The Awakening of China by W.A.P. Martin

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The canal deserves the name of "grand" as the wall on the north
deserves the name of "great." Memorials of ancient times, they both
still stand unrivalled by anything the Western world has to show,
if one except the Siberian Railway. The Great Wan is an effete relic
no longer of use; and it appears to be satire on human foresight
that the Grand Canal should have been built by the very people
whom the Great Wall was intended to exclude from China. The canal
is as useful to-day as it was six centuries ago, and remains the
chief glory of the Mongol dynasty.

Kublai having set up his throne in the north, and completed the
conquest of the eighteen provinces, ordered the construction of
this magnificent waterway,
[Page 32]
which extends 800 miles from Peking to Hangchow and connects with
other waterways which put the northern capital in roundabout
communication with provinces of the extreme south. His object was
to tap the rice-fields of Central China and obtain a food supply
which could not be interfered with by those daring sea-robbers,
the redoubtable Japanese, who had destroyed his fleets and rendered
abortive his attempt at conquest. Of the Great Wall, it may be said
that the oppression inseparable from its construction hastened
the overthrow of the house of its builder. The same is probably
true of the Grand Canal. The myriads of unpaid labourers who were
drafted by _corvee_ from among the Chinese people subsequently
enlisted, they or their children, under the revolutionary banner
which expelled the oppressive Mongols.

Another port in this province which we cannot pass without an admiring
glance, is Chefoo (Chifu). On a fine hill rising from the sea wave the
flags of several nations; in the harbour is a cluster of islands; and
above the settlement another noble hill rears its head crowned with
a temple and groves of trees. On its sides and near the seashore are
the residences of missionaries. There I have more than once found
a refuge from the summer heat, under the hospitable roof of Mrs.
Nevius, the widow of my friend Dr. J. L. Nevius, who, after opening
a mission in Hangchow, became one of the pioneers of Shantung. In
Chefoo he planted not only a church, but a fruit garden. To the
Chinese eye this garden was a striking symbol of what his gospel
proposed to effect for the people.

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CHAPTER VII

PROVINCE OF CHIHLI

_Taku--Tientsin--Peking--The Summer Palace--Patachu--Temples
of Heaven, Earth, and Agriculture--Foreign Quarter--The Forbidden
City--King-Han Railway--Paoting-fu_

Crossing the gulf we reach Taku, at the mouth of the Peiho, and,
passing the dismantled forts, ascend the river to Tientsin.

In 1858 I spent two months at Taku and Tientsin in connection with
the tedious negotiations of that year. At the latter place I became
familiar with the dusty road to the treaty temple; and at the former
witnessed the capture of the forts by the combined squadrons of
Great Britain and France. The next year on the same ground I saw
the allied forces repulsed with heavy loss--a defeat avenged by
the capture of Peking in 1860.

In the Boxer War the relief force met with formidable opposition
at Tientsin. The place has, however, risen with new splendour from
its half-ruined condition, and now poses as the principal residence
of the most powerful of the viceroys. Connected by the river with
the seaboard, by the Grand Canal with several provinces to the south,
and by rail with Peking, Hankow and Manchuria, Tientsin commands
the chief lines of
[Page 34]
communication in northern China. In point of trade it ranks as the
third in importance of the treaty ports.

Three hours by rail bring us to the gates of Peking, the northern
capital. Formerly it took another hour to get within the city.
Superstition or suspicion kept the railway station at a distance;
now, however, it is at the Great Central Gate. Unlike Nanking,
Peking has nothing picturesque or commanding in its location. On
the west and north, at a distance of ten to twenty miles, ranges
of blue hills form a feature in the landscape. Within these limits
the eye rests on nothing but flat fields, interspersed with clumps
of trees overshadowing some family cemetery or the grave of some
grandee.

Between the city and the hills are the Yuen Ming Yuen, the Emperor's
summer palace, burnt in 1860 and still an unsightly ruin, and the
Eho Yuen, the summer residence of the Empress Dowager. Enclosing
two or three pretty hills and near to a lofty range, the latter
occupies a site of rare beauty. It also possesses mountain water
in rich abundance. No fewer than twenty-four springs gush from
the base of one of its hills, feeding a pretty lake and numberless
canals. Partly destroyed in 1860, this palace was for many years as
silent as the halls of Palmyra. I have often wandered through its
neglected grounds. Now, every prominent rock is crowned with pagoda
or pavilion. There are, however, some things which the slave of the
lamp is unable to produce even at the command of an empress--there
are no venerable oaks or tall pines to lend their majesty to the
scene.

