Foreword by Professor John Minford

History plays tricks on us. It is more often than not written by the victors, and its account of events is often dictated and distorted by their political agenda. The complex nature of human reality, the exchange of human ideas, the story of human interactions and achievements, is all too frequently lost with the passage of time. Interesting individuals, men and women whose lives played an important part in the unfolding of a nation's destiny, slip through the net and are too easily forgotten. Sometimes they are deliberately airbrushed out of history.

This year marks the hundredth anniversary of the 1911 or ‘Xinhai’ Revolution. There are many celebrations planned across the Chinese-speaking world: exhibitions, films, stage plays, books, and more. But that event, so far from being a clear-cut, coherent, radically planned revolutionary movement, was more a fragmented series of local uprisings (the prominent scholar Fang Zhaoying described it as ‘poorly organized and almost unpremeditated’).ͥ It did, it is true, ultimately bring about the collapse of the Manchu dynasty, but otherwise it was largely unsuccessful in achieving any meaningful results and ushered in a long period of near-anarchy in China. So far from being a dramatic moment of once-and-for-all change, it was, as the American historian Frederic Wakeman has written, the culmination of gradual processes which had begun during the 1850s, and were the handiwork of the new elites that had emerged during the last half-century of Manchu rule.ͥ ͥ In other words, it was one turning-point in a gradual process of change, a process that is still continuing today. In the words of the ancient classic the I Ching , from the Commentary on the Image for Hexagram 53, Jian, 漸, ‘Gradual Progress’, the process of change is likened to the steady growth of Trees on a Mountain, 山上有木. ‘The True Gentleman abides in Spiritual Strength and Virtue; thus he improves the ways of the people.’ 君子以居賢德善俗. To put matters more simply, when men and women of Good Faith stand by their principles, and attune themselves subtly to the Springs of Change, then the end result will be auspicious, or favourable. Another Hexagram, the 49th, Ge , 革, often translated ‘Revolution’, portrays the natural casting off or stripping away of a skin or hide, the natural (if sometimes rather rough and painful) process of sloughing or moulting. ‘With Good Faith, even something as substantial as a Change of Mandate (gaiming , close to geming, 革命 – the modern word for revolution) is auspicious,’ 有孚改命吉. The message is the same. Revolution in itself is not enough. There must be Spiritual Strength, there must be Good Faith.

This fascinating exhibition is a powerful tribute to some of the lesser-known figures who (though never really ‘in fashion’ and though not much lauded by historians) were part of the extended ferment of ideas of the century leading up to the year 1911 - men who were not ‘revolutionaries’ and whose fame has therefore been diminished in the shade cast by the blinding rays of the ‘revolutionary’ sun. They are represented here by a wide variety of rare documents, letters, books, calligraphy, inkstones. At one end of the spectrum we encounter a number of foreigners – ‘foreign devils' who found themselves in China for one reason or another and engaged with its culture, as missionaries, administrators, soldiers, teachers, translators or diplomats.ͥ ͥ ͥ For each of them the experience was an intense one. If we consider for a moment the extraordinary life of James Legge (1815-1897), Scottish missionary and prolific translator of the Confucian and Taoist classics, we cannot but be amazed at his sheer energy, his utter dedication to the task of understanding and transmitting the fundamental texts of China's classical heritage.ͥ ͮ The fate of Confucius over the past century and a half has been a chequered one – he has been demythologized, denounced, re-interpreted, rehabilitated, denounced again, and only recently has been loudly adopted (in a cynical vein) as the standard-bearer for China's soft power. But if it were not for Legge's valiant efforts in the second half of the 19th century, the wider world would have been altogether ill equipped to understand what the fuss over Confucius and Confucianism was all about. The Ulsterman Robert Hart (1835-1911) played a quite different role. He presided over the establishment of the Chinese Maritime Customs Service, which served thereafter as a pattern for modern and efficient civil service administration in China.ͮ Goldsworthy Lowes Dickinson (1862-1932) was a ‘foreign devil’ of a quite different sort: he understood not a word of Chinese, and knew precious little about the reality of China, but he was convinced that in a previous incarnation he had been Chinese. His eloquent and enormously popular little pamphlet, Letters of John Chinaman, placed in the mouth of a Chinese gentleman-traveller Dickinson’s own high-flown neo-Platonic ideas of the nature of culture and art.ͮ ͥ

