The Péhan Railway: from Peking to Hankow
This line extends a distance of 700 English miles from Peking to
Hankow. The railway was constructed by a Belgian syndicate, but it is
really a combination of French, Belgian, and Russian interests, which
were successful in outbidding American proposals. The Belgians proved
themselves more successful diplomatists than the Americans, and struck
a bargain with the Chinese, in 1897, of such a nature that it had
to be completely altered afterwards. The arrangement certainly does
not bear a creditable aspect. Indeed, the whole history of railway
enterprise in China makes sorry reading. British protests were ignored,
and a working agreement was made, giving the Belgian syndicate full
rights over the line for forty years. In the prospectus which they
issued they professed to have obtained the right to carry the railway
through from Hankow to Canton, but events have conclusively proved
that, although they attempted to obtain this right, it was refused. An
American combination won the concession in 1898, but it was cancelled
in 1905--little progress having been made--and it is to be a Chinese
line from Hankow to Canton. An English engineer had already strongly
advocated the value of such a line, and the Chinese are made to realise
more clearly every day the advisability of keeping the railways as far
as possible in their own hands.
[Illustration: MR. KU]
One of the most striking drawbacks of the Péhan railway is that no
goods can safely be sent by it. Our luggage was fortunately so small
that we had it all in the carriage with us--two suit-cases, two
bed-bags, and a hold-all being all that we allowed ourselves for the
journey through the interior. We had sent our other luggage round from
Shanghai to Burma, so that we might travel as lightly as possible.
During the whole of our journey we never lost a single article, and
it was a disheartening consideration that it was only when we came in
contact with Europeans that we had any need for care.
Together with the right to build the Péhan line, the Belgian syndicate
obtained a mining concession of great value at Lincheng in the province
of Chili. So much with regard to the Chinese railways.
We started in the grey dawn to take the 7 A.M. train to Hankow, and
as the only weekly express started the wrong day for us, we decided
to go by the ordinary mail. According to continental custom, there is
a considerable difference in price between the two, and we paid the
same price for first-class ordinary tickets as we should have done
for second-class by the express. The carriages are not so good, but
we found them comfortable, and infinitely cleaner than on the German
line. In fact, a man came round periodically with a feather brush to
dust us out, and this was sadly needed across the dusty plains of
Chili and Honan, which it took us two days to traverse. The carriages
are broad, and we had one to ourselves, next door to a handy little
kitchen. Perhaps it was with this fact in view that mine host’s cook
brought us two live chickens, tied by a string, as provision for the
journey! But we had started in such excellent time that the doctor sent
him off from the station post-haste to get cooked ones instead, and he
returned triumphant with two well-spiced creatures packed in a basket,
covered with leaves. We were only dependent, therefore, on the kitchen
for hot water, and it was a great boon to have as much as we wanted
both for drinking and washing. Our servant Liu--who had been found for
us and partially trained by the doctor--was allowed to come along and
wash up for us and do any odd jobs we might want.
The train only runs during the day, but we got permission to stay
in it at night, and having bedding with us, we were able to be
quite comfortable. It was much less fatiguing than having to turn
out and go to an inn, especially as we started again at 6 A.M. The
vast plains that we passed through looked very deserted, as the
harvest is practically over: the persimmon trees were nearly bare of
fruit, but the Indian corn still made vivid patches of colour on the
threshing-floors, and occasionally we saw monkey-nuts being sifted
from the sandy soil, which is particularly adapted to their culture.
[Illustration: THE BRAKEMAN ON THE PÉHAN RAILWAY]
We found the stations on the Péhan railway more varied and amusing than
those in Shantung; we could really have supplied all our needs in the
way of food at them, as there were excellent bread, chickens, eggs,
various kinds of fruit, and many Chinese delicacies to be had; but
naturally we preferred carrying our own supplies.
