Located between Changhua City and Lukang Town in central Taiwan, Mahsing, a village in the rural township of Hsiushui, is an ordinary small community on the northern Changhua plain. Red brick tile roofs atop brick walled houses dot fields of green rice and golden vegetable flowers, a scene animated by the wind. Several small grocery stores are sited along the locale's only small street, for most of the year so quiet it gives off its own aura of peacefulness. At the end of the quiet street is a large and ancient old house belonging to members of the Chen clan. The residence is called Mahsingyiyuan Ta Tsuo (the huge home on Yiyuan Lane in Mahsing Village).
Mahsingyiyuan was built in the 26th year (1846) of the Ching Emperor Taokuang by Chen Wen-hua, the eldest son of clan pioneer Chen Hsueh-pin. The ancient building has thus had a history of 137 years, not including the more than ten years it was under construction. It is sited on a compound of more than 3,800 ping (136,800 square feet); the floor space of the buildings covers 3,000 ping.
In the past, during the "flowering" period of the clan, on two sides of the red-brick structure, which envelops three lao (courtyards), more than 6,000 extra ping of land was cultivated by the Chen family's farm hands. This residence is not only the biggest, extant old Chinese home in Changhua, but the 5econd largest of its kind on the whole island, smaller only than the razed Lin Family Home in Panchiao, and the extant but modified Lin Family Residence at Wufeng.
The present day offspring of the clan do not know exactly how much land the family owned during its heyday, only that during the two harvests of each year, the grain crop covered the entire outer and inner cheng (squares or courtyards), turning them into stretches of gold. They recall the harvest scene, set off against azure skies, red roof tiles, and brick residential walls—resplendent and prosperous. However, the scene has not been witnessed now for a number of years. Though the warm sunshine of February can only be enjoyed in cloudless central Taiwan, and continues to beam on the broad, empty harvest squares of the Chen residence, yet it can not dispel the loneliness that now lingers there.
Temporarily listed as a second-grade historical site by the Ministry of Interior, this traditional residence has suffered from a lack of maintenance, merely lying wait as it were for many years; still, its outer appearance has been little affected. Most important of all is the significance of its very existence. In the main compound buildings for example, the successive facade formed by the tangwu (the central area of a one-story Chinese traditional house, consisting of rooms in a row) and the hulung ("the dragon that protects"—structures that surround the main U-shaped building in the quadrangle) is longer than those at the former residences of the Lin families of Panchiao and Wufeng. Besides, its appearance and spacing are remarkably organized. The plane structures of the old complex express the orders of seniority in human relationships, of a big family in the traditional Chinese farming society. It is a stately residence befitting the historical significance of the forefathers of the Chen clan, who before contributing so greatly to the growth of this ancient house, risked their lives as immigrants to this island. Barehanded and under adverse circumstances, they struggled to live here, to develop the land, and to hew out a path for their posterity.
Within a short period of time, the immigrant Chens owned a great stretch of land and became the richest and most influential family in the area. The construction of the big house glorified the whole clan. Three of the family's off-spring became successful candidates in the provincial level Imperial examinations of the Ching Dynasty and entered politics. The clan prospered.
Then in 1952, the ROC government instituted its policy of land reform—land to the tiller. And while the entire farm population of the island began to prosper, the Chen clan and other rural dynasties fell into decline. Four years earlier, members of the family got wind of the impending reform program and started to sell their land holdings at Wuchi, Shalu, Chingshui, Lungching, Tatu, Shetou.... The members of the clan left the old home one by one to seek new livelihoods, and to take advantage of advanced education in Taiwan's burgeoning cities. In no more than a few years, the residential population of the huge edifice had become a mere fragment. Currently, only four clan households still live on there—or rather stand guard.
This course of history—which has seen island industry taking the place of farming over recent decades—climaxes more than two hundred years of Taiwan farming experience. The Mahsingyiyuan dwelling has stood witness for almost 140 of those years.
Geographically, the old house still controls the "orientation" of northern Changhua. The very existence of the massive, traditional home satisfies the longings of those on the island who cling to the sweet memories of the traditional Chinese family system. However, its present status soon sets visitors musing over an increasingly remote past, stirring wistful sighs from the bottom of many a heart.
The area about Mahsing is rather flat and smooth, fertile soil crisscrossed by irrigation canals and ditches. Originally, it was a dwelling place for elements of the Pingpu aboriginal tribe, who made their living via hunting and simple tilling and planting. Nevertheless, it was a land of wilderness. Then, during the final years of the Ming Dynasty, a member of General Koxinga's military staff, Liu Kuo-hsuan, once sent troops here to force the tribesmen to engage in farming. That was the first recorded instance of the Han (Chinese) people deliberately setting out to cultivate fallow land on the island. Even though the attempt was not very successful, from that time on, again and again, the officials recruited immigrants—Han people—to open up the land. The fierce and independent local tribes could not be converted.
