Ninety miles north-west of Hong Kong lies the second city of China, Canton (Plate XVI.). It stands near the mouths of two rivers which give access to the interior of the country, and Canton is therefore an important commercial town, surpassed only by Shanghai. The famous Chinese silk is exported from Canton in larger quantities than from any other town, and the industries of silk-weaving, porcelain, and other manufactures are flourishing. Canton is one of the thirty-seven Chinese "treaty ports"—that is, those which are open to foreign commerce. It has 900,000 inhabitants, and is the capital of the southernmost of the eighteen provinces of China proper and the residence of a viceroy. Its streets are so narrow that no wheeled vehicle can pass through them. A large part of the inhabitants live on boats moored to posts on the river. A railway 1200 miles long connects Canton with the capital of the empire, Peking.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] This is the vessel which was wrecked on the coast of Morocco, near Cape Spartel, on December 13, 1911, having the Duke and Duchess of Fife (Princess Royal) on board.



XII

CHINA[14]

TO SHANGHAI

From Hong Kong the Delhi ploughs her way along the Chinese coast, and next day (October 31) we are right out in the track of the north-east monsoon. The sea is high and dead against us, and the wind is so strong that we can hardly go up on deck. It becomes steadily cooler as we advance northwards.

To the east we have now the large island of Formosa, which was annexed by Japan sixteen years ago. It is about twice the size of Wales, and marks the boundary between the China Sea and the Eastern Sea, which farther north passes into the Yellow Sea. The coast and its hills are sometimes seen close at hand, sometimes far off, and sometimes they disappear in the distance. With a glass we can distinguish the lighthouses, always erected on small islands off the mainland. The Chinese coast is dangerous, being full of reefs, holms, and shallows.

Hong Kong and the adjoining seas are visited from the middle of July to the middle of September by the destructive whirlwinds called typhoons. The vortices, spinning round with tremendous rapidity, are usually formed far out in the Pacific Ocean, and gradually advance towards the mainland. They move at a rate of nine miles an hour, and therefore the weather stations on the Philippines, and other islands lying in the track of the typhoons, can send warnings by telegraph to the Chinese coast. Then the black triangle is hoisted on a tall mast in the harbour of Hong Kong, for instance, and is visible for a long distance. Every one knows what it means: a typhoon is on the way. The Chinese junks make in towards land, where they find shelter under the high coast, and all other vessels strengthen their moorings.

On November 2 we know by the yellowish-brown colour of the water that we are off the mouth of the Blue River, as the Yang-tse-kiang is called by Europeans. A pilot comes on board to take us through the dangerous, uncertain fairway, and a little later we have flat land on both sides of us, and are in the estuary of the river.

Shanghai is situated on a small affluent which runs into the Yang-tse-kiang close to its mouth, and large ocean steamers cannot go up to the town. After the Delhi has dropped its anchor we proceed up the river in a steam tender. The low banks soon become more animated, the houses stand closer together, factories appear amongst them, and Chinese vessels lie moored on both sides, including two sorry warships of wood, relics of a time gone by. They are high in the bow and stern, and from the mast floats the blue dragon on its yellow field.[15] At length the stately "bund" of Shanghai comes into sight with a row of fine, tall houses. This is not China, but a bit of Europe, the white town in the yellow land, the great and wealthy Shanghai with its 12,000 Europeans, beside the Chinese town inhabited by 650,000 natives.

Next day, November 3, occurred two noted birthdays, those of the Dowager Empress of China and of the Emperor of Japan. They were both remarkable for their powerful minds and wisdom, and have made their names immortal in the extreme East. The Consul-General of Japan held a reception, and the Governor of Shanghai a brilliant dinner.

We saw much that was curious and interesting, and our time was fully occupied during our short stay in the largest shipping and commercial port of China. From the European streets with electric light and tramways, churches, clubs, merchants' offices, and public buildings, tidal docks and wharves, we reach in a few minutes the Chinese town, pure, unadulterated Asia. It swarms with yellow men in blue coats and black vests with small brass buttons, white stockings, black shoes with thick, flat soles, a small black skull-cap with a red button on the head, and a long pigtail behind. There dealers sit in their open shops, smoking long, small pipes while waiting for customers. The tea-houses are full. A noise and tumult beyond description, a constant going and coming, a continual exchange of coin and goods.

The religion of the Chinese is a mixture of different doctrines and rules of wisdom. China has had more wise men than any other old country in the world. Foremost among them is Confucius, a contemporary of Buddha and Socrates. He wrote a book of three hundred odes, and called it Purity of Thought. Twelve disciples gathered round him, and a larger circle of three thousand. "Do not to others what you would not that they should do to you" was one of his precepts. When Confucius was asked how he had contrived to acquire deep knowledge of so many things, he replied, "Because I was born poor and had to learn." He considered wealth a misfortune and knowledge power. The Chinese reverence his memory, and regard him not as a god but as the wisest man of all ages.

Along with Confucianism, Taoism exists in China. The sublime teaching of the founder has, however, been corrupted and degraded to jugglery and superstition. At the commencement of our era Buddhism was introduced into China, and now is spread over almost all the country. There is, however, no clearness in the religious conceptions of the Chinese. A Taoist may perform his devotions in the morning in a Buddhist temple and in the evening be deeply interested in the writings of Confucius. Many therefore have an equal respect for all three systems.

The basis, however, of Chinese religious thought is ancestor worship. Whether they are Confucians, like most of the mandarins, or Taoists or Buddhists, like the common people, Chinamen always cherish the same reverence for the souls of their forefathers. An altar in their honour is raised in even the simplest house. The graves may not be disturbed, and nothing but respect is cherished for the memory of the departed. In the seventeenth century the Manchu emperor, Kang Hi, ruled China for sixty-one years with a power and wisdom which made him one of the greatest monarchs of any age. His grandson, Kien Lung, inherited all his excellent qualities, and when he had ruled China for nearly sixty-one years he abdicated simply in order that, out of respect to his ancestor, the years of his reign might not exceed his grandfather's.

One consequence of this ancestor worship is that enormous areas of China are covered with graves. The Mongol emperor, Kublai Khan, who reigned at the end of the thirteenth century, roused furious opposition by ordering that all the burial-grounds should be broken up and turned into fields. At the present time, when new railways are spreading mile after mile through China, the sanctity of the graveyards is one of the greatest obstacles to engineers. The Chinese will not disturb the slumbers of their forefathers, and therefore the railway has often to pass round a hallowed place or avoid it by means of a bridge. The Emperor himself travels to Mukden simply to make offerings at the graves of his ancestors. Kang Hi and Kien Lung are buried in Mukden, and their dynasty, the Manchu, still rules over the country.

The Chinese feel this association with a past life more strongly than with the future, and the worship of their ancestors almost takes the place of affection for their fatherland. They certainly love their own homes, but what goes on in other parts of the country is a matter of indifference to them. To the Cantonese it matters not whether the Russians take Manchuria or the Japanese Korea, provided only that Canton is left in peace. Ancestor worship may be said, indeed, to be the true religion of the Chinese. For the rest they are filled with an unreasoning fear of spirits, and have recourse to many different gods who, they believe, can control these influences for good and evil. They are very superstitious. If any one falls sick of fever and becomes delirious, his relations believe that his soul has gone astray. They carry his clothes round the spot where he lost consciousness in order to bring his soul into the right track again; and at night they go up to the roof and wave a lantern to guide the soul home.

"THE MIDDLE KINGDOM"

The first things a Chinese schoolboy is taught are that the sky is round, the earth quadrangular, and that China is situated in the middle of the earth, and on that account is called the "Middle Kingdom." All other countries lie around China and are its vassals.

The Emperor is called the "Son of Heaven," and holds the supreme spiritual and temporal power in his hands. On his accession he gives an arbitrary name to his reign, which also becomes his own. He chooses his successor himself from among his sons. If he is childless he chooses one of his nearest relations, but then he adopts his future successor that the latter may make offerings to the souls of himself and his ancestors. The yellow robe and the five-clawed dragon are the emblems of the imperial house. The Emperor is immeasurably superior to his people, and the mortals who may speak to him are easily counted. A few years ago the European ambassadors in Peking exacted the right to see the Emperor every New Year's Day. This they did, but had no talk with him.



China is the oldest, the most populous, and the most conservative kingdom in the world. In the time of Nineveh and Babylon it had attained to a high civilization, and has remained the same through 4000 years. Of Nineveh and Babylon only rubbish heaps are left, but China still shows no sign of decay. Western Asia is like a vast graveyard with innumerable monuments of bygone times. There devastating migrations of peoples took place, and races and dynasties contended and succeeded one another. But China is still the same as ever. The isolated position of the country and the objection of the people to contact with foreigners have contributed to this. The reverence for the old state of things and for the memory of their forefathers makes a new generation similar to the preceding.

