TOMBES — RUMEURS

PAUL CLAUDEL (1868—1955)

L’on monte, l’on descend; on dépasse le grand banyan, qui, comme un Atlas s’affermissant puissamment sur ses axes tordus, du genou et de l’épaule a l’air d’attendre la charge du ciel : à son pied un petit édicule où l’on brûle tous les papiers que marque le mot noir, comme si, au rude dieu de l’arbre, on offrait un sacrifice d’écriture. L’on tourne, l’on se détourne, et, par un chemin sinueux, — vraiment sans que l’on fût ailleurs, car nos pas depuis le départ en sont accompagnés, — nous entrons dans le pays des tombes. Comme un saint en prière dans la solitude, l’étoile du soir voit au-dessous d’elle le soleil disparaître sous les eaux profondes et diaphanes.

La région funèbre que nous envisageons à la blême lumière d’un jour louche est tout entière couverte d’une bourre rude et jaune, telle qu’un pelage de tigre. Du pied au faîte, les collines entre lesquelles s’engage notre chemin, et, du côté opposé de la vallée, d’autres montagnes à perte de vue, sont forées de tombes comme une garenne de terriers.

La mort, en Chine, tient autant de place que la vie. Le défunt, dès qu’il a trépassé, devient une chose importante et suspected, un protecteur malfaisant — morose, quelqu’un qui est là et qu’il faut se concilier. Les liens entre les vivants et les morts se dénouent mal, les rites subsistent et se perpétuent. A chaque instant on va à la tombe de famille, on brûle de l’encens, on tire des pétards, on offre du riz et du porc, sous la forme d’un morceau de papier on dépose sa carte de visite et on la comfirme d’un caillou. Les morts dans leur épais cercueil restent longtemps à l’intérieur de la maison, puis on les porte en plein air, ou on les empile dans de bas réduits, jusqu’à ce que le géomancien ait trouvé le site et le lieu. C’est alors qu’on établit à grand soin la résidence funèbre, de peur que l’esprit, s’y trouvant mal, n’aille errer ailleurs. On taille les tombes dans le flanc des montagnes, dans la terre solide et primitive, et tandis que, pénible multitude, les vivants se pressent dans le fond des vallées, dans les plaines basse et marécageuses, les morts, au large, en bon lieu, ouvrent leur demeure au soleil et à l’espace.

Elle affecte la forme d’un Oméga appliqué sur la pente de la colline, et dont le demi-cercle de pierre prolongé par des accolades entoure le mort qui, comme un dormeur sous les draps, fait au milieu sa bosse : c’est ainsi que la terre, lui ouvrant, pour ainsi dire, les bras, le fait sien et se le consacre à elle-même. Devant est placée la tablette où sont inscrits les titres et le nom, car les Chinois pensent qu’un certain tiers de l’âme, s’arrêtant à lire son nom, séjourne dessus. Elle forme comme le retable d’un autel de pierre sur lequel on dépose les offrandes symétriques, et, au devant, la tombe, de l’arrangement cérémonial de ses degrés et de ses balustrades, accueille, initie la famille vivante qui, aux jours solennels, vient y honorer ce qui reste de l’ancêtre défunt : l’hiéroglyphe primordial et testamentaire. En face l’hémicycle réverbère l’invocation.

Toute terre qui s’élève au-dessus de la boue est occupée par les tombes vastes et basses, pareilles à des orifices de puits bouchés. Il en est de petites aussi, de simples et de multiples, de neuves, et d’autres qui paraissent aussi vieilles que les rocs où elles sont accotées. La plus considérable se trouve en haut de la montagne et comme dans le pli de son cou : mille hommes enseble pourraient s’agenouiller dans son enceinte.

J’habite moi-même ce pays de sépultures, et, par un chemin différent, je regagne le sommet de la colline où est ma maison.

La ville se trouve au bas, de l’autre côté du large Min jaune qui, entre les piles du pont des Dix-Mille-Ages, précipite ses eaux violentes et profondes. Le jour, on voit, tel que la margelle des tombes dont j’ai parlé, se développer le rempart de montagnes ébréchées qui enserre la ville (des pigeons qui volent, la tour au milieu d’une pagode font sentir l’immensité de cet espace), des toits biscornus, deux collines couvertes d’aubres, s’élevant d’entre les maisons, et sur la rivière une confusion de trains de bois et de jonques aux poupes historiées comme des images. Mais maintenant il fait trop sombre : à peine un feu qui au-dessous de moi pique le soir et la brume, et, par le chemin que je connais, m’insinuant sous l’ombrage funèbre des pins, je gagne mon poste habituel, ce grand tombeau triple, noir de mousse et de vieilesse, oxydé comme une armure, qui domine obliquement l’espace de son parapet suspicieux.

