues heures oisifs à leur station; et à certains moments la Praya serait déserte sans ratisseurs et balayeurs continuellement occupés à ramasser les feuilles tombées des banians."

("Although livelier than the inner quarters of the city, the Praya lacks excitement. The rickshaw pullers remain idle for hours on end and there are even times when the Praya is deserted save for the street cleaners who incessantly rake and sweep away the fallen leaves of the banyan trees.").

He was enchanted by the Camões' Grotto and the panoramic view that it gave of its surroundings:

"Au-dessus de l'arsenal, vaste bâtiment blanc aux volets verts dont le badigeon s'est ecaillé au pied d'une muraille de pierre sèches, s'étend le jardin oú furent achevées les 'Lusiades'. Des haies de jeunes bambous: un taillis clairsemeé de grands banians à caoutchouc dont les racines comme des serpents se glissent dans les fissures des rochers, et comme des tenctacules de poulpe les enserrent; des dessins de rocaille, mais recouverts de mousse: des allées élégantes, mais envahies par les herbes: tout respire un air de demi-abandon, de nature douce et libre. Quel contraste avec le somptueux, l'impérial jardin de Hong Kong: mais c'est bien ainsi qu'on imagine la retraite du poète!

Voici son observatoire: il tombait en poussiére, on à dû le reconstruire. Mais du haut de la colinne la vue ne descend plus sur une campagne paisible comme alors! Au pied même de la terrasse s'étend un quartier chinois. Des petites maisons aux toits de tuiles brunes, si pressées les unes contre les autres qu'à peine aperçoit-on de rares coins de façades blanches, bleues ou roses: au-dessus s'élévent les tours des Monts-de-Pitié, l'arête des grands murs bordée d'une sorte de fresque blanche et noire. Et le guide me donne des détails positifs: ces Chinois paient 3 cents par an par métre carré au gouvernement de Macao.

Et lá-bas cette île au nom poétique: 'Green Island', l'Ile Verte — est maintenant ratachée à la terre, gâtée par les cheminées et les fumées d'une fabrique de ciment anglaise: cela rapporte 400 piastres par an au gouvernement de Macao, plus 10 cents par tonneau de ciment; si seulement Camoëns [sic] les avait eus pour revenu!

Le monument du moins est digne du poète. Entre deux normes blocs de granit qui, s'appuyant l'un contre l'autre, forment un arche naturel, le buste de bronze est placé sur un socle de granit, et sur l'heroїque mélancolie de ce visage où l'œil droit est teint, descendent comme des lauriers toujours nouveaux des branches de feuillage vert."

("The garden where The Lusiads was finished is just above the arsenal, a vast building of green shutters and peeling whitewash elevations, and right by a dry stone wall. The bamboo shoots; a scattered thicket planted with massive rubber banyans with snake-like roots that slither into the cracks between rocks and tightly embrace them like octopus tentacles; patterned boulders covered by moss; charming alleyways overgrown with weeds; all this gives it an air of semi-abandonment and a carefree nature. What a constrast it makes with the sumptuous imperial gardens of Hong Kong. But this is just how one imagines a poets retreat must be!

Upon this viewpoint he perched, and as it collapsed in dust it was necessary to have it rebuilt. The view from the hilltop is no longer of the sleepy countryside of those days! A Chinese quarter now occupies the area immediatly adjacent to the terrace. Little houses of brown tiled rooftops so tightly packed that one can barely perceive the edges of their white, blue or rose facades. Rising above them are the pawnbrokers towers with the arrises of their massive walls decorated with black and white painted bands. My guide informed me that the Chinese who live in these houses pay the government an yearly rental of 3 cents per square metre.

Further away lies the poetically-named 'Green Island' [Port.: Ilha Verde], now linked to the mainland. The site has been spoiled by the chimneys and the fumes of an English-owned concrete factory, but it yields the government a base annual revenue of 400 piastres, plus 10 cents per barrel of concrete. If only Camões could have counted on such an income!

At least the monument placed in the poets honour is a worthy tribute. His bronze bust stands on a granite pedestal between two massive granite boulders which lean against each other creating a natural arch. Branches of luxuriant green foliage, hanging like an eternal laurel wreath, frame the heroic melancholy of that dead face.").

Thirty-nine years after Weulersses visit, the Portuguese writer José Maria Ferreira de Castro (° 1898) recorded his own impressions of the gardens. Partly similar and partly dissonant, these impressions reflect the fact that they had changed greatly in the intervening period: "It is a remarkable park full of cosy corners, secular trees, and flowers. Chinese rest meditatively on benches, while couples take shelter in the shade, and children play in the open. Adjacent to the inner harbour, the hillock affords excellent views of the moored junks, Green Island, and the distant Zhongshan mountains. The only unpleasant feature is the grotto itself where the epic [poet] is said to have written part of The Lusiads. The location where Camões is assumed to have worked is nothing more than two vertical outcrops with a horizontal boulder resting upon them. It had undoubtedly been a more whimsical place in the days when the poet was in government pay maybe in Macao as a Provedor dos defuntos [Superintendent for the property of the deceased and absent]. But, nowadays, with a sad bust of Camões between the rockeries and a number of Portuguese and Chinese slabs surrounding it, the parks once raw and savage beauty has been transformed into a dismal necropolis."10

Weleursse's attention was also caught by the streets of Macao. He particularly remarked upon their quaintness:

"Ces rues étroites, ces 'calçadas' grimpantes et tournantes, sans trottoirs, pavées de têtes de chat rocailleuses ou glissantes, rappellent le siècle passé. Les grands vitrages de coquilles vaguement translucides montées sur un treillis en bois, aussi étranges à nos yeux que les carreaux de papier Chinois, nous transportent encore plus loin, dans le Moyen Age.

