Out Clubbing
A walk around the hútòng of southern Běijīng
Some of the following halls may no longer exist by the time you arrive, and even the streets on which they stand may have vanished. They were there yesterday, but in modern Běijīng that tells us nothing. Regardless, the winding hútòng walk between them, beginning at the Húguǎng Guildhall and ending at the Fǎyuán Sì or Ox Street Mosque, will show a lot of the real lives of ordinary people. Some of the halls are closed, but hover outside those that are still residences, looking politely interested, and you may be invited inside to see what, if anything, remains of their history.
The Ānhuī Huìguǎn (安徽会馆) is said to be one of the more substantial surviving guildhalls with multiple courtyards and a theatre. It was built in 1871 on the site of the residence of Sūn Chéngzé (孙承泽), an eminent scholar-official whose life (1592–1676) spanned the handover from Míng to Qīng. More than two million taels of silver were collected by officials and military men of Ānhuī to pay for construction, which took three years. But in modern times the buildings ended up as storehouses for an electrical company, until they were renovated between 1998 and 2001.
To reach it set off north from the Húguǎng Guildhall, noting the early 20th-century department store on the corner, now closed. Walk north up Nán Xīnhuá Jiē, and just past two musical instrument shops turn fourth left into Qián Sūn Gōngyuán Hútòng (前孙公园胡同, ‘the Hútòng in front of Sūn’s park’) and immediately into real hútòng life. Take the quickly reached first right turn into 前孙公园东夹道 and at the T-junction, where there’s an infants school, turn left along 后孙公园胡同, the hútòng behind Sun’s park, and you’ll find the Ānhuī Huìguǎn a little further along on the right at nos. 25–27. Its overgrown roof is in need of mowing, and two battered lions guard the door in a long and equally battered frontage, the courtyard behind filled in with modern jerry-building, but higher roofs visible behind in better condition. Taking the turning between the school and the front gate will bring you to the refurbished rear section. Carry on, turn left, and get lost in a labyrinth of alleys barely wider than your shoulders, with occasional further views.
‘Fǎng gǔ’ (仿古), say the local residents sniffily, meaning ‘in imitation of ancient style’, or ‘fake’, and indeed the nod towards historical authenticity is a very casual one.
Return to the front and carry on west. The road swings right, left, and left again past a long stretch of refurbished greyness, with the brick pattern scratched into the outer cement, and doors painted red. Pigeons wheel overhead and Pekinese pop out of doorways to sniff at foreign ankles. Turn right (west) again when you regain Qián Sūn Gōngyuán Hútòng, where there’s a cluster of tiny back-street businesses. Turn left into tree-lined Hóng Xiàn Hútòng (红线胡同), and at the main boulevard turn right.
This is Luó Mǎ Shì Dàjiē (骡马市大街, ‘mule and horse market street’). A little way along on the north (right-hand) side the maze of hútòng ends suddenly as if cut by a giant chopper, and a brand new courtyard building cowers in the shadow of a modern glass tower belonging to China Unicom. This, probably, is the future of all of Běijīng’s traditional housing.
There’s a pedestrian underpass, or further on by a row of shops selling bicycles of all kinds (due soon to vanish, however) is a pedestrian crossing to get you to the south side of the street. The chāi (拆) character once daubed everywhere here predicted correctly that everything would shortly be rubble. By the time you arrive it will all be replaced by tall modern buildings. Continuing west, turn left into Mǐ Shì Hútòng (米市胡同, ‘rice market alley’) if it still exists, just before the next main junction.
A short way down on the right (west) side of the street at no. 43 is the Nán Hǎi Huìguǎn (南海会馆), also known as the Guǎngdōng Huìguǎn. This was originally founded in 1824 in the former home of an 18th-century Qīng artist to house students from the far south taking the imperial examination, and later expanded to contain one large and 13 smaller neighbouring courtyards. Recently, reaching it involved climbing over an earth barrier, but while neighbouring buildings had the 拆 character, it did not, and one of the few remaining residents suggested that it would be restored.
The address is best known for its connection with Kāng Yǒuwéi (康有为), 1858–1927, who wrote some of his proposals for the reform of China here. Kǎng poses a bit of a problem for communist hagiographers, who like everything in black and white (white for the heroes whose lives they are remodelling; black for revisionists, splittists, anyone else who disagrees with them even slightly, and most foreigners). He was in favour of the emancipation of women, and had proto-communist ideas about replacing the family with state-run institutions and the establishment of a welfare state. He was an originator of what came to be known as the Hundred Days’ Reforms of 1898, a ‘self-strengthening’ movement in which the Guāngxù emperor aimed to drag the Qīng empire into the modern age by reforming the education system and by using foreign technology to beat the foreigners. After little more than three months the Dowager Empress Cíxǐ took back power from the Emperor and crushed the reforms, executing several of Kāng’s former associates while he narrowly escaped death himself by fleeing to Japan.