The Manchus (themselves in origin ‘foreigners’, but by this time Highly siniczed) have had almost as bad a press in ‘revolutionary’ China as the ‘foreign devils’. And yet there were among the old Manchu elite some eminently cultivated, open-minded and creative individuals. (One should probably include the Guangxu Emperor himself in their ranks.) Take for example Yi Huan, the First Prince Chun (1840-1891, 醇親王奕讙), grandfather of the Last Emperor Pu Yi. Prince Chun is not represented in this exhibition, but his close colleague Li Hongzhang is.ͮ ͥ ͥ Prince Chun was one of many high-placed Manchus caught between an interest in the reformist agenda and the machinations of court politics. He wrote some interesting – if somewhat fin-de-siècle - verses, that have recently been re-discovered and brought back to life in English translation by Vera Schwarz:

Warning

One autumn aroused hatred enough
To last a thousand years,
While the beauty of spring
Vanished in a single night. Shards
Of former splendour defeat
The urge to roam through
Memories of the past.
Like an ill-trained hound, I run in circles,
Between remembering and forgetting.
In my hand a drained cup, a blank page,
No joy in wine, no joy in verse.
How shall I smash these gates?
Paint tigers on these walls?
Warn a doomed generation? ͮ ͥ ͥ ͥ  

The Manchu literati are represented in this exhibition by the inkstone of the great collector Duanfang (1861-1911).ͥ ͯ  Inaddition to being a famous collector of antiques, Duanfang was during his long career as a government official a tireless promoter of modernization and reform. He died on his way to Sichuan, in the chaos surrounding the 1911 uprisings.

One of the greatest and most versatile of all the Chinese scholars of this transitional period – and at the same one of the most ‘reactionary’ by the standards of the revolution, since he was to the bitter end a staunch supporter of the Manchu Imperial House - was Wang Guowei, who drowned himself in Peking in 1927.ͯ In addition to being a vastly learned scholar and critic, Wang was also a fine poet, excelling in the lyric form (ci). The delicacy of his verse can be seen in this example.

To the tune The Butterfly Loves the Flowers

By the road stands a mansion
          A hundred feet high,
Light thunder in the sky,
         In the half-light of dusk
         Or dawn.
At a balcony,
         Alone,
         A maiden idly counts
         The tiny passers-by.
A momentary shower reveals
         Tree-tops
Above the dust
         Of carriage-wheels.
         In mansion and lane
         Age turns to dust again.
Toward evening,
         West wind blows in the rain.
Tomorrow will bring
         More puddles, more pain.ͯ ͥ

Poets seldom fare well in times of political upheaval. There are many late-Qing poets represented in this exhibition. Their presence serves to remind us of the high regard in which old-style connoisseurs once held the classical poetry of that period. That reputation was soon swamped by the tide of ‘new poetry’ (written in the baihua vernacular) that followed the birth of the New Culture Movement in the early years of the Republic. These old-timers wrote in the old classical style, and were masters of their craft. But they were not in tune with the modern age. A good example is Yi Shunding (1858-1920). ͯ ͥ ͥ Yi served briefly under Yuan Shikai during Yuan’s short-lived Restoration, and the experience left a bad taste. He ‘spent his remaining years in taverns and dance halls, losing himself in the pursuit of pleasure.’ ͯ ͥ ͥ ͥ Here is one of his shorter poems.

