一九一一年夏天，武昌市裡，沒有任何人接到上升的命令。然而，到八月一日早上，武昌起義的消息已經傳遍全國，各地都有武昌起義的傳單在散佈。
《神州大地》系列 總第 13 集：「A Massacre on Victory Day: Can a Revolution Exempt Itself (Shorts)」是本集影片的完整圖文轉錄，可逐字閱讀，也可前往影片頁觀看對應畫面。
一九一一年夏天，在武昌這座城市，沒有任何人
接到起義的命令。
然而到了十月，這個省會城市卻
已經點燃起來了。 沒有統帥，沒有戰略計畫，甚至沒有聯合作戰的信號
什麼能夠動搖了統治中國超過兩百六十年之久的王朝的根基
不是一個謹謹計畫的起義，而是一個鐵路，還有一個意外事故
在這一集中，我們還不會說出最後誰贏得了勝利
我們只會告訴你這fuse是如何點燃的。因為一旦你理解了這fuse的意義
你就會知道為什麼那一連串的動盪發生得如此迅速，為什麼它們的代價如此昂貴。
一個王朝的覆滅從來不是一夜之間的
而是從日常生活中的無數普通人一根一根的釘子開始鬆動
在武昌的茶館中,接下來的章節中，我們從
一條路開始。
.
故事開始時是一條鐵路。
清末政府想要興建兩條幹線鐵路：川漢線，從成都到漢口，和粵漢線，從廣州到武昌。政府沒有自己的錢，所以讓沿途的人
買股票。
在四川，則稱為土地租股
，根據每畝的面積分配；湖南、湖北和廣東各自有不同的方式。
四川漢口鐵路的熱門訂單，根據晚清的財政記錄，共計約有
一千四百萬兩銀元——透過無數農戶的節省每一枚硬幣。
1911年五月，郵政總長沈萬春宣布將兩條鐵路國有化，只有民間投資的少部分會被回饋，剩下的三百萬兩虧損則不會被承認。 與此同時，該部門向英法德美四國銀行合營公司借了六百萬英鎊，以償還鐵路。
他們一邊拿著民眾辛苦挣來的錢；一邊向外國借錢。任何一位識字的村民都能算出這個數學。 更令人恼怒的是：
鐵路權益被收回後，
修建鐵路的工作就交給外國人了。
從那天起，鐵路權益被徵收之後，
深刻的想法在人民中悄然擴散：這個法院是否仍然為中國人服務呢？
除了四川、湖南、湖北和廣東之外，
還有許多地區參與了這場運動，
只是程度不同；在廣九線上，
廣東的商人和紳士也同樣激烈地反應。
盛宣懷是這一方案的設計者。 他認為官僚管理加上外國貸款可以讓鐵路快速興建，但他卻沒有料到，
被拿走的不僅僅是鐵路權益，還是數以百萬計人民對法院的最後一絲信任。
這不是一個人的怒氣，
而是一個社會對於政權的信任崩潰。
至於土地租稅的分配，按照每畝的比例來算，實際上收到的
卻是最低收入的農戶的糧食收入。四川漢口的土地分配冊中，
絕大多數是小地主，他們根本
無法生產出更多於幾兩的收入； 他們從未在他們的生命中
見過火車，卻每年繳費入此
線上。當沈兆海主持此計畫時
他計算的是國家財政：統一調度的官僚管理
一次性向外借貸
便能加速建線。
他沒有料到的還有另一項帳目
——法庭竟然伸手進入自己人民的口袋裡
然後轉而向外借貸;當那個消息傳到村莊
時，反而比任何革命小冊子都有
更大的效果。 1911年5月下達的詔令一出
川、湘、鄂、粵幾乎同時爆發。 各省會議、商會及學校接連召開會議；
甚至平常稳重的紳商也無法坐
得住，原因是被抄的不是某個遙遠的
國家事務，而是他們自己的櫃櫃裡的
匯票。
那時中國人仍按照舊規矩穿著:
男人穿長袍和馬褂，背後垂著辮子；官員穿著官階徽章和王冠，胸前的刺繡正方形圖案描繪著鳥類或動物，從而一眼就能看出官階；村民穿短褲和草鞋，頭上裹著一塊布料；
穿著外套和裙子，
雙腳被捆住小，
需要扶助才能走得遠。
流通中的錢幣也是一片混亂：大量的銀元，
根據其純度進行等級分別，
並用不同尺的秤重量測量，經常折扣；
日常交易的銅錢，
銅錢串連起來，
一根繩子上串著一千枚銅錢；
而在條約港口，銀元逐漸流行起來。銀元、銅元和銀元並行流通，
這本身就是那個時代的典型代表。
當朝廷伸手到民間的口袋裡，
然後又去向外邦借貸，
那場雪崩的開始就在這裡了，但真正點燃武昌的火花還在未來。
最激烈的反應來自四川省。
1911年的夏天，成都成立了
鐵路保護會；像羅倫、蒲典鈞這樣的紳士挺身而出
,百萬人簽名，跪在官府門前請願。
他們最初的要求很簡單：
把我們自己攤上的股份金錢退回來。 該社會還出版了一份報紙，
對村民逐行宣讀法庭的宣言，
越讀越火大；
訴狀所帶來的是一場慘案。
九月七日，四川巡撫趙爾豐，借來衙門與人商議之名，誘捕普殿駿、羅倫、鄧小可、顏開、張蘭等人。
當這個消息傳開後，成都的每一個家庭都有了男子出來，十幾萬人衝向衙門，要求釋放囚犯。在他們的手中拿著光緒皇帝的牌子；在他們舉起的手中插著一根香，象徵著當時的時代：這些是來投訴的平民百姓，而不是起義的叛亂份子。 人群挤向大門，
