Starting from Canton, business trips were sometimes made in the area of the Canton delta or up the West River (say to Wuchow or Nanning) by motor house boat. Such trips were interesting during the day ashore, but it was often perspiratory and this plight was not alleviated by the warm beer taken from dusty shelves and offered so frequently as, evidently, ''the thing to do'' and which it was not always politic to refuse. It was rather fun to get back to the boat (and its ice cubes) when the day's work was over for, it might be, a mild game of cards, or a good book. Houses are often built right up to the water's edge and are bolstered with stilts (to which you'd often tie up at night) since a rise in level of some 80 feet of the West River is not unknown at flood season. Lu Chap Tong was one of our agents, and a good one, in that section. He looked somewhat Jewish but of course was not. His wife did a good job getting him back after bandits decided to give him a change of air and scenery. They wanted 50,000 dollars. His wife countered with 5,000 dollars ''because that was all he was worth'' and the bargain was returned! (There was hearsay about a small community professing the Jewish faith which had settled in back of the upper reaches of the West River in the long ago, but idle chatter is all I ever did hear about it.)
Kongmoon is the only place where I ever saw a dog beaten to death (and that was way back in 1916). Whether it was to make the meat tender or for some entirely different reason we had no idea, nor could we find out or do anything about it. It was a ''chow'' dog of course. I never did know the derivation of the word, but don't imagine for a minute it has anything to do with food.
Kongmoon is also reached from Hong Kong by boat. My first trip there was made during the last war1-58 and we didn't have as much luck getting out of Hong Kong as we did on the Kinshan. Something went wrong with our lights (or signals) that night, too, and a warning shot was fired across our bow, but since matters were still not corrected a following shot passed through the engine room most unfortunately killing a stoker.
Kongmoon has a railroad (iron road), Sunning being the original terminus. It was promoted and built by Yee, the ''Chinese Jim Hill'' as he liked to be called. He had dealings with the Northern Pacific as a labor contractor when it was being built and on return to China achieved his desire of building a demonstration line that had everything on it an American road might have (whether necessary for the operation of his line or not!) with one exception. He couldn't have a tunnel. For one thing, the country was rather flat and such hillocks as there were were burial mounds and it would have offended feng shui (the spirits of wind and water) as well as raised hob in general to have bored through them. (Burial mounds frequently offered the only shelter there was to Chinese troops fighting in open terrain in recent years.) The Sunning Railway was up-to-the-minute, all right. It is fortunate that many years ago, and the only time I ever travelled by it, we arrived at the station early since the daily train left 20 minutes ahead of time!
Swatow, Amoy and Foochow are known as the ''Coast Ports.'' Swatow is an important city and there is a railroad there, too, running about 30 miles to Chao Chow-fu. Mo Clark and I arranged the trip during a billiard game the night before, and since I stayed up pretty late trying to beat him and the train crawled its way in enervating heat, the trip wasn't so pleasant. However, I'm glad I saw the old city, and, particularly, the bridge. The bridge is probably at least 1,000 years old, and the thick lengthwise stone slabs are 60 to 80 feet long. How they were placed in position in those days, taking the current of the river and everything into consideration, is something to ponder over, but probably rise and fall of water level had something to do with it. One section extends about 1,000 feet and the other 500 feet from the banks, being joined by a several hundred foot pontoon. You can buy most anything under the sun crossing the structure as it is an almost continual succession of shops which have been there no one knows how long.
Amoy has its railroad, too, headed towards Cheangchow but at last accounts not really getting much of anywhere although ''local'' traffic is sometimes brisk. It seems they started out all right but eventually came to a river which looked a little too difficult to cross (a quibble sometimes mentioned), but probably the funds gave out, or there was some other complication. Foreign businessmen, and their families, stationed at Amoy mostly live on the fine little island of Kulangsu (only a few minutes from Amoy proper), and if they are lucky enough to have one of the houses on the end of the island facing east, they have dandy swimming right at the door step.