Dawn Journey

The rustling of yellow leaves quickly wakens me from wine;
Taking my last look at the misty waves, I lose sight of the solitary sail.
The border mountains still elude the visiting swallow,
While the moon and stars seem to follow my horse eastward.
My lingering dream still clings to where the autumn grass is green;
My former companion is still trimming the night lamp's glowing wick.
Where the willows hang may not be the south bank of the Yangtze;
Where can I find a pleasure pavilion to sing in the dawn breeze? ͯ ͥ ͮ

Along with poets, translators were also caught up in the throes of China's transition to modernity. Yan Fu (1853-1921), ͯ ͮ and Lin Shu (1852-1924), ͯ ͮ ͥ were the two most influential translators of this period, Yan in the social sciences, Lin as prolific translator of foreign fiction. A whole generation of Chinese intellectuals devoured their translations. Translation was indeed one of the activities that contributed most to the gradual process of reform and change that took place over this period. As a Buddhist monk of the Song dynasty once commented, ‘translation is change’. A translation recycles, it re-transmits. It produces its effect gradually over a long period, as readers digest the content, the ideas. Translation is therefore in many ways the very antithesis of revolution. Both Yan and Lin remained highly sceptical, not only of the so-called revolution, but of the later (and in some respects more radical) changes urged by the protagonists of the New Culture Movement. Lin was adamantly opposed to the abandonment of the classical language, warning prophetically in a famous open letter that if the ‘new’ education denied students a foundation in the classical language China would become a cultural wasteland. Yan was highly sceptical of the political agenda of the revolution, writing wistfully in 1915: ‘We might have had something like the British political system where the monarch is inactive (wuwei 無為) yet all political affairs proceed in the proper groove... You all know that it has been my firm opinion that when a change in state is carried out too precipitously, the loss in vital energy (yuanqi zhi sun, 元氣之損) may not be restored for decades. That is why I did not approve of what is now vulgarly called a “ revolution”...’ ͯ ͮ ͥ ͥ 

An exhibition was held in Hong Kong earlier this anniversary year, at the Hong Kong Museum of Art, of paintings and calligraphies from the Chih Lo Lou collection of late-Ming/early-Qing yimin painters, painters loyal to the former regime. In the catalogue notes to that exhibition the curator wrote of the collector's concern for the ‘character’ of the artists whose work he purchased. These were men who had witnessed the peril and turmoil suffered by their country, and were ‘too noble and virtuous to bow to the new regime.’ Consequently they ‘sought refuge in religion, solace in painting, realization in martyrdom, self-expression in art and literature, and seclusion in Nature.’ This theme is echoed in the present exhibition, although the Qing-loyalists gathered here have always been profoundly unfashionable, in the first place because they were opposed to the Republic, and later because many of them chose to throw in their lot with the restoration of the Manchu monarchy. History has not been kind to them.

This exhibition provides us with a welcome opportunity to re-visit the period of China’s transition to modernity with a more open mind, to reflect on the vagaries of history, and to re-consider some of the premature judgments of historians and politicians. It will be of especial interest to those of us who return again and again to the question: ‘How has one of human history’s greatest civilizations allowed itself to throw away so much of its grand heritage?’ As we witness the ongoing Chinese struggle to combine economic prosperity with a society in which basic human values are not still cherished, we may find  ourselves according some respect to the more circumspect attitude toward ‘revolution’ of some of these conservatives and cautious reformers. After all, was it not Zhou Enlai himself who famously (and according to some, apocryphally) said to Richard Nixon (or was it Henry Kissinger?) that it was still too early to judge the impact of the French Revolution?