趙爾豐下令軍隊開火，騎馬衝向人群 — 這是一場對無防禦的平民的屠殺，平民們手裡拿著表格前來陳情。根據西昌的新民報記載，四川和湖北有32人在現場死亡，傷亡無法計數。
死者中有一個十三歲的孩子
他死在還抓著一張平板電腦
大屠殺之後，趙爾巽命令不許收殮屍體三天
是夏天，雨下不停
這就是成都血案 —— 平民請願者的大屠殺案
當時的人們給趙爾豐
取了個綽號：趙刀子。
他下了命令開火；
他的士兵拉動扳機；三天不准收拾屍體的禁令
也是他的命令。把這件事歸咎於誰，歷史記載清楚。
在開火之前，這些人是持著木板和香的
請願者。 after the firing,
no one in Sichuan went to petition
again. Men like Pu Dianjun and Luo
Lun who stepped forward were gentry the
court itself had tolerated; that even they
were arrested showed that discontent had already
outgrown the bounds of petition.
After the Blood Case, volunteer armies rose
in every county; Qin Zaigeng and Hou
Baozhai led men to besiege Chengdu,
and within seven or eight days a
hundred thousand or two gathered beneath the
walls. Long Mingjian, Zhu Guochen and Cao
Du wrote on wooden slips, Zhao Erfeng
first arrested Pu and Luo, then pacifies
Sichuan — comrades everywhere rise quickly to save
yourselves, coated them in tung oil,
wrapped them in oiled paper and cast
them into the Jin River — these were
the water telegraphs, by which the lower
counties learned the provincial capital had erupted.
On the twenty-fifth day of the ninth
month, Tongmenghui members Wu Yuzhang and Wang
Tianjie declared Rong County independent — the first
county regime established by the Tongmenghui.
The Qing court urgently transferred the Hubei New Army
into Sichuan. This move would later be
raised again and again: the best fighters
in Wuchang had been drawn away,
and those left in the city were
mostly recruits who had never seen battle.
The best fighters of Hubei were transferred
away. What remained in Wuchang were recruits
who had never seen battle, yet had
long since made contact in secret
the spark for the next episode is
buried in this very step.
.
What was drawn away was the longest-trained,
best-equipped contingent of the Hubei New Army;
yet among those who stayed, many had
secretly joined revolutionary groups.
This brings us to Zhang Zhidong.
His New Policies in Hubei — training a
new army, founding schools, opening factories
inadvertently planted another seed in Wuchang.
