RASHKB Journal 皇家亞洲學會香港分會學刊 | RAS-1984
https://digitalrepository.lib.hku.hk/catalog/5h73wh572
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CHEUNG AH-LUM, A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

CHOI CHI-CHEUNG

On February 2, 1857, Cheung Ah-lum, proprietor of the Esing Bakery, was charged with administering poison in bread with intent to murder on January 15 that year. The charge, defended by Dr. Bridge, who was Acting Colonial Secretary, was found unproven. However, Ah-lum was "re-arrested as a suspicious character and detained in gaol until July 31, 1857". He was released "on condition of his not resorting to the Colony for five years".

This Cheung Ah-lum was a member of the Cheung lineage of Heung Shan County (Hsiang Shan) (= now Chungshan). The Clan Record of this lineage was published in 1934, and contains a lengthy biography written by an old colleague, Chen Chao-ch'ang, in 1904, four years after Ah-lum's death. Since this biography gives a very different view of Ah-lum to that more frequently found, it is felt that a translation of this biography might be of interest, and it is, therefore, given below.

“An Account of Ancestor Wu-sheng of the Chang (Cheung) Clan, granted the Honour of a High Official Title”

"His death name was Pei-lin, his style was Han-hung, and his assumed name was Wu-sheng. He was a native of Ya-kang of Heung Shan. His great-grandfather was Chiao-chin, his grandfather was Huan-pi, and his father was Wei-kang. He had two younger brothers, the first was Yu-hung, and the second was Tsan-hung. He was the eldest of the three sons of his father. From his youth, he was eager to excel. He could read the books his father gave him, and he had an excellent memory. However, because of poverty, he had to give up studying and followed Yung-yin, a man of the same surname whom he called uncle, to do business in Macao at the age of 13. From there, he learnt the ways of doing business with the foreigners. Knowing that Hong Kong was a newly opened port and that there were chances to develop business there, he decided to go to work in Hong Kong when he was 18. He became chief comprador of
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RASHKB Journal 皇家亞洲學會香港分會學刊 | RAS-1989
https://digitalrepository.lib.hku.hk/catalog/8336pm92h
329

Loi Tung, among other places, including some to Dongguan and Xiangshan counties. The cousins of Hung-Yi moved away to nearby Ha Tsuen and Xiangshan county, among other places. Hung-Yi's brother Hung-Ji moved to Ha Tsuen. Thereafter, all the remaining Dangs of Kam Tin were descendants of Hung-Yi.

Casually asking the Dang elders about the relationship between lineage segmentation and settlement, one is given both concrete examples that suggest a correspondence as well as general observations that there is no correspondence. For example, one would be told that the descendants of the third branch (Yeui), which are very few in number, all live in Wing Lung Wai, and that all the others of that village were descendants of the first fong. Unless one asks about a particular segment, the answers would be in terms of the four branches of the lineage, and the conclusion will be that no single segment lives in a village of its own except in the case of Tai Hong Wai where all the villagers are descendants of Man-Wai and his brothers.

Going down the level of segmentation, to the lineage divisions focussed upon ancestors of the 17th to 19th centuries, there is correspondence in the sense that members of these segments all live in the same village. As already mentioned, all the members of the third branch live in Wing Lung Wai. Similarly, all the Ji-Ga Tong people live in Shui Tau, all the descendants of Wan-Yu live in Wing Lung Wai, and all the descendants of Gwong Yu Tong and Lei Ging Tong live in Tai Hong Wai. Another example is the descendants of Wan-Gaan, who, according to one account, had three sons: Fau-Ng, Jan-Ting and Gai-Jau. Gai-Jau's segment live in Kat Hing Wai. Fau-Ng's descendants are divided into three sub-segments. One of the three lived in Ko Po, another in Kat Hing Wai, and the other in Kam Hing Wai.

Some segments of the lineage settled elsewhere. The descendants of Hung-Yi's second son Jan had moved to Ying Lung Wai near the Yuen Long Old Market at a very early date. I was told by its head of branch that many more lived in Zhongshan county. Some of the descendants of San-Fung, a son of Wan-Guk, also had settled elsewhere. I was told that most of them live in Kat Hing Wai, but some had moved to Tong Fong near Ping Shan. The ritual handbook for Ching-Lok's ancestral hall had a special provision for the descendants of San-Fung, which said that they had moved to Naam Tau, in a street outside the city wall.
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RASHKB Journal 皇家亞洲學會香港分會學刊 | RAS-1989
https://digitalrepository.lib.hku.hk/catalog/8336pm92h
409

more evidence and further substantiation are needed for Faure to argue otherwise.

