WEIHAIWEI AND THE SHANTUNG PROMONTORY
As applied to the territory leased by China to Great Britain the word
Weihaiwei is in certain respects a misnomer. The European reader
should understand that the name is composed of three separate Chinese
characters, each of which has a meaning of its own.[5] The first of
the three characters (transliterated _Wei_ in Roman letters) is not
the same as the third: the pronunciation is the same but the "tone"
is different, and the Chinese symbols for the two words are quite
distinct. The first _Wei_ is a word meaning Terrible, Majestic,
or Imposing, according to its context or combinations. The word
_hai_ means the Sea. The combined words Weihai Ch'êng or Weihai
City, which is the real name of the little town that stands on the
mainland opposite the island of Liukung, might be roughly explained
as meaning "City of the August Ocean," but in the case of Chinese
place-names, as of personal names, translations are always unnecessary
and often meaningless. The third character, _Wei_, signifies a Guard
or Protection; but in a technical sense, as applied to the names of
places, it denotes a certain kind of garrisoned and fortified post
partially exempted from civil jurisdiction and established for the
protection of the coast from piratical raids, or for guarding the
highways along which tribute-grain and public funds are carried through
the provinces to the capital.
A _Wei_ is more than a mere fort or even a fortified town. It often
implies the existence of a military colony and lands held by military
tenure, and may embrace an area of some scores of square miles. Perhaps
the best translation of the term would be "Military District." The Wei
of Weihai was only one of several Wei established along the coast of
Shantung, and like them it owed its creation chiefly to the piratical
attacks of the Japanese. More remains to be said on this point in the
next chapter; here it will be enough to say that the Military District
of Weihai was established in 1398 and was abolished in 1735. From that
time up to the date of the Japanese occupation in 1895 it formed part
of the magisterial (civil) district of Wên-têng, though this does not
mean that the forts were dismantled or the place left without troops.
In strictness, therefore, we should speak not of Weihaiwei but of
Weihai, which would have the advantage of brevity: though as the old
name is used quite as much by the Chinese as by ourselves there is no
urgent necessity for a change. But in yet another respect the name
is erroneous, for the territory leased to Great Britain, though much
larger than that assigned to the ancient Wei, does not include the
walled city which gives its name to the whole. The Territory, however,
embraces not only all that the Wei included except the city, but also
a considerable slice of the districts of Wên-têng and Jung-ch'êng. It
should therefore be understood that the Weihaiwei with which these
pages deal is not merely the small area comprised in the old Chinese
Wei, but the three hundred square miles (nearly) of territory ruled
since 1898 by Great Britain. We shall have cause also to make an
occasional excursion into the much larger area (comprising perhaps a
thousand square miles) over which Great Britain has certain vague
military rights but within which she has no civil jurisdiction.
A glance at a map of eastern Shantung will show the position of the
Weihaiwei Territory (for such is its official designation under
the British administration) with regard to the cities of Wên-têng
(south), Jung-ch'êng (east), and Ning-hai (west). Starting from the
most easterly point in the Province, the Shantung Promontory, and
proceeding westwards towards Weihaiwei, we find that the Jung-ch'êng
district embraces all the country lying eastward of the Territory;
under the Chinese _régime_ it also included all that portion of what is
at present British territory which lies east of a line drawn from the
sea near the village of Shêng-tzŭ to the British frontier south of the
village of Ch'iao-t'ou. All the rest of the Territory falls within the
Chinese district of which Wên-têng is the capital. Jung-ch'êng city is
situated five miles from the eastern British frontier, Wên-têng city
about six miles from the southern. The magisterial district of Ning-hai
has its headquarters in a city that lies over thirty miles west of the
British western boundary. The official Chinese distances from Weihaiwei
city to the principal places of importance in the neighbourhood are
these: to Ning-hai, 120 _li_; to Wên-têng, 100 _li_; to Jung-ch'êng,
110 _li_. A _li_ is somewhat variable, but is generally regarded as
equivalent to about a third of an English mile. The distance to Chinan,
the capital of the Shantung Province, is reckoned at 1,350 _li_, and to
Peking (by road) 2,300 _li_.[6]
The mention of magisterial districts makes it desirable to explain,
for the benefit of readers whose knowledge of China is limited, that
every Province (there are at present eighteen Provinces in China
excluding Chinese Turkestan and the Manchurian Provinces) is subdivided
for administrative purposes into _Fu_ and _Hsien_, words generally
translated by the terms Prefecture and District-Magistracy. The
prefects and magistrates are the _fu-mu-kuan_ or father-and-mother
officials; that is, it is they who are the direct rulers of the
people, are supposed to know their wants, to be always ready to listen
to their complaints and relieve their necessities, and to love them
as if the relationship were in reality that of parent and children.
