see how isolated a life the missionaries must lead, and under most trying
climatic conditions. The city lies in a hollow surrounded by mountains at
an altitude of 5,100 feet, continually shrouded in mist. The sun is only
visible one day in four all the year round, and then perhaps only for a
few minutes. We did not see the complete outline of the mountains while
we were there, and we were constantly reminded of Scotch mists, rolling
up for a few moments and then obliterating everything again. This was the
only place where we heard so dismal a report of the weather.
Some Chinese ladies came to call on us and brought us charming
embroidered spectacle-cases and puffed rice as gifts, but practically all
our time was devoted to studying the aborigines and hearing about them.
They were extraordinarily friendly, and one old hunch-back, who came
from a village more than thirty miles away, had brought two fine fowls
as gifts to the ladies and ourselves. I presented her with a woollen
jacket, as the people suffer much from the cold, and when she next came
to service on a broiling August day she was still wearing it with great
pride!
I should like to have spent months making studies of these people,
and tried in vain to make notes of all the details possible of such
interesting and various types; but the people were anxious to get back
to their homes, and after one day spent almost continuously in meetings
and classes, the gathering broke up. It was a great thing to be able
to study them at such close quarters, and to find them willing to be
sketched and photographed. About two hundred and fifty were present, so
that one could get a good idea of the various tribes.
We left Ta-ting by the same gate as we entered it, and followed our
former route for about fifteen miles. By dint of making rather long
stages we reached Kwei Yang, the capital, on the fifth day, instead
of the usual time, the sixth day. While on the journey we passed some
pleasant-looking homesteads, which no doubt belonged to wealthy Chinese,
as we heard that it was not at all unusual for people living in towns to
have country houses as well. Later on I visited two such country houses
near Swatow, and was much impressed by their air of refinement, not
to mention the beautiful works of art with which they were decorated.
Country life appeals strongly to the Chinese. While on this part of the
journey we came to a fine five-span bridge with a gateway at each end
and decorative carved stonework balustrades, but alas! it was in so
ruinous a condition that it probably no longer exists. It is one of the
most disappointing things in China that nothing architectural is kept in
repair; yet the Chinese are such past masters in the art of restoration
when forced to do it for reasons of safety or economy!
The roads were worse than ever, and incredibly slippery and muddy. On
the outskirts of Lan-ni-Kou, which we reached on the second day, we saw
people busily engaged picking nettles, their hands protected by thick
gloves. We were glad to find an unusually good inn there, where we got a
brazier and were able to dry our sopping clothes. We had walked a good
deal in pelting rain, for the stage was long and arduous, up and down
precipitous hills: we did sixty miles in two days. On the third we had
to descend the face of a cliff by a steep stone staircase covered with
slippery mud. There were long strings of pack animals heavily laden,
and they jolted down in front of us, sliding and slithering in a most
precarious way. The scene was magnificent—masses of roses hanging in
long festoons from the rocks, and the narrow verdant plain far below,
with the shining river, Ya-chih-ho, flowing through it. We did not reach
it without several tumbles, and found a custom station on the bank,
where a lot of mail-bags were waiting to be ferried across. There was a
motto over the custom house urging every one to advance the trade of the
country. The valley was full of flowering trees; catalpa, orange, azalea,
iris, all added to the wealth of scent and colour. The little village on
the further side of the river had particularly attractive gardens with
hedges of spindle cactus, but the rain still poured down, and it was a
weary climb for the next two hours.
[Illustration: Robbers’ Haunts.
_Page 108_]
Compensation awaited us, however, at Wei Shang, in the form of a really
clean inn, where our room was like a glass case, the whole of one
side being glazed, and a few panes missing, which afforded necessary
ventilation. There was a slight lack of privacy, but we were in an inner
courtyard and could manage to rig up some shelter from the public gaze.