During the twenty-two centuries before the birth of Christ three imperial families ruled in China in succession. Two and a half centuries before our era a powerful and far-sighted emperor built the Great Wall, the mightiest erection ever completed by human hands (Plate XVII.). This wall is 1500 miles long, 50 feet high, and 26 thick at the bottom and 16 at the top. Towers stand at certain intervals, and there are gates here and there. It is constructed of stone, brick, and earth. It is in parts much ruined, especially in the west, and in some places only heaps of earth are left.

Why was this immense wall erected? The Chinese are a peaceful people, and they surrounded themselves with walls to prevent intrusion from outside. In China there are 1553 towns enclosed in massive stone walls, and the great emperor in the third century B.C. naturally thought of building a wall in the same way all round his extensive kingdom. It was principally from the north that danger threatened. There lived the nomads of Eastern Turkestan and Mongolia, savage, brave, and warlike horsemen. To them the Chinese wall was an insurmountable obstacle. But precisely on that account this wall has also affected the destiny of Europe, for the wild mounted hordes, finding the way southwards to China barred, advanced westwards instead, and in the fourth century, in conjunction with the Alans, overran extensive areas of Europe.

The Great Wall, however, could not protect China for ever. In the year 1280 the country was conquered by Jenghis Khan's grandson, Kublai Khan, Marco Polo's friend and patron. He, too, was a great builder. He constructed the Grand Canal (see map, p. 174) between Peking and Hang-chau, immediately to the south-west of Shanghai. His idea was that the rice harvest of the southern provinces should also benefit the northern parts of the country. Previously the rice had been freighted on junks and carried along the coast, where it was exposed to the attacks of Japanese pirates. Now the junks could pass safely through the country by the new canal. The imperial canal is 840 miles long, crosses the Yellow and Blue rivers, and is still in use. It is a memorial of the hundred years' rule of the Mongols.

In 1644 China was conquered by the Manchu dynasty, which still reigns. Exactly a hundred years earlier the Portuguese had seized Macao, not far from Hong Kong. Since then, and particularly during recent decades, Europeans have encroached on Chinese soil. The French possessions on the peninsula of Further India were formerly under Chinese protection. The Great Powers have made themselves masters of some of the best harbours in China. On two occasions, the latter during the Boxer insurrection in 1900, Peking has been entered by the combined troops of European nations.

The "Middle Kingdom" is China proper, but the "Son of Heaven" also rules over four dependencies, Eastern Turkestan, Mongolia, Manchuria, and Tibet. The area of the Chinese Empire altogether is thirty-five times that of the British Isles, and its population is ten times as numerous, being about 433 millions; indeed, every third or fourth man in the world is a Chinaman.

Owing to the situation of the country the climate is good and healthy. The differences of temperature between winter and summer are large; in the south reigns almost tropical heat; in the north, in the districts round Peking, the winter is bitterly cold. The soil is exceedingly fruitful. Tea, rice, millet, maize, oats, barley, beans, peas, vegetables, and many other crops are grown. In the southern provinces the fields are full of sugar-cane and cotton bushes. The whole country is intersected by large rivers, which serve for irrigation and the transport of goods. In the west rise lofty mountains, forming continuations of the Tibetan ranges. Eastwards they become lower. The greater part of China is a mountainous country, but lowlands extend along the coast. Six of the eighteen provinces border on the coast, which abounds in excellent harbours.

The "Middle Kingdom" is, then, a fortunate country, one richly endowed by nature in every respect. In the mountains lies inexhaustible wealth of minerals, and China possesses larger coal-fields than any other land in the world. Its future is, therefore, secured, and China's development may some time surpass that of America.

It is well known that a country which has deeply indented coasts gains an early and extensive development. Thus Greece was in old times the home of learning and art; and thus Europe now dominates the rest of the world. For a people which dwells within such coasts comes sooner and more easily than others into contact with its neighbours, and by commercial intercourse can avail itself of their resources and inventions. But in this, as in so many other respects, China is an exception. The Chinese have never made use of their coast. They have, on the contrary, avoided all contact with foreigners, and their development within their own boundaries has therefore been exceedingly peculiar. Their culture is different from anything else, and yet it is most estimable and refined.

Two thousand years before Christ the Chinese had written characters. Later they invented the hair pencil, which is in use to this day. They grind down a jet-black ink, in which they dip the brush, and hold it vertically when they write. The manufacture of the ink is their secret, and the "Indian ink" which we use in Europe is obtained from them. A hundred years after Christ paper was made in China. In an ancient town at Lop-nor, where wild camels now roam, I found a collection of Chinese letters and documents on paper which had remained buried in the desert since A.D. 265. In A.D. 600 the Chinese had invented the art of printing, which in Europe was not invented until 850 years later. The Chinese were acquainted with the magnetic needle 1100 years before Christ, and made compasses, and they knew of gunpowder long before Europeans. Three thousand years ago the Chinese were proficient in the art of casting bronze. In the interior of the country are still to be found most beautiful objects in bronze—round bowls on feet decorated with lions and dragons, vases, dishes, cups, and jugs, all of dark, heavy bronze executed with the finest and most artistic detail. The porcelain manufacture attained its greatest excellence in the time of Kang Hi and Kien Lung. Then were made vases, bowls, and dishes of such exceeding perfection that neither the Chinese themselves nor any other people at the present time can produce their match. The arrangement of colours and the glaze excite the admiration of all connoisseurs. Porcelain articles of this period are now extremely rare, and fetch enormous prices. In Japan I saw a small green Chinese bowl on three feet, with a cover, which had cost eleven hundred pounds. Compared to the Kang Hi vases, the finest porcelain that can be produced nowadays is mere rubbish.

The Chinese language is as singular as everything else in the great kingdom. Every word is unchangeable. While we say "go, went, gone, will go, should go, going," the Chinese always say simply "go." The precise meaning is shown by the position of the word in a sentence or by the help of certain auxiliary words, as, for example, "I morning go," "We yesterday go," where the future or past tense is indicated by the words "morning" and "yesterday." A single word, li, for instance, may have a number of different significations, and what it denotes in any particular case depends on the tone and pronunciation, on its position in the sentence, and on the word which comes before or after. The language is divided into many different dialects, of which the principal is the mandarin or the dialect of the educated. Every word has its particular written sign, and the Chinese language accordingly possesses 24,000 different written characters; only one man in twenty and one woman in a hundred can read and write it.

Chinese literature is exceedingly rich, almost inexhaustible. At a time when the bronze age still reigned in northern Europe, the Chinese had a highly cultivated literature. From the fifth century B.C. down to our own day it has run an uninterrupted course through centuries and ages. When the northern vikings were executing their plundering raids by sea and setting up their runic stones, a geographical hand-book was published in China called a "Description of all the Provinces" and abundantly illustrated by maps. Thanks to their chronicles we can follow the history of the Chinese for 4000 years back. And the most remarkable feature of these annals is that they are distinguished by the strictest accuracy and reliability. All kinds of subjects are alluded to, even the most insignificant events. Chinese books are very cheap, and every one who can read can provide himself with quite a large library. Of the numbers of books we can have some conception when we hear that the Emperor Kieng Lung had a library so large that the catalogue of his books filled 122 volumes.

THE BLUE RIVER

The Blue River, or Yang-tse-kiang, the Mekong, and the Salwin all rise in eastern Tibet and flow quite close to one another southwards through deeply excavated parallel valleys. But while the first two continue their southerly course all the way to the sea, the Blue River turns off sharply eastwards in western China and divides the Middle Kingdom in two.

It is only Europeans who sometimes call the largest river of China the "Blue" River. The Chinese themselves call it the "Great" River, or the "Long" River, or, far up the country to the west, the "River of Golden Sand." Only three rivers in the world are longer, namely, the Nile, the Mississippi, and the Amazon. The Obi and Yenisei are about the same length, 3200 miles. The Blue River discharges 244 times the volume of water of the Thames.

In one respect the Blue River is far superior to all the waterways of the world, for on this river and its tributaries, or, in short, in the area of its drainage basin, live not less than 180 millions of human beings, or an eighth of the total population of the world. The parts of China proper situated on the Blue River are called the River Provinces. The viceroy of two of these, namely Hupeh and Hunan, has more subjects than any country in Europe, except Russia. The most westerly province of China, Sze-chuan, traversed by the Blue River, is in area and population equal to France. Europe shrinks up to nothing before such comparisons.

On the Blue River stands a series of famous old towns. Chungking is the capital of Sze-chuan, and thus far European steamers ascend the river. Hankow is the largest commercial town in the interior of China. Nanking, near the mouth, was formerly the capital of China. South-west of Hankow a large lake lies on the southern bank of the Blue River. Hu means lake in Chinese, king is a capital city, pe signifies north, and nan south. Peking, therefore, means the "northern capital," and Nanking the "southern capital"; Hupeh signifies "north of the lake," and Hunan "south of the lake."