John Minford
Chinese University of Hong Kong,
June 2011

ͥ  Fang in Eminent Chinese of the Ch’ing Period 
(Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1943), p.386.
ͥ ͥ  Frederic Wakeman Jr., The Fall of Imperial China (New York: Free Press, 1975), p. 228.
ͥ ͥ ͥ  The liveliest study of these men is still Jonathan Spence’s To Change China: Western Advisers in China 1620-1960 (New York: Little, Brown, 1969).
ͥ ͮ   Page 59-72. Page 497-502 are related to his famous collaborator, Wang Tao (1828-1897).
ͮ    Page 119-125.
ͮ ͥ   Page 154-160.
ͮ ͥ ͥ  Page 195-213.
ͮ ͥ ͥ ͥ  Vera Schwarcz, Brief Rest in the Garden of Flourishing Grace: Poems of Remembrance and Loss by the Manchu Prince Yihuan (Beverly Hills, California: Red Heifer Press, 2009), p. 73.
 ͥ ͯ  Page 354-357.
 ͯ   Page 803-805.
ͯ ͥ  The translation can be found in Stephen C. Soong’s Song Without Music: Chinese Tz’u Poetry (Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 1980), p. 42.
ͯ ͥ ͥ  Page 622-651.
ͯ ͥ ͥ ͥ  Irving Yucheng Lo and William Schulz, Waiting for the Unicorn: Poems and Lyrics of China’s Last dynasty (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986), p. 369. Another excellent study of the poetry of the Late Qing is to be found in Jon Kowallis, The Subtle Revolution: Poets of the ‘Old Schools’ during Late Qing and Early Republican China (Berkeley: University of California, Press, 2006).
ͯ ͥ ͮ  Based on Timothy Wong’s translation, in Waiting for the Unicorn, p. 370.
ͯ ͮ  Page 602-607.
ͯ ͮ ͥ Page 596-601.
ͯ ͮ ͥ ͥ Benjamin Schwartz, In Search of Wealth and Power: Yen Fu and the West (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1964), p. 226.

Foreword by Mr. Yeung Chun-tong

中國自商周以來，雖歷經戰國、南北朝、五代、金元等動盪不安，但皇權專制仍舊根深蒂固，統治者得以霸權來構建他們的家天下。即便經濟蕭條，民不聊生，老百姓仍默默守護家園、靠著幾畝瘦田，勉強過活。中國人口以農民佔絕大多數，他們保守、善良，除非難以糊口，才會走向革命。相反地，知識份子雖佔少數，卻能考取功名，做官致富，進而成為社會上的特權階級。

中國史上改朝換代之模式，常見漢人不敵周邊四夷，故有北朝、及遼、金、元、清等少數民族所建立之王朝。除此之外，便是少數野心官僚，利用農民起義，來推翻當朝政府，進而建立屬於自己的鴻圖霸業。如是者至十九世紀，中國才不得不屈服在西方國家的船堅炮利之下，數千年來的世襲君主制度自此即遭瓦解。

中西之間的文化交流，鮮以危及固有之皇權政治體系。然而，鴉片戰爭打破了清廷「天朝上國」的藩籬，西方國家在進行文化交流之餘，更藉此爭取商業利益，從而挑戰清廷的昏庸無能。

帝王權臣自此再難坐享富貴。其首要目標，是如何與西方列強抗衡，以力保其帝權官位之穩定。十九世紀的中國再不能獨善其身，其首要之道，在於如何與整個西方世界兼容並蓄。一些有識之士雖愛國心切，力謀獻策，卻礙於外語能力，無法汲取西學，藉以消弭中西歧見，從而達到共識。

正當西方人士在中國埋首進行商業文化及政治意識操控活動之際，以孫中山為首的革命黨人開始意識到，單靠「師夷之長技以制夷」，甚或「中體西用」之理論是不足以挽回華夏民族之頹勢。中國之自救，是必須推翻封建帝制，建立民主共和。

本館十分感謝宋緒康先生組辦這展覽，將藏品彙集編印成書，以實物介紹出活躍於十九至二十世紀初的中外歷史人物，其意義之重大，實難一語道破。近代百年歷史於國人而言，可謂刻骨銘心。

