Empires and Emperors of Russia, China, Korea, and Japan Part 12

I wish I could have fixed the picture then unrolled before my eyes; or have possessed a lantern of real magic, that could picture now all I saw, outline and colour and haze, all that was bright and all that was shadow!

It was a scene never to be forgotten.

A crowd dressed in all the hues of the rainbow, carrying silken flags, embroidered banners, painted inscriptions, gauze-covered lanterns, and glittering trophies: all the emblems of power, all the symbols of the Celestial Empire. The wondrous crowd stretches into a scattered procession and winds across the narrow lane like a giant serpent, with s.h.i.+mmering scales, in a fairy tale.

A more fitting pageant could not approach the Dragon's Court. The huge scarlet gate, studded with golden nails, swings open on its groaning hinges. Soldiers, like the fantastic creations of an uncanny dream, present their strange medley of arms--long spears, crescent-shaped scythes, threatening spikes, and grim battle-axes, are silhouetted against the peaceful sky.

We enter the huge courtyard, and there is another surprise. A large square, paved with white marble, enclosed on the four sides by four marble terraces supporting each an open hall, covered with yellow tiles, and the whole domed by the sapphire firmament of the Eastern sky. The open s.p.a.ce is filled with mandarins, all dressed in dark blue silk embroidered with gold; at first sight all very much alike, and yet in the embroidery very different, each minute detail expressing some distinction. Through the central hall we get to another great courtyard, apparently a copy of the first, larger, finer, and more magnificent, but in style always the same; four open halls, white marble terraces, white marble pavements, golden roofs, and sapphire dome. All the inmates are clad in sapphire and gold, the only colours I could perceive. The whole picture is painted in the gradations of these hues. It was a perfect harmony of colour, so artistic and refined that it compelled admiration.

I have been at many great receptions, but I can remember none more impressive than the reception at the Summer Palace. That suppliants at the throne must arrive through many gates and courts and halls enhances the effect. As you approach, each gate is more magnificent, each courtyard larger, each hall loftier, all combining to add grandeur to the ceremony.

In each court there are suave courtiers and silky mandarins. As we advance the rank is higher, until in the inner court there are a.s.sembled the highest Viceroys and Princes of the Imperial blood.

But I have no leisure to observe the glory of the place--gold, jewels, and suns.h.i.+ne are too much together. I can only see a dark blue carpet that leads us to the steps of the central hall--or paG.o.da, as I would prefer to call it--one of those fancy structures we read about in nursery tales.

The hall seems indeed strange to us; marvellous to Western eyes. It takes me some time to distinguish between colour and shape, what is reality and what is fiction. At first I perceive flowers gathered into wreaths and hung in rich festoons. They are chrysanthemums of many shapes and shades, some exceedingly small, some exceptionally large, some resembling the rose, some like huge spiders; from pale sulphur to dark bronze, there is every hue of gold. They are placed in bowls and vases, marvels of age, of incomparable beauty and priceless value, which, as I hear from my friend Li, were rebought at extortionate figures from the Europeans who looted them.

And in this perfect garden of flowers there are mounds of magnificent fruit piled up in brightly enamelled cloisonne dishes, fresh peaches, luscious pears, bright oranges; but again, all of them in the tints of gold. Each fruit and flower, of which there are so many standing isolated, has its symbolic meaning in China--the peach, longevity; the plum, youth; the cherry, affection; and the chrysanthemum, everlasting beauty.

But I do not want to read the language of fruits and flowers. What interests me is the artistic beauty of the decorations and the perfect stage management of the surroundings.

From the point of view of the artist or the organizer it is perfect. It is an exquisite harmony, limited to the tones of gold, the sapphire, and the emerald, with the rich hues of a peac.o.c.k's feather carried to its climax in decorations, paintings, embroidery, dresses, flowers, and fruit.

Each object in the hall has its purpose in the magnificent scheme. It may be a simple chrysanthemum or a flag on the canopy over the throne itself, but they all emphasize the same grand central idea.

Whatever our opinions of Chinese art may be, we cannot fail to admire its vigour and its refinement. During my repeated visits to that land, it gave me continuous interest and constant surprises. It is always grand, always strong, and always refined.

