We next inspected some embroidery shops, where specimens of wonderful work, both new and old, were to be seen. The latter come chiefly from the numerous pawnshops, the tall towers of which rise everywhere throughout the city; for they receive annually large quantities of old garments, sold by members of ancient but impoverished families who are forced to part with the wardrobes that have come down to them through many generations. Magnificent mandarins’ state costumes may be obtained for from forty to eighty or a hundred dollars. Some of the embroidery is undoubtedly antique and valuable; but a good deal of it sold as old consists of new and inferior substitutions and even of European‐manufactured imitations of the real article. This the white man in his innocence buys and goes on his way rejoicing, until some connoisseur among his female friends points out his error and leaves him abashed at his own ignorance.
Porcelain, jade, blackwood furniture, silk, bronze, and curio shops abound in the city. The contrast between the energetic, business‐like tradesmen of Canton, always ready to cater for the European market, and the phlegmatic shopkeepers of Pekin is very marked.
THE CANGUE
We now visited the Flowery Forest Monastery or Temple of the Five Hundred Genii, which is said to have been founded in A.D. 500, and which was rebuilt some forty years ago. It stands outside the western wall of the city. It comprises many buildings and courts; but the most interesting portion is the hall, which contains the images of the five hundred disciples of Buddha. The statues are life‐size. Their countenances are supposed to represent the supreme content of Nirvana; but their weird and grotesque expressions and the air of jollity and devil‐may‐careness on some of them is unintentionally ludicrous. Among the images is one said to represent Marco Polo, one of the earliest pioneers of discovery in the East. No one knows why the celebrated Italian traveller is included among the immortals.
A more interesting sight was the prison in the old city. On a stone outside the open gate sat a criminal weighted down with the cangue, a heavy board fastened round the neck. It prevents the luckless wearer from using his hands to feed himself or brush away the tormenting swarms of flies which settle on his face. He cannot reach his mouth, and must starve unless a relative or some charitable person can be found to give him food. As the cangue is never removed night or day he cannot lie down, but is forced to sit on the ground and prop himself against a wall and snatch what sleep he can in that uncomfortable and constrained position. I must say that this particular gentleman seemed very indifferent to his wooden collar. He was chatting pleasantly with some passers‐by in the street and turned his head to survey us with mild curiosity. The cangue, by the way, is only a minor penalty used for thieves, petty larcenists, and such small fry. For the punishment of graver crimes much more elaborate tortures have been reserved. As we passed into the prison we saw a few offenders chained to iron bars in the outer court. A Chinese warder unlocked a gate leading into a small yard crowded with prisoners, who rushed towards us and insolently demanded alms; for the Government waste no money in feeding their criminals who are obliged to rely on the kindness of the charitable. One particularly cheeky youth—a pickpocket, I was told—coolly demanded the cigar I was smoking. When I gave it to him he put it in his mouth and strutted up and down the yard to the amusement of his companions in misfortune. His gratitude was not overpowering, for he uttered some remarks, which my Cantonese‐speaking friend told me were particularly insulting. As the prisoners became very troublesome in their noisy demands, the warder pushed them back into the yard and shut the gate, having to rap some of them over the knuckles with his keys before he could do so. There were no especial horrors to be seen. The prisoners seemed cheerful enough; and none of the awful misery I had always associated with Chinese jails was apparent.
But when the Celestial authorities wish to punish an offender severely they have a varied and ingenious collection of tortures on hand. The ling‐chi, or death of a thousand cuts, is hardly to be surpassed for fiendish cruelty. The unfortunate criminal is turned over to the executioner, who stabs him everywhere with a sharp sword, carefully avoiding a vital spot. Then he cuts off fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, and legs in succession, and finally severs the head, if the unhappy wretch has not already expired. If the doomed man is possessed of money he can bribe the executioner to kill him at the first blow; and the subsequent mutilations are performed only on a lifeless corpse. Another ingenious device is to place the criminal naked in a net and trice it up tightly around him, until his flesh bulges out through the meshes. Then, wherever it protrudes the executioner slices it off with a sharp knife. The unhappy wretch is taken back to prison, released from the net and thrown into a cell. No attempt is made to staunch the blood or salve the wounds unless death is feared. This must be averted; for a week or so later he has to be brought out again and the process repeated. Along the river bank near Canton criminals were exposed in cages, through the top of which their heads protruded in such a fashion that the weight of the body was supported only by the chin and neck. The feet did not touch the bottom of the cage, but a sharp spike was placed to rest them on when the strain on the neck became unendurable. Here the poor wretches were left to expire of exhaustion or die of starvation. After such tortures beheading seems a merciful punishment.
When I considered the Chinaman’s innate love of cruelty, I could understand why the next spot we visited was a very popular place of worship and a favourite resort for all the loafers of the city. It was the Temple of Horrors. Along each side of the principal court ran sheds, divided by partitions. In them behind wooden palings was a weird collection of groups of figures modelled to represent the various punishments of the Buddhist hell. The sheds were dark and it was difficult to see the interiors plainly. But quite enough was visible. In one compartment a couple of horrible devils were sawing a condemned wretch in two. In another, demons were thrusting a man into a huge boiler. Judging from the agonised expression on his face, the water must have been uncomfortably warm. In a third, the condemned soul or body was being ground in a press. Others were being roasted before huge fires, stuck all over with knives, having their eyes gouged out, being torn limb from limb. I fancy that the artist who designed these groups could have commanded a large salary as Inventor of Tortures from the Chinese authorities of his day.