China under the Empress Dowager

CHANG CHIH-TUNG

Her Majesty was never on terms of any great intimacy with Chang Chih-tung, but she respected him on account of his brilliant literary style and profound knowledge of the classics. The career of this official strikingly illustrates the power of the pen in China. He first came to be known by a critical Memorial in reference to the funeral ceremonies of the Emperor T’ung-Chih, in 1879; his subsequent rapid advancement was due to the Memorial in which he denounced the cession of Ili to Russia by the Manchu Ambassador, Ch’ung Hou, in 1880. At this time Chang was still a poor scholar, earning a precarious livelihood by composing Memorials for certain wealthy Censors. He spoke the Mandarin dialect badly, having been brought up by his father (a Taotai) in the province of Kueichou. By patient study, a splendid memory and a natural talent for historical research and criticism, he became at an early age a recognised authority on all questions of State precedents and historical records, so that his pen found no lack of work in the drafting of official patents of rank, Imperial inscriptions and similar documents. Nevertheless, Tzŭ Hsi never cared for the man, realising that this brilliant scholar was by nature an opportunist, and that his opinion was rarely based on sincere conviction. Her estimate of him was amply justified on more than one occasion, for he frequently changed his views to meet the exigencies of party politics at the capital; it is indeed somewhat remarkable, since this estimate of his character was shared by most of his colleagues, that he should have retained her good will and risen to the highest position in the Government. His successful career[137] is explained by the fact that even men like Jung Lu and Li Hung-chang, who disliked him thoroughly, were unable to deny his claims as an unrivalled scholar.

As an illustration of his historical knowledge and methods, it is interesting to recall the main features of his Memorial against the Treaty of Livadia with Russia. By this Treaty, negotiated by Ch’ung Hou under the direct instructions of the Empress Dowager, Ili was to be retroceded to China upon payment of five million roubles, Russia securing Kuldja in exchange, with the right to open Consulates at certain places in the New Territory and on the Kansu frontier. Russian goods were also to be free of duty in Chinese Turkestan, and a new trade route was to be opened up through Central China, viâ Hsi-an in Shensi. When the terms of the Treaty became known, a storm of angry criticism was directed against the Manchu Ambassador: Tzŭ Hsi promptly ordered him to be cashiered and arrested for disregard of her instructions. The whole matter was referred to the Grand Council, who were directed to consult with Prince Ch’un and the various Government Boards. Chang Chih-tung, who was at this time a junior official in the Department of Public Instruction, drew attention to himself and practically decided the course of events by the advice given in his lengthy Memorial on the subject. The result of the advice therein submitted was, that a son of Tseng Kuo-fan was sent to Russia to negotiate a new Treaty, in which the objectionable clauses were eventually abandoned. Ch’ung Hou considered himself lucky that, as the result of Russia’s diplomatic intervention on his behalf, he escaped with his life.

Chang’s famous Memorial is typical of the mental processes and puerile naïveté of the literati. It began by showing that if the Treaty of Livadia were ratified, the whole of China would be open to Russian troops, who would enter the country as merchants accompanying caravans (since the Treaty expressly provided for merchants carrying fire-arms), and that the retrocession of Ili would prove valueless to China in course of time, inasmuch as Russia would remain in command of all strategic points. Chang urged that China could repudiate the Treaty without danger to herself, for several good reasons; the first being the Imperial prerogative and the unpopularity of the Treaty, whereby the martial spirit of the Chinese people would be aroused, and the second, that the future security of the Empire justified the adoption of right and reasonable precautions. He recommended that, in order to show that the displeasure of the Sovereign was sincere, Ch’ung Hou should be decapitated forthwith; this would be a clear intimation that his negotiations were disavowed; an excellent precedent existed in the case of Ch’i Ying,[138] who had been permitted to commit suicide under similar circumstances by the Emperor Hsien Feng.

As regards Russia’s position in the matter, he was of opinion that China had earned the contempt of the whole world by allowing herself to be so easily intimidated. The Russian Minister at Peking might talk as loudly as he liked about hauling down his flag, but this was only bluff, and if he really desired to take his departure he should be allowed to do so. China should then address an identical Note to all the Powers protesting against Russia’s action, which Note would be published throughout the civilised world. Russia had been weakened by her war with Turkey, and the life of her Sovereign was daily threatened by Nihilists. He was therefore of opinion that she could by no means fight a successful war against China.

