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Wading Barefoot through a Mountain Stream: Introduction

Wading Barefoot through a Mountain Stream
Introduction
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table of contents
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. List of Illustrations
  6. List of Maps
  7. Acknowledgments
  8. Conventions
  9. Chronology of Major Chinese Dynastic and Historical Periods
  10. Introduction
  11. The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake
  12. Part I: The Mountain Diaries, 1613–1633
    1. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Tiantai
    2. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Yandang
    3. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Baiyue
    4. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Huang
    5. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Wuyi
    6. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Lu
    7. A Later Sightseeing Trip to Mount Huang
    8. A Sightseeing Trip to Nine Carp Lake
    9. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Song
    10. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Taihua
    11. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Taihe
    12. Earlier Travels in Min
    13. Later Travels in Min
    14. A Later Sightseeing Trip to Mount Tiantai
    15. A Later Sightseeing Trip to Mount Yandang
    16. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Wutai
    17. A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Heng
  13. Part II: The Provincial Diaries, 1636–1639
    1. Travels in Zhe
    2. Travels in Jiangyou
    3. Travels in Chu
    4. Travels in Western Yue
    5. Travels in Qian
    6. Travels in Dian [Selected Writings]
  14. Appendix 1. Chronology of Xu Xiake
  15. Appendix 2. Commemorative Tomb Biography of Xu Xiake, by Chen Hanhui (1589–1646)
  16. Appendix 3. Biography of Xu Xiake, by Qian Qianyi (1582–1664)
  17. Appendix 4. “Short Biography of Xu Xiake,” from the Mount Chicken Foot Gazetteer
  18. Appendix 5. Preface [to The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake], by Pan Lei (1646–1708)
  19. Appendix 6. “Lamenting Tranquil Hearing, My Buddhist Companion: Six Poems with a Preface,” by Xu Xiake
  20. Appendix 7. “Ten Views of Mount Chicken Foot: Seventeen Poems,” by Xu Xiake
  21. Bibliography
  22. List of Contributors
  23. General Glossary-Index
  24. Place-Name Glossary-Index

Introduction

Xu Xiake (1587–1641) has been canonized as China’s greatest traveler. In twenty-six separate journeys, he spent more than eighteen years traveling around China, visiting sites known for their scenic beauty and exploring places notable for their geographical, historical, and literary importance.1 Xu’s extensive travels took him to nineteen of modern China’s twenty-three provinces, one of its four municipalities (Beijing), and one of its five autonomous regions (Guangxi). However, his reputation as China’s “greatest” traveler is not based solely on the vast extent of his travels. Xu was also a prolific travel writer. The written accounts of his journeys, collectively titled The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake (Xu Xiake youji), survive and have been circulated and published in hand-copied and printed editions since his death. According to Zhu Huirong (1936–2018), Xu Xiake’s extant travel writings comprise more than six hundred thousand Chinese characters (in Zhu’s modern edition, two hefty volumes).2 It is almost certain that no Chinese travel writer, either before or after him, composed more written accounts of his experiences on the road.

FAMILY BACKGROUND AND LIFE

Xu Xiake lived during the final decades of the Ming dynasty, a period in Chinese history that has received much attention from historians and literary scholars. Most relevant to Xu Xiake and his travel experiences are two societal changes in the late Ming (roughly 1570–1644) that affected the development of travel writing. First, because of land and water transportation improvements—driven by an expanding commerce-driven economy—all levels of society became more mobile than in any previous period of Chinese history. This improved mobility led to a tremendous rise in tourism. Sightseeing for pleasure flourished in the late Ming. To cite one often-quoted report dating from 1631 and written by one of Xu’s contemporaries, up to twenty thousand people flocked to Mount Tai in Shandong every day during the peak tourist season in spring.3 A significant, related development is this: before the late Ming, the overwhelming number of persons who had the opportunity to travel regularly were government officials, who typically were reassigned to new government posts in the provinces once every three years. Over a career in public service, the average government official could visit notable places around China and sometimes even travel to sites in distant border regions. By the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, however, many people, including merchants, ordinary tourists, religious pilgrims, and even migrant workers, now had professional and personal reasons to travel. They did so in unprecedented numbers. Unlike in the past, there were no government restrictions on personal mobility. Moreover, private individual travel also became common during the late Ming era. Sometimes, these private travelers were highly educated men who chose not to pursue a career as a government official and instead preferred to devote their lives to other pursuits. Xu Xiake is one such person whose passion for geography and history inspired him to dedicate his life to travel and investigating extraordinary scenic sites.

Map of China with rivers, cities, and mountain sites marked with symbols. Routes trace across regions, with coastlines and a scale bar included.Long description: A map of eastern and southern China includes labeled geographic features and locations. The Yellow River and Changjiang are marked, along with other rivers such as the Min River and Dadu River. Cities including Beijing, Jiangyin, Hangzhou, Nanning, Kunming, Guilin, Liuzhou, Yongzhou Prefecture, Lijiang Prefecture, Heng Prefecture, Dali, and Yongchang are labeled with circular markers. Mountain sites such as Mount Pan, Mount Tai, Mount Song, Mount Wutai, Mount Heng in both the north and south, Mount Huashan, Mount Wudang, Mount Huang, Mount Tiantai, Mount Yadang, Mount Lu, Mount Baiyue, Mount Jiuyi, Mount Luofu, and Mount Chicken Foot are marked with triangular symbols. The Yellow Sea and South China Sea are labeled along the coast. Routes connect many of these locations across the map. A scale bar of 200 kilometers, with 200 miles, appears at the lower right, and a north arrow is at the lower left.

Map 1. Xu Xiake’s Travels, 1613–39. Based on Map of Xu Xiake’s Travels in Ward, Xu Xiake, 80.

Xu Xiake came from a family with a long tradition of producing government officials. According to Chen Hanhui (1589–1646), author of Xu’s commemorative tomb biography, his distant ancestor Xu Gu (fl. early twelfth cent.), served as municipal governor (yin) of Kaifeng in Henan, the capital of the Northern Song dynasty.4 When alien Jurchen Jin military forces invaded north China in the mid-1120s and later besieged and annihilated Kaifeng (the city fell in January 1127), Xu Gu and many other government officials fled to safety in the south, eventually settling in Hangzhou. A Song exile capital was later established in that city. Xu Gu’s descendants, several of whom served as government officials in the south, settled in areas in and around modern Jiangsu. A fifth-generation descendant of Xu Gu, known as One Thousand and Eleven (Qianshiyi; ca. mid-thirteenth cent.), also a government official, after the Mongol invasion took up residence in a village in Jiangsu near Jiangyin called Wucheng. Xu Xiake’s branch of the Xu family supposedly descends directly from One Thousand and Eleven.5 The family’s history during the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) is not documented. Still, beginning with Xu Xiake’s ninth-generation relative Xu Qi (1362–1445), we know that at least one family member was summoned to government service during the fourteenth century. Xu Qi did not take the civil service exams, but he responded to a government call to serve as a special envoy to Sichuan, where he convinced proto-Tibetan tribes to pledge loyalty to the Ming. After his triumphant return home, the Xu family’s land holdings increased dramatically under Xu Qi’s leadership, making it one of the wealthiest families in Jiangnan.6

Xu Xiake’s great-great-grandfather Xu Jing (1473–1507), like his father Xu Yuanxian (1454–81) before him, passed the provincial civil service examination in Nanjing. This was in 1495. While there, he became good friends with Tang Yin (1470–1524), a brilliant young scholar from Suzhou who came out first in the provincial exam.7 The two friends traveled to Beijing in 1499 to take the national-level examination. However, Xu Jing and Tang Yin were accused of bribing a servant of one of the chief examiners, who allegedly gave them the examination questions in advance. Both were thrown into prison. They were later released but barred from retaking the examinations, and the scandal cost the chief examiner his post. Although disgraced, Tang Yin was subsequently able to make a living selling his paintings, and eventually, he became one of the most famous painters in Chinese art history. Xu Jing returned to Jiangyin, where he lived in obscurity, waiting for a pardon until he died in 1507.8 Whether Xu Jing and Tang Yin cheated is still uncertain (they allegedly confessed only after being tortured in prison). Still, it is reasonable to assume that the memory of Xu Jing’s suffering and embarrassment cast a dark shadow over his descendants, none of whom served as officials in the Ming government. In any case, the scandal certainly affected the Xu family’s social position and economic status in a negative way.

Xu Jing fathered three sons and two daughters, all of whom settled around the city of Jiangyin in Jiangsu. The family of his second son, Xu Qia (1497–1564), lived in a village near Jiangyin called Nanyangqi. Xu Qia was Xu Xiake’s great-grandfather. Although he attended a government school supervised by the Directorate of Education (Guozi Jian), Xu Qia took and failed the national-level examination seven times. The oldest of his four sons, Xu Yanfang (?–1563), Xu Xiake’s grandfather, had six sons, the third of whom, Xu Youmian (1545–1604), was Xu Xiake’s father.9 The acreage of family land inherited by Xu Youmian and his five brothers was less—probably much less—than that distributed to previous generations, resulting in a decline in revenue produced by those limited land holdings.10 The famous painter, calligrapher, and government official Dong Qichang (1555–1636), in his commemorative tomb biography for Xu Xiake’s father, remarked that the Xu family was in decline.11

This brief family history reveals that Xu Xiake came from a well-to-do family in Jiangyin that was distinguished because it had produced—over previous generations—scholars who had held public office. There is no doubt that Xu Youmian, like his father and grandfather before him, had received a traditional Confucian education aimed at preparing him for success in the imperial examinations and a distinguished career as a government official, which would have helped to repair the family’s reputation and bolster its economic base. However, Xu Youmian never sought public office, preferring to remain home and enjoy managing the family gardens or taking his grandchildren on sightseeing trips to Suzhou and Hangzhou. He disliked government officials so much that he avoided them whenever they came calling at the Xu residence in Nanyangqi.12 We do not know the source of his aversion to public service and distaste for government officials. Still, the Xu Jing scandal, which was undoubtedly a stain on the family’s reputation, could have affected his thinking. Moreover, Xu Youmian’s decision not to serve the Ming government seems to have influenced his son, Xu Xiake, who was only seventeen years old when his father was seriously wounded in an encounter with robbers during a home invasion. Xu Youmian later died from his wounds.

