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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35b9622 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54401 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54401) diff --git a/old/54401-0.txt b/old/54401-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 43c7f25..0000000 --- a/old/54401-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10879 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman In China, by Mary Gaunt - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: A Woman In China - Illustrated - -Author: Mary Gaunt - -Release Date: March 21, 2017 [EBook #54401] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN IN CHINA *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -A WOMAN IN CHINA - -By Mary Gaunt - -Author Of “Alone In West Africa,” “The Uncounted Cost,” Etc. - -London: T. Werner Laurie Ltd. - -1915 - - - - - -A WOMAN IN CHINA - - - - -CHAPTER I--ACROSS THE OLD WORLD - -{001} - -_My grandmother's curios--Camels and elephants--Dr Morrison--Chinese -in Australia--Feared for his virtues--Racial animosity--Great Northern -Plain--A city of silence--A land of exile--The Holy Sea--Frost -flowers on a birch forest--Chaos at Manchuria and Kharbin--Japanese -efficiency--A Peking dust storm._ - -|When I was a little girl and was taken to see my grandmother, she set -out for my amusement, to be looked at but not touched by little fingers, -various curios brought home by my grandfather from China in the old days -when he was a sailor in the Honourable East India Company's service; -beautifully carved ivory chessmen, a model of a Chinese lady's foot -about three inches long, dainty mother-of-pearl counters made in the -likeness of all manner of strange beasts, lacquer boxes and ivory balls; -models of palankeens in ivory, and fans that seemed to me, brought up -in the somewhat rough-and-ready surroundings of a new country, dreams -of loveliness. The impression was made, I felt the fascination of China, -the fascination of a thing far beyond me. Like the pretty things, so out -of my reach it seemed that I did not even add it to the list of places I -intended to {002}visit when I grew up, for even then my great desire -was to travel all over the world; I was born with the wander fever in -my blood, but unfortunately with small means of satisfying it. As I grew -older I used to read every travel book I could get hold of, and later -on when I began to live by my pen I got into the habit of gauging my -chances of seeing a country by the number of books written about it. -China, judged by this standard, fell naturally into the place assigned -to it by my grandmother's curios; for from the days of Marco Polo -men have gone up and down the land, painfully, sorrowfully, gladly, -triumphantly, and at least half of them seem to have put pen to paper to -describe what they have seen. Was it likely there would be anything left -for me to write about? - -Then one bright Sunday morning when the sun was shining, as he does -occasionally shine in England, the spirit moved me to go down the -Brighton line to spend a day with Parry Truscott, a fellow storyteller. -The unkind Fates have seen to it that I live alone, and arriving at -Victoria that bright morning I felt amiably disposed and desirous -of exchanging ideas with somebody. In the carriage I had chosen were -already seated two nicely dressed women, and coming along the platform -was a porter with hot-water bottles. The morning was sharp and the -opportunity was not to be lost, I turned to them and asked them if they -would not like a hot-water bottle. Alas! Alas! Those women towards whom -I had felt so friendly evidently did not reciprocate my feelings. In -chilly accents calculated to discourage the boldest--and I am not the -boldest--they gave me to understand that they required neither the -hot-{003}water bottle nor my conversation, so, snubbed, I retired to the -other side of the carriage and amused myself with my own thoughts and -the sunshine and shadow on the green country through which we were -passing. Half the journey was done when I saw, to my astonishment, a -sight that is not often seen in the Sussex lanes, a train of camels and -elephants marching along. It seemed to me something worth seeing, and -entirely forgetting that I had been put in my place earlier in the -morning I cried, “Oh, look! Look! Camels and elephants!” - -Those two ladies were a credit to the English nation. They bore -themselves with the utmost propriety. What they thought of me I can only -dimly guess, but they never even raised their eyes from their papers. Of -course the train rushed on, the camels and elephants were left behind, -and there was nothing to show they had ever been there. Then I regret -to state that I lay back and laughed till I cried, and whenever I felt -a little better the sight of those two studious women solemnly reading -their papers set me off again. When I got out at Hassocks they did -not allow themselves to look relieved, that perhaps would have been -expressing too much emotion before a stranger who had behaved in so -eccentric a fashion, but they literally drew their skirts around them so -that they should not touch mine and be contaminated as I passed. - -There is always more than one side to a story; how I should love to hear -the version of that journey told by those two ladies; doubtless it would -not in the faintest degree resemble mine. And yet there really were -camels and elephants. And so it occurred to me why not go to a country -and try and {004}write about it, although many had written before. If -the gods were kind might I not find a story even in China. - -Meanwhile one of my brothers had married a sister of Dr Morrison, and I -had come into touch with the famous _Times_ correspondent, an Australian -like myself, and when he came to England he used to come and see me, and -we talked about China. When I met him again after my elephant and camel -experience I asked his opinion, would it be worth my while to go to -China? - -He was quite of opinion it would, more, he and his newly-wedded wife -gave me a cordial invitation to stay with them, and the thing was -settled. I decided to go to Peking. Accordingly, on the last day of -January in the year of Our Lord 1913, I left Charing Cross in a thick -fog for the Far East. It is a little thing to do, to get into a train -and be whirled eastward. There is nothing wonderful about it and -yet--and yet--to me it was the beginning of romance. I was bound across -the old world for a land where people had lived as a civilised people -for thousands of years before we of the West emerged from barbarism, -for a country which the new nation from which I have sprung regards with -peculiar interest. Australia has armed herself. Why? Because of China's -millions to the north. Australia has voted solid for a white Australia, -and rigidly excluded the coloured man. Why? Not because she fears the -Kanaka who helped to develop her sugar plantations, but because she -fears the yellow man and his tireless energy and his low standard of -living. - -[Illustration: 0026] - -When I was a child my father, warden of the {005}goldfield where he was -stationed, was also, by virtue of his office, protector of the Chinese; -and Heaven knows the unfortunate Chinese, industrious, hardworking men -of the coolie class from Amoy and Canton, badly needed a protector. Many -a time have I seen an unfortunate Chinaman, cut and bleeding, come to -my father's house to claim his protection. The larrikins, as we used to -call the roughs, had stoned him for no reason that they or anyone else -could understand but only because he was a Chinaman. Now I understand -what puzzled and shocked me then, and what shocks me still. It is that -racial animosity that is so difficult to explain to the home-staying -Englishman: that animosity which is aroused because, subconsciously, the -white man knows that the yellow man, in lowering the standard of living, -will literally take away much of the bread and all chance of butter from -the community in which he has a foothold. - -Here I was going to see the land whence had come that subservient, -patient, hard-working coolie of my childhood. And the wonder of that -rush across the old world, the twelve days' railway journey that takes -us from the most modern of civilisations to the most ancient--it grew -upon me as we crossed the great northern plain--historic ground whereon -the great battles of Europe have been fought. The people in the train -were dining, supping, playing cards, sleeping, and the cities we passed -in the darkness seemed mere clusters of dancing lights, such lights as I -have seen after rain on many a hot and steamy night in West Africa. When -morning dawned we had passed Berlin and were slowly leaving the packed -civilisation behind us. A grey low {006}sky was overhead and there were -clumps of fir-trees. Dirty snow was in the hollows, and there were long, -straight roads drawn with a ruler as they are in Australia, with little -bare trees at regular intervals on either side, and then again dark fir -woods and rain everywhere. Soon we had passed the frontier and were in -Russia, and I felt I could not rush through without one glimpse of it, -so I stayed one little week in Moscow, and I shall always be glad I did, -though there, for the first time in my life, I was in a country where my -nationality did not count, and it was not a pleasant feeling. But Moscow -is the city of a dream. I arrived there at night to streets all covered -with a mantle of snow. The many lights shone clear in the keen, cold, -windless air and the sleighs drawn by sturdy little horses glided over -the white snow as silently as if they had been moving shadows. And when -morning came it was snowing. Softly, softly, fell the flakes and the -city was a city of silence, white everywhere, and when the sun came out -dazzling, sparkling white, only the cupolas of the many churches--Moscow -in the heart of holy Russia has sixteen hundred--were golden or bright -blue, or dark vivid green, for the snow that hid the brilliant roofs -could not lie on their rounded surfaces. Above the cupolas are crosses, -and from the crosses hang long chains, and ever and again on the silence -rang out the musical clang of some deep-toned bell. But it is the -silence that impresses. The bells were but incidental, trifling--the -silence is eternal. The snow fell with a hush, there was no rush nor -roar nor crash of storm, but every snowflake counted. The little sledges -were half buried in it, the drivers in their fur-edged caps {007}and -blue coats girt in at the waist with a red sash or silver embroidered -band, shook it out of their eyes and out of their great beards and -brushed it from their shoulders; in every crevice of the old grey walls -of the Kremlin it piled up. - -A dream city! A city of silence!! The snow reigned, deadening all sound -save the insistent bells that rang to the glory of God, and the cawing -of the black and grey crows that were everywhere. What have scavenger -crows to do in this beautiful city? They were there flying round -the churches, darting down the spotless roads, gathering in little -conclaves, raising their raucous voices as if in protest against the -all-embracing silence. They were the discordant note that emphasised the -harmony. - -Cold, was there ever such cold? The air crackled with it. It cut like -a knife, for all its clear purity. At every street corner I passed as I -drove to the railway station were little piles of fir logs, and little -braziers were burning, glowing red spots of brightness where the -miserable for a moment might warm their hands. - -They say one should leave Moscow in summer to cross the Siberian plain, -because then there are the flowers--such flowers--and the green trees, -and the sunshine, and you may see the road--the long and sorrowful -road--along which for years the exiles have passed. I have heard many -complaints about the weariness of the journey in winter. There is -nothing to be seen say the grumblers. For these luckless ones I have the -sincerest pity. They have missed something goodly. I suppose for most -of us life, as it unfolds itself, is a disappointing thing, full of -bitterness and--worse still--of unattainable {008}desires, but of one -thing I shall always be glad, that I crossed the Siberian plain in -the heart of winter, and saw it beneath its mantle of spotless snow. -Possibly I may never see it in summer, but its winter beauty is -something to be remembered to my dying day. - -And yet it is a land of exile. Even in childhood I had read of the -sufferings of those who have been sent there; and my conception of the -land and the reality before my eyes as I rushed through it in an express -train were always starting up in comparison with each other. A land -of exile, and yet from the plains of Eastern Russia in the west to the -frozen hills round Kharbin in the east it is a lovely land. It is a -plain, of course--a plain thousands of miles in extent, and the vastness -and the beauty of the snow-clad solitudes cry aloud in praise to the God -Who made them. Overhead, far, far away, is the great arch of the deep -blue sky, clear, bright, enticing, delightful, with no threat in its -translucent depths such as one knows is latent in tropical lands, and -below is the snow-clad plain, stretching far as the eye can see, bathed -in the brilliant sunshine. From the desert and the mountains in the -south it stretches away north to the frozen sea; and from the busy towns -of the Baltic in the west, in close touch with modern civilisation, to -the busy toiling millions of the East with their own civilisation that -comes from a dateless antiquity; and in all those thousands of miles it -changes its character but little. - -But first there were the Urals. I had looked upon them as mountains all -my life; and I saw one evening only some very minor hills, deep in snow, -with steep sides covered with a forest of fir and leafless {009}larch, -dark against the white background; next morning all trace of them was -gone, and we were in Asia. On the station platforms were men and women, -Cossacks of the west, Buriats of the centre, Tartars of the east, -Christians, Buddhists, Mohammedans; there was little difference in -outward appearance, muffled as they were against the cold which was -often thirty degrees below freezing-point. The men were in long-skirted -coats, and the women in short petticoats and high boots, so that it -would have been difficult to tell one from the other save that on their -heads the men wore fur caps, ragged, dirty, but still fur, while the -women muffled themselves in shawls still dirtier. Though they looked as -if they had not given water a thought from the day they were born, I, -the daughter of a subtropical land, could forgive them. Who could face -water in such a biting atmosphere? I sympathised but I did not desire to -go too close when we passengers bundled out for exercise on the station -platforms, at least most of us did. Some preferred bridge. - -“My God! my God!” said an old military man with unnecessary fervour. -“What are the idiots getting out for. I go one no trump, partner. Where -is my partner? The donkey 'll be slipping and hurting himself on those -slippery steps next and then our four 'll be spoilt,” and he looked -round for sympathy. - -Someone murmured something about seeing the country, but he shrivelled -him with his scorn. - -“Seeing the country! This is the eleventh time I've been across and I -never even look out if I can help myself. Know better. Oh, here you are, -{010}partner,” slightly mollified. “I've gone one no trump, and there -are two hearts against you.” - -It was a curious thing to me that most of the passengers in that -luxuriously equipped train, with every comfort for the asking save fresh -air, grumbled so continuously. It seems to be the accepted thing that -the traveller who travels luxuriously should grumble. Our old soldier -considered himself a much-injured individual when the attendants did -not know by instinct when he required lemon and tea and when -whisky-and-soda; and the breaking up of a game of auction bridge because -the tables were wanted for dinner reduced him to blackest despair. The -hordes which through the ages have swept, conquering, westwards probably -never complained, their lives were too strenuous, either they fought -and died and were at peace, or they fought and conquered, and small -discomforts were swallowed up in the joy of victory. It is left to these -modern travellers flying eastward at a rate that would have made the -old-time nomads think of witchcraft and sorcery to make a fuss about -trifles, to complain of the discomforts and hardships of the long -journey across the old world. - -I knew the country. In the days when I was a little girl studying my -map with diligence I should have counted it a joy unspeakable if I -had thought that ever I should be crossing Siberia; crossing the great -rivers, the Obi, the Yenesei and the Angara that were then as far away -and distant to me as the river that Christian crossed to gain high -Heaven; that I should watch the sledges travelling in the sunlight along -their hard, frozen surfaces, I to whom a small piece of ice on a saucer -of water, which by {011}luck we might get if there happened to be an -exceptionally cold night in the winter, was a wonder and a delight. I -suppose my joy would have' been tempered could I have known how many -years must pass over my head before this wonderful thing would happen, -for in those days five-and-twenty seemed extraordinarily old, and I -was very sure that at thirty life would not be worth living. And I have -passed that terrible age limit and have missed most things I have set my -heart upon, but still there are moments when life is well worth living. -Strange and bitter is the teaching of the years--bitter but kindly, too. - -We passed Irkutsk where East and West meet, a great city with church -spires and cupolas and buildings overlooking the broad and frozen -Angara. We raced along by leafless woods, by barren stretches of -spotless snow, and sometimes the swiftly running river was piling up the -ice in great slabs and blocks and girding and fretting at its chains, -and sometimes it was flowing free for a few miles, the only flowing -river in all the long, long journey from the old Russian capital. The -water was black, and dark, and cold, looking far colder than the ice. -The duck rose, leaving long wakes on the water; then there was a little -steam, and then a greater steam in the clear sunlight, but by the time -we reached Lake Baikal, the Fortunate Sea, the Holy Sea, the frost -had gripped the water again, the lake was a sheet of white, and the -afternoon sun shone on hills snow-clad on the eastern side. The hills, -hardly worth mentioning when one thinks of the great plain across which -we had come, are down to the very ice edge. The great lake, the eighth -in the world, is {012}but a cleft in them, and the railway track runs -on a ledge cut out of the steep hill-side overhanging its waters, waters -that were now smooth and white and hard as marble. Here and there little -jetties run out; here and there were boats, useless now, close against -them; here and there were piles of wood that would be burned up before -the thaw. It had been Siberia for days but Baikal struck the true -Siberian note. - -Here there were convicts too. Some alterations or repairs were being -carried out on the line, and drab-coloured convicts were working at -them, guarded by soldiers with fixed bayonets. Siberia! Siberia of the -story-teller! On every little point of vantage stood a soldier with high -fur cap, looking out over the men working below him, and they, splitting -wood, digging holes in the iron-bound ground, paused in their labours -and lifted their faces to the passing train. Did it speak to them of -home and culture and love and happiness and freedom, or were they merely -the brutal criminal justly punished, and the peasant, poor and simple, -here because the Government want workers, and that he cannot pay his -taxes is excuse enough. - -The sun was brilliant but it was cold, bitter cold, such cold as I had -never dreamed of. Men's breath came like solid steam, and the hair on -their faces was fringed with white hoar-frost. The earth was so hard -frozen that they were building great fires to thaw it before working; -and as the darkness fell the flames leapt yellow and red and blue, -glowing spots of colour against the whiteness and the night. And with -the night came the full moon high in the clear sky, a disc of dazzling -silver. The Providence that {013}has guided my wandering footsteps -surely gives sometimes with a lavish hand; that which I have sought -earnestly with many tears is not for me, but this still moonlight -winter's night in Siberia was mine, and all the world that we were -rushing past was fairyland. There was in it nothing sordid, nothing -unclean, nothing sorrowful. - -And it was still fairyland when I awoke in the morning to a brilliant -sun shining upon a forest of dainty, delicate, graceful birches with -every branch, every little twig, clothed in sparkling white, for the -sunbeams were caught and reflected a million times on the frost flowers, -and the whole forest was a thing of beauty and wonder that to see once -is to remember for a lifetime. It is worth living to have seen it. I -have seen great rivers and mountains and been awed by mighty forests, -I have watched the thundering surf and listened to the roar of the -tornado; but this was something quite different. Awe was not the -predominant feeling, but joy--joy that such beauty exists, that I was -alive to look upon it. Behind us lay a long, long trail. We in the -rushing train represented the onward march of a mighty civilisation, but -all around us in the brilliant winter sunshine lay the limitless plains -of Siberia, and the birch forest, and the snow, and the frost, and the -beauty that is not made with hands, that defies civilisation, that -was before civilisation, and we were moved to raise our eyes with the -psalmist and cry aloud: “How wonderful are thy works, O Lord!” - -But I did not appreciate the beauty of the winter or the moonlight when -they roused me at three o'clock in the morning at Manchuria because -my luggage {014}had to be examined at the Chinese Customs. The scanty -lights on the station, the silver moon in the heaven above lit up the -platform as we passengers of the _train de luxe_ made our way to the -baggage-room along a path between heaped-up frozen snow and ice, and -the difference in temperature between that station platform and the -carriages from which the hot air gushed was perhaps one hundred degrees. -The reek from those carriages went up to heaven, but the sudden change -was cruel. - -Our pessimistic old soldier wailed loudest. “My God! My God! this is -unbearable!” and I wondered why, because on his way through the world he -must have encountered worse things than bitter cold that has only to -be borne for a few minutes. Probably that was the reason. If he had had -something really hard to bear he would very likely have said nothing -about it. The baggage-room was confusion, worse confounded, and nobody -seemed to know what was being looked for, opium, or arms or both. This -place is the Port Said of the East, and people from all corners of the -earth were gathered round their belongings. There were groups of Chinese -with women and children and weird bundles; there were the very latest -dressing-cases and despatch-boxes from Bond Street and Piccadilly; there -was a babel of tongues, Russian and French and German and English and -the unknown tongues of Asia. China, China at last, and I was within two -days of my destination. - -And when the day dawned we had left beautiful Siberia behind, and -instead there were flat lands, deserts of stones and dry earth, with but -little snow to veil the apparent barrenness, and hills first with -{015}scanty trees, but growing more and more barren as we approached -Kharbin. It looked desolate, cold, uninviting. The land may be rich, it -is I am told, but when I passed there was no outward sign of that -richness; the covering of beautiful white was gone, there was only a -patch or two of snow here and there in the hollows, and the brilliant -sunshine was like gleams of light on steel. At Kharbin they examined our -baggage again--why I know not--and again it was chaos, chaos in the -bitter cold with the mercury many degrees below freezing-point and -screeching demons with a Mongolian type of countenance, muffled in furs -and rags that seemed the cast-off clothes of all the nations of the -earth, hauled the luggage about, pored over tickets and made entries in -books with all the elaborate effort of the unlearned, and finally marked -the unhappy boxes with great sprawling figures in tar or some such -compound. - -[Illustration: 0039] - -“Four roubles, twenty kopecks.” Why I had to pay I know not, that was -beyond me, but I was glad to get off so lightly, for had they seen fit -to ask me one hundred roubles, I should have been equally helpless. I -was thankful to get out of the cold back to my warm and evil-smelling -coupé. - -And at Ch'ang Ch'un I fairly felt I had crossed half the world, and the -oldest old world greeted me with active winter. I did not know then, as -I do now, how wonderful a thing is a snowstorm in Northern China. Here -the snow was falling, falling. We had left behind us the great spaces -of the earth, and come back to agriculture. Through the whirling -snowflakes, little low-roofed houses, surrounded with walls of stone -with little portholes for {016}guns--the Japanese block-houses, for -Japan holds Manchuria by force of arms--alternated with farmhouses, -with fences of high yellow millet stalks. The doors were marked with -brilliant red paper with inscriptions in Chinese characters upon it--a -spot of brightness amidst the prevailing white that lent tone and colour -to the picture. - -Here it was that the Russians and the sons of Nippon had been at -death-grips, and we who were in this train realised why the Eastern -nation had won. At Kharbin and at Manchuria, with things managed by -Chinese, reigned confusion. That we ever emerged with a scrap of luggage -seemed to be more by good luck than good management. From Ch'ang Ch'un -to Mukden the little men from the islands in the eastern sea run the -railway, and they know what they are about; everything is in order, and -everything marches without apparent effort. They bought this land -with their blood, and they are holding it now with the sure grip that -efficiency gives. - -At Mukden a blizzard was raging, and the old Tartar City was veiled -in snow. When the snow went, the sunshine was bleak and bright, and -everywhere, far as the eye could see, stretched tilled fields, bare of -every green thing. Flatter and flatter grew the land. It was half ice -and half earth, and the little sledges that were hitherto drawn by -ponies were now drawn by men. Once we had left behind the Siberian fir, -there was not a green thing to be seen all the way to Peking. The earth -of the fields was streaked, dark brown and lighter brown; there were -bare trees with their promise for the future; and once we were in China -proper, there were the {017}graves--graves solitary, and graves in -clusters--just neatly kept little heaps of earth piled up and pointed, -something like an ant-hill. The air was clear and sparkling, the outlook -was wide. We passed town after town, and where on the Siberian border -the names of the stations were in Russian and Chinese, and so equally -unintelligible, here in China they were in English and Chinese. - -“Do you like China?” I asked a Frenchman who sat opposite me at tiffin. - -“No,” said he frankly. “It is too English.” But he laughed when I said -that naturally I considered that a distinct point in the Chinaman's -favour. - -A wind rose, and it was as if the brown earth were literally lifted into -the air. Everything was smothered in a dust storm. The atmosphere -was heavy as a London fog, a fog that had been dried by some freezing -process. The air was full of dry brown particles that shrivelled the -skin, and parched the lips, and made me weigh in my mind the respective -merits of a soft, moist air, and a clear and sparkling one. I had left -London in a yellow fog that veiled the tops of the houses, and lent an -air of mystery to the street in the near distance, I arrived at Peking -in a typical North China dust storm. We came through the wall, the wall -of the Chinese city, that until I had seen the Tartar wall looked grey, -and grim, and stern, and solid, and I wondered at the curved tiled -roofs, and the low houses, and the great bare spaces that go to make up -the city. - -The East at last, the Far East! All across the old world I had come; and -here on a bitter cold February afternoon, with a wild wind blowing, the -train drew up outside the Tartar wall, the wall that {018}Kublai Khan -and the Ming Emperors built in the capital city of the civilisation that -was old when the Roman legions planted their eagles in the marshes of -the Thames. I had reached China, the land of blue skies and of sunshine; -the land of desperate poverty and of wonderful wealth; the land of -triumph, and of martyrdom, and of mystery. What was it going to hold for -me? - - - - -CHAPTER II--A CITY OF THE AGES - -{019} - -_Chien Men Railway Station--Driver Chow--“Urgent speed in high -disdain”--Peking dust storm--Joys of a bath--The glories of -Peking--The Imperial City--The Forbidden City--Memorial arches--The -observatory--The little Tartar princess--Life in the streets--Street -stalls--A mercenary marriage--Courtly gentlemen._ - -|I looked out of the carriage window as the train ran through the -Chinese city on its way to the Chien Men railway station, and wondered -what the future was going to be like, and I wondered aloud. - -“How will I get on?” - -Opposite me sat an amusing young gentleman with a ready tongue. - -“Oh you'll be all right,” said he. “The Chinese 'll like you because -you're fat and o----” and then he checked himself seeing, I suppose, the -dawning wrath in my eyes. The Chinese admire fat people and they respect -the old, but I had not been accustomed to looking upon myself as old -yet, though I had certainly seen more years than he had, and as for -fat--well I had fondly hoped my friends looked upon it as a pleasing -plumpness. With these chastening remarks sinking into my soul, we rolled -into the railway station. - -The railways in China, with a few exceptions, have been built by the -English or French--mostly {020}by the English--and are managed to a -great extent on European lines, so that arriving at the railway station -in Peking does not differ very much from arriving at any other great -terminus, save for the absence of cabs; but I imagine there must be -differences, and that those who run the lines have little difficulties -to contend with that would not occur on the London and North Western for -example. - -“Dear Sir,”--wrote a stationmaster once to the locomotive -superintendent--“I have, with many tears, to call your attention to your -driver, Chow, who holds urgent speed in high disdain.” - -The locomotive superintendent, without any tears, investigated the -charge against this driver, Chow. The line was worked on the staff -system. No driver could leave a station without giving up the staff he -had brought in, and receiving the corresponding one for the next stretch -of line. The staff--to follow the directions--is to be handed to the -driver by the stationmaster, but the stationmaster on this, and I expect -on many other occasions, for the Chinese are past-masters in the art of -delegating work to someone else, had handed the staff to a coolie and -gone about his pleasure. Now Chow evidently had a grudge against him, -for, I fear me, no one believed in his altruism. He insisted on the -strict letter of the law and declined to take the staff until it was -handed to him by the important man himself, and he kept the whole train -waiting, while that worthy was searched for, and hauled out of the -particular gambling-house he most affected. When the gentleman appeared, -furious and angry, on the platform, Chow calmly lifted up his staff to -effect {021}an exchange, and he swore on investigation he had forgotten -that the end the stationmaster received had been reposing for all the -long wait upon the nearly red-hot boiler! That the stationmaster burnt -his fingers is a mild statement of the case. - -There was a wild wind blowing when I stepped out of the train and looked -around me at the frowning walls, at least I looked as much as I could, -for the day was bitterly cold, and most of the ground was in the air. -A London fog was nothing to it, that is soft and still and filthy, this -was hard and gritty, moving fast and equally filthy, and every one of -the passengers was desperately anxious to exchange the bleak railway -station for the warmth and comfort and cleanliness to be found between -four walls. - -I was just as anxious as anybody else, but by the time I had collected -my luggage the awful facts were borne in on me that all the people with -whom I had made friends on the way across, were rapidly departing, and -that there was no one to meet me. Peking was wonderful, I knew it was -wonderful; there were such walls as I had never even dreamt of, towering -above me, but I was not able to rise above the fact that I was in a -strange city, among quaint-looking people who spoke an unknown tongue, -and that I did not know where to go. And the Morrisons' invitation had -been most cordial. I had rejected all offers of help, because I was so -sure someone from their house would be there to meet me, now I seized -the last remaining passenger who could speak a little Chinese, and, with -his help, got a hand-cart for my gear, drawn by two ragged men, and -a rickshaw for myself--this man haulage, this {022}cheapness of human -labour, made me realise more quickly than anything else could have -done, that I had really arrived in the Eastern world--and after a little -debate with myself I started for Dr Morrison's. I had been asked to stay -there, and I felt it would be rude to go to the hotel, but as we -drove through the streets I thought--as much as the dust, the filthy -dust--that the violent gusts of wind were blowing in my face would -allow--not of the wonders of this new world upon which I was entering, -but of how I should announce myself to these people who apparently were -not expecting me. I had such a lot of luggage too! - -[Illustration: 0049] - -At last the coolies stopped opposite a door guarded by two stone lions, -and as I got out of my rickshaw, entered the porch, and stood outside -a little green wicket gate, the doorkeeper stepped out of his room and -looked at me. He was clad all in blue cotton and he had an impassive -face and just enough English for a doorkeeper. - -No, Missie was not at home, he announced calmly. “Master?” I asked -frantically, but he shook his head, Master was out too. Here was a -dilemma. I would have gone straight to the hotel I had discovered Peking -boasted, but I feared they might think it rude. I made him understand I -would come in and wait a little, and my luggage, my dilapidated luggage, -for Kharbin and Manchuria had been hard on it, was carried into the -courtyard of the first Chinese house I had ever seen. But I wasn't -thinking of sight-seeing then; I was wondering what I should do. -I questioned the No. 1 boy, as I subsequently found he was, a -pleasant-faced little man in a long blue coat or dress, whichever -{023}you please to call it, and a little round silk cap suppressing -his somewhat wild hair. I learned afterwards that some students, -enthusiastic for the new regime, had caught him the day before and shorn -off his queue with no skilful hands. It was his opinion that Missie -was not expecting a guest, but he suggested I should come inside and -have-some tea. The thought of tea was distinctly comforting, and so -was his attitude. It suggested that unexpected guests were evidently -received with hospitality, and dirty as I felt myself to be, I went in -and sat down to a meal of tea and cakes. - -“I makee room ready chop chop,” announced the boy, and I drank tea and -ate cakes, wondering whether I ought not to stop him, and say he had -better wait till his mistress came home. And I felt so horribly dirty, -too. Then there came in a lady who also looked at me with surprise. - -She had come to tea with Mrs Morrison, and she was quite sure Mrs -Morrison was expecting no guest. This was awful. I became so desperate -that nothing seemed to matter, and I went on eating cake and drinking -tea till presently the No. 1 boy came in again, and calmly announced: - -“Barf ready.” - -And I had just been told that my hostess did not expect me! - -I looked at the lady sitting opposite me, I looked at the boy, and I -considered my very dirty and dishevelled self. I had not even seen a -bath since I left Moscow. I had come through the Peking streets in -a Peking dust storm, and I felt a bath was a temptation not to be -resisted, wherever that bath was offered; so I arose and followed the -boy, and {024}presently Mrs Morrison, coming into her own courtyard, was -confronted by a heap of strange luggage, and a boy standing over it with -a feather duster, no mere feather duster could have coped with the dirt -upon it, but a Chinese servant would attack a hornet's nest with one; -it is his badge of office. He looked up at her and remarked, in that -friendly and conversational manner with which the Chinese servant makes -the wheels of life go smoothly for his Missie when he has her alone. - -“One piecey gentleman in barf!” - -She came and knocked at the bedroom door when I was doing my hair and -feeling much more able to face the world, and made me most cordially -welcome, and, when I was fully dressed and back in the drawing-room, Dr -Morrison appeared, and said he was glad to see me, and no one mentioned -that my arrival had been unexpected, till a week later, when the letter -I had written saying by what train I was coming, turned up. - -I stayed with Dr Morrison and his pretty young wife for close on a -fortnight, and they gave me most kindly hospitality, and not only did I -view the wonders of Peking, make some acquaintances and friends, but saw -just a little of the peculiarities of Chinese servants. They are good, -there is no gainsaying it, but sometimes they did surprise me. Dr -Morrison has a secretary, young and slim and clever, who in the early -days of our acquaintanceship was wont very kindly to come over and help -me in the important matter of fastening up dresses at the back. One -evening, being greatly in need of her assistance, I sent across the -courtyard to her, and the startled young lady was calmly informed by -{025}a bland and smiling boy as if it were the most natural thing in the -world: - -“One piecey gentleman wanchee in he's bedroom.” - -At first I don't think I appreciated Peking. It left me cold, and my -heart sank, for I had come to write about it, to gain material perhaps -for a novel, and this most certainly is a truth, you cannot write well -about a place unless you either love or hate it. Still, I have always -had a great distaste for dashing through a country like an American -tourist, and so I settled down at the Wagons Lits Hotel, surely the most -cosmopolitan hotel in the world. - -And then by slow degrees my eyes were opened, and I saw. Blind, blind, -how could I have been so blind? It makes me troubled. Have other good -things been offered me in life? And have I turned away and missed them? -The wonder of what I have seen in Peking never palls, it grows upon me -daily. - -“Walk about Zion and go round about her... consider her palaces that ye -may tell it to the generation following.” So chanted the psalmist, not -so much, perhaps, for the sake of future generations, but because her -beauty and charm so filled his soul that his lips were forced to song. -“Tell the towers thereof, mark ye well her bulwarks.” Far back in the -ages, a nation great and civilised on the eastern edge of the plain -that stretches half across the world, builded themselves a mighty -city. Peking first came into being when we Western nations, who pride -ourselves upon our intense civilisation, were but naked savages, hunters -and nomads, and she, spoiled and sacked and looted, {026}taking fresh -masters, and absorbing them, Chinese and Tartar, Ming and Manchu, has -endured even unto the present day. To-day, the spirit of the West -is breathing over her and she responds a little, ever so little, and -murmurs of change, yet she remains the same at heart as she has been -through the ages. How should she change? She is wedded to her past, she -can no more be divorced from it than can the morning from the evening. - -There is something wonderful and antique about any walled city, but a -walled city like Peking stands alone. The very modern railway comes -into the Chinese City through an archway in the wall, and the railway -station, the hideous modern railway station, lies just outside the great -wall of the Tartar City. There are three cities in Peking, indeed for -the last few years there have been four--four distinct cities. There is -the Imperial City, enclosed in seven miles of pinkish red wall, close on -twenty feet high, and in the Imperial City, the very heart of it, behind -more pinkish red walls, is the Forbidden City, where dwell the remnant -of the Manchu Dynasty, the baby emperor and his guardians, the women, -the eunuchs, the attendants that make up such a gathering as waited in -bygone days on Darius, King of the Medes, or Ahasuerus, King of Babylon. -Here there are spacious courtyards and ancient temples and palaces, and -audience halls with yellowish-brown tiled roofs, extensive lakes, where -multitudes of wild duck, flying north for the summer, or south for the -winter, find a resting-place, watch-towers and walls, and tunnelled -gateways through those walls. When through the ages the greatest artists -of a nation have been giving their minds to {027}the beautifying of a -city, the things of beauty in that city are so numerous that it seems -impossible for one mind to grasp them, to realise the wonder and the -charm, especially when that charm is exotic and evasive. - -The Imperial City, all round the Forbidden City, consists of a network -of narrow streets and alleys lined with low buildings with windows of -delicate lattice-work, and curved tiled roofs. Here, hidden away in -silent peaceful courtyards shaded by gnarled old trees, are temples -guarded by shaven priests in faded red robes. Their hangings are torn -and faded, the dust lies on their altars, and the scent of the incense -is stale in their courts, for the gods are dead; and yet because the -dead are never forgotten in China--China that clings to her past--they -linger on. Here are shops, low one-storied shops, with fronts richly -carved and gilded, streets deep in mud or dust, narrow alley-ways and -high walls with mysterious little doors in them leading into secluded -houses, and all the clatter and clamour of a Chinese city, laden -donkeys, mules and horses, rickshaws from Japan, glass broughams weirdly -reflecting the glory of modern London, and blue, tilted Peking carts -with studded wheels, {028}such as have been part and parcel of the Imperial -City for thousands of years, all the life of the city much as it is -outside the pinkish red walls, only here and there are carved pillars -and broad causeways that, if the stones could speak, might tell a tale -of human woe and Human weariness, of joy and magnificence, that would -surpass any told of any city in the world. - -And outside the Imperial City, hemming it in, in a great square fourteen -miles round, is the Tartar City with splendid walls. Outside that -again, forming a sort of suburb, lies to the south the Chinese City with -thirteen miles of wall enclosing not only its teeming population, but -the great open spaces and parks of the Temple of Heaven and the Temple -of Agriculture. But though the Tartar City and the Chinese City are -distinct divisions of Peking, walled off from each other, all difference -between the people has long ago disappeared. The Tartars conquered the -Chinese, and the Chinese, patient, industrious, persistent, drew the -Tartars to themselves. But still the walls that divided them endure. - -The Tartar City is crossed by broad highways cutting each other at right -angles, three run north and south, and three run east and west, they are -broad and are usually divided into three parts, the centre part being a -good, hard, well-tended roadway, while on either side the soil is loose, -and since the streets are thronged, the side ways are churned up in -the summer into a slough that requires some daring to cross, and in the -winter--the dry, cold rainless winter, the soil is ground into a powdery -dust that the faintest breeze raises into the air, and many of the -breezes of Northern China are by no means faint. The authorities try to -grapple with the evil--at regular intervals are stationed a couple of -men with a pail of muddy water, which with a basket-work scoop they -distribute lavishly in order to try and keep down the rising dust. -But the dust of Peking is a problem beyond a mere pail and scoop. This -spattering of water has about as much effect upon it as a thimbleful of -water flung on a raging fiery furnace. - -[Illustration: 0057] - -Still, in spite of the mud and the dust, the streets {029}are not -without charm. They are lined with trees; indeed I think no city of its -size was ever better planted. When once one has realised how treeless -is the greater part of China, this is rather surprising. For look which -way you will from the wall in the summer and autumn, you feel you -might be looking down upon a wood instead of a city; the roofs of the -single-storied houses are hidden by the greenery, and only here and -there peeps out the tiled roof of a temple or hall of audience with the -eaves curving upwards, things of beauty against the background of green -branches. Curiously enough it is only from the walls that Peking -has this aspect. Once in the network of alley-ways it seems as if a -wilderness of houses and shops were crowding one on top of the other, as -if humanity were crushing out every sign of green life. This is because -there is to all things Chinese two sides. There is the life of the -streets, mud-begrimed, dusty, seething with humanity, odoriferous, -ragged, dirty, patient, hardworking; and there is a hidden life shut -away in those networks of narrow alley-ways. - -There is many a gateway between two gilded shop fronts, some black -Chinese characters on a red background set out the owner's name -and titles, and, passing through, you are straightway admitted into -courtyard after courtyard, some planted with trees, some with flowering -plants in pots--because of the cruel winter all Chinese gardens in the -north here are in pots, sometimes with fruit-trees thick with blossom -or heavy with fruit, and in the paved courtyards, secluded, retired as -a convent, you find the various apartments of a well-arranged Chinese -house; there are shady verandas, and dainty lattice-work {030}windows -looking out upon miniature landscapes with little hills and streams and -graceful bridges crossing the streams. But only a favoured few may see -these oases. For the majority Peking must be the wide-open boulevards -and narrow hu t'ungs, fronted by low and highly ornamental houses, -and shops so close together that there is no more room for a garden or -growing green life than there is in Piccadilly. True there are trees in -these boulevards, in Morrison Street, in Ha Ta Men Street, in the street -of Eternal Repose that cuts them at right angles, but they would be but -small things in the mass of buildings were it not for the courtyards of -the private houses and temples that are hidden behind. - -There are, too, in the streets p'ia lous or memorial arches, generally -of three archways with tiled roofs of blue or green or yellow rising -in tiers one above the other, put up in memory of some deed the Chinese -delight to honour. And what the Chinese think worthy of honour, and what -the Westerner delights to honour are generally as far apart, I find, -as the Poles. In Ha Ta Men Street, however, there is a p'ia lou all of -white marble, put up by the last Manchu Emperor in memory of gallant -Baron von Kettler, done to death in the Boxer rising, but there, I am -afraid, Chinese appreciation was quickened by European force. - -We are apt to think that European influence in China is quite a thing of -yesterday, that Baron von Kettler was the first man of note who perished -in the inevitable conflict, and yet, when I looked at the eastern wall -of the city, I was reminded, with a start, that European influence dates -long before {031}the Boxer time, long before the days of the Honourable -East India Company, and many must have been the martyrs. There on the -eastern wall stands the observatory, and clear-cut against the bright -blue sky are astronomical instruments with dragons and strange beasts -upon them. They were placed there by the Jesuits in the middle of -the seventeenth century, and I know that those priests could not have -attained so much influence without a bitter baptism of blood. They stand -out as landmarks, those orbs and astrolabes, up and down the wall, even -as they have come down through the centuries; monuments, as enduring as -any Chinese p'ia lou, of faith and suffering; but the Jesuits were not -the first to place astronomical instruments there. The Chinese were not -barbarians by any means, though by some curious freak we Westerners have -passed them in the race for civilisation, and, as long ago as the days -of Kublai Khan, they had an observatory here by the wall. On the -ground below, in a tree-shaded courtyard, there is an astrolabe with a -beautiful bronze dragon for a stand, the dust-laden air of Peking has -polished and preserved it, so that I can see but little difference -between it and the newer instruments on the platform above--newer and -yet two hundred and fifty years old. - -And beyond the observatory in the north-east corner of the city is the -Lama Temple, a temple with picturesque, yellowish-brown tiled roofs and -spacious courtyards, in which are quaint old gnarled trees, and building -after building in that curious state that is part beautiful, part -slovenly decay, ruled over by hundreds of shaven, yellow-robed monks -among whom, they say, it is not safe for a {032}woman to go by herself. -There is the Temple of Confucius, with surely the most peaceful -courtyard in the world, and there are other temples, temples with -courtyards and weird, twisted coniferous trees in them that are hundreds -of years old, pagodas, and bells, and towers, and to each and all is -attached many a story. - -[Illustration: 0063] - -Overlooking the great causeway that runs along in front of the Forbidden -City, west past the south main gate, are two towers, one to the north in -the Forbidden City, and one to the south without its walls; and of these -two towers they tell a story of tenderness and longing. Hundreds of -years ago, when the Tartars were first subject to the Ming Emperors, -part of their tribute had to be one of their fairest princesses, who -became a member of the Emperor's harem. - -The poor little girl's inclinations were not considered, not even now -is the desire of a woman considered in China, and the little Tartar girl -was bound to suffer for her people. She might or might not please the -Emperor, but whether she did or not the position of one who might share -the Emperor's bed was so high that she might never again hold communion -with her own kin. And then there came one little Tartar princess, who, -finding favour with her lord, summoned courage to tell him of her love -and longing. But there are some rules that not even the mighty Emperor -of China may abrogate, and he could not permit her ever again to mingle -with the common herd. One thing only could he do, and that he did. He -built the northern tower looking over the causeway, and the southern -tower on the other side. On the one tower the poor “lest we forget.” - {033}little secondary wife, lonely and weighted by her high estate, -might stand so that she could see her people on the other, and, though -they were too far apart for caress or spoken word, at least they could -see each other and know that all was well. - -I do not know whether many of the people who throng the streets from -morning to night, and long after night has fallen, ever give a thought -to the little Tartar princess. The shops, most of them open to the -streets, are full, and on two sides of the main roadways are set up -little stalls for the sale of trifles. Curiously enough, and I suppose -it denotes poverty and lack of home life, about half these stalls are -given up to the cooking and selling of eatables. In Ha Ta Men Street, -in Morrison Street, in the street of Eternal Repose, that is as if we -should say in Piccadilly, in Regent Street, and the Hay-market, and just -outside the gates in the Chinese City, on the path that runs between the -canal and the Tartar wall, you may see these same little stalls. - -Here is a man who sells tea, keeping his samovar boiling with shovelfuls -of little round hard nodules, coal dust made up with damp clay into -balls; here is another with a small frying-pan in which he is baking -great slabs of wheaten flour cakes, and selling them hot out of the pan; -here is another with an earthenware dish full of an appetising-looking -stew of meat and vegetables, with a hard-boiled egg or two floating on -top; another man has big yellow slabs of cake with great plums in them, -another has sticks of apples and all manner of fruits and vegetables -done into sweetmeats. And here as it is cooked, alfresco, do the people, -the men, for women are seldom seen at the stalls, come and buy, and -{034}eat, without other equipment than a basin, a pair of chop sticks or -a bone spoon like a ladle supplied by the vendor. - -They sell, and make, and mend Chinese footgear at these stalls too; -there is a fortune-teller, one who will read your future with a chart -covered with hieroglyphics spread out on the bare ground; there is -the letter-writer for the unlearned; there are primitive little -gaming-tables; and there are cheap, very cheap cigarettes and tobacco of -brands unknown in America or Egypt. - -I have said there is a lack of home life, and thought, like the arrogant -Westerner I am, that the Chinese do not appreciate it, but only the -other day I heard a little story that made me think that the son of Han, -like everyone else, longs for a home and someone in it he can call his -very own. - -One day a missionary teacher heard an outcry behind her, and turning, -saw a blind woman, unkempt and filthy and whining pitifully. “Oh who -will help me? Who will help me?” she cried, shrinking away from the dog -that was making dashes at the basket she carried for doles. - -The missionary called off her dog, and reassured the woman. The dog -would not hurt her. He was only interested in the food in her basket. -“Then,” said she, “I went on, because I was in a hurry, but as I went I -thought how horrible the woman looked, and that I ought to go back and -tell her, 'God is Love.'” - -So the missionary stopped and talked religion to that blind beggar, and -told her to come up to the Mission Station. She looked after her soul, -but also, out of the kindness of her heart, she looked {035}after her -body, and when the beggar was established, a woman of means with a whole -dollar--two shillings--a week, she realised that God was indeed Love, -and became a fervent Christian. - -“Clean,” I asked, being of an inquiring turn of mind, and her saviour -laughed. - -“Perhaps you wouldn't call her clean, but it is a vast improvement on -what she was.” - -The woman wasn't young, as Chinese count youth in a woman, she wasn't -good-looking, she wasn't in any way attractive, but she was a woman of -means, and presently her guardian was embarrassed by an offer from a man -of dim sight, for the hand and heart of her protégée. The missionary was -horrified. The woman was married already. The would-be bridegroom, the -prospective bride, and all their friends smiled, and seemed to think -that since her last alliance wasn't a real marriage it should be no bar. -Still the lady was firm, the woman had lived with the man for some -years and it was a marriage in her humble opinion. So the disappointed -candidates for matrimony went their way. However, a few weeks later the -woman came to her guardian with a face wreathed in smiles, “that thing,” - she said, she didn't even call him a man, that thing was dead, had died -the day before, and there was now no reason why she should not marry -again! There was no reason, and within ten days the nuptials were -celebrated, and the blind woman went to live with her new husband. - -I asked was it a success and the missionary smiled. - -“Yes, it is certainly a success, only her husband complains she eats too -much.” {036}I said there were always drawbacks when a man married for -money! - -But as a matter of fact the marriage was a great success. I saw the -happy couple afterwards, and the woman looked well-cared for and neat, -and her husband helped her up some steps quite as carefully as any man -of the West might have done. Truly the Fates were kind to the blind -beggar when they put her in the way of that missionary. She is far, -far happier probably than the bride of a higher class who goes to a -new home, and, henceforward, as long as the older woman lives, is but -a servant to her mother-in-law. True the husband had complained his new -wife ate too much. But Chinese etiquette does not seem to think it at -all the correct thing to praise anything that belongs to one. And for a -husband to show affection for his wife, whatever he may feel, is a most -extraordinary thing. The other day a woman was working in the courtyard -of a house when there came in her husband who had been away for close on -six months. Did they rush at one another as Westerners would have done? -Not at all. He crossed the courtyard to announce himself to his master, -and she went on with her work. Each carefully refrained from looking at -the other, because had they looked people might have thought they cared -for each other. And it is in the highest degree indelicate for a husband -or wife to express affection for each other. - -[Illustration: 0070] - -In truth, once my eyes were opened, I soon grew to think that, from the -point of view of the sightseer, there are few places in the world to -compare with Peking, and the greatest interest lies in the people--the -crowded humanity of the streets. Of course {037}I have seen crowded -humanity--after London how can any busy city present any novelty--and -yet, here in Peking, a new note is struck. Not all at once did I realise -it; my mind went groping round asking, what is the difference between -these people and those one sees in the streets of London or Paris? They -are a different type, but that is nothing, it is only skin deep. What -is it then? One thing cannot but strike the new-comer, and that is that -they are a peaceable and orderly crowd, more amenable to discipline, or -rather they discipline themselves better, than any crowd in the world. -Not but that there are police. At every few yards the police of the New -Republic, in dusty black bound with yellow in the winter, and in khaki -in the summer, with swords strapped to their waists, direct a traffic -that is perfectly capable of directing itself; and at night, armed with -rifles, mounted bands of them patrol the streets, the most law-abiding -streets apparently in the world. In spite of the swarms of tourists, who -are more and more pouring into Peking, a foreigner is still a thing to -be wondered at, to be followed and stared at; but there is no rudeness, -no jostling. He has only to put out his hand to intimate to the -following crowd that he wishes a little more space, that their company -is a little too odoriferous, and they fall back at once, only to press -forward again the next moment. Was ever there such a kindly, friendly -nation? And yet--and yet--What is it I find wrong? They are a highly -civilised people, from the President who reigns like a dictator, to -the humble rickshaw coolie, who guards my dress from the filth of the -street. He will hawk, and spit, but he is as {038}courtly a gentleman as -one of the bucks of the Prince Regent's Court, who probably did much the -same thing. It dawned upon me slowly. These people have achieved that -refinement we of the West have been striving for and have not attained -as yet. It is well surely to make perfection an aim in life, and yet I -feel something has gone from these people in the process of refining. -Ninety-nine times out of a hundred they can be trusted to keep order, -and the hundredth probably not all the police in the capital could hold -them. The very rickshaw coolies, when they fall out, trust to the sweet -reasonableness of argument, even though that argument Waste interminable -hours. A European, an Englishman or an American probably, comes -hectoring down the street--no other word describes his attitude, when -it is contrasted with that of the courteous Orientals round him. On the -smallest provocation, far too small a provocation, he threatens to kick -this coolie, he swings that one out of the way and, instead of being -shocked, I am distinctly relieved. Here is an exhibition of force, -restrained force, that is welcome as a rude breeze, fresh from the sea -or the mountains, is welcome in a heated, scented room. These -people, even the poorer people of the streets, are suffering from -over-civilisation, from over-refinement. They need a touch of the -primitive savage to make the red blood run in their veins. Not but that -they can be savage, so savage on occasion, the hundredth occasion when -no police could hold them, that their cruelty is such that there is -not a man who knows them who would not keep the last cartridge in his -revolver to save himself from the refinement of their tender mercies. -{039}But I did not make this reflection the first, or even the tenth -time, I walked in the streets. It was a thing that grew upon me -gradually. By the time I found I was making comparisons, the comparisons -were already made and my opinions were formed. I looked at these strange -men and women, especially at the small-footed women, and wondered what -effect the condemning of fifty per cent of the population to years of -torture had had upon the mental growth of this nation, and I raised my -eyes to the mighty walls that surrounded the city, and knew that the -nation had done wonderful things. - - - - -CHAPTER III--THE WALLS AND GATES OF BABYLON - -{040} - -_The mud walls of Kublai Khan--Only place for a comfortable -promenade--The gardens on the walls--Guarding the city from devils--The -dirt of the Chinese--The gates--The camels--In the Chien Men--The -patient Chinese women--The joys of living in a walled city--A change in -Chinese feeling._ - -|Are they like the walls and gates of Babylon, I wonder, these walls and -gates of the capital city of China. I thought so when first I saw them, -and the thought remains with me still. Behind such walls as these surely -sat Ahasuerus, King of Babylon; behind such walls as these dwelt the -thousands of serfs who toiled, and suffered, and died, that he might -be a mighty king. They are magnificent, a wonder of the world, and it -seemed to me that the men of the nation who built them must glory in -them. But all do not. I sat one day at tiffin at a friend's house, and -opposite me sat a Chinese doctor, a graduate of Cambridge, who spoke -English with the leisurely accent of the cultivated Englishman, and he -spoke of these mighty walls. - -“If I had my way,” said he, “they should be levelled with the ground. I -would not leave one stone upon another.” And I wondered why. They shut -out the fresh air, he said, but I wondered, in my own mind, whether he -did not feel that they {041}hemmed the people in, caged and held them -as it were, in an archaic state of civilisation, that it is best should -pass away. They can shut out so little air, and they can only cage and -hold those who desire to be so held. - -Kublai Khan outlined the greater part of them in mud in the thirteenth -century, and then, two hundred years after, came the Ming conquerors who -faced the great Tartar's walls with grey Chinese brick, curtailing them -a little to the north, and as the Mings left them, so are they to-day -when the foreign nations from the West, and that other Asiatic nation -from the East, have built their Legations--pledges of peace--beneath -them and, armed to the teeth, hold, against the Chinese, the Legation -Quarter and a mile of their own wall. - -Over fifty feet high are these Tartar walls, at their base they are -sixty feet through, at their top they are between forty and fifty feet -across, more than a hundred if you measure their breadth at the great -buttresses, and they are paved with the grey Chinese bricks that face -their sides. As in most Chinese cities, the top of the wall is the only -place where a comfortable promenade can be had, and the mile-long -strip between the Chien Men, the main gate, and the Ha Ta Men, the -south-eastern gate--the strip held by the Legations--is well kept; that -is to say, a broad pathway, along which people can walk, is kept smooth -and neat and free from the vegetation that flourishes on most of the -wall top. This vegetation adds greatly to its charm. The mud of the -walls is the rich alluvial deposit of the great plain on which Peking -stands, and when it has been well watered by the summer rains, a -{042}luxuriant green growth, a regular jungle, forces its way up through -the brick pavement. The top of the wall upon a cool autumn day, before -the finger of decay has touched this growth, is a truly delightful -garden. - -[Illustration: 0078] - -It was my great pleasure to walk there, for there were all manner of -flowering green shrubs and tall grasses, bound together by blooming -morning glory, its cup-shaped flowers blue, and pink, and white, and -white streaked with pink; there were even small trees, white poplar -and the ailanthus, or tree of heaven, throwing out shady branches -that afforded shelter from the rays of the brilliant sun. They are not -adequate shelter, though, in a rainstorm. Indeed it is very awkward -to be caught in a rainstorm upon the walls out of the range of the -rickshaws, as I was more than once, for in the hot weather I could never -resist the walls, the only place in Peking where a breath of fresh air -is to be found, and, since it is generally hottest before the rain, on -several occasions I was caught, returning drenched and dripping. It did -not matter as a rule, but once when I was there with a companion a more -than ordinary storm caught us. We sheltered under an ailanthus tree, and -as the wind was strong, umbrellas were useless. My companion began to -get agitated. - -“If this goes on,” said he, “I shan't be able to go out to-morrow. I -have only one coat.” He had come up from Tientsin for a couple of days. -But for me the case was much more serious. I had on a thin white muslin -that began to cling round my figure, and I thought anxiously that if it -went on much longer I should not be able to go into the {043}hotel that -day! However, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, the sun came -out in all his fierceness, and before we reached the hotel I was most -unbecomingly rough dried. - -Things are ordered on the Legation wall, the pathway between the -greenery runs straight as a die, but beyond, on the thirteen miles -of wall under Chinese care, the greenery runs riot, and only a narrow -pathway meanders between the shrubs and grass, just as a man may walk -carelessly from station to station; and sometimes hidden among the -greenery, sometimes standing out against it, are here and there -great upright slabs of stone, always in pairs, relics of the old -fortifications, for surely these are all that remain of the catapults -with which of old the Chinese and Tartars defended their mighty city. - -The walls stand square, north and south, and east and west, only at the -north-west corner does the line slant out of the square a little, for -every Chinese knows that is the only sure way to keep devils out of a -city, and certainly the capital must be so guarded. Whatever I saw and -wondered at, I always came back to the walls, the most wonderful sight -of a most wonderful city, and I always found something new to entrance -me. The watch-towers, the ramps, the gates, the suggestion of old-world -story that met me at every turn. In days not so very long ago these -walls were kept by the Manchu bannermen, whose special duty it was to -guard them, and no other person was allowed upon them, under pain of -death, for exactly the same reason that all the houses in the city are -of one story: it was not seemly that any mere commoner should {044}be -able to look down upon the Emperor, and no women, even the women of the -bannermen, were allowed to set foot there, for it appeared that the God -of War, who naturally took an interest in these defences, objected to -women. - -Now little companies of soldiers take the place of those old-world -bannermen. They look out at the life of the city, at their fellows -drilling on the great plain beyond, at the muddy canal, that is like -a river, making its way across the khaki-coloured plain, that in the -summer is one vast crop of kaoliang--one vivid note of green. Wonderful -fertility you may see from the walls of the Chinese capital. Looking one -feels that the rush of the nations to finance the country is more than -justified. Surely here is the truest of wealth. But the soldiers on the -walls are children. China does not think much of her soldiers, and the -language is full of proverbs about them the reverse of complimentary. -“Good iron is not used for nails,” is one of them, “and good men do -not become soldiers.” How true that may be I do not know, but these men -seemed good enough, only just the babies a fellow-countryman talking of -them to me once called them. They know little of their own country, less -than nothing of any other. I feel they should not be dressed in shabby -khaki like travesties of the men of Western armies, tunics and sandals -and bows and arrows would be so much more in keeping with their -surroundings. And yet so small are they, like ants at the foot of an -oak, that their garb scarcely matters, they but emphasise the vastness -of the walls on which they stand; walls builded probably by men -differing but little from these soldiers of New China. {045}I -photographed a little company one bright day in the early spring--it is -hardly necessary to say it was bright, because all days at that season, -and indeed at most seasons, are brilliantly, translucently bright. -My little company dwelt in a low building made up apparently of -lattice-work and paper close to the observatory, and evidently word went -round that the wonderful thing had been done, and, for all the charm of -the walls, it was not a thing that was often done. I suppose the average -tourist does not care to waste his plates on commonplace little soldiers -in badly made khaki. When next I appeared with the finished picture all -along my route soldiers came and asked courteously, and plainly, for all -I knew not one word of their tongue, what the result had been. I showed -them, of course, and my following grew as I passed on. They knew those -who had been taken, which was lucky, for I certainly could not tell -t'other from which' and, when I arrived at their little house, smiling -claimants stretched out eager hands. I knew the number I had taken and I -had a copy apiece. And very glad I was, too, when they all ranged up and -solemnly saluted me, and then they brought me tea in their handleless -cups, and I, unwashed though I felt those cups were, drank to our -good-fellowship in the excellent Chinese tea that needs neither sugar -nor milk to make it palatable. - -[Illustration: 0084] - -There were other people, too, on the walls in the early springtime, -coolies clearing away the dead growth that had remained over from the -past summer. It was so light it seemed hardly worth gathering, and those -gleaners first taught me to realise something of the poverty of China, -the desperate poverty that {046}dare not waste so much as a handful of -dead grass. They gathered the refuse into heaps, tied it to each end of -their bamboos, and, slinging it over their shoulders, trudged with -it down one of the ramps into the city. Ever and again in my -peregrinations, I would come across one of them sitting in the sun, -going over his padded coat in the odd moments he could spare from his -toil. For the lower-class Chinese understands not the desirability of -water, as applied either to himself or his clothes, and, as he certainly -never changes those clothes while one shred will hold to another, the -moment must arrive, sooner or later, when his discomfort is desperate, -and something must be done. He is like the _wonks_, the great yellow -scavenger dogs that haunt the streets of Peking and all Chinese cities, -he sits down and scratches himself, and goes through his clothes. At -least that was my opinion. A friend of mine who had served for some -years in the interior with the great company, the British and American -Tobacco Company, that, with the missionaries, shares the honour of -doing pioneer work in China, says I am wrong, Chinamen don't mind such a -little thing as that. - -“Those carters,” said he, “in the interior as it gets colder just -pile one garment on over another, and never take anything off, and by -February--phew! If you want to smell a tall smell”--I said I didn't, -the smells of Peking were quite recondite enough for me--but he paid no -attention--“you just go and stand over the k'ang in a room where five or -six of them are crowded together.” - -And the carters, it seems, are highly respectable, sometimes well-to-do -men. I felt I had a lot to {047}learn about the Chinese, these men whose -ancestors had built the walls. - -Of course there are gates in the walls, nine gates in all in the Tartar -City, great archways with iron-studded doors and watch-towers above. -I count it one of the assets of my life, that I have stood under those -archways, where for centuries has ebbed and flowed the traffic of a -Babylonish city, old world still in this twentieth century. They are -lighted with electric light now, instead of with pitch-pine torches, but -no matter, the grey stones are there. - -The gate of a city like Peking is a great affair. Over every archway is -a watch-tower, with tiled roofs rising tier above tier, and portholes -filled with the painted muzzles of guns. Painted guns in the year of our -Lord 1914! So is the past bound up with the present in China! And these -are not entirely relics of the past like the catapult stones. In the -year 1900, when the Boxers looted the Chinese City, and the Europeans -in the Legations north of the Tartar wall trembled for their lives, the -looters burned the watch-tower on the Chien Men, all that was burnable -of it, and, when peace was restored, the Chinese set to work and built -their many-tiered watch-tower, built it in all the glory of red, and -green, and blue, and gold, and in the portholes they put the same -painted cannon that had been there in past ages, not only to strike -terror into the enemy, but also to impress the God of War with an idea -of their preparedness. And yet there was hardly any need of sham, for -these gateways must have been formidable things to negotiate before the -days of heavy artillery, for each is protected by a curtain wall as high -and as thick as the main wall, and in {048}them are archways, sometimes -one, sometimes two, sometimes three ways out, but always there is a -great square walled off in front of the gate so that the traffic must -pause, and may be stopped before it passes under the main archway into -the city. And these archways look down upon a traffic differing but -little from that which has passed down through all the ages. - -Here come the camels from Mongolia, ragged and dusty, laden with grain, -and wool, and fruit, and the camels from the Western Hills, laden with -those “black stones” that Marco Polo noted seven hundred years ago, and -told his fellow-countrymen they burned for heating purposes in Cambulac. -You may see them down by the Ha Ta Men preparing to start out on their -long journey, you may see them in the Imperial City, bringing in their -wares, but outside the south-western gate, by the watch-tower that -guards the corner of the wall, they are to be seen at their best. Here, -where the dust is heaped high under the clear blue sky of Northern -China, come slowly, in stately fashion, the camels, as they have come -for thousands of years. The man who leads them is ragged in the blue -of the peasant, his little eyes are keen, and patient, and cunning, and -there is a certain stolidity in his demeanour; life can hold but few -pleasures for him, one would think, and yet he is human, he cannot go on -superior, regardless of outside things, as does his string of beasts of -burden. The crenellated walls rise up behind them, the watch-tower -with its painted guns frowns down upon them, and the camels, the cord -fastened to the tail of the one in front, passing through the nostrils -of the one {049}behind, go steadily on. They are like the walls, they -are older than the walls, possibly they may outlive the walls; silently, -surely, in the soft, heaped-up dust they move; so they came a thousand -years ago, two thousand years ago, before the very dawn of history. - -These Babylonish gates have for me a never-ending attraction. I look and -look at the traffic, and always find something new. One sunny morning -I went and sat in the Chien Men, just to watch the never-ending throng -that made their way backwards and forwards between the Chinese and the -Tartar Cities. I took up my position in the centre of the great square, -large as Waterloo Place, enclosed by the curtain wall, and the American -Guard looked down upon me and wondered, for they watch the traffic -day in and day out, and so long as it is peaceful, they see nothing to -remark upon in it. There are three gates in the curtain wall, the one -to the south is never opened except for the highest in the land to pass -through, but from the east gate the traffic goes from the Tartar to the -Chinese City, through the west it comes back again, meeting and passing -under the great archway that leads to the Tartar City. And all day long -that square is thronged. East and west of the main archway are little -temples with the golden-brown roofs of all imperial temples, the Goddess -of Mercy is enshrined here, and there are bronze vases and flowering -plants, and green trees in artistic pots, all going to make a quiet -little resting-place where a man may turn aside for a moment from the -rush and roar of the city, burn aromatic incense sticks, and invoke good -fortune for the enterprise on which he is {050}engaged. Do the people -believe in the Goddess of Mercy, I wonder? About as much as I do, -I suspect. The Chinaman, said a Chinese to me once, is the most -materialistic of heathens, believing in little that he cannot see, and -handle, and explain; but all of us, Eastern or Western, are human, and -have the ordinary man's desire for the pitiful, kindly care of some -unseen Power. It is only natural. I, too, Westerner as I am, daughter -of the newest of nations, burned incense sticks at the shrine of the -Goddess of Mercy, and put up a little prayer that the work upon which -I was engaged should be successful. Men have prayed here through the -centuries. The prayer of so great a multitude must surely reach the Most -High, and what matter by what name He is known. - -[Illustration: 0090] - -Besides the temples there are little guard-houses for the soldiers in -the square; guard-houses with delicate, dainty lattice-work windows, -and there are signboards with theatre notices in Chinese on gay red -and yellow paper. There are black and yellow uniformed military police, -there are grey-coated little soldiers with just a dash of red about -their shabby, ill-fitting uniforms, and there are the people passing to -and fro intent on their business, the earning of a cash, or of thousands -of dollars. The earning of a cash, one would think mostly, looking at -many a thing of shreds and patches that passes by. To Western eyes the -traffic is archaic, no great motors rush about carrying crowds at once, -it consists of rickshaws with one or, at most, a couple of fares, of -Peking carts with blue tilts and a sturdy pony or a handsome mule in -the shafts, and the driver seated cross-legged in fronts of longer -carts {051}with wheels studded, as the Peking carts are, and loaded with -timber, with lime, and all manner of merchandise, and drawn sometimes by -three or four underfed little horses, but mostly by a horse or mule in -the shafts and a mule or a donkey so far in front one wonders he can -exert any influence on the traction at all. The rickshaw coolies clang -their bells, men on bicycles toot their horns, every donkey, and most -horses and mules, have rings of bells round their necks, and everyone -shouts at the top of his voice, while forty feet up on the wall, -a foreign soldier, one of the Americans who hold the Chien Men, is -practising all his bugle calls. - -“Turn out, turn out Mess, mess,” proclaims the bugle shrilly above. -“Clang, clang, clang,” ring the rickshaw bells. A postman in shabby -blue, with bands of dirty white, passes on his bicycle and blows his -horn, herald of the ways of the West. A brougham comes along with sides -all of glass, such as the Chinaman loves. In it is a man in a modern -tall hat, a little out-of-date; on the box, are two men in grey silk, -orthodox Chinese costume, queue and all, but alas for picturesqueness -they have crowned their heads with hideous tourist caps, the mafoo -behind on the step, hanging on to the roof by a strap, has on a very -ordinary wideawake, his business it is to jump down and lead the horses -round a corner--no self-respecting Chinese horse can negotiate a corner -without assistance--and the finishing touch is put by the coachman, also -in a tourist cap, who clangs a bell with as much fervour as a rickshaw -coolie. Before this carriage trot outriders. “Lend light, lend light,” - they cry, which is the Eastern way of saying “By your leave, by your -{052}leave. My master a great man comes.” After the coach come more -riders. It may be a modern carriage in which lie rides, but the -important man in China can no more move without his outriders and his -following, than could one of the kings or nobles of Nineveh or Babylon. - -More laden carts come in from the west, and the policeman, in dusty -black and yellow, directs them, though they really need no directing. -The average Chinese mind is essentially orderly, and never dreams of -questioning rules. Is there not a stone exactly in the middle of the -road under the great archway, and does not every man know that those -going east must go one way, and those going west the other? What need -for direction? An old-fashioned fat Chinese with shaven head and pigtail -and sleeveless black satin waistcoat over his long blue coat comes -along. He half-smothers a small donkey with a ring of jingling bells -round its neck, a coolie follows him in rags, but that does not matter, -spring is in the land, and he is nearly hidden by the lilac bloom he -carries, another comes along with a basket strapped on his back and a -scoop in his hand, he is collecting the droppings of the animals, either -for manure or to make argol for fuel, a stream of rickshaws swerve out -of the way of a blind man, ragged, bent, old, who with lute in one hand -and staff in the other taps his way along. - -“Hsien Sheng, before born,” he is addressed by the coolies directing -him, for his affliction brings him outward respect from these courteous -people. - -In the rickshaws are all manner of people: Manchu women with high -head-dresses in the form of a cross, highly painted faces and the gayest -of {053}long silk coats, shy Chinese women, who from their earliest -childhood have been taught that a woman must efface herself. Their hair -is decked with flowers, and dressed low on the nape of their necks, -their coats are of soberer colours, and their feet are pitifully maimed. -“For every small foot,” says a Chinese proverb, “there is a jar full -of tears.” The years of agony every one of those women must have lived -through, but their faces are impassive, smiling with a surface smile -that gives no indication of the feelings behind. - -The Chien Men, because it opens only from the Tartar to the Chinese -City, is not closed, but eight o'clock sees all the gates in the -twenty-three miles of outer wall closed for the night, and very -awkward it sometimes is for the foreigner, who is not used to these -restrictions, for neither threats nor bribes will open those gates once -they are shut. - -I remember on one occasion a young fellow, who had lingered too long -among the delights of the city, found himself, one pleasant warm summer -evening, just outside the Shun Chih Men as the gates of the Chinese City -were closing. He wanted to get back to his cottage at the race-course -but the guardians of the gate were obdurate. “It was an order and the -gates were closed till daylight next morning.” He could not climb the -walls, and even if he could, the two ponies he had with him could not. -He probably used up all the bad language at his command, if I know -anything about him, and he grew more furious when he recollected he had -guests coming to dinner. Then he began to think, and remembered that -the railway came through the wall. Inspection showed him that there -{054}were gates across it, also fast closed, and here he got his second -wind, and quite a fresh assortment of bad language, which was checked by -the whistle of an approaching train. Then a bright idea occurred to him. -Where a train could go, a pony could go, and he stood close to the line -in the darkness, instructed his mafoo to keep close beside him, and the -moment the train passed, got on to the line and followed in its wake, -regardless of the protests of raging gatekeepers. He got through the -gate triumphantly, but then, alas, his troubles began, for the railway -line had not been built with a view to taking ponies through the wall. -There were rocks and barbed wire, there were fences, and there were mud -holes, and his guests are wont to relate how as they were sitting down -to table under the hospitable guidance of his No. 1 boy, there arrived -{054}on the scene a man, mud to the eyes--it was summertime when there -is plenty of mud in the country round Peking--and silent, because no -profanity of which he was capable could possibly have done justice to -his feelings. Such are some of the joys of living in a Babylonish city. - -[Illustration: 0096] - -{055}When I had sat an hour in the gate I rose to go, and the rickshaw coolie -and I disagreed as to the fare. A rickshaw coolie and I never did -agree as to the fare. Gladly would I pay double to avoid a row, but the -coolie, taken from the Legation Quarter of Peking where the tourists -spoil him, would complain and try to extort more if you offered him a -dollar for a ten-cent ride, therefore the thing was not to be avoided. -I did not see my way to getting clear, and a crowd began to gather. Then -there came along a Chinese, a well-dressed young man. - -His long petticoats of silk were slit at the sides, he had on a silken -jacket and a little round cap. He wore no queue, because few of the men -of his generation, and of his rank wear a queue, and he spoke English as -good as my own. - -“What is the matter?” I told him. “How much did you pay him?” - -“Forty cents.” - -“It is too much,” said he, and he called a policeman, and that coolie -was driven off with contumely. But it marked a wonderful stride in -Chinese feeling that a Chinese should come to the assistance of a -foreigner in distress. Not very long ago he would have passed on the -other side, scorning the woman of the outer barbarians, glad in his -heart that she should be “done” even by one so low in the social scale -as a rickshaw coolie, a serf of the great city these ancient walls -enclose. - - - - -CHAPTER IV--THE LEGATION QUARTER OF PEKING - -{056} - -_A forgotten tragedy--The troops--“Lest We Forget”--The fortified -wall--“No low-class Chinese”--The last thing in the way of insults--A -respecter of power--Racing stables--Pekin s'amuse--Chinese gentleman -on a waltz--Musical comedy--The French of the Far East--Chances of an -outbreak--No wounded._ - -|At Canton a few years since,” wrote Sir George Staunton, recording the -visit of the first British Ambassador to the Emperor of China in 1798, -“an accident happened which had well-nigh put a stop to our foreign -trade. Evils of every kind fraught with this tendency are to be -apprehended, and ought to be particularly guarded against, especially by -a commercial nation. On some day by rejoicing in firing the guns of -one of those vessels which navigates between the British settlements in -India and Canton, but not in the employment of the East India Company, -two Chinese, in a boat lying near the vessel, were accidentally killed -by the gunner. The crime of murder is never pardoned in China. The -Viceroy of the Province, fired with indignation at the supposed -atrocity, demanded the perpetrator of the deed, or the person of him who -ordered it. The event was stated in remonstrance to be purely -accidental but the Viceroy, supposing it to have been done from a wicked -disposition, still persisted in his {057}demand, and to assure himself -of that object, he seized one of the principal supercargoes. The other -factories being alarmed, united themselves with the English as in -a common cause, and seemed disposed to resist the intentions of the -Viceroy who on his part arranged his troops on the banks of the river -to force a compliance. It was at last deemed expedient on principles of -policy, to give up the gunner with scarce a glimmering of hope that his -life would be spared.” - -Later on in a casual footnote he records that their worst fears had been -realised, and the unfortunate gunner, given up, let us hope, not so -much from motives of policy as to save the supercargo, had been done to -death. - -That incident, to my mind, explains the Legation Quarter of Peking -to-day. Of course the Legation, in its present form, dates only from -the Boxer rising, but the germ of it was there when the merchants of the -assembled nations felt themselves compelled to sacrifice the careless -gunner “from motives of policy.” One hundred and twenty years ago the -Western nations were only a stage removed from the barbaric civilisation -the Chinese had reached two or three thousand years before, but still -they were moving onward, and they felt they must combine if they would -trade with this rich land, and yet protect their subjects and their -goods. And so they did combine, and there arose that curious state of -affairs between the foreigners and the people of the land that has held -for many years, that holds in no other land, and that has crystallised -in the Legation Quarter of Peking. - -Suppose in London all the great nations of the {058}earth took a strip -of the town, extending say from Marble Arch to Hyde Park Corner, and -from Park Lane to Bond Street, held it and fortified it heavily, -barring out the inhabitants, not wholly, but by certain regulations that -prevented them having the upper hand. The thing is unthinkable, yet that -is exactly what has happened in Peking. Against the Tartar wall, from -the Chien Men to the Ha Ta Men, the nations have taken a parallelogram -of ground all but a mile square, they have heavily fortified it, on -three sides they have cleared a broad glacis on which no houses may -be built, and they have there a body of troops with which they could -overawe if not hold all the town. - -[Illustration: 0102] - -No man knows exactly how many men the Japanese have, but supposing they -are on a par with the other nations, there are at least two thousand -five hundred men armed to the teeth and kept at the highest pitch of -perfection in the Legation Quarter. Living there is like living in an -armed camp. You cannot go in or out without passing forts or guns, -in the streets you meet ammunition wagons, baggage wagons, Red Cross -wagons, and at every turn are soldiers, soldiers of all the European -nations that have any standing at all, soldiers from America, soldiers -from Japan; they are doing sentry-go at the various Legations, they -are drilling, they are marching, they are shooting all day long. In one -corner of the British Legation they keep untouched a piece of the old -shot-torn wall of 1900 and painted on it, in big black letters, is the -legend, “Lest We Forget,” a reminder always, if the nations needed a -reminder, of the days of 1900, of the terrible days that may be repeated -any time this {059}peace-loving nation drifts into an anti-foreign -outbreak. I was going to write it is almost insulting; but it is -insulting, and this armed Legation Quarter must be in truth cruelly -galling to the better-class, educated Chinese. They must long to oust -these arrogant men from the West and their neighbour from the East, who -thus lord it over them in the very heart of their own city. Even the -wall, the great Tartar wall built first by Kublai Khan, and finished by -the Ming conquerors, comes under foreign domination from the Ha Ta Men -to the Chien Men. The watch-tower over the Ha Ta Men is still in the -hands of the Chinese, and like most things Chinese is all out of repair. -The red lacquer is cracked, the gold is faded, the grass grows on the -tiled roofs, in the winter dried-up and faded, in the summer lush and -green, and for all the Chinese soldiers hold it, it is desolate and a -thing of the past But a hundred yards or so to the west, is the German -post. Always are armed men there with the eagle on their helmets, always -an armed sentry marches up and down, keeping watch and ward. No great -need for them to hold the Ha Ta Men, their guns dominate it, and below -in the town the French hold carefully the fortified eastern side of -the Legation Quarter. The centre of that strip of wall, held by the -Japanese, is marked by an iron fence called, I am told, a “traverse.” - There is a gate in it, and across the path to that gate, so that it may -not be so easily got through, is built up a little wall of brick the -height of a man. In the summertime the grass grows on it green and -fresh, and all the iron bars of that fence and gate are wreathed -in morning glory. The Japanese are not so much in evidence as the -{060}efficient Germans or the smart Americans, but I am told they are -more than keen, and would gladly and effectually hold the whole wall -would the other nations allow them. At the Chien Men, the western end -of the mile-long strip of wall are the Americans, tall, lean, smart, -capable men in khaki, with slouch hats turned up at the sides, -clean-shaven faces and the sound in their voices that makes of their -English another tongue. In the troubles of 1912, when fires were -breaking out all over the city, and every foreigner fled for safety -to his Legation, Uncle Sam, guarding the western end of the wall -overlooking those Legations, seized the beautiful new watch-tower on the -Chien Men, his soldiers established themselves there, and they hold it -still. It dominates their Legation they say with reason, for their own -safety they must hold it, and the Chinese acquiesce, not because they -like it, but because they must. Periodically representations come in, -all is quiet now, the Americans may as well give up the main gate, or -rather watch-tower, for they do not hold the main gate, only the tower -that overlooks it. But the answer is always the same, it overlooks their -Legation, they must hold it. They have a wireless telegraph post there -and a block-house, and the regulations for the sentry, couched in cold, -calm, official language, are an insult to the friendly nation that gives -them hospitality, or would be so, if that nation had not shown itself -incapable of controlling the passions of its own aroused people. The -sentry clad in khaki in summer, in blue in winter, marching up and down -by the watch-tower, magnificent in its gorgeous Eastern decorations -of blue, and green, and red, and barbaric gold, must report at once -anything {061}unusual taking place in the gate below, any large -gathering of Chinese, any unusual commotion, but above all upon that -wall, that wall that belongs to them and is the wall of their capital -city, he must not allow, without a permit, any Chinese. The wording of -the order runs, “No low-class Chinese,” but the definition of low class -is left to the discretion of the soldier, and he is not likely to risk -a reproof from those in authority over him by being too lax. With my -own eyes have I seen a Chinese, well-dressed in European clothes, turned -back by the sentry from the ramp when he would have walked upon the -wall. He looked surprised, he was with European friends, the order -could not apply to him, but the sentry was firm. He had his orders, “No -Chinese,” and without a special permit he must see them carried out. It -seemed cruel, and unnecessarily humiliating, but on the central ramp -are still the places where the Americans, seeking some material for a -barricade, fighting to save themselves from a ghastly death, tore -out the bricks from the side of the great wall. Other nations beside -Britain, write in their actions, if not on their walls: “Lest We -Forget!” The lower-class Chinese probably do not mind the prohibition. -It is considered bad manners for a Chinaman to walk upon the wall, -because he thereby overlooks the private houses below, but in these days -of the New Republic possibly good manners are not so much considered as -formerly, and since the Chinese have never been allowed upon the wall -they probably do not realise that thirteen miles of it are free to them, -if they care to go there. Some few I know do, because I have met there -men gathering the dried vegetation for fuel, and I have {062}seen one or -two beggars, long-haired, filthy men in the frowsiest of rags, but the -first have probably got permission from the soldiers, and the latter, -seeing foreigners there, have most likely been tempted by the hope of -what to them is a lavish dole, and, finding no harm happen, have come -again. I may be wrong, of course, but I hardly think death can have much -terror for the Chinese beggar, life must hold so very little for him. -Those who, having dared their own portion of the wall with impunity, -find the foreign mile still a forbidden place to them, probably put it -in the same category as the Forbidden City, and never realise that it -is the outlander, the outer barbarian, and not their own Government that -shuts them off. - -But the holding of that wall by an armed force, that dominates both the -Chinese and the Tartar Cities, seems to me the very greatest thing -in the way of insults. Some day when the Chinese are a united nation, -powerful as they ought to be, they will awake to that insult, and -the first thing they will do will be to clear their wall from foreign -interference. Meanwhile, as I sit in a courtyard of a temple of the -Western Hills, drinking in the sparkling air of September, looking -at the lovely blue sky peeping through the dark green branches of the -temple pines, as I sit and write this book, I think gratefully of that -loose-limbed, lissom, athletic, young American soldier who, with rifle -across his shoulder, is doing sentry-go upon the wall. The German is -there too, the stiff, well-drilled, military German, but my heart goes -out to the man who is nearer akin, and whose speech is not unlike that -of the people of my own land. It seems to me I am {063}safe here, alone -among the Chinese, because of those soldiers. There are those who will -say I am wrong, that the Chinese are always courteous, and that they -like me because of the money I put into their pockets. And that is true -enough too. I have found the very rickshaw coolie a finished, courteous -gentleman in his manner towards me, and I have received many little acts -of kindness which could but come from a kindly heart, with no thought of -profit behind it; but still, deep down at the bottom of my heart, I know -that the Chinese, more than any man on earth perhaps, respects power, -and the Legation Quarter, and the holding of that wall, are an outward -manifestation of power that reaches far and keeps me safe here in -my mountain temple. The gods here by my side are dead, who fears or -respects the gods, Spanish chestnuts are stored beside their altars, but -the foreign soldiers on the wall are a fact there is no getting over. -It impresses those in authority, and the fiat goes forth, permeating -through all classes, “The foreigner is not to be touched under any -circumstances whatever.” - -On this wall come the foreign community to exercise and promenade in -the cool of the evening in summer, or to enjoy the sunshine at midday -in winter, and here all the soldiers and sailors of the various -nationalities foregather. There is no other place in all Peking where -one can walk with comfort, for the Chinese as a nation, have no idea of -the joy of exercise. They have put it out of the power of their women -to move save with difficulty, and that a man should take any pleasure in -violent exercise seems to them absurd. To walk when he {064}can ride in -a rickshaw, or mount a donkey, would argue something wrong in his mental -outlook, so it happens that, in all the great city, there are only the -streets of the Legation Quarter and the wall where walking exercise -can be indulged in. The streets of the Quarter are the streets of an -uninteresting, commonplace town, but the wall overlooking the two cities -is quite another matter. Here the part of the foreign community that -does not ride takes its exercise, and foregathers with its kind. - -[Illustration: 0110] - -[Illustration: 0111] - -The foreign quarter is not always thinking of the dangers it is guarding -against. That it thinks also a great deal of its amusement, goes without -saying. I have observed that this is a special characteristic of the -Briton abroad. At home the middle-class man--or woman--is chary of -pleasure, taking it as if it were something he had hardly a right -to; but abroad he seizes eagerly the smallest opportunity for amusing -himself, demanding amusement as something that hardly compensates him -for his exile from his native land. So it has come that I, a looker-on, -with less strong bonds than those from the Old Country binding me to my -father's land, fancy that these exiles have in the end a far better time -than the men of the same class who stay at home. I am apt to have no -pity for them whatever. - -One thing is certain, people keep horses here in Peking who could not -dream of such a luxury in England. True, they are only ponies fourteen -hands high, but a great deal of fun can be got out of pony racing. And -racing-stables are a feature of the Quarter. Not that they are in the -Quarter. {065}On the plain, about five miles to the west of the city, -lies the little race-course, and dotted about within easy distance of -this excellent training-ground are the various training-stables for the -ponies. The China pony comes from Mongolia, where close watch and ward -is kept over him, and neither mares nor stallions are exported. - -“If I could only get hold of a mare,” sighs the young racing man, but he -sighs in vain. Meanwhile he can indulge in the sport of kings cheaply. - -“I've joined another fellow in a racing-stable,” said a man to me, soon -after my arrival in Peking, and I looked upon him with something of the -awe and respect one gives to great wealth. I had not thought he was so -well off. He saw my mistake and laughed. - -“The preliminary expenses are only thirty pounds,” he went on, “and -I don't intend they shall be very heavy. We can have good sport at a -moderate cost.” Of course moderate cost is an elastic term, depending on -the purse of the speaker, but in this case I think it meant that men -of very ordinary means, poor exiles who would live in a six-roomed flat -with a couple of maidservants in England, might have a good time without -straining those means unduly. - -A race-meeting in Peking has peculiarities all its own. Of course it -is only the men from the West who would think of a race-meeting. The -Chinese, except at the theatre, do not amuse themselves in crowds. - -The Spring Meeting took place early in May, and the description of it -should come a little later in my book, but it seems to fall naturally -into {066}the story of the doings of the Legation Quarter. Arrangements -were made with the French railway running to Hankow to stop close to -the course, and put the race-going crowd down there. There was no other -means of getting there, except by riding; for driving in a country where -every inch of ground, save a narrow and rough track, is given over -to the needs of agriculture, is out of the question. That spring -race-meeting the day was ideal. There was the blue sky overhead, the -brilliant sunshine, a gentle breeze to temper it, the young kaoliang was -springing, lush and green, in the fields, and the ash-trees that shelter -the race-course were one delicate tender green. A delicious day. Could -the heart of man desire more? Apparently the foreign residents of Peking -did not desire more, for they turned out, men, women, and children. And -then I saw what a handful of people are these foreigners who live in -the capital of China and endeavour to direct her destinies, for save and -except the missionary element, most of the other foreigners were there, -from his Britannic Majesty's representative to the last little boy who -had joined a hong as junior clerk at a hundred dollars a month, and -felt that the cares of Empire were on his shoulders. They were mostly -British, of course, the foreign trade of China--long may it be so--is -mostly in British hands; and there were representatives of every other -great nation, the Ministers of France, Germany, Russia, of Italy, -Austria, Spain, Belgium, Holland, and Japan, everyone but America, for -America was busy recognising the Chinese Republic, and the other nations -were smiling, and wondering why the nation that prides {067}itself on -being the champion of freedom for the people, was being the first to -recognise what is, virtually, a despotic rule. - -The little course, a mile round, is marked out with leafy ash-trees, the -grand-stand was charming with lilac bloom purple and white, and -banksia roses, fragrant as tender memories. It was shaded by -p'engs--mats--raised high on scaffolding, so that pleasant shade might -not interfere with the cool breeze, and here were the women of the -community, the women of well-to-do people, gay in dainty toilets from -London and Paris; the men were in light summer suits, helmets and straw -hats, for summer was almost upon us. Tiffin, the luncheon of the East, -was set in the rooms behind, decorated with miniature flags of all -nations, made in Japan, and wreathed with artificial flowers, though -there was a wealth of natural blossom around the stand outside. There -is a steward's room and the weighing-room in one tiny building with a -curved roof of artistic Chinese design, and all the ponies are walked -about and saddled and mounted where every interested spectator can see -them. And every spectator on that sunny May day was interested, for -the horses, the sturdy Chinese ponies, were, and always are, owned and -ridden by the men of the company, men whom everybody knows intimately. -For these Peking race-meetings are only amateur, and though, -occasionally, a special pony may change hands at two thousand -dollars--two hundred pounds--the majority are bought and sold under two -hundred dollars--twenty pounds--and yet their owners have much joy and -pride in them. - -Surely it is unique, a race-meeting where all the {068}civilised nations -of the earth meet and fraternise in simple, friendly fashion, taking a -common pleasure in small things. - -“They're off!” Mostly the exclamation was in English, but a -Russian-owned horse, ridden by a Cossack rider, won one race, and was -led proudly up to the weighing-room by a fair lady of his own people, -and was cordially applauded, for the winner was always applauded, no -matter what his nationality. - -The horses, coming out to parade, were each led by their own mafoo, -who managed to look horsey in spite of a shaven head, long queue, and -pronounced Chinese features. Up and down they led the ponies, up and -down, and when at last the precious charges must be resigned, a score of -them squatted down just where they could get the best view of the -race, and doubtless each man put up a little prayer to the god he most -affected, that the pony that carried his money might come in first. - -When we were not watching the saddling, or the parade, or the race, -or the weighing-in, we were listening to a Chinese band, Sir Robert -Bredon's band, with a Chinese conductor, playing selections from all the -modern Western music. It might have been--where in the world might it -not have been? Nowhere but in Peking in the heart of China surely, for -there, just beyond the limit of the course, were long strings of camels -bound for coal to the Western Hills, marching steadily, solemnly, -tirelessly, as they marched in the days of Marco Polo, and a thousand -years before the days of Marco Polo, and all round the course, crowding -every point of vantage were a large concourse of Chinese, people {069}of -the working and middle classes, clad mostly in blue, the women with -bound feet from the farms near by, the men and the children very likely -from further afield, but all unchanging as the camels themselves, -eagerly watching the foreigners' sports. They are not allowed to come -into the enclosure, every mafoo and attendant wears a special badge, and -even Chinese of the better class may come only by special invitation -of some member. These interested folk, who have no friends among the -foreigners may not even go into the enclosure, where the “Tommies” and -bluejackets, men from England and America, France, Japan, and all the -countries of the earth crowded in the gay sunshine making high holiday. -Nevertheless the Orientals surrounded the course. They got upon the -mounds of earth that are at the back and looked from that vantage-point -not only at the races but at the foreign devils at their tiffin and -afternoon tea. Their own refreshment was provided by hawkers selling -cakes and sweetmeats, just outside the forbidden ground, and Peking -carts and donkeys waited round to take them back to their homes. There -were even beggars there, beggars with long, unkempt hair, wrapped in -a single garment of sackcloth, ragged, unwashed, unkempt, the typical -beggars of China, for no one knows better than they when money is being -lightly handled, and as the bright sunny day, the gorgeous spring day -of Northern China drew slowly to a close doubtless even they, whom every -man's hand was against, gathered in a few stray cash. I hope they did. -Such a very little makes so much difference in China. - -The sun sank slowly to the west in the translucent {070}sky, the ponies -in the saddling paddock were walked slowly up and down in the long -shadows of the ash-trees, and the country was beautiful with the soft -regret of the dying day as we walked back through the fields of kaoliang -to the railway station, we, the handful of people who represented the -power and majesty of the Western world. The mighty walls of an older -civilisation frowned down upon the train--this thing of yesterday--the -last rays of the setting sun lighted up all the glory of the red and -gold of the Chien Men watch-tower and we were in the Legation Quarter -once more, with armed sentries at the gates, and the American soldier -upon the wall sounding the bugle call for the changing guard. - -I come from a country where every little township considers a -race-course as necessary as a cemetery. I have been to many many -race-meetings, but this one in Peking, where the men of the land are so -barred out that no one of Chinese descent may belong to the Club or even -ride a race, stands out as unique. It has a place in my mind by itself. -It was so expressive of the attitude of the Powers who watch over -China. Peking, the Peking of the Legations had been amusing herself. The -National Assembly was in an uproar, the Premier was openly accused of -murder, the Loan was in anything but a satisfactory state, everyone -feared that the North and the South would be at each other's throats -before the month was out, the air was full of rumours of wars, but the -English-speaking community love racing, the other nations, from their -Ministers downwards, had fallen into line, and Peking, foreign Peking, -did itself well. - -And I wondered, I wondered much what the {071}Chinese thought of it all. -It is very, very difficult, so men tell me who have lived in China long, -and speak the language well, to get at the bottom of the Chinese mind, -to know what they really do think of us. The Chinese gentleman is so -courteous that as far as possible he always expresses the opinion he -thinks you would like to hear, and the Chinese woman, even if she be of -the better classes, with very few exceptions is unlearned and ignorant -as a child, indeed she is worse than a child of the Western nations, for -the child is at least allowed to ask questions and learn, while all her -charm is supposed to depend upon her subservience and her ignorance. -As I stood on the race-course that day, and many a time as I sat in -the lounge of the Wagons Lits Hotel--the European hotel of the Legation -Quarter--where all tourists visiting Peking come, where the nations of -the world foregather, and East meets West as never before perhaps in the -world's history have they met, I have wondered very much indeed what the -East, the portly middle-aged Chinaman with flowing silken robes and -long queue thinks of us and our manners and customs. He was accompanied -perhaps by a friend, or perhaps by a lady in high collar and trousers -with a little son, the crown of the child's head shaven, and the -remaining hair done in a halo of little plaits tied up with string, -yellow, red, or blue, and he watched gravely either the dancing, or the -conversation, or the conjurer, or whatever other amusement the “Wagons -Lits” had for the time being set up. Again and again have I watched him, -but I could never even make a guess at what he thought. Probably it was -anything but complimentary. - -[Illustration: 0119] - -{072}“The men dressed for dinner,” said a Chinese once, describing an -evening he had spent among foreigners; “then the order was given and the -women stripped,” that is took off their wraps when the music began, only -everything is “ordered” in China, “and each man seized a woman in his -arms. He pushed her forward, he pulled her back,” graphic illustrations -were given, “he whirled round and round and she had no will of her own. -And it was all done to horrible music.” - -Everything is in the point of view, and that is how, at least one -Chinese gentleman saw a waltz. I used to wonder what he said of the -musical comedy that from time to time is presented by a wandering -company in the dining-room of the Wagons Lits Hotel. They displayed -upon a tiny crowded stage, for the edification of Chinese and foreigners -alike, for the room was crowded with Chinese both of the old and of the -new order, such a picture of morals as Europeans take as a matter of -course. We know well enough that such scenes as are depicted in “The -Girl in the Taxi” are merely the figments of an exuberant imagination, -and are not the daily habits of any class either in London or Paris. But -what do the Chinese think? All things are necessary and good, I suppose, -but some are difficult to explain. Thirteen years ago the Boxer tragedy, -now the musical comedy full of indecencies scarcely veiled. - -Truth to tell, it was a very interesting thing for a new-comer like me -to sit in that hotel watching the people, and listening to the various -opinions so freely given by all and sundry. From all parts of the world -people come there, tourists, soldiers, {073}sailors, business men, -philanthropists'--men who were working for the good of China, and men -who were ready to exploit her. And then the opinions as to the safety of -the Europeans in China that were expressed! Here, in the security of the -Legation Quarter, I collected those opinions as I wanted to go into the -interior, and I was by no means anxious to risk my life. - -To arrive at any decision was very difficult. In the Treaty Ports there -may be some unanimity, but once outside it seemed that every man had his -own particular opinion of China and the Chinese, and all these opinions -differed widely. - -“Safe,” said a man who had fought through the Boxer trouble; “safer far -than London. They had to pay then, and they won't forget, you can take -your oath of that.” - -“Like living on a volcano,” said another. “No, I shall never forget the -Boxer trouble. That's the kind of thing that is graved on your mind with -hot irons. Do it again? Of course they'll do it again. A docile people, -I grant you, but they're very fiends when they're aroused. They're -emotional, you know, the French of the Far East, and when they let -themselves go------” He paused, and I realised that he had seen them let -themselves go, and no words could describe the horror of it. “Would I -let my wife and children live in one of the hu t'ungs of Peking? Would -I? How would they get away when the trouble commenced?” - -The chances are they couldn't get away. The hu t'ungs of Peking are -narrow alley-ways running out from the main thoroughfares, and the -houses there are built, Chinese fashion, round courtyards {074}and -behind blank walls, hidden away in a nest of other buildings, and the -difficulty of getting out and back to the armed Legation Quarter, when a -mob were out bent on killing, would be enormous. - -“A Debt Commission spells another anti-foreign outbreak, and we're -within an ace of a Debt Commission,” said another man thoughtfully; -“and if there is a row and things look like going against us, I keep one -cartridge in my revolver for myself.” It does not seem much when I write -it down, such things have I heard carelessly said many a time before, -but when I, a foreigner and a solitary woman, was contemplating a trip -up-country, they had a somewhat sinister sound. - -On the other hand again and again have I heard men scout all idea of -danger, men who have been up and down the country for years. And yet -but yesterday, the day before I write these words, a man looked at his -pretty young wife, she was sweetly pretty, and vowed vehemently, “I -would not leave my wife and child alone for a night in our house just -outside the Quarter for anything on earth. If anything did happen--and -it might------” and he dropped his voice. There are some things that -will not bear thinking about, and he had seen the looting of Nanking and -the unfortunates who had died when they took the Woosung Forts. “We went -to look after the wounded,” said he, “and there weren't any wounded. -The savage Northern soldiery had seen to that.” And those whom they -mutilated were their own people! What would they do to a foreigner in -the event of an anti-foreign outbreak? - -“Are you afraid?” I asked a man who certainly lived far enough away in -the city. {075}He looked at me curiously, as if he were going to say -there was nothing to be afraid of, and then he changed his mind. - -“Perhaps I am when I think of it,” said he; “but then you see, I don't -think of it.” - -And that is the average attitude, the necessary attitude, because no man -can perpetually brood over the dangers that might assail him. Certain -precautions he takes to safeguard himself, here are the nations armed -to the teeth in the heart of a friendly country, and for the rest _Quien -sabe?_ - -And I talked with all men, and while I was making preparations to go -into the interior, had the good-fortune to see a quaint and curious -pageant that took me back to Biblical days and made me remember how -Vashti the Queen was cast down, and the beautiful Esther found favour in -the sight of her lord, and how another tragic Hebrew Queen, going down -to posterity with a name unjustly smirched and soiled, had once painted -her face and tired her head, and looking out of the window had defied to -the death her unfaithful servant. “Had Zimri peace who slew his master?” - - - - -CHAPTER V--THE FUNERAL OF AN EMPRESS - -{076} - -_A good republican--The restricted Empire of the Manchus--Condign -punishment--Babylon--An Adventurous Chinaman--The entrance to the -Forbidden City--The courtyards of Babylon--A discordant and jarring -note--Choirs of priests--A living Buddha--“The Swanee River”--The last -note in bathos--Palace eunuchs--Out of hand--Afternoon tea--The funeral -procession--The imperial bier--Quaint and strange and Eastern._ - -|The Dowager-Empress of China, the unloved wife and widow of the late -Emperor, died, so they gave out to the world, on the 22nd February, -1913, the day I arrived in China. As Empress, just one of the women -of the Court chosen to please the ruler and to bear him children, his -consort in China never seems to have had any particular standing. This -Empress was overshadowed by her aunt, the great Dowager-Empress whom all -the world knew, but once the Emperor was dead, as one of the guardians -of the baby Emperor she came into a certain amount of power, for the -position of Dowager-Empress seems to be an official one as, since her -death, another woman who has never been wife to an Emperor has been -appointed to the post. - -The power has gone from the Manchus, but China is wedded to her past, -nothing passes, so even the Chinese Republic, the men who barely a year -before {077}had ousted the Empress from her high estate, united in doing -her honour at her obsequies. - -“She was the best republican of us all,” said a Chinese gentleman, -learned in the lore and civilisation of the West, “for she freely gave -up her position that China might be free.” - -It was a pretty way of putting it, but to me it seems doubtful whether -anyone in over-civilised China trammelled with many conventions, -is free, and it is hardly likely that a woman bred to think she had -attained the most important position in the world that can fall to a -woman's lot, would give it up freely for the good of a people she -knew absolutely nothing about. All the Manchus rule over now are -the courtyards and palaces of the Forbidden City, and there they are -supreme. It is whispered that only a week before the day of which I -write, a man was there beaten to death for having stolen something -belonging to the dead Empress. So much for the love of the Manchus -for freedom and enlightenment. It carries one back to the Middle -Ages--further, to Babylon. - -“They slew there mercilessly, and they also feasted--so did the -representatives of the dead Empress hold high festival in her honour. - -“The King made a feast unto all the people that were present in Shushan -the palace, both unto great and small, seven days, in the Court in the -garden of the King's palace. - -“Where were white, green, and blue hangings fastened with cords of fine -linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble, the beds were of -gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and white, and black -marble. - -{078}“And they gave them drink in vessels of gold... and royal wine in -abundance, according to the state of the King.” - -So Ahasuerus the King entertained his people of Babylon, when Vashti the -Queen fell, and of Babylon only could I think when, first I entered the -Forbidden City. - -[Illustration: 0129] - -Standing on the walls of Peking, a city of the plain, you look down upon -twelve square miles of grey-tiled roofs, the roofs of one-storied houses -hidden in the summertime by a forest of trees, but in the heart of -the city are high buildings that stand out not only by reason of their -height but because the roofs of golden-brown tiles, imperial yellow, -gleam and glow in the sunlight. This is the Forbidden City where has -dwelt for hundreds of years the Emperor of China, often he must have -been the only man in it, and always it was closed to all save the -immediate following of the Son of Heaven. - -I never realised till I came to Peking that this forbidden ground was -just as much an object of curiosity to the Chinese as it would have been -to any European nation. - -“I went in once,” said a Chinese gentleman to me, “when I was a young -man.” He was only forty then. - -“Were you invited?” - -“No, no. I went secretly. I wanted to see what it was like.” - -“But how?” - -“I got the dress of a eunuch and I slipped in early one morning, and -then, when I got in, I hardly dared move or breathe for fear someone -should find me out. Then when no one took any notice of me I {079}walked -about and saw everything I could, but the last hour was the worst, I was -terrified at the thought that I might not be able to get out.” - -“And if you had been caught?” - -He looked grave even then at the remembrance of that bygone desperate -adventure. - -“Oh death, certainly.” - -“Death?” - -“Yes, a long and lingering death,” and the thought of what he had -escaped twenty years ago, was on his face. - -I looked at him with interest, a tall stout Chinaman with his hair cut -short in the modern fashion, a long grey robe of silk reaching to his -feet, and a little short black sleeveless jacket over it. He did not -look, pleasant as he was, as if he would ever have dared anything, but -then I have never thought of any Chinaman as likely to risk his life -without hope of gain, and to risk it for mere curiosity as a man of my -own people might have done! It was throwing a new light on the Chinese. -I rather admired him and then I found he was Eastern after all. - -We talked of Yuan Shih K'ai, and he, being of the opposition party, -expressed his opinion freely, and, considering all things, very boldly -about him. - -“He has eighteen wives,” said he shaking his head as if this was the -unpardonable sin in a man who desired to imitate the manners and customs -of the West. - -I repeated this to a friend, and he burst out laughing. “Why the old -sinner,” said he, “what's he throwing stones for? He's got seventeen and -a half himself!” {080}So it seems it will be some time before forbidden -cities on a small scale will be out of fashion in China. - -And still, in these days of the Republic, the Forbidden City of the -Manchus dominates Peking. - -It was thrown open for three days to all who could produce a black paper -chrysanthemum with five leaves, red, yellow, blue, black, and white, -fastened to a tab of white paper with a mourning edge and an inscription -in Chinese characters. The foreigners had theirs from their Legations, -and the Chinese from their guilds. And those Chinese--there are many -of them--who are so unlucky as to belong to no guild, Chinese of the -humbler sort, were shut out, and for them there was erected on the great -marble bridge in front of the southern entrance, a pavilion of gorgeous -orange silk enclosing an altar with offerings that stood before a -picture of the dead Empress, so that all might pay their respects. - -I pinned my badge to the front of my fur coat, for it was keen and cold -in spite of the brilliant sunshine, and went off to the wrong entrance, -the eastern gate, where only princes and notables were admitted. -I thought it strange there should be no sign of a foreigner, but -foreigners in Peking can be but as one in a hundred or less, so -undismayed, I walked straight up to the gate, and immediately a row of -palace servants clad in their white robes of mourning, clustered before -the sacred place. They talked and explained vehemently, and with perfect -courtesy, but they were very agitated, and though I could not understand -one word they said, one thing was certain, admitted I could not be -there. So I turned to the southern gate and there it seemed all Peking -was streaming. {081}It was like China that we might not go in the direct -way. - -There is a great paved way through the Imperial City alongside a canal -that runs between marble-lined banks, but on the principal bridge that -crosses it was erected the orange silk pavilion for the poorer classes, -and we, the wearers of the black chrysanthemum, hundreds and thousands -and ten thousands of us, had to turn off to the right and go along by -the tall, pinkish red walls till we came to the great archways in the -walls, five great archways filled in with doors studded with great -brazen knobs. Usually they were fast shut, but they were open to-day, -guarded by soldiers in full-marching order, soldiers of the New Republic -in modern khaki looking out of the picture, and there streamed into the -tunnellike entrance as curious a crowd as ever I set eyes upon. All -must walk, old and young, great and lowly, representatives of the mighty -nations of the world and tottering Chinese ladies swaying like “lilies -in the wind” upon their maimed feet, only one man, a Mongol Prince, an -Incarnation of a Buddha, a living Buddha, was borne in in a sedan chair. -But every other mortal had to walk. The tunnels must always be gloomy, -and, even on that cold day, they struck chill after the brilliant -sunlight, and they are long, for the walls, just here, are about -ninety feet through, so might the entrances have been in the palace -of Ahasuerus the King. The courtyard we first entered had a causeway -running right across it of great hewn stones, hewn and laid by slave -labour, when all men bowed before the Son of Heaven, hundreds of years -ago. They are worn in many places now, worn by the passing of many -{082}feet, and still more worn are the grey Chinese bricks that pave -the courtyard on either side. It is a great courtyard of splendid -proportions. In front of us frowned more high walls of pinkish red, -topped by the buildings that can be seen all over Peking, temples or -halls of audience with golden-brown tiled roofs that gleamed in -the sunlight, and on either side were low buildings with fronts of -lattice-work rather fallen into disrepair. They might have been used as -guard-houses or, more probably, were the quarters of the six thousand or -so of eunuchs that the dignity of the ruler required to attend upon him. -There were a few trees, leafless then in March, but there was nothing -to spoil the dignity and repose of every line. A great mind surely -conceived this entrance, and great must have been the minds that kept it -so severely simple. If it be the heart of a nation then do I understand. -The people who streamed along the causeway, who roamed over the worn -brick pavement, had, as a rule, delicate, finely formed hands though -they were but humble craftsmen. If the hands of the poorest be so fine, -is it any wonder that the picked men of such a people, their very heart, -conceived such a mighty pile? There were more, longer and gloomier -tunnels, admitting to a still greater courtyard, a courtyard that must -be at least a quarter of a mile across, with the same causeway of worn -stones that cry out the tale of the sufferings of the forgotten slaves, -who hewed them and dragged them into place, the same grey pavement of -bricks, the same tall smooth red walls, crowned over the gateway with -temples, rising one story after another till the tiled roof cuts the -sky. And through a third set of tunnels we came into a third courtyard, -{083}the courtyard where the obsequies were being held. The third -courtyard was spacious as Trafalgar Square, and round three sides was a -wide raised platform of stone reached by broad and easy ramps, and -all across it ran a canal held in by marble banks, crossed by graceful -bridges, and every one of the uprights, made of white marble, was -crowned by a figure that I took for the representation of a flame; but -those, who know, tell me it is meant to represent a cloud, and is part -of the dragon symbolism. When marble is the medium by which so light a -thing as a cloud is represented it must be very finely done indeed, when -one outside the national thought, such as I, sees in that representation -a flame. Two colossal bronze monsters with grinning countenances and -curly manes, conventional lions, mounted on dragon-carved pedestals, -stand before the entrance to the fourth temple or hall of audience, and -here was what the crowd had come to see, the lighthearted, cheerful, -merry crowd, that were making high holiday, here was the altar to the -dead. - -Overhead were the tiled roofs, and of all the colours of the rainbow -surely none could have been chosen better than the golden brown of those -tiles to harmonise with the clear blue of the glorious sky above it, no -line to cut it could have been so appropriate as the gentle sweep of the -curve of a Chinese roof. There was a little grass growing on the roofs, -sere and withered, but a faint breeze just stirred its tops, and it -toned with the prevailing golden brown in one glorious beauty. Where -else in the world could one get such an effect? Only in Australia have I -seen such a sky, and there it was never wedded to such a glow of colour -as that it looks down {084}upon in Peking. The men who built this palace -in a bygone age, built broadly, truly, for all time. - -[Illustration: 0137] - -And then, it was surely as if some envious spirit had entered in and -marred all this loveliness--no, that would be impossible, but struck a -discordant and jarring note that should perhaps emphasise in our minds -the beauty that is eternal--for all the front of that temple, which as -far as I could see was pinkish red, with under the eaves that beautiful -dark blue, light blue, and green, that the Chinese know so well how to -mingle, was covered with the most garish, commonplace decorations, made -for the most part of paper, red, violent Reckitt's blue, yellow, and -white. From every point of vantage ran strings of flags, cheap common -little flags of all nations, bits of string were tied to the marble -clouds, and they fluttered from them, and the great wonderful bronze -lions contrived to look coy in frills that would not have disgraced a -Yorkshire ham. The altar on the northern platform was hidden behind a -trellis-work of gaily coloured paper, and there were offerings upon it -of fruit and cakes in great profusion, all set out before a portrait of -the late Empress. On either side were two choirs of priests, Buddhists -and Taoists in gorgeous robes of red and orange. What faith the dead -Empress held I do not know, but the average Chinese, while he is the -prince of materialists, believing nothing he cannot see and explain, -has also a keen eye to the main chance, and on his death-bed is apt to -summon priests of all faiths so as to let no chance of a comfortable -future slip; but possibly it was more from motives of policy than from -any idea of aiding the dead woman that these representatives of the -two great faiths of China were {085}summoned. On the rights behind a -trellis-work of bright paper, one choir sat in a circle, beat gongs, -struck their bells and intoned; and on the left, behind a like -trellis-work, the other choir knelt before low desks and also solemnly -intoned. Their Mongolian faces were very impassive, they looked neither -to the right nor the left, but kept time to the ceaseless beat of their -leader's stick upon a globe of wood split across the middle like a -gaping mouth emblematical of a fish and called mu yii--or wooden fish. -What were they repeating? Prayers for the dead? Eulogies on her who had -passed? Or comfort for the living? Not one of these things. Probably -they were intoning Scriptures in Tibetan, an unknown tongue to them -very likely, but come down to them through the ages and sanctified by -thousands of ceaseless repetitions. - -And the people came, passed up the steps, bowed by the direction of the -usher--in European clothes--three times to the dead Empress's portrait, -and the altar, were thanked by General Chang, the Military Commandant, -and passed on by the brightly clad intoning priests down into the crowd -in the great courtyard again. It was weird to find myself taking part in -such a ceremony. Stranger still to watch the people who went up and down -those steps. In all the world surely never was such an extraordinary -funeral gathering. I am very sure that never shall I attend such -another. There was such a mingling of the ancient and the blatantly -modern. To the sound of weird, archaic, Eastern music the living Buddha, -clad all in yellow, in his yellow sedan chair, borne by four bearers in -dark blue with Tartar caps on their heads, made his reverence, and was -followed {086}by a band of Chinese children from some American mission -school, who, with misguided zeal sang fervently at the top of their -shrill childish voices “Down by the Swanee River” and “Auld Lang -Syne,” and then soldiers in modern uniform of khaki or bright blue were -followed by police officers in black and gold. The wrong note was struck -by the “Swanee River,” the high officials dwelt upon it, for the -Chinese does not look to advantage in these garbs, he looks what he is -makeshift, a bad imitation, and the jarring was only relieved when the -Manchu princes came in white mourning sheepskins and black Tartar caps. -They may be dissolute and decadent, have all the vices that new China -accuses them of, but at least they looked polished and dignified -gentlemen, at their ease and in their place. It does not matter, -possibly. The President once said that to petition for a monarchy was an -act of fanaticism worthy of being punished by imprisonment, and so the -old order must in a measure pass; even in China, the unchanging, there -must come, it is a law of nature, some little change, and when I looked -at the bows and arrows of the Manchu guard leaning against the wall -I realised that it would be impossible to keep things as they were, -however picturesque. Still khaki uniforms, if utilitarian, are ugly, -and American folk-songs, under such conditions, struck the last note in -bathos, or pathos. It depends on the point of view. - -On the white paper tabs, attached to our black chrysanthemums, was -written something about the New Republic, but it might have been the -spirit of the Empress at home, so cheerful and bent on enjoyment was -the crowd which thronged the {087}courtyard. The bands played, sometimes -Eastern music, strange and haunting, sometimes airs from the European -operas, there were various tents erected with seats and tables, and -refreshments were served, oranges, and ginger, and tea, and cakes of all -kinds, both in the tents and at little altar-like stands dotted about -the courtyard even at the very foot of the pedestals of the great -conventional lions. And the people walked round looking at everything, -peeping through every crevice in the hopes of seeing some part of the -palace that was not open to them, chatting, laughing, greeting each -other as they would have done at a garden-party in Europe. There were -all sorts of people, dressed in all sorts of fashions. New China looked -at best common-plage and ordinary in European clothes; old China was -dignified in a queue, silken jacket and brocaded petticoat, generally -of a lighter colour; Manchu ladies wore high head-dresses and brilliant -silken coats, blue or pink, lavender or grey, and Chinese ladies -tottered along on tiny, bound feet that reminded me of the hoofs of a -deer, and the most fashionable, unmarried girls wore short coats with -high collars covering their chins, and tight-fitting trousers, often of -gaily coloured silk, while the older women added skirts, and the poorer -classes just wore a long coat of cotton, generally blue, with trousers -tightly girt in at the ankles, and their maimed feet in tiny little -embroidered shoes. European dress the Chinese woman very seldom affects -yet, and their jet black hair, plastered together with some sort of -substance that makes it smooth and shiny, is never covered, but flowers -and jewelled pins are stuck in it. Occasionally--I {088}did on this -day--you will see a woman with a black embroidered band round the -front of her head, but this, I think, denotes that she is of the Roman -Catholic faith, for the Roman Catholics have been in China far longer -than any other Christian sect, and they invented this head-dress for the -Chinese woman who for ages has been accustomed to wear none, because of -the Pauline injunction, that it was a shame for a woman to appear in -a church with her head uncovered. Old China did not approve of a woman -going about much at all, and here at this funeral I heard many old China -hands remarking how strange it was to see so many women mingling with -the throng. It marked the change; but such a very short time back, such -a thing would have been impossible. - -There were numbers of palace eunuchs too--keepers of the women who, -apparently, may now show their faces to all men, and they were clad all -in the mourning white, with here and there one, for some reason or other -I cannot fathom, in black. The demand for eunuchs was great when the -Emperor dwelt, the one man, in the Forbidden City surrounded by his -women, and they say that very often the number employed rose to ten -thousand. Constantly, as some in the ranks grew old, fell sick, or died, -they had to be replaced, and, so conservative is China, the recruits -were generally drawn from certain villages whose business it was to -supply the palace eunuchs. Often, of course, the operation was performed -in their infancy, but often, very often, a man was allowed to grow up, -marry, and have children, before he was made ready for the palace. - -“Impossible,” I said, “he would not consent {089}then. Never.” And -my informant laughed pitifully. “Ah,” said she, “you don't know the -struggle in China. Anything for a livelihood.” - -Some of the eunuchs wanted their photographs taken, and I was willing -enough if they would only give me room. I wanted one in white, but they -desired one in black, either because he was the most important or the -least important, I know not which, and they sat him on a stone that had -been a seat perhaps when Kublai Khan built the palace; and the keeper -of the women, the representative of the old cruel past, that pressed -men and women alike into the service of the great, looked in my camera -sheepish as a schoolboy kissed in public by his maiden aunt. - -There were coolies, too, in the ordinary blue cotton busy about the -work that the entertaining of such a multitude necessarily entails, and -everyone looked cheerful and happy, as, after all, why should they not, -for death is the common lot, and must come to all of us, and they had -seen and heard of the dead Empress about as much as the dweller in -Chicago had. They were merely taking what she, or her representatives, -gave with frank goodwill, and enjoying themselves accordingly. - -Against the walls they kept putting up long scrolls covered with Chinese -characters, sentences in praise of the virtues of the Empress, and sent, -as we would send funeral wreaths, to honour the dead, and presently a -wind arose and tore at them and they fluttered out from the walls -like long streamers, and as the wind grew wilder, some were tom down -altogether. But that was on the afternoon of the second day, when worse -things happened. {090}I went down to the Forbidden City after tiffin, and -behold, outside the great gates, looking up longingly and murmuring -a little, was a great crowd that grew momentarily greater. The doors, -studded with brazen nails, were fast closed, and little parties of -soldiers with their knapsacks upon their backs were evidently telling -the crowd to keep back, and very probably, since it was China, the -reason why they should keep back. The reason was, of course, lost upon -me, I only knew that, before I realised what was happening, I was in the -centre of a crushing crowd that was gradually growing more unmanageable. -A Chinese crowd is wonderfully good-natured, far better-tempered than a -European crowd of a like size would be, but when a crowd grows great, -it is hardly responsible for its actions. Besides, a Chinese crowd has -certain little unpleasant habits. The men picked up the little children, -for the tiniest tots came to this great festival, and held them on their -shoulders, but they coughed, and hawked, and spit, and wiped their noses -in the primitive way Adam probably did before he thought of using a -fig-leaf as a pocket handkerchief, and at last I felt that the only -thing to be done was to edge my way to the fringe of the press, because, -even if the doors were opened, it would have seemed like taking my life -in my hands to go into one of those tunnels with their uneven pavements -in such a crush. Once down it would be hopeless to think of getting up -again. - -{091}After a time, however, they did open the doors, and the people surged -in. When all was clear I followed, and once inside heard how the people -in the great courtyard, in spite of police and soldiers, had swarmed up -and threatened by their rush, the good-natured, purposeless rush of a -crowd, to carry away offerings, altar, choirs and decorations, and, -very naturally, those in authority had closed the doors against all -new-comers until the people had been got well in hand again. It had -taken some time. Before the altar was a regular scrimmage, and after the -crowd had passed it left behind it, shoes, and caps, and portions of its -clothing which were thrown back into the courtyard to be gathered up -by those who could recognise their own property. By the time I arrived -things were settling down. We had to wait in the second courtyard, and -the women, Chinese ladies with their little aching feet, and Manchus in -their high head-dresses sat themselves down on the edge of the causeway, -because standing on pavement is wearisome, and there waited patiently -till the doors were opened, and inside everything was soon going again -as gaily as at an ordinary garden-party in Somerset. - -[Illustration: 0145] - -“Do you like Chinese tea?” asked a Chinese lady of me in slow and -stilted English. I said I did. - -“Come,” said she, taking my hand in her cold little one, and hand in -hand we walked, or rather I walked and she tottered, across to one of -the great pavilions that had been erected, and there she sat me down and -a cup of the excellent tea was brought me, and every one of the Chinese -ladies present, out of the kindly hospitality of her heart towards the -lonely foreigner, gave me, with her own fair and shapely little hands, -a cake from the dish that was set before us by a white-clad servant. -Frankly, I wished they wouldn't be so hospitable. I wanted to say I -was quite capable of choosing my own cake, {092}and that I had a rooted -objection to other people pawing the food I intended to eat, but it -seemed it might be rude, and I did not wish to nip kindly feelings in -the bud. And then, as the evening shadows drew long, I went back to -my hotel, sorry to leave the Forbidden City, glad to have had this one -little glimpse of the strange and wonderful that is bound to pass away. - -The Empress died in February, in March they held this, can we call it -lying-in-state, but it was not till the 3rd of April that her funeral -cortège moved from the Forbidden City, and the streets of Peking were -thronged with those who came to pay her respect. Did they mourn? Well, I -don't know. Hardly, I think, was it mourning in the technical sense. -The man in the street in England is far enough away from the king on the -throne, but in China it seems as if he might inhabit a different sphere. - -The sky was a cloudless blue, and the bright golden sunshine poured down -hot as a July day in England, or a March day in Australia, there was -not a wisp of cloud in the sky; in all the five weeks that I had been in -China there had never been the faintest indication that such a thing was -ever expected, ever known, but at first the brilliancy had been cold, -now it was warm, the winter was past, and from the great Tartar wall, -looking over the Tartar City--the city that the Mings conquered and the -Manchus made their own--the forest of trees that hid the furthest houses -was all tinged with the faintest, daintiest green; and soon to the glory -of blue and gold, the blue of the sky and the gold of the sunshine, -would be added the vivid green that {093}tells of the new-born life. And -one woman who had held high place here, one sad woman, who had missed -most that was good in fife, if rumours be true, was to be carried to her -long home that day. - -The funeral procession started from the Eastern Gate of the Forbidden -City, came slowly down the broad street known now as Morrison Street, -turned into the way that passes the Legations and runs along by the -glacis whereon the conquering Western nations have declared that, for -their safety, no Chinese shall build a house, the Europeans call it -the Viale d'ltalia, because it passes by the Italian Legation, and the -Chinese by the more euphonious name of Chang an Cheeh--the street of -Eternal Repose--a curious commentary on the fighting that went on there -in 1900, into the Chien Men Street, that is the street of the main gate -through which it must go to the railway station. - -It seemed to me strange this ruler of an ancient people, buried with -weird and barbaric rites, was to be taken to her last resting-place by -the modern railway, that only a very few years ago her people, at -the height of their anti-foreign feeling, had wished to oust from the -country--root and branch. But since the funeral procession was going to -the railway station it must pass through the Chien Men, and the curtain -wall that ran round the great gate offered an excellent point of vantage -from which I, with the rest of the European population, might see all -there was to be seen. And for this great occasion, the gate in the -south of the curtain wall, the gate that is always shut because only the -highest in the land may pass through, was open, {094}for the highest in -the land, the last of the Manchu rulers, was dead. - -I looked down into the walled-in space between the four gateway arches, -as into an arena, and the whole pageant passed below me. First of all -marching with deliberate slowness, that contrives to be dignified -if they are only carrying coals, came about twenty camels draped in -imperial yellow with tails of sable, also an imperial badge hanging from -their necks. The Manchus were a hunting people, and though they have -been dwellers in towns for the last two hundred and fifty years the fact -was not forgotten now that their last ruler had died. She was going on -a journey, a long, long journey; she might want to rest by the way, -therefore her camels bore tent-poles and tents of the imperial colour. -They held their heads high and went noiselessly along, pad, pad, pad, -as their like have gone to and fro from Peking for thousands of years. -Mongol, or Manchu, or son of Han, it is all the same to the camel. He -ministers to man's needs because he must, but he himself is unchanging -as the ages, fixed in his way as the sky above, whether he bears grain -from the north, or coal from the Western Hills, or tents and drapery for -an imperial funeral. Then there were about fifty white ponies, without -saddle or trapping of any kind, each led by a mafoo clad in blue like an -ordinary coolie. The Peking carts that followed with wheels and tilts -of yellow were of a past age, but, after all, does not the King of Great -Britain and Ireland on State occasions ride in a most old-world coach. -And then I noticed things came in threes. {095}Three carts, three yellow -palankeens full of artificial flowers, three sedan chairs also yellow -covered, and all around these groups were attendants clad in shimmering -rainbow muslin and thick felt hats, from the pointed crown of which -projected long yellow feathers. Slowly, slowly, the procession moved on, -broken now and again by bands of soldiers in full marching order. There -was a troop of cavalry of the Imperial Guard they told me, but how could -it be imperial when their five-coloured lance pennons fluttering gaily -in the air, clearly denoted the New Republic? There was a detachment of -mounted police in black and yellow--the most modern of uniforms--there -were more attendants in gaily coloured robes carrying wooden halberds, -embroidered fans, banners, and umbrellas, and the yellow palankeens with -the artificial flowers were escorted by Buddhist lamas in yellow robes -crossed with crimson sashes, each with a stick of smouldering incense -in his hand. In those palankeens were the dead woman's seals, her power, -the power that she must now give up. I could see the smoke, and the -scent of the incense rose to our nostrils as we stood on the wall forty -feet above. Between the various groups, between the yellow lamas who -dated from the days of the Buddha long before the Christ, between the -khaki-clad troops and the yellow and black police, things of yesterday, -came palace attendants tossing into the air white paper discs. The dead -Empress would want money for her journey, and here it was, distributed -with a lavish hand. It was only white paper, blank and soiled by the -dust of the road, when I picked it up a little later on, but for her it -would serve all purposes. - -[Illustration: 0151] - -The approach of the bier itself was heralded by the striking together -of two slabs of wood by a {096}couple of attendants, and before it came, -clad all in the white of mourning, the palace eunuchs who had guarded -her privacy when in life; a few Court attendants in black, and then -between lines of khaki-uniformed modern infantry in marching order, the -bier covered with yellow satin, vivid, brilliant, embroidered with red -phoenixes that marked her high rank--the dragon for the Emperor, the -phoenix for his consort. The two pieces of wood clacked together harshly -and the enormous bier moved on. It was mounted on immense yellow poles -and borne by eighty men dressed in brilliant robes of variegated muslin, -red being the predominating colour. They wore hats with yellow feathers -coming out of the crown, and they staggered under their burden, as might -the slaves in Nineveh or Babylon have faltered and groaned beneath their -burdens, two thousand years ago. - -Out of the northern archway came the camels and the horses, the -soldiers, the lamas, the eunuchs, out came all the quaint gay -paraphernalia--umbrellas, and fans, palankeens, and sedan chairs, and -banners--and slowly crossed the great courtyard, the arena; a stop, -a long pause, then on again, and the southern gate swallowed them up, -again the clack of the strips of wood, and the mighty bier, borne on the -shoulders of the Babylonish slaves. Slowly, slowly, then it stood still, -and we felt as if it must stay there for ever, as if the eighty men who -upheld it must be suffering unspeakable things. Once more the clack of -the strips of wood, and the southern archway in due course swallowed -it up, too, with the few halberdiers and the detachment of soldiery who -completed the procession. {097}Outside the Chien Men was the railway -station, the crowded people--crowded like Chinese flies in summer, and -that is saying a great deal--were cleared away by the soldiers, the bier -was lifted on to a car, the bands struck up a weird funeral march, the -soldiers presented arms, the lama priests fell on their knees, and then -very, very slowly the train steamed out of the station, and the last of -the Manchu Empresses was borne to her long home. - -Was it impressive I asked myself as I went down the ramp? And the answer -was a little difficult to find. Quaint and strange and Eastern, for the -thing that has struck me so markedly in China was here marked as ever. -It was like the paper money that was thrown with such lavish generosity -into the air. Amongst all the magnificence was the bizarre note--that -discordant touch of tawdriness. Beneath the gorgeous robes of the -attendants, plainly to be seen, were tatters and uncleanliness, the -soldiers in their ill-fitting uniforms looked makeshift, and the police -wanted dusting. And yet--and again I must say and yet, for want of -better words--behind it all was some reality, something that gripped -like the haunting sound of the dirge, or the stately march of the camels -that have defied all change. - - - - -CHAPTER VI--A TIME OF REJOICING - -{098} - -_The charm of Peking--A Chinese theatre--Electric light--The custodian -of the theatre--Bargaining for a seat--The orchestra--The scenery of -Shakespeare--Realistic gesture--A city wall--A mountain spirit--Gorgeous -dresses--Bundles of towels--Women's gallery--Armed patrols--Rain in -April--The food of the peasant--Famine--The value of a daughter--God be -thanked._ - -|The Legation Quarter in Peking, as I was reminded twenty times a day, -is not China, it is not even Peking, but it is a pleasant place in which -to stay; a place where one may foregather and exchange ideas with -one's kind, and yet whence one may go forth and see all Peking; more, -may see places where still the foreigner is something to be stared at, -and wondered at, and where the old, unchanging civilisation still goes -on. Ordinarily if you would see something new, something that gives -a fresh sensation, it is necessary to go out from among your kind -and brave discomfort, or spend a small fortune to guard against that -discomfort, but here, in Peking, you who are interested in such things -may see an absolutely new world, and yet have all the comforts, except -reading matter, to which you have been accustomed in London. It was no -wonder I lingered in Peking. Always there was something {099}new to see, -always there was something fresh to learn, and at any moment, within -five minutes, I could step out into another world, the world of Marco -Polo, the world the Jesuit Fathers saw when first the Western nations -were beginning to realise there were any countries besides their own. - -[Illustration: 0157] - -There are people--I have heard them--who complain that Peking is dull. -Do not believe them. But, after all, perhaps I am not the best judge. As -a young girl, trammelled by trying to do the correct thing and behave -as a properly brought up young lady ought, I have sometimes, say at an -afternoon call when I hope I was behaving prettily, found life dull, but -since I have gone my own way I have been sad sometimes, lonely often, -but dull never, and for that God be thanked. But Peking, I think, would -be a very difficult place in which to be really dull. - -It is even possible to go to the theatre every night, but it is a -Chinese theatre and that will go a long way. Nevertheless, I felt it was -a thing I should like to see; so one evening two of my friends took me -to the best theatre that was open. The best was closed for political -reasons they said, because the new Government, not as sure of itself as -it would like to be, did not wish the people to assemble together. This -was a minor theatre, a woman's theatre; that is one where only women -were the actors, quite a new departure in the Celestial world, for until -about a year before the day of which I write, no woman was ever seen -upon the stage, and her parts, as they were in the old days in Europe, -were taken by men and boys. Even now, men and women never appear on the -stage together, never, never do the sexes {100}mingle in China, and the -women who act take the very lowest place in the social scale. - -One cold night in March three rickshaws put us down at an open doorway -in the Chinese City outside the Tartar wall. The Chinese the greatest -connoisseurs of pictures do not as yet think much of posters, though the -British and American Tobacco Company is doing its best to educate them -up to that level, so outside this theatre the door was not decorated -with photographs of the lovely damsels to be seen within, clad in as few -clothes as the censor will allow, but the intellects of the patrons were -appealed to, and all around the doors were bright red sheets of -paper, on which the delights offered for the evening were inscribed in -characters of gold. - -We went along a narrow passage with a floor of hard, beaten earth, and -dirty whitewashed walls on either side, along such a passage I could -imagine went those who first listened to the sayings of Hamlet, Prince -of Denmark. The light was dim, the thrifty Chinaman was not going to -waste the precious and expensive light of compressed gas where it was -not really needed, and from behind the wall came the weird strains of -Chinese music. There appeared to be only one door, and here sat a fat -and smiling Chinese, who explained to my friends that by the rules of -the theatre, the men and women were divided, and that I must go to the -women's gallery. They demurred. It would be very dull for me, who could -not understand a word of the language, to sit alone. Could no exception -be made in my favour? The doorkeeper was courteous as only a Chinese -can be, and said that for his part, {101}he had no objection; but the -custodian of the theatre, put there by the Government to ensure law and -order, would object. - -I wanted badly to stay with these men who could explain to me all that -was going on, so we sent for the custodian, another smiling gentleman, -not quite so fat, in the black and yellow uniform of the military -police. He listened to all we had to say, sympathised, but declared that -the regulations must be carried out. My friends put it to him that the -regulations were archaic, and that it was high time they were altered. -He smilingly agreed. They were archaic, very; but then you see, they -were the regulations. He was here to see that they were carried out, and -he suggested, as an alternative, that we should take one of the boxes -at the side. The question of sitting in front was dismissed, and we gave -ourselves to the consideration of a box for which six dollars, that -is twelve shillings English currency, or three dollars American, were -demanded. We demurred, it seems you always question prices in China. We -told the doorkeeper that the price was very high, and that as we were -sitting where we did not wish to sit, he ought to come down. He did. -Shades of Keith and Prowse! Two dollars! - -We went up some steep and narrow steps of the most primitive order, were -admitted to a large hall lighted by compressed gas--in Cambulac! here -in the heart of an ancient civilisation--surrounded by galleries with -fronts of a dainty lattice-work of polished wood, such as the Chinese -employ for windows, and we took our places in a box, humbly furnished -with bare benches and a wooden table. Just beneath us was the stage, and -the play was in {102}full swing--actors, property men, and orchestra all -on at once. It was large and square, raised a little above the people in -the body of the hall and surrounded by a little low screen of the same -dainty lattice-work. At the back was the orchestra, composed only of men -in ordinary coolie dress--dark blue cotton--with long queues. There -were castanets, and a drum, cymbals, native fiddle, and various -brazen instruments that looked like brass trays, and they all played -untiringly, with an energy worthy of a better cause, and with the -apparent intention--it couldn't have been so really--of drowning -the actors. Yet taken altogether the result was strangely quaint and -Eastern. - -The entertainment consisted of a number of little plays lasting from -half an hour to about an hour. There were never more than half a dozen -people on the stage at once, very often only two in the play altogether, -and what it was all about we could only guess after all, for even my -friends, who could speak ordinary Chinese fluently, could not understand -much that was said. Possibly this was because every actor, instead of -using the ordinary conversational tone, adapted as we adapt it to the -stage, used a high, piercing falsetto that was extremely unnatural, and -reminded me of nothing on this earth that I know of except perhaps a -pig-killing. Still even I gathered something of the story of the play -as it progressed, for the gestures of these women, unlike their voices, -were extremely dramatic, and some of the situations were not to be -mistaken. Scenery was as it was in Shakespeare's day. It was understood. -But for all the bare crudity, the dresses of the actors which belonged -to a previous age, {103}whether they were supposed to represent men or -women, were most rich and beautiful. The general, with his hideously -painted face and his long black beard of thread, wore a golden -embroidered robe that must have been worth a small fortune; a soldier, -apparently a sort of Dugald Dalgety, who pits himself against a scholar -clad in modest dark colours, appeared in a blue satin of the most -delicate shade, beautifully embroidered with gorgeous lotus flowers and -palms; and the principal ladies, who were really rather pretty in spite -of their highly painted faces and weird head-dresses, wore robes of -delicate loveliness that one of my companions, whose business it was to -know about such matters, told me must have been, like the general's, of -great value. The comic servant or country man wore a short jumper and -a piece of white paper and powder about his nose. It certainly did make -him look funny. The dignified scholar was arrayed all in black, the -soldier wore the gayest of embroidered silks and satins, the landlady of -the inn or boarding-house, a pleasant, smiling woman with roses in her -hair and tiny maimed feet, had a pattern of black lace-work painted on -her forehead, and when the male characters had to be very fierce indeed, -they wore long and flowing beards, beards to which no Chinaman, I fear -me, can ever hope to attain, for the Chinaman is not a hairy man. When a -gallant gentleman with tight sleeves which proclaimed him a warrior, and -a long beard of bright red thread which made him a very fierce warrior -indeed, snapped his fingers and lifted up his legs, lifted them up -vehemently, you knew that he was getting over a wall or mounting his -horse. You could take your choice. A mountain, the shady {104}side of -it, was represented by one panel of a screen which leaned drunkenly -against a very ordinary chair, giving shelter to a very evil spirit with -a dress that represented a leopard, and a face of the grimmest and most -terrifying of those animals. - -This was a play that required much property to be displayed, for a -general with a face painted all black and white and long black beard, -with his army of five, took refuge behind a stout city wall that was -made of thin blue cotton stuff supported on four bamboo poles, and this -convenient wall marched on to the stage in the hands of a couple of -stout coolies. A wicked mountain spirit outside the walls did terrible -things. Ever and again flashes of fire burst out after his speech, and -I presume you were not supposed to see the coolie who manipulated that -fire, though he stood on the stage as large as any actors in the piece. - -It is hard, too, talking in that high falsetto against the shrieking, -strident notes of the music, so naturally the actors constantly required -a little liquid refreshment, and an attendant was prompt in offering -tea in tiny round basins; and nobody saw anything incongruous in his -standing there with the teapot handy, and in slack moments taking a sip -himself. - -The fun apparently consisted in repartee, and every now and then, -the audience, who were silent and engrossed, instead of applauding -spontaneously, ejaculated, as if at a word of command, “Hao!” which -means “Good!” - -That audience was the best-behaved and most attentive I have ever seen. -It consisted mostly of men, as far as I could see, of the middle class. -{105}They were packed close together, with here and there a little table -or bench among them; and up and down went vendors of apples, oranges, -pieces of sugar-cane, cakes and sweetmeats. - -There were also people who supplied hot, damp towels. A man stood here -and there in the audience, and from the outer edge of the theatre, came -hurtling to him, over the heads of the people, a bundle of these towels. -For a cent or so apiece he distributed them, the members of the audience -taking a refreshing wipe of face and head and hands and handing the -towels back. When the purveyor of the towels had used up all his stock, -and got them all back again, he tied them up into a neat bundle, and -threw them back the way they had come, receiving a fresh stock in -return. Never did a bundle of towels fail in reaching its appointed -place, and scores of cents must the providers have pocketed. For the -delight of ventilation is not appreciated in China, and to say that -theatre was stuffy is a mild way of putting it. The warm wet towel -must have given a sort of refreshment. They offered us some up in -the dignified seclusion of our box, but we felt we could sustain life -without washing our faces with doubtful towels during the progress of -the entertainment. Tea was brought, too, excellent Chinese tea, and I -drank it with pleasure. I drink Chinese tea without either milk or sugar -as a matter of course now; but that night at the Chinese theatre I was -only trying it and wondering could I drink it at all. - -Opposite us was the women's gallery, full of Chinese and Manchu ladies, -with high headdresses and highly painted faces. The Chinese ladies often -paint their faces, but their attempts at {106}decoration pale before -that of the Manchus, who put on the colour with such right goodwill that -every woman when she is dressed in her smartest, looks remarkably like a -sign-board. The wonder is that anyone could possibly be found who could -admire the unnatural effect. Someone, I suppose, there is, or it would -not be done, but no men went near the women's gallery that evening. It -would have been the grossest breach of decorum for a man to do any such -thing, and the painted ladies drank their tea by themselves. - -Somewhere about midnight, earlier than usual, consequent, I imagine, -upon the disturbed state of the country, the entertainment ended with a -perfect crash of music, and the most orderly audience in the world went -out into the streets of the Chinese City, into the clear night. Only -in very recent years, they tell me, have the streets of Peking been -lighted. Formerly the people went to bed at dusk, but they seem to have -taken very kindly to the change, for the streets were thronged. There -were people on foot, people in rickshaws, people in the springless -Peking carts, and important personages with outriders and footmen in -the glass broughams beloved by the Chinese; and there were the military -police everywhere, now at night with rifles across their shoulders. -Here, disciplining this most orderly crowd, they struck me as being -strangely incongruous. I wondered at those police then, and I wonder -still. What are they for? Whatever the reason, there they were at every -few yards. Never have I had such a strange home-coming from a theatre. -Down on us forty feet high frowned the walls built in past ages, we -crossed the Beggars' {107}Bridge of glorious marble, we went under the -mighty archway of the Chien Men, and we entered the Legation Quarter -guarded like a fortress, and I went to bed meditating on the difference -between a Chinese play and a modern musical comedy. They have, I fancy, -one thing in common. They are interesting enough to see for the first -time, but a little of them goes a long way. - -I went to bed under a clear and cloudless sky, and the next morning, to -my astonishment, it was raining. I have, of course, seen rain many, many -times, and many, many times have I seen heavier rain than fell all this -April day in Peking, but never before, not even in my own country where -rain is the great desideratum, have I seen rain better worth recording. - -It was indeed this April day rain at last! - -“To everything there is a season,” says the preacher, and the spring is -the time for a little rain in Northern China. In England people suppose -it rains three hundred and sixty days out of the three hundred and -sixty-five, except in Leap Year when we manage to get in another rainy -day, but as a matter of fact, I believe the average is about one hundred -and fifty wet days in the year, with a certain number more in which -clouds in the sky blot out the sunshine. In the north of China, on the -other hand, there had been, to all intents and purposes, no cloud in -the sky since the summer rains of 1912, till this rain in April which I -looked out upon. Is not rain like that worth recording? Still more do -I feel it is worth recording when I think of what that day's rain, that -seemed so little to me, meant to millions of people. All through the -bitter cold winter the {108}country lay in the grip of the frost, -but the sun reigned in a heaven of peerless blue, and the light was -brilliant with a brilliancy that makes the sunshine of a June day in -England a poor, pale thing. The people counted for their crops on the -rain that would come in due season, the rain in the spring. March came -with the thaw, and the winds from the north lifted the loose soil -into the air in clouds of dust. But March passed alternating brilliant -sunshine and clouds of dust, and there was never a cloud in the sky, -never a drop of moisture for the gasping earth. April came--would it go -on like this till June? Rain that comes in due season is necessary to -the crops that are the wealth, nay the very life of Northern China. - -From the beams of the peasant's cottage hang the cobs of corn, each one -counted; in jars or boxes is his little store of grain, millet--just -bird-seed in point of fact--he has a few dried persimmons perhaps -and--nothing else. Twice a day the housewife measures out the grain for -the meal--she knows, the tiniest child in the household knows exactly -how long it will last with full measure, how it may be spun out over a -few more dreary, hunger-aching days, how then, if the rain has not come, -if the crops have failed, famine will stalk in the land, famine, cruel, -pitiless, and from his grip there is no escaping. - -[Illustration: 0169] - -Think of it, as I did that April day in Peking, when I watched the rain -pelting down. Think of the dumb, helpless peasant watching the cloudless -blue sky and the steadily diminishing store of grain, watching, hoping, -for the faintest wisp of white cloud that shall give promise of a little -moisture. {109}They tell me, those who know, that the Chinaman is a -fatalist, that he never looks so far ahead, but do they not judge him -with Western eyes? True he seldom complains, but he tills his fields so -carefully that he must see in imagination the crops they are to produce, -he must know, how can he help knowing, that if there be no harvest, -there is an end to his home, his family, his children; that if perchance -his life be spared, it will be grey and empty, broken, desolate, scarce -worth living. Every scanty possession will have to be sold to buy food -in a ruinously high market, even the loved children, and no one who -has seen them together can doubt that the Chinese deeply love their -children, must go, though for the little daughter whose destination will -be a brothel of one of the great cities, but two dollars, four pitiful -shillings, may be hoped for, and when that is eaten up, the son sold -into slavery will bring very little more. To sell their children sounds -terrible, but what can they do? Some must be sacrificed that the others -may have a chance of life, and even if they are not sacrificed, their -fate is to die slowly under the bright sky, in the relentless sunshine. -This is the spectre that haunts the peasant. This is the thing that has -befallen his fathers, that has befallen him, that may befall him again -any year, that no care on his part can guard him from, that the clear -sky for ever threatens. - -“From plague, pestilence and famine, Good Lord deliver us.” - -Does ever that Litany to the Most High go up in English cathedral with -such prayerful fervour, such thorough realisation of what is meant -by the {110}supplication, as is in the heart of the peasant mother in -China, carefully measuring out the grain for the meal. Only she would -put it the other way. “F rom famine, and the plague and pestilence that -stalk in the wake of the famine, oh pitiful, merciful God deliver us!” - -And when I took all this in, when I heard men who had seen the suffering -describe it, was it any wonder that I rejoiced at the dull grey sky, -at the sound of the rain on the roof, at the water rushing down the -gutters. - -On the gently sloping hill-sides of Manchuria, where they grow the -famous bean, the hill-sides that I had seen in their winter array, on -the wide plains of Mongolia, where only the far horizon bounds the view, -and you march on to a yet farther horizon where the Mongol tends his -flocks and herds, and the industrious Chinaman, pushing out beyond the -protecting wall, has planted beans and sown oats, in Honan, where the -cotton and the maize and the kaoliang grow, all along the gardens and -grain-fields of Northern China, had come the revivifying rain. The day -before, under the blue sky, lay the bare brown earth, acres and acres, -miles and miles of it, carefully tilled, nowhere in the world have I -seen such carefully tilled land, full of promise, but of promise only, -of a rich harvest. Then, not hoped for so late, a boon hardly to be -prayed for, welcome as sunshine never was welcome, came the rain, six -hours steady rain, and the spectre of famine, ever so close to the -Chinese peasant, for a time drifted into the background with old, -unhappy, long-forgotten things. Next morning on all the khaki-coloured -country outside Peking was a tinge of {111}green, and we knew that a -bountiful harvest was ensured, knew that soon the country would be -a beautiful emerald. The house-mother, the patient, uncomplaining, -ignorant, Chinese house-mother, might fill her pot joyfully, the -house-father might look at his little daughter, with the red thread -twisted in her hair, and know, that for a year at least, she was safe in -his sheltering arms, for the blessed rain had come, God given. - -Peking in the rain is an uncomfortable place. It is built for the -sunshine. The streets of the city were knee-deep in mud, the hu t'ungs -were impassable for a man on foot unless he would be mud up to the -knees, for there had been six hours solid downpour, and every moment -it continued was worth pounds to the country. What was a twenty-five -million loan with its heavy interest, against such a rain as this? More -than one hundred thousand people were affected by the downpour, were -glad and rejoicing that day at the good-fortune that had befallen -them. This mass of human beings, at the very lowest computation had -considerably more than twenty-five million pounds rained down upon it -in the course of six hours. There came with that rain, that blurred the -windows of my room, prosperity for the land, and, for a time at -least, peace, for peace and good harvests in China are sometimes -interchangeable terms. What did it matter to Northern China at that -moment that the nations were bickering over the loan, that America was -promising, Britain hesitating, Russia threatening? What did it matter -whether Emperor, President, or Dictator, was in power? What did it -matter that the national representatives hesitated to come to the -capital? {112}What did it matter what mistakes they made? What does the -peasant tilling his field, the woman filling her cooking-pot know about -these things? What do they care? A mightier factor than these, a greater -power than man's had stepped in. God be thanked, in China that day it -rained. - - - - -CHAPTER VII--ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD - -{113} - -_Courteous Americans--Nankou Pass--Beacon towers--Inaccessible -hills--“Balbus has built a wall”--Tiny towns--“Watchman, what of -the night?”--Deserted watch-towers---Thoughtful Chinese waiter--Ming -Tombs--Chinese carrying chair--Stony way--Greatest p'ia lou in -China--Amphitheatre among the barren hills--Tomb of Yung Lo--Trunks of -sandal-wood trees--Enterprising Chinese guard._ - -|Wherever I might wander in China, and with the rumours of war that -were in the air, it looked as if my wanderings were going to be somewhat -restricted, to one place I was bound to wander, and that was the Great -Wall of China. Even in the days of my grandmother's curios, I had heard -about that, one of the wonders of the world, and I could never have left -China without seeing it. - -“You can do it in a couple of days,” said the young man, who had -chastened me gently when first I entered Peking. “I'm going up on -Tuesday, You'd better come along. The poet's coming too,” he added. - -{114}The poet, a real live poet, who thought a deal more about his binding -than his public, was like me I think, he did not like seeing places in -crowds, and at first he did not give us much of his society. There was -also a millionaire, an American millionaire, his little wife, his -big daughter, and his angular {114}maiden sister. They had an -observation-car fixed on to the train, and the guard came along and said -that if we ordinary travellers, who were not millionaires, cared to come -in the car, the millionaire would be very pleased. - -I have travelled so much by myself that the chance of congenial company -once in a way was delightful, but I did feel we ought not to have taken -the train to the Nankou Pass. A mule litter, or a Peking cart would have -been so much more suitable. However, it is as well to be as comfortable -as possible. - -From the north came China's foes, the sturdy horsemen from Mongolia, -the mountain men from the Manchurian Hills, and because the peaceful, -industrious inhabitants of the rich; alluvial plains feared greatly the -raiders, they, just at the Nankou Pass, where these inaccessible hills -might be passed, built watch-towers and kept ward. There they stand, -even to this day, upon jutting peaks where the pass opens into the -plain, grey stone watch-towers with look-outs and slits for the archers, -and beacon-towers which could flash the fiery warning that should rouse -the country to the south. For thirteen miles we went up the pass, -the cleft that the stream, babbling cheerfully now in April over its -water-worn rocks, has carved for itself through the stony hills, and its -weird beauty never palls. - -{115}Always there were the hills, broken to pieces, tossed together by the -hand of a giant, there were great clefts in them, vistas looking up -stony and inaccessible valleys, gullies that are black as if a burning -fiery furnace had been set in their midst, little pockets where the -stream widened and there was a patch of green pasture, some goats -grazing, a small, neat farm-house and fruit-trees, pink and white, -almond, peach, or pear, a wealth of blossom. On every patch of those -barren hill-sides where a tree might grow, a tree--a fruit-tree--because -the Chinaman is strictly utilitarian, had been planted; only here and -there, over the sacred graves of China, there was a patch of willow, -tender with the delicate dainty green of early spring. - -[Illustration: 0177] - -Always in China there are people; and here there were tiny towns packed -together on ledges of the eternal hills, with the fruit-trees and the -willows that shade the graves, and there were walls--walls that stretch -up to the inaccessible portion of the hills, where only a goat might -climb, and no invading army could possibly pass. So numerous were these -walls that my cheery young friend suggested that if ever a village -head-man had a little spare time on his hands he remarked: “Oh, I say, -here's a fine day and plenty of stones, let's go out and build a wall.” - And then next day the villagers in the next hamlet looking out said, “By -Jove, Balbus, no Wong, has built a wall. We can't be beat.” But I don't -think in the old days the villagers on those hills ever took life quite -as lightly as that. - -Over and over again it is repeated, the watch-towers on the hills and -the strips of wall running down into the valley, walls with wide tops on -which companies of archers might stand, protected by a breast-work slit -for arrows, with a wall behind again to which they might retire if -they were beaten, making the space between hard to hold, even for a -victorious enemy. Always there were the walls and watch-towers as we -went on up the valley, telling (116)in their own way, the story of the -strenuous lives of the men who lived here in the old days. - -Down the mule track these walls command came an endless company of -people, wandering along, slowly, persistently, as they have -wandered since the dawn of history. They had mules, and donkeys, and -horses--muzzled so that they cannot eat the tufts of herbage by the -roadside--laden with grain, and hides, and all manner of merchandise. -There were blue-coated coolies trudging along with bamboos across their -shoulders, their heavy loads dangling from either end; and there were -laden camels, the ragged dromedaries from Mongolia, long lines of them, -picking their way among the stones along the road by the side of the -stream. The camels, and the walls, and the watch-towers go together, -they enhance the wonder and the charm of this road to the Great Wall. - -Up and up we went, up the valley, past the great archway where is the -Customs barrier even to-day, and on, higher and higher, deeper into -the hills, till ahead, crowning them, climbing their steepest points, -bridging their most inaccessible declivities, clear-cut against the blue -sky, I saw what I had come out to see, one of the wonders of the world, -the Great Wall of China! Here among the stony, arid hills, that anywhere -else in the world would be left to the rock-doves and the rabbits, we -came upon a piece of man's handiwork that for ages has cried aloud to -those who have eyes to see, or ears to hear, of the colossal industry of -China, nay of more than that, of the sacrifice of the individual for -the good of the community. On and on went the Wall, up and up and up, -climbing steadily, falling, climbing again, {117}and again dropping into -the valleys. There were watch-towers and a broad highway along its top; -here stood the sentries, who kept ceaseless watch and ward looking ever -for the invader, whether he came in countless array, a conquering army, -or in small raiding bands that might take toll of the rich crops to the -south, steal a few women, or hold a wealthy squire up to ransom. - -“Watchman, what of the night? What of the night? Is the road clear to -the north? Hist! Hist! What is that beneath the loom of the hills? What -is the sound that comes up on the wind?” - -“There are always dark shadows in the loom of the hills, and it is only -a stone falling down the gully.” - -“Ah, but the dark shadows have hidden a band of Manchurian archers, -and the stone might be loosened by the hoof of a Mongol pony. Watchman! -Watchman, what of the night? What of the night?” - -That was the way I felt about it as, having got out of the train, and -taken a chair, we made our way through the desolate country to the -Nankou Pass, and I, forgetting all else, stood gazing my fill at the -Wall I had heard about ever since I was a little child. Dreaming of what -it must have been in the past, I forgot, for the moment, the present, -and the passing of time. I was alone, as the poet wished to be, and then -a high-pitched voice brought me to this present day again. - -“Say Momma,” said the millionaire--we thought he was a millionaire -because of the observation-car, but he may have been just more -ordinarily well-to-do than a writer of books--“where's Cora?” - {118}“Search me,” said Momma placidly. - -He didn't search her, perhaps because, seeing she was but five feet and -small and thin at that, he did not think it likely that Cora, who was -a buxom young person close on six feet, could possibly be concealed -anywhere about her person. - -The maiden aunt pointed an accusing finger up the rough, grass-grown -stones that make the top of the Wall. - -“Skipping like a young ram,” she snorted, and then all three raised -their voices, and those old-world rocks rang with shouts of “Cora! -Cora!! Cora!!!” - -I trembled for the poet's feelings, if he were anywhere within range, -but after all, in their own way and time, I dare say the keepers of the -Wall were just as commonplace. My companion, who was steadily making his -way up the Wall beside Cora, turned at the ear-piercing yells, looked at -his watch, spoke to the girl, and came slowly back while she quickened -her pace for a moment, as if determined to get over the other side of -the hill, whatever happened. - -“The young gentleman has the most sense,” opined Momma. - -“She'll come now he's turned,” said the maiden aunt acidly, and even -though she did come, down across the rough stones, by the ruined -watch-towers, I felt the insinuation was unjust. - -Those watch-towers are empty now, deserted and desolate. No thoughtful -captain, weighed down with responsibility, looks through their arched -windows, no javelin men stand on the stone steps, no sentry tramps along -peering out to the north. {119}The Wall is tumbling into disrepair, the -grass and weeds grow up between the stones, and the wonder of the world -is a mighty ruin, stately even in its decay, for never again beneath the -sun will such another wall be built. Look at it climbing up those hills, -cutting the blue sky, bridging the gullies, and think of the tears, and -sweat, and blood, that went to the building of it! That foundations may -be well and truly laid, so says tradition, they must be laid on a living -human being. It is one way of saying that on sacrifice our lives are -based, that for every good thing in life something of value must be -given; so to the building of the Wall, that was to hold China safe, went -hundreds and thousands of lives, and its upkeep and its watching cost -more than we can well imagine. - -We went back to the Ching Er Hotel at Nankou, the little hotel close to -the railway and plunged once more into modern life for, unpretentious -and kept by Chinese as it is, it still represented the present day. It -is just one big room, divided into a hall and many little rooms by so -many sheets of paper, so that the man in the room in front may whisper -and nothing be lost upon the man in the room at the back, six rooms -away, while to have a bath is a matter of public interest, for the -smallest splash can be heard from one end of the building to the other. - -Nevertheless, I shall always have friendly feelings towards that little -hotel, where they lodged me so hardly, and fed me so well. - -They considered one in every way, too. The poet had evidently not been -troubled by the family affection of the millionaires, he walked -back from the {120}Wall, and was so full of enthusiasm he forgave my -presence, came to me as I sat at dinner and, covered with the dust of -the way as he was, stood, and just as I should expect of a poet, waxed -eloquent on the glories he had seen. The Chinese waiter, with shaven -head and long blue smock, let him go on for a few minutes, then he took -him gently and respectfully by the sleeve. - -“Vash,” he said solemnly, without the ghost of a smile on his face; -“vash,” and the poet came to earth with a laugh. We both laughed. - -“Well, yes,” he said looking at his dust-begrimed person. “I suppose I -had better wash. I'll be back in a moment. May I sit at your table?” - -And next day I went to see the Ming Tombs. - -St Paul's and Westminster are set in the heart of a mighty city, ever -by the peaceful dead sounds the clamour of the living, yet the living -forget, in spite of the daily reminder they forget. In China, where -graves dot every field, and are part and parcel of the lives of the -people, they bury the honoured dead far apart from the rush and roar of -everyday life, and they never forget. The Nankou Pass is two hours -from Peking, and the tombs of the Ming Emperors are nine miles from the -Nankou Pass, set in the very heart of the hills. The entrance to the -pass is barren and lonely enough, but the extra nine miles is like -journeying into the wilderness where the scapegoat, burdened with the -sins of the community, was driven by the Israelites. It is a long, long -nine miles over a stony mule track where only a donkey, a pony, or a -chair can go, and yet here centuries ago, when it was ten times farther -away, China buried her dead, the men who sat on {121}the Dragon Throne, -and bridged for the nation the gap that lies between mortal men and -high Heaven. It is lonely now when the roadway of the West brings Nankou -close to the capital, it must have been unspeakably lonely in the days -before the opening of the railway. A chair seemed to me the only way to -get there, a chair borne by four blue-clad coolies with queues wrapped -round their shaven heads, and while my companion rode a pony, in a chair -I swung over the stony narrow track away towards the hills. The hills -were rugged and barren, the same hills that the Wall crossed; on their -stony sides no green thing could ever grow, and they were brown, and -pink, and grey, and when a white cloud gathered here and there in the -faraway blue sky, the shadows lay across them in great purple patches. -And the road was stony, barely to be seen, impossible for wheeled -traffic, even the primitive wheeled traffic of Northern China. I doubt -even if a wheelbarrow could have gone along it. I doubted often whether -the heaps of stones on the slope could possibly be a road, but the -coolies seemed to know, and went steadily on, changing the pole from one -shoulder to the other so often that it gave me a feeling of brutality -that I should use such a means of locomotion. The only person who was -comfortable was I. - -My companion rode beside me sometimes. He felt himself responsible for -my well-being, and it was good to be looked after. - -“Are you all right?” - -All right! If the country round was desolate, the sunshine was glorious, -the air, the clear, dry air of Northern China was as invigorating as -champagne, {122}and I knew that I could go on for ever and feel myself -much blessed. The Ming Tombs were but an excuse; it was well and more -than well to be here in the open spaces of the earth, to draw deep -breaths, to feel that neither past nor future mattered; here beneath the -open sky in the golden sunshine swinging along, somewhere, anywhere, I -had all I could ask of life. - -And always it was a stony way. Sometimes the coolies climbed up a bank -of loose stones that slipped and rolled away as they passed, sure-footed -as goats, sometimes the stones were piled on either side and a sort of -track meandered in between, sometimes they were scattered all over the -plain in such masses that even the industrious Chinese seemed to have -given up the task of clearing them away as hopeless, and had simply -tilled the land in between. For this was no uninhabited desert, desolate -as it seemed. Always we came across little stone-built hamlets, there -were men and women working in the fields, and rosy-cheeked children -stood by the wayside and waved their little hands to the passing -stranger. There would be the sound of bells, and a string of mules or -donkeys came picking their way as soberly as the coolies themselves, -and left much to themselves by their ragged drivers. They looked of the -poorest, these people, men and women clad much alike in dirty blue that, -torn here and there, let out the cotton-wool which padded it for winter -warmth. - -Probably they knew nothing, nothing of the world beyond their little -dusty, stony hamlets, they prayed perhaps for the rain that should -moisten their dusty, stony fields, and give them the mess of meal, the -{123}handful of persimmons that is all they ask of Fate, and they -watched the few strangers who came to visit the tombs, and perhaps never -even wondered what the outside world might be like, if it gave to those -who lived there anything more than fell to the lot of the humble -dwellers on the road to the Ming Tombs. - -[Illustration: 0189] - -And at last in the pleasant noontide we came to the p'ia lou at the -entrance, the greatest p'ia lou in China, that land of p'ia lous, and -standing there I realised, not only the beauty of the archway, but the -wonder of the place the Mings had chosen to be theirs for all time. -It is a great amphitheatre among these barren hills. St Paul's or -Westminster could not hold these tombs, for Hyde Park might be put in -this valley and yet not half fill it; and round it, set against the -base of the hills, in great courts enclosed in pinkish-red walls, the -counterpart of those round the Forbidden City, and planted with cypress -and pine, are the various tombs. A magnificent resting-place, truly! And -the dignity is enhanced by the desolate approach. Through the p'ia lou -is the famous Holy Way, the avenue of marble animals, of which all -the world has so often heard. What mystic significance had the marble -elephant and the camel, the kneeling horse and the sedate scholar? -Possibly they had no more than the general suggestion that all things -did honour to the mighty dead laid away in their tombs. A paved way runs -between them, paved with great blocks of marble brought from the -hills, placed there in Bygone ages by the hands of slaves, sweating and -struggling under their loads, or possibly by men just exactly like the -men who were bearing me, men slaves in all but name, who each day must -earn a {124}few pence or go under in the pitiful struggle for life. The -paved way that runs on for three miles is worn and broken, the grass -comes up between the blocks, the bridges are falling into disrepair, but -these things are trifles in the face of the amphitheatre set among the -eternal hills, the blue sky and the sunshine, these are a memorial here, -a memorial that makes the work of men's hands but a small thing. - -Nevertheless that work is very wonderful. No one, I suppose, except -he were making Chinese art or antiquities a special study, would visit -every tomb in turn. It would take a week, and we, like the majority of -visitors, contented ourselves with that of Yung Lo, the principal one. -And here is a curious thing worth noting, a thing that possibly would -happen nowhere else in the world, showing how irrevocably China feels -herself bound to the past. The Ming Emperor was a Chinese, and the -Republic that has just overthrown the Manchu Dynasty, is also Chinese, -so as a mark of respect, they have repaired, after a fashion, this, the -tomb of the greatest of the Ming Emperors. That is to say--oh China! -they have whitewashed the marble, painted the golden-brown tiled roof of -the temple, and swept and garnished the great audience hall. - -A tomb in China reminds me in no way of death. We entered through a -door studded with heavy brazen knobs a grass-grown courtyard, where were -trees, pine and cypress. We went along a paved way, and before us was -a building with a curved roof, with the tiles broken here and there; it -was set on a platform reached by flights of marble steps, or rather the -flights of steps were on either side, while in the centre was a ramp -on which was beautifully {125}carved in relief the dragon, the sign of -Empire, and the horse, which I have heard some people say is the sign -of good-fortune. On the platform, through all the cracks in the marble, -violets were forcing their way, making a purple carpet under the golden -sunshine. We crossed to a hall, which is surely most wonderful. The -light was subdued a little, and the hall that contains in its centre the -memorial tablet of red and gold is as magnificent in its proportions -as York Minster. The roof is supported by trunks of sandal-wood trees, -smooth, straight, and brown, they run sixty feet up to the roof, and -after more than five hundred years the air is heavy with the sensuous -scent of them. Where did they get that sandal-wood, those trunks all of -such noble proportions? They must have cost an immense sum of money, for -they never grew in Northern China. - -Another courtyard is behind this hall of audience, where is a marble -fountain, whitewashed, and a spring that is supposed to cure all ills of -the eyes, and a door apparently leading into a hill-side, behind which -is a grove of cypress trees. The door being opened, we entered a paved -tunnel which led upwards to a chamber in the heart of the hill, whence -two more ramps led still upwards, one to the right and the other to the -left, into the open air again. Here the coffin was placed in the mound -through the top of the ramp. The stones with which the ramps were paved -were worn and slippery, the angle was steep, the leaves from the trees -outside had drifted in, and the effect was strange and weird. Nowhere -else but in China could such a thing be. And right on top of the mound, -over the {126}actual grave, is another memorial tablet to the dead -Emperor, looking away out over the valley to the stony hills, that are -the wall which hedges off this sacred place from the outside world. - -And Yung Lo, the Emperor, died in the first half of the fifteenth -century. How many people in England know or care, where Henry V. lies -buried? - -The evening was falling when we went back by the stony mule path, by the -little stony villages, where the mothers were calling their children in -from the fields, and the men were gathering at the meeting-places for -the evening gossip. Of what did they talk? Of the Emperor dead in his -tomb hundreds of years ago? Of the New Republic away in the capital? The -Emperor seemed somehow nearer to the village people. There was the sound -of quaint, tuneless, Eastern music, and sitting with the sun on his -sightless face, surrounded by a listening little crowd, was a blind -musician holding across his knees a sort of lute. The people turned -and watched as the strangers and the aliens passed, and the musician -thrummed on. Light or dark was the same to him. The clouds piled now -in the western sky, and the stony land looked unutterably dreary in -the gathering gloom, the coolies must have been weary, but they went -steadily on, changing the chair pole from one shoulder to the other. The -slopes that had been hard to scramble up were harder to scramble down, -but they made no complaint. This was their work, and the night was -coming when they might rest. The night was coming fast, but we were -nearing the end of our journey. The hills looked cold, and gloomy, -and threatening, and then the heavy clouds above them {127}broke, and -through them burst the setting sun in all the glory of silver, and -purple, and ruddy gold. Down on the barren hills, like a benediction, -fell his last rays, telling of hope for the morrow, and we turned into -the yard of the little inn, and the coolies bowed themselves to the -ground, one after the other, because they got a pitiful little over and -above their hard-earned wages. - -[Illustration: 0196] - -And the next day we went back to Peking, back through the pass. - -The Ching Er Hotel provided tiffin on the train, curried chicken and -mutton chops, some form of cakey pudding, cheese, and bread and butter, -all excellent in its way--and we were all so amiable, even the poet had -come down from the clouds and joined us, that we only laughed when we -found we were expected to pile all these good things on one plate, and -do it quickly before the train left! - -As we were eating it, the guard came round and collected one dollar and -ninety cents extra apiece, because we had ridden on the observation-car. -We paid, and said hard things about the millionaire, but a little more -knowledge of ways Chinese has convinced me we accused him unjustly. I -feel sure that enterprising and observant guard took stock of us, saw -that we did not know the American, and collected, for the benefit of a -highly intelligent, and truly deserving Chinese railway official. - -We seldom think of the Chinaman with the glamour of romance, but this -Nankou Pass is well-calculated to upset all our former ideas, and give -us a setting for China such as might apply to barbaric Italy or Provence -of the Middle Ages, only--and it is well to remember, what we barbarians -of the West {128}are apt to forget--that in China, things have always -moved in mightier orbits, that where there were ten men in the Western -world, you may count a hundred in China, for a hundred a thousand, for a -thousand ten thousand. - -What must the Nankou Pass have been like on some bitter night in winter, -when the stars were like points of steel, and the stream was frozen in -a grip of iron, and the still air was keen, and hard, and cold, with the -bitter, biting sting of the northern winter? When the fires blazed in -the beacons on the hillsides, flinging their ruddy light, their message -of fear and warning. The keepers of the Wall were failing, the Mongol -hordes were pouring over the barrier, and it behoved every man who saw -that ruddy glare to arm and come to the keeping of the Pass, to die in -its guarding. They died and they held it, and they died and the invaders -flung their bodies to the wolves and the crows, and swept on and took -the country beyond for their own. - -But the country to the south is China, China of the ages and she absorbs -nations, Mongol or Manchu, or men from her western borders, and makes -them one with herself. - -This is the message I read in the Nankou Pass. I have changed my mind -again and again, and generally I do not believe what I read that day. -But it was firmly impressed on me then. China is not dead. The spirit -that conceived and built that mighty Wall is a living thing still. All -down the Pass, alongside the age-old mule track, runs a new road, a road -of the West, a railway, planned, and laid, and built entirely by Chinese -without any Western help except such as the sons of China got {129}for -themselves in the schools of America and England. And it is not only -well and truly laid, as well as, and better than, many a Western -railway, but behold the spirit of China has entered in, the spirit, not -of her poor, struggling for a crust of bread, a mess of meal, but the -spirit of the men who conceived and planned the Wall, the beautiful Lama -Temple, or the spacious courtyards and glorious palaces of the Forbidden -City. They have built embankments and curves, tunnels and archways that -are things of beauty, and glorious to look upon, as surely never was -railway before. They have built, and it is saying a great deal, -a railway that is worthy of the Nankou Pass. They are the lineal -descendants of the men, who, two thousand years ago, built the Great -Wall. Hail and all hail! - -And then a railway man talked to me. The railway might be beautiful, -but it was costly beyond all excuse. The best of the ideas had come from -Europe, certainly these highly civilised, these over-civilised people -might be trusted to see and make a beautiful thing, the question -was, could they be trusted to manage a railway as a railway should be -managed? He thought not. They had somehow lost force. Well, we shall -see. One thing seems certain, between us Westerners and the Chinese, -is a great gulf fixed. We look across and sometimes we wonder, and -sometimes we pity, and sometimes we admire, but we cannot understand. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--TWO CHARITIES - -{130} - -_The manufacturing of the blind--“Before born”--The Rev. Hill -Murray--“The Message”--Geography--Marriage--A brave little -explorer--Massacre of the blind--Deposits of one tael--A missionary -career--The charitable Chinese--A Buddhist orphanage--Invitation to a -funeral--An intellectual abbot--The youngest orphan--Pity and mercy._ - -|The blind musician I had seen playing to the village folk with the -setting sun, that he could not see, on his face, remained in my mind. -Why especially, I do not know, for it is a common enough sight in China. -Terrible as is the affliction, the Chinese, by their insanitary habits, -more or less manufacture their blind. The cult of the bath is not theirs -yet, they live, apparently happily, amongst filthy surroundings, they -neglect the eyes of the new-born child, they suffer from smallpox, and -ophthalmia, and the barber with his infected razor shaves, not only -close round the outside, but with the laudable intention of making all -clean and neat, as far down as he can get round the delicate inside of -the eyelid. The result one may see any day in the streets of Peking, or -any Chinese town. A beggar in China is always a horrible-looking object. -He belongs to a guild. His intention is to attract pity, and it would -seem to him going the wrong way about it, to begin by being neat and -clean. Besides, though many people {131}in China are neat, I suspect -very few of them are what we arrogant Westerners would describe -as clean, and among a dirty people, the blind beggar stands out, -pre-eminent, as the filthiest creature I have ever seen. On the -roadside, again and again in a country place where many people are -passing, I have seen a half-naked man, who looked as if he had never -since his birth even looked at water, clad, or rather half-clad, in -filthy rags with raw red sores where his eyes should have been. He was -so horrible, so ghastly a specimen of humanity that he seemed almost -beyond pity. And yet a blind person always receives a certain amount -of respect and consideration from the Chinese, even from the poorest -Chinese. Never in his hearing would the roughest rickshaw coolie call -him “Hsia Tze” that is “Blind man.” That would be discourteous. Though -he be only a beggar, forlorn, hungry, unkempt, he is still addressed by -all passers as “Hsien Sheng,” “Before Born,” a title of respect that is -given to teachers, doctors, and men of superior rank and age. - -Hard though, in spite of the respect that is paid them, must be the lot -of those who are handicapped by the loss of sight. It is hard in any -land, but in China, where even among those in full possession of their -senses, there are hundreds of thousands just on the verge of starvation, -the touch needed to send a man over the brink is very, very slight -indeed. Not even the close family ties of the Chinese can help them -much, for where the strongest suffer, the weak must go to the wall. -And there are very few crafts open to the blind man. He may be a -storyteller, or a fortune-teller, or a musician, I cannot {132}imagine -what he would do if his talents did not run in those lines, and even -then he is dependent upon the doles of a people who have very, very -little to give away, and naturally guard that little carefully. Once -blind there is nothing more to be done. The beautiful blue sky of China, -the golden sunshine have gone, and in its place there is the darkness, -warm sometimes, bitter cold sometimes, the enveloping darkness that -means for so many helplessness and starvation, often at the very best -semi-starvation, borne with the uncomplaining stoicism of the Chinese. - -Now once upon a time a man stood upon the Beggars' Bridge in Peking, -outside the walls of the Tartar City, selling Bibles, and noticed as -everyone must do, the number of blind who passed by. Was there none to -pity, asked the Rev. Hill Murray, none among all those who had devoted -their lives to bringing the Gospel to the heathen to help? - -“What?” said some. “When you know that already the Chinese declare we -missionaries take the children for the sake of making medicine of their -eyes, will you give colour to the accusation by setting up a mission to -the blind?” And then, when he still persisted, “They need us, they need -us,” they said: “Since you are so keen, why don't you do it yourself?” - -To him it was “The Message.” Why should he not do it himself? And there -and then he set to work. It was years ago. What the cost, what the -struggle, I do not know. I only know that one sunny April day wandering -round Peking in a hu t'ung in the east of the Tartar City I came upon -the house, or rather, for it is all done Chinese fashion, {133}the nest -of little houses with their courtyards and little gardens, that is the -Mission to the Blind. - -[Illustration: 0204] - -The Rev. Hill Murray is gone to his rest, but his wife and daughters -keep up the Mission, waiting for the time when his young son, away in -England training, shall be ready to take his place. Fifty pupils, boys -and girls, the missionaries send in from the various stations, and -here they are taught, taught to read and write according to the Braille -system, taught to play musical instruments, and prepared for being -preachers, which of course the missionaries consider the most important -avocation of all. I, in my turn, am only concerned that the unfortunate -should be happy, or as happy as he can be under the circumstances, and -I should think that the preacher, the man who feels himself of some -importance in spite of his affliction, competent to instruct his fellows -in what, to him, is a matter of deep moment, has possibly the best -chance of happiness. The girls are taught much the same as the boys, and -in addition to knit, and such household work as they are capable of. - -It seemed to me sad, when I went there one bright sunny morning, that -these young things should be for ever in the dark, but I am bound to say -it was only my thoughts that were sad. The girls came laughing into the -front courtyard with their knitting in their hands to see--see, save -the mark!--the stranger, and have their photographs taken. The sun, the -golden sun of April, streamed down on the stone-paved courtyard, all the -plants in pots were in bloom, and the girls, dressed in Chinese fashion, -made deep obeisance in the direction they were told I was. All around -were the quaint roofs, dainty {134}lattice-work windows, and Eastern -surroundings of a Chinese house, and the girls were grave at first, -because they were being introduced to an older woman, and one whom they -thought was their superior, therefore they thought it was not fitting -they should laugh and talk, but when I remarked on their gravity, Miss -Murray, shepherding them, laughed. - -“Oh they are very happy. They don't feel their lot, not yet at any rate. -They are proud because they have learned so much. They can read and -write, they can knit, and they have learned geography.” - -Geography seemed a great asset, and presently, they, when they knew they -might, were laughing and talking, and saying how proud they were to have -their photographs taken. They sat there knitting, and even while they -talked, did exactly what they were told, for like all Chinese, they -have a great sense of the fitting. On one occasion a friend brought in a -gramophone and set it going for their amusement. - -“I could have shaken them all,” said Miss Murray, “they received the -funniest sallies in solemn silence,” and when the entertainer was gone, -she reproached them, “You never even smiled.” - -A dozen eager voices responded. “Oh but it was so hard not to laugh. -We wanted to so much, but we thought it would not be right. It was so -hard.” - -The lot of all women in China is hard; doubly hard, it seemed to me, -must the lot of these poor little girls be, cut off from the only hope -of happiness a Chinese woman has, the chance of bearing a son. {135}“And -they can never marry,” I said sorrowfully to Miss Murray. - -There came a smile into her bright young eyes. “Oh, I don't know. Some -of them may. They are so very well-educated, and the Chinese admire -education, and in a Chinese household, where there are so many people to -do the work, a blind wife would not be so useless. Only the other day we -heard of the marriage of one of our girls.” - -And I looked at them again with other eyes, and hoped there were many -households that would like a wife for their son who knew geography. - -We went from the outer to the inner courtyard, a rock garden where, in -true Chinese fashion, are set out plants and rockeries, a little winding -river with a stone bridge across it, a miniature lake--there is no water -in it now--and many creeping plants hiding the stones. It is a charming -spot, but naturally the blind are not allowed to go there by themselves. -It is too dangerous. However, on one occasion, one curious little boy -objected to these restrictions, and went on an exploring expedition on -his own account. Groping about in the darkness, he fell into the river, -which has steep cement sides, and out of that he could not get. You -would think that he would have yelled lustily to call attention to his -predicament, but that is not the Chinese way. He had disobeyed, Fate -was against him, and he must suffer, and there he lay the livelong day -without a murmur, and not till they called the roll in the evening, -was his absence discovered, and a search for him instituted. Even that -lesson was not sufficient, for once again he was missing, and once again -he was discovered fallen into one of the many traps of the rock garden. -{136}It was unexplored country to him, and he was willing to risk much -to see what it was like. - -In the parts of the house with which they are familiar they can all run -about, up and down steps, and in and out of courtyards and down passages -as easily as people with sight. The boys came out of their class-rooms -where they learn to read, and write, and sing, and play the harmonium, -and raced about much as other boys in other lands would do. - -They have two meals a day--one in the morning and one at four o'clock in -the afternoon, and as much tea and bread at other times as they care -to have. Mrs Murray apologised for the dampness of the stones of the -dining-room floor. It is a Chinese house, and stone floors are not a -sign of poverty. These stones are damp because at twelve o'clock the -boys come and pour themselves out cups of tea, and naturally they make a -mess. The cook is busy, he cannot be with them always. For this charity -is run on very simple lines, and the people who see are very few. There -is the cook and the house-coolie, a woman for the girls, a doorkeeper, -frail and old, he may be seen standing just outside the door in the -picture of the hu t'ung, and a couple of men who attend to the making of -the Braille books, for their making and binding requires the attention -of someone with sight. But with these exceptions, the blind have it all -to themselves; they learn, and they play, and they eat by themselves. - -In one of the pictures I have taken, the boys have come out of school -and are playing cat and mouse. All join hands in a circle, and one boy -creeping in and out softly is chased by another. How they manage it in -their darkness I don't know, but they {137}chattered, and laughed, and -shouted happily though what they said of course I did not know. They are -all, boys and girls alike, dressed in the ordinary blue cotton of the -country; the boys had their hair cut short, for nowadays the queue, -that most curious of fashions in the dressing of hair, is going out. The -girls were also dressed like the peasants, with their trousers neatly -drawn in at the ankles and their smooth, straight hair drawn back and -plaited in a tail down the back, much like an English schoolgirl; the -little ones though, have their heads shaven in front, very ugly, but in -conformation with Chinese custom, which always shaves part at least of -the little one's head. - -In the courtyard where the boys were playing, was a rocking-horse, a -dilapidated and battered toy without either tail, or mane, or eyes. And -this toy is pathetic, when you know its history. It was bought with -the pennies saved by Mr Hill Murray's children. They, too, out of -their small store, wanted to do something for the blind; and the blind -children, immediately it came into their possession, took out its eyes. -They were not going to have the rocking-horse spying on them when they -could not see themselves. - -They all wisely live in native fashion. Their food is the food of the -well-to-do lower classes, plenty of bread, steamed instead of being -baked, and plenty of vegetables and soup, with just a little meat in it; -the food to which they have been accustomed, and which they like best. -Their beds, I have tried to depict one, are just the ordinary k'ang, a -stone platform to hold three in summer, and five in winter. Under it is -a small fireplace where a fire can be built {138}to warm it, above, it -is covered with matting, and each boy spreads his own bed of quilted -cotton, which is rolled up in the daytime. - -I would have thought that the Mission to the Blind was so good and great -a thing that it could rouse no bitter feelings in any breast. It has -for its object the succouring of those whom the Chinese themselves treat -with great respect, yet so fanatical was the Boxer outbreak, that in the -hu t'ung outside the Mission, forty of the pupils and their teachers, -helpless in their affliction, were done to death by those who would have -none of the Westerner and his works, even though those works were works -of mercy. - -More often, perhaps, in China than anywhere in the world where I have -been, am I reminded of the passage in Holy Writ that tells how as -the Man of Pity came nigh unto Jericho a certain blind man sat by the -wayside begging. And, hearing the multitude pass by, he asked what it -meant, and they told him, “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” We may not -give sight to the blind nowadays, but if we walk in the streets of -Peking, and then turn in to the Mission to the Blind with its kindly -care for the helpless, and its brightening of darkened lives, we know -that that man who stood on the Beggars' Bridge pitied, as his Master had -pitied before him. All that he could do he has done, and those who have -come after him have followed faithfully in his footsteps, can any man do -more? I think not. Truly I think not. - -“What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?” asked the Lord of the World -of the blind beggar. - -And he said, “Lord that I may receive my sight.” - -Those who charge themselves with the care of the {139}blind may not -give so royally now. Theirs is the harder part, they tend and care with -unfailing patience, untiring diligence, and then they stand, and wait. - -[Illustration: 0212] - -I was so lost in my admiration for the Mission to the Blind, that I -began to think and to say, that missionary enterprise, which I had -always thought should turn its attention to its own people, was at least -justified in this land of China, where no provision was made for the -sick and afflicted, and where charity was unknown. I said it very often, -and every foreigner approved, until at last, there came one or two who -promptly showed me the utter folly of drawing deductions when I didn't -know anything about the facts. - -The foreigner in China is divided into two camps. He is either -missionary or he is anti-missionary. Both sides are keen on the matter. -And, of course, there are always two sides to every question, as the -little girl saw whose sympathies went out to the poor lion, who hadn't -got a Christian. - -China needs medical missionaries, needs them as badly as the city slums -of London or New York; and China is going to get them, for there are -thousands of people who think a deal more of the state of the soul of -the materialistic Chinaman than they do of the starving bodies, and -more than starved intellects of the slum children of a Christian land. -Formerly the missionary had a worse time than he has now. He came among -a people who despised him, and more than once he suffered martyrdom, and -even when there was no question of martyrdom, some of the regulations -he submitted to must have been unpleasant. Unwisely I think, for you can -{140}never make a European look like a Chinaman, the powers that ran -the missionary societies, decided that the missionary must wear Chinese -dress, even to the shaven head and the queue behind. A hatchet-faced -Scot with a fiery red pigtail, they say was an awesome sight, certainly -calculated to impress the Celestial, though whether in the way the -newcomer intended I should not like to say. The growing of a proper -queue was, of course, a question of months, and the majority of -missionaries began their career with a false one. A story is told of one -luckless young man in Shanghai who lost his, and went about his business -for some little time unaware of the fact. When he did discover his loss -he went back on his tracks, searching for it at all the places he had -visited. At last he arrived at the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, and -there, pinned high on the wall, was his missing property, and attached -to it by some facetious clerk was the legend in great letters that all -might read: “Deposits of one tael not accepted here!” For the benefit of -the uninitiated, one tael is a sum of money, varying with the price of -silver, from half-a-crown to three shillings. - -But those days are gone by. Nowadays missionary societies are wiser, and -the medical missionaries are pleasant, cheerful, hard-working men and -women doing an immense amount of good among the suffering poor, so -kindly, so thoughtful are they that I grudge their services to the -heathen when I think how many of the children, aye and those who are not -children, in the mean streets of the great cities of the West need their -services. They trouble themselves about the souls of the people too, -and the example of kindly lives must be good. Again I grudge it all to -{141}the Oriental, though I have come to realise that there are many -ways of doing good in the world. I do occasionally feel that the -missionaries are a little too strenuous in inculcating prayer and -praise, and exhorting to a virtue that is a little beyond the average -mortal. The caring for both bodies and souls can certainly be overdone. -However I dare say it all works right in the end, and I, who do nothing, -should be the last to judge. Still sometimes I could not but remember -the picture of the two babies discussing the situation, the fat, plump -baby, and the thin, miserable, scrawny one. - -Said the thin baby: “How do you manage to keep so fat? My milk's -sterilised, and the milkman's sterilised, and even the cart's -sterilised, and yet look at me,” and he stretched out his thin, starved -hands. - -“Ah, so's mine,” said the fat baby serenely, “but, when no one's -looking, I climb down and get a chew at the corner of the floor-rug, and -get enough bacteria to keep a decent life in me!” - -Listening to the talk of the missionaries, hearing of the foolishness -of smoking, the wickedness of alcoholic drinks, and various forms of -sinfulness, I have rather hoped, and more than suspected, that the -converts sometimes got down and had a chew at the corner of the -floor-rug when no one was looking. - -Not that many of the missionaries don't endeavour to live up to -their own moral code, many of them do, and many of them lead lives of -abnegation and self-denial. We all know that the missionary of the Church -of Rome gives up everything, and expects never again to see his -country once he enters the mission-field, and many of the China Inland -Missionaries, {142}except in the matter of celibacy, run them close. -Their pay is very, very small, no holidays can be counted upon, and -their lives are isolated and lonely. Even the American missionary, who -is far better paid, gives up his own individuality. The ministers earn -more, I believe, than they would in their own country, because people -give gladly to missions, while at home the minister's salary is often a -burning question. “Far fields are ever fair,” but a clever surgeon who -is kept hard at it from dawn to dark, once the Chinese appreciate him, -certainly receives far less than he could earn working for himself. He -is given a comfortable home, he may marry and have children without a -qualm, for, for every child twenty pounds a year is allowed till he is -of age; the societies see to it that a six weeks' holiday is given every -year, and a year's furlough every seven years with passage paid home -for wife and children. No business firm could afford to make more -comfortable provision for its employees. - -In China, service is cheap and good, the food and the cooks both -excellent, and the climate, at least in the north, exhilarating and -delightful. But the missionaries do their duty, and do it well, and they -are pioneers of Western civilisation. In their wake comes trade, though -that is the last thing the majority of them think about. The only -trouble for the American missionary seems to me the danger that hangs -over every dweller in China--a danger they share with every other -foreign resident. It is hard to think of danger when one looks at the -courteous, subservient Chinese, but Sir Robert Hart put it succinctly: -“Anything may happen at any time in China.” And for all the New -Republic, {143}and for all the fair promise, his words are still worthy -of attention. - -“Do you really think,” said R. F. Johnston, the well-known writer on -things Chinese, “that the Chinese knew nothing about charity till it was -preached to them by Christian missionaries?” - -I intimated that such had been my faith. - -“The Chinese,” said he, a little indignantly, “are one of the most -charitable peoples on earth.” - -And then he told me what I, a stranger and ignorant of the language, -might have gone years without learning. To begin with, family ties -are far stronger in China than in European countries, and a man feels -himself bound to help his helpless relatives in a way that would seem -absurd to the average Christian, and in addition there are numerous -societies for helping those, who, by some mischance, have no one upon -whom they can depend. There are societies for succouring the sick, -societies for looking after orphans, and other kindly institutions. -There are even societies for paying poor folks' fares across ferries! -There certainly are a good many rivers in China, but this society I must -admit strikes me as a work of supererogation. I don't think much merit -can really attach to the subscribers, for the majority of poor folks I -have seen would be so much better for walking through the river, clothes -and all. - -However, we have a good few foolish charities of our own, and even if -the Chinese charities do not cover all the ground, we must remember that -China is, in so many things, archaic; and these charities run on archaic -lines are naturally shocking to men steeped in the sanitary lore of -the West, {144}We have only to read the novels of Charles Dickens and -Charlotte Brontë to see a few flaws in the way the charities of the -Early Victorian era were administered; what would we think if we could -take a peep into thetlazar-house of the Middle Ages--yet there were kind -hearts, I doubt not, in the Middle Ages--and China, with her overflowing -population, is yet in the matter of charity where we were some time -about the reign of the seventh Henry. Could we expect much? - -“Would you like to see a Buddhist Orphanage?” asked Mr Johnston. - -I said I would, and he promised to take me to one they were trying to -run on Western lines. - -It was a pleasantly warm Sunday, with a wind blowing that lifted the -filthy dust of Peking from the roadways, and flung it in our faces. -We interviewed first two rickshaw coolies with a view to ascertaining -whether they; knew where we wanted to go, or rather he interviewed them, -for I have no Chinese. They swore they did, by all their gods. Still he -looked doubtful. - -“Why don't you take them?” said I, feeling mistakenly that nowhere else -in the town could the dust and the wind be quite so bad as just outside -the Wagons Lits Hotel. - -“Because I want to find out if they really know where we want to go. -They always swear they do, for fear of losing the job.” - -However, at last we set out with rickshaw coolies who seemed to have a -working knowledge of the route we wished to follow, and we went through -the Chien Men into the Chinese City, and away to the west through a -maze of narrow alley-ways, hung {145}with long Chinese signs, past the -closely packed, one-storied shops where they sold china and earthenware, -cotton goods and food-stuffs, lanterns, and rows of uninteresting -Chinese shoes. The streets of course were thronged. There were -rickshaws, laden donkeys, broughams with Venetian shutters to shut out -the glare, the clanging bell and outrider to tell that some important -man was passing, mules, camels, men on foot with or without burdens, -with bamboos across their shoulders and loads slung from them, and some -few women tottering along on maimed feet. And every man was giving his -opinion on things in general to the universe at the top of his voice. - -“How I wish I could understand what they were saying,” I said to my -companion once, when the exigencies of the way brought our rickshaws -side by side. - -He laughed. “Sometimes it's as well you shouldn't.” And then he -corrected himself lest I should have got a wrong impression. “No, on the -whole they are very polite to each other.” - -Once we came upon a man with a packet of papers in his hand. He was -standing upon something to raise him a little above the passing crowd, -and distributing the papers not to everyone, but apparently with great -discrimination. Both of us were deemed worthy of a sheet, and I wondered -what on earth the hieroglyphics could mean. It was an invitation to -a funeral, my cicerone informed me, the next time we were in speaking -distance. Some woman, who had been working for a broader education for -women, had died, and her friends were going to mark their appreciation -of her labours by {146}a suitable funeral. So is the change coming to -China. - -As we went on the houses grew fewer, there were open spaces where -kaoliang and millet were being reaped, for this, my second charity, I -visited in September, the grey walls of the city rose up before us, -and still there was no sign of the monastery. Our men were panting, the -sweat was running down their faces and staining their thin coats, still -they dragged us on, never dreaming; of using the tongues Nature had -given them to lighten their labours. To ask the way would have been to -show the foreigner in the rickshaw that they had not known it in the -first instance, and that would be to lose face. - -But one of the foreigners had grasped that already, and he insisted on -the necessary inquiries being made, and presently we had gone back on -our tracks and were at the monastery, being received by the abbot who -had charge of it, and a tall Chinese, who spoke German, and was deeply -interested in the Orphanage. - -It was the great day of the year, for they were having their annual -sports. Over the entrance gateway was a magnificent decoration to mark -the event. The place was built Chinese fashion, with many courtyards -and low-roofed houses round them, and we were led from one courtyard -to another until at last we arrived at a large courtyard, or rather -playground. Here were the monks and their charges, and a certain number -of spectators who had been invited to see the show, all men, for men and -women do not mingle in China, and the next day the entertainment -would be repeated with women only as spectators. I received a warm -{147}invitation to come again, but I felt that once would be enough. We -sat down on a bench with a table in front of us, a boy was told off to -keep us supplied with tea, and I had leisure to look around me and see -what manner of people were these among whom I had come. - -[Illustration: 0222] - -[Illustration: 0223] - -There are thirty monks here, and they have charge of two hundred and -fifty orphans whom they teach to read and write, and all the useful -trades, give them, in fact, a good start in the world, and the best of -chances to earn their own living. The bright sunshine was everywhere, -the walls in a measure shut out the wind and the dust, and the -sports were in full swing. At the upper end of the ground, in a room -overlooking the play, sat the abbot and some of his subordinates. They -wore loose gowns of some dark material girt in at the waist, their only -ornament, if ornament it could be called, was a rosary, and head -and face were absolutely bare of hair. The abbot from a neighbouring -monastery was introduced to me too, a man with a pleasant, thoughtful, -cultured face and the most beautiful milk-white teeth. I was sorry I -could not speak to that man. I felt somehow as if we might have met on a -plane where nationalities and race count for little; but that would have -been due to his culture and broadmindedness, not to mine. - -Then there were the orphans. They were fat, well-fed looking little -chaps dressed in unbleached calico trousers, and coats of the very -brightest blue I have ever seen. Each wore on his breast, as a mark of -the festive occasion, a bright pink carnation, and every head was -shaven as bare as a billiard ball. They looked happy and well, but to -my Western {148}eyes that last sanitary precaution, as I suppose it was, -spoiled any claim they had to good looks. They ran races, they jumped -about in sacks, they picked up hoops, they stood in clusters of six and -sang in shrill young voices, weird and haunting songs that I was told -were patriotic and full of hope for China. The three first in the races -had their names proclaimed in black characters on white flags that were -carried round the grounds, and there and then received their prizes, a -handkerchief or some such trifle. - -It was interesting not so much for the sports themselves, those may be -better seen in any well-regulated boys' school, but because this is the -first time such efforts have been made in China, and made by the Chinese -themselves. That a man should take any violent exercise, unless he were -absolutely obliged, that he should have any ideal beyond looking fat, -and sleek, and well-fed, is entirely contrary to all received Chinese -ideas, and must mark a great step in their advancement. - -And then they brought me the youngest orphan, a wee, fat boy of eight, -and though he looked well, he seemed much younger. Probably he was. As -I understand it, the Chinese counts himself a year old in the year he -is born, and the first New Year's day adds another year to his life, so -that the child born on the last day of the old year, would on New Year's -Day, be two years old! There is something very lovable about a small -child, and there was about this little smiling chap, though he was -unbecomingly dressed in coat and trousers of unbleached calico, and his -head was shaven bare. He held out his hand to me when he was told, bowed -low when {149}I gave him a little piece, a very little piece, of money, -and then trotted across the grounds to where a young monk was looking on -at the show. He caught hold of the monk's robe, and nestled against him, -and the man put down a tender hand and caressed him. No child of his -own, by his vows, would he ever have, but he was a tender father to this -little lonely waif. A waif? He was well-fed, he was suitably clad, and -here I saw with my own eyes he had tenderness, could any child have had -more? Could men do more? And again I say, as I said when I looked at the -Mission to the Blind, I think not. Very surely I think not. At least -one of these monks was giving what no Westerner could possibly give to -a child of an alien race, that tenderness that softens and smooths life. -“They brought young children to Him, that He should touch them... and He -took them up in His arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them.” - -These monks profess a faith that was old when Christianity was born, but -they are carrying out as faithfully as ever did any follower of Christ -His behests. What matter the creed? What matter by what name we call it? -Away in this old Eastern city here, they are preaching, in deeds, the -gospel of love and kindness, and no man can do more. - -We are apt to think that charity and pity are attributes of the -Christian faith only but that is to insult the many good and holy men of -other faiths. I am not scorning the kindness and self-sacrifice of -the Christian missionary, but it is better, where it is possible, that -charity and pity for the Chinese should come from those of their own -race. For, however tender and kind an alien may be, he still {150}stands -outside, and the recipient to a certain extent is necessarily alone. -Therefore am I doubly grateful to Mr Johnston for taking me to this -Orphanage, where I could see how good the Chinese could be to the waifs -and strays of their own people. - -Pity and mercy belong not to the Western nations alone. They come from -the Most High, and are common to all His people, Christian missionary -selling Bibles, and pitying the blind upon the Beggars' Bridge, or -Buddhist monk taking to his heart the little forsaken child in the -monastery of an older faith in the Chinese City. For such love as that -we find in the world we, who look on, can only bow our heads and give -thanks. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--A CHINESE INN - -{151} - -_The start for Jehol--Tuan--A Peking cart--Chinese roads--A great -highway--Chances of camping out--“Room for ten thousand merchant -guests”--Human occupancy--Dust of ages--Eyes at the window--Catering for -the journey--The Chinese chicken, minced._ - -|There were two places that I particularly wanted to go to when I could -make up my mind to tear myself away from the charms of Peking. One -was the Tungling, or Eastern Tombs, the tombs where the great -Empress-Dowager and most of the Manchu Emperors were buried, and Jehol, -the Hunting Palace of the Manchus, away to the north in Inner Mongolia, -or on the outermost edge of the Province of Chihli, for boundaries are -vague things in that out-of-the-way part of the world. I wondered if -I could combine them both if instead of coming back to Peking after -visiting the tombs I might make my way over the mountains to Jehol. With -that end in view I instituted inquiries, only to find that while many -people knew a man, or had heard of several men who had been, I never -struck the knowledgeable man himself. The only thing was to start out on -my own account, and I knew then I should soon arrive at the difficulties -to be overcome, not the least of them was two hundred {152}and eighty -miles in a Peking cart. The only drawback to that arrangement was that -if I didn't like the difficulties when I did meet them, there could be -no drawing back. They would have to be faced. - -Accordingly I engaged a servant with a rudimentary knowledge of English. -When the matter we spoke of was of no importance, such as my dinner, I -could generally understand him, when it was of importance, such as -the difficulties of the way, I could not, but I guessed, or the events -themselves as they unfolded became explanatory. This gentleman was a -small person with noble views on the subject of squeeze, as it pertained -to Missie's servant, and he wore on state occasions a long black coat of -brocaded silk, slit at the sides, and on all occasions the short -hairs that fringed the shaven front of his head stood up like a -black horsehair halo. He was badly pock-marked, very cheerful, and an -excellent servant, engineering me over difficulties so well that I had -to forgive him the squeeze, though in small matters I was occasionally -made aware I was paying not double the price, but seven times what it -ought to have been. However one buys one's experience. He was my first -servant and I paid him thirty dollars a month, so I was squeezed on that -basis. A six months' stay in China convinced me I could get as good a -servant for fifteen dollars a month, and feel he was well paid. - -His name was Tuan, pronounced as if it began with a “D,” and he engaged -for me two Peking carts with a driver each, and two mules apiece. One -was for myself and some of my luggage, the other took {153}my servant, -my humble kitchen utensils, and the rest of my baggage; and one Sunday -morning in May, it is hardly necessary to say it was sunny, because a -dull morning in May in Northern China is an exception hailed with joy, -the carts appeared at the door of the “Wagons Lits,” and we were ready -to start. At least everything was ready but me. I ached in every limb, -and felt sure that I was just beginning an attack of influenza. What was -to be done? I longed with a great longing for my peaceful bed. I did not -want to go venturing forth into the, to me, unknown wilds of China, but -I had engaged those carts at the rate of seven dollars a day for the -two, and I felt that I really could not afford to linger. Possibly the -fresh air might do me good. At any rate, I reflected thankfully, as I -climbed into the foremost cart, no active exertion was required of me. -And that only shows how remarkably little I knew about a Peking cart. -A man and a girl of my acquaintance rose up early in the morning to -accompany me the first ten miles on donkeys, we had tiffin together -beneath the shade of some pine-trees in a graveyard, and then they -wished me good-bye, and I started off with the comfortable feeling that -arises from the parting good wishes of kind friends. - -Now a Peking cart is a very venerable mode of progression. When our -ancestors were lightly dressed in woad, and had no conception of any -wheeled vehicle, the Chinese lady was paying her calls sitting in the -back of a Peking cart, the seat of honour under the tilt, well out of -the sight of the passers-by, while-her servant sat in front, the place -of comfort, if such a word can be applied to anything {154}pertaining to -a Peking cart, for in spite of its long and aristocratic record if there -is any mode of progression more wearying and uncomfortable I have not -met it. It is simply a springless board set on a couple of wheels with a -wagon tilt of blue cotton, if you are not imperial, over it, and a place -for heavy luggage behind. The Chinaman sits on the floor and does -not seem to mind, but the ordinary Westerner, such as I am, packs his -bedding and all the cushions he can raise around him, and then resigns -himself to his fate. It has one advantage people will tell you, it has -nothing to break in it, but there are moments when it would be a mighty -relief if something did break, for if the woodwork holds together, as it -tosses you from side to side, you yourself are one sore, bruised mass. -No, I cannot recommend a Peking cart, even on the smoothest road. - -And the roads in China are not smooth. We all know the description of -the snakes in Ireland, “There are no snakes,” and if in the same manner -could be described the roads in China, blessed would the roads in China -be, but as China is a densely populated country there are so-called -roads, upon which the people move about, but I have seldom met one that -was any better than the surrounding country, and very, very often on -this journey did I meet roads where it was ease and luxury to move off -them on to the neighbouring ploughed field. The receipt for a road there -in the north seems to be: Take a piece of the country that is really too -bad to plough or to use for any agricultural purposes whatever, that -a mountain torrent, in fact, has given up as too much for the water, -{155}upset a stone wall over it, a stone wall with good large stones -in it, take care they never for a moment lie evenly, and you have your -road. - -[Illustration 0233] - -Leaving Peking for the Eastern Tombs you go for the first two or three -hours along a paved way of magnificent proportions, planned and laid out -as a great highway should be. The great stones with which it is paved -were probably put there by slave labour, how many hundred years ago I -do not know, but the blocks are uneven now, some of them are gone -altogether, though how a huge block of stone could possibly disappear -passes my understanding, and whenever the carter could, he took the cart -down beside the road, where at least the dust made a cushion for the -nail-studded wheels, and the jarring and the jolting were not quite so -terrible. - -It takes as long to get beyond the environs of Peking in a cart as it -does to get out of London in a motor-car. First we passed through the -Babylonish gate, and the great walls were behind us, then, outside the -city, all looking dusty, dirty, and khaki-coloured in the brilliant -sunshine, were numerous small houses, and the wayside was lined with -booths on which were things for sale, green vegetables and salads -looking inviting, if I could have forgotten the danger of enteric, -unappetising-looking meat, bones, the backbones of sheep from which -all flesh had been taken, eggs, piles of cakes and small pies, shoes, -clothes, samovars, everything a poor man in a primitive community can -possibly require, and along the roadway came an endless array of people, -clad for the most part in blue cotton, men walking, men with loads slung -from a {156}bamboo across their shoulders, donkeys laden with baskets, -with sacks of grain, with fat Chinese on their backs, with small-footed -women being transported from one place to another; there were Peking -carts, there were mules, there were ponies; and this busy throng is -almost the same as it was a couple of thousand years ago. I wondered; -could I have taken a peep at the outskirts of London in the days of -Elizabeth of happy memory, would it not have been like this? But no. -The sky here is bright and clear, the sunshine hot, and the faces of -the moving crowd are yellow and oriental. This crowd is like the men who -toiled round the quarries of Babylon or Nineveh, and it is perhaps more -satisfied with itself and its position in the universe than any like -company of people anywhere in the world. That impression was forced upon -me as I stayed in Peking, it grew and grew as I got farther away from -the great city, and out into the country. - -But it was a long, long while before I could feel I was really in -the country. There was the khaki-coloured land, there were the -khaki-coloured houses built of mud apparently, with graceful, tiled -roofs, and blue-clad people everywhere, and everywhere at work. Always -the fields were most beautifully tilled, there were no fences, the -Chinese is too civilised to need a fence, and when you see stone walls -it is only because, since they can't be dropped off the planet into -space, the stones must be disposed of somehow, here and there the -kaoliang was coming up like young wheat, in vivid green patches that -were a relief from the general dust, and occasionally there were -trees, willow or poplar or fir, delightful to look upon, that marked a -graveyard, {157}and then, just as I was beginning to hope I was out in -the country, a walled town would loom up. - -And in the dusk of the evening we stopped and met for the first time the -discomforts of a Chinese inn. - -We had started rather late, and I had spent so much time bidding -farewell to my friends, that we did not reach the town we had intended -to, but put up at a small inn in a small hamlet. This, my first inn was, -like most Chinese inns, a line of one-storied buildings, built round the -four sides of a large courtyard. Mixed up with the rooms were the -stalls for the beasts, the mules and the little grey donkeys, with -an occasional pony or two, and the courtyard was dotted with stone or -wooden mangers. In the pleasant May weather there was no need to put all -the beasts under cover, and there were so many travellers there was not -room in the stalls for all the beasts. - -It was all wonderfully Eastern. I remembered, I could not but remember, -how once there arrived at such an inn a little company, weary and tired, -and “so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished -that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her first-born son, -and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger: because -there was no room for them in the inn.” - -I thought of that little company as the Peking cart jolted over the step -that is on the threshold of all Chinese doors--no one considers comfort -in China, what is a jolt more or less, a Peking cart will not break--and -I found myself in the courtyard, and a trestle was brought for me to get -down from {158}the cart. I might have jumped, I suppose, but one hundred -li, about thirty miles, had left me stiff and aching in every limb. My -head ached too with the influenza, and when I inspected the room offered -for my accommodation, I only wished drearily that there had been no room -in this particular inn, and that I might have slept out in the open. - -But that first day as I went across the plain, that while there were no -hills upon it rose slowly towards the hills, I realised that in China, -there is not the charm of the open road, you may not sleep under the -sky, you must put up at an inn, you would as soon think of camping -out in one of the suburbs of London. Indeed you might easily find more -suitable places for camping about Surbiton or Richmond than you would -among the sterile hills or cultivated valley bottoms of Northern China. -I hoped against hope for three days. I had a comfortable sleeping-bag -and the nights were fine, it seemed it would be so simple a thing to -camp a little off the roadside, even though I had no tent, and that -first night, when I smelled the smell of the rooms, rank and abominable, -and reeking of human occupancy, I envied my mules, and said that as I -got farther into the country I could certainly sleep outside. - -“Room for ten thousand merchant guests,” said the innkeeper in -characters of black on red paper over his door, and unless those -merchants were very small indeed, I am sure I don't know where he -proposed to put them. I remembered with a shudder, that one man of my -acquaintance had said: “What I cannot stand is the perpetual tramp, -{159}tramp, all night,” and I had my suspicions that the guests were -small on this occasion, and I feared lest they were going to be catered -for. There were also notices in the effective red and black that the -landlord would not be responsible for any valuables not confided to his -care, and exhorting the guests to be careful of fire. And it seemed to -me, as I looked at the rotting thatch and the dubious grey walls, that -a fire in this inn would be the very best thing that could happen to it. -You see I was specially particular this first night. I thought the next -inn might be better. I had a good deal to learn. “The tiger from the -Eastern Hills and the tiger from the Western Hills,” says the Chinese -proverb, “are both the same.” So everywhere a Chinese inn is about as -bad as it can be. They are mostly used by carters, and well-to-do people -always go to temples, when they are available. There wasn't a temple -about here, and I didn't know I could have lodged there had there been -one, so I resigned myself to the inevitable, and wondered with all the -energy that was left in me what adverse fate had set me down here. I -might have gone back, of course. In a way I was my own mistress; but -after all, we none of us own ourselves in this world. I had a book -to write, and material for that book was not to be got by staying -comfortably in the Wagons Lits Hotel, and therefore I very reluctantly -peeped into a room from which clouds of dust were issuing, and which -smelt worse than any place I had ever before thought of using as -a bed-chamber and dining-room combined. The dust was because I had -impressed upon the valued Tuan that I must have a clean room, so he had -importantly turned {160}two coolies on to stir up the dust of ages, a -thousand years at least, I should say, there seemed no end to it, and I -wondered, in addition to the merchant guests, what awful microbes were -being wakened out of their long sleep. Left alone, they might have been -buried so deep that they might not have come nigh me; but he was giving -them all a chance. After all it was only fair, a foreign woman did not -visit a Chinese inn every day of the week. After more dust than I had -ever seen before all at once, had come out of that room, I instructed -water to be brought and poured on things in general, and, when the -turmoil had quieted down a little, I went in and inspected my quarters. - -They all bear a strong family resemblance to one another, the rooms of -these Chinese inns. I always tried to get one that opened directly on -to the courtyard, as giving more chance of air. The Chinese, as a rule, -have not much use for fresh air. Tuan, had he had his way, would have -shut the door fast, as being more correct and private, and then I -should have been in an hermetically sealed room, lighted all along the -courtyard side by a most dainty latticework window covered with white -tissue paper, or rather tissue paper that had once been white. It had -been well-smoked during the winter, and a considerable quantity of the -dust that had been so industriously stirred up, had lodged there. But -air I must have, so I had the paper stripped off from the top of the -window as far down as my desire for privacy would allow. Below, the more -daring spirits, who had assembled to see the foreign woman, wetted their -fingers and poked them softly through the bottom part of the window; -and then {161}an eye appeared, so that it really seemed at first as if -I might as well have been comfortable and had all the paper off. I went -outside, and let it plainly be seen that I was very angry indeed, and -then Tuan, who had a great idea of my dignity, or rather of his dignity, -which was as nothing if I was of no consequence, put one of the “cartee -men” on guard, and once more I retired to my uncomfortable lodging. It -had a stone floor, being quite a superior sort of inn, the poorer sort -have only beaten earth, there were two wooden chairs of dark wood, high, -with narrow and uncomfortable seats, a table, also uncomfortably high, -and of course, the k'ang. Most people know all about the k'ang now, but -this was my first introduction to it as a working piece of furniture. It -is a platform of stone about two feet high, so constructed that a -small fire lighted underneath, and a very small fire it is, carries the -warmth, by a system of flues, all over it. It is covered generally -with matting, and on it is always a k'ang table, a little table -about eighteen inches square and a foot high, and, though this is not -intentional, covered with the grease of many meals. - -I looked doubtfully at the k'ang this first day. It seemed to me I could -not lodge in such a place, and I wished heartily that I had left the -describing of China to some more hardened traveller. There was a grass -mat upon it, hiding its stoniness, and I had powdered borax sprinkled -over it, about half a tin of Keating's followed, though I am told the -insects in China rather like Keating's, and only then did I venture to -have my bed set up. Alongside was placed my india-rubber bath, the -gift of a friend, and every night of that journey did I thank her with -{162}all my heart, it was so much nicer than my old canvas bath, and -making sure that the “cartee man” was still on guard I proceeded to wash -and undress and creep into my sleeping-bag. - -At only one Chinese inn where I stayed could food for the traveller be -had, and that was, I think, only because it combined the functions of -innkeeping and restaurant. In any case, of course, the foreign traveller -would not think of eating Chinese food, and I, like everyone else, -provided my own. I brought with me rice, tea, and flour. Tuan cooked for -me on an absurd little charcoal stove upon which I might have succeeded -in boiling an egg. With the exception of those few stores, I lived off -the country, buying chickens and eggs, onions, and hard little pears; -Tuan doing the buying, charging me at a rate that made me wonder how on -earth the “Wagons Lits” managed to board and lodge its guests at a day. -I used to think that, for sheer toughness, the palm might be given to -the West African chicken, but I withdraw that statement, he isn't in it -alongside the Chinese. We used to buy small birds about the size of a -pigeon, But an elderly ostrich couldn't have been tougher. My teeth, -thank Heaven, are excellent, but the Chinese chicken was too much for -them. I then saw why Tuan had provided a chopper for kitchen use, he -called it “cookee knife,” and the fiat went forth--I would have no more -chicken unless it was minced. - -But that first night I couldn't look at chicken, I couldn't even laugh -at the woodeny pears and rice which were the next course. I declined -everything, lay in bed and drank tea, the wind came in through {163}the -open lattice-work, guttered my candle and then blew it out, and I, first -hot, and then cold, and always miserable, stared at the luminous night -sky, cut into squares by the lattice-work of the window, was conscious -of every bone in my body, and wondered if I were not going to be very -ill indeed. - -[Illustration: 0243] - - - - -CHAPTER X--THE TUNGLING - -{164} - -_A Peking cart as a cure for influenza--Difficulties of a narrow -road--The dead have right of way--The unlucky women--Foot -binding--“Beat you, beat you”--Lost luggage--“You must send -your husband”--Letter-writing under difficulties--A masterless -woman--Malanyu--Most perfect place of tombs in the world._ - -|But I wasn't. As a rule I find I worry myself unnecessarily in life. -Either a thing can be altered, or it can't. If it can't there's an end -to the matter, worrying doesn't mend it. I had come here of my own free -will--it wasn't nice, but there was nothing to do but make the best of -it. In the morning if I wasn't very happy I was no worse, and to go back -that weary journey to Peking would only be to make myself ridiculous. -Therefore I arose with the sun, and a nice, bright cheerful sun he was, -looked at my breakfast, drank the tea and was ready to start. All the -hamlet watched me climb into my cart. I felt I couldn't have walked a -step to save my life, and we rumbled over that steep step, and were out -in the roadway again. - -It is not the best way to view a country from a Peking cart, for the -tossing from side to side is apt to engender a distaste for life and to -encourage a feeling that nothing would really matter if only the cart -would come to a standstill for a moment. Add to that the aching head of -influenza and that morning {165}I began to pity not only myself but my -publisher, for I began to fear he was going to lose money on me. It -was Byron, I think, who considered that Providence or somebody else who -shall be nameless always took care of publishers, and that is the reason -perhaps why I have come to the opinion that a trip in a Peking cart is -really the best cure for influenza. Had I gone to bed and had someone -kind and nice to wait upon me and bring me the milk and soda and offer -the sympathy my soul desired, I should probably have taken a fortnight -to get well; as it was, out in the open air from dawn to dark, three -days saw the end of my woes, and even at the worst I was able to sit up -and take a certain amount of interest in passing events. - -Gradually, gradually, as we went on we seemed to forget the great -city that absorbed all things, and the surroundings became more truly -countrified. The road, when it was not stones, was deep sand with deep, -deep ruts worn by the passing of many carts, and it stretched over just -as great a portion of the country as the people would allow. Flat it -was, flat, and all along the way were little villages and hamlets. There -was no temptation to walk, for it was very rough indeed, just the worn -road and the edge of the tilled fields, tilled as surely never before in -the world were fields tilled, and they stretched away to the far distant -blue hills. Occasionally the road sank deep between them, and as it was -very narrow the traffic question was sometimes troublesome. On this day -we met a country cart, a longer cart than the Peking cart, covered in -with matting and drawn by a mule and a couple of donkeys. Manifestly -there was not room for the carts to pass {166}and I wondered what would -happen for, for either of us, laden as we were, to go backwards -would have been difficult. I was requested to get out, which I did -reluctantly, my carts were drawn so close against the bank that the -right wheels were raised against it, and then they tried to get the -other cart past. No good, it would not go. About a dozen men all in -dirty, very dirty blue, with pointed hats of grass matting, looking -as if they had stepped off old-fashioned tea caddies, came and took an -intelligent interest, even as they might have done in Staffordshire, but -that didn't make the carts any smaller, and then they decided to drive -the country cart up the bank into the field above. They tried and tried, -they lashed that unfortunate mule and the donkeys, but with all their -pulling it was too heavy, up the bank it would not go. Chinese patience -was exemplified. But it was the mule and the donkeys that really -displayed the patience. I climbed the bank, sat on a stone and watched -them, and did not like to give my valuable advice, because these men -must have been driving carts along these roads all their lives, and -presumably must know something about it, while never in my life had I -handled a team consisting of two donkeys and a mule. At last when they -got an extra hard lashing and fell back, conquered once more, poor -brutes, by the weight, I rose up and interfered. I did not request--I -ordered. They were to take the two foremost mules from my carts -and hitch them on to the other cart. My foremost mule protested, he -evidently said he had never been associated with donkeys before; but in -two minutes they had got that cart to the higher level, and we were free -to go on our way. Why {167}they did not do it without my ordering I am -sure I do not know, for as a rule I had no authority over the carts, -they went their own way--I was merely a passenger. - -Once more that day the narrow way was blocked, this time by a funeral. -The huge coffin was borne by ten straining men, and there was no -parleying with it, the dead have right of way in China, and out of the -way we had to get. We backed with difficulty till the bank on one side -was a little lower, and then up we went till we were on the cultivated -land, drove on till we were ahead of the corpse, and then down again -into the roadway once more. - -In China, as far as I have been, you never get away from the people, -this country was far more thickly populated than the country round -London, for I have walked in Surrey lanes and found no one of whom to -ask a question, while here there were always people in sight. True, here -were no leafy lanes such as we find in Surrey and Kent, but the whole -country lay flat and outstretched till it seemed as if nothing were -hidden right up to the base of the far away hills. The days were getting -hot and the men were working in the fields stripped to the waist, while -most of the little boys were stark naked, pretty little lissom things -they were, too, if they had only been washed; and the little girls, for -all clothing, wore a square blue pocket-handkerchief put on corner-wise -in front, slung round the neck and tied round the waist with a bit of -string; but farther on, in the mountain villages, I have seen the little -girls like the little boys, stark naked. Only the women are clothed -to the neck, whatever the state of the thermometer. Always there were -houses by the {168}wayside, and many villages and hamlets, and the women -sat on the doorsteps sewing, generally it seemed to me at the sole of a -shoe, or two of them laboured at the little stone corn mills, that -were in every village, grinding the corn, the millet, or the maize, for -household use. Sometimes a donkey, and a donkey can be bought for a very -small sum, turned the stone, but usually it seemed that it was the -women of the household who, on their tiny feet, painfully hobbled round, -turning the heavy stone and smoothing out the flour with their hands, so -that it might be smoothly and evenly ground. - -Poor women! They have a saying in China to the effect that a woman eats -bitterness, and she surely does, if the little I have seen of her life -is any criterion. As I went through the villages, in the morning and -evening, I could hear the crying of children. Chinese children are -proverbially naughty, no one ever checks them, and I could not know why -these children were crying, some probably from the pure contrariness of -human nature, but a missionary woman, and a man who scorned missionaries -and all their works both told me that, morning and evening, the little -girls cried because the bandages on their feet were being drawn more -tightly. Always it is a gnawing pain, and the only relief the little -girl can get is by pressing the calf of her leg tightly against the edge -of the k'ang. The pressure stops the flow of blood and numbs the feet as -long as it is kept up, but it cannot be kept up long, and with the rush -of blood comes the increase of pain--a pain that the tightening of the -bandages deepens. - -“Beat you, beat you,” cries the mother taking a {169}stick to the little -suffering thing, “you cry when I bind your feet.” For a Chinese woman -must show no emotion, above all she must never complain. This, of -course, is a characteristic of the nation. The men will bear much -without complaining. - -I never grew accustomed to it. The pity and the horror of it never -failed to strike me, and if the missionaries do but one good work, they -do it in prevailing on the women to unbind their feet, in preventing -unlucky little girls from going through years of agony. - -There is no mistaking the gait of a woman with bound feet. She walks as -if her legs were made of wood, unbending from the hip downwards to the -heels. The feet are tiny, shaped like small hoofs about four inches -long, encased in embroidered slippers, and to walk at all she must hold -out her arms to balance herself. When I was laughed at for my “pathetic -note,” and was told I exaggerated the sufferings of the women, I took -the trouble to inquire of four doctors, three men and one woman, people -who came daily in contact with these women, and they were all of one -opinion, the sufferings of the women were very great. The binding in -girlhood was not only terribly painful but even after the process was -finished the feet were often diseased, often sore and ulcerated, and at -the very best the least exertion, as is only natural, makes them ache. - -“Try,” said one doctor, “walking with your toes crushed under your sole, -the arch of your foot pressed up till the whole foot is barely four -inches long, and you can only walk on your heel, and see if you do not -suffer--suffer in all parts of your body. They say,” he went on, “that -while there are many {170}peaceful, kindly old men among the Chinese, -every woman is a shrew. And I can well believe it. What else could you -expect? Oh women have a mighty thin time in China. I don't believe there -is any place in the world where they have a worse.” - -If anyone doubts that this custom presses heavily on the women, let him -ask any doctor who has practised much among the Chinese how many legs he -has taken off because the neglected sores of ulcerated, bound feet have -become gangrenous and a danger to life. - -“It really doesn't matter,” said another doctor I knew well, “a Chinese -woman is just as well with a pair of wooden legs as with the stumps the -binding has left her!” - -As a rule I did not see the beginnings, for though the women go about a -little, the small girls are kept at home. But once on this journey, at -a poor little inn in the mountains, among the crowd gathered to see the -foreign woman were two little girls about eight or nine, evidently the -innkeeper's daughters. They were well-dressed among a ragged crew. Their -smocks were of bright blue cotton, their neat little red cotton trousers -were drawn in at their ankles, and their feet, in tiny embroidered -shoes, were about big enough for a child of three. There was paint on -their cheeks to hide their piteous whiteness, and their faces were drawn -with that haunting look which long-continued pain gives. As they stood -they rested their hands on their companions' shoulders, and, when they -moved, it was with extreme difficulty. No one took any notice of them. -They were simply little girls suffering the usual agonies that custom -has ordained a woman {171}shall suffer before she is considered a meet -plaything and slave for a man. A woman who would be of any standing at -all must so suffer. Poor little uncomplaining mites, they laughed and -talked, but their faces, white and strained under the paint, haunted -me the livelong night, and I felt that I who stood by and suffered this -thing was guilty of a wicked wrong to my fellows. - -And foot binding may result in death. There was a child whose father, a -widower, not knowing what to do with his little girl, an asset of small -value, sold her to a woman of ill repute. The little slave was five -years old, but as yet, her feet had not been bound. Her mistress of -course took her in hand and bound her feet, so that she might be married -some day. But her feet being bound did not exempt small Wong Lan from -her household duties. Every morning, baby as she was, she had to get up, -kindle the fire, and take hot water to her mistress, who, in her turn, -did not give the attention they required to the poor little feet. With -feet sore, ulcerated and dirty, she went about such household duties as -a little child could do, till they grew so bad she could only lie about -and moan, and was a nuisance to the woman who had taken her. At last a -man living in the same courtyard had pity on her. He was a mason and had -worked at the great hospital the foreigners had set up just outside the -walls of the city where they lived, and he took her in his arms, a baby -not yet seven, and brought her to the doctor. She had cried and cried, -he said, and he thought she would die if she were left. The doctor when -he took her thought she was going to die whether she were left or not. -There and then he took a pair of {172}scissors, snapped two threads and -one foot was off, still in its filthy little slipper. The whole leg was -gangrenous and they nursed the baby up for a week till she was strong -enough to have the leg amputated at the hip. She grew better, though the -doctor shook his head over her. The missionaries decided they had better -keep her, and as she recovered, they set about getting her crutches. A -Chinese woman evidently begins to be self-conscious very soon, for the -mite cried bitterly when they wanted to measure her. The Chinese have a -great horror of any deformity, and she thought she would be an object of -scorn if she went about on crutches, and everyone could see she had only -one leg. Her idea was that she should sit all day long on the k'ang, and -then it would be hidden. However, her guardians prevailed, and presently -she was hopping about the missionary compound, and being a pretty, -taking little girl soon found friends who forgot, or what was more -important, taught Her to forget, that she was crippled. Someone gave -her a doll, and with this treasure tucked under her arm, she paid -visits from one house to the other, happy as the day was long, petted -by Chinese and foreigners alike. But the doctor who had shaken his head -over her at first was right. The poison was in her system, and in a -little over six months from the day she was brought in to the hospital -she died. Poor little mite! For six months she had been perfectly happy. -The man who had brought her in made her a coffin, the aliens who had -succoured and cared for her laid her there with the doll she had been -so proud of in her arms, and told all the Chinese who had known her they -might come and say a last farewell. They came, {173}and then--oh curious -human nature!