32
Last Rites for Confucius
(1920)

We were back in the city by late September and soon as busy as ever. Some Chinese friends wanted me to teach them Latin. With teaching the boys at home and teaching at the Y, I reluctantly had to decline.^[1] Supplies that we had ordered in April of 1918 reached us on the last day of September in 1919. Our latest arrival, Earl Dome, had to be housed. By cutting a few doors between side rooms in the compound next door (originally the Methodist school and now partly a residence for the Heldes), Bob arranged a very convenient suite. Earl continued to board with us.

The usual Autumn Sacrifice at the Temple of Confucius was to be in early October.^[2] The temple was very close to us: it provided the name for our street (Temple of Learning Street). Women were not usually allowed to attend the ceremony, so we had never been. This year Bob obtained permission for us to go (they asked me to dress in dark colors to be less conspicuous).

Ancient custom decreed that these rites take place when the air is most calm and serene; they were usually timed to end just before dawn. We got up about 1:00 A.M. , had coffee and a good lunch, and set off in a drizzle. By 2:30 we were at the temple. Then, in good Chinese fashion, there was a wait. The ceremony did not begin until the rain stopped at 4:15, but there were interesting things to watch. A Chinese friend with us was secretary to an official and was able to secure good places for us; also he could explain everything.

The great stone terraces in front of the temple were all decorated for the

[1] Grace had taught high school Latin for two years between graduation and her marriage.

[2] This must have been very nearly the last year that these state ceremonies to honor Confucius were performed. The iconoclastic spirit of the May Fourth Movement was sweeping the country, but the rise of the Kuomintang would soon substitute Sun Yat-sen as a new cult figure to bow to. The Temple of Confucius was one of the few buildings in Chengtu entitled to have imperial-yellow glazed-tile roofs. Within the grounds were some magnificent gingko trees (which were a favorite roost for a great flock of noisy crows).

affair. One of the spectacular aspects was the lighting. Besides many small lanterns, there were two tremendous "heavenly candles" about twenty-five feet high that flanked the middle flight of stone steps up to the main temple hall and were made of bundles of bamboos tied tightly together. The bamboos were very dry and had been well soaked in pitch and oil; they burned with a mighty blaze, giving plenty of light for the scene. The "candles" were as large as good-sized tree trunks; and the smoke, as we found when the breeze veered and blew it our way, was extremely acrid.

The civil governor was the master of ceremonies and must have marched up and down the steps more than a score of times. His permanent station was on the lower level in the center of the large red carpet for the officials. He advanced to the upper level and into the temple building at least seven times during different parts of the ceremony. There was chanting. A strange ancient-style orchestra played most of the time. And every part of the action was announced. This is an important part of every Chinese ceremony or ritual; even at a wedding, for instance, every detail must be announced and then followed out in what seems to us to be a very formal manner.

Most of the ceremony was conducted outside the temple, though the civil governor entered and bowed to the chief tablet (that of Confucius), and the other principal officials did the same to the tablets of the twelve disciples of Confucius. It was odd to see the officials in frock coats and top hats going through the bows and observances of olden times: fortunately, they did not have to perform the prostrations that used to be required. We wished they had been wearing the gorgeously embroidered and colorful robes of imperial days.

After all the bowing and orating were over and the celebrants began to leave, the majordomo gave us permission to go up into the main temple. Here we saw the sacrifices, the ritual utensils, and the old stone musical instruments which hung from a wooden rack. The sacrifices, which had been prepared and put in place before the ceremonies, were on wooden tables and were so arranged that they did not show the marks of having been killed and drawn. The tablet to Confucius was in the center; before it, there was a sheep on the left, a pig on the right, and a huge ox in the center. The sheep and pig carcasses were without hair, but the ox had only the head scraped clean. At the sides were tables for each group of three disciples; on each table was a pig and a sheep.

Shortly before the event, Bob had had the characters "Hua Yang" placed on his calling cards. At that time Chengtu city was divided into two wards, one of them being Hua Yang. After living ten years in a ward, a man was entitled by custom to show his township on his card. It interested Chinese very much that Bob, a foreigner, had wanted to do this. Several people mentioned this to us at these Confucian ceremonies.

