_Chinese Mettle_

[Illustration: A Temple of Healing.]




                              CHINESE METTLE

           _Written and Illustrated by E. G. KEMP, F.R.S.G.S._

      _Author of “The Face of China,” “The Face of Manchuria, Korea
        and Russian Turkestan,” “Wanderings in Chinese Turkestan,”
               “Reminiscences of a Sister” illustrated_....

    “Travaile, in the younger Sort is a Part of Education; in the
    Elder, a Part of Experience.... When a Travailer returneth
    home, let him not leave the countries, where he hath travailed,
    altogether behind him.... Let it appeare that he doth not
    change his country manners for those of Forraigne Parts; But
    onely pricke in some Flowers of that he hath Learned abroad,
    into the Customs of his own Country.”—BACON’S _Essays_.

                       _Hodder and Stoughton Ltd._
                      _Toronto_ _London_ _New York_
                  _St Paul’s House Warwick Square E.C.4_

                            _Printed in 1921_




DEDICATED TO MY CHINESE FRIENDS




_Prologue_


Books of a descriptive nature, especially on a foreign country, are most
difficult to write. Under ordinary circumstances, writers of such books,
due to the differences of historical setting and social background,
may find it hard to free themselves from prejudice. When the visit is
confined to a section of the country, their views are liable to be
provincial. On the other hand, hasty travelling, however large an area
they may cover, makes their impressions superficial.

It is well said that modern travellers see nothing but the interior of
trains and hotels. This is gradually becoming true along the eastern
coast of China. To-day one who confines his visit to Shanghai or Tientsin
can not be said to have seen China, for it is not there that one sees the
real Chinese life. Civilization means more than mechanical improvements.
Herein lies the value of Miss Kemp’s book. She has wisely neglected the
“show window” by putting seaports at the end. By acquainting the public
with the wealth and beauty of the interior—places seldom traversed by
sojourners,—she reveals to the readers the vitality and potential energy,
both natural and cultural, of a great nation. Throughout the book the
authoress combines the sincerity of description with the picturesqueness
of details.

Equally instructive is the authoress’ description of Chinese society and
some of the prominent Chinese men and women. Great changes are going on
in China. Nothing could afford more interest and knowledge to the friends
of China than to witness the shifting scenes of the young Republic. The
general tendency is undoubtedly towards stability and progress, evolving
order out of derangement resulting from so immense a change as absolute
monarchy to a modern democracy. The authoress has well illustrated by
facts the advance which China has made in education, industry, commerce,
etc.

It is a common conviction nowadays that “the future of the world depends
largely on what happens in China during the next few decades.” To know
China, and to know her intimately, is the first step towards a better
international understanding and the assurance of future peace in the Far
East. The present volume serves as an admirable guide.

Since the days of Marco Polo scores of books describing China, both good
and poor, have been written. As an intimate friend and careful observer
of China, Miss Kemp’s new production together with her previous works are
certainly to be classified among the best ones. From cover to cover, this
volume contains facts and experiences that are entertaining, informative,
and valuable.

                                                        SAO-KE ALFRED SZE.

CHINESE LEGATION, WASHINGTON, D.C.

_October 24, 1921._




_Contents_


              PROLOGUE BY HIS EXCELLENCY SAO KE ALFRED SZE
                    (Chinese Minister at Washington)

  CHAP.                                                               PAGE

  INTRODUCTION                                                          11

  I THE LONG ROAD                                                       17

    Provinces visited: =1 Shansi=, the Progressive—Railway
    Journey from Shanghai to Taiyuanfu. =2 Chihli=—A few words
    about Peking. =3 Shantung=—The Japanese domination—Tsinan, a
    great Educational Centre. =4 Kiangsi=—Shanghai, the centre
    of Great National Movements. =5 Chekiang=—Railway Trip to
    Hangchowfu—Down the Coast by Steamer to Hong Kong and Tongking.
    Through Indo-China by Rail to =6 Yünnan=. From Yünnanfu by
    Chair into =7 Kweichow=, a most backward Province. From Chen
    Yüen by House-boat through =8 Hunan=. By Steamer from Changsha
    into =9 Hupeh=. Down the Yangtze from Hankow through =10
    Nganhwei=, =11 Kiangsi= to Shanghai.

  II THE MODEL GOVERNOR—YEN HSI-SHAN                                    49

    Description of Taiyuanfu, the Capital—The Hall of Public
    Worship—Girls’ Schools—Sports—New Institutions for Cattle
    Breeding, Agriculture, Sericulture—Beggars removed into
    Workhouses—Introduction of the New Script—Unification of the
    Language—The Governor as Author—Famine Relief Works—Four
    Hundred Miles of Road-making—The Model Gaol—Quick Methods of
    Communication—Transport Lorries from England.

  III THE PROVINCE OF YÜNNAN                                            67

    French Influence—Activity of Brigands—A Modern Robin
    Hood—Chinese Home Missions—Women’s Initiative—A Visit to
    the Lake and its Places of Pilgrimage—Mineral Resources of
    Yünnan—Preparations for Road Journey—Wonderful Scenery and
    Flora—Stormy Weather—Opium Culture—The Chinese View of Opium
    Smoking—Sale of Children—Difficulties with Coolies—Weather
    Symbols.

  IV THE PROVINCE OF KWEICHOW                                           87

    A Land of Mountains and Valleys—Extraordinary Rock
    Formations—Surface Coal—The Rose Garden of the World—Post
    Office Facilities—Varieties of Inns—Buffaloes as
    Neighbours—Wild Animals—Industries at Lang-tai-Fung—Roman
    Catholic Missions—Anshunfu—Hospitals Needed—Visits to the
    Haunts of Aborigines—First Miao Church—Tenten—Baptismal
    Service—A Chinese Farm—Village Shrines—Ta-ting, the Mission
    Centre for many Tribes—Bridges of Various Kinds—Kwei Yang,
    the Capital—Buddhist Monks—Valuable Trees—Military Escort
    Needed—Strict Rules not Strictly Observed—Chen Yüen—Start on
    River Journey in small House-boat.

  V SOME ABORIGINAL TRIBES IN KWEICHOW                                 117

    The Miao Family—Their Character, Habits, Dress,
    Embroideries, Hairdressing, Food, Morals—Tribes Numerous:
    Not yet Classified—Language: no Written Language—Great
    Flowery and Small Flowery Miao—The “Wooden Combs” and
    Black Miao—Ancestor Worship—The I-chia—A Different Set
    of Tribes—Written as well as Spoken Language—Notes from
    Dr. Henry’s Observations—On Death Rites, on various
    Superstitions, on Types, on Language—Animistic Religion—Theory
    of Nestorian Influence—Sacrifice—MS. Story of Creation and
    Deluge—Black Miao Version—Festivals—“Courting-talk”—Music and
    Dancing—Witchcraft—Chinese Attitude towards the Tribes.

  VI THE PROVINCE OF HUNAN                                             141

    Boat Travel—Fear of Robbers and Evil Spirits—Yuanchowfu—White
    Wax Industry—Hong Kiang—Medical Work—Shenchowfu—American
    Ideals—Standard Oil Company—Changteh—Journey by Launch
    across Tong Ting Lake to Changsha, Capital of Hunan—Fear of
    Southerners—Red Cross Preparations—Various Missions—Yale
    College—Dr. Keller’s Bible School—An English Consulate.

  VII PRESENT-DAY IRONSIDES—GENERAL FENG YU HSIANG                     159

    Changsha Headquarters—Work of 16th Mixed Brigade in
    Sze-Chuan—Arrival at Changsha—Changes in City Life—Suppression
    of Opium Dens, Gambling Hells, Theatres, etc.—Open-air Evening
    Schools—Industrial Schools—Women’s Education—General Feng’s
    Career—Murder of Dr. Logan—The General’s Patriotism—Industrial
    Training of Army—Strict Discipline—Sunday in the Army—Service
    for the Ladies—Officers’ Service—Recent Events—Withdrawal of
    Northern Army from Changsha—Entry of Southern Troops—No Pay for
    the 16th Mixed Brigade.

  VIII THE NEW CHINESE WOMAN—MISS TSENG, B.SC. (Lond.)                 175

    Chinese ideas of Woman’s Sphere—Confucius on Woman—“Rules for
    Women”—Modern Women—Their Patriotic Spirit—Miss Tseng’s Early
    Life and Training—Adoption of Christianity—English University
    Career—Return to China—School started for Chinese Girls of
    Middle Classes—Sports—Decision of Students not to Strike—Miss
    Tseng’s Influence—Women Journalists and Doctors.

  IX THE YOUTH OF CHINA                                                189

    Veneration of Old Age Modified—Young Chinese in
    responsible posts—Youth criticizes Antiquity: Seizes
    Responsibility—Attitude to Japan—Organized Union defeats
    Government—Co-operation with Shopkeepers—Effect of Spirit on
    Literature—Change of Education by Dowager Empress—Further
    Development under Republic—Contrast between Renaissance
    of China and Japan—Attitude towards Religion—Noxious
    Effects of Propaganda by Missions—Importance of Improved
    Educational Work—Students and Social Service—Famine
    Relief—National University of Peking—Foreign Lectureships—Hong
    Kong University—Projected University at Amoy—St. John’s
    College, Shanghai, and Others—Child Labour—The Boy Scout
    Movement—Student Demands—Youth Accepting Christian Ideals.

  X SOME CHINESE SEAPORTS AND COMMERCE                                 205

    Wênchowfu and Its Waterways—Foochow—Trinity College and
    Union—Many Institutions and Industries—Floods—Amoy—Curious
    Scenery—Y.M.C.A.—Chambers of Commerce—Guilds—Trade
    Relations—Swatow—Great Commercial Centre and Outlet for
    Hinterland—Journey by Railway to Home of Tan Family—Fine
    Ancestral Tablets—American Baptist Community—City of Chao
    Chowfu—Results of Earthquake—New Hospital—Missionary
    Memorial Tablet in Buddhist Temple—Swatow’s Industries—Light
    Railway—Presbyterian Missions—Hong Kong contrasted with
    Macao—Trip to Canton—Wonderful Maze of Narrow Streets—Many
    Industries—City of the Dead—Railways—Commercial
    Outlook—Britain’s Opportunity for Service.

  INDEX                                                                223




_Illustrations_


                                                      PAGE

    A Temple of Healing                      _Frontispiece_

    A Chinese Ritz                                      40

    Yen Hsi Shan, Statesman                             48

    Temple of Heaven and Hell, Workhouse                56

    The Pilgrim Way, Yünnanfu Lake                      72

    In Cloudland                                        72

    The Gate of the Elements                            80

    “Lonely I Stand on the Loneliest Hill-top”          96

    Robbers’ Haunts                                    104

    Light for the Spirits                              112

    Little Flowery Miao Coat                           120

    Ancient I-chia Script                              128

    Great Flowery Miao                                 136

    A Roadside Restaurant                              136

    A Man of Mark                                      160

    A Chinese Leader of Thought                        176

    “Nor soul helps body more
        Than body soul.”                               184

    “Girls,
        Knowledge is now no more a fountain seal’d:
                      Drink deep.”                     184

    Storm-driven Boats                                 208




_Chinese Mettle_




_Introduction_


“Why do you go on journeys to such impossible places?” is a question
which I am continually asked. “Can it possibly be for _pleasure_? How can
any one like,” and here the eyebrows are raised and a shade of disgust,
politely veiled, is visible, “to stop in awful inns and visit cities full
of dirt and smells? What is your _real_ reason for travelling in the
interior of China?”

Strange as it may seem to the comfort-loving Britisher, PLEASURE is the
main lure to China, and a sort of basilisk fascination which is quite
irresistible. Naturally, there are other reasons also—this time it was
to take a young doctor niece to see what the Chinese Empire was like
(we passed through thirteen out of the eighteen provinces) before she
settled down to work in her own hospital. Besides this, in the interests
of geography and a better understanding of the Chinese people by our own
people it seems worth while for an artist to try and show what China
is like at the present time. That is the reason for writing this book.
I frankly own that I hate writing, but am consumed with a desire that
people should know what is now going on in China. My rooted conviction
is that the future of the world depends largely on what happens in China
during the next decade. This is the decisive hour. An American deplored
to a Chinaman the troublous condition of the country, and received a
reply to the following effect: “You must have patience with us, we are
only a nine-year-old Government, and, if my memory does not deceive me,
the United States did not get their constitution for thirteen years.”

The amazing fact is that an empire that has outlived every other
world-empire of antiquity is now completely changing its whole government
and institutions in a time of world-wide disintegration, and is steadily
_moving forward_, despite internecine warfare.

What is more remarkable still is the changing mettle of the race. Its
temperamental characteristics seem to be undergoing as great a change
as the social fabric. China has an inward force that is stronger than
appears: her faults are so glaring that they have obscured this fact
completely. She has been wise enough—unlike all other countries—to
entrust certain branches of her administration to foreigners until she is
capable of taking over control; these branches are the Customs, the Salt
Gabelle and the Post and Telegraph Service; and she has been admirably
served by them, despite some flaws in the administration. The vital need
of to-day is for honest, incorruptible, educated Chinese who will save
their country from their worst enemies—the self-seeking, ambitious,
unscrupulous Chinese, who play off one party against another and, through
fear of foreign foe as well as home treachery, are dragging China to the
verge of the precipice.

To the Chinese themselves, therefore, this book is very specially
addressed, and I search for winged words to summon them to their great
task to act as true patriots and to devote every energy and talent they
possess to building up a new and more glorious empire than the Celestial
Empire of the past.

The conditions of China are changing not merely from day to day, but
from hour to hour, so that my book must seem strangely paradoxical.
The mutable jostles the immutable, and—as in life itself—all sorts of
things get mixed up together. There are no watertight compartments in
nature, and I have taken the liberty of making my book as miscellaneous
as the page of a dictionary. It tells of great personalities, of great
movements, of wild tribes, of nature and of human nature, of politics,
commerce, religion and education, and scores of other things.

The account of the Miao and I-chia tribes opens up a question of
considerable importance in the new China, for there are unaccounted
tribes throughout the whole of Western China, not to mention those in
other parts, such as the Hakka tribe, whose picturesque boats ply on the
Han Kiang (= river) on which Chao Chowfu is situated.

The task has been a heavy one, because the worthy treatment of such
a vast and complex subject is far beyond my powers, but in past days
readers have always treated my books so far more generously than they
deserved, that I take courage and send forth this fledgling of my pen and
brush.

LONDON, 1921.




_Chapter I_

_The Long Road_

    “Travel abroad for one year is more profitable than study at
    home for five years.... Mencius remarks that a man can learn
    foreign things best abroad; but much more benefit can be
    derived from travel by older and experienced men than by the
    young.”—CHANG CHIH TUNG.


_Chapter I_

_The Long Road_

[Illustration: OUR FELLOW TRAVELLERS.]

The journey through thirteen provinces of China brought us into contact
with such an amazing variety of people that it is no easy task to
describe clearly what we saw. I propose to give first of all a brief
account of the journey as a whole, and then deal with the more important
and less-known provinces somewhat in detail. The one salient fact which
emerges from the welter of experiences is that the mettle of the Chinese
people is changing, even to the remotest bound of the empire. What
it will eventually become, the wisest man cannot foretell, but it is
amazingly interesting to watch the changes taking place, and I hope that
the sympathetic interest of my readers will be quickened by the record.

The journey in China itself lasted six months. We reached Shanghai
February 1, via the United States, and at once went by rail to Taiyuanfu,
the capital of Shansi. Visitors to China nowadays can get on fairly
comfortably without any knowledge of the language, if they keep to the
beaten track. The railway runs from Shanghai up to Peking, and only two
changes have to be made during the journey of two days and a night;
the first is at the Pukow ferry, a very easy matter and well arranged.
The train goes down to the Yangtze at Chen Kiang, and the steam tug
takes you across in about ten minutes. At the other side we got into a
more comfortable train where we had secured sleeping places; in all the
long-distance trains there are restaurant cars, where you can get fairly
good meals at reasonable prices.

The next afternoon we reached Tientsin at 4.40, and had to change into
a crowded train to Peking; there is always, I believe, a sort of free
fight to get in at all, and the weakest go to the wall, except in the
case of children, for the Chinese are very fond of children, and never
fail to make room for them. Peking is reached by 8 p.m. After leaving the
train we passed through two great old gateways, linking Past and Present,
to another railway station close at hand, and had only sufficient time
to get our luggage through the customs, and to start at 9.30 on the
Peking-Hankow line for the junction at Shihchiah Chwang. It is not
pleasant to do cross-country travelling in any country at night, and to
reach a place at 4.20 a.m. on a cold February morning where you have to
change stations would be far too difficult a matter for foreigners were
it not for mission friends. They never seem to think anything of such
trifles as spending nights looking after helpless travellers. We soon got
all our goods and chattels out, and handed them over to a Chinese, whom
our friend had engaged to look after them till the train left at 7 a.m.
for Taiyuanfu. Meanwhile he escorted us to a clean inn, and comforted
us with tea and cake and bedding till it was time to start. The bright
cold dawn saw us off once more at 6 o’clock, rather enjoying a walk to
the station; there we got into quite a comfortable train, and our friend
travelled with us back to his own station, the first up the line. All day
we passed through fascinating scenery, often following the course of a
river, where turbine water-wheels in groups were busy grinding corn.

The line was only begun in 1903 by a French company, but the Chinese
have bought it up, and it ought to be increasingly valuable, chiefly
for the transport of coal, in which product Shansi is specially rich.
How well I remember in the old days seeing the long files of donkeys,
each laden with basketfuls of coal, slowly wending their way across the
plains and over the hills; whereas now the railway taps some of the
chief coal-mines in the Pingtau district. The seams are from eleven
to thirty feet in thickness and quite near the surface, and the coal
is of excellent quality. The length of the line is only one hundred
and fifty-five miles, and we did it in nine hours, whereas on my first
journey we were more than nine days travelling up by mule litter and on
horseback!

The railway station at Taiyuanfu is outside the great city wall, and
we saw as we approached it fine new barracks—Governor Yen has had a
macadamized road built to reach one of his barracks, leading through a
gate which has been closed over three hundred years. The account of this
wonderful man and all his varied activities is set down in Chapter II.
The penalty of greatness is seen in the fact that in this famine year
refugees from all the surrounding provinces poured by thousands and
thousands into Shansi. Relief work was rapidly organized, but it meant a
heavy strain on the resources of every one.

After spending ten days with our friends, we went back to Peking,
starting in a heavy downfall of snow, which made the Chinese rejoice; it
is considered a sign of great prosperity before the approaching New Year.
There is so little rain in Shansi and irrigation is so difficult that
a good fall of snow is essential for the crops. We found it extremely
chilly, however, waiting for three hours at the junction in the middle
of the night, without any shelter. The Hankow train was delayed; when it
did arrive it was full of Chinese soldiers and others who occupied all
the carriages, though we had bespoken sleeping-places in advance. We had
to spend the rest of the night in the corridor—a cold and weary time. In
the morning a Chinaman came out of a sleeping-carriage and took pity on
us, giving us his coupé; but it is a great mistake that the railways are
so badly managed, and the military are allowed to monopolize them free
of charge whenever they please. Later on in the year they were for some
weeks entirely closed to civilian traffic.

At Peking I had the pleasure of being welcomed by the Anglo-Chinese
Friendship Society, with which I have been connected ever since it was
started. Its object is to cement the friendship between our peoples
by putting Chinese and other students when they come to England into
touch with congenial English people, and showing them the courtesy
and helpfulness they need on arrival in a strange land. It is greatly
to be wished that more Chinese of both sexes should come and study in
England, and see what is best in our civilization. So many go to America
in comparison with those who come here; yet not a few Chinese students
have told me that they felt it would be better for them had it been the
reverse, because our ideals are nearer to Chinese ones, and our desire
for self-realization is so keen. A denationalized Chinaman is a poor
product, but a Chinaman who has got his own Chinese culture and adds to
it the best we can give of Western knowledge and culture, can, when he
returns home, be a tremendous power in the moulding of the new China.
He has a reverence for all the great past of his own country, and will
strive to preserve its beauty, together with all that is good and great
in its literature, art and customs. Wherever I travelled in China this
fact was brought home to me. So much that is of historic and artistic
value is being ruthlessly swept away, and the tragedy of it is that it
is so unnecessary. For instance, in Canton, the most historic Yamen[1]
was pointed out to me on a wide new thoroughfare, but its façade had
completely lost its dignity and character by the guardian lions having
been swept away. There was more than room enough for them, but their
value had been ignored. I wanted to see the wonderful old water-clock,
the triumph of ancient Chinese science, but was informed it had been
taken away in the grand new improvements, and would be set up in a
garden. “But do they know how to set it up again so that it will go?” I
asked. “Probably not,” said my Chinese guide complacently. So it is with
countless treasures in China to-day.

It will cost more money perhaps to send students to England than to
the United States, but there are plenty of wealthy men, and still more
of women, who are willing to make sacrifices to give their sons and
daughters the best possible education, if they realize that they will
really get it by coming over here. If only those who come have either
friends to look after them, or apply to the Anglo-Chinese Friendship
Society, there will not be the disappointment which some have experienced
in past times. In Shanghai I was told that students returning with
diplomas from England had no difficulty in finding satisfactory posts at
once, and are in greater demand than those from America.

France has now entered the lists, and there are some two thousand
students in France, most of whom are studying textile manufactures. They
have been sent over by the Government, the cost being defrayed by the
French remission of the remainder of the Boxer indemnity, and half the
cost of the journey is paid by France.

In order to accommodate so many students, the French have had to make
special provision, and I met a party of students who originally came to
study in England, but were obliged to go to France because they could
find no room in English colleges. This is a most deplorable state of
affairs.

A French professor, whom I met on the journey out, was welcomed in Peking
by old students who attended his lectures at the Sorbonne, and he told me
afterwards of the extraordinary warmth of their reception and recognition
of indebtedness for his teaching. When he left they told him that they
were sending him a tribute of gratitude; some months later he received
a very costly cloisonné vase, made expressly for him and bearing an
inscription, with the names of the donors incorporated in the design. The
professor, when he showed me the vase and its case, was evidently deeply
impressed by this unique experience in a long teaching career.

Peking is a most fascinating city, and the new and old jostle one another
strangely. Some writers tell you the old has quite vanished, but they
are entirely wrong: even the old camel caravans—than which nothing can
be more picturesque—may be seen wending their leisurely way beneath its
ancient walls, to the clanking music of their bells. The city dates
back to two hundred years B.C., and it has been the real capital of the
Empire since the thirteenth century A.D. It consists of two cities,
called the Outer and the Inner City; they lie side by side—one square
and one rectangular. Each city is surrounded by its own wall: that of
the Inner being thirty-seven feet high, fifty-two feet wide at the
top, and it is thirteen miles in extent. The other city wall is not so
lofty. Sixteen great gateways lead into this marvellous city, where
within another wall is the old Imperial City. The legation hotels, post
offices (there are _six foreign_ post offices), shops and banks, etc.,
and also a native business quarter, are all in the Inner city, which
is becoming very cosmopolitan, and is increasing rapidly. The numerous
Government buildings are all in the Inner city—Council of State, Foreign
Office, Finance, Home, Communications, Navy, War, Judiciary, Education,
Agriculture and Commerce Departments.

Peking is now becoming a great centre of Western learning, and the
Rockefeller Institution aims at becoming the main School of Medicine and
Scientific Research in China. Its beautiful roofs, in the old Chinese
style, have been built regardless of cost: two million gold dollars will
not cover the initial expense of this place, and money has been poured
out like water to secure not only the best equipment, but also the best
brains.

Fine modern roads are being made, and automobiles are (for the wealthy)
taking the place of the old slow-going cart and sedan chair; but economy
will prevent these and the ricksha from going out of fashion.

The beginnings of industrial life are to be seen in the Government
Industrial Factory, where there are five hundred apprentices; the Private
Industrial Factory, the Match Factory, the Electric Company (which
supplies the city with electric light), and the Tobacco Manufacturing
Company—but Peking has never been an industrial centre, nor is it suited
to become one.

Peking was so cold and snowy that we were glad to go south after a couple
of days, and broke our journey at Tsinanfu. What changes have taken
place since first I knew it only twelve years ago! Then it was smarting
under German occupation; now it is under a still heavier yoke, and every
one says “would we were under the Germans rather than the Japanese!”
The latter seem to be far more grasping, and have no lack of funds for
securing the things which they do not dare to seize by force. Commerce is
one of their main objects, and they are pushing it with feverish zeal, so
as to establish themselves securely as traders while they hold undisputed
possession. It is sad to think that the militarist party in Japan has at
the present time such complete control of her destinies, and that the
finest part of the nation, while utterly condemning their policy, is
incapable of influencing it. More than once I heard from reliable sources
that this party considers that nothing less than foreign force can break
the militarism of Japan. Wherever we went, even to the remotest parts of
the empire, there is a growing hatred of Japan, and it almost seems as if
this were the most potent factor in strengthening and unifying China. In
one sense it may be looked on as a blessing in disguise! It certainly is
calling out all the hitherto latent patriotism of young China.

The approach by railway to Tsinan suggests a busy manufacturing town;
tall chimneys, Chamber of Commerce, big post offices, banks, public
buildings, wide well-paved roads, with big houses and gardens, form large
suburbs outside the city wall. It is a strange contrast to the old-world
city, with its narrow picturesque streets and the lovely lake where wild
birds haunt the sedgy islands—

    “Here long ago ...
    When to the lake’s sun-dimpled marge the bright procession wends,
    The languid lilies raise their heads as though to greet their friends.”

                                      —WANG CH’ANG LING—_circa_ A.D. 750.

Oh, there is a charm in China found nowhere else! You pass out of
thronged streets into calm poetic retreats where the turmoil of life is
hushed; for a brief spell life stands still.

But one turns back into the city, with its teeming inhabitants. A very
up-to-date city it is, with its schools, hospitals, museums, arsenal,
barracks, and soldiers’ institute,[2] etc., etc. Its commercial interests
are increasing by leaps and bounds, now that it is linked by the railways
with Peking and Tientsin on the north, with Nanking and Shanghai on the
south, and with Chingtao and the sea on the east. But what interested us
most of all was the Shantung Christian University, with its School of
Medicine, one of the most important schools in China. It is emphatically
a union college, being supported by nine different missions, British,
Canadian and American. The teaching staff is approximately twenty-six,
and the students about one hundred, with some forty-five in the
pre-medical department of the School of Arts and Science. Already more
than one hundred graduates are practising in Mission, Government and
Civil employment.

The training is of a high order, each member of the faculty a specialist
in his own department: the teaching is in Mandarin Chinese, but all the
students learn English, largely on account of having access to English
textbooks. The large well-appointed hospital may not be so imposing in
appearance as some of the American institutions, but it is second to none
in the work done within its walls. The approximate annual cost of the
medical school is Mex. $225,000 (£25,000). It is of paramount importance
that all British educational work in China to-day should be impeccable in
quality, but the problem is where to find the necessary men and money.

Far more than five million dollars have been spent in building and
equipping mission hospitals in China,[3] and it is high time that
native men of means should take up the work, either by supporting such
institutions as the above, or by undertaking similar ones. The Government
of China is only beginning this herculean task, but in many respects it
is better that private initiative should be active in hospital work,
because the human touch is of infinite value where suffering humanity is
concerned.

An interesting extension work has recently become part of the university,
namely the Institute, and has proved a great draw to people of all
classes. It was originally started by the British Baptist Mission at
Tsingchoufu in 1887; it is a sort of glorified museum for the special
purpose of making known Western ideas on all the varied sides of life,
and promoting a spirit of brotherhood. You go into an airy, well-lighted
hall and are confronted with glass cases containing models such as are
not to be found elsewhere, and as interesting as they are novel. For
instance, there is a large wooded surface with a heavy shower of rain (in
the shape of fine glass rods) falling on it, while alongside are barren
rocky slopes, bespeaking the land where no rain falls. Who could possibly
look at this exhibit without asking the meaning, especially when there
is some one at hand eager to talk about afforestation? Incidentally, it
may be mentioned that the Government is beginning to take up this subject
in all parts of China, and sorely needs the intelligent interest and
co-operation of the people in order to ensure success.

A thrilling new exhibit is the work of the Red Cross during the war,
containing two hundred separate models, starting with the firing-line
and ending with the convalescent wards of the hospital. Little model
figures engaged in all sorts of war-work are a source of continual
delight to the spectators, who throng the hall every day of the week.
“What are they doing to that dog?” says an inquisitive woman. No words
can paint her astonishment when she hears that it is a wounded war-dog
being carefully bandaged. Lectures on Red Cross work have been listened
to with deepest interest, while demonstrations in bandaging were given by
nurses attached to the University hospital. An audience of three hundred
girls heard what other girls have been doing in the war. Then, too, Boy
Scouts learn what part they can play in national service. The History of
Hygiene is well illustrated, and the greengrocer and butcher see what
happens when a luscious melon or beefsteak is visited by flies. Much has
already been done by these striking models to awaken a wholesome fear
in the minds of the people. During epidemics most valuable advice has
been promulgated from the Institute both by lectures and literature. All
the admirable models are made in the workshop of the Institute, under
the clever superintendence of Mr. Whitewright, its head and founder.
There are models of hospitals, churches, cemeteries, museums, streets of
England, which act as texts for explanation.

On the walls are diagrams and comparative tables of statistics,
illustrating a great variety of subjects, and specially calculated to
awaken the attention of the Chinese to relative conditions between their
country and others. That it has more than fulfilled its object is obvious
by the effect it has had not only on society in general but also in the
special interest it has aroused in the Chinese educational authorities.
Their representatives have repeatedly come to see the Institute and
to study its methods, and from it educational work of considerable
importance has radiated far and wide.

There is a separate department for students of Government colleges, and
they have their own reading-room, recreation-room and classroom. This
department shows fifteen thousand attendances in the year. An important
part of the work of the Institute is the encouragement of friendly
relations between the staff and all sections of the community. Visits are
arranged for parties of officers, merchants, police, Mohammedans, etc.,
when receptions are held specially interesting to these people, followed
by lectures and cinematograph shows.

This is truly a wide-minded piece of missionary enterprise. The catholic
spirit, which thus shows Christianity animating every part of human life,
is a fine corrective to some of the narrow sectarian missions which still
abound. Millions of people have visited the Institute, and more workers
are needed to carry forward this splendid religious and educational
venture.

I heard interesting details at Tsinanfu about the returned coolies from
the Great War. There was a reading-room for them, and it was amusing
to see the recruiting placards by which they had been attracted to the
ranks. When first the idea of coolie labour was started in Shantung the
British consuls were directed to arrange for recruiting, but they drew
a blank. What did the Chinese coolie know of the value of a consul’s
promises: he had no personal knowledge of him, and the proposition was
an entirely novel one. So the missionary was set to tackle the problem,
and he had to explain the scheme and show how the coolie’s family would
profit by having a regular and sure source of income during his absence.
The tide was turned: as many recruits were forthcoming as were needed,
indeed far more. Germany spread a malicious propaganda, that the Chinese
were placed in the firing-line to protect our troops. Our Government
countered with cinema shows in which the people could recognize their
men working in France. A time of dearth emphasized the value of their
new income. Men returning from France told their experiences, and most
significant of all was the universal expression of willingness to repeat
the service in case of need.

I have said so much elsewhere about the city of Tsinanfu[4] that I shall
pass on to our next stopping-place—Shanghai. We stayed at the Missionary
Home, up the North Szechuen Road, a boarding-house with very moderate
prices, which is the rendezvous for missionaries from all parts of the
empire. It was most useful to us to be in touch with them, and we revised
our itinerary in consequence, and were able to do many interesting things
which we should otherwise not have done. Not only missionaries frequent
it, but others also, for it is very helpful to any travellers going off
the beaten track to be in such a centre of information. For people not
knowing the language all needful help is provided in meeting steamers and
trains, for which the most moderate charge is made.

Shanghai is the strangest medley of incongruities, but extraordinarily
interesting, because it has become the common meeting-ground of all
nationalities and the natural centre for great movements. It is the
most accessible spot for conferences, being linked by its railways
and waterways with all parts of the empire, so that it may almost be
considered geographically as the heart of China; but it would perhaps
be more accurate to describe it as the skin, or surface, whereby all
the interior is related to the outer world. Less than eighty years ago
it was merely an insignificant Chinese town, but in 1842 the Chinese
Government made it an open port; a British concession was granted—to be
followed by French and American ones. Soon the British concession was
internationalized, and in course of time became so popular among the
Chinese that to-day far more than half the Chinese population of Shanghai
is found in it, and of course this far exceeds the foreign population.
Its government is rather remarkable; the municipal council is composed
of nine foreigners of several nationalities, who are responsible for the
self-government of the community. In their hands is the exclusive police
control (how dignified the Sikh police are and how picturesque!), the
drainage, lighting, roadmaking, sanitation, taxation, control of markets,
etc. Each nationality has its own judicial court, and there is the Mixed
Court for the settlement of cases between Chinese and foreigners. This
extra-territoriality has long been a source of soreness with the Chinese,
and has acted as a spur to the reforms now going on in their judicial
system. The French alone have continued to keep to a settlement of their
own, which is run on similar lines.

Shanghai has naturally become the base of all sorts of experiments, and
has a special value to the empire on that account. It is an object-lesson
in self-government of no small value. Round it have sprung up mills of
all sorts, and shipbuilding on foreign lines, and of course its shipping
links it with every part of the globe. In another chapter I shall refer
to its value as an educational centre.

An interesting experiment has been successfully made (by an entirely
Chinese firm) of our western methods in social welfare (so new to us
also) for dealing with employees. The Commercial Press was founded in
1896 to meet the rapidly growing demand for handbooks in Chinese on all
sorts of subjects of western knowledge. It grew so rapidly that its
branches are to be found in all the large cities of the empire, while
its publications reach to the remotest towns. But to me one of its chief
interests is to be found in the relations between its officials and
staff, which consists of over one thousand persons. In the fine central
building the fourth floor has a large dining-room, where three hundred
of the employees have their meals, and there is a roof garden for their
benefit. The workpeople are well paid, they receive bonuses according
to their services, and are entitled to pensions on retirement: when
employees die their necessitous families receive pay. There is a savings
department which pays nine per cent. interest. There are school and
hospital facilities for employees and their families, and they can join
Y.M.C.A. and other institutions at a cheapened rate. Special arrangements
are made for women at the time of childbirth, and a sum of money is given
them at the beginning and end of the time they are absent from work on
that account. Babies being nursed are allowed to be brought in to be
fed by the mother during work hours. The hours of work are limited to
nine per day, and there is a garden in which the workers can spend their
leisure time.

Another institution in Shanghai which greatly interested me was a
Cantonese Baptist Institutional Church, which I attended one Sunday
morning. It was extremely attractive, not only in its setting, but most
of all in its human qualities. I arrived while Sunday school was still
going on, and saw boys and girls of all ages in classrooms, and scattered
about in the big hall. The teachers were, with one or two exceptions,
Chinese, and looked thoroughly competent for their tasks. “They are
the best workers I have ever met,” said Miss Lyne, my guide. The sight
of a stranger was quite a matter of indifference to both teachers and
taught, and had no effect on their concentrated attention. An American
lady took me all over the building, which seemed admirably suited to its
purpose. Upstairs was a large bright room—the chapel—electric lighted,
and with a baptistery which was the gift of one of the members in memory
of his wife. In the kindergarten the sweetest babes had been making
tulips. The hall below is used for a gymnasium, games and other purposes.
Religious plays are very popular, and my guide said that although she
came prepared to disapprove of them, she had been converted by seeing
how they seemed to make the Bible so much more real to the people. A
very interesting detail of the place was the excellent bathrooms and
sanitary arrangements, hot and cold water laid on, the whole supplied
by a thoroughly up-to-date Scotch firm. This section was entirely due
to the wish of the young people, who had raised the funds ($300) for it
themselves. The building was in a nice garden, with tennis courts and
other facilities for games.

The most interesting part of the morning was the service, despite the
fact that I do not understand Chinese. The men sat on one side and
the women on the other, but there was no partition, and men and girls
respectively took up the collection on their own side of the hall. A
Chinaman conducted the service, and the singing was hearty and reverent,
without any starchiness. After the sermon, candidates for baptism were
brought forward, each one by his or her sponsor, for the Church’s
approval before admission to the rite; they had been already examined
and under training for some two years. Some of the candidates were quite
young, others grown up: the pastor’s son and another boy were about
eleven years old. They were asked a variety of practical questions by the
pastor, but when it came to his own son, he said, “Will some one else
ask little brother’s son?” and this was accordingly done. After this
the Church members voted as to whether they should receive baptism. I
asked if the vote was ever adverse, and was told it was not infrequently
the case, although they were not recommended for baptism till they were
considered ready.

There are so many Cantonese in Shanghai that missionaries find it
necessary to have special work amongst them: they are like a different
race, with a different language.

There are all sorts of interesting things to be seen in Shanghai, but
it takes time, and the only other place of special interest we saw was
the old native city, just the same picturesque, dirty, crowded spot that
it was hundreds of years ago, surrounded by its three-and-a-half-mile
wall, of which the gates are still shut at night. The old willow-pattern
tea-house I was glad to see is still intact, also the garden from which
the lovers fled who were turned into doves. It is not safe to venture
into the old city unaccompanied, and the beggars are truly awful.

From Shanghai I visited the neighbouring province of Chekiang, which
is considered one of the most beautiful by many people. The capital,
_Hangchowfu_, can be reached both by water and by rail, and I much regret
that I only went by rail, as an economy of time: it was a mistake, for
by all accounts the waterway is most lovely. The journey takes three or
four hours by rail and eighteen by boat. As one passes through mulberry
groves and wide-stretching rice fields, one sees most picturesque groups
of buildings, standing up on slightly raised ground, like oases in the
flat land, and lofty sails move slowly across the landscape. In the soft
glow of evening light it was perfectly enchanting. We passed near two
walled cities, but the railway lines as a rule do not break through such
walls, and it is in many ways more convenient to have the station outside
the cities. I could not but regret that this rule had been broken in the
case of Hangchow, where the railway station was an ugly, though imposing,
modern building, erected close to the breach in the wall through which
the line enters the city.

On leaving the station by a wide new thoroughfare, you see numbers of
European-looking shops, full of up-to-date European wares, for Hangchow
is a large and wealthy manufacturing city, in the centre of an important
agricultural district. Learning and Industry have flourished here from
the earliest times, and now it has a population estimated at 35,000. I
was thankful to get away from the modern town to a good old-fashioned
Chinese quarter, where I shared the ever-generous hospitality of Dr. and
Mrs. Main. Their hospitals are a sight worth seeing—although in certain
respects they would challenge criticism; that is because they grew into
being nearly forty years ago and were built up under every kind of
difficulty by the untiring zeal of one man, and his hall-mark is seen in
every part of them. The Chinese are an industrious people and put our own
to shame, but even to them this object-lesson of what can be achieved
by one individual is perhaps as valuable as the actual good done to the
thousands who have found healing and comfort in these hospitals. There
are no less than twenty-two departments of work, of which I shall only
enumerate a few of the most important.

