The Roman Catholic Fathers, who have for centuries lived under the shadow of the Imperial Palace, were having then to turn out before the New Year, as also the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, with their innumerable foundling children. For it was said that the Empress herself intended to reside in the Fathers' European house. It was she who originally so objected to the high towers of the church, as destructive of Fung shui. Then she was saying she observed ever since they were built she had been particularly fortunate, and she begged that church and towers and organ might be handed to her intact, together with Père Armand David's valuable collection of birds. Fortunately, there are counterparts of these in Paris, for it was feared she might give one specimen to one favoured courtier and one to another, and thus destroy the whole value of the collection. For the shrewd Father, observing the extraordinary pride of the Chinese heart, beside their own somewhat demure-coloured birds and butterflies, had placed a collection of the most gorgeous specimens from Brazil and Java, that he might say drily, when showing Chinese officials round, "See how favoured are the other nations of the earth!" From the towers the Empress may possibly intend to look down upon the Palace garden, as no one hitherto has been allowed to do. For the Fathers were only allowed to retain their cathedral on condition that no one ever mounted the towers, from which a bird's-eye view can be obtained of nearly the whole Palace garden. The church, it was then announced, she would use as an audience hall, and, it was added, receive foreigners in it. But such great changes as this have not yet come about in Peking. No people better than Chinese understand saying they will do a thing, and yet not doing it.

But, whatever happens in it, Peking, as long as it exists, can never lose its character of a great caravanserai, in which one is always coming upon the unexpected. For instance, a Red Button's funeral, as we saw it one day, with about a hundred of the greatest ruffians, misshapen, patched, tattered or naked, hideous, yet rejoicing in being employed, each with a long red feather stuck strangely upright in the oldest-looking Jim Crow sort of felt hat, carrying a banneret or a parasol; the red chair of the official carried aloft; then afterwards paper images of his wives, etc.! Or, if not a dignitary's funeral, one comes across a bird market, every man with a well-trained, red-throated bird sitting on a stick, crooked like a magnified note of interrogation, or a hooded hawk. Then a street row—filth unutterable! Perhaps a hundred camels sitting in little rings round their baggage, and not obstructing traffic in the least; elegant curios laid out in the dust of the street for sale; three carts all at once stuck in the same rut, all their horses and mules resting, panting, after vain efforts to get them out; Manchu women, with natural feet, very long silk gowns of the most villainously tawdry hue; or mandarins in exquisitely coloured silks, with only two wheels to their carts, and those far behind it, so as to indicate their dignity, twenty gaily clad retainers trotting after them on ponies! At one moment squalor and filth, such as to make one think of St. Giles's as cleanly by comparison; at the next or at the same moment gorgeous shop-fronts, all of the finest carving, with most brilliant gilding.

But of all the sights on view in Peking, the finest sight to my mind was the British Legation—a grand old Chinese palace, at that time perfectly kept up, and gorgeous in colouring, deepest blue, pure green, golden-dragoned, and lighted up with vermilion touches. Whether one looked at the mortised beams, projecting outside as well as inside, and thus forming the most complex, highly coloured eaves, or at the decorated beams in the reception-rooms, each one a revelation of colour to a London art-decorator, the eye was alike perfectly satisfied. And at that time, owing to the exquisite taste of the then British Minister's wife, as also probably to the liberality of Sir John Walsham himself, the decorations of the Embassy thoroughly harmonised with its architecture and colouring. If Peking outside was an embarrassment of D's, the Legation was then all cleanliness, comfort, and charm.

One cannot help reflecting sadly on what an object-lesson the capital conveys to all the innumerable officials who have to travel thither, as also to the crowds of young men who go there year after year to compete for the highest honour to be obtained by competition—admission to the Hanlin College. When the distances are considered in an empire about as big as Europe, and also the difficulties of travel in a country without roads and without railways, it is the more astonishing this custom was ever started and can still be kept up. Each expectant is mulcted in a heavy sum, as bribes to the officials about the Palace. Thus the rabble of Peking live by tribute from the whole empire. And so rooted is the custom, even the gatekeeper at the British Legation would demand his toll, whilst the sums that have been paid to get into the Imperial Palace often run into six figures. And all who come to Peking know how things are administered there by bribery and corruption, and see for themselves that nothing there is cleaned, nothing ever put in order. As Sir Robert Hart himself says, but for the clouds of dust continually kept in movement by the winds, and brought in from the ever-increasingly impoverished country round, they must have been all dead men in Peking long ago. The dust serves as a great disinfectant, whilst it so permeates all clothing worn there, that no dress in which one has once gone out in Peking seems fit ever to put on again for any other purpose.

Peking is probably the only large city in the whole world where no arrangements whatever are made for sanitation or even for common decency. The result is alike startling and disgusting to the traveller. But on inquiry it becomes even worse. There were drains—sewers—in the time of the Ming Emperors, and it is now the duty of a special official to report upon their condition every year, and see that they are kept in order. But the drains are all closed up; and though a boy in peculiar clothing is let down into them each year, as it were at one end, it is another boy, though in the same peculiar clothing, who is taken out at the other end.

China is the land of shams and middle-men, and the official from the country sees all this, and, sore with the undue lightening of his own purse, goes home, having learnt his lesson to exact bribes himself, and himself rest satisfied with shams, and report all in order, when he knows that it is not so. Far from feeling ashamed of the state the roads in his own province have got into, he remembers those of Peking, that are so much worse. Indeed, through all the country, since the incoming of the Manchu Dynasty, it has been the deliberate official intention to neglect the roads, thus making it the more difficult for the people to assemble together and revolt against their alien rulers. Probably, too, he sees the Tsung-li Yamen, the office created of late years in order to transact business with European nations. Tsung-li Yamen sounds well, but the building is a dirty, dilapidated shed, that might pass muster for a cowhouse on an English gentleman's estate, if it were cleaned and fresh painted. To the Chinese mind this building being set apart to hold interviews with the representatives of Foreign Powers sufficiently indicates in what esteem they are held by his Government, and what amount of courtesy he is intended to mete out to them.