Patachu, in the adjacent hills, used to be a favourite
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summer resort for the legations and other foreigners before the
seaside became accessible by rail. Its name, signifying the "eight
great places," denotes that number of Buddhist temples, built one
above another in a winding gorge on the hillside. In the highest,
called Pearl Grotto, 1,200 feet above the sea, I have found repose
for many a summer. I am there now (June, 1906), and there I expect
to write the closing chapters of this work. These temples are at my
feet; the great city is in full view. To that shrine the emperors
sometimes made excursions to obtain a distant prospect of the world.
One of them, Kien Lung, somewhat noted as a poet, has left, inscribed
on a rock, a few lines commemorative of his visit:

"Why have I scaled this dizzy height?
Why sought this mountain den?
I tread as on enchanted ground,
Unlike the abode of men.

"Beneath my feet my realm I see
As in a map unrolled,
Above my head a canopy
Adorned with clouds of gold."

The capital consists of two parts: the Tartar city, a square of
four miles; and the Chinese city, measuring five miles by three.
They are separated by imposing walls with lofty towers, the outer
wall being twenty-one miles in circuit. At present the subject
people are permitted to mingle freely with their conquerors; but
most of the business is done in the Chinese city. Resembling other
Chinese towns in its unsavoury condition, this section contains two
imperial temples of great sanctity. One of these, the Temple of Heaven,
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has a circular altar of fine white marble with an azure dome in
its centre in imitation of the celestial vault. Here the Emperor
announces his accession, prays for rain, and offers an ox as a burnt
sacrifice at the winter solstice--addressing himself to Shang-ti,
the supreme ruler, "by whom kings reign and princes decree justice."

The Temple of Agriculture, which stands at a short distance from
that just mentioned, was erected in honour of the first man who
cultivated the earth. In Chinese, he has no name, his title, Shin-nung
signifying the "divine husbandman"--a masculine Ceres. Might we not
call the place the Temple of Cain? There the Emperor does honour
to husbandry by ploughing a few furrows at the vernal equinox.
His example no doubt tends to encourage and comfort his toiling
subjects.

Another temple associated with these is that of Mother Earth, the
personified consort of Heaven; but it is not in this locality.
The eternal fitness of things requires that it should be outside
of the walls and on the north. It has a square altar, because the
earth is supposed to have "four corners." "Heaven is round and
Earth square," is the first line of a school reader for boys. The
Tartar city is laid out with perfect regularity, and its streets
and alleys are all of convenient width.

Passing from the Chinese city through the Great Central Gate we
enter Legation Street, so called because most of the legations
are situated on or near it. Architecturally they make no show,
being of one story, or at most two stories, in height and hidden
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behind high walls. So high and strong are the walls of the British
Legation that in the Boxer War of 1900 it served the whole community
for a fortress, wherein we sustained a siege of eight weeks. A
marble obelisk near the Legation gate commemorates the siege, and
a marble gateway on a neighbouring street marks the spot where
Baron Ketteler was shot. Since that war a foreign quarter has been
marked out, the approaches to which have been partially fortified.
The streets are now greatly improved; ruined buildings have been
repaired; and the general appearance of the old city has been altered
for the better.

Two more walled enclosures have to be passed before we arrive at
the palace. One of them forms a protected barrack or camping-ground
for the palace guards and other officials attendant on the court. The
other is a sacred precinct shielded from vulgar eyes and intrusive
feet, and bears the name "Forbidden City." In the year following the
flight of the court these palaces were guarded by foreign troops,
and were thrown open to foreign visitors.

Marble bridges, balustrades, and stairways bewilder a stranger.
Dragons, phoenixes and other imaginary monsters carved on doorways
and pillars warn him that he is treading on sacred ground. The
ground, though paved with granite, is far from clean; and the
costly carvings within remind one of the saying of an Oriental
monarch, "The spider taketh hold with her hands and is in kings'
houses." None of the buildings has more than one story, but the
throne-rooms and great halls are so lofty as to suggest the dome
of a cathedral. The roofs are all covered with tiles of a
[Page 38]
yellow hue, a colour which even princes are not permitted to use.

