CH'ÊNG-TU TO OMEI-HSIEN

My next objective after leaving Ch'Êng-tu was the sacred summit of Mount Omei, one of the most famous of the many historic mountains of China. I left Ch'Êng-tu on 1st March in a small, leaky, and most uncomfortable craft, which took me down the Min river to Chia-ting in four days, the total distance being slightly over 130 miles. The Kuan-hsien sluices having not yet been opened to give the great plain its spring flooding, there was very little water in the stream till we reached Chiang K'ou13 on the morning of the third day, and in some places it was necessary to pull the boat over some mud shoals. At Chiang K'ou the various subdivided waters (of which the branch that brought me down from the east gate of Ch'Êng-tu was one) reunite and form a river which is broad and deep enough at all seasons of the year for cargo-junks of a considerable size. This is the Min river, which, as already stated, is regarded by the Chinese of central Ssuch'uan as the true Upper Yangtse. The far greater but unnavigable stream which rushes impetuously from the Tibetan mountains in the north-west and is joined by the Min at HsÜ-chou-fu,14 is known by the Chinese for a great part of its course as Chin Ho (Gold River) and as the Chin Sha Chiang15 (the River of Golden Sand). The name Min being apparently unknown to the Chinese, Baber suggested that it had been invented by the early Jesuit geographers.16 If so, it was no doubt derived from the range of mountains known to the Chinese as the Min Shan (??) in the north-west of the province, for it is there that the river rises. But all the rivers of China have a multitude of names; in fact the Chinese do not appear to be endowed with a proper sense of the continuity of rivers, and the country people who dwell on the banks of a stream from which they derive their livelihood are seldom aware of where it comes from or whither it goes. This circumstance has been a source of embarrassment to many European travellers, whose passion for geographical exactness is incomprehensible to the rustic mind in China.

The scenery of the Min is always picturesque. The river flows for the most part through richly cultivated districts, broken only here and there by low hills. Nearly opposite the town of P'Êng-shan-hsien, on the third day from Ch'Êng-tu I visited a fine twelve-storied pagoda (the So Chiang T'a or Lock-River Pagoda), which, unlike most buildings of the kind, is in sufficiently good repair to enable one to ascend it by a spiral staircase. The pagoda is built of hard brick and the staircase is of sandstone blocks. The scenery on the river becomes finer as one approaches Chia-ting. Well-wooded hills come close to the water's edge, and broken cliffs covered with verdure reveal openings into fairy vistas of greenery and mysterious grottoes that would have delighted the soul of a Keats.

The town of Chia-ting, which I reached on the evening of 4th March, is beautifully situated on the right bank of the Min, just above its junction with the T'ung (more generally known as the Ta Tu) and Ya rivers. From this point onwards the three streams flow in a broad, navigable river for a distance of about 130 miles, when they join the Yangtse at HsÜ-chou-fu. My river-journey, however, ended at Chia-ting.

Apart from its proximity to the sacred mountain of Omei, Chia-ting is interesting for its temples, its prehistoric cave-dwellings, its sericulture, and for the white-wax industry. High on a rocky hill on the left bank of the river is a remarkable monastery known as "The Monastery of the Voice of the Waters." It was founded in the T'ang dynasty, nearly twelve hundred years ago, and restored in 1667 by the munificence of a Provincial Judge. It bears the alternative name of "The Great Buddha Monastery," the reference being to a huge image which has been carved out of the face of a cliff that overhangs the waters of the Min. The story goes that a holy monk named Hai T'ung came to this locality in the eighth century of our era and determined to perform some act of religious devotion which would save the surrounding country from the ruin and desolation caused by the overflowing of the three neighbouring rivers. He therefore spent nineteen years in hewing out of the rock an immense image of MaitrÊya Buddha. The carving, which is in bold relief, must have been a work of immense labour and considerable danger; but its artistic merits are obscured by the partial decomposition of the rock and the growth of vegetation in the fissures. Parts of the body are almost indistinguishable. The whole figure is about 386 feet high. An exceedingly steep and rather perilous scramble down a cutting in the precipice enabled me to study the great figure from various points of vantage, and also to inspect some little rock-shrines containing innumerable small Buddhas. It is doleful to reflect that in spite of Hai T'ung's piety and extraordinary industry the three rivers have not yet ceased to cause periodical floods.

