THE FRENCH MISSION AND THE ARSENAL IN YUNNAN CITY.
The most prominent structure within the city walls is the Heavenly Lord
Hall (_Tien-chu-tang_), the pile of buildings which form the
headquarters of the French Mission in the province of Yunnan. It was a
master-stroke to secure possession of so important a site. The palace is
on a higher level even than the yamen of the Viceroy, and must intercept
much of the good fortune that would otherwise flow into the city. The
façade of the central hall has been ornamented with a superb cross of
porcelain mosaic, which is a conspicuous object from the city wall. A
large garden, where the eucalyptus has been wisely planted, surrounds
the buildings. In residence in the Heavenly Hall are the venerable
Vicaire Apostolique of the province, Monseigneur Fenouil, the
Provicaire, and four missionary priests, all four of whom are from
Alsace. In the province altogether there are twenty-two French priests
and eight ordained Chinese priests--thirty in all; their converts number
15,000. Monseigneur Fenouil is a landmark of Western China; he first set
foot in the province in 1847, and is the oldest foreign resident in the
interior of China. No Chinaman speaks purer Chinese than he; he thinks
in Chinese. Present in the province throughout the Mohammedan
insurrection, he was an eye-witness of the horrors of religious warfare.
Few men have had their path in life marked by more thrilling episodes.
He was elected Bishop, in 1880, by the unanimous vote of all the priests
in the province, a vote confirmed by Rome; which is, I am told, the mode
of election by which Catholic Missionary Bishops in China are always
chosen.
The grand old Bishop seemed much amused at my journey. "I suppose you
are riding a mule," he said, "for you English have large bones, and the
Chinese ponies are very small." I said that I had come so far most of
the way on foot. "You speak Chinese, of course?"
"Hardly at all; I speak only a dozen words of Chinese."
"Then you have a Chinese interpreter? No! An English companion who can
speak Chinese? No! A Chinese servant who can speak English? No, and no
escort! But without doubt you are armed? No! No escort, no revolver, no
companion, and you can live on Chinese food. Ah! you have a brave heart,
Monsieur."
At the time of my visit to Yunnan, Père de Gorostarza, the accomplished
Provicaire, was absent at Mungtze deciding a question of discipline.
Four months before one of the most trusted converts of the mission had
been sent to Mungtze to purchase a property for the use of the mission.
He was given the purchase-money of 400 taels, but, when he arrived in
Mungtze, and the eye of the mission was no longer upon him, he invested
the money, not in premises for the mission, but in a coolie-hong for
himself. His backsliding had availed him little. And he was now
defending his conduct as best he could before the Bishop's deputy.
Converts of the French mission in China, it is well to remember, are no
longer French subjects or _protégés_; the objection is no longer
tenable that the mission shields bad characters who only become
converted in order to escape from the consequences of their guilt.
How wonderful has been the pioneer work done by the Jesuit Missionaries
in China! It may almost be said that the foundation of all that we know
about China we owe to the Jesuit Missionaries. All maps on China are
founded upon the maps of the Jesuit Missionaries employed for the
purpose by the Emperor Kanghi (1663-1723), "the greatest prince who ever
graced the throne of China." Their accuracy has been the wonder of all
geographers for a century past. "Now that the 'Great River' (the
Yangtse) has been surveyed," says Captain Blakiston, "for nearly 1600
miles from the ocean, and with instruments and appliances such as were
unknown in the days of those energetic and persevering men, no small
praise is due to the first Christian explorers for the extraordinary
correctness of their maps and records." The reports of the early Jesuit
Missionaries even Voltaire describes as the "productions of the most
intelligent travellers that have extended and embellished the fields of
science and philosophy."
Yet we, as Protestants, are warned by a great missionary that we must
not be deluded by these insidious compliments; we must not forget that
the work of the Jesuits in China "overtops all other forms of
superstition and error in danger, and stands forth an organised
conspiracy against the liberties of mankind. The schemes of the Jesuits
must be checked."
