W a y m a r k s ~: Red Fort at Tamsui

My first visit to Taiwan was unexpected and entirely unplanned. I’d been working in Beijing and then Shanghai for over a month in the summer of 2006 when I was suddenly asked to fly onwards to Taipei to attend a meeting at the National Palace Museum. I had been due to travel onwards to Tokyo on leave once I’d finished in Shanghai but thankfully my leave was delayed rather than cancelled in order to accommodate this little detour. The changes to my travel arrangements all happened so quickly that it was only whilst I was in transit (i.e. – actually sitting on the plane flying to Taipei, via Macau, and now coming in to land), when it first occurred to me that I had no idea whether or not I needed a visa to enter Taiwan! – Looking back, I don’t suppose they would have let me board the plane had a needed one, but nevertheless, I still felt a little uneasy as I wandered through the airport terminal towards the immigration counters not knowing what to expect – but then I saw a big sign directing (and more importantly listing) the visa exempt countries to a particular queue. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as it felt like a minor diplomatic faux pas had been narrowly averted.

It was around this time too that I was just getting started on my research into the colonial era in China and Tibet, and the history of the British Consular Service in China in particular – hence I was rather intrigued to see the flag of the old Republic still flying proudly over the airport in Taipei. Indeed, the landing card I had to fill out was headed ‘The Republic of China (ROC).’ I’d never really thought about this fact before. I knew this island was where the KMT (Kuomintang) had retreated to in 1949 when they were ousted following the civil war with the CCP (Chinese Communist Party), but growing up in the UK it had always been referred to as ‘Taiwan’ and so that’s how I had always thought of it up until that moment. Realising I still had much to learn this initial trip only served to deepen my curiosity. I’m sure it was in a large part due to this quirk of fate, working on so many exhibitions in Asia at this time, that I was drawn deeper and deeper into the topic which would eventually turn into the research for my current PhD studies. Indeed this was only the first of many such trips to Taiwan, working on a number of different exhibition projects with colleagues who have become close friends at the National Palace Museum. And similarly, several more times working in Shanghai with good friends at the Shanghai Museum as well. In both cities I spent my free time exploring the old colonial remnants, hunting out old buildings from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries built variously by the banks, trading companies, and government officials of America, Japan, and several different European countries, including Britain. The colonial building which interested me most in Taipei was the Red Fort at Tamsui (or Danshui, meaning ‘fresh water’ 淡水).

Tamsui is actually situated some ten miles or so downriver from the centre of Taipei. It is very easy to reach on the city’s Metro system, with Tamsui located at the end of the Tamsui-Xinyi (or Red) line. The last couple of miles of the train ride into Tamsui has some spectacular views of the river which has stretches of mangrove trees growing along the water’s edge. Taiwan is the most northerly latitude at which you will find mangroves. It makes for a wonderful sight with the towering peak of Guanyin Mountain rising up from the opposite shore. There’s quite a lot of wildlife to see here too. My friends and I were all mesmerised to see an army of colourful crabs, each with one enormous claw hand, aggressively picking rather comical-looking fights with one another in the mud at low tide. Being so close to Taipei, Tamsui is a popular spot for a day-out at weekends. It has the feel of a seaside holiday town with souvenir shops, restaurants and cafes lining the riverside promenade with people strolling along eating ice cream and candyfloss in the sunshine. Regular boat trips head across the river, and then carry on down to the point where the river meets the open sea before turning back; you can hop on and off the boats in order to explore along the way. It was on such a boat trip that I first caught a glimpse of the Red Fort – rather fittingly, as this is how most old colonial types would have first seen it when arriving by steamer, as the Tamsui River was the main northern trading port on Taiwan, or Formosa, as the island was more commonly known at the time (the principal southern port being at Takow, or present day Kiaohsiung).

