The Chinaman is big, broad-shouldered, and his nervous system is more
developed. The Japanese is before all things a man of action. He lives
in a perpetual state of motion, he is always doing, and works from
morning till night. His marvellous vital power finds expression in a
multitude of ways. He acts hastily, often too hastily to give himself
time to consider his actions. The Chinaman, on the contrary, is
reflective. Before he undertakes anything he thinks out every detail of
it, and his intelligence thus greatly reduces his actual labour. The
Chinese coolies and labourers are like so many intelligent machines.
They work imperturbably, with systematic precision, and always attain
their end. Instructive instances of this may be seen among the Chinese
labourers abroad, where a Chinaman does the work of two Europeans with
half the trouble. The secret of the advantage which they thus gain over
their Western rivals lies first in the right distribution of labour, and
secondly in that great moral quality which ensures their success, namely
temperance. The Chinese working in the fields of California, in the
gardens of Australia, or as miners in South America, are good examples
of the vitality and energy which these people possess.
It is foolish to say--as I have often heard it said--that the advantage
lies simply in the stronger constitution of the race; on the contrary,
very often we must admit that the true advantage lies in their
intellectual superiority. These national characteristics may be best
observed in the lower classes, and particularly in the domestic servant.
Every European residing in China acknowledges the superiority of the
native servant above any other. He is quiet in his movements,
intelligent, industrious; and it is almost incredible how quickly these
Chinese peasants learn to anticipate the wishes of their European
masters. At the foreign Embassies at Pekin and at the Consulates of the
interior, I observed how the pigtailed cook prepares the most delicate
dishes according to the latest art in French cooking; the blue-robed
house-servant keeps the establishment in perfect order, and the day
labourer performs his task with accurate precision.
But it is on a journey that we have the best opportunity for learning to
appreciate the salient qualities of the Chinese servant. Far in the
interior, in lonely, barren regions, our yellow companion always found
ways and means to prepare a warm meal for us, and to improvise a tent
or hut wherein we could pass the night. The missionaries in China tell
many stories of the marvellous resourcefulness of their Chinese
attendants; how they saved the itinerant pastor from dying of hunger and
thirst; how, if there was nothing better to be had, they would catch a
few sparrows and make a savoury dish of these tiny birds. And, if even
tiny birds failed, they would make pasties of locusts or a dinner from
leaves and grasses.
Of the Chinaman it may be said with truth that he never gives in. This,
indeed, is one of the chief characteristics of his race. He is
resourceful even where the European has given up in despair. And we must
have the courage to face this truth. The recent hostility against the
Chinese coolies in San Francisco, and the laws against yellow labour
lately put in force in Australasia, are the expression of it. It is true
that among the Chinese labourers abroad there are many spoiled
characters, drunkards and card-players; but I venture to think that it
was not out of consideration for them that the decrees were issued which
prevent the Chinese coolie from enriching the public-houses in America
and Australia through his intemperate habits, nor yet to save him from
wasting his substance in the foul quarters of the harbour towns. No; all
these measures rather indicate the existence of a racial jealousy, for
as a rule the Chinaman is more industrious and more temperate than the
European. The question of Chinese labour has in our times become one of
the economic problems of the Far East, of America and Australia, and
recently also of South Africa. However, this is not the place to enter
further into this question. Here, as relating to our subject, it is only
of importance to note that the coolie who belongs to the lowest class of
Chinese society, although he is poor, has fewer wants, and receives
smaller wages, than the labourer of any other country, does not on that
account do less work or work of an inferior quality. On the contrary,
both intellectually and physically, he is generally not behind his
social equals of other nationalities.
[Illustration: IN THE FLOWERY LAND "The coolie, who belongs to the
lowest class of Chinese society, although he is poor, has fewer wants,
and receives smaller wages, does not on that account do less work" To
face page 344]
Very marked also are the virtues of the Chinese tradespeople and
merchants; in other words, of the lower middle class. Here again, what
strikes one most is the amount of work done and the indefatigable zeal
of the people. In the second place we note with surprise the simplicity
of their way of living, their evident contentment with the bare
necessities of life, even among the fairly well-to-do, and their desire
to be and abide in the state of life in which they have been born. The
joiner's son becomes a joiner, the builder's son a builder. Only by way
of exception does a Chinaman strike out in a new direction. The
height of his ambition is, at most, to become a better joiner or a
better builder than his father was before him--to improve in quality
more than in quantity. Another prominent feature of the Chinese trader
is his respect for his caste. As in Japan with the Daimios and Samurais,
whose moral basis was a military one, the pledged word was sacred, and
the white flag inviolable, so the peaceable trader of China, whose life
is governed by the civil code, is always true to his bargain. There is
scarcely an instance on record in which a Chinese tradesman has broken
his word. In the large commercial towns, overcrowded with merchants and
goods from all parts of the world, written contracts with Chinamen are
hardly ever thought necessary. Market prices and rates of exchange may
vary--and in many cases the local producer incurs heavy losses by a
premature selling of the harvest to the European agent--but when a sale
is once concluded, a Chinaman never attempts to evade his obligations.