The situation continued along the same lines until the early years of the Ching Dynasty, when Han immigrants poured into the island via the sea route to southern Taiwan-from Amoy in Fukien Province. The immigrants first settled the coastal areas, then gradually moved into the hinterland. Aware of the great disparity in numerical strength, like Indians in areas of the American continents, the tribesmen withdrew slowly to the nearby Mt. Pakua area. Han villages, clustered amid dense bamboo groves, became a feature of the vast, open fields. Mahsing became a Han village during the early years of Emperor Chienlung of the Ching Dynasty.
The foremost pioneer of the Chen clan, Chen Hsueh-pin, came to this island during the final years of Emperor Chien lung, long after the initial immigrants. At that time, Lukang town had already become the second largest trading port in Taiwan, counting more than 10,000 residents. And Changhua, following years of extremely hard and bitter development, had become the political heart of central Taiwan. Villages between the "big cities" of Lukang and Changhua were almost entirely controlled by Han people. The hostile attitude of the local tribes toward the Han settlers had now largely disappeared. The general living environment had improved. Lying before those with the will and the energy was land, waiting to be opened up. Those who were able and ready to work hard—and persistently—could look forward to a bright future.
According to Chen Chia-chen, a seventh generation member of the Taiwan branch of the clan and the current caretaker of the old home, the pioneer scion of the clan, Chen Hsueh-pin, arrived at Wuchi Harbor in Taiwan from Tungkang in Fukien Province, in the 57th year (1792) of the reign of Emperor Chienlung. He brought with him from the Chinese mainland only a laborer's carrying pole, which is known to his posterity as the Hung Pien Tan (red carrying pole, as it is now covered with a red cloth to symbolize its preciousness).
Chia-chen first made his home beside a grain storehouse outside the south city gate of Changhua. For a certain period of time, he relied on the carrying pole to carry betel nuts, selling them on the streets to make a living. He saved some money, got married, and had four sons.
For descendant Chen Chia-chen, now almost 80 but looking no more than 60, stories passed down by senior members of the clan about the red carrying pole seem incredible. The pioneer's wife, it was said, bought a neighbor's pig: it was sick and refused to eat the leftovers given the other pigs, so she was able to buy it for a very low price. When she fed it, she would stir the food with the carrying pole and talk to it, "Creature, creature, now you are mine." To her surprise, the pig got well. In such ways, due to the carrying pole's magic power, the couple earned enough money so their offspring could study and make their own progress.
The pioneer's eldest son, Chen Rong-hua, grew up and married a girl from Mahsing village and began to work on his wife's family's land. And that was the critical point in the rise of the Chen clan. In just a few decades, Chen Rong-hua, an outsider, rose abruptly among the local farmers, who were opening fallow land in the same area. Because he came to own a land area of more than several hundred hectares, the Chen family grew prominent.
About 1830, during the reign of Emperor Taokuang of the Ching Dynasty, the big Chen residence was begun, and the site was surrounded with drainage ditches, ponds, and bamboo groves. Funds for the house were collected from clan members by Chen Rong-hua. Builders, artisans, and painters were especially brought from Changchow in Fukien Province on the mainland. And all of the materials—stones, wood, and bricks— were also transported from the mainland. Huge stone slabs served as ballast in the bottom of a ship before they were offloaded at Wuchi Harbor. Timber was procured from Mt. Wuyi in Fukien Province.
In 1846, the compound was completed. Built to house the families of Chen Hsueh-pin's four sons, the residence was so impressive that no other building on the Changhua plain could compare with it. It became a focus of envy.
"The site is divided into several sections," explained Chen Chia-chen, who besides managing the old house was chief of Hsiushui township for ten years. He held the red carrying pole as he stood in front of the main gate of the complex.
"There are the outer and inner cheng (threshing grounds) separated by Ta Men Lou (the first gate of the complex): the ancestral hall's three sides are surrounded by rooms in the shape of a U: a hall-temple dedicated to the Goddess of Mercy is to the back of the ancestral hall, and is also surrounded by rooms to three sides, shaped like a U: the hulung protects the two U-shaped buildings. There are also a garden and a fishpond," added Chen Pang-hung, Chen Chia-chen's son, now director of a family aid center in Changhua.
Within the complex—Neighborhood children now come to play and dream
Standing before the first gate, Chen Chia-chen turned his head toward the outer cheng, which covers a land area of 0.2 hectare. When Taiwan was occupied by the Japanese, this was a floor for drying grains. Now, it is idle. The two original guard towers on either corner of the first gate have long collapsed: no trace is to be found. In the estate's prime, more than several dozens of farm houses for tenant workers were built on the east and west side of the outer cheng, the land extending for more than two hectares. According to Chen Chia-chen, in the old days, trenches and bamboo groves surrounded the mansion, serving also as important defensive installations.
