James Hargett’s edited volume, Wading Barefoot through a Mountain Stream: The Travel Diaries of Xu Xiake (1587–1641), is a welcome addition to the translations of late imperial Chinese works. Working with six other translators (Allan Barr, Joe Dennis, Naixi Feng, Kenneth Ganza, Alister Inglis, and Julian Ward), he has assembled a superb set of translations with a compact introduction, useful appendices, and essential indices that offer both readers and teachers a great companion, both in the private sphere and in the classroom.
Professor Hargett has previously published translations of writings by Song-dynasty traveler Fan Chengda (范成大, 1126–1193), and has published a monograph on the history of Chinese travel writing.Footnote 1 Xu Xiake 徐霞客, the pen name of Xu Hongzu (徐弘祖), is one of the foci of that work, and Professor Hargett’s deep investment in this genre of writing has guided him in his lucid explanations of Xu Xiake within his context as traveler, writer, and geographer.
Xu Xiake is one of those ubiquitous names from Chinese history, alongside the likes of Sima Qian, Li Bai, Du Fu, Zheng He, and a select few who have resonance well beyond the world of Chinese scholarship. As the preeminent writer of geographic travel writing from before the modern era, Xu stands as a beacon for the exploration of landscape as landscape, for its rivers and mountains, both with and without human presence. His work, titled Xu xiake youji (The travel writings of Xu Xiake), has gradually found its place in translations into several languages, including Italian, Korean, German, and English, among others. One of the earliest translations into English was the groundbreaking work of Li Chi, whose translation from 1974, The Travels of Hsu Hsia-k’o, introduced an earlier generation of readers to Xu Xiake’s account. As Hargett points out (lviii), this was an important work, although given the length of Xu Xiake’s writings, the limited scope of Li Chi’s translation, and the discovery/recovery of other manuscripts, important dimensions to our understanding of Xu’s work have previously been unavailable in English. Of critical work, the most important in English is by Julian Ward.Footnote 2
The book is divided into the prefatory materials, a two-part division of the travel diaries, appendices, indices, and other postfatory materials.
The work commences with a useful conventions section on specifics of translations (romanization, names, places, titles, time conversions, special religious and geographic terms, and other aspects), useful to readers of all levels. The introduction then covers Xu Xiake’s life; his texts (the diaries and their transmission); “the art of travel writing,” which concerns the specifics of language usage in the text; and travel during the Ming, with topics such as funding, accommodations, meals, and others. The editor concludes with an overview of previous translations and a section on this volume’s translation practices. He explains this volume’s dual purpose: “to provide an English translation that represents the broad and varied content in Xu Xiake’s travel diaries” and “to produce an English version of the diaries faithful to the original Chinese text and a rendition that approximates in English… Xu Xiake’s narrative prose style” (lix).
The translators have done excellent work. The main body reads smoothly. The geographical terms in use have been carefully rendered, covering specialist terms in both English and Chinese. Most of us will likely want to double-check the meaning of terms such as notch, spur, burn scar, glen, crag, col, belvedere, and the like. The translators also tackle issues respecting religion (both Buddhism and Daoism). Place names are generally translated, with the pinyin provided on first appearance. Finally, the translators render the names of monks by translating what their characters mean. This is a tough choice, as readers in translation will find these names far more memorable (and a little strange) compared with the nondescript pinyin translations, which confuse readers with a plethora of names. The names of other people are rendered in pinyin. Thus, Xu Xiake’s close friend, the monk Jingwen (靜聞, d. 1637), goes by “Tranquil Hearing” and is buried on “Chicken-foot Mountain” (instead of Jizu Mountain).
The main part of the book is the travels, divided into two parts. The first part, entitled Mountain Diaries, 1613–1633, covers 17 discrete visits to specific mountains. The second part of the travels is entitled The Provincial Diaries, 1636–1639, and includes six subsections on different travels. Each section includes a map, while photographs and paintings are also included.
Xu Xiake’s descriptions of the landscape are the highlight here. One passage that Hargett points out in an editorial introduction reads:
Rocky Roar’s movement is jarring and jerky, twisting and turning, always moving on lower ground. When it reaches this spot, 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…. (89)
In another passage, Xu Xiake presents another set of mountains in a variety of forms:
From here on, all the mountain spurs fall from the top into a gulch below. Those that protrude form ridges of hills; those that are concave form gorges. The trail follows the midpoint of the mountain. When you encounter a hill, you mount and ascend; when you meet a gorge, you look down and descend. When you pass through the second gorge through Chessboard Rock, there is a rock ten-some rods high standing straight up on the flank of a peak, which I felt was especially graceful and gorgeous. Within the gorge and inside the area where the rock stands, precipices stick out, and trees crowd together. When you gaze at them, they are quite extraordinary in appearance, but along the twisting trail, it was pouring rain, and vegetation clogged the way, so there was no way to gain a foothold. (236)
Xu Xiake’s ability to detail the natural features of the places visited gives us a wide array of the fauna, as seen in these two passages:
The red and purple flowers on the mountain ridge vied in their beauty. Only after I approached from Sea Turtle Head Mountain did I see the blue petals of mountain azaleas. There are also two varieties of purple flowers found here. The larger variety is the camellia (shancha); the small variety is the mountain azalea. They are most charming in their allure. Also, among some withered trees, yellowish-white mushrooms were as thick and big as plates…. (258–59)
The mountain trees here are so tall they seem to hold up the empyrean. In these parts, the mountain trees are enormous. The most precious ones are solitude trees (dumu); next are nan trees. There are also coffin-wood trees (shoumu), the leaves of which are flat like the leaves of the leaning thuja (cebo), a variety of cypress trees. The huge ones in girth measure the arm spans of four or five people and are dozens of rods high. On the flank of the Xiao Source River, where one crosses it, a nan tree has been felled to serve as a bridge across it. It stands up to a man’s eyebrows and runs for no less than thirty paces. I heard that twenty years ago, people were ordered to gather lumber and built a bridge across the river. Could this be what is left of it? (259)
The place of the traveler is an important part of the story, and Xu Xiake’s presence is felt constantly:
The cavern walls not only pressed against my shoulders; my chest was right up against the rock. There was no way to clamber and tread forward… my shoulder could not fit through. I advanced only after turning my body sideways… I could not climb farther, so the monk guide pulled me up…. [he] could not descend… (133–34)
The difficulty of travel comes up continuously. There is that of the terrain, where he forces his way up, down, through, and around a series of obstacles for a variety of causes and reasons. There is the difficulty we see above the actual places: the mountain is steep and without footsteps or holds; the cave is low and/or tight; the path is blocked by thick vegetation, sometimes bamboo, sometimes thorny plants. The way is also blocked because of the dangers of the road (bandits, foreign armies, unfriendly tribes, and cautious officials). Xu heeds warnings as he follows the rules and instructions of those in positions of authority or that he trusts. However, he is wary of following others, such as locals without much knowledge of the hills and mountains, or others Xu finds problematic only for their own personal reasons.