Je viens ici pour écouter.

Les villes chinoises n’ont ni usines, ni voitures : le seul bruit qui y soit entendu quand vient le soir et que le fracas des métiers cesse, est celui de la voix humaine. C’est cela que je viens écouter, car quelqu’un, perdant son intérêt dans le sens des paroles que l’on profère devant lui, peut leur prêter une oreille plus subtile. Près d’un million d’habitants vivent là : j’écoute cette multitude parler sous le lac de l’air. C’est une clameur à la fois torrentielle et pétillante, sillonnée de brusques forte, tels qu’un papier qu’on déchire. Je crois même distinguer parfois une note et des modulations, de même qu’on accorde un tambour, en posant son doigt aux places justes. La ville à divers moments de la journée fait-elle une rumeur différente? Je me propose de le vérifier. — En ce moment, c’est le soir : on fait une immense publication des nouvelles de la journée. Chacun croit qu’il parle seul : il s’agit de rixes, de nourriture, de faits de ménage, de famille, de métier, de commerce, de politique. Mais sa parole ne périt pas : elle porte, de l’innombrable addition de la voix collective où elle participe. Dépouillée de la chose qu’elle signifie, elle ne subsiste plus que par les éléments inintelligibles du son qui la convoie, l’émission, l’intonation, l’accent. Or, comme il y a un mélange entre les sons, se fait-il une communication entre les sens, et quelle est la grammaire de ce discours commun? Hôte des morts, j’écoute longtemps ce murmure, le bruit que fait la vie, de loin.

Cependant il est temps de revenir. Les pins entre les hauts fûts desquels je poursuis ma route accroissent d’ombre la nuit. C’est l’heure où l’on commence à voir les mouches à feu, lares de l’herbe. Comme dans la profondeur de la méditation, si vite que l’esprit n’en peut percevoir que la lueur même, une indication soudaine, c’est ainsi que l’impalpable miette de feu brille en même temps et s’éteint.

(Taken from Paul Claudel’s book Connaissance de l’Est, first published in 1900.)

Asiatic Tailor-Bird

Asiatic Tailor-Bird

Fig. No. 1, NEST OF TAILOR-BIRD.

The little Tailor-bird, supposed to be about the smallest bird in this part of Southern Asia, is a very common resident of Foochow and vicinity. While other species are migrating with the changing seasons this little friend remains throughout the entire year in its chosen home.

Description

The Tailor-bird is about 3 3-4 to 4 1-4 inches in length. It is a uniform light olive-green on entire upper parts. The forehead is a delicate shade of brown. Entire under parts pearl gray. The beak is straight and pointed. Male and female almost identical, except that the male bird often has tail quills extended slightly, giving the appearance of pins.

Nest and Eggs

The picture books of our boyhood days but very poorly give an idea of the nest and nesting habits of the ever busy little friend. The habits of the bird are very much like those of the Carolina Wren of the homeland. One naturally feels that he has met some member of the Wren family upon first forming an acquaintance with the little Tailor-bird, and as the nesting season approaches he begins to follow the little fellow among the flower pots of the door yard, hoping to see him disappear inside the door of a Wren’s home. The bird is very seldom seen at any very great height from the ground, so it is but natural that we should expect to find the nest among the flowers of the garden as this is the most favorite resort of the bird.

The nest is a very compact structure, composed of only the very softest vegetable fiber, webs and plant down. There is a slight framework of grasses which seems to be used for no other purpose than to give form and strength to the nest. This little nest is firmly riveted to a folded leaf, or as the case may be, to one or more leaves which have been made to constitute the walls of the little residence.

The bird very skillfully draws the leaves together and pierces them with her beak. Through these holes webs and hempen fiber is threaded in such a way as to form a rivet which cannot be withdrawn through the same hole. These threads are shortened and interwoven in such a way as to draw the leaf, or leaves, forming the exterior wall of the nest into a cup-shape. Within the confines of these walls the compact structure is skillfully formed into a little home.

