TA-LI FU
On Friday, September 28, we were at Chou Chou and camped in a
picturesque little temple on the outskirts of the town. As the last
stage was only six hours we spent half the morning in taking moving
pictures of the caravan and left for Ta-li at eleven-thirty after an
early =tiffin=.
About two o'clock in the afternoon we reached Hsia-kuan, a large
commercial town at the lower end of the lake. Its population largely
consists of merchants and it is by all means the most important
business place of interior Yün-nan; Ta-li, eight miles away, is the
residence and official city.
At Hsia-kuan we called upon the salt commissioner, Mr. Lui, to whom Mr.
Bode, the salt inspector at Yün-nan Fu, had very kindly telegraphed
money for my account, and after the usual tea and cigarettes we went
oil to Ta-li Fu over a perfectly level paved road, which was so
slippery that it was well-nigh impossible for either horse or man to
move over it faster than a walk.
This was the hottest day of our experience in Northern Yün-nan,
the thermometer registering 85°+ in the shade, which is the usual
mid-summer temperature, but the moment the sun dropped behind the
mountains it was cool enough for one to enjoy a fire. Even in the
winter it is never very cold and its delightful summer should make
Northern Yün-nan a wonderful health resort for the residents of
fever-stricken Burma and Tonking.
We rode toward Ta-li with the beautiful lake on our right hand and on
the other the Ts'ang Shan mountains which rise to a height of fourteen
thousand feet. As we approached the city we could see dimly outlined
against the foothills the slender shafts of three ancient pagodas. They
were erected to the _feng-shui_, the spirits of the "earth, wind, and
water," and for fifteen hundred years have stood guard over the stone
graves which, in countless thousands, are spread along the foot of the
mountains like a vast gray blanket. In the late afternoon sunlight the
walls of the city seemed to recede before us and the picturesque gate
loomed shadowy and unreal even when we passed through its gloomy arch
and clattered up the stone-paved street.
We soon discovered the residence of Mr. H. G. Evans, agent of the
British American Tobacco Company, to whose care our first caravan had
been consigned, and he very hospitably invited us to remain with him
while we were in Ta-li Fu. This was only the beginning of Mr. Evans'
assistance to the Expedition, for he acted as its banker throughout our
stay in Yün-nan, cashing checks and transferring money for us whenever
we needed funds.
The British American Tobacco Company and the Standard Oil Company of
New York are veritable "oases in the desert" for travelers because
their agencies are found in the most out-of-the-way spots in Asia and
their employees are always ready to extend the cordial hospitality of
the East to wandering foreigners.
Besides Mr. Evans the white residents of Ta-li Fu include the Reverend
William J. Hanna, his wife and two other ladies, all of the China
Inland Mission. Mr. Hanna is doing a really splendid work, especially
along educational and medical lines. He has built a beautiful little
chapel, a large school, and a dispensary in connection with his house,
where he and his wife are occupied every morning treating the minor
ills of the natives, Christian and heathen alike.
Ta-li Fu was the scene of tremendous slaughter at the time of the
Mohammedan war, when the Chinese captured the city through the
treachery of its commander and turned the streets to rivers of blood.
The Mohammedans were almost exterminated, and the ruined stone walls
testify to the completeness of the Chinese devastation.
The mandarin at Ta-li Fu was good-natured but dissipated and corrupt.
He called upon us the evening of our arrival and almost immediately
asked if we had any shotgun cartridges. He remarked that he had a gun
but no shells, and as we did not offer to give him any he continued to
hint broadly at every opportunity.
The mandarins of lower rank often buy their posts and depend upon what
they can make in "squeeze" from the natives of their district for
reimbursement and a profit on their investment. In almost every case
which is brought to them for adjustment the decision is withheld until
the magistrate has learned which of the parties is prepared to offer
the highest price for a settlement in his favor. The Chinese peasant,
accepting this as the established custom, pays the bribe without a
murmur if it is not too exorbitant and, in fact, would be exceedingly
surprised if "justice" were dispensed in any other way.
My personal relations with the various mandarins whom I was constantly
required to visit officially were always of the pleasantest and I was
treated with great courtesy. It was apparent wherever we were in China
that there was a total lack of antiforeign feeling in both the peasant
and official classes and except for the brigands, who are beyond the
law, undoubtedly white men can travel in perfect safety anywhere in
the republic. Before my first official visit Wu gave me a lesson in
etiquette. The Chinese are exceedingly punctilious and it is necessary
to conform to their standards of politeness for they do not realize, or
accept in excuse, the fact that Western customs differ from their own.
At the end of the reception room in every _yamen_ is a raised platform
on which the visitor sits at the _left hand_ of the mandarin; it would
be exceedingly rude for a magistrate to seat the caller on his right
hand. Tea is always served immediately but is not supposed to be tasted
until the official does so himself; the cup must then be lifted to
the lips with both hands. Usually when the magistrate sips his tea
it is a sign that the interview is ended. When leaving, the mandarin
follows his visitor to the doorway of the outer court, while the latter
continually bows and protests asking him not to come so far.
Ta-li Fu and Hsia-kuan are important fur markets and we spent some time
investigating the shops. One important find was the panda (_Ælurus
fulgens_). The panda is an aberrant member of the raccoon family
but looks rather like a fox; in fact the Chinese call it the "fire
fox" because of its beautiful, red fur. Pandas were supposed to be
exceedingly rare and we could hardly believe it possible when we saw
dozens of coats made from their skins hanging in the fur shops.
