Chapter 18
Leaving the city, we drove some miles along the outskirts to the Yellow Temple. There are two temples, the eastern and the western; and, in front, are two very beautiful pavilions. Chien Lung repaired the western temple and changed it into a dwelling for Mongol princes, who arrived each year to pay their tribute. This is one of the finest buildings in China; it has great size, beautiful proportions, and a square entrance porch; but, since its occupation in 1900 by some of the Allied Forces, it has begun to fall into ruins. The eastern temple is in good condition, and critics claim that its proportions surpass those of any temple in Japan. The magnificent white marble monument or pagoda was erected by Chien Lung over the grave of the Teshu Llama who died of small-pox while on a visit there. On the eight sides of the memorial are engraved scenes in the Llama's life; these bas-reliefs are very interesting. The great White Temple is the most beautiful monument in the environs of Peking, and it is well worth the long drive to see it. On our return, we passed through the usual number of gates, from the Chinese to the Tartar, and from the Tartar to the Imperial; only a small portion of this latter section can be seen, but we caught glimpses of the many lovely buildings in the Forbidden City, and it was most tantalizing not to be able to enter the sacred precincts. From a sketch taken in 1900, we can form an idea of the many interesting points in this Forbidden City. The Imperial City, enclosing the Forbidden City, is over five miles in circumference; its walls are eighteen feet high, with four entrances about seventy feet wide. There are three gates, the central one of which is reserved for the Emperor. People are allowed to look in, but not to enter by this southern gate; the northern and eastern gates are open to the public.
One view in the Forbidden City is that of the Coal Hall, two hundred and ten feet high. It dates from the Mongol dynasty, when coal is said to have been piled up there as a provision in case of siege, the Ming Emperor having covered it all with beautiful pavilions.
Beyond the wall to the north is the Hall of Longevity, where the Emperor's coffin remains after his death and until his funeral.
The White Dagoba is conspicuous in all Peking views; it is within the gardens which are reserved for the court, and was built by the first emperor of the present dynasty as a shrine for a very fine Buddha. The White Dagoba is regarded as the palladium of the Empire, and stands at the very centre of the loveliest part of the palace grounds. A little farther to the west is found the finest pailow in Peking, made of very beautiful encaustic tiles; and behind a neighboring hillock rests the celebrated dragon screen, sixty feet long and twenty feet high; it was built to protect the library, which was unfortunately burned during the occupation of the allied forces in 1900.
A noticeable feature is the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas, all of glittering Imperial yellow, the walls covered with animals and small images of Buddha. The three lakes, northern, middle, and southern, are a little over two miles long; a beautiful marble bridge connects the northern with the middle lake.
The Winter or Skating Palace was distinctive for the finest wood carvings in China; these were also burned by accident in 1900. A large pavilion, surrounded by a circular wall, is near the marble bridge. In this pavilion is the throne, and it was there audience was given to several European ambassadors in 1893; there also the Emperor puts on mourning garments,--when, for instance, he had to grieve for his father, Prince Chan. At the northeast corner of the palace stands the fine yellow-tiled temple, with an imposing entrance; it has large gates, within the outer of which are two very quaint pavilions. Four or five roofs are piled, one on the other, and these can be distinctly seen from outside the walls of the Forbidden City. This brief outline may give one a little idea of what the public are deprived of seeing. Most of the buildings of the Forbidden City are yellow-tiled, as are also the walls.
The Summer Palace is the only one of the Peking buildings that dates from the present Manchu dynasty. There had previously been a palace there, but it had a long while since fallen into decay. It is said to have had lovely gardens, and many canals winding in and out, while in other places little miniature lakes are formed. The principal palace is attractive and rises on an eminence, but there are pavilions and lesser buildings scattered about. The present palace is, however, very inferior to those royal residences of olden times; it suffered greatly in 1900; the Russian soldiers seemed to take delight in destroying works of art and historic buildings. Some of the marble bridges are very effective, and there is a marble boat, not in itself very beautiful, but a picturesque feature as it lay anchored by the lake. We saw it from a high hill beyond the Emperor's palace, where is located a Buddhist pagoda. We had a view of the palace with its enclosure and its minor buildings.
This was one feature seen during an excursion which a friend and I took, escorted by a guide and a picnic luncheon basket on Saturday, May 25th. We left the hotel early for a six-mile drive, passing first through the crowded streets, again noting the dusty way of the Imperial City, which wound around near the walls of the Forbidden City, every pinnacle and roof gleaming in the morning light. Leaving the outskirts of the town, the country view was the pleasantest we had seen. Our road lay alongside of the canal, where there were more trees and less dust.