One Sunday morning Mr. Jensen and I rode round the city wall. This is
one of the most massive walls in a country of walled cities. It is built
of brick and stone over a body of earth thirty feet thick; it is of
imposing height, and wide enough for a carriage drive. When I was
mounted on my mule the upper edge of the parapet was on a level with my
forehead. There are six city gates. The great north gate is closely
barred all through the rains to prevent the entrance of the "Flood God,"
who, fortunately, his intelligence being limited, knows no other way to
enter the city than by this gate. The great turreted south gate is the
most important of all, as it is in all Chinese cities. Near this gate
the Viceroy's Yamen is situated, and the Yamen of the Futai (Governor of
the Province); both buildings, of course, looking to the south, as did
the Temple of Solomon and the tombs of the Mings, and as Chinese custom
requires that every building of importance shall do, whether temple or
yamen, private residence or royal palace. But why should they look
south? Because from the south the sun comes, bringing with it "genial
and animating influence," and putting new life into plant and animal
after the winter.
The south gate is a double gate in a semi-circular bastion. Beyond it is
a splendid triumphal arch erected by a grateful community to the memory
of the late viceroy. A thickly-populated suburb extends from here to the
wide common, where stands the lofty guardian pagoda of the city, 250
feet high, a conspicuous sight from every part of the great Yunnan
plain. Rich temples are all around it, their eaves hung with sweet-toned
bells, which tinkle with every breath of wind, giving forth what the
Chinese poetically describe as "the tribute of praise from inanimate
nature to the greatness of Buddha."
[Illustration: THE PAGODA OF YUNNAN CITY, 250 FEET HIGH.]
In the early morning the traveller is awakened by the steam whistle of
the arsenal, a strange sound to be heard in so far inland a city in
China. The factory is under Chinese management, a fact patent to any
visitor. Its two foremen were trained partly in the arsenal in Nanking
under Dr. Macartney (now Sir Halliday Macartney), and partly in the
splendid Shanghai arsenal under Mr. Cornish. I went to the arsenal, and
was received as usual in the opium-room. There was nothing to conceal,
and I was freely shown everything. The arsenal turns out Krupp guns of
7-1/2 centimetres calibre, but the iron is inferior, and the workmen are
in need of better training. Cartridges are also made here. And in one
room I saw two men finishing with much neatness a pure silver opium-tray
intended for the Fantai (provincial treasurer), but why made in the
arsenal only a Chinaman could tell you. Work in the furnace is done at a
disadvantage owing to the shortness of the furnace chimney, which is
only 25 feet high. All attempts to increase its height are now forbidden
by the authorities. There was agitation in the city when the chimney was
being heightened. Geomancers were consulted, who saw the feeling of the
majority, and therefore gave it as their unprejudiced opinion that, if
the chimney were not stunted, the _fungshui_ (good luck) of the Futai's
yamen (provincial governor), and of that portion of the city under its
protection, would depart for ever. All the machinery of the arsenal is
stamped with the name of Greenwood, Battley and Co., Leeds. Rust and
dirt are everywhere, and the 100 workmen for whom pay is drawn never
number on the rare pay days more than sixty persons, a phenomenon
observed in most establishments in China worked by government. Yet with
a foreigner in charge excellent work could be turned out from the
factory. The buildings are spacious, the grounds are ample.
The powder factory is outside the city, near the north-eastern angle of
the wall, but the powder magazine is on some rising ground inside the
city. No guns are stationed anywhere on the walls, though they may be in
concealment in the turrets; but near the small west gate I saw some
small cannon of ancient casting, built on the model of the guns cast by
the Jesuit missionaries in China two centuries ago, if they were not the
actual originals. They were all marked in relief with a cross and the
device I.H.S.--a motto that you would think none but a Chinaman could
select for a weapon designed to destroy men, yet characteristic of this
country of contradictions. "The Chinese statesman," says Wingrove Cooke,
the famous _Times_ correspondent, "cuts off 10,000 heads, and cites a
passage from Mencius about the sanctity of human life. He pockets the
money given him to repair an embankment and thus inundates a province,
and he deplores the land lost to the cultivator of the soil."
Du Halde tells us that "the first Chinese cannon were cast under the
directions of Père Verbiest in 1682, who blest the cannon, and gave to
each the name of a saint." "A female saint!" says Huc.