--someone stole the poor little makeshift doll from the -dead baby's arms! - -Of course cruelty to children is a sin that is met with in countries -nearer home, is, in fact, more common in Christian England than in -heathen China. This was a death that was attributable to the low value -that is set on the girl child and to the cruel custom of binding the -feet. - -And not hundreds and thousands but millions of women so suffer. The -practice, they say, is dying out among the more enlightened in the -towns, but in the country, within fifteen miles of Peking, it is in full -swing. Not only are these “golden lilies” considered beautiful, but -the woman with bound feet is popularly supposed to care more for the -caresses of her lord, than she with natural feet. Of course, a man may -not choose his wife, his mother does that for him, he may not even see -her, but he can, and very naturally often does, ask questions about her. -The question he generally asks is not: “Has she a pretty face?” but: -“Has she small feet?” But if he did not think about it, the women of his -family would consider it for him. - -A woman told me, how, in the north of Chihli, the custom was for the -women of the bridegroom's family to gather round the newly arrived bride -who sat there, silent and submissive, while they made comments upon her -appearance. - -“Hoo! she's ugly!” Or worst taunt of all, “Hoo! What big feet she's -got!” - -Many will tell you it is not the men who insist upon bound feet, but the -women. And, if that is so, to me it only deepens the tragedy. Imagine -{174}how apart the women must be from the men, when they think, without -a shadow of truth, that to be pleasing to a man, a woman must be -crippled. The women are hardly to be blamed. If they are so ignorant as -to believe that no woman with large feet can hope to become a wife and -mother, what else can they do but bind the little girls' feet? Would any -woman dare deprive her daughter of all chance of wifehood and motherhood -by leaving her feet unbound? Oh the lot of a woman in China is a cruel -one, civilised into a man's toy and slave. I had a thousand times rather -be a negress, one of those business-like trading women of Tarquah, or -one of the capable, independent housewives of Keta. But to be a Chinese -woman! God forbid! - -It seems very difficult to make a Chinaman understand that a woman has -any rights, even a foreign woman, apart from a man. I remember being -particularly struck with this once at Pao Ting Fu, the capital of -Chihli, a walled town about three hours by rail from Peking. I lost -a third of my luggage by the way, because the powers that be, having -charged me a dollar and a half for its carriage, divided it into three -parts, and by the time I had discovered in what corner the last lot was -stowed, the train was moving on, and I could only be comfortably sure -it was being taken away from me at the rate of twenty miles an hour. -However, the stationmaster assured Dr Lewis, the missionary doctor with -whom I was living, that it should be brought back by the next day. - -Accordingly, next day, accompanied by a coolie who spoke no English, I -wended my way to the railway station and inquired for that luggage. The -{175}coolie had been instructed what to say, and I thought they would -simply bring me into contact with my lost property. I would pay any -money that was due, and the thing would be finished. But I had not -reckoned on my standing, or want of standing, as a woman. - -[Illustration: 0257] - -Nobody could speak a word of English. In the course of five minutes I -should say, the entire station staff of Pao Ting Fu stood around me, -and vociferously gave me their views--on the weather and the latest -political developments for all I know. If it was about the luggage I was -no wiser. Some were dressed in khaki, some in dark cloth with uniform -caps, and most had the wild hair that comes to the lower classes with -the cutting off of the queue. There were about a dozen of them with a -few idlers in blue cotton, patched, dirty, faded, and darned, and some -of these wore queues, queues that had been slept in for about a week -without attention, and they were all quite anxious to be nice to the -foreign woman, and took turns in trying to make her understand. In -vain. What they wanted I could not imagine. At last a lane opened, and -I guessed the vociferating crowd were saying: “Here is the very man to -tackle the situation.” There came along a little man in dark cloth who -stood before me and in the politest manner laid a dirty, admonitory -finger upon my breast He had a rudimentary knowledge of English but it -was very rudimentary, and I remembered promptly that this was a French -railway. - -“_Parlez-vous Français?_” said I, wondering if my French would carry me -through. - -He shook his head. As a matter of fact English, {176}pidgin-English, -is the language of China, when another tongue is wanted, and my new -friend's English was not at all bad--what there was of it. Though why I -should go to their country and expect these people to understand me I'm -sure I do not know. - -“Your luggage is here,” said he very slowly, emphasising every word by a -tap. - -“Thank Heaven,” I sighed, “take me to it,” but he paid no heed. - -“You”--and he tapped on solemnly--“must--send--your--husband.” - -This was a puzzler. “My husband,” I said meekly, “is dead.” - -It looked like a deadlock. It was apparently impossible to deliver -up her luggage to a woman whose husband was dead. Everybody on the -platform, including the idlers, made some suggestion to relieve the -strain, and feeling that it might help matters, I said he had been dead -a very long time, I was a lonely orphan and I had no brothers. They -probably discussed the likelihood of my having any other responsible -male belongings and dismissed it, and the man, who knew English, -returned to the charge. - -“Where--do--you--stay?” and he tapped his way through the sentence. - -“At Dr Lewis's.” I felt like doing it singsong fashion myself. - -“You--must--tell--Lu Tai Fu--to--come.” - -“But,” I remonstrated, “Dr Lewis is busy, and he does not know the -luggage.” - -There was another long confabulation, then a brilliant idea flashed like -a meteor across the crowd. {177}“You--must--go--back--and--write--a-- -letter,” and with a decisive tap my linguist friend stood back, and the -whole crowd looked at me as much as to say that settled it most -satisfactorily. - -I argued the matter. I wanted to see the luggage. - -“The--luggage--is--here”--tapped my friend, reproachfully, as if -regretting I should be so foolish--“you--must--go--back--write--one-- -piecey--letter.” - -“I'll write it here,” said I, and after about a quarter of an hour taken -up in tapping, I was conducted round to the back of the station, an -elderly inkpot and a very, very elderly pen with a point like a very -rusty pin were produced, but there was no paper. Everyone looked about, -under the benches, up at the ceiling, and at last one really resourceful -person produced a luggage label of a violent yellow hue, and on the back -of that, with some difficulty, for as well as the bad pen, there was a -suspicion of gum on the paper, I wrote a letter to “Dear Sir” requesting -that responsible individual to hand over my luggage to my servant, I -signed my name with as big a flourish as the size of the label would -allow, and then I stood back and awaited developments. - -Everybody in the room looked at that valuable document. They tried it -sideways, they tried it upside down, but no light came. At last the -linguist remarked with his usual tap: - -“No--can--read.” - -Well, I could read English, so with great _empressement_ and as if I -were conferring a great favour, I read that erudite document aloud to -the admiring crowd, even to my own name, and such was the magic of the -written word, that in about two {178}minutes the lost luggage appeared, -and was handed over to my waiting coolie! Only when I was gone doubt -fell once more upon the company. Could a woman, a masterless woman, be -trusted? they questioned. And the stationmaster sent word to Lu Tai Fu -that he must have his card to show that it was all right! - -If a woman counted for so little in a town where the foreigner was well -known, could I expect much in out-of-the-way parts. I didn't expect -much, luckily. The people came and looked at me, and they were -invariably courteous and polite, with an old-world courtesy that must -have come down to them through the ages, but they did not envy, I felt -it very strongly--at bottom they were contemptuous. As I have seen the -lower classes in an Australian mining town, as I myself have looked upon -a stranger in an outlandish dress in the streets of London, so these -country people looked upon me. It was just as well to make the most of a -show, because their lives were uneventful, that was all. - -It began to get on my nerves before I had done, this contemptuous -curiosity. I don't know that I was exactly afraid, but I grew to -understand why missionaries perish when the people have all apparently -been well-disposed. These people would not have robbed me themselves, -but had I met any of the robbers I had been threatened with in Peking, I -am sure not one of them would have raised even a finger to help me, they -would not even have protested. I was outside their lives. - -And at last, at Malanyu, the hills that at first had loomed purple on -the horizon, fairly overshadowed us, and I had arrived at the first -stage of my {179}journey, the Tungling, or Eastern Tombs. We did forty -miles that day over the roughest road I had gone yet, and thankful was I -when we rumbled through the gates of the dirty, crowded, little town. - -We put up at the smallest and filthiest inn I had yet met. Chinese -towns, even the smallest country hamlet, are always suggestive of slums, -and Malanyu was worse than usual, but I slept the sleep of the utterly -weary, and next morning at sunrise I had breakfast and went to see the -tombs. I went in state, in my own cart with an extra mule on in front, I -seated under the tilt a little back, and my servant and the head “cartee -man” on the shafts; and then I discovered that if a loaded cart is an -abomination before the Lord, a light cart is something unspeakable. But -we had seen the wall that went round the tombs the night Before, just -the other side of the town, so I consoled myself with the reflection -that my sufferings would not be for long. - -When the Imperial Manchus sought a last resting-place for themselves -they had the whole of China to choose from, and they took with Oriental -disregard for humbler people; but--saving grace--they chose wisely -though they chose cruelly. They have taken for their own a place just -where the mountains begin, a place that must be miles in extent. It is -of rich alluvial soil swept down by the rains from the hills, and all -China, with her teeming population, cannot afford to waste one inch of -soil. The tiniest bit of arable land, as I had been seeing for the last -three days, is put to some use, it is tilled and planted and carefully -tended, though it bear only a single fruit-tree, only a handful of -grain, but here we entered a park, waste land covering many miles, -wasted with {180}a royal disregard for the people's needs. It lay in a -great bay of the hills, sterile, stony, rugged hills with no trace of -green upon them, hills that stand up a perfect background to a most -perfect place of tombs. I had thought the resting-place of the Mings -wonderful, but surely there is no such place for the honoured dead as -that the Manchus have set up at the Eastern Tombs. - -Immediately we entered the gateway, the cart jolting wickedly along a -hardly defined track, I found myself in a forest of firs and pines -that grew denser as we advanced. Here and there was a poplar or other -deciduous tree, green with the greenness of May time, but the touch -of lighter colour only emphasised the sombreness of the pines and firs -that, with their dark foliage, deepened the solemnity of the scene. -Through their branches peeped the deep blue sky, and every now and again -they opened out a little, and beyond I could see the bare hills, brown, -and orange, and purple, but always beautiful, with the shadows chasing -each other over them, and losing themselves in their folds. Spacious, -grand, silent, truly an ideal place for the burial of Emperors and -their consorts is hidden here in the heart of mysterious, matter-of-fact -China, and once again I was shown, as I was being shown every day, -another side of China from the toiling thousands I saw in the great city -and on the country roads. - -Dotted about in this great park, with long vistas in between are -the tombs. They are enclosed in walls, walls of the pinkish red that -encloses all imperial grounds, generally there is a caretaker, and -they look for all the world like comfortable houses, picturesque and -artistic, nestling secluded and away {181}from the rush and roar of -cities, homes where a man may take his well-earned rest. The filthy inn -at which I stayed, the reeking little town of Malanyu, though it is at -the very gates, is as far-removed from all contact with the tombs as are -the slums of Notting Dale from the mansions in Park Lane, or the sordid, -mean streets of Paddington from the home of the King in Buckingham -Palace. The birds, the innumerable, much-loved birds of China sang in -the trees their welcome to the glorious May morning, and the only thing -out of keeping was my groaning, jolting, complaining Peking cart and the -shouts of the “cartee man” assuring the mules, so I have been told, that -the morals of their female relatives were certainly not above suspicion. - -Here and there, among the trees, rose up marble pillars tall and -stately, carved with dragons and winged at the top, such as one sees -in representations of Babylon and Nineveh, there was a marble bridge, -magnificent, with the grass growing up between the great paving-stones -that here, as everywhere in China, seem to mark the small value that -has been put on human flesh and blood, for by human hands have they been -placed here, and the uprights are crowned by the symbolic cloud form, -caught in the marble. This bridge crosses no stream. It is evidently -just a manifestation of power, the power that crushes, and beyond it is -an avenue of marble animals. There they stand on the green sward, the -green sward stolen from the hungry, curving away towards the p'ia lou -stand, as they have stood for many a long year, horses, elephants, -fabulous beasts that might have come out of the Book of Revelations, -guarding the entrance {182}to the place of rest. They are not nearly -so magnificent as the avenue at the Ming Tombs, they are only quaintly -Chinese, it is the winged pillars, the silence, the sombre pine and -fir-trees, and the everlasting hills behind that give them dignity. - -And now Tuan became very important. I began to feel that he had arranged -the whole for my benefit, and was keeping the best piece back to crown -it all. We came to a piece of wild country and I was requested to get -out of the cart. Getting out of the cart where there was no place -to step was always a business. I was stiff from the jolting, felt -disinclined to be very acrobatic, and Tuan always felt it his bounden -duty to stretch out his arms to catch me, or break my fall. He was so -small, though he was round and fat, that he always complicated matters -by making me feel that if I did fall I should certainly materially -damage him, but it was no good protesting, it was the correct thing for -him to help his Missie out of her cart, and he was prepared to perish in -the attempt. However, here was a soft cushion of fragrant pine needles, -so I scrambled down without any of the qualms from which I usually -suffered. We had come to a halt for a moment by the steep side of a -little wooded hill where a narrow footpath wound round it. Just such -a modest little path between steep rising ground one might see in the -Surrey Hills. It invites to a secluded glen, but no cart could possibly -go along it, it is necessary to walk. I turned the corner of the hill -and lo! there was a paved way, a newly paved way, such as I have seldom -seen in China. The faint morning breeze stirred among the pine -needles, making a low, mysterious whispering, and out against the back -{183}ground stood, a splash of brilliant, glowing colour, the many roofs -of golden-brown tiles that cover the mausoleum of the great woman -who once ruled over China, the last who made a stand, a futile stand, -against foreign aggression, and now a foreigner and a woman, unarmed and -alone, might come safely and stand beside her tomb. - -[Illustration: 0267] - -[Illustration: 0268] - -Perhaps that was the best way to view it, at any rate inside I could not -go, for the key I discovered was at Malanyu, and it would have taken -me at least half a day to go back and get it. Besides I don't think I -wanted to go inside. I would not for the world have spoilt the memory -that remains in my mind by any tawdry detail such as I had seen at the -younger Empress's funeral. It was just a little spoilt as it was by my -boy, who came along mysteriously and pointed with a secret finger at the -custodian of the tomb, who had not the keys. - -“Suppose Missie makee littee _cumshaw_. Suppose my payee one dollar.” - -And I expect the man did get perhaps sixty cents, because Tuan was -bent on impressing on these people the fact that his Missie was a very -important woman indeed. - -It was worth it, it was well worth it. - -They say that the old in China is passing away. “Behold upon the -mountains the feet of him that bringeth good tidings.” Will they sweep -away these tombs and give this land to the people? I hope not, I think -not, I pray not. The present in China is inextricably mixed up with the -past. “Oh Judah keep thy solemn feast, perform thy vows.” Sometimes it -is surely well that the beautiful should be kept for a nation, even at -great cost. - - - - -CHAPTER XI--A WALLED CITY - -{184} - -_Numerous walled towns--The dirt of them--T'ung Chou--Romance of the -evening light--My own little walled city--The gateways--Hospitable -landlady--Bald heads--My landlady's room--A return present--“The -ringleaders have been executed”--Summary justice--To the rescue of the -missionaries at Hsi An Fu--The Elder Brother Society-Primitive method of -attack and defence--The sack of I Chun._ - -|Oh that first walled city! It was the first of many walled cities, many -of them so small that it did not take us more than a quarter of an hour -to cross from gate to gate; but to enter one and all was like opening a -door into the past, into the life our forbears lived before the country -I was born and brought up in was ever thought of. When I was a little -girl, I cherished a desire to marry a German baron, a German baron of -the Middle Ages, who lived in a castle, and I could not help thinking, -as the influenza left me and I regained my powers of thought, that here -were the towns of my German baron's time--dirt and all. In my childhood -I had never thought of the dirt, or perhaps I had not minded. One thing -is certain, in the clean land of my childhood I never realised what the -dirt that comes from a packed population, from seething humanity, can -be like. The Chinese live in these crowded towns for the sake of -security--of security in this twentieth century--for even still, China -seems to be much in the condition of Europe of the Middle Ages, safety -cannot be absolutely counted upon inside the gates of a town, but at -least it is a little safer than the open country. - -{185}We passed through T'ung Chou when the soft tender evening shadows were -falling upon battlements and walls built by a nation that, though it -is most practical, is also one of the most poetical on earth; we passed -through Chi Chou when the shadows were long in the early morning, and -in the sunlight was the hope of the new-born day. Through the gate was -coming a train of Peking carts, of laden donkeys, of great grain carts -with seven mules, all bound for the capital in the south. - -I remember these two perhaps because they were the first of many walled -towns, but Tsung Hua Chou will always remain in my memory as my own -little walled city, the one that I explored carefully all by myself, -and, when I think of a walled town, my thoughts always fly back to that -little town, three-quarters of a mile square, at the foot of the hills -that mark the limit of the great plain of China proper. - -It was Tuan's suggestion we should stay there. I would have lingered at -the tombs, but he was emphatic. - -“Missie want make picture. More better we stop Tsung Hua Chou. Fine -picture Tsung Hua Chou.” - -There weren't fine pictures at Tsung Hua Chou. He had struck up a great -friendship with the “cartee man,” and, perhaps, either he or the “cartee -man” had a favourite gaming-house, or a favourite {186}singing girl -in the town. At any rate we went, and I, for some hardly explainable -reason, am glad we did. - -The road from the tombs was simply appalling. The hills frowned down -on us, close on either side, high and steep and rugged, but the rough -valley bottom, up which we went, was the wildest I was to see for a -long time. To say I was tossed and jolted, is to but mildly express the -condition of affairs. I sat on a cushion, I packed my bedding round me, -and with both my hands I held on to the side of the cart, and if for one -moment I relaxed the rigidity of my aching arms, my head or some other -portion of my aching anatomy, was brought into contact with the woodwork -of the cart, just in the place I had reckoned the woodwork could not -possibly have reached me. There were little streams and bridges across -them, which I particularly dreaded, for the bridges were always roughly -paved, but it was nobody's business to see that the road and the -pavement met neatly, and the jolt the cart gave, both getting on and -getting off, nearly shook the soul out of my body. I thought of walking, -for our progress was very slow, but in addition to the going being bad, -the mules went just a little faster than I did, three and a half miles -an hour to my three, and I felt there was nothing for it but to resign -myself and make the best of a bad job. Not for worlds would I have -lingered an hour longer on that road than I was absolutely obliged. And -yet, bad as it was, it was the best road I had till I got back to Peking -again. There may be worse roads than those of China, and there may be -worse ways of getting over them than in a {187}Peking cart, but I do -trust I never come across them. - -We entered the gates of the city as the evening shadows were growing -long, and as usual, I was carried back to the days of the Crusaders--or -farther still to Babylon--as we rumbled under the arched gateway, but -inside it was like every other town I have seen, dirty, sordid, crowded, -with uneven pavements that there was no getting away from. Within the -curtain wall, that guarded the gate, there were the usual little stalls -for the sale of cakes, big, round, flat cakes and little scone-like -cakes, studded with sesame seed, or a bright pink sweetmeat; there -were the sellers of pottery ware, basins and pots of all sorts, and the -people stared at the foreign woman, the wealthy foreign woman who ran -to two carts. It is an unheard-of thing in China for a Chinese woman to -travel alone, though sometimes the foreign missionary women do, but they -would invariably be accompanied by a Chinese woman, and one woman would -not be likely to have two carts. One thing was certain however, -my outfit was all that it should have been, bar the lack of a male -protector. It bespoke me a woman of wealth and position in the eyes of -the country folk, and the people of the little towns through which -I passed. It is possible that a mule litter might have enhanced my -dignity; but after all, two Peking carts was very much like having a -first-class compartment all to myself. - -There were no foreigners, that I could hear of, in Tsung Hua Chou. The -missionaries had fled during the Boxer trouble, and never come back, -so that I was more of a show than usual, though {188}indeed, in all -the towns I passed through I was a show, and the people stared, and -chattered, and crowded round the carts, and evidently closely questioned -the carters. - -They tell me Chinese carters are often rascals, but I grew to like mine -very much before we parted company. - -They were stolid men in blue, with dirty rags wrapped round their heads -to keep off the dust, and I have no reason to suppose that they affected -water any more than the rest of the population, whereby I perceive, my -affections are not so much guided by a desire for cleanliness as I had -once supposed. They both had the hands of artists, artists with very -dirty nails, so it may be a feeling of brotherhood had something to do -with my feelings, for I am hoping you who read will count me an artist -in a small way. What romance they wove about me, for the benefit of the -questioning people, I don't know, but the result of their communications -was that the crowd pressed closer, and stared harder, and they were -evil-smelling, and had never, never in all their lives been washed. I -ceased to wonder that I ached all over with the jolting and rumbling of -the cart, I only wondered if something worse had not befallen me, and -how it happened that these people, who crowded round, staring as if -never in their lives had they seen a foreign woman before, did not fall -victims to some horrible pestilence. - -For once inside Tsung Hua Chou I saw no beauty in it, for all the -romantic walls outside. The evil-smelling streets we rumbled through -to the inn were wickedly narrow, and down the centre hung notices in -Chinese characters on long strips of {189}paper white and red, and pigs, -and children, and creaking wheelbarrows, and men with loads, blocked the -way. But we jolted over the step into the courtyard of the inn at last, -quite a big courtyard, and quite a busy inn. This was an inn where they -apparently ran a restaurant, for as I climbed stiffly out of my cart a -servant, carrying a tray of little basins containing the soups and stews -the Chinese eat, was so absorbed in gazing at me he ran into the “cartee -man,” and a catastrophe occurred which was the occasion of much bad -language. - -[Illustration: 0276] - -The courtyard was crowded. There were blue-tilted Peking carts, there -were mules, there were donkeys, there were men of all sorts; but there -was only one wretched little room for me. It was very dirty too, and I -was very tired. What was to be done? - -“Plenty Chinese gentlemen sleep here,” declared Tuan, and I could quite -believe it. At the door of every lattice-windowed room that looked out -on to that busy courtyard, stood one, or perhaps two Chinese of the -better class--long petticoats, shaven head, queue and all--each held in -his hand a long, silver-mounted pipe from which he took languid whiffs, -and he looked under his eyelids, which is the polite way, at the -foreign woman. The foreign woman was very dirty, very tired, and very -uncomfortable, and the room looked very hopeless. The “cartee men” - declared that this was the best inn in the town, and anyhow I was -disinclined to go out and look for other quarters. Then there came -tottering forward an old woman with tiny feet, one eye and a yellow -flower stuck in the knot at the back of her bald head. China is the -country of bald {190}women. The men, I presume, would not mind it very -much, as for so long they have shaven off at least half their hair, but -the women certainly must, for if they can they dress their dark hair -very elaborately. And yet have I seen many women, like this innkeeper's -wife, with a head so bald that but a few strands of hair cover its -nakedness, yet those few poor hairs are gathered together into an -arrangement of black silk shaped something like a horn, and beside it -is placed a flower, a rose, a pink oleander blossom, or a bright yellow -flower for which I have no name. That flower gives a finish to a sleek -and well-dressed head, when the owner has plenty of hair, but when she -has only the heavy horn of silk, half a dozen hairs, and the rest of her -bald pate covered with a black varnish, it is a poor travesty. When a -girl marries, immediately after her husband has lifted her veil and she -is left to the women of his family they pluck out the front hairs on -her forehead, so as to give a square effect, and the hair is drawn very -tightly back and gathered generally into this horn. I suspect this -heavy horn is responsible for the baldness, though an American of -my acquaintance declares it is the plucking out of the hairs on the -forehead. “The rest of the hair,” says he, “kinder gets discouraged.” - -This innkeeper's wife was very kindly. She said I should not sleep in -that room, I should have her room, and she would go to her mother's. -The mother was a surprise to me. I hope when I am as old as she looked I -shall have a mother to go to. - -Now I do not as a rule embrace my landlady. In England I couldn't even -imagine myself feeling particularly kindly towards a dirty little woman -clad {191}in a shirt and trousers of exceedingly dirty blue cotton, but -the intention was so evidently kind and hospitable, I knew not a word of -her tongue, and was by no means sure the valued Tuan would translate my -words of thanks properly, so I could but take both her very dirty little -hands in mine, clasp them warmly, and try and look my thanks. - -Then I inspected her room. It was approached through an entrance where -lime was stored, it was rather dark, and it was of good size, though -on one side was stacked a supply of stores for the restaurant. Chinese -macaroni, that looks as if it were first cousin to sheet gelatine, stale -eggs and other nondescript eatables. There was a k'ang, of course, -quite a family k'ang, and there was a large mirror on one wall. I had -forgotten my camp mirror, so I looked in it eagerly, and the reflection -left me chastened. I hadn't expected the journey to improve my looks, -but I did hope it had not swelled up one cheek, and bunged up the other -eye. I felt I did not want to stay in the room with that mirror, but -there were other things worse than the mirror in it. The beautiful -lattice-work window had apparently never been opened since the first -cover of white tissue paper had been put on it, and the smell of human -occupancy there defies my poor powers of description. The dirty little -place I had at first disdained, had at least a door opening on to the -comparatively fresh air of the courtyard. I told Tuan to explain that -while I was delighted to see her room, and admired everything very -much in it, nothing would induce me to deprive her of its comforts. She -certainly was friendly. As I looked in the chastening mirror, I, like -a true woman, I suppose, put up {192}a few stray locks that the jolting -cart had shaken out of place, and she promptly wanted to do my hair -herself with a selection from an array of elderly combs with which -she probably dressed her own scanty locks. That was too much. I had to -decline, I trust she thought it was my modesty, and then she offered me -some of the macaroni. I tried to say I had nothing to give in return and -then Tuan remarked, “As friend, as friend.” So as a friend, from that -little maimed one-eyed old woman up in the hills of China, I took a -handful of macaroni and had nothing to give in return. I hope she feels -as friendly towards me as I shall always do towards her. - -It is not always that the difficulty of giving a return present is on -the foreign side, sometimes it is the Chinese who feel it. I remember -a traveller for a business house telling me how on one occasion he had -gone to a village and entertained the elders at dinner, giving -them brandy which they loved, and liqueurs which seemed to the -unsophisticated village fathers ambrosia fit for the gods. The next day, -when he was about to take his departure, a small procession approached -him and one of them bore on a tray a little Chinese handleless cup -covered with another. They said he could speak Chinese, so there was no -need for an interpreter, that he had given them a very good time, they -were very grateful, and they wished to make him a present by which he -might remember them sometimes. But their village was poor and small. -It contained nothing worth his acceptance, and after much consultation, -they had come to the conclusion that the best way would be to present -him with the money, {193}so that he might buy something for himself -when he came to Peking or some other large town. Thereupon the cup was -presented, the cover lifted off, and in the bottom lay a ten cent piece, -worth about twopence halfpenny. Probably it seemed quite an adequate -present to men who count their incomes by cash of which a thousand go to -the dollar. - -I don't think my landlady minded much my declining the hospitality of -her room. Possibly she only wished me to see its glories, and presently -she brought to the little room I had at first so despised, and now -looked upon, if not as a haven of rest, at least as one of fresh air, -a couple of nice hard wood stools, and a beautifully carved k'ang table -thick with grease. - -“Say must make Missie comfortable,” said Tuan with the usual suggestion -he had done it himself. - -And those stools were covered, much to my surprise, with red woollen -tapestry, and the pattern was one that I had seen used many a time in a -little town on the Staffordshire moors, where their business is to dye -and print. And here was one of the results of their labours, a “Wardle -rag,” as we used to call them, up among the hills of Northern China. - -I was too tired to do anything but go to bed that night as soon as I had -had my dinner. I had it, as usual, on the k'ang table, the dirt shrouded -by my humble tablecloth, and curious eyes watched me, even as I watched -the trays of full basins and the trays of empty ones that were for ever -coming and going across the courtyard. - -Next morning my friendly landlady brought to see me two other -small-footed women, both smoking {194}long pipes, women who said, -through Tuan, their ages were forty and sixty respectively, and who -examined, with interest, me and my belongings. They felt my boots so -much, good, substantial, leather-built by Peter Yapp, that at last I -judged they would like to see what was underneath, and took off a boot -and stocking for their inspection, and the way they felt my foot up and -down as if it were something they had never before met in their lives, -amused me very much, At least at first it amused me, and then it -saddened me. Though they held out their own poor maimed feet, they did -not return the compliment much as I desired it. They took me across the -courtyard into another room where, behind lattice-work windows, that had -not been opened for ages, were two more women sitting on the k'ang, and -two little shaven-headed children. These were younger women, tall and -stout, with feet so tiny, they called my attention to them, that it did -not seem to me possible any woman could support herself upon them. My -boy was not allowed in, so of course I could not talk to them, could -only smile and drink tea. - -These two younger women, who were evidently of superior rank, had their -hair most elaborately dressed and wore most gorgeous raiment. One was -clad in purple satin with a little black about it, and the other, a mere -girl of eighteen, but married, for her hair was no longer in a queue, -and her forehead was squared, wore a coat of pale blue silk brocade and -grass-green trousers of the same material. Their faces were impassive, -as are the faces of Chinese women of the better class, but they smiled, -evidently liked their tortured feet to be noticed, gave {195}me tea from -the teapot on the k'ang table, and then presently all four, with the -gaily dressed babies, tottered out into the courtyard, the older women -leading the toddling children, and helping the younger, and, with the -aid of settles, they climbed into two Peking carts, my elderly friends -taking their places on the outside, whereby I judged they were servants -or household slaves. - -“Chinese wives,” said Tuan, but whether they were the wives of one man, -or of two, I had no means of knowing. The costumes of the two younger -were certainly not those in which I would choose to travel on a Chinese -road in a Peking cart, but the Chinese have a proverb: “Abroad wear the -new, at home it does not matter,” so they probably thought my humble -mole-coloured cotton _crêpe_, equally out of place. - -And when they were gone I set out to explore the town. - -It was only a small place, built square, with two main roads running -north, and south, and east, and west, and cutting each other at right -angles in the heart of it. They were abominably paved. No vehicle but a -springless Peking cart would have dreamt of making its way across that -pavement, but then probably no vehicle save a cart or a wheelbarrow in -all the years of the city's life had ever been thought of there. -The remaining streets were but evil-smelling alley-ways, narrow in -comparison with the main ways which, anywhere else, I should have -deemed hopelessly inadequate, thronged as they were with people and -encroached upon by the shops that stood close on either side. They had -no glass fronts, of course, these shops, but otherwise, {196}they were -not so very unlike the shops one sees in the poorer quarters of the -great towns in England. But there was evidently no Town Council to -regulate the use to which the streets should be put. The dyer hung -his long strips of blue cloth half across the roadway, careless of the -convenience of the passer-by, the man who sold cloth had out little -tables or benches piled with white and blue calico--I have seen -tradesmen do the same in King's Road, Chelsea--the butcher had his -very disagreeable wares fully displayed half across the roadway, the -gentleman who was making mud bricks for the repair of his house, made -them where it was handiest in the street close to the house, and the man -who sold cooked provisions, with his little portable kitchen and table, -set himself down right in the fairway and tempted all-comers with little -basins of soup, fat, pale-looking steamed scones, hard-boiled eggs or -meat turnovers. - -This place, hidden behind romantic grey walls, at which I had wondered -in the evening light, was in the morning just like any other city, -Peking with the glory and beauty gone out of it, and the people who -thronged those streets were just the poorer classes of Peking, only it -seemed there were more naked children and more small-footed women with -elaborately dressed hair tottering along, balancing themselves with -their arms. I met a crowd accompanying the gay scarlet poles, flags, -musical instruments and the red sedan chair of a wedding. The poor -little bride, shut up in the scarlet chair, was going to her husband's -house and leaving her father's for ever. It is to be hoped she -would find favour in the sight of her husband and {197}her husband's -women-folk. It was more important probably, that she should please the -latter. - -The bridal party made a great noise, but then all in that town was -noise, dirt, crowding, and evil smells. The only peaceful place in it -was the courtyard of the little temple close against the city wall. -Outside it stand two hideous figures with hands flung out in threatening -attitude, and inside were more figures, all painted in the gayest -colours. What they meant I have not lore enough to know, but they were -very hideous, the very lowest form of art. - -[Illustration: 0286] - -There was the recording angel with a black face and the open book--after -all, the recording angel must often wear a black face--and there was -the eternal symbol that has appealed through all ages to all people, -and must appeal one would think above all, to this nation that longs -so ardently for offspring, the mother with the child upon her knee. But -they were all ugly to my Western eyes, and the only thing that charmed -me was the silence, the cleanliness, and the quiet of the courtyard, the -only place in all the busy little city that was at peace. - -When I engaged Tuan I had thought he was to do all the waiting upon me I -needed, but it seems I made a mistake. The farther I got from Peking the -greater his importance became, and here he could not so much as carry -for me the lightest wrap. His business appeared to be to engage other -people to do the work. There was one dilapidated wretch to carry the -camera, another the box with the plates, and yet a third bore the black -cloth I would put over my head to focus my pictures properly. It was not -a bit of good protesting, two minutes after I got rid {198}of one lot -of followers, another took their place, and as everyone had to be -paid, apparently, I often thought, for the pleasure of looking at me, I -resigned myself to my fate. - -Accompanied by all the idlers and children in the town I climbed the -ramp on to the walls, which are in perfect order, three miles round and -on the top from fifteen feet to twenty broad. That ramp must have been -always steep, the last thing a Chinese ever thinks about is comfort, -steep almost as the walls themselves, and everywhere the stones are -gone, making it a work of difficulty to climb to the top. Tuan helped me -in approved Chinese fashion, putting his hand underneath my elbow, and -once I was there the town was metamorphosed, it was again the romantic -city I had seen from the plain in the evening light. Now the early -morning sunlight, with all the promise of the day in it, fell upon -graceful curved Chinese roofs and innumerable trees, dainty with the -delicate vivid verdure that comes in the spring as a reward to a country -where the winter has been long, bitter, and iron-bound. - -The walls of most Chinese cities are built square, with right angles at -the four corners, but in at least two that I have been in, T'ung Chou -and Pao Ting Fu, one corner is built out in a bow. I rather admired the -effect at first, till I found it was a mark of deepest disgrace. There -had been a parricide committed in the town. When such a terrible thing -occurs a corner of the city wall must be pulled down and built out; a -second one, another corner is pulled down and built out, and a -third likewise; but the fourth time such a crime is committed in the -{199}luckless town the walls must be razed to the ground. But such -a disgrace has never occurred in any town in the annals of Chinese -history, those age-long annals that go back farther than any other -nation's, for if a town should be so unlucky as to have harboured four -such criminals within its walls they generally managed, by the payment -of a sum of money, to get a city that had some of its corners still -intact to take the disgrace upon itself. - -I strongly suspect too, that it is only when the offender is in high -places that his crime is thus commemorated, for I have only heard -of these two cases, and yet as short a while ago as 1912 there was a -terrible murder in Pao Ting Fu that shocked the town. It appeared there -was an idle son, who instead of working for his family, spent all his -time attending to his cage bird, taking it out for walks, encouraging -it to sing, hunting the graves outside the town for insects for it. His -poor old mother sighed over his uselessness. - -“If it were not for the bird!” said she. - -The young blood in China, it seems, goes to the dogs over a cage bird, a -lark or a thrush, as the young man in modern Europe comes to grief over -horse-racing, so we see that human nature is the same all the world -over. This Chinese mother brooded over her boy's wasted life, and one -day when he was out she opened the cage door and the bird flew away. - -When he came in he asked for the bird and she said nothing, only with -her large, sharp knife went on shredding up the vegetables that she -was putting into a large cauldron of boiling water for supper. He asked -again for the bird. Still she took no {200}notice, and he seized her -knife and slit her up into small pieces and put her into the cauldron. -He was taken, and tried, and was put to death by slicing into a thousand -pieces--yes, even in modern China--but they did not think it necessary -to pull down another corner of the city wall. Possibly they felt the -disgrace of a bygone age was enough for Pao Ting Fu. - -The corners of the walls of Tsung Hua Chou were as they were first -built, rectangular, and the watch-towers at those corners and over the -four gates from the distance looked imposing, all that they should be, -but close at hand I saw that they were tumbling into ruins, the doors -were fallen off the hinges, the window-frames were broken, all was -desolate and empty. - -“Once the soldier she watch here,” said my boy, whose pronouns were -always somewhat mixed. - -“Why not now?” - -“No soldier here now. She go work in gold mine ninety li away. Gold mine -belong Plesident.” - -Tuan had got as far as the fact that a President had taken the place of -the Manchu Emperor, but I wondered very much whether the inhabitants of -Tsung Hua Chou had. I meditated on my way back to “Missie's inn” on the -limitations of the practical Chinese mind that because it is practical, -I suppose, cannot conceive of the liberty, equality, and fraternity that -a Republic denotes. The President, to the humble Chinese in the street, -has just taken the place of the Emperor, he is the one who rules over -them, his soldiers are withdrawn. That there was a war in Mongolia, -a rebellion impending in the south, were items of news that had not -reached {201}the man in the street in Tsung Hua Chou who, feeling that -the soldiers must be put to some use, concluded they were working in the -President's gold mine ninety li away. - -[Illustration: 0292] - -A foreigner went to a Chinese tailor the other day to make him a suit of -clothes, and he found occasion to complain that the gentleman's prices -had gone up considerably since he employed him last. The man of -the scissors was equal to the occasion, and explained that, since -“revelations,” so many Chinese had taken to wearing foreign dress, he -was obliged to charge more. - -“You belong revolution?” asked the inquiring foreigner, anxious to find -out how far liberty, fraternity, and equality had penetrated. - -The tailor looked at him more in sorrow than in scorn. How could he be -so foolish. - -“I no belong revelation,” he explained carefully, as one who was -instructing where no instruction should have been necessary. The thing -was self-evident, “I belong tailor man.” - -When the revolution first dawned upon the country people all they -realised--when they realised anything at all--was that there was no -longer an Emperor, therefore they supposed they would no longer have to -pay taxes. When they found that Emperor or no Emperor taxes were still -required of them, they just put the President in the Emperor's place. -I strongly suspect that if the greater part of the inhabitants of my -walled city were to be questioned as to the revolution they would reply -like the tailor: “No belong revolution, belong Tsung Hua Chou!” - -But in truth the civilisation of China is still so {202}much like that -of Babylon and Nineveh, that it is best for the poor man, if he can, to -efface himself. He does not pray for rights as yet. He only prays that -he may slip through life unnoticed, that he may not come in contact with -the powers that rule him, for no matter who is right or who is wrong -bitter experience has taught him that he will suffer. - -We do not realise that sufficiently in the West when we talk of China. -We judge her by our own standards. The time may come when this may be a -right way of judging, but it has not come yet. Rather should we judge as -they judged in the days of the old Testament, in the days of Nineveh and -Babylon, when the proletariat, the slaves, were as naught in the sight -of God or man. - -A man told me how in the summer of 1912, travelling in the interior, he -came to a small city in one of the central provinces, a city not unlike -Tsung Hua Chou, like indeed a thousand other little cities in this realm -of Cathay. The soldiers quartered there had not been paid, and they -had turned to and looted the town. The unwise city men, instead of -submitting lest a worse thing happen unto them, had telegraphed their -woes to Peking, and orders had come down to the General in command that -the ringleaders must be executed. But no wise General is going to be -hard on his own soldiers. This General certainly was not. Still justice -had to be satisfied, and he was not at a loss. He sent a body of -soldiers to the looted shops, where certain luckless men were sadly -turning over the damaged property. These they promptly arrested. The -English onlooker, who spoke Chinese, declared to me solemnly these -arrested men were the merchants themselves, {203}their helpers and -coolies. That was nothing to the savage soldiery. There had to be -victims. Had not the order come from the central government. Some of the -men, there were twenty in all, they beat and left dead on the spot, the -rest they dragged to the yamen. The traveller, furious and helpless, -followed. Of course the guilt of the merchants was a foregone -conclusion. They never execute anyone who does not confess his guilt and -the justice of his sentence in China, but they have means of making -sure of the confession. Presently out the unfortunate men came again, -stripped to the waist, with their arms tied up high behind them, -prepared, in fact, for death. The soldiers dragged them along, they -protesting their innocence to unheeding ears. Their women and children -came out, running alongside the mournful procession, clinging to the -soldiers and to their husbands and fathers, and praying for mercy. They -tripped and fell, and the soldiers, the soldiers in khaki, pushed -them aside, and stepped over them, and dragged on their victims. The -traveller followed. No one took any notice of him, and what could he -do, though his heart was sore, one against so many. Through the narrow, -filthy streets they went, past their own looted shops. They looked about -them wildly, but there was none to help, and before them marched the -executioner, with a great sharp sword in his hands, and always the -soldiers in modern uniform emphasised the barbarity of the crime. -Presently they had distanced the wailing women and were outside the -walls, but the foreign onlooker was still with them. - -“And one was a boy not twenty,” he said with {204}a sharp, indrawn -breath, wiping his face as he told the ghastly tale. - -They knelt in a row, just where the walls of their own town frowned down -on them, and one by one the executioner cut off their heads. The death -of the first in the line was swift enough, but, as he approached the -end of the row the man's arm grew tired and he did not get the last two -heads right off. - -“I saw one jump four times,” said the shocked onlooker, “before he -died.” - -And then they telegraphed to Peking that order had been restored, and -the ringleaders executed. - -Since I heard that man's story, I always read that order has been -restored in any Chinese city with a shudder, and wonder how many -innocents have suffered. For I have heard stories like that, not of one -city, or told by one man, but of various cities, and told by different -men. The Chinese, it seems to me, copy very faithfully the European -newspapers, the great papers of the Western world. Horrors like that -are never read in a Western paper, therefore you never see such things -reported in the Chinese papers. After all they are only the proletariat, -the slaves of Babylon or Nineveh. Who counted a score or so of them -slain? Order has been restored, comes the message for the benefit of the -modern world, and in the little city the bloody heads adorn the walls -and the bodies lie outside to be torn to pieces by the _wonks_ and the -vultures. - -And when I heard tales like this, I wondered whether it was safe for a -woman to be travelling alone. It is safe, of course, for the Chinaman, -strange as it may sound after telling such tales, is at bottom more -law-abiding than the average {205}European. True, he is more likely to -insult or rob a woman than a man, because he has for so long regarded a -woman as of so much less consequence than a man, that when he considers -the matter he cannot really believe that any nation could hold a -different opinion. Still, in all probability, she will be safe, just as -in all probability she might march by herself from Land's End to John -o' Groats without being molested. She may be robbed and murdered, and -so she may be robbed and murdered in China. The Chinese are robbed and -murdered often enough themselves poor things. Also they do not suffer in -silence. They revenge themselves when they can. - -A man travelling for the British and American Tobacco Company, he was a -young man, not yet eight-and-twenty, told me how, once, outside a small -walled town, he came upon a howling mob, and parting them after the -lordly fashion of the Englishman, who knows he can use his hands, he saw -they were crowding round a pit half filled with quicklime. In it, buried -to his middle, was a ghastly creature with his eyes scooped out, and the -hollows filled up with quicklime. - -“If I had had a pistol handy,” said the teller of the tale, “I would -have shot him. I couldn't have helped myself. It seemed the only thing -to put him out of his misery, but, after all, I think he was past all -feeling, and I wonder what the people would have done to me!” - -They told him, when he investigated, that this man was a robber, that he -had robbed and murdered without mercy, and so, when he fell into their -hands, they had taken vengeance. {206}Was that Babylon, or Nineveh, I -wondered? Since such things happen in China one feels that the age of -Babylon and Nineveh has not yet gone by. Talk with but a few men who -have wandered into the interior, and you realise the strong necessity -for these walled towns. - -When the rumour of the slaughter of the Manchus, and the killing in the -confusion of eight Europeans at Hsi An Fu in Shensi in October 1911, -reached Peking, nine young men banded themselves together into the -Shensi Relief Force, and set out from the capital to relieve the -missionaries cut off there. One of these young men it was my good -fortune to meet, and the story of their doings, told at first hand, -unrolled for me the leaves of history. They set out to help the men and -women of their own colour, but as they passed west from Tai Yuan Fu, -again and again, the people of the country appealed to them to stop -and help them. The Elder Brother Society, the Ko Lao Hui were on the -warpath, and, with whatever good intentions this society had originated, -it was, on this way from Tai Yuan Fu to Hsi An Fu, nothing less than -a band of robbers, pillaging and murdering, and even the walled cities -were hardly a safeguard. Village after village, with no such defences, -was wrecked, burned, and destroyed, and their inhabitants were either -slain or refugees in the mountains. And the suffering that means, with -the bitter winter of China ahead of them, is ghastly to think of. -They died, of course, and those who were slain by the robbers probably -suffered the least. - -“What could we do? What could we possibly do?” asked my informant -pitifully. {207}At last they came to Sui Te Chou, a walled city, and Sui -Te Chou was for the moment triumphant. It had driven off the robbers. -The Elder Brother Society had held the little city closely invested. -They had built stone towers, and, from the top of them, had fired into -the city, and at the defenders on the walls, and, under cover of this -fire from the towers, they had attempted to scale the battlements. But -the people on the walls had pushed them down with long spears, and had -poured boiling water upon them, and, finally, the robbers had given -way, and some braves, issuing from the south gate had fallen upon them, -killing many and capturing thirty of them. It was a short shrift -for them, and a festoon of heads adorned the gateway under which the -foreigners passed. - -But, though victorious, the braves of Sui Te Chou knew right well that -the lull was only momentary. They were reversing the Scriptural order of -things, and beating their ploughshares into swords. The brigands would -be back as soon as they had reinforcements, the battle would be to the -strong and it would indeed be “Woe to the Vanquished!” - -“We could not help them. We could not,” reiterated the teller of the -tale sadly; “we just had to go on.” - -It was old China, he said, let us hope the last of old China. In that -town were English missionaries, a man and his wife, another man and -two little children, members of the English Baptist Church, dressed in -Chinese dress, the men with queues. These they rescued, and took along -with them, and glad were they to have two more able-bodied men in the -party, even though they were counterbalanced {208}by the presence of the -woman and two children, for everywhere along the track were evidences of -the barbaric times in which they lived. Human head? in wicker cages -were common objects of the wayside, and the wolves came down from -the mountains and gnawed at the dead bodies, or attacked the sick and -wounded. Old China was a ghastly place that autumn of 1911, during the -“bloodless” revolution. Chung Pu they reached immediately after it had -been attacked by six hundred men. - -“I had to kick a dog away that was gnawing at a dead body as we led -the lady into a house for the night,” said the narrator. “I could only -implore her not to look.” - -But at I Chün things were worse still. They reached it just as it had -fallen into the hands of the Elder Brother Society, and they began to -think they had taken those missionaries out of the frying-pan into the -fire. I Chün is a walled city up in the mountains of Shensi, and the -only approach was by a pathway so narrow that it only allowed of one -mule litter at a time. On one side was a steep precipice, on the -other the city wall, and along that wall came racing men armed -with matchlocks, spears, and swords, yelling defiance and prepared, -apparently, to attack. The worst of it was there was no turning that -litter round. They halted, and the gate ahead of them opened, and right -in the centre of the gateway was an ancient cannon with a man standing -beside it with a lighted rope in his hand. Turn the litter and get away -in a hurry they could not. Leave it they could not. There was seemingly -no escape for them. It only wanted one of those excited men to shout -“Ta, Ta,” and the match {209}could have been applied, and the ancient gun -would have swept the pathway. Then the leader of the band of foreigners -stepped forward. He flung away his rifle, he flung away his revolver, he -flung away his knife, and he stood there before them defenceless, with -his arms raised--modem civilisation bowing for the moment before the -force of Babylon. It was a moment of supreme anxiety. Suppose the people -misunderstood his actions. - -“We scarcely dared breathe,” said the storyteller. Every heart stood -still. And then they understood. The man with the lighted rope dropped -it, and they beckoned to the strangers to come inside the gates. - -It required a good deal of courage to go inside those gates, to put -themselves in the power of the Elder Brother Society, and they spent an -anxious night. The town had been sacked, the streets ran blood, the -men were slain, their bodies were in the streets for the crows and the -_wonks_ to feed on, and the women--well women never count for much -in China in times of peace, and in war they are the spoil of the -victor--the Goddess of Mercy was forgotten those days in I Chün. All -night long the anxious little party kept watch and ward, and when day -dawned were thankful to be allowed to proceed on their way unmolested, -eventually reaching Hsi An Fu and rescuing all the missionaries who -wished to be rescued. - -“It was exciting,” said my friend, half apologising for getting excited -over it. “It was the last of old China. Such things will never happen -again.” - -Exciting! it thrilled me to hear him talk, to know such things had -happened barely a year before, to {210}know they had happened in this -country. Would they never happen again? I was not so sure of that as I -went through walled town after walled town, as I looked up at the walls -of Tsung Hua Chou. This was the correct setting. To talk in friendly, -commonplace fashion to people who lived in such towns seemed to -annihilate time, to bring the past nearer to me, to make me understand, -as I had never understood before, that the people who had lived, and -suffered, and triumphed, or lived, and suffered, and fallen, were almost -exactly the same flesh and blood as I was myself. - -Back at the inn my friend the landlady brought me her little grandson to -admire. He was a jolly little unwashed chap with a shaven head, clad in -an unwashed shift, and I think I admired him to her heart's content. It -was evidently worth having been born and lived all the strenuous weary -days of her hard life to have had part in the bringing into the world -of that grandson. His little sister in the blue-cornered handkerchief, -looking on, did not count for much, and yet she had her own feelings, -for when I clambered into my cart and was just rumbling over the step I -was startled by a terrified childish outcry. Looking back, I saw that -a little serving-maid, a slave probably, was running after my cart with -the small son and heir in her arms, making believe to give away -the household treasure to the foreign woman, with grandmother and -subordinates looking smilingly on. Only the little sister, who was not -in the secret, was shrieking lustily in protest. - -I had been thinking of the cities in the plain of Mesopotamia! And this -carried me back to the {211}days of my own childhood and the hills -round Ballarat! Many and many a time in my young days have I seen the -household baby offered to the “vegetable John,” and the small brothers -and sisters shrieking a terrified protest. “They would be good, and love -baby, and never be cross with him any more.” Here was I taking the place -of the smiling, bland, John Chinaman of my childhood. After all human -nature is much the same all the world over, on the sunny hills of -Ballarat, or in a walled city at the foot of the mountains in Northern -China. If we could but bridge the gulf that lies between, I expect we -should have found it just exactly the same on the banks of the Euphrates -and beneath the walls of Babylon. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--THE NINE DRAGON TEMPLE - -{212} - -_The crossing of the Lanho--A dust storm--Dangers of a new inn--Locked -in--Holy mountain--Ruined city--My interpreter--A steep hill--The barren -woman--Unappetising food--The abbot--The beggar--Burning incense--The -beauty of the way._ - -|We were fairly in the mountains when we left Tsung Hua Chou. As we -crawled along slowly, and I trust with dignity, though dignity is not -my strong point, I looked up to the hills that towered above us, almost -perpendicular they seemed in places, as if the slope had been shorn off -roughly with a blunt knife, and I saw that one of these crags, that -must have been about a thousand feet above the valley bottom, anyhow it -looked it in the afternoon sunlight, was crowned by buildings; and not -feeling energetic, nobody does feel energetic who rides for long in a -Peking cart, I thanked my stars that I had not to go up there. I thought -if it were the most beautiful temple in the world I would not go up -that mountain to visit it. Which only shows that I did not reckon on my -Chinese servant. There may be people who can cope single-handed with the -will of a Chinaman. I can't. I know now that if my servant expresses a -desire for a thing, he will only ask, of course, for what is perfectly -correct and good {213}for his Missie, he will have it in the end, so it -is no good struggling; it is better to give in gracefully at first. - -[Illustration: 306] - -As we neared a river, the Lanho, or I suppose I should say the Lan, for -“ho” means a river, the clouds began to gather for the first time since -I had set out on my journey, and it seemed as if it were going to rain. - -“Must make haste,” said Tuan looking up at the grey sky with the clouds -scurrying across it, and making haste in a Peking cart is a painful -process. - -By the time we arrived at the river-banks it was blowing furiously, and -a good part of the country, as always seems to be the case in China when -the wind blows, was in the air. The river, wide and muddy and rather -shallow, was flowing swiftly along, and the crossing-place was just -where the valley was widest, and there was a large extent of sand on -either bank, so there was plenty of material for the wind to play with. -It used it as if it had never had a chance before and was bound to make -the most of it. There were many other people on that sandy beach, there -were other Peking carts, there were laden country carts with their -heavily studded wheels cut out of one piece of wood, looking like the -wheels Mr Reed puts on his prehistoric carts in _Punch_, there were -laden donkeys and mules, there were all the blue-clad people in charge -of the traffic, and there were tiny restaurants, rough-looking shacks -where the refreshment of these people was provided for. They weren't -refreshing when I arrived, the wind was blowing things away piecemeal, -and every man seemed to be grabbing something portable, or putting it -down with a stone upon it to anchor it. {214}“Must make haste,” said -Tuan again, as he helped me out of the cart, and the wind got under my -coat, tore at my veil, and succeeded in pulling down some of my hair. - -We had got beyond the region of bridges, I suppose in the summer the -floods come down and sweep them away, and everybody was crossing on a -wupan, a long, shallow, flat-bottomed boat that had been decked in the -middle to allow of carts being taken across. The mules were taken out, -and the carts with the help of every available man about, except the fat -restaurant-keeper, were got on the boat. - -“Must make haste,” repeated Tuan, distributing with a liberal hand my -hard-earned cents. I used to think a cent or two in China didn't matter, -but I know by bitter experience they mount up. - -And then just as we were all ready, my leading mule, a fawn-coloured -animal of some character, expressed his disapproval of the mode of -transit by a violent kick, and broke away. The dust was blowing in heavy -clouds, but every now and then I could see through the veil a dozen -people racing after him, while he kicked up his heels in derision, -and in a fashion of which I should not have thought any beast that -had brought a Peking cart so far over such roads was capable. Then a -brilliant idea occurred to the younger “cartee man.” He decided to mount -the white mule that led the other cart. This was a meek-looking beast -who I presume always did exactly as he was told; but a worm will turn, -and to be ridden after all the long journey was more than even he would -stand. With a buck and a kick he got rid of the “cartee man,” and then -{215}there were two mules careering about in the wild dust storm. It -looked highly probable that they would take advantage of their liberty -to go back to Peking, and I crossed that river wondering very much how I -was to get any farther on my journey, and whether lost mules were a part -of the just expenditure expected of a foreign woman. After about two -hours, however, they were brought in, the fawn-coloured mule as perky as -ever, but the white one so depressed by his only taste of freedom that -he never recovered as long as I had the pleasure of his acquaintance. - -Before we were on our way again the dust storm had subsided, and I was -shaking the mountains, or the Gobi Desert, or whatever it was, out of -the folds of my clothes and out of my hair and eyes, and Tuan was once -more urgent. - -“Must make haste.” - -But it was no good, we had lost too much time, we could not possibly -reach the little town we had planned to reach, and before the sun set -we turned into the yard of a little hostelry in a small mountain hamlet -underneath the holy mountain that was crowned with the temple I had been -looking at all the afternoon. - -And then to my joy I found that this place was clean, actually clean!! -Two notes of exclamation do not do proper justice to it. The yard bore -little traces of occupation, the room I was shown into had a new blue -calico curtain at the door, it was freshly whitewashed, a clean mat was -on the k'ang, the wood that edged it was new, and there was clean tissue -paper over the lattice-work of the windows. The floor, of course, was -only hard, beaten earth, but that did not matter. I would sit on the -k'ang, and {216}besides this place smelt of nothing but whitewash. I -rejoiced exceedingly as I had the paper torn off the top of the window -to let in the fresh air, but Tuan looked at it from another point of -view. - -“Must take care,” said he, “this new inn. 'Cartee man' no know she. Must -take care,” and he looked so grave that I wondered what on earth was the -penalty I ran the risk of paying for cleanliness. - -They evidently were afraid, for all the luggage, which as a rule stayed -strapped on the carts in the inn yard, was taken off and brought in. I -was worth robbing, for I had about seven-and-twenty pounds in dollars in -my black box, and that, judging by what I saw, would have bought up all -the villages between Jehol and Peking. However, it was no good worrying -about it, however agitated Tuan might be. Besides, anyhow he was -something of a coward, all Chinese servants are, it seems to me. - -His fear didn't seem to last very long, for presently he came bustling -in, all excitement. - -I was brushing my hair to try and get some of the dust out of it, and -reflecting there was possibly some reason in so many Chinese women being -bald. It must be much easier to keep a hairless head free from dust. - -“Missie, Missie, innkeeper man, she say my Missie come in good time. -Nine Dragon Temple,” he pointed upwards, and I knew with a sinking heart -he meant the one I had watched all day and decided that to it I would -not go, “open one time for ten day, never in year open any more,” and he -looked at me to see his words sink in. They sank in right enough. I knew -I was going there, but still I protested. - -“I cannot walk up that mountain.” - -“No walk, Missie no walk, can get chair.” - -Still I struggled. “It will cost too much money.” - -“Three dollars, Missie, can do. Not spend much monies,” and he looked -at me as much as to say I would never let three dollars, about six -shillings, stand between me and a wonder that was only open for ten days -in the year, especially when I had arrived on the auspicious day. - -“But what will you do, Tuan, {217}I really cannot afford a chair for you,” - for I knew my follower on every occasion, even when I should have walked -made a point of riding. He looked at me, but I suppose he saw I had -reached the limit of my forbearance. His chest swelled out virtuously. - -“I strong young man, I walk.” - -I made another effort. “But the bottom of the mountain is a good way -off, how shall I get there?” - -“I talkee 'cartee man,' he takee Missie two dollars.” - -It was mounting up. I knew it would. - -“But who will look after our things here?” - -“One piecey 'cartee man,' stop,” said he airily. So it was all arranged -and I was booked for the Nine Dragon Temple whether I liked it or not. -Then there was the night to consider in this new inn, the safety of -which Tuan had doubted. In my room were all my possessions, including -the black box with the money in it, and I looked at the door and saw to -my dismay that there was no fastening on the inside. - -“I take care Missie,” said Tuan loftily, and then {218}proceeded to -instruct me in the precautions he had taken. - -“Innkeeper man ask how long Missie stay and I say p'r'aps five day, -p'r'aps ten day. No tell true.” No tell true indeed, for I had every -intention of leaving next day even if I did have to go up to the -mountain temple in the morning. - -Again I looked at the rough planks of the door coming down to the -earthen floor, and decided I would draw my heavy box across it, and I -said so to Tuan. - -But he was emphatic, “I take care Missie,” I wonder if he would have -done so had there really been any danger. Then he bid me good night and, -going out, drew the door to after him and proceeded to lock it on -the outside! I presume he put the key in his pocket. Some papers have -honoured me by referring to me as a “distinguished traveller,” and I -have had hopes of being elected to the Royal Geographical Society! For -a moment I thought of calling him back indignantly, and then I thought -better of it. “A man thinks he knows,” says the Chinese proverb, “but a -woman knows better.” - -The window was frail and all across the room, and I knew I could break -the lattice-work if I wanted to, so could the thief for that matter, so -I slept peacefully, the sleep of the utterly weary, and the innkeeper -proved an honest man after all. - -And next day, after breakfast, just as the sun was rising, I started -for the Nine Dragon Temple. The peak which it crowned stood out from the -rest like a very acute triangle. They say the camera cannot lie, I only -know I did not succeed in getting a photograph of that mountain that -gave any idea of its steepness. Its slopes, faintly tinged with green -and dotted with fir-trees, fell away like the sides of a house from the -narrow top that was crowned with buildings. It was just one of the -many holy mountains that are scattered over China, and it seemed to me, -looking up, that nothing but a bird could reach it. But still I had -to try. All the country was bathed in the golden rays of the sun as I -climbed into the cart, and we made our way through a ruined city that -must once have been very rich and prosperous. Only the poorest of the -poor apparently lived among the ruins, and we went through a ruined -gateway where no man watched now, and over half-tilled fields, to the -supplementary temple at the bottom of the mountain. - -Here Tuan blossomed forth wonderfully. Up till now he had only been my -servant, a most important servant but still a servant, now he became, on -a sudden, that much more important functionary, my interpreter. - -A solemn old gentleman in a dark-coloured robe with a shaven head -received me with that perfect courtesy which it is my experience these -monks always show, escorted me into a large room with a k'ang on one -side and a figure of a god, large and gorgeous, facing the door. He -asked me my age, as apparently the most important question he could -ask--it _is_ rather an important factor in one's life--and then when I -was seated on the k'ang, with my interpreter, in his very best clothes -of silk brocade, on the other, a variety of cakes in little dishes were -set on the k'ang table beside me, and a small shavenheaded little boy -who I was informed was called “Trees” was set to pour out tea as long -as I would drink it. I was so amused at the importance of Tuan. Not -for worlds would I have given him away as he sat there sipping tea -and nibbling at a piece of cake; and I wonder still what he thought I -thought. Did he fear I should call him to account for sitting down as if -he were on terms of equality with me? Did he think I was a fool, or was -he properly grateful that I allowed him this little latitude? At any -rate, except in the matter of squeeze, he always served me very well -indeed, and there is no doubt my dignity was enhanced by going about -with a real, live interpreter. The priest could not know what a very -inadequate one he was. - -Presently they came and announced that the chair was ready. - -“Put on new ropes,” announced my interpreter pointing out the lashings -to me. The chair was fastened to a couple of stout poles and four -coolies, they might have been own brothers to the ones I had at the Ming -Tombs, lifted it to their shoulders and we were off. All the people who -dwelt in the little hamlet that clustered round the temple at the -foot of the mountain, hoary-headed old men, little, naked children, -small-footed women, peeped out and looked at the foreign woman as she -passed on her pilgrimage up the steep and narrow pathway, the first -foreigner that had passed up this way for some years, and probably the -only one who would pass up this year. It took a good many people to get -me up, I noticed, it wouldn't have been Tuan if it hadn't. There was -his all-important self of course, there was a man carrying my camera, -another one carrying my umbrella and a bundle of incense sticks, there -were various minor hangers-on in the shape of small boys, and there -were, of course, my four chair coolies. - -[Illustration: 0316] - -[Illustration: 0317] - -A Chinese chair is a most uncomfortable thing anyway, and this had -exaggerated the faults of its kind. Always it is so built that there is -not seat enough, while the back seems specially arranged to pitch the -unlucky occupant forward. It is bad enough in the ordinary way--going up -a mountain, and a very steep mountain, it is anathema, and coming down -it is beyond words. And this mountain was steep, its looks had not -belied it; never have I gone up such a steep place before, never, I -devoutly hope, shall I go up such a steep place again. The mountain fell -away, and I looked out into space on either side. I could see hills, of -course, away in the far distance, with a great gulf between me and them, -rounded, treeless hills with just a faint touch of green upon them, and -the trees on my own mountain, firs and pines with an occasional poplar, -green and fresh with the tender green of May time, stood up at an acute -angle with the hill-side above, and an obtuse angle below. The air was -fresh, and keen, and invigorating, and in the green grass grew bulbs -like purple crocuses, wild jessamine sweetly scented, and delicate blue -wild hyacinths, that in Staffordshire they call blue bells. I remember -once in a delightful wood in the Duke of Sutherland's grounds near -Stoke-on-Trent, that most sordid town of the Black Country, seeing the -ground there carpeted with just such blossoms as I saw here on the holy -mountain in China. - -Up we went and up. There were stone steps put together without mortar, -all the way, and there were platforms every here and there, where -the weary {222}might rest, and because the hill was so steep, these -platforms were generally made by piling up stones that looked as if a -touch would send them rolling to the bottom of the mountain, a step and -one would be over oneself, for there were no barriers. It was twelve li, -four miles up, and the way was broken by smaller temples dedicated to -various gods, among them one to the goddess who takes pity on barren -women. This one was half-way up the mountain, and here we met a -small-footed woman toiling along with the aid of a stick. Half-way up -that cruel mountain she had crawled on her aching feet, and every day -she would come up, she told us, to burn incense at the shrine. And she -looked old, old. It would be a miracle indeed, I thought, if she bore -that longed-for child. Hope must be dying very hard indeed. And yet she -must have known. Poor thing, poor weary woman, what was the tragedy of -her life? Children, one would think, were a drug in the market in China, -they swarm everywhere. I burned an incense stick for her and could only -hope the God of Pity would answer her prayer, and take away her reproach -before men. - -Up and up and up, and so steep it grew I was fain to shut my eyes else -the sensation that I would fall off into space would have been too much -for me. From the doorways of the wayside temples we passed through we -looked into space, and the mountains at the other side of the valley -seemed farther away than ever. A cuckoo called and called again “Cuckoo! -Cuckoo!” As we waited once a coolie passed with a bamboo across his -shoulder from which were slung two very modern kerosene tins--Babylon -and America meeting--and they told me there was no water on the -mountain, every drop had to be carried up; and then the men took up -the poles on their shoulders and tramped on again, and every time they -changed the pole from one shoulder to the other I felt I would surely -fall off into the valley, miles below. Up and up and up, they were -streaming with perspiration, and at last when it seemed to me we had -arrived at the highest point of the world, and that it was very like -a needle-point, they set down my chair at the bottom of the flight of -steps that led up to the entrance to the main temple, and the abbot and -a crowd of monks stood at the top to greet me. - -They swarmed everywhere, it was impossible to estimate their numbers, -young men and old, all with shaven heads and dark, rusty red robes, and -then others, blind, and halt, and maimed, evidently pensioners on their -bounty. It seemed to me it could hardly be worth while to climb up so -steep a place for the small dole that was all the monks had it in their -power to give. It must have been so little, so little. They showed me -the shrine, a poor little shrine to one who had seen the wonders of the -Lama Temple in Peking. I took a picture of the abbot standing in front -of it, and they showed me their kitchen premises, where were great jars -of vegetables salted and in pickle, and looking most unappetising, but -that apparently, with millet porridge, was all they had to live on. - -It was crowded, it was dirty, it was shabby, but there were great stone -pillars, eighteen of them, that they told me had been brought from a -great distance south of Peking, and had been carried up the mountain in -the days of the Mings, long before there were {224}the steps, which were -only put there a little over a hundred years ago--quite recently for -China. How they could possibly get them up even now that there are four -miles of steep stone steps I cannot possibly imagine. Babylon! Babylon!! -I shut my eyes and saw the toiling slaves, heard the crack of the -taskmaster's whip, and the hopeless moan of the man who sank, crushed -and broken, beneath the burden. - -The abbot bowed himself courteously over a gift of thirty cents which -Tuan, and I am sure he would not have understated it, said was the -proper _cumshaw_, and I bade them farewell and turned to go down that -hill again. The thought of it was heavy on my soul. Outside was a -beggar, men are close to starvation in China. The wretched, forlorn -creature, with wild hair and his nakedness hidden by the most disgusting -rags, had followed my train up all those four steep miles in the hope of -a small gift. For five cents he too bowed himself in deepest gratitude. -It was a gift I was ashamed of, but the important interpreter considered -he had the right to regulate these things, and he certainly led me -carefully on all other occasions. Then I looked at my chair and I looked -at the steep steps down which we must go. How could I possibly manage it -without getting giddy and pitching right forward, for going down would -be much worse than coming up had been. And then the men showed me that I -must get in and be carried down backwards. - -Would they slip? I could but trust not. I was alone and helpless, days, -and they must have known it, from any of my own people. They might -easily have held me up and demanded more than the three dollars for -which they had contracted, but they did not. Patient, uncomplaining, -as the Babylonish slaves to whom I had compared them, they carried me -steadily and carefully from temple to temple all the way down, and at -every altar we stopped I sat and looked on, and Tuan burned incense -sticks, the officiating priest, he was very poor, dirty and shabby, -struck a melodious gong as the act of adoration was accomplished and -Tuan, in all his best clothes, knelt and knocked his head on the ground. -I wondered whether I, too, was not acquiring merit, for my money had -bought the incense sticks, and my money, it was only a trifling ten -cents, paid the wild-looking individual, with torn coat and unshaven -head, who carried them up the mountain. - -[Illustration: 0323] - -[Illustration: 0324] - -Oh, but I had something--something that I cannot put into words--for -my pains; the something that made the men of five hundred years before -build the temple on the mountain top to the glory of God, my God and -their God, by whatever Name you choose to call Him. It was good to sit -there looking away at the distant vista, at the golden sunlight on the -trees and grass, at the shadows that were creeping in between, to smell -the sensuous smell of the jessamine, and if I could not help thinking -of all I had lost in life, of the fate that had sent me here to the Nine -Dragon Temple, at least I could count among my gains the beauty that lay -before my eyes. - -And when I reached the bottom of the mountain in safety, I felt I had -gained merit, for the men who had carried me so carefully were wild with -gratitude, and evidently called down blessings upon my head, because I -gave them an extra dollar. It pleased me, and yet saddened me, because -it seemed an awful thing that twenty-five cents apiece, sixpence -{226}each, should mean so much to any man. Their legs ached, they said. -Poor things, poor things. Many legs ache in China, and I am afraid more -often than not there is no one to supply a salve. - -So we came back to the little mountain inn in the glorious afternoon, -and the people looked on us as those who had made a pilgrimage, and Tuan -climbed a little way down from his high estate. He set about getting -me a meal, the eternal chicken, and rice, and stewed pear, and I looked -back at the mountain I had climbed and wondered, and was glad, as I am -often glad, that I had done a thing I need never do again. - -Was there merit? For Tuan, let us hope, even though I did pay for -the incense sticks, for me, well I don't know. On the mountain I was -uplifted, here in the valley I only knew that the view from the high -peak, the vista of hill and valley, the greenness of the fresh grass on -the rounded, treeless hills, and the greenness of the springing crops -in the valley, the golden sunshine and the glorious blue sky of Northern -China, the sky that is translucent and far away, was something well -worth remembering. Truly it sometimes seems that all things that are -worth doing are hard to do. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--IN THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAINS - -{227} - -_Etiquette of the Chinese cart--Ruined city--The building of the -wall--The advice of a mule--A catastrophe--The failing of the Peking -cart--Beautiful scenery--Industrious people--The posters of the -mountains--Inn yards--The heads of the people--Mountain dogs--Wolves--A -slum people--Artistic hands--“Cavalry”--The last pass._ - -|And now we were on the very borders of China proper. The road was -simply awful, very often just following the path of a mountain torrent. -Always my cart went first, and however convenient it sometimes seemed -for the other cart to take first place, it never did so. Suppose we -turned down a narrow path between high banks and found we were wrong and -had to go back, the second cart would make the most desperate effort and -get up the bank rather than go before me. Such is Chinese etiquette, and -like most rules and customs when one inquires into the reason of them, -there is some sense at the bottom of it. A Chinese road is as a rule -terribly dusty and the second cart gets full benefit of all the dust -stirred up. - -The day after we had been to the Nine Dragon Temple we passed through -the Great Wall at Hsing Feng K'ou, another little walled city. We had -spent the night just outside the ruined wall of an old city, a city that -was nearly deserted. There were {228}the old gateways and an old bell -tower, even an old cannon lying by the gate, but more than half the -people were gone, and those who remained were evidently poor peasants, -living there I should say because building material was cheap, and eking -out the precarious existence of the poor peasant all over China. The -hills were very close down now and the valleys very narrow, and on -a high peak close to the crumbling walls was the remains of a beacon -tower. Here by the border they had need to keep sharp watch and ward. -I suppose they have nothing to fear now, or perhaps there is nothing -to take, but in one ruined gateway I passed through they were tending -swine, and in another they were growing melons. At least it would never -be worth the raiders while to gather and carry away the insipid melon of -China. - -The Wall is always wonderful. It was wonderful here even in its decay. -The country looked as if some great giant had upheaved it in great flat -slabs, raising what had been horizontal almost into the perpendicular. -It would have been impossible I should have thought for any man, let -alone an invading army, to cross there; there were steep grassy slopes -on one side, on the other the precipice was rough and impassable, and -yet, on the very top of the ridge, ran the wall, broken and falling -into decay in some places. I do not wonder that it has not been kept -in repair, what I wonder is that it was ever built. Tradition says they -loaded goats with the material and drove them to the top of the hills, -but it seems to me more likely they were carried by slaves. All the -strenuous past lived for me again as the sunlight touched the tops -of the watch-{229}towers and I saw how carefully they were placed to -command a valley. And that life is past and gone, the Manchus have -conquered and passed away, and the Mongols--well the Mongols they say, -when they come in contact with the Chinese, always beat them, and yet it -is the Chinese who, pushing out beyond the Wall, settle on and till the -rich Mongol pasture lands. There is now no need of the Wall, for the -Chinese, the timid Chinese have gone beyond it. - -Inner Mongolia they call this country beyond the Wall, and worse and -worse got the road, sometimes it was between high banks, sometimes on -a ledge of the hills, sometimes it followed the course of a mountain -torrent, but always the general direction was the same, across or -along a valley to steep and rugged hills, hills sterile, stony, and -forbidding, and through which there seemed no possible way. There -was always a way to the valley beyond, but after we passed the Wall I -considered it possible only for a Peking cart, and by and by I came to -think it was only by supreme good luck that a Peking cart came through. -There was a big brown mule in the shafts of my cart, and the fawn mule -led, so far away that I wondered more than once whether he had anything -to do with the traction at all, or whether it was only his advice that -was needed. He was a wise mule, and when he came to a jumping-off place, -with apparently nothing beyond it, he used to pause and look round as -much as to say: - -“Jeewhicks!” you couldn't expect much refinement from a Chinese mule, -“this is tall No can do.” {230}The carter would jump down from his place -on the tail of the shaft. He would make a few remarks in Chinese, which, -I presume, freely translated were: - -“Not do that place? What 're yer givin' us? Do it on me 'ed.” - -Then the fawn-coloured mule would return to his work with a whisk of his -tail which said plainly as words: - -“Oh all serene. You say can do. Well, I ain't in the cart, I ain't even -drawing the cart, and I ain't particular pals with the gentleman in the -shafts, so here goes.” - -And the result justified the opinion of both. We did get down, but it -seemed to me a mighty narrow squeak, and I was breathless at the thought -that the experience must be repeated in the course of the next hour or -so. At first I was so terrified I decided I would walk, then I found -it took me so long--one mountain pass finished off a pair of boots--and -there were so many of them I decided I had better put my faith in -the mules if I did not wish to delay the outfit and arrive at Jehol -barefoot. But I never went up and down those passes without bated breath -and a vow that never, never again would I trust myself in the mountains -in a Peking cart. Still I grew to have infinite faith in the Peking -cart. I was bruised and sore all over, and I found the new nightgowns -and chemises in my box were worn into holes with the jolting, but -I believed a Peking cart could go anywhere, and then my confidence -received a rude shock. - -We came to a stony place, steep and stony enough in all conscience, but -as nothing to some of the places we had passed over, where there had -been a precipice on one side and a steep cliff on the other, and where -to go over would certainly have spelled grave disaster, but here there -was a bank at either side and the fawn-coloured mule never even looked -round before negotiating it. Up, up went one side of the cart, but I was -accustomed to that by this time, up, up, the angle grew perilous, and -then over we went, and I was in the tilt of the cart, almost on my head, -and the brown mule in the shafts seemed trying to get into the cart -backwards. I didn't see how he could, but I have unlimited faith in -the powers of a Chinese mule, so, amidst wild yells from Tuan and the -carters, I was out on to the hillside before I had time to think, and -presently was watching those mules make hay of my possessions. -They didn't leave a single thing either in or on that cart, camera, -typewriter, cushions, dressing-bag, bedding, all shot out on to what the -Chinaman is pleased to consider the road, even the heavy box, roped on -behind, got loose and fell off, and the mule justified my expectations -by, in some mysterious way, breaking the woodwork at the top of the -cart and tearing all the blue tilt away. It took us over an hour to get -things right again, and my faith in the stability of a Peking cart was -gone for ever. - -[Illustration: 0332] - -We were right in the very heart of the mountains now, and the scenery -was magnificent, close at hand hills, sterile and stony, and behind -them range after range of other blue hills fading away into the bluer -distance. Day after day I looked upon a scene that would be magnificent -in any land, and here in China filled me with wonder. Could this be -China, practical, prosaic China, China of the ages, {232}this beautiful -land? And always above me was the blue sky, always the golden sunshine -and the invigorating, dry air that reminded me, as I have never before -been reminded, of Australia. - -But, however desolate and sterile the hills, and they seldom had more -than an occasional fir-tree upon them, in the valleys were always people -and evidences of their handiwork in the shape of wonderfully tilled -fields. There are no fences, the Chinaman does not waste his precious -ground in fences, but between the carefully driven furrows there is -never a weed, and all day long the people are engaged turning over -the ground so that it will not cake, and may benefit by every drop of -moisture that may be extracted from the atmosphere. A little snow in -the winter, a shower or two in April, and the summer rains in July or -August, are all this fruitful land requires for a bountiful harvest, but -I am bound to say it is fruitful only because of the intense care that -is given to it. No one surely but a Chinese peasant would work as these -people work. In every valley bottom there is, according to its size, a -town, perhaps built of stones with thatched roofs, a small hamlet, or -at least a farmhouse, enclosed either behind a neat mud wall or a more -picturesque one of the yellow stalks of the kaoliang. And the people are -everywhere, in the very loneliest places far up on the hills I would see -a spot of blue herding black goats or swine, and on parts of the road -far away from any habitation, when I began to think I had really got -beyond even the ubiquitous Chinaman, we would meet a forlorn, ragged -figure, an old man past other work or a small boy with a bamboo across -his shoulders and slung {233}from it two dirty baskets. With scoop in -hand he was gathering the droppings of the animals with which to make -argol for fuel, for enough wood is not to be had, and in this respect so -industrious are the Chinese that their roads are really the cleanest I -have ever seen. - -There were strangely enough here, in the heart of the mountains, signs -of foreign enterprise, for however desolate the place might seem, sooner -or later we were sure to come across the advertisements of the British -American Tobacco Company. There they would be in a row great placards -advertising Rooster Cigarettes, or Peacock Cigarettes or Purple Mountain -Cigarettes, half a dozen pictures, and then one upside down to attract -attention. I never saw the men who put them there, and I hate the -blatant advertisement that spoils the scenery as a rule. Here I greeted -them with a distinct thrill of pleasure. Here were men of my race and -colour, doing pioneering work in the out-of-the-way corners of the -earth, and I metaphorically made them a curtsy and wished them well, for -no one knows better than I do the lonely lives they lead. But they are -bringing China in touch with the outside world. - -By and by we came to a place where carts were not seen, the people were -wiser than I, but there was a constant stream of laden mules and donkeys -bringing grain inside the wall. Long before I could see them I could -hear the jingling of the collar of bells most of them wore, and in an -inn yard we always met the train and saw them start out before us in the -morning, though we were early enough, I saw to that, often have I had -my breakfast before five o'clock, or coming in after we did in the -{234}dusk of the evening. I objected to travelling in the dusk. I felt -the roads held pitfalls enough without adding darkness to our other -difficulties. - -The inns grew poorer and poorer as we got deeper into the mountains but -always I found in those inn yards something interesting to look at. By -night I was too weary to do anything but go to bed, but I generally had -my tiffin in a shady spot in a corner of the yard and watched all -that was going on. The yard would be crowded with animals, mules, and -donkeys, and always there were people coming and going, who thought the -foreign woman was a sight not to be missed. There have been missionaries -here or in Chihli for the last hundred years, so they must have seen -foreign women, but the sight cannot be a common one judging by the way -they stared. There would be well-to-do Chinamen riding nice-looking -donkeys, still more prosperous ones borne in litters by a couple of -protesting mules, and in every corner of the yard would be beasts -eating. And all these beasts of burden required numerous helpers, and -the hangers-on were the most dilapidated specimens of humanity I have -ever seen, not nearly so sure of a meal, I'm afraid, as the pigs and -hens that wandered round scavenging. There would be an occasional old -woman and very, very seldom a young one with large feet marking her as -belonging to the very poorest class, but mostly they were men dressed in -blue cotton, faded, torn, ragged, and yet patched beyond recognition. - -“Patch beside patch is neighbourly,” says an old saw, “but patch upon -patch is beggarly.” The poor folks in the inn yards not only had patch -upon patch, but even the last patches were torn, and they {235}looked -far more poverty-stricken than the children who played about this -pleasant weather wearing only their birthday dress. But they all had -something to do. An old man whose bald head must have required little -shaving and whose weedy queue was hardly worth plaiting, drew water from -the well, another who had adopted the modern style of dressing the hair -gathered up the droppings of the animals, a small boy with wild hair -that no one had time to attend to, and clad in a sort of fringe of -rags, drove away the hideous black sow and her numerous litter when she -threatened to become a nuisance, and from earliest dawn to dark there -were men cutting chaff. The point of a huge knife was fixed in the end -of a wooden groove, one man pushed the fodder into its position and -another lifted the knife by its wooden handle and brought it down with -all his strength. Then he lifted it, and the process was repeated. I -have seen men at work thus, in the morning before it was light enough to -see, I have seen them at it when the dusk was falling. There do not seem -to be any recognised hours for stopping work in China. And all the -heads of these people were wild. If they wore a queue it was dirty and -unplaited, and the shaven part of their heads had a week's growth of -bristles, and if they were more modern in their hair-dressing, their -wild black hair stuck out all over the place and looked as if it had -originally been cut by the simple process of sticking a basin on the -head and clipping all the hairs that stood out round it. But untidy -heads of hair are not peculiar to the inn yard, they are common enough -wherever I have been in China. There were always innumerable children in -the yard, too, with heads {236}shaven all but little tails of hair here -and there, which, being plaited stiffly, stood out like the headgear of -a clown, and there were cart men and donkey men, just peasants in blue, -with their blouses girt round their waists. There were the guests, too, -petticoated Chinese gentlemen, squires, or merchants, or well-to-do -farmers, standing in the doorways looking on, and occasionally ladies, -dressed in the gayest colours, with their faces powdered and painted, -peeped shyly out, half secretively, as if they were ashamed, but felt -they must take one look at the foreign woman who walked about as if she -were not ashamed of the open daylight, and was quite capable of managing -for herself. Sometimes I was taken to the women's quarters, where the -women-folk of the innkeeper dwelt, and there, seated on a k'ang, in a -room that had never been aired since it was built, I would find feminine -things of all ages, from the half-grown girl, who in England would have -been playing hockey, to the old great grandmother who was nursing the -cat. They always offered me tea, and I always took it, and they always -examined my dress, scornfully I am afraid, because it was only of -cotton, and wanted to lay their fingers in the waves of my hair, only I -drew the line at those dirty hands coming close to my face. At first it -all seemed strange, but in a day I felt as if I had been staying in just -such inns all my life. The farther one wanders I find the sooner does -novelty wear off. As a little girl, to go fifty miles from my home and -to have my meals off a different-patterned china gave me a delightful -sense of novelty, and to sleep in a strange bed kept me awake all night. -Now in an hour--oh far less--nothing feels new, not even the courtyard -of a Chinese mountain inn. - -[Illustration: 0340] - -I have never seen so many people with goitres. The missionaries at -Jehol told me it was very much dreaded, and that the people brought the -affliction upon themselves by flying into violent passions. I doubt very -much whether that is the origin of the goitre; but that it is very -much dreaded, I can quite believe. For not only does a goitre look most -unsightly, but the unfortunate possessor must always keep his head very -straight, for if he lets it drop forward, even for a moment, he closes -the air passages, and is in danger of suffocating. I have heard it is -brought on by something in the water. Water, of course, I never dared -drink in China. I saw very pleasant, clear-looking, liquid drawn up -from the wells in those inn courtyards in closely plaited buckets of -basket-work, but I never ventured upon it. I always remembered Aunt -Eliza: - - “In the drinking well - - Which the plumber built her, - - Aunt Eliza fell. - - We must buy a filter.” - -Aunt Eliza's cheerful, if somewhat callous, legatees had some place -where they could buy a filter, I had not, besides, I am sure, all the -filters in the world could not make safe water drawn from a well in a -Chinese inn yard, so I drank tea, which necessitates the water being -boiled. - -The Chinese build their wells with the expectation of someone, not -necessarily Aunt Eliza, coming to grief in them. On one occasion a man -of my acquaintance was ordering a well to be made in his yard, and -he instructed the well-sinker that he need {288}not make it, as the -majority of Chinese wells are made, much wider at the bottom than at the -top. But the workman shook his head. - -He must make it, he said, wide enough at the bottom for a man--or woman, -they are the greatest offenders--to turn round if he flung himself in. -He might change his mind and want to get out again, and if a body were -found in a well not roomy enough to allow of this change of mind, he, -the builder, would be tried for murder. - -This thoughtful consideration for the would-be suicide, who might wish -to repent, is truly Chinese. Personally I doubt very much whether anyone -would take the trouble to investigate the bottom of a well. There might -easily be something very much worse than Aunt Eliza in it. Presumably -she was a well-to-do, and therefore a clean old lady, while the -frequenters of those yards were beyond description. - -The people in the little towns, and more especially those in the lonely -farm-houses which looked so neat and well-kept in contrast with the -ragged, dirty objects that came out of them, kept a most handsome breed -of dogs. Sometimes they were black and white, or grey, but more often -they were a beautiful tawny colour. They were, apparently, of the same -breed as the _wonks_ that infest all Chinese towns, but there was the -same difference between these dogs and the _wonks_ as there is between -a miserable, mangy mongrel and the pampered beast that takes first prize -at a great show. Indeed, I should like to see these great mountain -dogs at a show, I imagine they would be hard to beat. They looked very -fierce, whether they are or not I don't know, because I always gave them -a wide berth, and {239}Tuan, the cautious, always shook his head when -one came too close, called to someone else with a stick to drive it -away, and murmured his usual formula: “Must take care.” They told me -there were wolves among these mountains, and I can quite believe it, -though I never saw one. In the dead of winter they are fierce and -dangerous, and much dreaded. They come into the villages, steal the -helpless children, will make a snap at a man in passing and inflict -terrible wounds. A Chinaman will go to sleep in all sorts of -uncomfortable spots, and more than one has been wakened by having -half the side of his face torn away. Of such a wound as this the man -generally dies, but so many are seen who have so suffered, and gruesome -sights they are, that the wolves must be fairly numerous and exceedingly -bold. They take the children, too, long before the winter has come upon -the land. There was a well-loved child, most precious, the only son of -the only son, and his parents and grandparents being busy harvesting -they left him at home playing happily about the threshold. When they -came back, after a short absence, they found he had been so terribly -mauled by a wolf that shortly after he died, and the home was desolate. -And yet these wolves are very difficult to shoot. - -“I have never seen one,” a man told me. “Again and again, when I was in -the mountains, the villagers would come complaining of the depredations -of a wolf. I could see for myself the results of his visit, but never, -never have I found the wolf. It seems as if they must smell a gun.” - -When first I heard of the wolves I laughed. I was so sure no beast of -prey could live alongside {240}a Chinaman, the Chinaman would want to -eat him. - -“They would if they could catch him,” said my friend, “but they can't, -though the majority of the population are on the look-out for him. There -is nothing of the hunter about the Chinaman.” - -“Meat!” said a wretched farmer once, rubbing his stomach, when the -missionaries fed him during a famine. He couldn't remember when he had -tasted meat, and not in his most prosperous year had he had such a feast -as his saviours had given him then. - -“How much do you make a year?” asked the missionary. - -He thought a little and then he said that, in a good year, he perhaps -made twelve dollars, but then, of course, all years were not good years. -But we, on our part, must remember that these people belong to another -age, and that the purchasing power of the dollar for their wants is -greater than it is with us. - -Very, very lonely it seems to me must these mountain villages be when -the frost of winter holds the hills in its grip, very shut out from the -world were they now in the early summer, and very little could they -know of the life that goes on within the Wall, let alone in other lands. -Indeed there are no other lands for the Chinese of this class, this -is his country, and this suffices for him, everybody else is in outer -barbarism. - -Steeper and steeper grew the hills, more and more toilsome the way, and -the people, when we stopped, looked more and more wonderingly at the -stranger. At one place, where I had tiffin, I shared the room and the -k'ang, the sun was so hot and there was no shade, so I could not stay -outside, with six women {241}of all ages, two had babies that had never -been washed, two had hideous goitres, and all had their hair gathered -into long curved horns at the back. There was also on the floor, a -promising litter of little pigs, and three industrious hens. The women's -blue coats were old, torn, patched, soiled, and yet----oh the pity of -it, these women, who had to work hard for their living, work in the -fields probably, had their feet bound. One had not, but all the rest -were maimed. Two of them had their throats all bruised, and I wondered -if they had been trying to hang themselves as a means of getting away -from a life that had no joy in it, but I afterwards found that with two -coins, or anything else that will serve the purpose, coins are probably -rather scarce, they pinch up the flesh and produce these bruises as a -counter-irritant, and, ugly as it looks, it is often very effective. - -These should have been country people, if ever any people belonged to -the country, and then, as I looked at them, the truth dawned on -me. There are no country people in the China I have seen, as I from -Australia know country people, the men of the bush. They--yes--here in -the mountains, are a people of mean streets, a slum people, decadent, -the very sediment of an age-long civilisation. I said this to a man who -had lived long in China and spoke the language well, and he looked at me -in surprise. - -“Why,” he said, “they all seem to me country people. The ordinary people -of the towns are just country yokels.” - -But we meant exactly the same thing. I looked at the country people I -had known all my life, the capable, resourceful pioneers, facing new -conditions, {242}breaking new ground, ready for any emergency, the men -who, if they could not found a new nation, must perish; he was looking -at the men from sleepy little country villages in the old land, men -who had been left behind in the race. And so we meant exactly the same -thing, though we expressed it in apparently opposing terms. These -people are serfs, struggling from dawn to dark for enough to fill their -stomachs, toiling along a well-worn road, without originality, bound to -the past, with all the go and initiative crushed out of them. As their -fathers went so must they go, the evils that their fathers suffered must -they suffer, and the struggle for a bare existence is so cruelly hard, -that they have no hope of improving themselves. - -It was all interesting, wonderful, but I do not think ever in the world -have I felt so lonely. I longed with an intense longing to see someone -of my own colour, to speak with someone in my own tongue. - -I don't know that I was exactly afraid, and yet sometimes when I -saw things that I did not understand, I wondered what I should do if -anything did happen. Considering the way some people had talked in -Peking, it would have been a little surprising if I had not. Once we -came upon a place where the side of the road was marked with crosses in -whitewash and I wondered. I remembered the stories I had heard of -the last anti-Christian outbreak, and I wondered if those crosses had -anything to do with another. It all sounds very foolish now, but I -remember as cross after cross came into view I was afraid, and at last I -called Tuan and asked him what they meant. - -“Some man,” said he, “give monies mend road, {243}puttee white so can -see where mend it.” And that was all! But what that road was like before -it was mended I cannot imagine! - -At last, after a wearying day's journey of one hundred and twenty li, -or forty miles, over the roughest roads in the world, we came in the -evening sunlight upon a long line of grunting, ragged camels just -outside a great square gate enclosed in heavy masonry, and we were at Pa -Kou, as it is spelt by the wisdom of those who have spelled Chinese, but -it is pronounced Ba Go. It is a city or rather a long street, twenty -li or nearly seven miles long, and the houses were packed as closely -together in that street as they are in London itself. The worst of the -journey, Tuan told me, was over. There was another range of mountains to -cross, we had been going north, now we were to go west, it would take us -two days and we would be in Jehol. - -And here, for the first time, the authorities took notice of me. The -first inn we stopped at was dirty, and Tuan went on a tour of inspection -to see if he could not find one more to his Missie's liking, and I sat -in my cart and watched the crowded throng, and thought that never in my -life had I been so tired--I ached in every limb. If the finding of an -inn had depended on me I should simply have gone to sleep where I was. -At last it was decided there was none better, and into the crowded and -dirty yard we went, and I, as soon as my bed was put up, had my bath and -got into it, as the only clean place there was, besides I was too tired -to eat, and I thought I might as well rest. - -But I had been seen sitting in the street, and the Tutuh of the -town, the Chief Magistrate, sent his {244}secretary to call upon the -“distinguished traveller” and to ask if she, Tuan, who never could -manage the pronouns, reported it as “he,” had a passport. The -“distinguished traveller” apologised for being in bed and unable to see -the great man's secretary, and sent her servant--I noticed he put on his -best clothes, so I suppose he posed as an interpreter--to show she had -a passport all in order. He came back looking very grave and very -important. - -“She say must take care, plenty robber, must have soldier.” - -Here was a dilemma. I had heard so much about the robbers of China, -and the robbers of China are by no means pleasant gentlemen to meet. A -robber band is not an uncommon thing, but is more dangerous probably, to -the people of the land than to the foreigner, for here in the north -the lesson of 1900 has been well rubbed in. It is a dangerous thing to -tackle a foreigner. Dire is the vengeance that is exacted for his life. -Still I wasn't quite comfortable in my own mind. I thought of the mighty -robber White Wolf, who ravaged Honan, of whom even the missionaries and -the British American Tobacco Company are afraid. On one occasion two -missionaries were hunted by his band and driven so close that, as they -lay hidden under a pile of straw, a pursuer stood on the shoulder of -one of them. He lay hardly daring to breathe and the robber moved away -without discovering their hiding-place. Afterwards, however, they did -fall into the hands of White Wolf, who, contrary to their expectations, -courteously fed them and set them on their way. Of course, they had -nothing of which to be despoiled, and it was their good-fortune to fall -into {245}the hands of the leader himself, who knows a little of the -world, and something of the danger of attacking a foreigner. The danger -had been that they might fall into the hands of his men, his ignorant -followers, who, in their zeal, would probably kill them, perhaps with -torture, and report to the chief later on. This happened after I had -been to Jehol, but, of course, I had heard of White Wolf. I knew his -country was farther to the south in the more disturbed zone, and I did -not expect to meet robbers here. Still I had the Tutuh's word for it -that here they were. - -If you are going to have any anxiety in the future, I have come to the -conclusion it is just as well to be dead tired. I couldn't do anything, -and I was utterly tired out. I had been in the open air all day since -five o'clock in the morning, I was safe, in all probability, for the -night, and robbers or no robbers, I felt I might as well have a sound -night's rest and see what the situation looked like in the morning. I -heard afterwards there were missionaries in the town, and had I known -it, I might have sought them out and taken counsel with men of my own -colour, but I did not know it. - -“Must have soldier,” repeated Tuan emphatically, standing beside my camp -bed. “How many soldier Missie want?” - -I had heard too many stories of Chinese soldiers to put much reliance on -them as protectors. I didn't know offhand how many I wanted. I was by no -means sure that I wouldn't be just as safe with the robbers. One thing -was certain, I couldn't go back within two days of my destination, -besides for all I knew, the robbers were behind me. - -I put it to Tuan. {246}“Suppose I have no passport, what the Tutuh do -then?” - -“Then,” said my henchman emphatically, “he no care robber get Missie.” - -Evidently the Tutuh meant well by me, so I said they might send a -soldier for me to look at, at six o'clock next morning and then I would -decide how many I would have, and feeling that at least I had eleven -hours respite, I turned over and went to sleep. - -Punctually the soldier turned up. He was a good-tempered little man, all -in blue a little darker than the ordinary coolie wears, over it he had -a red sleeveless jacket marked with great black Chinese characters, back -and front, a mob cap of blue was upon his head, over his eyes a paper -lampshade; he had a nice little sturdy pony, and, for all arms, a fly -whisk! - -I didn't feel I could really be afraid of him, and I strongly suspected -the robbers would thoroughly agree with me. - -“What's he for?” I asked Tuan. - -That worthy looked very grave. “Must take care,” he replied with due -deliberation. “Plenty robber. She drive away robber. How many soldier -Missie have?” - -Well there was nothing for it but to face the danger, if danger there -was. I don't know now if there was any. It is so difficult to believe -that any unpleasant thing will happen to one. Again I reflected that -there is no danger in China till the danger actually arrives, and then -it is too late. What my guardian was to drive away robbers with I am -sure I don't know, for I cannot see that the fly whisk would have been -very effective. The “cartee men” were perfectly willing to go on, so I -said I thought this warrior would be amply sufficient for all purposes, -and we started. - -[Illustration: 0352] - -Everybody in Pa Kou keeps a lark, I should think, and every one of those -larks were singing joyously as we left the town. Never have I heard such -a chorus of bird song, and the morning was delightful. My guardian -rode ahead, and for three hours as we jolted over the track, I kept -a look-out for robbers, wondered what they would be like, and what -I should do when we met, but the only things I saw were bundles -of brushwood for the kitchen fires of Pa Kou, apparently walking -thitherward on four donkey legs. They reassured me, those bundles of -brushwood, they had such a peaceful look. Somehow I didn't think we were -going to meet any robbers. - -Evidently Tuan and the “cartee men” came to the same conclusion, for, at -the end of three hours, they came and said the soldier must be changed, -did Missie want another? Missie thought she didn't, and the guard was -dismissed, his services being valued at twenty cents. It was plenty, for -he came, with beaming face, and bowed his thanks. - -That was the only time I had anything to do with soldiers on the -journey, and I forgot all about him, hieroglyphics, lampshade, fly -whisk, and all, till I found entered in the accounts, Tuan was a learned -clerk and kept accounts: “Cavalry, twenty cents.” - -Then I felt I had had more than my money's worth. - -The last night of my journey I spent at Liu Kou, the sixth valley, and -the next morning the men made {248}tremendous efforts to hide all -trace of the disaster that had befallen us on the way. I said it didn't -matter, it could wait till we got to Jehol, but both Tuan and the -“cartee men” were of a different opinion. Apparently they would lose -face if they came to their journey's end in such a condition, and I -had to wait while the cloth was taken off the back of the cart, -and carefully put on in front, so that the broken wood was entirely -concealed. Then, when everybody was satisfied that we were making at -least a presentable appearance, we started. You see, I never appreciated -the situation properly. To travel in a cart seemed to me so humble a -mode of progression, that it really did not matter very much whether it -were broken or not, indeed a broken cart seemed more to me like going -the whole hog, and roughing it thoroughly while we were about it. But -with the men it was different, a cart was a most dignified mode of -conveyance, and to enter a big town in a broken one was as bad as -travelling in a motor with all the evidences of a breakdown upon it, due -to careless driving. And when I saw their point of view, of course I -at once sat down on some steps and watched an old man draw water, and a -disgusting-looking sow, who made me forswear bacon, attend to the wants -of her numerous black progeny. - -Tuan passed the time by having a heated argument with the landlord. The -fight waxed furious, as I was afterwards told, regarding the hot water I -had required for my bath, which was heated in a long pipe, like a copper -drain-pipe, that was inserted in a hole by the k'ang fire. Fuel is -scarce, and stern necessity has seen to it that these people get the -{249}most they possibly can out of a fire. I hope Than paid him fairly, -but of course I do not know, I parted with a dollar for the night's -lodging and the little drop of hot water, for otherwise we carried our -own fuel--charcoal--bought our provisions and cooked for ourselves, but -we left that landlord protesting at the gate that he would never put up -another foreigner. - -That last day's journey was, I think, the hardest day of all, or perhaps -it was that I was tired out. There was a long, long mountain to be got -over, the Hung Shih La, the Red Stone Rock, and we crossed it by a pass, -the worst of many mountain passes we had come across. We climbed up -slowly to the top and there was a tablet to the memory of the man who -had repaired the road. What it was like before it was repaired I can't -imagine, or perhaps it was not done very recently, say within a couple -of hundred years, for the road was very bad. There is only room for one -vehicle, and the carters raised their voices in a loud singsong, to warn -all whom it might concern that they were occupying the road. What would -happen if one cart entered at one end and another at the other I am sure -I cannot imagine, for there seemed to be no place that I could see where -they could pass each other, and I think it must be at least three steep -miles long. I did not trust the carts. I walked. My faith in a Peking -cart and mule had gone for ever, and if we had started to roll here, -it seemed to me, we should not have stopped till we reached America or -Siberia at least. So every step of the way I walked, and Tuan would have -insisted that the carts come behind me. But here I put my foot down, -etiquette or no etiquette I insisted they should go in front. I felt -{250}it would be just as bad to be crushed by a falling cart as to be -upset in it, so they went on ahead, and when we met people, and we met -a good many on foot, Tuan called out to them and probably explained that -such was the foolish eccentricity of his Missie that, though she was -rich beyond the dreams of avarice, and always travelled with two carts, -she yet insisted upon walking down all the passes. - -It was worth it too, for the view was glorious, the sunlight, the golden -sunlight of a Chinese afternoon, fell on range after range of softly -rounded hills, the air was so clear that miles and miles away I could -see their folds, with here and there a purple shadow, and here and there -the golden light. And over all was the arc of the blue sky. Beautiful, -most beautiful it was, and I was only regretful that, like so many of -the beautiful things I have seen in life, I looked on it alone. I shall -never look on it again. The journey is too arduous, too difficult, but I -am glad, very glad indeed, that I have seen it once. - -But it was getting late. At the bottom of the pass I got into my cart, -and was driven along a disused mountain torrent that occupied the bed -of the valley under a line of trees just bursting into leaf. The shadows -were long with the coming night, and at last we forded a shallow river -and came into the dusty, dirty town of Cheng Teh Fu, an unwalled town -beyond which is Jehol, the Hunting Palace of the Manchu Emperors. - -Here there were thousands of soldiers, not like my “cavalry,” but -modern, khaki-clad men like those in Peking, gathered together to -go against the Mongols, for China was at war, and apparently was -{251}getting the worst of it, and the air was ringing with bugle calls. - -And then Tuan and I had an argument. He wanted me to go to an inn. The -streets were dusty, dirty, evil-smelling, I was weary to death, my dress -had been rubbed into holes by the jolting of the cart, and my flesh -rebelled at the very thought of a Chinese inn. But what was I to do? -There were no Europeans in Jehol save the missionaries, and I was so -very sure it was wasted labour to try and convert the Chinese it seemed -unfair to go to the mission station. - -And then I suddenly felt I must speak to someone, must hear my own -tongue again, must be sympathised with, by a woman if possible, and in -spite of the protests of Tuan who saw all chance of squeeze at an end, I -made them turn the mules' heads to the mission. - -There a sad, sweet-faced woman gave me, a total stranger, the kindest -and warmest of welcomes, and I paid off the “cartee men.” For sixty -dollars they had brought me two hundred and eighty miles, mostly across -the mountains, they had been honest, hard-working, attentive, patient, -and good-tempered, and for a _cumshaw_ of five dollars they bowed -themselves to the ground. I know they got it, because I took the -precaution to pay them myself, and as I watched them go away down -the street I made a solemn vow that never again would I travel in the -mountains, and never, never again would I submit myself to the tender -mercies of a Peking cart. It is one of the things I am glad I have done, -but I am glad also it is behind me with no necessity to do again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV--TO THE GREEKS, FOOLISHNESS - -{252} - -_Missionary compound--Prayer--Reputed dangers of the way--The German -girl--Midwife--The Bible as a guide--“My yoke is easy, My burden -is light”--A harem--Helping the sick and afflicted--A case of -hysteria--Drastic remedies--Ensuring a livelihood--“Strike, -strike”--Barbaric war-song--The Chinese soldier--The martyrdom of the -Roman Catholic priest._ - -|And with my entrance into that missionary compound I entered a world as -strange to me as the Eastern world I had come across two continents to -see. - -The compound is right in the heart of the town, and was originally -a Chinese inn, built, in spite of the rigour of the climate, Chinese -fashion, so that to go from one room to the other it was necessary to go -out of doors. The walls looking on to the street were blank, except in -the room I occupied, where was a small window, so high up I could not -see out of it. How it must be to pass from one room to the other when -the bitter winter of Northern China holds the mountains in its grip, I -do not know. - -I walked in out of the unknown and there came forward to meet me that -sad-looking woman with the soft brown eyes and bright red lips. Take -me in, yes, indeed she would take me in. I was dusty, I was torn, and -I think I was more weary than I {253}have ever been in my life, and she -made me welcome, made me lie down in a long chair, and had tea brought -in. A tall buxom German girl entered, and then to my surprise, and not -a little to my discomfort, my hostess bowed her head, and thanked God -openly that I had come through the dangers of the way, and been brought -safely to their compound! For a moment it took my breath away, and so -self-conscious was I, that I did not know which way to look. My father -was a pillar of the Church of England, Chancellor of the Diocese in -which we lived, and I had been brought up straitly in the fold, among -a people who, possibly, felt deeply on occasion, but who never, never -would have dreamt of applying religion personally and openly to each -other. Frankly I felt very uncomfortable after I had been prayed over, -and it seemed a sort of bathos to go on calmly drinking tea and eating -bread and jam. The German girl had just arrived, and they heard that the -day after she had left Peking, the German Consul had sent round to the -mission station, where she had been staying, to cancel her passport, and -to say that on no account must she go to Jehol as the country was too -disturbed. However she and her escort, one of the missionaries, had come -through quite safely, and the Tartar General in charge here had said she -might stay so long as she did not go outside the boundaries of the town. -But naturally, they were much surprised to see me, a woman and alone. - -I looked round the room, the general sitting-room, a bare stone-floored -room, with a mat or two upon it, a little cane furniture, a photograph -or two, and some texts upon the walls, a harmonium, a {254}couple of -tables, and a book-case containing some very old-fashioned books, mostly -of a religious tendency, and some stories by A.L.O.E. There was a time -when I thought A.L.O.E's stories wonderful, and so I read one or two of -them while I was here, and wondered what it was that had charmed me when -I was eleven. - -The only other woman in that compound, beside my hostess, was the German -girl who had come out to help. - -“I gave myself to the Lord for China,” she said, and she spoke simply -and quietly, as if she were saying the most natural thing in the world, -as if there could be no doubt of the value of the gift--truly it was -her all, she could not give more. And the Chinese did need her, I -think--that is only my opinion--but not exactly in the way she counted -most important. She had taken the precaution to become a midwife, and -indeed she must be a godsend, for Chinese practices are crude and cruel -in the extreme. It is the child that counts, the mother, even in her -hour of travail, must literally make no moan. A woman once told me how -she went to see her amah, who was expecting a baby, and she was asked to -wait. She waited about an hour, for she was anxious about the woman, and -the room was very still, there was no sound till the silence was broken -by the first cry of the new-born infant. The child had been born behind -the screen while she waited, and an hour later, to her horror, the -white-faced young mother was up and preparing to cook the family evening -meal. The woman would not have cried out for the world. No Chinese woman -would. If poor human flesh is weak, and a {255}sigh of pain escape her, -her mother-in-law will cover her mouth with her hand, but mostly the -woman will gag herself with her long black hair, she will not disgrace -herself by a cry as long as her senses are with her. It is all very well -to say the Chinese do not suffer as white women suffer. They are not -like the sturdy negro women who have lived a primitive, open-air life, -walk like queens, and have exercised every muscle. They are the crippled -products of an effete civilisation, who spend long hours on the k'ang, -and go as little as possible from their own compound. To those women -that German girl will be a blessing untold. I think of their bodies -while she labours for their souls. Anyway she is surely sent by God. - -There were two men here to make up the complement, one was my -missionary's husband, a man who takes the Bible for his guide in -everything, the Bible as it is translated into the English tongue. He -does not read primarily for the beauty of the language, for the rhythm, -for the poetry, for the Eastern glamour that is over all. He reads -it, he would tell you himself, for the truth. It is to him the most -important thing in the world; he quotes it, he lives by it, it is never -out of his thoughts, he might be a Covenanter of old Puritan days. And -the fourth missionary is a man of the world. I don't think he realises -it himself, but he is. He had lived there many years, had married a -wife and brought up children there, and now had sent them home to be -educated, and he himself talked, not of the Bible, though I doubt not -he is just as keen as the other, but of the people, and their manner -of life, and their customs, of the country, and of the strangers he had -{256}met, the changes he had seen, and, when I questioned him, of the -escape of himself and his family from the Boxers. - -For the souls and bodies of these wretched, miserable, uncomprehending -Chinese, who very likely, at the bottom of their hearts, pity the -strangers because they were not born in the Flowery Land, these devoted -people work--work and pray--day and night. The result is not great. - -“They will not hear the truth. Their eyes are blind. They worship -idols,” they told me of the majority. But they give kindliness, and in -all probability, for it is seldom that faithful, honest kindliness fails -in its purpose, they make a greater impression than they or I realise. - -True they believe firmly in the old Hebrew idea of a “jealous God,” but -they themselves are more tender than the God they preach. For all of -them, it seemed to me, life is hard, unless they have greater joy in the -service than I, “a Greek” could understand, but for the older woman it -must be hardest of all. - -“My yoke is easy, My burden is light,” said the Master she followed, but -the burden of this woman, away up in the mountains of Northern China, is -by no means light. The community is so small, they do not belong to the -China Inland Mission but call themselves “The Brethren,” the nearest -white man is two days away hard travelling across the mountains, so that -perforce the life is lonely. Day in and day out they must live here for -seven years among an alien people; a people who come to them for aid and -yet despise them. And because they would put no more stumbling-blocks -in the way of {257}bringing the Chinese to listen to the message they -bring, these missionaries conform, as much as they can, to Chinese -custom. Very seldom does this woman walk abroad with her husband--it -would not be the thing--women and men do not walk together in China. -If she goes outside the missionary compound she must be accompanied -by another woman, and she puts on some loose coat, because the Chinese -would be shocked at any suggestion of the outline of a figure. Also she -looks neither to the right nor the left, and does not appear to notice -anything, because a well-behaved woman in China never looks about -her. She considers, too, very carefully her goings, she would not -walk through the town at the hour when the men are going about their -business, the hour that I found the most interesting, and invariably -chose, no boy may bring her tea to her bedroom--it would not be -right--and she has none of the arrogance of the higher race who think -what they do must be right and expect the natives of the land to fall -into line. No, she conforms, always conforms to the uncomfortable -customs of the Chinese, and when any man above the rank of the poorest -comes to call upon her husband, she and the girl are hustled out of the -way and are as invisible as if he kept a harem. It often occurred to -me that the Chinese thought he did. Even in the church the women are -screened off from the men, and if a man adheres to the customs of the -country so closely in everything they can see, it is natural to suppose -they will give him credit for adhering to them in all things. But they -must think, at least, he has selected his womenkind with a view to their -welfare, for the older woman has had {258}a little medical training, and -simple cases of sickness she can deal with, while the German girl, as -I have said, is a certified midwife. The other man too, though not a -doctor, has some little knowledge of the more simple eye diseases. - -And they are grateful, the poor Chinese, for the sympathy they get from -these kindly missionaries, who openly say they tend their poor bodies -because they feel that so only can they get at their souls. They come to -the little dispensary in crowds, come twenty miles over the mountains, -and they bring there the diseases of a slum people, coughs and colds, -pleurisy and pneumonia, internal complaints and the diseases of -filth--here in the clean mountains--itch and the like. Many have bad -eyes, many granulated lids, and there is many a case of hideous goitre. -While I was there a man, old and poor, tramped one hundred miles across -the mountains; he was blind, with frightfully granulated lids, and he -had heard of the skill of the missionaries. There are also well-to-do -people here, who sometimes seek aid from them, though as a rule, it is -the lower class they come in contact with. - -But the ailments of the rich are different, I remember my missionary -woman was called in to see a girl about twenty, the daughter of a -high-class Manchu. The girl had hiccough. It came on regularly about -four o'clock every afternoon, and continued, if I remember rightly, -three or four hours. She was well and strong, she had everything the -heart of a Chinese woman could desire, she was never required to do one -stroke of work, but she was not married. The Manchus have fallen on evil -times and find some difficulty in marrying their {259}daughters. So this -girl, the daughter of well-to-do people, was necessary to no one, not -even to herself, and the missionary, finding she spent the greater -part of her time lying idly upon the k'ang, diagnosed hysteria, and -prescribed a good brisk walk every day. The proud Manchu, who was her -mother, looked at the woman she had called in to help her, scornfully. - -“My daughter,” she said drawing herself up to her full height, and the -Manchus are tall women, “cannot walk in the street. It would not be -seemly.” - -The missionary looked at her a little troubled. - -“At least,” she said, “she can walk in the courtyard and play with her -brother's children.” - -But the girl looked at her with weary eyes. There was no excitement in -playing with her brother's, children, and she could not see the good to -be got out of walking aimlessly round the courtyard. Poor Manchu maid! -What had she expected? - -“If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have -done it?” - -“I could do no good,” said the missionary sorrowfully, “and they would -not listen to my message.” - -The Chinese have their own remedies for many diseases, and some of them -the missionaries told me were good, but many were too drastic, and many -were wickedly dangerous. When an eye is red and bloodshot for instance, -they will break a piece of crockery and pierce the eye with it, and in -all probability the unfortunate loses his sight. No wonder they come -miles and miles, however rough the way, to submit themselves to gentler -treatment. I have known even women with bound feet toil twenty miles -{260}to see them about some ailment. Of course their feet are not as -badly bound as some, for there are many women in China who cannot walk -at all. I talked with a man once who told me he had just been called -upon to congratulate a man because he had married a wife who could not -get across the room by herself. She, naturally, was a lady with slaves -to wait upon her. These Chinese women of the mountains of the poorer -classes--the Manchus do not bind their feet--must be able to move about -a little, for there is a certain amount of work they must do. - -“A hundred thousand medical missionaries,” said this man, “are wanted in -China, for the teeming population suffers from its ignorance, it suffers -because it is packed so tightly together; the women suffer from the -custom that presses so heavily, and it suffers from its own dirt.” - -Up here at Jehol the suffering is apparently as bad as anywhere, and -the dispensary is full with all the minor ailments that come within the -range of the missionaries' simple skill, and all the cruel diseases that -are quite beyond them, that they cannot touch, and they do their best -in all pity and love, and yet think that they are doing a greater thing -than binding up a man's wounds when they can induce him to come to their -prayer-meetings, which go along, side by side, with the dispensary. - -I, a heathen and a “Greek,” question whether the Chinese ever receives -Christianity. A Chinese gentleman, a graduate of Cambridge, once told me -he did not think he ever did. - -“But the Chinaman,” said he, he actually used the contemned word, “is -a practical man, he receives all faiths. Some may be right, and when -he thinks {261}he is dying, he will send for a priest of every faith he -knows of to help him across the dark river. Who knows, some of them may -chance to be right,” and he laughed. He himself was of the faith so many -of us of this modern world have attained to, seeing the good in so many -faiths, seeing the beauty and the pity of them and standing aside and -crying: “Why all this? Whither are we bound? What can it matter whether -this poor coolie believes in Christ, or Buddha, or the cold ethics of -Confucius?” I said this to my missionary woman one day and she looked at -me with horror in her eyes. - -“There will be a reaping some day,” she said. “Where will you be then?” - -“Surely I cannot be blamed for using the reasoning powers God has -given.” But I am sure she thought my reasoning powers came from the -devil, and if I hadn't been getting used to it I should have been made -uncomfortable by being prayed for as one in outer darkness. - -It is the worship of the ancestors that holds the Chinese, the man -who gives up that, gives up all family ties and becomes practically an -outcast. There may be a few genuine Christians, but in proportion to the -money spent upon their conversion, their number must be very small. I -saw the colporteur come into the compound one day, and they told me he -was an earnest Christian. He might be, but again that doubt arose in my -mind. If the receiving of Christianity ensures a livelihood, could you -expect one of a nation, who will be made a eunuch for the same reason, -to reject it. - -The missionaries had a hard time when first they came here. The place -is inhabited by Manchus, {262}full of the pride of race, and they do not -want the outsider. They use them, as they have effected a settlement, -but they do not approve of their being there. - -As I and my saintly missionary walked down the street, she carefully -avoiding a glance either to the right or the left, a little half-naked -child at his mother's side looked at her and cried aloud: - -“Ta, ta,” and he said it vehemently again and again. - -She stopped, spoke to the mother, and evidently remonstrated, and -the woman laughed and passed along on her high Manchu shoes without -correcting the child. - -She looked troubled. “What did he say?” I asked. - -“Strike, strike! or some people might say 'kill, kill!' I said to the -woman: 'What bad manners is this?'” - -And the woman had only laughed! After all her kindness and tenderness, -all her consideration and care; I should have thought the very children -would have worshipped the ground she walked upon. - -They are holding their own, they say. In the compound are a couple of -Chinese women, the wives of their teachers or servants, and they have -had to unbind their feet, a process almost as painful as the binding. -One old woman could not unbind hers, they told me, because so long had -they been bound the feet split when she attempted to walk upon them -unbound, but so true a Christian is she, she puts her tiny feet inside -big shoes. But to balance her, their amah, a Manchu, is still a heathen. -After the years, the years they had been striving there, they could not -find one who has embraced their faith to wait upon them. - -[Illustration: 0370] - -In truth it was a hard faith, morning, noon, and night, they prayed, -morning, noon, and night, it seemed to me from the little meeting-house -went up the sound of hymns and prayers, not even in Christian England, -England that has held the faith for over a thousand years would so many -services have been attended, could they expect it of the Chinese? - -In the evening, when the night fell, we sat in the compound and talked, -I, who was cold and reasonable, and they who were enthusiasts, for to -them had come the call, that mysterious crying for the unknown that -comes to all peoples and all classes, and is called by such different -names. - -“I have given myself to the Lord for China.” And outside the house -the watchman beat his gong, not to frighten off thieves, as I at first -thought, but to keep away the devils who help the “stealer man,” for he -cannot alone carry out his nefarious designs, the _wonks_, the scavenger -dogs made the night hideous by their howling, and the soldiers, of whom -the town was full, sang their new war-song--wild and barbaric. - -“I do not like it,” said she of the sad eyes and red lips, “I do not -like it. It does not sound true.” - -And I, who had not got to live there, did not like it either, but it was -because it did sound to me true--it sounded fierce and merciless. What -might not men, who sang like that, do? - -“The Chinese soldier is a baby,” said a Chinese {264}to me, but that is -when he is among his own particular people at home. - -“Chinese soldiers,” said another man, a foreigner, “are always robbers -and banditti.” - -And there is truth in that last statement, possibly there is truth -in both, for children, unguided and unbridled, with the strength and -passions of men, are dangerous to let loose upon a community. - -We are beginning to look upon China as a land at peace. We talk about -her “bloodless revolution,” yet even as I write these words I see, -sitting opposite to me, my friend who was one of the rescue-party, -the gallant nine, who rode post-haste to Hsi An Fu to rescue the -missionaries cut off by the tide of the revolution, and I know the peace -of China is not as the peace of a Western land. - -Hsi An Fu is situated in Shensi, roughly, about a fortnight's journey -from the nearest railway, with walls that rival those of Peking, and -like Peking, with a Manchu City walled off inside those walls. There on -the 22nd October, 1911, the Revolutionaries, the apostles of progress, -shut fast the gates of the inner city and butchered the Manchus within -the walls. From house to house they went, and slew them all, old women -on the brink of the grave and the tiny infant smiling in its mother's -arms. Not one was spared. No cries for mercy were listened to. “Kill, -kill!” was the cry that bright autumn Sunday; men, women, and children -were slain, the streets ran with their blood, the reek of slaughter went -up to heaven, and the Manchus were exterminated. - -The movement was not anti-foreign, but the plight of the missionaries -well illustrates the danger every {265}foreigner faces in China. The -bulk of the people are peaceful. Nowhere in the world, I suppose, is a -more peaceful person to be found than the average Chinese peasant. He -asks only to be let alone, but, unfortunately, he is not let alone. -His rulers “squeeze” and oppress him, bands of robbers take toll of his -pittance, and when an unpaid soldiery is let loose upon him, his plight -is pitiable. It is certainly understandable, if not pardonable, that he -in his turn, takes to pillage, and pillage leads to murder. He is only -a puppet in the hands of others. One man alone may be kindly enough but -the man who is one of a mob, is swayed by the passions of that mob, or -the passions of its leader. So it was at Hsi An Fu. Party feeling ran -high. There were really three parties, the Manchus, the Revolutionaries, -and the Secret Society, the Elder Brother Society, who are always -anti-foreign and who, here in Hsi An Fu, for whatever purpose they might -originally have banded themselves together, were virtually a band of -robbers, mainly intent on filling their own pockets. The Revolutionaries -declared that the foreigners should be protected, but--and again the -menace of China to the white man is felt--in the rush and tumult of the -battle, many of their followers did not realise this. This was the time -to wreak private vengeance, and it was fiercely taken advantage of. -When thousands of helpless people, closer akin to the slayers than the -foreigners, were being given pitilessly to the sword, who was likely to -take much account of a handful of missionaries. - -There was outside the city in the south suburb a small school for the -teaching of the Swedish missionaries' children, and the head of that -school had, {266}some little time before, had a camera stolen. He -reported it to the police, and being dissatisfied with the lax way the -man at the head of the district took the matter up, went to his superior -officer. Now in these disturbed times, the man who had “lost face” saw -his way to vengeance, and, being in sympathy with the Revolutionaries, -and knowing the exact hour of the outbreak, he ordered the villagers -round the south suburb, every family, to send at least one man to -help exterminate the foreigners. “It was an order,” and the villagers -responded. The school was the first place attacked, for not only did -this man seek vengeance, but the humble possessions of the missionaries -seemed to the poorer Chinese to be wealth well worth looting. Therefore -that Sunday at midnight a mob attacked the school premises. The -missionaries, Mr and Mrs Beckman and Mr Watne, the tutor, were helpless -before the crowd, and hid in a tool-house, but they were discovered and -ran out, making for a high wall that surrounded the compound. Mr Watne -got astride of this and handed over Mr Beckman's eldest daughter, a tall -girl of twelve, but, before he could get the other children, the crowd -rushed them, and he was tumbled over the wall, making his escape with -the girl to another village some way off while the mob swept over the -rest, scattering them far and wide. Mr Beckman, a particularly tall, -stalwart man, considerably over six feet high, had his youngest child, a -baby, in his arms, and the people gave way before him, closing in on -the unfortunates who were following. It is impossible for an outsider to -tell the tale of that massacre, for massacre it was, the people falling -upon and doing to death the unfortunate woman and the children who were -clustering round her. The darkness was filled with the fierce shouts of -the murderers, and every now and again they were broken in upon by the -terrified wail of a child butchered with none to help. - -“Ta, ta,” cried the people, and they struck mercilessly, with spades and -reaping hooks and knives, the weak and helpless, and dodged out of the -way of the great, strong man who could fight a little for his life and -the lives of those dear to him. - -The woman and the children were slain and at last he was hunted, with -the little girl still in his arms, into a deep pond of water outside the -suburb. The mite was only three years old, and the distracted father, -wild with anxiety for his wife and other children, had to soothe the -little one and exhort her to be quiet and not to cry, for the pursuers -were lighting fires round the pond to find them. They lighted three, and -the fires probably defeated their own end, for the fugitive managed -to keep out of the glare, and the leaping flames deepened the darkness -around. The baby sheltered in her father's arms, and in spite of the -cold, never even whimpered, and the water was so deep the mob dared -not venture in. Only a man of extraordinary height could have so saved -himself. Hour after hour of the bitter cold autumn night passed and the -mob dispersed a little. The lust for killing was not so great in -the keen Hours of the early morning. Then the first silver streaks, -heralding the rising of the moon, appeared in the eastern sky and the -distracted man made his way softly to a bank at one side, and reaching -up, again only a tall man could have done it, laid his little girl -there. But the child who had been so good in the icy water while she was -against his breast began to fret when the keen morning air blew through -her sodden clothes and she could not feel her father's arms round her, -and he had to take her back and soothe her. But at last he persuaded -her to lie still till he got softly out of the water, and crept round to -her. He was not followed, the pursuit was slackening more and more, -and, keeping in the shadows, he made his way to the missionaries in -the western suburb. He thought that all but he and his little girl -had perished, and sad to say they did not know of the two who were -sheltering in a village some miles away in the country. Here, nearly -twelve hours later, the pursuers sought them out and stoned them to -death. - -Meanwhile rumours of what was happening in the southern suburb reached -the missionaries in the eastern suburb, and they, taking counsel with -their native helpers, divided themselves into three parties, and set -out to take refuge in some more distant villages where the people were -reputed Christians. They had gone but a little way, when the carts of -two of the parties were overtaken by a mob, who handled them somewhat -roughly, took all their humble possessions, and drove them back. - -“Kill, kill!” cried the pointing people, as the little helpless company, -escorted by the shouting, threatening mob passed, and even those who did -not directly threaten, seemed to have no hope. - -“They go to their deaths,” they said, looking at them curiously as men -look upon other men about to die. - -The missionaries themselves had small hope of their lives. When they -reached the first mission-{269}house they were roughly thrust into a -room and there guarded, and they only wondered why death did not come -swiftly and cut short the agony of waiting. - -The third party that set out from that suburb consisted of the Rev. -Donald Smith, his wife, and some schoolgirls they were escorting back to -their homes, as he considered, in these troublous times, they would be -safer with their own people than in the mission school. They went due -east, and had not gone three miles when they were set upon. The girls -fled in all directions, but the attackers only molested the foreigner -and his wife. He endeavoured to defend her, but they beat him so -severely that both his arms were broken, and they were both left for -dead by the wayside. Here they were found by some friendly, kindly -villagers--the average Chinaman is kindly--who, when the roughs were -gone, came to their rescue, and took them back to the eastern suburb, -where the other missionaries had spent a terrible two hours, momentarily -expecting the mob to rush in and kill them. - -But the Chinese are a cautious people, curious in their respect for -precedent. What was to be done with these foreigners. Sometimes the -foreigners had been slain, but then again, quite as often, they had been -guarded and kept safely. There was no getting into the city. The gates -were fast locked and were kept shut for days, but someone--very probably -a well-wisher to the missionaries--went to the wall and shouted up to -know what was the order about foreigners? Were they to kill them or -were they to protect them? Back came the response, the order was, the -foreigners were to be protected, and when word of this was brought back -to the mission station, they were not only released, but the property -of which they had been robbed was returned to them. For those who had -looted kept it intact till they saw which way the wind blew. - -And by the time the city gates were opened and order was restored, -it was understood, by the proclamation of the New Republic, that all -foreigners were to be protected. - -But the case of the missionaries in Hsi An Fu graphically illustrates -the dangers every foreigner, missionary, or the missionary's _bête -noire_, the ubiquitous cigarette-selling British American Tobacco man, -runs in China, where the civilisation, the long-established civilisation -is that of Nineveh or Babylon, or ancient Egypt. Not that the foreigner -runs any greater risk than the native of the country, sometimes he runs -less, because, even into the far interior, a glimmering of the vengeance -the Christian nations take for their martyred brothers has penetrated; -but life in China is, as it was in Nineveh or Babylon, not nearly as -sacred as it is in the West. The life of a poor man, one of the luckless -proletariat, is of small account to anyone. A disbanded and unpaid -soldiery are for ever a menace, and the difference between the -disciplined soldier and the unlicensed bandit is very, very small. One -week a regiment of soldiers clamouring for their pay, the next a band of -robbers hiding in the hills, their methods ruthless, for their hand is -against every man's and every man's hand is against them. They live by -the sword, as they perish by the sword, and when the tide of lawlessness -reaches a certain height, white man and yellow alike suffer, but we -take count only of the sufferings of our own people. {271}Sitting in -the missionary compound up at Jehol in the evening, I thought of these -things and looked into the eyes that looked into mine, the kind, brown -eyes, and I wondered did she remember, did she think of them, too. I -looked again, and I knew she remembered, that ever with her was the -thought how cut off they were from the rest of the world, and I read -there, though she never murmured, fear. For Jehol has its traditions -of sacrifice and martyrdom too. Only six miles away at a village on -the Lanho, in the year of the Boxer trouble, they had slowly buried the -Catholic priest alive. All the long hot summer's day they had kept -him tied to a post, slowly, to prolong his agony, heaping up the earth -around him. The day was hot, and he begged for water as the long, weary, -hopeless hours dragged themselves away. And some of them had loved him. - -“You might,” said a man looking on, “give him a drink, even if you do -kill him.” - -And they turned on him even as men might have done in the days of the -Inquisition: - -“If you say any more, we will bury you beside him.” - -And so he died a cruel death, a martyr, for there was none to help, and -when the Western nations exacted retribution, they made the people put -up a cross, the symbol of his faith, over the grave. And then, because -they had been forced to do it, every villager who passed that monument -to show his contempt for the foreigner and all his works cast a stone, -till now shape and inscription have both gone, and the passer-by cannot -tell what is that rough rock, jagged and unshapely. - -Yet here among these selfsame people, four and a half days' hard journey -from Peking, far beyond all hope of help from the foreign soldiery, -dwell these Christian missionaries. “To the Greeks, foolishness.” But -could they better demonstrate the strength of their faith? - - - - -CHAPTER XV--A VISIT TO THE TARTAR GENERAL - -{273} - -_Hsiung Hsi Ling, Premier of China--Preparations for a call--A cart -of State--An elderly mule--Waiting in the gate--The yam en--Mr Wu, the -secretary--“Hallo, Missus!”--The power of a Chinese General--“Plenty -robber, too much war”--Ceremonial farewell--A cultivated gentleman--Back -to past ages for the night._ - -|Up in Jehol they called the General commanding the three thousand odd -troops the Tartar General, why I do not know, but it seems it is the -title by which he is commonly known among the country people. He was -Hsiung Hsi Ling, the man who is now Premier of China, and to him I -brought letters of introduction so that I might be admitted to the -Imperial Palace and Park and be treated as a person of consequence, -otherwise I imagine a foreigner and a woman at that would have but small -chance of respect in China. The Chinese letters lifted me to the rank of -the literati, which must have been rather surprising to the Chinese, and -these in English were such that I felt I must bear myself so as to live -up to them. - -The yamen was about five minutes' walk from the mission station, and -in my ignorance I had thought I would stroll up some morning when I -had recovered from the fatigues of the journey, but the missionaries, -{274}steeped in the lore of Chinese etiquette, declared such a -proceeding was not suitable. A person of consequence, such as my letters -proclaimed me, must bear herself more becomingly. - -“Write and ask if ten o'clock on Tuesday morning will be a suitable time -for you to call on the General, and send your letters by your servant. -I dare say there will be somebody who can read them, though I am sure -there will be nobody who can write an answer,” said the missionary. “The -General's English-speaking secretary is away.” - -Accordingly I sent off Tuan, who was more than sure that he was equal -to the task, and he returned without a letter, as the missionary had -prophesied, but saying: “She say all right.” - -“And now you must have a cart,” said that missionary who was more -worldly wise than I expected an enthusiast to be, “and don't get down -till the yamen gates are opened. It would never do to wait with the -servants in the gate.” - -How Eastern it sounded! And then his wife came and superintended my -toilet. The weather was warm, not to say hot, and I had thought a -black and white muslin a most fitting and suitable array. But she was -horrified at the effect. It was made in the mode of 1913, and did not -suggest, as the long Manchu robes do, that I was built like a pyramid, -broadest at the base. - -“Haven't you got a coat to put over you,” said she looking round, and -she seized my burberry which was the only thing in the shape of a wrap -I had with me. Chinese ideas of propriety evidently influenced her very -strongly. - -I declined to wear a burberry on a hot day late in {275}May, though all -the Chinese Empire were shocked and horrified at my impropriety, but I -sought round and found a lace veil which, draped over me, was a -little suggestive of a bridal festivity, but apparently satisfied all -conditions, and then I went out to mount into that abomination--a Peking -cart. The Peking cart that is used for visiting has a little trestle -carried over the back end of the shafts, which is taken down when the -occupant wishes to mount and dismount, so I got into the seat of honour, -the most uncomfortable seat well under the tilt, and Tuan, glorious in -a long black silk brocade robe, his queue newly oiled and plaited, and -a big straw hat upon his head, climbed on to the tail of the shaft, and -the carter, dressed in the ordinary blue of his class, with the ordinary -rag over his head to keep off the dust, walked beside the most venerable -white mule I have ever come across. I don't know whether aged animals -are held in respect in China, I'm afraid not. The poor old thing had -great deep hollows over his eyes. I suspect Tuan had got him cheap, -because the cart was respectable, and he had been good once--of course -he would never have let me lose face--and then he made me pay full -price, a whole fivepence I think it came to. - -“That's a very old mule, Tuan,” I said. - -“Yes,” he assented, “very old, she forty,” which was certainly more -than I had reckoned him. I afterwards came to the conclusion he meant -fourteen. - -What Tuan was there for, I certainly don't know, except to carry my -card-case, which I was perfectly capable of carrying myself. - -We went out into the dusty, mud-coloured street, and along between -mud-coloured walls of the dullest, most uninteresting description, and -presently we arrived at the yamen gates, and here it was evident that -Tuan, who had been so important all across the mountains, was now quite -out of his depth. - -“Cart no can go,” said he. “Missie get out.” - -I was prepared for that. “No,” I said very important for once in my -life, “I wait till someone comes.” - -The yamen entrance was divided into three, as all Chinese entrances -seem to be, and over it were curved tiled roofs with a little colouring, -faded and shabby, about them; all of it was badly in need of repair, -and on the fast-closed gates in the middle were representations of some -demon apparently in a fit, but his aspect was a little spoiled by the -want of a fresh coat of paint. The two little gates at either side were -open, and here clustered Chinese soldiers in khaki, and men in civilian -dress of blue cotton, and all stared at the foreign woman who was not -a missionary, in the cart; that is the rude ones stared, and the polite -ones looked uncomfortably out of the corners of their eyes. A Chinaman's -politeness in this respect always ends by making me uncomfortable. A -good, downright stare that says openly: “I am taking you in with all my -eyes,” I can stand, but the man who looks away and down and out of the -corners of his eyes gets on my nerves in no time. - -However, this time I had not long to wait. After a minute or two out -came a messenger, a Chinese of the better class, for he was dressed in -a bright blue silk coat and petticoats, with a black sleeveless jacket -over it, and the gates at his command, to my boy's immense astonishment, -opened, and my cart rumbled into the first courtyard. We went on into -a second--bare, ugly courtyards they were, without a flower or a tree or -any green thing to rest the eye upon--and then I got down as there came -to meet me a small bare-headed man without a queue, and his thick -black hair apparently cut with a saw and done with a fork. He wore an -ill-fitting suit of foreign clothes, and about his neck, instead of a -collar, one of those knitted wraps an Englishwoman puts inside her coat -when the weather is cold. On his feet were the white socks and heelless -slippers of the Chinese. Instead of the dignified greeting the first man -had given me he remarked genially, and offhandedly: “Hallo, Missus!” - and he did it with a certain confidence, as if he really would show the -numerous bystanders that he knew how to receive a lady. - -[Illustration: 0386] - -[Illustration: 0387] - -Through one shabby courtyard after another, all guarded by soldiers in -khaki, he led me to the presence of the Tartar General, Hsiung Hsi Ling, -the great man who had been Minister of Finance and who now held military -command over the whole of that part of China, independent even of the -Viceroy of the Province of Chihli. Those who told me made a great point -of that independence; but in China it seems that a General with troops -at his command always is independent, not only of the Viceroy of the -Province in which he is stationed, but of anyone else in authority. The -President himself would treat him with great respect so long as he had -troops at his back. He is, in fact, entirely independent. If the central -authorities give him money to pay his troops, well and good, he holds -himself at their command, if they do not, then he is quite likely -to sympathise with his men, and become not only a {278}danger to the -community among whom he is stationed, but to the Government as well. It -is hardly likely yet in China, that a General popular with his troops -can be degraded or dismissed. He can only be got rid of by offering him -something better. - -Here I found none of the pomp and magnificence I had expected to find -about an all-powerful Oriental. We went into a room floored with stone, -after the Chinese fashion, and furnished with a couple of chairs, and -through that into a plain, smallish room, with the usual window of -dainty lattice-work covered with white paper. All down the centre of it -ran a table like a great dining-table, covered, as if to emphasise -the likeness, with a white cloth. I felt as if I had come in at an -inopportune moment, before the table had been cleared away. Seated at -this table, with his back to the window, was the General. He rose as I -entered and came forward, kindly and considerately, to meet me--a man -of middle height, younger than I expected, for he hardly looked forty. -There was not a thread of white in his coal-black hair, but he had -some hair on his face--a moustache and the scanty beard that is all the -Chinese can produce--so he was evidently of ripe years, well past middle -age. He wore a uniform of khaki, as simple and devoid of ornament as -that of one of his own soldiers; his thick black hair was cut short and -he had a clever, kindly face. Though he could understand no English, he -looked at the foreign woman pleasantly, and as if he were glad to see -her. He went back to his chair, and I was seated at his right hand, -while his secretary, and very inadequate interpreter, sat on his left. -An attendant, looking like an ordinary coolie, brought in tea in three -cups with handles and saucers, foreign fashion, and the interview began. - -I have been told that a grave and unsmiling demeanour is the proper -thing to bring to a Chinese interview; and if so I failed lamentably -to come up to the correct standard. But since the interpreter knew even -less English than Tuan, whom I had left outside, there was really little -else to do but smile and look pleasant. My host certainly smiled many -times. I complimented him on the beauty of his country and then I asked -permission, that is to say his protection, to go on to Lamamiao, or as -it is called on the maps, Dolnor. Goodness knows why I asked. It would -have meant two or three weeks at least in that awful Peking cart, but I -appear to be so constituted that, when I am within range of a place, -it would seem like missing my opportunities not to try and get there. I -don't know what there is to see at Dolnor, but it is up on the Mongolian -plateau, and there is a big lamaserie there and a living Buddha, that -is an incarnation of the Buddha. The one who is there at present may be -very holy as to one part of him, but the earthly part requires plenty -of drink, I am told, and the caresses of many women to make this world -tolerable. However, I was not to see him. The General and his secretary -might not have understood much, but they did understand what I wanted -then, and they were emphatic that I could not go. The General looked at -his secretary and then at me, and explained at length, and he must have -thought that the English language was remarkable for its brevity, for I -was curtly informed: - -“No can go. Plenty robber. Too much war.” - -I had been threatened with robbers before, but not by an important -General, and this time I felt I had better take heed, besides there was -always the consolatory thought that, if I did not go, I need not ride -any more in a Peking cart. Then I asked permission to visit the Palace -and Park. - -“No can do one time,” said the interpreter. “How many day you want go?” - -Somehow, though I had come all this way to see it, I have a rooted -objection to sightseeing. To get a ticket to go into a place takes away -the charm; still as I was about it, I thought I would go as often as -I could, so I said I would like to go on five days. The missionaries, -though they had been here for six years, had never yet set foot inside -that Park; to go required a permit from the authorities, and it was -their idea to ask nothing from those authorities that they could -possibly avoid. They would certainly have thought it wicked to ask for -anything for their own pleasure. I did not suffer from any such ideas. -As the General was bent on being civil to me I thought I might as well -say I would like to take my friends in, and as we could not go without -proper attendants--I who come from a country where I have blacked my own -boots, cooked the family dinner, and ironed my husband's shirts many a -time--I asked for and got about thirty tickets. I've got some of them -still. Then I drank a cup of very excellent tea, and before five minutes -were up rose and made my adieux. Brevity, I had been instructed, was the -soul of courtesy in a Chinese interview. - -The Tartar General saw me through two doors, which I believe was a high -honour, and due to my having been introduced as a learned doctor. The -correct thing is to protest all the while and beg your host not to come -any farther, but I am really too Western in my ideas and it seems silly. -Either he wants to come, or he doesn't, in any case what does it matter, -and so I fear me, I was not vehement enough in my protestations of -unworthiness. The secretary conducted me to my cart, where a subdued -and awed servant awaited my arrival with a new and exalted idea of his -Missie's importance. Tuan had magnified my importance, I fancy, for his -own sake. He was serving a woman--yes, but she was a rich, generous, and -important woman, but he had never, at the bottom of his heart, really -dreamt that she could go through the yamen gate in a cart, that she -could sit down beside the Tartar General, that she could get many -tickets to go inside grounds forbidden to all the Chinese round about. -I have not the slightest doubt all the details of the interview reached -him before I came out, brief as my visit had been, and he helped me -into my cart with, I felt, more deference and less make-believe than was -usual. It made me smile a little to myself, but I think it was Tuan who -really got most satisfaction out of that visit, though he had not seen -the great man. - -[Illustration: 0393] - -I had been comparing China to Babylon. I came away from the General's -presence with the feeling that a Babylonish gentleman was truly -charming--just like a finished product of my own time. Probably he was. -But there were other sides to Babylon, as I was reminded that night. It -is well to know all sides. When I had said good night and gone to bed, -there burst on my ears a loud beating of gongs, and the weird war-song -I had found so {282}haunting the night before. The soldiers were -stimulating their courage for the fighting in Mongolia. I wonder if the -Babylonish soldiery sang so before they marched down upon Jerusalem. -Then there came the watchman's gong, and the howl of the _wonks_ that -prowled about the town. I was back in past ages, and as I lay there -in the darkness I wondered how I had ever had the temerity even to -contemplate a visit to Lamamiao, and whether I would ever have the -courage necessary to get back to Peking by myself. Luckily the fears of -the dark are generally dispersed by the morning sunlight. At least they -are with me, or I should never dare go travelling in remote places at -all. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI--A PLEASURE-GROUND OF THE MANCHUS - -{283} - -[Illustration: 0386] - -_A return call--Ceremonies--A dog-robbing suit--Difficulties of -conversation--A treat for the amah--The British Ambassador at Jehol in -the eighteenth century--The last stages of decrepitude--Glories of the -park--The bronze temple--A flippant young Chinese gentleman--“Ladies' -Temple”--Desolation and dirt and ruin--“Happiness Hall”--Examining a -barbarian._ - -|The next day the secretary returned my call, bringing with him the -General's card, and an apology for not coming himself. He was so very -busy. I never expected him to come, and don't suppose he ever really -intended to, but it was true Chinese politeness to put it that way. - -Mr Wu had sent to say he was coming to call upon me, and it surprised -me to see the commotion such a little thing occasioned in the mission -house. I felt they were really being awfully good to my guest, but, -without taking away one jot from their kindliness, I think, too, they -were very glad to be brought into friendly relations with the yamen, and -I was very glad indeed to think that I, who was in outer darkness from -their point of view, was able to do this little thing for them. Cakes -were made, the best tea got out, the table set, and the boy, who -generally waited upon us humbler folk in a little short jacket and -trousers caught in at the ankles, was put into the long coat, {284}or -petticoat, whichever you are pleased to call it, that a well-dressed -Chinese servant always wears. It seems it is not the correct thing for -him to wait upon one in a little short jacket. And then when all was -ready, and the small great man was announced, to my surprise the other -two women were hustled out of sight, and I and the missionary received -him alone. Why, I do not know even now. I sat on a high chair, and -so did Mr Wu, and the missionary gave us both tea and cakes, handing -everything with both hands; that I believe is the correct Chinese way -of doing honour to your guest. I received it as a matter of course, said -“Thank you,” or “Please don't bother,” whichever occurred to me, but -Mr Wu was loud in his protestations, in both Chinese and English, and -I fancy the whole interview--unless I spoiled it--was conducted in a -manner which reflected infinite credit upon the missionary's knowledge -of Chinese customs and the secretary's best manners. They certainly were -very elaborate. This day he had on what one of my naval brothers was -wont to designate a dog-robbing suit, though I don't know that he ever -went out dog-robbing, and I am quite sure the young Chinese gentleman -never did, also his hair was neatly parted in the middle and plastered -down on each side, and with a high collar and tie on, he looked really -as uncomfortable and _outré_ as it was possible to look. He had brought -me the tickets, and implored me if I wanted anything else to ask for it. -The interview was a trial to me. It is all very well to be prepared to -smile, but smiles don't really fill up more than a minute or two, and -what on earth to say during the rest of the time, troubled me. In all -the wide world, and I felt it acutely, we had absolutely nothing in -common save those tickets, and my heart sank when he told me he would do -himself the honour of showing me over the palace himself. If I felt -half an hour with him, for all my gratitude for his kindliness, an -intolerable burden, what on earth should I feel the livelong day. One -piece of news he did tell us, there had been fighting in Mongolia, -severe fighting, and many men had been killed, but when we came to -ask which side had won he said he did not know, and then of course we -guessed the Chinese had suffered a reverse, for if the telegraph could -tell any details at all, it was sure to have told the all-important one -which side was the conqueror. At last, when it seemed that hour had been -interminable, the young man rose, and the farewells began. - -[Illustration: 0399] - -Those Chinese farewells! Chinese etiquette is enough to cure the most -enthusiastic believer in form and ceremony, to reduce him to the belief -that a simple statement of fact, a “Yea, yea,” and “Nay, nay,” are amply -sufficient. I suppose all this form and ceremony, this useless form -and ceremony, comes from the over-civilisation of China. If ever in the -future I am inclined to cavil at abrupt modern manners, I shall think of -that young man protesting that the missionary must not come to the gate -with him, when all the while he knew he would have been deeply offended -if he had not. I fear lest I may now swing over to the other side and -say that a rude abruptness is a sign of life, so much better does it -seem to me than the long elaborate and meaningless politeness that -hampers one so much. - -When he had gone we discussed the question of a visit to the Imperial -Park, and then I found that {286}there were many things in the way of my -entertaining my hosts, prayer meetings, dispensary afternoons, visits, -and that in any case, only the women would accompany me, whether that -was really because the men were busy, or because it was not Chinese -etiquette for men and women to amuse themselves together I do not know, -but I strongly suspect the latter had something to do with it. For of -course what the foreigners did, more especially the new foreign woman, -who was not a missionary, was a matter of common talk in all the -district round. Then my hostess put it to me, as I had plenty of tickets -and to spare, would I take their amah. She was most anxious to go. She -had been in service with a Manchu family, and once when they were going -she had been ill, and once it had rained so that she had never gone, -and she was getting an old woman and feared her chances were dwindling -sadly. - -It was such a little thing to want, and yet I don't know. When I looked -at the hideous town, for Cheng Teh Fu remains in my mind as the ugliest -Chinese town I have ever seen it had not the charm and fascination that -walls give, when I thought of the delights that lay hidden behind the -fifteen miles of high wall that surround the Park, the delights that -are for so very, very few, I did not wonder that the Manchu woman, who -already counted herself old, she was forty-five, should have been -very anxious to go inside. And when I told her I would take her, she -immediately begged leave to go away and put on her best clothes. I -couldn't see any difference between her best clothes and her everyday -clothes, but I could see she had a small shaven grandchild in -attendance, who was immediately put on to carry my umbrella. I suppose -she hoped to smuggle him in to see the delights, and I said nothing, for -I had plenty of tickets. - -Curiously enough, while most of China has been a sealed book, the -Hunting Palace--it is really better described as a Lodge--of the Manchus -has been known to the English for one hundred and twenty years, for -it was here that, on the 9th September, 1793, the Emperor Ch'ien Lung -received Lord Macartney, the first British Ambassador to China. I did -not come straight from Peking, but I know that the road, by valley and -mountain pass, is reckoned very bad indeed, and very few people as -yet take the trouble to go to Jehol. It is four and a half days' hard -travelling now, but Lord Macartney took seven, and it is a curious -commentary upon the state of the roads in the British Isles in those -days that though his chronicler, Sir George Staunton, writing of -the journey, complains a little of the roads, and mentions that Lord -Macartney's carriage, which he had brought out from England with him, -had generally to be dragged along empty, while the “Embassador” himself -rode in a palankeen, he does not make much moan about them; no one -reading his account would think they were so appalling as they must have -been, for I cannot think they have deteriorated much since those days. -When I looked at the streets of Cheng Teh Fu, banks, dust heaps, great -holes, stones, I tried to imagine the British “Embassador's” coach being -dragged across them, twisting round corners, balancing on sidings, up -to the axles in dust, or perhaps mud, for it was September and the crowd -looking on at the lord from the far islands of the sea, who was bringing -tribute to the Emperor of China, {288}for I am afraid it is hardly -likely they believed he was doing anything else. - -Another thing Sir George Staunton notes is the scarcity of timber. “The -circumjacent hills,” he writes, “appeared to have been once well planted -with trees; but those few which remained were stunted, and timber has -become very scarce. No young plantations had been made to supply the old -ones cut down.” Now the hills round are absolutely bare, there is not -a sign that ever a tree has grown upon them, and I should not have -believed they had, had it not been for Sir George Staunton's account. - -And on the other side of this ugly town, among these desolate hills, is -set a wall, a wall about twenty feet high, with a broad pathway on the -top, along which the guards might walk. And the wall has been built with -discretion. Not only was it to keep out all but the elect, but it was -to block effectually all view of what went on inside. Not even from the -neighbouring hills is it possible to look into that Park. Its delights -were only for the Son of Heaven and those who ministered to his -well-being. - -We went along a sordid, dusty street to the principal gate, a shabby -and forlorn-looking gate, and the watch-tower over it was crumbling to -decay, and we entered the courtyard, a forlorn and desolate courtyard, -where the paving-stones were broken, and the grass and weeds were coming -up between the cracks. Then there was a long pathway with a broken -pavement in the middle, a pavement so characteristic of China that -wherever I chance to see such I shall think of her golden sunshine and -bright skies. On either side of that pathway were high walls over which -were peeping the tiled roofs of {289}buildings, until at last after -fully five minutes' walk, after passing through many gates, all in -various stages of decay, we came to a place where the path ended with -two doors to the right and left. This, the palace of an Emperor; it -seemed impossible to believe it. I wondered if the woman who had wanted -for so many years to see it was disappointed. She was supporting my -elbow, true Chinese fashion, and Tuan, having succeeded in passing on my -camera to the usual ragged follower, was on the other side, as if I were -in the last stages of decrepitude. At first this exceeding attention -used to irritate me, but by this time I had resigned myself to my fate. -I was more concerned at the shabbiness and sordidness of everything. Of -course no one save the servants, who keep the place, live in the grounds -now, no one has lived there for over fifty years, not since 1860, when -the reigning Emperor fled there from the Allies who sacked Peking, and -died there. Perhaps it was for that reason that his secondary wife, the -great Dowager-Empress whom all the world knew, disliked the place, and -went there no more. I remembered that, as I stood between those two -doors and wondered which I should go through first. The one to the -left led to some courtyards surrounded by low, one-storied -buildings--Emperor's first bedroom--said Tuan, and possibly he was -right. I turned to the door on the right and as it opened I knew that -these Manchu pleasure-grounds had been planned, as so many things -Chinese are planned, nobly. I stepped out on to a plateau and there, -there in this treeless China, was a grove of firs and pines. The blue -sky peeped through the branches, the sunshine dappled the ground with -shadow and light, and the wind {290}murmured softly among the evergreen -foliage. Here was coolness and delight. Beyond the plateau lay a long -grassy valley surrounded by softly rounded, tree-clad hills, and right -at the bottom of the valley was a lake with winding shores, a lake -covered with lotus lilies, with islands on it, with bridges and -buildings, picturesque as only the ideal Chinese buildings can be -picturesque. It may have been created by art, and at least art must have -entered to some great extent into the making of the beauty, but there -is no trace of it. My followers looked at the scene and looked at me, -as much as to say this was something belonging to them they were showing -me, and they hoped I was appreciating it properly. It might have been -the Manchu woman's very own. In truth I could only look and wonder, lost -in admiration. What could the heart of man want more for the glorious -summertime, the brief, hot summer of Northern China? - -[Illustration: 0405] - -The first glance was a surprise, and the farther I went in the more my -wonder grew. There were paved pathways, but they were not aggressively -paved, the rough grey stones had just been sunk in the grass. They -were broken a little now, and they toned naturally with the rural -surroundings. There were lovely bridges bridging ravines, and here, too, -was not one stone too many, nothing to suggest the artificial, that -so often spoils the rural scene made to conform to the wants of the -luxurious. Of course, besides the pavement, other things had fallen into -disrepair, there were steps down hill-sides that were well-nigh hopeless -for purposes of ascent and descent, and there were temples where indeed -the gods were forlorn and forgotten. Gigantic gods they were {291}with -fearsome faces and painted in gorgeous colours, but they were all dusty -and dirty. There was one temple all of bronze, but it was rusted -and shabby. There were shrines in it set with agate and jasper, -mother-of-pearl and jade, and what looked like great rubies, but, very -likely, were only garnets. Shabby, forlorn, forgotten was the temple, -the steps that led up to it were broken and almost unusable, the -courtyards were neglected, the tiles of the roof grass-grown, the -woodwork of the doors perished, the walls falling, but the situation on -the hill-side, embosomed in pines, with the beautiful lake at its feet -and the wide vista of hills beyond, was superb, eternal. - -On the day the missionaries arranged to come we made a picnic to this -temple, I, and the two missionary women and our attendants, my servant, -and their boy and the Manchu amah and all the heterogeneous! following -my boy always collected, and as we sat there at our open-air tiffin the -gates were pushed open and in came the little Chinese gentleman in his -badly fitting foreign clothes. - -“Hallo, Missus,” he said, and I forgot for a moment all the wonders that -his people had done, that were here before my eyes. - -He had come to fulfil his promise and show me round. - -He was a flippant young gentleman impatient of the past, just as I have -seen young men of his age, in Western lands. He was only a boy, after -all, and he threw stones at the birds just as a younger boy might have -done in England. Only I wished he wouldn't. It was nice to think the -birds had sanctuary here, but I suppose it was a way of letting off -steam, since he could not talk very easily to the {292}foreign woman. A -small red squirrel, sitting up deeply engaged with a nut from one of the -fir-trees, roused him to wild excitement, and he shouted and yelled to a -couple of dignified, petticoated Chinamen on the other side of the lake, -in a way that quite upset my ideas of Chinese propriety; in fact, he was -the General's secretary, showing off just as I have seen boys in other -lands show off. - -He took us to the women's temple, since we were interested in temples, -a temple away on the other side of the lake, down in a hollow of the -hills, hidden away as woman has been hidden away in China for immemorial -ages. - -“Ladies' temple,” said our cicerone with a wave of his hand. - -And it, too, is falling into decay, the dusty gods, ranged round -the sacred place, remind one of the contents of a lumber-room, and -“Forgotten, forgotten,” is written large all over it. The forlorn old -man in shabby blue, with a tiny little queue and a dirty face who -keeps it, looks as if he too had been forgotten, and was grateful for a -twenty-cent _cumshaw_. Only the courtyard with the soft breeze rustling -in the pine-trees and ringing the musical bells that hung from the eaves -was peaceful in the afternoon sunshine, with a charm of its own. - -What women have come and prayed here? The proud Manchu Empress whom her -lord had neglected, the Chinese concubine who longed to find favour in -his eyes? - -All over this pleasure-ground are buildings, but so deftly placed they -never for one moment interfere with the charm of the countryside. There -is a little temple on the Golden Mountain where the Jehol River takes -its rise in a spring; on another hill is a little look-out place or tea -pagoda with the roof covered with tiles of imperial yellow, and a view -from it that even an Emperor is lucky to command. At the end of a -long grassy glade where the deer were feeding in the shade of oaks and -willows was a tall pagoda, and the Emperor's library was in another -little valley, hidden away behind high walls. We entered through a -guard-house and came upon a small door in the high stone wall, and this -door on the inner side appeared to be blocked not only by the trunk of a -tree but by a huge rock. There was, however, just room for one person to -pass round, and then we entered a shaded rock garden, which is all round -the building that holds the library. The deep veranda was charming, on -the hottest day one might sit, cool and secluded, reading here, and on -each corner are exquisite bronze models of Chinese ponies. The library -itself, like most of these houses, was sealed up, and our young friend -had not the key, but the lattice-work windows, and most of the walls are -of lattice-work, for this is a summer palace, were down to the ground, -and through the torn paper I could get a glimpse of what looked like -another lumber-room, but that once must have been gorgeous with red -lacquer and gold. - -[Illustration: 0411] - -Always it was the same, desolation and dirt and ruin, and the young man -who was showing us everything made as if he wished to impress upon us -that it did not matter. He belonged to the modern world, and these were -past and gone. But when we admired and were charmed and delighted I saw -that he, too, was pleased. - -There were the Emperor's rooms opening into a courtyard close to the -gate, there were his great audience halls down among a grove of firs, -where probably he received Lord Macartney. Highly scented white single -peonies made fragrant the grass-grown courtyards, where great bronze -gongs are the remnants of a past magnificence, and the rooms are many of -them empty, for all they are so carefully sealed. There were more rooms -for the Emperor on an island in the lily-covered lake; and reached by -bridges that are taken up in June and July and boats substituted, and -farthest away of all, at the very end of the lake, were the rooms of the -Empress. - -“Happiness Hall” the Emperor Kwang Hsi wrote on it with his own hands, -or so our guide told us, and there to this day the golden characters -remain. Did they speak the truth, I wonder. At that particular period, I -believe, the Empress counted for a great deal more than the Emperor, so -possibly at least the envious Emperor felt he was speaking the truth; -but, as a rule, it is difficult to think that the woman who shared the -Dragon Throne could have been happy. It is difficult to believe that -any woman in China can be happy, she counts for so little even now. - -The courtyards were like all the other courtyards, with great gongs of -Ningpo work and bronze vases, and shaded by picturesque pine-trees, -only here was an innovation. In a sheltered corner, hidden away from the -sight of all, by high walls and green shrubs, was the bathing-place of -the Court ladies, and on the other side their theatre. - -The Emperor had a theatre not far from the gate of the pleasure-grounds, -a great place all falling into decay, and here they had a play for the -entertainment {295}of their guests, when the first British Ambassador -came here, and it is evident that the women were allowed to be present, -even though they were behind a screen, for Sir George Staunton relates -that the only foreigner, seen by these secluded women, was George -Staunton aged thirteen, the page to the Embassy, who was led on to a -platform by a eunuch, so that the wives and concubines of the Emperor -might see what a barbarian from the islands of the far Western sea -looked like. - -But here, close to her rooms, and by her bathing-place, the Empress -had her own private theatre, and I wondered what manner of play could -interest such secluded ladies, such narrow lives. - -Wonderful to relate both the theatre and the roof of the rooms showed -signs of having been recently done up. The rumour ran that after the -Revolution in February 1912, the Court thought of retiring here, and -these recent repairs in a place that has been untouched for years give -colour to the rumour. We asked our guide as we sat at afternoon tea on -the veranda looking out at the sunlight coming through the fir-trees -that make the approach to “Happiness Hall,” but he shook his head. He -knew nothing about it. He was a most circumspect young man and never did -know anything, he felt perhaps it was wisest not. - -Oh but it was sad the waste here. All these dwelling-places dotted about -in the valley, on hillside, hidden away in groves of trees, are of one -story, they are summer palaces, but the rooms are well-proportioned, -and with their wide verandas and their lattice-work walls down to the -ground, must have been delightful to live in, and they were furnished as -{296}an Emperor's palace should be furnished. There were chairs -unlike the usual Chinese chairs, comfortable chairs of red lacquer and -blackwood, and they were inlaid with cloisonne work, with carved jade, -with delightful patterns in mother-of-pearl, there were stools, there -were tables, there were low k'ang tables of lacquer, and all were -perished with the sun and the wind; of not one piece has any care been -taken. Some of the rooms were empty, some were full of packing-cases -hiding I know not what treasures; judging by those perishing chairs and -tables that were left out, I should imagine something worth possessing. -Can it be only fifty years since an Emperor came here, it might be two -hundred judging by the state of decay everything was in, and yet, -when all was said and done, this place struck me as being the most -magnificent pleasure-ground, the most beautifully situated, the most -beautifully planned, that I have ever seen, worth, and more than worth, -the arduous journey through the mountains that I had taken to see it. - -It is supposed to be cut off from the people, and it is I suppose, -judging by the joy the mission servants expressed at getting a chance to -see it. - -“All my life,” said the amah, “I have served in Manchu families, and yet -see, it is through a foreigner I come here,” and it was as if the seeing -had crowned her life. But still there is a little dribbling in of -the favoured few of the lower classes. It may be they were the palace -servants who speared great black bass in the lake. It might have been -they who carried out baskets of lily root and sold them with the fish -outside. I bought bass easily enough for my hostess, great things still -alive and bleeding from women's temple. - -Sometimes there are rumours of art treasures sold from the palace, and -then again it is contradicted: but I wondered, as I looked at those -great baskets of lily roots that were constantly going outside, if here -were not an excellent way to conceal contraband. It may be though that -the guards at the gate are not to be bought, and possibly I do them an -injustice. - -[Illustration: 0417] - -I had written this and felt apologetic for my suspicions of the humble -guard, forgetting that this is China, where anything may happen, when -before my book could go to press a greater than the guard, no less -a person than the Premier himself, Hsiung Hsi Ling, the great Tartar -General, was accused of taking away the precious curios from Jehol. He -had brought away curios valued at tens of thousands of pounds but he -succeeded in proving to the satisfaction of the President that he had -brought them away only that they might be stored in one of the great -museums in Peking, where not only could they be cared for, but they -might be seen by far more people. Again I thought of the Babylonish -gentleman. Doubtless he, too, would have moved the nation's treasures -from one place to another without saying by your leave to any man. To -whom was he responsible? Perhaps to the King upon the throne. Hardly to -him, if his army was strong and faithful. - -We lingered on the veranda of the Empress's house over our afternoon -tea--wherever we went hot water was procurable--and the sunshine came -through the branches of the pines and firs, the great willows dipped -their weeping branches in the clear waters of the lake, the deep blue of -the sky contrasted {298}with the green of the pine-needles, and a long -snake came slowly, slowly, through the grass to take his daily drink, -unperturbed, though all the servants and the German girl and I ran -to look at him. He knew he was quite safe, no one would harm a sacred -snake. A small eagle screamed from the rocks above, there was the -mourning of a dove, the plaintive cry of a hoopoe, and a chattering -black and white magpie looked on. A tiny blue kingfisher, like a jewel, -fluttered on to a stone, and a bird something like a thrush, sang -sweetly and loudly as the evening shadows lengthened. A great blue -crane, tall almost as a man flew slowly across the water, and the brown -deer clustered in the glades and began to feed. Truly it was an ideal -spot up among the barren hills of Inner Mongolia, this Park enclosed by -miles of high wall and still carefully guarded and jealously secluded -by the Republic as it was by the Manchus. When France became a Republic -they threw open her palaces and desecrated her most holy places. Not so -here in the unchanging East. What was secluded and difficult of entrance -in Manchu times is secluded and entered only by favour still. China -absorbs the present and clings to the past. Are they past for ever those -dead and gone rulers who made these pleasure-grounds? - -Their last representative is a little boy hidden away in the heart of -Peking, hardly realising yet what he has lost. - -“If he comes again,” said a Chinese gentleman, “he will be Emperor by -force of arms.” - -Will the power come back to him? I can no more believe that the Chinese -will become a modern nation, forgetting these glories of their past, -than could the women's bathing place. {299}prophet believe that the Lord -would leave His chosen people in captivity. - -[Illustration: 0421] - -“I will bring again the captivity of my people of Israel, and they -shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant -vineyards, and drink the wine thereof; they shall also make gardens and -eat the fruit of them. - -“And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be pulled -out of their land, which I have given them, saith the Lord thy God.” - -And we from the mission wended our way back through the dusty, dirty, -commonplace streets, and the little gentleman who had been our guide, -much to his relief, I am sure, for he spoke little English, and he would -not speak Chinese, turned off at the yamen. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII--THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD GODS - -{300} - -Legend of the birth of Ch'ien Lung--A valley of temples--Wells--A temple -fair--Hawking--Suicide's rock--Five hundred and eight Buddhas--The -Po-Ta-La--Supercilious elephants--Steep steps--Airless temple--The -persevering frog--Bright-roofed Temple--Tea at the Temple of the great -Buddha--The Yuan T'iing--Ming Temple outside Peking. - -As we walked in the Manchu Park the amah told us a story, a legend, and -the missionary translated it to me. It took a long while to tell, first -she slipped on the rocky steps and we had to wait till she recovered, -then the General's secretary joined us, and finally, when we were -safe back at the missionary compound, she had to wait till we got by -ourselves, because she thought it was improper! - -And this was the story the amah told as we walked beneath the fir-trees. - -Once upon a time in the valley of Jehol there was born a little girl who -did not speak till she was three years old, then she opened her lips, -looked at her grandfather, and called him by name. And her grandfather -died. She did not speak again for a long time, but the next person she -called by name also died and consternation reigned in the family. Her -father and mother died, whether because she spoke to them the amah -did not know, but she was left penniless and at last a farmer took -compassion {301}upon the girl, now just growing into womanhood, and told -her she might have charge of the ducks, on condition she did not speak. -So for her began a lonely, silent life among the mountains, herding the -ducks. - -One night as the dusk was falling and the duck pond and the hills beyond -were wrapped in a mysterious haze that hid and glorified everything, -there came along an old man riding a donkey and asked her the way to the -Hunting Palace of the Manchus that was somewhere among these hills and -valleys. He had lost his way, he said, and wanted to get back there. The -girl looked at him with mournful eyes and shook her head without saying -a word. - -“What is your name?” cried the old man. - -She turned away silently. - -“I must find my way,” he added, and she took up a stick and gathered her -ducks together. - -“But I am the Emperor,” said he, “and I must get back. What manner of -girl are you who will not speak to the Emperor?” - -And she looked at him more gravely than ever out of her dark eyes, and -drove off her ducks, taking no more notice of the greatest ruler in the -world than if he had been a common coolie. So the Emperor found his own -way to his Hunting Palace, and that night he dreamed a dream, a vivid -dream, that an ancestor had come to him and told him he must marry a -strange and mysterious woman. - -But the women who came to the ruler of the earth were not strange and -mysterious, they were ordinary and commonplace even though he had his -choice of the women of his Empire. He brooded over the matter and came -to the conclusion that the strange {302}and mysterious woman must be the -girl he had met herding ducks in the dusk of the evening. Then he sent -out to the part of the country where he had wandered that night and -demanded the daughters of the farmer. - -The good man was highly honoured and dressed his girls in their finest -clothes to appear before their Emperor, but, and they must have been -bitterly disappointed, though they were pretty girls, there was nothing -strange about them, they were as ordinary as all the other women who -occupied, the women's quarters. He had seen many, many, like them. Again -he sent back to the farm and they said there were no other women there -but the girl who herded the ducks, and it could not be she because she -spoke to no one. - -“That,” said the Emperor, “is the girl,” and he ordered her to be -properly arrayed and brought before him at once. - -Alas for the glamour that comes with the dusk of the evening. The girl -had grown up without any comeliness and when she was brought before the -Emperor he turned away disgusted. Nevertheless, for his dream's sake, he -married her and gave her a fine house to live in, but he had nothing to -do with her, she was his wife only in name. - -And the duck-herd girl, come to high estate, pined because she did not -find favour in the sight of her lord, she never ceased to pray for his -smiles, and at last she so worked upon him that one night he did send -for her. She was his wife, her shame had gone from her. And presently, -it was rumoured that the duck-herd girl was to become a mother. But the -Emperor was angry, he could not believe the child was his, and he turned -Her out to wander, desolate and forlorn, upon the hills. At first she -despaired, but presently she took courage, had she not been raised from -a duck-herd to an Emperor's wife, and was she not to bear his son, and -by her faith in herself she persuaded some shepherds who tended their -sheep upon the other side of the valley from the wall that surrounded -the Emperor's pleasure-grounds to take her in, and here her son was -born. - -[Illustration: 0427] - -And that night the Emperor dreamed another dream. He dreamed that a most -illustrious son had been born to him that very night. He sent to make -inquiries and the only one of his wives or concubines who had borne a -son that night, was the woman he had driven from him with contumely. -So he took her back with honour, and his dream--both his dreams were -fulfilled, for the son that was born to him that night among the hills -was the illustrious Ch'ien Lung, the man who at eighty-three still sat -upon the Dragon Throne when George III. of England sent Lord Macartney -on an embassy to China in 1793. - -And Ch'ien Lung was a good son to his mother at least, and because she -was a pious woman, and he was born amidst those sheltering hills, -he built there a series of temples to the glory of God and for her -pleasure. - -I was bound to go and see those temples, indeed I think the man or woman -who went to Jehol and did not make a point of going up that valley must -lack something. - -The drawback for me was that I had to go in a Peking cart, and even -though those temples were {304}built by an Emperor I had no reason to -suppose that the road that led to them was any better than the ordinary -Chinese roads. It wasn't, but I don't know that it was worse. Tuan -engaged the old white mule of venerable years, and I think that was an -advantage, he went so slowly that often I was able to walk. I did not -propose to visit all of them, there is a family likeness between all -Chinese temples, whatever be the name of the deity to whom they are -dedicated, and seeing too many I should miss the beauty of all. - -It was a gorgeous June morning the day I set out, sitting as far forward -as I could in the cart with Tuan on the tail of the shaft and the carter -walking at the mule's head. All round one side of Cheng Teh Fu is built -up a high wall that the Chinese call a breakwater, and a breakwater -I believe it is indeed after the summer rains, though then, the Jehol -River ran just a shallow trickle at its foot. There were many little -vegetable gardens along here, the ground most carefully cultivated and -showing not a weed, not a stray blade of grass. “The garden of every -peasant contained a well for watering it,” writes Sir George Staunton in -1793, “and the buckets for drawing up the water were made of ozier twigs -wattled or plaited, of so close a texture as to hold any fluid.” He -might have been writing of the peasants of today. As I passed, with -those selfsame buckets were they watering their gardens. - -The people were streaming out of the town, most of them on foot, but -there were a few fat men and small-footed women on donkeys, and one or -two of the richer people, I noticed by the women's dresses they were -mostly Manchus, had blossomed out into {305}Peking carts. For there was -a fair at one of the temples, a very minor temple; and a fair in China -seems to be much what it used to be in England, say one hundred, or -one hundred and fifty years ago. It attracts all the country people for -miles round. Here they were all clad in blue, save the lamas, who -were in bright yellow and dingy red. There were the people who came to -worship, followed by the people who came to trade, who must make money -out of them, men buying, selling, begging, men and women clad in neat -blue cotton, and in the dingiest, dirtiest rags, men gathering the -droppings of the mules and donkeys, and--how it made me think of -the historical novels I used to love to read in the days when novels -fascinated me--gentlemen with hooded hawks upon their wrists. All of -them wended their way along this road, this beautiful road, this very, -very bad road, and I went along with them, the woman who was not a -missionary, who was travelling by herself, and who, consequently, was an -object of interest to all, far outrivalling the fair, in attraction. It -was a scene peculiarly Chinese, and it will be many a long year before I -forget it. - -On the left-hand side rose a steep ridge well wooded for China, and on -the very top of the ridge ran the encircling wall that shut out all but -the favoured few from the pleasure-grounds of the Manchu Sovereigns. Six -weeks before, up among these mountains of Inner Mongolia, all the trees -were leafless, and on this day in June the leaves of the poplars and -aspens, acacias and oaks still retained the delicate, dainty green -of early spring, and on the right were the steep, precipitous cliffs -over{306}looking the town. One of these cliffs goes by the sinister -name of the “Suicide's Rock.” The Chinese, though we Westerners are -accustomed to regard them as impassive, are at bottom an emotional -people. They quarrel violently at times, and one way of getting even -with an enemy or a man who has wronged them is to dare him to go over -the “Suicide's Rock.” To my Western notions it is not quite clear how -the offender is scored off, for the challenger must be prepared to -accompany the challenged on his dreadful leap. Yet they do it. Three -times in the six years the missionaries have been here have a couple -gone over the cliff, to be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. - -But that sinister cliff was soon passed, and turning a little with the -wall we went up a valley, and up that valley for perhaps eight miles, -embosomed among the folds of the hills, hills for the most part steep, -rounded, and treeless, are the temples, red, and gold, and white, -against the green or brown of the hills. - -To the glory of God! Surely. Surely. An ideal place for temples whoever -placed them there, artist or Emperor, holy man, or grateful son. - -“Idols. Idols,” say the missionaries at Jehol sadly, those good, kindly -folk, whose life seemed to me an apology for living, a dedication of -their whole existence to the austere Deity they have set up. But here I -was among other gods. - -“We go last first,” said Tuan, and I approved. There would be no fear of -my missing something I particularly wanted to see if they were all on my -homeward path. - -“B-rrr! B-rrr! B-rrr!” cried my “cartee man” encouraging his old mule, -and as we went along the road, up the valley, and everywhere in this -treeless land, the temples were embowered in groves of trees, sometimes -fir-trees, sometimes acacia or white poplar, and always on the road -we passed the blue-clad people, and out of the carts peeped the Manchu -ladies with highly painted faces and flower-decked hair, till at last -we came to a halt under a couple of leafy acacia-trees, by a bridge that -had once been planned on noble lines. And bridges are needed here, for -the missionaries told me that a very little rain will put this road, -that is axle-deep in dust, five feet under water. But the bridge was -broken, the stones of the parapet were lying flat on one side; the -stones that led up to it were gone altogether. And as the bridge that -led up to it so was the temple. - -[Illustration: 0433] - -[Illustration: 0434] - -Tuan, with some difficulty, made me understand it was the Temple of the -five hundred and eight Buddhas, and as I went in, attended by a priest -in the last stages of dirt and shabbiness, I saw rows upon rows of -seated Buddhas greater than life-size, covered with gold leaf that shone -out bright in the semi-darkness, with shaven heads and faces, sad and -impassive, gay, and laughing, and frowning. Dead gods surely, for the -roof is falling in, the hangings are tatters, and the dust of years lies -thick on floor, on walls, on the Buddhas themselves. There was a pot of -sand before one golden figure rather larger than the rest, and I burned -incense there, bowing myself in the House of Rimmon, because I do not -think that incense is often burned now before the dead god. - -They are all dead these gods in the temples {308}builded by a pious -Emperor for his pious mother. The next I visited was a lamaserie, built -in imitation of the Po-Ta-La in Lhasa. It climbs up the steep hill-side, -story after story, with here and there on the various stages a -pine-tree, and the wind whispers among its boughs that the Emperor who -built and adorned it is long since dead, the very dynasty has passed -away, and the gods are forgotten. Forgotten indeed. I got out of my -cart at the bottom of the hill, and the gate opened to me, because -the General had sent to say that one day that week a foreign woman was -coming and she must have all attention, else I judge I might have waited -in vain outside those doors. Inside is rather a gorgeous p'ia lou, -flanked on either side by a couple of elephants. I cannot think the man -who sculptured them could ever have seen an elephant, he must have done -it from description, but he has contrived to put on those beasts such a -very supercilious expression it made me smile just to look at them. - -From that p'ia lou the monastery rises. Never in my life before have -I seen such an effect of sheer steep high walls. I suppose it must be -Tibetan, for it is not Chinese as I know the Chinese. Stage after stage -it rose up, showing blank walls that once were pinkish red, with square -places like windows, but they were not windows, they were evidently put -there to catch the eye and deepen the effect of steepness. Stage after -stage I climbed up steep and narrow steps that were closed alongside the -wall, and Tuan, according to Chinese custom, supported my elbow, as if -it were hardly likely I should be capable of taking another step. Also, -according to his custom, he had engaged a ragged follower to {309}carry -my camera, and a half-naked little boy to bear the burden of the -umbrella. I don't suppose I should have said anything under any -circumstances, China had taught me my limitations where my servants were -concerned, but that day I was glad of his aid, for this Tibetan temple -meant to me steep climbing. I have no use for stairs. Stage after stage -we went, and on each platform the view became wider, far down the valley -I could see, and the hills rose range after range, softly rounded, -rugged, fantastic, till they faded away in the far blue distance. I had -thought the Nine Dragon Temple wonderful, but now I knew that those men -of the Ming era who had built it had never dreamed of the glories of -these mountains of Inner Mongolia. I was weary before I came to the -last pine-tree, but still there was a great walled, flat-topped building -towering far above me, its walls the faded pinkish red, on the edge of -its far-away roof a gleam of gold. - -The steps were so narrow, so steep, and so rugged, that if I had not -been sure that never in my life should I come there again I should have -declined to go up them, but I did go up, and at the top we came to -a door, a door in the high blind wall that admitted us to a great -courtyard with high walls towering all round it and a temple, one of -the many temples in this building, in the centre. The temple was -crowded with all manner of beautiful things, vases of cloisonné, figures -overlaid with gold leaf, hangings of cut silk, the chair of the Dalai -Lama in gold and carved lacquer-work, the mule-saddle used by the -Emperor Ch'ien Lung, lanterns, incense burners, shrines, all heaped -together in what seemed to me the wildest confusion, and everything -was {310}more than touched with the finger of decay. All the rich, red -lacquer was perished, much of the china and earthenware was broken, the -hangings were rotted and torn and ragged, the paint was peeling from -stonework and wood, the copper and brass was green with rust. Ichabod! -Ichabod! The gods are dead, the great Emperor is but a name. - -It was oppressive in there too, for the blank walls towered up four -sides square, the bright blue sky was above and the sun was shining -beyond, but the mountain breezes for at least one hundred and fifty -years have not been able to get in here, and it was hot, close, and -airless. Once there were more steps that led up to the very top of the -wall, but they are broken and dangerous now, crumbling to ruin, and as -far as I could make out from Tuan's imperfect English no one has been -up them for many a long day. There was nothing to be done but to go -away from this airless temple and make my way down, down to the platform -where are its foundations, and thence down, down, by the little plateaux -where the pine-trees grow, by the rough and broken paths to the floor of -the valley again. - -Sightseeing always wearies me. I want to see these places, I want to -know what they are like, I want to be in a position to talk about them -to people who have also been there--they are the people who are most -interested in one's doings--but the actual doing of the sightseeing I -always find burdensome. Now having done so much I was tempted to go back -and say I had had enough, for the time being, at any rate, but then I -remembered I could not indefinitely trespass upon the kindness of my -hosts, I must go soon, and I should never, never come back to this -valley. Still I was desperately tired and sorely tempted to give up, and -then I remembered the two frogs who fell into a pitcher of milk. I don't -think Æsop told the story, but he ought to have done so. They swam round -and round hopelessly, for there was no possibility of getting out, and -one said to the other, “It's no good, we may as well give in. It'll save -trouble in the end,” and he curled up his legs and sank to the bottom of -the milk and was drowned. But the other frog was made of sterner stuff. - -“I think I'll just hustle round a bit,” said he, needless to say he -was an American frog, “who knows what may happen.” So he swam round and -round, and sure enough when they looked into that pitcher in the morning -there he was sitting on a little pat of butter! - -[Illustration: 0440] - -I thought of that frog as I sat at the door of the next temple we drove -up to, and I, weary and tired and a little cross, had to wait some time, -for the priest who had the keys was not there. Of course I had sent no -word that I was coming and it was unreasonable of me to expect that the -priest should wait from dawn till dark for my arrival. With me waited a -little crowd of people, men, women, and children, that gradually grew in -numbers, and when the custodian at last arrived it was evident they all -intended to take advantage of my presence and go in and see the temple -too. I had not the least objection, neither, it seemed, had the priest. -They were holiday-makers from the fair, and they probably gave him some -small trifle. Tuan decided that we should give eighty cents, roughly -about one and eightpence, or forty cents American money. {312}And glad -indeed was I that I had waited. Not that the temple differed much inside -the courtyard and the sanctuary from the other temples I have seen, -all was the same ruin and desolation, only after I had climbed up many -steps, roughly made of stones and earth, we came upon a platform from -which the roof was visible. The Emperor's Palace, they call this, or the -Bright-roofed Temple, and truly it is well-named. Its roof, with dragons -running up all four corners, is of bronze covered with gold, and gleams -and glitters in the sunshine. Solomon's Temple, in all its glory, could -not have been more wonderful, and as I tried to photograph it, though no -photograph can give any idea of its beauty, some girls, Manchu by their -head-dresses, with flowers in their hair, giggled and pointed, and -evidently discussed me. I thought they would come in well--a contrast to -that gorgeous roof, but a well-dressed Chinese--not in foreign clothes, -I imagine the General's secretary is the only man up among these hills -who could indulge in such luxuries, drove them away and then came and -apologised, through Tuan, for their behaviour. I said, truly enough, -that I did not mind in the least, but he said, as far as I. could make -out, that their behaviour was unpardonable, so I am afraid they hadn't -admired me, which was unkind, considering I had taken them in. - -The next temple, a mass of golden brown and green tiled roofs, looked -loveliest of all in its setting, against the hill-side. The roofs, -broken and irregular, peeped out from among the firs and pines, and -there was a soft melody in the air as we approached, for a wind, a -gentle wind had arisen, and every bell {313}hanging at the corners of -the many roofs was chiming musically. I do not know any sweeter sound -than the sound of those temple bells as the evening falls. This was -an extensive place of many courtyards, climbing up the hill like the -lamaserie, the Ta Fo Hu they call it or “Great Buddha Temple,” for in -one of the temples, swept and garnished better than any temples I had -seen before, was a colossal figure seventy feet high with many arms -outstretched and an eye in the palm of every hand. It is surely a very -debased Buddhism, but I see the symbolism, the hand which bestows and -the eye which sees all things. But for all the beauty of the symbolism -it was ugly, as all the manifestations of the Deity, as conceived -by man, are apt to be. The stone flooring was swept, but the gold is -falling from the central figure, the lacquer is perished, the hangings -are torn and dust-laden beyond description, and the only things of -any beauty are walls which are covered with little niches in which are -seated tiny golden Buddhas, hundreds of them. I wanted to buy one but -the priests shook their heads, and it would have been a shame to despoil -the temple. Even if they had said, “Yes,” I don't know that I would have -taken it. - -There were many priests here, shaven-headed old men and tiny children -in brilliant yellow and purplish red, but they were all as shabby and -poverty-stricken as the temple itself. I had tea on one of the many -platforms overlooking many roofs, and a young monk made me a seat from -the broken yellow tiles that lay on the ground, and the little boy -priests looked so eagerly at the cakes I had brought with me--the -priests gave me tea--that I gave some to them and {314}they gobbled them -up like small boys all the world over. Tuan pointed out to me some dark -steps in the wall. If I went up there I should reach the Great Buddha's -head; but I shook my head, not even the recollection of the frog who -gave up so easily could have made me climb those steps. I am not even -sorry now that I didn't. - -I was very tired by this time, and very thankful that there was only one -more temple to see. There were really eight in all, but I was suffering -from a surfeit of temples, only I could not miss this one, for every day -when I went for a walk I could see its glorious golden brown tiled roof -amid the dark green of the surrounding mountain pines. It was unlike any -Chinese roof I have seen, but it is one of the temples of this valley. -It is the Yuan T'ing, a temple built by Ch'ien Lung, not for his mother -but for a Tibetan wife, after the style of her country, that she might -not feel so lonely in a strange land. - -Its pinkish red arched walls and gateways seemed quite close, but it -was exceedingly difficult to get at, particularly for a tired woman who, -when she was not jolting in a Peking cart, had been climbing up more -steps than even now she cares to think about. And the temple, save for -that roof, was much like every other temple, a place of paved courtyards -with the grass and weeds growing up among the stones, and grass and even -young pine-trees growing on the tiled roofs. The altars were shabby -and decayed, and when I climbed up till I was right under the domed -roof--and it was a steep climb--more than once I was tempted to turn -back and take it as read, as they do long reports at meetings. I found -the round chamber was the roosting-place of many pigeons, all {315}the -lacquer was perished, the bronze rusted, and though the attendant opened -many doors with many keys, I know that the place is seldom visited, and -but for that vivid roof, it must be forgotten. - -[Illustration: 0446] - -And yet the people like to look at these things. There was not a crowd -following me as there was at the Bright-roofed Temple, but there was -still the ragged-looking coolie who was carrying my camera. I suspected -him of every filthy disease known in China, and their name must be -legion, any that had by chance escaped him I thought might have found -asylum with the boy who bore my umbrella. I hoped that rude health and -an open-air life would enable me to throw off any germs. These two, who -had had to walk where I had ridden, I pitied, so I told Tuan to say they -need not climb up as I had used up all my plates and certainly had no -use for an umbrella. - -“She say 'No matter,'” said Tuan including them both in the feminine, -“She like to come,” and I think he liked it as well, for they escorted -me with subdued enthusiasm round that domed chamber inspecting what must -have been a reproduction of a debased Buddhist hell in miniature. It was -covered with dust, faded, and weather-worn, like everything else in the -temple, but it afforded the four who were with me great pleasure, and -when with relief I saw a figure instead of being bitten by a snake, or -eaten by some gruesome beast, or sawn asunder between two planks, -merely resting in a tree, Tuan explained with great gusto and evident -satisfaction: “Spikes in tree.” He took care I should lose none of the -flavour of the tortures. But even the tortures were faded and worn, the -dust had settled on them, the air and the sun {316}had perished them, -and I could not raise a shudder. Dusty and unclean they spoiled for me -the beauty of the golden roof and the dark green mountain pines. I was -glad to go down the many steps again, glad to go down to the courtyard -where the temple attendant, who might have been a priest, but was -dressed in blue cotton and had the shaven head and queue that so many -of the Manchus still affect, gave me tea out of his tiny cups, seated on -the temple steps. A dirty old man he was, but his tea was perfect, and I -made up my mind not to look whether the cups were clean, for his manners -matched his tea. - -And then I went out on to the broad cleared space in front, and feasted -my eyes for the last time on the golden brown tiled roof set amongst the -green of the pines, and clear-cut against the vivid blue of the sky. - -And yet it is not the beauty only that appeals, there is something more -than that, for even as I look at those hills, I remember another temple -I visited just outside Peking, a little temple, and I went not by myself -but with a party of laughing young people. There was nothing beautiful -about this temple, the walls were crumbled almost to dust, the roof was -falling in, upon the tiles the grasses were growing, the green kaoliang -crept up to the forsaken altars, and the dust-laden wind of Northern -China swept in through the broken walls and caressed the forgotten gods -who still in their places look out serenely on the world beyond. - -I could not but remember Swinburne, “Laugh out again for the gods are -dead.” Are they dead? Does anything die in China? {317}In the Ming -Dynasty, some time in the fifteenth century, when the Wars of the Roses -were raging in England they built this little temple, nearly three -hundred years before Ch'ien Lung built the temples in the valley at -Jehol, and they installed the gods in all the glory of red lacquer and -gold, and when the last gold leaf had been laid on and the last touches -had been given to the dainty lacquer they walked out and left it, left -it to the soft, insidious decay that comes to things forgotten. For it -must be remembered, whether we look at this valley of dead gods or this -little temple outside Peking, that when a memorial is put up it is not -expected to last for ever, and no provision is made or expected for its -upkeep. If it last a year, well and good, so was the man to whom it was -put up, valued, and if it last a hundred years--if five hundred years -after it was dedicated there still remains one stone standing upon the -other, how fragrant the memory of that man must have been. It is five -hundred years since this temple was built and still it endures. Behind -is the wall of the city, grim and grey, but the gods do not look upon -the wall, their faces are turned to the south and the gorgeous sunshine. -They still sit in their places, but the little figures that once adorned -the chamber are lying about on the ground or leaning up disconsolately -against the greater gods, and some of them are broken. On the ground, -in the dust, was a colossal head with a face that reminded us that the -silken robes of Caesar's wife came from China, for that head was never -modelled from any Mongolian, dead or alive. A Roman Emperor might have -sat for it. The faces that looked down on it, lying there in the dust, -were Eastern there were the narrow {318}eyes, the impassive features, -the thin lips, but this, this was European, this man had lived and -loved, desired and mourned, and, for there was just a touch of scorn on -the lips, when he had drained life to its dregs, or renounced its joys, -said with bitterness: “All is vanity.” - -And the Chinese peasants came and looked at the aliens having tiffin in -the shade, and for them our broken meats were a treat. One was crippled -and one was blind and one was covered with the sores of smallpox, so -hideous to look upon that the lady amongst us who prided herself upon -her good looks turned shuddering away and implored that they be driven -off, before we all caught the terrible disease. - -What could life possibly hold for these people? Surely for them the gods -are dead? - -I talked with an old woman, dirty and wrinkled, with a bald head and -maimed feet. - -“She asks how old you are?” translated the young man beside me. - -“Tell her I am sixty.” I thought it would sound more respectable. - -“A-a-h!” She looked at me a moment. “She says,” he went on translating, -“that you have worn better than she has, for she is sixty too. And have -you any sons?” - -For a moment I hesitated, but I was not going to lose face, what would -she think of a woman without sons, so I laid my hand on his arm, and -smiled to indicate that he was my son. - -“A-a-h!” and she talked and smiled. - -“What does she say?” He looked a little shy. “Tell me” - -“She says you are to be congratulated,” and indeed he was a fine -specimen of manhood. “She says she has three sons.” - -[Illustration: 0452] - -And alas, alas, I had brought it on myself, for I was not to be -congratulated, I have no son, but I was answered too. I have called the -gods dead, but they are not dead. What if the temple crumbles? There is -the cloudless sky and the growing green around it. This woman was old, -and grey, and bent. The gods have given her three sons, and she is -content. This child had the smallpox, and by and by when it shall have -passed--Ah but that is beyond me. What compensation can there be for the -scarred face and blinded eyes? Only if we understood all things, perhaps -the savour would be gone from life. Behind all is the All Merciful, the -dead gods in the temples are but a manifestation of the Great Power that -is over all. - -I thought of that little temple outside the walls of Peking, and the -old woman who congratulated me on the son I had not as I stood taking -my last look at the Yuan T'ing. And then I looked again away down -the valley to the folds of the hills where the other temples nestled, -embowered in trees. Far away I could see the sheer walls of the Po Ta -La climbing up the hill-side golden and red and white with the evening -sunlight falling upon them, and making me feel that just so from this -very spot at this very hour they should be looked at, and then I went -down, a ten minutes' weary scramble, I was very, very tired, to my cart -and across the Jehol River again, back to the missionary compound. - -Never again shall I visit that valley of temples that lies among the -hills of Inner Mongolia, never again, and though, of course, since the -days of {320}Marco Polo Europeans have visited it, it is so distant, so -difficult to come at that they have not gone in battalions. But those -temples in the folds of the hills are beautiful beyond dreaming, and -though their glory has gone, still in their decay, with the eternal -hills round and behind them, they form a fitting memorial to the man who -set them there to the glory of God and for his humble mother's sake. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII--IN A WUPAN - -{321} - -_The difficulties of the laundry--A friend in need--A strange picnic -party--The authority of the parent--Travelling in a mule litter--Rain--A -frequented highway--Yellow oiled paper--Restricted quarters--Dodging the -smoke--“What a lot you eat!”