These same features strike me here today in the Summer Palace. The greatness of the architectural conception, the marvellous plan of the surroundings, the amplitude of the accessories, all contribute to make the Summer Palace of Pekin more royal and imperial than any other palace in the world. And again, as to refinement, I cannot imagine anything more charming than the decorations and embellishments, which are modulated like a symphony.

What is the Dowager Empress like? What do you think of the young Emperor? are questions everybody will ask. In the first place, the Empress is of average height, strongly built, and completely self-possessed. As for her dress, I am afraid I cannot describe ladies'

attire as I can objects of art. She was, I remember, clad in some dark blue colour, embroidered with golden thread. What struck me most was the Manchu head-dress, which causes the hair to project from the head like the long wings of a bat, each decorated with a bunch of chrysanthemums.

The Empress is a Manchu, and clings to her national garments and fas.h.i.+ons, which, if they have no other advantage, at least permit the children's feet to be at liberty, contrary to the Chinese custom.

She was seated on a high throne, elaborately carved, heavily gilded, and covered by a magnificent canopy. Before her was a table, on which she rested her long-nailed fingers. On her left, one step below, the Emperor was seated, making in his meek appearance a striking contrast to his imperious aunt.

It cannot be denied that the Dowager Empress of China has a commanding appearance. Nearly seventy years of age, she looks younger, and her strong features have kept all their mobility. The square forehead, strong nose, and firm mouth, are the most prominent features; but I think her character is best seen in the drooping twitch of the mouth, and her searching gaze. Nothing seems to escape her. During the whole reception her keen glance followed every movement, and examined separately every individual.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE EMPRESS DOWAGER OF CHINA Reproduced by kind permission of Mr Eveleigh Nash, from Miss K. A. Carl's volume "With the Empress Dowager of China" To face page 184]

We stood in a long row before the steps of the throne, and the _doyen_ of the diplomatic body stepped forward to deliver his official greeting.

It was a cordial speech; taking recent events into consideration, almost too cordial, and I am afraid, as translated by Prince Ching, it a.s.sumed an even more complimentary tone.

Even so it did not rise to this proud woman's expectations. She heard it unmoved, without any visible sign of emotion, I venture to say without interest.

Her mouth retained its sceptical curve, her glance was cold and haughty; and when old Prince Ching had kow-towed for the last time to the ground the Empress gave the order by a commanding sign that the answer should be read, but without uttering a syllable.

The answer was read, and listened to in perfect silence. The fall of a leaf could have been heard. It was not long, and merely said, "Her Majesty the Empress was glad the representatives of the Powers had had a favourable day for their visit."

Was it meant to be a compliment or was it sarcasm? It would be difficult to judge. It was ambiguous, but it gave a certain insight into the speaker's character. It might have served to explain a little bit more of this extraordinary mind which has manifested itself in such manifold ways, and led to so many paradoxical actions. Of the dark stories that are whispered of the palace, I would not like to speak. Whether they are true or false must always remain in doubt.

If the Empress is not talkative when receiving a diplomatic body, if she is silent on a state occasion, it only shows her great caution. It was by her personal ability and hard work she rose step by step to the highest position of the empire. To attain it undoubtedly hard work and strength were required, and to keep it all her life must have called for even greater efforts. And this is so much more the case on account of the insignificance of the part played by women in Chinese life. What ways and means she employed must be left for history to narrate.

As I mentioned before, she seemed to be a keen observer. All she saw, the whole reception, must have been so new to her, if we consider that to be seen by ordinary human eyes is to the Celestial Imperial Family like a crime. Each time the Court moves from the Summer to the Winter Palace, along the whole length of the road each door and shutter is heavily closed, and the punishment of decapitation hangs over anybody discovered gazing at her.

It must seem even harder to have to receive a body of men in the privacy of her home, for such a proceeding is utterly repugnant to all Eastern conceptions.

But it might interest people to know that, on one occasion, when she invited only the ladies of the foreign legations, her reception of them was most cordial. She took tea with them, and showed unlimited interest in all their domestic affairs. She wanted to know the number of their children, the exact amount of their incomes; but what seemed to interest her most of all was their age. She admired some of their jewels, and went so far as to ask as a souvenir a very costly fan, and returned, as the greatest sign of her regard, one of her own. Its value was small, as it merely consisted of a few square inches of rice-paper, on which were painted a few chrysanthemums. But, as the Empress explained with a witty smile, the painting was the work of her own hands, and she hoped that would be an ample reward.