Both Swatow and Amoy are on the sea, but Foochow is 10 miles up the Min River from Pagoda anchorage. In my opinion Foochow has a much prettier setting than the other coast ports, but so far as foreigners are concerned it had its heyday in the period when clipper ships raced there to load tea and camphor. Foochow also has a bridge, a quarter of a mile long, built of long slabs. It was erected six centuries ago and is today carrying motor traffic! I think that anyone who visited Foochow in his time heard of H.S. (''Shelley'') Brand. In the long list of his vocations and avocations were: hotel keeper (he always insisted on ''paying guests''), poet, insurance agent, Vacuum Oil agent, organist, (paid) secretary of the Foochow Club, import and export merchant, Taipan reliever (this meant that he would sometimes temporarily take the place of the manager of an office going on leave), undertaker, Shakespearean actor (he had a deep resonant voice), tea merchant, and he supervised the building of the cathedral. Times may not have been so hectic since the day of the tea clippers, but Shelley generally managed to find something to do. I don't know that Shelley was a Sinologue, but being one would have given him something to help his spare time pass since the topography of Fukien province lent itself to the development of a bewildering number of dialects.
Foochow is noted for its lacquer and should be for the Ku Shan Monastery. This is situated well up a 2800 foot mountain lying between Pagoda Anchorage and Foochow. The site offers a beautiful panorama of the valley of the Min, is cool and surrounded by shadowy walks in adjacent woods. Sacred carp (big cousins to the goldfish) swim idly, and safely, around in their pool. The monastery is clean, well painted, has electric light and ice, and yet pervading all is a profound sense of oldness and tranquility. The usual way to visit the monastery is to chair (at times with women bearers!) up from the river. This is hard enough (on the chair coolies) but I went at it in a still harder way and approached from the rear. We started from Kuliang and strolled up and down the Himalayas (it seemed like) and after several hours (which seemed like several years) we were back. The last few hundred wooden steps to our temporary home in the mountains were my finish. I flopped with terrific cramps which seemed to tickle everyone else. Kuliang (not to be confused with the more widely known Kuling, which is up the Yangste) is a resort 2400 feet above sea level, but four hours from Foochow by sedan chair. It should be even more popular than now when the helicopter comes into its own! The chair coolies have to be as sure footed as mountain goats, and when you come upon some of the twists and turns of the narrow path shooting perpendicularly downwards, you wonder if all's as it should be - and hope that it is. Formosa, 100 miles away, can be seen from Kuliang on a clear day.
A custom prevalent in Amoy (and nowhere else that I know except that it spread in a mild way to Foochow) made necessary the use of two or three hundred thousand pounds of wax yearly. Candles were made up in varying sizes so that they would burn different lengths of time. Clients patronizing the frail sisterhood were given a candle corresponding to the cash they produced. When the cash was on its way out, so were they1-59.
The Chinese changed the name of Peking (''Northern Capital'') to Peiping in 1928 when Nanking, which had before been the capital of China, was reestablished as such. Never having lived in Peiping I was unable to appreciate the oft-sung glories of the pleasure of living there, but it was fairly evident the background was there for such an existence, once you had secured your spacious home, had drifted into a congenial clique, etc. My longest experience there consisted principally of business, dust, camels and threatened appendicitis (while the Peking Union Medical College confirmed the suspicion and it did not come to a head until I was back in Shanghai ten days later, it did nothing to increase the enjoyment of my sojourn). I did see a few of the sights that have come down from days of old, and had the pleasure of meeting Sven Hedin, the noted Swedish explorer, who was making preparations for another expedition in far places. I have, of course, had glimpses of the Great Wall. Langdon Warner (now with the Fogg Museum at Harvard) tells me that on one of his trips in the vicinity he noticed a windrow that had none of the appearance of being made by nature. Closer inspection showed that apparently tightly bound tigs and similar filler had been used for a barrier, in the attempt to prevent incursions from the north, previous to the erection of the wall of stone.