The province of Hunan, south of the lake, is one of the most noteworthy in all China. Its people are a vigorous and independent race, and make the best soldiers in China. They are more hostile to foreigners than other Chinese, and the capital of Hunan, Chang-sha, has been of old a centre of opposition to foreigners and of revolutionary agitations.

Even large ocean liners ascend to Hankow, and smaller steamboats to the capital of Sze-chuan. The latter are formidable competitors to the junks, many thousands of which have from time immemorial provided for the transport and traffic on the great river. There are many different kinds of junk. Some are large, others small; some are built for the lower, quieter waters of the river, others for the rapids in Hupeh and Sze-chuan. But they are all well suited to their purpose, and are an ornament to the grand beauty of the constantly changing landscape through which the river has cut its valley.

In some districts the junks are built of cypress wood, in others of oaken planks. This is to make the boats more elastic and supple, and to diminish the risk of springing a leak among the rapids. Where the danger is unusually great a pilot is taken on board, but still it is reckoned that one junk in ten runs aground, and one in twenty is totally wrecked. To go from Hankow to Chungking takes thirty-five days, and to come down in the opposite direction with the stream only nine days. The voyage down the river is much more dangerous, and on this voyage most of the shipwrecks occur.

Every large junk has a small dinghy to convey passengers and goods to and from the shore. A large junk is 40 feet long. It is high at the stern, and here stands a kind of cabin roofed with plaited straw or grass matting. A junk going upstream carries a cargo of two and a half tons, one going down six tons. The vessel is propelled by oars, some of which are so large that they require eight men each. These are needed most in drifting with the current, when the boat must be controlled by the steering oars. The junk has also a mast and sail which is used in going upstream with a favourable wind, and is lowered when coming down with the current. Only the bow is decked.

It may well be asked how it is possible to get such a large heavily laden boat up against the strong river current, for it is evident that however favourable the wind might be, the vessel would be carried down the rapids. A long rope of twisted bamboo a hundred yards long is fastened to the bow of the junk, and with this the vessel is dragged up by some sixty men who run along the bank. The bank, however, is usually steep, with dangerous rocks projecting out into the river, and over these the men have to scramble like monkeys, still pulling at their rope. Often neither the boat nor the river is visible from the rocky path, but the skipper of the boat is in constant communication with the towing men by means of drums on board. Six men are always ready to clear the rope if it catches against any projection, and others, who are stark naked, do the same work in the water. On the cliffs along the river, grooves and marks have been worn out by the ropes, for towing has here been practised for thousands of years. There is always a score of men on board to steer and fend off the boat with poles. They have also bamboo poles with hooks at the end to help in dragging the boat up against the current.

These men work like galley-slaves, and their work is both dangerous and exhausting. Week after week they walk with bent backs struggling under the towing rope. They are covered with bruises, which scarcely heal up before they are torn open again, and especially on the shoulders the marks of the rope are visible. They have a hard life, and yet they are cheerful. They are treated like dogs, and yet they sing. And what wages do they receive for a journey of thirty-five days up the river? Three shillings, besides three meals of rice a day, and meat three times during the journey! For the down journey, when the work is much easier and the time only one-fourth, they receive only a shilling. These labourers earn about 1-1/4d. for ten hours' work.

In February the river is lowest and the water clearest. Then the towns and villages stand 160 feet above the surface of the river. Their walls, staircases, gates, and pagodas stand up in the flat triangles of the valley openings. Every inch of hill and valley is covered with fields or woods. Later in the spring the river begins to rise, and in summer is a huge rolling volume of chocolate-brown or greyish water. At certain places where the valley is narrow the water may rise a hundred feet higher than in February. A voyage on it is then more dangerous, for banks, boulders, and reefs are covered with water and form whirlpools and seething eddies.

Below the towns and villages shoals of junks lie moored waiting for work. Every cliff, every bend has its name—Yellow Hat, Sleeping Swine, Double Dragon, etc. Nor are pirates wanting. They have their haunts among the mountains, and fall upon the junks at convenient points. Sometimes large white notices are seen on projecting rocks. They may be "The waterway is not clear," or "Small junks should anchor here." Thus the boatowners are warned of danger.

The earnings of a boatowner are not large, and he is glad enough if he can bring his boat back to Hankow in safety after a voyage up and down the river. With anything but pleasure he sees the large Russian vessels lying at Hankow and taking in tea. Hankow is the greatest tea port of China, and China is the home of the tea plant. It is not more than 250 years since tea was first known in Europe, where it is now in general use, as also in many other parts of the world. In England and Russia it is a national drink, and the Russians used formerly to transport their tea to Europe by caravans through Mongolia and Siberia. Now the export of tea from China has declined, and the Middle Kingdom has been outstripped by India and Ceylon.

IN NORTHERN CHINA

In the north-westernmost province of the kingdom, Kansu, is a famous old town, named Si-ning, surrounded with a fine stone wall. I had completed my first journey through Tibet and came to Si-ning on November 23, 1896, accompanied by my servant, Islam Bay.

When we left Si-ning we had a riding horse each, and six mules with their three drivers. They accompanied us for some days as far as a small town, where we exchanged them for two large, heavy carts on two wheels and covered with a tilt of straw matting. In one we packed all our things, in the other I took my seat, while Islam rode. Each cart was drawn by a mule and two horses, driven by a pleasant Chinaman. I had no interpreter, and had to get along with the few words I had managed to pick up.

For six days we travelled northwards through the Kansu mountains, going up and down all the way over stony passes and over frozen rivers with or without neck-breaking bridges. The carts creaked and rocked through narrow hollow roads where it would have been impossible to pass a cart coming from the opposite direction. In such places, therefore, one of our drivers went on in front shouting to keep the road clear. Fortunately we were in the company of other carts. When two carts meet where the road is narrow, it is customary for the smaller one to back and leave the road open for the larger.

We set out just after midnight, and drove on till noon. In spite of furs and rugs I was almost frozen through. Islam preferred to go on foot, and the drivers who ran beside the wagons also managed to keep themselves warm.

At break of day on December 10 we came to the bank of a stream which falls into the Yellow River (Hwang-ho). It was frozen quite across, and a path of sand showed where the route crossed the river. Our companions were to go over first in one of their carts with a team of three horses. They dashed at full gallop out on to the ice, but had not gone far before a wheel cut through the ice and the cart was held fast as in a vice. The whole load had to be taken out and carried over to the farther bank, and after much trouble the empty cart was hoisted up.

At a broader place the men cut up the thin ice in the middle of the bed where the water was three feet deep, and when another cart tried its luck it pitched suddenly down into the opening and remained fast. Two additional horses were attached, and all the men shouted and cracked their whips. The horses reared, fell, were nearly drowned under the ice, threw themselves about and jumped up on to the ice, only to drop back again into the hole. A young Chinaman then threw off every stitch of clothing and went into the water, 18 deg. below freezing-point, to pull away the pieces of ice and stones which held back the wheels. I cannot tell how it was that he was not frozen to death. He afterwards warmed himself at a fire made by Islam Bay. We struggled for four hours before at last the irritating river was behind us.

In Liang-chau, a town of 100,000 inhabitants, with a quadrangular wall, handsome gates, and broad, busy streets, we stayed with some missionaries. Here we had to wait twelve whole days before we could procure nine camels and two men who were willing to take us to the town Ning-hsia on the Yellow River, nearly 300 miles off. The missionaries had no other guest-room than their chapel, which was rather cold; on Christmas Eve the temperature inside was 3 deg.

For twenty days we travelled through a country called Ala-shan, which for the most part is inhabited by Mongols. We followed a desert track and encamped at wells. Certain belts were buried in drift sand which formed wave-like dunes. Here we were outside China proper and the Great Wall, but we frequently met Chinese caravans. Two horsemen had been assigned to me as an escort by the last Chinese governor, for the country is unsafe owing to robbers. All, however, went well, and we came safely to Ning-hsia on the Yellow River.



From Ning-hsia we had 267 miles to the town Pao-te, and now we had to cross the Mongolian district of Ordos, between the Great Wall and the northern bend of the Yellow River. In summer it is better to travel by boat down the river, which rises in north-eastern Tibet and falls into the northern bay of the Yellow Sea after a course of 2500 miles. The river owes its name to its turbid yellow water, which makes the sea also yellow for some distance from the coast. Elsewhere the Yellow Sea is no yellower than any other.

At that time, in January, the Yellow River was covered with thick ice, and where we crossed it with our nine camels its breadth was 380 yards. Then we made long days' marches through the desert, and had a very hard and troublesome journey. We had indeed with us enough mutton, bread, and rice, and there were wells along the road. One of them was 130 feet deep and was walled round. But we suffered from cold. Sometimes the temperature was only 1.5 deg. at noon, -27 deg. at night, and 16.5 deg. in the tent. Besides, it blew steadily and with the velocity of a hurricane. Fortunately I had bought a small Chinese portable stove, which kept me from freezing. It is not larger than an ordinary teapot and has a perforated cover. A few pieces of glowing charcoal are embedded in ashes in the tin, which is thus kept warm all day. Up on the camel I had this little comforting contrivance on my knees, and at night I laid it among my rugs when I crept into bed. One day there was such a furious storm over the level and exposed country that we could not move from the spot. We sat wrapped up in our furs and rugs and simply froze.