Xu Xiake likely took and failed the civil service examinations at a young age.13 Even if we assume this to be the case, there is no evidence to suggest that he sat for the exams a second time. Whatever the reason, this decision (or inaction) effectively ended the Xu family’s prestigious reputation for producing scholar-officials (none of Xu’s four sons served in government office). Although scholars have speculated about what may have driven him ultimately to reject a possible career in the Ming bureaucracy, his writings say practically nothing about personal matters. Perhaps the simple answer is that he did not have to follow such a career. However, it should be acknowledged that the late Ming was a politically risky time for officials, especially those who dared to criticize government policy. Xu Xiake’s close friend Huang Daozhou (1585–1646), a high-ranking government official, was imprisoned for making candid remarks about the Ming emperor.14 However, why did Xu Xiake devote his life to travel and exploration? What led him to follow such a course?

Few details are known about Xu Xiake’s early years. We know that he received traditional Confucian schooling, the purpose of which was to prepare him for the examinations. However, he rejected this path. According to Chen Hanhui, as a young man, “Xu was especially fond of extraordinary books and spent excessive amounts of time reading extensively through historical and geographical accounts, illustrated works about the mountains and seas, and the entire corpus of accounts of transcendent beings and eminent recluses. Whenever he read these works, he would need to cover them with Confucian texts, under which he would then enjoy reading these extraordinary books. They made his spirit cheery and content.”15 It seems likely that Xu’s taste for “extraordinary books” and lack of interest in Confucian classics could have emerged early, especially since his father had rejected an official career and died when Xu was just a teenager. His father’s passing, in turn, may have lessened the pressure on him to sit for the exams. However, his chosen life path would have needed his mother’s blessing.

By all accounts, Xu Xiake’s mother, née Wang, was an extraordinarily capable woman. According to an account written by Li Weizhen (1547– 1626), a high-ranking government official and leading writer and poet in the late Ming, after the death of her husband, Xu Youmian,

she took charge of matters inside and outside the home, succeeding in everything she did. She handled matters in a neat and orderly way, and there was no task she failed to accomplish. By nature, she was fond of planting, gardening, spinning, and weaving. Five of the family’s ten acres of land were dedicated to the residence,16 ringed by a bamboo fence on which beans were grown. She drew branches to stretch their tendrils and then spread silk sheets to form a net over them. She would get up before dawn and place her spinning wheel under a bower, where beans drooped and dangled, and the loom creaked and clattered. Decades seemed to pass in a single day.17

To generate revenue, she started a weaving business, which became the family’s primary source of income. She, her daughter, and her daughters-in-law produced cloth that was known far and near for its high quality. This new and thriving business returned the family to secure financial footing, which would have helped finance Xu Xiake’s travels.18 His mother supported those travels. In an often-quoted passage, she reportedly once said to him, “It is the ambition of men to travel far and wide. The Analects (Lunyu) says: ‘[A son] away from home must always have a specific direction in mind.’ It only asks that a son closely keep track of his distance and time away from home and should leave and return home at an arranged time. So, how could I force my son to stay cooped up like a pheasant inside an enclosure or a horse hitched to the shafts of a wagon?”19

In 1607, after observing the customary three-year period of mourning for his father, Xu Xiake began his travels. His mother prepared his luggage and made a special hat for him. However, Xu was aware of his filial duties and thus felt uneasy about being away from home, especially as his mother grew older. At the beginning of his Mount Song [Songshan]diary, written in early March 1623, he remarks:

Since childhood, I have cherished the ambition of visiting the Five Sacred Mountains. Because the Arcane Sacred Mountain [Mount Song in Henan] is regarded as superior among them, my admiration of it has been especially heartfelt. For a long time, I have planned to transit through Xiang and Yun, stroke Taihua with my hands, and then take the Linked Clouds Plankway [Lianyun Zhan] at Sword Belvedere [Jiange] as the first leg of my journey to Mount Emei. However, my mother is old, and my ambitions have changed, so I have no choice but to journey now to Mount Taihe, as I had planned earlier, which is a sightseeing trip that accords with having a specific destination.20

“Having a specific destination” alludes to the passage in the Analects just explained. Because of Xu Xiake’s filial obligations to his mother, especially in her twilight years, he selected a closer travel destination (Mount Taihe in Henan) if he thought he might need to return home to Jiangyin on short notice. A journey to Mount Emei in faraway Sichuan would have taken him over 1,200 miles (1,900 km) from home and at least two to three months to complete.21

The following year (1624), when his mother reached her eightieth birthday, Xu Xiake was home to join the celebrations. To properly mark the occasion, his mother announced she would accompany her son on a sightseeing trip to nearby Bramble Stream (Jingxi, in modern Yixing Shi, Jiangsu), where they could explore some caves together. One report says she insisted on walking in front of Xu on the way to Bramble Stream to demonstrate her excellent health.22 One observer remarked, “As for her second son’s [that is, Xu Xiake] travels, of the so-called nine traditional divisions of China, his itineraries probably took him to eight of them, and this was accomplished all because Ruren [that is, his mother] made it possible.”23 She passed away the following year (1625). Mindful of the customary mourning period for a deceased parent, Xu planned no other sightseeing trips. Over the next two years, an unstable political situation on a national level, instigated by the notorious eunuch Wei Zhongxian (1568–1627), led to the death by suicide of Xu Xiake’s good friend Gao Panlong (1562–1626).24 This and related events may also have kept Xu Xiake at home. The political situation finally stabilized after Wei committed suicide in 1627 and Emperor Xizong (r. 1620–27) died. When the new Emperor Chongzhen (r. 1627–44) assumed the throne, Xu Xiake was again on the road, heading south for a sightseeing tour of Fujian.

Xu Xiake’s biographers usually divide his years of travel into two general periods. The first period extends from 1607 until 1633, when he traveled extensively throughout north and south China. Among his favorite destinations were famous mountains, such as Mounts Tiantai and Yandang in Zhejiang. Xu also traveled to Mount Huang [Huangshan] in Anhui and Mount Lu in Jiangxi. The written accounts of his visits to these and other famous mountains are translated in part 1 of this book. His four-year journey to southwest China, which began in 1636, constitutes the second travel period. Selections from Xu’s trip to the southwest are translated in part 2.25 This lengthy trip took him through the modern provinces of Zhejiang, Jiangxi, Hunan, Guangxi, Guizhou, and Yunnan. Tranquil Hearing and a manservant named Gu Xing accompanied him.26 Until now, a rich, broad assortment of this material from the southwest diaries has not been available in English translation. Examples include Xu’s account of a bloody encounter with murderous river pirates in Hunan, his spelunking expeditions deep into limestone karst caverns in Guangxi, and his observations of, and interactions with, various indigenous border peoples in Yunnan, a remote and sometimes dangerous area that few Chinese travel writers dared to visit during the Ming. One of Xu Xiake’s primary destinations was Mount Chicken Foot [Jizu Shan] in Yunnan, on the distant southwestern border of the Ming empire. During the long journey to Yunnan, Xu and his traveling companions experienced numerous adventures and encountered severe difficulties and dangers. Many of his accounts describing these experiences are translated in part 2 of this book.

Even before his trip to the southwest, Xu had desired to visit Mount Emei in Sichuan. While in Yunnan, he also expressed interest in traveling to Tibet. But Mu Zeng (1587–1646), the chieftain ruler of the Lijiang Aboriginal Office in northern Yunnan who hosted Xu as a guest, prevented him from traveling any farther north because Mu feared danger from a local tribe and bandits along the road.27 Xu’s dream of climbing Mount Emei was also thwarted by poor health, which had seriously deteriorated by the end of his four-year trip to the southwest. Details about his journey home to Jiangyin are sketchy, but it seems almost certain that he did not reach Mount Emei. Mu Zeng arranged for Xu to travel from Mount Chicken Foot to Wuchang (near modern Wuhan Shi, Hubei) in a sedan chair, where he then boarded a boat on the Changjiang that took him downriver to Jiangyin. He reached home in the summer of 1640 and died there on 8 March 1641. He was fifty-four years old.

What explains Xu Xiake’s lifetime devotion to travel and exploration? If we can believe the anecdotes in his biographies, even as a young man, he had a keen interest in geography and history and a corresponding lack of interest in government service. However, several of his closest friends, including Huang Daozhou, did serve as officials in the Ming bureaucracy. His father’s example of not seeking a government post, however. may have inspired Xu to follow other pursuits, while his mother’s support of his travels was undoubtedly influential. The early Qing travel writer Pan Lei (1646–1708), writing in his preface to an earlier version of Xu Xiake’s travel writings, provides a somewhat cryptic yet fascinating insight concerning Xu Xiake’s lifelong devotion to travel and travel writing: “So, after all, what is it that Xiake accomplished? He accomplished something only because he did not set out to accomplish something.”28 In other words, Xu Xiake was not driven by some lofty purpose or noble ambition to achieve fame. Instead, he was motivated by his passion for visiting places known for their matchless beauty and geographical or historical significance. This passion led him to spend decades traveling China’s roads, trails, and waterways.

—James M. Hargett

THE DIARIES: TRANSMISSION AND EDITIONS

The history of transmitting Xu Xiake’s diaries is far from straightforward. Indeed, during the chaotic state of the nation following the collapse of the Ming dynasty in the 1640s, the very survival of the diaries was, at times, seriously at risk. Hence, the first printed edition appeared in 1776, well over a hundred years after Xu’s death. Before that date, the diaries existed only as hand-copied text. Most of our knowledge of the early versions of the diaries is based on the surviving prefaces of these versions as well as an essay written by Chen Hong (fl. 1776) titled “Overview of the Similarities and Differences Among the Various Editions [of The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake]” (Zhuben yitong kaolüe).29

Information about the last few months of Xu’s life is scant, including his return from Yunnan sometime in the summer of 1640 and the time leading up to his death in his hometown of Jiangyin in March 1641. The following year, Ji Mengliang recorded that Xu had handed his diary over and asked him to edit it, saying, “I was compelled to write my diary every day. However, it is jumbled and lacks order.”30 The text then passed briefly into the hands of Wang Yongji (jinshi 1622), Xu’s brother-in-law, before Xu’s eldest son, Xu Qi (1615–45), returned it to Ji Mengliang, saying: “Without your help, Xiake’s ambition cannot be realized.”31 Ji wrote, “I could see that Zhongren had arranged the manuscript carefully and put it in sequence. When I reread the text, I saw that it still contained many mistakes. I searched high and low for any more fragments to restore those parts of the text that Zhongren had not touched, compiling and editing it in a logical order and making it into a book to await the final revisions of a great scholar.”32 It was around this time that national events intervened. During military operations conducted by the Qing army, the town of Jiangyin was destroyed; Xu Xiake’s original manuscript was burned, and Xu Qi, his oldest son, was killed.

