Golfing Round the World
Chapter XIII Off the Course Again
At first sight Shanghai has a look of London, the Whangpo is about the same width as the Thames at Waterloo Bridge, and the sweep of the Bund with its consulates and commercial palaces strongly recalls the Embankment, and eke the weather in March, sunshine and bitter winds and falls of evanescent snow.
As usual I set out to spy out the Golf country but I got no further than the racecourse where the links were closed on account of the weather. I did not make the acquaintance of the Shanghai Golf Club which I understand possesses a fine course, so I spent the two days of our stay in port frequenting the vast hotels, seeing the sights, and learning a new and fascinating game called 'Spotting the Stumer'.
The sport commences on the voyage in the tender from Woosung, where the Whangpo debouches into the muddy yellow Yangtsekiang, up fourteen miles of winding river between flat mud banks to Shanghai. Shanghai was once on the sea, so that all the land now to the seaward is Yangtse deposit. The river passage however, is full of interest as it is literally packed with traffic of stately junks and picturesque native craft. On board were some money merchants who sold us little stacks of ten cent pieces which we were told would be useful small change in Shanghai, and so they were if you knew the right ones. To the innocent and untutored eye they all appeared to be of equal genuineness. True, some had little spots or stains upon them apparently produced by marking with an indelible blue pencil. I regret my visit was not long enough for me to acquire any notable proficiency in this Chinese national sport, but the currency dealers on that Woosung tender were certainly one up on me.
I took a tram ride to the uttermost limits of Shanghai and offered some of these pieces for my fair. They were politely but firmly rejected by the conductor who urbanely drew my attention to a placard which announced that 'The Company hereby gives notice that they will not accept ten cent pieces issued by the Municipality of Wun Tung'. I gathered, perhaps erroneously, that if you went to Wun Tung they would refuse pieces issued by Hang Men, and Hang Men would have nothing to do with truck from Sing Hi, and so on.
These ten, twenty five and fifty cent pieces are nickel silver coins and worth about three to fifteen pence according to denomination, and one would naturally suppose that you could exchange ten, or four, or two of them for the really beautiful hundred cent Yuan, better known as the Mexican Dollar. But no such thing. If you want to acquire one of these much prized medals, and they are works of art with a design of Britannia ruling the waves on the head, and most beautiful Chinese characters on the tail, you must produce, not only your ten ten cent pieces of unimpeachable character, but also a variable and enormous mass of copper coins representing unlimited quantities of 'Cash' and probably a bit of cumshaw (backsheesh) as well. And of course vice versa if you are a seller.
I coveted some picture post cards in a shop in Bubbling Well Road. I entered the emporium and selected a couple of dozen and asked how much. We retired to a back parlour with the postcards and I was invited to take a seat. My host, for they treat you as they would an honoured guest, said "One Dollar". I replied "Me no wanchee". This was common form and I should have committed a breach of etiquette if I had said otherwise. At fifty cents I felt it incumbent on me to accept and I did so, I hope gracefully. I tendered one silver dollar Mex and received fiify cents change, all pukkah I believe, and as much 'cash' as I could convenienttly carry in one hand.
I have that 'cash' still, and very useful my family find it in acquiring a recondite knowledge of Chinese geography which confounds their tutors and endows them with a well deserved reputation for originality and independent research.
Now a silver dollar is certainly larger than our half crown which is apparently its sterling value, and if one knew how it is conceivable one might amass a large fortune by repeated purchases of a coin worth forty pence by payment of one worth only thirty, but you would have to make sure that it was a genuine dollar you were buying for the wily Celestial has been known to expend at least three weeks in sawing one of these precious coins into two flats halves, chiselling out as much silver as he reasonably could without defacing the outer surfaces, replacing his abstractions with lead, and hermetically and invisibly sealing the joint, so that no one save a fellow Oriental could possibly detect any difference. As Bret Harte so sagely observed "For ways that are dark, And tricks that are vain, the Heathen Chinese is peculiar" - and very amiable withal.
As an offset to the supposed unfriendly attitude towards foreign devils which is occasionally commented on in our Home Press I may recite an incident that occurred in the densely crowded Chinese city during our stay in port. A lady sightseer had her handbag snatched from her while riding in a rickshaw up one of the exceedingly narrow streets where everyone jostles everybody. Immediately the crowd took up the chase, captured the thief who was made to restore the stolen property, and was then promptly handed over to the police.