As we neared the capital, things looked more prosperous, and the amount
of opium-poppy cultivation decreased. The road was decidedly better and
the weather improved. The immediate approach to the city is decorated
with no less than twenty-seven memorial arches, many of which are put
up to the memory of good mothers and widows. Kwei Yang is a city of a
hundred thousand people, and most attractive both in its surroundings and
in itself. We enjoyed the hospitality of the only missionaries in the
station, Mr. and Mrs. Pike (Australians), of the China Inland Mission. No
one realizes how delightful such hospitality is unless they have had an
equally arduous journey—to find bright airy rooms, with little intimate
touches to welcome you, preparations for a hot bath, freshly-made
cakes, all the kindly thought above all, to make you happy and at home:
this is an experience of infinite charm, and practically universal in
missionary circles. It has often been taken advantage of by unsympathetic
travellers, and yet happily it persists.
We were presently asked to say what our plans were, and what places we
wished to visit in the neighbourhood, that everything might be arranged;
and indeed everything was beautifully arranged for us in a way that could
not have been done without help. Mr. Li was dispatched with our cards
and a letter of thanks to Mr. Liu, the Postal Commissioner, who had so
befriended us (_see_ page 91). He proved to be a friend and supporter
of the mission, and came to call on us—a man speaking excellent English
who has been Commissioner for twenty-three years. He lives in English
style, which, by the way, is much cheaper than Chinese. Unfortunately
his wife was ill, so we could not call on her; but we made friends with
her sister, a lady doctor who had come the long journey from Fukien
to give her medical assistance. We saw her several times; she played
the harmonium for the Sunday service in church, and in the afternoon
she and her brother-in-law joined us in an excursion to the top of a
hill overlooking the town, which was crowned with the usual Buddhist
monastery. The view was superb: below we saw thousands of graves, taking
up the whole ground-space of the hill-side. Mr. Liu told us he and a
friend had once carefully examined a great number of the tombstones, but
found none dating back more than eighty years. It seemed a pity that so
much valuable land should be taken up by the dead so close to the city.
As we walked back in the lovely evening light, kite-flying was in full
swing and crowds were taking the air.
Another thing to be done was to arrange for our further journey, and Mr.
Pike got a personal interview for our interpreter with the Governor, to
whose yamen he has the _entrée_. The Governor is of the old school—does
not encourage progress. When Sir John Jordan telegraphed to inquire about
the opium cultivation, he replied evasively, “With me there is none”; but
it is a question whether that would be accurate, even if applied only
to the yamen! Mr. Liu told us that one official made $50,000 on it last
year, and whereas the price of opium two years ago was six dollars per
ounce, it has fallen to forty cents and will probably fall much lower
owing to the bumper harvest now being reaped. The Governor agreed that
we might proceed to Chen Yüen, but absolutely refused to allow us to go
off the main road to visit the district where the black Miao live. Mr.
Liu had already told us that his postal runners had been robbed less than
a fortnight before, and two hundred bags of silk had nearly been captured
from them. His escort of twenty men had been attacked by six hundred
robbers, it was said, but they put up a plucky fight and reinforcements
arrived in time to save the situation. The Governor said we must have
an escort of thirty men, and promised they should be ready to start on
Monday morning—this being Saturday.
We visited a remarkable Buddhist monastery, a little distance outside the
city, where the bodies of deceased monks are always cremated. This is
a most unusual practice, and there is a stone crematorium just outside
the temple precincts, near to a paved cemetery. Here are handsome stone
tombs of varying importance, in which the ashes are placed. We saw a
monk going the round of these tombs, burning incense before each one
and genuflecting with great apparent earnestness. Sometimes it was done
twice, sometimes three times, according, no doubt, to the importance
of the dead man; we were informed that this takes place always twice a
day. The monastery was most beautifully situated amongst the trees on a
hill-side. There are now eight sects of Buddhists in China, and probably
cremation of monks is peculiar to one of them.
It was with regret that we left Kwei Yang, for evidently the shops were
worth visiting, and we got some silk which was quite different in design
and colouring from any we had seen elsewhere. Beautiful silk covers are
made here for bedding, and the province is noted for its “wild” silk.