Near the arsenal and drill ground there is a large intramural swamp or
reedy lake, the reeds of which have an economic value as wicks for
Chinese candles. Dykes cross the swamp in various directions, and in the
centre there is a well known Taoist Temple, a richly endowed edifice,
with superior gods and censers of great beauty. Where the swamp deepens
into a pond at the margin of the temple, a pretty pavilion has been
built, which is a favourite resort of the Yunnan gentry. The most _chic_
dinner parties in the province are given here. The pond itself swarms
with sacred fish; they are so numerous that when the masses move the
whole pond vibrates. Many merits are gained by feeding the fish, and,
as it happened at the time of my visit that I had no money, I was
constrained to borrow fifteen cash from my chair coolies, with which I
purchased some of the artificial food that women were vending and threw
it to the fish, so that I might add another thousand to the innumerable
merits I have already hoarded in Heaven.
Upon a pretty wooded hill near the centre of the city is the Confucian
Temple, and on the lower slope of the hill, in an admirable position,
are the quarters of the China Inland Mission, conducted by Mr. and Mrs.
X., assisted by Mr. Graham, who at the time of my visit was absent in
Tali, and by two exceedingly nice young girls, one of whom comes from
Melbourne. The single ladies live in quarters of their own on the edge
of a swamp, and suffer inevitably from malarial fever. Mr. X. "finds the
people very hard to reach," he told me, and his success has only been
relatively cheering. After labouring here nearly six years--the mission
was first opened in 1882--he has no male converts, though there are two
promising nibblers, who are waiting for the first vacancy to become
adherents. There _was_ a convert, baptised before Mr. X. came here, a
poor manure-coolie, who was employed by the mission as an evangelist in
a small way; but "Satan tempted him, he fell from grace, and had to be
expelled for stealing the children's buttons." It was a sad trial to the
mission. The men refuse to be saved, recalcitrant sinners! but the women
happily are more tractable. Mr. X. has up to date (May, 1894), baptised
his children's nurse girl, the "native helper" of the single ladies, and
his wife's cook. Mr. X. works hard, far too hard. He is of the type that
never can be successful in China. He was converted when nearing middle
age, is narrow and uncompromising in his views, and is as stern as a
Cameronian. It is a farce sending such men to China. At his services
there is never any lack of listeners, who marvel greatly at the new
method of speaking Chinese which this enterprising emissary--in London
he was in the oil trade--is endeavouring to introduce into the province.
Of "tones" instead of the five used by the Chinese, he does not
recognise more than two, and these he uses indifferently. He hopes,
however, to be understood by loud speaking, and he bellows at the placid
coolies like a bull of Bashan.
I paid an early visit to my countrymen at the _Yesu-tang_ (Jesus Hall),
the mission home, as I thought that my medical knowledge might be of
some service. I wished to learn a little about their work, but to my
great sorrow I was no sooner seated than they began plying me with
questions about the welfare of my soul. I am a "poor lost sinner," they
told me. They flung texts at my head, and then sang a terrifying ballad,
by which I learnt for the first time the awful fate that is to be mine.
It is something too dreadful to contemplate. And the cheerful equanimity
with which they announced it to me! I left the _Yesu-tang_ in a cold
sweat, and never returned there.
Missionary work is being pursued in the province with increasing vigour.
Among its population of from five to seven millions, spread over an area
of 107,969 square miles, there are eighteen Protestant missionaries,
nine men and nine ladies (this is the number at present, but the usual
strength is twenty-three). Stations are open at Chaotong (1887),
Tongchuan (1891), Yunnan City (1882), Tali (1881), and Kuhtsing (1889).
The converts number--the work, however, must not be judged by
statistics--two at Chaotong, one at Tongchuan, three at Yunnan City,
three at Tali, and two at Kuhtsing.
That the Chinese are capable of very rapid conversion can be proved by
numberless instances quoted in missionary reports on China. The Rev. S.
F. Woodin (in the _Records_ of the Missionary Conference, 1877, p. 91)
states that he converted a "grossly immoral Chinaman, who had smoked
opium for more than twenty years," simply by saying to him "in a spirit
of earnest love, elder brother Six, as far as I can see, you must
perish; you are Hell's child."
Mr. Stanley P. Smith, B.A., who was formerly stroke of the Cambridge
eight, had been only seven months in China when he performed that
wonderful conversion, so applauded at the Missionary Conference of 1888,
of "a young Chinaman, a learned man, a B.A. of his University," who
heard Mr. Smith speak in the Chinese that can be acquired in seven
months, and "accepted Him there and then." (_Records_ of the Missionary
Conference, 1888, i., 46). Indeed, the earlier the new missionaries in
China begin to preach the more rapid are the conversions they make.
