Transcriber’s Note: Italics are enclosed in _underscores_. Additional
notes will be found near the end of this ebook.




                              THE FACE OF
                                 CHINA

[Illustration: THE AUTHOR AS CHINESE “FEMALE TRAVELLING SCHOLAR”]




                              THE FACE OF
                                 CHINA

                    TRAVELS IN EAST, NORTH, CENTRAL
                     AND WESTERN CHINA ¶ WITH SOME
               ACCOUNT OF THE NEW SCHOOLS, UNIVERSITIES,
                         MISSIONS, AND THE OLD
                RELIGIOUS SACRED PLACES OF CONFUCIANISM,
                          BUDDHISM, AND TAOISM
                    THE WHOLE WRITTEN & ILLUSTRATED
                       BY E. G. KEMP, F.R.S.G.S.

                             [Illustration]

                                NEW YORK
                           DUFFIELD & COMPANY
                                  1909




                         _All rights reserved_




                               THIS BOOK

                      _IS DEDICATED TO THE FRIEND_

                 TO WHOSE SUGGESTION AND ENCOURAGEMENT
                         IT OWES ITS EXISTENCE

                      PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS, D.D.




PREFACE


Every intelligent person that I have met whose good fairy has led him
to the Celestial Empire has fallen under the spell of that marvellous
people and marvellous land. I am fired with the ambition to cast that
spell even on those who have never been there, by showing them as
accurately and vividly as I can, with pen and brush, what the face of
China actually is.

People _may_ describe with success the soul of a people, provided it
is sufficiently near the surface, but the foreigner who has known
and loved China for a lifetime would be the first to repudiate the
possibility of doing this in the case of China. I would rather take
Browning’s view--“Nor soul helps body more than body soul”--and try to
set down faithfully the things I have seen, that they may lead others
to study China for themselves.

It may be objected that the picture is too much _couleur de rose_,
because I have not dwelt on the dark side of things: but there is a use
for eyelids as well as for eyes.

This book is the result of a year spent in Shansi, 1893–94, and six
months spent in travel through the provinces of Shantung, Chili, Hupeh,
Szechwan, and Yünnan during 1907–8. The former visit was mainly spent
at a medical mission at Taiyüanfu, which was then remote from Western
influences; now everything has changed, and I travelled from north-east
to south-west of the Empire and found no village untouched by the
great awakening. On the first occasion I was always conscious of a
certain hostility in the attitude of the people towards foreigners;
this time it was quite the reverse. Considering the behaviour of many
travellers towards the Chinese, this seems to me really astonishing;
but they are very sensitive in their appreciation of mental attitude,
and they responded unhesitatingly to the call we made on their chivalry
by placing ourselves unreservedly in their hands. We were repeatedly
warned not to do this, but our confidence was justified by the event.
In no European country could we have been more courteously treated, and
in very few have I travelled so happily and so free from care.

The journey was one long series of pleasant surprises, and my friend
expressed the feelings of both of us when, on crossing the frontier
into Burma, she exclaimed: “If only we could turn round and go all the
way back again!” If any one is induced by reading this book to make
personal acquaintance with China, it will not have been written in
vain.




NOTE


There is so little in this volume which is drawn from other sources
than personal observation, and information obtained from our Chinese
and missionary friends on the spot, that I have thought well not to
burden the reader with foot-notes. The various details as to the
religions of China are mainly drawn from an interesting little volume
by Giles, “Religions of Ancient China,” Smith’s “Uplift of China,” and
Hackmann’s “Buddhism as a Religion”; while the account of the railways
is from Kent’s “Railway Enterprise in China.”

The spelling of Chinese names is according to the most recent standard
map, giving the orthography of the Chinese Imperial Post Office.




CONTENTS


  Preface                                                            vii

  Note                                                                ix

     I. Shanghai                                                       1

    II. Shantung, the German Sphere of Influence                      13

   III. A Day in the Country (Shantung)                               20

    IV. Shantung Silk                                                 27

     V. Tsinan                                                        31

    VI. The Sacred Shrine of Tai Shan                                 45

   VII. The Home of Confucius: Küfow                                  53

  VIII. The Yellow River and Grand Canal                              66

    IX. Journey into Shansi in 1893                                   73

     X. Taiyüanfu                                                     81

    XI. Peking                                                        92

    XII. The Péhan Railway: from Peking to Hankow                    106

   XIII. On the Yangtze: Ichang to Wanhsien                          116

    XIV. Szechwan High-roads                                         145

     XV. Chengtu                                                     161

    XVI. The Min River                                               173

   XVII. Mount Omi                                                   182

  XVIII. From Szechwan into Yünnan                                   195

    XIX. The Road to Yünnan Fu                                       208

     XX. Yünnan Fu                                                   218

    XXI. Tali Fu                                                     234

   XXII. Tali Fu to Teng Yueh                                        241

  XXIII. From China into Burma                                       252

   XXIV. The Present Situation in China                              257

  Table of Dynasties                                                 271

  Index                                                              273




ILLUSTRATIONS


                           _Coloured Plates_

  Portrait of Author as Chinese “Female Traveling Scholar”
      (p. 236)                                            _Frontispiece_

  Tea-House in Old Shanghai                                            6

  A Suburb of Weihsien                                                16

  A Village School                                                    24

  Official (Court Dress)                                              30

  Mountain Chair                                                      46

  Tai Shan                                                            48

  Private House: Küfow                                                54

  Confucian Temple                                                    56

  Mounted Military Escort                                             64

  Our Houseboat, Grand Canal                                          69

  Camel Inn                                                           74

  Opium Refuge                                                        80

  Theatre Stage                                                       82

  Pagoda                                                              84

  Tiger Brave                                                         86

  Scholar--Southern Servant                                           91

  City Wall of Peking                                                 92

  Temple of Heaven                                                    96

  A Lady of Quality--An Official                                     100

  Boxer--Kachin Woman (p. 253)                                       104

  Mr. Ku                                                             106

  The Brakeman on the Péhan Railway                                  108

  Ancestral Tablet                                                   120

  Blue Dawn                                                          122

  Yeh Tan Rapid                                                      124

  Village and Junk                                                   132

  The Look-out on the Yangtze                                        134

  Camel-back Bridge                                                  144

  Szechwan Highway                                                   150

  Sunlight and Mist in the Mountains                                 158

  Buddhist Monastery                                                 166

  Military Yamen                                                     171

  House on Min River                                                 179

  Otter Fishing on Min River                                         181

  Mount Omi Bridge                                                   187

  Summit of Mount Omi                                                192

  Copper Idol, Sui Fu                                                196

  Cormorants on the Cormorant River                                  198

  Laowatan River                                                     201

  Wha Miao                                                           206

  Bridegroom--Funeral Pagoda                                         213

  Temple of the God of Literature                                    221

  Fellow-Travellers                                                  226

  Tomb of a Philosopher among Rice-fields                            229

  Tali Fu                                                            235

  Shan Woman                                                         249


                           _Sepia Drawings_

  Cemetery of Confucius                                               61

  Old Examination Buildings                                           88

  Great Wall                                                         110

  Chinese Graves                                                     116

  River-side Shrine                                                  141

  The Chef on the Yangtze                                            141

  City Gate: Chengtu                                                 160

  Police Boatman: Min River                                          181

  Signboard of Inn                                                   181

  Buddhist Monk beating Fish Gong while Chanting                     189

  Tiger Shrine                                                       189

  Our Military Escort                                                203

  “Orphan Spirit” Shrine                                             203

  Tower of Refuge                                                    204

  “Omi to fu” Shrine                                                 204

  Miao Woman                                                         206

  Upland Village                                                     208

  Uh Chai                                                            208

  Yünnan Hat                                                         211

  Lolo Woman                                                         211

  Village Screen Wall                                                233

  Carrying-Chair                                                     233

  Suspension-Bridge                                                  243

  Bridge made of Creepers                                            244




THE FACE OF CHINA




CHAPTER I

Shanghai


My first voyage to China was unspeakably distasteful, and as we neared
Hong Kong we were suddenly caught up in the tail of a typhoon and
carried for forty-eight hours wherever it pleased to take us. Most
of that time we were without food, and could not even get a cup of
tea; while we found it hard work to cling to a seat. When we emerged
from the storm, and steamed into the wonderful bay of Hong Kong, it
seemed like Paradise; it looked to my eyes the most beautiful harbour
I had ever seen: and I have seen nearly all the most celebrated ones,
without feeling tempted to change my opinion. The first introduction
to a new country, if it happens to be when the faculties are specially
quickened, makes an indelible impression, and from this time China has
been to me a land of infinite charm and beauty. The more I have seen
of it, the more I have realised its fascination; even its ugliness is
interesting.

Hong Kong lies along the shore, with a steep cliff rising abruptly
behind it, called the Peak, and the typhoon had laid parts of it in
ruins, and unroofed many of the houses, so that it was by no means
looking its best. British pride swelled within me as I thought of the
transformation that had taken place in half a century. When it was
ceded to the British it was a barren island, with a population of 5000
inhabitants; now it is the second largest port in the Empire, with
a population of 238,724. There is an immense boat population; whole
families have lived from generation to generation in their boats along
the shore. In Hong Kong, East and West live happily together, learning
to appreciate one another. Chinese merchants are members of its council
and take an active part in its government. It has become not only the
greatest shipping but also the greatest banking centre of the East, and
it is a significant fact that it contributes annually £20,000 to the
British Treasury as its military contribution.

From Hong Kong to Shanghai is but a step, and at first sight the
latter seems almost as European as the former. The landing, after
coming up one of the mouths of the Yangtze River, is in the centre of
a promenade, with broad grass borders between it and the road, along
which lie the finest commercial buildings of the city for the distance
of more than a mile. This is the Bund, the most imposing part of the
concession. It may be well to mention what a “concession” is, as this
is a term continually used with regard to the treaty ports, such as
Tientsin, Hankow, and Shanghai. It is a right granted to Europeans to
inhabit a certain defined area, to possess property in it (no private
individual except a Chinaman has the right to buy land for building
on, in China, although it is occasionally done in the interior), to
live under European law, to have their own police and manage their own
affairs. The Shanghai concession was mapped out in 1843 by Sir George
(then Captain) Balfour, and is on a broad cosmopolitan basis: later
on the French obtained one adjoining it, and then the Americans. Many
Europeans live outside the concession, especially in a quarter where
the English have laid out a charming shady road, perhaps the most
tortuous in existence--so as to avoid desecrating graves; it is called
the Bubbling Well Road. The concessions have their own post-offices,
where you call for letters, if you happen to expect any from the
country to which they belong. We found the Russian post-office up a
staircase in a thoroughly unofficial-looking house.

The traveller, however, on landing at Shanghai ought not to drive along
the Bund to the pleasant Astor House Hotel, but should make a détour
into the Chinese streets Nankin Loo, or Foochow Loo, densely thronged
streets, where nineteen out of every twenty people wear blue robes,
varying in shade from deepest ultramarine to palest aquamarine. One is
accustomed to think of the Chinese as quiet, slow-going people, but the
traffic of Shanghai is so great that I know no place where you are
more conscious of business bustle. The crowd in the streets is almost
entirely composed of men and boys, so that it is hard to imagine where
room is found for the women and children, even the balconies and shops
as well as streets being packed with men. It is estimated that Shanghai
has 160,000 inhabitants to the square mile. It is necessary to visit
old Shanghai really to see what it _can_ be, and it is a mistake to
be deterred from doing this (as many visitors are) on account of its
special squalor and dirt, or by the absurd statement that all Chinese
cities are alike.

You pass into the real Shanghai through two low gateways, set at right
angles from one another, where no vehicle is ever allowed to enter;
indeed, such a thing is practically impossible. The streets are so
narrow and tortuous that it is hard even for carriers to force a
passage through the crowd. The houses are fairly high, and innumerable
signboards (long, narrow boards covered with gilt characters which read
from bottom to top) hanging overhead block out the light and hinder
any current of air from driving away evil smells. The entrances to
the shops are lined with Chinese lanterns of every shape, size, and
colour: when lit, they cast a kindly glamour over the celestials below,
very different from the pitiless glare of electric light. There is no
gaudy display of goods in shop windows, for there are no windows; just
an open counter on which a few specimens may be lying, probably in a
glass case. The walls are lined from floor to ceiling with shallow
drawers, filled with endless little parcels containing the rest of the
stock-in-trade. Despite the squalid surroundings and the tininess of
the shops, this may be very valuable (for the Chinese are great lovers
of curios), jade, bronze, ivory, china, or silver. Along with such
things are mixed the most absurd rubbish, mainly European goods. Many
shops contain a row of finely carved chairs to accommodate purchasers,
and elaborately decorated woodwork, such as screens with beautiful
groups of figures at one end. We should have liked to buy many things,
but this is not to be done lightly, and several days of diplomatic
dealing are required before purchaser and seller can come to terms in
the orthodox way. No Eastern would be satisfied with the monotony of
our Western methods. The whole street is interested in the performance,
and looks on as at a play. The amount of business transacted appears to
be in inverse proportion to the number of shops.

We threaded our way through a maze of lanes till we came to the centre
of the town--the original of the celebrated willow pattern[1]--and
as picturesque a spot, in the mellow evening light, as you could
possibly imagine. A weed-covered pond, fringed by willows, surrounds
the group of tea-houses, which are reached by a zigzag bridge, across
which passes a ceaseless stream of blue-robed passengers: gentlemen
carrying their birds out for an airing; mothers with babies in their
arms, wearing gaily coloured caps surmounted by scarlet tufts; coolies
with heavy loads; children dangling sundry purchases, such as a bit
of meat or vegetables, from the end of a string or blade of grass--a
fascinating throng to watch, if not to be absorbed into!

Close to the garden is a mandarin’s palace, into which we gained
admittance after much hammering. The reception-rooms were lofty and
dignified, furnished only with Chinese lanterns, some handsomely
carved chairs, alternating with little tables (just large enough to
accommodate tea-things) set in two rows facing one another, and scrolls
on the walls. The garden was entirely composed of rockwork, with the
greatest possible length of pathway comprised in the smallest possible
area. One of the stairways led up to a handsome summer-house with a
balustrade consisting of a sinuous dragon, some forty feet long, carved
in stone. Beside his gaping jaws sat a little stone frog, preparing
to leap in--a good specimen of the humour which makes Chinese art
so attractive. A few willows and shrubs adorned the garden, but no
flowers--a feature characteristic of Chinese gardens, where design and
architectural work such as summer-houses, bridges, and walls are the
most important matters. On different parts of the inner walls of this
garden were stone medallions, representing scenes in the Mandarin’s
life.

[Illustration: TEA-HOUSE IN OLD SHANGHAI]

On emerging from the garden by a different door from the one we came
in at, we were confronted by a row of images, and found it was a
joss (= worship) house; the few worshippers present were prostrating
themselves--two at a time--before the altar, behind which stood the
gods. The air was laden with the smell of incense, joss-sticks burning
in a stand on the altar; and huge stone lions guarded the door. It was
apparently the quietest and least frequented part of the city.

In the courtyard was a fine bronze monument, said to be over 2000
years old, round which a market was going on; the people sitting on
the ground, surrounded by their wares, mainly vegetables. By way of
variety there was a man with a large assortment of coal-black tresses
of hair for sale, as even the poorest Chinaman is not above improving
his queue with a false addition: also there was a large basket full
of grasshoppers in cages about an inch square, “shrilling” at the top
of their voices. From this courtyard ran a street full of shops of
cooked meats. Above the counters hung split dried ducks, which looked
as if they had been petrified in the act of flying with outstretched
necks and wings. Below them were baskets full of eggs, black with age,
preserved in a mixture of straw and lime, esteemed a great delicacy,
as also seaweeds and sea-slugs--the most revolting, evil-smelling
things--like fat caterpillars. Rows of little dishes contained various
kinds of relishes, and there were piles of white square steamed flour
dumplings, which is the Chinese form of bread.

Passing up the street, you come to a vegetable stall, the most
exquisite harmony in reds and yellows; scarlet persimmons, bananas,
pomeloes like yellow cannon-balls, yellow and scarlet capsicums,
all sorts of nuts, a yellowish fruit shaped like a hand and called
“Buddha’s fingers,” and baskets of dingy-coloured grapes, were some of
the things for sale. Rotten pears cut in half seemed to find a ready
sale; and _à propos_ of pears, I must tell how a lady in Peking peeled
one for my sister with her finger-nail! and how another, in describing
the shocking extravagance of her neighbour, ended as a climax with the
statement, “She actually throws away her pear skins!”

The next street was full of coffin shops, particularly dear to the
Chinese heart, as a coffin is a complimentary gift from a son to his
father. They were mostly black, and would probably be ornamented with
gilt lettering; but in Canton scarlet coffins are the fashion.

Nauseous smells rose from the open gutters. Myriads of mosquitoes are
wont to settle upon hapless visitors, but a solution of eau de Cologne
and pyrethrum rubbed over face, ankles, and other vulnerable spots kept
us fairly immune.

Leaving old Shanghai, you come into a whirling throng of carriages,
wheelbarrows, and rickshas, of which there are thousands darting
about. When an Englishman happens to be the occupant, the speed of the
ricksha is automatically accelerated. Whole families of Chinese women
and children, dressed in every colour of the rainbow, manage to pile
themselves on the barrows. At the street corners stand Sikh policemen,
tall handsome men with dazzling white turbans, who contrast finely with
the celestials. There is a greater variety of vehicles in use here than
in any other place that I have visited in the East, and they all go
much too fast for the safety of passengers, considering the narrowness
of the roads. The slightest push upsets a barrow. The swiftest of all
the vehicles is a sort of low victoria, drawn by a rat-like pony. This
is specially used by stockbrokers, who dash out of an office into it,
one foot in the carriage and one on the step: they never think of
sitting down, but are whisked away to another office, into which they
dash like lunatics, and so on _ad infinitum_. A feverish activity seems
to possess all the business population, and every movement says “Time
is money.” It is only in the evening that the business folk of Shanghai
may be seen strolling along the Bund or sitting on the benches, which
are labelled “Europeans only.” Hard by is the public garden, where no
Chinaman is allowed to enter--an offensive piece of insolence as long
as other Eastern races can strut about in it; but it is in keeping with
the attitude, unfortunately, of a large number of Europeans towards
the race among whom they dwell. Not long ago a notice might have been
seen, “No Chinamen or dogs admitted.”

It may seem strange that the Chinese post-office is in the foreign
concession, but the reason is that it is under European management
together with the customs, which are under the same roof. If you wish
to send off a parcel to Europe, you must first take it to the Customs
House, where it has to be opened for examination. If you happen to be
a lady you are shown into a division marked “Ladies only,” and the
Chinese officials save you all further trouble: they do your parcel
up with a dexterity which makes you envious, and seal it according to
regulation; and it is all accomplished with a swiftness and courtesy
that might well be copied at home.

One day we drove to the fine American college of St. John’s, about
five miles from the city. We passed along the Nanking Road, where the
most beautiful Chinese shops are. The façades are of handsome carved
gilt woodwork, with balconies in which there were parties of men
drinking tea. Unfortunately, these shops are gradually being replaced
by European shops with plate-glass windows, and soon this part of
the city will be quite spoilt. Gay carriages were following the same
direction as our own, the Bubbling Well Road, and we were amused to
see in one a party of Chinese girls evidently returning from school,
and with their little handmaiden hanging on to the perch behind, where
you would expect to see a boy in livery. Inside the carriage was a
mirror and a sort of dressing-table and a flower-vase, as the custom
is at Shanghai. On arrival at the college, we were taken first to
see the orphanage, where tiny little creatures of about two or three
years old came and solemnly bowed to us, with folded hands. The two
youngest members of the establishment were babies, one of whom had been
rescued from destruction. The father and mother had both been born
on unlucky days, and when the baby girl had the same misfortune they
utterly refused to have anything to do with it. She was accordingly
taken to St. John’s at two days old, and has thriven capitally. We
visited successively the boys’ and girls’ schools, and finally were
taken round the college by the principal, Dr. Pott, to whom is mainly
due the great success it has achieved. There are about 120 scholars,
all of whom have to pass an entrance examination in English, and they
pay what are considered somewhat heavy fees, so that the bulk of the
expense has not got to be met from mission funds (American Episcopal).
At present the only two final schools of the college are theology and
medicine, but many of the students go on to America for further college
courses. We visited the dormitories, and were interested to compare the
boys’ belongings with those of English schoolboys. Each boy has his own
teapot, and can always get a supply of boiling water. Many of them had
musical instruments, some flowers, some birds, some crickets. They are
fond of having “cricket matches”--that is to say, with live crickets.
In winter the boys all bring hand-warmers into class, and Nelson’s
ink-bottles are the most approved for this purpose.

As regards games, Dr. Pott said that it was with the utmost difficulty
that Chinese boys can be got to exert themselves; but they are
gradually getting keener, and the average of attainment is steadily
rising. On a board in the college they have a list of honours won,
and this keeps up the interest. In answer to a geography examination
question, “What are the five principal races?” the answer was, “Fifty
yards, hurdle race, &c.”! The college has a fine library, alumni
hall, chapel, and playing grounds, but the laboratory leaves much
to be desired. It is affiliated to an American university, and has
the highest reputation of any educational establishment in China.
Certainly, to judge by one of its students, who travelled with us for
six months as interpreter, it is worthy of the highest praise.

Since our visit a new hall has been added to it, and there will be
accommodation for another 100 students when the building is completed.
The cost is being largely defrayed by Chinese well-wishers, £600 having
been already contributed by them.




CHAPTER II

Shantung, the German Sphere of Influence


We left Shanghai by steamer on October 2nd, and reached Tsingtao (the
port of Kiaochow) at about 8 P.M. on the 3rd. We were grateful to be
allowed to stop on board for the night, as our train started from a
station close at hand at 7 A.M., and we were saved the trouble of
going to an hotel. The harbour is picturesquely situated at the mouth
of the bay, surrounded by hills which have all received German names
since the occupation. We were up betimes, and rather disturbed by the
non-appearance of the Customs House official, without whose presence
we could not go ashore. However, he appeared in time to let us get
to the little wayside station, and we found other passengers waiting
there, seated on the line with their luggage in a haphazard way. The
Germans have not only got the concession known as Kiaochow, but also
thirty miles on each side of the railway line which they have built
from Tsingtao to Tsinan, the capital of the province, a distance of
about 250 miles, through the centre of the province. The port is laid
out just like a German town, and has hotels, statues, a post-office,
commercial buildings, and private houses. The place is a fashionable
summer resort, consequently the prices are high, and have gone up at
least 50 per cent. since the coming of the Germans, who spend money
lavishly.

The German Government has just decided to build a High School for
Chinese boys of the upper class, at a cost of £30,000.

The rail is the dearest and dirtiest I have ever seen. The officials
treat foreigners with indifference, and the Chinese with brutality--at
least, so we heard at every place at which we stayed, and from the
people who most appreciated the coming of the railway. One can only
hope that things may be improved later, and a better class of officials
put in charge of the line. There was but one train per day going in
each direction, and the journey from Tsingtao to Tsinan takes about
twelve hours. Occasional trains run on sections of the line. Although
money has been poured out like water to make the German occupation a
success, the object has so far not been accomplished, perhaps owing
to lack of harmony between the three principal German officials in
China--the Governor of Kiaochow, the Ambassador, and the Commander
of the Fleet. The bulk of the trade on the line is still in Chinese
hands, and the merchants have succeeded in getting permission to build
a branch line from the treaty port, Chefoo, to Weihsien, which will be
a great advantage to them. Naturally the Germans, after spending so
much on their port, do not like to see trade diverted to another. They
not only refuse to build the line themselves, but have memorialised the
Throne to prevent the Chinese from being allowed to build one either:
however, their representations have failed.

The province of Shantung is considerably larger than England, and is
the most densely populated of any in China--557 persons to the square
mile. Although it is well cultivated and prosperous in appearance,
the partial failure of the crops has the immediate effect of throwing
50,000 of the inhabitants into a state of beggary. When this happens,
the Government grants each beggar daily a bowl of rice. It is hard
to realise this state of affairs when you pass through such a
prosperous-looking country; the crops are wheat, different kinds of
millet, sorghum, maize, sweet potatoes, beans, peas, hemp, and indigo.
A large quantity of fruit is also grown--pears, apples, apricots,
peaches, cherries, grapes, persimmons, &c. Every now and then you
pass brilliant patches of vegetables of various sorts. A villager’s
plot of land usually contains all the requisites of life--cotton (for
clothes and bedding), wheat, potatoes, a fruit-tree, and last, but not
least in China, a castor-oil plant; a few fowls and pigs will give him
what most he loves in the way of food. I have known a Chinese woman
eat fifteen eggs at a sitting, and she was surprised at the fit of
indigestion which followed this meal! There is a curious specimen of
fowl cultivated in this province, called the Cottonwool fowl; it is
small, white and fluffy, looking just like a toy out of a cardboard
box, and is exclusively used as medicine, especially for the diseases
of women. Its flesh is dark, and the bones black; the chickens are the
sweetest-looking objects. In contrast, the pigs of this part are black
and hairy.

After leaving Tsingtao the train travelled slowly, stopping at every
station, and these stations are all alike except a few large ones.
There was a ticket office, and a row of five wooden-looking Chinese
policemen standing at attention and drawn up in line as long as the
train was in the station. They wear black sailor-hats, and hold batons
as if they were rifles. For all the world they look like toy soldiers
at 11¾d. per dozen, made in Germany. There are no platforms on these
stations, and passengers squat on the line surrounded by their bedding,
teapots, and birdcages. The Chinese take to railway journeys like
ducks to water, so the trains are well filled. A woman may be seen
approaching on her donkey, which travels at about the same rate as
the train, so she stands a good chance of catching it even if she has
started rather late. She is a picturesque object sitting astride on
the top of her bedding, attired in a blue coat and pink trousers, tied
in at the ankle with pea-green ribbons over white socks; the finishing
touch of the costume being the coyest imaginable little pointed
embroidered shoes.

[Illustration: A SUBURB OF WEIHSIEN]

At Weihsien, which we reached after some five and a half hours’
travelling, we were met by a friend, and passing out of the station,
we found on the “cab-stand” a row of wheelbarrows waiting to take
passengers to the town, about half a mile distant. The country is
dotted with a good number of trees, mainly willows, poplars, cypresses,
and mulberries, above which tower the walls of the city. We were
carried in chairs, and were charmed with the view, as a lovely clear
stream flowed at the base of the walls, reflecting a deep blue sky.
Weihsien is an important business city, and its streets are named
after the trades plied in them, such as Forge Street, Gold Street, and
Silversmith Street. To us they appeared picturesque, but some people
might call them squalid, and it is certainly wisest to look up, not
down. We passed through the outskirts of the town to a fine-looking
mission station, mainly built and worked by American Presbyterians who
had recently coalesced with the English Baptists. This mission station
was completely destroyed by Boxers in 1900, but now there is a fine
group of buildings, including boys’ and girls’ schools, hospitals, a
church, college buildings, and houses for workers (who number about
twenty), and the whole is enclosed within a high wall. So far the
teaching, even of Western science, has been entirely carried on in
Chinese, but the demand for the knowledge of English is so pressing
that it has recently been added to the curriculum.

From Weihsien we went next day to Tsingchowfu by rail, a journey of
about two hours, and this is one of the great historical centres of
the Empire. Here, again, the railway station was at a little distance
from the town, and we found chairs waiting to convey us thither. The
town has an imposing position on the hill, with a stream flowing round
the greater part of it; consequently the walls look an astonishing
height from the outer side, at least twice as high as from within, and
the main entrance is across a bridge.

Within the gloomy north gate hangs a group of cages containing
magistrates’ boots, but it is probable that they were originally used
to hold something very different, namely, criminals’ heads. In _Les
derniers Jours de Pékin_, Pierre Loti describes those he saw just after
the siege, all with the queue hanging down between the bars.

There are many fields within the city, and if time had allowed I should
willingly have stayed several weeks sketching there. The ruins of the
palace belonging to the Ming dynasty are fast falling to decay, and
as, unfortunately, the Government does not take any interest in the
preservation of national relics,[2] it is not unlikely that they may
entirely disappear one of these days.

Both here and at Weihsien we were struck with what we heard of the
village girls’ mission schools, showing the stability of character
and also the capacity of Chinese girls. When a village wishes to
establish a school, its inhabitants ask some mission to supply a
teacher, and they make themselves responsible for the rest. The girl
teacher is probably lodged in the home of the village elder, and he
makes arrangements for the schoolroom, &c., and acts as guardian to
the teacher. She organizes work, and has entire control as long as she
manages it properly. About twice a year a missionary goes to inspect
it and examine the scholars. We felt it would be interesting to see
one of these schools, so our hostess offered to arrange the matter,
and took us one day to the village of Wang Mu Chiang Chwang, some ten
miles distant, which she was intending to visit for the purpose of
inspection.




CHAPTER III

A Day in the Country (Shantung)


Days in early October are perfect for visiting the country. The
thermometer stands at 70° to 80°. We set out one clear, fresh morning
at about eight o’clock. I went in a sedan-chair, and the two others
in a wheelbarrow--not such an uncomfortable conveyance as might be
supposed, except when the roads are very rough. The occupants recline
on each side of the wheel, and parallel to it, in a padded seat with
back rests and cushions, their feet extended full length in front; the
barrow is wheeled from behind, and has a man harnessed like a beast
in front. As this was a heavy barrow there were two additional men
pulling, one on each side of it. The sedan-chair travelled quicker
than the barrow, and had the advantage of taking short cuts across
the fields. It was carried by four men, two in front and two behind;
the front ones carried by means of a pole, to which the shafts were
suspended--which ran parallel to them--while the carriers at the back
were in the shafts themselves. When the men wished to shift the weight
from one shoulder to the other, they supported the pole by means
of an upright one which they carry for the purpose. Owing to these
arrangements the chair can be equally well carried by three men as by
four, two in front and one behind, in which case the back carrier is
much farther from the chair than the front men.

I was soon well ahead, and did not witness the catastrophe that
happened to the barrow shortly after starting. Going round a corner
rather too fast, the barrow was upset, and one of my friends was tipped
out into the dust; but the other, on the upper side, managed to hold
on. Happily, no damage was done, as the fall was into a soft, clean
heap of dust. But it was not so pleasant a matter for another friend to
whom this happened when she was travelling the same road earlier in the
year. She was tipped over into a sea of mud, and as she happened to be
carrying a basket full of eggs, she suddenly found herself in a “Yellow
Sea.”

Leaving the city behind us, we passed through open country where every
one was still busy harvesting in the fields. Some fields were already
ploughed, in others green wheat stood a few inches high; it would not
be much higher before the snow came to cover it for winter. Much of
the foliage looked more like spring green than autumn, and many of
the villages lay embowered in trees--willows, aspens, cryptomerias,
the last-named always belonging to temples or adjoining graves. The
threshing-floors were filled with golden grain being prepared for
winter storage. Bean pods were being broken up by means of stone
rollers, worked by donkeys, blindfolded with neat straw goggles.
On one occasion I saw a donkey wearing a pair of ornate blinkers,
bright blue cotton with protuberant black eyes surrounded by a white
line. The Chinese love to decorate the things in common use, and it
is a perpetual joy to see the skill and ingenuity expended on simple
objects. After the bean pods have been crushed the different parts of
the plant are raked into separate heaps on the threshing floor--bean,
husk, stalk, and chaff--for every particle is used in one way or other.
If one were asked to state what was the most striking feature of this
great empire, I almost think it would be this: the carefulness which
prevents waste, the ingenuity which finds a use for everything. Even
the green weed covering the ponds is used as fodder for pigs. When
the fields look quite empty after harvest, the women and girls gather
together the few remaining straws. Every inch of ground is cultivated,
except the endless mounds, the graves of countless generations.

The country was a scene of delightfully cheerful energy, whole families
working together; a tiny child lying naked, basking in the sun, the
women (despite their bound feet) as busy as the men. Barrows passed
along, groaning under loads so heavy that it needed a friend to drag in
front, while at the end of some five yards of traces a donkey trotted
along, waiting to give its assistance till it was more urgently needed,
as, for instance, going uphill or over difficult ground. The reins were
attached to each side of the barrow, and could only be manipulated by
a dexterous twist of the wrists. Occasionally a man rode by on a pony,
whose coming was heralded by a tinkling of bells. As the country is
covered with crops, not many cattle are to be seen, and any there may
be are mainly fed on bean cakes. We were swiftly borne through village
after village, and my men only set me down for one ten minutes’ rest
during the ten miles, which we covered in two hours and forty minutes.

As we entered Wang Chia Chuang (Wang = family village), the whole
community, headed by the Wang family, turned out to meet us, having
been warned the day previous of our intended arrival, and we were
ceremoniously led to the Guest Chamber. On the outside of the entrance
to the house little strips of red or orange paper were pasted up, and
in the inner courtyards as well. On these papers are sayings from the
writings of Confucius, or other mottoes, such as the following:

  When you sit quietly, think of your own fault;
  When you chat together, mention not another man’s.

  In teaching children, good must be taught;
  To win a reputation, study may be required.

  Diligence and frugality are the principal thing in maintaining
      a house;
  Humility and mildness are the boat for crossing this world.

  Honesty keeps the family great;
  Classics make the generation long.

These couplets are renewed at the beginning of the year, and the
village schoolmaster has a busy time writing them.

Tea was brought in, and not only the family and schoolgirls, but also
the neighbours came to see us, pouring out a flood of talk, of which
we understood nothing. Then we went into the schoolroom across the
courtyard, and found it and the girls as clean as soap and water could
make them. The certificated teacher was about twenty years of age, and
in this case happened to be Mr. Wang’s daughter. Her room opened out
of the schoolroom, and was a pattern of neatness--it was ornamented
with photos. Her salary is £3 per annum. The curriculum of these
village schools consists of the three R’s, singing, drill, and sewing,
and it is wonderful to see the difference in the appearance of the
girls after they have been a short time under training, the awakened
intelligence showing to a marked degree. The more promising students
get drafted on to the boarding-schools for further training, with a
view to their becoming teachers. The largest of these schools only
contain thirty scholars, but they have two teachers for that number of
scholars. An official who happened to visit one of these schools was
filled with astonishment at the behaviour of the girls; as soon as he
entered they all stood up, and answered the questions he put to them
with modesty and clearness. He said how different this was from the
behaviour in the national schools for boys, and sent a large sum of
money (comparatively speaking) to be divided among the scholars, as a
mark of his appreciation. In the large towns Government schools for
girls are being started, but in the country there are only mission
ones. Dating from the new year (1909) school attendance is compulsory
for boys throughout the Empire, therefore the Government is responsible
for the establishment of the requisite number of schools--at least one
in every village. At first there was a difficulty in starting village
girls’ schools; now they are in great demand, and sufficient teachers
cannot be obtained.

[Illustration: A VILLAGE SCHOOL]

After we had heard the children sing and had inspected their writing
and sewing, &c., we watched Mr. Wang doling out medicine in a
patriarchal way in the courtyard. Several people had taken the
opportunity of our visit for killing two birds with one stone, namely,
seeing foreigners and obtaining medicine. One of them showed us her
unbound feet with great pride, as she had just achieved the process
of unbinding, and she presented us with her old shoe, much worn, but
beautifully embroidered, in which she used to work in the fields. The
Chinese naturally have remarkably small feet, and in this village
most of them are unbound, as the majority are Christians, but the
feet are so tiny that in many cases it is difficult to believe that
they are not bound. The women wear white linen socks, and their wide
trousers are neatly fastened over them with different coloured braids.
Village life here looks eminently patriarchal. The sons do most of the
work, all living with their families under the same roof. One of the
daughters-in-law had a beautiful Madonna-like face, as she sat nursing
her baby, with other youngsters crowding round her knees. No one could
have failed to admire the saintly expression and graceful pose. The two
married daughters of the house were living in a neighbouring camp with
their husbands, who are Manchu officers. All the prefectural towns have
Manchu garrisons, but it would not be possible for a foreigner to tell
the difference between Manchu and Chinese soldiers.

Our visit came to rather an abrupt close, as we were warned that we
must reach the city before sundown or the gates would be closed. Mr.
Wang brought in preserved pears and tomatoes strewn with sugar, which
are esteemed a great delicacy, and then we started on our homeward way.
Work in the fields was ended for the day, but for many of the Chinese
work is never ended. Until all the grain is housed, watch must be
kept by day and night. Small huts are erected in the fields for this
purpose, sometimes perched on tall poles, from which a wide outlook
can be kept over the country, or on the threshing-floors adjoining the
farms.




CHAPTER IV

Shantung Silk


The next morning we pursued our railway journey as far as Chowtsun, but
we had great difficulty in getting tickets. Before leaving Shanghai we
inquired at the bank what sort of money we should take for Shantung,
and were told that notes would go everywhere, so we accepted what
the bank gave us. On the railway they demurred at every place where
we offered notes, and at Chowtsun they absolutely refused to take
them. In vain I expostulated in German. The Chinaman pretended not to
understand. Nothing would induce him to say a word or give us tickets,
but he said in Chinese that he must have Mexican dollars. Finally, we
left the office, and when the train arrived we had our luggage put
in, and got in ourselves. The man came out of his office, and looked
surprised. He then poured forth a flood of German. I told him that he
would be reported for incivility at the station to which we were going,
and where we would pay for our tickets. He had evidently imagined we
should be intimidated and should produce the dollars. Chowtsun is a
charming place, and we found plenty of the now fashionable Shantung
silk to be bought there, but much finer in quality than one sees
in London shops. We were taken to look at it in an inner room, and
provided with tea. The merchant said that the Shantung silk blouse
which I was wearing was very poor quality, and he showed us some lovely
stuffs, all hand-woven. On the counter were lying Manchester cotton
goods, which are imported all over the Empire. It is interesting to
learn that Shantung has been noted for its silks since 2640 B.C. In the
Chinese classics of that date silk is referred to as being made in the
south-west of the province, where the mulberries grow well.[3] At the
present time the silkworms are fed on dwarf oak in the eastern part of
the province, and pongée is made from their silk; but all the finer
silks come from the west. From the time of Yu (who flourished B.C.
2640) there is continual reference made in the classics to sericulture.
A later writer says that in his time it was forbidden to rear more than
one breed of silkworms in a season, because astrologers had discovered
that horses and silkworms belonged to the same constellation, and
therefore must be of the same origin. Later on, in a classical book
of the Han dynasty (B.C. 204), the ceremonies connected with it are
described, and how the Empress herself took part in it, none of her
ladies being allowed to wear jewelry when picking mulberry leaves to
feed the young insects, and “none dare indulge in indolence”; “lewd
conversation” was said to disturb the worms. From this time onwards
it appears that successive empresses had to take a ceremonial part in
the rearing of silkworms. Silk was the most interesting product of the
province to us, but the main interest of the country to others lies in
its mineral worth. The Germans have got mining rights, and have carried
a branch line of the railway down to the coalfields at Poshan.

From Chowtsun we went on a barrow, through interesting country, to
the town of Tsowping to visit a friend, and as the roads were good
we quite enjoyed our four hours’ ride. Specially careful barrow-men
had been selected, so that we might run no risk, and certainly this
was desirable, as the path often lay along the edge of steep banks.
We found a good mission hospital up there, where we heard astonishing
stories of the recuperative powers of the Chinese. The Scotch doctor
said that when he told them to his friends at home, one would remark,
“I am not a bad liar myself, but I would not dare to go so far as
that.” My own experience at a hospital in China makes me think that it
is impossible to beat the reality, no matter how exaggerated the story
sounds!

From Tsowping we returned by barrow to Chowtsun, and thence by rail to
Tsinan, which boasts three railway stations.

The accompanying illustration gives an idea of what is worn by
officials. The self-complacent pose of a Chinese official’s feet is
eminently characteristic. Much has been written about character as seen
in the human hand, but I think a character study of feet might still be
written, even when the feet are disguised by boots or shoes.

[Illustration: OFFICIAL (COURT DRESS)]




CHAPTER V

Tsinan


The capital of Shantung is a large city, containing a population of
about 150,000 inhabitants. Tsinan is a city of real beauty, owing to
the fact that there are bubbling streams in all parts of it, so that
the trees grow well. The water is singularly bright and sparkling, and
looks attractive even in the dirtiest gutters. As it comes bubbling
up in every direction there is a radiance about it which seems
untarnishable. In the very centre of the town is a temple, standing
on a terrace with fine carved balustrades round it, in front of which
is a large pond full of this bubbling water, overhung by willows--a
typical Chinese picture. On the other side of the pond is a busy
market, whence crowds soon collected round us to watch our sketching
and photographing. They were quiet and polite, and it was quite
unnecessary for the policeman to come and keep them at a distance. But
then that manœuvre gave him the advantage of an excellent view for
himself! Everywhere we found a Chinese crowd of spectators preferable
to one composed of Europeans. The market interested us greatly, having
every kind of ware for sale, from rags and silk scraps, out of which
elegant shoes are made, to all sorts of weird medicines, of which the
emblem was a life-sized, double-headed fowl, planted in the centre of
the counter. Hard by the medicine stalls was an enclosed space, where
a woman was telling a story to an interested crowd. The professional
story-teller is quite an institution here, as elsewhere in the East,
but it is rarely that a woman is seen in that capacity. In fact, women
take but small part in the business life of the country, and men do all
the selling in shops.

