STREET SCENE, TARTAR CITY, PEKING.
It is only my intention to attempt to describe Peking in a very superficial manner; for, although I spent a month in it, I felt that it would require a much longer stay in the place, and a much abler pen than mine, to do even scanty justice to its many curiosities and the historical souvenirs it recalls, or to give even a slight idea of the many horrible and strange sights to be witnessed in its crowded, evil-smelling streets, where one cannot take a step without having one’s eyes or nostrils shocked by some abomination or other. I have heard Canton described as the most hideous city in the Far East, but I fancy Peking runs it pretty closely. It will give some idea of its horrors when I state that I don’t think I ever went through the Chinese city without seeing the dead body of a beggar lying about somewhere. I well remember my astonishment on the first of these occasions. Accompanied by a friend and a guide, I was passing along a very crowded thoroughfare called the “Beggars’ Bridge,” when I espied a poor emaciated wretch in a state of absolute nudity, lying in the centre of the pathway right out in the broiling sun. He was in such a twisted, contorted position, that I remarked to my boy—
“That’s a queer place for a man to sleep, Joe.”
“He no belong sleep, sir; he belong dead man,” replied Joe in his quaint “pigeon English.”
It might have been a dead dog for all the notice the body attracted. The busy crowds passed to and fro, evidently so used to such sights that they never even thought of moving it on one side, or even of covering it up.
It is to live in the midst of such barbaric surroundings that civilized nations have sent their representative ministers with their families.
Still, in spite of the many inevitable discomforts, social life amongst the Europeans in Peking seemed to me pleasant enough in its way, for there was always plenty to do; and when I was not working, the time never hung heavily on my hands, for the hospitality I was shown whilst there was quite equal to anything I had experienced in Siberia, and that is saying a good deal.
With such a charming and hospitable an ambassadress, it may be imagined that the life of the little colony centred itself, so to speak, round the British Legation, and Lady Walsham’s “At home” days were events to be looked forward to; and the coup d’œil during the afternoon, when tennis and tea were in full swing and the gardens crowded, was as pretty as it was unique, the temple-like buildings in the background forming a telling contrast to the white-clad figures under the trees or on the lawn.
I was particularly fortunate in arriving in Peking during the “season,” for towards the end of June, when the heat and dust become insupportable, its European residents betake themselves up into the hills, where many disused temples are annually converted into temporary country-houses, and, from all accounts, very charming places they make.
No description of European life in Peking would be complete without some reference to that most striking personality of the East, Sir Robert Hart, the Inspector-General of the Chinese Imperial Customs, so a brief résume of an extremely interesting evening I had the pleasure of spending with the great man will doubtless be of interest.