Red Fort, Tamsui, 1925

The Red Fort has a long history dating back to 1628 when a wooden fort was built here by the Spanish, who named it Fort San Domingo. The fort was later destroyed by the Spanish shortly before they quit it in 1642, when conceding defeat in a short battle with the Dutch who felt that the Spanish were unjustly impinging upon their established trade interests in the region. The Dutch rebuilt the fort, but this time it was much stronger and more substantial having been built using brick and stone. The Dutch renamed it Fort Antonio, after the Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies, Anthony Van Diemen. Essentially, excepting a few architectural modifications carried out over the intervening years, it is still this building which stands today. The government of the Qing Dynasty took over control of the fort from 1683 to 1867. During this period the Chinese added a stone wall to enclose the entire compound with four gateways (only one of which still survives). The fort became the diplomatic base of the British at the close of the second Opium War in 1868. The British took on a lease of the site in perpetuity, paying the Qing government “10 silver coins” a year to use the site as a Consulate (I’m not sure if that’s ten taels or ten silver dollars Mex., but I suspect the latter). And it was the British who first painted it red, however, it had been known as the red fort before this because the locals had referred to the Dutch as “red-haired people” – previously the fort had always been painted white. Wandering around the place today it can feel eerily evocative, especially if you find yourself alone in some of the long forgotten rooms. The fort and consular residence still have that faded air and atmosphere of exile characteristic of a good setting for a short story by Joseph Conrad. It’s easy to imagine stumbling upon a Kaspar Almayer, an Axel Heyst, or a Lord Jim-type lounging in the humid torpor of one of the back rooms; a ceiling fan turning languidly overhead as our despondent colonial antihero sits dosing in an armchair, his head resting on a starched anti-macassar, and the half-smoked stub of a forgotten cheroot lazily smouldering between his dangling fingers …

Consul's Residence, Tamsui, 1891

Consul's Residence, Tamsui, 1911

In 1891 the British upgraded the Consul’s residence, adding a second storey. Built of red brick it is a classic example of Victorian-era colonial architecture. Wide verandas with ornate green ceramic balustrades surround each floor, helping to keep the interior shaded and cool during the intense heat and humidity of the summertime. It looks very similar to the old consular residence, built around the same time, which still stands in the grounds of the British Embassy in Seoul. I had a good view of this old building from my hotel room during one of my stays in Seoul whilst working on an exhibition at the National Museum of Korea in 2010 (I was sure I’d taken a photograph of this building, but if I did frustratingly I now can’t find it!). We were lucky enough on that trip to get to know the Ambassador and were even invited to drinks at the Embassy, but delays caused by the eruption of the Icelandic volcano, Eyjafjallajökull, meant we had to work late in order to get the exhibition open on time and so sadly we weren’t able to take up his very kind offer. I was deeply disappointed at the time (and still am actually) as I was dying to get a closer look at this old consulate building. I was also dying to know if the Ambassador really would “spoil us with Ferrero Rocher chocolates” too!

Herbert Allen Giles

The red fort and consular residence at Tamsui were staffed by a number of different consuls through the years, some more notable than others. The most notable for my family was Sir Alwyne Ogden who was here for a time in the mid-twentieth century. In 1922 he was the acting-consul at Chengdu in Sichuan who officiated at the marriage ceremony of Louis King and Rinchen Lhamo, apparently amidst exploding shells – rather like the dinner scene from Carry On Up the Khyber, one imagines! (see here). The most notable resident though was undoubtedly Herbert Allen Giles, who was Consul at Tamsui from 1885 to 1891. Giles went on to become the most famous sinologist of his time. He was Professor of Chinese at Cambridge University for 35 years. His greatest work was perhaps his modification of the romanisation system of Chinese, originally devised by Thomas Wade, which remained the standard form until the official introduction of Pinyin in 1958 by the government of the People’s Republic (mainland China). Use of the Wade-Giles system persists in the instance of certain well-known personal and place names, particularly in Taiwan. One of Giles’ sons, Lionel, also a sinologist, was Keeper of Oriental Antiquities at the British Museum from 1936 to 1940. Another son, Lancelot, like his father before him entered the Consular Service in China. Soon after joining the Service Lancelot was present at the siege of the Legations in Peking (Beijing) during the Boxer Uprising in the summer of 1900 – he wrote a diary of the siege in the form of letters to his father, which I wrote about for the Royal Asiatic Society in Shanghai’s China Journal (see here). The National University of Australia holds a fantastic archive of photographs of early twentieth century China from Lancelot’s family (see here).

The old fort and consular residence were eventually returned to the authorities in Taiwan by the British Government in 1980. It has been listed for preservation as a site of important cultural interest, and following the completion of restoration works in 2005 it has been open to the public as a museum. I’ve visited it several times since my first glimpse of it from a boat zipping up the Tamsui River in early 2007. As a British person it’s quite interesting (and rather amusing) to see the urban archaeology of what odds and ends HM Government left behind which have been exhumed and dusted off for display – I was particularly tickled by the “official chops”, or rubber stamps “supplied for the Government Service” by HMSO, which the museum now have neatly arrayed in showcases. Even today official stamps very similar to these ones are still in daily use where I work at the British Museum! … It’s interesting too that even the Monarch herself got left behind in this seemingly long forgotten old colonial outpost ... God Save the Queen, eh! – I’m glad though when lovely old buildings such as this one have been saved and preserved for the future. So often these days the fate of such historic buildings is that they are knocked down, or gutted and converted into a swanky bar or restaurant. I wonder what old Herbert Allen Giles would make of the place now?