--Charm of the river--Modest Chinamen--The -best-beloved grandchild--The gorges of the Lanho--The Wall again--Effect -of rain on the Chinaman--The captain's cash-box--A gentleman of -Babylon--Lanchou._ - -|And now it was time to bid farewell to my kind hosts and start back to -Peking. Thank goodness it was going to be fairly easy. Instead of the -abominable cart I was going to float down the River Lan in a wupan, a -long, narrow, flat-bottomed boat. - -First I sent my servant with my card to the Tartar General to thank him -for all his kindness. This brought Mr Wu down again with the General's -card at the most awkward hour of course, in the middle of tiffin, and Mr -Wu, much to my surprise, was dignified and even stately in full Chinese -dress. He was all grey and black. His petticoat or coat or whatever -it is called was down to his ankles and was of silk, he wore a little -sleeveless jacket, and his trousers were tied in with neat black bands -at his neat little ankles. So nice did he look, such a contrast to the -commonplace little man I had seen before, that I felt obliged to admire -him openly. Besides, I am {322}told that is quite in accordance with -Chinese good manners. - -He received my compliments with a smile, and then explained the reason -of the change. - -“Must send shirt, collar, Tientsin, be washed. I very poor man, no more -got.” - -And Tientsin was three or four days by river, sometimes much more, as -well as five hours by train! I felt he had indeed done me an honour when -he had used up his available stock of linen in my entertaining, and to -think I had only admired him when he was in native dress! - -Another Chinese gentleman came in that day and was introduced to me. He -contented himself with Chinese dress, and he had more English, though it -was of a peculiar order. - -“But I hate to hear people laugh at Mr Chung's English,” said the -missionary who was a man of the world. “He was a good friend to me and -mine. If it hadn't been for him, I doubt if I or my wife or children -would be here now.” - -It was the time of the Boxer trouble, and the missionary was stationed -at Pa Kou where Mr Chung had charge of the telegraph station. The -missionaries grew salads in their garden, which the head of the -telegraphs much appreciated, and even when he felt it wiser not to be -too closely in touch with the foreigners, he still sent down a basket -for a salad occasionally. One day in the bottom of the basket he put -a letter. “The foreign warships are attacking the Taku Forts,” it ran, -“better get away. I am keeping back the news.” - -But the missionary could not get away. Up and down the town he went, -but he could get no carts. {323}All the carters raised their prices to -something that was prohibitive, even though death faced them. And then -came the basket again for more salads and in the bottom was another -letter. - -“The foreign ships have taken the Taku Forts,” it said. “I am keeping -back the news. Go away as soon as possible.” - -And then the missionary spoke outright of his dilemma, and Mr Chung went -to the Prefect of the town and enlisted him on their side. The carters -were sent for. - -“You would not go,” said the Prefect, “when this man offered you a great -sum of money,” it sounded quite Biblical as he told it. “Now you will go -for the ordinary charge or I will take off your heads.” - -So two carts were got, and the missionary, his wife, and children, and -as much of their household goods as they could take, were hustled into -them, and they started off for the nearest port. - -“If ever I am in a hole again I hope I travel with such women,” said the -missionary; “they were as cheerful as if it was a picnic-party.” - -All went well for a couple of days, and then one day, passing through a -town, a man came up and addressed them, and said he was servant to some -Englishmen, a couple of mining engineers, who were held up in this town, -because they had heard there was an ambush laid for all foreigners a -little farther down the road. And the missionaries had thought they were -the last foreigners left in the country! - -They promptly sought out the Englishmen, who confirmed the boy's -story. It was not safe to go farther. The little party decided to stick -together, {324}and finally the missionary went to the Prefect and told -him how the Prefect at Pa Kou had helped them, and suggested it would -be wise to do likewise, especially as the foreigners were sure to win in -the end. - -The Prefect considered the matter and finally promised to help them, -provided they put themselves entirely in his hands and said nothing, -no matter what they heard. It seemed a desperate thing to do to put -themselves entirely in the hands of their enemies, but it was the -only chance, that chance or Buckley's and Buckley, says the Australian -proverb, never had a chance. They agreed to the Prefect's terms; he set -a guard of soldiers over them, and they travelled surrounded by them. -But at first they were very doubtful whether they had been wise in -trusting a man who was to all intents and purposes an open enemy. - -“Where did you get them?” asked the people of the soldiers as they -passed. And the soldiers detailed at length their capture. - -“And what are you going to do with them?” And the soldiers always said -that, by the orders of the Prefect of the town where they had been -captured, they were taking them on to be delivered over to the proper -authorities, who would know what to do with them, doubtless the least -that could happen would be that they would have their heads taken off. - -And the man who told me the story had lived through such days as that. -Had seen his wife and children live through them! - -But the Prefect was as good as his word, the soldiers saw them through -the danger-zone to safety. - -“But if it had not been for Mr Chung in the first {325}instance-------” - says the missionary, and his gratitude was in his voice. - -And Mr Chung had his own troubles. He was progressive and modern, not, -I think, Christian, and he had actually himself taught his daughters to -read. Also he had decided not to bind their feet. And then, the pity -of it--and the extraordinary deference that is paid to elders in -China--there came orders from his parents in Canton--he must be a man -over forty--the daughters' feet were to be bound. - -I was glad indeed to have heard the story of Mr Chung before I set out -on my journey. - -The Lanho is seven miles, a two hours' journey by mule litter or cart -from Cheng Teh Fu, and I decided to go by litter and send my things by -cart, for, not only did I object to a cart, but I thought I would like -to see what travelling by mule litter was like. I am perfectly satisfied -now--I don't ever want to go by one again. - -I had to get in at the missionary compound, because it takes four men to -lift a litter on to the mules, and there was only one to attend to -it. It was early in the morning, only a little after six, but all the -missionaries walked about a mile of the way with me--I felt it was -exceedingly kind of them, because it was the only time I ever saw men -and women together outside the compound--then they bade me good-bye, -and I was fairly started on my journey. I sat in my litter on a spring -cushion, lent me for the cart by a Chinese gentleman, and I endeavoured -to balance myself so that the litter should not--as it seemed to me to -be threatening to do--turn topsy-turvy. It made me rather uncomfortable -at first, because once in there is no way of getting out without -{326}lifting the litter off the mules. You may indeed slip down between -it and the leading mule's hind legs, but that proceeding strikes me as -decidedly risky, for a mule can kick and his temper does not seem to be -improved by having the shafts of a litter on his back. - -It was a cloudy morning and it threatened rain. I had only seen one -day's rain since I had been in China. The scenery was wild and grand. We -went along by the Jehol River, on the edge of one range of precipitous -mountains, while the other, on the other side of the river, towered -above us. We were going along the bottom of a valley, as is usual in -this part of the world, but as the Jehol is a flowing river and takes up -a good part of the bottom, we very often went along a track that was -cut out of the mountain-side. The white mule in front with the jingling -bells and red tassels on his collar and headstall, always preferred the -very edge, so that when I looked out of the left-hand side of my litter, -I looked down a depth of about thirty or forty feet, as far as I could -guess, into the river-bed below. I found it better not to look. Not that -it was very deep or that there was any likelihood of my going over. I am -fully convinced, in spite of the objurgations showered upon him by the -driver, that that white mule knew his business thoroughly. Still it made -me uncomfortable to feel so helpless. - -And the way was very busy indeed, even thus early in the morning. All -sorts of folk were going along it, there were heavy country carts drawn -by seven strong mules, they were taking grain to the river to be shipped -“inside the Wall,” and the road that they followed was abominable. Every -now and {327}again they would stick in the heavy sand or ruts, or stones -of the roadway--everything that should not be in a road, according to -our ideas, was there--and the driver would promptly produce a spade and -dig out the wheels, making the way for the next cart that passed worse -than ever. Two litters passed us empty, and we met any number of donkeys -laden, I cannot say with firewood, but with bundles of twigs that in any -other country that I know would not be worth the gathering, much less -the transport, but would be burnt as waste. And there were numberless -people on foot, this was evidently a much-frequented highway, since it -was busy now when it was threatening rain, for no Chinese go out in the -rain if they can help it. I thoroughly sympathise, I should think twice -myself before going if I had but one set of clothes and nowhere to -dry them if they got wet. The hill-sides were rocky and sterile, but -wherever there was a flat place, wherever there was a little pocket of -fertile ground, however inaccessible it might appear, it was carefully -cultivated, so was all the valley bottom along the banks of the river, -and all this ground was crying out for the rain. And then presently -down it came, heavy, pouring rain such as I had only seen once before -in China. It drove across our pathway like a veil, all the rugged hills -were softened and hidden in a grey mist, and my muleteer drew over and -around me sheets of yellow oiled paper through which I peered at the -surrounding scenery. I wasn't particularly anxious to get wet myself, -because I did not see in an open boat how on earth I was ever to get -dry again, and three or four days wet or even damp, would not have been -either comfortable, or healthy. - -[Illustration: 0462] - -{328}At last we arrived at the river, a broad, swift-flowing, muddy river -running along the bottom of the valley and apparently full to the brim, -at least there were no banks, and needless to say, of course, there was -not a particle of vegetation to beautify it. There was a crossing here -very like the ferrying-place I had crossed on my journey up, and there -were a row of long boats with one end of them against the bank. It was -raining hard when I arrived, and the litter was lifted down from the -mules, but the only thing to do was to sit still and await the arrival -of Tuan and my baggage in the Peking cart. - -They came at last, and the rain lifting a little Tuan set about -preparing one of the boats for my reception. - -I must confess I looked on with interest, because I did not quite see -how I was going to spend several days with a servant and three boatmen -in such cramped quarters. The worst of it was there was no getting out -of it now if I did not like it, it had to be done. Though I do worry so -much I always find it is about the wrong thing. I had never--and I might -well have done so--thought about the difficulties of this boat journey -until I stood on the banks of the river, committed to it, and beyond the -range of help from any of my own colour. For one moment my heart sank. -If it had been the evening I should have despaired, but with fourteen -good hours of daylight before me I can always feel hopeful, especially -if they are to be spent in the open air. The wupan is about thirty-seven -feet long, flat bottomed, and seven feet wide in the middle, tapering of -course towards the ends. In the middle V-shaped sticks hold up a ridge -pole, and {329}across this Tuan put a couple of grass mats we had bought -for this purpose, then he produced some unbleached calico--and when -I think of what I paid for that unbleached calico, and how poor the -Chinese peasants are, I am surprised that the majority of them do not -go naked--and proceeded to make of it a little tent for me right in the -middle of the awning. I stood it until I discovered that the idea was -he should sleep at one end and the boatmen at the other, and then I -protested. What I was to be guarded from I did not know, but I made him -clearly understand that one end of the boat I must have to myself. There -might be a curtain across the other end of the awning, that I did not -mind, but I must be free to go out without stepping on sleeping servant -or boatmen. That little matter adjusted, much to his surprise, the next -thing we had to think about was the stove. I wanted it so placed that -when the wind blew the matting did not make a funnel that would carry -the smoke directly into my face. But that is just exactly what it -did do, and I've come to the conclusion there is no possible way of -arranging a stove comfortably on a winding river. We tried it aft, and -we tried it for'ard, and when it was aft it seemed the wind was behind, -and when it was for'ard the wind was ahead, and whichever way the smoke -came it was equally unpleasant, so I decided the only thing to be done -was to smile and look pleasant, and be thankful that whereas I required -three meals a day to sustain me in doing nothing, my boatmen who did -all the work and had a stove of their own, apparently, sustained life on -two. The ideal way would be to have a companion and two boats, and -then the trip would be delightful. {330}As it was I found it well worth -doing. - -The rain stopped that first day soon after we left the crossing-place, -and from the little low boat the mountains on either side appeared to -tower above us, rugged, precipitous, sterile; they were right down to -the waters edge and the river wound round, and on the second day we were -in the heart of the mountains, and passed through great rocky gorges. -It was lonely for China, but just as I thought that no human being could -possibly live in such a sterile land, I would see far up on the hills a -little spot of blue, some small boy herding goats, or a little pocket -of land between two great rocks, carefully tilled, and the young green -crops just springing up. And then again there were little houses, neat, -tidy little houses with heavy roofs, and I wondered what it must be -like to be here in the mountains when the winter held them in its grip. -Somehow it seemed to me far more lonely and desolate than anything I had -seen on my way across country. - -We always tied up for the men to eat their midday meal, and we always -tied up for the night. But we wakened at the earliest glimmer of dawn. -They evidently breakfasted on cold millet porridge, and I, generally, -was up and dressed and had had my breakfast and forgotten all about it -by five-thirty in the morning. My bed took up most of the room in my -quarters, I dressed and washed on it, a bath was out of the question, -and pulling aside the curtains sat on it and had my breakfast, the -captain of the boat, the gentleman with the steering-oar, looking on -with the greatest interest. - -He spoke to Tuan evidently about my breakfast, and I asked him what he -said. - -“She say what a lot you eat,” said Tuan. “Not in ten days she have so -much.” - -{468}And I was surprised, because I had thought my breakfast exceedingly -frugal. I had watched the eggs being poached, and I ate them without -butter or toast or bacon, I had a dry piece of bread, tea, of course, -and some unappetising stewed pears. But by and by I was watching my -captain shovelling in basinsful of millet porridge, about ten times as -much as I ate, and I came to the conclusion it was the variety he was -commenting on, not the amount. - -They were things of delight those early mornings on the river. At first -all the valley would be wrapped in a soft grey mist, with here and there -the highest peaks, rugged and desolate, catching the sunlight; then -gradually, gradually, the sun came down the valley and the mists melted -before his rays, lingering here and there in the hollows, soft and grey -and elusive, till at last the sunlight touched the water and gave this -muddy water of the river a golden tint, and all things rejoiced in -the new-born day. The little blue kingfishers preened themselves, the -blue-grey cranes with white necks and black points that the Chinese call -“long necks” sailed with outspread wings slowly across the water, and -the sunlight on the square sails of the upcoming boats made them gleam -snow white. For there was much traffic on the river. Desolate as the -country round was, the river was busy. The boats that were going down -stream were rowed, and those that were coming up, when the wind was -with them, put out great square sails, and when it was against them were -towed by four men. They fastened the towing rope to the mast, stripped -themselves, and slipping a {332}loop over their heads fixed it round -their chests and pulled by straining against a board that was fast -in the loop. The current was strong, and it must have been hard work -judging by the way they strained on the rope. The missionaries were -afraid I would be shocked at the sight of so many naked men, but it -was the other way round, my presence, apparently the only woman on the -river, created great consternation, for the Chinaman is a modest man. -Badly I wanted to get a photograph of those straining men, for never -have I seen the Chinese to greater advantage. In their shabby blue -cotton they look commonplace and of the slums, you feel they are -unwashed, but these suggest splendid specimens of brawny manhood. They -don't need to be washed. However, as we approached, boatmen and servant -all raised their voices in a loud warning singsong. What they said, I -do not know, but it must have been something like: “Oh brothers, put on -your clothes. We have a bothering foreign woman on board.” The result -would be a wild scramble and everybody would be getting into dirty blue -garments, only some unfortunate, who was steering in a difficult part or -had hold of a rope that could not be dropped was left helpless, and he -crouched down or hid behind a more lucky companion. If there had been -anybody with whom to laugh I would have laughed many a time when we met -or passed boats on the Lanho. But I never got a really good photograph -of those towing men. My men evidently felt it would be taking them at -a disadvantage, and the production of my camera was quite sufficient -to send us off into mid stream, as far away from the towing boat as -possible. - -Occasionally the hills receded just a little and left a small stretch -of flat country where there were always exceedingly neat-looking huts. -There were the neatest bundles of sticks stacked all round them, just -twigs, and we landed once to buy some, for the men cooked entirely with -them, and my little stove needed them to start the charcoal. But oh, the -people who came out of those houses were dirty. Never have I seen such -unclean-looking unattractive women. One had a child in her arms -with perfectly horrible-looking eyes, and I knew there was another -unfortunate going to be added to the many blind of China. She ran away -at the sight of me, and so did two little stark-naked boys. I tempted -them with biscuits, and their grandfather or great-grandfather, he might -have been, watched with the deepest interest. He and I struck up quite -a friendship over the incident, smiling and laughing and nodding to one -another, as much as to say, “Yes, it was natural they should be afraid, -but we--we, who had seen the world--of course knew better.” Then he went -away and fetched back in his arms another small shaven-headed youngster -whom he patted and petted and called my attention to, as much as to say -this was little Benjamin, the well-beloved, had I not a biscuit for him? -Alas I had been too long away from civilisation and I had given away all -I had. But when I think about it, it is always with a feeling of regret -that I had not a sweet biscuit for that old Chinaman up in the mountains -and his best-beloved grandson. - -I saw one morning some men fishing in the shallows by a great rock, and -I demanded at once that we buy a fish. They were spearing the fish and -{334}we bought a great mud-fish for five cents, for I saw the money -handed over, and then the unfortunate fish with a reed through his gills -was dragged through the water alongside the boat. When I came to eat a -small piece of him, which I did with interest I was so tired of chicken, -he was abominable, and I smiled a little ruefully when I found in the -accounts he was charged at thirty-five cents! Judging by the nastiness -of that fish one ought to be able to buy up the entire contents of the -Lanho for such a sum. However, the boatmen ate him gladly, and I suppose -if I lived on millet for breakfast, tiffin, and dinner, and any time -else when I felt hungry, I might even welcome a mud-fish for a change. -Their only relish appeared to be what Tuan called “sour pickle.” There -was one most unappetising-looking salted turnip which lasted a long -while, though every one of the crew had a bite at it. - -Gorge after gorge we passed, and the rocks rising above us seemed very -high, while the sun beating down upon the water in that enclosed space -made it very hot in the middle of the day, and I was very glad indeed of -the mat awning, though, of course, it was of necessity so low that even -I, who am a short woman, could not stand up underneath, but it kept -off the sun, and the air, coming through as we were rowed along, made a -little breeze. There were rapids, many rapids, but they did not impress -me. I couldn't even get up a thrill, sometimes indeed the boat was -turned right round, but it always seemed that the worst that might -happen to me would be that I should have to get out and walk, and of -course get rather wet in the process. Tuan made a great fuss about -them all, “must take care” but the worst {335}one of all he was so -exceedingly grave over that I felt at least we were risking our valuable -lives. It was inside the wall and was called “Racing Horse Rapid” but it -wasn't very bad. I have been up much worse rapids on the Volta, in -West Africa, and nobody seemed to think they were anything out of the -ordinary, but then the negro has not such a rooted objection to water as -the Chinaman apparently has. My crew had to get wet, up to their waists -sometimes, and it was a little rough on them--I remembered it in their -_cumshaw_--that having a woman on board their modesty did not allow them -to strip, and they went in with all their clothes on. - -The Wall, broken for the passing of the river, is always a wonder, and -here it was wonderful as ever. We stopped here for a little in order, -as far as I could make out, that Tuan might get some ragged specimens of -humanity to pluck a couple of chickens, being too grand a gentleman -to do it himself, and for a brief space the foreshore was white with -feathers, for the thrifty Chinaman, who finds a use for everything, once -he has made feather dusters has no use for feathers. Feather pillows he -knows not. But for once Tuan's skill in putting the work he was paid for -doing, off on to other people, failed either to amuse or irritate me. -I had eyes for nothing but the Wall--the Wall above all other walls -still--for all it is in ruins. As we went down the river it followed -along the tops of the highest hills for over a mile. Always the Wall -cuts the skyline. There is never anything higher than the Wall. And -here, as if this river valley must be extra well guarded, on every -accessible peak was a watch-tower. They are all in ruins now, but they -speak {336}forcibly of the watch and ward that was kept here once. -There was one square ruin on the highest peak. As evening fell, heavy, -threatening clouds gathered and it stood out against them. As we went -far down the valley it was always visible, now to the right of us, now -to the left, as the river wound, and when I thought it was gone in the -gathering gloom, a jagged flash of lightning, out of the black cloud -behind it, illumined it again, and for the moment I forgot that it was -ruined, and thought only what an excellent vantage-point those old-time -builders had chosen. All the country round must see the beacon fire -flaring there. And again I thought of the signals that must have gone -up, “The Mongols are coming down the river. The Manchus are gathering in -the hills.” - -Those heavy clouds bespoke rain, and that night it came down, came down -in torrents, and if there is a more uncomfortable place in which to be -rained upon than a small boat I have yet to find it. Those grass mats -kept off some of the rain, but they were by no means as water-tight as I -should have liked. I spread my burberry over my bed, put up my umbrella, -and stopped up the worst leaks with all the towels I could spare, and -yet the water came in, and on the other side of my calico screen I could -hear the men making a few remarks, which Tuan told me next day were -because, “she no can cook dinner, no can dry clothes.” I had lent them -my charcoal stove, but it was small and would only dry “littee, littee -clothe” so everybody including myself got up next morning in a querulous -mood, and very sorry for themselves. The others at least were earning -their pay, but I wondered how I was {337}going to make money out of -it, and again I questioned the curious fate that sent me wandering -uncomfortably about the world, and sometimes actually--yes actually -getting enjoyment out of it. - -I didn't enjoy that day, however. We went on a little and at length -we stopped, all the country was veiled in soft moist grey mist, the -perpetual sunshine of Northern China was gone, and Tuan and the boatman -came to me. They proposed, of all the Chinese things in this world to -do, to go back! Why I don't know now, for to go back meant going against -the stream and towing the boat! A very much harder job than guiding it -down stream, where it would go of its own weight. I have not often put -my foot down in China. I have always found it best to let my servants, -or those I employed, go about things their own way, but this was too -much for me. I made it clearly understood that the boat belonged to me -for the time being, and that back I would not go. - -Tuan murmured something about some place “she get dry” and I quite -agreed looking at the shivering wretches, but that place had got to be -ahead, not behind us. However, go on they would not, so we pulled up -against the bank and all four of them cowered over the little charcoal -stove till I feared lest they would be asphyxiated with the fumes. I got -in my bed, pulled my eiderdown round me, and thanked Providence I had -it, a sleeping bag, and a burberry, and then as best I could I dodged -the drops that came through the matting, but I knew I wasn't nearly so -uncomfortable as my men. At last the rain lifted a little, and three -rueful figures pulled us down to a small, a very {338}small temple -wherein they lighted a fire and cooked themselves a warm meal. By that -time the rain had gone, and they were smiling and cheerful once more. - -As the result of that rain the river rose three feet, the rapids were -easier than ever to go over, only of course there was the risk of -hitting the rocks that were now submerged, and the waters were muddier -than ever. I felt as if all those mountain-sides were being washed down -into the Lanho, as they probably were. All along the banks, too, the -people were collected gathering--not driftwood, for there was none, but -driftweed, gathering it in with rakes and dipping-in baskets, holding -them out for the water to run away and using the residuum “for burn,” as -Tuan put it. It was dreary, wet, grey, cold. The country grew flatter -as we came down the river, the hills receded; we were in an agricultural -country which was benefiting, I doubt not, by this rain, but with the -mountains went the stern grandeur, and cold rain on a flat country is -uninspiring. Besides breakfast before five-thirty leaves a long day -before one, and the incidents were so small. I watched the captain -steering and refreshing himself with a bite at a pink radish as large -and as long as a parsnip, and it looked cold and uninviting. Surely I -ought to be thankful that Fate had not caused me to be born a Chinese of -the working classes. - -The captain had a large cash-box which reposed trustfully at the end of -my bed. Not that I could have got into it, for it was fastened with -the sort of padlock that I should put on park gates, and I certainly -couldn't have carried it away, at least not unbeknownst, for it was a -cube of at least eighteen inches. It gave me the idea of great wealth, -for never in my life do I expect to require a cash-box like that. If I -did I should give up story writing and grow old with a quiet mind. But -then I do not take my earnings in copper cash. - -[Illustration: 478] - -More and more as we went along the river was I reminded of my idea -of Babylon--Babylon with the romance taken out of it, Babylon grown -commonplace. At one place we stopped at, there came down to the ferry -a short fat man in blue, in a large straw hat, leading a donkey. But he -belonged to no age, he was Sancho Panza to the life. Again there came -a gentleman mounted on a mule, his servant following slowly on a small -grey donkey. He was nicely dressed in darkish petticoats, and his -servant wore the usual blue. They stood on the river-bank and the -servant hailed the ferry. With a little difficulty the beasts were got -on board and the boat poled across. It was just a wupan like my own, -decked in the middle so that the animals would not have to step down. -The donkey came off as if it were all in the day's work, but the -mule was obstinate, and it took the entire population of that little -crossing-place, including Tuan and my boatmen, to hoist him off. The -person most interested, the rider, never stirred a finger. True son -of Babylon was he. “Let the slaves see to all things,” I imagine him -saying. There was a little refreshment booth, and a man selling long -fingers of paste, or rather fried batter. My captain handled one -thoughtfully and then put it back. - -“Doesn't he like it?” I asked Tuan. It seemed to me so much nicer than -the pink radish. - -“She like,” said Tuan, “too much monies. Very dear,” and I think I could -have bought up the whole {340}stock in trade for twenty cents, about -fivepence, so the cash-box was a fraud after all. - -Now the hills had receded into the dim distance there were no more -rapids, and I was back on the great alluvial plain of Northern China -once more. The sun came out in all his glory, there were innumerable -boats, and the evening sunlight gleamed on their white sails. Many of -them were full of people, with many women amongst them, and Tuan told me -it was the Dragon Boat Festival. - -And then, as the evening shadows were falling, we came to the port of -Lanchou and my journey in a wupan was ended. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX--A RIVER PORT IN BABYLON - -{341} - -_The question of squeeze--Batter fingers for the boatmen--An array -of damp scarecrows--Ox carts--Prehistoric wheels--A decadent -people--Beggars--The playing of a part--A side show--Cumshaw._ - -|They tell me I must not talk about a river port in Babylon, because -Babylon was a city not a country, and it had no river port, but in that -valley of Mesopotamia there must have been in those old days, little -places where the people living along the banks landed their produce, or -gathered it in, and I think they must have resembled this river port of -Lanchou in Chihli, to which I came one still pleasant evening in June. - -The sun was on the point of setting, and I consulted Tuan about where I -should go for the night. The inns, he opined, would be full, for all the -country-side had come to the feast, and, in truth, I did not hanker much -after a Chinese inn. I infinitely preferred the wupan, even at its very -worst, when the rain was coming through the matting. I only wondered if -Tuan and the boatmen would think it extremely undignified of me to stay -where I was. The worst I knew there were the cockroaches, and Heaven -only knew what I might find in a Chinese inn in June. {342}Apparently -Tuan did not think it undignified, and the boatmen of course were glad. - -“You pay him one dollar,” suggested Tuan. Now a dollar is a thousand -cash, and a thousand cash, I suppose would about fill that money-box of -his. He got the dollar, because I paid it him myself, but what squeeze -Tuan extracted I am sure I don't know. Some he did get, I suppose as of -right, for squeeze seems to be the accepted fact in China. - -A woman once told me how she was offered squeeze and a good big squeeze -too. - -She was head of a hospital, and being an attractive young person, -she used to go out pretty often for motor drives with the locomotive -superintendent of the nearest railway. The Chinese took note of this, -as apparently they do of all things likely to concern them, and one day -there called upon her a Chinaman, well-dressed, of the better class. He -stood at the door of her sitting-room, shaking his own hands, and bowed -three times. - -“What do you want?” said she, for she had never to her knowledge, seen -him before. - -He spoke as good English, almost as she did herself, and he said, -well it was a little matter in which she might be of service to him, -and--yes--he of service to her. - -She looked at him in astonishment. “But I don't know you,” she said, -puzzled and surprised. - -It was a matter of oil, he said at last, when he got to the point. It -was well known that the engines required a great deal of oil, and he had -several thousands of tons of oil for sale. {343}“But what has that to do -with me?” asked the girl, more surprised than ever. - -He bowed again. “You are a great friend of ------” - -“But how do you know that?” - -“Oh pardon,” his hand on his heart, “Chinaman know everything. You can -help me.” - -“How?” she said still wondering. - -“You speak to Mr -------. He buy oil,” and he looked at her -ingratiatingly. - -She stared at him, hardly knowing whether to be angry or not. - -“I have nothing to do with the locomotives.” - -“Oh, but it will pay you,” said he, and from each side out of a -long pocket he drew two heavy bags, and planked them down on her -writing-table. Still she did not understand what he was driving at. - -“For you,” said he, “for a few words.” - -“Why, you are offering me squeeze,” said she indignantly, as the full -meaning of the thing flashed on her. - -He made a soothing sound with his mouth. “Everybody does it,” said he. - -“Indeed I don't.” - -“Not enough?” said he. “There is five hundred and fifty dollars there,” - and he looked at her questioningly. “Well,” thoughtfully, “I can make it -two hundred dollars more, I have much oil,” and down went another bag of -silver. More than six months' salary was on the table. - -“And suppose,” said she, curious, “Mr -------- pays no attention to me.” - -“That would be unfortunate,” with a low bow, “but I think not. I have -much oil. I take risk.” {344}Then she rose up wrathfully. “Take it -away,” she said, “take it away. How dare you offer me squeeze!” And he -did take it away, and as he probably knew her salary to the very last -penny, thought her a fool for her pains. - -I don't know whether Tuan extracted his squeeze beforehand, but I know -all three boatmen had the long fingers of batter fried in lard for -their breakfast the next morning, for I saw them having them, and Tuan -informed me with a grin, “Missie pay dollar. Can do,” and I was very -glad I had not patronised the Chinese inn. - -Of course I rose very early. Before half-past four I was up and dressed -and peeping out of my little tent at the rows and rows of boats that lay -double-banked against the shore. The sun got up as early as I did, and -most of those people in the boats were up before him. The boats were own -sisters to the one in which I had come down the river, with one mast, -and shelters in the middle, and all the people had suffered, as we had -done, from wet, for such a drying day I have never before seen. All the -sails of course had to be dried, all the mats, the dilapidated bedding, -and it seemed most of the clothing, for padded blue coats and trousers -were stuck on sticks, or laid out in the sun. All the scarecrows that -ever I had known, had apparently come to grief on that double-banked -row of boats. The banks were knee-deep in mud, but it was sandy mud that -soon dried, and by six o'clock business on that shore was in full swing. -There was a theatre and fair going on close at hand, but business had to -be attended to all the same. These boatmen all still wear the queue, -so the barber was very busy, as it is of course impossible to shave on -board a boat, and even the immaculate Tuan had a fine crop of bristles -all over his head. They were gone before he gave me breakfast this -morning. The alluvial mud of the shore was cut into deep cart ruts, and -there were any number of carts coming down to the boats and going away -from them. There were ox carts with a solitary ox, harnessed much as -a horse would be and looking strange to me, accustomed to the bullock -drays of Australia with their bullocks, ten or twenty of them drawing -by a single wooden yoke, there were mule carts and carts heavy with -merchandise drawn by a mixed team of mule, ox, and the small and patient -donkey, and the people took from the boats their loading of grain, grown -far away in Mongolia, of stones, gathered by the river-bank, water-worn -stones used for making the picturesque garden and courtyard paths the -Chinese love, and even sometimes for building, and of osiers, grown -up in the mountains. There were piles and piles of these, and men were -carrying them slung on the ends of their bamboos. And the boats, for -the return journey were loaded, as far as I could see, with salt and the -thin tissue paper they use everywhere for the windows, it is much more -portable than glass, and cotton stuffs, such as even the poorest up in -the mountains must buy for their clothing. And because it was the Dragon -Boat Feast, I suppose, many of the boats were full of passengers, people -who had started thus early to make a day of it, innumerable small-footed -women and small, shavenheaded children, what little there was left of -their hair done up in tiny plaits, that stood straight out on end. And -all had on their best clothing. Even {346}the gentleman whose picture -I have taken standing under a tree had on a new hat of the brightest -yellow matting, and I wondered whether the poorer folk who thronged -the river-side in Mesopotamia, so many long centuries ago, were not -something like him. The only thing that was modern was the railway -station and rolling stock, just behind the river-side town, and the -great iron bridge that spans the river. Modern civilisation come to -Babylon. It has barely touched the surface though of this age-old -civilisation. The people who came crowding into the feast came in carts -with heavy wooden wheels, Punch's prehistoric wheels, exactly as their -ancestors came, possibly three thousand years ago, and the carts were -drawn by mules, by oxen, by donkeys, and were covered, some with the -ordinary blue cloth, some with grass matting, and sometimes, when they -were open, the women carried umbrellas of Chinese oiled paper, with here -and there one of ordinary European pattern. And the carts were packed -very close together indeed, for there were numberless women, and the -majority of them could only just totter along. For them to walk far or -for long, would be a sheer impossibility. Country people? No, again I -saw it strongly, these were serfs, perhaps, but not country people, they -were a highly civilised people, far more highly civilised than I am who -sit in judgment, so civilised that they were decadent, effete, and every -woman was helpless! - -They crowded round the theatricals that were going on there in the open, -and all the stalls were crowded together round them too. These sellers -cannot afford to spread themselves out when half of {347}the likely -buyers must needs be stationary. Never have I seen so many Chinese women -of the well-to-do class together before. They wore their gayest silks -and satins and embroidered coats, their hair was elaborately dressed and -decked with flowers, their faces were painted and powdered, and usually -there was on them the faintest of impassive smiles. Poor women of modern -Babylon, maimed and crippled! It was rather a relief to look at the -beggars, and there were many of them, who, clad in sacking and filthy -rags, with wild black hair, beat their foreheads in the dust, and made -loud moan of their sufferings. Everyone plays his part properly in -China. It is the beggars' to make loud moan, it is the women's to give -no hint of the cruel suffering that has made childhood and youth a -torture, and left the dreadful aftermath behind it. - -[Illustration: 0488] - -I had plenty of time to see everything, for the train was not due till -eleven, and when it grew too hot to stay in the open any longer, I went -on to the platform and sat in the shade, and formed a sort of side show -to the fair, for so many people crowded round to look at the foreign -woman, and they had more than what a servant of one of my friends called -“a littee stink,” that at last the station policeman, who was really a -soldier guarding the line, came and cleared them away drastically -with drawn sword, and I explained, as best I could, that on this great -occasion, I hadn't the least objection to being a show, for very likely -many of these people had come from beyond the beaten tracks, from places -where foreigners were scarce, but I must have sufficient air. - -Tuan got the tickets, and then I suppose, seeing his time was short, for -we should be in Peking by seven, and should certainly part, he relieved -his mind and asked a question that had evidently been burning there ever -since we had left the mission station. - -“Missie have pay mission boys _cumshaw?_” - -Now the _cumshaw_ had been a difficulty. - -My hostess had come to me and said: “I know you are going to give a -_cumshaw_. I may as well tell you that if our visitors don't we always -do ourselves, because the servants expect it, but I am come to beg of -you not to give too much and to give it through us. In fact the cook -went for his holiday last night and we gave him eighty cents and said it -was from you.” - -“Eighty cents!” I was afraid those servants would think me very mean. -But my hostess was very fluent on the subject, and very determined. The -majority of their visitors could not possibly afford to give much, and -they were very anxious not to establish a precedent. What was I to do? I -might have supplemented it through Tuan, but I felt it would be making -a poor return to the people who had been so kind to me, so I was obliged -to let it go at that. - -“I pay Missie, she give _cumshaw_ for me,” said I to Tuan. - -“Ah!” said that worthy, as if he had settled a doubt satisfactorily in -his own mind, “boy say Missie pay eighty cent, I say, not my Missie, she -give five, ten dollar, always give five, ten dollar, your Missie give -eighty cent!” - -And as I went on my way to Peking, across the plain in its summer dress -of lush green kaoliang, I wondered sorrowfully if all the return I had -made for the kindness received was to have those missionaries accused of -pocketing the _cumshaw_ I was supposed to have given. - -But I was glad to come back, glad not to think any more of the Chinaman -as a creature whose soul had to be saved, glad to come back to my -ordinary associates who were ordinarily worldly and selfish, and -felt that they might drink a whisky-and-soda and consider their own -enjoyment, though there were a few hundred million people in outer -darkness around them. The majority of us cannot live in the rarefied -atmosphere that demands constant sacrifice and abnegation for the sake -of those we do not and cannot love. - - - - -CHAPTER XX--THE WAYS OF THE CHINESE SERVANT - -{350} - -_The heat of Peking---The wall by moonlight--Tongshan--“Your devoted -milkman”--The eye of the mistress--A little fort--In case of an -outbreak--The Temple of the Sleeping Buddha--A runaway bride--The San -Shan An--My own temple courtyard--The missing outfit--The Language -Officer--Friends in need._ - -|It was David, I think, who said in his haste, that all men are liars, -but I suppose he was right, if he meant as he probably did, that at one -time or another, we are all of us given to making rash statements. I -expect it would be a rash statement to say that Peking in the summer is -the hottest place in the world, and that the heat of West Africa, that -much-maligned land, is nothing to it, and yet, even when I think over -the matter at my leisure, I know that the heat, for about six weeks, -is something very hard to bear. I suspect it is living in a stone house -inside the city walls that makes it so hot. Could I have slept in the -open I might have taken a different view. I slept, or rather I did not -sleep, with two windows wide open, and an electric fan going, but, since -Peking mosquitoes are of the very aggressive order, bred in the imperial -canal, the great open drain that runs through the city, it was always -necessary to keep the mosquito curtains drawn. If anyone doubts that -a house with mosquito-proof {351}windows and doors is an airless -death-trap, let him try and sleep under mosquito curtains, while hoping -for a breath of cool air from the electric fan. Fully half the air is -cut off, but as the mosquito curtains are raised during the daytime, the -air over the bed is renewed daily. In that abomination a mosquito-proof -house, it is never renewed. - -Since it was a choice between little air and plenty of mosquitoes. I -chose the shortage of air, and generally went to bed with a deep soup -plate full of cold water, and a large sponge. It made the bed decidedly -wet, but that was an advantage. - -I did not go away because the war had started between the North and the -South, and no one knew exactly what was going to happen. To be at the -heart of things is often to be too close, wiser eyes than mine saw -nothing. Once there was a rumour that the Southern army would march on -Peking, and that promised excitement, but in the city itself, though -there was martial law, there was no excitement, and the only pleasant -thing to do was to go on moonlight evenings and sit on the wall. There -was a cool breath of air there, if there was anywhere, and at any rate -the moonlight lent it a glamour, and the fireflies, that came out after -the rain, gave the added touch that made it fairyland. - -But at last the heat was too much even for me, who am not wont to -complain of whatever sort of weather is doled out to me, and I accepted -the invitation of a friend to stay at Tongshan, which is a great railway -centre, a place where there is a coal mine, and some large cement works -run by capable and efficient Germans. - -And at Tongshan I lived in the house that was {352}held for defence -during the Boxer trouble. The barrier at the gate--the barrier that is -at the gate of all Chinese houses, to keep off evil spirits, who can -only move in a straight line--was so curious that I took a photograph -of it, and against the walls that surround the grounds were the look-out -places which the railwaymen manned, and from which they kept watch and -ward. - -I have always liked the feeling of living in a fort--a place where men -have helped to make history, but I have observed that it is always -the immediate trifle that is to the fore that counts, and my friend's -servants were a perpetual joy and delight to me. They used to write -her letters. There was one, a touching one, from the milkman I shall -remember with joy. A “cunningful” cook had misrepresented him, and he -wished to be taken into favour again, and he signed himself distractedly -“Your devoted milkman.” The cow was brought round so that it might be -milked before the eyes of the buyer, and only a Chinaman, surely, would -have been capable of concealing a bottle of water up his sleeves and -letting it run slowly down his arm as he milked, so that the cow was -unjustly accused of giving very poor milk. Besides, when the cow's -character was cleared, who knew from where that water had been taken, -and how much dirt it had washed off the arm down which it ran. No -pleading took that milkman into favour again, despite the tenderness -expressed in his signature. Another man had been away, and returning, -wished a small job as watchman at six dollars a month, and begging for -it by letter, he signed himself fervently “Your own Ah Foo.” But the -crowning boy was the No. 1 boy. He was a {353}delicious person without -intending it. When first my friend engaged him, she acquired at the same -time a small dog, and she soon realised that the rigorous Chinese winter -was hard on dogs, and that Ben must have a little coat. The question was -how to make the coat. No. 1 boy came to the rescue. - -Mr ------ at the railway station had a dog, and “Marcus,” said the boy, -“have two coats.” - -“Oh well borrow one and copy it,” said his mistress, relieved. - -“My tink,” said the boy confidentially, and he sank his voice, “Missie -bolly, more better not send back.” And he looked at her to see if this -wisdom would sink in. - -“Boy!” - -“Marcus have two coats,” repeated he reproachfully. - -[Illustration: 0496] - -The owner of Marcus, on the story being told to him, when the coat was -borrowed with every assurance it should be returned, admitted that if -occasionally he saw among his accounts a coat for Marcus he always paid -for it, and supposed the old one had worn out. Thinking it over, he -thought perhaps he had supplied a friend or two, or more possibly his -friends' servants. No. 1 boy made a mistake in taking his mistress into -his confidence, instead of charging her for “one piecey dog coat.” - -But, of course that is the trouble with Missies, as compared with -Masters, they have such inquiring minds. There was once a man of violent -temper who was in the habit of letting off steam on his No. 1 boy. He -abused him roundly, and even beat him whenever he felt out of sorts, yet -greatly to the surprise of all his friends, the boy put up with him, and -made him a very excellent servant. Presently he married, and then, much -to his surprise, before a month was out the boy, who had been faithful -and long-suffering for so long, came and gave notice. - -“But why?” asked the astonished man. - -“Master beat,” said the boy laconically. - -“D----n it,” said the man, “I've beaten you a dozen times before. Why -do you complain now?” - -“Before time,” explained the boy solemnly, “when Master beat, my put -down one dollar, sugar, one dollar flour. Now Missie come, no can. My -go.” - -He did not mind a beating so long as he could make his master pay for -it, but when an inquiring mistress questioned these little items for -groceries that she knew had never been used, he gave up the place, he -could no longer get even with his master. It was a truly Chinese way of -looking at things. - -These were some of the stories they told me in the house they had -fortified against the Boxers and held till the ships sent them a guard. -And once the sailors came there was no more danger, It was the luckless -country people who feared. The older men pitied and understood the -situation, but the mischievous young midshipmen took a fearful joy in -scaring the problematical enemy. - -“Who goes there?” - -“Belong my,” answered the shivering coolie, endeavouring to slip past, -and in deadly terror that the pointed rifle would go off. They were -ground between two millstones those unfortunate peasants. The Boxers -harried them, and then the foreigners came and avenged their wrongs on -these who had done probably no harm. Always it is these helpless serfs -who suffer in case of war. Other classes may suffer--these are sure to. - -They will never hold this house again should necessity arise, for the -well that gave them water has gone dry. - -Of course everyone hopes and says, that the necessity never will arise -again but for all that, they are not, the foreign settlers in China, -quite as certain of their safety as one would be in a country town in -England, for instance. They came in to afternoon tea and tennis, men -and women, and they gave all attention to the amusement in hand, a -lighthearted, cheerful set of people, and then one little speech and one -saw there was another side. There was always the _might be_. Everything -was going on as usual, everywhere around were peaceable, subservient -people, and yet--and yet terrible things had happened in the past, -who could say if they would not happen again. Every now and again, not -dominating the conversation, but running a subcurrent to it, would -come up the topic of the preparations they had made in case of “another -outbreak.” - -One woman kept a box of clothes at Tientsin. - -“I wonder you don't,” she said looking at her hostess. “No, my dear, -don't you remember yet, I never take sugar. Thank you. You ought to -think about it, you know. It is really so awkward if one has to rush -away in a hurry to find oneself without clothes.” - -Another woman laughed, and yet she was very much in earnest. - -“That's not the first thing to worry about. There, that was vantage to -them,” she interpolated, taking an interest in the game of tennis, “that -young {356}woman's going to make a nice little player. No, what I think -is that the place they have chosen to hold is far too far away. Want -your clothes in Tientsin? I'm not at all sure you'll get over that mile -and a half from your house in safety, and I've farther still to go, -with two little children too. Why don't you get your husband to------ Oh -there they've finished! Now have I time for another set?” - -“It's after six.” - -“Good gracious! And baby to bath! I must go. You speak to your husband -about another place, my dear. He'll have some influence.” - -“No, I wouldn't try to hold any place again,” said my host, thinking -of the past, “I should be on the train and off to Tientsin at the first -hint of danger.” - -“But suppose you couldn't get away in time?” - -“Well, of course, that's possible,” he said thoughtfully, “and the -Chinese are beggars at pulling up railways.” - -I listened, and then I understood how people get used to contemplating a -danger that is only possible, and not actually impending. - -“If anything happens to Yuan Shih K'ai,” but then, of course, though -that is not only a possible, but even a probable danger, everyone hopes -that nothing will happen to Yuan Shih K'ai, just as if anything did -happen to him, they would hope things would not be as bad as they had -feared, and if their worst fears were realised, then they would hope -that they would be the lucky ones who would not be overwhelmed. This -is human nature, at least one side of human nature, the side of human -nature that has made of the British a great colonising people. The -autumn was coming, the golden, glowing {357}autumn of Northern China, -so, coming back to Peking, I determined to find out some place where I -could enjoy its beauties and write the book which my publisher expected. -Most people seem to think that the writing of a book is a mere question -of plenty of time, a good pen, paper, and ink. “You press the button, we -do the rest,” promises a certain firm that makes cameras; but I do not -find either writing or taking photographs quite so simple a matter as -all that. To do either, even as well as I can, I want to be by myself, -for I am a sociable being, I do love the society of my kind, to talk to -them, to exchange ideas with them, and when I am doing that, I cannot -give the time and attention it requires to writing. Everyone who writes -in China, and anyone who writes at all is moved to take pen in hand -to try and elucidate its mysteries, wants to write in a temple in the -Western Hills. I was no exception to the rule. The Western Hills, whose -rugged outlines you can see from Peking, called me, and I set out -to look for a temple. It was going to be easy enough to get one, for -“Legation” Peking goes to the hills in the summer, and when autumn holds -the land goes back to the joys of city life. - -The first I inspected was the Temple of the Sleeping Buddha, a temple -which has many courtyards, and a figure of the Buddha, peacefully -sleeping. An emblem of peace looks the great bronze figure. He is, of -course, represented clothed, only his feet are bare, and the faithful -bring him offerings of shoes, rows and rows of shoes there were on a -shelf at the side of the temple, some colossal, three or four feet long, -and some tiny, some made after the fashion of the ordinary Chinese shoe, -of silk or {358}quilted satin, but some make-believe, and very excellent -make-believe, of paper. Looking at them I could not have told the -difference, and as the Buddha's eyes are shut, he could not even go -as far as that. He certainly could not put them on, for his feet are -pressed closely together, the feet of a profoundly sleeping man. All is -peace here. Here there is no trouble, no anxiety, that sleeping figure -seems to say. - -But there was for all that. Where in the world is there no trouble? - -[Illustration: 0504] - -It takes about three and a half hours to reach the Sleeping Buddha -Temple from Peking. First I took a rickshaw across the city. Then from -the northwest gate, the Hsi Chih Men, still by rickshaw, I went to the -Summer Palace, and I did the remaining five miles into the heart of the -hills on a donkey. I don't like riding a donkey, five miles on a donkey -on an uncomfortable Chinese saddle, riding astride, wearies me to death, -and when I was just thinking life was no longer worth living I arrived, -and wandered into a courtyard where, at the head of some steps, stood a -little Chinese girl. She was dressed in the usual dress of a girl of the -better classes, a coat and trousers, like a man usually wears with us, -only the coat had a high collar standing up against her cheeks, and -because she was unmarried, she wore her hair simply drawn back from -her face and plaited in a long tail down her back, much as an English -schoolgirl wears it. She made me a pretty, shy salutation, and called to -her friend the Englishwoman, who had rented the courtyard, and who -was living here while she painted pictures. This lady was returning -to Peking she said, next day, but she {359}very kindly invited me to -luncheon, and she told me the Chinese girl's story. She was practically -in hiding. She had been betrothed, of course, years before to some boy -she had never seen, and this year the time had arrived for the carrying -out of the contract. But young China is beginning to think it has rights -and objects to being disposed of in marriage without even a chance to -protest. It would not be much good the boy running away, however much -he objected to the matrimonial plans his family had made for him, for he -could be married quite easily in his absence, a cock taking his place; -but it beats even the Chinese to have a marriage without a bride, -therefore the girl had run away. The time was past and the contract had -not been carried out. Poor little girl! It surprised me that so shy and -quiet a little girl had found courage to defy authority and run away, -even though she had found out that her betrothed was as averse from the -marriage as she was. She had unbound her feet, as if to signalise her -freedom; but alas, the arch of her foot was broken, and she could never -hope to be anything but flat-footed, still that was better than walking -with stiff knees, on her heels, as if her legs were a couple of wooden -pegs like the majority of her fellow-countrywomen. The woman who was -befriending her suggested, as I was taking a temple in the hills, I -should give her sanctuary. That was all very well, but the care of -a helpless being, like a Chinese girl, is rather an undertaking. I -consulted a friend who had been in China many years, and he was emphatic -on the subject. - -“No, no, no. Never have anything to do with a woman in China until -she is well over forty. You {360}don't know the trouble you will let -yourself in for. Chinese women!” And he held up his hands. So it appears -that the secluded life does not make them all that they ought to be. - -However, while I was considering the matter, some woman in Peking, -kinder and less cautious than I, stepped in and the little girl has -found an asylum, and is, I am assured by a friend, all right, and better -off than hundreds of her people. True she easily might be that, and yet -not have attained to much. - -I always seem to be talking of the condition of the Chinese women, like -King Charles's head, it comes into everything. After all, the condition -and status of half the nation must be always cropping up when one -considers the people at all. “Chinese women,” said a man, “are -past-mistresses in false modesty.” And again I thought what a commentary -on a nation. To Western eyes how it marks the subjection and the -ignorance of the women. - -When the first baby is coming, the bride is supposed, though it would be -a tragedy beyond all words if she had no children, to be too shy to tell -her husband, or even her mother-in-law, so she puts on bracelets, and -then the family know that this woman, at least, is about to fulfil her -destiny. I hope the little Chinese girl I found up in the Temple of the -Sleeping Buddha will yet marry, marry someone she chooses herself, will -not need to pluck out the front hairs on her forehead, and will be on -such terms with her husband, that though she may with pride put on the -bracelets, she may rejoice openly that their love is crowned. I do not -think there will be any false modesty about her. {361}But I did not take -a courtyard in the Sleeping Buddha Temple. It was rented by the Y.M.C.A. -and I think that, combined with the donkey ride, put me off. I felt -I would rather go farther afield, farther away from the traces of the -foreigner, and I could have my pick of temples in September. I took the -San Shan An, in another valley, one of the lovely valleys of the world. - -The San Shan An is only a small temple with a central courtyard and -two or three smaller ones, and I agreed to take it for the sum of -twenty-eight dollars a month. I engaged a cook and a boy, the boy's -English was scanty and the cook had none, but I only paid the two -twenty-four dollars a month, six dollars less than the valued Tuan had -all to himself, and one day in September I saw my household gods on to -two carts, went myself by train, and got out at the first station at the -Western Hills. - -I had taken the precaution, as I had no Chinese, and I did not expect -to meet anybody who understood English, to have the name of the temple -written out in Chinese characters, and descending from the train, after -a little trouble I found one among the wondering crowd who could read, -and all that crowd, a dirty little crowd, took an interest in my further -movements. They immediately supplied me with donkeys and boys to choose -from, and I had the greatest difficulty in explaining that I did not -want a donkey, all I wanted was a guide. The only one who seemed to -grasp it was a very ragged individual who, with basket under his -arm, and scoop in hand, was gathering manure. He promptly seized my -dispatch-box, all the luggage I carried, and we started, pursued by -disappointed boys with donkeys, {362}who could not believe that the -foreign woman was actually going to walk in the wake of a man who -gathered manure. I must confess it was a most humble procession, even in -my eyes, who am not accustomed to standing on my dignity. My only sister -had given me that dispatch-case as a parting present, and it looked -wonderfully rich and cultured in the very grimy hand that grasped it -so triumphantly. I should never have had the heart to turn that old -man away, he looked so pleased at having got a job. Off he went, and -we walked for over an hour across a flat and rough country, where the -kaoliang had been gathered on to the threshing floors, and all the -people this gorgeous hot autumn day were at work there. - -A threshing floor in the East makes one think of Ruth and Boaz, and -possibly these people were not unlike those who worked on that threshing -floor in Judah so long ago, only they were dirty and poor, and not -comely as we picture the Moabitish beauty. It was hot as we walked, and -I grew a little doubtful as we approached the hills--were we going in -the right direction. - -“San Shan Erh,” said my guide, and he repeated it, and I grew more -doubtful, for I did not know then that these hill people say, “San Shan -Erh” where a more cultivated man would say “San Shan An,” it is -very Pekingese to have many “r's” to roll. He combined business with -pleasure, or rather he combined his business, and whenever he came -across a patch of manure, he gathered it in, and I waited patiently. At -last we came to the entrance of a well-wooded valley, and a well-wooded -valley is a precious thing in China, and we went up a roughly -{363}flagged pathway, flagged, I dare say, a couple of hundred years ago -or more, a steep pathway by a graveyard, and between the trees that were -just taking on a tinge of autumn gold, we arrived at a plateau built -up with stones, and along beneath some trees we entered a gate and -came into a square brick paved courtyard surrounded by low, one-storied -buildings, and with four pine-trees raising their dark green branches -against the deep blue sky. I had seen so many temple courtyards, and -now here was one, that for a space, was to be my very own. In China, -it seems, the gods always make preparation for taking in guests--at a -price. - -[Illustration: 0510] - -But was this my temple? - -My heart sank, as for a moment I realised what a foolish thing I had -done. I had supposed, after my usual fashion, that everything would go -smoothly for me, and now at the very outset, things were going wrong, -and I knew I was helpless. Two men in blue, of the coolie class, old, -and very, very dirty, looked at me, and talked unintelligibly to my -guide, and he, very intelligibly, demanded his _cumshaw_, but there was -no sign of my possessions. - -For the moment I feared, feared greatly, I was entirely alone, what -might not happen to me? I might not even have been brought to the right -temple, for all I knew. In bridge, when doubtful they say play to win, -so I decided I must act as if everything was all right, and I paid my -guide his _cumshaw_, saw him go, and not quite as happy as I should have -liked to have been, inspected the temple. There was one big room that I -decided would do me for a living-room, if this were really my temple, as -it had a sort of little veranda or {364}look-out place, which stood out -on the cliff side overlooking the place of tombs, and the plain where in -the distance, about twelve miles as the crow flies, I could see in the -clear atmosphere the walls of Peking. They might as well have been a -hundred, I thought ruefully, for all the help I was likely to get from -that city to-night, if this were not really my temple. - -A Chinese temple is sparsely furnished. All the rooms had stone floors, -all of them opened into the courtyard and not into one another, and for -all furniture there were the usual k'angs, two cupboards, three tables, -and three uncomfortable Chinese chairs. I had hired an easy chair, a -lamp, and with my camp outfit I expected to manage. But where was my -camp outfit? - -I could not understand a word of what the people said, but they seemed -friendly, they well might be, I thought, I was entirely at their mercy, -and a very dirty old gentleman with claw-like hands, an unshaven head, -and the minutest of queues came and contemplated me in a way which was -decidedly disconcerting. I went and looked at the gods, dusty and dirty -too in their sanctuaries. There was a most musical bell alongside one of -them and when I struck it, the clang seemed to emphasise my loneliness -and helplessness. Could this be the right temple? If it was not where -was I to go? There was no means of getting back to Peking, short of -walking, even then the gates must be shut long before I arrived. As far -as I knew, there was no foreigner left in the hills. I went on to the -look-out place, and looked out over the plain, and the old man came and -looked at me, and I grew more and more uncomfortable. {365}Tiffin time -was long past, afternoon tea time came and went. It had been warm enough -in the middle of the day, but the evenings grow chill towards the end of -September, and I had only a white muslin gown on. At the very best the -prospect of sleeping on one of those cold and stony k'angs did not look -inviting. I could have cried as the shadows grew long and the sun set. - -And then, oh joy, down beneath me, out on the hill-side, I heard a -voice, an unmistakable American voice. I had been terrified, and like a -flash my terrors rolled away. I looked over and there were a man and a -woman taking an evening stroll, very much at home, for neither of them -had on a hat. I forgot in a moment I had been afraid and I hailed them -at once. - -“Is this the San Shan An?” - -“Sure,” said the man as they looked up in surprise. - -Well, that was a relief anyhow, and I thought how foolish I had been to -be afraid. But where were the carts? - -The stranger said they ought to have arrived hours ago, and then they -bid me good-bye, and I waited once more. I was uncomfortable now--I -was no longer afraid. At least not till it grew dark, and then, I must -confess, the place seemed to me strangely eerie. The sun was set, -the moon was old, and not due till the morning, the faint wind moaned -through the pine-branches, and the darkness was full of all sorts of -strange, mysterious, unexplainable sounds. It was cold, cold, and the -morning and the light were a good eleven hours off. - -Then, just as I was in the depths of despair, there {366}was a commotion -in the courtyard, a lantern flashed on the trunks of the pine-trees, and -a kindly American voice out of the darkness said: - -“I thought I had better come down and see if your outfit had turned up.” - -“There is not a sign of it.” I wonder if there was relief in my voice. - -“No, so the people here tell me, and they are in rather a way about -you.” - -So that was why the dirty old gentleman had apparently been stalking me. -It had never occurred to me that these people could be troubled about -me, this was a new and kindly light on Chinese character. - -“Perhaps you'll come along with me,” went on my new friend. “I've got -two ladies staying with me from Tientsin, and they'll do the best they -can for you for the night.” - -Bless him, bless him, I could have hugged him. Go, of course I went -thankfully, and with his lantern, he guided me over the steepest and -roughest of mountain paths till we came to his temple, a much bigger one -than mine. - -“I thought there was no one left in the hills,” I said as we went along. - -“I'm going next week,” he said, “but I love this valley. There is only -one lovelier in the world--the one I was born in.” - -“And where is that?” - -“The Delaware Valley. These people,” he went on, “are mightily relieved -to hear I am going to keep you for the night.” - -Again I thanked him, and indeed he and his friends were friends in -need. “And I cannot make them understand like you do,” I said a little -futilely. {367}“Well, I ought to,” he laughed. “I'm the Language -Officer.” - -He decided my carts had had time to come from Peking and go back again, -and they must have gone up the wrong valley, and he and his friends took -me in and fed me, and comforted me, so that I was ready to laugh at my -woes, and then, just as we were finishing an excellent dinner, there -appeared on the terrace, where we were dining, an agitated individual -with a guttering candle, my boy, whom I hardly knew by sight yet. - -He told a tale of woe and suffering. According to him, the road to Jehol -must have been nothing to that road from Peking to the Western Hills, -and I and my new friends went down to inspect what was left of my -outfit. There wasn't much in it that was smashable, and beyond salad oil -in the bread and kerosene in the salt, there was not much damage done. -I could not understand though how they had come to grief at all, for -the loads were certainly light for two carts, and once in the hills, of -course, the goods were carried by men. And then the truth dawned on me. -It was the way of a Chinese servant all over. I had been foolish enough -to give my boy the five dollars to pay for the two carts. He had made -one do, and pocketed two dollars fifty cents. I asked him if such were -not the case. - -“Yes, sah,” said he, and I wondered, till I found that he always said -“Yes, sah,” whether he understood me or not. More often than not he did -not understand, but that “sah” made me understand he had learned his -little English from a countryman of my friend, the Language Officer. - -And after all I think I was glad of the little adventure. I had not -realised how eerie a temple would be all by myself at night, and it was -good to think that for a night or two at least there would be people of -my own colour within a quarter of an hour of me on the hill-side. - -[Illustration: 0518] - - - - - -CHAPTER XXI--FROM THE SAN SHAN AN - -{369} - -_An old temple--Haunted--Wolf with green eyes--Loneliness--Death -of missionaries--Fear--Sanctuaries--“James Buchanan”--Valiant -farmers--Autumn tints--Famous priest--Sacrifice of disciples--Tree -conserving--Camels at my gate--Servants--“Cook book”--Enchanted -hills--Cricket cages--Kindly people--The fall of Belshazzar--Hope for -the future._ - -|And with two servants and the temple coolies to wait upon me I settled -down in the San Shan An, the Temple of the Three Mountains, the oldest -temple in this valley of temples, built long ago in the Sung Dynasty. -They said it was haunted, haunted by the ghost of a big snake, and when -the mud from the roof fell as so much dust on the stone floor, and over -me, my tables and chairs and bed, my boy stretched out his arms and -explained that the snake had done it. The snake, I found, always -accounted for dust. When my jam and butter disappeared, and -I suspected human agency, he said in his pidgin-English, -“I tink--I tink----” and then words failed him, and he broke out into -spelling, “I tink it R--A--T.” Why he could spell that word and not -pronounce it I do not know, but until I left I did not know that the -snake that lived in my roof was supernatural. I don't think even I could -be afraid of the ghost of a snake. The temple up above, the Language -{370}Officer's temple, was haunted by a wolf with green eyes, and that -would have been a different matter. I am glad I did not dare the wolf -with green eyes. For I was all by myself. The Language Officer, the -Good Samaritan, went back to Peking, and, except at week-ends, when I -persuaded a friend or two to dissipate my loneliness, I was the only -foreigner in the valley. Go back to Peking until the work I had set -myself to do was done, I determined I would not. It has been a curious -and lonely existence away in the hills, in the little temple embosomed -in trees, among a people who speak not a word of my language; but it had -its charm. I had my camp-bed set up on the little platform looking out -over the place of tombs, with the great Peking plain beyond, and there, -while the weather was warm, I had all my meals, and there, warm or cold, -I always slept. When the evening shadows fell I was lonely, I was worse -than lonely, all that I had missed in life came crowding before my eyes, -all the years seemed empty, wasted, all the future hopeless, and I went -to bed and tried to sleep, if only to forget. - -And China is not a good place in which to try the lonely life. There are -too many tragic histories associated with it, and one is apt to remember -them at the wrong times. Was I afraid at night? I was, I think, a -little, but then I am so often afraid, and so often my fears are false, -that I have learned not to pay much attention to them. I knew very well -that the Legations would not have allowed me, without a word of warning, -to take a temple in the hills, had there been any likelihood of danger, -but still, when the evening shadows fell, I could not but remember -{371}once again, Sir Robert Hart's dictum, and that if anything did -happen, I was cut off here from all my kind. It was just Fear, the Fear -that one personifies, but another time, if I elect to live by myself -among an alien people, I do not think I will improve my mind by reading -first any account of the atrocities those people have perpetrated at -no very remote period. As the darkness fell I was apt to start and look -over my shoulder at any unexplainable sound, to remember these things -and to hope they would not happen again, which is first cousin to -fearing they would. At Pao Ting Fu, not far from here as distances -in China go, during the Boxer trouble, the Boxers attacked the -missionaries, both in the north and the south suburb, just outside the -walls of the town. In the north suburb the Boxers and their following -burned those missionaries to death in their houses, because they would -not come out. They dared not. Think how they must have feared, those -men and women in the prime of their life, when they stayed and faced -a cruel death from which there was no escape, rather than chance the -mercies of the mob outside. One woman prayed them to save her baby girl, -her little, tender Margaret, not a year old, her they might kill, and -her husband, and her two little boys, but would no one take pity on the -baby, the baby that as yet could not speak. But though many of those who -heard her prayer and repeated it, pitied, they did not dare help. It -is a notable Chinese characteristic--obedience to orders--and the -lookers-on thought that those in authority having ordered the slaughter -of the missionaries it was not their part to interfere. They told -afterwards how, as a brute rushed up the {372}stairs, the mother, -desperate, seized a pistol that lay to her hand and shot him. I am -always glad she did that. And others told, how, through the mounting -flames, they could see her husband walking up and down, leading his two -little boys by the hand, telling them--ah, what could any man say under -such terrible circumstances as that. - -And in the south suburb the missionary doctor was true almost to the -letter of the faith he preached. As the mob surrounded him, he took a -revolver, showed them how perfect was his command over the weapon, how -he could have dealt death right and left, and then he tossed it aside -and submitted to their wicked will, and they took him and cut off his -head. But the fate of the women always horrified me most. It was that -that seemed most terrible in the dusk of the evening. They took two of -the unmarried women, and one was too terrified to walk--having once seen -a Chinese crowd, filthy, horrible and always filthy and horrible even -when they are friendly, one realises what it must be to be in their -power, one understands that girl's shrinking terror. Her they tied, -hands and feet together, and slung her from a pole, exactly as they -carry pigs to market. Is this too terrible a thing to write down for -everyone to read? It almost seems to me it is. If so forgive me. I used -to think about it those evenings alone in the San Shan An. And one of -those women, they say, was always brave, and gave to a little child her -last little bit of money as she walked to her death, and the other, who -was so terrified at first, recovered herself, and walked courageously as -they led her to execution outside the city walls. - -When I thought of those women I was ashamed [373]of the Fear that made -me afraid to look behind me in the dark, made me listen intently for -unusual sounds, and hear a thousand unexplainable ones. I, in the broad -daylight, went and looked in the two sanctuaries that were at each end -of my courtyard, each with an image and altar in it. In both were -stored great matting bundles of Spanish chestnuts, and in the larger, -oh sacrilege! oh bathos! was my larder, and I saw eggs, and meat, and -cabbage, and onions, coming out of it, but I do not think anything could -have induced me to go into those places after nightfall. I ask myself -why--I wonder--but I find no answer. The gods were only images, the dust -and dirt of long years was upon them, they were dead, dead, and yet I, -the most modern of women was afraid--at night I was afraid, the fear -that seems to grow up with us all was upon me. By and by a friend sent -me out “James Buchanan”--a small black and white k'ang dog, about six -inches high, but his importance must by no means be measured by his -size. I owe much gratitude to James Buchanan for he is a most cheerful -and intelligent companion. I intended to part with him when I left the -hills, but I made him love me, and then to my surprise, I found I loved -him, and he must share my varying fortunes. But what is a wandering -woman, like I am, to do with a little dog? - -[Illustration: 0524] - -We went for walks together up and down the hill-sides, and the people -got to know us, and laughed and nodded as we passed. The Chinese seem -fond of animals, and yet you never see a man out for a walk with his -dog. A man with a bird-cage in his hand, taking birdie for a walk, is a -common {374}sight in China, so common that you forget to notice it, -but I have never seen a man followed by a dog, though most of the -farm-houses appear to have one or two to guard them. Here, in the hills, -they were just the ordinary, ugly _wonks_ one sees in Peking, not nearly -such handsome beasts as I saw up in the mountains. The farms in these -hills evidently require a good deal of guarding, for I would often hear -the crack of a gun. Some farmer, so my friend, the Language Officer, -told me, letting the “stealer man,” and anyone else whom it might -concern, know that he had fire-arms and was prepared to use them. At -first the reports used to startle me, and make me look out into the -darkness of the hill-side, darkness deepened here and there by a tiny -light, and I used to wonder if anything was wrong. “Buchanan” always -regarded those reports as entirely out of place, and said so at the -top of his small voice. But then he was always challenging _wonks_, or -finding “stealer men,” so I paid no attention to him. - -At the first red streak of dawn, for the temple faced the east, I -wakened. And all my fears, the dim, mysterious, unexplainable fears born -of the night, and the loneliness, and the old temple, were gone, rolled -away with the darkness. The crescent moon and the jewelled stars paled -before the sun, rising in a glory of purple and gold, a glory that -brightened to crimson, the pungent, aromatic fragrance of the pines and -firs came to my nostrils, their branches were outlined against the deep -blue of the sky, and I realised gradually that another blue day had -dawned and the world was not empty, but full of the most wonderful -possibilities waiting but to be grasped. Oh those dawnings in the San -Shan An! Those dawnings after a night in the open air! Never shall I -forget them! - -And the valley was lovely that autumn weather. Day after day, day after -day, was the golden sunshine, the clear, deep blue sky, the still, dry, -invigorating air--no wonder everyone with a literary turn yearns to -write a book in a valley of the Western Hills. And this valley of the -San Shan An was the loveliest valley of them all. It, too, is a valley -of temples, to what gods they were set up I know not, by whom they were -set up I know not, only because of the gods and the temples there are -trees, trees in plenty, evergreen firs and pines, green-leaved poplars -and ash-trees, maples and Spanish chesnuts. At first they were green, -these deciduous trees, and then gradually, as autumn touched them -tenderly with his fingers, they took on gorgeous tints, gold and brown, -and red, and amber, the summer dying gloriously under the cloudless blue -sky. They tell me that American woods show just such tints, but I have -not been to America, and I have seen nothing to match this autumn in the -Chinese hills. And I had not thought to see beauty like this in China! - -I counted seven temples, and there were probably more. Up the hill -to the north of my valley, beyond a large temple that I shall -always remember for the quaint and picturesque doorway, that I have -photographed, was a plateau to be reached by a stiff climb, and here -was a ruined shrine where sat calmly looking over the plain, as he had -probably looked in life, the marble figure of a very famous priest of -the long ago. It is ages since this priest {376}lived in the hills, -but his memory is fragrant still. He had two disciples. I wonder if the -broken marble figures, one beside him and one on the ground outside the -shrine, are figures of them. There came a drought upon the land, the -crops failed and the people starved, and these two, to propitiate a -cruel or neglectful Deity, flung themselves into a well in the temple -with the beautiful doorway. Whether the rain came I know not, but -tradition says that the two disciples instead of perishing rose up -dragons. Personally I feel that must have been an unpleasant surprise -for the devotees, but you never know a Chinaman's taste, perhaps they -liked being dragons. The country people seem to think it was an honour. -There was a farmhouse just beyond this shrine, a poor little place, but -here on the flat top of the hill there was a little arable land, and the -Chinese waste no land. Far up the hill-sides, in the most inaccessible -places, I could see these little patches of cultivated ground. It seemed -to me that the labour of reaching them would make the handful of grain -they produced too expensive, but labour hardly counts in China. Up the -paths toiled men and women, intent on getting the last grain out of the -land. Off the beaten ways walking is pretty nearly impossible so steep -are the hill-sides, but of course there are paths, paths everywhere, -paved paths, in China there are no untrodden ways, and upon these paths -I would meet the peasants and the priests, clad like ordinary peasants -in blue cotton, only with shaven heads. My own landlord whom my boy -called “Monk,” and generally added, “He bad man,” used to come regularly -for his rent, and he was so fat that the wicked evidently flourished -like a green bay tree. All the priests, I think, let out their temples -as long as they can get tenants, and whatever they are--my landlord -had beaten a man to death--much must be forgiven them. They have gained -merit because, in this treeless China, they have conserved and planted -trees. Some little profit, I suppose they make out of their trees -because, one day in September, I waked to the fact that at my gate, how -they had climbed up the toilsome, roughly-paved way I know not, was -a train of camels, and they had come to take away the sacks that were -stored in the sanctuary under the care of the god. What on earth was -done with those Spanish chestnuts? They must have been valuable when -they were worth a train of camels to take them away. - -[Illustration: 0530] - -[Illustration: 0530] - -As far as I could see there was no worship done in my temple, the -coolies, who carefully locked the sanctuary doors at night, were filthy -past all description. I tried to put it out of my thoughts that they -occupied a k'ang at night in the room that did duty for my kitchen, and -I am very sure that they were the poorest of the poor, but at night -I would see the youngest and dirtiest of them take a small and -evil-smelling lamp inside along with the god, but what he did there I -never knew. Only the lamp inside, behind the paper of the windows lit -up all the lattice-work and made of that sanctuary, that shabby, -neglected-looking place, a thing of beauty. But, indeed, the outside of -all the buildings was wonderful at night. In the daytime when I looked I -saw how beautiful was the lattice-work which made up the entire top half -of my walls. At night in the courtyard when only a single candle was -lighted {378}their beauty was forced upon me, whether I would or not. -Always I went outside to look at those rooms lighted at night. I walked -up and down the courtyard in the dark--“James Buchanan” generally hung -on to the hem of my gown--I looked at the lighted lattice-work of the -windows, and I listened to the servants and the coolies talking, and I -wondered what they discussed so endlessly, in voices that sounded quite -European. - -They were good servants. The cook I know I shall regret all my days, -for I never expect to get a better, and the boy was most attentive. Any -little thing that he could do for me he always did, and the way they -uncomplainingly washed up plates never ceased to command my admiration. -I had only a camp outfit, the making of books may be weariness unto the -flesh, as Solomon says it is, but even then it does not make me a rich -woman, so I did not wish to spend more than I could help, and yet I -wanted to entertain a friend or two occasionally. This entailed washing -the plates between the courses, and the servants did it without a -murmur. I came to think it was quite the correct thing to wait while -the plates and knives for the next course were washed up. My friends, -of course, knew all about it, and entered into the spirit of the thing -cheerfully, but the servants never gave me away. You would have thought -I had a splendid pantry, and my little scraps of white metal spoons -were always polished till they looked like the silver they ought to have -been. My table linen I made simply out of the ordinary blue cotton one -meets all over China, and it looked so nice, so suitable to meals on -the look-out place, that I shall always cherish a tenderness for blue -cotton. {379}Indeed, but for the lonely nights when one thought, it was -delightful. I only hope my friends enjoyed coming to me, as much as I -enjoyed having them. Their presence drove away all fears. I never feared -the gods in their sanctuaries, I never thought of those who had perished -in the Boxer trouble or the possibility of the return of such days when -they were with me. I thought I had lost the delights of youth, the -joy of the land of long ago, but I found the sensation of entertaining -friends in the San Shan An was like the make-believe parties of one's -childhood. Sitting on the look-out place, away to the south, we could -see a range of low, bald hills. They were enchanted hills. The Chinese -would not go near them, for all that the caves they held hidden in their -folds were full of magnificent jewels. We planned to go over and get -them some day before I left the hills, and make ourselves rich for life. -But they were guarded by gnomes, and elves, and demons, who by their -nefarious spells kept us away, though we did not fear like the Chinese, -and we are not rich yet, though jewels are there for the taking. - -Oh, those sunny days in the mountain temple when we read poetry, and -told stories, and dreamed of the better things life held for us in the -future! They were good days, days in my life to be remembered, if no -more good ever comes to me. Was it the exhilarating air, or the company, -or the temple precincts? All thanks give I to those dead gods who gave -me, for a brief space, something that was left out of my life. - -There was only one blot. That imaginative document known as “Cook's -book” was brought to me afterwards. It wasn't a book at all, needless to -{380}say. It was written on rejected scraps of my typewriting paper, and -it generally stated I had eaten more “Chiken” than would have sufficed -to run a big hotel, and disposed of enough “col” to keep a small railway -engine of my own. Then the flour, and the butter, and the milk, and the -lard, I was supposed to have consumed! I did not at first like to -say much, because the servants were so good in that matter of washing -plates, and knives, and forks, and whenever I did remonstrate the boy -murmured something about “Master.” He was a true Chinaman, he felt -sure I would not grudge anything to make a man comfortable. The woman -evidently did not matter. She was never urged as an excuse for a heavy -bill. I put it to him that the presence of “Master” need not add so -greatly to the coal bill, and I put it very gently, till one day he -mentioned with pride that “Missie other boy was a great friend of his.” - And I, remembering Tuan's powers in the matter of squeeze, had gone -about getting these servants through quite different channels! But once -this knowledge was borne in on me, I became hardhearted. I threatened to -do the marketing myself. - -“I talkee cook,” said the crestfallen boy, and he did “talkee cook,” - said, I suppose, Missie wasn't quite the fool they had counted her, and -presently he came back and returned me fifteen cents! After that I had -no mercy, and I regularly questioned every item of my bills. - -But they were simple souls, and I couldn't help liking them. It seemed -hardly possible they could belong to the same people who had slung a -helpless woman from a pole like a pig, bearing her to her death, a woman -from whom they had had naught {381}but kindness. And yet they were. The -selfsame subservience that made them bow themselves to the Boxer yoke, -was exactly the quality that made them pleasant to me, who was in -authority over them. They were just peasants of Babylon, making the best -of life, deceiving and dissimulating, because deception is the safeguard -of the slave, the only safeguard he knows. And they certainly made the -best of life. It amused me to watch their pleasures, those that were -visible to my eyes. They had a little feast one night, with my stores, -I doubt not, and they caught and kept crickets in little three-cornered -cages which they made themselves. At first, when I went to the temple, -these cages were hung from the eaves outside, but as the weather grew -colder they were taken inside, and I could hear a cheery chirping, long -after the crickets had gone from the hills outside. It rained and was -cold the first week in October, and the servants, like the babies they -were, shivered, and suggested, “Missie go back Peking,” and one day when -it rained hard my tiffin was two hours late, and was brought by a boy -who looked as if he were on the point of bursting into tears. - -[Illustration: 0537] - -Certainly those temples are not built for cold weather. Everything -is ordered in China, even the weather, and the first frost is due, I -believe, on the 1st of November, and yet, on that day, I sat in the warm -and pleasant sunshine writing on the platform that looked away to the -enchanted hills, reflecting a little sorrowfully that presently I would -be gone, and it would be abandoned for the winter. - -For after that unexpected rain, which for once was not ordered, the days -were lovely, and the nights {382}times of delight. The stars hung like -diamond drops in the sky, the planets were scintillating crescents, and, -when the moon rose, the silver moon, she turned the courtyard and the -temple into a dream palace such as never was on sea or land. It was -beauty and delight given, oh given with a lavish hand. - -And the people I saw in the hills were the kindliest I had yet met in -China. I had little enough to do with them, I could not communicate -with them, and yet this was borne in on me. Whenever we met, dirty -brown faces smiled upon me, kindly voices with a burr in them gave -me greeting, I was regularly offered the baby of the farm-house at my -gates, much to that young gentleman's discomfiture, and whenever there -was anything to see, they evidently invited me to stay and share the -sight. Once a bridal procession passed with much beating of gongs, the -bride shut up in the red sedan chair, and all the people about stood -looking on, and I stayed too. Another time they were killing a pig, an -unwieldy, gruesome beast, that made me forswear pork, and I was invited -to attend the great event. The poor pig was very sorry for himself, -and was squealing loudly, but much as I wished to show I appreciated -kindliness, I could not accept that invitation. - -And here in the Western Hills I sat in judgment upon the people I -had known of all my life and been amongst for the last ten months. Of -course, I have no right to sit in judgment but after all, I should be -a fool to live among people for some time and yet have no opinion about -them. And it seemed to me that I was looking with modern eyes upon the -{383}survival of one of the great powers of the ancient world, Babylon -come down to modern times, Babylon cumbrously adapting herself to the -pressure of the nations who have raced ahead of the civilisation that -was hers when they were barbarian hordes. - -All along the Pacific Coast, on the west of America, and the east of -Australia, they fear the Chinaman, and--I used to say his virtues. I put -it the wrong way. What the white races fear--and rightly fear--is that -the Chinaman will come in such hordes, he will lower the standard of -living, he will bring such great pressure to bear, he will reduce the -people of the land in which he elects to live, the people of the working -classes, to his own condition--the hopeless condition of the toiling -slaves of Babylon. It has been well said that the East, China, is the -exact opposite of the West in every thought and feeling. In the West -we honour individualism. This is true of almost every nation. A man is -taught from his earliest youth to depend to a great degree upon himself, -that he alone is responsible for his own actions. Even the women of the -more advanced nations--it marks their advancement, whatever people may -think--are clamouring for a position of their own, to be judged on their -merits, not to be one of a class bound by iron custom to go one way and -one way only. In the East this is reversed. No man has a right to judge -for himself, he is hide-bound by custom, he dare not step out one pace -from the beaten path his fathers trod. The filial piety of the Chinese -has been lauded to the skies. In truth it is a virtue that has become a -curse. To his elders the Chinaman {384}must give implicit, unquestioning -obedience. His work, his marriage, the upbringing of his children, the -whole ordering of his life is not his business but the business of those -in authority over him. If he stepped out and failed, his failure would -affect the whole community. Whatever he does affects not only -himself, but the farthest ramifications of his numerous family. This -interdependence makes for a certain excellence, an excellence that was -reached by the Chinese nation some thousands of years ago, and then--it -is stifling. - -This patriarchal system, this continual keeping of the eyes upon the -past, has done away in the nation with all self-reliance. A man must be -not only a genius, but possessed of an extraordinarily strong will-power -if he manage to shake off the trammels and go his own way unaided, if -he exercise the sturdy self-reliance that sent the nations of the West -ahead by leaps and bounds, though the Chinese had worked their way -to civilisation ages before them. Pages might be written on the -subservience and ignorance of the women. - -“Oh but a woman has influence,” say the men who know China most -intimately. And of course she has influence, but in China it must often -be the worst form of power, the influence of the favourite, favoured -slave. The woman's influence is the influence of a degraded, ignorant, -and servile class, a class that every man treats openly with a certain -contempt, a class that is crippled, mentally and bodily. The Chinese, -be it counted to them for grace, have always held in high esteem a -well-educated man, educated on their archaic lines; but not, I think, -till this century, has it ever occurred to {385}them that a woman would -be better educated. A cruel drag upon the nation must be the appalling -ignorance of its women, the intense ignorance of half the population. -Things are changing, they say, but, of necessity, they change most -slowly. Knowledge of any kind takes long, long to permeate an inert -mass. - -[Illustration: 0543] - -We praise the Chinaman for his industry. But, in truth, we praise -without due cause. We of the West have long since learned of the dignity -of labour and if we do not always live up to our ideals, at least we -appreciate them, and judged by this standard the Chinaman is found -wanting. He does not appreciate the dignity of labour. The long nails on -the fingers of the man upon whom fortune has smiled proclaim to all that -he has no need to use his hands; his fat, flabby, soft body declares him -rich and well-fed, and that there is no need to exert himself. He is -a man to be envied by the greater part of the nation. The forceful, -strenuous life of the West, the life that has made the nations has -no charms for, excites no admiration in his breast. Manual labour and -strife is for the man who cannot help himself. And, man for man, his -manual labour will by no means compare with that accomplished by the -man of the West. Nominally he works from dawn to dark, really he wastes -two-thirds of the time, sometimes in useless, misdirected effort, -sometimes in mere idle loitering. He is a slave in all but name. His -life is dull, dull and colourless; he can look forward to no recreation -when his work is over, therefore he spins it out the livelong day. Home -life, in the best sense of the term, he has none, he may just as well -stay at his {386}work, exchanging ideas and arguing with his fellows. - -Something to hope for, to live for, to work for, seems to me the great -desideratum of the majority of the Chinese nation, something a little -beyond the colourless round of life. The greater part of the nation is -poor, so poor that industry is thrust upon it, unless it worked it would -of necessity die; the struggle for life absorbs all its energies, gives -it no time for thought sufficient to raise it an inch above the dull -routine that makes up the daily round, but the country is by no means -poor, had it been there would have been no such civilisation so early -and so lasting in the world's history, no such fostering of a race that -now, in spite of most evil sanitary conditions, raises four generations -to the three of the man of the West. - -China is a rich land and once she is wiser she will be far richer still, -for in her mountains are such store of iron and coal as, once worked, -may well revolutionise the industrial world. - -Now the thought of revolutionising the condition of the industrial world -brings me quite naturally to the consideration of missionary effort. - -For the last two hundred and fifty years the Catholic, and for the last -hundred years the Protestant Churches, have been working in China with a -view to proselytising the people. And converts are notoriously harder to -make than in any other missionary field. Still they are made. - -To me, a Greek, it does not seem to matter by what name a man calls upon -the Great Power that is over us all--the thing that really matters -is the life of the man who calls upon that God. Now the missionaries, -whether they make converts, or whether they do not, do this, they set -up a higher standard of living. They come among these slave people, they -educate them, men and women, they care for the sick by thousands, and -by their very presence among them they show them, I speak of material -things, there is something beyond their own narrow round, and they make -them desire these better things. If the Western nations are wise they -will allow no poor missionaries in China, it is so easy to sink to the -level of the people, to become as Chinese as the Chinese themselves. -Personally, I think it is a mistake to conform to Chinese customs. The -missionaries are there to preach the better customs of the West and -there must be no lowering of the standard. The Chinaman wants to be -taught self-reliance, he wants to be taught self-respect, and, last but -by no means least, he wants to be taught to amuse himself rationally -and healthily. Now this in a measure, even this last, is what the -missionaries, the majority of them, are teaching him, though, doubtless, -they would not put their teaching in exactly those words, might be even -surprised to hear it so described. They are helping to break down the -great patriarchal system which has been stifling China for so many -hundreds of years. They are teaching responsibility, the responsibility -of every man and woman for his and her own doings. - -And they are pioneers of trade, forerunners of the merchants who must -inevitably follow in their footsteps. There are those who will say that -they do not influence the more highly educated portion of the community, -but they come to those who need {388}them most. The rich can afford to -send their sons abroad, to pay for medical attendance. It is to those -of humble means that the schools and hospitals introduced by foreign -charity are an immeasurable advantage, a boon beyond price. For the man -who has once come in contact with these foreigners never forgets. He has -seen their possessions, humble in their eyes, wonderful in his, and in -his heart a desire is implanted--a desire for something a little -better than has satisfied his fathers. And slowly this little leaven of -discontent, heavenly discontent and dissatisfaction with things as they -are, will permeate the whole lump. China is daily coming more in -contact with the rest of the world. That world ruthlessly shuts out her -proletariat because it will not be pulled down. It is well then that the -proletariat should be levelled up. The process is slowly beginning when -the missionaries put into the hands of a labourer the Gospels, tell him -he is of as much value as the President in his palace, make him desire -to read, to wash his face to be just a little better than his fellows. -The creed he holds is a small matter, but it is a great matter if he -be no longer a slave, but a self-respecting man fit to mingle on equal -terms with the men of the West. Such a man will be more capable, more -ready to develop the resources of his own rich land; as a trader he -will be of ten times more value to the mercantile world for ever on the -look-out for a market. Whether the nations then need fear him will be -matter for further consideration. It is possible things may be adjusted -on a comfortable basis of supply and demand. - -It would be unfair to give all credit for changing {3898}China to the -missionaries. They are only one factor in a general movement that her -own sons, the men of new China, have deeply at heart. The past is going, -but the great change will not be anything violent. The Boxer tragedy -awakened the Western world thoroughly to what it had always felt, that -an Empire like Babylon was unsuited to the present day, and they said -so with shot and shell, and China is taking the lesson to heart, slowly, -slowly, but she is taking it. She will have learned it thoroughly when -the need for change, the desire for better things, the power to insist -on a higher standard of living shall have come to her lower classes, and -then she will not change exactly as the Western world would wish, but as -she herself thinks best. The Chinese have always adapted themselves, and -in these modern times they will use the same methods that they have done -through the centuries. - -There came forth the fingers of a man's hand and wrote upon the plaster -of the wall of the King's Palace, “_MENE MENE TEKEL UPHAR-SIN_.” In that -night was Belshazzar, the King of the Chaldeans, slain, and Darius the -Mede took the kingdom. So the men who made the Forbidden City sacred -have passed away, the Dowager-Empress who defied the West has gone to -her long home, the Emperor is but a tiny child, his Empire is confined -within the pinkish red walls of the Inner City, and the Republic, the -new young Republic with a Dictator at its head, reigns in his stead. But -the nation is stirring, the slow-moving, patient slaves of Babylon. Will -not a new nation arise that shall be great in its own way even as -the nations of the West are great, for surely the spirit of those men -{390}who built the wondrous courtyards and halls of audience of the -Forbidden City, who planned the pleasure-grounds at Jehol, who stretched -the wall over two thousand miles of mountain and valley, who conceived -the Altar of Heaven, the most glorious altar ever dedicated to any -Deity, must be alive and active as it was a thousand' years ago. And -when that spirit animates not the few taskmasters, but the mass of the -people, when it reaches the toiling slaves and makes of them men, the -nation will be like the palaces and altars they built hundreds of -years ago, and the rest of the world may stand aside, and wonder, and, -perhaps, fear. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman In China, by Mary Gaunt - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN IN CHINA *** - -***** This file should be named 54401-0.txt or 54401-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/4/0/54401/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: A Woman In China - Illustrated - -Author: Mary Gaunt - -Release Date: March 21, 2017 [EBook #54401] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN IN CHINA *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - A WOMAN IN CHINA - </h1> - <h2> - By Mary Gaunt - </h2> - <h3> - Author Of "Alone In West Africa," "The Uncounted Cost," Etc. - </h3> - <h4> - London: T. Werner Laurie Ltd. - </h4> - <h3> - 1915 - </h3> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> A WOMAN IN CHINA </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—ACROSS THE OLD WORLD </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—A CITY OF THE AGES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—THE WALLS AND GATES OF BABYLON - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—THE LEGATION QUARTER OF PEKING - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—THE FUNERAL OF AN EMPRESS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—A TIME OF REJOICING </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—TWO CHARITIES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—A CHINESE INN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—THE TUNGLING </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—A WALLED CITY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—THE NINE DRAGON TEMPLE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—IN THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAINS - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—TO THE GREEKS, FOOLISHNESS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—A VISIT TO THE TARTAR GENERAL - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—A PLEASURE-GROUND OF THE - MANCHUS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD GODS - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—IN A WUPAN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—A RIVER PORT IN BABYLON </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—THE WAYS OF THE CHINESE SERVANT - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—FROM THE SAN SHAN AN </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A WOMAN IN CHINA - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—ACROSS THE OLD WORLD - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">001</span><a name="link001" id="link001"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>My grandmother's curios—Camels and elephants—Dr - Morrison—Chinese in Australia—Feared for his virtues—Racial - animosity—Great Northern Plain—A city of silence—A land - of exile—The Holy Sea—Frost flowers on a birch forest—Chaos - at Manchuria and Kharbin—Japanese efficiency—A Peking dust - storm.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen I was a little - girl and was taken to see my grandmother, she set out for my amusement, to - be looked at but not touched by little fingers, various curios brought - home by my grandfather from China in the old days when he was a sailor in - the Honourable East India Company's service; beautifully carved - ivory chessmen, a model of a Chinese lady's foot about three inches - long, dainty mother-of-pearl counters made in the likeness of all manner - of strange beasts, lacquer boxes and ivory balls; models of palankeens in - ivory, and fans that seemed to me, brought up in the somewhat - rough-and-ready surroundings of a new country, dreams of loveliness. The - impression was made, I felt the fascination of China, the fascination of a - thing far beyond me. Like the pretty things, so out of my reach it seemed - that I did not even add it to the list of places I intended to <span - class="pagenum">002</span><a name="link002" id="link002"></a>visit when I - grew up, for even then my great desire was to travel all over the world; I - was born with the wander fever in my blood, but unfortunately with small - means of satisfying it. As I grew older I used to read every travel book I - could get hold of, and later on when I began to live by my pen I got into - the habit of gauging my chances of seeing a country by the number of books - written about it. China, judged by this standard, fell naturally into the - place assigned to it by my grandmother's curios; for from the days - of Marco Polo men have gone up and down the land, painfully, sorrowfully, - gladly, triumphantly, and at least half of them seem to have put pen to - paper to describe what they have seen. Was it likely there would be - anything left for me to write about? - </p> - <p> - Then one bright Sunday morning when the sun was shining, as he does - occasionally shine in England, the spirit moved me to go down the Brighton - line to spend a day with Parry Truscott, a fellow storyteller. The unkind - Fates have seen to it that I live alone, and arriving at Victoria that - bright morning I felt amiably disposed and desirous of exchanging ideas - with somebody. In the carriage I had chosen were already seated two nicely - dressed women, and coming along the platform was a porter with hot-water - bottles. The morning was sharp and the opportunity was not to be lost, I - turned to them and asked them if they would not like a hot-water bottle. - Alas! Alas! Those women towards whom I had felt so friendly evidently did - not reciprocate my feelings. In chilly accents calculated to discourage - the boldest—and I am not the boldest—they gave me to - understand that they required neither the hot-<span class="pagenum">003</span><a - name="link003" id="link003"></a>water bottle nor my conversation, so, - snubbed, I retired to the other side of the carriage and amused myself - with my own thoughts and the sunshine and shadow on the green country - through which we were passing. Half the journey was done when I saw, to my - astonishment, a sight that is not often seen in the Sussex lanes, a train - of camels and elephants marching along. It seemed to me something worth - seeing, and entirely forgetting that I had been put in my place earlier in - the morning I cried, “Oh, look! Look! Camels and elephants!” - </p> - <p> - Those two ladies were a credit to the English nation. They bore themselves - with the utmost propriety. What they thought of me I can only dimly guess, - but they never even raised their eyes from their papers. Of course the - train rushed on, the camels and elephants were left behind, and there was - nothing to show they had ever been there. Then I regret to state that I - lay back and laughed till I cried, and whenever I felt a little better the - sight of those two studious women solemnly reading their papers set me off - again. When I got out at Hassocks they did not allow themselves to look - relieved, that perhaps would have been expressing too much emotion before - a stranger who had behaved in so eccentric a fashion, but they literally - drew their skirts around them so that they should not touch mine and be - contaminated as I passed. - </p> - <p> - There is always more than one side to a story; how I should love to hear - the version of that journey told by those two ladies; doubtless it would - not in the faintest degree resemble mine. And yet there really were camels - and elephants. And so it occurred to me why not go to a country and try - and <span class="pagenum">004</span><a name="link004" id="link004"></a>write - about it, although many had written before. If the gods were kind might I - not find a story even in China. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile one of my brothers had married a sister of Dr Morrison, and I - had come into touch with the famous <i>Times</i> correspondent, an - Australian like myself, and when he came to England he used to come and - see me, and we talked about China. When I met him again after my elephant - and camel experience I asked his opinion, would it be worth my while to go - to China? - </p> - <p> - He was quite of opinion it would, more, he and his newly-wedded wife gave - me a cordial invitation to stay with them, and the thing was settled. I - decided to go to Peking. Accordingly, on the last day of January in the - year of Our Lord 1913, I left Charing Cross in a thick fog for the Far - East. It is a little thing to do, to get into a train and be whirled - eastward. There is nothing wonderful about it and yet—and yet—to - me it was the beginning of romance. I was bound across the old world for a - land where people had lived as a civilised people for thousands of years - before we of the West emerged from barbarism, for a country which the new - nation from which I have sprung regards with peculiar interest. Australia - has armed herself. Why? Because of China's millions to the north. - Australia has voted solid for a white Australia, and rigidly excluded the - coloured man. Why? Not because she fears the Kanaka who helped to develop - her sugar plantations, but because she fears the yellow man and his - tireless energy and his low standard of living. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0026.jpg" alt="0026 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0026.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - When I was a child my father, warden of the <span class="pagenum">005</span><a - name="link005" id="link005"></a>goldfield where he was stationed, was - also, by virtue of his office, protector of the Chinese; and Heaven knows - the unfortunate Chinese, industrious, hardworking men of the coolie class - from Amoy and Canton, badly needed a protector. Many a time have I seen an - unfortunate Chinaman, cut and bleeding, come to my father's house to - claim his protection. The larrikins, as we used to call the roughs, had - stoned him for no reason that they or anyone else could understand but - only because he was a Chinaman. Now I understand what puzzled and shocked - me then, and what shocks me still. It is that racial animosity that is so - difficult to explain to the home-staying Englishman: that animosity which - is aroused because, subconsciously, the white man knows that the yellow - man, in lowering the standard of living, will literally take away much of - the bread and all chance of butter from the community in which he has a - foothold. - </p> - <p> - Here I was going to see the land whence had come that subservient, - patient, hard-working coolie of my childhood. And the wonder of that rush - across the old world, the twelve days' railway journey that takes us - from the most modern of civilisations to the most ancient—it grew - upon me as we crossed the great northern plain—historic ground - whereon the great battles of Europe have been fought. The people in the - train were dining, supping, playing cards, sleeping, and the cities we - passed in the darkness seemed mere clusters of dancing lights, such lights - as I have seen after rain on many a hot and steamy night in West Africa. - When morning dawned we had passed Berlin and were slowly leaving the - packed civilisation behind us. A grey low <span class="pagenum">006</span><a - name="link006" id="link006"></a>sky was overhead and there were clumps of - fir-trees. Dirty snow was in the hollows, and there were long, straight - roads drawn with a ruler as they are in Australia, with little bare trees - at regular intervals on either side, and then again dark fir woods and - rain everywhere. Soon we had passed the frontier and were in Russia, and I - felt I could not rush through without one glimpse of it, so I stayed one - little week in Moscow, and I shall always be glad I did, though there, for - the first time in my life, I was in a country where my nationality did not - count, and it was not a pleasant feeling. But Moscow is the city of a - dream. I arrived there at night to streets all covered with a mantle of - snow. The many lights shone clear in the keen, cold, windless air and the - sleighs drawn by sturdy little horses glided over the white snow as - silently as if they had been moving shadows. And when morning came it was - snowing. Softly, softly, fell the flakes and the city was a city of - silence, white everywhere, and when the sun came out dazzling, sparkling - white, only the cupolas of the many churches—Moscow in the heart of - holy Russia has sixteen hundred—were golden or bright blue, or dark - vivid green, for the snow that hid the brilliant roofs could not lie on - their rounded surfaces. Above the cupolas are crosses, and from the - crosses hang long chains, and ever and again on the silence rang out the - musical clang of some deep-toned bell. But it is the silence that - impresses. The bells were but incidental, trifling—the silence is - eternal. The snow fell with a hush, there was no rush nor roar nor crash - of storm, but every snowflake counted. The little sledges were half buried - in it, the drivers in their fur-edged caps <span class="pagenum">007</span><a - name="link007" id="link007"></a>and blue coats girt in at the waist with a - red sash or silver embroidered band, shook it out of their eyes and out of - their great beards and brushed it from their shoulders; in every crevice - of the old grey walls of the Kremlin it piled up. - </p> - <p> - A dream city! A city of silence!! The snow reigned, deadening all sound - save the insistent bells that rang to the glory of God, and the cawing of - the black and grey crows that were everywhere. What have scavenger crows - to do in this beautiful city? They were there flying round the churches, - darting down the spotless roads, gathering in little conclaves, raising - their raucous voices as if in protest against the all-embracing silence. - They were the discordant note that emphasised the harmony. - </p> - <p> - Cold, was there ever such cold? The air crackled with it. It cut like a - knife, for all its clear purity. At every street corner I passed as I - drove to the railway station were little piles of fir logs, and little - braziers were burning, glowing red spots of brightness where the miserable - for a moment might warm their hands. - </p> - <p> - They say one should leave Moscow in summer to cross the Siberian plain, - because then there are the flowers—such flowers—and the green - trees, and the sunshine, and you may see the road—the long and - sorrowful road—along which for years the exiles have passed. I have - heard many complaints about the weariness of the journey in winter. There - is nothing to be seen say the grumblers. For these luckless ones I have - the sincerest pity. They have missed something goodly. I suppose for most - of us life, as it unfolds itself, is a disappointing thing, full of - bitterness and—worse still—of unattainable <span - class="pagenum">008</span><a name="link008" id="link008"></a>desires, but - of one thing I shall always be glad, that I crossed the Siberian plain in - the heart of winter, and saw it beneath its mantle of spotless snow. - Possibly I may never see it in summer, but its winter beauty is something - to be remembered to my dying day. - </p> - <p> - And yet it is a land of exile. Even in childhood I had read of the - sufferings of those who have been sent there; and my conception of the - land and the reality before my eyes as I rushed through it in an express - train were always starting up in comparison with each other. A land of - exile, and yet from the plains of Eastern Russia in the west to the frozen - hills round Kharbin in the east it is a lovely land. It is a plain, of - course—a plain thousands of miles in extent, and the vastness and - the beauty of the snow-clad solitudes cry aloud in praise to the God Who - made them. Overhead, far, far away, is the great arch of the deep blue - sky, clear, bright, enticing, delightful, with no threat in its - translucent depths such as one knows is latent in tropical lands, and - below is the snow-clad plain, stretching far as the eye can see, bathed in - the brilliant sunshine. From the desert and the mountains in the south it - stretches away north to the frozen sea; and from the busy towns of the - Baltic in the west, in close touch with modern civilisation, to the busy - toiling millions of the East with their own civilisation that comes from a - dateless antiquity; and in all those thousands of miles it changes its - character but little. - </p> - <p> - But first there were the Urals. I had looked upon them as mountains all my - life; and I saw one evening only some very minor hills, deep in snow, with - steep sides covered with a forest of fir and leafless <span class="pagenum">009</span><a - name="link009" id="link009"></a>larch, dark against the white background; - next morning all trace of them was gone, and we were in Asia. On the - station platforms were men and women, Cossacks of the west, Buriats of the - centre, Tartars of the east, Christians, Buddhists, Mohammedans; there was - little difference in outward appearance, muffled as they were against the - cold which was often thirty degrees below freezing-point. The men were in - long-skirted coats, and the women in short petticoats and high boots, so - that it would have been difficult to tell one from the other save that on - their heads the men wore fur caps, ragged, dirty, but still fur, while the - women muffled themselves in shawls still dirtier. Though they looked as if - they had not given water a thought from the day they were born, I, the - daughter of a subtropical land, could forgive them. Who could face water - in such a biting atmosphere? I sympathised but I did not desire to go too - close when we passengers bundled out for exercise on the station - platforms, at least most of us did. Some preferred bridge. - </p> - <p> - “My God! my God!” said an old military man with unnecessary - fervour. “What are the idiots getting out for. I go one no trump, - partner. Where is my partner? The donkey 'll be slipping and hurting - himself on those slippery steps next and then our four 'll be - spoilt,” and he looked round for sympathy. - </p> - <p> - Someone murmured something about seeing the country, but he shrivelled him - with his scorn. - </p> - <p> - “Seeing the country! This is the eleventh time I've been - across and I never even look out if I can help myself. Know better. Oh, - here you are, <span class="pagenum">010</span><a name="link010" - id="link010"></a>partner,” slightly mollified. “I've - gone one no trump, and there are two hearts against you.” - </p> - <p> - It was a curious thing to me that most of the passengers in that - luxuriously equipped train, with every comfort for the asking save fresh - air, grumbled so continuously. It seems to be the accepted thing that the - traveller who travels luxuriously should grumble. Our old soldier - considered himself a much-injured individual when the attendants did not - know by instinct when he required lemon and tea and when whisky-and-soda; - and the breaking up of a game of auction bridge because the tables were - wanted for dinner reduced him to blackest despair. The hordes which - through the ages have swept, conquering, westwards probably never - complained, their lives were too strenuous, either they fought and died - and were at peace, or they fought and conquered, and small discomforts - were swallowed up in the joy of victory. It is left to these modern - travellers flying eastward at a rate that would have made the old-time - nomads think of witchcraft and sorcery to make a fuss about trifles, to - complain of the discomforts and hardships of the long journey across the - old world. - </p> - <p> - I knew the country. In the days when I was a little girl studying my map - with diligence I should have counted it a joy unspeakable if I had thought - that ever I should be crossing Siberia; crossing the great rivers, the - Obi, the Yenesei and the Angara that were then as far away and distant to - me as the river that Christian crossed to gain high Heaven; that I should - watch the sledges travelling in the sunlight along their hard, frozen - surfaces, I to whom a small piece of ice on a saucer of water, which by - <span class="pagenum">011</span><a name="link011" id="link011"></a>luck we - might get if there happened to be an exceptionally cold night in the - winter, was a wonder and a delight. I suppose my joy would have' - been tempered could I have known how many years must pass over my head - before this wonderful thing would happen, for in those days - five-and-twenty seemed extraordinarily old, and I was very sure that at - thirty life would not be worth living. And I have passed that terrible age - limit and have missed most things I have set my heart upon, but still - there are moments when life is well worth living. Strange and bitter is - the teaching of the years—bitter but kindly, too. - </p> - <p> - We passed Irkutsk where East and West meet, a great city with church - spires and cupolas and buildings overlooking the broad and frozen Angara. - We raced along by leafless woods, by barren stretches of spotless snow, - and sometimes the swiftly running river was piling up the ice in great - slabs and blocks and girding and fretting at its chains, and sometimes it - was flowing free for a few miles, the only flowing river in all the long, - long journey from the old Russian capital. The water was black, and dark, - and cold, looking far colder than the ice. The duck rose, leaving long - wakes on the water; then there was a little steam, and then a greater - steam in the clear sunlight, but by the time we reached Lake Baikal, the - Fortunate Sea, the Holy Sea, the frost had gripped the water again, the - lake was a sheet of white, and the afternoon sun shone on hills snow-clad - on the eastern side. The hills, hardly worth mentioning when one thinks of - the great plain across which we had come, are down to the very ice edge. - The great lake, the eighth in the world, is <span class="pagenum">012</span><a - name="link012" id="link012"></a>but a cleft in them, and the railway track - runs on a ledge cut out of the steep hill-side overhanging its waters, - waters that were now smooth and white and hard as marble. Here and there - little jetties run out; here and there were boats, useless now, close - against them; here and there were piles of wood that would be burned up - before the thaw. It had been Siberia for days but Baikal struck the true - Siberian note. - </p> - <p> - Here there were convicts too. Some alterations or repairs were being - carried out on the line, and drab-coloured convicts were working at them, - guarded by soldiers with fixed bayonets. Siberia! Siberia of the - story-teller! On every little point of vantage stood a soldier with high - fur cap, looking out over the men working below him, and they, splitting - wood, digging holes in the iron-bound ground, paused in their labours and - lifted their faces to the passing train. Did it speak to them of home and - culture and love and happiness and freedom, or were they merely the brutal - criminal justly punished, and the peasant, poor and simple, here because - the Government want workers, and that he cannot pay his taxes is excuse - enough. - </p> - <p> - The sun was brilliant but it was cold, bitter cold, such cold as I had - never dreamed of. Men's breath came like solid steam, and the hair - on their faces was fringed with white hoar-frost. The earth was so hard - frozen that they were building great fires to thaw it before working; and - as the darkness fell the flames leapt yellow and red and blue, glowing - spots of colour against the whiteness and the night. And with the night - came the full moon high in the clear sky, a disc of dazzling silver. The - Providence that <span class="pagenum">013</span><a - name="link013_rdquo_________id_" id="link013_rdquo_________id_"></a>has - guided my wandering footsteps surely gives sometimes with a lavish hand; - that which I have sought earnestly with many tears is not for me, but this - still moonlight winter's night in Siberia was mine, and all the - world that we were rushing past was fairyland. There was in it nothing - sordid, nothing unclean, nothing sorrowful. - </p> - <p> - And it was still fairyland when I awoke in the morning to a brilliant sun - shining upon a forest of dainty, delicate, graceful birches with every - branch, every little twig, clothed in sparkling white, for the sunbeams - were caught and reflected a million times on the frost flowers, and the - whole forest was a thing of beauty and wonder that to see once is to - remember for a lifetime. It is worth living to have seen it. I have seen - great rivers and mountains and been awed by mighty forests, I have watched - the thundering surf and listened to the roar of the tornado; but this was - something quite different. Awe was not the predominant feeling, but joy—joy - that such beauty exists, that I was alive to look upon it. Behind us lay a - long, long trail. We in the rushing train represented the onward march of - a mighty civilisation, but all around us in the brilliant winter sunshine - lay the limitless plains of Siberia, and the birch forest, and the snow, - and the frost, and the beauty that is not made with hands, that defies - civilisation, that was before civilisation, and we were moved to raise our - eyes with the psalmist and cry aloud: “How wonderful are thy works, - O Lord!” - </p> - <p> - But I did not appreciate the beauty of the winter or the moonlight when - they roused me at three o'clock in the morning at Manchuria because - my luggage <span class="pagenum">014</span><a name="link014" id="link014"></a>had - to be examined at the Chinese Customs. The scanty lights on the station, - the silver moon in the heaven above lit up the platform as we passengers - of the <i>train de luxe</i> made our way to the baggage-room along a path - between heaped-up frozen snow and ice, and the difference in temperature - between that station platform and the carriages from which the hot air - gushed was perhaps one hundred degrees. The reek from those carriages went - up to heaven, but the sudden change was cruel. - </p> - <p> - Our pessimistic old soldier wailed loudest. “My God! My God! this is - unbearable!” and I wondered why, because on his way through the - world he must have encountered worse things than bitter cold that has only - to be borne for a few minutes. Probably that was the reason. If he had had - something really hard to bear he would very likely have said nothing about - it. The baggage-room was confusion, worse confounded, and nobody seemed to - know what was being looked for, opium, or arms or both. This place is the - Port Said of the East, and people from all corners of the earth were - gathered round their belongings. There were groups of Chinese with women - and children and weird bundles; there were the very latest dressing-cases - and despatch-boxes from Bond Street and Piccadilly; there was a babel of - tongues, Russian and French and German and English and the unknown tongues - of Asia. China, China at last, and I was within two days of my - destination. - </p> - <p> - And when the day dawned we had left beautiful Siberia behind, and instead - there were flat lands, deserts of stones and dry earth, with but little - snow to veil the apparent barrenness, and hills first with <span - class="pagenum">015</span><a name="link015" id="link015"></a>scanty trees, - but growing more and more barren as we approached Kharbin. It looked - desolate, cold, uninviting. The land may be rich, it is I am told, but - when I passed there was no outward sign of that richness; the covering of - beautiful white was gone, there was only a patch or two of snow here and - there in the hollows, and the brilliant sunshine was like gleams of light - on steel. At Kharbin they examined our baggage again—why I know not—and - again it was chaos, chaos in the bitter cold with the mercury many degrees - below freezing-point and screeching demons with a Mongolian type of - countenance, muffled in furs and rags that seemed the cast-off clothes of - all the nations of the earth, hauled the luggage about, pored over tickets - and made entries in books with all the elaborate effort of the unlearned, - and finally marked the unhappy boxes with great sprawling figures in tar - or some such compound. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0039.jpg" alt="0039 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0039.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Four roubles, twenty kopecks.” Why I had to pay I know not, - that was beyond me, but I was glad to get off so lightly, for had they - seen fit to ask me one hundred roubles, I should have been equally - helpless. I was thankful to get out of the cold back to my warm and - evil-smelling coupé. - </p> - <p> - And at Ch'ang Ch'un I fairly felt I had crossed half the - world, and the oldest old world greeted me with active winter. I did not - know then, as I do now, how wonderful a thing is a snowstorm in Northern - China. Here the snow was falling, falling. We had left behind us the great - spaces of the earth, and come back to agriculture. Through the whirling - snowflakes, little low-roofed houses, surrounded with walls of stone with - little portholes for <span class="pagenum">016</span><a - name="link016_rdquo_________id_" id="link016_rdquo_________id_"></a>guns—the - Japanese block-houses, for Japan holds Manchuria by force of arms—alternated - with farmhouses, with fences of high yellow millet stalks. The doors were - marked with brilliant red paper with inscriptions in Chinese characters - upon it—a spot of brightness amidst the prevailing white that lent - tone and colour to the picture. - </p> - <p> - Here it was that the Russians and the sons of Nippon had been at - death-grips, and we who were in this train realised why the Eastern nation - had won. At Kharbin and at Manchuria, with things managed by Chinese, - reigned confusion. That we ever emerged with a scrap of luggage seemed to - be more by good luck than good management. From Ch'ang Ch'un - to Mukden the little men from the islands in the eastern sea run the - railway, and they know what they are about; everything is in order, and - everything marches without apparent effort. They bought this land with - their blood, and they are holding it now with the sure grip that - efficiency gives. - </p> - <p> - At Mukden a blizzard was raging, and the old Tartar City was veiled in - snow. When the snow went, the sunshine was bleak and bright, and - everywhere, far as the eye could see, stretched tilled fields, bare of - every green thing. Flatter and flatter grew the land. It was half ice and - half earth, and the little sledges that were hitherto drawn by ponies were - now drawn by men. Once we had left behind the Siberian fir, there was not - a green thing to be seen all the way to Peking. The earth of the fields - was streaked, dark brown and lighter brown; there were bare trees with - their promise for the future; and once we were in China proper, there were - the <span class="pagenum">017</span><a name="link017" id="link017"></a>graves—graves - solitary, and graves in clusters—just neatly kept little heaps of - earth piled up and pointed, something like an ant-hill. The air was clear - and sparkling, the outlook was wide. We passed town after town, and where - on the Siberian border the names of the stations were in Russian and - Chinese, and so equally unintelligible, here in China they were in English - and Chinese. - </p> - <p> - “Do you like China?” I asked a Frenchman who sat opposite me - at tiffin. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said he frankly. “It is too English.” But he - laughed when I said that naturally I considered that a distinct point in - the Chinaman's favour. - </p> - <p> - A wind rose, and it was as if the brown earth were literally lifted into - the air. Everything was smothered in a dust storm. The atmosphere was - heavy as a London fog, a fog that had been dried by some freezing process. - The air was full of dry brown particles that shrivelled the skin, and - parched the lips, and made me weigh in my mind the respective merits of a - soft, moist air, and a clear and sparkling one. I had left London in a - yellow fog that veiled the tops of the houses, and lent an air of mystery - to the street in the near distance, I arrived at Peking in a typical North - China dust storm. We came through the wall, the wall of the Chinese city, - that until I had seen the Tartar wall looked grey, and grim, and stern, - and solid, and I wondered at the curved tiled roofs, and the low houses, - and the great bare spaces that go to make up the city. - </p> - <p> - The East at last, the Far East! All across the old world I had come; and - here on a bitter cold February afternoon, with a wild wind blowing, the - train drew up outside the Tartar wall, the wall that <span class="pagenum">018</span><a - name="link018" id="link018"></a>Kublai Khan and the Ming Emperors built in - the capital city of the civilisation that was old when the Roman legions - planted their eagles in the marshes of the Thames. I had reached China, - the land of blue skies and of sunshine; the land of desperate poverty and - of wonderful wealth; the land of triumph, and of martyrdom, and of - mystery. What was it going to hold for me? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—A CITY OF THE AGES - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">019</span><a name="link019" id="link019"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Chien Men Railway Station—Driver Chow—“Urgent speed - in high disdain”—Peking dust storm—Joys of a bath—The - glories of Peking—The Imperial City—The Forbidden City—Memorial - arches—The observatory—The little Tartar princess—Life - in the streets—Street stalls—A mercenary marriage—Courtly - gentlemen.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> looked out of the - carriage window as the train ran through the Chinese city on its way to - the Chien Men railway station, and wondered what the future was going to - be like, and I wondered aloud. - </p> - <p> - “How will I get on?” - </p> - <p> - Opposite me sat an amusing young gentleman with a ready tongue. - </p> - <p> - “Oh you'll be all right,” said he. “The Chinese - 'll like you because you're fat and o——” and - then he checked himself seeing, I suppose, the dawning wrath in my eyes. - The Chinese admire fat people and they respect the old, but I had not been - accustomed to looking upon myself as old yet, though I had certainly seen - more years than he had, and as for fat—well I had fondly hoped my - friends looked upon it as a pleasing plumpness. With these chastening - remarks sinking into my soul, we rolled into the railway station. - </p> - <p> - The railways in China, with a few exceptions, have been built by the - English or French—mostly <span class="pagenum">020</span><a - name="link020" id="link020"></a>by the English—and are managed to a - great extent on European lines, so that arriving at the railway station in - Peking does not differ very much from arriving at any other great - terminus, save for the absence of cabs; but I imagine there must be - differences, and that those who run the lines have little difficulties to - contend with that would not occur on the London and North Western for - example. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Sir,”—wrote a stationmaster once to the locomotive - superintendent—“I have, with many tears, to call your - attention to your driver, Chow, who holds urgent speed in high disdain.” - </p> - <p> - The locomotive superintendent, without any tears, investigated the charge - against this driver, Chow. The line was worked on the staff system. No - driver could leave a station without giving up the staff he had brought - in, and receiving the corresponding one for the next stretch of line. The - staff—to follow the directions—is to be handed to the driver - by the stationmaster, but the stationmaster on this, and I expect on many - other occasions, for the Chinese are past-masters in the art of delegating - work to someone else, had handed the staff to a coolie and gone about his - pleasure. Now Chow evidently had a grudge against him, for, I fear me, no - one believed in his altruism. He insisted on the strict letter of the law - and declined to take the staff until it was handed to him by the important - man himself, and he kept the whole train waiting, while that worthy was - searched for, and hauled out of the particular gambling-house he most - affected. When the gentleman appeared, furious and angry, on the platform, - Chow calmly lifted up his staff to effect <span class="pagenum">021</span><a - name="link021" id="link021"></a>an exchange, and he swore on investigation - he had forgotten that the end the stationmaster received had been reposing - for all the long wait upon the nearly red-hot boiler! That the - stationmaster burnt his fingers is a mild statement of the case. - </p> - <p> - There was a wild wind blowing when I stepped out of the train and looked - around me at the frowning walls, at least I looked as much as I could, for - the day was bitterly cold, and most of the ground was in the air. A London - fog was nothing to it, that is soft and still and filthy, this was hard - and gritty, moving fast and equally filthy, and every one of the - passengers was desperately anxious to exchange the bleak railway station - for the warmth and comfort and cleanliness to be found between four walls. - </p> - <p> - I was just as anxious as anybody else, but by the time I had collected my - luggage the awful facts were borne in on me that all the people with whom - I had made friends on the way across, were rapidly departing, and that - there was no one to meet me. Peking was wonderful, I knew it was - wonderful; there were such walls as I had never even dreamt of, towering - above me, but I was not able to rise above the fact that I was in a - strange city, among quaint-looking people who spoke an unknown tongue, and - that I did not know where to go. And the Morrisons' invitation had - been most cordial. I had rejected all offers of help, because I was so - sure someone from their house would be there to meet me, now I seized the - last remaining passenger who could speak a little Chinese, and, with his - help, got a hand-cart for my gear, drawn by two ragged men, and a rickshaw - for myself—this man haulage, this <span class="pagenum">022</span><a - name="link022" id="link022"></a>cheapness of human labour, made me realise - more quickly than anything else could have done, that I had really arrived - in the Eastern world—and after a little debate with myself I started - for Dr Morrison's. I had been asked to stay there, and I felt it - would be rude to go to the hotel, but as we drove through the streets I - thought—as much as the dust, the filthy dust—that the violent - gusts of wind were blowing in my face would allow—not of the wonders - of this new world upon which I was entering, but of how I should announce - myself to these people who apparently were not expecting me. I had such a - lot of luggage too! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0049.jpg" alt="0049 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0049.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - At last the coolies stopped opposite a door guarded by two stone lions, - and as I got out of my rickshaw, entered the porch, and stood outside a - little green wicket gate, the doorkeeper stepped out of his room and - looked at me. He was clad all in blue cotton and he had an impassive face - and just enough English for a doorkeeper. - </p> - <p> - No, Missie was not at home, he announced calmly. “Master?” I - asked frantically, but he shook his head, Master was out too. Here was a - dilemma. I would have gone straight to the hotel I had discovered Peking - boasted, but I feared they might think it rude. I made him understand I - would come in and wait a little, and my luggage, my dilapidated luggage, - for Kharbin and Manchuria had been hard on it, was carried into the - courtyard of the first Chinese house I had ever seen. But I wasn't - thinking of sight-seeing then; I was wondering what I should do. I - questioned the No. 1 boy, as I subsequently found he was, a pleasant-faced - little man in a long blue coat or dress, whichever <span class="pagenum">023</span><a - name="link023" id="link023"></a>you please to call it, and a little round - silk cap suppressing his somewhat wild hair. I learned afterwards that - some students, enthusiastic for the new regime, had caught him the day - before and shorn off his queue with no skilful hands. It was his opinion - that Missie was not expecting a guest, but he suggested I should come - inside and have-some tea. The thought of tea was distinctly comforting, - and so was his attitude. It suggested that unexpected guests were - evidently received with hospitality, and dirty as I felt myself to be, I - went in and sat down to a meal of tea and cakes. - </p> - <p> - “I makee room ready chop chop,” announced the boy, and I drank - tea and ate cakes, wondering whether I ought not to stop him, and say he - had better wait till his mistress came home. And I felt so horribly dirty, - too. Then there came in a lady who also looked at me with surprise. - </p> - <p> - She had come to tea with Mrs Morrison, and she was quite sure Mrs Morrison - was expecting no guest. This was awful. I became so desperate that nothing - seemed to matter, and I went on eating cake and drinking tea till - presently the No. 1 boy came in again, and calmly announced: - </p> - <p> - “Barf ready.” - </p> - <p> - And I had just been told that my hostess did not expect me! - </p> - <p> - I looked at the lady sitting opposite me, I looked at the boy, and I - considered my very dirty and dishevelled self. I had not even seen a bath - since I left Moscow. I had come through the Peking streets in a Peking - dust storm, and I felt a bath was a temptation not to be resisted, - wherever that bath was offered; so I arose and followed the boy, and <span - class="pagenum">024</span><a name="link024" id="link024"></a>presently Mrs - Morrison, coming into her own courtyard, was confronted by a heap of - strange luggage, and a boy standing over it with a feather duster, no mere - feather duster could have coped with the dirt upon it, but a Chinese - servant would attack a hornet's nest with one; it is his badge of - office. He looked up at her and remarked, in that friendly and - conversational manner with which the Chinese servant makes the wheels of - life go smoothly for his Missie when he has her alone. - </p> - <p> - “One piecey gentleman in barf!” - </p> - <p> - She came and knocked at the bedroom door when I was doing my hair and - feeling much more able to face the world, and made me most cordially - welcome, and, when I was fully dressed and back in the drawing-room, Dr - Morrison appeared, and said he was glad to see me, and no one mentioned - that my arrival had been unexpected, till a week later, when the letter I - had written saying by what train I was coming, turned up. - </p> - <p> - I stayed with Dr Morrison and his pretty young wife for close on a - fortnight, and they gave me most kindly hospitality, and not only did I - view the wonders of Peking, make some acquaintances and friends, but saw - just a little of the peculiarities of Chinese servants. They are good, - there is no gainsaying it, but sometimes they did surprise me. Dr Morrison - has a secretary, young and slim and clever, who in the early days of our - acquaintanceship was wont very kindly to come over and help me in the - important matter of fastening up dresses at the back. One evening, being - greatly in need of her assistance, I sent across the courtyard to her, and - the startled young lady was calmly informed by <span class="pagenum">025</span><a - name="link025" id="link025"></a>a bland and smiling boy as if it were the - most natural thing in the world: - </p> - <p> - “One piecey gentleman wanchee in he's bedroom.” - </p> - <p> - At first I don't think I appreciated Peking. It left me cold, and my - heart sank, for I had come to write about it, to gain material perhaps for - a novel, and this most certainly is a truth, you cannot write well about a - place unless you either love or hate it. Still, I have always had a great - distaste for dashing through a country like an American tourist, and so I - settled down at the Wagons Lits Hotel, surely the most cosmopolitan hotel - in the world. - </p> - <p> - And then by slow degrees my eyes were opened, and I saw. Blind, blind, how - could I have been so blind? It makes me troubled. Have other good things - been offered me in life? And have I turned away and missed them? The - wonder of what I have seen in Peking never palls, it grows upon me daily. - </p> - <p> - “Walk about Zion and go round about her... consider her palaces that - ye may tell it to the generation following.” So chanted the - psalmist, not so much, perhaps, for the sake of future generations, but - because her beauty and charm so filled his soul that his lips were forced - to song. “Tell the towers thereof, mark ye well her bulwarks.” - Far back in the ages, a nation great and civilised on the eastern edge of - the plain that stretches half across the world, builded themselves a - mighty city. Peking first came into being when we Western nations, who - pride ourselves upon our intense civilisation, were but naked savages, - hunters and nomads, and she, spoiled and sacked and looted, <span - class="pagenum">026</span><a name="link026_rdquo_________id_" - id="link026_rdquo_________id_"></a>taking fresh masters, and absorbing - them, Chinese and Tartar, Ming and Manchu, has endured even unto the - present day. To-day, the spirit of the West is breathing over her and she - responds a little, ever so little, and murmurs of change, yet she remains - the same at heart as she has been through the ages. How should she change? - She is wedded to her past, she can no more be divorced from it than can - the morning from the evening. - </p> - <p> - There is something wonderful and antique about any walled city, but a - walled city like Peking stands alone. The very modern railway comes into - the Chinese City through an archway in the wall, and the railway station, - the hideous modern railway station, lies just outside the great wall of - the Tartar City. There are three cities in Peking, indeed for the last few - years there have been four—four distinct cities. There is the - Imperial City, enclosed in seven miles of pinkish red wall, close on - twenty feet high, and in the Imperial City, the very heart of it, behind - more pinkish red walls, is the Forbidden City, where dwell the remnant of - the Manchu Dynasty, the baby emperor and his guardians, the women, the - eunuchs, the attendants that make up such a gathering as waited in bygone - days on Darius, King of the Medes, or Ahasuerus, King of Babylon. Here - there are spacious courtyards and ancient temples and palaces, and - audience halls with yellowish-brown tiled roofs, extensive lakes, where - multitudes of wild duck, flying north for the summer, or south for the - winter, find a resting-place, watch-towers and walls, and tunnelled - gateways through those walls. When through the ages the greatest artists - of a nation have been giving their minds to <span class="pagenum">027</span><a - name="link027" id="link027"></a>the beautifying of a city, the things of - beauty in that city are so numerous that it seems impossible for one mind - to grasp them, to realise the wonder and the charm, especially when that - charm is exotic and evasive. - </p> - <p> - The Imperial City, all round the Forbidden City, consists of a network of - narrow streets and alleys lined with low buildings with windows of - delicate lattice-work, and curved tiled roofs. Here, hidden away in silent - peaceful courtyards shaded by gnarled old trees, are temples guarded by - shaven priests in faded red robes. Their hangings are torn and faded, the - dust lies on their altars, and the scent of the incense is stale in their - courts, for the gods are dead; and yet because the dead are never - forgotten in China—China that clings to her past—they linger - on. Here are shops, low one-storied shops, with fronts richly carved and - gilded, streets deep in mud or dust, narrow alley-ways and high walls with - mysterious little doors in them leading into secluded houses, and all the - clatter and clamour of a Chinese city, laden donkeys, mules and horses, - rickshaws from Japan, glass broughams weirdly reflecting the glory of - modern London, and blue, tilted Peking carts with studded wheels, <span - class="pagenum">028</span><a name="link028" id="link028"></a>such as have - been part and parcel of the Imperial City for thousands of years, all the - life of the city much as it is outside the pinkish red walls, only here - and there are carved pillars and broad causeways that, if the stones could - speak, might tell a tale of human woe and Human weariness, of joy and - magnificence, that would surpass any told of any city in the world. - </p> - <p> - And outside the Imperial City, hemming it in, in a great square fourteen - miles round, is the Tartar City with splendid walls. Outside that again, - forming a sort of suburb, lies to the south the Chinese City with thirteen - miles of wall enclosing not only its teeming population, but the great - open spaces and parks of the Temple of Heaven and the Temple of - Agriculture. But though the Tartar City and the Chinese City are distinct - divisions of Peking, walled off from each other, all difference between - the people has long ago disappeared. The Tartars conquered the Chinese, - and the Chinese, patient, industrious, persistent, drew the Tartars to - themselves. But still the walls that divided them endure. - </p> - <p> - The Tartar City is crossed by broad highways cutting each other at right - angles, three run north and south, and three run east and west, they are - broad and are usually divided into three parts, the centre part being a - good, hard, well-tended roadway, while on either side the soil is loose, - and since the streets are thronged, the side ways are churned up in the - summer into a slough that requires some daring to cross, and in the winter—the - dry, cold rainless winter, the soil is ground into a powdery dust that the - faintest breeze raises into the air, and many of the breezes of Northern - China are by no means faint. The authorities try to grapple with the evil—at - regular intervals are stationed a couple of men with a pail of muddy - water, which with a basket-work scoop they distribute lavishly in order to - try and keep down the rising dust. But the dust of Peking is a problem - beyond a mere pail and scoop. This spattering of water has about as much - effect upon it as a thimbleful of water flung on a raging fiery furnace. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0057.jpg" alt="0057 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0057.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Still, in spite of the mud and the dust, the streets <span class="pagenum">029</span><a - name="link029" id="link029"></a>are not without charm. They are lined with - trees; indeed I think no city of its size was ever better planted. When - once one has realised how treeless is the greater part of China, this is - rather surprising. For look which way you will from the wall in the summer - and autumn, you feel you might be looking down upon a wood instead of a - city; the roofs of the single-storied houses are hidden by the greenery, - and only here and there peeps out the tiled roof of a temple or hall of - audience with the eaves curving upwards, things of beauty against the - background of green branches. Curiously enough it is only from the walls - that Peking has this aspect. Once in the network of alley-ways it seems as - if a wilderness of houses and shops were crowding one on top of the other, - as if humanity were crushing out every sign of green life. This is because - there is to all things Chinese two sides. There is the life of the - streets, mud-begrimed, dusty, seething with humanity, odoriferous, ragged, - dirty, patient, hardworking; and there is a hidden life shut away in those - networks of narrow alley-ways. - </p> - <p> - There is many a gateway between two gilded shop fronts, some black Chinese - characters on a red background set out the owner's name and titles, - and, passing through, you are straightway admitted into courtyard after - courtyard, some planted with trees, some with flowering plants in pots—because - of the cruel winter all Chinese gardens in the north here are in pots, - sometimes with fruit-trees thick with blossom or heavy with fruit, and in - the paved courtyards, secluded, retired as a convent, you find the various - apartments of a well-arranged Chinese house; there are shady verandas, and - dainty lattice-work <span class="pagenum">030</span><a - name="link030_rdquo_________id_" id="link030_rdquo_________id_"></a>windows - looking out upon miniature landscapes with little hills and streams and - graceful bridges crossing the streams. But only a favoured few may see - these oases. For the majority Peking must be the wide-open boulevards and - narrow hu t'ungs, fronted by low and highly ornamental houses, and - shops so close together that there is no more room for a garden or growing - green life than there is in Piccadilly. True there are trees in these - boulevards, in Morrison Street, in Ha Ta Men Street, in the street of - Eternal Repose that cuts them at right angles, but they would be but small - things in the mass of buildings were it not for the courtyards of the - private houses and temples that are hidden behind. - </p> - <p> - There are, too, in the streets p'ia lous or memorial arches, - generally of three archways with tiled roofs of blue or green or yellow - rising in tiers one above the other, put up in memory of some deed the - Chinese delight to honour. And what the Chinese think worthy of honour, - and what the Westerner delights to honour are generally as far apart, I - find, as the Poles. In Ha Ta Men Street, however, there is a p'ia - lou all of white marble, put up by the last Manchu Emperor in memory of - gallant Baron von Kettler, done to death in the Boxer rising, but there, I - am afraid, Chinese appreciation was quickened by European force. - </p> - <p> - We are apt to think that European influence in China is quite a thing of - yesterday, that Baron von Kettler was the first man of note who perished - in the inevitable conflict, and yet, when I looked at the eastern wall of - the city, I was reminded, with a start, that European influence dates long - before <span class="pagenum">031</span><a name="link031" id="link031"></a>the - Boxer time, long before the days of the Honourable East India Company, and - many must have been the martyrs. There on the eastern wall stands the - observatory, and clear-cut against the bright blue sky are astronomical - instruments with dragons and strange beasts upon them. They were placed - there by the Jesuits in the middle of the seventeenth century, and I know - that those priests could not have attained so much influence without a - bitter baptism of blood. They stand out as landmarks, those orbs and - astrolabes, up and down the wall, even as they have come down through the - centuries; monuments, as enduring as any Chinese p'ia lou, of faith - and suffering; but the Jesuits were not the first to place astronomical - instruments there. The Chinese were not barbarians by any means, though by - some curious freak we Westerners have passed them in the race for - civilisation, and, as long ago as the days of Kublai Khan, they had an - observatory here by the wall. On the ground below, in a tree-shaded - courtyard, there is an astrolabe with a beautiful bronze dragon for a - stand, the dust-laden air of Peking has polished and preserved it, so that - I can see but little difference between it and the newer instruments on - the platform above—newer and yet two hundred and fifty years old. - </p> - <p> - And beyond the observatory in the north-east corner of the city is the - Lama Temple, a temple with picturesque, yellowish-brown tiled roofs and - spacious courtyards, in which are quaint old gnarled trees, and building - after building in that curious state that is part beautiful, part slovenly - decay, ruled over by hundreds of shaven, yellow-robed monks among whom, - they say, it is not safe for a <span class="pagenum">032</span><a - name="link032" id="link032"></a>woman to go by herself. There is the - Temple of Confucius, with surely the most peaceful courtyard in the world, - and there are other temples, temples with courtyards and weird, twisted - coniferous trees in them that are hundreds of years old, pagodas, and - bells, and towers, and to each and all is attached many a story. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0063.jpg" alt="0063 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0063.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Overlooking the great causeway that runs along in front of the Forbidden - City, west past the south main gate, are two towers, one to the north in - the Forbidden City, and one to the south without its walls; and of these - two towers they tell a story of tenderness and longing. Hundreds of years - ago, when the Tartars were first subject to the Ming Emperors, part of - their tribute had to be one of their fairest princesses, who became a - member of the Emperor's harem. - </p> - <p> - The poor little girl's inclinations were not considered, not even - now is the desire of a woman considered in China, and the little Tartar - girl was bound to suffer for her people. She might or might not please the - Emperor, but whether she did or not the position of one who might share - the Emperor's bed was so high that she might never again hold - communion with her own kin. And then there came one little Tartar - princess, who, finding favour with her lord, summoned courage to tell him - of her love and longing. But there are some rules that not even the mighty - Emperor of China may abrogate, and he could not permit her ever again to - mingle with the common herd. One thing only could he do, and that he did. - He built the northern tower looking over the causeway, and the southern - tower on the other side. On the one tower the poor “lest we forget.” - <span class="pagenum">033</span><a name="link033" id="link033"></a>little - secondary wife, lonely and weighted by her high estate, might stand so - that she could see her people on the other, and, though they were too far - apart for caress or spoken word, at least they could see each other and - know that all was well. - </p> - <p> - I do not know whether many of the people who throng the streets from - morning to night, and long after night has fallen, ever give a thought to - the little Tartar princess. The shops, most of them open to the streets, - are full, and on two sides of the main roadways are set up little stalls - for the sale of trifles. Curiously enough, and I suppose it denotes - poverty and lack of home life, about half these stalls are given up to the - cooking and selling of eatables. In Ha Ta Men Street, in Morrison Street, - in the street of Eternal Repose, that is as if we should say in - Piccadilly, in Regent Street, and the Hay-market, and just outside the - gates in the Chinese City, on the path that runs between the canal and the - Tartar wall, you may see these same little stalls. - </p> - <p> - Here is a man who sells tea, keeping his samovar boiling with shovelfuls - of little round hard nodules, coal dust made up with damp clay into balls; - here is another with a small frying-pan in which he is baking great slabs - of wheaten flour cakes, and selling them hot out of the pan; here is - another with an earthenware dish full of an appetising-looking stew of - meat and vegetables, with a hard-boiled egg or two floating on top; - another man has big yellow slabs of cake with great plums in them, another - has sticks of apples and all manner of fruits and vegetables done into - sweetmeats. And here as it is cooked, alfresco, do the people, the men, - for women are seldom seen at the stalls, come and buy, and <span - class="pagenum">034</span><a name="link034" id="link034"></a>eat, without - other equipment than a basin, a pair of chop sticks or a bone spoon like a - ladle supplied by the vendor. - </p> - <p> - They sell, and make, and mend Chinese footgear at these stalls too; there - is a fortune-teller, one who will read your future with a chart covered - with hieroglyphics spread out on the bare ground; there is the - letter-writer for the unlearned; there are primitive little gaming-tables; - and there are cheap, very cheap cigarettes and tobacco of brands unknown - in America or Egypt. - </p> - <p> - I have said there is a lack of home life, and thought, like the arrogant - Westerner I am, that the Chinese do not appreciate it, but only the other - day I heard a little story that made me think that the son of Han, like - everyone else, longs for a home and someone in it he can call his very - own. - </p> - <p> - One day a missionary teacher heard an outcry behind her, and turning, saw - a blind woman, unkempt and filthy and whining pitifully. “Oh who - will help me? Who will help me?” she cried, shrinking away from the - dog that was making dashes at the basket she carried for doles. - </p> - <p> - The missionary called off her dog, and reassured the woman. The dog would - not hurt her. He was only interested in the food in her basket. “Then,” - said she, “I went on, because I was in a hurry, but as I went I - thought how horrible the woman looked, and that I ought to go back and - tell her, 'God is Love.'” - </p> - <p> - So the missionary stopped and talked religion to that blind beggar, and - told her to come up to the Mission Station. She looked after her soul, but - also, out of the kindness of her heart, she looked <span class="pagenum">035</span><a - name="link035" id="link035"></a>after her body, and when the beggar was - established, a woman of means with a whole dollar—two shillings—a - week, she realised that God was indeed Love, and became a fervent - Christian. - </p> - <p> - “Clean,” I asked, being of an inquiring turn of mind, and her - saviour laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you wouldn't call her clean, but it is a vast - improvement on what she was.” - </p> - <p> - The woman wasn't young, as Chinese count youth in a woman, she wasn't - good-looking, she wasn't in any way attractive, but she was a woman - of means, and presently her guardian was embarrassed by an offer from a - man of dim sight, for the hand and heart of her protégée. The missionary - was horrified. The woman was married already. The would-be bridegroom, the - prospective bride, and all their friends smiled, and seemed to think that - since her last alliance wasn't a real marriage it should be no bar. - Still the lady was firm, the woman had lived with the man for some years - and it was a marriage in her humble opinion. So the disappointed - candidates for matrimony went their way. However, a few weeks later the - woman came to her guardian with a face wreathed in smiles, “that - thing,” she said, she didn't even call him a man, that thing - was dead, had died the day before, and there was now no reason why she - should not marry again! There was no reason, and within ten days the - nuptials were celebrated, and the blind woman went to live with her new - husband. - </p> - <p> - I asked was it a success and the missionary smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is certainly a success, only her husband complains she eats - too much.” <span class="pagenum">036</span><a name="link036" - id="link036"></a>I said there were always drawbacks when a man married for - money! - </p> - <p> - But as a matter of fact the marriage was a great success. I saw the happy - couple afterwards, and the woman looked well-cared for and neat, and her - husband helped her up some steps quite as carefully as any man of the West - might have done. Truly the Fates were kind to the blind beggar when they - put her in the way of that missionary. She is far, far happier probably - than the bride of a higher class who goes to a new home, and, - henceforward, as long as the older woman lives, is but a servant to her - mother-in-law. True the husband had complained his new wife ate too much. - But Chinese etiquette does not seem to think it at all the correct thing - to praise anything that belongs to one. And for a husband to show - affection for his wife, whatever he may feel, is a most extraordinary - thing. The other day a woman was working in the courtyard of a house when - there came in her husband who had been away for close on six months. Did - they rush at one another as Westerners would have done? Not at all. He - crossed the courtyard to announce himself to his master, and she went on - with her work. Each carefully refrained from looking at the other, because - had they looked people might have thought they cared for each other. And - it is in the highest degree indelicate for a husband or wife to express - affection for each other. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0070.jpg" alt="0070 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0070.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - In truth, once my eyes were opened, I soon grew to think that, from the - point of view of the sightseer, there are few places in the world to - compare with Peking, and the greatest interest lies in the people—the - crowded humanity of the streets. Of course <span class="pagenum">037</span><a - name="link037" id="link037"></a>I have seen crowded humanity—after - London how can any busy city present any novelty—and yet, here in - Peking, a new note is struck. Not all at once did I realise it; my mind - went groping round asking, what is the difference between these people and - those one sees in the streets of London or Paris? They are a different - type, but that is nothing, it is only skin deep. What is it then? One - thing cannot but strike the new-comer, and that is that they are a - peaceable and orderly crowd, more amenable to discipline, or rather they - discipline themselves better, than any crowd in the world. Not but that - there are police. At every few yards the police of the New Republic, in - dusty black bound with yellow in the winter, and in khaki in the summer, - with swords strapped to their waists, direct a traffic that is perfectly - capable of directing itself; and at night, armed with rifles, mounted - bands of them patrol the streets, the most law-abiding streets apparently - in the world. In spite of the swarms of tourists, who are more and more - pouring into Peking, a foreigner is still a thing to be wondered at, to be - followed and stared at; but there is no rudeness, no jostling. He has only - to put out his hand to intimate to the following crowd that he wishes a - little more space, that their company is a little too odoriferous, and - they fall back at once, only to press forward again the next moment. Was - ever there such a kindly, friendly nation? And yet—and yet—What - is it I find wrong? They are a highly civilised people, from the President - who reigns like a dictator, to the humble rickshaw coolie, who guards my - dress from the filth of the street. He will hawk, and spit, but he is as - <span class="pagenum">038</span><a name="link038" id="link038"></a>courtly - a gentleman as one of the bucks of the Prince Regent's Court, who - probably did much the same thing. It dawned upon me slowly. These people - have achieved that refinement we of the West have been striving for and - have not attained as yet. It is well surely to make perfection an aim in - life, and yet I feel something has gone from these people in the process - of refining. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred they can be trusted to - keep order, and the hundredth probably not all the police in the capital - could hold them. The very rickshaw coolies, when they fall out, trust to - the sweet reasonableness of argument, even though that argument Waste - interminable hours. A European, an Englishman or an American probably, - comes hectoring down the street—no other word describes his - attitude, when it is contrasted with that of the courteous Orientals round - him. On the smallest provocation, far too small a provocation, he - threatens to kick this coolie, he swings that one out of the way and, - instead of being shocked, I am distinctly relieved. Here is an exhibition - of force, restrained force, that is welcome as a rude breeze, fresh from - the sea or the mountains, is welcome in a heated, scented room. These - people, even the poorer people of the streets, are suffering from - over-civilisation, from over-refinement. They need a touch of the - primitive savage to make the red blood run in their veins. Not but that - they can be savage, so savage on occasion, the hundredth occasion when no - police could hold them, that their cruelty is such that there is not a man - who knows them who would not keep the last cartridge in his revolver to - save himself from the refinement of their tender mercies. <span - class="pagenum">039</span><a name="link039" id="link039"></a>But I did not - make this reflection the first, or even the tenth time, I walked in the - streets. It was a thing that grew upon me gradually. By the time I found I - was making comparisons, the comparisons were already made and my opinions - were formed. I looked at these strange men and women, especially at the - small-footed women, and wondered what effect the condemning of fifty per - cent of the population to years of torture had had upon the mental growth - of this nation, and I raised my eyes to the mighty walls that surrounded - the city, and knew that the nation had done wonderful things. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—THE WALLS AND GATES OF BABYLON - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">040</span><a name="link040" id="link040"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The mud walls of Kublai Khan—Only place for a comfortable - promenade—The gardens on the walls—Guarding the city from - devils—The dirt of the Chinese—The gates—The camels—In - the Chien Men—The patient Chinese women—The joys of living in - a walled city—A change in Chinese feeling.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>re they like the - walls and gates of Babylon, I wonder, these walls and gates of the capital - city of China. I thought so when first I saw them, and the thought remains - with me still. Behind such walls as these surely sat Ahasuerus, King of - Babylon; behind such walls as these dwelt the thousands of serfs who - toiled, and suffered, and died, that he might be a mighty king. They are - magnificent, a wonder of the world, and it seemed to me that the men of - the nation who built them must glory in them. But all do not. I sat one - day at tiffin at a friend's house, and opposite me sat a Chinese - doctor, a graduate of Cambridge, who spoke English with the leisurely - accent of the cultivated Englishman, and he spoke of these mighty walls. - </p> - <p> - “If I had my way,” said he, “they should be levelled - with the ground. I would not leave one stone upon another.” And I - wondered why. They shut out the fresh air, he said, but I wondered, in my - own mind, whether he did not feel that they <span class="pagenum">041</span><a - name="link041_rdquo_________id_" id="link041_rdquo_________id_"></a>hemmed - the people in, caged and held them as it were, in an archaic state of - civilisation, that it is best should pass away. They can shut out so - little air, and they can only cage and hold those who desire to be so - held. - </p> - <p> - Kublai Khan outlined the greater part of them in mud in the thirteenth - century, and then, two hundred years after, came the Ming conquerors who - faced the great Tartar's walls with grey Chinese brick, curtailing - them a little to the north, and as the Mings left them, so are they to-day - when the foreign nations from the West, and that other Asiatic nation from - the East, have built their Legations—pledges of peace—beneath - them and, armed to the teeth, hold, against the Chinese, the Legation - Quarter and a mile of their own wall. - </p> - <p> - Over fifty feet high are these Tartar walls, at their base they are sixty - feet through, at their top they are between forty and fifty feet across, - more than a hundred if you measure their breadth at the great buttresses, - and they are paved with the grey Chinese bricks that face their sides. As - in most Chinese cities, the top of the wall is the only place where a - comfortable promenade can be had, and the mile-long strip between the - Chien Men, the main gate, and the Ha Ta Men, the south-eastern gate—the - strip held by the Legations—is well kept; that is to say, a broad - pathway, along which people can walk, is kept smooth and neat and free - from the vegetation that flourishes on most of the wall top. This - vegetation adds greatly to its charm. The mud of the walls is the rich - alluvial deposit of the great plain on which Peking stands, and when it - has been well watered by the summer rains, a <span class="pagenum">042</span><a - name="link042" id="link042"></a>luxuriant green growth, a regular jungle, - forces its way up through the brick pavement. The top of the wall upon a - cool autumn day, before the finger of decay has touched this growth, is a - truly delightful garden. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0078.jpg" alt="0078 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0078.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - It was my great pleasure to walk there, for there were all manner of - flowering green shrubs and tall grasses, bound together by blooming - morning glory, its cup-shaped flowers blue, and pink, and white, and white - streaked with pink; there were even small trees, white poplar and the - ailanthus, or tree of heaven, throwing out shady branches that afforded - shelter from the rays of the brilliant sun. They are not adequate shelter, - though, in a rainstorm. Indeed it is very awkward to be caught in a - rainstorm upon the walls out of the range of the rickshaws, as I was more - than once, for in the hot weather I could never resist the walls, the only - place in Peking where a breath of fresh air is to be found, and, since it - is generally hottest before the rain, on several occasions I was caught, - returning drenched and dripping. It did not matter as a rule, but once - when I was there with a companion a more than ordinary storm caught us. We - sheltered under an ailanthus tree, and as the wind was strong, umbrellas - were useless. My companion began to get agitated. - </p> - <p> - “If this goes on,” said he, “I shan't be able to - go out to-morrow. I have only one coat.” He had come up from - Tientsin for a couple of days. But for me the case was much more serious. - I had on a thin white muslin that began to cling round my figure, and I - thought anxiously that if it went on much longer I should not be able to - go into the <span class="pagenum">043</span><a name="link043" id="link043"></a>hotel - that day! However, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, the sun - came out in all his fierceness, and before we reached the hotel I was most - unbecomingly rough dried. - </p> - <p> - Things are ordered on the Legation wall, the pathway between the greenery - runs straight as a die, but beyond, on the thirteen miles of wall under - Chinese care, the greenery runs riot, and only a narrow pathway meanders - between the shrubs and grass, just as a man may walk carelessly from - station to station; and sometimes hidden among the greenery, sometimes - standing out against it, are here and there great upright slabs of stone, - always in pairs, relics of the old fortifications, for surely these are - all that remain of the catapults with which of old the Chinese and Tartars - defended their mighty city. - </p> - <p> - The walls stand square, north and south, and east and west, only at the - north-west corner does the line slant out of the square a little, for - every Chinese knows that is the only sure way to keep devils out of a - city, and certainly the capital must be so guarded. Whatever I saw and - wondered at, I always came back to the walls, the most wonderful sight of - a most wonderful city, and I always found something new to entrance me. - The watch-towers, the ramps, the gates, the suggestion of old-world story - that met me at every turn. In days not so very long ago these walls were - kept by the Manchu bannermen, whose special duty it was to guard them, and - no other person was allowed upon them, under pain of death, for exactly - the same reason that all the houses in the city are of one story: it was - not seemly that any mere commoner should <span class="pagenum">044</span><a - name="link044" id="link044"></a>be able to look down upon the Emperor, and - no women, even the women of the bannermen, were allowed to set foot there, - for it appeared that the God of War, who naturally took an interest in - these defences, objected to women. - </p> - <p> - Now little companies of soldiers take the place of those old-world - bannermen. They look out at the life of the city, at their fellows - drilling on the great plain beyond, at the muddy canal, that is like a - river, making its way across the khaki-coloured plain, that in the summer - is one vast crop of kaoliang—one vivid note of green. Wonderful - fertility you may see from the walls of the Chinese capital. Looking one - feels that the rush of the nations to finance the country is more than - justified. Surely here is the truest of wealth. But the soldiers on the - walls are children. China does not think much of her soldiers, and the - language is full of proverbs about them the reverse of complimentary. - “Good iron is not used for nails,” is one of them, “and - good men do not become soldiers.” How true that may be I do not - know, but these men seemed good enough, only just the babies a - fellow-countryman talking of them to me once called them. They know little - of their own country, less than nothing of any other. I feel they should - not be dressed in shabby khaki like travesties of the men of Western - armies, tunics and sandals and bows and arrows would be so much more in - keeping with their surroundings. And yet so small are they, like ants at - the foot of an oak, that their garb scarcely matters, they but emphasise - the vastness of the walls on which they stand; walls builded probably by - men differing but little from these soldiers of New China. <span - class="pagenum">045</span><a name="link045_rdquo_________id_" - id="link045_rdquo_________id_"></a>I photographed a little company one - bright day in the early spring—it is hardly necessary to say it was - bright, because all days at that season, and indeed at most seasons, are - brilliantly, translucently bright. My little company dwelt in a low - building made up apparently of lattice-work and paper close to the - observatory, and evidently word went round that the wonderful thing had - been done, and, for all the charm of the walls, it was not a thing that - was often done. I suppose the average tourist does not care to waste his - plates on commonplace little soldiers in badly made khaki. When next I - appeared with the finished picture all along my route soldiers came and - asked courteously, and plainly, for all I knew not one word of their - tongue, what the result had been. I showed them, of course, and my - following grew as I passed on. They knew those who had been taken, which - was lucky, for I certainly could not tell t'other from which' - and, when I arrived at their little house, smiling claimants stretched out - eager hands. I knew the number I had taken and I had a copy apiece. And - very glad I was, too, when they all ranged up and solemnly saluted me, and - then they brought me tea in their handleless cups, and I, unwashed though - I felt those cups were, drank to our good-fellowship in the excellent - Chinese tea that needs neither sugar nor milk to make it palatable. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0084.jpg" alt="0084 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0084.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - There were other people, too, on the walls in the early springtime, - coolies clearing away the dead growth that had remained over from the past - summer. It was so light it seemed hardly worth gathering, and those - gleaners first taught me to realise something of the poverty of China, the - desperate poverty that <span class="pagenum">046</span><a - name="link046_rdquo_________id_" id="link046_rdquo_________id_"></a>dare - not waste so much as a handful of dead grass. They gathered the refuse - into heaps, tied it to each end of their bamboos, and, slinging it over - their shoulders, trudged with it down one of the ramps into the city. Ever - and again in my peregrinations, I would come across one of them sitting in - the sun, going over his padded coat in the odd moments he could spare from - his toil. For the lower-class Chinese understands not the desirability of - water, as applied either to himself or his clothes, and, as he certainly - never changes those clothes while one shred will hold to another, the - moment must arrive, sooner or later, when his discomfort is desperate, and - something must be done. He is like the <i>wonks</i>, the great yellow - scavenger dogs that haunt the streets of Peking and all Chinese cities, he - sits down and scratches himself, and goes through his clothes. At least - that was my opinion. A friend of mine who had served for some years in the - interior with the great company, the British and American Tobacco Company, - that, with the missionaries, shares the honour of doing pioneer work in - China, says I am wrong, Chinamen don't mind such a little thing as - that. - </p> - <p> - “Those carters,” said he, “in the interior as it gets - colder just pile one garment on over another, and never take anything off, - and by February—phew! If you want to smell a tall smell”—I - said I didn't, the smells of Peking were quite recondite enough for - me—but he paid no attention—“you just go and stand over - the k'ang in a room where five or six of them are crowded together.” - </p> - <p> - And the carters, it seems, are highly respectable, sometimes well-to-do - men. I felt I had a lot to <span class="pagenum">047</span><a - name="link047" id="link047"></a>learn about the Chinese, these men whose - ancestors had built the walls. - </p> - <p> - Of course there are gates in the walls, nine gates in all in the Tartar - City, great archways with iron-studded doors and watch-towers above. I - count it one of the assets of my life, that I have stood under those - archways, where for centuries has ebbed and flowed the traffic of a - Babylonish city, old world still in this twentieth century. They are - lighted with electric light now, instead of with pitch-pine torches, but - no matter, the grey stones are there. - </p> - <p> - The gate of a city like Peking is a great affair. Over every archway is a - watch-tower, with tiled roofs rising tier above tier, and portholes filled - with the painted muzzles of guns. Painted guns in the year of our Lord - 1914! So is the past bound up with the present in China! And these are not - entirely relics of the past like the catapult stones. In the year 1900, - when the Boxers looted the Chinese City, and the Europeans in the - Legations north of the Tartar wall trembled for their lives, the looters - burned the watch-tower on the Chien Men, all that was burnable of it, and, - when peace was restored, the Chinese set to work and built their - many-tiered watch-tower, built it in all the glory of red, and green, and - blue, and gold, and in the portholes they put the same painted cannon that - had been there in past ages, not only to strike terror into the enemy, but - also to impress the God of War with an idea of their preparedness. And yet - there was hardly any need of sham, for these gateways must have been - formidable things to negotiate before the days of heavy artillery, for - each is protected by a curtain wall as high and as thick as the main wall, - and in <span class="pagenum">048</span><a name="link048" id="link048"></a>them - are archways, sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes three ways out, but - always there is a great square walled off in front of the gate so that the - traffic must pause, and may be stopped before it passes under the main - archway into the city. And these archways look down upon a traffic - differing but little from that which has passed down through all the ages. - </p> - <p> - Here come the camels from Mongolia, ragged and dusty, laden with grain, - and wool, and fruit, and the camels from the Western Hills, laden with - those “black stones” that Marco Polo noted seven hundred years - ago, and told his fellow-countrymen they burned for heating purposes in - Cambulac. You may see them down by the Ha Ta Men preparing to start out on - their long journey, you may see them in the Imperial City, bringing in - their wares, but outside the south-western gate, by the watch-tower that - guards the corner of the wall, they are to be seen at their best. Here, - where the dust is heaped high under the clear blue sky of Northern China, - come slowly, in stately fashion, the camels, as they have come for - thousands of years. The man who leads them is ragged in the blue of the - peasant, his little eyes are keen, and patient, and cunning, and there is - a certain stolidity in his demeanour; life can hold but few pleasures for - him, one would think, and yet he is human, he cannot go on superior, - regardless of outside things, as does his string of beasts of burden. The - crenellated walls rise up behind them, the watch-tower with its painted - guns frowns down upon them, and the camels, the cord fastened to the tail - of the one in front, passing through the nostrils of the one <span - class="pagenum">049</span><a name="link049" id="link049"></a>behind, go - steadily on. They are like the walls, they are older than the walls, - possibly they may outlive the walls; silently, surely, in the soft, - heaped-up dust they move; so they came a thousand years ago, two thousand - years ago, before the very dawn of history. - </p> - <p> - These Babylonish gates have for me a never-ending attraction. I look and - look at the traffic, and always find something new. One sunny morning I - went and sat in the Chien Men, just to watch the never-ending throng that - made their way backwards and forwards between the Chinese and the Tartar - Cities. I took up my position in the centre of the great square, large as - Waterloo Place, enclosed by the curtain wall, and the American Guard - looked down upon me and wondered, for they watch the traffic day in and - day out, and so long as it is peaceful, they see nothing to remark upon in - it. There are three gates in the curtain wall, the one to the south is - never opened except for the highest in the land to pass through, but from - the east gate the traffic goes from the Tartar to the Chinese City, - through the west it comes back again, meeting and passing under the great - archway that leads to the Tartar City. And all day long that square is - thronged. East and west of the main archway are little temples with the - golden-brown roofs of all imperial temples, the Goddess of Mercy is - enshrined here, and there are bronze vases and flowering plants, and green - trees in artistic pots, all going to make a quiet little resting-place - where a man may turn aside for a moment from the rush and roar of the - city, burn aromatic incense sticks, and invoke good fortune for the - enterprise on which he is <span class="pagenum">050</span><a - name="link050_rdquo_________id_" id="link050_rdquo_________id_"></a>engaged. - Do the people believe in the Goddess of Mercy, I wonder? About as much as - I do, I suspect. The Chinaman, said a Chinese to me once, is the most - materialistic of heathens, believing in little that he cannot see, and - handle, and explain; but all of us, Eastern or Western, are human, and - have the ordinary man's desire for the pitiful, kindly care of some - unseen Power. It is only natural. I, too, Westerner as I am, daughter of - the newest of nations, burned incense sticks at the shrine of the Goddess - of Mercy, and put up a little prayer that the work upon which I was - engaged should be successful. Men have prayed here through the centuries. - The prayer of so great a multitude must surely reach the Most High, and - what matter by what name He is known. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0090.jpg" alt="0090 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0090.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Besides the temples there are little guard-houses for the soldiers in the - square; guard-houses with delicate, dainty lattice-work windows, and there - are signboards with theatre notices in Chinese on gay red and yellow - paper. There are black and yellow uniformed military police, there are - grey-coated little soldiers with just a dash of red about their shabby, - ill-fitting uniforms, and there are the people passing to and fro intent - on their business, the earning of a cash, or of thousands of dollars. The - earning of a cash, one would think mostly, looking at many a thing of - shreds and patches that passes by. To Western eyes the traffic is archaic, - no great motors rush about carrying crowds at once, it consists of - rickshaws with one or, at most, a couple of fares, of Peking carts with - blue tilts and a sturdy pony or a handsome mule in the shafts, and the - driver seated cross-legged in fronts of longer carts <span class="pagenum">051</span><a - name="link051" id="link051"></a>with wheels studded, as the Peking carts - are, and loaded with timber, with lime, and all manner of merchandise, and - drawn sometimes by three or four underfed little horses, but mostly by a - horse or mule in the shafts and a mule or a donkey so far in front one - wonders he can exert any influence on the traction at all. The rickshaw - coolies clang their bells, men on bicycles toot their horns, every donkey, - and most horses and mules, have rings of bells round their necks, and - everyone shouts at the top of his voice, while forty feet up on the wall, - a foreign soldier, one of the Americans who hold the Chien Men, is - practising all his bugle calls. - </p> - <p> - “Turn out, turn out Mess, mess,” proclaims the bugle shrilly - above. “Clang, clang, clang,” ring the rickshaw bells. A - postman in shabby blue, with bands of dirty white, passes on his bicycle - and blows his horn, herald of the ways of the West. A brougham comes along - with sides all of glass, such as the Chinaman loves. In it is a man in a - modern tall hat, a little out-of-date; on the box, are two men in grey - silk, orthodox Chinese costume, queue and all, but alas for - picturesqueness they have crowned their heads with hideous tourist caps, - the mafoo behind on the step, hanging on to the roof by a strap, has on a - very ordinary wideawake, his business it is to jump down and lead the - horses round a corner—no self-respecting Chinese horse can negotiate - a corner without assistance—and the finishing touch is put by the - coachman, also in a tourist cap, who clangs a bell with as much fervour as - a rickshaw coolie. Before this carriage trot outriders. “Lend light, - lend light,” they cry, which is the Eastern way of saying “By - your leave, by your <span class="pagenum">052</span><a name="link052" - id="link052"></a>leave. My master a great man comes.” After the - coach come more riders. It may be a modern carriage in which lie rides, - but the important man in China can no more move without his outriders and - his following, than could one of the kings or nobles of Nineveh or - Babylon. - </p> - <p> - More laden carts come in from the west, and the policeman, in dusty black - and yellow, directs them, though they really need no directing. The - average Chinese mind is essentially orderly, and never dreams of - questioning rules. Is there not a stone exactly in the middle of the road - under the great archway, and does not every man know that those going east - must go one way, and those going west the other? What need for direction? - An old-fashioned fat Chinese with shaven head and pigtail and sleeveless - black satin waistcoat over his long blue coat comes along. He - half-smothers a small donkey with a ring of jingling bells round its neck, - a coolie follows him in rags, but that does not matter, spring is in the - land, and he is nearly hidden by the lilac bloom he carries, another comes - along with a basket strapped on his back and a scoop in his hand, he is - collecting the droppings of the animals, either for manure or to make - argol for fuel, a stream of rickshaws swerve out of the way of a blind - man, ragged, bent, old, who with lute in one hand and staff in the other - taps his way along. - </p> - <p> - “Hsien Sheng, before born,” he is addressed by the coolies - directing him, for his affliction brings him outward respect from these - courteous people. - </p> - <p> - In the rickshaws are all manner of people: Manchu women with high - head-dresses in the form of a cross, highly painted faces and the gayest - of <span class="pagenum">053</span><a name="link053" id="link053"></a>long - silk coats, shy Chinese women, who from their earliest childhood have been - taught that a woman must efface herself. Their hair is decked with - flowers, and dressed low on the nape of their necks, their coats are of - soberer colours, and their feet are pitifully maimed. “For every - small foot,” says a Chinese proverb, “there is a jar full of - tears.” The years of agony every one of those women must have lived - through, but their faces are impassive, smiling with a surface smile that - gives no indication of the feelings behind. - </p> - <p> - The Chien Men, because it opens only from the Tartar to the Chinese City, - is not closed, but eight o'clock sees all the gates in the - twenty-three miles of outer wall closed for the night, and very awkward it - sometimes is for the foreigner, who is not used to these restrictions, for - neither threats nor bribes will open those gates once they are shut. - </p> - <p> - I remember on one occasion a young fellow, who had lingered too long among - the delights of the city, found himself, one pleasant warm summer evening, - just outside the Shun Chih Men as the gates of the Chinese City were - closing. He wanted to get back to his cottage at the race-course but the - guardians of the gate were obdurate. “It was an order and the gates - were closed till daylight next morning.” He could not climb the - walls, and even if he could, the two ponies he had with him could not. He - probably used up all the bad language at his command, if I know anything - about him, and he grew more furious when he recollected he had guests - coming to dinner. Then he began to think, and remembered that the railway - came through the wall. Inspection showed him that there <span - class="pagenum">054</span><a name="link054" id="link054"></a>were gates - across it, also fast closed, and here he got his second wind, and quite a - fresh assortment of bad language, which was checked by the whistle of an - approaching train. Then a bright idea occurred to him. Where a train could - go, a pony could go, and he stood close to the line in the darkness, - instructed his mafoo to keep close beside him, and the moment the train - passed, got on to the line and followed in its wake, regardless of the - protests of raging gatekeepers. He got through the gate triumphantly, but - then, alas, his troubles began, for the railway line had not been built - with a view to taking ponies through the wall. There were rocks and barbed - wire, there were fences, and there were mud holes, and his guests are wont - to relate how as they were sitting down to table under the hospitable - guidance of his No. 1 boy, there arrived on the scene a man, mud to the eyes—it - was summertime when there is plenty of mud in the country round Peking—and - silent, because no profanity of which he was capable could possibly have - done justice to his feelings. Such are some of the joys of living in a - Babylonish city. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0096.jpg" alt="0096 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0096.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">055</span><a name="link055" id="link055"></a>When I - had sat an hour in the gate I rose to go, and the rickshaw coolie and I - disagreed as to the fare. A rickshaw coolie and I never did agree as to - the fare. Gladly would I pay double to avoid a row, but the coolie, taken - from the Legation Quarter of Peking where the tourists spoil him, would - complain and try to extort more if you offered him a dollar for a ten-cent - ride, therefore the thing was not to be avoided. I did not see my way to - getting clear, and a crowd began to gather. Then there came along a - Chinese, a well-dressed young man. - </p> - <p> - His long petticoats of silk were slit at the sides, he had on a silken - jacket and a little round cap. He wore no queue, because few of the men of - his generation, and of his rank wear a queue, and he spoke English as good - as my own. - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter?” I told him. “How much did you pay - him?” - </p> - <p> - “Forty cents.” - </p> - <p> - “It is too much,” said he, and he called a policeman, and that - coolie was driven off with contumely. But it marked a wonderful stride in - Chinese feeling that a Chinese should come to the assistance of a - foreigner in distress. Not very long ago he would have passed on the other - side, scorning the woman of the outer barbarians, glad in his heart that - she should be “done” even by one so low in the social scale as - a rickshaw coolie, a serf of the great city these ancient walls enclose. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—THE LEGATION QUARTER OF PEKING - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">056</span><a name="link056" id="link056"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>A forgotten tragedy—The troops—“Lest We Forget”—The - fortified wall—“No low-class Chinese”—The last - thing in the way of insults—A respecter of power—Racing - stables—Pekin s'amuse—Chinese gentleman on a waltz—Musical - comedy—The French of the Far East—Chances of an outbreak—No - wounded.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t Canton a few - years since,” wrote Sir George Staunton, recording the visit of the - first British Ambassador to the Emperor of China in 1798, “an - accident happened which had well-nigh put a stop to our foreign trade. - Evils of every kind fraught with this tendency are to be apprehended, and - ought to be particularly guarded against, especially by a commercial - nation. On some day by rejoicing in firing the guns of one of those - vessels which navigates between the British settlements in India and - Canton, but not in the employment of the East India Company, two Chinese, - in a boat lying near the vessel, were accidentally killed by the gunner. - The crime of murder is never pardoned in China. The Viceroy of the - Province, fired with indignation at the supposed atrocity, demanded the - perpetrator of the deed, or the person of him who ordered it. The event - was stated in remonstrance to be purely accidental but the Viceroy, - supposing it to have been done from a wicked disposition, still persisted - in his <span class="pagenum">057</span><a name="link057" id="link057"></a>demand, - and to assure himself of that object, he seized one of the principal - supercargoes. The other factories being alarmed, united themselves with - the English as in a common cause, and seemed disposed to resist the - intentions of the Viceroy who on his part arranged his troops on the banks - of the river to force a compliance. It was at last deemed expedient on - principles of policy, to give up the gunner with scarce a glimmering of - hope that his life would be spared.” - </p> - <p> - Later on in a casual footnote he records that their worst fears had been - realised, and the unfortunate gunner, given up, let us hope, not so much - from motives of policy as to save the supercargo, had been done to death. - </p> - <p> - That incident, to my mind, explains the Legation Quarter of Peking to-day. - Of course the Legation, in its present form, dates only from the Boxer - rising, but the germ of it was there when the merchants of the assembled - nations felt themselves compelled to sacrifice the careless gunner “from - motives of policy.” One hundred and twenty years ago the Western - nations were only a stage removed from the barbaric civilisation the - Chinese had reached two or three thousand years before, but still they - were moving onward, and they felt they must combine if they would trade - with this rich land, and yet protect their subjects and their goods. And - so they did combine, and there arose that curious state of affairs between - the foreigners and the people of the land that has held for many years, - that holds in no other land, and that has crystallised in the Legation - Quarter of Peking. - </p> - <p> - Suppose in London all the great nations of the <span class="pagenum">058</span><a - name="link058" id="link058"></a>earth took a strip of the town, extending - say from Marble Arch to Hyde Park Corner, and from Park Lane to Bond - Street, held it and fortified it heavily, barring out the inhabitants, not - wholly, but by certain regulations that prevented them having the upper - hand. The thing is unthinkable, yet that is exactly what has happened in - Peking. Against the Tartar wall, from the Chien Men to the Ha Ta Men, the - nations have taken a parallelogram of ground all but a mile square, they - have heavily fortified it, on three sides they have cleared a broad glacis - on which no houses may be built, and they have there a body of troops with - which they could overawe if not hold all the town. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0102.jpg" alt="0102 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0102.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - No man knows exactly how many men the Japanese have, but supposing they - are on a par with the other nations, there are at least two thousand five - hundred men armed to the teeth and kept at the highest pitch of perfection - in the Legation Quarter. Living there is like living in an armed camp. You - cannot go in or out without passing forts or guns, in the streets you meet - ammunition wagons, baggage wagons, Red Cross wagons, and at every turn are - soldiers, soldiers of all the European nations that have any standing at - all, soldiers from America, soldiers from Japan; they are doing sentry-go - at the various Legations, they are drilling, they are marching, they are - shooting all day long. In one corner of the British Legation they keep - untouched a piece of the old shot-torn wall of 1900 and painted on it, in - big black letters, is the legend, “Lest We Forget,” a reminder - always, if the nations needed a reminder, of the days of 1900, of the - terrible days that may be repeated any time this <span class="pagenum">059</span><a - name="link059" id="link059"></a>peace-loving nation drifts into an - anti-foreign outbreak. I was going to write it is almost insulting; but it - is insulting, and this armed Legation Quarter must be in truth cruelly - galling to the better-class, educated Chinese. They must long to oust - these arrogant men from the West and their neighbour from the East, who - thus lord it over them in the very heart of their own city. Even the wall, - the great Tartar wall built first by Kublai Khan, and finished by the Ming - conquerors, comes under foreign domination from the Ha Ta Men to the Chien - Men. The watch-tower over the Ha Ta Men is still in the hands of the - Chinese, and like most things Chinese is all out of repair. The red - lacquer is cracked, the gold is faded, the grass grows on the tiled roofs, - in the winter dried-up and faded, in the summer lush and green, and for - all the Chinese soldiers hold it, it is desolate and a thing of the past - But a hundred yards or so to the west, is the German post. Always are - armed men there with the eagle on their helmets, always an armed sentry - marches up and down, keeping watch and ward. No great need for them to - hold the Ha Ta Men, their guns dominate it, and below in the town the - French hold carefully the fortified eastern side of the Legation Quarter. - The centre of that strip of wall, held by the Japanese, is marked by an - iron fence called, I am told, a “traverse.” There is a gate in - it, and across the path to that gate, so that it may not be so easily got - through, is built up a little wall of brick the height of a man. In the - summertime the grass grows on it green and fresh, and all the iron bars of - that fence and gate are wreathed in morning glory. The Japanese are not so - much in evidence as the <span class="pagenum">060</span><a - name="link060_rdquo_________id_" id="link060_rdquo_________id_"></a>efficient - Germans or the smart Americans, but I am told they are more than keen, and - would gladly and effectually hold the whole wall would the other nations - allow them. At the Chien Men, the western end of the mile-long strip of - wall are the Americans, tall, lean, smart, capable men in khaki, with - slouch hats turned up at the sides, clean-shaven faces and the sound in - their voices that makes of their English another tongue. In the troubles - of 1912, when fires were breaking out all over the city, and every - foreigner fled for safety to his Legation, Uncle Sam, guarding the western - end of the wall overlooking those Legations, seized the beautiful new - watch-tower on the Chien Men, his soldiers established themselves there, - and they hold it still. It dominates their Legation they say with reason, - for their own safety they must hold it, and the Chinese acquiesce, not - because they like it, but because they must. Periodically representations - come in, all is quiet now, the Americans may as well give up the main - gate, or rather watch-tower, for they do not hold the main gate, only the - tower that overlooks it. But the answer is always the same, it overlooks - their Legation, they must hold it. They have a wireless telegraph post - there and a block-house, and the regulations for the sentry, couched in - cold, calm, official language, are an insult to the friendly nation that - gives them hospitality, or would be so, if that nation had not shown - itself incapable of controlling the passions of its own aroused people. - The sentry clad in khaki in summer, in blue in winter, marching up and - down by the watch-tower, magnificent in its gorgeous Eastern decorations - of blue, and green, and red, and barbaric gold, must report at once - anything <span class="pagenum">061</span><a name="link061" id="link061"></a>unusual - taking place in the gate below, any large gathering of Chinese, any - unusual commotion, but above all upon that wall, that wall that belongs to - them and is the wall of their capital city, he must not allow, without a - permit, any Chinese. The wording of the order runs, “No low-class - Chinese,” but the definition of low class is left to the discretion - of the soldier, and he is not likely to risk a reproof from those in - authority over him by being too lax. With my own eyes have I seen a - Chinese, well-dressed in European clothes, turned back by the sentry from - the ramp when he would have walked upon the wall. He looked surprised, he - was with European friends, the order could not apply to him, but the - sentry was firm. He had his orders, “No Chinese,” and without - a special permit he must see them carried out. It seemed cruel, and - unnecessarily humiliating, but on the central ramp are still the places - where the Americans, seeking some material for a barricade, fighting to - save themselves from a ghastly death, tore out the bricks from the side of - the great wall. Other nations beside Britain, write in their actions, if - not on their walls: “Lest We Forget!” The lower-class Chinese - probably do not mind the prohibition. It is considered bad manners for a - Chinaman to walk upon the wall, because he thereby overlooks the private - houses below, but in these days of the New Republic possibly good manners - are not so much considered as formerly, and since the Chinese have never - been allowed upon the wall they probably do not realise that thirteen - miles of it are free to them, if they care to go there. Some few I know - do, because I have met there men gathering the dried vegetation for fuel, - and I have <span class="pagenum">062</span><a name="link062" id="link062"></a>seen - one or two beggars, long-haired, filthy men in the frowsiest of rags, but - the first have probably got permission from the soldiers, and the latter, - seeing foreigners there, have most likely been tempted by the hope of what - to them is a lavish dole, and, finding no harm happen, have come again. I - may be wrong, of course, but I hardly think death can have much terror for - the Chinese beggar, life must hold so very little for him. Those who, - having dared their own portion of the wall with impunity, find the foreign - mile still a forbidden place to them, probably put it in the same category - as the Forbidden City, and never realise that it is the outlander, the - outer barbarian, and not their own Government that shuts them off. - </p> - <p> - But the holding of that wall by an armed force, that dominates both the - Chinese and the Tartar Cities, seems to me the very greatest thing in the - way of insults. Some day when the Chinese are a united nation, powerful as - they ought to be, they will awake to that insult, and the first thing they - will do will be to clear their wall from foreign interference. Meanwhile, - as I sit in a courtyard of a temple of the Western Hills, drinking in the - sparkling air of September, looking at the lovely blue sky peeping through - the dark green branches of the temple pines, as I sit and write this book, - I think gratefully of that loose-limbed, lissom, athletic, young American - soldier who, with rifle across his shoulder, is doing sentry-go upon the - wall. The German is there too, the stiff, well-drilled, military German, - but my heart goes out to the man who is nearer akin, and whose speech is - not unlike that of the people of my own land. It seems to me I am <span - class="pagenum">063</span><a name="link063" id="link063"></a>safe here, - alone among the Chinese, because of those soldiers. There are those who - will say I am wrong, that the Chinese are always courteous, and that they - like me because of the money I put into their pockets. And that is true - enough too. I have found the very rickshaw coolie a finished, courteous - gentleman in his manner towards me, and I have received many little acts - of kindness which could but come from a kindly heart, with no thought of - profit behind it; but still, deep down at the bottom of my heart, I know - that the Chinese, more than any man on earth perhaps, respects power, and - the Legation Quarter, and the holding of that wall, are an outward - manifestation of power that reaches far and keeps me safe here in my - mountain temple. The gods here by my side are dead, who fears or respects - the gods, Spanish chestnuts are stored beside their altars, but the - foreign soldiers on the wall are a fact there is no getting over. It - impresses those in authority, and the fiat goes forth, permeating through - all classes, “The foreigner is not to be touched under any - circumstances whatever.” - </p> - <p> - On this wall come the foreign community to exercise and promenade in the - cool of the evening in summer, or to enjoy the sunshine at midday in - winter, and here all the soldiers and sailors of the various nationalities - foregather. There is no other place in all Peking where one can walk with - comfort, for the Chinese as a nation, have no idea of the joy of exercise. - They have put it out of the power of their women to move save with - difficulty, and that a man should take any pleasure in violent exercise - seems to them absurd. To walk when he <span class="pagenum">064</span><a - name="link064" id="link064"></a>can ride in a rickshaw, or mount a donkey, - would argue something wrong in his mental outlook, so it happens that, in - all the great city, there are only the streets of the Legation Quarter and - the wall where walking exercise can be indulged in. The streets of the - Quarter are the streets of an uninteresting, commonplace town, but the - wall overlooking the two cities is quite another matter. Here the part of - the foreign community that does not ride takes its exercise, and - foregathers with its kind. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0110.jpg" alt="0110 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0110.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0111.jpg" alt="0111 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0111.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The foreign quarter is not always thinking of the dangers it is guarding - against. That it thinks also a great deal of its amusement, goes without - saying. I have observed that this is a special characteristic of the - Briton abroad. At home the middle-class man—or woman—is chary - of pleasure, taking it as if it were something he had hardly a right to; - but abroad he seizes eagerly the smallest opportunity for amusing himself, - demanding amusement as something that hardly compensates him for his exile - from his native land. So it has come that I, a looker-on, with less strong - bonds than those from the Old Country binding me to my father's - land, fancy that these exiles have in the end a far better time than the - men of the same class who stay at home. I am apt to have no pity for them - whatever. - </p> - <p> - One thing is certain, people keep horses here in Peking who could not - dream of such a luxury in England. True, they are only ponies fourteen - hands high, but a great deal of fun can be got out of pony racing. And - racing-stables are a feature of the Quarter. Not that they are in the - Quarter. <span class="pagenum">065</span><a name="link065" id="link065"></a>On - the plain, about five miles to the west of the city, lies the little - race-course, and dotted about within easy distance of this excellent - training-ground are the various training-stables for the ponies. The China - pony comes from Mongolia, where close watch and ward is kept over him, and - neither mares nor stallions are exported. - </p> - <p> - “If I could only get hold of a mare,” sighs the young racing - man, but he sighs in vain. Meanwhile he can indulge in the sport of kings - cheaply. - </p> - <p> - “I've joined another fellow in a racing-stable,” said a - man to me, soon after my arrival in Peking, and I looked upon him with - something of the awe and respect one gives to great wealth. I had not - thought he was so well off. He saw my mistake and laughed. - </p> - <p> - “The preliminary expenses are only thirty pounds,” he went on, - “and I don't intend they shall be very heavy. We can have good - sport at a moderate cost.” Of course moderate cost is an elastic - term, depending on the purse of the speaker, but in this case I think it - meant that men of very ordinary means, poor exiles who would live in a - six-roomed flat with a couple of maidservants in England, might have a - good time without straining those means unduly. - </p> - <p> - A race-meeting in Peking has peculiarities all its own. Of course it is - only the men from the West who would think of a race-meeting. The Chinese, - except at the theatre, do not amuse themselves in crowds. - </p> - <p> - The Spring Meeting took place early in May, and the description of it - should come a little later in my book, but it seems to fall naturally into - <span class="pagenum">066</span><a name="link066" id="link066"></a>the - story of the doings of the Legation Quarter. Arrangements were made with - the French railway running to Hankow to stop close to the course, and put - the race-going crowd down there. There was no other means of getting - there, except by riding; for driving in a country where every inch of - ground, save a narrow and rough track, is given over to the needs of - agriculture, is out of the question. That spring race-meeting the day was - ideal. There was the blue sky overhead, the brilliant sunshine, a gentle - breeze to temper it, the young kaoliang was springing, lush and green, in - the fields, and the ash-trees that shelter the race-course were one - delicate tender green. A delicious day. Could the heart of man desire - more? Apparently the foreign residents of Peking did not desire more, for - they turned out, men, women, and children. And then I saw what a handful - of people are these foreigners who live in the capital of China and - endeavour to direct her destinies, for save and except the missionary - element, most of the other foreigners were there, from his Britannic - Majesty's representative to the last little boy who had joined a - hong as junior clerk at a hundred dollars a month, and felt that the cares - of Empire were on his shoulders. They were mostly British, of course, the - foreign trade of China—long may it be so—is mostly in British - hands; and there were representatives of every other great nation, the - Ministers of France, Germany, Russia, of Italy, Austria, Spain, Belgium, - Holland, and Japan, everyone but America, for America was busy recognising - the Chinese Republic, and the other nations were smiling, and wondering - why the nation that prides <span class="pagenum">067</span><a - name="link067" id="link067"></a>itself on being the champion of freedom - for the people, was being the first to recognise what is, virtually, a - despotic rule. - </p> - <p> - The little course, a mile round, is marked out with leafy ash-trees, the - grand-stand was charming with lilac bloom purple and white, and banksia - roses, fragrant as tender memories. It was shaded by p'engs—mats—raised - high on scaffolding, so that pleasant shade might not interfere with the - cool breeze, and here were the women of the community, the women of - well-to-do people, gay in dainty toilets from London and Paris; the men - were in light summer suits, helmets and straw hats, for summer was almost - upon us. Tiffin, the luncheon of the East, was set in the rooms behind, - decorated with miniature flags of all nations, made in Japan, and wreathed - with artificial flowers, though there was a wealth of natural blossom - around the stand outside. There is a steward's room and the - weighing-room in one tiny building with a curved roof of artistic Chinese - design, and all the ponies are walked about and saddled and mounted where - every interested spectator can see them. And every spectator on that sunny - May day was interested, for the horses, the sturdy Chinese ponies, were, - and always are, owned and ridden by the men of the company, men whom - everybody knows intimately. For these Peking race-meetings are only - amateur, and though, occasionally, a special pony may change hands at two - thousand dollars—two hundred pounds—the majority are bought - and sold under two hundred dollars—twenty pounds—and yet their - owners have much joy and pride in them. - </p> - <p> - Surely it is unique, a race-meeting where all the <span class="pagenum">068</span><a - name="link068" id="link068"></a>civilised nations of the earth meet and - fraternise in simple, friendly fashion, taking a common pleasure in small - things. - </p> - <p> - “They're off!” Mostly the exclamation was in English, - but a Russian-owned horse, ridden by a Cossack rider, won one race, and - was led proudly up to the weighing-room by a fair lady of his own people, - and was cordially applauded, for the winner was always applauded, no - matter what his nationality. - </p> - <p> - The horses, coming out to parade, were each led by their own mafoo, who - managed to look horsey in spite of a shaven head, long queue, and - pronounced Chinese features. Up and down they led the ponies, up and down, - and when at last the precious charges must be resigned, a score of them - squatted down just where they could get the best view of the race, and - doubtless each man put up a little prayer to the god he most affected, - that the pony that carried his money might come in first. - </p> - <p> - When we were not watching the saddling, or the parade, or the race, or the - weighing-in, we were listening to a Chinese band, Sir Robert Bredon's - band, with a Chinese conductor, playing selections from all the modern - Western music. It might have been—where in the world might it not - have been? Nowhere but in Peking in the heart of China surely, for there, - just beyond the limit of the course, were long strings of camels bound for - coal to the Western Hills, marching steadily, solemnly, tirelessly, as - they marched in the days of Marco Polo, and a thousand years before the - days of Marco Polo, and all round the course, crowding every point of - vantage were a large concourse of Chinese, people <span class="pagenum">069</span><a - name="link069" id="link069"></a>of the working and middle classes, clad - mostly in blue, the women with bound feet from the farms near by, the men - and the children very likely from further afield, but all unchanging as - the camels themselves, eagerly watching the foreigners' sports. They - are not allowed to come into the enclosure, every mafoo and attendant - wears a special badge, and even Chinese of the better class may come only - by special invitation of some member. These interested folk, who have no - friends among the foreigners may not even go into the enclosure, where the - “Tommies” and bluejackets, men from England and America, - France, Japan, and all the countries of the earth crowded in the gay - sunshine making high holiday. Nevertheless the Orientals surrounded the - course. They got upon the mounds of earth that are at the back and looked - from that vantage-point not only at the races but at the foreign devils at - their tiffin and afternoon tea. Their own refreshment was provided by - hawkers selling cakes and sweetmeats, just outside the forbidden ground, - and Peking carts and donkeys waited round to take them back to their - homes. There were even beggars there, beggars with long, unkempt hair, - wrapped in a single garment of sackcloth, ragged, unwashed, unkempt, the - typical beggars of China, for no one knows better than they when money is - being lightly handled, and as the bright sunny day, the gorgeous spring - day of Northern China drew slowly to a close doubtless even they, whom - every man's hand was against, gathered in a few stray cash. I hope - they did. Such a very little makes so much difference in China. - </p> - <p> - The sun sank slowly to the west in the translucent <span class="pagenum">070</span><a - name="link070" id="link070"></a>sky, the ponies in the saddling paddock - were walked slowly up and down in the long shadows of the ash-trees, and - the country was beautiful with the soft regret of the dying day as we - walked back through the fields of kaoliang to the railway station, we, the - handful of people who represented the power and majesty of the Western - world. The mighty walls of an older civilisation frowned down upon the - train—this thing of yesterday—the last rays of the setting sun - lighted up all the glory of the red and gold of the Chien Men watch-tower - and we were in the Legation Quarter once more, with armed sentries at the - gates, and the American soldier upon the wall sounding the bugle call for - the changing guard. - </p> - <p> - I come from a country where every little township considers a race-course - as necessary as a cemetery. I have been to many many race-meetings, but - this one in Peking, where the men of the land are so barred out that no - one of Chinese descent may belong to the Club or even ride a race, stands - out as unique. It has a place in my mind by itself. It was so expressive - of the attitude of the Powers who watch over China. Peking, the Peking of - the Legations had been amusing herself. The National Assembly was in an - uproar, the Premier was openly accused of murder, the Loan was in anything - but a satisfactory state, everyone feared that the North and the South - would be at each other's throats before the month was out, the air - was full of rumours of wars, but the English-speaking community love - racing, the other nations, from their Ministers downwards, had fallen into - line, and Peking, foreign Peking, did itself well. - </p> - <p> - And I wondered, I wondered much what the <span class="pagenum">071</span><a - name="link071" id="link071"></a>Chinese thought of it all. It is very, - very difficult, so men tell me who have lived in China long, and speak the - language well, to get at the bottom of the Chinese mind, to know what they - really do think of us. The Chinese gentleman is so courteous that as far - as possible he always expresses the opinion he thinks you would like to - hear, and the Chinese woman, even if she be of the better classes, with - very few exceptions is unlearned and ignorant as a child, indeed she is - worse than a child of the Western nations, for the child is at least - allowed to ask questions and learn, while all her charm is supposed to - depend upon her subservience and her ignorance. As I stood on the - race-course that day, and many a time as I sat in the lounge of the Wagons - Lits Hotel—the European hotel of the Legation Quarter—where - all tourists visiting Peking come, where the nations of the world - foregather, and East meets West as never before perhaps in the world's - history have they met, I have wondered very much indeed what the East, the - portly middle-aged Chinaman with flowing silken robes and long queue - thinks of us and our manners and customs. He was accompanied perhaps by a - friend, or perhaps by a lady in high collar and trousers with a little - son, the crown of the child's head shaven, and the remaining hair - done in a halo of little plaits tied up with string, yellow, red, or blue, - and he watched gravely either the dancing, or the conversation, or the - conjurer, or whatever other amusement the “Wagons Lits” had - for the time being set up. Again and again have I watched him, but I could - never even make a guess at what he thought. Probably it was anything but - complimentary. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0119.jpg" alt="0119 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0119.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">072</span><a name="link072" id="link072"></a>"The - men dressed for dinner,” said a Chinese once, describing an evening - he had spent among foreigners; “then the order was given and the - women stripped,” that is took off their wraps when the music began, - only everything is “ordered” in China, “and each man - seized a woman in his arms. He pushed her forward, he pulled her back,” - graphic illustrations were given, “he whirled round and round and - she had no will of her own. And it was all done to horrible music.” - </p> - <p> - Everything is in the point of view, and that is how, at least one Chinese - gentleman saw a waltz. I used to wonder what he said of the musical comedy - that from time to time is presented by a wandering company in the - dining-room of the Wagons Lits Hotel. They displayed upon a tiny crowded - stage, for the edification of Chinese and foreigners alike, for the room - was crowded with Chinese both of the old and of the new order, such a - picture of morals as Europeans take as a matter of course. We know well - enough that such scenes as are depicted in “The Girl in the Taxi” - are merely the figments of an exuberant imagination, and are not the daily - habits of any class either in London or Paris. But what do the Chinese - think? All things are necessary and good, I suppose, but some are - difficult to explain. Thirteen years ago the Boxer tragedy, now the - musical comedy full of indecencies scarcely veiled. - </p> - <p> - Truth to tell, it was a very interesting thing for a new-comer like me to - sit in that hotel watching the people, and listening to the various - opinions so freely given by all and sundry. From all parts of the world - people come there, tourists, soldiers, <span class="pagenum">073</span><a - name="link073" id="link073"></a>sailors, business men, philanthropists'—men - who were working for the good of China, and men who were ready to exploit - her. And then the opinions as to the safety of the Europeans in China that - were expressed! Here, in the security of the Legation Quarter, I collected - those opinions as I wanted to go into the interior, and I was by no means - anxious to risk my life. - </p> - <p> - To arrive at any decision was very difficult. In the Treaty Ports there - may be some unanimity, but once outside it seemed that every man had his - own particular opinion of China and the Chinese, and all these opinions - differed widely. - </p> - <p> - “Safe,” said a man who had fought through the Boxer trouble; - “safer far than London. They had to pay then, and they won't - forget, you can take your oath of that.” - </p> - <p> - “Like living on a volcano,” said another. “No, I shall - never forget the Boxer trouble. That's the kind of thing that is - graved on your mind with hot irons. Do it again? Of course they'll - do it again. A docile people, I grant you, but they're very fiends - when they're aroused. They're emotional, you know, the French - of the Far East, and when they let themselves go———” - He paused, and I realised that he had seen them let themselves go, and no - words could describe the horror of it. “Would I let my wife and - children live in one of the hu t'ungs of Peking? Would I? How would - they get away when the trouble commenced?” - </p> - <p> - The chances are they couldn't get away. The hu t'ungs of - Peking are narrow alley-ways running out from the main thoroughfares, and - the houses there are built, Chinese fashion, round courtyards <span - class="pagenum">074</span><a name="link074" id="link074"></a>and behind - blank walls, hidden away in a nest of other buildings, and the difficulty - of getting out and back to the armed Legation Quarter, when a mob were out - bent on killing, would be enormous. - </p> - <p> - “A Debt Commission spells another anti-foreign outbreak, and we're - within an ace of a Debt Commission,” said another man thoughtfully; - “and if there is a row and things look like going against us, I keep - one cartridge in my revolver for myself.” It does not seem much when - I write it down, such things have I heard carelessly said many a time - before, but when I, a foreigner and a solitary woman, was contemplating a - trip up-country, they had a somewhat sinister sound. - </p> - <p> - On the other hand again and again have I heard men scout all idea of - danger, men who have been up and down the country for years. And yet but - yesterday, the day before I write these words, a man looked at his pretty - young wife, she was sweetly pretty, and vowed vehemently, “I would - not leave my wife and child alone for a night in our house just outside - the Quarter for anything on earth. If anything did happen—and it - might———” and he dropped his voice. There are some - things that will not bear thinking about, and he had seen the looting of - Nanking and the unfortunates who had died when they took the Woosung - Forts. “We went to look after the wounded,” said he, “and - there weren't any wounded. The savage Northern soldiery had seen to - that.” And those whom they mutilated were their own people! What - would they do to a foreigner in the event of an anti-foreign outbreak? - </p> - <p> - “Are you afraid?” I asked a man who certainly lived far enough - away in the city. <span class="pagenum">075</span><a name="link075" - id="link075"></a>He looked at me curiously, as if he were going to say - there was nothing to be afraid of, and then he changed his mind. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I am when I think of it,” said he; “but then - you see, I don't think of it.” - </p> - <p> - And that is the average attitude, the necessary attitude, because no man - can perpetually brood over the dangers that might assail him. Certain - precautions he takes to safeguard himself, here are the nations armed to - the teeth in the heart of a friendly country, and for the rest <i>Quien - sabe?</i> - </p> - <p> - And I talked with all men, and while I was making preparations to go into - the interior, had the good-fortune to see a quaint and curious pageant - that took me back to Biblical days and made me remember how Vashti the - Queen was cast down, and the beautiful Esther found favour in the sight of - her lord, and how another tragic Hebrew Queen, going down to posterity - with a name unjustly smirched and soiled, had once painted her face and - tired her head, and looking out of the window had defied to the death her - unfaithful servant. “Had Zimri peace who slew his master?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—THE FUNERAL OF AN EMPRESS - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">076</span><a name="link076" id="link076"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>A good republican—The restricted Empire of the Manchus—Condign - punishment—Babylon—An Adventurous Chinaman—The entrance - to the Forbidden City—The courtyards of Babylon—A discordant - and jarring note—Choirs of priests—A living Buddha—“The - Swanee River”—The last note in bathos—Palace eunuchs—Out - of hand—Afternoon tea—The funeral procession—The - imperial bier—Quaint and strange and Eastern.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Dowager-Empress - of China, the unloved wife and widow of the late Emperor, died, so they - gave out to the world, on the 22nd February, 1913, the day I arrived in - China. As Empress, just one of the women of the Court chosen to please the - ruler and to bear him children, his consort in China never seems to have - had any particular standing. This Empress was overshadowed by her aunt, - the great Dowager-Empress whom all the world knew, but once the Emperor - was dead, as one of the guardians of the baby Emperor she came into a - certain amount of power, for the position of Dowager-Empress seems to be - an official one as, since her death, another woman who has never been wife - to an Emperor has been appointed to the post. - </p> - <p> - The power has gone from the Manchus, but China is wedded to her past, - nothing passes, so even the Chinese Republic, the men who barely a year - before <span class="pagenum">077</span><a name="link077" id="link077"></a>had - ousted the Empress from her high estate, united in doing her honour at her - obsequies. - </p> - <p> - “She was the best republican of us all,” said a Chinese - gentleman, learned in the lore and civilisation of the West, “for - she freely gave up her position that China might be free.” - </p> - <p> - It was a pretty way of putting it, but to me it seems doubtful whether - anyone in over-civilised China trammelled with many conventions, is free, - and it is hardly likely that a woman bred to think she had attained the - most important position in the world that can fall to a woman's lot, - would give it up freely for the good of a people she knew absolutely - nothing about. All the Manchus rule over now are the courtyards and - palaces of the Forbidden City, and there they are supreme. It is whispered - that only a week before the day of which I write, a man was there beaten - to death for having stolen something belonging to the dead Empress. So - much for the love of the Manchus for freedom and enlightenment. It carries - one back to the Middle Ages—further, to Babylon. - </p> - <p> - “They slew there mercilessly, and they also feasted—so did the - representatives of the dead Empress hold high festival in her honour. - </p> - <p> - “The King made a feast unto all the people that were present in - Shushan the palace, both unto great and small, seven days, in the Court in - the garden of the King's palace. - </p> - <p> - “Where were white, green, and blue hangings fastened with cords of - fine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble, the beds were - of gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and white, and black - marble. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">078</span><a name="link078" id="link078"></a>"And - they gave them drink in vessels of gold... and royal wine in abundance, - according to the state of the King.” - </p> - <p> - So Ahasuerus the King entertained his people of Babylon, when Vashti the - Queen fell, and of Babylon only could I think when, first I entered the - Forbidden City. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0129.jpg" alt="0129 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0129.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Standing on the walls of Peking, a city of the plain, you look down upon - twelve square miles of grey-tiled roofs, the roofs of one-storied houses - hidden in the summertime by a forest of trees, but in the heart of the - city are high buildings that stand out not only by reason of their height - but because the roofs of golden-brown tiles, imperial yellow, gleam and - glow in the sunlight. This is the Forbidden City where has dwelt for - hundreds of years the Emperor of China, often he must have been the only - man in it, and always it was closed to all save the immediate following of - the Son of Heaven. - </p> - <p> - I never realised till I came to Peking that this forbidden ground was just - as much an object of curiosity to the Chinese as it would have been to any - European nation. - </p> - <p> - “I went in once,” said a Chinese gentleman to me, “when - I was a young man.” He was only forty then. - </p> - <p> - “Were you invited?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no. I went secretly. I wanted to see what it was like.” - </p> - <p> - “But how?” - </p> - <p> - “I got the dress of a eunuch and I slipped in early one morning, and - then, when I got in, I hardly dared move or breathe for fear someone - should find me out. Then when no one took any notice of me I <span - class="pagenum">079</span><a name="link079" id="link079"></a>walked about - and saw everything I could, but the last hour was the worst, I was - terrified at the thought that I might not be able to get out.” - </p> - <p> - “And if you had been caught?” - </p> - <p> - He looked grave even then at the remembrance of that bygone desperate - adventure. - </p> - <p> - “Oh death, certainly.” - </p> - <p> - “Death?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, a long and lingering death,” and the thought of what he - had escaped twenty years ago, was on his face. - </p> - <p> - I looked at him with interest, a tall stout Chinaman with his hair cut - short in the modern fashion, a long grey robe of silk reaching to his - feet, and a little short black sleeveless jacket over it. He did not look, - pleasant as he was, as if he would ever have dared anything, but then I - have never thought of any Chinaman as likely to risk his life without hope - of gain, and to risk it for mere curiosity as a man of my own people might - have done! It was throwing a new light on the Chinese. I rather admired - him and then I found he was Eastern after all. - </p> - <p> - We talked of Yuan Shih K'ai, and he, being of the opposition party, - expressed his opinion freely, and, considering all things, very boldly - about him. - </p> - <p> - “He has eighteen wives,” said he shaking his head as if this - was the unpardonable sin in a man who desired to imitate the manners and - customs of the West. - </p> - <p> - I repeated this to a friend, and he burst out laughing. “Why the old - sinner,” said he, “what's he throwing stones for? He's - got seventeen and a half himself!” <span class="pagenum">080</span><a - name="link080_rdquo_________id_" id="link080_rdquo_________id_"></a>So it - seems it will be some time before forbidden cities on a small scale will - be out of fashion in China. - </p> - <p> - And still, in these days of the Republic, the Forbidden City of the - Manchus dominates Peking. - </p> - <p> - It was thrown open for three days to all who could produce a black paper - chrysanthemum with five leaves, red, yellow, blue, black, and white, - fastened to a tab of white paper with a mourning edge and an inscription - in Chinese characters. The foreigners had theirs from their Legations, and - the Chinese from their guilds. And those Chinese—there are many of - them—who are so unlucky as to belong to no guild, Chinese of the - humbler sort, were shut out, and for them there was erected on the great - marble bridge in front of the southern entrance, a pavilion of gorgeous - orange silk enclosing an altar with offerings that stood before a picture - of the dead Empress, so that all might pay their respects. - </p> - <p> - I pinned my badge to the front of my fur coat, for it was keen and cold in - spite of the brilliant sunshine, and went off to the wrong entrance, the - eastern gate, where only princes and notables were admitted. I thought it - strange there should be no sign of a foreigner, but foreigners in Peking - can be but as one in a hundred or less, so undismayed, I walked straight - up to the gate, and immediately a row of palace servants clad in their - white robes of mourning, clustered before the sacred place. They talked - and explained vehemently, and with perfect courtesy, but they were very - agitated, and though I could not understand one word they said, one thing - was certain, admitted I could not be there. So I turned to the southern - gate and there it seemed all Peking was streaming. <span class="pagenum">081</span><a - name="link081" id="link081"></a>It was like China that we might not go in - the direct way. - </p> - <p> - There is a great paved way through the Imperial City alongside a canal - that runs between marble-lined banks, but on the principal bridge that - crosses it was erected the orange silk pavilion for the poorer classes, - and we, the wearers of the black chrysanthemum, hundreds and thousands and - ten thousands of us, had to turn off to the right and go along by the - tall, pinkish red walls till we came to the great archways in the walls, - five great archways filled in with doors studded with great brazen knobs. - Usually they were fast shut, but they were open to-day, guarded by - soldiers in full-marching order, soldiers of the New Republic in modern - khaki looking out of the picture, and there streamed into the tunnellike - entrance as curious a crowd as ever I set eyes upon. All must walk, old - and young, great and lowly, representatives of the mighty nations of the - world and tottering Chinese ladies swaying like “lilies in the wind” - upon their maimed feet, only one man, a Mongol Prince, an Incarnation of a - Buddha, a living Buddha, was borne in in a sedan chair. But every other - mortal had to walk. The tunnels must always be gloomy, and, even on that - cold day, they struck chill after the brilliant sunlight, and they are - long, for the walls, just here, are about ninety feet through, so might - the entrances have been in the palace of Ahasuerus the King. The courtyard - we first entered had a causeway running right across it of great hewn - stones, hewn and laid by slave labour, when all men bowed before the Son - of Heaven, hundreds of years ago. They are worn in many places now, worn - by the passing of many <span class="pagenum">082</span><a - name="link082_rdquo_________id_" id="link082_rdquo_________id_"></a>feet, - and still more worn are the grey Chinese bricks that pave the courtyard on - either side. It is a great courtyard of splendid proportions. In front of - us frowned more high walls of pinkish red, topped by the buildings that - can be seen all over Peking, temples or halls of audience with - golden-brown tiled roofs that gleamed in the sunlight, and on either side - were low buildings with fronts of lattice-work rather fallen into - disrepair. They might have been used as guard-houses or, more probably, - were the quarters of the six thousand or so of eunuchs that the dignity of - the ruler required to attend upon him. There were a few trees, leafless - then in March, but there was nothing to spoil the dignity and repose of - every line. A great mind surely conceived this entrance, and great must - have been the minds that kept it so severely simple. If it be the heart of - a nation then do I understand. The people who streamed along the causeway, - who roamed over the worn brick pavement, had, as a rule, delicate, finely - formed hands though they were but humble craftsmen. If the hands of the - poorest be so fine, is it any wonder that the picked men of such a people, - their very heart, conceived such a mighty pile? There were more, longer - and gloomier tunnels, admitting to a still greater courtyard, a courtyard - that must be at least a quarter of a mile across, with the same causeway - of worn stones that cry out the tale of the sufferings of the forgotten - slaves, who hewed them and dragged them into place, the same grey pavement - of bricks, the same tall smooth red walls, crowned over the gateway with - temples, rising one story after another till the tiled roof cuts the sky. - And through a third set of tunnels we came into a third courtyard, <span - class="pagenum">083</span><a name="link083_rdquo_________id_" - id="link083_rdquo_________id_"></a>the courtyard where the obsequies were - being held. The third courtyard was spacious as Trafalgar Square, and - round three sides was a wide raised platform of stone reached by broad and - easy ramps, and all across it ran a canal held in by marble banks, crossed - by graceful bridges, and every one of the uprights, made of white marble, - was crowned by a figure that I took for the representation of a flame; but - those, who know, tell me it is meant to represent a cloud, and is part of - the dragon symbolism. When marble is the medium by which so light a thing - as a cloud is represented it must be very finely done indeed, when one - outside the national thought, such as I, sees in that representation a - flame. Two colossal bronze monsters with grinning countenances and curly - manes, conventional lions, mounted on dragon-carved pedestals, stand - before the entrance to the fourth temple or hall of audience, and here was - what the crowd had come to see, the lighthearted, cheerful, merry crowd, - that were making high holiday, here was the altar to the dead. - </p> - <p> - Overhead were the tiled roofs, and of all the colours of the rainbow - surely none could have been chosen better than the golden brown of those - tiles to harmonise with the clear blue of the glorious sky above it, no - line to cut it could have been so appropriate as the gentle sweep of the - curve of a Chinese roof. There was a little grass growing on the roofs, - sere and withered, but a faint breeze just stirred its tops, and it toned - with the prevailing golden brown in one glorious beauty. Where else in the - world could one get such an effect? Only in Australia have I seen such a - sky, and there it was never wedded to such a glow of colour as that it - looks down <span class="pagenum">084</span><a name="link084" id="link084"></a>upon - in Peking. The men who built this palace in a bygone age, built broadly, - truly, for all time. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0137.jpg" alt="0137 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0137.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And then, it was surely as if some envious spirit had entered in and - marred all this loveliness—no, that would be impossible, but struck - a discordant and jarring note that should perhaps emphasise in our minds - the beauty that is eternal—for all the front of that temple, which - as far as I could see was pinkish red, with under the eaves that beautiful - dark blue, light blue, and green, that the Chinese know so well how to - mingle, was covered with the most garish, commonplace decorations, made - for the most part of paper, red, violent Reckitt's blue, yellow, and - white. From every point of vantage ran strings of flags, cheap common - little flags of all nations, bits of string were tied to the marble - clouds, and they fluttered from them, and the great wonderful bronze lions - contrived to look coy in frills that would not have disgraced a Yorkshire - ham. The altar on the northern platform was hidden behind a trellis-work - of gaily coloured paper, and there were offerings upon it of fruit and - cakes in great profusion, all set out before a portrait of the late - Empress. On either side were two choirs of priests, Buddhists and Taoists - in gorgeous robes of red and orange. What faith the dead Empress held I do - not know, but the average Chinese, while he is the prince of materialists, - believing nothing he cannot see and explain, has also a keen eye to the - main chance, and on his death-bed is apt to summon priests of all faiths - so as to let no chance of a comfortable future slip; but possibly it was - more from motives of policy than from any idea of aiding the dead woman - that these representatives of the two great faiths of China were <span - class="pagenum">085</span><a name="link085" id="link085"></a>summoned. On - the rights behind a trellis-work of bright paper, one choir sat in a - circle, beat gongs, struck their bells and intoned; and on the left, - behind a like trellis-work, the other choir knelt before low desks and - also solemnly intoned. Their Mongolian faces were very impassive, they - looked neither to the right nor the left, but kept time to the ceaseless - beat of their leader's stick upon a globe of wood split across the - middle like a gaping mouth emblematical of a fish and called mu yii—or - wooden fish. What were they repeating? Prayers for the dead? Eulogies on - her who had passed? Or comfort for the living? Not one of these things. - Probably they were intoning Scriptures in Tibetan, an unknown tongue to - them very likely, but come down to them through the ages and sanctified by - thousands of ceaseless repetitions. - </p> - <p> - And the people came, passed up the steps, bowed by the direction of the - usher—in European clothes—three times to the dead Empress's - portrait, and the altar, were thanked by General Chang, the Military - Commandant, and passed on by the brightly clad intoning priests down into - the crowd in the great courtyard again. It was weird to find myself taking - part in such a ceremony. Stranger still to watch the people who went up - and down those steps. In all the world surely never was such an - extraordinary funeral gathering. I am very sure that never shall I attend - such another. There was such a mingling of the ancient and the blatantly - modern. To the sound of weird, archaic, Eastern music the living Buddha, - clad all in yellow, in his yellow sedan chair, borne by four bearers in - dark blue with Tartar caps on their heads, made his reverence, and was - followed <span class="pagenum">086</span><a name="link086" id="link086"></a>by - a band of Chinese children from some American mission school, who, with - misguided zeal sang fervently at the top of their shrill childish voices - “Down by the Swanee River” and “Auld Lang Syne,” - and then soldiers in modern uniform of khaki or bright blue were followed - by police officers in black and gold. The wrong note was struck by the - “Swanee River,” the high officials dwelt upon it, for the - Chinese does not look to advantage in these garbs, he looks what he is - makeshift, a bad imitation, and the jarring was only relieved when the - Manchu princes came in white mourning sheepskins and black Tartar caps. - They may be dissolute and decadent, have all the vices that new China - accuses them of, but at least they looked polished and dignified - gentlemen, at their ease and in their place. It does not matter, possibly. - The President once said that to petition for a monarchy was an act of - fanaticism worthy of being punished by imprisonment, and so the old order - must in a measure pass; even in China, the unchanging, there must come, it - is a law of nature, some little change, and when I looked at the bows and - arrows of the Manchu guard leaning against the wall I realised that it - would be impossible to keep things as they were, however picturesque. - Still khaki uniforms, if utilitarian, are ugly, and American folk-songs, - under such conditions, struck the last note in bathos, or pathos. It - depends on the point of view. - </p> - <p> - On the white paper tabs, attached to our black chrysanthemums, was written - something about the New Republic, but it might have been the spirit of the - Empress at home, so cheerful and bent on enjoyment was the crowd which - thronged the <span class="pagenum">087</span><a name="link087" id="link087"></a>courtyard. - The bands played, sometimes Eastern music, strange and haunting, sometimes - airs from the European operas, there were various tents erected with seats - and tables, and refreshments were served, oranges, and ginger, and tea, - and cakes of all kinds, both in the tents and at little altar-like stands - dotted about the courtyard even at the very foot of the pedestals of the - great conventional lions. And the people walked round looking at - everything, peeping through every crevice in the hopes of seeing some part - of the palace that was not open to them, chatting, laughing, greeting each - other as they would have done at a garden-party in Europe. There were all - sorts of people, dressed in all sorts of fashions. New China looked at - best common-plage and ordinary in European clothes; old China was - dignified in a queue, silken jacket and brocaded petticoat, generally of a - lighter colour; Manchu ladies wore high head-dresses and brilliant silken - coats, blue or pink, lavender or grey, and Chinese ladies tottered along - on tiny, bound feet that reminded me of the hoofs of a deer, and the most - fashionable, unmarried girls wore short coats with high collars covering - their chins, and tight-fitting trousers, often of gaily coloured silk, - while the older women added skirts, and the poorer classes just wore a - long coat of cotton, generally blue, with trousers tightly girt in at the - ankles, and their maimed feet in tiny little embroidered shoes. European - dress the Chinese woman very seldom affects yet, and their jet black hair, - plastered together with some sort of substance that makes it smooth and - shiny, is never covered, but flowers and jewelled pins are stuck in it. - Occasionally—I <span class="pagenum">088</span><a - name="link088_rdquo_________id_" id="link088_rdquo_________id_"></a>did on - this day—you will see a woman with a black embroidered band round - the front of her head, but this, I think, denotes that she is of the Roman - Catholic faith, for the Roman Catholics have been in China far longer than - any other Christian sect, and they invented this head-dress for the - Chinese woman who for ages has been accustomed to wear none, because of - the Pauline injunction, that it was a shame for a woman to appear in a - church with her head uncovered. Old China did not approve of a woman going - about much at all, and here at this funeral I heard many old China hands - remarking how strange it was to see so many women mingling with the - throng. It marked the change; but such a very short time back, such a - thing would have been impossible. - </p> - <p> - There were numbers of palace eunuchs too—keepers of the women who, - apparently, may now show their faces to all men, and they were clad all in - the mourning white, with here and there one, for some reason or other I - cannot fathom, in black. The demand for eunuchs was great when the Emperor - dwelt, the one man, in the Forbidden City surrounded by his women, and - they say that very often the number employed rose to ten thousand. - Constantly, as some in the ranks grew old, fell sick, or died, they had to - be replaced, and, so conservative is China, the recruits were generally - drawn from certain villages whose business it was to supply the palace - eunuchs. Often, of course, the operation was performed in their infancy, - but often, very often, a man was allowed to grow up, marry, and have - children, before he was made ready for the palace. - </p> - <p> - “Impossible,” I said, “he would not consent <span - class="pagenum">089</span><a name="link089" id="link089"></a>then. Never.” - And my informant laughed pitifully. “Ah,” said she, “you - don't know the struggle in China. Anything for a livelihood.” - </p> - <p> - Some of the eunuchs wanted their photographs taken, and I was willing - enough if they would only give me room. I wanted one in white, but they - desired one in black, either because he was the most important or the - least important, I know not which, and they sat him on a stone that had - been a seat perhaps when Kublai Khan built the palace; and the keeper of - the women, the representative of the old cruel past, that pressed men and - women alike into the service of the great, looked in my camera sheepish as - a schoolboy kissed in public by his maiden aunt. - </p> - <p> - There were coolies, too, in the ordinary blue cotton busy about the work - that the entertaining of such a multitude necessarily entails, and - everyone looked cheerful and happy, as, after all, why should they not, - for death is the common lot, and must come to all of us, and they had seen - and heard of the dead Empress about as much as the dweller in Chicago had. - They were merely taking what she, or her representatives, gave with frank - goodwill, and enjoying themselves accordingly. - </p> - <p> - Against the walls they kept putting up long scrolls covered with Chinese - characters, sentences in praise of the virtues of the Empress, and sent, - as we would send funeral wreaths, to honour the dead, and presently a wind - arose and tore at them and they fluttered out from the walls like long - streamers, and as the wind grew wilder, some were tom down altogether. But - that was on the afternoon of the second day, when worse things happened. - <span class="pagenum">090</span><a name="link090" id="link090"></a>I went - down to the Forbidden City after tiffin, and behold, outside the great - gates, looking up longingly and murmuring a little, was a great crowd that - grew momentarily greater. The doors, studded with brazen nails, were fast - closed, and little parties of soldiers with their knapsacks upon their - backs were evidently telling the crowd to keep back, and very probably, - since it was China, the reason why they should keep back. The reason was, - of course, lost upon me, I only knew that, before I realised what was - happening, I was in the centre of a crushing crowd that was gradually - growing more unmanageable. A Chinese crowd is wonderfully good-natured, - far better-tempered than a European crowd of a like size would be, but - when a crowd grows great, it is hardly responsible for its actions. - Besides, a Chinese crowd has certain little unpleasant habits. The men - picked up the little children, for the tiniest tots came to this great - festival, and held them on their shoulders, but they coughed, and hawked, - and spit, and wiped their noses in the primitive way Adam probably did - before he thought of using a fig-leaf as a pocket handkerchief, and at - last I felt that the only thing to be done was to edge my way to the - fringe of the press, because, even if the doors were opened, it would have - seemed like taking my life in my hands to go into one of those tunnels - with their uneven pavements in such a crush. Once down it would be - hopeless to think of getting up again. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">091</span><a name="link091" id="link091"></a>After a - time, however, they did open the doors, and the people surged in. When all - was clear I followed, and once inside heard how the people in the great - courtyard, in spite of police and soldiers, had swarmed up and threatened - by their rush, the good-natured, purposeless rush of a crowd, to carry - away offerings, altar, choirs and decorations, and, very naturally, those - in authority had closed the doors against all new-comers until the people - had been got well in hand again. It had taken some time. Before the altar - was a regular scrimmage, and after the crowd had passed it left behind it, - shoes, and caps, and portions of its clothing which were thrown back into - the courtyard to be gathered up by those who could recognise their own - property. By the time I arrived things were settling down. We had to wait - in the second courtyard, and the women, Chinese ladies with their little - aching feet, and Manchus in their high head-dresses sat themselves down on - the edge of the causeway, because standing on pavement is wearisome, and - there waited patiently till the doors were opened, and inside everything - was soon going again as gaily as at an ordinary garden-party in Somerset. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0145.jpg" alt="0145 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0145.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Do you like Chinese tea?” asked a Chinese lady of me in slow - and stilted English. I said I did. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said she, taking my hand in her cold little one, and - hand in hand we walked, or rather I walked and she tottered, across to one - of the great pavilions that had been erected, and there she sat me down - and a cup of the excellent tea was brought me, and every one of the - Chinese ladies present, out of the kindly hospitality of her heart towards - the lonely foreigner, gave me, with her own fair and shapely little hands, - a cake from the dish that was set before us by a white-clad servant. - Frankly, I wished they wouldn't be so hospitable. I wanted to say I - was quite capable of choosing my own cake, <span class="pagenum">092</span><a - name="link092_rdquo_________id_" id="link092_rdquo_________id_"></a>and - that I had a rooted objection to other people pawing the food I intended - to eat, but it seemed it might be rude, and I did not wish to nip kindly - feelings in the bud. And then, as the evening shadows drew long, I went - back to my hotel, sorry to leave the Forbidden City, glad to have had this - one little glimpse of the strange and wonderful that is bound to pass - away. - </p> - <p> - The Empress died in February, in March they held this, can we call it - lying-in-state, but it was not till the 3rd of April that her funeral - cortège moved from the Forbidden City, and the streets of Peking were - thronged with those who came to pay her respect. Did they mourn? Well, I - don't know. Hardly, I think, was it mourning in the technical sense. - The man in the street in England is far enough away from the king on the - throne, but in China it seems as if he might inhabit a different sphere. - </p> - <p> - The sky was a cloudless blue, and the bright golden sunshine poured down - hot as a July day in England, or a March day in Australia, there was not a - wisp of cloud in the sky; in all the five weeks that I had been in China - there had never been the faintest indication that such a thing was ever - expected, ever known, but at first the brilliancy had been cold, now it - was warm, the winter was past, and from the great Tartar wall, looking - over the Tartar City—the city that the Mings conquered and the - Manchus made their own—the forest of trees that hid the furthest - houses was all tinged with the faintest, daintiest green; and soon to the - glory of blue and gold, the blue of the sky and the gold of the sunshine, - would be added the vivid green that <span class="pagenum">093</span><a - name="link093" id="link093"></a>tells of the new-born life. And one woman - who had held high place here, one sad woman, who had missed most that was - good in fife, if rumours be true, was to be carried to her long home that - day. - </p> - <p> - The funeral procession started from the Eastern Gate of the Forbidden - City, came slowly down the broad street known now as Morrison Street, - turned into the way that passes the Legations and runs along by the glacis - whereon the conquering Western nations have declared that, for their - safety, no Chinese shall build a house, the Europeans call it the Viale d'ltalia, - because it passes by the Italian Legation, and the Chinese by the more - euphonious name of Chang an Cheeh—the street of Eternal Repose—a - curious commentary on the fighting that went on there in 1900, into the - Chien Men Street, that is the street of the main gate through which it - must go to the railway station. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to me strange this ruler of an ancient people, buried with weird - and barbaric rites, was to be taken to her last resting-place by the - modern railway, that only a very few years ago her people, at the height - of their anti-foreign feeling, had wished to oust from the country—root - and branch. But since the funeral procession was going to the railway - station it must pass through the Chien Men, and the curtain wall that ran - round the great gate offered an excellent point of vantage from which I, - with the rest of the European population, might see all there was to be - seen. And for this great occasion, the gate in the south of the curtain - wall, the gate that is always shut because only the highest in the land - may pass through, was open, <span class="pagenum">094</span><a - name="link094" id="link094"></a>for the highest in the land, the last of - the Manchu rulers, was dead. - </p> - <p> - I looked down into the walled-in space between the four gateway arches, as - into an arena, and the whole pageant passed below me. First of all - marching with deliberate slowness, that contrives to be dignified if they - are only carrying coals, came about twenty camels draped in imperial - yellow with tails of sable, also an imperial badge hanging from their - necks. The Manchus were a hunting people, and though they have been - dwellers in towns for the last two hundred and fifty years the fact was - not forgotten now that their last ruler had died. She was going on a - journey, a long, long journey; she might want to rest by the way, - therefore her camels bore tent-poles and tents of the imperial colour. - They held their heads high and went noiselessly along, pad, pad, pad, as - their like have gone to and fro from Peking for thousands of years. - Mongol, or Manchu, or son of Han, it is all the same to the camel. He - ministers to man's needs because he must, but he himself is - unchanging as the ages, fixed in his way as the sky above, whether he - bears grain from the north, or coal from the Western Hills, or tents and - drapery for an imperial funeral. Then there were about fifty white ponies, - without saddle or trapping of any kind, each led by a mafoo clad in blue - like an ordinary coolie. The Peking carts that followed with wheels and - tilts of yellow were of a past age, but, after all, does not the King of - Great Britain and Ireland on State occasions ride in a most old-world - coach. And then I noticed things came in threes. <span class="pagenum">095</span><a - name="link095" id="link095"></a>Three carts, three yellow palankeens full - of artificial flowers, three sedan chairs also yellow covered, and all - around these groups were attendants clad in shimmering rainbow muslin and - thick felt hats, from the pointed crown of which projected long yellow - feathers. Slowly, slowly, the procession moved on, broken now and again by - bands of soldiers in full marching order. There was a troop of cavalry of - the Imperial Guard they told me, but how could it be imperial when their - five-coloured lance pennons fluttering gaily in the air, clearly denoted - the New Republic? There was a detachment of mounted police in black and - yellow—the most modern of uniforms—there were more attendants - in gaily coloured robes carrying wooden halberds, embroidered fans, - banners, and umbrellas, and the yellow palankeens with the artificial - flowers were escorted by Buddhist lamas in yellow robes crossed with - crimson sashes, each with a stick of smouldering incense in his hand. In - those palankeens were the dead woman's seals, her power, the power - that she must now give up. I could see the smoke, and the scent of the - incense rose to our nostrils as we stood on the wall forty feet above. - Between the various groups, between the yellow lamas who dated from the - days of the Buddha long before the Christ, between the khaki-clad troops - and the yellow and black police, things of yesterday, came palace - attendants tossing into the air white paper discs. The dead Empress would - want money for her journey, and here it was, distributed with a lavish - hand. It was only white paper, blank and soiled by the dust of the road, - when I picked it up a little later on, but for her it would serve all - purposes. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0151.jpg" alt="0151 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0151.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The approach of the bier itself was heralded by the striking together of - two slabs of wood by a <span class="pagenum">096</span><a - name="link096_rdquo_________id_" id="link096_rdquo_________id_"></a>couple - of attendants, and before it came, clad all in the white of mourning, the - palace eunuchs who had guarded her privacy when in life; a few Court - attendants in black, and then between lines of khaki-uniformed modern - infantry in marching order, the bier covered with yellow satin, vivid, - brilliant, embroidered with red phoenixes that marked her high rank—the - dragon for the Emperor, the phoenix for his consort. The two pieces of - wood clacked together harshly and the enormous bier moved on. It was - mounted on immense yellow poles and borne by eighty men dressed in - brilliant robes of variegated muslin, red being the predominating colour. - They wore hats with yellow feathers coming out of the crown, and they - staggered under their burden, as might the slaves in Nineveh or Babylon - have faltered and groaned beneath their burdens, two thousand years ago. - </p> - <p> - Out of the northern archway came the camels and the horses, the soldiers, - the lamas, the eunuchs, out came all the quaint gay paraphernalia—umbrellas, - and fans, palankeens, and sedan chairs, and banners—and slowly - crossed the great courtyard, the arena; a stop, a long pause, then on - again, and the southern gate swallowed them up, again the clack of the - strips of wood, and the mighty bier, borne on the shoulders of the - Babylonish slaves. Slowly, slowly, then it stood still, and we felt as if - it must stay there for ever, as if the eighty men who upheld it must be - suffering unspeakable things. Once more the clack of the strips of wood, - and the southern archway in due course swallowed it up, too, with the few - halberdiers and the detachment of soldiery who completed the procession. - <span class="pagenum">097</span><a name="link097" id="link097"></a>Outside - the Chien Men was the railway station, the crowded people—crowded - like Chinese flies in summer, and that is saying a great deal—were - cleared away by the soldiers, the bier was lifted on to a car, the bands - struck up a weird funeral march, the soldiers presented arms, the lama - priests fell on their knees, and then very, very slowly the train steamed - out of the station, and the last of the Manchu Empresses was borne to her - long home. - </p> - <p> - Was it impressive I asked myself as I went down the ramp? And the answer - was a little difficult to find. Quaint and strange and Eastern, for the - thing that has struck me so markedly in China was here marked as ever. It - was like the paper money that was thrown with such lavish generosity into - the air. Amongst all the magnificence was the bizarre note—that - discordant touch of tawdriness. Beneath the gorgeous robes of the - attendants, plainly to be seen, were tatters and uncleanliness, the - soldiers in their ill-fitting uniforms looked makeshift, and the police - wanted dusting. And yet—and again I must say and yet, for want of - better words—behind it all was some reality, something that gripped - like the haunting sound of the dirge, or the stately march of the camels - that have defied all change. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—A TIME OF REJOICING - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">098</span><a name="link098" id="link098"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The charm of Peking—A Chinese theatre—Electric light—The - custodian of the theatre—Bargaining for a seat—The orchestra—The - scenery of Shakespeare—Realistic gesture—A city wall—A - mountain spirit—Gorgeous dresses—Bundles of towels—Women's - gallery—Armed patrols—Rain in April—The food of the - peasant—Famine—The value of a daughter—God be thanked.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Legation - Quarter in Peking, as I was reminded twenty times a day, is not China, it - is not even Peking, but it is a pleasant place in which to stay; a place - where one may foregather and exchange ideas with one's kind, and yet - whence one may go forth and see all Peking; more, may see places where - still the foreigner is something to be stared at, and wondered at, and - where the old, unchanging civilisation still goes on. Ordinarily if you - would see something new, something that gives a fresh sensation, it is - necessary to go out from among your kind and brave discomfort, or spend a - small fortune to guard against that discomfort, but here, in Peking, you - who are interested in such things may see an absolutely new world, and yet - have all the comforts, except reading matter, to which you have been - accustomed in London. It was no wonder I lingered in Peking. Always there - was something <span class="pagenum">099</span><a - name="link099_rdquo_________id_" id="link099_rdquo_________id_"></a>new to - see, always there was something fresh to learn, and at any moment, within - five minutes, I could step out into another world, the world of Marco - Polo, the world the Jesuit Fathers saw when first the Western nations were - beginning to realise there were any countries besides their own. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0157.jpg" alt="0157 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0157.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - There are people—I have heard them—who complain that Peking is - dull. Do not believe them. But, after all, perhaps I am not the best - judge. As a young girl, trammelled by trying to do the correct thing and - behave as a properly brought up young lady ought, I have sometimes, say at - an afternoon call when I hope I was behaving prettily, found life dull, - but since I have gone my own way I have been sad sometimes, lonely often, - but dull never, and for that God be thanked. But Peking, I think, would be - a very difficult place in which to be really dull. - </p> - <p> - It is even possible to go to the theatre every night, but it is a Chinese - theatre and that will go a long way. Nevertheless, I felt it was a thing I - should like to see; so one evening two of my friends took me to the best - theatre that was open. The best was closed for political reasons they - said, because the new Government, not as sure of itself as it would like - to be, did not wish the people to assemble together. This was a minor - theatre, a woman's theatre; that is one where only women were the - actors, quite a new departure in the Celestial world, for until about a - year before the day of which I write, no woman was ever seen upon the - stage, and her parts, as they were in the old days in Europe, were taken - by men and boys. Even now, men and women never appear on the stage - together, never, never do the sexes <span class="pagenum">100</span><a - name="link100_rdquo_________id_" id="link100_rdquo_________id_"></a>mingle - in China, and the women who act take the very lowest place in the social - scale. - </p> - <p> - One cold night in March three rickshaws put us down at an open doorway in - the Chinese City outside the Tartar wall. The Chinese the greatest - connoisseurs of pictures do not as yet think much of posters, though the - British and American Tobacco Company is doing its best to educate them up - to that level, so outside this theatre the door was not decorated with - photographs of the lovely damsels to be seen within, clad in as few - clothes as the censor will allow, but the intellects of the patrons were - appealed to, and all around the doors were bright red sheets of paper, on - which the delights offered for the evening were inscribed in characters of - gold. - </p> - <p> - We went along a narrow passage with a floor of hard, beaten earth, and - dirty whitewashed walls on either side, along such a passage I could - imagine went those who first listened to the sayings of Hamlet, Prince of - Denmark. The light was dim, the thrifty Chinaman was not going to waste - the precious and expensive light of compressed gas where it was not really - needed, and from behind the wall came the weird strains of Chinese music. - There appeared to be only one door, and here sat a fat and smiling - Chinese, who explained to my friends that by the rules of the theatre, the - men and women were divided, and that I must go to the women's - gallery. They demurred. It would be very dull for me, who could not - understand a word of the language, to sit alone. Could no exception be - made in my favour? The doorkeeper was courteous as only a Chinese can be, - and said that for his part, <span class="pagenum">101</span><a - name="link101_rdquo_________id_" id="link101_rdquo_________id_"></a>he had - no objection; but the custodian of the theatre, put there by the - Government to ensure law and order, would object. - </p> - <p> - I wanted badly to stay with these men who could explain to me all that was - going on, so we sent for the custodian, another smiling gentleman, not - quite so fat, in the black and yellow uniform of the military police. He - listened to all we had to say, sympathised, but declared that the - regulations must be carried out. My friends put it to him that the - regulations were archaic, and that it was high time they were altered. He - smilingly agreed. They were archaic, very; but then you see, they were the - regulations. He was here to see that they were carried out, and he - suggested, as an alternative, that we should take one of the boxes at the - side. The question of sitting in front was dismissed, and we gave - ourselves to the consideration of a box for which six dollars, that is - twelve shillings English currency, or three dollars American, were - demanded. We demurred, it seems you always question prices in China. We - told the doorkeeper that the price was very high, and that as we were - sitting where we did not wish to sit, he ought to come down. He did. - Shades of Keith and Prowse! Two dollars! - </p> - <p> - We went up some steep and narrow steps of the most primitive order, were - admitted to a large hall lighted by compressed gas—in Cambulac! here - in the heart of an ancient civilisation—surrounded by galleries with - fronts of a dainty lattice-work of polished wood, such as the Chinese - employ for windows, and we took our places in a box, humbly furnished with - bare benches and a wooden table. Just beneath us was the stage, and the - play was in <span class="pagenum">102</span><a name="link102" id="link102"></a>full - swing—actors, property men, and orchestra all on at once. It was - large and square, raised a little above the people in the body of the hall - and surrounded by a little low screen of the same dainty lattice-work. At - the back was the orchestra, composed only of men in ordinary coolie dress—dark - blue cotton—with long queues. There were castanets, and a drum, - cymbals, native fiddle, and various brazen instruments that looked like - brass trays, and they all played untiringly, with an energy worthy of a - better cause, and with the apparent intention—it couldn't have - been so really—of drowning the actors. Yet taken altogether the - result was strangely quaint and Eastern. - </p> - <p> - The entertainment consisted of a number of little plays lasting from half - an hour to about an hour. There were never more than half a dozen people - on the stage at once, very often only two in the play altogether, and what - it was all about we could only guess after all, for even my friends, who - could speak ordinary Chinese fluently, could not understand much that was - said. Possibly this was because every actor, instead of using the ordinary - conversational tone, adapted as we adapt it to the stage, used a high, - piercing falsetto that was extremely unnatural, and reminded me of nothing - on this earth that I know of except perhaps a pig-killing. Still even I - gathered something of the story of the play as it progressed, for the - gestures of these women, unlike their voices, were extremely dramatic, and - some of the situations were not to be mistaken. Scenery was as it was in - Shakespeare's day. It was understood. But for all the bare crudity, - the dresses of the actors which belonged to a previous age, <span - class="pagenum">103</span><a name="link103" id="link103"></a>whether they - were supposed to represent men or women, were most rich and beautiful. The - general, with his hideously painted face and his long black beard of - thread, wore a golden embroidered robe that must have been worth a small - fortune; a soldier, apparently a sort of Dugald Dalgety, who pits himself - against a scholar clad in modest dark colours, appeared in a blue satin of - the most delicate shade, beautifully embroidered with gorgeous lotus - flowers and palms; and the principal ladies, who were really rather pretty - in spite of their highly painted faces and weird head-dresses, wore robes - of delicate loveliness that one of my companions, whose business it was to - know about such matters, told me must have been, like the general's, - of great value. The comic servant or country man wore a short jumper and a - piece of white paper and powder about his nose. It certainly did make him - look funny. The dignified scholar was arrayed all in black, the soldier - wore the gayest of embroidered silks and satins, the landlady of the inn - or boarding-house, a pleasant, smiling woman with roses in her hair and - tiny maimed feet, had a pattern of black lace-work painted on her - forehead, and when the male characters had to be very fierce indeed, they - wore long and flowing beards, beards to which no Chinaman, I fear me, can - ever hope to attain, for the Chinaman is not a hairy man. When a gallant - gentleman with tight sleeves which proclaimed him a warrior, and a long - beard of bright red thread which made him a very fierce warrior indeed, - snapped his fingers and lifted up his legs, lifted them up vehemently, you - knew that he was getting over a wall or mounting his horse. You could take - your choice. A mountain, the shady <span class="pagenum">104</span><a - name="link104" id="link104"></a>side of it, was represented by one panel - of a screen which leaned drunkenly against a very ordinary chair, giving - shelter to a very evil spirit with a dress that represented a leopard, and - a face of the grimmest and most terrifying of those animals. - </p> - <p> - This was a play that required much property to be displayed, for a general - with a face painted all black and white and long black beard, with his - army of five, took refuge behind a stout city wall that was made of thin - blue cotton stuff supported on four bamboo poles, and this convenient wall - marched on to the stage in the hands of a couple of stout coolies. A - wicked mountain spirit outside the walls did terrible things. Ever and - again flashes of fire burst out after his speech, and I presume you were - not supposed to see the coolie who manipulated that fire, though he stood - on the stage as large as any actors in the piece. - </p> - <p> - It is hard, too, talking in that high falsetto against the shrieking, - strident notes of the music, so naturally the actors constantly required a - little liquid refreshment, and an attendant was prompt in offering tea in - tiny round basins; and nobody saw anything incongruous in his standing - there with the teapot handy, and in slack moments taking a sip himself. - </p> - <p> - The fun apparently consisted in repartee, and every now and then, the - audience, who were silent and engrossed, instead of applauding - spontaneously, ejaculated, as if at a word of command, “Hao!” - which means “Good!” - </p> - <p> - That audience was the best-behaved and most attentive I have ever seen. It - consisted mostly of men, as far as I could see, of the middle class. <span - class="pagenum">105</span><a name="link105" id="link105"></a>They were - packed close together, with here and there a little table or bench among - them; and up and down went vendors of apples, oranges, pieces of - sugar-cane, cakes and sweetmeats. - </p> - <p> - There were also people who supplied hot, damp towels. A man stood here and - there in the audience, and from the outer edge of the theatre, came - hurtling to him, over the heads of the people, a bundle of these towels. - For a cent or so apiece he distributed them, the members of the audience - taking a refreshing wipe of face and head and hands and handing the towels - back. When the purveyor of the towels had used up all his stock, and got - them all back again, he tied them up into a neat bundle, and threw them - back the way they had come, receiving a fresh stock in return. Never did a - bundle of towels fail in reaching its appointed place, and scores of cents - must the providers have pocketed. For the delight of ventilation is not - appreciated in China, and to say that theatre was stuffy is a mild way of - putting it. The warm wet towel must have given a sort of refreshment. They - offered us some up in the dignified seclusion of our box, but we felt we - could sustain life without washing our faces with doubtful towels during - the progress of the entertainment. Tea was brought, too, excellent Chinese - tea, and I drank it with pleasure. I drink Chinese tea without either milk - or sugar as a matter of course now; but that night at the Chinese theatre - I was only trying it and wondering could I drink it at all. - </p> - <p> - Opposite us was the women's gallery, full of Chinese and Manchu - ladies, with high headdresses and highly painted faces. The Chinese ladies - often paint their faces, but their attempts at <span class="pagenum">106</span><a - name="link106" id="link106"></a>decoration pale before that of the - Manchus, who put on the colour with such right goodwill that every woman - when she is dressed in her smartest, looks remarkably like a sign-board. - The wonder is that anyone could possibly be found who could admire the - unnatural effect. Someone, I suppose, there is, or it would not be done, - but no men went near the women's gallery that evening. It would have - been the grossest breach of decorum for a man to do any such thing, and - the painted ladies drank their tea by themselves. - </p> - <p> - Somewhere about midnight, earlier than usual, consequent, I imagine, upon - the disturbed state of the country, the entertainment ended with a perfect - crash of music, and the most orderly audience in the world went out into - the streets of the Chinese City, into the clear night. Only in very recent - years, they tell me, have the streets of Peking been lighted. Formerly the - people went to bed at dusk, but they seem to have taken very kindly to the - change, for the streets were thronged. There were people on foot, people - in rickshaws, people in the springless Peking carts, and important - personages with outriders and footmen in the glass broughams beloved by - the Chinese; and there were the military police everywhere, now at night - with rifles across their shoulders. Here, disciplining this most orderly - crowd, they struck me as being strangely incongruous. I wondered at those - police then, and I wonder still. What are they for? Whatever the reason, - there they were at every few yards. Never have I had such a strange - home-coming from a theatre. Down on us forty feet high frowned the walls - built in past ages, we crossed the Beggars' <span class="pagenum">107</span><a - name="link107" id="link107"></a>Bridge of glorious marble, we went under - the mighty archway of the Chien Men, and we entered the Legation Quarter - guarded like a fortress, and I went to bed meditating on the difference - between a Chinese play and a modern musical comedy. They have, I fancy, - one thing in common. They are interesting enough to see for the first - time, but a little of them goes a long way. - </p> - <p> - I went to bed under a clear and cloudless sky, and the next morning, to my - astonishment, it was raining. I have, of course, seen rain many, many - times, and many, many times have I seen heavier rain than fell all this - April day in Peking, but never before, not even in my own country where - rain is the great desideratum, have I seen rain better worth recording. - </p> - <p> - It was indeed this April day rain at last! - </p> - <p> - “To everything there is a season,” says the preacher, and the - spring is the time for a little rain in Northern China. In England people - suppose it rains three hundred and sixty days out of the three hundred and - sixty-five, except in Leap Year when we manage to get in another rainy - day, but as a matter of fact, I believe the average is about one hundred - and fifty wet days in the year, with a certain number more in which clouds - in the sky blot out the sunshine. In the north of China, on the other - hand, there had been, to all intents and purposes, no cloud in the sky - since the summer rains of 1912, till this rain in April which I looked out - upon. Is not rain like that worth recording? Still more do I feel it is - worth recording when I think of what that day's rain, that seemed so - little to me, meant to millions of people. All through the bitter cold - winter the <span class="pagenum">108</span><a name="link108" id="link108"></a>country - lay in the grip of the frost, but the sun reigned in a heaven of peerless - blue, and the light was brilliant with a brilliancy that makes the - sunshine of a June day in England a poor, pale thing. The people counted - for their crops on the rain that would come in due season, the rain in the - spring. March came with the thaw, and the winds from the north lifted the - loose soil into the air in clouds of dust. But March passed alternating - brilliant sunshine and clouds of dust, and there was never a cloud in the - sky, never a drop of moisture for the gasping earth. April came—would - it go on like this till June? Rain that comes in due season is necessary - to the crops that are the wealth, nay the very life of Northern China. - </p> - <p> - From the beams of the peasant's cottage hang the cobs of corn, each - one counted; in jars or boxes is his little store of grain, millet—just - bird-seed in point of fact—he has a few dried persimmons perhaps and—nothing - else. Twice a day the housewife measures out the grain for the meal—she - knows, the tiniest child in the household knows exactly how long it will - last with full measure, how it may be spun out over a few more dreary, - hunger-aching days, how then, if the rain has not come, if the crops have - failed, famine will stalk in the land, famine, cruel, pitiless, and from - his grip there is no escaping. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0169.jpg" alt="0169 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0169.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Think of it, as I did that April day in Peking, when I watched the rain - pelting down. Think of the dumb, helpless peasant watching the cloudless - blue sky and the steadily diminishing store of grain, watching, hoping, - for the faintest wisp of white cloud that shall give promise of a little - moisture. <span class="pagenum">109</span><a name="link109" id="link109"></a>They - tell me, those who know, that the Chinaman is a fatalist, that he never - looks so far ahead, but do they not judge him with Western eyes? True he - seldom complains, but he tills his fields so carefully that he must see in - imagination the crops they are to produce, he must know, how can he help - knowing, that if there be no harvest, there is an end to his home, his - family, his children; that if perchance his life be spared, it will be - grey and empty, broken, desolate, scarce worth living. Every scanty - possession will have to be sold to buy food in a ruinously high market, - even the loved children, and no one who has seen them together can doubt - that the Chinese deeply love their children, must go, though for the - little daughter whose destination will be a brothel of one of the great - cities, but two dollars, four pitiful shillings, may be hoped for, and - when that is eaten up, the son sold into slavery will bring very little - more. To sell their children sounds terrible, but what can they do? Some - must be sacrificed that the others may have a chance of life, and even if - they are not sacrificed, their fate is to die slowly under the bright sky, - in the relentless sunshine. This is the spectre that haunts the peasant. - This is the thing that has befallen his fathers, that has befallen him, - that may befall him again any year, that no care on his part can guard him - from, that the clear sky for ever threatens. - </p> - <p> - “From plague, pestilence and famine, Good Lord deliver us.” - </p> - <p> - Does ever that Litany to the Most High go up in English cathedral with - such prayerful fervour, such thorough realisation of what is meant by the - <span class="pagenum">110</span><a name="link110" id="link110"></a>supplication, - as is in the heart of the peasant mother in China, carefully measuring out - the grain for the meal. Only she would put it the other way. “F rom - famine, and the plague and pestilence that stalk in the wake of the - famine, oh pitiful, merciful God deliver us!” - </p> - <p> - And when I took all this in, when I heard men who had seen the suffering - describe it, was it any wonder that I rejoiced at the dull grey sky, at - the sound of the rain on the roof, at the water rushing down the gutters. - </p> - <p> - On the gently sloping hill-sides of Manchuria, where they grow the famous - bean, the hill-sides that I had seen in their winter array, on the wide - plains of Mongolia, where only the far horizon bounds the view, and you - march on to a yet farther horizon where the Mongol tends his flocks and - herds, and the industrious Chinaman, pushing out beyond the protecting - wall, has planted beans and sown oats, in Honan, where the cotton and the - maize and the kaoliang grow, all along the gardens and grain-fields of - Northern China, had come the revivifying rain. The day before, under the - blue sky, lay the bare brown earth, acres and acres, miles and miles of - it, carefully tilled, nowhere in the world have I seen such carefully - tilled land, full of promise, but of promise only, of a rich harvest. - Then, not hoped for so late, a boon hardly to be prayed for, welcome as - sunshine never was welcome, came the rain, six hours steady rain, and the - spectre of famine, ever so close to the Chinese peasant, for a time - drifted into the background with old, unhappy, long-forgotten things. Next - morning on all the khaki-coloured country outside Peking was a tinge of - <span class="pagenum">111</span><a name="link111" id="link111"></a>green, - and we knew that a bountiful harvest was ensured, knew that soon the - country would be a beautiful emerald. The house-mother, the patient, - uncomplaining, ignorant, Chinese house-mother, might fill her pot - joyfully, the house-father might look at his little daughter, with the red - thread twisted in her hair, and know, that for a year at least, she was - safe in his sheltering arms, for the blessed rain had come, God given. - </p> - <p> - Peking in the rain is an uncomfortable place. It is built for the - sunshine. The streets of the city were knee-deep in mud, the hu t'ungs - were impassable for a man on foot unless he would be mud up to the knees, - for there had been six hours solid downpour, and every moment it continued - was worth pounds to the country. What was a twenty-five million loan with - its heavy interest, against such a rain as this? More than one hundred - thousand people were affected by the downpour, were glad and rejoicing - that day at the good-fortune that had befallen them. This mass of human - beings, at the very lowest computation had considerably more than - twenty-five million pounds rained down upon it in the course of six hours. - There came with that rain, that blurred the windows of my room, prosperity - for the land, and, for a time at least, peace, for peace and good harvests - in China are sometimes interchangeable terms. What did it matter to - Northern China at that moment that the nations were bickering over the - loan, that America was promising, Britain hesitating, Russia threatening? - What did it matter whether Emperor, President, or Dictator, was in power? - What did it matter that the national representatives hesitated to come to - the capital? <span class="pagenum">112</span><a name="link112" id="link112"></a>What - did it matter what mistakes they made? What does the peasant tilling his - field, the woman filling her cooking-pot know about these things? What do - they care? A mightier factor than these, a greater power than man's - had stepped in. God be thanked, in China that day it rained. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">113</span><a name="link113" id="link113"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Courteous Americans—Nankou Pass—Beacon towers—Inaccessible - hills—“Balbus has built a wall”—Tiny towns—“Watchman, - what of the night?”—Deserted watch-towers—-Thoughtful - Chinese waiter—Ming Tombs—Chinese carrying chair—Stony - way—Greatest p'ia lou in China—Amphitheatre among the - barren hills—Tomb of Yung Lo—Trunks of sandal-wood trees—Enterprising - Chinese guard.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>herever I might - wander in China, and with the rumours of war that were in the air, it - looked as if my wanderings were going to be somewhat restricted, to one - place I was bound to wander, and that was the Great Wall of China. Even in - the days of my grandmother's curios, I had heard about that, one of - the wonders of the world, and I could never have left China without seeing - it. - </p> - <p> - “You can do it in a couple of days,” said the young man, who - had chastened me gently when first I entered Peking. “I'm - going up on Tuesday, You'd better come along. The poet's - coming too,” he added. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">114</span><a name="link114" id="link114"></a>The - poet, a real live poet, who thought a deal more about his binding than his - public, was like me I think, he did not like seeing places in crowds, and - at first he did not give us much of his society. There was also a - millionaire, an American millionaire, his little wife, his big daughter, - and his angular <span class="pagenum">114</span><a - name="link114_rdquo_________id_" id="link114_rdquo_________id_"></a>maiden - sister. They had an observation-car fixed on to the train, and the guard - came along and said that if we ordinary travellers, who were not - millionaires, cared to come in the car, the millionaire would be very - pleased. - </p> - <p> - I have travelled so much by myself that the chance of congenial company - once in a way was delightful, but I did feel we ought not to have taken - the train to the Nankou Pass. A mule litter, or a Peking cart would have - been so much more suitable. However, it is as well to be as comfortable as - possible. - </p> - <p> - From the north came China's foes, the sturdy horsemen from Mongolia, - the mountain men from the Manchurian Hills, and because the peaceful, - industrious inhabitants of the rich; alluvial plains feared greatly the - raiders, they, just at the Nankou Pass, where these inaccessible hills - might be passed, built watch-towers and kept ward. There they stand, even - to this day, upon jutting peaks where the pass opens into the plain, grey - stone watch-towers with look-outs and slits for the archers, and - beacon-towers which could flash the fiery warning that should rouse the - country to the south. For thirteen miles we went up the pass, the cleft - that the stream, babbling cheerfully now in April over its water-worn - rocks, has carved for itself through the stony hills, and its weird beauty - never palls. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">115</span><a name="link115" id="link115"></a>Always - there were the hills, broken to pieces, tossed together by the hand of a - giant, there were great clefts in them, vistas looking up stony and - inaccessible valleys, gullies that are black as if a burning fiery furnace - had been set in their midst, little pockets where the stream widened and - there was a patch of green pasture, some goats grazing, a small, neat - farm-house and fruit-trees, pink and white, almond, peach, or pear, a - wealth of blossom. On every patch of those barren hill-sides where a tree - might grow, a tree—a fruit-tree—because the Chinaman is - strictly utilitarian, had been planted; only here and there, over the - sacred graves of China, there was a patch of willow, tender with the - delicate dainty green of early spring. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0177.jpg" alt="0177 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0177.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Always in China there are people; and here there were tiny towns packed - together on ledges of the eternal hills, with the fruit-trees and the - willows that shade the graves, and there were walls—walls that - stretch up to the inaccessible portion of the hills, where only a goat - might climb, and no invading army could possibly pass. So numerous were - these walls that my cheery young friend suggested that if ever a village - head-man had a little spare time on his hands he remarked: “Oh, I - say, here's a fine day and plenty of stones, let's go out and - build a wall.” And then next day the villagers in the next hamlet - looking out said, “By Jove, Balbus, no Wong, has built a wall. We - can't be beat.” But I don't think in the old days the - villagers on those hills ever took life quite as lightly as that. - </p> - <p> - Over and over again it is repeated, the watch-towers on the hills and the - strips of wall running down into the valley, walls with wide tops on which - companies of archers might stand, protected by a breast-work slit for - arrows, with a wall behind again to which they might retire if they were - beaten, making the space between hard to hold, even for a victorious - enemy. Always there were the walls and watch-towers as we went on up the - valley, telling (116)in their own way, the story of the strenuous lives of - the men who lived here in the old days. - </p> - <p> - Down the mule track these walls command came an endless company of people, - wandering along, slowly, persistently, as they have wandered since the - dawn of history. They had mules, and donkeys, and horses—muzzled so - that they cannot eat the tufts of herbage by the roadside—laden with - grain, and hides, and all manner of merchandise. There were blue-coated - coolies trudging along with bamboos across their shoulders, their heavy - loads dangling from either end; and there were laden camels, the ragged - dromedaries from Mongolia, long lines of them, picking their way among the - stones along the road by the side of the stream. The camels, and the - walls, and the watch-towers go together, they enhance the wonder and the - charm of this road to the Great Wall. - </p> - <p> - Up and up we went, up the valley, past the great archway where is the - Customs barrier even to-day, and on, higher and higher, deeper into the - hills, till ahead, crowning them, climbing their steepest points, bridging - their most inaccessible declivities, clear-cut against the blue sky, I saw - what I had come out to see, one of the wonders of the world, the Great - Wall of China! Here among the stony, arid hills, that anywhere else in the - world would be left to the rock-doves and the rabbits, we came upon a - piece of man's handiwork that for ages has cried aloud to those who - have eyes to see, or ears to hear, of the colossal industry of China, nay - of more than that, of the sacrifice of the individual for the good of the - community. On and on went the Wall, up and up and up, climbing steadily, - falling, climbing again, <span class="pagenum">117</span><a - name="link117_rdquo_________id_" id="link117_rdquo_________id_"></a>and - again dropping into the valleys. There were watch-towers and a broad - highway along its top; here stood the sentries, who kept ceaseless watch - and ward looking ever for the invader, whether he came in countless array, - a conquering army, or in small raiding bands that might take toll of the - rich crops to the south, steal a few women, or hold a wealthy squire up to - ransom. - </p> - <p> - “Watchman, what of the night? What of the night? Is the road clear - to the north? Hist! Hist! What is that beneath the loom of the hills? What - is the sound that comes up on the wind?” - </p> - <p> - “There are always dark shadows in the loom of the hills, and it is - only a stone falling down the gully.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, but the dark shadows have hidden a band of Manchurian archers, - and the stone might be loosened by the hoof of a Mongol pony. Watchman! - Watchman, what of the night? What of the night?” - </p> - <p> - That was the way I felt about it as, having got out of the train, and - taken a chair, we made our way through the desolate country to the Nankou - Pass, and I, forgetting all else, stood gazing my fill at the Wall I had - heard about ever since I was a little child. Dreaming of what it must have - been in the past, I forgot, for the moment, the present, and the passing - of time. I was alone, as the poet wished to be, and then a high-pitched - voice brought me to this present day again. - </p> - <p> - “Say Momma,” said the millionaire—we thought he was a - millionaire because of the observation-car, but he may have been just more - ordinarily well-to-do than a writer of books—“where's - Cora?” <span class="pagenum">118</span><a name="link118" id="link118"></a>"Search - me,” said Momma placidly. - </p> - <p> - He didn't search her, perhaps because, seeing she was but five feet - and small and thin at that, he did not think it likely that Cora, who was - a buxom young person close on six feet, could possibly be concealed - anywhere about her person. - </p> - <p> - The maiden aunt pointed an accusing finger up the rough, grass-grown - stones that make the top of the Wall. - </p> - <p> - “Skipping like a young ram,” she snorted, and then all three - raised their voices, and those old-world rocks rang with shouts of “Cora! - Cora!! Cora!!!” - </p> - <p> - I trembled for the poet's feelings, if he were anywhere within - range, but after all, in their own way and time, I dare say the keepers of - the Wall were just as commonplace. My companion, who was steadily making - his way up the Wall beside Cora, turned at the ear-piercing yells, looked - at his watch, spoke to the girl, and came slowly back while she quickened - her pace for a moment, as if determined to get over the other side of the - hill, whatever happened. - </p> - <p> - “The young gentleman has the most sense,” opined Momma. - </p> - <p> - “She'll come now he's turned,” said the maiden - aunt acidly, and even though she did come, down across the rough stones, - by the ruined watch-towers, I felt the insinuation was unjust. - </p> - <p> - Those watch-towers are empty now, deserted and desolate. No thoughtful - captain, weighed down with responsibility, looks through their arched - windows, no javelin men stand on the stone steps, no sentry tramps along - peering out to the north. <span class="pagenum">119</span><a - name="link119_rdquo_________id_" id="link119_rdquo_________id_"></a>The - Wall is tumbling into disrepair, the grass and weeds grow up between the - stones, and the wonder of the world is a mighty ruin, stately even in its - decay, for never again beneath the sun will such another wall be built. - Look at it climbing up those hills, cutting the blue sky, bridging the - gullies, and think of the tears, and sweat, and blood, that went to the - building of it! That foundations may be well and truly laid, so says - tradition, they must be laid on a living human being. It is one way of - saying that on sacrifice our lives are based, that for every good thing in - life something of value must be given; so to the building of the Wall, - that was to hold China safe, went hundreds and thousands of lives, and its - upkeep and its watching cost more than we can well imagine. - </p> - <p> - We went back to the Ching Er Hotel at Nankou, the little hotel close to - the railway and plunged once more into modern life for, unpretentious and - kept by Chinese as it is, it still represented the present day. It is just - one big room, divided into a hall and many little rooms by so many sheets - of paper, so that the man in the room in front may whisper and nothing be - lost upon the man in the room at the back, six rooms away, while to have a - bath is a matter of public interest, for the smallest splash can be heard - from one end of the building to the other. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, I shall always have friendly feelings towards that little - hotel, where they lodged me so hardly, and fed me so well. - </p> - <p> - They considered one in every way, too. The poet had evidently not been - troubled by the family affection of the millionaires, he walked back from - the <span class="pagenum">120</span><a name="link120" id="link120"></a>Wall, - and was so full of enthusiasm he forgave my presence, came to me as I sat - at dinner and, covered with the dust of the way as he was, stood, and just - as I should expect of a poet, waxed eloquent on the glories he had seen. - The Chinese waiter, with shaven head and long blue smock, let him go on - for a few minutes, then he took him gently and respectfully by the sleeve. - </p> - <p> - “Vash,” he said solemnly, without the ghost of a smile on his - face; “vash,” and the poet came to earth with a laugh. We both - laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Well, yes,” he said looking at his dust-begrimed person. - “I suppose I had better wash. I'll be back in a moment. May I - sit at your table?” - </p> - <p> - And next day I went to see the Ming Tombs. - </p> - <p> - St Paul's and Westminster are set in the heart of a mighty city, - ever by the peaceful dead sounds the clamour of the living, yet the living - forget, in spite of the daily reminder they forget. In China, where graves - dot every field, and are part and parcel of the lives of the people, they - bury the honoured dead far apart from the rush and roar of everyday life, - and they never forget. The Nankou Pass is two hours from Peking, and the - tombs of the Ming Emperors are nine miles from the Nankou Pass, set in the - very heart of the hills. The entrance to the pass is barren and lonely - enough, but the extra nine miles is like journeying into the wilderness - where the scapegoat, burdened with the sins of the community, was driven - by the Israelites. It is a long, long nine miles over a stony mule track - where only a donkey, a pony, or a chair can go, and yet here centuries - ago, when it was ten times farther away, China buried her dead, the men - who sat on <span class="pagenum">121</span><a name="link121" id="link121"></a>the - Dragon Throne, and bridged for the nation the gap that lies between mortal - men and high Heaven. It is lonely now when the roadway of the West brings - Nankou close to the capital, it must have been unspeakably lonely in the - days before the opening of the railway. A chair seemed to me the only way - to get there, a chair borne by four blue-clad coolies with queues wrapped - round their shaven heads, and while my companion rode a pony, in a chair I - swung over the stony narrow track away towards the hills. The hills were - rugged and barren, the same hills that the Wall crossed; on their stony - sides no green thing could ever grow, and they were brown, and pink, and - grey, and when a white cloud gathered here and there in the faraway blue - sky, the shadows lay across them in great purple patches. And the road was - stony, barely to be seen, impossible for wheeled traffic, even the - primitive wheeled traffic of Northern China. I doubt even if a wheelbarrow - could have gone along it. I doubted often whether the heaps of stones on - the slope could possibly be a road, but the coolies seemed to know, and - went steadily on, changing the pole from one shoulder to the other so - often that it gave me a feeling of brutality that I should use such a - means of locomotion. The only person who was comfortable was I. - </p> - <p> - My companion rode beside me sometimes. He felt himself responsible for my - well-being, and it was good to be looked after. - </p> - <p> - “Are you all right?” - </p> - <p> - All right! If the country round was desolate, the sunshine was glorious, - the air, the clear, dry air of Northern China was as invigorating as - champagne, <span class="pagenum">122</span><a name="link122" id="link122"></a>and - I knew that I could go on for ever and feel myself much blessed. The Ming - Tombs were but an excuse; it was well and more than well to be here in the - open spaces of the earth, to draw deep breaths, to feel that neither past - nor future mattered; here beneath the open sky in the golden sunshine - swinging along, somewhere, anywhere, I had all I could ask of life. - </p> - <p> - And always it was a stony way. Sometimes the coolies climbed up a bank of - loose stones that slipped and rolled away as they passed, sure-footed as - goats, sometimes the stones were piled on either side and a sort of track - meandered in between, sometimes they were scattered all over the plain in - such masses that even the industrious Chinese seemed to have given up the - task of clearing them away as hopeless, and had simply tilled the land in - between. For this was no uninhabited desert, desolate as it seemed. Always - we came across little stone-built hamlets, there were men and women - working in the fields, and rosy-cheeked children stood by the wayside and - waved their little hands to the passing stranger. There would be the sound - of bells, and a string of mules or donkeys came picking their way as - soberly as the coolies themselves, and left much to themselves by their - ragged drivers. They looked of the poorest, these people, men and women - clad much alike in dirty blue that, torn here and there, let out the - cotton-wool which padded it for winter warmth. - </p> - <p> - Probably they knew nothing, nothing of the world beyond their little - dusty, stony hamlets, they prayed perhaps for the rain that should moisten - their dusty, stony fields, and give them the mess of meal, the <span - class="pagenum">123</span><a name="link123" id="link123"></a>handful of - persimmons that is all they ask of Fate, and they watched the few - strangers who came to visit the tombs, and perhaps never even wondered - what the outside world might be like, if it gave to those who lived there - anything more than fell to the lot of the humble dwellers on the road to - the Ming Tombs. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0189.jpg" alt="0189 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0189.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And at last in the pleasant noontide we came to the p'ia lou at the - entrance, the greatest p'ia lou in China, that land of p'ia - lous, and standing there I realised, not only the beauty of the archway, - but the wonder of the place the Mings had chosen to be theirs for all - time. It is a great amphitheatre among these barren hills. St Paul's - or Westminster could not hold these tombs, for Hyde Park might be put in - this valley and yet not half fill it; and round it, set against the base - of the hills, in great courts enclosed in pinkish-red walls, the - counterpart of those round the Forbidden City, and planted with cypress - and pine, are the various tombs. A magnificent resting-place, truly! And - the dignity is enhanced by the desolate approach. Through the p'ia - lou is the famous Holy Way, the avenue of marble animals, of which all the - world has so often heard. What mystic significance had the marble elephant - and the camel, the kneeling horse and the sedate scholar? Possibly they - had no more than the general suggestion that all things did honour to the - mighty dead laid away in their tombs. A paved way runs between them, paved - with great blocks of marble brought from the hills, placed there in Bygone - ages by the hands of slaves, sweating and struggling under their loads, or - possibly by men just exactly like the men who were bearing me, men slaves - in all but name, who each day must earn a <span class="pagenum">124</span><a - name="link124_rdquo_________id_" id="link124_rdquo_________id_"></a>few - pence or go under in the pitiful struggle for life. The paved way that - runs on for three miles is worn and broken, the grass comes up between the - blocks, the bridges are falling into disrepair, but these things are - trifles in the face of the amphitheatre set among the eternal hills, the - blue sky and the sunshine, these are a memorial here, a memorial that - makes the work of men's hands but a small thing. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless that work is very wonderful. No one, I suppose, except he - were making Chinese art or antiquities a special study, would visit every - tomb in turn. It would take a week, and we, like the majority of visitors, - contented ourselves with that of Yung Lo, the principal one. And here is a - curious thing worth noting, a thing that possibly would happen nowhere - else in the world, showing how irrevocably China feels herself bound to - the past. The Ming Emperor was a Chinese, and the Republic that has just - overthrown the Manchu Dynasty, is also Chinese, so as a mark of respect, - they have repaired, after a fashion, this, the tomb of the greatest of the - Ming Emperors. That is to say—oh China! they have whitewashed the - marble, painted the golden-brown tiled roof of the temple, and swept and - garnished the great audience hall. - </p> - <p> - A tomb in China reminds me in no way of death. We entered through a door - studded with heavy brazen knobs a grass-grown courtyard, where were trees, - pine and cypress. We went along a paved way, and before us was a building - with a curved roof, with the tiles broken here and there; it was set on a - platform reached by flights of marble steps, or rather the flights of - steps were on either side, while in the centre was a ramp on which was - beautifully <span class="pagenum">125</span><a name="link125" id="link125"></a>carved - in relief the dragon, the sign of Empire, and the horse, which I have - heard some people say is the sign of good-fortune. On the platform, - through all the cracks in the marble, violets were forcing their way, - making a purple carpet under the golden sunshine. We crossed to a hall, - which is surely most wonderful. The light was subdued a little, and the - hall that contains in its centre the memorial tablet of red and gold is as - magnificent in its proportions as York Minster. The roof is supported by - trunks of sandal-wood trees, smooth, straight, and brown, they run sixty - feet up to the roof, and after more than five hundred years the air is - heavy with the sensuous scent of them. Where did they get that - sandal-wood, those trunks all of such noble proportions? They must have - cost an immense sum of money, for they never grew in Northern China. - </p> - <p> - Another courtyard is behind this hall of audience, where is a marble - fountain, whitewashed, and a spring that is supposed to cure all ills of - the eyes, and a door apparently leading into a hill-side, behind which is - a grove of cypress trees. The door being opened, we entered a paved tunnel - which led upwards to a chamber in the heart of the hill, whence two more - ramps led still upwards, one to the right and the other to the left, into - the open air again. Here the coffin was placed in the mound through the - top of the ramp. The stones with which the ramps were paved were worn and - slippery, the angle was steep, the leaves from the trees outside had - drifted in, and the effect was strange and weird. Nowhere else but in - China could such a thing be. And right on top of the mound, over the <span - class="pagenum">126</span><a name="link126" id="link126"></a>actual grave, - is another memorial tablet to the dead Emperor, looking away out over the - valley to the stony hills, that are the wall which hedges off this sacred - place from the outside world. - </p> - <p> - And Yung Lo, the Emperor, died in the first half of the fifteenth century. - How many people in England know or care, where Henry V. lies buried? - </p> - <p> - The evening was falling when we went back by the stony mule path, by the - little stony villages, where the mothers were calling their children in - from the fields, and the men were gathering at the meeting-places for the - evening gossip. Of what did they talk? Of the Emperor dead in his tomb - hundreds of years ago? Of the New Republic away in the capital? The - Emperor seemed somehow nearer to the village people. There was the sound - of quaint, tuneless, Eastern music, and sitting with the sun on his - sightless face, surrounded by a listening little crowd, was a blind - musician holding across his knees a sort of lute. The people turned and - watched as the strangers and the aliens passed, and the musician thrummed - on. Light or dark was the same to him. The clouds piled now in the western - sky, and the stony land looked unutterably dreary in the gathering gloom, - the coolies must have been weary, but they went steadily on, changing the - chair pole from one shoulder to the other. The slopes that had been hard - to scramble up were harder to scramble down, but they made no complaint. - This was their work, and the night was coming when they might rest. The - night was coming fast, but we were nearing the end of our journey. The - hills looked cold, and gloomy, and threatening, and then the heavy clouds - above them <span class="pagenum">127</span><a name="link127" id="link127"></a>broke, - and through them burst the setting sun in all the glory of silver, and - purple, and ruddy gold. Down on the barren hills, like a benediction, fell - his last rays, telling of hope for the morrow, and we turned into the yard - of the little inn, and the coolies bowed themselves to the ground, one - after the other, because they got a pitiful little over and above their - hard-earned wages. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0196.jpg" alt="0196 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0196.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And the next day we went back to Peking, back through the pass. - </p> - <p> - The Ching Er Hotel provided tiffin on the train, curried chicken and - mutton chops, some form of cakey pudding, cheese, and bread and butter, - all excellent in its way—and we were all so amiable, even the poet - had come down from the clouds and joined us, that we only laughed when we - found we were expected to pile all these good things on one plate, and do - it quickly before the train left! - </p> - <p> - As we were eating it, the guard came round and collected one dollar and - ninety cents extra apiece, because we had ridden on the observation-car. - We paid, and said hard things about the millionaire, but a little more - knowledge of ways Chinese has convinced me we accused him unjustly. I feel - sure that enterprising and observant guard took stock of us, saw that we - did not know the American, and collected, for the benefit of a highly - intelligent, and truly deserving Chinese railway official. - </p> - <p> - We seldom think of the Chinaman with the glamour of romance, but this - Nankou Pass is well-calculated to upset all our former ideas, and give us - a setting for China such as might apply to barbaric Italy or Provence of - the Middle Ages, only—and it is well to remember, what we barbarians - of the West <span class="pagenum">128</span><a name="link128" id="link128"></a>are - apt to forget—that in China, things have always moved in mightier - orbits, that where there were ten men in the Western world, you may count - a hundred in China, for a hundred a thousand, for a thousand ten thousand. - </p> - <p> - What must the Nankou Pass have been like on some bitter night in winter, - when the stars were like points of steel, and the stream was frozen in a - grip of iron, and the still air was keen, and hard, and cold, with the - bitter, biting sting of the northern winter? When the fires blazed in the - beacons on the hillsides, flinging their ruddy light, their message of - fear and warning. The keepers of the Wall were failing, the Mongol hordes - were pouring over the barrier, and it behoved every man who saw that ruddy - glare to arm and come to the keeping of the Pass, to die in its guarding. - They died and they held it, and they died and the invaders flung their - bodies to the wolves and the crows, and swept on and took the country - beyond for their own. - </p> - <p> - But the country to the south is China, China of the ages and she absorbs - nations, Mongol or Manchu, or men from her western borders, and makes them - one with herself. - </p> - <p> - This is the message I read in the Nankou Pass. I have changed my mind - again and again, and generally I do not believe what I read that day. But - it was firmly impressed on me then. China is not dead. The spirit that - conceived and built that mighty Wall is a living thing still. All down the - Pass, alongside the age-old mule track, runs a new road, a road of the - West, a railway, planned, and laid, and built entirely by Chinese without - any Western help except such as the sons of China got <span class="pagenum">129</span><a - name="link129" id="link129"></a>for themselves in the schools of America - and England. And it is not only well and truly laid, as well as, and - better than, many a Western railway, but behold the spirit of China has - entered in, the spirit, not of her poor, struggling for a crust of bread, - a mess of meal, but the spirit of the men who conceived and planned the - Wall, the beautiful Lama Temple, or the spacious courtyards and glorious - palaces of the Forbidden City. They have built embankments and curves, - tunnels and archways that are things of beauty, and glorious to look upon, - as surely never was railway before. They have built, and it is saying a - great deal, a railway that is worthy of the Nankou Pass. They are the - lineal descendants of the men, who, two thousand years ago, built the - Great Wall. Hail and all hail! - </p> - <p> - And then a railway man talked to me. The railway might be beautiful, but - it was costly beyond all excuse. The best of the ideas had come from - Europe, certainly these highly civilised, these over-civilised people - might be trusted to see and make a beautiful thing, the question was, - could they be trusted to manage a railway as a railway should be managed? - He thought not. They had somehow lost force. Well, we shall see. One thing - seems certain, between us Westerners and the Chinese, is a great gulf - fixed. We look across and sometimes we wonder, and sometimes we pity, and - sometimes we admire, but we cannot understand. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—TWO CHARITIES - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">130</span><a name="link130" id="link130"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The manufacturing of the blind—“Before born”—The - Rev. Hill Murray—“The Message”—Geography—Marriage—A - brave little explorer—Massacre of the blind—Deposits of one - tael—A missionary career—The charitable Chinese—A - Buddhist orphanage—Invitation to a funeral—An intellectual - abbot—The youngest orphan—Pity and mercy.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he blind musician - I had seen playing to the village folk with the setting sun, that he could - not see, on his face, remained in my mind. Why especially, I do not know, - for it is a common enough sight in China. Terrible as is the affliction, - the Chinese, by their insanitary habits, more or less manufacture their - blind. The cult of the bath is not theirs yet, they live, apparently - happily, amongst filthy surroundings, they neglect the eyes of the - new-born child, they suffer from smallpox, and ophthalmia, and the barber - with his infected razor shaves, not only close round the outside, but with - the laudable intention of making all clean and neat, as far down as he can - get round the delicate inside of the eyelid. The result one may see any - day in the streets of Peking, or any Chinese town. A beggar in China is - always a horrible-looking object. He belongs to a guild. His intention is - to attract pity, and it would seem to him going the wrong way about it, to - begin by being neat and clean. Besides, though many people <span - class="pagenum">131</span><a name="link131" id="link131"></a>in China are - neat, I suspect very few of them are what we arrogant Westerners would - describe as clean, and among a dirty people, the blind beggar stands out, - pre-eminent, as the filthiest creature I have ever seen. On the roadside, - again and again in a country place where many people are passing, I have - seen a half-naked man, who looked as if he had never since his birth even - looked at water, clad, or rather half-clad, in filthy rags with raw red - sores where his eyes should have been. He was so horrible, so ghastly a - specimen of humanity that he seemed almost beyond pity. And yet a blind - person always receives a certain amount of respect and consideration from - the Chinese, even from the poorest Chinese. Never in his hearing would the - roughest rickshaw coolie call him “Hsia Tze” that is “Blind - man.” That would be discourteous. Though he be only a beggar, - forlorn, hungry, unkempt, he is still addressed by all passers as “Hsien - Sheng,” “Before Born,” a title of respect that is given - to teachers, doctors, and men of superior rank and age. - </p> - <p> - Hard though, in spite of the respect that is paid them, must be the lot of - those who are handicapped by the loss of sight. It is hard in any land, - but in China, where even among those in full possession of their senses, - there are hundreds of thousands just on the verge of starvation, the touch - needed to send a man over the brink is very, very slight indeed. Not even - the close family ties of the Chinese can help them much, for where the - strongest suffer, the weak must go to the wall. And there are very few - crafts open to the blind man. He may be a storyteller, or a - fortune-teller, or a musician, I cannot <span class="pagenum">132</span><a - name="link132" id="link132"></a>imagine what he would do if his talents - did not run in those lines, and even then he is dependent upon the doles - of a people who have very, very little to give away, and naturally guard - that little carefully. Once blind there is nothing more to be done. The - beautiful blue sky of China, the golden sunshine have gone, and in its - place there is the darkness, warm sometimes, bitter cold sometimes, the - enveloping darkness that means for so many helplessness and starvation, - often at the very best semi-starvation, borne with the uncomplaining - stoicism of the Chinese. - </p> - <p> - Now once upon a time a man stood upon the Beggars' Bridge in Peking, - outside the walls of the Tartar City, selling Bibles, and noticed as - everyone must do, the number of blind who passed by. Was there none to - pity, asked the Rev. Hill Murray, none among all those who had devoted - their lives to bringing the Gospel to the heathen to help? - </p> - <p> - “What?” said some. “When you know that already the - Chinese declare we missionaries take the children for the sake of making - medicine of their eyes, will you give colour to the accusation by setting - up a mission to the blind?” And then, when he still persisted, - “They need us, they need us,” they said: “Since you are - so keen, why don't you do it yourself?” - </p> - <p> - To him it was “The Message.” Why should he not do it himself? - And there and then he set to work. It was years ago. What the cost, what - the struggle, I do not know. I only know that one sunny April day - wandering round Peking in a hu t'ung in the east of the Tartar City - I came upon the house, or rather, for it is all done Chinese fashion, - <span class="pagenum">133</span><a name="link133" id="link133"></a>the - nest of little houses with their courtyards and little gardens, that is - the Mission to the Blind. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0204.jpg" alt="0204 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0204.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The Rev. Hill Murray is gone to his rest, but his wife and daughters keep - up the Mission, waiting for the time when his young son, away in England - training, shall be ready to take his place. Fifty pupils, boys and girls, - the missionaries send in from the various stations, and here they are - taught, taught to read and write according to the Braille system, taught - to play musical instruments, and prepared for being preachers, which of - course the missionaries consider the most important avocation of all. I, - in my turn, am only concerned that the unfortunate should be happy, or as - happy as he can be under the circumstances, and I should think that the - preacher, the man who feels himself of some importance in spite of his - affliction, competent to instruct his fellows in what, to him, is a matter - of deep moment, has possibly the best chance of happiness. The girls are - taught much the same as the boys, and in addition to knit, and such - household work as they are capable of. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to me sad, when I went there one bright sunny morning, that - these young things should be for ever in the dark, but I am bound to say - it was only my thoughts that were sad. The girls came laughing into the - front courtyard with their knitting in their hands to see—see, save - the mark!—the stranger, and have their photographs taken. The sun, - the golden sun of April, streamed down on the stone-paved courtyard, all - the plants in pots were in bloom, and the girls, dressed in Chinese - fashion, made deep obeisance in the direction they were told I was. All - around were the quaint roofs, dainty <span class="pagenum">134</span><a - name="link134" id="link134"></a>lattice-work windows, and Eastern - surroundings of a Chinese house, and the girls were grave at first, - because they were being introduced to an older woman, and one whom they - thought was their superior, therefore they thought it was not fitting they - should laugh and talk, but when I remarked on their gravity, Miss Murray, - shepherding them, laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Oh they are very happy. They don't feel their lot, not yet at - any rate. They are proud because they have learned so much. They can read - and write, they can knit, and they have learned geography.” - </p> - <p> - Geography seemed a great asset, and presently, they, when they knew they - might, were laughing and talking, and saying how proud they were to have - their photographs taken. They sat there knitting, and even while they - talked, did exactly what they were told, for like all Chinese, they have a - great sense of the fitting. On one occasion a friend brought in a - gramophone and set it going for their amusement. - </p> - <p> - “I could have shaken them all,” said Miss Murray, “they - received the funniest sallies in solemn silence,” and when the - entertainer was gone, she reproached them, “You never even smiled.” - </p> - <p> - A dozen eager voices responded. “Oh but it was so hard not to laugh. - We wanted to so much, but we thought it would not be right. It was so - hard.” - </p> - <p> - The lot of all women in China is hard; doubly hard, it seemed to me, must - the lot of these poor little girls be, cut off from the only hope of - happiness a Chinese woman has, the chance of bearing a son. <span - class="pagenum">135</span><a name="link135" id="link135"></a>"And they can - never marry,” I said sorrowfully to Miss Murray. - </p> - <p> - There came a smile into her bright young eyes. “Oh, I don't - know. Some of them may. They are so very well-educated, and the Chinese - admire education, and in a Chinese household, where there are so many - people to do the work, a blind wife would not be so useless. Only the - other day we heard of the marriage of one of our girls.” - </p> - <p> - And I looked at them again with other eyes, and hoped there were many - households that would like a wife for their son who knew geography. - </p> - <p> - We went from the outer to the inner courtyard, a rock garden where, in - true Chinese fashion, are set out plants and rockeries, a little winding - river with a stone bridge across it, a miniature lake—there is no - water in it now—and many creeping plants hiding the stones. It is a - charming spot, but naturally the blind are not allowed to go there by - themselves. It is too dangerous. However, on one occasion, one curious - little boy objected to these restrictions, and went on an exploring - expedition on his own account. Groping about in the darkness, he fell into - the river, which has steep cement sides, and out of that he could not get. - You would think that he would have yelled lustily to call attention to his - predicament, but that is not the Chinese way. He had disobeyed, Fate was - against him, and he must suffer, and there he lay the livelong day without - a murmur, and not till they called the roll in the evening, was his - absence discovered, and a search for him instituted. Even that lesson was - not sufficient, for once again he was missing, and once again he was - discovered fallen into one of the many traps of the rock garden. <span - class="pagenum">136</span><a name="link136" id="link136"></a>It was - unexplored country to him, and he was willing to risk much to see what it - was like. - </p> - <p> - In the parts of the house with which they are familiar they can all run - about, up and down steps, and in and out of courtyards and down passages - as easily as people with sight. The boys came out of their class-rooms - where they learn to read, and write, and sing, and play the harmonium, and - raced about much as other boys in other lands would do. - </p> - <p> - They have two meals a day—one in the morning and one at four o'clock - in the afternoon, and as much tea and bread at other times as they care to - have. Mrs Murray apologised for the dampness of the stones of the - dining-room floor. It is a Chinese house, and stone floors are not a sign - of poverty. These stones are damp because at twelve o'clock the boys - come and pour themselves out cups of tea, and naturally they make a mess. - The cook is busy, he cannot be with them always. For this charity is run - on very simple lines, and the people who see are very few. There is the - cook and the house-coolie, a woman for the girls, a doorkeeper, frail and - old, he may be seen standing just outside the door in the picture of the - hu t'ung, and a couple of men who attend to the making of the - Braille books, for their making and binding requires the attention of - someone with sight. But with these exceptions, the blind have it all to - themselves; they learn, and they play, and they eat by themselves. - </p> - <p> - In one of the pictures I have taken, the boys have come out of school and - are playing cat and mouse. All join hands in a circle, and one boy - creeping in and out softly is chased by another. How they manage it in - their darkness I don't know, but they <span class="pagenum">137</span><a - name="link137" id="link137"></a>chattered, and laughed, and shouted - happily though what they said of course I did not know. They are all, boys - and girls alike, dressed in the ordinary blue cotton of the country; the - boys had their hair cut short, for nowadays the queue, that most curious - of fashions in the dressing of hair, is going out. The girls were also - dressed like the peasants, with their trousers neatly drawn in at the - ankles and their smooth, straight hair drawn back and plaited in a tail - down the back, much like an English schoolgirl; the little ones though, - have their heads shaven in front, very ugly, but in conformation with - Chinese custom, which always shaves part at least of the little one's - head. - </p> - <p> - In the courtyard where the boys were playing, was a rocking-horse, a - dilapidated and battered toy without either tail, or mane, or eyes. And - this toy is pathetic, when you know its history. It was bought with the - pennies saved by Mr Hill Murray's children. They, too, out of their - small store, wanted to do something for the blind; and the blind children, - immediately it came into their possession, took out its eyes. They were - not going to have the rocking-horse spying on them when they could not see - themselves. - </p> - <p> - They all wisely live in native fashion. Their food is the food of the - well-to-do lower classes, plenty of bread, steamed instead of being baked, - and plenty of vegetables and soup, with just a little meat in it; the food - to which they have been accustomed, and which they like best. Their beds, - I have tried to depict one, are just the ordinary k'ang, a stone - platform to hold three in summer, and five in winter. Under it is a small - fireplace where a fire can be built <span class="pagenum">138</span><a - name="link138_rdquo_________id_" id="link138_rdquo_________id_"></a>to - warm it, above, it is covered with matting, and each boy spreads his own - bed of quilted cotton, which is rolled up in the daytime. - </p> - <p> - I would have thought that the Mission to the Blind was so good and great a - thing that it could rouse no bitter feelings in any breast. It has for its - object the succouring of those whom the Chinese themselves treat with - great respect, yet so fanatical was the Boxer outbreak, that in the hu t'ung - outside the Mission, forty of the pupils and their teachers, helpless in - their affliction, were done to death by those who would have none of the - Westerner and his works, even though those works were works of mercy. - </p> - <p> - More often, perhaps, in China than anywhere in the world where I have - been, am I reminded of the passage in Holy Writ that tells how as the Man - of Pity came nigh unto Jericho a certain blind man sat by the wayside - begging. And, hearing the multitude pass by, he asked what it meant, and - they told him, “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” We may not give - sight to the blind nowadays, but if we walk in the streets of Peking, and - then turn in to the Mission to the Blind with its kindly care for the - helpless, and its brightening of darkened lives, we know that that man who - stood on the Beggars' Bridge pitied, as his Master had pitied before - him. All that he could do he has done, and those who have come after him - have followed faithfully in his footsteps, can any man do more? I think - not. Truly I think not. - </p> - <p> - “What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?” asked the Lord of - the World of the blind beggar. - </p> - <p> - And he said, “Lord that I may receive my sight.” - </p> - <p> - Those who charge themselves with the care of the <span class="pagenum">139</span><a - name="link139" id="link139"></a>blind may not give so royally now. Theirs - is the harder part, they tend and care with unfailing patience, untiring - diligence, and then they stand, and wait. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0212.jpg" alt="0212 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0212.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - I was so lost in my admiration for the Mission to the Blind, that I began - to think and to say, that missionary enterprise, which I had always - thought should turn its attention to its own people, was at least - justified in this land of China, where no provision was made for the sick - and afflicted, and where charity was unknown. I said it very often, and - every foreigner approved, until at last, there came one or two who - promptly showed me the utter folly of drawing deductions when I didn't - know anything about the facts. - </p> - <p> - The foreigner in China is divided into two camps. He is either missionary - or he is anti-missionary. Both sides are keen on the matter. And, of - course, there are always two sides to every question, as the little girl - saw whose sympathies went out to the poor lion, who hadn't got a - Christian. - </p> - <p> - China needs medical missionaries, needs them as badly as the city slums of - London or New York; and China is going to get them, for there are - thousands of people who think a deal more of the state of the soul of the - materialistic Chinaman than they do of the starving bodies, and more than - starved intellects of the slum children of a Christian land. Formerly the - missionary had a worse time than he has now. He came among a people who - despised him, and more than once he suffered martyrdom, and even when - there was no question of martyrdom, some of the regulations he submitted - to must have been unpleasant. Unwisely I think, for you can <span - class="pagenum">140</span><a name="link140" id="link140"></a>never make a - European look like a Chinaman, the powers that ran the missionary - societies, decided that the missionary must wear Chinese dress, even to - the shaven head and the queue behind. A hatchet-faced Scot with a fiery - red pigtail, they say was an awesome sight, certainly calculated to - impress the Celestial, though whether in the way the newcomer intended I - should not like to say. The growing of a proper queue was, of course, a - question of months, and the majority of missionaries began their career - with a false one. A story is told of one luckless young man in Shanghai - who lost his, and went about his business for some little time unaware of - the fact. When he did discover his loss he went back on his tracks, - searching for it at all the places he had visited. At last he arrived at - the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, and there, pinned high on the wall, was - his missing property, and attached to it by some facetious clerk was the - legend in great letters that all might read: “Deposits of one tael - not accepted here!” For the benefit of the uninitiated, one tael is - a sum of money, varying with the price of silver, from half-a-crown to - three shillings. - </p> - <p> - But those days are gone by. Nowadays missionary societies are wiser, and - the medical missionaries are pleasant, cheerful, hard-working men and - women doing an immense amount of good among the suffering poor, so kindly, - so thoughtful are they that I grudge their services to the heathen when I - think how many of the children, aye and those who are not children, in the - mean streets of the great cities of the West need their services. They - trouble themselves about the souls of the people too, and the example of - kindly lives must be good. Again I grudge it all to <span class="pagenum">141</span><a - name="link141" id="link141"></a>the Oriental, though I have come to - realise that there are many ways of doing good in the world. I do - occasionally feel that the missionaries are a little too strenuous in - inculcating prayer and praise, and exhorting to a virtue that is a little - beyond the average mortal. The caring for both bodies and souls can - certainly be overdone. However I dare say it all works right in the end, - and I, who do nothing, should be the last to judge. Still sometimes I - could not but remember the picture of the two babies discussing the - situation, the fat, plump baby, and the thin, miserable, scrawny one. - </p> - <p> - Said the thin baby: “How do you manage to keep so fat? My milk's - sterilised, and the milkman's sterilised, and even the cart's - sterilised, and yet look at me,” and he stretched out his thin, - starved hands. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, so's mine,” said the fat baby serenely, “but, - when no one's looking, I climb down and get a chew at the corner of - the floor-rug, and get enough bacteria to keep a decent life in me!” - </p> - <p> - Listening to the talk of the missionaries, hearing of the foolishness of - smoking, the wickedness of alcoholic drinks, and various forms of - sinfulness, I have rather hoped, and more than suspected, that the - converts sometimes got down and had a chew at the corner of the floor-rug - when no one was looking. - </p> - <p> - Not that many of the missionaries don't endeavour to live up to - their own moral code, many of them do, and many of them lead lives of - abnegation and self-denial. We all know that the missionary of the Church - of Rome gives up everything, and expects never again to see his country - once he enters the mission-field, and many of the China Inland - Missionaries, <span class="pagenum">142</span><a name="link142" - id="link142"></a>except in the matter of celibacy, run them close. Their - pay is very, very small, no holidays can be counted upon, and their lives - are isolated and lonely. Even the American missionary, who is far better - paid, gives up his own individuality. The ministers earn more, I believe, - than they would in their own country, because people give gladly to - missions, while at home the minister's salary is often a burning - question. “Far fields are ever fair,” but a clever surgeon who - is kept hard at it from dawn to dark, once the Chinese appreciate him, - certainly receives far less than he could earn working for himself. He is - given a comfortable home, he may marry and have children without a qualm, - for, for every child twenty pounds a year is allowed till he is of age; - the societies see to it that a six weeks' holiday is given every - year, and a year's furlough every seven years with passage paid home - for wife and children. No business firm could afford to make more - comfortable provision for its employees. - </p> - <p> - In China, service is cheap and good, the food and the cooks both - excellent, and the climate, at least in the north, exhilarating and - delightful. But the missionaries do their duty, and do it well, and they - are pioneers of Western civilisation. In their wake comes trade, though - that is the last thing the majority of them think about. The only trouble - for the American missionary seems to me the danger that hangs over every - dweller in China—a danger they share with every other foreign - resident. It is hard to think of danger when one looks at the courteous, - subservient Chinese, but Sir Robert Hart put it succinctly: “Anything - may happen at any time in China.” And for all the New Republic, - <span class="pagenum">143</span><a name="link143" id="link143"></a>and for - all the fair promise, his words are still worthy of attention. - </p> - <p> - “Do you really think,” said R. F. Johnston, the well-known - writer on things Chinese, “that the Chinese knew nothing about - charity till it was preached to them by Christian missionaries?” - </p> - <p> - I intimated that such had been my faith. - </p> - <p> - “The Chinese,” said he, a little indignantly, “are one - of the most charitable peoples on earth.” - </p> - <p> - And then he told me what I, a stranger and ignorant of the language, might - have gone years without learning. To begin with, family ties are far - stronger in China than in European countries, and a man feels himself - bound to help his helpless relatives in a way that would seem absurd to - the average Christian, and in addition there are numerous societies for - helping those, who, by some mischance, have no one upon whom they can - depend. There are societies for succouring the sick, societies for looking - after orphans, and other kindly institutions. There are even societies for - paying poor folks' fares across ferries! There certainly are a good - many rivers in China, but this society I must admit strikes me as a work - of supererogation. I don't think much merit can really attach to the - subscribers, for the majority of poor folks I have seen would be so much - better for walking through the river, clothes and all. - </p> - <p> - However, we have a good few foolish charities of our own, and even if the - Chinese charities do not cover all the ground, we must remember that China - is, in so many things, archaic; and these charities run on archaic lines - are naturally shocking to men steeped in the sanitary lore of the West, - <span class="pagenum">144</span><a name="link144" id="link144"></a>We have - only to read the novels of Charles Dickens and Charlotte Brontë to see a - few flaws in the way the charities of the Early Victorian era were - administered; what would we think if we could take a peep into - thetlazar-house of the Middle Ages—yet there were kind hearts, I - doubt not, in the Middle Ages—and China, with her overflowing - population, is yet in the matter of charity where we were some time about - the reign of the seventh Henry. Could we expect much? - </p> - <p> - “Would you like to see a Buddhist Orphanage?” asked Mr - Johnston. - </p> - <p> - I said I would, and he promised to take me to one they were trying to run - on Western lines. - </p> - <p> - It was a pleasantly warm Sunday, with a wind blowing that lifted the - filthy dust of Peking from the roadways, and flung it in our faces. We - interviewed first two rickshaw coolies with a view to ascertaining whether - they; knew where we wanted to go, or rather he interviewed them, for I - have no Chinese. They swore they did, by all their gods. Still he looked - doubtful. - </p> - <p> - “Why don't you take them?” said I, feeling mistakenly - that nowhere else in the town could the dust and the wind be quite so bad - as just outside the Wagons Lits Hotel. - </p> - <p> - “Because I want to find out if they really know where we want to go. - They always swear they do, for fear of losing the job.” - </p> - <p> - However, at last we set out with rickshaw coolies who seemed to have a - working knowledge of the route we wished to follow, and we went through - the Chien Men into the Chinese City, and away to the west through a maze - of narrow alley-ways, hung <span class="pagenum">145</span><a - name="link145" id="link145"></a>with long Chinese signs, past the closely - packed, one-storied shops where they sold china and earthenware, cotton - goods and food-stuffs, lanterns, and rows of uninteresting Chinese shoes. - The streets of course were thronged. There were rickshaws, laden donkeys, - broughams with Venetian shutters to shut out the glare, the clanging bell - and outrider to tell that some important man was passing, mules, camels, - men on foot with or without burdens, with bamboos across their shoulders - and loads slung from them, and some few women tottering along on maimed - feet. And every man was giving his opinion on things in general to the - universe at the top of his voice. - </p> - <p> - “How I wish I could understand what they were saying,” I said - to my companion once, when the exigencies of the way brought our rickshaws - side by side. - </p> - <p> - He laughed. “Sometimes it's as well you shouldn't.” - And then he corrected himself lest I should have got a wrong impression. - “No, on the whole they are very polite to each other.” - </p> - <p> - Once we came upon a man with a packet of papers in his hand. He was - standing upon something to raise him a little above the passing crowd, and - distributing the papers not to everyone, but apparently with great - discrimination. Both of us were deemed worthy of a sheet, and I wondered - what on earth the hieroglyphics could mean. It was an invitation to a - funeral, my cicerone informed me, the next time we were in speaking - distance. Some woman, who had been working for a broader education for - women, had died, and her friends were going to mark their appreciation of - her labours by <span class="pagenum">146</span><a - name="link146_rdquo_________id_" id="link146_rdquo_________id_"></a>a - suitable funeral. So is the change coming to China. - </p> - <p> - As we went on the houses grew fewer, there were open spaces where kaoliang - and millet were being reaped, for this, my second charity, I visited in - September, the grey walls of the city rose up before us, and still there - was no sign of the monastery. Our men were panting, the sweat was running - down their faces and staining their thin coats, still they dragged us on, - never dreaming; of using the tongues Nature had given them to lighten - their labours. To ask the way would have been to show the foreigner in the - rickshaw that they had not known it in the first instance, and that would - be to lose face. - </p> - <p> - But one of the foreigners had grasped that already, and he insisted on the - necessary inquiries being made, and presently we had gone back on our - tracks and were at the monastery, being received by the abbot who had - charge of it, and a tall Chinese, who spoke German, and was deeply - interested in the Orphanage. - </p> - <p> - It was the great day of the year, for they were having their annual - sports. Over the entrance gateway was a magnificent decoration to mark the - event. The place was built Chinese fashion, with many courtyards and - low-roofed houses round them, and we were led from one courtyard to - another until at last we arrived at a large courtyard, or rather - playground. Here were the monks and their charges, and a certain number of - spectators who had been invited to see the show, all men, for men and - women do not mingle in China, and the next day the entertainment would be - repeated with women only as spectators. I received a warm <span - class="pagenum">147</span><a name="link147" id="link147"></a>invitation to - come again, but I felt that once would be enough. We sat down on a bench - with a table in front of us, a boy was told off to keep us supplied with - tea, and I had leisure to look around me and see what manner of people - were these among whom I had come. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0026" id="linkimage-0026"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0222.jpg" alt="0222 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0222.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0223.jpg" alt="0223 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0223.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - There are thirty monks here, and they have charge of two hundred and fifty - orphans whom they teach to read and write, and all the useful trades, give - them, in fact, a good start in the world, and the best of chances to earn - their own living. The bright sunshine was everywhere, the walls in a - measure shut out the wind and the dust, and the sports were in full swing. - At the upper end of the ground, in a room overlooking the play, sat the - abbot and some of his subordinates. They wore loose gowns of some dark - material girt in at the waist, their only ornament, if ornament it could - be called, was a rosary, and head and face were absolutely bare of hair. - The abbot from a neighbouring monastery was introduced to me too, a man - with a pleasant, thoughtful, cultured face and the most beautiful - milk-white teeth. I was sorry I could not speak to that man. I felt - somehow as if we might have met on a plane where nationalities and race - count for little; but that would have been due to his culture and - broadmindedness, not to mine. - </p> - <p> - Then there were the orphans. They were fat, well-fed looking little chaps - dressed in unbleached calico trousers, and coats of the very brightest - blue I have ever seen. Each wore on his breast, as a mark of the festive - occasion, a bright pink carnation, and every head was shaven as bare as a - billiard ball. They looked happy and well, but to my Western <span - class="pagenum">148</span><a name="link148" id="link148"></a>eyes that - last sanitary precaution, as I suppose it was, spoiled any claim they had - to good looks. They ran races, they jumped about in sacks, they picked up - hoops, they stood in clusters of six and sang in shrill young voices, - weird and haunting songs that I was told were patriotic and full of hope - for China. The three first in the races had their names proclaimed in - black characters on white flags that were carried round the grounds, and - there and then received their prizes, a handkerchief or some such trifle. - </p> - <p> - It was interesting not so much for the sports themselves, those may be - better seen in any well-regulated boys' school, but because this is - the first time such efforts have been made in China, and made by the - Chinese themselves. That a man should take any violent exercise, unless he - were absolutely obliged, that he should have any ideal beyond looking fat, - and sleek, and well-fed, is entirely contrary to all received Chinese - ideas, and must mark a great step in their advancement. - </p> - <p> - And then they brought me the youngest orphan, a wee, fat boy of eight, and - though he looked well, he seemed much younger. Probably he was. As I - understand it, the Chinese counts himself a year old in the year he is - born, and the first New Year's day adds another year to his life, so - that the child born on the last day of the old year, would on New Year's - Day, be two years old! There is something very lovable about a small - child, and there was about this little smiling chap, though he was - unbecomingly dressed in coat and trousers of unbleached calico, and his - head was shaven bare. He held out his hand to me when he was told, bowed - low when <span class="pagenum">149</span><a name="link149" id="link149"></a>I - gave him a little piece, a very little piece, of money, and then trotted - across the grounds to where a young monk was looking on at the show. He - caught hold of the monk's robe, and nestled against him, and the man - put down a tender hand and caressed him. No child of his own, by his vows, - would he ever have, but he was a tender father to this little lonely waif. - A waif? He was well-fed, he was suitably clad, and here I saw with my own - eyes he had tenderness, could any child have had more? Could men do more? - And again I say, as I said when I looked at the Mission to the Blind, I - think not. Very surely I think not. At least one of these monks was giving - what no Westerner could possibly give to a child of an alien race, that - tenderness that softens and smooths life. “They brought young - children to Him, that He should touch them... and He took them up in His - arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them.” - </p> - <p> - These monks profess a faith that was old when Christianity was born, but - they are carrying out as faithfully as ever did any follower of Christ His - behests. What matter the creed? What matter by what name we call it? Away - in this old Eastern city here, they are preaching, in deeds, the gospel of - love and kindness, and no man can do more. - </p> - <p> - We are apt to think that charity and pity are attributes of the Christian - faith only but that is to insult the many good and holy men of other - faiths. I am not scorning the kindness and self-sacrifice of the Christian - missionary, but it is better, where it is possible, that charity and pity - for the Chinese should come from those of their own race. For, however - tender and kind an alien may be, he still <span class="pagenum">150</span><a - name="link150" id="link150"></a>stands outside, and the recipient to a - certain extent is necessarily alone. Therefore am I doubly grateful to Mr - Johnston for taking me to this Orphanage, where I could see how good the - Chinese could be to the waifs and strays of their own people. - </p> - <p> - Pity and mercy belong not to the Western nations alone. They come from the - Most High, and are common to all His people, Christian missionary selling - Bibles, and pitying the blind upon the Beggars' Bridge, or Buddhist - monk taking to his heart the little forsaken child in the monastery of an - older faith in the Chinese City. For such love as that we find in the - world we, who look on, can only bow our heads and give thanks. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—A CHINESE INN - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">151</span><a name="link151" id="link151"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The start for Jehol—Tuan—A Peking cart—Chinese roads—A - great highway—Chances of camping out—“Room for ten - thousand merchant guests”—Human occupancy—Dust of ages—Eyes - at the window—Catering for the journey—The Chinese chicken, - minced.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here were two - places that I particularly wanted to go to when I could make up my mind to - tear myself away from the charms of Peking. One was the Tungling, or - Eastern Tombs, the tombs where the great Empress-Dowager and most of the - Manchu Emperors were buried, and Jehol, the Hunting Palace of the Manchus, - away to the north in Inner Mongolia, or on the outermost edge of the - Province of Chihli, for boundaries are vague things in that out-of-the-way - part of the world. I wondered if I could combine them both if instead of - coming back to Peking after visiting the tombs I might make my way over - the mountains to Jehol. With that end in view I instituted inquiries, only - to find that while many people knew a man, or had heard of several men who - had been, I never struck the knowledgeable man himself. The only thing was - to start out on my own account, and I knew then I should soon arrive at - the difficulties to be overcome, not the least of them was two hundred - <span class="pagenum">152</span><a name="link152" id="link152"></a>and - eighty miles in a Peking cart. The only drawback to that arrangement was - that if I didn't like the difficulties when I did meet them, there - could be no drawing back. They would have to be faced. - </p> - <p> - Accordingly I engaged a servant with a rudimentary knowledge of English. - When the matter we spoke of was of no importance, such as my dinner, I - could generally understand him, when it was of importance, such as the - difficulties of the way, I could not, but I guessed, or the events - themselves as they unfolded became explanatory. This gentleman was a small - person with noble views on the subject of squeeze, as it pertained to - Missie's servant, and he wore on state occasions a long black coat - of brocaded silk, slit at the sides, and on all occasions the short hairs - that fringed the shaven front of his head stood up like a black horsehair - halo. He was badly pock-marked, very cheerful, and an excellent servant, - engineering me over difficulties so well that I had to forgive him the - squeeze, though in small matters I was occasionally made aware I was - paying not double the price, but seven times what it ought to have been. - However one buys one's experience. He was my first servant and I - paid him thirty dollars a month, so I was squeezed on that basis. A six - months' stay in China convinced me I could get as good a servant for - fifteen dollars a month, and feel he was well paid. - </p> - <p> - His name was Tuan, pronounced as if it began with a “D,” and - he engaged for me two Peking carts with a driver each, and two mules - apiece. One was for myself and some of my luggage, the other took <span - class="pagenum">153</span><a name="link153" id="link153"></a>my servant, - my humble kitchen utensils, and the rest of my baggage; and one Sunday - morning in May, it is hardly necessary to say it was sunny, because a dull - morning in May in Northern China is an exception hailed with joy, the - carts appeared at the door of the “Wagons Lits,” and we were - ready to start. At least everything was ready but me. I ached in every - limb, and felt sure that I was just beginning an attack of influenza. What - was to be done? I longed with a great longing for my peaceful bed. I did - not want to go venturing forth into the, to me, unknown wilds of China, - but I had engaged those carts at the rate of seven dollars a day for the - two, and I felt that I really could not afford to linger. Possibly the - fresh air might do me good. At any rate, I reflected thankfully, as I - climbed into the foremost cart, no active exertion was required of me. And - that only shows how remarkably little I knew about a Peking cart. A man - and a girl of my acquaintance rose up early in the morning to accompany me - the first ten miles on donkeys, we had tiffin together beneath the shade - of some pine-trees in a graveyard, and then they wished me good-bye, and I - started off with the comfortable feeling that arises from the parting good - wishes of kind friends. - </p> - <p> - Now a Peking cart is a very venerable mode of progression. When our - ancestors were lightly dressed in woad, and had no conception of any - wheeled vehicle, the Chinese lady was paying her calls sitting in the back - of a Peking cart, the seat of honour under the tilt, well out of the sight - of the passers-by, while-her servant sat in front, the place of comfort, - if such a word can be applied to anything <span class="pagenum">154</span><a - name="link154" id="link154"></a>pertaining to a Peking cart, for in spite - of its long and aristocratic record if there is any mode of progression - more wearying and uncomfortable I have not met it. It is simply a - springless board set on a couple of wheels with a wagon tilt of blue - cotton, if you are not imperial, over it, and a place for heavy luggage - behind. The Chinaman sits on the floor and does not seem to mind, but the - ordinary Westerner, such as I am, packs his bedding and all the cushions - he can raise around him, and then resigns himself to his fate. It has one - advantage people will tell you, it has nothing to break in it, but there - are moments when it would be a mighty relief if something did break, for - if the woodwork holds together, as it tosses you from side to side, you - yourself are one sore, bruised mass. No, I cannot recommend a Peking cart, - even on the smoothest road. - </p> - <p> - And the roads in China are not smooth. We all know the description of the - snakes in Ireland, “There are no snakes,” and if in the same - manner could be described the roads in China, blessed would the roads in - China be, but as China is a densely populated country there are so-called - roads, upon which the people move about, but I have seldom met one that - was any better than the surrounding country, and very, very often on this - journey did I meet roads where it was ease and luxury to move off them on - to the neighbouring ploughed field. The receipt for a road there in the - north seems to be: Take a piece of the country that is really too bad to - plough or to use for any agricultural purposes whatever, that a mountain - torrent, in fact, has given up as too much for the water, <span - class="pagenum">155</span><a name="link155" id="link155"></a>upset a stone - wall over it, a stone wall with good large stones in it, take care they - never for a moment lie evenly, and you have your road. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> </a> - </p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0233.jpg" alt="0233 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0233.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - - <p> - Leaving Peking for the Eastern Tombs you go for the first two or three - hours along a paved way of magnificent proportions, planned and laid out - as a great highway should be. The great stones with which it is paved were - probably put there by slave labour, how many hundred years ago I do not - know, but the blocks are uneven now, some of them are gone altogether, - though how a huge block of stone could possibly disappear passes my - understanding, and whenever the carter could, he took the cart down beside - the road, where at least the dust made a cushion for the nail-studded - wheels, and the jarring and the jolting were not quite so terrible. - </p> - <p> - It takes as long to get beyond the environs of Peking in a cart as it does - to get out of London in a motor-car. First we passed through the - Babylonish gate, and the great walls were behind us, then, outside the - city, all looking dusty, dirty, and khaki-coloured in the brilliant - sunshine, were numerous small houses, and the wayside was lined with - booths on which were things for sale, green vegetables and salads looking - inviting, if I could have forgotten the danger of enteric, - unappetising-looking meat, bones, the backbones of sheep from which all - flesh had been taken, eggs, piles of cakes and small pies, shoes, clothes, - samovars, everything a poor man in a primitive community can possibly - require, and along the roadway came an endless array of people, clad for - the most part in blue cotton, men walking, men with loads slung from a - <span class="pagenum">156</span><a name="link156" id="link156"></a>bamboo - across their shoulders, donkeys laden with baskets, with sacks of grain, - with fat Chinese on their backs, with small-footed women being transported - from one place to another; there were Peking carts, there were mules, - there were ponies; and this busy throng is almost the same as it was a - couple of thousand years ago. I wondered; could I have taken a peep at the - outskirts of London in the days of Elizabeth of happy memory, would it not - have been like this? But no. The sky here is bright and clear, the - sunshine hot, and the faces of the moving crowd are yellow and oriental. - This crowd is like the men who toiled round the quarries of Babylon or - Nineveh, and it is perhaps more satisfied with itself and its position in - the universe than any like company of people anywhere in the world. That - impression was forced upon me as I stayed in Peking, it grew and grew as I - got farther away from the great city, and out into the country. - </p> - <p> - But it was a long, long while before I could feel I was really in the - country. There was the khaki-coloured land, there were the khaki-coloured - houses built of mud apparently, with graceful, tiled roofs, and blue-clad - people everywhere, and everywhere at work. Always the fields were most - beautifully tilled, there were no fences, the Chinese is too civilised to - need a fence, and when you see stone walls it is only because, since they - can't be dropped off the planet into space, the stones must be - disposed of somehow, here and there the kaoliang was coming up like young - wheat, in vivid green patches that were a relief from the general dust, - and occasionally there were trees, willow or poplar or fir, delightful to - look upon, that marked a graveyard, <span class="pagenum">157</span><a - name="link157" id="link157"></a>and then, just as I was beginning to hope - I was out in the country, a walled town would loom up. - </p> - <p> - And in the dusk of the evening we stopped and met for the first time the - discomforts of a Chinese inn. - </p> - <p> - We had started rather late, and I had spent so much time bidding farewell - to my friends, that we did not reach the town we had intended to, but put - up at a small inn in a small hamlet. This, my first inn was, like most - Chinese inns, a line of one-storied buildings, built round the four sides - of a large courtyard. Mixed up with the rooms were the stalls for the - beasts, the mules and the little grey donkeys, with an occasional pony or - two, and the courtyard was dotted with stone or wooden mangers. In the - pleasant May weather there was no need to put all the beasts under cover, - and there were so many travellers there was not room in the stalls for all - the beasts. - </p> - <p> - It was all wonderfully Eastern. I remembered, I could not but remember, - how once there arrived at such an inn a little company, weary and tired, - and “so it was, that while they were there, the days were - accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her - first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a - manger: because there was no room for them in the inn.” - </p> - <p> - I thought of that little company as the Peking cart jolted over the step - that is on the threshold of all Chinese doors—no one considers - comfort in China, what is a jolt more or less, a Peking cart will not - break—and I found myself in the courtyard, and a trestle was brought - for me to get down from <span class="pagenum">158</span><a - name="link158_rdquo_________id_" id="link158_rdquo_________id_"></a>the - cart. I might have jumped, I suppose, but one hundred li, about thirty - miles, had left me stiff and aching in every limb. My head ached too with - the influenza, and when I inspected the room offered for my accommodation, - I only wished drearily that there had been no room in this particular inn, - and that I might have slept out in the open. - </p> - <p> - But that first day as I went across the plain, that while there were no - hills upon it rose slowly towards the hills, I realised that in China, - there is not the charm of the open road, you may not sleep under the sky, - you must put up at an inn, you would as soon think of camping out in one - of the suburbs of London. Indeed you might easily find more suitable - places for camping about Surbiton or Richmond than you would among the - sterile hills or cultivated valley bottoms of Northern China. I hoped - against hope for three days. I had a comfortable sleeping-bag and the - nights were fine, it seemed it would be so simple a thing to camp a little - off the roadside, even though I had no tent, and that first night, when I - smelled the smell of the rooms, rank and abominable, and reeking of human - occupancy, I envied my mules, and said that as I got farther into the - country I could certainly sleep outside. - </p> - <p> - “Room for ten thousand merchant guests,” said the innkeeper in - characters of black on red paper over his door, and unless those merchants - were very small indeed, I am sure I don't know where he proposed to - put them. I remembered with a shudder, that one man of my acquaintance had - said: “What I cannot stand is the perpetual tramp, <span - class="pagenum">159</span><a name="link159" id="link159"></a>tramp, all - night,” and I had my suspicions that the guests were small on this - occasion, and I feared lest they were going to be catered for. There were - also notices in the effective red and black that the landlord would not be - responsible for any valuables not confided to his care, and exhorting the - guests to be careful of fire. And it seemed to me, as I looked at the - rotting thatch and the dubious grey walls, that a fire in this inn would - be the very best thing that could happen to it. You see I was specially - particular this first night. I thought the next inn might be better. I had - a good deal to learn. “The tiger from the Eastern Hills and the - tiger from the Western Hills,” says the Chinese proverb, “are - both the same.” So everywhere a Chinese inn is about as bad as it - can be. They are mostly used by carters, and well-to-do people always go - to temples, when they are available. There wasn't a temple about - here, and I didn't know I could have lodged there had there been - one, so I resigned myself to the inevitable, and wondered with all the - energy that was left in me what adverse fate had set me down here. I might - have gone back, of course. In a way I was my own mistress; but after all, - we none of us own ourselves in this world. I had a book to write, and - material for that book was not to be got by staying comfortably in the - Wagons Lits Hotel, and therefore I very reluctantly peeped into a room - from which clouds of dust were issuing, and which smelt worse than any - place I had ever before thought of using as a bed-chamber and dining-room - combined. The dust was because I had impressed upon the valued Tuan that I - must have a clean room, so he had importantly turned <span class="pagenum">160</span><a - name="link160" id="link160"></a>two coolies on to stir up the dust of - ages, a thousand years at least, I should say, there seemed no end to it, - and I wondered, in addition to the merchant guests, what awful microbes - were being wakened out of their long sleep. Left alone, they might have - been buried so deep that they might not have come nigh me; but he was - giving them all a chance. After all it was only fair, a foreign woman did - not visit a Chinese inn every day of the week. After more dust than I had - ever seen before all at once, had come out of that room, I instructed - water to be brought and poured on things in general, and, when the turmoil - had quieted down a little, I went in and inspected my quarters. - </p> - <p> - They all bear a strong family resemblance to one another, the rooms of - these Chinese inns. I always tried to get one that opened directly on to - the courtyard, as giving more chance of air. The Chinese, as a rule, have - not much use for fresh air. Tuan, had he had his way, would have shut the - door fast, as being more correct and private, and then I should have been - in an hermetically sealed room, lighted all along the courtyard side by a - most dainty latticework window covered with white tissue paper, or rather - tissue paper that had once been white. It had been well-smoked during the - winter, and a considerable quantity of the dust that had been so - industriously stirred up, had lodged there. But air I must have, so I had - the paper stripped off from the top of the window as far down as my desire - for privacy would allow. Below, the more daring spirits, who had assembled - to see the foreign woman, wetted their fingers and poked them softly - through the bottom part of the window; and then <span class="pagenum">161</span><a - name="link161" id="link161"></a>an eye appeared, so that it really seemed - at first as if I might as well have been comfortable and had all the paper - off. I went outside, and let it plainly be seen that I was very angry - indeed, and then Tuan, who had a great idea of my dignity, or rather of - his dignity, which was as nothing if I was of no consequence, put one of - the “cartee men” on guard, and once more I retired to my - uncomfortable lodging. It had a stone floor, being quite a superior sort - of inn, the poorer sort have only beaten earth, there were two wooden - chairs of dark wood, high, with narrow and uncomfortable seats, a table, - also uncomfortably high, and of course, the k'ang. Most people know - all about the k'ang now, but this was my first introduction to it as - a working piece of furniture. It is a platform of stone about two feet - high, so constructed that a small fire lighted underneath, and a very - small fire it is, carries the warmth, by a system of flues, all over it. - It is covered generally with matting, and on it is always a k'ang - table, a little table about eighteen inches square and a foot high, and, - though this is not intentional, covered with the grease of many meals. - </p> - <p> - I looked doubtfully at the k'ang this first day. It seemed to me I - could not lodge in such a place, and I wished heartily that I had left the - describing of China to some more hardened traveller. There was a grass mat - upon it, hiding its stoniness, and I had powdered borax sprinkled over it, - about half a tin of Keating's followed, though I am told the insects - in China rather like Keating's, and only then did I venture to have - my bed set up. Alongside was placed my india-rubber bath, the gift of a - friend, and every night of that journey did I thank her with <span - class="pagenum">162</span><a name="link162" id="link162"></a>all my heart, - it was so much nicer than my old canvas bath, and making sure that the - “cartee man” was still on guard I proceeded to wash and - undress and creep into my sleeping-bag. - </p> - <p> - At only one Chinese inn where I stayed could food for the traveller be - had, and that was, I think, only because it combined the functions of - innkeeping and restaurant. In any case, of course, the foreign traveller - would not think of eating Chinese food, and I, like everyone else, - provided my own. I brought with me rice, tea, and flour. Tuan cooked for - me on an absurd little charcoal stove upon which I might have succeeded in - boiling an egg. With the exception of those few stores, I lived off the - country, buying chickens and eggs, onions, and hard little pears; Tuan - doing the buying, charging me at a rate that made me wonder how on earth - the “Wagons Lits” managed to board and lodge its guests at a - day. I used to think that, for sheer toughness, the palm might be given to - the West African chicken, but I withdraw that statement, he isn't in - it alongside the Chinese. We used to buy small birds about the size of a - pigeon, But an elderly ostrich couldn't have been tougher. My teeth, - thank Heaven, are excellent, but the Chinese chicken was too much for - them. I then saw why Tuan had provided a chopper for kitchen use, he - called it “cookee knife,” and the fiat went forth—I - would have no more chicken unless it was minced. - </p> - <p> - But that first night I couldn't look at chicken, I couldn't - even laugh at the woodeny pears and rice which were the next course. I - declined everything, lay in bed and drank tea, the wind came in through - <span class="pagenum">163</span><a name="link163" id="link163"></a>the - open lattice-work, guttered my candle and then blew it out, and I, first - hot, and then cold, and always miserable, stared at the luminous night - sky, cut into squares by the lattice-work of the window, was conscious of - every bone in my body, and wondered if I were not going to be very ill - indeed. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0243.jpg" alt="0243 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0243.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—THE TUNGLING - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">164</span><a name="link164" id="link164"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>A Peking cart as a cure for influenza—Difficulties of a narrow - road—The dead have right of way—The unlucky women—Foot - binding—“Beat you, beat you”—Lost luggage—“You - must send your husband”—Letter-writing under difficulties—A - masterless woman—Malanyu—Most perfect place of tombs in the - world.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut I wasn't. - As a rule I find I worry myself unnecessarily in life. Either a thing can - be altered, or it can't. If it can't there's an end to - the matter, worrying doesn't mend it. I had come here of my own free - will—it wasn't nice, but there was nothing to do but make the - best of it. In the morning if I wasn't very happy I was no worse, - and to go back that weary journey to Peking would only be to make myself - ridiculous. Therefore I arose with the sun, and a nice, bright cheerful - sun he was, looked at my breakfast, drank the tea and was ready to start. - All the hamlet watched me climb into my cart. I felt I couldn't have - walked a step to save my life, and we rumbled over that steep step, and - were out in the roadway again. - </p> - <p> - It is not the best way to view a country from a Peking cart, for the - tossing from side to side is apt to engender a distaste for life and to - encourage a feeling that nothing would really matter if only the cart - would come to a standstill for a moment. Add to that the aching head of - influenza and that morning <span class="pagenum">165</span><a - name="link165" id="link165"></a>I began to pity not only myself but my - publisher, for I began to fear he was going to lose money on me. It was - Byron, I think, who considered that Providence or somebody else who shall - be nameless always took care of publishers, and that is the reason perhaps - why I have come to the opinion that a trip in a Peking cart is really the - best cure for influenza. Had I gone to bed and had someone kind and nice - to wait upon me and bring me the milk and soda and offer the sympathy my - soul desired, I should probably have taken a fortnight to get well; as it - was, out in the open air from dawn to dark, three days saw the end of my - woes, and even at the worst I was able to sit up and take a certain amount - of interest in passing events. - </p> - <p> - Gradually, gradually, as we went on we seemed to forget the great city - that absorbed all things, and the surroundings became more truly - countrified. The road, when it was not stones, was deep sand with deep, - deep ruts worn by the passing of many carts, and it stretched over just as - great a portion of the country as the people would allow. Flat it was, - flat, and all along the way were little villages and hamlets. There was no - temptation to walk, for it was very rough indeed, just the worn road and - the edge of the tilled fields, tilled as surely never before in the world - were fields tilled, and they stretched away to the far distant blue hills. - Occasionally the road sank deep between them, and as it was very narrow - the traffic question was sometimes troublesome. On this day we met a - country cart, a longer cart than the Peking cart, covered in with matting - and drawn by a mule and a couple of donkeys. Manifestly there was not room - for the carts to pass <span class="pagenum">166</span><a - name="link166_rdquo_________id_" id="link166_rdquo_________id_"></a>and I - wondered what would happen for, for either of us, laden as we were, to go - backwards would have been difficult. I was requested to get out, which I - did reluctantly, my carts were drawn so close against the bank that the - right wheels were raised against it, and then they tried to get the other - cart past. No good, it would not go. About a dozen men all in dirty, very - dirty blue, with pointed hats of grass matting, looking as if they had - stepped off old-fashioned tea caddies, came and took an intelligent - interest, even as they might have done in Staffordshire, but that didn't - make the carts any smaller, and then they decided to drive the country - cart up the bank into the field above. They tried and tried, they lashed - that unfortunate mule and the donkeys, but with all their pulling it was - too heavy, up the bank it would not go. Chinese patience was exemplified. - But it was the mule and the donkeys that really displayed the patience. I - climbed the bank, sat on a stone and watched them, and did not like to - give my valuable advice, because these men must have been driving carts - along these roads all their lives, and presumably must know something - about it, while never in my life had I handled a team consisting of two - donkeys and a mule. At last when they got an extra hard lashing and fell - back, conquered once more, poor brutes, by the weight, I rose up and - interfered. I did not request—I ordered. They were to take the two - foremost mules from my carts and hitch them on to the other cart. My - foremost mule protested, he evidently said he had never been associated - with donkeys before; but in two minutes they had got that cart to the - higher level, and we were free to go on our way. Why <span class="pagenum">167</span><a - name="link167" id="link167"></a>they did not do it without my ordering I - am sure I do not know, for as a rule I had no authority over the carts, - they went their own way—I was merely a passenger. - </p> - <p> - Once more that day the narrow way was blocked, this time by a funeral. The - huge coffin was borne by ten straining men, and there was no parleying - with it, the dead have right of way in China, and out of the way we had to - get. We backed with difficulty till the bank on one side was a little - lower, and then up we went till we were on the cultivated land, drove on - till we were ahead of the corpse, and then down again into the roadway - once more. - </p> - <p> - In China, as far as I have been, you never get away from the people, this - country was far more thickly populated than the country round London, for - I have walked in Surrey lanes and found no one of whom to ask a question, - while here there were always people in sight. True, here were no leafy - lanes such as we find in Surrey and Kent, but the whole country lay flat - and outstretched till it seemed as if nothing were hidden right up to the - base of the far away hills. The days were getting hot and the men were - working in the fields stripped to the waist, while most of the little boys - were stark naked, pretty little lissom things they were, too, if they had - only been washed; and the little girls, for all clothing, wore a square - blue pocket-handkerchief put on corner-wise in front, slung round the neck - and tied round the waist with a bit of string; but farther on, in the - mountain villages, I have seen the little girls like the little boys, - stark naked. Only the women are clothed to the neck, whatever the state of - the thermometer. Always there were houses by the <span class="pagenum">168</span><a - name="link168" id="link168"></a>wayside, and many villages and hamlets, - and the women sat on the doorsteps sewing, generally it seemed to me at - the sole of a shoe, or two of them laboured at the little stone corn - mills, that were in every village, grinding the corn, the millet, or the - maize, for household use. Sometimes a donkey, and a donkey can be bought - for a very small sum, turned the stone, but usually it seemed that it was - the women of the household who, on their tiny feet, painfully hobbled - round, turning the heavy stone and smoothing out the flour with their - hands, so that it might be smoothly and evenly ground. - </p> - <p> - Poor women! They have a saying in China to the effect that a woman eats - bitterness, and she surely does, if the little I have seen of her life is - any criterion. As I went through the villages, in the morning and evening, - I could hear the crying of children. Chinese children are proverbially - naughty, no one ever checks them, and I could not know why these children - were crying, some probably from the pure contrariness of human nature, but - a missionary woman, and a man who scorned missionaries and all their works - both told me that, morning and evening, the little girls cried because the - bandages on their feet were being drawn more tightly. Always it is a - gnawing pain, and the only relief the little girl can get is by pressing - the calf of her leg tightly against the edge of the k'ang. The - pressure stops the flow of blood and numbs the feet as long as it is kept - up, but it cannot be kept up long, and with the rush of blood comes the - increase of pain—a pain that the tightening of the bandages deepens. - </p> - <p> - “Beat you, beat you,” cries the mother taking a <span - class="pagenum">169</span><a name="link169" id="link169"></a>stick to the - little suffering thing, “you cry when I bind your feet.” For a - Chinese woman must show no emotion, above all she must never complain. - This, of course, is a characteristic of the nation. The men will bear much - without complaining. - </p> - <p> - I never grew accustomed to it. The pity and the horror of it never failed - to strike me, and if the missionaries do but one good work, they do it in - prevailing on the women to unbind their feet, in preventing unlucky little - girls from going through years of agony. - </p> - <p> - There is no mistaking the gait of a woman with bound feet. She walks as if - her legs were made of wood, unbending from the hip downwards to the heels. - The feet are tiny, shaped like small hoofs about four inches long, encased - in embroidered slippers, and to walk at all she must hold out her arms to - balance herself. When I was laughed at for my “pathetic note,” - and was told I exaggerated the sufferings of the women, I took the trouble - to inquire of four doctors, three men and one woman, people who came daily - in contact with these women, and they were all of one opinion, the - sufferings of the women were very great. The binding in girlhood was not - only terribly painful but even after the process was finished the feet - were often diseased, often sore and ulcerated, and at the very best the - least exertion, as is only natural, makes them ache. - </p> - <p> - “Try,” said one doctor, “walking with your toes crushed - under your sole, the arch of your foot pressed up till the whole foot is - barely four inches long, and you can only walk on your heel, and see if - you do not suffer—suffer in all parts of your body. They say,” - he went on, “that while there are many <span class="pagenum">170</span><a - name="link170" id="link170"></a>peaceful, kindly old men among the - Chinese, every woman is a shrew. And I can well believe it. What else - could you expect? Oh women have a mighty thin time in China. I don't - believe there is any place in the world where they have a worse.” - </p> - <p> - If anyone doubts that this custom presses heavily on the women, let him - ask any doctor who has practised much among the Chinese how many legs he - has taken off because the neglected sores of ulcerated, bound feet have - become gangrenous and a danger to life. - </p> - <p> - “It really doesn't matter,” said another doctor I knew - well, “a Chinese woman is just as well with a pair of wooden legs as - with the stumps the binding has left her!” - </p> - <p> - As a rule I did not see the beginnings, for though the women go about a - little, the small girls are kept at home. But once on this journey, at a - poor little inn in the mountains, among the crowd gathered to see the - foreign woman were two little girls about eight or nine, evidently the - innkeeper's daughters. They were well-dressed among a ragged crew. - Their smocks were of bright blue cotton, their neat little red cotton - trousers were drawn in at their ankles, and their feet, in tiny - embroidered shoes, were about big enough for a child of three. There was - paint on their cheeks to hide their piteous whiteness, and their faces - were drawn with that haunting look which long-continued pain gives. As - they stood they rested their hands on their companions' shoulders, - and, when they moved, it was with extreme difficulty. No one took any - notice of them. They were simply little girls suffering the usual agonies - that custom has ordained a woman <span class="pagenum">171</span><a - name="link171" id="link171"></a>shall suffer before she is considered a - meet plaything and slave for a man. A woman who would be of any standing - at all must so suffer. Poor little uncomplaining mites, they laughed and - talked, but their faces, white and strained under the paint, haunted me - the livelong night, and I felt that I who stood by and suffered this thing - was guilty of a wicked wrong to my fellows. - </p> - <p> - And foot binding may result in death. There was a child whose father, a - widower, not knowing what to do with his little girl, an asset of small - value, sold her to a woman of ill repute. The little slave was five years - old, but as yet, her feet had not been bound. Her mistress of course took - her in hand and bound her feet, so that she might be married some day. But - her feet being bound did not exempt small Wong Lan from her household - duties. Every morning, baby as she was, she had to get up, kindle the - fire, and take hot water to her mistress, who, in her turn, did not give - the attention they required to the poor little feet. With feet sore, - ulcerated and dirty, she went about such household duties as a little - child could do, till they grew so bad she could only lie about and moan, - and was a nuisance to the woman who had taken her. At last a man living in - the same courtyard had pity on her. He was a mason and had worked at the - great hospital the foreigners had set up just outside the walls of the - city where they lived, and he took her in his arms, a baby not yet seven, - and brought her to the doctor. She had cried and cried, he said, and he - thought she would die if she were left. The doctor when he took her - thought she was going to die whether she were left or not. There and then - he took a pair of <span class="pagenum">172</span><a - name="link172_rdquo_________id_" id="link172_rdquo_________id_"></a>scissors, - snapped two threads and one foot was off, still in its filthy little - slipper. The whole leg was gangrenous and they nursed the baby up for a - week till she was strong enough to have the leg amputated at the hip. She - grew better, though the doctor shook his head over her. The missionaries - decided they had better keep her, and as she recovered, they set about - getting her crutches. A Chinese woman evidently begins to be - self-conscious very soon, for the mite cried bitterly when they wanted to - measure her. The Chinese have a great horror of any deformity, and she - thought she would be an object of scorn if she went about on crutches, and - everyone could see she had only one leg. Her idea was that she should sit - all day long on the k'ang, and then it would be hidden. However, her - guardians prevailed, and presently she was hopping about the missionary - compound, and being a pretty, taking little girl soon found friends who - forgot, or what was more important, taught Her to forget, that she was - crippled. Someone gave her a doll, and with this treasure tucked under her - arm, she paid visits from one house to the other, happy as the day was - long, petted by Chinese and foreigners alike. But the doctor who had - shaken his head over her at first was right. The poison was in her system, - and in a little over six months from the day she was brought in to the - hospital she died. Poor little mite! For six months she had been perfectly - happy. The man who had brought her in made her a coffin, the aliens who - had succoured and cared for her laid her there with the doll she had been - so proud of in her arms, and told all the Chinese who had known her they - might come and say a last farewell. They came, <span class="pagenum">173</span><a - name="link173" id="link173"></a>and then—oh curious human nature!—someone - stole the poor little makeshift doll from the dead baby's arms! - </p> - <p> - Of course cruelty to children is a sin that is met with in countries - nearer home, is, in fact, more common in Christian England than in heathen - China. This was a death that was attributable to the low value that is set - on the girl child and to the cruel custom of binding the feet. - </p> - <p> - And not hundreds and thousands but millions of women so suffer. The - practice, they say, is dying out among the more enlightened in the towns, - but in the country, within fifteen miles of Peking, it is in full swing. - Not only are these “golden lilies” considered beautiful, but - the woman with bound feet is popularly supposed to care more for the - caresses of her lord, than she with natural feet. Of course, a man may not - choose his wife, his mother does that for him, he may not even see her, - but he can, and very naturally often does, ask questions about her. The - question he generally asks is not: “Has she a pretty face?” - but: “Has she small feet?” But if he did not think about it, - the women of his family would consider it for him. - </p> - <p> - A woman told me, how, in the north of Chihli, the custom was for the women - of the bridegroom's family to gather round the newly arrived bride - who sat there, silent and submissive, while they made comments upon her - appearance. - </p> - <p> - “Hoo! she's ugly!” Or worst taunt of all, “Hoo! - What big feet she's got!” - </p> - <p> - Many will tell you it is not the men who insist upon bound feet, but the - women. And, if that is so, to me it only deepens the tragedy. Imagine - <span class="pagenum">174</span><a name="link174" id="link174"></a>how - apart the women must be from the men, when they think, without a shadow of - truth, that to be pleasing to a man, a woman must be crippled. The women - are hardly to be blamed. If they are so ignorant as to believe that no - woman with large feet can hope to become a wife and mother, what else can - they do but bind the little girls' feet? Would any woman dare - deprive her daughter of all chance of wifehood and motherhood by leaving - her feet unbound? Oh the lot of a woman in China is a cruel one, civilised - into a man's toy and slave. I had a thousand times rather be a - negress, one of those business-like trading women of Tarquah, or one of - the capable, independent housewives of Keta. But to be a Chinese woman! - God forbid! - </p> - <p> - It seems very difficult to make a Chinaman understand that a woman has any - rights, even a foreign woman, apart from a man. I remember being - particularly struck with this once at Pao Ting Fu, the capital of Chihli, - a walled town about three hours by rail from Peking. I lost a third of my - luggage by the way, because the powers that be, having charged me a dollar - and a half for its carriage, divided it into three parts, and by the time - I had discovered in what corner the last lot was stowed, the train was - moving on, and I could only be comfortably sure it was being taken away - from me at the rate of twenty miles an hour. However, the stationmaster - assured Dr Lewis, the missionary doctor with whom I was living, that it - should be brought back by the next day. - </p> - <p> - Accordingly, next day, accompanied by a coolie who spoke no English, I - wended my way to the railway station and inquired for that luggage. The - <span class="pagenum">175</span><a name="link175" id="link175"></a>coolie - had been instructed what to say, and I thought they would simply bring me - into contact with my lost property. I would pay any money that was due, - and the thing would be finished. But I had not reckoned on my standing, or - want of standing, as a woman. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0257.jpg" alt="0257 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0257.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Nobody could speak a word of English. In the course of five minutes I - should say, the entire station staff of Pao Ting Fu stood around me, and - vociferously gave me their views—on the weather and the latest - political developments for all I know. If it was about the luggage I was - no wiser. Some were dressed in khaki, some in dark cloth with uniform - caps, and most had the wild hair that comes to the lower classes with the - cutting off of the queue. There were about a dozen of them with a few - idlers in blue cotton, patched, dirty, faded, and darned, and some of - these wore queues, queues that had been slept in for about a week without - attention, and they were all quite anxious to be nice to the foreign - woman, and took turns in trying to make her understand. In vain. What they - wanted I could not imagine. At last a lane opened, and I guessed the - vociferating crowd were saying: “Here is the very man to tackle the - situation.” There came along a little man in dark cloth who stood - before me and in the politest manner laid a dirty, admonitory finger upon - my breast He had a rudimentary knowledge of English but it was very - rudimentary, and I remembered promptly that this was a French railway. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Parlez-vous Français?</i>” said I, wondering if my French - would carry me through. - </p> - <p> - He shook his head. As a matter of fact English, <span class="pagenum">176</span><a - name="link176" id="link176"></a>pidgin-English, is the language of China, - when another tongue is wanted, and my new friend's English was not - at all bad—what there was of it. Though why I should go to their - country and expect these people to understand me I'm sure I do not - know. - </p> - <p> - “Your luggage is here,” said he very slowly, emphasising every - word by a tap. - </p> - <p> - “Thank Heaven,” I sighed, “take me to it,” but he - paid no heed. - </p> - <p> - “You”—and he tapped on solemnly—“must—send—your—husband.” - </p> - <p> - This was a puzzler. “My husband,” I said meekly, “is - dead.” - </p> - <p> - It looked like a deadlock. It was apparently impossible to deliver up her - luggage to a woman whose husband was dead. Everybody on the platform, - including the idlers, made some suggestion to relieve the strain, and - feeling that it might help matters, I said he had been dead a very long - time, I was a lonely orphan and I had no brothers. They probably discussed - the likelihood of my having any other responsible male belongings and - dismissed it, and the man, who knew English, returned to the charge. - </p> - <p> - “Where—do—you—stay?” and he tapped his way - through the sentence. - </p> - <p> - “At Dr Lewis's.” I felt like doing it singsong fashion - myself. - </p> - <p> - “You—must—tell—Lu Tai Fu—to—come.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” I remonstrated, “Dr Lewis is busy, and he does - not know the luggage.” - </p> - <p> - There was another long confabulation, then a brilliant idea flashed like a - meteor across the crowd. <span class="pagenum">177</span><a - name="link177_rdquo_________id_" id="link177_rdquo_________id_"></a>"You—must—go—back—and—write—a— - letter,” and with a decisive tap my linguist friend stood back, and - the whole crowd looked at me as much as to say that settled it most - satisfactorily. - </p> - <p> - I argued the matter. I wanted to see the luggage. - </p> - <p> - “The—luggage—is—here”—tapped my - friend, reproachfully, as if regretting I should be so foolish—“you—must—go—back—write—one— - piecey—letter.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll write it here,” said I, and after about a quarter - of an hour taken up in tapping, I was conducted round to the back of the - station, an elderly inkpot and a very, very elderly pen with a point like - a very rusty pin were produced, but there was no paper. Everyone looked - about, under the benches, up at the ceiling, and at last one really - resourceful person produced a luggage label of a violent yellow hue, and - on the back of that, with some difficulty, for as well as the bad pen, - there was a suspicion of gum on the paper, I wrote a letter to “Dear - Sir” requesting that responsible individual to hand over my luggage - to my servant, I signed my name with as big a flourish as the size of the - label would allow, and then I stood back and awaited developments. - </p> - <p> - Everybody in the room looked at that valuable document. They tried it - sideways, they tried it upside down, but no light came. At last the - linguist remarked with his usual tap: - </p> - <p> - “No—can—read.” - </p> - <p> - Well, I could read English, so with great <i>empressement</i> and as if I - were conferring a great favour, I read that erudite document aloud to the - admiring crowd, even to my own name, and such was the magic of the written - word, that in about two <span class="pagenum">178</span><a - name="link178_rdquo_________id_" id="link178_rdquo_________id_"></a>minutes - the lost luggage appeared, and was handed over to my waiting coolie! Only - when I was gone doubt fell once more upon the company. Could a woman, a - masterless woman, be trusted? they questioned. And the stationmaster sent - word to Lu Tai Fu that he must have his card to show that it was all - right! - </p> - <p> - If a woman counted for so little in a town where the foreigner was well - known, could I expect much in out-of-the-way parts. I didn't expect - much, luckily. The people came and looked at me, and they were invariably - courteous and polite, with an old-world courtesy that must have come down - to them through the ages, but they did not envy, I felt it very strongly—at - bottom they were contemptuous. As I have seen the lower classes in an - Australian mining town, as I myself have looked upon a stranger in an - outlandish dress in the streets of London, so these country people looked - upon me. It was just as well to make the most of a show, because their - lives were uneventful, that was all. - </p> - <p> - It began to get on my nerves before I had done, this contemptuous - curiosity. I don't know that I was exactly afraid, but I grew to - understand why missionaries perish when the people have all apparently - been well-disposed. These people would not have robbed me themselves, but - had I met any of the robbers I had been threatened with in Peking, I am - sure not one of them would have raised even a finger to help me, they - would not even have protested. I was outside their lives. - </p> - <p> - And at last, at Malanyu, the hills that at first had loomed purple on the - horizon, fairly overshadowed us, and I had arrived at the first stage of - my <span class="pagenum">179</span><a name="link179" id="link179"></a>journey, - the Tungling, or Eastern Tombs. We did forty miles that day over the - roughest road I had gone yet, and thankful was I when we rumbled through - the gates of the dirty, crowded, little town. - </p> - <p> - We put up at the smallest and filthiest inn I had yet met. Chinese towns, - even the smallest country hamlet, are always suggestive of slums, and - Malanyu was worse than usual, but I slept the sleep of the utterly weary, - and next morning at sunrise I had breakfast and went to see the tombs. I - went in state, in my own cart with an extra mule on in front, I seated - under the tilt a little back, and my servant and the head “cartee - man” on the shafts; and then I discovered that if a loaded cart is - an abomination before the Lord, a light cart is something unspeakable. But - we had seen the wall that went round the tombs the night Before, just the - other side of the town, so I consoled myself with the reflection that my - sufferings would not be for long. - </p> - <p> - When the Imperial Manchus sought a last resting-place for themselves they - had the whole of China to choose from, and they took with Oriental - disregard for humbler people; but—saving grace—they chose - wisely though they chose cruelly. They have taken for their own a place - just where the mountains begin, a place that must be miles in extent. It - is of rich alluvial soil swept down by the rains from the hills, and all - China, with her teeming population, cannot afford to waste one inch of - soil. The tiniest bit of arable land, as I had been seeing for the last - three days, is put to some use, it is tilled and planted and carefully - tended, though it bear only a single fruit-tree, only a handful of grain, - but here we entered a park, waste land covering many miles, wasted with - <span class="pagenum">180</span><a name="link180" id="link180"></a>a royal - disregard for the people's needs. It lay in a great bay of the - hills, sterile, stony, rugged hills with no trace of green upon them, - hills that stand up a perfect background to a most perfect place of tombs. - I had thought the resting-place of the Mings wonderful, but surely there - is no such place for the honoured dead as that the Manchus have set up at - the Eastern Tombs. - </p> - <p> - Immediately we entered the gateway, the cart jolting wickedly along a - hardly defined track, I found myself in a forest of firs and pines that - grew denser as we advanced. Here and there was a poplar or other deciduous - tree, green with the greenness of May time, but the touch of lighter - colour only emphasised the sombreness of the pines and firs that, with - their dark foliage, deepened the solemnity of the scene. Through their - branches peeped the deep blue sky, and every now and again they opened out - a little, and beyond I could see the bare hills, brown, and orange, and - purple, but always beautiful, with the shadows chasing each other over - them, and losing themselves in their folds. Spacious, grand, silent, truly - an ideal place for the burial of Emperors and their consorts is hidden - here in the heart of mysterious, matter-of-fact China, and once again I - was shown, as I was being shown every day, another side of China from the - toiling thousands I saw in the great city and on the country roads. - </p> - <p> - Dotted about in this great park, with long vistas in between are the - tombs. They are enclosed in walls, walls of the pinkish red that encloses - all imperial grounds, generally there is a caretaker, and they look for - all the world like comfortable houses, picturesque and artistic, nestling - secluded and away <span class="pagenum">181</span><a - name="link181_rdquo_________id_" id="link181_rdquo_________id_"></a>from - the rush and roar of cities, homes where a man may take his well-earned - rest. The filthy inn at which I stayed, the reeking little town of - Malanyu, though it is at the very gates, is as far-removed from all - contact with the tombs as are the slums of Notting Dale from the mansions - in Park Lane, or the sordid, mean streets of Paddington from the home of - the King in Buckingham Palace. The birds, the innumerable, much-loved - birds of China sang in the trees their welcome to the glorious May - morning, and the only thing out of keeping was my groaning, jolting, - complaining Peking cart and the shouts of the “cartee man” - assuring the mules, so I have been told, that the morals of their female - relatives were certainly not above suspicion. - </p> - <p> - Here and there, among the trees, rose up marble pillars tall and stately, - carved with dragons and winged at the top, such as one sees in - representations of Babylon and Nineveh, there was a marble bridge, - magnificent, with the grass growing up between the great paving-stones - that here, as everywhere in China, seem to mark the small value that has - been put on human flesh and blood, for by human hands have they been - placed here, and the uprights are crowned by the symbolic cloud form, - caught in the marble. This bridge crosses no stream. It is evidently just - a manifestation of power, the power that crushes, and beyond it is an - avenue of marble animals. There they stand on the green sward, the green - sward stolen from the hungry, curving away towards the p'ia lou - stand, as they have stood for many a long year, horses, elephants, - fabulous beasts that might have come out of the Book of Revelations, - guarding the entrance <span class="pagenum">182</span><a name="link182" - id="link182"></a>to the place of rest. They are not nearly so magnificent - as the avenue at the Ming Tombs, they are only quaintly Chinese, it is the - winged pillars, the silence, the sombre pine and fir-trees, and the - everlasting hills behind that give them dignity. - </p> - <p> - And now Tuan became very important. I began to feel that he had arranged - the whole for my benefit, and was keeping the best piece back to crown it - all. We came to a piece of wild country and I was requested to get out of - the cart. Getting out of the cart where there was no place to step was - always a business. I was stiff from the jolting, felt disinclined to be - very acrobatic, and Tuan always felt it his bounden duty to stretch out - his arms to catch me, or break my fall. He was so small, though he was - round and fat, that he always complicated matters by making me feel that - if I did fall I should certainly materially damage him, but it was no good - protesting, it was the correct thing for him to help his Missie out of her - cart, and he was prepared to perish in the attempt. However, here was a - soft cushion of fragrant pine needles, so I scrambled down without any of - the qualms from which I usually suffered. We had come to a halt for a - moment by the steep side of a little wooded hill where a narrow footpath - wound round it. Just such a modest little path between steep rising ground - one might see in the Surrey Hills. It invites to a secluded glen, but no - cart could possibly go along it, it is necessary to walk. I turned the - corner of the hill and lo! there was a paved way, a newly paved way, such - as I have seldom seen in China. The faint morning breeze stirred among the - pine needles, making a low, mysterious whispering, and out against the - back <span class="pagenum">183</span><a name="link183" id="link183"></a>ground - stood, a splash of brilliant, glowing colour, the many roofs of - golden-brown tiles that cover the mausoleum of the great woman who once - ruled over China, the last who made a stand, a futile stand, against - foreign aggression, and now a foreigner and a woman, unarmed and alone, - might come safely and stand beside her tomb. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0267.jpg" alt="0267 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0267.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0268.jpg" alt="0268 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0268.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Perhaps that was the best way to view it, at any rate inside I could not - go, for the key I discovered was at Malanyu, and it would have taken me at - least half a day to go back and get it. Besides I don't think I - wanted to go inside. I would not for the world have spoilt the memory that - remains in my mind by any tawdry detail such as I had seen at the younger - Empress's funeral. It was just a little spoilt as it was by my boy, - who came along mysteriously and pointed with a secret finger at the - custodian of the tomb, who had not the keys. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose Missie makee littee <i>cumshaw</i>. Suppose my payee one - dollar.” - </p> - <p> - And I expect the man did get perhaps sixty cents, because Tuan was bent on - impressing on these people the fact that his Missie was a very important - woman indeed. - </p> - <p> - It was worth it, it was well worth it. - </p> - <p> - They say that the old in China is passing away. “Behold upon the - mountains the feet of him that bringeth good tidings.” Will they - sweep away these tombs and give this land to the people? I hope not, I - think not, I pray not. The present in China is inextricably mixed up with - the past. “Oh Judah keep thy solemn feast, perform thy vows.” - Sometimes it is surely well that the beautiful should be kept for a - nation, even at great cost. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—A WALLED CITY - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">184</span><a name="link184" id="link184"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Numerous walled towns—The dirt of them—T'ung Chou—Romance - of the evening light—My own little walled city—The gateways—Hospitable - landlady—Bald heads—My landlady's room—A return - present—“The ringleaders have been executed”—Summary - justice—To the rescue of the missionaries at Hsi An Fu—The - Elder Brother Society-Primitive method of attack and defence—The - sack of I Chun.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>h that first - walled city! It was the first of many walled cities, many of them so small - that it did not take us more than a quarter of an hour to cross from gate - to gate; but to enter one and all was like opening a door into the past, - into the life our forbears lived before the country I was born and brought - up in was ever thought of. When I was a little girl, I cherished a desire - to marry a German baron, a German baron of the Middle Ages, who lived in a - castle, and I could not help thinking, as the influenza left me and I - regained my powers of thought, that here were the towns of my German baron's - time—dirt and all. In my childhood I had never thought of the dirt, - or perhaps I had not minded. One thing is certain, in the clean land of my - childhood I never realised what the dirt that comes from a packed - population, from seething humanity, can be like. The Chinese live in these - crowded towns for the sake of security—of security in this twentieth - century—for even still, China seems to be much in the condition of - Europe of the Middle Ages, safety cannot be absolutely counted upon inside - the gates of a town, but at least it is a little safer than the open - country. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">185</span><a name="link185" id="link185"></a>We - passed through T'ung Chou when the soft tender evening shadows were - falling upon battlements and walls built by a nation that, though it is - most practical, is also one of the most poetical on earth; we passed - through Chi Chou when the shadows were long in the early morning, and in - the sunlight was the hope of the new-born day. Through the gate was coming - a train of Peking carts, of laden donkeys, of great grain carts with seven - mules, all bound for the capital in the south. - </p> - <p> - I remember these two perhaps because they were the first of many walled - towns, but Tsung Hua Chou will always remain in my memory as my own little - walled city, the one that I explored carefully all by myself, and, when I - think of a walled town, my thoughts always fly back to that little town, - three-quarters of a mile square, at the foot of the hills that mark the - limit of the great plain of China proper. - </p> - <p> - It was Tuan's suggestion we should stay there. I would have lingered - at the tombs, but he was emphatic. - </p> - <p> - “Missie want make picture. More better we stop Tsung Hua Chou. Fine - picture Tsung Hua Chou.” - </p> - <p> - There weren't fine pictures at Tsung Hua Chou. He had struck up a - great friendship with the “cartee man,” and, perhaps, either - he or the “cartee man” had a favourite gaming-house, or a - favourite <span class="pagenum">186</span><a name="link186" id="link186"></a>singing - girl in the town. At any rate we went, and I, for some hardly explainable - reason, am glad we did. - </p> - <p> - The road from the tombs was simply appalling. The hills frowned down on - us, close on either side, high and steep and rugged, but the rough valley - bottom, up which we went, was the wildest I was to see for a long time. To - say I was tossed and jolted, is to but mildly express the condition of - affairs. I sat on a cushion, I packed my bedding round me, and with both - my hands I held on to the side of the cart, and if for one moment I - relaxed the rigidity of my aching arms, my head or some other portion of - my aching anatomy, was brought into contact with the woodwork of the cart, - just in the place I had reckoned the woodwork could not possibly have - reached me. There were little streams and bridges across them, which I - particularly dreaded, for the bridges were always roughly paved, but it - was nobody's business to see that the road and the pavement met - neatly, and the jolt the cart gave, both getting on and getting off, - nearly shook the soul out of my body. I thought of walking, for our - progress was very slow, but in addition to the going being bad, the mules - went just a little faster than I did, three and a half miles an hour to my - three, and I felt there was nothing for it but to resign myself and make - the best of a bad job. Not for worlds would I have lingered an hour longer - on that road than I was absolutely obliged. And yet, bad as it was, it was - the best road I had till I got back to Peking again. There may be worse - roads than those of China, and there may be worse ways of getting over - them than in a <span class="pagenum">187</span><a name="link187" - id="link187"></a>Peking cart, but I do trust I never come across them. - </p> - <p> - We entered the gates of the city as the evening shadows were growing long, - and as usual, I was carried back to the days of the Crusaders—or - farther still to Babylon—as we rumbled under the arched gateway, but - inside it was like every other town I have seen, dirty, sordid, crowded, - with uneven pavements that there was no getting away from. Within the - curtain wall, that guarded the gate, there were the usual little stalls - for the sale of cakes, big, round, flat cakes and little scone-like cakes, - studded with sesame seed, or a bright pink sweetmeat; there were the - sellers of pottery ware, basins and pots of all sorts, and the people - stared at the foreign woman, the wealthy foreign woman who ran to two - carts. It is an unheard-of thing in China for a Chinese woman to travel - alone, though sometimes the foreign missionary women do, but they would - invariably be accompanied by a Chinese woman, and one woman would not be - likely to have two carts. One thing was certain however, my outfit was all - that it should have been, bar the lack of a male protector. It bespoke me - a woman of wealth and position in the eyes of the country folk, and the - people of the little towns through which I passed. It is possible that a - mule litter might have enhanced my dignity; but after all, two Peking - carts was very much like having a first-class compartment all to myself. - </p> - <p> - There were no foreigners, that I could hear of, in Tsung Hua Chou. The - missionaries had fled during the Boxer trouble, and never come back, so - that I was more of a show than usual, though <span class="pagenum">188</span><a - name="link188" id="link188"></a>indeed, in all the towns I passed through - I was a show, and the people stared, and chattered, and crowded round the - carts, and evidently closely questioned the carters. - </p> - <p> - They tell me Chinese carters are often rascals, but I grew to like mine - very much before we parted company. - </p> - <p> - They were stolid men in blue, with dirty rags wrapped round their heads to - keep off the dust, and I have no reason to suppose that they affected - water any more than the rest of the population, whereby I perceive, my - affections are not so much guided by a desire for cleanliness as I had - once supposed. They both had the hands of artists, artists with very dirty - nails, so it may be a feeling of brotherhood had something to do with my - feelings, for I am hoping you who read will count me an artist in a small - way. What romance they wove about me, for the benefit of the questioning - people, I don't know, but the result of their communications was - that the crowd pressed closer, and stared harder, and they were - evil-smelling, and had never, never in all their lives been washed. I - ceased to wonder that I ached all over with the jolting and rumbling of - the cart, I only wondered if something worse had not befallen me, and how - it happened that these people, who crowded round, staring as if never in - their lives had they seen a foreign woman before, did not fall victims to - some horrible pestilence. - </p> - <p> - For once inside Tsung Hua Chou I saw no beauty in it, for all the romantic - walls outside. The evil-smelling streets we rumbled through to the inn - were wickedly narrow, and down the centre hung notices in Chinese - characters on long strips of <span class="pagenum">189</span><a - name="link189" id="link189"></a>paper white and red, and pigs, and - children, and creaking wheelbarrows, and men with loads, blocked the way. - But we jolted over the step into the courtyard of the inn at last, quite a - big courtyard, and quite a busy inn. This was an inn where they apparently - ran a restaurant, for as I climbed stiffly out of my cart a servant, - carrying a tray of little basins containing the soups and stews the - Chinese eat, was so absorbed in gazing at me he ran into the “cartee - man,” and a catastrophe occurred which was the occasion of much bad - language. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0276.jpg" alt="0276 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0276.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The courtyard was crowded. There were blue-tilted Peking carts, there were - mules, there were donkeys, there were men of all sorts; but there was only - one wretched little room for me. It was very dirty too, and I was very - tired. What was to be done? - </p> - <p> - “Plenty Chinese gentlemen sleep here,” declared Tuan, and I - could quite believe it. At the door of every lattice-windowed room that - looked out on to that busy courtyard, stood one, or perhaps two Chinese of - the better class—long petticoats, shaven head, queue and all—each - held in his hand a long, silver-mounted pipe from which he took languid - whiffs, and he looked under his eyelids, which is the polite way, at the - foreign woman. The foreign woman was very dirty, very tired, and very - uncomfortable, and the room looked very hopeless. The “cartee men” - declared that this was the best inn in the town, and anyhow I was - disinclined to go out and look for other quarters. Then there came - tottering forward an old woman with tiny feet, one eye and a yellow flower - stuck in the knot at the back of her bald head. China is the country of - bald <span class="pagenum">190</span><a name="link190" id="link190"></a>women. - The men, I presume, would not mind it very much, as for so long they have - shaven off at least half their hair, but the women certainly must, for if - they can they dress their dark hair very elaborately. And yet have I seen - many women, like this innkeeper's wife, with a head so bald that but - a few strands of hair cover its nakedness, yet those few poor hairs are - gathered together into an arrangement of black silk shaped something like - a horn, and beside it is placed a flower, a rose, a pink oleander blossom, - or a bright yellow flower for which I have no name. That flower gives a - finish to a sleek and well-dressed head, when the owner has plenty of - hair, but when she has only the heavy horn of silk, half a dozen hairs, - and the rest of her bald pate covered with a black varnish, it is a poor - travesty. When a girl marries, immediately after her husband has lifted - her veil and she is left to the women of his family they pluck out the - front hairs on her forehead, so as to give a square effect, and the hair - is drawn very tightly back and gathered generally into this horn. I - suspect this heavy horn is responsible for the baldness, though an - American of my acquaintance declares it is the plucking out of the hairs - on the forehead. “The rest of the hair,” says he, “kinder - gets discouraged.” - </p> - <p> - This innkeeper's wife was very kindly. She said I should not sleep - in that room, I should have her room, and she would go to her mother's. - The mother was a surprise to me. I hope when I am as old as she looked I - shall have a mother to go to. - </p> - <p> - Now I do not as a rule embrace my landlady. In England I couldn't - even imagine myself feeling particularly kindly towards a dirty little - woman clad <span class="pagenum">191</span><a name="link191" id="link191"></a>in - a shirt and trousers of exceedingly dirty blue cotton, but the intention - was so evidently kind and hospitable, I knew not a word of her tongue, and - was by no means sure the valued Tuan would translate my words of thanks - properly, so I could but take both her very dirty little hands in mine, - clasp them warmly, and try and look my thanks. - </p> - <p> - Then I inspected her room. It was approached through an entrance where - lime was stored, it was rather dark, and it was of good size, though on - one side was stacked a supply of stores for the restaurant. Chinese - macaroni, that looks as if it were first cousin to sheet gelatine, stale - eggs and other nondescript eatables. There was a k'ang, of course, - quite a family k'ang, and there was a large mirror on one wall. I - had forgotten my camp mirror, so I looked in it eagerly, and the - reflection left me chastened. I hadn't expected the journey to - improve my looks, but I did hope it had not swelled up one cheek, and - bunged up the other eye. I felt I did not want to stay in the room with - that mirror, but there were other things worse than the mirror in it. The - beautiful lattice-work window had apparently never been opened since the - first cover of white tissue paper had been put on it, and the smell of - human occupancy there defies my poor powers of description. The dirty - little place I had at first disdained, had at least a door opening on to - the comparatively fresh air of the courtyard. I told Tuan to explain that - while I was delighted to see her room, and admired everything very much in - it, nothing would induce me to deprive her of its comforts. She certainly - was friendly. As I looked in the chastening mirror, I, like a true woman, - I suppose, put up <span class="pagenum">192</span><a name="link192" - id="link192"></a>a few stray locks that the jolting cart had shaken out of - place, and she promptly wanted to do my hair herself with a selection from - an array of elderly combs with which she probably dressed her own scanty - locks. That was too much. I had to decline, I trust she thought it was my - modesty, and then she offered me some of the macaroni. I tried to say I - had nothing to give in return and then Tuan remarked, “As friend, as - friend.” So as a friend, from that little maimed one-eyed old woman - up in the hills of China, I took a handful of macaroni and had nothing to - give in return. I hope she feels as friendly towards me as I shall always - do towards her. - </p> - <p> - It is not always that the difficulty of giving a return present is on the - foreign side, sometimes it is the Chinese who feel it. I remember a - traveller for a business house telling me how on one occasion he had gone - to a village and entertained the elders at dinner, giving them brandy - which they loved, and liqueurs which seemed to the unsophisticated village - fathers ambrosia fit for the gods. The next day, when he was about to take - his departure, a small procession approached him and one of them bore on a - tray a little Chinese handleless cup covered with another. They said he - could speak Chinese, so there was no need for an interpreter, that he had - given them a very good time, they were very grateful, and they wished to - make him a present by which he might remember them sometimes. But their - village was poor and small. It contained nothing worth his acceptance, and - after much consultation, they had come to the conclusion that the best way - would be to present him with the money, <span class="pagenum">193</span><a - name="link193" id="link193"></a>so that he might buy something for himself - when he came to Peking or some other large town. Thereupon the cup was - presented, the cover lifted off, and in the bottom lay a ten cent piece, - worth about twopence halfpenny. Probably it seemed quite an adequate - present to men who count their incomes by cash of which a thousand go to - the dollar. - </p> - <p> - I don't think my landlady minded much my declining the hospitality - of her room. Possibly she only wished me to see its glories, and presently - she brought to the little room I had at first so despised, and now looked - upon, if not as a haven of rest, at least as one of fresh air, a couple of - nice hard wood stools, and a beautifully carved k'ang table thick - with grease. - </p> - <p> - “Say must make Missie comfortable,” said Tuan with the usual - suggestion he had done it himself. - </p> - <p> - And those stools were covered, much to my surprise, with red woollen - tapestry, and the pattern was one that I had seen used many a time in a - little town on the Staffordshire moors, where their business is to dye and - print. And here was one of the results of their labours, a “Wardle - rag,” as we used to call them, up among the hills of Northern China. - </p> - <p> - I was too tired to do anything but go to bed that night as soon as I had - had my dinner. I had it, as usual, on the k'ang table, the dirt - shrouded by my humble tablecloth, and curious eyes watched me, even as I - watched the trays of full basins and the trays of empty ones that were for - ever coming and going across the courtyard. - </p> - <p> - Next morning my friendly landlady brought to see me two other small-footed - women, both smoking <span class="pagenum">194</span><a - name="link194_rdquo_________id_" id="link194_rdquo_________id_"></a>long - pipes, women who said, through Tuan, their ages were forty and sixty - respectively, and who examined, with interest, me and my belongings. They - felt my boots so much, good, substantial, leather-built by Peter Yapp, - that at last I judged they would like to see what was underneath, and took - off a boot and stocking for their inspection, and the way they felt my - foot up and down as if it were something they had never before met in - their lives, amused me very much, At least at first it amused me, and then - it saddened me. Though they held out their own poor maimed feet, they did - not return the compliment much as I desired it. They took me across the - courtyard into another room where, behind lattice-work windows, that had - not been opened for ages, were two more women sitting on the k'ang, - and two little shaven-headed children. These were younger women, tall and - stout, with feet so tiny, they called my attention to them, that it did - not seem to me possible any woman could support herself upon them. My boy - was not allowed in, so of course I could not talk to them, could only - smile and drink tea. - </p> - <p> - These two younger women, who were evidently of superior rank, had their - hair most elaborately dressed and wore most gorgeous raiment. One was clad - in purple satin with a little black about it, and the other, a mere girl - of eighteen, but married, for her hair was no longer in a queue, and her - forehead was squared, wore a coat of pale blue silk brocade and - grass-green trousers of the same material. Their faces were impassive, as - are the faces of Chinese women of the better class, but they smiled, - evidently liked their tortured feet to be noticed, gave <span - class="pagenum">195</span><a name="link195" id="link195"></a>me tea from - the teapot on the k'ang table, and then presently all four, with the - gaily dressed babies, tottered out into the courtyard, the older women - leading the toddling children, and helping the younger, and, with the aid - of settles, they climbed into two Peking carts, my elderly friends taking - their places on the outside, whereby I judged they were servants or - household slaves. - </p> - <p> - “Chinese wives,” said Tuan, but whether they were the wives of - one man, or of two, I had no means of knowing. The costumes of the two - younger were certainly not those in which I would choose to travel on a - Chinese road in a Peking cart, but the Chinese have a proverb: “Abroad - wear the new, at home it does not matter,” so they probably thought - my humble mole-coloured cotton <i>crêpe</i>, equally out of place. - </p> - <p> - And when they were gone I set out to explore the town. - </p> - <p> - It was only a small place, built square, with two main roads running - north, and south, and east, and west, and cutting each other at right - angles in the heart of it. They were abominably paved. No vehicle but a - springless Peking cart would have dreamt of making its way across that - pavement, but then probably no vehicle save a cart or a wheelbarrow in all - the years of the city's life had ever been thought of there. The - remaining streets were but evil-smelling alley-ways, narrow in comparison - with the main ways which, anywhere else, I should have deemed hopelessly - inadequate, thronged as they were with people and encroached upon by the - shops that stood close on either side. They had no glass fronts, of - course, these shops, but otherwise, <span class="pagenum">196</span><a - name="link196" id="link196"></a>they were not so very unlike the shops one - sees in the poorer quarters of the great towns in England. But there was - evidently no Town Council to regulate the use to which the streets should - be put. The dyer hung his long strips of blue cloth half across the - roadway, careless of the convenience of the passer-by, the man who sold - cloth had out little tables or benches piled with white and blue calico—I - have seen tradesmen do the same in King's Road, Chelsea—the - butcher had his very disagreeable wares fully displayed half across the - roadway, the gentleman who was making mud bricks for the repair of his - house, made them where it was handiest in the street close to the house, - and the man who sold cooked provisions, with his little portable kitchen - and table, set himself down right in the fairway and tempted all-comers - with little basins of soup, fat, pale-looking steamed scones, hard-boiled - eggs or meat turnovers. - </p> - <p> - This place, hidden behind romantic grey walls, at which I had wondered in - the evening light, was in the morning just like any other city, Peking - with the glory and beauty gone out of it, and the people who thronged - those streets were just the poorer classes of Peking, only it seemed there - were more naked children and more small-footed women with elaborately - dressed hair tottering along, balancing themselves with their arms. I met - a crowd accompanying the gay scarlet poles, flags, musical instruments and - the red sedan chair of a wedding. The poor little bride, shut up in the - scarlet chair, was going to her husband's house and leaving her - father's for ever. It is to be hoped she would find favour in the - sight of her husband and <span class="pagenum">197</span><a name="link197" - id="link197"></a>her husband's women-folk. It was more important - probably, that she should please the latter. - </p> - <p> - The bridal party made a great noise, but then all in that town was noise, - dirt, crowding, and evil smells. The only peaceful place in it was the - courtyard of the little temple close against the city wall. Outside it - stand two hideous figures with hands flung out in threatening attitude, - and inside were more figures, all painted in the gayest colours. What they - meant I have not lore enough to know, but they were very hideous, the very - lowest form of art. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0286.jpg" alt="0286 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0286.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - There was the recording angel with a black face and the open book—after - all, the recording angel must often wear a black face—and there was - the eternal symbol that has appealed through all ages to all people, and - must appeal one would think above all, to this nation that longs so - ardently for offspring, the mother with the child upon her knee. But they - were all ugly to my Western eyes, and the only thing that charmed me was - the silence, the cleanliness, and the quiet of the courtyard, the only - place in all the busy little city that was at peace. - </p> - <p> - When I engaged Tuan I had thought he was to do all the waiting upon me I - needed, but it seems I made a mistake. The farther I got from Peking the - greater his importance became, and here he could not so much as carry for - me the lightest wrap. His business appeared to be to engage other people - to do the work. There was one dilapidated wretch to carry the camera, - another the box with the plates, and yet a third bore the black cloth I - would put over my head to focus my pictures properly. It was not a bit of - good protesting, two minutes after I got rid <span class="pagenum">198</span><a - name="link198" id="link198"></a>of one lot of followers, another took - their place, and as everyone had to be paid, apparently, I often thought, - for the pleasure of looking at me, I resigned myself to my fate. - </p> - <p> - Accompanied by all the idlers and children in the town I climbed the ramp - on to the walls, which are in perfect order, three miles round and on the - top from fifteen feet to twenty broad. That ramp must have been always - steep, the last thing a Chinese ever thinks about is comfort, steep almost - as the walls themselves, and everywhere the stones are gone, making it a - work of difficulty to climb to the top. Tuan helped me in approved Chinese - fashion, putting his hand underneath my elbow, and once I was there the - town was metamorphosed, it was again the romantic city I had seen from the - plain in the evening light. Now the early morning sunlight, with all the - promise of the day in it, fell upon graceful curved Chinese roofs and - innumerable trees, dainty with the delicate vivid verdure that comes in - the spring as a reward to a country where the winter has been long, - bitter, and iron-bound. - </p> - <p> - The walls of most Chinese cities are built square, with right angles at - the four corners, but in at least two that I have been in, T'ung - Chou and Pao Ting Fu, one corner is built out in a bow. I rather admired - the effect at first, till I found it was a mark of deepest disgrace. There - had been a parricide committed in the town. When such a terrible thing - occurs a corner of the city wall must be pulled down and built out; a - second one, another corner is pulled down and built out, and a third - likewise; but the fourth time such a crime is committed in the <span - class="pagenum">199</span><a name="link199" id="link199"></a>luckless town - the walls must be razed to the ground. But such a disgrace has never - occurred in any town in the annals of Chinese history, those age-long - annals that go back farther than any other nation's, for if a town - should be so unlucky as to have harboured four such criminals within its - walls they generally managed, by the payment of a sum of money, to get a - city that had some of its corners still intact to take the disgrace upon - itself. - </p> - <p> - I strongly suspect too, that it is only when the offender is in high - places that his crime is thus commemorated, for I have only heard of these - two cases, and yet as short a while ago as 1912 there was a terrible - murder in Pao Ting Fu that shocked the town. It appeared there was an idle - son, who instead of working for his family, spent all his time attending - to his cage bird, taking it out for walks, encouraging it to sing, hunting - the graves outside the town for insects for it. His poor old mother sighed - over his uselessness. - </p> - <p> - “If it were not for the bird!” said she. - </p> - <p> - The young blood in China, it seems, goes to the dogs over a cage bird, a - lark or a thrush, as the young man in modern Europe comes to grief over - horse-racing, so we see that human nature is the same all the world over. - This Chinese mother brooded over her boy's wasted life, and one day - when he was out she opened the cage door and the bird flew away. - </p> - <p> - When he came in he asked for the bird and she said nothing, only with her - large, sharp knife went on shredding up the vegetables that she was - putting into a large cauldron of boiling water for supper. He asked again - for the bird. Still she took no <span class="pagenum">200</span><a - name="link200" id="link200"></a>notice, and he seized her knife and slit - her up into small pieces and put her into the cauldron. He was taken, and - tried, and was put to death by slicing into a thousand pieces—yes, - even in modern China—but they did not think it necessary to pull - down another corner of the city wall. Possibly they felt the disgrace of a - bygone age was enough for Pao Ting Fu. - </p> - <p> - The corners of the walls of Tsung Hua Chou were as they were first built, - rectangular, and the watch-towers at those corners and over the four gates - from the distance looked imposing, all that they should be, but close at - hand I saw that they were tumbling into ruins, the doors were fallen off - the hinges, the window-frames were broken, all was desolate and empty. - </p> - <p> - “Once the soldier she watch here,” said my boy, whose pronouns - were always somewhat mixed. - </p> - <p> - “Why not now?” - </p> - <p> - “No soldier here now. She go work in gold mine ninety li away. Gold - mine belong Plesident.” - </p> - <p> - Tuan had got as far as the fact that a President had taken the place of - the Manchu Emperor, but I wondered very much whether the inhabitants of - Tsung Hua Chou had. I meditated on my way back to “Missie's - inn” on the limitations of the practical Chinese mind that because - it is practical, I suppose, cannot conceive of the liberty, equality, and - fraternity that a Republic denotes. The President, to the humble Chinese - in the street, has just taken the place of the Emperor, he is the one who - rules over them, his soldiers are withdrawn. That there was a war in - Mongolia, a rebellion impending in the south, were items of news that had - not reached <span class="pagenum">201</span><a name="link201" id="link201"></a>the - man in the street in Tsung Hua Chou who, feeling that the soldiers must be - put to some use, concluded they were working in the President's gold - mine ninety li away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0292.jpg" alt="0292 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0292.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - A foreigner went to a Chinese tailor the other day to make him a suit of - clothes, and he found occasion to complain that the gentleman's - prices had gone up considerably since he employed him last. The man of the - scissors was equal to the occasion, and explained that, since “revelations,” - so many Chinese had taken to wearing foreign dress, he was obliged to - charge more. - </p> - <p> - “You belong revolution?” asked the inquiring foreigner, - anxious to find out how far liberty, fraternity, and equality had - penetrated. - </p> - <p> - The tailor looked at him more in sorrow than in scorn. How could he be so - foolish. - </p> - <p> - “I no belong revelation,” he explained carefully, as one who - was instructing where no instruction should have been necessary. The thing - was self-evident, “I belong tailor man.” - </p> - <p> - When the revolution first dawned upon the country people all they realised—when - they realised anything at all—was that there was no longer an - Emperor, therefore they supposed they would no longer have to pay taxes. - When they found that Emperor or no Emperor taxes were still required of - them, they just put the President in the Emperor's place. I strongly - suspect that if the greater part of the inhabitants of my walled city were - to be questioned as to the revolution they would reply like the tailor: - “No belong revolution, belong Tsung Hua Chou!” - </p> - <p> - But in truth the civilisation of China is still so <span class="pagenum">202</span><a - name="link202" id="link202"></a>much like that of Babylon and Nineveh, - that it is best for the poor man, if he can, to efface himself. He does - not pray for rights as yet. He only prays that he may slip through life - unnoticed, that he may not come in contact with the powers that rule him, - for no matter who is right or who is wrong bitter experience has taught - him that he will suffer. - </p> - <p> - We do not realise that sufficiently in the West when we talk of China. We - judge her by our own standards. The time may come when this may be a right - way of judging, but it has not come yet. Rather should we judge as they - judged in the days of the old Testament, in the days of Nineveh and - Babylon, when the proletariat, the slaves, were as naught in the sight of - God or man. - </p> - <p> - A man told me how in the summer of 1912, travelling in the interior, he - came to a small city in one of the central provinces, a city not unlike - Tsung Hua Chou, like indeed a thousand other little cities in this realm - of Cathay. The soldiers quartered there had not been paid, and they had - turned to and looted the town. The unwise city men, instead of submitting - lest a worse thing happen unto them, had telegraphed their woes to Peking, - and orders had come down to the General in command that the ringleaders - must be executed. But no wise General is going to be hard on his own - soldiers. This General certainly was not. Still justice had to be - satisfied, and he was not at a loss. He sent a body of soldiers to the - looted shops, where certain luckless men were sadly turning over the - damaged property. These they promptly arrested. The English onlooker, who - spoke Chinese, declared to me solemnly these arrested men were the - merchants themselves, <span class="pagenum">203</span><a - name="link203_rdquo_________id_" id="link203_rdquo_________id_"></a>their - helpers and coolies. That was nothing to the savage soldiery. There had to - be victims. Had not the order come from the central government. Some of - the men, there were twenty in all, they beat and left dead on the spot, - the rest they dragged to the yamen. The traveller, furious and helpless, - followed. Of course the guilt of the merchants was a foregone conclusion. - They never execute anyone who does not confess his guilt and the justice - of his sentence in China, but they have means of making sure of the - confession. Presently out the unfortunate men came again, stripped to the - waist, with their arms tied up high behind them, prepared, in fact, for - death. The soldiers dragged them along, they protesting their innocence to - unheeding ears. Their women and children came out, running alongside the - mournful procession, clinging to the soldiers and to their husbands and - fathers, and praying for mercy. They tripped and fell, and the soldiers, - the soldiers in khaki, pushed them aside, and stepped over them, and - dragged on their victims. The traveller followed. No one took any notice - of him, and what could he do, though his heart was sore, one against so - many. Through the narrow, filthy streets they went, past their own looted - shops. They looked about them wildly, but there was none to help, and - before them marched the executioner, with a great sharp sword in his - hands, and always the soldiers in modern uniform emphasised the barbarity - of the crime. Presently they had distanced the wailing women and were - outside the walls, but the foreign onlooker was still with them. - </p> - <p> - “And one was a boy not twenty,” he said with <span - class="pagenum">204</span><a name="link204" id="link204"></a>a sharp, - indrawn breath, wiping his face as he told the ghastly tale. - </p> - <p> - They knelt in a row, just where the walls of their own town frowned down - on them, and one by one the executioner cut off their heads. The death of - the first in the line was swift enough, but, as he approached the end of - the row the man's arm grew tired and he did not get the last two - heads right off. - </p> - <p> - “I saw one jump four times,” said the shocked onlooker, - “before he died.” - </p> - <p> - And then they telegraphed to Peking that order had been restored, and the - ringleaders executed. - </p> - <p> - Since I heard that man's story, I always read that order has been - restored in any Chinese city with a shudder, and wonder how many innocents - have suffered. For I have heard stories like that, not of one city, or - told by one man, but of various cities, and told by different men. The - Chinese, it seems to me, copy very faithfully the European newspapers, the - great papers of the Western world. Horrors like that are never read in a - Western paper, therefore you never see such things reported in the Chinese - papers. After all they are only the proletariat, the slaves of Babylon or - Nineveh. Who counted a score or so of them slain? Order has been restored, - comes the message for the benefit of the modern world, and in the little - city the bloody heads adorn the walls and the bodies lie outside to be - torn to pieces by the <i>wonks</i> and the vultures. - </p> - <p> - And when I heard tales like this, I wondered whether it was safe for a - woman to be travelling alone. It is safe, of course, for the Chinaman, - strange as it may sound after telling such tales, is at bottom more - law-abiding than the average <span class="pagenum">205</span><a - name="link205" id="link205"></a>European. True, he is more likely to - insult or rob a woman than a man, because he has for so long regarded a - woman as of so much less consequence than a man, that when he considers - the matter he cannot really believe that any nation could hold a different - opinion. Still, in all probability, she will be safe, just as in all - probability she might march by herself from Land's End to John o' - Groats without being molested. She may be robbed and murdered, and so she - may be robbed and murdered in China. The Chinese are robbed and murdered - often enough themselves poor things. Also they do not suffer in silence. - They revenge themselves when they can. - </p> - <p> - A man travelling for the British and American Tobacco Company, he was a - young man, not yet eight-and-twenty, told me how, once, outside a small - walled town, he came upon a howling mob, and parting them after the lordly - fashion of the Englishman, who knows he can use his hands, he saw they - were crowding round a pit half filled with quicklime. In it, buried to his - middle, was a ghastly creature with his eyes scooped out, and the hollows - filled up with quicklime. - </p> - <p> - “If I had had a pistol handy,” said the teller of the tale, - “I would have shot him. I couldn't have helped myself. It - seemed the only thing to put him out of his misery, but, after all, I - think he was past all feeling, and I wonder what the people would have - done to me!” - </p> - <p> - They told him, when he investigated, that this man was a robber, that he - had robbed and murdered without mercy, and so, when he fell into their - hands, they had taken vengeance. <span class="pagenum">206</span><a - name="link206" id="link206"></a>Was that Babylon, or Nineveh, I wondered? - Since such things happen in China one feels that the age of Babylon and - Nineveh has not yet gone by. Talk with but a few men who have wandered - into the interior, and you realise the strong necessity for these walled - towns. - </p> - <p> - When the rumour of the slaughter of the Manchus, and the killing in the - confusion of eight Europeans at Hsi An Fu in Shensi in October 1911, - reached Peking, nine young men banded themselves together into the Shensi - Relief Force, and set out from the capital to relieve the missionaries cut - off there. One of these young men it was my good fortune to meet, and the - story of their doings, told at first hand, unrolled for me the leaves of - history. They set out to help the men and women of their own colour, but - as they passed west from Tai Yuan Fu, again and again, the people of the - country appealed to them to stop and help them. The Elder Brother Society, - the Ko Lao Hui were on the warpath, and, with whatever good intentions - this society had originated, it was, on this way from Tai Yuan Fu to Hsi - An Fu, nothing less than a band of robbers, pillaging and murdering, and - even the walled cities were hardly a safeguard. Village after village, - with no such defences, was wrecked, burned, and destroyed, and their - inhabitants were either slain or refugees in the mountains. And the - suffering that means, with the bitter winter of China ahead of them, is - ghastly to think of. They died, of course, and those who were slain by the - robbers probably suffered the least. - </p> - <p> - “What could we do? What could we possibly do?” asked my - informant pitifully. <span class="pagenum">207</span><a name="link207" - id="link207"></a>At last they came to Sui Te Chou, a walled city, and Sui - Te Chou was for the moment triumphant. It had driven off the robbers. The - Elder Brother Society had held the little city closely invested. They had - built stone towers, and, from the top of them, had fired into the city, - and at the defenders on the walls, and, under cover of this fire from the - towers, they had attempted to scale the battlements. But the people on the - walls had pushed them down with long spears, and had poured boiling water - upon them, and, finally, the robbers had given way, and some braves, - issuing from the south gate had fallen upon them, killing many and - capturing thirty of them. It was a short shrift for them, and a festoon of - heads adorned the gateway under which the foreigners passed. - </p> - <p> - But, though victorious, the braves of Sui Te Chou knew right well that the - lull was only momentary. They were reversing the Scriptural order of - things, and beating their ploughshares into swords. The brigands would be - back as soon as they had reinforcements, the battle would be to the strong - and it would indeed be “Woe to the Vanquished!” - </p> - <p> - “We could not help them. We could not,” reiterated the teller - of the tale sadly; “we just had to go on.” - </p> - <p> - It was old China, he said, let us hope the last of old China. In that town - were English missionaries, a man and his wife, another man and two little - children, members of the English Baptist Church, dressed in Chinese dress, - the men with queues. These they rescued, and took along with them, and - glad were they to have two more able-bodied men in the party, even though - they were counterbalanced <span class="pagenum">208</span><a - name="link208_rdquo_________id_" id="link208_rdquo_________id_"></a>by the - presence of the woman and two children, for everywhere along the track - were evidences of the barbaric times in which they lived. Human head? in - wicker cages were common objects of the wayside, and the wolves came down - from the mountains and gnawed at the dead bodies, or attacked the sick and - wounded. Old China was a ghastly place that autumn of 1911, during the - “bloodless” revolution. Chung Pu they reached immediately - after it had been attacked by six hundred men. - </p> - <p> - “I had to kick a dog away that was gnawing at a dead body as we led - the lady into a house for the night,” said the narrator. “I - could only implore her not to look.” - </p> - <p> - But at I Chün things were worse still. They reached it just as it had - fallen into the hands of the Elder Brother Society, and they began to - think they had taken those missionaries out of the frying-pan into the - fire. I Chün is a walled city up in the mountains of Shensi, and the only - approach was by a pathway so narrow that it only allowed of one mule - litter at a time. On one side was a steep precipice, on the other the city - wall, and along that wall came racing men armed with matchlocks, spears, - and swords, yelling defiance and prepared, apparently, to attack. The - worst of it was there was no turning that litter round. They halted, and - the gate ahead of them opened, and right in the centre of the gateway was - an ancient cannon with a man standing beside it with a lighted rope in his - hand. Turn the litter and get away in a hurry they could not. Leave it - they could not. There was seemingly no escape for them. It only wanted one - of those excited men to shout “Ta, Ta,” and the match <span - class="pagenum">209</span><a name="link209" id="link209"></a>could have - been applied, and the ancient gun would have swept the pathway. Then the - leader of the band of foreigners stepped forward. He flung away his rifle, - he flung away his revolver, he flung away his knife, and he stood there - before them defenceless, with his arms raised—modem civilisation - bowing for the moment before the force of Babylon. It was a moment of - supreme anxiety. Suppose the people misunderstood his actions. - </p> - <p> - “We scarcely dared breathe,” said the storyteller. Every heart - stood still. And then they understood. The man with the lighted rope - dropped it, and they beckoned to the strangers to come inside the gates. - </p> - <p> - It required a good deal of courage to go inside those gates, to put - themselves in the power of the Elder Brother Society, and they spent an - anxious night. The town had been sacked, the streets ran blood, the men - were slain, their bodies were in the streets for the crows and the <i>wonks</i> - to feed on, and the women—well women never count for much in China - in times of peace, and in war they are the spoil of the victor—the - Goddess of Mercy was forgotten those days in I Chün. All night long the - anxious little party kept watch and ward, and when day dawned were - thankful to be allowed to proceed on their way unmolested, eventually - reaching Hsi An Fu and rescuing all the missionaries who wished to be - rescued. - </p> - <p> - “It was exciting,” said my friend, half apologising for - getting excited over it. “It was the last of old China. Such things - will never happen again.” - </p> - <p> - Exciting! it thrilled me to hear him talk, to know such things had - happened barely a year before, to <span class="pagenum">210</span><a - name="link210" id="link210"></a>know they had happened in this country. - Would they never happen again? I was not so sure of that as I went through - walled town after walled town, as I looked up at the walls of Tsung Hua - Chou. This was the correct setting. To talk in friendly, commonplace - fashion to people who lived in such towns seemed to annihilate time, to - bring the past nearer to me, to make me understand, as I had never - understood before, that the people who had lived, and suffered, and - triumphed, or lived, and suffered, and fallen, were almost exactly the - same flesh and blood as I was myself. - </p> - <p> - Back at the inn my friend the landlady brought me her little grandson to - admire. He was a jolly little unwashed chap with a shaven head, clad in an - unwashed shift, and I think I admired him to her heart's content. It - was evidently worth having been born and lived all the strenuous weary - days of her hard life to have had part in the bringing into the world of - that grandson. His little sister in the blue-cornered handkerchief, - looking on, did not count for much, and yet she had her own feelings, for - when I clambered into my cart and was just rumbling over the step I was - startled by a terrified childish outcry. Looking back, I saw that a little - serving-maid, a slave probably, was running after my cart with the small - son and heir in her arms, making believe to give away the household - treasure to the foreign woman, with grandmother and subordinates looking - smilingly on. Only the little sister, who was not in the secret, was - shrieking lustily in protest. - </p> - <p> - I had been thinking of the cities in the plain of Mesopotamia! And this - carried me back to the <span class="pagenum">211</span><a - name="link211_rdquo_________id_" id="link211_rdquo_________id_"></a>days - of my own childhood and the hills round Ballarat! Many and many a time in - my young days have I seen the household baby offered to the “vegetable - John,” and the small brothers and sisters shrieking a terrified - protest. “They would be good, and love baby, and never be cross with - him any more.” Here was I taking the place of the smiling, bland, - John Chinaman of my childhood. After all human nature is much the same all - the world over, on the sunny hills of Ballarat, or in a walled city at the - foot of the mountains in Northern China. If we could but bridge the gulf - that lies between, I expect we should have found it just exactly the same - on the banks of the Euphrates and beneath the walls of Babylon. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—THE NINE DRAGON TEMPLE - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">212</span><a name="link212" id="link212"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The crossing of the Lanho—A dust storm—Dangers of a new inn—Locked - in—Holy mountain—Ruined city—My interpreter—A - steep hill—The barren woman—Unappetising food—The abbot—The - beggar—Burning incense—The beauty of the way.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e were fairly in - the mountains when we left Tsung Hua Chou. As we crawled along slowly, and - I trust with dignity, though dignity is not my strong point, I looked up - to the hills that towered above us, almost perpendicular they seemed in - places, as if the slope had been shorn off roughly with a blunt knife, and - I saw that one of these crags, that must have been about a thousand feet - above the valley bottom, anyhow it looked it in the afternoon sunlight, - was crowned by buildings; and not feeling energetic, nobody does feel - energetic who rides for long in a Peking cart, I thanked my stars that I - had not to go up there. I thought if it were the most beautiful temple in - the world I would not go up that mountain to visit it. Which only shows - that I did not reckon on my Chinese servant. There may be people who can - cope single-handed with the will of a Chinaman. I can't. I know now - that if my servant expresses a desire for a thing, he will only ask, of - course, for what is perfectly correct and good <span class="pagenum">213</span><a - name="link213" id="link213"></a>for his Missie, he will have it in the - end, so it is no good struggling; it is better to give in gracefully at - first. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> </a> - </p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0306.jpg" alt="0306 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0306.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - - <p> - As we neared a river, the Lanho, or I suppose I should say the Lan, for - “ho” means a river, the clouds began to gather for the first - time since I had set out on my journey, and it seemed as if it were going - to rain. - </p> - <p> - “Must make haste,” said Tuan looking up at the grey sky with - the clouds scurrying across it, and making haste in a Peking cart is a - painful process. - </p> - <p> - By the time we arrived at the river-banks it was blowing furiously, and a - good part of the country, as always seems to be the case in China when the - wind blows, was in the air. The river, wide and muddy and rather shallow, - was flowing swiftly along, and the crossing-place was just where the - valley was widest, and there was a large extent of sand on either bank, so - there was plenty of material for the wind to play with. It used it as if - it had never had a chance before and was bound to make the most of it. - There were many other people on that sandy beach, there were other Peking - carts, there were laden country carts with their heavily studded wheels - cut out of one piece of wood, looking like the wheels Mr Reed puts on his - prehistoric carts in <i>Punch</i>, there were laden donkeys and mules, - there were all the blue-clad people in charge of the traffic, and there - were tiny restaurants, rough-looking shacks where the refreshment of these - people was provided for. They weren't refreshing when I arrived, the - wind was blowing things away piecemeal, and every man seemed to be - grabbing something portable, or putting it down with a stone upon it to - anchor it. <span class="pagenum">214</span><a name="link214" id="link214"></a>"Must - make haste,” said Tuan again, as he helped me out of the cart, and - the wind got under my coat, tore at my veil, and succeeded in pulling down - some of my hair. - </p> - <p> - We had got beyond the region of bridges, I suppose in the summer the - floods come down and sweep them away, and everybody was crossing on a - wupan, a long, shallow, flat-bottomed boat that had been decked in the - middle to allow of carts being taken across. The mules were taken out, and - the carts with the help of every available man about, except the fat - restaurant-keeper, were got on the boat. - </p> - <p> - “Must make haste,” repeated Tuan, distributing with a liberal - hand my hard-earned cents. I used to think a cent or two in China didn't - matter, but I know by bitter experience they mount up. - </p> - <p> - And then just as we were all ready, my leading mule, a fawn-coloured - animal of some character, expressed his disapproval of the mode of transit - by a violent kick, and broke away. The dust was blowing in heavy clouds, - but every now and then I could see through the veil a dozen people racing - after him, while he kicked up his heels in derision, and in a fashion of - which I should not have thought any beast that had brought a Peking cart - so far over such roads was capable. Then a brilliant idea occurred to the - younger “cartee man.” He decided to mount the white mule that - led the other cart. This was a meek-looking beast who I presume always did - exactly as he was told; but a worm will turn, and to be ridden after all - the long journey was more than even he would stand. With a buck and a kick - he got rid of the “cartee man,” and then <span class="pagenum">215</span><a - name="link215" id="link215"></a>there were two mules careering about in - the wild dust storm. It looked highly probable that they would take - advantage of their liberty to go back to Peking, and I crossed that river - wondering very much how I was to get any farther on my journey, and - whether lost mules were a part of the just expenditure expected of a - foreign woman. After about two hours, however, they were brought in, the - fawn-coloured mule as perky as ever, but the white one so depressed by his - only taste of freedom that he never recovered as long as I had the - pleasure of his acquaintance. - </p> - <p> - Before we were on our way again the dust storm had subsided, and I was - shaking the mountains, or the Gobi Desert, or whatever it was, out of the - folds of my clothes and out of my hair and eyes, and Tuan was once more - urgent. - </p> - <p> - “Must make haste.” - </p> - <p> - But it was no good, we had lost too much time, we could not possibly reach - the little town we had planned to reach, and before the sun set we turned - into the yard of a little hostelry in a small mountain hamlet underneath - the holy mountain that was crowned with the temple I had been looking at - all the afternoon. - </p> - <p> - And then to my joy I found that this place was clean, actually clean!! Two - notes of exclamation do not do proper justice to it. The yard bore little - traces of occupation, the room I was shown into had a new blue calico - curtain at the door, it was freshly whitewashed, a clean mat was on the k'ang, - the wood that edged it was new, and there was clean tissue paper over the - lattice-work of the windows. The floor, of course, was only hard, beaten - earth, but that did not matter. I would sit on the k'ang, and <span - class="pagenum">216</span><a name="link216" id="link216"></a>besides this - place smelt of nothing but whitewash. I rejoiced exceedingly as I had the - paper torn off the top of the window to let in the fresh air, but Tuan - looked at it from another point of view. - </p> - <p> - “Must take care,” said he, “this new inn. 'Cartee - man' no know she. Must take care,” and he looked so grave that - I wondered what on earth was the penalty I ran the risk of paying for - cleanliness. - </p> - <p> - They evidently were afraid, for all the luggage, which as a rule stayed - strapped on the carts in the inn yard, was taken off and brought in. I was - worth robbing, for I had about seven-and-twenty pounds in dollars in my - black box, and that, judging by what I saw, would have bought up all the - villages between Jehol and Peking. However, it was no good worrying about - it, however agitated Tuan might be. Besides, anyhow he was something of a - coward, all Chinese servants are, it seems to me. - </p> - <p> - His fear didn't seem to last very long, for presently he came - bustling in, all excitement. - </p> - <p> - I was brushing my hair to try and get some of the dust out of it, and - reflecting there was possibly some reason in so many Chinese women being - bald. It must be much easier to keep a hairless head free from dust. - </p> - <p> - “Missie, Missie, innkeeper man, she say my Missie come in good time. - Nine Dragon Temple,” he pointed upwards, and I knew with a sinking - heart he meant the one I had watched all day and decided that to it I - would not go, “open one time for ten day, never in year open any - more,” and he looked at me to see his words sink in. They sank in - right enough. I knew I was going there, but still I protested. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot walk up that mountain.” - </p> - <p> - “No walk, Missie no walk, can get chair.” - </p> - <p> - Still I struggled. “It will cost too much money.” - </p> - <p> - “Three dollars, Missie, can do. Not spend much monies,” and he - looked at me as much as to say I would never let three dollars, about six - shillings, stand between me and a wonder that was only open for ten days - in the year, especially when I had arrived on the auspicious day. - </p> - <p> - “But what will you do, Tuan, <span class="pagenum">217</span><a - name="link217" id="link217"></a>I really cannot afford a chair for you,” - for I knew my follower on every occasion, even when I should have walked - made a point of riding. He looked at me, but I suppose he saw I had - reached the limit of my forbearance. His chest swelled out virtuously. - </p> - <p> - “I strong young man, I walk.” - </p> - <p> - I made another effort. “But the bottom of the mountain is a good way - off, how shall I get there?” - </p> - <p> - “I talkee 'cartee man,' he takee Missie two dollars.” - </p> - <p> - It was mounting up. I knew it would. - </p> - <p> - “But who will look after our things here?” - </p> - <p> - “One piecey 'cartee man,' stop,” said he airily. - So it was all arranged and I was booked for the Nine Dragon Temple whether - I liked it or not. Then there was the night to consider in this new inn, - the safety of which Tuan had doubted. In my room were all my possessions, - including the black box with the money in it, and I looked at the door and - saw to my dismay that there was no fastening on the inside. - </p> - <p> - “I take care Missie,” said Tuan loftily, and then <span - class="pagenum">218</span><a name="link218" id="link218"></a>proceeded to - instruct me in the precautions he had taken. - </p> - <p> - “Innkeeper man ask how long Missie stay and I say p'r'aps - five day, p'r'aps ten day. No tell true.” No tell true - indeed, for I had every intention of leaving next day even if I did have - to go up to the mountain temple in the morning. - </p> - <p> - Again I looked at the rough planks of the door coming down to the earthen - floor, and decided I would draw my heavy box across it, and I said so to - Tuan. - </p> - <p> - But he was emphatic, “I take care Missie,” I wonder if he - would have done so had there really been any danger. Then he bid me good - night and, going out, drew the door to after him and proceeded to lock it - on the outside! I presume he put the key in his pocket. Some papers have - honoured me by referring to me as a “distinguished traveller,” - and I have had hopes of being elected to the Royal Geographical Society! - For a moment I thought of calling him back indignantly, and then I thought - better of it. “A man thinks he knows,” says the Chinese - proverb, “but a woman knows better.” - </p> - <p> - The window was frail and all across the room, and I knew I could break the - lattice-work if I wanted to, so could the thief for that matter, so I - slept peacefully, the sleep of the utterly weary, and the innkeeper proved - an honest man after all. - </p> - <p> - And next day, after breakfast, just as the sun was rising, I started for - the Nine Dragon Temple. The peak which it crowned stood out from the rest - like a very acute triangle. They say the camera cannot lie, I only know I - did not succeed in getting a photograph of that mountain that gave any - idea of its steepness. Its slopes, faintly tinged with green and dotted - with fir-trees, fell away like the sides of a house from the narrow top - that was crowned with buildings. It was just one of the many holy - mountains that are scattered over China, and it seemed to me, looking up, - that nothing but a bird could reach it. But still I had to try. All the - country was bathed in the golden rays of the sun as I climbed into the - cart, and we made our way through a ruined city that must once have been - very rich and prosperous. Only the poorest of the poor apparently lived - among the ruins, and we went through a ruined gateway where no man watched - now, and over half-tilled fields, to the supplementary temple at the - bottom of the mountain. - </p> - <p> - Here Tuan blossomed forth wonderfully. Up till now he had only been my - servant, a most important servant but still a servant, now he became, on a - sudden, that much more important functionary, my interpreter. - </p> - <p> - A solemn old gentleman in a dark-coloured robe with a shaven head received - me with that perfect courtesy which it is my experience these monks always - show, escorted me into a large room with a k'ang on one side and a - figure of a god, large and gorgeous, facing the door. He asked me my age, - as apparently the most important question he could ask—it <i>is</i> - rather an important factor in one's life—and then when I was - seated on the k'ang, with my interpreter, in his very best clothes - of silk brocade, on the other, a variety of cakes in little dishes were - set on the k'ang table beside me, and a small shavenheaded little - boy who I was informed was called “Trees” was set to pour out - tea as long as I would drink it. I was so amused at the importance of - Tuan. Not for worlds would I have given him away as he sat there sipping - tea and nibbling at a piece of cake; and I wonder still what he thought I - thought. Did he fear I should call him to account for sitting down as if - he were on terms of equality with me? Did he think I was a fool, or was he - properly grateful that I allowed him this little latitude? At any rate, - except in the matter of squeeze, he always served me very well indeed, and - there is no doubt my dignity was enhanced by going about with a real, live - interpreter. The priest could not know what a very inadequate one he was. - </p> - <p> - Presently they came and announced that the chair was ready. - </p> - <p> - “Put on new ropes,” announced my interpreter pointing out the - lashings to me. The chair was fastened to a couple of stout poles and four - coolies, they might have been own brothers to the ones I had at the Ming - Tombs, lifted it to their shoulders and we were off. All the people who - dwelt in the little hamlet that clustered round the temple at the foot of - the mountain, hoary-headed old men, little, naked children, small-footed - women, peeped out and looked at the foreign woman as she passed on her - pilgrimage up the steep and narrow pathway, the first foreigner that had - passed up this way for some years, and probably the only one who would - pass up this year. It took a good many people to get me up, I noticed, it - wouldn't have been Tuan if it hadn't. There was his - all-important self of course, there was a man carrying my camera, another - one carrying my umbrella and a bundle of incense sticks, there were - various minor hangers-on in the shape of small boys, and there were, of - course, my four chair coolies. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0316.jpg" alt="0316 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0316.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0317.jpg" alt="0317 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0317.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - A Chinese chair is a most uncomfortable thing anyway, and this had - exaggerated the faults of its kind. Always it is so built that there is - not seat enough, while the back seems specially arranged to pitch the - unlucky occupant forward. It is bad enough in the ordinary way—going - up a mountain, and a very steep mountain, it is anathema, and coming down - it is beyond words. And this mountain was steep, its looks had not belied - it; never have I gone up such a steep place before, never, I devoutly - hope, shall I go up such a steep place again. The mountain fell away, and - I looked out into space on either side. I could see hills, of course, away - in the far distance, with a great gulf between me and them, rounded, - treeless hills with just a faint touch of green upon them, and the trees - on my own mountain, firs and pines with an occasional poplar, green and - fresh with the tender green of May time, stood up at an acute angle with - the hill-side above, and an obtuse angle below. The air was fresh, and - keen, and invigorating, and in the green grass grew bulbs like purple - crocuses, wild jessamine sweetly scented, and delicate blue wild - hyacinths, that in Staffordshire they call blue bells. I remember once in - a delightful wood in the Duke of Sutherland's grounds near - Stoke-on-Trent, that most sordid town of the Black Country, seeing the - ground there carpeted with just such blossoms as I saw here on the holy - mountain in China. - </p> - <p> - Up we went and up. There were stone steps put together without mortar, all - the way, and there were platforms every here and there, where the weary - <span class="pagenum">222</span><a name="link222" id="link222"></a>might - rest, and because the hill was so steep, these platforms were generally - made by piling up stones that looked as if a touch would send them rolling - to the bottom of the mountain, a step and one would be over oneself, for - there were no barriers. It was twelve li, four miles up, and the way was - broken by smaller temples dedicated to various gods, among them one to the - goddess who takes pity on barren women. This one was half-way up the - mountain, and here we met a small-footed woman toiling along with the aid - of a stick. Half-way up that cruel mountain she had crawled on her aching - feet, and every day she would come up, she told us, to burn incense at the - shrine. And she looked old, old. It would be a miracle indeed, I thought, - if she bore that longed-for child. Hope must be dying very hard indeed. - And yet she must have known. Poor thing, poor weary woman, what was the - tragedy of her life? Children, one would think, were a drug in the market - in China, they swarm everywhere. I burned an incense stick for her and - could only hope the God of Pity would answer her prayer, and take away her - reproach before men. - </p> - <p> - Up and up and up, and so steep it grew I was fain to shut my eyes else the - sensation that I would fall off into space would have been too much for - me. From the doorways of the wayside temples we passed through we looked - into space, and the mountains at the other side of the valley seemed - farther away than ever. A cuckoo called and called again “Cuckoo! - Cuckoo!” As we waited once a coolie passed with a bamboo across his - shoulder from which were slung two very modern kerosene tins—Babylon - and America meeting—and they told me there was no water on the - mountain, every drop had to be carried up; and then the men took up the - poles on their shoulders and tramped on again, and every time they changed - the pole from one shoulder to the other I felt I would surely fall off - into the valley, miles below. Up and up and up, they were streaming with - perspiration, and at last when it seemed to me we had arrived at the - highest point of the world, and that it was very like a needle-point, they - set down my chair at the bottom of the flight of steps that led up to the - entrance to the main temple, and the abbot and a crowd of monks stood at - the top to greet me. - </p> - <p> - They swarmed everywhere, it was impossible to estimate their numbers, - young men and old, all with shaven heads and dark, rusty red robes, and - then others, blind, and halt, and maimed, evidently pensioners on their - bounty. It seemed to me it could hardly be worth while to climb up so - steep a place for the small dole that was all the monks had it in their - power to give. It must have been so little, so little. They showed me the - shrine, a poor little shrine to one who had seen the wonders of the Lama - Temple in Peking. I took a picture of the abbot standing in front of it, - and they showed me their kitchen premises, where were great jars of - vegetables salted and in pickle, and looking most unappetising, but that - apparently, with millet porridge, was all they had to live on. - </p> - <p> - It was crowded, it was dirty, it was shabby, but there were great stone - pillars, eighteen of them, that they told me had been brought from a great - distance south of Peking, and had been carried up the mountain in the days - of the Mings, long before there were <span class="pagenum">224</span><a - name="link224" id="link224"></a>the steps, which were only put there a - little over a hundred years ago—quite recently for China. How they - could possibly get them up even now that there are four miles of steep - stone steps I cannot possibly imagine. Babylon! Babylon!! I shut my eyes - and saw the toiling slaves, heard the crack of the taskmaster's - whip, and the hopeless moan of the man who sank, crushed and broken, - beneath the burden. - </p> - <p> - The abbot bowed himself courteously over a gift of thirty cents which - Tuan, and I am sure he would not have understated it, said was the proper - <i>cumshaw</i>, and I bade them farewell and turned to go down that hill - again. The thought of it was heavy on my soul. Outside was a beggar, men - are close to starvation in China. The wretched, forlorn creature, with - wild hair and his nakedness hidden by the most disgusting rags, had - followed my train up all those four steep miles in the hope of a small - gift. For five cents he too bowed himself in deepest gratitude. It was a - gift I was ashamed of, but the important interpreter considered he had the - right to regulate these things, and he certainly led me carefully on all - other occasions. Then I looked at my chair and I looked at the steep steps - down which we must go. How could I possibly manage it without getting - giddy and pitching right forward, for going down would be much worse than - coming up had been. And then the men showed me that I must get in and be - carried down backwards. - </p> - <p> - Would they slip? I could but trust not. I was alone and helpless, days, - and they must have known it, from any of my own people. They might easily - have held me up and demanded more than the three dollars for which they - had contracted, but they did not. Patient, uncomplaining, as the - Babylonish slaves to whom I had compared them, they carried me steadily - and carefully from temple to temple all the way down, and at every altar - we stopped I sat and looked on, and Tuan burned incense sticks, the - officiating priest, he was very poor, dirty and shabby, struck a melodious - gong as the act of adoration was accomplished and Tuan, in all his best - clothes, knelt and knocked his head on the ground. I wondered whether I, - too, was not acquiring merit, for my money had bought the incense sticks, - and my money, it was only a trifling ten cents, paid the wild-looking - individual, with torn coat and unshaven head, who carried them up the - mountain. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0323.jpg" alt="0323 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0323.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0324.jpg" alt="0324 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0324.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Oh, but I had something—something that I cannot put into words—for - my pains; the something that made the men of five hundred years before - build the temple on the mountain top to the glory of God, my God and their - God, by whatever Name you choose to call Him. It was good to sit there - looking away at the distant vista, at the golden sunlight on the trees and - grass, at the shadows that were creeping in between, to smell the sensuous - smell of the jessamine, and if I could not help thinking of all I had lost - in life, of the fate that had sent me here to the Nine Dragon Temple, at - least I could count among my gains the beauty that lay before my eyes. - </p> - <p> - And when I reached the bottom of the mountain in safety, I felt I had - gained merit, for the men who had carried me so carefully were wild with - gratitude, and evidently called down blessings upon my head, because I - gave them an extra dollar. It pleased me, and yet saddened me, because it - seemed an awful thing that twenty-five cents apiece, sixpence <span - class="pagenum">226</span><a name="link226" id="link226"></a>each, should - mean so much to any man. Their legs ached, they said. Poor things, poor - things. Many legs ache in China, and I am afraid more often than not there - is no one to supply a salve. - </p> - <p> - So we came back to the little mountain inn in the glorious afternoon, and - the people looked on us as those who had made a pilgrimage, and Tuan - climbed a little way down from his high estate. He set about getting me a - meal, the eternal chicken, and rice, and stewed pear, and I looked back at - the mountain I had climbed and wondered, and was glad, as I am often glad, - that I had done a thing I need never do again. - </p> - <p> - Was there merit? For Tuan, let us hope, even though I did pay for the - incense sticks, for me, well I don't know. On the mountain I was - uplifted, here in the valley I only knew that the view from the high peak, - the vista of hill and valley, the greenness of the fresh grass on the - rounded, treeless hills, and the greenness of the springing crops in the - valley, the golden sunshine and the glorious blue sky of Northern China, - the sky that is translucent and far away, was something well worth - remembering. Truly it sometimes seems that all things that are worth doing - are hard to do. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—IN THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAINS - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">227</span><a name="link227" id="link227"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Etiquette of the Chinese cart—Ruined city—The building of - the wall—The advice of a mule—A catastrophe—The failing - of the Peking cart—Beautiful scenery—Industrious people—The - posters of the mountains—Inn yards—The heads of the people—Mountain - dogs—Wolves—A slum people—Artistic hands—“Cavalry”—The - last pass.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now we were on - the very borders of China proper. The road was simply awful, very often - just following the path of a mountain torrent. Always my cart went first, - and however convenient it sometimes seemed for the other cart to take - first place, it never did so. Suppose we turned down a narrow path between - high banks and found we were wrong and had to go back, the second cart - would make the most desperate effort and get up the bank rather than go - before me. Such is Chinese etiquette, and like most rules and customs when - one inquires into the reason of them, there is some sense at the bottom of - it. A Chinese road is as a rule terribly dusty and the second cart gets - full benefit of all the dust stirred up. - </p> - <p> - The day after we had been to the Nine Dragon Temple we passed through the - Great Wall at Hsing Feng K'ou, another little walled city. We had - spent the night just outside the ruined wall of an old city, a city that - was nearly deserted. There were <span class="pagenum">228</span><a - name="link228" id="link228"></a>the old gateways and an old bell tower, - even an old cannon lying by the gate, but more than half the people were - gone, and those who remained were evidently poor peasants, living there I - should say because building material was cheap, and eking out the - precarious existence of the poor peasant all over China. The hills were - very close down now and the valleys very narrow, and on a high peak close - to the crumbling walls was the remains of a beacon tower. Here by the - border they had need to keep sharp watch and ward. I suppose they have - nothing to fear now, or perhaps there is nothing to take, but in one - ruined gateway I passed through they were tending swine, and in another - they were growing melons. At least it would never be worth the raiders - while to gather and carry away the insipid melon of China. - </p> - <p> - The Wall is always wonderful. It was wonderful here even in its decay. The - country looked as if some great giant had upheaved it in great flat slabs, - raising what had been horizontal almost into the perpendicular. It would - have been impossible I should have thought for any man, let alone an - invading army, to cross there; there were steep grassy slopes on one side, - on the other the precipice was rough and impassable, and yet, on the very - top of the ridge, ran the wall, broken and falling into decay in some - places. I do not wonder that it has not been kept in repair, what I wonder - is that it was ever built. Tradition says they loaded goats with the - material and drove them to the top of the hills, but it seems to me more - likely they were carried by slaves. All the strenuous past lived for me - again as the sunlight touched the tops of the watch-<span class="pagenum">229</span><a - name="link229" id="link229"></a>towers and I saw how carefully they were - placed to command a valley. And that life is past and gone, the Manchus - have conquered and passed away, and the Mongols—well the Mongols - they say, when they come in contact with the Chinese, always beat them, - and yet it is the Chinese who, pushing out beyond the Wall, settle on and - till the rich Mongol pasture lands. There is now no need of the Wall, for - the Chinese, the timid Chinese have gone beyond it. - </p> - <p> - Inner Mongolia they call this country beyond the Wall, and worse and worse - got the road, sometimes it was between high banks, sometimes on a ledge of - the hills, sometimes it followed the course of a mountain torrent, but - always the general direction was the same, across or along a valley to - steep and rugged hills, hills sterile, stony, and forbidding, and through - which there seemed no possible way. There was always a way to the valley - beyond, but after we passed the Wall I considered it possible only for a - Peking cart, and by and by I came to think it was only by supreme good - luck that a Peking cart came through. There was a big brown mule in the - shafts of my cart, and the fawn mule led, so far away that I wondered more - than once whether he had anything to do with the traction at all, or - whether it was only his advice that was needed. He was a wise mule, and - when he came to a jumping-off place, with apparently nothing beyond it, he - used to pause and look round as much as to say: - </p> - <p> - “Jeewhicks!” you couldn't expect much refinement from a - Chinese mule, “this is tall No can do.” <span class="pagenum">230</span><a - name="link230_rdquo_________id_" id="link230_rdquo_________id_"></a>The - carter would jump down from his place on the tail of the shaft. He would - make a few remarks in Chinese, which, I presume, freely translated were: - </p> - <p> - “Not do that place? What 're yer givin' us? Do it on me - 'ed.” - </p> - <p> - Then the fawn-coloured mule would return to his work with a whisk of his - tail which said plainly as words: - </p> - <p> - “Oh all serene. You say can do. Well, I ain't in the cart, I - ain't even drawing the cart, and I ain't particular pals with - the gentleman in the shafts, so here goes.” - </p> - <p> - And the result justified the opinion of both. We did get down, but it - seemed to me a mighty narrow squeak, and I was breathless at the thought - that the experience must be repeated in the course of the next hour or so. - At first I was so terrified I decided I would walk, then I found it took - me so long—one mountain pass finished off a pair of boots—and - there were so many of them I decided I had better put my faith in the - mules if I did not wish to delay the outfit and arrive at Jehol barefoot. - But I never went up and down those passes without bated breath and a vow - that never, never again would I trust myself in the mountains in a Peking - cart. Still I grew to have infinite faith in the Peking cart. I was - bruised and sore all over, and I found the new nightgowns and chemises in - my box were worn into holes with the jolting, but I believed a Peking cart - could go anywhere, and then my confidence received a rude shock. - </p> - <p> - We came to a stony place, steep and stony enough in all conscience, but as - nothing to some of the places we had passed over, where there had been a - precipice on one side and a steep cliff on the other, and where to go over - would certainly have spelled grave disaster, but here there was a bank at - either side and the fawn-coloured mule never even looked round before - negotiating it. Up, up went one side of the cart, but I was accustomed to - that by this time, up, up, the angle grew perilous, and then over we went, - and I was in the tilt of the cart, almost on my head, and the brown mule - in the shafts seemed trying to get into the cart backwards. I didn't - see how he could, but I have unlimited faith in the powers of a Chinese - mule, so, amidst wild yells from Tuan and the carters, I was out on to the - hillside before I had time to think, and presently was watching those - mules make hay of my possessions. They didn't leave a single thing - either in or on that cart, camera, typewriter, cushions, dressing-bag, - bedding, all shot out on to what the Chinaman is pleased to consider the - road, even the heavy box, roped on behind, got loose and fell off, and the - mule justified my expectations by, in some mysterious way, breaking the - woodwork at the top of the cart and tearing all the blue tilt away. It - took us over an hour to get things right again, and my faith in the - stability of a Peking cart was gone for ever. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0332.jpg" alt="0332 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0332.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - We were right in the very heart of the mountains now, and the scenery was - magnificent, close at hand hills, sterile and stony, and behind them range - after range of other blue hills fading away into the bluer distance. Day - after day I looked upon a scene that would be magnificent in any land, and - here in China filled me with wonder. Could this be China, practical, - prosaic China, China of the ages, <span class="pagenum">232</span><a - name="link232" id="link232"></a>this beautiful land? And always above me - was the blue sky, always the golden sunshine and the invigorating, dry air - that reminded me, as I have never before been reminded, of Australia. - </p> - <p> - But, however desolate and sterile the hills, and they seldom had more than - an occasional fir-tree upon them, in the valleys were always people and - evidences of their handiwork in the shape of wonderfully tilled fields. - There are no fences, the Chinaman does not waste his precious ground in - fences, but between the carefully driven furrows there is never a weed, - and all day long the people are engaged turning over the ground so that it - will not cake, and may benefit by every drop of moisture that may be - extracted from the atmosphere. A little snow in the winter, a shower or - two in April, and the summer rains in July or August, are all this - fruitful land requires for a bountiful harvest, but I am bound to say it - is fruitful only because of the intense care that is given to it. No one - surely but a Chinese peasant would work as these people work. In every - valley bottom there is, according to its size, a town, perhaps built of - stones with thatched roofs, a small hamlet, or at least a farmhouse, - enclosed either behind a neat mud wall or a more picturesque one of the - yellow stalks of the kaoliang. And the people are everywhere, in the very - loneliest places far up on the hills I would see a spot of blue herding - black goats or swine, and on parts of the road far away from any - habitation, when I began to think I had really got beyond even the - ubiquitous Chinaman, we would meet a forlorn, ragged figure, an old man - past other work or a small boy with a bamboo across his shoulders and - slung <span class="pagenum">233</span><a name="link233" id="link233"></a>from - it two dirty baskets. With scoop in hand he was gathering the droppings of - the animals with which to make argol for fuel, for enough wood is not to - be had, and in this respect so industrious are the Chinese that their - roads are really the cleanest I have ever seen. - </p> - <p> - There were strangely enough here, in the heart of the mountains, signs of - foreign enterprise, for however desolate the place might seem, sooner or - later we were sure to come across the advertisements of the British - American Tobacco Company. There they would be in a row great placards - advertising Rooster Cigarettes, or Peacock Cigarettes or Purple Mountain - Cigarettes, half a dozen pictures, and then one upside down to attract - attention. I never saw the men who put them there, and I hate the blatant - advertisement that spoils the scenery as a rule. Here I greeted them with - a distinct thrill of pleasure. Here were men of my race and colour, doing - pioneering work in the out-of-the-way corners of the earth, and I - metaphorically made them a curtsy and wished them well, for no one knows - better than I do the lonely lives they lead. But they are bringing China - in touch with the outside world. - </p> - <p> - By and by we came to a place where carts were not seen, the people were - wiser than I, but there was a constant stream of laden mules and donkeys - bringing grain inside the wall. Long before I could see them I could hear - the jingling of the collar of bells most of them wore, and in an inn yard - we always met the train and saw them start out before us in the morning, - though we were early enough, I saw to that, often have I had my breakfast - before five o'clock, or coming in after we did in the <span - class="pagenum">234</span><a name="link234" id="link234"></a>dusk of the - evening. I objected to travelling in the dusk. I felt the roads held - pitfalls enough without adding darkness to our other difficulties. - </p> - <p> - The inns grew poorer and poorer as we got deeper into the mountains but - always I found in those inn yards something interesting to look at. By - night I was too weary to do anything but go to bed, but I generally had my - tiffin in a shady spot in a corner of the yard and watched all that was - going on. The yard would be crowded with animals, mules, and donkeys, and - always there were people coming and going, who thought the foreign woman - was a sight not to be missed. There have been missionaries here or in - Chihli for the last hundred years, so they must have seen foreign women, - but the sight cannot be a common one judging by the way they stared. There - would be well-to-do Chinamen riding nice-looking donkeys, still more - prosperous ones borne in litters by a couple of protesting mules, and in - every corner of the yard would be beasts eating. And all these beasts of - burden required numerous helpers, and the hangers-on were the most - dilapidated specimens of humanity I have ever seen, not nearly so sure of - a meal, I'm afraid, as the pigs and hens that wandered round - scavenging. There would be an occasional old woman and very, very seldom a - young one with large feet marking her as belonging to the very poorest - class, but mostly they were men dressed in blue cotton, faded, torn, - ragged, and yet patched beyond recognition. - </p> - <p> - “Patch beside patch is neighbourly,” says an old saw, “but - patch upon patch is beggarly.” The poor folks in the inn yards not - only had patch upon patch, but even the last patches were torn, and they - <span class="pagenum">235</span><a name="link235" id="link235"></a>looked - far more poverty-stricken than the children who played about this pleasant - weather wearing only their birthday dress. But they all had something to - do. An old man whose bald head must have required little shaving and whose - weedy queue was hardly worth plaiting, drew water from the well, another - who had adopted the modern style of dressing the hair gathered up the - droppings of the animals, a small boy with wild hair that no one had time - to attend to, and clad in a sort of fringe of rags, drove away the hideous - black sow and her numerous litter when she threatened to become a - nuisance, and from earliest dawn to dark there were men cutting chaff. The - point of a huge knife was fixed in the end of a wooden groove, one man - pushed the fodder into its position and another lifted the knife by its - wooden handle and brought it down with all his strength. Then he lifted - it, and the process was repeated. I have seen men at work thus, in the - morning before it was light enough to see, I have seen them at it when the - dusk was falling. There do not seem to be any recognised hours for - stopping work in China. And all the heads of these people were wild. If - they wore a queue it was dirty and unplaited, and the shaven part of their - heads had a week's growth of bristles, and if they were more modern - in their hair-dressing, their wild black hair stuck out all over the place - and looked as if it had originally been cut by the simple process of - sticking a basin on the head and clipping all the hairs that stood out - round it. But untidy heads of hair are not peculiar to the inn yard, they - are common enough wherever I have been in China. There were always - innumerable children in the yard, too, with heads <span class="pagenum">236</span><a - name="link236" id="link236"></a>shaven all but little tails of hair here - and there, which, being plaited stiffly, stood out like the headgear of a - clown, and there were cart men and donkey men, just peasants in blue, with - their blouses girt round their waists. There were the guests, too, - petticoated Chinese gentlemen, squires, or merchants, or well-to-do - farmers, standing in the doorways looking on, and occasionally ladies, - dressed in the gayest colours, with their faces powdered and painted, - peeped shyly out, half secretively, as if they were ashamed, but felt they - must take one look at the foreign woman who walked about as if she were - not ashamed of the open daylight, and was quite capable of managing for - herself. Sometimes I was taken to the women's quarters, where the - women-folk of the innkeeper dwelt, and there, seated on a k'ang, in - a room that had never been aired since it was built, I would find feminine - things of all ages, from the half-grown girl, who in England would have - been playing hockey, to the old great grandmother who was nursing the cat. - They always offered me tea, and I always took it, and they always examined - my dress, scornfully I am afraid, because it was only of cotton, and - wanted to lay their fingers in the waves of my hair, only I drew the line - at those dirty hands coming close to my face. At first it all seemed - strange, but in a day I felt as if I had been staying in just such inns - all my life. The farther one wanders I find the sooner does novelty wear - off. As a little girl, to go fifty miles from my home and to have my meals - off a different-patterned china gave me a delightful sense of novelty, and - to sleep in a strange bed kept me awake all night. Now in an hour—oh - far less—nothing feels new, not even the courtyard of a Chinese - mountain inn. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0340.jpg" alt="0340 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0340.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - I have never seen so many people with goitres. The missionaries at Jehol - told me it was very much dreaded, and that the people brought the - affliction upon themselves by flying into violent passions. I doubt very - much whether that is the origin of the goitre; but that it is very much - dreaded, I can quite believe. For not only does a goitre look most - unsightly, but the unfortunate possessor must always keep his head very - straight, for if he lets it drop forward, even for a moment, he closes the - air passages, and is in danger of suffocating. I have heard it is brought - on by something in the water. Water, of course, I never dared drink in - China. I saw very pleasant, clear-looking, liquid drawn up from the wells - in those inn courtyards in closely plaited buckets of basket-work, but I - never ventured upon it. I always remembered Aunt Eliza: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “In the drinking well - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Which the plumber built her, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Aunt Eliza fell. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - We must buy a filter.