That a Chinese magistrate has often very queer ways of showing his
paternal affection is a matter which need not concern us here. In
the eyes of the people the _fu-mu-kuan_ is the living embodiment of
imperial as well as merely patriarchal authority, and in the eyes of
the higher rulers of the Province he is the official representative
of the thousands of families over whom his jurisdiction extends. The
father-and-mother official is in short looked up to by the people as
representing the Emperor, the august Head of all the heads of families,
the Universal Patriarch; he is looked down to by his superiors as
representing all the families to whom he stands _in loco parentis_.[7]
A district magistrate is subordinate to a prefect, for there are
several magistracies in each prefecture, but both are addressed as
_Ta lao-yeh_. This term--a very appropriate one for an official who
represents the patriarchal idea--may be literally rendered Great Old
Parent or Grandfather; whereas the more exalted provincial officials,
who are regarded less as parents of the people than as Servants of the
Emperor, are known as _Ta-jên_: a term which, literally meaning Great
Man, is often but not always appropriately regarded as equivalent to
"Excellency."
All the district-magistracies mentioned in connexion with Weihaiwei are
subordinate to a single prefecture. The headquarters of the prefect,
who presides over a tract of country several thousand square miles in
extent, are at the city of Têng-chou, situated on the north coast of
Shantung 330 _li_ or about 110 miles by road west of Weihaiwei. The
total number of prefectures (_fu_) in Shantung is ten, of magistracies
one hundred and seven. As Shantung itself is estimated to contain
56,000 square miles of territory,[8] the average size of each of the
Shantung prefectures may be put down at 5,600 and that of each of
the magistracies at about 520 square miles. The British territory
of Weihaiwei being rather less than 300 square miles in extent is
equivalent in area to a small-sized district-magistracy. The functions
of a Chinese district magistrate have been described by some Europeans
as somewhat analogous to those of an English mayor, but the analogy is
very misleading. Not only has the district magistrate greater powers
and responsibilities than the average mayor, but he presides over a far
larger area. He is chief civil officer not only within the walls of the
district capital but also throughout an extensive tract of country that
is often rich and populous and full of towns and villages.
The eastern part of the Shantung Peninsula, in which Weihaiwei and
the neighbouring districts of Jung-ch'êng, Wên-têng and Ning-hai
are situated, is neither rich nor populous as compared with the
south-western parts of the Province. The land is not unfertile, but the
agricultural area is somewhat small, for the country is very hilly.
Like the greater part of north China, Shantung is liable to floods and
droughts, and local famines are not uncommon. The unequal distribution
of the rainfall is no doubt partly the result of the almost total
absence of forest. Forestation is and always has been a totally
neglected art in China, and the wanton manner in which timber has been
wasted and destroyed without any serious attempt at replacement is one
of the most serious blots on Chinese administration, as well as one
of the chief causes of the poverty of the people.[9] If north China
is to be saved from becoming a desert (for the arable land in certain
districts is undoubtedly diminishing in quantity year by year) it will
become urgently necessary for the Government to undertake forestation
on a large scale and to spend money liberally in protecting the
young forests from the cupidity of the ignorant peasants. The German
Government in Kiaochou is doing most valuable work in the reforestation
of the hills that lie within its jurisdiction, and to a very modest
extent Weihaiwei is acting similarly. Perhaps the most encouraging sign
is the genuine interest that the Chinese are beginning to take in these
experiments, though it is difficult to make them realise the enormous
economic and climatic advantages which forestation on a large scale
would bring to their country.
It must have been the treelessness of the district and the waterless
condition of the mountains as viewed from the harbour and the sea-coast
that prompted the remark made in an official report some years ago
that Weihaiwei is "a colder Aden"; and indeed if we contemplate the
coast-line from the deck of a steamer the description seems apt enough.
A ramble through the Territory among the valleys and glens that
penetrate the interior in every direction is bound to modify one's
first cheerless impressions very considerably. Trees, it is true, are
abundant only in the immediate neighbourhood of villages and in the
numerous family burial-grounds; but the streams are often lined with
graceful willows, and large areas on the mountain-slopes are covered
with green vegetation in the shape of scrub-oak. At certain seasons of
the year the want of trees is from an æsthetic point of view partly
atoned for by the blended tints of the growing crops; and certainly
to the average English eye the waving wheat-fields and the harvesters
moving sickle in hand through the yellow grain offer a fairer and more
home-like spectacle than is afforded by the marshy rice-lands of the
southern provinces. On the whole, indeed, the scenery of Weihaiwei is
picturesque and in some places beautiful.[10] The chief drawback next
to lack of forest is the want of running water. The streams are only
brooks that can be crossed by stepping-stones. In July and August, when
the rainfall is greatest, they become enormously swollen for a few
days, but their courses are short and the flood-waters are soon carried
down to the sea. In winter and spring some of the streams wholly
disappear, and the greatest of them becomes the merest rivulet.