European bankers and wholesale dealers tell us that the difference
between China and Japan in this respect is great. In the case of the
latter, unfilled engagements and arrears of payment are a standing rule
in the ledger accounts of most Continental firms, and considerable loss
is sometimes incurred by these houses through the avarice and the
subtle devices of some traders. The Japanese to a certain extent, in
imitation of the Latin nations, aims at becoming rich, or at least
well-to-do, quickly. It is his object to amass sufficient wealth, by a
few profitable speculations, to enable him to retire into private life.
The Chinaman, on the contrary--like the Anglo-Saxon--makes trade his
vocation in life. "Life is business," he says.
And so in China as in England, or perhaps even more in America, the
industrial classes and the merchants have become the ruling power in the
country. Socially they constitute a privileged class. As in Anglo-Saxon
states the Chambers of Commerce and the Trade Unions, so in China the
ancient Guilds arrange all business matters for themselves. The Guilds,
indeed, are a most important institution in Chinese society. Their
influence is not confined to trade and commerce; it dominates many other
relations in life, and the often secret resolutions passed by the Guilds
are of great force in matters of local administration and general
politics.
Some of the larger Guild or Club houses are well worth our attention.
From an architectural point of view they are good specimens of old
Chinese style. They generally consist of several buildings, or more
correctly, of a row of halls and pagodas, separated by flower-gardens
with small fishponds, and courts with shady groves. Besides the official
departments there are conversation-halls and tea-rooms, much frequented
by the members after the transaction of business. The most magnificent
of these houses are found in the interior, in the cities on the Hoang-ho
and the Yang-tze-kiang. The club-house of the tea-merchants at Hankau
ranks first in point of artistic perfection. It is a good specimen of
the national taste. Slender pagodas, china towers, trim gardens, boldly
arched bridges, all harmonious in form and colour, testify to the
marvellous creative genius of this people. Never have I seen such finely
pointed, tent-shaped roofs, such delicately tapered gables, such
carving, and such tracery. Never could I have believed it possible for
any architect to build, in fragile clay and line pottery, such
bastion-like walls, and towers reaching up into the sky, and surmounted
by a roof of porcelain as delicate and rare as a precious teacup. These
Guild-houses are truly store-houses of old Chinese art treasures, and in
them receptions and dramatic performances often take place.
Among the musical and theatrical entertainments of China, there are some
which continue from morning till night. On their merit, however, a
European can hardly be expected to pass a fair judgment. The queerness
and quaintness of the performance is what strikes one most at first. Yet
among the old dramatists there were many of first-rate talent, and life
and knowledge of the world were very forcibly expressed by them, but in
a form unfamiliar to the European mind. The Chinese, we think, are
sometimes too realistic and somewhat formal actors; but yet, even in
their modern, degenerate, historical pieces, we find frequent traces of
the prehistoric ideals of the Greek drama.
The musical accompaniment of the performance is no less interesting.
Contrary to the generally accepted idea that the Chinese have no feeling
for music, I venture to think that Chinese music, although it may be
discordant and unpleasing to the European ear, is not without great
merits. We should not forget that the Chinese musical scale is set quite
differently from ours, and is offensive to us chiefly because it is
unfamiliar. But notwithstanding its deafening shrillness, it has great
rhythmical power; and after all it only sounds harsh to us on account of
its complexity. It must not be forgotten that their musical tones are
not, as in the West, divided into two, but into four parts. In fact,
they have not only half, but third and fourth gradations.
The same with regard to their plastic art--the foreigner is easily apt
to consider the external form only. He appreciates or rejects it
according as it comes up to our Western standard of beauty or not, but
does not stop to look at it from the national cultural point of view.
And yet it is impossible to understand Chinese art without doing so. In
China art was confined to experts, while in Japan it acquired an
ever-increasing popular character. But the Chinese is by far the higher
form of art. The Chinese have always been the teachers and pioneers in
all matters of thought and creative genius in the Far East.
Architecture, sculpture, painting, with all their various ramifications,
date back to the remote ages of Chinese antiquity. What we have on
record of the time of the first emperors gives us some idea of their
refinement and of the art treasures then already in existence, and of
still greater value in this respect are the few known monuments of the
Shung Dynasty and of the subsequent Mongol period.