Not far from the market, but situated on the outskirts of the town,
is the University, a recent institution (1902), and built mainly
in European style; the professors’ houses being of two stories and
entirely un-Chinese. The entrance, however, is the usual native one
with carved and painted woodwork decorations; facing it, and crossing
a little bridge over an empty tank, was the guest-room, supposed
to be purely Chinese, but full of European lapses, in the shape of
lace curtains, wall-papers, European carpet, chairs, clock, electric
bells, and, most striking of all, a centre candelabra for the electric
light. There are lecture-rooms, libraries, museum, laboratory, and
dining-rooms, and thirty-two baths with hot and cold water laid on;
these are so popular that their use has had to be limited. Amongst the
institutions may be named a fife and drum band, and the latest novelty
is a brass band. The University is only open to the students of the
province of Shantung, and naturally the standard of Western knowledge
is still low; but there are professors of English, German, French, and
Japanese, though the respective numbers of their classes are seven,
five, five, two. At present Japanese is not so popular as it used to
be. Indeed, in the Imperial College in Kaifeng the Educational Board
has just cut out Japanese: whether this is an exceptional case I cannot
say.

The English section includes a study of European history (Freeman’s)
and political economy, but other subjects, such as geography, are
popular among students, to judge by their use of the small English
library. Curiously enough, the most popular book both here and
elsewhere is “Little Lord Fauntleroy.” Half the lectures are devoted to
Western knowledge and half to the Chinese classics, and the course of
study at present covers three years.

In connection with the scheme of education, and under the same
jurisdiction, are normal schools, secondary and primary schools. One
of the principal ones has an English headmaster, so that there will
soon be a set of students prepared to profit much better by university
training, and fitted to go to some European university later. There are
no fewer than fifteen schools and colleges, with about two thousand
five hundred students. Another interesting feature of the education
question is the opening of a girls’ school for the daughters and
wives of the officials. It was built three years ago by two Chinese
gentlemen, and they have an English teacher there. The school was
formally opened by the Literary Chancellor, and on entering he saluted
the girls deferentially, and gave them an admirable address. In the
south of China many ladies learn reading in private, but in the north
this is extremely rare, and so lately as 1902 there was not a single
girls’ school in the Empire, except the mission schools; now they are
cropping up in all directions, and the Government is taking an active
interest in all their concerns. Possibly it may be thought that it
shows this in somewhat exaggerated fashion, for a recent order has been
issued from the Education Department in Peking prohibiting the wearing
of a long fringe of hair, or “bang” as our American friends call it,
in any of the girls’ schools throughout the Empire. This fashion had
become rather general last year. It would have been of much more
practical value if all scholars had been forbidden to paint, as this
is one of the most time-wasting processes. At Tsinan the school hours
have been obliged to be fixed late because the scholars require some
hours for the morning toilette. In the girls’ schools they are now very
anxious to learn English, music, and drawing; “accomplishments” are
more valued than serious study. It is quite evident that there is no
lack of ability to learn, though the girls are called “wooden-heads”
sometimes in contempt. In the American Board School at Peking the girls
gave an admirable rendering of Wagner’s and Mendelssohn’s music in
part-singing. The piano is also very popular among the girls. Like the
boys, they have astonishing memories, and think nothing of reciting a
whole Gospel; it is even not ranked as a feat by the Chinese to know
the whole of the Bible by heart.

Tsinan is a most progressive town: it has a British postmaster, who
has organised, not to say revolutionised, the postal system of the
province. Letters now go to Peking in four days, and to Tientsin in
three and a half days; the runners carrying them reckoning to do fifty
or sixty miles at a stretch, with an average speed of three and a half
miles per hour. They receive about five shillings a week as wages. Sir
Robert Hart is responsible for the selection of postmasters, and even
in a remote place we found a very nice one who could speak a little
English. Sir Robert Hart was appointed head of the Customs Department
in 1862, and the Customs and Post-Office form part of one system.

One of the prettiest places at Tsinan is the lake, the main pleasure
resort of the Chinese. After threading our way in chairs through
incredibly dirty and narrow lanes, filled with a jostling crowd and
traffic, often brought to a standstill by a hopeless-looking _impasse_
of rickshas, barrows, beasts, and chairs, we came to a gateway, and
stepped thereout straight on to the edge of the lake, where boats,
with graceful latticed-work windows, and a broad couch to lie on in
the front, awaited passengers. Tea was ready on the table, and we set
off along one of the water highways through the tall reeds and beds
of lotus. Gorgeous kingfishers darted to and fro like a flash of
light; tiny wild-ducks bobbed up out of the water, and then scuttled
into the reeds, as we slowly made our way to the various points of
interest. The lake has been chosen as a place for putting up memorial
monuments to distinguished people, and they are certainly a singular
contrast to ours. They stand like temples on little islands, and to
the uninitiated appear to be such, with their tablets of incense and
altars. For instance, there is a fairly recent one erected in memory of
a former Governor of Shantung. Above the altar, and almost hidden by
the inscribed tablet, is a life-size seated figure of the Governor. The
head is a photograph, and the rest is a painting, but in the dim light
it required close inspection to ascertain this fact. Incense is offered
before it by any one, and not only by the members of his family, as in
ancestral worship. Opposite this building, and as part of the memorial,
is an ornate theatre, where plays are acted on public occasions.
Another recent memorial has been put up to Li Hung Chang, and it is
extremely strange. It includes a little summer-house and a rock-garden
(without rock-plants), a theatre, a house containing a tablet, altar,
&c., and a guest-house where distinguished visitors can be lodged.
This last building is two-storied, and quite European in style, perched
on an elevation with a well-built wall below it, surmounted by barbed
wire. Another little group of buildings had corrugated iron walls;
on another was a Taoist temple, where we found a travelling showman
who was exhibiting a popular cinematograph in the neighbourhood.
The Chinese frequent the lake for pleasure parties, and a good deal
of drinking goes on, not of tea only. A visit by moonlight is as
enchanting as anything that could be imagined. On one of the islands
we noticed the most fascinating of all the fascinating birdcages we
had yet seen. It was the usual round shape made in bamboo, but the
centre of the roof inside was a well-executed portrait of the handsome,
black talking bird which inhabited it. The seed- and water-pots were
of different colours and shapes, and fastened in with tiny figures of
men carved into wooden buttons. I have never been in any country where
there were so many caged birds, and where they were so well looked
after. Every cage has its well-made night-cover, and often this is
fastened down the side with neat little buttons. We continually saw men
carrying cages along the streets, taking their birds for walks, as we
do dogs. At one place we saw a man take the cage to a stream, and after
he had cleaned it out with a sort of tooth-brush, he left it in the
stream for the bird to have its bath, after which he hung it up to dry,
and whistled to the bird. The fashion of carrying birds about is said
to be for the purpose of showing that the owner is a man of leisure; as
this is now creating a good deal of ridicule, the custom is likely to
go out of fashion.

One of the interesting sights of Tsinan, which is quite up to date, is
a large camp, lighted by electricity, about two miles outside the city.
It is built like rows of little cottages; the men are well drilled,
and have to attend lectures. We found them, when they acted as our
military escort through the province, very civil, and in every way
pleasant and obliging men. A party of them was brought by an officer
to visit the mission museum, and the men were much interested in
having the various kinds of natural history and geological specimens,
models of architecture, electrical machines, steam-engines, &c.,
explained to them. Visitors are surprised to see a model of an English
cemetery, but it throws a new light on English character when the
Chinese receive an explanation of our views with regard to the dead,
and the care lavished on their last earthly dwelling-place. Models are
of great value when wisely used for dispelling misconceptions, but we
are often prevented by our insular pride from taking the trouble to
disabuse foreigners of false impressions they may have conceived of us.
One of the most attractive models is a dredge worked by electricity,
for the province of Shantung suffers terribly from the inundations of
the Yellow River, and the means used to cope with this difficulty are
wofully inadequate.

This museum was originally started by Mr. Whitewright, of the Baptist
Mission at Tsingchowfu, where the prefectural examinations used to take
place, attracting to it 10,000 or more students from all parts of the
province. When the old examination system was abolished the city of
Tsingchowfu was no longer of importance from this point of view, and
it was decided to move the Institute to the capital, Tsinan, a treaty
port whose importance, on the other hand, was rapidly increasing.
The Mission obtained an excellent site, and put up a lecture-hall to
seat six hundred persons, reception-rooms for men and for women, a
reading-room, and the museum. The first block of buildings was opened
in 1905 by the Governor, and ever since then the place has attracted an
increasing number of visitors of all kinds. In the second year of its
existence there were 187,000 admittances; at the great annual religious
festivals it is specially crowded, as thousands of pilgrims pass
through Tsinan on their way to the sacred mountain, Tai Shan. From 8.30
A.M. till 6 P.M. preaching goes on without intermission, a specially
selected staff of native preachers assisting the missionaries in this
work; for the Chinese prove themselves more able than Europeans to win
converts to Christianity.

Many of the students from the university and the schools frequent
the museum and lecture-hall, the walls of which are hung with charts
and diagrams calculated to give the thoughtful Chinaman much food
for reflection. After studying the comparative tables of commerce,
population, &c., a visitor is said to have exclaimed, “Why! the
_only_ thing that China is ahead in is population!” Lectures on
history, science, and religion are given in the hall, and are largely
attended by university students on Sunday, as, in imitation of our
Western custom, they have no classes at the university that day.

One day a week the museum is open to ladies only, and we met the wife
of the retiring Governor of the province just leaving the building
after an exhaustive examination of its contents. She was accompanied
by a considerable retinue on horseback and in chairs, not to mention a
motley crowd composed of the rag-tag and bobtail of the town, carrying
absurd little flags.

It has now been decided to attach a medical school to the Institute, as
there is none in the province, and a church is also to be built. The
American Presbyterians and the English Baptists are combining for this
medical school. The former society has had medical work here for the
last twenty-eight years, and for many years they have had a hospital
and dispensary in the eastern suburb. There is also a free dispensary
in the city, a Government affair, where the patient is at liberty to
choose either Eastern or Western treatment. The majority choose the
latter, and are treated by a German naval doctor; they are indebted
for his services to the German Government, who have lent him for this
purpose. There are already classes for medical students in connection
with several of the mission hospitals in the province, who will form an
excellent nucleus with which to start the new college. The importance
of medical mission work in China is great, not only for its own sake,
but also for the purpose of familiarising the Chinese in the most
remote corners of the Empire with the benefits of Western science and
the goodwill felt towards them by Europeans and Americans, of which
this is the practical demonstration. The two continents are about
equally represented, and there are over three hundred doctors scattered
throughout the Empire: their fame extends far beyond the limits of the
neighbourhoods where they happen to be residing. They are training
numbers of intelligent young Chinamen to carry on their work, but the
establishment of colleges to complete the training of these students is
now becoming increasingly necessary.

The work already achieved by medical missionaries in China is by no
means small or unimportant. They form an association, by means of which
the task of fixing the terminology of medical science has already been
accomplished. They have published a standard dictionary in Chinese, as
well as the latest American and English text-books on this subject.
The Chinese medical student, therefore, is not entirely dependent on
oral teaching, if he has no knowledge of English. Another branch of
this work is the organised labour of their research committee. The
geographical distribution of disease, the various forms of it prevalent
in different districts, and the methods of treatment come under
this heading. Men of undoubted ability and with the highest medical
qualifications are engaged in this work.

The Chinese Government has recognised the value of what has been
already done by its official sanction of the Union College at
Peking--the first attempt made in China to give a full medical
education.[4] The late Dowager Empress contributed to its initial cost,
and the Government has pledged itself to grant degrees to the students
who have successfully passed its examinations. There are about seventy
to a hundred students in it at the present time.

This is a somewhat long digression, but I think it will not be without
interest to readers to have a general idea of the scope of medical
mission work in China at the present time.

There is an arsenal near Tsinan, where an English officer, who had just
been allowed to see over it, told us they seemed thoroughly expert, and
able to reproduce anything they tried. They were busy making locks for
a canal, and less than a hundred miles away we passed another large
arsenal where they were busy making ammunition. The smoky chimneys were
quite suggestive of home!

The most interesting feature of our stay at the capital was an
interview with the Governor of the province, to whom we had an
introduction. His Excellency Lord Wu is an intellectual-looking
man, but worn and bowed with age. He had granted us an audience one
afternoon, and on our arrival at his _yamen_ (= official residence)
we were led through a circular doorway in the wall, into the gardens,
in which were little ponds and bridges, and an arbour made in the
shape of a boat. We waited the Governor’s coming in a summer-house,
a terrible European erection, furnished with a crimson and “Reckitt’s
blue” plush sofa and revolving chairs to match. On the table were
glasses and plates, with proverbs inscribed round them, and cups of
the type seen at a Sunday-school caterer’s. Cake, champagne, and tea
were set out on a parti-coloured table-cloth, which was ornamented
with a florid design in chain-stitch composed of every colour of the
rainbow. His Excellency soon made his appearance, accompanied by an
exquisite-looking interpreter who spoke English well--better than
he understood it, I fancy. For nearly an hour he plied us with all
sorts of questions as to my education (he had been much exercised by
F.R.S.G.S. on my Chinese visiting-card), occupation, our past and
future travels. He not only gave us good advice with regard to our
journey, but practical assistance--as we afterwards discovered--by
sending word to the magistrates on our route through the province. An
interested but somewhat ragged audience watched us from the doorway,
and the Governor’s personal attendant played with his queue, but
somehow nothing could disturb the dignified impression of the old man.
He had known Gordon, and at the time of the Boxer troubles he had sent
the missionaries safely out of the province, in direct opposition to
the orders he had received from his Government. He is a strong, good
man, and I much regretted that our conversation had to be carried on
through an interpreter, for that process is paralysing to thought,
not to mention that one had grave doubts as to the accuracy of the
interpretation. The interview lasted about an hour, and was terminated
by His Excellency inviting us to drink champagne or tea, after which he
escorted us back through the garden to our chairs.




CHAPTER VI

The Sacred Shrine of Tai Shan


Shantung is the most interesting (historically) of all the provinces in
the Empire, and we determined to visit two particularly sacred spots
which were not far from the capital--Tai Shan (one of the four sacred
mountains of China) and Küfow, the home of Confucius.

We started on a beautiful autumn morning, with quite an imposing
cortège. First came our mounted military escort, then ourselves in two
light mountain chairs, each carried by two men and with two to relieve
them. Next came the cart, with our interpreter (a minute person clad
in khaki, boasting the name of Fergus Summer--though a Chinaman), the
cook, some baggage, and the men’s bedding. Finally a mule brought up
the rear, carrying our baggage, some one’s bedding, and our other
servant perched cross-legged on the top. It was a delightfully
exhilarating day, and not less so the thought that we were really
beginning our adventures off the beaten track, and had said good-bye
to the railway for at least three weeks, to try far pleasanter, if
slower, means of transit. The chairs were light frames with a hanging
foot-rest, quite comfortable when padded with our bedding, and with
an awning fastened on light bamboo rods above us. We were well manned,
so we comforted ourselves as to the fact of their carrying us between
twenty and thirty miles a day by remembering that they were only too
pleased to get the job. They were pleasant, cheery fellows, with fine
mahogany-coloured backs, and did not seem the least bit jaded at the
end of the day’s march. They go lightly clad, the most solid part of
their clothing being the pig-tail curled round their heads. The rest
of their garments were well ventilated, and sometimes seemed in danger
of falling to pieces altogether. Their food seemed most inadequate--a
chunk of bread, an onion (alas for the passenger who hates the smell
of an onion!), endless cups of tea at wayside restaurants, and
frequent whiffs of smoke from their tiny pipes. They are wonderfully
good-tempered, always ready for a laugh, and most attentive and careful
for one’s comfort.

[Illustration: MOUNTAIN CHAIR]

The first day passed without any adventure, but was pleasantly spent
in charming scenery, and we passed a somewhat uneasy night trying
to accustom ourselves to our new beds (light camp mattresses with
an air pillow under the hips--an excellent arrangement) and strange
surroundings in an inn. It was an easy task to get up early next day,
and we started at 6 A.M., so as to do a four hours’ stage before
breakfast--fifteen miles. The country was full of interesting sights:
one hamlet we passed through seemed to have a monopoly of whips; every
shop was full of them and of nothing else. In another plaited
straw for hats was the only article for sale. Farther on, we came
to a district where each village had large bunches of maize hanging
in golden clusters from the trees, looking like fruit. As we turned
a corner into a deep gully we came into a bevy of barrows in full
sail--like a fleet of blue-sailed boats--bearing down upon us. They
were the only ones we saw, as there was not much wind, but it was an
unforgettable sight.

As we approached the city of Tai An we were met by a fine soldier in
red plush breeches, but the rest of his costume was not to match! He
had come six miles from the city to act as our escort, and told us
of a noted Buddhist temple that we must stop and visit. There was
an extraordinary seated gilt Buddha, with a broad grin on his face,
and another grave one standing, but there was nothing particularly
noteworthy, as far as we could see. The soldier told us that
preparations had been made for our entertainment at the inn, but we
had arranged to stay with a hospitable American lady, who had lived
out here for over fifty years, and as soon as we arrived she sent to
engage chairs to take us next day up the holy mountain. Chinese books
say that it has been the holy mountain of the East for the last 4000 or
5000 years; it is certainly one of the most frequented to-day, and at
the usual times of pilgrimage (February and March) as many as 10,000
will go up in a day. Most of the pilgrims go up on foot, a few on their
knees, and the wealthy ones in chairs.

We started betimes in chairs--there is a special guild of
chair-bearers, and they are simply wonderful--they are called
“climb-mountain tigers,” and as soon as they saw my size they demanded
an extra man. I was quite willing to comply with the demand, though
they would not have suggested it to a Chinaman of twice my bulk! It was
a lovely morning, worthy even of such an expedition. We were carried
about two miles across the fields before we came to the foot of the
mountain, and from there to the top the way is well paved or made in
flights of granite steps, some ten to twelve feet wide, up to the top
of the mountain. There is even a well-built wall of cut stone on either
side, the cost of this road being defrayed (as well as the upkeep of
the temples) by the gifts of worshippers. The road was not very steep
at first, and was lined by houses, where no doubt a profitable trade
is plied by the sellers of paper money, shoes to be presented to the
goddess P’i-Hsia Yuam-Chun, incense, and “light refreshments.” There
are many temples on the mountain--in fact, there seems to be one
every few yards--but we had not time to spend in visiting them; and
we set our faces to walk up a large part of the 6600 steps which lead
to the top. It took us some five and a half hours to climb up, and
as we neared the Gate of Heaven (the pink gateway in the sketch) the
steepness grew, the last flight being over 1000 steps (I counted them),
most of which were so narrow that not more than part of the foot could
be accommodated: the steps were much higher than they were wide, so
that it was more like a ladder than a staircase. Heavy iron chains were
suspended at the sides for the worshippers to drag themselves up by,
and a Chinese woman with us went up on all-fours. The way towered above
us in contrast to the “Peaceful Mile,” a shady part of the road lower
down; but it was very lovely, with its scent of wild thyme, fragrant
grasses, and yellow chrysanthemums. Earlier in the year it is bright
with violets, forget-me-nots, and honeysuckle, and the cypresses and
pine trees give great dignity to the landscape. We followed the rocky
bed of the stream, which becomes a brawling torrent after rain. We only
halted for half-an-hour on our way up, and the “tigers” did their work
well. After we had passed through the Gate of Heaven we came on to a
comparatively flat piece of tableland with thatched cottages, which
might have been a Scotch moor. On the top were several temples, one to
Confucius, in which was a replica of his big statue in the temple of
Küfow; another to Yu-Huang, the Taoist Emperor of the Sky, who first
drained the Empire; and--most sacred of all--a rough block of granite,
said to have been erected there by the conqueror Ch’in Shih-Nuang.

[Illustration: TAI SHAN]

The great Emperor Shun (B.C. 2255–2205) is said to have visited Tai
Shan, “where he presented a burnt offering to God and sacrificed to
the Mountains and Rivers.” Certainly he could not have selected a
better spot for the purpose: from the summit you look down upon a
vast expanse of hilltops, like the waves of the ocean, and the lovely
shining rivers below wind away like silver threads between them. This
represents the oldest form of worship in China, existing before the
rise of Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. The earliest sacrifices are
said by Chinese writers to have been organised by Fu Hsi, nearly 3000
years B.C. His successor built a temple for the worship of God, where
sacrifices were offered to the mountains and rivers. This was followed
by the worship of the sun, moon, and five planets, and there are traces
of this still to be found in Chinese Buddhism, which has incorporated
so many alien ideas from other religions.

The great sacrifices to God and to earth were offered at the winter
and summer solstices by the Emperor: he also sacrificed to the four
quarters and to the mountains and rivers of his Empire. The nobility
sacrificed each to their own quarter, with its rivers and mountains.
The royal sacrifice was a young ox of one colour, which had been
specially reserved for the purpose. The sacrifices of the people varied
according to rank and to the season of the year--a bull, a ram, a boar,
scallions and eggs, wheat, fish, millet, a sucking pig, unhulled rice,
a goose.

The sacrifices in early times consisted of meat and drink; those
offered to heaven were burnt, and those to earth were buried,
accompanied by the beating of an earthen drum. But sacrifices were
not very frequent; in the “Book of Rites” it says: “Sacrifices
should not be frequently repeated. Such frequency is indicative of
importunateness; and importunateness is inconsistent with reverence.
Nor should they be at distant intervals. Such infrequency is indicative
of indifference, and indifference leads to forgetting them altogether.
Therefore the superior man, in harmony with the course of nature,
offers the sacrifices of spring and autumn. When he treads on the
dew, which has descended as hoarfrost, he cannot help a feeling of
sadness which arises in his mind, and cannot be ascribed to the cold.
In spring, when he treads on the ground, wet with the rains and dews
that have fallen heavily, he cannot avoid being moved by a feeling as
if he were seeing his departed friends. We meet the approach of our
friends with music, and escort them away with sadness, and hence at the
sacrifice in spring we use music, but not at the sacrifice in autumn”
(Legge’s translation).

Such a poetic description of worship is worthy of the scene which
greeted our gaze on the mountain after we had passed through the Gate
of Heaven, the fine culminating point of the steep ascent. The view
from the summit, which is but a gentle ascent from the Gate of Heaven,
was absolutely glorious--range upon range of mountains, countless
villages dotted over the forty miles of plain and in the folds of the
hills, and above all the winding, shining river, going away, away,
away, till it was lost in infinite space. Was it that the effect of
such a vision unhinged the minds of worshippers, since this became the
place where people cast themselves down into the abyss? There were so
many deaths that the authorities have had it walled in, and the place
is called “Cliff of the Love of Life.”

When we began our descent we resolved to do the correct thing--despite
the terror it inspired in us--and be carried down the almost
perpendicular stairway. The men carry the chairs sideways, because of
the narrowness of the steps, and run down, pitter-patter, as hard as
they can go. I had my watch in hand and timed them--a thousand steps in
six minutes. The most horrible moment was when they flung the chair,
with a dexterous turn of the wrist, from one shoulder to the other.
One false step and we should all have been killed together; but the
“tigers” never make a false step. Really the only danger is that the
carrying poles may snap. The whole return journey--reckoned at thirteen
miles--took only two and a half hours. The height of the mountain is
5500 feet, whereas Tai-an is only 800 feet above sea-level. Stones are
carried from it to all parts of the province, and when a house is built
with an unlucky aspect--namely, facing a cross-road or a turning--one
of these stones is built into the wall, with an inscription, “The stone
from Tai Shan accepts the responsibility.”




CHAPTER VII

The Home of Confucius: Küfow


The next morning we were just about to start, when the magistrate of
the city was announced (imagine a ceremonious call at 7 A.M.!), and
he was ushered in, together with his present to us--a tray containing
fine pears, pomegranates, dates, and nuts. We accepted part (in Chinese
etiquette this stands for “gratitude for his generosity”), and returned
part (“humility of the recipient”). He was immediately served with
tea and cakes, and explained to us that, owing to a message from the
Governor of the province, he had been expecting our arrival and had
prepared an inn for us. Understanding that we were just setting out on
our journey, he only stayed a short time after we had thanked him for
his hospitality, so that we were able to do our day’s stage in good
time.

The following day we started at 6 A.M., and managed our thirty-six
miles in twelve hours, as the roads were in good condition. At midday
we halted for lunch at an inn, where we were told that the magistrate
had made preparations for our entertainment. A scarlet curtain was
hung in front of the door; there were mats and carpet on the floor of
the two rooms, coverlets on the _khangs_ (= brick bedsteads), a good
table and European chairs, scrolls on the walls, a white table-cloth,
and, to complete all--a champagne lunch! We declined the champagne,
lager-beer, and most of the “plats,” but enjoyed the chicken and eggs.
The advantage of having the inns cleaned up and fresh mats put down
is great. Our military escort, varying from one to four, is highly
diverting, and they are usually mounted on shaggy ponies, on which they
look quite fine, especially when they have their scarlet or yellow
umbrellas up.

As we approached our destination, Küfow, a man came dashing across the
plain at full gallop, and flung himself off his horse at our feet,
announcing that the magistrate had ordered a private house in the
city to be prepared for our reception, to which he would conduct us.
Just outside the gates we found four soldiers standing at attention:
they gave us a military salute, bobbing down till their right hands
touched the ground and then emitting a startling yell. Accompanied
by them (they remained with us in attendance till we left Küfow) we
soon reached our quarters, a characteristic Chinese gentleman’s house,
very nice and clean, in which a suite of three rooms was placed at our
disposal (the block seen in the sketch). A major-domo received us at
the entrance and led us ceremoniously to the inner courtyard, where
tea was at once served, and we were told that dinner would be ready
shortly, and that the magistrate would call on us as soon as we had
dined.

[Illustration: PRIVATE HOUSE: KÜFOW]

Our interpreter, Mr. Summer, had informed us that he was the son of an
official and knew exactly what ought to be done; so we placed ourselves
in his hands, and our visiting-cards and thanks were at once despatched
to the magistrate. After dinner the chairs were arranged in rows,
and tea and cakes set on the table in readiness for his arrival. He
asked particularly if we had enjoyed our dinner, which he had ordered
to be cooked in European style, and it was quite good and palatable,
especially as we had the best of sauces after our long day’s march. It
appeared that our host had provided three cooks (trained in European
ways), three other servants, four soldiers, and two policemen to look
after us, but our own men undertook all the personal attendance.

Next morning we went in procession to the temple--the Holy of Holies
of Confucianism--for all the establishment seemed to think they should
accompany us. We decided to make a détour in order to approach it from
the most picturesque side, and the view was certainly charming as we
walked along the moat outside the city wall, where lotus leaves floated
on the still water, and tall rushes and flags rustled under the leafy
trees. Nothing was needed to enhance the beauty of the spot, and a few
minutes’ walk brought us to the celebrated avenue of cypresses leading
to the south gate of the city, within which is the fine entrance to the
temples. They are enclosed in a park which occupies a whole quarter
of the town, and has plenty of trees to form a worthy setting for the
large groups of buildings connected with Confucianism, temples not
only to Confucius but to his parents, followers, and to the other great
sages, Mencius and Yentzu. The buildings are some of the finest in
the Empire, and very lofty, with their double-storied roofs covered
with orange and green tiles. The eaves are heavily decorated with fine
coloured woodwork, protected with netting from the vast flocks of
birds and bats that hover round them, and the pillars of the Hall of
Perfection are magnificently carved monoliths. In the first courtyard
are many interesting stone tablets, eight or ten feet high, standing
on the backs of stone tortoises or mythical beasts of similar shape in
picturesque little temples with yellow-tiled roofs and Venetian red
woodwork. Hoary cypresses towered above them. In the next courtyard was
a preaching hall (not in use for that purpose, however), from which we
ascended by a long steep flight of stairs, with folding gates half-way
up, to a dark upper chamber. Another flight of steps took us to a room
surrounded by a balcony, from which we had a splendid view over the
many temples clustered round a great central one, which appears above
the orange and green tiled temple in the sketch which I took from this
point of view. It is the most imposing of the group of buildings,
and is entirely tiled with orange, none but Confucian temples being
allowed to have this colour. Flocks of crows, pigeons, and other birds
were circling round it; indeed, we had been awakened by the deafening
noise they made in the early morning. In the courtyard as well as in
the temples were fine old bronzes; carved marble steps led up to the
principal hall, a lofty building with pillars and red painted woodwork.
Here Confucius sits under a canopy, with handsomely embroidered
curtains partly shrouding him, and an altar bearing bronze incense
bowls in front. On either side, at right angles, are the figures of two
other great Chinese sages, Mencius and Tze-Sze, seated in shrines, and
behind them again are six disciples seated against the walls on either
side.

[Illustration: CONFUCIAN TEMPLE]

The sacrifices to Confucius were formally established by an emperor
(A.D. 59), who also ordered that the teaching of Confucius should
be studied in all schools throughout the Empire. This is still
done everywhere, even in the new universities, but the actual
sacrifices--pigs, sheep, and cattle--are reserved for temple worship.
These take place before dawn in the second and eighth month. There is
plenty of room in the grounds belonging to the temple for pasturage,
even for the vast number of animals required, as it is about 8000 acres
in extent. More than 500 years elapsed after the death of Confucius
before he was universally worshipped, but the worship had the royal
sanction, for his teaching is aristocratic in character, whereas that
of the yet greater but less noted sage, Mencius, was as thoroughly
democratic.

Confucianism is rather a system of ethics than a religion. Confucius
merely accepted (and that only to a limited extent) the religion of the
age and country in which he lived, and he added to it a code of morals
dealing largely with the government of the State. He said, “I am not an
originator, but a transmitter.” Confucius lived contemporaneously with
the Buddha, but no two great teachers of mankind could have differed
more widely from one another than did these, both in character and in
teaching. In the Buddha, love and pity for the sorrows of humanity
drowned every other feeling, and he resolutely refused to use his
powerful intellectual faculties for any other purpose than to lessen
suffering, and eventually to rid the world of it. Confucius, on the
other hand, allowed his intellect free play, and it appears to have
led him to look with tolerance, and a certain measure of acquiescence,
on the religious beliefs of the age. There is a famous saying of his,
“Respect the spirits, but keep them at a distance.” At the same time,
he was conscious of his mission as a teacher sent by God; he says,
when threatened by the people of K’uang: “After the death of King
Wen, was not wisdom lodged in me? If God were to destroy this wisdom,
future generations could not possess it. So long as God does not
destroy this wisdom, what can the people of K’uang do to me?” Confucius
seems to have been a superstitious man; he was apt to turn pale at a
thunderclap, and he sanctioned the practices of the village folk for
driving away evil spirits.

The most important features of his teaching are the high ideals which
he inculcated for the ruling of the State, and the stress he laid on
the obligations of men to their fellow-men, even more than on their
obligations towards God. One of his fundamental doctrines was that
all men are born radically good. This doctrine is not accepted--at all
events, at the present day--with regard to women; the Chinese would be
more inclined to say, “All women are born radically stupid,” or, as
the women themselves frequently put it, “We are only wooden-heads.”
Confucius also strongly advocated the duty of reverence and sincerity,
and “protested against any attempt to impose on God.” He rose from his
seat in the presence of any one dressed in mourning. The five cardinal
virtues taught by Confucius are righteousness, benevolence, politeness,
discernment of good, and sincerity.

It will be readily understood from the above brief account of
Confucianism that it is quite possible to combine it as a religion
either with Buddhism or Taoism, and in point of fact it is not unusual
for a Chinaman to profess all three religions at the same time, or
by turns. I was told in Shansi that sometimes a village would feel
aggrieved at their gods not having protected them from some disaster,
or given them sufficiently good crops, so they would decide to try
another religion for a time. The transformation in a village temple is
easily effected.

Not only were divine honours paid to Confucius, but his family also
were promoted to places of honour in the cult, and had adjoining
temples raised to them, though only his father was granted a statue. In
one of the temples is a fine series of stones engraved like brasses,
descriptive of the life of Confucius. These are so greatly admired
that it has been found necessary for their preservation to have papers
pasted across them intimating that rubbings are not to be taken from
them. Some of these tablets are fine specimens of writing--for Küfow is
above all places the home of Chinese literature--and the inscriptions
aim at being brief, telling, and enigmatic. Their value depends also on
beauty of style and calligraphy.

The temples are only about two hundred years old, as they have twice
been destroyed by lightning. The first time it happened, a thrill of
terror ran through the whole Empire: nothing further happened, so the
next time the nation took it quite calmly. There are no priests to look
after the place, and, to judge by its neglected appearance, the five
families exempted from taxation by some bygone emperor, in order that
they might devote themselves to the care of it, have become extinct.
The emperor used formerly to come at stated times in order to offer
sacrifices, as being the visible head of Confucianism, but now he
contents himself with sending every two or three years to decorate the
temple and keep it in repair.

As we were leaving it began to rain a little, so the soldiers and
police put on their hats, till then slung on their backs: when it rains
heavily they put up the scarlet umbrella as well!

[Illustration: CEMETERY OF CONFUCIUS]

After lunch we called on the magistrate to thank him for his
hospitality and to take leave of him, attended by all our retinue, plus
the rag-tag and bobtail of the town, with our card-case (measuring
11½ inches by 6½ inches) carried in front by the servant; then came
“Mr. Summers,” who had managed to raise a horse for the occasion.
Tea and cigarettes were handed round, and we were placed in seats of
honour on a sort of platform. We did not linger, as we were anxious to
complete our pilgrimage by visiting the grave of Confucius, situated
in a park a short distance outside the town. It is approached through
a series of gateways of varying sizes and importance. Long avenues
of cypresses lead from one gateway to another, and at last a spot is
reached from which every one is commanded to approach the grave on
foot. This is simple and dignified, as befits a sage--nothing but a
tablet bearing an inscription, set up on a plain low pedestal, shaded
by trees. Near it are the graves of other members of the family of
Confucius, which are much less modest. His grandson’s tablet has two
curious tall stone figures of servants on each side. This descendant
wrote a celebrated treatise called the “Doctrine of the Mean.”

In the evening the ladies of the family of the official to whom the
house in which we were staying belonged asked permission to call on us.
We entertained them and asked all the polite questions we could think
of, such as their names, where they came from (Chinese officials always
seem to be moving about the country), number of children, their age,
&c., and we were asked similar questions in return. Suddenly a hitherto
silent member of the party asked in a shrill tone, “What is your rank?”
a most difficult question to answer so that they could understand,
except in an ambiguous way. They were much pleased to drink “English”
tea, which is quite different from what is prepared for the Chinese
market, and to eat English cakes, some of which they carried away in
their handkerchiefs.

The following morning we took our leave, hoping that our guide would
prove his official skill by correctly tipping the various members of
the establishment, and the same ceremonies were gone through as on
our arrival. The guide sent the cook to “buy cash,” which was carried
after him, as he felt far too important to carry it himself. The
money worry was beginning to grow acute, as its value varies every
day, and at Küfow we found two complete systems of coinage in use,
one reckoning only half as much as the other; the 100 cash meaning
anything between 80 and 97, but never by any chance meaning 100. The
Government, not to mention banks and officials, reckons to get a
“squeeze” out of everything, so it is lucky that money is subdivided
into infinitesimally small values; 100 cash being worth about
twopence-halfpenny.

On leaving Küfow we took a somewhat different route from what we did in
coming, as we wished to visit a Buddhist monastery, and again we were
entertained by hospitable magistrates on the road. Evidently they have
found former travellers thirsty for something else than the national
beverage, so Münchenes Bier was provided. On the second day we had a
long stage--38 miles--to do, so we got up at 4.30. Alas! No sooner were
we ready than down came the rain, in a most uncompromising way, and
the men refused to set out. After waiting a couple of hours it seemed
to be clearing; we made a feeble start, but the men crept along like
snails, and their steps were so uncertain on the slippery ground as
to make us quite nervous. We got safely across the ferry, though the
water had risen a good deal considering how little rain had fallen. Our
soldier escort galloped away under his red umbrella, and we saw him no
more. The men set us down in an inn doorway on the farther side of the
river, provided themselves with hot sweet potatoes from an itinerant
vendor who happened to be passing, and refused to go any farther in
the rain. By dint of persuasion and the promise of sixpence each
extra (exorbitant sum!) if they would do the stage that day, we got
them to make a fresh start. We plodded slowly on for five hours, and
found we had done twenty miles by the time we reached our midday rest;
we halted for an hour, and the rain stopped, so that we got on much
better afterwards. During the rain there was not a creature to be seen
except ourselves in all the wide landscape, but the minute it stopped
the people appeared in every direction as if by magic. In the village
streets we found great difficulty, as the rain had converted them into
one big puddle, and the men tried to hop about from stone to stone.
When it grew dark we were terrified, and I clutched a large eider-down
pillow in readiness to cover my face when I should take the seemingly
inevitable plunge into the morass. However, we escaped all disaster,
and the men walked without stumbling through dry water-courses and
over rough boulders, and the cart jogged along over impossible places.
When the moon rose it was like fairyland; and at eight o’clock we
triumphantly trudged into our inn.

The following morning we started at six o’clock for the celebrated
Buddhist monastery of Lu, and reached it about 11.30. This monastery
is situated up a solitary valley about six miles from the high-road,
and the situation was splendid. It nestled in a hollow of lofty hills,
its tall pagoda standing out sharply from the trees. There was a pylon
part way up, and two stone bridges with yew-trees overarching them. The
buildings round the temple are not at all imposing, but the entrance
gate has a gilt Buddha seated in the centre, surrounded by four huge
statues, each of a different colour, representing tutelary deities
belonging to the Taoist religion; and back to back with Buddha was
another god.

[Illustration: MOUNTED MILITARY ESCORT]

The first temple we came to contained three seated Buddhas with a
curious rockwork background, but beyond it and up a flight of steps
was a much more imposing temple, of which both design and colouring
were a facsimile of what we had just seen at Küfow, only on a smaller
scale. It was impossible, judging by the exterior, to tell that it
was Buddhist and not Taoist or Confucian, but inside there was no
mistake. Buddha sat enthroned on a large lotus blossom, with a halo
behind him and a thousand little seated gilt Buddhas on shelves all
round the hall. Life-size figures of the 42 Lo Han were seated against
the walls, and amongst them were the two emperors, pointed out to us by
one of the monks. We discovered for ourselves a figure who we felt sure
was Marco Polo: he had the face of an Arab and wore a drapery over his
head, unlike any of the other figures; the monk could only tell us that
he was a man from the West. What would Marco Polo have said if he could
have foreseen that he would be placed among the Buddhist “holy ones”?

The rest of our journey back to Tsinan was accomplished safely in two
and a half days.




CHAPTER VIII

The Yellow River and Grand Canal


We had little difficulty in deciding which route to take from Tsinan to
Tientsin, as the railway journey to Tsingtao and by ship thence were
both equally disliked by us. We determined to strike across country
(travelling in the same way as to Küfow) as far as Tehchow on the Grand
Canal, and to go up it by boat to Tientsin--in all, a week’s journey.
The country is flat and not nearly so varied as the rest of the
province, but it contained one most interesting experience for us, the
crossing of the Yellow River. When we reached its banks we saw a far
more turbulent flood than that of the Yangtze, and of the same dull mud
colour. It took a little time to arrange for us to be ferried across
and then to get our cart and mules on board, and we had time to study
the route to be taken, as there was a large amount of traffic at this
point. It seemed strange that there was no bridge across, especially
when we saw the difficulty of navigating it; but it may be that, as the
river is so capricious in its choice of a bed, the authorities consider
it not worth while to build a bridge. The enormous amount of silt and
mud which it brings down with it soon fills up the bed and causes
frightful inundations. Dikes have to be built, and when they are broken
through by flood a most extraordinary method of repairing them is used.
A sort of gigantic pad of earth and stones, in a basket-work made of
_kaoliang_ (= sorghum) stalks and roots, is prepared and lowered into
the breach by means of ropes, thousands of coolies being employed on
the task. None but Chinese could devise or manage to execute such a
work. On one occasion over 4000 people were drowned by the breaking
down of a dike. Now the Government is seriously considering how to deal
with the difficulty of controlling the course of the river. When we
were safely on board the large ferry-boat, the boatmen towed us up the
river-bank for about half-an-hour till we came to a point at which we
could start, and then they came on board to row. It taxed their powers
to the utmost, and by dint of straining every nerve they landed us at
a point just opposite to that from which we originally started. Their
work looked the most arduous I have ever seen.