On arrival at Pao-te I had still 430 miles to travel to the capital of the kingdom, Peking. I was eager to be there, and resolved to hurry forward by forced marches. I hired a small two-wheeled cart, and had no servant with me but the Chinese driver. Islam with an interpreter was to follow slowly after with our baggage.

On this route no fewer than sixty-one Swedish missionaries were at work, and I often stayed in their hospitable houses. At other times I put up in the country inns. They are incredibly dirty, full of noisy travellers, smoke, and vermin. The guest room where you sleep at night must be shared with others. Along the inner wall stands a raised ledge of bricks. It is built like an oven and is heated with cattle-dung beneath; and on the platform the sleeper, if not half suffocated, is at any rate half roasted.

In Kalgan (Chang-kia-kau), where the Great Wall is passed, I exchanged my cart for a carrying chair on two long poles. It was borne by two mules which trotted along over the narrow mountain road leading to Peking. Sometimes we were high above the valley bottom, and met whole rows of caravans, carts, riders, and foot passengers, chairs with mules, and every one was in constant danger of being pushed over the edge.

At last, on March 2, I arrived at Peking, after 1237 days of travelling through Asia, and passed through one of the fine gates in the city walls (Plate XVIII.).

MONGOLIA

Between China in the south and Eastern Siberia on the north, stretches the immense region of inner Asia which is called Mongolia. The Chinese call it the "grass country," but very large parts of it are waterless desert, where drift-sand is piled up into dunes, and caravan routes and wells are far apart. The belt of desert, one of the largest in the world, is called by the Mongols Gobi, a word which in their language denotes desert. The Chinese call it Shamo, which signifies sandy desert.

Mongolia is subject to China, and the Mongols' spiritual superior or pope is the Dalai Lama. They have also a number of Lama monasteries, and make yearly pilgrimages in large parties to Lhasa. An extraordinary proportion of the male population of the country devote themselves to a religious life and become monks. The Chinese are glad of it, for the peaceful cloister life causes the formerly savage and warlike Mongol hordes to forget their own strength. Services before the image of Buddha in the temple halls lead their thoughts in other directions, and they forget that their people once held the sceptre over almost all Asia and half Europe. They do not remember that their forefathers, the Golden Horde, forced their way seven hundred years ago through the Caucasus, levied tribute throughout Russia, and alarmed all the rest of the West. They have forgotten that their fathers conquered all the Middle Kingdom and digged in yellow earth the Grand Canal on which the junks of the Chinese still ply. The sword has rusted fast in its sheath, and the Mongolian chiefs, whom the Chinese call vassals or dependent princes, encamp peacefully on the steppes under their eight bans.

The Mongols are nomads. They own large flocks of sheep and goats, and live on mutton, milk, butter, and cheese. Among their domestic animals are also the two-humped camel and a small, hardy, strongly built horse. Their life is a perpetual wandering. They move with their flocks from one steppe to another. If the herbage is dried up in a district, or all the pasture is eaten up, they put their tents on camels and set out to find better grazing. Their tents are exactly the same as those of the Kirghizes of the Pamir and the Kirghiz Steppe. They are shaped like haycocks, and consist of a framework of tough ribs covered with black felt.



The Mongols are a good-tempered and amiable people. I made acquaintance with them on the outskirts of their wide domain, and once I travelled right through Mongolia. My starting-point was Peking, and my direction due north-west. It was in the end of March and the beginning of April, 1897. At that time the Trans-Siberian Railway was not completed farther than to Kansk, a small town east of the Yenisei. That was the longest drive I ever took in my life, for from Peking to Kansk the distance is 1800 miles, and I only rested a day on the whole journey, namely at Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia.

In Peking I provided myself with all that was necessary for a journey to the Russian frontier. First and foremost a Chinese passport, which authorised me to call out Mongols and their horses, and, if I wished, to put up in their tents. Then provisions had to be bought—tinned meats, bread, tea, sugar, etc. From the Russian Legation I obtained an escort of two Cossacks, who were very delighted to have this chance of returning to their homes in Siberia after completing their time of service in Peking.

In Mongolia the traveller does not drive in the usual way. There is no driver on the box, and you do not lean back comfortably in a four-wheeled carriage on springs. To begin with, there is no road at all and no rest-houses; but horses must be changed frequently, and this is done in the Mongolian villages. The Mongols, however, are nomads, and their villages are always on the move. Therefore you must know first of all where the villages happen to be, and in the second place must give the people notice to have a certain number of horses ready. A mounted messenger is sent on in advance for this purpose and then the horses are never wanting. Only the Mongols themselves know where the next villages are situated, and so at every village a fresh retinue of Mongols is provided. And because the villages are being constantly moved you can only travel in a straight line between them, and cannot follow any determined route. You drive along over desert and steppe, and usually see no vestige of an old wheel rut.

The vehicle in which you travel is a very simple contrivance. It is a cart on two medium-sized wheels, closed all over with a rounded tilt covered with blue cloth. A small window in front and two side windows allow you to see over the steppe; the window glass is fixed into the stretched cloth so that it cannot be cracked by the jolting. The cart has no springs, and its bottom rests directly on the axles. There is no seat, and the traveller sits on cushions, furs, and rugs, and there is only room for one person. The cart is of the usual Chinese pattern with shafts for a mule or horse. In China the driver sits on one of the shafts or runs alongside. I had my bags strapped on to the base of the shafts. My large baggage was forwarded on camels, and it reached Stockholm six months after I did.

The style of harnessing is the most curious of all. A loop of rope is fastened to the extreme end of each shaft, and a long, rounded cross-bar is passed through the two loops. Two mounted Mongols lay the bar across their knees in the saddle, but no draught animal is put between the shafts. A rope is fastened to each end of the cross-bar and two other riders wind these ropes twice round their bodies. They have all riding whips, and when all is ready the four riders dash at full speed over the steppe, dragging the cart after them.

Twenty other Mongols ride on each side, half hidden in clouds of dust. Suddenly two of them ride up beside the men who hold the cross-bar on their knees. Of their own accord the two fresh horses slip their heads under the bar, letting it fall on to the riders' knees, while the men who are relieved hold in their horses and let the cart roll on. These then join the rest of the troop. The cart does not stop during this change of horses, which is accomplished in a couple of seconds, and a furious pace is always kept up. In the same way the two front riders and their horses are relieved without stopping. When one of them is tired, a fresh rider comes forward and winds the rope round his waist.

After two or three hours a village of several tents is seen on the steppe ahead of us. About thirty horses are held in readiness by the headman of the village, who has been warned the day before by the messenger. At every stage a few roubles[16] are paid to the Mongol attendants. This payment has always to be made in silver roubles, for the Mongols will not take paper money or small coins.

Thus we go on and on, it would seem interminably, over the boundless steppe—each day the same bumping and jolting, each day the same monotonous landscape. In northern Mongolia, however, snow lay deep on the ground, and here the cart was drawn by men on camels. By this time I was so bruised and worn out with the continual jolting that it was a pleasure to drive on the soft snow.

MARCO POLO

In 1162 was born in Mongolia a chief of the savage mounted hordes who bore the name of Jenghiz Khan. He subdued all the surrounding tribes, and the whole Mongol race was collected under his banner. The more his power increased, the more extensive regions he desired to conquer, and he did not rest till practically all Asia was reduced under his rule. His motto was "One God in heaven and one Great Khan on earth." He was not content with a kingdom as large as that of Alexander or Caesar, but wished to reign over all the known world, and with this aim before his eyes he rode with his horsemen from country to country over the great continent. Everywhere he left sorrow and mourning, burnt and pillaged towns in his track. He was the greatest and most savage conqueror known in history. When he was at the height of his power he collected treasure from innumerable different peoples, from the peninsula of Further India to Novgorod, from Japan to Silesia. To his court came ambassadors from the French kings and the Turkish sultans, from the Russian Grand Dukes and the Khalifs and Popes of the time. No man before or since has caused such a stir among the sons of men, and brought such different peoples into involuntary communication with one another. Jenghiz Khan ruled over more than half the human race, and even in many of the countries which he pillaged and destroyed his memory is feared even to this day.

At his death Jenghiz Khan was sixty-five years old, and he bequeathed his immense kingdom to his four sons. One of these was the father of Kublai Khan, who conquered China in 1280 and established the Mongolian dynasty in the Middle Kingdom. His court was even more brilliant than that of his grandfather, and an exact description both of the great Khan and his empire was given by the great traveller Marco Polo.