The traveller who approaches Weihaiwei by sea from the east or south
makes his first acquaintance with the Shantung coast at a point
about thirty miles (by sea) east of the Weihaiwei harbour. This is
the Shantung Promontory, the Chinese name of which is Ch'êng Shan
Tsui or Ch'êng Shan T'ou. Ch'êng Shan is the name of the hill which
forms the Promontory, while _Tsui_ and _T'ou_ (literally Mouth and
Head) mean Cape or Headland. Before the Jung-ch'êng magistracy was
founded (in 1735) this extreme eastern region was a military district
like Weihaiwei. Taking its name from the Promontory, it was known as
Ch'êng-shan-wei.
[Illustration: THE MANG-TAO TREE (see p. 384).]
[Illustration: A HALT IN YÜ-CHIA-K'UANG DEFILE (see p. 18).]
Ch'êng Shan, with all the rest of the present Jun-ch'êng district, is
within the British "sphere of influence"; that is to say, Great Britain
has the right to erect fortifications there and to station troops:
rights which, it may be mentioned, have never been exercised.
The Shantung Promontory has been the scene of innumerable shipwrecks,
for the sea there is apt to be rough, fogs are not uncommon, and
there are many dangerous rocks. The first lighthouse--a primitive
affair--is said to have been erected in 1821 by a pious person named
Hsü Fu-ch'ang; but long before that a guild of merchants used to light
a great beacon fire every night on a conspicuous part of the hill.
A large bell was struck, so the records state, when the weather was
foggy. The present lighthouse is a modern structure under the charge of
the Chinese Imperial Customs authorities. Behind the Promontory--that
is, to the west (landward) side--there is a wide stretch of
comparatively flat land which extends across the peninsula. It may be
worth noting that an official of the Ming dynasty named T'ien Shih-lung
actually recommended in a state paper that a canal should be cut
through this neck of land so as to enable junks to escape the perils of
the rock-bound Promontory. He pointed out that the land was level and
sandy and that several ponds already existed which could be utilised
in the construction of the canal. Thus, he said, could be avoided the
great dangers of the rocks known as Shih Huang Ch'iao and Wo Lung Shih.
The advice of the amateur engineer was not acted upon, but his memorial
(perhaps on account of its literary style) was carefully preserved and
has been printed in the Chinese annals of the Jung-ch'êng district.
These annals contain an interesting reference to one of the two groups
of rocks just named. Wo Lung Shih means "Sleeping dragon rocks," and
no particular legend appears to be attached to them, though it would
have been easy to invent one. But the Shih Huang Ch'iao, or Bridge of
the First Emperor, is regarded by the people as a permanent memorial
of that distinguished monarch who in the third century B.C. seized the
tottering throne of the classic Chou dynasty and established himself as
the First Emperor (for such is the title he gave himself) of a united
China. Most Europeans know nothing of this remarkable man except that
he built the Great Wall of China and rendered his reign infamous by the
Burning of the Books and the slaughter of the scholars. Whether his
main object in the latter proceeding was to stamp out all memory of the
acts of former dynasties so that to succeeding ages he might indeed be
the First of the historical Emperors, or whether it was not rather an
act of savagery such as might have been expected of one who was not
"born in the purple" and who derived his notions of civilisation from
the semi-barbarous far-western state of Ch'in, is perhaps an impossible
question to decide: and indeed the hatred of the Chinese _literati_ for
a sovereign who despised literature and art may possibly have led them
to be guilty of some exaggeration in the accounts they have given us of
his acts of vandalism and murder.
During his short reign as Emperor, Ch'in Shih Huang-ti (who died in
210 B.C.) is said to have travelled through the Empire to an extent
that was only surpassed by the shadowy Emperor Yü who lived in the
third millennium B.C. Yü was, according to tradition, the prince of
engineers. He it was who "drained the Empire" and led the rivers into
their proper and appropriate channels. The First Emperor might be said,
had he not affected contempt for all who went before him, to have taken
the great Yü as his model, for he too left a reputation of an ambitious
if not altogether successful engineer. The story goes that he travelled
all the way to the easternmost point of Shantung, and having arrived at
the Promontory, decided to build a bridge from there to Korea, or to
the mysterious islands of P'êng-lai where the herb of immortality grew,
or to the equally marvellous region of Fu-sang.