On the way we first visited the Five Pagoda Buddhist Temple, which seems to belong to a different world from that of to-day. It is a square mass of masonry fifty feet high, covered with old colored tiles and with beautiful reliefs of camels. On its flat top there are five pagodas, each eleven stories high; also, adjacent to it, a very elegant square pagoda, and, in front of it, what seems like the top of another large pagoda. Farther on, we saw the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple; it is not remarkable architecturally, and there are two large spacious buildings with a court between them. One of them consists of two stories, in both of which is a large room lined with little compartments containing small gilt Buddhas. The guide said there was a total of nine hundred and ninety-nine already, and the thousandth place was reserved for the Dowager Empress when she died.
We drove on to the village, adjacent to the Summer Palace, where we took jinrikishas for a ride of about two miles, following along the outskirts of the Summer Palace. Here were some temples, evidently not now used as places of worship, since the guide informed us that our luncheon would be served in the open court of one of them. After our impromptu meal we proceeded to walk about half a mile farther and then ascended an eminence with several flights of stairs leading to the pagoda which I have previously alluded to. We obtained, not only a view of the Summer Palace, but of the surrounding country. The little pagoda was several stories high, and very tasteful in all its appointments; it is said to have been built in commemoration of some event, but the guide could give us no exact information. We retraced our way to the city, and then drove through certain streets in order to enjoy the peculiar life around us.
The three or four miles stretching between the Chien-men and Hata-men gates on that Saturday afternoon surpass description. The Emperor's middle gate barred out the crowds; this opened on a somewhat discolored bridge, with fine carving and artistic balustrades, but the eye does not like to linger here long on account of the crowds of beggars everywhere visible; indeed, the hordes of women, children, vehicles, and processions of every variety seemed incredible. Funeral cortèges in particular were very doleful; discordant music preceded the funeral car, and the crowds of paid mourners in motley dress, many of them picked up off the street for the occasion, were a new and distasteful feature. We saw on that trip three of these funerals, all similarly arranged, but only one modest wedding procession. The bride sat in a red silk-covered chair or palanquin, surrounded by friends; the usual attempts were made at music. Whether the happy lady was Manchu or Chinese we were unable to determine, the curtains being carefully drawn.
This thoroughfare, between the two gates alluded to, is famous for its gayly decorated shops with long, ornamented signs and banners flying in every direction. There are many such streets in Peking, and a few shady residence thoroughfares, but our way usually led through the congested sections. Pailows, where streets are crossed at right angles, are interesting, and they have usually commemorative arches; and sometimes the business houses of the locality bear their name, as the Four Pailow Shop.
Legation Street is the home for ambassadors and ministers, and is a decided contrast to the majority of native streets. Many of the foreign buildings are fine, the grounds large, with imposing gateways, over which may be seen the coat of arms of the country which is represented. The British Legation was formerly a palace. In the grounds is the English Chapel; here we attended service on Sunday. Our hotel was nearly opposite the British Embassy; hence, in going in or out, we usually touched Legation Street.
A notable excursion from Peking is to the Great Wall and the Ming tombs. The Wall we were to see was not the original one, built in 215 B.C., but an inner wall of the seventh century, which had still later been rebuilt by the Ming emperors. We left in the morning for the Nankow Hotel, where we were to pass the night. On our way to the Peking station, we saw the Emperor, _en route_ from his Summer Palace to the city, in a yellow silk sedan chair, numerously attended by persons also robed in yellow. After luncheon at Nankow, we took sedan chairs ourselves for a twenty-six-mile ride to the Great Wall through the Nankow Pass. The long processions of guides and chairs were very picturesque, and there were also extra attendants as a necessary relay. The road was rather rough and very dusty, and our progress was therefore slow. Our roadway wound along, sometimes near a mountain, which lay on one side, with the valley on the other. The first gateway or arch we passed through was profusely decorated, having as a frieze a row of six Buddhas to right and left, and large Chinese figures below. Farther on, we came to another gateway, and then to another, the Pa-ta-ling, thirteen miles from Nankow and the top of the Nankow Pass. From every side long vistas could be seen; then portions of the Wall winding in and out, and ever and anon a massive watch tower looming forth.