It is in this same teeming centre of Shanghai that you see the Willow Pattern Tea House, visit the Joss house, stroll through the market - market and joss house are inextricably mingled together and see the Mah Jongg makers at work to the accompaniment of the squawks, screeches and trills of thousands of birds in their cages. In an old stone garden of great antiquity I saw latticed windows glazed with faintly blue fish scales.
Somewhere along the Bubbling Well Road there is a Hotel DU PLUS GRAND LUXE, possessing a superb circular ball room wherein a fountain splashes merrily in the centre. It is a rendez vous where international Shanghai dines and dances with great persistence. It is gay in the better sense of that ambiguous word. As I was leaving this exhilarating palace of Terpsichore, there drew up beside the entrance an enormous super landaulette with chauffeur and footman in black livery. Seated in the lighted interior was one of China's warlords in khaki uniform. I have never seen, at any time, such an expression of rage and malevolence as was depicted on his face. Why and what was the cause I shall never know, but I would wager that someone within that ballroom, whither he had despatched his footman with a message of enquiry, was, in military argot, 'badly for it'. In that one fleeting glimpse I thought I sensed a tragedy and yet it may have been merely the gentleman's unfortunate everyday and ordinary facial aspect.
In China apparently you can never tell, for in Peking I was to get another thrill. This time it was three men chained together in a tumbril, which under military escort was clattering its way along the Chien Men, the great wide street along which the Emperor used to pass from the Forbidden City to the Temple of Heaven. It was just a common cart, wisps of straw were blowing from it in the strong gusts of icy north wind. The three men were grinning, apparently amused at the spectacle around them, and yet I was credibly informed that they were proceeding on their last journey to the place of execution.
He who visits Peking must perforce see sights and the number of them is legion. Fortunately for such a feckless globetrotter as I was, there was no need to take any trouble or put oneself out in the least degree. Merely to be in Peking is a continual fees to the eye. The high gardens walls of childhood's days seemed unscalable. In Peking they are three or four or five times the height and so many mysteries are concealed by them, that life becomes one great intriguing question. What, oh what is on the other side? You see therefore how the walls of Peking resemble Death. To some extent the mystery is solved, in that the Forbidden City remains 'Forbidden' no more. One may wander through its vast courts at will, and observe with wonder and pained surprise that grass is growing on the red and blue and green and yellow tiled roofs.
But there is still mystery and enough to spare. There are no omnibuses in the world tall enough to enable one to see over the walls of Legation Quarter. Even there under the aegis and protection of all the great nations of the world, the man in the street sees nothing but walls and occasional gates like young Marble Arches impenetrably concealing their interiors from view, with colossal doors studded with colossal nails.
In its vast wide streets stretching away in straight lines to illimitable vistas, in its buildings and palaces, its towering archways and gates, and above all its walls, Peeking creates an impression of staggering immensity. Not even New York with its deep canons of streets below the skyscrapers, nor London which is bijou by comparison can convey anything so imposing to the senses as the long high pink wall facade of the Forbidden City with its huge legendary Chinese lions on guard before its giant portals. In the great avenue before it, perhaps wider than the Champs Élysées, there is the perpetual pattering of thousands of pairs of slippered feet, for one half of the population pull junrikishas, while the other half ride in them.
I enjoyed the hospitality of a gentleman who had lived most of his life in Peking. He had a very charming house in the Imperial City situated just outside the pink walls of Forbidden City. The long low bungalow literally rambled about a garden, where rice birds, dear to players of Mah Jongg twittered and chirped in the trees, the whole of course surrounded by a high wall with a sort of portcullis affair for the one and only entrance. My friend wisely dissuaded me from golf, as not only would the course be plagued by whirlwinds of dust in the prevailing north easterly gales blowing off the snow clad Mongolian Mountains, but also, as he pointed out, I had better take the opportunity of seeing the Great wall and the Summer Palace and other famous places and obviously I could not do both.
Accordingly I took several thrilling excursions and enjoyed the sublime view from the highest bastion of the Great Wall from which one could see the wild tumble of mountains and ravines and the great range of the snow clad peaks of Mongolia. Is there any work of man more stupendous than this Great Wall of China built more than two thousand years ago and extending for twentyfive hundred miles along the crest of mountain ridges and summits and still in almost perfect preservation?