Russia’s position in the neighbourhood of Ili by this Treaty would eventually involve China in the loss of the New Territory. Now China had not yet taken over Ili, and the Treaty had not been ratified by the Sovereign, so that Russia could have no good ground for insisting upon its terms; if, however, Russia were intent on compelling China to yield or fight, it would be necessary to look to the defences of the Empire in three directions, namely Turkestan, Kirin and Tientsin. As regards Turkestan, Tso Tsung-t’ang’s victorious armies, which had just succeeded in suppressing the Mahomedan rebellion after a campaign of several years, would be quite capable of dealing with Russia’s forces were she to attempt an invasion. As for Manchuria, it was too far from Russia’s base of operations to render success even possible, while the stalwart natives of the Eastern Provinces might be relied upon to dislodge her should she eventually succeed in establishing a foothold. A few months would certainly witness her irrevocable defeat. As to invading China by sea, Russia’s Navy was not to be compared to that of other Powers, and if the huge amount which had been spent by Li Hung-chang on armaments for the Army and Navy were ever to be turned to any good account, now was the time to do it. If at this juncture Li Hung-chang proved incapable of dealing with the situation, he was for ever useless. The Throne should direct him to prepare for war, and he should equip his troops with the latest pattern of French artillery. If victorious, a Dukedom should be his reward, and if defeated, his head should pay the penalty. The money which would be saved by not carrying out the Treaty, might very well be devoted to the equipment of the military forces.

Russia’s designs in Turkestan, he continued, threatened England no less than China. If Li Hung-chang could persuade the British Minister that England’s interests were identical with those of China, surely the British Government’s assistance might be forthcoming? China possessed, moreover, several distinguished generals, who should forthwith be summoned to the capital, and given command of troops at different points between Peking and Manchuria. It was high time that China’s prestige should be made manifest and re-established. And in his peroration he says:—

In spite of its childish arguments and colossal ignorance of foreign affairs, and in spite of the absurdity of allowing the nation’s military operations to be criticised and dictated by a theoretical scholar, this Memorial had a most remarkable effect on the opinion of the Court, and Tzŭ Hsi commanded that its author should be consulted by the Foreign Office on all important questions of State—a striking case of parmi les aveugles. Chang was promoted to be Vice-President of a Board, and within a year was made Governor of Shansi, where he further increased his reputation by his entirely sincere attack upon opium smoking and poppy cultivation. Throughout his career, safe in the comfortable seclusion of his Yamên, and judging every question of foreign policy by the light of the history of previous Dynasties, Chang Chih-tung was always of a bellicose disposition on paper. He displayed it again in 1884, when he advocated the war with France, and became acting Viceroy at Canton. (He was a firm believer in the military genius of the swash-buckling Li Ping-heng, even to the day when this notorious reactionary met his death with the forlorn hope of the Boxers.) When the French troops were defeated by the Chinese forces at Langshan, Chang claimed and received no small credit for an event so unusual in Chinese modern history, and became so elated thereby that he sent in a Memorial strongly recommending that the victory should be followed up by an invasion of all French territory between the Chinese frontier and Hanoi. When this advice was rejected, he put in another bitter Memorial of remonstrance which created an immense impression on public opinion. He denounced the peace which was subsequently signed and by which China lost Annam, and he never forgave his rival and opponent, Li Hung-chang, for his share in this result.

Chang’s share in the coup d’état of 1898 aptly illustrates his opportunism. It was he who from Wuch’ang originally recommended some thirty “progressives” to the notice of the Emperor at the beginning of that fateful year, and amongst these was Liang Ch’i-ch’ao, the chief colleague and henchman of K’ang Yu-wei. Rejoiced at the great Viceroy’s support, the Emperor summoned him to Peking to assume direction of the new movement, hoping the more from his assistance as Chang’s views always carried weight with the Empress Dowager. It is impossible to say what course Chang would have followed had he come to Peking, or what effect his presence might have had in preventing the collapse of the Emperor’s plans, but as luck would have it, he had only proceeded as far as Shanghai, when he was ordered back to his post in Hupei by an Imperial Decree, which directed him first to settle a troublesome missionary case that had just arisen. Immediately after this, the dismissal of Weng T’ung-ho, and the appointment of Jung Lu to Tientsin, showed him that a crisis was impending and that the reactionary party held the better cards; he played therefore for his own hand, anticipating that the Empress Dowager would speedily come to the front as leader of the Manchu Conservatives. It was at this particular juncture that he wrote and published his famous treatise on education, intended to refute the arguments of a revolutionary pamphlet that was then being widely circulated in the provinces of his jurisdiction. His treatise, by its brilliant style rather than by its arguments, created a great impression; its effect on the Chinese reader’s mind was to emphasise the wisdom of learning everything possible of the material arts and forces of Europe, while keeping the foreigner himself at arm’s length.