Directly after breakfast on the day after my arrival I started on a tour
of inspection, and saw over the men’s and the women’s general hospitals,
where a cheerful activity reigned. There is a family likeness about
mission hospitals, so I shall say nothing further about them; but what
amused and fascinated me was my visit to the maternity hospital, which
is a thoroughly attractive place. Already five little new-comers into
this sad world were lying in a row, all tidy and washed, and one was
lifting up a loud remonstrance at her fate; another was only an hour old.
Sometimes you may see as many as fifteen, and I hope they do not get
mixed up. There were no less than a hundred and seventy-seven in-patients
during the year. These maternity hospitals are an unspeakable boon to the
country, the more so because they are training schools for midwives. How
badly these are needed can only be known by dwellers in the East. The
Chinese make admirable nurses, especially the women, and many hospitals
who in deference to custom have been in the habit of having men to nurse
their own sex, are now giving it up in favour of women, because they are
found more reliable and conscientious. This I was told when I deprecated
the change.

Next we visited the Lock Hospital, and then the Medical School, where
fifty or sixty students are admitted annually. Numbers of well-trained
men have passed through this school, but it is hampered by lack of
funds, and the premises and gardens are quite inadequate for the number.
Girls, too, I saw hard at work in the classrooms. One most interesting
part of the work was the series of workshops, in which disabled
patients are employed on all sorts of trades connected with the needs
of the hospitals. No doubt it is not only a boon to the workers, but
a great economy for the hospital, especially in these dear times. It
is astonishing to see the metal work done there, not to speak of the
carpentering, matting and brushmaking. All wooden cases coming to the
place are rapidly transformed into useful pieces of furniture, and
everything seems to be capable of being transformed into something useful.

In the afternoon in pouring rain we set off in rickshas to visit another
series of hospitals for lepers, incurables, and isolation cases. It was
a long drive to the lonely hill-side overlooking the city, where these
pleasant homes are situated, for they are indeed _homes_, as attractive
and comfortable as they can be made for lifelong sufferers. It needs
something stronger than humanitarianism to tackle such a work, and the
spirit of a Father Damien is needed to make it a success. Well may the
poor patient say:

    “My body, which my dungeon is.”

But they seemed wonderfully content, and eagerly welcomed the doctor’s
visit. The expenses of these homes were only 2,788 dollars for the year.
In cases of epidemics it is a special boon to have an isolation hospital
outside the city, and the Home for Incurables needs no weak words of mine
to commend it. All these buildings are newer than the hospitals in the
city, and built on very hygienic principles.

From the hospitals we drove to the lovely lake-side, where we had tea
in a charming house recently built by Dr. Main for the doctors. The
lake-side was glorious, with great beds of water-lilies just coming into
blossom. What a staff is required for work like the above described!
and what an opportunity for men of noble ambitions! The staff is mainly
Chinese, but Englishmen are greatly needed as well, and are sadly
lacking. The Church Missionary Society is responsible for this important
piece of work.

Close to this house is another new and charming one built for
convalescent Chinese ladies, and it stands in a pretty little garden. It
was empty at the time I was there, but had been used for the Conference
of the China Continuation Committee. It will be interesting to see
whether the ladies make use of it; it is in the nature of an experiment,
being the only one I saw in China. But Chinese ideas are so rapidly
changing and the position of women is so different from what it was even
ten years ago, that they will welcome the possibility of such a home for
convalescence. The rooms devoted to women, even in big houses, are often
miserable, and this experiment may promote a better state of affairs.

On the other side of the West Lake is the latest creation of Dr. Main,
which was opened next day. It is a rest-house for Chinese workers, and
ought to be valuable in connexion with so large a mission work. The funds
have all been raised by Dr. Main.

Next day I got a glimpse of the old world before leaving Hangchow. I was
escorted up a steep hill to visit a group of temples and to get a view
over the wonderful West Lake. Magnificent old trees cast their welcome
shade on the buildings, and a curious serpentine stone pathway which had
a symbolical meaning leads up the hill. On the top is a group of stones
of curious shapes, which are said to represent the twelve requisites of
agriculture, but it required a great deal of imagination to trace the
resemblance. The air was scented with wild roses, and the view from the
top of the ridge was superb—on one side lay the shimmering lake, with its
delicate tracery of raised pathways and bridges leading across certain
parts of it, and a fine old red sandstone pagoda; on the other side the
busy city and the river leading to the sea. It is an ideal spot for
artists, and there is the _West Lake Hotel_ on the margin of the lake,
where it is quite pleasant to stay if you are not too exacting.

Hangchow is the starting-place for that wonder of the world, the Grand
Canal, which stretches nine hundred miles, and part of which was built
nearly five hundred years B.C., with solid stone walls. It is spanned
in places by beautiful bridges, sometimes a single arch and sometimes
several. The bridges of China are very varied and most beautiful; in no
other part of the world have such remarkable blocks of stone been used
in their construction, and it is impossible to understand how some of
them were placed in their present position. The heavy floods in Fukien
prevented my visiting the most celebrated one near Chuan Chow, called
Lo-yung-kio; it is three thousand six hundred feet in length and fifteen
feet wide. Some of the granite monoliths stretching from one abutment
to another actually measure as much as sixty feet in length, so we were
told by an English captain who had measured them. As there are only
twenty abutments, it is obvious they must be very wide apart. In all such
bridges that I have seen, the spaces between the abutments vary in size.
Even small bridges, like one on the West Lake near Hangchow, are often
quite interesting because of their architectural qualities, the artist’s
touch being very marked. The Chinese never seem to grudge labour in the
beautifying of things great or small, important or unimportant, which
gives one great joy in using the common things of daily life. It is as if
the workman worked for sheer creative joy and regardless of recompense.
If a man, for instance, engraves a line drawing in the hinge of a door,
where it will practically be always out of sight, what motive can he have
save the creative faculty?

Hangchow is situated at the mouth of the Tsientang-kiang, a most
important waterway for the trade from Kiang-si, which comes down on
peculiar junks, sixty feet long and ten feet wide.

There is a remarkable tide bore at the river’s mouth; at full tide there
is a column of water six feet high which rushes furiously in from the
sea, and which is a source of great danger to shipping. This is a sight
well worth seeing.

From Shanghai we went down the coast by the steamer _Sinkiang_ to Hong
Kong, only putting into Amoy on the way, and enjoying a few hours ashore
with friends. They urged us to come and stay with them, an invitation
which I gladly accepted later on. The sea was kind to us most of the
way, and we accomplished the journey in four days, reaching Hong Kong
at 8 a.m. Here we found the housing problem as acute as at home, and
were thankful to be taken in at a delightful house for ladies, called
the Helena May Institute. It was the greatest boon to me not only then,
but when I returned in July to join the ship for England. The house is
beautifully situated and strongly to be recommended to ladies travelling
alone.

We were delayed some ten days waiting for a boat to Haiphong, as coasting
steamers seem peculiarly uncertain in their sailings.

The journey to Haiphong took three nights and two days. When we finally
started we found that no Hong Kong money (Hong Kong has a coinage of its
own, being British, and admits no other) would be accepted in Indo-China,
and that we must re-bank there before starting inland. Haiphong is a most
dull and unprogressive little French town: an intelligent young Frenchman
at the custom-house told us that red tape rules everything and makes
progress impossible.

We were obliged to stay there two days, the bank not being open on
Sunday. The train only runs by day up to Yünnanfu, and starts at a
very early hour: the carriages are primitive in the extreme and badly
arranged. There is only _one_ corridor coach for first-, second- and
third-class passengers, the first-class being in the middle and the
passengers for the others passing to and fro through the carriage all
the time. Besides this one coach there were a number of seatless luggage
vans, in which were herded large numbers of fourth-class passengers, with
their belongings. Their legs might frequently be seen dangling out of the
unglazed windows. The line was opened in 1910, and is about 150 miles in
length.

The scenery was fascinating and varied during our three days’ journey
to Yünnanfu. At first it was sub-tropical, passing through forests with
great tree-ferns and bamboos, or ricefields where water-buffaloes toiled.
Lovely rose bushes and brilliant canna were the chief flowers visible,
and tall trees full of crimson blossom. From seven in the morning till
8.30 p.m. we travelled slowly towards the Chinese frontier, and spent the
night at Laokay, in a not too bad little French hotel. There was food
served on the train, but we mostly relied on our own provisions. The
frontier town was quite attractive, at the junction of two rivers; we
were supposed to have our luggage examined, but both French and Chinese
let us off, and I had time to sketch from the dividing bridge while our
less lucky interpreter, Mr. Li,[5] underwent searching examination. It is
most difficult for any Chinese to get passports for going through French
territory, and you can never foresee what difficulties the officials
will put in the way, even when everything is _en règle_. Li was taken
off to the police station and put through an elaborate interrogatory.
We had been rather anxious about our own passports, as Sir John Jordan
was not able to authorize our having them from Peking, on account of
the political division between North and South. He very kindly arranged
that the British Consul at Canton (if he considered it safe for us to
prosecute our journey) should supply us with them, and we experienced a
great sense of relief on finding them awaiting us at Hong Kong. As an
illustration of the strictness of French rule, no one is allowed to take
more than two dollars out of Indo-China in their coinage; at Haiphong we
had obtained Chinese dollars suitable for the province of Yünnan.

One of the most serious questions for China to-day is that of finance,
and I was told by a reliable business man that the unification of the
coinage would have been settled long ago, but for the fierce opposition
of the banking community, who make unheard-of profits by the present
system. It is extremely tiresome and injurious to trade, and adds greatly
to the difficulty of travelling.

As soon as we had crossed the frontier the scenery changed and became
grander. The railway passes through malarious districts, and its
construction was impeded (at one time even entirely suspended) on account
of the number of deaths which took place among the workmen. It is a
narrow-gauge single line, and there are so frequently obstructions and
accidents that the train only runs by daylight; it takes therefore three
days to accomplish the journey; but it is so interesting that one is glad
to go slowly. The stations on the line are few, and the only important
town is Mongtsze, a big trading centre. The province is considered one of
great natural wealth and beauty, and I was glad to be in it once more,
having already traversed it from north-east to west (a distance of over
a thousand miles) on foot or carried in a chair. On the second day we
passed through glorious wooded gorges, gradually rising to a height of
two thousand seven hundred feet. The hill-sides were terraced up to the
very summits in places, and despite the sparse population the land was
well cultivated wherever possible. We reached the town of Amichow soon
after five o’clock, and found a decent little French hotel. Strolling
out to watch the glorious sunset, we came to a barracks, where men were
drilling in orthodox German style and singing a monotonous sort of chant.

Next morning when we came to pay our seven-dollar bill with the Yünnanese
notes we had bought at Haiphong, we had an unusual experience with regard
to the exchange, for we found that it only meant three Yünnanese dollars.
While I attended to this, my niece went ahead to secure the window
seats, for you see very little otherwise. There were other travellers
who had secured them the previous day, and we knew the scenery would be
magnificent. The line is really a remarkable one, running in and out of
the rock, crossing rivers far below, and wholly unlike the tame railway
lines at home. One part was singularly beautiful as we emerged from a
tunnel at a high level; we saw a lovely jade-coloured lake spread below
us, melting away into the far distance. As we approached the capital,
Yünnanfu, we left the mountains behind and passed through well-cultivated
lowlands, already clad in shining green, or reflecting the blue sky in
watery ricefields. We were not sorry, however, to say good-bye to the
railway for many weeks to come. Friends had arranged for us to stay at a
comfortable French hotel, the _Terminus_, outside the city wall and with
a fine view across the fields to distant hills.

We eagerly inquired as to the prospects of being allowed to go eastwards,
and were informed that the robbers were most aggressive and had taken
prisoners three missionaries, besides securing much loot from other
quarters. I confess my spirits sank low that night, despite our having
got a much-longed-for mail, and it was with some misgivings we set off
to the British Consulate next morning. The postal commissioner, a portly
Frenchman, had told us that he didn’t consider it at all dangerous to go
eastward, but it was true that he had ceased to send money orders, owing
to the number of robbers! He could transmit no money for us, but promised
to see what could be done in the matter through merchants.

We found that the British Consul, Mr. Otterwell, remembered me as an old
traveller. I had been his guest at Tengyueh twelve years before, though
he was at the time absent in the district. He was quite encouraging, and
promised at once to have our passports visé-ed and a military escort
obtained for the following week. Our further doings in Yünnan Province
are chronicled in Chapter III. Suffice it to say that from Yünnanfu
we set off in carrying-chairs, and travelled north-eastward into the
province of Kweichow—a wild and beautiful mountainous country, far from
railways and steamboats and all the busy bustle of the West. There we
were to make friends with strange aboriginal tribes in their native
haunts and to see unadulterated China once more.

Kweichow (the Land of Demons) surpassed our most sanguine hopes. It was
far more beautiful and interesting than we had been told, and not nearly
so difficult to travel in as I had been led to expect. We had provided
ourselves with tinned meats, as we were told that we could expect to get
no meat or chickens or vegetables in so poor a province, whereas we found
all these things in abundance, and every mission station to which we came
most hospitable in supplying us with bread and cakes. It is true we only
came to five stations in the next seven weeks, that is in crossing the
whole province. There is no road in any part of it—sixty thousand square
miles, roughly speaking—suitable for wheeled traffic; so no wonder it
must be considered as one of the most backward parts of China, and has
rarely been visited by travellers. To carry a load of rice for a hundred
miles more than doubles its cost.

[Illustration: A Chinese Ritz.

_Page 40_]

From Yünnanfu we took the ordinary route via Malong, Kütsingfu, and the
Yünnan Pass into Kweichow Province. It has been admirably and fully
described in Sir A. Hosie’s latest book _On the Trail of the Opium
Poppy_, so it is unnecessary for me to do it, and I shall merely describe
the things which struck us as of special interest.

The journey from Yünnanfu to Anshun took us seventeen days—a distance
altogether of about three hundred miles.[6] From Anshunfu we struck
north, through much wilder and less-frequented country, in order to visit
the haunts of aboriginal tribes, and made a wide detour, returning to
the main road near Kwei Yang, the capital. We greatly wished to visit
other tribes in the eastern part of the province, but that was absolutely
vetoed by the governor, and we were obliged to follow the high road
through Ping-yüe and Huang Ping Chow to Chen Yüen. Here we took to the
waterway, from which we did not once swerve till we reached Shanghai.
The first part of the journey, up the Yüen Kiang, is a distance of four
hundred and forty-six miles, and one may go down it in five days, if it
is in flood, with a fair chance of getting drowned! We took ten days, but
a good deal of time was spent at places on the way. Coming up stream the
journey is long and tedious: it may extend to months instead of days. The
natural superstition of the Chinese is displayed on such a journey by the
lavish use of crackers[7] and incense to ward off evil spirits. These
superstitions will die hard: nothing less vital than genuine Christianity
can displace them.

We entered Hunan on May 14, having spent forty-two days in Kweichow
Province. The frontier is indicated by two elaborate archways, as we saw
on entering the province from Yünnan. Although Hunan is within fifteen
days’ reach of Shanghai, it has so far no facilities for travel better
than by water. It is true there is a short railway line on its western
border, but we were not encouraged to try it, and in summer there is
always a good steamship line from the capital Changsha to Hankow—a
distance of two hundred and twenty miles. The railway is part of the
projected line from Hankow to Canton, and will be of great trade value
when it is completed, as there is no good route to connect this part of
the country with the south. We intended going from Changsha into Kwangsi
Province on account of the beautiful scenery, but unfortunately that
was impossible owing to the fighting going on between the troops of the
north and the south exactly in the region where our road lay. It might be
supposed that we could have taken an alternative route through so vast a
country, but such is not the case. If you leave the great high road (and
what a misnomer that is!) there is no way except by devious paths through
endless mountain ranges, where no accommodation and little food would be
obtainable. In a province of 83,398 square miles there appear to be only
two main roads running from north to south, and three from east to west;
yet it has a population of over twenty-one millions. The two main roads
running from north to south are near the eastern and western borders, and
all the central part of the province has none. We crossed the province
entirely by water, first in a house-boat as far as Changteh, thence in a
miserable little native steamer across the Tong Ting Lake to Changsha;
from Changsha up the Siang-kiang,[8] across the Tong Ting on to the
Yangtze, which bounds the province on the north.

We had no choice, therefore, of leaving Hunan except by going to Hankow,
and we found good accommodation on a British steamer, the _Sinkiang_.
There are six good lines between Changsha and Hankow—two British, a
Japanese, and several Chinese steamship companies, whose ships run in
the summer; owing to the extraordinary subsidence of the lake in winter
(_see_ Chapter VI) it has to be discontinued then for several months.
The journey from Changsha to Hankow takes about thirty-two hours: at
Hankow we transhipped for Shanghai on a most comfortable steamer (with
nice beds), the _Nganking_, belonging to Messrs. Butterfield & Swire.
It is quite easy for travellers knowing no Chinese to penetrate by this
route into the very centre of China. I am so often asked about the
possibilities of doing this that I can only recommend this as a wholly
charming and easy way of getting about and much to be preferred to
railway travelling.

Hankow itself is a big bustling cosmopolitan town, with a rapidly
increasing volume of commerce. It is a link between old and new, and
has no less than thirty-six associations, called “hangs,” for different
kinds of goods. It has its foreign concessions like the seaports, and the
important trading companies have their own floating wharves, where the
big ocean liners moor, six hundred miles away from the coast. There are
said to be 25,000 junks engaged here in river traffic, and they connect
Hankow with all the central and western provinces, often travelling as
much as a hundred miles a day.

Hankow is a great centre of educational and missionary activity, and
many European nationalities are engaged in it. The great viceroy, Chang
Chih Tung, ardently promoted education here when he was in office. He
said in his book, _China’s Only Hope_ (p. 61), “In order to render China
powerful, and at the same time preserve our own institutions, it is
absolutely necessary that we should utilize Western knowledge. But unless
Chinese learning is made the basis of education and a Chinese direction
is given to thought, the strong will become anarchists, and the weak
slaves.” It is most deplorable that this is ignored by so many Chinese
of the present day.[9] He urged that old Buddhist and Taoist temples,
falling into decay, be transformed into schools, and he estimated that
seven out of ten, with their property, might well be devoted to this
purpose. This is quite in accordance with what is now being done,
especially in Northern China. He argued that the temples are national
property, and should be used for the common good.

Hankow is wonderfully situated as the internal trade centre of China,
being the meeting-point of its main railways as well as waterways (when
the former shall have been completed), linking up north, south, east and
west. There are three cities in the angles formed by the junction of the
Yangtze and the Han rivers—Hanyang, Hankow and Wu-chang; the last was
far the most important in the past, and is the capital of Hupeh, but now
Hankow rivals Shanghai in commercial importance, and is rapidly growing.
The three cities have a joint native population of 1,150,000, of which
Hankow has 800,000, and as its native quarter was completely destroyed
by fire during the civil war in 1911, the fine old monuments of the past
were destroyed with it. Its whole interest is modern.

Between Hankow and Shanghai are several important cities which must
be most interesting to visit, several of them being treaty ports with
foreign concessions, such as Chin-kiang and Wu-hu; the steamers stop
at least fourteen times on the way. It is delightful to spend the days
sitting in comfortable chairs on deck, watching all the varied life on
the river, hearing the “honk-honk” of the wild geese soaring overhead, or
watching the wedges of ducks crossing the river on strong wing to the big
marshes, or lakes, into which it pours its overflow.

From time to time the steamer draws to the riverside and loads or unloads
its cargo. One of the most interesting stopping-places is Nanking;
indeed, it is said to be one of the most interesting in China, and is
only about two hundred miles from Shanghai. It has an hotel kept by an
Englishman. We greatly enjoyed the river scenery of the Yangtze: there
are so many picturesque monuments in this lower part on the numerous
islands and along its banks; although it has not the wild charm of the
gorges, it is well worth making the trip. Now there is a steam service
all the way up to Chunking, so that travellers can easily do one of the
most beautiful journeys in the world at reasonable cost, in reasonable
comfort and in reasonable time, going about a thousand miles up the
finest of the great rivers of the world.[10]

On reaching Shanghai I had to part with my travelling companion and start
the journey home alone, but as events proved my steamer was delayed, and
I had several weeks in which to visit the coastal provinces of Chekiang,
Fukien and Kwantung, and to study the student movement, as described in
the concluding chapters of this book.

[Illustration]




_Chapter II_

_The Model Governor—Yen Hsi-Shan_

    “Who is the true and who is the false statesman?

    “The true statesman is he who brings order out of disorder;
    who first organizes and then administers the government of his
    own country; and having made a nation, seeks to reconcile the
    national interest with those of Europe and of mankind. He is
    not a mere theorist, nor yet a dealer in expedients; the whole
    and the parts grow together in his mind; while the head is
    conceiving, the hand is executing. Although obliged to descend
    to the world, he is not of the world. His thoughts are fixed
    not on power, or riches, or extension of territory, but on an
    ideal state, in which all the citizens have an equal chance
    of health and life, and the highest education is within the
    reach of all, and the moral and intellectual qualities of every
    individual are freely developed, and ‘the idea of good’ is the
    animating principle of the whole. Not the attainment of freedom
    alone, or of order alone, but how to unite freedom with order
    is the problem which he has to solve.

    “The statesman who places before himself these lofty
    aims has undertaken a task which will call forth all his
    powers.”—BENJAMIN JOWETT.


_Chapter II_[11]

_The Model Governor—Yen Hsi-Shan_

[Illustration]

The province of Shansi boasts having the best governor in the Chinese
Empire, and he has accomplished in the last ten years a remarkable change
in the entire province—a province which is considerably larger than Great
Britain. The city of Taiyuanfu is perhaps the most striking evidence of
this change. The whole place is unrecognizable since the days when I
first knew it in 1893. The streets are wide and well kept; at night they
are lighted by electricity, and an efficient police force keeps order
and regulates the traffic, whereas in old days the crowd used to fight
their quarrels out in their own sweet way. The horrible pariah dogs which
infested the streets without let or hindrance have entirely disappeared;
for a dog, licence has now to be obtained, and any unlicensed dogs
are promptly destroyed. The Governor Yen Hsi-Shan is the promoter of
education in all its manifold aspects; though not a Christian, he
realizes that there must be a radical change in morals, as well as in
education, if China is to become a strong nation, capable of taking her
place among the Great Powers.

To this end he has formed an organization called the “Wash the Heart
Society,” which strongly reminds one of the Mission of John the Baptist,
although he does not recognize the fact that repentance is only the
first step on the upward path. A large hall has been built in a nice
open part of the city, close to the city wall, but, alas! not in Chinese
style. The Governor is unfortunately under the influence of a Teuton,
who is the worst possible adviser in matters of architecture, as well
as other things. The hall is a deplorable mixture of every conceivable
style of Western art; it holds 3,000 people and services are held there
every Sunday morning, each lasting one hour, and each for the benefit of
a separate class of people—merchants, military, students. So far there
seems to be no provision for women, but perhaps that will come later.
The population is bidden to come and reflect on its evil ways and to
seek amendment of life. A special feature of the service is a time of
silence for self-examination. This Society was started in the province of
Shansi, but I found its halls in other parts of the Empire as well, and
it is a hopeful sign of the times. The approach to the hall is by a good
macadamized road, and near by is a tea-house beside the tiny lake—the
Haizabien—and a bandstand where the élite of the city gather on summer
evenings to listen to sweet music and sip countless cups of tea.

[Illustration: Yen Hsi Shan, Statesman.

_Page 49_]

Big houses are being built by wealthy Chinese in this neighbourhood, and
there are large Government schools for girls as well as boys. Facing
the entrance to a girls’ school, which is housed in a disused temple,
we saw a list pasted up on a wall, giving the names of successful girl
students in a recent Government examination. What an amazing contrast to
the old days, when no Government schools for girls were in existence;
they only came into being since the downfall of the old regime in 1907,
but the Chinese Ministry of Education, which based its present system on
that of Japan, is recognizing the importance of women’s education and is
encouraging it by this official recognition of success in examinations.

It is not sufficient only to give the women schools, but it is
imperative to supply them also with scope for wider culture and congenial
activities when they leave school. To this end a kind of club, or
institute, is to be started at once on ground opposite the Governor’s
hall, and it is in response to the ladies’ own request: they have long
been saying, “The men have their Y.M.C.A., why cannot we have such a
place?” and although the mission ladies have done their best to meet the
need, obviously no private house can be adequate, not to mention the
fact that Chinese ladies have too much self-respect to be willing to
be always guests of ladies with limited incomes, to whom they can make
but scant return. It is hoped that the new hall will do much to forward
the woman’s movement in Taiyuanfu; there will be social gatherings,
lectures on hygiene (for illustration of which there is to be a complete
installation of sanitary fittings), a child-welfare department, invalid
cooking, lessons on nursing, and many other classes connected with
women’s welfare. There is room for a garden and tennis courts in order
that recreation and physical culture may be encouraged and the place
made attractive to girls as well as women. The Governor is promoting
this last matter indirectly, by putting a fine on foot-binding, which is
unfortunately still extremely prevalent. The movement that took place
some years ago in favour of a natural foot seems to have died down, and
everywhere there is foot-binding in full swing. The queue has practically
disappeared from China during the last few years, and men wear their
hair mostly rather short, while some go in for a clean shave. I find
this quite attractive when the skull is well-shaped, and if the man is
in immaculate summer garb, the effect of cleanliness is wonderful. If
the women of China were less conservative, and would make an equally
clean sweep of foot-binding, it would make an immense difference to their
health.

The Governor has encouraged physical culture not only indirectly but
directly as well, for he even went so far as to ride in a bicycle race
once in Shansi, and in 1918 public sports took place at Taiyuanfu, which
Sir John Jordan honoured by his presence, having taken the tiresome
nineteen hours’ journey from Peking for the purpose.[12] A disused temple
acted as the grand-stand and an angle of the city wall was converted into
the arena, the tiers of seats being hewn in the base of the wall. Quite a
fine sports ground was prepared under the superintendence of one of the
missionaries, whose advice in practical matters is continually sought
by the Governor. The only matter for regret on this occasion was the
deplorable weather, for even sunny Shansi has moments when a dusty fit of
temper obscures its lustre.

One of the Governor’s most valuable new institutions is a farm for
cattle-breeding. It is just outside the city and has been successfully
started by an American and his wife. The main object is to improve the
breed of horses, cows, sheep, etc., and for this purpose stock is being
imported from the United States, whose Government has recently supplied
the necessary transport for horses, when this difficulty of shipment
arose with regard to animals already purchased; a large number of sheep
have already been imported from Australia. Shansi is a suitable province
for this experiment and missionaries have already proved there the
excellent results of cross-breeding cows, obtaining supplies of milk of
improved quality, as well as largely-increased quantity. In a recent book
on China, highly recommended to me, an American writer states that there
is only one milk-giving cow in the Empire, and that tinned milk supplies
the rest, but evidently the traveller had not travelled far!

Another of the Governor’s institutions is a College of Agriculture and
Forestry in connexion with which there are many mulberry trees being
planted for the promotion of sericulture. This has never been pursued
with success in Shansi; hitherto only the commoner kinds of silk have
been produced, but it is considered a patriotic deed to promote it,
and the most exquisite and costly silk is now being made in a disused
temple, by Yen’s order. Perhaps the almost religious way in which it
was regarded in bygone times, when the Empress herself took a ceremonial
part in the rearing of silkworms 3,000 years ago, has caused this revival
of schools of sericulture. I visited one in the South, and after seeing
all the processes was invited to take a handful of worms away as a
memento! Governor Yen has sent 100 students to France to study textiles.
Afforestation is nowhere more needed than in Shansi, and it is to be
hoped that the Government will push this side of the work of the college.
We found such a college had been started in remote Kweichow also, cut
off from most of the new movements in China. Plantations had been made
in various parts, but they will need to be carefully guarded, as the
poverty of the inhabitants lead them to destroy ruthlessly every twig
they can for firewood; where there used to be large forests nothing now
remains of them. The genius of the Chinese race for agriculture is so
remarkable that one may well expect great results from these colleges:
the vast population has been able in the past to produce food more or
less according to its needs, but when there is a dearth of rain, or other
cause producing bad harvests, there is at once terrible scarcity, and the
application of Western knowledge and agricultural implements ought to be
of considerable value.

There are in some parts such as Chekiang as many as four harvests per
annum, and no sooner is one reaped than the land is prepared for the
next. The introduction of new trees, vegetables, etc., would add greatly
to the wealth of the country, and with its unrivalled climate and soil
there is every reason to promote the multiplication of agricultural
colleges.

One of the most noticeable changes in Taiyuanfu is the complete absence
of the beggar of hideous mien, who dogs the steps of strangers in every
other city in China, and who seems to be the most immovable feature
of life in the East. He was an integral part, one had been taught to
believe, of the social fabric, and as hallowed as the very temple itself;
yet Taiyuanfu has the glory of having solved this difficult problem.
All the male beggars have been collected into the splendid old temple of
Heaven and Hell to be taught a trade, so as to be able to earn a living,
and they are not dismissed until they are capable of doing so. They
seemed quite a jolly crew, and were hard at work in various buildings,
though others of these were closed for the New Year. The most interesting
part of the institution was the town band which has been formed out of
the younger part of the beggar population. They were summoned to play for
our amusement, and they ended by playing for their own. The performance
was most creditable, especially considering that the band was only seven
months old; if there was some defect in tune, there was an excellent
sense of rhythm, which I have found lacking in many bands of long
standing at home; and it was really fascinating to see the gusto with
which they all played. The band has already taken part in various town
functions, and is making itself useful. The music is, of course, Western,
as are the instruments. Chinese musical instruments do not give enough
sound, as a rule, for large gatherings.

The rules of the workhouse seem good, and the inmates can earn money
(five dollars per month) so as to have something in hand when they leave.
The women’s department is in another part of the city and we had not time
to visit it. It is very noticeable how the temples are being everywhere
used for such useful purposes, for the housing question is here, as at
home, a serious problem. No doubt it would be good from a practical point
of view that these buildings should be replaced by new ones, built for
the purpose, but the loss of beauty would be incalculable. The temple of
Heaven and Hell has glorious turquoise-blue roofs and handsome tiles and
large medallions of green pottery on the walls. It is the most beautiful
of all the temples, in my opinion, though the Imperial Temple, where the
Dowager Empress stayed on her historic flight to Sianfu, is also very
fine. This is now used as a school for the teaching of the new script,
which is a simplified form of the Chinese character. It was devised in
1918 by the Ministry of Education in order to make literacy easier for
the population. The ordinary Chinese boy takes three or four years longer
than the Western boy to learn to read. When the old system of education
was abolished in 1907 a new one had to be devised, but it is an extremely
difficult thing to carry out such a reform throughout so vast an empire.
Governor Yen Hsi-Shan is an ardent promoter of the scheme, and he has
established the school for the express purpose of promoting it. Every
household in Taiyuanfu is required to send at least one member to study
the script; in order to make it easier, there are a few characters, with
their equivalent in the old script, put up outside many of the shops, so
that people may learn it as they go about their business. Not only so,
but all over the city may be seen notice boards with the two scripts in
parallel columns, and these boards have generally some one studying them,
not infrequently with notebook in hand. Many of the schools are teaching
it, but it is difficult to add this to an already well-filled time-table.
It may be of interest to know that it is “a phonetic system containing
thirty-nine symbols (divided into three denominations, viz. twenty-four
initials, three medials and twelve finals).”—_North China Daily News._

This is one part of an important movement for the unification of the
language, the importance of which can only be fully realized by those
who have travelled widely in China. Not only every province varies from
every other province, but also every district from every other district.
There are sixty-four dialects in Fukien alone. The unification of the
Empire would be greatly promoted by the unification of the language, and
this has been frankly recognized by the Ministry of Education, which has
issued a notice to that effect:

“We recognize that because of the difference between our classical and
spoken language, education in the schools makes slow progress, and the
keen edge of the spirit of union both between individuals and in society
at large has thereby been blunted. Moreover, if we do not take prompt
steps to make the written and the spoken language the same quickly, any
plans for developing our civilization will surely fail.

“This Ministry of Education has for several years made positive advances
in promoting such a National Language. All educationists, moreover,
throughout the country are in favour of a change by which the teaching
of the national spoken language shall take the place of the classical
language. Inasmuch, therefore, as all desire to promote education in the
National Language, we deem it wise not to delay longer in the matter.

“We therefore now order that from the autumn of this current year,
beginning in the primary schools for the first and second years, all
shall be taught the National Spoken Language, rather than the National
Classical Language. Thus the spoken and written languages will become
one. This Ministry requests all officials to take notice and act
accordingly.”

It is not sufficient, as we all know, merely to issue such an order.
Governor Yen has taken various practical ways of enforcing it. Posters
with large script characters have been widely set up, exhorting the
people to study the script, and a daily paper is issued in it. He has had
2,500,000 copies printed of a simple script primer, and has published
at a nominal price, and in vast numbers, various educational books,
such as _What the People Ought to Know_,[13] _New Criminal Laws of the
Republic_, and _Handbook for Village Leaders_. The last-named is of
special importance in view of the fact that by his order reading- and
lecture-rooms have been established in all the cities and large villages
of the province, where lectures and talks are given from time to time
on various subjects of interest to the people. A regular educational
campaign may be said to have been inaugurated by Yen. On every post and
wall in the remotest villages may be seen maxims inculcating honesty,
diligence, industry, patriotism and military preparedness.

[Illustration: Temple of Heaven and Hell, Workhouse.

_Page 53_]

An important new book which Governor Yen has recently published, is
called _What Every Family Ought to Know_, and is a description of what he
conceives to be a good home and the happiness which results from it. “If
we desire to have a good home, virtue is of first importance,” he says,
but alas! he gives no clue as to how it is to be achieved.

The chief rules for family life are, (i) Friendliness, (ii) Magnanimity,
(iii) Dignity, (iv) Rectitude, (v) Diligence, (vi) Economy, (vii)
Cleanliness, (viii) Quietness. He makes the Head of the House
responsible, as setting the example, and exhorts him to repentance
(if he falls short) before God and his ancestors. The whole book is
eminently practical, and he recommends what would be a startling change
of immemorial custom, that the son should not marry until he is grown
up and able to support a wife in a home of his own—namely, not under
his father’s roof. This is an innovation which is beginning to be seen
elsewhere, as the result of foreign intercourse.

As a writer, Governor Yen is concise and practical: he has completely
broken away from the old Chinese classical style. His last work is
written, like all his books, in simple mandarin instead of in beautiful
classical mandarin, so that every one may be able to understand it. This
is the more noteworthy, because the additional cost entailed was $5,400
per leaf; he states this fact in the preface of _What the People Ought to
Know_.

His one object appears to be the uplift of the people in every way, and
he believes in God and in righteousness. As an index of his view of life
it may be interesting to quote a few of the forty Family Maxims which
form the concluding chapter of his above-named book.

    “Unjust wealth brings calamity.”

    “Vitiated air kills more people than prison.”

    “To be cruel to one’s own is to be worse than a beast.”

    “Of people who lack a sense of responsibility—the fewer the
    better.”

    “If your conscience tells you a thing is wrong, it _is_ wrong:
    DON’T do it.”

    “The experience of the uneducated is much to be preferred to
    the inexperience of the educated.”

    “The wise are self-reliant, the stupid apply to others.”

    “There is no greater calamity than to give reins to one’s
    desires, and no greater evil than self-deception.”

Governor Yen, it will be seen, from his words as well as from his deeds,
is a clear-sighted, independent thinker, and he believes in religious
liberty. His reforms deal with a wide range of things—opium-smoking,
narcotics, polygamy, infanticide, early marriages, early burial,
gambling, training and morals of the troops, compulsory free education
for boys, the introduction of uniform weights and measures, alteration
in legal affairs. All these and other matters have within the last five
years occupied his thoughts and been practically dealt with—no small
achievement, especially when the insecurity of his position and lack of
trained men to carry out his projects is taken into consideration.

As will be readily understood, all these enterprises cost money, and
taxation is never looked on kindly by the taxed, so there is some
discontent among the people of Shansi, and the Central Government,
instead of showing satisfaction at the prosperity and good government of
the province, which is in striking contrast to that of so many others,
has taken the opportunity of threatening to impose a Civil Governor in
Shansi—that means a heavy squeeze, and in consequence, the stoppage of
many of the Governor’s schemes. He is continually threatened by those who
would like to see him out of the way, and is consequently rarely seen,
and then strongly guarded.

The system of having military governors is extremely bad, but in the case
of an exceptional man like Yen it has worked well, and the Government
saved its “face” by uniting the civil and military governorship in his
one person. At the present time the Government has ordered the military
governor of Shensi to retire in favour of another Tuchun. He refuses to
do so, and his various military friends are all hurrying to the rescue.
It is estimated that there are one and a half million soldiers in China,
largely unpaid, so that they are glad of any excuse to loot and pillage.
Feng Yu Hsiang has been sent up to Shensi by the Government to compel the
Tuchun to leave, and has carried out the work with brilliant success.
He has in vain been demanding money to pay his troops, while turbulent,
unscrupulous generals have been receiving large sums to prevent them from
committing excesses.

The Tuchuns have been encouraging opium-growing in order to get funds,
and now there is hardly a province where it is not done more or less
openly. Governor Yen has set his face against it, but smuggling goes
on all the time, mainly from Japan, and morphia is also becoming
increasingly popular. No wonder Young China is clamouring for the
suppression of the Tuchuns and disarmament: there can be no peace in
China till this is done.

One of the most interesting places in the city is the model gaol, which
was planned and carried out by Mr. Hsü, who studied in Japan and has
progressive views. It covers a considerable space of ground and is
entirely one-storied; it is in the shape of a wheel, with many spokes
radiating from the centre. The entrance is charming, as unlike as it is
possible to imagine to any English prison. Within the gates is a lovely
garden, for Chinese are first-rate gardeners, and the prisoners raise all
the vegetables necessary for the inmates, and a grand show of flowers to
boot. An avenue of trees leads to the offices, and when we were there in
February we saw beautiful little trees of prunus in full bloom on the
office table! All the prisoners have to work at useful trades, and if it
were not for their fetters it would be difficult to imagine one was in a
prison at all. The workshops were bright and airy; every one looked well
cared for and not unhappy. A feature of the workrooms was the boards on
which all tools were hung up when not in use, each tool being numbered
and outlined on the board, so that it should be hung on its own peg.
Every kind of trade was in full swing, and the work is so well executed
that there is never any lack of orders. Certainly one would be only too
glad to have things made under such good conditions.

The sleeping accommodation was excellent: the cells and beds of
remarkable cleanliness and comfort; no one could object to them. The
bath-house was of some interest. All the inmates have to undergo a weekly
bath on Sundays, in batches of ten at a time, and their clothes are also
kept thoroughly clean. The kitchen looked most attractive, and the rice
and soup, which form the staple of their food, compared favourably with
what one sees in the inns. The prisoners, too, are allowed as much as
they like at their two daily meals. Throughout the Army there are no more
than two meals a day. The place of punishment looked uncommonly like a
theatre stage, and one cannot but hope that soon all executions will take
place within the prison precincts instead of in public; but as Europe has
not yet learnt to do this, one cannot be surprised that China has not.

After inspecting the Delco Engine, which provides light for the whole
place, we went to visit the women’s prison, which is within the same
enclosure as the men’s, though separated by a wall. It was very
much smaller in extent but equally well kept, and even, I must add,
_attractive_. The matron was a pleasant-faced, comely woman, and her own
room quite a picture. The white-curtained bed, pretty coverlet, vase
of flowers, and various little treasures suggested a home, and as she
took us round, it was easy to see that she was happy in her work. We
passed through the dining-room, where the tables were spread with clean
cloths, and bowls and chopsticks were ready for the forthcoming meal.
The prisoners were only about thirty in number, and were busy making
mattresses and clothing, knitting and crocheting. It was suggested that
they should sing a hymn, which they did with evident pleasure, and some
of them talked with the missionary, who comes to see them once a week.
The matron is not a Christian, but finds the singing and reading does
them so much good that she has taken to learning and to teaching them
herself. The missionaries were originally invited by the master to come
and speak to the prisoners, and it is now a regular custom. One woman who
is in for murder has become quite a changed character, and her term has
been shortened in consequence of her good behaviour. Some were in for
opium-smoking, which is here a punishable offence, while in other parts
of the empire it is frankly encouraged.