The new army he trained had an
abnormally high literacy rate; many soldiers were
farm boys who could read, some even
xiucai degree-holders. These men could read newspapers
and take in new books; their disappointment
with the court came earlier and ran
deeper than others''. The schools and new
army Zhang Zhidong founded in Hubei were
meant to give the court a usable
force, yet they placed literate men and
rifles under the same roof — a consequence
he never foresaw. At the time Wuchang
had two main revolutionary organizations: the Literary
Society, its core mostly junior officers and
soldiers of the new army; and the
Gongjin Association, with broader outside contacts.
In their daily rounds they made contact
through barracks, teahouses and schools.
Walk into Wuchang today and you can
still touch those traces: the Chu Wang
Tai arsenal, the city''s central storehouse of
guns and ammunition; the old Engineering Battalion
site, by Ziyang Lake.
Whoever held Chu Wang Tai held the
whole city''s bargaining chip — a point clearer
to people then than to anyone since.
The Hubei New Army was organized into
divisions and brigades, some fifteen thousand men,
and in several battalions the Literary Society''s
members made up a considerable share.
Zhang Zhidong''s New Policies in Hubei also
included the Hanyang Iron Works, the Hanyang
Arsenal, and a cluster of academies such
as the Lianghu Academy and the Ziqiang
School. The factories made guns, the schools
made men — and neither ended up serving
the purpose the court intended.
The troops stationed in Wuchang were scattered,
while the ammunition was concentrated at Chu
Wang Tai; between the two lay a
distance of a whole night — this geographic
mismatch would later decide the course of
that night. The new army''s dress was
utterly unlike the old Green Standard soldier''s:
queues cut off, or coiled up inside
the cap; on top, a Western-style standing-collar
uniform with rank badges on shoulder and
collar; on the feet, leather shoes;
at the waist, a leather belt;
and slung on the shoulder, mostly the
Hanyang Make rifle from the Hanyang Arsenal.
Life in the barracks had its own
rules: drill at dawn, roll call at
night, pay at month''s end, the silver
arriving on time. In those years a
farm boy who got full meals and
monthly pay already counted as a man
of standing. Off duty their favorite haunt
was the teahouse — a pot of tea
for a few coppers, and news spread
across the table. Chu Wang Tai was
the city''s central arsenal, yet the troops
were scattered and the ammunition lay a
whole night away — that distance would later
decide the course of that night.
.
The Literary Society and the Gongjin Association
were not really one family; their minds
even ran differently. Jiang Yiwen of the
Literary Society was silent and pragmatic,
with deep roots among the soldiers,
his words heeded; Sun Wu of the
Gongjin Association was hot-tempered and full of
schemes, with wide outside connections.
Liu Gong put up the money,
Sun Wu worked the outside, Jiang Yiwen
managed the barracks — three men, three sets
of ideas. Men like Ju Zheng and
Liu Gong, some handling documents, some supplies,
all nominally given posts; yet when the
moment of truth came, who would heed
whom, no one below felt sure.
Had the Sichuan upheaval not forced the
situation to a crisis, this hand might
never have clasped. They agreed to make
Jiang Yiwen commander-in-chief and Sun Wu military
chief, yet those below understood clearly that
who would heed whom was still unsettled.
This looseness later became a fatal flaw:
the moment a command went astray in
transmission, the whole game fell into disorder.
Yet it was precisely this looseness that
made it unlike a conspiracy, more like
the stacked wagers of countless ordinary men.
Two organizations, three sets of minds
a hand that could never have clasped
was forcibly pressed together by an upheaval
far away.
.
Speak of revolution and many think first
of Sun Yat-sen. But before October 1911,
Sun Yat-sen was not in Wuchang,
nor even in the country; he was
abroad, traveling to raise funds.
On the fund-raising there is a matter
later much disputed. Several participants recorded that
before several uprisings Sun promised comrades at
home that arms, ammunition and pay would
be procured from overseas, yet many promises
were never fulfilled, and the front often
faced overwhelming odds, losing men for nothing.
Zhang Taiyan, between 1907 and 1909, publicly criticized the Tongmenghui''s
opaque fund-raising; such accounts appear in his
collected works and contemporary letters.
The later break between Sun and Zhang
was sparked, among other things, by how
the money was raised and spent.