The case of the First Emperor affords a good example of how wild myths
can be built up on a slender substratum of fact. Had he lived a few
centuries earlier instead of in historic times, his name doubtless
would have come down the ages as that of a demi-god; even as things
are, the legends that sprang up about him in various parts of northern
China might well be connected with the name of some prehistoric hero.
The Chinese of eastern Shantung have less to say of him as a monarch
than as a mighty magician. In order to have continuous daylight for
building the Great Wall, he is said to have been inspired with the
happy device of transfixing the sun with a needle, thus preventing it
from moving. His idea of bridge-building had the simplicity of genius:
it was simply to pick up the neighbouring mountains and throw them
into the sea. He was not without valuable assistance from persons
who possessed powers even more remarkable than his own. A certain
spirit helped him by summoning a number of hills to contribute their
building-stone. At the spirit's summons, so the story goes, thirteen
hills obediently sent their stones rolling down eastwards towards the
sea. On came the boulders, big and little, one after another, just as
if they were so many live things walking. When they went too slowly or
showed signs of laziness the spirit flogged them with a whip _until the
blood came_.
The truth of this story, in the opinion of the people, is sufficiently
attested by the facts that one of the mountains is still known as
Chao-shih-shan or "Summon-the-rocks hill," and that many of the stones
on its slopes and at its base are reddish in hue.[11] The Emperor was
also helped by certain Spirits of the Ocean (_hai-shên_), who did
useful work in establishing the piers of his bridge in deep water.[12]
The Emperor, according to the story, was deeply grateful to these Ocean
Spirits for their assistance, and begged for a personal interview
with them so that he might express his thanks in proper form. "We are
horribly ugly," replied the modest Spirits, "and you must not pay us a
visit unless you will promise not to draw pictures of us." The Emperor
promised, and rode along the bridge to pay his visit. When he had gone
a distance of forty _li_ he was met by the Spirits, who received him
with due ceremony. During the interview, the Emperor, who like Odysseus
was a man of many wiles, furtively drew his hosts' portraits on the
ground with his foot. As luck would have it the Spirits discovered what
he was doing, and naturally became highly indignant. "Your Majesty has
broken faith with us," they said. "Begone!" The Emperor mounted his
horse and tried to ride back the way he had come, but lo! the animal
remained rigid and immovable, for the Spirits had bewitched it and
turned it into a rock; and his Majesty had to go all the way back to
the shore on foot.[13]
This regrettable incident did not cause the cessation of work on the
bridge, though the Emperor presumably received no more help from
the Spirits of the Ocean. But on one unlucky day the Emperor's wife
presumed without invitation to pay her industrious husband a visit,
and brought with her such savoury dishes as she thought would tempt
the imperial appetite. Now the presence of women, say the Chinese, is
utterly destructive of all magical influences. The alchemists, for
example, cannot compound the elixir of life in the presence of women,
chickens, or cats. The lady had no sooner made her appearance at Ch'êng
Shan than the bridge, which was all but finished, instantaneously
crumbled to pieces. So furious was her imperial spouse at the ruin
of his work that he immediately tore the unhappy dame to pieces and
scattered her limbs over the sea-shore, where they can be seen in
rock-form to this day. The treacherous rocks that stretch out seawards
in a line from the Promontory are the ruins of the famous bridge, and
still bear the name of the imperial magician.
[Illustration: THE TEMPLE AT THE SHANTUNG PROMONTORY (see p. 23).]
Legends say that a successor of the First Emperor, namely Han Wu
Ti (140-87 B.C.), who also made a journey to eastern Shantung, was
ill-advised enough to make an attempt to continue the construction of
the mythical bridge; but he only went so far as to set up two great
pillars. These are still to be seen at ebb-tide, though the uninitiated
would take them to be mere shapeless rocks. Han Wu Ti's exploits were
but a faint copy of those of the First Emperor. Ch'êng Shan Tsui has
for many centuries been dedicated to that ruler's memory, and on its
slopes his temple may still be visited. The original temple, we are
told, was built out of part of the ruins of the great bridge. In 1512
it was destroyed by fire and rebuilt on a smaller scale. Since then
it has been restored more than once, and the present building is
comparatively new.
There is no legend, apparently, which associates the First Emperor
with the territory at present directly administered by Great Britain,
but there is a foolish story that connects him with Wên-têng Shan, a
hill from which the Wên-têng district takes its name. It is said that
having arrived at this hill the Emperor summoned his civil officials
(_wên_) to ascend (_têng_) the hill in question and there proclaim
to a marvelling world his own great exploits and virtues; but this
story is evidently a late invention to account for the name Wên-têng.