In the year 1852 the Yellow River took a new course (which was still
further changed in 1887) from the south of the province of Honan, in
a north-east instead of a south-east direction, so that now it falls
into the Gulf of Chili instead of into the Yellow Sea, to the south
of the province of Shantung. Its present mouth is some three hundred
miles distant from its former one. It has with good reason been named
“China’s Sorrow.” Like the Yangtze, it rises in the mountains of
Tibet, and follows a devious course of 2500 miles through northern
China; but unlike the Yangtze, the main highway of commerce, the Yellow
River or Hwang Ho is of no use for trade purposes. A decree has just
been issued granting ten sticks of great Tibetan incense to be burnt
at the altar of the Dragon King Temple (riverine deity) in token of
Imperial gratitude because there was a peaceful river last year.
This is done in response to the report of the Governor of Chili; and
rewards have been given to a number of officials for their vigilance in
connection with the Yellow River conservancy.

The following day we wanted to visit an American hospital a little more
than a mile off the high-road to Tehchow, and had no end of difficulty
in first persuading the men to permit the visit and then in finding
the road. We decided to let “Mr. Summer” and the luggage go straight
on to Tehchow, to get arrangements made for the boat, the kind Irish
postmaster at Tsinan having sent word to his subordinate there to
get us one. We progressed but slowly, asking every creature we met
which was the way. The Chinese peasant is a stolid being, doing his
task and taking little account of anything else, but at last we did
arrive, and spent a couple of hours seeing school, hospital, &c. The
result of our slow progress in the morning was that we did not reach
Tehchow till it was pitch-dark, and by mistake our men were not told
to go to the post-office for “Mr. Summer,” while we waited at the
mission-room of the people whom we had just visited. In vain we
tried to make the servant understand, and the evangelist’s household
was equally uncomprehending, but kindly brought us tea. After much
consultation over our affairs they fetched a young man who spoke
English beautifully, and he at once set about finding “Mr. Summer” and
getting food for us. He was a student from Peking, and asked what we
should have done if no one had been found who knew English, and after
a short time “Mr. Summer” and the postmaster turned up. They had been
hunting for us outside the city, and somehow had missed us in the dark.

[Illustration: OUR HOUSEBOAT, GRAND CANAL]

Next morning we went on board the house-boat, and had a comfortable
but somewhat tame journey up the Grand Canal, which hardly comes up to
its name. I spent nearly an hour sketching our house-boat in the rosy
light of sunrise before the men were ready to start; certainly the spot
was not very picturesque. This was by no means the first canal to be
made in China, though it is the one best known to Europeans. I shall
venture to quote at length an interesting description of a much earlier
canal from a paper read to the China Society in London by H. E. Lord Li
Ching-Fong, the Chinese Ambassador[5] to our own Court: “Once during an
inundation in China artificial channels were cut in order that the nine
rivers might carry all the surplus water to the sea. Even mountains
were tunnelled for the purpose of constructing canals. Henceforth the
ground was cultivated again and the havoc was avoided. To the sagacity
of Yew we attribute the merit of this undertaking, which we regard as
one of the most remarkable works of man. It was begun in 2283 B.C.
and ended in 2272 B.C.” The Grand Canal was begun in the thirteenth
century, and is over 2000 miles long, but where we entered it it is
really a small natural river, and we were either towed or rowed most
of the way to Tientsin, with not much assistance from the sail. It was
formerly used for the transport of grain (the imperial tribute), but
since 1900 the sea route has been used instead, and the value of the
canal decreases daily, owing to the continually increasing facilities
of transport, both by rail and by sea. We passed many villages, but
only one of the forty-one cities which lie on its banks. On the fourth
day we came to the custom-house outside Tientsin at 9 A.M., and
asked “Mr. Summer” to inquire if we could not go by ricksha to our
destination, as that would save time. He came back with the information
that it could not be done, so we resigned ourselves to wait. Afterwards
we learnt that it is _always_ done, and that it would have taken us
less than an hour to go by ricksha or steam tram, and saved us six
hours of passing through the dirtiest conceivable waterway, which our
noses told us was the sewer of the town! It is impossible to describe
the disgustingness of what we saw, really quite the nastiest thing in
China, and one could only feel thankful that at least a good deal of
the native quarter had been destroyed during the siege.

Tientsin is one of the most Europeanised towns of China, and it is
not only an active commercial port but is the centre of the Chinese
educational movement. This was vigorously and successfully organised
by Yuan Shih Kai. He made a complete system of primary and secondary
schools for both sexes, and besides the middle schools there are
special schools of engineering, languages, medicine, &c., including a
medical training-college for women, with a well qualified Chinese lady
doctor at the head of it, who was trained in America.

There is also an excellent Anglo-Chinese Mission College, founded in
1902, of which Dr. Lavington Harl, M.A., D.Sc., is the principal. Last
year the students numbered 320, of whom sixty were boarders and the
remainder day scholars. The curriculum now includes full training for
chemical analysts and a school of electrical engineering, while it is
intended to open a law school during the current year, 1909. Yuan Shih
Kai gave evidence of his broad-mindedness by contributing 6000 taels
to the building fund of the last block, opened in 1907. Some of the
students have found this college an excellent preparation for school
life in England.

Tientsin is the first city in the Empire to boast of municipal
government on Western lines, and for this also Yuan Shih Kai is
responsible. The Chinese are a wonderfully law-abiding people, and it
is only necessary to look at our neighbouring port of Wei-hai-wei to
see a remarkable instance of this. With an area of 285 square miles
and a population of 150,000 inhabitants, a force of fifty-seven native
police and three English inspectors is found quite sufficient to keep
perfect order.

It can be no matter for surprise that Tientsin is now to be made the
capital of the province of Chili instead of Paoting-fu, a city of much
less importance under the changed conditions produced by recent events.

Here we took leave of “Mr. Summer,” having already made arrangements
for another Chinaman to go with us from Peking to Burma.




CHAPTER IX

Journey into Shansi in 1893


I now must go back to my first coming to Tientsin in 1893. From
Shanghai I came in a coasting steamer, and it was after starting that
I made the rather disconcerting discovery that I was the only woman on
board. Nevertheless it was the pleasantest voyage I ever had, as my
cabin had a proper bed in it and its own bathroom, and I made the happy
discovery that Chinese servants could be the best in the world, while
the officers all conspired to amuse me. The voyage lasted a week, and
the slow passage up the mouth of the Peiho (_ho_ means “river”) was
quite a new experience. We ran into the soft banks pretty frequently,
and they crumbled like dust; sometimes we were in imminent danger
of carrying away a hut as well, but happily that did not occur. One
dreadful object kept recurring again and again--a tall pole on the
river-bank with a basket on the top, containing a criminal’s head.

At Tientsin I was met by one of my sisters and her husband, who had
come to take me into Shansi. The European town was very dull and
prosaic, and the native city abjectly squalid, but now the former
is well laid out and there are plenty of large houses, shops,
schools, colleges, and tramways. I was not sorry to get away from it,
however, as I was anxious to see the real China, and we soon got our
things accommodated in a small house-boat to travel up the river to
Paoting-fu. Three little compartments were all we had, but we spent
a good part of each day walking on the banks and admiring the lovely
autumn colouring of the rushes. On my return a year later we were not
so fortunate, as the war with Japan was in full swing, so that the
country was too disturbed for us to walk about, and we had to take
whatever could be got in the way of a boat, namely, one infested with
cockroaches and other vermin. For three days and nights we sat in
misery, scarcely able to eat or sleep, and when we opened our trunks at
Tientsin we found them simply swarming with cockroaches. They had eaten
all the straw of a bonnet, leaving nothing but lining and trimmings!

[Illustration: CAMEL INN]

At Paoting-fu we left the river, and I had a mule litter while the
others rode. These litters are the most horrible invention, as the
mules perpetually tumble down, and even though you pad the sides with
your bedding you get much shaken. When we came to a river we had to
ford it or be ferried across, for there are no bridges in this part,
and often the rivers are very dangerous. On the roads we met long
strings of camels carrying packs, the tail of one animal being attached
to the nose of the one behind. They have inns of their own, being
cantankerous beasts, and are supposed to travel at nights, because
of being such an obstruction to traffic. Certainly if you lie awake
you can generally hear the tinkle of their bells. They are a most
attractive feature of the landscape in the north, whether seen in the
streets of Peking, or on the sandy plains of Chili. My sketch was taken
in the summer when the camels were changing their coats, so that the
one in the front has a grey, dishevelled look, corresponding with Mark
Twain’s description. He says that camels always look like “second-hand”
goods; but it is clear that he cannot know the fine stately beast of
North China.

The road leading to Taiyüanfu--our objective--was always thronged
with traffic, men on foot, on horseback, in chairs, or in carts. The
official messengers wore yellow, and dashed along faster than any one
else; but one day we met six mandarins in four-bearer chairs, carrying
an important document from the Emperor at Peking into Szechwan, the
western province. They were received everywhere ceremoniously, and
crackers sent off in their honour; they were accompanied by a military
escort and gorgeous banners.

At nights we often had to put up in wretched inns. The cold was extreme
at this time of year (November), and the brick bedsteads were heated
from underneath by a fire. This was all very well if it was properly
regulated, but sometimes it was allowed to get too hot, and then you
woke to find yourself baked like a biscuit. The nights were short, for
we often arrived after dark and had to get up at 4.30. Even then it
was difficult to get the men started at six, sometimes only at seven
o’clock. The clear cold moonlight mornings were very lovely, and I was
glad enough to walk to keep warm.

One day my brother-in-law made a détour to visit a village where there
is an interesting Christian community, whose history is a remarkable
one. It was the home of a thief, who in his wanderings happened to go
into a mission hall and heard the story of the life of Christ. The
next time he returned home, amongst other items of news he retailed
what he could remember of this strange story, and so deeply interested
the listeners that they found his knowledge far too meagre to satisfy
them; they decided to send two of their most respected seniors to
learn more about it. These men went to the mission station, were
carefully instructed and became Christians. They returned to their
village in course of time, taking a supply of Christian literature,
and thenceforward they have given themselves entirely to the work of
evangelisation _at their own cost_. Occasionally a missionary goes
round to see them--as in the present instance--but otherwise they work
steadily and successfully, without any assistance from Europeans. This
is an example of a fact which holds good in China generally, namely,
that the people do not leave mission work to be done only by the
missionaries, but become the best workers themselves when they have
accepted Christianity. What Mr. James (of the Bombay Civil Service)
says of the work of the Presbyterians in Manchuria exemplifies this
same fact: “Of 600 people who have been baptized since Mr. Ross came
to Manchuria, not more than a dozen owe their conversion primarily or
chiefly to the foreign missionaries; the others have become disciples
of these converts, and this spiritual seed has produced within a dozen
years the sixth or seventh generation.” This is the experience of
workers throughout the Empire, and was expressed by a Chinese lady
visiting England in a pathetic appeal for more missionaries: “If only
you will send us teachers _now_--_for a few years_--we will do the
rest.”

To return to our narrative, my brother-in-law brought the two Chinese
elders with him when he rejoined us on the road, and they greeted
us like old friends, with radiant happiness. It was inspiring to
see their simple, heartfelt piety and their absolute realisation of
Christian brotherhood. We chanced to come across them again a year
later on my return journey to the coast, and again I saw their simple,
joyous faith, the sincerity of which could not be doubted by the most
cynical sceptic. It was the one bright spot in an otherwise very
trying and anxious journey, for the country was much disturbed, owing
to the war with Japan, and one of our party was ill with fever--a boy
of seven--and growing daily worse, so that when we at last reached
Tientsin he had a temperature of 107°.

When we approached the province of Shansi we got into a hilly
district, and crossed several ridges called “the Heavenly Gates.” In
some cases the ascent was pretty steep (2860 feet), and there were
temples at the bottom where the coolies prayed for a safe journey up.
When I stopped to sketch it aroused much interest, and spectators
always treated me with respect. It was explained to them that I desired
to show my mother the beauties of their country, so I became the type
of English “filial piety”!

The dangers of the road are numerous, and crossing the rivers is often
a very perilous proceeding: sometimes it is possible to ford them,
but the river-beds are so changeable that it was usually necessary to
have the guidance of experienced men. Sometimes we had to be carried
across on men’s backs, and it is not altogether a pleasant experience
to cling on to a bare, greasy back in a kneeling position, with your
arms round a most unwashed neck! Sometimes we were ferried over, which
was much the safest and pleasantest way of crossing, and the charge is
infinitesimally small.

Another danger of the road arises from the nature of the soil, which is
largely a loess formation. The road runs through deep gulleys, often
over 100 feet deep and quite narrow, but the loess walls are apt to
give way, especially after rain. One day we were walking quietly along
under a high cliff, when a deafening thunderclap close behind us made
us start and look back, to see a dense cloud of dust where the cliff
had fallen right across the path we had just traversed. We had a very
close shave that time. About a year later my cousin was killed by the
similar breaking down of a road alongside a river; she was riding in a
cart, and was buried under it in the river. A friend who was with her
had just got out to walk a little, and consequently escaped.

During the rains travellers are often drowned by the sudden rush of
water down the gullies, and there are places of refuge in the high
banks--little caves or hollows. In some of the villages where we had
to stop the night the houses were dug in these cliffs, and were really
caves. The smells were atrocious, as there was but little ventilation.
The chimneys form danger traps to the unwary traveller walking along
the top of the cliffs; he may easily step into one, if he is not
looking carefully where he is going.

The day before we reached Tai Yuänfu, the capital of Shansi, we stopped
at a mission station in the charge of a delightful, courtly old Chinese
evangelist, whose hospitality I enjoyed several times. He treated us
royally, cooking dinner for us in European style, and would have been
sorely grieved had we offered him any remuneration. When the troubles
came later, not only he but every member of his little flock--forty-one
in all--were “faithful unto death,” refusing to accept life at the
price of recantation.

The journey from the coast took altogether a fortnight, and I was glad
when at last we reached the wide plain in which Tai Yuänfu is situated.
In May it is a vision of loveliness with its crops of millet, sorghum,
and poppy--white and puce colour--but now it was one monotonous expanse
of dust. The dust storms which blow across the plain are terribly
trying; they are as bewildering and as blinding as a fog, and they
sometimes go on daily for weeks during the early part of the year.

Shansi is one of the worst provinces of all as regards opium-smoking,
and the poppy is largely cultivated. In the accompanying sketch a group
of patients is seen, who have come to a mission refuge to try and
break off the habit. They are allowed to smoke tobacco, but are mostly
resting or sleeping on the khang; the brick bed seen in every inn and
in most private houses. On the floor in front of it is seen a small
round aperture, where the fire is fed, which heats the whole khang. The
present Governor of Shansi is taking active steps to put down opium
cultivation, and the prospect seems hopeful. Revenons à nos moutons.
When we reached the city gate there was a slight delay, as carts are
apt to get jammed in it. Though the gateway is large it is considerably
blocked by stones, set up by a former governor to prevent carts of
above a certain gauge from entering the city: this was to encourage
the trade of the wheelwrights. Now there is a railway right up to the
walls of the city, but from what I have already said it will be easily
understood how difficult a task it has been to construct a safe line.
The railway joins the Péhan line at Cheng Ting.

[Illustration: OPIUM REFUGE]




CHAPTER X

Taiyüanfu


Taiyüan is surrounded by a lofty wall, with a gateway at each of the
four points of the compass. The Chinese always use these terms when we
should use “right” and “left”: they speak of the position of furniture
in a room, for instance, as being north, south, east, or west, and can
always tell you the relative positions of places and things in that
way. It is the seat of the Government of the province, and was the
first place in the Empire to have a Western university after the 1900
troubles.

The finest of all its temples--whether Confucian, Buddhist,
Mohammedan, or Taoist--is the temple of Heaven and Hell. The entrance
is magnificent in colouring, with roof and walls covered with
turquoise-coloured tiles peculiar to this province, which make its
temples so much more beautiful than those in the west. There are
interesting but repulsive statues within, mostly depicting the torments
of hell. In one temple, however, there is a deity to which childless
women especially come to pray. She is a hideous figure about life
size, with a gaping mouth, into which they stuff raw eggs by way
of offering. On the adjoining wall is a fresco representing people
receiving babies out of a cash-bag full of them, which a man carries
over his shoulder.

I visited the temple at the time of a large fair, which was held in
its courtyards (a common custom in China), and had one of the teachers
in attendance, to his great disgust, as it is not the correct thing
for Chinese _ladies_ to go to fairs, and European manners had not
yet penetrated to this part of the Empire. It was a very fine sight,
notwithstanding the absence of the élite, for the women and children
were most gaily attired--and then the setting! They were all perfectly
civil to us and ready to talk. A woman was feeding her five-year-old
baby, not yet weaned. Family parties kept arriving on donkeys, and
women had their feet tied up in bags to protect their dainty shoes
from the dust of the road. At one side theatricals were going on, to
a loud and ceaseless accompaniment of drums. The theatres are all
connected with the temples, a visible sign of their origin in the East
as well as in the West; and the theatre and temple dues are collected
together. Actors are looked down on, and none is allowed to compete in
the literary examinations; they are in the lowest grade of society.
The accompanying sketch gives some idea of the beautiful colour scheme
of temple and theatre eaves. It is the open-air stage of a theatre at
Showyang, about sixty miles from Taiyüan. The little figures of beasts
on the roof are a characteristic feature.

[Illustration: THEATRE STAGE]

The stalls were full of interesting objects from all parts of the
province, and we went round buying various things that took our fancy.
There were handsome embroideries and lovely silks, and I was surprised
to find that we could take whatever we liked without paying for it; it
was sufficient to say, “Come to the mission hospital to-morrow and the
doctor will pay.” No Chinaman could have had better credit, and few, I
think, as good, in this city.

From the temple of Heaven and Hell we returned past the barracks, and
saw the men practising walking on stilts; apparently that was part
of their drill, as finally they all filed off into the yard on them.
The soldiers are quite a decent set of men, and one of the officers
frequently sent them to the hospital to be broken of the opium habit.
It is terribly common here. In a neighbouring town it is estimated that
90 per cent. of the population (men, women, and children) are smokers.

From Taiyüanfu we made an interesting little excursion to a place
to the south-west called Tsinssu, where there is a magnificent old
temple on the rocky hillside dominating the village. The temple is
overshadowed by hoary trees, and has remarkable golden dragons twisted
round the pillars of the façade. In the grounds are hot springs, and
the water flows under an ornamental bridge leading to the terrace on
which the temple stands. Had it not been for the hot water it would
have been impossible to sketch, as the water froze on the surface of
the paper, and every few minutes I had to put my paint-box in the
stream to thaw the coating of ice formed on the colours. The subject,
however, was so charming that I could not waste the one chance I had
of sketching, and in the afternoon I made a rapid drawing of a pagoda,
with the little bells hung on each story tinkling in the breeze; an
adjacent tower looked precisely like an English church, but its real
use was as a granary. The hot springs are valuable in enabling the
people to grow rice, which is not grown elsewhere so far north, and it
is the motive-power of many paper-mills in the district. In a recent
expedition roe-deer, leopards, boars, and David squirrels have been
found in this neighbourhood, but we saw nothing more interesting than
a beautiful pastoral scene--a shepherd lad piping a melancholy ditty
to his sheep under the clear blue sky. I should like to have sketched
him, but the shadows were already lengthening, and we had to hasten our
return before the city gates were closed.

[Illustration: PAGODA]

We attended a review one day, and saw the old régime in its full glory,
now already a thing of the past. We started at 7 A.M. in the cart, and
although the parade-ground was only a quarter of a mile away we were
none too early. The soldiers were already mustered, and two gorgeously
arrayed officials were seated in state under a canopy waiting for the
Governor, with a fine sort of helmet on a stand behind them. He arrived
shortly after we did, and although there was a drizzling rain the
numberless banners looked lovely, bowing down while the Governor
passed, and then floating proudly up again. Many of them were pale-blue
silk and carried on long bamboo rods. There were a good many soldiers
mounted on smart ponies that scampered along bravely; but the black
turbans surmounting the blue or red uniforms made them look rather like
women. Some of them were armed with bows and arrows, slung on their
backs; others had prehistoric guns which required two men to work them,
one to hold and the other to fire off by means of a lighted stick of
incense, which at other times was thrust (lighted) into the soldier’s
chest, where also he carried his powder!

One regiment was a great contrast to the others--the celebrated tiger
braves. They were clad cap-à-pie in yellow cloth striped with black,
even the boots and cap being of the same material. The latter was most
cunningly made, with little pink-lined ears which stood erect, and
ferocious black eyes, and white fangs, and a red tongue hanging out.
This alarming costume was supposed to render all further equipment
unnecessary, and I asked one of the “braves” if he had no weapon, on
which he showed me merely an ordinary knife stuck in his waistband.
I asked if he would sell me his uniform, but as he could not do that
he lent it, and I had an exact copy made. On my return home Mr.
Chamberlain saw it, and was struck with the idea that the braves scared
away the enemy by their uniform and their roaring, and made a telling
use of it later on in describing the tactics of “the opposition”!

Yet a step farther back in history, it is interesting to learn how the
soldiers used to travel in earlier times. A model has recently been
constructed (by Professor Hopkinson) of the chariot used to convey
eighteen soldiers. This chariot was in use about a thousand years ago
in China, and registered distance, a gong sounding at the end of every
“li” (about one-third of a mile), and a bell at the end of every ten
“li.” This vehicle was called the “measure-mile drum carriage,” and it
is from the description of the mechanism given in the writings of the
period that the professor has made his model. An ode was written in its
honour. The chariot was drawn by four horses.

[Illustration: TIGER BRAVE]

The main features of the review were the sword exercises, varied with
turning somersaults, the charging of soldiers with two-pronged pikes,
accompanied by roaring--and various feats of horsemanship. The men
rode about clinging to their horses from underneath, or jumped on them
going at full gallop. The review lasted all day, and we got tired long
before it was over. The military examinations of officers were on the
old lines, and success in getting promotion depended on the _strength_
shown in drawing a bow, or lifting a weight. Two officers came to
hospital for treatment on account of having overstrained themselves by
their exertions, and were anxious lest they should be disqualified in
consequence. Now everything is changed. There are military colleges
springing up, where everything is modelled on the military systems of
the West, and students go in increasing numbers to Europe to study
these at first hand. The Ministry of War has decided to adopt the same
gradations of rank as those of the British army and navy respectively;
thus a second lieutenant in the navy will be of equal rank with a
senior lieutenant in the army, and so on. In the past, military service
was one of the two only ways in which it was possible in China to climb
the social ladder.

In September 1904 I saw one of the last great triennial examinations,
to which students came from all parts of the province. It opened with
a great procession, headed by the Governor and examiners who had come
from Peking. Some of the big men rode in chairs, preceded by scarlet
umbrellas, and boys carrying boards enjoining silence, many banners
and discordant drums. It seemed as if all the rag-tag and bobtail of
the city had been collected to grace the occasion; they were decked
out in magenta felt hats and scarlet cloaks which by no means covered
their rags and dirt. Some wore scarlet and gilt, others green and
gilt caps, but no shoes on their feet. The three principal men were
carried on chairs, raised on little platforms and covered with yellow
rugs, supposed to represent the imperial dragon. The imperial letters
were carried (wrapped in yellow cloth) across the shoulders of men on
horseback, and the imperial seals under gay canopies. The examination
buildings are extensive, and are well seen from the city wall. There
are 10,000 cells, arranged in rows of 100 each in alleys closed by a
door. Each cell is about 6 feet high, 4 feet wide, and 5 feet deep, and
is provided with a sliding seat and a board for writing on, which the
student can slide into the same groove as the seat to curl up on at
night, for he has to spend three days and nights without leaving it.
The cell is open in front, and an invigilator walks up and down to see
that no cheating goes on. If the student is taken ill he may not leave,
and if he dies (not an infrequent occurrence at examination times) his
body is simply put over the wall at the outside end of the alley. These
examinations are competitive, and there may be only thirty or forty
vacancies for thousands of students. At Canton there are 25,000 cells
in the examination hall, and each province has its own examination, to
which students of other provinces may not come. There are characters at
the end of the rows of cells, drawn from one of the classics, which are
used as numerals, to distinguish the rows from one another.

It is interesting to observe what supreme importance is attached by
the Chinese to learning and to morals. Learning is the main road
to eminence; the only other one--the military service--is quite
subsidiary. The highest grade of the people is the Sze, the scholar,
and from it all public servants are drawn. There is no bar to prevent
men of other grades passing into this class, provided they fit
themselves to do so and pass the necessary examinations. There are
six examinations possible.

[Illustration: OLD EXAMINATION BUILDINGS]

The first examination is held yearly by the district magistrate; it
lasts for three days, and the candidate has to write two essays, one on
poetry. The second examination is held (generally a few months later)
in a prefectural town, and is therefore called Fu Kau, or country
examination. The students who pass this examination are called Shu
Tsai. The third examination (only open to those who have passed the
previous one) is the triennial one, which takes place in the capital
of each province, as above described, and is called the Ju Jen degree.
This time the candidate has to write several more essays than for the
Shu Tsai degree; the quality most valued in these essays is skill in
quotation, both as to the number of quotations made from the classics
and the way in which they are combined--this might aptly be compared
to a string of pearls. The candidates who obtain the Ju Jen degree are
alone eligible for the degree of Tsin Sze. This fourth examination
takes place triennially at Peking. The candidate is confined for nine
days in a small compartment in the examination building. No matter how
great the discomfort of this confinement may be, he has to write nine
essays. I obtained the most fascinating little crib containing the
whole classics, not larger than one inch square, which would offer a
severe temptation under such circumstances to the most conscientious
student! If the candidate is successful with his nine essays he
receives the title of Tsin Sze, but if not, he may be appointed to a
clerkship of a more or less important nature, according to the merit of
his essays.

A yet higher degree may be obtained called the Tien Sze, because it
is held in one of the buildings of the Imperial Palace. The student
at the head of the list is called Cheong Yuan; the second is Paun
Yien; the third is called Tua Hwa, and the fourth Chuan Lo To. Their
official title, which is also given to other successful candidates in
this examination, is Han Lin Yuan Shu Chi Sze, and they are obliged
to study for the next three years at the Han Lin Yuan for the next
examination. The successful candidates are retained at the Han Lin,
and the unsuccessful ones receive posts of lesser importance, such as
magistracies and other civil appointments. They are considered to have
a first claim to all such appointments.[6]

This old examination system is being replaced by one in which Western
subjects are to a large extent taking the place of the classics. Since
1904 the degrees of the Ju Jen and Han Lin have been granted in this
way to students educated abroad and examined on their return to China.
At the present time there are about 300 Chinese students in England,
studying mainly law, medicine, engineering, and manufactures: some
are still in public schools, grammar schools, &c.; others are at the
English or Scotch universities.

[Illustration: SOUTHERN SERVANT]

[Illustration: SCHOLAR]

In the accompanying sketch of a scholar, the gold square worn on the
chest and a corresponding one on the back are equivalent to the hoods
granted by our universities, and the different designs on them indicate
the kind of degree. Wives of scholars have also the right to wear the
same insignia as their husbands.

The city of Taiyüanfu as described in this chapter is already a
thing of the past. Now a railway comes to its very gates. New
European-looking buildings are springing up in every direction; the
streets are being widened and properly paved, officials drive about in
smart broughams, and there is a daily delivery of letters instead of a
private post once a fortnight.

I return to Tientsin and take up the thread of my narrative in 1907. No
sooner had we arrived there than a Chinese friend, clad in a beautiful
maize-coloured silk gown, came to call. He had come from Peking
expressly to meet us, and escorted us there next day, being an old
friend of my Taiyüanfu days. We were seen off in the _Chinese_ railway
(so much preferable to the German and Belgian lines) next day by one of
the directors, who had kindly ordered a special reserved carriage for
us. A few hours of pleasant travel, with tea served on board, brought
us to the special goal of our ambition--Peking.




CHAPTER XI

Peking


We reached Peking after dark, which was fortunate, as the glamour of
all one’s youthful dreams was not at once dispelled by being brought
face to face with the prosaic European Legations which lie just within
the gates. At the railway station, which is close to the great gate
leading to the Summer Palace, we emerged into a shouting, jostling
Chinese crowd, and were put into rickshas by the friends--Chinese and
American--who had come to meet us. Police were keeping order after a
fashion most necessary, for I saw a pushing fellow seize an unlucky man
who was having a dispute and fling his ricksha to the ground as if it
were a dirty rag. When we and our luggage had been safely packed into
a ricksha we were swiftly drawn over the most shocking roads, through
the great gloomy gates, into the city. Everywhere we seemed surrounded
by towering walls of vast thickness. Over the chief gateway is a large
temple containing the tutelary deities, which may give some idea of
this thickness. It rises tier above tier and is painted a beautiful
Venetian red, and the tiles are a bright blue-green; the overhanging
eaves are of carved woodwork, painted blue and green and gold. Opposite
this entrance is that of the imperial palace, above which one sees its
orange-coloured tiles. From the top of the wall one gets a fine view
of the long approach to the palace, gateway beyond gateway, in true
Chinese style, and stretching on every side an endless vista of trees
and roofs of the city. Formerly this was a favourite _point de vue_ for
watching royalties when they drove out, but now no one is allowed to do
this, and notice is sent to the various embassies requesting foreigners
to stay indoors when the royal family is taking an airing!

[Illustration: CITY WALL OF PEKING]

From the great gate eastward, part of the wall was held during the
siege by the Americans, aided by twenty British and twenty Russian
soldiers. One morning they awoke to find that during the night the
Chinese had built a tower on it, of about twenty feet high, overlooking
them. All the next day they had to lie close under their criss-cross
defences, but it was clear that unless the tower were seized the
Chinese would soon be masters of the situation. Captain Myers planned
its capture, inviting volunteers to help him, and naturally the twenty
British soldiers responded promptly. It was arranged that the Americans
and British should get round it from the outer side of the wall, and
the Russians join them from the inner side. When the time came for the
plan to be carried out it was quite successful, except for the fact
that no Russians took part in it, and that Captain Myers was severely
wounded. As we stood listening to the story from one of the besieged
we saw a touching scene in the American barracks below us. A man
entered carrying home mails, and shouted out the fact. In a moment men
came flying from every quarter of the hitherto empty yard with hands
outstretched; one could almost see the throb of delight with which the
letters were seized. But this was in time of peace, and we could but
dimly realise what far greater excitement was caused by the arrival
of a messenger from Tientsin during the siege, after the sickening
suspense of hope deferred. How deadly must have been the disappointment
when the brief message ran that help was coming, but not a word as to
_when_, merely the egoistic remark that in Tientsin they also had been
besieged!

My sketch is taken on the top of the wall, and shows the part held by
the Americans: it extends from the spot where I was standing as far as
the building over the great gate, and the embassies are close below the
wall on the right-hand side.

The accounts of the siege which we heard from all those who had lived
through it agreed in one respect--the singular defencelessness of
the besieged, and the ease with which they might have been wiped
out--leading one to conceive the probability of what a Chinese resident
told me, that their commander-in-chief determined that this should not
be done. The time that followed the siege seems to have been really in
many ways worse than the siege itself for those who remained in Peking.

Far the most impressive monument here is the altar of Heaven, which
lies at a short distance outside the inner city in an ancient park,
surrounded by a high wall. Passing through a simple doorway, you drive
in your ricksha up an avenue of acacias for a short distance till
you come to another wall, and here you must get out before entering
the inner park. The trees were already beginning to look autumnal
(November) as we made our way across the coarse grass into another
high-walled enclosure, surrounded by a moat; we had to knock for
admittance to a large courtyard, where the Emperor spends the night
once a year before offering the great national sacrifice to Heaven. All
the roofs of the buildings round the courtyard were of brilliant green
tiles, and contrasted beautifully with the marble terrace, balustrades,
and bridges. From here the Emperor goes at 5.30 A.M., accompanied by
his courtiers, to the great marble altar of Heaven, about one-fifth
of a mile distant across the park. Fine stone pylons lead to the
altar, but the paths are overgrown with grass, and there is a look
of desolation brooding over the place. The altar is a high circular
platform of marble, with three short flights of steps leading up from
each of the four points of the compass. The Emperor ascends these
steps, accompanied by his courtiers, but only those over seventy years
of age may go up the top flight and remain with him while he kneels
in the centre, under the vault of Heaven, to offer his sacrificial
prayer. No spectator is ever allowed to be present. At the foot of the
steps the sacrifice is offered, but the Emperor is no longer obliged
to slay the bullock himself, as in the old days. This act is delegated
to a high official. The sacrificial beasts are reared and kept in the
surrounding park. Twelve bales of cloth are burnt in great braziers
as an offering to Heaven; they are placed at short distances from one
another, and each time there is a new emperor a new brazier is erected.
Everything is round, as being emblematic of Heaven, while in the temple
to Earth everything is square, because the earth is supposed to be
square, and in the latter the sacrifices are buried instead of being
burnt, so that they may go down instead of up!

Close to the altar of Heaven is a small round enclosure containing a
temple roofed with gorgeous lapis-lazuli blue tiles, like the adjoining
temple of Heaven, which is erected on a marble platform exactly similar
to the altar of Heaven.

[Illustration: TEMPLE OF HEAVEN]

There are two particularly fine Buddhist temples at Peking, one
outside and the other inside the walls, the former being a monastic
establishment and swarming with degraded-looking monks. It has the
imperial double-storied roofs of a noble orange colour, and it was
a picturesque sight to see the orange-robed monks trooping into the
courtyard to evening prayer. There were many young boys amongst them,
probably sent from Manchuria as a thank-offering for the recovery of
a father from severe illness, and consequently doomed to a life of
idleness and ignorance. The Buddhist monks are notorious in this city
for their low morals, and the signs of it are unmistakably stamped
upon their faces; they do no work of any kind, and live upon the alms
given by worshippers or which they have begged, according to the
rules of the order. It is comic to see the Buddhist monks strutting
along under huge orange umbrellas, nose in air, followed by a servant
carrying the compulsory begging bowl! The head of the monastery is an
incarnate Buddha. In the chief temple of this monastery is a gigantic
standing figure of Buddha, and you can go up a staircase to inspect
the head, which is otherwise hardly visible in the gloom of the lofty
building, whose only light comes from the doorway. In the smaller
buildings are other Buddhas of various kinds, and the Bodhisattwa, the
1000-handed goddess Kwanyin.

In the Lama temple, three miles outside the city, there are figures of
the goddess of mercy, beside the three seated Buddhas, and she is to
be found in many of the temples. She was originally a man, but had the
heart of a woman! Here we were dreadfully pestered by dirty children,
whom the priest tried ineffectually to keep in order. Each courtyard
we came to had to be unlocked, but he always let them pass through
with us, clamouring for money. The great feature of the yellow temple
is a marble monument to the memory of a lama who came from Tibet and
died of smallpox. It is composed of white marble, and the centre has a
fine series of carvings round it illustrating scenes from the life of
the Buddha. Unfortunately, after the siege of Peking French soldiers
were quartered here, and they are said to have amused themselves by
knocking off the head of every single figure. The effect of the white
marble and gold in the midst of hoary cypresses is very fine. This
is where the Dalai Lama was lodged during his stay in Peking.[7] It
must have been a picturesque scene on his arrival, when he entered the
sacred precincts, passing between two long rows of yellow-clad monks.
Would that we had been there to see it, instead of at such a dreary
season! We had come in the face of considerable difficulties, but it
was well worth while; the wind blowing when we started in rickshas
soon developed into a typical Chili dust-storm, and soon after leaving
the city the men declared they could go no further. Having no other
chance of visiting the place, we determined not to be baulked and set
out on foot. We struggled bravely forward through stinging, blinding
dust till we got under the lee of its high wall. The return journey
was not so bad, as the wind was behind us, and we could enjoy watching
other passengers whom we met in the city lying as flat as they could
in rickshas, and with handkerchiefs spread over their faces. We were
almost unrecognisable when we got in, and it was a well-nigh hopeless
task to get rid of the dust from hair and clothes.

For once a Chinese cart seemed a desirable thing, and we were glad to
find one waiting to take us to a Chinese friend’s house, where we
were to spend the remainder of our time at Peking. The streets are
broad and fairly well policed, but their roughness is extraordinary,
and when you sit cross-legged in the place of honour at the back of a
springless cart you are tossed from side to side like a ball, and your
head bumped unmercifully, till you have learned how to avoid it. You
get much more exercise than if you walk; the only compensation is that
you know you are doing the correct thing. Our host, who is a successful
young doctor, explained that he was obliged to go in a cart to visit
high-class patients, instead of on his bicycle, though it took up a
great deal more time.

We were glad to have a Chinaman to take us shopping, for our mouths
watered to see the attractive things in the native shops. The minute
that a European enters, up go the prices to at least double, if not
treble; so we had an amusing but not very successful time in them.
Our kind host could not bear to see us being cheated, and it was with
the utmost difficulty that I persuaded him to get me a black spotted
leopard-skin coat lined with lovely blue silk, on which I had set
my heart, as the shopman refused to come down to what he considered
a reasonable price. He begged us to let him in future get what we
wanted and have the things brought to his house for inspection: the
main difficulty lay in the fact that we did not know what we wanted,
for the most part; but about one thing I had no doubt, and that was
specimens of the noted nail paintings. There was only one celebrated
artist, and he was about to retire to his native province of Szechwan,
but by great good luck we secured a book containing nine paintings
done with the finger-nail, and two white silk scrolls. The designs are
excellent, and it is difficult to see any difference from that of a
brush in execution. The book is bound in Chinese style, simply between
two wooden boards, with a plain band of gold running down one side for
about three-quarters of its length, but no title on it.

A comparison between Chinese and Japanese art shows plainly their close
connection, and if the Japanese excel in certain qualities, they have
not the virility which characterises the Chinese, from whom all their
art is derived. It was towards the close of the fourth century A.D.
that a systematic criticism of art and a history of painters was begun
in China. The canons of pictorial art were laid down, and it will help
us to understand and appreciate Chinese art better if we remember that
the first and most important of their six canons is “the Life movement
of the Spirit through the Rhythm of Things.” Though their art is mainly
decorative, it possesses marvellous vitality and poetic imagination. At
the Chinese Court there were fifteen artists in attendance, ready to
depict anything that the Dowager Empress might wish to have painted.

[Illustration: AN OFFICIAL]

[Illustration: A LADY OF QUALITY]

A distinguished lady, closely allied to the Empress, kindly gave
me a sitting one morning; but as she was at the time exempted from
attendance at Court on account of ill-health, she was unable to wear
full dress--namely, the large Manchu coiffure--which is so heavy
that the Empress decided to allow it to be replaced by large black
satin bows. It is difficult to fasten the framework securely to the
head, over which the hair is arranged, so the coiffure is usually
made with false hair, and it is funny to see withered old hags in the
streets wearing these, with a large flower stuck jauntily at the side.
I found my sitter a very difficult one to paint, as she was heavily
painted (in a different sense), and the square scarlet under-lip and
absence of line in the upper eyelid gave a wooden expression to the
whole face, which was unusually large, and surmounted by a perfect
flower-bed. It would have been easier to express the dignity of her
carriage had she been standing, but although she offered to do so, I
felt it was impossible to take advantage of her good-nature when I
knew she was ill. Her hands were slender and beautifully shaped, but
she wore no rings; her feet were very small and shod in artistically
embroidered Manchu shoes with white soles--nearly two inches thick (the
Manchus never bind their feet). Unfortunately, the handsome heliotrope
gown and short jacket were trimmed with European braid, and owing to
the cold weather they were wadded, which lends a clumsy appearance
to the whole figure. Her charming little black pug belongs to the
celebrated palace breed.

It was not till after we had enjoyed tea and cakes that I was allowed
to begin the portrait; and the prince came in to make our acquaintance,
so that a good deal of time was taken up, and I was only able to make
a hasty sketch, to be finished later on. Then the lady said we must
certainly be hungry and insisted on our stopping to dinner, saying she
herself was very hungry--how much more so must we be, who had worked
while she did nothing. My friend protested that she had done nothing
at all, being reduced to silence by her ignorance of the language,
to which came the charming retort, “You will be fatigued, then, by
your good intentions!” All our protests as to other engagements were
overruled, and we sat down, at the other end of the room from where we
had been sitting before, to a sumptuous repast, consisting of every
kind of meat and vegetable, served in small pieces in innumerable
little dishes. In the centre of the table there was a charming set of
nine dishes, which are generally used for sweetmeats, but which our
hostess had thought would be equally nice for meat--an innovation we
thoroughly appreciated, as they looked so much prettier than separate
ones. From these dishes we were continually helped to cold chicken,
duck, sausage, pigeons, eggs, ham, and other less recognisable
dainties. Round these were more dishes of hot vegetables, pickled meat
and vegetable, rissoles, fried meat balls, stewed meat, cabbage and
meat, &c., &c., from all of which our hostess continued to serve us
with her own chopsticks, eating but little herself, according to the
Chinese etiquette. We were given spoons and forks, as she shrewdly
suspected our inability to wield chopsticks. Little bowls of rice were
also handed round, and as soon as we stopped eating she did the same.
Next came bowls of soup, each containing two eggs, and this concluded
the solid part of the feast; as soon as we had retired to the other end
of the room tea was brought, with preserved crab-apples, apple jam, and
peanuts. Part of the dinner, we were told, was prepared by men and part
by women cooks.