We left our chairs and walked a considerable way up the mountain side to the ruined watch towers; the one I entered was a large oblong building, with six windows and two doorways; farther on was another similar watch tower, and, at a greater distance, another. These add greatly to the picturesqueness of the wide massive wall--wide enough for two or three persons to ride abreast. Taken altogether, the view from the Nankow Pass is one of the most magnificent I have ever seen, and, of course, entirely unlike any other. It was a glorious day, and all the elements seemed to conspire to make it a perfect occasion.
Resuming our chairs, we proceeded to retrace our steps; and in about an hour we stopped at a little hamlet for an afternoon collation furnished by our very thoughtful Director. The shades of night were beginning to fall when we resumed our journey, and erelong darkness overtook us. We were all more or less separated, as the guides made no attempt to keep together; and the sensation of being propelled by natives who did not speak one word of English was very peculiar and uncomfortable.
We arrived at the hotel about nine in the evening; a late dinner followed, and we separated with the expectation of meeting in the morning at five, for the departure to the Ming tombs. This is a distance of eight miles, or sixteen there and back to Nankow. The cavalcade left in the same fashion as on the day previous. Our way led us over the hills,--an irregular roadway, first through a field and past two little villages. We then came to a magnificently carved pailow of white marble, fifty feet high, eighty feet wide, and divided into five openings by square pillars. Half a mile farther on stands the Red Gate; and there was formerly a beautiful pavilion of white marble, supported on four carved columns. It may be well to state before proceeding, that there are in this vicinity, within a few miles of each other, thirteen Ming tombs, the Ming dynasty preceding the present one. Yung-lohi is considered the finest of the group, and this was now to be our objective point. Half a mile beyond the pailow already alluded to is the Red Gate. Next is the Holy Way. From here on for about half a mile, there is a regular procession of animals and persons, all cut out of bluish marble monoliths, remarkable for their workmanship and for their great size, which causes one to speculate how they could have been brought from the quarry. First, there are two columns decorated with sculptured clouds, two lions couchant, two lions rampant. Then, in similar manner, four camels, four elephants, and so on. After this come four military officials, four civil officials, four celebrated men, each made from a single block of marble, standing on opposite sides of the way, and all wearing the old Ming dress used by the Chinese before the Manchus introduced their own costumes.
Leaving the Holy Way, we passed through another arch, and came out on a street formerly paved with marble slabs. At some distance to one side, we saw two of the Ming tombs alluded to. We passed three marble bridges, one of seven arches, very much broken down. Two miles farther on, there is the principal enclosure around Yung-loh's tomb; it has a pavilion protecting a huge tablet with white marble steps and railings carved to represent clouds, phoenix, and dragons. Beyond lies the great hall, seventy yards long by thirty yards wide, and supported upon eight rows of teakwood pillars, four in each row, measuring twelve feet in circumference and sixty feet high. This is a typical ancestral hall. Our luncheon was served to us here.
Passing through another great yard planted with cypresses and oaks, a way cut into solid masonry leads up to the carefully closed door of the tomb. This passage divides into two branches, both leading to a long flight of steps which mount to the top of the terrace, where, immediately above the coffin passage, is an immense upright slab bearing an inscription. The mound on which this tomb is placed is half a mile in circuit, and, though artificial, looks natural, being planted with cypresses and oaks to the very top. The emperors used to come in the Spring and Autumn to sacrifice at these ancient graves, but for two centuries this duty has been left to a descendant of the Ming emperors.
There were different features to each of the Ming tombs, but, having seen the representative one, we were content to return to Nankow, as we were to take the afternoon train for Peking. While the trip to the Great Wall and the Ming tombs is somewhat fatiguing, the interest is so great as to reward one for the exertion.
We went our individual ways the last day in Peking, I to the Chinese City in pursuit of a mandarin coat for a friend. After passing through block after block in a chaotic condition, dirt and debris of all kinds flung everywhere, I left the chair and walked quite a distance through lane-like passages to the place designated, where I found that the dealer had transferred all his embroideries to the hotel in which we were staying, and that the said coat was probably in the collection I had looked at the previous evening. Having devoted two hours to the pursuit, I was somewhat discomfited. I then hurried to some of the streets leading off from Beggars' Bridge, a place which is, as its name suggests, the headquarters for beggars. Strange as it may seem, there is a guild of beggars in Peking, with an acknowledged king; their profession in the East is a fine art. There are interesting thoroughfares leading out from this bridge,--one, a Curio Street, where every conceivable article can be found, and the other, Bookseller Street. This last was a disappointment, as I was told that rare editions could be had; but through the interpreter, I learned that the conditions of the city had been altered since the Boxer Rebellion in 1890. Indeed, that fearful event was the cause of many changes in Peking and of great suffering as well. The story of the conflict as related by an eyewitness was very thrilling. Certain portions of the city at the present time consist of naught but ruins, such as the foreign mission buildings and the eastern and southern cathedrals, one of which was in process of renovation. The Legation quarter has been mostly rebuilt.