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Aunt Eliza's cheerful, if somewhat callous, legatees had some place - where they could buy a filter, I had not, besides, I am sure, all the - filters in the world could not make safe water drawn from a well in a - Chinese inn yard, so I drank tea, which necessitates the water being - boiled. - </p> - <p> - The Chinese build their wells with the expectation of someone, not - necessarily Aunt Eliza, coming to grief in them. On one occasion a man of - my acquaintance was ordering a well to be made in his yard, and he - instructed the well-sinker that he need <span class="pagenum">238</span><a - name="link238" id="link238"></a>not make it, as the majority of Chinese - wells are made, much wider at the bottom than at the top. But the workman - shook his head. - </p> - <p> - He must make it, he said, wide enough at the bottom for a man—or - woman, they are the greatest offenders—to turn round if he flung - himself in. He might change his mind and want to get out again, and if a - body were found in a well not roomy enough to allow of this change of - mind, he, the builder, would be tried for murder. - </p> - <p> - This thoughtful consideration for the would-be suicide, who might wish to - repent, is truly Chinese. Personally I doubt very much whether anyone - would take the trouble to investigate the bottom of a well. There might - easily be something very much worse than Aunt Eliza in it. Presumably she - was a well-to-do, and therefore a clean old lady, while the frequenters of - those yards were beyond description. - </p> - <p> - The people in the little towns, and more especially those in the lonely - farm-houses which looked so neat and well-kept in contrast with the - ragged, dirty objects that came out of them, kept a most handsome breed of - dogs. Sometimes they were black and white, or grey, but more often they - were a beautiful tawny colour. They were, apparently, of the same breed as - the <i>wonks</i> that infest all Chinese towns, but there was the same - difference between these dogs and the <i>wonks</i> as there is between a - miserable, mangy mongrel and the pampered beast that takes first prize at - a great show. Indeed, I should like to see these great mountain dogs at a - show, I imagine they would be hard to beat. They looked very fierce, - whether they are or not I don't know, because I always gave them a - wide berth, and <span class="pagenum">239</span><a name="link239" - id="link239"></a>Tuan, the cautious, always shook his head when one came - too close, called to someone else with a stick to drive it away, and - murmured his usual formula: “Must take care.” They told me - there were wolves among these mountains, and I can quite believe it, - though I never saw one. In the dead of winter they are fierce and - dangerous, and much dreaded. They come into the villages, steal the - helpless children, will make a snap at a man in passing and inflict - terrible wounds. A Chinaman will go to sleep in all sorts of uncomfortable - spots, and more than one has been wakened by having half the side of his - face torn away. Of such a wound as this the man generally dies, but so - many are seen who have so suffered, and gruesome sights they are, that the - wolves must be fairly numerous and exceedingly bold. They take the - children, too, long before the winter has come upon the land. There was a - well-loved child, most precious, the only son of the only son, and his - parents and grandparents being busy harvesting they left him at home - playing happily about the threshold. When they came back, after a short - absence, they found he had been so terribly mauled by a wolf that shortly - after he died, and the home was desolate. And yet these wolves are very - difficult to shoot. - </p> - <p> - “I have never seen one,” a man told me. “Again and - again, when I was in the mountains, the villagers would come complaining - of the depredations of a wolf. I could see for myself the results of his - visit, but never, never have I found the wolf. It seems as if they must - smell a gun.” - </p> - <p> - When first I heard of the wolves I laughed. I was so sure no beast of prey - could live alongside <span class="pagenum">240</span><a - name="link240_rdquo_________id_" id="link240_rdquo_________id_"></a>a - Chinaman, the Chinaman would want to eat him. - </p> - <p> - “They would if they could catch him,” said my friend, “but - they can't, though the majority of the population are on the - look-out for him. There is nothing of the hunter about the Chinaman.” - </p> - <p> - “Meat!” said a wretched farmer once, rubbing his stomach, when - the missionaries fed him during a famine. He couldn't remember when - he had tasted meat, and not in his most prosperous year had he had such a - feast as his saviours had given him then. - </p> - <p> - “How much do you make a year?” asked the missionary. - </p> - <p> - He thought a little and then he said that, in a good year, he perhaps made - twelve dollars, but then, of course, all years were not good years. But - we, on our part, must remember that these people belong to another age, - and that the purchasing power of the dollar for their wants is greater - than it is with us. - </p> - <p> - Very, very lonely it seems to me must these mountain villages be when the - frost of winter holds the hills in its grip, very shut out from the world - were they now in the early summer, and very little could they know of the - life that goes on within the Wall, let alone in other lands. Indeed there - are no other lands for the Chinese of this class, this is his country, and - this suffices for him, everybody else is in outer barbarism. - </p> - <p> - Steeper and steeper grew the hills, more and more toilsome the way, and - the people, when we stopped, looked more and more wonderingly at the - stranger. At one place, where I had tiffin, I shared the room and the k'ang, - the sun was so hot and there was no shade, so I could not stay outside, - with six women <span class="pagenum">241</span><a - name="link241_rdquo_________id_" id="link241_rdquo_________id_"></a>of all - ages, two had babies that had never been washed, two had hideous goitres, - and all had their hair gathered into long curved horns at the back. There - was also on the floor, a promising litter of little pigs, and three - industrious hens. The women's blue coats were old, torn, patched, - soiled, and yet——oh the pity of it, these women, who had to - work hard for their living, work in the fields probably, had their feet - bound. One had not, but all the rest were maimed. Two of them had their - throats all bruised, and I wondered if they had been trying to hang - themselves as a means of getting away from a life that had no joy in it, - but I afterwards found that with two coins, or anything else that will - serve the purpose, coins are probably rather scarce, they pinch up the - flesh and produce these bruises as a counter-irritant, and, ugly as it - looks, it is often very effective. - </p> - <p> - These should have been country people, if ever any people belonged to the - country, and then, as I looked at them, the truth dawned on me. There are - no country people in the China I have seen, as I from Australia know - country people, the men of the bush. They—yes—here in the - mountains, are a people of mean streets, a slum people, decadent, the very - sediment of an age-long civilisation. I said this to a man who had lived - long in China and spoke the language well, and he looked at me in - surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Why,” he said, “they all seem to me country people. The - ordinary people of the towns are just country yokels.” - </p> - <p> - But we meant exactly the same thing. I looked at the country people I had - known all my life, the capable, resourceful pioneers, facing new - conditions, <span class="pagenum">242</span><a name="link242" id="link242"></a>breaking - new ground, ready for any emergency, the men who, if they could not found - a new nation, must perish; he was looking at the men from sleepy little - country villages in the old land, men who had been left behind in the - race. And so we meant exactly the same thing, though we expressed it in - apparently opposing terms. These people are serfs, struggling from dawn to - dark for enough to fill their stomachs, toiling along a well-worn road, - without originality, bound to the past, with all the go and initiative - crushed out of them. As their fathers went so must they go, the evils that - their fathers suffered must they suffer, and the struggle for a bare - existence is so cruelly hard, that they have no hope of improving - themselves. - </p> - <p> - It was all interesting, wonderful, but I do not think ever in the world - have I felt so lonely. I longed with an intense longing to see someone of - my own colour, to speak with someone in my own tongue. - </p> - <p> - I don't know that I was exactly afraid, and yet sometimes when I saw - things that I did not understand, I wondered what I should do if anything - did happen. Considering the way some people had talked in Peking, it would - have been a little surprising if I had not. Once we came upon a place - where the side of the road was marked with crosses in whitewash and I - wondered. I remembered the stories I had heard of the last anti-Christian - outbreak, and I wondered if those crosses had anything to do with another. - It all sounds very foolish now, but I remember as cross after cross came - into view I was afraid, and at last I called Tuan and asked him what they - meant. - </p> - <p> - “Some man,” said he, “give monies mend road, <span - class="pagenum">243</span><a name="link243" id="link243"></a>puttee white - so can see where mend it.” And that was all! But what that road was - like before it was mended I cannot imagine! - </p> - <p> - At last, after a wearying day's journey of one hundred and twenty - li, or forty miles, over the roughest roads in the world, we came in the - evening sunlight upon a long line of grunting, ragged camels just outside - a great square gate enclosed in heavy masonry, and we were at Pa Kou, as - it is spelt by the wisdom of those who have spelled Chinese, but it is - pronounced Ba Go. It is a city or rather a long street, twenty li or - nearly seven miles long, and the houses were packed as closely together in - that street as they are in London itself. The worst of the journey, Tuan - told me, was over. There was another range of mountains to cross, we had - been going north, now we were to go west, it would take us two days and we - would be in Jehol. - </p> - <p> - And here, for the first time, the authorities took notice of me. The first - inn we stopped at was dirty, and Tuan went on a tour of inspection to see - if he could not find one more to his Missie's liking, and I sat in - my cart and watched the crowded throng, and thought that never in my life - had I been so tired—I ached in every limb. If the finding of an inn - had depended on me I should simply have gone to sleep where I was. At last - it was decided there was none better, and into the crowded and dirty yard - we went, and I, as soon as my bed was put up, had my bath and got into it, - as the only clean place there was, besides I was too tired to eat, and I - thought I might as well rest. - </p> - <p> - But I had been seen sitting in the street, and the Tutuh of the town, the - Chief Magistrate, sent his <span class="pagenum">244</span><a - name="link244" id="link244"></a>secretary to call upon the “distinguished - traveller” and to ask if she, Tuan, who never could manage the - pronouns, reported it as “he,” had a passport. The “distinguished - traveller” apologised for being in bed and unable to see the great - man's secretary, and sent her servant—I noticed he put on his - best clothes, so I suppose he posed as an interpreter—to show she - had a passport all in order. He came back looking very grave and very - important. - </p> - <p> - “She say must take care, plenty robber, must have soldier.” - </p> - <p> - Here was a dilemma. I had heard so much about the robbers of China, and - the robbers of China are by no means pleasant gentlemen to meet. A robber - band is not an uncommon thing, but is more dangerous probably, to the - people of the land than to the foreigner, for here in the north the lesson - of 1900 has been well rubbed in. It is a dangerous thing to tackle a - foreigner. Dire is the vengeance that is exacted for his life. Still I - wasn't quite comfortable in my own mind. I thought of the mighty - robber White Wolf, who ravaged Honan, of whom even the missionaries and - the British American Tobacco Company are afraid. On one occasion two - missionaries were hunted by his band and driven so close that, as they lay - hidden under a pile of straw, a pursuer stood on the shoulder of one of - them. He lay hardly daring to breathe and the robber moved away without - discovering their hiding-place. Afterwards, however, they did fall into - the hands of White Wolf, who, contrary to their expectations, courteously - fed them and set them on their way. Of course, they had nothing of which - to be despoiled, and it was their good-fortune to fall into <span - class="pagenum">245</span><a name="link245" id="link245"></a>the hands of - the leader himself, who knows a little of the world, and something of the - danger of attacking a foreigner. The danger had been that they might fall - into the hands of his men, his ignorant followers, who, in their zeal, - would probably kill them, perhaps with torture, and report to the chief - later on. This happened after I had been to Jehol, but, of course, I had - heard of White Wolf. I knew his country was farther to the south in the - more disturbed zone, and I did not expect to meet robbers here. Still I - had the Tutuh's word for it that here they were. - </p> - <p> - If you are going to have any anxiety in the future, I have come to the - conclusion it is just as well to be dead tired. I couldn't do - anything, and I was utterly tired out. I had been in the open air all day - since five o'clock in the morning, I was safe, in all probability, - for the night, and robbers or no robbers, I felt I might as well have a - sound night's rest and see what the situation looked like in the - morning. I heard afterwards there were missionaries in the town, and had I - known it, I might have sought them out and taken counsel with men of my - own colour, but I did not know it. - </p> - <p> - “Must have soldier,” repeated Tuan emphatically, standing - beside my camp bed. “How many soldier Missie want?” - </p> - <p> - I had heard too many stories of Chinese soldiers to put much reliance on - them as protectors. I didn't know offhand how many I wanted. I was - by no means sure that I wouldn't be just as safe with the robbers. - One thing was certain, I couldn't go back within two days of my - destination, besides for all I knew, the robbers were behind me. - </p> - <p> - I put it to Tuan. <span class="pagenum">246</span><a - name="link246_rdquo_________id_" id="link246_rdquo_________id_"></a>"Suppose - I have no passport, what the Tutuh do then?” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” said my henchman emphatically, “he no care - robber get Missie.” - </p> - <p> - Evidently the Tutuh meant well by me, so I said they might send a soldier - for me to look at, at six o'clock next morning and then I would - decide how many I would have, and feeling that at least I had eleven hours - respite, I turned over and went to sleep. - </p> - <p> - Punctually the soldier turned up. He was a good-tempered little man, all - in blue a little darker than the ordinary coolie wears, over it he had a - red sleeveless jacket marked with great black Chinese characters, back and - front, a mob cap of blue was upon his head, over his eyes a paper - lampshade; he had a nice little sturdy pony, and, for all arms, a fly - whisk! - </p> - <p> - I didn't feel I could really be afraid of him, and I strongly - suspected the robbers would thoroughly agree with me. - </p> - <p> - “What's he for?” I asked Tuan. - </p> - <p> - That worthy looked very grave. “Must take care,” he replied - with due deliberation. “Plenty robber. She drive away robber. How - many soldier Missie have?” - </p> - <p> - Well there was nothing for it but to face the danger, if danger there was. - I don't know now if there was any. It is so difficult to believe - that any unpleasant thing will happen to one. Again I reflected that there - is no danger in China till the danger actually arrives, and then it is too - late. What my guardian was to drive away robbers with I am sure I don't - know, for I cannot see that the fly whisk would have been very effective. - The “cartee men” were perfectly willing to go on, so I said I - thought this warrior would be amply sufficient for all purposes, and we - started. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0352.jpg" alt="0352 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0352.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Everybody in Pa Kou keeps a lark, I should think, and every one of those - larks were singing joyously as we left the town. Never have I heard such a - chorus of bird song, and the morning was delightful. My guardian rode - ahead, and for three hours as we jolted over the track, I kept a look-out - for robbers, wondered what they would be like, and what I should do when - we met, but the only things I saw were bundles of brushwood for the - kitchen fires of Pa Kou, apparently walking thitherward on four donkey - legs. They reassured me, those bundles of brushwood, they had such a - peaceful look. Somehow I didn't think we were going to meet any - robbers. - </p> - <p> - Evidently Tuan and the “cartee men” came to the same - conclusion, for, at the end of three hours, they came and said the soldier - must be changed, did Missie want another? Missie thought she didn't, - and the guard was dismissed, his services being valued at twenty cents. It - was plenty, for he came, with beaming face, and bowed his thanks. - </p> - <p> - That was the only time I had anything to do with soldiers on the journey, - and I forgot all about him, hieroglyphics, lampshade, fly whisk, and all, - till I found entered in the accounts, Tuan was a learned clerk and kept - accounts: “Cavalry, twenty cents.” - </p> - <p> - Then I felt I had had more than my money's worth. - </p> - <p> - The last night of my journey I spent at Liu Kou, the sixth valley, and the - next morning the men made <span class="pagenum">248</span><a - name="link248_rdquo_________id_" id="link248_rdquo_________id_"></a>tremendous - efforts to hide all trace of the disaster that had befallen us on the way. - I said it didn't matter, it could wait till we got to Jehol, but - both Tuan and the “cartee men” were of a different opinion. - Apparently they would lose face if they came to their journey's end - in such a condition, and I had to wait while the cloth was taken off the - back of the cart, and carefully put on in front, so that the broken wood - was entirely concealed. Then, when everybody was satisfied that we were - making at least a presentable appearance, we started. You see, I never - appreciated the situation properly. To travel in a cart seemed to me so - humble a mode of progression, that it really did not matter very much - whether it were broken or not, indeed a broken cart seemed more to me like - going the whole hog, and roughing it thoroughly while we were about it. - But with the men it was different, a cart was a most dignified mode of - conveyance, and to enter a big town in a broken one was as bad as - travelling in a motor with all the evidences of a breakdown upon it, due - to careless driving. And when I saw their point of view, of course I at - once sat down on some steps and watched an old man draw water, and a - disgusting-looking sow, who made me forswear bacon, attend to the wants of - her numerous black progeny. - </p> - <p> - Tuan passed the time by having a heated argument with the landlord. The - fight waxed furious, as I was afterwards told, regarding the hot water I - had required for my bath, which was heated in a long pipe, like a copper - drain-pipe, that was inserted in a hole by the k'ang fire. Fuel is - scarce, and stern necessity has seen to it that these people get the <span - class="pagenum">249</span><a name="link249" id="link249"></a>most they - possibly can out of a fire. I hope Than paid him fairly, but of course I - do not know, I parted with a dollar for the night's lodging and the - little drop of hot water, for otherwise we carried our own fuel—charcoal—bought - our provisions and cooked for ourselves, but we left that landlord - protesting at the gate that he would never put up another foreigner. - </p> - <p> - That last day's journey was, I think, the hardest day of all, or - perhaps it was that I was tired out. There was a long, long mountain to be - got over, the Hung Shih La, the Red Stone Rock, and we crossed it by a - pass, the worst of many mountain passes we had come across. We climbed up - slowly to the top and there was a tablet to the memory of the man who had - repaired the road. What it was like before it was repaired I can't - imagine, or perhaps it was not done very recently, say within a couple of - hundred years, for the road was very bad. There is only room for one - vehicle, and the carters raised their voices in a loud singsong, to warn - all whom it might concern that they were occupying the road. What would - happen if one cart entered at one end and another at the other I am sure I - cannot imagine, for there seemed to be no place that I could see where - they could pass each other, and I think it must be at least three steep - miles long. I did not trust the carts. I walked. My faith in a Peking cart - and mule had gone for ever, and if we had started to roll here, it seemed - to me, we should not have stopped till we reached America or Siberia at - least. So every step of the way I walked, and Tuan would have insisted - that the carts come behind me. But here I put my foot down, etiquette or - no etiquette I insisted they should go in front. I felt <span - class="pagenum">250</span><a name="link250" id="link250"></a>it would be - just as bad to be crushed by a falling cart as to be upset in it, so they - went on ahead, and when we met people, and we met a good many on foot, - Tuan called out to them and probably explained that such was the foolish - eccentricity of his Missie that, though she was rich beyond the dreams of - avarice, and always travelled with two carts, she yet insisted upon - walking down all the passes. - </p> - <p> - It was worth it too, for the view was glorious, the sunlight, the golden - sunlight of a Chinese afternoon, fell on range after range of softly - rounded hills, the air was so clear that miles and miles away I could see - their folds, with here and there a purple shadow, and here and there the - golden light. And over all was the arc of the blue sky. Beautiful, most - beautiful it was, and I was only regretful that, like so many of the - beautiful things I have seen in life, I looked on it alone. I shall never - look on it again. The journey is too arduous, too difficult, but I am - glad, very glad indeed, that I have seen it once. - </p> - <p> - But it was getting late. At the bottom of the pass I got into my cart, and - was driven along a disused mountain torrent that occupied the bed of the - valley under a line of trees just bursting into leaf. The shadows were - long with the coming night, and at last we forded a shallow river and came - into the dusty, dirty town of Cheng Teh Fu, an unwalled town beyond which - is Jehol, the Hunting Palace of the Manchu Emperors. - </p> - <p> - Here there were thousands of soldiers, not like my “cavalry,” - but modern, khaki-clad men like those in Peking, gathered together to go - against the Mongols, for China was at war, and apparently was <span - class="pagenum">251</span><a name="link251" id="link251"></a>getting the - worst of it, and the air was ringing with bugle calls. - </p> - <p> - And then Tuan and I had an argument. He wanted me to go to an inn. The - streets were dusty, dirty, evil-smelling, I was weary to death, my dress - had been rubbed into holes by the jolting of the cart, and my flesh - rebelled at the very thought of a Chinese inn. But what was I to do? There - were no Europeans in Jehol save the missionaries, and I was so very sure - it was wasted labour to try and convert the Chinese it seemed unfair to go - to the mission station. - </p> - <p> - And then I suddenly felt I must speak to someone, must hear my own tongue - again, must be sympathised with, by a woman if possible, and in spite of - the protests of Tuan who saw all chance of squeeze at an end, I made them - turn the mules' heads to the mission. - </p> - <p> - There a sad, sweet-faced woman gave me, a total stranger, the kindest and - warmest of welcomes, and I paid off the “cartee men.” For - sixty dollars they had brought me two hundred and eighty miles, mostly - across the mountains, they had been honest, hard-working, attentive, - patient, and good-tempered, and for a <i>cumshaw</i> of five dollars they - bowed themselves to the ground. I know they got it, because I took the - precaution to pay them myself, and as I watched them go away down the - street I made a solemn vow that never again would I travel in the - mountains, and never, never again would I submit myself to the tender - mercies of a Peking cart. It is one of the things I am glad I have done, - but I am glad also it is behind me with no necessity to do again. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—TO THE GREEKS, FOOLISHNESS - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">252</span><a name="link252" id="link252"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Missionary compound—Prayer—Reputed dangers of the way—The - German girl—Midwife—The Bible as a guide—“My yoke - is easy, My burden is light”—A harem—Helping the sick - and afflicted—A case of hysteria—Drastic remedies—Ensuring - a livelihood—“Strike, strike”—Barbaric war-song—The - Chinese soldier—The martyrdom of the Roman Catholic priest.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd with my - entrance into that missionary compound I entered a world as strange to me - as the Eastern world I had come across two continents to see. - </p> - <p> - The compound is right in the heart of the town, and was originally a - Chinese inn, built, in spite of the rigour of the climate, Chinese - fashion, so that to go from one room to the other it was necessary to go - out of doors. The walls looking on to the street were blank, except in the - room I occupied, where was a small window, so high up I could not see out - of it. How it must be to pass from one room to the other when the bitter - winter of Northern China holds the mountains in its grip, I do not know. - </p> - <p> - I walked in out of the unknown and there came forward to meet me that - sad-looking woman with the soft brown eyes and bright red lips. Take me - in, yes, indeed she would take me in. I was dusty, I was torn, and I think - I was more weary than I <span class="pagenum">253</span><a - name="link253_rdquo_________id_" id="link253_rdquo_________id_"></a>have - ever been in my life, and she made me welcome, made me lie down in a long - chair, and had tea brought in. A tall buxom German girl entered, and then - to my surprise, and not a little to my discomfort, my hostess bowed her - head, and thanked God openly that I had come through the dangers of the - way, and been brought safely to their compound! For a moment it took my - breath away, and so self-conscious was I, that I did not know which way to - look. My father was a pillar of the Church of England, Chancellor of the - Diocese in which we lived, and I had been brought up straitly in the fold, - among a people who, possibly, felt deeply on occasion, but who never, - never would have dreamt of applying religion personally and openly to each - other. Frankly I felt very uncomfortable after I had been prayed over, and - it seemed a sort of bathos to go on calmly drinking tea and eating bread - and jam. The German girl had just arrived, and they heard that the day - after she had left Peking, the German Consul had sent round to the mission - station, where she had been staying, to cancel her passport, and to say - that on no account must she go to Jehol as the country was too disturbed. - However she and her escort, one of the missionaries, had come through - quite safely, and the Tartar General in charge here had said she might - stay so long as she did not go outside the boundaries of the town. But - naturally, they were much surprised to see me, a woman and alone. - </p> - <p> - I looked round the room, the general sitting-room, a bare stone-floored - room, with a mat or two upon it, a little cane furniture, a photograph or - two, and some texts upon the walls, a harmonium, a <span class="pagenum">254</span><a - name="link254" id="link254"></a>couple of tables, and a book-case - containing some very old-fashioned books, mostly of a religious tendency, - and some stories by A.L.O.E. There was a time when I thought A.L.O.E's - stories wonderful, and so I read one or two of them while I was here, and - wondered what it was that had charmed me when I was eleven. - </p> - <p> - The only other woman in that compound, beside my hostess, was the German - girl who had come out to help. - </p> - <p> - “I gave myself to the Lord for China,” she said, and she spoke - simply and quietly, as if she were saying the most natural thing in the - world, as if there could be no doubt of the value of the gift—truly - it was her all, she could not give more. And the Chinese did need her, I - think—that is only my opinion—but not exactly in the way she - counted most important. She had taken the precaution to become a midwife, - and indeed she must be a godsend, for Chinese practices are crude and - cruel in the extreme. It is the child that counts, the mother, even in her - hour of travail, must literally make no moan. A woman once told me how she - went to see her amah, who was expecting a baby, and she was asked to wait. - She waited about an hour, for she was anxious about the woman, and the - room was very still, there was no sound till the silence was broken by the - first cry of the new-born infant. The child had been born behind the - screen while she waited, and an hour later, to her horror, the white-faced - young mother was up and preparing to cook the family evening meal. The - woman would not have cried out for the world. No Chinese woman would. If - poor human flesh is weak, and a <span class="pagenum">255</span><a - name="link255" id="link255"></a>sigh of pain escape her, her mother-in-law - will cover her mouth with her hand, but mostly the woman will gag herself - with her long black hair, she will not disgrace herself by a cry as long - as her senses are with her. It is all very well to say the Chinese do not - suffer as white women suffer. They are not like the sturdy negro women who - have lived a primitive, open-air life, walk like queens, and have - exercised every muscle. They are the crippled products of an effete - civilisation, who spend long hours on the k'ang, and go as little as - possible from their own compound. To those women that German girl will be - a blessing untold. I think of their bodies while she labours for their - souls. Anyway she is surely sent by God. - </p> - <p> - There were two men here to make up the complement, one was my missionary's - husband, a man who takes the Bible for his guide in everything, the Bible - as it is translated into the English tongue. He does not read primarily - for the beauty of the language, for the rhythm, for the poetry, for the - Eastern glamour that is over all. He reads it, he would tell you himself, - for the truth. It is to him the most important thing in the world; he - quotes it, he lives by it, it is never out of his thoughts, he might be a - Covenanter of old Puritan days. And the fourth missionary is a man of the - world. I don't think he realises it himself, but he is. He had lived - there many years, had married a wife and brought up children there, and - now had sent them home to be educated, and he himself talked, not of the - Bible, though I doubt not he is just as keen as the other, but of the - people, and their manner of life, and their customs, of the country, and - of the strangers he had <span class="pagenum">256</span><a - name="link256_rdquo_________id_" id="link256_rdquo_________id_"></a>met, - the changes he had seen, and, when I questioned him, of the escape of - himself and his family from the Boxers. - </p> - <p> - For the souls and bodies of these wretched, miserable, uncomprehending - Chinese, who very likely, at the bottom of their hearts, pity the - strangers because they were not born in the Flowery Land, these devoted - people work—work and pray—day and night. The result is not - great. - </p> - <p> - “They will not hear the truth. Their eyes are blind. They worship - idols,” they told me of the majority. But they give kindliness, and - in all probability, for it is seldom that faithful, honest kindliness - fails in its purpose, they make a greater impression than they or I - realise. - </p> - <p> - True they believe firmly in the old Hebrew idea of a “jealous God,” - but they themselves are more tender than the God they preach. For all of - them, it seemed to me, life is hard, unless they have greater joy in the - service than I, “a Greek” could understand, but for the older - woman it must be hardest of all. - </p> - <p> - “My yoke is easy, My burden is light,” said the Master she - followed, but the burden of this woman, away up in the mountains of - Northern China, is by no means light. The community is so small, they do - not belong to the China Inland Mission but call themselves “The - Brethren,” the nearest white man is two days away hard travelling - across the mountains, so that perforce the life is lonely. Day in and day - out they must live here for seven years among an alien people; a people - who come to them for aid and yet despise them. And because they would put - no more stumbling-blocks in the way of <span class="pagenum">257</span><a - name="link257" id="link257"></a>bringing the Chinese to listen to the - message they bring, these missionaries conform, as much as they can, to - Chinese custom. Very seldom does this woman walk abroad with her husband—it - would not be the thing—women and men do not walk together in China. - If she goes outside the missionary compound she must be accompanied by - another woman, and she puts on some loose coat, because the Chinese would - be shocked at any suggestion of the outline of a figure. Also she looks - neither to the right nor the left, and does not appear to notice anything, - because a well-behaved woman in China never looks about her. She - considers, too, very carefully her goings, she would not walk through the - town at the hour when the men are going about their business, the hour - that I found the most interesting, and invariably chose, no boy may bring - her tea to her bedroom—it would not be right—and she has none - of the arrogance of the higher race who think what they do must be right - and expect the natives of the land to fall into line. No, she conforms, - always conforms to the uncomfortable customs of the Chinese, and when any - man above the rank of the poorest comes to call upon her husband, she and - the girl are hustled out of the way and are as invisible as if he kept a - harem. It often occurred to me that the Chinese thought he did. Even in - the church the women are screened off from the men, and if a man adheres - to the customs of the country so closely in everything they can see, it is - natural to suppose they will give him credit for adhering to them in all - things. But they must think, at least, he has selected his womenkind with - a view to their welfare, for the older woman has had <span class="pagenum">258</span><a - name="link258" id="link258"></a>a little medical training, and simple - cases of sickness she can deal with, while the German girl, as I have - said, is a certified midwife. The other man too, though not a doctor, has - some little knowledge of the more simple eye diseases. - </p> - <p> - And they are grateful, the poor Chinese, for the sympathy they get from - these kindly missionaries, who openly say they tend their poor bodies - because they feel that so only can they get at their souls. They come to - the little dispensary in crowds, come twenty miles over the mountains, and - they bring there the diseases of a slum people, coughs and colds, pleurisy - and pneumonia, internal complaints and the diseases of filth—here in - the clean mountains—itch and the like. Many have bad eyes, many - granulated lids, and there is many a case of hideous goitre. While I was - there a man, old and poor, tramped one hundred miles across the mountains; - he was blind, with frightfully granulated lids, and he had heard of the - skill of the missionaries. There are also well-to-do people here, who - sometimes seek aid from them, though as a rule, it is the lower class they - come in contact with. - </p> - <p> - But the ailments of the rich are different, I remember my missionary woman - was called in to see a girl about twenty, the daughter of a high-class - Manchu. The girl had hiccough. It came on regularly about four o'clock - every afternoon, and continued, if I remember rightly, three or four - hours. She was well and strong, she had everything the heart of a Chinese - woman could desire, she was never required to do one stroke of work, but - she was not married. The Manchus have fallen on evil times and find some - difficulty in marrying their <span class="pagenum">259</span><a - name="link259" id="link259"></a>daughters. So this girl, the daughter of - well-to-do people, was necessary to no one, not even to herself, and the - missionary, finding she spent the greater part of her time lying idly upon - the k'ang, diagnosed hysteria, and prescribed a good brisk walk - every day. The proud Manchu, who was her mother, looked at the woman she - had called in to help her, scornfully. - </p> - <p> - “My daughter,” she said drawing herself up to her full height, - and the Manchus are tall women, “cannot walk in the street. It would - not be seemly.” - </p> - <p> - The missionary looked at her a little troubled. - </p> - <p> - “At least,” she said, “she can walk in the courtyard and - play with her brother's children.” - </p> - <p> - But the girl looked at her with weary eyes. There was no excitement in - playing with her brother's, children, and she could not see the good - to be got out of walking aimlessly round the courtyard. Poor Manchu maid! - What had she expected? - </p> - <p> - “If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not - have done it?” - </p> - <p> - “I could do no good,” said the missionary sorrowfully, “and - they would not listen to my message.” - </p> - <p> - The Chinese have their own remedies for many diseases, and some of them - the missionaries told me were good, but many were too drastic, and many - were wickedly dangerous. When an eye is red and bloodshot for instance, - they will break a piece of crockery and pierce the eye with it, and in all - probability the unfortunate loses his sight. No wonder they come miles and - miles, however rough the way, to submit themselves to gentler treatment. I - have known even women with bound feet toil twenty miles <span - class="pagenum">260</span><a name="link260" id="link260"></a>to see them - about some ailment. Of course their feet are not as badly bound as some, - for there are many women in China who cannot walk at all. I talked with a - man once who told me he had just been called upon to congratulate a man - because he had married a wife who could not get across the room by - herself. She, naturally, was a lady with slaves to wait upon her. These - Chinese women of the mountains of the poorer classes—the Manchus do - not bind their feet—must be able to move about a little, for there - is a certain amount of work they must do. - </p> - <p> - “A hundred thousand medical missionaries,” said this man, - “are wanted in China, for the teeming population suffers from its - ignorance, it suffers because it is packed so tightly together; the women - suffer from the custom that presses so heavily, and it suffers from its - own dirt.” - </p> - <p> - Up here at Jehol the suffering is apparently as bad as anywhere, and the - dispensary is full with all the minor ailments that come within the range - of the missionaries' simple skill, and all the cruel diseases that - are quite beyond them, that they cannot touch, and they do their best in - all pity and love, and yet think that they are doing a greater thing than - binding up a man's wounds when they can induce him to come to their - prayer-meetings, which go along, side by side, with the dispensary. - </p> - <p> - I, a heathen and a “Greek,” question whether the Chinese ever - receives Christianity. A Chinese gentleman, a graduate of Cambridge, once - told me he did not think he ever did. - </p> - <p> - “But the Chinaman,” said he, he actually used the contemned - word, “is a practical man, he receives all faiths. Some may be - right, and when he thinks <span class="pagenum">261</span><a name="link261" - id="link261"></a>he is dying, he will send for a priest of every faith he - knows of to help him across the dark river. Who knows, some of them may - chance to be right,” and he laughed. He himself was of the faith so - many of us of this modern world have attained to, seeing the good in so - many faiths, seeing the beauty and the pity of them and standing aside and - crying: “Why all this? Whither are we bound? What can it matter - whether this poor coolie believes in Christ, or Buddha, or the cold ethics - of Confucius?” I said this to my missionary woman one day and she - looked at me with horror in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “There will be a reaping some day,” she said. “Where - will you be then?” - </p> - <p> - “Surely I cannot be blamed for using the reasoning powers God has - given.” But I am sure she thought my reasoning powers came from the - devil, and if I hadn't been getting used to it I should have been - made uncomfortable by being prayed for as one in outer darkness. - </p> - <p> - It is the worship of the ancestors that holds the Chinese, the man who - gives up that, gives up all family ties and becomes practically an - outcast. There may be a few genuine Christians, but in proportion to the - money spent upon their conversion, their number must be very small. I saw - the colporteur come into the compound one day, and they told me he was an - earnest Christian. He might be, but again that doubt arose in my mind. If - the receiving of Christianity ensures a livelihood, could you expect one - of a nation, who will be made a eunuch for the same reason, to reject it. - </p> - <p> - The missionaries had a hard time when first they came here. The place is - inhabited by Manchus, <span class="pagenum">262</span><a - name="link262_rdquo_________id_" id="link262_rdquo_________id_"></a>full - of the pride of race, and they do not want the outsider. They use them, as - they have effected a settlement, but they do not approve of their being - there. - </p> - <p> - As I and my saintly missionary walked down the street, she carefully - avoiding a glance either to the right or the left, a little half-naked - child at his mother's side looked at her and cried aloud: - </p> - <p> - “Ta, ta,” and he said it vehemently again and again. - </p> - <p> - She stopped, spoke to the mother, and evidently remonstrated, and the - woman laughed and passed along on her high Manchu shoes without correcting - the child. - </p> - <p> - She looked troubled. “What did he say?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Strike, strike! or some people might say 'kill, kill!' - I said to the woman: 'What bad manners is this?'” - </p> - <p> - And the woman had only laughed! After all her kindness and tenderness, all - her consideration and care; I should have thought the very children would - have worshipped the ground she walked upon. - </p> - <p> - They are holding their own, they say. In the compound are a couple of - Chinese women, the wives of their teachers or servants, and they have had - to unbind their feet, a process almost as painful as the binding. One old - woman could not unbind hers, they told me, because so long had they been - bound the feet split when she attempted to walk upon them unbound, but so - true a Christian is she, she puts her tiny feet inside big shoes. But to - balance her, their amah, a Manchu, is still a heathen. After the years, - the years they had been striving there, they could not find one who has - embraced their faith to wait upon them. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0044" id="linkimage-0044"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0370.jpg" alt="0370 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0370.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - In truth it was a hard faith, morning, noon, and night, they prayed, - morning, noon, and night, it seemed to me from the little meeting-house - went up the sound of hymns and prayers, not even in Christian England, - England that has held the faith for over a thousand years would so many - services have been attended, could they expect it of the Chinese? - </p> - <p> - In the evening, when the night fell, we sat in the compound and talked, I, - who was cold and reasonable, and they who were enthusiasts, for to them - had come the call, that mysterious crying for the unknown that comes to - all peoples and all classes, and is called by such different names. - </p> - <p> - “I have given myself to the Lord for China.” And outside the - house the watchman beat his gong, not to frighten off thieves, as I at - first thought, but to keep away the devils who help the “stealer - man,” for he cannot alone carry out his nefarious designs, the <i>wonks</i>, - the scavenger dogs made the night hideous by their howling, and the - soldiers, of whom the town was full, sang their new war-song—wild - and barbaric. - </p> - <p> - “I do not like it,” said she of the sad eyes and red lips, - “I do not like it. It does not sound true.” - </p> - <p> - And I, who had not got to live there, did not like it either, but it was - because it did sound to me true—it sounded fierce and merciless. - What might not men, who sang like that, do? - </p> - <p> - “The Chinese soldier is a baby,” said a Chinese <span - class="pagenum">264</span><a name="link264" id="link264"></a>to me, but - that is when he is among his own particular people at home. - </p> - <p> - “Chinese soldiers,” said another man, a foreigner, “are - always robbers and banditti.” - </p> - <p> - And there is truth in that last statement, possibly there is truth in - both, for children, unguided and unbridled, with the strength and passions - of men, are dangerous to let loose upon a community. - </p> - <p> - We are beginning to look upon China as a land at peace. We talk about her - “bloodless revolution,” yet even as I write these words I see, - sitting opposite to me, my friend who was one of the rescue-party, the - gallant nine, who rode post-haste to Hsi An Fu to rescue the missionaries - cut off by the tide of the revolution, and I know the peace of China is - not as the peace of a Western land. - </p> - <p> - Hsi An Fu is situated in Shensi, roughly, about a fortnight's - journey from the nearest railway, with walls that rival those of Peking, - and like Peking, with a Manchu City walled off inside those walls. There - on the 22nd October, 1911, the Revolutionaries, the apostles of progress, - shut fast the gates of the inner city and butchered the Manchus within the - walls. From house to house they went, and slew them all, old women on the - brink of the grave and the tiny infant smiling in its mother's arms. - Not one was spared. No cries for mercy were listened to. “Kill, - kill!” was the cry that bright autumn Sunday; men, women, and - children were slain, the streets ran with their blood, the reek of - slaughter went up to heaven, and the Manchus were exterminated. - </p> - <p> - The movement was not anti-foreign, but the plight of the missionaries well - illustrates the danger every <span class="pagenum">265</span><a - name="link265" id="link265"></a>foreigner faces in China. The bulk of the - people are peaceful. Nowhere in the world, I suppose, is a more peaceful - person to be found than the average Chinese peasant. He asks only to be - let alone, but, unfortunately, he is not let alone. His rulers “squeeze” - and oppress him, bands of robbers take toll of his pittance, and when an - unpaid soldiery is let loose upon him, his plight is pitiable. It is - certainly understandable, if not pardonable, that he in his turn, takes to - pillage, and pillage leads to murder. He is only a puppet in the hands of - others. One man alone may be kindly enough but the man who is one of a - mob, is swayed by the passions of that mob, or the passions of its leader. - So it was at Hsi An Fu. Party feeling ran high. There were really three - parties, the Manchus, the Revolutionaries, and the Secret Society, the - Elder Brother Society, who are always anti-foreign and who, here in Hsi An - Fu, for whatever purpose they might originally have banded themselves - together, were virtually a band of robbers, mainly intent on filling their - own pockets. The Revolutionaries declared that the foreigners should be - protected, but—and again the menace of China to the white man is - felt—in the rush and tumult of the battle, many of their followers - did not realise this. This was the time to wreak private vengeance, and it - was fiercely taken advantage of. When thousands of helpless people, closer - akin to the slayers than the foreigners, were being given pitilessly to - the sword, who was likely to take much account of a handful of - missionaries. - </p> - <p> - There was outside the city in the south suburb a small school for the - teaching of the Swedish missionaries' children, and the head of that - school had, <span class="pagenum">266</span><a name="link266" id="link266"></a>some - little time before, had a camera stolen. He reported it to the police, and - being dissatisfied with the lax way the man at the head of the district - took the matter up, went to his superior officer. Now in these disturbed - times, the man who had “lost face” saw his way to vengeance, - and, being in sympathy with the Revolutionaries, and knowing the exact - hour of the outbreak, he ordered the villagers round the south suburb, - every family, to send at least one man to help exterminate the foreigners. - “It was an order,” and the villagers responded. The school was - the first place attacked, for not only did this man seek vengeance, but - the humble possessions of the missionaries seemed to the poorer Chinese to - be wealth well worth looting. Therefore that Sunday at midnight a mob - attacked the school premises. The missionaries, Mr and Mrs Beckman and Mr - Watne, the tutor, were helpless before the crowd, and hid in a tool-house, - but they were discovered and ran out, making for a high wall that - surrounded the compound. Mr Watne got astride of this and handed over Mr - Beckman's eldest daughter, a tall girl of twelve, but, before he - could get the other children, the crowd rushed them, and he was tumbled - over the wall, making his escape with the girl to another village some way - off while the mob swept over the rest, scattering them far and wide. Mr - Beckman, a particularly tall, stalwart man, considerably over six feet - high, had his youngest child, a baby, in his arms, and the people gave way - before him, closing in on the unfortunates who were following. It is - impossible for an outsider to tell the tale of that massacre, for massacre - it was, the people falling upon and doing to death the unfortunate woman - and the children who were clustering round her. The darkness was filled - with the fierce shouts of the murderers, and every now and again they were - broken in upon by the terrified wail of a child butchered with none to - help. - </p> - <p> - “Ta, ta,” cried the people, and they struck mercilessly, with - spades and reaping hooks and knives, the weak and helpless, and dodged out - of the way of the great, strong man who could fight a little for his life - and the lives of those dear to him. - </p> - <p> - The woman and the children were slain and at last he was hunted, with the - little girl still in his arms, into a deep pond of water outside the - suburb. The mite was only three years old, and the distracted father, wild - with anxiety for his wife and other children, had to soothe the little one - and exhort her to be quiet and not to cry, for the pursuers were lighting - fires round the pond to find them. They lighted three, and the fires - probably defeated their own end, for the fugitive managed to keep out of - the glare, and the leaping flames deepened the darkness around. The baby - sheltered in her father's arms, and in spite of the cold, never even - whimpered, and the water was so deep the mob dared not venture in. Only a - man of extraordinary height could have so saved himself. Hour after hour - of the bitter cold autumn night passed and the mob dispersed a little. The - lust for killing was not so great in the keen Hours of the early morning. - Then the first silver streaks, heralding the rising of the moon, appeared - in the eastern sky and the distracted man made his way softly to a bank at - one side, and reaching up, again only a tall man could have done it, laid - his little girl there. But the child who had been so good in the icy water - while she was against his breast began to fret when the keen morning air - blew through her sodden clothes and she could not feel her father's - arms round her, and he had to take her back and soothe her. But at last he - persuaded her to lie still till he got softly out of the water, and crept - round to her. He was not followed, the pursuit was slackening more and - more, and, keeping in the shadows, he made his way to the missionaries in - the western suburb. He thought that all but he and his little girl had - perished, and sad to say they did not know of the two who were sheltering - in a village some miles away in the country. Here, nearly twelve hours - later, the pursuers sought them out and stoned them to death. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile rumours of what was happening in the southern suburb reached the - missionaries in the eastern suburb, and they, taking counsel with their - native helpers, divided themselves into three parties, and set out to take - refuge in some more distant villages where the people were reputed - Christians. They had gone but a little way, when the carts of two of the - parties were overtaken by a mob, who handled them somewhat roughly, took - all their humble possessions, and drove them back. - </p> - <p> - “Kill, kill!” cried the pointing people, as the little - helpless company, escorted by the shouting, threatening mob passed, and - even those who did not directly threaten, seemed to have no hope. - </p> - <p> - “They go to their deaths,” they said, looking at them - curiously as men look upon other men about to die. - </p> - <p> - The missionaries themselves had small hope of their lives. When they - reached the first mission-<span class="pagenum">269</span><a - name="link269_rdquo_________id_" id="link269_rdquo_________id_"></a>house - they were roughly thrust into a room and there guarded, and they only - wondered why death did not come swiftly and cut short the agony of - waiting. - </p> - <p> - The third party that set out from that suburb consisted of the Rev. Donald - Smith, his wife, and some schoolgirls they were escorting back to their - homes, as he considered, in these troublous times, they would be safer - with their own people than in the mission school. They went due east, and - had not gone three miles when they were set upon. The girls fled in all - directions, but the attackers only molested the foreigner and his wife. He - endeavoured to defend her, but they beat him so severely that both his - arms were broken, and they were both left for dead by the wayside. Here - they were found by some friendly, kindly villagers—the average - Chinaman is kindly—who, when the roughs were gone, came to their - rescue, and took them back to the eastern suburb, where the other - missionaries had spent a terrible two hours, momentarily expecting the mob - to rush in and kill them. - </p> - <p> - But the Chinese are a cautious people, curious in their respect for - precedent. What was to be done with these foreigners. Sometimes the - foreigners had been slain, but then again, quite as often, they had been - guarded and kept safely. There was no getting into the city. The gates - were fast locked and were kept shut for days, but someone—very - probably a well-wisher to the missionaries—went to the wall and - shouted up to know what was the order about foreigners? Were they to kill - them or were they to protect them? Back came the response, the order was, - the foreigners were to be protected, and when word of this was brought - back to the mission station, they were not only released, but the property - of which they had been robbed was returned to them. For those who had - looted kept it intact till they saw which way the wind blew. - </p> - <p> - And by the time the city gates were opened and order was restored, it was - understood, by the proclamation of the New Republic, that all foreigners - were to be protected. - </p> - <p> - But the case of the missionaries in Hsi An Fu graphically illustrates the - dangers every foreigner, missionary, or the missionary's <i>bête - noire</i>, the ubiquitous cigarette-selling British American Tobacco man, - runs in China, where the civilisation, the long-established civilisation - is that of Nineveh or Babylon, or ancient Egypt. Not that the foreigner - runs any greater risk than the native of the country, sometimes he runs - less, because, even into the far interior, a glimmering of the vengeance - the Christian nations take for their martyred brothers has penetrated; but - life in China is, as it was in Nineveh or Babylon, not nearly as sacred as - it is in the West. The life of a poor man, one of the luckless - proletariat, is of small account to anyone. A disbanded and unpaid - soldiery are for ever a menace, and the difference between the disciplined - soldier and the unlicensed bandit is very, very small. One week a regiment - of soldiers clamouring for their pay, the next a band of robbers hiding in - the hills, their methods ruthless, for their hand is against every man's - and every man's hand is against them. They live by the sword, as - they perish by the sword, and when the tide of lawlessness reaches a - certain height, white man and yellow alike suffer, but we take count only - of the sufferings of our own people. <span class="pagenum">271</span><a - name="link271" id="link271"></a>Sitting in the missionary compound up at - Jehol in the evening, I thought of these things and looked into the eyes - that looked into mine, the kind, brown eyes, and I wondered did she - remember, did she think of them, too. I looked again, and I knew she - remembered, that ever with her was the thought how cut off they were from - the rest of the world, and I read there, though she never murmured, fear. - For Jehol has its traditions of sacrifice and martyrdom too. Only six - miles away at a village on the Lanho, in the year of the Boxer trouble, - they had slowly buried the Catholic priest alive. All the long hot summer's - day they had kept him tied to a post, slowly, to prolong his agony, - heaping up the earth around him. The day was hot, and he begged for water - as the long, weary, hopeless hours dragged themselves away. And some of - them had loved him. - </p> - <p> - “You might,” said a man looking on, “give him a drink, - even if you do kill him.” - </p> - <p> - And they turned on him even as men might have done in the days of the - Inquisition: - </p> - <p> - “If you say any more, we will bury you beside him.” - </p> - <p> - And so he died a cruel death, a martyr, for there was none to help, and - when the Western nations exacted retribution, they made the people put up - a cross, the symbol of his faith, over the grave. And then, because they - had been forced to do it, every villager who passed that monument to show - his contempt for the foreigner and all his works cast a stone, till now - shape and inscription have both gone, and the passer-by cannot tell what - is that rough rock, jagged and unshapely. - </p> - <p> - Yet here among these selfsame people, four and a half days' hard - journey from Peking, far beyond all hope of help from the foreign - soldiery, dwell these Christian missionaries. “To the Greeks, - foolishness.” But could they better demonstrate the strength of - their faith? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—A VISIT TO THE TARTAR GENERAL - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">273</span><a name="link273" id="link273"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Hsiung Hsi Ling, Premier of China—Preparations for a call—A - cart of State—An elderly mule—Waiting in the gate—The - yam en—Mr Wu, the secretary—“Hallo, Missus!”—The - power of a Chinese General—“Plenty robber, too much war”—Ceremonial - farewell—A cultivated gentleman—Back to past ages for the - night.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>p in Jehol they - called the General commanding the three thousand odd troops the Tartar - General, why I do not know, but it seems it is the title by which he is - commonly known among the country people. He was Hsiung Hsi Ling, the man - who is now Premier of China, and to him I brought letters of introduction - so that I might be admitted to the Imperial Palace and Park and be treated - as a person of consequence, otherwise I imagine a foreigner and a woman at - that would have but small chance of respect in China. The Chinese letters - lifted me to the rank of the literati, which must have been rather - surprising to the Chinese, and these in English were such that I felt I - must bear myself so as to live up to them. - </p> - <p> - The yamen was about five minutes' walk from the mission station, and - in my ignorance I had thought I would stroll up some morning when I had - recovered from the fatigues of the journey, but the missionaries, <span - class="pagenum">274</span><a name="link274" id="link274"></a>steeped in - the lore of Chinese etiquette, declared such a proceeding was not - suitable. A person of consequence, such as my letters proclaimed me, must - bear herself more becomingly. - </p> - <p> - “Write and ask if ten o'clock on Tuesday morning will be a - suitable time for you to call on the General, and send your letters by - your servant. I dare say there will be somebody who can read them, though - I am sure there will be nobody who can write an answer,” said the - missionary. “The General's English-speaking secretary is away.” - </p> - <p> - Accordingly I sent off Tuan, who was more than sure that he was equal to - the task, and he returned without a letter, as the missionary had - prophesied, but saying: “She say all right.” - </p> - <p> - “And now you must have a cart,” said that missionary who was - more worldly wise than I expected an enthusiast to be, “and don't - get down till the yamen gates are opened. It would never do to wait with - the servants in the gate.” - </p> - <p> - How Eastern it sounded! And then his wife came and superintended my - toilet. The weather was warm, not to say hot, and I had thought a black - and white muslin a most fitting and suitable array. But she was horrified - at the effect. It was made in the mode of 1913, and did not suggest, as - the long Manchu robes do, that I was built like a pyramid, broadest at the - base. - </p> - <p> - “Haven't you got a coat to put over you,” said she - looking round, and she seized my burberry which was the only thing in the - shape of a wrap I had with me. Chinese ideas of propriety evidently - influenced her very strongly. - </p> - <p> - I declined to wear a burberry on a hot day late in <span class="pagenum">275</span><a - name="link275" id="link275"></a>May, though all the Chinese Empire were - shocked and horrified at my impropriety, but I sought round and found a - lace veil which, draped over me, was a little suggestive of a bridal - festivity, but apparently satisfied all conditions, and then I went out to - mount into that abomination—a Peking cart. The Peking cart that is - used for visiting has a little trestle carried over the back end of the - shafts, which is taken down when the occupant wishes to mount and - dismount, so I got into the seat of honour, the most uncomfortable seat - well under the tilt, and Tuan, glorious in a long black silk brocade robe, - his queue newly oiled and plaited, and a big straw hat upon his head, - climbed on to the tail of the shaft, and the carter, dressed in the - ordinary blue of his class, with the ordinary rag over his head to keep - off the dust, walked beside the most venerable white mule I have ever come - across. I don't know whether aged animals are held in respect in - China, I'm afraid not. The poor old thing had great deep hollows - over his eyes. I suspect Tuan had got him cheap, because the cart was - respectable, and he had been good once—of course he would never have - let me lose face—and then he made me pay full price, a whole - fivepence I think it came to. - </p> - <p> - “That's a very old mule, Tuan,” I said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he assented, “very old, she forty,” which - was certainly more than I had reckoned him. I afterwards came to the - conclusion he meant fourteen. - </p> - <p> - What Tuan was there for, I certainly don't know, except to carry my - card-case, which I was perfectly capable of carrying myself. - </p> - <p> - We went out into the dusty, mud-coloured street, and along between - mud-coloured walls of the dullest, most uninteresting description, and - presently we arrived at the yamen gates, and here it was evident that - Tuan, who had been so important all across the mountains, was now quite - out of his depth. - </p> - <p> - “Cart no can go,” said he. “Missie get out.” - </p> - <p> - I was prepared for that. “No,” I said very important for once - in my life, “I wait till someone comes.” - </p> - <p> - The yamen entrance was divided into three, as all Chinese entrances seem - to be, and over it were curved tiled roofs with a little colouring, faded - and shabby, about them; all of it was badly in need of repair, and on the - fast-closed gates in the middle were representations of some demon - apparently in a fit, but his aspect was a little spoiled by the want of a - fresh coat of paint. The two little gates at either side were open, and - here clustered Chinese soldiers in khaki, and men in civilian dress of - blue cotton, and all stared at the foreign woman who was not a missionary, - in the cart; that is the rude ones stared, and the polite ones looked - uncomfortably out of the corners of their eyes. A Chinaman's - politeness in this respect always ends by making me uncomfortable. A good, - downright stare that says openly: “I am taking you in with all my - eyes,” I can stand, but the man who looks away and down and out of - the corners of his eyes gets on my nerves in no time. - </p> - <p> - However, this time I had not long to wait. After a minute or two out came - a messenger, a Chinese of the better class, for he was dressed in a bright - blue silk coat and petticoats, with a black sleeveless jacket over it, and - the gates at his command, to my boy's immense astonishment, opened, - and my cart rumbled into the first courtyard. We went on into a second—bare, - ugly courtyards they were, without a flower or a tree or any green thing - to rest the eye upon—and then I got down as there came to meet me a - small bare-headed man without a queue, and his thick black hair apparently - cut with a saw and done with a fork. He wore an ill-fitting suit of - foreign clothes, and about his neck, instead of a collar, one of those - knitted wraps an Englishwoman puts inside her coat when the weather is - cold. On his feet were the white socks and heelless slippers of the - Chinese. Instead of the dignified greeting the first man had given me he - remarked genially, and offhandedly: “Hallo, Missus!” and he - did it with a certain confidence, as if he really would show the numerous - bystanders that he knew how to receive a lady. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0045" id="linkimage-0045"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0386.jpg" alt="0386 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0386.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0046" id="linkimage-0046"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0387.jpg" alt="0387 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0387.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Through one shabby courtyard after another, all guarded by soldiers in - khaki, he led me to the presence of the Tartar General, Hsiung Hsi Ling, - the great man who had been Minister of Finance and who now held military - command over the whole of that part of China, independent even of the - Viceroy of the Province of Chihli. Those who told me made a great point of - that independence; but in China it seems that a General with troops at his - command always is independent, not only of the Viceroy of the Province in - which he is stationed, but of anyone else in authority. The President - himself would treat him with great respect so long as he had troops at his - back. He is, in fact, entirely independent. If the central authorities - give him money to pay his troops, well and good, he holds himself at their - command, if they do not, then he is quite likely to sympathise with his - men, and become not only a <span class="pagenum">278</span><a - name="link278" id="link278"></a>danger to the community among whom he is - stationed, but to the Government as well. It is hardly likely yet in - China, that a General popular with his troops can be degraded or - dismissed. He can only be got rid of by offering him something better. - </p> - <p> - Here I found none of the pomp and magnificence I had expected to find - about an all-powerful Oriental. We went into a room floored with stone, - after the Chinese fashion, and furnished with a couple of chairs, and - through that into a plain, smallish room, with the usual window of dainty - lattice-work covered with white paper. All down the centre of it ran a - table like a great dining-table, covered, as if to emphasise the likeness, - with a white cloth. I felt as if I had come in at an inopportune moment, - before the table had been cleared away. Seated at this table, with his - back to the window, was the General. He rose as I entered and came - forward, kindly and considerately, to meet me—a man of middle - height, younger than I expected, for he hardly looked forty. There was not - a thread of white in his coal-black hair, but he had some hair on his face—a - moustache and the scanty beard that is all the Chinese can produce—so - he was evidently of ripe years, well past middle age. He wore a uniform of - khaki, as simple and devoid of ornament as that of one of his own - soldiers; his thick black hair was cut short and he had a clever, kindly - face. Though he could understand no English, he looked at the foreign - woman pleasantly, and as if he were glad to see her. He went back to his - chair, and I was seated at his right hand, while his secretary, and very - inadequate interpreter, sat on his left. An attendant, looking like an - ordinary coolie, brought in tea in three cups with handles and saucers, - foreign fashion, and the interview began. - </p> - <p> - I have been told that a grave and unsmiling demeanour is the proper thing - to bring to a Chinese interview; and if so I failed lamentably to come up - to the correct standard. But since the interpreter knew even less English - than Tuan, whom I had left outside, there was really little else to do but - smile and look pleasant. My host certainly smiled many times. I - complimented him on the beauty of his country and then I asked permission, - that is to say his protection, to go on to Lamamiao, or as it is called on - the maps, Dolnor. Goodness knows why I asked. It would have meant two or - three weeks at least in that awful Peking cart, but I appear to be so - constituted that, when I am within range of a place, it would seem like - missing my opportunities not to try and get there. I don't know what - there is to see at Dolnor, but it is up on the Mongolian plateau, and - there is a big lamaserie there and a living Buddha, that is an incarnation - of the Buddha. The one who is there at present may be very holy as to one - part of him, but the earthly part requires plenty of drink, I am told, and - the caresses of many women to make this world tolerable. However, I was - not to see him. The General and his secretary might not have understood - much, but they did understand what I wanted then, and they were emphatic - that I could not go. The General looked at his secretary and then at me, - and explained at length, and he must have thought that the English - language was remarkable for its brevity, for I was curtly informed: - </p> - <p> - “No can go. Plenty robber. Too much war.” - </p> - <p> - I had been threatened with robbers before, but not by an important - General, and this time I felt I had better take heed, besides there was - always the consolatory thought that, if I did not go, I need not ride any - more in a Peking cart. Then I asked permission to visit the Palace and - Park. - </p> - <p> - “No can do one time,” said the interpreter. “How many - day you want go?” - </p> - <p> - Somehow, though I had come all this way to see it, I have a rooted - objection to sightseeing. To get a ticket to go into a place takes away - the charm; still as I was about it, I thought I would go as often as I - could, so I said I would like to go on five days. The missionaries, though - they had been here for six years, had never yet set foot inside that Park; - to go required a permit from the authorities, and it was their idea to ask - nothing from those authorities that they could possibly avoid. They would - certainly have thought it wicked to ask for anything for their own - pleasure. I did not suffer from any such ideas. As the General was bent on - being civil to me I thought I might as well say I would like to take my - friends in, and as we could not go without proper attendants—I who - come from a country where I have blacked my own boots, cooked the family - dinner, and ironed my husband's shirts many a time—I asked for - and got about thirty tickets. I've got some of them still. Then I - drank a cup of very excellent tea, and before five minutes were up rose - and made my adieux. Brevity, I had been instructed, was the soul of - courtesy in a Chinese interview. - </p> - <p> - The Tartar General saw me through two doors, which I believe was a high - honour, and due to my having been introduced as a learned doctor. The - correct thing is to protest all the while and beg your host not to come - any farther, but I am really too Western in my ideas and it seems silly. - Either he wants to come, or he doesn't, in any case what does it - matter, and so I fear me, I was not vehement enough in my protestations of - unworthiness. The secretary conducted me to my cart, where a subdued and - awed servant awaited my arrival with a new and exalted idea of his Missie's - importance. Tuan had magnified my importance, I fancy, for his own sake. - He was serving a woman—yes, but she was a rich, generous, and - important woman, but he had never, at the bottom of his heart, really - dreamt that she could go through the yamen gate in a cart, that she could - sit down beside the Tartar General, that she could get many tickets to go - inside grounds forbidden to all the Chinese round about. I have not the - slightest doubt all the details of the interview reached him before I came - out, brief as my visit had been, and he helped me into my cart with, I - felt, more deference and less make-believe than was usual. It made me - smile a little to myself, but I think it was Tuan who really got most - satisfaction out of that visit, though he had not seen the great man. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0047" id="linkimage-0047"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0393.jpg" alt="0393 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0393.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - I had been comparing China to Babylon. I came away from the General's - presence with the feeling that a Babylonish gentleman was truly charming—just - like a finished product of my own time. Probably he was. But there were - other sides to Babylon, as I was reminded that night. It is well to know - all sides. When I had said good night and gone to bed, there burst on my - ears a loud beating of gongs, and the weird war-song I had found so <span - class="pagenum">282</span><a name="link282" id="link282"></a>haunting the - night before. The soldiers were stimulating their courage for the fighting - in Mongolia. I wonder if the Babylonish soldiery sang so before they - marched down upon Jerusalem. Then there came the watchman's gong, - and the howl of the <i>wonks</i> that prowled about the town. I was back - in past ages, and as I lay there in the darkness I wondered how I had ever - had the temerity even to contemplate a visit to Lamamiao, and whether I - would ever have the courage necessary to get back to Peking by myself. - Luckily the fears of the dark are generally dispersed by the morning - sunlight. At least they are with me, or I should never dare go travelling - in remote places at all. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI—A PLEASURE-GROUND OF THE MANCHUS - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">283</span><a name="link283" id="link283"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>A return call—Ceremonies—A dog-robbing suit—Difficulties - of conversation—A treat for the amah—The British Ambassador at - Jehol in the eighteenth century—The last stages of decrepitude—Glories - of the park—The bronze temple—A flippant young Chinese - gentleman—“Ladies' Temple”—Desolation and - dirt and ruin—“Happiness Hall”—Examining a - barbarian.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next day the - secretary returned my call, bringing with him the General's card, - and an apology for not coming himself. He was so very busy. I never - expected him to come, and don't suppose he ever really intended to, - but it was true Chinese politeness to put it that way. - </p> - <p> - Mr Wu had sent to say he was coming to call upon me, and it surprised me - to see the commotion such a little thing occasioned in the mission house. - I felt they were really being awfully good to my guest, but, without - taking away one jot from their kindliness, I think, too, they were very - glad to be brought into friendly relations with the yamen, and I was very - glad indeed to think that I, who was in outer darkness from their point of - view, was able to do this little thing for them. Cakes were made, the best - tea got out, the table set, and the boy, who generally waited upon us - humbler folk in a little short jacket and trousers caught in at the - ankles, was put into the long coat, <span class="pagenum">284</span><a - name="link284" id="link284"></a>or petticoat, whichever you are pleased to - call it, that a well-dressed Chinese servant always wears. It seems it is - not the correct thing for him to wait upon one in a little short jacket. - And then when all was ready, and the small great man was announced, to my - surprise the other two women were hustled out of sight, and I and the - missionary received him alone. Why, I do not know even now. I sat on a - high chair, and so did Mr Wu, and the missionary gave us both tea and - cakes, handing everything with both hands; that I believe is the correct - Chinese way of doing honour to your guest. I received it as a matter of - course, said “Thank you,” or “Please don't bother,” - whichever occurred to me, but Mr Wu was loud in his protestations, in both - Chinese and English, and I fancy the whole interview—unless I - spoiled it—was conducted in a manner which reflected infinite credit - upon the missionary's knowledge of Chinese customs and the secretary's - best manners. They certainly were very elaborate. This day he had on what - one of my naval brothers was wont to designate a dog-robbing suit, though - I don't know that he ever went out dog-robbing, and I am quite sure - the young Chinese gentleman never did, also his hair was neatly parted in - the middle and plastered down on each side, and with a high collar and tie - on, he looked really as uncomfortable and <i>outré</i> as it was possible - to look. He had brought me the tickets, and implored me if I wanted - anything else to ask for it. The interview was a trial to me. It is all - very well to be prepared to smile, but smiles don't really fill up - more than a minute or two, and what on earth to say during the rest of the - time, troubled me. In all the wide world, and I felt it acutely, we had - absolutely nothing in common save those tickets, and my heart sank when he - told me he would do himself the honour of showing me over the palace - himself. If I felt half an hour with him, for all my gratitude for his - kindliness, an intolerable burden, what on earth should I feel the - livelong day. One piece of news he did tell us, there had been fighting in - Mongolia, severe fighting, and many men had been killed, but when we came - to ask which side had won he said he did not know, and then of course we - guessed the Chinese had suffered a reverse, for if the telegraph could - tell any details at all, it was sure to have told the all-important one - which side was the conqueror. At last, when it seemed that hour had been - interminable, the young man rose, and the farewells began. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0049" id="linkimage-0049"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0399.jpg" alt="0399 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0399.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Those Chinese farewells! Chinese etiquette is enough to cure the most - enthusiastic believer in form and ceremony, to reduce him to the belief - that a simple statement of fact, a “Yea, yea,” and “Nay, - nay,” are amply sufficient. I suppose all this form and ceremony, - this useless form and ceremony, comes from the over-civilisation of China. - If ever in the future I am inclined to cavil at abrupt modern manners, I - shall think of that young man protesting that the missionary must not come - to the gate with him, when all the while he knew he would have been deeply - offended if he had not. I fear lest I may now swing over to the other side - and say that a rude abruptness is a sign of life, so much better does it - seem to me than the long elaborate and meaningless politeness that hampers - one so much. - </p> - <p> - When he had gone we discussed the question of a visit to the Imperial - Park, and then I found that <span class="pagenum">286</span><a - name="link286" id="link286"></a>there were many things in the way of my - entertaining my hosts, prayer meetings, dispensary afternoons, visits, and - that in any case, only the women would accompany me, whether that was - really because the men were busy, or because it was not Chinese etiquette - for men and women to amuse themselves together I do not know, but I - strongly suspect the latter had something to do with it. For of course - what the foreigners did, more especially the new foreign woman, who was - not a missionary, was a matter of common talk in all the district round. - Then my hostess put it to me, as I had plenty of tickets and to spare, - would I take their amah. She was most anxious to go. She had been in - service with a Manchu family, and once when they were going she had been - ill, and once it had rained so that she had never gone, and she was - getting an old woman and feared her chances were dwindling sadly. - </p> - <p> - It was such a little thing to want, and yet I don't know. When I - looked at the hideous town, for Cheng Teh Fu remains in my mind as the - ugliest Chinese town I have ever seen it had not the charm and fascination - that walls give, when I thought of the delights that lay hidden behind the - fifteen miles of high wall that surround the Park, the delights that are - for so very, very few, I did not wonder that the Manchu woman, who already - counted herself old, she was forty-five, should have been very anxious to - go inside. And when I told her I would take her, she immediately begged - leave to go away and put on her best clothes. I couldn't see any - difference between her best clothes and her everyday clothes, but I could - see she had a small shaven grandchild in attendance, who was immediately - put on to carry my umbrella. I suppose she hoped to smuggle him in to see - the delights, and I said nothing, for I had plenty of tickets. - </p> - <p> - Curiously enough, while most of China has been a sealed book, the Hunting - Palace—it is really better described as a Lodge—of the Manchus - has been known to the English for one hundred and twenty years, for it was - here that, on the 9th September, 1793, the Emperor Ch'ien Lung - received Lord Macartney, the first British Ambassador to China. I did not - come straight from Peking, but I know that the road, by valley and - mountain pass, is reckoned very bad indeed, and very few people as yet - take the trouble to go to Jehol. It is four and a half days' hard - travelling now, but Lord Macartney took seven, and it is a curious - commentary upon the state of the roads in the British Isles in those days - that though his chronicler, Sir George Staunton, writing of the journey, - complains a little of the roads, and mentions that Lord Macartney's - carriage, which he had brought out from England with him, had generally to - be dragged along empty, while the “Embassador” himself rode in - a palankeen, he does not make much moan about them; no one reading his - account would think they were so appalling as they must have been, for I - cannot think they have deteriorated much since those days. When I looked - at the streets of Cheng Teh Fu, banks, dust heaps, great holes, stones, I - tried to imagine the British “Embassador's” coach being - dragged across them, twisting round corners, balancing on sidings, up to - the axles in dust, or perhaps mud, for it was September and the crowd - looking on at the lord from the far islands of the sea, who was bringing - tribute to the Emperor of China, <span class="pagenum">288</span><a - name="link288" id="link288"></a>for I am afraid it is hardly likely they - believed he was doing anything else. - </p> - <p> - Another thing Sir George Staunton notes is the scarcity of timber. “The - circumjacent hills,” he writes, “appeared to have been once - well planted with trees; but those few which remained were stunted, and - timber has become very scarce. No young plantations had been made to - supply the old ones cut down.” Now the hills round are absolutely - bare, there is not a sign that ever a tree has grown upon them, and I - should not have believed they had, had it not been for Sir George Staunton's - account. - </p> - <p> - And on the other side of this ugly town, among these desolate hills, is - set a wall, a wall about twenty feet high, with a broad pathway on the - top, along which the guards might walk. And the wall has been built with - discretion. Not only was it to keep out all but the elect, but it was to - block effectually all view of what went on inside. Not even from the - neighbouring hills is it possible to look into that Park. Its delights - were only for the Son of Heaven and those who ministered to his - well-being. - </p> - <p> - We went along a sordid, dusty street to the principal gate, a shabby and - forlorn-looking gate, and the watch-tower over it was crumbling to decay, - and we entered the courtyard, a forlorn and desolate courtyard, where the - paving-stones were broken, and the grass and weeds were coming up between - the cracks. Then there was a long pathway with a broken pavement in the - middle, a pavement so characteristic of China that wherever I chance to - see such I shall think of her golden sunshine and bright skies. On either - side of that pathway were high walls over which were peeping the tiled - roofs of <span class="pagenum">289</span><a name="link289" id="link289"></a>buildings, - until at last after fully five minutes' walk, after passing through - many gates, all in various stages of decay, we came to a place where the - path ended with two doors to the right and left. This, the palace of an - Emperor; it seemed impossible to believe it. I wondered if the woman who - had wanted for so many years to see it was disappointed. She was - supporting my elbow, true Chinese fashion, and Tuan, having succeeded in - passing on my camera to the usual ragged follower, was on the other side, - as if I were in the last stages of decrepitude. At first this exceeding - attention used to irritate me, but by this time I had resigned myself to - my fate. I was more concerned at the shabbiness and sordidness of - everything. Of course no one save the servants, who keep the place, live - in the grounds now, no one has lived there for over fifty years, not since - 1860, when the reigning Emperor fled there from the Allies who sacked - Peking, and died there. Perhaps it was for that reason that his secondary - wife, the great Dowager-Empress whom all the world knew, disliked the - place, and went there no more. I remembered that, as I stood between those - two doors and wondered which I should go through first. The one to the - left led to some courtyards surrounded by low, one-storied buildings—Emperor's - first bedroom—said Tuan, and possibly he was right. I turned to the - door on the right and as it opened I knew that these Manchu - pleasure-grounds had been planned, as so many things Chinese are planned, - nobly. I stepped out on to a plateau and there, there in this treeless - China, was a grove of firs and pines. The blue sky peeped through the - branches, the sunshine dappled the ground with shadow and light, and the - wind <span class="pagenum">290</span><a name="link290" id="link290"></a>murmured - softly among the evergreen foliage. Here was coolness and delight. Beyond - the plateau lay a long grassy valley surrounded by softly rounded, - tree-clad hills, and right at the bottom of the valley was a lake with - winding shores, a lake covered with lotus lilies, with islands on it, with - bridges and buildings, picturesque as only the ideal Chinese buildings can - be picturesque. It may have been created by art, and at least art must - have entered to some great extent into the making of the beauty, but there - is no trace of it. My followers looked at the scene and looked at me, as - much as to say this was something belonging to them they were showing me, - and they hoped I was appreciating it properly. It might have been the - Manchu woman's very own. In truth I could only look and wonder, lost - in admiration. What could the heart of man want more for the glorious - summertime, the brief, hot summer of Northern China? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0050" id="linkimage-0050"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0405.jpg" alt="0405 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0405.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The first glance was a surprise, and the farther I went in the more my - wonder grew. There were paved pathways, but they were not aggressively - paved, the rough grey stones had just been sunk in the grass. They were - broken a little now, and they toned naturally with the rural surroundings. - There were lovely bridges bridging ravines, and here, too, was not one - stone too many, nothing to suggest the artificial, that so often spoils - the rural scene made to conform to the wants of the luxurious. Of course, - besides the pavement, other things had fallen into disrepair, there were - steps down hill-sides that were well-nigh hopeless for purposes of ascent - and descent, and there were temples where indeed the gods were forlorn and - forgotten. Gigantic gods they were <span class="pagenum">291</span><a - name="link291" id="link291"></a>with fearsome faces and painted in - gorgeous colours, but they were all dusty and dirty. There was one temple - all of bronze, but it was rusted and shabby. There were shrines in it set - with agate and jasper, mother-of-pearl and jade, and what looked like - great rubies, but, very likely, were only garnets. Shabby, forlorn, - forgotten was the temple, the steps that led up to it were broken and - almost unusable, the courtyards were neglected, the tiles of the roof - grass-grown, the woodwork of the doors perished, the walls falling, but - the situation on the hill-side, embosomed in pines, with the beautiful - lake at its feet and the wide vista of hills beyond, was superb, eternal. - </p> - <p> - On the day the missionaries arranged to come we made a picnic to this - temple, I, and the two missionary women and our attendants, my servant, - and their boy and the Manchu amah and all the heterogeneous! following my - boy always collected, and as we sat there at our open-air tiffin the gates - were pushed open and in came the little Chinese gentleman in his badly - fitting foreign clothes. - </p> - <p> - “Hallo, Missus,” he said, and I forgot for a moment all the - wonders that his people had done, that were here before my eyes. - </p> - <p> - He had come to fulfil his promise and show me round. - </p> - <p> - He was a flippant young gentleman impatient of the past, just as I have - seen young men of his age, in Western lands. He was only a boy, after all, - and he threw stones at the birds just as a younger boy might have done in - England. Only I wished he wouldn't. It was nice to think the birds - had sanctuary here, but I suppose it was a way of letting off steam, since - he could not talk very easily to the <span class="pagenum">292</span><a - name="link292" id="link292"></a>foreign woman. A small red squirrel, - sitting up deeply engaged with a nut from one of the fir-trees, roused him - to wild excitement, and he shouted and yelled to a couple of dignified, - petticoated Chinamen on the other side of the lake, in a way that quite - upset my ideas of Chinese propriety; in fact, he was the General's - secretary, showing off just as I have seen boys in other lands show off. - </p> - <p> - He took us to the women's temple, since we were interested in - temples, a temple away on the other side of the lake, down in a hollow of - the hills, hidden away as woman has been hidden away in China for - immemorial ages. - </p> - <p> - “Ladies' temple,” said our cicerone with a wave of his - hand. - </p> - <p> - And it, too, is falling into decay, the dusty gods, ranged round the - sacred place, remind one of the contents of a lumber-room, and “Forgotten, - forgotten,” is written large all over it. The forlorn old man in - shabby blue, with a tiny little queue and a dirty face who keeps it, looks - as if he too had been forgotten, and was grateful for a twenty-cent <i>cumshaw</i>. - Only the courtyard with the soft breeze rustling in the pine-trees and - ringing the musical bells that hung from the eaves was peaceful in the - afternoon sunshine, with a charm of its own. - </p> - <p> - What women have come and prayed here? The proud Manchu Empress whom her - lord had neglected, the Chinese concubine who longed to find favour in his - eyes? - </p> - <p> - All over this pleasure-ground are buildings, but so deftly placed they - never for one moment interfere with the charm of the countryside. There is - a little temple on the Golden Mountain where the Jehol River takes its - rise in a spring; on another hill is a little look-out place or tea pagoda - with the roof covered with tiles of imperial yellow, and a view from it - that even an Emperor is lucky to command. At the end of a long grassy - glade where the deer were feeding in the shade of oaks and willows was a - tall pagoda, and the Emperor's library was in another little valley, - hidden away behind high walls. We entered through a guard-house and came - upon a small door in the high stone wall, and this door on the inner side - appeared to be blocked not only by the trunk of a tree but by a huge rock. - There was, however, just room for one person to pass round, and then we - entered a shaded rock garden, which is all round the building that holds - the library. The deep veranda was charming, on the hottest day one might - sit, cool and secluded, reading here, and on each corner are exquisite - bronze models of Chinese ponies. The library itself, like most of these - houses, was sealed up, and our young friend had not the key, but the - lattice-work windows, and most of the walls are of lattice-work, for this - is a summer palace, were down to the ground, and through the torn paper I - could get a glimpse of what looked like another lumber-room, but that once - must have been gorgeous with red lacquer and gold. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0051" id="linkimage-0051"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0411.jpg" alt="0411 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0411.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Always it was the same, desolation and dirt and ruin, and the young man - who was showing us everything made as if he wished to impress upon us that - it did not matter. He belonged to the modern world, and these were past - and gone. But when we admired and were charmed and delighted I saw that - he, too, was pleased. - </p> - <p> - There were the Emperor's rooms opening into a courtyard close to the - gate, there were his great audience halls down among a grove of firs, - where probably he received Lord Macartney. Highly scented white single - peonies made fragrant the grass-grown courtyards, where great bronze gongs - are the remnants of a past magnificence, and the rooms are many of them - empty, for all they are so carefully sealed. There were more rooms for the - Emperor on an island in the lily-covered lake; and reached by bridges that - are taken up in June and July and boats substituted, and farthest away of - all, at the very end of the lake, were the rooms of the Empress. - </p> - <p> - “Happiness Hall” the Emperor Kwang Hsi wrote on it with his - own hands, or so our guide told us, and there to this day the golden - characters remain. Did they speak the truth, I wonder. At that particular - period, I believe, the Empress counted for a great deal more than the - Emperor, so possibly at least the envious Emperor felt he was speaking the - truth; but, as a rule, it is difficult to think that the woman who shared - the Dragon Throne could have been happy. It is difficult to believe that - any woman in China can be happy, she counts for so little even now. - </p> - <p> - The courtyards were like all the other courtyards, with great gongs of - Ningpo work and bronze vases, and shaded by picturesque pine-trees, only - here was an innovation. In a sheltered corner, hidden away from the sight - of all, by high walls and green shrubs, was the bathing-place of the Court - ladies, and on the other side their theatre. - </p> - <p> - The Emperor had a theatre not far from the gate of the pleasure-grounds, a - great place all falling into decay, and here they had a play for the - entertainment <span class="pagenum">295</span><a - name="link295_rdquo_________id_" id="link295_rdquo_________id_"></a>of - their guests, when the first British Ambassador came here, and it is - evident that the women were allowed to be present, even though they were - behind a screen, for Sir George Staunton relates that the only foreigner, - seen by these secluded women, was George Staunton aged thirteen, the page - to the Embassy, who was led on to a platform by a eunuch, so that the - wives and concubines of the Emperor might see what a barbarian from the - islands of the far Western sea looked like. - </p> - <p> - But here, close to her rooms, and by her bathing-place, the Empress had - her own private theatre, and I wondered what manner of play could interest - such secluded ladies, such narrow lives. - </p> - <p> - Wonderful to relate both the theatre and the roof of the rooms showed - signs of having been recently done up. The rumour ran that after the - Revolution in February 1912, the Court thought of retiring here, and these - recent repairs in a place that has been untouched for years give colour to - the rumour. We asked our guide as we sat at afternoon tea on the veranda - looking out at the sunlight coming through the fir-trees that make the - approach to “Happiness Hall,” but he shook his head. He knew - nothing about it. He was a most circumspect young man and never did know - anything, he felt perhaps it was wisest not. - </p> - <p> - Oh but it was sad the waste here. All these dwelling-places dotted about - in the valley, on hillside, hidden away in groves of trees, are of one - story, they are summer palaces, but the rooms are well-proportioned, and - with their wide verandas and their lattice-work walls down to the ground, - must have been delightful to live in, and they were furnished as <span - class="pagenum">296</span><a name="link296" id="link296"></a>an Emperor's - palace should be furnished. There were chairs unlike the usual Chinese - chairs, comfortable chairs of red lacquer and blackwood, and they were - inlaid with cloisonne work, with carved jade, with delightful patterns in - mother-of-pearl, there were stools, there were tables, there were low k'ang - tables of lacquer, and all were perished with the sun and the wind; of not - one piece has any care been taken. Some of the rooms were empty, some were - full of packing-cases hiding I know not what treasures; judging by those - perishing chairs and tables that were left out, I should imagine something - worth possessing. Can it be only fifty years since an Emperor came here, - it might be two hundred judging by the state of decay everything was in, - and yet, when all was said and done, this place struck me as being the - most magnificent pleasure-ground, the most beautifully situated, the most - beautifully planned, that I have ever seen, worth, and more than worth, - the arduous journey through the mountains that I had taken to see it. - </p> - <p> - It is supposed to be cut off from the people, and it is I suppose, judging - by the joy the mission servants expressed at getting a chance to see it. - </p> - <p> - “All my life,” said the amah, “I have served in Manchu - families, and yet see, it is through a foreigner I come here,” and - it was as if the seeing had crowned her life. But still there is a little - dribbling in of the favoured few of the lower classes. It may be they were - the palace servants who speared great black bass in the lake. It might - have been they who carried out baskets of lily root and sold them with the - fish outside. I bought bass easily enough for my hostess, great things - still alive and bleeding from women's temple. - </p> - <p> - Sometimes there are rumours of art treasures sold from the palace, and - then again it is contradicted: but I wondered, as I looked at those great - baskets of lily roots that were constantly going outside, if here were not - an excellent way to conceal contraband. It may be though that the guards - at the gate are not to be bought, and possibly I do them an injustice. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0052" id="linkimage-0052"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0417.jpg" alt="0417 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0417.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - I had written this and felt apologetic for my suspicions of the humble - guard, forgetting that this is China, where anything may happen, when - before my book could go to press a greater than the guard, no less a - person than the Premier himself, Hsiung Hsi Ling, the great Tartar - General, was accused of taking away the precious curios from Jehol. He had - brought away curios valued at tens of thousands of pounds but he succeeded - in proving to the satisfaction of the President that he had brought them - away only that they might be stored in one of the great museums in Peking, - where not only could they be cared for, but they might be seen by far more - people. Again I thought of the Babylonish gentleman. Doubtless he, too, - would have moved the nation's treasures from one place to another - without saying by your leave to any man. To whom was he responsible? - Perhaps to the King upon the throne. Hardly to him, if his army was strong - and faithful. - </p> - <p> - We lingered on the veranda of the Empress's house over our afternoon - tea—wherever we went hot water was procurable—and the sunshine - came through the branches of the pines and firs, the great willows dipped - their weeping branches in the clear waters of the lake, the deep blue of - the sky contrasted <span class="pagenum">298</span><a name="link298" - id="link298"></a>with the green of the pine-needles, and a long snake came - slowly, slowly, through the grass to take his daily drink, unperturbed, - though all the servants and the German girl and I ran to look at him. He - knew he was quite safe, no one would harm a sacred snake. A small eagle - screamed from the rocks above, there was the mourning of a dove, the - plaintive cry of a hoopoe, and a chattering black and white magpie looked - on. A tiny blue kingfisher, like a jewel, fluttered on to a stone, and a - bird something like a thrush, sang sweetly and loudly as the evening - shadows lengthened. A great blue crane, tall almost as a man flew slowly - across the water, and the brown deer clustered in the glades and began to - feed. Truly it was an ideal spot up among the barren hills of Inner - Mongolia, this Park enclosed by miles of high wall and still carefully - guarded and jealously secluded by the Republic as it was by the Manchus. - When France became a Republic they threw open her palaces and desecrated - her most holy places. Not so here in the unchanging East. What was - secluded and difficult of entrance in Manchu times is secluded and entered - only by favour still. China absorbs the present and clings to the past. - Are they past for ever those dead and gone rulers who made these - pleasure-grounds? - </p> - <p> - Their last representative is a little boy hidden away in the heart of - Peking, hardly realising yet what he has lost. - </p> - <p> - “If he comes again,” said a Chinese gentleman, “he will - be Emperor by force of arms.” - </p> - <p> - Will the power come back to him? I can no more believe that the Chinese - will become a modern nation, forgetting these glories of their past, than - could the women's bathing place. <span class="pagenum">299</span><a - name="link299" id="link299"></a>prophet believe that the Lord would leave - His chosen people in captivity. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0053" id="linkimage-0053"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0421.jpg" alt="0421 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0421.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “I will bring again the captivity of my people of Israel, and they - shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant - vineyards, and drink the wine thereof; they shall also make gardens and - eat the fruit of them. - </p> - <p> - “And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be - pulled out of their land, which I have given them, saith the Lord thy God.” - </p> - <p> - And we from the mission wended our way back through the dusty, dirty, - commonplace streets, and the little gentleman who had been our guide, much - to his relief, I am sure, for he spoke little English, and he would not - speak Chinese, turned off at the yamen. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD GODS - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">300</span><a name="link300" id="link300"></a> - </h3> - <p> - Legend of the birth of Ch'ien Lung—A valley of temples—Wells—A - temple fair—Hawking—Suicide's rock—Five hundred - and eight Buddhas—The Po-Ta-La—Supercilious elephants—Steep - steps—Airless temple—The persevering frog—Bright-roofed - Temple—Tea at the Temple of the great Buddha—The Yuan T'iing—Ming - Temple outside Peking. - </p> - <p> - As we walked in the Manchu Park the amah told us a story, a legend, and - the missionary translated it to me. It took a long while to tell, first - she slipped on the rocky steps and we had to wait till she recovered, then - the General's secretary joined us, and finally, when we were safe - back at the missionary compound, she had to wait till we got by ourselves, - because she thought it was improper! - </p> - <p> - And this was the story the amah told as we walked beneath the fir-trees. - </p> - <p> - Once upon a time in the valley of Jehol there was born a little girl who - did not speak till she was three years old, then she opened her lips, - looked at her grandfather, and called him by name. And her grandfather - died. She did not speak again for a long time, but the next person she - called by name also died and consternation reigned in the family. Her - father and mother died, whether because she spoke to them the amah did not - know, but she was left penniless and at last a farmer took compassion - <span class="pagenum">301</span><a name="link301" id="link301"></a>upon - the girl, now just growing into womanhood, and told her she might have - charge of the ducks, on condition she did not speak. So for her began a - lonely, silent life among the mountains, herding the ducks. - </p> - <p> - One night as the dusk was falling and the duck pond and the hills beyond - were wrapped in a mysterious haze that hid and glorified everything, there - came along an old man riding a donkey and asked her the way to the Hunting - Palace of the Manchus that was somewhere among these hills and valleys. He - had lost his way, he said, and wanted to get back there. The girl looked - at him with mournful eyes and shook her head without saying a word. - </p> - <p> - “What is your name?” cried the old man. - </p> - <p> - She turned away silently. - </p> - <p> - “I must find my way,” he added, and she took up a stick and - gathered her ducks together. - </p> - <p> - “But I am the Emperor,” said he, “and I must get back. - What manner of girl are you who will not speak to the Emperor?” - </p> - <p> - And she looked at him more gravely than ever out of her dark eyes, and - drove off her ducks, taking no more notice of the greatest ruler in the - world than if he had been a common coolie. So the Emperor found his own - way to his Hunting Palace, and that night he dreamed a dream, a vivid - dream, that an ancestor had come to him and told him he must marry a - strange and mysterious woman. - </p> - <p> - But the women who came to the ruler of the earth were not strange and - mysterious, they were ordinary and commonplace even though he had his - choice of the women of his Empire. He brooded over the matter and came to - the conclusion that the strange <span class="pagenum">302</span><a - name="link302" id="link302"></a>and mysterious woman must be the girl he - had met herding ducks in the dusk of the evening. Then he sent out to the - part of the country where he had wandered that night and demanded the - daughters of the farmer. - </p> - <p> - The good man was highly honoured and dressed his girls in their finest - clothes to appear before their Emperor, but, and they must have been - bitterly disappointed, though they were pretty girls, there was nothing - strange about them, they were as ordinary as all the other women who - occupied, the women's quarters. He had seen many, many, like them. - Again he sent back to the farm and they said there were no other women - there but the girl who herded the ducks, and it could not be she because - she spoke to no one. - </p> - <p> - “That,” said the Emperor, “is the girl,” and he - ordered her to be properly arrayed and brought before him at once. - </p> - <p> - Alas for the glamour that comes with the dusk of the evening. The girl had - grown up without any comeliness and when she was brought before the - Emperor he turned away disgusted. Nevertheless, for his dream's - sake, he married her and gave her a fine house to live in, but he had - nothing to do with her, she was his wife only in name. - </p> - <p> - And the duck-herd girl, come to high estate, pined because she did not - find favour in the sight of her lord, she never ceased to pray for his - smiles, and at last she so worked upon him that one night he did send for - her. She was his wife, her shame had gone from her. And presently, it was - rumoured that the duck-herd girl was to become a mother. But the Emperor - was angry, he could not believe the child was his, and he turned Her out - to wander, desolate and forlorn, upon the hills. At first she despaired, - but presently she took courage, had she not been raised from a duck-herd - to an Emperor's wife, and was she not to bear his son, and by her - faith in herself she persuaded some shepherds who tended their sheep upon - the other side of the valley from the wall that surrounded the Emperor's - pleasure-grounds to take her in, and here her son was born. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0054" id="linkimage-0054"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0427.jpg" alt="0427 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0427.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And that night the Emperor dreamed another dream. He dreamed that a most - illustrious son had been born to him that very night. He sent to make - inquiries and the only one of his wives or concubines who had borne a son - that night, was the woman he had driven from him with contumely. So he - took her back with honour, and his dream—both his dreams were - fulfilled, for the son that was born to him that night among the hills was - the illustrious Ch'ien Lung, the man who at eighty-three still sat - upon the Dragon Throne when George III. of England sent Lord Macartney on - an embassy to China in 1793. - </p> - <p> - And Ch'ien Lung was a good son to his mother at least, and because - she was a pious woman, and he was born amidst those sheltering hills, he - built there a series of temples to the glory of God and for her pleasure. - </p> - <p> - I was bound to go and see those temples, indeed I think the man or woman - who went to Jehol and did not make a point of going up that valley must - lack something. - </p> - <p> - The drawback for me was that I had to go in a Peking cart, and even though - those temples were <span class="pagenum">304</span><a - name="link304_rdquo_________id_" id="link304_rdquo_________id_"></a>built - by an Emperor I had no reason to suppose that the road that led to them - was any better than the ordinary Chinese roads. It wasn't, but I don't - know that it was worse. Tuan engaged the old white mule of venerable - years, and I think that was an advantage, he went so slowly that often I - was able to walk. I did not propose to visit all of them, there is a - family likeness between all Chinese temples, whatever be the name of the - deity to whom they are dedicated, and seeing too many I should miss the - beauty of all. - </p> - <p> - It was a gorgeous June morning the day I set out, sitting as far forward - as I could in the cart with Tuan on the tail of the shaft and the carter - walking at the mule's head. All round one side of Cheng Teh Fu is - built up a high wall that the Chinese call a breakwater, and a breakwater - I believe it is indeed after the summer rains, though then, the Jehol - River ran just a shallow trickle at its foot. There were many little - vegetable gardens along here, the ground most carefully cultivated and - showing not a weed, not a stray blade of grass. “The garden of every - peasant contained a well for watering it,” writes Sir George - Staunton in 1793, “and the buckets for drawing up the water were - made of ozier twigs wattled or plaited, of so close a texture as to hold - any fluid.” He might have been writing of the peasants of today. As - I passed, with those selfsame buckets were they watering their gardens. - </p> - <p> - The people were streaming out of the town, most of them on foot, but there - were a few fat men and small-footed women on donkeys, and one or two of - the richer people, I noticed by the women's dresses they were mostly - Manchus, had blossomed out into <span class="pagenum">305</span><a - name="link305" id="link305"></a>Peking carts. For there was a fair at one - of the temples, a very minor temple; and a fair in China seems to be much - what it used to be in England, say one hundred, or one hundred and fifty - years ago. It attracts all the country people for miles round. Here they - were all clad in blue, save the lamas, who were in bright yellow and dingy - red. There were the people who came to worship, followed by the people who - came to trade, who must make money out of them, men buying, selling, - begging, men and women clad in neat blue cotton, and in the dingiest, - dirtiest rags, men gathering the droppings of the mules and donkeys, and—how - it made me think of the historical novels I used to love to read in the - days when novels fascinated me—gentlemen with hooded hawks upon - their wrists. All of them wended their way along this road, this beautiful - road, this very, very bad road, and I went along with them, the woman who - was not a missionary, who was travelling by herself, and who, - consequently, was an object of interest to all, far outrivalling the fair, - in attraction. It was a scene peculiarly Chinese, and it will be many a - long year before I forget it. - </p> - <p> - On the left-hand side rose a steep ridge well wooded for China, and on the - very top of the ridge ran the encircling wall that shut out all but the - favoured few from the pleasure-grounds of the Manchu Sovereigns. Six weeks - before, up among these mountains of Inner Mongolia, all the trees were - leafless, and on this day in June the leaves of the poplars and aspens, - acacias and oaks still retained the delicate, dainty green of early - spring, and on the right were the steep, precipitous cliffs over<span - class="pagenum">306</span><a name="link306" id="link306"></a>looking the - town. One of these cliffs goes by the sinister name of the “Suicide's - Rock.” The Chinese, though we Westerners are accustomed to regard - them as impassive, are at bottom an emotional people. They quarrel - violently at times, and one way of getting even with an enemy or a man who - has wronged them is to dare him to go over the “Suicide's - Rock.” To my Western notions it is not quite clear how the offender - is scored off, for the challenger must be prepared to accompany the - challenged on his dreadful leap. Yet they do it. Three times in the six - years the missionaries have been here have a couple gone over the cliff, - to be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. - </p> - <p> - But that sinister cliff was soon passed, and turning a little with the - wall we went up a valley, and up that valley for perhaps eight miles, - embosomed among the folds of the hills, hills for the most part steep, - rounded, and treeless, are the temples, red, and gold, and white, against - the green or brown of the hills. - </p> - <p> - To the glory of God! Surely. Surely. An ideal place for temples whoever - placed them there, artist or Emperor, holy man, or grateful son. - </p> - <p> - “Idols. Idols,” say the missionaries at Jehol sadly, those - good, kindly folk, whose life seemed to me an apology for living, a - dedication of their whole existence to the austere Deity they have set up. - But here I was among other gods. - </p> - <p> - “We go last first,” said Tuan, and I approved. There would be - no fear of my missing something I particularly wanted to see if they were - all on my homeward path. - </p> - <p> - “B-rrr! B-rrr! B-rrr!” cried my “cartee man” - encouraging his old mule, and as we went along the road, up the valley, - and everywhere in this treeless land, the temples were embowered in groves - of trees, sometimes fir-trees, sometimes acacia or white poplar, and - always on the road we passed the blue-clad people, and out of the carts - peeped the Manchu ladies with highly painted faces and flower-decked hair, - till at last we came to a halt under a couple of leafy acacia-trees, by a - bridge that had once been planned on noble lines. And bridges are needed - here, for the missionaries told me that a very little rain will put this - road, that is axle-deep in dust, five feet under water. But the bridge was - broken, the stones of the parapet were lying flat on one side; the stones - that led up to it were gone altogether. And as the bridge that led up to - it so was the temple. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0055" id="linkimage-0055"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0433.jpg" alt="0433 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0433.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0056" id="linkimage-0056"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0434.jpg" alt="0434 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0434.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Tuan, with some difficulty, made me understand it was the Temple of the - five hundred and eight Buddhas, and as I went in, attended by a priest in - the last stages of dirt and shabbiness, I saw rows upon rows of seated - Buddhas greater than life-size, covered with gold leaf that shone out - bright in the semi-darkness, with shaven heads and faces, sad and - impassive, gay, and laughing, and frowning. Dead gods surely, for the roof - is falling in, the hangings are tatters, and the dust of years lies thick - on floor, on walls, on the Buddhas themselves. There was a pot of sand - before one golden figure rather larger than the rest, and I burned incense - there, bowing myself in the House of Rimmon, because I do not think that - incense is often burned now before the dead god. - </p> - <p> - They are all dead these gods in the temples <span class="pagenum">308</span><a - name="link308" id="link308"></a>builded by a pious Emperor for his pious - mother. The next I visited was a lamaserie, built in imitation of the - Po-Ta-La in Lhasa. It climbs up the steep hill-side, story after story, - with here and there on the various stages a pine-tree, and the wind - whispers among its boughs that the Emperor who built and adorned it is - long since dead, the very dynasty has passed away, and the gods are - forgotten. Forgotten indeed. I got out of my cart at the bottom of the - hill, and the gate opened to me, because the General had sent to say that - one day that week a foreign woman was coming and she must have all - attention, else I judge I might have waited in vain outside those doors. - Inside is rather a gorgeous p'ia lou, flanked on either side by a - couple of elephants. I cannot think the man who sculptured them could ever - have seen an elephant, he must have done it from description, but he has - contrived to put on those beasts such a very supercilious expression it - made me smile just to look at them. - </p> - <p> - From that p'ia lou the monastery rises. Never in my life before have - I seen such an effect of sheer steep high walls. I suppose it must be - Tibetan, for it is not Chinese as I know the Chinese. Stage after stage it - rose up, showing blank walls that once were pinkish red, with square - places like windows, but they were not windows, they were evidently put - there to catch the eye and deepen the effect of steepness. Stage after - stage I climbed up steep and narrow steps that were closed alongside the - wall, and Tuan, according to Chinese custom, supported my elbow, as if it - were hardly likely I should be capable of taking another step. Also, - according to his custom, he had engaged a ragged follower to <span - class="pagenum">309</span><a name="link309" id="link309"></a>carry my - camera, and a half-naked little boy to bear the burden of the umbrella. I - don't suppose I should have said anything under any circumstances, - China had taught me my limitations where my servants were concerned, but - that day I was glad of his aid, for this Tibetan temple meant to me steep - climbing. I have no use for stairs. Stage after stage we went, and on each - platform the view became wider, far down the valley I could see, and the - hills rose range after range, softly rounded, rugged, fantastic, till they - faded away in the far blue distance. I had thought the Nine Dragon Temple - wonderful, but now I knew that those men of the Ming era who had built it - had never dreamed of the glories of these mountains of Inner Mongolia. I - was weary before I came to the last pine-tree, but still there was a great - walled, flat-topped building towering far above me, its walls the faded - pinkish red, on the edge of its far-away roof a gleam of gold. - </p> - <p> - The steps were so narrow, so steep, and so rugged, that if I had not been - sure that never in my life should I come there again I should have - declined to go up them, but I did go up, and at the top we came to a door, - a door in the high blind wall that admitted us to a great courtyard with - high walls towering all round it and a temple, one of the many temples in - this building, in the centre. The temple was crowded with all manner of - beautiful things, vases of cloisonné, figures overlaid with gold leaf, - hangings of cut silk, the chair of the Dalai Lama in gold and carved - lacquer-work, the mule-saddle used by the Emperor Ch'ien Lung, - lanterns, incense burners, shrines, all heaped together in what seemed to - me the wildest confusion, and everything was <span class="pagenum">310</span><a - name="link310" id="link310"></a>more than touched with the finger of - decay. All the rich, red lacquer was perished, much of the china and - earthenware was broken, the hangings were rotted and torn and ragged, the - paint was peeling from stonework and wood, the copper and brass was green - with rust. Ichabod! Ichabod! The gods are dead, the great Emperor is but a - name. - </p> - <p> - It was oppressive in there too, for the blank walls towered up four sides - square, the bright blue sky was above and the sun was shining beyond, but - the mountain breezes for at least one hundred and fifty years have not - been able to get in here, and it was hot, close, and airless. Once there - were more steps that led up to the very top of the wall, but they are - broken and dangerous now, crumbling to ruin, and as far as I could make - out from Tuan's imperfect English no one has been up them for many a - long day. There was nothing to be done but to go away from this airless - temple and make my way down, down to the platform where are its - foundations, and thence down, down, by the little plateaux where the - pine-trees grow, by the rough and broken paths to the floor of the valley - again. - </p> - <p> - Sightseeing always wearies me. I want to see these places, I want to know - what they are like, I want to be in a position to talk about them to - people who have also been there—they are the people who are most - interested in one's doings—but the actual doing of the - sightseeing I always find burdensome. Now having done so much I was - tempted to go back and say I had had enough, for the time being, at any - rate, but then I remembered I could not indefinitely trespass upon the - kindness of my hosts, I must go soon, and I should never, never come back - to this valley. Still I was desperately tired and sorely tempted to give - up, and then I remembered the two frogs who fell into a pitcher of milk. I - don't think Aesop told the story, but he ought to have done so. They - swam round and round hopelessly, for there was no possibility of getting - out, and one said to the other, “It's no good, we may as well - give in. It'll save trouble in the end,” and he curled up his - legs and sank to the bottom of the milk and was drowned. But the other - frog was made of sterner stuff. - </p> - <p> - “I think I'll just hustle round a bit,” said he, - needless to say he was an American frog, “who knows what may happen.” - So he swam round and round, and sure enough when they looked into that - pitcher in the morning there he was sitting on a little pat of butter! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0057" id="linkimage-0057"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0440.jpg" alt="0440 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0440.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - I thought of that frog as I sat at the door of the next temple we drove up - to, and I, weary and tired and a little cross, had to wait some time, for - the priest who had the keys was not there. Of course I had sent no word - that I was coming and it was unreasonable of me to expect that the priest - should wait from dawn till dark for my arrival. With me waited a little - crowd of people, men, women, and children, that gradually grew in numbers, - and when the custodian at last arrived it was evident they all intended to - take advantage of my presence and go in and see the temple too. I had not - the least objection, neither, it seemed, had the priest. They were - holiday-makers from the fair, and they probably gave him some small - trifle. Tuan decided that we should give eighty cents, roughly about one - and eightpence, or forty cents American money. <span class="pagenum">312</span><a - name="link312" id="link312"></a>And glad indeed was I that I had waited. - Not that the temple differed much inside the courtyard and the sanctuary - from the other temples I have seen, all was the same ruin and desolation, - only after I had climbed up many steps, roughly made of stones and earth, - we came upon a platform from which the roof was visible. The Emperor's - Palace, they call this, or the Bright-roofed Temple, and truly it is - well-named. Its roof, with dragons running up all four corners, is of - bronze covered with gold, and gleams and glitters in the sunshine. Solomon's - Temple, in all its glory, could not have been more wonderful, and as I - tried to photograph it, though no photograph can give any idea of its - beauty, some girls, Manchu by their head-dresses, with flowers in their - hair, giggled and pointed, and evidently discussed me. I thought they - would come in well—a contrast to that gorgeous roof, but a - well-dressed Chinese—not in foreign clothes, I imagine the General's - secretary is the only man up among these hills who could indulge in such - luxuries, drove them away and then came and apologised, through Tuan, for - their behaviour. I said, truly enough, that I did not mind in the least, - but he said, as far as I. could make out, that their behaviour was - unpardonable, so I am afraid they hadn't admired me, which was - unkind, considering I had taken them in. - </p> - <p> - The next temple, a mass of golden brown and green tiled roofs, looked - loveliest of all in its setting, against the hill-side. The roofs, broken - and irregular, peeped out from among the firs and pines, and there was a - soft melody in the air as we approached, for a wind, a gentle wind had - arisen, and every bell <span class="pagenum">313</span><a - name="link313_rdquo_________id_" id="link313_rdquo_________id_"></a>hanging - at the corners of the many roofs was chiming musically. I do not know any - sweeter sound than the sound of those temple bells as the evening falls. - This was an extensive place of many courtyards, climbing up the hill like - the lamaserie, the Ta Fo Hu they call it or “Great Buddha Temple,” - for in one of the temples, swept and garnished better than any temples I - had seen before, was a colossal figure seventy feet high with many arms - outstretched and an eye in the palm of every hand. It is surely a very - debased Buddhism, but I see the symbolism, the hand which bestows and the - eye which sees all things. But for all the beauty of the symbolism it was - ugly, as all the manifestations of the Deity, as conceived by man, are apt - to be. The stone flooring was swept, but the gold is falling from the - central figure, the lacquer is perished, the hangings are torn and - dust-laden beyond description, and the only things of any beauty are walls - which are covered with little niches in which are seated tiny golden - Buddhas, hundreds of them. I wanted to buy one but the priests shook their - heads, and it would have been a shame to despoil the temple. Even if they - had said, “Yes,” I don't know that I would have taken - it. - </p> - <p> - There were many priests here, shaven-headed old men and tiny children in - brilliant yellow and purplish red, but they were all as shabby and - poverty-stricken as the temple itself. I had tea on one of the many - platforms overlooking many roofs, and a young monk made me a seat from the - broken yellow tiles that lay on the ground, and the little boy priests - looked so eagerly at the cakes I had brought with me—the priests - gave me tea—that I gave some to them and <span class="pagenum">314</span><a - name="link314" id="link314"></a>they gobbled them up like small boys all - the world over. Tuan pointed out to me some dark steps in the wall. If I - went up there I should reach the Great Buddha's head; but I shook my - head, not even the recollection of the frog who gave up so easily could - have made me climb those steps. I am not even sorry now that I didn't. - </p> - <p> - I was very tired by this time, and very thankful that there was only one - more temple to see. There were really eight in all, but I was suffering - from a surfeit of temples, only I could not miss this one, for every day - when I went for a walk I could see its glorious golden brown tiled roof - amid the dark green of the surrounding mountain pines. It was unlike any - Chinese roof I have seen, but it is one of the temples of this valley. It - is the Yuan T'ing, a temple built by Ch'ien Lung, not for his - mother but for a Tibetan wife, after the style of her country, that she - might not feel so lonely in a strange land. - </p> - <p> - Its pinkish red arched walls and gateways seemed quite close, but it was - exceedingly difficult to get at, particularly for a tired woman who, when - she was not jolting in a Peking cart, had been climbing up more steps than - even now she cares to think about. And the temple, save for that roof, was - much like every other temple, a place of paved courtyards with the grass - and weeds growing up among the stones, and grass and even young pine-trees - growing on the tiled roofs. The altars were shabby and decayed, and when I - climbed up till I was right under the domed roof—and it was a steep - climb—more than once I was tempted to turn back and take it as read, - as they do long reports at meetings. I found the round chamber was the - roosting-place of many pigeons, all <span class="pagenum">315</span><a - name="link315" id="link315"></a>the lacquer was perished, the bronze - rusted, and though the attendant opened many doors with many keys, I know - that the place is seldom visited, and but for that vivid roof, it must be - forgotten. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0058" id="linkimage-0058"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0446.jpg" alt="0446 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0446.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And yet the people like to look at these things. There was not a crowd - following me as there was at the Bright-roofed Temple, but there was still - the ragged-looking coolie who was carrying my camera. I suspected him of - every filthy disease known in China, and their name must be legion, any - that had by chance escaped him I thought might have found asylum with the - boy who bore my umbrella. I hoped that rude health and an open-air life - would enable me to throw off any germs. These two, who had had to walk - where I had ridden, I pitied, so I told Tuan to say they need not climb up - as I had used up all my plates and certainly had no use for an umbrella. - </p> - <p> - “She say 'No matter,'” said Tuan including them - both in the feminine, “She like to come,” and I think he liked - it as well, for they escorted me with subdued enthusiasm round that domed - chamber inspecting what must have been a reproduction of a debased - Buddhist hell in miniature. It was covered with dust, faded, and - weather-worn, like everything else in the temple, but it afforded the four - who were with me great pleasure, and when with relief I saw a figure - instead of being bitten by a snake, or eaten by some gruesome beast, or - sawn asunder between two planks, merely resting in a tree, Tuan explained - with great gusto and evident satisfaction: “Spikes in tree.” - He took care I should lose none of the flavour of the tortures. But even - the tortures were faded and worn, the dust had settled on them, the air - and the sun <span class="pagenum">316</span><a - name="link316_rdquo_________id_" id="link316_rdquo_________id_"></a>had - perished them, and I could not raise a shudder. Dusty and unclean they - spoiled for me the beauty of the golden roof and the dark green mountain - pines. I was glad to go down the many steps again, glad to go down to the - courtyard where the temple attendant, who might have been a priest, but - was dressed in blue cotton and had the shaven head and queue that so many - of the Manchus still affect, gave me tea out of his tiny cups, seated on - the temple steps. A dirty old man he was, but his tea was perfect, and I - made up my mind not to look whether the cups were clean, for his manners - matched his tea. - </p> - <p> - And then I went out on to the broad cleared space in front, and feasted my - eyes for the last time on the golden brown tiled roof set amongst the - green of the pines, and clear-cut against the vivid blue of the sky. - </p> - <p> - And yet it is not the beauty only that appeals, there is something more - than that, for even as I look at those hills, I remember another temple I - visited just outside Peking, a little temple, and I went not by myself but - with a party of laughing young people. There was nothing beautiful about - this temple, the walls were crumbled almost to dust, the roof was falling - in, upon the tiles the grasses were growing, the green kaoliang crept up - to the forsaken altars, and the dust-laden wind of Northern China swept in - through the broken walls and caressed the forgotten gods who still in - their places look out serenely on the world beyond. - </p> - <p> - I could not but remember Swinburne, “Laugh out again for the gods - are dead.” Are they dead? Does anything die in China? <span - class="pagenum">317</span><a name="link317" id="link317"></a>In the Ming - Dynasty, some time in the fifteenth century, when the Wars of the Roses - were raging in England they built this little temple, nearly three hundred - years before Ch'ien Lung built the temples in the valley at Jehol, - and they installed the gods in all the glory of red lacquer and gold, and - when the last gold leaf had been laid on and the last touches had been - given to the dainty lacquer they walked out and left it, left it to the - soft, insidious decay that comes to things forgotten. For it must be - remembered, whether we look at this valley of dead gods or this little - temple outside Peking, that when a memorial is put up it is not expected - to last for ever, and no provision is made or expected for its upkeep. If - it last a year, well and good, so was the man to whom it was put up, - valued, and if it last a hundred years—if five hundred years after - it was dedicated there still remains one stone standing upon the other, - how fragrant the memory of that man must have been. It is five hundred - years since this temple was built and still it endures. Behind is the wall - of the city, grim and grey, but the gods do not look upon the wall, their - faces are turned to the south and the gorgeous sunshine. They still sit in - their places, but the little figures that once adorned the chamber are - lying about on the ground or leaning up disconsolately against the greater - gods, and some of them are broken. On the ground, in the dust, was a - colossal head with a face that reminded us that the silken robes of Caesar's - wife came from China, for that head was never modelled from any Mongolian, - dead or alive. A Roman Emperor might have sat for it. The faces that - looked down on it, lying there in the dust, were Eastern there were the - narrow <span class="pagenum">318</span><a name="link318" id="link318"></a>eyes, - the impassive features, the thin lips, but this, this was European, this - man had lived and loved, desired and mourned, and, for there was just a - touch of scorn on the lips, when he had drained life to its dregs, or - renounced its joys, said with bitterness: “All is vanity.” - </p> - <p> - And the Chinese peasants came and looked at the aliens having tiffin in - the shade, and for them our broken meats were a treat. One was crippled - and one was blind and one was covered with the sores of smallpox, so - hideous to look upon that the lady amongst us who prided herself upon her - good looks turned shuddering away and implored that they be driven off, - before we all caught the terrible disease. - </p> - <p> - What could life possibly hold for these people? Surely for them the gods - are dead? - </p> - <p> - I talked with an old woman, dirty and wrinkled, with a bald head and - maimed feet. - </p> - <p> - “She asks how old you are?” translated the young man beside - me. - </p> - <p> - “Tell her I am sixty.” I thought it would sound more - respectable. - </p> - <p> - “A-a-h!” She looked at me a moment. “She says,” he - went on translating, “that you have worn better than she has, for - she is sixty too. And have you any sons?” - </p> - <p> - For a moment I hesitated, but I was not going to lose face, what would she - think of a woman without sons, so I laid my hand on his arm, and smiled to - indicate that he was my son. - </p> - <p> - “A-a-h!” and she talked and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “What does she say?” He looked a little shy. “Tell me” - </p> - <p> - “She says you are to be congratulated,” and indeed he was a - fine specimen of manhood. “She says she has three sons.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0059" id="linkimage-0059"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0452.jpg" alt="0452 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0452.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And alas, alas, I had brought it on myself, for I was not to be - congratulated, I have no son, but I was answered too. I have called the - gods dead, but they are not dead. What if the temple crumbles? There is - the cloudless sky and the growing green around it. This woman was old, and - grey, and bent. The gods have given her three sons, and she is content. - This child had the smallpox, and by and by when it shall have passed—Ah - but that is beyond me. What compensation can there be for the scarred face - and blinded eyes? Only if we understood all things, perhaps the savour - would be gone from life. Behind all is the All Merciful, the dead gods in - the temples are but a manifestation of the Great Power that is over all. - </p> - <p> - I thought of that little temple outside the walls of Peking, and the old - woman who congratulated me on the son I had not as I stood taking my last - look at the Yuan T'ing. And then I looked again away down the valley - to the folds of the hills where the other temples nestled, embowered in - trees. Far away I could see the sheer walls of the Po Ta La climbing up - the hill-side golden and red and white with the evening sunlight falling - upon them, and making me feel that just so from this very spot at this - very hour they should be looked at, and then I went down, a ten minutes' - weary scramble, I was very, very tired, to my cart and across the Jehol - River again, back to the missionary compound. - </p> - <p> - Never again shall I visit that valley of temples that lies among the hills - of Inner Mongolia, never again, and though, of course, since the days of - <span class="pagenum">320</span><a name="link320" id="link320"></a>Marco - Polo Europeans have visited it, it is so distant, so difficult to come at - that they have not gone in battalions. But those temples in the folds of - the hills are beautiful beyond dreaming, and though their glory has gone, - still in their decay, with the eternal hills round and behind them, they - form a fitting memorial to the man who set them there to the glory of God - and for his humble mother's sake. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII—IN A WUPAN - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">321</span><a name="link321" id="link321"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The difficulties of the laundry—A friend in need—A strange - picnic party—The authority of the parent—Travelling in a mule - litter—Rain—A frequented highway—Yellow oiled paper—Restricted - quarters—Dodging the smoke—“What a lot you eat!”—Charm - of the river—Modest Chinamen—The best-beloved grandchild—The - gorges of the Lanho—The Wall again—Effect of rain on the - Chinaman—The captain's cash-box—A gentleman of Babylon—Lanchou.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now it was time - to bid farewell to my kind hosts and start back to Peking. Thank goodness - it was going to be fairly easy. Instead of the abominable cart I was going - to float down the River Lan in a wupan, a long, narrow, flat-bottomed - boat. - </p> - <p> - First I sent my servant with my card to the Tartar General to thank him - for all his kindness. This brought Mr Wu down again with the General's - card at the most awkward hour of course, in the middle of tiffin, and Mr - Wu, much to my surprise, was dignified and even stately in full Chinese - dress. He was all grey and black. His petticoat or coat or whatever it is - called was down to his ankles and was of silk, he wore a little sleeveless - jacket, and his trousers were tied in with neat black bands at his neat - little ankles. So nice did he look, such a contrast to the commonplace - little man I had seen before, that I felt obliged to admire him openly. - Besides, I am <span class="pagenum">322</span><a - name="link322_rdquo_________id_" id="link322_rdquo_________id_"></a>told - that is quite in accordance with Chinese good manners. - </p> - <p> - He received my compliments with a smile, and then explained the reason of - the change. - </p> - <p> - “Must send shirt, collar, Tientsin, be washed. I very poor man, no - more got.” - </p> - <p> - And Tientsin was three or four days by river, sometimes much more, as well - as five hours by train! I felt he had indeed done me an honour when he had - used up his available stock of linen in my entertaining, and to think I - had only admired him when he was in native dress! - </p> - <p> - Another Chinese gentleman came in that day and was introduced to me. He - contented himself with Chinese dress, and he had more English, though it - was of a peculiar order. - </p> - <p> - “But I hate to hear people laugh at Mr Chung's English,” - said the missionary who was a man of the world. “He was a good - friend to me and mine. If it hadn't been for him, I doubt if I or my - wife or children would be here now.” - </p> - <p> - It was the time of the Boxer trouble, and the missionary was stationed at - Pa Kou where Mr Chung had charge of the telegraph station. The - missionaries grew salads in their garden, which the head of the telegraphs - much appreciated, and even when he felt it wiser not to be too closely in - touch with the foreigners, he still sent down a basket for a salad - occasionally. One day in the bottom of the basket he put a letter. “The - foreign warships are attacking the Taku Forts,” it ran, “better - get away. I am keeping back the news.” - </p> - <p> - But the missionary could not get away. Up and down the town he went, but - he could get no carts. <span class="pagenum">323</span><a - name="link323_rdquo_________id_" id="link323_rdquo_________id_"></a>All - the carters raised their prices to something that was prohibitive, even - though death faced them. And then came the basket again for more salads - and in the bottom was another letter. - </p> - <p> - “The foreign ships have taken the Taku Forts,” it said. - “I am keeping back the news. Go away as soon as possible.” - </p> - <p> - And then the missionary spoke outright of his dilemma, and Mr Chung went - to the Prefect of the town and enlisted him on their side. The carters - were sent for. - </p> - <p> - “You would not go,” said the Prefect, “when this man - offered you a great sum of money,” it sounded quite Biblical as he - told it. “Now you will go for the ordinary charge or I will take off - your heads.” - </p> - <p> - So two carts were got, and the missionary, his wife, and children, and as - much of their household goods as they could take, were hustled into them, - and they started off for the nearest port. - </p> - <p> - “If ever I am in a hole again I hope I travel with such women,” - said the missionary; “they were as cheerful as if it was a - picnic-party.” - </p> - <p> - All went well for a couple of days, and then one day, passing through a - town, a man came up and addressed them, and said he was servant to some - Englishmen, a couple of mining engineers, who were held up in this town, - because they had heard there was an ambush laid for all foreigners a - little farther down the road. And the missionaries had thought they were - the last foreigners left in the country! - </p> - <p> - They promptly sought out the Englishmen, who confirmed the boy's - story. It was not safe to go farther. The little party decided to stick - together, <span class="pagenum">324</span><a name="link324" id="link324"></a>and - finally the missionary went to the Prefect and told him how the Prefect at - Pa Kou had helped them, and suggested it would be wise to do likewise, - especially as the foreigners were sure to win in the end. - </p> - <p> - The Prefect considered the matter and finally promised to help them, - provided they put themselves entirely in his hands and said nothing, no - matter what they heard. It seemed a desperate thing to do to put - themselves entirely in the hands of their enemies, but it was the only - chance, that chance or Buckley's and Buckley, says the Australian - proverb, never had a chance. They agreed to the Prefect's terms; he - set a guard of soldiers over them, and they travelled surrounded by them. - But at first they were very doubtful whether they had been wise in - trusting a man who was to all intents and purposes an open enemy. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you get them?” asked the people of the soldiers as - they passed. And the soldiers detailed at length their capture. - </p> - <p> - “And what are you going to do with them?” And the soldiers - always said that, by the orders of the Prefect of the town where they had - been captured, they were taking them on to be delivered over to the proper - authorities, who would know what to do with them, doubtless the least that - could happen would be that they would have their heads taken off. - </p> - <p> - And the man who told me the story had lived through such days as that. Had - seen his wife and children live through them! - </p> - <p> - But the Prefect was as good as his word, the soldiers saw them through the - danger-zone to safety. - </p> - <p> - “But if it had not been for Mr Chung in the first <span - class="pagenum">325</span><a name="link325" id="link325"></a>instance———-” - says the missionary, and his gratitude was in his voice. - </p> - <p> - And Mr Chung had his own troubles. He was progressive and modern, not, I - think, Christian, and he had actually himself taught his daughters to - read. Also he had decided not to bind their feet. And then, the pity of it—and - the extraordinary deference that is paid to elders in China—there - came orders from his parents in Canton—he must be a man over forty—the - daughters' feet were to be bound. - </p> - <p> - I was glad indeed to have heard the story of Mr Chung before I set out on - my journey. - </p> - <p> - The Lanho is seven miles, a two hours' journey by mule litter or - cart from Cheng Teh Fu, and I decided to go by litter and send my things - by cart, for, not only did I object to a cart, but I thought I would like - to see what travelling by mule litter was like. I am perfectly satisfied - now—I don't ever want to go by one again. - </p> - <p> - I had to get in at the missionary compound, because it takes four men to - lift a litter on to the mules, and there was only one to attend to it. It - was early in the morning, only a little after six, but all the - missionaries walked about a mile of the way with me—I felt it was - exceedingly kind of them, because it was the only time I ever saw men and - women together outside the compound—then they bade me good-bye, and - I was fairly started on my journey. I sat in my litter on a spring - cushion, lent me for the cart by a Chinese gentleman, and I endeavoured to - balance myself so that the litter should not—as it seemed to me to - be threatening to do—turn topsy-turvy. It made me rather - uncomfortable at first, because once in there is no way of getting out - without <span class="pagenum">326</span><a name="link326" id="link326"></a>lifting - the litter off the mules. You may indeed slip down between it and the - leading mule's hind legs, but that proceeding strikes me as - decidedly risky, for a mule can kick and his temper does not seem to be - improved by having the shafts of a litter on his back. - </p> - <p> - It was a cloudy morning and it threatened rain. I had only seen one day's - rain since I had been in China. The scenery was wild and grand. We went - along by the Jehol River, on the edge of one range of precipitous - mountains, while the other, on the other side of the river, towered above - us. We were going along the bottom of a valley, as is usual in this part - of the world, but as the Jehol is a flowing river and takes up a good part - of the bottom, we very often went along a track that was cut out of the - mountain-side. The white mule in front with the jingling bells and red - tassels on his collar and headstall, always preferred the very edge, so - that when I looked out of the left-hand side of my litter, I looked down a - depth of about thirty or forty feet, as far as I could guess, into the - river-bed below. I found it better not to look. Not that it was very deep - or that there was any likelihood of my going over. I am fully convinced, - in spite of the objurgations showered upon him by the driver, that that - white mule knew his business thoroughly. Still it made me uncomfortable to - feel so helpless. - </p> - <p> - And the way was very busy indeed, even thus early in the morning. All - sorts of folk were going along it, there were heavy country carts drawn by - seven strong mules, they were taking grain to the river to be shipped - “inside the Wall,” and the road that they followed was - abominable. Every now and <span class="pagenum">327</span><a name="link327" - id="link327"></a>again they would stick in the heavy sand or ruts, or - stones of the roadway—everything that should not be in a road, - according to our ideas, was there—and the driver would promptly - produce a spade and dig out the wheels, making the way for the next cart - that passed worse than ever. Two litters passed us empty, and we met any - number of donkeys laden, I cannot say with firewood, but with bundles of - twigs that in any other country that I know would not be worth the - gathering, much less the transport, but would be burnt as waste. And there - were numberless people on foot, this was evidently a much-frequented - highway, since it was busy now when it was threatening rain, for no - Chinese go out in the rain if they can help it. I thoroughly sympathise, I - should think twice myself before going if I had but one set of clothes and - nowhere to dry them if they got wet. The hill-sides were rocky and - sterile, but wherever there was a flat place, wherever there was a little - pocket of fertile ground, however inaccessible it might appear, it was - carefully cultivated, so was all the valley bottom along the banks of the - river, and all this ground was crying out for the rain. And then presently - down it came, heavy, pouring rain such as I had only seen once before in - China. It drove across our pathway like a veil, all the rugged hills were - softened and hidden in a grey mist, and my muleteer drew over and around - me sheets of yellow oiled paper through which I peered at the surrounding - scenery. I wasn't particularly anxious to get wet myself, because I - did not see in an open boat how on earth I was ever to get dry again, and - three or four days wet or even damp, would not have been either - comfortable, or healthy. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0060" id="linkimage-0060"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0462.jpg" alt="0462 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0462.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">328</span><a name="link328" id="link328"></a>At last - we arrived at the river, a broad, swift-flowing, muddy river running along - the bottom of the valley and apparently full to the brim, at least there - were no banks, and needless to say, of course, there was not a particle of - vegetation to beautify it. There was a crossing here very like the - ferrying-place I had crossed on my journey up, and there were a row of - long boats with one end of them against the bank. It was raining hard when - I arrived, and the litter was lifted down from the mules, but the only - thing to do was to sit still and await the arrival of Tuan and my baggage - in the Peking cart. - </p> - <p> - They came at last, and the rain lifting a little Tuan set about preparing - one of the boats for my reception. - </p> - <p> - I must confess I looked on with interest, because I did not quite see how - I was going to spend several days with a servant and three boatmen in such - cramped quarters. The worst of it was there was no getting out of it now - if I did not like it, it had to be done. Though I do worry so much I - always find it is about the wrong thing. I had never—and I might - well have done so—thought about the difficulties of this boat - journey until I stood on the banks of the river, committed to it, and - beyond the range of help from any of my own colour. For one moment my - heart sank. If it had been the evening I should have despaired, but with - fourteen good hours of daylight before me I can always feel hopeful, - especially if they are to be spent in the open air. The wupan is about - thirty-seven feet long, flat bottomed, and seven feet wide in the middle, - tapering of course towards the ends. In the middle V-shaped sticks hold up - a ridge pole, and <span class="pagenum">329</span><a - name="link329_rdquo_________id_" id="link329_rdquo_________id_"></a>across - this Tuan put a couple of grass mats we had bought for this purpose, then - he produced some unbleached calico—and when I think of what I paid - for that unbleached calico, and how poor the Chinese peasants are, I am - surprised that the majority of them do not go naked—and proceeded to - make of it a little tent for me right in the middle of the awning. I stood - it until I discovered that the idea was he should sleep at one end and the - boatmen at the other, and then I protested. What I was to be guarded from - I did not know, but I made him clearly understand that one end of the boat - I must have to myself. There might be a curtain across the other end of - the awning, that I did not mind, but I must be free to go out without - stepping on sleeping servant or boatmen. That little matter adjusted, much - to his surprise, the next thing we had to think about was the stove. I - wanted it so placed that when the wind blew the matting did not make a - funnel that would carry the smoke directly into my face. But that is just - exactly what it did do, and I've come to the conclusion there is no - possible way of arranging a stove comfortably on a winding river. We tried - it aft, and we tried it for'ard, and when it was aft it seemed the - wind was behind, and when it was for'ard the wind was ahead, and - whichever way the smoke came it was equally unpleasant, so I decided the - only thing to be done was to smile and look pleasant, and be thankful that - whereas I required three meals a day to sustain me in doing nothing, my - boatmen who did all the work and had a stove of their own, apparently, - sustained life on two. The ideal way would be to have a companion and two - boats, and then the trip would be delightful. <span class="pagenum">330</span><a - name="link330" id="link330"></a>As it was I found it well worth doing. - </p> - <p> - The rain stopped that first day soon after we left the crossing-place, and - from the little low boat the mountains on either side appeared to tower - above us, rugged, precipitous, sterile; they were right down to the waters - edge and the river wound round, and on the second day we were in the heart - of the mountains, and passed through great rocky gorges. It was lonely for - China, but just as I thought that no human being could possibly live in - such a sterile land, I would see far up on the hills a little spot of - blue, some small boy herding goats, or a little pocket of land between two - great rocks, carefully tilled, and the young green crops just springing - up. And then again there were little houses, neat, tidy little houses with - heavy roofs, and I wondered what it must be like to be here in the - mountains when the winter held them in its grip. Somehow it seemed to me - far more lonely and desolate than anything I had seen on my way across - country. - </p> - <p> - We always tied up for the men to eat their midday meal, and we always tied - up for the night. But we wakened at the earliest glimmer of dawn. They - evidently breakfasted on cold millet porridge, and I, generally, was up - and dressed and had had my breakfast and forgotten all about it by - five-thirty in the morning. My bed took up most of the room in my - quarters, I dressed and washed on it, a bath was out of the question, and - pulling aside the curtains sat on it and had my breakfast, the captain of - the boat, the gentleman with the steering-oar, looking on with the - greatest interest. - </p> - <p> - He spoke to Tuan evidently about my breakfast, and I asked him what he - said. - </p> - <p> - “She say what a lot you eat,” said Tuan. “Not in ten - days she have so much.” - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">468</span><a name="link468" id="link468"></a>And I - was surprised, because I had thought my breakfast exceedingly frugal. I - had watched the eggs being poached, and I ate them without butter or toast - or bacon, I had a dry piece of bread, tea, of course, and some - unappetising stewed pears. But by and by I was watching my captain - shovelling in basinsful of millet porridge, about ten times as much as I - ate, and I came to the conclusion it was the variety he was commenting on, - not the amount. - </p> - <p> - They were things of delight those early mornings on the river. At first - all the valley would be wrapped in a soft grey mist, with here and there - the highest peaks, rugged and desolate, catching the sunlight; then - gradually, gradually, the sun came down the valley and the mists melted - before his rays, lingering here and there in the hollows, soft and grey - and elusive, till at last the sunlight touched the water and gave this - muddy water of the river a golden tint, and all things rejoiced in the - new-born day. The little blue kingfishers preened themselves, the - blue-grey cranes with white necks and black points that the Chinese call - “long necks” sailed with outspread wings slowly across the - water, and the sunlight on the square sails of the upcoming boats made - them gleam snow white. For there was much traffic on the river. Desolate - as the country round was, the river was busy. The boats that were going - down stream were rowed, and those that were coming up, when the wind was - with them, put out great square sails, and when it was against them were - towed by four men. They fastened the towing rope to the mast, stripped - themselves, and slipping a <span class="pagenum">332</span><a - name="link332" id="link332"></a>loop over their heads fixed it round their - chests and pulled by straining against a board that was fast in the loop. - The current was strong, and it must have been hard work judging by the way - they strained on the rope. The missionaries were afraid I would be shocked - at the sight of so many naked men, but it was the other way round, my - presence, apparently the only woman on the river, created great - consternation, for the Chinaman is a modest man. Badly I wanted to get a - photograph of those straining men, for never have I seen the Chinese to - greater advantage. In their shabby blue cotton they look commonplace and - of the slums, you feel they are unwashed, but these suggest splendid - specimens of brawny manhood. They don't need to be washed. However, - as we approached, boatmen and servant all raised their voices in a loud - warning singsong. What they said, I do not know, but it must have been - something like: “Oh brothers, put on your clothes. We have a - bothering foreign woman on board.” The result would be a wild - scramble and everybody would be getting into dirty blue garments, only - some unfortunate, who was steering in a difficult part or had hold of a - rope that could not be dropped was left helpless, and he crouched down or - hid behind a more lucky companion. If there had been anybody with whom to - laugh I would have laughed many a time when we met or passed boats on the - Lanho. But I never got a really good photograph of those towing men. My - men evidently felt it would be taking them at a disadvantage, and the - production of my camera was quite sufficient to send us off into mid - stream, as far away from the towing boat as possible. - </p> - <p> - Occasionally the hills receded just a little and left a small stretch of - flat country where there were always exceedingly neat-looking huts. There - were the neatest bundles of sticks stacked all round them, just twigs, and - we landed once to buy some, for the men cooked entirely with them, and my - little stove needed them to start the charcoal. But oh, the people who - came out of those houses were dirty. Never have I seen such - unclean-looking unattractive women. One had a child in her arms with - perfectly horrible-looking eyes, and I knew there was another unfortunate - going to be added to the many blind of China. She ran away at the sight of - me, and so did two little stark-naked boys. I tempted them with biscuits, - and their grandfather or great-grandfather, he might have been, watched - with the deepest interest. He and I struck up quite a friendship over the - incident, smiling and laughing and nodding to one another, as much as to - say, “Yes, it was natural they should be afraid, but we—we, - who had seen the world—of course knew better.” Then he went - away and fetched back in his arms another small shaven-headed youngster - whom he patted and petted and called my attention to, as much as to say - this was little Benjamin, the well-beloved, had I not a biscuit for him? - Alas I had been too long away from civilisation and I had given away all I - had. But when I think about it, it is always with a feeling of regret that - I had not a sweet biscuit for that old Chinaman up in the mountains and - his best-beloved grandson. - </p> - <p> - I saw one morning some men fishing in the shallows by a great rock, and I - demanded at once that we buy a fish. They were spearing the fish and <span - class="pagenum">334</span><a name="link334" id="link334"></a>we bought a - great mud-fish for five cents, for I saw the money handed over, and then - the unfortunate fish with a reed through his gills was dragged through the - water alongside the boat. When I came to eat a small piece of him, which I - did with interest I was so tired of chicken, he was abominable, and I - smiled a little ruefully when I found in the accounts he was charged at - thirty-five cents! Judging by the nastiness of that fish one ought to be - able to buy up the entire contents of the Lanho for such a sum. However, - the boatmen ate him gladly, and I suppose if I lived on millet for - breakfast, tiffin, and dinner, and any time else when I felt hungry, I - might even welcome a mud-fish for a change. Their only relish appeared to - be what Tuan called “sour pickle.” There was one most - unappetising-looking salted turnip which lasted a long while, though every - one of the crew had a bite at it. - </p> - <p> - Gorge after gorge we passed, and the rocks rising above us seemed very - high, while the sun beating down upon the water in that enclosed space - made it very hot in the middle of the day, and I was very glad indeed of - the mat awning, though, of course, it was of necessity so low that even I, - who am a short woman, could not stand up underneath, but it kept off the - sun, and the air, coming through as we were rowed along, made a little - breeze. There were rapids, many rapids, but they did not impress me. I - couldn't even get up a thrill, sometimes indeed the boat was turned - right round, but it always seemed that the worst that might happen to me - would be that I should have to get out and walk, and of course get rather - wet in the process. Tuan made a great fuss about them all, “must - take care” but the worst <span class="pagenum">335</span><a - name="link335" id="link335"></a>one of all he was so exceedingly grave - over that I felt at least we were risking our valuable lives. It was - inside the wall and was called “Racing Horse Rapid” but it - wasn't very bad. I have been up much worse rapids on the Volta, in - West Africa, and nobody seemed to think they were anything out of the - ordinary, but then the negro has not such a rooted objection to water as - the Chinaman apparently has. My crew had to get wet, up to their waists - sometimes, and it was a little rough on them—I remembered it in - their <i>cumshaw</i>—that having a woman on board their modesty did - not allow them to strip, and they went in with all their clothes on. - </p> - <p> - The Wall, broken for the passing of the river, is always a wonder, and - here it was wonderful as ever. We stopped here for a little in order, as - far as I could make out, that Tuan might get some ragged specimens of - humanity to pluck a couple of chickens, being too grand a gentleman to do - it himself, and for a brief space the foreshore was white with feathers, - for the thrifty Chinaman, who finds a use for everything, once he has made - feather dusters has no use for feathers. Feather pillows he knows not. But - for once Tuan's skill in putting the work he was paid for doing, off - on to other people, failed either to amuse or irritate me. I had eyes for - nothing but the Wall—the Wall above all other walls still—for - all it is in ruins. As we went down the river it followed along the tops - of the highest hills for over a mile. Always the Wall cuts the skyline. - There is never anything higher than the Wall. And here, as if this river - valley must be extra well guarded, on every accessible peak was a - watch-tower. They are all in ruins now, but they speak <span - class="pagenum">336</span><a name="link336" id="link336"></a>forcibly of - the watch and ward that was kept here once. There was one square ruin on - the highest peak. As evening fell, heavy, threatening clouds gathered and - it stood out against them. As we went far down the valley it was always - visible, now to the right of us, now to the left, as the river wound, and - when I thought it was gone in the gathering gloom, a jagged flash of - lightning, out of the black cloud behind it, illumined it again, and for - the moment I forgot that it was ruined, and thought only what an excellent - vantage-point those old-time builders had chosen. All the country round - must see the beacon fire flaring there. And again I thought of the signals - that must have gone up, “The Mongols are coming down the river. The - Manchus are gathering in the hills.” - </p> - <p> - Those heavy clouds bespoke rain, and that night it came down, came down in - torrents, and if there is a more uncomfortable place in which to be rained - upon than a small boat I have yet to find it. Those grass mats kept off - some of the rain, but they were by no means as water-tight as I should - have liked. I spread my burberry over my bed, put up my umbrella, and - stopped up the worst leaks with all the towels I could spare, and yet the - water came in, and on the other side of my calico screen I could hear the - men making a few remarks, which Tuan told me next day were because, - “she no can cook dinner, no can dry clothes.” I had lent them - my charcoal stove, but it was small and would only dry “littee, - littee clothe” so everybody including myself got up next morning in - a querulous mood, and very sorry for themselves. The others at least were - earning their pay, but I wondered how I was <span class="pagenum">337</span><a - name="link337_rdquo_________id_" id="link337_rdquo_________id_"></a>going - to make money out of it, and again I questioned the curious fate that sent - me wandering uncomfortably about the world, and sometimes actually—yes - actually getting enjoyment out of it. - </p> - <p> - I didn't enjoy that day, however. We went on a little and at length - we stopped, all the country was veiled in soft moist grey mist, the - perpetual sunshine of Northern China was gone, and Tuan and the boatman - came to me. They proposed, of all the Chinese things in this world to do, - to go back! Why I don't know now, for to go back meant going against - the stream and towing the boat! A very much harder job than guiding it - down stream, where it would go of its own weight. I have not often put my - foot down in China. I have always found it best to let my servants, or - those I employed, go about things their own way, but this was too much for - me. I made it clearly understood that the boat belonged to me for the time - being, and that back I would not go. - </p> - <p> - Tuan murmured something about some place “she get dry” and I - quite agreed looking at the shivering wretches, but that place had got to - be ahead, not behind us. However, go on they would not, so we pulled up - against the bank and all four of them cowered over the little charcoal - stove till I feared lest they would be asphyxiated with the fumes. I got - in my bed, pulled my eiderdown round me, and thanked Providence I had it, - a sleeping bag, and a burberry, and then as best I could I dodged the - drops that came through the matting, but I knew I wasn't nearly so - uncomfortable as my men. At last the rain lifted a little, and three - rueful figures pulled us down to a small, a very <span class="pagenum">338</span><a - name="link338_rdquo_________id_" id="link338_rdquo_________id_"></a>small - temple wherein they lighted a fire and cooked themselves a warm meal. By - that time the rain had gone, and they were smiling and cheerful once more. - </p> - <p> - As the result of that rain the river rose three feet, the rapids were - easier than ever to go over, only of course there was the risk of hitting - the rocks that were now submerged, and the waters were muddier than ever. - I felt as if all those mountain-sides were being washed down into the - Lanho, as they probably were. All along the banks, too, the people were - collected gathering—not driftwood, for there was none, but - driftweed, gathering it in with rakes and dipping-in baskets, holding them - out for the water to run away and using the residuum “for burn,” - as Tuan put it. It was dreary, wet, grey, cold. The country grew flatter - as we came down the river, the hills receded; we were in an agricultural - country which was benefiting, I doubt not, by this rain, but with the - mountains went the stern grandeur, and cold rain on a flat country is - uninspiring. Besides breakfast before five-thirty leaves a long day before - one, and the incidents were so small. I watched the captain steering and - refreshing himself with a bite at a pink radish as large and as long as a - parsnip, and it looked cold and uninviting. Surely I ought to be thankful - that Fate had not caused me to be born a Chinese of the working classes. - </p> - <p> - The captain had a large cash-box which reposed trustfully at the end of my - bed. Not that I could have got into it, for it was fastened with the sort - of padlock that I should put on park gates, and I certainly couldn't - have carried it away, at least not unbeknownst, for it was a cube of at - least eighteen inches. It gave me the idea of great wealth, for never in - my life do I expect to require a cash-box like that. If I did I should - give up story writing and grow old with a quiet mind. But then I do not - take my earnings in copper cash. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0061" id="linkimage-0061"> </a> - </p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0478.jpg" alt="0478 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0478.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - - <p> - More and more as we went along the river was I reminded of my idea of - Babylon—Babylon with the romance taken out of it, Babylon grown - commonplace. At one place we stopped at, there came down to the ferry a - short fat man in blue, in a large straw hat, leading a donkey. But he - belonged to no age, he was Sancho Panza to the life. Again there came a - gentleman mounted on a mule, his servant following slowly on a small grey - donkey. He was nicely dressed in darkish petticoats, and his servant wore - the usual blue. They stood on the river-bank and the servant hailed the - ferry. With a little difficulty the beasts were got on board and the boat - poled across. It was just a wupan like my own, decked in the middle so - that the animals would not have to step down. The donkey came off as if it - were all in the day's work, but the mule was obstinate, and it took - the entire population of that little crossing-place, including Tuan and my - boatmen, to hoist him off. The person most interested, the rider, never - stirred a finger. True son of Babylon was he. “Let the slaves see to - all things,” I imagine him saying. There was a little refreshment - booth, and a man selling long fingers of paste, or rather fried batter. My - captain handled one thoughtfully and then put it back. - </p> - <p> - “Doesn't he like it?” I asked Tuan. It seemed to me so - much nicer than the pink radish. - </p> - <p> - “She like,” said Tuan, “too much monies. Very dear,” - and I think I could have bought up the whole <span class="pagenum">340</span><a - name="link340_rdquo_________id_" id="link340_rdquo_________id_"></a>stock - in trade for twenty cents, about fivepence, so the cash-box was a fraud - after all. - </p> - <p> - Now the hills had receded into the dim distance there were no more rapids, - and I was back on the great alluvial plain of Northern China once more. - The sun came out in all his glory, there were innumerable boats, and the - evening sunlight gleamed on their white sails. Many of them were full of - people, with many women amongst them, and Tuan told me it was the Dragon - Boat Festival. - </p> - <p> - And then, as the evening shadows were falling, we came to the port of - Lanchou and my journey in a wupan was ended. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX—A RIVER PORT IN BABYLON - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">341</span><a name="link341" id="link341"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The question of squeeze—Batter fingers for the boatmen—An - array of damp scarecrows—Ox carts—Prehistoric wheels—A - decadent people—Beggars—The playing of a part—A side - show—Cumshaw.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey tell me I must - not talk about a river port in Babylon, because Babylon was a city not a - country, and it had no river port, but in that valley of Mesopotamia there - must have been in those old days, little places where the people living - along the banks landed their produce, or gathered it in, and I think they - must have resembled this river port of Lanchou in Chihli, to which I came - one still pleasant evening in June. - </p> - <p> - The sun was on the point of setting, and I consulted Tuan about where I - should go for the night. The inns, he opined, would be full, for all the - country-side had come to the feast, and, in truth, I did not hanker much - after a Chinese inn. I infinitely preferred the wupan, even at its very - worst, when the rain was coming through the matting. I only wondered if - Tuan and the boatmen would think it extremely undignified of me to stay - where I was. The worst I knew there were the cockroaches, and Heaven only - knew what I might find in a Chinese inn in June. <span class="pagenum">342</span><a - name="link342" id="link342"></a>Apparently Tuan did not think it - undignified, and the boatmen of course were glad. - </p> - <p> - “You pay him one dollar,” suggested Tuan. Now a dollar is a - thousand cash, and a thousand cash, I suppose would about fill that - money-box of his. He got the dollar, because I paid it him myself, but - what squeeze Tuan extracted I am sure I don't know. Some he did get, - I suppose as of right, for squeeze seems to be the accepted fact in China. - </p> - <p> - A woman once told me how she was offered squeeze and a good big squeeze - too. - </p> - <p> - She was head of a hospital, and being an attractive young person, she used - to go out pretty often for motor drives with the locomotive superintendent - of the nearest railway. The Chinese took note of this, as apparently they - do of all things likely to concern them, and one day there called upon her - a Chinaman, well-dressed, of the better class. He stood at the door of her - sitting-room, shaking his own hands, and bowed three times. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” said she, for she had never to her - knowledge, seen him before. - </p> - <p> - He spoke as good English, almost as she did herself, and he said, well it - was a little matter in which she might be of service to him, and—yes—he - of service to her. - </p> - <p> - She looked at him in astonishment. “But I don't know you,” - she said, puzzled and surprised. - </p> - <p> - It was a matter of oil, he said at last, when he got to the point. It was - well known that the engines required a great deal of oil, and he had - several thousands of tons of oil for sale. <span class="pagenum">343</span><a - name="link343" id="link343"></a>"But what has that to do with me?” - asked the girl, more surprised than ever. - </p> - <p> - He bowed again. “You are a great friend of ———” - </p> - <p> - “But how do you know that?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh pardon,” his hand on his heart, “Chinaman know - everything. You can help me.” - </p> - <p> - “How?” she said still wondering. - </p> - <p> - “You speak to Mr ———-. He buy oil,” and he - looked at her ingratiatingly. - </p> - <p> - She stared at him, hardly knowing whether to be angry or not. - </p> - <p> - “I have nothing to do with the locomotives.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, but it will pay you,” said he, and from each side out of - a long pocket he drew two heavy bags, and planked them down on her - writing-table. Still she did not understand what he was driving at. - </p> - <p> - “For you,” said he, “for a few words.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, you are offering me squeeze,” said she indignantly, as - the full meaning of the thing flashed on her. - </p> - <p> - He made a soothing sound with his mouth. “Everybody does it,” - said he. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed I don't.” - </p> - <p> - “Not enough?” said he. “There is five hundred and fifty - dollars there,” and he looked at her questioningly. “Well,” - thoughtfully, “I can make it two hundred dollars more, I have much - oil,” and down went another bag of silver. More than six months' - salary was on the table. - </p> - <p> - “And suppose,” said she, curious, “Mr ———— - pays no attention to me.” - </p> - <p> - “That would be unfortunate,” with a low bow, “but I - think not. I have much oil. I take risk.” <span class="pagenum">344</span><a - name="link344_rdquo_________id_" id="link344_rdquo_________id_"></a>Then - she rose up wrathfully. “Take it away,” she said, “take - it away. How dare you offer me squeeze!” And he did take it away, - and as he probably knew her salary to the very last penny, thought her a - fool for her pains. - </p> - <p> - I don't know whether Tuan extracted his squeeze beforehand, but I - know all three boatmen had the long fingers of batter fried in lard for - their breakfast the next morning, for I saw them having them, and Tuan - informed me with a grin, “Missie pay dollar. Can do,” and I - was very glad I had not patronised the Chinese inn. - </p> - <p> - Of course I rose very early. Before half-past four I was up and dressed - and peeping out of my little tent at the rows and rows of boats that lay - double-banked against the shore. The sun got up as early as I did, and - most of those people in the boats were up before him. The boats were own - sisters to the one in which I had come down the river, with one mast, and - shelters in the middle, and all the people had suffered, as we had done, - from wet, for such a drying day I have never before seen. All the sails of - course had to be dried, all the mats, the dilapidated bedding, and it - seemed most of the clothing, for padded blue coats and trousers were stuck - on sticks, or laid out in the sun. All the scarecrows that ever I had - known, had apparently come to grief on that double-banked row of boats. - The banks were knee-deep in mud, but it was sandy mud that soon dried, and - by six o'clock business on that shore was in full swing. There was a - theatre and fair going on close at hand, but business had to be attended - to all the same. These boatmen all still wear the queue, so the barber was - very busy, as it is of course impossible to shave on board a boat, and - even the immaculate Tuan had a fine crop of bristles all over his head. - They were gone before he gave me breakfast this morning. The alluvial mud - of the shore was cut into deep cart ruts, and there were any number of - carts coming down to the boats and going away from them. There were ox - carts with a solitary ox, harnessed much as a horse would be and looking - strange to me, accustomed to the bullock drays of Australia with their - bullocks, ten or twenty of them drawing by a single wooden yoke, there - were mule carts and carts heavy with merchandise drawn by a mixed team of - mule, ox, and the small and patient donkey, and the people took from the - boats their loading of grain, grown far away in Mongolia, of stones, - gathered by the river-bank, water-worn stones used for making the - picturesque garden and courtyard paths the Chinese love, and even - sometimes for building, and of osiers, grown up in the mountains. There - were piles and piles of these, and men were carrying them slung on the - ends of their bamboos. And the boats, for the return journey were loaded, - as far as I could see, with salt and the thin tissue paper they use - everywhere for the windows, it is much more portable than glass, and - cotton stuffs, such as even the poorest up in the mountains must buy for - their clothing. And because it was the Dragon Boat Feast, I suppose, many - of the boats were full of passengers, people who had started thus early to - make a day of it, innumerable small-footed women and small, shavenheaded - children, what little there was left of their hair done up in tiny plaits, - that stood straight out on end. And all had on their best clothing. Even - <span class="pagenum">346</span><a name="link346" id="link346"></a>the - gentleman whose picture I have taken standing under a tree had on a new - hat of the brightest yellow matting, and I wondered whether the poorer - folk who thronged the river-side in Mesopotamia, so many long centuries - ago, were not something like him. The only thing that was modern was the - railway station and rolling stock, just behind the river-side town, and - the great iron bridge that spans the river. Modern civilisation come to - Babylon. It has barely touched the surface though of this age-old - civilisation. The people who came crowding into the feast came in carts - with heavy wooden wheels, Punch's prehistoric wheels, exactly as - their ancestors came, possibly three thousand years ago, and the carts - were drawn by mules, by oxen, by donkeys, and were covered, some with the - ordinary blue cloth, some with grass matting, and sometimes, when they - were open, the women carried umbrellas of Chinese oiled paper, with here - and there one of ordinary European pattern. And the carts were packed very - close together indeed, for there were numberless women, and the majority - of them could only just totter along. For them to walk far or for long, - would be a sheer impossibility. Country people? No, again I saw it - strongly, these were serfs, perhaps, but not country people, they were a - highly civilised people, far more highly civilised than I am who sit in - judgment, so civilised that they were decadent, effete, and every woman - was helpless! - </p> - <p> - They crowded round the theatricals that were going on there in the open, - and all the stalls were crowded together round them too. These sellers - cannot afford to spread themselves out when half of <span class="pagenum">347</span><a - name="link347" id="link347"></a>the likely buyers must needs be - stationary. Never have I seen so many Chinese women of the well-to-do - class together before. They wore their gayest silks and satins and - embroidered coats, their hair was elaborately dressed and decked with - flowers, their faces were painted and powdered, and usually there was on - them the faintest of impassive smiles. Poor women of modern Babylon, - maimed and crippled! It was rather a relief to look at the beggars, and - there were many of them, who, clad in sacking and filthy rags, with wild - black hair, beat their foreheads in the dust, and made loud moan of their - sufferings. Everyone plays his part properly in China. It is the beggars' - to make loud moan, it is the women's to give no hint of the cruel - suffering that has made childhood and youth a torture, and left the - dreadful aftermath behind it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0062" id="linkimage-0062"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0488.jpg" alt="0488 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0488.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - I had plenty of time to see everything, for the train was not due till - eleven, and when it grew too hot to stay in the open any longer, I went on - to the platform and sat in the shade, and formed a sort of side show to - the fair, for so many people crowded round to look at the foreign woman, - and they had more than what a servant of one of my friends called “a - littee stink,” that at last the station policeman, who was really a - soldier guarding the line, came and cleared them away drastically with - drawn sword, and I explained, as best I could, that on this great - occasion, I hadn't the least objection to being a show, for very - likely many of these people had come from beyond the beaten tracks, from - places where foreigners were scarce, but I must have sufficient air. - </p> - <p> - Tuan got the tickets, and then I suppose, seeing his time was short, for - we should be in Peking by seven, and should certainly part, he relieved - his mind and asked a question that had evidently been burning there ever - since we had left the mission station. - </p> - <p> - “Missie have pay mission boys <i>cumshaw?</i>” - </p> - <p> - Now the <i>cumshaw</i> had been a difficulty. - </p> - <p> - My hostess had come to me and said: “I know you are going to give a - <i>cumshaw</i>. I may as well tell you that if our visitors don't we - always do ourselves, because the servants expect it, but I am come to beg - of you not to give too much and to give it through us. In fact the cook - went for his holiday last night and we gave him eighty cents and said it - was from you.” - </p> - <p> - “Eighty cents!” I was afraid those servants would think me - very mean. But my hostess was very fluent on the subject, and very - determined. The majority of their visitors could not possibly afford to - give much, and they were very anxious not to establish a precedent. What - was I to do? I might have supplemented it through Tuan, but I felt it - would be making a poor return to the people who had been so kind to me, so - I was obliged to let it go at that. - </p> - <p> - “I pay Missie, she give <i>cumshaw</i> for me,” said I to - Tuan. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said that worthy, as if he had settled a doubt - satisfactorily in his own mind, “boy say Missie pay eighty cent, I - say, not my Missie, she give five, ten dollar, always give five, ten - dollar, your Missie give eighty cent!” - </p> - <p> - And as I went on my way to Peking, across the plain in its summer dress of - lush green kaoliang, I wondered sorrowfully if all the return I had made - for the kindness received was to have those missionaries accused of - pocketing the <i>cumshaw</i> I was supposed to have given. - </p> - <p> - But I was glad to come back, glad not to think any more of the Chinaman as - a creature whose soul had to be saved, glad to come back to my ordinary - associates who were ordinarily worldly and selfish, and felt that they - might drink a whisky-and-soda and consider their own enjoyment, though - there were a few hundred million people in outer darkness around them. The - majority of us cannot live in the rarefied atmosphere that demands - constant sacrifice and abnegation for the sake of those we do not and - cannot love. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX—THE WAYS OF THE CHINESE SERVANT - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">350</span><a name="link350" id="link350"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>The heat of Peking—-The wall by moonlight—Tongshan—“Your - devoted milkman”—The eye of the mistress—A little fort—In - case of an outbreak—The Temple of the Sleeping Buddha—A - runaway bride—The San Shan An—My own temple courtyard—The - missing outfit—The Language Officer—Friends in need.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was David, I - think, who said in his haste, that all men are liars, but I suppose he was - right, if he meant as he probably did, that at one time or another, we are - all of us given to making rash statements. I expect it would be a rash - statement to say that Peking in the summer is the hottest place in the - world, and that the heat of West Africa, that much-maligned land, is - nothing to it, and yet, even when I think over the matter at my leisure, I - know that the heat, for about six weeks, is something very hard to bear. I - suspect it is living in a stone house inside the city walls that makes it - so hot. Could I have slept in the open I might have taken a different - view. I slept, or rather I did not sleep, with two windows wide open, and - an electric fan going, but, since Peking mosquitoes are of the very - aggressive order, bred in the imperial canal, the great open drain that - runs through the city, it was always necessary to keep the mosquito - curtains drawn. If anyone doubts that a house with mosquito-proof <span - class="pagenum">351</span><a name="link351" id="link351"></a>windows and - doors is an airless death-trap, let him try and sleep under mosquito - curtains, while hoping for a breath of cool air from the electric fan. - Fully half the air is cut off, but as the mosquito curtains are raised - during the daytime, the air over the bed is renewed daily. In that - abomination a mosquito-proof house, it is never renewed. - </p> - <p> - Since it was a choice between little air and plenty of mosquitoes. I chose - the shortage of air, and generally went to bed with a deep soup plate full - of cold water, and a large sponge. It made the bed decidedly wet, but that - was an advantage. - </p> - <p> - I did not go away because the war had started between the North and the - South, and no one knew exactly what was going to happen. To be at the - heart of things is often to be too close, wiser eyes than mine saw - nothing. Once there was a rumour that the Southern army would march on - Peking, and that promised excitement, but in the city itself, though there - was martial law, there was no excitement, and the only pleasant thing to - do was to go on moonlight evenings and sit on the wall. There was a cool - breath of air there, if there was anywhere, and at any rate the moonlight - lent it a glamour, and the fireflies, that came out after the rain, gave - the added touch that made it fairyland. - </p> - <p> - But at last the heat was too much even for me, who am not wont to complain - of whatever sort of weather is doled out to me, and I accepted the - invitation of a friend to stay at Tongshan, which is a great railway - centre, a place where there is a coal mine, and some large cement works - run by capable and efficient Germans. - </p> - <p> - And at Tongshan I lived in the house that was <span class="pagenum">352</span><a - name="link352" id="link352"></a>held for defence during the Boxer trouble. - The barrier at the gate—the barrier that is at the gate of all - Chinese houses, to keep off evil spirits, who can only move in a straight - line—was so curious that I took a photograph of it, and against the - walls that surround the grounds were the look-out places which the - railwaymen manned, and from which they kept watch and ward. - </p> - <p> - I have always liked the feeling of living in a fort—a place where - men have helped to make history, but I have observed that it is always the - immediate trifle that is to the fore that counts, and my friend's - servants were a perpetual joy and delight to me. They used to write her - letters. There was one, a touching one, from the milkman I shall remember - with joy. A “cunningful” cook had misrepresented him, and he - wished to be taken into favour again, and he signed himself distractedly - “Your devoted milkman.” The cow was brought round so that it - might be milked before the eyes of the buyer, and only a Chinaman, surely, - would have been capable of concealing a bottle of water up his sleeves and - letting it run slowly down his arm as he milked, so that the cow was - unjustly accused of giving very poor milk. Besides, when the cow's - character was cleared, who knew from where that water had been taken, and - how much dirt it had washed off the arm down which it ran. No pleading - took that milkman into favour again, despite the tenderness expressed in - his signature. Another man had been away, and returning, wished a small - job as watchman at six dollars a month, and begging for it by letter, he - signed himself fervently “Your own Ah Foo.” But the crowning - boy was the No. 1 boy. He was a <span class="pagenum">353</span><a - name="link353" id="link353"></a>delicious person without intending it. - When first my friend engaged him, she acquired at the same time a small - dog, and she soon realised that the rigorous Chinese winter was hard on - dogs, and that Ben must have a little coat. The question was how to make - the coat. No. 1 boy came to the rescue. - </p> - <p> - Mr ——— at the railway station had a dog, and “Marcus,” - said the boy, “have two coats.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh well borrow one and copy it,” said his mistress, relieved. - </p> - <p> - “My tink,” said the boy confidentially, and he sank his voice, - “Missie bolly, more better not send back.” And he looked at - her to see if this wisdom would sink in. - </p> - <p> - “Boy!” - </p> - <p> - “Marcus have two coats,” repeated he reproachfully. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0063" id="linkimage-0063"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0496.jpg" alt="0496 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0496.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The owner of Marcus, on the story being told to him, when the coat was - borrowed with every assurance it should be returned, admitted that if - occasionally he saw among his accounts a coat for Marcus he always paid - for it, and supposed the old one had worn out. Thinking it over, he - thought perhaps he had supplied a friend or two, or more possibly his - friends' servants. No. 1 boy made a mistake in taking his mistress - into his confidence, instead of charging her for “one piecey dog - coat.” - </p> - <p> - But, of course that is the trouble with Missies, as compared with Masters, - they have such inquiring minds. There was once a man of violent temper who - was in the habit of letting off steam on his No. 1 boy. He abused him - roundly, and even beat him whenever he felt out of sorts, yet greatly to - the surprise of all his friends, the boy put up with him, and made him a - very excellent servant. Presently he married, and then, much to his - surprise, before a month was out the boy, who had been faithful and - long-suffering for so long, came and gave notice. - </p> - <p> - “But why?” asked the astonished man. - </p> - <p> - “Master beat,” said the boy laconically. - </p> - <p> - “D——n it,” said the man, “I've beaten - you a dozen times before. Why do you complain now?” - </p> - <p> - “Before time,” explained the boy solemnly, “when Master - beat, my put down one dollar, sugar, one dollar flour. Now Missie come, no - can. My go.” - </p> - <p> - He did not mind a beating so long as he could make his master pay for it, - but when an inquiring mistress questioned these little items for groceries - that she knew had never been used, he gave up the place, he could no - longer get even with his master. It was a truly Chinese way of looking at - things. - </p> - <p> - These were some of the stories they told me in the house they had - fortified against the Boxers and held till the ships sent them a guard. - And once the sailors came there was no more danger, It was the luckless - country people who feared. The older men pitied and understood the - situation, but the mischievous young midshipmen took a fearful joy in - scaring the problematical enemy. - </p> - <p> - “Who goes there?” - </p> - <p> - “Belong my,” answered the shivering coolie, endeavouring to - slip past, and in deadly terror that the pointed rifle would go off. They - were ground between two millstones those unfortunate peasants. The Boxers - harried them, and then the foreigners came and avenged their wrongs on - these who had done probably no harm. Always it is these helpless serfs who - suffer in case of war. Other classes may suffer—these are sure to. - </p> - <p> - They will never hold this house again should necessity arise, for the well - that gave them water has gone dry. - </p> - <p> - Of course everyone hopes and says, that the necessity never will arise - again but for all that, they are not, the foreign settlers in China, quite - as certain of their safety as one would be in a country town in England, - for instance. They came in to afternoon tea and tennis, men and women, and - they gave all attention to the amusement in hand, a lighthearted, cheerful - set of people, and then one little speech and one saw there was another - side. There was always the <i>might be</i>. Everything was going on as - usual, everywhere around were peaceable, subservient people, and yet—and - yet terrible things had happened in the past, who could say if they would - not happen again. Every now and again, not dominating the conversation, - but running a subcurrent to it, would come up the topic of the - preparations they had made in case of “another outbreak.” - </p> - <p> - One woman kept a box of clothes at Tientsin. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder you don't,” she said looking at her hostess. - “No, my dear, don't you remember yet, I never take sugar. - Thank you. You ought to think about it, you know. It is really so awkward - if one has to rush away in a hurry to find oneself without clothes.” - </p> - <p> - Another woman laughed, and yet she was very much in earnest. - </p> - <p> - “That's not the first thing to worry about. There, that was - vantage to them,” she interpolated, taking an interest in the game - of tennis, “that young <span class="pagenum">356</span><a - name="link356" id="link356"></a>woman's going to make a nice little - player. No, what I think is that the place they have chosen to hold is far - too far away. Want your clothes in Tientsin? I'm not at all sure you'll - get over that mile and a half from your house in safety, and I've - farther still to go, with two little children too. Why don't you get - your husband to——— Oh there they've finished! Now - have I time for another set?” - </p> - <p> - “It's after six.” - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious! And baby to bath! I must go. You speak to your - husband about another place, my dear. He'll have some influence.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I wouldn't try to hold any place again,” said my - host, thinking of the past, “I should be on the train and off to - Tientsin at the first hint of danger.” - </p> - <p> - “But suppose you couldn't get away in time?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, of course, that's possible,” he said - thoughtfully, “and the Chinese are beggars at pulling up railways.” - </p> - <p> - I listened, and then I understood how people get used to contemplating a - danger that is only possible, and not actually impending. - </p> - <p> - “If anything happens to Yuan Shih K'ai,” but then, of - course, though that is not only a possible, but even a probable danger, - everyone hopes that nothing will happen to Yuan Shih K'ai, just as - if anything did happen to him, they would hope things would not be as bad - as they had feared, and if their worst fears were realised, then they - would hope that they would be the lucky ones who would not be overwhelmed. - This is human nature, at least one side of human nature, the side of human - nature that has made of the British a great colonising people. The autumn - was coming, the golden, glowing <span class="pagenum">357</span><a - name="link357" id="link357"></a>autumn of Northern China, so, coming back - to Peking, I determined to find out some place where I could enjoy its - beauties and write the book which my publisher expected. Most people seem - to think that the writing of a book is a mere question of plenty of time, - a good pen, paper, and ink. “You press the button, we do the rest,” - promises a certain firm that makes cameras; but I do not find either - writing or taking photographs quite so simple a matter as all that. To do - either, even as well as I can, I want to be by myself, for I am a sociable - being, I do love the society of my kind, to talk to them, to exchange - ideas with them, and when I am doing that, I cannot give the time and - attention it requires to writing. Everyone who writes in China, and anyone - who writes at all is moved to take pen in hand to try and elucidate its - mysteries, wants to write in a temple in the Western Hills. I was no - exception to the rule. The Western Hills, whose rugged outlines you can - see from Peking, called me, and I set out to look for a temple. It was - going to be easy enough to get one, for “Legation” Peking goes - to the hills in the summer, and when autumn holds the land goes back to - the joys of city life. - </p> - <p> - The first I inspected was the Temple of the Sleeping Buddha, a temple - which has many courtyards, and a figure of the Buddha, peacefully - sleeping. An emblem of peace looks the great bronze figure. He is, of - course, represented clothed, only his feet are bare, and the faithful - bring him offerings of shoes, rows and rows of shoes there were on a shelf - at the side of the temple, some colossal, three or four feet long, and - some tiny, some made after the fashion of the ordinary Chinese shoe, of - silk or <span class="pagenum">358</span><a name="link358" id="link358"></a>quilted - satin, but some make-believe, and very excellent make-believe, of paper. - Looking at them I could not have told the difference, and as the Buddha's - eyes are shut, he could not even go as far as that. He certainly could not - put them on, for his feet are pressed closely together, the feet of a - profoundly sleeping man. All is peace here. Here there is no trouble, no - anxiety, that sleeping figure seems to say. - </p> - <p> - But there was for all that. Where in the world is there no trouble? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0064" id="linkimage-0064"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0504.jpg" alt="0504 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0504.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - It takes about three and a half hours to reach the Sleeping Buddha Temple - from Peking. First I took a rickshaw across the city. Then from the - northwest gate, the Hsi Chih Men, still by rickshaw, I went to the Summer - Palace, and I did the remaining five miles into the heart of the hills on - a donkey. I don't like riding a donkey, five miles on a donkey on an - uncomfortable Chinese saddle, riding astride, wearies me to death, and - when I was just thinking life was no longer worth living I arrived, and - wandered into a courtyard where, at the head of some steps, stood a little - Chinese girl. She was dressed in the usual dress of a girl of the better - classes, a coat and trousers, like a man usually wears with us, only the - coat had a high collar standing up against her cheeks, and because she was - unmarried, she wore her hair simply drawn back from her face and plaited - in a long tail down her back, much as an English schoolgirl wears it. She - made me a pretty, shy salutation, and called to her friend the - Englishwoman, who had rented the courtyard, and who was living here while - she painted pictures. This lady was returning to Peking she said, next - day, but she <span class="pagenum">359</span><a name="link359" id="link359"></a>very - kindly invited me to luncheon, and she told me the Chinese girl's - story. She was practically in hiding. She had been betrothed, of course, - years before to some boy she had never seen, and this year the time had - arrived for the carrying out of the contract. But young China is beginning - to think it has rights and objects to being disposed of in marriage - without even a chance to protest. It would not be much good the boy - running away, however much he objected to the matrimonial plans his family - had made for him, for he could be married quite easily in his absence, a - cock taking his place; but it beats even the Chinese to have a marriage - without a bride, therefore the girl had run away. The time was past and - the contract had not been carried out. Poor little girl! It surprised me - that so shy and quiet a little girl had found courage to defy authority - and run away, even though she had found out that her betrothed was as - averse from the marriage as she was. She had unbound her feet, as if to - signalise her freedom; but alas, the arch of her foot was broken, and she - could never hope to be anything but flat-footed, still that was better - than walking with stiff knees, on her heels, as if her legs were a couple - of wooden pegs like the majority of her fellow-countrywomen. The woman who - was befriending her suggested, as I was taking a temple in the hills, I - should give her sanctuary. That was all very well, but the care of a - helpless being, like a Chinese girl, is rather an undertaking. I consulted - a friend who had been in China many years, and he was emphatic on the - subject. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, no. Never have anything to do with a woman in China until - she is well over forty. You <span class="pagenum">360</span><a - name="link360_rdquo_________id_" id="link360_rdquo_________id_"></a>don't - know the trouble you will let yourself in for. Chinese women!” And - he held up his hands. So it appears that the secluded life does not make - them all that they ought to be. - </p> - <p> - However, while I was considering the matter, some woman in Peking, kinder - and less cautious than I, stepped in and the little girl has found an - asylum, and is, I am assured by a friend, all right, and better off than - hundreds of her people. True she easily might be that, and yet not have - attained to much. - </p> - <p> - I always seem to be talking of the condition of the Chinese women, like - King Charles's head, it comes into everything. After all, the - condition and status of half the nation must be always cropping up when - one considers the people at all. “Chinese women,” said a man, - “are past-mistresses in false modesty.” And again I thought - what a commentary on a nation. To Western eyes how it marks the subjection - and the ignorance of the women. - </p> - <p> - When the first baby is coming, the bride is supposed, though it would be a - tragedy beyond all words if she had no children, to be too shy to tell her - husband, or even her mother-in-law, so she puts on bracelets, and then the - family know that this woman, at least, is about to fulfil her destiny. I - hope the little Chinese girl I found up in the Temple of the Sleeping - Buddha will yet marry, marry someone she chooses herself, will not need to - pluck out the front hairs on her forehead, and will be on such terms with - her husband, that though she may with pride put on the bracelets, she may - rejoice openly that their love is crowned. I do not think there will be - any false modesty about her. <span class="pagenum">361</span><a - name="link361" id="link361"></a>But I did not take a courtyard in the - Sleeping Buddha Temple. It was rented by the Y.M.C.A. and I think that, - combined with the donkey ride, put me off. I felt I would rather go - farther afield, farther away from the traces of the foreigner, and I could - have my pick of temples in September. I took the San Shan An, in another - valley, one of the lovely valleys of the world. - </p> - <p> - The San Shan An is only a small temple with a central courtyard and two or - three smaller ones, and I agreed to take it for the sum of twenty-eight - dollars a month. I engaged a cook and a boy, the boy's English was - scanty and the cook had none, but I only paid the two twenty-four dollars - a month, six dollars less than the valued Tuan had all to himself, and one - day in September I saw my household gods on to two carts, went myself by - train, and got out at the first station at the Western Hills. - </p> - <p> - I had taken the precaution, as I had no Chinese, and I did not expect to - meet anybody who understood English, to have the name of the temple - written out in Chinese characters, and descending from the train, after a - little trouble I found one among the wondering crowd who could read, and - all that crowd, a dirty little crowd, took an interest in my further - movements. They immediately supplied me with donkeys and boys to choose - from, and I had the greatest difficulty in explaining that I did not want - a donkey, all I wanted was a guide. The only one who seemed to grasp it - was a very ragged individual who, with basket under his arm, and scoop in - hand, was gathering manure. He promptly seized my dispatch-box, all the - luggage I carried, and we started, pursued by disappointed boys with - donkeys, <span class="pagenum">362</span><a name="link362" id="link362"></a>who - could not believe that the foreign woman was actually going to walk in the - wake of a man who gathered manure. I must confess it was a most humble - procession, even in my eyes, who am not accustomed to standing on my - dignity. My only sister had given me that dispatch-case as a parting - present, and it looked wonderfully rich and cultured in the very grimy - hand that grasped it so triumphantly. I should never have had the heart to - turn that old man away, he looked so pleased at having got a job. Off he - went, and we walked for over an hour across a flat and rough country, - where the kaoliang had been gathered on to the threshing floors, and all - the people this gorgeous hot autumn day were at work there. - </p> - <p> - A threshing floor in the East makes one think of Ruth and Boaz, and - possibly these people were not unlike those who worked on that threshing - floor in Judah so long ago, only they were dirty and poor, and not comely - as we picture the Moabitish beauty. It was hot as we walked, and I grew a - little doubtful as we approached the hills—were we going in the - right direction. - </p> - <p> - “San Shan Erh,” said my guide, and he repeated it, and I grew - more doubtful, for I did not know then that these hill people say, “San - Shan Erh” where a more cultivated man would say “San Shan An,” - it is very Pekingese to have many “r's” to roll. He - combined business with pleasure, or rather he combined his business, and - whenever he came across a patch of manure, he gathered it in, and I waited - patiently. At last we came to the entrance of a well-wooded valley, and a - well-wooded valley is a precious thing in China, and we went up a roughly - <span class="pagenum">363</span><a name="link363" id="link363"></a>flagged - pathway, flagged, I dare say, a couple of hundred years ago or more, a - steep pathway by a graveyard, and between the trees that were just taking - on a tinge of autumn gold, we arrived at a plateau built up with stones, - and along beneath some trees we entered a gate and came into a square - brick paved courtyard surrounded by low, one-storied buildings, and with - four pine-trees raising their dark green branches against the deep blue - sky. I had seen so many temple courtyards, and now here was one, that for - a space, was to be my very own. In China, it seems, the gods always make - preparation for taking in guests—at a price. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0065" id="linkimage-0065"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0510.jpg" alt="0510 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0510.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - But was this my temple? - </p> - <p> - My heart sank, as for a moment I realised what a foolish thing I had done. - I had supposed, after my usual fashion, that everything would go smoothly - for me, and now at the very outset, things were going wrong, and I knew I - was helpless. Two men in blue, of the coolie class, old, and very, very - dirty, looked at me, and talked unintelligibly to my guide, and he, very - intelligibly, demanded his <i>cumshaw</i>, but there was no sign of my - possessions. - </p> - <p> - For the moment I feared, feared greatly, I was entirely alone, what might - not happen to me? I might not even have been brought to the right temple, - for all I knew. In bridge, when doubtful they say play to win, so I - decided I must act as if everything was all right, and I paid my guide his - <i>cumshaw</i>, saw him go, and not quite as happy as I should have liked - to have been, inspected the temple. There was one big room that I decided - would do me for a living-room, if this were really my temple, as it had a - sort of little veranda or <span class="pagenum">364</span><a - name="link364_rdquo_________id_" id="link364_rdquo_________id_"></a>look-out - place, which stood out on the cliff side overlooking the place of tombs, - and the plain where in the distance, about twelve miles as the crow flies, - I could see in the clear atmosphere the walls of Peking. They might as - well have been a hundred, I thought ruefully, for all the help I was - likely to get from that city to-night, if this were not really my temple. - </p> - <p> - A Chinese temple is sparsely furnished. All the rooms had stone floors, - all of them opened into the courtyard and not into one another, and for - all furniture there were the usual k'angs, two cupboards, three - tables, and three uncomfortable Chinese chairs. I had hired an easy chair, - a lamp, and with my camp outfit I expected to manage. But where was my - camp outfit? - </p> - <p> - I could not understand a word of what the people said, but they seemed - friendly, they well might be, I thought, I was entirely at their mercy, - and a very dirty old gentleman with claw-like hands, an unshaven head, and - the minutest of queues came and contemplated me in a way which was - decidedly disconcerting. I went and looked at the gods, dusty and dirty - too in their sanctuaries. There was a most musical bell alongside one of - them and when I struck it, the clang seemed to emphasise my loneliness and - helplessness. Could this be the right temple? If it was not where was I to - go? There was no means of getting back to Peking, short of walking, even - then the gates must be shut long before I arrived. As far as I knew, there - was no foreigner left in the hills. I went on to the look-out place, and - looked out over the plain, and the old man came and looked at me, and I - grew more and more uncomfortable. <span class="pagenum">365</span><a - name="link365" id="link365"></a>Tiffin time was long past, afternoon tea - time came and went. It had been warm enough in the middle of the day, but - the evenings grow chill towards the end of September, and I had only a - white muslin gown on. At the very best the prospect of sleeping on one of - those cold and stony k'angs did not look inviting. I could have - cried as the shadows grew long and the sun set. - </p> - <p> - And then, oh joy, down beneath me, out on the hill-side, I heard a voice, - an unmistakable American voice. I had been terrified, and like a flash my - terrors rolled away. I looked over and there were a man and a woman taking - an evening stroll, very much at home, for neither of them had on a hat. I - forgot in a moment I had been afraid and I hailed them at once. - </p> - <p> - “Is this the San Shan An?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure,” said the man as they looked up in surprise. - </p> - <p> - Well, that was a relief anyhow, and I thought how foolish I had been to be - afraid. But where were the carts? - </p> - <p> - The stranger said they ought to have arrived hours ago, and then they bid - me good-bye, and I waited once more. I was uncomfortable now—I was - no longer afraid. At least not till it grew dark, and then, I must - confess, the place seemed to me strangely eerie. The sun was set, the moon - was old, and not due till the morning, the faint wind moaned through the - pine-branches, and the darkness was full of all sorts of strange, - mysterious, unexplainable sounds. It was cold, cold, and the morning and - the light were a good eleven hours off. - </p> - <p> - Then, just as I was in the depths of despair, there <span class="pagenum">366</span><a - name="link366" id="link366"></a>was a commotion in the courtyard, a - lantern flashed on the trunks of the pine-trees, and a kindly American - voice out of the darkness said: - </p> - <p> - “I thought I had better come down and see if your outfit had turned - up.” - </p> - <p> - “There is not a sign of it.” I wonder if there was relief in - my voice. - </p> - <p> - “No, so the people here tell me, and they are in rather a way about - you.” - </p> - <p> - So that was why the dirty old gentleman had apparently been stalking me. - It had never occurred to me that these people could be troubled about me, - this was a new and kindly light on Chinese character. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you'll come along with me,” went on my new - friend. “I've got two ladies staying with me from Tientsin, - and they'll do the best they can for you for the night.” - </p> - <p> - Bless him, bless him, I could have hugged him. Go, of course I went - thankfully, and with his lantern, he guided me over the steepest and - roughest of mountain paths till we came to his temple, a much bigger one - than mine. - </p> - <p> - “I thought there was no one left in the hills,” I said as we - went along. - </p> - <p> - “I'm going next week,” he said, “but I love this - valley. There is only one lovelier in the world—the one I was born - in.” - </p> - <p> - “And where is that?” - </p> - <p> - “The Delaware Valley. These people,” he went on, “are - mightily relieved to hear I am going to keep you for the night.” - </p> - <p> - Again I thanked him, and indeed he and his friends were friends in need. - “And I cannot make them understand like you do,” I said a - little futilely. <span class="pagenum">367</span><a name="link367" - id="link367"></a>"Well, I ought to,” he laughed. “I'm - the Language Officer.” - </p> - <p> - He decided my carts had had time to come from Peking and go back again, - and they must have gone up the wrong valley, and he and his friends took - me in and fed me, and comforted me, so that I was ready to laugh at my - woes, and then, just as we were finishing an excellent dinner, there - appeared on the terrace, where we were dining, an agitated individual with - a guttering candle, my boy, whom I hardly knew by sight yet. - </p> - <p> - He told a tale of woe and suffering. According to him, the road to Jehol - must have been nothing to that road from Peking to the Western Hills, and - I and my new friends went down to inspect what was left of my outfit. - There wasn't much in it that was smashable, and beyond salad oil in - the bread and kerosene in the salt, there was not much damage done. I - could not understand though how they had come to grief at all, for the - loads were certainly light for two carts, and once in the hills, of - course, the goods were carried by men. And then the truth dawned on me. It - was the way of a Chinese servant all over. I had been foolish enough to - give my boy the five dollars to pay for the two carts. He had made one do, - and pocketed two dollars fifty cents. I asked him if such were not the - case. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah,” said he, and I wondered, till I found that he - always said “Yes, sah,” whether he understood me or not. More - often than not he did not understand, but that “sah” made me - understand he had learned his little English from a countryman of my - friend, the Language Officer. - </p> - <p> - And after all I think I was glad of the little adventure. I had not - realised how eerie a temple would be all by myself at night, and it was - good to think that for a night or two at least there would be people of my - own colour within a quarter of an hour of me on the hill-side. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0066" id="linkimage-0066"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0518.jpg" alt="0518 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0518.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI—FROM THE SAN SHAN AN - </h2> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">369</span><a name="link369" id="link369"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <i>An old temple—Haunted—Wolf with green eyes—Loneliness—Death - of missionaries—Fear—Sanctuaries—“James Buchanan”—Valiant - farmers—Autumn tints—Famous priest—Sacrifice of - disciples—Tree conserving—Camels at my gate—Servants—“Cook - book”—Enchanted hills—Cricket cages—Kindly people—The - fall of Belshazzar—Hope for the future.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd with two - servants and the temple coolies to wait upon me I settled down in the San - Shan An, the Temple of the Three Mountains, the oldest temple in this - valley of temples, built long ago in the Sung Dynasty. They said it was - haunted, haunted by the ghost of a big snake, and when the mud from the - roof fell as so much dust on the stone floor, and over me, my tables and - chairs and bed, my boy stretched out his arms and explained that the snake - had done it. The snake, I found, always accounted for dust. When my jam - and butter disappeared, and I suspected human agency, he said in his - pidgin-English, “I tink—I tink——” and then - words failed him, and he broke out into spelling, “I tink it R—A—T.” - Why he could spell that word and not pronounce it I do not know, but until - I left I did not know that the snake that lived in my roof was - supernatural. I don't think even I could be afraid of the ghost of a - snake. The temple up above, the Language <span class="pagenum">370</span><a - name="link370_rdquo_________id_" id="link370_rdquo_________id_"></a>Officer's - temple, was haunted by a wolf with green eyes, and that would have been a - different matter. I am glad I did not dare the wolf with green eyes. For I - was all by myself. The Language Officer, the Good Samaritan, went back to - Peking, and, except at week-ends, when I persuaded a friend or two to - dissipate my loneliness, I was the only foreigner in the valley. Go back - to Peking until the work I had set myself to do was done, I determined I - would not. It has been a curious and lonely existence away in the hills, - in the little temple embosomed in trees, among a people who speak not a - word of my language; but it had its charm. I had my camp-bed set up on the - little platform looking out over the place of tombs, with the great Peking - plain beyond, and there, while the weather was warm, I had all my meals, - and there, warm or cold, I always slept. When the evening shadows fell I - was lonely, I was worse than lonely, all that I had missed in life came - crowding before my eyes, all the years seemed empty, wasted, all the - future hopeless, and I went to bed and tried to sleep, if only to forget. - </p> - <p> - And China is not a good place in which to try the lonely life. There are - too many tragic histories associated with it, and one is apt to remember - them at the wrong times. Was I afraid at night? I was, I think, a little, - but then I am so often afraid, and so often my fears are false, that I - have learned not to pay much attention to them. I knew very well that the - Legations would not have allowed me, without a word of warning, to take a - temple in the hills, had there been any likelihood of danger, but still, - when the evening shadows fell, I could not but remember <span - class="pagenum">371</span><a name="link371" id="link371"></a>once again, - Sir Robert Hart's dictum, and that if anything did happen, I was cut - off here from all my kind. It was just Fear, the Fear that one - personifies, but another time, if I elect to live by myself among an alien - people, I do not think I will improve my mind by reading first any account - of the atrocities those people have perpetrated at no very remote period. - As the darkness fell I was apt to start and look over my shoulder at any - unexplainable sound, to remember these things and to hope they would not - happen again, which is first cousin to fearing they would. At Pao Ting Fu, - not far from here as distances in China go, during the Boxer trouble, the - Boxers attacked the missionaries, both in the north and the south suburb, - just outside the walls of the town. In the north suburb the Boxers and - their following burned those missionaries to death in their houses, - because they would not come out. They dared not. Think how they must have - feared, those men and women in the prime of their life, when they stayed - and faced a cruel death from which there was no escape, rather than chance - the mercies of the mob outside. One woman prayed them to save her baby - girl, her little, tender Margaret, not a year old, her they might kill, - and her husband, and her two little boys, but would no one take pity on - the baby, the baby that as yet could not speak. But though many of those - who heard her prayer and repeated it, pitied, they did not dare help. It - is a notable Chinese characteristic—obedience to orders—and - the lookers-on thought that those in authority having ordered the - slaughter of the missionaries it was not their part to interfere. They - told afterwards how, as a brute rushed up the <span class="pagenum">372</span><a - name="link372" id="link372"></a>stairs, the mother, desperate, seized a - pistol that lay to her hand and shot him. I am always glad she did that. - And others told, how, through the mounting flames, they could see her - husband walking up and down, leading his two little boys by the hand, - telling them—ah, what could any man say under such terrible - circumstances as that. - </p> - <p> - And in the south suburb the missionary doctor was true almost to the - letter of the faith he preached. As the mob surrounded him, he took a - revolver, showed them how perfect was his command over the weapon, how he - could have dealt death right and left, and then he tossed it aside and - submitted to their wicked will, and they took him and cut off his head. - But the fate of the women always horrified me most. It was that that - seemed most terrible in the dusk of the evening. They took two of the - unmarried women, and one was too terrified to walk—having once seen - a Chinese crowd, filthy, horrible and always filthy and horrible even when - they are friendly, one realises what it must be to be in their power, one - understands that girl's shrinking terror. Her they tied, hands and - feet together, and slung her from a pole, exactly as they carry pigs to - market. Is this too terrible a thing to write down for everyone to read? - It almost seems to me it is. If so forgive me. I used to think about it - those evenings alone in the San Shan An. And one of those women, they say, - was always brave, and gave to a little child her last little bit of money - as she walked to her death, and the other, who was so terrified at first, - recovered herself, and walked courageously as they led her to execution - outside the city walls. - </p> - <p> - When I thought of those women I was ashamed <span class="pagenum">373</span><a - name="link373" id="link373"></a> of the Fear that made me afraid to look - behind me in the dark, made me listen intently for unusual sounds, and - hear a thousand unexplainable ones. I, in the broad daylight, went and - looked in the two sanctuaries that were at each end of my courtyard, each - with an image and altar in it. In both were stored great matting bundles - of Spanish chestnuts, and in the larger, oh sacrilege! oh bathos! was my - larder, and I saw eggs, and meat, and cabbage, and onions, coming out of - it, but I do not think anything could have induced me to go into those - places after nightfall. I ask myself why—I wonder—but I find - no answer. The gods were only images, the dust and dirt of long years was - upon them, they were dead, dead, and yet I, the most modern of women was - afraid—at night I was afraid, the fear that seems to grow up with us - all was upon me. By and by a friend sent me out “James Buchanan”—a - small black and white k'ang dog, about six inches high, but his - importance must by no means be measured by his size. I owe much gratitude - to James Buchanan for he is a most cheerful and intelligent companion. I - intended to part with him when I left the hills, but I made him love me, - and then to my surprise, I found I loved him, and he must share my varying - fortunes. But what is a wandering woman, like I am, to do with a little - dog? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0067" id="linkimage-0067"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0524.jpg" alt="0524 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0524.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - We went for walks together up and down the hill-sides, and the people got - to know us, and laughed and nodded as we passed. The Chinese seem fond of - animals, and yet you never see a man out for a walk with his dog. A man - with a bird-cage in his hand, taking birdie for a walk, is a common <span - class="pagenum">374</span><a name="link374" id="link374"></a>sight in - China, so common that you forget to notice it, but I have never seen a man - followed by a dog, though most of the farm-houses appear to have one or - two to guard them. Here, in the hills, they were just the ordinary, ugly - <i>wonks</i> one sees in Peking, not nearly such handsome beasts as I saw - up in the mountains. The farms in these hills evidently require a good - deal of guarding, for I would often hear the crack of a gun. Some farmer, - so my friend, the Language Officer, told me, letting the “stealer - man,” and anyone else whom it might concern, know that he had - fire-arms and was prepared to use them. At first the reports used to - startle me, and make me look out into the darkness of the hill-side, - darkness deepened here and there by a tiny light, and I used to wonder if - anything was wrong. “Buchanan” always regarded those reports - as entirely out of place, and said so at the top of his small voice. But - then he was always challenging <i>wonks</i>, or finding “stealer - men,” so I paid no attention to him. - </p> - <p> - At the first red streak of dawn, for the temple faced the east, I wakened. - And all my fears, the dim, mysterious, unexplainable fears born of the - night, and the loneliness, and the old temple, were gone, rolled away with - the darkness. The crescent moon and the jewelled stars paled before the - sun, rising in a glory of purple and gold, a glory that brightened to - crimson, the pungent, aromatic fragrance of the pines and firs came to my - nostrils, their branches were outlined against the deep blue of the sky, - and I realised gradually that another blue day had dawned and the world - was not empty, but full of the most wonderful possibilities waiting but to - be grasped. Oh those dawnings in the San Shan An! Those dawnings after a - night in the open air! Never shall I forget them! - </p> - <p> - And the valley was lovely that autumn weather. Day after day, day after - day, was the golden sunshine, the clear, deep blue sky, the still, dry, - invigorating air—no wonder everyone with a literary turn yearns to - write a book in a valley of the Western Hills. And this valley of the San - Shan An was the loveliest valley of them all. It, too, is a valley of - temples, to what gods they were set up I know not, by whom they were set - up I know not, only because of the gods and the temples there are trees, - trees in plenty, evergreen firs and pines, green-leaved poplars and - ash-trees, maples and Spanish chesnuts. At first they were green, these - deciduous trees, and then gradually, as autumn touched them tenderly with - his fingers, they took on gorgeous tints, gold and brown, and red, and - amber, the summer dying gloriously under the cloudless blue sky. They tell - me that American woods show just such tints, but I have not been to - America, and I have seen nothing to match this autumn in the Chinese - hills. And I had not thought to see beauty like this in China! - </p> - <p> - I counted seven temples, and there were probably more. Up the hill to the - north of my valley, beyond a large temple that I shall always remember for - the quaint and picturesque doorway, that I have photographed, was a - plateau to be reached by a stiff climb, and here was a ruined shrine where - sat calmly looking over the plain, as he had probably looked in life, the - marble figure of a very famous priest of the long ago. It is ages since - this priest <span class="pagenum">376</span><a name="link376" id="link376"></a>lived - in the hills, but his memory is fragrant still. He had two disciples. I - wonder if the broken marble figures, one beside him and one on the ground - outside the shrine, are figures of them. There came a drought upon the - land, the crops failed and the people starved, and these two, to - propitiate a cruel or neglectful Deity, flung themselves into a well in - the temple with the beautiful doorway. Whether the rain came I know not, - but tradition says that the two disciples instead of perishing rose up - dragons. Personally I feel that must have been an unpleasant surprise for - the devotees, but you never know a Chinaman's taste, perhaps they - liked being dragons. The country people seem to think it was an honour. - There was a farmhouse just beyond this shrine, a poor little place, but - here on the flat top of the hill there was a little arable land, and the - Chinese waste no land. Far up the hill-sides, in the most inaccessible - places, I could see these little patches of cultivated ground. It seemed - to me that the labour of reaching them would make the handful of grain - they produced too expensive, but labour hardly counts in China. Up the - paths toiled men and women, intent on getting the last grain out of the - land. Off the beaten ways walking is pretty nearly impossible so steep are - the hill-sides, but of course there are paths, paths everywhere, paved - paths, in China there are no untrodden ways, and upon these paths I would - meet the peasants and the priests, clad like ordinary peasants in blue - cotton, only with shaven heads. My own landlord whom my boy called “Monk,” - and generally added, “He bad man,” used to come regularly for - his rent, and he was so fat that the wicked evidently flourished like a - green bay tree. All the priests, I think, let out their temples as long as - they can get tenants, and whatever they are—my landlord had beaten a - man to death—much must be forgiven them. They have gained merit - because, in this treeless China, they have conserved and planted trees. - Some little profit, I suppose they make out of their trees because, one - day in September, I waked to the fact that at my gate, how they had - climbed up the toilsome, roughly-paved way I know not, was a train of - camels, and they had come to take away the sacks that were stored in the - sanctuary under the care of the god. What on earth was done with those - Spanish chestnuts? They must have been valuable when they were worth a - train of camels to take them away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0068" id="linkimage-0068"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0530.jpg" alt="0530 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0530.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - As far as I could see there was no worship done in my temple, the coolies, - who carefully locked the sanctuary doors at night, were filthy past all - description. I tried to put it out of my thoughts that they occupied a k'ang - at night in the room that did duty for my kitchen, and I am very sure that - they were the poorest of the poor, but at night I would see the youngest - and dirtiest of them take a small and evil-smelling lamp inside along with - the god, but what he did there I never knew. Only the lamp inside, behind - the paper of the windows lit up all the lattice-work and made of that - sanctuary, that shabby, neglected-looking place, a thing of beauty. But, - indeed, the outside of all the buildings was wonderful at night. In the - daytime when I looked I saw how beautiful was the lattice-work which made - up the entire top half of my walls. At night in the courtyard when only a - single candle was lighted <span class="pagenum">378</span><a name="link378" - id="link378"></a>their beauty was forced upon me, whether I would or not. - Always I went outside to look at those rooms lighted at night. I walked up - and down the courtyard in the dark—“James Buchanan” - generally hung on to the hem of my gown—I looked at the lighted - lattice-work of the windows, and I listened to the servants and the - coolies talking, and I wondered what they discussed so endlessly, in - voices that sounded quite European. - </p> - <p> - They were good servants. The cook I know I shall regret all my days, for I - never expect to get a better, and the boy was most attentive. Any little - thing that he could do for me he always did, and the way they - uncomplainingly washed up plates never ceased to command my admiration. I - had only a camp outfit, the making of books may be weariness unto the - flesh, as Solomon says it is, but even then it does not make me a rich - woman, so I did not wish to spend more than I could help, and yet I wanted - to entertain a friend or two occasionally. This entailed washing the - plates between the courses, and the servants did it without a murmur. I - came to think it was quite the correct thing to wait while the plates and - knives for the next course were washed up. My friends, of course, knew all - about it, and entered into the spirit of the thing cheerfully, but the - servants never gave me away. You would have thought I had a splendid - pantry, and my little scraps of white metal spoons were always polished - till they looked like the silver they ought to have been. My table linen I - made simply out of the ordinary blue cotton one meets all over China, and - it looked so nice, so suitable to meals on the look-out place, that I - shall always cherish a tenderness for blue cotton. <span class="pagenum">379</span><a - name="link379" id="link379"></a>Indeed, but for the lonely nights when one - thought, it was delightful. I only hope my friends enjoyed coming to me, - as much as I enjoyed having them. Their presence drove away all fears. I - never feared the gods in their sanctuaries, I never thought of those who - had perished in the Boxer trouble or the possibility of the return of such - days when they were with me. I thought I had lost the delights of youth, - the joy of the land of long ago, but I found the sensation of entertaining - friends in the San Shan An was like the make-believe parties of one's - childhood. Sitting on the look-out place, away to the south, we could see - a range of low, bald hills. They were enchanted hills. The Chinese would - not go near them, for all that the caves they held hidden in their folds - were full of magnificent jewels. We planned to go over and get them some - day before I left the hills, and make ourselves rich for life. But they - were guarded by gnomes, and elves, and demons, who by their nefarious - spells kept us away, though we did not fear like the Chinese, and we are - not rich yet, though jewels are there for the taking. - </p> - <p> - Oh, those sunny days in the mountain temple when we read poetry, and told - stories, and dreamed of the better things life held for us in the future! - They were good days, days in my life to be remembered, if no more good - ever comes to me. Was it the exhilarating air, or the company, or the - temple precincts? All thanks give I to those dead gods who gave me, for a - brief space, something that was left out of my life. - </p> - <p> - There was only one blot. That imaginative document known as “Cook's - book” was brought to me afterwards. It wasn't a book at all, - needless to <span class="pagenum">380</span><a name="link380" id="link380"></a>say. - It was written on rejected scraps of my typewriting paper, and it - generally stated I had eaten more “Chiken” than would have - sufficed to run a big hotel, and disposed of enough “col” to - keep a small railway engine of my own. Then the flour, and the butter, and - the milk, and the lard, I was supposed to have consumed! I did not at - first like to say much, because the servants were so good in that matter - of washing plates, and knives, and forks, and whenever I did remonstrate - the boy murmured something about “Master.” He was a true - Chinaman, he felt sure I would not grudge anything to make a man - comfortable. The woman evidently did not matter. She was never urged as an - excuse for a heavy bill. I put it to him that the presence of “Master” - need not add so greatly to the coal bill, and I put it very gently, till - one day he mentioned with pride that “Missie other boy was a great - friend of his.” And I, remembering Tuan's powers in the matter - of squeeze, had gone about getting these servants through quite different - channels! But once this knowledge was borne in on me, I became - hardhearted. I threatened to do the marketing myself. - </p> - <p> - “I talkee cook,” said the crestfallen boy, and he did “talkee - cook,” said, I suppose, Missie wasn't quite the fool they had - counted her, and presently he came back and returned me fifteen cents! - After that I had no mercy, and I regularly questioned every item of my - bills. - </p> - <p> - But they were simple souls, and I couldn't help liking them. It - seemed hardly possible they could belong to the same people who had slung - a helpless woman from a pole like a pig, bearing her to her death, a woman - from whom they had had naught <span class="pagenum">381</span><a - name="link381" id="link381"></a>but kindness. And yet they were. The - selfsame subservience that made them bow themselves to the Boxer yoke, was - exactly the quality that made them pleasant to me, who was in authority - over them. They were just peasants of Babylon, making the best of life, - deceiving and dissimulating, because deception is the safeguard of the - slave, the only safeguard he knows. And they certainly made the best of - life. It amused me to watch their pleasures, those that were visible to my - eyes. They had a little feast one night, with my stores, I doubt not, and - they caught and kept crickets in little three-cornered cages which they - made themselves. At first, when I went to the temple, these cages were - hung from the eaves outside, but as the weather grew colder they were - taken inside, and I could hear a cheery chirping, long after the crickets - had gone from the hills outside. It rained and was cold the first week in - October, and the servants, like the babies they were, shivered, and - suggested, “Missie go back Peking,” and one day when it rained - hard my tiffin was two hours late, and was brought by a boy who looked as - if he were on the point of bursting into tears. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0070" id="linkimage-0070"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0537.jpg" alt="0537 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0537.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Certainly those temples are not built for cold weather. Everything is - ordered in China, even the weather, and the first frost is due, I believe, - on the 1st of November, and yet, on that day, I sat in the warm and - pleasant sunshine writing on the platform that looked away to the - enchanted hills, reflecting a little sorrowfully that presently I would be - gone, and it would be abandoned for the winter. - </p> - <p> - For after that unexpected rain, which for once was not ordered, the days - were lovely, and the nights <span class="pagenum">382</span><a - name="link382" id="link382"></a>times of delight. The stars hung like - diamond drops in the sky, the planets were scintillating crescents, and, - when the moon rose, the silver moon, she turned the courtyard and the - temple into a dream palace such as never was on sea or land. It was beauty - and delight given, oh given with a lavish hand. - </p> - <p> - And the people I saw in the hills were the kindliest I had yet met in - China. I had little enough to do with them, I could not communicate with - them, and yet this was borne in on me. Whenever we met, dirty brown faces - smiled upon me, kindly voices with a burr in them gave me greeting, I was - regularly offered the baby of the farm-house at my gates, much to that - young gentleman's discomfiture, and whenever there was anything to - see, they evidently invited me to stay and share the sight. Once a bridal - procession passed with much beating of gongs, the bride shut up in the red - sedan chair, and all the people about stood looking on, and I stayed too. - Another time they were killing a pig, an unwieldy, gruesome beast, that - made me forswear pork, and I was invited to attend the great event. The - poor pig was very sorry for himself, and was squealing loudly, but much as - I wished to show I appreciated kindliness, I could not accept that - invitation. - </p> - <p> - And here in the Western Hills I sat in judgment upon the people I had - known of all my life and been amongst for the last ten months. Of course, - I have no right to sit in judgment but after all, I should be a fool to - live among people for some time and yet have no opinion about them. And it - seemed to me that I was looking with modern eyes upon the <span - class="pagenum">383</span><a name="link383" id="link383"></a>survival of - one of the great powers of the ancient world, Babylon come down to modern - times, Babylon cumbrously adapting herself to the pressure of the nations - who have raced ahead of the civilisation that was hers when they were - barbarian hordes. - </p> - <p> - All along the Pacific Coast, on the west of America, and the east of - Australia, they fear the Chinaman, and—I used to say his virtues. I - put it the wrong way. What the white races fear—and rightly fear—is - that the Chinaman will come in such hordes, he will lower the standard of - living, he will bring such great pressure to bear, he will reduce the - people of the land in which he elects to live, the people of the working - classes, to his own condition—the hopeless condition of the toiling - slaves of Babylon. It has been well said that the East, China, is the - exact opposite of the West in every thought and feeling. In the West we - honour individualism. This is true of almost every nation. A man is taught - from his earliest youth to depend to a great degree upon himself, that he - alone is responsible for his own actions. Even the women of the more - advanced nations—it marks their advancement, whatever people may - think—are clamouring for a position of their own, to be judged on - their merits, not to be one of a class bound by iron custom to go one way - and one way only. In the East this is reversed. No man has a right to - judge for himself, he is hide-bound by custom, he dare not step out one - pace from the beaten path his fathers trod. The filial piety of the - Chinese has been lauded to the skies. In truth it is a virtue that has - become a curse. To his elders the Chinaman <span class="pagenum">384</span><a - name="link384" id="link384"></a>must give implicit, unquestioning - obedience. His work, his marriage, the upbringing of his children, the - whole ordering of his life is not his business but the business of those - in authority over him. If he stepped out and failed, his failure would - affect the whole community. Whatever he does affects not only himself, but - the farthest ramifications of his numerous family. This interdependence - makes for a certain excellence, an excellence that was reached by the - Chinese nation some thousands of years ago, and then—it is stifling. - </p> - <p> - This patriarchal system, this continual keeping of the eyes upon the past, - has done away in the nation with all self-reliance. A man must be not only - a genius, but possessed of an extraordinarily strong will-power if he - manage to shake off the trammels and go his own way unaided, if he - exercise the sturdy self-reliance that sent the nations of the West ahead - by leaps and bounds, though the Chinese had worked their way to - civilisation ages before them. Pages might be written on the subservience - and ignorance of the women. - </p> - <p> - “Oh but a woman has influence,” say the men who know China - most intimately. And of course she has influence, but in China it must - often be the worst form of power, the influence of the favourite, favoured - slave. The woman's influence is the influence of a degraded, - ignorant, and servile class, a class that every man treats openly with a - certain contempt, a class that is crippled, mentally and bodily. The - Chinese, be it counted to them for grace, have always held in high esteem - a well-educated man, educated on their archaic lines; but not, I think, - till this century, has it ever occurred to <span class="pagenum">385</span><a - name="link385" id="link385"></a>them that a woman would be better - educated. A cruel drag upon the nation must be the appalling ignorance of - its women, the intense ignorance of half the population. Things are - changing, they say, but, of necessity, they change most slowly. Knowledge - of any kind takes long, long to permeate an inert mass. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0071" id="linkimage-0071"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0543.jpg" alt="0543 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0543.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - We praise the Chinaman for his industry. But, in truth, we praise without - due cause. We of the West have long since learned of the dignity of labour - and if we do not always live up to our ideals, at least we appreciate - them, and judged by this standard the Chinaman is found wanting. He does - not appreciate the dignity of labour. The long nails on the fingers of the - man upon whom fortune has smiled proclaim to all that he has no need to - use his hands; his fat, flabby, soft body declares him rich and well-fed, - and that there is no need to exert himself. He is a man to be envied by - the greater part of the nation. The forceful, strenuous life of the West, - the life that has made the nations has no charms for, excites no - admiration in his breast. Manual labour and strife is for the man who - cannot help himself. And, man for man, his manual labour will by no means - compare with that accomplished by the man of the West. Nominally he works - from dawn to dark, really he wastes two-thirds of the time, sometimes in - useless, misdirected effort, sometimes in mere idle loitering. He is a - slave in all but name. His life is dull, dull and colourless; he can look - forward to no recreation when his work is over, therefore he spins it out - the livelong day. Home life, in the best sense of the term, he has none, - he may just as well stay at his <span class="pagenum">386</span><a - name="link386" id="link386"></a>work, exchanging ideas and arguing with - his fellows. - </p> - <p> - Something to hope for, to live for, to work for, seems to me the great - desideratum of the majority of the Chinese nation, something a little - beyond the colourless round of life. The greater part of the nation is - poor, so poor that industry is thrust upon it, unless it worked it would - of necessity die; the struggle for life absorbs all its energies, gives it - no time for thought sufficient to raise it an inch above the dull routine - that makes up the daily round, but the country is by no means poor, had it - been there would have been no such civilisation so early and so lasting in - the world's history, no such fostering of a race that now, in spite - of most evil sanitary conditions, raises four generations to the three of - the man of the West. - </p> - <p> - China is a rich land and once she is wiser she will be far richer still, - for in her mountains are such store of iron and coal as, once worked, may - well revolutionise the industrial world. - </p> - <p> - Now the thought of revolutionising the condition of the industrial world - brings me quite naturally to the consideration of missionary effort. - </p> - <p> - For the last two hundred and fifty years the Catholic, and for the last - hundred years the Protestant Churches, have been working in China with a - view to proselytising the people. And converts are notoriously harder to - make than in any other missionary field. Still they are made. - </p> - <p> - To me, a Greek, it does not seem to matter by what name a man calls upon - the Great Power that is over us all—the thing that really matters is - the life of the man who calls upon that God. Now the missionaries, whether - they make converts, or whether they do not, do this, they set up a higher - standard of living. They come among these slave people, they educate them, - men and women, they care for the sick by thousands, and by their very - presence among them they show them, I speak of material things, there is - something beyond their own narrow round, and they make them desire these - better things. If the Western nations are wise they will allow no poor - missionaries in China, it is so easy to sink to the level of the people, - to become as Chinese as the Chinese themselves. Personally, I think it is - a mistake to conform to Chinese customs. The missionaries are there to - preach the better customs of the West and there must be no lowering of the - standard. The Chinaman wants to be taught self-reliance, he wants to be - taught self-respect, and, last but by no means least, he wants to be - taught to amuse himself rationally and healthily. Now this in a measure, - even this last, is what the missionaries, the majority of them, are - teaching him, though, doubtless, they would not put their teaching in - exactly those words, might be even surprised to hear it so described. They - are helping to break down the great patriarchal system which has been - stifling China for so many hundreds of years. They are teaching - responsibility, the responsibility of every man and woman for his and her - own doings. - </p> - <p> - And they are pioneers of trade, forerunners of the merchants who must - inevitably follow in their footsteps. There are those who will say that - they do not influence the more highly educated portion of the community, - but they come to those who need <span class="pagenum">388</span><a - name="link388" id="link388"></a>them most. The rich can afford to send - their sons abroad, to pay for medical attendance. It is to those of humble - means that the schools and hospitals introduced by foreign charity are an - immeasurable advantage, a boon beyond price. For the man who has once come - in contact with these foreigners never forgets. He has seen their - possessions, humble in their eyes, wonderful in his, and in his heart a - desire is implanted—a desire for something a little better than has - satisfied his fathers. And slowly this little leaven of discontent, - heavenly discontent and dissatisfaction with things as they are, will - permeate the whole lump. China is daily coming more in contact with the - rest of the world. That world ruthlessly shuts out her proletariat because - it will not be pulled down. It is well then that the proletariat should be - levelled up. The process is slowly beginning when the missionaries put - into the hands of a labourer the Gospels, tell him he is of as much value - as the President in his palace, make him desire to read, to wash his face - to be just a little better than his fellows. The creed he holds is a small - matter, but it is a great matter if he be no longer a slave, but a - self-respecting man fit to mingle on equal terms with the men of the West. - Such a man will be more capable, more ready to develop the resources of - his own rich land; as a trader he will be of ten times more value to the - mercantile world for ever on the look-out for a market. Whether the - nations then need fear him will be matter for further consideration. It is - possible things may be adjusted on a comfortable basis of supply and - demand. - </p> - <p> - It would be unfair to give all credit for changing {3898}China to the - missionaries. They are only one factor in a general movement that her own - sons, the men of new China, have deeply at heart. The past is going, but - the great change will not be anything violent. The Boxer tragedy awakened - the Western world thoroughly to what it had always felt, that an Empire - like Babylon was unsuited to the present day, and they said so with shot - and shell, and China is taking the lesson to heart, slowly, slowly, but - she is taking it. She will have learned it thoroughly when the need for - change, the desire for better things, the power to insist on a higher - standard of living shall have come to her lower classes, and then she will - not change exactly as the Western world would wish, but as she herself - thinks best. The Chinese have always adapted themselves, and in these - modern times they will use the same methods that they have done through - the centuries. - </p> - <p> - There came forth the fingers of a man's hand and wrote upon the - plaster of the wall of the King's Palace, “<i>MENE MENE TEKEL - UPHAR-SIN</i>.” In that night was Belshazzar, the King of the - Chaldeans, slain, and Darius the Mede took the kingdom. So the men who - made the Forbidden City sacred have passed away, the Dowager-Empress who - defied the West has gone to her long home, the Emperor is but a tiny - child, his Empire is confined within the pinkish red walls of the Inner - City, and the Republic, the new young Republic with a Dictator at its - head, reigns in his stead. But the nation is stirring, the slow-moving, - patient slaves of Babylon. Will not a new nation arise that shall be great - in its own way even as the nations of the West are great, for surely the - spirit of those men <span class="pagenum">390</span><a name="link390" - id="link390"></a>who built the wondrous courtyards and halls of audience - of the Forbidden City, who planned the pleasure-grounds at Jehol, who - stretched the wall over two thousand miles of mountain and valley, who - conceived the Altar of Heaven, the most glorious altar ever dedicated to - any Deity, must be alive and active as it was a thousand' years ago. - And when that spirit animates not the few taskmasters, but the mass of the - people, when it reaches the toiling slaves and makes of them men, the - nation will be like the palaces and altars they built hundreds of years - ago, and the rest of the world may stand aside, and wonder, and, perhaps, - fear. - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman In China, by Mary Gaunt - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN IN CHINA *** - -***** This file should be named 54401-h.htm or 54401-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/4/0/54401/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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- <head>
- <title>A Woman In China, by Mary Gaunt</title>
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman In China, by Mary Gaunt
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: A Woman In China
- Illustrated
-
-Author: Mary Gaunt
-
-Release Date: March 21, 2017 [EBook #54401]
-Last Updated: March 12, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN IN CHINA ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- A WOMAN IN CHINA
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Mary Gaunt
- </h2>
- <h3>
- Author Of "Alone In West Africa," "The Uncounted Cost," Etc.
