Court Life in China by Isaac Taylor Headland (page 4)

“Yes,” they continued, “we will see that it is dressed.”

After attending to the woman, and again urging them to dress the child, I wrapped my warm cloak around me and started home, though I could not forget the child.

“It is a cold night,” I said to the driver as we started on our way.

“Yes,” he answered, “there will be some uncomfortable people in the city to-night.”

“In that house we just left,” I continued, for I could not banish the child from my thoughts, “there was a little child playing on the bed without a shred of trousers on.”

“Quite right,” said he; “they pawned the trousers of that child to get money to pay me for taking you to see the sick woman.”

“To pay you!” said I, with indignation, and yet with admiration for the character of the people for whom I was giving my services–“to pay you! Then drive right back and give them their money and tell them to go and redeem those trousers and put them on the child!”

“The city gate will be closed before we can reach it if I return,” said he, “and we will not be able to get in to-night.”

“No matter about that,” I insisted, “go back and give them the money.”

He turned around with many mutterings, lashed up his mule at the top of his speed, gave them the money, and then started on a gallop for the city gate. It was a rough ride in that springless cart over the rutty roads. But my house seemed warmer that night and my bed seemed softer after I had paid the carter myself.

Among my friends and patients none are more interesting than the Misses Hsu. They are very intelligent, and after I had become well acquainted with them I said to them one day:

“How is it that you have done such wide reading?”

“You know, of course,” they said, “that our father is a chuang yuan.”

I asked them the meaning of a chuang yuan. Then I learned that under the Chinese system a great many students enter the examinations, and those who secure their degree are called hsiu tsai; a year or two later these are examined again, and those who pass are given the degree of chu jen; once more these latter are examined and the successful candidates are called chin shih, and are then ready for official position. They continue to study, however, and are allowed to go into the palace, where they are examined in the presence of the Emperor, and those who pass are called han lin, or forest of pencils. Once in three years these han lins are examined and one is allowed to obtain a degree–he is a chuang yuan.

Out of four hundred million people but one is allowed this degree once in three years.

“Your father must be a very great scholar,” I remarked.

“He has always been a diligent student,” they answered, modestly.

“What is his given name?” I inquired, one day.

“If you will give me a pencil I will write it for you; we never speak the given name of our father in China,” said the eldest, and she wrote it down.

“How many sisters are there in your family–eight, are there not?”

“Yes. You know, of course, that number five was engaged when a child of six to the son of Li Hung-chang.”

“No, I was not aware of the fact; and were they married?”

“No, they were never married. The young man died before they were old enough to wed. When word of his death was brought to her, child that she was, she went to our mother and told her she must never engage her to any one else, as she meant to live and die the widow of this boy.”

“And did she go to Li Hung-chang’s home?”

“No, the old Viceroy wanted to take her to his home, build a suite of rooms for her, and treat her as his daughter-in-law, but our parents objected because she was so young. The Viceroy loved her very much, and his eyes often filled with tears as he spoke of her and the son who had passed away. When the Viceroy died she wanted to go and kotow at his funeral, and all his family except the eldest son were anxious to have her do so, and thus be recognized as one of the family. But this son objected, and though Lady Li knocked her head on the coffin until it bled he would not yield, lest she might want her portion.”

“And what has become of your sister? How is it that I have never seen her?”

“She withdrew to a small court, where she has lived with none but her women servants, not even seeing our father or brothers, and not allowing a male servant to go near her. And she will not permit the word Li to be spoken in her presence.”

“And what does she do?” I asked. “How does she employ herself?”

“Studying, reading, painting, and embroidery. When young Li refused to allow her to attend his father’s funeral her sense of self-respect was outraged and she cut off her hair and threatened to commit suicide. She often fasts for a week, and has tried on several occasions to take her own life.”

I asked them if they did not fear that she might succeed finally in this attempt to kill herself.

“Yes, we have constant apprehensions. But then, what if she did? It would only emphasize her virtue.”

It was some months after the young ladies told me what I have just related that they called, for they had taken up the study of English and I had agreed to help them a bit.

“How is your sister?” I inquired, for the sad fate of this young girl weighed like a burden on my heart.

“She fasted more than usual during the early summer, but she bathed daily and changed her clothes, dressing herself in her most beautiful garments. She had not been sleeping well for some time, and one day she ordered her women to leave her and not return until they were called. They remained away until a married sister and a sister-in-law-a niece of Li Hung-chang–called and wanted to see her. We went to her room but found it locked. We knocked but received no answer. We finally punched a hole through the paper window and saw her sitting on her brick bed, her head bolstered up with cushions and her eyes closed. We supposed she was sleeping, but on forcing open the door we found that she had gone to join her boy husband, though her colour and appearance was that of a living person.”

“And are you sure she had not swooned?”

“She remained in this condition for twenty-two hours without pulse or heart beat, and so we put her in her casket.”

I could not but feel sad that I had not been in the city, and had had an opportunity to help them to ascertain whether her life had really gone out. But the girls seemed proud of the distinction of having had a sister of such consummate virtue. Numerous embroidered scrolls and laudatory inscriptions were sent her from friends of the Li family as well as of their own, and it is expected that the throne will order a memorial arch erected to her memory.

On another occasion I was requested to go to the palace of one of the princes. The fourth Princess, a beautiful little child of five, was ill with diphtheria, and the first greeting of the mother as I went in was that she “was homesick to see me.” The child had been ill for several days before they sent for me, and I told them at once that the case was dangerous. I wanted to do all I could for them and at the same time protect my own children from the danger of infection. After the first treatment with antitoxin she seemed to rally, her throat cleared up, but I soon found that the poison had pervaded her entire system, and so I stayed with her day and night.

I found that the child had contracted the disease from another about her own age, who was both her playmate and her slave. It is the custom among the wealthy to purchase for each daughter a companion who plays with her as a child, becomes a companion in youth and her maid when she marries. These slaves are usually treated well, and when this one became ill the members of the family visited her often, taking her such dainties as might tempt her appetite. As a result I had to administer antitoxin to eight of the younger members of the household, so careless had they been about the spread of this disease; indeed I have found that the isolation of patients suffering from contagious diseases is wholly unknown in China.

One of the most attractive of all my Chinese lady friends and patients is the niece of the great Viceroy, Li Hung-chang, the daughter of his brother, Li Han-chang, who is himself a viceroy. I have been her physician for eighteen years or more and hence have become intimately acquainted with her. She has visited me very often in my home and, of all the women I have ever known, of any race or people, I have never met one whom I thought more cultured or refined than she. This may seem a strange statement, but the quiet dignity that she manifested on all occasions and her charming manners are not often met with. I have never felt on entering a drawing-room such an atmosphere of refinement as seemed to surround her.

That the Chinese take very kindly to foreign medicine there is no doubt, though it is sometimes amusing how they go back to their own native methods.

One day my husband brought home a physiological chart about the size of an ordinary man. It was covered with black spots and I asked him the reason for them.

“That is what I asked the dealer from whom I bought it,” he replied, “and he told me that those spots indicate where the needle can be inserted in treatment by acupuncture without killing the patient.”

When a Chinese is ill the doctor generally concludes that the only way to cure him is to stick a long needle into him and let out the pain or set up counter irritation. If the patient dies it is evident he stuck the needle into the wrong spot. And this chart has been made up from millions of experiments during the past two or three thousand years from patients who have died or recovered.

This was practically illustrated by a woman who was brought to the hospital. Having had pain in the knee she sent for a Chinese physician who concluded that the only method of relieving her was by acupuncture. He therefore inserted a needle which unfortunately pierced the synovial sac causing inflammation which finally resulted in complete destruction of the joint. Such cases are not infrequent both among adults and children in all grades of society, due to this method of treatment.

One day I was called to see a lady who was in immediate need of surgical treatment. She had three sons who were in high official positions in the palace, and if their mother died they would have to withdraw from official life and go into mourning for three years. When men are thus compelled to resign the new incumbent is not inclined to restore the office when the period of mourning is over. They were therefore doubly anxious to have their mother recover. They had tried all kinds of Chinese physicians and finally sent for me.

I explained the nature of the operation necessary, and gave them every reason to hope for a speedy recovery, while without surgical treatment she must surely die. They consented and the operation was successful. She recovered rapidly for a few days until I regarded her as practically out of danger. But one day when I called I found her bathed in perspiration, shaking with fear, weeping and depressed. Her wound was in an excellent condition and I could find no reason for her despondency. I cheered her up, laughed and talked with her, gave her such articles of diet as she craved, and left her happy. The next day I again found her in the same nervous condition.

“Something is wrong with your mother of which you have not told me,” I said to her son.

“Before we sent for you,” he said, “we had called a spirit doctor, who went into a sort of trance, claimed to have descended into the spirit world where he saw them making a coffin which he said my mother would occupy before the fifteenth of the month. It is because that time is approaching that she is filled with fear.”

I talked with the lady, showed her how her wound was healing, encouraged her to rest easy until the fifteenth, when I would spend the day with her, after which she immediately began gaining strength and soon recovered.

At another time I was called to see the wife of the president of the Board of Punishments. I found an operation necessary. The next day I found the patient delirious with a fever, and asked the husband if my directions had been followed.

“I assure you they have,” he answered. “But the cause of the fever is this: Last evening while the servants were taking their meal she was left alone for a short time. While they were absent, her sister who lived on this street, a short distance from here, committed suicide. When the servant discovered it she ran directly to my wife’s room, and told her of the tragedy. My wife began to tremble, had a severe chill, and soon became delirious. I suspect that her sister’s spirit accompanied the servant and entered my wife.”

In spite of this explanation I cleaned and dressed the wound and left her more comfortable. The next morning she was somewhat better, without fever and in her right mind.

“What kind of a night did she have?” I asked her husband.

“Oh, very good,” he answered. “I managed to get the spirit out of her.”

“How did you do it?” I inquired.