The cause of the Boxer Rebellion was everywhere given in Peking as having been instigated by the Dowager Empress and her sympathizers. No one can visit the city without receiving some definite impression of this wonderful woman, who for years has dominated all other authority--violating traditions considered sacred, and ruling with an imperious hand. For the Emperor only sympathy was felt. Of a refined, sensitive nature, but not strong physically, he seems to be a man of intelligence and of broad ideas. This was shown in 1898, when he announced that he intended to rule as other emperors did--to visit throughout his Empire; he even projected a railway journey to Tientsin in September, and planned many innovations. This was accomplished in conjunction with a few kindred spirits belonging to the so-called Reform Party in China.
Soon after, the Empress seemingly acquiesced in the plan of reform, and announced that she too was interested in progress; but, whether sincere or not, erelong the tables were turned; six of the Emperor's advisers were beheaded, and the seventh, an intimate friend of the Emperor, advised in time, left the country. Then the Empress had the Emperor confined, and she was proclaimed his successor; but the open intervention of the Allied Powers caused him to be returned to the throne. It is said that for ten years he has been an invalid. Can any one wonder, knowing the constant espionage and continual opposition to which he has been subjected? After two years' contemplating of the beauties of the court, Emperor Kwang Su was married, very much against his will, however (preferring another), to the niece of the Dowager Empress, the beautiful Yohonola; her photograph proves this to be a true statement. For her has been reserved the sad fate of remaining childless, and, in consequence, she is kept in the background and rarely ever mentioned. Tsze Hsi An is really one of the most remarkable women in the world's history. Of very humble origin, and uneducated, she, on the birth of her son, became the reigning Emperor's wife of the second rank. At his death and also at the death of her superior, she became regent during the minority of her son, and on his death violated traditions (the law prohibiting succession to one of the same generation as the dead ruler), and had the nephew of the deceased Emperor proclaimed, she reigning as regent until his majority and virtually thereafter.
Since 1900 the Empress has shown a desire to meet ladies of other nationalities in audience, and an American woman who had lived thirty-five years in Japan and China told me that the only thing required was an official endorsement by the Secretary of State (if American). Her failing health, however, during the past year caused an entire cessation of social courtesies. A woman of remarkably strong character, dominant will, and unscrupulous as to methods, she is the most perfect example, in juxtaposition, of the masculine woman, as the Emperor is of the feminine man.
We observed many things about the Chinese of to-day that point to progress, however slow. The schools, for instance, are modelled on a much broader basis; there is more independence in journalism; Chinese athletics are also coming into vogue, where they were formerly held in contempt; Young Men's Christian Associations flourish in various places, and fine work is being done by the many foreign missionary organizations. I heard much comment made concerning the American missions; their work along educational lines and in the way of hospitals was specially commended. Even Li Hung Chang, though a Confucian, testified to their value, as have other prominent Manchus. The mission movement in general is being regarded as a great sociological force which, though working slowly, tends to a higher condition of life.
All the signs of the times indicate that China and the United States are destined some day to come into closer relations with each other socially, intellectually and of course commercially, as self-interest is a great factor in the furtherance of any attitude. One of the means to this end is the Chinese student in American colleges and schools; the number is, however, very much smaller than in England, while five thousand men are entered in Japanese colleges and schools, on account of the nearer proximity of Japan and consequently the less expense.
Mention is constantly being made of the Reform Party in China, and hints at revolution are even heard. On this point it is well to quote an extract from "China and America of To-day." The authority says: "The Chinese people have no right to legislation; they have no right of self-taxation. They have not the power of voting out their rulers, or of limiting or stopping their supplies; they have therefore the right of rebellion. Rebellion is, in China, the old, often exercised, legitimate, and constitutional means of stopping arbitrary and vicious legislation and administration." Will it be necessary to resort to revolution in order to effect needed reforms? Time alone will determine.
* * * * *