The foreigner, on the other hand, travels away, having learnt his lesson too, if he be of a reflective mind, and that is, very briefly, that there is no hope for China under the present dynasty. The Manchus may have been a very fine people when they first entered China; but since then they have lived like gentlemen, according to the common saying, not earning their living, but as pensioners of the State, nominally ready to be called out to fight, if wanted, in time of war. They do not enter into business, they do not study, and they have lost their martial qualities and become as effeminate as Chinamen. The Chinese Empire has been decaying ever since it came into their hands; and ever since I have known China the Chinese have been saying the Manchu Dynasty has ruled its appointed number of years, and that it is now high time for what they call a Saviour of Society to appear, as so often in the past.

This Saviour of Society would probably have appeared long ago, but for the help the nations of Europe, and especially England, have given towards the centralisation of China. In the old days it is true the Viceroys were appointed from Peking; but each Viceroy ruled pretty well as he pleased in his own province, with his own exchequer, his own army, and his own navy. We found it inconvenient to deal with so heterogeneous a mass without any definite head, and threw our weight into the scale of the Chinese Empire. First we helped to crush the Taiping rebellion, which but for our intervention would probably have succeeded, and by force have made the Chinese people at least nominal Christians. Then through Sir Robert Hart the different Viceroys have been impoverished; the money that in former times would have gone to their private purses or to the administration of their provinces has been diverted to Peking. The theory was that it would be used for the good of the nation. But probably we shall some day know how much the Empress has used for her private pleasures, according to the recent indictment of her by the one great incorruptible Viceroy, Chang-chih-tung, and how much has been absorbed by Li Hung-chang, and all the army of Palace eunuchs and hangers-on.

The Chinese are a people of traders, and patient; they look on, and say mentally, "No belong my pigeon," that is, "Politics are not my business." But they dislike the Empress; they know the young Emperor has been used merely as a puppet; and as to the idea of a Chinese Empire, it is one that has never made its way into their heads. And thus it is a grave question, when in the last Chino-Japanese war all the great Yangtse was a moving procession of junks piled high with human braves, their pigtails coiled about their heads, and their black head kerchiefs giving them somewhat a piratical air, whether these men of Hunan ever meant to fight the Japanese. They would have been ready enough to fight the men of Anhui; and when the European settlement of Shanghai found itself between a regiment of either force, the position was so evidently critical, that very urgent remonstrances had to be addressed to the Chinese authorities to move away either one force or the other. But the Hunan men never fought the Japanese, and it remains a question whether they ever intended doing so.

Even the passing foreigner must feel at Peking that it is not the throbbing heart of a great country, as London is, as Paris is; but the remains of the magnificent camp of a nomad race, that has settled down, and built in stone after the fashion in which in its wanderings it used to build in wood.

CHAPTER I.
THE CHINESE EMPEROR'S MAGNIFICENCE.

Almost all we can know of the Emperor of China is by hearsay. He lives in his Palace inside the Forbidden City, which again is inside the Manchu City, separated from the Chinese City, where are the lovely, gilded curio shops. When he goes abroad, which he never does, except to worship at the temples, all the people are ordered to keep within-doors, and the most any outsider can do is to peep at him through the crack of a door or from behind a curtain. But as I think some details of his State may be interesting to the general reader, and indeed would well repay thinking over, I have extracted an abridged translation from a Chinese newspaper's account of the present Emperor Kwang-shü's visit to the Temple of Heaven in 1888, when, it must be remembered, he was only a boy between sixteen and seventeen. Those who do not care for the accounts of pageants can easily skip it. Those who read it will, however, learn much of Chinese usage therefrom, and will perhaps better realise how remarkable must be the character of the lad who, brought up from the age of four as the central figure in such ceremonies, yet dared to place himself at the head of the party of progress, and to introduce innovations. People in England, angry with him for being overcome, think he must be a young man of weak character. But contrast him with one of our European princes, read what he has attempted, which I hope to describe in a following chapter, and then decide which is the stronger character. Kwang-shü has always been of weak physique—not unnaturally, considering that he has never known what it is to go out into the country, and take free, healthy exercise. But probably this has been his salvation. Had he been a young man of strong physique, he could never, probably, have withstood the promptings of his own nature, together with those temptations of wine and women, by which he has been surrounded from his earliest years. That he should not have taken proper precautions for his own protection and that of his supporters is hardly wonderful, considering that from babyhood he has been treated as too august a personage even to be seen. Probably he had learnt to believe his will was law, and must be executed. It is little wonder if he now looks ill and his wife sorrowful, even if the suspicions of poison be unfounded.

"On February 20th, 1888, the Emperor of China went in person to the Temple of Heaven to pray for the harvest, with the usual ceremonies. The day before his Majesty passed in the Hall of Abstinence, in prayer, fasting, and meditation.

