From the Arctic Ocean to the Yellow Sea

by Julius M. Price

At last we reached the principal entrance, a huge tunnel-like archway through the thickness of the walls themselves. With difficulty, and advancing but very slowly through the throng of people, we made our way in, and I found myself in a vast open square paved with immense slabs of stone. This square was surrounded on all four sides by the city walls, archways through them leading to the different quarters—one to the Chinese city; another, which was closed, to the imperial city; and in front of me the principal entrance of all, the famous Tchien-Men gate, leading into the Tartar city. And what an entrance! I don’t think I ever in my life saw anything which made a more overpowering and indescribable impression on me than did this huge archway, surmounted by its immense donjen-like temple; it was more like a vision of ancient Babylon than anything I had ever expected to see in the Celestial Empire. One seemed so absolutely insignificant in comparison to this vast monument of a so distant past, that it produced in me a feeling akin to awe as I passed under the walls which had witnessed so many wonderful scenes and echoed to so many hundreds of generations.

It would be almost impossible to describe the strange semi-barbaric crowd which I saw around me. Accustomed though I was beginning to get to the wonders of the Far East, I felt that Peking was the most wonderful of all. It was almost like stepping back into the Middle Ages to find one’s self in such surroundings. The wonderful impression caused by the first view of the entrance to the Celestial city is, however, rudely dispelled as soon as its portals are passed, for all illusion immediately vanishes. The abominations of the northern cities are here magnified, for I don’t think I was ever in a more hideously dirty place than Peking. In fact, to say it is dirty is but to describe it mildly, for I can safely assert that one does not know what dust and dirt really are unless one has been to Peking.

CHAPTER XXVII.
PEKING.

Exciting times—A chat with Sir John Walsham—The Chinese city—Horrible scenes—Social life at the Legations in Peking—Lady Walsham’s “At homes”—The hardest-worked man in the East—Interesting evening with Sir Robert Hart—His account of his life.

Peking, though perhaps from its general appearance the last place in the world where one would expect to find a good European hotel, can boast of a really fair hostellerie—fortunately for such travellers as find their way to this out-of-the-way city; and after the long and dusty ride through the crowded streets, it may be imagined what a relief it is to find one’s self in this welcome oasis. The Hotel de Pékin, as it is somewhat humorously called, is part of a large general store kept by a genial Frenchman, M. Taillieu, who many years ago came out to the Far East to make his fortune, and has ended by settling down in the Celestial capital as a sort of purveyor to the different Legations. Travellers are not numerous here, so the hotel is but a sort of annexe of the store; still, the accommodation was all that could be desired, and the living, which was a kind of family table-d’hôte, was excellent, and fairly cheap considering.

I happened to arrive in the city at a particularly exciting time, just after the anti-European riots and murders on the Yangste, and the air was full of disquieting rumours of approaching troubles. In fact, on the very day I reached Peking the walls of the various European compounds had been covered with placards calling on the people to rise that night and exterminate the “foreign devils.” Nothing, however, came of it, fortunately, and the night passed without the slightest indication of any hostile feeling on the part of the inhabitants. As a matter of fact, had anything occurred I should probably not now be writing this, for the Europeans in Peking are in the unenviable position of the proverbial “rat in a hole;” as, whatever resistance they might offer were they attacked after nightfall, the result would be absolutely inevitable, as no outer help could reach them. At eight every night the city gates are closed, and as the telegraph wires are outside the walls, all communication with civilization is thus completely severed.

Of course my first duty was to call at the British Legation and pay my respects to Sir John Walsham, our Minister to the Court of Peking. I had already heard a lot about the magnificence of the palace which represents Great Britain in the capital of the Celestial Empire, but I was unprepared for the gorgeous temple-like structure standing in a spacious compound into which I was ushered. It was like a big work of art, and in no way spoilt by the evidences of female taste and handiwork I saw on all sides in the luxurious reception-rooms.

Although, beyond my credentials as correspondent of the Illustrated London News, I was unprovided with any letter of introduction, I was immediately received in a most friendly and informal manner by courteous Sir John Walsham, and we had quite a long chat together. Sir John seemed somewhat surprised at my having been permitted to come through China from Kalgan, and still more so when I informed him I had accompanied the Russian mail. The reason of his surprise I could only conjecture. One subject led to another, and I gradually learnt a lot of interesting particulars about the position of European Ministers in Peking. Although I was already somewhat au courant with the state of affairs, I must confess I was fairly astounded when I was informed that beyond being, as it were, tolerated, they never have any communication with Celestial officials except on business matters, and there was absolutely no friendship lost between them; that their position was always, as it were, on a volcano, and often almost insupportable. This remarkable status quo, Sir John added, would doubtless have to be rectified one day, for China is an important country from many points of view. For the moment, however, Europe had her hands full. I could not help mentioning that I had already heard of all this, and that it was always a source of wonderment to me that the great Powers had so long stood this sort of arrogant insolence on the part of a semi-barbaric nation.