struggling to break into the international system of independent, recognized states, and desperately trying to play the countriesthat harassed it off against each other, new kinds of societies emerged in some of the cities along China’s coast and on the great rivers. These were societies in which ideas and practices developed fast and gradually spread to the rest of China, on matters as diverse as street lighting and company stocks, waterpipes and religious creeds, shipyards and schooling. In business, foreigners and Chinese were linked together from the beginning. In daily life, interactions and observations gradually created much that was new for everyone.
W HILE FOREIGNERS CARVED OUT their parts of China’s cities, other newcomers to urban China were busy carving out theirs. From the mid-nineteenth to the early twentieth centuries, many Chinese cities doubled in size, as Qing restrictions on travel to and residence in the cities faded and more economic opportunities were created. The encounters between Chinese and foreign economies, products, and teachings were among the most important reasons for the urbanization of the late Qing era. But the decrease in official restrictions also played a role, especially for the growth in businesses, organizations, and learning that made the cities attractive. The young people who came to the cities, whether they settled in areas under Chinese or foreign jurisdiction, created new identities for themselves, as workers, traders, shopkeepers, or part of the intelligentsia, in ways that would not have been open to them had Qing power—with its skepticism toward unregulated cities—stayed intact.
The spectacle of change that met newcomers to Shanghai or Wuhan or Tianjin a hundred years ago would almost have been beyond their belief. It was not just the wide streets, trains and tramways, telegraph technology, movie houses, and dance halls that would have excited (and sometimes dismayed) them, it would be the way some people dressed—in skirts, blouses, and suits, rather than gowns—and how they lived—on their own, rather than with their families—that would have seemed odd and new. The presence of foreigners would of coursetitillate, as would the sights and smells of a new kind of city, in which production and transport were moving to the forefront of human consciousness. The new products for sale would also startle, from mirrors to soap, from bicycles to cameras, from corsets to flashlights. Sometimes they found their way into ancient cosmologies, as when mirrors were placed in hallways to ward off evil spirits. More often they were admired and, eventually, copied by local producers with twists that fitted local markets and tastes.
The role of the merchant had increased in urban China from the late fifteenth century on, but it took on a new significance in the late nineteenth century, when China was being drawn into an expanding world economy. The compradors (from the Portuguese word for “buyer”)—Chinese who acted as bicultural middlemen in the trade with foreigners—stood at the center of economic change that was taking place, acting as negotiators, business assistants, or upcountry purchasers for Western companies. Ironically, while it was their cultural skills, primarily in language, that gave them their comparative advantage, the compradors became agents of a new kind of economic rationality in the cities, where the accumulation of capital and the possession of material wealth became the main symbol of status. The Confucian context, in which honor, sincerity, and social relationships were as important as economic gain, was gradually outflanked, as was the position of scholars and even imperial officials. 1
The Chinese cities of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were chaotic places, both for old and new inhabitants. As the Qing, who had, with some justification, prided themselves on their city planning, began to lose control, new forms of authority
W HILE FOREIGNERS CARVED OUT their parts of China’s cities, other newcomers to urban China were busy carving out theirs. From the mid-nineteenth to the early twentieth centuries, many Chinese cities doubled in size, as Qing restrictions on travel to and residence in the cities faded and more economic opportunities were created. The encounters between Chinese and foreign economies, products, and teachings were among the most important reasons for the urbanization of the late Qing era. But the decrease in official restrictions also played a role, especially for the growth in businesses, organizations, and learning that made the cities attractive. The young people who came to the cities, whether they settled in areas under Chinese or foreign jurisdiction, created new identities for themselves, as workers, traders, shopkeepers, or part of the intelligentsia, in ways that would not have been open to them had Qing power—with its skepticism toward unregulated cities—stayed intact.
The spectacle of change that met newcomers to Shanghai or Wuhan or Tianjin a hundred years ago would almost have been beyond their belief. It was not just the wide streets, trains and tramways, telegraph technology, movie houses, and dance halls that would have excited (and sometimes dismayed) them, it would be the way some people dressed—in skirts, blouses, and suits, rather than gowns—and how they lived—on their own, rather than with their families—that would have seemed odd and new. The presence of foreigners would of coursetitillate, as would the sights and smells of a new kind of city, in which production and transport were moving to the forefront of human consciousness. The new products for sale would also startle, from mirrors to soap, from bicycles to cameras, from corsets to flashlights. Sometimes they found their way into ancient cosmologies, as when mirrors were placed in hallways to ward off evil spirits. More often they were admired and, eventually, copied by local producers with twists that fitted local markets and tastes.
The role of the merchant had increased in urban China from the late fifteenth century on, but it took on a new significance in the late nineteenth century, when China was being drawn into an expanding world economy. The compradors (from the Portuguese word for “buyer”)—Chinese who acted as bicultural middlemen in the trade with foreigners—stood at the center of economic change that was taking place, acting as negotiators, business assistants, or upcountry purchasers for Western companies. Ironically, while it was their cultural skills, primarily in language, that gave them their comparative advantage, the compradors became agents of a new kind of economic rationality in the cities, where the accumulation of capital and the possession of material wealth became the main symbol of status. The Confucian context, in which honor, sincerity, and social relationships were as important as economic gain, was gradually outflanked, as was the position of scholars and even imperial officials. 1
The Chinese cities of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were chaotic places, both for old and new inhabitants. As the Qing, who had, with some justification, prided themselves on their city planning, began to lose control, new forms of authority
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