"On February 19th, at the fifth drum (the fifth watch, before daylight), the T`ai Ch`ang Sze (a high bureau entrusted with the arrangement of such ceremonials) placed a Yellow Table (the Imperial colour) in the Hall of Great Harmony, the T`ai-hwo Tien. South of the Emperor's seat was placed an incense-burner, shaped like a small pavilion; and in another similar erection, east of the left-hand pillars, stood a scroll, on which a sentence of prayer was painted in the choicest caligraphy. To the west of the right-hand pillars of the building stood yet another pavilion, to contain the mounted rolls of silk, which were painted with similar inscriptions. The Masters of Rites and the Readers of Prayers stood respectfully waiting outside the gate of the Hall of Great Harmony, holding in front of them the silken scrolls in baskets and the incense in bronze censers.

"The Chief of the Ceremonial Bureau, already mentioned, called by Mr. Mayers the Court of Sacrificial Worship, accompanied by other officers of the Bureau, was waiting inside the Hall; and when the time arrived, he proceeded, with the Imperial Astronomer, to the Gate of Pure Heaven, to announce to the Emperor that it was two quarters of the Hour of the Hare (i.e. 6.30 a.m.), and his Majesty issued from the above-named gate, riding in a sedan-chair, passed through the back left gate, and thus to the Hall of Great Harmony, where his sedan-chair was deposited at the northern steps, and he entered the building and stood in front of the left pillars, facing the west.

"Four officials of the Hanlin, or Imperial Academy of Literature, were standing outside the right-hand door of the building, facing east. The Readers of Prayers now issued from the inner cabinet, holding in front of them, respectfully elevated, prayers written on scrolls of paper, and entered the middle gate of the Hall of Great Harmony, the silken scrolls and incense being borne after them into the Hall. In front of them were borne a pair of incense-burners. The Masters of Rites, ten in number, conducted them, preceding them, and mounted the central steps as far as to the Vermilion Dais. The Readers of Prayers, those who bore the prayer-scrolls, and the bearers of silken scrolls and incense, having entered the central gate of the Hall, reverently laid down their burdens one by one on the Yellow Table, and retired after three k`otows (prostrations), touching the ground with the forehead.

"The Chief of the Court of Sacrifice then opened a prayer-scroll, and the Master of Rites spread a cushion on the ground. The Emperor advanced in front of the Yellow Table, and reverentially inspected the objects lying on it, after which he performed the genuflection called 'once kneel and thrice k´otow,' and then took up his position again, standing as before. The Chief of the Court of Sacrifice rolled up the prayer-scroll again, and the cushion on which the Emperor had just knelt was removed.

"The Readers of Prayers now advanced to the Yellow Table, and made three k´otows. They respectfully took from the table and bore aloft the prayer-scrolls, the silken scrolls, and the incense, which they deposited one by one in the graceful pavilionlike stand meant to receive them. With three more k´otows, they retired.

"The mandarin in charge of the incense now carried a box full of incense to the incense-stand, placed it gently there, and withdrew.

"The bearers of the prayer-scrolls then left the edifice by the central door, the stand containing the incense preceding them, and that which contains the silken scrolls following behind. The Chief of the Court of Sacrifice, kneeling, informed the Emperor that this part of the solemn rite was over.

"His Majesty mounted his sedan-chair again, and returned to the Palace.

"The clock struck 9 a.m., and the Emperor, in dragon robe and a cap of ermine surmounted by a knob of crimson velvet, issued from the Palace gate called the Pure Heaven Gate, seated in a summer chair borne by eight men. Passing successively through the back left gate, the centre left gate, and the Gate of Great Harmony, he arrived at the Mid-day Gate, where he descended from his sedan-chair, and ascended his great jade palanquin, borne on the shoulders of thirty-two men. As he mounted, the equerries-in-waiting held a vermilion ladder or flight of steps, leading up to the palanquin, to assist him in getting in. All the bearers were dressed in outer robes of red silk and inner robes of ash-coloured linen. On their feet were fast-walking boots of the same grey material, with thin soles, the upper part round the ankles being of black fur. They wore caps of leopard-skins, dappled as if with coins of gold, with red velvet plumes, kept in position by gold filigree plates, from which floated yellow feathers down their backs. The palanquin is eight feet high, and weighs about 1 ton 16 cwt.; but the bearers walked swiftly under its weight, like lightning-flashes or shooting stars rushing across the sky, and at every five hundred yards they were relieved by a fresh set of thirty-two men.

"When the Emperor ascended the great jade palanquin, the sedan with its eight bearers still followed him. Beside the palanquin walked two of the Chief Equerries to support it.

"Ahead of this stately procession rolled the five gigantic cars, ordinarily drawn by elephants, which animals were this year absent from the fête by permission of the Emperor, to whom the danger of their suddenly getting ungovernable had been pointed out.

"Behind the Imperial palanquin were marching ten men armed with spears hung with leopards' tails, ten men with swords, and a dozen men carrying bows and arrows, all representatives of the Tartar corps of the Body-guard.

"Behind them came walking about a hundred of the highest Manchu nobility, Princes, Emirs, sons of Emirs, Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, Assistant Chamberlains (who command in turn the Palace Guard), General Officers of the Brigade of Imperial Guards, the Comptroller of the Household, and the Prince of the Imperial blood who, as President of the Clan Court, preserves the Genealogical Record or Family Roll of the Ta Tsing Dynasty, all armed either with bows and arrows or with large swords. As soon as this noble company arrived outside of the Middle Gate, they all mounted their chargers, having before that been obliged to walk on foot.

"The rear was brought up by two Assistant Chamberlains, with their suite, bearing two immense yellow dragon standards.

"Outside the Mid-day Gate were kneeling a great number of civil and military mandarins in Court dresses, who may not accompany the procession, being not of sufficiently high rank, and so pay their respects to it thus as it defiles past.

