Part 2
It will cost more money perhaps to send students to England than to the United States, but there are plenty of wealthy men, and still more of women, who are willing to make sacrifices to give their sons and daughters the best possible education, if they realize that they will really get it by coming over here. If only those who come have either friends to look after them, or apply to the Anglo-Chinese Friendship Society, there will not be the disappointment which some have experienced in past times. In Shanghai I was told that students returning with diplomas from England had no difficulty in finding satisfactory posts at once, and are in greater demand than those from America.
France has now entered the lists, and there are some two thousand students in France, most of whom are studying textile manufactures. They have been sent over by the Government, the cost being defrayed by the French remission of the remainder of the Boxer indemnity, and half the cost of the journey is paid by France.
In order to accommodate so many students, the French have had to make special provision, and I met a party of students who originally came to study in England, but were obliged to go to France because they could find no room in English colleges. This is a most deplorable state of affairs.
A French professor, whom I met on the journey out, was welcomed in Peking by old students who attended his lectures at the Sorbonne, and he told me afterwards of the extraordinary warmth of their reception and recognition of indebtedness for his teaching. When he left they told him that they were sending him a tribute of gratitude; some months later he received a very costly cloisonné vase, made expressly for him and bearing an inscription, with the names of the donors incorporated in the design. The professor, when he showed me the vase and its case, was evidently deeply impressed by this unique experience in a long teaching career.
Peking is a most fascinating city, and the new and old jostle one another strangely. Some writers tell you the old has quite vanished, but they are entirely wrong: even the old camel caravans—than which nothing can be more picturesque—may be seen wending their leisurely way beneath its ancient walls, to the clanking music of their bells. The city dates back to two hundred years B.C., and it has been the real capital of the Empire since the thirteenth century A.D. It consists of two cities, called the Outer and the Inner City; they lie side by side—one square and one rectangular. Each city is surrounded by its own wall: that of the Inner being thirty-seven feet high, fifty-two feet wide at the top, and it is thirteen miles in extent. The other city wall is not so lofty. Sixteen great gateways lead into this marvellous city, where within another wall is the old Imperial City. The legation hotels, post offices (there are _six foreign_ post offices), shops and banks, etc., and also a native business quarter, are all in the Inner city, which is becoming very cosmopolitan, and is increasing rapidly. The numerous Government buildings are all in the Inner city—Council of State, Foreign Office, Finance, Home, Communications, Navy, War, Judiciary, Education, Agriculture and Commerce Departments.
Peking is now becoming a great centre of Western learning, and the Rockefeller Institution aims at becoming the main School of Medicine and Scientific Research in China. Its beautiful roofs, in the old Chinese style, have been built regardless of cost: two million gold dollars will not cover the initial expense of this place, and money has been poured out like water to secure not only the best equipment, but also the best brains.
Fine modern roads are being made, and automobiles are (for the wealthy) taking the place of the old slow-going cart and sedan chair; but economy will prevent these and the ricksha from going out of fashion.
The beginnings of industrial life are to be seen in the Government Industrial Factory, where there are five hundred apprentices; the Private Industrial Factory, the Match Factory, the Electric Company (which supplies the city with electric light), and the Tobacco Manufacturing Company—but Peking has never been an industrial centre, nor is it suited to become one.
Peking was so cold and snowy that we were glad to go south after a couple of days, and broke our journey at Tsinanfu. What changes have taken place since first I knew it only twelve years ago! Then it was smarting under German occupation; now it is under a still heavier yoke, and every one says “would we were under the Germans rather than the Japanese!” The latter seem to be far more grasping, and have no lack of funds for securing the things which they do not dare to seize by force. Commerce is one of their main objects, and they are pushing it with feverish zeal, so as to establish themselves securely as traders while they hold undisputed possession. It is sad to think that the militarist party in Japan has at the present time such complete control of her destinies, and that the finest part of the nation, while utterly condemning their policy, is incapable of influencing it. More than once I heard from reliable sources that this party considers that nothing less than foreign force can break the militarism of Japan. Wherever we went, even to the remotest parts of the empire, there is a growing hatred of Japan, and it almost seems as if this were the most potent factor in strengthening and unifying China. In one sense it may be looked on as a blessing in disguise! It certainly is calling out all the hitherto latent patriotism of young China.