Figure No. 1, shows the next of the Tailor-bird in a large banana leaf. This next was about eighteen feet from the ground and contained four eggs. Figure No. 2, shows a next constructed by the same pair of birds. This nest was constructed within three days from the time next No. 1 was taken. This next was placed in the leaf of a canna, and only eleven inches from the ground.

Fig. 2, NEST OF TAILOR-BIRD.

Both of these photos will serve to correct the idea that the Tailor-bird sews its nest up in a leaf in the criss-cross fashion as portrayed in our picture books.

Fig. 3, NEST OF TAILOR-BIRD.

Figure No. 3 shows a next placed between two or more leaves, and gives a fair idea of the method with which the bird rivets its next to the leaves. This next was located almost twenty feet from the ground. Another next was being built in a wisteria vine about six feet from the ground. The faithful little pair labored nearly a week trying to form this mass of material into a home. The leaves of the wisteria were not strong enough to sustain the weight of the nest so it was necessary for the birds to select a more suitable nesting site. This was accomplished in the selection of the nesting site as shown in figure No. 3.

The eggs of the Tailor-bird generally number four, and are of a clear white, or white slightly tinted with green, ground color, marked and spotted with red and brown. The average size of the egg is about that of the Blue-gray Gnat-catcher, though slightly longer and of a more oval shape.

Habits

This little wren-like bird is one of the most common residents of this immediate part of southern China. It lives in close proximity to the ground, and is seldom seen in trees, except while passing from one feeding ground to another. The flight of the bird is very noticeable. It passes from tree to tree with the seeming effort of a wounded bird, or one that has been drenched with the pouring rain. The little pair seem to be very devoted to each other, and are just as inseparable during the winter months as during the breeding season.

Often while busy in search of food, the little pair become separated and one of the birds mounts some pinnacle and utter a clear loud note which brings a low response from the mate from the nearby bush, and soon the happy pair are at work side by side peering into every crevice and among the dead leaves for miller or larva which makes up the daily diet.

The notes of the bird, like its actions, very much resemble those of the Carolina Wren. You have all heard the Wren from some fence post call its mate Eugena, eu-ge-na, and in like manner do we often hear the little Tailor-bird call Tu-dok, tu-dok, tu-dok, which happens to be the name of many little Chinese boys.

There is a common proverb among the Chinese to the effect, “The Tailor-bird lays Goose eggs,” which metaphor means, “A small ting accomplishing much.” This would indicate that the Tailor-bird is considered by the natives to be about the smallest bird in China. So far as my observation goes I should say that it is.

Is It a Water-Thrush?

One of the most interesting features in the study of bird life in a foreign land is the comparison of species with like species in the homeland. I have been much interested in following up the comparison of specie in this section of China with birds common to my home field of study in Tennessee, though I have found quite a number of birds which appear to be strangers to anything with which I am acquainted.

NESTING SITE - A GLIMPSE OF CHINA

One of the most interesting specie with which I have met is what I should term a Water Thrush. The home of this bird is in the wild ravines of the mountain passes. The bird is somewhat the shape of the American Robin, but quite a little larger. The male is of a uniform deep black with feathers tipped with blue giving the bird a decided blue tint. The female is about the same color with markings less distinct.

I visited a wild ravine only a few minutes walk from my home where a clear little stream rushes down from the distant top of the mighty mountain. This visit was paid in early April, and at that time I found a pair of these Thrushes (?) had chosen the ravine as a summer home. After a few minutes search among the rocks I found the great bulky nest of green moss and mud upon the bare face of an overhanging rock. The nest was wet with the spray from the ever roaring stream only a few feet below. This nest has all the appearance of an abnormally large Phoebe’s nest except that the inner lining is of dried leaves and a few rootlets. The set of partly incubated eggs taken from this nest number four, and are of a white clay color with a purplish tint shading into a wreath around the larger end. The eggs are rather larger than those of a Brown Thrasher.