The prisoners are allowed to have a visitor once a month, but no
complaints are allowed to be made. Visits are stopped if this happens.
The prisoners can earn money—if they work sufficiently well—which is
placed to their credit for payment when their sentence is up.

The prison system was appalling in China previous to 1912, but it was
then decided that it must be radically changed. It was reckoned that
it would take seven years completely to re-model it in the twenty-two
provinces. I have only seen one other of these new prisons at Tientsin,
and it was not nearly so attractive as the Taiyuanfu one, but still
worthy of imitation in many European countries. It had a sort of chapel
in which moral addresses were given, but, it is only in the one at
Changteh—under General Feng’s jurisdiction[14]—that a chapel was to
be found where missionaries had regular services, each mission being
responsible for a month at a time, in rotation. The Chinese Government
has no small task still before it, for it is estimated that a sum of at
least $24,000,000 will be required to provide the new gaols, besides
which the Government scheme provides reformatories, Prisoners’ Protection
and Aid Societies.

So much is said at present in the European Press about the disorders
and misgovernment in China, that it is only fair to let people know
that a steady tide of reform is flowing on at the same time, which will
render possible a great forward movement when once there is a settled
government. Not only are there new gaols, but new barracks, and a large
military hospital of which the M.O. is a fine capable Chinaman, trained
in the Mission Hospital; he is always ready to lend a hand there still
when needed. I was interested to see him doing so one day when the young
Chinaman in charge had a serious operation to perform, and if comparison
were to be made between that and some European ones I have seen, it would
not be in favour of the latter. The mission-trained Chinese are the only
men capable of carrying out many of the reforms now taking place in
China, owing to the dearth of trained Chinese. The Governor has sent nine
students, selected by competitive examination, to study medicine at the
Tsinanfu Christian university,[15] and 100 to France to study textiles.

One of the latest reforms of Governor Yen is particularly interesting:
it is the power to make his will known in any part of the 70,000 square
miles (or thereabouts) of Shansi within twenty-four hours. Considering
that the railway line only runs up to Taiyuanfu—seventy miles or less
through the province, and that the telegraph wires coincide with it—this
is a truly amazing achievement. It is managed by means of telephone and
of fast runners.

The mineral wealth of Shansi is phenomenal, and Baron v. Richthoven
estimated that its coal would supply the whole world for several thousand
years. Anthracite and iron are found in large quantities, besides other
minerals. Given, therefore, a stable government and a progressive
Governor like Yen, the province of Shansi is capable of becoming a most
important place, in fact, of world-wide importance.

The difficulty of transport is one of the main drawbacks at present, and
the loess formation is not only a bar to this, but also to irrigation of
Taiyuanfu, owing to the curious ravines, sometimes as much as a hundred
feet deep, through which traffic often passes, and the sides of which may
at any time give way, burying the luckless travellers beneath them. The
Governor has sent to England to buy 100 second-hand Government transport
lorries, and no doubt he has plans for overcoming the difficulties, if
only he is left in peace to develop them. He was formally proclaimed
“Model Tuchun” by the Chinese Government in 1918, and although he is not
yet forty, has proved himself one of China’s ablest governors.

[Illustration]




_Chapter III_

_The Province of Yünnan_

    “International life—a product of science, industry and economic
    relations—is hardly yet born; yet it is daily becoming a more
    and more comprehensive reality, including within its sphere
    items whose numbers and importance are steadily increasing. Nor
    is this common life merely international. Might not one say
    that it is also inter-ethnic, in the sense of embracing the
    most diverse races, not only in Europe, but also in America,
    Asia and Africa? Over the whole globe we are witnessing the
    spread and propagation of ideas that are also forces—motor
    ideas, which are everywhere identical and are drawing very
    different minds in the same directions.”—ALFRED FOUILLÉE.


_Chapter III_

_The Province of Yünnan_

[Illustration: CHAIR COOLIES.]

Yünnanfu, the capital of the province, is a most fascinating place and
situated in a most lovely district. I visited it thirteen years ago,
before the coming of the French and their railway, and found it very
interesting to study the changes which have taken place. These are
important, but not so deep-reaching as in other cities, and I asked
myself what the reason was.

There has grown up quite a foreign suburb round the station, and there
are French hotels, in one of which we stayed—the _Terminus_. There are
plenty of shops there, full of the cheaper kind of European goods; but
beyond this small area French influence does not seem to extend. It seems
out of harmony with the Chinese psychology, and all that we heard about
their relations was disappointing. The railway has been useful for trade
purposes, but has not promoted a good understanding between the races.
The management of it leaves much to be desired in every way, and there is
constant friction between the French and the Chinese.

It is extremely desirable that France should be represented in China by
a different quality of people from those at present in Yünnan: the bulk
of them entirely ignore the French traditions of courtesy and treat the
Chinese as a lower and subservient race; almost they look upon them as if
they had been conquered. It is a tragedy that Westerners should invade
any areas against the will of the people, and still further increase the
ill-will by their lack of manners in daily intercourse. Of course it is
not only French people who do this, but Europeans of every kind, and the
day of reckoning will surely come.

We went to see our missionary friends, who had entertained us on our last
visit, and found their premises were overflowing with guests, as all
the missionaries working in the district to the north and west had been
called in by the officials on account of the activity of the brigands. In
fact we met no less than three who had been prisoners in their hands. Two
of these had made their escape, with hairbreadth adventures, and gave us
most interesting accounts of these people. We also heard a lecture by one
who had been seven weeks in the hands of the brigands, and from him we
gathered a vivid picture of their life; always pursued, and fleeing day
and night from the soldiers sent out against them. It made us feel much
sympathy for that particular band.

Many brigands are disbanded soldiers who have taken to the life as a
last resource. Their pay was rarely forthcoming, and they have been
not infrequently disbanded with no means of earning a living. The
captain of this band is a modern Robin Hood, with certain chivalrous
ideals and strict in enforcing discipline. He treated his prisoner with
consideration, allowed him to ride his beast while he himself walked.
Mr. S. had to endure the same hardships as the robbers, but no more; the
hardships were, however, too great a strain on his health, which speedily
gave way, and he was very seriously ill by the time he was rescued, as
the result of urgent remonstrances of his American Consul.

His robber guards treated him with genuine kindness and lent him their
wraps at night to keep him warm. The chief was very anxious that Mr. S.
should mediate with the Governor of Yünnan on his behalf, and promised
that he and his men would settle down to a peaceful life, if they might
have a free pardon for their past misdeeds. They had got a considerable
amount of loot shortly before, which may have influenced them in this.
He also offered to make Mr. S. his chaplain, with a salary of a thousand
dollars a month and six months’ salary deposited in advance in a bank in
Yünnanfu! He promised that all his men should become Christians: some of
them certainly were in sympathy with Christianity. But Mr. S. knew that
it was impossible to succeed in obtaining any favourable terms for the
robbers, and declined to attempt it. A French abbé, at great personal
risk, got permission to visit the sick man and was the greatest comfort
to him, but the abbé told me that he never expected to be allowed to go
away. What the reason of the robbers was for leaving the abbé at liberty
is decidedly obscure.

Mrs. S. had begged the robbers to take her prisoner with her husband,
but they refused, as in the case of another missionary’s wife. This was
a great encouragement to us, as we were women; but when I told it to our
young interpreter, he asked tragically, “But what about me?” and was
by no means reassured when I pointed out that he was neither a man of
substance nor of political importance, and so need have no fear.

The captain of the robbers was extremely particular with regard to the
treatment of women and girls by his men. They were strictly forbidden
to molest them. On one occasion, Mr. S. told us, the parents of a girl
came to complain that a smart young fellow had taken her from their home
the night before. After inquiry into the matter and finding that the
accusation was just, the captain had the culprit taken eighty yards up
the road and shot, all the band being witnesses and obliged to pass the
dead body as they left the village where this happened. I quote this
story because we so often heard ghastly stories about the ferocity of
brigands that justice seems to demand that something be said in their
defence. If there were a better Government, brigandage might soon be
put down, as may be seen by the fact that it has entirely ceased in the
province of Shansi, under Yen Hsi Shan’s wise rule.

We stayed for ten days at Yünnan and saw many interesting things while
the preparations for our journey went on apace. As soon as we had got
permission for it we ordered chairs, which had to be made, and looked out
for a cook. By means of the Y.M.C.A. we got an admirable one, called Yao.
The Y.M.C.A. is run by Americans and is mainly educational in character
at Yünnan: they have a charming Chinese house for their premises, but
look forward to the day when funds will be sufficient to have an American
one!

One of the most important pieces of work done by foreigners is the
C.M.S.[16] Medical Mission, and they are building a fine new hospital
besides having a beautiful native house in the city. Dr. Bradley told
us of the successful work done in curing opium smokers, who wished to
break themselves of the habit. A wealthy young official had presented
complimentary tablets in gratitude for his cure. The work was rather in
abeyance pending the completion of the hospital.

There is also a fine, well-managed French hospital for Europeans, but it
is not in the railway suburb, as it was built a great many years ago,
before the railway was built, in the days when the French were first
getting a footing in the province.

But the most interesting thing to us of all the things we saw was the
Chinese Home Mission—a Society formed in 1919, by which the Chinese
take up the evangelization of China as their own special duty. This is
as it should be. The time has come when the burden of responsibility
should begin to be taken up by the Chinese Christians, because it is
of paramount importance that Christian mission work should cease to be
looked on as a foreign institution. The Chinese Church of the future
is beginning to take shape, and must grow in accordance with national
needs. It is to be the outcome of the honest hard spiritual work of
many sections of the Christian Church, but the copy of none. It is of
happy augury that in this particular section seven members of the party
represented the Presbyterians, Methodists, and American Board; while
twelve different societies are represented on their advisory board.
They have not so far formulated any creed, but have gone out rather as
pioneers to learn the needs of the people and the way in which they
can best work. They will then report to those who sent them. Not only
are Christians of all churches supporting the movement financially,
but also non-Christians show a great interest in it. The chief of the
Governor’s staff in Yünnan wrote most cordially, welcoming their coming
and promising to help them in any way he could. The missionaries have
all done the same, and they are now working most happily alongside one
another. We went to call on the two ladies of the C.H.M. settled in the
city, the others of the party being unfortunately some distance away in
robber-ridden areas of the country. Miss Li Ching Chien and Miss Chen
Yu Ling have a girls’ school in a charming old temple building, and we
found about thirty girls there, some having a lesson in the classics,
others doing needlework. They are drawn from the exclusive upper-class
families, whose doors are rigorously closed against the foreigner. They
are glad to have their daughters instructed in Western knowledge, even if
it does include Christian doctrine. The teachers told them in the opening
ceremony that the main object of the school was to promote Christianity.
They did not speak much English, but we took our interpreter, who was
pleased to find he knew one of them in Peking, when she was working
in the North China Union College for Women. They told us how they now
visit in more than a hundred houses, owing to their school work, and
are allowed to talk freely of the message, which is their chief aim. On
Sundays they hold a service in their house and a Chinese pastor preaches:
to this service men come as well as women and girls.

Meanwhile the men of the Chinese Home Mission have been visiting
different parts of the province, Pastor Ding Li-mei going as far as
Tengyueh, on the western border of Yünnan. He not only made a careful
survey of the various districts, but also preached wherever he went. He
is a man of high repute, one of the most successful and widely known
evangelists in the East of China. His wife had taken up kindergarten
work in the capital, as that has been her special line. Another of the
party, Mr. Sang, went to visit a large tin-mining district in the south,
and made a survey of Ku Chin, a prosperous city. The people of the
district are greatly addicted to opium-smoking, which is on the increase.
The Southern Government, which is supreme in Yünnan, openly encourages
opium-smoking. There is no missionary work going on in this part of the
province at present; in fact, there are not a dozen mission centres in
the whole of this huge province, 146,680 square miles, with an estimated
population of twelve millions. No wonder that the Chinese Home Mission
felt that this was the place where they were most needed; hence their
decision to start work in Yünnan, hoping to extend their work to other
provinces. Another of the party, Mr. Li, visited the northern part of
the province, crossing the border into Szechuen. At one place he found a
group of Christians, who begged him to become their pastor.

The work of the C.H.M. is gradually getting organized and has promise
of a fine future; its inception was mainly due to women, and they seem
destined to play an important part in it. Chinese women have initiative
and great staying power. One of its chief promoters was Dr. Mary
Stone,[17] an able Chinese doctor, whose reputation is known throughout
the empire. In her interesting book, _Notable Women of Modern China_,
Miss M. E. Burton gives a graphic sketch of Dr. Stone’s life, from the
time when her father brought her as a child of eight to an American lady
doctor, saying, “Here is my little girl. I want you to make a doctor of
her.” She grew up to be one of the people who tackle hard jobs of every
kind and who inspire others, as in the case of the Chinese Home Mission.
And the success of the Mission can only be secured if others take their
share in it, for “they also serve who only stand and wait.” A charming
instance of this came to my notice at Amoy. A friend took me to visit an
old pastor and his wife who had just celebrated their combined birthday
of a hundred and fifty. They said to me, “We are too old and infirm to
carry on our work, so now we have set ourselves to pray for the Mission,
and every day ten of us meet together for the purpose, and we give what
little we can.” I told them I was going to see the ladies at Yünnan, and
they were pleased at the thought of sending a message direct. Miss Li and
Miss Chen were no less pleased to receive it.

[Illustration: The Pilgrim Way, Yünnanfu Lake.

_Page 74_]

[Illustration: In Cloudland.

_Page 74_]

There are in China some hundred and twenty different societies at work,
but I venture to think that there is still room for many more Chinese
workers, if not societies. At Yünnanfu I talked to an old and experienced
missionary,[18] and he told me that he is convinced that the Chinese
are best reached by their own people, and that now he confines himself
almost entirely to superintendence and organization, while he has an
ever-increasing number of evangelists who do all the speaking and
teaching. It seems clear that the Chinese themselves feel the need of
this support, seeing that the Chinese Home Mission has elected to have a
foreign advisory committee. It is also essential to have foreign training
centres, such as Dr. Keller’s school at Changsha (_see_ page 152). At
present the training of these men is often most inadequate, owing to the
difficulty and expense of sending them long distances to the schools,
especially from the less accessible mission stations.

We did not spend all our time in the city, while preparing for our
journey eastward. Once again the lure of the lake came irresistibly on
me, and we sent our interpreter to engage a boat in advance to take
us across to the celebrated shrines. It is a long day’s expedition
and requires strong rowers. When we reached the spot, by ricksha, from
which we were to start, the boat proved quite unsuitable: it was so
heavy that it would have taken all day to get across. The only thing
was to make a fresh bargain for something more suitable, and we were
amused to find that it was women only who seemed to be in charge of this
trade. A pleasant, hefty-looking woman undertook to do the job to our
satisfaction, and we were soon gliding across the smooth waters. There
were many heavily-laden boats with lovely sails and as picturesque a
crowd of passengers as you could wish to see, who were crossing the lake
either to or from the city. Other boats were employed in fishing. The
air was most lovely and the colouring of lake and sky and mountains a
dream of beauty. Our two men and two women rowed like Trojans, and in
two hours we landed at the foot of fine crags on the further shore. We
climbed up a steep zigzag path, often up a rock stairway, through the
pine-trees. The air was filled with the scent of roses, and the birds
sang; nothing disturbed the delicious stillness of the place. From time
to time we reached a shrine where the devout pilgrim worships, and always
found a terrace or balcony with stone balustrade on which were perched
quaint carved beasts, and from which there was a glorious view across
the shimmering lake. Sometimes we passed through fine carved gateways,
and we found the thousand steps rather long and weary! At one shrine a
young acolyte, suffering from hip disease, prepared tea for us, before we
attacked the topmost stage of pilgrimage. This led by a passage cut in
the face of the rock to a very lofty little shrine, where squirrels were
sporting among the overhanging shrubs. We entered the dragon gate, over
which was inscribed the legend “Blessing to all who come.”

A party of Chinese women had actually climbed all the way up on their
tiny feet and welcomed us with charming courtesy. After they had chatted
for a few moments they turned in absorbed interest to their religious
duties: cash were dropped in the box, incense lighted and due obeisances
and prayers offered to the god carved in the solid wall of rock.

The view from the terrace was sublime, and far below the water was dotted
with white sails that looked like insects on its surface. The overhanging
cliff was of great height, and there was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet
to the narrow belt of cornland on the margin of the lake, whose further
shore was lost in the midday haze. The lake is called K’un-Yang-Hai; it
is forty miles long and from five to eight miles wide; no wonder the
people call it the “sea”! As we came down we noticed some scribbling on
one of the temples “against Japanese goods,” with a rough drawing of a
man with a pistol. Everywhere this hatred is shown in one form or another.

We had much interesting talk with an Englishman in our hotel, who had
been there for more than six months trying to establish trade relations
with the local authorities on behalf of his firm. The mineral wealth of
Yünnan is proverbially great: it has rich mines of gold, silver, copper,
iron, lead, coal, zinc, tin, and also salt and petroleum wells. The ores
are of good quality and easily extracted, so that Yünnan has boundless
wealth, if she chooses to develop it. But the Yünnanese are thoroughly
unprogressive and a lazy, lethargic people, very different from other
Chinese. The officials absolutely declined to sell their raw products,
and it was precisely the ore which the English firm wished to buy: it
was quite useless in its manufactured form. Their envoy hoped to have
completed his business in a few weeks, but months had already elapsed,
and although he thought the end was in sight, it was still a matter of
uncertainty. Probably a substantial bribe would have accelerated matters;
but not only is bribery unworthy of our trade traditions, but in the long
run injurious to trade itself. The trade relations of China are by no
means easy, and all nations are bidding for special facilities.

What a pity that the world as a whole cannot be converted to the policy
of Free Trade! What a clearing of the moral atmosphere it would make;
and what temptations would be saved to frail human nature!

Nine days after reaching Yünnanfu we started on our journey eastward.
No one who has not experienced it can imagine the thrill of delight
with which we set forth in search of adventures! We said good-bye to
many helpful friends, got all our papers in order, and a letter of
recommendation to the Governor of Kweichow; at an early hour of the day
an escort of ten white-uniformed soldiers was waiting outside, ready to
accompany us. We had seventeen coolies, and looked quite an imposing
procession. First came our two four-bearer chairs, then the interpreter’s
three-bearer chair, the cook’s two-bearer chair (it is important to
preserve the etiquette of position), and finally four coolies carrying
the luggage; part of the escort led the way and part brought up the rear.

How amusing it is to see the way in which human nature asserts itself,
and how many are the little comic touches of travel, which are too small
to enumerate, but which lend such charm to daily life, when you have
a congenial fellow traveller at your elbow! Very soon our interpreter
found his mountain chair not suitable to his dignity, and told me he had
decided to travel in a “paper box”: this is an accurate definition of
the chair which is commonly in use, and which is so carefully enclosed
that from its depths you can scarcely see anything of the scenery. When
the front blind is down there is nothing to be seen, but the passenger
in this chaste seclusion can indulge in philosophic meditation—or sleep.
Our cook, on the other hand, found his chair an unnecessary luxury, and
soon the thrifty fellow asked permission to have the money instead of the
coolie hire. I willingly agreed, as he never lagged behind and was always
eager to do any stray job, and to collect wild flowers for us from the
fragrant rose bushes and hedgerows.

That first day from Yünnanfu we passed fields full of beans and corn and
rape, not to mention opium poppy, which was to be the main crop we saw
all along the way in these southern provinces.

Very soon our joy was chastened by a tremendous rainstorm, but we were
glad to find that our chairs were perfectly rainproof. The top was
covered with American cloth and there were blinds of the same material
to let down on all sides. When we reached our inn, Yao had a room ready
for us, which he had swept out. Our procedure from that time forward
was to send him on ahead after lunch, and he would secure the best
possible room—pretty bad at that—sweep it out, together with any movable
furniture, and have clean straw mats—or as clean as were obtainable—laid
down. When we arrived it took very little time to set up our camp beds,
table, chairs and washstand. We had a canteen with us, so that all the
food was cooked in our own pans, and Yao proved an excellent cook and
foraged well on the road. We only took such necessaries as butter, jam,
milk, tea, bread and biscuits with us, but Yao was clever in making
bread under great difficulties when we happened to run short of it. All
travellers, however, experience the generous hospitality of missionaries,
who seem to consider it a commonplace to provide travellers with bread
and cakes galore. We rarely failed to come to a mission station once a
week, and then our provision baskets were re-stocked. We only carried two
baskets of provisions, namely one coolie load, for three months’ journey,
and had a good deal left at the end: some of the things were special
foods in case of illness, but fortunately they were not required.

From the time we left the capital we gradually rose till we came to the
pass leading into Kweichow. The very first day we came to an altitude of
fifty-nine hundred feet, and this was at the foot of an imposing mountain
called Tu-Du-Shan, or Lord of the Earth; all the next day we skirted
round its base. This day the road was not considered dangerous, so we
only had unarmed police as our escort. They were more decorative than
useful, as generally was the case, but the following day we saw a ghastly
spectacle, which suggested a possible need for protection—two human heads
in a tree and other remains being devoured by a dog in a neighbouring
field. The beauty of the road and all the loveliness of nature seemed
blighted, and it was difficult to rid oneself of the painful impression.
Yet my father saw the body of a criminal swinging in chains on an Essex
common not a hundred years ago, and the musical world listens with
enchantment to “Le Gibet” and enjoys Ravel’s realistic presentation of
it. Some people love horrors: I confess it is the one thing that took the
joy out of our wanderings.

We were asked by one of the missionaries before leaving Yünnan to make
a slight detour on our way to visit a sick woman, as he had done what
he could to relieve her, but not being a doctor he was uncertain as to
treatment, and wished my niece to diagnose the case; if any medicine
could be of use, he would see that she got it. Our arrival created much
interest in the village, and every one would have liked to be spectators
when the medical examination was made. In fact the paper windows
disappeared as by magic, so we had to have a shutter put up, and a native
lamp threw little light on the patient. The one noticeable fact was that
although she was too ill to do any housework the place was scrupulously
clean, and the husband had everything ready in the way of water for
washing. The contrast between a Christian and a non-Christian house in
the matter of cleanliness was really remarkable.

In several of our halting-places there were small Christian communities,
though no resident missionary. They always welcomed us with great
cordiality and invited us to their meetings. These are held in rooms
which are usually paid for by some member of the community, which carries
on the work without much help from any mission: just an occasional visit
and the knowledge that the missionary will help them in any time of need.
In the village of Yi-ling there was an evangelist, who came to call
on us with one of his chief helpers, a grocer; this man had been most
generous in furnishing the hall, and they begged us to come to meeting
that evening. There was quite a large crowd present and the service was
a hearty one; the people looked mostly of a low type and very unlike
Chinese. They asked me to speak, and listened well. After interpreting
for me, Mr. Li, our interpreter, gave an impassioned address, which
revealed to me the fact that he was more keen than I had realized.
His first inquiry in every place was to know if there was a Christian
community.

We were more and more enchanted with the fine scenery as we rose to
greater heights. White and yellow jasmine, white and yellow Banksia
roses, both single and double, filled the air with their fragrance, and
vivid bushes of azalea made glorious patches of colour on the steep
hill-sides. At night we were about sixty-four hundred feet up, and in
the daytime we climbed to considerably higher altitudes. The dangers of
the road were supposed to be increasing as we neared the picturesque
town of Malong, so our military escort rose to ten, further supported by
two policemen not in uniform. Other travellers eagerly took advantage
of their protection and we looked quite an imposing procession. The way
led up very steep mountains and dived sharply down into deep valleys.
Trees full of white or pale mauve blossom were numerous, and scarlet
azalea made a fine contrast. The people in the villages looked hideously
poor and degraded, some of them obviously imbeciles and many with
large goitres: in some villages there were fifty per cent. suffering
from goitre; the beggars were simply terrifying. Again we had a severe
thunderstorm, which came on quite suddenly when we were lunching by the
wayside, and we made ourselves as small as possible in crevices of the
rock. Our poor coolies got very wet and took us at a great pace, as soon
as the rain stopped, to our next halting-place—Malong. The temperature
was 61°.

The night was stormy, and in the morning clouds betokened the
thunderstorm which soon broke, driving us to take scanty refuge in the
crevices of the hill-side. We were glad to reach a mission station early
in the afternoon at Küticul, where we stayed the night. We heard much
about the poverty of the district and the increasing cultivation of
opium poppy. It is tragic to see this when a few years ago the land was
filled with crops needed for the daily food of the people. In some parts
half the crops are opium, and it demands a great deal of labour! The land
has to be twice ploughed, the second time crosswise, well manured, and
the seed (mixed with four times its quantity of sand) is sown three times
between October and March. After the sowing the land has to be harrowed,
then the young plants are hoed and weeded, generally by the women and
children. I have seen the women sitting on stools to do it on account
of their poor little bound feet. This weeding goes on from early spring
till the poppy flowers—generally in May. The petals fall quickly and the
capsule swells till it is about one and a half inches in diameter; this
takes about nine to fifteen days. A special instrument has to be used
to make an incision three-quarters of the way round the capsule, and
this must be done with care as it must not penetrate more than a certain
depth, or the juice will flow inward instead of outward. The incision
is generally made after the middle of the day, on account of the heat,
and the juice must be collected next morning, being scraped off with
a knife and put in a poppy leaf. It is said that the knife has to be
moistened with saliva after every alternate poppy, to prevent the juice
from sticking to it! As soon as the poppy leaf is filled with juice,
another leaf is put over it and it is laid aside in the shade to dry.
This takes several days; the opium in each varies from two ounces to two
pounds, according to the district where it is grown. Sometimes the juice
is collected twice, or even three times, though no second incision of the
capsule is required. It makes one tired to think of the labour required,
especially at the time of collecting the juice, which is necessarily
limited, despite the three sowings.[19]

Opium is said to have been introduced into China in the seventeenth
century, and the first Imperial edict forbidding the use of it was in
1729. The Portuguese were mainly employed in the trade in those early
days. Fresh edicts against it failed to prevent its being smuggled in,
as at the present day, though they became increasingly severe, till the
death penalty was inflicted. The last edict under the Imperial rule was
in 1906, but the dowager empress herself enjoyed her opium pipe, so she
ordained that people over sixty were not to come under the scope of the
act!

[Illustration: The Gate of the Elements.

_Page 84_]

The great Chang Chih-Tung is very emphatic in his denunciation of the
drug. “A hundred years ago the curse came upon us, more blasting and
deadly in its effects than the Great Flood or the scourge of the Fierce
Beasts, for the water assuaged after nine years, and the ravages of the
man-eaters were confined to one place. Opium has spread with frightful
rapidity and heartrending results through the provinces. Millions upon
millions have been struck down by the plague. To-day it is running
like wild-fire. In its swift deadly course it is spreading devastation
everywhere, wrecking the minds and eating away the strength and wealth
of its victims. The ruin of the mind is the most woeful of its many
deleterious effects. The poison enfeebles the will, saps the strength
of the body, renders the consumer incapable of performing his regular
duties, and unfit for travel from one place to another. It consumes his
substance and reduces the miserable wretch to poverty, barrenness and
senility. Unless something is soon done to arrest this awful scourge in
its devastating march, the Chinese people will be transformed into satyrs
and devils!”[20] Many thoughtful Chinese are apprehensive that opium will
finally extirpate the race. This is a severe indictment, but there are
plenty of leading men who will endorse it.

The Republican Government determined to stamp out the evil, and none but
the Chinese could have accomplished so great a reform so rapidly: in
many of the northern provinces there is no poppy grown. But the Southern
Government has not followed suit. No doubt the question of revenue
prevents it; for opium is one of the most lucrative crops as regards
taxation. Naturally there are times of great scarcity, and then it is
quite common for the people to sell their children for food. A missionary
told us of one child being sold for one and a half dollars (about three
shillings): this was a boy of three years old. We saw two nice little
girls on the road being taken to be sold as slaves.

After leaving Küticul we found our coolies very troublesome, and had to
have recourse to the magistrate on two occasions, with a good result. One
day the men firmly refused to go more than an absurdly short stage, and
deposited us in the middle of a village. Our head man stormed and raged,
not another step would they budge. Finally we made a compromise: we
stayed there on the understanding that they would do a hundred and five
li next day, about thirty-two miles. The magistrate later in the day had
an interview with Li and the head coolie, and emphasized the fact that
the agreement had got to be carried out, and the escort was instructed to
come early.

The spell worked! We started about six o’clock on a lovely misty morning,
the dew lying heavy on the grass, and our men walked with a will for some
hours. But like the mist, their zeal evaporated: after lunch they said
they must each have a dollar to go on. Li was in despair at seeing his
remonstrances unheeded. I sent him off to the magistrate. He counselled
giving them ten cents each, and ordered them to start: there was nothing
to be done save agree to it, as the head coolie had disappeared,
evidently feeling unable to cope with the situation. The men grumbled,
but set off, and by a quarter past six we reached Ping-yi, a stiff
twelve hours’ journey. We felt a little sorry for the luggage coolies
and wondered if the loads were not rather heavy, but as they raced at
the end of the stage to see who would be in first, we felt our pity was
misplaced. We stayed in mission premises where a kind old caretaker was
most solicitous for our welfare. Yao could hardly be persuaded not to
prepare our evening meal, but we decided to prepare it for ourselves and
sent him off to the inn with Li.

This was our last night in Yünnan, and we had a wonderful moonlight view
over the valley, which, combined with a hard bed, led me to spend much of
the night beside the window, writing letters. It was an unwonted pleasure
to sleep upstairs and to have a view.

Next day in our escort we had a most friendly young policeman, who was
keen to help us pick flowers after assiduously dealing with our luggage.
We crossed several fine bridges and counted seven varieties of roses,
five varieties of azaleas, iris, Japanese anemones, etc., etc. By midday
we had climbed up to the dividing line between the provinces of Yünnan
and Kweichow: it was marked by a most dilapidated archway leading into
a little village. The usual tutelary stone lions are on either side the
pailou, but those facing into Yünnan have dust and fishy scales carved
on their backs, while those facing into Kweichow have only scales. What
is the meaning of this symbolism? Dust stands for wind and scales for
water, and truly Yünnan has not only rain but also wind in full measure,
while as for Kweichow, we no sooner crossed the threshold than the sun
disappeared and down came the rain.

One day we asked a Kweichow man who had attached himself uninvited to
our company, when we might hope to see the sunshine! He took a long
time to answer the question, and appeared to have been giving Li an
exhaustive discourse on the nature of sunshine. However, the summary of
the discourse was that under the old Imperial regime things were fixed,
and you could count upon them—but under a Republic you could be sure of
nothing!




_Chapter IV_

_The Province of Kweichow_

    “Methinks there’s a genius
    Roams in the mountains.
    ...
    But dark is the forest
    Where now is my dwelling,
    Never the light of day
    Reaches its shadow.
    Thither a perilous
    Pathway meanders.
    Lonely I stand
    On the lonelier hill-top,
    Cloudland beneath me
    And cloudland around me.
    Softly the wind bloweth,
    Softly the rain falls,
    Joy like a mist blots
    The thoughts of my home out.”

            —(Ch’ü Yüan: Fourth Century B.C.)
            Translated by Cranmer Byng.


_Chapter IV_

_The Province of Kweichow_

[Illustration: A HAYSTACK.]

Not only is there a gateway leading out of Yünnan, but also one of a
quite different character leading into Kweichow, and situated at the
other end of the little frontier village. It is a solid stone gateway in
a stone wall. We passed along a short bit of level street at a height of
6,200 feet before we came to the wall, and then we plunged down a steep
rocky path, with a wonderful view of deep valleys surrounded by abrupt
and jagged mountains.

We found that day seven new varieties of roses, all very sweet-scented,
also rhododendrons, azaleas and irises. At our halting-place for the
night (5,300 feet) we climbed a little hill crowned with a Buddhist
temple, and looked down on trees, which formed a floor of delicate
white blossom as light as snowflakes, trees quite unknown to me, and no
one there seemed able to give us even a Chinese name for them. It is
very difficult to get information, and we had not the time for making
collections.

I tried to learn about them when I came home, and found that there is
in existence a large folio of manuscript of descriptions and specimens
of plants collected by French fathers in this province; but as no one
visits Kweichow there was no demand for such a work, and there is no
hope of it being published. The collection is at the Edinburgh Botanical
Gardens. It was the same with other things: the mountains often had the
strangest forms, and I made careful drawings of their outlines. Photos
were usually out of the question, as the mountains were too close; they
rose up like walls all round us, and the light was always in the wrong
quarter. On my return home I went cheerfully to learned societies with
confident hope of slaking my thirst for knowledge, but alas! No books on
_such_ an unknown part, the very name of course unknown. When my drawings
had been duly inspected, the remark made was, “I must compliment you on
your sketches, I have never seen mountains like that!” Was there a touch
of irony in the remark?

Truly Kweichow is a wonderful country and beautiful in the extreme, as
the late Dr. Morrison (adviser to the Chinese Government) told me when I
went to get his advice before starting. “You could not have chosen a more
interesting part to travel in,” he said, “nor a more beautiful one”; and
he had travelled in almost every part of China. It is full of different
aboriginal races of whom very little is known, its flora is remarkably
rich and varied, and its geology a continual surprise.

The second day across the border we crossed a small plain from which
rise a series of round low mounds, like pudding-basins, from the flat
ricefields—an extraordinary contrast to the lofty, jagged mountains from
which we had just descended. In the midst of it all was a curious tumbled
heap of lava-like appearance, looking as if it had been ejected from the
earth by some colossal earthworms. Sir Alexander Hosie says[21] that
there is a parallel row of these mounds about ten miles to the south:
they run east and west. In the ricefields I saw a brilliant kingfisher,
hanging poised in mid-air in search of prey, while a heron stalked away
at our approach.

The rain grew more and more persistent, and the roads were muddy and
slippery to the last degree. Even the sure-footed Chinese kept tumbling
down, and it was almost less trying to walk than to be bumped down in our
chairs. As we advanced into the province the culture of the opium poppy
(papaver somniferum) increased till it was as much as ninety-nine per
cent. of the crops, and the appearance of the inhabitants showed only
too plainly its disastrous effects. In some of the villages the children
were naked, although it was still cold weather, being only the beginning
of April. In the markets the goods were of the meanest and cheapest
description, and the people looked abject. They rushed out to beg from
us. The main industry of the district was evidently the making of coal
balls. The coal lies actually on the surface, and has only to be scraped
together, mixed with a little earth and water, and then dried: it burns
quite well. Some of the coal is used for fertilizing the ground, being
reduced to ash by being burnt in pits with stones piled on it. Lime also
is used for the poppy fields. Sometimes the coal holes by the wayside
are a couple of yards in diameter. The coir palm is to be seen in every
village, and loquats and walnut trees are cultivated for their fruit.

We struggled along through a thick mist one day, and one after another
went down like ninepins on the slippery path. One of my bearers cut his
ankle, and was thankful for the doctor’s attentions. Suddenly I heard an
ominous roaring sound, and looked in vain for the cause. It proved to be
produced by a big stream, which disappeared into a hole in the earth;
this appears to be quite a common phenomenon, and later on we saw one
bubble out of the ground in the same strange fashion.

Another shape of hill attracted my attention, and as I tried to reproduce
it accurately on paper it became obvious that this was one of the Chinese
mountain forms with which one has been familiar from childhood in their
pictures, and which one had supposed to be a work of imagination. As
they always hold in their canons of art that “form” is quite subsidiary
to “spirit,” I imagined that it was not inability to imitate form
accurately, but a deliberate intention of ignoring it in order to
express some more important truth that was the cause of their drawing,
what seemed to me, such unnatural mountains. But here one discovered
that these forms _are_ natural in China, and it is after all only our
ignorance that makes us so misjudge them.

There were hedges by the roadside all bursting into leaf and blossom, and
I never saw such a wealth of ferns of many kinds. There was material for
a whole volume on ferns alone. Lofty trees of catalpa bungei with their
purple blossom, and Boehmeria nivea grew by the roadside, and rhea grass
in the village gardens.

We generally started the day in a damp mist, and were happy when it
cleared away, even though there was no sunshine. We scanned the hedges
for roses, and felt quite aggrieved if we failed to find fresh varieties
every single day. A lovely blush rose filled us with delight, but pink
moss-roses were only seen on one occasion. We decided that nowhere else
could a greater variety of roses be found: we counted twenty-three
varieties before we left the province, and felt sure we should have found
many more had we stayed longer, for they were hardly in full bloom by the
end of April. One day I picked up a broken branch on the road, thrown
away by some passer-by no doubt because it had no blossoms on it, but
the bright green leaves were a lovely violet on the under side, and I
searched in vain to find a bush of it growing, in order to see what the
flowers were like.

Then, too, the birds were reminiscent of home—magpies, larks,
woodpeckers, wagtails, and even the aggravating cuckoo. But there was
one elusive little fellow, known to all dwellers in Kweichow, though
no one could tell me his name: he had a long shrill note with a short
tut-tut-tut at the end. We both watched for him daily, as he seemed to
haunt our path continually, but never could we catch a sight of him, so
dexterously did he hide himself. Occasionally we thought we saw him, but
it was so momentary a glimpse that we were never sure; the bird we saw
looked about the size and shape and colour of a linnet.

The fourth day in Kweichow we came to a splendid three-arch bridge
in a fertile valley, and spent the night in a very different village
from most—Kuan Tzu Yao. A number of fine new houses were in course of
construction, built largely of stone; amongst others, a post office next
door to our inn. The postal system in China is really wonderful, even
in this backward province, and we had a most charming surprise at the
first post town we entered. Our interpreter went to the post office,
and was surprised at being asked if he were travelling with English
ladies. On admitting this, he was asked to inform us that if we were in
need of money we could draw as much as was necessary at any office we
came to, by order of the postal commissioner at Kwei Yang. The reason
for this delightful arrangement was that the English Commissioner at
Taiyuanfu, whose advice we had asked about transmitting money, said he
would write to his Chinese colleague and ask him to help us if we got
into difficulties, because of the prevalent highway robberies. This
gentleman was ill at the time the letter reached him, but he telegraphed
to Taiyuanfu as soon as he was fit, that he would do what he could—and
this was his splendid way of meeting the difficulty. No finer testimony
could be wanted of the way the Chinese trust our people.

The postal system is a fine piece of organization: it reaches to the
utmost bounds of the empire, and although the mails are mainly carried
by runners on foot, they travel very rapidly. The stages are not long,
and there is no delay when the bags are handed from one runner to the
next. For instance, we were told that on this particular road, what we
did in seventeen days the mails would do in four, and we did an average
of eighteen miles a day. We had postal maps given us of the provinces we
were going to visit. On them are marked all the postal stations, with
the distances from one to another; the line of route; the various grades
of offices; the limit of the district; daily or bi-daily day and night
service; daily, bi-daily or tri-daily service; less frequent ones; postal
connexion by boat; telegraphic connexion; rural box offices, etc. The
names of the main towns are in both Chinese and English, the others only
in Chinese. On the whole, letters travel wonderfully safely. The old
postal system was quite hopeless, and in the interior the missionaries
used to organize their own. Even Peking used to be closed to the rest
of the world yearly for several months. I remember six months when we
had no letters from my sister in Shansi, due to a misunderstanding at a
transmitting station, and there was no telegraphic communication in those
days. Now the old Chinese system has practically died out.