Before we took leave the children came in to be introduced. All
the young people are learning English, and shook hands in English
style--namely, with _us_, instead of with _themselves_. Many polite
questions were asked as to our families, our clothes, and the price
of the Viennese gown I was wearing, and my amethyst pendant. Silk
is considered the only material for a handsome dress in China, and
precious stones are practically unknown, jade being the only one worn.

Finally we made our adieux, accompanied to the outermost courtyard by
our kind hostess; and the next day she sent me a fascinating assortment
of Chinese paints, each done up separately in the neatest little
parcel, containing either a bottle or a little box. We came away much
impressed by the indescribable charm of Chinese manners, and many a
time afterwards I felt how _gauche_ we were in comparison. We drove
away in our cart for politeness’ sake, but a short ride in it after
such a feast would have had disastrous consequences, so we quickly
transferred ourselves to rickshas as soon as we were out of sight of
the palace.

It would be wearisome to the reader to describe all the interesting
places we saw in Peking, but there is still one that I must
mention--the Hall of the Classics. It is the centre of the great
examination system of the past, and probably will never again have
its old importance. Here the final examination took place of all the
students, from every part of the vast Empire, who had succeeded in
passing all other examinations. The Emperor himself presided, and
received the homage of successful candidates, seated upon a handsome
carved throne. Round the walls of the great court are tablets on which
are inscribed the whole of the classics. The old examination system
has been abolished, and already at Peking the very building where the
provincial examinations were held has been destroyed.

Before leaving Peking our host introduced us to the friend whom he had
found to act as our interpreter during our long journey from north-east
to south-west of the Empire. Mr. Ku was a young man of official family,
who had been trained at St. John’s College, Shanghai, and spoke English
well. He was essentially a scholar, of gentle and amiable manners,
honourable and guileless. During our five months together we never
found him lacking in tact or discretion, and we were able without
hesitation to place our affairs entirely in his hands. Fortunate is the
traveller who likes his companions better at the end of such a journey
than at the beginning!

[Illustration: BOXER]

[Illustration: KACHIN WOMAN]

Mr. Ku’s father had a narrow escape for his life, like many other
Chinese officials, during the troubles of 1900. He was seized one
day by Boxers, who prepared to kill him: when he asked why they were
doing this they said it was because he was a Christian. He assured
them he was not, but they refused to believe it, and it was only after
repeated remonstrances that they said they would put it to the proof.
This was done by means of lighting a piece of paper: if it burnt away
entirely, the Boxers said that would show he was not a Christian, but
if it didn’t, then he should be put to death. Happily the paper was
dry and burnt up, but the Boxers, although they spared life in this
case, demanded a heavy sum of money and a quantity of rice. Although
the Boxers began by being patriotic fanatics, they soon turned into
mere plunderers. The sketch gives the costume of a Peking Boxer, with
upraised hand making a military sign; but they had no regular uniform,
and merely wore red as a distinctive mark.

We only spent six days at Peking, as we felt we must hurry on, much as
we should have liked to spend weeks there instead of days.




CHAPTER XII

The Péhan Railway: from Peking to Hankow


This line extends a distance of 700 English miles from Peking to
Hankow. The railway was constructed by a Belgian syndicate, but it is
really a combination of French, Belgian, and Russian interests, which
were successful in outbidding American proposals. The Belgians proved
themselves more successful diplomatists than the Americans, and struck
a bargain with the Chinese, in 1897, of such a nature that it had
to be completely altered afterwards. The arrangement certainly does
not bear a creditable aspect. Indeed, the whole history of railway
enterprise in China makes sorry reading. British protests were ignored,
and a working agreement was made, giving the Belgian syndicate full
rights over the line for forty years. In the prospectus which they
issued they professed to have obtained the right to carry the railway
through from Hankow to Canton, but events have conclusively proved
that, although they attempted to obtain this right, it was refused. An
American combination won the concession in 1898, but it was cancelled
in 1905--little progress having been made--and it is to be a Chinese
line from Hankow to Canton. An English engineer had already strongly
advocated the value of such a line, and the Chinese are made to realise
more clearly every day the advisability of keeping the railways as far
as possible in their own hands.

[Illustration: MR. KU]

One of the most striking drawbacks of the Péhan railway is that no
goods can safely be sent by it. Our luggage was fortunately so small
that we had it all in the carriage with us--two suit-cases, two
bed-bags, and a hold-all being all that we allowed ourselves for the
journey through the interior. We had sent our other luggage round from
Shanghai to Burma, so that we might travel as lightly as possible.
During the whole of our journey we never lost a single article, and
it was a disheartening consideration that it was only when we came in
contact with Europeans that we had any need for care.

Together with the right to build the Péhan line, the Belgian syndicate
obtained a mining concession of great value at Lincheng in the province
of Chili. So much with regard to the Chinese railways.

We started in the grey dawn to take the 7 A.M. train to Hankow, and
as the only weekly express started the wrong day for us, we decided
to go by the ordinary mail. According to continental custom, there is
a considerable difference in price between the two, and we paid the
same price for first-class ordinary tickets as we should have done
for second-class by the express. The carriages are not so good, but
we found them comfortable, and infinitely cleaner than on the German
line. In fact, a man came round periodically with a feather brush to
dust us out, and this was sadly needed across the dusty plains of
Chili and Honan, which it took us two days to traverse. The carriages
are broad, and we had one to ourselves, next door to a handy little
kitchen. Perhaps it was with this fact in view that mine host’s cook
brought us two live chickens, tied by a string, as provision for the
journey! But we had started in such excellent time that the doctor sent
him off from the station post-haste to get cooked ones instead, and he
returned triumphant with two well-spiced creatures packed in a basket,
covered with leaves. We were only dependent, therefore, on the kitchen
for hot water, and it was a great boon to have as much as we wanted
both for drinking and washing. Our servant Liu--who had been found for
us and partially trained by the doctor--was allowed to come along and
wash up for us and do any odd jobs we might want.

The train only runs during the day, but we got permission to stay
in it at night, and having bedding with us, we were able to be
quite comfortable. It was much less fatiguing than having to turn
out and go to an inn, especially as we started again at 6 A.M. The
vast plains that we passed through looked very deserted, as the
harvest is practically over: the persimmon trees were nearly bare of
fruit, but the Indian corn still made vivid patches of colour on the
threshing-floors, and occasionally we saw monkey-nuts being sifted
from the sandy soil, which is particularly adapted to their culture.

[Illustration: THE BRAKEMAN ON THE PÉHAN RAILWAY]

We found the stations on the Péhan railway more varied and amusing than
those in Shantung; we could really have supplied all our needs in the
way of food at them, as there were excellent bread, chickens, eggs,
various kinds of fruit, and many Chinese delicacies to be had; but
naturally we preferred carrying our own supplies.

On the second day we came to the most interesting point in the
journey--the crossing of the Hwang Ho (Yellow River). It is a
single-line bridge, nearly two miles long, and looks far too fragile
to withstand the swirl of the waters when the river is full. It is a
screw-pile erection, and was extremely difficult and costly to build,
owing to the shifting sands and depth of mud.

The choice of a spot for a bridge has been criticised somewhat severely
on account of changes in the course of the river, but its nine changes
during 2000 years make an engineer study the matter with very great
care, and one must hope that the right spot has been chosen. The bed
of the river is simply a quicksand, and it proved extremely difficult
to reach any solid foundation. The rock and stone at first used to
strengthen the foundations was simply swallowed by the quicksand, and
it was necessary to make a foundation of what can only be described
as matting, made by twisting together the branches of trees, on which
tons of stones were piled round the screw-piles, and these were again
protected from the down-flowing tide by triangular arrangements of
wooden piles. The screw-piles are placed in sets of four, six, eight,
and ten, and joined together by powerful stanchions and girders, and
they reach a depth of some forty-four feet. The train crawled across
the bridge in a most gingerly way, and one would certainly hesitate to
risk crossing it at flood-tide. As one looked down on the water (more
like chocolate cream than anything else) eddying round the supports,
there was an evil fascination about it. An Indian engineer explained to
us that the Chinese method of damming the river is exactly the opposite
to ours--namely, they dam it _below_ the bridge, and we _above_. It was
a relief to get safely across its interminable length: the time went
so slowly that one might almost forget the notice-board at one end,
saying, “Fleuve jaune, rive nord,” before reaching the one at the other
end, “Fleuve jaune, rive sud.” At this point in the journey we left the
Great North China Plain extending to the farther side of Peking, came
into more varied country, and approached the hills, which before we
had only seen at intervals looming in the distance. The railway goes
through a tunnel, the first to be made in China, and emerges into the
Yangtze valley.

[Illustration: GREAT WALL]

On the third day the scenery we passed through was beautiful, and we
came to quite a different vegetation. The Scotch firs on the steep
loess hillsides reminded us pleasantly of home, and even a view of the
Great Wall at one point did not altogether dispel the illusion.
Why the Great Wall extends down here it would be hard to say, for it
could scarcely be of much use in its shrunken dimensions to keep out
invaders. The Great Wall was erected along the northern frontier of
China for a distance of about 1500 miles, in the year 214 B.C. by Chin
Hwang Tu. The amount of material required to build it is said to be
seventy times as much as that required for building the largest of the
pyramids. The part of the wall we saw was a spur running down from
the Great Wall between the provinces of Shansi and Chili; there are
other similar spurs from the Great Wall. At the foot of the hill are
rice-fields.

As we came farther south the vegetation changed. Instead of cornfields
we saw rice-fields, mostly under water; and more and more the water
increased in volume, till we found ourselves skirting large lagoons,
with countless little boats on their surface, and large fishing-nets,
which brought up a shining harvest of little fish. Many huts are built
on land which must frequently be submerged, as is the case along the
Yangtze valley.

Sometimes we saw beds of bamboos, for which the climate is too cold
farther north. Water buffaloes replaced the other cattle, for the
obvious reason that they are much better suited to work in swampy
grounds.

At sunset we reached Hankow (so called because it is on the Han
river), and were kept waiting a long time at the first station, close
to the banks of the Yangtzekiang, so that it was dark by the time
we reached the town. We drew up alongside a crowd of people, dimly
illumined by the gay Chinese lanterns they were carrying, and found it
difficult to distinguish the friends who had come to meet us. Nearly
every one carries a lantern, or has a servant to do it, for the place
is miserably lighted. The station is in the middle of the foreign
concession, and you might easily imagine yourself in a poorly lighted
London suburb, as you pass big warehouses and shops and suburban
villas. It is the centre of the commercial life of the place, and there
is a large European population.

All along the river-bank the city stretches for miles, and across the
river is the town of Wuchang, to which ferries ply continually. If the
wind is against you it may take an hour or more to get across, and
you could easily imagine yourself on the sea. Indeed, it is nothing
uncommon to go across in calm weather to pay a call, and for the wind
to rise suddenly and prevent your coming back for a couple of days. At
Wuchang there are various missions with hospitals and schools. At one
of these we saw a slave girl who had been almost burnt to death with
incense sticks by an enraged mistress, and then bricked up in a wall to
die of starvation. She will probably never entirely recover the shock
to the system. Large boat-loads of girls are continually passing down
the river from the province of Szechwan, we were told, for sale at the
ports; and although there has recently been an edict prohibiting the
traffic, that edict is a dead letter. Many slave girls are not badly
treated, but in fits of passion a Chinese mistress becomes capable of
diabolical cruelty. One child was brought to the hospital at Taiyüanfu,
some years ago when I was there, almost dead. She had been beaten and
knocked about and bitten till she was one mass of bruises and sores,
and was almost blind and quite lame. She screamed at first if any one
came near her, and it was plain that kindness was a thing unknown.
Soon she learnt that she had come into a new world, and responded
beautifully to the new treatment. Her face lighted up with joy at any
small gift, a flower or a sweet, and the necessary suffering caused
by dressing her wounds was borne in heroic silence. Her one dread was
lest she should recover so as to have to return to her old mistress.
Several months of diplomatic negotiations passed before her mistress
was persuaded to make her over as a gift to the hospital, on account of
her incurable lameness and blindness, which rendered her practically
useless.

So much has been said about the cruelty of the Chinese as a race, that
I cannot forbear pointing out one or two things that have struck me.
The Chinaman never appears to be cruel from innate love of cruelty for
its own sake of sport, and I have never seen or heard in China of the
atrocities which make travelling in southern Italy and Spain a misery
to any one who loves animals. Cruelty for the love of money--such as
that witnessed on the Congo and elsewhere--is not to be found in China,
except in isolated cases, such as in the gaols. If it were not for the
humanising influences of Christianity, I believe that we should be a
more brutal race than the Chinese, for unhappily the sporting instinct,
which we so strongly possess, is closely allied to cruelty. A Chinaman
looking on at many a football match in Lancashire or Yorkshire might
reasonably have much to say on the subject of kicking, for instance, as
a proof of our brutality. Another point that is apt to be overlooked is
that the Chinese are extraordinarily insensitive to pain; witness every
operating theatre in the country, where anæsthetics are much less used
or required than for Europeans. There is no denying that the Chinese
can be unspeakably cruel when under the influence of passion, but not
more so than Europeans; and that Chinese punishments are barbarous
in the extreme; but there is little doubt they will soon be altered
and brought into line with Western ideas, if one may judge from other
changes now taking place.

There is a Bund at Hankow running along the river-side as at Shanghai,
but it is not nearly so fine a one. Large ships pass daily between the
two cities; for Hankow is a most flourishing place, the centre of the
tea trade, and in its warehouses is packed all the tea for the Russian
market which can be despatched to Russia without transhipment.[8]
Immediately to the east of Hankow, and only separated from it by the
Han river, is the large town of Han-Yang, and this and Wu Chang form
one big city with Hankow.

We had to wait a few days before we could get a steamer going to
Ichang, and though small, we found it remarkably comfortable, so that
we enjoyed our three days’ trip. The country at first was flat, but
there was always something to see--long, V-shaped flights of geese, or
solid blocks of ducks. Herons, too, and many other kinds of birds we
saw; and wild turkeys we _ate_, as well as pheasants.

The river was unusually high, but not too high, we ascertained, for us
to get up the rapids. In consequence of the height of the river the
tiny steam-launch had to be let down at one point, as well as continual
soundings to be made to test the depth of the river-bed. This is always
changing, especially during the fall of the river, and is one of the
main difficulties of river navigation in China, making it most tiresome
and dangerous.

Wet weather set in next day and lasted more or less for a week, so that
the crags overhanging the banks near Ichang looked grand and forbidding
as we steamed up to it.




CHAPTER XIII

On the Yangtze: Ichang to Wanhsien


We reached Ichang on Sunday afternoon, and were glad to be in time for
a service in the Presbyterian church, the last really homelike church
we attended till we reached Burma. In all other churches there were
things to remind us that we were in China, but here we were in Scotland
once more, and this is the only station of the Scotch Established
Church in China proper: they have a flourishing work, however, in
Manchuria.

Ichang has quite a colony of Europeans. They were anxious to have
a good road outside the town for the sake of exercise, and when we
visited the tennis club we saw the one they had made. The whole surface
of the ground for miles and miles is covered with mounds (= graves),
so closely packed together that it is impossible to help treading on
them if you leave the path. The Europeans knew there would be great
difficulty in obtaining permission to make the road they wanted, so
they subscribed the requisite funds among themselves and took French
leave to make it. Before the Chinese had recovered from their
surprise, or had decided what to do, the road was made. Then the
Chinese acted in a truly magnanimous way. Instead of simply seizing it,
as they had every right to do (according to my informant’s story), they
paid the Europeans all they had spent upon it, saying they must have
the road in their own hands.

[Illustration: CHINESE GRAVES]

From my sketch some idea may be formed of the vast multitudes of graves
outside Ichang: some have sticks planted in them with little paper
streamers. Wherever we travelled we saw the same sight--endless graves
speaking of the innumerable dead.

It took some time to make an agreement for a house-boat to take us from
Ichang to Wanhsien, as the boatmen prefer to go as far as Chungking,
where they can usually secure a fresh cargo for the return journey; but
eventually the matter was satisfactorily settled. A nice clean boat was
engaged, with three compartments and a good space for cooking at the
back, above which a little god sat in a shrine. We decided to inhabit
the two front rooms, and Mr. Ku and Liu the back one, and we hung up
curtains to supplement the flimsy partitions, as they consisted of a
few loose planks, with gaps of one or two inches wide between them, and
at quite a slight touch they fell down.

It was a great convenience that our interpreter and our servant (who
had also formerly been _his_ servant) shared a room and always had
their meals together. This is quite a usual arrangement in China, as
there never seems to be any desire for privacy amongst the Chinese,
and servants are on a much more intimate footing with their masters
than is the case with us.

The agreement for the boat was drawn up in writing, and the crew was to
consist of nineteen men: the sum to be paid for the whole trip was 95
taels (about £14). As Hosie mentions in his book that he had to pay £45
for his boat to Chungking (about twice the distance, though the latter
half is much the least arduous and dangerous), we were not dissatisfied
with our bargain, although we were told we were paying quite too much.

The captain received 75 taels at starting, ten taels when half-way,
and the remaining ten on arrival. Though the bargain was struck on
Tuesday, we did not succeed in starting till Saturday morning, and in
the mean time both we and the captain were busy with our preparations.
We got wadded Chinese clothes, for it was beginning to get cold, and
we thought (though in this we proved to be mistaken, for no curiosity
was exhibited about us at any place we visited in European clothes)
that they would save us from much inquisitive inspection in the western
provinces. Long fur-lined silk coats we had got in Peking (about £3.
10s.), tall black velvet felt-lined boots (7s. 6d.), wadded silk
jackets (7s. 6d.), black cloth (European) skirt, described on the
bill in Mr. Chang’s best English as “brewen fine cloth beetticoat”
(£1. 2s. 6d.). Our heating and cooking apparatus had to be made--two
impromptu charcoal stoves made out of packing-cases lined with bricks,
a little oven to stand on the top, three pans with lids (made out of
the ubiquitous kerosene tin), two tins, and a zinc kettle, all for the
modest sum of 6s. 6d. As our servant’s cooking capacity proved to be
very limited--he proudly announced he could cook both a chicken and a
pudding--we decided to trust rather to my experience, and we laid in a
supply of stores, which are easily obtainable at Ichang.

The next point was to secure a red-boat (= lifeboat), for which we
applied to the British Consul, and he again had to apply to the
Chinese General, who is always willing to provide one gratis to
foreign travellers. The Consul--like many of his class in China--at
once suggested every possible difficulty, and seemed to think that at
his request we should meekly turn round and go home again. He told
us that he had just refused to give the bishop a passport for some
ladies travelling into Szechwan, and we were thankful that we had got
ours--though not without difficulty and vexation--elsewhere. As we
were backed up by advice received at the British Embassy at Peking
with regard to our journey, the Consul could not refuse to apply for
the red-boat escort, though later in the day he had the satisfaction
of telling us that none was available. Happily, however, one came in
before we started, so that we had No. 48 assigned to us on Friday
evening. It was very wet all day, but I found an interesting subject to
paint in a family ancestral tablet. On the right-hand side is a drum
for worship, and on the altar in front of the tablet is a bronze vase
in which burning sticks of incense are placed. On certain days the
members of the family prostrate themselves before it, and offerings of
cakes and fruit are presented by them.

Ancestral worship dates from the earliest times, and has even to the
present time the strongest hold upon people of all classes. The Emperor
possesses seven shrines, representing his various ancestors; the nobles
are allowed five shrines, and ordinary people have only one. The
offerings are by no means costly or lavish, but at the same time they
must not be mean; and it is related of a certain high official, with
censure, that the sucking pig which he offered for his father was not
large enough to fill the dish! Closely allied with ancestral worship
is that greatest virtue of the Chinese, filial piety; and Confucius
lays stress in his teaching on the spirit in which its duties are to
be carried out, pointing out that it is best seen in endeavouring to
realise the aims of the forefathers.

After dinner we made our way through the rain down the slippery bank to
our boat, across a most shaky plank. The bare boards looked rather dull
quarters for the night, and the wind whistled dismally, so our kind
hosts offered to lend us deck-chairs and a good supply of newspapers
to keep out draughts--an offer we thankfully accepted. Soon we had
everything ship-shape, and began to accustom ourselves to the lullaby
provided by nineteen snorers, packed like herrings into the few yards
composing the forepart of the boat.

[Illustration: ANCESTRAL TABLET]

We made a pretence of starting the next morning between seven and
eight o’clock, heralded by a tremendous trampling overhead on our
little roof, which must have been remarkably tough not to have given
way. The mats used as an awning over the boatmen at night were stacked
on our roof during the day. We slowly made our way by the aid of a
sail for about half a mile up the river, alongside the town; then
the men stopped for breakfast, and we were told that the captain had
gone ashore to buy more bamboo towing-ropes. This took another hour
or two. Again we started, but after another half-mile we drew up
beside an island for a very long spell. _Festina lente_ was evidently
the watchword, and it took a great many exhortations through Mr. Ku,
as interpreter, before we got the men started again. Eventually we
succeeded in reaching the custom-house (ten miles up the river) by
dusk, and there tied up for the night.

From that time we always started soon after daylight, and there was no
lack of interest. The scenery became very grand--the banks were nearer
to each other, and lofty crags rose precipitously from the river-side,
often to a considerable height, 200 or 250 feet. Though the colour of
the water is ugly and muddy, the vegetation is most beautiful, and the
foliage of the azalea added greatly to the charm of the landscape.
There was so little wind that the sail was practically useless, and the
men shouted for the wind in vain. It is curious how much faith they
have in shouting, despite their frequent failure. They were obliged
to row, or go ashore and track. There is one long oar on each side
of the boat, and it is worked by five or six men, who twist it to
the accompaniment of a hoarse vocal noise--it can hardly be called a
chant--and it sometimes rises to a veritable howl! Not infrequently one
of the rowers stands on a plank on the outer side of the oar--namely,
above the river--fixed at right angles to the boat. When the current is
strong the men work in a sort of frenzy and stamp like elephants, their
voices rising to a deafening din, assisted by those of the rest of the
crew. Despite the cold they strip to the waist, and only put on their
thin blue cotton coats when they go on shore to track.

[Illustration: BLUE DAWN]

One of the men, clad in a long coat, utilised an unwonted lull in
his labours to wash his nether garment in the rice-tub which had
just been emptied by the hungry men! His teeth were chattering with
cold, and he shivered wofully in the raw air. The ten men who act as
trackers and tow the boat are as nimble as cats and scale the rocks
with marvellous rapidity, keeping up a rapid trot over the most
uncompromising boulders, while two men follow them to clear the rope
from obstructions. The ropes are made of bamboo, and look little
qualified to stand the heavy strain of pulling the laden junks up the
rapids. To these ropes the men are harnessed by short ropes, which
they detach at pleasure. The trackers are often a quarter of a mile
distant from the boat, for the river is very wide and winding in
places, and frequently extra men have to be hired, augmenting their
numbers up to one hundred or more for the worst rapids. Many a
time a tracker has to dash into the swirling waters to free the rope,
and his scanty clothing is flung off in the twinkling of an eye. Our
red-boat was quite useful in taking the trackers on and off the shore,
where the water was too shallow for us to go--and the red-boat men
were friendly creatures, continually hovering round us night and day,
ready for service. By means of little offerings of hot tea, &c.,
we soon got on the pleasantest terms, and often had little dumb-show
conversations. These boats are very light, and have long narrow blue
sails and blue-and-white striped awnings; the boat and military uniform
are scarlet, so that they are readily distinguishable from all other
craft on the river. Even their chopsticks are red: altogether they
look extremely smart, and the boatmen are skilful and experienced men.
Parcel-post boats have blue-and-white striped sails and a yellow sort
of box in the centre of the boat to distinguish them. The letters do
not go by water, but are carried by men overland.

There have been so many accidents on the river this season, owing to
its fulness, that we determined to go ashore whenever we came to a
rapid, and to take our luggage with us. We duly instructed the captain
and also the red-boat men on the subject, but, to our surprise, on
the third day we discovered that we had already come up one rapid,
and before we knew it we were into a second. The fact is that the
current is so strong, and the river altogether so tumultuous and
vicious-looking, that to the uninitiated the rapids are not always
different in appearance from the rest of the Yangtze, and most of the
way through the gorges seems full of rapids. Getting round the sharp
bends of the river is a difficult matter, and they frequently tie a
rope from the boat round a boulder, while the trackers hold on to
another fastened to the top of the mast, from which it can be lowered
at will by means of a slip rope. The trackers strain every nerve, and
frequently go on all-fours, and yet can’t budge an inch. Sometimes they
are obliged to let go, and then the junk slips back in the swirl of
water, to the great danger of any others that may be in the rear.

The fourth day after leaving Ichang we had a very narrow escape of
this sort. I had been admonishing the captain about his stupidity in
following close behind a heavy large junk, and told him we ought to
have been in front of it, by starting a little earlier in the morning.
He was surly, and complained that it would have been necessary to get
up so _very_, _very_ early; but he was soon brought to repentance by
something much more unpleasant than my words. We were waiting our turn
to get round a sharp corner, and were moored to the bank, so we had
no means of escape when the big junk suddenly swooped down upon us.
A horrible grinding, tearing, crashing sound ensued, accompanied by
violent yells from the men; but we gasped with relief to see our walls
still intact, though our windows were shivered and the shutters torn
off. The damage done was quite small, but it delayed us several
hours that day, and caused us to be at the end of a long string of
boats for getting up the big rapid next day.

[Illustration: YEH TAN RAPID]

The Yeh Tan rapid (nicknamed Mutton Point by the prosaic foreigner)
is one of the most dangerous, and we made great preparations in case
of accident, packing up our things carefully in oiled paper--a most
useful Chinese article, as it is a very cheap kind of waterproof. Our
men made quite other preparations, which they firmly believed in. A
quantity of special sacred paper was waved--burning--over the front of
the boat; incense sticks were fixed up and lighted; finally a cock was
killed, and its blood and feathers plentifully bespattered around. This
was extremely distracting to me, as I was well embarked on a sketch
when it took place under my very eyes. The subject of the sketch was
quite characteristic--a beautiful rosy russet hillside, with a temple
peeping out of the trees, and a long narrow line of village above the
high-water mark of the river. On the shingly river-bed were temporary
booths used as restaurants.

Finding ourselves tied to the bank for an indefinite time, we began to
cook our lunch; but no sooner was the pot boiling than our red-boat
men appeared saying they had got up the rapid (they were not obliged
to wait their turn like ordinary boats), and were come to escort us on
shore. We asked if our boat was allowed to take precedence of the big
junks, and were told that it was; and as our trackers had already gone
ashore, it lent colour to the fiction, and we started off cheerfully
enough. The boatmen shouldered our suit-cases, which we were afraid to
risk, as they contained not only clothes and sketches, but money in
the shape of lumps of silver called “tings,” that were to last us for
several weeks, and which weighed many pounds. It is really tiresome
to have to carry money in this form and have it cut up and weighed in
little bits, with which to buy the cash of the district, before you
can purchase anything. In the more Europeanised East, Mexican dollars
are used, also bank-notes; but from this time on we were obliged
to use only the rough silver lumps and copper cash. Sometimes the
reckoning was by taels and sometimes by dollars. The tael is an ounce
of silver--namely, one and one-third English ounces--but there is no
coin to represent the tael. The silver shoe is about fifty taels, but
the taels vary in value at different places--the Peking tael is not the
same, for instance, as the Hankow tael: altogether, the money system
is hopelessly complicated. It made us feel, however, that we had got
beyond the pale of civilisation, and we never attempted after this to
do any purchasing ourselves, but were fortunate enough to be able to
leave our money matters with perfect confidence in Mr. Ku’s hands. The
result was that we did our journey much more economically than other
similar travellers, and were saved all worry.

It may be of interest to the reader to see one of the latest Government
edicts on the subject of the currency, and to know that it has decided
in favour of a uniform tael, the value of which is fixed at the
astonishing figure of 1549 cash. According to the reports of the
governors of the eighteen provinces, there were eleven provinces in
favour of the tael as against eight in favour of the dollar currency.
As the tael has never existed in coin form, and dollars are largely
used, there is much to be said in favour of the latter; but the
Chinese stick tenaciously to their own peculiar belongings, and in all
financial transactions with foreign countries the tael has been the
term used in the past.

The following edict appeared in the _Peking Gazette_, October 5, 1908:

    “An Imperial Decree in response to a memorial of Prince Ching and
    other Ministers of the Government Council, and of Prince P’u-lun
    and other Members of the Senate, who, in obedience to our Commands,
    have deliberated upon the subject of a uniform national currency.

    “A standard currency is the fundamental principle of public
    finance, and various countries have adopted a gold coin as their
    unit of value, with the subsidiary currency of silver and copper
    tokens. Under well-framed regulations such currencies have
    been found convenient and profitable. But it requires years of
    preparation to be ready for such a measure, which can by no means
    be attained at one step. The finances of China are in confusion,
    and the standardising of the currency is an urgent necessity.
    If actual gold coin were to be taken as the standard unit, it
    would be difficult to raise the necessary amount; while if gold
    were merely taken nominally as the standard unit, grave dangers
    would be incurred. It is evident, therefore, that we should first
    standardise and render uniform the silver currency, and then
    carefully proceed to take measures for a further advance; with a
    view to assuring the adoption of a gold standard in the future.

    “The memorialists have pointed out that the use of the tael and its
    fractions has been so long established that it would be difficult
    to substitute any other denomination in its place. The Committee of
    Finance in a previous memorial also recommended the determination
    of the tael as the silver coin to be used.

    “We, therefore, command that a large silver coin shall be struck
    weighing one K’up’ing tael, and that large quantities of silver
    coins weighing .5 of a K’up’ing tael shall also be minted for
    general convenience in use. Also there shall be small pieces of one
    mace and of five candareens, of less pure silver, which will serve
    as subsidiary currency. The two silver coins aforesaid shall be
    .980 fine, while the two small silver pieces will be .880 fine.

    “This silver currency, except in so far as calculations under
    treaties and agreements with the Foreign Powers will require
    to be made as before, shall be uniformly used by all Yamens,
    great or small, in Peking or the provinces in all their Treasury
    transactions, and all allowances for differences of weight
    or touch, or meltage fees, &c. &c., shall henceforth be
    perpetually forbidden.

    “Let the Governors-General and Governors of Provinces examine the
    conditions in their jurisdictions, and devise means in conjunction
    with the Board of Finance for determining afresh, either by
    increasing or decreasing as the case may be, the allowances and
    rice money of territorial authorities and tax-collectors while on
    duty, together with the expenditure for travelling on the public
    service, and let the rates be published openly by proclamation, so
    that the speculations of clerks and Yamen runners may be abolished
    for ever.

    “As regards the diversity of silver currency in the various
    provinces, and differences of touch, which give dishonest traders
    and market-dealers the opportunity for demanding discounts and
    profits off each transaction, grievous injury is inflicted thereby
    on all classes, and the Board of Finance is now commanded to issue
    stringent regulations forbidding such practices in the future,
    with the view that in a given number of years the national silver
    currency may become completely uniform.

    “Until the new coinage has been minted in sufficient quantities,
    the dollar and subsidiary silver pieces in use in the provinces,
    as well as the sycee, may be used as before, for the time being,
    on the market; and Treasury payments may still be made in sycee
    for the present, but must year by year be diminished by the
    substitution of the new silver coinage. On these questions let the
    Board of Finance carefully consider the circumstances and take
    satisfactory steps for the execution of this measure.

    “Let this Decree be generally circulated in all parts.

               “Memorial of the Government Council (Hui I Cheng Wu Ch’u)
                   on the question of a Uniform National Currency.”

To return to our subject: we made our way along the shingly beach,
covered with large loose boulders, past the meat-market, where goats
stood ready to be converted into mutton “while you wait,” up to a broad
platform of masonry, about twenty feet high, from which the trackers
haul the boats up the rapid. They must have been certainly a quarter of
a mile distant, and it takes about half-an-hour for some 60 or 100 men
to get a heavy junk up the rapid--about 100 yards. We waited our turn
from 7.30 A.M. till 5.30 P.M., and there were only thirteen boats ahead
of us.

We found we had a short walk to the red-boat, but the men were so
nice, and had rigged up the awning for us, and were so anxious that we
should be comfortable and rest, that although we felt exasperated at
having left our boat and our meal so unnecessarily early, we could not
be angry with them. The red-boat was exquisitely clean, and the men
clever, daring, and trustworthy: the captain was very tall, and had his
head tied up because of a swelling, which made him look particularly
interesting.

We sent Liu to procure provisions, as our last fowl had just been put
in the pot, and he returned with three live ones (which appears to
be the Chinese equivalent to a pair), price 2s. 3d. The fowls took
French leave to dine on persimmons, which had been left within reach,
casting a furtive glance at intervals to where the boy was sitting
meditating on the bank. The day gradually wore away, and we were very
tired with the deafening noise of drums, guns, crackers, and shouting,
without which accompaniment the junks could not be towed up the rapid
in safety! The men on board yell and wave their arms as if in frantic
desperation to scare away the evil spirits. At last our turn came, and
our boat rode triumphantly up the rapid by means of two towing-ropes
in the space of ten minutes. Ten hours’ wait for a ten minutes’ job!
China certainly needs patience. Our men evidently thought they had done
enough for the day: they tied up to the bank, and were soon snugly
snoring for the night. They lie like rows of sausages, so tightly
packed that it hardly looks possible for one to turn in his sleep,
unless they did like seven sisters whom I know. When they were young
and the house was full, they slept in one capacious bed: when one got
tired and wanted to turn over, she said “turn,” and all the seven had
to turn together!

One of the men groaned heavily for some time, and then began to weep.
This was too much for the others, who put an effectual stop to it, so
that he groaned no more. In the morning I looked for the culprit, but
no one looked particularly ill, as many are opium-smokers and always
look a horrible dead colour.

The scenery grows grander and grander as you go up the gorges, and
the vicious-looking tide grows more and more threatening. Passing
wrecks from day to day is by no means reassuring, but when one sees
the slender rope on which the weight of a heavily laden junk depends,
the marvel seems that any escape being wrecked. To the traveller who
enjoys a spice of danger and loves glorious scenery no trip could be
more attractive than a journey up the Yangtze for a month or six weeks,
and it is quite easy to go almost the length of the empire by it. The
return journey is performed in a very short time, and is certainly
not lacking in excitement; for the boats seem to fly past us, and
all hands on board are needed to keep the junk at all head foremost;
while steering is a work demanding the utmost coolness, strength, and
intrepidity, for the river is full of hidden rocks. The change in the
height of the water adds immensely to the danger and difficulty of
navigation. For the journey downstream the masts are taken down, and on
a large junk fifteen or more men are kept rowing as if for dear life;
and even then the junk often threatens to be carried down sideways.

[Illustration: VILLAGE AND JUNK]

When there is a strong wind blowing it is wonderful to see how the
boats go up-stream, despite the current, while the men sit down with
beaming faces for a few minutes’ rest, or seize the opportunity to do
a little washing. One merry fellow--the wag of the party--explained in
pantomime that he wanted to see the soap with which we wash our hands,
and was delighted when we gave him a little bit with which to wash
a piece of cotton that he wraps round his head. They use very hot
water but no soap for washing, and it is astonishing to see how clean
they succeed in making their things. The tracker’s next bit of work
was philanthropic to a degree! He carefully washed out his mouth, then
filled it again with water and applied it to a gathering on the sole of
the foot of another man, and began to draw out the pus. I put a stop to
it, however, and attended to the foot in a more Western manner. This
was the beginning of my looking after the various sores of our party,
and from this time on I rarely lacked patients. It soon became rather
ludicrous, for any one who got a scratched finger seemed to think
it required my attention, and I much regretted not having supplied
myself with a dresser’s case and a few simple requisites. Directly
the man had had his foot attended to, he had to go on shore to track,
with nothing but a straw sandal to protect the foot from stones and
dirt. The endurance of the men is extraordinary, but happily they are
insensitive to pain. A few days later a man came to me with a dreadful
foot, swelled to almost double its proper size, and it was with great
difficulty that I got the captain to allow him to stay on the boat
instead of tracking (for _one_ day), as he would have forfeited his
wages for the whole trip if he were unable to fulfil his duty on a
single occasion.

At intervals we passed small hamlets, and boats came alongside with
various eatables, or charcoal, for sale. Half a pig was eyed most
longingly by the men, and eventually they secured the head for a
ridiculously small number of cash--exactly how many farthings they
paid I could not see. Five pomeloes were to be had for one farthing
apiece, and the cook was glad to get a fresh supply of charcoal. He
spends the livelong day in his well--I do not know how else to describe
it--with only his head and shoulders above the level of the deck. Close
at hand is the drum on which it is his duty to beat instructions to
the trackers when they are ashore. He is a most attractive subject for
sketching, but is never still a moment except when he takes a nap,
and then his head also disappears into the well, and he curls up, so
that only his toes are visible. In my little sketch of him enjoying
the fruits of his labour his long nails look like talons, and this is
invariably the case when the nails are allowed to grow long: they are
singularly repulsive, and the long silver nail-sheaths used by the
gentry to conceal them are to be commended.

The days on the river slipped by very quickly, as there is always
something fresh to watch, and if not rapids to go up every day, at all
events there are difficult bits of navigation, and a certain anxiety
attends the rounding of corners, when the current twists round with
a threatening snarl. The picturesque villages make one long to stop
and sketch, but one has to be content instead to try and jot down
notes while passing alongside them. The accompanying sketch shows a
typical one: the red flag was in honour of a royal birthday. A similar
village is Kweichow (Hupeh), quite near the big town of Kweichow
Fu (Szechwan). It lies along the high bank, and the lofty city wall
extends in a sort of wide semi-circle up the bank above it, enclosing
quite a large space of cultivated ground on the upper side of the town.
The gates are closed at night, and no one can go in or out after the
keys have been carried to the magistrate’s yamen.

[Illustration: THE LOOK-OUT ON THE YANGTZE]

On the ninth day after leaving Ichang we came to a village which in
the distance we took to be on fire, owing to the dense clouds of
smoke rising from it. It proved, however, to be one of the famous
salt-springs, and had only emerged from the river-bed about a week
earlier, owing to the fall of the water. The people had at once set
to work erecting huts alongside it, and preparing the salt for use;
and they live there till the spring, when the rise of the river drives
them up the bank again. These salt-springs are one of the most valuable
products of the province, but the principal ones are nearer the centre
of Szechwan, and they are all a Government monopoly. Dr. Macgowan
states--as an illustration of the extraordinary patient perseverance
of the Chinaman--that it takes forty years in some cases to bore a
salt-well.

Close to this village is the picturesque city of Kweichow Fu, extending
some distance along the river-bank, with temples and palaces, and a
Union Jack flying over a mission-house, which rises high above the city
wall. The steep slope below it, from which the river had so recently
subsided, was already ploughed ready for a crop of corn. The Chinese
seem always on the watch to use every inch of ground available for
cultivation: they never seem to lose an opportunity, or to grudge
any amount of trouble. We climbed up the bank and a flight of steps,
leading through a lofty gateway into the town. The streets were narrow
and dirty, and thronged with people; but we turned aside to the
attractive Union Jack, where we met with a warm welcome, even before
we announced that we were bringing up belated stores from down the
river. We set out almost immediately to visit an interesting palace,
belonging to an Earl who had become famous during the Taiping war--a
case of “la carrière ouverte aux talents.” The façade and walls of the
palace were curiously decorated with mosaic, formed from broken bits of
pottery. There are shops for the purchase and sale of broken china and
earthenware for this express purpose.

On entering the courtyard we saw handsome square gilt tablets--the gift
of the Emperor to the late Earl--which were set up corner-wise over the
entrance to an inner courtyard. At the farther end of this second court
was a sort of reception-room, entirely open in front, containing chairs
and tables and other beautiful furniture from Canton, a series of
family portraits, and an ancestral tablet, with incense sticks burning
in front of it. On either side of this room were doors leading into the
living-rooms of the family. We wandered through side courts into the
spacious garden, laid out in true Chinese style, with little stucco
fountains and pools and streams, and many summer-houses, all furnished
with couches for the guests attending opium-smoking parties. There were
many kinds of shrubs and trees, some brought from long distances; also
pomelo and orange trees laden with fruit. A beautiful oblong tank was
full of lotos plants, and had a tiny boat on it; but over everything
brooded the sadness of decay and the memory of a departed glory.