NEST IN SITUATION

The habits of this bird are peculiar to itself. I have never seen the bird except in close proximity to some of the wilds of nature. The most common retreat is in some mountain gorge where a clear stream lashes itself into a spray over the cataracts and falls. Here the bird may be seen flying from rock to rock just above the spray of the current, and alighting upon some little pinnacle, expanding its broad black tail as if delighting in its rich and glossy hues. These birds are quite solitary even during the breeding season. I have never seen them show the least fellowship with other birds, or even with those of their own kind. The note of the bird Che-e-e, uttered in a clear whistling tone. Other than this I have never heard a sound from the bird.

In the accompanying pictures you will see the nest and home of the pair from which I secured a set of eggs. Upon first consideration you may lead to pronounce the bird an Ouzel, but I think there is hardly any resemblance between the two birds. The bird does not, so far as I have been able to detect, ever enter the water except, possibly, to run along on the shoals in search of insects and larva.

I would be glad to have your ideas upon the subject, and any one addressing me at Foochow, China, will certainly receive an immediate reply to any matters of inquiry.

Miscellaneous Notes

A person who has paid special attention to bird life in the temperate portion of the middle and southern States, upon arriving at the barge port of Foochow, China, and looking out upon a climate always breezy and balmy would naturally think he would soon meet a great number of friends among members of the feathered tribe. He soon begins to recognize a great many very marked inconsistencies however, for though he stands in the midst of one vast flower garden of nature, he does not see any variety of the little Humming-bird so common to a spot like this in the homeland. This is one of the first facts which the observer meets, and here begins a long series of just such disappointments. During the almost three years of my stay in China I have seen but few, if any, of the Warbler family. This is quite as surprising as the above, for the climate and surroundings seem especially adapted to such birds. During the Spring and early summer the Flycatchers seem to predominate, but these too, with the exception of possibly two or three varieties remove to other quarters as the nesting season draws nigh. One very beautiful variety of this family is the Paradise Flycatcher. This bird arrives from winter quarters just as the trees are fresh and green with their Easter attire. Its beautiful rich brown color blends nicely with its surroundings as it dashes and whirls amid the foliage and flowers in quest of its food. The male bird has a very glossy black head and neck, belly and underparts silvery gray, and entire upper surface a very deep shade of brown. The two central tail quills are prolonged to nearly twice the length of the bird. This addition of tail seems to come with age however, for I have seen many male birds which were deprived of such ornament. The nest of the Paradise Flycatcher is well in keeping with the grace and beauty of the bird. It is a structure of green moss, lichens and webs on the outer surface, deeply cupped and lined with fine rootlets and palm fiber. The nest is generally placed in a vertical fork from ten to forty feet from the ground. One interesting feature of this otherwise very interesting specie, is that the male bird willingly takes his turn in incubating. It is a rather interesting spectacle to see this bird nearly fifteen inches in length incubating on a nest not larger than the ordinary Blue-gray Gnatcatcher’s nest.

One has not arrived long in the port of Foochow when he hears the familiar note of the Chickadee from some of the overhanging boughs of the ever green olive trees. To all appearances of sight and sound he has now met his little friend Parus atricapillus, but here too, he meets a surprise as well as a disappointment. I had carefully observed several pairs of these birds during the greater part of an entire nesting season and had become much perplexed upon finding myself unable to locate the nesting site. But finally I saw the female bird fly to the top of a high pine with a worm in her beak, and a moment later drop from that height like a stone to the ground. Upon examination I found a small hole in the almost level ground and after excavating near fifteen inches disclosed a typical nest of the Chickadee family containing seven well fledged young. Since that day I have found many nests of this bird in like locations and in one or two instances in the cavity of trees. One or more very peculiar nesting sites which have some under my observation might be worth mentioning. The fields and hillsides in this section are terraced for the growing of rice. These terraces are generally from one to three feet high containing several inches of water. I once found the home of a Chickadee in one of these terraces though it hardly seemed that there could be a dry spot between these two surfaces of water. This bird had found a very small hole in the dyke but a few inches above water line, and in this home had a family of six little ones.

During the spring months there are indeed a great variety of birds to be found throughout this section, but as the nesting season draws near they gradually disappear until the month of Many finds comparatively few species who make this their summer home. Of these there is no family better represented than the heron. There are a number of species of the heron which are marked only by a difference of coloration. Some are snow white, others white with buff colored head and back, others white with very deep brown head and neck and others almost black. These birds live and nest in great colonies in the massive banyan trees overhanging some temple court or the narrow busy street. There are three or four large trees in the heart of this city (Ku-cheng) which have hundreds of nests of these birds. It seems as though every available place has a slight platform of sticks through which can easily be seen the pale green eggs or incubating bird. During the breeding season these birds may be seen by hundreds gracefully flying to and from the nearby rice fields where they feed.

