ON THE ROAD TO TA-LI FU
On August 6, we dispatched half our equipment to Ta-li Fu, and three
days later we ourselves left Yün-nan Fu at eleven o'clock in the
morning after an interminable wait for our caravan. Through the
kindness of Mr. Page, a house boat was put at our disposal and we
sailed across the upper end of the beautiful lake which lies just
outside the city, and intercepted the caravan twenty-five _li_[1] from
Yün-nan Fu.
On the way we passed a number of cormorant fishers, each with ten or a
dozen birds sitting quietly upon the boat with outspread wings drying
their feathers. Every bird has a ring about its neck, and is thus
prevented from swallowing the fish which it catches by diving into the
water.
After waiting an hour for our caravan we saw the long train of mules
and horses winding up the hill toward us. There were seventeen
altogether, and in the midst of them rode the cook clinging desperately
with both hands to a diminutive mule, his long legs dangling and a look
of utter wretchedness upon his face. Just before the caravan reached us
it began to rain, and the cook laboriously pulled on a suit of yellow
oilskins which we had purchased for him in Yün-nan Fu. These, together
with a huge yellow hat, completed a picture which made us roar with
laughter; Heller gave the caption for it when he shouted, "Here comes
the 'Yellow Peril.'"
[Footnote 1: A _li_ in this province equals one-third of an English
mile.]
[Illustration: Cormorant Fishers on the Lake at Yün-nan Fu]
[Illustration: Our Camp at Chou Chou on the Way to Ta-li Fu]
We surveyed the tiny horses with dismay. As Heller vainly tried to
get his girth tight enough to keep the saddle from sliding over the
animal's tail he exclaimed, "Is this a horse or a squirrel I'm trying
to ride?" But it was not so bad when we finally climbed aboard and
found that we did not crush the little brutes.
A seventy-pound box on each side of the saddle with a few odds and
ends on top made a pack of at least one hundred and sixty pounds. This
is heavy even for a large animal and for these tiny mules seemed an
impossibility, but it is the usual weight, and the business-like way in
which they moved off showed that they were not overloaded.
The Yün-nan pack saddle is a remarkably ingenious arrangement. The
load is strapped with a rawhide to a double A-shaped frame which fits
loosely over a second saddle on the animal's back and is held in place
by its own weight. If a mule falls the pack comes off and, moreover, it
can be easily removed if the road is bad or whenever a stop is made. It
has the great disadvantage, however, of giving the horses serious back
sores which receive but scanty attention from the _mafus_ (muleteers).
When we were fairly started upon our long ride to Ta-li Fu the time
slipped by in a succession of delightful days. Since this was the main
caravan route the _mafus_ had regular stages beyond which they would
not go. If we did not stop for luncheon the march could be ended early
in the afternoon and we could settle ourselves for the night in a
temple which always proved a veritable "haven of rest" after a long
day in the saddle. A few pages from my wife's "Journal" of September
fifteenth describes our camp at Lu-ho-we and our life on the road to
Ta-li Fu.
We are sitting on the porch of an old, old temple. It is on a
hilltop in a forest grove with the gray-walled town lying at our
feet. The sun is flooding the flower-filled courtyard and throwing
bars of golden light through the twisted branches of a bent old
pine, over the stone well, and into the dim recesses behind the
altar where a benevolent idol grins down upon us.
We have been in the saddle for eight hours and it is enchanting to
rest in this peaceful, aged temple. Outside children are shouting
and laughing but all is quiet here save for the drip of water in
the well, and the chatter of a magpie on the pine tree. Today we
made the stage in one long march and now we can rest and browse
among our books or wander with a gun along the cool, tree-shaded
paths.
The sun is hot at mid-day, although the mornings and evenings are
cold, and tonight we shall build a fragrant fire of yellow pine,
and talk for an hour before we go to sleep upon the porch where we
can see the moon come up and the stars shining so low that they
seem like tiny lanterns in the sky.
It is seven days since we left Yün-nan Fu and each night we have
come to temples such as this. There is an inexpressible charm
about them, lying asleep, as it were, among the trees of their
courtyards, with stately, pillared porches, and picturesque gables
upturned to the sky. They seem so very, very old and filled with
such great calm and peace.
