From Szechwan into Yünnan
The boat in which we continued our journey down the Min River was
rather larger than the one we had previously, but still we could not
stand upright in it. It is not always easy to get just what you want
in the way of boats, especially at this time of year; but it was not a
long journey, although our men took about four times as long as they
ought to have done, and it was only by offering extra payment that we
managed to do it in two days. We had one piece of good luck on the way.
Our kind friends at Chengtu, when replenishing our stores, had lamented
the non-arrival of a large case of biscuits sent out by friends in
England, mentioning the name of the firm from which they were coming.
As we neared Sui Fu we were watching divers getting up cases which had
evidently been shipwrecked, and conspicuous amongst them was a large
case bearing the name referred to. On arrival at Sui Fu we reported
this at the mission station where we stayed, and learnt that they had
heard of the wreck and sent to inquire whether the case had been got
up. Shortly afterwards their messenger returned, saying that it could
not be found. Our information being explicit, we described exactly the
spot where we had seen the wreck, a few miles above the town; the man
was sent again and told that he _must_ bring the case, as we had seen
for ourselves that it had been got up. This time he returned in triumph
with it. Probably the divers thought that they would get a better price
by selling the contents, and if we had not seen it our friends would
not have seen it either.
The town of Sui Fu is most charmingly situated, lying at the junction
of the Yangtze and the Min rivers, and is enclosed in a fork between
the two, with beautiful hills rising above it. Its name is both spelt
and pronounced in various ways, to the great bewilderment of those who
address letters. It is Sui Fu, or Hsui Fu, or Sú Cheo, or Schow, or
Su Chau, or it may be rendered in various other ways. Well might the
London telegraph clerk say to my sister, “If you send a wire it is only
at your own risk,” in answer to my wire from Peking giving the Pekinese
spelling. It is a busy and flourishing place, and possesses a Roman
Catholic cathedral as well as a convent.
[Illustration: COPPER IMAGE, SUI FU]
A Roman Catholic priest is deeply interested in the local divinity,
which is certainly an interesting specimen of art, if nothing more; but
the priest is firmly persuaded that it is St. Thomas, and takes all
his friends to see it. The god is enshrined in a temple on a hillside
overlooking the town. It is a most beautiful situation, but somewhat
spoilt by the fact that it is entirely covered with graves. Hills are
frequently utilised for this purpose, and contain thousands of
graves. The gaudily painted figure is 18 feet high and 5½ feet broad,
made of fine red copper. It stands on a large bronze turtle, from
which, unfortunately, a good part has been stolen; the head alone is
in excellent preservation. It was erected some hundreds of years ago
by the Lolos or Ibien, an aboriginal tribe who then held possession of
this part of the country. They believed that he was a saint who came
over the seas on a turtle, and this certainly corresponds with the
legend of St. Thomas going to India. It is a very truculent-looking
saint, not lightly to be parted from his sword. The figure is well
fenced off from view by large bars, though one has been removed, so
that people can push through and get a closer look at him. While I was
busy sketching, a priest came up to look, with his long hair fastened
on the top of his head by a carved wooden pin. The priests do not
plait their hair, but simply twist it up into a sort of “bun.” A woman
came up with offerings--fowl, sweets, &c.--which, after they had
been offered to the god, she would take home and eat with the greater
relish. This is certainly a way of killing two birds with one stone,
as she was too poor to have eaten chicken on ordinary occasions. As we
came down the hill we met the chief mourner of a funeral, wearing the
coarsest sackcloth, which he could scarcely prevent from falling off,
as it is incorrect on such occasions to gird it round the waist.