In 1900, at the urgent request of the Viceroy of Nanking (Lui K’un-yi) and of Li Hung-chang, he agreed to join in a Memorial impeaching Prince Tuan, and telegrams were exchanged between these high officials to discuss the form which this document should take. In the first instance, Chang had declined to protest against the Emperor’s deposition for the reason, which he justified by historical precedent, that the suicide of the Censor Wu K’o-tu, twelve years before, had justified Her Majesty in placing a new Emperor on the Throne. He concurred in the decision of the Nanking Viceroy to head off any Boxer rising in the Yangtsze Provinces, but he was obviously uneasy at his own position in having to disobey the Empress Dowager’s anti-foreign Decrees, and he hedged to the best of his ability by beheading two prominent reformers at Wuch’ang. No sooner had the form of the document impeaching Prince Tuan been practically decided, than he took fright at the thought that the Prince might eventually triumph and, as father of the Emperor-elect, wreak vengeance on his enemies; he therefore telegraphed to Li Hung-chang at Shanghai, begging that his signature be withheld from the Memorial. Li Hung-chang, who dearly loved his joke, promptly sent off the Memorial with Chang Chih-tung’s signature attached thereto, and then telegraphed informing him that he had done so, and asking whether he desired that a second telegram be sent to Her Majesty cancelling his signature? Chang was for several days in a state of the greatest distress (which was only relieved when the Boxers were finally routed), and his mood was not improved when a pair of scrolls were sent to him anonymously, with inscriptions which may be roughly translated as follows:—

Before his death, Chang had achieved a curiously mixed reputation, revered as he was by all scholars throughout the Empire, yet denounced on all sides for administrative incapacity. As an instance of the childish self-sufficiency which characterised him to the end, nothing is more remarkable than the suggestion which he solemnly submitted to the Throne, during the course of the peace negotiations for the Portsmouth Treaty after the conclusion of the war between Russia and Japan. At this juncture, the Empress Dowager had telegraphed inviting suggestions for China’s future policy from all the high provincial authorities. Chang telegraphed five suggestions in reply, one of which was that China should come to an agreement with Japan to send two hundred thousand Japanese troops to Manchuria, and in the event of Russia proceeding to attack Chinese territory, that Japan should be requested to garrison Urga. This was the idea of China’s foremost literary statesman in July, 1905, but there were not lacking enemies of his who avowed that his political views were considerably affected by the fact that he had contracted loans from Japanese financiers. Whatever the cause of his views, he had reason to change them completely before he died.

TSO TSUNG-T’ANG

The Chinese look upon Tseng Kuo-fan, the conqueror of the Taiping rebels, as the greatest military commander in modern history; but they regard Tso Tsung-t’ang, the hero of the long Mahomedan campaign, as very near to him in glory. Both Generals were natives of Hunan (a fact which seems to entitle the people of that province to assume something of a truculent attitude to the rest of the Empire), and both were possessed of indisputable qualities of leadership and organisation, remarkable enough in men trained to literary pursuits. Both were beloved of the people for their personal integrity, courage and justice.

Tso was born, one of nine sons in a poor family, in 1812. He took his provincial graduate degree at the age of twenty; thereafter, he seems to have abandoned literary work, for he never passed the Metropolitan examination. This did not prevent the Empress Dowager from appointing him, after his victorious campaign, to the Grand Secretariat, the only instance of a provincial graduate attaining to that high honour. For three years he was Tseng Kuo-fan’s ablest lieutenant against the Taipings, and became Governor of Fukhien in 1863. In 1868 he was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial forces against the Mahomedan rebels, and began a campaign which lasted, with breathing spaces, until the beginning of 1878. His victorious progress through the western and north-western provinces began at Hsiang-Yang, on the Han river, in Hupei. Thence, after driving the rebels from Hsi-an, through Shansi and Kansu, he came to a halt before the strong city of Su-chou fu, on the north-west frontier of Kansu. The siege of this place lasted nearly three years, for his force was badly off for ordnance, and he was compelled to wait until his deputies purchased artillery for him from a German firm at Shanghai. The guns were sent up in the leisurely manner affected by the Mandarins, and Tso was obliged to put his troops to agricultural work in order to provide himself with commissariat.

