The face of China

Chengtu is unquestionably the cleanest city in China, and probably is the most progressive and enlightened of any purely native city. The streets are broad and well kept, and the foreigner can walk anywhere without the slightest fear of molestation. At almost every street corner there is a policeman, and many of them have sentry-boxes. They are neatly dressed in a sort of European uniform, and are decidedly clean and civil. They wear a kind of small black sailor-hat, and the smarter ones wear black thread gloves of native manufacture and carry stout walking-sticks. Altogether, they are the best type of police we met. There are no beggars with their hideous whine and incomparable dirt. This is a magnificent triumph for the head magistrate, as a few years ago they numbered twenty thousand in Chengtu; but he was determined to put an end to the system, and has entirely succeeded. We met a large school of boys neatly dressed, and were told that these were the children of the beggars, whom he had collected into a large school, where they are taught trades at the expense of the municipality.

On the day of our arrival a kind friend offered to take us round the city. For the first time since leaving Shanghai, we found we could go on a real shopping expedition, and we had a glorious afternoon of it. It would be hard to find a more fascinating place than Chengtu for shopping. The curio shops had much that was attractive, though nothing of any great value. We were told that we must proceed with great caution if we wished to get things at a reasonable price; and fortunately we were able to discuss in an unknown tongue, which was a great advantage to us in dealing with the shopkeepers. Our method of procedure was as follows:—firstly, to look with interest at all the things we did not want, such as a baby’s feeding-bottle or old beer-bottles; secondly, to point out all the flaws in anything that we did want, turning up our noses till they were nearly out of joint; thirdly, to ask the prices of many things, and to exclaim “Ai-ah” in an incredulous tone on hearing the price of the things that we wanted to purchase. Then we named a price about five times below what was asked. Finally we left the shop and strolled away up the street, while our kind friend further discussed the matter with the shopkeeper, we having previously arranged with him in English how high we were willing to go. On an average we got the things at about half the price named originally, but sometimes we got them considerably cheaper. There was not much old china to be seen, but a few bronzes and a good deal of interesting brass, mostly modern. Chengtu is a great place for the manufacture of horn things, especially lanterns, which are most ingeniously constructed. The sheets of horn are joined by being melted together, and Hosie gives a most interesting description in his trade report of the way that these and other things are made in Chengtu. There is a great manufacture of masks, and of whole heads of the same kind, which are painted brilliant colours, especially pink. In another street it is interesting to watch the sacred money being made. Outside each shop a tree trunk is set up about six feet high; the top of it is carved to form a mould, the shape of a silver shoe. Into this the paper—made from bamboo or rice straw—is beaten into shape with a hammer by a man standing upon the counter in order to reach up to it. The basket-shops, too, are most enticing, and here they make the largest baskets I have ever seen, about four feet high and about two yards in diameter. This is the place from which loofah comes; it is the inside of a peculiar kind of melon. Chengtu is the great trade centre, too, for spices and musk, furs, &c., which come from Tibet; but the great trade of the place is in silks, as in the days of Marco Polo—and these were brought to the house another day for us to see. The figured crêpe de Chine was beautiful, and the shades were different from those to be seen at home. I got a lovely figured brocade at about 3s. 9d. per yard, and crêpe de Chine at 1s. 6d. You can see these silks being woven in numbers of the dark-looking houses, and the design is made by a person sitting above the loom, almost in the roof. Another charming industry is that of ribbons and braids, which are made on the most ingenious little machines. The people sit outside their doors working at them, as you see the women with their lace bobbins in European countries.

The people seem a poor, cheerful, thrifty folk, and there is an air of prosperous activity throughout the whole city. Many parts of it are extremely picturesque, and there are beautiful trees of various kinds shading the wide thoroughfares. In the evening our attention was attracted by tall poles, with lights placed so high up that they could have been of no possible use to anybody. We found that they were put up by pious persons to light the “orphan spirits”—that is to say, to show the way home to people who had died away from their own city.

