Shantung, the German Sphere of Influence
We left Shanghai by steamer on October 2nd, and reached Tsingtao (the
port of Kiaochow) at about 8 P.M. on the 3rd. We were grateful to be
allowed to stop on board for the night, as our train started from a
station close at hand at 7 A.M., and we were saved the trouble of
going to an hotel. The harbour is picturesquely situated at the mouth
of the bay, surrounded by hills which have all received German names
since the occupation. We were up betimes, and rather disturbed by the
non-appearance of the Customs House official, without whose presence
we could not go ashore. However, he appeared in time to let us get
to the little wayside station, and we found other passengers waiting
there, seated on the line with their luggage in a haphazard way. The
Germans have not only got the concession known as Kiaochow, but also
thirty miles on each side of the railway line which they have built
from Tsingtao to Tsinan, the capital of the province, a distance of
about 250 miles, through the centre of the province. The port is laid
out just like a German town, and has hotels, statues, a post-office,
commercial buildings, and private houses. The place is a fashionable
summer resort, consequently the prices are high, and have gone up at
least 50 per cent. since the coming of the Germans, who spend money
lavishly.
The German Government has just decided to build a High School for
Chinese boys of the upper class, at a cost of £30,000.
The rail is the dearest and dirtiest I have ever seen. The officials
treat foreigners with indifference, and the Chinese with brutality--at
least, so we heard at every place at which we stayed, and from the
people who most appreciated the coming of the railway. One can only
hope that things may be improved later, and a better class of officials
put in charge of the line. There was but one train per day going in
each direction, and the journey from Tsingtao to Tsinan takes about
twelve hours. Occasional trains run on sections of the line. Although
money has been poured out like water to make the German occupation a
success, the object has so far not been accomplished, perhaps owing
to lack of harmony between the three principal German officials in
China--the Governor of Kiaochow, the Ambassador, and the Commander
of the Fleet. The bulk of the trade on the line is still in Chinese
hands, and the merchants have succeeded in getting permission to build
a branch line from the treaty port, Chefoo, to Weihsien, which will be
a great advantage to them. Naturally the Germans, after spending so
much on their port, do not like to see trade diverted to another. They
not only refuse to build the line themselves, but have memorialised the
Throne to prevent the Chinese from being allowed to build one either:
however, their representations have failed.
The province of Shantung is considerably larger than England, and is
the most densely populated of any in China--557 persons to the square
mile. Although it is well cultivated and prosperous in appearance,
the partial failure of the crops has the immediate effect of throwing
50,000 of the inhabitants into a state of beggary. When this happens,
the Government grants each beggar daily a bowl of rice. It is hard
to realise this state of affairs when you pass through such a
prosperous-looking country; the crops are wheat, different kinds of
millet, sorghum, maize, sweet potatoes, beans, peas, hemp, and indigo.
A large quantity of fruit is also grown--pears, apples, apricots,
peaches, cherries, grapes, persimmons, &c. Every now and then you
pass brilliant patches of vegetables of various sorts. A villager’s
plot of land usually contains all the requisites of life--cotton (for
clothes and bedding), wheat, potatoes, a fruit-tree, and last, but not
least in China, a castor-oil plant; a few fowls and pigs will give him
what most he loves in the way of food. I have known a Chinese woman
eat fifteen eggs at a sitting, and she was surprised at the fit of
indigestion which followed this meal! There is a curious specimen of
fowl cultivated in this province, called the Cottonwool fowl; it is
small, white and fluffy, looking just like a toy out of a cardboard
box, and is exclusively used as medicine, especially for the diseases
of women. Its flesh is dark, and the bones black; the chickens are the
sweetest-looking objects. In contrast, the pigs of this part are black
and hairy.
After leaving Tsingtao the train travelled slowly, stopping at every
station, and these stations are all alike except a few large ones.
There was a ticket office, and a row of five wooden-looking Chinese
policemen standing at attention and drawn up in line as long as the
train was in the station. They wear black sailor-hats, and hold batons
as if they were rifles. For all the world they look like toy soldiers
at 11¾d. per dozen, made in Germany. There are no platforms on these
stations, and passengers squat on the line surrounded by their bedding,
teapots, and birdcages. The Chinese take to railway journeys like
ducks to water, so the trains are well filled. A woman may be seen
approaching on her donkey, which travels at about the same rate as
the train, so she stands a good chance of catching it even if she has
started rather late. She is a picturesque object sitting astride on
the top of her bedding, attired in a blue coat and pink trousers, tied
in at the ankle with pea-green ribbons over white socks; the finishing
touch of the costume being the coyest imaginable little pointed
embroidered shoes.
[Illustration: A SUBURB OF WEIHSIEN]
At Weihsien, which we reached after some five and a half hours’
travelling, we were met by a friend, and passing out of the station,
we found on the “cab-stand” a row of wheelbarrows waiting to take
passengers to the town, about half a mile distant. The country is
dotted with a good number of trees, mainly willows, poplars, cypresses,
and mulberries, above which tower the walls of the city. We were
carried in chairs, and were charmed with the view, as a lovely clear
stream flowed at the base of the walls, reflecting a deep blue sky.
Weihsien is an important business city, and its streets are named
after the trades plied in them, such as Forge Street, Gold Street, and
Silversmith Street. To us they appeared picturesque, but some people
might call them squalid, and it is certainly wisest to look up, not
down. We passed through the outskirts of the town to a fine-looking
mission station, mainly built and worked by American Presbyterians who
had recently coalesced with the English Baptists. This mission station
was completely destroyed by Boxers in 1900, but now there is a fine
group of buildings, including boys’ and girls’ schools, hospitals, a
church, college buildings, and houses for workers (who number about
twenty), and the whole is enclosed within a high wall. So far the
teaching, even of Western science, has been entirely carried on in
Chinese, but the demand for the knowledge of English is so pressing
that it has recently been added to the curriculum.
From Weihsien we went next day to Tsingchowfu by rail, a journey of
about two hours, and this is one of the great historical centres of
the Empire. Here, again, the railway station was at a little distance
from the town, and we found chairs waiting to convey us thither. The
town has an imposing position on the hill, with a stream flowing round
the greater part of it; consequently the walls look an astonishing
height from the outer side, at least twice as high as from within, and
the main entrance is across a bridge.
Within the gloomy north gate hangs a group of cages containing
magistrates’ boots, but it is probable that they were originally used
to hold something very different, namely, criminals’ heads. In _Les
derniers Jours de Pékin_, Pierre Loti describes those he saw just after
the siege, all with the queue hanging down between the bars.
There are many fields within the city, and if time had allowed I should
willingly have stayed several weeks sketching there. The ruins of the
palace belonging to the Ming dynasty are fast falling to decay, and
as, unfortunately, the Government does not take any interest in the
preservation of national relics,[2] it is not unlikely that they may
entirely disappear one of these days.
Both here and at Weihsien we were struck with what we heard of the
village girls’ mission schools, showing the stability of character
and also the capacity of Chinese girls. When a village wishes to
establish a school, its inhabitants ask some mission to supply a
teacher, and they make themselves responsible for the rest. The girl
teacher is probably lodged in the home of the village elder, and he
makes arrangements for the schoolroom, &c., and acts as guardian to
the teacher. She organizes work, and has entire control as long as she
manages it properly. About twice a year a missionary goes to inspect
it and examine the scholars. We felt it would be interesting to see
one of these schools, so our hostess offered to arrange the matter,
and took us one day to the village of Wang Mu Chiang Chwang, some ten
miles distant, which she was intending to visit for the purpose of
inspection.