Su-chou had been for ten years in the hands of the rebels. It fell to the Imperialists in October, 1873, some say by treachery, according to others by assault. Be this as it may, Tso, whose method of dealing with rebels was absolutely pitiless, reduced the place to a heap of ruins, killing men, women and children indiscriminately, throughout large tracts of country. So fearful were the wholesale massacres and treacherous atrocities committed by his Hunanese troops, that General Kauffmann, commanding the Russian forces on the frontier, considered it his duty to address him on the subject, and to protest indignantly at the indiscriminate killing of non-combatants. General Kauffmann alluded chiefly to the massacre which had followed the taking of the town of Manas (November, 1876), but similar atrocities had been perpetrated at Su-chou, Hami, and many other important places. At Hami the entire population was put to the sword. Eye-witnesses of the scene of desolation, which stretched from Hsi-an in Shensi to Kashgar, have recorded that scarcely a woman was left alive in all those ruined cities—one might ride for days and not see one—a fact which accounts for the failure of the country unto this day to recover from the passing of that scourge. In more than one instance, Tso said with pride that he had left no living thing to sow new seeds of rebellion.[139]

Nor do the Chinese find anything reprehensible in his action. Instinctively a peace-loving people, they have learned through centuries of dreadful experience that there can be no humanitarianism in these ever-recurring rebellions, which are but one phase of the deadly struggle for life in China, and that the survival of the fittest implies the extermination of the unfit. Tso had first learned this lesson in the fierce warfare of the Taiping rebellion, where there was no question of quarter, asked or given, on either side. “If I destroy them not,” he would say with simple grimness, “if I leave root or branch, they may destroy me.”

In private life the man was genial and kindly, of a rugged simplicity; short of stature, and in later years stout, with a twinkling eye and hearty laugh; sober and frugal in his habits, practising the classical virtues of the ancients in all sincerity: a strict disciplinarian, and much beloved of his soldiers. He delighted in gardening and the planting of trees. Along the entire length of the Imperial highway that runs from Hsi-an to Chia-Yü Kuan beyond the Great Wall, thirty-six days’ journey, he planted an avenue of trees, a stately monument of green to mark the red route of his devastating armies. One of the few Europeans who saw him at Hami records that it was his habit to walk in the Viceregal gardens every afternoon, accompanied by a large suite of officials and Generals, when he would count his melons and expatiate on the beauty of his favourite flowers. With him, ready for duty at a word, walked his Chief Executioner.

He was as careful for the welfare of his people as for the extermination of rebels, and erected a large woollen factory at Lan-chou fu, whereby he hoped to establish a flourishing industry throughout the north-western provinces. He was fiercely opposed to opium cultivation, and completely suppressed it along the valley of the Yellow River for several years. The penalty for opium-smoking in his army was the loss of one ear for a first offence, and death for the second.

Yakoub Beg, the last leader and forlorn hope of the rebellion, died in May, 1877. Tso, following up his successes, captured in turn Yarkand, Kashgar and Khotan (January, 1878), and thus ended the insurrection. At the conclusion of the campaign he had some forty thousand Hunanese troops at Hami, and twenty thousand more under General Liu[140] at Kashgar. One of his Generals was that Tung Fu-hsiang who subsequently became known to the world as the leader of the bloodthirsty Kansuh soldiery at Peking in 1900; at the taking of Khotan he laid the foundations of his reputation for truculent ferocity. Tso firmly believed that his Hunanese were the finest fighting men in the world, and was most anxious to use them, in 1879, in trying conclusions with the Russians, boasting that with two hundred thousand of them he would easily march to St. Petersburg and there dictate a peace which should wipe out the humiliating concessions negotiated by Ch’ung Hou in the Treaty of Livadia. Fortunately for him, his patriotic ambitions came to the ears of the Empress Dowager, who, desiring no more complications, recalled him in hot haste to Peking, where she loaded him with honours and rewards.

His was the simple nature of the elementary fighter, inured to the hard life of camps. He knew little of other lands, but professed the greatest admiration for Bismarck, chiefly because of the enormous indemnity which the German conqueror had exacted as the price of victory, Tso’s own troops being accustomed to live almost exclusively on the spoils of war. He despised wealth for himself, but loved plunder for his men.