Ji Mengliang then compiled a second copy of the diaries, titled Diary of Xu Xiake’s Journey to the West (Xu Xiake Xi youji). Ji had to gather the material again, but some parts were missing. Ji Mengliang’s second transcript contains just five volumes of Xu’s journey to southwest China, ending with his visit to Guangxi. This version of the text was in private hands for many years before ending up in the National Library of China in Beijing.

There were several other critical early copies. The first one, not extant, was made by Cao Junfu (n.d.), who copied Ji’s original version. Cao’s copy was itself copied by Shi Xialong (n.d.), who spoke of looking for the text for many years before tracking it down in 1666. He wrote in his preface, “I hurriedly examined the manuscript. The scrawled and jumbled text was complicated to make sense of, and it was possible to make the text into a book only after extensive copying and editing.”33 Another copy, made in 1662 by Xu Jianji (1634–92), a grandson of Xu Xiake, which includes the journey to Guizhou and Yunnan, covers this latter part of Xu’s long journey and is included in modern versions of the diaries.

Vertical columns of handwritten characters cover a worn page, with ink variations, faint smudges, margins, and several rectangular seals stamped along the right side edge.

Figure 1. The first page of Xu Xiake’s “Travels in Zhe” diary. From Ji Mengliang’s (ca. mid-seventeenth cent.) hand-copied text, Diary of Xu Xiake’s Journey to the West (Xu Xiake Xi youji), 1643. Courtesy of the National Library of China, Rare Book Reading Room.

The most important of the early hand-copied editions of the diaries was that made in 1684 by Xu Xiake’s son, Li Ji (also known as Li Jieli, 1620/21–1691/92), which was based on a number of the earliest copies, including that made by Cao Junfu, and was used by many later compilers.34 Li Ji included several short essays from around the start of Xu’s visit to Yunnan, such as “Account of a Sightseeing Trip to Grand Splendor Mountain” (You Taihua Shan ji), “Account of a Sightseeing Trip to the Yan Caverns” (You Yandong ji), and “Investigation of the Pan River” (Panjiang kao).35 However, notable gaps totaling around three months remained, including four weeks when Xu was in and around Nanning and a further three weeks when he traveled between Wuding and Yuanmou Counties. Ji Mengliang discussed this gap, pointing out that he had lent this section of the diaries to Ji Yangzhi (n.d.), a relative, who took it to the house of his uncle Xu Yuqing (d. 1645), where it was destroyed just days later in a fire resulting from the chaos surrounding the collapse of the Ming dynasty. The most complete extant hand-copied version of the diaries was produced by Yang Mingshi (1661–1737), who had served as an official in both Yunnan and Guizhou and was thus well placed to pick up any errors that had found their way into the copies made by others.

The first printed edition of the diaries, known as the Qianlong edition, appeared in 1776. Based on the Li Ji (or Li Jieli) volume, along with notes by Yang Mingshi and Chen Hong, this version was edited and has a foreword by Xu Zhen (fl. 1776–1806), a descendant of Xu Xiake:

Wherever his steps took him, he would fashion the landscape into words that together would form a volume, collecting the volumes to create a book that people of an earlier age recognized as extraordinary. Unfortunately, he died before his work was completed. He relied on the Honorable Ji Mengliang to re-edit it into the shape of a book. Soon afterward, it was destroyed in a fire caused by rampaging soldiers. Only because Xu’s son Jieli compiled the edition he picked up from visiting the Shi and Cao families of Yixing did the diaries again form into a book. As copies of the diaries were passed around as entertainment, changes were made, and more than one person introduced revisions. Now, one hundred and forty years later, although I have obtained the early edition hand-copied by Yang Mingshi, a local, and the later edition by the Honorable Chen Hong, there are more copies around. Mistakes have gradually increased.… I compared the two editions and made my hand-copied edition to verify for the present and transmit for the future. I recalled how these two gentlemen had carried out meticulous research, you could say, to preserve the genuine article for later generations, but as later copies were made, mistakes and omissions increased.36

The geographer Ding Wenjiang (1887–1936) produced the first authoritative modern edition in 1928. Ding consulted seven texts, relying mainly on the 1808 version edited by Ye Tingjia (1754–1832). Ding’s edition included earlier prefaces, biographical essays, and poems by and about Xu Xiake, and for the first time, the essays written in honor of Xu Xiake’s mother’s eightieth birthday by Xu’s friends and acquaintances. This was the basis for editions that appeared years before the discovery of the Li Ji hand-copied diary.

The study of the diaries was transformed by the discovery in the National Library of China in Beijing in the 1970s of a hand-copied version of the text edited by Ji Mengliang. In September 1976, Zhou Ningxia (1931–2005), senior editor of the Shanghai Chinese Classics Publishing House (Shanghai Guji Chubanshe), invited two locally based academics, Chu Shaotang and Wu Yingshou, to produce an edition of the diaries, the first to be published since the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949. On hearing this news, the renowned historical geographer Tan Qixiang (1911–92) showed them a fragmentary version of the diaries he owned. Based on Xu Jianji’s copy, this text covered Xu’s journey to Guizhou and Yunnan. Zhou, Wu, and Chu subsequently sent inquiries to many of the country’s most important libraries and museums. This led to the discovery in the Beijing Library, now known as the National Library of China, of another fragmentary version covering the early section of Xu’s journey to southwest China as far as his visit to Guangxi. This was confirmed as part of the copy made by Ji Mengliang.37

This version added substantial amounts of new textual material for the early stages of Xu’s journey to southwest China, covering the 573 days between 1636 and 1638 he spent in Jiangyou [Jiangxi], Chu [Hunan], and Yuexi [Guangxi]. The earlier version covered 351 days, while the Ji Mengliang manuscript had 507. In addition, many of the individual entries for this period in Ji’s text are substantially longer than those in the earlier version. The most dramatic new material relating to the robbery on the Xiang River in present-day Hunan is translated in part 2.38 That is not to say that gaps do not remain, the most significant being certain sections of Xu’s visit to Guizhou and Yunnan.

Following examination and collation of several versions of the text, Chu Shaotang and Wu Yingshou’s edition (YJ) was published in Shanghai in 1980, while Zhu Huirong’s annotated version (YJJZ) was published in Yunnan in 1985. These editions have since undergone several reprintings as interest in the life and work of Xu Xiake has grown in China. Furthermore, between 2008 and 2009, Zhu Huirong and others produced a four-volume version of the diaries translated into modern vernacular Chinese, published in Guizhou.

The appearance of these greatly expanded versions of the diaries has led, over the last thirty-five years, to the publication of popular material aimed at attracting China’s expanding domestic travel market, academic papers from scholarly conferences, and a biannual journal Xu Xiake yanjiu (Research on Xu Xiake).

—Julian Ward

XU XIAKE AND THE ART OF HIS TRAVEL WRITING

Xu Xiake’s contemporaries often describe him as a qiren 奇人. They further define his travel writings as qishu 奇書 or qiwen 奇文. The Chinese character qi 奇 in these descriptive phrases is used as an adjective and embraces many meanings. China’s oldest, perhaps most authoritative dictionary defines qi as “unusual” (奇, 異也).39 Other lexicons gloss qi as “singular” (that is, without parallel), “extraordinary,” “remarkable,” “fantastic,” or even “wondrous.” For reasons that will emerge in the following discussion, when translating qi into English, we favor the adjective “extraordinary.” So when Xu’s biographers and later literary historians praised him and his writings as endowed with the quality of qi, they said he was an “extraordinary person,” and his travel accounts are likewise “extraordinary.” However, what exactly is “extraordinary” about Xu Xiake and his writings? And what is the significance of this attribute today?

The extensive and irrefutable written evidence documenting the vast extent of Xu’s travels led some modern literary historians to praise him with accolades such as “He was the first person in our country to devote his life to traveling” (Woguo lüxing wei bisheng shiye de diyiren).40 “First” in this context could also be considered “greatest,” meaning he traveled longer and farther throughout China than any other premodern person. Some historians have also proclaimed Xu as China’s “greatest” travel writer, but this verdict is problematic. We believe associating a superlative such as “the greatest,” in the sense of “most talented,” is too subjective for application to literary endeavors. Such coveted accolades can be defined in different ways, depending on the intentions of the person using them (“greatest” compared to whom or what?). On the other hand, one can contend that an author’s writing skills are qi or “extraordinary.” Convincing evidence can substantiate such a claim successfully in the case of Xu Xiake.

With some notable exceptions, most travel writers before Xu Xiake preferred to compose shorter accounts—on average, just a few hundred Chinese characters in length—about brief, one-day journeys to scenic or notable destinations, such as a famous mountain, celebrated monastery, or historic landmark or monument.41 Travel narration—that is, the compass directions followed during the journey, distances covered in li between itinerary stops, and so on—is usually limited. Xu’s predecessors often focused on juxtaposing landscape descriptions with emotional expressions, especially regarding the scene observed. The examples below demonstrate that while Xu Xiake’s travel diaries also mix landscape depiction with occasional personal commentary, this is just one aspect of his writing style. What immediately distinguishes Xu from earlier travel writers is the quantitative extent of his surviving diaries, which is “extraordinary” in the scope of his travels, the hardships he often endured, and the tremendous range in subject matter.