“Soon after you left yesterday, I dressed myself in my official garments, came into my wife’s apartments, and asked the spirit if it would not like to go with me to the yamen, adding that we would have some interesting cases to settle. I felt a strange sensation come over me and I knew the spirit had entered me. I got into my cart, drove down to the home of my sister-in-law, went in where the corpse lay, and told the spirit that it would be a disgrace to have a woman at the Board of Punishments. ‘This is your place,’ I said, in an angry voice; ‘get out of me and stay where you belong.’ I felt the spirit leaving me, my fingers became stiff and I felt faint. I had only been at the Board a short time when they sent a servant to tell me that my wife was quiet and sleeping. When I returned in the evening the fever was gone and she was rational.”

XVIII

The Funeral Ceremonies of a Dowager Princess

There are five degrees of mourning, as follows:–For parents, grandparents and great-grandparents; for brothers and sisters; for uncles and aunts; and for distant relatives. In the first sackcloth without hem or border; in the second with hem or border; in the third, fourth and fifth, pieces of sackcloth on parts of the dress. When sackcloth is worn, after the third interval of seven days is over the mourners can cast it off, and wear plain colours, such as white, gray, black and blue. For a parent the period is nominally three years, but really twenty-seven months, during all which time no silk can be worn; during this time officials have to resign their appointments, and retire from public life. –Dyer Ball in “Things Chinese.”

XVIII

THE FUNERAL CEREMONIES OF A DOWAGER PRINCESS[5]

[5] Taken from Mrs. Headland’s note-book.

One day I received a large sheet of white paper on which was written in Chinese characters the announcement of the death of the Dowager Princess Su, and inviting me to the “third-day exercises.” The real meaning of this “chieh san” I did not comprehend, but I knew that those who were invited sent presents of cakes or fruit, or baskets of paper flowers, incense, gold and silver ingots made of paper, or rolls of paper silk, all of which were intended for the use of the spirit of the departed. The paper presents were all burned on the evening of the third day, while the spirit feasted upon the flavour of the fruit and cakes.

As I did not feel that it was appropriate for me to send these things, I had a beautiful wreath of white chrysanthemum flowers made, and sent that instead. While I appreciated the invitation, I thought it was probably given only as a matter of form, and that I was not expected to attend the exercises, and so I sent my Chinese maid with the wreath, saying that as I did not understand their customs I would not go.

It was not long until the maid returned saying that they were anxious to have me come, that under no circumstances must I refuse, as they wished me to see their funeral ceremonies. The Princess sent her cart for me, and according to the Chinese custom, I took my maid seated upon the front, and set out for Prince Su’s palace. As we neared our destination we passed numerous carts and chairs of princes who had been at the palace to pay their respects. The street leading off the great thoroughfare was filled with carts, chairs, servants and outriders, but the utmost order prevailed. There were scores of soldiers and special police, the latter dressed in long garments of gray with a short jacket of white on the breast of which was his number in black. These gray and white uniforms were mourning colours, and were given by the Prince.

As we entered the gate we saw white-robed servants everywhere, each with a sober face and a dignified bearing, waiting to be of use. My name was announced and two servants stepped out from the crowd, clothed from head to feet in white sackcloth, one presenting his arm to help me through the court, as though I were a bound-footed woman, and the other led the way. We were taken by a roundabout path, through numerous courts and passages, the front being reserved for the male guests, and were finally ushered into a room filled with white-robed women servants, who with one accord bent their knee in a low courtesy.

We were there met by the first and third Princesses, daughters of the Dowager who had just passed away. They were dressed in white, their hair being put up in the Manchu fashion. Instead of the jewels and bright flowers, however, it was crossed and recrossed with bands of white folded sackcloth. As these two ladies were married daughters, and had left this home, their sackcloth was not so coarse as that of the daughters-in-law and granddaughters who dwelt in the palace. It was they who received the guests and conducted them into the room where the mourners were kneeling.

As the white door screen was raised I saw two rows of white-robed figures kneeling on the floor, and as I entered they all bent forward and touched their head to the ground, giving forth as they did it a low, wailing chant.

Not knowing their customs I went up and stooped over, speaking first to the Princess and then to the ladies as best I could. I afterwards watched the other lady visitors and saw that they put their right hand up near their head as our soldiers salute, and courtesied to the Princess, her daughter-in-law and her eldest daughter. They then went over to a little table on which was a silver sacrificial set, consisting of a wine tankard, a great bowl, and a number of tiny cups holding but two tablespoonfuls. They took the cup in its little saucer, and, facing the beautiful canopied catafalque where the Dowager Princess was lying in state, they raised the cup as high as their head three times, emptying and refilling it each time. The mourners prostrated themselves and gave forth a mournful wail each time the cup was poured, after which the visitor arose and came over to where we were, and the ceremony was over.

The third daughter of the late Dowager seemed to regard me as her special friend and guest, and insisted on my coming over to a white curtain that separated us from the view of the gentlemen, and from there I watched the proceedings of princes and officials who went through a similar ceremony. There was this difference with them, however, as they entered through the great canopied court, they were conducted by white-robed servants directly to the altar, and there kneeling, they made their obeisance to the spirit of the departed, after which they went into the room where the Prince and the other male descendants of the dead Dowager were kneeling and prostrating themselves.

There was a heavy yellow curtain over the door that led into the sacrificial hall, and when the servants from without announced a visitor, this curtain was drawn aside, and as the guest and a flood of light entered, the mourners began their wailing which they continued until he had departed. These visitors remained but a moment, while the ladies who were there were all near relatives, and were dressed either entirely or partially in sackcloth.

The room in which these ladies knelt was draped in white. The cushions were all covered with white, and all porcelain and other decorations had been removed. The floor was covered with a heavy rope matting, on which the ladies knelt–all except the Princess, for whom was prepared a small dark blue felt cushion. The Princess knelt at the northwest corner of the room, directly in front of the curtain which separated them from the sacrificial hall. Several of the very near male relatives entered and gave the low Manchu courtesy to the Princess, the son’s wife, and the eldest daughter, though none of the other kneeling ladies were recognized. They left immediately without, so far as I noticed, raising their eyes.

The Prince, his sons and the other mourners in the men’s room were clothed in white fur, and the servants too, who stood in the sacrificial hall, and at intervals along the way towards the hall, wore white fur coats instead of sackcloth.

To the left of the Princess there knelt in succession all the secondary wives of Prince Su, and if I mistake not there were five of these concubines. Behind the Princess knelt her son’s wife–the future Princess Su, and on her left, the daughters and granddaughters of the Prince knelt in succession. The Princess and secondary princesses had bands of sackcloth wound around their heads, though their hair hung down their backs in two long braids, and as I had never seen these princesses except when clothed in beautifully embroidered satin garments, with hair put up in elaborate coiffures, decked with jewels and flowers, and faces painted and powdered in the proper Manchu fashion, it was not easy to recognize them in these white-robed, yellow-faced women, with hair hanging down their backs.

The grandson’s wife and granddaughters, on the other hand, had their hair combed, but the long hairpin was of silver instead of jade or gold, and instead of being decorated with jewels and flowers, and a red cord, it was crossed and recrossed with bands of folded sackcloth an inch and a half in width. It was neat and very effective–the black hair and white cloth making a pretty contrast to the Western eye, though it would probably not be so considered by the Chinese.

After I had watched them for a few moments I said to the princess who accompanied me:

“I must not intrude upon your time longer; you have been very kind to allow me to witness all these interesting customs.”

“Oh, but you must not go now,” she insisted; “you must remain and see the arrival of the priests, and the burning of the paper houses, goods, chattels, and images on the great street. I want you to understand all our customs, and this is the greatest and most interesting day of the funeral ceremonies.”

I urged that I ought not to intrude myself upon them at this time.

“No, no,” she said, “you must not say that. It is not intrusion; you must stay and dine with us this evening.”

When I still insisted upon going she said that if I went they would feel that I did not care for them, and she was so persistent that I consented to remain if the maid might be sent home to the children, which they at once arranged for.

In the interval between the arrival of male guests, the ladies took me out into a large canopied court to see the decorations, and into the sacrificial hall. These ceremonies were all conducted in the house and court which the Dowager Princess had occupied, and where I had often gone to see her when she wanted to thank me for some medical attention I had given her children or grandchildren.

As we passed through the great gate, I noticed that the court was covered with a mat pavilion making a room about one hundred and fifty feet square, lighted by great squares of glass near the top, and decorated with banners of rich brocade silks or satins, of sober colours, blue, gray or white, on which were texts extolling the virtues of the late Dowager or her family. These were the gifts of friends, who had been coming and would continue to come for days if not weeks.

At the north end as one came in at the gate was a gallery running the whole length of the northern court, fitted up with special hangings which separated it into different compartments. Many elegant banners and decorations gave it a striking effect. This was the place where the priests, who had not yet arrived, were to say their prayers day and night until the funeral ceremonies were over.

Directly in front of the catafalque, in the gallery, there was a table on which I afterwards saw the priests place a silver vessel which the head priest carried, and the others regarded with much solemnity.

From the gateway leading into the sacrificial hall the floor of the court had been raised even with the door of the house and the gate, a height of about five feet, and forty feet wide, and was covered with the same kind of rope matting that was on the floors. On the canopied verandas there were stacks of cakes, incense, fruit and money. These were the most novel sights I have ever seen in China. They were ten or twelve feet high. They were a very pretty sight, and it required some scrutiny to discover that they were made of cakes and fruit. How they were able to build them thus, tier upon tier, and prevent their falling when they were touched is beyond my comprehension. What magic there is in it I do not know.

As one entered the door of the sacrificial hall, towering above everything else, was the great catafalque, draped in cloth of gold, and in front of it were stacks of these sacrificial cakes. Near them there was a table on which there were great white, square candles, five inches or more in diameter, the four sides of which were stamped with figures of fairies and immortals. On this table there were also various savoury dishes, together with cakes and fruit, prepared to feed the spirit of the dead. In front of this table again there was another about a foot high on which were placed the sacrificial wine vessels, and before which the guests knelt. As we entered I saw the gentlemen kneeling to the left, while the ladies, separated from them by white curtains, were kneeling to the right.