願前人之浩氣，啟今人之高志，愛國之情，以此共勉。

香港大學美術博物館總監 楊春棠

Foreword by Mr. Wu Chih-chang

從晚清到民國是一段不堪回首的回憶：戰敗、割地、賠款，天朝大國瞬間變成四夷蹂躪的肥肉。 知識份子開始思索中國衰落的原因，以及因應的辦法。於是在當時一批開明大臣的領導下發動了洋務運動，廢科舉、辦學校、建立新式海軍、成立造船廠、建立現代化陸軍、各地成立軍校、設國立編譯館、派大臣出國考查、派小學生出國留學等等。

洋務運動以歷史眼光看來，可謂兼俱了質與量，規模不可謂不宏大，思慮不可謂不週密。

但是甲午之戰，北洋艦隊與日本海軍一戰竟全軍覆沒。 到底怎麼回事呢？「中學為體，西學為用」錯了嗎？「師夷長技以制夷」難道錯了嗎？西方物質文明發達，中國綿延了幾千年的精神文明是否還有價值？

中國知識份子在驚愕之餘，漸漸意識到富國強兵之道不僅是船堅砲利。船堅砲利背後的原因是什麼？中國積弱的原因是什麼？ 根據失敗經驗，根據知識份子對西方的認識，中國展開了以五四運動為代表的啟蒙運動。啟蒙運動的主題是知識份子發覺救亡圖存之道不在船堅砲利，而是中國文明出了問題。中國落後不限於物質文明，胡適之甚至認為文明不該分精神文明、物質文明，一個科技發達的社會不可能只有物質文明，於是有用「西化」促使國家的富強。而日本從「蘭學」(全國瘋狂地學習荷蘭的科技、歷史、文化) 到全面西化，對中國人而言不但是一個刺激，也是一個成功的案例。

西化被知識份子普遍接受以後又產生了資本主義、社會主義之爭，親俄、親美之爭。西安事變，八年抗戰使國府在大陸的政權陷入絕境，也終止了國府的建國方略。淪落在一個叢爾小島的國民政府，歷經數十年的勵精圖治，創造了臺灣的經濟奇蹟，跨出了中國人有史以來民主、法治的第一步。

中共建政，歷經各種內鬥、文革，鄧小平改革開放以後，短短數十年，中國已經和平崛起。

回顧近百年中國歷史，富強之路何其漫漫，如今世界已成一家，「西化」一詞也早不適用。今天的文明已經朝向世界文明發展，文化之間的差異性越來越小，西方文明早已悄悄地融入了中國元素。我們追求的是現代化，而每一段人類歷史都有不同面貌的「現代化」，拒絕現代化就是任何一個文明衰落的主要原因。

如今海峽兩岸都向現代化之路飛躍前進。

路是一步一步走出來的，何況中國現代化之路如此崎嶇。中國每一代的知識份子在現代化的道路上都付出過心力、血汗。回顧一幕一幕血肉橫飛，哀鴻遍野的場景，我們應該對所有在現代化過程中盡過心力的前輩致敬。

宋緒康先生是這一代年青人中的異類，遠絕聲色之娛，而醉心於收藏近代人物遺留的文墨、字畫、書札等等。曾左李胡之外，還包括了郭嵩燾、鄭觀應等現代化重要人物的文墨。每當我親眼看到這些珍貴文物時，見物思人，感動莫名。

宋緒康先生年輕，但對中國文化，中國未來前途充滿關懷。筆者有幸多次欣賞宋先生的收藏，又在多次深談之後，感觸良多。欣聞宋先生的收藏能在香港展出，特提筆為文抒發感懷，並向宋先生致敬。

