Half-naked workmen are huddled round the tables, which are covered with little mugs about as large as teacups, each containing something different, hundreds of delicacies with sauces both bitter and sweet at once. Long thin sticks are used instead of forks, and the skill shown in the handling of them is simply astonishing. I have never seen people eat more daintily. A dinner of eight or nine courses can be had for about one farthing. With their chopsticks they pick out some of the solid dishes, seasoning them with four or five different sauces. The Chinese are the greatest gourmets in the world, for I notice that the ordinary meals of labourers are more complicated than the choicest menu of a French chef.

The end of the street is enclosed by a wall--the usual red wall--the inner defence of the Imperial city. Here stands the Western Gate, and the monumental quarter, with yellow tiled roofs, begins. In front of it is a sentry, the entrance to the garden being strictly prohibited.

My way is not in that direction, but to the north. In the centre of the park, which has recently been replanted, stands the cathedral, finished a few months ago.

The work of the Chinese Missions is written on one of the latest pages of universal history. The events of two years ago are still vividly impressed on our memories, when the few hundred Christians who had sought refuge at the Mission in Pei-tang seemed to be doomed. No one believed that they could stand the siege of the frantic mob, for, except a garden wall a few feet high, there were no means of defence. It was due to the most resolute courage and valour that the little flock did not surrender. Old and young, priests and soldiers, fought side by side in the breaches from morning to night.

During the weary weeks of the siege many fell under arms, and many more among the orphans and sisters of charity died of exhaustion.

The recent graves forming the small cemetery in the inner garden were dug to receive the bodies of these new martyrs.

But, after all, Christian faith triumphed over pagan hatred, and finally the hour of deliverance struck. And today Pei-tang and its cathedral stand finer and stronger than before, to the benefit of humanity and the glory of G.o.d.

III

THE NEW LEGATION QUARTERS

It is now a month since I arrived in Pekin. The autumn has pa.s.sed quickly--and October is the finest time during the whole year in the yellow capital, for the weather is mild and clear. In the morning it is cool, and frosts are not rare at night. But later in the day the skies are cloudless, and the sun is often as hot as in summer. As regards climate--which, by the way, is an important factor in the life and progress of a nation--Pekin is a bundle of contrasts. The summer is hot, the winter extremely cold, the spring wet, and the autumn very dry.

Since my arrival there has been no rain, but occasionally it has become cloudy, and as dark as if the sun were eclipsed. The wind, when blowing from the north, sweeps sand from the desert of Gobi before it, and shrouds the whole town in a veil as it were. This sand spreads over the whole atmosphere like a dense fog, through which one can hardly see a yard's distance. It penetrates windows, doors, even cracks, and buries the whole district like a stream of lava. After a sand-storm the sky clears, and becomes bluer than the blue dome of the Mediterranean, smooth and translucent as though cut out of a gigantic sapphire. This contrast between dull and bright weather seems to create two distinct towns; in the one all is gloomy, in the other all is bright. That is the reason why those who have described Pekin have either found everything sombre, or have looked upon it through rosy spectacles. The truth lies between the two extremes. I go so far as to say that each is correct--but only relatively.

The traveller who would describe Pekin ought to make daily notes of what he has seen and heard when he sees and hears it, and use light and shade as an artist on his canvas. He who adopts this method will be more successful than those who merely restrict themselves either to recording salient points, or matters of historical importance, or to advocating some political idea.

The longer I live within the walls of Pekin the more am I convinced that, in spite of her decadent condition, she is yet full of vitality and, like Constantinople, embodies a national ideal.

In the afternoon I stroll over to the international area and pay a visit to all the legations. My amiable guide, who was here during the siege, when so many of the defenders perished, can supply information as to many dark episodes of the Boxer rebellion, and shows me where the most serious attacks were made, how they bombarded the legations from the city wall over there, how they used to throw blazing torches on to the roofs of these houses, and how they tried to blow up that quarter.

Looking at the place now, it seems incredible that the garrison--a mere handful--should have been able to withstand the frenzied crowd; but one must not forget that it was a mob, not a disciplined army.

As to the French and English legations, the former was reduced nearly to ruins, while the latter suffered comparatively little damage, but lost more lives.

The so-called European quarter is a large area of about a mile and a half square, lying between the Imperial city and the Tartar wall, and crossed by the Rue des Legations.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LEGATION QUARTER "Long rows of caravans coming from the western frontier and Tibet" To face page 152]

I start on my round at the Legation Yamen. In front of the royal palace on the right are the new American barracks, before the gates of which a number of soldiers of every nationality are lounging. Opposite is the International Hospital, a two-storeyed building painted light blue; an uglier erection I have never seen, but I am pleased to find the interior arrangements excellent.

