It is a strange thing to watch a movie and realize the hero doesn’t actually look like the hero. In 1958, audiences flocked to see Ingrid Bergman play Gladys Aylward in The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, a sweeping cinematic epic set against the backdrop of war-torn China. Bergman was statuesque, blonde, and Swedish. The real Gladys Aylward? She was barely five feet tall, had dark hair, and spoke with a thick working-class London accent. She was also reportedly horrified by the film.
History is messy like that.
When we talk about The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, we are usually talking about two different things: the glossy, Oscar-nominated 20th Century Fox production and the gritty, almost unbelievable reality of a woman who refused to take "no" for an answer. The film is a classic of the Golden Age, famous for its "Children’s Marching Song" (Nick Nack Paddy Whack) and its lush Technicolor landscapes. But the actual events that inspired it involve more than just a catchy tune. They involve a solo journey across the Trans-Siberian Railway, a woman working as a "foot inspector" to end the practice of foot-binding, and a desperate trek over mountains with 100 orphans while fleeing the Imperial Japanese Army.
Hollywood vs. Reality: The Woman Behind the Name
Gladys Aylward was a domestic servant in London who felt a "calling" to go to China. She wasn't a scholar. She wasn't rich. In fact, the China Inland Mission rejected her because her academic background was deemed too poor for her to learn the difficult Chinese language. She didn't care. She saved her own money, bought a one-way ticket on the railway, and headed toward a war zone in the 1930s.
The movie simplifies this. It has to. It’s Hollywood. In the film, Bergman’s character finds a romantic interest in Captain Lin Nan, played by Curd Jürgens. This was one of the many things that bothered the real Gladys. She felt the romantic subplot was an insult to the life she led and the work she was doing. Honestly, the real story is much more harrowing. At one point during her journey to China, Gladys was nearly detained by Soviet officials who wanted to use her as a laborer. She literally had to jump off a train and walk through the Siberian snow to reach a ship that would take her to Japan, and eventually, to her destination in Yangcheng.
The Five Happinesses (And the Missing Sixth)
The name of the inn itself is a bit of a riddle. In Chinese culture, the "Five Blessings" or Five Happinesses are traditionally longevity, wealth, health, love of virtue, and a peaceful death. The "Sixth Happiness" was a bit of poetic license. In the context of the story, the inn was a place for muleteers—the truck drivers of the 1930s—to rest and hear stories.
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Gladys and an older missionary, Jeannie Lawson, set up the inn as a way to provide food and shelter while sharing their faith. It was a brilliant tactical move. If you want people to listen to you, you give them a warm meal and a place to sleep. But the "Sixth Happiness" in the title refers to something internal—the idea that each person must find their own additional happiness.
The Foot Inspector of Yangcheng
One of the most fascinating parts of the The Inn of the Sixth Happiness narrative—both in the film and in the biography The Small Woman by Alan Burgess—is Gladys’s role as a foot inspector. The local Mandarin (played by Robert Donat in his final film role) needed someone to enforce the new law against foot-binding. He chose Gladys because she had "big feet"—meaning her feet hadn't been bound—and she could travel to remote villages.
This wasn't just a job. It was a massive cultural shift. Gladys went into homes and convinced mothers to stop a centuries-old tradition that caused immense physical suffering. She gained a level of access to Chinese society that almost no other foreigner had at the time. This is why, when the Japanese began bombing the region, she was in a unique position to help. She wasn't just a missionary on the outskirts; she was "Ai-weh-deh," the "Virtuous One," a woman the community actually trusted.
Why the 1958 Film Still Divides People
If you watch the movie today, the "yellowface" casting is jarring. Robert Donat, while a brilliant actor, was a British man playing a Chinese Mandarin. This was standard practice in the 1950s, but it makes the film a difficult watch for modern audiences who value authentic representation.
Despite this, the film was a massive commercial success. It was one of the highest-grossing films of the year. Mark Robson’s direction gave it a sense of scale that feels like a precursor to the great epics of the 1960s. But it’s important to acknowledge that the film is a product of its time. It prioritizes Western melodrama over the nuances of Chinese history or the stark reality of Gladys’s life.
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- Fact: The film was shot in Wales, not China. The Snowdonia mountains doubled for the mountains of Shanxi.
- Controversy: Gladys Aylward was so upset by the film's inaccuracies and the romantic liberties taken that she reportedly never watched the whole thing.
- Legacy: The movie made Gladys a global celebrity, a role she was deeply uncomfortable with, though she used the platform to advocate for refugees.
The Impossible Trek: 100 Children Across the Mountains
The climax of The Inn of the Sixth Happiness—the trek with the orphans—is one of those "stranger than fiction" moments. By 1938, the war was closing in. Yangcheng was no longer safe. Gladys took roughly 100 children and began a 27-day walk to reach a government orphanage in Xi'an.
Think about that for a second.
No supplies. No transport. Just a woman and a hundred kids, ranging from toddlers to teenagers, walking through a literal war zone. They slept on hillsides. They ate what they could find. They had to cross the Yellow River while dodging patrols. When she finally arrived, Gladys collapsed from typhus and exhaustion. She had literally given everything she had to get those children to safety.
The movie captures the emotion of this, especially with the "Children's Marching Song." It’s a tear-jerker. But the actual physical toll on Gladys was permanent. She never fully recovered her health, yet she returned to her work as soon as she was able.
Why We Still Talk About This Story in 2026
We live in an era where we are obsessed with "authentic" stories. The Inn of the Sixth Happiness stands at a crossroads. On one hand, it’s a beautifully crafted piece of mid-century cinema. On the other, it’s a reminder of how much Hollywood used to "clean up" reality to make it palatable for Western audiences.
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But the reason the story survives—the reason people still search for it—isn't just because of Ingrid Bergman's performance. It’s because the core of the story is about the power of an individual who refuses to accept "no." Gladys was told she was too uneducated. She was told she was too poor. She was told the journey was too dangerous. She did it anyway.
There's a gritty, stubborn kind of hope in that.
Actionable Takeaways for History and Film Buffs
If you want to truly understand the legacy of The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, don't just stop at the movie. Here is how to get the full picture:
- Read "The Small Woman" by Alan Burgess. This is the 1957 biography that the movie was based on. It contains many of the details Hollywood stripped away, including the more harrowing aspects of her journey through Russia.
- Watch the 1958 film with a critical eye. Appreciate the cinematography and Bergman’s acting, but pay attention to where the script chooses romance over historical reality. It’s a masterclass in 1950s studio system storytelling.
- Research the Yangcheng area. If you look at modern maps of the Shanxi province, you can see the rugged terrain Gladys had to navigate. It puts the scale of her 27-day trek into perspective.
- Explore the "Sixth Happiness" philosophy. Beyond the movie, the idea of a "sixth" happiness—the one you create for yourself—is a profound way to look at personal agency and purpose.
Gladys Aylward died in Taiwan in 1970. She had spent her final years running another orphanage. She never got the "Hollywood ending" of marrying a handsome captain and sailing into the sunset. She got something much harder and, arguably, much more rewarding: a life spent entirely on her own terms, serving a community that she grew to love more than her own safety.
When you look past the Technicolor and the 1950s soundtracks, that's what remains. A small woman with a very large shadow.