The Road to Yünnan Fu
After a couple of days’ halt we started for the capital, with new
coolies for the most part--fine, strong men--who had arranged to do
the twelve days’ stages at four taels per man, with the additional
inducement of a pork-feast on New Year’s Day. The first day we passed
through somewhat uninteresting country, but then we climbed up amongst
the mountains and reached one specially fine point of view, from which
we saw five ranges, one beyond the other, and to the west a lovely
snow range. From there we made our way down a most precipitous slope
to the bottom of a valley, where a noisy brook was spanned by one of
the fascinating iron suspension-bridges. This bridge is composed of
eight parallel thick iron chains with connecting links, and the masonry
at each end is very fine. The hand-rails were decorated with graphic
carvings of monkeys and other apocryphal beasts at each end. The little
village was eminently picturesque, and the willows were already in
their delicate spring green, contrasting well with the stiff blue-green
prickly pears. Coming down the slope, our eyes had feasted on the sight
of pink fruit blossom, and on the farther side of the stream we came
next day to dazzling white pear-trees. Certain shrubs blossom even
while snow is on the ground, and this is a favourite _motif_ both in
Chinese and in Japanese art.
[Illustration: UPLAND VILLAGE]
[Illustration: UH CHAI]
All the trees were beginning to bud, and the birds to sing and mate,
although it was only the end of January. As we neared Tungchwan Yun
we saw various new species of birds, and especially large numbers
of cranes, mainly grey, but some white, and one solitary black one
standing alone on the edge of the stream, as their habit is. The first
view of the city is picturesque, as it is seen from the high hills
overlooking the plain full of rice-fields. The city nestles under the
farther hillside and looks as if it could be reached in an hour or so,
whereas it takes at least three times as long. In a village at the
foot of the hill the preparations for the New Year were in full swing.
Every door was being cleaned for the new gods to be pasted up together
with mottoes and other decorations. Great washing was going on in a
large puddle in the middle of the village; clothes, bowls, cooking
utensils, fowls for the feast, vegetables, &c. Close by were large
flocks of wild ducks, teal, and other birds, which made one’s mouth
water to see, now that we had reached a part of the country where the
residents can rarely get anything except pork and fowls in the way of
meat. Tungchwan is quite pretty, owing both to its situation and to the
number of trees in it. Also it looked remarkably clean and bright with
its decorations, red, orange, blue, and gold, on all the doors; but
that may have been merely because it was New Year’s Eve (January 31st).
There was much less noise of crackers all night than we had expected,
and we were told that the custom of keeping New Year’s Day is much less
formally observed than it used to be. Nothing would have induced our
coolies, however, to travel that day, and all the shops were closed,
and people were walking about in their new clothes and cleanly shaven.
We went to see a Confucian temple on the outskirts of the town, which
had evidently been visited by the scholars of the place, and in which
there were little heaps of offerings, each consisting of five oranges
in front of every tablet. There were a number of courtyards and some
fine trees in them, especially some interesting specimens of the
sensitive tree.--If you scratch the trunk every twig quivers. There
are a great many insect trees throughout the whole district, in which
the white wax insect is bred. Before they come out of the trunk little
bunches of straw about the size of two fingers are tied to it, in
which the larvæ are afterwards found. We were very sorry that lack of
time prevented our making an excursion into the neighbouring district,
which is inhabited by aboriginal tribes. The Wesleyan missionaries
have been civilising some of these people, and one of their number
has successfully reduced the Miao language to writing by an ingenious
adaptation of Pitman’s shorthand system. The tribesmen are able to
read and write in a few weeks, and have taken to writing letters to
one another like ducks to water. There are many different tribes
among the mountains, some very shy and unapproachable, and with curious
customs of their own. A member of the mission described to us a curious
race that takes place in Bábú land where the Manzas live, but which
had never been visited before by European women. The course is strewn
with the feathers of fowls, and the men wear very full, short, circular
dark capes, and a sort of crest on their heads. Then they put their
ponies at full gallop, and extend their arms so that they look like
eagles with extended wings as they sweep round the course _ventre à
terre_, enveloped in a cloud of feathers and dust. Some of the tribes
are very wild; not infrequently the Lolos or Ibien, as they prefer to
be called, kidnap the Chinese and make them pay a heavy ransom, so
that little towers of refuge are built in this district. The number of
these aboriginal tribes is probably unknown to any one; we always heard
conflicting accounts of them, and until recently no systematic attempt
has been made to approach them. Hosie describes how difficult it was
even to catch a glimpse of any of them when they were close beside the
road, as they lurk in the bushes to try and see others, themselves
unseen.
[Illustration: YÜNNAN HAT]
[Illustration: LOLO WOMAN]
When we left Tungchwan the following morning we passed a temple at the
entrance of which the tutelary gods and horses, larger than life-size,
stand on either side in heavily barred halls, looking most ferocious.
The gentry of the place have recently erected a new temple to the God
of Riches, which we only saw from a distance. This has been done by
means of a lottery, and perhaps the choice of a god is due to the great
poverty of the district, where the people are always on the verge
of starvation, and where a poor harvest means utter ruin to a large
number. The result of this state of things shows itself in a repulsive
way, for infanticide is extremely prevalent. In one hamlet near which
we passed no fewer than thirty-three baby girls were thrown out
recently in a single year; though it looked such a small place that I
should not have imagined so many babies had been born in it altogether
in the time. We were told that it was by no means uncommon to see such
babies lying in the fields, and we were dreadfully exercised to know
what we should do if we found one alive. Happily, our sense of humanity
was not put to the test. We travelled through a long valley all day
under a very hot sun, and longed for thinner clothing.