In leaving the city we passed through streets full of embroidery shops;
other trades were to be seen, each in their own locality, and we longed
for time to make fuller acquaintance with this most attractive city.
As we crossed one handsome bridge we saw another with nine arches and
a prolongation across a road where the archway was much finer. There
are large tanneries on the outskirts and an agricultural college, whose
activities we saw in plantations further along the road. As Kweichow is
particularly rich in different kinds of trees, this ought to be a most
useful institution. There are many beautiful pine trees, especially
the Cunninghamia; Liquidambar formosano (from which the tea chests are
made); the Rhus vernicifera (already mentioned); the Boehmeria nivea
(of which grass cloth is made, which is so universally used in China
for hot-weather clothes and which is now largely imported to Europe
and America in the shape of embroidered tablecloths and d’oyleys); the
Gleditschia sinensis (the soap tree); Sapium sebiferum (the vegetable
tallow tree); the Aleurites Fordii (wood-oil tree); the Sapindus
mukorossi (paper mulberry); the Broussonetia; the Agle sepiaria, a kind
of orange tree, with curious divided leaf, and many others.
We set off from Kwei Yang accompanied by thirty armed soldiers (some
of those we had previously with us were not armed, and few had any
ammunition even when they carried rifles) and three policemen under the
command of a Captain, who certainly was a pattern of inefficiency and
slovenliness. His dress was in keeping with this: he wore white puttees,
always dirty and generally wreathed loosely round his fat calves. When it
rained he wore a long macintosh, which had to be held up like a lady’s
skirt in the old days. He kept no discipline, and when we neared the
most dangerous part of the road he travelled in a chair, so as to be
thoroughly rested before a possible attack! The men carried with them a
banner with which they go into battle, and had a little military flag,
which was always set up outside the inns where we halted. These soldiers
were a noisy, cheerful crew, and rather spoilt the comfort of the
journey, but probably saved us from having our belongings looted, if from
nothing worse.
The discipline of our escort left much to be desired, and they prepared
for the expected fray with the brigands by constant brushes between
themselves! Having a doctor in the party must have seemed quite a
fortunate thing to them. One evening Li asked her to put a few stitches
in a soldier’s cut head; next came one with a sore arm by too heavy use
of a stick on it. I drew the line at this, and forbade any more such
cases to be brought to the doctor, remarking that next they would ask
to be cured of stomach ache! In point of fact, this happened the very
next morning, and our burst of laughter discouraged them from further
requests for medical attendance. We heard more and more gruesome stories
as we proceeded, and I found it difficult to decide whether the fear
expressed was simulated or real. The soldiers begged for a pork feast at
a point of great danger (?) to give them the necessary courage. As it
was important to keep them in good temper with ourselves, I agreed; and
great preparations went on that evening. Some chickens instead of pork
having been procured at the market, the whole inn yard seemed full of
flying feathers. The result was a thoroughly chicken-hearted crew next
day: that is, I feel sure, in accordance with proper Chinese theory! One
of the men applied to M. for treatment of a sore foot, and as it appeared
probable that the swelling on the sole would develop into an abscess, she
ordered him to remain behind. He appeared very disappointed and said that
he had come determined to fight, even if it cost him his life. One of the
soldiers, we were told, was of the utmost bravery and equal to fighting
ten robbers. We were informed later on that two men had been killed on
the road just after we had passed, but I had a shrewd suspicion that all
these stories were told to enhance the value of the escort when it came
to giving the _pourboire_ at the end of the journey.
One most unpleasant thing happened which might well have proved a much
more serious affair. The men were very careless in their behaviour when
they thought there was no immediate danger, and straggled along the
road at irregular distances, a fact which pleased us, as we were not so
annoyed by their ceaseless chatter. They would hand their rifles to one
another (they were never loaded), and often one man would carry three.