Among other localities associated with this Emperor may be mentioned a
terrace, which he visited for the sake of a sea-view, and a pond (near
Jung-ch'êng city) at which His Majesty's horses were watered: hence
the name _Yin-ma-ch'ih_ (Drink-horse-pool). But the Chinese are always
ready to invent stories to suit place-names, and seeing that every
Chinese syllable (whether part of a name or not) has several meanings,
the strain on the imaginative faculties is not severe.
The feat performed by the Emperor close to the modern treaty-port
of Chefoo--only a couple of hours' steaming from Weihaiwei--may be
slightly more worthy of record than the Wên-têng legend. His first
visit to Chih-fu (Chefoo) Hill--by which is meant one of the islands
off the coast--is said to have taken place in 218 B.C., when he left a
record of himself in a rock-inscription which--if it ever existed--has
doubtless long ago disappeared. In 210, the last year of his busy life,
he sent a certain Hsü Fu to gather medicinal herbs (or rather the herbs
out of which the drug of immortality was made) at the Chefoo Hill. In
his journeys across the waters to and from the hill Hsü Fu was much
harassed by the attacks of a mighty fish, and gave his imperial master
a full account of the perils which constantly menaced him owing to
this monster's disagreeable attentions. The Emperor, always ready for
an adventure, immediately started for Chefoo, climbed the hill, caught
sight of the great fish wallowing in the waters, and promptly shot it
dead with his bow and arrow.
It is natural that the Shantung Promontory and the eastern peninsula in
general should have become the centre of legend and myth. We know from
classical tradition that to the people of Europe the western ocean--the
Atlantic--was a region of marvel. There--beyond the ken of ships
made or manned by ordinary mortals--lay the Fortunate Islands, the
Isles of the Blest. The Chinese have similar legends, but their Fairy
Isles--P'êng-lai and Fu-sang--lay, as a matter of course, somewhere in
the undiscovered east, about the shimmering region of the rising sun.
Many and many are the Chinese dreamers and poets who have yearned for
those islands, and have longed to pluck the wondrous fruit that ripened
only once in three thousand years and then imparted a golden lustre to
him who tasted of it. The Shantung Promontory became a region of marvel
because it formed the borderland between the known and the unknown,
the stepping-stone from the realm of prosaic fact to that of fancy and
romance.
The coast-line from the Promontory to Weihaiwei possesses no features
of outstanding interest. It consists of long sandy beaches broken by
occasional rocks and cliffs. The villages are small and, from the sea,
almost invisible. Undulating hills, seldom rising above a thousand
feet in height, but sometimes bold and rugged in outline, form a
pleasant background. There are a few islets, of which one of the most
conspicuous is Chi-ming-tao--"Cock-crow Island"--lying ten miles from
the most easterly point of the Weihaiwei harbour. All the mainland from
here onwards lies within the territory directly ruled by Great Britain.
On the port side of the steamer as she enters the harbour will be seen
a line of low cliffs crowned by a lighthouse; on the starboard side
lies Liukungtao, the island of Liukung.
As in the case of Hongkong, it is the island that creates the harbour;
and, similarly, the position of the island provides two entrances
available at all times for the largest ships. The island is two and
a quarter miles long and has a maximum breadth of seven-eighths of a
mile and a circumference of five and a half miles. The eastern harbour
entrance is two miles broad, the western entrance only three-quarters
of a mile. The total superficial area of the harbour is estimated
at eleven square miles. Under the lee of the island, which might be
described as a miniature Hongkong, is the deep-water anchorage for
warships, and it is here that the British China Squadron lies when
it pays its annual summer visit to north China. On the island are
situated the headquarters of the permanent naval establishment, the
naval canteen (formerly a picturesque Chinese official _yamên_), a
United Services club, a few bungalows for summer visitors, an hotel,
the offices of a few shipping firms, and several streets of shops kept
chiefly by natives of south China and by Japanese. There are also the
usual recreation-grounds, tennis-courts, and golf-links, without which
no British colony would be able to exist. The whole island practically
consists of one hill, which rises to a point (the Signal Station) 498
feet above sea-level. On the seaward side it ends precipitously in a
fringe of broken cliffs, while on the landward side its gentle slopes
are covered with streets and houses and open spaces.