We left Sui Fu on January 14th, _en route_ for Yünnan Fu, and felt
that the seasons had got strangely mixed up, as we wended our way
along the banks of the Yangtze. This part of it is called the “river
of the golden sand.” It is quite a misnomer, for it is as mud-coloured
as ever. The peas were in various stages of growth in the part of
the river-bed from which the water had subsided. Some looked lovely
with their white, pink, or plum-coloured blossoms; others were quite
small, only a few inches high; and others again we enjoyed for our
evening meal. The people were all busy harvesting the sugar-cane, and
we seemed to be the only persons here not chewing it. Our soldiers
surreptitiously stole it from the loads that were being carried along
the road. Beautiful orange groves on the steep slopes above the river
were full of ripe fruit. Men were busy preparing the soil for other
crops by breaking the sods with mallets after they had been ploughed.
The whole land is one great ceaseless field of labour, where every one
works from early childhood to extreme old age.
[Illustration: CORMORANTS ON THE CORMORANT RIVER]
On the fourth day’s journey we reached the borders of the province
of Yünnan. Our road parted from the Yangtze and ran for many days
parallel with a lovely river (of a deep blue-green colour like those in
the Pyrenees), whose course we followed from the point where it fell
into the Yangtze up to its birthplace in the mountains. Sometimes the
pathway winds high up the hillsides, and sometimes almost down to the
river’s edge. The cormorants were busy fishing--not for John Chinaman,
but for themselves. We had the merriest set of sturdy carriers,
who treated our weight as if it were a mere joke, and laughed and ran
with us, despite the roughness of the way, and rather to our terror
sometimes. They are much stronger than the ordinary Szechwan coolies.
Indeed, that is a necessity in the case of these roads, which are no
better than sheep-tracks in the Cumberland fells, despite their being
the great trade-route between the two largest provinces of Western
China. Day by day we revelled in the beauty of the scenery and its
ever-varying charms. There was subtler charm in them than there would
have been when the flowers are in blossom, for it was the moment
when the earth was awakening after its winter sleep; every twig was
beginning to change colour; the buds were swelling; the delicate fronds
of innumerable ferns were uncurling; the birds were hesitatingly trying
their notes; and the sun had not yet given the dazzling blue to the sky
which comes later on. It only illuminated and irradiated, but did not
dazzle the eyes. We felt that we had come exactly at the right moment,
for the weather was perfect for walking, and it was not nearly so cold
as we expected. The inns are not so bad as they have been described,
and we came on one where there was a beautiful large window--above the
pig-sty--overlooking the country, and the unwonted light had encouraged
travellers to make remarks on the walls in French, German, and English,
as well as Chinese.
After entering Yünnan we came to a substantial suspension-bridge,
made of eight parallel iron chains, and with chain hand-rails; but
the planks on it were strewn about in a desultory way, calculated to
upset unseasoned travellers. At either end of the bridge was a solid
block of masonry, surmounted by a temple through which the chains
passed and were buried deep into the ground. These bridges are often a
considerable length, and do not hang at a natural swing, but are drawn
up as tightly as possible with hawsers; which, of course, makes a heavy
strain upon the chains. This kind of bridge is to be found throughout
the province, and they always seem in good condition. We cannot help
wishing that a little of the engineer’s skill had also been expended
on the steep rough track which led up from the bridge. The roads are
apparently never mended, and in some places had fallen away, or had
been covered by a small landslip.
It was curious to see the change of vegetation when we crossed the
border, the poppy replacing the pea to a large extent. Yünnan is the
greatest opium-growing province in the Empire, and the best; but there
is already a perceptible diminution since the new anti-opium Acts.
We saw peas of various kinds, and one that is grown for making oil
is quite peculiar: the peas grow three together like a berry. As we
approached a somewhat barren district the men had to have a feast at
our expense, and in view of the future scarcity of their much-esteemed
pork, our soldiers had provided themselves with a large joint, which
I found in one of the coolies’ hats attached to the back of my
chair. They never scrupled to hang their dainties, besides an extensive
wardrobe, pipes, &c., on to our chairs, and as the day proceeded they
peeled off their coats till they had shed three or four at the least.