At the point I visited, some three hours railway journey from Peking, one could see the wall in unbroken continuity for ten miles and more in each direction. It is wide enough on top for two horsemen to ride abreast, and its height which varies according to the contours of the slopes, falling away on either side, was in places over thirty feet high.
Why was it put there? As a defence. Yes of course, but what sort of people must these ancient Mongols and Tartars have been to chivvy and harass each other over two thousand five hundred miles of the wildest and fiercest looking country in the world.
The Summer Palace lies about a dozen miles out of Peking at the foot of the Western Hills. It was the favourite retreat of the strong minded and all powerful Empress Mother of the last Emperor of China. It consists of an imposing group of Pagodas decorated with vividly coloured roof tiles and mural paintings, perched most picturesquely on the slope of a tree clad hill overlooking one of the most famous lotos lakes. It is an immense affair of terraces and marble steps, temples, theatres, halls of audience and what not. The finely carved white marble Terrace actually overhanging the lake and the imitation junk partly of white marble, known as the Chinese Navy, are artistic triumphs, so perfectly do they blend with the idea of summer, and imperial state.
I felt extremely virtuous seeing all these sights like a well behaved little tourist, but I do not mind telling you I got my own back at one of the shows. Naturally I took advantage of the splendidly organised excursions with cars and special trains nicely timed to do everything in comfort, but there was some monastery affair imposed on the top of the Summer Palace about six miles further on. Well, I had had enough of what I believe is euphemistically known as 'rubber necking' for one day, so I told the chauffeur to get back to Peking and lunch forthwith. With characteristic urbanity he agreed to everything I suggested and promptly drove me out to the monastery with the rest of A or B party whichever it happened to be.
I was annoyed because I would have infinitely preferred lunch and this place was miles from anywhere and still further from Peking. However, as we had come, curiosity overcame me, and I tore madly through the successive gates of about four temples to see what it was that I was supposed to see. I elicited the information that there was a particular temple containing about forty Buddhas which was the special objective of this detour. And sure enough, by and by, I came upon a group of a dozen or so very irate tourists, arguing with one of the official keepers of the place, in front of a locked door which he flatly refused to open.
Mildly interested I joined the group and observed that the door which led into the temple was a very old one, locked with chain and Chinese padlock, and so sunken on its hinges that an excellent view of the interior was to be obtained through the cracks which the door did not quite cover. While they were arguing I had a good look through the door and saw the forty grotesque and purposely ugly Buddhas (I say this with great respect) facing each other from the walls of the temple. It seemed to me that the manner of seeing a sight was often a great deal more interesting than the actual site itself.
It is frequently said that the Chinese possess an infinite capacity for taking pains. It is not so much a question of perseverance as a liking for the intricacies of any form of labour. If there is a long and short way of doing a job it is supposed that they would prefer the more tortuous. I am not prepared to say whether this is a fair estimate, but I did observe three men watering a stretch of road far out in the country. Two of them were operating a well with hand windlass and bucket, the third had a another bucket and made innumerable journeys to and from the well which was in a field beside the road. As a strong dry north wind was blowing and the hot sun was at mid-day strength the effective product of the organisation can readily be imagined. Still they were undoubtedly hard at work and presumably being paid for it.
As is well known however, the Chinese are most highly skilled craftsmen. It is related that a certain diplomat who was anxious about the safe conveyance of highly confidential state documents, had an especially strong despatch case made for him, which was fitted with a most intricate and complicated lock. He had to attend some highly important conference about a thousand miles from Legation Quarter at which it was essential that these papers should be produced. When he came to open the despatch box however, he discovered that he had left the key behind and was much perturbed for however much he proposed to himself to bash the case in he could not get it open without breaking the unbreakable lock. His Peking servant who accompanied him noticed he was worried about something and after much persuasion got him to admit what the trouble was. He asked to be allowed to examine the lock, and, after a careful 'looksee' announced "Can do, Master", and had the lock open in twenty minutes.
The wise householder trusts his servants and never regrets it. To put anything under lock and key is regarded as an insult, and perfectly useless anyhow, as the coolie will either be overcome by insatiable curiosity, or the feeling that as he is not trusted he may as well profit in his skill in the art of lock picking.
