Formosa lies about a thousand miles south of Kobe—six hundred and sixty miles, it is estimated, south of Kagoshima, the southernmost point of Japan proper—and the voyage of four days down through the Tung Hai (Eastern China Sea) was a warm one, the latter part especially. Before Keelung was reached, the wraps that had been comfortable when leaving Japan were discarded in favour of the thinnest clothing that could be unpacked from bags or steamer-trunk. Two Scottish missionaries, returning to their work among the Chinese-Formosan in the southern part of the island, were the only other foreigners[11] (white people) on board. The other passengers—certainly of first and second class—were, with one exception, Japanese; chiefly Japanese officials, who, with their families, were going to take up their duties in the island colony of the empire; or to resume these duties after a summer vacation spent in Japan. The one exception was—as exceptions usually are—the most interesting person on board. This was a Chinese-Formosan; one who, in the days before the Japanese possession, had belonged to one of the “old” families of the island—as people all over the world are accustomed to reckon age in connection with “family” (au fond, how curiously alike are we all—Oriental and Occidental—in the little snobbishnesses that make up the sum of human pride—and human childishness).
GATEWAY OF THE OLD CHINESE WALL
Formerly surrounding the city of Taihoku, the capital of Formosa.
At any rate, in the days when “old” families in Formosa meant also wealthy families, this Chinese-Formosan, then young, had been sent to Hongkong, to be educated in an English college there. Consequently it was in excellent English that he told me something both of the early history of Formosa, as this had been recorded in old Chinese manuscripts, and also something of the traditions of the Chinese peasantry regarding the origin of the island. This—the origin—was connected, as are almost all things else in China, in the minds of the people, with the dragon. It seems that, according to popular legend—which the early Chinese geographers repeated in all seriousness—the particular dragon which was responsible for the origin of Formosa was one of more than usual ferocity. The home of this prince among dragons was Woo-hoo-mun (Five Tiger Gate), which lies at the entrance of Foochow, a town on the South China coast. One day his dragonship, being in a frolicsome mood, went for a day’s sport in the depths of the ocean. In his play he brought up from the ocean-bed sufficient earth to mould into a semblance of himself; Keelung being the head; the long, narrow peninsula, ending in Cape Garanbi, the southernmost point of the island, being the tail; the great mountain-range running from north to south—of which Mt. Sylvia and Mt. Morrison[12] are the two highest peaks—representing the bristling spines on the back of the dragon.
Thus according to tradition was created the island of Formosa, or Taiwan, which is in area about half the size of Scotland, but is in shape long and narrow, being about 265 miles long[13] and—at its widest point—about 80 miles wide. It is separated from China by the Formosa Channel, sometimes called Fokien Strait, which is at the widest about 245 miles, but at the narrowest only 62 miles; the dragon seeming to prefer to build this memorial of himself almost within sight of his permanent abiding-place. Indeed the Chinese-Formosan fishermen declare that on a clear day the coast-line of China may be discerned from the west coast of Formosa. But this I, myself, have never seen—the curve of the earth, alone, would, I think, prevent its being actually seen—and I am inclined to think that the fishermen mistake the outline of the Pescadores, small islands lying between China and Formosa, but nearer the latter, for China proper. That is, if their imagination does not play them false altogether, and build for them out of the clouds on the horizon a semblance of the coast-line of the home of their ancestors—something sacred to every Chinese, whatever the conditions of starvation or servitude which drove his ancestors from the motherland.
Something of the early historical, or pseudo-historical, records of Formosa my Chinese-Formosan fellow-voyager on the Osaka Shosen Kaisha steamer also told me. It seems that the first mention in Chinese records of the island is in the Sui-Shu—the history of the Sui Dynasty, which lasted from A.D. 581 to 618, according to Occidental reckoning. At that time Chinese historians and also geographers believed Formosa to be one of the Lu-chu (
According to early Chinese historians the aboriginal inhabitants of Formosa up to about the sixth century A.D. were a gentle and peaceable people, making no objection to Chinese settlements on the coast of the island. Then in about the second half of the sixth century—as nearly as Oriental and Occidental systems of reckoning time can be correlated (the beginning of the Sui dynasty) there swept up from “somewhere in the south” bands of fierce marauders who conquered the west coast of the island and drove the surviving aboriginal inhabitants into the central mountains. A little later—in about the seventh century—the Chinese historian, Ma Tuan-hiu, says a Chinese expedition went to Formosa, with the intention of forcing the new inhabitants to pay tribute to China. This, however, these “new inhabitants”—of Malay origin presumably—refused to do. Consequently great numbers were killed by the Chinese, who also burned many native villages, and used the blood of the slain inhabitants for caulking their boats. To one who knows the peculiar reverence with which blood is regarded by all primitive peoples, and the many ceremonies, religious and social, in which the use of blood makes the ceremony sacred, it is easily comprehensible that the caulking of Chinese boats with the blood of their kinsmen caused greater consternation among the Formosan savages than the mere slaughter of a greater number of their people would have done.
In spite, however, of the ruthless measures taken by the Chinese in their efforts to extort tribute, the “wild men of the South” held their ground, and the Chinese were at last obliged to leave the island without tribute, and without having exacted the promise of it. This, according to Chinese records, was an unprecedented occurrence when sons of the Flowery Kingdom were dealing with barbarians.