Next day we climbed the greater part of the way up precipitous hills
in a cold, wet mist, longing for warmer winter clothes. Soon our
hair was white like the bushes with rime, and we were truly thankful
to be saved from the piercing wind which is usually found on these
particular heights. The coolies are extremely superstitious about this
wind, and would not dare to say anything in the way of complaint for
fear the spirits should hear, even if it blew a hurricane. They are
often obliged to turn round and wait till the fierce blasts are over;
so they told us. The ice was so thick on our hair that we had to take
it down before we could get it free from ice, and our clothes were
thoroughly wetted with it. For a couple of days the cold continued
somewhat severe; then we got into the hot sunshine again, and even with
a wind to refresh us we found travelling too hot. The hedges reminded
one more of home, and there was a flowering tree not unlike hawthorn;
also the hedges were full of cotoneaster, rose-bushes, and clematis.
[Illustration: BRIDEGROOM]
[Illustration: FUNERAL PAGODA]
The last three days of the journey to the capital are comparatively
uninteresting across the plain, but we saw a quaint wedding journey
as we left the hill country. First came four musicians, making a
noise extremely like a bad performance on the pipes. Next rode the
bridegroom, heavily adorned with scarlet and pink rosettes and sashes;
his pony also decorated with scarlet, followed by a couple of men
riding. Then came the scarlet wedding sedan-chair, sadly dilapidated
by age and neglect, conveying the bride. She was followed by a finely
dressed woman, riding, and one or two other people. Lastly came the
bride’s furniture--a very meagre supply of two chests and small boxes.
We reached her destination before she did, and found the village
awaiting her. In the street was a table spread as an altar, on which
were two vases full of wild camellias, a vase of incense, and a tray
containing three bowls of rice, one bowl of pork, with chopsticks
standing erect in it, and two small bowls of spirit. In front of the
table was a mat for prostration, and at each side of the street a bench
with a red mat over it. When the cortège arrived we were among the
onlookers, which seemed by no means acceptable to the people. After
waiting for a few minutes and exchanging greetings, the whole party
retired into the house, the bride being most carefully lifted out of
her chair in as secret a manner as possible. We were much disappointed
to see nothing of the ceremony, but Mr. Ku told us that evidently they
had no intention of doing anything whilst strangers were looking on,
so we had reluctantly to withdraw. As we heard that the wedding lasts
three days, and that the guests are expected to sit and talk and eat
each day from about 10 A.M. to 6 P.M., we comforted ourselves with the
thought that it was better to see nothing than to endure that, and
went away to our two-storied inn (the second that we have met), where
we inhabited the attic with the fowls. This inn was so costly that our
coolies had to go elsewhere, as we paid the exorbitant price of 2½d.
each for board, bed, and bedding. Needless to say, the first and last
items were of no use to us.
In one village we saw an interesting tall paper pagoda meant to be
burnt at a funeral. It was painted mainly red. Throughout the empire
it is customary to see extraordinary paper horses, servants, &c., as
part of the requisites for a rich person’s funeral. They are burnt at
the grave, and are supposed to go to the other world with the spirit of
the deceased, for his use. It is only rich people, who possess horses,
servants, &c., for whom they are provided. As white is the colour
of mourning in China, these models are made of white paper on light
bamboo frames. Not infrequently I have seen a white cock in a basket on
a coffin that is being taken to the grave, as the white cock is called
a “spiritual” or “divine” fowl and is supposed to guide the spirit
of the dead. These customs are already being superseded amongst the
educated Chinese, and they are following our European plan of having
flowers at funerals.
In the Viceroy Chang Chih-Tung’s interesting book, “China’s Only Hope,”
he arrives at a curious conclusion upon this point. He says: “Although
they [Europeans] have no such things as ancestral halls and tablets
of deceased relatives, in lieu of these they place the photographs of
their dead parents and brothers [note the absence of sisters!] on the
tables in their houses and make offerings of them. And while they make
no sacrifices at the tombs of their ancestors, they repair their graves
and plant flowers upon them as an act of worship.”
Ancestral worship is so much the most important part of religion in
China, that the foregoing account of our habits is meant to dispel an
injurious prejudice against us.
There was one compensation in leaving the mountains and crossing the
hot and dusty plain: the larks were singing as blithely as in England,
the cranes were thoroughly busy over their livelihood, and squirrels
were frisking in the trees. Villages are far more plentiful, and there
is much more traffic on the road as the capital is approached. There
are large fields of beans, and they are the sweetest-scented harvest
there is, to my thinking.
The day we reached Yünnan Fu was one long aggravation, as the head
coolie had made up his mind that we should not arrive that day,
declaring that one hundred li (about twenty-six miles) was too far. We
also had made up our minds that we _should_ arrive, so we started an
hour earlier, or, more correctly speaking, we got up an hour earlier.
For the first time our men kept us waiting, and when at last they
were ready to start they crept like snails. In vain we urged them on
and held out promises of a pork feast in the evening. They stopped
perpetually, and out of the first seven hours of the day they spent
two hours resting. Finally, they were told that if they did not go on
immediately and quickly they would forfeit the feast entirely, and then
they almost ran, saying that the city gate would be shut. We thought
that this was their usual excuse, but as we neared the walls in the
fast-closing twilight a gun sounded which filled us with misgivings.
My friend’s chair had gone in front, contrary to our usual custom, as
she was much the lighter load, and her coolies were apt to run away
with her! When she reached the gateway she was in time to see the big
gates slowly swing to, and to hear the bolt shut, after which the keys
are at once carried to the magistrate’s office. By the time we had all
arrived we found that it would be possible to have the gates reopened
by sending in a visiting-card to the magistrate along with our military
escort. The power of a visiting-card is very great in China, and we
had the satisfaction of winning the day after a great twelve hours’
tussle with our men. It would be hard to say whether an Englishman or a
Chinaman is the keener to get his own way!