- </h3>
- <h4>
- London: T. Werner Laurie Ltd.
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1915
- </h3>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> A WOMAN IN CHINA </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—ACROSS THE OLD WORLD </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—A CITY OF THE AGES </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—THE WALLS AND GATES OF BABYLON
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—THE LEGATION QUARTER OF PEKING
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—THE FUNERAL OF AN EMPRESS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—A TIME OF REJOICING </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—TWO CHARITIES </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—A CHINESE INN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—THE TUNGLING </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—A WALLED CITY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—THE NINE DRAGON TEMPLE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—IN THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAINS
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—TO THE GREEKS, FOOLISHNESS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—A VISIT TO THE TARTAR GENERAL
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—A PLEASURE-GROUND OF THE
- MANCHUS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD GODS
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—IN A WUPAN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—A RIVER PORT IN BABYLON </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—THE WAYS OF THE CHINESE SERVANT
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—FROM THE SAN SHAN AN </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A WOMAN IN CHINA
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—ACROSS THE OLD WORLD
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">001</span><a name="link001" id="link001"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>My grandmother's curios—Camels and elephants—Dr
- Morrison—Chinese in Australia—Feared for his virtues—Racial
- animosity—Great Northern Plain—A city of silence—A land
- of exile—The Holy Sea—Frost flowers on a birch forest—Chaos
- at Manchuria and Kharbin—Japanese efficiency—A Peking dust
- storm.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen I was a little
- girl and was taken to see my grandmother, she set out for my amusement, to
- be looked at but not touched by little fingers, various curios brought
- home by my grandfather from China in the old days when he was a sailor in
- the Honourable East India Company's service; beautifully carved
- ivory chessmen, a model of a Chinese lady's foot about three inches
- long, dainty mother-of-pearl counters made in the likeness of all manner
- of strange beasts, lacquer boxes and ivory balls; models of palankeens in
- ivory, and fans that seemed to me, brought up in the somewhat
- rough-and-ready surroundings of a new country, dreams of loveliness. The
- impression was made, I felt the fascination of China, the fascination of a
- thing far beyond me. Like the pretty things, so out of my reach it seemed
- that I did not even add it to the list of places I intended to <span
- class="pagenum">002</span><a name="link002" id="link002"></a>visit when I
- grew up, for even then my great desire was to travel all over the world; I
- was born with the wander fever in my blood, but unfortunately with small
- means of satisfying it. As I grew older I used to read every travel book I
- could get hold of, and later on when I began to live by my pen I got into
- the habit of gauging my chances of seeing a country by the number of books
- written about it. China, judged by this standard, fell naturally into the
- place assigned to it by my grandmother's curios; for from the days
- of Marco Polo men have gone up and down the land, painfully, sorrowfully,
- gladly, triumphantly, and at least half of them seem to have put pen to
- paper to describe what they have seen. Was it likely there would be
- anything left for me to write about?
- </p>
- <p>
- Then one bright Sunday morning when the sun was shining, as he does
- occasionally shine in England, the spirit moved me to go down the Brighton
- line to spend a day with Parry Truscott, a fellow storyteller. The unkind
- Fates have seen to it that I live alone, and arriving at Victoria that
- bright morning I felt amiably disposed and desirous of exchanging ideas
- with somebody. In the carriage I had chosen were already seated two nicely
- dressed women, and coming along the platform was a porter with hot-water
- bottles. The morning was sharp and the opportunity was not to be lost, I
- turned to them and asked them if they would not like a hot-water bottle.
- Alas! Alas! Those women towards whom I had felt so friendly evidently did
- not reciprocate my feelings. In chilly accents calculated to discourage
- the boldest—and I am not the boldest—they gave me to
- understand that they required neither the hot-<span class="pagenum">003</span><a
- name="link003" id="link003"></a>water bottle nor my conversation, so,
- snubbed, I retired to the other side of the carriage and amused myself
- with my own thoughts and the sunshine and shadow on the green country
- through which we were passing. Half the journey was done when I saw, to my
- astonishment, a sight that is not often seen in the Sussex lanes, a train
- of camels and elephants marching along. It seemed to me something worth
- seeing, and entirely forgetting that I had been put in my place earlier in
- the morning I cried, “Oh, look! Look! Camels and elephants!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Those two ladies were a credit to the English nation. They bore themselves
- with the utmost propriety. What they thought of me I can only dimly guess,
- but they never even raised their eyes from their papers. Of course the
- train rushed on, the camels and elephants were left behind, and there was
- nothing to show they had ever been there. Then I regret to state that I
- lay back and laughed till I cried, and whenever I felt a little better the
- sight of those two studious women solemnly reading their papers set me off
- again. When I got out at Hassocks they did not allow themselves to look
- relieved, that perhaps would have been expressing too much emotion before
- a stranger who had behaved in so eccentric a fashion, but they literally
- drew their skirts around them so that they should not touch mine and be
- contaminated as I passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is always more than one side to a story; how I should love to hear
- the version of that journey told by those two ladies; doubtless it would
- not in the faintest degree resemble mine. And yet there really were camels
- and elephants. And so it occurred to me why not go to a country and try
- and <span class="pagenum">004</span><a name="link004" id="link004"></a>write
- about it, although many had written before. If the gods were kind might I
- not find a story even in China.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile one of my brothers had married a sister of Dr Morrison, and I
- had come into touch with the famous <i>Times</i> correspondent, an
- Australian like myself, and when he came to England he used to come and
- see me, and we talked about China. When I met him again after my elephant
- and camel experience I asked his opinion, would it be worth my while to go
- to China?
- </p>
- <p>
- He was quite of opinion it would, more, he and his newly-wedded wife gave
- me a cordial invitation to stay with them, and the thing was settled. I
- decided to go to Peking. Accordingly, on the last day of January in the
- year of Our Lord 1913, I left Charing Cross in a thick fog for the Far
- East. It is a little thing to do, to get into a train and be whirled
- eastward. There is nothing wonderful about it and yet—and yet—to
- me it was the beginning of romance. I was bound across the old world for a
- land where people had lived as a civilised people for thousands of years
- before we of the West emerged from barbarism, for a country which the new
- nation from which I have sprung regards with peculiar interest. Australia
- has armed herself. Why? Because of China's millions to the north.
- Australia has voted solid for a white Australia, and rigidly excluded the
- coloured man. Why? Not because she fears the Kanaka who helped to develop
- her sugar plantations, but because she fears the yellow man and his
- tireless energy and his low standard of living.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0026.jpg" alt="0026 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0026.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- When I was a child my father, warden of the <span class="pagenum">005</span><a
- name="link005" id="link005"></a>goldfield where he was stationed, was
- also, by virtue of his office, protector of the Chinese; and Heaven knows
- the unfortunate Chinese, industrious, hardworking men of the coolie class
- from Amoy and Canton, badly needed a protector. Many a time have I seen an
- unfortunate Chinaman, cut and bleeding, come to my father's house to
- claim his protection. The larrikins, as we used to call the roughs, had
- stoned him for no reason that they or anyone else could understand but
- only because he was a Chinaman. Now I understand what puzzled and shocked
- me then, and what shocks me still. It is that racial animosity that is so
- difficult to explain to the home-staying Englishman: that animosity which
- is aroused because, subconsciously, the white man knows that the yellow
- man, in lowering the standard of living, will literally take away much of
- the bread and all chance of butter from the community in which he has a
- foothold.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here I was going to see the land whence had come that subservient,
- patient, hard-working coolie of my childhood. And the wonder of that rush
- across the old world, the twelve days' railway journey that takes us
- from the most modern of civilisations to the most ancient—it grew
- upon me as we crossed the great northern plain—historic ground
- whereon the great battles of Europe have been fought. The people in the
- train were dining, supping, playing cards, sleeping, and the cities we
- passed in the darkness seemed mere clusters of dancing lights, such lights
- as I have seen after rain on many a hot and steamy night in West Africa.
- When morning dawned we had passed Berlin and were slowly leaving the
- packed civilisation behind us. A grey low <span class="pagenum">006</span><a
- name="link006" id="link006"></a>sky was overhead and there were clumps of
- fir-trees. Dirty snow was in the hollows, and there were long, straight
- roads drawn with a ruler as they are in Australia, with little bare trees
- at regular intervals on either side, and then again dark fir woods and
- rain everywhere. Soon we had passed the frontier and were in Russia, and I
- felt I could not rush through without one glimpse of it, so I stayed one
- little week in Moscow, and I shall always be glad I did, though there, for
- the first time in my life, I was in a country where my nationality did not
- count, and it was not a pleasant feeling. But Moscow is the city of a
- dream. I arrived there at night to streets all covered with a mantle of
- snow. The many lights shone clear in the keen, cold, windless air and the
- sleighs drawn by sturdy little horses glided over the white snow as
- silently as if they had been moving shadows. And when morning came it was
- snowing. Softly, softly, fell the flakes and the city was a city of
- silence, white everywhere, and when the sun came out dazzling, sparkling
- white, only the cupolas of the many churches—Moscow in the heart of
- holy Russia has sixteen hundred—were golden or bright blue, or dark
- vivid green, for the snow that hid the brilliant roofs could not lie on
- their rounded surfaces. Above the cupolas are crosses, and from the
- crosses hang long chains, and ever and again on the silence rang out the
- musical clang of some deep-toned bell. But it is the silence that
- impresses. The bells were but incidental, trifling—the silence is
- eternal. The snow fell with a hush, there was no rush nor roar nor crash
- of storm, but every snowflake counted. The little sledges were half buried
- in it, the drivers in their fur-edged caps <span class="pagenum">007</span><a
- name="link007" id="link007"></a>and blue coats girt in at the waist with a
- red sash or silver embroidered band, shook it out of their eyes and out of
- their great beards and brushed it from their shoulders; in every crevice
- of the old grey walls of the Kremlin it piled up.
- </p>
- <p>
- A dream city! A city of silence!! The snow reigned, deadening all sound
- save the insistent bells that rang to the glory of God, and the cawing of
- the black and grey crows that were everywhere. What have scavenger crows
- to do in this beautiful city? They were there flying round the churches,
- darting down the spotless roads, gathering in little conclaves, raising
- their raucous voices as if in protest against the all-embracing silence.
- They were the discordant note that emphasised the harmony.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cold, was there ever such cold? The air crackled with it. It cut like a
- knife, for all its clear purity. At every street corner I passed as I
- drove to the railway station were little piles of fir logs, and little
- braziers were burning, glowing red spots of brightness where the miserable
- for a moment might warm their hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- They say one should leave Moscow in summer to cross the Siberian plain,
- because then there are the flowers—such flowers—and the green
- trees, and the sunshine, and you may see the road—the long and
- sorrowful road—along which for years the exiles have passed. I have
- heard many complaints about the weariness of the journey in winter. There
- is nothing to be seen say the grumblers. For these luckless ones I have
- the sincerest pity. They have missed something goodly. I suppose for most
- of us life, as it unfolds itself, is a disappointing thing, full of
- bitterness and—worse still—of unattainable <span
- class="pagenum">008</span><a name="link008" id="link008"></a>desires, but
- of one thing I shall always be glad, that I crossed the Siberian plain in
- the heart of winter, and saw it beneath its mantle of spotless snow.
- Possibly I may never see it in summer, but its winter beauty is something
- to be remembered to my dying day.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet it is a land of exile. Even in childhood I had read of the
- sufferings of those who have been sent there; and my conception of the
- land and the reality before my eyes as I rushed through it in an express
- train were always starting up in comparison with each other. A land of
- exile, and yet from the plains of Eastern Russia in the west to the frozen
- hills round Kharbin in the east it is a lovely land. It is a plain, of
- course—a plain thousands of miles in extent, and the vastness and
- the beauty of the snow-clad solitudes cry aloud in praise to the God Who
- made them. Overhead, far, far away, is the great arch of the deep blue
- sky, clear, bright, enticing, delightful, with no threat in its
- translucent depths such as one knows is latent in tropical lands, and
- below is the snow-clad plain, stretching far as the eye can see, bathed in
- the brilliant sunshine. From the desert and the mountains in the south it
- stretches away north to the frozen sea; and from the busy towns of the
- Baltic in the west, in close touch with modern civilisation, to the busy
- toiling millions of the East with their own civilisation that comes from a
- dateless antiquity; and in all those thousands of miles it changes its
- character but little.
- </p>
- <p>
- But first there were the Urals. I had looked upon them as mountains all my
- life; and I saw one evening only some very minor hills, deep in snow, with
- steep sides covered with a forest of fir and leafless <span class="pagenum">009</span><a
- name="link009" id="link009"></a>larch, dark against the white background;
- next morning all trace of them was gone, and we were in Asia. On the
- station platforms were men and women, Cossacks of the west, Buriats of the
- centre, Tartars of the east, Christians, Buddhists, Mohammedans; there was
- little difference in outward appearance, muffled as they were against the
- cold which was often thirty degrees below freezing-point. The men were in
- long-skirted coats, and the women in short petticoats and high boots, so
- that it would have been difficult to tell one from the other save that on
- their heads the men wore fur caps, ragged, dirty, but still fur, while the
- women muffled themselves in shawls still dirtier. Though they looked as if
- they had not given water a thought from the day they were born, I, the
- daughter of a subtropical land, could forgive them. Who could face water
- in such a biting atmosphere? I sympathised but I did not desire to go too
- close when we passengers bundled out for exercise on the station
- platforms, at least most of us did. Some preferred bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God!” said an old military man with unnecessary
- fervour. “What are the idiots getting out for. I go one no trump,
- partner. Where is my partner? The donkey 'll be slipping and hurting
- himself on those slippery steps next and then our four 'll be
- spoilt,” and he looked round for sympathy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Someone murmured something about seeing the country, but he shrivelled him
- with his scorn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seeing the country! This is the eleventh time I've been
- across and I never even look out if I can help myself. Know better. Oh,
- here you are, <span class="pagenum">010</span><a name="link010"
- id="link010"></a>partner,” slightly mollified. “I've
- gone one no trump, and there are two hearts against you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a curious thing to me that most of the passengers in that
- luxuriously equipped train, with every comfort for the asking save fresh
- air, grumbled so continuously. It seems to be the accepted thing that the
- traveller who travels luxuriously should grumble. Our old soldier
- considered himself a much-injured individual when the attendants did not
- know by instinct when he required lemon and tea and when whisky-and-soda;
- and the breaking up of a game of auction bridge because the tables were
- wanted for dinner reduced him to blackest despair. The hordes which
- through the ages have swept, conquering, westwards probably never
- complained, their lives were too strenuous, either they fought and died
- and were at peace, or they fought and conquered, and small discomforts
- were swallowed up in the joy of victory. It is left to these modern
- travellers flying eastward at a rate that would have made the old-time
- nomads think of witchcraft and sorcery to make a fuss about trifles, to
- complain of the discomforts and hardships of the long journey across the
- old world.
- </p>
- <p>
- I knew the country. In the days when I was a little girl studying my map
- with diligence I should have counted it a joy unspeakable if I had thought
- that ever I should be crossing Siberia; crossing the great rivers, the
- Obi, the Yenesei and the Angara that were then as far away and distant to
- me as the river that Christian crossed to gain high Heaven; that I should
- watch the sledges travelling in the sunlight along their hard, frozen
- surfaces, I to whom a small piece of ice on a saucer of water, which by
- <span class="pagenum">011</span><a name="link011" id="link011"></a>luck we
- might get if there happened to be an exceptionally cold night in the
- winter, was a wonder and a delight. I suppose my joy would have'
- been tempered could I have known how many years must pass over my head
- before this wonderful thing would happen, for in those days
- five-and-twenty seemed extraordinarily old, and I was very sure that at
- thirty life would not be worth living. And I have passed that terrible age
- limit and have missed most things I have set my heart upon, but still
- there are moments when life is well worth living. Strange and bitter is
- the teaching of the years—bitter but kindly, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- We passed Irkutsk where East and West meet, a great city with church
- spires and cupolas and buildings overlooking the broad and frozen Angara.
- We raced along by leafless woods, by barren stretches of spotless snow,
- and sometimes the swiftly running river was piling up the ice in great
- slabs and blocks and girding and fretting at its chains, and sometimes it
- was flowing free for a few miles, the only flowing river in all the long,
- long journey from the old Russian capital. The water was black, and dark,
- and cold, looking far colder than the ice. The duck rose, leaving long
- wakes on the water; then there was a little steam, and then a greater
- steam in the clear sunlight, but by the time we reached Lake Baikal, the
- Fortunate Sea, the Holy Sea, the frost had gripped the water again, the
- lake was a sheet of white, and the afternoon sun shone on hills snow-clad
- on the eastern side. The hills, hardly worth mentioning when one thinks of
- the great plain across which we had come, are down to the very ice edge.
- The great lake, the eighth in the world, is <span class="pagenum">012</span><a
- name="link012" id="link012"></a>but a cleft in them, and the railway track
- runs on a ledge cut out of the steep hill-side overhanging its waters,
- waters that were now smooth and white and hard as marble. Here and there
- little jetties run out; here and there were boats, useless now, close
- against them; here and there were piles of wood that would be burned up
- before the thaw. It had been Siberia for days but Baikal struck the true
- Siberian note.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here there were convicts too. Some alterations or repairs were being
- carried out on the line, and drab-coloured convicts were working at them,
- guarded by soldiers with fixed bayonets. Siberia! Siberia of the
- story-teller! On every little point of vantage stood a soldier with high
- fur cap, looking out over the men working below him, and they, splitting
- wood, digging holes in the iron-bound ground, paused in their labours and
- lifted their faces to the passing train. Did it speak to them of home and
- culture and love and happiness and freedom, or were they merely the brutal
- criminal justly punished, and the peasant, poor and simple, here because
- the Government want workers, and that he cannot pay his taxes is excuse
- enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sun was brilliant but it was cold, bitter cold, such cold as I had
- never dreamed of. Men's breath came like solid steam, and the hair
- on their faces was fringed with white hoar-frost. The earth was so hard
- frozen that they were building great fires to thaw it before working; and
- as the darkness fell the flames leapt yellow and red and blue, glowing
- spots of colour against the whiteness and the night. And with the night
- came the full moon high in the clear sky, a disc of dazzling silver. The
- Providence that <span class="pagenum">013</span><a
- name="link013_rdquo_________id_" id="link013_rdquo_________id_"></a>has
- guided my wandering footsteps surely gives sometimes with a lavish hand;
- that which I have sought earnestly with many tears is not for me, but this
- still moonlight winter's night in Siberia was mine, and all the
- world that we were rushing past was fairyland. There was in it nothing
- sordid, nothing unclean, nothing sorrowful.
- </p>
- <p>
- And it was still fairyland when I awoke in the morning to a brilliant sun
- shining upon a forest of dainty, delicate, graceful birches with every
- branch, every little twig, clothed in sparkling white, for the sunbeams
- were caught and reflected a million times on the frost flowers, and the
- whole forest was a thing of beauty and wonder that to see once is to
- remember for a lifetime. It is worth living to have seen it. I have seen
- great rivers and mountains and been awed by mighty forests, I have watched
- the thundering surf and listened to the roar of the tornado; but this was
- something quite different. Awe was not the predominant feeling, but joy—joy
- that such beauty exists, that I was alive to look upon it. Behind us lay a
- long, long trail. We in the rushing train represented the onward march of
- a mighty civilisation, but all around us in the brilliant winter sunshine
- lay the limitless plains of Siberia, and the birch forest, and the snow,
- and the frost, and the beauty that is not made with hands, that defies
- civilisation, that was before civilisation, and we were moved to raise our
- eyes with the psalmist and cry aloud: “How wonderful are thy works,
- O Lord!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But I did not appreciate the beauty of the winter or the moonlight when
- they roused me at three o'clock in the morning at Manchuria because
- my luggage <span class="pagenum">014</span><a name="link014" id="link014"></a>had
- to be examined at the Chinese Customs. The scanty lights on the station,
- the silver moon in the heaven above lit up the platform as we passengers
- of the <i>train de luxe</i> made our way to the baggage-room along a path
- between heaped-up frozen snow and ice, and the difference in temperature
- between that station platform and the carriages from which the hot air
- gushed was perhaps one hundred degrees. The reek from those carriages went
- up to heaven, but the sudden change was cruel.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our pessimistic old soldier wailed loudest. “My God! My God! this is
- unbearable!” and I wondered why, because on his way through the
- world he must have encountered worse things than bitter cold that has only
- to be borne for a few minutes. Probably that was the reason. If he had had
- something really hard to bear he would very likely have said nothing about
- it. The baggage-room was confusion, worse confounded, and nobody seemed to
- know what was being looked for, opium, or arms or both. This place is the
- Port Said of the East, and people from all corners of the earth were
- gathered round their belongings. There were groups of Chinese with women
- and children and weird bundles; there were the very latest dressing-cases
- and despatch-boxes from Bond Street and Piccadilly; there was a babel of
- tongues, Russian and French and German and English and the unknown tongues
- of Asia. China, China at last, and I was within two days of my
- destination.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when the day dawned we had left beautiful Siberia behind, and instead
- there were flat lands, deserts of stones and dry earth, with but little
- snow to veil the apparent barrenness, and hills first with <span
- class="pagenum">015</span><a name="link015" id="link015"></a>scanty trees,
- but growing more and more barren as we approached Kharbin. It looked
- desolate, cold, uninviting. The land may be rich, it is I am told, but
- when I passed there was no outward sign of that richness; the covering of
- beautiful white was gone, there was only a patch or two of snow here and
- there in the hollows, and the brilliant sunshine was like gleams of light
- on steel. At Kharbin they examined our baggage again—why I know not—and
- again it was chaos, chaos in the bitter cold with the mercury many degrees
- below freezing-point and screeching demons with a Mongolian type of
- countenance, muffled in furs and rags that seemed the cast-off clothes of
- all the nations of the earth, hauled the luggage about, pored over tickets
- and made entries in books with all the elaborate effort of the unlearned,
- and finally marked the unhappy boxes with great sprawling figures in tar
- or some such compound.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0039.jpg" alt="0039 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0039.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “Four roubles, twenty kopecks.” Why I had to pay I know not,
- that was beyond me, but I was glad to get off so lightly, for had they
- seen fit to ask me one hundred roubles, I should have been equally
- helpless. I was thankful to get out of the cold back to my warm and
- evil-smelling coupé.
- </p>
- <p>
- And at Ch'ang Ch'un I fairly felt I had crossed half the
- world, and the oldest old world greeted me with active winter. I did not
- know then, as I do now, how wonderful a thing is a snowstorm in Northern
- China. Here the snow was falling, falling. We had left behind us the great
- spaces of the earth, and come back to agriculture. Through the whirling
- snowflakes, little low-roofed houses, surrounded with walls of stone with
- little portholes for <span class="pagenum">016</span><a
- name="link016_rdquo_________id_" id="link016_rdquo_________id_"></a>guns—the
- Japanese block-houses, for Japan holds Manchuria by force of arms—alternated
- with farmhouses, with fences of high yellow millet stalks. The doors were
- marked with brilliant red paper with inscriptions in Chinese characters
- upon it—a spot of brightness amidst the prevailing white that lent
- tone and colour to the picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here it was that the Russians and the sons of Nippon had been at
- death-grips, and we who were in this train realised why the Eastern nation
- had won. At Kharbin and at Manchuria, with things managed by Chinese,
- reigned confusion. That we ever emerged with a scrap of luggage seemed to
- be more by good luck than good management. From Ch'ang Ch'un
- to Mukden the little men from the islands in the eastern sea run the
- railway, and they know what they are about; everything is in order, and
- everything marches without apparent effort. They bought this land with
- their blood, and they are holding it now with the sure grip that
- efficiency gives.
- </p>
- <p>
- At Mukden a blizzard was raging, and the old Tartar City was veiled in
- snow. When the snow went, the sunshine was bleak and bright, and
- everywhere, far as the eye could see, stretched tilled fields, bare of
- every green thing. Flatter and flatter grew the land. It was half ice and
- half earth, and the little sledges that were hitherto drawn by ponies were
- now drawn by men. Once we had left behind the Siberian fir, there was not
- a green thing to be seen all the way to Peking. The earth of the fields
- was streaked, dark brown and lighter brown; there were bare trees with
- their promise for the future; and once we were in China proper, there were
- the <span class="pagenum">017</span><a name="link017" id="link017"></a>graves—graves
- solitary, and graves in clusters—just neatly kept little heaps of
- earth piled up and pointed, something like an ant-hill. The air was clear
- and sparkling, the outlook was wide. We passed town after town, and where
- on the Siberian border the names of the stations were in Russian and
- Chinese, and so equally unintelligible, here in China they were in English
- and Chinese.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you like China?” I asked a Frenchman who sat opposite me
- at tiffin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said he frankly. “It is too English.” But he
- laughed when I said that naturally I considered that a distinct point in
- the Chinaman's favour.
- </p>
- <p>
- A wind rose, and it was as if the brown earth were literally lifted into
- the air. Everything was smothered in a dust storm. The atmosphere was
- heavy as a London fog, a fog that had been dried by some freezing process.
- The air was full of dry brown particles that shrivelled the skin, and
- parched the lips, and made me weigh in my mind the respective merits of a
- soft, moist air, and a clear and sparkling one. I had left London in a
- yellow fog that veiled the tops of the houses, and lent an air of mystery
- to the street in the near distance, I arrived at Peking in a typical North
- China dust storm. We came through the wall, the wall of the Chinese city,
- that until I had seen the Tartar wall looked grey, and grim, and stern,
- and solid, and I wondered at the curved tiled roofs, and the low houses,
- and the great bare spaces that go to make up the city.
- </p>
- <p>
- The East at last, the Far East! All across the old world I had come; and
- here on a bitter cold February afternoon, with a wild wind blowing, the
- train drew up outside the Tartar wall, the wall that <span class="pagenum">018</span><a
- name="link018" id="link018"></a>Kublai Khan and the Ming Emperors built in
- the capital city of the civilisation that was old when the Roman legions
- planted their eagles in the marshes of the Thames. I had reached China,
- the land of blue skies and of sunshine; the land of desperate poverty and
- of wonderful wealth; the land of triumph, and of martyrdom, and of
- mystery. What was it going to hold for me?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II—A CITY OF THE AGES
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">019</span><a name="link019" id="link019"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Chien Men Railway Station—Driver Chow—“Urgent speed
- in high disdain”—Peking dust storm—Joys of a bath—The
- glories of Peking—The Imperial City—The Forbidden City—Memorial
- arches—The observatory—The little Tartar princess—Life
- in the streets—Street stalls—A mercenary marriage—Courtly
- gentlemen.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> looked out of the
- carriage window as the train ran through the Chinese city on its way to
- the Chien Men railway station, and wondered what the future was going to
- be like, and I wondered aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How will I get on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Opposite me sat an amusing young gentleman with a ready tongue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh you'll be all right,” said he. “The Chinese
- 'll like you because you're fat and o——” and
- then he checked himself seeing, I suppose, the dawning wrath in my eyes.
- The Chinese admire fat people and they respect the old, but I had not been
- accustomed to looking upon myself as old yet, though I had certainly seen
- more years than he had, and as for fat—well I had fondly hoped my
- friends looked upon it as a pleasing plumpness. With these chastening
- remarks sinking into my soul, we rolled into the railway station.
- </p>
- <p>
- The railways in China, with a few exceptions, have been built by the
- English or French—mostly <span class="pagenum">020</span><a
- name="link020" id="link020"></a>by the English—and are managed to a
- great extent on European lines, so that arriving at the railway station in
- Peking does not differ very much from arriving at any other great
- terminus, save for the absence of cabs; but I imagine there must be
- differences, and that those who run the lines have little difficulties to
- contend with that would not occur on the London and North Western for
- example.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Sir,”—wrote a stationmaster once to the locomotive
- superintendent—“I have, with many tears, to call your
- attention to your driver, Chow, who holds urgent speed in high disdain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The locomotive superintendent, without any tears, investigated the charge
- against this driver, Chow. The line was worked on the staff system. No
- driver could leave a station without giving up the staff he had brought
- in, and receiving the corresponding one for the next stretch of line. The
- staff—to follow the directions—is to be handed to the driver
- by the stationmaster, but the stationmaster on this, and I expect on many
- other occasions, for the Chinese are past-masters in the art of delegating
- work to someone else, had handed the staff to a coolie and gone about his
- pleasure. Now Chow evidently had a grudge against him, for, I fear me, no
- one believed in his altruism. He insisted on the strict letter of the law
- and declined to take the staff until it was handed to him by the important
- man himself, and he kept the whole train waiting, while that worthy was
- searched for, and hauled out of the particular gambling-house he most
- affected. When the gentleman appeared, furious and angry, on the platform,
- Chow calmly lifted up his staff to effect <span class="pagenum">021</span><a
- name="link021" id="link021"></a>an exchange, and he swore on investigation
- he had forgotten that the end the stationmaster received had been reposing
- for all the long wait upon the nearly red-hot boiler! That the
- stationmaster burnt his fingers is a mild statement of the case.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a wild wind blowing when I stepped out of the train and looked
- around me at the frowning walls, at least I looked as much as I could, for
- the day was bitterly cold, and most of the ground was in the air. A London
- fog was nothing to it, that is soft and still and filthy, this was hard
- and gritty, moving fast and equally filthy, and every one of the
- passengers was desperately anxious to exchange the bleak railway station
- for the warmth and comfort and cleanliness to be found between four walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was just as anxious as anybody else, but by the time I had collected my
- luggage the awful facts were borne in on me that all the people with whom
- I had made friends on the way across, were rapidly departing, and that
- there was no one to meet me. Peking was wonderful, I knew it was
- wonderful; there were such walls as I had never even dreamt of, towering
- above me, but I was not able to rise above the fact that I was in a
- strange city, among quaint-looking people who spoke an unknown tongue, and
- that I did not know where to go. And the Morrisons' invitation had
- been most cordial. I had rejected all offers of help, because I was so
- sure someone from their house would be there to meet me, now I seized the
- last remaining passenger who could speak a little Chinese, and, with his
- help, got a hand-cart for my gear, drawn by two ragged men, and a rickshaw
- for myself—this man haulage, this <span class="pagenum">022</span><a
- name="link022" id="link022"></a>cheapness of human labour, made me realise
- more quickly than anything else could have done, that I had really arrived
- in the Eastern world—and after a little debate with myself I started
- for Dr Morrison's. I had been asked to stay there, and I felt it
- would be rude to go to the hotel, but as we drove through the streets I
- thought—as much as the dust, the filthy dust—that the violent
- gusts of wind were blowing in my face would allow—not of the wonders
- of this new world upon which I was entering, but of how I should announce
- myself to these people who apparently were not expecting me. I had such a
- lot of luggage too!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0049.jpg" alt="0049 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0049.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- At last the coolies stopped opposite a door guarded by two stone lions,
- and as I got out of my rickshaw, entered the porch, and stood outside a
- little green wicket gate, the doorkeeper stepped out of his room and
- looked at me. He was clad all in blue cotton and he had an impassive face
- and just enough English for a doorkeeper.
- </p>
- <p>
- No, Missie was not at home, he announced calmly. “Master?” I
- asked frantically, but he shook his head, Master was out too. Here was a
- dilemma. I would have gone straight to the hotel I had discovered Peking
- boasted, but I feared they might think it rude. I made him understand I
- would come in and wait a little, and my luggage, my dilapidated luggage,
- for Kharbin and Manchuria had been hard on it, was carried into the
- courtyard of the first Chinese house I had ever seen. But I wasn't
- thinking of sight-seeing then; I was wondering what I should do. I
- questioned the No. 1 boy, as I subsequently found he was, a pleasant-faced
- little man in a long blue coat or dress, whichever <span class="pagenum">023</span><a
- name="link023" id="link023"></a>you please to call it, and a little round
- silk cap suppressing his somewhat wild hair. I learned afterwards that
- some students, enthusiastic for the new regime, had caught him the day
- before and shorn off his queue with no skilful hands. It was his opinion
- that Missie was not expecting a guest, but he suggested I should come
- inside and have-some tea. The thought of tea was distinctly comforting,
- and so was his attitude. It suggested that unexpected guests were
- evidently received with hospitality, and dirty as I felt myself to be, I
- went in and sat down to a meal of tea and cakes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I makee room ready chop chop,” announced the boy, and I drank
- tea and ate cakes, wondering whether I ought not to stop him, and say he
- had better wait till his mistress came home. And I felt so horribly dirty,
- too. Then there came in a lady who also looked at me with surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had come to tea with Mrs Morrison, and she was quite sure Mrs Morrison
- was expecting no guest. This was awful. I became so desperate that nothing
- seemed to matter, and I went on eating cake and drinking tea till
- presently the No. 1 boy came in again, and calmly announced:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Barf ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And I had just been told that my hostess did not expect me!
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked at the lady sitting opposite me, I looked at the boy, and I
- considered my very dirty and dishevelled self. I had not even seen a bath
- since I left Moscow. I had come through the Peking streets in a Peking
- dust storm, and I felt a bath was a temptation not to be resisted,
- wherever that bath was offered; so I arose and followed the boy, and <span
- class="pagenum">024</span><a name="link024" id="link024"></a>presently Mrs
- Morrison, coming into her own courtyard, was confronted by a heap of
- strange luggage, and a boy standing over it with a feather duster, no mere
- feather duster could have coped with the dirt upon it, but a Chinese
- servant would attack a hornet's nest with one; it is his badge of
- office. He looked up at her and remarked, in that friendly and
- conversational manner with which the Chinese servant makes the wheels of
- life go smoothly for his Missie when he has her alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One piecey gentleman in barf!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She came and knocked at the bedroom door when I was doing my hair and
- feeling much more able to face the world, and made me most cordially
- welcome, and, when I was fully dressed and back in the drawing-room, Dr
- Morrison appeared, and said he was glad to see me, and no one mentioned
- that my arrival had been unexpected, till a week later, when the letter I
- had written saying by what train I was coming, turned up.
- </p>
- <p>
- I stayed with Dr Morrison and his pretty young wife for close on a
- fortnight, and they gave me most kindly hospitality, and not only did I
- view the wonders of Peking, make some acquaintances and friends, but saw
- just a little of the peculiarities of Chinese servants. They are good,
- there is no gainsaying it, but sometimes they did surprise me. Dr Morrison
- has a secretary, young and slim and clever, who in the early days of our
- acquaintanceship was wont very kindly to come over and help me in the
- important matter of fastening up dresses at the back. One evening, being
- greatly in need of her assistance, I sent across the courtyard to her, and
- the startled young lady was calmly informed by <span class="pagenum">025</span><a
- name="link025" id="link025"></a>a bland and smiling boy as if it were the
- most natural thing in the world:
- </p>
- <p>
- “One piecey gentleman wanchee in he's bedroom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At first I don't think I appreciated Peking. It left me cold, and my
- heart sank, for I had come to write about it, to gain material perhaps for
- a novel, and this most certainly is a truth, you cannot write well about a
- place unless you either love or hate it. Still, I have always had a great
- distaste for dashing through a country like an American tourist, and so I
- settled down at the Wagons Lits Hotel, surely the most cosmopolitan hotel
- in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then by slow degrees my eyes were opened, and I saw. Blind, blind, how
- could I have been so blind? It makes me troubled. Have other good things
- been offered me in life? And have I turned away and missed them? The
- wonder of what I have seen in Peking never palls, it grows upon me daily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walk about Zion and go round about her... consider her palaces that
- ye may tell it to the generation following.” So chanted the
- psalmist, not so much, perhaps, for the sake of future generations, but
- because her beauty and charm so filled his soul that his lips were forced
- to song. “Tell the towers thereof, mark ye well her bulwarks.”
- Far back in the ages, a nation great and civilised on the eastern edge of
- the plain that stretches half across the world, builded themselves a
- mighty city. Peking first came into being when we Western nations, who
- pride ourselves upon our intense civilisation, were but naked savages,
- hunters and nomads, and she, spoiled and sacked and looted, <span
- class="pagenum">026</span><a name="link026_rdquo_________id_"
- id="link026_rdquo_________id_"></a>taking fresh masters, and absorbing
- them, Chinese and Tartar, Ming and Manchu, has endured even unto the
- present day. To-day, the spirit of the West is breathing over her and she
- responds a little, ever so little, and murmurs of change, yet she remains
- the same at heart as she has been through the ages. How should she change?
- She is wedded to her past, she can no more be divorced from it than can
- the morning from the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is something wonderful and antique about any walled city, but a
- walled city like Peking stands alone. The very modern railway comes into
- the Chinese City through an archway in the wall, and the railway station,
- the hideous modern railway station, lies just outside the great wall of
- the Tartar City. There are three cities in Peking, indeed for the last few
- years there have been four—four distinct cities. There is the
- Imperial City, enclosed in seven miles of pinkish red wall, close on
- twenty feet high, and in the Imperial City, the very heart of it, behind
- more pinkish red walls, is the Forbidden City, where dwell the remnant of
- the Manchu Dynasty, the baby emperor and his guardians, the women, the
- eunuchs, the attendants that make up such a gathering as waited in bygone
- days on Darius, King of the Medes, or Ahasuerus, King of Babylon. Here
- there are spacious courtyards and ancient temples and palaces, and
- audience halls with yellowish-brown tiled roofs, extensive lakes, where
- multitudes of wild duck, flying north for the summer, or south for the
- winter, find a resting-place, watch-towers and walls, and tunnelled
- gateways through those walls. When through the ages the greatest artists
- of a nation have been giving their minds to <span class="pagenum">027</span><a
- name="link027" id="link027"></a>the beautifying of a city, the things of
- beauty in that city are so numerous that it seems impossible for one mind
- to grasp them, to realise the wonder and the charm, especially when that
- charm is exotic and evasive.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Imperial City, all round the Forbidden City, consists of a network of
- narrow streets and alleys lined with low buildings with windows of
- delicate lattice-work, and curved tiled roofs. Here, hidden away in silent
- peaceful courtyards shaded by gnarled old trees, are temples guarded by
- shaven priests in faded red robes. Their hangings are torn and faded, the
- dust lies on their altars, and the scent of the incense is stale in their
- courts, for the gods are dead; and yet because the dead are never
- forgotten in China—China that clings to her past—they linger
- on. Here are shops, low one-storied shops, with fronts richly carved and
- gilded, streets deep in mud or dust, narrow alley-ways and high walls with
- mysterious little doors in them leading into secluded houses, and all the
- clatter and clamour of a Chinese city, laden donkeys, mules and horses,
- rickshaws from Japan, glass broughams weirdly reflecting the glory of
- modern London, and blue, tilted Peking carts with studded wheels, <span
- class="pagenum">028</span><a name="link028" id="link028"></a>such as have
- been part and parcel of the Imperial City for thousands of years, all the
- life of the city much as it is outside the pinkish red walls, only here
- and there are carved pillars and broad causeways that, if the stones could
- speak, might tell a tale of human woe and Human weariness, of joy and
- magnificence, that would surpass any told of any city in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- And outside the Imperial City, hemming it in, in a great square fourteen
- miles round, is the Tartar City with splendid walls. Outside that again,
- forming a sort of suburb, lies to the south the Chinese City with thirteen
- miles of wall enclosing not only its teeming population, but the great
- open spaces and parks of the Temple of Heaven and the Temple of
- Agriculture. But though the Tartar City and the Chinese City are distinct
- divisions of Peking, walled off from each other, all difference between
- the people has long ago disappeared. The Tartars conquered the Chinese,
- and the Chinese, patient, industrious, persistent, drew the Tartars to
- themselves. But still the walls that divided them endure.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Tartar City is crossed by broad highways cutting each other at right
- angles, three run north and south, and three run east and west, they are
- broad and are usually divided into three parts, the centre part being a
- good, hard, well-tended roadway, while on either side the soil is loose,
- and since the streets are thronged, the side ways are churned up in the
- summer into a slough that requires some daring to cross, and in the winter—the
- dry, cold rainless winter, the soil is ground into a powdery dust that the
- faintest breeze raises into the air, and many of the breezes of Northern
- China are by no means faint. The authorities try to grapple with the evil—at
- regular intervals are stationed a couple of men with a pail of muddy
- water, which with a basket-work scoop they distribute lavishly in order to
- try and keep down the rising dust. But the dust of Peking is a problem
- beyond a mere pail and scoop. This spattering of water has about as much
- effect upon it as a thimbleful of water flung on a raging fiery furnace.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0057.jpg" alt="0057 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0057.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Still, in spite of the mud and the dust, the streets <span class="pagenum">029</span><a
- name="link029" id="link029"></a>are not without charm. They are lined with
- trees; indeed I think no city of its size was ever better planted. When
- once one has realised how treeless is the greater part of China, this is
- rather surprising. For look which way you will from the wall in the summer
- and autumn, you feel you might be looking down upon a wood instead of a
- city; the roofs of the single-storied houses are hidden by the greenery,
- and only here and there peeps out the tiled roof of a temple or hall of
- audience with the eaves curving upwards, things of beauty against the
- background of green branches. Curiously enough it is only from the walls
- that Peking has this aspect. Once in the network of alley-ways it seems as
- if a wilderness of houses and shops were crowding one on top of the other,
- as if humanity were crushing out every sign of green life. This is because
- there is to all things Chinese two sides. There is the life of the
- streets, mud-begrimed, dusty, seething with humanity, odoriferous, ragged,
- dirty, patient, hardworking; and there is a hidden life shut away in those
- networks of narrow alley-ways.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is many a gateway between two gilded shop fronts, some black Chinese
- characters on a red background set out the owner's name and titles,
- and, passing through, you are straightway admitted into courtyard after
- courtyard, some planted with trees, some with flowering plants in pots—because
- of the cruel winter all Chinese gardens in the north here are in pots,
- sometimes with fruit-trees thick with blossom or heavy with fruit, and in
- the paved courtyards, secluded, retired as a convent, you find the various
- apartments of a well-arranged Chinese house; there are shady verandas, and
- dainty lattice-work <span class="pagenum">030</span><a
- name="link030_rdquo_________id_" id="link030_rdquo_________id_"></a>windows
- looking out upon miniature landscapes with little hills and streams and
- graceful bridges crossing the streams. But only a favoured few may see
- these oases. For the majority Peking must be the wide-open boulevards and
- narrow hu t'ungs, fronted by low and highly ornamental houses, and
- shops so close together that there is no more room for a garden or growing
- green life than there is in Piccadilly. True there are trees in these
- boulevards, in Morrison Street, in Ha Ta Men Street, in the street of
- Eternal Repose that cuts them at right angles, but they would be but small
- things in the mass of buildings were it not for the courtyards of the
- private houses and temples that are hidden behind.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are, too, in the streets p'ia lous or memorial arches,
- generally of three archways with tiled roofs of blue or green or yellow
- rising in tiers one above the other, put up in memory of some deed the
- Chinese delight to honour. And what the Chinese think worthy of honour,
- and what the Westerner delights to honour are generally as far apart, I
- find, as the Poles. In Ha Ta Men Street, however, there is a p'ia
- lou all of white marble, put up by the last Manchu Emperor in memory of
- gallant Baron von Kettler, done to death in the Boxer rising, but there, I
- am afraid, Chinese appreciation was quickened by European force.
- </p>
- <p>
- We are apt to think that European influence in China is quite a thing of
- yesterday, that Baron von Kettler was the first man of note who perished
- in the inevitable conflict, and yet, when I looked at the eastern wall of
- the city, I was reminded, with a start, that European influence dates long
- before <span class="pagenum">031</span><a name="link031" id="link031"></a>the
- Boxer time, long before the days of the Honourable East India Company, and
- many must have been the martyrs. There on the eastern wall stands the
- observatory, and clear-cut against the bright blue sky are astronomical
- instruments with dragons and strange beasts upon them. They were placed
- there by the Jesuits in the middle of the seventeenth century, and I know
- that those priests could not have attained so much influence without a
- bitter baptism of blood. They stand out as landmarks, those orbs and
- astrolabes, up and down the wall, even as they have come down through the
- centuries; monuments, as enduring as any Chinese p'ia lou, of faith
- and suffering; but the Jesuits were not the first to place astronomical
- instruments there. The Chinese were not barbarians by any means, though by
- some curious freak we Westerners have passed them in the race for
- civilisation, and, as long ago as the days of Kublai Khan, they had an
- observatory here by the wall. On the ground below, in a tree-shaded
- courtyard, there is an astrolabe with a beautiful bronze dragon for a
- stand, the dust-laden air of Peking has polished and preserved it, so that
- I can see but little difference between it and the newer instruments on
- the platform above—newer and yet two hundred and fifty years old.
- </p>
- <p>
- And beyond the observatory in the north-east corner of the city is the
- Lama Temple, a temple with picturesque, yellowish-brown tiled roofs and
- spacious courtyards, in which are quaint old gnarled trees, and building
- after building in that curious state that is part beautiful, part slovenly
- decay, ruled over by hundreds of shaven, yellow-robed monks among whom,
- they say, it is not safe for a <span class="pagenum">032</span><a
- name="link032" id="link032"></a>woman to go by herself. There is the
- Temple of Confucius, with surely the most peaceful courtyard in the world,
- and there are other temples, temples with courtyards and weird, twisted
- coniferous trees in them that are hundreds of years old, pagodas, and
- bells, and towers, and to each and all is attached many a story.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0063.jpg" alt="0063 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0063.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Overlooking the great causeway that runs along in front of the Forbidden
- City, west past the south main gate, are two towers, one to the north in
- the Forbidden City, and one to the south without its walls; and of these
- two towers they tell a story of tenderness and longing. Hundreds of years
- ago, when the Tartars were first subject to the Ming Emperors, part of
- their tribute had to be one of their fairest princesses, who became a
- member of the Emperor's harem.
- </p>
- <p>
- The poor little girl's inclinations were not considered, not even
- now is the desire of a woman considered in China, and the little Tartar
- girl was bound to suffer for her people. She might or might not please the
- Emperor, but whether she did or not the position of one who might share
- the Emperor's bed was so high that she might never again hold
- communion with her own kin. And then there came one little Tartar
- princess, who, finding favour with her lord, summoned courage to tell him
- of her love and longing. But there are some rules that not even the mighty
- Emperor of China may abrogate, and he could not permit her ever again to
- mingle with the common herd. One thing only could he do, and that he did.
- He built the northern tower looking over the causeway, and the southern
- tower on the other side. On the one tower the poor “lest we forget.”
- <span class="pagenum">033</span><a name="link033" id="link033"></a>little
- secondary wife, lonely and weighted by her high estate, might stand so
- that she could see her people on the other, and, though they were too far
- apart for caress or spoken word, at least they could see each other and
- know that all was well.
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not know whether many of the people who throng the streets from
- morning to night, and long after night has fallen, ever give a thought to
- the little Tartar princess. The shops, most of them open to the streets,
- are full, and on two sides of the main roadways are set up little stalls
- for the sale of trifles. Curiously enough, and I suppose it denotes
- poverty and lack of home life, about half these stalls are given up to the
- cooking and selling of eatables. In Ha Ta Men Street, in Morrison Street,
- in the street of Eternal Repose, that is as if we should say in
- Piccadilly, in Regent Street, and the Hay-market, and just outside the
- gates in the Chinese City, on the path that runs between the canal and the
- Tartar wall, you may see these same little stalls.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here is a man who sells tea, keeping his samovar boiling with shovelfuls
- of little round hard nodules, coal dust made up with damp clay into balls;
- here is another with a small frying-pan in which he is baking great slabs
- of wheaten flour cakes, and selling them hot out of the pan; here is
- another with an earthenware dish full of an appetising-looking stew of
- meat and vegetables, with a hard-boiled egg or two floating on top;
- another man has big yellow slabs of cake with great plums in them, another
- has sticks of apples and all manner of fruits and vegetables done into
- sweetmeats. And here as it is cooked, alfresco, do the people, the men,
- for women are seldom seen at the stalls, come and buy, and <span
- class="pagenum">034</span><a name="link034" id="link034"></a>eat, without
- other equipment than a basin, a pair of chop sticks or a bone spoon like a
- ladle supplied by the vendor.
- </p>
- <p>
- They sell, and make, and mend Chinese footgear at these stalls too; there
- is a fortune-teller, one who will read your future with a chart covered
- with hieroglyphics spread out on the bare ground; there is the
- letter-writer for the unlearned; there are primitive little gaming-tables;
- and there are cheap, very cheap cigarettes and tobacco of brands unknown
- in America or Egypt.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have said there is a lack of home life, and thought, like the arrogant
- Westerner I am, that the Chinese do not appreciate it, but only the other
- day I heard a little story that made me think that the son of Han, like
- everyone else, longs for a home and someone in it he can call his very
- own.
- </p>
- <p>
- One day a missionary teacher heard an outcry behind her, and turning, saw
- a blind woman, unkempt and filthy and whining pitifully. “Oh who
- will help me? Who will help me?” she cried, shrinking away from the
- dog that was making dashes at the basket she carried for doles.
- </p>
- <p>
- The missionary called off her dog, and reassured the woman. The dog would
- not hurt her. He was only interested in the food in her basket. “Then,”
- said she, “I went on, because I was in a hurry, but as I went I
- thought how horrible the woman looked, and that I ought to go back and
- tell her, 'God is Love.'”
- </p>
- <p>
- So the missionary stopped and talked religion to that blind beggar, and
- told her to come up to the Mission Station. She looked after her soul, but
- also, out of the kindness of her heart, she looked <span class="pagenum">035</span><a
- name="link035" id="link035"></a>after her body, and when the beggar was
- established, a woman of means with a whole dollar—two shillings—a
- week, she realised that God was indeed Love, and became a fervent
- Christian.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Clean,” I asked, being of an inquiring turn of mind, and her
- saviour laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps you wouldn't call her clean, but it is a vast
- improvement on what she was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman wasn't young, as Chinese count youth in a woman, she wasn't
- good-looking, she wasn't in any way attractive, but she was a woman
- of means, and presently her guardian was embarrassed by an offer from a
- man of dim sight, for the hand and heart of her protégée. The missionary
- was horrified. The woman was married already. The would-be bridegroom, the
- prospective bride, and all their friends smiled, and seemed to think that
- since her last alliance wasn't a real marriage it should be no bar.
- Still the lady was firm, the woman had lived with the man for some years
- and it was a marriage in her humble opinion. So the disappointed
- candidates for matrimony went their way. However, a few weeks later the
- woman came to her guardian with a face wreathed in smiles, “that
- thing,” she said, she didn't even call him a man, that thing
- was dead, had died the day before, and there was now no reason why she
- should not marry again! There was no reason, and within ten days the
- nuptials were celebrated, and the blind woman went to live with her new
- husband.
- </p>
- <p>
- I asked was it a success and the missionary smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, it is certainly a success, only her husband complains she eats
- too much.” <span class="pagenum">036</span><a name="link036"
- id="link036"></a>I said there were always drawbacks when a man married for
- money!
- </p>
- <p>
- But as a matter of fact the marriage was a great success. I saw the happy
- couple afterwards, and the woman looked well-cared for and neat, and her
- husband helped her up some steps quite as carefully as any man of the West
- might have done. Truly the Fates were kind to the blind beggar when they
- put her in the way of that missionary. She is far, far happier probably
- than the bride of a higher class who goes to a new home, and,
- henceforward, as long as the older woman lives, is but a servant to her
- mother-in-law. True the husband had complained his new wife ate too much.
- But Chinese etiquette does not seem to think it at all the correct thing
- to praise anything that belongs to one. And for a husband to show
- affection for his wife, whatever he may feel, is a most extraordinary
- thing. The other day a woman was working in the courtyard of a house when
- there came in her husband who had been away for close on six months. Did
- they rush at one another as Westerners would have done? Not at all. He
- crossed the courtyard to announce himself to his master, and she went on
- with her work. Each carefully refrained from looking at the other, because
- had they looked people might have thought they cared for each other. And
- it is in the highest degree indelicate for a husband or wife to express
- affection for each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0070.jpg" alt="0070 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0070.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- In truth, once my eyes were opened, I soon grew to think that, from the
- point of view of the sightseer, there are few places in the world to
- compare with Peking, and the greatest interest lies in the people—the
- crowded humanity of the streets. Of course <span class="pagenum">037</span><a
- name="link037" id="link037"></a>I have seen crowded humanity—after
- London how can any busy city present any novelty—and yet, here in
- Peking, a new note is struck. Not all at once did I realise it; my mind
- went groping round asking, what is the difference between these people and
- those one sees in the streets of London or Paris? They are a different
- type, but that is nothing, it is only skin deep. What is it then? One
- thing cannot but strike the new-comer, and that is that they are a
- peaceable and orderly crowd, more amenable to discipline, or rather they
- discipline themselves better, than any crowd in the world. Not but that
- there are police. At every few yards the police of the New Republic, in
- dusty black bound with yellow in the winter, and in khaki in the summer,
- with swords strapped to their waists, direct a traffic that is perfectly
- capable of directing itself; and at night, armed with rifles, mounted
- bands of them patrol the streets, the most law-abiding streets apparently
- in the world. In spite of the swarms of tourists, who are more and more
- pouring into Peking, a foreigner is still a thing to be wondered at, to be
- followed and stared at; but there is no rudeness, no jostling. He has only
- to put out his hand to intimate to the following crowd that he wishes a
- little more space, that their company is a little too odoriferous, and
- they fall back at once, only to press forward again the next moment. Was
- ever there such a kindly, friendly nation? And yet—and yet—What
- is it I find wrong? They are a highly civilised people, from the President
- who reigns like a dictator, to the humble rickshaw coolie, who guards my
- dress from the filth of the street. He will hawk, and spit, but he is as
- <span class="pagenum">038</span><a name="link038" id="link038"></a>courtly
- a gentleman as one of the bucks of the Prince Regent's Court, who
- probably did much the same thing. It dawned upon me slowly. These people
- have achieved that refinement we of the West have been striving for and
- have not attained as yet. It is well surely to make perfection an aim in
- life, and yet I feel something has gone from these people in the process
- of refining. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred they can be trusted to
- keep order, and the hundredth probably not all the police in the capital
- could hold them. The very rickshaw coolies, when they fall out, trust to
- the sweet reasonableness of argument, even though that argument Waste
- interminable hours. A European, an Englishman or an American probably,
- comes hectoring down the street—no other word describes his
- attitude, when it is contrasted with that of the courteous Orientals round
- him. On the smallest provocation, far too small a provocation, he
- threatens to kick this coolie, he swings that one out of the way and,
- instead of being shocked, I am distinctly relieved. Here is an exhibition
- of force, restrained force, that is welcome as a rude breeze, fresh from
- the sea or the mountains, is welcome in a heated, scented room. These
- people, even the poorer people of the streets, are suffering from
- over-civilisation, from over-refinement. They need a touch of the
- primitive savage to make the red blood run in their veins. Not but that
- they can be savage, so savage on occasion, the hundredth occasion when no
- police could hold them, that their cruelty is such that there is not a man
- who knows them who would not keep the last cartridge in his revolver to
- save himself from the refinement of their tender mercies. <span
- class="pagenum">039</span><a name="link039" id="link039"></a>But I did not
- make this reflection the first, or even the tenth time, I walked in the
- streets. It was a thing that grew upon me gradually. By the time I found I
- was making comparisons, the comparisons were already made and my opinions
- were formed. I looked at these strange men and women, especially at the
- small-footed women, and wondered what effect the condemning of fifty per
- cent of the population to years of torture had had upon the mental growth
- of this nation, and I raised my eyes to the mighty walls that surrounded
- the city, and knew that the nation had done wonderful things.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III—THE WALLS AND GATES OF BABYLON
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">040</span><a name="link040" id="link040"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The mud walls of Kublai Khan—Only place for a comfortable
- promenade—The gardens on the walls—Guarding the city from
- devils—The dirt of the Chinese—The gates—The camels—In
- the Chien Men—The patient Chinese women—The joys of living in
- a walled city—A change in Chinese feeling.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>re they like the
- walls and gates of Babylon, I wonder, these walls and gates of the capital
- city of China. I thought so when first I saw them, and the thought remains
- with me still. Behind such walls as these surely sat Ahasuerus, King of
- Babylon; behind such walls as these dwelt the thousands of serfs who
- toiled, and suffered, and died, that he might be a mighty king. They are
- magnificent, a wonder of the world, and it seemed to me that the men of
- the nation who built them must glory in them. But all do not. I sat one
- day at tiffin at a friend's house, and opposite me sat a Chinese
- doctor, a graduate of Cambridge, who spoke English with the leisurely
- accent of the cultivated Englishman, and he spoke of these mighty walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I had my way,” said he, “they should be levelled
- with the ground. I would not leave one stone upon another.” And I
- wondered why. They shut out the fresh air, he said, but I wondered, in my
- own mind, whether he did not feel that they <span class="pagenum">041</span><a
- name="link041_rdquo_________id_" id="link041_rdquo_________id_"></a>hemmed
- the people in, caged and held them as it were, in an archaic state of
- civilisation, that it is best should pass away. They can shut out so
- little air, and they can only cage and hold those who desire to be so
- held.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kublai Khan outlined the greater part of them in mud in the thirteenth
- century, and then, two hundred years after, came the Ming conquerors who
- faced the great Tartar's walls with grey Chinese brick, curtailing
- them a little to the north, and as the Mings left them, so are they to-day
- when the foreign nations from the West, and that other Asiatic nation from
- the East, have built their Legations—pledges of peace—beneath
- them and, armed to the teeth, hold, against the Chinese, the Legation
- Quarter and a mile of their own wall.
- </p>
- <p>
- Over fifty feet high are these Tartar walls, at their base they are sixty
- feet through, at their top they are between forty and fifty feet across,
- more than a hundred if you measure their breadth at the great buttresses,
- and they are paved with the grey Chinese bricks that face their sides. As
- in most Chinese cities, the top of the wall is the only place where a
- comfortable promenade can be had, and the mile-long strip between the
- Chien Men, the main gate, and the Ha Ta Men, the south-eastern gate—the
- strip held by the Legations—is well kept; that is to say, a broad
- pathway, along which people can walk, is kept smooth and neat and free
- from the vegetation that flourishes on most of the wall top. This
- vegetation adds greatly to its charm. The mud of the walls is the rich
- alluvial deposit of the great plain on which Peking stands, and when it
- has been well watered by the summer rains, a <span class="pagenum">042</span><a
- name="link042" id="link042"></a>luxuriant green growth, a regular jungle,
- forces its way up through the brick pavement. The top of the wall upon a
- cool autumn day, before the finger of decay has touched this growth, is a
- truly delightful garden.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0078.jpg" alt="0078 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0078.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- It was my great pleasure to walk there, for there were all manner of
- flowering green shrubs and tall grasses, bound together by blooming
- morning glory, its cup-shaped flowers blue, and pink, and white, and white
- streaked with pink; there were even small trees, white poplar and the
- ailanthus, or tree of heaven, throwing out shady branches that afforded
- shelter from the rays of the brilliant sun. They are not adequate shelter,
- though, in a rainstorm. Indeed it is very awkward to be caught in a
- rainstorm upon the walls out of the range of the rickshaws, as I was more
- than once, for in the hot weather I could never resist the walls, the only
- place in Peking where a breath of fresh air is to be found, and, since it
- is generally hottest before the rain, on several occasions I was caught,
- returning drenched and dripping. It did not matter as a rule, but once
- when I was there with a companion a more than ordinary storm caught us. We
- sheltered under an ailanthus tree, and as the wind was strong, umbrellas
- were useless. My companion began to get agitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If this goes on,” said he, “I shan't be able to
- go out to-morrow. I have only one coat.” He had come up from
- Tientsin for a couple of days. But for me the case was much more serious.
- I had on a thin white muslin that began to cling round my figure, and I
- thought anxiously that if it went on much longer I should not be able to
- go into the <span class="pagenum">043</span><a name="link043" id="link043"></a>hotel
- that day! However, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, the sun
- came out in all his fierceness, and before we reached the hotel I was most
- unbecomingly rough dried.
- </p>
- <p>
- Things are ordered on the Legation wall, the pathway between the greenery
- runs straight as a die, but beyond, on the thirteen miles of wall under
- Chinese care, the greenery runs riot, and only a narrow pathway meanders
- between the shrubs and grass, just as a man may walk carelessly from
- station to station; and sometimes hidden among the greenery, sometimes
- standing out against it, are here and there great upright slabs of stone,
- always in pairs, relics of the old fortifications, for surely these are
- all that remain of the catapults with which of old the Chinese and Tartars
- defended their mighty city.
- </p>
- <p>
- The walls stand square, north and south, and east and west, only at the
- north-west corner does the line slant out of the square a little, for
- every Chinese knows that is the only sure way to keep devils out of a
- city, and certainly the capital must be so guarded. Whatever I saw and
- wondered at, I always came back to the walls, the most wonderful sight of
- a most wonderful city, and I always found something new to entrance me.
- The watch-towers, the ramps, the gates, the suggestion of old-world story
- that met me at every turn. In days not so very long ago these walls were
- kept by the Manchu bannermen, whose special duty it was to guard them, and
- no other person was allowed upon them, under pain of death, for exactly
- the same reason that all the houses in the city are of one story: it was
- not seemly that any mere commoner should <span class="pagenum">044</span><a
- name="link044" id="link044"></a>be able to look down upon the Emperor, and
- no women, even the women of the bannermen, were allowed to set foot there,
- for it appeared that the God of War, who naturally took an interest in
- these defences, objected to women.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now little companies of soldiers take the place of those old-world
- bannermen. They look out at the life of the city, at their fellows
- drilling on the great plain beyond, at the muddy canal, that is like a
- river, making its way across the khaki-coloured plain, that in the summer
- is one vast crop of kaoliang—one vivid note of green. Wonderful
- fertility you may see from the walls of the Chinese capital. Looking one
- feels that the rush of the nations to finance the country is more than
- justified. Surely here is the truest of wealth. But the soldiers on the
- walls are children. China does not think much of her soldiers, and the
- language is full of proverbs about them the reverse of complimentary.
- “Good iron is not used for nails,” is one of them, “and
- good men do not become soldiers.” How true that may be I do not
- know, but these men seemed good enough, only just the babies a
- fellow-countryman talking of them to me once called them. They know little
- of their own country, less than nothing of any other. I feel they should
- not be dressed in shabby khaki like travesties of the men of Western
- armies, tunics and sandals and bows and arrows would be so much more in
- keeping with their surroundings. And yet so small are they, like ants at
- the foot of an oak, that their garb scarcely matters, they but emphasise
- the vastness of the walls on which they stand; walls builded probably by
- men differing but little from these soldiers of New China. <span
- class="pagenum">045</span><a name="link045_rdquo_________id_"
- id="link045_rdquo_________id_"></a>I photographed a little company one
- bright day in the early spring—it is hardly necessary to say it was
- bright, because all days at that season, and indeed at most seasons, are
- brilliantly, translucently bright. My little company dwelt in a low
- building made up apparently of lattice-work and paper close to the
- observatory, and evidently word went round that the wonderful thing had
- been done, and, for all the charm of the walls, it was not a thing that
- was often done. I suppose the average tourist does not care to waste his
- plates on commonplace little soldiers in badly made khaki. When next I
- appeared with the finished picture all along my route soldiers came and
- asked courteously, and plainly, for all I knew not one word of their
- tongue, what the result had been. I showed them, of course, and my
- following grew as I passed on. They knew those who had been taken, which
- was lucky, for I certainly could not tell t'other from which'
- and, when I arrived at their little house, smiling claimants stretched out
- eager hands. I knew the number I had taken and I had a copy apiece. And
- very glad I was, too, when they all ranged up and solemnly saluted me, and
- then they brought me tea in their handleless cups, and I, unwashed though
- I felt those cups were, drank to our good-fellowship in the excellent
- Chinese tea that needs neither sugar nor milk to make it palatable.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0084.jpg" alt="0084 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0084.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- There were other people, too, on the walls in the early springtime,
- coolies clearing away the dead growth that had remained over from the past
- summer. It was so light it seemed hardly worth gathering, and those
- gleaners first taught me to realise something of the poverty of China, the
- desperate poverty that <span class="pagenum">046</span><a
- name="link046_rdquo_________id_" id="link046_rdquo_________id_"></a>dare
- not waste so much as a handful of dead grass. They gathered the refuse
- into heaps, tied it to each end of their bamboos, and, slinging it over
- their shoulders, trudged with it down one of the ramps into the city. Ever
- and again in my peregrinations, I would come across one of them sitting in
- the sun, going over his padded coat in the odd moments he could spare from
- his toil. For the lower-class Chinese understands not the desirability of
- water, as applied either to himself or his clothes, and, as he certainly
- never changes those clothes while one shred will hold to another, the
- moment must arrive, sooner or later, when his discomfort is desperate, and
- something must be done. He is like the <i>wonks</i>, the great yellow
- scavenger dogs that haunt the streets of Peking and all Chinese cities, he
- sits down and scratches himself, and goes through his clothes. At least
- that was my opinion. A friend of mine who had served for some years in the
- interior with the great company, the British and American Tobacco Company,
- that, with the missionaries, shares the honour of doing pioneer work in
- China, says I am wrong, Chinamen don't mind such a little thing as
- that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those carters,” said he, “in the interior as it gets
- colder just pile one garment on over another, and never take anything off,
- and by February—phew! If you want to smell a tall smell”—I
- said I didn't, the smells of Peking were quite recondite enough for
- me—but he paid no attention—“you just go and stand over
- the k'ang in a room where five or six of them are crowded together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the carters, it seems, are highly respectable, sometimes well-to-do
- men. I felt I had a lot to <span class="pagenum">047</span><a
- name="link047" id="link047"></a>learn about the Chinese, these men whose
- ancestors had built the walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course there are gates in the walls, nine gates in all in the Tartar
- City, great archways with iron-studded doors and watch-towers above. I
- count it one of the assets of my life, that I have stood under those
- archways, where for centuries has ebbed and flowed the traffic of a
- Babylonish city, old world still in this twentieth century. They are
- lighted with electric light now, instead of with pitch-pine torches, but
- no matter, the grey stones are there.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gate of a city like Peking is a great affair. Over every archway is a
- watch-tower, with tiled roofs rising tier above tier, and portholes filled
- with the painted muzzles of guns. Painted guns in the year of our Lord
- 1914! So is the past bound up with the present in China! And these are not
- entirely relics of the past like the catapult stones. In the year 1900,
- when the Boxers looted the Chinese City, and the Europeans in the
- Legations north of the Tartar wall trembled for their lives, the looters
- burned the watch-tower on the Chien Men, all that was burnable of it, and,
- when peace was restored, the Chinese set to work and built their
- many-tiered watch-tower, built it in all the glory of red, and green, and
- blue, and gold, and in the portholes they put the same painted cannon that
- had been there in past ages, not only to strike terror into the enemy, but
- also to impress the God of War with an idea of their preparedness. And yet
- there was hardly any need of sham, for these gateways must have been
- formidable things to negotiate before the days of heavy artillery, for
- each is protected by a curtain wall as high and as thick as the main wall,
- and in <span class="pagenum">048</span><a name="link048" id="link048"></a>them
- are archways, sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes three ways out, but
- always there is a great square walled off in front of the gate so that the
- traffic must pause, and may be stopped before it passes under the main
- archway into the city. And these archways look down upon a traffic
- differing but little from that which has passed down through all the ages.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here come the camels from Mongolia, ragged and dusty, laden with grain,
- and wool, and fruit, and the camels from the Western Hills, laden with
- those “black stones” that Marco Polo noted seven hundred years
- ago, and told his fellow-countrymen they burned for heating purposes in
- Cambulac. You may see them down by the Ha Ta Men preparing to start out on
- their long journey, you may see them in the Imperial City, bringing in
- their wares, but outside the south-western gate, by the watch-tower that
- guards the corner of the wall, they are to be seen at their best. Here,
- where the dust is heaped high under the clear blue sky of Northern China,
- come slowly, in stately fashion, the camels, as they have come for
- thousands of years. The man who leads them is ragged in the blue of the
- peasant, his little eyes are keen, and patient, and cunning, and there is
- a certain stolidity in his demeanour; life can hold but few pleasures for
- him, one would think, and yet he is human, he cannot go on superior,
- regardless of outside things, as does his string of beasts of burden. The
- crenellated walls rise up behind them, the watch-tower with its painted
- guns frowns down upon them, and the camels, the cord fastened to the tail
- of the one in front, passing through the nostrils of the one <span
- class="pagenum">049</span><a name="link049" id="link049"></a>behind, go
- steadily on. They are like the walls, they are older than the walls,
- possibly they may outlive the walls; silently, surely, in the soft,
- heaped-up dust they move; so they came a thousand years ago, two thousand
- years ago, before the very dawn of history.
- </p>
- <p>
- These Babylonish gates have for me a never-ending attraction. I look and
- look at the traffic, and always find something new. One sunny morning I
- went and sat in the Chien Men, just to watch the never-ending throng that
- made their way backwards and forwards between the Chinese and the Tartar
- Cities. I took up my position in the centre of the great square, large as
- Waterloo Place, enclosed by the curtain wall, and the American Guard
- looked down upon me and wondered, for they watch the traffic day in and
- day out, and so long as it is peaceful, they see nothing to remark upon in
- it. There are three gates in the curtain wall, the one to the south is
- never opened except for the highest in the land to pass through, but from
- the east gate the traffic goes from the Tartar to the Chinese City,
- through the west it comes back again, meeting and passing under the great
- archway that leads to the Tartar City. And all day long that square is
- thronged. East and west of the main archway are little temples with the
- golden-brown roofs of all imperial temples, the Goddess of Mercy is
- enshrined here, and there are bronze vases and flowering plants, and green
- trees in artistic pots, all going to make a quiet little resting-place
- where a man may turn aside for a moment from the rush and roar of the
- city, burn aromatic incense sticks, and invoke good fortune for the
- enterprise on which he is <span class="pagenum">050</span><a
- name="link050_rdquo_________id_" id="link050_rdquo_________id_"></a>engaged.
- Do the people believe in the Goddess of Mercy, I wonder? About as much as
- I do, I suspect. The Chinaman, said a Chinese to me once, is the most
- materialistic of heathens, believing in little that he cannot see, and
- handle, and explain; but all of us, Eastern or Western, are human, and
- have the ordinary man's desire for the pitiful, kindly care of some
- unseen Power. It is only natural. I, too, Westerner as I am, daughter of
- the newest of nations, burned incense sticks at the shrine of the Goddess
- of Mercy, and put up a little prayer that the work upon which I was
- engaged should be successful. Men have prayed here through the centuries.
- The prayer of so great a multitude must surely reach the Most High, and
- what matter by what name He is known.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0090.jpg" alt="0090 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0090.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Besides the temples there are little guard-houses for the soldiers in the
- square; guard-houses with delicate, dainty lattice-work windows, and there
- are signboards with theatre notices in Chinese on gay red and yellow
- paper. There are black and yellow uniformed military police, there are
- grey-coated little soldiers with just a dash of red about their shabby,
- ill-fitting uniforms, and there are the people passing to and fro intent
- on their business, the earning of a cash, or of thousands of dollars. The
- earning of a cash, one would think mostly, looking at many a thing of
- shreds and patches that passes by. To Western eyes the traffic is archaic,
- no great motors rush about carrying crowds at once, it consists of
- rickshaws with one or, at most, a couple of fares, of Peking carts with
- blue tilts and a sturdy pony or a handsome mule in the shafts, and the
- driver seated cross-legged in fronts of longer carts <span class="pagenum">051</span><a
- name="link051" id="link051"></a>with wheels studded, as the Peking carts
- are, and loaded with timber, with lime, and all manner of merchandise, and
- drawn sometimes by three or four underfed little horses, but mostly by a
- horse or mule in the shafts and a mule or a donkey so far in front one
- wonders he can exert any influence on the traction at all. The rickshaw
- coolies clang their bells, men on bicycles toot their horns, every donkey,
- and most horses and mules, have rings of bells round their necks, and
- everyone shouts at the top of his voice, while forty feet up on the wall,
- a foreign soldier, one of the Americans who hold the Chien Men, is
- practising all his bugle calls.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Turn out, turn out Mess, mess,” proclaims the bugle shrilly
- above. “Clang, clang, clang,” ring the rickshaw bells. A
- postman in shabby blue, with bands of dirty white, passes on his bicycle
- and blows his horn, herald of the ways of the West. A brougham comes along
- with sides all of glass, such as the Chinaman loves. In it is a man in a
- modern tall hat, a little out-of-date; on the box, are two men in grey
- silk, orthodox Chinese costume, queue and all, but alas for
- picturesqueness they have crowned their heads with hideous tourist caps,
- the mafoo behind on the step, hanging on to the roof by a strap, has on a
- very ordinary wideawake, his business it is to jump down and lead the
- horses round a corner—no self-respecting Chinese horse can negotiate
- a corner without assistance—and the finishing touch is put by the
- coachman, also in a tourist cap, who clangs a bell with as much fervour as
- a rickshaw coolie. Before this carriage trot outriders. “Lend light,
- lend light,” they cry, which is the Eastern way of saying “By
- your leave, by your <span class="pagenum">052</span><a name="link052"
- id="link052"></a>leave. My master a great man comes.” After the
- coach come more riders. It may be a modern carriage in which lie rides,
- but the important man in China can no more move without his outriders and
- his following, than could one of the kings or nobles of Nineveh or
- Babylon.
- </p>
- <p>
- More laden carts come in from the west, and the policeman, in dusty black
- and yellow, directs them, though they really need no directing. The
- average Chinese mind is essentially orderly, and never dreams of
- questioning rules. Is there not a stone exactly in the middle of the road
- under the great archway, and does not every man know that those going east
- must go one way, and those going west the other? What need for direction?
- An old-fashioned fat Chinese with shaven head and pigtail and sleeveless
- black satin waistcoat over his long blue coat comes along. He
- half-smothers a small donkey with a ring of jingling bells round its neck,
- a coolie follows him in rags, but that does not matter, spring is in the
- land, and he is nearly hidden by the lilac bloom he carries, another comes
- along with a basket strapped on his back and a scoop in his hand, he is
- collecting the droppings of the animals, either for manure or to make
- argol for fuel, a stream of rickshaws swerve out of the way of a blind
- man, ragged, bent, old, who with lute in one hand and staff in the other
- taps his way along.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hsien Sheng, before born,” he is addressed by the coolies
- directing him, for his affliction brings him outward respect from these
- courteous people.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the rickshaws are all manner of people: Manchu women with high
- head-dresses in the form of a cross, highly painted faces and the gayest
- of <span class="pagenum">053</span><a name="link053" id="link053"></a>long
- silk coats, shy Chinese women, who from their earliest childhood have been
- taught that a woman must efface herself. Their hair is decked with
- flowers, and dressed low on the nape of their necks, their coats are of
- soberer colours, and their feet are pitifully maimed. “For every
- small foot,” says a Chinese proverb, “there is a jar full of
- tears.” The years of agony every one of those women must have lived
- through, but their faces are impassive, smiling with a surface smile that
- gives no indication of the feelings behind.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Chien Men, because it opens only from the Tartar to the Chinese City,
- is not closed, but eight o'clock sees all the gates in the
- twenty-three miles of outer wall closed for the night, and very awkward it
- sometimes is for the foreigner, who is not used to these restrictions, for
- neither threats nor bribes will open those gates once they are shut.
- </p>
- <p>
- I remember on one occasion a young fellow, who had lingered too long among
- the delights of the city, found himself, one pleasant warm summer evening,
- just outside the Shun Chih Men as the gates of the Chinese City were
- closing. He wanted to get back to his cottage at the race-course but the
- guardians of the gate were obdurate. “It was an order and the gates
- were closed till daylight next morning.” He could not climb the
- walls, and even if he could, the two ponies he had with him could not. He
- probably used up all the bad language at his command, if I know anything
- about him, and he grew more furious when he recollected he had guests
- coming to dinner. Then he began to think, and remembered that the railway
- came through the wall. Inspection showed him that there <span
- class="pagenum">054</span><a name="link054" id="link054"></a>were gates
- across it, also fast closed, and here he got his second wind, and quite a
- fresh assortment of bad language, which was checked by the whistle of an
- approaching train. Then a bright idea occurred to him. Where a train could
- go, a pony could go, and he stood close to the line in the darkness,
- instructed his mafoo to keep close beside him, and the moment the train
- passed, got on to the line and followed in its wake, regardless of the
- protests of raging gatekeepers. He got through the gate triumphantly, but
- then, alas, his troubles began, for the railway line had not been built
- with a view to taking ponies through the wall. There were rocks and barbed
- wire, there were fences, and there were mud holes, and his guests are wont
- to relate how as they were sitting down to table under the hospitable
- guidance of his No. 1 boy, there arrived on the scene a man, mud to the eyes—it
- was summertime when there is plenty of mud in the country round Peking—and
- silent, because no profanity of which he was capable could possibly have
- done justice to his feelings. Such are some of the joys of living in a
- Babylonish city.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0096.jpg" alt="0096 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0096.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">055</span><a name="link055" id="link055"></a>When I
- had sat an hour in the gate I rose to go, and the rickshaw coolie and I
- disagreed as to the fare. A rickshaw coolie and I never did agree as to
- the fare. Gladly would I pay double to avoid a row, but the coolie, taken
- from the Legation Quarter of Peking where the tourists spoil him, would
- complain and try to extort more if you offered him a dollar for a ten-cent
- ride, therefore the thing was not to be avoided. I did not see my way to
- getting clear, and a crowd began to gather. Then there came along a
- Chinese, a well-dressed young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- His long petticoats of silk were slit at the sides, he had on a silken
- jacket and a little round cap. He wore no queue, because few of the men of
- his generation, and of his rank wear a queue, and he spoke English as good
- as my own.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the matter?” I told him. “How much did you pay
- him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forty cents.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is too much,” said he, and he called a policeman, and that
- coolie was driven off with contumely. But it marked a wonderful stride in
- Chinese feeling that a Chinese should come to the assistance of a
- foreigner in distress. Not very long ago he would have passed on the other
- side, scorning the woman of the outer barbarians, glad in his heart that
- she should be “done” even by one so low in the social scale as
- a rickshaw coolie, a serf of the great city these ancient walls enclose.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV—THE LEGATION QUARTER OF PEKING
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">056</span><a name="link056" id="link056"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>A forgotten tragedy—The troops—“Lest We Forget”—The
- fortified wall—“No low-class Chinese”—The last
- thing in the way of insults—A respecter of power—Racing
- stables—Pekin s'amuse—Chinese gentleman on a waltz—Musical
- comedy—The French of the Far East—Chances of an outbreak—No
- wounded.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t Canton a few
- years since,” wrote Sir George Staunton, recording the visit of the
- first British Ambassador to the Emperor of China in 1798, “an
- accident happened which had well-nigh put a stop to our foreign trade.
- Evils of every kind fraught with this tendency are to be apprehended, and
- ought to be particularly guarded against, especially by a commercial
- nation. On some day by rejoicing in firing the guns of one of those
- vessels which navigates between the British settlements in India and
- Canton, but not in the employment of the East India Company, two Chinese,
- in a boat lying near the vessel, were accidentally killed by the gunner.
- The crime of murder is never pardoned in China. The Viceroy of the
- Province, fired with indignation at the supposed atrocity, demanded the
- perpetrator of the deed, or the person of him who ordered it. The event
- was stated in remonstrance to be purely accidental but the Viceroy,
- supposing it to have been done from a wicked disposition, still persisted
- in his <span class="pagenum">057</span><a name="link057" id="link057"></a>demand,
- and to assure himself of that object, he seized one of the principal
- supercargoes. The other factories being alarmed, united themselves with
- the English as in a common cause, and seemed disposed to resist the
- intentions of the Viceroy who on his part arranged his troops on the banks
- of the river to force a compliance. It was at last deemed expedient on
- principles of policy, to give up the gunner with scarce a glimmering of
- hope that his life would be spared.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Later on in a casual footnote he records that their worst fears had been
- realised, and the unfortunate gunner, given up, let us hope, not so much
- from motives of policy as to save the supercargo, had been done to death.
- </p>
- <p>
- That incident, to my mind, explains the Legation Quarter of Peking to-day.
- Of course the Legation, in its present form, dates only from the Boxer
- rising, but the germ of it was there when the merchants of the assembled
- nations felt themselves compelled to sacrifice the careless gunner “from
- motives of policy.” One hundred and twenty years ago the Western
- nations were only a stage removed from the barbaric civilisation the
- Chinese had reached two or three thousand years before, but still they
- were moving onward, and they felt they must combine if they would trade
- with this rich land, and yet protect their subjects and their goods. And
- so they did combine, and there arose that curious state of affairs between
- the foreigners and the people of the land that has held for many years,
- that holds in no other land, and that has crystallised in the Legation
- Quarter of Peking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suppose in London all the great nations of the <span class="pagenum">058</span><a
- name="link058" id="link058"></a>earth took a strip of the town, extending
- say from Marble Arch to Hyde Park Corner, and from Park Lane to Bond
- Street, held it and fortified it heavily, barring out the inhabitants, not
- wholly, but by certain regulations that prevented them having the upper
- hand. The thing is unthinkable, yet that is exactly what has happened in
- Peking. Against the Tartar wall, from the Chien Men to the Ha Ta Men, the
- nations have taken a parallelogram of ground all but a mile square, they
- have heavily fortified it, on three sides they have cleared a broad glacis
- on which no houses may be built, and they have there a body of troops with
- which they could overawe if not hold all the town.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0102.jpg" alt="0102 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0102.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- No man knows exactly how many men the Japanese have, but supposing they
- are on a par with the other nations, there are at least two thousand five
- hundred men armed to the teeth and kept at the highest pitch of perfection
- in the Legation Quarter. Living there is like living in an armed camp. You
- cannot go in or out without passing forts or guns, in the streets you meet
- ammunition wagons, baggage wagons, Red Cross wagons, and at every turn are
- soldiers, soldiers of all the European nations that have any standing at
- all, soldiers from America, soldiers from Japan; they are doing sentry-go
- at the various Legations, they are drilling, they are marching, they are
- shooting all day long. In one corner of the British Legation they keep
- untouched a piece of the old shot-torn wall of 1900 and painted on it, in
- big black letters, is the legend, “Lest We Forget,” a reminder
- always, if the nations needed a reminder, of the days of 1900, of the
- terrible days that may be repeated any time this <span class="pagenum">059</span><a
- name="link059" id="link059"></a>peace-loving nation drifts into an
- anti-foreign outbreak. I was going to write it is almost insulting; but it
- is insulting, and this armed Legation Quarter must be in truth cruelly
- galling to the better-class, educated Chinese. They must long to oust
- these arrogant men from the West and their neighbour from the East, who
- thus lord it over them in the very heart of their own city. Even the wall,
- the great Tartar wall built first by Kublai Khan, and finished by the Ming
- conquerors, comes under foreign domination from the Ha Ta Men to the Chien
- Men. The watch-tower over the Ha Ta Men is still in the hands of the
- Chinese, and like most things Chinese is all out of repair. The red
- lacquer is cracked, the gold is faded, the grass grows on the tiled roofs,
- in the winter dried-up and faded, in the summer lush and green, and for
- all the Chinese soldiers hold it, it is desolate and a thing of the past
- But a hundred yards or so to the west, is the German post. Always are
- armed men there with the eagle on their helmets, always an armed sentry
- marches up and down, keeping watch and ward. No great need for them to
- hold the Ha Ta Men, their guns dominate it, and below in the town the
- French hold carefully the fortified eastern side of the Legation Quarter.
- The centre of that strip of wall, held by the Japanese, is marked by an
- iron fence called, I am told, a “traverse.” There is a gate in
- it, and across the path to that gate, so that it may not be so easily got
- through, is built up a little wall of brick the height of a man. In the
- summertime the grass grows on it green and fresh, and all the iron bars of
- that fence and gate are wreathed in morning glory. The Japanese are not so
- much in evidence as the <span class="pagenum">060</span><a
- name="link060_rdquo_________id_" id="link060_rdquo_________id_"></a>efficient
- Germans or the smart Americans, but I am told they are more than keen, and
- would gladly and effectually hold the whole wall would the other nations
- allow them. At the Chien Men, the western end of the mile-long strip of
- wall are the Americans, tall, lean, smart, capable men in khaki, with
- slouch hats turned up at the sides, clean-shaven faces and the sound in
- their voices that makes of their English another tongue. In the troubles
- of 1912, when fires were breaking out all over the city, and every
- foreigner fled for safety to his Legation, Uncle Sam, guarding the western
- end of the wall overlooking those Legations, seized the beautiful new
- watch-tower on the Chien Men, his soldiers established themselves there,
- and they hold it still. It dominates their Legation they say with reason,
- for their own safety they must hold it, and the Chinese acquiesce, not
- because they like it, but because they must. Periodically representations
- come in, all is quiet now, the Americans may as well give up the main
- gate, or rather watch-tower, for they do not hold the main gate, only the
- tower that overlooks it. But the answer is always the same, it overlooks
- their Legation, they must hold it. They have a wireless telegraph post
- there and a block-house, and the regulations for the sentry, couched in
- cold, calm, official language, are an insult to the friendly nation that
- gives them hospitality, or would be so, if that nation had not shown
- itself incapable of controlling the passions of its own aroused people.
- The sentry clad in khaki in summer, in blue in winter, marching up and
- down by the watch-tower, magnificent in its gorgeous Eastern decorations
- of blue, and green, and red, and barbaric gold, must report at once
- anything <span class="pagenum">061</span><a name="link061" id="link061"></a>unusual
- taking place in the gate below, any large gathering of Chinese, any
- unusual commotion, but above all upon that wall, that wall that belongs to
- them and is the wall of their capital city, he must not allow, without a
- permit, any Chinese. The wording of the order runs, “No low-class
- Chinese,” but the definition of low class is left to the discretion
- of the soldier, and he is not likely to risk a reproof from those in
- authority over him by being too lax. With my own eyes have I seen a
- Chinese, well-dressed in European clothes, turned back by the sentry from
- the ramp when he would have walked upon the wall. He looked surprised, he
- was with European friends, the order could not apply to him, but the
- sentry was firm. He had his orders, “No Chinese,” and without
- a special permit he must see them carried out. It seemed cruel, and
- unnecessarily humiliating, but on the central ramp are still the places
- where the Americans, seeking some material for a barricade, fighting to
- save themselves from a ghastly death, tore out the bricks from the side of
- the great wall. Other nations beside Britain, write in their actions, if
- not on their walls: “Lest We Forget!” The lower-class Chinese
- probably do not mind the prohibition. It is considered bad manners for a
- Chinaman to walk upon the wall, because he thereby overlooks the private
- houses below, but in these days of the New Republic possibly good manners
- are not so much considered as formerly, and since the Chinese have never
- been allowed upon the wall they probably do not realise that thirteen
- miles of it are free to them, if they care to go there. Some few I know
- do, because I have met there men gathering the dried vegetation for fuel,
- and I have <span class="pagenum">062</span><a name="link062" id="link062"></a>seen
- one or two beggars, long-haired, filthy men in the frowsiest of rags, but
- the first have probably got permission from the soldiers, and the latter,
- seeing foreigners there, have most likely been tempted by the hope of what
- to them is a lavish dole, and, finding no harm happen, have come again. I
- may be wrong, of course, but I hardly think death can have much terror for
- the Chinese beggar, life must hold so very little for him. Those who,
- having dared their own portion of the wall with impunity, find the foreign
- mile still a forbidden place to them, probably put it in the same category
- as the Forbidden City, and never realise that it is the outlander, the
- outer barbarian, and not their own Government that shuts them off.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the holding of that wall by an armed force, that dominates both the
- Chinese and the Tartar Cities, seems to me the very greatest thing in the
- way of insults. Some day when the Chinese are a united nation, powerful as
- they ought to be, they will awake to that insult, and the first thing they
- will do will be to clear their wall from foreign interference. Meanwhile,
- as I sit in a courtyard of a temple of the Western Hills, drinking in the
- sparkling air of September, looking at the lovely blue sky peeping through
- the dark green branches of the temple pines, as I sit and write this book,
- I think gratefully of that loose-limbed, lissom, athletic, young American
- soldier who, with rifle across his shoulder, is doing sentry-go upon the
- wall. The German is there too, the stiff, well-drilled, military German,
- but my heart goes out to the man who is nearer akin, and whose speech is
- not unlike that of the people of my own land. It seems to me I am <span
- class="pagenum">063</span><a name="link063" id="link063"></a>safe here,
- alone among the Chinese, because of those soldiers. There are those who
- will say I am wrong, that the Chinese are always courteous, and that they
- like me because of the money I put into their pockets. And that is true
- enough too. I have found the very rickshaw coolie a finished, courteous
- gentleman in his manner towards me, and I have received many little acts
- of kindness which could but come from a kindly heart, with no thought of
- profit behind it; but still, deep down at the bottom of my heart, I know
- that the Chinese, more than any man on earth perhaps, respects power, and
- the Legation Quarter, and the holding of that wall, are an outward
- manifestation of power that reaches far and keeps me safe here in my
- mountain temple. The gods here by my side are dead, who fears or respects
- the gods, Spanish chestnuts are stored beside their altars, but the
- foreign soldiers on the wall are a fact there is no getting over. It
- impresses those in authority, and the fiat goes forth, permeating through
- all classes, “The foreigner is not to be touched under any
- circumstances whatever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- On this wall come the foreign community to exercise and promenade in the
- cool of the evening in summer, or to enjoy the sunshine at midday in
- winter, and here all the soldiers and sailors of the various nationalities
- foregather. There is no other place in all Peking where one can walk with
- comfort, for the Chinese as a nation, have no idea of the joy of exercise.
- They have put it out of the power of their women to move save with
- difficulty, and that a man should take any pleasure in violent exercise
- seems to them absurd. To walk when he <span class="pagenum">064</span><a
- name="link064" id="link064"></a>can ride in a rickshaw, or mount a donkey,
- would argue something wrong in his mental outlook, so it happens that, in
- all the great city, there are only the streets of the Legation Quarter and
- the wall where walking exercise can be indulged in. The streets of the
- Quarter are the streets of an uninteresting, commonplace town, but the
- wall overlooking the two cities is quite another matter. Here the part of
- the foreign community that does not ride takes its exercise, and
- foregathers with its kind.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0110.jpg" alt="0110 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0110.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0111.jpg" alt="0111 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0111.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The foreign quarter is not always thinking of the dangers it is guarding
- against. That it thinks also a great deal of its amusement, goes without
- saying. I have observed that this is a special characteristic of the
- Briton abroad. At home the middle-class man—or woman—is chary
- of pleasure, taking it as if it were something he had hardly a right to;
- but abroad he seizes eagerly the smallest opportunity for amusing himself,
- demanding amusement as something that hardly compensates him for his exile
- from his native land. So it has come that I, a looker-on, with less strong
- bonds than those from the Old Country binding me to my father's
- land, fancy that these exiles have in the end a far better time than the
- men of the same class who stay at home. I am apt to have no pity for them
- whatever.
- </p>
- <p>
- One thing is certain, people keep horses here in Peking who could not
- dream of such a luxury in England. True, they are only ponies fourteen
- hands high, but a great deal of fun can be got out of pony racing. And
- racing-stables are a feature of the Quarter. Not that they are in the
- Quarter. <span class="pagenum">065</span><a name="link065" id="link065"></a>On
- the plain, about five miles to the west of the city, lies the little
- race-course, and dotted about within easy distance of this excellent
- training-ground are the various training-stables for the ponies. The China
- pony comes from Mongolia, where close watch and ward is kept over him, and
- neither mares nor stallions are exported.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could only get hold of a mare,” sighs the young racing
- man, but he sighs in vain. Meanwhile he can indulge in the sport of kings
- cheaply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've joined another fellow in a racing-stable,” said a
- man to me, soon after my arrival in Peking, and I looked upon him with
- something of the awe and respect one gives to great wealth. I had not
- thought he was so well off. He saw my mistake and laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The preliminary expenses are only thirty pounds,” he went on,
- “and I don't intend they shall be very heavy. We can have good
- sport at a moderate cost.” Of course moderate cost is an elastic
- term, depending on the purse of the speaker, but in this case I think it
- meant that men of very ordinary means, poor exiles who would live in a
- six-roomed flat with a couple of maidservants in England, might have a
- good time without straining those means unduly.
- </p>
- <p>
- A race-meeting in Peking has peculiarities all its own. Of course it is
- only the men from the West who would think of a race-meeting. The Chinese,
- except at the theatre, do not amuse themselves in crowds.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Spring Meeting took place early in May, and the description of it
- should come a little later in my book, but it seems to fall naturally into
- <span class="pagenum">066</span><a name="link066" id="link066"></a>the
- story of the doings of the Legation Quarter. Arrangements were made with
- the French railway running to Hankow to stop close to the course, and put
- the race-going crowd down there. There was no other means of getting
- there, except by riding; for driving in a country where every inch of
- ground, save a narrow and rough track, is given over to the needs of
- agriculture, is out of the question. That spring race-meeting the day was
- ideal. There was the blue sky overhead, the brilliant sunshine, a gentle
- breeze to temper it, the young kaoliang was springing, lush and green, in
- the fields, and the ash-trees that shelter the race-course were one
- delicate tender green. A delicious day. Could the heart of man desire
- more? Apparently the foreign residents of Peking did not desire more, for
- they turned out, men, women, and children. And then I saw what a handful
- of people are these foreigners who live in the capital of China and
- endeavour to direct her destinies, for save and except the missionary
- element, most of the other foreigners were there, from his Britannic
- Majesty's representative to the last little boy who had joined a
- hong as junior clerk at a hundred dollars a month, and felt that the cares
- of Empire were on his shoulders. They were mostly British, of course, the
- foreign trade of China—long may it be so—is mostly in British
- hands; and there were representatives of every other great nation, the
- Ministers of France, Germany, Russia, of Italy, Austria, Spain, Belgium,
- Holland, and Japan, everyone but America, for America was busy recognising
- the Chinese Republic, and the other nations were smiling, and wondering
- why the nation that prides <span class="pagenum">067</span><a
- name="link067" id="link067"></a>itself on being the champion of freedom
- for the people, was being the first to recognise what is, virtually, a
- despotic rule.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little course, a mile round, is marked out with leafy ash-trees, the
- grand-stand was charming with lilac bloom purple and white, and banksia
- roses, fragrant as tender memories. It was shaded by p'engs—mats—raised
- high on scaffolding, so that pleasant shade might not interfere with the
- cool breeze, and here were the women of the community, the women of
- well-to-do people, gay in dainty toilets from London and Paris; the men
- were in light summer suits, helmets and straw hats, for summer was almost
- upon us. Tiffin, the luncheon of the East, was set in the rooms behind,
- decorated with miniature flags of all nations, made in Japan, and wreathed
- with artificial flowers, though there was a wealth of natural blossom
- around the stand outside. There is a steward's room and the
- weighing-room in one tiny building with a curved roof of artistic Chinese
- design, and all the ponies are walked about and saddled and mounted where
- every interested spectator can see them. And every spectator on that sunny
- May day was interested, for the horses, the sturdy Chinese ponies, were,
- and always are, owned and ridden by the men of the company, men whom
- everybody knows intimately. For these Peking race-meetings are only
- amateur, and though, occasionally, a special pony may change hands at two
- thousand dollars—two hundred pounds—the majority are bought
- and sold under two hundred dollars—twenty pounds—and yet their
- owners have much joy and pride in them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Surely it is unique, a race-meeting where all the <span class="pagenum">068</span><a
- name="link068" id="link068"></a>civilised nations of the earth meet and
- fraternise in simple, friendly fashion, taking a common pleasure in small
- things.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They're off!” Mostly the exclamation was in English,
- but a Russian-owned horse, ridden by a Cossack rider, won one race, and
- was led proudly up to the weighing-room by a fair lady of his own people,
- and was cordially applauded, for the winner was always applauded, no
- matter what his nationality.
- </p>
- <p>
- The horses, coming out to parade, were each led by their own mafoo, who
- managed to look horsey in spite of a shaven head, long queue, and
- pronounced Chinese features. Up and down they led the ponies, up and down,
- and when at last the precious charges must be resigned, a score of them
- squatted down just where they could get the best view of the race, and
- doubtless each man put up a little prayer to the god he most affected,
- that the pony that carried his money might come in first.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we were not watching the saddling, or the parade, or the race, or the
- weighing-in, we were listening to a Chinese band, Sir Robert Bredon's
- band, with a Chinese conductor, playing selections from all the modern
- Western music. It might have been—where in the world might it not
- have been? Nowhere but in Peking in the heart of China surely, for there,
- just beyond the limit of the course, were long strings of camels bound for
- coal to the Western Hills, marching steadily, solemnly, tirelessly, as
- they marched in the days of Marco Polo, and a thousand years before the
- days of Marco Polo, and all round the course, crowding every point of
- vantage were a large concourse of Chinese, people <span class="pagenum">069</span><a
- name="link069" id="link069"></a>of the working and middle classes, clad
- mostly in blue, the women with bound feet from the farms near by, the men
- and the children very likely from further afield, but all unchanging as
- the camels themselves, eagerly watching the foreigners' sports. They
- are not allowed to come into the enclosure, every mafoo and attendant
- wears a special badge, and even Chinese of the better class may come only
- by special invitation of some member. These interested folk, who have no
- friends among the foreigners may not even go into the enclosure, where the
- “Tommies” and bluejackets, men from England and America,
- France, Japan, and all the countries of the earth crowded in the gay
- sunshine making high holiday. Nevertheless the Orientals surrounded the
- course. They got upon the mounds of earth that are at the back and looked
- from that vantage-point not only at the races but at the foreign devils at
- their tiffin and afternoon tea. Their own refreshment was provided by
- hawkers selling cakes and sweetmeats, just outside the forbidden ground,
- and Peking carts and donkeys waited round to take them back to their
- homes. There were even beggars there, beggars with long, unkempt hair,
- wrapped in a single garment of sackcloth, ragged, unwashed, unkempt, the
- typical beggars of China, for no one knows better than they when money is
- being lightly handled, and as the bright sunny day, the gorgeous spring
- day of Northern China drew slowly to a close doubtless even they, whom
- every man's hand was against, gathered in a few stray cash. I hope
- they did. Such a very little makes so much difference in China.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sun sank slowly to the west in the translucent <span class="pagenum">070</span><a
- name="link070" id="link070"></a>sky, the ponies in the saddling paddock
- were walked slowly up and down in the long shadows of the ash-trees, and
- the country was beautiful with the soft regret of the dying day as we
- walked back through the fields of kaoliang to the railway station, we, the
- handful of people who represented the power and majesty of the Western
- world. The mighty walls of an older civilisation frowned down upon the
- train—this thing of yesterday—the last rays of the setting sun
- lighted up all the glory of the red and gold of the Chien Men watch-tower
- and we were in the Legation Quarter once more, with armed sentries at the
- gates, and the American soldier upon the wall sounding the bugle call for
- the changing guard.
- </p>
- <p>
- I come from a country where every little township considers a race-course
- as necessary as a cemetery. I have been to many many race-meetings, but
- this one in Peking, where the men of the land are so barred out that no
- one of Chinese descent may belong to the Club or even ride a race, stands
- out as unique. It has a place in my mind by itself. It was so expressive
- of the attitude of the Powers who watch over China. Peking, the Peking of
- the Legations had been amusing herself. The National Assembly was in an
- uproar, the Premier was openly accused of murder, the Loan was in anything
- but a satisfactory state, everyone feared that the North and the South
- would be at each other's throats before the month was out, the air
- was full of rumours of wars, but the English-speaking community love
- racing, the other nations, from their Ministers downwards, had fallen into
- line, and Peking, foreign Peking, did itself well.
- </p>
- <p>
- And I wondered, I wondered much what the <span class="pagenum">071</span><a
- name="link071" id="link071"></a>Chinese thought of it all. It is very,
- very difficult, so men tell me who have lived in China long, and speak the
- language well, to get at the bottom of the Chinese mind, to know what they
- really do think of us. The Chinese gentleman is so courteous that as far
- as possible he always expresses the opinion he thinks you would like to
- hear, and the Chinese woman, even if she be of the better classes, with
- very few exceptions is unlearned and ignorant as a child, indeed she is
- worse than a child of the Western nations, for the child is at least
- allowed to ask questions and learn, while all her charm is supposed to
- depend upon her subservience and her ignorance. As I stood on the
- race-course that day, and many a time as I sat in the lounge of the Wagons
- Lits Hotel—the European hotel of the Legation Quarter—where
- all tourists visiting Peking come, where the nations of the world
- foregather, and East meets West as never before perhaps in the world's
- history have they met, I have wondered very much indeed what the East, the
- portly middle-aged Chinaman with flowing silken robes and long queue
- thinks of us and our manners and customs. He was accompanied perhaps by a
- friend, or perhaps by a lady in high collar and trousers with a little
- son, the crown of the child's head shaven, and the remaining hair
- done in a halo of little plaits tied up with string, yellow, red, or blue,
- and he watched gravely either the dancing, or the conversation, or the
- conjurer, or whatever other amusement the “Wagons Lits” had
- for the time being set up. Again and again have I watched him, but I could
- never even make a guess at what he thought. Probably it was anything but
- complimentary.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0119.jpg" alt="0119 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0119.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">072</span><a name="link072" id="link072"></a>"The
- men dressed for dinner,” said a Chinese once, describing an evening
- he had spent among foreigners; “then the order was given and the
- women stripped,” that is took off their wraps when the music began,
- only everything is “ordered” in China, “and each man
- seized a woman in his arms. He pushed her forward, he pulled her back,”
- graphic illustrations were given, “he whirled round and round and
- she had no will of her own. And it was all done to horrible music.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything is in the point of view, and that is how, at least one Chinese
- gentleman saw a waltz. I used to wonder what he said of the musical comedy
- that from time to time is presented by a wandering company in the
- dining-room of the Wagons Lits Hotel. They displayed upon a tiny crowded
- stage, for the edification of Chinese and foreigners alike, for the room
- was crowded with Chinese both of the old and of the new order, such a
- picture of morals as Europeans take as a matter of course. We know well
- enough that such scenes as are depicted in “The Girl in the Taxi”
- are merely the figments of an exuberant imagination, and are not the daily
- habits of any class either in London or Paris. But what do the Chinese
- think? All things are necessary and good, I suppose, but some are
- difficult to explain. Thirteen years ago the Boxer tragedy, now the
- musical comedy full of indecencies scarcely veiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- Truth to tell, it was a very interesting thing for a new-comer like me to
- sit in that hotel watching the people, and listening to the various
- opinions so freely given by all and sundry. From all parts of the world
- people come there, tourists, soldiers, <span class="pagenum">073</span><a
- name="link073" id="link073"></a>sailors, business men, philanthropists'—men
- who were working for the good of China, and men who were ready to exploit
- her. And then the opinions as to the safety of the Europeans in China that
- were expressed! Here, in the security of the Legation Quarter, I collected
- those opinions as I wanted to go into the interior, and I was by no means
- anxious to risk my life.
- </p>
- <p>
- To arrive at any decision was very difficult. In the Treaty Ports there
- may be some unanimity, but once outside it seemed that every man had his
- own particular opinion of China and the Chinese, and all these opinions
- differed widely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Safe,” said a man who had fought through the Boxer trouble;
- “safer far than London. They had to pay then, and they won't
- forget, you can take your oath of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like living on a volcano,” said another. “No, I shall
- never forget the Boxer trouble. That's the kind of thing that is
- graved on your mind with hot irons. Do it again? Of course they'll
- do it again. A docile people, I grant you, but they're very fiends
- when they're aroused. They're emotional, you know, the French
- of the Far East, and when they let themselves go———”
- He paused, and I realised that he had seen them let themselves go, and no
- words could describe the horror of it. “Would I let my wife and
- children live in one of the hu t'ungs of Peking? Would I? How would
- they get away when the trouble commenced?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The chances are they couldn't get away. The hu t'ungs of
- Peking are narrow alley-ways running out from the main thoroughfares, and
- the houses there are built, Chinese fashion, round courtyards <span
- class="pagenum">074</span><a name="link074" id="link074"></a>and behind
- blank walls, hidden away in a nest of other buildings, and the difficulty
- of getting out and back to the armed Legation Quarter, when a mob were out
- bent on killing, would be enormous.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A Debt Commission spells another anti-foreign outbreak, and we're
- within an ace of a Debt Commission,” said another man thoughtfully;
- “and if there is a row and things look like going against us, I keep
- one cartridge in my revolver for myself.” It does not seem much when
- I write it down, such things have I heard carelessly said many a time
- before, but when I, a foreigner and a solitary woman, was contemplating a
- trip up-country, they had a somewhat sinister sound.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the other hand again and again have I heard men scout all idea of
- danger, men who have been up and down the country for years. And yet but
- yesterday, the day before I write these words, a man looked at his pretty
- young wife, she was sweetly pretty, and vowed vehemently, “I would
- not leave my wife and child alone for a night in our house just outside
- the Quarter for anything on earth. If anything did happen—and it
- might———” and he dropped his voice. There are some
- things that will not bear thinking about, and he had seen the looting of
- Nanking and the unfortunates who had died when they took the Woosung
- Forts. “We went to look after the wounded,” said he, “and
- there weren't any wounded. The savage Northern soldiery had seen to
- that.” And those whom they mutilated were their own people! What
- would they do to a foreigner in the event of an anti-foreign outbreak?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you afraid?” I asked a man who certainly lived far enough
- away in the city. <span class="pagenum">075</span><a name="link075"
- id="link075"></a>He looked at me curiously, as if he were going to say
- there was nothing to be afraid of, and then he changed his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps I am when I think of it,” said he; “but then
- you see, I don't think of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And that is the average attitude, the necessary attitude, because no man
- can perpetually brood over the dangers that might assail him. Certain
- precautions he takes to safeguard himself, here are the nations armed to
- the teeth in the heart of a friendly country, and for the rest <i>Quien
- sabe?</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- And I talked with all men, and while I was making preparations to go into
- the interior, had the good-fortune to see a quaint and curious pageant
- that took me back to Biblical days and made me remember how Vashti the
- Queen was cast down, and the beautiful Esther found favour in the sight of
- her lord, and how another tragic Hebrew Queen, going down to posterity
- with a name unjustly smirched and soiled, had once painted her face and
- tired her head, and looking out of the window had defied to the death her
- unfaithful servant. “Had Zimri peace who slew his master?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V—THE FUNERAL OF AN EMPRESS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">076</span><a name="link076" id="link076"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>A good republican—The restricted Empire of the Manchus—Condign
- punishment—Babylon—An Adventurous Chinaman—The entrance
- to the Forbidden City—The courtyards of Babylon—A discordant
- and jarring note—Choirs of priests—A living Buddha—“The
- Swanee River”—The last note in bathos—Palace eunuchs—Out
- of hand—Afternoon tea—The funeral procession—The
- imperial bier—Quaint and strange and Eastern.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Dowager-Empress
- of China, the unloved wife and widow of the late Emperor, died, so they
- gave out to the world, on the 22nd February, 1913, the day I arrived in
- China. As Empress, just one of the women of the Court chosen to please the
- ruler and to bear him children, his consort in China never seems to have
- had any particular standing. This Empress was overshadowed by her aunt,
- the great Dowager-Empress whom all the world knew, but once the Emperor
- was dead, as one of the guardians of the baby Emperor she came into a
- certain amount of power, for the position of Dowager-Empress seems to be
- an official one as, since her death, another woman who has never been wife
- to an Emperor has been appointed to the post.
- </p>
- <p>
- The power has gone from the Manchus, but China is wedded to her past,
- nothing passes, so even the Chinese Republic, the men who barely a year
- before <span class="pagenum">077</span><a name="link077" id="link077"></a>had
- ousted the Empress from her high estate, united in doing her honour at her
- obsequies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was the best republican of us all,” said a Chinese
- gentleman, learned in the lore and civilisation of the West, “for
- she freely gave up her position that China might be free.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a pretty way of putting it, but to me it seems doubtful whether
- anyone in over-civilised China trammelled with many conventions, is free,
- and it is hardly likely that a woman bred to think she had attained the
- most important position in the world that can fall to a woman's lot,
- would give it up freely for the good of a people she knew absolutely
- nothing about. All the Manchus rule over now are the courtyards and
- palaces of the Forbidden City, and there they are supreme. It is whispered
- that only a week before the day of which I write, a man was there beaten
- to death for having stolen something belonging to the dead Empress. So
- much for the love of the Manchus for freedom and enlightenment. It carries
- one back to the Middle Ages—further, to Babylon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They slew there mercilessly, and they also feasted—so did the
- representatives of the dead Empress hold high festival in her honour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The King made a feast unto all the people that were present in
- Shushan the palace, both unto great and small, seven days, in the Court in
- the garden of the King's palace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where were white, green, and blue hangings fastened with cords of
- fine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble, the beds were
- of gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and white, and black
- marble.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">078</span><a name="link078" id="link078"></a>"And
- they gave them drink in vessels of gold... and royal wine in abundance,
- according to the state of the King.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So Ahasuerus the King entertained his people of Babylon, when Vashti the
- Queen fell, and of Babylon only could I think when, first I entered the
- Forbidden City.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0129.jpg" alt="0129 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0129.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Standing on the walls of Peking, a city of the plain, you look down upon
- twelve square miles of grey-tiled roofs, the roofs of one-storied houses
- hidden in the summertime by a forest of trees, but in the heart of the
- city are high buildings that stand out not only by reason of their height
- but because the roofs of golden-brown tiles, imperial yellow, gleam and
- glow in the sunlight. This is the Forbidden City where has dwelt for
- hundreds of years the Emperor of China, often he must have been the only
- man in it, and always it was closed to all save the immediate following of
- the Son of Heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- I never realised till I came to Peking that this forbidden ground was just
- as much an object of curiosity to the Chinese as it would have been to any
- European nation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I went in once,” said a Chinese gentleman to me, “when
- I was a young man.” He was only forty then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Were you invited?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no. I went secretly. I wanted to see what it was like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I got the dress of a eunuch and I slipped in early one morning, and
- then, when I got in, I hardly dared move or breathe for fear someone
- should find me out. Then when no one took any notice of me I <span
- class="pagenum">079</span><a name="link079" id="link079"></a>walked about
- and saw everything I could, but the last hour was the worst, I was
- terrified at the thought that I might not be able to get out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if you had been caught?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked grave even then at the remembrance of that bygone desperate
- adventure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh death, certainly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Death?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, a long and lingering death,” and the thought of what he
- had escaped twenty years ago, was on his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked at him with interest, a tall stout Chinaman with his hair cut
- short in the modern fashion, a long grey robe of silk reaching to his
- feet, and a little short black sleeveless jacket over it. He did not look,
- pleasant as he was, as if he would ever have dared anything, but then I
- have never thought of any Chinaman as likely to risk his life without hope
- of gain, and to risk it for mere curiosity as a man of my own people might
- have done! It was throwing a new light on the Chinese. I rather admired
- him and then I found he was Eastern after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- We talked of Yuan Shih K'ai, and he, being of the opposition party,
- expressed his opinion freely, and, considering all things, very boldly
- about him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has eighteen wives,” said he shaking his head as if this
- was the unpardonable sin in a man who desired to imitate the manners and
- customs of the West.
- </p>
- <p>
- I repeated this to a friend, and he burst out laughing. “Why the old
- sinner,” said he, “what's he throwing stones for? He's
- got seventeen and a half himself!” <span class="pagenum">080</span><a
- name="link080_rdquo_________id_" id="link080_rdquo_________id_"></a>So it
- seems it will be some time before forbidden cities on a small scale will
- be out of fashion in China.
- </p>
- <p>
- And still, in these days of the Republic, the Forbidden City of the
- Manchus dominates Peking.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was thrown open for three days to all who could produce a black paper
- chrysanthemum with five leaves, red, yellow, blue, black, and white,
- fastened to a tab of white paper with a mourning edge and an inscription
- in Chinese characters. The foreigners had theirs from their Legations, and
- the Chinese from their guilds. And those Chinese—there are many of
- them—who are so unlucky as to belong to no guild, Chinese of the
- humbler sort, were shut out, and for them there was erected on the great
- marble bridge in front of the southern entrance, a pavilion of gorgeous
- orange silk enclosing an altar with offerings that stood before a picture
- of the dead Empress, so that all might pay their respects.
- </p>
- <p>
- I pinned my badge to the front of my fur coat, for it was keen and cold in
- spite of the brilliant sunshine, and went off to the wrong entrance, the
- eastern gate, where only princes and notables were admitted. I thought it
- strange there should be no sign of a foreigner, but foreigners in Peking
- can be but as one in a hundred or less, so undismayed, I walked straight
- up to the gate, and immediately a row of palace servants clad in their
- white robes of mourning, clustered before the sacred place. They talked
- and explained vehemently, and with perfect courtesy, but they were very
- agitated, and though I could not understand one word they said, one thing
- was certain, admitted I could not be there. So I turned to the southern
- gate and there it seemed all Peking was streaming. <span class="pagenum">081</span><a
- name="link081" id="link081"></a>It was like China that we might not go in
- the direct way.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a great paved way through the Imperial City alongside a canal
- that runs between marble-lined banks, but on the principal bridge that
- crosses it was erected the orange silk pavilion for the poorer classes,
- and we, the wearers of the black chrysanthemum, hundreds and thousands and
- ten thousands of us, had to turn off to the right and go along by the
- tall, pinkish red walls till we came to the great archways in the walls,
- five great archways filled in with doors studded with great brazen knobs.
- Usually they were fast shut, but they were open to-day, guarded by
- soldiers in full-marching order, soldiers of the New Republic in modern
- khaki looking out of the picture, and there streamed into the tunnellike
- entrance as curious a crowd as ever I set eyes upon. All must walk, old
- and young, great and lowly, representatives of the mighty nations of the
- world and tottering Chinese ladies swaying like “lilies in the wind”
- upon their maimed feet, only one man, a Mongol Prince, an Incarnation of a
- Buddha, a living Buddha, was borne in in a sedan chair. But every other
- mortal had to walk. The tunnels must always be gloomy, and, even on that
- cold day, they struck chill after the brilliant sunlight, and they are
- long, for the walls, just here, are about ninety feet through, so might
- the entrances have been in the palace of Ahasuerus the King. The courtyard
- we first entered had a causeway running right across it of great hewn
- stones, hewn and laid by slave labour, when all men bowed before the Son
- of Heaven, hundreds of years ago. They are worn in many places now, worn
- by the passing of many <span class="pagenum">082</span><a
- name="link082_rdquo_________id_" id="link082_rdquo_________id_"></a>feet,
- and still more worn are the grey Chinese bricks that pave the courtyard on
- either side. It is a great courtyard of splendid proportions. In front of
- us frowned more high walls of pinkish red, topped by the buildings that
- can be seen all over Peking, temples or halls of audience with
- golden-brown tiled roofs that gleamed in the sunlight, and on either side
- were low buildings with fronts of lattice-work rather fallen into
- disrepair. They might have been used as guard-houses or, more probably,
- were the quarters of the six thousand or so of eunuchs that the dignity of
- the ruler required to attend upon him. There were a few trees, leafless
- then in March, but there was nothing to spoil the dignity and repose of
- every line. A great mind surely conceived this entrance, and great must
- have been the minds that kept it so severely simple. If it be the heart of
- a nation then do I understand. The people who streamed along the causeway,
- who roamed over the worn brick pavement, had, as a rule, delicate, finely
- formed hands though they were but humble craftsmen. If the hands of the
- poorest be so fine, is it any wonder that the picked men of such a people,
- their very heart, conceived such a mighty pile? There were more, longer
- and gloomier tunnels, admitting to a still greater courtyard, a courtyard
- that must be at least a quarter of a mile across, with the same causeway
- of worn stones that cry out the tale of the sufferings of the forgotten
- slaves, who hewed them and dragged them into place, the same grey pavement
- of bricks, the same tall smooth red walls, crowned over the gateway with
- temples, rising one story after another till the tiled roof cuts the sky.
- And through a third set of tunnels we came into a third courtyard, <span
- class="pagenum">083</span><a name="link083_rdquo_________id_"
- id="link083_rdquo_________id_"></a>the courtyard where the obsequies were
- being held. The third courtyard was spacious as Trafalgar Square, and
- round three sides was a wide raised platform of stone reached by broad and
- easy ramps, and all across it ran a canal held in by marble banks, crossed
- by graceful bridges, and every one of the uprights, made of white marble,
- was crowned by a figure that I took for the representation of a flame; but
- those, who know, tell me it is meant to represent a cloud, and is part of
- the dragon symbolism. When marble is the medium by which so light a thing
- as a cloud is represented it must be very finely done indeed, when one
- outside the national thought, such as I, sees in that representation a
- flame. Two colossal bronze monsters with grinning countenances and curly
- manes, conventional lions, mounted on dragon-carved pedestals, stand
- before the entrance to the fourth temple or hall of audience, and here was
- what the crowd had come to see, the lighthearted, cheerful, merry crowd,
- that were making high holiday, here was the altar to the dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Overhead were the tiled roofs, and of all the colours of the rainbow
- surely none could have been chosen better than the golden brown of those
- tiles to harmonise with the clear blue of the glorious sky above it, no
- line to cut it could have been so appropriate as the gentle sweep of the
- curve of a Chinese roof. There was a little grass growing on the roofs,
- sere and withered, but a faint breeze just stirred its tops, and it toned
- with the prevailing golden brown in one glorious beauty. Where else in the
- world could one get such an effect? Only in Australia have I seen such a
- sky, and there it was never wedded to such a glow of colour as that it
- looks down <span class="pagenum">084</span><a name="link084" id="link084"></a>upon
- in Peking. The men who built this palace in a bygone age, built broadly,
- truly, for all time.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0137.jpg" alt="0137 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0137.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And then, it was surely as if some envious spirit had entered in and
- marred all this loveliness—no, that would be impossible, but struck
- a discordant and jarring note that should perhaps emphasise in our minds
- the beauty that is eternal—for all the front of that temple, which
- as far as I could see was pinkish red, with under the eaves that beautiful
- dark blue, light blue, and green, that the Chinese know so well how to
- mingle, was covered with the most garish, commonplace decorations, made
- for the most part of paper, red, violent Reckitt's blue, yellow, and
- white. From every point of vantage ran strings of flags, cheap common
- little flags of all nations, bits of string were tied to the marble
- clouds, and they fluttered from them, and the great wonderful bronze lions
- contrived to look coy in frills that would not have disgraced a Yorkshire
- ham. The altar on the northern platform was hidden behind a trellis-work
- of gaily coloured paper, and there were offerings upon it of fruit and
- cakes in great profusion, all set out before a portrait of the late
- Empress. On either side were two choirs of priests, Buddhists and Taoists
- in gorgeous robes of red and orange. What faith the dead Empress held I do
- not know, but the average Chinese, while he is the prince of materialists,
- believing nothing he cannot see and explain, has also a keen eye to the
- main chance, and on his death-bed is apt to summon priests of all faiths
- so as to let no chance of a comfortable future slip; but possibly it was
- more from motives of policy than from any idea of aiding the dead woman
- that these representatives of the two great faiths of China were <span
- class="pagenum">085</span><a name="link085" id="link085"></a>summoned. On
- the rights behind a trellis-work of bright paper, one choir sat in a
- circle, beat gongs, struck their bells and intoned; and on the left,
- behind a like trellis-work, the other choir knelt before low desks and
- also solemnly intoned. Their Mongolian faces were very impassive, they
- looked neither to the right nor the left, but kept time to the ceaseless
- beat of their leader's stick upon a globe of wood split across the
- middle like a gaping mouth emblematical of a fish and called mu yii—or
- wooden fish. What were they repeating? Prayers for the dead? Eulogies on
- her who had passed? Or comfort for the living? Not one of these things.
- Probably they were intoning Scriptures in Tibetan, an unknown tongue to
- them very likely, but come down to them through the ages and sanctified by
- thousands of ceaseless repetitions.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the people came, passed up the steps, bowed by the direction of the
- usher—in European clothes—three times to the dead Empress's
- portrait, and the altar, were thanked by General Chang, the Military
- Commandant, and passed on by the brightly clad intoning priests down into
- the crowd in the great courtyard again. It was weird to find myself taking
- part in such a ceremony. Stranger still to watch the people who went up
- and down those steps. In all the world surely never was such an
- extraordinary funeral gathering. I am very sure that never shall I attend
- such another. There was such a mingling of the ancient and the blatantly
- modern. To the sound of weird, archaic, Eastern music the living Buddha,
- clad all in yellow, in his yellow sedan chair, borne by four bearers in
- dark blue with Tartar caps on their heads, made his reverence, and was
- followed <span class="pagenum">086</span><a name="link086" id="link086"></a>by
- a band of Chinese children from some American mission school, who, with
- misguided zeal sang fervently at the top of their shrill childish voices
- “Down by the Swanee River” and “Auld Lang Syne,”
- and then soldiers in modern uniform of khaki or bright blue were followed
- by police officers in black and gold. The wrong note was struck by the
- “Swanee River,” the high officials dwelt upon it, for the
- Chinese does not look to advantage in these garbs, he looks what he is
- makeshift, a bad imitation, and the jarring was only relieved when the
- Manchu princes came in white mourning sheepskins and black Tartar caps.
- They may be dissolute and decadent, have all the vices that new China
- accuses them of, but at least they looked polished and dignified
- gentlemen, at their ease and in their place. It does not matter, possibly.
- The President once said that to petition for a monarchy was an act of
- fanaticism worthy of being punished by imprisonment, and so the old order
- must in a measure pass; even in China, the unchanging, there must come, it
- is a law of nature, some little change, and when I looked at the bows and
- arrows of the Manchu guard leaning against the wall I realised that it
- would be impossible to keep things as they were, however picturesque.
- Still khaki uniforms, if utilitarian, are ugly, and American folk-songs,
- under such conditions, struck the last note in bathos, or pathos. It
- depends on the point of view.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the white paper tabs, attached to our black chrysanthemums, was written
- something about the New Republic, but it might have been the spirit of the
- Empress at home, so cheerful and bent on enjoyment was the crowd which
- thronged the <span class="pagenum">087</span><a name="link087" id="link087"></a>courtyard.
- The bands played, sometimes Eastern music, strange and haunting, sometimes
- airs from the European operas, there were various tents erected with seats
- and tables, and refreshments were served, oranges, and ginger, and tea,
- and cakes of all kinds, both in the tents and at little altar-like stands
- dotted about the courtyard even at the very foot of the pedestals of the
- great conventional lions. And the people walked round looking at
- everything, peeping through every crevice in the hopes of seeing some part
- of the palace that was not open to them, chatting, laughing, greeting each
- other as they would have done at a garden-party in Europe. There were all
- sorts of people, dressed in all sorts of fashions. New China looked at
- best common-plage and ordinary in European clothes; old China was
- dignified in a queue, silken jacket and brocaded petticoat, generally of a
- lighter colour; Manchu ladies wore high head-dresses and brilliant silken
- coats, blue or pink, lavender or grey, and Chinese ladies tottered along
- on tiny, bound feet that reminded me of the hoofs of a deer, and the most
- fashionable, unmarried girls wore short coats with high collars covering
- their chins, and tight-fitting trousers, often of gaily coloured silk,
- while the older women added skirts, and the poorer classes just wore a
- long coat of cotton, generally blue, with trousers tightly girt in at the
- ankles, and their maimed feet in tiny little embroidered shoes. European
- dress the Chinese woman very seldom affects yet, and their jet black hair,
- plastered together with some sort of substance that makes it smooth and
- shiny, is never covered, but flowers and jewelled pins are stuck in it.
- Occasionally—I <span class="pagenum">088</span><a
- name="link088_rdquo_________id_" id="link088_rdquo_________id_"></a>did on
- this day—you will see a woman with a black embroidered band round
- the front of her head, but this, I think, denotes that she is of the Roman
- Catholic faith, for the Roman Catholics have been in China far longer than
- any other Christian sect, and they invented this head-dress for the
- Chinese woman who for ages has been accustomed to wear none, because of
- the Pauline injunction, that it was a shame for a woman to appear in a
- church with her head uncovered. Old China did not approve of a woman going
- about much at all, and here at this funeral I heard many old China hands
- remarking how strange it was to see so many women mingling with the
- throng. It marked the change; but such a very short time back, such a
- thing would have been impossible.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were numbers of palace eunuchs too—keepers of the women who,
- apparently, may now show their faces to all men, and they were clad all in
- the mourning white, with here and there one, for some reason or other I
- cannot fathom, in black. The demand for eunuchs was great when the Emperor
- dwelt, the one man, in the Forbidden City surrounded by his women, and
- they say that very often the number employed rose to ten thousand.
- Constantly, as some in the ranks grew old, fell sick, or died, they had to
- be replaced, and, so conservative is China, the recruits were generally
- drawn from certain villages whose business it was to supply the palace
- eunuchs. Often, of course, the operation was performed in their infancy,
- but often, very often, a man was allowed to grow up, marry, and have
- children, before he was made ready for the palace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible,” I said, “he would not consent <span
- class="pagenum">089</span><a name="link089" id="link089"></a>then. Never.”
- And my informant laughed pitifully. “Ah,” said she, “you
- don't know the struggle in China. Anything for a livelihood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Some of the eunuchs wanted their photographs taken, and I was willing
- enough if they would only give me room. I wanted one in white, but they
- desired one in black, either because he was the most important or the
- least important, I know not which, and they sat him on a stone that had
- been a seat perhaps when Kublai Khan built the palace; and the keeper of
- the women, the representative of the old cruel past, that pressed men and
- women alike into the service of the great, looked in my camera sheepish as
- a schoolboy kissed in public by his maiden aunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were coolies, too, in the ordinary blue cotton busy about the work
- that the entertaining of such a multitude necessarily entails, and
- everyone looked cheerful and happy, as, after all, why should they not,
- for death is the common lot, and must come to all of us, and they had seen
- and heard of the dead Empress about as much as the dweller in Chicago had.
- They were merely taking what she, or her representatives, gave with frank
- goodwill, and enjoying themselves accordingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Against the walls they kept putting up long scrolls covered with Chinese
- characters, sentences in praise of the virtues of the Empress, and sent,
- as we would send funeral wreaths, to honour the dead, and presently a wind
- arose and tore at them and they fluttered out from the walls like long
- streamers, and as the wind grew wilder, some were tom down altogether. But
- that was on the afternoon of the second day, when worse things happened.
- <span class="pagenum">090</span><a name="link090" id="link090"></a>I went
- down to the Forbidden City after tiffin, and behold, outside the great
- gates, looking up longingly and murmuring a little, was a great crowd that
- grew momentarily greater. The doors, studded with brazen nails, were fast
- closed, and little parties of soldiers with their knapsacks upon their
- backs were evidently telling the crowd to keep back, and very probably,
- since it was China, the reason why they should keep back. The reason was,
- of course, lost upon me, I only knew that, before I realised what was
- happening, I was in the centre of a crushing crowd that was gradually
- growing more unmanageable. A Chinese crowd is wonderfully good-natured,
- far better-tempered than a European crowd of a like size would be, but
- when a crowd grows great, it is hardly responsible for its actions.
- Besides, a Chinese crowd has certain little unpleasant habits. The men
- picked up the little children, for the tiniest tots came to this great
- festival, and held them on their shoulders, but they coughed, and hawked,
- and spit, and wiped their noses in the primitive way Adam probably did
- before he thought of using a fig-leaf as a pocket handkerchief, and at
- last I felt that the only thing to be done was to edge my way to the
- fringe of the press, because, even if the doors were opened, it would have
- seemed like taking my life in my hands to go into one of those tunnels
- with their uneven pavements in such a crush. Once down it would be
- hopeless to think of getting up again.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">091</span><a name="link091" id="link091"></a>After a
- time, however, they did open the doors, and the people surged in. When all
- was clear I followed, and once inside heard how the people in the great
- courtyard, in spite of police and soldiers, had swarmed up and threatened
- by their rush, the good-natured, purposeless rush of a crowd, to carry
- away offerings, altar, choirs and decorations, and, very naturally, those
- in authority had closed the doors against all new-comers until the people
- had been got well in hand again. It had taken some time. Before the altar
- was a regular scrimmage, and after the crowd had passed it left behind it,
- shoes, and caps, and portions of its clothing which were thrown back into
- the courtyard to be gathered up by those who could recognise their own
- property. By the time I arrived things were settling down. We had to wait
- in the second courtyard, and the women, Chinese ladies with their little
- aching feet, and Manchus in their high head-dresses sat themselves down on
- the edge of the causeway, because standing on pavement is wearisome, and
- there waited patiently till the doors were opened, and inside everything
- was soon going again as gaily as at an ordinary garden-party in Somerset.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0145.jpg" alt="0145 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0145.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “Do you like Chinese tea?” asked a Chinese lady of me in slow
- and stilted English. I said I did.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come,” said she, taking my hand in her cold little one, and
- hand in hand we walked, or rather I walked and she tottered, across to one
- of the great pavilions that had been erected, and there she sat me down
- and a cup of the excellent tea was brought me, and every one of the
- Chinese ladies present, out of the kindly hospitality of her heart towards
- the lonely foreigner, gave me, with her own fair and shapely little hands,
- a cake from the dish that was set before us by a white-clad servant.
- Frankly, I wished they wouldn't be so hospitable. I wanted to say I
- was quite capable of choosing my own cake, <span class="pagenum">092</span><a
- name="link092_rdquo_________id_" id="link092_rdquo_________id_"></a>and
- that I had a rooted objection to other people pawing the food I intended
- to eat, but it seemed it might be rude, and I did not wish to nip kindly
- feelings in the bud. And then, as the evening shadows drew long, I went
- back to my hotel, sorry to leave the Forbidden City, glad to have had this
- one little glimpse of the strange and wonderful that is bound to pass
- away.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Empress died in February, in March they held this, can we call it
- lying-in-state, but it was not till the 3rd of April that her funeral
- cortège moved from the Forbidden City, and the streets of Peking were
- thronged with those who came to pay her respect. Did they mourn? Well, I
- don't know. Hardly, I think, was it mourning in the technical sense.
- The man in the street in England is far enough away from the king on the
- throne, but in China it seems as if he might inhabit a different sphere.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sky was a cloudless blue, and the bright golden sunshine poured down
- hot as a July day in England, or a March day in Australia, there was not a
- wisp of cloud in the sky; in all the five weeks that I had been in China
- there had never been the faintest indication that such a thing was ever
- expected, ever known, but at first the brilliancy had been cold, now it
- was warm, the winter was past, and from the great Tartar wall, looking
- over the Tartar City—the city that the Mings conquered and the
- Manchus made their own—the forest of trees that hid the furthest
- houses was all tinged with the faintest, daintiest green; and soon to the
- glory of blue and gold, the blue of the sky and the gold of the sunshine,
- would be added the vivid green that <span class="pagenum">093</span><a
- name="link093" id="link093"></a>tells of the new-born life. And one woman
- who had held high place here, one sad woman, who had missed most that was
- good in fife, if rumours be true, was to be carried to her long home that
- day.
- </p>
- <p>
- The funeral procession started from the Eastern Gate of the Forbidden
- City, came slowly down the broad street known now as Morrison Street,
- turned into the way that passes the Legations and runs along by the glacis
- whereon the conquering Western nations have declared that, for their
- safety, no Chinese shall build a house, the Europeans call it the Viale d'ltalia,
- because it passes by the Italian Legation, and the Chinese by the more
- euphonious name of Chang an Cheeh—the street of Eternal Repose—a
- curious commentary on the fighting that went on there in 1900, into the
- Chien Men Street, that is the street of the main gate through which it
- must go to the railway station.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed to me strange this ruler of an ancient people, buried with weird
- and barbaric rites, was to be taken to her last resting-place by the
- modern railway, that only a very few years ago her people, at the height
- of their anti-foreign feeling, had wished to oust from the country—root
- and branch. But since the funeral procession was going to the railway
- station it must pass through the Chien Men, and the curtain wall that ran
- round the great gate offered an excellent point of vantage from which I,
- with the rest of the European population, might see all there was to be
- seen. And for this great occasion, the gate in the south of the curtain
- wall, the gate that is always shut because only the highest in the land
- may pass through, was open, <span class="pagenum">094</span><a
- name="link094" id="link094"></a>for the highest in the land, the last of
- the Manchu rulers, was dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked down into the walled-in space between the four gateway arches, as
- into an arena, and the whole pageant passed below me. First of all
- marching with deliberate slowness, that contrives to be dignified if they
- are only carrying coals, came about twenty camels draped in imperial
- yellow with tails of sable, also an imperial badge hanging from their
- necks. The Manchus were a hunting people, and though they have been
- dwellers in towns for the last two hundred and fifty years the fact was
- not forgotten now that their last ruler had died. She was going on a
- journey, a long, long journey; she might want to rest by the way,
- therefore her camels bore tent-poles and tents of the imperial colour.
- They held their heads high and went noiselessly along, pad, pad, pad, as
- their like have gone to and fro from Peking for thousands of years.
- Mongol, or Manchu, or son of Han, it is all the same to the camel. He
- ministers to man's needs because he must, but he himself is
- unchanging as the ages, fixed in his way as the sky above, whether he
- bears grain from the north, or coal from the Western Hills, or tents and
- drapery for an imperial funeral. Then there were about fifty white ponies,
- without saddle or trapping of any kind, each led by a mafoo clad in blue
- like an ordinary coolie. The Peking carts that followed with wheels and
- tilts of yellow were of a past age, but, after all, does not the King of
- Great Britain and Ireland on State occasions ride in a most old-world
- coach. And then I noticed things came in threes. <span class="pagenum">095</span><a
- name="link095" id="link095"></a>Three carts, three yellow palankeens full
- of artificial flowers, three sedan chairs also yellow covered, and all
- around these groups were attendants clad in shimmering rainbow muslin and
- thick felt hats, from the pointed crown of which projected long yellow
- feathers. Slowly, slowly, the procession moved on, broken now and again by
- bands of soldiers in full marching order. There was a troop of cavalry of
- the Imperial Guard they told me, but how could it be imperial when their
- five-coloured lance pennons fluttering gaily in the air, clearly denoted
- the New Republic? There was a detachment of mounted police in black and
- yellow—the most modern of uniforms—there were more attendants
- in gaily coloured robes carrying wooden halberds, embroidered fans,
- banners, and umbrellas, and the yellow palankeens with the artificial
- flowers were escorted by Buddhist lamas in yellow robes crossed with
- crimson sashes, each with a stick of smouldering incense in his hand. In
- those palankeens were the dead woman's seals, her power, the power
- that she must now give up. I could see the smoke, and the scent of the
- incense rose to our nostrils as we stood on the wall forty feet above.
- Between the various groups, between the yellow lamas who dated from the
- days of the Buddha long before the Christ, between the khaki-clad troops
- and the yellow and black police, things of yesterday, came palace
- attendants tossing into the air white paper discs. The dead Empress would
- want money for her journey, and here it was, distributed with a lavish
- hand. It was only white paper, blank and soiled by the dust of the road,
- when I picked it up a little later on, but for her it would serve all
- purposes.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0151.jpg" alt="0151 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0151.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The approach of the bier itself was heralded by the striking together of
- two slabs of wood by a <span class="pagenum">096</span><a
- name="link096_rdquo_________id_" id="link096_rdquo_________id_"></a>couple
- of attendants, and before it came, clad all in the white of mourning, the
- palace eunuchs who had guarded her privacy when in life; a few Court
- attendants in black, and then between lines of khaki-uniformed modern
- infantry in marching order, the bier covered with yellow satin, vivid,
- brilliant, embroidered with red phoenixes that marked her high rank—the
- dragon for the Emperor, the phoenix for his consort. The two pieces of
- wood clacked together harshly and the enormous bier moved on. It was
- mounted on immense yellow poles and borne by eighty men dressed in
- brilliant robes of variegated muslin, red being the predominating colour.
- They wore hats with yellow feathers coming out of the crown, and they
- staggered under their burden, as might the slaves in Nineveh or Babylon
- have faltered and groaned beneath their burdens, two thousand years ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- Out of the northern archway came the camels and the horses, the soldiers,
- the lamas, the eunuchs, out came all the quaint gay paraphernalia—umbrellas,
- and fans, palankeens, and sedan chairs, and banners—and slowly
- crossed the great courtyard, the arena; a stop, a long pause, then on
- again, and the southern gate swallowed them up, again the clack of the
- strips of wood, and the mighty bier, borne on the shoulders of the
- Babylonish slaves. Slowly, slowly, then it stood still, and we felt as if
- it must stay there for ever, as if the eighty men who upheld it must be
- suffering unspeakable things. Once more the clack of the strips of wood,
- and the southern archway in due course swallowed it up, too, with the few
- halberdiers and the detachment of soldiery who completed the procession.
- <span class="pagenum">097</span><a name="link097" id="link097"></a>Outside
- the Chien Men was the railway station, the crowded people—crowded
- like Chinese flies in summer, and that is saying a great deal—were
- cleared away by the soldiers, the bier was lifted on to a car, the bands
- struck up a weird funeral march, the soldiers presented arms, the lama
- priests fell on their knees, and then very, very slowly the train steamed
- out of the station, and the last of the Manchu Empresses was borne to her
- long home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Was it impressive I asked myself as I went down the ramp? And the answer
- was a little difficult to find. Quaint and strange and Eastern, for the
- thing that has struck me so markedly in China was here marked as ever. It
- was like the paper money that was thrown with such lavish generosity into
- the air. Amongst all the magnificence was the bizarre note—that
- discordant touch of tawdriness. Beneath the gorgeous robes of the
- attendants, plainly to be seen, were tatters and uncleanliness, the
- soldiers in their ill-fitting uniforms looked makeshift, and the police
- wanted dusting. And yet—and again I must say and yet, for want of
- better words—behind it all was some reality, something that gripped
- like the haunting sound of the dirge, or the stately march of the camels
- that have defied all change.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI—A TIME OF REJOICING
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">098</span><a name="link098" id="link098"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The charm of Peking—A Chinese theatre—Electric light—The
- custodian of the theatre—Bargaining for a seat—The orchestra—The
- scenery of Shakespeare—Realistic gesture—A city wall—A
- mountain spirit—Gorgeous dresses—Bundles of towels—Women's
- gallery—Armed patrols—Rain in April—The food of the
- peasant—Famine—The value of a daughter—God be thanked.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Legation
- Quarter in Peking, as I was reminded twenty times a day, is not China, it
- is not even Peking, but it is a pleasant place in which to stay; a place
- where one may foregather and exchange ideas with one's kind, and yet
- whence one may go forth and see all Peking; more, may see places where
- still the foreigner is something to be stared at, and wondered at, and
- where the old, unchanging civilisation still goes on. Ordinarily if you
- would see something new, something that gives a fresh sensation, it is
- necessary to go out from among your kind and brave discomfort, or spend a
- small fortune to guard against that discomfort, but here, in Peking, you
- who are interested in such things may see an absolutely new world, and yet
- have all the comforts, except reading matter, to which you have been
- accustomed in London. It was no wonder I lingered in Peking. Always there
- was something <span class="pagenum">099</span><a
- name="link099_rdquo_________id_" id="link099_rdquo_________id_"></a>new to
- see, always there was something fresh to learn, and at any moment, within
- five minutes, I could step out into another world, the world of Marco
- Polo, the world the Jesuit Fathers saw when first the Western nations were
- beginning to realise there were any countries besides their own.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0157.jpg" alt="0157 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0157.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- There are people—I have heard them—who complain that Peking is
- dull. Do not believe them. But, after all, perhaps I am not the best
- judge. As a young girl, trammelled by trying to do the correct thing and
- behave as a properly brought up young lady ought, I have sometimes, say at
- an afternoon call when I hope I was behaving prettily, found life dull,
- but since I have gone my own way I have been sad sometimes, lonely often,
- but dull never, and for that God be thanked. But Peking, I think, would be
- a very difficult place in which to be really dull.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is even possible to go to the theatre every night, but it is a Chinese
- theatre and that will go a long way. Nevertheless, I felt it was a thing I
- should like to see; so one evening two of my friends took me to the best
- theatre that was open. The best was closed for political reasons they
- said, because the new Government, not as sure of itself as it would like
- to be, did not wish the people to assemble together. This was a minor
- theatre, a woman's theatre; that is one where only women were the
- actors, quite a new departure in the Celestial world, for until about a
- year before the day of which I write, no woman was ever seen upon the
- stage, and her parts, as they were in the old days in Europe, were taken
- by men and boys. Even now, men and women never appear on the stage
- together, never, never do the sexes <span class="pagenum">100</span><a
- name="link100_rdquo_________id_" id="link100_rdquo_________id_"></a>mingle
- in China, and the women who act take the very lowest place in the social
- scale.
- </p>
- <p>
- One cold night in March three rickshaws put us down at an open doorway in
- the Chinese City outside the Tartar wall. The Chinese the greatest
- connoisseurs of pictures do not as yet think much of posters, though the
- British and American Tobacco Company is doing its best to educate them up
- to that level, so outside this theatre the door was not decorated with
- photographs of the lovely damsels to be seen within, clad in as few
- clothes as the censor will allow, but the intellects of the patrons were
- appealed to, and all around the doors were bright red sheets of paper, on
- which the delights offered for the evening were inscribed in characters of
- gold.
- </p>
- <p>
- We went along a narrow passage with a floor of hard, beaten earth, and
- dirty whitewashed walls on either side, along such a passage I could
- imagine went those who first listened to the sayings of Hamlet, Prince of
- Denmark. The light was dim, the thrifty Chinaman was not going to waste
- the precious and expensive light of compressed gas where it was not really
- needed, and from behind the wall came the weird strains of Chinese music.
- There appeared to be only one door, and here sat a fat and smiling
- Chinese, who explained to my friends that by the rules of the theatre, the
- men and women were divided, and that I must go to the women's
- gallery. They demurred. It would be very dull for me, who could not
- understand a word of the language, to sit alone. Could no exception be
- made in my favour? The doorkeeper was courteous as only a Chinese can be,
- and said that for his part, <span class="pagenum">101</span><a
- name="link101_rdquo_________id_" id="link101_rdquo_________id_"></a>he had
- no objection; but the custodian of the theatre, put there by the
- Government to ensure law and order, would object.
- </p>
- <p>
- I wanted badly to stay with these men who could explain to me all that was
- going on, so we sent for the custodian, another smiling gentleman, not
- quite so fat, in the black and yellow uniform of the military police. He
- listened to all we had to say, sympathised, but declared that the
- regulations must be carried out. My friends put it to him that the
- regulations were archaic, and that it was high time they were altered. He
- smilingly agreed. They were archaic, very; but then you see, they were the
- regulations. He was here to see that they were carried out, and he
- suggested, as an alternative, that we should take one of the boxes at the
- side. The question of sitting in front was dismissed, and we gave
- ourselves to the consideration of a box for which six dollars, that is
- twelve shillings English currency, or three dollars American, were
- demanded. We demurred, it seems you always question prices in China. We
- told the doorkeeper that the price was very high, and that as we were
- sitting where we did not wish to sit, he ought to come down. He did.
- Shades of Keith and Prowse! Two dollars!
- </p>
- <p>
- We went up some steep and narrow steps of the most primitive order, were
- admitted to a large hall lighted by compressed gas—in Cambulac! here
- in the heart of an ancient civilisation—surrounded by galleries with
- fronts of a dainty lattice-work of polished wood, such as the Chinese
- employ for windows, and we took our places in a box, humbly furnished with
- bare benches and a wooden table. Just beneath us was the stage, and the
- play was in <span class="pagenum">102</span><a name="link102" id="link102"></a>full
- swing—actors, property men, and orchestra all on at once. It was
- large and square, raised a little above the people in the body of the hall
- and surrounded by a little low screen of the same dainty lattice-work. At
- the back was the orchestra, composed only of men in ordinary coolie dress—dark
- blue cotton—with long queues. There were castanets, and a drum,
- cymbals, native fiddle, and various brazen instruments that looked like
- brass trays, and they all played untiringly, with an energy worthy of a
- better cause, and with the apparent intention—it couldn't have
- been so really—of drowning the actors. Yet taken altogether the
- result was strangely quaint and Eastern.
- </p>
- <p>
- The entertainment consisted of a number of little plays lasting from half
- an hour to about an hour. There were never more than half a dozen people
- on the stage at once, very often only two in the play altogether, and what
- it was all about we could only guess after all, for even my friends, who
- could speak ordinary Chinese fluently, could not understand much that was
- said. Possibly this was because every actor, instead of using the ordinary
- conversational tone, adapted as we adapt it to the stage, used a high,
- piercing falsetto that was extremely unnatural, and reminded me of nothing
- on this earth that I know of except perhaps a pig-killing. Still even I
- gathered something of the story of the play as it progressed, for the
- gestures of these women, unlike their voices, were extremely dramatic, and
- some of the situations were not to be mistaken. Scenery was as it was in
- Shakespeare's day. It was understood. But for all the bare crudity,
- the dresses of the actors which belonged to a previous age, <span
- class="pagenum">103</span><a name="link103" id="link103"></a>whether they
- were supposed to represent men or women, were most rich and beautiful. The
- general, with his hideously painted face and his long black beard of
- thread, wore a golden embroidered robe that must have been worth a small
- fortune; a soldier, apparently a sort of Dugald Dalgety, who pits himself
- against a scholar clad in modest dark colours, appeared in a blue satin of
- the most delicate shade, beautifully embroidered with gorgeous lotus
- flowers and palms; and the principal ladies, who were really rather pretty
- in spite of their highly painted faces and weird head-dresses, wore robes
- of delicate loveliness that one of my companions, whose business it was to
- know about such matters, told me must have been, like the general's,
- of great value. The comic servant or country man wore a short jumper and a
- piece of white paper and powder about his nose. It certainly did make him
- look funny. The dignified scholar was arrayed all in black, the soldier
- wore the gayest of embroidered silks and satins, the landlady of the inn
- or boarding-house, a pleasant, smiling woman with roses in her hair and
- tiny maimed feet, had a pattern of black lace-work painted on her
- forehead, and when the male characters had to be very fierce indeed, they
- wore long and flowing beards, beards to which no Chinaman, I fear me, can
- ever hope to attain, for the Chinaman is not a hairy man. When a gallant
- gentleman with tight sleeves which proclaimed him a warrior, and a long
- beard of bright red thread which made him a very fierce warrior indeed,
- snapped his fingers and lifted up his legs, lifted them up vehemently, you
- knew that he was getting over a wall or mounting his horse. You could take
- your choice. A mountain, the shady <span class="pagenum">104</span><a
- name="link104" id="link104"></a>side of it, was represented by one panel
- of a screen which leaned drunkenly against a very ordinary chair, giving
- shelter to a very evil spirit with a dress that represented a leopard, and
- a face of the grimmest and most terrifying of those animals.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was a play that required much property to be displayed, for a general
- with a face painted all black and white and long black beard, with his
- army of five, took refuge behind a stout city wall that was made of thin
- blue cotton stuff supported on four bamboo poles, and this convenient wall
- marched on to the stage in the hands of a couple of stout coolies. A
- wicked mountain spirit outside the walls did terrible things. Ever and
- again flashes of fire burst out after his speech, and I presume you were
- not supposed to see the coolie who manipulated that fire, though he stood
- on the stage as large as any actors in the piece.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is hard, too, talking in that high falsetto against the shrieking,
- strident notes of the music, so naturally the actors constantly required a
- little liquid refreshment, and an attendant was prompt in offering tea in
- tiny round basins; and nobody saw anything incongruous in his standing
- there with the teapot handy, and in slack moments taking a sip himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fun apparently consisted in repartee, and every now and then, the
- audience, who were silent and engrossed, instead of applauding
- spontaneously, ejaculated, as if at a word of command, “Hao!”
- which means “Good!”
- </p>
- <p>
- That audience was the best-behaved and most attentive I have ever seen. It
- consisted mostly of men, as far as I could see, of the middle class. <span
- class="pagenum">105</span><a name="link105" id="link105"></a>They were
- packed close together, with here and there a little table or bench among
- them; and up and down went vendors of apples, oranges, pieces of
- sugar-cane, cakes and sweetmeats.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were also people who supplied hot, damp towels. A man stood here and
- there in the audience, and from the outer edge of the theatre, came
- hurtling to him, over the heads of the people, a bundle of these towels.
- For a cent or so apiece he distributed them, the members of the audience
- taking a refreshing wipe of face and head and hands and handing the towels
- back. When the purveyor of the towels had used up all his stock, and got
- them all back again, he tied them up into a neat bundle, and threw them
- back the way they had come, receiving a fresh stock in return. Never did a
- bundle of towels fail in reaching its appointed place, and scores of cents
- must the providers have pocketed. For the delight of ventilation is not
- appreciated in China, and to say that theatre was stuffy is a mild way of
- putting it. The warm wet towel must have given a sort of refreshment. They
- offered us some up in the dignified seclusion of our box, but we felt we
- could sustain life without washing our faces with doubtful towels during
- the progress of the entertainment. Tea was brought, too, excellent Chinese
- tea, and I drank it with pleasure. I drink Chinese tea without either milk
- or sugar as a matter of course now; but that night at the Chinese theatre
- I was only trying it and wondering could I drink it at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Opposite us was the women's gallery, full of Chinese and Manchu
- ladies, with high headdresses and highly painted faces. The Chinese ladies
- often paint their faces, but their attempts at <span class="pagenum">106</span><a
- name="link106" id="link106"></a>decoration pale before that of the
- Manchus, who put on the colour with such right goodwill that every woman
- when she is dressed in her smartest, looks remarkably like a sign-board.
