THE "WHITE WATER"
_Y. B. A._
October had slipped into November when we left the temple and shifted
camp to the other side of the Snow Mountain at the "White Water." It
was a brilliant day and the ride up the valley could not have been more
beautiful. Crossing the _gangheisa_ or "dry sea," a great grassy plain
which was evidently a dry lake basin, we followed the trail into the
forest and down the side of a deep cañon to a mountain stream where
the waters spread themselves in a thin, green veil over a bed of white
stones.
We pitched our tents on a broad terrace beside the stream at the
edge of the spruce forest. Above us towered the highest peak of the
mountain, with a glacier nestling in a basin near its summit, and the
snow-covered slopes extending in a glorious shining crescent about our
camp. The moon was full, and each night as we sat at dinner before the
fire, the ragged peaks turned crimson in the afterglow of the sun, and
changed to purest silver at the touch of the white moonlight. We have
had many camps in many lands but none more beautiful than the one at
the "White Water."
The weather was perfect. Every day the sun shone in a cloudless blue
sky and in the morning the ground was frozen hard and covered with
snowlike frost, but the air was marvelously stimulating. We felt that
we could be happy at the "White Water" forever, but it did not prove to
be as good a hunting ground as that on the other side of the mountain.
The Lolos killed a fine serow on the first day and Hotenfa brought in a
young goral a short time later, but big game was by no means abundant.
At the "White Water" we obtained our first Lady Amherst's pheasant
(_Thaumalea amherstiæ_) one of the most remarkable species of a family
containing the most beautiful birds of the world. The rainbow colored
body and long tail of the male are made more conspicuous by a broad
white and green ruff about the neck. The first birds brought alive to
England were two males which had been presented to the Countess Amherst
after whom the species was named. We found this pheasant inhabiting
thick forests where it is by no means easy to discover or shoot. It is
fairly abundant in Yün-nan, Eastern Tibet and S'suchuan but its habits
are not well known. Although the camp yielded several small mammals
new to our collection, we decided to go into Li-chiang to engage a new
caravan for our trip across the Yangtze River while Heller remained in
camp.
The direct road to Li-chiang was considerably shorter than by way of
the Snow Mountain village and at three o'clock in the afternoon our
beloved "Temple of the Flowers" was visible on the hilltop overlooking
the city. As we rode up the steep ascent we saw a picturesque gathering
on the porch and heard the sound of many voices laughing and talking.
The beautiful garden-like courtyard was filled with women and children
of every age and description, and all the doors from one side of
the temple had been removed, leaving a large open space where huge
cauldrons were boiling and steaming.
We sat down irresolutely on the inner porch but the young priest was
delighted to see us and insisted that we wait until Wu arrived. We
were glad that we did not seek other quarters for we were to witness
an interesting ceremony, which is most characteristic of Chinese life.
It seemed that about five years before a gentleman of Li-chiang had
"shuffled off this mortal coil." His soul may have found rest, but "his
mortal coil" certainly did not. Unfortunately his family inherited a
few hundred dollars several years later and the village "astrologer"
informed them that according to the _feng-shui_, or omnipotent
spirits of the earth, wind, and water, the situation of the deceased
gentleman's grave was ill-chosen and that if they ever hoped to enjoy
good fortune again they must dig him up, give the customary feast in
his honor and have another burial site chosen.
Every village has a "wise man" who is always called upon to select the
resting place of the dead, his remuneration varying from two dollars to
two thousand dollars according to the circumstances of the deceased's
relatives. The astrologer never will say definitely whether or not
the spot will prove a propitious one and if the family later sell any
property, receive a legacy, or are known to have obtained money in
other ways, the astrologer usually finds that the _feng-shui_ do not
favor the original place and he will exact another fee for choosing a
second grave.
The dead are never buried until the astrologer has named an auspicious
day as well as an appropriate site, with the result that unburied
coffins are to be seen in temples, under roadside shelters, in the
fields and in the back yards of many houses.
Any interference by foreigners with this custom is liable to bring
about dire results as in the case of the rioting in Shanghai in 1898. A
number of French residents objected to a temple near by being used to
store a score or more of bodies until a convenient time for burial and
the result was the death of many people in the fighting which ensued.
Mr. Tyler Dennet cites an amusing anecdote regarding the successful
handling of the problem by a native mandarin in Yen-ping where we
visited Mr. Caldwell:
The doctor pointed out how dangerous to public health was the
presence of these coffins in Yen-ping. The magistrate had a census
taken of the coffins above ground in the city and found that they
actually numbered sixteen thousand. The city itself is estimated to
have only about twenty thousand inhabitants.
It was a difficult problem for the magistrate. He might easily move
in such a way as to bring the whole city down about his head. But
the Chinese are clever in such situations, perhaps the cleverest
people on earth. He finally devised a way out. A proclamation was
issued levying a tax of fifty cents on every unburied coffin. The
Chinese may be superstitious, but they are even more thrifty. For a
few weeks Yen-ping devoted itself to funerals, a thousand a week,
and now this little city, one of the most isolated in China, can
truly be said to be on the road to health.[4]
[Footnote 4: "Doctoring China," by Tyler Dennet, _Asia_, February,
1918, p. 114.]