We had another proof of the thoughtfulness of the Chinese commissioner
later. Having heard from one of the missionaries that we were going
into the Miao country before coming to the capital, he sent up all our
letters, a tremendous boon after being weeks without any. The postal
service is under international control, having been originated in 1896
and built up by Sir Robert Hart in connexion with the customs: in each
province there is a commissioner; nearly all are Europeans.

As we got further into the province the vegetation grew more and more
luxuriant. The banks were carpeted with lycopodium and primula and the
hedges were full of roses, white and yellow jasmine, hawthorn, clematis
montana, Akebia lobata—a very curious creeper with wine-coloured blossom,
both male and female. The brilliant yellow-blossomed cassia forms a
most impenetrable hedge, with upstanding thorns, like nails, all along
its tough stems. We tied water jars into our chairs, so as to keep
the flowers fresh, and by the end of the day the chairs were perfect
bowers, our men vying with one another to get us the choicest blossoms.
Perhaps the most beautiful of any was the large white, sweet-scented
rhododendron, the Hymenocallis. This is rare; we only found it once.

The scenery was very grand; long ranges of jagged mountains and
precipitous cliffs, but the road was not in the least dangerous from
that point of view. It was extremely slippery and a heavy mist lay over
everything in the early hours of most days: our men kept tumbling down.
The only one who seemed always steady was Yao, and he constituted himself
my guardian on slippery days, holding my elbow with a relentless grip,
which certainly prevented my tumbling down and gave me confidence.

At Kuan Tzu Yao we found a nice clean new inn, courtyard behind
courtyard, and each raised a step or two above the last: ours was the
innermost, and we felt unusually secluded. The next night our immediate
neighbours were two fine water buffaloes with their calves. They are
the most valuable domestic animals throughout this country, as they
plough the ricefields quite happily when they are under water. These two
were taken out to work in the early morning, and we were amused to see
a little tatterdemalion bringing them back in a perfect fury to fetch
their calves, which had been left in the shed. The buffaloes seem to be
generally left in the care of boys, who manage them with much skill, and
love to disport themselves on their broad backs, often lying negligently
at ease along them, looking as much at home as if they were an integral
part of the creature. They are sluggish animals, coming originally from
the Philippines.

Leaving Tu Tien our men seemed possessed of a sudden energy, and went at
a great rate, doing nearly seven miles in two hours. Sometimes we thought
we were lacking in humanity to give them such heavy loads; but then again
our scruples seemed foolish in the light of certain experiences. For
instance, one man carried two heavy suit-cases and a chair, another two
large carved window-frames and a bed, but it didn’t prevent them taking
a steep bank at a run, or having a race at the end of a thirty-mile
stage to see who would be in first. The Chinese coolie is really an
amusing creature, and even if he is clad in rags he finds life a cheerful
business. I used to try and count the patches on the coat of one of my
coolies, and never made them less than forty-six between the neck and
waistband, not including those on the sleeves!

Then the incidents of travel have a humorous side, even on a wet day in
a dangerous neighbourhood. Instead of having our light midday meal as
usual by the roadside near the village, where the men get theirs, one is
obliged to have it in the chairs, placed side by side in the main street
of a busy town. Our escort draws an imaginary cordon round us, and no one
dares approach within two yards as long as they mount guard. It was a
thrilling sight for the assembled crowd to watch the barbarians wielding
knives and forks, instead of the dear, familiar chopsticks. I must say
they behaved beautifully.

When I sat down to sketch a lovely river scene outside a village gateway,
though many came to look on they did not jostle. These entrance gates
are often quite imposing and of infinite variety. Just inside was a fine
litter of pigs, with a most important-looking sow, and it was amusing to
watch their antics. On a doorstep, extended at full length lay a large
hairy black pig. Its face wore a beatific expression, with half-closed
eyes of rapt enjoyment, while a woman vigorously groomed it with her
brush.

The mountains of Kweichow give shelter to many wild animals, and even
tigers, as well as leopards, are to be found, which cause great havoc in
some of the villages. One story we heard throws an interesting light on
the way the natives look at them. A tiger had been doing so much damage
that the peasantry determined to have a battue, having tracked it to a
certain hill, from which they thought it would be impossible for it to
escape. They formed a cordon round the hill and gradually drove it to
the top. The tiger, in search of refuge, looked into a shrine, and its
pursuers saw this: they exclaimed, “It is certainly the God of the Hill”;
so they turned tail and fled. Naturally, the tiger seeing this took
the opportunity of attacking them in the rear, and several were badly
mauled.[22]

Some of the mountains are very barren, others wonderfully cultivated,
on terraces right up to the very top, and in rocky hollows only about a
foot in diameter, with a mere handful of soil in them. How the scanty
population can do such a vast amount of cultivation was a mystery we
could never solve. One day we started from an altitude of eighteen
hundred feet and climbed over a pass of forty-eight hundred, whence
there was a wonderful panoramic view; our road could be seen for many
miles, winding along the mountainside above a narrow valley; then diving
down into it and up the opposite side. Our men said the last part of
that day’s march, ten li (three miles), would be on the level, which
sounded pleasant news. In point of fact we dropped nine hundred feet. A
fine entrance gate led into Lang Tai Fung. Just outside the wall were
the ruins of an old temple with a handsome stone carved bridge in front
of it, enclosed within a wall. The inn was a good one, and the weather
having suddenly turned cold we were glad of a brazier. The town seemed
much more prosperous than most. There were large cotton looms, where
weaving was going on in the open air, as well as in a disused temple.
Handsome carved window-frames delighted me so much that I determined to
have some made for the women’s institute at Taiyuanfu. They were about a
yard square in size with a good deal of carving, so the sum named (twenty
dollars including carriage to Anshun, about fifty-five miles distant)
did not seem excessive! It took us three days to get to Anshun, and the
windows arrived within the fortnight stipulated. We picked them up later,
and they formed rather a large item of our luggage, requiring an extra
coolie.

As we neared Anshun the road was less mountainous and the villages better
built. Many of the houses are of grey stone, some built with mortar, some
without. There was a fine waterfall, a hundred and sixty feet in depth,
into the Rhinoceros Pool, near the town of Chen Lun, and above it a
five-span bridge of noble proportions. A busy market was going on in the
town; and a funeral, with the usual paper horses and servants for burning
at the grave, formed an additional interest to the gay crowd. There were
a number of picturesque tribeswomen, looking as usual very sulky, and not
mixing with the Chinese. From afar we saw the lofty turrets of a Roman
Catholic Church, so we went to see what it was like. The architecture and
fittings were entirely Western, and we had no sooner entered the church
than the fine-looking old French priest came forward and greeted us. He
invited us into his room and we had an interesting, long talk. He had
been thirty-two years in China, but only two in this district, and seemed
very discouraged. I asked about the numbers of converts, and he said
there were about sixteen hundred, but added dejectedly that they were
not at all satisfactory. How hard it must be to go on working under such
circumstances, and with no hope of return to his own country.

    “Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve,
    And hope without an object cannot live.”

Generally missionaries seem a wonderfully hopeful set of people, even
under very adverse circumstances, and we came to a most cheerful group
at Anshunfu, where we had a few days of welcome rest in their hospitable
house.

Anshun is a very pretty town, with its shady trees, its winding waterways
and handsome stone balustrades along them. On a picturesque bridge were
shrines, which made a subject to delight an artist’s eye: indeed it was
a continual trial to me to have so little time for drawing when there
was such a wealth of material. Facing the house where we stayed was a
temple transformed into a government school, and it had an ornamental
wall such as I had not seen elsewhere. There were panels at intervals,
about three and a half feet from the ground, of various sizes, with
open stucco work, looking like designs from Æsop’s fables. They lent
a great charm to the garden, in which the wall seemed to be only of
decorative value. Throughout China the human figure and animals are
used in all sorts of architectural ways which would never occur to us.
Anshun is situated in a small plain, and a fine road leads to it with
pailous (memorial arches) at intervals. We walked across the fields one
day and climbed a neighbouring hill, surmounted by the usual temple;
from it there was a magnificent view of all the country round. A lurid
thunderstorm heightened the effect. There were oleanders in full bloom in
the courtyard, and the priests were polite and friendly, bringing tea to
us, while we waited for the storm to clear away.

[Illustration:

    “Lonely I stand
    On the loneliest hill top.”

_Page 98_]

There is a hospital at Anshun built by the Arthington Fund, but as there
is only one doctor attached to it, and he was away on furlough, the place
was closed. As it is the only hospital for hundreds of miles, indeed
there is only one other hospital in the province, for 11,300,000 people,
this seemed a dreadful pity. The coming of my doctor was quite an event,
especially for a lady who badly needed her advice. In the whole province
there are only these two European hospitals, as far as I heard, and no
Chinese ones.

We made Anshunfu our starting-point for a trip into the unfrequented
mountains, where aboriginal tribes are to be found in great numbers.
No census can be taken of them, and it is only by years of unremitting
toil, in the face of continual danger, that missionaries have succeeded
in making friends with them. Mr. Slichter, of the C.I.M., was our guide,
and as soon as we left the city we struck up a pathway into the hills
to the north of it. After several hours’ travelling we came to a river,
which until recent years was the boundary, beyond which no foreigner was
allowed to go because of the acute hostility felt by the tribes-people
against all strangers. It was a rapid, swirling river, lying in a deep
narrow gorge, and we were ferried across.

We climbed up a long hot ascent on the further side, and reached a
Keh-lao village,[23] where a fair was going on. The contrast was
extraordinary, quite as great as if we had gone from one European country
into another. It was only with difficulty, and because he was known,
that Mr. Slichter could persuade some one to boil water for us, and
then it was only very little, whereas in any Chinese village you could
get as much as you wanted. We spent about twelve hours reaching our
destination—a village perched up on a steep hill-side. Seeing us from
afar, a laughing group of Miao boys and girls came running down the path
to greet us, looking a most picturesque group in their red, white and
blue clothes.

In another chapter I shall try and give a detailed account of these
people, so will for the present only say a little about the country. From
the top of the crag on which the village of Ten-ten is situated there may
be counted fourteen ranges stretching away into the far distance, and in
such hollows as are practicable for agriculture, wheat, poppy, rice and
hemp are grown. There are most curious trees, which we saw for the first
time, called Rhus vernicifera, from which varnish is obtained. They are
plentiful in the district, and itinerant tappers come round from time to
time to hire their services to the owners, for the varnish is a valuable
crop, but must be carefully handled. It is most poisonous, and people
even lose their lives by handling it carelessly. We found Mrs. Slichter
at Ten-ten; she had been seriously ill as the result of using a branch
of the tree for a walking-stick. The varnish causes terrible pains in
the head, loss of sight for several days, and an eruption of the hands
rendering them useless for a time.

The first Miao church was built at Ten-ten, and would hardly be
recognized as such, I fear, by the orthodox: it looked like a cross
between a goods shed and a hall, with a ladder at each end leading to
a couple of rooms to accommodate visitors. The only clerical detail
was a pulpit, but close beside it was a cooking-stove, and in vain I
protested that our meals were not to be prepared while service was
going on. The people seemed to find it quite natural, and when Yao was
not too concerned in his cooking he lent an interested ear to what was
being said. One thing was clear, and that was that the congregation was
thoroughly in earnest, and gave undivided attention to the service. It
meant so much to them and especially to the women, who took part in the
prayer-meeting quite simply and fervently. On the Sunday morning we were
about one hundred people, who attended a baptismal service, which was
performed in a dammed-up stream in the ricefields. It was extraordinarily
picturesque to see the Miao in their short full-kilted skirts, trooping
down the zigzag path to the spot, where twenty-five received baptism.
They have names given them, as many, if not most of them, have none.

After spending a few days at Ten-ten we continued our journey northwards,
but were somewhat tried by the difficulty of getting any guide. One of
the tribes-people took us a certain distance across the mountains, but
the path was not only steep and rough, but the lanes were so narrow
and thorny that we thought our chairs would be torn to pieces, and our
clothes to ribbons: the thorns and brambles overhanging the path made it
difficult to get the chairs along. We found it decidedly preferable to
walk, and enjoyed the glorious scenery up hill and down dale, the air
laden with the scent of roses and sweetbrier, and the hill-sides carpeted
with mauve-coloured orchids and primulas.

We soon lost our way, and there was no one to be seen in all the wide
landscape to set us right. We wandered on for hours till we came to a
tiny hamlet, where we found a pottery in full swing. With much persuasion
and the promise of a good tip, we barely succeeded in coaxing a boy to
show us the way to the village of I-mei, where we proposed spending
the night. We set off again in more cheerful mood, but alas! for our
hopes: after about two hours the lad admitted that he didn’t know the
way. We wandered on down a tiny valley, watered by a charming stream,
where countless wagtails and other little birds beguiled us by their
chatter. As we emerged from the valley into some fields the lad suggested
this must be I-mei, but when we asked some women at work in the fields
they said “Oh no! it is far away.” They went on to tell us that if
we succeeded in reaching it that night, we should probably find no
accommodation. There was a comfortable-looking farm-house within sight,
and they thought we might get put up there, so we sent to inquire. They
were friendly folk, who were willing to vacate a room for us and to lodge
the rest of the party somewhere; so we were quite pleased to have this
new experience. I had never slept in a Chinese farm-house before, and in
point of fact we did not get a great deal of sleep, as the partitions
were thin and there was plenty of animal life, both large and small,
to share the building, all living on the most intimate terms with the
owners. A cat was very put out about it, and hurried to and fro in our
room in the middle of the night. We tried to shoo her away, and then
heard a reproachful voice from the other side of the partition calling
gently “Mimi, Mimi!” upon which the pussy-cat quickly sidled away to her
master.

Next day we were up betimes, and our host said his white-haired brother
would act as our guide. These two old gentlemen still wore attenuated
queues, almost the only ones we saw on the journey. We found the whole
family kind and interested in their visitors. I feel sure no other
Europeans had ever visited the little valley. We gave the lady a piece
of soap, evidently quite a novelty to her: it seems strange to have to
explain the use of such a thing. But this province has curious natural
resources in the way of soap. One tree, the Sapindus mukorossi, has round
fruit, which have only to be shaken in water to make it quite soapy, and
the pods of the Gleditschia sinensis are to be found for sale in most
of the markets: they are used in washing clothes. European firms have
started the soap industry in China, and there is certainly a good opening
for the trade.

We had a long climb up a lovely mountain pass, well named in Chinese
“Climbing to the Heavens,” and came across magnolia and other delicious
shrubs. After a stage of about fourteen miles we reached the town of
Pingüan, and stayed there till next day, as it was such a pleasant,
clean-looking place. Our room had varnished walls—quite a novelty—and
small panes of glass among the paper ones. We had a larger crowd of
interested spectators than usual, but at intervals Yao came out like a
whirlwind and scattered the chaff. Our hostess brought us a bunch of
camellias and peonies as an excuse for consulting the doctor about her
cough!

We left Pingüan early next morning, and facing the gateway by which
we went out was a typical bit of landscape—in the foreground a bridge
leading to a little poppy-covered plain, out of the centre of which rose
a steep rock crowned with a pagoda and a temple. At the foot of the rock
were several shrines. It seemed impossible for the Chinese to miss making
use of any such natural feature of the landscape for a religious purpose
in past days; though now the shrines are so neglected, except under the
stress of plague, famine or rapine, which incites the worshippers to
devotion. The crops in this district were entirely opium poppy.

At our next halting-place, Ch’a-tien, we had to put up with miserable
quarters: our tiny room looked on to the street, so that we had a large
and interested audience all the time; they lined up on the window-sill
across the road, a good point of vantage, while the small fry discovered
quite a unique point of observation. There was a hiatus at the bottom of
the woodwork of the wall about a yard long and six inches deep, so by
lying with their faces flat on the ground and close to the opening they
could get a fair view of our doings. The row of bright eyes and gleaming
teeth was quite uncanny. Our thermometer registered 66°, so we felt it
rather stuffy with every breath of air excluded.

During the day we had passed most attractive newly-built houses in lath
and plaster. They had small oval windows in the gable ends with simple
but effective designs in them. The contrast was very striking with
the other villages in this district, where the inhabitants wore the
filthiest-looking rags I have ever seen, and had a most degraded look.

At the entrance to every village is at least one little shrine, which
generally has a god and goddess sitting side by side in it; but in this
neighbourhood we noticed a good many shrines without images. They had
inscriptions instead, such as “The only true God, from ancient to present
times.” They looked very neglected as a rule, and hardly ever did we see
a newly-erected one.

Our next inn at Ch’a Tsang had a highly decorated wall about eighteen
feet high, facing the chief guest-rooms. There was a large parti-coloured
mosaic made out of broken crockery at the top, below which were two hares
rampant in stucco, supporting a shield between them; they were flanked
by ornamental plants in pots. It was interesting to find so elaborate a
decoration in so humble an inn, but that is one of the charming surprises
on the road, even in the by-ways of China.

Ta-ting was our next important stopping-place, as word had been sent to
the mission there, requesting them to summon as many tribes-people as
possible to meet us. It is the centre of work among them, and there is a
flourishing boys’ school and also a training school for evangelists. The
whole school had turned out in our honour, and made a gay show on the
hill-side, waving boughs of crimson rhododendrons, which contrasted with
their bright blue gowns. They had come by a winding road two or three
miles outside the city wall, headed by one of the ladies on horseback:
the welcome was as picturesque as it was cordial, and they had learned an
English greeting for us, which they gave in great style, as soon as we
got out of our chairs. Then they turned back, and we brought up the rear
of their procession in single file, passing through a fine gateway before
we reached the entrance to the city.

Ta-ting is a Chinese town, although it is in the centre of a district
full of tribes-people, with whom they have always been in conflict. A
mission station was opened there many years ago especially for work
amongst the aborigines, and at the present time is manned by four German
ladies, of whom two were on furlough at the time of our visit. When the
order came from the Chinese Government that all Germans were to leave
the country, as China was joining the Allies, the magistrate of Ta-ting
begged that these ladies be allowed to remain, as there had been so
much less trouble with the tribesmen since they had come under their
influence. This request was granted, and I take this opportunity of
stating my firm conviction that the direct result of mission work is to
bring these warring races into friendly relations with one another and
with the Chinese. The Chinese despise them on account of their illiteracy
and low morality, and both these objections are changed by Christian
teaching.

We spent a few days very happily at Ta-ting, but it was long enough to
see how isolated a life the missionaries must lead, and under most trying
climatic conditions. The city lies in a hollow surrounded by mountains at
an altitude of 5,100 feet, continually shrouded in mist. The sun is only
visible one day in four all the year round, and then perhaps only for a
few minutes. We did not see the complete outline of the mountains while
we were there, and we were constantly reminded of Scotch mists, rolling
up for a few moments and then obliterating everything again. This was the
only place where we heard so dismal a report of the weather.

Some Chinese ladies came to call on us and brought us charming
embroidered spectacle-cases and puffed rice as gifts, but practically all
our time was devoted to studying the aborigines and hearing about them.
They were extraordinarily friendly, and one old hunch-back, who came
from a village more than thirty miles away, had brought two fine fowls
as gifts to the ladies and ourselves. I presented her with a woollen
jacket, as the people suffer much from the cold, and when she next came
to service on a broiling August day she was still wearing it with great
pride!

I should like to have spent months making studies of these people,
and tried in vain to make notes of all the details possible of such
interesting and various types; but the people were anxious to get back
to their homes, and after one day spent almost continuously in meetings
and classes, the gathering broke up. It was a great thing to be able
to study them at such close quarters, and to find them willing to be
sketched and photographed. About two hundred and fifty were present, so
that one could get a good idea of the various tribes.

We left Ta-ting by the same gate as we entered it, and followed our
former route for about fifteen miles. By dint of making rather long
stages we reached Kwei Yang, the capital, on the fifth day, instead
of the usual time, the sixth day. While on the journey we passed some
pleasant-looking homesteads, which no doubt belonged to wealthy Chinese,
as we heard that it was not at all unusual for people living in towns to
have country houses as well. Later on I visited two such country houses
near Swatow, and was much impressed by their air of refinement, not
to mention the beautiful works of art with which they were decorated.
Country life appeals strongly to the Chinese. While on this part of the
journey we came to a fine five-span bridge with a gateway at each end
and decorative carved stonework balustrades, but alas! it was in so
ruinous a condition that it probably no longer exists. It is one of the
most disappointing things in China that nothing architectural is kept in
repair; yet the Chinese are such past masters in the art of restoration
when forced to do it for reasons of safety or economy!

The roads were worse than ever, and incredibly slippery and muddy. On
the outskirts of Lan-ni-Kou, which we reached on the second day, we saw
people busily engaged picking nettles, their hands protected by thick
gloves. We were glad to find an unusually good inn there, where we got a
brazier and were able to dry our sopping clothes. We had walked a good
deal in pelting rain, for the stage was long and arduous, up and down
precipitous hills: we did sixty miles in two days. On the third we had
to descend the face of a cliff by a steep stone staircase covered with
slippery mud. There were long strings of pack animals heavily laden,
and they jolted down in front of us, sliding and slithering in a most
precarious way. The scene was magnificent—masses of roses hanging in
long festoons from the rocks, and the narrow verdant plain far below,
with the shining river, Ya-chih-ho, flowing through it. We did not reach
it without several tumbles, and found a custom station on the bank,
where a lot of mail-bags were waiting to be ferried across. There was a
motto over the custom house urging every one to advance the trade of the
country. The valley was full of flowering trees; catalpa, orange, azalea,
iris, all added to the wealth of scent and colour. The little village on
the further side of the river had particularly attractive gardens with
hedges of spindle cactus, but the rain still poured down, and it was a
weary climb for the next two hours.

[Illustration: Robbers’ Haunts.

_Page 108_]

Compensation awaited us, however, at Wei Shang, in the form of a really
clean inn, where our room was like a glass case, the whole of one
side being glazed, and a few panes missing, which afforded necessary
ventilation. There was a slight lack of privacy, but we were in an inner
courtyard and could manage to rig up some shelter from the public gaze.

As we neared the capital, things looked more prosperous, and the amount
of opium-poppy cultivation decreased. The road was decidedly better and
the weather improved. The immediate approach to the city is decorated
with no less than twenty-seven memorial arches, many of which are put
up to the memory of good mothers and widows. Kwei Yang is a city of a
hundred thousand people, and most attractive both in its surroundings and
in itself. We enjoyed the hospitality of the only missionaries in the
station, Mr. and Mrs. Pike (Australians), of the China Inland Mission. No
one realizes how delightful such hospitality is unless they have had an
equally arduous journey—to find bright airy rooms, with little intimate
touches to welcome you, preparations for a hot bath, freshly-made
cakes, all the kindly thought above all, to make you happy and at home:
this is an experience of infinite charm, and practically universal in
missionary circles. It has often been taken advantage of by unsympathetic
travellers, and yet happily it persists.

We were presently asked to say what our plans were, and what places we
wished to visit in the neighbourhood, that everything might be arranged;
and indeed everything was beautifully arranged for us in a way that could
not have been done without help. Mr. Li was dispatched with our cards
and a letter of thanks to Mr. Liu, the Postal Commissioner, who had so
befriended us (_see_ page 91). He proved to be a friend and supporter
of the mission, and came to call on us—a man speaking excellent English
who has been Commissioner for twenty-three years. He lives in English
style, which, by the way, is much cheaper than Chinese. Unfortunately
his wife was ill, so we could not call on her; but we made friends with
her sister, a lady doctor who had come the long journey from Fukien
to give her medical assistance. We saw her several times; she played
the harmonium for the Sunday service in church, and in the afternoon
she and her brother-in-law joined us in an excursion to the top of a
hill overlooking the town, which was crowned with the usual Buddhist
monastery. The view was superb: below we saw thousands of graves, taking
up the whole ground-space of the hill-side. Mr. Liu told us he and a
friend had once carefully examined a great number of the tombstones, but
found none dating back more than eighty years. It seemed a pity that so
much valuable land should be taken up by the dead so close to the city.
As we walked back in the lovely evening light, kite-flying was in full
swing and crowds were taking the air.

Another thing to be done was to arrange for our further journey, and Mr.
Pike got a personal interview for our interpreter with the Governor, to
whose yamen he has the _entrée_. The Governor is of the old school—does
not encourage progress. When Sir John Jordan telegraphed to inquire about
the opium cultivation, he replied evasively, “With me there is none”; but
it is a question whether that would be accurate, even if applied only
to the yamen! Mr. Liu told us that one official made $50,000 on it last
year, and whereas the price of opium two years ago was six dollars per
ounce, it has fallen to forty cents and will probably fall much lower
owing to the bumper harvest now being reaped. The Governor agreed that
we might proceed to Chen Yüen, but absolutely refused to allow us to go
off the main road to visit the district where the black Miao live. Mr.
Liu had already told us that his postal runners had been robbed less than
a fortnight before, and two hundred bags of silk had nearly been captured
from them. His escort of twenty men had been attacked by six hundred
robbers, it was said, but they put up a plucky fight and reinforcements
arrived in time to save the situation. The Governor said we must have
an escort of thirty men, and promised they should be ready to start on
Monday morning—this being Saturday.

We visited a remarkable Buddhist monastery, a little distance outside the
city, where the bodies of deceased monks are always cremated. This is
a most unusual practice, and there is a stone crematorium just outside
the temple precincts, near to a paved cemetery. Here are handsome stone
tombs of varying importance, in which the ashes are placed. We saw a
monk going the round of these tombs, burning incense before each one
and genuflecting with great apparent earnestness. Sometimes it was done
twice, sometimes three times, according, no doubt, to the importance
of the dead man; we were informed that this takes place always twice a
day. The monastery was most beautifully situated amongst the trees on a
hill-side. There are now eight sects of Buddhists in China, and probably
cremation of monks is peculiar to one of them.

It was with regret that we left Kwei Yang, for evidently the shops were
worth visiting, and we got some silk which was quite different in design
and colouring from any we had seen elsewhere. Beautiful silk covers are
made here for bedding, and the province is noted for its “wild” silk.
In leaving the city we passed through streets full of embroidery shops;
other trades were to be seen, each in their own locality, and we longed
for time to make fuller acquaintance with this most attractive city.
As we crossed one handsome bridge we saw another with nine arches and
a prolongation across a road where the archway was much finer. There
are large tanneries on the outskirts and an agricultural college, whose
activities we saw in plantations further along the road. As Kweichow is
particularly rich in different kinds of trees, this ought to be a most
useful institution. There are many beautiful pine trees, especially
the Cunninghamia; Liquidambar formosano (from which the tea chests are
made); the Rhus vernicifera (already mentioned); the Boehmeria nivea
(of which grass cloth is made, which is so universally used in China
for hot-weather clothes and which is now largely imported to Europe
and America in the shape of embroidered tablecloths and d’oyleys); the
Gleditschia sinensis (the soap tree); Sapium sebiferum (the vegetable
tallow tree); the Aleurites Fordii (wood-oil tree); the Sapindus
mukorossi (paper mulberry); the Broussonetia; the Agle sepiaria, a kind
of orange tree, with curious divided leaf, and many others.

We set off from Kwei Yang accompanied by thirty armed soldiers (some
of those we had previously with us were not armed, and few had any
ammunition even when they carried rifles) and three policemen under the
command of a Captain, who certainly was a pattern of inefficiency and
slovenliness. His dress was in keeping with this: he wore white puttees,
always dirty and generally wreathed loosely round his fat calves. When it
rained he wore a long macintosh, which had to be held up like a lady’s
skirt in the old days. He kept no discipline, and when we neared the
most dangerous part of the road he travelled in a chair, so as to be
thoroughly rested before a possible attack! The men carried with them a
banner with which they go into battle, and had a little military flag,
which was always set up outside the inns where we halted. These soldiers
were a noisy, cheerful crew, and rather spoilt the comfort of the
journey, but probably saved us from having our belongings looted, if from
nothing worse.

The discipline of our escort left much to be desired, and they prepared
for the expected fray with the brigands by constant brushes between
themselves! Having a doctor in the party must have seemed quite a
fortunate thing to them. One evening Li asked her to put a few stitches
in a soldier’s cut head; next came one with a sore arm by too heavy use
of a stick on it. I drew the line at this, and forbade any more such
cases to be brought to the doctor, remarking that next they would ask
to be cured of stomach ache! In point of fact, this happened the very
next morning, and our burst of laughter discouraged them from further
requests for medical attendance. We heard more and more gruesome stories
as we proceeded, and I found it difficult to decide whether the fear
expressed was simulated or real. The soldiers begged for a pork feast at
a point of great danger (?) to give them the necessary courage. As it
was important to keep them in good temper with ourselves, I agreed; and
great preparations went on that evening. Some chickens instead of pork
having been procured at the market, the whole inn yard seemed full of
flying feathers. The result was a thoroughly chicken-hearted crew next
day: that is, I feel sure, in accordance with proper Chinese theory! One
of the men applied to M. for treatment of a sore foot, and as it appeared
probable that the swelling on the sole would develop into an abscess, she
ordered him to remain behind. He appeared very disappointed and said that
he had come determined to fight, even if it cost him his life. One of the
soldiers, we were told, was of the utmost bravery and equal to fighting
ten robbers. We were informed later on that two men had been killed on
the road just after we had passed, but I had a shrewd suspicion that all
these stories were told to enhance the value of the escort when it came
to giving the _pourboire_ at the end of the journey.

One most unpleasant thing happened which might well have proved a much
more serious affair. The men were very careless in their behaviour when
they thought there was no immediate danger, and straggled along the
road at irregular distances, a fact which pleased us, as we were not so
annoyed by their ceaseless chatter. They would hand their rifles to one
another (they were never loaded), and often one man would carry three.
Yao, our admirable cook, being a willing fellow, was carrying a rifle
nearly all day. He continued to do so when he went ahead at midday, as he
always did, to secure our rooms at the halting-place for the night. When
we were entering the town, the Captain, who had preceded us, turned back
and told us not to go any further, as he was going to the yamen to see
about quarters and that all the inns were full. Li saw that something was
the matter, but we decided to go on and see for ourselves. Soon we found
Yao sitting weeping on a doorstep and our luggage scattered along the
main street. He blurted out somewhat incoherently that he had been set
upon by the soldiery of the place, because he was carrying a rifle, and
accused of being a robber. In vain he asserted that he was the servant
of foreigners, who were with a military escort; they beat him and kicked
him. Yao reported further that our escort had taken all the rooms in the
inn for themselves. We made our way there and found his story correct,
and that they had left a dark little room for our use. I felt that it
would never do to give in to this, and showed my indignation plainly:
but as the officer was not present it was rather difficult to see what
was the best plan of procedure. To leave the inn might have given them
an excuse for saying they had been relieved of responsibility. I said we
would look at the upper rooms, which are only used as storerooms, and
happily we found a nice large loft which only needed sweeping out. We
said the soldiers were to bring our things up the rickety ladder, for Yao
was still in a collapsed state, and they did so with good will. He was
considerably comforted by a rubbing down with Elliman, and was allowed
to “coucher” (one of his few French words): I heard later that he might
have lost his life for his offence in being found with a military rifle,
so we had cause to congratulate ourselves that things were no worse.
The soldier’s offence in being found without a rifle was an offence
punishable with death. Next day Yao was fit for duty again, but a very
chastened-looking object.

When we came near to the special danger zone, the escort became more
careful, and our party grew daily larger till it reached at last a
hundred persons, many people taking advantage of our escort. On all the
points of vantage dotted along our road were beacon towers, from which
danger signals are flashed in times of rebellion. I could not resist
having a joke at Li’s expense when we came to a wooded ravine, where
he said the robbers were certainly lurking; “Then I _must_ sketch it,”
I told him, and called a halt, to his obvious dismay. I was merciful,
however, and we didn’t stop more than a few minutes, while I did an
outline of the robbers’ haunt.

This escort went with us till we reached Chen Yüen, whence we travelled
by boat. Although it was somewhat risky to be without one, we decided
that it would be intolerable to have it in the restricted quarters of a
small house-boat. Our courage was rewarded by our immunity from disaster,
whereas a missionary party who took the Yangtze route in order to escape
it fell into the hands of brigands. Our friends, the Pikes, at Kwei
Yang had a most unfortunate experience on their last journey. Their
luggage was seized and all the contents emptied on to the muddy road,
and the robbers took whatever pleased their fancy; the remainder of the
things were not improved by their handling, and when they reached their
destination it was found that odd shoes, broken objects, and a dirty
collection of clothes filled the boxes. The good temper with which they
took their losses was remarkable, considering the difficulty and delay in
replacing necessary things, such as shoes.

One of the most interesting places in Kweichow is the town of Chen Yüen,
and I was glad we kept to the road instead of going by boat from Seh
Ping, although the rapids are said to be very fine. The distant view of
Chen Yüen as it first appears to the traveller through a gap between
the mountains is impressive: it seems to lie in a complete cul-de-sac,
lofty cliffs surrounding it on every side, with the river like a deep
jade-green ribbon winding between the serried ranks of sepia-coloured
roofs. Tempestuous clouds filled the sky as we approached the city, but
the setting sun lighted up a lofty crag studded with temples which
blocked up the end of the valley. The cliffs are so precipitous that the
people have built the city wall starting from the edge of a precipice at
a point some hundred feet above the city, saying that the Almighty had
protected it so far, and certainly His protection was of a very different
quality from that of the wall!

High up the cliffs we climbed to a temple, from which a tocsin sounds
in case of fire: it is certainly a splendid point of view, commanding
the whole city, which winds along the banks of the serpentine river. It
seems strange to see big junks with white-winged sails so far inland,
and to reflect that you can go the whole distance to Shanghai without
setting foot on shore, some fifteen hundred miles. It is a much quicker
way of travelling when going down stream, but terribly slow in the other
direction, not infrequently a three months’ journey.

The temples at Chen Yüen contain some of the finest wood carvings I have
seen in China, and are wonderfully situated up the face of a cliff, with
magnificent creepers hanging down from its crags and forming a background
to the zigzag stairways which lead from terrace to terrace. The situation
of the temples is chosen with consummate skill, and from each balcony a
new and lovely view is obtained, stretching farther and farther up the
valleys. The whole of the province is composed of mountains, with the
exception of three districts in the centre and north, where there are
plains of a limited size. Considering that the province is sixty-seven
thousand square miles in extent, this is a remarkable fact, and a large
part is inhabited by the aboriginal tribes: it is extraordinary that the
average population is a hundred and twenty-two to the square mile.

Our altitude varied from 1,400 to 5,700 feet, and the highest pass we
crossed was 7,200; our average was about 3,200, as we usually stopped at
villages hidden in the depths of the valleys, and continually crossed
over mountain passes.

[Illustration: Light for the Spirits.

_Page 113_]

We were quite sorry to leave the province, and I should like to have
visited the southern part, which we were told was even more beautiful
than the north, though it is hard to believe it. We were so anxious,
however, to visit Changteh, that we refused to be persuaded to change our
route, and found no cause to regret our decision.

We saw a curious detail in one village—a lamp at the top of a lofty
stand—with long cords by which to lower and raise it for lighting
purposes. Below it are ancestral tablets in a shrine and it stands in
the centre of the street. The use of the lamp is to act as a beacon to
wandering spirits who died away from home. It is only lighted on certain
festivals, and there is one at each end of that village—query, was there
great loss of life of the inhabitants during some absence from home? I
have only seen this spirit beacon on one other occasion, and that was in
the neighbouring province of Yünnan.

[Illustration]




_Chapter V_

_Some Aboriginal Tribes in Kweichow_

    “I heard a thousand blended notes,
    While in a grove I sat reclined,
    In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
    Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

    To her fair works did Nature link
    The human soul that through me ran;
    And much it grieved my heart to think
    What man has made of man.

    Through primrose tufts in that green bower,
    The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
    And ’tis my faith that every flower
    Enjoys the air it breathes.

    The birds around me hopped and played,
    Their thoughts I cannot measure:
    But the least motion which they made,
    It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

    The budding twigs spread out their fan,
    To catch the breezy air;
    And I must think, do all I can,
    That there was pleasure there.

    If such belief from Heaven be sent,
    If such be Nature’s holy plan;
    Have I not reason to lament
    What man has made of man.”

                                —W. WORDSWORTH.


_Chapter V_

_Some Aboriginal Tribes in Kweichow_

[Illustration: MIAO WOMAN.]

Kweichow is supposed to be the original home of the Miao stock. The
mountainous character of the province with its rugged fastnesses and deep
valleys is admirably suited to be the refuge for the many tribes who have
continually been driven back throughout the centuries by their enemies,
the Chinese. Many have taken refuge in the neighbouring province of
Yünnan and even in French territory south of the Red River. The hostility
of the Chinese to them is due to three causes, as far as I can gather:
(_i_) to the low morality of the tribes, (_ii_) to their illiteracy,
and (_iii_) to their dissimilarity of character to the Chinese. The
first two points are very vital to the Chinese: they are at the root of
all their civilization, for no ancient race has laid greater stress on
the necessity of morality and learning. Their contempt for the Miao is
unbounded and out of all proportion. Our interpreter was astonished to
find how different they were from all that he had ever heard, and decided
that he must enlighten Peking on the subject when he returned home!

The character of the people is in striking contrast to that of the
Chinese. They are warlike, frank, lawless, primitive, open-hearted,
opposed to trading and city life: some are great riders, but we never
saw one on horseback. This was due to their poverty, and we heard of no
rich ones: no doubt the headmen have a certain relative wealth. In the
north of Yünnan we heard of their having curious horse-races, when the
course would be strewn with feathers. The men wore capes, which gave them
a weird look of being birds of prey, as they swept along the course with
outstretched arms in clouds of dust and feathers. It is like the Caucas
Race in _Alice in Wonderland_: nobody wins.

The Miao are all agriculturists. They cultivate everything they require
for food and clothing except salt, which is a Chinese Government
monopoly: they only enjoy this luxury about twice a year, we were told at
Ta-ting.

In self-defence they live in villages, many of which are almost
inaccessible to the outside world and are only penetrated by
missionaries. One of our friends describes her descent from one such
village, with a man on each side holding her on to the saddle, while a
third held on to the pony’s tail to prevent him going down headlong!
The Miao huts are small and dark, and their love of colour is entirely
confined to personal adornment. Red, white and blue are the dominant
colours in their dress, and the material is hempen, the hemp for which
is grown, spun, woven and dyed by themselves. The dyes are vegetable,
and are of vivid colour. The different tribes have various designs, but,
roughly speaking, all the women wear short full kilts and jackets.