Just about this time there was a flurry of activity at the Y to coincide with the civic celebration of the National Day. We all went to a dinner at the city Y on October 8. On that day, 17,500 people visited the building. There were various exhibit rooms, and throngs went in to see charts showing the evils of poor ventilation, bad sanitation, opium smoking, and such things. The visitors were all men and boys. In the evening, crowd after crowd came in to see stereopticon pictures portraying modern developments such as electricity, telephones, good roads, and so forth. There were lectures every fifteen minutes on popular subjects. This went on for days, and each night the Y staff were exhausted.

The Brace family bad a lot of illness that fall, but it was a fifty-minute ride by sedan chair to their home.^[3] Ruth Helde and I went over as often as possible and tried to help in every way we could. Chair transportation took up so much precious time that one wonders how we carried on as well as we did. All we could do was simply to put ourselves back into the Middle Ages and then settle down to be happy under medieval conditions.

The Methodists had a visit by a party of notables in connection with their mission centenary. Bob was asked to take them to call on some of the officials. It did not matter to Bob that he was already more than normally busy; he always loved to help anyone he could, and he had often helped men from the [West China Union] University in making contacts with officials. We were invited to a tiffin with the American guests under the wonderful old trees in the Methodist compound.^[4] Stanley High was one of the men in the party. I was much impressed by a Mrs. Wood, who had short hair and seemed to be fond of it.

We felt the Methodists were lucky to have these visitors, who seemed able to bring them up to date on so many subjects. I wished I could have sat down to talk for hours with people who could read all they wanted from large public libraries and who seemed to be well informed on a thousand and one things. Mrs. Wood's husband came to our gate to meet Bob before some trip they were to take. I had a number of things in mind to ask him. But he would not come in, and stood out there waiting while I was wishing with all my heart that we could make him come in for awhile.

This being out of touch was one of the hard things about being so far in the west of China. The journey to us had to be figured, not in miles, but in weeks of travel. The National Committee of the YMCA in Shanghai was sup-

[3] It may be recalled that Bert Brace was a member of the Canadian Methodist Mission who had been loaned to the YMCA. His mission connection meant that he was provided a house in the mission's compound, which was in the far corner of the city from where all the other Y people were living. It was in the Canadian Methodist compounds that the Anglo-Saxon community had been concentrated in 1911 (chapter 18).

[4] All the American children who grew up in Chengtu will remember the swing and various ropes that hung from one of those "wonderful old trees."

posed to keep in contact with the local Associations. But when trips for their secretaries were planned, Chengtu was left out. It was too much time to give to one Association when so many others, nearer the coast and easier to reach, also had to be visited. It worked both ways: if Chengtu was out of touch with the National Committee, the National Committee also lacked knowledge of our situation and working conditions.

Now, after the strenuous fall, it was decided that Bob should go to a Y conference in Shanghai. He begrudged the time away from his work: in the end, by making all possible haste, he was able to cut his absence to ten days less than three months. He left in a great whirl, working at the Y to the last and signing a thousand membership cards. (The Y had become so popular that cards were being counterfeited: Bob's actual signature was required as proof that the card was bona fide.) He took an empty trunk for all the purchases that friends had beseeched. Travelers to the Coast always expected to be so burdened.

He took a small boat to Chungking. The servants had prepared an excellent lay-out of food, and he had paid the boat captain to put on extra rice so they could make fewer stops. He also had extra rowers so the men could work in shifts and thus get at least fourteen hours' travel a day. He took his horse coolie as his only servant (Lao Liu still talks of this marvelous trip and the sights of Shanghai!). And there was a friend. This was an ex-official out of a job and desirous of seeing a bit of the world. To keep his departure quiet, he had stayed at our house the last two days before the departure. He was a YMCA member and a Mohammedan. This had to be considered in preparing the food for Bob. For instance, we used no lard, had the fowls roasted rather than fried, and provided chicken fat for frying.