It is estimated that one of these large banyan trees would produce from five hundred to one thousand eggs of this specie, but still we find it difficult to secure sets of the eggs. Such trees as these massive banyans are held sacred and often worshipped. Though the Chinaman is willing to do many things in order to earn his rice, it is almost impossible to find a person who would dare climb one of these trees to collect a few sets of heron eggs even though he be offered a bowl of rice for every egg. There is a fixed belief that the god who makes his home in this tree would be very angry if a person would intrude upon his rights to the extent of climbing into his home. This superstition has protected these herons to the extent that they nest yearly by the hundreds in certain of the many massive banyans overhanging the busy streets.

(Published in American Ornithology for the Home and School in 1903 by Harry Russell Caldwell, Methodist missionary to Foochow.)

The Foochow Choral Union

In the summer of 1901 the Rev. F. Ohlinger, of the Methodist Episcopal Mission, made the suggestion to me that in such a large Christian student centre as Foochow it ought to be possible to develop really good singing, and that we should aim at some kind of annual Choral Festival for which the schools should prepare.

We then determined to make an appeal to the leading Christian schools and colleges and ask them to co-operate and to take part in such a festival on the Easter Monday of 1902. We prepared one simple anthem for all the schools to practice and asked each school in addition to prepare a special piece of its own. The idea was very warmly taken up, and when the day arrived the largest church in Foochow, holding nearly 2,000 people, was completely crowded out. Three services were held on that first day, an effort which we have long since abandoned, and we were all fairly tired out when the day was over. But the festival had been a success. The music was very simple and entirely in unison, there was no separation between the choir and the congregation; there was no conductor and there had been no rehearsal beforehand and therefore there were many mistakes and much to be desired, but the Chinese were greatly pleased and it was generally felt that the movement was full of possibilities. It was therefore decided at the next united monthly prayer-meeting that a committee should be chosen of one lady and one gentleman from each of the three missions to arrange for a similar festival on the Easter Monday of 1903.

For the first few years the singing was entirely in unison and though there was a choir, it did not face the congregation.

We very soon, however, gave up the practice of each school singing a special piece: that was only done the first year and we saw how easily it would lead to rivalry and break down the thought of worship which we were trying to cultivate. From the first there has always been a short ten to fifteen minutes’ address on the resurrection and a few general hymns for the congregation.

With the advent of part singing and the choir facing the congregation a great advance was made and at last we have come to limit the choir to 150 voices, each school being allowed so many. This year sixteen schools took part, (eight girls’ schools and eight boys) and the greatest number of voices allowed to any one school was sixteen. Male voices in proportion are allowed to the senior schools, as they have naturally more voices capable of being trained and no voices are allowed to day schools. In addition to the general choir of 150 there is now a special choir of 132 voices chosen from the University (men) and the College Preparatory (girls). This special choir sings a special anthem and represents perhaps the high water mark to which our part singing has reached. We had two big anthems this year sung by the general choir, one of which “Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem,” by Maunder, being quite difficult, and yet it was sung excellently, and with good expression. We are, of course, fortunate in having in Mr. Newell a very capable conductor and we were able this Easter to have three general rehearsals.

Another special feature of the Easter Festival of recent years has been the blind boys’ band. This band plays during the collection which adds greatly to the service.

It is necessary now to have two services each year, one on Easter Monday and one in another centre on the Saturday before Easter. Even so we have to limit the numbers attending each service to 2,000 by ticket, and it will be readily seen that a good deal of thought and organization is necessary.

For many years we struggled with debt, caused chiefly by printing our own music, but now we order music direct from home and then translate the English into Chinese and get each school to make its own copies with a Chinese pen. The collections each year amount to about $50 and this more than covers all the expenses of the festival, i.e., teas, platform, etc., and we have a balance at present of about $80 in hand.

The improvement in the singing here has been so marked since the Choral Union was started and the interest aroused in the Easter Festival has been so greatly especially in the schools, that I cannot help thinking that something on similar lines might be tried in almost all large student centres.

(By W. S. Pakenham-Walsh, first published in the Chinese Recorder of June 1919.)