En plein jour ces rues sont presque désertes. Dans la plupart la pente est trop raide même pour des pousse-pousse. Le visiteur peut y errer et rêver sans être dérangé, troublé même par le bruit: dans quelque endroit un peu plus large il trouverá peutêtre la chaussée transformée en atelier par des petits artisans chinois qui y étalent, pour sécher, des fleurs artificielles ou bien des cheveux.

Beaucoup des rues ou des ruelles serpentent entre de grands murs aveugles, sans fenêtres et même sans portes, par-dessus lesquels parfois débordent des verdures tombantes dont la luxuriance même dit l'abandon; entre lesquels résonnent clair les pas solitaires sur le pavé de galets. Quand ce ne sont pas des murs de couvents, ce sont les murs de soutènement des maisons en terrasse."

("The narrow streets and steep, windy, kerbless calçadas, paved with uneven or slippery cobbles, are reminiscent of the last century. The large, vaguely translucent, window panes set in wooden trellises, as exotic to our eyes as Chinese paper puzzles, take us even further back, to the time of the Middle Ages.

During the day, these streets, which are mostly too steep even for the rickshaws, are almost deserted. Undisturbed by noise, visitors may roam and dream without a care in the world, perhaps coming across, on wider stretches of the road, small craft workshops where the Chinese spread out artificial flowers or bundles of hair to dry them in the sun.

Many lanes and alleyways meander between tall, blind walls devoid of windows and even doors and with occasional overhangs of such lush foliage they reveal their state of abandonment. Between these convent walls or ramparts of terraced mansions, the sounds of solitary steps on the cobblestones echo sharply.").

Seventy years before Weulersse, Harriet Low had already remarked in similar fashion upon the streets of Macao: "I could not conceive I was walking down a street. It was more like going between very tall houses [...]. All houses are surrounded by very high walls [...]."

The awkward sensation given by the streets of Macao was not only described by Weulersse and Harriet Low. In Memórias [...] (Memoirs [...]), the Portuguese writer Joaquim Paço d'Arcos (°1908) reminisces on his experiences: "Many of the houses inhabited by families of Portuguese descent, be they native or immigrant, complied with the patterns of construction seen in our [Portugal] provinces, regardless of whether they be palatial residences or more humble abodes, There were calçadas [cobbled streets] reminiscent of throughfares in Leiria or Vila Real."11

The description given by Ferreira de Castro many years later is in the same vein: "[...] on the opposite side, old houses, old mansions, windows and balconies from Portugal."12

But Weulersse remarked on another characteristic of their construction:

"Presque toutes les fenêtres d'ailleurs sont défendues par des fort barreaux qui donnent aux habitations un aspect de prisons: precaution utile contre les voleurs qui sont nombreaux à Macao; protection éventuelle contre un coup de main de la population chinoise, très mêlée et assez turbulente!"

("Besides, most windows are protected by strong bars, giving houses the look of prisons. This is not only a useful precaution against the many robbers which exist in Macao but also against an eventual uprising of the mixed and turbulent Chinese population!").

But this does not seem to have deterred those who sought fame and fortune in Macao:

"Les plus riches habitations privées sur la Praya Grande sont celles de gros commerçants chinois qui, après fortune faite, ont trouvé ici un refuge contre les exactions des mandarins; ils y ont trouvé aussi un air plus sain que celui de Hong Kong, et des terrains moins chers."

("The most luxurious private residences of the Praya Grande belong to the big Chinese merchants who, after amassing a large fortune, found here [i. e., in Macao] not only a haven against the exactions of the mandarins but also a more salubrious climate and less formidable land prices than in Hong Kong.").

And he goes on to describe the staircase and facade of St. Paul's Church:

"Le véritable monument de l'ancien Macao est une ruine, le portail de 'San Paulo'. Les escaliers qui y montent sont imposants: ils montent, montent, comme vers les nuages, semblables aux escaliers célèbres du Japon; mais larges comme des terrasses, ils ont encore plus de grandeur; l'herbe à beau pousser sur leurs marches de pierre.

La façade seule est restée debout se détache en plein ciel comme un grand portique triangulaire à trois étages."

("But the true monument of old Macao is a ruin: the portal of St. Paul's [Church]. The steps leading up to it are most impressive, and appear to reach upwards as if to the skies. They are similar to the famous steps in Japan, but grander and as deep as the width of terraces. Weeds grow on their stone steps.

Only the façade remains, standing in relief against the sky as a three-storied triangular portico.").