After we had seen the various customs without, I was taken into the dining-room, where I sat down with the young Princess and her two aunts, daughters of the Dowager. They were very kind and polite, and did all in their power to make me feel at home. We were attended by white-robed eunuchs, who knelt when they spoke to the Princess. There was such a lot of them.

“How many servants do you use ordinarily?” I asked the eldest daughter.

“About four hundred,” she replied.

I thought of the task of robing four hundred servants in new white sackcloth, and attending to all the other things that I had seen, in the forty-eight hours since the death of the Dowager Princess. Even the bread, instead of being dotted with red as it is ordinarily, was dotted with black!

As we were finishing our supper we heard the horns of the priests and went to see them arrive. Prince Su, and the other male members of the family, went out to the door to receive them, but we remained within. They first went to the gallery, then the head priest came down into the sacrificial hall and made nine prostrations before the catafalque, without, however, pouring or offering wine. After each third prostration he stood up and raised his clasped hands to a level with his eyes. They then began their weird music, standing on the two sides of the raised platform between the gate and the house, thus allowing a passageway between them for the guests.

The Princess told me that they were about to form a procession to go to the great street. I therefore took my leave in order that I might precede them and see the procession arrive, and witness the burning of the presents for the spirit.

When I arrived on the great street I there beheld a paper cart and horses which were intended to transport the spirit to the eastern heaven. There was a sedan chair for her use after her arrival, numerous servants, money, silk, and a beautiful, big house for her to dwell in, all made of paper. I had not long to wait for the procession, which was headed by the priests playing mournful, wailing music on large and small horns and drums. The priests were followed by the mourners and their friends. When they arrived at the place of the burning, the mourners prostrated themselves upon white cushions before the paper furnishings amid the shrieks of the instruments, the wailing of the hired mourners, and the petitions of the priests for the spirits to assist the departed on her way.

While this was going on, fire was applied to various parts of the paper pile, and in a moment a great flame sprang up into the air–a flame that could be seen from miles around, and in less time than it takes to tell it the whole was a heap of glowing ashes, the mourners had departed, and the little street children were stirring it up with long sticks.

The first three days after death, the spirit is supposed to visit the different temples, going, as it were, from official court to official court receiving judgment, and cards of merit or demerit to take with it, for the deeds done in the body. On the third day it returns to say farewell to the home, and then leaves for its long journey, and all this paper furniture is sent on ahead.

They continue forty-nine days of prayers by the priests, alternating three days by the Buddhists, three by the Lamas, and three by the Taoists, after which the Buddhists take their turn again. Everything else remains much as I have described it. The family, servants, everybody in mourning, and all business put aside to make way for this ceremony of mourning, mourning, mourning, when they ought to be rejoicing, for the poor old Princess had been a paralytic for years and was far better out of her misery.

The Princess frequently sent her cart for me during these days. Once when I was going through the court where there were vast quantities of things to be burned for the spirit, all made of paper, I noticed some that were so natural that I was unable to distinguish between them and the real things. Especially was this true of the furniture and flowers like that which had been in her apartments. There were great ebony chairs with fantastically marked marble seats, cabinets, and all the furniture necessary for her use. Among these things I noticed on the table a pack of cards and a set of dice, of which she had been very fond, and a chair like the one in which the eunuchs had carried the crippled old Princess about the court, and I said to the young Princess who accompanied me:

“You do not think your grandmother will require these things in the spirit world, do you?”

“Perhaps not,” she replied, “but she enjoyed her cards and dice, and the chair was such a necessity, that, whether she needs them or not, it is a comfort to us to get and send her everything she liked while she lived, and it helps us bear our sorrows.”

XIX

Chinese Princes and Officials

In any estimate of the forces which lead and control public opinion in China, everywhere from the knot of peasants in the hamlet to the highest officers of state and the Emperor himself, the literati, or educated class, must be given a prominent position. They form an immense body, increased each year by the government examinations. They are at the head of the social order. Every civil officer in the empire must be chosen from their number. They constitute the basis of an elaborate system of civil service, well equipped with checks and balances which, if corrected and brought into touch with modern life and thought, would easily command the admiration of the world. –Chester Holcomb in “The Real Chinese Question.”

XIX

CHINESE PRINCES AND OFFICIALS

One day while the head eunuch from the palace of one of the leading princes in Peking was sitting in my study he said:

“It is drawing near to the New Year. Do you celebrate the New Year in your honourable country?”

“Yes,” I replied, “though not quite the same as you do here.”

“Do you fire off crackers?”

“Yes, in the matter of firecrackers, we celebrate very much the same as you do.”

“And do you settle up all your debts as we do here?”

“I am afraid we do not. That is not a part of our New Year celebration.”

“Our Prince is going to take on two more concubines this New Year,” he volunteered.

“Ah, indeed, I thought he had three concubines already.”

“So he does, but he is entitled to five.”

“I should think it would make trouble in a family for one man to have so many women,” I ventured.

He waved his hand in that peculiar way the Chinese have of saying, don’t mention it, as he answered:

“That is a difficult matter to discuss. Naturally if this woman sees the Prince talking to that one, this one is going to eat vinegar,” which gives us a glimpse of some of the domestic difficulties in Chinese high life. However it is a fact worth remembering that the Manchu prince does not receive his full stipend from the government until he has five concubines, each of whom is the mother of a son.

The leading princes of the new regime are Ching, Su, and Pu-lun. Prince Ching has been the leader of the Manchus ever since the downfall of Prince Kung. He has held almost every office it was in the power of the Empress Dowager to give, “though disliked by the Emperor.” He was made president of the Tsung-li Yamen in 1884, and from that time until the present has never been degraded, or in any way lost the imperial favour. He is small in stature, has none of the elements of the great man that characterized Li Hung-chang and Chang Chih-tung, or Prince Kung, but he has always been characterized by that diplomacy which has kept him one of the most useful officials in close connection with the Empress Dowager. It is to his credit moreover that the legations were preserved from the Boxers in the siege of 1900.

Prince Su is the only one of the eight hereditary princes who holds any office that brings him into intimate contact with the foreigners. During the Boxer siege he gave his palace for the use of the native Christians, and at the close was made collector of the customs duties (octoroi) at the city gates. Never had there been any one in charge of this post who turned in as large proportion of the total collections as he. This excited the jealousy of the other officials, and they said to each other: “If Prince Su is allowed to hold this position for any length of time there will never be anything in it for any one else.” They therefore sought for a ground of accusation, and they found it, in the eyes of the conservatives, in the fact that he rode in a foreign carriage, built himself a house after the foreign style of architecture, furnished it with foreign furniture, employed an Englishman to teach his boys, and as we have seen opened a school for the women and girls of his family. He therefore lost his position, but it is to the credit of Prince Chun, the new Regent, and his progressive policy, that Prince Su has been made chief of the naval department, of which Prince Ching is only an adviser.

The most important person among either princes or officials that has been connected with the new regime is Yuan Shih-kai. He was born in the province of Honan, that province south of the Yellow River which is almost annually flooded by that great muddy stream which is called “China’s Sorrow.” As a boy he was a diligent student of the Chinese classics and of such foreign books as had been translated into the Chinese language, but he has never studied a foreign tongue nor visited a foreign country. Here then rests the first element of his greatness–that without any knowledge of foreign language, foreign law, foreign literature, science of government, or the history of progress and of civilization, he has occupied the highest and most responsible positions in the gift of the empire, has steered the ship of state on a straight course between the shoals of conservatism on the one hand and radical reform on the other until he has brought her near to the harbour of a safe progressive policy.

He has always been what the Chinese call the tu-ti or pupil of Li Hung-chang, and it may be that it was from him he learned his statecraft. Certain it is that he always basked in the favour of the great Viceroy, and it may be that he had more or less influence with him in his earlier appointments, for he rose rapidly and in spite of all other officials.

On his return from Korea he was made a judge. He was then put in charge of the army of the metropolitan province, and with the assistance of German officers he succeeded in drilling 12,500 troops after the European fashion.

It was about this time that the Emperor conceived the plan of instituting and carrying out one of the most stupendous reforms that has ever been undertaken in human government–that of transforming four thousand years of conservatism of four hundred millions of people in the short space of a few months.

Given: A people who cannot make a nail, to build a railroad.

Given: A people who dare not plow a deep furrow for fear of disturbing the spirits of the place, to open gold, silver, iron and coal mines.

Given: A people who in 4,000 years did not have the genius to develop a decent high school, to open a university in the capital of every province.

These are three of the score or more of equally difficult problems that the Emperor undertook to solve in twice as many days. In order to the solution of these problems there was organized in Peking a Reform Party of hot-headed, radical young scholars not one of whom has ever turned out to be a statesman. They were brilliant young men, many of them, but they so lost their heads in their enthusiasm for reform that they forgot that their government was in the hands of the same old conservative leaders under whom it had been for forty centuries.

They introduced into the palace as the private adviser of the Emperor, Kang Yu-wei, as we have already shown, to whom was thus offered one of the greatest opportunities that was ever given to a human being–that of being the leader in this great reform. He was hailed as a young Confucius, but his popularity was short-lived, for he so lacked all statesmanship as to allow the young Emperor to issue twenty-seven edicts, disposing of twenty-seven difficult problems such as I have given above in about twice that many days, and it is this hot-headed and unstatesman-like young “Confucius” who now calls Yuan Shih-kai an opportunist and a traitor because he did not enter into the following plot.

After the Emperor had dismissed two conservative vice-presidents of a Board, two governors of provinces, and a half dozen other useless conservative leaders, they plotted to overthrow him by appealing to the ambition of the Empress Dowager and induce her to dethrone him and again assume the reins of government. They argued that “he was her adopted son, it was she who had placed him on the throne, and she was therefore responsible for his mistakes.” They complimented her on “the wisdom which she had manifested, and the statesmanship she had exhibited” during the thirty years and more of her regency. To all which she listened with a greedy ear, but still she made no move.