In the year 1260 two merchants from Venice were dwelling in Constantinople. They were named Nicolo and Maffeo Polo. Their desire to open trade relations with Asia induced them to travel to the Crimea, and thence across the Volga and through Bukhara to the court of the Great Khan, Kublai. Up to that time only vague rumours of the great civilized empire far in the East had been spread by Catholic missionaries.

The Great Khan, who had never seen Europeans, was pleased at the arrival of the Venetians, received them kindly, and made them tell of all the wonderful things in their own country. Finally he decided to send them back with a letter to the Pope, in which he begged him to send a hundred wise and learned missionaries out to the East. He wished to employ them in training and enlightening the rude tribes of the steppe.

After nine years' absence the travellers returned to Venice. The Pope was dead, and they waited two years fruitlessly for a successor to be elected. As, then, they did not wish the Great Khan to believe them untrustworthy, they decided to return to the Far East, and on this journey they took with them Nicolo's son, Marco Polo, aged fifteen years.

Our three travellers betook themselves from Syria to Mosul, quite close to the ruins of Nineveh on the Tigris, and thence to Baghdad and Hormuz, a town situated on the small strait between the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea. Then they proceeded northwards through the whole of Persia and northern Afghanistan, and along the Amu-darya to the Pamir, following routes which had to wait 600 years for new travellers from Europe. Past Yarkand, Khotan, and Lop-nor, and through the whole of the Gobi desert, they finally made their way to China.

It was in the year 1275 that, after several years' wanderings, they came to the court of the Great Khan in eastern Mongolia. The potentate was so delighted with Marco Polo, who learned to read and write several Eastern languages, that he took him into his service. The first commission he entrusted to the young Venetian was an official journey to northern and western China. Polo had noticed that Kublai Khan liked to hear curious and extraordinary accounts from foreign countries, and he therefore treasured up in his memory all he saw and experienced in order to relate it to the Emperor on his return. Accordingly he steadily rose higher in the estimation of Kublai Khan, and was sent out on other official journeys, even as far as India and the borders of Tibet, was for three years governor of a large town, and was also employed at the capital, Peking.

Marco Polo relates how the Emperor goes hunting. He sits in a palanquin like a small room, with a roof, and carried by four elephants. The outside of the palanquin is overlaid with plates of beaten gold and the inside is draped with tiger skins. A dozen of his best gerfalcons are beside him, and near at hand ride several of his attendant lords. Presently one of them will exclaim, "Look, Sire, there are some cranes." Then the Emperor has the roof opened and throws out one of the falcons to strike down the game; this sport gives him great satisfaction. Then he comes to his camp, which is composed of 10,000 tents. His own audience tent is so large that it can easily hold 1000 persons, and he has another for private interviews, and a third for sleeping. They are supported by three tent-poles, are covered outside with tiger skins, and inside with ermine and sable. Marco Polo says that the tents are so fine and costly that it is not every king who could pay for them.

Only the most illustrious noblemen can wait on the Emperor at table. They have cloths of silk and gold wound over their mouths and noses that their breath may not pollute the dishes and cups presented to His Majesty. And every time the Emperor drinks, a powerful band of music strikes up, and all who are present fall on their knees.

All merchants who come to the capital, and especially those who bring gold and silver, precious stones and pearls, must sell their valuables to the Emperor alone. Marco Polo thinks it quite natural that Kublai Khan should have greater treasures than all the kings of the world, for he pays only with paper money, which he makes as he likes, for notes were current at that time in China.

So Marco Polo and his father and uncle lived for many long years in the Middle Kingdom, and by their cleverness and patient industry accumulated much property. But the Emperor, their protector, was old, and they feared that their position would be very different after his death. They longed, too, to go home to Venice, but whenever they spoke of setting out, Kublai Khan bade them stay a little longer.

However, an event occurred which facilitated their departure. Persia also stood under the supremacy of the Mongols, and its prince or Khan was a close connection of Kublai Khan. The Persian Khan had lost his favourite wife, and now desired to carry out the wish she had expressed on her deathbed that he should marry a princess of her own race. Therefore he despatched an embassy to Kublai Khan. It was well received, and a young, beautiful princess was selected for the Khan of Persia. But the land journey of over 4000 miles from Peking to Tabriz was considered too trying for a young woman, so the ambassadors decided to return by sea.

They had conceived a great friendship and respect for the three Venetians, and they requested Kublai Khan to send them with them, for they were skilful mariners, and Marco Polo had lately been in India, and could give them much valuable information about the sea route thither. At last Kublai Khan yielded, and equipped the whole party with great liberality. In the year 1292 they sailed southwards from the coast of China.

Many misfortunes, storms, shipwreck, and fever befell them on the voyage. They tarried long on the coasts of Sumatra and India, a large part of the crew perished and two of the three ambassadors died, but the young lady and her Venetian cavaliers at last reached Persia safe and sound. As the Khan had died, the princess had to put up with his nephew, and she was much distressed when the Polos took leave of her to return home to Venice by way of Tabriz, Trebizond, the Bosporus, and Constantinople. There they arrived in the year 1295, having been absent for twenty-four years.

Their relatives and friends had supposed them to be dead long before. They had almost forgotten their mother tongue, and appeared in their native city in shabby Asiatic clothes. The first thing they did was to go to the old house of their fathers and knock at the door; but their relations did not recognize them, would not believe their romantic story, and sent them about their business.

The three Polos accordingly took another house and here made a great feast for all their family. When the guests were all seated round the table and the banquet was about to commence, the three hosts entered, dressed down to the feet in garments of costly crimson silk. And as water was taken round for the guests to wash their hands, they exchanged their dresses for Asiatic mantles of the finest texture, the silken dresses being cut into pieces and distributed among their retainers. Then they appeared in robes of the most valuable velvet, while the mantles were divided among the servants, and lastly the velvet went the same way.

All the guests were astonished at what they saw. When the board was cleared and the servants were gone, Marco Polo brought in the shabby, tattered clothes the three travellers had worn when their relatives would not acknowledge them. The seams of these garments were ripped up with sharp knives, and out poured heaps of jewels on to the table—rubies, sapphires, carbuncles, diamonds, and emeralds. When Kublai Khan gave them leave to depart they exchanged all their wealth for precious stones, because they knew that they could not carry a heavy weight of gold such a long way. They had sewed the stones in their clothes that no one might suspect that they had them.

When the guests saw these treasures scattered over the table their astonishment knew no bounds. And now all had to acknowledge that these three gentlemen were really the missing members of the Polo house. So they became the object of the greatest reverence and respect. When news about them spread through Venice the good citizens crowded to their house, all eager to embrace and welcome the far-travelled men and to pay them homage. "The young men came daily to visit and converse with the ever polite and gracious Messer Marco, and to ask him questions about Cathay and the Great Can, all which he answered with such kindly courtesy that every man felt himself in a manner his debtor." But when he talked of the Great Khan's immense wealth, and of other treasures accumulated in Eastern lands, he continually spoke of millions and millions, and therefore he was nicknamed by his countrymen Messer Marco Millioni.

At that time, and for long afterwards, great envy and jealousy raged between the three great commercial republics, Venice, Genoa, and Pisa. In the year 1298 the Genoese equipped a mighty fleet which ravaged the Venetian territory on the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic Sea. Here it was met by the Venetian fleet, in which Marco Polo commanded a galley. After a hot fight the Genoese gained the victory, and with 7000 prisoners sailed home to Genoa, where they made a grand procession through the city amidst the jubilation of the people. The prisoners were put in chains and cast into prison, and among them was Marco Polo.

In the prison Marco had a companion in misfortune, the author Rusticiano from Pisa. It was he who recorded Marco Polo's remarkable adventures in Asia from his dictation, and therefore there is cause of satisfaction at the result of the battle, for otherwise the name of Marco Polo might perhaps have been unknown to posterity.

After a year prisoners were exchanged and Marco Polo returned to Venice, where he married and had three daughters. In the year 1324 he died, and was buried in the Church of San Lorenzo in Venice.

On his deathbed he was admonished to retract his extraordinary narrative. No reliance was placed on his words, and even at the beginning of the eighteenth century there were learned men who maintained that his whole story was an excellently planned romance. The narrative taken down in prison was, however, distributed in an innumerable number of manuscript copies. The great Christopher Columbus, discoverer of America, found in it a support to his conviction that by sailing west a man would at length come to India.

There are many curious statements in Marco Polo's book. He speaks of the "Land of Darkness" in the north, and of islands in the northern sea which lie so far north that if a man travels thither he leaves the pole-star behind him. We miss also much that we should expect to find. Thus, for example, Marco Polo does not once mention the Great Wall, though he must have passed through it several times. Still his book is a treasure of geographical information, and most of his discoveries and reports were confirmed five hundred years later. His life was a long romance, and he occupies one of the most foremost places among discoverers of all ages.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] Since this was written, China has become a republic, the Emperor P'u-yi (born February 11, 1906) having abdicated on February 12, 1912, in consequence of the success of a revolution which broke out in the autumn of 1911. He still retains the title of Manchu Emperor, but with his death the title will cease. A provisional President of the Republic was elected, and the first Cabinet was constituted on March 29, 1912.