[Illustration: LAOWATAN RIVER]
We noticed an odd procession one day wending its way along the opposite
river-bank. First came a white banner with apparently two mourners;
then a few people carrying little pennons of various colours; then a
pig borne aloft on a shutter; then more boys and men carrying pennons;
the whole accompanied by the beating of drums. The procession was on
its way to a grave to pay homage to a dead ancestor, in which ceremony
the pig would be the _pièce de résistance_ at a sort of perennial feast
for the dead. Later on we met a procession carrying a corpse on a
stretcher, with no signs of mourning beyond a man strewing paper money
after it.
We followed the beautiful river Laowat’an as far as the village of
that name, and up to this point we were continually accompanied by
the unmelodious cries of trackers pulling large junks up the rapids;
beyond that point navigation is impossible. Laowat’an means “Cormorant
rapid,” and although it is quite a good-sized village, we found that
the only room at the inn was very small, filled with four dirty beds,
with no window, and close to the most noxious open drain. Having seen
in Little’s pamphlet about this journey that he had stayed at a native
evangelist’s house here, we took the hint and sent to see if we could
do likewise. We received an answer in the affirmative, and found that
the house was close by. Though the evangelist himself was not at home,
we were warmly welcomed by his wife. She took us to a nice large upper
room, with a most attractive window overlooking the street, which
was full of an amusing crowd busy marketing. One man’s occupation
appeared to be carrying a pipe round, from which people had a whiff
or two. We found our new quarters vastly more entertaining than the
inn, and held an interesting conversation with our hostess by means of
pictures and dumb-show, as we had no one to interpret. I hope we did
not tell many lies by mistake, but fear that it is not improbable. The
next morning we felt quite sorry to leave these nice people, who had
been so friendly to us. We were greatly struck with the fine poultry
all through this district. My Aberdonian poulterer would with great
justice describe them as “some fine beasts.” There are the handsomest
pure white and coal-black hens, besides fowls of various colours. The
eggs, too, are a splendid size, and are to be obtained everywhere.
The peculiarity of the fowls is that many of them have black skins
and black bones, which are most unappetising to look at, but they are
considered the best kind for eating. There were plenty of vegetables,
pears, oranges, and peanuts to be had, and so far we could see no signs
of the dearth of food of which we had heard such alarming accounts.
There are everywhere pigs in abundance: some of them are a curious fawn
colour.
[Illustration: OUR MILITARY ESCORT]
[Illustration: “ORPHAN SPIRIT” SHRINE]
We crossed a fine suspension-bridge after leaving Laowat’an, and took a
path leading upwards for about a couple of hours over the mountains. A
light for the “orphan spirits” might well be needed on such a road. The
chair-carriers found it difficult work, and we got on much more quickly
on our own feet; though the coolies made no suggestion that we should
walk, despite the fact that we had authorised them to do so whenever
the road was difficult. They are so willing and attentive in performing
any little service--such as cleaning one’s boots after walking through
a quagmire--that one the more gladly saves them when the road is stiff.
One coolie fell and wrenched his knee rather badly, but he went on most
uncomplainingly, and showed intense gratitude on getting it bathed
and bandaged. In fact, from this time on he was our devoted slave. We
were interested to meet quite a new god in this region. He has three
faces, and often wears a large stone hat. He is carved in stone, and
stands by the roadside like a little milestone at intervals all along
the way; but frequently there are no signs of worship about him. He is
called by the Buddhist formula “O mi to fu,” and is worshipped by the
coolies to prevent their getting sore feet, so they frequently burn
sandals (quite new ones) before him, and incense sticks may be seen in
front of his image. Day by day we went up and down the most precipitous
places, gradually rising to the Yünnan plateau. The road grew worse and
worse, being much injured by the long trains of pack-animals. Ponies,
mules, and donkeys are driven in parties of from ten to thirty; and
not only do they make the road full of little round holes, but also
they are a dreadful hindrance, frequently completely blocking the way.
