From Pekin to Calais by Land

by Harry De Windt

“Two deep cuts over each eye commenced the operation. Gashes which turned great pieces of flesh over, and left the bone exposed. Then a cut down each cheek, and a deeper one across each shoulder, nearly but not quite severing the arm from its socket. A circular cut to the bone in each upper arm and fore-arm followed, and then, stepping back to get more scope, the executioner hacked off the right hand with one blow. A large piece of flesh was then cut or rather dug out of each thigh, and from over each knee, and the flesh torn off both kneecaps. The calves of the legs were then cut off.

“Up till now a straight heavy sword had been the weapon used. The human devil who acted as executioner wielding it with as much ease and dexterity as if he had been carving a fowl. The sword was now put aside, and a thin-bladed knife, about a foot long, driven in to the hilt, under the right breast-bone, the executioner working it slowly round and round while his assistant fanned the victim with a large palm-leaf fan for the double purpose of keeping the flies off, and hiding the contortions of the poor wretch’s face, who was not yet dead, as evinced by the twitching of the fingers of his remaining hand. Ten or twelve seconds more of this diabolical torture, and the victim was cut down from the cross, to fall, inert and helpless, on his knees and face. He was then decapitated and the sentence completed.”

These barbarous and disgusting proceedings seem the more awful when we consider that the poor wretch whose execution I have described was not the actual author of the crime for which he suffered. He was what is known in China as a “substitute.” There are many in this strange land, who for a small sum of money will cheerfully die for the pleasure of two or three days spent in dissipation and riot. The murderer himself was probably looking on with the crowd, unmoved at what should by rights have been his own execution.

There are other Chinese punishments quite as revolting as the Ling Chi, which do not, however, necessarily end in death. A very common one (to be seen almost daily in the streets of Pekin) is the “Cangue,” two large pieces of wood, each with a semicircular hole in the middle, which are worn round the neck. The hands are placed at right angles through other holes in the board, which weighs from sixty to two hundred pounds according to circumstances. This is worn from three days to two, or even three, months according to the nature of the crime. The “Cage” is another very common punishment, and is used for minor offences. The wretched occupant of this can neither sit, stand, nor lie down. Prisoners are kept in this position for a period varying from a week to a month. In the latter case they are usually rendered cripples for life. Another favourite punishment (often used to punish adultery) is pulling out the hand and toe nails, teeth, eye-lashes, and nostrils; but perhaps the most painful of any is the “Wire Shirt,” a thin wire garment made to fit the body so tightly that small pieces of skin are pressed through every aperture. A sharp razor is then passed over these outside, so that when the shirt is removed the victim from head to waist is one piece of raw quivering flesh.

Many others could I cite, but enough of this unsavoury subject. China is full of contradictions, and none are more striking than the cruelty and kindness of its population, for there exists no kinder-hearted or more liberal being than the Chinaman. There are, of course, exceptions; the rebel Yeh, for instance, who was degraded by the Emperor for treachery in 1857, when brought to Calcutta, where he died, confessed to having executed more than 70,000 souls while he was in office.

We rode slowly on the whole afternoon through fields 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 from them, 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. This contretemps, 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 porcelain roofs 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.