Peking
We reached Peking after dark, which was fortunate, as the glamour of
all one’s youthful dreams was not at once dispelled by being brought
face to face with the prosaic European Legations which lie just within
the gates. At the railway station, which is close to the great gate
leading to the Summer Palace, we emerged into a shouting, jostling
Chinese crowd, and were put into rickshas by the friends--Chinese and
American--who had come to meet us. Police were keeping order after a
fashion most necessary, for I saw a pushing fellow seize an unlucky man
who was having a dispute and fling his ricksha to the ground as if it
were a dirty rag. When we and our luggage had been safely packed into
a ricksha we were swiftly drawn over the most shocking roads, through
the great gloomy gates, into the city. Everywhere we seemed surrounded
by towering walls of vast thickness. Over the chief gateway is a large
temple containing the tutelary deities, which may give some idea of
this thickness. It rises tier above tier and is painted a beautiful
Venetian red, and the tiles are a bright blue-green; the overhanging
eaves are of carved woodwork, painted blue and green and gold. Opposite
this entrance is that of the imperial palace, above which one sees its
orange-coloured tiles. From the top of the wall one gets a fine view
of the long approach to the palace, gateway beyond gateway, in true
Chinese style, and stretching on every side an endless vista of trees
and roofs of the city. Formerly this was a favourite _point de vue_ for
watching royalties when they drove out, but now no one is allowed to do
this, and notice is sent to the various embassies requesting foreigners
to stay indoors when the royal family is taking an airing!
[Illustration: CITY WALL OF PEKING]
From the great gate eastward, part of the wall was held during the
siege by the Americans, aided by twenty British and twenty Russian
soldiers. One morning they awoke to find that during the night the
Chinese had built a tower on it, of about twenty feet high, overlooking
them. All the next day they had to lie close under their criss-cross
defences, but it was clear that unless the tower were seized the
Chinese would soon be masters of the situation. Captain Myers planned
its capture, inviting volunteers to help him, and naturally the twenty
British soldiers responded promptly. It was arranged that the Americans
and British should get round it from the outer side of the wall, and
the Russians join them from the inner side. When the time came for the
plan to be carried out it was quite successful, except for the fact
that no Russians took part in it, and that Captain Myers was severely
wounded. As we stood listening to the story from one of the besieged
we saw a touching scene in the American barracks below us. A man
entered carrying home mails, and shouted out the fact. In a moment men
came flying from every quarter of the hitherto empty yard with hands
outstretched; one could almost see the throb of delight with which the
letters were seized. But this was in time of peace, and we could but
dimly realise what far greater excitement was caused by the arrival
of a messenger from Tientsin during the siege, after the sickening
suspense of hope deferred. How deadly must have been the disappointment
when the brief message ran that help was coming, but not a word as to
_when_, merely the egoistic remark that in Tientsin they also had been
besieged!
My sketch is taken on the top of the wall, and shows the part held by
the Americans: it extends from the spot where I was standing as far as
the building over the great gate, and the embassies are close below the
wall on the right-hand side.
The accounts of the siege which we heard from all those who had lived
through it agreed in one respect--the singular defencelessness of
the besieged, and the ease with which they might have been wiped
out--leading one to conceive the probability of what a Chinese resident
told me, that their commander-in-chief determined that this should not
be done. The time that followed the siege seems to have been really in
many ways worse than the siege itself for those who remained in Peking.
Far the most impressive monument here is the altar of Heaven, which
lies at a short distance outside the inner city in an ancient park,
surrounded by a high wall. Passing through a simple doorway, you drive
in your ricksha up an avenue of acacias for a short distance till
you come to another wall, and here you must get out before entering
the inner park. The trees were already beginning to look autumnal
(November) as we made our way across the coarse grass into another
high-walled enclosure, surrounded by a moat; we had to knock for
admittance to a large courtyard, where the Emperor spends the night
once a year before offering the great national sacrifice to Heaven. All
the roofs of the buildings round the courtyard were of brilliant green
tiles, and contrasted beautifully with the marble terrace, balustrades,
and bridges. From here the Emperor goes at 5.30 A.M., accompanied by
his courtiers, to the great marble altar of Heaven, about one-fifth
of a mile distant across the park. Fine stone pylons lead to the
altar, but the paths are overgrown with grass, and there is a look
of desolation brooding over the place. The altar is a high circular
platform of marble, with three short flights of steps leading up from
each of the four points of the compass. The Emperor ascends these
steps, accompanied by his courtiers, but only those over seventy years
of age may go up the top flight and remain with him while he kneels
in the centre, under the vault of Heaven, to offer his sacrificial
prayer. No spectator is ever allowed to be present. At the foot of the
steps the sacrifice is offered, but the Emperor is no longer obliged
to slay the bullock himself, as in the old days. This act is delegated
to a high official. The sacrificial beasts are reared and kept in the
surrounding park. Twelve bales of cloth are burnt in great braziers
as an offering to Heaven; they are placed at short distances from one
another, and each time there is a new emperor a new brazier is erected.