He also mentions the carelessness of the Portuguese towards the historic monument:

"L'incurie des Portugais à laissé la saleté chinoise souiller cette ruine. Ce qui fut l'intérieur de la nefn'est qu'un amas de décombres et d'ordures où les porcs se proménent. Au moment où je lis l'inscription sculptée sous la grande arcade du milieu: 'Mater Dei...' une norme truie paraît dans l'ouverture; et des immondices sont accumulées devant la 'première pierre', jadis pose en grande pompe, où se lit encore une inscription mémorable: VIRGINI MAGNAE MATRI CIVITAS MACAENSIS LIBENS POSUIT AN. 1602."

("The neglect of the Portuguese has allowed the Chinese to soil the ruin with their filth. What would have been the interior of the nave is [at present] no more than a heap of rubble and rubbish where pigs roam. As I stand reading the inscription chiselled under the major central arcade, 'Mater Dei... ', a huge sow noses out from the opening. Debris is heaped just in front of the foundation stone, once laid with great ceremony and where one can still read the memorable inscription: VIRGINI MAGNAE MATRI CIVITAS MACAENSIS LIBENS POSUIT AN. 1602. ").

The cathedral received special attention from the author as we can see in this detailed description of its interior:

"L'intérieur de la cathédrale est trés gai, tout blanc, vivement clair par de larges fenêtres ouvrant sur des vérandas; les lustres sont chargés de cristaux; jusqu'aux verres des lampes qui sont ondulés et teints en bleu: c 'est une salle élégante. Point de mystère, point d'envolée: l'arc du plafond est surbaissé, et des filets d'or relèvent la corniche, comme dans un salon Louis XVI. La chaire est de belle lacque noire dorée; et les boiseries des 'loges' reluisent également de laques et dorés. Les chapelles latérales sont décorées en bleu foncé et en rouge vif. Le grand autel est tout blanc, mais étincelant d'orfévreries; au-dessus une Vierge en blanc trône sous un dais bleu tendre."

("The interior of the cathedral is very jolly. It is painted throughout in white and brightly lit by large windows which open onto balconies. The chandeliers are crammed with crystals; even the glasses of the lamps are ondulated and tinted blue. It has an elegance which is both devoid of mystery and over-elaboration. Much like a Louis XVI salon, it has a false ceiling vault with a cornice embellished with golden filets. The [episcopal] throne is of beautiful black lacquer with gilding. The lacquered [surfaces] and gilt [adornments] of the woodwork of the boxes shine in equal splendour. The side chapels are decorated in dark blue and bright red. The major altar is completely white but sparkling with silverware. Over it sits a Virgin on a white throne under a soft blue canopy.").

Even more curious is the description of a solemn mass attended by the local military:

"Prés de la porte le commun peuple est assis sur des bancs trés bas; les soldats occupent le milieu de la nef; la bourgeoisie, prés de la chaire et du chœur, à des chaises. Dans le chœur même, le peloton de service, en rang de chaque côté de l'autel.

Sur le coup de onze heures l'officiant monte les degrés; les soldats du chœur mettent baїonette au canon, et soudain éclate la musique. Au premier moment l'effet est extraordinaire et vraiement insupportable: il semble que cet orchestre joue des airs de danse. Mais au bout d'un instant on est moins choqué; la scéne paraît étrange, barbare, mais non sans grandeur. Lorsque l'assistance s'agenouille sur les dalles et se courbe jusqu'à terre, que les baїonettes dans le chœur s'inclinnent, et que sur cette prosternation universelle sonne une trompette impérieuse, à laquelle succède tout d'un coup, à contretemps, le silence: cette puissante mise em scène, cet appareil formidable de l'Église catholique, servante du Dieu terrible, frappent, impressionent. Et l'on croit voir revivre le Moyen Age."

FACING PAGE: AHM:LR.0016. Arquivo Histórico de Macau (Historical Archive of Macao), Macao.

("The common people are seated on very low benches near the [main] door. The soldiers occupy the centre of the nave. The bourgeoisie, close to the [episcopal] throne and the choir, have chairs. The choir stands in rows either side of the altar.

At the stroke of eleven, the priest goes up the steps, the choir soldiers slot their bayonets onto their fire-arms and, suddenly, music bursts forth. At first, the sensation is extraordinary yet utterly unbearable; it would seem that the orchestra has broken into a dance tune. But after a moment this initial shock subsides. The atmosphere is peculiar, even barbarous, but somehow imposing. This formidable machine which is the Catholic Church, servant of a terrifying God, indeed astonishes and impresses when the [mass] partipants kneel on the flagstones and bend down to the ground, the bayonets in the choir lean forward and silence suddenly prevails after the resounding blow of an imperious trumpet overpowers universal prostration. It is like a re-enactment of the Middle Ages.").

The last phrases are certainly silly and inappropriate. The sound of a trumpet in the context of a mass neither signifies or even evokes a "[...] terrifying God [... nor the...] Middle Ages [...]".

It is half past six in the afternoon. Weulersse is on the Praya Grande and observes the funeral cortége of a Catholic dignitary. His detailed description of the event is extremely interesting:

"En tête s'avance une grande croix d'argent surmontée d'une couronne comme la couronne du Portugal est surmontée d'une croix! Puis viennent de chaque côté de la grande allée deux longues files de prêtres en surplis blanc et mantelet vert.