The path, besides, has large round stones embedded in it, which are
polished by the coolies’ sandals till they shine like porphyry. One day
we met dozens of mules going down a breakneck zigzag staircase in the
rocks, and we were bespattered by them with mud from head to toe, being
compelled to wait while they went past. How they keep their footing it
is hard to tell, and it is sad to see their sore backs when their loads
are off. The loads being carried are of a most varied description:
copper, tin, coal, salt, skins, spices, chillies, armadillo skins,
paper, bowls, opium, and later in the season large quantities of the
wax insect “larvæ.” In a recent official report the road from Sui Fu to
Chaotung is described as one of the worst in the Empire, but it is good
compared with others in the north of the same province. The Chinese
have given picturesque names to some of these bad ones, such as “The
King of Hell’s Slide,” the “Gate to Hell,” the “Last Look at Home,” the
“Place where the Soul is Lost.” Describing this road on the borders of
Babuland, where the Lolos live, S. Pollard writes that from one spot he
counted no fewer than sixty towers of refuge.
[Illustration: TOWER OF REFUGE]
[Illustration: “OMI TO FU” SHRINE]
For ten days we followed the course of the Laowat’an, or Taquan River,
till at last we traced it to its source where it gushes out of a hole
from the bowels of the mountain as quite a large, brawling stream
in a sort of cul-de-sac of the hill. Its banks are frequented by the
ubiquitous wagtail, the fierce-eyed cormorant, and the most cheery
little blackbird with a white cap and black-tipped chestnut tail, which
it flirts as assiduously as the water wagtail does. In one part there
was a fine limestone crag overshadowing the river, and high up in its
ledges there are still to be seen dilapidated fragments of coffins,
said to date back as far as the time of the Ming dynasty. How they
were conveyed to such a position it is difficult to conceive. For an
hour after leaving the stream we climbed laboriously up the hillside
till we were swallowed in the mist, and at last emerged into quite a
different and much more familiar landscape, a bog moorland, on which
were scattered thatched cottages from which a pleasant smell of burning
peat greeted our nostrils. We felt as if we were suddenly transported
to Ireland. We sat down to rest by a cottage where a woman was selling
inviting-looking sweets, and she was as pleased as our men were when we
distributed them among the party. They were made of the nuts and sugar
grown in the neighbourhood. Not an hour before, we had left groups of
bamboos and tall fan palms, and the contrast of the new country was
certainly very startling. The cottagers looked poor and scantily clad,
and from this point on they seemed to be poorer and poorer looking.
[Illustration: WHA MIAO]
All the next day we gradually descended towards the city of Chaotung,
and it appeared to be a specially auspicious day for pig-killing (the
people are very particular in such matters), in preparation for their
New Year festivities. Every house almost that we passed that morning
was the scene of these preparations, and the keenest interest and
expectation was depicted on every face but our own. Our coolies would
have dearly loved to stop to watch the entertainment, but, as may be
supposed, we did not allow this.
[Illustration: MIAO WOMAN]
The prefectural town of Chaotung was reached after passing through
a dull plain, across which a piercing wind was blowing, which is
characteristic of this district. It is an interesting little place,
and is much frequented by many of the Miao (aboriginal tribes) in
their picturesque dress. The Wha Miaos (= flowery Miao) are so called
because of the colour of their dress, which is dyed blue and red by
an ingenious method of stencilling the cloth, using beeswax to make
the design. They are totally unlike the Chinese, the only point of
similarity being the wearing of the pigtail by the men; but they have a
religion and language of their own, and keep absolutely aloof from the
Chinese. The women, when married, wear their hair erected into a horn,
which sticks out from the side of the head; but as soon as they have
children the horn is erected straight up from the top. They are very
shy people, but as I was anxious to get a sketch of a woman, I got the
missionary to persuade her to sing while I made a few notes. She was
dressed in a pretty red and blue garment, with a large felt cape
over it, and wore a full short petticoat of blue and white. Both men
and women wear gaiters and loose leather boots, and the men’s sleeves
are looped up in a picturesque way as in the accompanying sketch. The
women carry their babies slung on their backs.