Sometimes they stand in the midst of a populous town and we ride
through long streets between dirty houses, swarming with ragged
women, filthy men, and screaming children; suddenly we come to the
dilapidated entrance of our temple, pass through a courtyard, close
the huge gates and are in another world.
We leave early every morning and the boys are up long before dawn.
As we sleepily open our eyes we see their dark figures silhouetted
against the brilliant camp fire, hear the yawns of the _mafus_ and
the contented crunching of the mules as they chew their beans.
Wu appears with a lantern and calls out the hour and before we
have fully dressed the odor of coffee has found its way to the
remotest corner of the temple, and a breakfast of pancakes, eggs,
and oatmeal is awaiting on the folding table spread with a clean
white cloth. While we are eating, the beds are packed, and the
loads retied, accompanied by a running fire of exhortations to the
_mafus_ who cause us endless trouble.
They are a hard lot, these _mafus_. Force seems to be the only
thing they understand and kindness produces no results. If the
march is long and we stop for tiffin it is well-nigh impossible to
get them started within three hours without the aid of threats.
Once after a long halt when all seemed ready, we rode ahead only to
wait by the roadside for hours before the caravan arrived. As soon
as we were out of sight they had begun to shoe their mules and that
night we did not make our stage until long after dark.
In the morning when we see the first loads actually on the horses
we ride off at the head of the caravan followed by a straggling
line of mules and horses picking their way over the jagged stones
of the road. It is delightful in the early morning for the air is
fresh and brisk like that of October at home, but later in the day
when the sun is higher it is uncomfortably hot, and we are glad to
find a bit of shade where we can rest until the caravan arrives.
The roads are execrable. The Chinese have a proverb which says:
"A road is good for ten years and bad for ten thousand," and this
applies most excellently to those of Yün-nan. The main caravan
highways are paved with huge stones to make them passable during
the rainy season, but after a few years' wear the blocks become
broken and irregular, the earth is washed from between them and
they are upturned at impossible angles. The result is a chaotic
mass which by no stretch of imagination can be called a road.
Where the stones are still in place they have been worn to such
glasslike smoothness by the thousands of passing mules that it
is well-nigh impossible to walk upon them. As a result a caravan
avoids the paving whenever it can find a path and sometimes dozens
of deeply-cut trails wind over the hills beside the road.
We are seldom on level ground, for ten per cent of the entire
province is mountainous and we soon lost count of the ranges
which we crossed. It is slow, hard work, toiling up the steep
mountain-sides, but once on the ridges where the country is spread
out below us like a great, green relief map, there is a wonderful
exhilaration, and we climb higher with a joyous sense of freedom.
Yün-nan means "south of the cloud" and every morning the peaks
about us are shrouded in fog. Sometimes the veil-like mists still
float about the mountain tops when we climb into them, and we are
suddenly enveloped in a wet gray blanket which sends us shivering
into the coats tied to our saddles.
For centuries this road has been one of the main trade arteries
through the province, and with the total lack of conservation ideas so
characteristic of the Chinese, every available bit of natural forest
has been cut away. As a result the mountains are desert wastes of
sandstone alternating with grass-covered hills sometimes clothed with
groves of pines or spruces. These trees have all been planted, and ere
they have reached a height of fifteen or twenty feet will yield to the
insistent demand for wood which is ever present with the Chinese.
The ignorance of the need of forest conservation is an illuminating
commentary on Chinese education. Mr. William Hanna, a missionary of
Ta-li Fu, told us that one day he was riding over this same road with a
Chinese gentleman, a deep scholar, who was considered one of the best
educated men of the province. Pointing to the barren hills washed clean
of soil and deeply worn by countless floods, Mr. Hanna remarked that
all this could have been prevented, and that instead of a rocky waste
there might have been a fertile hillside, had the trees been left to
grow.
The Chinese scholar listened in amazement to facts which every western
schoolboy has learned ere he is twelve years old, but of which he was
ignorant because they are not a part of Confucius' teachings. To study
modern science is considered a waste of time by the orthodox Chinese
for "everything good must be old," and all his life he delves into the
past utterly neglectful of the present.
Every valley along the road was green with rice fields and this,
together with the deforestation of the mountains, is responsible for
the almost total lack of animal life. Night after night we set traps
about our temple camps only to find them untouched in the morning.