The approach by railway to Tsinan suggests a busy manufacturing town; tall chimneys, Chamber of Commerce, big post offices, banks, public buildings, wide well-paved roads, with big houses and gardens, form large suburbs outside the city wall. It is a strange contrast to the old-world city, with its narrow picturesque streets and the lovely lake where wild birds haunt the sedgy islands—
“Here long ago ... When to the lake’s sun-dimpled marge the bright procession wends, The languid lilies raise their heads as though to greet their friends.”
—WANG CH’ANG LING—_circa_ A.D. 750.
Oh, there is a charm in China found nowhere else! You pass out of thronged streets into calm poetic retreats where the turmoil of life is hushed; for a brief spell life stands still.
But one turns back into the city, with its teeming inhabitants. A very up-to-date city it is, with its schools, hospitals, museums, arsenal, barracks, and soldiers’ institute,[2] etc., etc. Its commercial interests are increasing by leaps and bounds, now that it is linked by the railways with Peking and Tientsin on the north, with Nanking and Shanghai on the south, and with Chingtao and the sea on the east. But what interested us most of all was the Shantung Christian University, with its School of Medicine, one of the most important schools in China. It is emphatically a union college, being supported by nine different missions, British, Canadian and American. The teaching staff is approximately twenty-six, and the students about one hundred, with some forty-five in the pre-medical department of the School of Arts and Science. Already more than one hundred graduates are practising in Mission, Government and Civil employment.
The training is of a high order, each member of the faculty a specialist in his own department: the teaching is in Mandarin Chinese, but all the students learn English, largely on account of having access to English textbooks. The large well-appointed hospital may not be so imposing in appearance as some of the American institutions, but it is second to none in the work done within its walls. The approximate annual cost of the medical school is Mex. $225,000 (£25,000). It is of paramount importance that all British educational work in China to-day should be impeccable in quality, but the problem is where to find the necessary men and money.
Far more than five million dollars have been spent in building and equipping mission hospitals in China,[3] and it is high time that native men of means should take up the work, either by supporting such institutions as the above, or by undertaking similar ones. The Government of China is only beginning this herculean task, but in many respects it is better that private initiative should be active in hospital work, because the human touch is of infinite value where suffering humanity is concerned.
An interesting extension work has recently become part of the university, namely the Institute, and has proved a great draw to people of all classes. It was originally started by the British Baptist Mission at Tsingchoufu in 1887; it is a sort of glorified museum for the special purpose of making known Western ideas on all the varied sides of life, and promoting a spirit of brotherhood. You go into an airy, well-lighted hall and are confronted with glass cases containing models such as are not to be found elsewhere, and as interesting as they are novel. For instance, there is a large wooded surface with a heavy shower of rain (in the shape of fine glass rods) falling on it, while alongside are barren rocky slopes, bespeaking the land where no rain falls. Who could possibly look at this exhibit without asking the meaning, especially when there is some one at hand eager to talk about afforestation? Incidentally, it may be mentioned that the Government is beginning to take up this subject in all parts of China, and sorely needs the intelligent interest and co-operation of the people in order to ensure success.
A thrilling new exhibit is the work of the Red Cross during the war, containing two hundred separate models, starting with the firing-line and ending with the convalescent wards of the hospital. Little model figures engaged in all sorts of war-work are a source of continual delight to the spectators, who throng the hall every day of the week. “What are they doing to that dog?” says an inquisitive woman. No words can paint her astonishment when she hears that it is a wounded war-dog being carefully bandaged. Lectures on Red Cross work have been listened to with deepest interest, while demonstrations in bandaging were given by nurses attached to the University hospital. An audience of three hundred girls heard what other girls have been doing in the war. Then, too, Boy Scouts learn what part they can play in national service. The History of Hygiene is well illustrated, and the greengrocer and butcher see what happens when a luscious melon or beefsteak is visited by flies. Much has already been done by these striking models to awaken a wholesome fear in the minds of the people. During epidemics most valuable advice has been promulgated from the Institute both by lectures and literature. All the admirable models are made in the workshop of the Institute, under the clever superintendence of Mr. Whitewright, its head and founder. There are models of hospitals, churches, cemeteries, museums, streets of England, which act as texts for explanation.