Upon his triumphant return to Peking he was informed that the Palace authorities expected him to pay forty thousand taels as “gate-money” before entering the capital. Tso flatly refused. “The Emperor has sent for me,” he said, “and I have come, but I will not pay a cash. If he wishes to see me, he must either obtain for me free entry or pay the gate-money himself.” He waited stolidly five days and then had his way, entering scot-free. Later, when the Empress Dowager made him a present of ten thousand taels, he divided the money between his soldiers and the poor.

SUN CHIA-NAI

This official, chiefly known to fame among his countrymen as one of the tutors of His Majesty Kuang-Hsü, was a sturdy Conservative of the orthodox type, but an honest and kindly man. His character and opinions may be gauged from a well-known saying of his: “One Chinese character is better than ten thousand words of the barbarians. By knowing Chinese a man may rise to become a Grand Secretary; by knowing the tongues of the barbarians, he can at best aspire to become the mouth-piece of other men.”

In his later years he felt and expressed great grief at the condition of his country, and particularly in regard to the strained relations between the Empress Dowager and the Emperor. He traced the first causes of these misfortunes to the war with Japan, and never ceased to blame his colleague, the Imperial Tutor Weng T’ung-ho, for persuading the Emperor to sign the Decree whereby that war was declared, which he described as the act of a madman. Weng, however, was by no means alone in holding the opinion that China could easily dispose of the Japanese forces by land and by sea. It was well-known at Court, and the Emperor must have learned it from more than one quarter, that several foreigners holding high positions under the Chinese Government, including the Inspector-General of Customs (Sir Robert Hart), concurred in the view that China had practically no alternative but to declare war in view of Japan’s high-handed proceedings and insulting attitude. Prestige apart, it was probable that the Emperor was by no means averse to taking this step on his own authority, even though he knew that the Empress Dowager was opposed to the idea of war, because of its inevitable interference with the preparations for her sixtieth birthday; at that moment, Tzŭ Hsi was living in quasi-retirement at the Summer Palace. After war had been declared and China’s reverses began, she complained to the Emperor and to others, that the fatal step had been taken without her knowledge and consent, but this was only “making face,” for it is certain that she had been kept fully informed of all that was done and that, had she so desired, she could easily have prevented the issue of the Decree, and the despatch of the Chinese troops to Asan. Sun Chia-nai’s reputation for sagacity was increased after the event, and upon the subsequent disgrace and dismissal of Weng T’ung-ho he stood high in Her Majesty’s favour. Nevertheless his loyalty to the unfortunate Emperor remained unshaken.

In 1898, his tendencies were theoretically on the side of reform, but he thoroughly disapproved of the methods and self-seeking personality of K’ang Yu-wei, advising the Emperor that, while possibly fit for an Under-Secretaryship, he was quite unfitted for any high post of responsibility. When matters first approached a crisis, it was by his advice that the Emperor directed K’ang to proceed to Shanghai for the organisation of the Press Bureau scheme. Sun, peace-loving and prudent, hoped thereby to find an outlet for K’ang Yu-wei’s patriotic activities while leaving the Manchu dovecots unfluttered. Later, after the coup d’état, being above all things orthodox and a stickler for harmonious observance of precedents, he deplored the harsh treatment and humiliation inflicted upon the Emperor. It is reported of him that on one occasion at audience he broke down completely, and with tears implored the Empress Dowager not to allow her mind to be poisoned against His Majesty, but without effect.

Upon the nomination of the Heir Apparent, in 1900, which he, like many others, regarded as the Emperor’s death sentence, he sent in a strongly worded Memorial against this step, and subsequently denounced it at a meeting of the Grand Council. Thereafter, his protests proving ineffective, he resigned all his offices, but remained at the capital in retirement, watching events. At the commencement of the Boxer crisis, unable to contain his feelings, he sent in a Memorial through the Censorate denouncing the rabid reactionary Hsü T’ung, whom he described as “the friend of traitors, who would bring the State to ruin if further confidence were placed in him.” Throughout his career he displayed the courage of his convictions, which, judged by the common standard of Chinese officialdom, were conspicuously honest. He was a man of that Spartan type of private life which one finds not infrequently associated with the higher branches of Chinese scholarship and Confucian philosophy; it was his boast that he never employed a secretary, but wrote out all his correspondence and Memorials with his own hand.