"The stone road to the Temple of Heaven, which is about two and a half miles long, although not yet mended with stones as intended, looked neat, with all its inequalities hidden under a uniform covering of yellow soil. At the mouth of every road or street, whether within the wall of Peking or outside it, which ran into the route of the procession at right angles to its course, were mat sheds, draped outside with blue cloth, serving as tents for Chinese infantry (Green Standard), who mounted guard at each corner, armed with whips, to keep order and silence amongst the people in these streets. At every five paces of the road along which the procession passed stood a guardsman of the vanguard, in full uniform, sword by his side and whip in hand. The gates and doors of every house and shop were closed, and red silk decorations hung in festoons in front of them, all along the route; and in front of every sentry station were displayed bows and arrows, swords and spears, arranged in symmetrical order, with decorative lanterns and satin hangings. The Emperor, having arrived at the left gate of the brick wall of the Temple, exchanged his great jade palanquin for a sedan-chair with eight bearers only, and, on entering the west side of the sacred path inside the Left Gate of Prayers for the Year, descended, and on foot walked up to the Chamber of Imperial Heaven, holding a stick of incense burning in his hand in the prescribed manner, after which he inspected the victims (oxen, etc.) laid out there, the sacrificial vessels of bamboo and wood, and, returning to the west side of the sacred road, got into his sedan-chair again, went out at the Gate of Prayers for the Year, and repaired to the Hall of Abstinence, to pass a season in holy contemplation in the Immeasurable Chamber.

"The duty of patrolling the Temple of Heaven, etc., devolves upon the Princes of the Blood on these occasions. But Princes descended from chiefs of the Manchu Dynasty before their conquest of China, accompanied by the Emperor's aide-de-camp, the Chief of the Eunuchs, and other officers, kept patrol outside the apartment, when the Emperor, in the Immeasurable Chamber of his Hall of Abstinence, at four o'clock in the morning, commanded supper, which was duly served by the gentlemen-in-waiting, whilst the bronze statue bearing on its head the inscription 'Abstinence' was set up, fronting his Majesty as he sat.

"The Chief of the Court of Sacrifice, already mentioned, had arranged a prayer-mat on the ground outside the Chamber of Prayers for the Year, and had set up the Tablet of Shang Ti (the Supreme God) in the interior of the Chamber, facing south, with, on the right and left, the Tablets of the Emperor's Ancestors, facing east and west respectively. A great curtain had been hung up outside the door of the Chamber.

"The Emperor, in his sacrificial vestments embroidered with the golden dragon, a Court cap of white ermine on his head, surmounted with an immense pearl set in a gold ornament representing nine dragons, and a necklace of one hundred and eight precious pearls round his neck, issued from the Hall of Abstinence at the appointed hour, riding in a summer sedan-chair borne by eight men, entered the Temple, and reached the Left Gate of Prayers for the Year through the west gate of the brick wall of the Temple. Here alighting, he walked into the Chamber of Prayers for the Year, and adored Shang Ti (Supreme Ruler) and his own august ancestors. The animal victims and the sacrificial vessels of various sorts were here already laid out in the prescribed order.

"The Reader of Prayers knelt in front of his Majesty, holding up the prayer-scroll in both hands, and reverentially recited the prayer. As it was still dark inside the building, another official of the Court of Sacrifice knelt beside him with a candle to throw a clear light on the written words of the prayer. When the prayer had been read, the Emperor knelt three times, nine times k`otowing, then rose again to his feet. The incense-bearer brought the incense, the winecup-bearer brought the cup, the silk-bearer the silk, and the official with the cushion spread it on the floor. The Master of the Ceremonies then ushered his Majesty to his place. The Emperor knelt again thrice, and k`otowed nine times, and when he rose again the musicians played three antique airs.

"The paper ingots and the offerings of food from the carcases of the animal victims were held up and presented, as prescribed by ancient forms. Officers of the Board of Ceremonies, of the Court of Sacrificial Worship, and of the Court of Imperial Entertainments, holding respectively in both hands the prayer-scroll, the silken prayer-scrolls, and the incense-case, advanced to the great incense-burner, and solemnly burned all these objects to ashes. The Chief of the Court of Sacrificial Worship then knelt, and announced to the Emperor that the ceremony was finished.

"His Majesty, ascending the summer sedan-chair, returned to his chamber in the Hall of Abstinence, to change his attire and have some repose. Then getting into his palanquin again, he was carried through the inner and the outer gates of the Temple, the State musicians performing an ancient melody. The cortège, in the same order as before, passed through the Cheng Yang Gate, and the Emperor burned incense in the Buddhist Temple and the Temple of Kwan Ti (the God of War). There Taoist priests in full attire knelt to receive him at the left of the entrance. When this ceremony was finished, the Emperor passed through the Ta Tsing Gate, the music ceasing as the bell tolled out from over the Mid-day Gate. Passing through the T`ien Ngan Gate, the Tuan Gate, the Mid-day and the T`ai Hwo Gates, and the Chien Tsing Gate, he returned to his Palace in Peking, and the procession dispersed.

"The Emperor entered the Palace, paid his respects to the aged Empress, and went to his Cabinet.

"The knowledge that our Emperor thus worships the gods and reveres his ancestors so devoutly, and prays for the people that they may be fed and clothed, well protected, and happy all over the land, must surely fill us with loyalty and admiration for his august person."

"When the Mongol Princes come to Court at Peking from their country every year, they are presented by the Emperor with several hundreds of rolls of silk, and also with a sum of about £685 for travelling expenses, issued from the Board of Revenue through the Colonial Office. In case the Board of Revenue does not issue this money in time for the strangers to receive it before they start, the Colonial Office is empowered to issue it in advance, sending in an account to the Board of how it was distributed, as a mark of consideration for men from afar."