Amongst other objects of great interest in the monastic grounds are some of the prehistoric cave-dwellings which were first described by Baber. One of these caves, in close proximity to the monastery, has been diverted from its original uses (whatever they may have been), and is now a Buddhist chapel, with altar, bell, and images all complete. These caves, of which there are many in the neighbourhood of Chia-ting and a great quantity in other parts of what is known as the "Red Basin" of Ssuch'uan, constitute one of the unsolved problems of Chinese archÆology. I visited several of them during the two days I spent at Chia-ting, but am not in a position to add much to the information already available, or to offer any novel theory regarding their origin. The caves are entirely artificial, and have been hewn out of the sandstone by people who were evidently skilful in the handling of their tools. There is little evidence of a strong artistic instinct, but it is curious to note that the decoration, such as it is, bears no resemblance to any Chinese work, and seems rather of Hindu type. The square or oblong doors are generally on the face of a cliff, and the majority are at the present time quite inaccessible without the use of ropes and ladders. In some cases the cliffs are honey-combed with caves, the insides of which have never been trodden by human foot for untold ages. Other caves, however, are quite easily accessible. The interiors vary in details, but in general design they are alike. The door leads into a long room, which is in most cases connected with other rooms, and there are holes and grooves in the walls which show that there must at one time have been wooden partitions. Within the rooms, which are quite lofty and broad enough for human habitation, there are cistern-like troughs, deep recesses, bench-like seats, and projections that may have been used as shelves: all of which are hewn out of the rock and remain immovable. No one can now say definitely whether the caves were used as strongholds, as tombs, as houses or as places of worship. Arguments may be adduced in support of each and all of these theories. The inaccessibility of the majority of the cave-apertures lends support to the stronghold theory. Perhaps they were reached by temporary ladders which were drawn up on the approach of an enemy. Possibly the enemies to be feared in those remote days were wild beasts as well as human beings. The narrow rooms, with their immovable stone coffers and shallow recesses, suggest mausolea; yet the existence in some cases of fire-places (without chimneys) and stone projections that were evidently intended to be sat upon are more suggestive of dwelling-places. As regards the temple theory, all that can be said is that some of the more accessible of the caves have been turned into Buddhist shrines, as in the case already mentioned; but there is no evidence whatever that they were originally intended for religious purposes. On the whole, it seems probable that the caves were actually used as the ordinary dwelling-places of a primitive people that lived chiefly by hunting and fishing, had attained a fair degree of civilisation and social organisation, and found themselves in constant danger of attack by hostile tribes, perhaps Tibetans, by whom—if not by advancing Chinese—they were eventually scattered or exterminated.

All I propose to add by way of comment is this. In the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society for July 1904 and January 1906, Mr E. Crawshay-Williams described some mysterious rock-dwellings which he discovered at Raineh, in Persia. Now from his description of those caves I gather that they must be exactly similar in situation, size, and general appearance to those which we are now considering. Unfortunately, neither the Raineh caves nor those of Ssuch'uan contain inscriptions. Whether the resemblance is purely accidental or has some deeper significance is a question which I leave to archÆologists. It might, if we had corroborating evidence, tend to show that regions so far apart as Persia and the Min valley of Ssuch'uan were once inhabited by allied races, perhaps of Indian origin. As we shall see later,17 there is, indeed, some reason to believe that the Chinese cave-dwellers were connected with the Vaggians or Licchavis, a race that attained to great political strength in the extreme north-east of India, and which—according to one authority at least—is identical with the YÜeh-chi.18 The latter, however, who after their disastrous defeats by the Hiung-nu on the confines of China in the second century B.C. migrated to western Asia, never seem to have penetrated so far west as Raineh in Persia. Their empire was founded on the ruins of the GrÆco-Bactrian dominion in Sogdiana and on the left bank of the Oxus, and their ambitions led them south rather than west. It may be that future explorers will discover in other regions caves of a similar pattern to those of Persia and China, and in that case it may be possible to trace the migrations of the cave-dwellers and so find a clue to their identification. The caves noticed by the abbÉ Huc on the fringe of the Mongolian desert, and those that exist near the Yamdok lake on the road to Lhasa19 have not been described fully enough to justify our drawing many deductions. The rock-cut caves on the Murghab near the Afghan frontier, and those of Bamian close to the Indian Caucasus on the road between Kabul and Turkestan,20 have many characteristics in common with those of Ssuch'uan, but appear to have served only religious uses. Professor Parker has discovered in the records of the T'ang dynasty (seventh to tenth century A.D.) what appear to be references to the existence of a race of cave-dwellers in Ssuch'uan as late as that time, and a further reference to cave-chiefs (one of whom was named T'ien Shih Ch'iung) in records corresponding to the year 1012 of our era.21 But there is nothing to prove that these were the descendants of the original cave-dwelling race, and the probabilities are rather against their being so.