Ensuite quatre croix, plus petites, avec des manteaux de velours sombre brodés d'or, portées par quatre enfants de chœur: le premier en noir, le second en rouge, le troisiéme en noir, et le dernier, un chinois, en longue robe de soie bleu clair. De nouveaux deux longues files de servants: les chinois en bleu et blanc; les européens en blanc et noir; les moines de Manille tout en noir. Et tous tiennent des cierges dont les petites flammes rougeoient étrangement sous l'arceau noir des banians, flammes sans lumière dans la clarté encore grande du soir.

Le cerceuil vient enfin, porté par six chinois: les figures contractées par l'effort semblent vraiment empreintes de douleur. La bièrre est tout ouverte: le fin profil du mort, d'une belle pâleur de cire, se détache avec netteté; les mains délicates tiennent une croix d'or; sur le corps est tendu un grand drap noir. Le dais au-dessus est bordé de franges d'or: aux angles sont fixés de gros nœuds de mousseline blanche; au chevet, dans un cadre de bois sculpté et doré, un soleil rouge.

Les trois officiants — étole noire brodée d'or — suivent; puis le public, rien que des hommes; enfin la musique militaire, et tout un cortege de pousse-pousse, quelques-uns remplis de fleurs.

Les vagues de la marée montante battent le quai de granit; d'église en église, de chapelle en chapelle, les cloches sonnent le glas; les postes sortent et présentent les armes. La marche est trés lente; la musique en sourdine joue une marche funébre. La foule de chinois range des deux côtés regarde en silence.

Dans l'allée montante du cimetière, en plein air, on s'arrête, et la prière des morts commence. Au sommet du mamelon s'élève une chapelle blanche et vert pâle, où luit une fainte lumière. Le soir tombe: les cierges mettent des reflets rouges sur la face des prêtres, et font étinceler les orfévreries de la grande croix; les ifs noircissent et la chapelle dont les grandes lignes s'effacent s'éclaire intérieurement, tandis que par-delá la mer devient livide.

Les dernières prières sont dites: au bord de la tombe le cercueil est deposé. La figure du mort est déjà perdue dans l'ombre: on détache la croix d' entre ses doigts raidis; on raméne sur le visage les longs voiles de mousseline blanche; avec des linges blancs on borde le corps. Puis on pose le couvercle doublé de velours où des clous à tête d'or dessinent une grande croix; une vitre ronde marque la place du visage: légèrement on fixe par-dessus une planchette de bois blanc.

Le cerceuil est descendu et chacun jette dans la fosse une poignée de sable. Les cierges s'éteignent; il fait tout à fait noir. Mais la chapelle reste claire, et des chants funbres résonnent encore. Tard dans la soirée les prêtres européens et chinois, leur surplis enlevé, les robes bleues et noires indistinctes dans l'ombre, repassent sur la Praya."

("Leading the way is a big silver cross topped by a crown as the Crown of Portugal is topped by a cross! Right behind, on either side of the imposing avenue follow two long rows of priests in white surplices and green cassocks.

After, come four smaller crosses dressed in dark velvet covers embroidered in gold and carried by four choir boys: the first in black, the second in red, the third in black, and the last one, a Chinese, wearing a long, pale-blue tunic. These are followed by two long rows of consecrated priests: the Chinese in blue and white; the Europeans in black and white and the Manila friars entirely in black. All carry candles with small and strange flushed flames, candles devoid of glow against the strong luminosity of the evening, under the dark umbrellas of the banyan trees.

Finally, held aloft by six Chinese pall bearers, crisped by the effort and emotionally expressing their sorrows, follows the coffin. The casket is open, sharply revealing the serene wax paleness of the noble profile of the dead. His delicate hands hold a golden cross. A long black sheet covers his body. Sheltering him is a canopy hemmed with gilt edging, large bows of white muslin at its corners and a red sun on a golden head board.

The coffin is followed by the three priests in charge, wearing black stoles embroidered in gold, and then a solely male crowd. Bringing up the rear, comes a military band and a long cortége of rickshaws, some full of flowers.

As the waves of the rising tide hit the granite seawall, from church to church, and chapel to chapel, the bells toll and the sentries come out to present arms. The going is slow; the doleful music plays a funereal tune. Chinese crowds line the route on both sides and stare on in silence.

The procession comes to a halt on the inclined path of the cemitery. The prayers of the dead begin. At the top of the hillock stands a white and palegreen chapel where a feeble light shines. Night falls. The candles throw a red glow onto the faces of the priests and make the silverware of the great cross sparkle. The yew trees become gloomier and the contours of the chapel dissipate while inside it progressively gets brighter. In the background, meanwhile, the sea becomes ever more torrid.

The last payers are recited. The coffin lies next to the tomb. The figure of the dead man is lost to the darkness. The cross is removed from his rigid fingers. His face is covered by long, white, muslin veils while his body is tucked between white sheets. The [coffin's] lid, lined with velvet where the massive headnails repeat the pattern of a large cross, is closed. A round piece of glass indicates the location of the [dead man's] face; gently it is covered by. a small white board.

The coffin is lowered and each person present throws a handful of sand into the grave. The candles are extinguished; now all is blackness. But the chapel stays lit; the mourning chants are not over yet. Late into the evening, the European and the Chinese priests, no longer wearing their stoles, with their blue and black outfits indistinguishable in the dark, make their way back along the Praya.").