- The wonder is that anyone could possibly be found who could admire the
- unnatural effect. Someone, I suppose, there is, or it would not be done,
- but no men went near the women's gallery that evening. It would have
- been the grossest breach of decorum for a man to do any such thing, and
- the painted ladies drank their tea by themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- Somewhere about midnight, earlier than usual, consequent, I imagine, upon
- the disturbed state of the country, the entertainment ended with a perfect
- crash of music, and the most orderly audience in the world went out into
- the streets of the Chinese City, into the clear night. Only in very recent
- years, they tell me, have the streets of Peking been lighted. Formerly the
- people went to bed at dusk, but they seem to have taken very kindly to the
- change, for the streets were thronged. There were people on foot, people
- in rickshaws, people in the springless Peking carts, and important
- personages with outriders and footmen in the glass broughams beloved by
- the Chinese; and there were the military police everywhere, now at night
- with rifles across their shoulders. Here, disciplining this most orderly
- crowd, they struck me as being strangely incongruous. I wondered at those
- police then, and I wonder still. What are they for? Whatever the reason,
- there they were at every few yards. Never have I had such a strange
- home-coming from a theatre. Down on us forty feet high frowned the walls
- built in past ages, we crossed the Beggars' <span class="pagenum">107</span><a
- name="link107" id="link107"></a>Bridge of glorious marble, we went under
- the mighty archway of the Chien Men, and we entered the Legation Quarter
- guarded like a fortress, and I went to bed meditating on the difference
- between a Chinese play and a modern musical comedy. They have, I fancy,
- one thing in common. They are interesting enough to see for the first
- time, but a little of them goes a long way.
- </p>
- <p>
- I went to bed under a clear and cloudless sky, and the next morning, to my
- astonishment, it was raining. I have, of course, seen rain many, many
- times, and many, many times have I seen heavier rain than fell all this
- April day in Peking, but never before, not even in my own country where
- rain is the great desideratum, have I seen rain better worth recording.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was indeed this April day rain at last!
- </p>
- <p>
- “To everything there is a season,” says the preacher, and the
- spring is the time for a little rain in Northern China. In England people
- suppose it rains three hundred and sixty days out of the three hundred and
- sixty-five, except in Leap Year when we manage to get in another rainy
- day, but as a matter of fact, I believe the average is about one hundred
- and fifty wet days in the year, with a certain number more in which clouds
- in the sky blot out the sunshine. In the north of China, on the other
- hand, there had been, to all intents and purposes, no cloud in the sky
- since the summer rains of 1912, till this rain in April which I looked out
- upon. Is not rain like that worth recording? Still more do I feel it is
- worth recording when I think of what that day's rain, that seemed so
- little to me, meant to millions of people. All through the bitter cold
- winter the <span class="pagenum">108</span><a name="link108" id="link108"></a>country
- lay in the grip of the frost, but the sun reigned in a heaven of peerless
- blue, and the light was brilliant with a brilliancy that makes the
- sunshine of a June day in England a poor, pale thing. The people counted
- for their crops on the rain that would come in due season, the rain in the
- spring. March came with the thaw, and the winds from the north lifted the
- loose soil into the air in clouds of dust. But March passed alternating
- brilliant sunshine and clouds of dust, and there was never a cloud in the
- sky, never a drop of moisture for the gasping earth. April came—would
- it go on like this till June? Rain that comes in due season is necessary
- to the crops that are the wealth, nay the very life of Northern China.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the beams of the peasant's cottage hang the cobs of corn, each
- one counted; in jars or boxes is his little store of grain, millet—just
- bird-seed in point of fact—he has a few dried persimmons perhaps and—nothing
- else. Twice a day the housewife measures out the grain for the meal—she
- knows, the tiniest child in the household knows exactly how long it will
- last with full measure, how it may be spun out over a few more dreary,
- hunger-aching days, how then, if the rain has not come, if the crops have
- failed, famine will stalk in the land, famine, cruel, pitiless, and from
- his grip there is no escaping.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0169.jpg" alt="0169 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0169.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Think of it, as I did that April day in Peking, when I watched the rain
- pelting down. Think of the dumb, helpless peasant watching the cloudless
- blue sky and the steadily diminishing store of grain, watching, hoping,
- for the faintest wisp of white cloud that shall give promise of a little
- moisture. <span class="pagenum">109</span><a name="link109" id="link109"></a>They
- tell me, those who know, that the Chinaman is a fatalist, that he never
- looks so far ahead, but do they not judge him with Western eyes? True he
- seldom complains, but he tills his fields so carefully that he must see in
- imagination the crops they are to produce, he must know, how can he help
- knowing, that if there be no harvest, there is an end to his home, his
- family, his children; that if perchance his life be spared, it will be
- grey and empty, broken, desolate, scarce worth living. Every scanty
- possession will have to be sold to buy food in a ruinously high market,
- even the loved children, and no one who has seen them together can doubt
- that the Chinese deeply love their children, must go, though for the
- little daughter whose destination will be a brothel of one of the great
- cities, but two dollars, four pitiful shillings, may be hoped for, and
- when that is eaten up, the son sold into slavery will bring very little
- more. To sell their children sounds terrible, but what can they do? Some
- must be sacrificed that the others may have a chance of life, and even if
- they are not sacrificed, their fate is to die slowly under the bright sky,
- in the relentless sunshine. This is the spectre that haunts the peasant.
- This is the thing that has befallen his fathers, that has befallen him,
- that may befall him again any year, that no care on his part can guard him
- from, that the clear sky for ever threatens.
- </p>
- <p>
- “From plague, pestilence and famine, Good Lord deliver us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Does ever that Litany to the Most High go up in English cathedral with
- such prayerful fervour, such thorough realisation of what is meant by the
- <span class="pagenum">110</span><a name="link110" id="link110"></a>supplication,
- as is in the heart of the peasant mother in China, carefully measuring out
- the grain for the meal. Only she would put it the other way. “F rom
- famine, and the plague and pestilence that stalk in the wake of the
- famine, oh pitiful, merciful God deliver us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And when I took all this in, when I heard men who had seen the suffering
- describe it, was it any wonder that I rejoiced at the dull grey sky, at
- the sound of the rain on the roof, at the water rushing down the gutters.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the gently sloping hill-sides of Manchuria, where they grow the famous
- bean, the hill-sides that I had seen in their winter array, on the wide
- plains of Mongolia, where only the far horizon bounds the view, and you
- march on to a yet farther horizon where the Mongol tends his flocks and
- herds, and the industrious Chinaman, pushing out beyond the protecting
- wall, has planted beans and sown oats, in Honan, where the cotton and the
- maize and the kaoliang grow, all along the gardens and grain-fields of
- Northern China, had come the revivifying rain. The day before, under the
- blue sky, lay the bare brown earth, acres and acres, miles and miles of
- it, carefully tilled, nowhere in the world have I seen such carefully
- tilled land, full of promise, but of promise only, of a rich harvest.
- Then, not hoped for so late, a boon hardly to be prayed for, welcome as
- sunshine never was welcome, came the rain, six hours steady rain, and the
- spectre of famine, ever so close to the Chinese peasant, for a time
- drifted into the background with old, unhappy, long-forgotten things. Next
- morning on all the khaki-coloured country outside Peking was a tinge of
- <span class="pagenum">111</span><a name="link111" id="link111"></a>green,
- and we knew that a bountiful harvest was ensured, knew that soon the
- country would be a beautiful emerald. The house-mother, the patient,
- uncomplaining, ignorant, Chinese house-mother, might fill her pot
- joyfully, the house-father might look at his little daughter, with the red
- thread twisted in her hair, and know, that for a year at least, she was
- safe in his sheltering arms, for the blessed rain had come, God given.
- </p>
- <p>
- Peking in the rain is an uncomfortable place. It is built for the
- sunshine. The streets of the city were knee-deep in mud, the hu t'ungs
- were impassable for a man on foot unless he would be mud up to the knees,
- for there had been six hours solid downpour, and every moment it continued
- was worth pounds to the country. What was a twenty-five million loan with
- its heavy interest, against such a rain as this? More than one hundred
- thousand people were affected by the downpour, were glad and rejoicing
- that day at the good-fortune that had befallen them. This mass of human
- beings, at the very lowest computation had considerably more than
- twenty-five million pounds rained down upon it in the course of six hours.
- There came with that rain, that blurred the windows of my room, prosperity
- for the land, and, for a time at least, peace, for peace and good harvests
- in China are sometimes interchangeable terms. What did it matter to
- Northern China at that moment that the nations were bickering over the
- loan, that America was promising, Britain hesitating, Russia threatening?
- What did it matter whether Emperor, President, or Dictator, was in power?
- What did it matter that the national representatives hesitated to come to
- the capital? <span class="pagenum">112</span><a name="link112" id="link112"></a>What
- did it matter what mistakes they made? What does the peasant tilling his
- field, the woman filling her cooking-pot know about these things? What do
- they care? A mightier factor than these, a greater power than man's
- had stepped in. God be thanked, in China that day it rained.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII—ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">113</span><a name="link113" id="link113"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Courteous Americans—Nankou Pass—Beacon towers—Inaccessible
- hills—“Balbus has built a wall”—Tiny towns—“Watchman,
- what of the night?”—Deserted watch-towers—-Thoughtful
- Chinese waiter—Ming Tombs—Chinese carrying chair—Stony
- way—Greatest p'ia lou in China—Amphitheatre among the
- barren hills—Tomb of Yung Lo—Trunks of sandal-wood trees—Enterprising
- Chinese guard.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>herever I might
- wander in China, and with the rumours of war that were in the air, it
- looked as if my wanderings were going to be somewhat restricted, to one
- place I was bound to wander, and that was the Great Wall of China. Even in
- the days of my grandmother's curios, I had heard about that, one of
- the wonders of the world, and I could never have left China without seeing
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can do it in a couple of days,” said the young man, who
- had chastened me gently when first I entered Peking. “I'm
- going up on Tuesday, You'd better come along. The poet's
- coming too,” he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">114</span><a name="link114" id="link114"></a>The
- poet, a real live poet, who thought a deal more about his binding than his
- public, was like me I think, he did not like seeing places in crowds, and
- at first he did not give us much of his society. There was also a
- millionaire, an American millionaire, his little wife, his big daughter,
- and his angular <span class="pagenum">114</span><a
- name="link114_rdquo_________id_" id="link114_rdquo_________id_"></a>maiden
- sister. They had an observation-car fixed on to the train, and the guard
- came along and said that if we ordinary travellers, who were not
- millionaires, cared to come in the car, the millionaire would be very
- pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have travelled so much by myself that the chance of congenial company
- once in a way was delightful, but I did feel we ought not to have taken
- the train to the Nankou Pass. A mule litter, or a Peking cart would have
- been so much more suitable. However, it is as well to be as comfortable as
- possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the north came China's foes, the sturdy horsemen from Mongolia,
- the mountain men from the Manchurian Hills, and because the peaceful,
- industrious inhabitants of the rich; alluvial plains feared greatly the
- raiders, they, just at the Nankou Pass, where these inaccessible hills
- might be passed, built watch-towers and kept ward. There they stand, even
- to this day, upon jutting peaks where the pass opens into the plain, grey
- stone watch-towers with look-outs and slits for the archers, and
- beacon-towers which could flash the fiery warning that should rouse the
- country to the south. For thirteen miles we went up the pass, the cleft
- that the stream, babbling cheerfully now in April over its water-worn
- rocks, has carved for itself through the stony hills, and its weird beauty
- never palls.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">115</span><a name="link115" id="link115"></a>Always
- there were the hills, broken to pieces, tossed together by the hand of a
- giant, there were great clefts in them, vistas looking up stony and
- inaccessible valleys, gullies that are black as if a burning fiery furnace
- had been set in their midst, little pockets where the stream widened and
- there was a patch of green pasture, some goats grazing, a small, neat
- farm-house and fruit-trees, pink and white, almond, peach, or pear, a
- wealth of blossom. On every patch of those barren hill-sides where a tree
- might grow, a tree—a fruit-tree—because the Chinaman is
- strictly utilitarian, had been planted; only here and there, over the
- sacred graves of China, there was a patch of willow, tender with the
- delicate dainty green of early spring.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0177.jpg" alt="0177 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0177.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Always in China there are people; and here there were tiny towns packed
- together on ledges of the eternal hills, with the fruit-trees and the
- willows that shade the graves, and there were walls—walls that
- stretch up to the inaccessible portion of the hills, where only a goat
- might climb, and no invading army could possibly pass. So numerous were
- these walls that my cheery young friend suggested that if ever a village
- head-man had a little spare time on his hands he remarked: “Oh, I
- say, here's a fine day and plenty of stones, let's go out and
- build a wall.” And then next day the villagers in the next hamlet
- looking out said, “By Jove, Balbus, no Wong, has built a wall. We
- can't be beat.” But I don't think in the old days the
- villagers on those hills ever took life quite as lightly as that.
- </p>
- <p>
- Over and over again it is repeated, the watch-towers on the hills and the
- strips of wall running down into the valley, walls with wide tops on which
- companies of archers might stand, protected by a breast-work slit for
- arrows, with a wall behind again to which they might retire if they were
- beaten, making the space between hard to hold, even for a victorious
- enemy. Always there were the walls and watch-towers as we went on up the
- valley, telling (116)in their own way, the story of the strenuous lives of
- the men who lived here in the old days.
- </p>
- <p>
- Down the mule track these walls command came an endless company of people,
- wandering along, slowly, persistently, as they have wandered since the
- dawn of history. They had mules, and donkeys, and horses—muzzled so
- that they cannot eat the tufts of herbage by the roadside—laden with
- grain, and hides, and all manner of merchandise. There were blue-coated
- coolies trudging along with bamboos across their shoulders, their heavy
- loads dangling from either end; and there were laden camels, the ragged
- dromedaries from Mongolia, long lines of them, picking their way among the
- stones along the road by the side of the stream. The camels, and the
- walls, and the watch-towers go together, they enhance the wonder and the
- charm of this road to the Great Wall.
- </p>
- <p>
- Up and up we went, up the valley, past the great archway where is the
- Customs barrier even to-day, and on, higher and higher, deeper into the
- hills, till ahead, crowning them, climbing their steepest points, bridging
- their most inaccessible declivities, clear-cut against the blue sky, I saw
- what I had come out to see, one of the wonders of the world, the Great
- Wall of China! Here among the stony, arid hills, that anywhere else in the
- world would be left to the rock-doves and the rabbits, we came upon a
- piece of man's handiwork that for ages has cried aloud to those who
- have eyes to see, or ears to hear, of the colossal industry of China, nay
- of more than that, of the sacrifice of the individual for the good of the
- community. On and on went the Wall, up and up and up, climbing steadily,
- falling, climbing again, <span class="pagenum">117</span><a
- name="link117_rdquo_________id_" id="link117_rdquo_________id_"></a>and
- again dropping into the valleys. There were watch-towers and a broad
- highway along its top; here stood the sentries, who kept ceaseless watch
- and ward looking ever for the invader, whether he came in countless array,
- a conquering army, or in small raiding bands that might take toll of the
- rich crops to the south, steal a few women, or hold a wealthy squire up to
- ransom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Watchman, what of the night? What of the night? Is the road clear
- to the north? Hist! Hist! What is that beneath the loom of the hills? What
- is the sound that comes up on the wind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are always dark shadows in the loom of the hills, and it is
- only a stone falling down the gully.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, but the dark shadows have hidden a band of Manchurian archers,
- and the stone might be loosened by the hoof of a Mongol pony. Watchman!
- Watchman, what of the night? What of the night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- That was the way I felt about it as, having got out of the train, and
- taken a chair, we made our way through the desolate country to the Nankou
- Pass, and I, forgetting all else, stood gazing my fill at the Wall I had
- heard about ever since I was a little child. Dreaming of what it must have
- been in the past, I forgot, for the moment, the present, and the passing
- of time. I was alone, as the poet wished to be, and then a high-pitched
- voice brought me to this present day again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say Momma,” said the millionaire—we thought he was a
- millionaire because of the observation-car, but he may have been just more
- ordinarily well-to-do than a writer of books—“where's
- Cora?” <span class="pagenum">118</span><a name="link118" id="link118"></a>"Search
- me,” said Momma placidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He didn't search her, perhaps because, seeing she was but five feet
- and small and thin at that, he did not think it likely that Cora, who was
- a buxom young person close on six feet, could possibly be concealed
- anywhere about her person.
- </p>
- <p>
- The maiden aunt pointed an accusing finger up the rough, grass-grown
- stones that make the top of the Wall.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Skipping like a young ram,” she snorted, and then all three
- raised their voices, and those old-world rocks rang with shouts of “Cora!
- Cora!! Cora!!!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I trembled for the poet's feelings, if he were anywhere within
- range, but after all, in their own way and time, I dare say the keepers of
- the Wall were just as commonplace. My companion, who was steadily making
- his way up the Wall beside Cora, turned at the ear-piercing yells, looked
- at his watch, spoke to the girl, and came slowly back while she quickened
- her pace for a moment, as if determined to get over the other side of the
- hill, whatever happened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The young gentleman has the most sense,” opined Momma.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She'll come now he's turned,” said the maiden
- aunt acidly, and even though she did come, down across the rough stones,
- by the ruined watch-towers, I felt the insinuation was unjust.
- </p>
- <p>
- Those watch-towers are empty now, deserted and desolate. No thoughtful
- captain, weighed down with responsibility, looks through their arched
- windows, no javelin men stand on the stone steps, no sentry tramps along
- peering out to the north. <span class="pagenum">119</span><a
- name="link119_rdquo_________id_" id="link119_rdquo_________id_"></a>The
- Wall is tumbling into disrepair, the grass and weeds grow up between the
- stones, and the wonder of the world is a mighty ruin, stately even in its
- decay, for never again beneath the sun will such another wall be built.
- Look at it climbing up those hills, cutting the blue sky, bridging the
- gullies, and think of the tears, and sweat, and blood, that went to the
- building of it! That foundations may be well and truly laid, so says
- tradition, they must be laid on a living human being. It is one way of
- saying that on sacrifice our lives are based, that for every good thing in
- life something of value must be given; so to the building of the Wall,
- that was to hold China safe, went hundreds and thousands of lives, and its
- upkeep and its watching cost more than we can well imagine.
- </p>
- <p>
- We went back to the Ching Er Hotel at Nankou, the little hotel close to
- the railway and plunged once more into modern life for, unpretentious and
- kept by Chinese as it is, it still represented the present day. It is just
- one big room, divided into a hall and many little rooms by so many sheets
- of paper, so that the man in the room in front may whisper and nothing be
- lost upon the man in the room at the back, six rooms away, while to have a
- bath is a matter of public interest, for the smallest splash can be heard
- from one end of the building to the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, I shall always have friendly feelings towards that little
- hotel, where they lodged me so hardly, and fed me so well.
- </p>
- <p>
- They considered one in every way, too. The poet had evidently not been
- troubled by the family affection of the millionaires, he walked back from
- the <span class="pagenum">120</span><a name="link120" id="link120"></a>Wall,
- and was so full of enthusiasm he forgave my presence, came to me as I sat
- at dinner and, covered with the dust of the way as he was, stood, and just
- as I should expect of a poet, waxed eloquent on the glories he had seen.
- The Chinese waiter, with shaven head and long blue smock, let him go on
- for a few minutes, then he took him gently and respectfully by the sleeve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vash,” he said solemnly, without the ghost of a smile on his
- face; “vash,” and the poet came to earth with a laugh. We both
- laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, yes,” he said looking at his dust-begrimed person.
- “I suppose I had better wash. I'll be back in a moment. May I
- sit at your table?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And next day I went to see the Ming Tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- St Paul's and Westminster are set in the heart of a mighty city,
- ever by the peaceful dead sounds the clamour of the living, yet the living
- forget, in spite of the daily reminder they forget. In China, where graves
- dot every field, and are part and parcel of the lives of the people, they
- bury the honoured dead far apart from the rush and roar of everyday life,
- and they never forget. The Nankou Pass is two hours from Peking, and the
- tombs of the Ming Emperors are nine miles from the Nankou Pass, set in the
- very heart of the hills. The entrance to the pass is barren and lonely
- enough, but the extra nine miles is like journeying into the wilderness
- where the scapegoat, burdened with the sins of the community, was driven
- by the Israelites. It is a long, long nine miles over a stony mule track
- where only a donkey, a pony, or a chair can go, and yet here centuries
- ago, when it was ten times farther away, China buried her dead, the men
- who sat on <span class="pagenum">121</span><a name="link121" id="link121"></a>the
- Dragon Throne, and bridged for the nation the gap that lies between mortal
- men and high Heaven. It is lonely now when the roadway of the West brings
- Nankou close to the capital, it must have been unspeakably lonely in the
- days before the opening of the railway. A chair seemed to me the only way
- to get there, a chair borne by four blue-clad coolies with queues wrapped
- round their shaven heads, and while my companion rode a pony, in a chair I
- swung over the stony narrow track away towards the hills. The hills were
- rugged and barren, the same hills that the Wall crossed; on their stony
- sides no green thing could ever grow, and they were brown, and pink, and
- grey, and when a white cloud gathered here and there in the faraway blue
- sky, the shadows lay across them in great purple patches. And the road was
- stony, barely to be seen, impossible for wheeled traffic, even the
- primitive wheeled traffic of Northern China. I doubt even if a wheelbarrow
- could have gone along it. I doubted often whether the heaps of stones on
- the slope could possibly be a road, but the coolies seemed to know, and
- went steadily on, changing the pole from one shoulder to the other so
- often that it gave me a feeling of brutality that I should use such a
- means of locomotion. The only person who was comfortable was I.
- </p>
- <p>
- My companion rode beside me sometimes. He felt himself responsible for my
- well-being, and it was good to be looked after.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you all right?”
- </p>
- <p>
- All right! If the country round was desolate, the sunshine was glorious,
- the air, the clear, dry air of Northern China was as invigorating as
- champagne, <span class="pagenum">122</span><a name="link122" id="link122"></a>and
- I knew that I could go on for ever and feel myself much blessed. The Ming
- Tombs were but an excuse; it was well and more than well to be here in the
- open spaces of the earth, to draw deep breaths, to feel that neither past
- nor future mattered; here beneath the open sky in the golden sunshine
- swinging along, somewhere, anywhere, I had all I could ask of life.
- </p>
- <p>
- And always it was a stony way. Sometimes the coolies climbed up a bank of
- loose stones that slipped and rolled away as they passed, sure-footed as
- goats, sometimes the stones were piled on either side and a sort of track
- meandered in between, sometimes they were scattered all over the plain in
- such masses that even the industrious Chinese seemed to have given up the
- task of clearing them away as hopeless, and had simply tilled the land in
- between. For this was no uninhabited desert, desolate as it seemed. Always
- we came across little stone-built hamlets, there were men and women
- working in the fields, and rosy-cheeked children stood by the wayside and
- waved their little hands to the passing stranger. There would be the sound
- of bells, and a string of mules or donkeys came picking their way as
- soberly as the coolies themselves, and left much to themselves by their
- ragged drivers. They looked of the poorest, these people, men and women
- clad much alike in dirty blue that, torn here and there, let out the
- cotton-wool which padded it for winter warmth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Probably they knew nothing, nothing of the world beyond their little
- dusty, stony hamlets, they prayed perhaps for the rain that should moisten
- their dusty, stony fields, and give them the mess of meal, the <span
- class="pagenum">123</span><a name="link123" id="link123"></a>handful of
- persimmons that is all they ask of Fate, and they watched the few
- strangers who came to visit the tombs, and perhaps never even wondered
- what the outside world might be like, if it gave to those who lived there
- anything more than fell to the lot of the humble dwellers on the road to
- the Ming Tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0189.jpg" alt="0189 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0189.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And at last in the pleasant noontide we came to the p'ia lou at the
- entrance, the greatest p'ia lou in China, that land of p'ia
- lous, and standing there I realised, not only the beauty of the archway,
- but the wonder of the place the Mings had chosen to be theirs for all
- time. It is a great amphitheatre among these barren hills. St Paul's
- or Westminster could not hold these tombs, for Hyde Park might be put in
- this valley and yet not half fill it; and round it, set against the base
- of the hills, in great courts enclosed in pinkish-red walls, the
- counterpart of those round the Forbidden City, and planted with cypress
- and pine, are the various tombs. A magnificent resting-place, truly! And
- the dignity is enhanced by the desolate approach. Through the p'ia
- lou is the famous Holy Way, the avenue of marble animals, of which all the
- world has so often heard. What mystic significance had the marble elephant
- and the camel, the kneeling horse and the sedate scholar? Possibly they
- had no more than the general suggestion that all things did honour to the
- mighty dead laid away in their tombs. A paved way runs between them, paved
- with great blocks of marble brought from the hills, placed there in Bygone
- ages by the hands of slaves, sweating and struggling under their loads, or
- possibly by men just exactly like the men who were bearing me, men slaves
- in all but name, who each day must earn a <span class="pagenum">124</span><a
- name="link124_rdquo_________id_" id="link124_rdquo_________id_"></a>few
- pence or go under in the pitiful struggle for life. The paved way that
- runs on for three miles is worn and broken, the grass comes up between the
- blocks, the bridges are falling into disrepair, but these things are
- trifles in the face of the amphitheatre set among the eternal hills, the
- blue sky and the sunshine, these are a memorial here, a memorial that
- makes the work of men's hands but a small thing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless that work is very wonderful. No one, I suppose, except he
- were making Chinese art or antiquities a special study, would visit every
- tomb in turn. It would take a week, and we, like the majority of visitors,
- contented ourselves with that of Yung Lo, the principal one. And here is a
- curious thing worth noting, a thing that possibly would happen nowhere
- else in the world, showing how irrevocably China feels herself bound to
- the past. The Ming Emperor was a Chinese, and the Republic that has just
- overthrown the Manchu Dynasty, is also Chinese, so as a mark of respect,
- they have repaired, after a fashion, this, the tomb of the greatest of the
- Ming Emperors. That is to say—oh China! they have whitewashed the
- marble, painted the golden-brown tiled roof of the temple, and swept and
- garnished the great audience hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- A tomb in China reminds me in no way of death. We entered through a door
- studded with heavy brazen knobs a grass-grown courtyard, where were trees,
- pine and cypress. We went along a paved way, and before us was a building
- with a curved roof, with the tiles broken here and there; it was set on a
- platform reached by flights of marble steps, or rather the flights of
- steps were on either side, while in the centre was a ramp on which was
- beautifully <span class="pagenum">125</span><a name="link125" id="link125"></a>carved
- in relief the dragon, the sign of Empire, and the horse, which I have
- heard some people say is the sign of good-fortune. On the platform,
- through all the cracks in the marble, violets were forcing their way,
- making a purple carpet under the golden sunshine. We crossed to a hall,
- which is surely most wonderful. The light was subdued a little, and the
- hall that contains in its centre the memorial tablet of red and gold is as
- magnificent in its proportions as York Minster. The roof is supported by
- trunks of sandal-wood trees, smooth, straight, and brown, they run sixty
- feet up to the roof, and after more than five hundred years the air is
- heavy with the sensuous scent of them. Where did they get that
- sandal-wood, those trunks all of such noble proportions? They must have
- cost an immense sum of money, for they never grew in Northern China.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another courtyard is behind this hall of audience, where is a marble
- fountain, whitewashed, and a spring that is supposed to cure all ills of
- the eyes, and a door apparently leading into a hill-side, behind which is
- a grove of cypress trees. The door being opened, we entered a paved tunnel
- which led upwards to a chamber in the heart of the hill, whence two more
- ramps led still upwards, one to the right and the other to the left, into
- the open air again. Here the coffin was placed in the mound through the
- top of the ramp. The stones with which the ramps were paved were worn and
- slippery, the angle was steep, the leaves from the trees outside had
- drifted in, and the effect was strange and weird. Nowhere else but in
- China could such a thing be. And right on top of the mound, over the <span
- class="pagenum">126</span><a name="link126" id="link126"></a>actual grave,
- is another memorial tablet to the dead Emperor, looking away out over the
- valley to the stony hills, that are the wall which hedges off this sacred
- place from the outside world.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Yung Lo, the Emperor, died in the first half of the fifteenth century.
- How many people in England know or care, where Henry V. lies buried?
- </p>
- <p>
- The evening was falling when we went back by the stony mule path, by the
- little stony villages, where the mothers were calling their children in
- from the fields, and the men were gathering at the meeting-places for the
- evening gossip. Of what did they talk? Of the Emperor dead in his tomb
- hundreds of years ago? Of the New Republic away in the capital? The
- Emperor seemed somehow nearer to the village people. There was the sound
- of quaint, tuneless, Eastern music, and sitting with the sun on his
- sightless face, surrounded by a listening little crowd, was a blind
- musician holding across his knees a sort of lute. The people turned and
- watched as the strangers and the aliens passed, and the musician thrummed
- on. Light or dark was the same to him. The clouds piled now in the western
- sky, and the stony land looked unutterably dreary in the gathering gloom,
- the coolies must have been weary, but they went steadily on, changing the
- chair pole from one shoulder to the other. The slopes that had been hard
- to scramble up were harder to scramble down, but they made no complaint.
- This was their work, and the night was coming when they might rest. The
- night was coming fast, but we were nearing the end of our journey. The
- hills looked cold, and gloomy, and threatening, and then the heavy clouds
- above them <span class="pagenum">127</span><a name="link127" id="link127"></a>broke,
- and through them burst the setting sun in all the glory of silver, and
- purple, and ruddy gold. Down on the barren hills, like a benediction, fell
- his last rays, telling of hope for the morrow, and we turned into the yard
- of the little inn, and the coolies bowed themselves to the ground, one
- after the other, because they got a pitiful little over and above their
- hard-earned wages.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0196.jpg" alt="0196 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0196.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And the next day we went back to Peking, back through the pass.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Ching Er Hotel provided tiffin on the train, curried chicken and
- mutton chops, some form of cakey pudding, cheese, and bread and butter,
- all excellent in its way—and we were all so amiable, even the poet
- had come down from the clouds and joined us, that we only laughed when we
- found we were expected to pile all these good things on one plate, and do
- it quickly before the train left!
- </p>
- <p>
- As we were eating it, the guard came round and collected one dollar and
- ninety cents extra apiece, because we had ridden on the observation-car.
- We paid, and said hard things about the millionaire, but a little more
- knowledge of ways Chinese has convinced me we accused him unjustly. I feel
- sure that enterprising and observant guard took stock of us, saw that we
- did not know the American, and collected, for the benefit of a highly
- intelligent, and truly deserving Chinese railway official.
- </p>
- <p>
- We seldom think of the Chinaman with the glamour of romance, but this
- Nankou Pass is well-calculated to upset all our former ideas, and give us
- a setting for China such as might apply to barbaric Italy or Provence of
- the Middle Ages, only—and it is well to remember, what we barbarians
- of the West <span class="pagenum">128</span><a name="link128" id="link128"></a>are
- apt to forget—that in China, things have always moved in mightier
- orbits, that where there were ten men in the Western world, you may count
- a hundred in China, for a hundred a thousand, for a thousand ten thousand.
- </p>
- <p>
- What must the Nankou Pass have been like on some bitter night in winter,
- when the stars were like points of steel, and the stream was frozen in a
- grip of iron, and the still air was keen, and hard, and cold, with the
- bitter, biting sting of the northern winter? When the fires blazed in the
- beacons on the hillsides, flinging their ruddy light, their message of
- fear and warning. The keepers of the Wall were failing, the Mongol hordes
- were pouring over the barrier, and it behoved every man who saw that ruddy
- glare to arm and come to the keeping of the Pass, to die in its guarding.
- They died and they held it, and they died and the invaders flung their
- bodies to the wolves and the crows, and swept on and took the country
- beyond for their own.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the country to the south is China, China of the ages and she absorbs
- nations, Mongol or Manchu, or men from her western borders, and makes them
- one with herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is the message I read in the Nankou Pass. I have changed my mind
- again and again, and generally I do not believe what I read that day. But
- it was firmly impressed on me then. China is not dead. The spirit that
- conceived and built that mighty Wall is a living thing still. All down the
- Pass, alongside the age-old mule track, runs a new road, a road of the
- West, a railway, planned, and laid, and built entirely by Chinese without
- any Western help except such as the sons of China got <span class="pagenum">129</span><a
- name="link129" id="link129"></a>for themselves in the schools of America
- and England. And it is not only well and truly laid, as well as, and
- better than, many a Western railway, but behold the spirit of China has
- entered in, the spirit, not of her poor, struggling for a crust of bread,
- a mess of meal, but the spirit of the men who conceived and planned the
- Wall, the beautiful Lama Temple, or the spacious courtyards and glorious
- palaces of the Forbidden City. They have built embankments and curves,
- tunnels and archways that are things of beauty, and glorious to look upon,
- as surely never was railway before. They have built, and it is saying a
- great deal, a railway that is worthy of the Nankou Pass. They are the
- lineal descendants of the men, who, two thousand years ago, built the
- Great Wall. Hail and all hail!
- </p>
- <p>
- And then a railway man talked to me. The railway might be beautiful, but
- it was costly beyond all excuse. The best of the ideas had come from
- Europe, certainly these highly civilised, these over-civilised people
- might be trusted to see and make a beautiful thing, the question was,
- could they be trusted to manage a railway as a railway should be managed?
- He thought not. They had somehow lost force. Well, we shall see. One thing
- seems certain, between us Westerners and the Chinese, is a great gulf
- fixed. We look across and sometimes we wonder, and sometimes we pity, and
- sometimes we admire, but we cannot understand.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII—TWO CHARITIES
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">130</span><a name="link130" id="link130"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The manufacturing of the blind—“Before born”—The
- Rev. Hill Murray—“The Message”—Geography—Marriage—A
- brave little explorer—Massacre of the blind—Deposits of one
- tael—A missionary career—The charitable Chinese—A
- Buddhist orphanage—Invitation to a funeral—An intellectual
- abbot—The youngest orphan—Pity and mercy.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he blind musician
- I had seen playing to the village folk with the setting sun, that he could
- not see, on his face, remained in my mind. Why especially, I do not know,
- for it is a common enough sight in China. Terrible as is the affliction,
- the Chinese, by their insanitary habits, more or less manufacture their
- blind. The cult of the bath is not theirs yet, they live, apparently
- happily, amongst filthy surroundings, they neglect the eyes of the
- new-born child, they suffer from smallpox, and ophthalmia, and the barber
- with his infected razor shaves, not only close round the outside, but with
- the laudable intention of making all clean and neat, as far down as he can
- get round the delicate inside of the eyelid. The result one may see any
- day in the streets of Peking, or any Chinese town. A beggar in China is
- always a horrible-looking object. He belongs to a guild. His intention is
- to attract pity, and it would seem to him going the wrong way about it, to
- begin by being neat and clean. Besides, though many people <span
- class="pagenum">131</span><a name="link131" id="link131"></a>in China are
- neat, I suspect very few of them are what we arrogant Westerners would
- describe as clean, and among a dirty people, the blind beggar stands out,
- pre-eminent, as the filthiest creature I have ever seen. On the roadside,
- again and again in a country place where many people are passing, I have
- seen a half-naked man, who looked as if he had never since his birth even
- looked at water, clad, or rather half-clad, in filthy rags with raw red
- sores where his eyes should have been. He was so horrible, so ghastly a
- specimen of humanity that he seemed almost beyond pity. And yet a blind
- person always receives a certain amount of respect and consideration from
- the Chinese, even from the poorest Chinese. Never in his hearing would the
- roughest rickshaw coolie call him “Hsia Tze” that is “Blind
- man.” That would be discourteous. Though he be only a beggar,
- forlorn, hungry, unkempt, he is still addressed by all passers as “Hsien
- Sheng,” “Before Born,” a title of respect that is given
- to teachers, doctors, and men of superior rank and age.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hard though, in spite of the respect that is paid them, must be the lot of
- those who are handicapped by the loss of sight. It is hard in any land,
- but in China, where even among those in full possession of their senses,
- there are hundreds of thousands just on the verge of starvation, the touch
- needed to send a man over the brink is very, very slight indeed. Not even
- the close family ties of the Chinese can help them much, for where the
- strongest suffer, the weak must go to the wall. And there are very few
- crafts open to the blind man. He may be a storyteller, or a
- fortune-teller, or a musician, I cannot <span class="pagenum">132</span><a
- name="link132" id="link132"></a>imagine what he would do if his talents
- did not run in those lines, and even then he is dependent upon the doles
- of a people who have very, very little to give away, and naturally guard
- that little carefully. Once blind there is nothing more to be done. The
- beautiful blue sky of China, the golden sunshine have gone, and in its
- place there is the darkness, warm sometimes, bitter cold sometimes, the
- enveloping darkness that means for so many helplessness and starvation,
- often at the very best semi-starvation, borne with the uncomplaining
- stoicism of the Chinese.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now once upon a time a man stood upon the Beggars' Bridge in Peking,
- outside the walls of the Tartar City, selling Bibles, and noticed as
- everyone must do, the number of blind who passed by. Was there none to
- pity, asked the Rev. Hill Murray, none among all those who had devoted
- their lives to bringing the Gospel to the heathen to help?
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” said some. “When you know that already the
- Chinese declare we missionaries take the children for the sake of making
- medicine of their eyes, will you give colour to the accusation by setting
- up a mission to the blind?” And then, when he still persisted,
- “They need us, they need us,” they said: “Since you are
- so keen, why don't you do it yourself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- To him it was “The Message.” Why should he not do it himself?
- And there and then he set to work. It was years ago. What the cost, what
- the struggle, I do not know. I only know that one sunny April day
- wandering round Peking in a hu t'ung in the east of the Tartar City
- I came upon the house, or rather, for it is all done Chinese fashion,
- <span class="pagenum">133</span><a name="link133" id="link133"></a>the
- nest of little houses with their courtyards and little gardens, that is
- the Mission to the Blind.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0204.jpg" alt="0204 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0204.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The Rev. Hill Murray is gone to his rest, but his wife and daughters keep
- up the Mission, waiting for the time when his young son, away in England
- training, shall be ready to take his place. Fifty pupils, boys and girls,
- the missionaries send in from the various stations, and here they are
- taught, taught to read and write according to the Braille system, taught
- to play musical instruments, and prepared for being preachers, which of
- course the missionaries consider the most important avocation of all. I,
- in my turn, am only concerned that the unfortunate should be happy, or as
- happy as he can be under the circumstances, and I should think that the
- preacher, the man who feels himself of some importance in spite of his
- affliction, competent to instruct his fellows in what, to him, is a matter
- of deep moment, has possibly the best chance of happiness. The girls are
- taught much the same as the boys, and in addition to knit, and such
- household work as they are capable of.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed to me sad, when I went there one bright sunny morning, that
- these young things should be for ever in the dark, but I am bound to say
- it was only my thoughts that were sad. The girls came laughing into the
- front courtyard with their knitting in their hands to see—see, save
- the mark!—the stranger, and have their photographs taken. The sun,
- the golden sun of April, streamed down on the stone-paved courtyard, all
- the plants in pots were in bloom, and the girls, dressed in Chinese
- fashion, made deep obeisance in the direction they were told I was. All
- around were the quaint roofs, dainty <span class="pagenum">134</span><a
- name="link134" id="link134"></a>lattice-work windows, and Eastern
- surroundings of a Chinese house, and the girls were grave at first,
- because they were being introduced to an older woman, and one whom they
- thought was their superior, therefore they thought it was not fitting they
- should laugh and talk, but when I remarked on their gravity, Miss Murray,
- shepherding them, laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh they are very happy. They don't feel their lot, not yet at
- any rate. They are proud because they have learned so much. They can read
- and write, they can knit, and they have learned geography.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Geography seemed a great asset, and presently, they, when they knew they
- might, were laughing and talking, and saying how proud they were to have
- their photographs taken. They sat there knitting, and even while they
- talked, did exactly what they were told, for like all Chinese, they have a
- great sense of the fitting. On one occasion a friend brought in a
- gramophone and set it going for their amusement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could have shaken them all,” said Miss Murray, “they
- received the funniest sallies in solemn silence,” and when the
- entertainer was gone, she reproached them, “You never even smiled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A dozen eager voices responded. “Oh but it was so hard not to laugh.
- We wanted to so much, but we thought it would not be right. It was so
- hard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lot of all women in China is hard; doubly hard, it seemed to me, must
- the lot of these poor little girls be, cut off from the only hope of
- happiness a Chinese woman has, the chance of bearing a son. <span
- class="pagenum">135</span><a name="link135" id="link135"></a>"And they can
- never marry,” I said sorrowfully to Miss Murray.
- </p>
- <p>
- There came a smile into her bright young eyes. “Oh, I don't
- know. Some of them may. They are so very well-educated, and the Chinese
- admire education, and in a Chinese household, where there are so many
- people to do the work, a blind wife would not be so useless. Only the
- other day we heard of the marriage of one of our girls.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And I looked at them again with other eyes, and hoped there were many
- households that would like a wife for their son who knew geography.
- </p>
- <p>
- We went from the outer to the inner courtyard, a rock garden where, in
- true Chinese fashion, are set out plants and rockeries, a little winding
- river with a stone bridge across it, a miniature lake—there is no
- water in it now—and many creeping plants hiding the stones. It is a
- charming spot, but naturally the blind are not allowed to go there by
- themselves. It is too dangerous. However, on one occasion, one curious
- little boy objected to these restrictions, and went on an exploring
- expedition on his own account. Groping about in the darkness, he fell into
- the river, which has steep cement sides, and out of that he could not get.
- You would think that he would have yelled lustily to call attention to his
- predicament, but that is not the Chinese way. He had disobeyed, Fate was
- against him, and he must suffer, and there he lay the livelong day without
- a murmur, and not till they called the roll in the evening, was his
- absence discovered, and a search for him instituted. Even that lesson was
- not sufficient, for once again he was missing, and once again he was
- discovered fallen into one of the many traps of the rock garden. <span
- class="pagenum">136</span><a name="link136" id="link136"></a>It was
- unexplored country to him, and he was willing to risk much to see what it
- was like.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the parts of the house with which they are familiar they can all run
- about, up and down steps, and in and out of courtyards and down passages
- as easily as people with sight. The boys came out of their class-rooms
- where they learn to read, and write, and sing, and play the harmonium, and
- raced about much as other boys in other lands would do.
- </p>
- <p>
- They have two meals a day—one in the morning and one at four o'clock
- in the afternoon, and as much tea and bread at other times as they care to
- have. Mrs Murray apologised for the dampness of the stones of the
- dining-room floor. It is a Chinese house, and stone floors are not a sign
- of poverty. These stones are damp because at twelve o'clock the boys
- come and pour themselves out cups of tea, and naturally they make a mess.
- The cook is busy, he cannot be with them always. For this charity is run
- on very simple lines, and the people who see are very few. There is the
- cook and the house-coolie, a woman for the girls, a doorkeeper, frail and
- old, he may be seen standing just outside the door in the picture of the
- hu t'ung, and a couple of men who attend to the making of the
- Braille books, for their making and binding requires the attention of
- someone with sight. But with these exceptions, the blind have it all to
- themselves; they learn, and they play, and they eat by themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- In one of the pictures I have taken, the boys have come out of school and
- are playing cat and mouse. All join hands in a circle, and one boy
- creeping in and out softly is chased by another. How they manage it in
- their darkness I don't know, but they <span class="pagenum">137</span><a
- name="link137" id="link137"></a>chattered, and laughed, and shouted
- happily though what they said of course I did not know. They are all, boys
- and girls alike, dressed in the ordinary blue cotton of the country; the
- boys had their hair cut short, for nowadays the queue, that most curious
- of fashions in the dressing of hair, is going out. The girls were also
- dressed like the peasants, with their trousers neatly drawn in at the
- ankles and their smooth, straight hair drawn back and plaited in a tail
- down the back, much like an English schoolgirl; the little ones though,
- have their heads shaven in front, very ugly, but in conformation with
- Chinese custom, which always shaves part at least of the little one's
- head.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the courtyard where the boys were playing, was a rocking-horse, a
- dilapidated and battered toy without either tail, or mane, or eyes. And
- this toy is pathetic, when you know its history. It was bought with the
- pennies saved by Mr Hill Murray's children. They, too, out of their
- small store, wanted to do something for the blind; and the blind children,
- immediately it came into their possession, took out its eyes. They were
- not going to have the rocking-horse spying on them when they could not see
- themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- They all wisely live in native fashion. Their food is the food of the
- well-to-do lower classes, plenty of bread, steamed instead of being baked,
- and plenty of vegetables and soup, with just a little meat in it; the food
- to which they have been accustomed, and which they like best. Their beds,
- I have tried to depict one, are just the ordinary k'ang, a stone
- platform to hold three in summer, and five in winter. Under it is a small
- fireplace where a fire can be built <span class="pagenum">138</span><a
- name="link138_rdquo_________id_" id="link138_rdquo_________id_"></a>to
- warm it, above, it is covered with matting, and each boy spreads his own
- bed of quilted cotton, which is rolled up in the daytime.
- </p>
- <p>
- I would have thought that the Mission to the Blind was so good and great a
- thing that it could rouse no bitter feelings in any breast. It has for its
- object the succouring of those whom the Chinese themselves treat with
- great respect, yet so fanatical was the Boxer outbreak, that in the hu t'ung
- outside the Mission, forty of the pupils and their teachers, helpless in
- their affliction, were done to death by those who would have none of the
- Westerner and his works, even though those works were works of mercy.
- </p>
- <p>
- More often, perhaps, in China than anywhere in the world where I have
- been, am I reminded of the passage in Holy Writ that tells how as the Man
- of Pity came nigh unto Jericho a certain blind man sat by the wayside
- begging. And, hearing the multitude pass by, he asked what it meant, and
- they told him, “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” We may not give
- sight to the blind nowadays, but if we walk in the streets of Peking, and
- then turn in to the Mission to the Blind with its kindly care for the
- helpless, and its brightening of darkened lives, we know that that man who
- stood on the Beggars' Bridge pitied, as his Master had pitied before
- him. All that he could do he has done, and those who have come after him
- have followed faithfully in his footsteps, can any man do more? I think
- not. Truly I think not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?” asked the Lord of
- the World of the blind beggar.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he said, “Lord that I may receive my sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Those who charge themselves with the care of the <span class="pagenum">139</span><a
- name="link139" id="link139"></a>blind may not give so royally now. Theirs
- is the harder part, they tend and care with unfailing patience, untiring
- diligence, and then they stand, and wait.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0212.jpg" alt="0212 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0212.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- I was so lost in my admiration for the Mission to the Blind, that I began
- to think and to say, that missionary enterprise, which I had always
- thought should turn its attention to its own people, was at least
- justified in this land of China, where no provision was made for the sick
- and afflicted, and where charity was unknown. I said it very often, and
- every foreigner approved, until at last, there came one or two who
- promptly showed me the utter folly of drawing deductions when I didn't
- know anything about the facts.
- </p>
- <p>
- The foreigner in China is divided into two camps. He is either missionary
- or he is anti-missionary. Both sides are keen on the matter. And, of
- course, there are always two sides to every question, as the little girl
- saw whose sympathies went out to the poor lion, who hadn't got a
- Christian.
- </p>
- <p>
- China needs medical missionaries, needs them as badly as the city slums of
- London or New York; and China is going to get them, for there are
- thousands of people who think a deal more of the state of the soul of the
- materialistic Chinaman than they do of the starving bodies, and more than
- starved intellects of the slum children of a Christian land. Formerly the
- missionary had a worse time than he has now. He came among a people who
- despised him, and more than once he suffered martyrdom, and even when
- there was no question of martyrdom, some of the regulations he submitted
- to must have been unpleasant. Unwisely I think, for you can <span
- class="pagenum">140</span><a name="link140" id="link140"></a>never make a
- European look like a Chinaman, the powers that ran the missionary
- societies, decided that the missionary must wear Chinese dress, even to
- the shaven head and the queue behind. A hatchet-faced Scot with a fiery
- red pigtail, they say was an awesome sight, certainly calculated to
- impress the Celestial, though whether in the way the newcomer intended I
- should not like to say. The growing of a proper queue was, of course, a
- question of months, and the majority of missionaries began their career
- with a false one. A story is told of one luckless young man in Shanghai
- who lost his, and went about his business for some little time unaware of
- the fact. When he did discover his loss he went back on his tracks,
- searching for it at all the places he had visited. At last he arrived at
- the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, and there, pinned high on the wall, was
- his missing property, and attached to it by some facetious clerk was the
- legend in great letters that all might read: “Deposits of one tael
- not accepted here!” For the benefit of the uninitiated, one tael is
- a sum of money, varying with the price of silver, from half-a-crown to
- three shillings.
- </p>
- <p>
- But those days are gone by. Nowadays missionary societies are wiser, and
- the medical missionaries are pleasant, cheerful, hard-working men and
- women doing an immense amount of good among the suffering poor, so kindly,
- so thoughtful are they that I grudge their services to the heathen when I
- think how many of the children, aye and those who are not children, in the
- mean streets of the great cities of the West need their services. They
- trouble themselves about the souls of the people too, and the example of
- kindly lives must be good. Again I grudge it all to <span class="pagenum">141</span><a
- name="link141" id="link141"></a>the Oriental, though I have come to
- realise that there are many ways of doing good in the world. I do
- occasionally feel that the missionaries are a little too strenuous in
- inculcating prayer and praise, and exhorting to a virtue that is a little
- beyond the average mortal. The caring for both bodies and souls can
- certainly be overdone. However I dare say it all works right in the end,
- and I, who do nothing, should be the last to judge. Still sometimes I
- could not but remember the picture of the two babies discussing the
- situation, the fat, plump baby, and the thin, miserable, scrawny one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Said the thin baby: “How do you manage to keep so fat? My milk's
- sterilised, and the milkman's sterilised, and even the cart's
- sterilised, and yet look at me,” and he stretched out his thin,
- starved hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, so's mine,” said the fat baby serenely, “but,
- when no one's looking, I climb down and get a chew at the corner of
- the floor-rug, and get enough bacteria to keep a decent life in me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Listening to the talk of the missionaries, hearing of the foolishness of
- smoking, the wickedness of alcoholic drinks, and various forms of
- sinfulness, I have rather hoped, and more than suspected, that the
- converts sometimes got down and had a chew at the corner of the floor-rug
- when no one was looking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not that many of the missionaries don't endeavour to live up to
- their own moral code, many of them do, and many of them lead lives of
- abnegation and self-denial. We all know that the missionary of the Church
- of Rome gives up everything, and expects never again to see his country
- once he enters the mission-field, and many of the China Inland
- Missionaries, <span class="pagenum">142</span><a name="link142"
- id="link142"></a>except in the matter of celibacy, run them close. Their
- pay is very, very small, no holidays can be counted upon, and their lives
- are isolated and lonely. Even the American missionary, who is far better
- paid, gives up his own individuality. The ministers earn more, I believe,
- than they would in their own country, because people give gladly to
- missions, while at home the minister's salary is often a burning
- question. “Far fields are ever fair,” but a clever surgeon who
- is kept hard at it from dawn to dark, once the Chinese appreciate him,
- certainly receives far less than he could earn working for himself. He is
- given a comfortable home, he may marry and have children without a qualm,
- for, for every child twenty pounds a year is allowed till he is of age;
- the societies see to it that a six weeks' holiday is given every
- year, and a year's furlough every seven years with passage paid home
- for wife and children. No business firm could afford to make more
- comfortable provision for its employees.
- </p>
- <p>
- In China, service is cheap and good, the food and the cooks both
- excellent, and the climate, at least in the north, exhilarating and
- delightful. But the missionaries do their duty, and do it well, and they
- are pioneers of Western civilisation. In their wake comes trade, though
- that is the last thing the majority of them think about. The only trouble
- for the American missionary seems to me the danger that hangs over every
- dweller in China—a danger they share with every other foreign
- resident. It is hard to think of danger when one looks at the courteous,
- subservient Chinese, but Sir Robert Hart put it succinctly: “Anything
- may happen at any time in China.” And for all the New Republic,
- <span class="pagenum">143</span><a name="link143" id="link143"></a>and for
- all the fair promise, his words are still worthy of attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you really think,” said R. F. Johnston, the well-known
- writer on things Chinese, “that the Chinese knew nothing about
- charity till it was preached to them by Christian missionaries?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I intimated that such had been my faith.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Chinese,” said he, a little indignantly, “are one
- of the most charitable peoples on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then he told me what I, a stranger and ignorant of the language, might
- have gone years without learning. To begin with, family ties are far
- stronger in China than in European countries, and a man feels himself
- bound to help his helpless relatives in a way that would seem absurd to
- the average Christian, and in addition there are numerous societies for
- helping those, who, by some mischance, have no one upon whom they can
- depend. There are societies for succouring the sick, societies for looking
- after orphans, and other kindly institutions. There are even societies for
- paying poor folks' fares across ferries! There certainly are a good
- many rivers in China, but this society I must admit strikes me as a work
- of supererogation. I don't think much merit can really attach to the
- subscribers, for the majority of poor folks I have seen would be so much
- better for walking through the river, clothes and all.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, we have a good few foolish charities of our own, and even if the
- Chinese charities do not cover all the ground, we must remember that China
- is, in so many things, archaic; and these charities run on archaic lines
- are naturally shocking to men steeped in the sanitary lore of the West,
- <span class="pagenum">144</span><a name="link144" id="link144"></a>We have
- only to read the novels of Charles Dickens and Charlotte Brontë to see a
- few flaws in the way the charities of the Early Victorian era were
- administered; what would we think if we could take a peep into
- thetlazar-house of the Middle Ages—yet there were kind hearts, I
- doubt not, in the Middle Ages—and China, with her overflowing
- population, is yet in the matter of charity where we were some time about
- the reign of the seventh Henry. Could we expect much?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you like to see a Buddhist Orphanage?” asked Mr
- Johnston.
- </p>
- <p>
- I said I would, and he promised to take me to one they were trying to run
- on Western lines.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a pleasantly warm Sunday, with a wind blowing that lifted the
- filthy dust of Peking from the roadways, and flung it in our faces. We
- interviewed first two rickshaw coolies with a view to ascertaining whether
- they; knew where we wanted to go, or rather he interviewed them, for I
- have no Chinese. They swore they did, by all their gods. Still he looked
- doubtful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don't you take them?” said I, feeling mistakenly
- that nowhere else in the town could the dust and the wind be quite so bad
- as just outside the Wagons Lits Hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I want to find out if they really know where we want to go.
- They always swear they do, for fear of losing the job.”
- </p>
- <p>
- However, at last we set out with rickshaw coolies who seemed to have a
- working knowledge of the route we wished to follow, and we went through
- the Chien Men into the Chinese City, and away to the west through a maze
- of narrow alley-ways, hung <span class="pagenum">145</span><a
- name="link145" id="link145"></a>with long Chinese signs, past the closely
- packed, one-storied shops where they sold china and earthenware, cotton
- goods and food-stuffs, lanterns, and rows of uninteresting Chinese shoes.
- The streets of course were thronged. There were rickshaws, laden donkeys,
- broughams with Venetian shutters to shut out the glare, the clanging bell
- and outrider to tell that some important man was passing, mules, camels,
- men on foot with or without burdens, with bamboos across their shoulders
- and loads slung from them, and some few women tottering along on maimed
- feet. And every man was giving his opinion on things in general to the
- universe at the top of his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How I wish I could understand what they were saying,” I said
- to my companion once, when the exigencies of the way brought our rickshaws
- side by side.
- </p>
- <p>
- He laughed. “Sometimes it's as well you shouldn't.”
- And then he corrected himself lest I should have got a wrong impression.
- “No, on the whole they are very polite to each other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Once we came upon a man with a packet of papers in his hand. He was
- standing upon something to raise him a little above the passing crowd, and
- distributing the papers not to everyone, but apparently with great
- discrimination. Both of us were deemed worthy of a sheet, and I wondered
- what on earth the hieroglyphics could mean. It was an invitation to a
- funeral, my cicerone informed me, the next time we were in speaking
- distance. Some woman, who had been working for a broader education for
- women, had died, and her friends were going to mark their appreciation of
- her labours by <span class="pagenum">146</span><a
- name="link146_rdquo_________id_" id="link146_rdquo_________id_"></a>a
- suitable funeral. So is the change coming to China.
- </p>
- <p>
- As we went on the houses grew fewer, there were open spaces where kaoliang
- and millet were being reaped, for this, my second charity, I visited in
- September, the grey walls of the city rose up before us, and still there
- was no sign of the monastery. Our men were panting, the sweat was running
- down their faces and staining their thin coats, still they dragged us on,
- never dreaming; of using the tongues Nature had given them to lighten
- their labours. To ask the way would have been to show the foreigner in the
- rickshaw that they had not known it in the first instance, and that would
- be to lose face.
- </p>
- <p>
- But one of the foreigners had grasped that already, and he insisted on the
- necessary inquiries being made, and presently we had gone back on our
- tracks and were at the monastery, being received by the abbot who had
- charge of it, and a tall Chinese, who spoke German, and was deeply
- interested in the Orphanage.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the great day of the year, for they were having their annual
- sports. Over the entrance gateway was a magnificent decoration to mark the
- event. The place was built Chinese fashion, with many courtyards and
- low-roofed houses round them, and we were led from one courtyard to
- another until at last we arrived at a large courtyard, or rather
- playground. Here were the monks and their charges, and a certain number of
- spectators who had been invited to see the show, all men, for men and
- women do not mingle in China, and the next day the entertainment would be
- repeated with women only as spectators. I received a warm <span
- class="pagenum">147</span><a name="link147" id="link147"></a>invitation to
- come again, but I felt that once would be enough. We sat down on a bench
- with a table in front of us, a boy was told off to keep us supplied with
- tea, and I had leisure to look around me and see what manner of people
- were these among whom I had come.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0026" id="linkimage-0026"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0222.jpg" alt="0222 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0222.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0223.jpg" alt="0223 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0223.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- There are thirty monks here, and they have charge of two hundred and fifty
- orphans whom they teach to read and write, and all the useful trades, give
- them, in fact, a good start in the world, and the best of chances to earn
- their own living. The bright sunshine was everywhere, the walls in a
- measure shut out the wind and the dust, and the sports were in full swing.
- At the upper end of the ground, in a room overlooking the play, sat the
- abbot and some of his subordinates. They wore loose gowns of some dark
- material girt in at the waist, their only ornament, if ornament it could
- be called, was a rosary, and head and face were absolutely bare of hair.
- The abbot from a neighbouring monastery was introduced to me too, a man
- with a pleasant, thoughtful, cultured face and the most beautiful
- milk-white teeth. I was sorry I could not speak to that man. I felt
- somehow as if we might have met on a plane where nationalities and race
- count for little; but that would have been due to his culture and
- broadmindedness, not to mine.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there were the orphans. They were fat, well-fed looking little chaps
- dressed in unbleached calico trousers, and coats of the very brightest
- blue I have ever seen. Each wore on his breast, as a mark of the festive
- occasion, a bright pink carnation, and every head was shaven as bare as a
- billiard ball. They looked happy and well, but to my Western <span
- class="pagenum">148</span><a name="link148" id="link148"></a>eyes that
- last sanitary precaution, as I suppose it was, spoiled any claim they had
- to good looks. They ran races, they jumped about in sacks, they picked up
- hoops, they stood in clusters of six and sang in shrill young voices,
- weird and haunting songs that I was told were patriotic and full of hope
- for China. The three first in the races had their names proclaimed in
- black characters on white flags that were carried round the grounds, and
- there and then received their prizes, a handkerchief or some such trifle.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was interesting not so much for the sports themselves, those may be
- better seen in any well-regulated boys' school, but because this is
- the first time such efforts have been made in China, and made by the
- Chinese themselves. That a man should take any violent exercise, unless he
- were absolutely obliged, that he should have any ideal beyond looking fat,
- and sleek, and well-fed, is entirely contrary to all received Chinese
- ideas, and must mark a great step in their advancement.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then they brought me the youngest orphan, a wee, fat boy of eight, and
- though he looked well, he seemed much younger. Probably he was. As I
- understand it, the Chinese counts himself a year old in the year he is
- born, and the first New Year's day adds another year to his life, so
- that the child born on the last day of the old year, would on New Year's
- Day, be two years old! There is something very lovable about a small
- child, and there was about this little smiling chap, though he was
- unbecomingly dressed in coat and trousers of unbleached calico, and his
- head was shaven bare. He held out his hand to me when he was told, bowed
- low when <span class="pagenum">149</span><a name="link149" id="link149"></a>I
- gave him a little piece, a very little piece, of money, and then trotted
- across the grounds to where a young monk was looking on at the show. He
- caught hold of the monk's robe, and nestled against him, and the man
- put down a tender hand and caressed him. No child of his own, by his vows,
- would he ever have, but he was a tender father to this little lonely waif.
- A waif? He was well-fed, he was suitably clad, and here I saw with my own
- eyes he had tenderness, could any child have had more? Could men do more?
- And again I say, as I said when I looked at the Mission to the Blind, I
- think not. Very surely I think not. At least one of these monks was giving
- what no Westerner could possibly give to a child of an alien race, that
- tenderness that softens and smooths life. “They brought young
- children to Him, that He should touch them... and He took them up in His
- arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These monks profess a faith that was old when Christianity was born, but
- they are carrying out as faithfully as ever did any follower of Christ His
- behests. What matter the creed? What matter by what name we call it? Away
- in this old Eastern city here, they are preaching, in deeds, the gospel of
- love and kindness, and no man can do more.
- </p>
- <p>
- We are apt to think that charity and pity are attributes of the Christian
- faith only but that is to insult the many good and holy men of other
- faiths. I am not scorning the kindness and self-sacrifice of the Christian
- missionary, but it is better, where it is possible, that charity and pity
- for the Chinese should come from those of their own race. For, however
- tender and kind an alien may be, he still <span class="pagenum">150</span><a
- name="link150" id="link150"></a>stands outside, and the recipient to a
- certain extent is necessarily alone. Therefore am I doubly grateful to Mr
- Johnston for taking me to this Orphanage, where I could see how good the
- Chinese could be to the waifs and strays of their own people.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pity and mercy belong not to the Western nations alone. They come from the
- Most High, and are common to all His people, Christian missionary selling
- Bibles, and pitying the blind upon the Beggars' Bridge, or Buddhist
- monk taking to his heart the little forsaken child in the monastery of an
- older faith in the Chinese City. For such love as that we find in the
- world we, who look on, can only bow our heads and give thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX—A CHINESE INN
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">151</span><a name="link151" id="link151"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The start for Jehol—Tuan—A Peking cart—Chinese roads—A
- great highway—Chances of camping out—“Room for ten
- thousand merchant guests”—Human occupancy—Dust of ages—Eyes
- at the window—Catering for the journey—The Chinese chicken,
- minced.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here were two
- places that I particularly wanted to go to when I could make up my mind to
- tear myself away from the charms of Peking. One was the Tungling, or
- Eastern Tombs, the tombs where the great Empress-Dowager and most of the
- Manchu Emperors were buried, and Jehol, the Hunting Palace of the Manchus,
- away to the north in Inner Mongolia, or on the outermost edge of the
- Province of Chihli, for boundaries are vague things in that out-of-the-way
- part of the world. I wondered if I could combine them both if instead of
- coming back to Peking after visiting the tombs I might make my way over
- the mountains to Jehol. With that end in view I instituted inquiries, only
- to find that while many people knew a man, or had heard of several men who
- had been, I never struck the knowledgeable man himself. The only thing was
- to start out on my own account, and I knew then I should soon arrive at
- the difficulties to be overcome, not the least of them was two hundred
- <span class="pagenum">152</span><a name="link152" id="link152"></a>and
- eighty miles in a Peking cart. The only drawback to that arrangement was
- that if I didn't like the difficulties when I did meet them, there
- could be no drawing back. They would have to be faced.
- </p>
- <p>
- Accordingly I engaged a servant with a rudimentary knowledge of English.
- When the matter we spoke of was of no importance, such as my dinner, I
- could generally understand him, when it was of importance, such as the
- difficulties of the way, I could not, but I guessed, or the events
- themselves as they unfolded became explanatory. This gentleman was a small
- person with noble views on the subject of squeeze, as it pertained to
- Missie's servant, and he wore on state occasions a long black coat
- of brocaded silk, slit at the sides, and on all occasions the short hairs
- that fringed the shaven front of his head stood up like a black horsehair
- halo. He was badly pock-marked, very cheerful, and an excellent servant,
- engineering me over difficulties so well that I had to forgive him the
- squeeze, though in small matters I was occasionally made aware I was
- paying not double the price, but seven times what it ought to have been.
- However one buys one's experience. He was my first servant and I
- paid him thirty dollars a month, so I was squeezed on that basis. A six
- months' stay in China convinced me I could get as good a servant for
- fifteen dollars a month, and feel he was well paid.
- </p>
- <p>
- His name was Tuan, pronounced as if it began with a “D,” and
- he engaged for me two Peking carts with a driver each, and two mules
- apiece. One was for myself and some of my luggage, the other took <span
- class="pagenum">153</span><a name="link153" id="link153"></a>my servant,
- my humble kitchen utensils, and the rest of my baggage; and one Sunday
- morning in May, it is hardly necessary to say it was sunny, because a dull
- morning in May in Northern China is an exception hailed with joy, the
- carts appeared at the door of the “Wagons Lits,” and we were
- ready to start. At least everything was ready but me. I ached in every
- limb, and felt sure that I was just beginning an attack of influenza. What
- was to be done? I longed with a great longing for my peaceful bed. I did
- not want to go venturing forth into the, to me, unknown wilds of China,
- but I had engaged those carts at the rate of seven dollars a day for the
- two, and I felt that I really could not afford to linger. Possibly the
- fresh air might do me good. At any rate, I reflected thankfully, as I
- climbed into the foremost cart, no active exertion was required of me. And
- that only shows how remarkably little I knew about a Peking cart. A man
- and a girl of my acquaintance rose up early in the morning to accompany me
- the first ten miles on donkeys, we had tiffin together beneath the shade
- of some pine-trees in a graveyard, and then they wished me good-bye, and I
- started off with the comfortable feeling that arises from the parting good
- wishes of kind friends.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now a Peking cart is a very venerable mode of progression. When our
- ancestors were lightly dressed in woad, and had no conception of any
- wheeled vehicle, the Chinese lady was paying her calls sitting in the back
- of a Peking cart, the seat of honour under the tilt, well out of the sight
- of the passers-by, while-her servant sat in front, the place of comfort,
- if such a word can be applied to anything <span class="pagenum">154</span><a
- name="link154" id="link154"></a>pertaining to a Peking cart, for in spite
- of its long and aristocratic record if there is any mode of progression
- more wearying and uncomfortable I have not met it. It is simply a
- springless board set on a couple of wheels with a wagon tilt of blue
- cotton, if you are not imperial, over it, and a place for heavy luggage
- behind. The Chinaman sits on the floor and does not seem to mind, but the
- ordinary Westerner, such as I am, packs his bedding and all the cushions
- he can raise around him, and then resigns himself to his fate. It has one
- advantage people will tell you, it has nothing to break in it, but there
- are moments when it would be a mighty relief if something did break, for
- if the woodwork holds together, as it tosses you from side to side, you
- yourself are one sore, bruised mass. No, I cannot recommend a Peking cart,
- even on the smoothest road.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the roads in China are not smooth. We all know the description of the
- snakes in Ireland, “There are no snakes,” and if in the same
- manner could be described the roads in China, blessed would the roads in
- China be, but as China is a densely populated country there are so-called
- roads, upon which the people move about, but I have seldom met one that
- was any better than the surrounding country, and very, very often on this
- journey did I meet roads where it was ease and luxury to move off them on
- to the neighbouring ploughed field. The receipt for a road there in the
- north seems to be: Take a piece of the country that is really too bad to
- plough or to use for any agricultural purposes whatever, that a mountain
- torrent, in fact, has given up as too much for the water, <span
- class="pagenum">155</span><a name="link155" id="link155"></a>upset a stone
- wall over it, a stone wall with good large stones in it, take care they
- never for a moment lie evenly, and you have your road.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> </a>
- </p>
-
-<div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0233.jpg" alt="0233 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0233.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
-
- <p>
- Leaving Peking for the Eastern Tombs you go for the first two or three
- hours along a paved way of magnificent proportions, planned and laid out
- as a great highway should be. The great stones with which it is paved were
- probably put there by slave labour, how many hundred years ago I do not
- know, but the blocks are uneven now, some of them are gone altogether,
- though how a huge block of stone could possibly disappear passes my
- understanding, and whenever the carter could, he took the cart down beside
- the road, where at least the dust made a cushion for the nail-studded
- wheels, and the jarring and the jolting were not quite so terrible.
- </p>
- <p>
- It takes as long to get beyond the environs of Peking in a cart as it does
- to get out of London in a motor-car. First we passed through the
- Babylonish gate, and the great walls were behind us, then, outside the
- city, all looking dusty, dirty, and khaki-coloured in the brilliant
- sunshine, were numerous small houses, and the wayside was lined with
- booths on which were things for sale, green vegetables and salads looking
- inviting, if I could have forgotten the danger of enteric,
- unappetising-looking meat, bones, the backbones of sheep from which all
- flesh had been taken, eggs, piles of cakes and small pies, shoes, clothes,
- samovars, everything a poor man in a primitive community can possibly
- require, and along the roadway came an endless array of people, clad for
- the most part in blue cotton, men walking, men with loads slung from a
- <span class="pagenum">156</span><a name="link156" id="link156"></a>bamboo
- across their shoulders, donkeys laden with baskets, with sacks of grain,
- with fat Chinese on their backs, with small-footed women being transported
- from one place to another; there were Peking carts, there were mules,
- there were ponies; and this busy throng is almost the same as it was a
- couple of thousand years ago. I wondered; could I have taken a peep at the
- outskirts of London in the days of Elizabeth of happy memory, would it not
- have been like this? But no. The sky here is bright and clear, the
- sunshine hot, and the faces of the moving crowd are yellow and oriental.
- This crowd is like the men who toiled round the quarries of Babylon or
- Nineveh, and it is perhaps more satisfied with itself and its position in
- the universe than any like company of people anywhere in the world. That
- impression was forced upon me as I stayed in Peking, it grew and grew as I
- got farther away from the great city, and out into the country.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was a long, long while before I could feel I was really in the
- country. There was the khaki-coloured land, there were the khaki-coloured
- houses built of mud apparently, with graceful, tiled roofs, and blue-clad
- people everywhere, and everywhere at work. Always the fields were most
- beautifully tilled, there were no fences, the Chinese is too civilised to
- need a fence, and when you see stone walls it is only because, since they
- can't be dropped off the planet into space, the stones must be
- disposed of somehow, here and there the kaoliang was coming up like young
- wheat, in vivid green patches that were a relief from the general dust,
- and occasionally there were trees, willow or poplar or fir, delightful to
- look upon, that marked a graveyard, <span class="pagenum">157</span><a
- name="link157" id="link157"></a>and then, just as I was beginning to hope
- I was out in the country, a walled town would loom up.
- </p>
- <p>
- And in the dusk of the evening we stopped and met for the first time the
- discomforts of a Chinese inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had started rather late, and I had spent so much time bidding farewell
- to my friends, that we did not reach the town we had intended to, but put
- up at a small inn in a small hamlet. This, my first inn was, like most
- Chinese inns, a line of one-storied buildings, built round the four sides
- of a large courtyard. Mixed up with the rooms were the stalls for the
- beasts, the mules and the little grey donkeys, with an occasional pony or
- two, and the courtyard was dotted with stone or wooden mangers. In the
- pleasant May weather there was no need to put all the beasts under cover,
- and there were so many travellers there was not room in the stalls for all
- the beasts.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was all wonderfully Eastern. I remembered, I could not but remember,
- how once there arrived at such an inn a little company, weary and tired,
- and “so it was, that while they were there, the days were
- accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her
- first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a
- manger: because there was no room for them in the inn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought of that little company as the Peking cart jolted over the step
- that is on the threshold of all Chinese doors—no one considers
- comfort in China, what is a jolt more or less, a Peking cart will not
- break—and I found myself in the courtyard, and a trestle was brought
- for me to get down from <span class="pagenum">158</span><a
- name="link158_rdquo_________id_" id="link158_rdquo_________id_"></a>the
- cart. I might have jumped, I suppose, but one hundred li, about thirty
- miles, had left me stiff and aching in every limb. My head ached too with
- the influenza, and when I inspected the room offered for my accommodation,
- I only wished drearily that there had been no room in this particular inn,
- and that I might have slept out in the open.
- </p>
- <p>
- But that first day as I went across the plain, that while there were no
- hills upon it rose slowly towards the hills, I realised that in China,
- there is not the charm of the open road, you may not sleep under the sky,
- you must put up at an inn, you would as soon think of camping out in one
- of the suburbs of London. Indeed you might easily find more suitable
- places for camping about Surbiton or Richmond than you would among the
- sterile hills or cultivated valley bottoms of Northern China. I hoped
- against hope for three days. I had a comfortable sleeping-bag and the
- nights were fine, it seemed it would be so simple a thing to camp a little
- off the roadside, even though I had no tent, and that first night, when I
- smelled the smell of the rooms, rank and abominable, and reeking of human
- occupancy, I envied my mules, and said that as I got farther into the
- country I could certainly sleep outside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Room for ten thousand merchant guests,” said the innkeeper in
- characters of black on red paper over his door, and unless those merchants
- were very small indeed, I am sure I don't know where he proposed to
- put them. I remembered with a shudder, that one man of my acquaintance had
- said: “What I cannot stand is the perpetual tramp, <span
- class="pagenum">159</span><a name="link159" id="link159"></a>tramp, all
- night,” and I had my suspicions that the guests were small on this
- occasion, and I feared lest they were going to be catered for. There were
- also notices in the effective red and black that the landlord would not be
- responsible for any valuables not confided to his care, and exhorting the
- guests to be careful of fire. And it seemed to me, as I looked at the
- rotting thatch and the dubious grey walls, that a fire in this inn would
- be the very best thing that could happen to it. You see I was specially
- particular this first night. I thought the next inn might be better. I had
- a good deal to learn. “The tiger from the Eastern Hills and the
- tiger from the Western Hills,” says the Chinese proverb, “are
- both the same.” So everywhere a Chinese inn is about as bad as it
- can be. They are mostly used by carters, and well-to-do people always go
- to temples, when they are available. There wasn't a temple about
- here, and I didn't know I could have lodged there had there been
- one, so I resigned myself to the inevitable, and wondered with all the
- energy that was left in me what adverse fate had set me down here. I might
- have gone back, of course. In a way I was my own mistress; but after all,
- we none of us own ourselves in this world. I had a book to write, and
- material for that book was not to be got by staying comfortably in the
- Wagons Lits Hotel, and therefore I very reluctantly peeped into a room
- from which clouds of dust were issuing, and which smelt worse than any
- place I had ever before thought of using as a bed-chamber and dining-room
- combined. The dust was because I had impressed upon the valued Tuan that I
- must have a clean room, so he had importantly turned <span class="pagenum">160</span><a
- name="link160" id="link160"></a>two coolies on to stir up the dust of
- ages, a thousand years at least, I should say, there seemed no end to it,
- and I wondered, in addition to the merchant guests, what awful microbes
- were being wakened out of their long sleep. Left alone, they might have
- been buried so deep that they might not have come nigh me; but he was
- giving them all a chance. After all it was only fair, a foreign woman did
- not visit a Chinese inn every day of the week. After more dust than I had
- ever seen before all at once, had come out of that room, I instructed
- water to be brought and poured on things in general, and, when the turmoil
- had quieted down a little, I went in and inspected my quarters.
- </p>
- <p>
- They all bear a strong family resemblance to one another, the rooms of
- these Chinese inns. I always tried to get one that opened directly on to
- the courtyard, as giving more chance of air. The Chinese, as a rule, have
- not much use for fresh air. Tuan, had he had his way, would have shut the
- door fast, as being more correct and private, and then I should have been
- in an hermetically sealed room, lighted all along the courtyard side by a
- most dainty latticework window covered with white tissue paper, or rather
- tissue paper that had once been white. It had been well-smoked during the
- winter, and a considerable quantity of the dust that had been so
- industriously stirred up, had lodged there. But air I must have, so I had
- the paper stripped off from the top of the window as far down as my desire
- for privacy would allow. Below, the more daring spirits, who had assembled
- to see the foreign woman, wetted their fingers and poked them softly
- through the bottom part of the window; and then <span class="pagenum">161</span><a
- name="link161" id="link161"></a>an eye appeared, so that it really seemed
- at first as if I might as well have been comfortable and had all the paper
- off. I went outside, and let it plainly be seen that I was very angry
- indeed, and then Tuan, who had a great idea of my dignity, or rather of
- his dignity, which was as nothing if I was of no consequence, put one of
- the “cartee men” on guard, and once more I retired to my
- uncomfortable lodging. It had a stone floor, being quite a superior sort
- of inn, the poorer sort have only beaten earth, there were two wooden
- chairs of dark wood, high, with narrow and uncomfortable seats, a table,
- also uncomfortably high, and of course, the k'ang. Most people know
- all about the k'ang now, but this was my first introduction to it as
- a working piece of furniture. It is a platform of stone about two feet
- high, so constructed that a small fire lighted underneath, and a very
- small fire it is, carries the warmth, by a system of flues, all over it.
- It is covered generally with matting, and on it is always a k'ang
- table, a little table about eighteen inches square and a foot high, and,
- though this is not intentional, covered with the grease of many meals.
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked doubtfully at the k'ang this first day. It seemed to me I
- could not lodge in such a place, and I wished heartily that I had left the
- describing of China to some more hardened traveller. There was a grass mat
- upon it, hiding its stoniness, and I had powdered borax sprinkled over it,
- about half a tin of Keating's followed, though I am told the insects
- in China rather like Keating's, and only then did I venture to have
- my bed set up. Alongside was placed my india-rubber bath, the gift of a
- friend, and every night of that journey did I thank her with <span
- class="pagenum">162</span><a name="link162" id="link162"></a>all my heart,
- it was so much nicer than my old canvas bath, and making sure that the
- “cartee man” was still on guard I proceeded to wash and
- undress and creep into my sleeping-bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- At only one Chinese inn where I stayed could food for the traveller be
- had, and that was, I think, only because it combined the functions of
- innkeeping and restaurant. In any case, of course, the foreign traveller
- would not think of eating Chinese food, and I, like everyone else,
- provided my own. I brought with me rice, tea, and flour. Tuan cooked for
- me on an absurd little charcoal stove upon which I might have succeeded in
- boiling an egg. With the exception of those few stores, I lived off the
- country, buying chickens and eggs, onions, and hard little pears; Tuan
- doing the buying, charging me at a rate that made me wonder how on earth
- the “Wagons Lits” managed to board and lodge its guests at a
- day. I used to think that, for sheer toughness, the palm might be given to
- the West African chicken, but I withdraw that statement, he isn't in
- it alongside the Chinese. We used to buy small birds about the size of a
- pigeon, But an elderly ostrich couldn't have been tougher. My teeth,
- thank Heaven, are excellent, but the Chinese chicken was too much for
- them. I then saw why Tuan had provided a chopper for kitchen use, he
- called it “cookee knife,” and the fiat went forth—I
- would have no more chicken unless it was minced.
- </p>
- <p>
- But that first night I couldn't look at chicken, I couldn't
- even laugh at the woodeny pears and rice which were the next course. I
- declined everything, lay in bed and drank tea, the wind came in through
- <span class="pagenum">163</span><a name="link163" id="link163"></a>the
- open lattice-work, guttered my candle and then blew it out, and I, first
- hot, and then cold, and always miserable, stared at the luminous night
- sky, cut into squares by the lattice-work of the window, was conscious of
- every bone in my body, and wondered if I were not going to be very ill
- indeed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0243.jpg" alt="0243 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0243.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X—THE TUNGLING
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">164</span><a name="link164" id="link164"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>A Peking cart as a cure for influenza—Difficulties of a narrow
- road—The dead have right of way—The unlucky women—Foot
- binding—“Beat you, beat you”—Lost luggage—“You
- must send your husband”—Letter-writing under difficulties—A
- masterless woman—Malanyu—Most perfect place of tombs in the
- world.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut I wasn't.
- As a rule I find I worry myself unnecessarily in life. Either a thing can
- be altered, or it can't. If it can't there's an end to
- the matter, worrying doesn't mend it. I had come here of my own free
- will—it wasn't nice, but there was nothing to do but make the
- best of it. In the morning if I wasn't very happy I was no worse,
- and to go back that weary journey to Peking would only be to make myself
- ridiculous. Therefore I arose with the sun, and a nice, bright cheerful
- sun he was, looked at my breakfast, drank the tea and was ready to start.
- All the hamlet watched me climb into my cart. I felt I couldn't have
- walked a step to save my life, and we rumbled over that steep step, and
- were out in the roadway again.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is not the best way to view a country from a Peking cart, for the
- tossing from side to side is apt to engender a distaste for life and to
- encourage a feeling that nothing would really matter if only the cart
- would come to a standstill for a moment. Add to that the aching head of
- influenza and that morning <span class="pagenum">165</span><a
- name="link165" id="link165"></a>I began to pity not only myself but my
- publisher, for I began to fear he was going to lose money on me. It was
- Byron, I think, who considered that Providence or somebody else who shall
- be nameless always took care of publishers, and that is the reason perhaps
- why I have come to the opinion that a trip in a Peking cart is really the
- best cure for influenza. Had I gone to bed and had someone kind and nice
- to wait upon me and bring me the milk and soda and offer the sympathy my
- soul desired, I should probably have taken a fortnight to get well; as it
- was, out in the open air from dawn to dark, three days saw the end of my
- woes, and even at the worst I was able to sit up and take a certain amount
- of interest in passing events.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gradually, gradually, as we went on we seemed to forget the great city
- that absorbed all things, and the surroundings became more truly
- countrified. The road, when it was not stones, was deep sand with deep,
- deep ruts worn by the passing of many carts, and it stretched over just as
- great a portion of the country as the people would allow. Flat it was,
- flat, and all along the way were little villages and hamlets. There was no
- temptation to walk, for it was very rough indeed, just the worn road and
- the edge of the tilled fields, tilled as surely never before in the world
- were fields tilled, and they stretched away to the far distant blue hills.
- Occasionally the road sank deep between them, and as it was very narrow
- the traffic question was sometimes troublesome. On this day we met a
- country cart, a longer cart than the Peking cart, covered in with matting
- and drawn by a mule and a couple of donkeys. Manifestly there was not room
- for the carts to pass <span class="pagenum">166</span><a
- name="link166_rdquo_________id_" id="link166_rdquo_________id_"></a>and I
- wondered what would happen for, for either of us, laden as we were, to go
- backwards would have been difficult. I was requested to get out, which I
- did reluctantly, my carts were drawn so close against the bank that the
- right wheels were raised against it, and then they tried to get the other
- cart past. No good, it would not go. About a dozen men all in dirty, very
- dirty blue, with pointed hats of grass matting, looking as if they had
- stepped off old-fashioned tea caddies, came and took an intelligent
- interest, even as they might have done in Staffordshire, but that didn't
- make the carts any smaller, and then they decided to drive the country
- cart up the bank into the field above. They tried and tried, they lashed
- that unfortunate mule and the donkeys, but with all their pulling it was
- too heavy, up the bank it would not go. Chinese patience was exemplified.
- But it was the mule and the donkeys that really displayed the patience. I
- climbed the bank, sat on a stone and watched them, and did not like to
- give my valuable advice, because these men must have been driving carts
- along these roads all their lives, and presumably must know something
- about it, while never in my life had I handled a team consisting of two
- donkeys and a mule. At last when they got an extra hard lashing and fell
- back, conquered once more, poor brutes, by the weight, I rose up and
- interfered. I did not request—I ordered. They were to take the two
- foremost mules from my carts and hitch them on to the other cart. My
- foremost mule protested, he evidently said he had never been associated
- with donkeys before; but in two minutes they had got that cart to the
- higher level, and we were free to go on our way. Why <span class="pagenum">167</span><a
- name="link167" id="link167"></a>they did not do it without my ordering I
- am sure I do not know, for as a rule I had no authority over the carts,
- they went their own way—I was merely a passenger.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once more that day the narrow way was blocked, this time by a funeral. The
- huge coffin was borne by ten straining men, and there was no parleying
- with it, the dead have right of way in China, and out of the way we had to
- get. We backed with difficulty till the bank on one side was a little
- lower, and then up we went till we were on the cultivated land, drove on
- till we were ahead of the corpse, and then down again into the roadway
- once more.
- </p>
- <p>
- In China, as far as I have been, you never get away from the people, this
- country was far more thickly populated than the country round London, for
- I have walked in Surrey lanes and found no one of whom to ask a question,
- while here there were always people in sight. True, here were no leafy
- lanes such as we find in Surrey and Kent, but the whole country lay flat
- and outstretched till it seemed as if nothing were hidden right up to the
- base of the far away hills. The days were getting hot and the men were
- working in the fields stripped to the waist, while most of the little boys
- were stark naked, pretty little lissom things they were, too, if they had
- only been washed; and the little girls, for all clothing, wore a square
- blue pocket-handkerchief put on corner-wise in front, slung round the neck
- and tied round the waist with a bit of string; but farther on, in the
- mountain villages, I have seen the little girls like the little boys,
- stark naked. Only the women are clothed to the neck, whatever the state of
- the thermometer. Always there were houses by the <span class="pagenum">168</span><a
- name="link168" id="link168"></a>wayside, and many villages and hamlets,
- and the women sat on the doorsteps sewing, generally it seemed to me at
- the sole of a shoe, or two of them laboured at the little stone corn
- mills, that were in every village, grinding the corn, the millet, or the
- maize, for household use. Sometimes a donkey, and a donkey can be bought
- for a very small sum, turned the stone, but usually it seemed that it was
- the women of the household who, on their tiny feet, painfully hobbled
- round, turning the heavy stone and smoothing out the flour with their
- hands, so that it might be smoothly and evenly ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- Poor women! They have a saying in China to the effect that a woman eats
- bitterness, and she surely does, if the little I have seen of her life is
- any criterion. As I went through the villages, in the morning and evening,
- I could hear the crying of children. Chinese children are proverbially
- naughty, no one ever checks them, and I could not know why these children
- were crying, some probably from the pure contrariness of human nature, but
- a missionary woman, and a man who scorned missionaries and all their works
- both told me that, morning and evening, the little girls cried because the
- bandages on their feet were being drawn more tightly. Always it is a
- gnawing pain, and the only relief the little girl can get is by pressing
- the calf of her leg tightly against the edge of the k'ang. The
- pressure stops the flow of blood and numbs the feet as long as it is kept
- up, but it cannot be kept up long, and with the rush of blood comes the
- increase of pain—a pain that the tightening of the bandages deepens.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beat you, beat you,” cries the mother taking a <span
- class="pagenum">169</span><a name="link169" id="link169"></a>stick to the
- little suffering thing, “you cry when I bind your feet.” For a
- Chinese woman must show no emotion, above all she must never complain.
- This, of course, is a characteristic of the nation. The men will bear much
- without complaining.
- </p>
- <p>
- I never grew accustomed to it. The pity and the horror of it never failed
- to strike me, and if the missionaries do but one good work, they do it in
- prevailing on the women to unbind their feet, in preventing unlucky little
- girls from going through years of agony.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is no mistaking the gait of a woman with bound feet. She walks as if
- her legs were made of wood, unbending from the hip downwards to the heels.
- The feet are tiny, shaped like small hoofs about four inches long, encased
- in embroidered slippers, and to walk at all she must hold out her arms to
- balance herself. When I was laughed at for my “pathetic note,”
- and was told I exaggerated the sufferings of the women, I took the trouble
- to inquire of four doctors, three men and one woman, people who came daily
- in contact with these women, and they were all of one opinion, the
- sufferings of the women were very great. The binding in girlhood was not
- only terribly painful but even after the process was finished the feet
- were often diseased, often sore and ulcerated, and at the very best the
- least exertion, as is only natural, makes them ache.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Try,” said one doctor, “walking with your toes crushed
- under your sole, the arch of your foot pressed up till the whole foot is
- barely four inches long, and you can only walk on your heel, and see if
- you do not suffer—suffer in all parts of your body. They say,”
- he went on, “that while there are many <span class="pagenum">170</span><a
- name="link170" id="link170"></a>peaceful, kindly old men among the
- Chinese, every woman is a shrew. And I can well believe it. What else
- could you expect? Oh women have a mighty thin time in China. I don't
- believe there is any place in the world where they have a worse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If anyone doubts that this custom presses heavily on the women, let him
- ask any doctor who has practised much among the Chinese how many legs he
- has taken off because the neglected sores of ulcerated, bound feet have
- become gangrenous and a danger to life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It really doesn't matter,” said another doctor I knew
- well, “a Chinese woman is just as well with a pair of wooden legs as
- with the stumps the binding has left her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- As a rule I did not see the beginnings, for though the women go about a
- little, the small girls are kept at home. But once on this journey, at a
- poor little inn in the mountains, among the crowd gathered to see the
- foreign woman were two little girls about eight or nine, evidently the
- innkeeper's daughters. They were well-dressed among a ragged crew.
- Their smocks were of bright blue cotton, their neat little red cotton
- trousers were drawn in at their ankles, and their feet, in tiny
- embroidered shoes, were about big enough for a child of three. There was
- paint on their cheeks to hide their piteous whiteness, and their faces
- were drawn with that haunting look which long-continued pain gives. As
- they stood they rested their hands on their companions' shoulders,
- and, when they moved, it was with extreme difficulty. No one took any
- notice of them. They were simply little girls suffering the usual agonies
- that custom has ordained a woman <span class="pagenum">171</span><a
- name="link171" id="link171"></a>shall suffer before she is considered a
- meet plaything and slave for a man. A woman who would be of any standing
- at all must so suffer. Poor little uncomplaining mites, they laughed and
- talked, but their faces, white and strained under the paint, haunted me
- the livelong night, and I felt that I who stood by and suffered this thing
- was guilty of a wicked wrong to my fellows.
- </p>
- <p>
- And foot binding may result in death. There was a child whose father, a
- widower, not knowing what to do with his little girl, an asset of small
- value, sold her to a woman of ill repute. The little slave was five years
- old, but as yet, her feet had not been bound. Her mistress of course took
- her in hand and bound her feet, so that she might be married some day. But
- her feet being bound did not exempt small Wong Lan from her household
- duties. Every morning, baby as she was, she had to get up, kindle the
- fire, and take hot water to her mistress, who, in her turn, did not give
- the attention they required to the poor little feet. With feet sore,
- ulcerated and dirty, she went about such household duties as a little
- child could do, till they grew so bad she could only lie about and moan,
- and was a nuisance to the woman who had taken her. At last a man living in
- the same courtyard had pity on her. He was a mason and had worked at the
- great hospital the foreigners had set up just outside the walls of the
- city where they lived, and he took her in his arms, a baby not yet seven,
- and brought her to the doctor. She had cried and cried, he said, and he
- thought she would die if she were left. The doctor when he took her
- thought she was going to die whether she were left or not. There and then
- he took a pair of <span class="pagenum">172</span><a
- name="link172_rdquo_________id_" id="link172_rdquo_________id_"></a>scissors,
- snapped two threads and one foot was off, still in its filthy little
- slipper. The whole leg was gangrenous and they nursed the baby up for a
- week till she was strong enough to have the leg amputated at the hip. She
- grew better, though the doctor shook his head over her. The missionaries
- decided they had better keep her, and as she recovered, they set about
- getting her crutches. A Chinese woman evidently begins to be
- self-conscious very soon, for the mite cried bitterly when they wanted to
- measure her. The Chinese have a great horror of any deformity, and she
- thought she would be an object of scorn if she went about on crutches, and
- everyone could see she had only one leg. Her idea was that she should sit
- all day long on the k'ang, and then it would be hidden. However, her
- guardians prevailed, and presently she was hopping about the missionary
- compound, and being a pretty, taking little girl soon found friends who
- forgot, or what was more important, taught Her to forget, that she was
- crippled. Someone gave her a doll, and with this treasure tucked under her
- arm, she paid visits from one house to the other, happy as the day was
- long, petted by Chinese and foreigners alike. But the doctor who had
- shaken his head over her at first was right. The poison was in her system,
- and in a little over six months from the day she was brought in to the
- hospital she died. Poor little mite! For six months she had been perfectly
- happy. The man who had brought her in made her a coffin, the aliens who
- had succoured and cared for her laid her there with the doll she had been
- so proud of in her arms, and told all the Chinese who had known her they
- might come and say a last farewell. They came, <span class="pagenum">173</span><a
- name="link173" id="link173"></a>and then—oh curious human nature!—someone
- stole the poor little makeshift doll from the dead baby's arms!
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course cruelty to children is a sin that is met with in countries
- nearer home, is, in fact, more common in Christian England than in heathen
- China. This was a death that was attributable to the low value that is set
- on the girl child and to the cruel custom of binding the feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- And not hundreds and thousands but millions of women so suffer. The
- practice, they say, is dying out among the more enlightened in the towns,
- but in the country, within fifteen miles of Peking, it is in full swing.
- Not only are these “golden lilies” considered beautiful, but
- the woman with bound feet is popularly supposed to care more for the
- caresses of her lord, than she with natural feet. Of course, a man may not
- choose his wife, his mother does that for him, he may not even see her,
- but he can, and very naturally often does, ask questions about her. The
- question he generally asks is not: “Has she a pretty face?”
- but: “Has she small feet?” But if he did not think about it,
- the women of his family would consider it for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A woman told me, how, in the north of Chihli, the custom was for the women
- of the bridegroom's family to gather round the newly arrived bride
- who sat there, silent and submissive, while they made comments upon her
- appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoo! she's ugly!” Or worst taunt of all, “Hoo!
- What big feet she's got!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Many will tell you it is not the men who insist upon bound feet, but the
- women. And, if that is so, to me it only deepens the tragedy. Imagine
- <span class="pagenum">174</span><a name="link174" id="link174"></a>how
- apart the women must be from the men, when they think, without a shadow of
- truth, that to be pleasing to a man, a woman must be crippled. The women
- are hardly to be blamed. If they are so ignorant as to believe that no
- woman with large feet can hope to become a wife and mother, what else can
- they do but bind the little girls' feet? Would any woman dare
- deprive her daughter of all chance of wifehood and motherhood by leaving
- her feet unbound? Oh the lot of a woman in China is a cruel one, civilised
- into a man's toy and slave. I had a thousand times rather be a
- negress, one of those business-like trading women of Tarquah, or one of
- the capable, independent housewives of Keta. But to be a Chinese woman!
- God forbid!
- </p>
- <p>
- It seems very difficult to make a Chinaman understand that a woman has any
- rights, even a foreign woman, apart from a man. I remember being
- particularly struck with this once at Pao Ting Fu, the capital of Chihli,
- a walled town about three hours by rail from Peking. I lost a third of my
- luggage by the way, because the powers that be, having charged me a dollar
- and a half for its carriage, divided it into three parts, and by the time
- I had discovered in what corner the last lot was stowed, the train was
- moving on, and I could only be comfortably sure it was being taken away
- from me at the rate of twenty miles an hour. However, the stationmaster
- assured Dr Lewis, the missionary doctor with whom I was living, that it
- should be brought back by the next day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Accordingly, next day, accompanied by a coolie who spoke no English, I
- wended my way to the railway station and inquired for that luggage. The
- <span class="pagenum">175</span><a name="link175" id="link175"></a>coolie
- had been instructed what to say, and I thought they would simply bring me
- into contact with my lost property. I would pay any money that was due,
- and the thing would be finished. But I had not reckoned on my standing, or
- want of standing, as a woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0257.jpg" alt="0257 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0257.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Nobody could speak a word of English. In the course of five minutes I
- should say, the entire station staff of Pao Ting Fu stood around me, and
- vociferously gave me their views—on the weather and the latest
- political developments for all I know. If it was about the luggage I was
- no wiser. Some were dressed in khaki, some in dark cloth with uniform
- caps, and most had the wild hair that comes to the lower classes with the
- cutting off of the queue. There were about a dozen of them with a few
- idlers in blue cotton, patched, dirty, faded, and darned, and some of
- these wore queues, queues that had been slept in for about a week without
- attention, and they were all quite anxious to be nice to the foreign
- woman, and took turns in trying to make her understand. In vain. What they
- wanted I could not imagine. At last a lane opened, and I guessed the
- vociferating crowd were saying: “Here is the very man to tackle the
- situation.” There came along a little man in dark cloth who stood
- before me and in the politest manner laid a dirty, admonitory finger upon
- my breast He had a rudimentary knowledge of English but it was very
- rudimentary, and I remembered promptly that this was a French railway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Parlez-vous Français?</i>” said I, wondering if my French
- would carry me through.
- </p>
- <p>
- He shook his head. As a matter of fact English, <span class="pagenum">176</span><a
- name="link176" id="link176"></a>pidgin-English, is the language of China,
- when another tongue is wanted, and my new friend's English was not
- at all bad—what there was of it. Though why I should go to their
- country and expect these people to understand me I'm sure I do not
- know.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your luggage is here,” said he very slowly, emphasising every
- word by a tap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank Heaven,” I sighed, “take me to it,” but he
- paid no heed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You”—and he tapped on solemnly—“must—send—your—husband.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was a puzzler. “My husband,” I said meekly, “is
- dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It looked like a deadlock. It was apparently impossible to deliver up her
- luggage to a woman whose husband was dead. Everybody on the platform,
- including the idlers, made some suggestion to relieve the strain, and
- feeling that it might help matters, I said he had been dead a very long
- time, I was a lonely orphan and I had no brothers. They probably discussed
- the likelihood of my having any other responsible male belongings and
- dismissed it, and the man, who knew English, returned to the charge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where—do—you—stay?” and he tapped his way
- through the sentence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At Dr Lewis's.” I felt like doing it singsong fashion
- myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—must—tell—Lu Tai Fu—to—come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” I remonstrated, “Dr Lewis is busy, and he does
- not know the luggage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was another long confabulation, then a brilliant idea flashed like a
- meteor across the crowd. <span class="pagenum">177</span><a
- name="link177_rdquo_________id_" id="link177_rdquo_________id_"></a>"You—must—go—back—and—write—a—
- letter,” and with a decisive tap my linguist friend stood back, and
- the whole crowd looked at me as much as to say that settled it most
- satisfactorily.
- </p>
- <p>
- I argued the matter. I wanted to see the luggage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The—luggage—is—here”—tapped my
- friend, reproachfully, as if regretting I should be so foolish—“you—must—go—back—write—one—
- piecey—letter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll write it here,” said I, and after about a quarter
- of an hour taken up in tapping, I was conducted round to the back of the
- station, an elderly inkpot and a very, very elderly pen with a point like
- a very rusty pin were produced, but there was no paper. Everyone looked
- about, under the benches, up at the ceiling, and at last one really
- resourceful person produced a luggage label of a violent yellow hue, and
- on the back of that, with some difficulty, for as well as the bad pen,
- there was a suspicion of gum on the paper, I wrote a letter to “Dear
- Sir” requesting that responsible individual to hand over my luggage
- to my servant, I signed my name with as big a flourish as the size of the
- label would allow, and then I stood back and awaited developments.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everybody in the room looked at that valuable document. They tried it
- sideways, they tried it upside down, but no light came. At last the
- linguist remarked with his usual tap:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—can—read.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, I could read English, so with great <i>empressement</i> and as if I
- were conferring a great favour, I read that erudite document aloud to the
- admiring crowd, even to my own name, and such was the magic of the written
- word, that in about two <span class="pagenum">178</span><a
- name="link178_rdquo_________id_" id="link178_rdquo_________id_"></a>minutes
- the lost luggage appeared, and was handed over to my waiting coolie! Only
- when I was gone doubt fell once more upon the company. Could a woman, a
- masterless woman, be trusted? they questioned. And the stationmaster sent
- word to Lu Tai Fu that he must have his card to show that it was all
- right!
- </p>
- <p>
- If a woman counted for so little in a town where the foreigner was well
- known, could I expect much in out-of-the-way parts. I didn't expect
- much, luckily. The people came and looked at me, and they were invariably
- courteous and polite, with an old-world courtesy that must have come down
- to them through the ages, but they did not envy, I felt it very strongly—at
- bottom they were contemptuous. As I have seen the lower classes in an
- Australian mining town, as I myself have looked upon a stranger in an
- outlandish dress in the streets of London, so these country people looked
- upon me. It was just as well to make the most of a show, because their
- lives were uneventful, that was all.
- </p>
- <p>
- It began to get on my nerves before I had done, this contemptuous
- curiosity. I don't know that I was exactly afraid, but I grew to
- understand why missionaries perish when the people have all apparently
- been well-disposed. These people would not have robbed me themselves, but
- had I met any of the robbers I had been threatened with in Peking, I am
- sure not one of them would have raised even a finger to help me, they
- would not even have protested. I was outside their lives.
- </p>
- <p>
- And at last, at Malanyu, the hills that at first had loomed purple on the
- horizon, fairly overshadowed us, and I had arrived at the first stage of
- my <span class="pagenum">179</span><a name="link179" id="link179"></a>journey,
- the Tungling, or Eastern Tombs. We did forty miles that day over the
- roughest road I had gone yet, and thankful was I when we rumbled through
- the gates of the dirty, crowded, little town.
- </p>
- <p>
- We put up at the smallest and filthiest inn I had yet met. Chinese towns,
- even the smallest country hamlet, are always suggestive of slums, and
- Malanyu was worse than usual, but I slept the sleep of the utterly weary,
- and next morning at sunrise I had breakfast and went to see the tombs. I
- went in state, in my own cart with an extra mule on in front, I seated
- under the tilt a little back, and my servant and the head “cartee
- man” on the shafts; and then I discovered that if a loaded cart is
- an abomination before the Lord, a light cart is something unspeakable. But
- we had seen the wall that went round the tombs the night Before, just the
- other side of the town, so I consoled myself with the reflection that my
- sufferings would not be for long.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the Imperial Manchus sought a last resting-place for themselves they
- had the whole of China to choose from, and they took with Oriental
- disregard for humbler people; but—saving grace—they chose
- wisely though they chose cruelly. They have taken for their own a place
- just where the mountains begin, a place that must be miles in extent. It
- is of rich alluvial soil swept down by the rains from the hills, and all
- China, with her teeming population, cannot afford to waste one inch of
- soil. The tiniest bit of arable land, as I had been seeing for the last
- three days, is put to some use, it is tilled and planted and carefully
- tended, though it bear only a single fruit-tree, only a handful of grain,
- but here we entered a park, waste land covering many miles, wasted with
- <span class="pagenum">180</span><a name="link180" id="link180"></a>a royal
- disregard for the people's needs. It lay in a great bay of the
- hills, sterile, stony, rugged hills with no trace of green upon them,
- hills that stand up a perfect background to a most perfect place of tombs.
- I had thought the resting-place of the Mings wonderful, but surely there
- is no such place for the honoured dead as that the Manchus have set up at
- the Eastern Tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Immediately we entered the gateway, the cart jolting wickedly along a
- hardly defined track, I found myself in a forest of firs and pines that
- grew denser as we advanced. Here and there was a poplar or other deciduous
- tree, green with the greenness of May time, but the touch of lighter
- colour only emphasised the sombreness of the pines and firs that, with
- their dark foliage, deepened the solemnity of the scene. Through their
- branches peeped the deep blue sky, and every now and again they opened out
- a little, and beyond I could see the bare hills, brown, and orange, and
- purple, but always beautiful, with the shadows chasing each other over
- them, and losing themselves in their folds. Spacious, grand, silent, truly
- an ideal place for the burial of Emperors and their consorts is hidden
- here in the heart of mysterious, matter-of-fact China, and once again I
- was shown, as I was being shown every day, another side of China from the
- toiling thousands I saw in the great city and on the country roads.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dotted about in this great park, with long vistas in between are the
- tombs. They are enclosed in walls, walls of the pinkish red that encloses
- all imperial grounds, generally there is a caretaker, and they look for
- all the world like comfortable houses, picturesque and artistic, nestling
- secluded and away <span class="pagenum">181</span><a
- name="link181_rdquo_________id_" id="link181_rdquo_________id_"></a>from
- the rush and roar of cities, homes where a man may take his well-earned
- rest. The filthy inn at which I stayed, the reeking little town of
- Malanyu, though it is at the very gates, is as far-removed from all
- contact with the tombs as are the slums of Notting Dale from the mansions
- in Park Lane, or the sordid, mean streets of Paddington from the home of
- the King in Buckingham Palace. The birds, the innumerable, much-loved
- birds of China sang in the trees their welcome to the glorious May
- morning, and the only thing out of keeping was my groaning, jolting,
- complaining Peking cart and the shouts of the “cartee man”
- assuring the mules, so I have been told, that the morals of their female
- relatives were certainly not above suspicion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here and there, among the trees, rose up marble pillars tall and stately,
- carved with dragons and winged at the top, such as one sees in
- representations of Babylon and Nineveh, there was a marble bridge,
- magnificent, with the grass growing up between the great paving-stones
- that here, as everywhere in China, seem to mark the small value that has
- been put on human flesh and blood, for by human hands have they been
- placed here, and the uprights are crowned by the symbolic cloud form,
- caught in the marble. This bridge crosses no stream. It is evidently just
- a manifestation of power, the power that crushes, and beyond it is an
- avenue of marble animals. There they stand on the green sward, the green
- sward stolen from the hungry, curving away towards the p'ia lou
- stand, as they have stood for many a long year, horses, elephants,
- fabulous beasts that might have come out of the Book of Revelations,
- guarding the entrance <span class="pagenum">182</span><a name="link182"
- id="link182"></a>to the place of rest. They are not nearly so magnificent
- as the avenue at the Ming Tombs, they are only quaintly Chinese, it is the
- winged pillars, the silence, the sombre pine and fir-trees, and the
- everlasting hills behind that give them dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now Tuan became very important. I began to feel that he had arranged
- the whole for my benefit, and was keeping the best piece back to crown it
- all. We came to a piece of wild country and I was requested to get out of
- the cart. Getting out of the cart where there was no place to step was
- always a business. I was stiff from the jolting, felt disinclined to be
- very acrobatic, and Tuan always felt it his bounden duty to stretch out
- his arms to catch me, or break my fall. He was so small, though he was
- round and fat, that he always complicated matters by making me feel that
- if I did fall I should certainly materially damage him, but it was no good
- protesting, it was the correct thing for him to help his Missie out of her
- cart, and he was prepared to perish in the attempt. However, here was a
- soft cushion of fragrant pine needles, so I scrambled down without any of
- the qualms from which I usually suffered. We had come to a halt for a
- moment by the steep side of a little wooded hill where a narrow footpath
- wound round it. Just such a modest little path between steep rising ground
- one might see in the Surrey Hills. It invites to a secluded glen, but no
- cart could possibly go along it, it is necessary to walk. I turned the
- corner of the hill and lo! there was a paved way, a newly paved way, such
- as I have seldom seen in China. The faint morning breeze stirred among the
- pine needles, making a low, mysterious whispering, and out against the
- back <span class="pagenum">183</span><a name="link183" id="link183"></a>ground
- stood, a splash of brilliant, glowing colour, the many roofs of
- golden-brown tiles that cover the mausoleum of the great woman who once
- ruled over China, the last who made a stand, a futile stand, against
- foreign aggression, and now a foreigner and a woman, unarmed and alone,
- might come safely and stand beside her tomb.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0267.jpg" alt="0267 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0267.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0268.jpg" alt="0268 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0268.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Perhaps that was the best way to view it, at any rate inside I could not
- go, for the key I discovered was at Malanyu, and it would have taken me at
- least half a day to go back and get it. Besides I don't think I
- wanted to go inside. I would not for the world have spoilt the memory that
- remains in my mind by any tawdry detail such as I had seen at the younger
- Empress's funeral. It was just a little spoilt as it was by my boy,
- who came along mysteriously and pointed with a secret finger at the
- custodian of the tomb, who had not the keys.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose Missie makee littee <i>cumshaw</i>. Suppose my payee one
- dollar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And I expect the man did get perhaps sixty cents, because Tuan was bent on
- impressing on these people the fact that his Missie was a very important
- woman indeed.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was worth it, it was well worth it.
- </p>
- <p>
- They say that the old in China is passing away. “Behold upon the
- mountains the feet of him that bringeth good tidings.” Will they
- sweep away these tombs and give this land to the people? I hope not, I
- think not, I pray not. The present in China is inextricably mixed up with
- the past. “Oh Judah keep thy solemn feast, perform thy vows.”
- Sometimes it is surely well that the beautiful should be kept for a
- nation, even at great cost.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI—A WALLED CITY
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">184</span><a name="link184" id="link184"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Numerous walled towns—The dirt of them—T'ung Chou—Romance
- of the evening light—My own little walled city—The gateways—Hospitable
- landlady—Bald heads—My landlady's room—A return
- present—“The ringleaders have been executed”—Summary
- justice—To the rescue of the missionaries at Hsi An Fu—The
- Elder Brother Society-Primitive method of attack and defence—The
- sack of I Chun.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>h that first
- walled city! It was the first of many walled cities, many of them so small
- that it did not take us more than a quarter of an hour to cross from gate
- to gate; but to enter one and all was like opening a door into the past,
- into the life our forbears lived before the country I was born and brought
- up in was ever thought of. When I was a little girl, I cherished a desire
- to marry a German baron, a German baron of the Middle Ages, who lived in a
- castle, and I could not help thinking, as the influenza left me and I
- regained my powers of thought, that here were the towns of my German baron's
- time—dirt and all. In my childhood I had never thought of the dirt,
- or perhaps I had not minded. One thing is certain, in the clean land of my
- childhood I never realised what the dirt that comes from a packed
- population, from seething humanity, can be like. The Chinese live in these
- crowded towns for the sake of security—of security in this twentieth
- century—for even still, China seems to be much in the condition of
- Europe of the Middle Ages, safety cannot be absolutely counted upon inside
- the gates of a town, but at least it is a little safer than the open
- country.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">185</span><a name="link185" id="link185"></a>We
- passed through T'ung Chou when the soft tender evening shadows were
- falling upon battlements and walls built by a nation that, though it is
- most practical, is also one of the most poetical on earth; we passed
- through Chi Chou when the shadows were long in the early morning, and in
- the sunlight was the hope of the new-born day. Through the gate was coming
- a train of Peking carts, of laden donkeys, of great grain carts with seven
- mules, all bound for the capital in the south.
- </p>
- <p>
- I remember these two perhaps because they were the first of many walled
- towns, but Tsung Hua Chou will always remain in my memory as my own little
- walled city, the one that I explored carefully all by myself, and, when I
- think of a walled town, my thoughts always fly back to that little town,
- three-quarters of a mile square, at the foot of the hills that mark the
- limit of the great plain of China proper.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Tuan's suggestion we should stay there. I would have lingered
- at the tombs, but he was emphatic.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Missie want make picture. More better we stop Tsung Hua Chou. Fine
- picture Tsung Hua Chou.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There weren't fine pictures at Tsung Hua Chou. He had struck up a
- great friendship with the “cartee man,” and, perhaps, either
- he or the “cartee man” had a favourite gaming-house, or a
- favourite <span class="pagenum">186</span><a name="link186" id="link186"></a>singing
- girl in the town. At any rate we went, and I, for some hardly explainable
- reason, am glad we did.
- </p>
- <p>
- The road from the tombs was simply appalling. The hills frowned down on
- us, close on either side, high and steep and rugged, but the rough valley
- bottom, up which we went, was the wildest I was to see for a long time. To
- say I was tossed and jolted, is to but mildly express the condition of
- affairs. I sat on a cushion, I packed my bedding round me, and with both
- my hands I held on to the side of the cart, and if for one moment I
- relaxed the rigidity of my aching arms, my head or some other portion of
- my aching anatomy, was brought into contact with the woodwork of the cart,
- just in the place I had reckoned the woodwork could not possibly have
- reached me. There were little streams and bridges across them, which I
- particularly dreaded, for the bridges were always roughly paved, but it
- was nobody's business to see that the road and the pavement met
- neatly, and the jolt the cart gave, both getting on and getting off,
- nearly shook the soul out of my body. I thought of walking, for our
- progress was very slow, but in addition to the going being bad, the mules
- went just a little faster than I did, three and a half miles an hour to my
- three, and I felt there was nothing for it but to resign myself and make
- the best of a bad job. Not for worlds would I have lingered an hour longer
- on that road than I was absolutely obliged. And yet, bad as it was, it was
- the best road I had till I got back to Peking again. There may be worse
- roads than those of China, and there may be worse ways of getting over
- them than in a <span class="pagenum">187</span><a name="link187"
- id="link187"></a>Peking cart, but I do trust I never come across them.
- </p>
- <p>
- We entered the gates of the city as the evening shadows were growing long,
- and as usual, I was carried back to the days of the Crusaders—or
- farther still to Babylon—as we rumbled under the arched gateway, but
- inside it was like every other town I have seen, dirty, sordid, crowded,
- with uneven pavements that there was no getting away from. Within the
- curtain wall, that guarded the gate, there were the usual little stalls
- for the sale of cakes, big, round, flat cakes and little scone-like cakes,
- studded with sesame seed, or a bright pink sweetmeat; there were the
- sellers of pottery ware, basins and pots of all sorts, and the people
- stared at the foreign woman, the wealthy foreign woman who ran to two
- carts. It is an unheard-of thing in China for a Chinese woman to travel
- alone, though sometimes the foreign missionary women do, but they would
- invariably be accompanied by a Chinese woman, and one woman would not be
- likely to have two carts. One thing was certain however, my outfit was all
- that it should have been, bar the lack of a male protector. It bespoke me
- a woman of wealth and position in the eyes of the country folk, and the
- people of the little towns through which I passed. It is possible that a
- mule litter might have enhanced my dignity; but after all, two Peking
- carts was very much like having a first-class compartment all to myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were no foreigners, that I could hear of, in Tsung Hua Chou. The
- missionaries had fled during the Boxer trouble, and never come back, so
- that I was more of a show than usual, though <span class="pagenum">188</span><a
- name="link188" id="link188"></a>indeed, in all the towns I passed through
- I was a show, and the people stared, and chattered, and crowded round the
- carts, and evidently closely questioned the carters.
- </p>
- <p>
- They tell me Chinese carters are often rascals, but I grew to like mine
- very much before we parted company.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were stolid men in blue, with dirty rags wrapped round their heads to
- keep off the dust, and I have no reason to suppose that they affected
- water any more than the rest of the population, whereby I perceive, my
- affections are not so much guided by a desire for cleanliness as I had
- once supposed. They both had the hands of artists, artists with very dirty
- nails, so it may be a feeling of brotherhood had something to do with my
- feelings, for I am hoping you who read will count me an artist in a small
- way. What romance they wove about me, for the benefit of the questioning
- people, I don't know, but the result of their communications was
- that the crowd pressed closer, and stared harder, and they were
- evil-smelling, and had never, never in all their lives been washed. I
- ceased to wonder that I ached all over with the jolting and rumbling of
- the cart, I only wondered if something worse had not befallen me, and how
- it happened that these people, who crowded round, staring as if never in
- their lives had they seen a foreign woman before, did not fall victims to
- some horrible pestilence.
- </p>
- <p>
- For once inside Tsung Hua Chou I saw no beauty in it, for all the romantic
- walls outside. The evil-smelling streets we rumbled through to the inn
- were wickedly narrow, and down the centre hung notices in Chinese
- characters on long strips of <span class="pagenum">189</span><a
- name="link189" id="link189"></a>paper white and red, and pigs, and
- children, and creaking wheelbarrows, and men with loads, blocked the way.
- But we jolted over the step into the courtyard of the inn at last, quite a
- big courtyard, and quite a busy inn. This was an inn where they apparently
- ran a restaurant, for as I climbed stiffly out of my cart a servant,
- carrying a tray of little basins containing the soups and stews the
- Chinese eat, was so absorbed in gazing at me he ran into the “cartee
- man,” and a catastrophe occurred which was the occasion of much bad
- language.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0276.jpg" alt="0276 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0276.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The courtyard was crowded. There were blue-tilted Peking carts, there were
- mules, there were donkeys, there were men of all sorts; but there was only
- one wretched little room for me. It was very dirty too, and I was very
- tired. What was to be done?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Plenty Chinese gentlemen sleep here,” declared Tuan, and I
- could quite believe it. At the door of every lattice-windowed room that
- looked out on to that busy courtyard, stood one, or perhaps two Chinese of
- the better class—long petticoats, shaven head, queue and all—each
- held in his hand a long, silver-mounted pipe from which he took languid
- whiffs, and he looked under his eyelids, which is the polite way, at the
- foreign woman. The foreign woman was very dirty, very tired, and very
- uncomfortable, and the room looked very hopeless. The “cartee men”
- declared that this was the best inn in the town, and anyhow I was
- disinclined to go out and look for other quarters. Then there came
- tottering forward an old woman with tiny feet, one eye and a yellow flower
- stuck in the knot at the back of her bald head. China is the country of
- bald <span class="pagenum">190</span><a name="link190" id="link190"></a>women.
- The men, I presume, would not mind it very much, as for so long they have
- shaven off at least half their hair, but the women certainly must, for if
- they can they dress their dark hair very elaborately. And yet have I seen
- many women, like this innkeeper's wife, with a head so bald that but
- a few strands of hair cover its nakedness, yet those few poor hairs are
- gathered together into an arrangement of black silk shaped something like
- a horn, and beside it is placed a flower, a rose, a pink oleander blossom,
- or a bright yellow flower for which I have no name. That flower gives a
- finish to a sleek and well-dressed head, when the owner has plenty of
- hair, but when she has only the heavy horn of silk, half a dozen hairs,
- and the rest of her bald pate covered with a black varnish, it is a poor
- travesty. When a girl marries, immediately after her husband has lifted
- her veil and she is left to the women of his family they pluck out the
- front hairs on her forehead, so as to give a square effect, and the hair
- is drawn very tightly back and gathered generally into this horn. I
- suspect this heavy horn is responsible for the baldness, though an
- American of my acquaintance declares it is the plucking out of the hairs
- on the forehead. “The rest of the hair,” says he, “kinder
- gets discouraged.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This innkeeper's wife was very kindly. She said I should not sleep
- in that room, I should have her room, and she would go to her mother's.
- The mother was a surprise to me. I hope when I am as old as she looked I
- shall have a mother to go to.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now I do not as a rule embrace my landlady. In England I couldn't
- even imagine myself feeling particularly kindly towards a dirty little
- woman clad <span class="pagenum">191</span><a name="link191" id="link191"></a>in
- a shirt and trousers of exceedingly dirty blue cotton, but the intention
- was so evidently kind and hospitable, I knew not a word of her tongue, and
- was by no means sure the valued Tuan would translate my words of thanks
- properly, so I could but take both her very dirty little hands in mine,
- clasp them warmly, and try and look my thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then I inspected her room. It was approached through an entrance where
- lime was stored, it was rather dark, and it was of good size, though on
- one side was stacked a supply of stores for the restaurant. Chinese
- macaroni, that looks as if it were first cousin to sheet gelatine, stale
- eggs and other nondescript eatables. There was a k'ang, of course,
- quite a family k'ang, and there was a large mirror on one wall. I
- had forgotten my camp mirror, so I looked in it eagerly, and the
- reflection left me chastened. I hadn't expected the journey to
- improve my looks, but I did hope it had not swelled up one cheek, and
- bunged up the other eye. I felt I did not want to stay in the room with
- that mirror, but there were other things worse than the mirror in it. The
- beautiful lattice-work window had apparently never been opened since the
- first cover of white tissue paper had been put on it, and the smell of
- human occupancy there defies my poor powers of description. The dirty
- little place I had at first disdained, had at least a door opening on to
- the comparatively fresh air of the courtyard. I told Tuan to explain that
- while I was delighted to see her room, and admired everything very much in
- it, nothing would induce me to deprive her of its comforts. She certainly
- was friendly. As I looked in the chastening mirror, I, like a true woman,
- I suppose, put up <span class="pagenum">192</span><a name="link192"
- id="link192"></a>a few stray locks that the jolting cart had shaken out of
- place, and she promptly wanted to do my hair herself with a selection from
- an array of elderly combs with which she probably dressed her own scanty
- locks. That was too much. I had to decline, I trust she thought it was my
- modesty, and then she offered me some of the macaroni. I tried to say I
- had nothing to give in return and then Tuan remarked, “As friend, as
- friend.” So as a friend, from that little maimed one-eyed old woman
- up in the hills of China, I took a handful of macaroni and had nothing to
- give in return. I hope she feels as friendly towards me as I shall always
- do towards her.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is not always that the difficulty of giving a return present is on the
- foreign side, sometimes it is the Chinese who feel it. I remember a
- traveller for a business house telling me how on one occasion he had gone
- to a village and entertained the elders at dinner, giving them brandy
- which they loved, and liqueurs which seemed to the unsophisticated village
- fathers ambrosia fit for the gods. The next day, when he was about to take
- his departure, a small procession approached him and one of them bore on a
- tray a little Chinese handleless cup covered with another. They said he
- could speak Chinese, so there was no need for an interpreter, that he had
- given them a very good time, they were very grateful, and they wished to
- make him a present by which he might remember them sometimes. But their
- village was poor and small. It contained nothing worth his acceptance, and
- after much consultation, they had come to the conclusion that the best way
- would be to present him with the money, <span class="pagenum">193</span><a
- name="link193" id="link193"></a>so that he might buy something for himself
- when he came to Peking or some other large town. Thereupon the cup was
- presented, the cover lifted off, and in the bottom lay a ten cent piece,
- worth about twopence halfpenny. Probably it seemed quite an adequate
- present to men who count their incomes by cash of which a thousand go to
- the dollar.
- </p>
- <p>
- I don't think my landlady minded much my declining the hospitality
- of her room. Possibly she only wished me to see its glories, and presently
- she brought to the little room I had at first so despised, and now looked
- upon, if not as a haven of rest, at least as one of fresh air, a couple of
- nice hard wood stools, and a beautifully carved k'ang table thick
- with grease.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say must make Missie comfortable,” said Tuan with the usual
- suggestion he had done it himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- And those stools were covered, much to my surprise, with red woollen
- tapestry, and the pattern was one that I had seen used many a time in a
- little town on the Staffordshire moors, where their business is to dye and
- print. And here was one of the results of their labours, a “Wardle
- rag,” as we used to call them, up among the hills of Northern China.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was too tired to do anything but go to bed that night as soon as I had
- had my dinner. I had it, as usual, on the k'ang table, the dirt
- shrouded by my humble tablecloth, and curious eyes watched me, even as I
- watched the trays of full basins and the trays of empty ones that were for
- ever coming and going across the courtyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next morning my friendly landlady brought to see me two other small-footed
- women, both smoking <span class="pagenum">194</span><a
- name="link194_rdquo_________id_" id="link194_rdquo_________id_"></a>long
- pipes, women who said, through Tuan, their ages were forty and sixty
- respectively, and who examined, with interest, me and my belongings. They
- felt my boots so much, good, substantial, leather-built by Peter Yapp,
- that at last I judged they would like to see what was underneath, and took
- off a boot and stocking for their inspection, and the way they felt my
- foot up and down as if it were something they had never before met in
- their lives, amused me very much, At least at first it amused me, and then
- it saddened me. Though they held out their own poor maimed feet, they did
- not return the compliment much as I desired it. They took me across the
- courtyard into another room where, behind lattice-work windows, that had
- not been opened for ages, were two more women sitting on the k'ang,
- and two little shaven-headed children. These were younger women, tall and
- stout, with feet so tiny, they called my attention to them, that it did
- not seem to me possible any woman could support herself upon them. My boy
- was not allowed in, so of course I could not talk to them, could only
- smile and drink tea.
- </p>
- <p>
- These two younger women, who were evidently of superior rank, had their
- hair most elaborately dressed and wore most gorgeous raiment. One was clad
- in purple satin with a little black about it, and the other, a mere girl
- of eighteen, but married, for her hair was no longer in a queue, and her
- forehead was squared, wore a coat of pale blue silk brocade and
- grass-green trousers of the same material. Their faces were impassive, as
- are the faces of Chinese women of the better class, but they smiled,
- evidently liked their tortured feet to be noticed, gave <span
- class="pagenum">195</span><a name="link195" id="link195"></a>me tea from
- the teapot on the k'ang table, and then presently all four, with the
- gaily dressed babies, tottered out into the courtyard, the older women
- leading the toddling children, and helping the younger, and, with the aid
- of settles, they climbed into two Peking carts, my elderly friends taking
- their places on the outside, whereby I judged they were servants or
- household slaves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chinese wives,” said Tuan, but whether they were the wives of
- one man, or of two, I had no means of knowing. The costumes of the two
- younger were certainly not those in which I would choose to travel on a
- Chinese road in a Peking cart, but the Chinese have a proverb: “Abroad
- wear the new, at home it does not matter,” so they probably thought
- my humble mole-coloured cotton <i>crêpe</i>, equally out of place.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when they were gone I set out to explore the town.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was only a small place, built square, with two main roads running
- north, and south, and east, and west, and cutting each other at right
- angles in the heart of it. They were abominably paved. No vehicle but a
- springless Peking cart would have dreamt of making its way across that
- pavement, but then probably no vehicle save a cart or a wheelbarrow in all
- the years of the city's life had ever been thought of there. The
- remaining streets were but evil-smelling alley-ways, narrow in comparison
- with the main ways which, anywhere else, I should have deemed hopelessly
- inadequate, thronged as they were with people and encroached upon by the
- shops that stood close on either side. They had no glass fronts, of
- course, these shops, but otherwise, <span class="pagenum">196</span><a
- name="link196" id="link196"></a>they were not so very unlike the shops one
- sees in the poorer quarters of the great towns in England. But there was
- evidently no Town Council to regulate the use to which the streets should
- be put. The dyer hung his long strips of blue cloth half across the
- roadway, careless of the convenience of the passer-by, the man who sold
- cloth had out little tables or benches piled with white and blue calico—I
- have seen tradesmen do the same in King's Road, Chelsea—the
- butcher had his very disagreeable wares fully displayed half across the
- roadway, the gentleman who was making mud bricks for the repair of his
- house, made them where it was handiest in the street close to the house,
- and the man who sold cooked provisions, with his little portable kitchen
- and table, set himself down right in the fairway and tempted all-comers
- with little basins of soup, fat, pale-looking steamed scones, hard-boiled
- eggs or meat turnovers.
- </p>
- <p>
- This place, hidden behind romantic grey walls, at which I had wondered in
- the evening light, was in the morning just like any other city, Peking
- with the glory and beauty gone out of it, and the people who thronged
- those streets were just the poorer classes of Peking, only it seemed there
- were more naked children and more small-footed women with elaborately
- dressed hair tottering along, balancing themselves with their arms. I met
- a crowd accompanying the gay scarlet poles, flags, musical instruments and
- the red sedan chair of a wedding. The poor little bride, shut up in the
- scarlet chair, was going to her husband's house and leaving her
- father's for ever. It is to be hoped she would find favour in the
- sight of her husband and <span class="pagenum">197</span><a name="link197"
- id="link197"></a>her husband's women-folk. It was more important
- probably, that she should please the latter.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bridal party made a great noise, but then all in that town was noise,
- dirt, crowding, and evil smells. The only peaceful place in it was the
- courtyard of the little temple close against the city wall. Outside it
- stand two hideous figures with hands flung out in threatening attitude,
- and inside were more figures, all painted in the gayest colours. What they
- meant I have not lore enough to know, but they were very hideous, the very
- lowest form of art.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0286.jpg" alt="0286 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0286.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- There was the recording angel with a black face and the open book—after
- all, the recording angel must often wear a black face—and there was
- the eternal symbol that has appealed through all ages to all people, and
- must appeal one would think above all, to this nation that longs so
- ardently for offspring, the mother with the child upon her knee. But they
- were all ugly to my Western eyes, and the only thing that charmed me was
- the silence, the cleanliness, and the quiet of the courtyard, the only
- place in all the busy little city that was at peace.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I engaged Tuan I had thought he was to do all the waiting upon me I
- needed, but it seems I made a mistake. The farther I got from Peking the
- greater his importance became, and here he could not so much as carry for
- me the lightest wrap. His business appeared to be to engage other people
- to do the work. There was one dilapidated wretch to carry the camera,
- another the box with the plates, and yet a third bore the black cloth I
- would put over my head to focus my pictures properly. It was not a bit of
- good protesting, two minutes after I got rid <span class="pagenum">198</span><a
- name="link198" id="link198"></a>of one lot of followers, another took
- their place, and as everyone had to be paid, apparently, I often thought,
- for the pleasure of looking at me, I resigned myself to my fate.
- </p>
- <p>
- Accompanied by all the idlers and children in the town I climbed the ramp
- on to the walls, which are in perfect order, three miles round and on the
- top from fifteen feet to twenty broad. That ramp must have been always
- steep, the last thing a Chinese ever thinks about is comfort, steep almost
- as the walls themselves, and everywhere the stones are gone, making it a
- work of difficulty to climb to the top. Tuan helped me in approved Chinese
- fashion, putting his hand underneath my elbow, and once I was there the
- town was metamorphosed, it was again the romantic city I had seen from the
- plain in the evening light. Now the early morning sunlight, with all the
- promise of the day in it, fell upon graceful curved Chinese roofs and
- innumerable trees, dainty with the delicate vivid verdure that comes in
- the spring as a reward to a country where the winter has been long,
- bitter, and iron-bound.
- </p>
- <p>
- The walls of most Chinese cities are built square, with right angles at
- the four corners, but in at least two that I have been in, T'ung
- Chou and Pao Ting Fu, one corner is built out in a bow. I rather admired
- the effect at first, till I found it was a mark of deepest disgrace. There
- had been a parricide committed in the town. When such a terrible thing
- occurs a corner of the city wall must be pulled down and built out; a
- second one, another corner is pulled down and built out, and a third
- likewise; but the fourth time such a crime is committed in the <span
- class="pagenum">199</span><a name="link199" id="link199"></a>luckless town
- the walls must be razed to the ground. But such a disgrace has never
- occurred in any town in the annals of Chinese history, those age-long
- annals that go back farther than any other nation's, for if a town
- should be so unlucky as to have harboured four such criminals within its
- walls they generally managed, by the payment of a sum of money, to get a
- city that had some of its corners still intact to take the disgrace upon
- itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- I strongly suspect too, that it is only when the offender is in high
- places that his crime is thus commemorated, for I have only heard of these
- two cases, and yet as short a while ago as 1912 there was a terrible
- murder in Pao Ting Fu that shocked the town. It appeared there was an idle
- son, who instead of working for his family, spent all his time attending
- to his cage bird, taking it out for walks, encouraging it to sing, hunting
- the graves outside the town for insects for it. His poor old mother sighed
- over his uselessness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it were not for the bird!” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young blood in China, it seems, goes to the dogs over a cage bird, a
- lark or a thrush, as the young man in modern Europe comes to grief over
- horse-racing, so we see that human nature is the same all the world over.
- This Chinese mother brooded over her boy's wasted life, and one day
- when he was out she opened the cage door and the bird flew away.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he came in he asked for the bird and she said nothing, only with her
- large, sharp knife went on shredding up the vegetables that she was
- putting into a large cauldron of boiling water for supper. He asked again
- for the bird. Still she took no <span class="pagenum">200</span><a
- name="link200" id="link200"></a>notice, and he seized her knife and slit
- her up into small pieces and put her into the cauldron. He was taken, and
- tried, and was put to death by slicing into a thousand pieces—yes,
- even in modern China—but they did not think it necessary to pull
- down another corner of the city wall. Possibly they felt the disgrace of a
- bygone age was enough for Pao Ting Fu.
- </p>
- <p>
- The corners of the walls of Tsung Hua Chou were as they were first built,
- rectangular, and the watch-towers at those corners and over the four gates
- from the distance looked imposing, all that they should be, but close at
- hand I saw that they were tumbling into ruins, the doors were fallen off
- the hinges, the window-frames were broken, all was desolate and empty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Once the soldier she watch here,” said my boy, whose pronouns
- were always somewhat mixed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No soldier here now. She go work in gold mine ninety li away. Gold
- mine belong Plesident.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Tuan had got as far as the fact that a President had taken the place of
- the Manchu Emperor, but I wondered very much whether the inhabitants of
- Tsung Hua Chou had. I meditated on my way back to “Missie's
- inn” on the limitations of the practical Chinese mind that because
- it is practical, I suppose, cannot conceive of the liberty, equality, and
- fraternity that a Republic denotes. The President, to the humble Chinese
- in the street, has just taken the place of the Emperor, he is the one who
- rules over them, his soldiers are withdrawn. That there was a war in
- Mongolia, a rebellion impending in the south, were items of news that had
- not reached <span class="pagenum">201</span><a name="link201" id="link201"></a>the
- man in the street in Tsung Hua Chou who, feeling that the soldiers must be
- put to some use, concluded they were working in the President's gold
- mine ninety li away.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0292.jpg" alt="0292 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0292.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- A foreigner went to a Chinese tailor the other day to make him a suit of
- clothes, and he found occasion to complain that the gentleman's
- prices had gone up considerably since he employed him last. The man of the
- scissors was equal to the occasion, and explained that, since “revelations,”
- so many Chinese had taken to wearing foreign dress, he was obliged to
- charge more.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You belong revolution?” asked the inquiring foreigner,
- anxious to find out how far liberty, fraternity, and equality had
- penetrated.
- </p>
- <p>
- The tailor looked at him more in sorrow than in scorn. How could he be so
- foolish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I no belong revelation,” he explained carefully, as one who
- was instructing where no instruction should have been necessary. The thing
- was self-evident, “I belong tailor man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When the revolution first dawned upon the country people all they realised—when
- they realised anything at all—was that there was no longer an
- Emperor, therefore they supposed they would no longer have to pay taxes.
- When they found that Emperor or no Emperor taxes were still required of
- them, they just put the President in the Emperor's place. I strongly
- suspect that if the greater part of the inhabitants of my walled city were
- to be questioned as to the revolution they would reply like the tailor:
- “No belong revolution, belong Tsung Hua Chou!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But in truth the civilisation of China is still so <span class="pagenum">202</span><a
- name="link202" id="link202"></a>much like that of Babylon and Nineveh,
- that it is best for the poor man, if he can, to efface himself. He does
- not pray for rights as yet. He only prays that he may slip through life
- unnoticed, that he may not come in contact with the powers that rule him,
- for no matter who is right or who is wrong bitter experience has taught
- him that he will suffer.
- </p>
- <p>
- We do not realise that sufficiently in the West when we talk of China. We
- judge her by our own standards. The time may come when this may be a right
- way of judging, but it has not come yet. Rather should we judge as they
- judged in the days of the old Testament, in the days of Nineveh and
- Babylon, when the proletariat, the slaves, were as naught in the sight of
- God or man.
- </p>
- <p>
- A man told me how in the summer of 1912, travelling in the interior, he
- came to a small city in one of the central provinces, a city not unlike
- Tsung Hua Chou, like indeed a thousand other little cities in this realm
- of Cathay. The soldiers quartered there had not been paid, and they had
- turned to and looted the town. The unwise city men, instead of submitting
- lest a worse thing happen unto them, had telegraphed their woes to Peking,
- and orders had come down to the General in command that the ringleaders
- must be executed. But no wise General is going to be hard on his own
- soldiers. This General certainly was not. Still justice had to be
- satisfied, and he was not at a loss. He sent a body of soldiers to the
- looted shops, where certain luckless men were sadly turning over the
- damaged property. These they promptly arrested. The English onlooker, who
- spoke Chinese, declared to me solemnly these arrested men were the
- merchants themselves, <span class="pagenum">203</span><a
- name="link203_rdquo_________id_" id="link203_rdquo_________id_"></a>their
- helpers and coolies. That was nothing to the savage soldiery. There had to
- be victims. Had not the order come from the central government. Some of
- the men, there were twenty in all, they beat and left dead on the spot,
- the rest they dragged to the yamen. The traveller, furious and helpless,
- followed. Of course the guilt of the merchants was a foregone conclusion.
- They never execute anyone who does not confess his guilt and the justice
- of his sentence in China, but they have means of making sure of the
- confession. Presently out the unfortunate men came again, stripped to the
- waist, with their arms tied up high behind them, prepared, in fact, for
- death. The soldiers dragged them along, they protesting their innocence to
- unheeding ears. Their women and children came out, running alongside the
- mournful procession, clinging to the soldiers and to their husbands and
- fathers, and praying for mercy. They tripped and fell, and the soldiers,
- the soldiers in khaki, pushed them aside, and stepped over them, and
- dragged on their victims. The traveller followed. No one took any notice
- of him, and what could he do, though his heart was sore, one against so
- many. Through the narrow, filthy streets they went, past their own looted
- shops. They looked about them wildly, but there was none to help, and
- before them marched the executioner, with a great sharp sword in his
- hands, and always the soldiers in modern uniform emphasised the barbarity
- of the crime. Presently they had distanced the wailing women and were
- outside the walls, but the foreign onlooker was still with them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And one was a boy not twenty,” he said with <span
- class="pagenum">204</span><a name="link204" id="link204"></a>a sharp,
- indrawn breath, wiping his face as he told the ghastly tale.
- </p>
- <p>
- They knelt in a row, just where the walls of their own town frowned down
- on them, and one by one the executioner cut off their heads. The death of
- the first in the line was swift enough, but, as he approached the end of
- the row the man's arm grew tired and he did not get the last two
- heads right off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I saw one jump four times,” said the shocked onlooker,
- “before he died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then they telegraphed to Peking that order had been restored, and the
- ringleaders executed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Since I heard that man's story, I always read that order has been
- restored in any Chinese city with a shudder, and wonder how many innocents
- have suffered. For I have heard stories like that, not of one city, or
- told by one man, but of various cities, and told by different men. The
- Chinese, it seems to me, copy very faithfully the European newspapers, the
- great papers of the Western world. Horrors like that are never read in a
- Western paper, therefore you never see such things reported in the Chinese
- papers. After all they are only the proletariat, the slaves of Babylon or
- Nineveh. Who counted a score or so of them slain? Order has been restored,
- comes the message for the benefit of the modern world, and in the little
- city the bloody heads adorn the walls and the bodies lie outside to be
- torn to pieces by the <i>wonks</i> and the vultures.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when I heard tales like this, I wondered whether it was safe for a
- woman to be travelling alone. It is safe, of course, for the Chinaman,
- strange as it may sound after telling such tales, is at bottom more
- law-abiding than the average <span class="pagenum">205</span><a
- name="link205" id="link205"></a>European. True, he is more likely to
- insult or rob a woman than a man, because he has for so long regarded a
- woman as of so much less consequence than a man, that when he considers
- the matter he cannot really believe that any nation could hold a different
- opinion. Still, in all probability, she will be safe, just as in all
- probability she might march by herself from Land's End to John o'
- Groats without being molested. She may be robbed and murdered, and so she
- may be robbed and murdered in China. The Chinese are robbed and murdered
- often enough themselves poor things. Also they do not suffer in silence.
- They revenge themselves when they can.
- </p>
- <p>
- A man travelling for the British and American Tobacco Company, he was a
- young man, not yet eight-and-twenty, told me how, once, outside a small
- walled town, he came upon a howling mob, and parting them after the lordly
- fashion of the Englishman, who knows he can use his hands, he saw they
- were crowding round a pit half filled with quicklime. In it, buried to his
- middle, was a ghastly creature with his eyes scooped out, and the hollows
- filled up with quicklime.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I had had a pistol handy,” said the teller of the tale,
- “I would have shot him. I couldn't have helped myself. It
- seemed the only thing to put him out of his misery, but, after all, I
- think he was past all feeling, and I wonder what the people would have
- done to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- They told him, when he investigated, that this man was a robber, that he
- had robbed and murdered without mercy, and so, when he fell into their
- hands, they had taken vengeance. <span class="pagenum">206</span><a
- name="link206" id="link206"></a>Was that Babylon, or Nineveh, I wondered?
- Since such things happen in China one feels that the age of Babylon and
- Nineveh has not yet gone by. Talk with but a few men who have wandered
- into the interior, and you realise the strong necessity for these walled
- towns.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the rumour of the slaughter of the Manchus, and the killing in the
- confusion of eight Europeans at Hsi An Fu in Shensi in October 1911,
- reached Peking, nine young men banded themselves together into the Shensi
- Relief Force, and set out from the capital to relieve the missionaries cut
- off there. One of these young men it was my good fortune to meet, and the
- story of their doings, told at first hand, unrolled for me the leaves of
- history. They set out to help the men and women of their own colour, but
- as they passed west from Tai Yuan Fu, again and again, the people of the
- country appealed to them to stop and help them. The Elder Brother Society,
- the Ko Lao Hui were on the warpath, and, with whatever good intentions
- this society had originated, it was, on this way from Tai Yuan Fu to Hsi
- An Fu, nothing less than a band of robbers, pillaging and murdering, and
- even the walled cities were hardly a safeguard. Village after village,
- with no such defences, was wrecked, burned, and destroyed, and their
- inhabitants were either slain or refugees in the mountains. And the
- suffering that means, with the bitter winter of China ahead of them, is
- ghastly to think of. They died, of course, and those who were slain by the
- robbers probably suffered the least.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What could we do? What could we possibly do?” asked my
- informant pitifully. <span class="pagenum">207</span><a name="link207"
- id="link207"></a>At last they came to Sui Te Chou, a walled city, and Sui
- Te Chou was for the moment triumphant. It had driven off the robbers. The
- Elder Brother Society had held the little city closely invested. They had
- built stone towers, and, from the top of them, had fired into the city,
- and at the defenders on the walls, and, under cover of this fire from the
- towers, they had attempted to scale the battlements. But the people on the
- walls had pushed them down with long spears, and had poured boiling water
- upon them, and, finally, the robbers had given way, and some braves,
- issuing from the south gate had fallen upon them, killing many and
- capturing thirty of them. It was a short shrift for them, and a festoon of
- heads adorned the gateway under which the foreigners passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, though victorious, the braves of Sui Te Chou knew right well that the
- lull was only momentary. They were reversing the Scriptural order of
- things, and beating their ploughshares into swords. The brigands would be
- back as soon as they had reinforcements, the battle would be to the strong
- and it would indeed be “Woe to the Vanquished!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We could not help them. We could not,” reiterated the teller
- of the tale sadly; “we just had to go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was old China, he said, let us hope the last of old China. In that town
- were English missionaries, a man and his wife, another man and two little
- children, members of the English Baptist Church, dressed in Chinese dress,
- the men with queues. These they rescued, and took along with them, and
- glad were they to have two more able-bodied men in the party, even though
- they were counterbalanced <span class="pagenum">208</span><a
- name="link208_rdquo_________id_" id="link208_rdquo_________id_"></a>by the
- presence of the woman and two children, for everywhere along the track
- were evidences of the barbaric times in which they lived. Human head? in
- wicker cages were common objects of the wayside, and the wolves came down
- from the mountains and gnawed at the dead bodies, or attacked the sick and
- wounded. Old China was a ghastly place that autumn of 1911, during the
- “bloodless” revolution. Chung Pu they reached immediately
- after it had been attacked by six hundred men.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had to kick a dog away that was gnawing at a dead body as we led
- the lady into a house for the night,” said the narrator. “I
- could only implore her not to look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But at I Chün things were worse still. They reached it just as it had
- fallen into the hands of the Elder Brother Society, and they began to
- think they had taken those missionaries out of the frying-pan into the
- fire. I Chün is a walled city up in the mountains of Shensi, and the only
- approach was by a pathway so narrow that it only allowed of one mule
- litter at a time. On one side was a steep precipice, on the other the city
- wall, and along that wall came racing men armed with matchlocks, spears,
- and swords, yelling defiance and prepared, apparently, to attack. The
- worst of it was there was no turning that litter round. They halted, and
- the gate ahead of them opened, and right in the centre of the gateway was
- an ancient cannon with a man standing beside it with a lighted rope in his
- hand. Turn the litter and get away in a hurry they could not. Leave it
- they could not. There was seemingly no escape for them. It only wanted one
- of those excited men to shout “Ta, Ta,” and the match <span
- class="pagenum">209</span><a name="link209" id="link209"></a>could have
- been applied, and the ancient gun would have swept the pathway. Then the
- leader of the band of foreigners stepped forward. He flung away his rifle,
- he flung away his revolver, he flung away his knife, and he stood there
- before them defenceless, with his arms raised—modem civilisation
- bowing for the moment before the force of Babylon. It was a moment of
- supreme anxiety. Suppose the people misunderstood his actions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We scarcely dared breathe,” said the storyteller. Every heart
- stood still. And then they understood. The man with the lighted rope
- dropped it, and they beckoned to the strangers to come inside the gates.
- </p>
- <p>
- It required a good deal of courage to go inside those gates, to put
- themselves in the power of the Elder Brother Society, and they spent an
- anxious night. The town had been sacked, the streets ran blood, the men
- were slain, their bodies were in the streets for the crows and the <i>wonks</i>
- to feed on, and the women—well women never count for much in China
- in times of peace, and in war they are the spoil of the victor—the
- Goddess of Mercy was forgotten those days in I Chün. All night long the
- anxious little party kept watch and ward, and when day dawned were
- thankful to be allowed to proceed on their way unmolested, eventually
- reaching Hsi An Fu and rescuing all the missionaries who wished to be
- rescued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was exciting,” said my friend, half apologising for
- getting excited over it. “It was the last of old China. Such things
- will never happen again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Exciting! it thrilled me to hear him talk, to know such things had
- happened barely a year before, to <span class="pagenum">210</span><a
- name="link210" id="link210"></a>know they had happened in this country.
- Would they never happen again? I was not so sure of that as I went through
- walled town after walled town, as I looked up at the walls of Tsung Hua
- Chou. This was the correct setting. To talk in friendly, commonplace
- fashion to people who lived in such towns seemed to annihilate time, to
- bring the past nearer to me, to make me understand, as I had never
- understood before, that the people who had lived, and suffered, and
- triumphed, or lived, and suffered, and fallen, were almost exactly the
- same flesh and blood as I was myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Back at the inn my friend the landlady brought me her little grandson to
- admire. He was a jolly little unwashed chap with a shaven head, clad in an
- unwashed shift, and I think I admired him to her heart's content. It
- was evidently worth having been born and lived all the strenuous weary
- days of her hard life to have had part in the bringing into the world of
- that grandson. His little sister in the blue-cornered handkerchief,
- looking on, did not count for much, and yet she had her own feelings, for
- when I clambered into my cart and was just rumbling over the step I was
- startled by a terrified childish outcry. Looking back, I saw that a little
- serving-maid, a slave probably, was running after my cart with the small
- son and heir in her arms, making believe to give away the household
- treasure to the foreign woman, with grandmother and subordinates looking
- smilingly on. Only the little sister, who was not in the secret, was
- shrieking lustily in protest.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had been thinking of the cities in the plain of Mesopotamia! And this
- carried me back to the <span class="pagenum">211</span><a
- name="link211_rdquo_________id_" id="link211_rdquo_________id_"></a>days
- of my own childhood and the hills round Ballarat! Many and many a time in
- my young days have I seen the household baby offered to the “vegetable
- John,” and the small brothers and sisters shrieking a terrified
- protest. “They would be good, and love baby, and never be cross with
- him any more.” Here was I taking the place of the smiling, bland,
- John Chinaman of my childhood. After all human nature is much the same all
- the world over, on the sunny hills of Ballarat, or in a walled city at the
- foot of the mountains in Northern China. If we could but bridge the gulf
- that lies between, I expect we should have found it just exactly the same
- on the banks of the Euphrates and beneath the walls of Babylon.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII—THE NINE DRAGON TEMPLE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">212</span><a name="link212" id="link212"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The crossing of the Lanho—A dust storm—Dangers of a new inn—Locked
- in—Holy mountain—Ruined city—My interpreter—A
- steep hill—The barren woman—Unappetising food—The abbot—The
- beggar—Burning incense—The beauty of the way.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e were fairly in
- the mountains when we left Tsung Hua Chou. As we crawled along slowly, and
- I trust with dignity, though dignity is not my strong point, I looked up
- to the hills that towered above us, almost perpendicular they seemed in
- places, as if the slope had been shorn off roughly with a blunt knife, and
- I saw that one of these crags, that must have been about a thousand feet
- above the valley bottom, anyhow it looked it in the afternoon sunlight,
- was crowned by buildings; and not feeling energetic, nobody does feel
- energetic who rides for long in a Peking cart, I thanked my stars that I
- had not to go up there. I thought if it were the most beautiful temple in
- the world I would not go up that mountain to visit it. Which only shows
- that I did not reckon on my Chinese servant. There may be people who can
- cope single-handed with the will of a Chinaman. I can't. I know now
- that if my servant expresses a desire for a thing, he will only ask, of
- course, for what is perfectly correct and good <span class="pagenum">213</span><a
- name="link213" id="link213"></a>for his Missie, he will have it in the
- end, so it is no good struggling; it is better to give in gracefully at
- first.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> </a>
- </p>
-
-<div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0306.jpg" alt="0306 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0306.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
-
- <p>
- As we neared a river, the Lanho, or I suppose I should say the Lan, for
- “ho” means a river, the clouds began to gather for the first
- time since I had set out on my journey, and it seemed as if it were going
- to rain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must make haste,” said Tuan looking up at the grey sky with
- the clouds scurrying across it, and making haste in a Peking cart is a
- painful process.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time we arrived at the river-banks it was blowing furiously, and a
- good part of the country, as always seems to be the case in China when the
- wind blows, was in the air. The river, wide and muddy and rather shallow,
- was flowing swiftly along, and the crossing-place was just where the
- valley was widest, and there was a large extent of sand on either bank, so
- there was plenty of material for the wind to play with. It used it as if
- it had never had a chance before and was bound to make the most of it.
- There were many other people on that sandy beach, there were other Peking
- carts, there were laden country carts with their heavily studded wheels
- cut out of one piece of wood, looking like the wheels Mr Reed puts on his
- prehistoric carts in <i>Punch</i>, there were laden donkeys and mules,
- there were all the blue-clad people in charge of the traffic, and there
- were tiny restaurants, rough-looking shacks where the refreshment of these
- people was provided for. They weren't refreshing when I arrived, the
- wind was blowing things away piecemeal, and every man seemed to be
- grabbing something portable, or putting it down with a stone upon it to
- anchor it. <span class="pagenum">214</span><a name="link214" id="link214"></a>"Must
- make haste,” said Tuan again, as he helped me out of the cart, and
- the wind got under my coat, tore at my veil, and succeeded in pulling down
- some of my hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had got beyond the region of bridges, I suppose in the summer the
- floods come down and sweep them away, and everybody was crossing on a
- wupan, a long, shallow, flat-bottomed boat that had been decked in the
- middle to allow of carts being taken across. The mules were taken out, and
- the carts with the help of every available man about, except the fat
- restaurant-keeper, were got on the boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must make haste,” repeated Tuan, distributing with a liberal
- hand my hard-earned cents. I used to think a cent or two in China didn't
- matter, but I know by bitter experience they mount up.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then just as we were all ready, my leading mule, a fawn-coloured
- animal of some character, expressed his disapproval of the mode of transit
- by a violent kick, and broke away. The dust was blowing in heavy clouds,
- but every now and then I could see through the veil a dozen people racing
- after him, while he kicked up his heels in derision, and in a fashion of
- which I should not have thought any beast that had brought a Peking cart
- so far over such roads was capable. Then a brilliant idea occurred to the
- younger “cartee man.” He decided to mount the white mule that
- led the other cart. This was a meek-looking beast who I presume always did
- exactly as he was told; but a worm will turn, and to be ridden after all
- the long journey was more than even he would stand. With a buck and a kick
- he got rid of the “cartee man,” and then <span class="pagenum">215</span><a
- name="link215" id="link215"></a>there were two mules careering about in
- the wild dust storm. It looked highly probable that they would take
- advantage of their liberty to go back to Peking, and I crossed that river
- wondering very much how I was to get any farther on my journey, and
- whether lost mules were a part of the just expenditure expected of a
- foreign woman. After about two hours, however, they were brought in, the
- fawn-coloured mule as perky as ever, but the white one so depressed by his
- only taste of freedom that he never recovered as long as I had the
- pleasure of his acquaintance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before we were on our way again the dust storm had subsided, and I was
- shaking the mountains, or the Gobi Desert, or whatever it was, out of the
- folds of my clothes and out of my hair and eyes, and Tuan was once more
- urgent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must make haste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was no good, we had lost too much time, we could not possibly reach
- the little town we had planned to reach, and before the sun set we turned
- into the yard of a little hostelry in a small mountain hamlet underneath
- the holy mountain that was crowned with the temple I had been looking at
- all the afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then to my joy I found that this place was clean, actually clean!! Two
- notes of exclamation do not do proper justice to it. The yard bore little
- traces of occupation, the room I was shown into had a new blue calico
- curtain at the door, it was freshly whitewashed, a clean mat was on the k'ang,
- the wood that edged it was new, and there was clean tissue paper over the
- lattice-work of the windows. The floor, of course, was only hard, beaten
- earth, but that did not matter. I would sit on the k'ang, and <span
- class="pagenum">216</span><a name="link216" id="link216"></a>besides this
- place smelt of nothing but whitewash. I rejoiced exceedingly as I had the
- paper torn off the top of the window to let in the fresh air, but Tuan
- looked at it from another point of view.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must take care,” said he, “this new inn. 'Cartee
- man' no know she. Must take care,” and he looked so grave that
- I wondered what on earth was the penalty I ran the risk of paying for
- cleanliness.
- </p>
- <p>
- They evidently were afraid, for all the luggage, which as a rule stayed
- strapped on the carts in the inn yard, was taken off and brought in. I was
- worth robbing, for I had about seven-and-twenty pounds in dollars in my
- black box, and that, judging by what I saw, would have bought up all the
- villages between Jehol and Peking. However, it was no good worrying about
- it, however agitated Tuan might be. Besides, anyhow he was something of a
- coward, all Chinese servants are, it seems to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- His fear didn't seem to last very long, for presently he came
- bustling in, all excitement.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was brushing my hair to try and get some of the dust out of it, and
- reflecting there was possibly some reason in so many Chinese women being
- bald. It must be much easier to keep a hairless head free from dust.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Missie, Missie, innkeeper man, she say my Missie come in good time.
- Nine Dragon Temple,” he pointed upwards, and I knew with a sinking
- heart he meant the one I had watched all day and decided that to it I
- would not go, “open one time for ten day, never in year open any
- more,” and he looked at me to see his words sink in. They sank in
- right enough. I knew I was going there, but still I protested.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot walk up that mountain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No walk, Missie no walk, can get chair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Still I struggled. “It will cost too much money.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three dollars, Missie, can do. Not spend much monies,” and he
- looked at me as much as to say I would never let three dollars, about six
- shillings, stand between me and a wonder that was only open for ten days
- in the year, especially when I had arrived on the auspicious day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what will you do, Tuan, <span class="pagenum">217</span><a
- name="link217" id="link217"></a>I really cannot afford a chair for you,”
- for I knew my follower on every occasion, even when I should have walked
- made a point of riding. He looked at me, but I suppose he saw I had
- reached the limit of my forbearance. His chest swelled out virtuously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I strong young man, I walk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I made another effort. “But the bottom of the mountain is a good way
- off, how shall I get there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I talkee 'cartee man,' he takee Missie two dollars.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was mounting up. I knew it would.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who will look after our things here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One piecey 'cartee man,' stop,” said he airily.
- So it was all arranged and I was booked for the Nine Dragon Temple whether
- I liked it or not. Then there was the night to consider in this new inn,
- the safety of which Tuan had doubted. In my room were all my possessions,
- including the black box with the money in it, and I looked at the door and
- saw to my dismay that there was no fastening on the inside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I take care Missie,” said Tuan loftily, and then <span
- class="pagenum">218</span><a name="link218" id="link218"></a>proceeded to
- instruct me in the precautions he had taken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Innkeeper man ask how long Missie stay and I say p'r'aps
- five day, p'r'aps ten day. No tell true.” No tell true
- indeed, for I had every intention of leaving next day even if I did have
- to go up to the mountain temple in the morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again I looked at the rough planks of the door coming down to the earthen
- floor, and decided I would draw my heavy box across it, and I said so to
- Tuan.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he was emphatic, “I take care Missie,” I wonder if he
- would have done so had there really been any danger. Then he bid me good
- night and, going out, drew the door to after him and proceeded to lock it
- on the outside! I presume he put the key in his pocket. Some papers have
- honoured me by referring to me as a “distinguished traveller,”
- and I have had hopes of being elected to the Royal Geographical Society!
- For a moment I thought of calling him back indignantly, and then I thought
- better of it. “A man thinks he knows,” says the Chinese
- proverb, “but a woman knows better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The window was frail and all across the room, and I knew I could break the
- lattice-work if I wanted to, so could the thief for that matter, so I
- slept peacefully, the sleep of the utterly weary, and the innkeeper proved
- an honest man after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- And next day, after breakfast, just as the sun was rising, I started for
- the Nine Dragon Temple. The peak which it crowned stood out from the rest
- like a very acute triangle. They say the camera cannot lie, I only know I
- did not succeed in getting a photograph of that mountain that gave any
- idea of its steepness. Its slopes, faintly tinged with green and dotted
- with fir-trees, fell away like the sides of a house from the narrow top
- that was crowned with buildings. It was just one of the many holy
- mountains that are scattered over China, and it seemed to me, looking up,
- that nothing but a bird could reach it. But still I had to try. All the
- country was bathed in the golden rays of the sun as I climbed into the
- cart, and we made our way through a ruined city that must once have been
- very rich and prosperous. Only the poorest of the poor apparently lived
- among the ruins, and we went through a ruined gateway where no man watched
- now, and over half-tilled fields, to the supplementary temple at the
- bottom of the mountain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here Tuan blossomed forth wonderfully. Up till now he had only been my
- servant, a most important servant but still a servant, now he became, on a
- sudden, that much more important functionary, my interpreter.
- </p>
- <p>
- A solemn old gentleman in a dark-coloured robe with a shaven head received
- me with that perfect courtesy which it is my experience these monks always
- show, escorted me into a large room with a k'ang on one side and a
- figure of a god, large and gorgeous, facing the door. He asked me my age,
- as apparently the most important question he could ask—it <i>is</i>
- rather an important factor in one's life—and then when I was
- seated on the k'ang, with my interpreter, in his very best clothes
- of silk brocade, on the other, a variety of cakes in little dishes were
- set on the k'ang table beside me, and a small shavenheaded little
- boy who I was informed was called “Trees” was set to pour out
- tea as long as I would drink it. I was so amused at the importance of
- Tuan. Not for worlds would I have given him away as he sat there sipping
- tea and nibbling at a piece of cake; and I wonder still what he thought I
- thought. Did he fear I should call him to account for sitting down as if
- he were on terms of equality with me? Did he think I was a fool, or was he
- properly grateful that I allowed him this little latitude? At any rate,
- except in the matter of squeeze, he always served me very well indeed, and
- there is no doubt my dignity was enhanced by going about with a real, live
- interpreter. The priest could not know what a very inadequate one he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently they came and announced that the chair was ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Put on new ropes,” announced my interpreter pointing out the
- lashings to me. The chair was fastened to a couple of stout poles and four
- coolies, they might have been own brothers to the ones I had at the Ming
- Tombs, lifted it to their shoulders and we were off. All the people who
- dwelt in the little hamlet that clustered round the temple at the foot of
- the mountain, hoary-headed old men, little, naked children, small-footed
- women, peeped out and looked at the foreign woman as she passed on her
- pilgrimage up the steep and narrow pathway, the first foreigner that had
- passed up this way for some years, and probably the only one who would
- pass up this year. It took a good many people to get me up, I noticed, it
- wouldn't have been Tuan if it hadn't. There was his
- all-important self of course, there was a man carrying my camera, another
- one carrying my umbrella and a bundle of incense sticks, there were
- various minor hangers-on in the shape of small boys, and there were, of
- course, my four chair coolies.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0316.jpg" alt="0316 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0316.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0317.jpg" alt="0317 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0317.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- A Chinese chair is a most uncomfortable thing anyway, and this had
- exaggerated the faults of its kind. Always it is so built that there is
- not seat enough, while the back seems specially arranged to pitch the
- unlucky occupant forward. It is bad enough in the ordinary way—going
- up a mountain, and a very steep mountain, it is anathema, and coming down
- it is beyond words. And this mountain was steep, its looks had not belied
- it; never have I gone up such a steep place before, never, I devoutly
- hope, shall I go up such a steep place again. The mountain fell away, and
- I looked out into space on either side. I could see hills, of course, away
- in the far distance, with a great gulf between me and them, rounded,
- treeless hills with just a faint touch of green upon them, and the trees
- on my own mountain, firs and pines with an occasional poplar, green and
- fresh with the tender green of May time, stood up at an acute angle with
- the hill-side above, and an obtuse angle below. The air was fresh, and
- keen, and invigorating, and in the green grass grew bulbs like purple
- crocuses, wild jessamine sweetly scented, and delicate blue wild
- hyacinths, that in Staffordshire they call blue bells. I remember once in
- a delightful wood in the Duke of Sutherland's grounds near
- Stoke-on-Trent, that most sordid town of the Black Country, seeing the
- ground there carpeted with just such blossoms as I saw here on the holy
- mountain in China.
- </p>
- <p>
- Up we went and up. There were stone steps put together without mortar, all
- the way, and there were platforms every here and there, where the weary
- <span class="pagenum">222</span><a name="link222" id="link222"></a>might
- rest, and because the hill was so steep, these platforms were generally
- made by piling up stones that looked as if a touch would send them rolling
- to the bottom of the mountain, a step and one would be over oneself, for
- there were no barriers. It was twelve li, four miles up, and the way was
- broken by smaller temples dedicated to various gods, among them one to the
- goddess who takes pity on barren women. This one was half-way up the
- mountain, and here we met a small-footed woman toiling along with the aid
- of a stick. Half-way up that cruel mountain she had crawled on her aching
- feet, and every day she would come up, she told us, to burn incense at the
- shrine. And she looked old, old. It would be a miracle indeed, I thought,
- if she bore that longed-for child. Hope must be dying very hard indeed.
- And yet she must have known. Poor thing, poor weary woman, what was the
- tragedy of her life? Children, one would think, were a drug in the market
- in China, they swarm everywhere. I burned an incense stick for her and
- could only hope the God of Pity would answer her prayer, and take away her
- reproach before men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Up and up and up, and so steep it grew I was fain to shut my eyes else the
- sensation that I would fall off into space would have been too much for
- me. From the doorways of the wayside temples we passed through we looked
- into space, and the mountains at the other side of the valley seemed
- farther away than ever. A cuckoo called and called again “Cuckoo!
- Cuckoo!” As we waited once a coolie passed with a bamboo across his
- shoulder from which were slung two very modern kerosene tins—Babylon
- and America meeting—and they told me there was no water on the
- mountain, every drop had to be carried up; and then the men took up the
- poles on their shoulders and tramped on again, and every time they changed
- the pole from one shoulder to the other I felt I would surely fall off
- into the valley, miles below. Up and up and up, they were streaming with
- perspiration, and at last when it seemed to me we had arrived at the
- highest point of the world, and that it was very like a needle-point, they
- set down my chair at the bottom of the flight of steps that led up to the
- entrance to the main temple, and the abbot and a crowd of monks stood at
- the top to greet me.
- </p>
- <p>
- They swarmed everywhere, it was impossible to estimate their numbers,
- young men and old, all with shaven heads and dark, rusty red robes, and
- then others, blind, and halt, and maimed, evidently pensioners on their
- bounty. It seemed to me it could hardly be worth while to climb up so
- steep a place for the small dole that was all the monks had it in their
- power to give. It must have been so little, so little. They showed me the
- shrine, a poor little shrine to one who had seen the wonders of the Lama
- Temple in Peking. I took a picture of the abbot standing in front of it,
- and they showed me their kitchen premises, where were great jars of
- vegetables salted and in pickle, and looking most unappetising, but that
- apparently, with millet porridge, was all they had to live on.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was crowded, it was dirty, it was shabby, but there were great stone
- pillars, eighteen of them, that they told me had been brought from a great
- distance south of Peking, and had been carried up the mountain in the days
- of the Mings, long before there were <span class="pagenum">224</span><a
- name="link224" id="link224"></a>the steps, which were only put there a
- little over a hundred years ago—quite recently for China. How they
- could possibly get them up even now that there are four miles of steep
- stone steps I cannot possibly imagine. Babylon! Babylon!! I shut my eyes
- and saw the toiling slaves, heard the crack of the taskmaster's
- whip, and the hopeless moan of the man who sank, crushed and broken,
- beneath the burden.
- </p>
- <p>
- The abbot bowed himself courteously over a gift of thirty cents which
- Tuan, and I am sure he would not have understated it, said was the proper
- <i>cumshaw</i>, and I bade them farewell and turned to go down that hill
- again. The thought of it was heavy on my soul. Outside was a beggar, men
- are close to starvation in China. The wretched, forlorn creature, with
- wild hair and his nakedness hidden by the most disgusting rags, had
- followed my train up all those four steep miles in the hope of a small
- gift. For five cents he too bowed himself in deepest gratitude. It was a
- gift I was ashamed of, but the important interpreter considered he had the
- right to regulate these things, and he certainly led me carefully on all
- other occasions. Then I looked at my chair and I looked at the steep steps
- down which we must go. How could I possibly manage it without getting
- giddy and pitching right forward, for going down would be much worse than
- coming up had been. And then the men showed me that I must get in and be
- carried down backwards.
- </p>
- <p>
- Would they slip? I could but trust not. I was alone and helpless, days,
- and they must have known it, from any of my own people. They might easily
- have held me up and demanded more than the three dollars for which they
- had contracted, but they did not. Patient, uncomplaining, as the
- Babylonish slaves to whom I had compared them, they carried me steadily
- and carefully from temple to temple all the way down, and at every altar
- we stopped I sat and looked on, and Tuan burned incense sticks, the
- officiating priest, he was very poor, dirty and shabby, struck a melodious
- gong as the act of adoration was accomplished and Tuan, in all his best
- clothes, knelt and knocked his head on the ground. I wondered whether I,
- too, was not acquiring merit, for my money had bought the incense sticks,
- and my money, it was only a trifling ten cents, paid the wild-looking
- individual, with torn coat and unshaven head, who carried them up the
- mountain.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0323.jpg" alt="0323 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0323.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0324.jpg" alt="0324 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0324.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Oh, but I had something—something that I cannot put into words—for
- my pains; the something that made the men of five hundred years before
- build the temple on the mountain top to the glory of God, my God and their
- God, by whatever Name you choose to call Him. It was good to sit there
- looking away at the distant vista, at the golden sunlight on the trees and
- grass, at the shadows that were creeping in between, to smell the sensuous
- smell of the jessamine, and if I could not help thinking of all I had lost
- in life, of the fate that had sent me here to the Nine Dragon Temple, at
- least I could count among my gains the beauty that lay before my eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when I reached the bottom of the mountain in safety, I felt I had
- gained merit, for the men who had carried me so carefully were wild with
- gratitude, and evidently called down blessings upon my head, because I
- gave them an extra dollar. It pleased me, and yet saddened me, because it
- seemed an awful thing that twenty-five cents apiece, sixpence <span
- class="pagenum">226</span><a name="link226" id="link226"></a>each, should
- mean so much to any man. Their legs ached, they said. Poor things, poor
- things. Many legs ache in China, and I am afraid more often than not there
- is no one to supply a salve.
- </p>
- <p>
- So we came back to the little mountain inn in the glorious afternoon, and
- the people looked on us as those who had made a pilgrimage, and Tuan
- climbed a little way down from his high estate. He set about getting me a
- meal, the eternal chicken, and rice, and stewed pear, and I looked back at
- the mountain I had climbed and wondered, and was glad, as I am often glad,
- that I had done a thing I need never do again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Was there merit? For Tuan, let us hope, even though I did pay for the
- incense sticks, for me, well I don't know. On the mountain I was
- uplifted, here in the valley I only knew that the view from the high peak,
- the vista of hill and valley, the greenness of the fresh grass on the
- rounded, treeless hills, and the greenness of the springing crops in the
- valley, the golden sunshine and the glorious blue sky of Northern China,
- the sky that is translucent and far away, was something well worth
- remembering. Truly it sometimes seems that all things that are worth doing
- are hard to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII—IN THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAINS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">227</span><a name="link227" id="link227"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Etiquette of the Chinese cart—Ruined city—The building of
- the wall—The advice of a mule—A catastrophe—The failing
- of the Peking cart—Beautiful scenery—Industrious people—The
- posters of the mountains—Inn yards—The heads of the people—Mountain
- dogs—Wolves—A slum people—Artistic hands—“Cavalry”—The
- last pass.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now we were on
- the very borders of China proper. The road was simply awful, very often
- just following the path of a mountain torrent. Always my cart went first,
- and however convenient it sometimes seemed for the other cart to take
- first place, it never did so. Suppose we turned down a narrow path between
- high banks and found we were wrong and had to go back, the second cart
- would make the most desperate effort and get up the bank rather than go
- before me. Such is Chinese etiquette, and like most rules and customs when
- one inquires into the reason of them, there is some sense at the bottom of
- it. A Chinese road is as a rule terribly dusty and the second cart gets
- full benefit of all the dust stirred up.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day after we had been to the Nine Dragon Temple we passed through the
- Great Wall at Hsing Feng K'ou, another little walled city. We had
- spent the night just outside the ruined wall of an old city, a city that
- was nearly deserted. There were <span class="pagenum">228</span><a
- name="link228" id="link228"></a>the old gateways and an old bell tower,
- even an old cannon lying by the gate, but more than half the people were
- gone, and those who remained were evidently poor peasants, living there I
- should say because building material was cheap, and eking out the
- precarious existence of the poor peasant all over China. The hills were
- very close down now and the valleys very narrow, and on a high peak close
- to the crumbling walls was the remains of a beacon tower. Here by the
- border they had need to keep sharp watch and ward. I suppose they have
- nothing to fear now, or perhaps there is nothing to take, but in one
- ruined gateway I passed through they were tending swine, and in another
- they were growing melons. At least it would never be worth the raiders
- while to gather and carry away the insipid melon of China.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Wall is always wonderful. It was wonderful here even in its decay. The
- country looked as if some great giant had upheaved it in great flat slabs,
- raising what had been horizontal almost into the perpendicular. It would
- have been impossible I should have thought for any man, let alone an
- invading army, to cross there; there were steep grassy slopes on one side,
- on the other the precipice was rough and impassable, and yet, on the very
- top of the ridge, ran the wall, broken and falling into decay in some
- places. I do not wonder that it has not been kept in repair, what I wonder
- is that it was ever built. Tradition says they loaded goats with the
- material and drove them to the top of the hills, but it seems to me more
- likely they were carried by slaves. All the strenuous past lived for me
- again as the sunlight touched the tops of the watch-<span class="pagenum">229</span><a
- name="link229" id="link229"></a>towers and I saw how carefully they were
- placed to command a valley. And that life is past and gone, the Manchus
- have conquered and passed away, and the Mongols—well the Mongols
- they say, when they come in contact with the Chinese, always beat them,
- and yet it is the Chinese who, pushing out beyond the Wall, settle on and
- till the rich Mongol pasture lands. There is now no need of the Wall, for
- the Chinese, the timid Chinese have gone beyond it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Inner Mongolia they call this country beyond the Wall, and worse and worse
- got the road, sometimes it was between high banks, sometimes on a ledge of
- the hills, sometimes it followed the course of a mountain torrent, but
- always the general direction was the same, across or along a valley to
- steep and rugged hills, hills sterile, stony, and forbidding, and through
- which there seemed no possible way. There was always a way to the valley
- beyond, but after we passed the Wall I considered it possible only for a
- Peking cart, and by and by I came to think it was only by supreme good
- luck that a Peking cart came through. There was a big brown mule in the
- shafts of my cart, and the fawn mule led, so far away that I wondered more
- than once whether he had anything to do with the traction at all, or
- whether it was only his advice that was needed. He was a wise mule, and
- when he came to a jumping-off place, with apparently nothing beyond it, he
- used to pause and look round as much as to say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jeewhicks!” you couldn't expect much refinement from a
- Chinese mule, “this is tall No can do.” <span class="pagenum">230</span><a
- name="link230_rdquo_________id_" id="link230_rdquo_________id_"></a>The
- carter would jump down from his place on the tail of the shaft. He would
- make a few remarks in Chinese, which, I presume, freely translated were:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not do that place? What 're yer givin' us? Do it on me
- 'ed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the fawn-coloured mule would return to his work with a whisk of his
- tail which said plainly as words:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh all serene. You say can do. Well, I ain't in the cart, I
- ain't even drawing the cart, and I ain't particular pals with
- the gentleman in the shafts, so here goes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the result justified the opinion of both. We did get down, but it
- seemed to me a mighty narrow squeak, and I was breathless at the thought
- that the experience must be repeated in the course of the next hour or so.
- At first I was so terrified I decided I would walk, then I found it took
- me so long—one mountain pass finished off a pair of boots—and
- there were so many of them I decided I had better put my faith in the
- mules if I did not wish to delay the outfit and arrive at Jehol barefoot.
- But I never went up and down those passes without bated breath and a vow
- that never, never again would I trust myself in the mountains in a Peking
- cart. Still I grew to have infinite faith in the Peking cart. I was
- bruised and sore all over, and I found the new nightgowns and chemises in
- my box were worn into holes with the jolting, but I believed a Peking cart
- could go anywhere, and then my confidence received a rude shock.
- </p>
- <p>
- We came to a stony place, steep and stony enough in all conscience, but as
- nothing to some of the places we had passed over, where there had been a
- precipice on one side and a steep cliff on the other, and where to go over
- would certainly have spelled grave disaster, but here there was a bank at
- either side and the fawn-coloured mule never even looked round before
- negotiating it. Up, up went one side of the cart, but I was accustomed to
- that by this time, up, up, the angle grew perilous, and then over we went,
- and I was in the tilt of the cart, almost on my head, and the brown mule
- in the shafts seemed trying to get into the cart backwards. I didn't
- see how he could, but I have unlimited faith in the powers of a Chinese
- mule, so, amidst wild yells from Tuan and the carters, I was out on to the
- hillside before I had time to think, and presently was watching those
- mules make hay of my possessions. They didn't leave a single thing
- either in or on that cart, camera, typewriter, cushions, dressing-bag,
- bedding, all shot out on to what the Chinaman is pleased to consider the
- road, even the heavy box, roped on behind, got loose and fell off, and the
- mule justified my expectations by, in some mysterious way, breaking the
- woodwork at the top of the cart and tearing all the blue tilt away. It
- took us over an hour to get things right again, and my faith in the
- stability of a Peking cart was gone for ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0332.jpg" alt="0332 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0332.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- We were right in the very heart of the mountains now, and the scenery was
- magnificent, close at hand hills, sterile and stony, and behind them range
- after range of other blue hills fading away into the bluer distance. Day
- after day I looked upon a scene that would be magnificent in any land, and
- here in China filled me with wonder. Could this be China, practical,
- prosaic China, China of the ages, <span class="pagenum">232</span><a
- name="link232" id="link232"></a>this beautiful land? And always above me
- was the blue sky, always the golden sunshine and the invigorating, dry air
- that reminded me, as I have never before been reminded, of Australia.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, however desolate and sterile the hills, and they seldom had more than
- an occasional fir-tree upon them, in the valleys were always people and
- evidences of their handiwork in the shape of wonderfully tilled fields.
- There are no fences, the Chinaman does not waste his precious ground in
- fences, but between the carefully driven furrows there is never a weed,
- and all day long the people are engaged turning over the ground so that it
- will not cake, and may benefit by every drop of moisture that may be
- extracted from the atmosphere. A little snow in the winter, a shower or
- two in April, and the summer rains in July or August, are all this
- fruitful land requires for a bountiful harvest, but I am bound to say it
- is fruitful only because of the intense care that is given to it. No one
- surely but a Chinese peasant would work as these people work. In every
- valley bottom there is, according to its size, a town, perhaps built of
- stones with thatched roofs, a small hamlet, or at least a farmhouse,
- enclosed either behind a neat mud wall or a more picturesque one of the
- yellow stalks of the kaoliang. And the people are everywhere, in the very
- loneliest places far up on the hills I would see a spot of blue herding
- black goats or swine, and on parts of the road far away from any
- habitation, when I began to think I had really got beyond even the
- ubiquitous Chinaman, we would meet a forlorn, ragged figure, an old man
- past other work or a small boy with a bamboo across his shoulders and
- slung <span class="pagenum">233</span><a name="link233" id="link233"></a>from
- it two dirty baskets. With scoop in hand he was gathering the droppings of
- the animals with which to make argol for fuel, for enough wood is not to
- be had, and in this respect so industrious are the Chinese that their
- roads are really the cleanest I have ever seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were strangely enough here, in the heart of the mountains, signs of
- foreign enterprise, for however desolate the place might seem, sooner or
- later we were sure to come across the advertisements of the British
- American Tobacco Company. There they would be in a row great placards
- advertising Rooster Cigarettes, or Peacock Cigarettes or Purple Mountain
- Cigarettes, half a dozen pictures, and then one upside down to attract
- attention. I never saw the men who put them there, and I hate the blatant
- advertisement that spoils the scenery as a rule. Here I greeted them with
- a distinct thrill of pleasure. Here were men of my race and colour, doing
- pioneering work in the out-of-the-way corners of the earth, and I
- metaphorically made them a curtsy and wished them well, for no one knows
- better than I do the lonely lives they lead. But they are bringing China
- in touch with the outside world.
- </p>
- <p>
- By and by we came to a place where carts were not seen, the people were
- wiser than I, but there was a constant stream of laden mules and donkeys
- bringing grain inside the wall. Long before I could see them I could hear
- the jingling of the collar of bells most of them wore, and in an inn yard
- we always met the train and saw them start out before us in the morning,
- though we were early enough, I saw to that, often have I had my breakfast
- before five o'clock, or coming in after we did in the <span
- class="pagenum">234</span><a name="link234" id="link234"></a>dusk of the
- evening. I objected to travelling in the dusk. I felt the roads held
- pitfalls enough without adding darkness to our other difficulties.
- </p>
- <p>
- The inns grew poorer and poorer as we got deeper into the mountains but
- always I found in those inn yards something interesting to look at. By
- night I was too weary to do anything but go to bed, but I generally had my
- tiffin in a shady spot in a corner of the yard and watched all that was
- going on. The yard would be crowded with animals, mules, and donkeys, and
- always there were people coming and going, who thought the foreign woman
- was a sight not to be missed. There have been missionaries here or in
- Chihli for the last hundred years, so they must have seen foreign women,
- but the sight cannot be a common one judging by the way they stared. There
- would be well-to-do Chinamen riding nice-looking donkeys, still more
- prosperous ones borne in litters by a couple of protesting mules, and in
- every corner of the yard would be beasts eating. And all these beasts of
- burden required numerous helpers, and the hangers-on were the most
- dilapidated specimens of humanity I have ever seen, not nearly so sure of
- a meal, I'm afraid, as the pigs and hens that wandered round
- scavenging. There would be an occasional old woman and very, very seldom a
- young one with large feet marking her as belonging to the very poorest
- class, but mostly they were men dressed in blue cotton, faded, torn,
- ragged, and yet patched beyond recognition.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Patch beside patch is neighbourly,” says an old saw, “but
- patch upon patch is beggarly.” The poor folks in the inn yards not
- only had patch upon patch, but even the last patches were torn, and they
- <span class="pagenum">235</span><a name="link235" id="link235"></a>looked
- far more poverty-stricken than the children who played about this pleasant
- weather wearing only their birthday dress. But they all had something to
- do. An old man whose bald head must have required little shaving and whose
- weedy queue was hardly worth plaiting, drew water from the well, another
- who had adopted the modern style of dressing the hair gathered up the
- droppings of the animals, a small boy with wild hair that no one had time
- to attend to, and clad in a sort of fringe of rags, drove away the hideous
- black sow and her numerous litter when she threatened to become a
- nuisance, and from earliest dawn to dark there were men cutting chaff. The
- point of a huge knife was fixed in the end of a wooden groove, one man
- pushed the fodder into its position and another lifted the knife by its
- wooden handle and brought it down with all his strength. Then he lifted
- it, and the process was repeated. I have seen men at work thus, in the
- morning before it was light enough to see, I have seen them at it when the
- dusk was falling. There do not seem to be any recognised hours for
- stopping work in China. And all the heads of these people were wild. If
- they wore a queue it was dirty and unplaited, and the shaven part of their
- heads had a week's growth of bristles, and if they were more modern
- in their hair-dressing, their wild black hair stuck out all over the place
- and looked as if it had originally been cut by the simple process of
- sticking a basin on the head and clipping all the hairs that stood out
- round it. But untidy heads of hair are not peculiar to the inn yard, they
- are common enough wherever I have been in China. There were always
- innumerable children in the yard, too, with heads <span class="pagenum">236</span><a
- name="link236" id="link236"></a>shaven all but little tails of hair here
- and there, which, being plaited stiffly, stood out like the headgear of a
- clown, and there were cart men and donkey men, just peasants in blue, with
- their blouses girt round their waists. There were the guests, too,
- petticoated Chinese gentlemen, squires, or merchants, or well-to-do
- farmers, standing in the doorways looking on, and occasionally ladies,
- dressed in the gayest colours, with their faces powdered and painted,
- peeped shyly out, half secretively, as if they were ashamed, but felt they
- must take one look at the foreign woman who walked about as if she were
- not ashamed of the open daylight, and was quite capable of managing for
- herself. Sometimes I was taken to the women's quarters, where the
- women-folk of the innkeeper dwelt, and there, seated on a k'ang, in
- a room that had never been aired since it was built, I would find feminine
- things of all ages, from the half-grown girl, who in England would have
- been playing hockey, to the old great grandmother who was nursing the cat.
- They always offered me tea, and I always took it, and they always examined
- my dress, scornfully I am afraid, because it was only of cotton, and
- wanted to lay their fingers in the waves of my hair, only I drew the line
- at those dirty hands coming close to my face. At first it all seemed
- strange, but in a day I felt as if I had been staying in just such inns
- all my life. The farther one wanders I find the sooner does novelty wear
- off. As a little girl, to go fifty miles from my home and to have my meals
- off a different-patterned china gave me a delightful sense of novelty, and
- to sleep in a strange bed kept me awake all night. Now in an hour—oh
- far less—nothing feels new, not even the courtyard of a Chinese
- mountain inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0340.jpg" alt="0340 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0340.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- I have never seen so many people with goitres. The missionaries at Jehol
- told me it was very much dreaded, and that the people brought the
- affliction upon themselves by flying into violent passions. I doubt very
- much whether that is the origin of the goitre; but that it is very much
- dreaded, I can quite believe. For not only does a goitre look most
- unsightly, but the unfortunate possessor must always keep his head very
- straight, for if he lets it drop forward, even for a moment, he closes the
- air passages, and is in danger of suffocating. I have heard it is brought
- on by something in the water. Water, of course, I never dared drink in
- China. I saw very pleasant, clear-looking, liquid drawn up from the wells
- in those inn courtyards in closely plaited buckets of basket-work, but I
- never ventured upon it. I always remembered Aunt Eliza:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “In the drinking well
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Which the plumber built her,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Aunt Eliza fell.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- We must buy a filter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Eliza's cheerful, if somewhat callous, legatees had some place
- where they could buy a filter, I had not, besides, I am sure, all the
- filters in the world could not make safe water drawn from a well in a
- Chinese inn yard, so I drank tea, which necessitates the water being
- boiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Chinese build their wells with the expectation of someone, not
- necessarily Aunt Eliza, coming to grief in them. On one occasion a man of
- my acquaintance was ordering a well to be made in his yard, and he
- instructed the well-sinker that he need <span class="pagenum">238</span><a
- name="link238" id="link238"></a>not make it, as the majority of Chinese
- wells are made, much wider at the bottom than at the top. But the workman
- shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- He must make it, he said, wide enough at the bottom for a man—or
- woman, they are the greatest offenders—to turn round if he flung
- himself in. He might change his mind and want to get out again, and if a
- body were found in a well not roomy enough to allow of this change of
- mind, he, the builder, would be tried for murder.
- </p>
- <p>
- This thoughtful consideration for the would-be suicide, who might wish to
- repent, is truly Chinese. Personally I doubt very much whether anyone
- would take the trouble to investigate the bottom of a well. There might
- easily be something very much worse than Aunt Eliza in it. Presumably she
- was a well-to-do, and therefore a clean old lady, while the frequenters of
- those yards were beyond description.
- </p>
- <p>
- The people in the little towns, and more especially those in the lonely
- farm-houses which looked so neat and well-kept in contrast with the
- ragged, dirty objects that came out of them, kept a most handsome breed of
- dogs. Sometimes they were black and white, or grey, but more often they
- were a beautiful tawny colour. They were, apparently, of the same breed as
- the <i>wonks</i> that infest all Chinese towns, but there was the same
- difference between these dogs and the <i>wonks</i> as there is between a
- miserable, mangy mongrel and the pampered beast that takes first prize at
- a great show. Indeed, I should like to see these great mountain dogs at a
- show, I imagine they would be hard to beat. They looked very fierce,
- whether they are or not I don't know, because I always gave them a
- wide berth, and <span class="pagenum">239</span><a name="link239"
- id="link239"></a>Tuan, the cautious, always shook his head when one came
- too close, called to someone else with a stick to drive it away, and
- murmured his usual formula: “Must take care.” They told me
- there were wolves among these mountains, and I can quite believe it,
- though I never saw one. In the dead of winter they are fierce and
- dangerous, and much dreaded. They come into the villages, steal the
- helpless children, will make a snap at a man in passing and inflict
- terrible wounds. A Chinaman will go to sleep in all sorts of uncomfortable
- spots, and more than one has been wakened by having half the side of his
- face torn away. Of such a wound as this the man generally dies, but so
- many are seen who have so suffered, and gruesome sights they are, that the
- wolves must be fairly numerous and exceedingly bold. They take the
- children, too, long before the winter has come upon the land. There was a
- well-loved child, most precious, the only son of the only son, and his
- parents and grandparents being busy harvesting they left him at home
- playing happily about the threshold. When they came back, after a short
- absence, they found he had been so terribly mauled by a wolf that shortly
- after he died, and the home was desolate. And yet these wolves are very
- difficult to shoot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have never seen one,” a man told me. “Again and
- again, when I was in the mountains, the villagers would come complaining
- of the depredations of a wolf. I could see for myself the results of his
- visit, but never, never have I found the wolf. It seems as if they must
- smell a gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When first I heard of the wolves I laughed. I was so sure no beast of prey
- could live alongside <span class="pagenum">240</span><a
- name="link240_rdquo_________id_" id="link240_rdquo_________id_"></a>a
- Chinaman, the Chinaman would want to eat him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They would if they could catch him,” said my friend, “but
- they can't, though the majority of the population are on the
- look-out for him. There is nothing of the hunter about the Chinaman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Meat!” said a wretched farmer once, rubbing his stomach, when
- the missionaries fed him during a famine. He couldn't remember when
- he had tasted meat, and not in his most prosperous year had he had such a
- feast as his saviours had given him then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much do you make a year?” asked the missionary.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought a little and then he said that, in a good year, he perhaps made
- twelve dollars, but then, of course, all years were not good years. But
- we, on our part, must remember that these people belong to another age,
- and that the purchasing power of the dollar for their wants is greater
- than it is with us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very, very lonely it seems to me must these mountain villages be when the
- frost of winter holds the hills in its grip, very shut out from the world
- were they now in the early summer, and very little could they know of the
- life that goes on within the Wall, let alone in other lands. Indeed there
- are no other lands for the Chinese of this class, this is his country, and
- this suffices for him, everybody else is in outer barbarism.
- </p>
- <p>
- Steeper and steeper grew the hills, more and more toilsome the way, and
- the people, when we stopped, looked more and more wonderingly at the
- stranger. At one place, where I had tiffin, I shared the room and the k'ang,
- the sun was so hot and there was no shade, so I could not stay outside,
- with six women <span class="pagenum">241</span><a
- name="link241_rdquo_________id_" id="link241_rdquo_________id_"></a>of all
- ages, two had babies that had never been washed, two had hideous goitres,
- and all had their hair gathered into long curved horns at the back. There
- was also on the floor, a promising litter of little pigs, and three
- industrious hens. The women's blue coats were old, torn, patched,
- soiled, and yet——oh the pity of it, these women, who had to
- work hard for their living, work in the fields probably, had their feet
- bound. One had not, but all the rest were maimed. Two of them had their
- throats all bruised, and I wondered if they had been trying to hang
- themselves as a means of getting away from a life that had no joy in it,
- but I afterwards found that with two coins, or anything else that will
- serve the purpose, coins are probably rather scarce, they pinch up the
- flesh and produce these bruises as a counter-irritant, and, ugly as it
- looks, it is often very effective.
- </p>
- <p>
- These should have been country people, if ever any people belonged to the
- country, and then, as I looked at them, the truth dawned on me. There are
- no country people in the China I have seen, as I from Australia know
- country people, the men of the bush. They—yes—here in the
- mountains, are a people of mean streets, a slum people, decadent, the very
- sediment of an age-long civilisation. I said this to a man who had lived
- long in China and spoke the language well, and he looked at me in
- surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” he said, “they all seem to me country people. The
- ordinary people of the towns are just country yokels.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But we meant exactly the same thing. I looked at the country people I had
- known all my life, the capable, resourceful pioneers, facing new
- conditions, <span class="pagenum">242</span><a name="link242" id="link242"></a>breaking
- new ground, ready for any emergency, the men who, if they could not found
- a new nation, must perish; he was looking at the men from sleepy little
- country villages in the old land, men who had been left behind in the
- race. And so we meant exactly the same thing, though we expressed it in
- apparently opposing terms. These people are serfs, struggling from dawn to
- dark for enough to fill their stomachs, toiling along a well-worn road,
- without originality, bound to the past, with all the go and initiative
- crushed out of them. As their fathers went so must they go, the evils that
- their fathers suffered must they suffer, and the struggle for a bare
- existence is so cruelly hard, that they have no hope of improving
- themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was all interesting, wonderful, but I do not think ever in the world
- have I felt so lonely. I longed with an intense longing to see someone of
- my own colour, to speak with someone in my own tongue.
- </p>
- <p>
- I don't know that I was exactly afraid, and yet sometimes when I saw
- things that I did not understand, I wondered what I should do if anything
- did happen. Considering the way some people had talked in Peking, it would
- have been a little surprising if I had not. Once we came upon a place
- where the side of the road was marked with crosses in whitewash and I
- wondered. I remembered the stories I had heard of the last anti-Christian
- outbreak, and I wondered if those crosses had anything to do with another.
- It all sounds very foolish now, but I remember as cross after cross came
- into view I was afraid, and at last I called Tuan and asked him what they
- meant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some man,” said he, “give monies mend road, <span
- class="pagenum">243</span><a name="link243" id="link243"></a>puttee white
- so can see where mend it.” And that was all! But what that road was
- like before it was mended I cannot imagine!
- </p>
- <p>
- At last, after a wearying day's journey of one hundred and twenty
- li, or forty miles, over the roughest roads in the world, we came in the
- evening sunlight upon a long line of grunting, ragged camels just outside
- a great square gate enclosed in heavy masonry, and we were at Pa Kou, as
- it is spelt by the wisdom of those who have spelled Chinese, but it is
- pronounced Ba Go. It is a city or rather a long street, twenty li or
- nearly seven miles long, and the houses were packed as closely together in
- that street as they are in London itself. The worst of the journey, Tuan
- told me, was over. There was another range of mountains to cross, we had
- been going north, now we were to go west, it would take us two days and we
- would be in Jehol.
- </p>
- <p>
- And here, for the first time, the authorities took notice of me. The first
- inn we stopped at was dirty, and Tuan went on a tour of inspection to see
- if he could not find one more to his Missie's liking, and I sat in
- my cart and watched the crowded throng, and thought that never in my life
- had I been so tired—I ached in every limb. If the finding of an inn
- had depended on me I should simply have gone to sleep where I was. At last
- it was decided there was none better, and into the crowded and dirty yard
- we went, and I, as soon as my bed was put up, had my bath and got into it,
- as the only clean place there was, besides I was too tired to eat, and I
- thought I might as well rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I had been seen sitting in the street, and the Tutuh of the town, the
- Chief Magistrate, sent his <span class="pagenum">244</span><a
- name="link244" id="link244"></a>secretary to call upon the “distinguished
- traveller” and to ask if she, Tuan, who never could manage the
- pronouns, reported it as “he,” had a passport. The “distinguished
- traveller” apologised for being in bed and unable to see the great
- man's secretary, and sent her servant—I noticed he put on his
- best clothes, so I suppose he posed as an interpreter—to show she
- had a passport all in order. He came back looking very grave and very
- important.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She say must take care, plenty robber, must have soldier.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here was a dilemma. I had heard so much about the robbers of China, and
- the robbers of China are by no means pleasant gentlemen to meet. A robber
- band is not an uncommon thing, but is more dangerous probably, to the
- people of the land than to the foreigner, for here in the north the lesson
- of 1900 has been well rubbed in. It is a dangerous thing to tackle a
- foreigner. Dire is the vengeance that is exacted for his life. Still I
- wasn't quite comfortable in my own mind. I thought of the mighty
- robber White Wolf, who ravaged Honan, of whom even the missionaries and
- the British American Tobacco Company are afraid. On one occasion two
- missionaries were hunted by his band and driven so close that, as they lay
- hidden under a pile of straw, a pursuer stood on the shoulder of one of
- them. He lay hardly daring to breathe and the robber moved away without
- discovering their hiding-place. Afterwards, however, they did fall into
- the hands of White Wolf, who, contrary to their expectations, courteously
- fed them and set them on their way. Of course, they had nothing of which
- to be despoiled, and it was their good-fortune to fall into <span
- class="pagenum">245</span><a name="link245" id="link245"></a>the hands of
- the leader himself, who knows a little of the world, and something of the
- danger of attacking a foreigner. The danger had been that they might fall
- into the hands of his men, his ignorant followers, who, in their zeal,
- would probably kill them, perhaps with torture, and report to the chief
- later on. This happened after I had been to Jehol, but, of course, I had
- heard of White Wolf. I knew his country was farther to the south in the
- more disturbed zone, and I did not expect to meet robbers here. Still I
- had the Tutuh's word for it that here they were.
- </p>
- <p>
- If you are going to have any anxiety in the future, I have come to the
- conclusion it is just as well to be dead tired. I couldn't do
- anything, and I was utterly tired out. I had been in the open air all day
- since five o'clock in the morning, I was safe, in all probability,
- for the night, and robbers or no robbers, I felt I might as well have a
- sound night's rest and see what the situation looked like in the
- morning. I heard afterwards there were missionaries in the town, and had I
- known it, I might have sought them out and taken counsel with men of my
- own colour, but I did not know it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must have soldier,” repeated Tuan emphatically, standing
- beside my camp bed. “How many soldier Missie want?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I had heard too many stories of Chinese soldiers to put much reliance on
- them as protectors. I didn't know offhand how many I wanted. I was
- by no means sure that I wouldn't be just as safe with the robbers.
- One thing was certain, I couldn't go back within two days of my
- destination, besides for all I knew, the robbers were behind me.
- </p>
- <p>
- I put it to Tuan. <span class="pagenum">246</span><a
- name="link246_rdquo_________id_" id="link246_rdquo_________id_"></a>"Suppose
- I have no passport, what the Tutuh do then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” said my henchman emphatically, “he no care
- robber get Missie.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Evidently the Tutuh meant well by me, so I said they might send a soldier
- for me to look at, at six o'clock next morning and then I would
- decide how many I would have, and feeling that at least I had eleven hours
- respite, I turned over and went to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- Punctually the soldier turned up. He was a good-tempered little man, all
- in blue a little darker than the ordinary coolie wears, over it he had a
- red sleeveless jacket marked with great black Chinese characters, back and
- front, a mob cap of blue was upon his head, over his eyes a paper
- lampshade; he had a nice little sturdy pony, and, for all arms, a fly
- whisk!
- </p>
- <p>
- I didn't feel I could really be afraid of him, and I strongly
- suspected the robbers would thoroughly agree with me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's he for?” I asked Tuan.
- </p>
- <p>
- That worthy looked very grave. “Must take care,” he replied
- with due deliberation. “Plenty robber. She drive away robber. How
- many soldier Missie have?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Well there was nothing for it but to face the danger, if danger there was.
- I don't know now if there was any. It is so difficult to believe
- that any unpleasant thing will happen to one. Again I reflected that there
- is no danger in China till the danger actually arrives, and then it is too
- late. What my guardian was to drive away robbers with I am sure I don't
- know, for I cannot see that the fly whisk would have been very effective.