[15] The Republic has adopted a new flag consisting of five stripes—crimson, yellow, white, blue, and black—to denote the five principal races comprised in the Chinese people, Mongol, Chinese, Manchu, Mohammedan, and Tibetan.

[16] A Russian coin, worth about 2s, 1 1/8d.



XIII

JAPAN (1908)

NAGASAKI AND KOBE

Marco Polo was also the first European to make Japan known in Western countries. He called it Chipangu, and stated that it was a large, rich island in the sea east of China. Accordingly the Chinese call it the "Land of the Rising Sun," and Nippon, as the Japanese themselves call their islands, has the same poetical signification, derived from the rising of the sun out of the waves of the Pacific Ocean. The flag of Japan displays a red sun on a white field, and when it flies from the masts of warships the sun is surrounded by sixteen red rays.

We leave Shanghai by the fine steamer Tenyo Maru, which is driven by turbines and makes 18 knots an hour. The Tenyo Maru belongs to a line which plies between Hong-kong and San Francisco, calling at Shanghai, Japan, and the Sandwich Islands on the way. From Shanghai it is 470 miles over the Eastern Sea to Nagasaki, a considerable town situated on Kiu-shiu, the southernmost of the four islands of Japan proper.

As we near Japan the vessel crosses the great current called the "Kuro Shiwo," or the "Black Salt." It comes from the region immediately north of the equator, and flows northwards, washing the Japanese coast with its water, over 200 fathoms deep, and with a temperature of 72 deg., just as the Gulf Stream washes the east coast of Europe. Off Japan the sea is very deep, the lead sinking down to 4900 fathoms and more.

In Nagasaki the visitor is astonished at the great shipbuilding yards and docks; they are the largest in Asia, and the Tenyo Maru, as well as other ships as big, have been, for the most part at any rate, built here. It is hard to believe that it is only forty years since the Japanese took to European civilization and the inventions of Western lands. In many respects they have surpassed their teachers.



After a whole day in Nagasaki we steam out to sea again and make northwards round Kiu-shiu to the beautiful narrow strait at Shimonoseki which leads to the Inland Sea. Unfortunately it is pitch dark when we pass Admiral Togo's fleet. He has just been engaged in manoeuvres with eighty-five of Japan's two hundred modern warships. In sea-power Japan is the fifth nation of the world, and is only surpassed by England, Germany, America, and France. A large number of their warships were captured from Russia during the war, and afterwards refitted and re-christened with Japanese names. On a peace footing the land army of Japan contains 250,000 men and 11,000 officers. In time of war, when all the reservists and landwehr troops are called out, the strength amounts to a million and a half; 120,000 men yearly are called out for active service. The Japanese make any sacrifice when it is a question of the defence of their fatherland. To them affection for Nippon is a religion.

The area of Japan is about half as large again as that of the British Islands, and the population is, roughly, a quarter more. But if the recently acquired parts of the mainland, Korea and Kwan-tung, be included, 77,000 square miles must be added and the population increased to 65 millions.

Early on the morning of November 9 we pass through the strait of Shimonoseki into the Inland Sea, the Mediterranean of Japan, which lies between the islands Hondo, Kiu-shiu, and Shikoku. The scenery which unfolds itself on all sides is magnificent, and is constantly changing. Close around us, away over the open passages and in among the dark islands, is the clear, green, salt water, edged with foaming surf and dotted with picturesque fishing-boats under full sail; and as a frame to the gently heaving sea we have the innumerable islands—some large, some small, some wooded, others bare, but all sloping steeply to the shore, where the breakers thunder eternally. A pleasant breeze is felt on the promenade deck of the Tenyo Maru, the air is fresh and pure, the day bright and cheerful, and from sea and coast comes a curious mixed odour of salt brine and pine needles.

At dusk we cast anchor in the roadstead of Kobe, where the Tenyo Maru has to remain for twenty-four hours in order to take cargo on board. A launch takes us to the busy town, and we determine to spend the night on shore in a genuine Japanese hotel. At the entrance we are met by the landlord, in a garment like a petticoat and a thin mantle with short hanging sleeves. Two small waiting-maids take off our shoes and put a pair of slippers on our feet. We go up a narrow wooden staircase and along a passage with a brightly polished wooden floor. Outside a sliding door we take off our slippers and enter in stocking feet. Cleanliness is the first rule in a Japanese house, and it would be thought inexcusable to enter a room in shoes which had lately been in the dust and dirt of the lanes and streets.

Our rooms are divided from one another by partitions of paper or the thinnest veneer, which can be partially drawn aside so that the rooms may be thrown into one. Here and there mottoes are inscribed on hanging shields, and we see that they are written in the same singular characters as are used in China. On one wall hangs a kakemono, or a long strip of paper with flowers painted in water-colours. On a small carved wooden stool below the painting stands a dwarf tree scarcely two feet in height. It is a cherry-tree which has been prevented from growing to its full size, but it is a real, living tree, perhaps twenty years old, and exactly like an ordinary cherry-tree, only so small that it might have come from Lilliput.

The floor is laid with mats of rice straw with black borders. Each mat is 6 feet long and 3 wide, and when a house is built the areas of the rooms are always calculated in a certain number of mats; thus a room of six mats is spoken of, or one of eight mats. Not infrequently the rooms are so small that three or even two mats will cover the floor.

We take our seats crossed-legged or on our heels on small, square, down cushions, the only furniture to be seen. A young Japanese maiden, also in stocking feet, enters and places a stove in the middle of our circle. There is no fireplace. This stove is shaped like a flower-pot, made of thick metal, and is filled with fine white ashes. The young woman builds the ashes up into a cone like the summit of Fujiyama and lays fresh glowing charcoal against it. Instead of tongs she uses a pair of small iron rods.

Bedsteads are not used in Japan, and the bedding, which consists of thick padded quilts of rustling silk, is simply spread out on the mats on the floor. All the service and attendance is performed by women. They are dressed in their becoming and tasteful national costume, the "kimono," a close-fitting coloured garment, cut out round the neck, a broad sash of cloth round the waist, and a large rosette like a cushion at the back. Their hair is jet black, smooth, and shiny, and is arranged in tresses that look as if they were carved in ebony. Japanese women are always clean, neat, and dainty, and it is vain to look for a speck of dust on a silken cuff. If they did not giggle sometimes, you might think that they were dolls of wax or china. They are treated like princesses with the greatest politeness and consideration, for such is the custom of the country. They do their work conscientiously, and are always cheerful, contented, and friendly.



We sit down on our cushions for breakfast. The serving-girls bring in a small red-lacquered table, not larger or higher than a footstool. Every guest has his own table, and on each are five cups, bowls, and small dishes of porcelain and lacquer, all of them with lids like teapots. These contain raw fish and boiled fish in various forms, omelettes and macaroni, crab soup with asparagus in it, and many other strange viands. When we have partaken of the first five dishes, another table is brought in with fresh dishes; and if it is a great banquet, as many as four or five such tables may be placed before one before the dinner is over. We eat with two chopsticks of wood or ivory not larger than a penholder, drink pale, weak tea without sugar and cream, and a kind of weak rice spirit called sake. When a bowl of steaming rice cooked dry is brought in, it is a sign that the meal is ended.

* * * * *

The streets of Kobe are not paved. They are narrow roads, too narrow for the large, clumsy vehicles, which are, however, few in number, and are mostly used for the transport of goods. The people ride in "rickshas"—neat, smart, two-wheeled gigs drawn by a running bare-legged man with a mushroom-shaped hat on his head (Plate XIX.). The road westwards along the coast runs through a succession of animated and busy villages, past open tea-houses and small country shops, homely, decorated wooden dwellings, temples, fields, and gardens. Everything is small, neat, and well kept. Each peasant cultivates his own property with care and affection, and the harvest from innumerable small plots constitutes the wealth of Japan. It is impossible to drive fast along the narrow road, for we are always meeting waggons and two-wheeled carts, porters, and travellers.

At the "Beach of Dancing Girls" we stay a while under some old pine-trees. Here people bathe in summer, while the children play among the trees. But now in November it is cold rather than warm, and after a pleasant excursion we return to Kobe. On the way we look into a Shinto temple erected to the memory of a hero who six hundred years ago fell in a battle in the neighbourhood. In the temple court stands a large Russian cannon taken at Port Arthur, and also a part of the mast shot off the man-of-war Mikasa.

Buddhism was introduced into Japan in the sixth century A.D., and more than half the population of the country profess this religion. The old faith of Japan, however, is Shintoism, to which about one-third of the people still belong. The sun is worshipped as a principal god and the powers of nature are adored as divinities. From the solar deity the imperial house derives its origin, and the Emperor is regarded with almost religious reverence. Respect is also paid to the memory of departed heroes, as in China. Of late Christianity has spread far and wide in Japan, and Christian churches are now numerous.