[Illustration: The Residence of Rev. William J. Hanna at Ta-li Fu]
[Illustration: The Gate and Main Street of Ta-li Fu]
Skins of the huge red-brown flying squirrel, _Petaurista yunnanensis_,
were also used for clothing and the abundance of this animal was
almost as great a surprise as the finding of the pandas. This is often
true in the case of supposedly rare species. A few specimens may be
obtained from the extreme limits of its range, or from a locality where
it really is rare, and for years it may be almost unique in museum
collections but eventually the proper locality may be visited and the
animals found to be abundant.
We saw several skins of the beautiful cat (_Felis temmincki_) which,
with the snow leopard (_Felis uncia_), it was said came from Tibet.
Civets, bears, foxes, and small cats were being used extensively for
furs and pangolins could be purchased in the medicine shops. The scales
of the pangolin are considered to be of great value in the treatment of
certain diseases and the skins are usually sold by the pound as are the
horns of deer, wapiti, gorals, and serows.
Almost all of the fossil animals which have been obtained in China
by foreigners have been purchased in apothecary shops. If a Chinaman
discovers a fossil bed he guards it zealously for it represents an
actual gold mine to him. The bones are ground into a fine powder, mixed
with an acid, and a phosphate obtained which in reality has a certain
value as a tonic. When a considerable amount of faith and Chinese
superstition is added its efficacy assumes double proportions.
Every year a few tiger skins find their way to Hsia-kuan from the
southern part of the province along the Tonking border, but the good
ones are quickly sold at prices varying from twenty-five to fifty
dollars (Mexican). Ten dollars is the usual price for leopard skins.
Marco Polo visited Ta-li Fu in the thirteenth century and, among other
things, he speaks of the fine horses from this part of the province.
We were surprised to find that the animals are considerably larger and
more heavily built than those of Yün-nan Fu and appear to be better
in every way. A good riding horse can be purchased for seventy-five
dollars (Mexican) but mules are worth about one hundred and fifty
dollars because they are considered better pack animals.
On the advice of men who had traveled much in the interior of Yün-nan
we hired our caravan and riding animals instead of buying them
outright, and subsequent experience showed the wisdom of this course.
Saddle ponies, which are used only for short trips about the city,
cannot endure continual traveling over the execrable roads of the
interior where often it is impossible to feed them properly. If an
entire caravan were purchased the leader of the expedition would have
unceasing trouble with the _mafus_ to insure even ordinary care of the
animals, an opportunity would be given for endless "squeeze" in the
purchase of food, and there are other reasons too numerous to mention
why in this province the plan is impracticable.
However, the caravan ponies do try one's patience to the limit. They
are trained only to follow a leader, and if one happens to be behind
another horse it is well-nigh impossible to persuade it to pass. Beat
or kick the beast as one will, it only backs up or crowds closely
to the horse in front. On the first day out Heller, who was on a
particularly bad animal, when trying to pass one of us began to cavort
about like a circus rider, prancing from side to side and backward but
never going forward. We shouted that we would wait for him to go on but
he replied helplessly, "I can't, this horse isn't under my management,"
and we found very soon that our animals were not under our management
either!
In a town near Ta-li Fu we were in front of the caravan with Wu and
Heller: Wu stopped to buy a basket of mushrooms but his horse refused
to move ahead. Beat as he would, the animal only backed in a circle,
ours followed, and in a few moments we were packed together so tightly
that it was impossible even to dismount. There we sat, helpless, to the
huge delight of the villagers until rescued by a _mafu_. As soon as he
led Wu's horse forward the others proceeded as quietly as lambs.
We paid forty cents (Mexican) a day for each animal while traveling,
and fifteen or twenty cents when in camp, but the rate varies somewhat
in different parts of the province, and in the west and south, along
the Burma border fifty cents is the usual price. When a caravan is
engaged the necessary _mafus_ are included and they buy food for
themselves and beans and hay for the animals.
Ever since leaving Yün-nan Fu the cook we engaged at Paik-hoi had
been a source of combined irritation and amusement. He was a lanky,
effeminate gentleman who never before had ridden a horse, and who was
physically and mentally unable to adapt himself to camp life. After
five months in the field he appeared to be as helpless when the caravan
camped for the night as when we first started, and he would stand
vacantly staring until someone directed him what to do. But he was a
good cook, when he wished to exert himself, and had the great asset of
knowing a considerable amount of English. While we were in Ta-li Fu Mr.
Evans overheard him relating his experiences on the road to several of
the other servants. "Of course," said the cook, "it is a fine way to
see the country, but the riding! My goodness, that's awful! After the
third day I didn't know whether to go on or turn back--I was so sore I
couldn't sit down even on a chair to say nothing of a horse!"
He had evidently fully made up his mind not to "see the country" that
way for the day after we left Ta-li Fu _en route_ to the Tibetan
frontier he became violently ill. Although we could find nothing the
matter with him he made such a good case for himself that we believed
he really was quite sick and treated him accordingly. The following
morning, however, he sullenly refused to proceed, and we realized that
his illness was of the mind rather than the body. As he had accepted
two months' salary in advance and had already sent it to his wife in
Paik-hoi, we were in a position to use a certain amount of forceful
persuasion which entirely accomplished its object and illness did not
trouble him thereafter.
The loss of a cook is a serious matter to a large expedition. Good
meals and varied food must be provided if the personnel is to work at
its highest efficiency and cooking requires a vast amount of thought
and time. In Yün-nan natives who can cook foreign food are by no means
easy to find and when our Paik-hoi gentleman finally left us upon
our return to Ta-li Fu we were fortunate in obtaining an exceedingly
competent man to take his place through the good offices of Mr. Hanna.