The Dutch and American legations came next, adjoining each other, as do also the Russian and English, but of these only the garden walls are visible. Architecturally the American legation is decidedly unattractive, and therefore it does not matter much that it is hidden from view, but the Russian and English legations are typical Chinese dwellings. The architecture of the latter is interesting, for the house itself belonged to one of the Imperial princes, and was built in a style worthy of his rank. On the opposite bank of the ca.n.a.l the Italian and j.a.panese concessions form a square. A new wall has been built quite recently, and is fortified at the corner by a turret. The German legation is on the other side of the Rue des Legations. The barracks have just been completed, and if they were built for vindictive reasons, Germany has more than attained her end, so hideous are they. Built in Gothic style, they are the most conspicuous of all, and utterly destroy the harmony of the Oriental forms around them. The Austro-Hungarian legation is still in course of erection, in the style of a villa with porticoes; its chief merit lies in its simplicity, but it would certainly have harmonized better with its surroundings had the architect adhered to the style of the old yamens. Though the walls and slender pillars may appeal to the aesthete, it reminds one of a castle of cards, which will easily collapse in future troubles.

The series of legations is closed by the Belgian. The Russo-Chinese and Shanghai Banks are also in the Rue des Legations, the former supported by Russian, the latter by English capital. Their operations spread far and wide.

Such are the main features of the so-called international territory, that famous and historic spot, the theatre of the recent Chinese troubles. Every inch of it was most gallantly defended by its feeble garrison, day and night, for many months. These heroes were decimated by the bullet, sickness, or famine.

The great distance between Europe and China was probably the reason why the outer world knew so little of the serious nature of the siege, and the isolation of the legations made matters worse.

At the time of my visit it was barely two years since it all happened, but, during that short time, a new city had arisen on the ruins of the European concession. To get a better view I ascend a bastion, and wherever I look busy workmen meet my eyes. The Powers seem to be vying with each other; one patronizes gables, another prefers towers, or adorns its walls with bastions; but all is with the view of overshadowing their neighbours. My eye was at first offended by the artistic shortcomings of these buildings, but now it is their practical defects that are conspicuous. It looks as if the oft-quoted and melancholy chaos which followed the victory of the Powers has found visible expression in this new quarter. There seems to be neither uniformity of plan nor advantage of position.

But this is not the only weak point of the Treaty of Chefoo. Its provisions fixed the war indemnity, established commercial treaties of dubious worth, and made a few concessions valuable only for the moment, and this at a time when the Powers were absolute masters and in a position to dictate reforms, not only of local and temporary importance, but of universal, historical, and moral value.

The Boxer movement of 1900 came as a great surprise, at any rate to the majority of the Powers, and during the outbreak the sole aim of some of the legations seemed to be to secure their own advantage and defeat the aspirations of the rest. This might partly explain how the most guilty persons escaped punishment, and the old state of affairs in China soon returned.

The foreign ministers came back and occupied their new quarters, protected by thicker walls, which the Boxers would have more difficulty in pulling down. I do not know whether I ought to take all I was told about these fortifications seriously, but the garden walls seemed to have been built in the belief that they were indestructible. A few hundred soldiers are kept here by the respective Powers to protect their subjects in case of war. They might suffice in the event of a street riot, but if this nation of four hundred millions should some day determine to act in unison, these walls and the ornamental sentries would, I am afraid, make a very poor defence. In fact, it is hardly to be believed that, if China were once more to attack the European legations, she would employ a mob for the purpose. It is more likely that she will wait until her army is reorganized and armed with modern rifles and Krupp guns.

The new quarter exhibits the same defects as the old. The walls, indeed, are a little higher and the barracks have additional wings, but they remain isolated as before.

It is always a difficult task to throw up defensive works within a city--even the value of the most efficient is questionable; but, if these precautionary measures were absolutely needful, it would certainly have been better to enclose the entire European quarter with a stronger common wall, as is the case with the Imperial city. This would have made it possible for the garrisons of the legations to defend any point attacked conjointly. And it would have had the further advantage that a really pretty, shady town would have been built in the Anglo-Indian style, amongst earthworks planted with trees, instead of a number of insanitary separate walled prisons.

Or would it not have been better to build the European town outside the city gate, between the ca.n.a.l and the railway, where the movement of Pekin is least felt? Neither money nor concessions were wanting, and, both for hygienic and strategical reasons, it would have been far better. The air is purer there, and, in the event of danger, the chances of escape or of obtaining a.s.sistance from without are far greater.

The present European quarter in Pekin reminds one of a town which has been rebuilt, after violent earthquakes, on the same spot and in the same way, on that most unsubstantial foundation--chance.

IV

THE TARTAR CITY

The outward appearance of the city, with the exception of the European quarter, is the same as of yore. The ground plan of Pekin is very regular, and is formed of two squares, one the Tartar, the other the Chinese town, each surrounded by a separate wall, with a total number of thirteen gates, with gigantic double-roofed towers.