According to Weulersse, Macao was a feeble military stronghold. However, it must be remembered that the territory remained Portuguese for reasons other than the mere size of its military garrison. Indeed, Charles Boxer mentions that the 1622 Dutch attack of the city was repelled by "[...] a mere handful of [...] trained soldiers [... and that, according to him...] the real defence of the city was not dependant on its three batteries and its incomplete citadel, but in the determined willpower and the military expertise of its residents."13

Weulersse describes Macao much along the same lines:

"Macao est remplie de religieux et fait montre de ses soldats. Mais ce sont justement des soldats de parade: c'est à peine s'ils savent tenir leur arme; et au moindre défilé on les voit tous: ils sont deux cents. Macao est défendue par sept forts: cela fait à peine trente hommes par fort, à peine de quoi garder les prisionniers. Et ces forts sont des antiquités: la plupart des canons sont des canons de bronze. Macao contre une attaque sérieuse ne se triendrait pas une heure!"

("Macao is full of missionaries and makes a big show of its armed forces. Two hundred in total, they are no more than mere parade soldiers who barely know how to handle their weapons, yet they are ever present at parades. Macao is defended by seven forts, each with a garrison of less than thirty, which is barely enough to guard the prisioners. The forts themselves are ancient with most of the canons being cast from bronze. If Macao were to be seriously attacked, it would not hold more than an hour.").

More important are Weulersses ruminations on Macao's economic situation, which he sees in irreparable decay:

"La décadence commerciale de Macao sans être aussi complte que sa déchéance militaire est aussi irrémédiable. La baie extérieure est profonde; mais elle est mal protégée; la baie intérieure est sûre, mais elle s'est envasée: le rattachement inconsidéré de 'Green Island' à la côte par une chaussée à acceléré encore le progrés de l'envasement. Depuis quelque temps déjà les grands bateux ne peuvent plus accoster ni mouiller en sûreté à Macao: c'est une des raisons pour lesquelles Hong-Kong à si aisément triomphé du vieux comptoir portugais. Pour subvenir aux dépenses de la colonie, le gouvernement à dû multiplier les monopoles fiscaux: monopole du pétrole, de l'abatage du bétail; monopole du sel, riz, etc. Mais Macao est demeuré port franc, et ce privilége lui a valu de rester un centre industriel et commercial encore considérable.

Ce sont les chinois qui continuent faire vivre Macao: ils ne sont pas moins de 78.000 dans la colonie. La Praya chinoise sur le bord de la baie intérieure est le centre des affaires. Elle grouille de monde; point de banians dont on ramasse une à une les feuilles: point de frontons ni de colonnades; mais des magasins et des chantiers — de grands étendages: poissons salés séchant au soleil, le ventre ouvert ou les ouїes bâillantes; pieuvres dépouillées et déjà racornies."

("Although Macao's commercial situation is not as drastic as that of its military situation, it is equally irretrievable. The waters of the Outer Harbour are deep but the bay is undefended; the Inner Harbour is much safer but its waters are shallow and its silting has been further accelerated by the thoughtless construction of a causeway linking Green Island to the mainland. For quite some time already it has been dangerous for large vessels to moor or drop anchor in Macao, and this has been one of the reasons why Hong Kong has come to prosper again to the detriment of the old Portuguese trading post. In order to cover expenditure, the government has been forced to increase its monopolies: oil, the slaughtering of cattle, salt, rice, etc. Notwithsanding this, Macao remains a free port and this concession enables it to continue as an important trade and industrial centre.

The survival of Macao depends on the Chinese, of which no less than 78,000 reside in the colony. Their trading activities centre on the Chinese Praya along the quay in the Inner Harbour. Here, you find no banyan trees or men collecting leaves one by one, no pediments or colonnades. It bursts with activity. It is full of stores and workshops as well as vast open areas where shrivelled and leathery octopuses and salted fish with open bellies and gaping gills dry under the sun.").

Weulersse also noted that the real commerce of Macao was in the hands of other nationalities rather than under the control of the Portuguese. For instance, the concrete factory belonged to the British and the most prestigious hotel to Chinese, who also owned major assets in the tobacco, tea, salted fish, opium and gambling industries.

"La Ferme de l'opium est une des instituitions et une des richesses de Macao: elle ne rapporte pas moins de 178.00014 piastres au gouvernement. La preparation du précieux narcotique occupe 300 ouvriers et l'usine dispose de la seule pompe à vapeur sans doute qui existe à Macao. L'opium arrive de l'Inde en boules de la grosseur et de la chaleur des noix de coco. Chaque caisse, qui est soigneusement goudronné et en outre revouverte de forte toile, renferme trois étages de ces boules séparées par des nattes: à chaque étage les boules sont enfuies dans de la sciure et encore maintenues dans un cadre de bois blanc. On les retire une à une et chacune este pesée dans une balance de precision. L'opium de Macao est trés renommé, et s'expédie par grandes quantités en Californie et en Australie. C'est une des principales exportations de la colonie et une des plus fructueuses: car une petite boîte d' opium qui vaut six piastres à Macao en vaut le triple à San Francisco."