The Ta Wha Miao (Great Flowery Tribe) are the gayest in colour that we
saw: their designs are bold and effective, the colours used are scarlet
and dark blue on a whitish ground, and very exact in line. The design
consists of simple geometrical outlines, but these are often filled in
with colour, and use is made of a roughly-stencilled pattern which is
tacked on the material and worked over in coarse thread. I succeeded in
purchasing a partly-worked piece of embroidery from one of the men of
this tribe, his wife being away from home, though he evinced some anxiety
as to what she would say on finding out that he had done so when she
returned. The women seem very strong and independent, do most of the
work in the fields, and I can fancy she might have a heavy hand! Also
they are thoroughly feminine in their love of clothes. Many of them make
quite an elaborate wardrobe, and when a girl is going to a festival of
any sort she will take as much as forty pounds weight of clothes, which
her young swain will carry for her, so as to have a variety of costume!
One kilt I possess weighs nearly four pounds, and some kilts will have as
many as thirty-one breadths of material in them. They swing their kilts
with all the jauntiness of a Harry Lauder. Although the men are only
about five feet in height and the women about half an inch less and very
sturdy, their erect carriage lends them a certain attractive dignity. The
women cling tenaciously to their national dress, but not infrequently the
men discard their loose-flowing clothes for Chinese trousers, and many of
them speak the local Chinese dialects.

Formerly these people had no distinctive names and kept no count of their
age. Probably it is due to Western influence that they now have adopted
them. Sometimes the Chinese would take the women as wives and settle down
among them, but no Miao was allowed to marry a Chinese wife. One of them
told this to my interpreter.

As a rule they wear nothing on their feet; but some of those who could
afford it wear sandals, and the wealthier Miao (if so they can be called)
had prettily embroidered ones for special occasions, with an embroidered
band along the outer side of the foot, and fastened across the instep
with a scarlet thread. The Miaos of both sexes wear stout puttees wound
round and round their legs till they look like pillars; or a piece of
felt tied with a white band. They are generally dyed a dark blue colour.
Sometimes the girls’ unprotected feet get the skin cracked or cut with
the stones on their rough mountain paths. They think nothing of sewing
them up with needle and thread, as if they were stockings.

The style of hairdressing among the Great Flowery Miao is quite
different from those of other Miao tribes. Their coarse black hair is
very abundant; as long as they are unmarried girls they wear it in two
plaits, hanging from close behind the ears to well below the waist. When
a girl marries she coils her hair into a long horn, which stands out just
above, and in a line with the shoulder. When she becomes a proud mother
her horn is exalted into a lofty pyramid, rising straight upwards from
the crown of her head.

The men wear the same kind of embroideries as the women, placed like a
shawl across their shoulders, and a sort of long hempen garment falling
below the knees and girded in at the waist. Their upper garment has loose
sleeves, looped up about the elbow with ornamental braid, which they make
on primitive little looms. Round their heads they wind cloth turbanwise,
or else wear nothing. They live on the simplest diet, nothing but flour
cooked before grinding, which they mix with water into a kind of porridge
and eat twice a day: this, with some vegetables or herbs, is their staple
food. They are addicted to drinking and fed no shame in it; both sexes
have drinking bouts. No Chinese woman is ever seen drunk, and it is a
most unusual vice among them: but if she should be drunk, she would be
far too proud to be seen out of doors in such a condition. Morally the Ta
Wha Miao seem to be at the bottom of the scale, and the Heh (black) Miao
at the top.

Considering their extreme poverty we were much touched by these people
asking Mr. Slichter to express to us their regret at not being able, on
that account, to offer us hospitality. This was in reply to a message he
had given them from us, expressing our pleasure at being with them and
regret at not being able to visit their various villages, or talk to them
in their own language.

[Illustration: Little Flowery Miao Coat.

_Page 120_]

There are supposed to be a very large number of different Miao tribes;
the Chinese put the number at seventy. No one has yet attempted to
classify them. Their language is practically the same throughout the
tribes, with considerable local variations; but none of them have any
written language, so that unless a careful study is soon made of it,
there will be no lasting record kept. As they become assimilated with the
Chinese, such a study will become increasingly difficult. The language
seems to be limited in range, as one might expect. There is no word to
express joy, gaiety, and it almost seems as if the reason may be that
they experience so little happiness under usual conditions. All those we
met in markets or on the road looked extremely dull and sullen, in marked
contrast to the Chinese. I watched carefully and never saw a smile; yet
those who have become Christians are the very reverse. A merrier crew it
has never been my lot to see, and they beam from ear to ear. The Great
Flowery Miao are never to be seen away from their own villages unless
they are on the road to religious services. When they come to these
services they often travel long distances, sixty or seventy miles, and
bring their food in a bag on their backs; as they receive nothing from
the missionaries of a material nature, it is evident that they are not
“rice Christians.”

The Little Flowery Miao are so called because their clothes are
embroidered in the finest little designs and remarkably beautiful both in
design and colour. There are subtle touches of spring green introduced
into a harmony of brown, black, white and yellow. There are no less
than thirty-four rows of cross-stitch to the inch, and as accurate as
though they had been ruled. To heighten the value of this delicate
design there are long narrow rows of different-coloured superimposed
folded pieces of material, sometimes as many as eight in number in the
following order—orange, red, white; or orange, green, red, bright blue,
indigo, orange, red, white. The last three colours are especially used in
conjunction, sometimes as a sort of small panel of _appliqué_ work in the
midst of cross-stitch designs.

It is most interesting to note the complete contrast in design of the
needlework of all these tribes with that of the Chinese. The latter is
exclusively naturalistic, more so in fact than that of any other people,
and includes the widest possible range of subject. The inexhaustible
fertility of Chinese imagination is shown in their treatment of
landscape, life in all its many forms, the unseen world, human and
demonic passion; and everything depicted by the needle just as much as
by the brush is full of life and action. The tribes-people, on the other
hand, depict nothing naturalistic; all their designs are geometrical
and of no mean quality. The fact that in primitive art elsewhere the
naturalistic comes first and in course of time becomes conventionalized
and geometric makes the work of these tribes an interesting problem.
The only figures in their work are little rows of men and animals in
cross-stitch. These are worked in red, blue, yellow, white and black on
a black ground, only two or three stitches of each colour together, and
other little designs mixed in with it. The result is ineffective. The
figures are so small and inconspicuous that you only see them on close
scrutiny.

The material on which the embroidery is made is a fine hempen native-made
cloth, and it takes at least two years to complete the making of a
garment, from the time the hemp is grown till the workmanship is
finished. The general material worn is remarkably like the hessian cloth
used in our kitchens, only more closely woven.

The Black Miao form a very striking contrast to the Flowery Miao. They
are so called because their clothes, even the head-dress, are practically
all black, and the embroidery on them is so small, so fine, so subdued
in colour that the general effect is sombre. The men wear also very dark
brown or black clothes. They live mostly in the south-eastern part of the
province, but we met them in various places, and they looked decidedly
more intelligent and less sulky than the others. They are quite a
different type, though they all have very broad faces and black hair.

We met a large number of the “Wooden Comb” Miao at Tenten. They are much
taller than the other Miao. They are so called because both men and women
wear their long black hair rolled up and fastened on the top of the head
with a wooden comb. These combs are mostly plain and unvarnished, but I
have one which is very prettily decorated in several colours. They have
quite a peculiar type of face, large Semitic noses, and the men wear a
thickly-folded white band round their head. Their clothes are for the
most part white, with a touch of blue, for instance, in the waistband,
on to which a pocket is slung in front. The women dress mainly in dark
blue, with an occasional touch of red in the skirts. The girls wear their
jackets open down to the waist; but married women wear a kind of felt
apron suspended from just above the breast. This felt is made of wool,
which is beaten until it reaches the required thickness and density and
becomes a solid mass. The cloth of which the jacket is made has a shiny
surface like sateen, which also is produced by beating. Some of them wear
thick twisted coils of scarlet thread wound twice round the head and
fixed with a scarlet wooden comb.

I got my interpreter to make a list of the different Miao tribes living
in the part of the province we visited. He did this at the dictation
of one of their number. The various Miao-chia (chia means “family”)
are mainly named on account of differences of clothing, especially as
regards colour, but also sometimes by their occupation, as the “Shrimps”
(Sa Miao), so called because they sell fresh-water fish and shrimps;
the “Magpies,” called after the birds, because their dress is black and
white; and the “West of the Water Miao” (Hsen-hsi Miao) because they live
on the west of the river that we crossed between Anshunfu and Ta-ting:
they are said to number only six villages.

    Pei Chun     Miao (they wear aprons on their backs).
    Ta Hsiang     ”   (  ”   ”   broad sleeves).
    Hsiao Hsiang  ”   (  ”   ”   small sleeves).
    Ching         ”   (  ”   ”   green clothes).
    Ching[24]     ”   (  ”   ”   large combs).
    Yi Chun       ”   (  ”   ”   their clothes tucked up into their belts).
    Wu Chian      ”
    Chuan         ”   (= River Miao).
    Fu Tu         ”
    Han           ”

In S. R. Clarke’s book, _Among the Tribes in South-West China_, much
useful information is given about these tribes, under the headings of
four groups, the Miao, the Heh-lao, the Chung-chia and the I-chia, or
Lolo, or Nosu. Having lived for thirty-three years in China, mainly in
Kweichow, he has collected many legends and details of their beliefs.
The most interesting group to me was the I-chia, of whom my interpreter
made a long list at the dictation of an evangelist, who was an I-chia.
The tribes seem to have kept pretty distinct from one another up to the
present time, but if peace reigns and they all become civilized, it is
likely that the barrier to intermarriage will tend to break down.

The “Wooden Combs” are ancestor worshippers like the Chinese, and we had
the good fortune to be given three of their “dooteepoussas” (I do not
know how this word should be spelt, but have written it phonetically),
namely sections of bamboo, each containing “a soul,” wrapped in cotton
wool and fastened with a thread. A wooden pin runs crosswise through
the bamboo, which prevents the “soul” being drawn out by a tiny bunch
of grass, which protrudes from the top of the soul-carrier. As will be
seen by the illustration, these are exactly in the shape of crosses and
they have little cuts on the bamboo varying in number, which refer to the
deceased. The Lolos also have these soul-carriers. In Yünnan Province
the shape of these soul-carriers approximates to the Chinese ancestral
tablets and Clarke gives another form of them which he calls a spirit
hamper. The name “lolo” given to these tribes by the Chinese is said to
come from this fact, lolo meaning a basket. The Lolos consider the name
to be a term of terrible reproach, but do not object to be called Nosu
or I-chia. They keep these spirits in their houses, or a tree, or hidden
in a rock. The ones I possess are kept in a long box fastened against the
outer wall of a house, with a shelter over it like a shrine: sometimes
more than one family keeps their soul-carriers in the same box. The
funeral rites of these people are very elaborate and extend over a whole
year. Dr. A. Henry has kindly given me permission to quote his account of
these people and their language from the _Journal of the Anthropological
Society_ for 1903. He spent much time studying their habits and language
in Yünnan, and brought back from there large quantities of MSS.,
ancestral tablets and dresses.

“The ceremonies and rituals in case of death and burial are numerous and
complicated. After death a hole is made with a pole in the roof of the
house to enable the breath or soul to escape. A cow is brought to the
door of the house, and from its head is extended a white cord, which
is fastened to the hand of the corpse lying inside the coffin, and a
ritual called Su-pu is read. If the death is unclean (all cases of death
by accident, childbirth, suicide, etc., are impure, also a death is
considered impure unless some one has been present when it occurred),
a preliminary purificatory ritual is necessary, after which the usual
rituals can be recited. On the second and third days after death two
important rituals, the meh-cha and wu-cha, are read. When the coffin
is being carried out for burial, a paper effigy is placed on it, which
represents clothes for the soul of the dead man. At this time also the
priest recites the “Jo-mo” or road ritual, and he accompanies the coffin
a hundred paces from the house. The ritual begins by stating that as
in life the father teaches the son, and the husband the wife, it is
only the priest who can teach the dead man the road that his soul must
travel after death. The threshold of the house is first mentioned, then
the various places on the road to the grave, and beyond that all the
towns and rivers and mountains that must be traversed by the soul till
it reaches the Taliang Mountain, the home of the Lolo race. (The Lolos
come mainly from Szechwan and the borders of Tibet.) Here the priest says
that he himself must return, and entreats the dead man to pursue his
way beyond the grave alone. The dead man then enters Hades, and stands
beside the Thought Tree and the Tree of Talk, and there he thinks of the
dear ones left behind and weeps bitterly. After this ritual is read, the
priest returns to the house, and the coffin goes on to the grave.

The Lolos believe that for each person on earth there is a corresponding
star in the sky. So when a man is ill, a sacrifice is often made of wine
in cups to his star, and four-and-twenty lamps are lighted outside his
room. On the day after a funeral a hole is dug in the death-chamber at a
spot indicated by rolling an egg on the ground till it stops. A ritual is
recited praying the star of the dead man to descend and be buried in this
hole. If this were not done the star would fall and possibly hurt some
one.

The ancestral tablet is made on the second day after the funeral
and erected in the central room of the house on the ninth day, with
an appropriate ritual. It is worshipped on certain dates and on all
important occasions in life. It is called I-pu (= ancestor). It consists
of a structure of wooden pieces, made out of the Pieris tree, the log of
which was the ark of the Lolo deluge. A transverse bundle of grass is
made of the same grass as is used for thatch. Two pieces of bamboo root
represent the deceased father and mother, one having nine, the other
seven joints. The inscription reads: “The dwelling place of so-and-so
(giving the name), the pair, man and woman, our ancestors.” It is written
by the priest with ink, the water of which is brought by the son of the
house from a secret spring in the forest, from a locality only known to
the family of the deceased.”

My three soul-carriers contain the souls of the men of three
generations—son, father, grandfather. The Lolos have a Book of the Dead
which Dr. Henry considers to be not unlike that of the ancient Egyptians.

There are a great many Lolo tribes, and the one which we came in contact
with at Ta-ting is of great antiquity, showing virile and intellectual
qualities that promise well for future development, should they leave
their old isolation and get drawn into the stream of present-day Chinese
progress. They are tall and well built, quite unlike the Chinese in
appearance and carriage. Naturally the open-air life of all these
tribesmen gives them a freer gait, and the absence of etiquette and
formality shows itself in all their movements. The shape of their faces
is oval, unlike the broad Miao type; their eyes are large and level;
their cheekbones prominent and the contour of the face rounded; their
noses long, arched and rather broad; their chins pointed. Their faces are
apt to grow very wrinkled. The poise of the head of all these men struck
me as indicative of an independent spirit.

All the tribes are practically autonomous, although nominally under
Chinese rule: they have their own rulers, but these are responsible to,
and many of them nominated by, the Chinese authorities. They frequently
rent lands from them for cultivation, and law suits are very common
among the I-chia about land and about daughters-in-law. Since the
recrudescence of opium-poppy growing they have been compelled to use a
certain proportion of land for its cultivation. They are not addicted to
opium-smoking, and the Christians object to it on moral grounds: they
have in consequence suffered considerable persecution and have even been
evicted from the lands they had previously cultivated. They are terribly
poor, and when the crops fail many of them die of starvation; this has
happened during the last two years, which has been a period of great
scarcity.

I quote in full Dr. Henry’s extremely interesting account of their
language. “The Lolo language is of extreme simplicity, both as regards
its phonology and syntax, and its manner of making new words. It belongs
to the monosyllabic class of languages, of which Chinese is the most
highly developed member. Attempts have been made to deny the primitive
monosyllabic nature of the Chinese language, and to consider it as broken
down from some pre-existent polysyllabic agglutinative tongue. I am of
opinion that a comparative study of Chinese, Lolo, Miao, etc., will
establish that this tonal monosyllabic class is primitive, and that we
have the vocabularies of these languages’ original roots unchanged.

“To illustrate the simplicity of Lolo phonology, I may state that all
words are monosyllables, composed of either a vowel or of a consonant
followed by a vowel, as A, O, BA, BO, BI, BU. Such combinations as
AB, ARD, STO, STAR are impossible. The initial consonants may all be
considered simple, though such varieties occur as T and aspirated T, and
four sibilants, as S, Z, TS and DZ. There is one apparent exception,
namely SL, in SLA, SLO, SLU; but I found that this occurred in another
district as THL, showing a certain instability of sound; and further
research established that the original sound, still kept in Lolodom, is
an aspirated L, so that we have L’O, L’A, L’U. Similar aspirations occur
in connexion with T, P, CH, K and NG.

“Tones in Lolo are three or four, according to locality. There are
no inflections whatsoever, the simple roots being unchangeable. All
the words are simple roots, but by simple addition they can be used
to express new ideas, thus _gunpowder_ is now called _fire-rice_. I
could only find one modification of the simple roots, occurring in four
causative verbs, and they are these:

    DZO, to eat.     CHO, to give to eat, to feed.
    DA, to drink.    TA, to give to drink.
    DU, to go out.   TU, to cause to go out.
    DEH, to wear.    TEH, to give to wear.

“The syntax is very simple, the place of words in the sentence being
the most important factor. Post-positions, personal and demonstrative
pronouns, interrogative words, adverbs of time, and a few auxiliary verbs
occur; but relatives and conjunctions are absent. Numeral co-efficients
are present, as in all the Chinese group of languages and in Malay. We
cannot say _two men_, _ten trees_, but must say _man two person_, _tree
ten stem_. The plural, tenses of verbs, etc., are rarely expressed,
unless absolutely needed; and a Lolo sentence is very suggestive of baby
talk. Thus, ‘If he comes I shall not see him,’ is expressed as ‘He come I
he not see’; and ‘When he came I did not see him’ as ‘He come that time I
not see.’

“I consider that the simple phonology and primitive syntax of the Lolo
language are important to study, as we there see a primitive monosyllabic
tongue, composed of simple roots, the type by which all languages must
have begun.”

[Illustration: Ancient I-chia Script.

_Page 130_]

The Miao people were invited many years ago by the missionaries to learn
to write their own language in romanized script, but they refused, saying
they preferred their children to learn to read and write Chinese. It is
obvious that this would be far better for them from a practical point of
view. A Miao who knows Chinese thus can make a good living by translating
Chinese contracts or official documents for his neighbours.

The religion of all these tribes is mainly animistic, but the Lolos have
priests, though not temples. The priests have tents, divided into two
parts, of which one is holy and the other holier. Their sacrifices have
to be of flawless creatures, cows and fowls. Their creed might be summed
up as “I believe in evil spirits, necromancy, ancestor worship and a
future life.” By far the most potent factor in their existence is terror
of demons. All their existence is overshadowed by fear. There are all
kinds of horrible demons of various colours, green and red and blue: some
have dishevelled hair and some have hair standing on end. To add to the
horror, although they are like men in appearance, they are invisible.
They shoot arrows of disease and send bad dreams to men.

    “Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,
    And the whisper spreads and widens far and near:
    And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now—
    He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear.”

In Yünnan they worship a stone placed at the foot of a Dragon tree,
either in a wood behind the village or close to the houses. I did not
see any in Kweichow, though I sketched just such a stone in Macao, where
there were offerings of incense and scarlet paper. There is a sacrifice
of a pig and a fowl made twice a year at the stone. The origin of this
worship is not known, but it is now supposed to be addressed to a god in
the sky, who protects the people. As regards the tree, it is a curious
fact that it is not of any particular species, but that every village in
the province of Yünnan, whether of the Chinese or of the aborigines, has
one; they have the same belief about its being inhabited by a dragon,
which protects the village.

The Ya-ch’io Miao offer in sacrifice an ox to Heaven and a pig to Earth,
and once every thirteen years they sacrifice buffaloes to Heaven.
Their sorcerers are men who wield great power, and it is a hereditary
profession. The sorcerer must wear a special kind of hat when he is
engaged in divination: without it he is powerless. He has special books
(of which I am fortunate enough to possess one) with movable disks,
superimposed one on another, for casting horoscopes. These books are
handed down from generation to generation, and used to be copied out
by hand; but nowadays they are printed. Such books were brought by an
I-chia, who had become a Christian, in order to have them burnt; the
missionary asked leave to keep them instead, explaining their historic
value. The accompanying illustration is taken from one of these priceless
old MSS. describing the Creation. It is written on a brittle kind of
paper, extremely worn and fragile, and the leaves are fastened together
with twisted strips of paper, acting as a string. This is a peculiarly
Chinese way of binding, such as you may see students practising any day
in class to fasten their notes. The colour of the paper is brown, the
characters black, and the illustrations are painted in several shades
of yellow and brown, forming a harmonious whole. The upper circle,
containing a bird, is the moon; and the lower circle, containing a beast,
is the earth.

Dr. Henry brought a large number of MSS. back from Yünnan, which are now
in the British Museum, but they differ in certain respects from mine. In
the first place, they contain no diagrams; secondly, they are all divided
up metrically into groups of five characters, or seven; mine are not all
divided into groups (as may be seen from the illustration, Ancient I-chia
Script), and those that are in groups vary in number, four, or five, or
six. He says that the subject-matter of all the MSS. which he studied
is religious ritual, genealogies, legends and song, and all are written
in verse. The script is quite unique: it is pictographic in origin, not
ideographic like the Chinese. Many Chinese words are compound, one part
denoting sound, the other part denoting meaning: Lolo words are never
compounds.

The characters, as will be seen from the illustration, are decidedly
simpler than Chinese. I had the good fortune to submit my MSS. when I
was at Swatow (a couple of months later) to a learned Chinese scholar,
who seemed greatly interested in them. He took them into his hands with
devout reverence and care, as if they were of priceless value. He said
that he had indeed seen such MSS. before, but that it was extremely rare:
he at once said that it came from no Chinese source, but from aborigines
in the north of Kweichow. When I asked if it were some hundreds of years
old, he replied, “Oh! much older than that,” and stated that the numerals
and certain other characters were the same as the Chinese script of three
thousand years ago. One of the characters which he pointed out was that
for the moon:

    My MS. gives [Illustration]
    Dr. Henry’s  [Illustration]
    Chinese      [Illustration]

I have also compared my MS. with pages of Lolo writing published by
Colborne Baber in the Geographical Society’s Supplementary Paper, 1882,
and can find no exact correspondence between them. Surely it would be
a most interesting study for some one to undertake, the more so that
there is already a wealth of material lying ready to hand at the British
Museum. The Lolo writing is also different from Chinese in that it is
read in columns from left to right and the book begins at the same end
as ours. It corresponds with the later Syriac mode of writing, and Dr.
Henry suggests it may have had some connexion with the Nestorians, who
were to be found in all parts of China from the seventh to the thirteenth
centuries. S. R. Clarke mentions a spirit who controls the crops, and is
called by the Lolos Je-so: the Christians suggested that this name be the
one adopted for Jesus Christ, but it was not done.

The above-mentioned theory would account for some of the Lolo practices
and beliefs, which are otherwise very difficult to account for, such as
their keeping the Sabbath every sixth day, when no ploughing is allowed
to be done, and the women are not even allowed to sew or wash clothes
on that day. Of course this does not apply to all Lolos, but only to
some in Yünnan. They have also the remarkable crosses (as seen in the
soul-carriers), and they believe in patriarchs who lived to abnormal
ages, such as six hundred and sixty or nine hundred and ninety years, as
in the Old Testament records, not to mention the stories of the creation
and the deluge. Their name for Adam has the two consonants d and m, it is
Du-mu. The patriarchs are supposed to live in the sky: the chief of them
is called Tse-gu-dzih, and this patriarch is also a deity who opened the
box containing the seeds of death; he thus gave suffering humanity the
boon of death. He also caused the deluge.

“The legend of the deluge,” says Dr. Henry, “runs that the people were
wicked, and Tse-gu-dzih to try them sent a messenger to earth, asking for
some blood and flesh from a mortal. All refused but Du-mu. Tse-gu-dzih
then locked the rain gates, and the water mounted to the sky. Du-mu (?
Adam) was saved with his four sons in a log hollowed out of the Pieris
tree; and there were also saved otters, wild ducks and lampreys. From
his sons are descended civilized people who can write, as the Chinese
and Lolos. The ignorant races descend from men that were made by Du-mu
out of pieces of wood. Du-mu is worshipped as the ancestor of the Lolos,
and nearly all legends begin with some reference (like our ‘once upon a
time’) to Du-mu or the Deluge. Du-mu and precedent men had their eyes
placed vertically in their sockets; after him came the present race of
men, who have their eyes placed horizontally. This quaint idea may have
some reference to the encroachment of the oblique-eyed Mongolians, who
have horizontal eyes, as it were, i.e. eyes narrow in height, whereas
Europeans and other races have eyes that may be called vertical, i.e.
wide from above downwards.

“The Lolos have a cosmogony. Their account of the Creation is that there
were two Spirits, A-chi and A-li. A-chi made the sky, and made it evenly
and well. A-li slept, and on awakening saw that the sky was completed.
In his hurry to do his work, he dumped hurriedly earth here and there.
This accounts for the inequalities of the earth’s surface. When the sky
was first created the sun and moon were dull, and did not shine properly.
They were washed by two sky-maidens, and have remained clean and bright
ever since.”

Some of the Lolo tribes have the story of the Creation, but not all of
them, whereas the story of the Deluge is universal, though not always
the same. In some cases Noah has three sons, and in some no animals are
mentioned. The Black Miao story is told thus by S. R. Clarke, to whom it
was dictated:

    “Who made Heaven and Earth?
    Who made insects?
    Who made men?
    Made male and made female?
      I who speak don’t know.

    Vang-vai (Heavenly King) made Heaven and Earth,
    Ziene made insects.
    Ziene made men and demons,
    Made male and made female.
      How is it you don’t know?

    Heavenly King is (or was) intelligent.
    Spat a lot of spittle into his hand,
    Clapped his hands with a noise,
    Produced heaven and earth.

    Tall wild grass made insects.
    Stones made men and demons.
    Made male and made female.
      How is it you don’t know?

    Made heaven in what way?
    Made earth in what way?
      Thus by rote I sing,
      But don’t understand.

    Made heaven like a sun-hat.
    Made earth like a dust-pan.
      Why don’t you understand?
    Made heaven a single lump,
    Made earth a single lump.”[25]

This is just a sample of their ideas; now I will give a sample of
their habits. They have big carouses on the open mountain slopes. A
man desirous to enter into relationship with a girl will watch his
opportunity for seeing her alone, and give as a signal a wide sweeping
movement of the arm: if she acquiesces she will go to the carouse. These
do not take place at stated intervals, but a party of young men will go
off with girls in groups of twenty or thirty and sit round a big fire,
singing their amorous ditties. These are mostly of a coarse nature not
suited for publication, but Dr. Henry has translated the following song
by girls working in the fields addressed to boys:

    “We girls three
    The black earth’s silver bridge,
    Together with you youths, we have crossed it;
    The white sky’s golden hat,
    With you we have worn it;
    The golden fan of the sun and moon,
    Together we have seen it wave.
    We girls and boys to-night have met.
    Singing and playing comes from the hearts of boys and girls;
    Silver comes from China;
    Silk from the capital;
    The rice from the plain;
    The wheat from the mountain,
    But courting-talk comes from the mouths of boys.”

While the “courting-talk” goes on round the fire, there is a goodly store
of weapons lying behind the singers. Any moment they may be attacked by
the parents, brothers or friends of the girls. When this happens and the
attack proves successful the luckless revellers are stripped naked.

The custom of the Little Flowery Miao is somewhat similar. Twice a year
the men make music outside the houses where the girls live, and those who
please go off with them to the hills for a carouse. Once a year the men
choose their girls, and the other time the girls choose their men! The
girls usually marry about fifteen or sixteen, and if they happen to be
poor they go to the mother-in-law’s house very young. Among the tribes
there are go-betweens to arrange marriages, but undoubtedly the young
people have a better chance of selection by mutual liking than have the
Chinese.

The music of the people is mostly produced from pipes, and has a certain
charm; it is flute-like in sound, and some we heard was not unlike that
of bagpipes without the drone. The I-chia are all fond of music and
dancing. They were rather shamefacedly persuaded to dance for us, while
one of them played. The steps were rather slow and stealthy, alternating
with rapid pirouetting. They sank almost to the ground on one bent leg,
while the other leg shot out in front to its furthest limit.

Witchcraft is firmly believed in by all the tribes. The witch-doctor has
a great hold over them, and trades on their superstition shamelessly,
getting wine, tobacco, or corn by means of what is called his “daemon,”
without apparently stealing the things himself. The witch-doctor uses
snake-poison to injure or kill people, and only he can make them well
again! He also induces madness, so that the madman may fling off his
clothes, which the doctor then picks up and carries off!

A curious story was told by an eye-witness to my friends in Ta-ting. He
was present at the building of a house in the country by two stonemasons.
They began quarrelling, and finally one went off in a great rage,
refusing to finish his job. The other remarked confidently, “It does not
matter; I shall get him back before evening”; but the onlookers did not
believe it. The narrator of the story saw him go off to the hill-side and
gather a bunch of grass and straw. He fashioned these into the figure of
a man and cast spells upon it, after which he returned to his job and
went on as if nothing had happened. Before he had finished the day’s
work, the other man returned in great haste, dripping with perspiration;
he apologized for his conduct and resumed work. He explained that after
he had left in the morning he became very ill and suffered such agonies
of pain that he felt sure he would die if he did not return at once.

Such is the kind of story that is current everywhere. It is a matter of
common belief that the witch-doctor never has any children, and that this
is a punishment from heaven. The influence of the missionaries brings
them frequently into contact with strange happenings: one of them in
Ta-ting. Miss Welzel was asked to visit a woman who had taken poison, to
see if she could do anything for her: on inquiring into the case she was
told that there had been no quarrel or any other known reason for her
committing suicide. The woman said she had seen daemons come into the
house through the window, who told her to take two ounces of opium in
brandy, which she immediately did, after which she announced the fact
to her family. They sent for Miss Welzel, but it was too late: the woman
died a few moments after her arrival.

[Illustration: Great Flowery Miao.

_Page 125_]

[Illustration: A Roadside Restaurant.

_Page 140_]

The funeral rites, which take place in the fields, include the burning of
buffaloes’ horns, cows’ bones, etc., on a kind of altar.

Our stay among the tribes and all we heard about them led us to believe
that they are capable of becoming a valuable asset to the empire, and the
progress now being made in civilizing them is most encouraging. Some have
even been sent as elected members of the first Parliament of the Chinese
Republic. They have proved themselves capable of taking literary degrees
on the same footing as the Chinese. One of the most powerful viceroys in
Western China was a Nosu. In S. Pollard’s book, _In Unknown China_, he
mentioned the interesting fact that he had obtained (through a friend)
the opinion of the brilliant Dr. Wu Ting Fang (formerly Chinese Minister
at Washington) as to the position of the tribes in the new five-coloured
flag. He places them in the red bar, which stands first of the colours,
reckoning them as Sons of Han, namely among the Chinese.

[Illustration]




_Chapter VI_

_The Province of Hunan_

                        “You’ve seen the world
    —The beauty and the wonder and the power,
    The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades,
    Changes, surprises—and God made it all!
    —For what? Do you feel thankful, aye, or no,
    For this fair town’s face, yonder river’s line,
    The mountain round it and the sky above,
    Much more the figures of man, woman, child,
    These are the frame to? What’s it all about?
    To be passed over, despised? or dwelt upon,
    Wondered at?...
    ... This world’s no blot for us,
    Nor blank; it means intensely, and means good:
    To find its meaning is my meat and drink.”

                                              —R. BROWNING.


_Chapter VI_

_The Province of Hunan_

[Illustration: INN PAPER WINDOW.]

We spent about three weeks in Hunan, and the weather was broken all
the time. Many days it rained, and occasionally there were violent
thunderstorms, so that our journey was delayed. We left the province of
Kweichow on May 14, and found ten days in our little house-boat quite
entertaining and recuperative, as it afforded time for rest after the
strenuous journey over the highways and by-ways of that province. The
river scenery was often very grand, though not equal to the Yangtze
gorges. There was constant variety to occupy our attention, stopping at
towns and villages, watching the other river craft, and making up arrears
of correspondence. We had also been provided by Mr. Davies with a bundle
of newspapers, and were glad to learn what was going on in the outer
world, from which we seemed so completely shut out for the time being.
It really did not matter that the papers were a few weeks old; the main
thing was that we should not be so entirely ignorant of what had happened
during our absence, when once more we reached home.

Mr. Davies had considerable difficulty in getting us a boat, as the
boatmen were all anxious to get loads of opium for smuggling down river.
There was a bumper crop, and the price of transport is heavy. Finally he
succeeded in securing the boat in which he and his family had come up
earlier in the season. The bargain was made for sixty-two dollars for
the trip, with a bonus of two extra at the end, if we were satisfied.
There were to be four rowers, but they didn’t keep to the agreement. They
wanted to have military escort in addition, which we declined on account
of the limited deck space in which they and the owners have to live.

The accommodation of a river-boat is small: ours consisted of three
tiny compartments, of which we took two, finding that our beds occupied
exactly half the space, with a well between them, and our chairs and
table the remainder. The cooking was done in a sort of well in the small
deck in front of us, and it was a great satisfaction to watch the way in
which it was done by Yao and his meticulous cleanliness. There was no
lack of water, so each vegetable was washed in clean water about five
or six times. I believe the correct number of times to wash rice before
cooking is ten. It was really astonishing to see the dishes Yao prepared
on the handful of charcoal which was used to cook not only our meals but
also those of the crew.

The scenery was very wild and beautiful, and on the whole our crew rowed
well. There was an engaging little girl of three years old, who amused
us not a little with her clever manipulation of the chopsticks, never
dropping a grain of rice: she wore two silver bangles and two rings.
Each night we moored by the bank in what was considered a safe place,
for the robbers were much dreaded by the crew. Our live stock—chickens
and ducks—were tethered out to graze. At one place they took on a couple
of unarmed police, unknown to us, but as they would have been no use
whatever had we been attacked, I ordered them to be put ashore at the
next town. The robbers had burned many villages, we were told, driving
off the cattle, killing some of the inhabitants, and looting all that
was of value to them. All the way we passed shrines dotted along the
river-bank—one hideous fat Buddha was painted on the rock—and incense
was burnt continually by the owners of the boat. The quality of their
zeal varied relatively to the danger incurred, so we had no need to
make inquiry. At the worst part of all we had to support the courage
of the crew by a pork feast, portions of which were flung into the air
and caught by wicked-looking crows, which hovered screaming overhead.
These crows are looked upon as evil spirits of the river needing to be
propitiated.

The first important town we reached in Hunan was Yuan Chowfu, and we
found there some missionaries of the China Inland Mission who had many
interesting experiences to tell of revolutionary days. Hunan has always
been a particularly anti-foreign province, and work has progressed
slowly: it is not at all surprising that the people should be slow to
understand the object of foreigners coming to settle among them, and
every one mistrusts what they do not understand. It needs something to
break down prejudice, and in this case the something was of a tragic
nature. The missionary came home one day to find his wife lying in the
veranda with a fractured skull and brain exposed to view: she had been
attacked by a madman, who left her for dead. It was long before she
was nursed back to a certain measure of health, with speech and memory
gone. This happened two years ago, and now she is slowly regaining
strength and her lost powers, and welcomed us with exquisite hospitality;
despite having an attack of fever, she insisted on our staying to tea
and the evening meal. Mr. and Mrs. Becker have the supreme satisfaction
of finding that from the time of the accident their work has taken on
a wholly different complexion; the people have rallied round them and
look to them for support in troublous times. With but slight medical
training Mr. Becker organized Red Cross classes, and took charge of the
wounded in the mission premises. At one time the city was threatened
by revolutionaries, the officials lost control, and for three days he
took full command and saved the situation. He received medals and a
complimentary board from the Government, acknowledging the great services
he had rendered to Yuan Chow.

No less than nine times Mr. Becker has been caught by robbers, but has
never had a single thing stolen by them, which certainly constitutes a
record. When a pistol was put to his head, he presented a visiting card,
saying, “Take this to your Chief”: it is a fine example of “a soft answer
turneth away wrath.” On recognizing who he is, they have always released
him without any injury. He told us that recently the robber bands have
been broken up, and thought we need have no anxiety about them. We were
regaled with the first strawberries of the season from their garden,
which contained a promising supply of vegetables, and there were goats
and kids in pens. We went away loaded with good things, and deeply
impressed by the sight of these heroic workers and their colleagues.

The principal industry of the place is white wax: special ash trees grow
here on which the insects live, but every year the insects necessary to
produce the wax have to be brought from the neighbouring province of
Szechwan. “When they reach the right stage of development they are put
in paper boxes, in bamboo trays, and carried by the swiftest runners.
These men only travel by night, as it is essential that the process of
development should not proceed too rapidly. The boxes have to be opened
every day and ventilated, and the men secure the best rooms in the inns,
so that other travellers have to suffer if they are on the road at the
same time” (_Face of China_, p. 183). There were also large numbers of
paulownia trees, with their lilac flowers in full bloom: they produce a
vegetable oil used for cooking and for furniture. All this district is
noted for its trees, and much wood is brought down by a tributary river
from the Panghai district, where it is cut down by the Black Miao tribe.

The next town where we halted was particularly attractive, surrounded
by red sandstone walls and grey stone battlements. We made a complete
tour on the top of the city wall, but the houses are so high that you
cannot see into any of the courtyards. At one point there was a fine,
picturesque group of trees overhanging the wall, otherwise the houses
were built very close together, like a rabbit warren. On the battlements
were a number of most comical little guns, some carefully protected from
the weather by shrines built over them. They looked as if they might have
come out of the ark, but were only about seventy years old, some being
dated.

In the market we bought wild raspberries, which had quite a good flavour
when cooked, but they were rather tart, as they were not fully ripe. We
found wild strawberries by the wayside, but were told that some varieties
are poisonous, and those we ate were quite tasteless.

Our next halting-place was Hong Kiang, where we arrived at 8.30 a.m., and
spent a pleasant day with two missionary families, one being a doctor’s.
He was rather depressed, because the town is under the control of a
military governor of irascible temper. The doctor’s cook had recently
been suffering from insanity and was being treated in the hospital,
when he was suddenly seized and condemned to death. The doctor, on
hearing of it, went instantly to the Governor to explain matters, but he
pleaded in vain, and found the man had been shot while he was with the
Governor. Executions are continually taking place, and so badly done that
frequently the offenders linger wounded for hours after they have been
shot. Often the doctor is begged to go and help, but what can he do? On
occasion he has been allowed to go and bring them back to life! In one
case he had taken stretchers on which to bring the sufferers back to the
hospital, but they were one too few, so that he told one man he would
come back for him. The man dare not wait for his return, and managed,
despite being in a terrible condition, to drag himself to the hospital on
foot.

Mr. Hollenwenger took us up a high hill behind the city to see the view,
and it was certainly worth while, although the heat was great. The river
winds round a long strip of land, and a narrow stream across it could
easily be made navigable so as to save the junks having to make a detour
of several miles. Another big tributary joins the river almost opposite
the stream, by which quantities of wood are brought down from the hills.
The valley is full of ricefields, and we saw men transplanting the rice
with incredible rapidity from the small field in which it is originally
raised to the larger fields where it attains maturity.

When we got back to lunch we found Dr. Witt had to go at once to an
ambulance class, which the Governor had requested him to undertake
in view of the troops being sent to fight in the struggle now going
on between North and South. In various parts of the country we found
missionaries being used by the authorities in this way. At the time that
China joined the Allies during the war they told the German missionaries
to leave the country, but exceptions were made in the case of many like
these, whose work was felt to justify their remaining.