Yao, our admirable cook, being a willing fellow, was carrying a rifle
nearly all day. He continued to do so when he went ahead at midday, as he
always did, to secure our rooms at the halting-place for the night. When
we were entering the town, the Captain, who had preceded us, turned back
and told us not to go any further, as he was going to the yamen to see
about quarters and that all the inns were full. Li saw that something was
the matter, but we decided to go on and see for ourselves. Soon we found
Yao sitting weeping on a doorstep and our luggage scattered along the
main street. He blurted out somewhat incoherently that he had been set
upon by the soldiery of the place, because he was carrying a rifle, and
accused of being a robber. In vain he asserted that he was the servant
of foreigners, who were with a military escort; they beat him and kicked
him. Yao reported further that our escort had taken all the rooms in the
inn for themselves. We made our way there and found his story correct,
and that they had left a dark little room for our use. I felt that it
would never do to give in to this, and showed my indignation plainly:
but as the officer was not present it was rather difficult to see what
was the best plan of procedure. To leave the inn might have given them
an excuse for saying they had been relieved of responsibility. I said we
would look at the upper rooms, which are only used as storerooms, and
happily we found a nice large loft which only needed sweeping out. We
said the soldiers were to bring our things up the rickety ladder, for Yao
was still in a collapsed state, and they did so with good will. He was
considerably comforted by a rubbing down with Elliman, and was allowed
to “coucher” (one of his few French words): I heard later that he might
have lost his life for his offence in being found with a military rifle,
so we had cause to congratulate ourselves that things were no worse.
The soldier’s offence in being found without a rifle was an offence
punishable with death. Next day Yao was fit for duty again, but a very
chastened-looking object.
When we came near to the special danger zone, the escort became more
careful, and our party grew daily larger till it reached at last a
hundred persons, many people taking advantage of our escort. On all the
points of vantage dotted along our road were beacon towers, from which
danger signals are flashed in times of rebellion. I could not resist
having a joke at Li’s expense when we came to a wooded ravine, where
he said the robbers were certainly lurking; “Then I _must_ sketch it,”
I told him, and called a halt, to his obvious dismay. I was merciful,
however, and we didn’t stop more than a few minutes, while I did an
outline of the robbers’ haunt.
This escort went with us till we reached Chen Yüen, whence we travelled
by boat. Although it was somewhat risky to be without one, we decided
that it would be intolerable to have it in the restricted quarters of a
small house-boat. Our courage was rewarded by our immunity from disaster,
whereas a missionary party who took the Yangtze route in order to escape
it fell into the hands of brigands. Our friends, the Pikes, at Kwei
Yang had a most unfortunate experience on their last journey. Their
luggage was seized and all the contents emptied on to the muddy road,
and the robbers took whatever pleased their fancy; the remainder of the
things were not improved by their handling, and when they reached their
destination it was found that odd shoes, broken objects, and a dirty
collection of clothes filled the boxes. The good temper with which they
took their losses was remarkable, considering the difficulty and delay in
replacing necessary things, such as shoes.
One of the most interesting places in Kweichow is the town of Chen Yüen,
and I was glad we kept to the road instead of going by boat from Seh
Ping, although the rapids are said to be very fine. The distant view of
Chen Yüen as it first appears to the traveller through a gap between
the mountains is impressive: it seems to lie in a complete cul-de-sac,
lofty cliffs surrounding it on every side, with the river like a deep
jade-green ribbon winding between the serried ranks of sepia-coloured
roofs. Tempestuous clouds filled the sky as we approached the city, but
the setting sun lighted up a lofty crag studded with temples which
blocked up the end of the valley. The cliffs are so precipitous that the
people have built the city wall starting from the edge of a precipice at
a point some hundred feet above the city, saying that the Almighty had
protected it so far, and certainly His protection was of a very different
quality from that of the wall!