During this time were the Emperor and his young “Confucius” idle? By no means. They had hatched a counterplot, and had decided that what they could not do by moral suasion and statesmanship they would do by force, and so they sent an order to Yuan Shih-kai, who as we have said had drilled and was in charge of 12,500 of the best troops in the empire, urging him to “hasten to the capital at once, place the Empress Dowager under guard in the Summer Palace so that she may not be allowed to interfere in the affairs of the government, and protect him in his reform measures.”

The Emperor knew that nothing could be done without the command of the army which was largely in the hands of a great conservative friend of the Empress Dowager (Jung Lu) the father-in-law of the present Regent. Yuan was in charge of an army corps of 12,500 troops, but for him to have taken them even at the command of the Emperor, without informing his superior officer, would have meant the loss of his head at once. The first thing then for him to do was to take this order to Jung Lu. Yuan was in favour of reform, though he may not have approved of the Emperor’s methods. Jung Lu hastened to Prince Ching and they two sped to the Empress Dowager in the Summer Palace where they laid the whole matter before her. She hurried to Peking, boldly faced and denounced the Emperor, took from him his seal of state, and confined him a prisoner in the Winter Palace. Kang Yu-wei, the young “Confucius,” fled, but the Empress Dowager seized his brother and five other patriotic young reformers, and ordered them beheaded on the public execution grounds in Peking.

Naturally the Empress Dowager approved of the “wise and statesmanlike methods” of Yuan in thus protecting instead of imprisoning her, and thus placing the reins of government once more in her hands, and she appointed him Junior Vice-President of the Board of Works, and when she was compelled to remove the Governor of Shantung who had organized the Boxer Society, she appointed Yuan Acting Governor in his stead. “Yuan,” says Arthur H. Smith, was “a man of a wholly different stripe” from the one removed, and “if left to himself he would speedily have exterminated the whole Boxer brood, but being hampered by ‘confidential instructions’ from the palace, he could do little but issue poetical proclamations, and revile his subordinates for failure to do their duty.”

When Yuan was made Governor of Shantung a number of the Boxer leaders called upon him expecting to find in him a sympathizer worthy of his predecessor. They told him of their great powers and possibilities, and of how they were proof against the spears, swords and bullets of their enemies. Yuan listened to them with patience and interest, and invited them to dine with him and other official friends in the near future.

During the dinner the Governor directed the conversation towards the Boxer leaders and their prowess, and led them once more to relate to all his friends their powers of resistance. He fed them well, and after the dinner was over he suggested that they give an exhibition of their wonderful powers to the friends whom he had invited. This they could not well refuse to do after the braggadocio way in which they had talked, and so the Governor lined them up, called forth a number of his best marksmen, and proceeded with the exhibition, and it is unnecessary to add that if the Empress Dowager had invited Yuan to the meeting with the princes when they discussed the advisability of joining the Boxers on account of a belief in their supernatural powers, she might have been spared the humiliation of 1900.

We shall soon see that Yuan cared no more for the “confidential instructions” of the Empress Dowager, when his statesmanship was involved, than for the orders of the Emperor. His business was to govern and protect the people of his province, and thanks to his wise statesmanship and strong character “there was not only no foreigner killed during the troubled season of anxiety and flight” of 1900, and “comparatively little of the suffering elsewhere so common.”

And now we come to another plot which indicates the character of Yuan and two other great viceroys, Chang Chih-tung, now Grand Secretary, and Liu Kun-yi, Viceroy of the Yangtse-kiang provinces. It is a well-known fact that during the Boxer rebellion the Empress Dowager was so influenced by the promises of the Boxers to drive out all the foreigners that she sent out some very unwise edicts that they should be massacred in the provinces. Yuan and his two confreres secretly stipulated that if the foreign men of war would keep away from the ports of their provinces they would maintain peace and protect the foreigners no matter what orders came from the throne. So that when these confidential instructions came from the palace to massacre the foreigners, in order to gain time they pretended to believe that no such orders could have come from the throne. They must be forgeries of the Boxers. They therefore refused to believe them until they had sent their own special messenger all the way to Peking to get the edict from the hands of Her Majesty and bring it to them in their provinces. This messenger was also secretly instructed to find out what the contents of the edict were, and if it was contrary to the desires of the Governor, he was to dilly-dally on the way home until the Boxer trouble was ended or until the foreigners had all been removed from the territory. And it was such conduct as this on the part of three Chinese and one Manchu viceroys that saved China from being divided up among the Powers in 1900, a fact which the Empress Dowager was not slow to understand and reward.

In 1900 Yuan was made Governor of the Shantung province, and the court was compelled to flee to Hsian. It was while the court was thus in hiding that an incident occurred which indicates the fertility of the Empress Dowager and the elasticity of all Chinese social customs. Governor Yuan’s mother died. In a case of this kind customs dictate, and the rules of filial affection demand, that a man shall resign all his official positions and go into mourning for a period of three years. Yuan therefore sent his resignation to the Empress Dowager, while “weeping tears of blood.”

The country was of course in desperate straits and could ill afford to lose, for three years, for a mere sentiment, the services of one of her greatest and most powerful statesmen. However much he may have regretted to give up such a brilliant career which was just well begun, Yuan no doubt expected to do so. What was his surprise therefore to receive from Her Majesty a message of condolence in which she praised his mother in the highest terms for having given the world such a brilliant and able son. Under the circumstances, however, it would be impossible to accept his resignation as his services to the country just at this juncture were indispensable. She would, however, appoint a substitute to go into mourning for him, and this with the knowledge that she had borne a son whose services were so necessary to the safety of the government and the country, would be a sufficient comfort to the spirit of his departed mother, and Yuan was forced to continue in his official position as Governor of the province without the intermission of a single day of mourning. Such is the elasticity and adaptability of the unchanging laws and customs of the Oriental when in the hands of a master–or a mistress–like Her Majesty the Empress Dowager.

One can imagine that in proportion as the Empress Dowager was pleased with the statesmanship manifested by Yuan Shih-kai in unintentionally reseating her upon the throne, in a like proportion the Emperor would be dissatisfied with it as being the cause of his dethronement. This was not, however, against Yuan alone but against the father-in-law of the present Regent and even Prince Ching as well. During the whole ten years, from 1898 until his death, while he was a prisoner “his heart boiled with wrath” against those who had been the cause of his downfall.

It was not until the Boxer troubles of 1900 were over, and Yuan, by the masterly way in which he had disregarded the imperial edicts, had protected and preserved the lives of all the foreigners in his province, keeping peace the while, that honours began to be heaped upon him. And this not without reason as we shall proceed to show.

In 1901 he was made Governor-General of the metropolitan province, and Junior Guardian of the Heir Apparent. In 1902 he was decorated with the Yellow Jacket, placed in charge of the affairs of the Northern Railway, and consulting minister to counsel the government. Wherever he was he gave as much attention to the city government as to that of the province or the nation, and in spite of his having no foreign education himself, he began building up a system of public schools in his province like which there is nothing else in the whole of China. Let us remember also that during ail this time there was suspended over his head, from the palace, a sword of Damocles which was liable to fall at any time. But we will explain that further on as it is the last act of the drama.

When Yuan went to Tientsin as Viceroy of the metropolitan province he found there Dr. C. D. Tenny, the president of the Tientsin University which had been begun by Li Hung-chang some ten or a dozen years before. It had a good course of study and was turning out a large number of young graduates for whom there ought to be a better future than that of interpreters in the various business houses of that and other cities. He therefore called Dr. Tenny to him and inquired particularly about the system of public school education throughout the United States.

“What is to prevent our putting into operation such a system throughout this province?” asked the Viceroy.

“Nothing,” answered Dr. Tenny, “except to be willing to submit to the conditions.”

“And what are those conditions?” asked His Excellency.

“They are that you open schools in every important town, place in them well-educated, competent teachers, whom you are willing to pay a salary equal to what they may reasonably expect to get if they enter business.”

“May I ask if you would be willing to undertake the development of such a system?” he asked further.

“On one condition,” answered Dr. Tenny.

“And what is that?”

“That you allow me to open a school wherever I think there should be one, call my teachers from whatsoever source I please to call them, pay them whatever salary I think they deserve, sending all the bills to Your Excellency, and you pay them without question.”

The Viceroy had known Dr. Tenny for years, had always had the most implicit confidence both in his ability and his honesty, and so, lightening up his duties in the Tientsin and Paotingfu Uni- versities, he commissioned him to establish what may be termed the first public school system of education on modern lines in the whole empire. This one act, if he had done no other, was reason enough for a wise regent to have continued him in office even though he “had rheumatism of the leg.” But it may be that there are extenuating circumstances in this act of the Regent as we shall point out later.

There is one phase of the Boxer uprising that I have never yet seen properly represented in any book or magazine. We all know how the ministers of the various European governments with their wives and children, the customs officials, missionaries, business men, and tourists who happened to be in Peking at the time, with all the Chinese Christians, were confined in the British legation and Prince Su’s palace. We know how they barricaded their defense. We know how they were fired upon day and night for six weeks by the Boxer leaders and the army of the conservatives under the leadership of their general, Tung Fu-hsiang. But the thing which we do not know, or at least which has not been adequately told, is the most interesting secret plot of the liberal progressives, under the leadership of “Prince Ching and others,” to thwart the Empress Dowager and the Boxer leaders, the conservatives and their army, and protect the most noted company of prisoners that have ever been confined in a legation quarter. The plot was this:

When Prince Ching and his progressive associates in Peking discovered that they could not vote down the Boxer princes, they dared not openly oppose them, but they secretly decided that the representatives of the Powers must not be massacred else the doom of China was sealed. When they discovered that Yuan Shih-kai and the other great viceroys had decided by stratagem to foil the Boxers even though they must set all the imperial edicts at naught, they decided, for the sake of the protection of the legations and the preservation of the empire, that they would do the same. They secretly sent supplies of food to the besieged, which the latter feared to use lest they be poisoned. But more than that they kept their own armies in Peking as a guard and as a final resort in case there was danger of the legation being overcome, and as a matter of fact there were regular pitched battles between the troops of Prince Ching and his associates and those of the Boxer leader, Tung Fu-hsiang. Had the Boxers finally succeeded, Yuan Shih-kai and Prince Ching and their associates would have lost their heads, but as the Boxers failed it was they who went to their graves by the short process of the executioner’s knife.