In 1891 a Chinese paper gives us a list of the china sent from the great porcelain works at King-teh-chen, near Kiukiang, for the Imperial household: "The usual supply for the year comprised 80 pieces of the finest quality and 1,204 round articles of a high-class kind. In addition to this there was a special indent for 1,414 plates, dishes, cups, and vases, to be distributed as presents on the occasion of the Emperor's birthday. The total cost amounted to £4,000; and as the yearly allowance is £1,500, there is a debit balance of £2,500, which will be deducted from the surplus remaining over from previous years."

In 1890 the Peking Gazette tells us that "Yu Hsiu, the director of the Imperial silk factories at Nanking, etc., applies for an extension of the time originally allowed him wherein to execute a special order for certain goods which the Emperor intends to distribute as presents. He states that in the eighth moon he received an order through the Office of Supernumeraries for embroidered robes, large and small rolls of satin and silk gauze, amounting in all to 4,183 pieces, to be ready for delivery in two months' time. As these are intended for presents, he naturally must devote all his time and attention thereto, and endeavour to have them ready as soon as possible; but he would point out that, of the embroidered robes, there are 210 requiring very careful fine work, and of the other articles 3,970 pieces of different patterns, forming a very large total, to complete which his machinery is inadequate. Under these circumstances, and considering that the appointed time for delivery is close at hand, he is afraid he will be unable to execute the order by the end of the tenth moon.

"The necessary funds for carrying on the work he estimates at £19,500, and he will, in concert with the Governor of the province, take measures to have this amount collected as soon as possible. He proposes, in the first instance, to raise the sum of £10,000, and at once set to work on the ceremonial robes; and some of the satin, together with the silk, he hopes to be able to deliver within the year as a first instalment. The remainder of the order he trusts will be ready by the spring. By this means he will have adequate funds to carry on the work as required, and greater care can be devoted to the finish of the various articles. As, however, he dare not do this on his own responsibility, he would ask the Imperial sanction to execute the order in the manner proposed.—Granted. Let the Yamen concerned take note."

In 1891 it is again the Peking Gazette that tells us on May 1st: "Of the one hundred and thirteen Manchu ladies presented to the Empress-Dowager to be selected as maids of honour, thirty-three were chosen and distributed about the Palace to learn their duties. Thirty were ordered to be placed on the list of expectants. The rest were sent back to their families, carrying with them gifts of much value."

Again the Peking Gazette tells us in 1891: "It is a long-standing custom of China in the spring of each year for the Emperor to perform the ceremony of offering a sacrifice to the Patron Saint of Agriculture, and for the Empress to offer a similar one to the Patron Saint of Silkworms. By these means it is intended to encourage agriculture and sericulture in the empire. The first sacrifice to the Patron Saint of Agriculture since the death of the Emperor Tung Chih was offered last spring by the present Emperor, who had not until that time taken over the reins of government. The fourth day of the third moon of the present year was appointed for offering a sacrifice to the Patron Saint of Sericulture. As her Majesty was wearing mourning for the late Prince Ch`ün, two maids of honour of the first grade were ordered to act on her behalf."

Prince Ch`ün was the father of the Emperor, a man held in high esteem; and of him the Peking Gazette says in 1891: "His innate humility and modesty made him receive such favours with ever-increasing awe and respect. He never once availed himself of the privilege which we granted him of using an apricot-yellow chair and, quoting the precedent established in the case of the Palace of Perpetual Harmony, he reverentially begged that his Palace, which had the good fortune to be the birthplace of an Emperor, should be reclaimed by the State."

In the photographs extant it may be noticed the youthful Emperor greatly resembles his father in appearance.

As giving a little further insight into the mediæval usages still observed in the Court at Peking, it may be interesting to notice that in 1891, "after the Clear-Bright Festival, the Court of Feasting, in accordance with the usual custom, presented forty different kinds of vegetables, such as cucumbers, French beans, cabbages, etc., to the Throne, for the use of the Imperial tables"; whilst the following extracts from different Chinese newspapers show some of the troubles of the Palace.

In 1891 the Hupao records: "The Imperial hunting preserves are outside the Yungting Gate of Peking. The park is twelve miles in extent, and contains trees of great size, hundreds of years old. It is stocked with wild animals of varied descriptions; predominating among them is the red-deer. As for the last twenty years no hunt has been organised [poor young Emperor never allowed to go out!], the game have greatly increased in numbers. The soldiers who keep guard over the place daily poach on the preserves, and of late the inhabitants round about the place have managed somehow to get within the walls and trap the deer. The market is full of red-deer meat, which the dealers term donkey flesh or beef, to evade inquiries on the part of the police. The authorities have finally got wind of the matter, and by strict watching caught three poachers, who have been handed over to the Board of Punishments. The guards have received a severe reprimand and stringent orders to prevent further poaching."