The centre is occupied by the Imperial city, within which is the Purple or Forbidden City, and inside this we come at last to the Emperor's palaces, private mansions, villas, tea-houses, and temples. The Imperial Palace is itself intersected by gardens, lakes, and streams, and looks more like a city than a palace, nay, like a miniature picture of this whole-walled country.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENTRANCE TO THE FORBIDDEN CITY "The centre of this marvellous maze is the Emperor's sanctuary" To face page 158]

From the large gate a broad street leads through the Imperial and Tartar towns to the great Southern Gate, one of the strangest thoroughfares in the world. The innermost wall is set in a square of broad moats. Four arched marble bridges lead to the four gates. The jagged wall, the paG.o.da-like towers of the bastions, the arches of the bridges, all are decorated with finely carved dragons, as rigidly prescribed by law.

Walls, moats, towers, and palaces, are repeated in all parts of the gigantic palace; the walls of all buildings being painted red. The shape of the yellow-tiled roofs is that of booths. Everything is planned in accordance with traditions thousands of years old. The threshold must not be larger than that which Confucius crossed, nor must the door be wider than the length of the great teacher's arms.

Every detail of the dwelling, to the minutest ornament, has some symbolic or mythical significance; for instance, at the entrance one never fails to find the wall which tradition demands to protect the peaceful inhabitants from evil spirits, while the ceiling of the house must not be higher than any of the goblins would care to ascend.

In the same way the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g or embroidery of the dress of an official or courtier has its particular meaning. This likewise applies to private individuals, and the innermost chambers of their homes, simply because it is required by law.

It is this rigid system that makes China appear so uniform, at any rate outwardly. This same system, too, gives her her great interest from a psychological point of view.

There is hardly any nation or people, throughout the whole history of civilization, whose life has been so profoundly and lastingly influenced by doctrine as the population of the Yellow Empire has been by the teachings of Confucius. From the celestial altar (representing the centre of the universe), where only the Son of Heaven may worship his Father, down to each separate temple, yamen, and stone of sacrifice, everything expresses one and the same ethical idea. It is this gigantic moral system, with its organic life penetrating to the minutest detail, that keeps China strong, even in her present decadence, and makes Pekin, even amidst its ruins, one of the greatest cities on earth. It is the plan, or let us say conception, which makes us wonder. The metaphysical qualities of this people fascinate us; their ancient traditions are still their strongholds, and their old systems, however degenerate, the source of moral strength. But I hope to deal more fully elsewhere with the psychological side of China. At present I only want to give a hasty sketch of its capital.

One can scarcely imagine a more systematically laid out city than Pekin.

The throne is in the centre; thence radiates every street, thither leads every road. It is the focus of the city, the heart of the empire, but--forbidden ground. The man who sets foot therein forfeits his life, so sacred and inviolable is it. Within the second wall the Imperial Family and the Court reside, precious stones set in gold, as the bards say.

Next comes the so-called Imperial city. The extensive Lotus Lake, the long marble bridge, the Maisan hill, the summer residence of the Dowager Empress, are all contained in that vast area--a number of little towns whose wonders would take whole chapters to describe. Each of them has its own mysterious history.

There was a time when, among the cl.u.s.ters of the lotus, more blood flowed than water. Upon one of the islets stands a summer-house, a very homely building, looking as though its only purpose must be to shelter happiness; but fate made a most gloomy prison of it. There the young Emperor was confined, in anguish, like a criminal, and never knowing whether the morrow would find him alive or lying at the bottom of the lake.

Poor young Emperor! Though he has regained his liberty--if leaving the island for the palace walls can be called freedom--his mind is wrapped in darkness. His youthful dream of making his people happy has vanished for ever. His lofty ideals have crumbled to dust, and of his early counsellors, some are in exile, others in the eternal silence.

The new town residence of the Empress is along the south-eastern wall, and there are other houses enclosed in gardens, all exhibiting the same architectural uniformity--red walls and yellow roofs. The only decoration is the marble staircase with carved dragons. In the adjacent gardens are the quarters of the household staff, and close by the old Foreign Mission and the cathedral. The Mission exchanged those quarters for a fine site farther off, where it is now established.

The _Maisan_ (meaning "mount of coal") is an artificial hill in front of the princ.i.p.al Northern Gate. Its five peaks are adorned with fine summer residences of unequalled beauty, and roofed with enamelled tiles, displaying a number of the porcelain towers so familiar to us from our school-books.

Many versions have come down to posterity as to the origin of the _Maisan_, but I am inclined to think that originally it was erected for the same purpose as the walls round the gates--that of protection against evil spirits. My a.s.sumption is rather confirmed by the fact that in the grove extending along the side of the hill stands the great death-chamber, a hall supported on colossal pillars, wherein is deposited the coffin of a deceased Emperor. The funeral procession pa.s.ses through the large Northern Gate in front of the graves of the Emperors. In China, where everything has a meaning, it would be fallacious to a.s.sume that the _Maisan_ did not symbolize something, and the uncertainty and mystery only enhance the beauty of the evergreen groves of the place. It is like the Roman Testaccian Hill in this respect, the only interesting feature of whose barrenness lies in its mysterious origin.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TRIUMPHAL ARCH "The Maisan is an artificial wall in front of the princ.i.p.al Northern Gate" To face page 162]