The ''Peking Man'' (Sinanthropus Pekinensis) was discovered at Chou K'ou Tien, about 30 miles southwest of Peking. He probably lived from 100,000 to 500,000 years ago and had a brain capacity nearly that of man today, and about double that of the higher primates such as the gorilla and chimpanzee. Judging from the ashes of fires and the crude implements he left behind, he was able to protect himself to some extent from the elements and fierce beasts then roaming the land once inside his cave. Nothing similar to the Peking Man has so far been found on the American continents and the supposition is that since man couldn't have got across during the glacial period, he must have reached a far higher development in Asia before any exodus eastwards started, and that this may not have commenced until ''only'' about 20,000 years ago. Gunnar Andersson, the Swedish pioneer and world authority on the ancient remains and relics of China and Mongolia, was largely responsible for directing the work resulting in the discovery of the Peking Man. During some excavating in 1921 some angular pieces of quartz, foreign to the locality, were found. The professor correctly prophesied, in effect, ''Here lie the remains of one of our ancestors. Go ahead and find him.'' Some of the excavated material was sent to Sweden from time to time for cleaning and study. The first pre-molar (of an anthropoid if not of a human being) from the Chou K'ou Tien field was discovered in Sweden during this procedure in 1926! The work was accelerated (in spite of war being waged in the vicinity between the troops of Chang Tso Lin and Yen Hsi Shan) and in 1927, 1928, and 1929 many remains definitely of the hominid were brought to light. Dr. Davidson Black of the Peking Union Medical College, after careful and exhaustive study, announced to the world in 1927 that one of the teeth found that year belonged to man, and before 1928 was over the ''Peking Man'' was a certainty. Professor Andersson's readable Children of the Yellow Earth tells the whole story. He originally went to China as advisor on coal and ore resources, but, of all things, dragons' bones were responsible for his branching out into other research which resulted in the finding of the hominid! A big ''medicinal'' business was done in these ''dragons''' bones (which were nothing but the bones of mammals) found in abundance in one locality which the government asked him to investigate, the results greatly interesting both the government and himself and leading to prolific archeological and anthropological discoveries1-60,1-61.
[A letter to HARC from L. Carrington Goodrich of the Department of Chinese and Japanese, Columbia University, dated 22 March 1944 was found in his journals and is reproduced as follows. ECP]
Dear Mr. Conant:
On the sea wall of A.D. 910 plus, consult C.T. Gardner, Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society, 1869, pp. 250-151, and E. Chavannes, T'oung Pao 17 (1916), pp. 247-256. I have not been over the ground, so cannot say how much of this wall is still extant. It presumably had to be repaired frequently, if not rebuilt. Nor have I investigated the bridges of which you speak. You may notice that (on pp. 134-5) I have referred to one bridge of circa 600 A.D. which is still standing. It is located 5 li from the south gate of Chao hsien Hopei (near Shih chia chuang).
J. Gunnar Andersson had much to do with discoveries relating to ancient man in China. See his book to which I refer on p. 233 [Children of the Yellow Earth]. Dr. Black started the anatomical studies in the Peking Union Medical College laboratories and was followed, after his death, by Dr. Weideureich.
The work of Chu Tsai-yu in music is discussed by Courant in Essai historique sur la musique classique des Chinois, pp. 90-91. See also the essay by Y.R. Chao (now lecturing at Harvard) on Chinese music in Symposium on Chinese Culture, p. 97.
As for the ''see-hear-speak no evil'' monkeys, they are thought to have been launched by Dengyo Daishi (Saicho*, 767-822), but may be connected with Buddhism and Taoism, and so with both India and China.
Sincerely,
L. Carrington Goodrich
*Saicho brought the T'ien-t'ai system of Buddhism from Chekiang to Japan. You might consult Mr. Kojiro Tomita, Keeper of the Asiatic Collections at the M.F.A. about this tradition; or Mr. Langdon Warner at the Fogg.
The situation may be different now, but it is doubtful if the Japanese really held more than about five miles of terrain on each side of the principal railways for a long time after they invaded the northern provinces, and that they couldn't even make the money they were forcing on the inhabitants hold beyond that limit, which was probably sufficient from a military but resulted in costly occupation economically and unsatisfactory politically. Large bands of well organized guerillas constantly harrassed Japanese lines1-62.
The permanent post of the 15th U.S. Infantry was at Tientsin ever since the Boxer trouble (1901). Tientsin has a magnificent club in which many outdoor (golf, horse racing, tennis, etc.) and indoor (cards, dancing, eats - and drinks!) sports are concentrated. Many years ago there had been a little party at the club and a husband suddenly decided to go to Peking on business. Two gentlemen offered to escort his wife home to the ''Astor'' and were having a ''wee doch-an-dorris'' when all too familiar footsteps were heard coming down the hall. (It later developed there had been a train wreck.) The husband was known to have a violent temper and to be unreasonably jealous. Both gentlemen made hurried exits out the second story window. One made it with a record leap, and re-entered the hotel nonchalantly by the front door, but the other had somewhat more difficulty in presenting a dapper and innocent appearance as he had a broken leg.
