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]