On the walls are diagrams and comparative tables of statistics, illustrating a great variety of subjects, and specially calculated to awaken the attention of the Chinese to relative conditions between their country and others. That it has more than fulfilled its object is obvious by the effect it has had not only on society in general but also in the special interest it has aroused in the Chinese educational authorities. Their representatives have repeatedly come to see the Institute and to study its methods, and from it educational work of considerable importance has radiated far and wide.
There is a separate department for students of Government colleges, and they have their own reading-room, recreation-room and classroom. This department shows fifteen thousand attendances in the year. An important part of the work of the Institute is the encouragement of friendly relations between the staff and all sections of the community. Visits are arranged for parties of officers, merchants, police, Mohammedans, etc., when receptions are held specially interesting to these people, followed by lectures and cinematograph shows.
This is truly a wide-minded piece of missionary enterprise. The catholic spirit, which thus shows Christianity animating every part of human life, is a fine corrective to some of the narrow sectarian missions which still abound. Millions of people have visited the Institute, and more workers are needed to carry forward this splendid religious and educational venture.
I heard interesting details at Tsinanfu about the returned coolies from the Great War. There was a reading-room for them, and it was amusing to see the recruiting placards by which they had been attracted to the ranks. When first the idea of coolie labour was started in Shantung the British consuls were directed to arrange for recruiting, but they drew a blank. What did the Chinese coolie know of the value of a consul’s promises: he had no personal knowledge of him, and the proposition was an entirely novel one. So the missionary was set to tackle the problem, and he had to explain the scheme and show how the coolie’s family would profit by having a regular and sure source of income during his absence. The tide was turned: as many recruits were forthcoming as were needed, indeed far more. Germany spread a malicious propaganda, that the Chinese were placed in the firing-line to protect our troops. Our Government countered with cinema shows in which the people could recognize their men working in France. A time of dearth emphasized the value of their new income. Men returning from France told their experiences, and most significant of all was the universal expression of willingness to repeat the service in case of need.
I have said so much elsewhere about the city of Tsinanfu[4] that I shall pass on to our next stopping-place—Shanghai. We stayed at the Missionary Home, up the North Szechuen Road, a boarding-house with very moderate prices, which is the rendezvous for missionaries from all parts of the empire. It was most useful to us to be in touch with them, and we revised our itinerary in consequence, and were able to do many interesting things which we should otherwise not have done. Not only missionaries frequent it, but others also, for it is very helpful to any travellers going off the beaten track to be in such a centre of information. For people not knowing the language all needful help is provided in meeting steamers and trains, for which the most moderate charge is made.
Shanghai is the strangest medley of incongruities, but extraordinarily interesting, because it has become the common meeting-ground of all nationalities and the natural centre for great movements. It is the most accessible spot for conferences, being linked by its railways and waterways with all parts of the empire, so that it may almost be considered geographically as the heart of China; but it would perhaps be more accurate to describe it as the skin, or surface, whereby all the interior is related to the outer world. Less than eighty years ago it was merely an insignificant Chinese town, but in 1842 the Chinese Government made it an open port; a British concession was granted—to be followed by French and American ones. Soon the British concession was internationalized, and in course of time became so popular among the Chinese that to-day far more than half the Chinese population of Shanghai is found in it, and of course this far exceeds the foreign population. Its government is rather remarkable; the municipal council is composed of nine foreigners of several nationalities, who are responsible for the self-government of the community. In their hands is the exclusive police control (how dignified the Sikh police are and how picturesque!), the drainage, lighting, roadmaking, sanitation, taxation, control of markets, etc. Each nationality has its own judicial court, and there is the Mixed Court for the settlement of cases between Chinese and foreigners. This extra-territoriality has long been a source of soreness with the Chinese, and has acted as a spur to the reforms now going on in their judicial system. The French alone have continued to keep to a settlement of their own, which is run on similar lines.
Shanghai has naturally become the base of all sorts of experiments, and has a special value to the empire on that account. It is an object-lesson in self-government of no small value. Round it have sprung up mills of all sorts, and shipbuilding on foreign lines, and of course its shipping links it with every part of the globe. In another chapter I shall refer to its value as an educational centre.