As we stood talking to the brilliantly dressed daughters of the house,
a young cousin came in, who spoke excellent English, having been
trained at St. John’s College, Shanghai, and he proved to be a friend
of Mr. Ku’s. He offered to take us round to his father’s palace, which
was close by. It is built on exactly the same plan, and was in every
way similar to the other; but we noticed one curious object in the
reception-room--a large rough stone behind a screen under the ancestral
tablet. This, he told us, was a stone used for divination in time of
war, and above it was a most curious diagram hanging on the wall,
representing men riding on tigers (= soldiers). There was also a scroll
hanging on the opposite wall, given to the family by the Emperor after
the death of the young man’s father, recording the eminent deeds which
he had performed. Among the curios which he showed us were some wooden
ornaments formed out of little shrubs, which had been trained to grow
into peculiar shapes, such as a lion, an old man, &c.; these are
particularly admired by the Chinese. Some parts of the decorations
were quite charming in colour and in design, as for instance the
double doors, decorated with golden bats on a dark-green background,
and the gargoyles, formed like fishes, carved in stone. Altogether
it was a fascinating place and a worthy setting to the courtly
gentleman, who entertained us hospitably and took us round with his
son. Unfortunately, his English was almost as limited as our Chinese. I
should have very much liked to do his portrait, but dusk was coming on
and we were leaving early next morning.

Two rather dreary days succeeded, as there was a west wind blowing,
which took all the colour out of the landscape, just as an east wind
does at home, and at the same time it added colour to one’s temper.
There is really much sense in the old French law, which prescribed
special leniency of judgment in the case of murder and suicide
committed when the mistral was blowing. Sketching was out of the
question, and the poor trackers had a hard time--no rest all day long,
for the wind was blowing dead in our teeth. We laboriously won our way
up some small rapids, but nothing important was gained and we travelled
very slowly.

The last rapid before Wanhsien is the worst, and as usual we got out,
despite the reassuring news that, owing to the considerable fall in
the level of the water, we should have an easy ascent. Our luggage
was hastily transferred to the red-boat--as we imagined, to be taken
ashore as usual--and we then landed, to allow our boat to start at
once, for there were no other boats waiting ahead of us. The red-boat
men, however, got some of our men to help them, and started first. We
stood on a rock watching her come bravely through the flood, and were
in the very act of photographing her, when she seemed to stagger, the
men gave a great shout, dropped the towing-rope, the water dashed over
her, and she was whirled down the stream like an utterly helpless log.
We were horrified to see her carried down and out of sight round a
bend, and the thought of our luggage added not a little, I must admit,
to our dismay. It was some time before the two men on board succeeded
in getting her to the bank, for the large steering-oar in front had
snapped, which was the cause of the disaster. Hence the shout to the
men to loose the towing-rope, or she would have gone on the rocks.
About an hour later the men came back to us, carrying our luggage,
which was none the worse for the wetting; but they told us it would be
impossible for them to accompany us any farther, as it would take some
time to repair the damage. We regretfully took leave of them, as the
men had quite endeared themselves to us by the kindness and courtesy
with which they were always on the alert to render us small services.
Only the night previous our men were noisy and quarrelsome, and I was
obliged to remonstrate sharply. At once the red-boat captain came to
my assistance, and restored peace instantaneously. I wrote a note of
thanks to the general at Ichang for the captain to give him, with our
visiting-cards, when he reported himself on his arrival. I also gave
visiting-cards to the captain for himself, as nothing seems to please a
Chinaman more than this small courtesy, together with a lump of silver
to be divided with his crew, and he received them with a beaming smile
and a military salute.

After the accident we strolled along the bank for some distance,
waiting for our junk to come up, and were much amused by inspecting
a river-bank village. The whole of it is built of the most flimsy
materials, and put together so lightly that it can be taken down and
moved to another spot at the shortest possible notice, according to the
height of the river. Even the god’s shrine is thoroughly perambulatory,
and is dedicated to the god of the earth. Many of the shanties are
lofty erections, but the walls and roofs consist entirely of mats hung
on to poles, which are merely tied together and stuck into the ground.
There was quite a good village street, containing a barber’s shop, a
butcher’s, a draper’s (where most attractive wadded quilts made quite a
goodly show), a chemist’s, greengrocer’s, &c.

There were several delightful restaurants, with pretty bowls and natty
cooking arrangements, which made us long to purchase and experiment
with them instead of using our primitive stove, where my bread refused
to rise, though I never failed with it at home. So far, it can only be
considered successful for making poultices, but we eat a little of
it daily, as there is no sort of bread which we should find palatable
in this part of the empire. The counters of the restaurants had many
tempting dainties displayed upon them, especially tiny saucers full of
relishes; among them we saw several Escoffier sauce bottles, but no
doubt the original contents had disappeared long ago!

[Illustration: RIVER-SIDE SHRINE]

[Illustration: THE CHEF ON THE YANGTZE]

The women of the place seemed nice and friendly and clean, and were
dressed in the gayest colours of the rainbow; green, scarlet, blue, and
black was quite an ordinary combination on one person. They wear tight
wadded trousers to just below the knee, and from there to the ankle
the leg is neatly bound. Often the legs are very thin, and look like
sticks, while the out-turned tiny feet and stiff knees all combine to
give the appearance of goats’ legs. While I was sketching the little
shrine one came and stood beside it, with a very evident desire to
be included in the sketch. I at once took advantage of this unusual
occurrence--they generally flee directly they see I am doing them--but
as the spectators laughed at her, she kept folding her arms across her
face. She had a large basket on her back, and many women carry their
babies in this way.

As one gets farther west the climate changes--growing milder--and the
vegetation is different. Beautiful groups of bamboos are frequently
seen, and crops of sugar-cane in patches of vivid green suggest the
month of May rather than December. You reach the native home of
oranges, and they seem to have a better flavour than anywhere else.

Mr. Ku came to me with a long face one day, to say that he had been
told that the natives of Szechwan were barbarians, “and do you not
think that Liu and I had better wear suits of uniform?” We had no
hesitation as to the answer--a decided veto, having already discussed
the question of carrying firearms, many of our friends having strongly
urged us to do it. I am more than ever convinced that it is apt to
lead to trouble, rather than avert it, and that it is safer to have
none, especially when you have not been thoroughly trained in the use
of them. My friend suggested that if you shot one Chinaman there would
be ten to kill you, and a smile would be at least as efficacious as a
revolver.

The last part of our river journey was rather disturbing, owing to
our twice dashing upon the rocks; but happily no serious damage was
done, and we had an excellent opportunity of seeing how these people
set about repairs. The water was coming in rather fast under the floor
of our cabin, so the carpenter took up the boards, baled out the
superfluous water, and stuffed the hole with cotton wadding, which he
extracted from his winter coat. This he adjusted neatly in the hole by
means of his chopstick, and finally put a plaster over it, composed of
the sole of an old shoe, which he tore up for the purpose, and nailed
it over the spot. A good deal of baling had to be done, and no sooner
was order restored in the cabin than we had a second collision, and
the flooring had to be taken up again to see if there was any fresh
mischief. Happily there was none.

Two sets of our friends have each been wrecked three times this
season on their way up the river, and on one occasion the boat broke
completely in half. Every one hastened to save what they could, except
a Chinaman, who was observed busily washing his clothes with the soap
that was oozing out of one of the cases of stores! No goods are worth
insuring on the Yangtze, as the insurance rates are so high, and it
is so difficult--often impossible--to prove what has been lost. In
the case when the boat was a total wreck, our friends were obliged to
encamp for a week on the river-bank in a hut which they constructed
out of their stores and luggage, with the sail of the boat spread over
the top by way of roof--a somewhat ineffectual one when the rain came
pouring down.

The river-banks are studded with temples, pagodas, and shrines, and
the people in this part of the country are far more assiduous in their
worship than anywhere else: we continually noticed them offering
incense or paper money to the gods. The temples are less interesting
than in the north, and ugly in colour, mostly a cold grey ornamented
with black and white, and they are also less artistic architecturally.

On the fourteenth day we reached Wanhsien, whence we had decided to
travel overland, though we were sorry to miss seeing the celebrated
salt-wells, which we should have passed if we had taken the other
more frequented route to Chengtu. We regretfully said good-bye to our
boatmen, and made the eighteen men thoroughly happy and content with a
gratuity of 7s. to be divided amongst them. We notice that the Chinese
always seem more pleased and satisfied when they get the usual tip than
when they get more. Wanhsien looked doubly attractive to us from the
fact that we saw a British gunboat lying on the farther side of the
river, but in itself the town is eminently picturesque, though dirty.
A camel-back bridge, spanning a stream just before it entered the
Yangtze, was perhaps the prettiest bit of all. Below it were endless
yards of cotton hanging out to dry, after being dyed. This was a sight
with which we soon became familiar, passing through many a village
where the main street was draped in this way.

[Illustration: CAMEL-BACK BRIDGE]




CHAPTER XIV

Szechwan High-roads


Some friends who preceded us up the Yangtze had arranged for
sedan-chairs to be made in readiness for our arrival, so we were able
to start on Monday morning at 7.45 on our journey to Chengtu, the
capital of the province of Szechwan. We made quite an imposing array.
The party was arranged as follows: first, two soldiers (our military
escort); then my chair carried by four men; my friend’s ditto; Mr.
Ku’s chair carried by two men, as it was a much lighter one than ours;
then Liu’s, which was a similar one (servants are always supposed to
walk, but as Liu was from Peking, and totally unaccustomed to walking,
we thought it best to let him ride); then came four coolies carrying
luggage (each man reckons to carry 107 lbs.); and a head coolie, who
is responsible for all the others, brought up the rear. The total cost
of the seventeen coolies for fourteen days was 90,100 cash (£9), and
the soldiers each received 2½d. per day wine money. The soldiers were
most attentive, and would hardly leave our side except to go ahead
and engage a room in the inn and have it made ready for us--namely,
swept out and clean mats put on the bedsteads. They kept an eye on the
luggage, though that is really unnecessary when there is a head man,
as it is his duty, and he is responsible for everything. It is only
when you have as many as fifteen coolies that a head man is considered
requisite, but it is a great advantage in any case to have one.

The military escort is practically compulsory in this part of the
country, for things are not very settled, though foreigners are much
better treated than they were a few years ago. Our soldiers were most
assiduous in their attentions, rushing to fetch hot water the moment
we arrived at an inn, and eager to wash up our plates after meals,
although we had a servant whose main duty it was to do this.

We had been told that Szechwan was flat, so we had a pleasant surprise
in finding that our route lay almost the whole way through hilly, not
to say mountainous country, and that the mountains were beautifully
wooded. On the second day we reached Liang Shan, a pretty little
town in a valley surrounded by steep hills; and after we left it the
scenery was particularly beautiful. We passed through a thick forest
of bamboos, whose pale, graceful, feathery foliage contrasted finely
with the tall, dark pine-trees. The way led straight up a precipitous
mountain by thousands of well-made stone steps. It seemed as if we
should never reach the top, and the coolies must have thoroughly
appreciated the fact that we were British travellers, and not Chinese;
for the Chinese sometimes walk down-hill when it is very steep, but
rarely indeed uphill. When we asked Mr. Ku if he were accustomed
to walking, he said, “Oh yes, I can walk two and a half miles,” so
evidently that is considered a long distance. In reality he proved to
be a first-rate walker, and was soon able to do several hours a day
without fatigue. The banks were full of all sorts of lovely ferns and
mosses, reminding us of the most beautiful ferneries (under glass) at
home; but here was of course the charm of nature instead of art. There
was evidently a great variety of flowers in the spring-time; masses of
orchids, and anemones, violets, and other plants we recognised, but
there were far more whose species were unknown to us.

When we reached the summit at last there was a wonderful panoramic
view of hill and plain as far as the eye could reach; miles upon miles
of shimmering rice-fields, with trees and farmsteads reflected in
them. A ceaseless stream of coolies passed us, carrying various kinds
of loads suspended from each end of long sticks, which they carried
across their shoulders. The loads were mainly baskets, paper, coal,
hand-warmers, and pottery in this district. The hand-warmers are very
neat; they are made of bamboo baskets containing a little earthenware
bowl for charcoal. The people sometimes sit on them, or carry them
in their hands, or even hang them under their coats, either before
or behind--which at first aroused our pity, for we took them to be
suffering from some terrible growth!

The Szechwan inns are not at all to our taste, nor do they compare
favourably with those of Shantung, being mostly in bad repair and with
paper hanging in shreds from the window-frames. There are large holes
in the floors--mainly used for emptying slops through, on to the pigs
living below--and decidedly perilous to the unwary traveller. The month
of December, however, is the best time for visiting these inns, as the
rats are then the only active foes; but they are painfully bold. I
turned a sudden gleam of electric light from my private lantern on one
of the rats in the middle of the night and startled him a good deal,
but the scare wore off all too soon. Hosie has translated a Chinese
verse which he met with in a Szechwan inn, and added a second one of
his own. He says that the Chinaman’s own description errs on the side
of leniency, and I think he is quite correct.

    “Within this room you’ll find the rats
    At least a goodly score;
    Three catties each they’re bound to weigh,
    Or e’en a little more.
    At night you’ll find a myriad bugs
    That stink and crawl and bite;
    If doubtful of the truth of this,
    Get up and strike a light.

    Within, without, vile odours dense
    Assail the unwary nose;
    Behind the grunter squeaks and squeals
    And baffles all repose.
    Add clouds of tiny, buzzing things,
    Mosquitoes--if you please,
    And if the sum is not enough,
    Why, bless me! there are fleas.”

After passing through most beautiful scenery for five days, we came
to a comparatively dull part of the country. Still, there were
plenty of interesting things to look at, and continually something
fresh which we had never seen before. The women wear very prettily
embroidered clothes (worked in a sort of cross-stitch), though often
appallingly dirty; and the clothes of the little children are lavishly
decorated with delightful designs of butterflies and animals, and
monsters, besides having worked pockets. I actually saw a toddler with
a pocket-handkerchief, but I am convinced he did not know the proper
use of it. If only there were not such a terrible dearth of these
everywhere! I presented some to Liu as a New Year’s gift, but the
result was not altogether satisfactory, as the gift did not include
lessons in the use of them.

It was only at the close of five days’ journey from Wanhsien that we
met the first beasts of burden (other than human ones). They were all
cattle, and there were quite large numbers of them, neatly shod with
straw sandals like those which the men wear. The crops were much more
advanced here, and we even saw a field of beans in full flower. There
is a good deal of corn, some peas and sugar-cane, but most of the land
is devoted to the growing of rice, and is under water at the present
season of the year. These fields are not large, and on each narrow
little bank enclosing them there is a fringe of beans planted. The
mandarin oranges grow extremely well, and are of a most lovely colour.
The trees are often so heavily laden that they look as if they would
break under the strain. Every wayside stall has quantities of oranges
for sale at a merely nominal price. One cannot but suppose they are
indigenous, and they certainly require little or no cultivation. The
houses in this part look very pretty with their lath and plaster walls
and overhanging eaves, but they are bare and dreary inside, as they
rarely have any windows; what little light penetrates comes from the
door and from holes in the roof. The high-road has a most curious way
of running straight through the houses (mostly restaurants), as seen
in the accompanying sketch, in which also it may be noticed that the
smoke issues from cracks in the walls. Chimneys are conspicuous by
their absence throughout the empire. I think this may be the reason why
photographs of Chinese towns look so unreal to us. Sometimes you think
as you pass through a doorway that you are entering an inn, whereas it
proves to be a village street, completely covered in by mats, stretched
on rods from roof to roof, and making the streets quite dark in broad
daylight.

The people seem friendly and good-tempered, and we passed one day
through a district where nearly all the women had unbound feet; but
this is the only one I have ever come across in north, south, east,
or west. Even the women working in the fields have bound feet, and it
is astonishing how fast they are able to get about and what an amount
of work they do. To be sure, they often carry little stools to sit on
while they are weeding or planting in the fields. Sometimes they have a
baby tied on their backs, but not infrequently this duty is relegated
to the children, and you may see a toddler of not more than four or
five years old carrying another nearly as large as himself, and trying
to soothe its cries by swaying to and fro.

[Illustration: SZECHWAN HIGHWAY]

We found it most important to keep to the regular daily stages while
travelling in the interior, but sometimes this is impossible, and then
the most villainous inns have to be faced. We were delayed by rain,
which made the roads extremely slippery and difficult. My men fell no
fewer than three times one day, and on one occasion they flung the
chair heavily on its side, smashing the windows; happily, I escaped
with only scratches. The glass windows should have been replaced at
their expense, but, fortunately for their purses, I felt that it was
safer to be without windows after such an experience.

On the slippery days we usually began by walking, and as we skirted the
hillsides, gradually climbing upwards, for the greater part of the way
the sounds of labour rising from the valley reached us clearly. Often
a heavy hoar-frost lay on everything, and the sun had been up for some
hours before it had power to dispel it. Nevertheless, fellow-travellers
found it strong enough to warrant the putting up of European umbrellas.
Certain foreign articles are increasingly used by the Chinese, and the
umbrella is a special favourite. We, on the other hand--delighted with
novelty and picturesqueness--had taken to Chinese umbrellas, which were
certainly much prettier, though rather heavy. The enamelled basin is
especially attractive to the Chinese, and is perhaps the most used
of all foreign articles. A pair of English boots may frequently be
seen fastened on to the luggage--I think they are too precious to be
used on the high-road and are reserved for the cities--and we have met
soldiers wearing European gloves as a curious addition to their very
unofficial-looking dress.

Yesterday our men found it so warm that they entirely uncovered their
right arms and shoulders, like the images of the Buddha. When the
people want to take their coats off, they take off three, four, or five
together, like a plaster, and put them on in the same way.

In this district the irrigation is done by means of large wheels worked
like a treadmill by two or three men at a time, and there are great
numbers of these wheels to be seen; but, as is so commonly the case,
the custom is purely local, and we only saw them for a day or two. It
seems to me as if it were specially characteristic of China to have
customs and appliances confined to the most limited areas, outside
which they are not to be seen. This adds very much to the interest of
slow travelling, as it keeps you constantly on the watch, and you are
rewarded by always seeing something fresh. The trying thing about it
is that if you do not buy the thing you want directly you see it, most
likely you will never have another chance.

It is amusing to watch the harvesting of the peanuts which is now
going on. Owing to the clayey nature of the soil, it is impossible to
sieve them as in Shantung, so whole families establish themselves in a
field, attended by their poultry and pigs, which are picketed out over
the surface of the ground. This has been already dug up and cleared by
the gatherers, but the family gleans what has been overlooked, and the
poultry and pigs again glean what they may have left. Little Chinese
children sit in baskets, but at a very tender age they begin to share
the toils of their elders. It is astonishing to see the loads of salt,
coal, or firewood which some of these tiny creatures manage to carry
with a manly energy. There must be a good deal of country life in this
district, for there are numbers of nice-looking farms situated on the
hilltops (as in the sketch of “Sunlight and Mist”), surrounded by
haystacks and vegetable gardens and clumps of the useful bamboo. The
bamboo seems to be used for every possible purpose, and many of the
implements made from it are as ingenious as they are simple. Take, for
instance, the rake; one end of the bamboo rod is split, the ends bent,
and a tiny bit of plaiting spreads the prongs out fan shape. A greater
variety of baskets, too, is made from bamboos than I have ever seen
elsewhere, and they are used for a much larger number of purposes than
at home.

As we plodded along the rice-fields one morning, after about an hour’s
walk we came to a wayside booth, where our men stopped for their first
snack of food, and some particularly fresh-looking eggs tempted us
to join their meal. The salesman proceeded to poach them, and would
have added sugar if we had not stopped him. Declining chopsticks, I
was provided with a nice little pottery spoon, and my friend took
possession of a saucer about the size of a penny (commonly used for
sauce) for the same purpose. Long strings of mules passed us, carrying
taxes in the shape of small basket-loads of bullion, accompanied
by a military escort. The leading mules were gaily decorated with
flags, showing that they were on government duty. The road was bad
and slippery, and our men soon decided to shorten the day’s journey
by one-third, which we declined to allow, having already spared their
strength by walking for several hours; we agreed, however, to shorten
the stage to a certain extent. The natural result was that we found a
horrible inn with only two tiny rooms at our disposal, an inner one
being already occupied by several people. We agreed to remain there
only on one condition--that these people should be put elsewhere; and
we found the three cells were more than filled by ourselves and our
staff. There were no windows, but there was plenty of ventilation.
The house was like a large barn, the end of which was divided off by
a thin partition, in the centre of which was a round door. This part
was again subdivided into three cubicles. The outer part of the barn
was like a big restaurant, and after a while the many inhabitants
rolled themselves up like sausages in the wadded quilts provided by the
inn, and bestowed themselves as comfortably as might be on tables or
benches, and comparative silence reigned for a few hours. Happily, the
rain stopped, for there was quite enough open space in the roof above
my head and in the walls for us to study astronomy had it been a clear
night. We found it unnecessary to have our pan of charcoal taken out at
nights, for there was always a lovely breeze to carry away any fumes
there might be.

In this district the beds are made of straw, covered with a bamboo
matting, and are not uncomfortable; but we always felt happier when we
got a plain wooden bedstead like a large, low table.

We passed a night at an interesting large town called Shun King Fu, and
were greatly charmed with the lovely silks we saw being made there,
and the silver work. Everywhere the people were busy with the various
processes of silk-making. Hand-looms, of course, are used, and we saw
the most exquisite golden shades of silk in all stages of manufacture.
It is, however, never sold in its natural golden colour, or white (as
that is the Chinese mourning), unless some European succeeds in getting
hold of a piece in its unfinished state. Some of the natural dyes are
wonderfully brilliant, but unfortunately none of them seemed to be
fast colours. The red and yellow vegetable dyes and indigo are grown
in the province of Szechwan, but, sad to say, aniline dyes have been
introduced, and are becoming more and more common.

The missionaries who were entertaining us kindly sent out to a silk
merchant to bring pieces for us to select from, as it is not very usual
for ladies to go out shopping in this city. When we had chosen what we
wanted, the silk had to be weighed, instead of measured, to ascertain
what the price was. The merchant, who brought lovely embroidery silks
for sale, had neat little scales in a case with which to weigh the
skeins. A long discussion as to the price ensued, as it had gone up
since our hosts bought similar silks a month before, and no valid
reason could be produced for the change. Of course the system of
bargaining is universal, and we were thankful to have some one to tell
us what the price ought to have been and to do the bargaining for us.
Next the silversmith was summoned, and he brought a trayful of various
silver ornaments, ready to be inlaid with kingfishers’ feathers. This
is an art peculiar to China; in fact, no one but a Chinaman would
have the patience requisite for doing it. The effect is that of the
most brilliant, iridescent, blue-green enamel, and usually beads or
red-coloured glass or coral are introduced instead of jewels. It is
particularly effective when combined with jade. This jewelry was also
sold by weight, and we had to leave our purchases to be “feathered”
and sent after us, as everything of that sort is only made to order.
Brides frequently wear a sort of crown made of silver and kingfishers’
feathers, which looks extremely effective. There are some fine examples
of this work in the Chinese Section of the South Kensington Museum.

We were told that we must make an early start next day, as it was a
very long stage--between thirty and thirty-five miles--so we were up
betimes, and ready at six o’clock. Luck was decidedly against us.
First one of the coolies said he was ill and could not go, so another
had to be got, which delayed us nearly an hour. The morning was very
grey, and a cold drizzle soon set in. My chair-bearers fell down
even before we got outside the city, and the road became more and
more sticky every moment. The men hate cold water, and had to walk
round every puddle, which took up a great deal of time. The ground is
composed of a particularly sticky clay, which is perhaps the reason why
not only the cattle but also the funny little black pigs wear straw
sandals when they travel.

After our chairs had been upset more than once we decided that it was
less unpleasant to walk, and the soldiers came valiantly to the rescue
when the road was specially difficult, as in the case of long flights
of slippery steps. Sometimes they gave us a hand, and sometimes they
clutched an elbow to save us. The descriptions of slippery places
and the perils of the road, as given in the Book of Psalms, were
perpetually before our mental vision. Nothing could more accurately
describe Chinese roads in wet weather. The coolies tied little metal
things on to their sandals, which was somewhat of a help, but we felt
almost thankful when at midday the rain settled into a steady downpour;
for, though it was rather dreary, it was less slippery. There were a
large number of chairs on the road, and some as important-looking as
our own. This was the only bit of the journey when we travelled like
mandarins, but we lacked the smart military uniforms of the mandarins’
coolies; ours were the most disreputable, ragged-looking crew, and
much less satisfactory as carriers than those we had in Shantung or
Yünnan. In the nine days that we had been travelling from Wanhsien we
had only once met a four-bearer chair, but now we were nearing the
capital--Chengtu--the road was much more crowded with traffic of all
sorts. The last stage of the journey is through comparatively level
country. After a breakneck descent from the mountains we entered the
plain in which Chengtu is situated. It is about ninety miles in length
by forty broad, and has been well described as a garden. Colonel
Manifold estimates that it contains a population of 1700 to the square
mile, and there are seventeen cities in it. The old familiar groan of
wheelbarrows greeted our ears once more, though the type is slightly
different here from that of Shantung; they are much smaller and only
accommodate one person, or (as we frequently saw) one fat pig, lying on
his back, with his legs in the air. The seat is immediately behind the
wheel, and it looks decidedly comic to see a woman, wearing tight pink
trousers, with a leg cocked jauntily on either side of the wheel.

[Illustration: SUNLIGHT AND MIST IN THE MOUNTAINS]

In this part of the country we passed through villages much more
frequently, and the people had a busier air. There are markets held
every few days in one or other of the villages, so that we continually
met people coming from them laden with their spoils. They kept passing
us on the road wearing paper caps over their hats, and on inquiry
we learnt that this was done to preserve their pristine freshness. The
fields were full of people weeding, and they looked very comfortable,
seated on their little stools, and with warming-pans between their
feet; for it was the week before Christmas, and the weather was growing
cold. The minute kind of care the peasants here give to their crops
is most interesting, each individual plant in a field being carefully
attended to and manured. Each member of a family seems to share in the
toil and to have implements suited to his or her size, some of them
the “cutest” little weapons imaginable. The people look well fed and
attended to, but their clothing is often a network of rags, and their
houses are singularly dark and forbidding. If there is any scarcity
through unfavourable crops, they suffer immediately and acutely, as
agriculture is the most important industry of the province. The men
have such long pipes that they frequently use them as walking-sticks.
Often the women came round and smilingly interrogated us. Then we went
through an amusing dumb conversation of the most friendly sort. The
subject is usually the same--_feet_--and they never fail to admire
our English boots, if not our feet. We, on our side, express much
admiration of the exquisite embroidery of their shoes, though we do not
admire _their_ feet. Everywhere they seem to think we must be doctors,
and they come and explain what a pain they have in the region of the
digestion. We administer a harmless and comforting dose of ginger, and
they swallow it with the utmost faith, which we hope may cause it to
be doubly efficacious. In any case it is a sign of our goodwill, and
establishes a friendly feeling among the people, and I do not see that
it can do any harm.

We reached Chengtu on the morning of the fourteenth day, and spent a
full hour wandering in search of the English missionary’s house, on
whose kind hospitality we were reckoning; for there are many missions
in this large city, and our men at once made for the most imposing,
which, needless to say, is American.

It may seem strange to people at home to hear that travellers
habitually swoop down on missions, often without even giving notice
beforehand, and are invariably welcomed with courtesy and kindness.
Travelling in China would be a much more difficult matter than it is
if it were not for the ungrudging helpfulness and hospitality of the
missionaries. Those to whom we had been directed were unable to take
us in, on account of illness, but had made arrangements for us to be
entertained at the Friends’ mission, and helped us in many other ways.

[Illustration: CITY GATE, CHENGTU]




CHAPTER XV

Chengtu


Chengtu is unquestionably the cleanest city in China, and probably is
the most progressive and enlightened of any purely native city. The
streets are broad and well kept, and the foreigner can walk anywhere
without the slightest fear of molestation. At almost every street
corner there is a policeman, and many of them have sentry-boxes. They
are neatly dressed in a sort of European uniform, and are decidedly
clean and civil. They wear a kind of small black sailor-hat, and the
smarter ones wear black thread gloves of native manufacture and carry
stout walking-sticks. Altogether, they are the best type of police we
met. There are no beggars with their hideous whine and incomparable
dirt. This is a magnificent triumph for the head magistrate, as a
few years ago they numbered twenty thousand in Chengtu; but he was
determined to put an end to the system, and has entirely succeeded. We
met a large school of boys neatly dressed, and were told that these
were the children of the beggars, whom he had collected into a large
school, where they are taught trades at the expense of the municipality.

On the day of our arrival a kind friend offered to take us round the
city. For the first time since leaving Shanghai, we found we could
go on a real shopping expedition, and we had a glorious afternoon of
it. It would be hard to find a more fascinating place than Chengtu
for shopping. The curio shops had much that was attractive, though
nothing of any great value. We were told that we must proceed with
great caution if we wished to get things at a reasonable price; and
fortunately we were able to discuss in an unknown tongue, which was
a great advantage to us in dealing with the shopkeepers. Our method
of procedure was as follows:--firstly, to look with interest at all
the things we did _not_ want, such as a baby’s feeding-bottle or old
beer-bottles; secondly, to point out all the flaws in anything that we
_did_ want, turning up our noses till they were nearly out of joint;
thirdly, to ask the prices of many things, and to exclaim “Ai-ah” in
an incredulous tone on hearing the price of the things that we wanted
to purchase. Then we named a price about five times below what was
asked. Finally we left the shop and strolled away up the street, while
our kind friend further discussed the matter with the shopkeeper,
we having previously arranged with him in English how high we were
willing to go. On an average we got the things at about half the price
named originally, but sometimes we got them considerably cheaper.
There was not much old china to be seen, but a few bronzes and a good
deal of interesting brass, mostly modern. Chengtu is a great place
for the manufacture of horn things, especially lanterns, which are
most ingeniously constructed. The sheets of horn are joined by being
melted together, and Hosie gives a most interesting description in
his trade report of the way that these and other things are made in
Chengtu. There is a great manufacture of masks, and of whole heads of
the same kind, which are painted brilliant colours, especially pink. In
another street it is interesting to watch the sacred money being made.
Outside each shop a tree trunk is set up about six feet high; the top
of it is carved to form a mould, the shape of a silver shoe. Into this
the paper--made from bamboo or rice straw--is beaten into shape with
a hammer by a man standing upon the counter in order to reach up to
it. The basket-shops, too, are most enticing, and here they make the
largest baskets I have ever seen, about four feet high and about two
yards in diameter. This is the place from which loofah comes; it is the
inside of a peculiar kind of melon. Chengtu is the great trade centre,
too, for spices and musk, furs, &c., which come from Tibet; but the
great trade of the place is in silks, as in the days of Marco Polo--and
these were brought to the house another day for us to see. The figured
_crêpe de Chine_ was beautiful, and the shades were different from
those to be seen at home. I got a lovely figured brocade at about 3s.
9d. per yard, and _crêpe de Chine_ at 1s. 6d. You can see these silks
being woven in numbers of the dark-looking houses, and the design is
made by a person sitting above the loom, almost in the roof. Another
charming industry is that of ribbons and braids, which are made on
the most ingenious little machines. The people sit outside their doors
working at them, as you see the women with their lace bobbins in
European countries.

The people seem a poor, cheerful, thrifty folk, and there is an air
of prosperous activity throughout the whole city. Many parts of it
are extremely picturesque, and there are beautiful trees of various
kinds shading the wide thoroughfares. In the evening our attention was
attracted by tall poles, with lights placed so high up that they could
have been of no possible use to anybody. We found that they were put up
by pious persons to light the “orphan spirits”--that is to say, to show
the way home to people who had died away from their own city.

The following day we visited the famous Buddhist monastery, enclosed
by a wall above which rose lofty trees. Passing through the fine
entrance, we faced a large gilt Buddha in a narrow shrine; back to
back with this, and divided off by a thin partition, was another
figure of the Buddha, facing the court. Here the Abbot received us
most courteously, and sent for his secretary to show us round. The
accompanying diagram shows the ordinary sort of arrangement both
of temples and monasteries. The temples generally form a group of
buildings separated from one another by courts one behind the other in
a straight line, the principal buildings forming the ends, and minor
buildings running along the sides of the courts. The hall of meditation
of the monks was an imposing room with seats along the walls, on
which the monks sit cross-legged, looking very much like Buddhas.
Everything was beautifully clean in the dining-hall, which was filled
with long tables, on which three bowls and a pair of chopsticks were
placed at intervals for each monk. In the kitchen we saw an enormous
boiler, where over a bushel of rice is cooked for each meal, to supply
the appetites of a hundred and fifty monks. A large wooden fish acts as
a gong for summoning the monks to meals, and another gong is used to
summon them to tea.

[Illustration: PLAN OF MONASTERY, CHENGTU]

One of the monks looked as if he had been recently branded for
sainthood with nine marks about the size of threepenny-bits,
symmetrically dotted over his skull. Hackmann gives an interesting
description of the way this is done in his book _Der Buddhismus_. The
candidate for sainthood has small pieces of incense fastened on to his
shaven head by means of resin. These are lighted and allowed to burn
into the flesh, while a chant is kept up by the other monks, and the
sufferer has some one to press his temples with his thumbs to relieve
the pain.

[Illustration: BUDDHIST MONASTERY]

At the end of the third courtyard we were taken into a lofty temple,
where the Abbot’s throne faced the doorway. A gilt Buddha, with fruit
and flowers placed on a table, formed a sort of altar in front of
it. Round doorways, without doors, led to guest-rooms on either side
of this hall, and we were hospitably entertained in one with tea and
cakes. By permission of the Abbot, I returned next day to make a sketch
of this picturesque interior, and in this sketch the doorway is
shown, which is very characteristic of Szechwan architecture. Many
of the inns in this province have circular doorways and windows. The
Abbot came and talked with us very politely, and on inquiry I learnt
that a most beautiful painting of lotus blossoms in black and white,
which hung over the doorway, was by a celebrated artist, and had been
presented to the monastery by a pious worshipper. The Abbot sat down
and began discussing our respective religions, which he said were
exactly the same. While agreeing as to their fundamental principle
being the same, I felt unable to discuss their differences, being
somewhat inattentive, I fear, owing to my endeavour to get on with
the sketch as rapidly as possible. Next the Abbot was sure we must be
hungry, though we had just been regaled with excellent sweets and tea,
and, despite our refusing it, he insisted on sending us some of the
meal to which he had been summoned. A monk soon appeared with bowls
of vermicelli and greens. It was not unpalatable, and much easier to
manage with chopsticks than might be supposed, as the bowl is held
close to the mouth and the food shovelled in with chopsticks aided by
suction. At intervals the novices came in to worship, and prostrated
themselves before the altar. Most of the monks were dressed in pretty
silver-grey robes, but some in the orthodox orange, and the Abbot
wore a blue cloak. It was certainly an attractive community, a great
contrast to those we saw in Peking.

Educationally Chengtu stands in the front rank of Chinese cities.
Everywhere there are schools and colleges established on the new lines,
and more are being built. The people are so enthusiastic that they have
rather overshot the mark, it may be thought. In order to facilitate the
girls’ going to school they are being dressed as boys, so that they may
pass through the streets unnoticed to attend the various schools which
have been started for them. One girl came to a friend of mine to seek
admission to her school, and not only did the European take her for a
boy (telling her the boys’ school was on the other side of the road),
but so also did the Chinese gatekeeper, who insisted she had come to
the wrong place. At the recent athletic sports the students put up a
notice that no lady with bound feet would be admitted to the ground,
and we hear that this notice is now being put up everywhere throughout
the empire on such occasions. Anti-foot-binding is certainly making
good progress among the upper classes, and we even saw a shoe-shop with
large shoes for ladies prominently displayed on the counter. Nowhere
else have we seen this.

There is a large military medical college at which there are three
French doctors. Their presence is not altogether agreeable to the
Chinese, and when one retired recently the officials took the
opportunity of suggesting that he should not be replaced. They said
that they could not afford his salary. How great must have been their
disappointment when they were informed that their new professor had
already arrived, and that the French authorities were quite willing to
pay for him! Foreign competition in China has its funny side, but I
marvel at the way the Chinese endure it.

The University is an interesting but eminently unpicturesque place,
and the students are cramming Western subjects in a way to cause
intellectual dyspepsia. As everywhere in China, English is the main
subject, and they have a professor from Cambridge, with two English
assistants and a Dane. French, German, and Japanese are also taught,
and there is only one professor for Chinese classics. Sunday is a
holiday, and many students spend the week-end at home. The walls of
the class-rooms are nearly all window, but it is in no ways disturbing
to Chinese students to have any number of spectators, or to be able to
see into the adjoining class-rooms. Each study is occupied by three
or four students, and the studies are simply partitioned corridors
with a passage down the centre and a railing on either side of it,
instead of walls. The dining-rooms are like outdoor restaurants with
a roof over them, and the students sit four at a table. The fees for
the year, including everything, are thirty dollars (about £3. 10s.).
Many students are very anxious to study in England, but cannot possibly
raise the necessary funds; and until proper arrangements are made to
look after them when they do come, it is hardly a desirable plan.
America is far ahead of us in this respect, and England would do well
to follow her example. Everything is in our favour at present, and
it might be of the utmost value as regards the development of China,
and the commercial interests of England, to seize the opportunity
of educating some of her ablest scholars. A Chinese gentleman told
me that students returning from England are very apt to be full of
bumptiousness because they have come out head of their class in
English schools, while they have failed to assimilate what they have
learnt. We spent an evening with some students, answering questions
about the different countries we had visited. They wanted to know
about the government, the religious and general conditions of other
lands. Naturally the questions covered far too big an area to admit of
satisfactory answers, but probably the men would have been willing to
listen all night, if we had been willing to go on talking. They were
most interested to hear the reasons why we admire China and the points
of superiority which it possessed.

[Illustration: MILITARY YAMEN]

On the last day of the year the Viceroy and the Tartar general
sent presents to all the foreign community. Their visiting-cards
were brought in, and a list of the presents which were waiting
outside--hams, pigeons, ducks, fruits, and sweetmeats. We went outside
to see them, and found the presents displayed on trays on the top
of large boxes, or hung round them. It is customary to select about
two things; visiting-cards are sent back with the remainder, and a
small present of money is given to the servants who bring the gifts.
They replace what has been selected from a supply inside the box,
and then carry them on to the next house. We went to see the Tartar
general’s yamen in the Manchu city, a very pretty spot embowered in
trees, and quite typical of Chinese official buildings. The inscription
over the entrance is “Yamen of the greatest General,” and on the
doors and walls are highly coloured pictures of the tutelary gods,
two celebrated generals of the T’Ang dynasty (A.D. 618 to 905); one
is white-faced, and the other red-faced. These pictures are repeated
all along the wall, and also on the doorways of the inner courtyard,
which in the sketch appears in the background. They are singularly
ugly, but as the pictures of the door-gods are seen on the houses
of all, even the poorest, the sketch of them may not be devoid of
interest. On private houses some of them are quite little papers like
advertisements, while again some of the private houses have large gilt
figures covering the whole doors. One day we went outside the city to
visit a fine temple, and came to a place where there is a road on which
you can drive in carriages. This is the only place in the province
where there is a carriage, but we did not have the privilege of seeing
it. The walls are broad enough and smooth enough on the top to make
a splendid carriage drive--four or five vehicles might easily drive
abreast--and as they are ten miles round, it would really be a fine
promenade. In the spring the view must be very beautiful, for there is
a range of snowy mountains in the distance, and many branches of the
Min River water the intervening plain. During the whole week that we
spent at Chengtu we never saw the mountains, on account of the mist;
but it was not hard to imagine the beauty of the place when the flowers
are out and the brilliant butterflies hovering round them.

We took part in an interesting event while we were staying here--the
purchase of land for a Christian university. Heavy bundles of silver
“tings” had to be weighed before the payment was settled. Four
different missionary societies have each agreed to build a college and
to provide a certain number of qualified teachers. It is also proposed
that Etonians should furnish a hostel. This university scheme for the
west seems likely to be the forerunner of one also in the east of the
empire, but the latter will be on more ambitious lines.

We were sorrier when the time came for us to leave Chengtu than we
were to resume our journey on any other occasion. We had decided to go
by river to Kiating, despite the fact that it was very low; and as we
left the city we came to the wall where the new barracks are situated,
and saw some soldiers doing the goose-step. Others were jumping into
a trench, where nearly every one landed on all-fours. There was very
great hesitation before they dared leap at all. The city is enclosed by
one of the branches of the river, and we had not to go very far outside
the wall before we reached the point where our boat was moored.