FUJIYAMA AND TOKIO

It is now November 11. During the night the Tenyo Maru has passed out from Kobe into the Pacific Ocean, and is now steering north-east at a good distance from the coast of Hondo. The sky is gloomy, and the desert of water around us is a monotonous steely-grey expanse in every direction.

The Mediterranean countries of Europe lie on the same parallel of latitude as Japan. But Japan lies in the domain of the monsoons or periodical winds, and when these blow in summer from the ocean, they bring rain with them, while the winter, when the wind comes from the opposite direction, is fairly dry. On the whole Japan is colder than the Mediterranean countries, but the difference in climate between the northern and southern parts is very great. On the northern island, Yezo, the winter lasts quite seven months.

At noon Fujiyama[17] is first seen towards the north-east. Nothing of the coast is visible, only the snowy summit of the mountain floating white above the sea. Our course takes us straight towards it, and the imposing mountain becomes more distinct every quarter of an hour. Now also the coast comes in sight as a dark line, but only the summit of the mountain is visible, a singularly regular flat cone. The top looks as if it were cut off; that is the crater ring, for Fujiyama is a volcano, though it has been quiescent for the past two centuries.

The snowfields in the gullies stand out more and more clearly, but still only the summit is visible, floating as it were free above the earth, a vision among the clouds. An hour later the whole contour comes into view and becomes sharper and sharper; and when we anchor off the shore the peak of Fujiyama rises right above us.

Fujiyama is the highest mountain in Japan, and the crater ring of the slumbering volcano is 12,395 feet above the surface of the Pacific Ocean. Fujiyama is a holy mountain; the path up it is lined with small temples and shrines, and many pilgrims ascend to the top in summer when the snow has melted away. It is the pride of Japan and the grandest object of natural beauty the country possesses (Plate XX.). It would be vain to try to enumerate all the objects on which the cone of Fujiyama has been represented from immemorial times. It is always the same mountain with the truncated top—in silver and gold on the famous lacquered boxes, and on the rare choice silver and bronze caskets, on the valuable vases in cloisonne, on bowls, plaques, and dishes, on screens, parasols, everything.



Painters also take a delight in devising various foregrounds to the white cone. I once saw a book of a hundred pictures of Fujiyama, each with a new foreground. Now the holy mountain was seen between the boughs of Japanese cedars, now between the tall trunks of trees, and again beneath their crowns. Once more it appeared above a foaming waterfall, or over a quiet lake, where the peak was reflected in the water; or above a swinging bridge, a group of playing children, or between the masts of fishing-boats. It peeped out through a temple gate or at the end of one of the streets of Tokio, between the ripening ears of a rice-field or the raised parasols of dancing girls.

Thus Fujiyama has become the symbol of everything that the name Nippon implies, and its peak is the first point which catches the rays of the rising sun at the dawn of day.

Singularly cold and pale the holy mountain stands out against the dark blue sky as we steer out again to sea in the moonlight night. It is our last night on the long sea voyage from Bombay. Close to starboard we have Oshima, the "great island," an active volcano with thin vapour floating above its flat summit; Japan has more than a hundred extinct and a score of still active volcanoes, and the country is also visited by frequent earthquakes. On an average 1200 are counted in the year, most of them, however, quite insignificant. Now and then, however, they are very destructive, carrying off thousands of victims, and it is on account of the earthquakes that the Japanese build their houses of wood and make them low.

In the early morning the Tenyo Maru glides into the large inlet on which Yokohama and Tokio are situated. Yokohama is an important commercial town, and is a port of call for a large number of steamboat lines from the four continents. Its population is about 400,000, of whom 1000 are Europeans—merchants, consuls, and missionaries.

A few miles south-west of Yokohama is the fishing-village of Kamakura, which was for many centuries the capital of the Shoguns. It has now little to show for its former greatness—at one time it was said to have over a million inhabitants—except the beautiful, colossal statue of Buddha, the Daibutsu (Plate XXI.). The figure, which is about 40 feet high, is cast in bronze, and dates from 1252.

At the head of the bay lies Tokio, the capital, with over two million inhabitants. Here are many palaces surrounded by fine parks, but the people live in small, neat, wooden houses, most of them with garden enclosures. The grounds of the Japanese of rank are small masterpieces of taste and excellence. It is a great relief to come out of the bustle and dust of the roads into these peaceful retreats, where small canals and brooks murmur among blocks of grey stone and where trees bend their crowns over arched bridges.

In Tokio the traveller can study both the old and the new Japan, There are museums of all kinds, picture galleries, schools, and a university organized on the European model. There is also a geological institution where very accurate geological maps are compiled of the whole country, and where in particular all the phenomena connected with volcanoes and earthquakes are investigated. In scientific inquiries the Japanese are on a par with Europeans. In the art of war they perhaps excel white peoples. In industrial undertakings they have appropriated all the inventions of our age, and in commerce they threaten to push their Western rivals out of Asia. Not many years ago, for example, some Japanese went to Sweden to study the manufacture of those safety matches which strike only on the box. Now they make safety matches themselves, and supply not only Japan but practically all the East. At Kobe one can often see a whole mountain of wooden boxes containing matches, waiting for shipment to China and Korea. So it is in all other branches of industry. The Japanese travel to Europe and study the construction of turbines, railway carriages, telephones, and soon they can dispense with Europe and produce all they want themselves.

The present Emperor of Japan, Mutsuhito,[18] came to the throne in 1867. His reign is called Mei-ji, or the "Era of Enlightened Rule." During this period Japan has developed into a Great Power of the first rank, and it is in no small measure due to the wisdom and clear-sightedness of the Emperor that this great transformation has been accomplished.

Formerly the country was divided into many small principalities under the rule of daimios or feudal lords, who were often at war with one another, though they were all subject to the suzerainty of the Shogun, the nominal ruler of the whole country. Together with the samurais the daimios constituted the feudal nobility. It is curious to think that little more than forty years ago the Japanese fought with bows and arrows, sword and spear, and that the samurais went to battle in heavy harness with brassards and cuisses, helms and visors over the face. They were skilful archers, and wielded their great swords with both hands when they rushed on the foe.



Then the new period suddenly began. In 1872 universal service was introduced, and French and German officers were invited to organise the defensive force. Now Japan is so strong that no Great Power in the world cares to measure its strength with it.

NIKKO, NARA, AND KIOTO

From Tokio we travel northwards by train in two hours to Nikko. There are several villages, and we put up in one of them. In front of the inn ripples a clear stream, spanned by two bridges, one of which is arched and furnished with a red parapet. Only the Emperor and his family may step on to this bridge; other mortals must pass over another bridge near at hand. On the farther side we ascend a tremendously long avenue of grand cryptomerias rising straight up to the sky. It leads to a mausoleum erected to the memory of the first Shogun of the famous dynasty of Tokugawa. The first of them died in the year 1616.

This mausoleum is considered to be the most remarkable sight in Japan. It is not huge and massive, like the Buddhist temple in Kioto, the old capital of Japan. It is somewhat small, but both outside and inside it displays unusually exquisite artistic skill. Granite steps lead up to it. A torii, or portal, is artistically carved in stone, and another is so perfect that the architect feared the envy of the gods, and therefore placed one of the pillars upside down. We see carved in wood three apes, one holding his hands before his eyes, another over his ears, and the third over his mouth. That means that they will neither see, hear, nor speak anything evil. A pagoda rises in five blood-red storeys. At all the projections of the roof hang round bells, which sound melodiously to the movement of the wind. In the interior of the temple the sightseer is lost in dark passages dimly illuminated by oil lamps carried by the priests. The walls are all covered with the finest paintings in gold and lacquer. A moss-grown stone staircase leads down to the tomb where the Shogun sleeps.

Nara is situated immediately to the south of Kioto. Here are many famous temples, pagodas, and torii, and here also is the largest image of Buddha in Japan, twelve hundred years old. The finest thing of all, however, is the temple park of Nara, where silence and peace reign in a grove of tall cryptomerias. Along the walks are several rows of stone lamps placed on high pedestals of stone. They stand close together and may number a thousand. Each of these lamps is a gift of some wealthy man to the temple. On great festivals oil lamps are placed in them. Hundreds of roedeer live in the park of Nara. They are as tame as lambs, and wherever you go they come skipping up with easy, lively jumps. Barley cakes for them to eat are sold along the paths of the park, and you buy a whole basket of these. In a minute you are surrounded by roedeer, stretching out their delicate, pretty heads and gazing at the basket with their lovely brown eyes. Here a wonderful air of peace and happiness prevails. The steps of roedeer and pilgrims are heard on the sand of the paths, but otherwise there is complete silence and quiet. The feeling reminds one of that which is experienced at the Taj Mahal.