The name Liukungtao means the Island of Mr. Liu, and the records
refer to it variously as Liu-chia-tao (the Island of the Liu family),
as Liutao (Liu Island), and as Liukungtao. Who Mr. Liu was and when
he lived is a matter of uncertainty, upon which the local Chinese
chronicles have very little to tell us. "Tradition says," so writes the
chronicler, "that the original Mr. Liu lived a very long time ago, but
no one knows when." The principal habitation of the family is said to
have been not on the island but at a village called Shih-lo-ts'un on
the mainland. This village was situated somewhere to the south of the
walled city. The family must have been a wealthy one, for it appears to
have owned the island and made of it a summer residence or "retreat."
It was while residing at Shih-lo-ts'un that one of the Liu family
made a very remarkable discovery. On the sea-shore he came across a
gigantic decayed fish with a bone measuring one hundred _chang_ in
length. According to English measurement this monstrous creature must
have been no less than three hundred and ninety yards long. Liu had
the mighty fishbone carried to a temple in the neighbouring walled
city, and there it was reverently presented to the presiding deity.
The only way to get the bone into the temple was to cut it up into
shorter lengths. This was done, and the various pieces were utilised as
subsidiary rafters for portions of the temple roof. They are still in
existence, as any inquirer may see for himself by visiting the Kuan Ti
temple in Weihaiwei city. Perhaps if Europeans insist upon depriving
China of the honour of having invented the mariner's compass they may
be willing to leave her the distinction of having discovered the first
sea-serpent.[14]
[Illustration: _Photo by Ah Fong._
WEIHAIWEI HARBOUR, LIUKUNGTAO AND CHU-TAO LIGHTHOUSE. ]
From time immemorial there existed on the island a temple which
contained two images representing an elderly gentleman and his wife.
These were Liu Kung and Liu Mu--Father and Mother Liu. They afford
a good example of how quite undistinguished men and women can in
favourable circumstances attain the position of local deities or
saints: for the persons represented by these two images have been
regularly worshipped--especially by sailors--for several centuries.
The curious thing is that the deification of the old couple has taken
place without any apparent justification from legend or myth. Perhaps
they were a benevolent pair who were in the habit of ministering to
the wants of shipwrecked sailors; but if so there is no testimony
to that effect. When the British Government acquired the island and
began to make preparations for the construction of naval works and
forts, which were never completed, the Chinese decided to remove the
venerated images of Father and Mother Liu to the mainland. They are
now handsomely housed in a new temple that stands between the walled
city and the European settlement of Port Edward, and it is still the
custom for many of the local junkmen to come here and make their pious
offerings of money and incense, believing that in return for these
gifts old Liu and his wife will graciously grant them good fortune at
sea and freedom from storm and shipwreck.
It is on the island that the majority of the British residents dwell,
but Liukungtao does not occupy with respect to the mainland the same
all-important and dominating position that Hongkong occupies (or
did till recently occupy) with regard to the Kowloon peninsula and
the New Territory. The seat of the British Government of Weihaiwei
is on the mainland, and the small group of civil officers are far
more busily employed in connexion with the administration of that
part of the Territory and its 150,000 villagers than with the little
island and its few British residents and native shopkeepers. The
British administrative centre, then, is the village of Ma-t'ou, which
before the arrival of the British was the port of the walled city
of Weihaiwei, but is gradually becoming more and more European in
appearance and has been appropriately re-named Port Edward. It lies
snugly on the south-west side of the harbour and is well sheltered
from storms; the water in the vicinity of Port Edward is, however,
too shallow for vessels larger than sea-going junks and small
coasting-steamers. Ferry-launches run several times daily between the
island and the mainland, the distance between the two piers being
two and a half miles. Government House, the residence of the British
Commissioner, is situated on a slight eminence overlooking the village,
and not far off are situated the Government Offices and the buildings
occupied, until 1906, by the officers and men of the 1st Chinese
Regiment of Infantry. At the northern end of the village, well situated
on a bluff overlooking the sea, is a large hotel: far from beautiful
in outward appearance, but comfortable and well managed. A little
further off stands the Weihaiwei School for European boys. It would be
difficult anywhere in Asia to find a healthier place for a school, and
certainly on the coast of China the site is peerless.
[Illustration: IMAGES OF "MR. AND MRS. LIU" (see p. 27).]
Elsewhere in the neighbourhood of Port Edward there are well-situated
bungalows for European summer visitors, natural sulphur baths well
managed by Japanese, and a small golf course. Other attractions for
Europeans are not wanting, but as these pages are not written for
the purpose either of eulogising British enterprise or of attracting
British visitors, detailed reference to them is unnecessary.