The following day we visited the famous Buddhist monastery, enclosed by a wall above which rose lofty trees. Passing through the fine entrance, we faced a large gilt Buddha in a narrow shrine; back to back with this, and divided off by a thin partition, was another figure of the Buddha, facing the court. Here the Abbot received us most courteously, and sent for his secretary to show us round. The accompanying diagram shows the ordinary sort of arrangement both of temples and monasteries. The temples generally form a group of buildings separated from one another by courts one behind the other in a straight line, the principal buildings forming the ends, and minor buildings running along the sides of the courts. The hall of meditation of the monks was an imposing room with seats along the walls, on which the monks sit cross-legged, looking very much like Buddhas. Everything was beautifully clean in the dining-hall, which was filled with long tables, on which three bowls and a pair of chopsticks were placed at intervals for each monk. In the kitchen we saw an enormous boiler, where over a bushel of rice is cooked for each meal, to supply the appetites of a hundred and fifty monks. A large wooden fish acts as a gong for summoning the monks to meals, and another gong is used to summon them to tea.

One of the monks looked as if he had been recently branded for sainthood with nine marks about the size of threepenny-bits, symmetrically dotted over his skull. Hackmann gives an interesting description of the way this is done in his book Der Buddhismus. The candidate for sainthood has small pieces of incense fastened on to his shaven head by means of resin. These are lighted and allowed to burn into the flesh, while a chant is kept up by the other monks, and the sufferer has some one to press his temples with his thumbs to relieve the pain.

At the end of the third courtyard we were taken into a lofty temple, where the Abbot’s throne faced the doorway. A gilt Buddha, with fruit and flowers placed on a table, formed a sort of altar in front of it. Round doorways, without doors, led to guest-rooms on either side of this hall, and we were hospitably entertained in one with tea and cakes. By permission of the Abbot, I returned next day to make a sketch of this picturesque interior, and in this sketch the doorway is shown, which is very characteristic of Szechwan architecture. Many of the inns in this province have circular doorways and windows. The Abbot came and talked with us very politely, and on inquiry I learnt that a most beautiful painting of lotus blossoms in black and white, which hung over the doorway, was by a celebrated artist, and had been presented to the monastery by a pious worshipper. The Abbot sat down and began discussing our respective religions, which he said were exactly the same. While agreeing as to their fundamental principle being the same, I felt unable to discuss their differences, being somewhat inattentive, I fear, owing to my endeavour to get on with the sketch as rapidly as possible. Next the Abbot was sure we must be hungry, though we had just been regaled with excellent sweets and tea, and, despite our refusing it, he insisted on sending us some of the meal to which he had been summoned. A monk soon appeared with bowls of vermicelli and greens. It was not unpalatable, and much easier to manage with chopsticks than might be supposed, as the bowl is held close to the mouth and the food shovelled in with chopsticks aided by suction. At intervals the novices came in to worship, and prostrated themselves before the altar. Most of the monks were dressed in pretty silver-grey robes, but some in the orthodox orange, and the Abbot wore a blue cloak. It was certainly an attractive community, a great contrast to those we saw in Peking.

Educationally Chengtu stands in the front rank of Chinese cities. Everywhere there are schools and colleges established on the new lines, and more are being built. The people are so enthusiastic that they have rather overshot the mark, it may be thought. In order to facilitate the girls’ going to school they are being dressed as boys, so that they may pass through the streets unnoticed to attend the various schools which have been started for them. One girl came to a friend of mine to seek admission to her school, and not only did the European take her for a boy (telling her the boys’ school was on the other side of the road), but so also did the Chinese gatekeeper, who insisted she had come to the wrong place. At the recent athletic sports the students put up a notice that no lady with bound feet would be admitted to the ground, and we hear that this notice is now being put up everywhere throughout the empire on such occasions. Anti-foot-binding is certainly making good progress among the upper classes, and we even saw a shoe-shop with large shoes for ladies prominently displayed on the counter. Nowhere else have we seen this.

There is a large military medical college at which there are three French doctors. Their presence is not altogether agreeable to the Chinese, and when one retired recently the officials took the opportunity of suggesting that he should not be replaced. They said that they could not afford his salary. How great must have been their disappointment when they were informed that their new professor had already arrived, and that the French authorities were quite willing to pay for him! Foreign competition in China has its funny side, but I marvel at the way the Chinese endure it.