The three Chinese characters Chen Ssu Yu (Four Sons of the Family Pioneer) are inscribed on the first gate. It opens with a creak, revealing to visitors the spacious inner cheng, 50 meters wide and 70 meters long. A row of houses in the right front of this inner threshing ground is dwarfed by a tall, dark-green mango tree, bountiful with yellow flowers. To the left front of the inner cheng is a residence inhabited by the Chen Chia-chen family some years ago. Two stone flagpole holders stand along the center line of the open ground.
"In 1858, during the reign of Emperor Hsienfung of the Ching Dynasty," Chen Chia-chen proudly reiterated a preamble passed down from seniors of the family, "Chen Pei-sung of the third generation became a successful candidate in the Imperial examinations at the provincial level. After he returned from a trip to the mainland to perform rites in honor of our ancestors there, a pair of flagpoles with stone holders was erected in the inner cheng to mark the honor." Though later, two more clan off-spring passed Imperial examinations at the same level, because they did not go back to the mainland to pay ritual honor to their ancestors, they were not allowed to erect similar nags.
As visitors' hands were touching the cold stone flagpole holder, their eyes staring at the flying swallowtail eaves of the entrance (second gate) to the ancestral hall, children were happily chasing one another on bicycles. Chen Pang-hung, the elder Chen's son, now near 40, began to muse aloud over memories of his own past. It seems that the kids, actually from neighboring families, suddenly seemed reincarnations of himself and his cousins. In those happy days, they were all quick to climb trees, swim in nearby rivers and the backyard pond, play at marbles, whip tops, and compete at hopscotch. The memory of all this is in the very dust and soil round the old house. "It remains so fresh in my memory—On a summer's night, my rather and I would lie against a flagpole holder and listen to the seniors' endless stories of the house. We would not go to our rooms until the depth of the night," he said.
His eyes glanced across a long deserted well, and he suddenly became animated—more talkative, "The whole village depended upon it. Everyday at dawn, more than a dozen of us, aged no more than ten, would rush to the well, take off our clothes, and take a shower from the bucket. Those who were late had to wall under the longan tree. However, four or five years after Taiwan's retrocession, the well began to lose its importance, finally to become only a minor feature of this almost empty home." He lowered his voice to almost a murmur, again losing himself in olden days that would return, only in dreams.
Chen Chia-chen, still shouldering the red carrying pole, now walked slowly toward the second gate, or men ting. Before inserting the key to open the time-gnawed wooden gate leaves, he told the visitors of a thing he had forgotten to mention. "See that tall mango tree?" He then pointed toward a building behind the tree. "Over there used to be a garden. The stone tables and stone block seats were a place where learned men would gather to recite poetry and sip wine". Now, with the grass there taller than a man, none of the visitors could see any trace of a gathering place.
While the house was still under construction, the Chen family was still but a rich farming family and did not emphasize a residence style for men of letters. However, because there was so much space for the home, and because of the expensive building materials and other indications of the richness of the family, the Chen clan gradually cultivated a little of the flavor of reading as well as tilling. However, in general, the traditional Taiwanese home still identifies itself as the property of a farming culture.
Chen Chia-chen pointed once again toward the right front from the vantage of the second gate and told another story: "In 1894, the 20th year of Emperor Kuanghsu of the Ching Dynasty, the Sino-Japanese War broke out. The Ching court railed, and ceded Taiwan to Japan. During the early stages of Japanese occupation, the Japanese officials, making the excuse that the war was not over, governed via military measures. They set up the so-called Pao Liang Chu (Bureau to Protect Law-Abiding People) in the Mahsing area. Chen Pei-chia of the third generation of the clan was assigned to the post of counselor in charge of the affairs of the Bureau. The office of the Bureau was also the office for general affairs of the Chen clan. To the south of the office, three houses were built for the staff members of the Bureau. These were in use until the retrocession of Taiwan "
During the Japanese occupation, Chen Tien-sheng of the fourth generation and Chen Yi-ru of the fifth, became chiefs of Mahsing District. Their office was the old office inside the big family compound. In 1945, when Taiwan was returned to China, Chen Chia-chen of the seventh generation was appointed to be the first chief of Hsiushui. At the time, the Chen clan numbered more than four hundred, most of them living in this old house.