What the Chinese themselves say is that the caves were inhabited by the "Man-tzu" in prehistoric times; but Man-tzu is a term which has a very elastic meaning, for, as we shall see below,22 it has been made to embrace Tibetan border tribes, Lolos and "savages" generally. It must reluctantly be admitted that until a proper archÆological enquiry has been made into the subject and the more inaccessible caves have been thoroughly searched for relics, the only theory with which no fault can be found is the illuminating one propounded by Baber. "My own theory," he said, "which I offer with diffidence, is that these excavations are of unknown date, and have been undertaken, for unexplained purposes, by a people of doubtful identity."

On 6th March I set out for Omei-hsien, the little city that lies at the foot of Mount Omei. The distance from Chia-ting is only about 16 miles, and was easily covered during the day. My retinue consisted of three chair-bearers, three baggage coolies and a useless "boy" whom I had picked up at Ch'Êng-tu and hoped to get rid of as soon as I could find a suitable man to take his place. The road led us over the river Ya and across a great plain almost entirely occupied by myriads of the dwarf ash-trees which are used in connection with the production of the famous white wax. The wax-insects, which are brought annually in baskets from the Chien-ch'ang valley south of the Ta Tu, are placed on the branches of this tree, and in due time proceed to cover themselves and the branches with a thick coating of the wax. The branches are then cut off and the wax carefully removed. The whole process has been carefully described by Sir Alexander Hosie in several Foreign Office reports and in his Three Years in Western China.

The inns of Omei-hsien are unusually good, and as the pilgrim season had not yet begun I was able to select the best quarters that the city could provide. Western readers must not suppose that even the best of Chinese inns would meet with commendation in England or America. If in China I am shown into a room that has been moderately well swept, and possesses a wooden floor which does not give way, and walls without holes; that contains a steady table, an unbroken chair, a window recently papered, and that does not smell too offensively of stale opium; and if the room is not next door to the stables and opens into a yard that is reasonably clear of garbage and filth, and is not the common resort of peripatetic pigs and diseased dogs,—I then consider that good fortune has brought me to an inn that may be described as excellent. The furniture is, of course, in all cases of the simplest description, the principal guest-room generally containing only a table and a couple of chairs. The walls are either of bare stone or brick, or of mere lath and plaster. Sometimes they are adorned with a few hanging scrolls containing "antithetical couplets" or crude paintings—probably New Years' gifts to the landlord from his "foolish younger brothers." Washing-stands, dressing-tables and side-boards and similar luxuries are unknown, and the bed consists either (in north China) of a k'ang, which is built of bricks, or (in the warmer regions) of a couple of planks placed on trestles. For several reasons a camp-bed is to Europeans an indispensable part of even the most modest travelling equipment. If such are the good inns, what is to be said of the worst? Earthen floors saturated with damp and filth and smelling of decaying refuse; windows from which the paper (glass being, of course, unknown) has been torn away; tables which collapse under the weight of the traveller's frugal dinner unless they are propped up by his portmanteau and gun-case; roofs from which hang trailing cobwebs spun by spiders of a vanished generation; walls of mud through which the village urchins make holes by the simple pressure of their grimy fingers; wicked-looking insects of uncouth shapes that issue at night-time from a hundred gloomy lurking-places and crawl over the edge of one's rice-bowl; an entire lack of means of illumination except a single sputtering wick protruding from a saucer filled with rancid oil: these are but a few of the more obvious discomforts of many a Chinese hostelry. The inns of the large towns are with a few exceptions no better than those of the villages, and often much less comfortable on account of the greater amount of noise and dirt. As a rule it is preferable, if possible, to complete a day's march at a village rather than in a town; not only for the sake of quietness and peace, but also because one is less likely to be disturbed by inquisitive crowds if one ventures outside the door of the inn.

The people of Omei-hsien, however, are unusually amiable. Many of them earn their living by attending to the wants of pilgrims to the great mountain, and vie with each other in their efforts to show civility to the stranger within their gates. Not many Chinese venture to climb Mount Omei so early in the year as March, as it is still covered with snow for several thousand feet of its height; but I observed a large number of Tibetan pilgrims on their way to and from the mountain, and ascertained from them that there was no great difficulty in the ascent. On the morning of the 7th March, therefore, I left my servant (who was appalled by the mere shadow of the mountain) to look after my baggage in Omei-hsien, and started the ascent in the company of the two soldiers of my escort. The town of Omei-hsien lies at 1,500 feet above sea-level: the summit of the mountain is about 9,500 feet higher.