Foreword by Professor Ho Kuang-yen

摯友宋緒康先生，當代著名建築設計師，浙江吳興人。其父祖歷代於有清之世皆任循吏而富文物收藏。

余經沈映冬丈介紹，二零零五年秋際與先生結識於臺北，時已由香江赴寶島任教華梵大學東方人文思想研究所有年矣。翌年八、九月間，先生展覽其先世珍藏文物、文獻於香港大學美術博物院，其所編「五世文采•一個詞人的翰墨因緣」一書則邀余撰序。嗣是二人交往日親，晤對日多，或談文論藝，或品藻人物，忽忽不自知樂又五歲矣！

二零零九年暑假，余年近古稀，退休返港。二載以還，仍常因事奔走港、臺間，往必促膝作深談。由是藉悉先生苦心擘畫「辛亥百年」展覽會，今年且將就緒，並命名其會為「烽火山河•外夷與志士•一八三九至一九一一」。

然先生既傾個人之力，費數年寶貴流光，耗盡財力為展覽作籌備，其目的何在？其意向若何？初，余均無所曉悉也。

本年五月下旬，先生經林樂瑋君電郵文字一篇，其文無標題，細揣內容，乃為展覽會目錄書所撰引言也。引言約分三段，玆迻錄如次，並略書讀後感言於下：

吾家先世浙江吳興， 先太高祖月樵公道光九年進士，官福建建陽知縣。 先高祖鶴訪公官福建候補道。 先曾祖子鶴公官兩浙鹽運副使，山西河東鹽運使兼馬步全軍緝私統領。 先祖父鶴孫公官兩浙鹽運知事。皆歷涉清室仕途。

以上為第一段。先生歷記其先世由太高祖月樵公，迄於祖父鶴孫公四代為宦，「歷涉清室仕途」。蓋吳興宋氏食君之祿既久，余因以推知其對愛新覺羅一姓必有效忠報恩之心結，此端視後二段文字可知。

引言第二段曰：

鼎革後， 先曾祖子鶴公遷居海上租界， 先祖父鶴孫公蓄辮明志，以遺老自見，歿於抗戰。 先君馨菴公（諱訓倫）生於宣統二年，嘗以未能應試為憾。

以上為第二段。引言謂鼎革後曾祖遷居上海租界，祖父蓄辮明志，以遺老自見，即其尊翁馨菴公亦以未能應科舉為憾。此亦均出自宋氏數代忠清情結。竊謂人各有志，他人固未應以此事判宋氏祖孫忠清之是非曲直也。

引言第三段曰：

緬懷晚清，非盡私情，實追念儒家蘊育之仁人志士，功業震撼一代，至今使吾輩動容。猶憶舊文化之鼎盛於中土，而感劫後之世。辛亥百年，更合追溯現代思想、科學、工業啟蒙時之關鍵人物；無晚清之基礎，豈有民國之收穫。如上即本展覽暨編目錄書之初衷。

以上為第三段。細揣此段文意，或可求得先生籌辦展覽會之目的與意向。蓋先生認為際茲「辛亥百年」，吾儕「緬懷晚清，非盡私情」。文中有兩點證據可明先生意者，即一、晚清之世深受「儒家蘊育之仁人志士，功業震撼一代，至今使吾輩動容」之情事，實有待吾人追念者也；二、又其時深具「現代思想、科學、工業啟蒙之關鍵人物」，彼等開風氣之先，帶領新潮流，所奠定之豐功偉績，則更應待吾儕以追溯。故先生歸納出一顛撲不破之結論為：「無晚清之基礎，豈有民國之收穫。」以表彰晚清之功勳。據上所考述，則可推知先生苦心孤詣以籌辦紀念辛亥百年展覽會，其目的固在提醒吾人須「緬懷晚清」，並要時刻追念其時之「仁人志士」，尤須追溯當時「關鍵人物」所開創之豐功偉績。先生對晚清成就有此弘深之識見，及其所懷抱發潛德幽光之意念，較諸乃祖「蓄辮明志，以遺老自見」之表現，其境界蓋等而上之矣！

二零一一年六月六日，
何廣棪撰於香港樹仁大學
中國語言文學系