Everything is round, as being emblematic of Heaven, while in the temple
to Earth everything is square, because the earth is supposed to be
square, and in the latter the sacrifices are buried instead of being
burnt, so that they may go down instead of up!
Close to the altar of Heaven is a small round enclosure containing a
temple roofed with gorgeous lapis-lazuli blue tiles, like the adjoining
temple of Heaven, which is erected on a marble platform exactly similar
to the altar of Heaven.
[Illustration: TEMPLE OF HEAVEN]
There are two particularly fine Buddhist temples at Peking, one
outside and the other inside the walls, the former being a monastic
establishment and swarming with degraded-looking monks. It has the
imperial double-storied roofs of a noble orange colour, and it was
a picturesque sight to see the orange-robed monks trooping into the
courtyard to evening prayer. There were many young boys amongst them,
probably sent from Manchuria as a thank-offering for the recovery of
a father from severe illness, and consequently doomed to a life of
idleness and ignorance. The Buddhist monks are notorious in this city
for their low morals, and the signs of it are unmistakably stamped
upon their faces; they do no work of any kind, and live upon the alms
given by worshippers or which they have begged, according to the
rules of the order. It is comic to see the Buddhist monks strutting
along under huge orange umbrellas, nose in air, followed by a servant
carrying the compulsory begging bowl! The head of the monastery is an
incarnate Buddha. In the chief temple of this monastery is a gigantic
standing figure of Buddha, and you can go up a staircase to inspect
the head, which is otherwise hardly visible in the gloom of the lofty
building, whose only light comes from the doorway. In the smaller
buildings are other Buddhas of various kinds, and the Bodhisattwa, the
1000-handed goddess Kwanyin.
In the Lama temple, three miles outside the city, there are figures of
the goddess of mercy, beside the three seated Buddhas, and she is to
be found in many of the temples. She was originally a man, but had the
heart of a woman! Here we were dreadfully pestered by dirty children,
whom the priest tried ineffectually to keep in order. Each courtyard
we came to had to be unlocked, but he always let them pass through
with us, clamouring for money. The great feature of the yellow temple
is a marble monument to the memory of a lama who came from Tibet and
died of smallpox. It is composed of white marble, and the centre has a
fine series of carvings round it illustrating scenes from the life of
the Buddha. Unfortunately, after the siege of Peking French soldiers
were quartered here, and they are said to have amused themselves by
knocking off the head of every single figure. The effect of the white
marble and gold in the midst of hoary cypresses is very fine. This
is where the Dalai Lama was lodged during his stay in Peking.[7] It
must have been a picturesque scene on his arrival, when he entered the
sacred precincts, passing between two long rows of yellow-clad monks.
Would that we had been there to see it, instead of at such a dreary
season! We had come in the face of considerable difficulties, but it
was well worth while; the wind blowing when we started in rickshas
soon developed into a typical Chili dust-storm, and soon after leaving
the city the men declared they could go no further. Having no other
chance of visiting the place, we determined not to be baulked and set
out on foot. We struggled bravely forward through stinging, blinding
dust till we got under the lee of its high wall. The return journey
was not so bad, as the wind was behind us, and we could enjoy watching
other passengers whom we met in the city lying as flat as they could
in rickshas, and with handkerchiefs spread over their faces. We were
almost unrecognisable when we got in, and it was a well-nigh hopeless
task to get rid of the dust from hair and clothes.