The Shanghai Evening Post and Mercury (American Edition) carried the following amusing story regarding an incident of Japanese occupation in the issue of May 14, 1943:
The Japanese soldier incident that brings a sure grin to everyone who hears it happened in Tientsin to Garnett Menefee. It was during the barbed wire and inspection days. The soldier stood on the banks of the Hsin Ho, which Mrs. Menefee had to cross when she wanted to go shopping. He was proud of his English vocabulary - an extremely limited vocabulary.One day Mrs. Menefee carried a package carefully in both hands. It was a small Christmas tree, decorated with spun sugar. The soldier tapped her arm. ''What is in that package?'' he asked slowly. Mrs. Menefee told him. The soldier frowned and repeated his question. Mrs. Menefee mischievously sensed a golden opportunity. She looked in pretended secrecy to the right, to the left, then whispered, ''None of your damn business.'' ''Oh! Ah!'' The soldier smiled a wide smile and bowed her through.
The Government maintained many departmental offices in the big commercial center of Shanghai but nevertheless it was often expedient, and sometimes necessary, to visit Nanking in connection with governmental business, which I generally did by the night train unless urgency demanded travelling by 'plane. It was probably when going up the former way that I picked up a case of staphylococcic infection which hung on for months. After a few weeks of obligatory beard growing, the hirsute adornments on my mug far outweighed the stragglers higher up. I had my picture took. It was even wors'n a passport one and looked more like those taken of hopefuls matriculating at Sing Sing.
Before the Japanese rape of Nanking the city was gradually but surely getting put into shape with road widening and other highway improvement, the erection of improved structures (particularly those to house government bureaux), etc. The Metropolitan Hotel was really quite modern and comfortable. Two (very!) tired businessmen arrived there late one day. They had had little sleep the night before as there had been one of the periodic disruptions of the line during the trip and the train finally pulled in many hours late. There wasn't a room (nor even a couch) to be had and the nearest friends lived miles away. Besides, they had an important appointment nearby in two hours time. Miss Dorf, secretary to Professor Andersson (of ''Peking Man'' fame) happened to walk by as the two crestfallen wayfarers were turning away from the desk and, recognizing them in spite of the fact they looked as though they might have trudged all the way from Shanghai, she asked what was the matter. She offered a most acceptable alcove off her room as it had a bed, and soon the two weary ones were making up for lost time and sawing wood in great shape. Four shoes were hanging over the baseboard as it had seemed too much effort to take them off. The good professor took a peek in the main room to see how some typing was coming along. Had he walked a little further he would have made the startling discovery of ''two 'Shanghai' men'' to add to his laurels. As it was, he may not have seen one pair of feet but he may have seen the others as they were sticking out further. They belonged to me. (Miss Dorf was once a member of a party of exploration in Tibet. She says that the only way they could find to get really warm much of the time was to all huddle together.)
My first visit to Tsingtao lasted only two days. I had attended a meeting in Yokohama during the first war and the French Mail S.S. Porthos I was returning to Hong Kong on put in at Tsingtao to load coolies (and husky looking ones they were) for the Labor Corps in France1-63. At that time much of Tsingtao had the appearance of bits of old Germany (and there are still traces) and the recently fought over battlefield had been left about as it was. The Japanese must have absorbed murderous fire attacking across the open plain against well entrenched (though numerically far weaker) Germans1-64. Two hundred German women were still living in Tsingtao but all German men had been taken to Japan for internment. By chance I happened to come across about the last two cases of ''Kulmbacher'' in town (and all that most of us were to see for many a day) and put them aboard the Porthos though I didn't have the slightest idea how I could get these bulky ''enemy goods'' ashore in Hong Kong. On arrival there I simply told the officer in charge of the boarding party what was up. He figuratively smacked his lips and said no one would be looking when they were taken over the side. I suggested he might like to come around that evening and sample a bottle or two. He did.1-65