An interesting experiment has been successfully made (by an entirely Chinese firm) of our western methods in social welfare (so new to us also) for dealing with employees. The Commercial Press was founded in 1896 to meet the rapidly growing demand for handbooks in Chinese on all sorts of subjects of western knowledge. It grew so rapidly that its branches are to be found in all the large cities of the empire, while its publications reach to the remotest towns. But to me one of its chief interests is to be found in the relations between its officials and staff, which consists of over one thousand persons. In the fine central building the fourth floor has a large dining-room, where three hundred of the employees have their meals, and there is a roof garden for their benefit. The workpeople are well paid, they receive bonuses according to their services, and are entitled to pensions on retirement: when employees die their necessitous families receive pay. There is a savings department which pays nine per cent. interest. There are school and hospital facilities for employees and their families, and they can join Y.M.C.A. and other institutions at a cheapened rate. Special arrangements are made for women at the time of childbirth, and a sum of money is given them at the beginning and end of the time they are absent from work on that account. Babies being nursed are allowed to be brought in to be fed by the mother during work hours. The hours of work are limited to nine per day, and there is a garden in which the workers can spend their leisure time.
Another institution in Shanghai which greatly interested me was a Cantonese Baptist Institutional Church, which I attended one Sunday morning. It was extremely attractive, not only in its setting, but most of all in its human qualities. I arrived while Sunday school was still going on, and saw boys and girls of all ages in classrooms, and scattered about in the big hall. The teachers were, with one or two exceptions, Chinese, and looked thoroughly competent for their tasks. “They are the best workers I have ever met,” said Miss Lyne, my guide. The sight of a stranger was quite a matter of indifference to both teachers and taught, and had no effect on their concentrated attention. An American lady took me all over the building, which seemed admirably suited to its purpose. Upstairs was a large bright room—the chapel—electric lighted, and with a baptistery which was the gift of one of the members in memory of his wife. In the kindergarten the sweetest babes had been making tulips. The hall below is used for a gymnasium, games and other purposes. Religious plays are very popular, and my guide said that although she came prepared to disapprove of them, she had been converted by seeing how they seemed to make the Bible so much more real to the people. A very interesting detail of the place was the excellent bathrooms and sanitary arrangements, hot and cold water laid on, the whole supplied by a thoroughly up-to-date Scotch firm. This section was entirely due to the wish of the young people, who had raised the funds ($300) for it themselves. The building was in a nice garden, with tennis courts and other facilities for games.
The most interesting part of the morning was the service, despite the fact that I do not understand Chinese. The men sat on one side and the women on the other, but there was no partition, and men and girls respectively took up the collection on their own side of the hall. A Chinaman conducted the service, and the singing was hearty and reverent, without any starchiness. After the sermon, candidates for baptism were brought forward, each one by his or her sponsor, for the Church’s approval before admission to the rite; they had been already examined and under training for some two years. Some of the candidates were quite young, others grown up: the pastor’s son and another boy were about eleven years old. They were asked a variety of practical questions by the pastor, but when it came to his own son, he said, “Will some one else ask little brother’s son?” and this was accordingly done. After this the Church members voted as to whether they should receive baptism. I asked if the vote was ever adverse, and was told it was not infrequently the case, although they were not recommended for baptism till they were considered ready.
There are so many Cantonese in Shanghai that missionaries find it necessary to have special work amongst them: they are like a different race, with a different language.
There are all sorts of interesting things to be seen in Shanghai, but it takes time, and the only other place of special interest we saw was the old native city, just the same picturesque, dirty, crowded spot that it was hundreds of years ago, surrounded by its three-and-a-half-mile wall, of which the gates are still shut at night. The old willow-pattern tea-house I was glad to see is still intact, also the garden from which the lovers fled who were turned into doves. It is not safe to venture into the old city unaccompanied, and the beggars are truly awful.
From Shanghai I visited the neighbouring province of Chekiang, which is considered one of the most beautiful by many people. The capital, _Hangchowfu_, can be reached both by water and by rail, and I much regret that I only went by rail, as an economy of time: it was a mistake, for by all accounts the waterway is most lovely. The journey takes three or four hours by rail and eighteen by boat. As one passes through mulberry groves and wide-stretching rice fields, one sees most picturesque groups of buildings, standing up on slightly raised ground, like oases in the flat land, and lofty sails move slowly across the landscape. In the soft glow of evening light it was perfectly enchanting. We passed near two walled cities, but the railway lines as a rule do not break through such walls, and it is in many ways more convenient to have the station outside the cities. I could not but regret that this rule had been broken in the case of Hangchow, where the railway station was an ugly, though imposing, modern building, erected close to the breach in the wall through which the line enters the city.