For once a Chinese cart seemed a desirable thing, and we were glad to
find one waiting to take us to a Chinese friend’s house, where we
were to spend the remainder of our time at Peking. The streets are
broad and fairly well policed, but their roughness is extraordinary,
and when you sit cross-legged in the place of honour at the back of a
springless cart you are tossed from side to side like a ball, and your
head bumped unmercifully, till you have learned how to avoid it. You
get much more exercise than if you walk; the only compensation is that
you know you are doing the correct thing. Our host, who is a successful
young doctor, explained that he was obliged to go in a cart to visit
high-class patients, instead of on his bicycle, though it took up a
great deal more time.
We were glad to have a Chinaman to take us shopping, for our mouths
watered to see the attractive things in the native shops. The minute
that a European enters, up go the prices to at least double, if not
treble; so we had an amusing but not very successful time in them.
Our kind host could not bear to see us being cheated, and it was with
the utmost difficulty that I persuaded him to get me a black spotted
leopard-skin coat lined with lovely blue silk, on which I had set
my heart, as the shopman refused to come down to what he considered
a reasonable price. He begged us to let him in future get what we
wanted and have the things brought to his house for inspection: the
main difficulty lay in the fact that we did not know what we wanted,
for the most part; but about one thing I had no doubt, and that was
specimens of the noted nail paintings. There was only one celebrated
artist, and he was about to retire to his native province of Szechwan,
but by great good luck we secured a book containing nine paintings
done with the finger-nail, and two white silk scrolls. The designs are
excellent, and it is difficult to see any difference from that of a
brush in execution. The book is bound in Chinese style, simply between
two wooden boards, with a plain band of gold running down one side for
about three-quarters of its length, but no title on it.
A comparison between Chinese and Japanese art shows plainly their close
connection, and if the Japanese excel in certain qualities, they have
not the virility which characterises the Chinese, from whom all their
art is derived. It was towards the close of the fourth century A.D.
that a systematic criticism of art and a history of painters was begun
in China. The canons of pictorial art were laid down, and it will help
us to understand and appreciate Chinese art better if we remember that
the first and most important of their six canons is “the Life movement
of the Spirit through the Rhythm of Things.” Though their art is mainly
decorative, it possesses marvellous vitality and poetic imagination. At
the Chinese Court there were fifteen artists in attendance, ready to
depict anything that the Dowager Empress might wish to have painted.
[Illustration: AN OFFICIAL]
[Illustration: A LADY OF QUALITY]
A distinguished lady, closely allied to the Empress, kindly gave
me a sitting one morning; but as she was at the time exempted from
attendance at Court on account of ill-health, she was unable to wear
full dress--namely, the large Manchu coiffure--which is so heavy
that the Empress decided to allow it to be replaced by large black
satin bows. It is difficult to fasten the framework securely to the
head, over which the hair is arranged, so the coiffure is usually
made with false hair, and it is funny to see withered old hags in the
streets wearing these, with a large flower stuck jauntily at the side.
I found my sitter a very difficult one to paint, as she was heavily
painted (in a different sense), and the square scarlet under-lip and
absence of line in the upper eyelid gave a wooden expression to the
whole face, which was unusually large, and surmounted by a perfect
flower-bed. It would have been easier to express the dignity of her
carriage had she been standing, but although she offered to do so, I
felt it was impossible to take advantage of her good-nature when I
knew she was ill. Her hands were slender and beautifully shaped, but
she wore no rings; her feet were very small and shod in artistically
embroidered Manchu shoes with white soles--nearly two inches thick (the
Manchus never bind their feet). Unfortunately, the handsome heliotrope
gown and short jacket were trimmed with European braid, and owing to
the cold weather they were wadded, which lends a clumsy appearance
to the whole figure. Her charming little black pug belongs to the
celebrated palace breed.