Also related to cash-cropping is the question of subsistence which Faure addresses. It is well known that Guangdong was a rice-deficit province throughout the period under study, very much dependent on foreign and extra-provincial supplies even in normal years as the records of the Imperial Maritime Customs clearly show. The conventional view that population pressure and the displacement of food crops by industrial cash-crops necessitated grain imports is, however, regarded by Faure as a 'fallacy', (p. 56). He contends, 'Grain was imported, not because food was short, but because income from export crops had raised the standard of living... an income with which to purchase a preferred foodstuff....' (pp. 56, 58). It follows that the increase in grain consumption in Guangdong was, in all likelihood, not a sign of impoverishment, but of rising prosperity', (p. 58). This contention is, I think, questionable. One wonders why Faure, in tabulating ‘paddy yield estimates' and 'food sufficiency' in Guangdong (Tables A.3 and 3.4), chooses to rely on Guoli Zhongshan daxue nongke xueyuan's surveys and does not make good use of the more comprehensive county paddy acreage and production statistics collected in Chen Qihui's Guangdong tudi liyong yu liangshi zhanxiao as well as the county paddy consumption statistics contained in Guangdong jingji nianjian. Since these latter sources serve to shed light on the patterns of paddy production and consumption in practically all the counties of Guangdong, they ought to have been taken account of in order to achieve a better understanding of the reasons behind the continuous need to import rice. Faure does point out that 'the [county] average figures have been subject to manipulation'. (p. 217). But why are Zhongshan daxue's data, whose coverage is more restricted, considered to be more reliable? Faure does not explain. Indeed, the county statistics show that demand generally exceeded supply, and that rice shortage was fundamentally attributed to an adverse man-land ratio. They do not support Faure's contention that 'the areas that suffered from population pressure or land shortage were not the ones that could have afforded to import grain, while the ones that did were not as short of grain', (p. 56). Dependence on outside supply was accordingly a matter of sheer necessity and not simply "out of choice' (p. 56), as Faure claims.

Space does not allow me to comment in detail other aspects covered by Faure. I shall be brief. On certain issues, Faure's work certainly
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RASHKB Journal 皇家亞洲學會香港分會學刊 | RAS-1998
https://digitalrepository.lib.hku.hk/catalog/1g05n0794
324

they danced they conspicuously imbibed large quantities of beer and Chinese spirit wines and were showered with water. Although some of the drink was spat out, the dancers' actions became increasingly drunken, with some entering a short-lived trance-like state. After about thirty minutes the dancing concluded with the eating of lettuce, the presentation of _lassie_ and the lighting of a string of firecrackers. The group then set off by van for other markets and fish trading establishments, with the final dance of the morning outside the "Red Market" due to be the most drunken of all.

For much of our knowledge of the Dance Festival, in particular the history and legend, we are indebted to Mrs. Ana Brito, an anthropologist from the Macau Maritime Museum, who as part of her studies on the Festival had interviewed a number of the dancers the year before. Copies of her notes in English, generously supplied to us by Mrs. Brito, show that the Festival was brought to Macau some decades ago from Sek Kei District in nearby Zhongshan County. According to a version of the legend that gave rise to the Drunken Dragon Dance, a certain village had been plagued by a terrible epidemic. In despair the villagers held a procession in Buddha's honour. As the procession was winding its way through the village a dragon in the guise of an enormous serpent arose out of the river. The serpent was killed, hacked into pieces and thrown back into the river, which turned blood red. The villagers drank the water and were miraculously cured.(1)&(2)

Leaving the Dragon to make its way through the Inner Harbour area we left for Coloane Village, where festivities were centred on the Tam Gong Temple on the waterfront. This was heavily decorated and had all the trappings and atmosphere of a well-attended Chinese festival. There were many worshippers, as well as beggars, and clouds of smoke from joss sticks and fireworks. We played our part with Dr Patrick Hase lighting the RAS HK string of firecrackers. Nearby a large matshed had been erected where stars from the Cantonese opera world were soon due to perform.

Towards noon the Tam Gong Festival procession gathered in the Rua da Cordoaria, off the village square, and then made its way through the village to the Temple. This procession was a less spectacular affair than the Tam Gong processions held in Ah Kung Ngam Village, Shaukiwan, Hong Kong, but was equally attractive within its own
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