Since Xu was first and foremost a travel writer, it is no surprise that factual geographic description and empirical detail dominate many of his accounts, but there is much more. For instance, on numerous occasions, he provides remarkable literary descriptions of seventeenth-century China’s most pristine mountain and riparian scenery, written in a lively and engaging prose style that rivals, if not surpasses, that of his most distinguished predecessors. Xu also provides reports of his many adventures on the road, such as his harrowing encounter with river pirates on the Xiang River in 1637. That incident, recounted in great detail in the Chu (or Hunan) diary, almost cost him his life. Moreover, in the account following the unexpected death in Guangxi of his close friend, the Buddhist monk Tranquil Hearing, we witness high drama as Xu tells of his encounter with two unscrupulous monks who try to seize Tranquil Hearing’s personal belongings after the monk’s death.42 After much disagreeable negotiation, Xu finally manages to take custody of Tranquil Hearing’s cremated remains, which, following his traveling companion’s deathbed wish, he buries almost a year later on Mount Chicken Foot in Yunnan. The diaries also reveal the many dangers facing travelers in the late Ming, not only the physical risks of climbing lofty mountain peaks and exploring deep, subterranean caverns but also threats posed by hostile tribes and human traffickers in border regions such as Guangxi, Yunnan, and Guizhou. In yet another incident, Xu was robbed and abandoned by his servant. Along with these accounts, we learn much from Xu’s reports about the logistical challenges he faced during his travels, especially during his trip to southwest China from 1636 to 1640. For instance, on more than one occasion, he ran out of traveling money, so he had to secure loans from various “connections” he had through third parties or new friends he made while on the road. On another occasion, Xu was forced to sell some of his clothes to buy food. Xu provides detailed information on his itinerary, including distances between the places, the directions of his movements, various means of transportation, places where he spent the night and secured meals, weather challenges, and so on. This sort of information may sometimes seem tedious to the modern reader, but distance, direction, mode of travel, and related references are essential parts of Xu Xiake’s travel writing. His readers, especially those planning travel, wanted to know where he had been, where he was going, and what he saw along the way. This is precisely the reason he records everything he witnesses and experiences.

Xu Xiake’s prose style is eclectic in its use of different language registers, each designed to serve a purpose. No travel writer before or after him wrote in such a varied style. Understanding the function of his different language modes provides insight into what makes Xu and his travel writing “extraordinary.” The survey below outlines the three major types of language one finds in Xu Xiake’s oeuvre. These styles are not mutually exclusive. Xu constantly mixes them in an almost seamless fashion. With familiarity gained from close, patient reading, the discerning reader will spot them. This in turn will help the reader to understand how Xu Xiake manipulates language for effect and why his prose is worthy of admiration and close, critical attention.

LANGUAGE OF MOTION

An essential quality of Xu Xiake’s travel narration is his delineation of movement through landscape, as illustrated in the following passage from Xu’s account of a sightseeing trip in 1620 to Nine Carp Lake [Jiuli Hu] in southeastern Fujian. Notice the preponderance of verbs (italicized here), many of which are related to motion.

I only passed Blue Lake [Qinghu] in Jiangshan County today. Here, the mountains gradually begin to merge. Along the eastern spur stand numerous dangerous peaks and sheer barriers, while those in the west crouch down and stay low. When I turned my gaze to the far end of the eastern spur, south of it was a peak towering aloft that rubbed against the clouds and poked into the sky, poised as if it was about to take flight. Upon inquiry, I discovered this was Mount Jianglang [Jianglang Shan]. As I gazed at it, I pressed on for twenty li, passing Rock Gate Market [Shimen Jie]. Mount Jianglang suddenly split in two as I gradually hastened toward it and gradually drew closer. After I made a turn, it split into three sections. By then, the top of the mountain had forked into two halves, split straight down to the base. As I pressed toward the mountain, it became more pointed on top and restrained below, looking like it had broken in two and then reconnected. As I moved toward the mountain, with each step, its form changed, appearing just as illusory as the shapes of clouds!43

In this excerpt, Xu Xiake is never stationary; he is always moving. His perspective changes as he “presses on” toward the mountain. It “splits,” then “forks”; its summit then appears “more pointed,” while the landscape below it is “restrained.” Xu Xiake moves through the scene as he describes it. Nothing about his perspective is static. With each step, his view changes. Xu Xiake is a master of this writing style.

In the following example, Xu mixes movement with highly descriptive literary language, while his emotional reaction to the scene he just witnessed, described in the last line, reveals the sometimes highly personal and lyrical tone that serves as a coda to his landscape descriptions:

Proceeded another fifteen li to High Rapids Post Station [Gaotan Pu], where the dark haze had completely scattered, where blue sky seemed to wash everything clean, where brilliant sunshine was dazzling and radiant, and where piled snow on the massed peaks seemed to be wearing jade bracelets. For it to snow in Min is extraordinary. For it to snow in late spring is especially extraordinary. Villagers and old ladies at the market basked in the sun while holding incense burners.44 But for me, to jump and frolic about in my bare feet was positively fantastic!45

LANGUAGE OF GEOGRAPHICAL INVESTIGATION

The purpose of geographical-investigative travel writing is to verify and correct errors in textual sources concerning geographical sites and waterways when appropriate. Although this variety of travel descriptions can be traced back to the Song dynasty, they reached fluorescence in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Wang Shixing (1547–98) and Xu Xiake are the two best-known practitioners of this writing style.46 Like many of their contemporaries, both men were especially interested in geographical precision and exegesis. This concern for verification was in large part stimulated by numerous inaccurate geographical accounts found in the so-called orthodox works of geography, ranging from the authoritative “Tribute of Yu” (Yugong) chapter in the Documents Canon (Shujing), probably dating from the Qin or early Han periods to the massive Unified and Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming (Da Ming yitong zhi), a geographic survey of the Ming empire published in 1461. During his travels, Xu Xiake carried a copy of the latter (or parts of it) in a trunk and usually consulted it before traveling to a particular site. On numerous occasions in his diaries, Xu points out the disparities between what he observed while traveling and the accounts he read in the Unified and Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming, many of which, he points out, had been copied from earlier geographical works without verification.

Xu Xiake’s geographical-investigative writings fall into one of two broad categories: the first, written in an essay (not diary) format, concerns scrutiny of specific, unresolved questions related to geography and potamology (the scientific study of rivers). The second category mainly concerns investigations made in southwest China of karst topography (yanrong). As for the first category, one of the most critical “unresolved” geographical questions for Xu was the Changjiang’s source. Throughout most of Chinese history, the headwaters of China’s longest river were thought to be in the Min Mountains [Minshan] of Sichuan. The legitimacy of this claim is based on a single line of four Chinese characters in the “Tribute of Yu” text. Xu challenges and then disproves this claim in his essay Tracing the Jiang Upstream to Unravel Its Source (Sujiang jiyuan). In that document, he correctly identifies the Gold Dust River [Jinsha Jiang] as the headwaters of the Changjiang. A translation of that essay is included in the appendices.47 In his writings concerning unsettled geographical questions, Xu Xiake’s proto-scientific approach is based on knowledge gained from close reading and comparison of textual sources such as geographies and gazetteers, information gathered from local scholars, guides, and informants, and, whenever possible, first-hand observation.

Geographical-investigative questions raised in Xu’s travel diaries are presented within the general framework of travel narration. Modern Chinese and Western language sources uniformly praise his detailed comments and descriptions of limestone or karst topography in southwest China. An excellent example of this type of writing appears in the following passage, which describes his first exploration of Seven Stars Cavern [Qixing Dong] in Guilin [Guangxi]. During his visit to Guilin in 1637, Xu documented visits to more than one hundred karst caverns. One of his purposes for traveling to southwest China was to study the karst landscape’s geomorphologic and underground features. Here is a portion of that account:

The entrance to the cavern was hidden in the shadow cast by a Buddhist hermitage. Suddenly, the cavern’s passageway turned and headed northwest, where it opened broadly. Above, it is open like a dome; below, it is flat. Numerous aligned rocky bamboo shoots hang down like suspended columns, chilly and cool, dripping and leaking. This is the upper cavern, which forms part of Seven Stars Cliff [Qixing Yan]. We descended some steps from the right and entered the lower section. This forms Nestled against Sunglow Clouds Cavern [Qixia Dong]. It is grand and luminous, bold and spacious. Its entrance also faces northwest. Looking out into the distance, the view is expansive and majestic. There is a crack stretching across the ceiling of the cavern. The carp-shaped rock up there seems like it is about to leap down through the crack. Covered in scales from head to tail, even if someone had carved a rock to fashion such a carp, it could not be more lifelike. Next to it are intertwined carriage canopy pennants in the shape of coiling dragons, penta-colored and glistening. To the northwest, a tiered terrace rises high. I ascended the terrace along stone steps. This area forms Lord Lao’s Terrace [Laojun Tai]. From the terrace, I headed north, where the cavern seemed to divide into two realms. The higher terrace proceeds west and then turns east, following the interior of a deep cavity. I proceeded along the terrace, passed an entranceway, and went straight north until I reached a dark area. Above is a boundless dome. Below is a sunken depression where a pool has formed. The boundless space here becomes precipitous and ruptured. Terrain that was flat before now suddenly turned treacherous.48

Nowhere in earlier Chinese travel writing do we find this degree of precise topographical detail. According to one modern scholar, Xu Xiake was the first to conduct a “real scientific exploration of karst and karst caves in south China.” This same writer notes that Xu “also made ground plans of some caves, marked their entrances and described different shapes of speleothems” and was the first to discuss “different ways of climbing in caves and methods for cave research.”49 It is no wonder that Xu Xiake is regarded as the father of modern speleology and karstology in China and worldwide.50

THE LANGUAGE OF LANDSCAPE

Although modern scholars, especially in China, have devoted much attention to Xu Xiake’s “geographical investigations” (dili kaocha) and the “scientific value” (kexue jiazhi) of his observations, he is still best known for his vivid and lively descriptions of landscape, especially those accounts in his diaries that chronicle trips to famous mountains. To many readers, these are his most memorable writings. Here is an example concerning a river known as Rocky Roar [Shicong], a scenic waterway that originates on the slopes of Mount Song in Henan:

Rocky Roar’s movement is jarring and jerky, twisting and turning, always moving on lower ground. When it reaches here, it suddenly meets ferocious rocks. The rocks stand between a lofty knoll and a mountain gorge, poised as if guarding a mountain pass or holding a strategic position. The water seeps down to the lower side of the mountain, where water and rocks meld and mix and seem like patterned silk in countless different forms. The two cliff walls surrounded by water seemingly form into standing swans, form into geese walking in file; rocks perched in the center of the stream seem to form into rhinoceroses drinking water, form into tigers taking their repose. The rocks down low are like islets; those up high are flat like terraces. The higher you go, the farther the rocks are from the water. And so, those rocks even higher in the sky form cavities and form caves. I figured the distance of the rocks from the cliff to be eight feet; the distance of those up past the water to be several rods. The water moves between the rocks where they rise above the water, forming gestures, forming hues, forming skin, and forming bones, in every way stunning and beautiful. I never thought trudging through yellow grass and white reeds could take me to a place that would thoroughly wash my dusty eyes!51