It may be mentioned, however, that from the European point of view,
the most pleasing feature of Port Edward and its neighbourhood is the
absence of any large and congested centre of Chinese population. The
city of Weihaiwei is indeed close by--only half a mile from the main
street of Port Edward. But it is a city only in name, for though it
possesses a battlemented wall and imposing gates, it contains only a
few quiet streets, three or four temples, an official _yamên_, wide
open spaces which are a favourite resort of snipe, and a population of
about two thousand.
The reader may remember that when the New Territory was added to
the Colony of Hongkong in 1898 a clause in the treaty provided that
the walled city of Kowloon, though completely surrounded by British
territory, should be left under Chinese rule. This arrangement was
due merely to the strong sentimental objection of the Chinese to
surrendering a walled city. In the case of Kowloon, as it happened,
circumstances soon made it necessary for this part of the treaty to
be annulled, and very soon after the New Territory had passed into
British hands the Union Jack was hoisted also on the walls of Kowloon.
When the territory of Weihaiwei was "leased" to Great Britain in the
same eventful year (1898) a somewhat similar agreement was made "that
within the walled city of Weihaiwei Chinese officials shall continue to
exercise jurisdiction, except so far as may be inconsistent with naval
and military requirements for the defence of the territory leased."
So correct has been the attitude of the Chinese officials since the
Weihaiwei Convention was signed that it has never been found necessary
to raise any question as to the status of the little walled town.
Nominally it is ruled by the Wên-têng magistrate, whose resident
delegate is a _hsün-chien_ or sub-district deputy magistrate;[15] but
as the _hsün-chien_ has no authority an inch beyond the city walls,
and in practice is perfectly ready to acknowledge British authority in
such matters as sanitation (towards the expenses of which he receives a
small subsidy from the British Government), it may be easily understood
why this _imperium in imperio_ has not hitherto led to friction or
unpleasantness.
A walk round the well-preserved walls of Weihaiwei city affords a
good view of the surroundings of Port Edward and the contour of the
sea-coast bordering on the harbour. At the highest point of the city
wall stands a little tower called the Huan-ts'ui-lou, the view from
which has for centuries past been much praised by the local bards. It
was built in the Ming dynasty by a military official named Wang, as a
spot from which he might observe the sunrise and enjoy the sea view.
From here can be seen, at favourable times, a locally-celebrated mirage
(called by the Chinese a "market in the ocean") over and beyond the
little islet of Jih-tao or Sun Island, which lies between Liukungtao
and the mainland. The view from this tower is very pleasing, though one
need not be prepared to endorse the ecstatic words of a sentimental
captain from the Wên-têng camp, who closed a little poem of his own
with the words "How entrancing is this fair landscape: this must indeed
be Fairyland!"
Many of the most conspicuous hills in the northern portion of the
Territory can be seen to advantage from the Huan-ts'ui-lou. The
small hill immediately behind the city wall and the tower is the
Nai-ku-shan.[16]
[Illustration: A VIEW FROM THE WALL OF WEIHAIWEI CITY (see p. 31).]
Like many other hills in the neighbourhood and along the coast, it
possesses the remains of a stone-built beacon-tumulus (_fêng tun_),
on which signal fires were lighted in the old days of warfare. To the
northward lie Ku-mo Shan, the hill of Yao-yao, and Tiao-wo Shan, all
included in the range that bears in the British map the name of Admiral
Fitzgerald.
The highest point of the range is described in the local chronicle as
"a solitary peak, seldom visited by human foot," though it is nowadays
a common objective for European pedestrians, and also, indeed, for
active Chinese children. The height is barely one thousand feet above
sea-level. Tiao-we Shan and a neighbouring peak called Sung Ting Shan
were resorted to by hundreds of the inhabitants of Weihaiwei as a
place of refuge from the bands of robbers and disorganised soldiers
who pillaged the homes and fields of the people during the commotions
which marked the last year of the Ming dynasty (1643). To the northward
of the Huan-ts'ui-lou may be seen a little hill--not far from the
European bungalows at Narcissus Bay--crowned with a small stone obelisk
of a kind often seen in China and known to foreigners as a Confucian
Pencil. This was put up by a graduate of the present dynasty named
Hsia Shih-yen and others, as a means of bringing good luck to the
neighbourhood, and also, perhaps, as a memorial of their own literary
abilities and successes. It bears no inscription.
A loftier hill is Lao-ya Shan, which is or used to be the principal
resort of the local officials and people when offering up public
supplications for rain. Its name (which means the Hill of the Crows)
is derived from the black clouds which as they cluster round the
summit are supposed to resemble the gathering of crows. An alternative
name is Hsi-yü-ting--the Happy Rain Peak. The highest point in this
section of the Territory lies among the imposing range of mountains
to the south of Weihaiwei city, and is known to the Chinese as
Fo-erh-ting--"Buddha's Head"--the height of which is about 1,350 feet.