So Yuan was between two fires. He had disobeyed the commands of the Emperor in not coming to Peking and had therefore incurred his displeasure and caused his downfall. He had disobeyed the Empress Dowager in not putting to death the foreigners in his province, and if the Boxers were successful he would surely lose his head on that account. The Boxers, however, were not successful and as his disobedience had helped to save the empire, Yuan, so long as the Dowager remained in power, was safe.

But a day of reckoning must inevitably come. The Empress Dowager was an old woman, the Emperor was a young man. In all human probabilities she would be the first to die, while his only hope was in her outliving the Emperor, who had sworn vengeance on all those who had been instrumental in his imprisonment.

I have a friend in Peking who is also a friend of one of the greatest Chinese officials. This official has gone into the palace daily for a dozen years past and knows every plot and counterplot that has been hatched in that nest of seclusion during all that time, though he has been implicated in none of them. He has held the highest positions in the gift of the empire without ever once having been degraded. One day when he was in the palace the Emperor unburdened his heart to him, thinking that what he said would never reach the ears of his enemies.

“You have no idea,” said the Emperor, “what I suffer here.”

“Indeed?” was the only reply of the official.

“Yes,” continued the Emperor, “I am not allowed to speak to any one from outside. I am without power, without companions, and even the eunuchs act as though they are under no obligations to respect me. The position of the lowest servant in the palace is more desirable than mine.” Then lowering his voice he continued, “But there is a day of reckoning to come. The Empress Dowager cannot live forever, and if ever I get my throne again I will see to it that those who put me here will suffer as I have done.”

It is not unlikely that this conversation of the Emperor reached the ears of Yuan Shih-kai. Walls have ears in China. Everything has ears, and every part of nature has a tongue. If so, here was the occasion for the last plot in the drama of the Emperor’s life, and next to the last in the official life of Yuan Shih-kai.

The problem is to so manipulate the laws of nature as to prevent the Emperor outliving the Empress Dowager, and not allow the world to know that you have been trifling with occult forces. He must die a natural death, a death which is above suspicion. He must not die one day after the Empress Dowager as that would create talk. And he ought to die some time before her. The death fuse is one which often burns very much longer than we expect– was it not one of the English kings who said “I fear I am a very long time a-dying, gentlemen” –and sometimes it burns out sooner than is intended. There were two imperial death fuses burning at the same time in that Forbidden City of Peking. The Empress Dowager had “had a stroke.” Hers was undoubtedly nature’s own work. But the enemies of Yuan Shih-kai tell us that the Emperor had “had a Chinese doctor,” to whom the great Viceroy paid $33,000 for his services. We are told that the Empress Dowager in reality died first and then the Emperor, though the Emperor’s death was first announced, and the next day that of the Dowager.

What then are we to infer? That the Emperor was poisoned? Let it be so. That is what the Japanese believed at the time. But who did it? Most assuredly no one man. One might have employed a Chinese physician for him, but the last man whose physician the Emperor would have accepted would have been Yuan Shih-kai’s. Had you or I been ill would we have allowed the man who was the cause of our fall to select our physician? But granted that Yuan Shih-kai did employ his physician, and that his death was the result of slow poisoning, could Yuan Shih-kai have so manipulated Prince Ching, the Regent (who is the late Emperor’s brother), the ladies of the court, and all those thousands of eunuchs, to remain silent as to the death of the Empress Dowager until he had completed the slow process on His Majesty? No! If the Emperor was poisoned–and the world believes he was–there are a number of others whose skirts are as badly stained as those of the great Viceroy, or long ere this his body would have been sent home a headless corpse instead of with “rheumatism of the leg.”

What then is the explanation? It may be this, that the court, and the officials as a whole, felt that the Emperor was an unsafe person to resume the throne, and that it were better that one man should perish than that the whole regime should be upset. They even refused to allow a foreign physician to go in to see him, saying that of his own free will he had turned again to the Chinese, all of which indicates that it was not the plot of any one man.

Why then should Yuan Shih-kai have been made the scapegoat of the court and the officials, and branded as a murderer in the face of the whole world? That may be another plot. The radical reformers, followers of Kang Yu-wei, have been making such a hubbub about the matter ever since the death of the Emperor and the Empress Dowager that somebody had to be punished. They said that Yuan had been a traitor to the cause of reform, that he had not only betrayed his sovereign in 1898, but that now he had encompassed his death.

Now to satisfy these enemies, the Prince Regent may have decided that the best thing to do was to dismiss Yuan for a time. I think that the trivial excuse he gives for doing so favours my theory–with “rheumatism of the leg,” to which is added, “Thus our clemency is manifest”–a sentence which may be severe or may mean nothing, and when the storm has blown over and the sky is clear again, Yuan may be once more brought to the front as Li Hung-chang and others have been in the past. Which is a consummation, I think, devoutly to be wished.

XX

Peking–The City of the Court

The position of Peking at the present time is one of peculiar interest, for all the different forces that are now at work to make or mar China issue from, or converge towards, the capital. There, on the dragon throne, beside, or rather above, the powerless and unhappy Emperor, the father of his people and their god, sits the astute and ever-watchful lady whose word is law to Emperor, minister and clown alike. There dwell the heads of the government boards, the leaders of the Manchu aristocracy, and the great political parties, the drafters of new constitutions and imperial decrees, and the keen-witted diplomatists who know so well how to play against European antagonists the great game of international chess.
–R. F. Johnston in “From Peking to Mandelay.”

XX

PEKING–THE CITY OF THE COURT

In the place where Peking now stands there has been a city for three thousand years. Five centuries before Christ it was the capital of a small state, but was destroyed three centuries later by the builder of the great wall. It was soon rebuilt, however, and has continued from that time until the present, with varied fortunes, as the capital of a state, the chief city of a department, or the dwelling-place of the court.

It is the greatest and best preserved walled city in the empire, if not in the world. The Tartar City is sixteen miles in circumference, surrounded by a wall sixty feet thick at the bottom, fifty feet thick at the top and forty feet high, with six feet of balustrade on the outside, beautifully crenelated and loopholed, and in a good state of preservation. The streets are sixty feet wide,–or even more in places,–well macadamized, and lit with electric light. The chief mode of conveyance is the ‘ricksha, though carriages may be hired by the week, day or hour at various livery stables in proximity to the hotels, which, by the way, furnish as good accommodation to their guests as the hotels of other Oriental cities.

In the centre of the Tartar City is the Imperial City, eight miles in circumference, encircled by a wall six feet thick and fifteen feet high, pierced by four gates at the points of the compass; and in the centre of this again is the Forbidden City, occupying less than half a square mile, the home of the court.

Fairs are held, at various temples, fourteen days of every month, distributed in such a way as to bring them almost on alternate days, while at certain times there are two fairs on the same day. It is a mistake to suppose that the Chinese women in the capital are very much secluded. They may be seen on the streets at almost any time, while the temple courts and adjacent streets, on fair days, are crowded with women and girls, dressed in the most gorgeous colours, their hair decorated with all kinds of artificial flowers, followed by little boys and girls as gaily dressed as themselves. Here they find all kinds of toys, curios, and articles of general use, from a top to a broom, from bits of jade or other precious stones, to a snuff bottle hollowed out of a solid quartz crystal, or a market basket or a dust-pan made of reeds.

Peking being the city of the court, and the headquarters of many of the greatest officials, is the receptacle of the finest products of the oldest and greatest non-Christian people the world has ever known. China easily leads the world in the making of porcelain, the best of which has always gone to Peking for use in the palace, and so we can find here the best products of every reign from the time of Kang Hsi, as well as those of the former dynasties, to that of Kuang Hsu and the Empress Dowager. The same is true of her brass and bronze incense-burners and images, her wood and ivory carvings, her beautiful embroideries, her magnificent tapestries, and her paintings by old masters of six or eight hundred years ago. Here we can find the finest Oriental rugs, in a good state of preservation, with the “tone’ that only age can give, made long before the time of Washington.

There is no better market for fine bits of embroidery, mandarin coats, and all the better products of needle, silk and floss, of which the Chinese have been masters for centuries, than the city of the court. The population consists largely of great officials and their families, whose cast-off clothing, toned down by the use of years, often without a blemish or a spot, finds its way into the hands of dealers. The finest furs,–seal, otter, squirrel, sable and ermine,–are brought from Siberia, Manchuria and elsewhere, for the officials and the court, and can be secured for less than half what they would cost in America. Pearls, of which the Chinese ladies and the court are more fond than of diamonds, may be found in abundance in all the bazars, which are many, and judging from the way they are purchased by tourists, are both cheaper and better than elsewhere.

The Chinese have little appreciation of diamonds as jewelry. On one occasion there was offered to me a beautiful ring containing a large sapphire encircled by twenty diamonds. When I offered the dealer less than he asked for it, he said: “No, rather than sell it for that price, I will tear it apart, and sell the diamonds separately for drill-points to the tinkers who mend dishes. I can make more from it in that way, only I dislike to spoil the ring.” The Empress Dowager during her late years, and many of the ladies and gentlemen of the more progressive type, affected, whether genuinely or not, an appreciation of the diamond as a piece of jewelry, especially in the form of rings, though coloured stones, polished, but not cut, have always been more popular with the Chinese. The turquoise, the emerald, the sapphire, the ruby and the other precious stones with colour have, therefore, always graced the tables of the bazars in the capital, while the diamond until very recently was relegated to the point of the tinker’s drill.