It was not till after we had enjoyed tea and cakes that I was allowed
to begin the portrait; and the prince came in to make our acquaintance,
so that a good deal of time was taken up, and I was only able to make
a hasty sketch, to be finished later on. Then the lady said we must
certainly be hungry and insisted on our stopping to dinner, saying she
herself was very hungry--how much more so must we be, who had worked
while she did nothing. My friend protested that she had done nothing
at all, being reduced to silence by her ignorance of the language,
to which came the charming retort, “You will be fatigued, then, by
your good intentions!” All our protests as to other engagements were
overruled, and we sat down, at the other end of the room from where we
had been sitting before, to a sumptuous repast, consisting of every
kind of meat and vegetable, served in small pieces in innumerable
little dishes. In the centre of the table there was a charming set of
nine dishes, which are generally used for sweetmeats, but which our
hostess had thought would be equally nice for meat--an innovation we
thoroughly appreciated, as they looked so much prettier than separate
ones. From these dishes we were continually helped to cold chicken,
duck, sausage, pigeons, eggs, ham, and other less recognisable
dainties. Round these were more dishes of hot vegetables, pickled meat
and vegetable, rissoles, fried meat balls, stewed meat, cabbage and
meat, &c., &c., from all of which our hostess continued to serve us
with her own chopsticks, eating but little herself, according to the
Chinese etiquette. We were given spoons and forks, as she shrewdly
suspected our inability to wield chopsticks. Little bowls of rice were
also handed round, and as soon as we stopped eating she did the same.
Next came bowls of soup, each containing two eggs, and this concluded
the solid part of the feast; as soon as we had retired to the other end
of the room tea was brought, with preserved crab-apples, apple jam, and
peanuts. Part of the dinner, we were told, was prepared by men and part
by women cooks.
Before we took leave the children came in to be introduced. All
the young people are learning English, and shook hands in English
style--namely, with _us_, instead of with _themselves_. Many polite
questions were asked as to our families, our clothes, and the price
of the Viennese gown I was wearing, and my amethyst pendant. Silk
is considered the only material for a handsome dress in China, and
precious stones are practically unknown, jade being the only one worn.
Finally we made our adieux, accompanied to the outermost courtyard by
our kind hostess; and the next day she sent me a fascinating assortment
of Chinese paints, each done up separately in the neatest little
parcel, containing either a bottle or a little box. We came away much
impressed by the indescribable charm of Chinese manners, and many a
time afterwards I felt how _gauche_ we were in comparison. We drove
away in our cart for politeness’ sake, but a short ride in it after
such a feast would have had disastrous consequences, so we quickly
transferred ourselves to rickshas as soon as we were out of sight of
the palace.
It would be wearisome to the reader to describe all the interesting
places we saw in Peking, but there is still one that I must
mention--the Hall of the Classics. It is the centre of the great
examination system of the past, and probably will never again have
its old importance. Here the final examination took place of all the
students, from every part of the vast Empire, who had succeeded in
passing all other examinations. The Emperor himself presided, and
received the homage of successful candidates, seated upon a handsome
carved throne. Round the walls of the great court are tablets on which
are inscribed the whole of the classics. The old examination system
has been abolished, and already at Peking the very building where the
provincial examinations were held has been destroyed.
Before leaving Peking our host introduced us to the friend whom he had
found to act as our interpreter during our long journey from north-east
to south-west of the Empire. Mr. Ku was a young man of official family,
who had been trained at St. John’s College, Shanghai, and spoke English
well. He was essentially a scholar, of gentle and amiable manners,
honourable and guileless. During our five months together we never
found him lacking in tact or discretion, and we were able without
hesitation to place our affairs entirely in his hands. Fortunate is the
traveller who likes his companions better at the end of such a journey
than at the beginning!
[Illustration: BOXER]
[Illustration: KACHIN WOMAN]
Mr. Ku’s father had a narrow escape for his life, like many other
Chinese officials, during the troubles of 1900. He was seized one
day by Boxers, who prepared to kill him: when he asked why they were
doing this they said it was because he was a Christian. He assured
them he was not, but they refused to believe it, and it was only after
repeated remonstrances that they said they would put it to the proof.
This was done by means of lighting a piece of paper: if it burnt away
entirely, the Boxers said that would show he was not a Christian, but
if it didn’t, then he should be put to death. Happily the paper was
dry and burnt up, but the Boxers, although they spared life in this
case, demanded a heavy sum of money and a quantity of rice. Although
the Boxers began by being patriotic fanatics, they soon turned into
mere plunderers. The sketch gives the costume of a Peking Boxer, with
upraised hand making a military sign; but they had no regular uniform,
and merely wore red as a distinctive mark.
We only spent six days at Peking, as we felt we must hurry on, much as
we should have liked to spend weeks there instead of days.