From the 1895 Guangzhou uprising to the
1911 Huanghuagang, Sun launched more than ten
uprisings over a dozen years, most failing
before a shot was fired.
The front repeatedly came up empty;
a recurring story: the guns, ammunition and
pay promised before the rising arrived late,
and when the men showed up and
the plot leaked, they found themselves empty-handed.
What Zhang Taiyan cursed was precisely this
disconnect between fundraising and dispatch.
The above accounts come partly from participants''
memoirs and opponents'' records; the original sources
await further verification. We present them as
they are, without judgment.
One thing is clear: for those far
overseas, every penny raised bore on the
life and death of the front at
home. And the one who truly charged
the front line, who poured in his
life, was another man.
The man placed at the very front
was not present; the one truly charging
the front was another name — yet this
man, too, was still on his way.
.
Huang Xing was among the few revolutionaries
who truly stood on the front line.
In his early years he founded the
Huaxing Society in Hunan, later becoming the
military mainstay of the Tongmenghui.
In 1904 he plotted an uprising in Changsha;
when it leaked he fled, and from
then on staked everything on the front.
Rather than sit and theorize, he chose
again and again to stand before the
guns. On 27 April 1911, at the Huanghuagang battle
in Guangzhou, he led men against the
governor''s yamen; his finger was shot off,
yet he kept directing the retreat.
That battle is commonly called the Seventy-Two
Martyrs, though eighty-six are verifiably counted,
many young scholars who went and did
not return. The following year, at the
Yangxia campaign, Huang Xing held the front
at Hanyang and Hankou for over forty
days. In armed uprising, Huang Xing''s practical
role was more direct and more forward
than Sun Yat-sen''s, who raised funds far
overseas. Yet in October 1911, Huang Xing was
not in Wuchang either; he was still
on his way. This fire in Wuchang
was lit by those at the bottom,
at a time when neither of the
two great men was present.
Neither of the two great men was
in Wuchang. Then who lit this fire?
The answer is those whose names never
made it into the textbooks.
.
On 9 October 1911, at Baoshan Lane on the edge
of the Russian concession in Wuhan,
a Gongjin Association hideout ran into trouble.
Sun Wu and Deng Yulin and others
were there rushing the manufacture of explosives
and flags, preparing to rise.
While mixing explosives, Sun Wu set off
an accidental detonation, wounding himself on the
spot and blowing the whole conspiracy into
the open. Others in the hideout,
Deng Yulin among them, scattered to hide
once it happened, but the flags and
seals on site were too late to
clear. Later the arrested Liu Tong,
unable to withstand interrogation, betrayed the hideout
and a number of comrades, making the
search suddenly precise. The Russian concession police
came at the sound, and seized the
uprising''s flags and seals, and a name
roster. That roster listed who in Wuchang
had taken part. The police handed the
things to the Huguang governor-general, Rui Cheng.
In an instant, an uprising still hidden
in the shadows became an open hand.
According to records, it was the arrested
Liu Tong who, unable to withstand interrogation,
betrayed the hideout and comrades, making the
search suddenly precise. One explosion blew the
hidden conspiracy into the open; and that
roster would next be delivered into the
governor''s hands.
.
Rui Cheng got the roster, and that
night the whole city was placed under
martial law; arrests by name began.
Rui Cheng was a man who,
when trouble came, thought first of saving
himself; normally leaning on the Beiyang clique,
at the critical moment he could not
make up his mind.
He ordered the Wuchang gates closed and
a house-to-house search for those on the
roster; suddenly the whole city lived in
terror. For those on the roster,
only two choices remained: wait to be
arrested, or rise tonight.
This is the cruelest logic of an
uprising: when a secret can no longer
be hidden, not to rise is to
die. A group still hesitating was pushed
by a single roster to the edge
of the cliff. The roster in Rui
Cheng''s hands had been compiled by the
revolutionaries themselves — names, native places, units,
all complete — in effect handing the governor,
in one move, everyone in the city
who had taken part.
That night the Wuchang gates were shut
tight; those inside could not get out,
news from outside could not get in.
It is recorded that several battalions issued
cartridges that very night, yet no one
knew whom to fire on.