Chen Chia-chen now raced the second gate, the men ting. The tablet above the eroded upper door frame carries the title Wen Kuei (Eminent Scholar), awarded by Emperor Hsien-fung to honor Chen Pei-sung of the third generation upon his emergence as the top scholar in the Imperial examinations at the provincial level. The expectations of the kai chi ma (old pioneer's wire), that her posterity would dedicate themselves to culture and education, had come to pass. The swallowtail eaves on this particular entrance, symbol of an official family, bespeak the family's heightened social status. On each side of the gate gable is a design, a book and a sword, the symbol of an official family.
Located at the center of the facade of the central building within the compound, the gate is the main entrance to the ancestral hall and other connecting houses, which are in the shape of a U. Depressions in either side of the gate hold doors, racing each other, and painted blue with overlying designs of flowers and grass, and relief carving. Simple designs decorate the lower walls. All the wooden and brick decorations here are exquisitely done. Even in the past, the two wooden leaves of this gate were kept closed, except for festivals and special occasions. At other times, people used the side doors.
Chen Chia-chen opened the gate for his curious visitors, revealing a small courtyard before the ancestral hall. Instead of walking on to the hall, the old man approached a wall close to the gate gable. "This is called the stone window," he said, pointing at a window with stone bars. "In the past, women were not allowed to go out and watch Taiwanese operas being performed on the inner cheng. The window was adapted to their purpose. A platform was built for them so they could look out the window at what was happening outside the wall."
Chen Chia-chen faced the ancestral hall and adopted a solemn and respectful expression. Called Shangyi Hall (Hall of Upholding Righteousness), it is the spiritual center of the whole Mahsingyiyuan compound. The Kung Ma Kan (the shrine dedicated to the pioneer couple of the family) is the focal point of the hall. Eight portraits of the illustrious ancestors who had brought such fame and glory to the family are hung high over the shrine. Dilapidated paintings and calligraphic works by unknown people hang on the wooden walls. The exposed wooden brackets and detail work on the beams, the strength and beauty revealed in the shape of the eaves, the incense burner caught to spider webs and holding several ends of incense, the old-fashioned ritual square for eight people, time-worn wooden chairs against opposite walls of the hall—one can easily see that it was and is a building of grandeur and magnificence.
"During the first few years after Taiwan was returned to China, due to the large size of our clan, for the Lunar New Year, even two tables like these were not big enough for the ritual items," Chen Chi a-chen noted. "For many years, with the portraits of our most outstanding ancestors, were hung now broken old-fashioned lanterns with auspicious messages on their gauze shades, such as Tien Ting (Begetting Sons) and Ho Chia Ping An (Safe and Sound, the Whole Family). This corroded old incense burner would dance occasionally when the wind blew.
"I was told that it represented the so-called 'fishnet pit' in geomancy, a good omen," Chen Chia-chen gazed at the back yard, now lying waste, with a look of rapture. "Even when I was young, the beautiful gardens within the compound existed no longer," Chen Pang-hung volunteered.
The Chen clan was once a household term in the Changhua area. Several thousand hectares of their land was distributed around the island. More than a hundred maids, farm hands, and tenants worked for them. Everything about the family would be discussed with great relish.
"When my rather was still alive, he never grew tired of telling us that the rice container for the farm hands and tenants was a huge wooden barrel. Gongs were beaten to call them to meals. How I wish that scene still existed," sighed Chen.
The grand house is a structure that took its shape within the idea of the big, successful family in the traditional Chinese rural society. Its importance was not only in the messages of its particular outer appearance, but also in the internal order it expressed. The order, rooted deeply in the concept of a strict morality and seniority in human relationships, nurtured the ties of family members through the several thousand years of Chinese history.
The recent years have seen a major transformation of the island's society, gradually submerging the old concept of the soil, so deeply rooted in the minds of our ancestors. The old mansion has finally become redundant. No longer do treasures in golden grain dry on the cheng, nor do family elders sit and chat as the children laugh and play among the buildings. Gone even is the smoke, once curling upward constantly from numerous kitchen chimneys.
Over the mansion's historic roofs, suns have risen and fallen for 140 years. Time has changed generations, marked its passage in the growth rings of trees, and also on the weather-beaten doorsills, curving eaves, and venerable walls of the old building.
But the clan goes on, at the present time, to the ninth generation, counting more than four hundred present clansmen.
And in the afterglow of a historic glory, the imposing house still manages an air of prideful solemnity, serenity, and elegance-in the words of German philosopher Oswald Spengler, "Everything here has a history and itself is a history."
The visitors, escorted by the rather and son of the Chen family, walked slowly from the residence complex, looking back to read couplets inscribed on the main entrance to the ancestral hall:
"Since, our forebears, by means of their diligence and frugality, have laid a foundation for the initial achievements of this clan, their offspring should remember forever never to be indolent, nor ever forget the hardships their forefathers overcame."