In old days the Manchus were a great hunting race, but they seem to have lost all manliness, all the men now vegetating upon the pensions assigned them since the conquest of China. But the Empress-Dowager, whom Chang-chih-tung, the incorruptible Viceroy of Hupeh, has openly accused of intercepting and appropriating to her own uses the money voted for the army and navy, continues to enjoy herself. And again a Chinese newspaper records: "The Empress-Dowager lately paid a visit to the garden built for her by the present Emperor, and took a trip on the Kun-ming Lake in a steam-launch." Whilst the Shenpao relates: "More than twenty large firms have taken over contracts for finishing the Eho Palace gardens, which have been built by the Emperor as a place of recreation for the Empress-Dowager, after her retirement from managing the arduous affairs of State. Her Majesty prefers to visit and stay in them during the summer, and the time appointed to have the gardens in a complete state for her reception is very near. More than ten thousand workmen have been engaged to hasten the work. Of these, three thousand or more are carvers, who have caused much trouble while working in other portions of the Imperial Palace ere this. Knowing that the date for completing the gardens was near at hand, they struck for higher wages, and in this demand all the carpenters joined. They were receiving individually three meals and about eightpence per diem. They demanded half a crown a day. On their employers refusing to comply with this exorbitant request, a signal gun, previously agreed upon, was fired, and thousands of workmen, carvers, carpenters, and masons began to make threatening demonstrations. The officials on guard, finding the police unable to cope with the multitude, especially as the carpenters were armed with axes, quickly sounded the alarm, calling on the rifle brigade, Yuen-ming-yuen guards, and cavalry for assistance. These came with all speed and surrounded the strikers. The officials and the head firms now began to negotiate, and all parties were satisfied with an increase of 8d. a day for each man."

Strikes and riots, indeed, it seems of late years have not been infrequent in Peking; and this account of Tientsin workmen may well follow here, as showing what has to be contended with:

"The Tientsin workmen engaged in the manufacture of iron rice-pans are, as a rule, desperate and lawless characters. They are divided into clans, and fighting seems to be their only pastime. When a row or a fire occurs, they are the first to be on the spot, quarrelling and fighting. Laws are inadequate to restrain them. Their motto is 'Death before cowardice,' and to their credit it must be said that even under the most harrowing tortures none of them have ever been known to cry for mercy. Any one showing weakness under physical suffering is boycotted by the rest of the gang; and he being a rowdy, and knowing no better, feels abjectly humiliated thereby, and considers life but a void when burdened by the curses of his sworn brethren. The authorities take great pains in putting down such lawlessness, but their efforts so far have not resulted in much success, as will be seen from the following occurrence. Some time during last winter a quarrel broke out between the patrolmen on one side and the rice-pan workmen on the other or east side of the river. The quarrel did not at first produce a fight, but sowed the seeds of hatred and thought of vengeance on the part of the rowdies. The New Year festivities seemed to reconcile all parties; but soon mistrust and suspicion again revived, and both sides prepared for battle. Great vigilance was observed, and they slept, as it were, with swords and spears ready by their sides. Such a state of things could not continue long. About a week ago, one cold and stormy night, about twelve o'clock, a band of rowdies five hundred strong, fully equipped, marched by stealth to the quarters of the guards, who were then all out on duty. The rowdies had the whole place to themselves. They tore down the barracks, seized the arms, and destroyed all personal effects. Leaving ruin and devastation in their wake, they turned their steps homewards, but were pursued and overtaken by the guards, who gathered to the number of several hundreds. A skirmish followed, resulting in the utter rout of the rowdies. Two of them were captured and several were wounded. The guards suffered also to some extent. When the soldiers from the garrison camps came upon the scene, both parties had disappeared."

The Tientsin men throughout the empire are known as rowdies, but the rowdies of the streets of Peking (possibly originally from Tientsin) are certainly the worst.

There are only two other men, who can be compared in position with the Emperor of China. One is the Emperor of Russia, also now a young man; the other is the Dalai Lama, popularly reputed to be never allowed to live beyond a certain very youthful age. The Peking Gazette of July 5th, 1891, says: "Sheng-tai, the Resident in Tibet, reports the fact that on the fifth day of the first moon of the present year the Dalai Lama did, in accordance with immemorial usage, descend from the mountain, and, accompanied by a large body of priests, proceed to the great shrine and offer up prayers for the welfare of the nation. Memorialist furnished him with a body-guard for his protection. The Dalai Lama appears to be able to keep his men well under control, and it is satisfactory to be able to report that throughout Tibet everything is in a peaceful condition."

Considering the case of these exalted personages, we may easily indulge in the somewhat hackneyed thankfulness that our lot has placed us in some humbler sphere. But just as it often seems to me in England, the poor rich get left out by all teachers, preachers, or other apostles of glad tidings; so let us at least not pass by on the other side, like the Pharisee of old, but pause to breathe a prayer for the three young men appointed, not by themselves, Emperor of Russia, Emperor of China, and Dalai Lama of Tibet!

CHAPTER II.
THE EMPRESS, THE EMPEROR, AND THE AUDIENCE.

According to Chinese usage or unwritten law, the concubine of an Emperor can never become Empress-Dowager; yet Tze Hsi, the concubine of the Emperor Hien Fêng, and mother of the late Emperor Tung Chih, has ruled over China in this capacity since 1871. For a time she nominally shared the power with Tze An, the childless widow of the Emperor Hien Fêng. In like manner for a while the youthful Kwang-shü, her step-sister's son, has been nominal Emperor. But the ease with which she resumed the reins in September, 1898, sufficiently shows that she had never really let go of them. Tze, which was also the name of the late Empress Tze An, means "parental love," whilst An means "peace." Hsi, the second name of the present Empress, means "joy," and is pronounced she. Tze Hsi is undoubtedly a remarkable woman. Besides having directed the destinies of China for twenty-seven years, without being in the least entitled to do so, she is said to be a brilliant artist, often giving away her pictures; and she also writes poetry, having even presented six hundred stanzas of her poetry to the Hanlin College. Some people suspect her of having been instrumental in causing the death of the Emperor Hien Fêng, as also of his and her son Tung Chih. She is more than suspected of having caused the death of her sister, the mother of the Emperor Kwang-shü. The two ladies had a violent altercation about the upbringing of the child, and two days after his mother died—of pent-up anger in the heart, it was announced. The beautiful Aleute, widow of her son Tung Chih, certainly died by her own hand, which is considered a very righteous act on the part of a widow; but had her mother-in-law, the Empress Tze Hsi, not thought that she might become a dangerous rival, probably Aleute would not have killed herself.