Separated from the palace by a moat and a wall is Prospect Hill,
a charming elevation which serves as an imperial garden. On the
fall of the city in 1643 the last of the Mings hanged himself
there--after having stabbed his daughter, like another Virginius,
as a last proof of paternal affection.

From the gate of the Forbidden City to the palace officials high
and low must go on foot, unless His Majesty by special favour confers
the privilege of riding on horseback, a distinction which is always
announced in the _Gazette_ by the statement that His Majesty
has "given a horse" to So-and-So. No trolleys are to be seen in
the streets, and four-wheeled carriages are rare and recent. Carts,
camels, wheel-barrows, and the ubiquitous rickshaw are the means
of transport and locomotion. The canals are open sewers never used
for boats.

Not lacking in barbaric splendour, as regards the convenience of
living this famous capital will not compare with a country village of
the Western world. On the same parallel as Philadelphia, but dryer,
hotter, and colder, the climate is so superb that the city, though
lacking a system of sanitation, has a remarkably low death-rate.
In 1859 I first entered its gates. In 1863 I came here to reside.
More than any other place on earth it has been to me a home; and
here I am not unlikely to close my pilgrimage.

On my first visit, I made use of Byron's lines on Lisbon to express my
impressions of Peking. Though there are now some signs of improvement
in the city
[Page 39]
the quotation can hardly be considered as inapplicable at the present
time. Here it is for the convenience of the next traveller:

"...Whoso entereth within this town,
That, sheening far, celestial seems to be,
Disconsolate will wander up and down,
'Mid many things unsightly to strange ee:
For hut and palace show like filthily:
The dingy denizens are rear'd in dirt;
Ne personage of high or mean degree
Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt..."
(_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto the First_, st. xvii.)

Returning to the station we face about for the south and take tickets
for Paoting-fu. We are on the first grand trunk railway of this
empire. It might indeed be described as a vertebral column from
which iron roads will ere long be extended laterally on either side,
like ribs, to support and bind together the huge frame. Undertaken
about twelve years ago it has only recently been completed as far
as Hankow, about six hundred miles. The last spike in the bridge
across the Yellow River was driven in August, 1905, and since that
time through trains have been running from the capital to the banks
of the Yang-tse Kiang.

This portion has been constructed by a Belgian syndicate, and their
task has been admirably performed. I wish I could say as much of
the other half (from Hankow to Canton), the contract for which
was given to an American company. After a preliminary survey this
company did no work, but, under pretext of waiting for tranquil
times, watched the fluctuations of the share market. The whole
enterprise was eventually
[Page 40]
taken over by a native company opposed to foreign ownership--at an
advance of 300 per cent. It was a clever deal; but the Americans
sacrificed the credit and the influence of their country, and a
grand opportunity was lost through cupidity and want of patriotism.

This iron highway is destined in the near future to exert a mighty
influence on people and government. It will bring the provinces
together and make them feel their unity. It will also insure that
communication between the north and the south shall not be interrupted
as it might be were it dependent on sea or canal. These advantages
must have been so patent as to overcome an inbred hostility to
development. Instead of being a danger, these railways are bound
to become a source of incalculable strength.

Paoting-fu was the scene of a sad tragedy in 1900, and when avenging
troops appeared on the scene, and saw the charred bones of missionaries
among the ashes of their dwellings, they were bent on destroying
the whole city, but a missionary who served as guide begged them
to spare the place. So grateful were the inhabitants for his kindly
intervention that they bestowed on the mission a large plot of
ground--showing that, however easily wrought up, they were not
altogether destitute of the better feelings of humanity.

Continuing our journey through half a dozen considerable cities,
at one of which, Shunteh-fu, an American mission has recently been
opened, we reach the borders of the province of Honan.

[Page 41]
CHAPTER VIII

PROVINCE OF HONAN

_A Great Bridge--K'ai-fung-fu--Yellow Jews_

Passing the border city of Weihwei-fu, we find ourselves arrested
by the Hwang Ho--not that we experience any difficulty in reaching
the other bank; but we wish to indulge our curiosity in inspecting
the means of transit. It is a bridge, and such a bridge as has no
parallel on earth. Five miles in length, it is longer than any
other bridge built for the passage of a river. It is not, however,
as has been said, the longest bridge in the world; the elevated
railway of New York is a bridge of much greater length. So are
some of the bridges that carry railways across swamp-lands on the
Pacific Coast. Bridges of that sort, however, are of comparatively
easy construction. They have no rebellious stream or treacherous
quicksands to contend with. Caesar's bridge over the Rhine was an
achievement worthy to be recorded among the victories of his Gallic
wars; but it was a child's plaything in comparison with the bridge
over the Yellow River. Caesar's bridge rested on sesquipedalian
beams of solid timber. The Belgian bridge is supported on tubular
piles of steel of sesquipedalian diameter driven by steam or screwed
down into the sand to a depth of fifty feet.