All Japan is like a museum. You can travel about for years and daily find new gems of natural beauty and of the most perfect art. Everything seems so small and delicate. Even the people are small. The roads are narrow, and are chiefly used by rickshas and foot passengers. The houses are dolls' closets. The railways are of narrow gauge, and the carriages like our tramcars. But if you wish to see something large you can visit the Buddhist temple in Kioto. There we are received with boundless hospitality by the high priest, Count Otani, who leads us round and shows us the huge halls where Buddha sits dreaming, and his own palace, which is one of the most richly and expensively adorned in all Japan.

If you wish to see something else which does not exactly belong to the small things of Japan you should visit a temple in Osaka, the chief manufacturing town of Japan. There hangs a bell which is 25 feet high and weighs 220 tons. In a frame beside the bell is suspended a beam, a regular battering-ram, which is set in motion up and down when the bell is sounded. And when the bell emits its heavy, deafening ring it sounds like thunder.

Kioto is much handsomer than Tokio, for it has been less affected by the influence of Western lands, and lies amidst hills and gardens. Kioto is the genuine old Japan with attractive bazaars and bright streets. Shall we look into a couple of shops?

Here is an art-dealer's. We enter from the street straight into a large room full of interesting things, but the dealer takes us into quite a small room, where he invites us to sit at a table. And now he brings out one costly article after another. First he shows us some gold lacquered boxes, on which are depicted trees and houses and the sun in gold, and golden boats sailing over water. One tiny box, containing several compartments and drawers, and covered all over with the finest gold inlaying, costs only three thousand yen, or about three hundred pounds. Then he shows us an old man in ivory lying on a carpet of ivory and reading a book, while a small boy in ivory has climbed on to his back. From a whole elephant tusk a number of small elephants have been carved, becoming smaller towards the point of the tusk, but all cut out in the same piece. You are tired of looking at them, they are so many, and they are all executed with such exact faithfulness to nature that you would hardly be surprised if they began to move.

Then he sets on the table a dozen metal boxes exquisitely adorned with coloured lacquer. On the lid of a silver box an adventure of a monkey is represented in raised work. Pursued by a snake, the monkey has taken refuge in a cranny beneath a projecting rock. The snake sits on the top. He cannot see the monkey, but he catches sight of his reflection in the water below the stone. The monkey, too, sees the image of the snake, and each is now waiting for the other.

Now the shopman comes with two tortoises in bronze. The Japanese are experts in metal-work, and there is almost life and movement in these creatures. Now he throws on to the table a snake three feet long. It is composed of numberless small movable rings of iron fastened together, and looks marvellously life-like. Just at the door stands a heavy copper bowl on a lacquered tripod, a gong that sounds like a temple bell when its edge is struck with a skin-covered stick. It is beaten out of a single piece, not cast, and therefore it has such a wonderful vibrating and long-continued ring.

Let us also go into one of the famous large silk shops. Shining white silk with white embroidered chrysanthemum flowers on it—women's kimonos with clusters of blue flowers on the sleeves and skirt—landscapes, fishing-boats, ducks and pigeons, monkeys and tigers, all painted or embroidered on silk—herons and cranes in thick raised needlework on screens in black frames—everything is good and tasteful.

Among the most exquisite, however, are the cloths of cut velvet. This is a wonderful art not found in any other country than Japan. The finest white silken threads are tightly woven over straight copper wires laid close together, making a white cloth of perhaps ten feet square, interwoven with copper wires. An artist paints in bright colours on the cloth a landscape, a rushing brook among red maples, a bridge, a mill-wheel, and a hut on the bank. When he has done, he cuts with a sharp knife along each of the numberless copper wires. Every time he cuts, the point of the knife follows one of the copper wires, and he cuts only over the coloured parts. The fine silk threads are thus severed and their ends stand up like a brush. Then the copper wires are drawn out, and there stand the red trees, hut, and bridge in close velvet on a foundation of silk.

In all kinds of handicrafts and mechanical work the Japanese are experts. A workman will sit with inexhaustible patience and diligence for days, and even months and years, executing in ivory a boy carrying a fruit basket on his back. He strikes and cuts with his small hammers and knives, his chisels and files, and gives himself no rest until the boy is finished. Perhaps it may cost him a year's work, but the price is so high that all his expenses for the year are covered when the boy is sold to an art-dealer.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] "Fuji," without equal; "yama," mountain.

[18] The Emperor Mutsuhito died on July 30, 1912, and was succeeded by his eldest son, Yoshihito, who was born in 1879.



XIV

BACK TO EUROPE

KOREA

Our journey eastwards ends with Japan, and we turn westwards on our way back to Europe. The portion of the mainland of Asia which lies nearest to Japan is Korea, and the passage across the straits from Shimonoseki to Fu-san takes only about ten hours. The steamer sails in the morning, and late in the afternoon we see to larboard the Tsushima Islands rising out of the water like huge dolphins. Our course takes us almost over the exact place where, on May 27, 1905, Admiral Togo annihilated the squadron of the Russian Admiral Rozhdestvenski.

The Russian fleet had sailed round Asia, and steamed up east of Formosa to the Strait of Korea. The Admiral hoped to be able to reach Vladivostock, on the Russian side of the Sea of Japan, without being attacked, and on May 27 his fleet was approaching the Tsushima Islands. But Admiral Togo, with the Japanese fleet, lay waiting off the southern coast of Korea. He had divided the straits into squares on a map, and his scouting boats were constantly on the look-out. They could always communicate with Togo's flagship by wireless telegraphy. And now currents passing through the air announced that the Russian fleet was in sight, and was in the square numbered 203. This number was considered a good omen by the Japanese, for the fate of the fortress of Port Arthur was sealed when the Japanese took a fort called "203-metre Hill" (Port Arthur, which lies on the coast of the Chinese mainland, had fallen into the hands of the Japanese on January 1, 1905).

When the news came, Togo knew what to do. With his large ships and sixty torpedo boats he fell upon the Russian fleet, and the battle was decided within an hour. The Russian Admiral's flagship sank just on the spot where we are now on the way to Fu-san. The Admiral himself was rescued, sorely wounded, by the Japanese. His fleet was dispersed, and its various divisions were pursued, sunk, or captured. The Russians lost thirty-four ships and ten thousand men. It was a bloody encounter which took place on these usually so peaceful waters. The Japanese became masters of the sea, and could, unhindered, transport troops, provisions, and war material over to the mainland, where the war with Russia still raged in Manchuria.

From Fu-san, which for two hundred years has been a Japanese town, the railway takes us northwards through the Korean peninsula. We ascend the beautiful valley of the Nak-tong-gang River. Side valleys opening here and there afford interesting views, and between them dark hills descend steeply to the river, which often spreads out and flows so gently that the surface of the water forms a smooth mirror. The sky is clear and turquoise-blue in colour, and spans its vault over greyish-brown bare mountains. Where the ground on the valley bottom is level it is occupied by rice and wheat fields. Every now and then we pass a busy village of grey thatched houses, where groups of women and children in coloured garments are seen outside the cabins. The men wear long white coats, and on the head a thin black hat in the form of a stunted cone with flat brim. Seldom are the eyes caught by a clump of trees; as a rule the country is bare. Innumerable small mounds are often seen on the slopes; these are Korean graves.

The signs of Japan's peaceful conquest of Korea are everywhere apparent. Japanese guards, policemen, soldiers, and officials are seen at the stations; the country now contains more than 200,000 Japanese. Settlers from Japan, however, take up their residence only for a time in the foreign country. For example, a landowner in Japan will sell half his property there, and with the proceeds buy land in Korea three or four times as large as all his estate in the home country, and in fertility at least as good. There he farms for some years, and then returns home with the profits he has earned. Numbers of Japanese fishermen also come yearly to the coasts of Korea with their boats, and return home to Japan with their catch. Thus Korea is deluged with Japanese of all kinds. The army is Japanese, Japanese fortresses are erected along the northern frontier, the government and officials are Japanese, and soon Korea will become simply a part of the Land of the Rising Sun.



We cross the range of mountains which runs like a backbone all through Korea from north to south, and late in the evening we come to the capital, Seoul, which has 280,000 inhabitants, a fifth of whom are Japanese. The town is confined in a valley between bare cliffs, and from the heights all that can be seen is confusion of grey and white houses with gabled roofs covered with grey tiles. In the Japanese quarter life goes on exactly as in Japan; rows of coloured paper lanterns hang now, at night, before the open shops, and trade is brisk and lively. In the Korean quarters the lanes are narrow and dismal, but the principal streets are wider, with tramcars rattling amidst the varied Asiatic scenes. Here are sedan chairs (Plate XXII.), caravans of big oxen laden with firewood, heavy carts with goods, men carrying unusually heavy loads on a framework of wooden ribs on their backs, women sailing past in white garments and a veil over their smooth-plaited hair. A row of grown men and boys pass through the streets carrying boards with Korean inscriptions in red and white: those are advertisements. Before them marches a drum and flute band, filling the streets with a hideous noise.