[Illustration: The "White Water"]
There are very few such progressive cities in China, however, and a
missionary told us that recently a young child and his grandfather were
buried on the same day although their deaths had been nearly fifty
years apart. The funeral rites are in themselves fairly simple, but it
is the great ambition of every Chinese to have his resting place as
near as possible to those of his ancestors. That is one of the reasons
why they are so loath to emigrate.
We often passed eight or ten coolies staggering under the load of a
heavy coffin, transporting a body sometimes a month's journey or more
to bury it at the dead man's birthplace. A rooster usually would be
fastened to the coffin for, according to the Yün-nan superstition, the
spirit of the man enters the bird and is conveyed by it to his home.
There is a strange absence of the fear of death among the Chinese. One
often sees large planks of wood stored in a corner of a house and one
is told that these are destined to become the coffins of the man's
father or mother, even though his parents may at the time be enjoying
the most robust health. Indeed, among the poorer classes, a coffin is
considered a most fitting gift for a son to present to his father.
We established our camp on the porch of the temple at Li-chiang and
from its vantage point could watch the festivities going on about us.
The feasting continued until after dark and at daylight the kettles
were again steaming to prepare for the second day's celebration.
By ten o'clock the court was crowded and a hour later there came a
partial stillness which was broken by a sudden burst of music (?) from
Chinese violins and pipes. Going outside we found most of the guests
standing about an improvised altar. The foot of the coffin was just
visible in the midst of the paper decorations and in front of it
were set half a dozen dishes of tempting food. These were meant as an
offering to the spirit of the departed one, but we knew this would not
prevent the sorrowing relatives from eating the food with much relish
later on.
In a few moments a group of women approached, supporting a figure
clothed in white with a hood drawn over her face. She was bent nearly
to the ground and muffled shrieks and wails came from the depths of
her veil as she prostrated herself in front of the altar. For more
than an hour this chief mourner, the wife of the deceased, lay on her
face, her whole figure shaking with what seemed the most uncontrollable
anguish. This same lady, however, moved about later among her guests an
amiable hostess, with beaming countenance, the gayest of the gay. But
every morning while the festivities lasted, promptly at eleven o'clock
she would prostrate herself before the coffin and display heartrending
grief in the presence of the unmoved spectators in order to satisfy the
demands of "custom."
Custom and precedent have grown to be divinities with the Chinese, and
such a display of feigned emotion is required on certain prescribed
occasions. As one missionary aptly described it "the Chinese are all
face and no heart." Mr. Caldwell told us that one night while passing
down a deserted street in a Chinese village he was startled to hear the
most piercing shrieks issuing from a house nearby. Thinking someone
was being murdered, he rushed through the courtyard only to find that
a girl who was to be married the following day, according to Chinese
custom, was displaying the most desperate anguish at the prospect of
leaving her family, even though she probably was enchanted with the
idea.
On the third day of the celebration in the temple at Li-chiang the
feasting ended in a burst of splendor. From one o'clock until far past
sundown the friends and relatives of the departed one were fed. Any
person could receive an invitation by bringing a small present, even
if it were only a bowl of rice or a few hundred cash (ten or fifteen
cents).
All during the morning girls and women flocked up the hill with trays
of gifts. There were many Mosos and other tribesmen among them as well
as Chinese. The Moso girls wore their black hair cut short on the
sides and hanging in long narrow plaits down their backs. They wore
white leather capes (at least that was the original shade) and pretty
ornaments of silver and coral at their throats, and as they were young
and gay with glowing red cheeks and laughing eyes they were decidedly
attractive. The guests were seated in groups of six on the stones
of the temple courtyard. Small boys acted as waiters, passing about
steaming bowls of vegetables and huge straw platters heaped high with
rice. As soon as each guest had stuffed himself to satisfaction he
relinquished his place to someone else and the food was passed again.
We were frequently pressed to eat with them and in the evening when the
last guest had departed the "chief mourner" brought us some delicious
fruit candied in black sugar. She told Wu that they had fed three
hundred people during the day and we could well believe it. The next
morning the coffin was carried down the hill to the accompaniment of
anguished wails and we were left once more to the peace and quiet of
our beautiful temple courtyard.
Sometimes a family will plunge itself into debt for generations to come
to provide a suitable funeral for one of its members, because to bury
the dead without the proper display would not only be to "lose face"
but subject them to the possible persecution of the angered spirits.
This is only one of the pernicious results of ancestor worship and it
is safe to say that most of the evils in China's social order today can
be traced, directly or indirectly, to this unfortunate practice.
A man's chief concern is to leave male descendants to worship at
his grave and appease his spirit. The more sons, grandsons, and
great-grandsons who walk in his funeral procession, the more he is to
be envied. As a missionary humorously says "the only law of God that
ever has been obeyed in China is to be fruitful and multiply." Craving
for progeny has brought into existence thousands upon thousands of
human beings who exist on the very brink of starvation. Nowhere in
the civilized world is there a more sordid and desperate struggle to
maintain life or a more hopeless poverty. But fear and self-love oblige
them to continue their blind breeding. The apparent atrophy of the
entire race is due to ancestor worship which binds it with chains of
iron to its dead and to its past, and not until these bonds are severed
can China expect to take her place among the progressive nations of the
earth.