There have been other bridges near this very spot
[Page 42]
with which it might be compared. One of them was called Ta-liang,
the "Great Bridge," and gave name to a city. Another was Pien-liang,
"The Bridge of Pien," one of the names of the present city of
K'ai-fung-fu. That bridge has long since disappeared; but the name
adheres to the city.

What an unstable foundation on which to erect a seat of empire!
Yet the capital has been located in this vicinity more than once
or twice within the last twenty-five centuries. The first occasion
was during the dynasty of Chou (1100 B. c.), when the king, to be
more central, or perhaps dreading the incursions of the Tartars,
forsook his capital in Shensi and followed the stream down almost
to the sea, braving the quicksands and the floods rather than face
those terrible foes. Again, in the Sung period, it was the seat
of government for a century and a half.

The safest refuge for a fugitive court which, once established
there, has no reason to fear attack by sea or river, it is somewhat
strange that in 1900 the Empress Dowager did not direct her steps
toward K'ai-fung-fu, instead of escaping to Si-ngan. Being, however,
herself a Tartar, she might have been expected to act in a way
contrary to precedents set by Chinese dynasties. Obviously, she
chose the latter as a place of refuge because it lay near the borders
of Tartary. It is noteworthy that a loyal governor of Honan at that
very time prepared a palace for her accommodation in K'ai-fung-fu,
and when the court was invited to return to Peking, he implored
her not to risk herself in the northern capital.

Honan is a province rich in agricultural, and probably
[Page 43]
in mineral, resources, but it has no outlet in the way of trade.
What a boon this railway is destined to be, as a channel of
communication with neighbouring provinces!

I crossed the Yellow River in 1866, but there was then no bridge
of any kind. Two-thirds of a mile in width, with a furious current,
the management of the ferry-boat was no easy task. On that occasion
an object which presented stronger attractions than this wonderful
bridge had drawn me to K'ai-fung-fu--a colony of Jews, a fragment
of the Lost Tribes of Israel. As mentioned in a previous chapter, I
had come by land over the very track now followed by the railroad,
but under conditions in strong contrast with the luxuries of a
railway carriage--"Alone, unfriended, solitary, slow," I had made my
way painfully, shifting from horse to cart, and sometimes compelled
by the narrowness of a path to descend to a wheelbarrow. How I
longed for the advent of the iron horse. Now I have with me a jovial
company; and we may enjoy the mental stimulus of an uninterrupted
session of the Oriental Society, while making more distance in
an hour than I then made in a day.

Of the condition of the Jews of K'ai-fung-fu, as I found them,
I have given a detailed account elsewhere.[*] Suffice it to say
here that the so-called colony consisted of about four hundred
persons, belonging to seven families or clans. Undermined by a
flood of the Yellow River, their synagogue had become ruinous,
and, being unable to repair it, they had disposed of its timbers
to relieve the pressure of their dire poverty.
[Page 44]
Nothing remained but the vacant space, marked by a single stone
recording the varying fortunes of these forlorn Israelites. It
avers that their remoter ancestors arrived in China by way of India
in the Han dynasty, before the Christian era, and that the founders
of this particular colony found their way to K'ai-fung-fu in the
T'ang dynasty about 800 A. D. It also gives an outline of their
Holy Faith, showing that, in all their wanderings, they had not
forsaken the God of their fathers. They still possessed some rolls
of the Law, written in Hebrew, on sheepskins, but they no longer
had a rabbi to expound them. They had forgotten the sacred tongue,
and some of them had wandered into the fold of Mohammed, whose
creed resembled their own. Some too had embraced the religion of
Buddha.

[Footnote *: See "Cycle of Cathay." Revell & Co., New York.]

My report was listened to with much interest by the rich Jews of
Shanghai, but not one of them put his hand in his pocket to rebuild
the ruined synagogue; and without that for a rallying-place the
colony must ere long fade away, and be absorbed in the surrounding
heathenism, or be led to embrace Christianity.