There were the usual affairs to keep us busy that winter, but everything seemed pointless without Bob. Letters from him were sporadic, and he complained in them of receiving none from me, though I wrote daily. I had taken on some extra teaching. In addition, I was taking a couple of courses with the Extension Division of the University of California, our alma mater at Berkeley. I had wanted a course on the history of the Pacific Basin: they offered none, so I settled on the history of early California. I worked on this for some time but finally faced a serious problem. The course, and especially the assigned thesis topic, required access to a library. I read the texts and then had to give up. In my writing course I was soon vexed with the criticisms. My subject matter was chiefly drawn from China and the affairs of our daily lives. I soon found a most peculiar slant in the mind of whoever corrected my themes. My attitudes, plain descriptions, and characterizations were all questioned; I began to think my critic must be some unfledged youth who knew nothing of alien lands or mentalities beyond his own. So both courses came to naught.

Meantime, Christmas was approaching. Bob was pushing as fast as pos-

sible. He had a swift trip to Hankow on a large British steamer. Then— because the captain remembered him from 1912—he was able to crowd onto a tiny ship for the trip to Ichang. But at Ichang the river was so low that no more steamers were attempting the upper river. Bob had no choice but to take a small houseboat to Chungking. That ended hopes for a Christmas reunion.

On New Year's Day, we went on a spur-of-the-moment picnic to the big temple outside the North Gate. Earl Dome rode Bob's horse, but when we were outside the city he walked and Jack asked to ride. Things went well until, suddenly, something frightened the horse. All at once I saw the pony running wildly, with Jack swaying in the saddle. Just then the horse passed a man carrying earthen crockets in two baskets with a carrying pole. Jack's leg caught the rope of one of the baskets, causing it to bang against the horse's leg. The pony reared straight up, and Jack went off in a pathetic heap in the dust. It was a dirt road, but with raised stone blocks like stepping-stones along one side. My heart sank, and all the child's life flashed through my mind in a second. Then we heard him crying out and knew he was not killed.^[5] Earl gave him first aid, and the doctor saw him when we got back to the city in the evening. One ear was partially torn loose at the top (by hitting the corner of a paving stone), but it healed well.

On the same day, coincidentally, we lost our beautiful pointer dog, Scout.^[6] He must have gotten out the front gate when the gateman's attention was elsewhere. Neighbors let us know that soldiers had him. The servants tried to get him back but were helpless. After a few days Earl went to the parade ground near us. He was told that the commandant was out, so asked for the next in command. After a long delay, an officer came to hear his questions. This man assured Earl that no foreign dog had been seen. As he escorted Earl's departure, Earl saw a coolie at the far side of the field leading Scout. He slapped his leg and let out a cry for the dog. Overjoyed, Scout gave tongue, tore the leash from the coolie's grasp, and bounded across the field to throw himself in ecstasy on Earl. There was great rejoicing that evening over the safe return of "Sigao," as the servants pronounced his name.

When Bob reached Chungking on his return trip from Shanghai, he had found most of the Yard family there. They were on their return from furlough and had been delayed there by illness. Then Jim had been called to Peking on some mission business. Rather than wait any longer for Jim's return, they decided to make the overland trip to Chengtu with Bob. They reached

[5] The family has always insisted that my crying out was in Chinese: "Ai-ya, ai-ya."

[6] Scout was a beautiful spotted pointer who had been given to us as a puppy by Mr. Cavalieri, the Italian gentleman who was the head of the (Chinese) postal service for western Szechwan. Very few "foreign" dogs had been seen in Chengtu, and they attracted great interest. It was, appropriately, Mr. Cavalieri who introduced me to philately.

Chengtu on January 16 [1920]. We met them outside the East Gate, and it was a real red-letter day. Bob had brought us all gifts, and we asked hundreds of questions—about things and people at the Coast, shops, happenings, travels.

Mabelle's servants were awaiting her return, and she was soon settled in her house. When her children were in bed in the evenings, she often carne down to have dinner with us. Then Jim finally arrived. The big excitement about his return was that he brought a motorcycle. The machine, the like of which had never been seen in Chengtu, caused terror and the wildest excitement. Jim had a good many adventures with his iron steed, but it was never really practical in the old narrow streets crowded with men and animals.^[7]

In February Bob took the lads again for a short trip to White Deer Summit.^[8] That year Bob was successful in having ice stored there, and several times when the weather got warm in the spring we had some brought to the city by a carrier. As soon as a load arrived, we would make ice cream and invite friends; if there was enough ice, we made more and invited more friends. With one large batch of one hundred pounds of ice, we made twenty-two quarts of ice cream.^[9] No easily obtained delicacy could ever have been so enjoyed and appreciated. Luckily, we had our own cows, so we had cream.