While passages like this are often cited and praised by literary historians, rarely if ever are readers informed—beyond vague phrases such as “such extraordinary writing!” (qi wenzi 奇文字)—about what specific language qualities make passages like this “extraordinary,” or even “great.”52 To understand Xu Xiake’s skill as a wordsmith, one must first be reminded that Xu’s diaries are written without accompanying illustrations or maps. They are designed to be read, but their visual quality is essential to China’s best travel writing. This quality is exemplified well in the Rocky Roar passage just cited. When Xu describes unusual or extraordinary scenes along Rocky Roar, he aims to create a graphic word picture to help readers imagine what it looks like. He does so by skillfully deploying language for visual effect. Immediately evident in the passage just cited is his heavy reliance on simile (“as if,” “like,” “seem to form into,” and so on). The unusual rock formations along Rocky Roar are thus seemingly rendered into “pictures” through a series of similes that—in this case—deftly liken their shapes to different birds and animals: “The two cliff walls surrounded by the river’s waters seem to form into standing swans, form into geese walking in file; rocks perched in the center of the stream seem to form into rhinoceroses drinking water, form into tigers taking their repose.” Descriptions like this are not common in Chinese travel writing; nor is it commonplace to describe water streaming through rocks as “forming gestures, forming hues, forming skin, and forming bones.” Xu Xiake was enamored by the scenes he witnessed along Rocky Roar, but only a highly skilled wordsmith with a powerful imagination could weave word pictures like this. The creative use of simile is the foundation of his ingenious use of language.

In his depictions of landscape, Xu Xiake also favors the use of grammatically parallel quartets of Chinese characters, such as “water and rocks meld and mix” (noun-noun verb-verb) and “patterned silk in countless different forms” (adjective-noun adjective-noun). These balanced language constructions, standard in Chinese travel writing, help provide form and unity in the scene description. They also offer an economical means to delineate the landscape. In the hands of a skillful travel writer, they can help create breathtaking word pictures, such as this one, also culled from Xu’s Mount Lu diary (the two quartets in this passage are italicized for emphasis). When read aloud in sequence, the cadence of the quartets sounds almost like poetry: “Below the peaks were sprinkles of snow-like foam and grumbles of thunder, soaring into the sky as they quaked and trembled. This scene made my eyes and ears wild with delight.”53 Moreover, in the Rocky Roar passage, note the preponderance of movement. However, the subject of the motion is not Xu Xiake in this case; it is the flow of Rocky Roar and its current’s crashing encounter with “ferocious rocks.” As seen here, Xu Xiake often does not “enter the picture” with a comment or reaction until his description is complete. As far as I know, no earlier prose travel writer in China ever remarked how a landscape made his eyes and ears “wild with delight.”

Xu Xiake rarely shares intimate thoughts about himself or his worldview. However, while writing from a mountain height in his Zhejiang diary, Xu reveals some highly personal thoughts that distinguish him from those in “the toiling world below.” The idea of being “cleansed” or “washed clean” by a pristine mountain environment, encountered earlier in the Rocky Roar selection, reappears and seems to suggest that Xu Xiake experienced some ritual of purification:

As we reached the summit of North Mountain [Beishan], the sun was sinking in the sky. However, I saw a stretch of water shimmering in the far distance; I took it to be a bend in the Qu River [Qujiang], which lies in that direction. As the sun disappeared, the moon rose, projecting light in its place. All was silent, and the world was washed clean, as though a jade pitcher had indeed bathed our bones, and it felt as though our shapes and shadows had assumed a different guise. I thought back to the toiling world below and asked myself, “Who down there could ever experience such a pristine setting?” One can climb to an upper chamber and whistle at leisure, imbibing wine by the riverside, but there is still a world of difference between that and us scaling alone the very pinnacle of the countless mountains, beyond all roads and paths and far from the realm of dust. Even if mountain goblins and strange beasts were to gang up and harass us here, there would be no cause for alarm, and how much less there is to worry about when they keep silent and do not stir as we roam freely in the empyrean!54

Xu Xiake deserves to be ranked among China’s most accomplished travel writers. Even from the handful of selections presented here, it is evident that his descriptions of place are deftly wrought and create striking word pictures that can—with a bit of imagination—help readers vicariously accompany him on his journey and experience what he observed in the physical world during periods of movement. His diaries provide a window through which even the modern reader can observe and experience the joys and highs and the trials and challenges Xu Xiake faced while traveling around China in the seventeenth century. There is undoubtedly a “self” revealed in his accounts, and as we have seen, he sometimes expresses intense emotion. Still, it is almost always voiced as a reaction to visual stimuli, especially remote and extraordinary landscapes. Unlike the Tang dynasty travel writer Liu Zongyuan (773–819) and some of Xu’s Ming dynasty contemporaries, such as Zhang Dai, Xu Xiake rarely if ever uses descriptions of scenes to voice personal inner concerns or conflicts. Xu says very little about personal matters, with some notable exceptions, such as his filial responsibilities to his mother in her old age. He also steadfastly avoids mentioning contemporary political issues (of which he was aware) and abstract philosophical arguments. However, on several occasions in the diaries, he expresses an interest in Buddhism and sometimes even turns to divination when faced with a difficult decision. Xu was not the “patron saint of tourism” or “China’s first backpacker,” as some modern writers have described him. He was driven by an intense devotion to visiting places he knew

from books and to describing them in ways that would help readers “see” and “experience” them as he did. And in doing so, he generated new knowledge about China’s geography. His lifelong devotion to this charge was complete and genuine.

—James M. Hargett

TRAVEL IN LATE-MING CHINA

Xu Xiake’s diaries are often celebrated for their detailed descriptions of mountains, caves, and other features of China’s physical environment, but they are equally interesting for the light they shed on the practical details of travel in late-Ming China, particularly in remote parts of the empire.55

FUNDING

Although Xu Xiake came from a well-established landowning lineage, neither he nor his immediate forebears had a conventionally successful career, and the family fortunes were in decline when he embarked on his celebrated travels. The shorter tours of more accessible sites in his younger years would not have imposed too much of a financial burden. During the time of his ambitious four-year expedition to southwest China, injections of funds from friends and supporters periodically boosted his travel budget, but daily expenses—and occasional thefts—depleted his savings, and more than once, he completely ran out of money.

Xu set off for the southwest in October 1636 with limited cash in hand, and at his first few stops, he picked up loans, gifts, and letters of introduction that might help secure further monetary or practical support at subsequent destinations. During his brief stays in Wuxi and Suzhou, he gathered letters from friends and relatives designed to establish links with officials serving in Guangxi. He planned to spend a good deal of time in Guangxi, and in Songjiang he collected a letter from the celebrated literatus Chen Jiru to two monks at Mount Chicken Foot in Yunnan, who would serve as Xu’s hosts when he arrived there. Chen Jiru also sent letters to other contacts of his, the powerful native official Mu Zeng in Lijiang and the gregarious Tang Dalai (1593–1673) in Kunming, both of whom would later take pains to see that Xu was well looked after during his stay in Yunnan.

In parts of Guangxi, Xu Xiake benefited significantly from the support of regional commanders (canrong), who exercised a good deal of discretionary authority over transport resources in their jurisdictions. In Taiping Prefecture, through the good offices of a well-connected licentiate, Teng Zuochang, Xu gained access to a regional commander who expedited his travel as he headed west through areas administered by native chiefs. Teng also wrote letters of introduction to provincial officials of his acquaintance, further smoothing Xu’s passage. On arrival in Xiangwu, Xu received a warm reception from the local administrator, Huang Shaolun, who showered him with gifts and offered to write letters of introduction to native officials still farther west. Later, learning that the regional commander of Sanli was a native of Zhenjiang, not far from Xu’s hometown, Xu paid him a courtesy call. Their shared bond as fellow easterners would soon pave the way for Xu’s comfortable and lengthy sojourn as the commander’s honored guest and for continued logistical support as he made his way north toward Guizhou.

SUPPORT PERSONNEL

Reading Xu’s diary entries, one might come away with the impression that he usually traveled alone, but this was seldom the case. To be sure, from time to time he would embark on a solo excursion, but this tended to be not his preferred choice so much as a necessity forced on him by circumstances. Friends or family members often joined him on his early visits to famous mountains in China, and when he set off on his journey to the southwest in October 1636, he had no fewer than three helpers.

Of this trio, a retainer, referred to simply as Wang the Second, soon decided that the job was not for him and left without so much as a by-your-leave. Xu’s other two companions lasted a good deal longer, but the rigors of the journey ultimately became too much for them, too.

The monk Tranquil Hearing, the most cultivated of the three, was a disciple of the monk Lotus Boat (Lianzhou) of the Welcoming Good Fortune Monastery [Yingfu Si] in Jiangyin. Lotus Boat, a friend of Xu Xiake’s, had accompanied him on his trip to Mount Tiantai in 1613; now, his protégé would partner with Xu Xiake on his expedition to the southwest. Tranquil Hearing, a devout Buddhist who had written out the text of the Lotus Sutra (Chinese: Fahua jing) with his blood, was eager to make a pilgrimage to Mount Chicken Foot, and he cheerfully assisted Xu during the Zhejiang and Jiangxi portions of their itinerary. However, after suffering a stab wound in the brutal attack by bandits near Hengzhou in Hunan, he seems never to have regained full fitness. Although his interests overlapped with Xu’s, Tranquil Hearing did not fully share Xu’s passion for exploration. Over time, the divergence between the two men’s priorities grew more apparent. Xu was exasperated, for example, that Tranquil Hearing felt no sense of urgency about moving on from Hengzhou, where he relished the ready access to sutra readings, and in Guilin, he broke away from Xu’s extended tour of the sights, preferring to relax and watch an opera performance instead. Tranquil Hearing fell ill in Guilin on 29 July 1637, perhaps partly as a result of strain and exhaustion amid the enervating heat of a Guangxi summer, and his health steadily declined over the next couple of months, culminating in his death in Nanning on 10 November.