There is no question, the Dowager Empress is a clever woman and a skilful politician. The best proof of her diplomatic ability is that she is seated before us on her golden throne. The day on which the rescuing force was led into the besieged city to relieve the famis.h.i.+ng legations and help the tortured Christians, the Empress and all her Court were fleeing through a devastated country in a lumbering wooden car. The mighty Empress took refuge in humble houses, hid herself in stables, and crawled for concealment into caves. Who would have believed that those deserted beings, that scattered Court, would return to the palace under the protection of the same allied force that arrived to avenge outraged Justice and set her once more on her throne?

The life of the young Emperor is familiar to all. His struggle for freedom and progress failed utterly, and he now seems, morally and physically, a wreck. I was told that when his ideas had been discovered he was separated from his entourage, shut up in a pavilion, and kept as a prisoner. He sat in his armchair, immovable, almost as if he were asleep. It was a sad spectacle, and one to arouse the deepest sympathy.

We remained for the whole of the day as guests of Their Majesties, wandering in the wonderland of their favourite grounds, going from palace to paG.o.da, from temple to hall, each a separate gem of Chinese art, and each bearing evidence of wanton mutilation by the allied troops. I felt grieved that such monuments of history and pieces of art, which should have been a cherished possession of all the world, should have been destroyed by what we call civilized white men.

We strolled over marble bridges, climbed paG.o.das built of china, were shown the marvellous orchard, planted with dwarf trees, the favourite resort of the Princess, and had tea served on the Marble Boat.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SUMMER PALACE "We remained for the whole day as guests of their Majesties, wandering in the wonderland of their favourite grounds" To face page 188]

But the great feature of the day was the state banquet, where we were served with, I dare say, a hundred courses of unimaginable dainties: sharks' fins, water-sparrows, eggs of great age, nests of sea-birds, and puppy chops. But I will not weary my readers with such details.

I only want to tell of my journey back along the dusty highway to Pekin.

I was so worn out and faint with hunger, not having been able to appreciate the Chinese cooking, that I stopped for rest and a dish of boiled rice at our orphanage at Pei-tang, where the popular hooded nuns, so well known for their heroic sacrifices on battle-fields, in plague hospitals and leper homes, maintain an asylum to save the lives of little children who would otherwise sometimes be killed by their own parents.

These children are brought up to be good men and useful citizens; and I can only wish that the Empress, instead of giving banquets of a hundred courses at the Summer Palace, would send some crumbs to the little starving babes.

And never have I appreciated a meal more than on that evening, after so much gold and glitter and external show, in the humble abode.

VIII

KOREA OF BYGONE DAYS AND ON THE EVE OF THE WAR

I

The history of Korea reads like a fairy tale. The Land of the Morning Calm beyond the seas is so quaint, so very much out of the common, that we can hardly realize that all we hear of it is reality and not mere fiction.

The country, the people, and the life are all strange, and totally different from what we see and meet with in other parts of the world. I can scarcely imagine anything more impressive than for a traveller coming straight from some Western port to land in this country--one of the remotest in the East. It is as though he had set foot in a topsy-turvy world; everything is the reverse of what he has been accustomed to. Facts and ideas are antagonistic to ours; things material and spiritual seem to be governed by other rules and other natural laws.

The origin of Korea is buried in myth and mystery; its past is so varied, such an ever-changing chiaroscuro, that we look upon it as legendary. Its present remains true to tradition.

Within the limits of this chapter I would like to deal with Korea from a more utilitarian point of view, and not merely to describe the traditions, quaint customs, and picturesque features of the land. My desire is to represent Korea not only as one of the quaintest countries on the surface of the globe--a land of old-world type--but as a country in the first stage of transition.

The difference between ancient and modern Korea is stupendous; a few years seem to have done the work of centuries. Korea of the past is undoubtedly the more attractive to the traveller, but Korea of the present does not lack interest for one anxious to find in this corner of the earth something more than panoramic scenery.

The old order still catches the eye everywhere; new reforms are lost in the crowd. Outwardly everything is old, but an inward change is being effected day by day. The ancient cut and faint colour of the garb have been preserved, but new ideas are being constantly interwoven and are obliterating the old. Ancient habits and customs are dying out hourly and irretrievably, and have to give way to modern utilitarianism. The days of old Korea are numbered.