CHAPTER XVI

The Min River


We reached the riverside--it looked merely a stream--and found our
boat, with the luggage already aboard, looking most unpromising,
despite the efforts of our men. It was a small river craft about
eight feet broad. Bamboo matting not more than five feet high formed
our house-room, with a few planks for a door in front. Fragments
of matting made a partial screen in the centre. The floor was of a
rudimentary character, just a few boards with large gaps between
them, through which one could study the depth of water over which our
luggage was precariously poised on low props. In order to prevent all
our small things from dropping through the floor, we spread over it
our invaluable sheets of oil-cotton (a kind of waterproof largely used
everywhere in China), and fastened up a curtain at each end of the tiny
boat to secure a small amount of privacy. There was just space for
our two carrying-chairs and our mattresses. One of the chairs we used
as a wardrobe, and the other as a store-cupboard. The bamboo chairs
we had procured at the penitentiary of Chengtu, despite the advice of
our friends, as we found sedan-chairs very irksome, and decided that
open ones would be more comfortable and enable us to see the country
better. With long fur coats and foot muffs we felt that we could brave
the cold, and there was always the resource of walking if we got too
chilly. We never for a moment regretted our decision, and we found that
the men carried the open chairs far better than the heavy closed ones.
We profited at once by the exchange, as they were able to be used for
going to Mount Omi, and we were carried some distance up the mountain.
Under the seat was a box in which we could carry all our small things,
and the coolies hung their coats, hats, &c., on the back.

As our room was so small we sat mostly on the floor, so as to have
everything within reach without getting up. The cooking was a somewhat
difficult matter, as the brazier on which it was done was only six
inches in diameter, and rather apt to burn a hole in the floor if it
was heated sufficiently to do any cooking. We were glad of its warmth,
as the weather was very cold. Chopsticks were evidently the correct
fireirons, and are just the right size to match the charcoal. With
practice I got fairly expert at making palatable dishes, as naturally
the range of the menu was much limited. From this time onward I did
all the cooking, and I cannot help attributing to this fact mainly the
excellent health we enjoyed throughout the whole journey.

It was on his way from Chang Te to Mount Omi that the unfortunate
Lieutenant Brooke was murdered by Lolos about a year later than
we were there. We were strongly warned about the care requisite in
dealing with Lolos, and told that it was imprudent even to mention
the name in public, as it is considered a term of reproach. It was
suggested that we should spell it if desirous of speaking of them.
Their country is marked on the maps as “Independent Lolos,” and covers
about 11,000 square miles: no Chinaman dare penetrate into it without
the safe-conduct of a Lolo. Their speech, dress, customs, religion,
and laws are entirely different from those of the Chinese. No one has
yet come into sufficiently close contact with them to ascertain even
approximately the number of Lolo tribes in existence at the present
time, speaking different dialects. What was true at the time that Baber
explored Western Szechwan is equally true to-day--that practically
nothing is known about them. He gives a graphic description of the
Lolos whom he met, which I quote at length: “They are far taller than
the Chinese; taller probably than any European people. During the
journey we must have met hundreds of them, but we never saw one who
could be called, even from an English standard, short or undersized.
They are almost without exception remarkably straight-built, with
thin muscular limbs. Their chests are deep, as becomes mountaineers:
the speed and endurance with which they scale their native mountains
is a prodigy and a proverb for the Chinese. Their handsome oval
faces, of a reddish brown among those most exposed to the weather,
are furnished with large, level eyes, prominent but not exaggerated
cheekbones, an arched but rather broad nose, an ordinary mouth,
somewhat thin-lipped, and a pointed and characteristic chin from which
the beard has been plucked. The same process has denuded the upper
lip, which is of good proportion. Their teeth are remarkably white and
regular, a preservation for which they account by asserting that they
never eat roast meat, but always boil their food. Perhaps the most
marked character of their faces is a curious tendency to wrinkles,
especially on the forehead, which is low, but broad and upright. The
lowness of the features may be merely an illusive appearance, since
it is overshadowed by a peculiar style of hairdressing. With very
rare exceptions the male Lolo, rich or poor, free or subject, may be
instantly known by his _horn_. All his hair is gathered into a knob
over his forehead, and then twisted up into a cotton cloth, so as to
resemble the horn of a unicorn. The horn with its wrapper is sometimes
a good nine inches long.” Baber mentions slave raids made by the Lolos
to capture Chinese children, whom they usually bring up like their own
children. They tattoo the slaves on the forehead with a blue cross.
Apparently it is to have a place of safety in case of such raids that
the Chinese have built towers like the one I have sketched on the
borders of Yünnan. Many of the customs of the Lolos are peculiar and
interesting, and the position of woman is far above that enjoyed in
China. The birth of a girl is more highly esteemed than that of a
boy, and a stranger introduced by a woman Lolo has the best possible
guarantee. Baber considered that a European would be quite safe in
Lololand if properly introduced and of honest character. The most
experienced and successful travellers always seem to emphasise the
importance of the latter fact.

We were escorted by two soldiers, as usual. Our progress was far from
rapid, as the river is extremely low at this season. For the first two
days we were generally able to see to the bottom, and often we scraped
the stones if we did not actually stick fast. The men seemed to spend
nearly as much time in the river, pushing and pulling us, as on the
boat. It was a picturesque and interesting journey, as we continually
came to the dams made for irrigation purposes. We much regretted that
we were unable to visit Kwan Hsien (thirty-six miles north of Chengtu),
where the system of irrigation of the plain can be seen at its source.
As we were short of time, and also heard that we should not see much at
this time of the year, it did not seem worth while going there. The Min
River flows from the Min Hills, and just near Kwan Hsien a cutting was
made in order to divide it into two large branches. These again were
subdivided into many others, forming a network to irrigate the whole of
the plain in which Chengtu lies. This was done by an able governor more
than 200 years B.C., and the original system, which is still in use
to-day, has turned an unproductive plain into one of great fertility.
Naturally, there have been many improvements made in the course of
centuries, and dams and dikes have been erected to regulate the flow
of water. We were able to see quite a number of these after leaving
Chengtu, and to marvel at their simple and successful construction.
They are mostly made of bamboo crates, filled with stones, and rising
about three feet above water. These are placed in long lines, and
the temporary dike is made of sand. The channels have to be cleaned
regularly, and large sums have to be spent on repairs. The farmers
pay a tax of about ½d. an acre, and, in order to get the money in
regularly, they are compelled to pay double if it is not paid before
a certain date. For about a month yearly the river below Chengtu is
closed, and there is always a great crowd of boats at that time, both
above and below the dam, waiting for the re-opening. The opening of a
big dam, such as the “Frog’s Chin,” is an imposing ceremony, preceded
by a day of worship at the temples and the inspection of dikes. All
the officials attend, and when the sluice is opened the runners of the
officials lash the water, and the women and the children throw stones
in to make the water run faster to irrigate the fields!

[Illustration: HOUSE ON MIN RIVER]

Throughout the plain there are many water-wheels to raise the water to
higher levels, and some also are apparently used for grinding corn. At
the close of our first day’s journey on the river there was a great
deal of loud talk when we halted for the night, added to the tiresome
beating of the drums by the night watchmen, who patrol the towns and
big villages all night long. It turned out that a man had come to try
and persuade our captain to undertake a bigger job than ours. On being
warned that the interpreter would hear what he said, he remarked that
it did not matter, as he would not be able to understand the dialect.
Mr. Ku, however, had studied the dialect when he was at college, and
thoroughly understood the plan that was being devised. This was that
we should slip down the river in the middle of the night, while the
escorts were away sleeping at the inn. Then some story would be trumped
up that the boat could not take us any farther, and we should have been
obliged to find another one. Mr. Ku had the good sense to go ashore at
once and apply to the Yamen for a couple of soldiers to come and sleep
on board, so that there was no opportunity for the captain to undertake
the new job even if he had been willing to do so, and we had no further
trouble. Certainly, one could hardly be surprised if the captain wished
to make a little more money, for he receives about 6s. for a trip which
lasts four days, and out of this money he has to pay and feed two other
men besides feeding our two. We hear that a man can live (without
starving) on a penny a day for food, and the regular allowance of
soldiers is only 2d. per day.

We passed many picturesque villages, some built in lath and plaster,
which, at a little distance, might almost have been taken for Cheshire
villages, if it were not for the beautiful blue figures flitting about;
for blue is the universal colour of the clothing here. We were much
interested to see a large number of fishing cormorants at one place;
but unfortunately they were not at work. Very light rafts are used for
this purpose, turned up at one end, as in the sketch. We also twice
saw otters used for the same purpose. The Chinese declared to us that
the otter brings the fish up in its paws, and not in its mouth; but
they always invent an answer so glibly to your question, whether they
know the answer or not, that I should certainly not believe the above
without further corroboration. We were surprised to see in one place
that the cormorants (after diving) were fished up to the surface in
baskets very much the same shape as the birds, and evidently made for
the purpose.

[Illustration: OTTER FISHING ON MIN RIVER]

About forty miles below Chengtu, the two main branches of the river
unite and form something more worthy of the name of river. The branch
which flows through Chengtu is called the “Walking Horse River” at its
division from the main current--a very dangerous spot for navigation,
and one where there are constant disasters. It is said that the rafts
generally carry coffins with them in consequence; and certainly the
number of those carrying coffins which passed us going upstream gives
colour to the story. It was curious to see the boats being towed along
by men walking beside them in the water harnessed as trackers. Lower
down, the river becomes deeper, and some of the rapids look very
pretty, as the water is a bluish-green colour and the rocks are red
sandstone. Sometimes the road from the riverside leads up precipitous
hills by long stone staircases. The reflections of the common blue
clothes of the people, as seen in the river, are an exquisite turquoise
colour. The scenery becomes increasingly beautiful as one proceeds
down the river. Our escort was changed daily, and one man brought a
fowling-piece on board with which to beguile the time. He tried to
shoot the wild ducks, which are the size and colour of our tame ones,
but he had not the smallest success. We were interested to see the
loading of the weapon, which had a piece of smouldering rope finally
thrust down the barrel, preparatory to its being fired off. The gun
had to be balanced on a bundle of sticks while careful aim was taken
at a very near bird sitting quite still. Even then, the bird was in no
danger, so far as we could see, but ineffectual attempts to shoot kept
the man busy all day. The soldier wore a silver ring, of which he was
extremely proud. This had to be entrusted to the other soldier each
time that he fired his weapon. Part of the way we had police boatmen,
who spent some time in rowing, and were of material assistance to us;
but unfortunately this was only a rare occurrence.

Kiating was the first large town we reached, and here we left the boat
in order to make our expedition to Mount Omi.




CHAPTER XVII

Mount Omi


We reached Kiating in the morning, and set to work at once on our
preparations for the next day. The people there considered us very
extraordinary for wishing to make the ascent at such an unusual time
of year, and told us that it would be worse than useless, for we
should certainly see nothing at all from the top. They pointed out
how arduous an ascent it would be, as the snow would make climbing
extremely difficult. The weather had been cloudy for some time, and
we were in the land of mists, but nothing would deter us from our
intention. We had read discouraging accounts of other travellers who
had been up there, and it certainly sounded as if we should find the
ascent beyond our strength, but we determined, at all events, to
_try_. We arranged to take as little luggage as possible, but it was
necessary to take food for six days, as on the sacred mountain there
are no inns. There are plenty of monasteries, which give you reasonable
accommodation, but it was quite unlikely we should get food there. The
first day we travelled across the plain some twenty miles to the foot
of the mountain. The scenery was pretty, but nothing remarkable was to
be seen at this time of the year. One of the principal objects of
interest is the white wax tree, a sort of ash, called by the Chinese
“Pai-la-Shu.” The white wax insects are bred in the celebrated valley
of the Chien-ch’ang, some 200 miles away among the mountains. When
they reach the right stage of development they are put in paper boxes,
in bamboo trays, and brought to the plain of Kiating 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 much to suffer if they
are on the road at the same time. Finally, the education of the grub is
finished in the plain round Kiating.

[Illustration: POLICE BOATMAN: MIN RIVER]

[Illustration: SIGNBOARD OF INN]

We crossed a large river, and cliffs were pointed out to us containing
caves called Man-tsi dwellings, and we were told that they were
formerly inhabited by aborigines of that name. The banks of the Min
River are honeycombed with them, and it is only quite recently that
this Chinese tradition has been called in question. A resident in
that district, who was interested in the pottery mounds left by the
Man-tsi when they were driven farther west by the Chinese during the
Han dynasty (200 B.C.-200 A.D.), was told of the existence of an
earthenware coffin. He went to see it, and further investigation proved
that such coffins were to be found habitually in the caves, together
with fragments of household implements. He found also drawings of
architectural columns and figures of winged gods and winged animals
carved on the rock, of a totally different character from anything
Chinese. The caves differ very much in size, varying from small
ones, ten feet deep by seven broad and seven high, to large ones, a
hundred feet in depth and eight or ten feet broad and seven or more
high. Some of the larger ones have side compartments. Sometimes large
simple caves are to be found some thirty or forty feet square, and
they are supported by pillars of rock, with well-chiselled chapiters
and ornamental masonry above them. These caves have all the same kind
of doorways, but they vary considerably in fineness of design and
execution. Some of the lintels and sides are well carved. The entrances
have been built up, and sometimes so skilfully filled in with earth
that all external traces of them are obliterated.

As may be supposed, a large number of these caves have been broken
into by the Chinese and rifled of their contents. In a cave opened at
Penshau in 1908, two skeletons were found lying on either side of the
entrance, one with a long sword lying beside it, and the other with a
short sword. There were small images in niches at the upper end of the
cave, and a large jar full of cash, besides many household dishes. As
this was evidently the burying-place of a poor family, there were no
earthenware coffins; but in a similar one, evidently belonging to a
rich family, the corpses were all in earthenware coffins, the material
of which was the same as that now used in the district for making tiles
for the houses. In this cave there were a number of birds and domestic
animals in burnt clay, a variety of crockery, and various traces of
its former wealth, but it had evidently been robbed of such things as
the brass basins and cash which are found in these wealthier tombs.
The writer of the article in the _North China Herald_ (Dec. 26, 1908),
from whose account I have made this brief summary, goes on to say that
the coffins are made in two pieces, the main body and the lid. He
investigated a large number of these caves, which are being ruthlessly
destroyed by the natives, who have no idea of the value of what they
find in them, and will sell such things as swords for a few pence to
be used as old iron. Stone coffins are also not uncommon in them. The
caves were evidently closed about the beginning of the Christian era,
when the Man-tsi were still living on the banks of the Min River. It is
to be hoped that some capable archæologist will soon take up the study
of these caves before it is too late, as evidently there is much to
be learnt with regard to the history of the Chinese as well as of the
Man-tsi in that district.

Marco Polo, in referring to the Man-tsi district, mentions the
widespread culture of cinnamon, and what we procured in Chengtu was
certainly the most delicious we had ever tasted.

Rain began to fall as we neared the town of Omi, and we found there was
no chance of our getting farther that night. Fresh coolies had to be
engaged the next day, as it requires experienced men for going up the
mountain. The usual method of being carried is to sit on a wooden perch
attached to the shoulders of the coolies. A young American whom we met
had been carried up to the top in this way. At one point the coolie
stopped on the edge of a precipice to take a little rest, and suddenly
stooped down, so that the American hung over the abyss. On his uttering
a remonstrance, the coolie remarked quite unconcernedly, “Have no fear;
I am only picking up a pebble with my toes.” He was standing on one leg!

[Illustration: MOUNT OMI BRIDGE]

We arranged to start at our usual hour, 6.30; but we waited for a
long time in vain. A few coolies came and fussed round the luggage,
but while the others were being brought they disappeared, so that we
began to fear we should never do our stage. A great deal of scolding
and losing of one’s temper (no simulation in the present case, though
that is often necessary in China in order to make the coolies start)
had to be gone through before we started. At last we got off at 8
o’clock, with the understanding that the coolies were to get us as far
as Wan Yen Sz that day, for we had been told that we must be sure to go
to that place and stop at a comfortable monastery. There are seventy
monasteries on the mountain; some of them very large, but others
small and ill-kept. As soon as we left the plain the scenery became
more and more beautiful. At the foot of it magnificent banyans and
groups of sacred cedars formed a fine contrast to the slender trunks
of the other trees. Then we came to a charming crystal stream, shaded
by arching bamboos. The path was so narrow that whenever we met
any one, they had to stride across the stream to let us pass, or they
would scuttle away (if they were women) to some spot where there was
room to stand, for the chair-bearers never pause or give way to other
passengers; they simply ignore their being there and walk straight into
them. Maidenhair and every kind of lovely fern was reflected in the
green water. As we went up the valley the path led perilously round
lofty rocks; once my chair stuck fast, unable to be moved either way,
with the horrible precipice yawning below. My bearers yelled (from
anger, not fear, I think), and one of the soldiers happily came to the
rescue, for I cannot think what would have happened otherwise. Another
time one of the front coolies fell flat coming down a flight of steps,
so that on the whole we found that part of the journey very anxious
work, both going up and coming down. We soon abandoned our chairs and
began walking up endless flights of steps. We crossed an interesting
little bridge ornamented with a dragon facing up the stream, whose tail
projected from the farther side of the bridge, as in the sketch. These
dragons are a favourite ornament of bridges in this province, and are
there not merely for ornament but also to ward off the evil spirits.
That is why they always face up the stream. The person crossing the
bridge is a typical Szechwan woman.

We reached Wan Yen Sz much earlier than we expected. The bronze
elephant in the temple there is considered very interesting, but it is
certainly not ornamental. It is said to have come from India, and how
it was conveyed thence nobody can explain. It had been damaged by fire,
and there was a large hole in the under side, so a shrine had been made
there, and two little Buddhas put in it, with incense in front. The
tail was also extremely defective, so bits of incense like hairs had
been stuck at the end of it. The Chinese really have no sense of the
ludicrous in such matters, though they have a keen sense of humour, and
one is constantly tempted to laugh in the temples. Happily, they do not
mind this at all, and would not think that we were showing any lack
of reverence. In the adjoining temple the monks were chanting, while
two or three of them kept up a continuous beating on the Buddha fish
and other gongs, as seen in the sketch. In front of the Buddha, and
almost concealing him, was a large stone monument put up by an Indian
prince. Near here we were shown a piece of stone which was said to be
the Buddha’s tooth. It weighed several pounds, and is much venerated by
pilgrims.

We provided ourselves with stout pilgrim staves, which we found of
the utmost value on both our up ward and downward journeys. They have
quaintly carved dragons or tigers at the top, with a loose wooden pea
which rattles in their mouths. These sticks cost from a penny to 2½d.,
and after the pilgrimage has been performed it is the correct thing to
have them painted red and black and gold. The tiger is the mountain
god who was worshipped long before the existence of the Buddha, and
whose shrines are still to be seen all the way up the mountain, with
incense burning before them.

[Illustration: BUDDHIST MONK, CHANTING]

[Illustration: TIGER SHRINE]

It was interesting to find on Mount Omi the two great Chinese symbols
of power, the dragon and the tiger. As Laurence Binyon puts it: “In
the superstitions of literal minds the Dragon was the genius of the
element of water, producing clouds and mists; the Tiger the genius
of the Mountains, whose roaring is heard in the wind that shakes the
forest. But in the imagination of poets and of artists these symbols
became charged with spiritual meanings, meanings which we should regard
as fluid rather than fixed, and of imports varying with the dominant
conceptions of particular epochs. In the Dragon is made visible the
power of the spirit, the power of the infinite, the power of change; in
the Tiger the power of material forces.”

It is worthy of note that the Buddhists selected mountains already
sacred, where they might establish themselves and form Buddhist
sanctuaries. They tolerated the gods in possession, so that they still
continue to be worshipped simultaneously with the Buddha. The mixing
up of religions is seen everywhere in China, but nowhere did we notice
it so grotesquely carried out as here. We counted no fewer than twelve
tiger shrines on the way up the mountain, many of them with vivacious
beasts half out of their shrines, as if they were tired of their rôle
and were meditating a raid on their worshippers. In the evening the
Abbot had prepared a feast for us, but we declined it, so he sent in a
tray of nuts and sweets instead.

The following morning we set off betimes on foot, and very soon the
coolies left the carrying-poles behind, and were obliged to carry our
chairs on their backs. Soon the steps became almost continuous and
increasingly slippery. The longest flight was over 1200 steps, and
as the steps sloped downwards and were covered with ice the ascent
was most fatiguing and toilsome. The day was grey and cloudy, but the
shifting mists revealed crags and abysses, and all along our path there
was a wealth of lovely shrubs--camellias, rhododendrons, bamboos, and
ferns. The frost had coated everything, and the leaves were reproduced
in ice, looking exactly like clear glass; sprays of dead blossom, tall
grasses, delicate ferns, everything was duplicated in ice, and the
slight thaw early in the day detached this ice from the vegetation. We
were sorry not to see in full beauty the flowers and ferns for which
Mount Omi is justly celebrated, but it would have been impossible to
conceive anything lovelier than what we did see.

Our midday halt at a monastery was provokingly long, as the men’s
food had to be cooked, so that we did not start for a couple of
hours. The sight of fowls here was a pleasant surprise to us, as the
Buddhists obviously could have no use for them and our larder needed
replenishing. We secured some eggs, and asked for a fowl also. When
we came to pay for it, however, the monks said that they did not sell
anything. If we liked to put our names down on their subscription list
(which a monk forthwith produced) for the restoration of the monastery,
we should be welcome to a fowl as a gift, not otherwise. We set out
again, and found our way grow more and more precipitous and slippery.
We met Tibetan pilgrims, a wild and fierce-looking company, toiling
painfully upwards like ourselves, or slithering down. All these are
welcomed and entertained in the monasteries. Our soldier escort was
evidently very much afraid of them, and had a great deal to say of
their evil doings, warning us to keep close together and close to
himself. As I approached a group of pilgrims in one of the monasteries,
in order to watch a man blowing up his fire with a goatskin bellows,
one of them scowled at me and waved me away, as if he feared our
sharing his thieving propensities. This is the season for Tibetan
pilgrims, and many of them had travelled far, bringing their beasts of
burden with them. The Chinese pilgrims come in the spring, and there
was a big pilgrimage ten years ago--so a monk told us. The air grew
intensely cold and dense, and, as twilight fell, our men urged us
to halt about two miles short of the summit, where there was a good
monastery. To this we willingly agreed, the more so as my breathing had
grown extremely difficult, and I was beginning to feel at the end of
my strength. Our lofty room was clean and well built, and the ten beds
around it all stood empty. Soon a large glowing brazier was brought
in, and we were thankful not only to get warm, but also to dry our
clothes, which were heavy with mist.

Mount Omi is 11,000 feet high, and Kiating is only 1200, so we had come
into a wholly different temperature, and when we woke in the morning
it was to find everything frozen hard--sponges like boards, oranges
as hard as bullets, and the water in my sketching-bottle a lump of
ice. But the sun was shining brilliantly, and the mountain-top was a
dazzling vision of loveliness emerging from a vast ocean of clouds. It
took us about an hour to arrive at the summit, and the priest told us
that as the sun shone we were evidently good people. This was highly
satisfactory, as so many people thought us fools for attempting the
ascent at this time of year, telling us of all the people who had
toiled to the top and seen nothing. We anxiously inquired at what time
of day we could see “Buddha’s Glory,” a sort of Brocken spectre which
is rarely seen by travellers, and which we were told could not be seen
at all at this time of year. Standing on the edge of the summit, you
look down a precipice of more than a mile, and we could only feast our
eyes on the ever-changing scene, the clouds looking as if they were
boiling up from some hidden caldron, now concealing, now revealing the
peaks of distant mountains. On a clear day the far-distant snowy peaks
of Tibet are visible, and the glorious fertile plain out of which the
limestone peak of Mount Omi rises.

[Illustration: SUMMIT OF MOUNT OMI]

I established myself in a sunny nook under the temple eaves, and
sent for hot water with which to sketch the neighbouring crag of the
“10,000 Buddhas.” After lunch I sketched the interior of the Buddha
shrine with all its gaudy, squalid trappings, a harmony in reds. I
was amazed to see the brevity of the worshippers’ prayers; owing, I
think, to their fear of my introducing them into the sketch. The three
figures of the Buddha were behind a large red curtain, in which were
openings through which they could be dimly discerned. We went back to
our former quarters for the night, but had very little rest, as the
coolies went in for a night of revelry, in which we felt sure the monks
shared, although our suggestion to that effect next day was vehemently
repudiated. The descent of the mountain we found extremely arduous,
despite our being shod with straw sandals and having the support of
our pilgrim sticks; it was dreadfully slippery, and for six and a half
hours we toiled steadily down flights of steps, or glissaded down
them on our backs. We calculated the distance as not much less than
twelve miles. The stiffness produced was not quite so bad as I had
anticipated, but it makes you feel extremely foolish to have to watch
each step you take in order to be sure that your feet are obeying
your bidding. Then you see the coolies pick up the chairs and carry
you for another three hours after you are dead beat as if they had
done nothing. We spent the night at a clean new inn about three miles
from the town of Omi, and for the first time we occupied an upstairs
bedroom in a Chinese house. After this occasion we always used to try
and secure one, but our stiffness then made it extremely painful to get
up the steep staircase. It was like mounting into a loft, and was a
very pleasant variety from any inn we had yet encountered.

The following morning we made an early start, so as to have a little
time in Kiating to collect our belongings and go on board a boat to
take us to Sui Fu. Our temper was sorely tried by the delay of our men
and the changing of some of them at Omi Hsien, which delayed us about
an hour. By dint of offering extra pay, however, we made up some time,
and came upon an interesting sight to beguile us on the way--namely,
cormorants and an otter fishing. When we got to the Tong River--the
third river that we saw at the base of the mountain--we were rowed down
to Kiating, a distance of some four miles. We were curious to see what
the coolies would pay for the boat journey, as they had arranged the
matter. For the four chairs and the eighteen people, the whole cost was
thirty cash--namely, three farthings. We got back to Kiating soon after
four o’clock, and found that our friends had kindly got everything
ready for our departure. The thought of two quiet days on the boat was
not unacceptable after a somewhat laborious but entirely satisfactory
trip up Mount Omi, and it was many days before we recovered from our
stiffness. Owing to mist, we did not see the impressive view of Mount
Omi as it rises from the plain.




CHAPTER XVIII

From Szechwan into Yünnan


The boat in which we continued our journey down the Min River was
rather larger than the one we had previously, but still we could not
stand upright in it. It is not always easy to get just what you want
in the way of boats, especially at this time of year; but it was not a
long journey, although our men took about four times as long as they
ought to have done, and it was only by offering extra payment that we
managed to do it in two days. We had one piece of good luck on the way.
Our kind friends at Chengtu, when replenishing our stores, had lamented
the non-arrival of a large case of biscuits sent out by friends in
England, mentioning the name of the firm from which they were coming.
As we neared Sui Fu we were watching divers getting up cases which had
evidently been shipwrecked, and conspicuous amongst them was a large
case bearing the name referred to. On arrival at Sui Fu we reported
this at the mission station where we stayed, and learnt that they had
heard of the wreck and sent to inquire whether the case had been got
up. Shortly afterwards their messenger returned, saying that it could
not be found. Our information being explicit, we described exactly the
spot where we had seen the wreck, a few miles above the town; the man
was sent again and told that he _must_ bring the case, as we had seen
for ourselves that it had been got up. This time he returned in triumph
with it. Probably the divers thought that they would get a better price
by selling the contents, and if we had not seen it our friends would
not have seen it either.

The town of Sui Fu is most charmingly situated, lying at the junction
of the Yangtze and the Min rivers, and is enclosed in a fork between
the two, with beautiful hills rising above it. Its name is both spelt
and pronounced in various ways, to the great bewilderment of those who
address letters. It is Sui Fu, or Hsui Fu, or Sú Cheo, or Schow, or
Su Chau, or it may be rendered in various other ways. Well might the
London telegraph clerk say to my sister, “If you send a wire it is only
at your own risk,” in answer to my wire from Peking giving the Pekinese
spelling. It is a busy and flourishing place, and possesses a Roman
Catholic cathedral as well as a convent.

[Illustration: COPPER IMAGE, SUI FU]

A Roman Catholic priest is deeply interested in the local divinity,
which is certainly an interesting specimen of art, if nothing more; but
the priest is firmly persuaded that it is St. Thomas, and takes all
his friends to see it. The god is enshrined in a temple on a hillside
overlooking the town. It is a most beautiful situation, but somewhat
spoilt by the fact that it is entirely covered with graves. Hills are
frequently utilised for this purpose, and contain thousands of
graves. The gaudily painted figure is 18 feet high and 5½ feet broad,
made of fine red copper. It stands on a large bronze turtle, from
which, unfortunately, a good part has been stolen; the head alone is
in excellent preservation. It was erected some hundreds of years ago
by the Lolos or Ibien, an aboriginal tribe who then held possession of
this part of the country. They believed that he was a saint who came
over the seas on a turtle, and this certainly corresponds with the
legend of St. Thomas going to India. It is a very truculent-looking
saint, not lightly to be parted from his sword. The figure is well
fenced off from view by large bars, though one has been removed, so
that people can push through and get a closer look at him. While I was
busy sketching, a priest came up to look, with his long hair fastened
on the top of his head by a carved wooden pin. The priests do not
plait their hair, but simply twist it up into a sort of “bun.” A woman
came up with offerings--fowl, sweets, &c.--which, after they had
been offered to the god, she would take home and eat with the greater
relish. This is certainly a way of killing two birds with one stone,
as she was too poor to have eaten chicken on ordinary occasions. As we
came down the hill we met the chief mourner of a funeral, wearing the
coarsest sackcloth, which he could scarcely prevent from falling off,
as it is incorrect on such occasions to gird it round the waist.

We left Sui Fu on January 14th, _en route_ for Yünnan Fu, and felt
that the seasons had got strangely mixed up, as we wended our way
along the banks of the Yangtze. This part of it is called the “river
of the golden sand.” It is quite a misnomer, for it is as mud-coloured
as ever. The peas were in various stages of growth in the part of
the river-bed from which the water had subsided. Some looked lovely
with their white, pink, or plum-coloured blossoms; others were quite
small, only a few inches high; and others again we enjoyed for our
evening meal. The people were all busy harvesting the sugar-cane, and
we seemed to be the only persons here not chewing it. Our soldiers
surreptitiously stole it from the loads that were being carried along
the road. Beautiful orange groves on the steep slopes above the river
were full of ripe fruit. Men were busy preparing the soil for other
crops by breaking the sods with mallets after they had been ploughed.
The whole land is one great ceaseless field of labour, where every one
works from early childhood to extreme old age.

[Illustration: CORMORANTS ON THE CORMORANT RIVER]

On the fourth day’s journey we reached the borders of the province
of Yünnan. Our road parted from the Yangtze and ran for many days
parallel with a lovely river (of a deep blue-green colour like those in
the Pyrenees), whose course we followed from the point where it fell
into the Yangtze up to its birthplace in the mountains. Sometimes the
pathway winds high up the hillsides, and sometimes almost down to the
river’s edge. The cormorants were busy fishing--not for John Chinaman,
but for themselves. We had the merriest set of sturdy carriers,
who treated our weight as if it were a mere joke, and laughed and ran
with us, despite the roughness of the way, and rather to our terror
sometimes. They are much stronger than the ordinary Szechwan coolies.
Indeed, that is a necessity in the case of these roads, which are no
better than sheep-tracks in the Cumberland fells, despite their being
the great trade-route between the two largest provinces of Western
China. Day by day we revelled in the beauty of the scenery and its
ever-varying charms. There was subtler charm in them than there would
have been when the flowers are in blossom, for it was the moment
when the earth was awakening after its winter sleep; every twig was
beginning to change colour; the buds were swelling; the delicate fronds
of innumerable ferns were uncurling; the birds were hesitatingly trying
their notes; and the sun had not yet given the dazzling blue to the sky
which comes later on. It only illuminated and irradiated, but did not
dazzle the eyes. We felt that we had come exactly at the right moment,
for the weather was perfect for walking, and it was not nearly so cold
as we expected. The inns are not so bad as they have been described,
and we came on one where there was a beautiful large window--above the
pig-sty--overlooking the country, and the unwonted light had encouraged
travellers to make remarks on the walls in French, German, and English,
as well as Chinese.

After entering Yünnan we came to a substantial suspension-bridge,
made of eight parallel iron chains, and with chain hand-rails; but
the planks on it were strewn about in a desultory way, calculated to
upset unseasoned travellers. At either end of the bridge was a solid
block of masonry, surmounted by a temple through which the chains
passed and were buried deep into the ground. These bridges are often a
considerable length, and do not hang at a natural swing, but are drawn
up as tightly as possible with hawsers; which, of course, makes a heavy
strain upon the chains. This kind of bridge is to be found throughout
the province, and they always seem in good condition. We cannot help
wishing that a little of the engineer’s skill had also been expended
on the steep rough track which led up from the bridge. The roads are
apparently never mended, and in some places had fallen away, or had
been covered by a small landslip.

It was curious to see the change of vegetation when we crossed the
border, the poppy replacing the pea to a large extent. Yünnan is the
greatest opium-growing province in the Empire, and the best; but there
is already a perceptible diminution since the new anti-opium Acts.
We saw peas of various kinds, and one that is grown for making oil
is quite peculiar: the peas grow three together like a berry. As we
approached a somewhat barren district the men had to have a feast at
our expense, and in view of the future scarcity of their much-esteemed
pork, our soldiers had provided themselves with a large joint, which
I found in one of the coolies’ hats attached to the back of my
chair. They never scrupled to hang their dainties, besides an extensive
wardrobe, pipes, &c., on to our chairs, and as the day proceeded they
peeled off their coats till they had shed three or four at the least.

[Illustration: LAOWATAN RIVER]

We noticed an odd procession one day wending its way along the opposite
river-bank. First came a white banner with apparently two mourners;
then a few people carrying little pennons of various colours; then a
pig borne aloft on a shutter; then more boys and men carrying pennons;
the whole accompanied by the beating of drums. The procession was on
its way to a grave to pay homage to a dead ancestor, in which ceremony
the pig would be the _pièce de résistance_ at a sort of perennial feast
for the dead. Later on we met a procession carrying a corpse on a
stretcher, with no signs of mourning beyond a man strewing paper money
after it.

We followed the beautiful river Laowat’an as far as the village of
that name, and up to this point we were continually accompanied by
the unmelodious cries of trackers pulling large junks up the rapids;
beyond that point navigation is impossible. Laowat’an means “Cormorant
rapid,” and although it is quite a good-sized village, we found that
the only room at the inn was very small, filled with four dirty beds,
with no window, and close to the most noxious open drain. Having seen
in Little’s pamphlet about this journey that he had stayed at a native
evangelist’s house here, we took the hint and sent to see if we could
do likewise. We received an answer in the affirmative, and found that
the house was close by. Though the evangelist himself was not at home,
we were warmly welcomed by his wife. She took us to a nice large upper
room, with a most attractive window overlooking the street, which
was full of an amusing crowd busy marketing. One man’s occupation
appeared to be carrying a pipe round, from which people had a whiff
or two. We found our new quarters vastly more entertaining than the
inn, and held an interesting conversation with our hostess by means of
pictures and dumb-show, as we had no one to interpret. I hope we did
not tell many lies by mistake, but fear that it is not improbable. The
next morning we felt quite sorry to leave these nice people, who had
been so friendly to us. We were greatly struck with the fine poultry
all through this district. My Aberdonian poulterer would with great
justice describe them as “some fine beasts.” There are the handsomest
pure white and coal-black hens, besides fowls of various colours. The
eggs, too, are a splendid size, and are to be obtained everywhere.
The peculiarity of the fowls is that many of them have black skins
and black bones, which are most unappetising to look at, but they are
considered the best kind for eating. There were plenty of vegetables,
pears, oranges, and peanuts to be had, and so far we could see no signs
of the dearth of food of which we had heard such alarming accounts.
There are everywhere pigs in abundance: some of them are a curious fawn
colour.

[Illustration: OUR MILITARY ESCORT]

[Illustration: “ORPHAN SPIRIT” SHRINE]

We crossed a fine suspension-bridge after leaving Laowat’an, and took a
path leading upwards for about a couple of hours over the mountains. A
light for the “orphan spirits” might well be needed on such a road. The
chair-carriers found it difficult work, and we got on much more quickly
on our own feet; though the coolies made no suggestion that we should
walk, despite the fact that we had authorised them to do so whenever
the road was difficult. They are so willing and attentive in performing
any little service--such as cleaning one’s boots after walking through
a quagmire--that one the more gladly saves them when the road is stiff.
One coolie fell and wrenched his knee rather badly, but he went on most
uncomplainingly, and showed intense gratitude on getting it bathed
and bandaged. In fact, from this time on he was our devoted slave. We
were interested to meet quite a new god in this region. He has three
faces, and often wears a large stone hat. He is carved in stone, and
stands by the roadside like a little milestone at intervals all along
the way; but frequently there are no signs of worship about him. He is
called by the Buddhist formula “O mi to fu,” and is worshipped by the
coolies to prevent their getting sore feet, so they frequently burn
sandals (quite new ones) before him, and incense sticks may be seen in
front of his image. Day by day we went up and down the most precipitous
places, gradually rising to the Yünnan plateau. The road grew worse and
worse, being much injured by the long trains of pack-animals. Ponies,
mules, and donkeys are driven in parties of from ten to thirty; and
not only do they make the road full of little round holes, but also
they are a dreadful hindrance, frequently completely blocking the way.
The path, besides, has large round stones embedded in it, which are
polished by the coolies’ sandals till they shine like porphyry. One day
we met dozens of mules going down a breakneck zigzag staircase in the
rocks, and we were bespattered by them with mud from head to toe, being
compelled to wait while they went past. How they keep their footing it
is hard to tell, and it is sad to see their sore backs when their loads
are off. The loads being carried are of a most varied description:
copper, tin, coal, salt, skins, spices, chillies, armadillo skins,
paper, bowls, opium, and later in the season large quantities of the
wax insect “larvæ.” In a recent official report the road from Sui Fu to
Chaotung is described as one of the worst in the Empire, but it is good
compared with others in the north of the same province. The Chinese
have given picturesque names to some of these bad ones, such as “The
King of Hell’s Slide,” the “Gate to Hell,” the “Last Look at Home,” the
“Place where the Soul is Lost.” Describing this road on the borders of
Babuland, where the Lolos live, S. Pollard writes that from one spot he
counted no fewer than sixty towers of refuge.

[Illustration: TOWER OF REFUGE]

[Illustration: “OMI TO FU” SHRINE]

For ten days we followed the course of the Laowat’an, or Taquan River,
till at last we traced it to its source where it gushes out of a hole
from the bowels of the mountain as quite a large, brawling stream
in a sort of cul-de-sac of the hill. Its banks are frequented by the
ubiquitous wagtail, the fierce-eyed cormorant, and the most cheery
little blackbird with a white cap and black-tipped chestnut tail, which
it flirts as assiduously as the water wagtail does. In one part there
was a fine limestone crag overshadowing the river, and high up in its
ledges there are still to be seen dilapidated fragments of coffins,
said to date back as far as the time of the Ming dynasty. How they
were conveyed to such a position it is difficult to conceive. For an
hour after leaving the stream we climbed laboriously up the hillside
till we were swallowed in the mist, and at last emerged into quite a
different and much more familiar landscape, a bog moorland, on which
were scattered thatched cottages from which a pleasant smell of burning
peat greeted our nostrils. We felt as if we were suddenly transported
to Ireland. We sat down to rest by a cottage where a woman was selling
inviting-looking sweets, and she was as pleased as our men were when we
distributed them among the party. They were made of the nuts and sugar
grown in the neighbourhood. Not an hour before, we had left groups of
bamboos and tall fan palms, and the contrast of the new country was
certainly very startling. The cottagers looked poor and scantily clad,
and from this point on they seemed to be poorer and poorer looking.

[Illustration: WHA MIAO]

All the next day we gradually descended towards the city of Chaotung,
and it appeared to be a specially auspicious day for pig-killing (the
people are very particular in such matters), in preparation for their
New Year festivities. Every house almost that we passed that morning
was the scene of these preparations, and the keenest interest and
expectation was depicted on every face but our own. Our coolies would
have dearly loved to stop to watch the entertainment, but, as may be
supposed, we did not allow this.

[Illustration: MIAO WOMAN]

The prefectural town of Chaotung was reached after passing through
a dull plain, across which a piercing wind was blowing, which is
characteristic of this district. It is an interesting little place,
and is much frequented by many of the Miao (aboriginal tribes) in
their picturesque dress. The Wha Miaos (= flowery Miao) are so called
because of the colour of their dress, which is dyed blue and red by
an ingenious method of stencilling the cloth, using beeswax to make
the design. They are totally unlike the Chinese, the only point of
similarity being the wearing of the pigtail by the men; but they have a
religion and language of their own, and keep absolutely aloof from the
Chinese. The women, when married, wear their hair erected into a horn,
which sticks out from the side of the head; but as soon as they have
children the horn is erected straight up from the top. They are very
shy people, but as I was anxious to get a sketch of a woman, I got the
missionary to persuade her to sing while I made a few notes. She was
dressed in a pretty red and blue garment, with a large felt cape
over it, and wore a full short petticoat of blue and white. Both men
and women wear gaiters and loose leather boots, and the men’s sleeves
are looped up in a picturesque way as in the accompanying sketch. The
women carry their babies slung on their backs.