The next town of importance that we reached was Shen Chowfu, where
there is quite a large group of American missionaries with hospitals,
schools, etc., whom we had been asked to visit. Their buildings stood up
conspicuously at both ends of the long river-front of the city. We were
told that the hospital had been built with indemnity money paid by the
Chinese Government on account of the murder of C.I.M. missionaries many
years ago, but which the C.I.M. declined to accept. It is a well-known
fact that such money never comes from the guilty parties, but is extorted
from the people, and consequently is always a source of ill-will. We
were told by some charming American ladies there, how bitter the feeling
had been against them, and that for years they were guarded by soldiery
and never left their houses unaccompanied by a guard. They had spacious
gardens, and the missionaries’ families lived there without ever going
into the streets. It seemed a strange kind of existence, and brought
home to us acutely the question of mission policy. There seem to me to
be two classes of American missionary ideals—roughly speaking—one of
which is responsible for some of the finest work possible in China and
which every one must heartily admire; such work may be seen at St. John’s
University, Shanghai, and in the American Board at Peking. But there
is another increasingly large class whose faith seems to be pinned on
a strange trinity—money, organization, and Americanization. The first
necessity for them is large and showy buildings, generally apart from
the busy city life, or at least on the outskirts of the city—this may be
all right in the case of boarding-schools, but for hospitals it renders
them practically useless. I have seen groups of residential premises
miles away from the work. The welfare of the missionaries is the foremost
consideration. The means of transport are slow, so that hours must be
spent every day by the workers getting to and from their work, and they
live a life wholly apart from the Chinese. The work is highly organized,
and they have much larger staffs than our missions provide, as they seem
to have unlimited means and men. Undoubtedly we err grievously in the
opposite direction: our missionaries have all far more work than they
can perform. Added to that, our missionaries have about one-third of the
holiday that the Americans do and less money to make the holiday a real
one. Our societies are all hard hit by the question of finance, but it
would be better to cut down our work rather than spoil its quality by
insufficient staffing and underpay.

The third point is Americanization. A large section of missionaries so
value their own culture that they believe they can do no better than try
and denationalize the Chinese, or Indians, or whatever other nations
they may be working amongst, and transform them into Americans. In the
case of China this seems to me a most disastrous policy, and founded on
serious error. The Chinese and British characteristic of reserve which we
consider a quality they consider a defect, and believe that familiarity
breeds not contempt but friendship. The breaking down of the reserve
in the Chinese character is only too frequently a breaking down also of
moral barriers—a disintegration of character, and opposed to the genius
of the race. The Chinese student returning from the United States is
often completely spoiled by having cast off the charming old-time manners
of his own country in favour of the hail-fellow-well-met manners of young
America. He cannot be accepted into a European or Chinese household on
his return without taking what seems to them unwarrantable liberties,
while he himself is sublimely unconscious of the effect produced. In the
same way in mission schools the students are encouraged to familiarity
with their teachers—as for instance in the case of mixed bathing in
summer resorts. The teacher and the taught are all put on the same level,
and the respect which we have been taught to consider due to age and
learning, ceases to exist. “Manners maketh man,” and the difference in
manners is one of the greatest bars to united work, which Christians of
all denominations are trying so hard to build up in China at the present
day.

To return to our brief stay at Shen Chow. It seemed an interesting
place with fine large shops, and we should like to have made closer
acquaintance with them. However, our boatman, who always wanted to
loiter where there was nothing to be seen, showed a sudden determination
that we should leave the town before sundown and reach a certain safe
spot to spend the night. As we were always urging him to hurry, we felt
obliged to give in, and reluctantly went on board. The Standard Oil
Co. is very energetic there, and has a large advertisement, happily in
Chinese characters, which are not aggressively ugly (like our Western
advertisements) all along the river-front, the last thing we saw as we
floated down stream.

Next day we shot the big rapid, and much incense and paper was burnt to
ensure our safety. Rain fell heavily in the evening, as it had so often
done during our journey. Before stopping for the night we came to a
custom-house, where our boat was thoroughly searched for opium. It meant
that at last we were come to a place where opium was strictly forbidden,
namely into the territory under General Feng’s jurisdiction. The Customs
officers, however, were most courteous, though thorough, and I believe
would have taken our word with regard to our personal belongings, but I
preferred that they should see we were quite willing to be examined.

At midday on the morrow we reached Changteh, and walked through wet
slippery streets a long way till we came to the C.I.M. house. Mr. and
Mrs. Bannan received us most cordially and invited us to be their guests,
as Mr. Locke (who had invited us when we were at Shanghai) had been
transferred to a school five miles down the river and was sure we should
prefer to be in the city. This was much more convenient, and we found a
week only far too short to see all the interesting things. We spent a
couple of nights at the school with Mr. and Mrs. Locke, and took part in
a Christian Endeavour meeting. This movement has proved very successful
in some parts of China, especially for training the women and girls to
take active part in evangelization. We went down the river in a minute
motor launch, which was very handy, especially as we had to leave at an
early hour to call on General Feng. I leave to another chapter an account
of him and the city, which so obviously bore his impress when we were
there. The level of Changteh is below the river-level sometimes to the
extent of fifteen feet; then the city gates have to be sandbagged to keep
the water out.

From Changteh we went by passenger boat to Changsha, and had two little
cabins which we converted into one for the voyage. The whole of the roof
was covered with third-class passengers and their belongings; at night
they spread their bedding, and in the daytime squatted about or wandered
round the very narrow gangway outside the cabins, a proceeding which left
us in a darkened condition. Yao managed to prepare us savoury meals in
some minute nook, having brought the necessary stores and a tiny stove
on which to cook them. The day after leaving Changteh we crossed the
wonderful lake of Tong Ting, a lake more than two thousand square miles
in extent during the summer, and non-existent in winter. This strange and
unique phenomenon is due to an overflow of the Yangtze, and in the summer
there is a regular steamship service across the lake, connecting Changsha
with Hankow, two hundred and twenty-two miles distant, by the river Siang
and a tributary of the Yangtze. Eventually they will be connected by a
railway, which is to run from Hankow to Canton, and of which the southern
part is already in existence—and also a short section from Changsha
to Chuchow; this is only thirty-eight miles and is mainly valuable on
account of its connexion with a branch line to the Ping Siang collieries.

Changsha is an important city, the capital of Hunan. It is large and
clean, the centre of considerable trade, and one of the newest treaty
ports, opened in 1904. The variety of its exports is interesting:
rice, tea, paper, tobacco, lacquer, cotton-cloth, hemp, paulownia oil,
earthenware, timber, coal, iron and antimony. I was anxious to buy some
of the beautiful grass cloth for which it is noted, and was taken by a
friend to some of the big shops, but found them busily packing up all
their goods, in case their shops should be looted by the approaching
Southern troops. Such doings are by no means uncommon, and all Americans
and Europeans seemed to take it as a matter of course. Arrangements were
being made to receive terrified refugees into mission premises, and the
Red Cross was extremely busy preparing for the wounded. The rumours as
to the Governor fleeing varied from hour to hour, and it soon became
plain that the city would be undefended. Our kind American hosts, Mr.
and Mrs. Lingle, were having little Red Cross flags made to put up as
signals on places of refuge, and he came in to tell us how the tailor who
was making them had just appealed to him for help: a retreating soldier
thought to make hay while the sun shone, and was taking possession of the
sewing-machine, demanding that it should be carried away for him by the
tailor’s assistant. Mr. Lingle also prevented another sewing-machine
being stolen: evidently they were in great request.

No more striking proof could be seen of the progress of Christianity in
China than the difference of attitude shown towards missions in time
of danger and difficulty. When I first visited China a mission station
was the most dangerous place to live in; now it is the place of safety
_par excellence_, to which all the Chinese flock when they are in
danger. An interesting illustration of this took place last year. In a
certain district in Shensi a notorious band of robbers came to a Baptist
Missionary and a Roman Catholic priest, and promised to save the town
where they were working if they would procure for them six rifles. They
succeeded in getting the rifles, and took them to the brigands. When they
attempted to use them, the brigands found they had been tampered with,
and decided to loot the town in consequence. They respected, however,
their promise to the men who had brought them, evidently believing in
their good faith, and said they would spare all the Christians. The
problem was how to recognize them, for at once there were a large number
who claimed to be Christians. The robbers decided by looking at them who
was genuine and who was not. In cases of uncertainty they appealed to the
missionaries, who assure us that they had proved quite accurate in their
judgment. Christianity _ought_ to mould the expression of a face.

There are many missions of various nationalities at Changsha, and
all seemed extremely prosperous, most of them in large and handsome
buildings. The girls’ school, of which our hostess was the head, stood
in spacious grounds outside the city wall, and near it is the imposing
pile of the Yale mission buildings. The mission started in 1905 when
Dr. Gaze began the medical work, a hospital was opened in 1908, and the
first students graduated in 1912: it is essentially a medical school,
and differs from others as regards the staff in having short course men
sent out from Yale University as volunteers. They are not necessarily
missionaries. There are fine laboratories for research work, a large
new building for science students, splendid up-to-date equipment in
all branches of medical and surgical work, schools for male and female
nurses, beautiful houses for the large staff of professors, library, a
really beautiful chapel, lecture rooms, dormitories, playing grounds,
tennis courts; in fact everything that can be desired on the most lavish
scale, the greatest conceivable contrast to every other mission I have
seen in China. There is a special ward for Europeans. The new Rockefeller
hospital in Peking is to outshine it in beauty, I believe, but will find
it difficult to equal it in all-round equipment, and of course will lack
the acreage, which makes many things possible in Changsha which are
impossible in Peking. “The Hunan Provincial Government has met all the
local expenses of the College of Medicine and the Hospital for the last
six years.” The Rockefeller Foundation has provided funds for salaries of
additional medical staff, and Yale Foreign Missionary Society academic
teachers and a few of the medical staff. The fees of the patients cover
about half the running expenses of the hospital. “The campus of Yale in
China in the north suburb is on rising ground between the railroad and
the river, where its buildings are conspicuous to travellers arriving
by either train or steamer” (_see_ _Yale College in China_). The only
drawback seems to be lack of patients.

One of the finest pieces of mission work I saw was Dr. Keller’s Bible
School, which is supported by a Society in Los Angeles: it is for the
training of Chinese evangelists for all missionary societies, and they
divide the time of training between study and practical work. They looked
a fine body of men, and have been greatly appreciated by the missionaries
for whom they have worked. Application for their help is made to the
school, and they do not go unasked into any district occupied by a
society. When asked to conduct a mission, a band of men is sent, and
their _modus operandi_ is as follows: they make a map of the district,
taking an area of about three square miles—and after a day spent in
prayer the men visit systematically every house in that area and try
to get on friendly terms with old and young, giving them some portion
of Scripture and inviting them to an evening meeting. As soon as the
people have become interested, evening classes are started respectively
for men, women, boys and girls. The children are taught to sing, as they
very quickly learn hymns and like to practise the new art both early and
late. The special feature of their work is that they go as _Friends_ to
the people, and as their own race; and it is to Chinese only that many
Chinese will listen. The character of many a village has been changed,
the missionaries say, by these national messengers, where they themselves
have been utterly unable to get a hearing. This is an important feature
of present-day missionary enterprise, and is the link between the Past
Phase of _foreign_ evangelization and the Future Phase of _home_ Chinese
mission work. Changsha is full of foreign workers of many nationalities,
but mainly American.

Dr. Keller’s work has been greatly strengthened in the eyes of the
Chinese by the noble example of his mother, whose spirit has impressed
them far more than any words could have done. When her son was home for
his last furlough, he felt that he could not leave her alone, an old lady
of eighty, recently widowed, and he decided to give up his mission work
for the time being. She would not agree to this, but decided to go out
with him and make her home in China for the remainder of her life. Who
can gauge the sacrifice of giving up home and friends at such a time of
life and going to an unknown land where men spoke an unknown tongue? She
had to undergo very great hardships at first, and now after four years
the solitude presses heavily on her. At first she was able to read a
great deal and lived in her books; but she told us that now her sight is
failing the time seems very long.

We visited a Danish mission of some size, Norwegian Y.M.C.A. workers, and
a Russian lady in charge of a little blind school. She had had no word
from home for the last two years, but was pluckily sticking to her task.
The London Missionary Society has withdrawn from work in Hunan, but the
Wesleyan Mission has a high reputation under the charge of Dr. Warren. He
is one of the men who takes a special interest in the political side of
Chinese life, and gave me much valuable information about the different
parties. Just now the changes going on are so rapid that anything one put
down would be out of date before it could be printed. The secret forces
at work keeping up hostility between North and South were everywhere
attributed to Japanese militarism: but it is only too obvious that the
present Government is not strong or patriotic enough to deal with the
situation. It is hard enough to carry on good government in so small
and stable a country as our own, so need we wonder at the inability to
transform the whole political and social system of the vastest country in
the world.

Meanwhile the civil war is a very curious one, and happily does not cause
the bloodshed one would expect, considering the forces engaged. We had
some talk with our British Consul about the dangers of the road, as we
wanted to go south to visit the sacred mountain of Hengshan and thence to
cross fine mountain passes into the neighbouring province of Kwangshi.
Mr. Giles told us that it would be hopeless to attempt it, as an English
steamer had been fired on the day before in the very direction we must
take. The Northern and Southern troops were in active fighting, and every
day they were coming nearer to Changsha. The Governor would probably
desert the city when the Southern army had driven back the Northern, and
no one could say what would happen! After so discouraging a report it
may seem strange that Mr. Giles said there was to be a reception at the
Consulate next day, in honour of the King’s birthday, to which he invited
us.

War seemed infinitely remote from the charming gathering, where all the
foreign community met in the sunny garden on the river-bank. English
hospitality is very delightful so far away from home, and the cordial
spirit of the host and hostess lent a special attractiveness to the
occasion. I was particularly pleased to meet a Chinese friend there,
Miss Tseng, who invited us to visit her school next day. In Chapter VIII
I have tried to give an account of this famous scion of a famous race.

With all the educational and religious and philanthropic institutions
to be visited, it was most difficult to find time to see the monuments
of the past, but we determined not to miss the beautiful golden-roofed
temple, dedicated to Chia Yi, a great statesman of the second century
B.C. It is now transformed into a school, and we saw the boys drilling;
but they seemed an insignificant handful in those noble courtyards, and
there were no signs of proper or even necessary equipment.

Our time at Changsha was all too short, and it ended very pleasantly
with an evening spent at the Consulate. By this time many of the Chinese
were in full flight, because of the coming Southerners, and the city was
supposed to be set on fire by incendiaries at 8 p.m. Our steamer had
retired into the middle of the river, because of the rush of passengers
clamouring to be taken on board, and the captain was unable therefore to
fulfil his engagement to dine at the Consulate. We were promised a fine
sight of the blazing city—only happily the show did not come off—from
the Consulate garden across the river. We stayed there in the delicious
summer air till it was time to go on board, and found it difficult not to
step on the slumbering people who covered the deck when we reached the
steamer. At midnight we slipped down stream, following in the wake of the
departing Governor. The Southern troops came in a few days later, but
without the looting and fighting which has so often happened in similar
circumstances.




_Chapter VII_

_Present-Day Ironsides—General Feng Yu Hsiang_

    “There shall never be one lost good! What was shall live as before;
      The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;
    What was good shall be good, with, for evil, so much good more;
      On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven the perfect round.

    All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist;
      Not its semblance, but itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power
    Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist
      When eternity affirms the conception of an hour.
    The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard,
      The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky,
    Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard;
      Enough that He heard it once: we shall hear it by and by.”

                                                             —BROWNING.


_Chapter VII_

_Present-Day Ironsides—General Feng Yu Hsiang_

[Illustration: INN LAMP.]

China is a land full of surprises, and at the present day there is
an amazing variety of individual efforts for the regeneration of the
country by her patriotic sons and daughters. In some ways the chaotic
political state of China makes these individual efforts possible where
perhaps a more settled government would not admit of them. For instance,
each province is governed by a military or civil governor, or both; and
within a province may be found large territories practically controlled
by some autocratic military official, the presence of whose army is the
potent warrant for his wishes being executed. In the province of Hunan,
roughly speaking in the centre of China proper, is such an area, of which
Changteh is the army headquarters.

Having travelled for many weeks through districts infested with robbers,
where law and order are mainly conspicuous by their absence, where the
land is one great poppy garden for the opium trade, it came as a shock of
surprise and delight to enter a district where we found the exact reverse
of these things.

In 1918 there was fighting between the forces of the North and of the
South throughout this district, and as the Northern forces were defeated
and the City of Changteh captured by the Southerners, General Feng was
sent from the neighbouring province of Szechuan to re-take the city. He
had not only defeated the Southern Army there, but had treated them in
an entirely new way. Feng disbanded the Southern troops after disarming
them, and presented each officer with ten dollars and each private
with five dollars, so that they might be able to return to their homes
without resorting to pillage, the source of so much sorrow in China. The
General led his troops to Changteh and found that the Southern forces had
withdrawn, so that he entered the city unopposed, though by no means with
the goodwill of the inhabitants. They were only too familiar with the
tyranny of ordinary Chinese troops; for it is not by foreigners only that
they are evilly spoken of, but by all Chinese.

In the two years which had elapsed since then this attitude was
completely changed, for the army was paid regularly and not obliged to
prey upon the habitants for sustenance, the strictest discipline was
observed, and no soldier was allowed to loaf about the streets. The city
itself underwent a wonderful purification: gambling dens, opium-smoking
halls, houses of ill repute were swept away, and theatres transformed
into schools; now a woman even can walk the streets day or night without
fear. A notice of three days to quit was given to the above-mentioned
houses, and the order was no dead letter. Severe fines were inflicted on
traffickers in opium. The streets of the town became wonderfully clean in
another sense of the word; the General is so particular about this that
if any of the army mules or horses pass through it they are followed by
scavengers in order that no traces of their passage may remain; for as
there is no wheeled traffic and the streets are extremely narrow there
are no side-walks. There are notices in the centre of the streets with
regard to the rule of the road, but this is too recent an innovation to
be quite understood as yet. Everywhere one is confronted with signs of
the General’s determination to raise the _moral_ of the people. When
he closed the opium dens he opened refuges for the cure of the smoker,
instead of putting him in prison, as is done in certain parts of the
North. The patient was photographed on entering and on leaving (à la
Barnardo). General Feng punishes with death the soldier proved to have
been trafficking in the sale of opium, while the civilian is punished by
being flogged and paraded bare-backed afterwards through the streets,
preceded by a notice board stating his offence. The city gaol is the
only one in the country which has a chapel and the missionary bodies
in the town have charge—a month at a time by turns. As you pass along
the streets your eye is attracted by posters of a novel kind. They are
pictures descriptive of evil habits to be shunned: a cock is vainly
sounding the réveillé to which the sluggard pays no heed; the vain woman
on her little bound feet watches from afar the industrious woman doing
her task in cheerful comfort with normal feet, and so on. In odious
contrast to these pictures are the British and American cigarette posters
to be found all over the country, and I was told that one of the leading
Englishmen in the trade said regretfully that he thought they had done
the country no good turn in introducing cigarettes to China. They are
considered a curse by thoughtful Chinese, and at the request of the
officers, the General has prohibited the use of them in the army, though
there is no embargo on other tobacco-smoking.

[Illustration: A Man of Mark.

_Page 158_]

Another noticeable feature of the city is the open-air evening school,
the sign of which is a blackboard on a wall, sheltered by a little roof
which may be seen in many an open space. When the day’s work is over
benches are produced from a neighbouring house and school begins. The
General has established over forty night schools dotted along the five
miles of the city on the river-bank, besides the industrial schools
open during the daytime. We visited one large training school for girls
and women, which he has established and supports in order to promote
industry, and to which workers from the country districts are welcomed.
They have six months’ training and one meal a day gratis, and they are
taught weaving, stocking-making (on machines), dressmaking and tailoring,
etc., and the goods turned out find a ready market. The instructors
are all very well paid, and the work done is thoroughly good, despite
the disparaging remarks of an elderly overseer who evidently had the
conventional contempt for the Chinese woman’s intelligence.

General Feng is a firm believer in women’s education, and has established
a school for the wives of his officers, to which they come not altogether
willingly, I fear. The unwonted routine and discipline are naturally a
trial, especially to women no longer in their _première jeunesse_; and
despite the fact that he succeeded in persuading a highly-trained and
charming woman to come from the north to take charge of it, there have
been many difficulties to surmount. She lunched with us one day and told
us an instance of this which makes one realize the situation: a certain
lady resented the fact of her teacher being the wife of a veterinary
surgeon (lower in rank than her husband), and disregarded her continual
efforts to curb her feminine loquacity and make her attend to her
studies. Finally there was a complete rupture between the ladies, and the
unwilling pupil indignantly left the school. The teacher pondered over
this and could not bear the thought of having quarrelled with a fellow
Christian. She determined to try and make it up, so she called upon the
lady, who refused to see her. Nothing daunted, she tried a second time,
and again the lady was “not at home,” but sent her husband to speak to
her. The teacher explained to him all she felt—he was so moved by her
appeal that he fetched his wife, a complete reconciliation took place,
and she returned to school.

The General has a short religious service in his own house every Sunday
morning for these ladies, at which he, his wife and some officers are
present, and at which he invited me to speak.

Having described in outline the changes effected in Changteh by General
Feng, it is time to try and describe the man himself and his past life.
He is tall and powerful, with a resolute, masterful air as befits a man
who is ruler of men; but his ready smile and the humorous twinkle in
his eye reassures the most timid. He was born in 1881 in the northern
province of Nganhwei, of humble parentage, and had no educational
advantages. He has amply made up for this, however, having a keen sense
of the value of knowledge and giving to others what was not given to
him. The study of English is being eagerly pursued by himself and his
officers, and he will soon pick it up if he comes to England, as he
wishes to do.

General Feng entered the army as a common soldier, and in 1900 was
present (on duty), but only as an onlooker, at the Boxer massacre of
missionaries at Paotingfu. This was his first contact with Christian
people, and it made a deep impression on him. This was strengthened by
further contact with a medical missionary, who cured him of a poisoned
sore and charged nothing, but told him of the love of God, Who had sent
him to heal the sick. There is no doubt that medical missions have
been one of the best possible instruments for winning the Chinese to
Christianity, and one cannot but regret that it is now becoming necessary
to abandon the practice of non-payment, except for the most necessitous
cases, on account of the terrible rise in prices and the lack of funds
for the upkeep of our hospitals. However, it appears to be inevitable.

The turning-point in General Feng’s life took place when he was stationed
at Peking in 1911, having already risen to the rank of Major. He was
feared and disliked by officers and men on account of his fierce temper,
which caused him to strike them when he was angry, while his wife also
had to submit to being beaten when she displeased her lord and master
in the most trivial details. There was as complete a change in his life
as in Saul’s when he obeyed the heavenly vision. This was the result
of attendance at a meeting by Dr. Mott, and he was assigned to Bishop
Morris’s care for further teaching. The strongest influence brought to
bear on him at that time, however, seems to have been that of Pastor
Liu, of the Wesleyan Mission, who became one of his best friends. It is
not easy at the age of thirty-one to conquer an ungoverned temper and
tongue, but the fact remains that he is now adored by his troops, and
that he has never abused or ill-treated his wife (a General’s daughter)
since becoming a Christian. How difficult this is may be judged by the
fact that one of the finest characters among the Christian Chinese
clergy, Pastor Hsi, says that he found it so impossible to conquer the
lifelong habit of abusive language to his wife that he had to make it a
special matter of prayer before he could succeed, though he was such a
saint. The question of bad language throughout the army is remarkable; an
American missionary, after spending a year constantly in and out amongst
the men, said he had heard _none_, for the General has a wonderful way
of getting his wishes observed, and has been instrumental in winning the
bulk of both officers and men to Christianity. He has compiled a treatise
on military service, redolent of Christian morality, which every one of
his men can repeat by heart. This treatise has been taken as the basis
of General Wu Pei Fu’s handbook (a friend of General Feng), who quotes
Cromwell’s army of Ironsides as a model for the soldier’s imitation,
though he does not profess to be a Christian! It may be thought that the
Christianizing of the army is of doubtful reality, but this is certainly
not the case; for in the first place the amount of Bible teaching they
are undergoing is far beyond what would ordinarily be the case here at
home before admitting candidates to Church membership, and the only
difficulty about this teaching is to find the teachers necessary for such
numerous candidates: they are keen to learn about Christianity. Before
baptism they have to submit to a searching examination of their character
and behaviour, and must have an officer’s certificate to that effect. In
addition each man must sign a statement promising to spend time daily in
prayer and study of the Bible, to seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit
and to obey the teaching of the New Testament.

Nevertheless, they have been baptized by hundreds, so that already more
than a third of the army (and I think the proportion must be much greater
now, as over one hundred were postponed as being not sufficiently ready
some time ago) are already members of the Visible Church.

Many of the men have been won to Christianity by a tragic happening of
last year. Dr. Logan, of the Presbyterian Mission, was shot by a lunatic
whom he had been asked to examine medically in the General’s room. The
General flung himself on the man to disarm him and was himself shot in
two places. A colonel who rushed into the room on hearing the shots, saw
both Dr. Logan and the General on the floor, and asked the latter, “Shall
I take the man out and shoot him?” but the answer was “No.” The man,
not being responsible for his actions, was only to be put in a place of
safety where he could harm no one. Dr. Logan died in about an hour, but
the General was taken to hospital and recovered. A day or two later Mrs.
Logan was told by one of the officers that the lunatic was in fetters and
that he had struck him in the face, and was surprised at her indignation
on hearing it. She at once went to headquarters where the lunatic was
confined and ordered the astonished officer in charge to take off all
the man’s fetters. He naturally demurred, but on hearing who she was, he
exclaimed: “This man murdered your husband, and do you mean to say that
you want us to treat him kindly?” The result of her deed was that a large
number of the soldiers decided to become Christians: they had expected
severe reprisals to be demanded and said that no religion could compare
with a religion producing such deeds as Mrs. Logan’s. The impression made
was profound and widespread.

All we saw and heard of General Feng made us anxious to see so remarkable
a man, and the missionaries very kindly arranged an interview which took
place about 8.30 a.m. The General and Mrs. Feng received us in their
simple home at headquarters, and we had a long talk about China and other
matters, for he is an ardent patriot and shares the universal anxiety
about the disturbed state of China and the Japanese invasion. On a later
occasion he asked what our dresses were made of, and on hearing that it
was Chinese silk, he was pleased and said they were very nice. Our hats
he did not like, and said we ought to wear straw ones like his wife.
She put hers on to show us at his request, and of course we made such
polite remarks as the occasion demanded, so he sent out an orderly at
once to buy two, and we had to put them on, while our own hats were put
in a paper parcel for us to take home! The hat was certainly much more
suitable to the time of year than the one I was wearing, and he asked
if I should take it back to England: he had been trying to persuade the
other _taitais_ (ladies) to wear them, but without much success. Most
of the Chinese are extremely keen to have European things, and European
headgear as seen in the bazaars is too appalling for words. Often a
charming Chinese costume is completely spoiled by some garish woolwork
cap, with artificial flowers of varied hues.

The General believes in five things:

      (i) Religion;
     (ii) Work;
    (iii) Education;
     (iv) Discipline;
      (v) Cleanliness.

These things are not a matter of theory, but of practice. He has taken
heed to the words, “Ye that love the Lord HATE EVIL,” and while he
puts down all that appears wrong, he is equally energetic in promoting
good things. For instance, he requires every officer as well as every
private to learn a trade or profession, so that when he leaves the army
he will not remain unemployed. We went all over the army workshops
where many trades are represented, and found them extremely clean,
well-ventilated and attractive. There is a ready sale for all their
products and they make all the army clothing, towels, socks, boots, etc.
Each soldier is required to do one year’s training in the workshops for
seven hours a day. There is also educational work in full swing and
special three-months’ courses of instruction. To these one private and
one lieutenant are elected for each company at a time, and although no
promotion follows special success in the examinations, they are taken
cognizance of when there is a question of promotion. Much attention is
paid to athletics and physical drill, and efficiency is the hall-mark
of every department. They looked to my unprofessional eye the smartest,
best-turned-out soldiers in China, and the record of certain route
marches I dare not set down because they make too great a demand on our
belief, whose physical endurance is infinitely less. Woe betide the man
on whom the General’s eagle eye detects lack of polish or scrupulous
care in his accoutrements! To anyone who knows China, I must seem rather
untruthful in stating that bad smells do not exist in the camp, and every
bed is clean and provided with a mosquito net.

It must be added that the army is not all concentrated at Changteh, but
there are various camps scattered over the area governed by General Feng,
the population inhabiting which is estimated at seven to eight million
people. He is aided in the city by an efficient young magistrate who is
in sympathy with his aims, and who was appointed by him. He certainly
knows how to select men, and is training a valuable body of officers to
occupy—one cannot but hope—a much wider sphere of service for the country
later on. The achievement of the last two years makes anything seem
possible to one who has seen it, and one of the Britishers who has been
in close touch with him while he has been in Changteh remarked on the
striking development of the General’s personality during that time. He
is a practical democrat, shares teaching and work with his men, and has
actually succeeded in getting his officers to take part in the meanest
work, such as water-carrying, to show that there is nothing contemptible
in honest labour. The General attends the English class on Thursday
evenings with the other officers and shows no official arrogance of any
kind. At the Sunday services he retires to a backless bench at the far
end of the hall like any “Tommy.”

This brings me to one of the strangest experiences of my life. The
evening after our interview with the General he sent one of his officers
to ask me to give the address at the military service on Sunday morning.
As he knew I was no missionary and no one could have told him that I
had ever preached or was accustomed to speaking in public, the only
explanation of the invitation seems to be his intense desire to seize
any possible chance of stirring his people to fresh endeavour. His
interpreter would act as mine unless I preferred having my own. Having
received my answer in the affirmative, next day the officer came again to
know what portion of Scripture I wanted read in order that it might be
well read. The service took place at 7 a.m. on a lovely summer morning,
and was held in a big barrack-like hall with a platform at one end with
pots of flowers on it; a gallery ran round the hall, in which was the
military band, and beyond that some of the officers’ wives and children,
including the General’s family. The Chief of Staff conducted the service,
which was just like an ordinary Nonconformist service at home, beginning
with the National Anthem by the band. The prayers were led by officers
among the audience and were short and impressive, the singing of the
hymns was hearty, led by a choir, and many of those present had Bibles
as well as hymn-books so as to follow the lesson. A boys’ school of
officers’ sons sat at the front. It was a wonderful inspiration to speak
to such an audience as they listened in rapt attention to the story of
the “Contemptible Little Army”, and other historical instances of God’s
use of weak things to confound the mighty; every now and then a little
burst of irresistible applause broke from them, and quite a number were
taking notes all the time. What would I not have given to speak in their
own tongue! for it is just paralysing to speak through an interpreter,
and weak words become weaker still. The text comforted my despair.

After service we went with the General to breakfast: it was a
cheerful meal, as he is full of humour and devoted to his family.
The characteristic Chinese love of children was very evident in the
involuntary caresses he bestowed upon the little girls while he was
talking, as they nestled against his arm. Rather an amusing instance of
his humour was told us by our charming Irish host, a tall, spare man.
He was crossing the drill ground one day with a short Chinese officer
to speak to the General, who was standing chatting with a group of
officers on the further side. As the General watched their approach he
made a remark which was greeted with laughter. Our host’s curiosity being
aroused, he inquired from one of them afterwards what the joke was. “The
General said, ‘Don’t you think the missionary looks as if he ought to be
the officer and the officer the missionary?’” The breakfast was entirely
Chinese with the exception of knife, fork and spoon being provided for
us, but we pleased our host by our use of chopsticks instead. After
breakfast we had a little rest in Mrs. Feng’s room, and all the rooms we
saw were characterized by simplicity, extreme tidiness and cleanliness.
We noticed a bright little servant girl, and heard she had been rescued
from slavery some years ago by the General’s wife.

General Feng gave me the photograph of himself and family, and at my
request wrote the name of each of the children. His own name is at the
right hand of the photo.

What struck me most at the ladies’ meeting which followed was the fact
of the General coming to it and taking part, showing his real interest
in woman’s welfare; it is remarkable how keenly he is working—not only
for the army, but for women in general as well as in particular, and for
the whole population of his district. He and his officers have pledged
one another to work for the evangelization of the civil population, each
one making it a rule to try and win at least one of the official class
per annum. In this may be seen the instinct for the continuation of a
Christian policy if the Christian army should be ordered elsewhere.

As we were taking leave of the General at the close of the meeting,
he said to me: “I think you will speak to my officers this evening,”
which meant the five o’clock service for officers. I felt overwhelmed,
as the two services had been very exhausting, but my host suggested
that I should give them an account of what we had seen of the Chinese
Home Missionary Society, and of the work amongst the aborigines, and
the General said that would interest them very much. He said that the
morning address had been not at all like what he expected, but did not
explain the statement. Of course, it was impossible to decline, and I
took for granted there would be only a small gathering—perhaps two or
three dozen men. At five o’clock we were back at the hall and there
must have been from two to three hundred officers present and many
ladies in the gallery. Again the same quiet spirit of worship and eager
expectancy dominated, and the expression of those upturned faces will
never fade from my memory, as I told the story of the missionaries coming
to barbarian Britain, delivering their Message and leaving the living
Message to fulfil itself, the British Church in its turn becoming the
missionary to China, who, in its turn, is now called to take up the task,
and is beginning to do so. After the General had seen us out of the hall
he turned back, and did not rejoin us for some time, the reason being
(as I learned, after leaving Changteh, from my interpreter, who was
the friend of the General’s interpreter) that he went back to urge the
audience to pay heed to the thing which had been said, and to say a few
words about the speaker. In the whole matter he acted with such striking
self-forgetfulness and tact as I have rarely, if ever, met.

It was not to be expected that such a happy state of affairs would be
allowed to continue more than a limited time; for the forces of evil do
not accept tamely such a defiance. As in the old days at Ephesus, seeing
the source of their wealth attacked, there were plenty of people ready to
counter-attack by fair means or foul. A few months later General Feng got
his orders to leave Changteh. No sooner had he done so than the Southern
troops swarmed back into the undefended city. The houses of ill fame were
at once reopened, under military sanction, with soldiers posted at the
doors. A time of much unrest followed, and no one knows from day to day
what will happen. There is great disorder among the ill-paid troops,
and shooting among themselves took place in the streets. An officer was
shot close beside the mission premises where we stayed. The schools have
been closed and the opium dens and theatres reopened. The Southern troops
now hold all the important part of the province, a serious loss to the
Government at Peking. Business is at a standstill.

Since Sun Yat Sen has been chosen President of the Southern Government,
there is a split among the Southern provinces. The man who was looked
on with such hopes by many as a sincere patriot, has proved very much
the reverse; he is now a fresh source of discord, and bitter fighting is
going on between the provinces of Kwang-Tung and Kwang-si.

And what, meanwhile, of General Feng and his army? They were ordered to
go to Chu-ma-tien in Honan. This is on the railway line from Peking to
Hankow, and is some hundred and fifty miles north of the latter. It was
formerly a place of no importance, but since the coming of the railway
its trade has increased rapidly, and it is becoming a big market for the
agricultural produce of the surrounding country. As there is a large
depôt for railway material and water tanks, it is no doubt important
that the place should be properly guarded. But Honan is under military
governorship, and the present Tuchun, General Chow Ti, is a bitter
opponent of General Feng, and is working hard to get rid of him. He
has succeeded in getting the Provincial Assembly to accuse Feng to the
authorities at Peking of illegally extorting money at a place called
Hsuchow. There are at present three military leaders at Peking, who so
far have refused to act in this matter, and they are trying to bring the
two generals to an agreement. They are afraid of fresh conflicts arising
in the province. The Honanese are not the easiest people to govern,
the province is densely populated. “They are of an independent turn of
mind,” says one who knows them well, “and will not brook reproof; very
conservative, they do not welcome foreign innovation.”

Meanwhile the troops are starving and urgent demands for arrears of pay
have no effect upon the War Lords at Peking.

What the outcome of the controversy will be, time will soon reveal.




_Chapter VIII_

_The New Chinese Woman—Miss Tseng, B.Sc. (Lond.)_

    “There can be no question at all that the education of women
    is, in every grade, quite as important as the education of
    men, and that educational training is quite as important in
    the case of women teachers as in the case of men. Indeed in
    view of the fact that character is largely determined in the
    early years and by the influence of the mother in the home, the
    education of women acquires a place of first importance.... All
    the women’s educational work in a district should be planned
    in co-ordination with the corresponding work for men and
    boys.”—_World Missionary Conference Report on Education, 1910._


_Chapter VIII_

_The New Chinese Woman—Miss Tseng, B.Sc. (Lond.)_

[Illustration: HAKKA BOAT AT CHAO CHOW.]

Unlike the women of other races of the East, the Chinese woman has always
shown a marked strength of character, and evidently, as Mrs. Poyser so
truly remarked, “God made ’em to match the men.” That the men did not
approve of this is equally plain, for, looking back some thousands of
years, we find the great Confucius teaching the best way of counteracting
this inborn self-will and strength of character.

“It is a law of nature,” he says, “that woman should be kept under the
control of man and not allowed any will of her own. In the other world
the condition of affairs is exactly the same, for the same laws govern
there as here.”

“Women are as different from men as earth is from heaven.... Women are
indeed human beings, but they are of a lower state than men, and can
never attain to a full equality with them. The aim of female education
therefore is perfect submission, not cultivation and development of the
mind.”

Not only Confucius spoke thus strongly about the education of women, but
all through the centuries Chinese writers of note refer to the subject
of woman’s duty and education, and her attitude towards man. This is
graphically set out in the important work, _The Ritual of Chau_—What a
revelation of Chinese home life it is!

“In conversation a woman should not be forward and garrulous, but observe
strictly what is correct, whether in suggesting advice to her husband,
in remonstrating with him, in teaching her children, in maintaining
etiquette, in humbly imparting her experience and in averting misfortune.
The deportment of females should be strictly grave and sober, and yet
adapted to the occasion; whether in waiting on her parents, receiving
or reverencing her husband, rising up or sitting down, in times of
mourning or fleeing in war, she should be perfectly decorous. Rearing
the silkworm and working cloth are the most important of the employments
of a female; preparing and serving up the food for her husband and
setting in order the sacrifices follow next, each of which must be
attended to. After them _study_ and _learning_ can fill up the time.”
This last detail shows clearly that it was no unusual thing for the women
to have a knowledge of literature, and there is no mean list of women
writers in the field of belles-lettres, while one even wrote on the
sacrosanct subject of dynastic history in the fifth century. The first
treatise on the education of women was written by a Chinese woman some
eighteen centuries ago, and it is rather interesting to see what her
ideal for womanhood was, and to compare it with the present-day ideal.
“The virtue of a female does not consist altogether in extraordinary
abilities or intelligence, but in being modestly grave and inviolably
chaste, observing the requirements of virtuous widowhood, and in being
tidy in her person and everything about her; in whatever she does to be
unassuming, and whenever she moves or sits to be decorous. This is female
virtue.” In the _Rules for Women_, written by Lady Tsao, the heading
of no less than five out of the seven chapters refers to the attitude
of woman towards her menfolk, which shows that she was wise in her
generation: and this work naturally became a classic and has been studied
by all succeeding generations down to the present day!

[Illustration: A Chinese Leader of Thought.

_Page 174_]

After this reference to the past, we come to a consideration of the
present-day Chinese woman, and it has been my good fortune to meet some
of the finest of the new school. They are taking a high place and winning
the respect and consideration not only of their own countrymen, but of
British, French and Americans by their ability, their singleness of
purpose and undaunted determination. In the law school in Paris lately
a Chinese girl took her degree; doctors who have studied in America and
England have attained great distinction in their homeland after their
return, and have overcome all the opposition aroused, in early days last
century, by their foreign training and innovations.