It is of course well known that Kwang-shü was not the natural successor to Tung Chih. He was simply chosen as Emperor by his ambitious aunt because he was the very youngest person who had any claim, and she thus secured to herself a longer lease of power. Her sister was notoriously averse to it, and the little Kwang-shü was stolen by the Empress Tze Hsi from his cradle to bear the burden of an honour unto which he was not born. The child is reported to have cried. He was then four years old. His father was the poetical Prince Ch`ün, who made one great tour, and wrote a collection of poems on the novel objects he saw during his travels. An Englishman, who knew him, describes him as rather jovial than otherwise, but his portrait hardly confirms this description. He was certainly respected during his lifetime, and after his death, as before mentioned, he was extolled in the Peking Gazette for the meekness with which he had abstained from arrogating to himself high place, in spite of being the father of an Emperor. Probably, however, his life would have ended sooner if he had, and he knew it. As it was, there were suspicious circumstances about his death, as some people thought there were about that of the Marquis Tseng, a former Chinese Minister very popular in England, whilst he resided here. Dr. Dudgeon, years ago a member of the London Mission, was his medical adviser, and he himself relates how Li Hung-chang, celebrated for his abrupt speeches, accosted him with, "Well, and how much did you get for poisoning the Marquis Tseng?" "I poison the Marquis Tseng! That was very foolish of me, considering he was my best-paying patient." Then, after a pause, "But if I did, how much was it your Excellency paid me to put him out of the way?" Li Hung-chang lay back in his chair and chuckled, not offended but delighted with the retort. But although the Marquis Tseng, there is every reason to suppose, died of illness, it seems impossible to say so of Prince Kung, who opposed the policy of the Empress Tze Hsi, and died almost directly afterwards, as was again said, of pent-up anger.

The quarrel between the Empress and her sister was about the method of education of the youthful Kwang-shü. The former is openly accused of having taught him to play cards and drink wine. And the marvel is, not that Kwang-shü is a young man of weak physique, and lacking in the characteristics of a Cromwell or a Bismarck, but that he is, in spite of all, a young man with aspirations and a real wish for his country's good. During all my stay in China I have never heard one single story to his disadvantage, except that at one time people had an idea he was subject to epileptic fits, which seems not to have been true, and that ten or twelve years ago I have heard it said that at times he had ungovernable fits of rage, during which he would throw anything that came handy at the heads of those who opposed him. This may have been true—he was but a boy at the time—but the story has never been confirmed, nor were those who told it the least confident that it was true. From Chinese I have heard but one account: "The Emperor is good. But what can he do?" Of the Empress, on the other hand, there seems but one opinion—that she loves money. Sometimes people add that she has taken with ardour to gambling. But never have I heard any Chinaman suggest that she had the least care of any sort for the interests of China or the Chinese. They do not speak of her as clever. They speak of her generally in connection with Li Hung-chang, the unscrupulous; and they shake their heads over them both. According to report, she has a piercing eye. But a lady, who had been some years in the Palace embroidering, seemed surprised at hearing this, and implied that she had never noticed it.

I have heard many descriptions of the young Kwang-shü. They all agree on one point—that he looks sorrowful. "Very sorrowful?" I asked the other day of an Englishman, who had seen him just before his deposition. "Yes, very sorrowful." "Sick and sorrowful? or more sorrowful than sick?" "More sorrowful than sick." A private letter I once saw, written by a man fresh from being present at an audience, gave the impression of his being altogether overcome by the youthful Emperor's sadness, which, as far as I remember, was described as a cloud, that seemed to envelop him, and remove him from the rest of the world. This sadness seemed to be heightened by an extreme sweetness of disposition. The youthful Emperor smiled on seeing the beautifully illuminated book in which the German address of congratulation was presented, looked at it for a moment, then laid it down, and once more was so full of sorrow it was impossible to contemplate him without emotion. If my memory serves me, the writer used stronger, more high-flown expressions than I am daring to make use of. Repeating them at the time to the Secretary who had accompanied the British Minister, I asked him if the Emperor had made at all the same impression upon him. He paused a moment, looking grave; then said firmly, "Yes, I think quite the same."

Here is an extract from an account written on the occasion of the audience of the Diplomatic Corps in 1891:

"All interest, however, centred in the Emperor himself. He looks younger even than he is, not more than sixteen or seventeen. Although his features are essentially Chinese, or rather Manchu, they wear a particular air of personal distinction. Rather pale and dark, with a well-shaped forehead, long, black, arched eyebrows, large, mournful, dark eyes, a sensitive mouth, and an unusually long chin, the young Emperor, together with an air of great gentleness and intelligence, wore an expression of melancholy, due, naturally enough, to the deprivation of nearly all the pleasures of his age and to the strict life which the hard and complicated duties of his high position force him to lead. As he sat cross-legged, the table in front hid the lower part of his person. In addressing Prince Ch´ün, he spoke in Manchu rather low and rapidly, being perhaps a little nervous."

And now it may be well to give a translation of the best account I know, that of the Ost Asiatische Lloyd, of the audience of the Foreign Ministers in Peking at the celebration of the sixtieth birthday of the Empress-Dowager.