Now, in this province of Yunnan, conversions will have to be infinitely
more rapid before we can say that there is any reasonable hope of the
proximate conversion of the province. The problem is this: In a
population of from five to seven millions of friendly and peaceable
people, eighteen missionaries in eight years (the average time during
which the mission stations have been opened), have converted eleven
Chinese; how long, then, will it take to convert the remainder?
"I believe," said a late member of the House of Commons, who was once
Lord Mayor of London, speaking at the anniversary meeting of the China
Inland Mission in 1884, "I believe God intends to accomplish great
things in China," and, undoubtedly, the opinion of an ex-Lord Mayor on
such a subject is entitled to great weight.
"The Gospel," he said, "is making rapid progress in China.... We are
amazed at the great things God hath wrought" (in the conversion of the
Chinese).
Let us examine for a moment an instance of the rapid progress which
excited the amazement of this good man. No missionary body in China is
working with greater energy than the China Inland Mission. Their
missionaries go far afield in their work, and they are, what their
mission intends them to be, pioneer Protestant missionaries in Inland
China. At the present time, the beginning of 1894, the Inland Mission
numbers 611 male and female missionaries. They are assisted by 261 paid
native helpers, and the combined body of 872 Evangelists baptised during
the year just passed (1893) 821 Chinese. These figures, taken from
_China's Millions_, 1894, p. 122, attest a rather lower rate of progress
than the other missions can boast of; but a considerable part of the
inland work, it must be remembered, is the most difficult work of
all--the preaching of the Gospel for the first time in newly-opened
districts.
[Illustration: THE VICEROY OF THE TWO PROVINCES OF YUNNAN AND KWEICHOW.]
The Viceroy of the two provinces of Yunnan and Kweichow, Wong-wen-shao,
is one of the most enlightened rulers in China. No stranger could fail
to be impressed with his keen intellectual face and courtly grace of
manner. His career has been a distinguished one. Good fortune attended
him even at his birth. He is a native of Hangchow, in Chehkiang, a city
famous in China for its coffins. Every Chinaman will tell you that true
felicity consists in three things: to be born in Peking (under the
shadow of the Son of Heaven); to live in Soochow (where the girls are
prettiest); and to die in Hangchow (where the coffins are grandest).
Twelve years ago he was Governor of the province of Hunan. Called then
to Peking as one of the Ministers of State of the "Tsungli Yamen," or
Foreign Office, he remained there four years, his retirement being then
due to the inexorable law which requires an official to resign office
and go into mourning for three years on the death of one of his parents.
In this case it was his mother. (A Chinese mother suckles her child two
and a half years, and, as the age of the child is dated from a time
anterior by some months to birth, the child is three years old before it
leaves its mother's breast. Three years, therefore, has been defined as
the proper period for mourning.) At the termination of the three years,
Wong was reappointed Governor of Hunan, and a year and a half later, in
May, 1890, he was appointed to his present important satrapy, where he
has the supreme control of a district larger than Spain and Portugal,
and with a population larger than that of Canada and Australia combined.
In May, 1893, he made application to the throne to be allowed to return
to his ancestral home to die, but the privilege was refused him.
Before leaving Yunnan city the Mandarin Li kindly provided me with a
letter of introduction to his friend Brigadier-General Chang-chen Nien,
in Tengyueh. Since it contained a communication between persons of rank,
the envelope was about the size of an ordinary pillow-slip. The General
was presumably of higher rank than the traveller; I had, therefore, in
accordance with Chinese etiquette, to provide myself with a suitable
visiting card of a size appropriate to his importance. Now Chinese
visiting cards differ from ours in differing in size according to the
importance of the person to whom they are to be presented. My ordinary
card is eight inches by three, red in colour--the colour of
happiness--and inscribed in black with the three characters of my
Chinese name. But the card that I was expected to present to the
General was very much larger than this. Folded it was of the same size,
but unfolded it was ten times the size of the other (eight by thirty
inches), and the last page, politely inscribed in Chinese, contained
this humiliating indication of its purport: "Your addlepated nephew
Mo-li-son bows his stupid head, and pays his humble respects to your
exalted Excellency."
[Illustration]
I still have this card in my possession; and I should be extremely
reluctant to present it to any official in the Empire of lower rank than
the Emperor.