- The “cartee men” were perfectly willing to go on, so I said I
- thought this warrior would be amply sufficient for all purposes, and we
- started.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0352.jpg" alt="0352 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0352.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Everybody in Pa Kou keeps a lark, I should think, and every one of those
- larks were singing joyously as we left the town. Never have I heard such a
- chorus of bird song, and the morning was delightful. My guardian rode
- ahead, and for three hours as we jolted over the track, I kept a look-out
- for robbers, wondered what they would be like, and what I should do when
- we met, but the only things I saw were bundles of brushwood for the
- kitchen fires of Pa Kou, apparently walking thitherward on four donkey
- legs. They reassured me, those bundles of brushwood, they had such a
- peaceful look. Somehow I didn't think we were going to meet any
- robbers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Evidently Tuan and the “cartee men” came to the same
- conclusion, for, at the end of three hours, they came and said the soldier
- must be changed, did Missie want another? Missie thought she didn't,
- and the guard was dismissed, his services being valued at twenty cents. It
- was plenty, for he came, with beaming face, and bowed his thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- That was the only time I had anything to do with soldiers on the journey,
- and I forgot all about him, hieroglyphics, lampshade, fly whisk, and all,
- till I found entered in the accounts, Tuan was a learned clerk and kept
- accounts: “Cavalry, twenty cents.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then I felt I had had more than my money's worth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The last night of my journey I spent at Liu Kou, the sixth valley, and the
- next morning the men made <span class="pagenum">248</span><a
- name="link248_rdquo_________id_" id="link248_rdquo_________id_"></a>tremendous
- efforts to hide all trace of the disaster that had befallen us on the way.
- I said it didn't matter, it could wait till we got to Jehol, but
- both Tuan and the “cartee men” were of a different opinion.
- Apparently they would lose face if they came to their journey's end
- in such a condition, and I had to wait while the cloth was taken off the
- back of the cart, and carefully put on in front, so that the broken wood
- was entirely concealed. Then, when everybody was satisfied that we were
- making at least a presentable appearance, we started. You see, I never
- appreciated the situation properly. To travel in a cart seemed to me so
- humble a mode of progression, that it really did not matter very much
- whether it were broken or not, indeed a broken cart seemed more to me like
- going the whole hog, and roughing it thoroughly while we were about it.
- But with the men it was different, a cart was a most dignified mode of
- conveyance, and to enter a big town in a broken one was as bad as
- travelling in a motor with all the evidences of a breakdown upon it, due
- to careless driving. And when I saw their point of view, of course I at
- once sat down on some steps and watched an old man draw water, and a
- disgusting-looking sow, who made me forswear bacon, attend to the wants of
- her numerous black progeny.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tuan passed the time by having a heated argument with the landlord. The
- fight waxed furious, as I was afterwards told, regarding the hot water I
- had required for my bath, which was heated in a long pipe, like a copper
- drain-pipe, that was inserted in a hole by the k'ang fire. Fuel is
- scarce, and stern necessity has seen to it that these people get the <span
- class="pagenum">249</span><a name="link249" id="link249"></a>most they
- possibly can out of a fire. I hope Than paid him fairly, but of course I
- do not know, I parted with a dollar for the night's lodging and the
- little drop of hot water, for otherwise we carried our own fuel—charcoal—bought
- our provisions and cooked for ourselves, but we left that landlord
- protesting at the gate that he would never put up another foreigner.
- </p>
- <p>
- That last day's journey was, I think, the hardest day of all, or
- perhaps it was that I was tired out. There was a long, long mountain to be
- got over, the Hung Shih La, the Red Stone Rock, and we crossed it by a
- pass, the worst of many mountain passes we had come across. We climbed up
- slowly to the top and there was a tablet to the memory of the man who had
- repaired the road. What it was like before it was repaired I can't
- imagine, or perhaps it was not done very recently, say within a couple of
- hundred years, for the road was very bad. There is only room for one
- vehicle, and the carters raised their voices in a loud singsong, to warn
- all whom it might concern that they were occupying the road. What would
- happen if one cart entered at one end and another at the other I am sure I
- cannot imagine, for there seemed to be no place that I could see where
- they could pass each other, and I think it must be at least three steep
- miles long. I did not trust the carts. I walked. My faith in a Peking cart
- and mule had gone for ever, and if we had started to roll here, it seemed
- to me, we should not have stopped till we reached America or Siberia at
- least. So every step of the way I walked, and Tuan would have insisted
- that the carts come behind me. But here I put my foot down, etiquette or
- no etiquette I insisted they should go in front. I felt <span
- class="pagenum">250</span><a name="link250" id="link250"></a>it would be
- just as bad to be crushed by a falling cart as to be upset in it, so they
- went on ahead, and when we met people, and we met a good many on foot,
- Tuan called out to them and probably explained that such was the foolish
- eccentricity of his Missie that, though she was rich beyond the dreams of
- avarice, and always travelled with two carts, she yet insisted upon
- walking down all the passes.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was worth it too, for the view was glorious, the sunlight, the golden
- sunlight of a Chinese afternoon, fell on range after range of softly
- rounded hills, the air was so clear that miles and miles away I could see
- their folds, with here and there a purple shadow, and here and there the
- golden light. And over all was the arc of the blue sky. Beautiful, most
- beautiful it was, and I was only regretful that, like so many of the
- beautiful things I have seen in life, I looked on it alone. I shall never
- look on it again. The journey is too arduous, too difficult, but I am
- glad, very glad indeed, that I have seen it once.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was getting late. At the bottom of the pass I got into my cart, and
- was driven along a disused mountain torrent that occupied the bed of the
- valley under a line of trees just bursting into leaf. The shadows were
- long with the coming night, and at last we forded a shallow river and came
- into the dusty, dirty town of Cheng Teh Fu, an unwalled town beyond which
- is Jehol, the Hunting Palace of the Manchu Emperors.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here there were thousands of soldiers, not like my “cavalry,”
- but modern, khaki-clad men like those in Peking, gathered together to go
- against the Mongols, for China was at war, and apparently was <span
- class="pagenum">251</span><a name="link251" id="link251"></a>getting the
- worst of it, and the air was ringing with bugle calls.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then Tuan and I had an argument. He wanted me to go to an inn. The
- streets were dusty, dirty, evil-smelling, I was weary to death, my dress
- had been rubbed into holes by the jolting of the cart, and my flesh
- rebelled at the very thought of a Chinese inn. But what was I to do? There
- were no Europeans in Jehol save the missionaries, and I was so very sure
- it was wasted labour to try and convert the Chinese it seemed unfair to go
- to the mission station.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then I suddenly felt I must speak to someone, must hear my own tongue
- again, must be sympathised with, by a woman if possible, and in spite of
- the protests of Tuan who saw all chance of squeeze at an end, I made them
- turn the mules' heads to the mission.
- </p>
- <p>
- There a sad, sweet-faced woman gave me, a total stranger, the kindest and
- warmest of welcomes, and I paid off the “cartee men.” For
- sixty dollars they had brought me two hundred and eighty miles, mostly
- across the mountains, they had been honest, hard-working, attentive,
- patient, and good-tempered, and for a <i>cumshaw</i> of five dollars they
- bowed themselves to the ground. I know they got it, because I took the
- precaution to pay them myself, and as I watched them go away down the
- street I made a solemn vow that never again would I travel in the
- mountains, and never, never again would I submit myself to the tender
- mercies of a Peking cart. It is one of the things I am glad I have done,
- but I am glad also it is behind me with no necessity to do again.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV—TO THE GREEKS, FOOLISHNESS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">252</span><a name="link252" id="link252"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Missionary compound—Prayer—Reputed dangers of the way—The
- German girl—Midwife—The Bible as a guide—“My yoke
- is easy, My burden is light”—A harem—Helping the sick
- and afflicted—A case of hysteria—Drastic remedies—Ensuring
- a livelihood—“Strike, strike”—Barbaric war-song—The
- Chinese soldier—The martyrdom of the Roman Catholic priest.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd with my
- entrance into that missionary compound I entered a world as strange to me
- as the Eastern world I had come across two continents to see.
- </p>
- <p>
- The compound is right in the heart of the town, and was originally a
- Chinese inn, built, in spite of the rigour of the climate, Chinese
- fashion, so that to go from one room to the other it was necessary to go
- out of doors. The walls looking on to the street were blank, except in the
- room I occupied, where was a small window, so high up I could not see out
- of it. How it must be to pass from one room to the other when the bitter
- winter of Northern China holds the mountains in its grip, I do not know.
- </p>
- <p>
- I walked in out of the unknown and there came forward to meet me that
- sad-looking woman with the soft brown eyes and bright red lips. Take me
- in, yes, indeed she would take me in. I was dusty, I was torn, and I think
- I was more weary than I <span class="pagenum">253</span><a
- name="link253_rdquo_________id_" id="link253_rdquo_________id_"></a>have
- ever been in my life, and she made me welcome, made me lie down in a long
- chair, and had tea brought in. A tall buxom German girl entered, and then
- to my surprise, and not a little to my discomfort, my hostess bowed her
- head, and thanked God openly that I had come through the dangers of the
- way, and been brought safely to their compound! For a moment it took my
- breath away, and so self-conscious was I, that I did not know which way to
- look. My father was a pillar of the Church of England, Chancellor of the
- Diocese in which we lived, and I had been brought up straitly in the fold,
- among a people who, possibly, felt deeply on occasion, but who never,
- never would have dreamt of applying religion personally and openly to each
- other. Frankly I felt very uncomfortable after I had been prayed over, and
- it seemed a sort of bathos to go on calmly drinking tea and eating bread
- and jam. The German girl had just arrived, and they heard that the day
- after she had left Peking, the German Consul had sent round to the mission
- station, where she had been staying, to cancel her passport, and to say
- that on no account must she go to Jehol as the country was too disturbed.
- However she and her escort, one of the missionaries, had come through
- quite safely, and the Tartar General in charge here had said she might
- stay so long as she did not go outside the boundaries of the town. But
- naturally, they were much surprised to see me, a woman and alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked round the room, the general sitting-room, a bare stone-floored
- room, with a mat or two upon it, a little cane furniture, a photograph or
- two, and some texts upon the walls, a harmonium, a <span class="pagenum">254</span><a
- name="link254" id="link254"></a>couple of tables, and a book-case
- containing some very old-fashioned books, mostly of a religious tendency,
- and some stories by A.L.O.E. There was a time when I thought A.L.O.E's
- stories wonderful, and so I read one or two of them while I was here, and
- wondered what it was that had charmed me when I was eleven.
- </p>
- <p>
- The only other woman in that compound, beside my hostess, was the German
- girl who had come out to help.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I gave myself to the Lord for China,” she said, and she spoke
- simply and quietly, as if she were saying the most natural thing in the
- world, as if there could be no doubt of the value of the gift—truly
- it was her all, she could not give more. And the Chinese did need her, I
- think—that is only my opinion—but not exactly in the way she
- counted most important. She had taken the precaution to become a midwife,
- and indeed she must be a godsend, for Chinese practices are crude and
- cruel in the extreme. It is the child that counts, the mother, even in her
- hour of travail, must literally make no moan. A woman once told me how she
- went to see her amah, who was expecting a baby, and she was asked to wait.
- She waited about an hour, for she was anxious about the woman, and the
- room was very still, there was no sound till the silence was broken by the
- first cry of the new-born infant. The child had been born behind the
- screen while she waited, and an hour later, to her horror, the white-faced
- young mother was up and preparing to cook the family evening meal. The
- woman would not have cried out for the world. No Chinese woman would. If
- poor human flesh is weak, and a <span class="pagenum">255</span><a
- name="link255" id="link255"></a>sigh of pain escape her, her mother-in-law
- will cover her mouth with her hand, but mostly the woman will gag herself
- with her long black hair, she will not disgrace herself by a cry as long
- as her senses are with her. It is all very well to say the Chinese do not
- suffer as white women suffer. They are not like the sturdy negro women who
- have lived a primitive, open-air life, walk like queens, and have
- exercised every muscle. They are the crippled products of an effete
- civilisation, who spend long hours on the k'ang, and go as little as
- possible from their own compound. To those women that German girl will be
- a blessing untold. I think of their bodies while she labours for their
- souls. Anyway she is surely sent by God.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were two men here to make up the complement, one was my missionary's
- husband, a man who takes the Bible for his guide in everything, the Bible
- as it is translated into the English tongue. He does not read primarily
- for the beauty of the language, for the rhythm, for the poetry, for the
- Eastern glamour that is over all. He reads it, he would tell you himself,
- for the truth. It is to him the most important thing in the world; he
- quotes it, he lives by it, it is never out of his thoughts, he might be a
- Covenanter of old Puritan days. And the fourth missionary is a man of the
- world. I don't think he realises it himself, but he is. He had lived
- there many years, had married a wife and brought up children there, and
- now had sent them home to be educated, and he himself talked, not of the
- Bible, though I doubt not he is just as keen as the other, but of the
- people, and their manner of life, and their customs, of the country, and
- of the strangers he had <span class="pagenum">256</span><a
- name="link256_rdquo_________id_" id="link256_rdquo_________id_"></a>met,
- the changes he had seen, and, when I questioned him, of the escape of
- himself and his family from the Boxers.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the souls and bodies of these wretched, miserable, uncomprehending
- Chinese, who very likely, at the bottom of their hearts, pity the
- strangers because they were not born in the Flowery Land, these devoted
- people work—work and pray—day and night. The result is not
- great.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will not hear the truth. Their eyes are blind. They worship
- idols,” they told me of the majority. But they give kindliness, and
- in all probability, for it is seldom that faithful, honest kindliness
- fails in its purpose, they make a greater impression than they or I
- realise.
- </p>
- <p>
- True they believe firmly in the old Hebrew idea of a “jealous God,”
- but they themselves are more tender than the God they preach. For all of
- them, it seemed to me, life is hard, unless they have greater joy in the
- service than I, “a Greek” could understand, but for the older
- woman it must be hardest of all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My yoke is easy, My burden is light,” said the Master she
- followed, but the burden of this woman, away up in the mountains of
- Northern China, is by no means light. The community is so small, they do
- not belong to the China Inland Mission but call themselves “The
- Brethren,” the nearest white man is two days away hard travelling
- across the mountains, so that perforce the life is lonely. Day in and day
- out they must live here for seven years among an alien people; a people
- who come to them for aid and yet despise them. And because they would put
- no more stumbling-blocks in the way of <span class="pagenum">257</span><a
- name="link257" id="link257"></a>bringing the Chinese to listen to the
- message they bring, these missionaries conform, as much as they can, to
- Chinese custom. Very seldom does this woman walk abroad with her husband—it
- would not be the thing—women and men do not walk together in China.
- If she goes outside the missionary compound she must be accompanied by
- another woman, and she puts on some loose coat, because the Chinese would
- be shocked at any suggestion of the outline of a figure. Also she looks
- neither to the right nor the left, and does not appear to notice anything,
- because a well-behaved woman in China never looks about her. She
- considers, too, very carefully her goings, she would not walk through the
- town at the hour when the men are going about their business, the hour
- that I found the most interesting, and invariably chose, no boy may bring
- her tea to her bedroom—it would not be right—and she has none
- of the arrogance of the higher race who think what they do must be right
- and expect the natives of the land to fall into line. No, she conforms,
- always conforms to the uncomfortable customs of the Chinese, and when any
- man above the rank of the poorest comes to call upon her husband, she and
- the girl are hustled out of the way and are as invisible as if he kept a
- harem. It often occurred to me that the Chinese thought he did. Even in
- the church the women are screened off from the men, and if a man adheres
- to the customs of the country so closely in everything they can see, it is
- natural to suppose they will give him credit for adhering to them in all
- things. But they must think, at least, he has selected his womenkind with
- a view to their welfare, for the older woman has had <span class="pagenum">258</span><a
- name="link258" id="link258"></a>a little medical training, and simple
- cases of sickness she can deal with, while the German girl, as I have
- said, is a certified midwife. The other man too, though not a doctor, has
- some little knowledge of the more simple eye diseases.
- </p>
- <p>
- And they are grateful, the poor Chinese, for the sympathy they get from
- these kindly missionaries, who openly say they tend their poor bodies
- because they feel that so only can they get at their souls. They come to
- the little dispensary in crowds, come twenty miles over the mountains, and
- they bring there the diseases of a slum people, coughs and colds, pleurisy
- and pneumonia, internal complaints and the diseases of filth—here in
- the clean mountains—itch and the like. Many have bad eyes, many
- granulated lids, and there is many a case of hideous goitre. While I was
- there a man, old and poor, tramped one hundred miles across the mountains;
- he was blind, with frightfully granulated lids, and he had heard of the
- skill of the missionaries. There are also well-to-do people here, who
- sometimes seek aid from them, though as a rule, it is the lower class they
- come in contact with.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the ailments of the rich are different, I remember my missionary woman
- was called in to see a girl about twenty, the daughter of a high-class
- Manchu. The girl had hiccough. It came on regularly about four o'clock
- every afternoon, and continued, if I remember rightly, three or four
- hours. She was well and strong, she had everything the heart of a Chinese
- woman could desire, she was never required to do one stroke of work, but
- she was not married. The Manchus have fallen on evil times and find some
- difficulty in marrying their <span class="pagenum">259</span><a
- name="link259" id="link259"></a>daughters. So this girl, the daughter of
- well-to-do people, was necessary to no one, not even to herself, and the
- missionary, finding she spent the greater part of her time lying idly upon
- the k'ang, diagnosed hysteria, and prescribed a good brisk walk
- every day. The proud Manchu, who was her mother, looked at the woman she
- had called in to help her, scornfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My daughter,” she said drawing herself up to her full height,
- and the Manchus are tall women, “cannot walk in the street. It would
- not be seemly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The missionary looked at her a little troubled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At least,” she said, “she can walk in the courtyard and
- play with her brother's children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the girl looked at her with weary eyes. There was no excitement in
- playing with her brother's, children, and she could not see the good
- to be got out of walking aimlessly round the courtyard. Poor Manchu maid!
- What had she expected?
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not
- have done it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could do no good,” said the missionary sorrowfully, “and
- they would not listen to my message.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Chinese have their own remedies for many diseases, and some of them
- the missionaries told me were good, but many were too drastic, and many
- were wickedly dangerous. When an eye is red and bloodshot for instance,
- they will break a piece of crockery and pierce the eye with it, and in all
- probability the unfortunate loses his sight. No wonder they come miles and
- miles, however rough the way, to submit themselves to gentler treatment. I
- have known even women with bound feet toil twenty miles <span
- class="pagenum">260</span><a name="link260" id="link260"></a>to see them
- about some ailment. Of course their feet are not as badly bound as some,
- for there are many women in China who cannot walk at all. I talked with a
- man once who told me he had just been called upon to congratulate a man
- because he had married a wife who could not get across the room by
- herself. She, naturally, was a lady with slaves to wait upon her. These
- Chinese women of the mountains of the poorer classes—the Manchus do
- not bind their feet—must be able to move about a little, for there
- is a certain amount of work they must do.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A hundred thousand medical missionaries,” said this man,
- “are wanted in China, for the teeming population suffers from its
- ignorance, it suffers because it is packed so tightly together; the women
- suffer from the custom that presses so heavily, and it suffers from its
- own dirt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Up here at Jehol the suffering is apparently as bad as anywhere, and the
- dispensary is full with all the minor ailments that come within the range
- of the missionaries' simple skill, and all the cruel diseases that
- are quite beyond them, that they cannot touch, and they do their best in
- all pity and love, and yet think that they are doing a greater thing than
- binding up a man's wounds when they can induce him to come to their
- prayer-meetings, which go along, side by side, with the dispensary.
- </p>
- <p>
- I, a heathen and a “Greek,” question whether the Chinese ever
- receives Christianity. A Chinese gentleman, a graduate of Cambridge, once
- told me he did not think he ever did.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the Chinaman,” said he, he actually used the contemned
- word, “is a practical man, he receives all faiths. Some may be
- right, and when he thinks <span class="pagenum">261</span><a name="link261"
- id="link261"></a>he is dying, he will send for a priest of every faith he
- knows of to help him across the dark river. Who knows, some of them may
- chance to be right,” and he laughed. He himself was of the faith so
- many of us of this modern world have attained to, seeing the good in so
- many faiths, seeing the beauty and the pity of them and standing aside and
- crying: “Why all this? Whither are we bound? What can it matter
- whether this poor coolie believes in Christ, or Buddha, or the cold ethics
- of Confucius?” I said this to my missionary woman one day and she
- looked at me with horror in her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There will be a reaping some day,” she said. “Where
- will you be then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely I cannot be blamed for using the reasoning powers God has
- given.” But I am sure she thought my reasoning powers came from the
- devil, and if I hadn't been getting used to it I should have been
- made uncomfortable by being prayed for as one in outer darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is the worship of the ancestors that holds the Chinese, the man who
- gives up that, gives up all family ties and becomes practically an
- outcast. There may be a few genuine Christians, but in proportion to the
- money spent upon their conversion, their number must be very small. I saw
- the colporteur come into the compound one day, and they told me he was an
- earnest Christian. He might be, but again that doubt arose in my mind. If
- the receiving of Christianity ensures a livelihood, could you expect one
- of a nation, who will be made a eunuch for the same reason, to reject it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The missionaries had a hard time when first they came here. The place is
- inhabited by Manchus, <span class="pagenum">262</span><a
- name="link262_rdquo_________id_" id="link262_rdquo_________id_"></a>full
- of the pride of race, and they do not want the outsider. They use them, as
- they have effected a settlement, but they do not approve of their being
- there.
- </p>
- <p>
- As I and my saintly missionary walked down the street, she carefully
- avoiding a glance either to the right or the left, a little half-naked
- child at his mother's side looked at her and cried aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ta, ta,” and he said it vehemently again and again.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stopped, spoke to the mother, and evidently remonstrated, and the
- woman laughed and passed along on her high Manchu shoes without correcting
- the child.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked troubled. “What did he say?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Strike, strike! or some people might say 'kill, kill!'
- I said to the woman: 'What bad manners is this?'”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the woman had only laughed! After all her kindness and tenderness, all
- her consideration and care; I should have thought the very children would
- have worshipped the ground she walked upon.
- </p>
- <p>
- They are holding their own, they say. In the compound are a couple of
- Chinese women, the wives of their teachers or servants, and they have had
- to unbind their feet, a process almost as painful as the binding. One old
- woman could not unbind hers, they told me, because so long had they been
- bound the feet split when she attempted to walk upon them unbound, but so
- true a Christian is she, she puts her tiny feet inside big shoes. But to
- balance her, their amah, a Manchu, is still a heathen. After the years,
- the years they had been striving there, they could not find one who has
- embraced their faith to wait upon them.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0044" id="linkimage-0044"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0370.jpg" alt="0370 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0370.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- In truth it was a hard faith, morning, noon, and night, they prayed,
- morning, noon, and night, it seemed to me from the little meeting-house
- went up the sound of hymns and prayers, not even in Christian England,
- England that has held the faith for over a thousand years would so many
- services have been attended, could they expect it of the Chinese?
- </p>
- <p>
- In the evening, when the night fell, we sat in the compound and talked, I,
- who was cold and reasonable, and they who were enthusiasts, for to them
- had come the call, that mysterious crying for the unknown that comes to
- all peoples and all classes, and is called by such different names.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have given myself to the Lord for China.” And outside the
- house the watchman beat his gong, not to frighten off thieves, as I at
- first thought, but to keep away the devils who help the “stealer
- man,” for he cannot alone carry out his nefarious designs, the <i>wonks</i>,
- the scavenger dogs made the night hideous by their howling, and the
- soldiers, of whom the town was full, sang their new war-song—wild
- and barbaric.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not like it,” said she of the sad eyes and red lips,
- “I do not like it. It does not sound true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And I, who had not got to live there, did not like it either, but it was
- because it did sound to me true—it sounded fierce and merciless.
- What might not men, who sang like that, do?
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Chinese soldier is a baby,” said a Chinese <span
- class="pagenum">264</span><a name="link264" id="link264"></a>to me, but
- that is when he is among his own particular people at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chinese soldiers,” said another man, a foreigner, “are
- always robbers and banditti.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And there is truth in that last statement, possibly there is truth in
- both, for children, unguided and unbridled, with the strength and passions
- of men, are dangerous to let loose upon a community.
- </p>
- <p>
- We are beginning to look upon China as a land at peace. We talk about her
- “bloodless revolution,” yet even as I write these words I see,
- sitting opposite to me, my friend who was one of the rescue-party, the
- gallant nine, who rode post-haste to Hsi An Fu to rescue the missionaries
- cut off by the tide of the revolution, and I know the peace of China is
- not as the peace of a Western land.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hsi An Fu is situated in Shensi, roughly, about a fortnight's
- journey from the nearest railway, with walls that rival those of Peking,
- and like Peking, with a Manchu City walled off inside those walls. There
- on the 22nd October, 1911, the Revolutionaries, the apostles of progress,
- shut fast the gates of the inner city and butchered the Manchus within the
- walls. From house to house they went, and slew them all, old women on the
- brink of the grave and the tiny infant smiling in its mother's arms.
- Not one was spared. No cries for mercy were listened to. “Kill,
- kill!” was the cry that bright autumn Sunday; men, women, and
- children were slain, the streets ran with their blood, the reek of
- slaughter went up to heaven, and the Manchus were exterminated.
- </p>
- <p>
- The movement was not anti-foreign, but the plight of the missionaries well
- illustrates the danger every <span class="pagenum">265</span><a
- name="link265" id="link265"></a>foreigner faces in China. The bulk of the
- people are peaceful. Nowhere in the world, I suppose, is a more peaceful
- person to be found than the average Chinese peasant. He asks only to be
- let alone, but, unfortunately, he is not let alone. His rulers “squeeze”
- and oppress him, bands of robbers take toll of his pittance, and when an
- unpaid soldiery is let loose upon him, his plight is pitiable. It is
- certainly understandable, if not pardonable, that he in his turn, takes to
- pillage, and pillage leads to murder. He is only a puppet in the hands of
- others. One man alone may be kindly enough but the man who is one of a
- mob, is swayed by the passions of that mob, or the passions of its leader.
- So it was at Hsi An Fu. Party feeling ran high. There were really three
- parties, the Manchus, the Revolutionaries, and the Secret Society, the
- Elder Brother Society, who are always anti-foreign and who, here in Hsi An
- Fu, for whatever purpose they might originally have banded themselves
- together, were virtually a band of robbers, mainly intent on filling their
- own pockets. The Revolutionaries declared that the foreigners should be
- protected, but—and again the menace of China to the white man is
- felt—in the rush and tumult of the battle, many of their followers
- did not realise this. This was the time to wreak private vengeance, and it
- was fiercely taken advantage of. When thousands of helpless people, closer
- akin to the slayers than the foreigners, were being given pitilessly to
- the sword, who was likely to take much account of a handful of
- missionaries.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was outside the city in the south suburb a small school for the
- teaching of the Swedish missionaries' children, and the head of that
- school had, <span class="pagenum">266</span><a name="link266" id="link266"></a>some
- little time before, had a camera stolen. He reported it to the police, and
- being dissatisfied with the lax way the man at the head of the district
- took the matter up, went to his superior officer. Now in these disturbed
- times, the man who had “lost face” saw his way to vengeance,
- and, being in sympathy with the Revolutionaries, and knowing the exact
- hour of the outbreak, he ordered the villagers round the south suburb,
- every family, to send at least one man to help exterminate the foreigners.
- “It was an order,” and the villagers responded. The school was
- the first place attacked, for not only did this man seek vengeance, but
- the humble possessions of the missionaries seemed to the poorer Chinese to
- be wealth well worth looting. Therefore that Sunday at midnight a mob
- attacked the school premises. The missionaries, Mr and Mrs Beckman and Mr
- Watne, the tutor, were helpless before the crowd, and hid in a tool-house,
- but they were discovered and ran out, making for a high wall that
- surrounded the compound. Mr Watne got astride of this and handed over Mr
- Beckman's eldest daughter, a tall girl of twelve, but, before he
- could get the other children, the crowd rushed them, and he was tumbled
- over the wall, making his escape with the girl to another village some way
- off while the mob swept over the rest, scattering them far and wide. Mr
- Beckman, a particularly tall, stalwart man, considerably over six feet
- high, had his youngest child, a baby, in his arms, and the people gave way
- before him, closing in on the unfortunates who were following. It is
- impossible for an outsider to tell the tale of that massacre, for massacre
- it was, the people falling upon and doing to death the unfortunate woman
- and the children who were clustering round her. The darkness was filled
- with the fierce shouts of the murderers, and every now and again they were
- broken in upon by the terrified wail of a child butchered with none to
- help.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ta, ta,” cried the people, and they struck mercilessly, with
- spades and reaping hooks and knives, the weak and helpless, and dodged out
- of the way of the great, strong man who could fight a little for his life
- and the lives of those dear to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman and the children were slain and at last he was hunted, with the
- little girl still in his arms, into a deep pond of water outside the
- suburb. The mite was only three years old, and the distracted father, wild
- with anxiety for his wife and other children, had to soothe the little one
- and exhort her to be quiet and not to cry, for the pursuers were lighting
- fires round the pond to find them. They lighted three, and the fires
- probably defeated their own end, for the fugitive managed to keep out of
- the glare, and the leaping flames deepened the darkness around. The baby
- sheltered in her father's arms, and in spite of the cold, never even
- whimpered, and the water was so deep the mob dared not venture in. Only a
- man of extraordinary height could have so saved himself. Hour after hour
- of the bitter cold autumn night passed and the mob dispersed a little. The
- lust for killing was not so great in the keen Hours of the early morning.
- Then the first silver streaks, heralding the rising of the moon, appeared
- in the eastern sky and the distracted man made his way softly to a bank at
- one side, and reaching up, again only a tall man could have done it, laid
- his little girl there. But the child who had been so good in the icy water
- while she was against his breast began to fret when the keen morning air
- blew through her sodden clothes and she could not feel her father's
- arms round her, and he had to take her back and soothe her. But at last he
- persuaded her to lie still till he got softly out of the water, and crept
- round to her. He was not followed, the pursuit was slackening more and
- more, and, keeping in the shadows, he made his way to the missionaries in
- the western suburb. He thought that all but he and his little girl had
- perished, and sad to say they did not know of the two who were sheltering
- in a village some miles away in the country. Here, nearly twelve hours
- later, the pursuers sought them out and stoned them to death.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meanwhile rumours of what was happening in the southern suburb reached the
- missionaries in the eastern suburb, and they, taking counsel with their
- native helpers, divided themselves into three parties, and set out to take
- refuge in some more distant villages where the people were reputed
- Christians. They had gone but a little way, when the carts of two of the
- parties were overtaken by a mob, who handled them somewhat roughly, took
- all their humble possessions, and drove them back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kill, kill!” cried the pointing people, as the little
- helpless company, escorted by the shouting, threatening mob passed, and
- even those who did not directly threaten, seemed to have no hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They go to their deaths,” they said, looking at them
- curiously as men look upon other men about to die.
- </p>
- <p>
- The missionaries themselves had small hope of their lives. When they
- reached the first mission-<span class="pagenum">269</span><a
- name="link269_rdquo_________id_" id="link269_rdquo_________id_"></a>house
- they were roughly thrust into a room and there guarded, and they only
- wondered why death did not come swiftly and cut short the agony of
- waiting.
- </p>
- <p>
- The third party that set out from that suburb consisted of the Rev. Donald
- Smith, his wife, and some schoolgirls they were escorting back to their
- homes, as he considered, in these troublous times, they would be safer
- with their own people than in the mission school. They went due east, and
- had not gone three miles when they were set upon. The girls fled in all
- directions, but the attackers only molested the foreigner and his wife. He
- endeavoured to defend her, but they beat him so severely that both his
- arms were broken, and they were both left for dead by the wayside. Here
- they were found by some friendly, kindly villagers—the average
- Chinaman is kindly—who, when the roughs were gone, came to their
- rescue, and took them back to the eastern suburb, where the other
- missionaries had spent a terrible two hours, momentarily expecting the mob
- to rush in and kill them.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the Chinese are a cautious people, curious in their respect for
- precedent. What was to be done with these foreigners. Sometimes the
- foreigners had been slain, but then again, quite as often, they had been
- guarded and kept safely. There was no getting into the city. The gates
- were fast locked and were kept shut for days, but someone—very
- probably a well-wisher to the missionaries—went to the wall and
- shouted up to know what was the order about foreigners? Were they to kill
- them or were they to protect them? Back came the response, the order was,
- the foreigners were to be protected, and when word of this was brought
- back to the mission station, they were not only released, but the property
- of which they had been robbed was returned to them. For those who had
- looted kept it intact till they saw which way the wind blew.
- </p>
- <p>
- And by the time the city gates were opened and order was restored, it was
- understood, by the proclamation of the New Republic, that all foreigners
- were to be protected.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the case of the missionaries in Hsi An Fu graphically illustrates the
- dangers every foreigner, missionary, or the missionary's <i>bête
- noire</i>, the ubiquitous cigarette-selling British American Tobacco man,
- runs in China, where the civilisation, the long-established civilisation
- is that of Nineveh or Babylon, or ancient Egypt. Not that the foreigner
- runs any greater risk than the native of the country, sometimes he runs
- less, because, even into the far interior, a glimmering of the vengeance
- the Christian nations take for their martyred brothers has penetrated; but
- life in China is, as it was in Nineveh or Babylon, not nearly as sacred as
- it is in the West. The life of a poor man, one of the luckless
- proletariat, is of small account to anyone. A disbanded and unpaid
- soldiery are for ever a menace, and the difference between the disciplined
- soldier and the unlicensed bandit is very, very small. One week a regiment
- of soldiers clamouring for their pay, the next a band of robbers hiding in
- the hills, their methods ruthless, for their hand is against every man's
- and every man's hand is against them. They live by the sword, as
- they perish by the sword, and when the tide of lawlessness reaches a
- certain height, white man and yellow alike suffer, but we take count only
- of the sufferings of our own people. <span class="pagenum">271</span><a
- name="link271" id="link271"></a>Sitting in the missionary compound up at
- Jehol in the evening, I thought of these things and looked into the eyes
- that looked into mine, the kind, brown eyes, and I wondered did she
- remember, did she think of them, too. I looked again, and I knew she
- remembered, that ever with her was the thought how cut off they were from
- the rest of the world, and I read there, though she never murmured, fear.
- For Jehol has its traditions of sacrifice and martyrdom too. Only six
- miles away at a village on the Lanho, in the year of the Boxer trouble,
- they had slowly buried the Catholic priest alive. All the long hot summer's
- day they had kept him tied to a post, slowly, to prolong his agony,
- heaping up the earth around him. The day was hot, and he begged for water
- as the long, weary, hopeless hours dragged themselves away. And some of
- them had loved him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might,” said a man looking on, “give him a drink,
- even if you do kill him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they turned on him even as men might have done in the days of the
- Inquisition:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you say any more, we will bury you beside him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And so he died a cruel death, a martyr, for there was none to help, and
- when the Western nations exacted retribution, they made the people put up
- a cross, the symbol of his faith, over the grave. And then, because they
- had been forced to do it, every villager who passed that monument to show
- his contempt for the foreigner and all his works cast a stone, till now
- shape and inscription have both gone, and the passer-by cannot tell what
- is that rough rock, jagged and unshapely.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet here among these selfsame people, four and a half days' hard
- journey from Peking, far beyond all hope of help from the foreign
- soldiery, dwell these Christian missionaries. “To the Greeks,
- foolishness.” But could they better demonstrate the strength of
- their faith?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV—A VISIT TO THE TARTAR GENERAL
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">273</span><a name="link273" id="link273"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Hsiung Hsi Ling, Premier of China—Preparations for a call—A
- cart of State—An elderly mule—Waiting in the gate—The
- yam en—Mr Wu, the secretary—“Hallo, Missus!”—The
- power of a Chinese General—“Plenty robber, too much war”—Ceremonial
- farewell—A cultivated gentleman—Back to past ages for the
- night.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>p in Jehol they
- called the General commanding the three thousand odd troops the Tartar
- General, why I do not know, but it seems it is the title by which he is
- commonly known among the country people. He was Hsiung Hsi Ling, the man
- who is now Premier of China, and to him I brought letters of introduction
- so that I might be admitted to the Imperial Palace and Park and be treated
- as a person of consequence, otherwise I imagine a foreigner and a woman at
- that would have but small chance of respect in China. The Chinese letters
- lifted me to the rank of the literati, which must have been rather
- surprising to the Chinese, and these in English were such that I felt I
- must bear myself so as to live up to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- The yamen was about five minutes' walk from the mission station, and
- in my ignorance I had thought I would stroll up some morning when I had
- recovered from the fatigues of the journey, but the missionaries, <span
- class="pagenum">274</span><a name="link274" id="link274"></a>steeped in
- the lore of Chinese etiquette, declared such a proceeding was not
- suitable. A person of consequence, such as my letters proclaimed me, must
- bear herself more becomingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Write and ask if ten o'clock on Tuesday morning will be a
- suitable time for you to call on the General, and send your letters by
- your servant. I dare say there will be somebody who can read them, though
- I am sure there will be nobody who can write an answer,” said the
- missionary. “The General's English-speaking secretary is away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Accordingly I sent off Tuan, who was more than sure that he was equal to
- the task, and he returned without a letter, as the missionary had
- prophesied, but saying: “She say all right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now you must have a cart,” said that missionary who was
- more worldly wise than I expected an enthusiast to be, “and don't
- get down till the yamen gates are opened. It would never do to wait with
- the servants in the gate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- How Eastern it sounded! And then his wife came and superintended my
- toilet. The weather was warm, not to say hot, and I had thought a black
- and white muslin a most fitting and suitable array. But she was horrified
- at the effect. It was made in the mode of 1913, and did not suggest, as
- the long Manchu robes do, that I was built like a pyramid, broadest at the
- base.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Haven't you got a coat to put over you,” said she
- looking round, and she seized my burberry which was the only thing in the
- shape of a wrap I had with me. Chinese ideas of propriety evidently
- influenced her very strongly.
- </p>
- <p>
- I declined to wear a burberry on a hot day late in <span class="pagenum">275</span><a
- name="link275" id="link275"></a>May, though all the Chinese Empire were
- shocked and horrified at my impropriety, but I sought round and found a
- lace veil which, draped over me, was a little suggestive of a bridal
- festivity, but apparently satisfied all conditions, and then I went out to
- mount into that abomination—a Peking cart. The Peking cart that is
- used for visiting has a little trestle carried over the back end of the
- shafts, which is taken down when the occupant wishes to mount and
- dismount, so I got into the seat of honour, the most uncomfortable seat
- well under the tilt, and Tuan, glorious in a long black silk brocade robe,
- his queue newly oiled and plaited, and a big straw hat upon his head,
- climbed on to the tail of the shaft, and the carter, dressed in the
- ordinary blue of his class, with the ordinary rag over his head to keep
- off the dust, walked beside the most venerable white mule I have ever come
- across. I don't know whether aged animals are held in respect in
- China, I'm afraid not. The poor old thing had great deep hollows
- over his eyes. I suspect Tuan had got him cheap, because the cart was
- respectable, and he had been good once—of course he would never have
- let me lose face—and then he made me pay full price, a whole
- fivepence I think it came to.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's a very old mule, Tuan,” I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he assented, “very old, she forty,” which
- was certainly more than I had reckoned him. I afterwards came to the
- conclusion he meant fourteen.
- </p>
- <p>
- What Tuan was there for, I certainly don't know, except to carry my
- card-case, which I was perfectly capable of carrying myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- We went out into the dusty, mud-coloured street, and along between
- mud-coloured walls of the dullest, most uninteresting description, and
- presently we arrived at the yamen gates, and here it was evident that
- Tuan, who had been so important all across the mountains, was now quite
- out of his depth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cart no can go,” said he. “Missie get out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was prepared for that. “No,” I said very important for once
- in my life, “I wait till someone comes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The yamen entrance was divided into three, as all Chinese entrances seem
- to be, and over it were curved tiled roofs with a little colouring, faded
- and shabby, about them; all of it was badly in need of repair, and on the
- fast-closed gates in the middle were representations of some demon
- apparently in a fit, but his aspect was a little spoiled by the want of a
- fresh coat of paint. The two little gates at either side were open, and
- here clustered Chinese soldiers in khaki, and men in civilian dress of
- blue cotton, and all stared at the foreign woman who was not a missionary,
- in the cart; that is the rude ones stared, and the polite ones looked
- uncomfortably out of the corners of their eyes. A Chinaman's
- politeness in this respect always ends by making me uncomfortable. A good,
- downright stare that says openly: “I am taking you in with all my
- eyes,” I can stand, but the man who looks away and down and out of
- the corners of his eyes gets on my nerves in no time.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, this time I had not long to wait. After a minute or two out came
- a messenger, a Chinese of the better class, for he was dressed in a bright
- blue silk coat and petticoats, with a black sleeveless jacket over it, and
- the gates at his command, to my boy's immense astonishment, opened,
- and my cart rumbled into the first courtyard. We went on into a second—bare,
- ugly courtyards they were, without a flower or a tree or any green thing
- to rest the eye upon—and then I got down as there came to meet me a
- small bare-headed man without a queue, and his thick black hair apparently
- cut with a saw and done with a fork. He wore an ill-fitting suit of
- foreign clothes, and about his neck, instead of a collar, one of those
- knitted wraps an Englishwoman puts inside her coat when the weather is
- cold. On his feet were the white socks and heelless slippers of the
- Chinese. Instead of the dignified greeting the first man had given me he
- remarked genially, and offhandedly: “Hallo, Missus!” and he
- did it with a certain confidence, as if he really would show the numerous
- bystanders that he knew how to receive a lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0045" id="linkimage-0045"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0386.jpg" alt="0386 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0386.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0046" id="linkimage-0046"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0387.jpg" alt="0387 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0387.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Through one shabby courtyard after another, all guarded by soldiers in
- khaki, he led me to the presence of the Tartar General, Hsiung Hsi Ling,
- the great man who had been Minister of Finance and who now held military
- command over the whole of that part of China, independent even of the
- Viceroy of the Province of Chihli. Those who told me made a great point of
- that independence; but in China it seems that a General with troops at his
- command always is independent, not only of the Viceroy of the Province in
- which he is stationed, but of anyone else in authority. The President
- himself would treat him with great respect so long as he had troops at his
- back. He is, in fact, entirely independent. If the central authorities
- give him money to pay his troops, well and good, he holds himself at their
- command, if they do not, then he is quite likely to sympathise with his
- men, and become not only a <span class="pagenum">278</span><a
- name="link278" id="link278"></a>danger to the community among whom he is
- stationed, but to the Government as well. It is hardly likely yet in
- China, that a General popular with his troops can be degraded or
- dismissed. He can only be got rid of by offering him something better.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here I found none of the pomp and magnificence I had expected to find
- about an all-powerful Oriental. We went into a room floored with stone,
- after the Chinese fashion, and furnished with a couple of chairs, and
- through that into a plain, smallish room, with the usual window of dainty
- lattice-work covered with white paper. All down the centre of it ran a
- table like a great dining-table, covered, as if to emphasise the likeness,
- with a white cloth. I felt as if I had come in at an inopportune moment,
- before the table had been cleared away. Seated at this table, with his
- back to the window, was the General. He rose as I entered and came
- forward, kindly and considerately, to meet me—a man of middle
- height, younger than I expected, for he hardly looked forty. There was not
- a thread of white in his coal-black hair, but he had some hair on his face—a
- moustache and the scanty beard that is all the Chinese can produce—so
- he was evidently of ripe years, well past middle age. He wore a uniform of
- khaki, as simple and devoid of ornament as that of one of his own
- soldiers; his thick black hair was cut short and he had a clever, kindly
- face. Though he could understand no English, he looked at the foreign
- woman pleasantly, and as if he were glad to see her. He went back to his
- chair, and I was seated at his right hand, while his secretary, and very
- inadequate interpreter, sat on his left. An attendant, looking like an
- ordinary coolie, brought in tea in three cups with handles and saucers,
- foreign fashion, and the interview began.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have been told that a grave and unsmiling demeanour is the proper thing
- to bring to a Chinese interview; and if so I failed lamentably to come up
- to the correct standard. But since the interpreter knew even less English
- than Tuan, whom I had left outside, there was really little else to do but
- smile and look pleasant. My host certainly smiled many times. I
- complimented him on the beauty of his country and then I asked permission,
- that is to say his protection, to go on to Lamamiao, or as it is called on
- the maps, Dolnor. Goodness knows why I asked. It would have meant two or
- three weeks at least in that awful Peking cart, but I appear to be so
- constituted that, when I am within range of a place, it would seem like
- missing my opportunities not to try and get there. I don't know what
- there is to see at Dolnor, but it is up on the Mongolian plateau, and
- there is a big lamaserie there and a living Buddha, that is an incarnation
- of the Buddha. The one who is there at present may be very holy as to one
- part of him, but the earthly part requires plenty of drink, I am told, and
- the caresses of many women to make this world tolerable. However, I was
- not to see him. The General and his secretary might not have understood
- much, but they did understand what I wanted then, and they were emphatic
- that I could not go. The General looked at his secretary and then at me,
- and explained at length, and he must have thought that the English
- language was remarkable for its brevity, for I was curtly informed:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No can go. Plenty robber. Too much war.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I had been threatened with robbers before, but not by an important
- General, and this time I felt I had better take heed, besides there was
- always the consolatory thought that, if I did not go, I need not ride any
- more in a Peking cart. Then I asked permission to visit the Palace and
- Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No can do one time,” said the interpreter. “How many
- day you want go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Somehow, though I had come all this way to see it, I have a rooted
- objection to sightseeing. To get a ticket to go into a place takes away
- the charm; still as I was about it, I thought I would go as often as I
- could, so I said I would like to go on five days. The missionaries, though
- they had been here for six years, had never yet set foot inside that Park;
- to go required a permit from the authorities, and it was their idea to ask
- nothing from those authorities that they could possibly avoid. They would
- certainly have thought it wicked to ask for anything for their own
- pleasure. I did not suffer from any such ideas. As the General was bent on
- being civil to me I thought I might as well say I would like to take my
- friends in, and as we could not go without proper attendants—I who
- come from a country where I have blacked my own boots, cooked the family
- dinner, and ironed my husband's shirts many a time—I asked for
- and got about thirty tickets. I've got some of them still. Then I
- drank a cup of very excellent tea, and before five minutes were up rose
- and made my adieux. Brevity, I had been instructed, was the soul of
- courtesy in a Chinese interview.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Tartar General saw me through two doors, which I believe was a high
- honour, and due to my having been introduced as a learned doctor. The
- correct thing is to protest all the while and beg your host not to come
- any farther, but I am really too Western in my ideas and it seems silly.
- Either he wants to come, or he doesn't, in any case what does it
- matter, and so I fear me, I was not vehement enough in my protestations of
- unworthiness. The secretary conducted me to my cart, where a subdued and
- awed servant awaited my arrival with a new and exalted idea of his Missie's
- importance. Tuan had magnified my importance, I fancy, for his own sake.
- He was serving a woman—yes, but she was a rich, generous, and
- important woman, but he had never, at the bottom of his heart, really
- dreamt that she could go through the yamen gate in a cart, that she could
- sit down beside the Tartar General, that she could get many tickets to go
- inside grounds forbidden to all the Chinese round about. I have not the
- slightest doubt all the details of the interview reached him before I came
- out, brief as my visit had been, and he helped me into my cart with, I
- felt, more deference and less make-believe than was usual. It made me
- smile a little to myself, but I think it was Tuan who really got most
- satisfaction out of that visit, though he had not seen the great man.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0047" id="linkimage-0047"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0393.jpg" alt="0393 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0393.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- I had been comparing China to Babylon. I came away from the General's
- presence with the feeling that a Babylonish gentleman was truly charming—just
- like a finished product of my own time. Probably he was. But there were
- other sides to Babylon, as I was reminded that night. It is well to know
- all sides. When I had said good night and gone to bed, there burst on my
- ears a loud beating of gongs, and the weird war-song I had found so <span
- class="pagenum">282</span><a name="link282" id="link282"></a>haunting the
- night before. The soldiers were stimulating their courage for the fighting
- in Mongolia. I wonder if the Babylonish soldiery sang so before they
- marched down upon Jerusalem. Then there came the watchman's gong,
- and the howl of the <i>wonks</i> that prowled about the town. I was back
- in past ages, and as I lay there in the darkness I wondered how I had ever
- had the temerity even to contemplate a visit to Lamamiao, and whether I
- would ever have the courage necessary to get back to Peking by myself.
- Luckily the fears of the dark are generally dispersed by the morning
- sunlight. At least they are with me, or I should never dare go travelling
- in remote places at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI—A PLEASURE-GROUND OF THE MANCHUS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">283</span><a name="link283" id="link283"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>A return call—Ceremonies—A dog-robbing suit—Difficulties
- of conversation—A treat for the amah—The British Ambassador at
- Jehol in the eighteenth century—The last stages of decrepitude—Glories
- of the park—The bronze temple—A flippant young Chinese
- gentleman—“Ladies' Temple”—Desolation and
- dirt and ruin—“Happiness Hall”—Examining a
- barbarian.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next day the
- secretary returned my call, bringing with him the General's card,
- and an apology for not coming himself. He was so very busy. I never
- expected him to come, and don't suppose he ever really intended to,
- but it was true Chinese politeness to put it that way.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr Wu had sent to say he was coming to call upon me, and it surprised me
- to see the commotion such a little thing occasioned in the mission house.
- I felt they were really being awfully good to my guest, but, without
- taking away one jot from their kindliness, I think, too, they were very
- glad to be brought into friendly relations with the yamen, and I was very
- glad indeed to think that I, who was in outer darkness from their point of
- view, was able to do this little thing for them. Cakes were made, the best
- tea got out, the table set, and the boy, who generally waited upon us
- humbler folk in a little short jacket and trousers caught in at the
- ankles, was put into the long coat, <span class="pagenum">284</span><a
- name="link284" id="link284"></a>or petticoat, whichever you are pleased to
- call it, that a well-dressed Chinese servant always wears. It seems it is
- not the correct thing for him to wait upon one in a little short jacket.
- And then when all was ready, and the small great man was announced, to my
- surprise the other two women were hustled out of sight, and I and the
- missionary received him alone. Why, I do not know even now. I sat on a
- high chair, and so did Mr Wu, and the missionary gave us both tea and
- cakes, handing everything with both hands; that I believe is the correct
- Chinese way of doing honour to your guest. I received it as a matter of
- course, said “Thank you,” or “Please don't bother,”
- whichever occurred to me, but Mr Wu was loud in his protestations, in both
- Chinese and English, and I fancy the whole interview—unless I
- spoiled it—was conducted in a manner which reflected infinite credit
- upon the missionary's knowledge of Chinese customs and the secretary's
- best manners. They certainly were very elaborate. This day he had on what
- one of my naval brothers was wont to designate a dog-robbing suit, though
- I don't know that he ever went out dog-robbing, and I am quite sure
- the young Chinese gentleman never did, also his hair was neatly parted in
- the middle and plastered down on each side, and with a high collar and tie
- on, he looked really as uncomfortable and <i>outré</i> as it was possible
- to look. He had brought me the tickets, and implored me if I wanted
- anything else to ask for it. The interview was a trial to me. It is all
- very well to be prepared to smile, but smiles don't really fill up
- more than a minute or two, and what on earth to say during the rest of the
- time, troubled me. In all the wide world, and I felt it acutely, we had
- absolutely nothing in common save those tickets, and my heart sank when he
- told me he would do himself the honour of showing me over the palace
- himself. If I felt half an hour with him, for all my gratitude for his
- kindliness, an intolerable burden, what on earth should I feel the
- livelong day. One piece of news he did tell us, there had been fighting in
- Mongolia, severe fighting, and many men had been killed, but when we came
- to ask which side had won he said he did not know, and then of course we
- guessed the Chinese had suffered a reverse, for if the telegraph could
- tell any details at all, it was sure to have told the all-important one
- which side was the conqueror. At last, when it seemed that hour had been
- interminable, the young man rose, and the farewells began.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0049" id="linkimage-0049"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0399.jpg" alt="0399 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0399.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Those Chinese farewells! Chinese etiquette is enough to cure the most
- enthusiastic believer in form and ceremony, to reduce him to the belief
- that a simple statement of fact, a “Yea, yea,” and “Nay,
- nay,” are amply sufficient. I suppose all this form and ceremony,
- this useless form and ceremony, comes from the over-civilisation of China.
- If ever in the future I am inclined to cavil at abrupt modern manners, I
- shall think of that young man protesting that the missionary must not come
- to the gate with him, when all the while he knew he would have been deeply
- offended if he had not. I fear lest I may now swing over to the other side
- and say that a rude abruptness is a sign of life, so much better does it
- seem to me than the long elaborate and meaningless politeness that hampers
- one so much.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he had gone we discussed the question of a visit to the Imperial
- Park, and then I found that <span class="pagenum">286</span><a
- name="link286" id="link286"></a>there were many things in the way of my
- entertaining my hosts, prayer meetings, dispensary afternoons, visits, and
- that in any case, only the women would accompany me, whether that was
- really because the men were busy, or because it was not Chinese etiquette
- for men and women to amuse themselves together I do not know, but I
- strongly suspect the latter had something to do with it. For of course
- what the foreigners did, more especially the new foreign woman, who was
- not a missionary, was a matter of common talk in all the district round.
- Then my hostess put it to me, as I had plenty of tickets and to spare,
- would I take their amah. She was most anxious to go. She had been in
- service with a Manchu family, and once when they were going she had been
- ill, and once it had rained so that she had never gone, and she was
- getting an old woman and feared her chances were dwindling sadly.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was such a little thing to want, and yet I don't know. When I
- looked at the hideous town, for Cheng Teh Fu remains in my mind as the
- ugliest Chinese town I have ever seen it had not the charm and fascination
- that walls give, when I thought of the delights that lay hidden behind the
- fifteen miles of high wall that surround the Park, the delights that are
- for so very, very few, I did not wonder that the Manchu woman, who already
- counted herself old, she was forty-five, should have been very anxious to
- go inside. And when I told her I would take her, she immediately begged
- leave to go away and put on her best clothes. I couldn't see any
- difference between her best clothes and her everyday clothes, but I could
- see she had a small shaven grandchild in attendance, who was immediately
- put on to carry my umbrella. I suppose she hoped to smuggle him in to see
- the delights, and I said nothing, for I had plenty of tickets.
- </p>
- <p>
- Curiously enough, while most of China has been a sealed book, the Hunting
- Palace—it is really better described as a Lodge—of the Manchus
- has been known to the English for one hundred and twenty years, for it was
- here that, on the 9th September, 1793, the Emperor Ch'ien Lung
- received Lord Macartney, the first British Ambassador to China. I did not
- come straight from Peking, but I know that the road, by valley and
- mountain pass, is reckoned very bad indeed, and very few people as yet
- take the trouble to go to Jehol. It is four and a half days' hard
- travelling now, but Lord Macartney took seven, and it is a curious
- commentary upon the state of the roads in the British Isles in those days
- that though his chronicler, Sir George Staunton, writing of the journey,
- complains a little of the roads, and mentions that Lord Macartney's
- carriage, which he had brought out from England with him, had generally to
- be dragged along empty, while the “Embassador” himself rode in
- a palankeen, he does not make much moan about them; no one reading his
- account would think they were so appalling as they must have been, for I
- cannot think they have deteriorated much since those days. When I looked
- at the streets of Cheng Teh Fu, banks, dust heaps, great holes, stones, I
- tried to imagine the British “Embassador's” coach being
- dragged across them, twisting round corners, balancing on sidings, up to
- the axles in dust, or perhaps mud, for it was September and the crowd
- looking on at the lord from the far islands of the sea, who was bringing
- tribute to the Emperor of China, <span class="pagenum">288</span><a
- name="link288" id="link288"></a>for I am afraid it is hardly likely they
- believed he was doing anything else.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another thing Sir George Staunton notes is the scarcity of timber. “The
- circumjacent hills,” he writes, “appeared to have been once
- well planted with trees; but those few which remained were stunted, and
- timber has become very scarce. No young plantations had been made to
- supply the old ones cut down.” Now the hills round are absolutely
- bare, there is not a sign that ever a tree has grown upon them, and I
- should not have believed they had, had it not been for Sir George Staunton's
- account.
- </p>
- <p>
- And on the other side of this ugly town, among these desolate hills, is
- set a wall, a wall about twenty feet high, with a broad pathway on the
- top, along which the guards might walk. And the wall has been built with
- discretion. Not only was it to keep out all but the elect, but it was to
- block effectually all view of what went on inside. Not even from the
- neighbouring hills is it possible to look into that Park. Its delights
- were only for the Son of Heaven and those who ministered to his
- well-being.
- </p>
- <p>
- We went along a sordid, dusty street to the principal gate, a shabby and
- forlorn-looking gate, and the watch-tower over it was crumbling to decay,
- and we entered the courtyard, a forlorn and desolate courtyard, where the
- paving-stones were broken, and the grass and weeds were coming up between
- the cracks. Then there was a long pathway with a broken pavement in the
- middle, a pavement so characteristic of China that wherever I chance to
- see such I shall think of her golden sunshine and bright skies. On either
- side of that pathway were high walls over which were peeping the tiled
- roofs of <span class="pagenum">289</span><a name="link289" id="link289"></a>buildings,
- until at last after fully five minutes' walk, after passing through
- many gates, all in various stages of decay, we came to a place where the
- path ended with two doors to the right and left. This, the palace of an
- Emperor; it seemed impossible to believe it. I wondered if the woman who
- had wanted for so many years to see it was disappointed. She was
- supporting my elbow, true Chinese fashion, and Tuan, having succeeded in
- passing on my camera to the usual ragged follower, was on the other side,
- as if I were in the last stages of decrepitude. At first this exceeding
- attention used to irritate me, but by this time I had resigned myself to
- my fate. I was more concerned at the shabbiness and sordidness of
- everything. Of course no one save the servants, who keep the place, live
- in the grounds now, no one has lived there for over fifty years, not since
- 1860, when the reigning Emperor fled there from the Allies who sacked
- Peking, and died there. Perhaps it was for that reason that his secondary
- wife, the great Dowager-Empress whom all the world knew, disliked the
- place, and went there no more. I remembered that, as I stood between those
- two doors and wondered which I should go through first. The one to the
- left led to some courtyards surrounded by low, one-storied buildings—Emperor's
- first bedroom—said Tuan, and possibly he was right. I turned to the
- door on the right and as it opened I knew that these Manchu
- pleasure-grounds had been planned, as so many things Chinese are planned,
- nobly. I stepped out on to a plateau and there, there in this treeless
- China, was a grove of firs and pines. The blue sky peeped through the
- branches, the sunshine dappled the ground with shadow and light, and the
- wind <span class="pagenum">290</span><a name="link290" id="link290"></a>murmured
- softly among the evergreen foliage. Here was coolness and delight. Beyond
- the plateau lay a long grassy valley surrounded by softly rounded,
- tree-clad hills, and right at the bottom of the valley was a lake with
- winding shores, a lake covered with lotus lilies, with islands on it, with
- bridges and buildings, picturesque as only the ideal Chinese buildings can
- be picturesque. It may have been created by art, and at least art must
- have entered to some great extent into the making of the beauty, but there
- is no trace of it. My followers looked at the scene and looked at me, as
- much as to say this was something belonging to them they were showing me,
- and they hoped I was appreciating it properly. It might have been the
- Manchu woman's very own. In truth I could only look and wonder, lost
- in admiration. What could the heart of man want more for the glorious
- summertime, the brief, hot summer of Northern China?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0050" id="linkimage-0050"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0405.jpg" alt="0405 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0405.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The first glance was a surprise, and the farther I went in the more my
- wonder grew. There were paved pathways, but they were not aggressively
- paved, the rough grey stones had just been sunk in the grass. They were
- broken a little now, and they toned naturally with the rural surroundings.
- There were lovely bridges bridging ravines, and here, too, was not one
- stone too many, nothing to suggest the artificial, that so often spoils
- the rural scene made to conform to the wants of the luxurious. Of course,
- besides the pavement, other things had fallen into disrepair, there were
- steps down hill-sides that were well-nigh hopeless for purposes of ascent
- and descent, and there were temples where indeed the gods were forlorn and
- forgotten. Gigantic gods they were <span class="pagenum">291</span><a
- name="link291" id="link291"></a>with fearsome faces and painted in
- gorgeous colours, but they were all dusty and dirty. There was one temple
- all of bronze, but it was rusted and shabby. There were shrines in it set
- with agate and jasper, mother-of-pearl and jade, and what looked like
- great rubies, but, very likely, were only garnets. Shabby, forlorn,
- forgotten was the temple, the steps that led up to it were broken and
- almost unusable, the courtyards were neglected, the tiles of the roof
- grass-grown, the woodwork of the doors perished, the walls falling, but
- the situation on the hill-side, embosomed in pines, with the beautiful
- lake at its feet and the wide vista of hills beyond, was superb, eternal.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the day the missionaries arranged to come we made a picnic to this
- temple, I, and the two missionary women and our attendants, my servant,
- and their boy and the Manchu amah and all the heterogeneous! following my
- boy always collected, and as we sat there at our open-air tiffin the gates
- were pushed open and in came the little Chinese gentleman in his badly
- fitting foreign clothes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hallo, Missus,” he said, and I forgot for a moment all the
- wonders that his people had done, that were here before my eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had come to fulfil his promise and show me round.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a flippant young gentleman impatient of the past, just as I have
- seen young men of his age, in Western lands. He was only a boy, after all,
- and he threw stones at the birds just as a younger boy might have done in
- England. Only I wished he wouldn't. It was nice to think the birds
- had sanctuary here, but I suppose it was a way of letting off steam, since
- he could not talk very easily to the <span class="pagenum">292</span><a
- name="link292" id="link292"></a>foreign woman. A small red squirrel,
- sitting up deeply engaged with a nut from one of the fir-trees, roused him
- to wild excitement, and he shouted and yelled to a couple of dignified,
- petticoated Chinamen on the other side of the lake, in a way that quite
- upset my ideas of Chinese propriety; in fact, he was the General's
- secretary, showing off just as I have seen boys in other lands show off.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took us to the women's temple, since we were interested in
- temples, a temple away on the other side of the lake, down in a hollow of
- the hills, hidden away as woman has been hidden away in China for
- immemorial ages.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies' temple,” said our cicerone with a wave of his
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- And it, too, is falling into decay, the dusty gods, ranged round the
- sacred place, remind one of the contents of a lumber-room, and “Forgotten,
- forgotten,” is written large all over it. The forlorn old man in
- shabby blue, with a tiny little queue and a dirty face who keeps it, looks
- as if he too had been forgotten, and was grateful for a twenty-cent <i>cumshaw</i>.
- Only the courtyard with the soft breeze rustling in the pine-trees and
- ringing the musical bells that hung from the eaves was peaceful in the
- afternoon sunshine, with a charm of its own.
- </p>
- <p>
- What women have come and prayed here? The proud Manchu Empress whom her
- lord had neglected, the Chinese concubine who longed to find favour in his
- eyes?
- </p>
- <p>
- All over this pleasure-ground are buildings, but so deftly placed they
- never for one moment interfere with the charm of the countryside. There is
- a little temple on the Golden Mountain where the Jehol River takes its
- rise in a spring; on another hill is a little look-out place or tea pagoda
- with the roof covered with tiles of imperial yellow, and a view from it
- that even an Emperor is lucky to command. At the end of a long grassy
- glade where the deer were feeding in the shade of oaks and willows was a
- tall pagoda, and the Emperor's library was in another little valley,
- hidden away behind high walls. We entered through a guard-house and came
- upon a small door in the high stone wall, and this door on the inner side
- appeared to be blocked not only by the trunk of a tree but by a huge rock.
- There was, however, just room for one person to pass round, and then we
- entered a shaded rock garden, which is all round the building that holds
- the library. The deep veranda was charming, on the hottest day one might
- sit, cool and secluded, reading here, and on each corner are exquisite
- bronze models of Chinese ponies. The library itself, like most of these
- houses, was sealed up, and our young friend had not the key, but the
- lattice-work windows, and most of the walls are of lattice-work, for this
- is a summer palace, were down to the ground, and through the torn paper I
- could get a glimpse of what looked like another lumber-room, but that once
- must have been gorgeous with red lacquer and gold.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0051" id="linkimage-0051"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0411.jpg" alt="0411 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0411.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Always it was the same, desolation and dirt and ruin, and the young man
- who was showing us everything made as if he wished to impress upon us that
- it did not matter. He belonged to the modern world, and these were past
- and gone. But when we admired and were charmed and delighted I saw that
- he, too, was pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were the Emperor's rooms opening into a courtyard close to the
- gate, there were his great audience halls down among a grove of firs,
- where probably he received Lord Macartney. Highly scented white single
- peonies made fragrant the grass-grown courtyards, where great bronze gongs
- are the remnants of a past magnificence, and the rooms are many of them
- empty, for all they are so carefully sealed. There were more rooms for the
- Emperor on an island in the lily-covered lake; and reached by bridges that
- are taken up in June and July and boats substituted, and farthest away of
- all, at the very end of the lake, were the rooms of the Empress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Happiness Hall” the Emperor Kwang Hsi wrote on it with his
- own hands, or so our guide told us, and there to this day the golden
- characters remain. Did they speak the truth, I wonder. At that particular
- period, I believe, the Empress counted for a great deal more than the
- Emperor, so possibly at least the envious Emperor felt he was speaking the
- truth; but, as a rule, it is difficult to think that the woman who shared
- the Dragon Throne could have been happy. It is difficult to believe that
- any woman in China can be happy, she counts for so little even now.
- </p>
- <p>
- The courtyards were like all the other courtyards, with great gongs of
- Ningpo work and bronze vases, and shaded by picturesque pine-trees, only
- here was an innovation. In a sheltered corner, hidden away from the sight
- of all, by high walls and green shrubs, was the bathing-place of the Court
- ladies, and on the other side their theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Emperor had a theatre not far from the gate of the pleasure-grounds, a
- great place all falling into decay, and here they had a play for the
- entertainment <span class="pagenum">295</span><a
- name="link295_rdquo_________id_" id="link295_rdquo_________id_"></a>of
- their guests, when the first British Ambassador came here, and it is
- evident that the women were allowed to be present, even though they were
- behind a screen, for Sir George Staunton relates that the only foreigner,
- seen by these secluded women, was George Staunton aged thirteen, the page
- to the Embassy, who was led on to a platform by a eunuch, so that the
- wives and concubines of the Emperor might see what a barbarian from the
- islands of the far Western sea looked like.
- </p>
- <p>
- But here, close to her rooms, and by her bathing-place, the Empress had
- her own private theatre, and I wondered what manner of play could interest
- such secluded ladies, such narrow lives.
- </p>
- <p>
- Wonderful to relate both the theatre and the roof of the rooms showed
- signs of having been recently done up. The rumour ran that after the
- Revolution in February 1912, the Court thought of retiring here, and these
- recent repairs in a place that has been untouched for years give colour to
- the rumour. We asked our guide as we sat at afternoon tea on the veranda
- looking out at the sunlight coming through the fir-trees that make the
- approach to “Happiness Hall,” but he shook his head. He knew
- nothing about it. He was a most circumspect young man and never did know
- anything, he felt perhaps it was wisest not.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oh but it was sad the waste here. All these dwelling-places dotted about
- in the valley, on hillside, hidden away in groves of trees, are of one
- story, they are summer palaces, but the rooms are well-proportioned, and
- with their wide verandas and their lattice-work walls down to the ground,
- must have been delightful to live in, and they were furnished as <span
- class="pagenum">296</span><a name="link296" id="link296"></a>an Emperor's
- palace should be furnished. There were chairs unlike the usual Chinese
- chairs, comfortable chairs of red lacquer and blackwood, and they were
- inlaid with cloisonne work, with carved jade, with delightful patterns in
- mother-of-pearl, there were stools, there were tables, there were low k'ang
- tables of lacquer, and all were perished with the sun and the wind; of not
- one piece has any care been taken. Some of the rooms were empty, some were
- full of packing-cases hiding I know not what treasures; judging by those
- perishing chairs and tables that were left out, I should imagine something
- worth possessing. Can it be only fifty years since an Emperor came here,
- it might be two hundred judging by the state of decay everything was in,
- and yet, when all was said and done, this place struck me as being the
- most magnificent pleasure-ground, the most beautifully situated, the most
- beautifully planned, that I have ever seen, worth, and more than worth,
- the arduous journey through the mountains that I had taken to see it.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is supposed to be cut off from the people, and it is I suppose, judging
- by the joy the mission servants expressed at getting a chance to see it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All my life,” said the amah, “I have served in Manchu
- families, and yet see, it is through a foreigner I come here,” and
- it was as if the seeing had crowned her life. But still there is a little
- dribbling in of the favoured few of the lower classes. It may be they were
- the palace servants who speared great black bass in the lake. It might
- have been they who carried out baskets of lily root and sold them with the
- fish outside. I bought bass easily enough for my hostess, great things
- still alive and bleeding from women's temple.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sometimes there are rumours of art treasures sold from the palace, and
- then again it is contradicted: but I wondered, as I looked at those great
- baskets of lily roots that were constantly going outside, if here were not
- an excellent way to conceal contraband. It may be though that the guards
- at the gate are not to be bought, and possibly I do them an injustice.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0052" id="linkimage-0052"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0417.jpg" alt="0417 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0417.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- I had written this and felt apologetic for my suspicions of the humble
- guard, forgetting that this is China, where anything may happen, when
- before my book could go to press a greater than the guard, no less a
- person than the Premier himself, Hsiung Hsi Ling, the great Tartar
- General, was accused of taking away the precious curios from Jehol. He had
- brought away curios valued at tens of thousands of pounds but he succeeded
- in proving to the satisfaction of the President that he had brought them
- away only that they might be stored in one of the great museums in Peking,
- where not only could they be cared for, but they might be seen by far more
- people. Again I thought of the Babylonish gentleman. Doubtless he, too,
- would have moved the nation's treasures from one place to another
- without saying by your leave to any man. To whom was he responsible?
- Perhaps to the King upon the throne. Hardly to him, if his army was strong
- and faithful.
- </p>
- <p>
- We lingered on the veranda of the Empress's house over our afternoon
- tea—wherever we went hot water was procurable—and the sunshine
- came through the branches of the pines and firs, the great willows dipped
- their weeping branches in the clear waters of the lake, the deep blue of
- the sky contrasted <span class="pagenum">298</span><a name="link298"
- id="link298"></a>with the green of the pine-needles, and a long snake came
- slowly, slowly, through the grass to take his daily drink, unperturbed,
- though all the servants and the German girl and I ran to look at him. He
- knew he was quite safe, no one would harm a sacred snake. A small eagle
- screamed from the rocks above, there was the mourning of a dove, the
- plaintive cry of a hoopoe, and a chattering black and white magpie looked
- on. A tiny blue kingfisher, like a jewel, fluttered on to a stone, and a
- bird something like a thrush, sang sweetly and loudly as the evening
- shadows lengthened. A great blue crane, tall almost as a man flew slowly
- across the water, and the brown deer clustered in the glades and began to
- feed. Truly it was an ideal spot up among the barren hills of Inner
- Mongolia, this Park enclosed by miles of high wall and still carefully
- guarded and jealously secluded by the Republic as it was by the Manchus.
- When France became a Republic they threw open her palaces and desecrated
- her most holy places. Not so here in the unchanging East. What was
- secluded and difficult of entrance in Manchu times is secluded and entered
- only by favour still. China absorbs the present and clings to the past.
- Are they past for ever those dead and gone rulers who made these
- pleasure-grounds?
- </p>
- <p>
- Their last representative is a little boy hidden away in the heart of
- Peking, hardly realising yet what he has lost.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he comes again,” said a Chinese gentleman, “he will
- be Emperor by force of arms.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Will the power come back to him? I can no more believe that the Chinese
- will become a modern nation, forgetting these glories of their past, than
- could the women's bathing place. <span class="pagenum">299</span><a
- name="link299" id="link299"></a>prophet believe that the Lord would leave
- His chosen people in captivity.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0053" id="linkimage-0053"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0421.jpg" alt="0421 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0421.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “I will bring again the captivity of my people of Israel, and they
- shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant
- vineyards, and drink the wine thereof; they shall also make gardens and
- eat the fruit of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be
- pulled out of their land, which I have given them, saith the Lord thy God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And we from the mission wended our way back through the dusty, dirty,
- commonplace streets, and the little gentleman who had been our guide, much
- to his relief, I am sure, for he spoke little English, and he would not
- speak Chinese, turned off at the yamen.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII—THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD GODS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">300</span><a name="link300" id="link300"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- Legend of the birth of Ch'ien Lung—A valley of temples—Wells—A
- temple fair—Hawking—Suicide's rock—Five hundred
- and eight Buddhas—The Po-Ta-La—Supercilious elephants—Steep
- steps—Airless temple—The persevering frog—Bright-roofed
- Temple—Tea at the Temple of the great Buddha—The Yuan T'iing—Ming
- Temple outside Peking.
- </p>
- <p>
- As we walked in the Manchu Park the amah told us a story, a legend, and
- the missionary translated it to me. It took a long while to tell, first
- she slipped on the rocky steps and we had to wait till she recovered, then
- the General's secretary joined us, and finally, when we were safe
- back at the missionary compound, she had to wait till we got by ourselves,
- because she thought it was improper!
- </p>
- <p>
- And this was the story the amah told as we walked beneath the fir-trees.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once upon a time in the valley of Jehol there was born a little girl who
- did not speak till she was three years old, then she opened her lips,
- looked at her grandfather, and called him by name. And her grandfather
- died. She did not speak again for a long time, but the next person she
- called by name also died and consternation reigned in the family. Her
- father and mother died, whether because she spoke to them the amah did not
- know, but she was left penniless and at last a farmer took compassion
- <span class="pagenum">301</span><a name="link301" id="link301"></a>upon
- the girl, now just growing into womanhood, and told her she might have
- charge of the ducks, on condition she did not speak. So for her began a
- lonely, silent life among the mountains, herding the ducks.
- </p>
- <p>
- One night as the dusk was falling and the duck pond and the hills beyond
- were wrapped in a mysterious haze that hid and glorified everything, there
- came along an old man riding a donkey and asked her the way to the Hunting
- Palace of the Manchus that was somewhere among these hills and valleys. He
- had lost his way, he said, and wanted to get back there. The girl looked
- at him with mournful eyes and shook her head without saying a word.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is your name?” cried the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned away silently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must find my way,” he added, and she took up a stick and
- gathered her ducks together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I am the Emperor,” said he, “and I must get back.
- What manner of girl are you who will not speak to the Emperor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she looked at him more gravely than ever out of her dark eyes, and
- drove off her ducks, taking no more notice of the greatest ruler in the
- world than if he had been a common coolie. So the Emperor found his own
- way to his Hunting Palace, and that night he dreamed a dream, a vivid
- dream, that an ancestor had come to him and told him he must marry a
- strange and mysterious woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the women who came to the ruler of the earth were not strange and
- mysterious, they were ordinary and commonplace even though he had his
- choice of the women of his Empire. He brooded over the matter and came to
- the conclusion that the strange <span class="pagenum">302</span><a
- name="link302" id="link302"></a>and mysterious woman must be the girl he
- had met herding ducks in the dusk of the evening. Then he sent out to the
- part of the country where he had wandered that night and demanded the
- daughters of the farmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- The good man was highly honoured and dressed his girls in their finest
- clothes to appear before their Emperor, but, and they must have been
- bitterly disappointed, though they were pretty girls, there was nothing
- strange about them, they were as ordinary as all the other women who
- occupied, the women's quarters. He had seen many, many, like them.
- Again he sent back to the farm and they said there were no other women
- there but the girl who herded the ducks, and it could not be she because
- she spoke to no one.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That,” said the Emperor, “is the girl,” and he
- ordered her to be properly arrayed and brought before him at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas for the glamour that comes with the dusk of the evening. The girl had
- grown up without any comeliness and when she was brought before the
- Emperor he turned away disgusted. Nevertheless, for his dream's
- sake, he married her and gave her a fine house to live in, but he had
- nothing to do with her, she was his wife only in name.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the duck-herd girl, come to high estate, pined because she did not
- find favour in the sight of her lord, she never ceased to pray for his
- smiles, and at last she so worked upon him that one night he did send for
- her. She was his wife, her shame had gone from her. And presently, it was
- rumoured that the duck-herd girl was to become a mother. But the Emperor
- was angry, he could not believe the child was his, and he turned Her out
- to wander, desolate and forlorn, upon the hills. At first she despaired,
- but presently she took courage, had she not been raised from a duck-herd
- to an Emperor's wife, and was she not to bear his son, and by her
- faith in herself she persuaded some shepherds who tended their sheep upon
- the other side of the valley from the wall that surrounded the Emperor's
- pleasure-grounds to take her in, and here her son was born.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0054" id="linkimage-0054"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0427.jpg" alt="0427 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0427.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And that night the Emperor dreamed another dream. He dreamed that a most
- illustrious son had been born to him that very night. He sent to make
- inquiries and the only one of his wives or concubines who had borne a son
- that night, was the woman he had driven from him with contumely. So he
- took her back with honour, and his dream—both his dreams were
- fulfilled, for the son that was born to him that night among the hills was
- the illustrious Ch'ien Lung, the man who at eighty-three still sat
- upon the Dragon Throne when George III. of England sent Lord Macartney on
- an embassy to China in 1793.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Ch'ien Lung was a good son to his mother at least, and because
- she was a pious woman, and he was born amidst those sheltering hills, he
- built there a series of temples to the glory of God and for her pleasure.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was bound to go and see those temples, indeed I think the man or woman
- who went to Jehol and did not make a point of going up that valley must
- lack something.
- </p>
- <p>
- The drawback for me was that I had to go in a Peking cart, and even though
- those temples were <span class="pagenum">304</span><a
- name="link304_rdquo_________id_" id="link304_rdquo_________id_"></a>built
- by an Emperor I had no reason to suppose that the road that led to them
- was any better than the ordinary Chinese roads. It wasn't, but I don't
- know that it was worse. Tuan engaged the old white mule of venerable
- years, and I think that was an advantage, he went so slowly that often I
- was able to walk. I did not propose to visit all of them, there is a
- family likeness between all Chinese temples, whatever be the name of the
- deity to whom they are dedicated, and seeing too many I should miss the
- beauty of all.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a gorgeous June morning the day I set out, sitting as far forward
- as I could in the cart with Tuan on the tail of the shaft and the carter
- walking at the mule's head. All round one side of Cheng Teh Fu is
- built up a high wall that the Chinese call a breakwater, and a breakwater
- I believe it is indeed after the summer rains, though then, the Jehol
- River ran just a shallow trickle at its foot. There were many little
- vegetable gardens along here, the ground most carefully cultivated and
- showing not a weed, not a stray blade of grass. “The garden of every
- peasant contained a well for watering it,” writes Sir George
- Staunton in 1793, “and the buckets for drawing up the water were
- made of ozier twigs wattled or plaited, of so close a texture as to hold
- any fluid.” He might have been writing of the peasants of today. As
- I passed, with those selfsame buckets were they watering their gardens.
- </p>
- <p>
- The people were streaming out of the town, most of them on foot, but there
- were a few fat men and small-footed women on donkeys, and one or two of
- the richer people, I noticed by the women's dresses they were mostly
- Manchus, had blossomed out into <span class="pagenum">305</span><a
- name="link305" id="link305"></a>Peking carts. For there was a fair at one
- of the temples, a very minor temple; and a fair in China seems to be much
- what it used to be in England, say one hundred, or one hundred and fifty
- years ago. It attracts all the country people for miles round. Here they
- were all clad in blue, save the lamas, who were in bright yellow and dingy
- red. There were the people who came to worship, followed by the people who
- came to trade, who must make money out of them, men buying, selling,
- begging, men and women clad in neat blue cotton, and in the dingiest,
- dirtiest rags, men gathering the droppings of the mules and donkeys, and—how
- it made me think of the historical novels I used to love to read in the
- days when novels fascinated me—gentlemen with hooded hawks upon
- their wrists. All of them wended their way along this road, this beautiful
- road, this very, very bad road, and I went along with them, the woman who
- was not a missionary, who was travelling by herself, and who,
- consequently, was an object of interest to all, far outrivalling the fair,
- in attraction. It was a scene peculiarly Chinese, and it will be many a
- long year before I forget it.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the left-hand side rose a steep ridge well wooded for China, and on the
- very top of the ridge ran the encircling wall that shut out all but the
- favoured few from the pleasure-grounds of the Manchu Sovereigns. Six weeks
- before, up among these mountains of Inner Mongolia, all the trees were
- leafless, and on this day in June the leaves of the poplars and aspens,
- acacias and oaks still retained the delicate, dainty green of early
- spring, and on the right were the steep, precipitous cliffs over<span
- class="pagenum">306</span><a name="link306" id="link306"></a>looking the
- town. One of these cliffs goes by the sinister name of the “Suicide's
- Rock.” The Chinese, though we Westerners are accustomed to regard
- them as impassive, are at bottom an emotional people. They quarrel
- violently at times, and one way of getting even with an enemy or a man who
- has wronged them is to dare him to go over the “Suicide's
- Rock.” To my Western notions it is not quite clear how the offender
- is scored off, for the challenger must be prepared to accompany the
- challenged on his dreadful leap. Yet they do it. Three times in the six
- years the missionaries have been here have a couple gone over the cliff,
- to be dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
- </p>
- <p>
- But that sinister cliff was soon passed, and turning a little with the
- wall we went up a valley, and up that valley for perhaps eight miles,
- embosomed among the folds of the hills, hills for the most part steep,
- rounded, and treeless, are the temples, red, and gold, and white, against
- the green or brown of the hills.
- </p>
- <p>
- To the glory of God! Surely. Surely. An ideal place for temples whoever
- placed them there, artist or Emperor, holy man, or grateful son.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Idols. Idols,” say the missionaries at Jehol sadly, those
- good, kindly folk, whose life seemed to me an apology for living, a
- dedication of their whole existence to the austere Deity they have set up.
- But here I was among other gods.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We go last first,” said Tuan, and I approved. There would be
- no fear of my missing something I particularly wanted to see if they were
- all on my homeward path.
- </p>
- <p>
- “B-rrr! B-rrr! B-rrr!” cried my “cartee man”
- encouraging his old mule, and as we went along the road, up the valley,
- and everywhere in this treeless land, the temples were embowered in groves
- of trees, sometimes fir-trees, sometimes acacia or white poplar, and
- always on the road we passed the blue-clad people, and out of the carts
- peeped the Manchu ladies with highly painted faces and flower-decked hair,
- till at last we came to a halt under a couple of leafy acacia-trees, by a
- bridge that had once been planned on noble lines. And bridges are needed
- here, for the missionaries told me that a very little rain will put this
- road, that is axle-deep in dust, five feet under water. But the bridge was
- broken, the stones of the parapet were lying flat on one side; the stones
- that led up to it were gone altogether. And as the bridge that led up to
- it so was the temple.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0055" id="linkimage-0055"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0433.jpg" alt="0433 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0433.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0056" id="linkimage-0056"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0434.jpg" alt="0434 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0434.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Tuan, with some difficulty, made me understand it was the Temple of the
- five hundred and eight Buddhas, and as I went in, attended by a priest in
- the last stages of dirt and shabbiness, I saw rows upon rows of seated
- Buddhas greater than life-size, covered with gold leaf that shone out
- bright in the semi-darkness, with shaven heads and faces, sad and
- impassive, gay, and laughing, and frowning. Dead gods surely, for the roof
- is falling in, the hangings are tatters, and the dust of years lies thick
- on floor, on walls, on the Buddhas themselves. There was a pot of sand
- before one golden figure rather larger than the rest, and I burned incense
- there, bowing myself in the House of Rimmon, because I do not think that
- incense is often burned now before the dead god.
- </p>
- <p>
- They are all dead these gods in the temples <span class="pagenum">308</span><a
- name="link308" id="link308"></a>builded by a pious Emperor for his pious
- mother. The next I visited was a lamaserie, built in imitation of the
- Po-Ta-La in Lhasa. It climbs up the steep hill-side, story after story,
- with here and there on the various stages a pine-tree, and the wind
- whispers among its boughs that the Emperor who built and adorned it is
- long since dead, the very dynasty has passed away, and the gods are
- forgotten. Forgotten indeed. I got out of my cart at the bottom of the
- hill, and the gate opened to me, because the General had sent to say that
- one day that week a foreign woman was coming and she must have all
- attention, else I judge I might have waited in vain outside those doors.
- Inside is rather a gorgeous p'ia lou, flanked on either side by a
- couple of elephants. I cannot think the man who sculptured them could ever
- have seen an elephant, he must have done it from description, but he has
- contrived to put on those beasts such a very supercilious expression it
- made me smile just to look at them.
- </p>
- <p>
- From that p'ia lou the monastery rises. Never in my life before have
- I seen such an effect of sheer steep high walls. I suppose it must be
- Tibetan, for it is not Chinese as I know the Chinese. Stage after stage it
- rose up, showing blank walls that once were pinkish red, with square
- places like windows, but they were not windows, they were evidently put
- there to catch the eye and deepen the effect of steepness. Stage after
- stage I climbed up steep and narrow steps that were closed alongside the
- wall, and Tuan, according to Chinese custom, supported my elbow, as if it
- were hardly likely I should be capable of taking another step. Also,
- according to his custom, he had engaged a ragged follower to <span
- class="pagenum">309</span><a name="link309" id="link309"></a>carry my
- camera, and a half-naked little boy to bear the burden of the umbrella. I
- don't suppose I should have said anything under any circumstances,
- China had taught me my limitations where my servants were concerned, but
- that day I was glad of his aid, for this Tibetan temple meant to me steep
- climbing. I have no use for stairs. Stage after stage we went, and on each
- platform the view became wider, far down the valley I could see, and the
- hills rose range after range, softly rounded, rugged, fantastic, till they
- faded away in the far blue distance. I had thought the Nine Dragon Temple
- wonderful, but now I knew that those men of the Ming era who had built it
- had never dreamed of the glories of these mountains of Inner Mongolia. I
- was weary before I came to the last pine-tree, but still there was a great
- walled, flat-topped building towering far above me, its walls the faded
- pinkish red, on the edge of its far-away roof a gleam of gold.
- </p>
- <p>
- The steps were so narrow, so steep, and so rugged, that if I had not been
- sure that never in my life should I come there again I should have
- declined to go up them, but I did go up, and at the top we came to a door,
- a door in the high blind wall that admitted us to a great courtyard with
- high walls towering all round it and a temple, one of the many temples in
- this building, in the centre. The temple was crowded with all manner of
- beautiful things, vases of cloisonné, figures overlaid with gold leaf,
- hangings of cut silk, the chair of the Dalai Lama in gold and carved
- lacquer-work, the mule-saddle used by the Emperor Ch'ien Lung,
- lanterns, incense burners, shrines, all heaped together in what seemed to
- me the wildest confusion, and everything was <span class="pagenum">310</span><a
- name="link310" id="link310"></a>more than touched with the finger of
- decay. All the rich, red lacquer was perished, much of the china and
- earthenware was broken, the hangings were rotted and torn and ragged, the
- paint was peeling from stonework and wood, the copper and brass was green
- with rust. Ichabod! Ichabod! The gods are dead, the great Emperor is but a
- name.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was oppressive in there too, for the blank walls towered up four sides
- square, the bright blue sky was above and the sun was shining beyond, but
- the mountain breezes for at least one hundred and fifty years have not
- been able to get in here, and it was hot, close, and airless. Once there
- were more steps that led up to the very top of the wall, but they are
- broken and dangerous now, crumbling to ruin, and as far as I could make
- out from Tuan's imperfect English no one has been up them for many a
- long day. There was nothing to be done but to go away from this airless
- temple and make my way down, down to the platform where are its
- foundations, and thence down, down, by the little plateaux where the
- pine-trees grow, by the rough and broken paths to the floor of the valley
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sightseeing always wearies me. I want to see these places, I want to know
- what they are like, I want to be in a position to talk about them to
- people who have also been there—they are the people who are most
- interested in one's doings—but the actual doing of the
- sightseeing I always find burdensome. Now having done so much I was
- tempted to go back and say I had had enough, for the time being, at any
- rate, but then I remembered I could not indefinitely trespass upon the
- kindness of my hosts, I must go soon, and I should never, never come back
- to this valley. Still I was desperately tired and sorely tempted to give
- up, and then I remembered the two frogs who fell into a pitcher of milk. I
- don't think Aesop told the story, but he ought to have done so. They
- swam round and round hopelessly, for there was no possibility of getting
- out, and one said to the other, “It's no good, we may as well
- give in. It'll save trouble in the end,” and he curled up his
- legs and sank to the bottom of the milk and was drowned. But the other
- frog was made of sterner stuff.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I'll just hustle round a bit,” said he,
- needless to say he was an American frog, “who knows what may happen.”
- So he swam round and round, and sure enough when they looked into that
- pitcher in the morning there he was sitting on a little pat of butter!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0057" id="linkimage-0057"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0440.jpg" alt="0440 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0440.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- I thought of that frog as I sat at the door of the next temple we drove up
- to, and I, weary and tired and a little cross, had to wait some time, for
- the priest who had the keys was not there. Of course I had sent no word
- that I was coming and it was unreasonable of me to expect that the priest
- should wait from dawn till dark for my arrival. With me waited a little
- crowd of people, men, women, and children, that gradually grew in numbers,
- and when the custodian at last arrived it was evident they all intended to
- take advantage of my presence and go in and see the temple too. I had not
- the least objection, neither, it seemed, had the priest. They were
- holiday-makers from the fair, and they probably gave him some small
- trifle. Tuan decided that we should give eighty cents, roughly about one
- and eightpence, or forty cents American money. <span class="pagenum">312</span><a
- name="link312" id="link312"></a>And glad indeed was I that I had waited.
- Not that the temple differed much inside the courtyard and the sanctuary
- from the other temples I have seen, all was the same ruin and desolation,
- only after I had climbed up many steps, roughly made of stones and earth,
- we came upon a platform from which the roof was visible. The Emperor's
- Palace, they call this, or the Bright-roofed Temple, and truly it is
- well-named. Its roof, with dragons running up all four corners, is of
- bronze covered with gold, and gleams and glitters in the sunshine. Solomon's
- Temple, in all its glory, could not have been more wonderful, and as I
- tried to photograph it, though no photograph can give any idea of its
- beauty, some girls, Manchu by their head-dresses, with flowers in their
- hair, giggled and pointed, and evidently discussed me. I thought they
- would come in well—a contrast to that gorgeous roof, but a
- well-dressed Chinese—not in foreign clothes, I imagine the General's
- secretary is the only man up among these hills who could indulge in such
- luxuries, drove them away and then came and apologised, through Tuan, for
- their behaviour. I said, truly enough, that I did not mind in the least,
- but he said, as far as I. could make out, that their behaviour was
- unpardonable, so I am afraid they hadn't admired me, which was
- unkind, considering I had taken them in.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next temple, a mass of golden brown and green tiled roofs, looked
- loveliest of all in its setting, against the hill-side. The roofs, broken
- and irregular, peeped out from among the firs and pines, and there was a
- soft melody in the air as we approached, for a wind, a gentle wind had
- arisen, and every bell <span class="pagenum">313</span><a
- name="link313_rdquo_________id_" id="link313_rdquo_________id_"></a>hanging
- at the corners of the many roofs was chiming musically. I do not know any
- sweeter sound than the sound of those temple bells as the evening falls.
- This was an extensive place of many courtyards, climbing up the hill like
- the lamaserie, the Ta Fo Hu they call it or “Great Buddha Temple,”
- for in one of the temples, swept and garnished better than any temples I
- had seen before, was a colossal figure seventy feet high with many arms
- outstretched and an eye in the palm of every hand. It is surely a very
- debased Buddhism, but I see the symbolism, the hand which bestows and the
- eye which sees all things. But for all the beauty of the symbolism it was
- ugly, as all the manifestations of the Deity, as conceived by man, are apt
- to be. The stone flooring was swept, but the gold is falling from the
- central figure, the lacquer is perished, the hangings are torn and
- dust-laden beyond description, and the only things of any beauty are walls
- which are covered with little niches in which are seated tiny golden
- Buddhas, hundreds of them. I wanted to buy one but the priests shook their
- heads, and it would have been a shame to despoil the temple. Even if they
- had said, “Yes,” I don't know that I would have taken
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were many priests here, shaven-headed old men and tiny children in
- brilliant yellow and purplish red, but they were all as shabby and
- poverty-stricken as the temple itself. I had tea on one of the many
- platforms overlooking many roofs, and a young monk made me a seat from the
- broken yellow tiles that lay on the ground, and the little boy priests
- looked so eagerly at the cakes I had brought with me—the priests
- gave me tea—that I gave some to them and <span class="pagenum">314</span><a
- name="link314" id="link314"></a>they gobbled them up like small boys all
- the world over. Tuan pointed out to me some dark steps in the wall. If I
- went up there I should reach the Great Buddha's head; but I shook my
- head, not even the recollection of the frog who gave up so easily could
- have made me climb those steps. I am not even sorry now that I didn't.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was very tired by this time, and very thankful that there was only one
- more temple to see. There were really eight in all, but I was suffering
- from a surfeit of temples, only I could not miss this one, for every day
- when I went for a walk I could see its glorious golden brown tiled roof
- amid the dark green of the surrounding mountain pines. It was unlike any
- Chinese roof I have seen, but it is one of the temples of this valley. It
- is the Yuan T'ing, a temple built by Ch'ien Lung, not for his
- mother but for a Tibetan wife, after the style of her country, that she
- might not feel so lonely in a strange land.
- </p>
- <p>
- Its pinkish red arched walls and gateways seemed quite close, but it was
- exceedingly difficult to get at, particularly for a tired woman who, when
- she was not jolting in a Peking cart, had been climbing up more steps than
- even now she cares to think about. And the temple, save for that roof, was
- much like every other temple, a place of paved courtyards with the grass
- and weeds growing up among the stones, and grass and even young pine-trees
- growing on the tiled roofs. The altars were shabby and decayed, and when I
- climbed up till I was right under the domed roof—and it was a steep
- climb—more than once I was tempted to turn back and take it as read,
- as they do long reports at meetings. I found the round chamber was the
- roosting-place of many pigeons, all <span class="pagenum">315</span><a
- name="link315" id="link315"></a>the lacquer was perished, the bronze
- rusted, and though the attendant opened many doors with many keys, I know
- that the place is seldom visited, and but for that vivid roof, it must be
- forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0058" id="linkimage-0058"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0446.jpg" alt="0446 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0446.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And yet the people like to look at these things. There was not a crowd
- following me as there was at the Bright-roofed Temple, but there was still
- the ragged-looking coolie who was carrying my camera. I suspected him of
- every filthy disease known in China, and their name must be legion, any
- that had by chance escaped him I thought might have found asylum with the
- boy who bore my umbrella. I hoped that rude health and an open-air life
- would enable me to throw off any germs. These two, who had had to walk
- where I had ridden, I pitied, so I told Tuan to say they need not climb up
- as I had used up all my plates and certainly had no use for an umbrella.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She say 'No matter,'” said Tuan including them
- both in the feminine, “She like to come,” and I think he liked
- it as well, for they escorted me with subdued enthusiasm round that domed
- chamber inspecting what must have been a reproduction of a debased
- Buddhist hell in miniature. It was covered with dust, faded, and
- weather-worn, like everything else in the temple, but it afforded the four
- who were with me great pleasure, and when with relief I saw a figure
- instead of being bitten by a snake, or eaten by some gruesome beast, or
- sawn asunder between two planks, merely resting in a tree, Tuan explained
- with great gusto and evident satisfaction: “Spikes in tree.”
- He took care I should lose none of the flavour of the tortures. But even
- the tortures were faded and worn, the dust had settled on them, the air
- and the sun <span class="pagenum">316</span><a
- name="link316_rdquo_________id_" id="link316_rdquo_________id_"></a>had
- perished them, and I could not raise a shudder. Dusty and unclean they
- spoiled for me the beauty of the golden roof and the dark green mountain
- pines. I was glad to go down the many steps again, glad to go down to the
- courtyard where the temple attendant, who might have been a priest, but
- was dressed in blue cotton and had the shaven head and queue that so many
- of the Manchus still affect, gave me tea out of his tiny cups, seated on
- the temple steps. A dirty old man he was, but his tea was perfect, and I
- made up my mind not to look whether the cups were clean, for his manners
- matched his tea.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then I went out on to the broad cleared space in front, and feasted my
- eyes for the last time on the golden brown tiled roof set amongst the
- green of the pines, and clear-cut against the vivid blue of the sky.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet it is not the beauty only that appeals, there is something more
- than that, for even as I look at those hills, I remember another temple I
- visited just outside Peking, a little temple, and I went not by myself but
- with a party of laughing young people. There was nothing beautiful about
- this temple, the walls were crumbled almost to dust, the roof was falling
- in, upon the tiles the grasses were growing, the green kaoliang crept up
- to the forsaken altars, and the dust-laden wind of Northern China swept in
- through the broken walls and caressed the forgotten gods who still in
- their places look out serenely on the world beyond.
- </p>
- <p>
- I could not but remember Swinburne, “Laugh out again for the gods
- are dead.” Are they dead? Does anything die in China? <span
- class="pagenum">317</span><a name="link317" id="link317"></a>In the Ming
- Dynasty, some time in the fifteenth century, when the Wars of the Roses
- were raging in England they built this little temple, nearly three hundred
- years before Ch'ien Lung built the temples in the valley at Jehol,
- and they installed the gods in all the glory of red lacquer and gold, and
- when the last gold leaf had been laid on and the last touches had been
- given to the dainty lacquer they walked out and left it, left it to the
- soft, insidious decay that comes to things forgotten. For it must be
- remembered, whether we look at this valley of dead gods or this little
- temple outside Peking, that when a memorial is put up it is not expected
- to last for ever, and no provision is made or expected for its upkeep. If
- it last a year, well and good, so was the man to whom it was put up,
- valued, and if it last a hundred years—if five hundred years after
- it was dedicated there still remains one stone standing upon the other,
- how fragrant the memory of that man must have been. It is five hundred
- years since this temple was built and still it endures. Behind is the wall
- of the city, grim and grey, but the gods do not look upon the wall, their
- faces are turned to the south and the gorgeous sunshine. They still sit in
- their places, but the little figures that once adorned the chamber are
- lying about on the ground or leaning up disconsolately against the greater
- gods, and some of them are broken. On the ground, in the dust, was a
- colossal head with a face that reminded us that the silken robes of Caesar's
- wife came from China, for that head was never modelled from any Mongolian,
- dead or alive. A Roman Emperor might have sat for it. The faces that
- looked down on it, lying there in the dust, were Eastern there were the
- narrow <span class="pagenum">318</span><a name="link318" id="link318"></a>eyes,
- the impassive features, the thin lips, but this, this was European, this
- man had lived and loved, desired and mourned, and, for there was just a
- touch of scorn on the lips, when he had drained life to its dregs, or
- renounced its joys, said with bitterness: “All is vanity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the Chinese peasants came and looked at the aliens having tiffin in
- the shade, and for them our broken meats were a treat. One was crippled
- and one was blind and one was covered with the sores of smallpox, so
- hideous to look upon that the lady amongst us who prided herself upon her
- good looks turned shuddering away and implored that they be driven off,
- before we all caught the terrible disease.
- </p>
- <p>
- What could life possibly hold for these people? Surely for them the gods
- are dead?
- </p>
- <p>
- I talked with an old woman, dirty and wrinkled, with a bald head and
- maimed feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She asks how old you are?” translated the young man beside
- me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell her I am sixty.” I thought it would sound more
- respectable.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A-a-h!” She looked at me a moment. “She says,” he
- went on translating, “that you have worn better than she has, for
- she is sixty too. And have you any sons?”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a moment I hesitated, but I was not going to lose face, what would she
- think of a woman without sons, so I laid my hand on his arm, and smiled to
- indicate that he was my son.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A-a-h!” and she talked and smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does she say?” He looked a little shy. “Tell me”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She says you are to be congratulated,” and indeed he was a
- fine specimen of manhood. “She says she has three sons.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0059" id="linkimage-0059"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0452.jpg" alt="0452 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0452.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And alas, alas, I had brought it on myself, for I was not to be
- congratulated, I have no son, but I was answered too. I have called the
- gods dead, but they are not dead. What if the temple crumbles? There is
- the cloudless sky and the growing green around it. This woman was old, and
- grey, and bent. The gods have given her three sons, and she is content.
- This child had the smallpox, and by and by when it shall have passed—Ah
- but that is beyond me. What compensation can there be for the scarred face
- and blinded eyes? Only if we understood all things, perhaps the savour
- would be gone from life. Behind all is the All Merciful, the dead gods in
- the temples are but a manifestation of the Great Power that is over all.
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought of that little temple outside the walls of Peking, and the old
- woman who congratulated me on the son I had not as I stood taking my last
- look at the Yuan T'ing. And then I looked again away down the valley
- to the folds of the hills where the other temples nestled, embowered in
- trees. Far away I could see the sheer walls of the Po Ta La climbing up
- the hill-side golden and red and white with the evening sunlight falling
- upon them, and making me feel that just so from this very spot at this
- very hour they should be looked at, and then I went down, a ten minutes'
- weary scramble, I was very, very tired, to my cart and across the Jehol
- River again, back to the missionary compound.
- </p>
- <p>
- Never again shall I visit that valley of temples that lies among the hills
- of Inner Mongolia, never again, and though, of course, since the days of
- <span class="pagenum">320</span><a name="link320" id="link320"></a>Marco
- Polo Europeans have visited it, it is so distant, so difficult to come at
- that they have not gone in battalions. But those temples in the folds of
- the hills are beautiful beyond dreaming, and though their glory has gone,
- still in their decay, with the eternal hills round and behind them, they
- form a fitting memorial to the man who set them there to the glory of God
- and for his humble mother's sake.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—IN A WUPAN
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">321</span><a name="link321" id="link321"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The difficulties of the laundry—A friend in need—A strange
- picnic party—The authority of the parent—Travelling in a mule
- litter—Rain—A frequented highway—Yellow oiled paper—Restricted
- quarters—Dodging the smoke—“What a lot you eat!”—Charm
- of the river—Modest Chinamen—The best-beloved grandchild—The
- gorges of the Lanho—The Wall again—Effect of rain on the
- Chinaman—The captain's cash-box—A gentleman of Babylon—Lanchou.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now it was time
- to bid farewell to my kind hosts and start back to Peking. Thank goodness
- it was going to be fairly easy. Instead of the abominable cart I was going
- to float down the River Lan in a wupan, a long, narrow, flat-bottomed
- boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- First I sent my servant with my card to the Tartar General to thank him
- for all his kindness. This brought Mr Wu down again with the General's
- card at the most awkward hour of course, in the middle of tiffin, and Mr
- Wu, much to my surprise, was dignified and even stately in full Chinese
- dress. He was all grey and black. His petticoat or coat or whatever it is
- called was down to his ankles and was of silk, he wore a little sleeveless
- jacket, and his trousers were tied in with neat black bands at his neat
- little ankles. So nice did he look, such a contrast to the commonplace
- little man I had seen before, that I felt obliged to admire him openly.
- Besides, I am <span class="pagenum">322</span><a
- name="link322_rdquo_________id_" id="link322_rdquo_________id_"></a>told
- that is quite in accordance with Chinese good manners.
- </p>
- <p>
- He received my compliments with a smile, and then explained the reason of
- the change.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must send shirt, collar, Tientsin, be washed. I very poor man, no
- more got.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Tientsin was three or four days by river, sometimes much more, as well
- as five hours by train! I felt he had indeed done me an honour when he had
- used up his available stock of linen in my entertaining, and to think I
- had only admired him when he was in native dress!
- </p>
- <p>
- Another Chinese gentleman came in that day and was introduced to me. He
- contented himself with Chinese dress, and he had more English, though it
- was of a peculiar order.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I hate to hear people laugh at Mr Chung's English,”
- said the missionary who was a man of the world. “He was a good
- friend to me and mine. If it hadn't been for him, I doubt if I or my
- wife or children would be here now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the time of the Boxer trouble, and the missionary was stationed at
- Pa Kou where Mr Chung had charge of the telegraph station. The
- missionaries grew salads in their garden, which the head of the telegraphs
- much appreciated, and even when he felt it wiser not to be too closely in
- touch with the foreigners, he still sent down a basket for a salad
- occasionally. One day in the bottom of the basket he put a letter. “The
- foreign warships are attacking the Taku Forts,” it ran, “better
- get away. I am keeping back the news.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the missionary could not get away. Up and down the town he went, but
- he could get no carts. <span class="pagenum">323</span><a
- name="link323_rdquo_________id_" id="link323_rdquo_________id_"></a>All
- the carters raised their prices to something that was prohibitive, even
- though death faced them. And then came the basket again for more salads
- and in the bottom was another letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The foreign ships have taken the Taku Forts,” it said.
- “I am keeping back the news. Go away as soon as possible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the missionary spoke outright of his dilemma, and Mr Chung went
- to the Prefect of the town and enlisted him on their side. The carters
- were sent for.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would not go,” said the Prefect, “when this man
- offered you a great sum of money,” it sounded quite Biblical as he
- told it. “Now you will go for the ordinary charge or I will take off
- your heads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So two carts were got, and the missionary, his wife, and children, and as
- much of their household goods as they could take, were hustled into them,
- and they started off for the nearest port.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If ever I am in a hole again I hope I travel with such women,”
- said the missionary; “they were as cheerful as if it was a
- picnic-party.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All went well for a couple of days, and then one day, passing through a
- town, a man came up and addressed them, and said he was servant to some
- Englishmen, a couple of mining engineers, who were held up in this town,
- because they had heard there was an ambush laid for all foreigners a
- little farther down the road. And the missionaries had thought they were
- the last foreigners left in the country!
- </p>
- <p>
- They promptly sought out the Englishmen, who confirmed the boy's
- story. It was not safe to go farther. The little party decided to stick
- together, <span class="pagenum">324</span><a name="link324" id="link324"></a>and
- finally the missionary went to the Prefect and told him how the Prefect at
- Pa Kou had helped them, and suggested it would be wise to do likewise,
- especially as the foreigners were sure to win in the end.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Prefect considered the matter and finally promised to help them,
- provided they put themselves entirely in his hands and said nothing, no
- matter what they heard. It seemed a desperate thing to do to put
- themselves entirely in the hands of their enemies, but it was the only
- chance, that chance or Buckley's and Buckley, says the Australian
- proverb, never had a chance. They agreed to the Prefect's terms; he
- set a guard of soldiers over them, and they travelled surrounded by them.
- But at first they were very doubtful whether they had been wise in
- trusting a man who was to all intents and purposes an open enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did you get them?” asked the people of the soldiers as
- they passed. And the soldiers detailed at length their capture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what are you going to do with them?” And the soldiers
- always said that, by the orders of the Prefect of the town where they had
- been captured, they were taking them on to be delivered over to the proper
- authorities, who would know what to do with them, doubtless the least that
- could happen would be that they would have their heads taken off.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the man who told me the story had lived through such days as that. Had
- seen his wife and children live through them!
- </p>
- <p>
- But the Prefect was as good as his word, the soldiers saw them through the
- danger-zone to safety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if it had not been for Mr Chung in the first <span
- class="pagenum">325</span><a name="link325" id="link325"></a>instance———-”
- says the missionary, and his gratitude was in his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Mr Chung had his own troubles. He was progressive and modern, not, I
- think, Christian, and he had actually himself taught his daughters to
- read. Also he had decided not to bind their feet. And then, the pity of it—and
- the extraordinary deference that is paid to elders in China—there
- came orders from his parents in Canton—he must be a man over forty—the
- daughters' feet were to be bound.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was glad indeed to have heard the story of Mr Chung before I set out on
- my journey.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Lanho is seven miles, a two hours' journey by mule litter or
- cart from Cheng Teh Fu, and I decided to go by litter and send my things
- by cart, for, not only did I object to a cart, but I thought I would like
- to see what travelling by mule litter was like. I am perfectly satisfied
- now—I don't ever want to go by one again.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had to get in at the missionary compound, because it takes four men to
- lift a litter on to the mules, and there was only one to attend to it. It
- was early in the morning, only a little after six, but all the
- missionaries walked about a mile of the way with me—I felt it was
- exceedingly kind of them, because it was the only time I ever saw men and
- women together outside the compound—then they bade me good-bye, and
- I was fairly started on my journey. I sat in my litter on a spring
- cushion, lent me for the cart by a Chinese gentleman, and I endeavoured to
- balance myself so that the litter should not—as it seemed to me to
- be threatening to do—turn topsy-turvy. It made me rather
- uncomfortable at first, because once in there is no way of getting out
- without <span class="pagenum">326</span><a name="link326" id="link326"></a>lifting
- the litter off the mules. You may indeed slip down between it and the
- leading mule's hind legs, but that proceeding strikes me as
- decidedly risky, for a mule can kick and his temper does not seem to be
- improved by having the shafts of a litter on his back.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a cloudy morning and it threatened rain. I had only seen one day's
- rain since I had been in China. The scenery was wild and grand. We went
- along by the Jehol River, on the edge of one range of precipitous
- mountains, while the other, on the other side of the river, towered above
- us. We were going along the bottom of a valley, as is usual in this part
- of the world, but as the Jehol is a flowing river and takes up a good part
- of the bottom, we very often went along a track that was cut out of the
- mountain-side. The white mule in front with the jingling bells and red
- tassels on his collar and headstall, always preferred the very edge, so
- that when I looked out of the left-hand side of my litter, I looked down a
- depth of about thirty or forty feet, as far as I could guess, into the
- river-bed below. I found it better not to look. Not that it was very deep
- or that there was any likelihood of my going over. I am fully convinced,
- in spite of the objurgations showered upon him by the driver, that that
- white mule knew his business thoroughly. Still it made me uncomfortable to
- feel so helpless.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the way was very busy indeed, even thus early in the morning. All
- sorts of folk were going along it, there were heavy country carts drawn by
- seven strong mules, they were taking grain to the river to be shipped
- “inside the Wall,” and the road that they followed was
- abominable. Every now and <span class="pagenum">327</span><a name="link327"
- id="link327"></a>again they would stick in the heavy sand or ruts, or
- stones of the roadway—everything that should not be in a road,
- according to our ideas, was there—and the driver would promptly
- produce a spade and dig out the wheels, making the way for the next cart
- that passed worse than ever. Two litters passed us empty, and we met any
- number of donkeys laden, I cannot say with firewood, but with bundles of
- twigs that in any other country that I know would not be worth the
- gathering, much less the transport, but would be burnt as waste. And there
- were numberless people on foot, this was evidently a much-frequented
- highway, since it was busy now when it was threatening rain, for no
- Chinese go out in the rain if they can help it. I thoroughly sympathise, I
- should think twice myself before going if I had but one set of clothes and
- nowhere to dry them if they got wet. The hill-sides were rocky and
- sterile, but wherever there was a flat place, wherever there was a little
- pocket of fertile ground, however inaccessible it might appear, it was
- carefully cultivated, so was all the valley bottom along the banks of the
- river, and all this ground was crying out for the rain. And then presently
- down it came, heavy, pouring rain such as I had only seen once before in
- China. It drove across our pathway like a veil, all the rugged hills were
- softened and hidden in a grey mist, and my muleteer drew over and around
- me sheets of yellow oiled paper through which I peered at the surrounding
- scenery. I wasn't particularly anxious to get wet myself, because I
- did not see in an open boat how on earth I was ever to get dry again, and
- three or four days wet or even damp, would not have been either
- comfortable, or healthy.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0060" id="linkimage-0060"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0462.jpg" alt="0462 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0462.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">328</span><a name="link328" id="link328"></a>At last
- we arrived at the river, a broad, swift-flowing, muddy river running along
- the bottom of the valley and apparently full to the brim, at least there
- were no banks, and needless to say, of course, there was not a particle of
- vegetation to beautify it. There was a crossing here very like the
- ferrying-place I had crossed on my journey up, and there were a row of
- long boats with one end of them against the bank. It was raining hard when
- I arrived, and the litter was lifted down from the mules, but the only
- thing to do was to sit still and await the arrival of Tuan and my baggage
- in the Peking cart.
- </p>
- <p>
- They came at last, and the rain lifting a little Tuan set about preparing
- one of the boats for my reception.
- </p>
- <p>
- I must confess I looked on with interest, because I did not quite see how
- I was going to spend several days with a servant and three boatmen in such
- cramped quarters. The worst of it was there was no getting out of it now
- if I did not like it, it had to be done. Though I do worry so much I
- always find it is about the wrong thing. I had never—and I might
- well have done so—thought about the difficulties of this boat
- journey until I stood on the banks of the river, committed to it, and
- beyond the range of help from any of my own colour. For one moment my
- heart sank. If it had been the evening I should have despaired, but with
- fourteen good hours of daylight before me I can always feel hopeful,
- especially if they are to be spent in the open air. The wupan is about
- thirty-seven feet long, flat bottomed, and seven feet wide in the middle,
- tapering of course towards the ends. In the middle V-shaped sticks hold up
- a ridge pole, and <span class="pagenum">329</span><a
- name="link329_rdquo_________id_" id="link329_rdquo_________id_"></a>across
- this Tuan put a couple of grass mats we had bought for this purpose, then
- he produced some unbleached calico—and when I think of what I paid
- for that unbleached calico, and how poor the Chinese peasants are, I am
- surprised that the majority of them do not go naked—and proceeded to
- make of it a little tent for me right in the middle of the awning. I stood
- it until I discovered that the idea was he should sleep at one end and the
- boatmen at the other, and then I protested. What I was to be guarded from
- I did not know, but I made him clearly understand that one end of the boat
- I must have to myself. There might be a curtain across the other end of
- the awning, that I did not mind, but I must be free to go out without
- stepping on sleeping servant or boatmen. That little matter adjusted, much
- to his surprise, the next thing we had to think about was the stove. I
- wanted it so placed that when the wind blew the matting did not make a
- funnel that would carry the smoke directly into my face. But that is just
- exactly what it did do, and I've come to the conclusion there is no
- possible way of arranging a stove comfortably on a winding river. We tried
- it aft, and we tried it for'ard, and when it was aft it seemed the
- wind was behind, and when it was for'ard the wind was ahead, and
- whichever way the smoke came it was equally unpleasant, so I decided the
- only thing to be done was to smile and look pleasant, and be thankful that
- whereas I required three meals a day to sustain me in doing nothing, my
- boatmen who did all the work and had a stove of their own, apparently,
- sustained life on two. The ideal way would be to have a companion and two
- boats, and then the trip would be delightful. <span class="pagenum">330</span><a
- name="link330" id="link330"></a>As it was I found it well worth doing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The rain stopped that first day soon after we left the crossing-place, and
- from the little low boat the mountains on either side appeared to tower
- above us, rugged, precipitous, sterile; they were right down to the waters
- edge and the river wound round, and on the second day we were in the heart
- of the mountains, and passed through great rocky gorges. It was lonely for
- China, but just as I thought that no human being could possibly live in
- such a sterile land, I would see far up on the hills a little spot of
- blue, some small boy herding goats, or a little pocket of land between two
- great rocks, carefully tilled, and the young green crops just springing
- up. And then again there were little houses, neat, tidy little houses with
- heavy roofs, and I wondered what it must be like to be here in the
- mountains when the winter held them in its grip. Somehow it seemed to me
- far more lonely and desolate than anything I had seen on my way across
- country.
- </p>
- <p>
- We always tied up for the men to eat their midday meal, and we always tied
- up for the night. But we wakened at the earliest glimmer of dawn. They
- evidently breakfasted on cold millet porridge, and I, generally, was up
- and dressed and had had my breakfast and forgotten all about it by
- five-thirty in the morning. My bed took up most of the room in my
- quarters, I dressed and washed on it, a bath was out of the question, and
- pulling aside the curtains sat on it and had my breakfast, the captain of
- the boat, the gentleman with the steering-oar, looking on with the
- greatest interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke to Tuan evidently about my breakfast, and I asked him what he
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She say what a lot you eat,” said Tuan. “Not in ten
- days she have so much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">468</span><a name="link468" id="link468"></a>And I
- was surprised, because I had thought my breakfast exceedingly frugal. I
- had watched the eggs being poached, and I ate them without butter or toast
- or bacon, I had a dry piece of bread, tea, of course, and some
- unappetising stewed pears. But by and by I was watching my captain
- shovelling in basinsful of millet porridge, about ten times as much as I
- ate, and I came to the conclusion it was the variety he was commenting on,
- not the amount.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were things of delight those early mornings on the river. At first
- all the valley would be wrapped in a soft grey mist, with here and there
- the highest peaks, rugged and desolate, catching the sunlight; then
- gradually, gradually, the sun came down the valley and the mists melted
- before his rays, lingering here and there in the hollows, soft and grey
- and elusive, till at last the sunlight touched the water and gave this
- muddy water of the river a golden tint, and all things rejoiced in the
- new-born day. The little blue kingfishers preened themselves, the
- blue-grey cranes with white necks and black points that the Chinese call
- “long necks” sailed with outspread wings slowly across the
- water, and the sunlight on the square sails of the upcoming boats made
- them gleam snow white. For there was much traffic on the river. Desolate
- as the country round was, the river was busy. The boats that were going
- down stream were rowed, and those that were coming up, when the wind was
- with them, put out great square sails, and when it was against them were
- towed by four men. They fastened the towing rope to the mast, stripped
- themselves, and slipping a <span class="pagenum">332</span><a
- name="link332" id="link332"></a>loop over their heads fixed it round their
- chests and pulled by straining against a board that was fast in the loop.
- The current was strong, and it must have been hard work judging by the way
- they strained on the rope. The missionaries were afraid I would be shocked
- at the sight of so many naked men, but it was the other way round, my
- presence, apparently the only woman on the river, created great
- consternation, for the Chinaman is a modest man. Badly I wanted to get a
- photograph of those straining men, for never have I seen the Chinese to
- greater advantage. In their shabby blue cotton they look commonplace and
- of the slums, you feel they are unwashed, but these suggest splendid
- specimens of brawny manhood. They don't need to be washed. However,
- as we approached, boatmen and servant all raised their voices in a loud
- warning singsong. What they said, I do not know, but it must have been
- something like: “Oh brothers, put on your clothes. We have a
- bothering foreign woman on board.” The result would be a wild
- scramble and everybody would be getting into dirty blue garments, only
- some unfortunate, who was steering in a difficult part or had hold of a
- rope that could not be dropped was left helpless, and he crouched down or
- hid behind a more lucky companion. If there had been anybody with whom to
- laugh I would have laughed many a time when we met or passed boats on the
- Lanho. But I never got a really good photograph of those towing men. My
- men evidently felt it would be taking them at a disadvantage, and the
- production of my camera was quite sufficient to send us off into mid
- stream, as far away from the towing boat as possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- Occasionally the hills receded just a little and left a small stretch of
- flat country where there were always exceedingly neat-looking huts. There
- were the neatest bundles of sticks stacked all round them, just twigs, and
- we landed once to buy some, for the men cooked entirely with them, and my
- little stove needed them to start the charcoal. But oh, the people who
- came out of those houses were dirty. Never have I seen such
- unclean-looking unattractive women. One had a child in her arms with
- perfectly horrible-looking eyes, and I knew there was another unfortunate
- going to be added to the many blind of China. She ran away at the sight of
- me, and so did two little stark-naked boys. I tempted them with biscuits,
- and their grandfather or great-grandfather, he might have been, watched
- with the deepest interest. He and I struck up quite a friendship over the
- incident, smiling and laughing and nodding to one another, as much as to
- say, “Yes, it was natural they should be afraid, but we—we,
- who had seen the world—of course knew better.” Then he went
- away and fetched back in his arms another small shaven-headed youngster
- whom he patted and petted and called my attention to, as much as to say
- this was little Benjamin, the well-beloved, had I not a biscuit for him?
- Alas I had been too long away from civilisation and I had given away all I
- had. But when I think about it, it is always with a feeling of regret that
- I had not a sweet biscuit for that old Chinaman up in the mountains and
- his best-beloved grandson.
- </p>
- <p>
- I saw one morning some men fishing in the shallows by a great rock, and I
- demanded at once that we buy a fish. They were spearing the fish and <span
- class="pagenum">334</span><a name="link334" id="link334"></a>we bought a
- great mud-fish for five cents, for I saw the money handed over, and then
- the unfortunate fish with a reed through his gills was dragged through the
- water alongside the boat. When I came to eat a small piece of him, which I
- did with interest I was so tired of chicken, he was abominable, and I
- smiled a little ruefully when I found in the accounts he was charged at
- thirty-five cents! Judging by the nastiness of that fish one ought to be
- able to buy up the entire contents of the Lanho for such a sum. However,
- the boatmen ate him gladly, and I suppose if I lived on millet for
- breakfast, tiffin, and dinner, and any time else when I felt hungry, I
- might even welcome a mud-fish for a change. Their only relish appeared to
- be what Tuan called “sour pickle.” There was one most
- unappetising-looking salted turnip which lasted a long while, though every
- one of the crew had a bite at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gorge after gorge we passed, and the rocks rising above us seemed very
- high, while the sun beating down upon the water in that enclosed space
- made it very hot in the middle of the day, and I was very glad indeed of
- the mat awning, though, of course, it was of necessity so low that even I,
- who am a short woman, could not stand up underneath, but it kept off the
- sun, and the air, coming through as we were rowed along, made a little
- breeze. There were rapids, many rapids, but they did not impress me. I
- couldn't even get up a thrill, sometimes indeed the boat was turned
- right round, but it always seemed that the worst that might happen to me
- would be that I should have to get out and walk, and of course get rather
- wet in the process. Tuan made a great fuss about them all, “must
- take care” but the worst <span class="pagenum">335</span><a
- name="link335" id="link335"></a>one of all he was so exceedingly grave
- over that I felt at least we were risking our valuable lives. It was
- inside the wall and was called “Racing Horse Rapid” but it
- wasn't very bad. I have been up much worse rapids on the Volta, in
- West Africa, and nobody seemed to think they were anything out of the
- ordinary, but then the negro has not such a rooted objection to water as
- the Chinaman apparently has. My crew had to get wet, up to their waists
- sometimes, and it was a little rough on them—I remembered it in
- their <i>cumshaw</i>—that having a woman on board their modesty did
- not allow them to strip, and they went in with all their clothes on.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Wall, broken for the passing of the river, is always a wonder, and
- here it was wonderful as ever. We stopped here for a little in order, as
- far as I could make out, that Tuan might get some ragged specimens of
- humanity to pluck a couple of chickens, being too grand a gentleman to do
- it himself, and for a brief space the foreshore was white with feathers,
- for the thrifty Chinaman, who finds a use for everything, once he has made
- feather dusters has no use for feathers. Feather pillows he knows not. But
- for once Tuan's skill in putting the work he was paid for doing, off
- on to other people, failed either to amuse or irritate me. I had eyes for
- nothing but the Wall—the Wall above all other walls still—for
- all it is in ruins. As we went down the river it followed along the tops
- of the highest hills for over a mile. Always the Wall cuts the skyline.
- There is never anything higher than the Wall. And here, as if this river
- valley must be extra well guarded, on every accessible peak was a
- watch-tower. They are all in ruins now, but they speak <span
- class="pagenum">336</span><a name="link336" id="link336"></a>forcibly of
- the watch and ward that was kept here once. There was one square ruin on
- the highest peak. As evening fell, heavy, threatening clouds gathered and
- it stood out against them. As we went far down the valley it was always
- visible, now to the right of us, now to the left, as the river wound, and
- when I thought it was gone in the gathering gloom, a jagged flash of
- lightning, out of the black cloud behind it, illumined it again, and for
- the moment I forgot that it was ruined, and thought only what an excellent
- vantage-point those old-time builders had chosen. All the country round
- must see the beacon fire flaring there. And again I thought of the signals
- that must have gone up, “The Mongols are coming down the river. The
- Manchus are gathering in the hills.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Those heavy clouds bespoke rain, and that night it came down, came down in
- torrents, and if there is a more uncomfortable place in which to be rained
- upon than a small boat I have yet to find it. Those grass mats kept off
- some of the rain, but they were by no means as water-tight as I should
- have liked. I spread my burberry over my bed, put up my umbrella, and
- stopped up the worst leaks with all the towels I could spare, and yet the
- water came in, and on the other side of my calico screen I could hear the
- men making a few remarks, which Tuan told me next day were because,
- “she no can cook dinner, no can dry clothes.” I had lent them
- my charcoal stove, but it was small and would only dry “littee,
- littee clothe” so everybody including myself got up next morning in
- a querulous mood, and very sorry for themselves. The others at least were
- earning their pay, but I wondered how I was <span class="pagenum">337</span><a
- name="link337_rdquo_________id_" id="link337_rdquo_________id_"></a>going
- to make money out of it, and again I questioned the curious fate that sent
- me wandering uncomfortably about the world, and sometimes actually—yes
- actually getting enjoyment out of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- I didn't enjoy that day, however. We went on a little and at length
- we stopped, all the country was veiled in soft moist grey mist, the
- perpetual sunshine of Northern China was gone, and Tuan and the boatman
- came to me. They proposed, of all the Chinese things in this world to do,
- to go back! Why I don't know now, for to go back meant going against
- the stream and towing the boat! A very much harder job than guiding it
- down stream, where it would go of its own weight. I have not often put my
- foot down in China. I have always found it best to let my servants, or
- those I employed, go about things their own way, but this was too much for
- me. I made it clearly understood that the boat belonged to me for the time
- being, and that back I would not go.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tuan murmured something about some place “she get dry” and I
- quite agreed looking at the shivering wretches, but that place had got to
- be ahead, not behind us. However, go on they would not, so we pulled up
- against the bank and all four of them cowered over the little charcoal
- stove till I feared lest they would be asphyxiated with the fumes. I got
- in my bed, pulled my eiderdown round me, and thanked Providence I had it,
- a sleeping bag, and a burberry, and then as best I could I dodged the
- drops that came through the matting, but I knew I wasn't nearly so
- uncomfortable as my men. At last the rain lifted a little, and three
- rueful figures pulled us down to a small, a very <span class="pagenum">338</span><a
- name="link338_rdquo_________id_" id="link338_rdquo_________id_"></a>small
- temple wherein they lighted a fire and cooked themselves a warm meal. By
- that time the rain had gone, and they were smiling and cheerful once more.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the result of that rain the river rose three feet, the rapids were
- easier than ever to go over, only of course there was the risk of hitting
- the rocks that were now submerged, and the waters were muddier than ever.
- I felt as if all those mountain-sides were being washed down into the
- Lanho, as they probably were. All along the banks, too, the people were
- collected gathering—not driftwood, for there was none, but
- driftweed, gathering it in with rakes and dipping-in baskets, holding them
- out for the water to run away and using the residuum “for burn,”
- as Tuan put it. It was dreary, wet, grey, cold. The country grew flatter
- as we came down the river, the hills receded; we were in an agricultural
- country which was benefiting, I doubt not, by this rain, but with the
- mountains went the stern grandeur, and cold rain on a flat country is
- uninspiring. Besides breakfast before five-thirty leaves a long day before
- one, and the incidents were so small. I watched the captain steering and
- refreshing himself with a bite at a pink radish as large and as long as a
- parsnip, and it looked cold and uninviting. Surely I ought to be thankful
- that Fate had not caused me to be born a Chinese of the working classes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain had a large cash-box which reposed trustfully at the end of my
- bed. Not that I could have got into it, for it was fastened with the sort
- of padlock that I should put on park gates, and I certainly couldn't
- have carried it away, at least not unbeknownst, for it was a cube of at
- least eighteen inches. It gave me the idea of great wealth, for never in
- my life do I expect to require a cash-box like that. If I did I should
- give up story writing and grow old with a quiet mind. But then I do not
- take my earnings in copper cash.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0061" id="linkimage-0061"> </a>
- </p>
-
-<div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0478.jpg" alt="0478 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0478.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
-
- <p>
- More and more as we went along the river was I reminded of my idea of
- Babylon—Babylon with the romance taken out of it, Babylon grown
- commonplace. At one place we stopped at, there came down to the ferry a
- short fat man in blue, in a large straw hat, leading a donkey. But he
- belonged to no age, he was Sancho Panza to the life. Again there came a
- gentleman mounted on a mule, his servant following slowly on a small grey
- donkey. He was nicely dressed in darkish petticoats, and his servant wore
- the usual blue. They stood on the river-bank and the servant hailed the
- ferry. With a little difficulty the beasts were got on board and the boat
- poled across. It was just a wupan like my own, decked in the middle so
- that the animals would not have to step down. The donkey came off as if it
- were all in the day's work, but the mule was obstinate, and it took
- the entire population of that little crossing-place, including Tuan and my
- boatmen, to hoist him off. The person most interested, the rider, never
- stirred a finger. True son of Babylon was he. “Let the slaves see to
- all things,” I imagine him saying. There was a little refreshment
- booth, and a man selling long fingers of paste, or rather fried batter. My
- captain handled one thoughtfully and then put it back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doesn't he like it?” I asked Tuan. It seemed to me so
- much nicer than the pink radish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She like,” said Tuan, “too much monies. Very dear,”
- and I think I could have bought up the whole <span class="pagenum">340</span><a
- name="link340_rdquo_________id_" id="link340_rdquo_________id_"></a>stock
- in trade for twenty cents, about fivepence, so the cash-box was a fraud
- after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the hills had receded into the dim distance there were no more rapids,
- and I was back on the great alluvial plain of Northern China once more.
- The sun came out in all his glory, there were innumerable boats, and the
- evening sunlight gleamed on their white sails. Many of them were full of
- people, with many women amongst them, and Tuan told me it was the Dragon
- Boat Festival.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, as the evening shadows were falling, we came to the port of
- Lanchou and my journey in a wupan was ended.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX—A RIVER PORT IN BABYLON
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">341</span><a name="link341" id="link341"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The question of squeeze—Batter fingers for the boatmen—An
- array of damp scarecrows—Ox carts—Prehistoric wheels—A
- decadent people—Beggars—The playing of a part—A side
- show—Cumshaw.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey tell me I must
- not talk about a river port in Babylon, because Babylon was a city not a
- country, and it had no river port, but in that valley of Mesopotamia there
- must have been in those old days, little places where the people living
- along the banks landed their produce, or gathered it in, and I think they
- must have resembled this river port of Lanchou in Chihli, to which I came
- one still pleasant evening in June.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sun was on the point of setting, and I consulted Tuan about where I
- should go for the night. The inns, he opined, would be full, for all the
- country-side had come to the feast, and, in truth, I did not hanker much
- after a Chinese inn. I infinitely preferred the wupan, even at its very
- worst, when the rain was coming through the matting. I only wondered if
- Tuan and the boatmen would think it extremely undignified of me to stay
- where I was. The worst I knew there were the cockroaches, and Heaven only
- knew what I might find in a Chinese inn in June. <span class="pagenum">342</span><a
- name="link342" id="link342"></a>Apparently Tuan did not think it
- undignified, and the boatmen of course were glad.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You pay him one dollar,” suggested Tuan. Now a dollar is a
- thousand cash, and a thousand cash, I suppose would about fill that
- money-box of his. He got the dollar, because I paid it him myself, but
- what squeeze Tuan extracted I am sure I don't know. Some he did get,
- I suppose as of right, for squeeze seems to be the accepted fact in China.
- </p>
- <p>
- A woman once told me how she was offered squeeze and a good big squeeze
- too.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was head of a hospital, and being an attractive young person, she used
- to go out pretty often for motor drives with the locomotive superintendent
- of the nearest railway. The Chinese took note of this, as apparently they
- do of all things likely to concern them, and one day there called upon her
- a Chinaman, well-dressed, of the better class. He stood at the door of her
- sitting-room, shaking his own hands, and bowed three times.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you want?” said she, for she had never to her
- knowledge, seen him before.
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke as good English, almost as she did herself, and he said, well it
- was a little matter in which she might be of service to him, and—yes—he
- of service to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him in astonishment. “But I don't know you,”
- she said, puzzled and surprised.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a matter of oil, he said at last, when he got to the point. It was
- well known that the engines required a great deal of oil, and he had
- several thousands of tons of oil for sale. <span class="pagenum">343</span><a
- name="link343" id="link343"></a>"But what has that to do with me?”
- asked the girl, more surprised than ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- He bowed again. “You are a great friend of ———”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how do you know that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh pardon,” his hand on his heart, “Chinaman know
- everything. You can help me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” she said still wondering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak to Mr ———-. He buy oil,” and he
- looked at her ingratiatingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stared at him, hardly knowing whether to be angry or not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have nothing to do with the locomotives.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, but it will pay you,” said he, and from each side out of
- a long pocket he drew two heavy bags, and planked them down on her
- writing-table. Still she did not understand what he was driving at.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For you,” said he, “for a few words.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, you are offering me squeeze,” said she indignantly, as
- the full meaning of the thing flashed on her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He made a soothing sound with his mouth. “Everybody does it,”
- said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed I don't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not enough?” said he. “There is five hundred and fifty
- dollars there,” and he looked at her questioningly. “Well,”
- thoughtfully, “I can make it two hundred dollars more, I have much
- oil,” and down went another bag of silver. More than six months'
- salary was on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And suppose,” said she, curious, “Mr ————
- pays no attention to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That would be unfortunate,” with a low bow, “but I
- think not. I have much oil. I take risk.” <span class="pagenum">344</span><a
- name="link344_rdquo_________id_" id="link344_rdquo_________id_"></a>Then
- she rose up wrathfully. “Take it away,” she said, “take
- it away. How dare you offer me squeeze!” And he did take it away,
- and as he probably knew her salary to the very last penny, thought her a
- fool for her pains.
- </p>
- <p>
- I don't know whether Tuan extracted his squeeze beforehand, but I
- know all three boatmen had the long fingers of batter fried in lard for
- their breakfast the next morning, for I saw them having them, and Tuan
- informed me with a grin, “Missie pay dollar. Can do,” and I
- was very glad I had not patronised the Chinese inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course I rose very early. Before half-past four I was up and dressed
- and peeping out of my little tent at the rows and rows of boats that lay
- double-banked against the shore. The sun got up as early as I did, and
- most of those people in the boats were up before him. The boats were own
- sisters to the one in which I had come down the river, with one mast, and
- shelters in the middle, and all the people had suffered, as we had done,
- from wet, for such a drying day I have never before seen. All the sails of
- course had to be dried, all the mats, the dilapidated bedding, and it
- seemed most of the clothing, for padded blue coats and trousers were stuck
- on sticks, or laid out in the sun. All the scarecrows that ever I had
- known, had apparently come to grief on that double-banked row of boats.
- The banks were knee-deep in mud, but it was sandy mud that soon dried, and
- by six o'clock business on that shore was in full swing. There was a
- theatre and fair going on close at hand, but business had to be attended
- to all the same. These boatmen all still wear the queue, so the barber was
- very busy, as it is of course impossible to shave on board a boat, and
- even the immaculate Tuan had a fine crop of bristles all over his head.
- They were gone before he gave me breakfast this morning. The alluvial mud
- of the shore was cut into deep cart ruts, and there were any number of
- carts coming down to the boats and going away from them. There were ox
- carts with a solitary ox, harnessed much as a horse would be and looking
- strange to me, accustomed to the bullock drays of Australia with their
- bullocks, ten or twenty of them drawing by a single wooden yoke, there
- were mule carts and carts heavy with merchandise drawn by a mixed team of
- mule, ox, and the small and patient donkey, and the people took from the
- boats their loading of grain, grown far away in Mongolia, of stones,
- gathered by the river-bank, water-worn stones used for making the
- picturesque garden and courtyard paths the Chinese love, and even
- sometimes for building, and of osiers, grown up in the mountains. There
- were piles and piles of these, and men were carrying them slung on the
- ends of their bamboos. And the boats, for the return journey were loaded,
- as far as I could see, with salt and the thin tissue paper they use
- everywhere for the windows, it is much more portable than glass, and
- cotton stuffs, such as even the poorest up in the mountains must buy for
- their clothing. And because it was the Dragon Boat Feast, I suppose, many
- of the boats were full of passengers, people who had started thus early to
- make a day of it, innumerable small-footed women and small, shavenheaded
- children, what little there was left of their hair done up in tiny plaits,
- that stood straight out on end. And all had on their best clothing. Even
- <span class="pagenum">346</span><a name="link346" id="link346"></a>the
- gentleman whose picture I have taken standing under a tree had on a new
- hat of the brightest yellow matting, and I wondered whether the poorer
- folk who thronged the river-side in Mesopotamia, so many long centuries
- ago, were not something like him. The only thing that was modern was the
- railway station and rolling stock, just behind the river-side town, and
- the great iron bridge that spans the river. Modern civilisation come to
- Babylon. It has barely touched the surface though of this age-old
- civilisation. The people who came crowding into the feast came in carts
- with heavy wooden wheels, Punch's prehistoric wheels, exactly as
- their ancestors came, possibly three thousand years ago, and the carts
- were drawn by mules, by oxen, by donkeys, and were covered, some with the
- ordinary blue cloth, some with grass matting, and sometimes, when they
- were open, the women carried umbrellas of Chinese oiled paper, with here
- and there one of ordinary European pattern. And the carts were packed very
- close together indeed, for there were numberless women, and the majority
- of them could only just totter along. For them to walk far or for long,
- would be a sheer impossibility. Country people? No, again I saw it
- strongly, these were serfs, perhaps, but not country people, they were a
- highly civilised people, far more highly civilised than I am who sit in
- judgment, so civilised that they were decadent, effete, and every woman
- was helpless!
- </p>
- <p>
- They crowded round the theatricals that were going on there in the open,
- and all the stalls were crowded together round them too. These sellers
- cannot afford to spread themselves out when half of <span class="pagenum">347</span><a
- name="link347" id="link347"></a>the likely buyers must needs be
- stationary. Never have I seen so many Chinese women of the well-to-do
- class together before. They wore their gayest silks and satins and
- embroidered coats, their hair was elaborately dressed and decked with
- flowers, their faces were painted and powdered, and usually there was on
- them the faintest of impassive smiles. Poor women of modern Babylon,
- maimed and crippled! It was rather a relief to look at the beggars, and
- there were many of them, who, clad in sacking and filthy rags, with wild
- black hair, beat their foreheads in the dust, and made loud moan of their
- sufferings. Everyone plays his part properly in China. It is the beggars'
- to make loud moan, it is the women's to give no hint of the cruel
- suffering that has made childhood and youth a torture, and left the
- dreadful aftermath behind it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0062" id="linkimage-0062"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0488.jpg" alt="0488 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0488.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- I had plenty of time to see everything, for the train was not due till
- eleven, and when it grew too hot to stay in the open any longer, I went on
- to the platform and sat in the shade, and formed a sort of side show to
- the fair, for so many people crowded round to look at the foreign woman,
- and they had more than what a servant of one of my friends called “a
- littee stink,” that at last the station policeman, who was really a
- soldier guarding the line, came and cleared them away drastically with
- drawn sword, and I explained, as best I could, that on this great
- occasion, I hadn't the least objection to being a show, for very
- likely many of these people had come from beyond the beaten tracks, from
- places where foreigners were scarce, but I must have sufficient air.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tuan got the tickets, and then I suppose, seeing his time was short, for
- we should be in Peking by seven, and should certainly part, he relieved
- his mind and asked a question that had evidently been burning there ever
- since we had left the mission station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Missie have pay mission boys <i>cumshaw?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the <i>cumshaw</i> had been a difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- My hostess had come to me and said: “I know you are going to give a
- <i>cumshaw</i>. I may as well tell you that if our visitors don't we
- always do ourselves, because the servants expect it, but I am come to beg
- of you not to give too much and to give it through us. In fact the cook
- went for his holiday last night and we gave him eighty cents and said it
- was from you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eighty cents!” I was afraid those servants would think me
- very mean. But my hostess was very fluent on the subject, and very
- determined. The majority of their visitors could not possibly afford to
- give much, and they were very anxious not to establish a precedent. What
- was I to do? I might have supplemented it through Tuan, but I felt it
- would be making a poor return to the people who had been so kind to me, so
- I was obliged to let it go at that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I pay Missie, she give <i>cumshaw</i> for me,” said I to
- Tuan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said that worthy, as if he had settled a doubt
- satisfactorily in his own mind, “boy say Missie pay eighty cent, I
- say, not my Missie, she give five, ten dollar, always give five, ten
- dollar, your Missie give eighty cent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And as I went on my way to Peking, across the plain in its summer dress of
- lush green kaoliang, I wondered sorrowfully if all the return I had made
- for the kindness received was to have those missionaries accused of
- pocketing the <i>cumshaw</i> I was supposed to have given.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I was glad to come back, glad not to think any more of the Chinaman as
- a creature whose soul had to be saved, glad to come back to my ordinary
- associates who were ordinarily worldly and selfish, and felt that they
- might drink a whisky-and-soda and consider their own enjoyment, though
- there were a few hundred million people in outer darkness around them. The
- majority of us cannot live in the rarefied atmosphere that demands
- constant sacrifice and abnegation for the sake of those we do not and
- cannot love.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX—THE WAYS OF THE CHINESE SERVANT
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">350</span><a name="link350" id="link350"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>The heat of Peking—-The wall by moonlight—Tongshan—“Your
- devoted milkman”—The eye of the mistress—A little fort—In
- case of an outbreak—The Temple of the Sleeping Buddha—A
- runaway bride—The San Shan An—My own temple courtyard—The
- missing outfit—The Language Officer—Friends in need.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was David, I
- think, who said in his haste, that all men are liars, but I suppose he was
- right, if he meant as he probably did, that at one time or another, we are
- all of us given to making rash statements. I expect it would be a rash
- statement to say that Peking in the summer is the hottest place in the
- world, and that the heat of West Africa, that much-maligned land, is
- nothing to it, and yet, even when I think over the matter at my leisure, I
- know that the heat, for about six weeks, is something very hard to bear. I
- suspect it is living in a stone house inside the city walls that makes it
- so hot. Could I have slept in the open I might have taken a different
- view. I slept, or rather I did not sleep, with two windows wide open, and
- an electric fan going, but, since Peking mosquitoes are of the very
- aggressive order, bred in the imperial canal, the great open drain that
- runs through the city, it was always necessary to keep the mosquito
- curtains drawn. If anyone doubts that a house with mosquito-proof <span
- class="pagenum">351</span><a name="link351" id="link351"></a>windows and
- doors is an airless death-trap, let him try and sleep under mosquito
- curtains, while hoping for a breath of cool air from the electric fan.
- Fully half the air is cut off, but as the mosquito curtains are raised
- during the daytime, the air over the bed is renewed daily. In that
- abomination a mosquito-proof house, it is never renewed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Since it was a choice between little air and plenty of mosquitoes. I chose
- the shortage of air, and generally went to bed with a deep soup plate full
- of cold water, and a large sponge. It made the bed decidedly wet, but that
- was an advantage.
- </p>
- <p>
- I did not go away because the war had started between the North and the
- South, and no one knew exactly what was going to happen. To be at the
- heart of things is often to be too close, wiser eyes than mine saw
- nothing. Once there was a rumour that the Southern army would march on
- Peking, and that promised excitement, but in the city itself, though there
- was martial law, there was no excitement, and the only pleasant thing to
- do was to go on moonlight evenings and sit on the wall. There was a cool
- breath of air there, if there was anywhere, and at any rate the moonlight
- lent it a glamour, and the fireflies, that came out after the rain, gave
- the added touch that made it fairyland.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at last the heat was too much even for me, who am not wont to complain
- of whatever sort of weather is doled out to me, and I accepted the
- invitation of a friend to stay at Tongshan, which is a great railway
- centre, a place where there is a coal mine, and some large cement works
- run by capable and efficient Germans.
- </p>
- <p>
- And at Tongshan I lived in the house that was <span class="pagenum">352</span><a
- name="link352" id="link352"></a>held for defence during the Boxer trouble.
- The barrier at the gate—the barrier that is at the gate of all
- Chinese houses, to keep off evil spirits, who can only move in a straight
- line—was so curious that I took a photograph of it, and against the
- walls that surround the grounds were the look-out places which the
- railwaymen manned, and from which they kept watch and ward.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have always liked the feeling of living in a fort—a place where
- men have helped to make history, but I have observed that it is always the
- immediate trifle that is to the fore that counts, and my friend's
- servants were a perpetual joy and delight to me. They used to write her
- letters. There was one, a touching one, from the milkman I shall remember
- with joy. A “cunningful” cook had misrepresented him, and he
- wished to be taken into favour again, and he signed himself distractedly
- “Your devoted milkman.” The cow was brought round so that it
- might be milked before the eyes of the buyer, and only a Chinaman, surely,
- would have been capable of concealing a bottle of water up his sleeves and
- letting it run slowly down his arm as he milked, so that the cow was
- unjustly accused of giving very poor milk. Besides, when the cow's
- character was cleared, who knew from where that water had been taken, and
- how much dirt it had washed off the arm down which it ran. No pleading
- took that milkman into favour again, despite the tenderness expressed in
- his signature. Another man had been away, and returning, wished a small
- job as watchman at six dollars a month, and begging for it by letter, he
- signed himself fervently “Your own Ah Foo.” But the crowning
- boy was the No. 1 boy. He was a <span class="pagenum">353</span><a
- name="link353" id="link353"></a>delicious person without intending it.
- When first my friend engaged him, she acquired at the same time a small
- dog, and she soon realised that the rigorous Chinese winter was hard on
- dogs, and that Ben must have a little coat. The question was how to make
- the coat. No. 1 boy came to the rescue.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr ——— at the railway station had a dog, and “Marcus,”
- said the boy, “have two coats.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh well borrow one and copy it,” said his mistress, relieved.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My tink,” said the boy confidentially, and he sank his voice,
- “Missie bolly, more better not send back.” And he looked at
- her to see if this wisdom would sink in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marcus have two coats,” repeated he reproachfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0063" id="linkimage-0063"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0496.jpg" alt="0496 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0496.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The owner of Marcus, on the story being told to him, when the coat was
- borrowed with every assurance it should be returned, admitted that if
- occasionally he saw among his accounts a coat for Marcus he always paid
- for it, and supposed the old one had worn out. Thinking it over, he
- thought perhaps he had supplied a friend or two, or more possibly his
- friends' servants. No. 1 boy made a mistake in taking his mistress
- into his confidence, instead of charging her for “one piecey dog
- coat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But, of course that is the trouble with Missies, as compared with Masters,
- they have such inquiring minds. There was once a man of violent temper who
- was in the habit of letting off steam on his No. 1 boy. He abused him
- roundly, and even beat him whenever he felt out of sorts, yet greatly to
- the surprise of all his friends, the boy put up with him, and made him a
- very excellent servant. Presently he married, and then, much to his
- surprise, before a month was out the boy, who had been faithful and
- long-suffering for so long, came and gave notice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why?” asked the astonished man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Master beat,” said the boy laconically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “D——n it,” said the man, “I've beaten
- you a dozen times before. Why do you complain now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before time,” explained the boy solemnly, “when Master
- beat, my put down one dollar, sugar, one dollar flour. Now Missie come, no
- can. My go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not mind a beating so long as he could make his master pay for it,
- but when an inquiring mistress questioned these little items for groceries
- that she knew had never been used, he gave up the place, he could no
- longer get even with his master. It was a truly Chinese way of looking at
- things.
- </p>
- <p>
- These were some of the stories they told me in the house they had
- fortified against the Boxers and held till the ships sent them a guard.
- And once the sailors came there was no more danger, It was the luckless
- country people who feared. The older men pitied and understood the
- situation, but the mischievous young midshipmen took a fearful joy in
- scaring the problematical enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who goes there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Belong my,” answered the shivering coolie, endeavouring to
- slip past, and in deadly terror that the pointed rifle would go off. They
- were ground between two millstones those unfortunate peasants. The Boxers
- harried them, and then the foreigners came and avenged their wrongs on
- these who had done probably no harm. Always it is these helpless serfs who
- suffer in case of war. Other classes may suffer—these are sure to.
- </p>
- <p>
- They will never hold this house again should necessity arise, for the well
- that gave them water has gone dry.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course everyone hopes and says, that the necessity never will arise
- again but for all that, they are not, the foreign settlers in China, quite
- as certain of their safety as one would be in a country town in England,
- for instance. They came in to afternoon tea and tennis, men and women, and
- they gave all attention to the amusement in hand, a lighthearted, cheerful
- set of people, and then one little speech and one saw there was another
- side. There was always the <i>might be</i>. Everything was going on as
- usual, everywhere around were peaceable, subservient people, and yet—and
- yet terrible things had happened in the past, who could say if they would
- not happen again. Every now and again, not dominating the conversation,
- but running a subcurrent to it, would come up the topic of the
- preparations they had made in case of “another outbreak.”
- </p>
- <p>
- One woman kept a box of clothes at Tientsin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder you don't,” she said looking at her hostess.
- “No, my dear, don't you remember yet, I never take sugar.
- Thank you. You ought to think about it, you know. It is really so awkward
- if one has to rush away in a hurry to find oneself without clothes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Another woman laughed, and yet she was very much in earnest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's not the first thing to worry about. There, that was
- vantage to them,” she interpolated, taking an interest in the game
- of tennis, “that young <span class="pagenum">356</span><a
- name="link356" id="link356"></a>woman's going to make a nice little
- player. No, what I think is that the place they have chosen to hold is far
- too far away. Want your clothes in Tientsin? I'm not at all sure you'll
- get over that mile and a half from your house in safety, and I've
- farther still to go, with two little children too. Why don't you get
- your husband to——— Oh there they've finished! Now
- have I time for another set?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's after six.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious! And baby to bath! I must go. You speak to your
- husband about another place, my dear. He'll have some influence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I wouldn't try to hold any place again,” said my
- host, thinking of the past, “I should be on the train and off to
- Tientsin at the first hint of danger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But suppose you couldn't get away in time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, of course, that's possible,” he said
- thoughtfully, “and the Chinese are beggars at pulling up railways.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I listened, and then I understood how people get used to contemplating a
- danger that is only possible, and not actually impending.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If anything happens to Yuan Shih K'ai,” but then, of
- course, though that is not only a possible, but even a probable danger,
- everyone hopes that nothing will happen to Yuan Shih K'ai, just as
- if anything did happen to him, they would hope things would not be as bad
- as they had feared, and if their worst fears were realised, then they
- would hope that they would be the lucky ones who would not be overwhelmed.
- This is human nature, at least one side of human nature, the side of human
- nature that has made of the British a great colonising people. The autumn
- was coming, the golden, glowing <span class="pagenum">357</span><a
- name="link357" id="link357"></a>autumn of Northern China, so, coming back
- to Peking, I determined to find out some place where I could enjoy its
- beauties and write the book which my publisher expected. Most people seem
- to think that the writing of a book is a mere question of plenty of time,
- a good pen, paper, and ink. “You press the button, we do the rest,”
- promises a certain firm that makes cameras; but I do not find either
- writing or taking photographs quite so simple a matter as all that. To do
- either, even as well as I can, I want to be by myself, for I am a sociable
- being, I do love the society of my kind, to talk to them, to exchange
- ideas with them, and when I am doing that, I cannot give the time and
- attention it requires to writing. Everyone who writes in China, and anyone
- who writes at all is moved to take pen in hand to try and elucidate its
- mysteries, wants to write in a temple in the Western Hills. I was no
- exception to the rule. The Western Hills, whose rugged outlines you can
- see from Peking, called me, and I set out to look for a temple. It was
- going to be easy enough to get one, for “Legation” Peking goes
- to the hills in the summer, and when autumn holds the land goes back to
- the joys of city life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first I inspected was the Temple of the Sleeping Buddha, a temple
- which has many courtyards, and a figure of the Buddha, peacefully
- sleeping. An emblem of peace looks the great bronze figure. He is, of
- course, represented clothed, only his feet are bare, and the faithful
- bring him offerings of shoes, rows and rows of shoes there were on a shelf
- at the side of the temple, some colossal, three or four feet long, and
- some tiny, some made after the fashion of the ordinary Chinese shoe, of
- silk or <span class="pagenum">358</span><a name="link358" id="link358"></a>quilted
- satin, but some make-believe, and very excellent make-believe, of paper.
- Looking at them I could not have told the difference, and as the Buddha's
- eyes are shut, he could not even go as far as that. He certainly could not
- put them on, for his feet are pressed closely together, the feet of a
- profoundly sleeping man. All is peace here. Here there is no trouble, no
- anxiety, that sleeping figure seems to say.
- </p>
- <p>
- But there was for all that. Where in the world is there no trouble?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0064" id="linkimage-0064"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0504.jpg" alt="0504 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0504.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- It takes about three and a half hours to reach the Sleeping Buddha Temple
- from Peking. First I took a rickshaw across the city. Then from the
- northwest gate, the Hsi Chih Men, still by rickshaw, I went to the Summer
- Palace, and I did the remaining five miles into the heart of the hills on
- a donkey. I don't like riding a donkey, five miles on a donkey on an
- uncomfortable Chinese saddle, riding astride, wearies me to death, and
- when I was just thinking life was no longer worth living I arrived, and
- wandered into a courtyard where, at the head of some steps, stood a little
- Chinese girl. She was dressed in the usual dress of a girl of the better
- classes, a coat and trousers, like a man usually wears with us, only the
- coat had a high collar standing up against her cheeks, and because she was
- unmarried, she wore her hair simply drawn back from her face and plaited
- in a long tail down her back, much as an English schoolgirl wears it. She
- made me a pretty, shy salutation, and called to her friend the
- Englishwoman, who had rented the courtyard, and who was living here while
- she painted pictures. This lady was returning to Peking she said, next
- day, but she <span class="pagenum">359</span><a name="link359" id="link359"></a>very
- kindly invited me to luncheon, and she told me the Chinese girl's
- story. She was practically in hiding. She had been betrothed, of course,
- years before to some boy she had never seen, and this year the time had
- arrived for the carrying out of the contract. But young China is beginning
- to think it has rights and objects to being disposed of in marriage
- without even a chance to protest. It would not be much good the boy
- running away, however much he objected to the matrimonial plans his family
- had made for him, for he could be married quite easily in his absence, a
- cock taking his place; but it beats even the Chinese to have a marriage
- without a bride, therefore the girl had run away. The time was past and
- the contract had not been carried out. Poor little girl! It surprised me
- that so shy and quiet a little girl had found courage to defy authority
- and run away, even though she had found out that her betrothed was as
- averse from the marriage as she was. She had unbound her feet, as if to
- signalise her freedom; but alas, the arch of her foot was broken, and she
- could never hope to be anything but flat-footed, still that was better
- than walking with stiff knees, on her heels, as if her legs were a couple
- of wooden pegs like the majority of her fellow-countrywomen. The woman who
- was befriending her suggested, as I was taking a temple in the hills, I
- should give her sanctuary. That was all very well, but the care of a
- helpless being, like a Chinese girl, is rather an undertaking. I consulted
- a friend who had been in China many years, and he was emphatic on the
- subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no. Never have anything to do with a woman in China until
- she is well over forty. You <span class="pagenum">360</span><a
- name="link360_rdquo_________id_" id="link360_rdquo_________id_"></a>don't
- know the trouble you will let yourself in for. Chinese women!” And
- he held up his hands. So it appears that the secluded life does not make
- them all that they ought to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, while I was considering the matter, some woman in Peking, kinder
- and less cautious than I, stepped in and the little girl has found an
- asylum, and is, I am assured by a friend, all right, and better off than
- hundreds of her people. True she easily might be that, and yet not have
- attained to much.
- </p>
- <p>
- I always seem to be talking of the condition of the Chinese women, like
- King Charles's head, it comes into everything. After all, the
- condition and status of half the nation must be always cropping up when
- one considers the people at all. “Chinese women,” said a man,
- “are past-mistresses in false modesty.” And again I thought
- what a commentary on a nation. To Western eyes how it marks the subjection
- and the ignorance of the women.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the first baby is coming, the bride is supposed, though it would be a
- tragedy beyond all words if she had no children, to be too shy to tell her
- husband, or even her mother-in-law, so she puts on bracelets, and then the
- family know that this woman, at least, is about to fulfil her destiny. I
- hope the little Chinese girl I found up in the Temple of the Sleeping
- Buddha will yet marry, marry someone she chooses herself, will not need to
- pluck out the front hairs on her forehead, and will be on such terms with
- her husband, that though she may with pride put on the bracelets, she may
- rejoice openly that their love is crowned. I do not think there will be
- any false modesty about her. <span class="pagenum">361</span><a
- name="link361" id="link361"></a>But I did not take a courtyard in the
- Sleeping Buddha Temple. It was rented by the Y.M.C.A. and I think that,
- combined with the donkey ride, put me off. I felt I would rather go
- farther afield, farther away from the traces of the foreigner, and I could
- have my pick of temples in September. I took the San Shan An, in another
- valley, one of the lovely valleys of the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- The San Shan An is only a small temple with a central courtyard and two or
- three smaller ones, and I agreed to take it for the sum of twenty-eight
- dollars a month. I engaged a cook and a boy, the boy's English was
- scanty and the cook had none, but I only paid the two twenty-four dollars
- a month, six dollars less than the valued Tuan had all to himself, and one
- day in September I saw my household gods on to two carts, went myself by
- train, and got out at the first station at the Western Hills.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had taken the precaution, as I had no Chinese, and I did not expect to
- meet anybody who understood English, to have the name of the temple
- written out in Chinese characters, and descending from the train, after a
- little trouble I found one among the wondering crowd who could read, and
- all that crowd, a dirty little crowd, took an interest in my further
- movements. They immediately supplied me with donkeys and boys to choose
- from, and I had the greatest difficulty in explaining that I did not want
- a donkey, all I wanted was a guide. The only one who seemed to grasp it
- was a very ragged individual who, with basket under his arm, and scoop in
- hand, was gathering manure. He promptly seized my dispatch-box, all the
- luggage I carried, and we started, pursued by disappointed boys with
- donkeys, <span class="pagenum">362</span><a name="link362" id="link362"></a>who
- could not believe that the foreign woman was actually going to walk in the
- wake of a man who gathered manure. I must confess it was a most humble
- procession, even in my eyes, who am not accustomed to standing on my
- dignity. My only sister had given me that dispatch-case as a parting
- present, and it looked wonderfully rich and cultured in the very grimy
- hand that grasped it so triumphantly. I should never have had the heart to
- turn that old man away, he looked so pleased at having got a job. Off he
- went, and we walked for over an hour across a flat and rough country,
- where the kaoliang had been gathered on to the threshing floors, and all
- the people this gorgeous hot autumn day were at work there.
- </p>
- <p>
- A threshing floor in the East makes one think of Ruth and Boaz, and
- possibly these people were not unlike those who worked on that threshing
- floor in Judah so long ago, only they were dirty and poor, and not comely
- as we picture the Moabitish beauty. It was hot as we walked, and I grew a
- little doubtful as we approached the hills—were we going in the
- right direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “San Shan Erh,” said my guide, and he repeated it, and I grew
- more doubtful, for I did not know then that these hill people say, “San
- Shan Erh” where a more cultivated man would say “San Shan An,”
- it is very Pekingese to have many “r's” to roll. He
- combined business with pleasure, or rather he combined his business, and
- whenever he came across a patch of manure, he gathered it in, and I waited
- patiently. At last we came to the entrance of a well-wooded valley, and a
- well-wooded valley is a precious thing in China, and we went up a roughly
- <span class="pagenum">363</span><a name="link363" id="link363"></a>flagged
- pathway, flagged, I dare say, a couple of hundred years ago or more, a
- steep pathway by a graveyard, and between the trees that were just taking
- on a tinge of autumn gold, we arrived at a plateau built up with stones,
- and along beneath some trees we entered a gate and came into a square
- brick paved courtyard surrounded by low, one-storied buildings, and with
- four pine-trees raising their dark green branches against the deep blue
- sky. I had seen so many temple courtyards, and now here was one, that for
- a space, was to be my very own. In China, it seems, the gods always make
- preparation for taking in guests—at a price.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0065" id="linkimage-0065"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0510.jpg" alt="0510 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0510.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- But was this my temple?
- </p>
- <p>
- My heart sank, as for a moment I realised what a foolish thing I had done.
- I had supposed, after my usual fashion, that everything would go smoothly
- for me, and now at the very outset, things were going wrong, and I knew I
- was helpless. Two men in blue, of the coolie class, old, and very, very
- dirty, looked at me, and talked unintelligibly to my guide, and he, very
- intelligibly, demanded his <i>cumshaw</i>, but there was no sign of my
- possessions.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the moment I feared, feared greatly, I was entirely alone, what might
- not happen to me? I might not even have been brought to the right temple,
- for all I knew. In bridge, when doubtful they say play to win, so I
- decided I must act as if everything was all right, and I paid my guide his
- <i>cumshaw</i>, saw him go, and not quite as happy as I should have liked
- to have been, inspected the temple. There was one big room that I decided
- would do me for a living-room, if this were really my temple, as it had a
- sort of little veranda or <span class="pagenum">364</span><a
- name="link364_rdquo_________id_" id="link364_rdquo_________id_"></a>look-out
- place, which stood out on the cliff side overlooking the place of tombs,
- and the plain where in the distance, about twelve miles as the crow flies,
- I could see in the clear atmosphere the walls of Peking. They might as
- well have been a hundred, I thought ruefully, for all the help I was
- likely to get from that city to-night, if this were not really my temple.
- </p>
- <p>
- A Chinese temple is sparsely furnished. All the rooms had stone floors,
- all of them opened into the courtyard and not into one another, and for
- all furniture there were the usual k'angs, two cupboards, three
- tables, and three uncomfortable Chinese chairs. I had hired an easy chair,
- a lamp, and with my camp outfit I expected to manage. But where was my
- camp outfit?
- </p>
- <p>
- I could not understand a word of what the people said, but they seemed
- friendly, they well might be, I thought, I was entirely at their mercy,
- and a very dirty old gentleman with claw-like hands, an unshaven head, and
- the minutest of queues came and contemplated me in a way which was
- decidedly disconcerting. I went and looked at the gods, dusty and dirty
- too in their sanctuaries. There was a most musical bell alongside one of
- them and when I struck it, the clang seemed to emphasise my loneliness and
- helplessness. Could this be the right temple? If it was not where was I to
- go? There was no means of getting back to Peking, short of walking, even
- then the gates must be shut long before I arrived. As far as I knew, there
- was no foreigner left in the hills. I went on to the look-out place, and
- looked out over the plain, and the old man came and looked at me, and I
- grew more and more uncomfortable. <span class="pagenum">365</span><a
- name="link365" id="link365"></a>Tiffin time was long past, afternoon tea
- time came and went. It had been warm enough in the middle of the day, but
- the evenings grow chill towards the end of September, and I had only a
- white muslin gown on. At the very best the prospect of sleeping on one of
- those cold and stony k'angs did not look inviting. I could have
- cried as the shadows grew long and the sun set.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, oh joy, down beneath me, out on the hill-side, I heard a voice,
- an unmistakable American voice. I had been terrified, and like a flash my
- terrors rolled away. I looked over and there were a man and a woman taking
- an evening stroll, very much at home, for neither of them had on a hat. I
- forgot in a moment I had been afraid and I hailed them at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this the San Shan An?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure,” said the man as they looked up in surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, that was a relief anyhow, and I thought how foolish I had been to be
- afraid. But where were the carts?
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger said they ought to have arrived hours ago, and then they bid
- me good-bye, and I waited once more. I was uncomfortable now—I was
- no longer afraid. At least not till it grew dark, and then, I must
- confess, the place seemed to me strangely eerie. The sun was set, the moon
- was old, and not due till the morning, the faint wind moaned through the
- pine-branches, and the darkness was full of all sorts of strange,
- mysterious, unexplainable sounds. It was cold, cold, and the morning and
- the light were a good eleven hours off.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, just as I was in the depths of despair, there <span class="pagenum">366</span><a
- name="link366" id="link366"></a>was a commotion in the courtyard, a
- lantern flashed on the trunks of the pine-trees, and a kindly American
- voice out of the darkness said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I had better come down and see if your outfit had turned
- up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is not a sign of it.” I wonder if there was relief in
- my voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, so the people here tell me, and they are in rather a way about
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So that was why the dirty old gentleman had apparently been stalking me.
- It had never occurred to me that these people could be troubled about me,
- this was a new and kindly light on Chinese character.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps you'll come along with me,” went on my new
- friend. “I've got two ladies staying with me from Tientsin,
- and they'll do the best they can for you for the night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bless him, bless him, I could have hugged him. Go, of course I went
- thankfully, and with his lantern, he guided me over the steepest and
- roughest of mountain paths till we came to his temple, a much bigger one
- than mine.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought there was no one left in the hills,” I said as we
- went along.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm going next week,” he said, “but I love this
- valley. There is only one lovelier in the world—the one I was born
- in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where is that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Delaware Valley. These people,” he went on, “are
- mightily relieved to hear I am going to keep you for the night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again I thanked him, and indeed he and his friends were friends in need.
- “And I cannot make them understand like you do,” I said a
- little futilely. <span class="pagenum">367</span><a name="link367"
- id="link367"></a>"Well, I ought to,” he laughed. “I'm
- the Language Officer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He decided my carts had had time to come from Peking and go back again,
- and they must have gone up the wrong valley, and he and his friends took
- me in and fed me, and comforted me, so that I was ready to laugh at my
- woes, and then, just as we were finishing an excellent dinner, there
- appeared on the terrace, where we were dining, an agitated individual with
- a guttering candle, my boy, whom I hardly knew by sight yet.
- </p>
- <p>
- He told a tale of woe and suffering. According to him, the road to Jehol
- must have been nothing to that road from Peking to the Western Hills, and
- I and my new friends went down to inspect what was left of my outfit.
- There wasn't much in it that was smashable, and beyond salad oil in
- the bread and kerosene in the salt, there was not much damage done. I
- could not understand though how they had come to grief at all, for the
- loads were certainly light for two carts, and once in the hills, of
- course, the goods were carried by men. And then the truth dawned on me. It
- was the way of a Chinese servant all over. I had been foolish enough to
- give my boy the five dollars to pay for the two carts. He had made one do,
- and pocketed two dollars fifty cents. I asked him if such were not the
- case.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sah,” said he, and I wondered, till I found that he
- always said “Yes, sah,” whether he understood me or not. More
- often than not he did not understand, but that “sah” made me
- understand he had learned his little English from a countryman of my
- friend, the Language Officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- And after all I think I was glad of the little adventure. I had not
- realised how eerie a temple would be all by myself at night, and it was
- good to think that for a night or two at least there would be people of my
- own colour within a quarter of an hour of me on the hill-side.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0066" id="linkimage-0066"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0518.jpg" alt="0518 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0518.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI—FROM THE SAN SHAN AN
- </h2>
- <h3>
- <span class="pagenum">369</span><a name="link369" id="link369"></a>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>An old temple—Haunted—Wolf with green eyes—Loneliness—Death
- of missionaries—Fear—Sanctuaries—“James Buchanan”—Valiant
- farmers—Autumn tints—Famous priest—Sacrifice of
- disciples—Tree conserving—Camels at my gate—Servants—“Cook
- book”—Enchanted hills—Cricket cages—Kindly people—The
- fall of Belshazzar—Hope for the future.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd with two
- servants and the temple coolies to wait upon me I settled down in the San
- Shan An, the Temple of the Three Mountains, the oldest temple in this
- valley of temples, built long ago in the Sung Dynasty. They said it was
- haunted, haunted by the ghost of a big snake, and when the mud from the
- roof fell as so much dust on the stone floor, and over me, my tables and
- chairs and bed, my boy stretched out his arms and explained that the snake
- had done it. The snake, I found, always accounted for dust. When my jam
- and butter disappeared, and I suspected human agency, he said in his
- pidgin-English, “I tink—I tink——” and then
- words failed him, and he broke out into spelling, “I tink it R—A—T.”
- Why he could spell that word and not pronounce it I do not know, but until
- I left I did not know that the snake that lived in my roof was
- supernatural. I don't think even I could be afraid of the ghost of a
- snake. The temple up above, the Language <span class="pagenum">370</span><a
- name="link370_rdquo_________id_" id="link370_rdquo_________id_"></a>Officer's
- temple, was haunted by a wolf with green eyes, and that would have been a
- different matter. I am glad I did not dare the wolf with green eyes. For I
- was all by myself. The Language Officer, the Good Samaritan, went back to
- Peking, and, except at week-ends, when I persuaded a friend or two to
- dissipate my loneliness, I was the only foreigner in the valley. Go back
- to Peking until the work I had set myself to do was done, I determined I
- would not. It has been a curious and lonely existence away in the hills,
- in the little temple embosomed in trees, among a people who speak not a
- word of my language; but it had its charm. I had my camp-bed set up on the
- little platform looking out over the place of tombs, with the great Peking
- plain beyond, and there, while the weather was warm, I had all my meals,
- and there, warm or cold, I always slept. When the evening shadows fell I
- was lonely, I was worse than lonely, all that I had missed in life came
- crowding before my eyes, all the years seemed empty, wasted, all the
- future hopeless, and I went to bed and tried to sleep, if only to forget.
- </p>
- <p>
- And China is not a good place in which to try the lonely life. There are
- too many tragic histories associated with it, and one is apt to remember
- them at the wrong times. Was I afraid at night? I was, I think, a little,
- but then I am so often afraid, and so often my fears are false, that I
- have learned not to pay much attention to them. I knew very well that the
- Legations would not have allowed me, without a word of warning, to take a
- temple in the hills, had there been any likelihood of danger, but still,
- when the evening shadows fell, I could not but remember <span
- class="pagenum">371</span><a name="link371" id="link371"></a>once again,
- Sir Robert Hart's dictum, and that if anything did happen, I was cut
- off here from all my kind. It was just Fear, the Fear that one
- personifies, but another time, if I elect to live by myself among an alien
- people, I do not think I will improve my mind by reading first any account
- of the atrocities those people have perpetrated at no very remote period.
- As the darkness fell I was apt to start and look over my shoulder at any
- unexplainable sound, to remember these things and to hope they would not
- happen again, which is first cousin to fearing they would. At Pao Ting Fu,
- not far from here as distances in China go, during the Boxer trouble, the
- Boxers attacked the missionaries, both in the north and the south suburb,
- just outside the walls of the town. In the north suburb the Boxers and
- their following burned those missionaries to death in their houses,
- because they would not come out. They dared not. Think how they must have
- feared, those men and women in the prime of their life, when they stayed
- and faced a cruel death from which there was no escape, rather than chance
- the mercies of the mob outside. One woman prayed them to save her baby
- girl, her little, tender Margaret, not a year old, her they might kill,
- and her husband, and her two little boys, but would no one take pity on
- the baby, the baby that as yet could not speak. But though many of those
- who heard her prayer and repeated it, pitied, they did not dare help. It
- is a notable Chinese characteristic—obedience to orders—and
- the lookers-on thought that those in authority having ordered the
- slaughter of the missionaries it was not their part to interfere. They
- told afterwards how, as a brute rushed up the <span class="pagenum">372</span><a
- name="link372" id="link372"></a>stairs, the mother, desperate, seized a
- pistol that lay to her hand and shot him. I am always glad she did that.
- And others told, how, through the mounting flames, they could see her
- husband walking up and down, leading his two little boys by the hand,
- telling them—ah, what could any man say under such terrible
- circumstances as that.
- </p>
- <p>
- And in the south suburb the missionary doctor was true almost to the
- letter of the faith he preached. As the mob surrounded him, he took a
- revolver, showed them how perfect was his command over the weapon, how he
- could have dealt death right and left, and then he tossed it aside and
- submitted to their wicked will, and they took him and cut off his head.
- But the fate of the women always horrified me most. It was that that
- seemed most terrible in the dusk of the evening. They took two of the
- unmarried women, and one was too terrified to walk—having once seen
- a Chinese crowd, filthy, horrible and always filthy and horrible even when
- they are friendly, one realises what it must be to be in their power, one
- understands that girl's shrinking terror. Her they tied, hands and
- feet together, and slung her from a pole, exactly as they carry pigs to
- market. Is this too terrible a thing to write down for everyone to read?
- It almost seems to me it is. If so forgive me. I used to think about it
- those evenings alone in the San Shan An. And one of those women, they say,
- was always brave, and gave to a little child her last little bit of money
- as she walked to her death, and the other, who was so terrified at first,
- recovered herself, and walked courageously as they led her to execution
- outside the city walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I thought of those women I was ashamed <span class="pagenum">373</span><a
- name="link373" id="link373"></a> of the Fear that made me afraid to look
- behind me in the dark, made me listen intently for unusual sounds, and
- hear a thousand unexplainable ones. I, in the broad daylight, went and
- looked in the two sanctuaries that were at each end of my courtyard, each
- with an image and altar in it. In both were stored great matting bundles
- of Spanish chestnuts, and in the larger, oh sacrilege! oh bathos! was my
- larder, and I saw eggs, and meat, and cabbage, and onions, coming out of
- it, but I do not think anything could have induced me to go into those
- places after nightfall. I ask myself why—I wonder—but I find
- no answer. The gods were only images, the dust and dirt of long years was
- upon them, they were dead, dead, and yet I, the most modern of women was
- afraid—at night I was afraid, the fear that seems to grow up with us
- all was upon me. By and by a friend sent me out “James Buchanan”—a
- small black and white k'ang dog, about six inches high, but his
- importance must by no means be measured by his size. I owe much gratitude
- to James Buchanan for he is a most cheerful and intelligent companion. I
- intended to part with him when I left the hills, but I made him love me,
- and then to my surprise, I found I loved him, and he must share my varying
- fortunes. But what is a wandering woman, like I am, to do with a little
- dog?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0067" id="linkimage-0067"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0524.jpg" alt="0524 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0524.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- We went for walks together up and down the hill-sides, and the people got
- to know us, and laughed and nodded as we passed. The Chinese seem fond of
- animals, and yet you never see a man out for a walk with his dog. A man
- with a bird-cage in his hand, taking birdie for a walk, is a common <span
- class="pagenum">374</span><a name="link374" id="link374"></a>sight in
- China, so common that you forget to notice it, but I have never seen a man
- followed by a dog, though most of the farm-houses appear to have one or
- two to guard them. Here, in the hills, they were just the ordinary, ugly
- <i>wonks</i> one sees in Peking, not nearly such handsome beasts as I saw
- up in the mountains. The farms in these hills evidently require a good
- deal of guarding, for I would often hear the crack of a gun. Some farmer,
- so my friend, the Language Officer, told me, letting the “stealer
- man,” and anyone else whom it might concern, know that he had
- fire-arms and was prepared to use them. At first the reports used to
- startle me, and make me look out into the darkness of the hill-side,
- darkness deepened here and there by a tiny light, and I used to wonder if
- anything was wrong. “Buchanan” always regarded those reports
- as entirely out of place, and said so at the top of his small voice. But
- then he was always challenging <i>wonks</i>, or finding “stealer
- men,” so I paid no attention to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the first red streak of dawn, for the temple faced the east, I wakened.
- And all my fears, the dim, mysterious, unexplainable fears born of the
- night, and the loneliness, and the old temple, were gone, rolled away with
- the darkness. The crescent moon and the jewelled stars paled before the
- sun, rising in a glory of purple and gold, a glory that brightened to
- crimson, the pungent, aromatic fragrance of the pines and firs came to my
- nostrils, their branches were outlined against the deep blue of the sky,
- and I realised gradually that another blue day had dawned and the world
- was not empty, but full of the most wonderful possibilities waiting but to
- be grasped. Oh those dawnings in the San Shan An! Those dawnings after a
- night in the open air! Never shall I forget them!
- </p>
- <p>
- And the valley was lovely that autumn weather. Day after day, day after
- day, was the golden sunshine, the clear, deep blue sky, the still, dry,
- invigorating air—no wonder everyone with a literary turn yearns to
- write a book in a valley of the Western Hills. And this valley of the San
- Shan An was the loveliest valley of them all. It, too, is a valley of
- temples, to what gods they were set up I know not, by whom they were set
- up I know not, only because of the gods and the temples there are trees,
- trees in plenty, evergreen firs and pines, green-leaved poplars and
- ash-trees, maples and Spanish chesnuts. At first they were green, these
- deciduous trees, and then gradually, as autumn touched them tenderly with
- his fingers, they took on gorgeous tints, gold and brown, and red, and
- amber, the summer dying gloriously under the cloudless blue sky. They tell
- me that American woods show just such tints, but I have not been to
- America, and I have seen nothing to match this autumn in the Chinese
- hills. And I had not thought to see beauty like this in China!
- </p>
- <p>
- I counted seven temples, and there were probably more. Up the hill to the
- north of my valley, beyond a large temple that I shall always remember for
- the quaint and picturesque doorway, that I have photographed, was a
- plateau to be reached by a stiff climb, and here was a ruined shrine where
- sat calmly looking over the plain, as he had probably looked in life, the
- marble figure of a very famous priest of the long ago. It is ages since
- this priest <span class="pagenum">376</span><a name="link376" id="link376"></a>lived
- in the hills, but his memory is fragrant still. He had two disciples. I
- wonder if the broken marble figures, one beside him and one on the ground
- outside the shrine, are figures of them. There came a drought upon the
- land, the crops failed and the people starved, and these two, to
- propitiate a cruel or neglectful Deity, flung themselves into a well in
- the temple with the beautiful doorway. Whether the rain came I know not,
- but tradition says that the two disciples instead of perishing rose up
- dragons. Personally I feel that must have been an unpleasant surprise for
- the devotees, but you never know a Chinaman's taste, perhaps they
- liked being dragons. The country people seem to think it was an honour.
- There was a farmhouse just beyond this shrine, a poor little place, but
- here on the flat top of the hill there was a little arable land, and the
- Chinese waste no land. Far up the hill-sides, in the most inaccessible
- places, I could see these little patches of cultivated ground. It seemed
- to me that the labour of reaching them would make the handful of grain
- they produced too expensive, but labour hardly counts in China. Up the
- paths toiled men and women, intent on getting the last grain out of the
- land. Off the beaten ways walking is pretty nearly impossible so steep are
- the hill-sides, but of course there are paths, paths everywhere, paved
- paths, in China there are no untrodden ways, and upon these paths I would
- meet the peasants and the priests, clad like ordinary peasants in blue
- cotton, only with shaven heads. My own landlord whom my boy called “Monk,”
- and generally added, “He bad man,” used to come regularly for
- his rent, and he was so fat that the wicked evidently flourished like a
- green bay tree. All the priests, I think, let out their temples as long as
- they can get tenants, and whatever they are—my landlord had beaten a
- man to death—much must be forgiven them. They have gained merit
- because, in this treeless China, they have conserved and planted trees.
- Some little profit, I suppose they make out of their trees because, one
- day in September, I waked to the fact that at my gate, how they had
- climbed up the toilsome, roughly-paved way I know not, was a train of
- camels, and they had come to take away the sacks that were stored in the
- sanctuary under the care of the god. What on earth was done with those
- Spanish chestnuts? They must have been valuable when they were worth a
- train of camels to take them away.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0068" id="linkimage-0068"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0530.jpg" alt="0530 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0530.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- As far as I could see there was no worship done in my temple, the coolies,
- who carefully locked the sanctuary doors at night, were filthy past all
- description. I tried to put it out of my thoughts that they occupied a k'ang
- at night in the room that did duty for my kitchen, and I am very sure that
- they were the poorest of the poor, but at night I would see the youngest
- and dirtiest of them take a small and evil-smelling lamp inside along with
- the god, but what he did there I never knew. Only the lamp inside, behind
- the paper of the windows lit up all the lattice-work and made of that
- sanctuary, that shabby, neglected-looking place, a thing of beauty. But,
- indeed, the outside of all the buildings was wonderful at night. In the
- daytime when I looked I saw how beautiful was the lattice-work which made
- up the entire top half of my walls. At night in the courtyard when only a
- single candle was lighted <span class="pagenum">378</span><a name="link378"
- id="link378"></a>their beauty was forced upon me, whether I would or not.
- Always I went outside to look at those rooms lighted at night. I walked up
- and down the courtyard in the dark—“James Buchanan”
- generally hung on to the hem of my gown—I looked at the lighted
- lattice-work of the windows, and I listened to the servants and the
- coolies talking, and I wondered what they discussed so endlessly, in
- voices that sounded quite European.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were good servants. The cook I know I shall regret all my days, for I
- never expect to get a better, and the boy was most attentive. Any little
- thing that he could do for me he always did, and the way they
- uncomplainingly washed up plates never ceased to command my admiration. I
- had only a camp outfit, the making of books may be weariness unto the
- flesh, as Solomon says it is, but even then it does not make me a rich
- woman, so I did not wish to spend more than I could help, and yet I wanted
- to entertain a friend or two occasionally. This entailed washing the
- plates between the courses, and the servants did it without a murmur. I
- came to think it was quite the correct thing to wait while the plates and
- knives for the next course were washed up. My friends, of course, knew all
- about it, and entered into the spirit of the thing cheerfully, but the
- servants never gave me away. You would have thought I had a splendid
- pantry, and my little scraps of white metal spoons were always polished
- till they looked like the silver they ought to have been. My table linen I
- made simply out of the ordinary blue cotton one meets all over China, and
- it looked so nice, so suitable to meals on the look-out place, that I
- shall always cherish a tenderness for blue cotton. <span class="pagenum">379</span><a
- name="link379" id="link379"></a>Indeed, but for the lonely nights when one
- thought, it was delightful. I only hope my friends enjoyed coming to me,
- as much as I enjoyed having them. Their presence drove away all fears. I
- never feared the gods in their sanctuaries, I never thought of those who
- had perished in the Boxer trouble or the possibility of the return of such
- days when they were with me. I thought I had lost the delights of youth,
- the joy of the land of long ago, but I found the sensation of entertaining
- friends in the San Shan An was like the make-believe parties of one's
- childhood. Sitting on the look-out place, away to the south, we could see
- a range of low, bald hills. They were enchanted hills. The Chinese would
- not go near them, for all that the caves they held hidden in their folds
- were full of magnificent jewels. We planned to go over and get them some
- day before I left the hills, and make ourselves rich for life. But they
- were guarded by gnomes, and elves, and demons, who by their nefarious
- spells kept us away, though we did not fear like the Chinese, and we are
- not rich yet, though jewels are there for the taking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oh, those sunny days in the mountain temple when we read poetry, and told
- stories, and dreamed of the better things life held for us in the future!
- They were good days, days in my life to be remembered, if no more good
- ever comes to me. Was it the exhilarating air, or the company, or the
- temple precincts? All thanks give I to those dead gods who gave me, for a
- brief space, something that was left out of my life.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was only one blot. That imaginative document known as “Cook's
- book” was brought to me afterwards. It wasn't a book at all,
- needless to <span class="pagenum">380</span><a name="link380" id="link380"></a>say.
- It was written on rejected scraps of my typewriting paper, and it
- generally stated I had eaten more “Chiken” than would have
- sufficed to run a big hotel, and disposed of enough “col” to
- keep a small railway engine of my own. Then the flour, and the butter, and
- the milk, and the lard, I was supposed to have consumed! I did not at
- first like to say much, because the servants were so good in that matter
- of washing plates, and knives, and forks, and whenever I did remonstrate
- the boy murmured something about “Master.” He was a true
- Chinaman, he felt sure I would not grudge anything to make a man
- comfortable. The woman evidently did not matter. She was never urged as an
- excuse for a heavy bill. I put it to him that the presence of “Master”
- need not add so greatly to the coal bill, and I put it very gently, till
- one day he mentioned with pride that “Missie other boy was a great
- friend of his.” And I, remembering Tuan's powers in the matter
- of squeeze, had gone about getting these servants through quite different
- channels! But once this knowledge was borne in on me, I became
- hardhearted. I threatened to do the marketing myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I talkee cook,” said the crestfallen boy, and he did “talkee
- cook,” said, I suppose, Missie wasn't quite the fool they had
- counted her, and presently he came back and returned me fifteen cents!
- After that I had no mercy, and I regularly questioned every item of my
- bills.
- </p>
- <p>
- But they were simple souls, and I couldn't help liking them. It
- seemed hardly possible they could belong to the same people who had slung
- a helpless woman from a pole like a pig, bearing her to her death, a woman
- from whom they had had naught <span class="pagenum">381</span><a
- name="link381" id="link381"></a>but kindness. And yet they were. The
- selfsame subservience that made them bow themselves to the Boxer yoke, was
- exactly the quality that made them pleasant to me, who was in authority
- over them. They were just peasants of Babylon, making the best of life,
- deceiving and dissimulating, because deception is the safeguard of the
- slave, the only safeguard he knows. And they certainly made the best of
- life. It amused me to watch their pleasures, those that were visible to my
- eyes. They had a little feast one night, with my stores, I doubt not, and
- they caught and kept crickets in little three-cornered cages which they
- made themselves. At first, when I went to the temple, these cages were
- hung from the eaves outside, but as the weather grew colder they were
- taken inside, and I could hear a cheery chirping, long after the crickets
- had gone from the hills outside. It rained and was cold the first week in
- October, and the servants, like the babies they were, shivered, and
- suggested, “Missie go back Peking,” and one day when it rained
- hard my tiffin was two hours late, and was brought by a boy who looked as
- if he were on the point of bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0070" id="linkimage-0070"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0537.jpg" alt="0537 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0537.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Certainly those temples are not built for cold weather. Everything is
- ordered in China, even the weather, and the first frost is due, I believe,
- on the 1st of November, and yet, on that day, I sat in the warm and
- pleasant sunshine writing on the platform that looked away to the
- enchanted hills, reflecting a little sorrowfully that presently I would be
- gone, and it would be abandoned for the winter.
- </p>
- <p>
- For after that unexpected rain, which for once was not ordered, the days
- were lovely, and the nights <span class="pagenum">382</span><a
- name="link382" id="link382"></a>times of delight. The stars hung like
- diamond drops in the sky, the planets were scintillating crescents, and,
- when the moon rose, the silver moon, she turned the courtyard and the
- temple into a dream palace such as never was on sea or land. It was beauty
- and delight given, oh given with a lavish hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the people I saw in the hills were the kindliest I had yet met in
- China. I had little enough to do with them, I could not communicate with
- them, and yet this was borne in on me. Whenever we met, dirty brown faces
- smiled upon me, kindly voices with a burr in them gave me greeting, I was
- regularly offered the baby of the farm-house at my gates, much to that
- young gentleman's discomfiture, and whenever there was anything to
- see, they evidently invited me to stay and share the sight. Once a bridal
- procession passed with much beating of gongs, the bride shut up in the red
- sedan chair, and all the people about stood looking on, and I stayed too.
- Another time they were killing a pig, an unwieldy, gruesome beast, that
- made me forswear pork, and I was invited to attend the great event. The
- poor pig was very sorry for himself, and was squealing loudly, but much as
- I wished to show I appreciated kindliness, I could not accept that
- invitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- And here in the Western Hills I sat in judgment upon the people I had
- known of all my life and been amongst for the last ten months. Of course,
- I have no right to sit in judgment but after all, I should be a fool to
- live among people for some time and yet have no opinion about them. And it
- seemed to me that I was looking with modern eyes upon the <span
- class="pagenum">383</span><a name="link383" id="link383"></a>survival of
- one of the great powers of the ancient world, Babylon come down to modern
- times, Babylon cumbrously adapting herself to the pressure of the nations
- who have raced ahead of the civilisation that was hers when they were
- barbarian hordes.
- </p>
- <p>
- All along the Pacific Coast, on the west of America, and the east of
- Australia, they fear the Chinaman, and—I used to say his virtues. I
- put it the wrong way. What the white races fear—and rightly fear—is
- that the Chinaman will come in such hordes, he will lower the standard of
- living, he will bring such great pressure to bear, he will reduce the
- people of the land in which he elects to live, the people of the working
- classes, to his own condition—the hopeless condition of the toiling
- slaves of Babylon. It has been well said that the East, China, is the
- exact opposite of the West in every thought and feeling. In the West we
- honour individualism. This is true of almost every nation. A man is taught
- from his earliest youth to depend to a great degree upon himself, that he
- alone is responsible for his own actions. Even the women of the more
- advanced nations—it marks their advancement, whatever people may
- think—are clamouring for a position of their own, to be judged on
- their merits, not to be one of a class bound by iron custom to go one way
- and one way only. In the East this is reversed. No man has a right to
- judge for himself, he is hide-bound by custom, he dare not step out one
- pace from the beaten path his fathers trod. The filial piety of the
- Chinese has been lauded to the skies. In truth it is a virtue that has
- become a curse. To his elders the Chinaman <span class="pagenum">384</span><a
- name="link384" id="link384"></a>must give implicit, unquestioning
- obedience. His work, his marriage, the upbringing of his children, the
- whole ordering of his life is not his business but the business of those
- in authority over him. If he stepped out and failed, his failure would
- affect the whole community. Whatever he does affects not only himself, but
- the farthest ramifications of his numerous family. This interdependence
- makes for a certain excellence, an excellence that was reached by the
- Chinese nation some thousands of years ago, and then—it is stifling.
- </p>
- <p>
- This patriarchal system, this continual keeping of the eyes upon the past,
- has done away in the nation with all self-reliance. A man must be not only
- a genius, but possessed of an extraordinarily strong will-power if he
- manage to shake off the trammels and go his own way unaided, if he
- exercise the sturdy self-reliance that sent the nations of the West ahead
- by leaps and bounds, though the Chinese had worked their way to
- civilisation ages before them. Pages might be written on the subservience
- and ignorance of the women.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh but a woman has influence,” say the men who know China
- most intimately. And of course she has influence, but in China it must
- often be the worst form of power, the influence of the favourite, favoured
- slave. The woman's influence is the influence of a degraded,
- ignorant, and servile class, a class that every man treats openly with a
- certain contempt, a class that is crippled, mentally and bodily. The
- Chinese, be it counted to them for grace, have always held in high esteem
- a well-educated man, educated on their archaic lines; but not, I think,
- till this century, has it ever occurred to <span class="pagenum">385</span><a
- name="link385" id="link385"></a>them that a woman would be better
- educated. A cruel drag upon the nation must be the appalling ignorance of
- its women, the intense ignorance of half the population. Things are
- changing, they say, but, of necessity, they change most slowly. Knowledge
- of any kind takes long, long to permeate an inert mass.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0071" id="linkimage-0071"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0543.jpg" alt="0543 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0543.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- We praise the Chinaman for his industry. But, in truth, we praise without
- due cause. We of the West have long since learned of the dignity of labour
- and if we do not always live up to our ideals, at least we appreciate
- them, and judged by this standard the Chinaman is found wanting. He does
- not appreciate the dignity of labour. The long nails on the fingers of the
- man upon whom fortune has smiled proclaim to all that he has no need to
- use his hands; his fat, flabby, soft body declares him rich and well-fed,
- and that there is no need to exert himself. He is a man to be envied by
- the greater part of the nation. The forceful, strenuous life of the West,
- the life that has made the nations has no charms for, excites no
- admiration in his breast. Manual labour and strife is for the man who
- cannot help himself. And, man for man, his manual labour will by no means
- compare with that accomplished by the man of the West. Nominally he works
- from dawn to dark, really he wastes two-thirds of the time, sometimes in
- useless, misdirected effort, sometimes in mere idle loitering. He is a
- slave in all but name. His life is dull, dull and colourless; he can look
- forward to no recreation when his work is over, therefore he spins it out
- the livelong day. Home life, in the best sense of the term, he has none,
- he may just as well stay at his <span class="pagenum">386</span><a
- name="link386" id="link386"></a>work, exchanging ideas and arguing with
- his fellows.
- </p>
- <p>
- Something to hope for, to live for, to work for, seems to me the great
- desideratum of the majority of the Chinese nation, something a little
- beyond the colourless round of life. The greater part of the nation is
- poor, so poor that industry is thrust upon it, unless it worked it would
- of necessity die; the struggle for life absorbs all its energies, gives it
- no time for thought sufficient to raise it an inch above the dull routine
- that makes up the daily round, but the country is by no means poor, had it
- been there would have been no such civilisation so early and so lasting in
- the world's history, no such fostering of a race that now, in spite
- of most evil sanitary conditions, raises four generations to the three of
- the man of the West.
- </p>
- <p>
- China is a rich land and once she is wiser she will be far richer still,
- for in her mountains are such store of iron and coal as, once worked, may
- well revolutionise the industrial world.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the thought of revolutionising the condition of the industrial world
- brings me quite naturally to the consideration of missionary effort.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the last two hundred and fifty years the Catholic, and for the last
- hundred years the Protestant Churches, have been working in China with a
- view to proselytising the people. And converts are notoriously harder to
- make than in any other missionary field. Still they are made.
- </p>
- <p>
- To me, a Greek, it does not seem to matter by what name a man calls upon
- the Great Power that is over us all—the thing that really matters is
- the life of the man who calls upon that God. Now the missionaries, whether
- they make converts, or whether they do not, do this, they set up a higher
- standard of living. They come among these slave people, they educate them,
- men and women, they care for the sick by thousands, and by their very
- presence among them they show them, I speak of material things, there is
- something beyond their own narrow round, and they make them desire these
- better things. If the Western nations are wise they will allow no poor
- missionaries in China, it is so easy to sink to the level of the people,
- to become as Chinese as the Chinese themselves. Personally, I think it is
- a mistake to conform to Chinese customs. The missionaries are there to
- preach the better customs of the West and there must be no lowering of the
- standard. The Chinaman wants to be taught self-reliance, he wants to be
- taught self-respect, and, last but by no means least, he wants to be
- taught to amuse himself rationally and healthily. Now this in a measure,
- even this last, is what the missionaries, the majority of them, are
- teaching him, though, doubtless, they would not put their teaching in
- exactly those words, might be even surprised to hear it so described. They
- are helping to break down the great patriarchal system which has been
- stifling China for so many hundreds of years. They are teaching
- responsibility, the responsibility of every man and woman for his and her
- own doings.
- </p>
- <p>
- And they are pioneers of trade, forerunners of the merchants who must
- inevitably follow in their footsteps. There are those who will say that
- they do not influence the more highly educated portion of the community,
- but they come to those who need <span class="pagenum">388</span><a
- name="link388" id="link388"></a>them most. The rich can afford to send
- their sons abroad, to pay for medical attendance. It is to those of humble
- means that the schools and hospitals introduced by foreign charity are an
- immeasurable advantage, a boon beyond price. For the man who has once come
- in contact with these foreigners never forgets. He has seen their
- possessions, humble in their eyes, wonderful in his, and in his heart a
- desire is implanted—a desire for something a little better than has
- satisfied his fathers. And slowly this little leaven of discontent,
- heavenly discontent and dissatisfaction with things as they are, will
- permeate the whole lump. China is daily coming more in contact with the
- rest of the world. That world ruthlessly shuts out her proletariat because
- it will not be pulled down. It is well then that the proletariat should be
- levelled up. The process is slowly beginning when the missionaries put
- into the hands of a labourer the Gospels, tell him he is of as much value
- as the President in his palace, make him desire to read, to wash his face
- to be just a little better than his fellows. The creed he holds is a small
- matter, but it is a great matter if he be no longer a slave, but a
- self-respecting man fit to mingle on equal terms with the men of the West.
- Such a man will be more capable, more ready to develop the resources of
- his own rich land; as a trader he will be of ten times more value to the
- mercantile world for ever on the look-out for a market. Whether the
- nations then need fear him will be matter for further consideration. It is
- possible things may be adjusted on a comfortable basis of supply and
- demand.
- </p>
- <p>
- It would be unfair to give all credit for changing {3898}China to the
- missionaries. They are only one factor in a general movement that her own
- sons, the men of new China, have deeply at heart. The past is going, but
- the great change will not be anything violent. The Boxer tragedy awakened
- the Western world thoroughly to what it had always felt, that an Empire
- like Babylon was unsuited to the present day, and they said so with shot
- and shell, and China is taking the lesson to heart, slowly, slowly, but
- she is taking it. She will have learned it thoroughly when the need for
- change, the desire for better things, the power to insist on a higher
- standard of living shall have come to her lower classes, and then she will
- not change exactly as the Western world would wish, but as she herself
- thinks best. The Chinese have always adapted themselves, and in these
- modern times they will use the same methods that they have done through
- the centuries.
- </p>
- <p>
- There came forth the fingers of a man's hand and wrote upon the
- plaster of the wall of the King's Palace, “<i>MENE MENE TEKEL
- UPHAR-SIN</i>.” In that night was Belshazzar, the King of the
- Chaldeans, slain, and Darius the Mede took the kingdom. So the men who
- made the Forbidden City sacred have passed away, the Dowager-Empress who
- defied the West has gone to her long home, the Emperor is but a tiny
- child, his Empire is confined within the pinkish red walls of the Inner
- City, and the Republic, the new young Republic with a Dictator at its
- head, reigns in his stead. But the nation is stirring, the slow-moving,
- patient slaves of Babylon. Will not a new nation arise that shall be great
- in its own way even as the nations of the West are great, for surely the
- spirit of those men <span class="pagenum">390</span><a name="link390"
- id="link390"></a>who built the wondrous courtyards and halls of audience
- of the Forbidden City, who planned the pleasure-grounds at Jehol, who
- stretched the wall over two thousand miles of mountain and valley, who
- conceived the Altar of Heaven, the most glorious altar ever dedicated to
- any Deity, must be alive and active as it was a thousand' years ago.
- And when that spirit animates not the few taskmasters, but the mass of the
- people, when it reaches the toiling slaves and makes of them men, the
- nation will be like the palaces and altars they built hundreds of years
- ago, and the rest of the world may stand aside, and wonder, and, perhaps,
- fear.
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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