Whatever room is left in the street is taken up by pedestrians, labourers carrying enormous loads, and coolies going about their daily business. It is an impressive sight, and once more I came to the conclusion that the intrinsic character of a place is not expressed in the arrangement of its streets, or in the height and style of its buildings, but in the general manifestation of its activity.
While the eye takes in all these various details, the ear need not be idle. The air is full of sound. Strains of music proceeding from the tea-houses, costermongers' cries, shrieks of quarrelsome children, and high-pitched voices in admonition; shouting and noise of all sorts and in endless variety are heard.
At every step there is a fresh surprise. Fortunately, so far, no guide-books have been written to describe the attractions of the Manchu capital, and no cumbersome descriptions spoil the effect of its genuine charms
To form an idea of the plan of the city, imagine an oblong chess-board. Like all Chinese towns, it is regular in the principal lines. There are two main streets in the form of a cross, intersected by innumerable narrow lanes, and in the middle of the town, where the two chief thoroughfares cross, stands a high tower from the top of which a drum and a gong announce the beginning and the close of the day. Also from this high vantage ground the alarm is given in case of danger, and a detachment of soldiers, stationed in a sort of pigeon-holes, spend the hours of their watch in peaceful slumber.
It would be difficult to enumerate all the places of interest which Mukden contains, for everything is interesting to the Western mind, even to the smallest cottage with its curiously shaped roof and quaint style. And the interest lies not only in their material conception or in their exterior, but also in their inner qualities, and especially in the fact that they give expression to the mental and artistic ideas of the nation. As has already been said, it is at first the general effect, the picturesqueness, and the novelty, which strike one as so charming. Some of the houses are very dilapidated, the walls lean over, and the roofs are covered with a tangled growth of moss and grass. But all this makes them the more attractive from an artistic point of view.
Among the most interesting public edifices are the yamens belonging to the Government, and occupied by the Governor and some others of the mandarins of high degree; one or two Lama monasteries; the large buildings where the Russian Consul and the Commander-in-Chief reside; and last, but not least, the building occupied by the famous Russo-Chinese Bank and its agents.
Naturally the Imperial Palace is a place of great interest. With its enclosure of walls it forms a city within the city. It is divided into various courts, and consists of a great many separate structures, detached houses, halls, and pavilions. Taken separately these are not of great importance, but the whole effect is very striking. The colonnades, beams, and brackets are of carved wood, richly painted and gilded. All the woodwork is painted dark purple, and the roofs, like those of all edifices connected with the Imperial Family, or dedicated to Confucius, are covered with yellow tiles. The greater part of the palace is now occupied by Russian troops.
Near the palace gate is a low building in which a whole detachment of soldiers is quartered, and the open court is lined with cannon. It was only on my showing them a special permission from the commander that the sentries allowed me to pass.
The interior of the palace is in a sad state of ruin. Since the Imperial Family departed for Pekin, it has never been inhabited, and the few art treasures still remaining are carelessly scattered about the place. There are some valuable panels, some precious jades, and exquisite porcelains, but the greater portion of them disappeared after the last war. Some say that these treasures have been stolen by the Boxers, but according to another version the thieves must be looked for elsewhere. I was told that the very rare collection of old manuscripts and official documents is now quietly reposing among the archives at St. Petersburg to be protected from destruction.
My eyes wandered from the reception-halls to the vestibules, from the terraces to the gardens. It was all so original, so quaint. But the thing which specially strikes the visitor is the incongruity of transforming this sacred cradle of the master minds of the Celestial Empire into a Cossack encampment. As I passed out through the principal entrance, a Muscovite warrior stood on guard by the Dragon's door, and his white blouse contrasted strangely with the heavy bulk of the palace.