On the second day we came to the most interesting point in the
journey--the crossing of the Hwang Ho (Yellow River). It is a
single-line bridge, nearly two miles long, and looks far too fragile
to withstand the swirl of the waters when the river is full. It is a
screw-pile erection, and was extremely difficult and costly to build,
owing to the shifting sands and depth of mud.
The choice of a spot for a bridge has been criticised somewhat severely
on account of changes in the course of the river, but its nine changes
during 2000 years make an engineer study the matter with very great
care, and one must hope that the right spot has been chosen. The bed
of the river is simply a quicksand, and it proved extremely difficult
to reach any solid foundation. The rock and stone at first used to
strengthen the foundations was simply swallowed by the quicksand, and
it was necessary to make a foundation of what can only be described
as matting, made by twisting together the branches of trees, on which
tons of stones were piled round the screw-piles, and these were again
protected from the down-flowing tide by triangular arrangements of
wooden piles. The screw-piles are placed in sets of four, six, eight,
and ten, and joined together by powerful stanchions and girders, and
they reach a depth of some forty-four feet. The train crawled across
the bridge in a most gingerly way, and one would certainly hesitate to
risk crossing it at flood-tide. As one looked down on the water (more
like chocolate cream than anything else) eddying round the supports,
there was an evil fascination about it. An Indian engineer explained to
us that the Chinese method of damming the river is exactly the opposite
to ours--namely, they dam it _below_ the bridge, and we _above_. It was
a relief to get safely across its interminable length: the time went
so slowly that one might almost forget the notice-board at one end,
saying, “Fleuve jaune, rive nord,” before reaching the one at the other
end, “Fleuve jaune, rive sud.” At this point in the journey we left the
Great North China Plain extending to the farther side of Peking, came
into more varied country, and approached the hills, which before we
had only seen at intervals looming in the distance. The railway goes
through a tunnel, the first to be made in China, and emerges into the
Yangtze valley.
[Illustration: GREAT WALL]
On the third day the scenery we passed through was beautiful, and we
came to quite a different vegetation. The Scotch firs on the steep
loess hillsides reminded us pleasantly of home, and even a view of the
Great Wall at one point did not altogether dispel the illusion.
Why the Great Wall extends down here it would be hard to say, for it
could scarcely be of much use in its shrunken dimensions to keep out
invaders. The Great Wall was erected along the northern frontier of
China for a distance of about 1500 miles, in the year 214 B.C. by Chin
Hwang Tu. The amount of material required to build it is said to be
seventy times as much as that required for building the largest of the
pyramids. The part of the wall we saw was a spur running down from
the Great Wall between the provinces of Shansi and Chili; there are
other similar spurs from the Great Wall. At the foot of the hill are
rice-fields.
As we came farther south the vegetation changed. Instead of cornfields
we saw rice-fields, mostly under water; and more and more the water
increased in volume, till we found ourselves skirting large lagoons,
with countless little boats on their surface, and large fishing-nets,
which brought up a shining harvest of little fish. Many huts are built
on land which must frequently be submerged, as is the case along the
Yangtze valley.
Sometimes we saw beds of bamboos, for which the climate is too cold
farther north. Water buffaloes replaced the other cattle, for the
obvious reason that they are much better suited to work in swampy
grounds.
At sunset we reached Hankow (so called because it is on the Han
river), and were kept waiting a long time at the first station, close
to the banks of the Yangtzekiang, so that it was dark by the time
we reached the town. We drew up alongside a crowd of people, dimly
illumined by the gay Chinese lanterns they were carrying, and found it
difficult to distinguish the friends who had come to meet us. Nearly
every one carries a lantern, or has a servant to do it, for the place
is miserably lighted. The station is in the middle of the foreign
concession, and you might easily imagine yourself in a poorly lighted
London suburb, as you pass big warehouses and shops and suburban
villas. It is the centre of the commercial life of the place, and there
is a large European population.