Xu’s third companion, the servant Gu Xing, appears to have been a younger man. He too was wounded in the bandit raid and at times suffered bouts of illness. Still, he always seemed to make a good recovery, and before long, he could resume his busy array of duties, including shopping, cooking, doing laundry, and running all kinds of errands. Xu depended heavily on Gu Xing, but as one year of arduous travel became two, and two became three, Gu Xing must have wearied of the constant demands made on him and hankered for home; he absconded in Yunnan on 5 October 1639, leaving Xu Xiake stunned at his abandonment.

Porters (danfu) were vital to Xu’s mission because he was so heavily laden; his baggage included food supplies, cooking equipment, eating utensils, tea set, bedding, clothes, medicines, an extensive collection of books and writings and rubbings, umbrellas and other accessories, and souvenirs such as rocks, jades, and semi-precious stones. Finding and keeping porters was a never-ending challenge, for they had many objections to the job they were being asked to do—the pay was too meager, the sun was too hot, the road was too muddy, the route was too long or too dangerous, the luggage was too heavy, the hour was too late.

Porterage was a sideline activity. Men were usually unwilling to venture far from their homes and regular jobs, and they often flat-out refused to go beyond a certain distance; on one occasion, Xu’s porters dumped the baggage in the open when they felt they had gone far enough and then ran away.56 Travel by road typically required frequent changes of porters, sometimes as many as five or six times in a single day, with the inevitable delays that this entailed. In a best-case scenario, Xu Xiake might have as many as half a dozen porters, but often, he had to make do with just two. Once or twice, he had to carry some of the baggage himself.

At times, Xu also used sedan-chair carriers (yufu), mainly when travel tallies issued by sympathetic officials in Guangxi authorized the use of a sedan chair. In northern Guangxi, for example, he used two men as porters and two to carry his sedan chair. Sometimes, he resorted to using women or boys in the absence of adult male carriers.57

Now and again, Xu Xiake would hire for a period of a few days or weeks an attendant (suifu) to do odd jobs. As with porters and sedan-chair carriers, he usually did not identify such men by name, but we learn more about one such person, a certain Wang Gui, a native of Jingzhou in west Hunan. Xu Xiake first encountered Wang Gui in bandit-ridden northern Guangxi. There, Wang and his companions, observing that Xu was protected by a military escort, requested, for their safety, to join his entourage on the next leg of his journey. Xu agreed, but in the following days, he grew suspicious of the men’s motives. At the same time, he was reassured by their helpfulness in carrying torches and ropes as he explored caves in the area. In his diary, Xu writes:

After that, Wang Gui waited on me daily, expressing a wish to accompany me to Yunnan. My thinking was this: on the journey to Guangxi’s border with Guizhou, I would have porters to accompany me, but once I entered Guizhou, I would likely have nobody to carry things, so I wanted to recruit one of the men. I made a deal with Wang Gui: “Here, I do not have any job for you to do, but since you are with me, I will give you one-hundredth of an ounce of silver each day. If you need to carry luggage, I will raise the daily wage to three and a half hundredths.”58

Wang Gui accompanied Xu as far as Guizhou. Still, he slipped away one morning after helping himself to several taels of silver that Xu had stashed away in salt canisters, never imagining that this hiding place would be discovered.

FORMS OF TRANSPORT

During significant portions of his travels, Xu Xiake had access to navigable rivers, where traveling by boat (zhou) was the most convenient and comfortable option: room could be found on a boat for him and his companions, as well as their baggage. Occasionally, when exploring cave systems through which an underground river ran, he would use a bamboo raft (fa), custom-built for this purpose. When traveling through hilly terrain where boat travel was not an option, Xu Xiake sometimes rode a horse (ma, qi) or, in parts of Yunnan, joined a train of packhorses (tuoqi) led by a driver.

When exploring mountain areas, Xu typically traveled by foot (buxing); from time to time, if support from local officials made a sedan chair (jianyu) available to him (as in parts of Guangxi), he took full advantage of that option. According to reports, when he left Yunnan for home in 1640, he was in such poor health that he had to be carried in a sedan chair to Wuchang, an arduous journey that took the best part of five months.

ACCOMMODATIONS

Xu Xiake lodged in a wide variety of places. The boats he traveled on usually offered a sleeping berth. When visiting cities or towns, he could stay in an inn (dian, lüshe, nilü, lüyu) or, if invited, at an official residence (guanshe). When traveling in the countryside, he often found accommodation in commoners’ homes (minshe). Sometimes, he was invited, as in Guangxi, when a woman with paternal ties to Nanjing overheard Xu speaking in a familiar Jiangsu accent and promptly offered him a bed for the night.59 However, in wilder areas, where security was poor, residents might close their doors to him, and he would have to force his way into a house if he wanted to have a roof over his head.60

Elsewhere he found accommodations at relay stations (yi), post stations (pu), Buddhist monasteries (si), Daoist abbeys (guan), Buddhist retreats (an), shrines (ci), roadside pavilions (luting), and army quarters (yingfang). Caves (yan) and caverns (dong) often provided shelter from the elements. On rare occasions, when neither manmade nor natural cover was available, Xu slept out in the open (lusu).

MEALS

From time to time, Xu Xiake enjoyed banquets hosted by local officials—in some cases, very lavish affairs—and when staying in monasteries, he could usually count on being treated to a wholesome vegetarian meal. During his travels in Guangxi, sponsorship by officials also enabled him to dine for free at post stations. In such places, Xu often seems to have found the food quite palatable, noting with apparent satisfaction that he was offered rice and boiled eggs, chicken, and fish. Still, sometimes he balked at the local specialties, on one occasion rejecting the squirrel he was offered in favor of a substitute dish, a quail-like bird.61

Xu Xiake enjoyed occasional lunches at noodle shops in bustling towns like Jinhua and Guilin. In the countryside, however, restaurants were thin on the ground. In parts of Yunnan, they were scarce: a village boasting a simple roadside eatery was somewhat unusual, resulting in local place-names such as Restaurant Village [Fandian Cun].62 For much of the time, Xu could not count on eating in a commercial establishment, and given his tight budget, he might not have wanted to.

Xu Xiake sometimes carried flatbreads that sufficed as a midday snack but preferred a hot meal if possible. At overnight stops in the countryside, he would commonly request temporary use of the host’s kitchen stove, for which he might offer some nominal “fire money” (huoqian) and have his servant prepare dinner with the supplies carried with them. When he had no money to buy groceries, he would sometimes turn to barter; finding himself out of rice and vegetables in Hunan, he swapped a length of silk fabric for four tubes of rice; on arrival in Guizhou, where salt was in short supply, he was able to exchange salt for rice.63 Xu would also forage for bamboo shoots, mushrooms, and other wild foods. In his Guangxi diary, he writes: “Our guide harvested bamboo shoots in the forest, while Tranquil Hearing picked several bamboo mushrooms and a jade fungus in attractive shades of yellow and white; I also picked several fungi. We went back down the mountain the same way we had come, and it was dusk when we reached the Liu residence. We had boiled mushrooms and stewed bamboo shoots for dinner that night.”64 Wherever he went, Xu would sample local produce that caught his eye; in his diary, he mentions a wide range of fruits, including melons, bananas, pears, persimmons, tangerines, and pomelos.

ORIENTATION AND GUIDANCE

Xu Xiake drew on various sources for information and advice about travel routes and destinations. For preliminary orientation, he regularly studied printed reference works, particularly the Unified and Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming, a voluminous work with ninety chapters. It is possible that Xu took with him only the sections about the provinces he planned to visit. He supplemented this general reference by consulting more detailed and up-to-date local gazetteers whenever possible and purchasing recent books about the places that interested him. In Guilin, for example, he made a point of buying a collection of miscellaneous notes compiled by the Ming scholar-official Wei Jun (jinshi 1604) when stationed in Guangxi and a similar volume written by Xie Zhaozhe (1567–1624), who held office there in his final years. Such books furnished a level of detail about regional culture and local points of interest that he would not have found in the Unified and Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming.

Xu Xiake also relied heavily on oral informants for advice and directions. These individuals included Buddhist monks and Daoist priests who often had lived for years in the remote, mountainous areas that Xu was keen to explore and a wide variety of residents—innkeepers, shopkeepers, woodcutters, farmers, laborers, peddlers, and so on. He often recruited locals—or they would volunteer—to guide him through difficult terrain to remote but noteworthy sights.

A third source of guidance for Xu Xiake was divination (qiuqian), to which he turned in moments of acute distress and uncertainty to resolve his doubts about what course of action to follow. This practice is seldom in evidence in the early, relatively uneventful stages of his travels to the southwest, but soon after the Hunan robbery, a major setback, for the first time, Xu sought divine guidance on the best route to Yunnan. This was suggested by the brother of a man killed by the robbers, who had located the victim’s body only after consulting an oracle. From November 1637 onward, as he worked his way through the unfamiliar territory of southwestern Guangxi, Xu Xiake, eager to proceed directly to Yunnan but hearing grim reports of dangers ahead, repeatedly turned to higher powers for advice. At their prompting, he abandoned the risky westward path in favor of a safer route north through Guizhou. On his return to Nanning, he again drew lots in front of an image of Buddha, this time to ensure he was doing the right thing in exhuming Tranquil Hearing’s remains and carrying his ashes to Yunnan.65

LANGUAGE ISSUES

Despite the various dialects and accents that Xu Xiake would have encountered as he ventured far from home, he could usually communicate adequately. However, in remote border areas, he sometimes ran into difficulties. In a rural hamlet on the way to Xiangwu in southwest Guangxi, Xu found that his nonagenarian host was the sole Chinese speaker in the area. “I could not understand what the other villagers said,” Xu notes. “The old man was the only person who could speak the Han language.”66 A misunderstanding that developed soon after, in Xiangwu itself, may well have stemmed from language differences: when Xu told the porters to get ready to set off, they took him to mean they were free to leave. They promptly disappeared into the hills to hunt for firewood, so his departure was postponed until the following day.67

Later, in the eastern highlands of Yunnan, then inhabited mainly by people of the Yi ethnicity, Xu’s attempts at communication got him nowhere: “The men had all gone out, and the women were coarse and could not understand what I was saying. When I asked to borrow cooking implements, none of them made any response.”68 Near the Burmese border, he likewise found an unbridgeable language gap between himself and the villagers.69