In March the Cavalieris of the Post Office gave a never-to-be-forgotten costume party. I made myself a square-necked basque and panniers of rose-flowered cretonne bought on the street. My hair was dressed high and powdered, with a long curl hanging down on one shoulder. I also had a black velvet band around my neck and a couple of black patches on my face. With the help of Chinese friends, Bob appeared in the complete outfit of an "indi-

[7] Jim Yard's motorcycle had to be carried, slung between poles, on the backs of men for the ten-day trip from Chungking to Chengtu. It was the first motor vehicle of any kind in Chengtu—and probably in all of Szechwan. Chengtu streets were not only narrow and crowded; they were paved, if at all, with rough sandstone slabs. Finally, Jim was no motor mechanic, and no other was available when, inevitably, it needed fixing. The motorcycle was exciting for the short while that it ran; then it became an exhibit in the YMCA's scientific museum.

[8] This trip to White Deer Summit was a sort of milestone for me. I walked all the way on the trip home. This involved a long second-day stage of one hundred li (thirty plus miles). Bob did not believe in excessive praise, but he did indicate satisfaction that I would in future be able to "keep up with the men." (I was ten.)

[9] Our ability to produce so much ice cream was partly due to the several years that it took to achieve success in storing and preserving ice on the mountain. (The ice was limited in supply: it had to come from the rainwater tubs at the corners of our bungalow. And it was very hard to persuade the frugal caretaker to be profligate enough in using straw and sawdust for insulating.) The first year the plan was made, Bob ordered a two-quart hand-cranked freezer from Montgomery Ward. When it arrived it did not look large enough for our pent-up appetites. A four-quart freezer was then ordered. And the next year it was a six-quart freezer. There were three flavors: vanilla, maple, or fresh peach (the best!). All this took a lot of cranking, but the servants were happy: they got all the brine from the freezers (salt was expensive, and not a drop was lost). Regrettably, Bob never succeeded in having ice last into the summer so that we could have ice cream on the mountain.

gent Hanlin ," an old Confucian scholar of the highest grade. With black mustache, huge glasses, and a cap with a queue sewed into it, many could not identify him for some time. Madame Bodard, the French consul's wife, was also dressed by Chinese as a Chinese and was superlatively effective.^[10]

What I recall as the most pleasure was the planning of costumes out of what we had or could get locally: fixing my own clothes; making a wig for Earl Dome out of raw silk thread, parted, curled, and tied with a black bow; and doing odd and unexpected things for others. We had no "outside amusements" and so had to make what we could, deriving from our own efforts the acme of enjoyment.

On March 18, the anniversary of our engagement, Bob gave me a set of the most exquisite white satin scrolls, each embroidered to represent a season. The card with them said: "In fragrant memory of a day / Long ago and far away." Just after this, I lost the ruby out of my engagement ring. It was there when I dressed, but as I put on my hat to go out calling, I saw it was gone. The servants and all of us spent hours of searching, all to no effect.

For more than two years I had been urging the YWCA to start work in Chengtu. When two American YW secretaries finally arrived, I was disappointed to be unable to meet and entertain them. All that had to be left to Mabelle Yard. I had been in the doctor's hands all that spring, and by the middle of May was down with flu and laryngitis. I had quite a bit of fever and ached all over, and Bob could get no nurse. Finally, one of my good Canadian friends, Kathryn Ross, gave up time from her rest and recreation hours each day to come over to bathe, rub, and fix me up, telling the cook what to prepare for me, and helping in the ways that only a trained nurse knows. For once, I was too ill to manage the house or meals.

I was still weak when June came. The servants aired and sunned the woolens, and Bob helped put them away. He wanted to get me away to the hills. There was a cholera scare in the city, and he pushed up our departure by several days. I was hardly able to get ready before we were off.

[10] The son of the French consul, Mr. Bodard, has written at least two books about his growing up in Chengtu (Lucien Bodard, The French Consul , Knopf, 1977; and Le Fils du Consul , Grasset, 1975). His life seems to have been a bit more exotic and exciting than mine, especially his experiences with his amah.