A pleasing illustration of his character is the following: He was seated one day in his shabby old cart, and driving down the main street to his home, when his driver collided with the vehicle of a well-known Censor, named Chao. The police came up to make enquiries and administer street-justice, but learning that one cart belonged to the Grand Secretary Sun, they told his driver to proceed. The Censor, justly indignant at such servility, wrote a note to Sun in which he said: “The Grand Secretary enjoys, no doubt, great prestige, but even he cannot lightly disregard the power of the Censorate.” Sun, on receiving this note, proceeded at once on foot in full official dress to the Censor’s house, and upon being informed that he was not at home, prostrated himself before the servant, saying: “The nation is indeed to be congratulated upon possessing a virtuous Censor.” Chao, not to be outdone in generosity, proceeded in his turn to the residence of the Grand Secretary, intending to return the compliment, but Sun declined to allow him to apologise in any way.

TUAN FANG

In 1898, Tuan Fang was a Secretary of the Board of Works; his rapid promotion after that date was chiefly due to the patronage of his friend Jung Lu. For a Manchu, he is remarkably progressive and liberal in his views.

In 1900, he was Acting-Governor of Shensi. As the Boxer movement spread and increased in violence, and as the fears of Jung Lu led him to take an increasingly decided line of action against them, Tuan Fang, acting upon his advice, followed suit. In spite of the fact that at the time of the coup d’état he had adroitly saved himself from clear identification with the reformers and had penned a classical composition in praise of filial piety, which was commonly regarded as a veiled reproof to the Emperor for not yielding implicit obedience to the Old Buddha, he had never enjoyed any special marks of favour at the latter’s hands, nor been received into that confidential friendliness with which she frequently honoured her favourites.

In his private life, as in his administration, Tuan Fang has always recognised the changing conditions of his country and endeavoured to adapt himself to the needs of the time; he was one of the first among the Manchus to send his sons abroad for their education. His sympathies were at first unmistakably with K’ang Yu-wei and his fellow reformers, but he withdrew from them because of the anti-dynastic nature of their movement, of which he naturally disapproved.

As Acting-Governor of Shensi, in July, 1900, he clearly realised the serious nature of the situation and the dangers that must arise from the success of the Boxer movement, and he therefore issued two Proclamations to the province, in which he earnestly warned the people to abstain from acts of violence. These documents were undoubtedly the means of saving the lives of many missionaries and other foreigners isolated in the interior. In the first a curious passage occurs, wherein, after denouncing the Boxers, he said:

After prophesying for them the same fate which overtook the Mahomedan rebels and those of the Taiping insurrection, he delivered himself of advice to the people which, while calculated to prevent the slaughter of foreigners, would preserve his reputation for patriotism. It is well, now that Tuan Fang has fallen upon evil days, to remember the good work he did in a very difficult position. His Proclamation ran as follows:—

A little later the Governor referred to that Decree of the Empress Dowager (her first attempt at hedging) which began by quoting the “Spring and Autumn Classic” in reference to the sacred nature of foreign Envoys, and used it as a text for emphasising the fact that the members of the several missionary societies in Shensi had always been on the best of terms with the people. He referred to the further fact that many refugees from the famine-stricken districts of Shansi, and numbers of disbanded soldiers, had crossed the borders of the province, and fearing lest these lawless folk should organise an attack upon the foreigners, he once more urged his people to permit no violation of the sacred laws of hospitality. The province had already commenced to feel the effects of the long drought which had caused such suffering in Shansi, and the superstitious lower classes were disposed to attribute this calamity to the wrath of Heaven, brought upon them by reason of their failure to join the Boxers. Tuan Fang proceeded to disabuse their minds of this idea.

Tuan Fang was a member of the Mission to foreign countries in 1905 and has received decorations and honours at the hands of several European sovereigns. In private life he is distinguished by his complete absence of formality; a genial, hospitable man, given to good living, delighting in new mechanical inventions and fond of his joke. It is he who, as Viceroy of Nanking, organised the International Exhibition now being held in that city. As Viceroy of Chihli, he was in charge of the arrangements for the funeral of the Empress Dowager in November of last year, and a week after that impressive ceremony was denounced for alleged want of respect and decorum. It was charged against him that he had permitted subordinate officials to take photographs of the cortège and that he had even dared to use certain trees in the sacred enclosure of the Mausolea as telegraph poles, for which offences he was summarily cashiered; since then he has lived in retirement. The charges were possibly true, but it is matter of common knowledge that the real reason for his disgrace was a matter of Palace politics rather than funereal etiquette, for he was a protégé of the Regent and his removal was a triumph for the Yehonala clan, at a time when its prestige called for a demonstration of some sort against the growing power and influence of the Emperor Kuang-Hsü’s brothers.