From the Mantchou town to the Old Blue Town is not more than half an hour’s walk, along a broad road, constructed through the large market, which narrowed the town. With the exception of the Lamaseries, which rise above the other buildings, you see before you merely an immense mass of houses and shops huddled confusedly together, without any order or arrangement whatever. The ramparts of the old town still exist in all their integrity; but the increase of the population has compelled the people by degrees to pass this barrier. Houses have risen outside the walls one after another until large suburbs have been formed, and now the extra-mural city is larger than the intra-mural.
We entered the city by a broad street, which exhibited nothing remarkable except the large Lamasery, called, in common with the
more celebrated establishment in the province of Chan-Si, the Lamasery of the Five Towers. It derives this appellation from a handsome square tower with five turrets, one, very lofty, in the centre and one at each angle.
Just beyond this the broad street terminated, and there was no exit but a narrow lane running right and left. We turned down what seemed the least dirty of these, but soon found ourselves in a liquid slough of mud and filth, black, and of suffocating stench—we had got into the Street of the Tanners. We advanced slowly and shudderingly, for beneath the mire lay hid, now a great stone, over which we stumbled, now a hole, into which we sank. To complete our misfortune, we all at once heard before us deafening cries and shouts, indicating that along the tortuosities of the lane in which we were horsemen and carts were about to meet us. To draw back, or to stand aside, were equally impossible, so that our only resource was to bawl on our own account, and, advancing, take our chance. At the next turning we met the cavalcade, and something extremely disagreeable seemed threatening us, when, upon sight of our camels, the horses of the other party took fright, and, turning right round, galloped off in utter confusion, leaving the way clear before us. Thus, thanks to our beasts of burden, we were enabled to continue our journey without giving the way to any one, and we at last arrived, without any serious accident, in a spacious street, adorned on each side with fine shops.
We looked about for an inn, but fruitlessly; we saw several inns, indeed, but these were not of the kind we sought. In the great towns of Northern China and Tartary each inn is devoted to a particular class of travellers, and will receive no other. “The Corndealers’ Arms” inn, for example, will not admit a horse dealer, and so on. The inns which devote themselves to the entertainment of mere travellers are called the taverns of the Transitory Guests. We were pausing, anxiously looking about for one of these, when a young man, hastening from an adjacent shop, came up to us: “You seek an inn, gentlemen travellers,” said he; “suffer me to guide you to one; yet I scarcely know one in the Blue City worthy of you. Men are innumerable here, my Lords Lamas; a few good, but, alas! most bad. I speak it from my heart. In the Blue City you would with difficulty find one man who is guided by his conscience; yet conscience is a treasure! You Tartars, you, indeed, know well what conscience is. Ah! I know the Tartars well! excellent people, right-hearted souls! We Chinese are altogether different—rascals, rogues. Not one Chinaman in ten thousand heeds conscience. Here, in this Blue City, everybody, with the merest exceptions, makes it his business to
cheat the worthy Tartars, and rob them of their goods. Oh! it’s shameful!”
And the excellent creature threw up his eyes as he denounced the knavery of his townsmen. We saw very clearly, however, that the direction taken by the eyes thus thrown up was the camel’s back, whereon were two large cases, which our disinterested adviser no doubt took to contain precious merchandise. However, we let him lead us on and chatter as he pleased. When we had been wandering about under his escort for a full hour, and yet had reached no inn, we said to him: “We cannot think of troubling you further, since you yourself seem not to know where we may find that which we need.” “Be perfectly easy, my lords,” replied he; “I am guiding you to an excellent, a superexcellent hotel. Don’t mention a word as to troubling me; you pain me by the idea. What! are we not all brothers? Away with the distinction between Tartar and Chinese! True, the language is not the same, nor the dress; but men have but one heart, one conscience, one invariable rule of justice. Just wait one moment for me, my lords; I will be with you again before you can look round,” and so saying he dived into a shop on the left. He was soon back with us, making a thousand apologies for having detained us. “You must be very tired, my lords; one cannot be otherwise when one is travelling. ’Tis quite different from being with one’s own family.” As he spoke, we were accosted by another Chinese, a ludicrous contrast with our first friend, whose round shining smiling face was perfectly intense in its aspect of benevolence. The other fellow was meagre and lanky, with thin, pinched lips and little black eyes, half buried in the head, that gave to the whole physiognomy a character of the most thorough knavery. “My Lords Lamas,” said he, “I see you have just arrived! Excellent! And you have journeyed safely. Well, well! Your camels are magnificent; ’tis no wonder you travel fast and securely upon such animals. Well, you have arrived: that’s a great happiness. Se-Eul,” he continued, addressing the Chinese who had first got hold of us, “you are guiding these noble Tartars to an hotel. ’Tis well! Take care that the hotel is a good one, worthy of the distinguished strangers. What think you of the ‘Tavern of Eternal Equity?’” “The very hotel whither I was leading the Lords Lamas.” “There is none better in the empire. By the way, the host is an acquaintance of mine. I cannot do better than accompany you and recommend these noble Tartars to his best care. In fact, if I were not to go with you, I should have a weight upon my heart. When we are fortunate enough to meet brothers who need our aid, how can we do too much for them, for we are all brothers! My lords, you see
this young man and myself; well, we two are clerks in the same establishment, and we make it our pride to serve our brothers the Tartars; for, alas! in this dreadful city there is but too little virtue.”
Any one, hearing their professions of devoted zeal, would have imagined these two personages to have been the friends of our childhood; but we were sufficiently acquainted with Chinese manners to perceive at once that we were the mark of a couple of swindlers. Accordingly, when we saw inscribed on a door, “Hotel of the Three Perfections; transitory guests on horse and camel entertained, and their affairs transacted with infallible success,” we at once directed our course up the gateway, despite the vehement remonstrances of our worthy guides, and rode down a long avenue to the great square court of the hotel. The little blue cap worn by the attendants indicated that we were in a Turkish establishment.
This proceeding of ours was not at all what the two Chinese desired; but they still followed us, and, without appearing disconcerted, continued to act their parts. “Where are the people of the hotel,” cried they, with an immense air; “let them prepare a large apartment, a fine, clean apartment? Their Excellencies have arrived, and must be suitably accommodated.” One of the principal waiters presented himself, holding by his teeth a key, in one hand a broom, and in the other a watering-pot. Our two protectors immediately took possession of these articles. “Leave everything to us,” said they; “it is we who claim the honour of personally waiting upon our illustrious friends; you, attendants of the hotel, you only do things by halves, actuated as you are merely by mercenary considerations.” And thereupon they set to work sprinkling, sweeping, and cleaning the room to which the waiter guided us. When this operation was concluded, we seated ourselves on the khang; the two Chinese “knew themselves better than to sit by the side of our Eminent Distinctions,” and they accordingly squatted on the floor. As tea was being served, a young man, well attired and of exceedingly elegant address, came into the room, carrying by the four corners a silk handkerchief. “Gentlemen Lamas,” said the elder of our previous companions, “this young man is the son of our principal, and doubtless has been sent by his father to inquire after your health, and whether you have so far journeyed in peace.” The young man placed his handkerchief upon the table that stood before us. “Here are some cakes my father has sent to be eaten with your tea. When you have finished that meal, he entreats you will come and partake of an humble repast in our poor dwelling.” “But why wear your