The Railway Conquest of the World

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

An effort to break through the influence of Fung Shui was made in 1875 by a group of Englishmen. The firm of Messrs. Jardine, Matheson & Company, who have large interests in China, desired to connect Shanghai to Woosung with 12 miles of railway, and they secured the services of the late Mr. G. J. Morrison, an accomplished engineer, to carry the project to fulfilment. Great difficulty was experienced in securing the requisite permission to proceed, because the Chinese entertained a deep-rooted objection to the invasion of their country by the foreigner. However, the application proved successful and the line was built.

The opening of this short road was received with acclamation by the lower classes in close proximity to the line. They experienced a peculiar delight in travelling in the carriages drawn by the steam horse, and all was proceeding merrily. The opposition of the Chinese to the new-fangled idea had been overcome, argued the promoters of the enterprise, and they looked forward to further railway expansion. But they did not reckon with the offended opposition and ignorant vested interests, as represented by influential land-owners and high personages. The wrath of the gods was anticipated in no uncertain manner, but as this did not appear to have vent spontaneously, the opponents resorted to ingenious methods to achieve their desires. They induced a soldier to throw himself before an approaching train, under the promise of a payment of $100 to his family. The latter, possibly entertaining the belief that the presence of his body stretched across the metals might arrest the progress of the train, or at least throw it off the track, without inflicting injury upon himself, submitted to the ordeal, with the inevitable result. He was killed. Instantly the intriguers published this circumstance as an instance of the intense displeasure of the gods, and the countryside rose up with one voice, calling for the destruction of the innovation.

The agitation startled the Government. An inquiry was held upon the suicide, and the unanimous verdict was that the line was unsafe. It was condemned forthwith. The Government even went farther under public pressure. It purchased the railway, lock, stock and barrel, at cost price, and turned it over to the enraged populace to do with it according to their inclinations. The frenzied fanatics tore the track up piecemeal, threw the rolling stock out of the country, and, to propitiate the gods, erected a temple to the Queen of Heaven upon the site selected as the terminus in Shanghai. The promoters of the ill-starred enterprise retrieved as much of the discarded remains of the line as possible, and transported them to the island of Formosa for another undertaking. Such was the inglorious end that befell the first attempt to introduce Stephenson’s invention into the land of the Celestial.

Curiously enough, among those most prominent in the opposition to this movement was Li-Hung-Chang, subsequently China’s foremost and most enlightened statesman. He had spared no effort to prevent the construction of the first railway, and when it was completed he left no stone unturned to bring about its demolition. Shortly afterwards, however, he became converted to the new method of locomotion. Among those few enterprising and enlightened Chinese gentlemen who realised the widespread advantages accruing from the adoption of railways in other parts of the world, and who foresaw its possibilities in his native land, was General Tong-King-Sing. He had followed the Shanghai-Woosung experiment with deep interest. Undeterred by the fate which had overwhelmed the effort of Messrs. Jardine, Matheson & Company, he decided to build another line, but he took care first to win the most powerful opponent to such a movement to his side. The General was identified with a steamship company which required cheap coal. Li-Hung-Chang, then Viceroy of Chichli, was interested in some collieries at Tongshan, some 30 miles inland from the nearest port at Pehtang.

The General approached the Viceroy, and the two, with the aid of some other influential friends, decided to exploit the deposits. But the question arose as to how the coal could be carried cheaply to the coast. General Tong-King-Sing maintained that there was no means of transportation which could compete with the railway, and he skilfully won the Viceroy round to his side. In this manner the Viceroy was converted from an implacable enemy to a strenuous advocate of railways. They approached the Government for the requisite permission, and the latter, impressed possibly by the great men associated with the enterprise, sanctioned the project. The preliminary arrangements were hurried forward, an Englishman, Mr. C. W. Kinder, who might be described as the Father of the Railway in China, being enlisted as engineer-in-chief.

Before actual constructional work was commenced, however, the Government—no doubt owing to pressure—repented of its action and withdrew its approbation. As a result the company were forced to build a canal, which was completed for some miles, but the head of this waterway was some 7 miles from the coal-pits. From the end of the canal to the port, the Government authorised the construction of a tramroad, but it stipulated that mules should be employed exclusively for the haulage of the trucks. The company was forced to make the most of this indifferent bargain, and so the coal was transported from the collieries to the port under very adverse circumstances.

These slow methods, however, did not appeal to the engineer, and secretly he decided to effect an improvement. He fashioned a locomotive from the best materials he could command, a portable engine which was used at the mines being mounted on a truck in such a way as to secure self-propulsion. This was used for haulage between the collieries and the head of the canal. As no ill results attended its use, the Government finally approved of its utilisation. Shortly afterwards the line as a railway was extended to Tientsin, and opened for traffic in October, 1888. Subsequently the railhead was pushed onwards to Shan-Hai-Kuan. From the small 7-mile road upon which the enterprising engineer surreptitiously placed a fearsome-looking locomotive the railway has spread its tentacles throughout the Chinese Empire, the original road has been extended, and has effected connection with other systems, giving communication in the north with Mukden, Harbin and the Trans-Siberian railway.

The original road is intensely British, both in its character and operation. It was built on the English model, and differed greatly from the usual class of pioneer railway. The gradients are easy and the curves are of wide radius. At one point the location of the line ran through two private cemeteries, but as the graves of the ancestors could not be disturbed under any considerations whatever, the line had to make a wide swerve to avoid this obstruction.

All the materials for the railway were obtained from Great Britain, and the solidity of the construction is an outstanding feature. Every bridge is carried out either in steel, concrete, brick or stone, whichever was found to be the most economical. This feature somewhat surprised American engineers, who are accustomed to less durable work in the initial stages, especially as it did not appear justifiable in such a fickle country as China. The latter were also astonished at the low price at which the requisite materials were landed in the country, and the fact that mechanical appliances could not compete with coolie labour in point of cheapness. As a matter of fact, the country traversed at that time was exceedingly poor, the inhabitants experiencing a terrible struggle to eke out a pitiable existence. Indeed, around Tongshan, at the time the railway made its appearance, it was estimated that over 50,000 natives died of starvation in two months. When the iron horse invaded this territory a change for the better set in, inasmuch as it offered a ready and inexpensive means of conveying the produce from the land to market.

One piece of engineering skill has always ranked as a distinct wonder in the neighbourhood. This is the bridge over the Lan-ho, 2,170 feet in length, in which there are 5 spans each of 200 feet. It was designed by the late Sir Benjamin Baker, and aroused interest because of its unusual design, which was condemned severely by American engineers. This famous bridge-builder, however, was by no means content to abide by hide-bound rules and regulations, and though in this structure he departed from the orthodox very decidedly, he forced his detractors to admit that the bridge was absolutely safe, and was able to meet any traffic that it was likely to be called upon to bear.