Chinese women have evinced a keen patriotic spirit, sometimes shown in
strange ways. When we were at Changteh they had demonstrated against the
Japanese aggression by cutting their hair short! This did not meet the
approval of the civil authorities, and they sent round the town crier,
beating his drum, to prohibit women from doing this, under pain of
receiving six hundred stripes! If the girls’ action was ill judged, it
meant at all events a great sacrifice, so the penalty seems severe.

Perhaps the best way of showing the new trend of thought is to give a
sketch of one of the most remarkable of the new generation, and who may
be known to some of my readers, as she spent five years in England and
took a London degree in science, with honours in botany, in 1917. Miss
Pao Swen Tseng belongs to one of the great families whose genealogies
have been carefully kept for the last twenty-five hundred years or so,
and whose notable men have left their mark on the page of history. In the
sixth century B.C. a philosopher of the family was one of the exponents
of Confucian teaching, another was a great general at the time of the
Taiping Rebellion and was largely instrumental in putting an end to
it. For these services he received a beautiful estate with buildings,
temple, lake and gardens in it from the Emperor, and also gifts from
the guilds of Changsha, in Hunan, where the estate is situated. Here
his descendant the Marquis Tseng lived, who became a well-known figure
at the court of St. James, being Chinese minister here and afterwards
at the Russian court. Even before he left Hunan—the most foreign-hating
province of China—he was an ardent student of the English language,
although he had no teacher and was obliged to study it only from most
inadequate books. The family library was housed in a larger building than
the family, which indicates the family tradition; but as may be supposed,
it was no easy task that the Marquis had undertaken. When he lived in
Peking he defied all precedent, and allied himself with the foreign
British community; although his English was naturally most difficult to
understand he persevered, and continually entertained Englishmen at his
house and received their hospitality in return. This was done contrary to
the strong feeling of opposition then existing at the court of Peking,
where no Chinaman, even in a subordinate position, would be seen in
company with a European or entering his house. I mention these facts
because they reappear so vividly in the history of his granddaughter, Pao
Tseng.

Miss Tseng’s education began at an early age: she had a tutor when she
was three years old and two tutors by the time she was five. No wonder
that she rebelled, and history relates that one day she took refuge in a
tree, from which she was finally cajoled by one of her Chinese teachers
to come down by promises which he forthwith ignored. It may be a source
of surprise that she was able to climb a tree, but happily for Pao Tseng
she had an enlightened grandmother, who, at a time when such a thing was
unheard of, had the strength of mind to save the girls of her family from
the torture and disablement of bound feet, knowing in her own person the
cost of such disablement.

At ten years old Pao Tseng was a keen student of Chinese history, and
the seed was sown, which later sprang up into an ardent patriotism and
desire for the ancient glory of her race to be restored. She injured her
eyesight by too close study, and two years later had become a Chinese
classical scholar, a feat of which it would be impossible for anyone to
realize the magnitude unless they knew something of the classics. She
then begged leave to go and study Western knowledge, and was sent to one
of the new Government schools at Hangchow, some thousand miles distant,
to reach which there was no railway in those days. The tone of the school
was so displeasing to her, that she soon left it and went to the (C.M.S.)
Mary Vaughan High School for girls, where she found a sympathetic friend
as well as teacher in the head mistress, Miss Barnes. In the turmoil
and distress of mind caused by the condition of her country she found
comfort in the study of the Christian faith and wrote to her father that
she wished to become a Christian. He was evidently a man of rare wisdom,
and stipulated that before taking so important a step she should study
the writings of its European opponents. It is strange to think of such a
child being set down to a course of Herbert Spencer, Frederick Harrison,
and other leading non-Christian writers: her views were not changed by
it. She again wrote to her father to this effect, and he gave his consent
to her open profession of Christianity, coupled with the wise advice
that she should become the best possible type of Christian. She decided
to join no particular sect, looking forward to the time when China would
have a church suitable to her needs and character.

In 1912 Pao Tseng obtained the family’s consent that she should go to
England for further training. She had accepted as her vocation the
call of her country to a life of educational work in China. Her family
would not allow her to go abroad without a guardian, and Miss Barnes
undertook the post, relinquishing the head mistress-ship of the High
School in order to do this. Pao Tseng entered the Blackheath High School,
and from there passed to Westfield College. It was at this time that I
had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, having already heard of
the impression she had made at the college. No one could be with her
without being aware of the deep seriousness of her nature, and she was
greatly liked by her fellow-students. Chinese girls always seem to get
on well in England, and to fit in easily with our idiosyncrasies. There
is nothing like the gulf between them and us which seems to separate
us in our ways of thinking and of looking on life from our Indian
fellow-subjects.

After taking her degree and studying educational methods and training
at St. Mary’s College, Paddington, she returned to China at the age of
twenty to begin her life work at her old home in Changsha, the capital of
Hunan.

When the monarchy was overthrown in 1911, the new republic confiscated
the property of many of the gentry, amongst others that of the Tseng
family, using the buildings as barracks for the troops: they caused great
havoc in them. It was only after much difficulty and many delays that the
family succeeded in getting the property restored to them, though a part
of it is still requisitioned for the soldiers, and a flimsy partition put
up to screen it from the rest. This might prove a danger to the school,
but so far, Miss Tseng told me, they had behaved extremely well, their
only misdeed being to cut down two trees. It was necessary to rebuild the
house for a school. The garden is really charming, in true Chinese style,
with carved bridges over the winding stretch of water, shady paths and
quaint rockery; dazzling golden orioles and kingfishers make their home
in the classic willow trees that overhang the lake, and the stillness
which broods over all makes it an ideal spot for study.

But study is not the only thing in education, and Miss Tseng has adopted
English ideals with regard to the value of sport in a girl’s education
as well as in a boy’s. Since my visit the stillness of the tiny lake
is joyously broken by girls learning the art of boating, under the
coaching of Mr. and Miss Tseng, and they have two boats. They also study
American games, and were recently challenged by a boys’ school to a
match at lacrosse. They had only been learning a very short time and
knew themselves too weak for their opponents, but a sporting instinct
prevented their declining the challenge. As may be supposed, they
sustained a severe beating, but bore it so gallantly that the onlookers
said that they were like the British: they had learnt to take defeat
smiling!

It is difficult to believe that some of these girls did not know their
alphabet two years ago; that discipline, as we understand it, was unknown
to them. They all learn English and some had got on amazingly well with
it. They have a “Round Table,” at which meetings all must take a share in
whatever is the subject under discussion: this is to teach them how to
take part in public meetings and how to express themselves.

The spirit of service is strongly developed. In a three days’ public
holiday the girls set themselves to collect money from their friends for
the famine relief in the north. Their aim was five hundred dollars, but
they collected double the amount. Christianity is taught as the basis of
social service, as it is at the root of this fine piece of educational
work. The whole staff is united in this bond, and they have already
succeeded in setting a new standard among the schools at Changsha.

In 1918 Miss Tseng opened her school, under the guardianship (if one
may so call it) of Miss Barnes, and splendidly helped by two of her men
cousins, whom I knew as fine students in London, and both of whom are
honorary workers. All the élite of Changsha were present, including the
Minister of Education, the British consul and the missionary community.
This was the planting of the mustard seed destined one day to grow into
a tree. There were but eight pupils, varying in age from fourteen to
twenty-two, a number which was increased fivefold in two years. As befits
a Chinese school, it has a poetic name, I-Fang—“The Garden of Fragrance,”
and the school motto is “Loyalty and Sympathy,” the two words by which
the philosopher Tseng had summed up the teaching of Confucius some two
thousand five hundred years ago.

It was at a garden party in honour of the King’s birthday held at the
British Consulate that we met Miss Tseng last summer, and she most kindly
bade us to lunch next day, and asked me to speak to her students. I
had no idea at the time of what she had done since we parted in London,
or even that she lived at Changsha. It was with a shock of delighted
surprise that we passed from the hot, busy, dusty street into the cool
loveliness of the garden. Our time was woefully limited, and I should
like to have sketched all day as well as talked, but there was so much
to see and hear that it is impossible to do justice to it in this brief
account. If the Tseng family can leave their impress on the charming bevy
of girls we saw, they will have rendered the greatest possible service
to their country, and I feel confident that such will be the case. When
I reflect on the state of unrest which existed during the birth of this
school and the masterly way in which Miss Tseng has overcome all the
difficulties of the situation, I find no words adequate to express my
admiration.

In another chapter I have dealt with the student movement, which produced
strikes all over the Chinese empire: not a school or university escaped
its influence. Miss Tseng explained to her students her feelings with
regard to the movement, and told them to reflect on the subject, and
discuss it among themselves before deciding whether they would strike.
She brought no pressure to bear on them, while very strong pressure was
brought to bear on them from outside, but their unanimous decision was to
“carry on,” and this school alone out of thirty-six in the city continued
its work steadily and continuously, while the others—both boys and
girls—were on strike. Miss Tseng wrote a letter to the _Central Chinese
Post_, a paper published in English, which won widespread admiration. The
editor of the paper wrote to her: “Allow me to congratulate you on the
sane and patriotic views which you hold, and on your splendid mastery
of the English language. Your letter is by far the best thing which has
appeared on the subject of the students’ boycott.” When it is considered
that it is written by one so young it is indeed remarkable, and I
make no apology for quoting part of it, with the explanation that the
mistress-ship to which she refers was one that she had been persuaded to
accept by strong governmental pressure—that of the first Normal School
for Girls: she soon found herself obliged to resign the post.

    To the Editor, _Central China Post_.

    DEAR SIR,—You would have known by this time the details of the
    extraordinary developments of the student activities in Hunan.
    Perhaps you would allow me the use of your valuable columns to
    make a few criticisms and an appeal in connexion therewith.

    The frank opinion, in Hunan at any rate, of every unbiased
    observer is that the primary wrong rested with the Provincial
    Government. As I have just sent in my resignation of the
    Principalship of the first Provincial Normal School for Girls—a
    post I was invited to fill by the educationists here only a few
    months ago—I feel I can speak more freely and with a certain
    amount of authority. The Government has neglected education
    so much that all the schools dependent on Government funds
    have been confronted with starvation and bankruptcy in growing
    proportions for the last two or three months. This absolute
    poverty has reduced the none too perfect education in Hunan to
    the mere shadow of a name. Satan always finds evil work for
    every idle hand, so no wonder discontents will foment.

    The actual thunderbolt came on the 3rd inst., when the
    Government interfered in the burning of Japanese goods by
    students. There in front of hundreds of students and thousands
    of onlookers, Chang Chingtang, the Governor’s brother, forbade
    the destruction at the eleventh hour. He struck with his own
    fist the secretary of the Chang Chun Middle School, who had
    dared to show impatience at the abusive language that was
    being poured out. At the same time his soldiers welcomed the
    students with the butt-ends of their rifles. Then of course the
    glove was down and the students took it up. All the pent-up
    hatred against the Government broke out with redoubled force.
    A secret meeting was held on the 5th among the students, and
    by Sunday, the 7th, all the schools excepting one or two began
    to disperse, declaring that they would never return till Chang
    Ching-yao is driven out of Hunan. To-day only the Fang Siang
    School and our School are in regular work. Even the Yale and
    Hunan Yale medical colleges are given official “holidays.”
    The Government has succeeded in wrecking the entire fabric of
    education in the most masterly fashion, that even surprised its
    ardent admirers.

    In view of the foregoing one cannot but deeply sympathize
    with the motive of the students, but their method of making a
    protest will, I am afraid, have certain undesirable effects.
    Etc. etc.

I was much struck with the frank, pleasant tone of the girls: some were
able to talk English. In connexion with the student strike a master of
one of the other schools said to one of the girls:

“Your Principal has managed splendidly to keep her students from
striking.”

“Yes, indeed,” she replied, “but our Principal did not _force_ us, we all
agreed unanimously with her not to strike.”

This detail is characteristic of both teacher and taught—Liberty and
Frankness. The Christian temper of “sweet reasonableness” irradiates
the place, but no one will be urged to become Christian. Brightness,
cleanliness and gaiety rule everywhere, and the dormitories and
classrooms are thoroughly attractive. What a pleasant sphere for any
English girl who goes as teacher there, and the growing needs of the
school demand such help at once; a B.Sc. is required, and none but highly
qualified teachers are suitable for such educational posts in China.

It seemed passing strange to realize that Changsha was the storm-centre
of fighting between Northern and Southern troops, and the very next day
the latter were expected to invade the city.

[Illustration:

    “Girls,
    Knowledge is now no more a fountain seal’d:
                                  Drink deep.”

_Page 184_]

[Illustration:

    “Nor soul helps body more
    Than body soul.”

_Page 184_]

It may be thought that educational work is specially suitable for Chinese
women, and perhaps something of it is already known in England, while
other forms of activity are less known and less approved, but from the
time of the opening of China’s doors to Western influence they have been
eager to seize the new opportunities, and have become an important factor
in the national life. “While not yet numerous, modern Chinese women,”
says Dr. Rawlinson, “are beginning to exert a tremendous influence”
(_China in Contemporaneous Literature_). The first woman’s newspaper
in the world was written and edited by Chinese women, and in Peking
the ladies of the gentry some nine or ten years ago organized a club
under the leadership of Princess Kalachin, called the “Women’s Mutual
Improvement Club,” and this is entirely unconnected with foreigners. The
special object of this club is discussion, and Chinese women have proved
themselves already to be excellent speakers, having very pleasant voices
and a good self-possessed manner, which inspires respectful attention.
They have appeared on platforms where such a thing would have been
scouted with horror not twenty years ago.

As doctors, Chinese women have already proved their efficiency, and
the names of Dr. Ida Kahn and Dr. Mary Stone are everywhere held in
high respect.[26] In the new Rockefeller Medical School at Peking women
students are admitted, and girls as soon as it was announced entered
their names. In various parts of China women are training for the medical
profession, as well as in Great Britain and America. I was greatly
impressed by the nurses also in various hospitals, especially those in
the Women’s Hospital at Swatow. There had been over a hundred and thirty
midwifery cases in the previous six months, and Dr. Heyworth told me she
had been able to leave nearly all of them to her Chinese assistants and
nurses. They are often sent for to visit outlying villages and they are
doing splendid work. What is everywhere the one essential is to have
thoroughly competent foreigners to train Chinese girls till such time as
native training schools in Western methods have been established.




_Chapter IX_

_The Youth of China_

    “Crabbèd Age and Youth
    Cannot live together:
    Youth is full of pleasance,
    Age is full of care;
    Youth like summer morn,
    Age like winter weather;
    Youth like summer brave,
    Age like winter bare.
    Youth is full of sport,
    Age’s breath is short;
    Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
    Youth is hot and bold,
    Age is weak and cold;
    Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
    Age, I do abhor thee;
    Youth, I do adore thee.”

          —_The Passionate Pilgrim._


_Chapter IX_

_The Youth of China_

[Illustration: GRASS RAINCOAT.]

The Spirit of Youth is one of the most marvellous possessions of
humanity. It is not possessed by young people in all countries, nor
indeed by all the young in any country, or at any given time. We heard
a good deal about Young Turkey and Young Egypt, but neither of those
countries have the Spirit of Youth, nor had China until quite recently.
Of all the poets Shakespeare speaks most of this Spirit of Youth, for he
lived in a time when it shone forth resplendent, spelling high endeavour,
the joy of life, ardour, courage, chivalry, beauty, faith. It has its
drawbacks, of course—conceit, wilfulness, turbulence, impatience of
control, of law, of order. But it is a splendid thing, and the salvation
of a weary world.

    “There are four seasons in the mind of man:
    He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
    Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
    He has his Summer, when luxuriously
    Spring’s honey’d cud of youthful thought he loves
    To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
    Is nearest unto heaven.”

This spirit of youth has taken possession of the student world of China
to-day, and is mainly responsible for the rapidly changing mettle of the
whole race. It is frequently in sharp antagonism to the traditions of the
past, as for instance with regard to age itself. The reverence due to
age is a great quality and has been of untold value to the Chinese, but
carried to the extreme of veneration it has arrested progress and has won
a false value.

In the old days all positions of importance were given to middle-aged or
elderly men—men of weight. Such a fact as Pitt becoming prime minister at
the age of twenty-four would have seemed to them grotesque and foolish in
the extreme. That a young man should be a man of weight was unthinkable.
But now you find young Chinamen in most responsible posts, as their
nation’s representatives at the court of St. James, or in Paris or
Washington. It is a young Chinaman who by his eloquence and personality
wins the admission of China to the Council of the League of Nations.
They are men who have all had Western training, but that alone does not
account for their influence.

From one end of China to the other I found that the temper of the youth
was wholly unlike what it was ten years ago (on the occasion of my last
visit), although the change had already begun then. Not only is the
veneration for the aged changing, but also the veneration for antiquity,
which has been one of the greatest hindrances to progress in the past.
Everywhere the young people are taking upon themselves an active share
in local affairs and also in affairs of the State. Sometimes this shows
itself in rather an amusing way and sometimes with regard to matters of
vast importance. Of the latter it will suffice to mention the decision
of the Republican Government to make Confucianism the state religion. No
sooner was the announcement made than from every quarter the Government
was bombarded with telegrams from bodies of students, protesting “we will
not have Confucianism as a state religion”; and they won the day.

As an instance of the authority of students in local matters, I came
across a college, a member of which had gone to study in Japan. He
was engaged to be married to a Chinese girl, but fell a victim to the
charms of a Japanese girl and married her. On his return he decided,
after some difficulties with the family of his fiancée, to marry her
as his secondary wife. Then the students were all up in arms. He had
committed the crime against patriotism of marrying a Japanese, and now,
forsooth, he would add another by taking a Chinese girl as secondary to
the Japanese! They not only forbade him to do this, but also fined him a
heavy sum of money and _made him pay it_.

The Japanese question has roused every student community in this empire,
and they have allied themselves with merchants on the subject—an entirely
new combination. They have not merely shown their feelings by extensive
looting and destruction of Japanese goods, and boycotting of them in
the markets, but after the Treaty of Versailles they rose as one man to
execrate the officials who were concerned with the betrayal of Chinese
interests to Japan, and demanded that they should be dismissed from
office. All the schools and colleges went on strike and hundreds of
students were imprisoned. In vain the Government tried to put down the
movement, but it was so universal, and had so won the support of the
shopkeepers (these put up their shutters with notices that this was done
in support of the students’ demands), that the Government was again
forced to give way and punish the offenders.

While much is known here of the divided political condition of China,
but little is heard of this important solidarity. The importance of
such occurrences lies mainly in the fact that these are the outward
signs of a “Tide of New Thought,” as it has been called in Chinese. This
new vitality is pulsating more or less through the people of the whole
empire, but especially and with intense vigour in the student world.
It has driven them to violent and undisciplined action, so that many
people see in it the germs of revolution. But one must not forget that
the political Revolution has already become an accomplished fact, and
that the new movement is mainly one of educational and social reform, and
that the political faith of students is Republicanism. The anti-Japanese
feeling is due to the determined infiltration of the Japanese into the
country, and more especially their action with regard to Shantung.
Japan lost a priceless opportunity of making alliance with China and
vindicating herself before the world, when she broke faith with regard
to giving back Tsingtau to China at the end of the war. This has had
important results on the student movement by leading the students to
rapid concerted action and showing them their power to control the action
of Government. However, this is but a temporary matter, while the recent
literary and social renaissance is likely to have a permanent influence
on the national life.

The effect of the new movement on literature of all kinds is particularly
interesting. The daily press and the reviews and magazines are full of
new thoughts and reflect all the currents of opinion of the Western
world. The critical spirit leaves no problem unstudied; the political
agitation in India, the Sinn Fein outrages in Ireland, the labour
troubles in England are accurately reported in the Chinese daily press.
Judgment is being passed on the results of our civilization, and the
future shaping of China’s destiny depends largely on that judgment.

One of the most momentous days in all the history of the race was when
the Dowager Empress decided to sweep away the old system of education
after her great defeat by the Western Powers in 1900. It was an amazing
_volte-face_ on the part of one of the most bigoted autocrats that the
world has seen. She saw that the root of all her difficulties in finding
the right kind of officials was lack of well-educated persons in the
social class from which such officials are chosen, so she issued an edict
in 1904 which bore the stamp of Yüan Shih-k’ai and Chang Chih-tung,
destroying at one blow the old educational system. The document is
curious and even a little pathetic. She ordained that graduation in the
new colleges should be the only way to official position, pointing out
that colleges had been in existence more than two thousand five hundred
years ago, and that the classical essay system was quite modern—only
having existed about five hundred years.

She also gave orders that more students should be sent to Europe and
America—some were already going there—instead of to Japan, whose
revolutionary influence she mistrusted.

The greatest difficulty in effecting so great a change was to find
teachers fitted for the task. The seed had happily been planted during
the last half-century in mission schools, and from them a certain small
supply of teachers was obtainable. Chang Chih-tung considered that three
months’ study of textbooks would make a competent teacher! Another
immense difficulty was to find funds for so vast an enterprise. The
gentry were urged to found and support schools, and an official button
was granted to those who did so. Chang Chih-tung worked out the whole
scheme: colleges, schools of various grades, curricula, regulations as
to discipline, etc. etc. All these things are set forth in five official
volumes, and thus the national system of education was inaugurated.
Obviously so great a change could not be wrought without many
difficulties cropping up. The main difficulty was lack of discipline, and
that is the case to-day; the student considers that he, or she (for the
same spirit pervades girls’ schools), ought to dictate to the master,
instead of master to pupil. In the early days of the system it was the
easier for the pupils to succeed, in that so many of the teachers were
wholly inexperienced and were afraid of losing their posts unless they
gave way. Although the above edict professes to train men in China itself
for official positions it was supplemented by provision for sending
students abroad, in order that they might be the better able to bring
their country into line with Western civilization.

With the coming of a Republican Government further progress was made
in the educational system in connexion with change in the language,
of which I have given details in Chapter II. The most important fact
with regard to the educational change is that it found a prepared soil
in which to grow, and there is reason to believe that the roots are
striking deep. The rapidity with which Japan adopted Western ideas is
known to every one, for it has enabled her to become a world power by
developing her army, navy and commerce in an incredibly short space of
time. She has used Western science as the tool to secure military glory
and territorial expansion. These are not the things which appeal to the
Chinese. Their renaissance is on wholly different lines. Their gaze is
turned inward rather than outward, and the things of the foreign world
interest them mainly as shedding light on their own problems. This is the
one characteristic of the old Chinese temper which remains unchanged.
The fierce ray of criticism is turned on their own past; history, art,
philosophy and literature are now being sifted to see what is their
actual value. But the chief object of study in China to-day is man
himself, his progress and welfare, both in this world and in the next.[27]

The decay of the old religions must have a great influence on student
life, and the fact that a large proportion of the temples are now used
as school buildings is proof—if proof be needed—that the use for them as
temples has gone. Many people have thought it a great step in advance
that the old superstitions are being swept away; but what is to take
their place? The Chinese are feeling after a more philosophical form
of religion. Men like Yen Hsi Shan spend time daily in meditation and
worship of the one true God. The tide of rationalism and positivism in
Europe has swept even as far as the shores of China, and has influenced
many thoughtful men. In an important journal called _La Jeunesse_, a
well-known Chinese writer, Peng-I-Hu, says, “I am not a member of any
church, I am not interested in protecting any organization or advocating
the excellency of any particular religious faith. But I have often felt
that religion contains within it the highest ethics, and so I think that
if we want imperfect mankind to make progress towards perfection, we
cannot lightly set religion aside.”

Large numbers of students have come into contact with Christianity, and
at this moment more than ever before they are critically examining what
it is worth. By means of the literature dealing with the higher criticism
(which is to be found in all the cities of China), they are familiar
with the problems confronting students in the West: and these problems
interest them immensely. But in the long run it is not so much theory as
practice that will influence young China in its religious beliefs.

In the past, Chinese students have mainly got their Western education in
Western schools and colleges, where Christian doctrine is an important
part of the curriculum. They have had the opportunity of studying the
lives of their teachers and judging the practical value of Christian
ideals. Where use has been made of such institutions for political or
commercial propaganda, the result is obvious; but this has been the rare
exception in the past, though there seems to be a growing tendency to
it in certain recent institutions. Governments which complain of the
difficulties which missions have brought into international relations,
have often in the past made use of these same difficulties to promote
their own interest. No more cynical statement could be made than that of
the German Government with regard to Shantung about the murder of two
German missionaries: “La Providence a voulu que la nécessité de venger le
massacre de nos missionaires nous amenât a acquérir une place commerciale
de première importance.” The Chinese have long memories, and they will
not forget such things. It is foolish to expect people to discriminate
accurately between the actions of a foreign power and the missions of the
same race.

The worst indictment that can be made against the missionaries and
their institutions, in my opinion, is that their teaching has been in
some cases narrow and in many cases superficial for want of sufficient
teachers and educational requisites, due to lack of funds. The strain
on missionary societies to supply these funds has been far heavier than
the general public is aware of, and the need has been only met by a
small section of the Christian community. Had the community as a whole
realized their responsibility, China would have had better and more
thorough teaching: even now it is not too late to help her in the great
educational enterprise on which she has embarked. America is alive to
the fact, but England is not. One great step in advance is, however, in
course of achievement, and that is the union of the greater number of the
different societies in the work of central colleges and universities,
which is a great gain, both from the educational and the religious point
of view.

At the present time the one vital requisite for China is to have a
thoroughly efficient training in all branches of education, especially,
of those men who are to be her leaders. Statesmen, lawyers, doctors,
engineers, bankers, men of science, literature and art are needed,
and all must, above all things, be men of high purpose and spotless
integrity. It is the corruption of men in authority which has brought
China to so low a condition, and which hinders her taking her place among
the ruling nations. Obviously she is not in a position to-day to do
this without help. The students in training to-day number roughly eight
millions, not to mention the vast number of boys employed in agriculture
and industry, who also have a claim to teaching. One interesting feature
of the student movement is the sense of obligation now growing up amongst
the students to share their knowledge with their poorer neighbours. Night
schools are being established by them (in which they teach) not only for
poor children, but also for farmers, labourers, etc., in all parts of the
country. They also give popular lectures on such subjects as hygiene,
patriotism and politics.

During the terrible famine raging last winter, numbers of students
did relief work, and not only helped the sufferers, but had valuable
practical training in organized social service. Another feature of the
movement is this social service; here again trained leaders are urgently
needed. The experience which we have so painfully gained during the last
century we ought surely to share with them.

There are very few purely Chinese educational institutes of the highest
grade. The most important of any is without doubt the National University
of Peking, founded twenty-three years ago. Under the influence of the
present Chancellor, Tsai Yuanpei, it has become an efficient school and
centre of the new educational movement. He has collected a staff of men
trained in Western thought to replace the former inefficient elderly
staff. The present Minister of Education, Fan Yuen Zien, made a trip to
Europe and America in 1918, and as a result of it has initiated a scheme
for having special scholars from the West to become annual lecturers at
the university. The first appointment was John Dewey, from Columbia,
U.S.A., then Bertrand Russell, from Cambridge, England, and now it
seems likely that Bergson will be invited from France and Einstein from
Germany. This suggests the spirit of the new learning. Such a Minister
of Education has much influence, and is promoting a liberal educational
policy. The university has departments of Law, Literature and Science.
Its influence is felt not only in Peking, but throughout the country.

The Hong Kong University is of considerable importance, but as the
teaching is entirely in English, that is still a bar to many students.
It was started by Sir Frederick Lugard, and with the generous help of
many Chinese and a wealthy Parsee merchant, not to mention the grant of
a magnificent site by the Government of Hong Kong, the university was
launched in 1912. It was established mainly for the use of the Chinese,
but open to “students of all races, nationalities and creeds,” and was
to promote the “maintenance of good understanding with the neighbouring
Republic of China”—so runs the Hong Kong Government ordinance of 1911.
The first three chairs established were Medicine, Applied Science, and
Arts. In order to meet the needs of men adopting an official career in
China, the requisite Chinese subjects are included.

A new university has been already planned by a Chinese merchant at Amoy,
Mr. Dan, and I visited the site on which it is to be built. The donor is
a man of humble birth. He has already founded boys’ and girls’ schools
near Amoy on most generous and modern lines, of which further details are
given in the following chapter. Although not a member of any Christian
body, he is most generous in lending the buildings for Christian
conferences and allowing absolute liberty to Christian teachers in his
schools to give religious teaching to the scholars out of school hours.

Having referred to one of the most important non-religious educational
institutions for the Chinese, I will mention the most important
missionary ones. Of these St. John’s College, Shanghai, is one of the
oldest and most efficient, and is responsible for the training of some of
the leading men in China to-day. Recently the college has added Medicine
to the subjects taught in what has now become the St. John’s University.
It grants degrees, and is in close touch with American universities.
There are two other American denominational universities, and five union
and interdenominational universities, also many important colleges, such
as the Anglo-Chinese College at Tientsin, the Trinity College at Foochow,
the Canton Christian College, the Hangchow College, the Shanghai Baptist
College, etc. etc.; but what are these in comparison with the millions of
China?

One very grave drawback to the present state of educational affairs is
that our British universities have made no attempt to recognize the
degrees and diplomas granted by these colleges and universities with the
exception of the Hong Kong University, which has a special charter to
that effect. Whereas in America every university of importance welcomes
Chinese students for post-graduate study and grants them diplomas, not
one of our universities does this. All the students study the English
language, and every year sees them more prepared to make use of training
in our universities; but those educationists who know China best are
convinced that it is far better for her sons and daughters to study in
their own land till they have got a good sound general education, and
then come to England, say at the age of about twenty; they will then be
able to gain much more from what they see and learn than they could do
at an earlier age. With a mature judgment they will not be so apt to get
false impressions, as they are otherwise likely to do, and will know how
to select from the wealth of knowledge to which they have access.

Nowadays the question of child labour is being considered, and this is
the more important because factories are springing up everywhere. Field
labour is hard on child life, but not nearly so injurious as factory
life. A large part of this industrial expansion is American and European;
therefore it is a grave responsibility for such firms to ensure that
the Chinese shall see Western industrialism at its best, especially as
regards the welfare of children and women.

It would be neglecting a matter of great potential importance to the
future of young China if the history of the Scout Movement were omitted.
Curiously enough it seems to have been started at New York, by the
Chinese Students’ Club, in 1910, and from there to have been carried to
China itself about a couple of years later. In 1915 there was a special
rally of scout troops from Canton and Shanghai, in which three hundred
boys took part, and Chinese boys figured at the great scout Jamboree
in England in 1920, when twenty thousand boys of all races met in one
great Brotherhood. The movement has been so far mainly promoted by
missionary institutions, who have wisely recognized its attractiveness
and importance to Chinese boys. The great difficulty has been to find
suitable scoutmasters, but time should mend this. The Scout Rule is the
same here as elsewhere, and membership is open to every class of the
community. Its international value is a matter of no small importance.

A natural question arises in every one’s mind with regard to the
possibility of maintaining the same high spirit in a troop of Oriental
boys as in an English troop, where tradition already helps this so
tremendously. I make no apology for quoting a striking illustration from
a recent magazine article of the fact that the Scout spirit of honour,
of preparedness, of active goodwill and of physical fitness is found
in Chinese scouts. “The young captain of the ‘soccer’ team was visibly
nettled. The game was a stiff one. His team were all, like himself,
Chinese boys at the Griffith John College, in Central China. But a
forward had ‘muffed’ an open shot at goal and a half-back had ‘funked’
tackling a big fast forward of the opposing team, while one or two of the
opponents had run perilously near to fouling.

“So his nerve had got ‘rattled.’ One of the English masters was watching
the game. He was also Scoutmaster of the troop in which the Chinese boy
was a scout of some standing. He saw the boy fast losing his temper.
Suddenly, in a momentary lull in the game, the master from touch whistled
the refrain of the Scout Call.

“In a flash the Chinese boy-captain realized the childishness of his
action and recovered himself. His face broke into its old customary
smile. With a laugh he rallied his side and swung forward with them. They
won the match.” (_Outward Bound._)

To sum up the main points of the student situation: their actual demands
at the present time are for self-determination, self-government and the
abolition of the Tuchun system, namely the military government of the
provinces. If these are their demands, it is well to consider what they
have already accomplished: they have created a student organization, with
unions in every part of the country; they have broken down sex prejudice
in an extraordinary way; they have aroused the interest of the masses of
the common people; and they have proved strong enough to alter Government
action. These are things which certainly justify their title to serious
consideration of their demands.

There is a wonderful spirit of hope and courage growing up, and it is
worth noting that this new nationalism has been singularly free from
the outrages to be found in popular movements in the West. The natural
ebullience—to use an ugly but expressive word—of youth has on the whole
shown itself wiser and more keen-sighted than could have been expected
under the circumstances, and gives great hope for the future. The special
stress laid on social service and voluntary work is of great promise, and
missions may justly claim that it is the outcome of their work for the
sick, the insane, the blind, the deaf and dumb, the orphans and the poor.
They have put an ideal before the race, and the young are accepting it.

[Illustration: A medical student.]




_Chapter X_

_Some Chinese Seaports and Commerce_

    “The problems of the Pacific are to my mind the world problems
    of the next fifty years or more. In these problems we are, as
    an Empire, very vitally interested. Three of the dominions
    border on the Pacific; India is next door; there, too, are
    the United States and Japan. There, also, in China the fate
    of the greatest human population on earth will have to be
    decided. There Europe, Asia and America are meeting, and
    there, I believe, the next great chapter in human history
    will be enacted. I ask myself, what will be the character of
    that history? Will it be along the old lines? Will it be the
    old spirit of national and imperial domination which has been
    the undoing of Europe? Or shall we have learned our lesson?
    Shall we have purged our souls in the fires through which we
    have passed? Will it be a future of peaceful co-operation, of
    friendly co-ordination of all the vast interests at stake?
    Shall we act in continuous friendly consultation in the true
    spirit of a society of nations?”—GENERAL SMUTS.


_Chapter X_

_Some Chinese Seaports and Commerce_

[Illustration: RAIN AT AMOY.]

Last year I went down the China coast twice from Shanghai to Hong Kong,
and it is a most interesting trip, especially if you stop at the ports
and see their multitudinous activities. Their variety is most striking:
no two are alike, and even the sails are different in every port down the
coast.

I have already spoken of Hangchow, capital of Chekiang, so the next on
my list is Wênchowfu, in the same province. The approach to it is up
a lovely creek and river, as fair a scene as can be imagined. When I
looked at it in the evening light from the top of a hill, the wealth of
vegetation and the network of river and canals for irrigation show how
rich the land is; the waterways are also the roads by which the district
is most easily visited. Besides lofty trees, there were clumps of bamboo,
which seem to be used for every imaginable purpose. They grow an inch in
a night, and it is usual for bamboos to grow thirty inches in a month:
this is their average height, but some varieties grow to 120 feet. Then
they put out numerous shoots and the main stems harden. The delicate
shoots are eaten like asparagus, and the seeds are also used as food:
there is a Chinese proverb that they are specially numerous when the
rice crop fails. The stem is high and hard and jointed: one joint is big
enough to make an excellent bucket, another will be used for a bottle or
a cooking vessel, and the outer shell is so siliceous that it acts as a
whetstone.

On reaching Wênchowfu I took a ricksha and went in search of the
missionaries. Though an unexpected guest, I received a friendly welcome
from Mr. and Mrs. Slichter, of the China Inland Mission, and they took
me to see the city and surroundings. It is a treaty port, facing the
Eastern Sea, and its streets are bright and clean, full of attractive
shops. Inlaid soapstone is one charming industry: the silks manufactured
here are fine and costly, two or three dollars per foot. The people
are brusque and independent in their manners, but very responsive
to missionary work, and they become staunch and loyal adherents to
Christianity. We visited an interesting temple put up recently by the
local trade guilds to two officers who refused to acknowledge the
Republic. These guilds are thoroughly democratic and date from time
immemorial: they are still all-powerful in China and regulate trade
throughout the empire, despite the changing times. Every self-respecting
merchant belongs to one. The guilds are now showing signs of dealing
with the price of labour, which is a highly significant fact. They do
not brook Government interference with their members, of whom they take
a sort of paternal care.[28] These guilds are not only of great value
to the Chinese, but also to foreigners, who can apply to their members
either directly or by agents, called compradores, belonging to the same
guild, whom foreigners can employ to transact business for them. In
Canton there are no less then seventy-two guilds.

We went to visit an English United Methodist community, but as it was
Saturday afternoon we found no one at home. They have a large work
in a hundred and fifty stations, but only one European worker! They
also have a big hospital, but their one and only English doctor had
been absent two years on furlough, leaving it in charge of two Chinese
doctors: they have no English nurse. It is really deplorable to see such
a condition of things and a slur on England’s good name. As a contrast
we found excellent work both as to numbers and quality by the Chinese,
of whom the C.I.M. have three hundred voluntary workers in their hundred
and sixty-eight stations. Their evangelists give one week per month of
service without payment, and the local institutions pay their salaries.
The Christian Endeavour is a particularly strong branch of the work, and
has produced a body of capable workers, one main object of the society
being to train men, women and children to take part in Christian service
of some kind. Bible schools are another strong point of the work here,
and the interest shown in Bible study augurs well for the future of the
mission.

It may be thought that I have said a great deal—too much in fact—about
mission work in this book, but that is inevitable, because the reforms
initiated in Chinese life are practically all due to missionary activity.
The education of the poor and of women, the care of the sick, the
blind, the insane, were all started by missions, and they are the main
agencies in undertaking relief work in famine and plague measures,
even at the present day. While the people of England sent out thirty
thousand pounds for famine last year, large additional sums were sent
out by the missionary societies, of which there is of course no official
recognition. Happily England still retains some modesty with regard to
her generosity.

My next halting-place was Foochow; this visit was one of the most
delightful events of the trip. The coasting steamers cannot go up the
river, so it is necessary to tranship on to a launch at Pagoda Anchorage.
We had spent more than six hours waiting to cross the bar, and it
was a lovely sight at dawn to see all the myriads of fishing-boats;
as we came slowly up the river they looked like flocks of birds with
widespread wings. It was nine miles up to the city, and as we reached a
stopping-place I inquired from a fellow-passenger if it were the place
for me to get off, but was told the main landing-stage was further up.
Before reaching it a pleasant young Chinaman asked in excellent English
if he could be of service; having heard me mention the C.M.S., said he
belonged to it. He was most helpful, took charge of my luggage, escorted
me to the office where he was employed, telephoned to Trinity College
to say I had arrived, got tea, and finally set me on the road with a
guide. Mr. L. K. Wang certainly was a credit to his school. I met my
kind hostess, Mrs. Norton, on the road to meet me with her servant,
having already sent him down three times that morning to look for me. The
arrival of steamers is a most uncertain business.

Foochow is a treaty port and of no great antiquity: it was founded
in the fourteenth century and was opened to foreign trade in 1861.
The population is reckoned from six to eight hundred thousand, and it
is the headquarters of an ever-increasing number of foreign firms in
consequence of its growing trade. The tea trade is the most important.
The city lies on both banks of the river, and there are two long bridges
called the Bridge of the Ten Thousand Ages connected by a little island,
leading from one part of the city to the other. We took about an hour in
swift-running rickshas to go from the college to the centre of the city
on the further side of the river to visit Miss Faithfull-Davies’ school.
It was just breaking up for the summer holidays, as also Miss Waring’s
girls’ school, which we visited another day; but we saw in full swing
schools for the blind,[29] which seem to be admirably conducted, and an
orphanage, where there was an elaborate plant design in the garden made
by the boys. I asked if it was the name of the school, but was told it
was the date of “the day of shame,” namely of the Japanese triumph; it
is striking to see how deeply this is felt everywhere and that it should
show itself in such a manner.

