The work already achieved by medical missionaries in China is by no means small or unimportant. They form an association, by means of which the task of fixing the terminology of medical science has already been accomplished. They have published a standard dictionary in Chinese, as well as the latest American and English text-books on this subject. The Chinese medical student, therefore, is not entirely dependent on oral teaching, if he has no knowledge of English. Another branch of this work is the organised labour of their research committee. The geographical distribution of disease, the various forms of it prevalent in different districts, and the methods of treatment come under this heading. Men of undoubted ability and with the highest medical qualifications are engaged in this work.
The Chinese Government has recognised the value of what has been already done by its official sanction of the Union College at Peking—the first attempt made in China to give a full medical education.[4] The late Dowager Empress contributed to its initial cost, and the Government has pledged itself to grant degrees to the students who have successfully passed its examinations. There are about seventy to a hundred students in it at the present time.
This is a somewhat long digression, but I think it will not be without interest to readers to have a general idea of the scope of medical mission work in China at the present time.
There is an arsenal near Tsinan, where an English officer, who had just been allowed to see over it, told us they seemed thoroughly expert, and able to reproduce anything they tried. They were busy making locks for a canal, and less than a hundred miles away we passed another large arsenal where they were busy making ammunition. The smoky chimneys were quite suggestive of home!
The most interesting feature of our stay at the capital was an interview with the Governor of the province, to whom we had an introduction. His Excellency Lord Wu is an intellectual-looking man, but worn and bowed with age. He had granted us an audience one afternoon, and on our arrival at his yamen (= official residence) we were led through a circular doorway in the wall, into the gardens, in which were little ponds and bridges, and an arbour made in the shape of a boat. We waited the Governor’s coming in a summer-house, a terrible European erection, furnished with a crimson and “Reckitt’s blue” plush sofa and revolving chairs to match. On the table were glasses and plates, with proverbs inscribed round them, and cups of the type seen at a Sunday-school caterer’s. Cake, champagne, and tea were set out on a parti-coloured table-cloth, which was ornamented with a florid design in chain-stitch composed of every colour of the rainbow. His Excellency soon made his appearance, accompanied by an exquisite-looking interpreter who spoke English well—better than he understood it, I fancy. For nearly an hour he plied us with all sorts of questions as to my education (he had been much exercised by F.R.S.G.S. on my Chinese visiting-card), occupation, our past and future travels. He not only gave us good advice with regard to our journey, but practical assistance—as we afterwards discovered—by sending word to the magistrates on our route through the province. An interested but somewhat ragged audience watched us from the doorway, and the Governor’s personal attendant played with his queue, but somehow nothing could disturb the dignified impression of the old man. He had known Gordon, and at the time of the Boxer troubles he had sent the missionaries safely out of the province, in direct opposition to the orders he had received from his Government. He is a strong, good man, and I much regretted that our conversation had to be carried on through an interpreter, for that process is paralysing to thought, not to mention that one had grave doubts as to the accuracy of the interpretation. The interview lasted about an hour, and was terminated by His Excellency inviting us to drink champagne or tea, after which he escorted us back through the garden to our chairs.
CHAPTER VI
The Sacred Shrine of Tai Shan
Shantung is the most interesting (historically) of all the provinces in the Empire, and we determined to visit two particularly sacred spots which were not far from the capital—Tai Shan (one of the four sacred mountains of China) and Küfow, the home of Confucius.
We started on a beautiful autumn morning, with quite an imposing cortège. First came our mounted military escort, then ourselves in two light mountain chairs, each carried by two men and with two to relieve them. Next came the cart, with our interpreter (a minute person clad in khaki, boasting the name of Fergus Summer—though a Chinaman), the cook, some baggage, and the men’s bedding. Finally a mule brought up the rear, carrying our baggage, some one’s bedding, and our other servant perched cross-legged on the top. It was a delightfully exhilarating day, and not less so the thought that we were really beginning our adventures off the beaten track, and had said good-bye to the railway for at least three weeks, to try far pleasanter, if slower, means of transit. The chairs were light frames with a hanging foot-rest, quite comfortable when padded with our bedding, and with an awning fastened on light bamboo rods above us. We were well manned, so we comforted ourselves as to the fact of their carrying us between twenty and thirty miles a day by remembering that they were only too pleased to get the job. They were pleasant, cheery fellows, with fine mahogany-coloured backs, and did not seem the least bit jaded at the end of the day’s march. They go lightly clad, the most solid part of their clothing being the pig-tail curled round their heads. The rest of their garments were well ventilated, and sometimes seemed in danger of falling to pieces altogether. Their food seemed most inadequate—a chunk of bread, an onion (alas for the passenger who hates the smell of an onion!), endless cups of tea at wayside restaurants, and frequent whiffs of smoke from their tiny pipes. They are wonderfully good-tempered, always ready for a laugh, and most attentive and careful for one’s comfort.
MOUNTAIN CHAIR