There were no mammals with the exception of a few red-bellied squirrels
(_Callosciurus erythræus_ subsp.) and now and then a tree shrew
(_Tupaia belangeri chinensis_).
The latter is an interesting species. Although it is an Insectivore,
and a relative of the tiny shrews which live in holes and under logs,
it has squirrel-like habits and in appearance is like a squirrel
to which it is totally unrelated. Instead of the thinly haired
mouselike tails of the ordinary shrews the tupaias have developed
long bushy tails and in fact look and act so much like squirrels
that it is difficult to convince the white residents of Yün-nan, who
are accustomed to see them run about the hedges and walls of their
courtyards that the two are quite unrelated.
The tree shrews are found only in Asia and are one of the most
remarkable instances of a superficial resemblance between unrelated
animals with similar habits. A study of their anatomy has revealed the
fact that they represent a distinct group which is connected with the
monkeys (lemurs).
Although birds were fairly abundant the species were not varied. We
were about a month too early for the ducks and geese, which during the
winter swarm into Yün-nan from the north, and without a dog, pheasants
are difficult to get. In fact we were greatly disappointed in the game
birds, for we had expected good pheasant shooting even along the road
and virtually none were to be found.
The main caravan roads of Yün-nan held little of interest for
us as naturalists, but as students of native customs they were
fascinating, for the life of the province passed before us in panoramic
completeness. Chinese villages wherever we have seen them are marvels
of utter and abandoned filth and although those of Yün-nan are no
exception to the rule, they are considerably better than the coast
cities.
Pigs, chickens, horses and cows live in happy communion with the human
inmates of the houses, the pigs especially being treated as we favor
dogs at home. On the door steps children play with the swine, patting
and pounding them, and one of my friends said that he had actually
seen a mother bring her baby to be nursed by a sow with her family of
piglets.
The natives were pleasant and friendly and seemed to be industrious.
Wherever the deforestation had left sufficient soil on the lower
hillsides patches of corn took the place of the former poppy fields
for opium. In 1906, the Empress Dowager issued an edict prohibiting
the growing of opium, and gave guarantees to the British that it would
be entirely stamped out during the next ten years. Strangely enough
these promises have been faithfully kept, and in Yün-nan the hillsides,
which were once white with poppy blossoms, are now yellow with corn. In
all our 2000 miles of riding over unfrequented trails and in the most
out-of-the-way spots we found only one instance where opium was being
cultivated.
The mandarin of each district accompanied by a guard of soldiers makes
periodical excursions during the seasons when the poppy is in blossom,
cuts down the plants if any are found, and punishes the owners. China
deserves the greatest credit for so successfully dealing with a
question which affects such a large part of her four hundred millions
of people and which presents such unusual difficulties because of its
economic importance.
Just across the frontier in Burma, opium is grown freely and much
is smuggled into Yün-nan. Therefore its use has by no means been
abandoned, especially in the south of the province, and in some towns
it is smoked openly in the tea houses. In August, 1916, just before
we reached Yün-nan Fu there was an _exposé_ of opium smuggling which
throws an illuminating side light on the corruption of some Chinese
officials.
Opium can be purchased in Yün-nan Fu for two dollars (Mexican) an
ounce, while in Shanghai it is worth ten dollars (Mexican). Tang (the
Military Governor), the Minister of Justice, the Governor's brother and
three members of Parliament had collected six hundred pounds of opium
which they undertook to transfer to Shanghai.
Their request that no examination of their baggage be made by the
French during their passage through Tonking was granted, and a similar
favor was procured for them at Shanghai. Thus the sixty cases were
safely landed, but a few hours later, through the opium combine,
foreign detectives learned of the smuggling and the boxes were seized.
The Minister of Justice denied all knowledge of the opium, as did the
three Parliament members, and Governor Tang was not interrogated as
that would be quite contrary to the laws of Chinese etiquette; however,
he will not receive reappointment when his official term expires.