("The Opium Farm is one of Macao's institutions and treasures. It yields local government no less than 178,000 piastres. Three hundred workmen are employed in the preparation of this precious narcotic and the factory has the only steam pump in Macao. The opium is brought from India in balls which, in size and colour, resemble coconuts. They arrive packed in boxes, in three layers separated by matting, each box carefully tarred and wrapped in a strong canvas. In each layer, the balls are buried in sawdust and further packed in white wooden containers. They are taken out one at a time and individually weighed on a precision scale. Macao opium is renowned and it is shipped in large quantities to California and Australia, being one of the major exports of the Colony and one of the most lucrative. A small box of opium, worth six piastres in Macao, fetches three times this value in San Francisco.").

Equally suggestive is his rendering of a tobacco factory:

"À la grande manufacture de tabacs on entre d'abord dans la salle d'épluchage. C'est un curieux effect de couleur: le bois de la charpente, les vêtements des ouvrières, les stalles de bois où elles sont assises, les paniers où elles mettent les feuilles, tout est de la même couleur brune que les feuilles elles-mêmes jusqu 'au reflet du mur voisin tombant d' une fentre grillée. Et dans le demi-jour brun c'est une confusion de femmes et d'enfants et un grand train de bavardage.

Par un dédale de cours et de terrasses on arrive dans un hangar humide et sombre où s'agitent les blancheurs des grands corps nus: c'est la salle de presse. Il y a douze presses rien que sur une ligne: c'est de la grande industrie, mais combien primitive! Chaque presse est faite d'énormes poutres dont les extremités d'un côté sont tenues par une grosse charnière defer, tandis que de l'autre on les rapproche à l'aide d'un treuil à main.

Le vaste hangar n'est éclairé que de quelques rayons de lumière crue par les portes ou par de petites vitres dans le toit de la grandeur d'une tuile. Au-dessus des établis une sorte de plateforme en bambou est suspendue à la charpente; des nattes et des couvertures y sont roulées; des caisses entassées; jetés pêle-mêle tous les menus objects d'un ménage; c'est le dortoir des ouvriers. Dans un coin quelques tables avec des tasses et des bols: c'est le réfectoire.

Les cours sont un véritable capharnaüm: du linge tendu sur des cordes; des fourneaux où l'on fait la cuisine; de grandes jarres qui servent de 'pissoirs'; dans ce taudis errent des chats et des chien-loups. Devant certains pilliers dont la base est peinte en rouge brûlent les indispensables bâttonets."

("The first area you encounter on entering the large tobacco factory is the sorting room. Here, there is a strange sense of colour: the wooden frame, the clothes of the female workers, the stools where they sit, the baskets where the leaves are collected, and even the reflection on an adjacent wall perceived through a bare window, are all of the same brown colour as the leaves themselves. This half-lit, brownish atmosphere is inhabited by a mass of women and children in incessant chatter. A labyrinth of patios and terraces lead to the pressing room, a humid and somber hangar where naked, white bodies can be seen to be moving around. Presses are arranged twelve to a row, enough for a major industry if it was not for their unfortunate primitiveness. Each press consists of massive wooden beams linked on one side by an iron hinge. On the other side, each can be manually opened and closed by a winch.

The vast hangar is barely lit save for a few rays of daylight which enter through the doors and the small panes of glass in the ceiling no bigger than a tile. Bamboo shelves suspended from the roof hang above the work benches. A great disarray of rolled mats and bedcovers, stacked up boxes, and trifling household objects constitutes the workmen's dormitory, and in a comer of the working area there are some tables with cups and bowls which makes do as their refectory.

The patios are chaotic: slums full of stray cats and wolfhounds with clothes hanging from ropes, and cooking ovens and huge vats used as pissingpots. Indispensable incense sticks burn against some piers painted red at the bottom.").

Weulersse also visited a tea factory, providing this description of its atmosphere and a few detailed remarks on the female workers:

"La factorerie de thé, elle aussi, à l'air d'une maison privée mal adaptée aux besoins d'une grande entreprise. L'escalier est trop beau; en revanche les sous-sols où l'on fait sécher le thé, prenant jour seulement par d'étroits soupiraux grillés, sont noirs, et l'on y étouffe.

Au premier les cribleurs secouent leurs tamis avec une régularité mécanique. Sous une longue véranda dont la peinture et le bandigeon moisis se décollent, sont installées les trieuses. Elles sont assises, presque par terre, sur des petits bancs, le long dune table basse où sont placés des plateaux de jonc tressé; de chaque côté cinquantes paires de mains agiles travaillent fébriles. Sur beaucoup de poignets brille l'éclair d'un bracelet de perles ou de métal: et elles gagnent pour toute la journe de dix à onze cents. Les petits travaillent où font semblant de travailler à côté de leur mères: de temps à autre une jeune femme s'arrête pour donner le sein son marmot."

("The tea factory also looks like a private residence somewhat awkwardly adapted to the requirements of a large business. In constrast to the extremely elegant staircase, the stifling basement where the tea is dried is barely lit by narrow grilled vents.