I now learn that the Jews of Shanghai have manifested enough interest
to bring a few of their youth to that port for instruction in the
Hebrew language. Also that some of these K'ai-fung-fu Jews are
frequent attendants in Christian chapels, which have now been opened
in that city. To my view, the resuscitation of that ancient colony
would be as much of a miracle as the return from captivity in the
days of Cyrus.

[Page 45]
CHAPTER IX

THE RIVER PROVINCES

_Hupeh--Hankow--Hanyang Iron Works--A Centre of Missionary
Activity--Hunan--Kiangsi--Anhwei--Native Province of Li Hung Chang_

By the term "river provinces" are to be understood those provinces
of central and western China which are made accessible to intercourse
and trade by means of the Yang-tse Kiang.

Pursuing our journey, in twelve hours by rail we reach the frontier
of Hupeh. At that point we see above us a fortification perched on
the side of a lofty hill which stands beyond the line. At a height
more than double that of this crenelated wall is a summer resort of
foreigners from Hankow and other parts of the interior. I visited
this place in 1905. In Chinese, the plateau on which it stands is
called, from a projecting rock, the "Rooster's Crest"; shortened
into the more expressive name, the "Roost," it is suggestive of the
repose of summer. It presents a magnificent prospect, extending
over a broad belt of both provinces.

Six hours more and we arrive in Hankow, which is one of three cities
built at the junction of the Han and the Yang-tse, the Tripolis of
China, a tripod of empire, the hub of the universe, as the Chinese
fondly regard it. The other two cities are Wuchang, the capital
[Page 46]
of the viceroyalty, and Hanyang, on the opposite bank of the river.

In Hankow one beholds a Shanghai on a smaller scale, and in the
other two cities the eye is struck by indications of the change
which is coming over the externals of Chinese life.

At Hanyang, which is reached by a bridge, may be seen an extensive
and well-appointed system of iron-works, daily turning out large
quantities of steel rails for the continuation of the railway. It
also produces large quantities of iron ordnance for the contingencies
of war. This is the pet enterprise of the enlightened Viceroy Chang
Chi-tung; but on the other side of the Yang-tse we have cheering
evidence that he has not confined his reforms to transportation and
the army. There, on the south bank, you may see the long walls and
tall chimneys of numerous manufacturing establishments--cotton-mills,
silk filatures, rope-walks, glass-works, tile-works, powder-works--all
designed to introduce the arts of the West, and to wage an industrial
war with the powers of Christendom. There, too, in a pretty house
overlooking the Great River, I spent three years as aid to the viceroy
in educational work. In the heart of China, it was a watch-tower from
which I could look up and down the river and study the condition
of these inland provinces.

This great centre was early preempted by the pioneers of missionary
enterprise. Here Griffith John set up the banner of the cross forty
years ago and by indefatigable and not unfruitful labours earned
for himself the name of "the Apostle of Central China."
[Page 47]
In addition he has founded a college for the training of native
preachers. The year 1905 was the jubilee of his arrival in the
empire. Here, too, came David Hill, a saintly man combining the
characters of St. Paul and of John Howard, as one of the pioneers
of the churches of Great Britain. These leaders have been followed
by a host who, if less distinguished, have perhaps accomplished
more for the advancement of the Kingdom of Christ. Without the
cooeperation of such agencies all reformatory movements like those
initiated by the viceroy must fall short of elevating the people
to the level of Christian civilisation.

The London Mission, the English Wesleyans, and the American
Episcopalians, all have flourishing stations at Wuchang. The Boone
school, under the auspices of the last-named society, is an admirable
institution, and takes rank with the best colleges in China.

At Hankow the China Inland Mission is represented by a superintendent
and a home for missionaries in transit. At that home the Rev. J.
Hudson Taylor, the founder of that great society, whom I call the
Loyola of Protestant missions, spent a few days in 1906; and there
Dr. John and I sat with him for a group of the "Three Senior
Missionaries" in China.

The river provinces may be divided into lower and upper, the
dividing-line being at Ichang near the gorges of the Yang-tse. Hupeh
and Hunan, Kiangsi and Anhwei occupy the lower reach; Szechuen,
Kweichau, and Yuennan, the upper one. The first two form one viceregal
district, with a population exceeding that of any European country
excepting Russia.

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