The University is an interesting but eminently unpicturesque place, and the students are cramming Western subjects in a way to cause intellectual dyspepsia. As everywhere in China, English is the main subject, and they have a professor from Cambridge, with two English assistants and a Dane. French, German, and Japanese are also taught, and there is only one professor for Chinese classics. Sunday is a holiday, and many students spend the week-end at home. The walls of the class-rooms are nearly all window, but it is in no ways disturbing to Chinese students to have any number of spectators, or to be able to see into the adjoining class-rooms. Each study is occupied by three or four students, and the studies are simply partitioned corridors with a passage down the centre and a railing on either side of it, instead of walls. The dining-rooms are like outdoor restaurants with a roof over them, and the students sit four at a table. The fees for the year, including everything, are thirty dollars (about £3. 10s.). Many students are very anxious to study in England, but cannot possibly raise the necessary funds; and until proper arrangements are made to look after them when they do come, it is hardly a desirable plan. America is far ahead of us in this respect, and England would do well to follow her example. Everything is in our favour at present, and it might be of the utmost value as regards the development of China, and the commercial interests of England, to seize the opportunity of educating some of her ablest scholars. A Chinese gentleman told me that students returning from England are very apt to be full of bumptiousness because they have come out head of their class in English schools, while they have failed to assimilate what they have learnt. We spent an evening with some students, answering questions about the different countries we had visited. They wanted to know about the government, the religious and general conditions of other lands. Naturally the questions covered far too big an area to admit of satisfactory answers, but probably the men would have been willing to listen all night, if we had been willing to go on talking. They were most interested to hear the reasons why we admire China and the points of superiority which it possessed.

On the last day of the year the Viceroy and the Tartar general sent presents to all the foreign community. Their visiting-cards were brought in, and a list of the presents which were waiting outside—hams, pigeons, ducks, fruits, and sweetmeats. We went outside to see them, and found the presents displayed on trays on the top of large boxes, or hung round them. It is customary to select about two things; visiting-cards are sent back with the remainder, and a small present of money is given to the servants who bring the gifts. They replace what has been selected from a supply inside the box, and then carry them on to the next house. We went to see the Tartar general’s yamen in the Manchu city, a very pretty spot embowered in trees, and quite typical of Chinese official buildings. The inscription over the entrance is “Yamen of the greatest General,” and on the doors and walls are highly coloured pictures of the tutelary gods, two celebrated generals of the T’Ang dynasty (A.D. 618 to 905); one is white-faced, and the other red-faced. These pictures are repeated all along the wall, and also on the doorways of the inner courtyard, which in the sketch appears in the background. They are singularly ugly, but as the pictures of the door-gods are seen on the houses of all, even the poorest, the sketch of them may not be devoid of interest. On private houses some of them are quite little papers like advertisements, while again some of the private houses have large gilt figures covering the whole doors. One day we went outside the city to visit a fine temple, and came to a place where there is a road on which you can drive in carriages. This is the only place in the province where there is a carriage, but we did not have the privilege of seeing it. The walls are broad enough and smooth enough on the top to make a splendid carriage drive—four or five vehicles might easily drive abreast—and as they are ten miles round, it would really be a fine promenade. In the spring the view must be very beautiful, for there is a range of snowy mountains in the distance, and many branches of the Min River water the intervening plain. During the whole week that we spent at Chengtu we never saw the mountains, on account of the mist; but it was not hard to imagine the beauty of the place when the flowers are out and the brilliant butterflies hovering round them.

We took part in an interesting event while we were staying here—the purchase of land for a Christian university. Heavy bundles of silver “tings” had to be weighed before the payment was settled. Four different missionary societies have each agreed to build a college and to provide a certain number of qualified teachers. It is also proposed that Etonians should furnish a hostel. This university scheme for the west seems likely to be the forerunner of one also in the east of the empire, but the latter will be on more ambitious lines.

We were sorrier when the time came for us to leave Chengtu than we were to resume our journey on any other occasion. We had decided to go by river to Kiating, despite the fact that it was very low; and as we left the city we came to the wall where the new barracks are situated, and saw some soldiers doing the goose-step. Others were jumping into a trench, where nearly every one landed on all-fours. There was very great hesitation before they dared leap at all. The city is enclosed by one of the branches of the river, and we had not to go very far outside the wall before we reached the point where our boat was moored.