As we neared Ta-li Fu, and indeed along the entire road, we were amazed
at the prevalence of goitre. At a conservative estimate two out of
every five persons were suffering from the disease, some having two, or
even three, globules of uneven size hanging from their throats. In one
village six out of seven adults were affected, but apparently children
under twelve or fourteen years are free from it as we saw no evidences
in either sex. Probably the disease is in a large measure due to the
drinking water, for it is most prevalent in the limestone regions and
seems to be somewhat localized.
Every day we passed "chairs," or as we named them, "mountain
schooners," in each of which a fat Chinaman sprawled while two or
four sweating coolies bore him up hill. The chair is rigged between a
pair of long bamboo poles and consists of two sticks swung by ropes
on which is piled a heap of bedding. Overhead a light bamboo frame
supports a piece of yellow oil-cloth, which completely shuts in the
occupant, except from the front and rear.
The Chinese consider it undignified to walk, or even to ride, and if
one is about to make an official visit nothing less than a four-man
chair is required. Haste is just as much tabooed in the "front
families" as physical exertion, and is utterly incomprehensible to
the Chinese. Major Davies says that while he was in Tonking before
the railroad to Yün-nan Fu had been constructed, M. Doumer, the
Governor-General of French Indo-China, who was a very energetic
man, rode to Yün-nan Fu in an extraordinarily short time. While the
Europeans greatly admired his feat, the Chinese believed he must be in
some difficulty from which only the immediate assistance of the Viceroy
of Yün-nan could extricate him.
In Yün-nan it is necessary to carry one's own bedding for the inns
supply nothing but food, and consequently when a Chinaman rides from
one city to another he piles a great heap of blankets on his horse's
back and climbs on top with his legs astride the animal's neck in
front. The horses are trained to a rapid trot instead of a gallop, and
I know of no more ridiculous sight than a Chinaman bouncing along a
road on the summit of a veritable mountain of bedding with his arms
waving and streamers flying in every direction. He is assisted in
keeping his balance by broad brass stirrups in which he usually hooks
his heels and guides his horse by means of a rawhide bridle decorated
with dozens of bangles which make a comforting jingle whenever he moves.
On the sixth day out when approaching the city of Chu-hsuing Fu we
took a short cut through the fields leaving the caravan to follow
the main road. The trail brought us to a river about forty feet wide
spanned by a bridge made from two narrow planks, with a wide median
fissure. We led our horses across without trouble and Heller started to
follow. He had reached the center of the bridge when his horse shied at
the hole, jumped to one side, hung suspended on his belly for a moment,
and toppled off into the water.
The performance had all happened behind Heller's back and when he
turned about in time to see his horse diving into the river, he stood
looking down at him with a most ludicrous expression of surprise and
disgust, while the animal climbed out and began to graze as quietly as
though nothing had happened.
Chu-hsuing was interesting as being the home of Miss Cordelia Morgan, a
niece of Senator Morgan of Virginia. We found her to be a most charming
and determined young woman who had established a mission station in the
city under considerable difficulties. The mandarin and other officials
by no means wished to have a foreign lady, alone and unattended,
settle down among them and become a responsibility which might cause
them endless trouble, and although she had rented a house before she
arrived, the owner refused to allow her to move in.
She could get no assistance from the mandarin and was forced to live
for two months in a dirty Chinese inn, swarming with vermin, until they
realized that she was determined not to be driven away. She eventually
obtained a house and while she considers herself comfortable, I doubt
if others would care to share her life unless they had an equal amount
of determination and enthusiasm.
At that time she had not placed her work under the charge of a mission
board and was carrying it on independently. Until our arrival she had
seen but one white person in a year and a half, was living entirely
upon Chinese food, and had tasted no butter or milk in months.
We had a delightful dinner with Miss Morgan and the next morning as our
caravan wound down the long hill past her house she stood at the window
to wave good-by. She kept her head behind the curtains, and doubtless
if we could have seen her face we would have found tears upon it, for
the evening with another woman of her kind had brought to her a breath
of the old life which she had resolutely forsaken and which so seldom
penetrated to her self-appointed exile.
On our ninth day from Yün-nan Fu we had a welcome bit of excitement. We
were climbing a long mountain trail to a pass over eight thousand feet
high and were near the summit when a boy dashed breathlessly up to the
caravan, jabbering wildly in Chinese. It required fifteen minutes of
questioning before we finally learned that bandits had attacked a big
caravan less than a mile ahead of us and were even then ransacking the
loads.