This range of hills has been named by the British after Admiral Sir
Edward Seymour.
The enumeration of all the hills of so mountainous a district as the
Weihaiwei Territory would be useless and of little interest. Some of
them, distinguished by miniature temples dedicated to the _Shan-shên_
(Spirit of the Hill) and to the Supreme God of Taoism, will be
referred to later on.[17] The loftiest hill in the Territory--about
1,700 feet--lies fourteen miles south of Port Edward, and is known to
Europeans as Mount Macdonald, and to the Chinese as Chêng-ch'i Shan or
Cho-ch'i Shan.[18] The Chinese name is derived from a stone chessboard
said to have been carved out of a rock by a _hsien-jên_, a kind of
wizard or mountain recluse who lived there in bygone ages. Most of
the more remarkable or conspicuous hills in China are believed by the
people to have been the abode of weird old men who never came to an end
like ordinary people, but went on living with absurdly long beards and
a profound knowledge of nature's secrets. There are endless legends
about these mysterious beings, many of whom were in fact hermits with
a distaste for the commonplace joys of life and a passion for mountain
scenery.[19]
On the rocky summit of the Li-k'ou hill (situated in the range of
which Fo-erh-ting is the highest point) there is a large stone which
is symmetrical in shape and differs in appearance from the surrounding
boulders. Legend says that a hermit who cultivated the occult arts
brewed for himself on the top of the hill the elixir of life. An ox
that was employed in grinding wheat at the foot of the hill sniffed
the fragrant brew and broke away from his tether. Rushing up the hill
in hot haste, he dragged after him the great grindstone. Arriving at
the summit, he butted against the cauldron in which the hermit had
cooked the soup of immortality, and eagerly lapped up the liquid as
it trickled down the side. The hermit, emulating an ancient worthy
called Kou Shan-chih who was charioted on the wings of a crane, jumped
on the ox's back, and thereupon the two immortal beings, leaving the
grindstone behind them as a memorial, passed away to heaven and were
seen no more. This is only one of many quaint stories told by the
old folks of Weihaiwei to explain the peculiar formation of a rock,
the existence of a cave in a cliff, or the sanctity of some nameless
mountain-shrine. Thus even the hills of Weihaiwei, bare of forests as
they are and devoid of mystery as they would seem to be, have yet their
gleam of human interest, their little store of romance, their bond of
kinship with the creative mind of man.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] The three characters in question are depicted on the binding of
this book.
[6] The following list of distances by sea to the principal
neighbouring ports may be of interest. The distance is in each case
reckoned from the Weihaiwei harbour. _Shantung Promontory_, 30 miles;
_Chefoo_, 42 miles; _Port Arthur_, 89 miles; _Dalny_, 91 miles;
_Chemulpo_, 232 miles; _Taku_, 234 miles; _Shanghai_ 452 miles;
_Kiaochou_, 194 miles; _Nagasaki_, 510 miles.
[7] "The magistrate is the unit of government; he is the backbone of
the whole official system; and to ninety per cent. of the population he
is _the_ Government."--Byron Brenan's _Office of District Magistrate in
China_.
[8] England and Wales contain 58,000 square miles, with a population
perhaps slightly less than that of Shantung.
[9] As early as the seventh century B.C. deforestation had become a
recognised evil in the State of Ch'i (part of the modern Shantung),
chiefly owing to the lavish use of timber for coffins and grave-vaults.
(_See_ De Groot's _Religious System of China_, vol. ii. pp. 660-1.)
[10] Especially some of the sea-beaches, the defiles that lie between
Yü-chia-k'uang and Shang Chuang, and the valleys in which are situated
Ch'i-k'uang, Wang-chia-k'uang, Pei k'ou, Chang-chia-shan, and Ch'ien
Li-k'ou.
[11] The story is quoted in the _T'ai P'ing Huan Yü Chi_ (_chüan_ 20).
[12] With regard to this assistance from spirits, cf. the Jewish legend
that King Solomon by the aid of a magic ring controlled the demons and
compelled them to give their help in the building of the great Temple.
[13] See _T'ai P'ing Huan Yü Chi_, _loc. cit._
[14] For accounts of other appearances of the "sea-serpent" in Chinese
waters, see Dennys's _Folk-lore of China_, pp. 109, 113-4.
[15] See pp. 53 and 36.
[16] _Shan_ is the Chinese word for "Hill."
[17] See pp. 391 _seq._
[18] See pp. 397-8.
[19] See pp. 393 _seq._