I have been in Tsingtao several times since but never did get up on the cool heights of Laoshan 25 miles away. However, compared to Shanghai, the salt water is cool and clean even if you take a dip at one of the in-town beaches such as the Strand. The further seawards Iltis Huk (a popular resort where quite a few foreigners have built homes) is still better1-66. The last time I was there was for a rare vacation of a week or so in the late summer of 1937. I had intended having as quiet a time as possible (and two or three Bingo games for a Russian charity helped in that!) but things neither started nor worked out that way in entirety. We had waved at those ashore and were about to disembark when the Japanese suddenly decided to confine us to our own cabins pending individual inspection of each. We hadn't the slightest idea what was up. I suppose most of us felt, unjustifiably, ''guilty'' while waiting in ''solitary'' for our turn. In my own case I had one or two papers that wouldn't have upset the apple cart at all but which nevertheless it wouldn't have been expedient for them to see if avoidable. (I broke a zipper opening a bag to be sure the papers were stowed away with reasonable care and spent most of the afternoon trying, unsuccessfully of course, to get the darn thing back on the track.) In about an hour all foreigners at least marched ashore. Tsingtao is a Mecca for those who can get away from Shanghai in hot weather, so from time to time familiar faces appeared. Among these was Zigrida1-67 who wanted me to go along and see a horse in the park. I didn't catch on to what it was all about and went along out of idle curiosity more than anything else. Sure enough, there he was in all his glory. He was a hero, too (though not one I see mentioned in Richard Dempewulff's Animal Reveille). It seems that when the Chinese in withdrawing did not follow the Japanese suggestion of leaving the factories intact, but, instead, fired them, the horse took matters into his own feet and kicked a Chinese general, killing him. This was a horse after their own heart so the Japanese appropriated 20,000 Yen to keep him in security, and to be sure he was secure, stuck him in a cage surrounded by placards in four languages telling all about it. (Perhaps there's a lesson in Asiatic psychological warfare, at least from the Japanese quirk, to be drawn from all this.) As we were walking away a sheep went ''bah.''
A day or two went by quietly and I saw Zigrida again who still had horses on her mind, but this time she was flirting with the idea of riding one. I thought I'd take a chance and all went well till we were about to dismount, which she did successfully. My horse must have felt he needed more exercise because he took the bit in his teeth and off he went like a shot straight down the middle of Chungshan Road, the main thoroughfare leading towards the center of town. We were hauling around a turn when three Japanese Army trucks hove in sight, also, as per custom with them, hugging the middle of the road. They don't generally budge an inch but, luckily, they must have had some kind of an understanding with my horse as well as with the one in the park, because they did give way (when they saw what was coming!) just enough to avert the worst.
During the trip to and from Tsingtao I saw the, to me, usual sight. About 200 miles north of Shanghai (about half way to Tsingtao) a clear and distinct line of demarcation appeared in the Yellow Sea and when you finally come upon it you almost feel you hit it with a bump. This is where the force of the Yangtse current is expended and its muddied waters can no longer be shoved further. (It's not so much fun ''thumping'' this line going back and realizing how ''dirty'' all is going to be for some time to come.) However, you can never tell these days - nor where the mouth of the Hwang Ho (the Yellow River, correctly ''China's Sorrow'' after all the floods and famines it has seen) is going to be. This has been changed both by nature and by man (and where it is would have a lot to do with the ''line of demarcation''). For some time up to 1938 it emptied into the Gulf of Chihli but in that year the Chinese diverted it several hundred miles south so that its waters poured into the Yellow Sea, with a view to holding up the Japanese advance. It is now thought that the Japanese may be altering its course so that it will flow into the River Wei thereby making the sea near Tientsin once again, and shortening the Japanese lines by 500 miles for a last dogged stand.
It is often said that Hankow is the hottest city in China in the summer and there are tales that if you let a hand fall over the bed, perspiration will follow the course and have a lake ready on the floor for a morning dip. (These lakes collectively may explain how ocean going vessels up to 10,000 tons and drawing 29 feet are able to navigate the Yangtse to Hankow for half the year.) I have never experienced this vaunted Hankow heat but I did literally lose seven pounds lying in bed in Manila one night. It was the hottest night, up to then, in the records of the weather bureau there.
Hangchow, 120 miles by railway from Shanghai, is noted for many things including its West Lake (really lovely), fan manufacture, temples - and, I would add, mosquitoes1-68. It is usually considered as being the runner-up to Peiping in charm and lore. If you continue beyond on the motor road you pass miles of bamboo groves and come to Yue Chung whence you can climb (if you wish!) the long way to the 2500 foot high top of Mokanshan (40 miles from Hangchow) which is a well patronized summer resort and delightfully fresh and cool. (If you prefer, you can chair up - as I did.)
China is a big country but many of its countrymen are spread out over all other lands in the Far East. Business and work must go on, even from the point of view of the Japanese. Hence Chinese must move about. They should make very good fifth columnists both for offense and to counteract the insidious Japanese propaganda now being instilled into Oriental peoples. They probably do.