—Allan H. Barr

PREVIOUS TRANSLATIONS

Two complete translations of Xu Xiake’s diaries have been published, one in Korean (Seoul, 2011; seven volumes) translated by Kim Un-hŭi and Yi Chu-no, and the other in Italian (Hangzhou, 2019; two volumes), produced by a team of scholars led by Giorgio Casacchia.70 Both are bilingual editions. Two abridged English translations have been published in China: Wang Rongpei et al., trans., The Travels of Xu Xiake (Shanghai, 2011), and Li Weirong et al., trans., Xu Xiake youji (Han-Ying duizhao) (Changsha, 2016). Although both collections are bilingual editions, they are designed for Chinese readers. Notes on place-names and special terms, along with discussions of possible alternate English translations, are written in modern Chinese. As for other translations available to readers of English, aside from diary passages included in literary anthologies, book chapters, and journal articles, only one book-length, abridged translation has appeared in print: Li Chi’s (Li Qi, 1902–89) The Travel Diaries of Hsü Hsia-k’o (Hong Kong, 1974). While Professor Li is to be commended for introducing China’s most outstanding travel writer to English readers, the scope of her translation is limited to Xu Xiake’s mountain diaries, which Li Chi contends are “the most important” among Xu Xiake’s surviving travel accounts.71 The result of this choice, however, is that English readers were not introduced to the engaging literary accounts and fascinating scientific observations made during the final sightseeing trip of Xu Xiake’s life, which lasted from 1636 to 1640 and took him to the remote border regions of the Ming empire in what is now Guangxi, Guizhou, and Yunnan. A second concern is that Li Chi’s translation, completed in the 1950s but not published until 1974, is based on Ding Wenjiang’s 1928 edition of The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake, which, as mentioned earlier, has now been replaced by the expanded, modern editions compiled by Zhu Huirong (rev. ed. 2017), and Chu Shaotang and Wu Yingshou (rev. ed. 2007). Thus, the Li Chi translation cannot be regarded as competing with or comparable to this rendition, which presents selections from the earlier and later periods of Xu’s travels.

OUR TRANSLATION PRIORITIES AND PRACTICES

The purpose of this volume is two-fold. First and foremost, we seek to provide an English translation that represents the broad and varied content in Xu Xiake’s travel diaries. The mountain diaries have attracted the most attention from scholars and translators, and for good reason: Xu’s accounts of his trips to Mount Tiantai, Mount Yandang, Mount Huang (or Yellow Mountain), Mount Lu, and several other notable peaks are chock full of fascinating and, in places, highly literate and emotionally moving “word pictures” of China’s most renowned scenic environments. All of Xu’s mountain diaries are translated in part 1 of this book. Until now, a rich, broad assortment of additional material, most of which dates from Xu Xiake’s trip to the southwest in the late 1630s, has not been available in English translation. Examples of this include Xu’s account of a bloody encounter with murderous river pirates in Hunan, his spelunking expeditions deep into limestone karst caverns in Guangxi, and his observations of, and interactions with, various indigenous border peoples in Yunnan, a remote and sometimes dangerous area that few Chinese travel writers dared to visit during the Ming. Representative selections of this material appear in part 2 of this book. The appendices include material that has never before been translated into English, including Xu’s sequence of landscape poems on Mount Chicken Foot in Yunnan; his critical essay on the origin of the Changjiang; a translation of Chen Hanhui’s commemorative tomb biography of Xu Xiake (the most valuable primary source on his life and travels); a second biography written by the noted late Ming scholar-official Qian Qianyi; a set of verses mourning the death of his close friend, the Buddhist monk Tranquil Hearing; and Pan Lei’s insightful preface to an early hand-copied version of The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake.

Second, we have made every effort to produce an English version of the diaries faithful to the original Chinese text and a rendition that approximates in English—as much as possible—Xu Xiake’s narrative prose style. At the same time, we have endeavored to generate a translation that can be read and enjoyed by general readers and students, including scholars in North America and Europe who study travel writing but do not read Chinese. We hope that China specialists can also benefit from our translations, which provide a rare window through which the modern reader can view, and perhaps even vicariously experience, the challenges and difficulties of traveling around China in the late Ming.

Producing translations always presents difficulties of one sort or another. In preparing this volume, one challenge we have had to face is this: Xu Xiake never explains precisely what he sought to capture in his landscape descriptions, but on at least two occasions in the diaries, he mentions that genuinely outstanding scenery requires recognition of its quality or essence, which he calls “spirit and texture” (shenli), and which the travel writer seeks to “capture” (de) in his prose.72 Julian Ward has argued persuasively that in using this term, Xu Xiake sought to describe “both the physical state of the landscape and its metaphysical attractions.”73 We have tried to convey this ideal in our translations.

In our joint effort, we have held as our model the practice of the prominent translator of Chinese and Japanese literature Arthur Waley (1889–1966), as articulated in his A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems: “I have aimed at literal translation, not paraphrase.… Above all, considering imagery to be the soul of poetry, I have avoided either adding images of my own or suppressing those of the original.”74 Although Waley here refers to his approach to translating poetry into English, we have made every effort to follow his wise counsel in our translation of Xu Xiake’s prose, the essence of which lies in the language and imagery he uses to narrate travel and movement through space, and in the word pictures he often paints to delineate landscape. Our approach to translation, then, is to not leave out elements and images that appear in the diaries’ original Chinese text and to avoid inserting extraneous elements or images. At the same time, we are acutely aware that when a body of material is worked on by multiple translators, all of whom were trained by different mentors at different institutions and who, throughout their experiences and careers, have developed an approach to the explication of classical Chinese texts and translating them into English, it is inevitable that differences in diction, idiom, and English sentence structure will arise in the translations. The primary responsibility for establishing and preserving a consistent voice throughout the translation thus falls on the volume editor. Although every effort has been made to maintain a consistent prose style in the translations, the discerning reader may detect some (we hope subtle) differences in Xu Xiake’s voice from diary to diary.

To assist the reader in following Xu Xiake’s travel itinerary and gaining additional knowledge and context about the content of diary entries in places they deem appropriate, the translators have inserted brief, explanatory commentary into the main body of the translation. These comments and explanations are typographically distinguished by indentation and smaller type. We realize that this practice briefly interrupts the flow of Xu’s travel narration, but at the same time, it is designed to help readers better understand the background and content of his descriptions.

As mentioned earlier, there are two modern editions of Xu Xiake’s travel diaries: Zhu Huirong’s Xu Xiake youji jiaozhu and Chu Shaotang and Wu Yingshou’s Xu Xiake youji. The editors of these collections have culled lines and passages from various earlier editions and the “lost” diary entries discovered in Beijing in the 1970s and have skillfully and painstakingly woven these recovered lines and passages into their new, modern editions, making the text of the diaries more complete than any previous version. Although recovered lines and passages are either placed in brackets or printed in smaller Chinese characters in these modern editions, we have not highlighted them in any way in our translations. Less clutter and fewer distractions in the translations make them more readable. At the same time, we sought to limit footnote content to information only necessary to clarify technical issues in the original Chinese text or to help the reader better understand the original text and our English translation.

—James M. Hargett

____________________

  1. 1  Scholars disagree on the total number of sightseeing trips undertaken by Xu Xiake. Here I follow Wu Qiulong, “Xu Xiake chuyou kaoshu,” 26–31, who convincingly documents twenty-six journeys.

  2. 2  YJJZ, 1:4. Chu Shaotang and Wu Yingshou give the same figure. See YJ, 1:5.

  3. 3  Zhang Dai 張岱 (ca. 1597–ca. 1679), Collected Works from the Langhuan Library (Langhuan wenji 琅嬛文集) (Beijing: Gugong Chubanshe, 2012), 2.66.

  4. 4  Xu Xiake muzhiming, in YJJZ, 2:1432; YJ, 2:1283. Chen Hanhui’s account and the biographies of Wu Guohua (jinshi 1616) and Qian Qianyi (1582–1664) constitute the three primary contemporary sources of Xu Xiake’s life. The biographies by Wu Guohua and Qian Qianyi are found in YJJZ, 2:1430–31 and YJ, 2:1181–82; and YJJZ, 2:1439–41 and YJ, 2:1191–95, respectively. Translations of the Chen and Qian biographies and a short gazetteer biography are included in appendices 2, 3, and 4. Among sources written in modern Chinese, the most useful is Ding Wenjiang’s NP1, which is appended to volume 2 of YJ (following 2:1304 in separate pagination); and Chu Shaotang’s NP2, which appears in Zheng Zu’an and Jiang Minghong, eds., Xu Xiake yu shanshui wenhua, 520–88. The best sources in English on Xu Xiake’s life are both written by Julian Ward: Xu Xiake (1587–1641): The Art of Travel Writing, esp. 38–61; and his entry on “Xu Xiake” in the Berkshire Dictionary of Chinese Biography, 2:1042–54. The brief history of Xu Xiake’s family genealogy that follows is mainly based on chapter 2 in Zhu and Ni, eds., Xuxue gailun: Xu Xiake ji qi Youji yanjiu, 54–60, and Zheng and Jiang, eds., Xu Xiake yu shanshui wenhua, 5–20. Both accounts are written by Wu Qiulong.

  5. 5  “One Thousand and Eleven” was the oldest son of Xu Shoucheng, a local official in Wu County, Jiangsu, during the Qingyuan reign (1195–1201) of the Southern Song dynasty. One Thousand and Eleven’s name was Xu Bo. Why he adopted the unusual moniker One Thousand and Eleven is uncertain, but the name may have been devised to preserve his anonymity and thereby avoid government service to the alien Mongol government. Xu Bo’s second son, Xu Tan, was known as Qianshisi, or One Thousand and Fourteen.

  6. 6  During the Ming, the area of Jiangnan comprised Jiangsu and Anhui. Wilkinson, Chinese History, 244.

  7. 7  DMB, 1:1256–59.

  8. 8  Chu-Tsing Li (Li Zhujin 李鑄晉, 1920–2014), “T’ang Yin,” in DMB, 2:1256–59.

  9. 9  Xu Yanfang also failed to pass the civil service examination.

  10. 10  Decline in the family’s land holdings was probably due to its parsing over multiple generations of male descendants. The precise decline in acreage is unknown.

  11. 11  YJJZ, 2:1486; YJ, 2:1245.

  12. 12  Dong Qichang’s biography of Xu Youmian is included in YJJZ, 2:1486–88, and YJ, 2:1244–46, respectively. On Dong’s comment about Xu Youmian’s avoidance of visiting government officials, see YJJZ, 2:1486; and YJ, 2:1445.