All along the river-bank the city stretches for miles, and across the
river is the town of Wuchang, to which ferries ply continually. If the
wind is against you it may take an hour or more to get across, and
you could easily imagine yourself on the sea. Indeed, it is nothing
uncommon to go across in calm weather to pay a call, and for the wind
to rise suddenly and prevent your coming back for a couple of days. At
Wuchang there are various missions with hospitals and schools. At one
of these we saw a slave girl who had been almost burnt to death with
incense sticks by an enraged mistress, and then bricked up in a wall to
die of starvation. She will probably never entirely recover the shock
to the system. Large boat-loads of girls are continually passing down
the river from the province of Szechwan, we were told, for sale at the
ports; and although there has recently been an edict prohibiting the
traffic, that edict is a dead letter. Many slave girls are not badly
treated, but in fits of passion a Chinese mistress becomes capable of
diabolical cruelty. One child was brought to the hospital at Taiyüanfu,
some years ago when I was there, almost dead. She had been beaten and
knocked about and bitten till she was one mass of bruises and sores,
and was almost blind and quite lame. She screamed at first if any one
came near her, and it was plain that kindness was a thing unknown.
Soon she learnt that she had come into a new world, and responded
beautifully to the new treatment. Her face lighted up with joy at any
small gift, a flower or a sweet, and the necessary suffering caused
by dressing her wounds was borne in heroic silence. Her one dread was
lest she should recover so as to have to return to her old mistress.
Several months of diplomatic negotiations passed before her mistress
was persuaded to make her over as a gift to the hospital, on account of
her incurable lameness and blindness, which rendered her practically
useless.
So much has been said about the cruelty of the Chinese as a race, that
I cannot forbear pointing out one or two things that have struck me.
The Chinaman never appears to be cruel from innate love of cruelty for
its own sake of sport, and I have never seen or heard in China of the
atrocities which make travelling in southern Italy and Spain a misery
to any one who loves animals. Cruelty for the love of money--such as
that witnessed on the Congo and elsewhere--is not to be found in China,
except in isolated cases, such as in the gaols. If it were not for the
humanising influences of Christianity, I believe that we should be a
more brutal race than the Chinese, for unhappily the sporting instinct,
which we so strongly possess, is closely allied to cruelty. A Chinaman
looking on at many a football match in Lancashire or Yorkshire might
reasonably have much to say on the subject of kicking, for instance, as
a proof of our brutality. Another point that is apt to be overlooked is
that the Chinese are extraordinarily insensitive to pain; witness every
operating theatre in the country, where anæsthetics are much less used
or required than for Europeans. There is no denying that the Chinese
can be unspeakably cruel when under the influence of passion, but not
more so than Europeans; and that Chinese punishments are barbarous
in the extreme; but there is little doubt they will soon be altered
and brought into line with Western ideas, if one may judge from other
changes now taking place.
There is a Bund at Hankow running along the river-side as at Shanghai,
but it is not nearly so fine a one. Large ships pass daily between the
two cities; for Hankow is a most flourishing place, the centre of the
tea trade, and in its warehouses is packed all the tea for the Russian
market which can be despatched to Russia without transhipment.[8]
Immediately to the east of Hankow, and only separated from it by the
Han river, is the large town of Han-Yang, and this and Wu Chang form
one big city with Hankow.
We had to wait a few days before we could get a steamer going to
Ichang, and though small, we found it remarkably comfortable, so that
we enjoyed our three days’ trip. The country at first was flat, but
there was always something to see--long, V-shaped flights of geese, or
solid blocks of ducks. Herons, too, and many other kinds of birds we
saw; and wild turkeys we _ate_, as well as pheasants.
The river was unusually high, but not too high, we ascertained, for us
to get up the rapids. In consequence of the height of the river the
tiny steam-launch had to be let down at one point, as well as continual
soundings to be made to test the depth of the river-bed. This is always
changing, especially during the fall of the river, and is one of the
main difficulties of river navigation in China, making it most tiresome
and dangerous.
Wet weather set in next day and lasted more or less for a week, so that
the crags overhanging the banks near Ichang looked grand and forbidding
as we steamed up to it.