The Tartar city, in shape also a parallelogram, with the longer sides north and south, is surrounded by a much more imposing wall, which if vigorously defended would prove a truly formidable obstacle to any army unprovided with a powerful siege train. It is forty feet high, fifty feet broad at the top, and sixty‐four feet thick at the base, and consists of two masonry walls, made of enormous bricks as solid as stone, that on the external face being twelve feet thick, the interior one eight feet, the space between them filled with clay, rammed in layers of from six to nine inches.[4] A practicable breach might be effected by the concentrated fire of heavy siege guns, for shells planted near the top of the wall would probably bring down bricks and earth enough to form a ramp. From the outside seven gateways lead into the Chinese city, six into the Tartar, while communication between the two is maintained by three more. They can be closed by enormously thick, iron‐studded wooden gates, which in ordinary times are shut at night. The Japanese effected an entrance into the Tartar city by blowing in one of these. At the corners of the walls and over each gateway are lofty brick towers several stories high, the intervals between them being divided by buttresses. These towers are comparatively fragile, and at the taking of Pekin those attacked suffered considerably from the shell fire of the field guns of the Allies. Outwards from the base of the walls a broad open space is left.
The Tartar City is by far the more important. It holds most of the temples, the residences of the upper and wealthier classes, the important buildings and larger shops. In the centre of it is the Imperial city, in shape an irregular square, enclosed by a high wall seven miles in circumference, the top of which is covered with yellow tiles. Here are found the public buildings and the houses of the official mandarins; and in its heart lies the Purple or Forbidden City, the residence of the Emperor and his Court. All the buildings inside the limits of the Imperial city are roofed with gleaming yellow tiles, that being the sacred colour. To the south‐east, near the wall of the Chinese city, lies the Legation quarter, where most of the European residents live.
The only high ground in Pekin consists of two small eminences, just inside the northern boundary of the Imperial city. One, facing the gateway, is known as Coal Hill. Tradition declares it to consist of an enormous quantity of coal, accumulated in former times to provide against a threatened siege. It is covered with trees, bushes, and grass. On the summit is a pavilion, from which an excellent view over all Pekin is obtained. At one’s feet the yellow roofs of the buildings in the Imperial and Forbidden cities blaze in the sun like gold. To the right is the other small tree‐clad hill, on which stands the quaintly shaped Ming Pagoda. Below it, to the right of the Imperial city, lies a gleaming expanse of water, the Lotos Lake, crossed by a picturesque white marble bridge, with strange, small, circular arches. Near it is the Palace of the Empress‐Dowager. To the south of the sacred city is the Legation quarter, where the European‐looking buildings of the residences of the Foreign Ministers and the other alien inhabitants seem curiously out of keeping with their surroundings. Far away the high, many‐storied towers over the gateways between the Tartar and the Chinese city rise up from the long line of embattled wall. Looking down on it from this height Pekin is strangely picturesque, with a sea of foliage that surges between the buildings; and yet on descending into the streets one wonders what has become of the trees with which the city seemed filled. The fact is that they are extremely scattered, one in one courtyard, one in another, and in consequence are scarcely remarked from the level. The Palace, the Legations, and the towers are the only buildings that stand up prominently among the monotonous array of low roofs, for the houses are almost invariably only one‐storied.
The Tartar City is pierced by broad roads running at right angles to the walls. From them a network of smaller lanes leads off, usually extremely narrow and always unsavoury, being used as the dumping‐ground of all the filth and refuse of the neighbouring houses. The main streets even are unpaved and ill‐kept. The centre portion alone is occasionally repaired in a slovenly fashion, apparently by heaping on it fresh earth taken from the sides, which have consequently become mere ditches eight or nine feet below the level of the middle causeway and the narrow footpaths along the front of the houses. After heavy rain these fill with water and are transformed into rushing rivers. Occasionally on dark nights a cart falls into them, the horse unguided by a sleepy driver, and the occupants are drowned. Such a happening in the principal thoroughfares of a large and populous city seems incredible. I could scarcely believe it until I was once obliged almost to swim my pony across a main street with the water up to the saddle‐flaps, and this after only a few hours’ rain. A Chinaman, by the way, will never rescue a drowning man, from the superstition that the rescuer will always meet with misfortune from the hand of the one he has saved.
The houses are mostly one story high, dingy and squalid. The shops, covered with gaudy red and gold sign‐boards, have little frontage but much depth, and display to the public gaze scarcely anything of the goods they contain. All along the principal streets peddlers establish themselves on the narrow side‐walks, spread their wares on the ground about them, and wait with true Oriental patience for customers. The houses of the richer folk are secluded within courtyards, and cannot be seen from the public thoroughfares.
On the whole, Pekin from the inside is not an attractive city; and as the streets in dry weather are thick with dust that rises in clouds when a wind blows, and in wet are knee‐deep in mud where not flooded, they do not lend themselves to casual strolling. The broad tops of the walls are much preferable for a promenade. Access to them is gained by ramps at intervals. They are clean, not badly paved though often overgrown with bushes, and afford a good view over the surrounding houses, and in the summer offer the only place where a cooling breeze can be found.
Comfortably installed in the Hôtel du Nord, we determined to devote our first afternoon in Pekin to a visit to the quarter of most pressing, though temporary, interest, the Legations, on which the thoughts of the whole civilised world had been concentrated during their gallant defence against a fanatical and cowardly foe. As the distance was short, we set out on foot. The courtyard of the hotel opens on to the long street that runs through the Tartar city from the Ha‐ta‐man Gate, leading into the Chinese city. As the wall was close at hand, we ascended it by one of the ramps or inclined ways that lead to the top, and entered the tower above the gateway. It was a rectangular three‐storied building with the usual sloping gabled roofs and wide, upturned eaves of Chinese architecture. The interior was bare and empty. The lower room was wide and lofty, the full breadth and depth of the tower, and communicating with the floor above by a steep ladder. From the large windows of the upper stories a fine view over both cities was obtained. We looked down on the seething crowds passing along Ha‐ta‐man Street and away to where, above the Legation quarter, the flags of the Allies fluttered gaily in proud defiance to the tall yellow roofs of the Imperial palace close by. Descending, we emerged upon the broad paved road that ran along the top of the wall, and found it a pleasant change from the close, fetid streets. The side towards the Chinese city, the houses of which run up to the foot of the wall, is defended by a loopholed and embrasured parapet. We soon found ourselves over the Legation quarter and looked down on the spot where the besieged Europeans had so long held their assailants at bay. A broad ditch or nullah with walled sides, which during the rains drains the Tartar city, ran towards the wall on which we stood, passing beneath our feet through a tunnel in it, which could be closed by an iron grating. This was the famous water‐gate by which the Anglo‐Indian troops had entered, first of the Allies, to the relief of the besieged. The nullah was crossed by several bridges, over one of which passes Legation Street, along which we had ridden in our rickshas that morning. On the left bank of the nullah, looking north, stands the English Legation, surrounded by a high wall enclosing well‐wooded grounds. Opposite it, on the right bank, is the Japanese Legation, similarly enclosed. During the siege the two were connected by a wall built across the watercourse, which is generally dry, and they thus formed the front face of the defence. A portion of the city wall, cut off by breastworks on the summit, became the rear face, which was held by the Americans, who were attacked along the top of the wall itself. The French, German, and Belgian Legations lay to the right and rear of the Japanese; while the Russian and American stood between the British Legation and the wall. All around the limits of the defence were acres of wrecked and burnt Chinese houses, destroyed impartially by besiegers and besieged.
FRONT FACE OF THE DEFENCES OF THE LEGATIONS