We rode slowly on the whole afternoon throughfields of grain, pretty villages asleep in the sun, with no sign of life in them but beggars and dogs lying huddled in the dusty road, under the shade of wall or shed, sleeping away the hot, silent hours in indolent content. It seemed at times as if we should never reach Pekin, though the mountains beyond it looked provokingly close in the bright clear atmosphere. The heat was intense, but a cool breeze now and then sprung up, and made it not unpleasant travelling as we rode through some of the prettiest scenery it has ever been my lot to look upon. The golden fields of oats and barley, the pretty villages dotted here and there over the plain, the ruddy, healthy-looking peasantry at work gathering in the harvest, and, here and there, the country-seat of some wealthy Mandarin, with its broad avenues, willow-fringed lake, and deer park, wore a happy, civilized look strangely at variance with one’s preconceived notions of the remoter parts of the Celestial Empire. Had it not been for the quaint pagodas and temples resplendent in crimson and gold carvings that we passed every mile or so, one might have fancied oneself in some picturesque corner of far away England.
One circumstance alone considerably marred our enjoyment of the lovely scenery——to wit, the streams of beggars who towards evening came out by hundreds from the holes and corners in which they had been lying during the heat of the day. A more importunate or determined set of wretches I never saw. Ranging from the ages of five to fifty, half naked and covered with sores, the wretches refused to be driven off, and insisted on accompanying us in unpleasant proximity——some of them for miles. Now and anon one would run forward, and kneeling, beat his head upon the ground——an operation called in China the “Koo-Too.” Passing through one of the villages, I fairly lost my temper, and turning round, shook my stick at the yelling, dancing ruffians, who, much to the amusement of the villagers, almost barred our progress. The effect was magical. In a second their demeanour changed, and what had been a crowd of cringing, supplicating wretches turned to a hooting, menacing crowd. Things looked awkward at first, and I thought, for a few moments, we were in for an ugly row. Mud and stones were showered on us freely, and one gaunt leprous-looking individual, half naked,ran up on his crutches and seized my donkey’s bridle. Seeing from the indifferent and half-amused expression on the bystanders’ faces that we should get no help fromthem, I thought discretion the better part of valour, and scattered a handful of cash among our persecutors, which had the effect of slowly dispersing them. Thiscontretemps, trivial as it was, showed the danger of ever for a moment annoying the people in the country we were about to travel through. Though good-tempered and hospitable, the Northern Chinaman has but a very poor idea of a European, English or otherwise. Indeed, I doubt if the majority of the peasantry had ever heard of England.
The approach to Pekin from Tungchow is anything but imposing, and we were rather disappointed at our first sight of the celestial city. The country for a mile or so before reaching the gates is so densely wooded that we did not know we had reached the capital till we found ourselves actually under its massive crenellated walls. The latter are surmounted by lofty square towers which, with their bright apple-green porcelainroofs and gaudy façades relieve to a certain extent the barren appearance of the sandy waste that surrounds Pekin. Not a roof or tower of the city is visible from here, nothing but the high rugged walls which, notwithstanding their great age, are in good repair. There was nothing to tell one that on the other side of these there lay a place almost as large as Paris in area and population. Nothing but the hoarse, subdued murmur, confused and indistinct, that hangs over every great city.
A few hundred yards brought us to the gate of the Tartar city, and, ye gods! what a city! Upon first entering, it seemed as if a dense fog had suddenly descended upon one, but a look back at the bright sunshine outside the gates soon dispelled the illusion, and explained the mystery: it was nothing but dust, the black, fine, and searching dust, for which Pekin is famous. Everything was coated with it. One breathed it in with every inhalation, till eyes, mouth, and nose were choked up, and breathing became almost an impossibility. No one seemed to mind it much, though our donkeys laboured through it nearly knee-deep.
We rode for some distance along the filthy, dusty streets. There is no rule of the road in Pekin, and it took one all one’s time to steer safely through the carts, sedans, mule litters, and camel caravans which thronged the streets. At length we turned into the principal thoroughfare, a broad unpaved street, raised in the centre, on either side of which one saw a long vista of low roofed houses, scrubby trees, and gaudy shop-signs, lost in the distance in a cloud of dust. We were in Pekin at last.
In Pekin, but apparently a long way yet from our destination, theHôtel de Pékin; and judging from our small guide’s very erratic movements, we were not likely for some time to reach that friendly hostelry, which is kept by an enterprising Frenchman, M. ————. The disagreeable suspicion that our guide had lost his way became a certainty, when turning down a narrow by-lane, he brought us up all standing at the door of a filthy tea-house. It was not a pleasant predicament. Imagine a Central African suddenly turned loose in the streets of London, and you have our position——with this difference, that the Africanwould have had the pull over us in the shape of a friendly policeman to take him to the station. Here, in this city of nearly two million inhabitants, it seemed unlikely enough that we should come across any of the English-speaking inhabitants, who number fifty to sixty at the most.
Threats of punishment and vengeance on the small boy were useless. He simply seated himself, and calling for a cup of tea, informed us we must find our way ourselves, he did not know it——at least that is what we inferred from his gestures, which were disrespectful in the extreme. With a lively recollection of our escape of the afternoon, we did not care to risk another disturbance, so, resigning ourselves to circumstances, dismounted and called for tea.
It was not a pleasant half-hour, for we were surrounded in less than five minutes by a crowd of the most insolent, dirtiest ruffians imaginable. We had evidently been brought to one of the very lowest quarters of the town, and were not sorry to have left our watches in the carts. With the exception of our revolvers and a few cash they wouldnot have been much the richer for robbing us. I should be sorry to have much to do with the inhabitants of the Chinese capital. There is no more obliging and hospitable being than the Chinese peasant, no more insolent, arrogant thief than the lower order of Pekinese. The victory of the imperial troops over the French in Tonquin is, in a great measure, responsible for the insolence displayed by the inhabitants of Pekin towards Europeans. Insults are perpetrated almost daily, and in the open streets, for which there is no redress, and it is only necessary to go for a very short walk in the streets of the capital to see that the lesson taught the Celestials by the allied troops in 1860 has long since been forgotten.
We should probably have had to pass the night in this unsavoury den, had not a European passed and by the greatest luck caught sight of us through the narrow gateway. Our deliverer, Mr. P., an American missionary, himself escorted us through a labyrinth of crowded streets and squares to Legation Street. We should certainly never have found our way otherwise, for there were no outward and visible signs even here of European inhabitants,till just before reaching the hotel, we passed the French Embassy, and saw, through an open gateway, a spacious shady garden with smooth-shaven lawns, cedars, and fountains, while over the doorway, in large gold letters on a vermilion ground, were the words“Légation de France.”A couple of hundred yards further on we pulled up at the door of ourcaravanserai. Thanking and taking leave of our friend, we entered the building, and were not sorry to find ourselves in the cool, grey-tiled, flower-bordered courtyard of the hotel; where a whisky and soda with plenty of ice washed the dust out of our throats and refreshed us not a little after our long and somewhat eventful ride.
The baggage arrived an hour after, and after a bath and change we felt well disposed to do justice to the excellent dinner provided for us by M. ————, the repast being graced by the presence of his wife, pretty Madame ————, and her sister. Sitting out after dinner in the little moonlit courtyard redolent of heliotrope andmignonette, one might have fancied oneself hundreds of miles from the dusty, ill-smelling city, and its barbaric population. The smellsdid not, thank goodness, penetrate here; and for the first time since leaving Tientsin, we thoroughly enjoyed an after-dinner cigar, not a little relieved that the starting-point, at any rate, of our long land journey had been safely reached.