There is another method of bringing bits of their ancient handiwork to the capital which most of those living in Peking, even, know nothing about. A company, whose headquarters is at an inn, called the Hsing Lung Tien, sends agents all over the empire, to purchase and bring to them everything in the nature of a curio, whether porcelain, painting, embroidery, pottery or even an ancient tile or inkstone, which they then, at public auction, sell to the dealers. The sale is at noon each day. The first time I visited it was with a friend from Iowa who was anxious to get some unique bits of porcelain. The auctioneer does not “cry” the wares. Neither buyer nor seller says a word. Nobody knows what anybody else has offered. The goods are passed out of a closed room from a high window where the crowd can see them, and then each one wanting them tries to be first in securing the hand of the auctioneer, which is ensconced in his long sleeve, where, by squeezing his fingers, they tell him how much they will give for the particular piece. It is the only real case of “talking in the sleeve’ I have ever seen, and each piece is sold to the first person offering a fair profit on the money invested, though he might get much more by allowing them to bid against each other.

Among the attractive sights in Peking, none are quite so interesting as the places where His Majesty worships, and of these the most beautiful in architecture, the grandest in conception, and the one laid out on the most magnificent scale, is the Temple of Heaven.

Think of six hundred and forty acres of valuable city property being set aside for the grounds of a single temple, as compared with the way our own great churches are crowded into small city lots of scarcely as many square feet, and over-shadowed by great business blocks costing a hundred times as much, and we can get some conception of the magnificence of the scale on which this temple is laid out. A large part of the grounds is covered with cedars, many of which are not less than five hundred years old, while other parts are used to pasture a flock of black cattle from which they select the sacrifice for a burnt offering. The grounds are not well kept like those of our own parks and churches, but the original conception of a temple on such a large scale is worthy of a great people.

The worship at this temple is the most important of all the religious observances of the empire, and constitutes a most interesting remnant of the ancient monotheistic cultus which prevailed in China before the rationalism of Confucius and the polytheistic superstition of Buddhism predominated among the people. While the ceremonies of the sacrifices are very complicated, they are kept with the strictest severity. The chief of these is at the winter solstice. On December 21st the Emperor goes in a sedan chair, covered with yellow silk, and carried by thirty-two men, preceded by a band of musicians, and followed by an immense retinue of princes and officials on horseback. He first goes to the tablet-chapel, where he offers incense to Shang Ti, the God above, and to his ancestors, with three kneelings and nine prostrations. Then going to the great altar he inspects the offerings, after which he repairs to the Palace of Abstinence, where he spends the night in fasting and prayer. The next morning at 5:45 A. M. he dons his sacrificial robes, proceeds to the open altar, where he kneels and burns incense, offers a prayer to Shang Ti, and incense to his ancestors whose shrines and tablets are arranged on the northeast and northwest portions of the altar.

There are two altars in the temple, a quarter of a mile apart, the covered and the open altar, and this latter is one of the grandest religious conceptions of the human mind. It is a triple circular marble terrace, 210 feet wide at the base, 150 feet in the middle, and ninety feet at the top, ascended at the points of the compass by three flights of nine steps each. A circular stone is in the centre of the top, around which are nine stones in the first circle, eighteen in the second, twenty-seven in the third, etc., and eighty-one in the ninth, or last circle. The Emperor kneels on the circular stone, surrounded by the circles of stones, then by the circles of the terraces, and finally by the horizon, and thus seems to himself and his retinue to be in the centre of the universe, his only walls being the skies, and his only covering, the shining dome.

There are no images of any kind connected with the temple or the worship, the only offerings being a bullock, the various productions of the soil, and a cylindrical piece of jade about a foot long, formerly used as a symbol of sovereignty. Twelve bundles of cloth are offered to Heaven, and only one to each of the emperors, and to the sun and moon. The bullocks must be two years old, the best of their kind, without blemish, and while they were formerly killed by the Emperor they are now slaughtered by an official appointed for that purpose.

The covered altar is, I think, the most beautiful piece of architecture in China. It is smaller than the one already described but has erected upon it a lofty, circular triple-roofed temple ninety-nine feet in height, roofed with blue tiles, the eaves painted in brilliant colours and protected from the birds by a wire netting. In the centre, immediately in front of the altar, is a circular stone, as in the open altar. The ceiling is covered with gilded dragons in high relief, and the whole is supported by immense pillars. It was this building that was struck by lightning in 1890, but it was restored during the ten years that followed. Being made the camp of the British during the occupation of 1900, it received some small injuries from curio seekers, but none of any consequence. The Sikh soldiers who died during this period were cremated in the furnace connected with the open altar.

The Chinese have been an agricultural people for thirty centuries or more, and this characteristic is embodied in the Temple of Agriculture, which occupies a park of not less than three hundred and twenty acres of city property opposite the Temple of Heaven. It has four great altars, with their adjacent halls, to the spirits of Heaven, Earth, the Year, and the Ancestral Husbandman, Shen Nung, to whom the temple is dedicated. It was used as the camp of the American soldiers in 1900, and was well cared for. At one time some of the soldiers upset one of the urns, and when it was reported to the officer in command, the whole company was called out and the urn properly replaced, after which the men were lectured on the matter of injuring any property belonging to the temple.

There are several large plots of ground in this enclosure, one of which the Emperor ploughs, while another is marked “City Magistrate,” another “Prefect,” and on these bits of land the “five kinds of grain” are sown. One cannot view these imperial temples without being impressed with the potential greatness of a people who do things on such a magnificent scale. But one, at the same time, also feels that these temples, and the great Oriental religions which inspire and support them have failed in a measure to accomplish their design, which ought to be to educate and develop the people. This they can hardly be said to have done, especially if we consider their condition in their lack of all phases of scientific development, for as the sciences stand to-day they are all the product of the Christian peoples.

There are three other imperial temples on the same large scale as those just described. The Temple of the Sun east of the city, that of the Moon on the west, and that of the Earth on the north, though it must be confessed that the worship at these has been allowed to lapse. In the Tartar City there are two others, the Lama Temple and the Confucian Temple, in the former of which there is a statue of Buddha seventy-five feet high, and from thirteen to fifteen hundred priests who worship daily at his shrine. This statue is made of stucco, over a framework, and not of wood as some have told us, and as the guide will assure us at the present day. One can ascend to a level with its head by several flights of stairs, where a lamp is lit when the Emperor visits the temple. In the east wing of this same building is a prayer-wheel, which reaches up through several successive stories, and is kept in motion while the Emperor is present.

In the east side buildings there are a few interesting, though in some cases very disgusting idols, such for instance as those illustrating the creation, but over these draperies have been thrown during recent years, which make them a trifle more respectable.

The temple is very imposing. At the entrance there are two large arches covered with yellow tiles, from which a broad paved court leads to the front gate, on the two sides of which are the residences of the Lamas or Mongol priests. At the hour of prayer, which is about nine o’clock, they may be seen going in crowds, clothed in yellow robes, to the various halls of worship where they chant their prayers.

Very different from this is the Confucian Temple only a quarter of a mile away. Here we find neither priest nor idol–nothing but a small board tablet to “Confucius, the teacher of ten thousand ages” with those of his most faithful and worthy disciples. In the court on each side are rows of buildings–that on the east containing the tablets of seventy-eight virtuous men; that on the west the tablets of fifty-four learned men; eighty-six of these were pupils of the Sage, while the remainder were men who accepted his teachings. No Taoists, however learned; no Buddhists, however pure; no original thinkers, however great may have been their following, are allowed a place here. It is a Temple of Fame for Confucianists alone.

I have been in this temple when a whole bullock, the skin and entrails having been removed, was kneeling upon a table facing the tablet of the Sage, while sheep and pigs were similarly arranged facing the tablets of his disciples.

For twenty-four centuries China has had Taoism preached within her dominions; for twenty-three centuries she has worshipped at the shrine of Confucius; for eighteen centuries she has had Buddhism, and for twelve centuries Mohammedanism: and during all this time if we believe the statements of her own people, she has slept. Does it not therefore seem significant, that less than a century after the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been preached to her people, and the Bible circulated freely throughout her dominions, she opened her court to the world, began to build railroads, open mines, erect educational institutions, adopt the telegraph and the telephone, and step into line with the industrial methods of the most progressive nations of the Western world?

XXI

The Death of Kuang Hsu and the Empress Dowager

Who knows whether the Dowager Empress will ever repose in the magnificent tomb she has built for herself at such a cost, or whether a new dynasty may not rifle its riches to embellish its own? Tze-Hsi is growing old! According to nature’s immutable law her faculties must soon fail her; her iron will must bend and her far-seeing eye grow dim, and after her who will resist the tide of foreign aggression and stem the torrent of inward revolt? –Lady Susan Townley in “My Chinese Note Book.”

XXI

THE DEATH OF KUANG HSU AND THE EMPRESS DOWAGER

During mid-November of 1908 the Forbidden City of Peking was a blind stage before which an expectant world sat as an audience. It had not long to wait, for on the fifteenth and sixteenth it learned that Kuang Hsu and the Empress Dowager, less than twenty-four hours apart, had taken “the fairy ride and ascended upon the dragon to be guests on high.” The world looked on in awe. It expected a demonstration if not a revolution but nothing of the kind happened. But on the other hand one of the most difficult diplomatic problems of her history was solved in a quiet and peaceable, if not a statesman-like way, by the aged Dowager and her officials, and China once more had upon her throne an emperor, though only a child, about whose succession there was no question. And all this was done with less commotion than is caused by the election of a mayor in New York or Chicago, which may or may not be to the credit of an absolute monarchy over a republican form of government.

The world has speculated a good deal as to what happened in the Forbidden City of Peking during the early half of November. Will the curious world ever know? Whether it will or not remains for the future to determine. We have, however, the edicts issued to the foreign legations at Peking and with these at the present we must be content. From them we learn that it was the Empress Dowager and not Kuang Hsu who appointed Prince Chun as Regent, and that this appointment was made–or at least announced–twenty-four hours before the death of the Emperor.