High up the cliffs we climbed to a temple, from which a tocsin sounds
in case of fire: it is certainly a splendid point of view, commanding
the whole city, which winds along the banks of the serpentine river. It
seems strange to see big junks with white-winged sails so far inland,
and to reflect that you can go the whole distance to Shanghai without
setting foot on shore, some fifteen hundred miles. It is a much quicker
way of travelling when going down stream, but terribly slow in the other
direction, not infrequently a three months’ journey.
The temples at Chen Yüen contain some of the finest wood carvings I have
seen in China, and are wonderfully situated up the face of a cliff, with
magnificent creepers hanging down from its crags and forming a background
to the zigzag stairways which lead from terrace to terrace. The situation
of the temples is chosen with consummate skill, and from each balcony a
new and lovely view is obtained, stretching farther and farther up the
valleys. The whole of the province is composed of mountains, with the
exception of three districts in the centre and north, where there are
plains of a limited size. Considering that the province is sixty-seven
thousand square miles in extent, this is a remarkable fact, and a large
part is inhabited by the aboriginal tribes: it is extraordinary that the
average population is a hundred and twenty-two to the square mile.
Our altitude varied from 1,400 to 5,700 feet, and the highest pass we
crossed was 7,200; our average was about 3,200, as we usually stopped at
villages hidden in the depths of the valleys, and continually crossed
over mountain passes.
[Illustration: Light for the Spirits.
_Page 113_]
We were quite sorry to leave the province, and I should like to have
visited the southern part, which we were told was even more beautiful
than the north, though it is hard to believe it. We were so anxious,
however, to visit Changteh, that we refused to be persuaded to change our
route, and found no cause to regret our decision.
We saw a curious detail in one village—a lamp at the top of a lofty
stand—with long cords by which to lower and raise it for lighting
purposes. Below it are ancestral tablets in a shrine and it stands in
the centre of the street. The use of the lamp is to act as a beacon to
wandering spirits who died away from home. It is only lighted on certain
festivals, and there is one at each end of that village—query, was there
great loss of life of the inhabitants during some absence from home? I
have only seen this spirit beacon on one other occasion, and that was in
the neighbouring province of Yünnan.
[Illustration]
_Chapter V_
_Some Aboriginal Tribes in Kweichow_
“I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sat reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:
But the least motion which they made,
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If such belief from Heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan;
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man.”
—W. WORDSWORTH.
_Chapter V_
_Some Aboriginal Tribes in Kweichow_
[Illustration: MIAO WOMAN.]
Kweichow is supposed to be the original home of the Miao stock. The
mountainous character of the province with its rugged fastnesses and deep
valleys is admirably suited to be the refuge for the many tribes who have
continually been driven back throughout the centuries by their enemies,
the Chinese. Many have taken refuge in the neighbouring province of
Yünnan and even in French territory south of the Red River. The hostility
of the Chinese to them is due to three causes, as far as I can gather:
(_i_) to the low morality of the tribes, (_ii_) to their illiteracy,
and (_iii_) to their dissimilarity of character to the Chinese. The
first two points are very vital to the Chinese: they are at the root of
all their civilization, for no ancient race has laid greater stress on
the necessity of morality and learning. Their contempt for the Miao is
unbounded and out of all proportion. Our interpreter was astonished to
find how different they were from all that he had ever heard, and decided
that he must enlighten Peking on the subject when he returned home!
The character of the people is in striking contrast to that of the
Chinese. They are warlike, frank, lawless, primitive, open-hearted,
opposed to trading and city life: some are great riders, but we never
saw one on horseback. This was due to their poverty, and we heard of no
rich ones: no doubt the headmen have a certain relative wealth. In the
north of Yünnan we heard of their having curious horse-races, when the
course would be strewn with feathers. The men wore capes, which gave them
a weird look of being birds of prey, as they swept along the course with
outstretched arms in clouds of dust and feathers. It is like the Caucas
Race in _Alice in Wonderland_: nobody wins.
The Miao are all agriculturists. They cultivate everything they require
for food and clothing except salt, which is a Chinese Government
monopoly: they only enjoy this luxury about twice a year, we were told at
Ta-ting.