"Early in the present month the Representatives of the Treaty Powers in Peking were officially informed by Prince Kung, the new President of the Tsung-li Yamen, that the Emperor desired to receive the Foreign Ministers in audience in celebration of the sixtieth birthday of the Empress ex-Regent; and, further, that, as a special mark of good-will, the audience would be held within the precincts of the Inner Palace—i.e. in the so-called 'Forbidden City.' This audience took place on Monday, November 12th.

"The theatre of this solemn function of State was the Hall of Blooming Literature, a somewhat ancient building in the south-east quarter of the Palace, which is used for the annual Festival of Literature, held in the second month, on which occasion the Emperor receives addresses on the Classics from distinguished members of the Hanlin College. According to a Japanese work, entitled A Description of Famous Places in the Land of Tang (i.e. China), which gives an illustrated description of the ceremony, all the Presidents and Vice-Presidents of the different Ministries in Peking, as well as high office-bearers, have then to be present.

"On the present occasion the Representatives of the Foreign Powers and their suites entered by the Eastern Flowery Gate, which is the sole entrance in the east wall of the Inner Palace. The sedans were left there, and the visitors proceeded on foot through a wide walled-in courtyard, past the Palace garden, to the Hall of Manifested Benevolence, a smaller threefold building in which formerly offerings were made to the mythical Emperors and to the ancient worthies, and which was utilised on this occasion as waiting-room for the Ambassadors. These were now received by the Princes and Ministers of the Tsung-li Yamen, and thence conducted, after a short delay, through the Wen-hua pavilion. From there the Envoys and their suites were conducted to the audience chamber by two Palace officials, and then led to the throne by two Ministers of the Tsung-li Yamen. At twenty minutes before twelve o'clock the doyen of the Diplomatic Corps, the Ambassador of the United States, was presented, while the others followed in order of seniority. The remainder of the ceremony was carried out as at previous audiences. The Ambassador, followed by his suite, approached the dais with three bows, and saluted the Emperor seated thereon at the top of a flight of steps: he then spoke a few words commemorating the solemn occasion. The letter of felicitation from his sovereign was then handed in, after each respective Embassy interpreter had translated it into Chinese; it was then taken by Prince Kung or Prince Ch`ing, who stood at the Emperor's side and acted alternately with each presentation, and translated by them into Manchu. The Prince in question then laid the letter on a table covered with yellow silk before the Emperor. The monarch inclined his head as he received it, then spoke a few sentences in an audible tone to the Prince kneeling at his left, in which he expressed his delight and satisfaction. The Prince, after leaving the dais, repeated the Emperor's words in Chinese to the interpreter, who again repeated them in the language of his country to the Ambassador.

"This completed the audience: the Ambassador left the hall bowing, with the same ceremonies, and conducted as on entering. Oriental ceremonial was thus conspicuously and worthily maintained.

"The Wen-hua-tien has three entrances in its southern wall, led up to by three flights of stone steps: as long as the Ambassador was the bearer of the Imperial handwriting, he was given the most honoured way of approach, that is, the great central staircase and the centre door, which otherwise are only made use of by the Emperor in person; the exits were made through the side door on the left.

"The proceedings were characterised by a distinct majesty of demeanour. As mentioned above, the Emperor was seated on a raised dais at a table hung with yellow silk; behind him were the customary paraphernalia—the screen and the peacock fan; at his right stood two Princes of the Imperial House; at his left the Prince of Ke Chin and Prince Kung or Prince Ch`ing. In the hall itself two lines of guards carrying swords were formed up, behind which stood eunuchs and Palace officers. The most interesting feature in the whole ceremony was of course the person of the youthful monarch, clad in a sable robe and wearing the hat of State. His unusually large brilliant black eyes gave a wonderfully sympathetic aspect to his mild, almost childish countenance, increased, if anything, by the pallor due to a recent fever.

"Upon leaving the hall of audience, a strikingly picturesque scene disclosed itself. On either side (i.e. east and west, from the open staircase leading south) were displayed the long rows of the Palace gardens in form of a hollow bow. In front and rear swarms of officials were moving about, clad in long robes, with the square, many-coloured emblems of their respective ranks embroidered on them behind and before; with all their air of business no haste or hurry could be perceived. Everything was being done in the solemn and majestic manner characteristic of the Chinese official style. Turning to the right, one noticed, at the extreme edge of the wide court, the high wall covered with glazed yellow tiles which encloses the long row of the central halls of the Palace, and again to the south of these the threefold Tso-yi-men, or 'Left Gate of Righteousness,' and beyond that, but towering far above it, the mighty construction of the Tai-ho Hall, which by its architectural features is the most conspicuous building in the whole Imperial City. As in everything Chinese, the effect was produced not so much by the execution of the details as by the vastness of the proportions and the majesty of the surroundings.

"The Wen-hua-tien itself is an old building, sixty or more feet in width and of almost the same depth, which had been arranged as well as might be for the occasion. The entrance was adorned with silken hangings and rosettes, and pillars had been erected on the stone staircases adorned with dragons, with yellow silk wound round them; the centre steps and the floor were carpeted. It cannot, however, be denied that the Wen-hua-tien is not comparable either with the Cheng-kuang-tien or the Tze-kuang-ko, the two halls in which the former audiences were held, either in size or in its internal arrangements. On the other hand, we cannot sufficiently congratulate ourselves on the fact of the Chinese Court having at last resolved to open the door of the 'Inner Palace' to the Foreign Representatives. These doors have been so long and anxiously guarded, that it was a hard matter for the Court to give way in the weary discussions over the audience question—how hard may be inferred from the number of years it has taken to bring about this final solution."