[Illustration: Storm-Driven Boats.

_Page 209_]

It rained and rained and rained at Foochow, and the floods rose high
round the garden, which is situated on a hill, till we could no longer
go through the main entrance. It was dreadfully disappointing, as it put
all excursions out of the question. However, the days flew past with
great rapidity, and I went on visiting hospitals and schools; the school
of sericulture was interesting, and we saw the various processes. On
leaving, the director paid me the compliment of offering me a handful
of worms! One of the most interesting forms of lacquer work, for which
Foochow is famous, is that done on silk. Bowls are made of it and are as
light as a feather and flexible. They take about eight to twelve months
to make and are wonderfully resistant to water and heat, so that they
can be boiled without injury. Other beautiful lacquer things are made
on finely carved wood, and the lacquer is most lovely in colour when
gold and silver dust are used. They wrap the articles up in the softest,
toughest, thinnest paper I have ever seen; it feels like silk.

It was a matter of continual interest to me to be living in the middle of
a college, and to see the four hundred boys and youths at work and play.
Trinity College is so called because it is part of the Dublin University
Fukien Mission, and was the result of the Pan-Anglican Conference in
London, 1908. The three schools already existed and were combined to form
this college in 1912; a beautiful chapel was also built, a gymnasium,
houses for the masters, and a vernacular middle school in memory of the
martyr, Robert Stewart. The spirit of the place was fine, and I once
again realized how far ahead the mission field is in the spirit of unity
and progress, when the headmaster asked me, woman and Nonconformist, to
address the boys in the chapel: it was an inspiring audience.

I began to be afraid as the floods continued to rise that it would be a
difficult matter to leave Foochow. In order to reach the shipping office
(to take my passage) we had to go through the streets in boats, and
actually through a garden to the window of the office. Boys were having
a great time punting precariously on doors, which served as rafts, and
headlong plunges into the water were greeted with shrieks of laughter. I
left next day, with the water still rising, and was truly sorry to say
good-bye to my friends and Foochow.

The launch took me rapidly down stream to the steamer _Haiching_ which
was due to sail at dawn, and the storm clouds and driving rain formed a
fine background to the encircling mountains. All down the China coast
the scenery is wild, and innumerable rocky islands make navigation very
dangerous. The captain beguiled us at meals with stories of the dangers
we were encountering in this “dirty weather.” When the weather is bad
in the Pacific it alters all the currents round the coast, although
the surface may look smooth. At one point he used to allow a margin
of seven miles to round certain rocks, yet found himself one day just
shaving round them: after that experience he allowed ten miles. The
weather is continually wet and foggy in these seas, but this season was
exceptionally bad, and for the first time in his experience there had
been no cargo from Foochow.

The boat bobbed up and down like a cork. There was a fine mascot on
board in the shape of a black sow. She was very clean and very dainty,
with an appetite for chocolates, and oranges, which she required to
be peeled. She had been five years on board and had gone through the
campaign, when the ship visited Basra and other places on war duty.
The captain was warm in praise of his Chinese crew, preferring them to
all other nationalities: they do their work well and contentedly and
require no bullying. A voyage of twenty-four hours brought us to smooth
water outside Amoy, and the cook from the English Presbyterian ladies’
house came at 6.30 in a sampan to take me ashore, for there is no
landing-stage. It was still raining and very hot.

Amoy is a most extraordinary place, with round black rocks like puddings
in every direction. One of the features of the place is the little
graves, just like plates on the surface of the ground, due to the
curious way they deal with the dead. After they have been buried for a
certain length of time, they take up the coffins and carefully count the
bones that none may be missing and put them in a jar with a lid on: it is
this lid which shows when the jar is put in the earth.

I found my kind hostesses overwhelmed with work, but they nobly made time
to take me to see the various schools and colleges, and also a visiting
missionary took me across the bay to visit some alms-houses (built by a
Chinese lady) and also the first Chinese church built in Amoy. The pastor
took us by a delightful paved pathway to see a noted Buddhist shrine. I
have occasionally met Buddhist present-day saints, but here I saw one in
the making. He is enclosed in a hole in a rock and is locked in, as if
in a cage; once a day his food is brought and we saw a monk unlock the
door and put it in, speaking no word. The embryo saint must never speak.
It takes several years of this stultifying life to attain sainthood. A
much more attractive Buddhist was one of the attendants at the temple, on
whose head I observed the marks of branding. I asked our guide to inquire
how he had endured the torture, and his face quite lighted up as he
replied: “Your Christ felt no suffering on the cross, nor did I for the
joy of winning salvation.”

A charming Chinese secretary, Mr. Wang, showed us over the Y.M.C.A.,
which has the most picturesque building imaginable amongst the black
boulders, to one of which there is a bright red paved causeway. Mr. Wang
took us into the Chamber of Commerce, where we met two Edinburgh trained
engineers who are engaged on a scheme for sanitation and a new road.
Almost every city in China now has a Chamber of Commerce: this is quite
a modern innovation and is a Government concern under the Ministry of
Commerce. Only rich merchants can belong to them because the fees are
so high. They are not very popular among the people because of their
attitude during the student strikes; but they have a certain value for
general trade purposes, although the guilds are much more important.

I had pleasant evenings at our consulate and at the postal
commissioners’, making the acquaintance of the British and American
colony. Their gardens were gay with flowers. But again the rain came
down, and when we visited a Chinese school at Chien Be our day was rather
spoilt by it. Mr. Wang borrowed a little steam launch to take us there,
as it is a considerable distance away. He told us how Mr. Dan had made
a fortune in the Straits Settlements, where he had seen much of the
British and had conceived a desire to imitate their philanthropy. Having
had little education as a boy he decided to build schools and finally a
university on European lines. He was his own architect, and had succeeded
in building spacious and well-planned school house, dormitories, etc.;
he is now putting up a similar school for girls. At present they are
housed in a neighbouring village, while Mr. Dan and his family live in a
cottage in the simplest manner possible. It is really a fine place and
most generously supported in every way. The salaries of teachers are
from twenty-five to thirty-five dollars, whereas in the missions they
receive five dollars. This is one of the new difficulties confronting all
missions: the salaries of their workers must be quadrupled in order to
approach those of Government and other employees.

I left Amoy in pouring rain and had a good little voyage to Swatow on a
most comfortable steamer, reaching it at 6 a.m. Here again one has to
go ashore in a sampan, and the ladies sent their cook in one to fetch
me. The English Presbyterian Mission has charming quarters, their only
drawback being that they are too near the execution ground, and they may
have houses built in front of them. At present they have a lovely view
over the bay. Dr. Heyworth has charge of a nice big women’s hospital,
where there is an admirable Chinese staff of nurses. It is an infinite
pity that there should be so small a European staff—only a man and a
woman apiece for the two hospitals, and they have in addition to train
their own staff. Miss Paton has charge of the girls’ school, and I
must again note how such busy workers found time to give me the most
delightful hospitality. Of course there are European hotels in Amoy,
Swatow and Foochow, etc., for there is an ever-increasing number of
foreign merchants in these cities, but I have had the good fortune to
stay with missionary friends, so cannot speak of the hotels from personal
experience. It makes travelling for foreigners, however, much simpler
than it used to be, and a trip along the China coast is a delightful one,
for the scenery is most beautiful and there are all kinds of interesting
places to visit—when it does not rain!

Dr. Heyworth took me for an excursion by rail up to the town of Chao
Chow, stopping on the way to visit a Chinese family, who have beautiful
ancestral halls and some of the finest modern stone carvings in the
architecture of these buildings. The stone is green, and the effect of
the carving is heightened by cunning touches of green and gold paint.
We went by chair across the ricefields from the railway to the village,
about two miles distant. The rice was being hastily cleared from the
stone threshing floors where it had been husked, on account of a lowering
sky, and the village was humming like a busy hive of bees. Mr. Tan and
a cousin met us on his threshold, and it was a revelation to see this
perfect type of a Chinese country house. The restrained beauty of detail
was great; for instance, a large courtyard had an orange curtain as a
canopy, casting a subdued golden light over the tall earthenware tubs,
from which stately lotus blossoms and leaves reared themselves. The
ancestral shrine faced this courtyard and the tablets were of choicest
lacquer, surrounded by handsomely carved furniture. Mr. Tan’s grandfather
built this family shrine, and it took ten skilled sculptors thirty years
to accomplish it. There were bronzes and a wealth of artistic things
reflected in the marble floors, the only jarring note being the European
lamps and chandeliers. After being introduced to the ladies of the family
we were taken to call at two houses, where we made the acquaintance of
other members of the family. The most noticeable feature of these houses
were the porcelain decorations of the roofs. All sorts of blossoms, rose
and white and other colours, stood out in delicate tracery against the
sky. These porcelain decorations are a speciality of southern Chinese
art, and on the ancestral temple at Canton are most elaborate groups of
figures and even landscapes. Panels of open-work pottery are let into the
walls.

Mr. Tan took us to see a school supported by his family where a hundred
bright smart-looking boys were hard at work. He has a large business in
Singapore, and it is a curious fact that from Swatow and district goes
forth a continuous stream of colonists to the Straits Settlements, Hong
Kong and elsewhere. They always return with accumulated wealth. Swatow
itself is the fifth largest trading port of China, and has a population
of some ten millions behind it, for which it is the natural outlet.

Mr. Tan took leave of us at the Baptist Chapel, where we received a
very friendly welcome. The Southern American Baptists have a great
many village stations and about fifty workers, not counting the
Chinese staff—a great contrast to our English missions! They do mainly
educational and evangelistic, also some medical work. In Swatow they
have a hopeful field for social service, but as they live on the further
side of the bay I had not time to go across to see their fine buildings,
schools, hospital, etc.; they propose building a big church in Swatow.
The American Government has established cinema lecture courses for
Chinese communities, and they get the missionaries to use them in order
to make known American trade and commerce, and American life in general.

We returned by chair to the railway and were met at Chao Chowfu by Dr.
Wight. It is a station of the English Presbyterian Mission, but he
was the sole European representative there at the time. No doubt the
Chinese workers are thereby obliged to take more responsibility and work
than would otherwise be the case, but really it is too hard on the one
Englishman, and how can a hospital be satisfactorily run on such lines?

There was a severe earthquake some years ago which brought the church
and hospital buildings to the ground, but happily all the patients
were rescued in time. We saw over the new hospital, which seemed well
planned and in good working order. The city needs such a hospital, and
one regretted to see the American Mission Colony across the river, so far
away from the busy haunts of men. The bridge was as fascinating as it was
curious—large masonry piers, with stones reaching from one to the other
some fifteen to eighteen feet long. Shops ply a busy trade on the piers
and a big shady tree grows out of one of them. In the centre of the Han
River there is a wide bridge of swaying boats connected on either side by
a stone stairway with the adjacent piers. On the river we noticed most
picturesque boats with threefold sails; these belong to the Hakka people,
an indigenous race, quite different from the Chinese, who live further
inland.

The streets of the town are most attractive, full of amusing shops, and
we noticed that private houses had little doorways for their dogs: some
of these had suspended doors, so that the dogs could push their way in.
As there is a population of some three or four hundred thousand in Chao
Chowfu, with a hundred and eighty villages in the adjacent district, it
is a busy place; and there are sixty to seventy schools in it. One most
interesting Buddhist temple we visited, in which a stone monument has
been put up by the city in honour of Dr. Ross and Mr. James for their
work during a cholera epidemic.

We returned next day to Swatow, where the guide-book tells you there is
nothing to see. On the contrary, I found a great deal to see under Dr.
Whyte’s guidance. A temple was being redecorated with beautiful paintings
of most delicate and imaginative workmanship all along its walls. The
tireless skill and industry of the artists filled me with envy. The
trades of the place were fascinating; as for instance the soldering of
pans with holes in them. The mender has his boiling metal in a portable
heater and handles it with a glove, dabbing little patches round the
hole till it is filled up. While watching with absorbed interest I felt
a stealthy hand taking a few stray cash out of my pocket, but the thief
was so inexperienced that when I caught his hand he dropped the cash
into mine! Another interesting but rather hot sight was the blowing of
glass lamp-chimneys. Yet another less pleasing industry was the canning
of lychees; about a hundred dirty little girls are employed in it. I
will draw a veil over this, or no one would eat the delicacy, which I
had greatly enjoyed up to that time. A vision of Tiptree flashed across
my mind: it would be a beautiful thing to have Tiptree in China. The
fruits at Swatow are so lovely: to see the stalls piled up with pomeloes,
pineapples, peaches, lychees, bananas, dragon’s eyes and other fruit make
one’s mouth water. Equally beautiful—though horrible in smell—are the
fish stalls, but here the names are quite beyond me.

One afternoon we had an amusing ride through the ricefields, where the
process of harvesting was in full swing. The vehicle for such travel is
a comfortable wicker chair to hold two persons (first class), or four
(second class) in a less comfortable chair. The chairs are on runners, on
a light railway line; they are pushed by swift coolies, so that they go
at a good pace. Extra cash = express speed!

We met a few missionaries here on their way for a summer holiday to a
health resort, but it takes time and money to reach any such place, and
travelling up-country here seems very fatiguing, especially with slender
means. I regretfully parted from the congenial group of missionaries who
had conspired to give me such a pleasant time, and set off with several
ladies for Hong Kong.

It is always delightful to me to stay there; it is one of the most
beautiful spots in the world, but it makes me feel inordinately proud of
being British. It is a feather in our cap that the Chinese love to come
and live there. When it was first ceded to Britain in 1841 its native
population was 4,000 (including the leased port of Kowloon, across the
bay); in 1911 it was 444,664 Chinese and 12,089 other nationalities—that
is a remarkable record for seventy years. We have 4,673 British military
and naval forces there. It is the greatest shipping and the greatest
banking centre of the East. No contrast could be greater than that
afforded by a visit to the neighbouring port of Macao, the first foreign
settlement in China, and only forty miles away. It was first opened for
Portuguese traders to build factories there in 1557, and was the only
open port till we obtained Hong Kong. The Portuguese were an adventurous
and energetic race in those days: it was the emporium of trade in Eastern
Asia for three hundred years. To-day it is the most dead-alive place
that I have ever visited, and its population is eighty thousand. It is
a charming spot, with delicious sea breezes, making the climate far
preferable to that of Hong Kong. Its industries (?) are gambling and
opium smuggling, with their attendant vices.

An interesting detail is that the dominant colour of Macao is _red_. The
dominant colour in China, on the other hand, is _blue_. It may interest
some of my readers to note this, and to compare it with the fact that the
dominant colour in India is red, the sensuous, as contrasted with blue,
the non-sensuous. It seems to me very characteristic of race differences.

We were fortunate enough to be at Macao for an interesting aeroplane
function: the opening of an American aerial service between Macao,
Hong Kong and Canton. A large and cheerful party of Americans came to
the hotel where we were staying, and there was a turn-out of the whole
population to see the ceremony. On every rock and vantage point above
the lovely bay figures were perched expectant, and the quay was crowded.
Unfortunately the necessary petrol had not arrived, and the machines
just put inquisitive noses outside their sheds and then withdrew. We did
not succeed in penetrating the mystery why the American Company should
have selected Macao for such a purpose. No doubt they have some astute
reason. The service between Hong Kong and Canton ought to be a useful one
commercially.

The lack of railways and roads in China is a tremendous handicap to the
country, and the Government has already turned its attention to aviation.
An English firm was successful in obtaining from it the contract (in
1918) to supply a hundred commercial aeroplanes, and to construct the
necessary aerodromes, supply and repair depôts, etc. The aeroplanes have
already been completed, and a service is started from Peking to Shanghai.
It will be most interesting to see how the experiment turns out. The
planes are like those used for crossing the Atlantic and can carry twelve
passengers and luggage. The adviser to the Chinese Government is Lt.-Col.
F. Vesey Holt, who is at Peking, with a staff of skilled pilots and
engineers.

We enjoyed the hospitality of the Customs Commissioner, and heard of the
difficulties of combating opium smuggling and of working an international
customs service. The Japanese unfortunately are pushing the opium trade
with considerable success.

I made another excursion from Hong Kong of the greatest interest, namely
to Canton. It is now the seat of the Southern Government, which is not
recognized, however, by any of the foreign powers. The Cantonese are
very different from the Northern Chinese and their language is wholly
unintelligible to them. They are the cleverest and most advanced people
in the empire, and have traded with Europeans regularly since the
seventeenth century; they have in consequence been influenced by Western
ideas to a certain extent. The native population is estimated at two
millions, of whom two hundred thousand live in boats; there are many
foreign merchants as well as missionaries of various nationalities. Its
hospitals and schools are justly celebrated. I went by the night boat,
arriving about 6 a.m., and had engaged a guide to take a young French
lady and myself to see all the main sights. Canton is a most fascinating
city, and as one was carried in a chair through its narrow granite-paved
streets (their average width is twelve feet, and they are eighty miles
in extent), one is dazzled by the wealth of beautiful and curious things
displayed on every side.

I had been given Sir F. Treves’ description to read before starting,
in order to discourage me from visiting Canton; but it simply baffles
me that anyone can be so blind to its charm and so keen to note the
unpleasant side of things. We first visited the workshops for making
kingfisher feather jewellery, and the workmen are wonderfully skilful in
this art; none but a Chinaman would do it. The feathers are first cleaned
by small boys, who act as apprentices and receive no wages for four
years. Then the feather is delicately cut the exact size of the surface
of the silver mount on which it is to be laid. The designs are incredibly
fine and elaborate. All the workmen wear strong magnifying glasses and
work with rapidity as well as meticulous exactness. The bridal head-dress
of Chinese ladies are elaborate structures, a foot or more in height,
made of this feather work, and they retain for many years the dazzling
iridescence of the kingfisher.

There are several most ancient temples and pagodas to visit, nine-tenths
of which are Buddhist. The most interesting of these is the Wa-lam-tsz,
where we saw Marco Polo wearing a hat, seated amongst the five hundred
life-size figures of Buddha’s immediate disciples. History does not
confirm his conversion to Buddhism!

The ancestral temple of the Chen family is very beautiful, though modern,
with its figured roofs, to which I have already referred. Although it was
erected for one family, admission is granted to others also on payment.
Those wishing a first-class position pay a hundred and forty dollars,
but there are different grades at varying prices, and even ten dollars
will gain admittance. There is a City of the Dead, where apartments can
be rented for the deceased pending such time as they are buried: this
may not take place for some time, and we were informed that some coffins
had been there thirty years already. We visited the Flowery Pagoda and
other temples before returning to the shops, and we seemed to cover
a great many miles. The shops were tempting in the extreme—wonderful
embroideries, baskets, paintings and books, silks, fans, ginger and
other fruits, lacquer, furniture, silver and pewter ware, leather
goods and curios of every kind. The antique bird-cage is one of the
most fascinating creations, with its exquisite inlaying, delicate
architectural structure, ornamental food pots and table.

At Canton may still be seen, but not often, I was told, the magnificent
old house-boats, the very acme of perfection in artistic decoration.
There are numbers of house-boats still which are used as places of
entertainment; which certainly seems strange to a Westerner.

We visited other workshops to see fine carving of ivory and jade, and
everywhere were impressed by the infinite patience and endurance of the
workmen. They certainly rank higher as a class than in any other country.
One-fourth of the population of China are labourers and they are sober,
laborious, reliable and contented, living on the meanest wages and asking
for no holidays, except the rare national ones. Naturally no white
people can compete with them, so they are rigorously excluded from most
countries. The problem is a difficult one to solve, but the main thing
that should be done is to safeguard their own country and to preserve
the northern part of Asia from being invaded by non-Asiatic colonists.
If Japan and China became friends and had a just settlement of their
mutual claims, granting room for expansion for their rapidly increasing
population, there would be an unexampled area of prosperity before both
countries. Railway communication is confined to seven thousand miles in
China: it has been more remunerative than in any other country, and what
was started by British enterprise should be carried forward by British
tenacity. There is scope enough for all countries in this matter, but we
are singularly slow to seize our opportunities; perhaps it is owing to
the discouragement of our own railway system. There is a railway line
connecting Canton with Hong Kong, and we enjoyed the three hours’ journey
back by it through lovely scenery. When Canton is linked up with Hankow
by rail, it will be a great help to the unifaction of the empire, as well
as to the expansion of commerce.

One of the last duties before leaving China was of course to visit the
Bank, and this brings me to the last problem I should mention of all
China’s changes—the question of currency. It seems extraordinary that
every province and almost every city of importance still has its own
coinage. Long ago, I was told, this would have been altered, had it not
been for the native banker, who profited amazingly on the system. The
Chinese bankers, however, have had much to endure of late years, and
were heavily looted by Yuan Shi Kai and other Government officials.
They are always in danger of being pounced on, so at last they have
decided to initiate a wholly new policy. The new spirit of initiative and
organization has entered into them with startling results.

They believe that China is able to support herself and that her financial
distress is entirely owing to maladministration. Therefore they have come
forward as a body, offering to undertake a financial scheme of their own
to solve the problem. “They believe that they can place and maintain
China’s finances on so sound a basis that the unavoidable political
unrest of the new era, which they realize is still far from concluded,
will not greatly impair the Treasury’s credit. They are idealists, but
pragmatic idealists.” When the Government was in terrible straits at the
New Year (the financial settling day of China), the new union of bankers,
through the Shanghai Association, served an ultimatum on the Minister of
Finance, prohibiting his issuing a new credit paper, and saying that the
banks would refuse to accept it. At the same time they offered to assist
the administrative departments out of their difficulty, if the Government
would place the matter in their hands and authorize their working out a
programme for China’s future finance. This took place, and the Government
received six hundred million Mexican dollars, with which its liabilities
were met.

The new financial scheme is being prepared, and an important part of it
is the sweeping retrenchment in military expenditure. This extravagant
and wasteful expenditure is a source of untold evil to the country at the
present time. If the scheme can be achieved it will be a great factor
in quieting the country; but the disbanding of large bodies of troops
is no easy matter. The worst military leaders are extorting large sums
of money from the Government, while the claims of those like Wu-pei-fu
and Feng-Yu-Hsiang, who are keeping order, are disregarded. A tremendous
sum of ready money would be required to pay the arrears of troops before
disbandment: but it can be done if public confidence can be won by
necessary guarantees.

I have tried to show many channels through which the new spirit of the
Chinese race is flowing. I have taken advantage of the knowledge of men
of all sorts and nationalities, in order to appeal to men of all sorts
and conditions in the West. For we have the right of brotherhood in all
world movements, and there is an infinite variety of mutual service
possible to those who have undergone and are still undergoing the pangs
of a new birth. My task has been to draw pictures with pen and brush,
and my consolation in the inadequacy of its fulfilment is the poet’s
view that “a man’s reach should exceed his grasp.” If the book proves a
ladder’s rung by which others mount, it will have served its end.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: CHINA & JAPAN

_There is no standardised spelling of Chinese names._]




FOOTNOTES


[1] Yamen is the term used for official buildings in China.

[2] This is the first institution of the kind in China, and is much
needed, considering the fact that there is a garrison of seven thousand
soldiers. The Institute has a fine lecture hall, two classrooms, two
reception rooms, reading and recreation rooms; but it lacks a man to
devote himself to developing the work as it should be, and to give his
whole energy to work among soldiers.

[3] See Dr. Harold Balme’s _An Inquiry into the Scientific Efficiency of
Mission Hospitals in China_.

[4] See _The Face of China_, Chapter V.

[5] We were fortunate in finding an intelligent young English-trained
Chinese in Peking to act as our interpreter.

[6] It may interest the reader to know that the coolie hire for nineteen
men was $165 (about £50 at the rate of exchange at that date) for the
journey from Yünnanfu to Anshun.

[7] Crackers are much used in Chinese worship.

[8] Up this river at a place called Chên-Chow are the richest tungsten
mines in the world. The raw product is sold at two thousand dollars per
ton.

[9] In one American school the boys are fined if heard speaking Chinese,
and are not taught to read Chinese; in many there is no teaching of
Chinese classics.

[10] There is an excellent handbook called _An Official Guide to Eastern
Asia_, Vol. IV. published by the Imperial Japanese Government Railways in
1915, which is beautifully illustrated, and which gives all the necessary
information for making such a trip. It is to be bought at Sifton Praed’s,
St. James’s Street, and elsewhere, price 20s.

[11] Chapters II, VII and VIII have appeared by agreement with the
publishers in _Outward Bound_.

[12] He was entertained in a large guest-house which we visited. The
Governor has recently built it for such occasions.

[13] The first edition of _What the People Ought to Know_ was 2,750,000,
and was distributed gratis throughout the province. One section is headed
“The Three Fears”—these being (i) God, (ii) the Law, (iii) Public Opinion.

[14] See Chapter VII, the account of General Feng’s influence on town of
Changteh.

[15] He intends to add a medical faculty to those already established in
the Shansi university.

[16] C.M.S. = Church Missionary Society.

[17] Chinese students studying abroad frequently adopt English names for
the sake of convenience. A student called Ng, for instance, experienced
much difficulty till he did this.

[18] See illustrations, p. 49.

[19] This description is drawn from an official report of opium culture.
No doubt it varies somewhat in different places, but the fact of the
great labour required is true of it everywhere.

[20] _China’s only Hope_—written by Chang Chih-Tung, China’s greatest
Viceroy after China’s defeat by Japan. More than one million copies of it
were sold, so great was its popularity.

[21] _On the Trail of the Opium Poppy_, Vol. II, p. 3. For the names of
many trees and plants given in this volume I am indebted to this writer.

[22] The high priest of Taoism in Kiangsi is called “High Priest of the
Dragon and Tiger Mountains” (Hackmann’s _Der Buddhismus_, p. 186), and I
have seen tiger shrines on Mount Omi.

[23] The Keh-lao are a group of tribes quite distinct from the Miao and
I-chia, with a language of their own. The Ya-Ya Keh-lao are so called
because every bride has a front tooth (= ya) broken.

[24] The character “ching” is different from the above.

[25] S. R. Clarke’s _Among the Tribes in South-West China_, pp. 41, 42.

[26] _See_ M. E. Burton’s admirable book, _Notable Women of Modern China_
(published by Fleming Revell).

[27] I am indebted for much information on this point to T. Tingfang Lew,
M.A., B.D. (Yale), Lecturer on Psychology, National University, Peking,
etc. etc.

[28] I am greatly indebted to a series of articles by Mr. T. Bowen
Partington in the _Financier_ for these and other trade details in
different parts of the book.

[29] The blind boys have been wonderfully trained by Mrs. Wilkinson
in music. Their singing had the touching pathos so often heard in the
singing of the blind, and their orchestra is known for its skill in
places remote from Foochow.




_Index_


  Aboriginal tribes, Ch. V, 12, 13, 97, 99, 102-4

  Aerial Service, 217-8

  Afforestation, 25

  Agricultural Colleges, 52, 53, 108

  American Missions (see under heading “Missions”)
    Influence, 20

  Amichow, 38

  Amoy, 36, 73, 210-2

  Ancestor Worship, 124-5, 213, 219

  Anglo-Chinese Friendship Society, 20

  Animals, domestic, 93, 94
    wild, 94

  Animism, 129

  Anshunfu, 40, 96, 97

  Art, Chinese, 89, 90, 96, 102, 215, 219


  Baber, Colborne, 131

  Bacon, F., 1

  Balme, Dr. H., 25

  Bamboo, 205

  Bannan, Mr. and Mrs., 149

  Baptist (see Missions)
    Cantonese Church, 30, 31

  Barnes, Miss, 179, 181

  Becker, Mr. and Mrs., 143

  Beggars, 53, 54

  Bible School, 152

  Birds, 88, 90, 99

  Blind, 208

  Bradley, Dr., 70

  Brigands, 68-70, 77, 107, 111, 144, 151

  Browning, R., 140, 158

  Buddhism, 43, 107, 211, 215, 219

  Butterfield & Swire, 42


  Canadian, 24

  Canton, 20, 197, 206, 218-20

  “Central Chinese Post,” 182-3

  Chambers of Commerce, 23, 211

  Chang Chih Tung, 16, 43, 81, 192-3

  Changsha, 41, 42, 149-55, 178, 180-4

  Changteh, 42, 149, 159-71

  Chao Chowfu, 213-4

  Chekiang, 31, 45, 53

  Chen Chow, 42

  Chen Kiang, 18

  Chen Lun, 95

  Chen Yüen, 41, 111-3

  Chen Yu Ling, Miss, 71, 73

  Child Labour, 197

  “China Continuation Committee,” 34

  China Inland Mission (C.I.M.), 97, 105, 143, 146, 149, 206

  Chinese Classics, 43, 176, 194
    Church, 70, 71, 211
    Home Mission, 70-3, 169

  Christian Endeavour Society, 149, 207

  Cinema, 27, 214

  City of the Dead, 219

  Clarke, S. R., 124, 133-4

  C.M.S. (Church Missionary Society), 34, 70, 179, 208

  Coal, 62, 89, 150

  Colleges—Foochow, Trinity, 208-9
    N.C.U. (North China Union) for Women, 71
    St. John’s, Shanghai, 147
    Yale, 151-2, 184

  Commerce, Ch. X, 23, 38, 42-3, 73, 100, 171

  Commercial Press, 29

  Concessions, Foreign—
    Hankow, 43
    Shanghai, 28

  Confucianism, 190

  Confucius, 175, 190

  Coolies, 27, 82, 93-4

  Country house, 213

  Cranmer Byng, 86


  Dan, Mr., 212

  Davies, Mr. and Mrs., 112, 141

  Decorative Instinct, 36, 121

  Deluge, The, 132-4

  Ding Li mei, 71, 72

  Doctors, Women, 177, 185

  Dowager Empress, 54, 81, 192


  Education, 43, 49, 50, 55, 162, 174, 192-3

  Embroidery, 121-2

  Empress, Dowager, 54, 81, 192

  Examinations, 50, 192


  Factories, 23

  Farm, Experimental, 52

  Farmhouse, 100

  Feng Yu Hsiang, Ch. VII, 59, 61, 149, 222

  Finance, 22, 220-2

  Flag, 137

  Flora, 79, 83, 87, 90, 92, 105

  Foochow, 207-10

  Forestry, 52

  Fouillée, 66

  France, Students in, 21, 62, 177
    Railway, 36-9, 67
    Trade, 67, 68

  Fukien, 35, 55


  Gaols, 59-61

  Germans, 23, 27, 102, 146

  Girl Students, 35, 50, 161-74, 180-4, 193, 208, 212

  Goitre, 78

  Government, Chinese, 25, 50, 61, 62, 81, 154, 211, 221

  Governors, 58, 59, 106, 145, 171, 190-2, 200

  Grand Canal, 35

  Guilds, 178, 206

  Gymnasium, 209


  Haiphong, 36

  Hakka, 13

  Hangchow, 31-6

  Hankow, 41-4

  Han River, 43, 215

  Hart, Sir Robert, 92

  Helena May Institute, 36

  Henry, Dr. Augustine, 125-35

  Heyworth, Dr., 185, 212

  Home for Incurables, 34

  Honan, 171

  Hong Kiang, 145

  Hong Kong, 36, 197, 216-7

  Hosie, Sir A., 40, 88

  Hospitals, American, 146, 151-2
    Anshunfu, 97
    Changsha (Yale), 152
    Chao Chowfu, 214
    French (Yünnanfu), 70
    Hangchow, 32-4
    Peking, 22
    Swatow, 212
    Taiyuanfu, 62
    Tsinan, 25-6
    Wênchowfu, 205
    Yünnanfu (C.M.S.), 70

  Hotels:
    Amichow, 38;
    Amoy, 213;
    Canton, 218;
    Foochow, 213;
    Hangchow, 35;
    Lao Kay, 37;
    Swatow, 213;
    Yünnanfu, 39

  Hunan, Ch. VI, 41, 42

  Hupeh, 43

  Hygiene, 26


  I-chia or Lolos, 125, 127-135

  Indo-China, 36

  Industrial Life, 22, 23

  Institute, Soldiers’, 24

  International Life, 66


  Japan, 23, 59, 154, 191-3, 218, 220

  Japanese boycott, 183, 208
    Education, 50, 59

  Japanese Steamers, 42

  Jordan, Sir John, 37, 51, 106

  Jowett, Benjamin, 48


  Kahn, Dr. Ida, 185

  Kalachin, Princess, 185

  Keh-lao Tribe, 97

  Keller, Dr., 73, 152-3

  Kuan Tzu Yao, 91

  Ku-Chin, 72

  Küticul, 79

  Kütsingfu, 40

  Kwangsi Province, 41, 171

  Kwantung Province, 171

  Kweichow Province, Ch. IV, 40, 41, 83

  Kwei Yang, 41, 104-8


  Lacquer, 98, 209

  “La Jeunesse,” 194

  Lang-Tai-Fung, 95

  Language, 55, 56
    Lolo, 127-9
    Miao, 120-1

  Lan-ni-Kou, 104

  Lao-Kay, 37

  League of Nations, 190

  Leper Hospital, 33, 34

  Li Ching Chien, Miss, 71

  Lingle, Mr. and Mrs., 150

  Locke, Mr. and Mrs., 149

  Loess, 62

  Logan, Mr. and Mrs., 165

  Lolo, 124-137

  Lo-yung-kio bridge, 35

  Lugard, Sir F., 197


  Macao, 217

  Main, Dr. and Mrs., 31

  Malong, 40, 79

  Mandarin Chinese, 24, 57

  Maternity Hospital, 32, 33

  Medicine, Schools of, 22, 24, 33

  Mencius, 16

  Mettle, 17, 164

  Military Escort, 76, 107-11

  Minerals, 42, 75, 89

  Missions, Baptist, 25, 152, 214-5
    C.I.M. (China Inland Mission), 97, 105, 143, 146, 149, 206
    C.M.S. (Church Missionary Society), 34, 70, 179, 208
    Danish, 153
    English United Methodist, 206
    L.M.S. (London Missionary Society), 153
    Norwegian, 153
    Presbyterian (Eng. & Amer.), 149, 210-6
    Russian, 153
    Wesleyan, 154, 163

  Mixed Courts, 28

  Mohammedans, 27

  Money, 36, 38, 39, 40, 222

  Mongtsze, 38

  Morals, 117, 120

  Morrison, Dr., 88

  Mott, Dr., 163

  Music, 54, 135, 208


  Nanking, 24, 44

  National Language, 56

  Nestorians, 132

  New York, 199

  North and South, Division of, 37
    troops, 150, 154-5, 159, 160, 170

  Norton, Mr. and Mrs., 209

  Nurses, 33, 212


  “On the Trail of the Opium Poppy,” 40, 88

  Open ports, 28, 43-4, 160, 218

  Opium, 70, 72, 76, 79, 80-1, 105-6, 127, 160-1, 170, 218

  Otterwell, Mr., 39

  “Outward Bound,” 49, 201


  Pagoda Anchorage, 207

  Partington, T. Bowen, 206

  “Passionate Pilgrim,” 188

  Peking, 17, 18, 20-3, 71, 92

  Peng-I-Hu, 194

  Physical Culture, 51, 167, 180, 209

  Pike, Mr. and Mrs., 105-7, 111

  Ping-yüe, 41

  Pollard, S., 135

  Portuguese, 80, 217

  Postal Commissioners, 39, 91, 92, 106
    System, 91-2

  Presbyterian Mission, 165, 210-6

  Pukow Ferry, 18


  Railways, 17, 18, 220
    Canton to Hong Kong, 220
    Changsha to Chuchow, 150
    French, 18, 36
    Haiphong to Yünnanfu, 36-8
    Hankow to Canton, 41
    Peking to Hankow, 18
    Shanghai to Hangchow, 31-2
    Shanghai to Peking, 17
    Shihchiah Chwang to Taiyuanfu, 18, 19
    Tsinan to Tsingtau, 24

  Rawlinson, 185

  Red Cross, 25, 143, 150

  Religion, 194-5

  Renaissance, 194

  Rest House, 34

  Richthoven, Baron v., 62

  “Ritual of Chau,” 176

  River Traffic, 43, 112, 142-3

  Rockefeller Institution, 22, 152, 185

  Roman Catholics, 96, 151

  “Rules for Women,” 176


  Scouts, Boy, 26

  Script, New, 54, 55

  Seaports, Ch. X

  Sericulture, 52, 209

  Shanghai, 17, 28-31, 197

  Shansi, 19, 49

  Shantung, 24, 27, 195

  Shenchowfu, 146-8

  Shihchiah Chwang, 18

  Shrines, Wayside, 99, 100

  Sianfu, 54

  Siang-Kiang, 42

  Slichter, Mr. and Mrs., 97

  Smuts, General, 204

  Soap Tree, 100

  Social Welfare, 29, 201

  Soldiers, 24

  S. S. Lines—
    Changsha to Hankow, 42, 150
    Changteh to Changsha, 42
    Hankow to Shanghai, 42
    Hong Kong to Haiphong, 36
    Hong Kong to Macao, 217
    Hong Kong to Swatow, 216
    Shanghai to Hong Kong, 36

  Standard Oil Coy., 148

  Stone, Dr. Mary, 72

  Student Movement, Ch. IX, 182

  Student Strikes, 182-4, 191

  Sun Yat Sen, 171

  Swatow, 131, 185, 212-6

  Symbolism, 83

  Szechuan, 159


  Taiyuanfu, 17, 18, Ch. II

  Tan Family, 213-4

  Taoism, 43, 94

  Ta-ting, 102

  Temples, 43, 54, 112, 194, 215, 219

  Tengyueh, 39, 71

  Ten-ten, 98

  “Tide of New Thought,” 191

  Tientsin, 24

  Ting Fang Lew, 194

  Tin-mines, 72

  Tong Ting Lake, 42, 150

  Trade and Commerce, 43, 171, 166, 209

  Tribes-people, Ch. V
    list of, 123-4

  Trinity College, Foochow, 209

  Tsai Yuanpei, 197

  Tsao, Lady, 176

  Tseng, Miss, Ch. VIII
    Marquis, 178

  Tsinanfu, 23-7

  Tsingchoufu, 25

  Tsingtau, 192

  Tungsten, 42


  Universities—
    Hong Kong, 197-8
    Peking, 197
    St. John’s, Shanghai, 147
    Shantung Christian, 24


  Varnish tree, 98


  Wang Ch’ang Ling, 24

  Wang, L. K, 208

  Wang of Amoy, 211

  War Lords, 171

  Warren, Dr., 154

  Wênchowfu, 205

  West Lake, Hangchow, 24, 35
    Hotel, 35

  White wax, 144

  Whyte, Dr., 215

  Wight, Dr., 214

  Witchcraft, 135-6

  Witt, Dr., 146

  Women, Chinese, 174-7, 185
    Nurses, 185

  “Wooden Combs,” 124

  Wordsworth, 116

  Workhouse, 54

  Wu-chang, 43

  Wu Pei Fu, General, 164, 222

  Wu-Ting-Fang, 135


  Yale in China, 151, 184

  Yangtze River, 42-5

  Yen Hsi Shan, Ch. II, 70, 194

  Yi-ling, 78

  Y.M.C.A., 29, 70, 153, 211

  Youth of China, Ch. IX

  Yuan-Chowfu, 143

  Yuan Shi Kai, 192, 221

  Yüen Kiang, 41

  Yünnanfu, 37, 66-75

  Yünnan Pass, 40

  Yünnan Province, Ch. III, 38


_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_