He said that there were two hundred and fifty of them and that they had
killed two _mafus_; almost immediately a second gesticulating Chinaman
appeared and gave the number as three hundred and fifty and the dead as
five. Allowing for the universal habit of exaggeration we felt quite
sure that there were not more than fifty, and subsequently learned that
forty was the correct number and that no one had been killed.
Our caravan was in a bad place to resist an attack but we got out our
rifles and made for a village at the top of the pass. There were not
more than a half dozen mud houses and in the narrow street between them
perfect bedlam reigned. Several small caravans had halted to wait for
us, and men, horses, loads, and chairs were packed and jammed together
so tightly that it seemed impossible ever to extricate them. Our
arrival added to the confusion, but leaving the _mafus_ to scream and
chatter among themselves, we scouted ahead to learn the true condition
of affairs.
Almost within sight we found the caravan which had been robbed. Paper
and cloth were strewn about, loads overturned, and loose mules wandered
over the hillside. The frightened _mafus_ were straggling back and
told us that about forty bandits had suddenly surrounded the caravan,
shooting and brandishing long knives. Instantly the _mafus_ had run
for their lives leaving the brigands to rifle the packs unmolested.
The goods chiefly belonged to the retiring mandarin of Li-chiang, and
included some five thousand dollars worth of jade and gold dust, all of
which was taken.
Yün-nan, like most of the outlying provinces of China, is infested
with brigands who make traveling very unsafe. There are, of course,
organized bands of robbers at all times, but these have been greatly
augmented since the rebellion by dismissed soldiers or deserters who
have taken to brigandage as the easiest means to avoid starvation.
The Chinese Government is totally unable to cope with the situation
and makes only half-hearted attempts to punish even the most flagrant
robberies, so that unguarded caravans carrying valuable material which
arrive at their destination unmolested consider themselves very lucky.
[Illustration: The Pagoda at Ta-li Fu]
[Illustration: The Dead of China]
So far as our expedition was concerned we did not feel great
apprehension for it was generally known that we carried but little
money and our equipment, except for guns, could not readily be disposed
of. Throughout the entire expedition we paid our _mafus_ and servants a
part of their wages in advance when they were engaged, and arranged to
have money sent by the mandarins or the British American Tobacco Co.,
to some large town which would be reached after several months. There
the balance on salaries was paid and we carried with us only enough
money for our daily needs.
Before we left Yün-nan Fu we were assured by the Foreign Office that we
would be furnished with a guard of soldiers--an honor few foreigners
escape! The first day out we had four, all armed with umbrellas! These
accompanied us to the first camp where they delivered their official
message to the _yamen_ and intrusted us to the care of others for our
next day's journey.
Sometimes they were equipped with guns of the vintage of 1872, but
their cartridges were seldom of the' same caliber as the rifles and in
most cases the ubiquitous umbrella was their only weapon. Just what
good they would be in a real attack it is difficult to imagine, except
to divert attention by breaking the speed limits in running away.
Several times in the morning we believed we had escaped them but they
always turned up in an hour or two. They were not so much a nuisance
as an expense, for custom requires that each be paid twenty cents
(Mexican) a day both going and returning. They are of some use in
lending an official aspect to an expedition and in requisitioning
anything which may be needed; also they act as an insurance policy, for
if a caravan is robbed a claim can be entered against the government,
whereas if the escort is refused the traveler has no redress.
It is amusing and often irritating to see the cavalier way in which
these men treat other caravans or the peasants along the road. Waving
their arms and shouting oaths they shoe horses, mules or chairs out of
the way regardless of the confusion into which the approaching caravan
may be thrown. They must also be closely watched for they are none too
honest and are prone to rely upon the moral support of foreigners to
take whatever they wish without the formality of payment.
We were especially careful to respect the property on which we camped
and to be just in all our dealings with the natives, but it was
sometimes difficult to prevent the _mafus_ or soldiers from tearing
down fences for firewood or committing similar depredations. Wherever
such acts were discovered we made suitable payment and punished the
offenders by deducting a part of their wages. Foreigners cannot respect
too carefully the rights of the peasants, for upon their conduct rests
the reception which will be accorded to all others who follow in their
footsteps.