Interesting above all are remains of buildings dating back to the Ming
Age, which still exist in considerable numbers. Chinese art surprises
one principally on account of its force and of the originating power
manifested by it. In their colossal structures we chiefly admire the
height of the pagodas, the length of the bridges; we are struck by the
earnestness of the conception, the magnitude of the design, the
masterful execution, the concentration of thought; all these appeal to
us even now, in their dilapidated condition. The Imperial Palace at
Pekin, although in ruins, is still one of the most magnificent
structures in the world. And the same might be said of all other
branches of art. We see it in the old bronze statues, in the delicate
porcelain work, the exquisite carvings, and the precious cut stones.
These relics in themselves may leave us cold, design and colour may not
be to our taste, but the artistic idea, and above all the artistic
ideal, underlying all these masterpieces, and the power of execution,
cannot fail to impress any one at all interested in art.
We must remember that although the Chinese conception of art is so
different from ours, the interest of it to us lies not exclusively in
the productions themselves, but rather in the mind which produced them.
The longer we associate with the Chinese the more we feel attracted to
them, the more we recognize their worth, embodied in the versatile
spheres of art and culture. In process of time we learn to appreciate,
not only the civilization of Chinese antiquity--which was centuries in
advance of ours, and had already reached a high state of development
when Europe was still peopled by wild, unknown hordes--but we also begin
to appreciate the different embodiments of that strange culture too.
When we study the history of the people in the days of their glory, or
read the biographies of their great emperors, we almost become
reconciled even to the inferiority of their existing form of government.
Only as we glance through the works of their sages and great writers,
who lived many centuries before our era, do we get a somewhat clearer
idea of the intellectual capacity of this race, whose culture extended
beyond their own boundaries far into neighbouring lands; penetrated to
the uttermost borders of the East, and finally--making its way across
Korea--laid the foundation of Japanese civilization.
This primeval culture has crumbled away. Only here and there among the
ruins do we find glowing fragments and brilliant pieces of it; but even
these remnants fill us with genuine wonder, and are eloquent witnesses
to the greatness and strength of the nation's genius.
What has remained strong, above all, to this day, amid the complete
general disorganization, is the race itself, as such. The prejudice
against the Chinese may still be as general as ever, yet one cannot help
drawing attention to the fact that neglected, uneducated, and wretched
as the population is at present, there are everywhere abundant proofs of
unflagging energy and exceptional capacity for work. These two
characteristics strike one most forcibly among the lower classes, while
among the partisans of the European movement, the progressive mercantile
middle class, or among the scientists, scholars, and statesmen, who
still occupy the old classical standpoint, a rare power of perception
and intellectual development is worthy of recognition.
The greatest living statesman of China is undoubtedly Chang-chi-Tung.
His influence as viceroy of the two important provinces of Hupek and
Hunan is supreme. Since the death of Li Hung-Chang he ranks first in the
estimation of his countrymen. He may not possess an equally keen insight
and the extraordinary knowledge of human nature which the late viceroy
had at his command, and he may lack his political shrewdness, but from a
moral point of view Chang-chi-Tung occupies an incomparably higher
level. He is not only a statesman, but he is also a sage and a
philosopher. He is a follower of Confucius and every inch a patriot. He
is said to encourage Confucianism among his countrymen, but he is
tolerant towards other religious convictions, and within the radius of
his colossal viceregal dominions, hospitality is shown to all, including
Christians. In politics he is moderate, and although conservative in
principle, he favours practical reforms and innovations, as may be
gathered from the many industrial establishments in his capital.
Personally he owns cotton-mills and factories, built a few years ago by
Belgian engineers, which, under European management, have from the first
yielded good results. Gradually the foreign employes have been replaced
by natives, and at present the whole administration of this extensive
concern is in the hands of natives.
The mercantile spirit of this enterprising viceroy is not in any way
inferior to his political genius. Brick-kilns, china-, glass-, and
iron-works and gun-factories, besides a whole network of railways, have
been established under his administration. His soldiers, instructed by
German officers, are probably the best drilled and best organized troops
of the empire, and his well-equipped, excellently armed cavalry is the
pride of the land. His energies, however, are more particularly centred
upon the educational problem. He favours practical instruction, and in
order to further this, he proposes to convert some of the unused pagodas
into schools. Chang-chi-Tung, himself a writer of no mean order, is
perhaps the best read, and certainly the most influential Chinese author
living. His work entitled "China's Only Hope," published shortly after
the last war with Japan, caused a great sensation. Several million
copies were issued, and the Emperor himself wrote a dedication for it.
This book is of great interest, not only for the Chinese, but also for
us, because it throws a strong side-light upon the character of the
author and upon the party to which at present the most important portion
of the Chinese belong.
A few extracts will give some idea of the tendency of the work:--
"Comparing the history of China during the last two years with the
history of Europe during the last fifty years, the question
involuntarily arises whether the governments of Western states can
furnish examples of benevolence, self-sacrifice, and loyalty equal to
ours.