In official circles, Rui Cheng''s first thought
was self-preservation: he pushed the arrest duty
onto subordinates and stayed in the yamen
awaiting Beijing''s reply. But however fast the
telegram, it could not outrun the smell
of gunpowder already spreading through the city.
Once the roster reached the governor''s hands
and the Wuchang gates were shut,
for those on the list only two
choices remained: wait for death, or rise
tonight.
.
Late on the night of 9 October,
Jiang Yiwen issued the uprising order,
agreeing that a gunshot would be the
signal and all battalions would act together.
But the order, half delivered, was interrupted
by a search; most units never received
it at all. Yang Hongsheng''s transport of
explosives was also exposed; Liu Fuxing,
in a panic at the hideout,
threw a bomb to cover his comrades,
yet exposed still more.
The agreed time passed; the gun did
not fire, yet the men were already
alarmed. Jiang Yiwen himself escaped; what he
left behind was a group of junior
officers and soldiers who knew not whether
to advance or retreat.
The plan was in disarray; the uprising
seemed about to die unborn.
Yet the roster was already in the
governor''s hands, and time was no longer
on their side. The uprising order was
cut off mid-delivery, most units never received
it — the plan seemed about to die
unborn, yet time was no longer on
their side.
.
Those on the roster could no longer
hide. Peng Chufan, a clerk in the
military police, was captured without losing his
composure; according to accounts he denounced his
accusers even before execution — a stubborn,
hardened man. Liu Fuxing, a core member
of the Gongjin Association from Changde in
Hunan, of the fiercest temper, after arrest
spoke openly and never concealed his convictions.
Yang Hongsheng, a Hubei man responsible for
transporting explosives and ammunition, was caught when
the plot failed and under interrogation would
not implicate others. The three were taken
to the Huguang governor''s yamen, interrogated through
the night, and before dawn dragged outside
the yamen gate and beheaded.
From arrest to martyrdom was but a
few hours. The order was given by
the Huguang governor-general, Rui Cheng.
In the small hours of 10 October 1911,
the three were killed — these are the
later-called Three Martyrs, Peng, Liu and Yang.
They were no great men; only ordinary
people whose names had been written into
that roster, yet at that moment they
left their lives in Wuchang.
Peng Chufan was in his twenties when
he died, with an aged mother at
home; Liu Fuxing had been married only
recently; Yang Hongsheng left behind a child
just learning to walk.
These details appear in later compilations of
the martyrs'' biographies; we record them as
they are, without comment.
That night the governor''s yamen followed old
routines: torches on the hall, bailiffs standing
to either side, the interrogation by the
stale formulas of the penal code
first the accomplices, then the instigator.
The townspeople only learned at dawn that
men had been killed outside the yamen;
the bold came to look and saw
three bodies no one dared claim.
A Wuchang morning should have begun with
the stevedores'' calls at the docks,
the opening of the teahouses.
That day those sounds were still there,
only the people of the city already
knew something had changed.
Three ordinary men died, yet those still
alive on the roster all understood one
truth: wait any longer and the next
would be oneself. That night, it was
truly coming.
.
The blood of three men thoroughly doused
the hesitation. Those still alive on the
roster all understood one truth: wait any
longer and the next would be oneself.
On the night of 10 October, the mood
in Wuchang was like a string pulled
to its limit. In whose hands this
string would snap, we leave for the
next episode. Come to Wuchang today and
you can still touch the traces of
that night on Peng-Liu-Yang Road, at the
Red Building, at Chu Wang Tai.
The Red Building is the former site
of the Wuchang Uprising military government;
the old Engineering Battalion site still stands
by Ziyang Lake. One city, one railway,
three names — they pushed an era to
its turning point. And beyond the turning
point lay longer turmoil, and countless ordinary
people who paid the price for this
revolution. We tell of this fuse not
to glorify any side, but to make
clear: when a regime repeatedly disappoints its
own people, what comes loose is not
only trust but the very base of
the whole order. The price that followed
was, for the most part, silently borne
by the most ordinary people of that
time.
.
▶ 觀看本集影片（含畫面與地圖）：A Massacre on Victory Day: Can a Revolution Exempt Itself (Shorts)