On the thirteenth of November the foreign diplomatic representatives received the following edict from the great Dowager through the regular channel of the Foreign Office of which Prince Ching was the president:

“It is the excellent will of Tze-hsi-kuan-yu-k’ang- i-chao-yu-chuang-ch’eng-shou-kung-ch’in-hsien-chung-hsi, the great Empress Dowager that Tsai Feng, Prince of Chun, be appointed Prince Regent (She Chang-wang).”

The above edict was soon followed by another which stated that “Pu I, the son of Tsai Feng, should be reared in the palace and taught in the imperial schoolroom,” an indication that he was to be the next emperor, and that Tsai Feng and not Kuang Hsu was to occupy the throne, and all this by the “excellent will” of the Empress Dowager.

On the morning of the fourteenth the following edict came from the Emperor himself:

“From the beginning of August of last year, our health has been poor. We formerly ordered the Tartar generals, viceroys, and governors of every province to recommend physicians of ability. Thereupon the viceroys of Chihli, the Liang Kiang, Hu Kiang, Kiangsu and Chekiang recommended and sent forward Chen Ping-chun, Tsao Yuen-wang, Lu Yung-ping, Chow Ching-tao, Tu Chung-chun, Shih Huan, and Chang Pang-nien, who came to Peking and treated us. But their prescriptions have given no relief. Now the negative and positive elements (Yin-Yang) are both failing. There are ailments both external and internal, and the breath is stopped up, the stomach rebellious, the back and legs painful, appetite failing. On moving, the breath fails and there is coughing and panting. Besides, we have chills and fever, cannot sleep, and experience a general failure of bodily strength which is hard to bear.

“Our heart is very impatient and now the Tartar generals, viceroys, and governors of every province are ordered to select capable physicians, regardless of the official rank, and to send them quickly to Peking to await summons to give medical aid. If any can show beneficial results he will receive extraordinary rewards, and the Tartar generals, viceroys, and governors who recommend them will receive special grace. Let this be published.”

This was followed on the same day by the following edict:

“Inasmuch as the Emperor Tung Chih had no issue, on the fifth day of the twelfth moon of that reign (January 12, 1875) an edict was promulgated to the effect that if the late Emperor Kuang Hsu should have a son, the said prince should carry on the succession as the heir of Tung Chih. But now the late Emperor has ascended upon the dragon to be a guest on high, leaving no son, and there is no course open but to appoint Pu I, the son of Tsai Feng, the Prince Regent, as the successor to Tung Chih and also as heir to the Emperor Kuang Hsu.”

The next day–the fifteenth–another edict, purporting to come from little Pu I, but transcribed by Prince Ching, was sent out to the diplomatic body and to the world. It is as follows:

“I have the honour to inform Your Excellency that on the 21st day of the 10th moon [Nov. 14, 1908] at the yu-ke [5-7 P. M.] the late Emperor ascended on the dragon to be a guest on high. We have received the command of Tze-hsi, etc., the Great Empress Dowager to enter on the succession as Emperor. We lamented to Earth and Heaven. We stretched out our hands, wailing our insufficiency. Prostrate we reflect on how the late Emperor occupied the Imperial Throne for thirty-four years, reverently following the customs of his ancestors, receiving the gracious instruction of the Empress Dowager, exerting himself to the utmost, not failing one day to revere Heaven and observe the laws of his ancestors, devoting himself with diligence to the affairs of government and loving the people, appointing the virtuous to office, changing the laws of the land to make the country powerful, considering new methods of government which arouse the admiration of both Chinese and foreigners. All who have blood and breath cannot but mourn and be moved to the extreme point. We weep tears of blood and beat upon our heart. How can we bear to express our feelings!

“But we think upon our heavy responsibility and our weakness, and we must depend upon the great and small civil and military officials of Peking and the provinces to show public spirit and patriotism, and aid in the government. The viceroys and governors should harmonize the people and arrange carefully methods of government to comfort the spirit of the late Emperor in heaven. This is our earnest expectation.”

On the sixteenth day of November, three days after she had appointed the regent, and two days after she had appointed Pu I, the diplomatic representatives received the following from Prince Ching:

“Your Excellency:

“I have the honour to inform Your Excellency that we have reverently received the following testamentary statement of Her Imperial Majesty Tze-hsi, etc., the Great Empress Dowager:

” ‘Although of scanty merit, I received the command of His Majesty the Emperor Wen Tsung-hsien (the posthumous title of Hsien Feng) to occupy a throne prepared for me in the palace. When the Emperor Mu Tsung I (Tung Chih) as a child succeeded to the throne, violence and confusion prevailed. It was a critical period of suppression by force. “Long-hairs” (Tai-ping rebels) and the “twisted turbans” (Nien Fei) were in rebellion. The Mohammedans and the aborigines had commenced to make trouble. There were many disturbances along the seacoast. The people were destitute. Ulcers and sores met the eye on every side. Cooperating with the Empress Dowager Hsiao Chen-hsien, I supported and taught the Emperor and toiled day and night. According to the instructions contained in the testamentary counsels of the Emperor Wen Tsung-hsien (Hsien Feng) I urged on the officials of Peking and the provinces and all the military commanders, determining the policy to be followed, diligently searching the right way of governing, choosing the upright for official positions, rescuing from calamity and pitying the people, and so obtained the protection of Heaven, gaining peace and tranquillity instead of distress and danger. Then the Emperor Mu Tsung I (Tung Chih) departed this life and the late Emperor succeeded to the throne. The times became still harder and the people in still greater straits, sorrow within and calamity without, confusion and noise; I had no recourse but to give instruction in government once more.

” ‘The year before last the preparatory measures for the institution of constitutional government were published. This year the time limits for the measures preparatory to constitutional government have been promulgated. Attending to these myriad affairs the strength of my heart has been exhausted. Fortunately my constitution was originally strong and up to the present I have stood the strain. Unexpectedly from the summer and autumn of this year I have been ill and have not been able to assist in the multitudinous affairs of government with tranquillity. Appetite and the power to sleep have gone. This has continued for a long time until my strength is exhausted and I have not dared to rest for even a day. On the 21st of this moon [November 14th] came the sorrow of the death of the late Emperor, and I was unable to control myself, so that my illness increased till I was unable to rise from my bed. I look back upon our fifty years of sorrow and trouble. I have been continually in a state of high tension without a moment’s respite. Now a reform in the method of government has been commenced and there begins to be a clue to follow. The Emperor now succeeding to the throne is in his infancy. All depends upon his instruction and guidance. The Prince Regent and all the officials of Peking and the provinces should exert themselves to strengthen the foundations of our empire. Let the Emperor now succeedings to the throne make his country’s affairs of first importance and moderate his sorrow, diligently attending to his studies so that he may in future illustrate the instruction which he has received. This is my devout hope. Let the mourning period be for twenty-seven days only. Let this be proclaimed to the empire that all may know.’ “

Still one more edict was necessary to complete this remarkable list, and this was sent to the legations on the 17th of November. It is as follows:

“I have the honour to inform Your Excellency that on the 22d of the moon [November 15, 1908] I reverently received the following edict:

“We received in our early childhood the love and care of Tze-hsi, etc., the Great Empress Dowager. Our gratitude is boundless. We have received the command to succeed to the throne and we fully expected that the gentle Empress Dowager would be vigorous and reach a hundred years so that we might be cherished and made glad and reverently receive her instructions so that our government might be established and the state made firm. But her toil by day and night gradually weakened her. Medicine was constantly administered in the hope that she might recover. Contrary to our hopes, on the 21st day of the moon [November 14th] at the wei-k’o [1-3 P.M.] she took the fairy ride and ascended to the far country. We cried out and mourned how frantically! We learn from her testamentary statement that the period of full mourning is to be limited to twenty-seven days. We certainly cannot be satisfied with this. Full mourning must be worn for one hundred days and half mourning for twenty-seven months, by which our grief may be partly expressed. The order to restrain grief so that the affairs of the empire may be of first importance we dare not disregard, as it is her parting command. We will strive to be temperate so as to comfort the spirit of the late Empress in Heaven.”

We call attention to the fact that according to the fourth of these edicts the death of the Emperor is put at from 5 to 7 P. M on the evening of the 14th of November, while that of the Empress Dowager is from 1 to 3 P. M. of the same day at least two hours earlier, and that in her last edict she is made to speak of the death of Kuang Hsu. Whether these dates have become mixed in crossing to America we have not been able to ascertain, though we think it more than likely that her death occurred on November 15th instead of the 14th.

XXII

The Court and the New Education

Abolish the eight-legged essay. Let the new learning be the test of scholarship, but include the classics, history, geography and government of China in the examinations. The true essay will then come out. If so desired, the eight-legged essay can be studied at home; but why trouble the school with them, and at the same time waste time and strength that can be expended in something more profitable? –Chang Chih-tung in “Chinas Only Hope,”

XXII

THE COURT AND THE NEW EDUCATION

The changes in the attitude of the court towards a new educational system began, as do many great undertakings, in a very simple way. We have already shown how the eunuchs secured all kinds of foreign mechanical toys to entertain the baby Emperor Kuang Hsu; how these were supplemented in his boyhood by ingenious clocks and watches; how he became interested in the telegraph, the telephone, steam cars, steamboats, electric light and steam heat, and how he had them first brought into the palace and then established throughout the empire: and how he had the phonograph, graphophone, cinematograph, bicycle, and indeed all the useful and unique inventions of modern times brought in for his entertainment.