Unfortunately for the hagiographers, Kāng was also a staunch monarchist, and after the creation of the Republic was involved in the temporary re-enthronement of the last Qīng emperor (Xuāntǒng) in 1917. This restoration lasted for only 12 days, and as the Qīng were re-toppled Kāng fled to the Legation Quarter, which had long been a safe haven for revolutionaries of all kinds, even those with the most xenophobic tendencies.
The execution ground for Kāng’s associates (and many others) was at Cài Shì Kǒu, the major junction you’ve just skirted, and which was described in a contemporary guide book.
The traveller who may be passing a place called the Tsai-shih-k’ourh (菜市口) will probably come across a number of wooden cages, containing human heads in a more or less advanced state of decomposition. He will then become aware that he is passing the execution ground,—a fact which the locality—the junction of two streets covered with booths and shops—and the ever-passing crowd of itinerant hawkers, buyers and sellers, each wrapped up in his business affairs, and apparently totally unconscious of the ghastly objects within a few feet of his eyes, would hardly have suggested to him.
Notes for Tourists in the North of China, N B Dennys, Hong Kong 1866
Continue south and turn west wherever new construction permits (or if necessary return back north to Luó Mǎ Shì Dàjiē and go west to the lights) and south down Cài Shì Kǒu Dàjiē (菜市口大街, ‘vegetable market street’) past m Cài Shì Kǒu (Lines 4 & 7), to discover three entirely fake traditional courtyards where grannies and nannies from the surrounding new towers come to exercise their charges, and who will point the foreigner out to each other. Beyond this turn left (east) along Nán Héng Dōng Jiē (南横东街) to get view to the Zhōngshān Huìguǎn (中山会馆). Built as the home of a powerful Míng minister, with southern architectural detail and furnishings, it became a lodge for people from a town in Guǎngdōng Province. After the death of Sun Yat-sen (Sūn Zhōngshān), who supposedly visited in 1912, it was renamed in his honour. The building has been intermittently under renovation for some years — when complete you will be able to enter by turning right into Zhūcháo Jiē (珠朝街) where it is no. 5. According to construction workers and neighbours three courtyards and an outdoor stage will be opened to the public when refurbishment is completed. But much of the original was actually destroyed in 1998, as memorably described by journalist Wang Jun, who saw it happen.
Supposedly the site was under the protection of the Xuānwǔ District Government, and since the plan was supposedly to relocate the building, every brick, tile, and beam should have been given a serial number, under the supervision of experts.
“Is there any expert available to provide you with guidance,” I asked the head of the team, who identified himself as “Old Wang.”
“Some people came and looked around,” the man replied. “They pointed here and there and told us this and that should be kept. Then we started working.”
Walking around, I found beyond the debris, there were a few wooden boards with decorative designs carved on them. “They want these things,” Old Wang told me. “They also asked us to keep some stone plates inlaid on the wall. There are words inscribed on them.”
“What’s to be done with the bricks, tiles and timber salvaged from the demolition?”
“We just sell them.”
Beijing Record, Wang Jun, English publication in Singapore 2011, original 2003
Such is the reality of conservation in Běijīng.
“We will demolish anything so long as we are paid for it—even the Forbidden City,” the journalist was told.
The 98 households in residence here have been driven away at a cost of ¥35 million, according to the Xuānwǔ government. In the unlikely event the families saw that much money they would have been doing infinitely better than at the hands of property developers.
At the end of the street turn right to regain Cài Shì Kǒu Dàjiē, right again back up to the lights, left along Nán Héng Xī Jiē (南横西街), and first right north up Nán Bànjié Hútòng (南半截胡同). On your way keep an eye open for a plaque about three quarters of the way up on the left marking the Shàoxīng Huìguǎn (绍兴会馆) and on the right at the top you’ll find Běi Bànjié Hútòng (北半截胡同) and the Liúyáng Huìguǎn (浏阳会馆), round to the right above the road for sons of that particular Hǔnán town. This also has connections with the Hundred Days’ Reforms as it was the residence of poet Tán Sìtóng (谭嗣同), one of the reformists appointed a minister by the Guāngxù emperor but executed by Cíxǐ.
Double-back to the west and then turn left again to head south down
Lànmàn Hútòng (烂漫胡同) to find the Húnán Huìguǎn (湖南会馆) on the right a little way down. It dates from 1887 but was founded on something older, and includes two ancestral temples. It is said that the most famous Hunanese of all, Máo Zédōng, once stayed here.
Proceeding south to the end of the alley and then turning right will bring you quickly to the Fǎyuán Sì.
▶ See Hútòng Walking, and other Běijing walks: In Search of the Ice Houses, Legation Quarter, In the Depths of Many Flowers, and Forward to the Past.
Next in South of Qián Mén: Former Residence of Jì Xiǎolán
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