The quieter and less frequented streets of the city were not so bad; narrow, unpaved byways fringed on either side with high white walls of brick and plaster, enclosing the houses of well-to-do merchants, or the better class of tradesmen; quaint little dwellings, curiously carved and gorgeous with blue, vermilion, and gold façades, having neat flower-gardens in front, and willow-fringed ponds. One occasionally caught a glimpse, through an open porch, of the proprietor, his day’s work over, clad in a light and airy costume consisting of a pair of drawers, lazily watching the gold fish in the clear lily-covered water, or studying his Pekin Gazette, the oldest daily paper, by the way, in existence. Occasionally Madame was visible sharing the joys of her lord and master’s leisure-hours, but not often; for when you visit a Chinaman he seldom presents you to his wife, although the latter is not kept at all secluded or under lock and key. A Chinese woman has as much liberty as an English one, maritally speaking, though, as I have said, one does not often meet them. Most are said to make very good wives; unlike most eastern and other nations, they have not the love of intrigue so inherent as a rule in the female sex. A Chinaman may have, if he will, one hundred concubines, but only one wife, who is the ruler and head of his household.
One is much struck with the good looks of the Pekin women when compared with those of Southern China. Those most frequently met with are Tartars, who do not, as a rule, contract and deform their feet. It is only in the Chinese city that one meets poor creatures rolling about the streets with their arms extended, like ships in distress. In some parts of China a bride’s value is reckoned by the smallness of her foot. The operation of contracting it, which is performed in early youth, is not painful. Four of the toes are bent under the sole of the foot, to which they are firmly pressed, and to which they grow together, the great toe being left in its natural state. The fore part of the foot is then compressed with strong bandages so that it shoots upwards and appears like a large lump at the instep, where it forms as it were part of the leg. The lower part of the foot is sometimes not more than four inches long by one inch broad! This practice is, however, said to be dying out, even among the Chinese.
The ornament of which the Celestial is so proud, his pigtail, was in reality introduced into China by the Tartars, who as Mahometans tried to force the Koran on to the whole of China at the commencement of their Dynasty. To this the Chinese would not submit, but an edict was promulgated by the first Tartar ruler that every subject should shave his head in Mahometan fashion, leaving only the small tuft of hair by which the Faithful are supposed to be drawn up to Heaven when they die. The Chinese, artistic in all they do, converted the ridiculous and shaggy tuft of hair into a thick tail, the careful plaiting of which is now the Chinaman’s greatest delight and pride. It is, moreover, a very suitable head-dress for Pekin. We found brushing the head even twice a day quite useless, for the hair was thick with dust ten minutes after the operation.
The coinage current in Pekin is to a stranger more than confusing, consisting as it does of “cash” and bar silver. With the former, small coins of which about fifty go to a halfpenny, one has little to do. A hole is stamped through the middle for greater convenience, and one frequently sees in Pekin two or three necklaces of these worthless, but weighty, pieces slung round a man’s neck, who is struggling along under the value of perhaps eightpence or ninepence, English money. The silver is in bars, and cut off as wanted. The tael is not a coin, but a weight of silver made up in paper packets of one, three, or four taels. A mint has, I believe, been opened in Pekin since our visit, and a proper coinage will be issued in a few months——no small advantage to future visitors, for the difficulty of obtaining “change” at present is somewhat great.
It is curious how little attention a European attracts when walking in the streets of Pekin. Although there are many probably in that great city who have never seen a white face, they evinced but little curiosity when we visited the gambling-hells, opium-shops, and other dens of a like description, and we passed through them unmolested, if not unobserved. Here and there in the lower quarters of the capital, however, the natives evidently preferred our room to our company. The words “Yang Qweitze” fell with uncomfortable frequency upon the ear, and on one occasion a shower of stones and mud hastened our retreat from a house in the slums which our guide had imprudently allowed us to enter and take stock of. As a general rule, however, the natives were civil and obliging enough, and in the more aristocratic eating and tea-houses we were frequently invited to partake of a cup of tea free gratis by the proprietor.
The “Jeunesse Dorée” of Pekin are gay dogs. Theatres, restaurants, and tea-houses abound, and the more populous quarters of the city are alive with revelry, not to say riot, till four or five o’clock a.m. A good deal more champagne and other alcoholic liquors are consumed than the cup that is popularly supposed to cheer without inebriating. Intoxication is a vice to which the Chinese masher (if I may so call him) is particularly prone, although a very wrong impression exists in Europe as to the disgusting animal food Chinamen are said to be in the habit of eating. Cats, dogs, and even rats are, by many in England, supposed to be devoured promiscuously, but this is not the case. Dogs and rats are eaten, no doubt; in fact I have myself seen the dishes in question, and very good they looked! But it must be remembered that the rats are fed solely on farinaceous food, and carefully brought up by hand. They are in reality far cleaner than our domesticated English pig. The “chow” dog is a race of itself, and the only one ever eaten by the better classes. The lower orders of course have to put up with what they can get. A good dog or rat is as expensive a luxury in Pekin as venison or turtle at home!
Strong drink leads to high play, and gambling in various forms is much in vogue among the gilded youth of Pekin. Cards are the general mode, but a sport at which enormous sums are won and lost is cricket-fighting. The greatest care is lavished on these little animals, and large sums of money paid for them. The trainers are brought up to the profession, and, strange as it may seem, a good cricket in Pekin is almost as valuable to his owner as a useful racehorse in England. The insects are fought in little boxes like miniature rat pits. There is sometimes intense excitement for weeks before an event in which two well-known crickets are to compete. Game-cocks, pigeons, and even quail are also fought, but the most popular sport is undoubtedly cricket-fighting. It is probably also the most ancient of them all.
We strolled into a doctor’s shop one evening in the slums——a dirty, gloomy little den——its grimy walls covered with phials of strange shapes and cruel-looking instruments, while suspended from the ceiling hung a number of dried reptiles and animals which looked weird and uncanny in the dim, uncertain light. In a dark recess, and almost invisible in the gloom, sat the doctor, a large book before him, his wizened old face just visible in the rays of a flickering oil wick at his side. It reminded one of the first act in “Faust,” and one instinctively looked around for Mephistopheles. Though our guide informed us that this was one of the most successful physicians in Pekin, his practice did not seem extensive. I procured with difficulty the following Chinese prescription, though for what ailment it is intended I am ignorant:——
Decoction of centipedes, one frog and three cockroaches, ten grains calomel, three grains morphia, fifteen grains quinine!
Alas! for the poor patient who had to swallow it. Surely the deadliest disease would be preferable to a mixture of cockroach and calomel!