  13. 13  The biographies of Xu Xiake, written by Chen Hanhui and Qian Qianyi, do not mention whether Xu ever took the civil service examinations. Wu Guohua’s biography, however, does include a terse statement on this matter, saying: “When he was young, he took the examinations and failed to pass.” YJJZ, 2:1430; YJ, 2:1181. Chu Shaotang says Xu took and failed the exams in 1602. See NP2, 524. No primary source corroborates either of these claims, but Wu Guohua was Xu Xiake’s brother-in-law, so he would certainly have known about the matter.

  14. 14  Huang Daozhou was also a staunch Ming loyalist. Later, he was captured while fighting against Manchu forces and executed.

  15. 15  YJJZ, 2:1432; YJ, 2:1184. I use Julian Ward’s translation of this passage in appendix 2.

  16. 16  The phrase “a residence of five acres” (wumu zhi zhai 五畝之齋) is drawn from Mencius (Mengzi), 1:3, where the fourth-century philosopher remarks, “Let mulberry trees be planted about the homesteads with their five acres.” Here Li Weizhen seems to be saying that half the family’s land holdings were dedicated to the humble residence of Xu Xiake’s mother. This is hyperbole. The land owned by Xu Xiake’s family undoubtedly exceeded ten acres.

  17. 17  YJJZ, 2:1475; YJ, 2:1231. The translation of this passage is heavily indebted to Julian Ward’s rendition in his Xu Xiake, 40.

  18. 18  Many modern biographical sources assume that Xu Xiake came from a wealthy, gentry family that could provide complete financial support for his travels. This was probably the case for his earlier, short-term, and less costly trips to destinations in or near Jiangnan. However, his later journey to southwest China, which lasted almost four years, required various strategies on Xu’s part to pay for his long-term travel expenses. These strategies are discussed below in the section “Travel in Late-Ming China.”

  19. 19  YJJZ, 2:1433; YJ, 2:1184. Again, I draw on Julian Ward’s translation in appendix 2. The Analects is an essential collection of aphorisms and historical anecdotes attributed to followers of Confucius. The complete text of the line only partially quoted here from Analects 4:19 reads, “When father and mother are still alive, the son should never travel afar and always have a specific destination in mind.” In other words, filial sons should never venture far from home when their parents are still alive so they can return home immediately if their parents are in need.

  20. 20  YJJZ, 1:58; YJ, 1:39. For specific identification of the place-names mentioned in this passage, see “A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Song,” this volume.

  21. 21  This is a rough estimate. The time to travel upriver on the Changjiang from Jiangsu to Mount Emei in Sichuan would depend on the type of vessel, river conditions, the number of stops made along the way, and other influencing factors.

  22. 22  YJJZ, 2:1434; YJ, 2:1186.

  23. 23  In high antiquity, China was divided into Nine Regions [Jiuzhou], supposedly established after the sage king Yu the Great (Da Yu) controlled the floods. YJJZ, 2:1487; YJ, 2:1245. Xu Xiake’s mother was called Wang Ruren (1545–1625). Ruren (Model Confucian Dame) was a name given to her by some unnamed source. Her given name (ming) is not documented.

  24. 24  DMB, 2:701–10.

  25. 25  This chronological organization follows modern Chinese editions of Xu Xiake’s travel diaries, where his oeuvre is organized into two general sections, one containing the mountain diaries (and Xu’s single lake diary) and the other including the accounts of his later trip to the southwest.

  26. 26  Originally, a second servant named Wang the Second (Wang’er) accompanied Xu Xiake on his journey to the southwest, but he ran off shortly after the trip began.

  27. 27  DMB, 2:1076–79; NP1, 44.

  28. 28  YJJZ, 2:1503; JY, 2:1258. For a complete translation of Pan Lei’s preface, see appendix 5. The English translation of these lines is that of Julian Ward.

  29. 29  YJJZ, 2:1516–22; YJ, 2:1283–92.

  30. 30  YJJZ, 2:1500; YJ, 1:1.

  31. 31  For more on Wang Yongji, see part 2, note 1, p. 189.

  32. 32  YJJZ, 2:1500; YJ, 1:1. Zhongren was Wang Yongji’s nickname.

  33. 33  YJJZ, 2:1501; YJ, 2:1256.

  34. 34  Li Ji (courtesy name Jieli) was born to a servant, née Zhou, in the Xu household, with whom Xu Xiake had an affair. When Miss Zhou’s pregnancy became known to the family, she was sold to a local man surnamed Li, who then became Li Ji’s stepfather and raised him. The Xu family stipulated that the boy could never adopt their surname. For additional details, see appendix 1, “Chronology of Xu Xiake,” entry for 1620. Li Ji’s birth year is controversial among Xu Xiake’s biographers. Here I follow Zhou Ningxia, “Xu Xiake jiating beiju ji Li Ji shengnian zai tantao,” 224–25. Based on these birth and death years, Li Ji was the third of Xu Xiake’s four sons: his oldest son, Xu Qi (already mentioned), was born to his first wife, née Xŭ (d. 1618); Xu’s second son, Xu Xian 徐峴 (1619–?), was the progeny of his second wife, née Luo; while the fourth or youngest son, Xu Gou 徐岣[𡵺] (1624–78), was born to a concubine surnamed Jin 金. Each of Xu Xiake’s sons, then, had a different mother.

  35. 35  The two sightseeing trips mentioned here are translated in “Travels in Dian 1,” this volume.

  36. 36  YJJZ, 2:1508–09; YJ, 1:1.

  37. 37  For details of this remarkable discovery, see Zhou Ningxia, “Xu Xiake youji yuanshi chaoben faxian ji zhengli chuban jingguo shuyao.”

  38. 38  Xu Xiake’s account of the Xiang River robbery is translated in “Travels in Chu” (diary entry for 7 March 1637), this volume.

  39. 39  Xu Shen 許慎 (30–124 CE), Talks on Single-Constituent Characters and Explanations of Composite-Constituent Characters (Shuowen jiezi 說文解字) (Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1963), 101 shang.

  40. 40  Mei and Yu, Zhongguo youji wenxueshi, 300.

  41. 41  On the history of these shorter sightseeing accounts and other forms of Chinese travel writing, see Strassberg, Inscribed Landscapes, esp. 1–56, and Hargett, Jade Mountains and Cinnabar Pools, esp. 93–106 and 145–51.

  42. 42  Xu’s encounter with the two “unscrupulous monks” from Nanning is translated in “Travels in Western Yue 1” (diary entries for 26 and 27 January), this volume.

  43. 43  YJJZ, 1:51; YJ, 1:33.

  44. 44  Villagers and old ladies were basking in the sun for warmth and holding up incense burners (tilu) to welcome travelers passing through the village.

  45. 45  YJJZ, 1:91; YJ, 1:57. Note that in this passage, Xu Xiake uses the word qi, or “extraordinary,” in the sense of “unusual” or even “strange.”

  46. 46  On Wang Shixing, see part 2, note 15, page 405. On the geographical-investigative travel writing of Wang Shixing and Xu Xiake, see Hargett, Jade Mountains and Cinnabar Pools, 157–75.

  47. 47  Tracing the Jiang Upstream to Unravel its Source is translated in “Travels in Dian 13,” this volume.

  48. 48  YJJZ, 1:379–80; YJ, 1:293–94. I follow the gloss on hongtong 澒洞 (“boundless space”; note that 洞 here reads tóng) in YJJZ, 1:397n21. For a translation of Xu Xiake’s first visit to Seven Stars Cavern, see “Travels in Western Yue 1,” this volume.

  49. 49  Natasa Ravbar, “The Earliest Chinese Karstologist Xu Xiake,” Acta Carsologica 32.1 (May 2003): 252–53.

  50. 50  Ravbar, “The Earliest Chinese Karstologist Xu Xiake,” 253.

  51. 51  YJJZ, 1:59; YJ, 1:40. The expression “wash one’s dusty eyes” (xi chenyan 洗塵眼) is commonly used to mean “provide a lavish dinner to welcome a guest from afar.” However, Xu uses the expression figuratively; he never imagined that the scene at Rocky Roar would “welcome” him so warmly, especially after he had trudged through thick grasses and bushy reeds to get there.

  52. 52  The exception to this statement is Julian Ward’s monograph. For a more detailed treatment of the various rhetorical ways Xu Xiake uses language, see Ward, Xu Xiake, esp. 108–25.

  53. 53  YJJZ, 1:38; YJ, 1:25.

  54. 54  YJJZ, 1:154–55; YJ, 1:103–4. The English translation of this passage is that of Allan H. Barr and is excerpted from his translation in “Travels in Zhe,” in part 2 (diary entry for 6 November 1636), this volume.

  55. 55  For previous studies, see Zheng and Jiang, Xu Xiake yu shanshui wenhua, 383–436; Ward, Xu Xiake, chapters 2 and 3.

  56. 56  YJJZ, 1:629; YJ, 1:515.

  57. 57  YJJZ, 1:604–05; YJ, 1:492–93.

  58. 58  YJJZ, 2:770; YJ, 1:644.

  59. 59  YJJZ, 1:654; YJ, 1:539.

  60. 60  YJJZ, 2:770; YJ, 1:643.

  61. 61  YJJZ, 1:627; YJ, 1:513.

  62. 62  YJJZ, 2:1327; YJ, 2:1100.

  63. 63  YJJZ, 1:335; YJ, 1:258; YJJZ, 2:746; YJ, 1:622.

  64. 64  YJJZ, 1:358; YJ, 1:276.

  65. 65  YJJZ, 1:646; YJ, 1:531.

  66. 66  YJJZ, 1:598; YJ, 1:490.

  67. 67  YJJZ, 1:606; YJ, 1:494.

  68. 68  YJJZ, 2:881; YJ, 2:725.

  69. 69  YJJZ, 2:1273; YJ, 2:1006.

  70. 70  Complete bibliographical citations for these and the other translations mentioned below are provided in the selected bibliography.

  71. 71  Li Chi, The Travel Diaries of Hsü Hsia-k’o, preface (n.p.).

  72. 72  Xu Xiake mentions this term in “A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Wutai” and “A Sightseeing Trip to Mount Heng.” Both diaries are translated in this volume.

  73. 73  Ward, Xu Xiake, 97.

  74. 74  1919; rpt., Sandwich, MA: Chapman Billies, 1997, 33.

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