The Chinese are excellent servants, most capable and obliging, and as indicated absolutely trustworthy if put on their honour. They also possess an irrepressible sense of humour. My friend was much chaffed because he had two retainers, the chauffeur and a footman, on his car. It appeared that his chauffeur asked him, one day, if he might engage another coolie. As my friend considered his domestic staff more than adequate for all that was required of them, he replied "What on earth do you want another coolie for?" whereupon the chauffeur explained persuasively "Many street corners in Peking Master, must have coolie put his hand out left side, no can drive and put hands out both sides."
Another distinguished resident in Peking had a fancy for acquiring all sorts of pets and kept a special coolie to look after his dogs. One day, some gold-fish caught his eye and thinking they would look well in his garden fountain he bought a tub full and had them sent up to his house and told his Number One boy to see that they were properly fed. The latter demurred a little saying that his household stuff had their hands full or words to that effect. "Oh very well" said his Master "Give them to the Dog Coolie". All went well for a day or two, when Number One reported "Them gold-fish Master! Dog coolie say he very busy with dogs, no can manage". The owner of the house had to give in and shortly after a special coolie was duly installed to cope with the arduous task of feeding the gold-fish.
I rather fancy that a 'civil war' was in progress during our brief but delightful visit to the Chinese capital. We certainly saw plenty of soldiers at the numerous railway stations at which our special halted. We would be playing the game of 'Rummy' and the troops would come and look through the windows of the carriage and watch the play of the hands with the most humorous appreciation. I asked my host how they had fared during the war. He disclaimed any knowledge of any war. I explained that the newspapers at home had been full of more or less sensational accounts of bombardments and attacks on Peking. He then admitted that he remembered an occasion when an aeroplane flew over and dropped a few bombs in the President's Park, but he did not think that the incident could exactly be described as a war. At all events no one took the slightest notice of it.
Recently there has been a recrudescence of 'hostilities' and I have a letter from my friend. Let him speak for himself - "If you have read of any Chinese news in the papers you will have seen that we have been having a hectic time of it. For ten days until to-day (April 1926) an aeroplane flew over the city each morning dropping bombs on the just and the unjust. One of our usual civil wars is on. The reports this morning relate that our defenders capitulated during the night and that the 'invader' is in, but so blasé have we grown that I have not even gone over to the city to see if the report is true. We seldom know who is fighting whom, or why.
It is not to be denied that these wars do cause some disturbance of the peace and sometimes dislocate the train service, but if the reports of the press correspondents are read with care it will be noticed that very rarely indeed is mention made of casualties or any details of hostilities. If we could imagine our political parties in Britain in possession of an army and War Office apiece and occasionally making a demarche or display of force in an effort to recapture the reins of government, we might visualise an approximation to a Chinese civil war.
Ever since I can remember, the population of Peking has been a million. If you take an interest in these matters you will find that whereas in European or American cities they count people down to the last new-born babe on the day of the census, in China they invariably reckon a city as containing a round number of one, two, three or four millions as the case may be; proving that the eminent statisticians who provide us with this information have not the dimmest idea of what they are talking about.
It is none the less somewhat staggering to think that there are probably ten times more Chinese than there are British, that their womenfolk wear trousers and their menkind hobble skirts, or rather one piece garments ending in a hobble skirt, that they nod their heads when they mean no, and shake them when they mean yes, laugh when they are unhappy, and wear white instead of black for mourning.
Furthermore unless your animals happen to be compatible you may not marry. Perhaps I had better elucidate this a little. Thus to every cycle of twelve Cathay years there are assigned twelve beasts. Suppose we start with 1924 which is the year of the Rat, then we proceed in the following order, Ox, Tiger, Hare, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Sheep, Monkey, Fowl, Dog, Pig, assigning an animal to each succeeding year, so that 1935 will be the year of the Pig. Then you commence the series again 1936 being the year of the Rat. When therefore a Chinese boy is about to marry: the year of the birth of his intended bride becomes of the utmost importance, and her suitability depends among other things on the following formula.
White horse hates black bullockThe law that a man may not marry his grandmother is not more inexorable than that the maid of sweet seventeen born in the year of the Fowl may not mate with the man of twentyeight, nor the callow youth of sixteen because their animals are incompatible.
Sheep cannot live with the Rat one day
White cock and dog do not agree
Cruel tiger at view of snake tears it to pieces as with a sword
Dragon and Hare cannot see each other
Pig fears all his life the Monkey