On the ground floor the sifters shake their sieves with a mechanic rhythm. The sorting women are gathered on a long verandah where the paint is peeling and the plastering mouldy. They are seated on very low stools alongside an equally low table full of woven junk trays over which fifty pairs of dextrous hands incessantly labour. Notwithstanding the ten or eleven cents a day the women earn, many wrists glitter with the shine of a pearl or a metal bracelet. Children work, or pretend to work, near their mothers and, once and a while, a young woman stops to breastfeed her child.").

But by far Weulersses best descriptive account is saved for a gambling hall:

""Casa di15 Jogo", nous sommes arrivés. On monte un escalier de bois assez sale et on arrive dans une pièce assez bien éclairée, mais nue et exiguë. C'est d'ailleurs sourtout une gallerie pour les spectateurs: une large baie circulaire donne sur la vraie salle de jeu situe au-dessous.

Sur une grande table couverte, non d'un tapis vert, mais d'une fine natte jaune, un petit carré noir, comme une ardoise. Chacun des côtés porte un numéro: le long de chaque côté, se placent les enjeux ou plutôt les jetons d'ivoire qui les représentent, et les petites cartes qui indiquent le nom du joueur. Un vieux Chinois chauve, sommeilant et bâillant, à remué sur une table un grand tas de rondelles de cuivre percées d'un trou rond, et il en à mis à part une poignée. Les enjeux placés, avec une petite baguette — comme une baguette manger, — il retire les rondelles mises à part, quatre par quatre. Il en reste à la fin une, deux, trois, ou quatre: c'est le chiffre restant qui est le numéro gagnant.

C'est la simplicité même, et même l'honnêteté. Si vous perdez, vous ne perdez que votre mise; si vous gagnez, vous la gagnez trois fois: or vous avez seulement trois chances de perdre contre une de gagner. Le malher est que le fermier du jeu perçoit 8 pour 100 sur tout enjeu: cela fai un beau bénéfice, que le gouvernement de Macao est d'ailleurs très hereux de partager.

Prodigieuse est l'agilité du croupier qui dispose les enjeux et solde les comptes: ses mains ne s'arrêtent pas, sa langue pas davantage; tout en sueur, il à ouvert sa veste, et l'on voit à nu sa poitrine brune. Frappant aussi le calme des joueurs: une attention anxieuse; des torses penchés, des yeux agrandis; mais ni gestes ni paroles.

Les spectateurs de la galerie s'intéressent au jeu autant que les joueurs: sur des carrés de papier distribués à cet usage, ils inscrivent la suite des numéros gagnants, à la recherche sans doute de quelque martingale. L'envie de jouer en prend un ou deux, la tentation est trop forte, un compère est là au balcon qui dans une corbeille descend leur bel argent sonnant sur le fatal 'tapis jaune'!"

(""Casa di Jogo" — We arrive at the gambling hall. Beyond a quite filthy wooden staircase opens an empty, cramped yet well-lit room. More like a spectators's gallery, from its wide round [central] opening one overlooks the real gambling hall, a floor below.

On an ample table covered not by a carpet but by thin yellow matting there is a small black square which resembles a slate, each of its sides inscribed with a number. Along the slates' edges are placed the bids or rather varied ivory chips representing different amounts and the small cards upon which the names of the bidders are written. An old Chinese, already bald, yawning and half asleep, stirs a large number of small, copper rings on the table, putting aside a handful. After the bets are placed, in fours, he counts the number of rings placed aside using a small stick similar to a chopstick. At the end, there are only one, two, three or four rings, the remaining number being the winning amount.

It is all so simple... and honest. If one loses, one only loses the original stake, but if one wins, one recoups three times the amount, i. e., one has three chances of losing against one of wining. The snag is that the gambling controller receives eight per cent of all bets placed thus making a handsome profit which, it must be said, the government of Macao is extremely pleased to share.

The dealer who handles the bets and settles the winnings is surprisingly nimble; his hands never rest and neither does his tongue. Drenched in sweat he discards his top and deals bare-chested. Equally astonishing is the concentration of the players, always immovable and silent, with their anxious stares, straining bodies and exploding eyes.

The interest of the gallery spectators focuses more on the game than on the gamblers. Apparently trying to calculate a winning formula they note the sequence of the winning numbers in little square papers specifically provided for the purpose. Unable to resist temptation, one or two place their bets with a gambling agent who, from the balustrade, lowers their cash in a basket onto the fatal yellow mat.").

Thirty-nine years after Weulersse, Ferreira de Castro visited Macao and also described a gambling hall. Many are the similarities between their descriptions, as we can see in the Portuguese author's following account of a casino recorded in 1939: "As you go in, you notice that in each room there is a linoleum-covered table. Just behind each table are the croupiers, employers of the Chinese bankers, who take the money for the stakes and register the amount each person bids. Opposite, shoulder to shoulder, stand all those enthralled by the game. This Oriental passion, called fantan, is easy to master: just follow the gestures of the short-sleeved and cunningly relaxed Chinese dealer who is seated at the head of the table. Next to his hands lie a heap of white chips resembling medium-size buttons. Once in a while he covers these chips with a downturned bronze cup similar to a bell. This gesture signals the beginning of a new game. The secret of fantan lies in guessing the number of chips covered by the cup. The gamblers bid on the numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4. When the bidding is over, the short-sleeved man raises the bronze cup and, with a small stick, starts counting the uncovered chips, separating them into groups of four. If, at the end, a single button remains isolated, the winning number is 1; if two, then the winning number is 2, etc.. If, by any chance, all the chips should fall into equal groups of four, then the number 4 wins. Winners are paid double their initial bid.