He then began the study of English. When in 1894 a New Testament was sent to the Empress Dowager on the occasion of her sixtieth birthday, he at once secured from the American Bible Society a copy of the complete Bible for himself. He began studying the Gospel of Luke. This gave him a taste for foreign literature and he sent his eunuchs to the various book depositories and bought every book that had been translated from the European languages into the Chinese. To these he bent all his energies and it soon became noised abroad that the Emperor was studying foreign books and was about to embrace the Christian faith. This continued from 1894 till 1898, during which time his example was followed by tens of thousands of young Chinese scholars throughout the empire, and Chang Chih-tung wrote his epoch-making book “China’s Only Hope” which, being sent to the young Emperor, led him to enter upon a universal reform, the chief feature of which may be considered the adoption of a new educational system.

But now let us notice the animus of Kuang Hsu. He has been praised without stint for his leaning towards foreign affairs, when in reality was it not simply an effort on the part of the young man to make China strong enough to resist the incursions of the European powers? Germany had taken Kiaochou, Russia had taken Port Arthur, Japan had taken Formosa, Great Britain had taken Weihaiwei, France had taken Kuangchouwan, and even Italy was anxious to have a slice of his territory, while all the English papers in the port cities were talking of China being divided up amongst the Powers, and it was these things which led the Emperor to enter upon his work of reform.

In the summer of 1898 therefore he sent out an edict to the effect that: “Our scholars are now without solid and practical education; our artisans are without scientific instructors; when compared with other countries WE SOON SEE HOW WEAK WE ARE. DOES ANY ONE THINK THAT OUR TROOPS ARE AS WELL DRILLED OR AS WELL LED AS THOSE OF THE FOREIGN ARMIES? OR THAT WE CAN SUCCESSFULLY STAND AGAINST THEM? Changes must be made to accord with the necessities of the times. . . . Keeping in mind the morals of the sages and wise men, we must make them the basis on which to build newer and better structures. WE MUST SUBSTITUTE MODERN ARMS AND WESTERN ORGANIZATION FOR OUR OLD REGIME; WE MUST SELECT OUR MILITARY OFFICERS ACCORDING TO WESTERN METHODS OF MILITARY EDUCATION; we must establish elementary and high schools, colleges and universities, in accordance with those of foreign countries; we must abolish the Wen-chang (literary essay) and obtain a knowledge of ancient and modern world-history, a right conception of the present-day state of affairs, with special reference to the governments and institutions of the countries of the five great continents; and we must understand their arts and sciences.”

The effect of this edict was to cause hundreds of thousands of young aspirants for office to put aside the classics and unite in establishing reform clubs in many of the provincial capitals, open ports, and prefectural cities. Book depots were opened for the sale of the same kind of literature the Emperor had been studying, magazines and newspapers were issued and circulated in great numbers, lectures were delivered and libraries established, and students flocked to the mission schools ready to study anything the course contained, literary, scientific or religious. Christians and pastors were even invited into the palace by the eunuchs to dine with and instruct them. But the matter that gave the deepest concern to the boy in the palace was: “How can we so strengthen ourselves that we will be able to resist the White Peril from Europe?”

Among the important edicts issued in the establishment of the new education was the one of June 11, 1898, in which he ordered that “a great central university be established at Peking,” the funds for which were provided by the government. Among other things he said: “Let all take advantage of the opportunities for the new education thus open to them, so that in time we may have many who will be competent to help us in the stupendous task of putting our country on a level with the strongest of the western powers.” It was not wisdom the young man was after for the sake of wisdom, but he wanted knowledge because knowledge was power, and at that time it was the particular kind of power that was necessary to save China from utter destruction.

On the 26th of the same month he censured the princes and ministers who were lax in reporting upon this edict, and ordered them to do so at once, and it was not long until a favourable report was given and, for the first time in the history of the empire, a great university was launched by the government, destined, may we not hope, to accomplish the end the ambitious boy Emperor had in view.

Kuang Hsu was aware that a single institution was not sufficient to accomplish that end. On July 10th therefore he ordered that “schools and colleges be established in all the provincial capitals, prefectoral, departmental and district cities, and allowed the viceroys and governors but two months to report upon the number of colleges and free schools within their provinces,” saying that “all must be changed into practical schools for the teaching of Chinese literature, and Western learning and become feeders to the Peking Imperial University.” He ordered further that all memorial and other temples that had been erected by the people but which were not recorded in the list of the Board of Rites or of Sacrificial Worship, were to be turned into schools and colleges for the propagation of Western learning, a thought which was quite in harmony with that advocated by Chang Chih- tung. The funds for carrying on this work, and the establishment of these schools, were to be provided for by the China Merchants’ Steamship Company, the Telegraph Company and the Lottery at Canton.

On August 4th he ordered that numerous preparatory schools be established in Peking as special feeders to the university; and on the 9th appointed Dr. W. A. P. Martin as Head of the Faculty and approved the site suggested for the university by Sun Chia-nai, the president. On the 16th he authorized the establishment of a Bureau for “translating into Chinese Western works on science, arts and literature, and textbooks for use in schools and colleges”; and on the 19th he abolished the “Palace examinations for Hanlins as useless, superficial and obsolete,” thus severing the last cord that bound them to the old regime.

What, now, was the Empress Dowager doing while Kuang Hsu was issuing all these reform edicts, which, we are told, were so contrary to all her reactionary principles? Why did she not stretch forth her hand and prevent them? She was spending the hot months at the Summer Palace, fifteen miles away, without offering either advice, objection or hindrance, and it was not until two delegations of officials and princes had appeared before her and plead with her to come and take control of affairs and thus save them from being ousted or beheaded, and herself from imprisonment, did she consent to come. By thus taking the throne she virtually placed herself in the hands of the conservative party, and all his reform measures, except that of the Peking University and provincial schools, were, for the time, countermanded, and the Boxers were allowed to test their strength with the allied Powers.

Passing over the two bad years of the Empress Dowager, which we have treated in another chapter, we find her again, after the failure of the Boxer uprising, and the return of the court to Peking, reissuing the same style of edicts that had gone out from the pen of Kuang Hsu. On August 29, 1901, she ordered “the abolition of essays on the Chinese classics in examinations for literary degrees, and substituted therefor essays and articles on some phase of modern affairs, Western laws or political economy. This same procedure is to be followed in examination of candidates for office.”

And now notice another phase of this same edict. “The old methods of gaining military degrees by trial of strength with stone weights, agility with the sword, or marksmanship with the bow on foot or on horseback, ARE OF NO USE TO MEN IN THE ARMY, WHERE STRATEGY AND MILITARY SCIENCE ARE THE SINE QUA NON TO OFFICE, and hence they should be done away with forever.” It is, as it was with Kuang Hsu, the strengthening of the army she has in mind in her first efforts at reform, that she may be able to back up with war-ships and cannon, if necessary, her refusal to allow Italy or any other European power to filch, without reason or excuse, the territory of her ancestors.

September 12, 1901, she issued another edict commanding that “all the colleges in the empire should be turned into schools of Western learning; each provincial capital should have a university like that in Peking, whilst all the schools in the prefectures and districts are to be schools or colleges of the second or third class,” neither more nor less than a restatement of the edict of July 10, 1898, as issued by the deposed Emperor, except that she confined it to the schools without taking the temples.

September 17, 1901, she ordered “the viceroys and governors of other provinces to follow the example of Liu Kun-yi of Liang Kiang, Chang Chih-tung of Hukuang, and Kuei Chun (Manchu) of Szechuan, in sending young men of scholastic promise abroad to study any branch of Western science or art best suited to their tastes, that in time they may return to China and place the fruits of their knowledge at the service of the empire.” Such were some of the edicts issued by the Emperor and the Empress Dowager in their efforts to launch this new system of education which was to transform the old China into a strong and sturdy youth. What now were the results?

The Imperial College in Shansi was opened with 300 students all of whom had already taken the Chinese degree of Bachelor of Arts. It had both Chinese and foreign departments, and after the students had completed the first, they were allowed to pass on to the second, which had six foreign professors who held diplomas from Western colleges or universities, and a staff of six translators of university textbooks into Chinese, superintended by a foreigner. In 1901-2 ten provinces, under the wise leadership of the Empress Dowager, opened colleges for the support of which they raised not less than $400,000.

The following are some of the questions given at the triennial examinations of these two years in six southern provinces:

1. “As Chinese and Western laws differ, and Western people will not submit to Chinese punishments, what ought to be done that China, like other nations, may be mistress in her own country?”

2. “What are the Western sources of economic prosperity, and as China is now so poor, what should she do?”

3. “According to international law has any one a right to interfere with the internal affairs of any foreign country?”

4. “State the advantages of constructing railways in Shantung.”

5. “Of what importance is the study of chemistry to the agriculturist?”

While Yuan Shih-kai was Governor of Shantung he induced Dr. W. M. Hayes to resign the presidency of the Presbyterian College at Teng Choufu and accept the presidency of the new government college at Chinanfu the capital of the province. Dr. Hayes drew up a working plan of grammar and high schools for Shantung which were to be feeders to this provincial college. This was approved by the Governor, and embodied in a memorial to the throne, copies of which the Empress Dowager sent to the governors and viceroys of all the provinces declaring it to be a law, and ordering the “viceroys, governors and literary chancellors to see that it was obeyed.”

Dr. Hayes and Yuan Shih-kai soon split upon a regulation which the Governor thought it best to introduce, viz., “That the Chinese professors shall, on the first and fifteenth of each month, conduct their classes in reverential sacrifice to the Most Holy Confucius, and to all the former worthies and scholars of the provinces.” Dr. Hayes and his Christian teachers withdrew, and it was not long until those who professed Christianity were excused from this rite, while the Christian physicians who taught in the Peking Imperial University were allowed to dispense with the queue and wear foreign clothes, as being both more convenient and more sanitary.

When Governor Yuan was made viceroy of Chihli, he requested Dr. C. D. Tenny to draw up and put into operation a similar schedule for the metropolitan province. This was done on a very much enlarged scale, and at present (1909) “the Chihli province alone has nine thousand schools, all of which are aiming at Western education; while in the empire as a whole there are not less than forty thousand schools, colleges and universities,” representing one phase of the educational changes that have been brought about