CHAPTER XIX

The Road to Yünnan Fu


After a couple of days’ halt we started for the capital, with new
coolies for the most part--fine, strong men--who had arranged to do
the twelve days’ stages at four taels per man, with the additional
inducement of a pork-feast on New Year’s Day. The first day we passed
through somewhat uninteresting country, but then we climbed up amongst
the mountains and reached one specially fine point of view, from which
we saw five ranges, one beyond the other, and to the west a lovely
snow range. From there we made our way down a most precipitous slope
to the bottom of a valley, where a noisy brook was spanned by one of
the fascinating iron suspension-bridges. This bridge is composed of
eight parallel thick iron chains with connecting links, and the masonry
at each end is very fine. The hand-rails were decorated with graphic
carvings of monkeys and other apocryphal beasts at each end. The little
village was eminently picturesque, and the willows were already in
their delicate spring green, contrasting well with the stiff blue-green
prickly pears. Coming down the slope, our eyes had feasted on the sight
of pink fruit blossom, and on the farther side of the stream we came
next day to dazzling white pear-trees. Certain shrubs blossom even
while snow is on the ground, and this is a favourite _motif_ both in
Chinese and in Japanese art.

[Illustration: UPLAND VILLAGE]

[Illustration: UH CHAI]

All the trees were beginning to bud, and the birds to sing and mate,
although it was only the end of January. As we neared Tungchwan Yun
we saw various new species of birds, and especially large numbers
of cranes, mainly grey, but some white, and one solitary black one
standing alone on the edge of the stream, as their habit is. The first
view of the city is picturesque, as it is seen from the high hills
overlooking the plain full of rice-fields. The city nestles under the
farther hillside and looks as if it could be reached in an hour or so,
whereas it takes at least three times as long. In a village at the
foot of the hill the preparations for the New Year were in full swing.
Every door was being cleaned for the new gods to be pasted up together
with mottoes and other decorations. Great washing was going on in a
large puddle in the middle of the village; clothes, bowls, cooking
utensils, fowls for the feast, vegetables, &c. Close by were large
flocks of wild ducks, teal, and other birds, which made one’s mouth
water to see, now that we had reached a part of the country where the
residents can rarely get anything except pork and fowls in the way of
meat. Tungchwan is quite pretty, owing both to its situation and to the
number of trees in it. Also it looked remarkably clean and bright with
its decorations, red, orange, blue, and gold, on all the doors; but
that may have been merely because it was New Year’s Eve (January 31st).
There was much less noise of crackers all night than we had expected,
and we were told that the custom of keeping New Year’s Day is much less
formally observed than it used to be. Nothing would have induced our
coolies, however, to travel that day, and all the shops were closed,
and people were walking about in their new clothes and cleanly shaven.
We went to see a Confucian temple on the outskirts of the town, which
had evidently been visited by the scholars of the place, and in which
there were little heaps of offerings, each consisting of five oranges
in front of every tablet. There were a number of courtyards and some
fine trees in them, especially some interesting specimens of the
sensitive tree.--If you scratch the trunk every twig quivers. There
are a great many insect trees throughout the whole district, in which
the white wax insect is bred. Before they come out of the trunk little
bunches of straw about the size of two fingers are tied to it, in
which the larvæ are afterwards found. We were very sorry that lack of
time prevented our making an excursion into the neighbouring district,
which is inhabited by aboriginal tribes. The Wesleyan missionaries
have been civilising some of these people, and one of their number
has successfully reduced the Miao language to writing by an ingenious
adaptation of Pitman’s shorthand system. The tribesmen are able to
read and write in a few weeks, and have taken to writing letters to
one another like ducks to water. There are many different tribes
among the mountains, some very shy and unapproachable, and with curious
customs of their own. A member of the mission described to us a curious
race that takes place in Bábú land where the Manzas live, but which
had never been visited before by European women. The course is strewn
with the feathers of fowls, and the men wear very full, short, circular
dark capes, and a sort of crest on their heads. Then they put their
ponies at full gallop, and extend their arms so that they look like
eagles with extended wings as they sweep round the course _ventre à
terre_, enveloped in a cloud of feathers and dust. Some of the tribes
are very wild; not infrequently the Lolos or Ibien, as they prefer to
be called, kidnap the Chinese and make them pay a heavy ransom, so
that little towers of refuge are built in this district. The number of
these aboriginal tribes is probably unknown to any one; we always heard
conflicting accounts of them, and until recently no systematic attempt
has been made to approach them. Hosie describes how difficult it was
even to catch a glimpse of any of them when they were close beside the
road, as they lurk in the bushes to try and see others, themselves
unseen.

[Illustration: YÜNNAN HAT]

[Illustration: LOLO WOMAN]

When we left Tungchwan the following morning we passed a temple at the
entrance of which the tutelary gods and horses, larger than life-size,
stand on either side in heavily barred halls, looking most ferocious.
The gentry of the place have recently erected a new temple to the God
of Riches, which we only saw from a distance. This has been done by
means of a lottery, and perhaps the choice of a god is due to the great
poverty of the district, where the people are always on the verge
of starvation, and where a poor harvest means utter ruin to a large
number. The result of this state of things shows itself in a repulsive
way, for infanticide is extremely prevalent. In one hamlet near which
we passed no fewer than thirty-three baby girls were thrown out
recently in a single year; though it looked such a small place that I
should not have imagined so many babies had been born in it altogether
in the time. We were told that it was by no means uncommon to see such
babies lying in the fields, and we were dreadfully exercised to know
what we should do if we found one alive. Happily, our sense of humanity
was not put to the test. We travelled through a long valley all day
under a very hot sun, and longed for thinner clothing.

Next day we climbed the greater part of the way up precipitous hills
in a cold, wet mist, longing for warmer winter clothes. Soon our
hair was white like the bushes with rime, and we were truly thankful
to be saved from the piercing wind which is usually found on these
particular heights. The coolies are extremely superstitious about this
wind, and would not dare to say anything in the way of complaint for
fear the spirits should hear, even if it blew a hurricane. They are
often obliged to turn round and wait till the fierce blasts are over;
so they told us. The ice was so thick on our hair that we had to take
it down before we could get it free from ice, and our clothes were
thoroughly wetted with it. For a couple of days the cold continued
somewhat severe; then we got into the hot sunshine again, and even with
a wind to refresh us we found travelling too hot. The hedges reminded
one more of home, and there was a flowering tree not unlike hawthorn;
also the hedges were full of cotoneaster, rose-bushes, and clematis.

[Illustration: BRIDEGROOM]

[Illustration: FUNERAL PAGODA]

The last three days of the journey to the capital are comparatively
uninteresting across the plain, but we saw a quaint wedding journey
as we left the hill country. First came four musicians, making a
noise extremely like a bad performance on the pipes. Next rode the
bridegroom, heavily adorned with scarlet and pink rosettes and sashes;
his pony also decorated with scarlet, followed by a couple of men
riding. Then came the scarlet wedding sedan-chair, sadly dilapidated
by age and neglect, conveying the bride. She was followed by a finely
dressed woman, riding, and one or two other people. Lastly came the
bride’s furniture--a very meagre supply of two chests and small boxes.
We reached her destination before she did, and found the village
awaiting her. In the street was a table spread as an altar, on which
were two vases full of wild camellias, a vase of incense, and a tray
containing three bowls of rice, one bowl of pork, with chopsticks
standing erect in it, and two small bowls of spirit. In front of the
table was a mat for prostration, and at each side of the street a bench
with a red mat over it. When the cortège arrived we were among the
onlookers, which seemed by no means acceptable to the people. After
waiting for a few minutes and exchanging greetings, the whole party
retired into the house, the bride being most carefully lifted out of
her chair in as secret a manner as possible. We were much disappointed
to see nothing of the ceremony, but Mr. Ku told us that evidently they
had no intention of doing anything whilst strangers were looking on,
so we had reluctantly to withdraw. As we heard that the wedding lasts
three days, and that the guests are expected to sit and talk and eat
each day from about 10 A.M. to 6 P.M., we comforted ourselves with the
thought that it was better to see nothing than to endure that, and
went away to our two-storied inn (the second that we have met), where
we inhabited the attic with the fowls. This inn was so costly that our
coolies had to go elsewhere, as we paid the exorbitant price of 2½d.
each for board, bed, and bedding. Needless to say, the first and last
items were of no use to us.

In one village we saw an interesting tall paper pagoda meant to be
burnt at a funeral. It was painted mainly red. Throughout the empire
it is customary to see extraordinary paper horses, servants, &c., as
part of the requisites for a rich person’s funeral. They are burnt at
the grave, and are supposed to go to the other world with the spirit of
the deceased, for his use. It is only rich people, who possess horses,
servants, &c., for whom they are provided. As white is the colour
of mourning in China, these models are made of white paper on light
bamboo frames. Not infrequently I have seen a white cock in a basket on
a coffin that is being taken to the grave, as the white cock is called
a “spiritual” or “divine” fowl and is supposed to guide the spirit
of the dead. These customs are already being superseded amongst the
educated Chinese, and they are following our European plan of having
flowers at funerals.

In the Viceroy Chang Chih-Tung’s interesting book, “China’s Only Hope,”
he arrives at a curious conclusion upon this point. He says: “Although
they [Europeans] have no such things as ancestral halls and tablets
of deceased relatives, in lieu of these they place the photographs of
their dead parents and brothers [note the absence of sisters!] on the
tables in their houses and make offerings of them. And while they make
no sacrifices at the tombs of their ancestors, they repair their graves
and plant flowers upon them as an act of worship.”

Ancestral worship is so much the most important part of religion in
China, that the foregoing account of our habits is meant to dispel an
injurious prejudice against us.

There was one compensation in leaving the mountains and crossing the
hot and dusty plain: the larks were singing as blithely as in England,
the cranes were thoroughly busy over their livelihood, and squirrels
were frisking in the trees. Villages are far more plentiful, and there
is much more traffic on the road as the capital is approached. There
are large fields of beans, and they are the sweetest-scented harvest
there is, to my thinking.

The day we reached Yünnan Fu was one long aggravation, as the head
coolie had made up his mind that we should not arrive that day,
declaring that one hundred li (about twenty-six miles) was too far. We
also had made up our minds that we _should_ arrive, so we started an
hour earlier, or, more correctly speaking, we got up an hour earlier.
For the first time our men kept us waiting, and when at last they
were ready to start they crept like snails. In vain we urged them on
and held out promises of a pork feast in the evening. They stopped
perpetually, and out of the first seven hours of the day they spent
two hours resting. Finally, they were told that if they did not go on
immediately and quickly they would forfeit the feast entirely, and then
they almost ran, saying that the city gate would be shut. We thought
that this was their usual excuse, but as we neared the walls in the
fast-closing twilight a gun sounded which filled us with misgivings.
My friend’s chair had gone in front, contrary to our usual custom, as
she was much the lighter load, and her coolies were apt to run away
with her! When she reached the gateway she was in time to see the big
gates slowly swing to, and to hear the bolt shut, after which the keys
are at once carried to the magistrate’s office. By the time we had all
arrived we found that it would be possible to have the gates reopened
by sending in a visiting-card to the magistrate along with our military
escort. The power of a visiting-card is very great in China, and we
had the satisfaction of winning the day after a great twelve hours’
tussle with our men. It would be hard to say whether an Englishman or a
Chinaman is the keener to get his own way!




CHAPTER XX

Yünnan Fu


The approach to Yünnan Fu is really lovely, and pagodas and tall
temples surmounting the walls give it an imposing air. It is much the
most important city in the province, and is following hard in the wake
of Chengtu in the matter of progress. As regards improvements, new
schools, barracks, a mint, and a railway station have sprung up within
the last few years, not to mention street lamps and foreign-looking
police, a French hospital and a French post-office. The French have
been gradually pushing their way here, but not altogether successfully.
The railway station exists, but no railway. According to the contract
it ought to have been already completed, but owing to the extreme
unhealthiness of the districts through which it passes a great many
of the engineers have either died or been incapacitated for work, so
that the railway is not likely to be completed for several years to
come. In fact, they can only work on it at certain times of the year,
in consequence of malaria. The French post-office also exists, but has
been shut by order of the authorities, and the relations between French
and Chinese authorities are decidedly strained. The presence of the
French in the city has sent up the price of everything. In fact, many
ordinary commodities are double the price they were a few years ago.

We were much disappointed to find nearly all the shops closed, owing
to its being the Chinese New Year, but we managed to find a few small
things of interest to buy. What particularly charmed us was a set of
painted scrolls. There was a whole series of different designs of
birds, some of them beautifully coloured, which we bought for the
modest sum of 10s. for the set of eight. Throughout China scrolls are
hung on the walls for decorative purposes as we use pictures, and
sometimes you find quite charming designs either hung up or painted
on the walls of unpretentious inns. When we were in the main street
standing chatting together at a short distance from our host, who
was making a bargain for us, a woman came along and eyed us up and
down attentively. She then began to speak to us, and although we did
not understand anything she said, the subject was very obvious, as
she pointed at her own waist (or rather the place where it should be
visible) and then at ours, after which she made a small circle with her
fingers and said, pointing at us, “Very pretty.” Who would have dreamt
that such a thing could have happened in China, where a visible waist
is considered so extremely improper!

We found the most amusing time to be in the streets, however, was in
the evening, when there were nightly exhibitions of Chinese lanterns,
as ingenious as they are effective. A tiny lady’s shoe made of coloured
paper, with half an egg-shell for the heel and a few drops of oil
to hold the floating wick in it, makes a charming little lantern.
Large fishes with movable heads and tails look extremely pretty, and
grotesque lions are made to promenade above the heads of passengers
with life-like palpitations. Their eyes are also made of egg-shells,
which were effectively used in many other lanterns also. Some of the
more elaborate lanterns were hung outside the shops; others were for
sale. For a few “cash” you can get little toy theatres, within which
the warmth of the candle sets in motion revolving figures whose shadows
are thrown on the front of the stage. There was an infinite variety of
lanterns exhibited, and we much regretted that they were too flimsy to
carry home; for they are all made on the lightest bamboo frames with
thin coloured paper. Later on we saw the most interesting of all the
lanterns, a large dragon which is many yards in length and of which
the sections are carried by men; but as there had been considerable
disturbances lately when this had been carried about the city, the
authorities refused to allow it for the time being. It is at the time
when people are holiday-making that they seem difficult to manage, but
their vices are not such as to make them troublesome to travellers.
Opium-smoking and gambling are certainly the worst of these vices, and
they are the curse of this place.

[Illustration: TEMPLE OF THE GOD OF LITERATURE]

Yünnan is surrounded by pretty places for excursions, so we set off one
fine morning in our chairs to visit a metal temple about five miles
distant, called “Gin Tien”--namely, “Golden Temple.” As we passed
through the sweet-scented bean-fields we saw many children enjoying
swings, a sight we had not met before in any other part of the country.
Soon we reached the foot of the hills and ascended through woods filled
with a delicious aromatic scent; but the trees were quite unfamiliar
to us, and whether it was from them or the brushwood that the scent
came we could not determine. The temple was beautifully situated on the
hillside, and the courts rose one above the other, with long flights
of steps leading from one to another. At the top of the first flight
was an archway surmounted by a temple containing a small wooden “god
of literature.” The design on the cover of “The Face of China” is the
god of literature: in one hand he holds the brush and in the other a
tablet, and he stands on one foot on a fish. Doolittle explains it
thus: “There are two stars which the Chinese profess to have discovered
to have the supervision of the affairs of this world relating to
‘literature and the pencil.’ One of these, Kue Sing, is said to be the
fifteenth star of the twenty-eighth constellation, answering to parts
of Andromeda and Pisces.”

A miscellaneous collection of gods lined the sides of the court in
open corridors, but they were much neglected and in a ruinous-looking
condition. At the top of the steps was a terrace on which was a fine
camellia tree in full bloom, and other shrubs, while chattering groups
of white-and-black starlings lent animation to the scene. Another
flight of steps led to a court in which was the fine copper temple,
painted black and gold, standing on a platform made of the celebrated
Tali marble. A metal flag and bells that tinkled in the wind hung
from an adjoining flagstaff, and another camellia tree was a sheet of
pink blossom standing in glorious contrast behind the temple close
to a gateway. This gateway led into another courtyard, where there
were rooms which could be hired by any one who wishes to spend a few
days there. Europeans often make use of these hill temples in the hot
weather, even inhabiting sometimes the same rooms as the gods, of
whom a new use is made as pegs on which to hang clothes in lieu of
wardrobes--a proceeding which in nowise shocks the Chinese worshippers.

We were by no means the only visitors to the temples. There was quite
an array of chairs waiting in the courtyards. Some of the people were
gambling, others having their midday meal, others lying on couches
smoking opium or admiring the view; but of worship there was no sign
whatever. While I sketched some women came to look on, and had a little
conversation (strictly limited, owing to my ignorance). They carried
beautiful orchids which they said they had gathered in the mountains.
In fact, Gin Tien is to Yünnan Fu what Richmond is to London.

Another interesting excursion which we made was to the Rock Temples
above the lake of Yünnan. There is a canal, about two miles long,
leading directly from the city to the lake, and our host sent to hire a
boat the day previous to our excursion. The arrangement made was that
we were to have a crew of four men, in order to convey us as rapidly
as possible to our destination; but when we got on board we found that
our four men were represented by a woman and her three boys, aged
approximately sixteen, ten, and three. We remonstrated, but it was
so comic that we could do nothing but laugh; and finally she hired a
man to come and row, paying him about twopence a day, whereas we paid
her five shillings. Arrived at the farther side, we had a steep climb
through pine woods to the temples, which are impartially Buddhist and
Taoist. They must have been hewn out of the cliffs with an immense
amount of labour and cost, for the approach to the upper ones was
through winding galleries cut in the solid rock. The gods themselves
are in shrines cut in the rock, and at the top of all is a little
temple dedicated to the “god of literature,” which was also carved out
of stone; and there were other gods carved above the entrance. From the
little platform in front of it there is a marvellous view of the lake
and plain stretched far below, where fishing-boats looked like insects,
and over which floated the shadows of the clouds.

On our way down our servant had prepared tea at a Buddhist temple,
where we sat on stools (on a platform) at a low table. At an adjoining
table there was a large family party of men and boys also having a
meal, the ladies and girls of the family taking theirs in an inner
room. We could not help admiring the charming sets of baskets in which
they had brought their provisions, and we found them very friendly
and talkative. They had many questions to ask of us, and informed
us that they were jewellers in the city, finally suggesting that we
should all go home together! We felt that this would be far too slow a
process when we saw the ladies with their tiny feet laboriously toiling
downwards, with the help of walking-sticks to steady them. So we made
our excuses and hastened back, as the sun was already getting low.

We dedicated our last day at Yünnan to shopping, for the shops were
beginning to reopen after their long inaction for the New Year. This
place was in former times a happy hunting-ground for bronzes, but
there are not many to be had now, and none of any value, while all the
prices have gone up, many of them a hundred per cent. Copper work is
the special industry of Yünnan, though all the copper is supposed to go
direct to Peking. There are two families who for many generations have
had the monopoly of making beautiful little copper boxes inlaid with
silver. The work is very fine, and some of the designs are particularly
attractive. Skin boxes are a speciality of this place, and we found it
necessary to get some in which to carry our purchases; we also added
a coolie to our party, as the loads carried here are not allowed to
exceed eighty pounds per man. If we could fly, how quickly should we
reach Bhamo!--only 360 miles through the air, instead of 967 miles by
the road, with a total ascent of 26,000 feet. This is a computation in
Hosie’s book, “Three Years in Western China,” but I think the distances
are decidedly over-estimated. When we left Yünnan Fu our party numbered
twenty-four, and our chairs looked much more dignified than on arrival.
The poles were all carefully bandaged with bright-blue cotton like a
mandarin’s chair, because of the winds, as our head coolie informed us
that otherwise the poles were apt to crack. We were told to expect high
winds all the rest of our journey through this province, for they are
prevalent at this time of year. The prospect sounded discouraging, for
the sun was hot, and we were obliged to wear large hoods, as the sun
and the wind together had nearly skinned our faces. However, like all
our previous information about the journey, the difficulties proved
much less serious than we expected. In fact, so far we had had nothing
to complain of beyond the inevitable disagreeables one encounters on
travelling away from the beaten track. As we left the city we noticed a
curious mingling of the past and present at the city gate: on the one
side a dismantled cannon made by, or under the direction of, the French
Jesuit Fathers, and stamped with the Christian symbol; on the other
side of the gate, a notice-board warning passengers to keep to the
right side of the road.

Leaving the city, we soon reached the mountains, and day by day
skirted the upper part of them; sometimes plunging down deep into the
valleys, especially for our resting-places at night. The people seem a
sturdy, solid race, but through the greater part of the province which
we have traversed, and especially round the capital, they are greatly
disfigured by goitre. Every day we see scores of people (even quite
young children) suffering from this disease. The women do a large share
of all the hard work, carrying heavy loads, despite their small feet;
the loads are fastened on by broad bands passed round the forehead,
like those of Newhaven fishwives. These bands are frequently run
through holes in a big wooden collar worn both by men and women. Some
of these collars have pretty little bits of carving on them.

On the roads we met innumerable droves of pack-animals, mostly laden
with blocks of salt. The pack-men have special inns where they put
up, which are nothing more than stables, and scores of animals can
be accommodated in them. Despite the badness of the roads and the
rough way in which they are hustled along, we have not seen a single
beast with broken knees. They are allowed to rest free from loads or
saddles at midday, and to roll in the dust at pleasure. The loads are
fastened on to a framework which fits into the saddle and so avoids the
necessity of being adjusted on the animal itself. There are regular
camping grounds for the pack-animals all along the road, and they seem
the best tempered beasts imaginable. The leaders usually wear bright
red rosettes on their heads, often with mirrors in them, and also
the Government loads have brilliant flags attached, which give them
a picturesque look. Some of them wear the long tails of the Amherst
pheasant fastened between their ears, and look as proud of themselves
as a fashionable London lady with the huge plumes now in fashion. Some
of them wear bells, which are necessary so as to herald their approach
on these narrow, winding, and precipitous highways.

[Illustration: FELLOW-TRAVELLERS]

Every day we were more enchanted with the beauty of the country and
the delights of spring. The banks are carpeted with primulas, and the
hill slopes bright with rose-coloured camellias, scarlet azalea, white
and crimson rhododendrons, yellow jessamine, clematis, begonias, and
numberless flowering shrubs, many of which we have never seen before.
This is the part of the world from which the majority of our flowering
shrubs have originally come. It would be a paradise for botanists, and
makes one long for more knowledge of many subjects, so as to be able to
enjoy the journey still more and profit by it more thoroughly.

The second day after leaving Yünnan Fu, there was an earthquake, and
it is a mystery why the front of our room did not entirely collapse.
The inns here are really superior, but on this occasion the outer wall
of our room happened to be constructed in sections at all sorts of
angles, none of them what they were meant to be, and with extensive
gaps between. It was quite impossible to shut the doors, and there was
no pretence of a fastening, so we had put up a curtain in order to
obtain a small measure of privacy. Happily, the people did not seem so
inquisitive as they used to be when I was travelling in China fifteen
years ago. In fact, we rarely see eyes peering through holes in the
paper windows. Glass windows are still unknown in the inns, except in
an occasional one in Shantung.

At Lu Feng Hsien we had an amusing experience. As we were resting after
our evening meal there was suddenly a great noise of drums, and we were
told that the dragon lantern was in the street. It turned out to be
a sort of entertainment given by a cash shop next door, and not only
was there a very bedraggled-looking dragon about twenty feet long, but
also fish lanterns and sundry fireworks. The men carrying the sections
of the dragon leapt about like demons as the shower of “golden rain”
(fireworks) was turned full upon them, and the dragon withed with
unwonted energy. The drums never ceased for a moment, so that it was
rather a relief when the show came to an end by the exhaustion of the
internal illumination of the dragon. We were stopping at an inn just
outside the city wall, and when we left the next morning we crossed a
fine suspension-bridge with an imposing archway at each end of it. The
chief magistrate of the district happened to be travelling on the same
road with us, and sent word ahead that we were to be accommodated in a
charming inn that day, having invited us to stop at his Yamen in the
city the previous night. When magistrates are travelling they always
send to engage an inn beforehand, and a little official flag is
then hung outside to show that the inn is full. Mr. Ku suggested that
we should go in for an official flag, but we feared lest complications
should arise.

[Illustration: TOMB OF A PHILOSOPHER AMONG RICE-FIELDS]

The fresh New Year mottoes put up on the doorposts of our room stated
encouragingly that “all cultured people inhabit this room,” and
“the courtyard is full of chairs and carts,” but, true to Chinese
incongruity, our coolies filled one of the rooms and the pigs occupied
the background!

Day after day new flowers and birds appear on our pathway--white
camellias, daphne, dog-roses, a flight of brilliant green parrots,
long-tailed tits, seagulls; though what they are doing out here we
cannot imagine. At one village where we spent a night the magistrate
sent word that the people were in a somewhat disturbed condition, so
he would send a special watch to guard us. We strolled out into the
fields to try and get a sketch of the large flocks of cranes feeding
in the rice and bean fields, but they seemed disturbed and would not
let us get anywhere near them, flying away screeching loudly. As we
got back to the village everything looked as peaceful as possible, and
the guard had duly arrived. They seemed to think it part of their duty
to share our room, one settling down to a comfortable smoke, the other
helping to shell the beans for our evening meal. When we thought they
had sufficiently studied us and our surroundings we invited them to go
outside, and they soon had a cheerful fire blazing in the courtyard,
where they remained all night. We got infinite amusement out of the
naïve ways of our coolies and the soldiers. A heavy storm of rain, for
instance, came on while we were halting at a village, and immediately
one of my carriers came and sat upon the ground beside my chair in
order to share the benefit of my umbrella. He had not the slightest
idea, of course, that I might not wish for his close neighbourhood, for
fear of participating in more than the shelter of an umbrella.

One thing seems strange as one travels day by day from one end of this
great empire to the other, and that is the utter absence of any landed
gentry; never a country seat or any house larger than a farmer’s, and
never a garden of any kind for the cultivation of flowers except within
the cities; cottage gardens are unknown here. Pots in a courtyard show
a certain love of flowers, and the poorest coolie will stop to gather a
handful of camellias to decorate his load, or a flower to stick behind
his ear. Rich people all love to live in big towns, where they are
close to their associates.

One day the head coolie came in with our suit-cases in a state of great
agitation, dragging with him a frightened-looking creature whose horse
he said had pushed the luggage into the stream. To our dismay, the
luggage was dripping with water, and the culprit had been hauled along
to see the extent of the damage. Our usual good luck, however, had
followed us; though a new silk dressing-gown was soaked with mud and
water, my sketches (next to it) had only mud traces on their backs, and
nothing else was hurt. The man said he was very sorry, and evidently
expected we should charge damages. He protested that he was only a poor
farmer and had no means of payment. No doubt the head coolie, who is
responsible for any loss and is bound to make good any breakage caused
by the carelessness of the carriers, would have extorted damages from
him, but as we did not, he told him to kotow; our servants sternly
repeated the command, and an interested crowd of spectators watching
the show added their injunctions, so that when the man grovelled in the
dust and knocked his forehead on the ground, we were sorely tempted to
laugh. The tragi-comic effect was irresistibly funny. It was necessary,
however, to impress our men with the heinousness of the offence, lest
our curios should come into greater danger. A diversion was caused by
the entrance of several coolies begging me to look at their sprains,
gatherings, &c., so we dismissed the poor farmer and set to work with
our out-patient department. At this stage of the journey the coolies
were very apt to give out a little, as the strain began to tell upon
them. The weather grew warmer daily, and the crops seemed almost to
grow visibly before our eyes. Fields of mustard in the plains were
dazzlingly yellow and sweet-scented, and the poppies and wild roses
were coming into bloom. We were struck with the beauty of various kinds
of wild vines and the enormous leaves of _Senecio wilsonianus_. There
are a great many varieties of these vines and of the roses, and on
the eastern side of Yünnan we found particularly sweet-scented white
banksia roses. Mr. Wilson, who spent a considerable time in studying
the flora of China, discovered no fewer than 2000 new varieties
of plants, and Messrs. Veitch of Chelsea have a most interesting
collection of the plants which he brought back. The fact that he was
able to bring back over 5000 specimens seems almost incredible to any
one who knows the difficulties of transport. But perhaps the most
striking of all the flowers that we met growing profusely in this
region was the _Jasminum primulinum_, a large, brilliant jasmine of
which there were the most magnificent hedges. If only we could have
stayed a little longer we should have been able to see far more of the
shrubs in blossom, as everywhere we noticed they were full of promise.

[Illustration: VILLAGE SCREEN WALL]

[Illustration: CARRYING CHAIR]

The architecture is more ornate in this district than in the centre of
China, many of the houses in the villages being elaborately decorated,
and having beautiful wooden carved screens and balustrades in front
of them. Some of the shops had most knowing little beasts carved at
the end of the counter, and the signboards, which were formed into
Chinese lanterns, were extremely picturesque. At the entrance of one of
the villages there was the most grotesque design on the large screen
which is frequently to be seen facing the entrance gate of villages.
This particular one had a gigantic creature (a cross between a cat
and a toad) hanging on to a fleeing mouse, whose hind leg had been
stretched out to an abnormal length in its endeavour to escape. Every
village of any size has such a screen (called in Chinese, “shelter”),
standing about fifteen feet high and twenty-five feet in length.
Some of the designs on them are really artistic, but as a rule their
best quality is the spirited action of the various beasts which are
represented, of which the one I have sketched (from memory) is a good
example. The chair below it shows what we travelled in for some 1200
miles; the most comfortable way of seeing the country that can be
imagined. Under the seat we carried all our small impedimenta, while
the coolies made use of the back for theirs.




CHAPTER XXI

Tali Fu


The first glimpse of the Tali lake with snow-capped mountains running
along its western bank is very beautiful. It is a typical Chinese
landscape, namely, a “mountain and water picture”; but at this time of
year (the beginning of March) the winds are so high that the distant
range of snow mountains to the north is invisible, and during the five
days that we spent in the neighbourhood we did not once catch a glimpse
of them. At the south of the lake is a large and important village,
Siakwan, much more important in some respects than the prefectural town
of Tali Fu itself, as it lies on the high-road from Yünnan Fu to Teng
Yueh. All the trade caravans pass directly through Siakwan without
branching off to Tali. At the markets, which are frequently held, there
may be seen various aboriginal tribes such as the Miaos, the Lolos,
the Ming Chiaos, and the Shans. The place is noted for being one of
the windiest spots to be found anywhere, and we found it unpleasant
both coming and going to Tali. At Tali the wind was most riotous at
nights, and came in great gusts, dismantling the walls of our rooms
and covering my bed with a little shower of photographs and texts,
and nearly blowing us out of bed. The lake is always dangerous on
account of these winds, and when we visited the shore, about an hour’s
walk from the city, there were only a few little fishing-boats to be
seen close inland. The villages along it are mainly inhabited by Ming
Chiaos, who speak a language of their own. It is but few comparatively
of these villagers who can speak or even understand Chinese, and those
who learn it do so for the sake of trading in the city. The women and
girls wear their hair dressed rather differently from the Chinese, and
have a different type of face. Also, they do not bind their feet, nor
wear such elegant shoes. They seemed quite friendly, but were rather
too inquisitive, which prevented our enjoying our picnic as much as we
should have done.

[Illustration: TALI FU]

I made a sketch of a little bridge with a picturesque archway in
the shape of a tower leading on to it, behind which may be seen the
mountains towering up to a great height. These mountains are very
little known, and a European who went up to visit a temple some hours
distant got lost, and was three days before he was able to find his way
back; when he returned he was quite exhausted for lack of food, and his
clothes were almost torn to pieces by the bushes through which he had
been obliged to force his way. There are very few inhabitants amongst
these mountains, and they are of a fierce and uncertain character.

The Tali Fu women were the most pleasant and responsive we met in the
province, and some looked decidedly intelligent. They did beautiful
embroidery of various kinds, and we were glad of the opportunity to
order straw hats from them with which to protect ourselves from the
sun. We were _not_ glad, however, to see them being brought home on
the heads of the woman and child; though this seems to be considered
quite the correct thing in China. There was no alternative between
having these particular hats or going without any, which was too risky.
We are quite convinced that the wearing of a “bandeau” inside the hat
must have originated in China, where the use of it is universal from
the lowest to the highest. The poorest coolie has a basket bandeau
in the huge, pancake-like straw hat which shelters him equally from
sun or rain. The size of these hats is two feet in diameter, and the
bandeaux raise them so high above the head that the effect is extremely
comic, and they have to be held on by an elaborate system of strings
at the sides and back, sometimes ornamented by the gayest of tassels,
and with bright-green strings tied under the chin. The favourite
colour of a bandeau is magenta, and the material of which it is made
is satin. The portrait of myself at the beginning of this volume shows
our complete travelling costume, together with the Buddhist pilgrim
stick and the horn spectacles which were formerly a distinctive mark
of the “scholar.” On returning home we found the hats were hardly an
exaggeration of the size worn in London. Liu had procured himself a
different variety of straw hat (see page 211) and a bright-green
waterproof cover for it.

Few foreign ladies visit Tali Fu, so our arrival created a mild
excitement in the place. An official lady (the highest but one in the
city) took the opportunity of paying a call on the missionary nurse who
was our hostess. She had assisted at the operation performed by the
doctor on the lady’s daughter, who was suffering from a disfigurement
of the face. The lady called at the moment lunch had been served,
so of course it had to be indefinitely postponed (the Chinese calls
not unfrequently last for several hours). She was gorgeously attired
in a heliotrope skirt embroidered with magenta and green, which had
come from Chengtu, and a fur-lined plum-coloured coat. She wore gold
pins galore in her hair, and a large amber bead; gold tooth-picks and
ear-picks hung from a button, and she used these with French _aplomb_.
Our clothes were examined with much minuteness; she even pinched my
toe to see if it could really extend to the full length of my shoe,
so I took it off to satisfy her on the subject. Perhaps it was this
that encouraged her to begin to undress my friend down the back in
order to see how her clothes were put on; but the unfastening of the
blouse and camisole still left it a mystery how the skirt could be
made to encompass so small a waist--a problem which I fear will never
be solved, for Chinese skirts are completely open down one side and
are merely folded round the person. On the opposite side they also are
open up to the waistband, though this does not show, owing to the
upper part of the dress hanging over it. We spent some time drinking
tea, and the lady talked impartially with her hostess and her hostess’s
servants, her own remaining in the room all the time and also drinking
tea. Our ages had to be discussed, and as it appeared that mine almost
coincided with her own, I learnt the interesting fact that I was born
in the cycle of the dog. Owing to my fair hair I have always been
considered by the Chinese to be well over eighty years of age, both now
and on my previous visit. This is an extremely useful illusion, as it
renders me worthy of great reverence, and made it much more proper for
me to be travelling about and sitting by the high-road sketching.

The call still dragged on, and we next discussed the price of our
clothes and the places we had visited, why we were unmarried, and
many other topics of equal interest. After about an hour of this
conversation the caller expressed a wish to see the bedrooms, and
having to pass through the dining-room in order to get there, she
perceived with surprise that the table was laid for a meal. The white
table-cloth was a new object to her, and one of deep interest. She
begged to be allowed to watch us eat, so of course she was invited
to join the belated meal. While this was being brought in she went
upstairs, and having inspected everything carefully, she tried the bed
(poor hostess!), and asked for some “flea medicine,” _alias_ Keating.

We sat down to lunch, and the lady sent her servant to bring from her
sedan-chair a beautifully coloured silk serviette, which she fastened
to a button at the neck of her coat with a gold clasp. She got on very
well with a fork instead of chopsticks, but found the combined use of
knife and fork as difficult as we did that of chopsticks. According
to Chinese etiquette, all the company use their own implements to
help themselves, and the dish was conveniently near to the lady! When
she had no further use for the chicken bones she handed them over her
shoulder to the maid, to be thrown into the courtyard; the more natural
course, which would have been adopted had she been at home, would have
been to put them under the table. Carpets are not in use even in the
houses of the wealthy, except on special occasions such as the New
Year, so that the floors are treated in the same way as the ground
out of doors! Any “plat” which was not to the lady’s liking was also
handed to the maid to eat, and it struck us as quite a new use for
servants. When the table boy was not otherwise employed, she questioned
him minutely as to household arrangements, the buying of food, &c.,
as if his mistress were not present, and the information she received
seemed to interest her vastly. She continually pressed us to eat, and
did full justice to the meal herself, ladling the gravy out of the
dish at intervals with her own spoon, despite the fact that she was on
her way to a feast. I presented her with a piece of English ribbon and
explained its use, which happily coincided with what she had already
heard of English dress; but I was disappointed that she did not follow
the Chinese custom of presenting me with something in return. My
curiosity to see what her gift would be was justly punished. Finally
she left, seemingly well pleased with her visit, which would not have
been considered at all a long one in “the middle kingdom,” although we
had found it somewhat exhausting.




CHAPTER XXII

Tali Fu to Teng Yueh


We left Tali Fu on a stormy-looking morning, accompanied by the usual
windy gusts, and after about a couple of miles we reached the famous
temple of the goddess of mercy, the Buddhist Kwanyin. Our coolies went
in to offer incense and to invoke the goddess, as they did on their
arrival at Tali Fu; for she is a great favourite with the coolie class.
There is a beautiful little shrine perched on a big rock in a sort of
small tank, which the goddess (under the guise of an old woman) is
supposed to have brought here. In the courtyard beyond is a Buddhist
temple, and in one of the side courts a temple to a famous general,
containing a statue of him much more life-like than any we have yet
seen. The head coolie took this opportunity of consulting the goddess
as to his mother’s welfare--he has not seen her for over ten years--but
the answer was both unsatisfactory and vague! Our head coolie is a
quaint individual, but decidedly attractive. When we gave him a tael
for a pork-feast for the men he kept back part of it, and they were
extremely angry. In order to appease them, he not only had to pay up,
but also to give them a pork-feast on his own account. He wears a most
beautiful jade bangle, and is always immaculately clean to look at,
however dust-stained the rest of us may be. Some Chinamen have that
delightful quality of always looking clean and keeping tidy.

When we were ready to start again the rain came down in torrents, so
the men put on their hats and every one demurred to going on. There was
no time to waste, however, so we insisted on setting out, and after a
time the rain stopped and the wind soon dried our wet clothes. Turning
down the valley after passing through Siakwan, we entered the defile
through a heavy gateway, which is part of the fortifications, through
which the wind tore like a hurricane, snatching off the black scarf I
had wound round my hair in Chinese fashion, for it was impossible to
keep on our gigantic hats. We made our way through an impressive gorge,
following the river till we came to our halting-place at night. We had
learnt at Tali that the official rest-houses are open to travellers
when not occupied by officials, so we sent on to engage rooms in one,
and certainly gained both in quality and quantity, as we occupied
a sort of large barn with pillars in it, which looked as if it had
formerly been used as a stable. The next night we were not so lucky,
and had the most riotous party of rats in the loft above us that I
have ever encountered. Their revels brought down no inconsiderable
portion of the ceiling on our heads, and finally the rats themselves
came down in a sort of stampede upon us, showing no respect whatever
for the British face or form. The early dawn was further made hideous
by a chorus of geese, pigs, fowls, and mules, a horrid discord from
which we hurried away into the lovely dew-drenched country. Crossing
a suspension-bridge, we began a long, steep climb through the pine
woods, and the miseries undergone were soon forgotten in the ever fresh
beauties of the day. The long range of snow-capped mountains lay behind
us, and for three hours we mounted higher and higher, coming to large
trees of brilliant crimson rhododendrons, and various kinds of roses
climbing high up amongst them.