The translators also highlight more personal elements, primarily the filial piety that restricts Xu from traveling great distances while his mother is alive. Only after her death did he make his famous trips to the Southwest. Other problems arise, such as when he and his entourage are attacked and robbed on the river, with monk Tranquil Hearing being injured in the robbery. Even more troubling is his faithful servant Gu Xing (顧行, n.d.) robbing him and fleeing with the funds for Xu’s trip.
The translators keep the reader on pace, although this book is not one to be read in a single sitting. They also provide guidance through discreet but helpful annotations. They provide guidance on important points, but also help with family and social networks that are encountered in Xu’s writings. Connections to both Dong Qichang (董其昌, 1555–1636) and Qian Qianyi (錢謙益, 1582–1664) mark Xu as less a Wildman who loves the wilderness than a member in good standing of the most important cultural literati sphere of the day. This book helps make sense of just why and how easily Xu could travel without truly worrying about how to fund his project, because he was rubbing elbows with his fellow literati across the Sinitic world.
Religion is another important element of the travels. With the death of Tranquil Hearing, Xu Xiake takes on the additional responsibility of conveying his ashes for burial on Chicken Foot Mountain. The mountains are places of sanctuary for both Buddhists and Daoists, and Xu Xiake takes part in various ceremonies, as well as closely interacting with believers whenever he is in their vicinity. This has both practical reasons (they run the hotel system, if you like) and sympathetic ones (Xu Xiake appears to believe in Buddhist doctrine, although he is circumspect about local legends that contravene logic and common sense).
As the editor notes, Xu rarely comments on why he travels. Hargett then highlights Xu’s comments on a summer trip in 1620 to Nine Carp Lake: “The charm of this area lies in the rising clouds and colorful mist, so I come here to enjoy the surrounding mountains and rivers. Why is it necessary, then to pursue and then leave a mark on them?” (82) More than a decade later, in 1633, while in Yunnan, Xu records another passage that speaks to why one might travel. Here he encounters Shi Zhongwen (史仲文, n.d.).
[Mr. Shi] told me that throughout a lifetime of exploring mountains, he had constantly been laughed at and become afraid of speaking to anyone. He was delighted by our chance encounter. Having reached the end of the line after forty years of exploring our great mountain ranges, finally meeting a like-minded soul was quite extraordinary (451).
The travels end abruptly, just after Xu’s (formerly) faithful servant runs off.
The appendices are very useful. They include a chronology, three short biographies of Xu’s life, the preface to the first publication, and two sets of poems composed by Xu that are relevant to his travels and his traveling companion, Tranquil Hearing. The chronology gives us an objective line to measure Xu’s writings against, as well as to situate the biographies that come afterwards. For example, even with all that we read in the diaries and other texts, it is only in the reconstruction of the chronology that we understand Xu Xiake was twice married and also had children by a concubine and a servant, and that the servant was driven out of the home, while her child became the primary editor of Xu Xiake’s diaries after he had died. The three biographies give insight into how Xu’s life and writings were understood and explained immediately following his death, and thus extend our knowledge of the growing appreciation of his work. The first biography lays out the prominence of the Xu clan, and in particular makes sense of how well-connected the author was. The second life, by Qian Qianyi, shows how involved this project was with the literati world. Xu Xiake was no accidental writer: he had been raised within the confines of good wealth and excellent scholarly traditions. The last brief biography is taken from the gazetteer of Chickenfoot Mountain.
The two sets of poems, with their commentary, allow us insight into the depth of his appreciation of his friend and of Buddhist traditions. The poems on the death of Tranquil Hearing speak directly to the importance of friendship as a key bond in late imperial times, while the last set of poems falls within the tradition of mountain writing poems.
In conclusion, Hargett and company have done a wonderful job in conveying the importance of Xu Xiake as a travel writer and geographer. This book would serve well in individual hands (readers might be tempted to use it as a guide to their own traipsing in the wilderness) and in the classroom, where instructors would find it a bountiful primary source that students could use to learn about a variety of topics on late imperial China.