The ceiling of these halls is open, resembling a skylight. Up above, surrounding the broad oval opening, runs a wooden balustrade against which rest tables. Around these tables sit gamblers concentrating on following the progress of the game down below. When they want to place a bid, they lower their stake [onto the gambling table] in a small basket suspended by a string and shout their elected number [1 to 4]. Then they remain in tense expectation, their slanting stare sharper than those of seagulls. As soon as the bronze cup is raised, they count in a flash the heap of fifty or sixty chips lying on the table and, well before the winning number is uttered, they already know if they have won or lost.").

Weulersse's memories of Macao from almost one hundred years ago are a good source of research material. Pierre Foncin, in the Preface to the travelogue's narrative states:

"[...] et comment oublierait-on, aprés les avoir vus avec vous: les rizières et les bancs de boue de Whampoa; Macao, la vieille cité portugaise aux murailles versicolores 'vetues de verdure et de ciel bleu', mais figée dans le reliquaire de son glorieux passé; Changhai, qui donne en plein Extrême Orient une impression d'Europe [...]."17

("[...] and how can one possibly forget the rice fields and the muddy embankments of Whampoa after having experienced them. Macao, the old Portuguese city with its multi-coloured walls, dressed in greenery and azure skies, like a relic, staunched in its glorious past. Shanghai, a touch of Europe in the heart of the Far East [...].").

These visions of a previous world are certainly worth remembering.

Translated from the French by: Isabel Doel

NOTES

1 [SCHILLER, Friedrich von,] HERR, Lucien, trans., Correspondence entre Schiller et Goethe: 1794-1805, Paris, 1923, vol. 4, p.147 (letter 805).

2 CHAVES, Castelo Branco, Os livros de viagens em Portugal no século XVIII e a sua projecção europeia, Lisboa, 1977, p.11 — In general, travellers arrived in Spain already with preconceived ideas. It can be said that they conditioned themselves to select valid and visual examples in support of their thesis, previously structured prior to analysis and observation. They had categorically pre-established an imaginary picture of two supertitious, fanatic, backwards and absurdly ignorant nations [i. e., Spain and Portugal]."

3 Ibidem., p. 13.

4 FREIRE, Gilberto, Casa grande e senzala, Rio de Janeiro, 1938, p. XXV [3rd edition].

5 GOMES, Luís Gonzaga, Páginas da história de Macau, in "Notícias de Macau", Macau, (23)1966, pp. 203-216.

6 TEIXEIRA, Manuel, Macau no século XIX visto por uma jovem americana, Macau, Direcção dos Serviços de Educação e Cultura, 1981.

7 GOMES, Luís Gonzaga, op. cit., p.203.

8 GOMES, Luís Gonzaga, Bibliografia Macaense, in "Boletim do Instituto Luís de Camões", Macau, 7 (1) Primavera [Spring] 1973.

9 TEIXEIRA, Manuel, Os militares em Macau, Macau, Comando Territorial Independente, 1976, p. 171 [2nd ed.: Macau, Comando das Forças de Segurança, 1984]. Also see: TEIXEIRA, Manuel, Macau, in "Boletim Eclesiástico da Diocese de Macau", Macau, 73 (843), Fevereiro [February] 1975, pp. 153-160; 73 (844), Março [March] 1975, pp. 234-242.

10 CASTRO, José Maria Ferreira de, A volta ao mundo, Lisboa, 1942, p.480.

11 PAÇO DE ARCOS, Joaquim, Memórias da minha vida e do meu tempo, Lisboa, 1973, vol. 1, p.241.

12 CASTRO, José Maria Ferreira de, op. cit., p.477.

13 BOXER, Charles Ralph, 24 de Junho de 1662 [sic]: uma façanha dos Portugueses, in "Boletim da Agência Geral das Colónias", Lisboa, (15) Set. [September] 1926, pp. 123-124. Also see: BOXER, Charles Ralph, Ataque dos holandezes a Macau em 1622. Relação inédita de Fr. Àlvaro do Rosário. Anotada por Charles Ralph Boxer, Offprint of Boletim da Agência Geral das Colónias, Lisboa, (30), [n. d.].

14 WEULERSSE, G., Chine ancienne et nouvelle, Paris, Librairie Armand Colin, 1902, part. 1, chap. 3, p. [?], note — The author mentions that 178.000 piastres are equivalent to 500.00 French Francs of those days.

15 "di" is certainly a misprint. Considering that there are other Portuguese words in the same text most probably the correct word is the Portuguese word 'de'.

16 CASTRO, José Maria Ferreira de, op. cit., p.484.

17 FONCIN, Pierre, Preface, in WEULERSSE, G., "Chine ancienne et nouvelle", Paris, Librairie Armand Colin, 1902.

* Lecturer of History at the Universidade Lusíada (Lusiad University), Lisbon. Member of the Board of the Sociedade de Geografia de Lisboa (Geographical Society of Lisbon). Honorary Member of the Academia de Ciências de Lisboa (Lisbon Academy of Sciences).

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