[Illustration: SUSPENSION BRIDGE]

As we sat in the shade near our coolies, taking a little rest, a
stranger coolie came and sat down in his hat beside us, to the great
indignation of one of our men, who promptly administered a kick in the
rear. He returned the kick as soon as our man turned his back, but
otherwise quite acquiesced in his dislodgment. A much dirtier man of
our own then came and occupied the seat, perhaps in order to prevent
any other intruder from doing so. The journey from Tali to Bhamo was
one, if possible, of more beauty than any former day’s travel of this
beautiful tour. The hedges were ablaze with blossom, and the _Pyrus
japonica_ was wonderful. The size and colour of the blossom astonished
us, and also the size of the plant, which is more like a tree than a
shrub. The air was sweet with jasmine and orange blossom and other
shrubs of which we did not know the names. The ascents and descents
grew longer and more precipitous. We saw a new variety of bridge of
great interest, entirely composed of creeper. The bridge was like
a hammock, but fully a hundred feet long, and very loosely woven
together; the only part of it not made of creeper was a narrow plank
along the centre for walking on, and the upright poles at each end.
There was a creeper hand-rail, but it would have been of very little
use to hold on to it, as it was only attached at the ends.

The seventh day after leaving Tali Fu, we crossed the Mekong, a
most picturesque river sunk in a narrow gorge and spanned by a fine
suspension-bridge. As I sat and sketched it in the early morning the
air was fragrant with wild orange blossom and jessamine, and handsome
plants of orange-coloured abutilon reared themselves by the roadside.
My sketching of the suspension-bridges might naturally strike the eye
of the engineer as incorrect, owing to the slightness of the curve; but
the fact is that they are tightened up after construction with very
great labour, by means of windlasses, till they are (comparatively
speaking) horizontal. On the board above the entrance of the bridge was
inscribed, “Built by the god.”

[Illustration: BRIDGE MADE OF CREEPERS]

The mountains are part of the great Himalayan range, and the spurs run
almost directly from north to south, so that our road from east to west
was always up and down. On reaching our halting-place for the night we
found all the inns occupied, except one where there was a room but no
beds. After much altercation, they agreed at one of the inns to turn
out some of the coolies and to give us their room; but on inspection
the look of it was so unalluring that I went to see what the bedless
room was like, and found a large barn over a stable, which contained
nothing but a family altar and some fodder. This seemed infinitely
preferable to us, especially as it had two large windows looking on to
the mountains. We spread our oilcloth on the floor and our mattresses
on it, and passed a far more comfortable night than many that we had
had, being undisturbed by cats or rats. Only a night or two before, a
cat had raided our larder, which we thought we had made quite secure,
overturning the pan, getting the lid off, and departing with our
tender young chicken, of which one leg only was left in the pan. We
always had to be very careful in packing up all food before going to
bed, but that mattered little, as we took none in the morning before
starting. Indeed, we found we required much less food on this journey
than elsewhere, and two light meals a day were amply sufficient for our
needs. At midday we always lunched al fresco, being set down outside
the village where the men were to get their meal.

The next day after the theft we were unable to get a chicken of any
sort, and the following day we had to put up with a prehistoric beast.
In fact, our hands became horny from wrestling with tough fowls.
Sometimes unexpected dainties turned up, and certainly we had a novel
surprise on arriving at the town of Yung Chang Fu. While sitting at
supper, a visiting-card was brought in from the magistrate, with a
tray containing two fine ducks, two tins of sardines, and a bottle
of House of Commons whisky; two lively fowls also were deposited on
the floor. We sent our thanks to the magistrate for his kindness, and
accepted the fowls, but returned the remainder of his gift according
to custom. Our servant had vainly been trying to get a chicken for us,
so the gift was most opportune, and we should have liked to thank the
polite magistrate in person.

After dinner we sent for the head coolie, as this was one of the places
where we paid the wages, and were amused to see him secrete thirty-six
ounces of silver up his sleeve as if it were nothing. The total cost
of hire for eighteen coolies from Yünnan to Bhamo, a journey which
occupied thirty-three travelling days, was a little under £34.

For the first and last time in the whole of our six months’ journey,
we met a European on the road, and he kindly gave us permission not
only to stay at his house at Teng Yueh, but gave us the keys of his
store-room; having heard previously of our coming, he had given
instructions to the caretaker to be on the look-out for us. In any
case, we should not have been likely to miss him on the high-road,
except at a spot where they have made a new road to shorten the
distance, and where Liu took the opposite road from the one we did when
he went ahead to get rooms.

Three days after we had crossed the Mekong, we had a stiffer climb down
to the Salween, which is 2300 feet above sea-level. It has a shocking
reputation for malaria, but at this season there was nothing to fear.
However, I offered a dose of quinine to whoever wished to have it,
and every one eagerly applied. The only member of the party who was
unable to take quinine tried what is frequently found to be a good
alternative, cinnamon. The Salween has a two-span bridge, connected in
the centre by a fine block of masonry. The village close by seems to be
inhabited by Shans, and the coolies took a long rest before beginning
the toilsome ascent. We climbed up for about two hours, and were
thankful for a night’s rest before climbing the remaining three. We
had sent one of our escort ahead in good time to secure the only inn,
which was of primitive construction, and of which, as not infrequently
happens, the partitions were so flimsy as to allow of a fairly good
view from one room into another.

The scenery next day was particularly fine, and from this point the
vegetation became semi-tropical. The monkeys barked and chattered, but
kept out of sight, and we spent a long day in climbing down from the
eight-thousand-foot elevation to which we had climbed so laboriously
on the previous evening. The following day we reached Teng Yueh in
a tearing wind. In fact, we have found the wind the most fatiguing
element in our travels.

Teng Yueh (or Momein, as it was formerly called) boasts an English
consulate, and we were kindly entertained there by the Consul’s
arrangement, although he himself was absent. His delightful Chinese
major-domo received us with his best English welcome, and delighted us
by at once asking “Missee want hot bath?” “Other Missee want hot bath?”
and promptly went to get them ready. He proved to be the most attentive
of servants, and told us we were to ask for whatever we wanted.
Naturally, the first requisite seemed a washerwoman, and he promised to
send “catchee female,” and the next morning he introduced an elegant
native laden with jewelry. To a further request that he would procure a
small piece of mutton for us to take on our journey, he said, “No can
catchee mutton, but goat very good.”

The neighbourhood of Teng Yueh is picturesque, surrounded by mountains,
and the town itself is more open and clean than most. The people have
pleasant manners and are friendly to the foreigner. There is a new
Custom House and post-office, and houses for the European staff, which
are not yet all completed. These stand out conspicuously, surrounded
by their walls, and we saw them many miles away as we descended from
the mountains. We felt that this was our last chance of getting
Chinese things, so we spent the afternoon shopping, but were not
altogether successful. The jade for which the place is celebrated we
found more expensive than we had expected, and there did not seem much
choice. The threatening look of the sky made us procure waterproof
hat-covers at one penny apiece, and they proved quite efficacious in
dispersing the clouds. There were pine-apples, bananas, tomatoes,
and various vegetables in the market; and we also succeeded in buying
postage-stamps, of which we had found the post-office of Tali Fu
practically empty. We had some difficulty, in fact, in getting them at
most of the post-offices in the province of Yünnan.

[Illustration: SHAN WOMAN]

And now we started on our last Chinese journey, after one day’s rest,
feeling each day more regretful at the thought that it would so soon
be ended. The days grew hotter and the wind stronger, and the road
not nearly so beautiful, and the inns decidedly worse, yet still we
looked back with wistful eyes to the “Flowery Land” (so justly named)
we had passed through. The country seemed mainly inhabited by Shans, a
fine, well-built race, very clean-looking, and the women picturesquely
dressed. Most of them were entirely dressed in black, with large silver
ornaments, and they looked very attractive with jaunty bunches of
jasmine stuck in their tall black turbans. Their villages looked quite
different from the Chinese villages. The inns look miserable, but are
less abject than they appear; and when, to my surprise, in the dim
light I saw through the airy bamboo screen (which formed the wall) a
portly pig arise from my side, I thought how often one had passed much
less comfortable nights in pleasanter surroundings! I think the pig
must have taken up her residence there when I was asleep.

From Teng Yueh to Bhamo the route lies all the way along the river-side
of the Taping, and the first part of it is most tiresome, as it is
constantly in the shingly bed of the river itself, where the heat of
the sun is reflected from the stones. Our coolies’ clothing grew daily
less, and even the chilly creature who wore an eighteenpenny skin coat
discarded it. In fact, the coolies began to look like the conventional
pictures of John the Baptist with one bare arm exposed to view. One of
our attentive boys always presented us with our hats when he thought it
time to put them on in the morning on account of the heat. We tied them
very securely to our chairs ever since one of the coolies thought fit
to carry my friend’s hat on his own head.

There was an amusing theatrical performance of an elementary kind held
close to our inn in a small village. It was a sort of votive offering
as a thanksgiving for the recovery of a sick person. The stage was in
the middle of the road. It consisted in a table and a small bench in
front of it, on which stood the principal figure, representing the
Emperor. He recited a good deal under the large flowing beard which
covered his mouth, and which he occasionally pretended to pull. As
it was attached with string round his ear, a slight tweak would have
detached it. Before him stood three gaudily dressed figures, who made
a few dance steps at intervals, and turned round; they also recited
now and then. Their main occupation, however, seemed to be fanning
themselves and expectorating. When they got tired they withdrew behind
the table for tea, and the Emperor twitched off his beard and imperial
clothes in the twinkling of an eye, with an air of infinite relief. The
clothes were thrown into a large basket which seemed to contain all the
stage properties. The spectators were really the most interesting part
of the show, as several of the women had evidently got on their best
clothes, and fine silver ornaments all over their high turbans, and
massive necklaces and bangles. We were beginning at last to get away
from the prevalent plague of goitre, and it was a relief to see clean,
healthy people again.




CHAPTER XXIII

From China into Burma


Gradually the scenery changed as we approached British territory,
and then, quite suddenly, the vegetation became tropical within a
day’s march of the frontier. The trees are much more lofty, and rise
as straight as darts up into the blue. Often they are strangled by
the huge creepers which wind round and round them, and seem to draw
their life-blood from the trees which they kill, becoming almost as
large in the trunk, and with great bloated leaves concealing their
victims. Long feelers hang down from the tree-tops, and orchids and
ferns grow profusely, high up among the branches. Everything possesses
a brilliancy and size and vitality which has in it something fearful;
indeed, it is as if it were an evil power brooding over everything
and crushing weaker things in a relentless grasp. The spider-webs are
like gauze handkerchiefs spread over the banks, in the centre of which
are gaping doorways, where you see the monster spider sprawling with
an insolent, will-you-walk-into-my-parlour air. The monkeys chatter
and jabber unseen; some of them--the “gibbons”--are of a large size.
Parrots scream, and modest-plumaged familiar birds are replaced by
brilliant ones with shrill, unsympathetic voices. We met, too, various
tribes-people, such as Shans and Kachins.

Our spirits fell somewhat, too, at the thought of leaving China, of
parting from our pleasant company, and ending the most delightful tour
we had ever had. The last night we spent at a “head man’s” house, but
his Excellency was away from home. We had a pleasant upstairs room
overlooking a large courtyard filled with pack-animals, whose driver
slept with them in the open, according to custom, despite a terrific
thunderstorm in the middle of the night. There was no door to our room,
but we hung up a curtain, and a soldier slept just outside. Mr. Ku and
Liu slept one on each side of the family altar downstairs. We started
next morning at the usual hour, and after some miles our military
escort took leave of us, at the edge of the stream which divides the
two greatest empires in the world. A rude trunk acted as bridge, and
we saw Liu timorously hesitating on the edge, till one of the coolies
took pity on him and came and handed him across. As this was the first
time that our men had been on British soil (with the exception of two
of them), we felt we ought to do something to celebrate the event,
and I was very anxious that they should look their best when we came
to the British outpost. It was in vain, however, that I had offered
to have them all shaved and coiffed, as I found it would practically
take a day to get it done; and also there was a difficulty in even
procuring a barber in any of the adjoining villages. It is astounding
the difference the shaving makes in their appearance, as the larger
part of the head is kept shaved. We had to give up the hope of making
a brave show, but this did not signify so much when we found that
there was no British outpost. In fact, the only thing that marked the
difference of territory was that now we came on to a splendid road and
found excellent bridges. We promised the men “tooth-worship” (namely,
pork-feast) that evening, but there was nothing very attractive to be
obtained when we got to the extremely imperfect inn where we halted
for the night. It was a bamboo erection, rather like cellular clothing
in its porousness, and, as usual, our room lay in the centre. The
place was conspicuously large, airy, and clean, but it required all
our luggage and the curtains to make any sort of screen. After supper
we set out all our empty tins and bottles, as there is nothing which
coolies esteem more. They had been begging us all the time to give
them our biscuit-tins, which were the greatest prizes, though jam-and
butter-tins were useful for cooking purposes. The biscuit-tins had been
promised to those who were thought most deserving. When they put them
in our chairs for us, they would tap them and give us a wink, as much
as to say, “This is going to be mine some day,” or shake them to see
if they were nearly empty. By this time we had got a thoroughly large
selection, and had an amusing time in distributing them. The men also
petitioned for quinine to take with them for recrossing the Salween;
each man received two doses, to his great satisfaction.

The last morning dawned; for the last time we heard the familiar
awakening cry, “Arise, wash your faces, eat your rice,” and we
reluctantly made our way along the beautiful road through the forest,
a road such as the coolies had never seen before. We had ordered a
_gharri_ (= carriage) to meet us ten miles from the town, as it was
too long for a one day’s stage, now that the hot weather had set in;
so we arranged for the men and coolies to follow us to Bhamo the
next day with our chairs and luggage. We halted at the Dak Bungalow,
where we were met by one of our friends from Bhamo, and after tea we
transferred our requisites to the _gharri_ and set out for Bhamo. As we
rattled along in the noisy and uncomfortable vehicle we longed for our
comfortable chairs, but were soon pulled up short by the harness giving
way. A piece of cloth proved ineffectual to hold it together for more
than about half a mile. I then provided a piece of string which proved
more efficacious, but only a few minutes later there was a hopeless
crash as the axle split in two between the front wheels. We had to sit
down ignominiously by the roadside for at least an hour, while the man
rode off on the horse to get another carriage. Oh, to be back in China,
where we found things so slow and steady!

Next morning our men arrived with the luggage, and after settling
accounts with them and presenting them with the two sedan-chairs and
our carrying-poles, we regretfully bade them good-bye. I think the
desire was exceedingly strong on both sides that we should meet again
and have just such another journey. With many journeys it requires the
mellowing distance of time to forget the disagreeables, but we had but
one thought in looking back, and that was one of entire satisfaction.




CHAPTER XXIV

The Present Situation in China


Since the preceding chapters were written great changes have taken
place in the Chinese Empire, and a new reign has begun. The sudden,
simultaneous death of the Emperor and the Dowager Empress at first
caused a feeling of general consternation; but it soon became evident
that the reins of government had passed into strong and capable hands.
The Regent has already shown that he intends to pursue the policy of
his predecessor, both with regard to external and internal matters, and
reform is the order of the day.

In the concluding pages of this volume I venture to give a brief
summary of the special points under consideration at the present time,
which foreshadow the changes to be expected in the near future. It
is impossible for any one, no matter how intimately acquainted with
Chinese affairs, to foretell what will be the outcome of the great
constitutional change which is contemplated; but it is of importance
that the European public should understand the conditions under which
it takes place. It would be presumption on my part to do anything more
than call attention to the problems and the difficulties which beset
the path of the reformer.

At the present time the government of China is an absolute monarchy,
and as the new Emperor is but four years old, the supreme power is
vested in a Regent, his father, Prince Chun: he was really appointed
by the late Dowager Empress, though nominally by the Emperor. The
Regent is assisted by a Grand Council, composed of five leading State
officials, and contains some of the ablest statesmen in the Empire.
There are, moreover, several boards for the control and management of
various State departments, such as the Wai wupu, the Board for Foreign
Affairs (formerly called the Tsung Li Yamen); the Lung-kung-shangpu,
the Board of Agriculture, Industry, and Commerce; the Tuchihpu, the
Board of Finance; the Boards of Education, of Justice, of War, of Naval
Affairs, &c.; but all these boards are under the absolute control of
the Regent. He has the supreme authority, and can depose, banish,
or execute at will, and without any form of trial, any official of
whatsoever rank, as was seen in the recent case of H.E. Yuan Shih Kai,
one of the ablest Chinese statesmen and one of the leading figures
in educational reform. The Regent appoints all officials on these
several boards, all viceroys and governors of provinces, and all
envoys to foreign countries. Since the troubles of 1900 there has been
a growing desire for constitutional reform, and a few years ago H.E.
Tuan Fang, Viceroy of the Liangkiang, was despatched on a mission of
investigation to several large European countries, to America, and to
Japan. I cannot do better than quote his own words as to the result
of his mission. They form part of a preface written by him (as an
introduction) to Green’s “Short History of the English People,” which
has recently been translated into Chinese. “In the various civilised
countries my object was to select and compare their constitutions.
Arriving in London, I saw the excellent order of the constitution in
ruler and people. In Japan’s reformation she got much from England;
much more will our country by-and-by take England for her model....
Excellent is the word of Dr. Macklin [the translator], ‘If you desire
to establish a constitution you must follow England. To follow England
you must read English history.’”

The determination has been arrived at to have a representative
assembly; other envoys have been sent to Europe to obtain fuller
information about constitutional methods, and measures are being
taken to prepare the Chinese people for the momentous change. The
development of local government is an important step in this direction,
and the Regent has strongly commended the successful work done in the
Liangkiang provinces, urging others to follow the good example of
H. E. Tuan Fang. The elective body will be a very limited one: it will
consist of (i) all holders of literary degrees (students only holding
degrees granted by Christian colleges are debarred from voting); (ii)
all holders of property to the amount of 5000 taels (about £750).
Those eligible for the vote are further restricted by the prohibition
against opium-smokers, Buddhist monks, &c. The date is not yet fixed
for the summoning of the first assembly, but it is proposed that it
should take place in the fourth year of the present reign.

The salient characteristic of the present Government is the divorce
of the executive from the legislative faculty. Edicts are issued
incessantly, but very little is done to give practical effect to
the majority of them. Official corruption is almost universal, and
the difficulties of combating it are so great that many good men
are deterred from entering official life because they feel the
impossibility of putting a stop to bribery in their own Yamens. Up
to the present time bribery has been legitimatised and nothing done
to check it, except in flagrant cases; now there is to be a serious
attempt made to put it down, and the fact is recognised that it is a
public wrong, as may be seen from the edict quoted on page 129.

While the general public in China does not show much interest in the
question of representative government, nor indeed understand anything
about it, there is a growing interest taken in the question of social
reforms. One of the most pressing ones is that of prison reform. The
extra-territoriality agreement is a source of constant irritation to
the Chinese, although they are forced to admit the necessity for it,
so long as the administration, the prisons, and the laws are in such
an unsatisfactory condition. Commissioners have been appointed to
thoroughly investigate the whole question and to study European prison
methods, while newspaper intelligence informs us that a gallows has
been imported from Great Britain! New prisons are being erected in many
places, but that is the least important change which humanity demands.

Of more importance than prison reform is the opium question. Since the
conference at Shanghai in the early part of this year more strenuous
efforts are being made to combat the evil, and real progress is
reported from those parts of the Empire where officials are loyally and
enthusiastically enforcing the imperial decrees. In a report of H.E.
Tuan Fang it is stated that during the three years which have elapsed
since the anti-opium campaign was started 60 per cent. of the smokers
have given up the habit. The mowage of the poppy-planted ground and the
number of opium shops have been decreased more than 50 per cent.

From the province of Yünnan, where we saw much poppy cultivation, news
comes that the traveller sees practically none; from Szechwan and
Shansi similar reports state that other crops have entirely replaced
the poppy except in isolated districts. Opium dens are being closed,
and fines and other punishments are imposed on growers and sellers of
the drug. In addition to the severe penalties already in force, yet
worse are to follow in case opium-smoking is not abandoned within the
prescribed time limit. From the current year--according to a recent
edict--to the fifth year of Hsuan Tung the maximum penalty for
officials smoking opium is _strangulation_; in the sixth year this
penalty is to be extended to the gentry, and in the seventh to the
common people. There is no doubt but that China is in real earnest in
her determination to root out what she considers the worst evil in
her national life, and it will be a disgrace to the British Empire
if we let selfish considerations prevent our loyal co-operation with
her. What is to be said of such double-dealing as is shown in the
fact that the British Government has agreed to reduce the import of
opium from India, and to let it entirely cease by 1917, provided the
Chinese Government shows her sincerity in putting down the traffic,
while at the same time the very efforts made by the Chinese officials
are checkmated by the protests of his Majesty’s Government? This has
actually stopped the splendid work of H.E. Tuan Fang in the Kiangsu
province during the last two years. “His action was suspended on the
protest of his Majesty’s Government that it came in conflict with
treaty provisions. The whole scheme is now in abeyance,” &c.[9]

Other difficulties which China has to face in dealing with the opium
question are set forth in an imperial decree of March 15, 1909:--

“Opium suppression is a necessary measure to the strengthening
of our Empire, as well as the main-spring of the development and
instruction of the people, involving, as it does, questions of hygiene,
of enriching the people, of developing terrestrial profits, and of
arresting a drain on the national wealth. All eyes are turned to this
subject, and much universal sympathy and assistance have been exhibited.

“On the question, three steps are closely interrelated and dependent,
and these are: prohibition of smoking and of plantation, and devising
of means to raise revenue to fill the deficit caused in the opium
duties. Should any one of these be inefficiently carried out, the other
two will in consequence be hampered, and success would be looked for in
vain.

“In recent years, though officials addicted to the smoking habit have
been examined and denounced on repeated occasions by the Anti-Opium
Commissioners and Viceroys and Governors of the provinces, there still
exists a number of them who trifle with the interdict and veneer their
faults in that respect.

“With regard to the prohibition of the poppy plantation in the
provinces, it was first decided to decrease the plantation gradually in
ten years. Later, the authorities of Yünnan, Szechwan, Shansi, Chili,
Heilungkiang, and other provinces asked permission to forbid plantation
entirely in one year. This, no doubt, shows great energy of purpose;
but whether their intention is thoroughly carried out in all their
provinces, and whether the local officials succeed in inducing the
people to plant other profitable products on their soil to yield them
a living so that they gladly submit to the suppression, remains to be
seen.

“The duties and likin on this drug are required for the bulk of the
army estimates. Recently the Ministry of Finance memorialised us and
obtained permission to increase the price of salt to make up for these
duties and likin. This plan, however, only aggregates four or five
million taels, and there still remains a large deficit.

“We are eagerly bent on introducing a better government, and between
our agitation at the long weakness of our people, in whom it is
difficult to infuse energy, and the fear that the expectations of
the friendly Powers may not be easily satisfied, we are filled with
constant and pressing anxiety. We hereby reiterate the prohibition
against smoking. The Anti-Opium Commissioners and the high officials in
the capital and provinces are held responsible to forbid, faithfully
and with energy, all officials, civil or military, to smoke. Those in
command of troops or in charge of educational institutions are made
responsible for suppression of smoking among soldiers and students.
As to merchants and the people, the responsibility must rest with the
Ministry of the Interior, the Viceroys, Governors, Military Governors,
and the Governor of the Imperial Prefecture of Shuntienfu. They will
try to obtain the best prescriptions, establish anti-opium institutes,
and distribute free medicines when necessary. They should encourage
their sense of honour, and adopt the plans and practices of foreign
countries, so that the people’s vices may be gradually lessened and
finally eradicated.

“As to the prohibition of plantation, Viceroys or Governors, the
Governor of the Imperial Prefecture of Shuntienfu, and Military
Governors are commanded to direct their subordinates to carry out the
suppression with care and thoroughness. They should also cause other
grains to be planted in place of the pernicious drug, and they will be
rewarded according to the degree of success they attain. The Ministry
of the Interior will supervise these measures being put in operation.

“In regard to devising means to fill the deficit of duties and likin,
the Ministry of Finance is desired carefully to consider the question.
It is, undoubtedly, an important point to be dealt with, but it may
be disposed of by weighing advantages and drawbacks and considering
all possible resources. Viceroys and Governors who may have valuable
suggestions on the question are ordered to memorialise the Throne for
their adoption, so that those carrying out the suppression need not
be hampered by financial considerations. Though the Government is in
straitened circumstances, it will neither seek to satisfy its hunger
nor quench its thirst at the expense of this harmful poison, so that it
may rid its people of this great bane.

“Dividing, in this way, the responsibilities and actions, no evasion
of burden will be permitted, and all concerned are commanded to put
forth their best energies to aid us in securing prosperous rule by
taking natural advantages to ameliorate the conditions of life among
our people. After receipt of this Edict each office in the capital
or provinces is commanded to make a careful report of its plan of
operation in this affair.”

[The above edict is sealed by the Prince Regent, and is signed by the
Grand Councillors Prince Ching, Shih Hsü, Chang Chih-tung, and Lu
Ch’uan-lin.]

This decree leads us to another problem the solution of which will task
the ablest of her statesmen, namely, the financial problem. It may well
be that she would be wiser to seek foreign expert knowledge to grapple
with it, rather than to tide over present difficulties by having
recourse to foreign loans.

There seems no reasonable doubt that China possesses untold mineral
wealth, and that railway enterprise ought also to become a valuable
source of income. Foreign nations have realised it only too well, and
railway and mining concessions have been granted, which China is now
trying to win back into her own hands. She has not been altogether
faithful to her agreements, and the foreign Powers remind one of a
pack of snarling hounds quarrelling over the booty. It is certain that
China cannot dispense at the present time with foreign assistance, but
she would probably find it more profitable in the long run to obtain
the best expert knowledge, and to pay for it, rather than to try and
make bargains and to obtain quick returns. At the present time the
mineral wealth of the country can only be successfully developed under
the direction of trained Europeans, but the Chinese--not unnaturally,
one must admit--are suspicious of foreign aid. The mining concessions
already granted to foreign nations are a constant source of friction,
and entail perpetual controversy. Misunderstandings inevitably arise.

Perhaps the most important of all the changes taking place in China
to-day is in its system of education. It has been somewhat unfairly
said that the only things she cared for in her old educational scheme
were Scholarship and Style. Had there not been some more vital quality
in it, it could hardly have held on so securely for many hundred years.
That vital element may have been the love of _morals_ so inseparably
connected with scholarship in China. Now the old system has been
completely abolished, and the Chinese classics are in danger of being
relegated to the background. As soon as the change was commenced by the
abolition of the triennial examinations thousands of students flocked
to Japan, eager to absorb the new learning which was to replace the
old. This was no difficult task in one way, for the cultivation of the
memory was the main object of the former education, and they learnt
what was taught them with a readiness which naturally led them to
suppose that they had mastered a subject when they had committed its
terms to memory. The result was as unsatisfactory as might have been
anticipated; for they merely brought home with them a second-hand,
unassimilated collection of information without any satisfactory
foundation. Japanese influence, which was paramount after the amazing
success of Japan during the recent war, soon waned, and even the
Japanese themselves have deplored the rashness of their policy with
regard to China.[10] The returned students were by no means fitted for
the position of becoming teachers of “Young China.” The impossibility
of obtaining competent teachers of Western science for so vast an
empire as China must be obvious to every one, and the appointment of
unqualified teachers has brought much confusion into the schools. The
spirit of unrest and insubordination has been steadily growing, and the
Government has tried to check this by enjoining a stricter worship of
Confucius.

In mission schools the influence of this spirit has also been felt,
although in a less degree. It is of the utmost importance that all
missions should do their best to counteract this feeling and to
inculcate loyalty and obedience, while endeavouring as far as possible
to correlate the education with that given in the Government schools.
They are seriously handicapped by the much larger salaries now offered
by Government in order to get capable teachers, and the missions must
be prepared to make large sacrifices if they are to continue the
educational work which they have so successfully inaugurated. They have
at least 1500 primary schools, in which there are not less than 30,000
scholars. In these the teaching is usually superior to that of the
Government schools, but the equipment is very inferior.

It would be out of place to describe here the various schemes which
are now being put before the British public for carrying on the
education of those trained in mission schools into the higher branches
of knowledge implied in a college training, but it is of supreme
importance that the education which is given by Europeans--whether in
mission or in other schools--should be first-rate in quality. It were
better, if need be, to restrict the scope of operations rather than
allow any defect in the quality of the work. It has been the tendency
of most missions to undertake more work than they could successfully
cope with; and while admiring the results they have achieved, often
under a heavy strain, I cannot but hope that in the future a more
generous support, especially in the matter of increased staff, will be
given to those who are labouring for the educational regeneration of
China.

An increasing number of students are going to Great Britain and America
for education, but it is recognised that there are difficulties
and dangers in this course. One of the most far-sighted of China’s
statesmen, H.E. Tuan Fang has instituted a wise scheme of preparation
for such students. There is an annual examination held at Nanking
for all students going abroad under Government auspices. In 1907
eighty-four candidates presented themselves, of whom seventy-two were
men and twelve women. They were examined in the following subjects:
English composition, translation from English into Chinese and _vice
versa_, Latin, French, German, chemistry, physics and physiology,
history, geography, Chinese composition, geometry, trigonometry,
algebra. The only failures were in languages.

In a recent lecture to the China Society, Mr. Cantlie stated the fact
that the average size of the Chinese brain is greater than that of any
other race; and certainly the students who have come over to Europe
show a capacity of not only keeping up with our students in their work,
but frequently of surpassing them.

The whole civilised world looked on with astonishment and admiration
at the rapid evolution of the Japanese nation in recent times, and
now the Chinese Empire has resolved to make a similar change. It has
a much more difficult task to achieve, and one which, on account of
the size of the Empire, is likely to have a far greater importance for
the world at large. The Chinese are strongly animated by the spirit
of patriotism; they have great qualities of heart and mind, and a set
determination to carry through the necessary reforms. In the dark ages
of the past they were the pioneers in art, science, and philosophy;
therefore one can with hopefulness look forward to a yet nobler
future, and trust that the new era which is beginning may be one of
ever-increasing greatness for the Celestial Empire.




TABLE OF THE PRINCIPAL CHINESE DYNASTIES


Legendary Chinese history extends from the twenty-ninth to the tenth
century B.C., the first dynasty emerging from the mists being the

  Chow dynasty                   1122 to 249 B.C.
  Han  dynasty                    206 B.C. to 220 A.D.
  Tang dynasty                    618 A.D. to 906 A.D.
  Sung dynasty                    960 A.D. to 1279 A.D.
  Yuan (the Mongol)              1280 A.D. to 1367 A.D.
  Ming                           1368 A.D. to 1643 A.D.
  Ching, or Ts’ing (Manchu)      1643 to the present day.




FOOTNOTES


[1] The legend of the Willow Pattern (introduced into England by
Minton in 1780) is as follows:--Koong-Shee, the daughter of a wealthy
mandarin, fell in love with her father’s secretary, Chang. She had been
already affianced to a wealthy suitor, so her father shut her up in his
house close by the tea-garden. Koong-Shee begged Chang to help her to
escape before the peach came into blossom, and he succeeded in doing
so. In the willow pattern they are seen escaping across the bridge.
They were followed, alas! by the irate suitor to a distant island,
where he set fire to their house. The spirits of the lovers were
transmuted into doves, which are seen hovering over their old haunts.

[2] A society has been formed in China this year (1908) for the purpose
of preserving ancient monuments, as they are suffering not only at the
hands of travellers, but of native officials.

[3] The first Chinese settlers are said to have come from the shores of
the Caspian Sea, bringing with them the silkworm and the mulberry.

[4] Five missionary societies have combined to provide a good teaching
staff. It is to be hoped that several other such union colleges may be
established in different parts of the Empire.

[5] H. E. is a nephew of the late Li Hung Chang, and was adopted by him.

[6] For these details I am indebted to the courtesy of Mr. Ivan Chen,
of the Imperial Chinese Legation.

[7] The late Dowager Empress conferred on him the title of “Sincere and
loyal Spreader of Civilization,” in addition to his old title of “The
great, righteous, and complacent Buddha of Western Heavens.”

[8] Hankow is six hundred miles from the sea-coast, but ocean-going
ships can come right up the river to that point, and smaller steamers
go yet another four hundred miles to Ichang.

[9] Extract from Sir John Jordan’s correspondence with the Foreign
Office--Paper _China_, No. 1, 1908, page 36. For full details of
this matter, see Arnold-Forster’s “International Commission for the
Investigation of the Opium Trade” (Hodder & Stoughton).

[10] See Count Okuma’s article in “The Far East.”




INDEX


  Aboriginal tribes, Kachins, 253
    Lolos or Ibien, 175, 197, 211
    Manzas, 211
    Miaos, 206–7, 210
    Ming Chiaos, 235

  American Episcopal Mission, 11
    Board Mission School, Peking, 34
    hospital, 68
    Presbyterians, 17, 40
    soldiers, 93

  Ancestral worship, 119, 215

  Anti-footbinding, 168

  Arsenal, 42

  Art, Chinese and Japanese, 100


  Baber, 175

  Bábúland, 211

  Baptist Mission, 38, 40

  Belgian Syndicate, 106

  Bhamo, 255

  Binyon, Lawrence, 189

  Bôdhisattva, 97

  Book of Rites, 50

  Boxers, 104, 43

  Bridegroom, 213

  Brooke, 174

  “Buddha’s Glory,” 192

  Buddhism, 50, 64

  “Buddhism as a Religion,” ix, 166

  Buddhist temples, 96, 193, 241
    monasteries, 64, 96–8, 164, 190–1


  Camel-back bridge, 144

  Camels, 74

  Cantlie, James, 270

  Chang Chih Tung, 215, 266

  Chaotung, 205–6

  Chefoo, 14

  Chen, Ivan, 90

  Cheng Ting, 80

  Chengtu, Ch. xv.

  Chili, vii, 72

  China Society, 69, 270

  “China’s Only Hope,” 215

  Ching, Prince, 266

  Chowtsun, 27

  Christian converts, 76–7

  “Cliff of the Love of Life,” 52

  Colleges, Anglo-Chinese, Tientsin, 71
    St. John’s, Shanghai, 10–12
    Tsinan, 40
    Union Medical, Peking, 41
    medical, for women, Tientsin, 71

  “Concession,” 2, 112

  Confucius, Ch. vii.
    his doctrine, 57–9, 120
    grave, 61
    worship, 268
    sacrifices, 57
    temple, 57

  Constitution, 259

  Cormorant fishing, 194, 198
    River, 201

  Cottonwool fowl, 15

  Cruelty, 113

  Currency, 126–30


  Dalai Lama, 98

  “Doctrine of the Mean,” 61

  Dragon, symbolic, 189

  Dust storms, 80, 98


  Earth, Temple of, 96

  Education question, 267

  Emperor, present, 258
    late, 257, 258
    Shun, 49
    Yu Huang, 49

  Empress, Dowager, 100, 257–8

  Eton hostel, 172

  Examinations, military, 86
    triennial, 87–90
    hall, Chengtu, 88
    Nanking, 269, 270

  Extra-territoriality, 260


  Finance problem, 264, 266

  French influence, 168, 218

  Friends’ Mission, 160


  German Sphere, Ch. ii.
    High school, 14
    railway, 14

  Giles’s “Religions of Ancient China,” ix

  Gin Tien, 221

  Government, 258

  Grand Council, 258, 266
    Canal, Ch. viii.

  Great North China Plain, 110

  Great Wall, 110

  Gunboat, British, 144


  Hackmann, ix, 166

  Hall of the Classics, 104

  Han dynasty, 28

  Han Lin, 90

  Han Yang, 115

  Hankow, 111–5

  Hart, Sir Robert, 35

  Heaven, altar of, 95
    temple of, 95
    and Hell, Temple of, 81
    Gate of, 49

  “Heavenly Gates,” 78

  Hong Kong, 1, 2

  Hopkinson, Professor, 86

  Hosie, 118, 148, 225

  Hwang Ho, 68, 119


  Ichang, 116–20

  Imperial decrees, on Currency, 126–30
    on Opium, 262–6

  Infanticide, 212

  Irrigation, 152, 177


  Jade, 103

  James, H. E. M., 77

  Japanese art, 100
    influence, 268

  Jordan, Sir John, 262

  Ju Jen degree, 90


  Kachins, 253

  Kaifeng, 33

  Kiangsu, 262

  Kiaochow, 13

  Kiating, 181, 192

  Ku, Mr., 104

  Küfow, Ch. vii.

  Kwan Hsien, 177

  Kwanyin, 97, 241

  Kweichow Fu, 135


  Lama temple, Peking, 97

  Laowatan Rapid, 201

  Li Ching Fong, Lord, 69

  Li Hung Chang, 36, 69

  Likin, 264

  Lincheng, 107

  Little, 201

  Lo Han, 65

  Local government, 161, 258

  Loess formation, 78

  Lolos, 175, 197, 211

  Loti, Pierre, 18

  Lu, monastery of, 64

  Lu Ch’uan Lin, 266

  Lu Feng Hsien, 228


  Macgowan, 135

  Manchu dress, 100

  Manchu garrison, 26
    lady, 99
    yamen, 171

  Manchuria, 77

  Mandarin’s palace, 6

  Manifold, Col., 158

  Man-tsi tombs, 183

  Manzas, 211

  Marco Polo, 65, 163, 184

  Medical missions, 40–42

  Mekong River, 244

  Mencius, 56, 57

  Miaos, 206–7, 210

  Military escort, 54

  Min Hills, 177

  Min River, Ch. xvi.

  Ming Chiaos, 235

  Ming Dynasty, 205

  Mining Concessions, 266–7

  Museum, 38

  Myers, Captain, 93


  Nail paintings, 99

  Nanking, 269

  Nature worship, 49, 50

  _North China Herald_, 185


  Official corruption, 260

  Okuma, Count, 268

  Omi, Mount, Ch. xvii.

  “O mi to fu,” 203

  Opium, 80, 261–6

  “Orphan spirit” lights, 203

  Otter fishing, 180


  Paoting-fu, 72

  Paper windows, 228

  Péhan railway, 80

  Peiho River, 73

  Peking, Ch. xi.

  Penshan, 184

  Police, Sikh, 9
    Chinese, 161

  Pollard, S., 204

  Post Office, Shanghai, 10

  Postmaster, British, 35, 248

  Presbyterians, 77, 116

  Prison reform, 260


  “Railway Enterprise in China,” Kent, ix
    German, 14
    Chinese, 91
    Péhan, Ch. xii.
    Taiyüanfu, 80

  Regent, 257, 258

  Review, 84


  Salween River, 246

  Schools, girls’, 33, 34, 168
    mission, 268

  Sericulture, 28

  Shanghai, Ch. i.

  Shans, 249

  Shansi, Ch. ix., x.

  Shantung, Ch. ii.

  Shi Hsü, 216

  Showyang, 82

  Shun King Fu, 155

  Shuntien Fu, 265

  Siege of Peking, 93, 94

  Social Reform, 260

  Soldiers, Chinese, 39, 83, 172

  Students in England, 90, 169

  Sui Fu, 195–7

  Szechwan, Ch. xiv.


  Tai An, 47

  Tai Shan, Ch. vi.

  Taiyüanfu, Ch. x., viii, 113

  Tali Fu, Ch. xxi.

  Taoism, 81

  Taping River, 249

  Tehchow, 66, 68

  Teng Yueh, 247–9

  Theatre, 82

  Theatricals, 250

  Tibetan pilgrims, 191

  Tientsin, 70–72

  Tiger, 188, 189
    braves, 85
    “climb-mountain,” 48

  Towers of refuge, 204

  Tsinan, Ch. v.

  Tsingchowfu, 17

  Tsingtao, 13

  Tsinssu, 85

  Tsowping, 29

  Tuan Fang, H.E., 258, 262, 269

  Tungchwan Yun, 209


  University, Chengtu, 169
    Taiyüanfu, 81
    Tsinan, 32

  “Uplift of China,” ix


  Veitch’s Chinese shrubs, 232

  Village schools, 23, 24


  Wai wupu, 258

  Wan Yen Sz, 186, 187

  Wang’s village, 19–23

  Wanhsien, 144

  War, Ministry of, 85

  Wei-hai-wei, 71

  Weihsien, 16, 17

  Wesleyan mission, 210

  Wheelbarrow travelling, 20

  White wax insects, 183, 210

  Willow pattern, 5

  Worship, earliest form in China, 50

  Wu, Lord, 42

  Wu Chang, 115


  Yellow River, Ch. viii., 109

  Yuan Shih Kai, 71, 258

  Yung Chang Fu, 245

  Yünnan, province, Ch. xviii.
    Fu, Ch. xx.


                  Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
                           Edinburgh & London




Transcriber’s Notes


Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
unbalanced.

Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
the corresponding illustrations.

Transcriber made some minor adjustments to the List of Illustrations to
make it more useful with electronic media.

Transcriber copied captions in the List of Illustrations to the
corresponding illustrations that did not have captions or whose
captions were unclear. Transcriber also attempted to increase the
contrast of very light text within some illustrations.

Footnotes, originally at the bottoms of the pages from which they
were referenced, have been collected, sequentially renumbered, and
repositioned just before the Index.

The index was not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page
references.

Some Roman numerals ended with “j”. Transcriber changed those to “i”.

Page 76: “he retailed” was printed that way.