"Although China is not as rich as Europe, its people, whether rich or
poor, high or low, enjoy greater freedom. European states may be very
powerful, their ruling classes very rich, but the labouring population
is disproportionately poor and miserable, and frequently unjustly dealt
with. A system of government which ignores such social contrasts, or
rather, which creates them, can never be an example for us to follow."
Elsewhere he says:--
"The standpoint of the West is practical; we, on the contrary, are
idealistic. Our sages and our scholars have taught us that the happiness
of a nation consists in the well-being of its people. Our religions
teach us equality and charity; our customs, the organization of our
family life, all social institutions, point to this one thing; to make
the millions of our people contented."
Again, in another passage, speaking of inventions, he says:--
"I do not contest the technical superiority of the West. I myself am a
promoter of progress, but I do not desire that our institutions, which
have stood for centuries, should be transformed all in a moment. I note
with satisfaction--speaking of progress--that the same elements which at
first raged so fiercely against the introduction of railways and steam
navigation, have now become the most staunch supporters of these useful
inventions."
An equally interesting specimen of a modern Chinaman's opinion of
European affairs, is a pamphlet which appeared some years ago, in the
English language, under the title of "Letters from a Viceroy's
Residence."
The author is a young Celestial who spent many years in the West, and
upon his return was appointed secretary to one of the viceroys. The
object of these letters was, in the first place, to convince his master
of the fact that, in spite of his long residence in the West, he had
remained a good patriot. In the second place, he hoped to awaken the
interests of the Queen Regent. Several of these letters appeared first
in the columns of an English newspaper, published in Japan, and
unquestionably praise is due to the author, Ku-hung-ming, at least for
his zeal in making himself acquainted with the various languages and
literatures of Western lands. The power of his discernment and
discrimination may be seen from the manner in which he points out what
there is defective, puerile, and unintelligible amongst us. When he
condemns shortcomings he generally does so by quoting our own writers
against us, and he exposes our mistakes to the merciless scourge of our
own criticism. There is not a writer, a statesman, or a philosopher, of
any note, to whom he does not in some way or other appeal. He concludes
an elaborate study of the civilizations of the West and the East with
the words of Carlyle: "Europe is an Anarchy, with a policeman at its
head"; and he quotes Ruskin, to apply to China the theory that "culture
means a society of cultured beings."
"To the ordinary European trader it seems no doubt a strange thing that
we should object to what he describes as the opening out of our national
resources. Viewing everything, as he habitually does, from the
standpoint of profit and loss, he conceives that if it can be shown that
a certain course will lead to the increase of wealth, it follows that
that is the course that ought to be adopted. The opening of China to his
country and his trade he believes will have this result; and he
concludes that it is our interest to welcome rather than to resist his
enterprise. From his point of view he is justified; but his point of
view is not ours. We are accustomed, before adopting any grave measures
of policy, to estimate their effects, not merely on the sum total of our
wealth, but (which we conceive to be a very different thing) on our
national well-being. You, as always, are thinking of the means of
living, we, of the quality of the life lived. And when you ask us, as
you do in effect, to transform our whole society, to convert ourselves
from a nation of agriculturists to a nation of traders and
manufacturers, to sacrifice to an imaginary prosperity our political and
economic independence, and to revolutionize, not only our industry, but
our manners, morals, and institutions, we may be pardoned if we first
take a critical look at the effects which have been produced among
yourselves by the conditions you urge us to introduce in China."
This statement is of peculiar interest as showing that with regard to
European innovations China occupies a position diametrically opposed to
that of Japan. Evidently China is not blind where European conditions
are concerned. The Chinese do not ignore the material and technical
advantages and achievements of Europe. They realize with tolerable
clearness the superior material conditions which modern life offers.
The only point upon which they are not clear is how far all these
innovations help us to make life more tolerable, and how far they
contribute to the inner satisfaction or happiness of the people.
"I have learned that the most brilliant discoveries, the most fruitful
applications of inventive genius, do not of themselves suffice for the
well-being of society, and that an intelligence which is concentrated
exclusively on the production of labour-saving machines, may easily work
more harm for the dislocation of industry than it can accomplish good by
the increase of wealth. For the increase of wealth--that is, of the
means of comfort--is not to my mind necessarily good in itself;
everything depends on the way in which the wealth is distributed and on
its effect on the moral character of the nations. And it is from that
point of view that I look with some dismay upon the prospect of the
introduction of Western methods into China."
The author then describes at some length, and perhaps in somewhat too
glowing terms, the cheerfulness, the contentment, the philosophy, the
joy of living of the Chinese people. He speaks of the strong bond of
affection which unites families, their literary and artistic tastes,
their deep-rooted love of nature, all of which stand them in such good
stead in time of trouble.
"All this is peculiar to our nature, it is the basis of our inner
contentment, a contentment which no one can give, but which may easily
be taken from us."
Even for the much-criticized, and unquestionably corrupt institution of
the state, the loyal patriot has a few condoning words:--