Chinese New Year, Peking, 1937

Posted: January 31st, 2022 | No Comments »

An excerpt from my book Midnight in Peking, about Chinese New Year 1937…

The Year of the Ox began at midnight on Wednesday 11 February. Han and Dennis were at Morrison Street, where the station was like a ghost town. Even though both men were expecting it, they still jumped when the sound of a hundred thousand firecrackers burst over the city.

Peking had shut down a few days beforehand for the Spring Festival holiday, but the days leading up to that were a flurry of activity. Outside on Morrison Street the thoroughfare had been busier than ever, louder than usual, as rich Chinese piled their purchases into their chauffeured cars, and stubborn foreigners braced themselves against the cold, holding their hats to their heads as they headed for tiffins at the Grand Hôtel de Pékin. For commercial Peking, the end of the old lunar year and the start of the new was the time for settling accounts. Merchants and banks tallied up the year’s business on abacuses with flying fingers and sent their messengers scurrying around the city to collect outstanding bills. Chits that had been issued were redeemed; China’s unique credit system of trust and face was invoked. Unless by special arrangement, no new accounts would be opened until the new year began. People hurried to make the last trading day for Peking’s markets – wheat and bean-cake, flour, cotton, stocks and
shares – which was on the Saturday, although the gold-bar market always stayed open.

The poor of the city and the newcomers from the countryside walked along Morrison Street gazing at the modern stores and the gleaming black cars. Rickshaw pullers did good business, swarming around anyone with a parcel. Bank messengers darted in and out of rickshaws, the sparking trolleybuses and the lines of cars. Here and there shopkeepers emerged with bags of cash, flanked by bodyguards who escorted them to the bank. For several days Peking’s banks and counting houses had extended their opening hours as queues formed to settle debts. Even though China now had a paper currency, its own dollar, backed by the national bank in Shanghai, jittery Peking didn’t trust it. In this city, cashmight have been king but silver was God.

As the new year approached, all Han’s black-jacketed constables were out on street patrol, truncheons drawn, whistles
blowing, to manage the crowds that gathered at the temple fairs and on the food streets, or to watch the impromptu performances of acrobats and opera singers. Crowds were good cover for pickpockets and other criminals, and plainclothes police were also on duty, mingling with the throng to watch for signs of trouble. Patrols had been doubled at major intersections to prevent stampedes caused by delays and anger. Han predicted that marauding bandits would further disrupt the roads and train lines out of the city. Thomas, Pearson and their small band of constables were also increasing the guards on the entrances and exits to the Legation Quarter. The Peking police bicycle squad was monitoring the temples and parks, while the thousand-strong Peace Preservation Brigade, volunteers with armbands, had been called out to assist the regular constables in patrolling the major commercial districts over the holidays. A celebrating crowd could easily turn into panic and frenzy, and this year the mood was heightened. Who knew
what would be left to celebrate next New Year? Pragmatic Peking was living while it could.

The receding Year of the Rat was characterised by opportunity and good prospects, but with the possibility of bleak years to follow. The incoming ox symbolised problems that appear never-ending, and those years governed by it were held to be times for discipline and great sacrifice. The ox’s element was fire: ox and fire combined
to make a beast motivated by combat.

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