Entrance to the Forbidden CityENTRANCE TO THE FORBIDDEN CITY"The centre of this marvellous maze is the Emperor's sanctuary"[To face page 158]
ENTRANCE TO THE FORBIDDEN CITY"The centre of this marvellous maze is the Emperor's sanctuary"[To face page 158]
From the large gate a broad street leads through the Imperial and Tartar towns to the great Southern Gate, one of the strangest thoroughfares in the world. The innermost wall is set in a square of broad moats. Four arched marble bridges lead to the four gates. The jagged wall, the pagoda-like towers of the bastions, the arches of the bridges, all are decorated with finely carved dragons, as rigidly prescribed by law. Walls, moats, towers, and palaces, are repeated in all parts of the gigantic palace; the walls of all buildings being painted red. The shape of the yellow-tiled roofs is that of booths. Everything is planned in accordance with traditions thousands of years old. The threshold must not be larger than that which Confucius crossed, nor must the door be wider than the length of the great teacher's arms.
Every detail of the dwelling, to the minutest ornament, has some symbolic or mythical significance;for instance, at the entrance one never fails to find the wall which tradition demands to protect the peaceful inhabitants from evil spirits, while the ceiling of the house must not be higher than any of the goblins would care to ascend.
In the same way the trimming or embroidery of the dress of an official or courtier has its particular meaning. This likewise applies to private individuals, and the innermost chambers of their homes, simply because it is required by law.
It is this rigid system that makes China appear so uniform, at any rate outwardly. This same system, too, gives her her great interest from a psychological point of view.
There is hardly any nation or people, throughout the whole history of civilization, whose life has been so profoundly and lastingly influenced by doctrine as the population of the Yellow Empire has been by the teachings of Confucius. From the celestial altar (representing the centre of the universe), where only the Son of Heaven may worship his Father, down to each separate temple, yamen, and stone of sacrifice, everything expresses one and the same ethical idea. It is this gigantic moral system, with its organic life penetrating to the minutest detail, that keeps China strong, even in her present decadence, and makes Pekin, even amidst its ruins, one of the greatest citieson earth. It is the plan, or let us say conception, which makes us wonder. The metaphysical qualities of this people fascinate us; their ancient traditions are still their strongholds, and their old systems, however degenerate, the source of moral strength. But I hope to deal more fully elsewhere with the psychological side of China. At present I only want to give a hasty sketch of its capital.
One can scarcely imagine a more systematically laid out city than Pekin. The throne is in the centre; thence radiates every street, thither leads every road. It is the focus of the city, the heart of the empire, but—forbidden ground. The man who sets foot therein forfeits his life, so sacred and inviolable is it. Within the second wall the Imperial Family and the Court reside, precious stones set in gold, as the bards say.
Next comes the so-called Imperial city. The extensive Lotus Lake, the long marble bridge, the Maisan hill, the summer residence of the Dowager Empress, are all contained in that vast area—a number of little towns whose wonders would take whole chapters to describe. Each of them has its own mysterious history.
There was a time when, among the clusters of the lotus, more blood flowed than water. Upon one of the islets stands a summer-house,a very homely building, looking as though its only purpose must be to shelter happiness; but fate made a most gloomy prison of it. There the young Emperor was confined, in anguish, like a criminal, and never knowing whether the morrow would find him alive or lying at the bottom of the lake.
Poor young Emperor! Though he has regained his liberty—if leaving the island for the palace walls can be called freedom—his mind is wrapped in darkness. His youthful dream of making his people happy has vanished for ever. His lofty ideals have crumbled to dust, and of his early counsellors, some are in exile, others in the eternal silence.
The new town residence of the Empress is along the south-eastern wall, and there are other houses enclosed in gardens, all exhibiting the same architectural uniformity—red walls and yellow roofs. The only decoration is the marble staircase with carved dragons. In the adjacent gardens are the quarters of the household staff, and close by the old Foreign Mission and the cathedral. The Mission exchanged those quarters for a fine site farther off, where it is now established.
TheMaisan(meaning "mount of coal") is an artificial hill in front of the principal Northern Gate. Its five peaks are adorned with fine summer residences of unequalled beauty, androofed with enamelled tiles, displaying a number of the porcelain towers so familiar to us from our school-books.
Many versions have come down to posterity as to the origin of theMaisan, but I am inclined to think that originally it was erected for the same purpose as the walls round the gates—that of protection against evil spirits. My assumption is rather confirmed by the fact that in the grove extending along the side of the hill stands the great death-chamber, a hall supported on colossal pillars, wherein is deposited the coffin of a deceased Emperor. The funeral procession passes through the large Northern Gate in front of the graves of the Emperors. In China, where everything has a meaning, it would be fallacious to assume that theMaisandid not symbolize something, and the uncertainty and mystery only enhance the beauty of the evergreen groves of the place. It is like the Roman Testaccian Hill in this respect, the only interesting feature of whose barrenness lies in its mysterious origin.
Triumphal ArchTRIUMPHAL ARCH"TheMaisanis an artificial wall in front of the principalNorthern Gate"[To face page 162]
TRIUMPHAL ARCH"TheMaisanis an artificial wall in front of the principalNorthern Gate"[To face page 162]
The fourth wall is that of the Tartar city, which is almost square, and has altogether ten gates—three to the north, three to the south, two to the east, and two to the west. The wall is about seventeen miles long and fifty feet high, and so wide that a dozen soldiers abreast can ride on it comfortably. At its four corners are four three-storeyed bastions with double-gabled,green-tiled roofs. Over the gates are towers with similar roofs, and everywhere the same Imperial emblems, the same dragons and ornamentation. Everything bears the stamp of uniformity, embodying one canon of taste and one idea.
One can hardly imagine a grander and more sombre structure than the symmetrical, harmonious walls of Pekin, and the more we see of them the more we are charmed.
The wall of the Chinese town was added to that of the Tartar city to form a parallelogram; it is similar to the former, though somewhat more modest. To the north the three gates of the Tartar city serve as entrance, while on its eastern and western sides are two gates respectively, and to the south is the principal entrance to Pekin. Then come the moats and ditches and the ubiquitous bridges. So any one desiring to approach the throne must pass altogether through five cities, seven gates, and five bridges, and in the Imperial city one must walk through five halls and five courts ere the throne itself is reached.
The conception of all this is as grand as it is masterly. Nowhere is the idea of majesty enhanced so infinitely, and nowhere is power adorned to such an extent as in China. The Winter Palace and Windsor Castle are merely private dwellings, and even Versailles loses muchof its grandeur when compared to the Imperial Palace in Pekin.
It is only a few months since the Court returned from its protracted exile to the deserted palaces; and what a brilliant and magnificent spectacle that grand procession afforded on the long route through five cities and so many gates and bridges! although the uniforms of the soldiers must have looked rather shabby and the coats of the mandarins somewhat worn. The pageant must have been one of the most striking ever seen.
VTHE CHINESE CITY
The skill of the mechanics and industry of the Chinese artisans are proverbial, and it is a never-ending source of interest to watch them, or to study the commercial spirit of the people. I have lately seen a good deal of the commercial life of Pekin, though I am more familiar with that of Niu-chwang. The long rows of caravans, coming from the western frontier and Tibet, and laden with merchandise peculiar to those regions, are characteristic of the former.
The centre of trade is in the Chinese city; but how can I convey an idea of this to those who do not know this people and this part of the world? What a blending of colours! what noiseand dust! what an infinity of light and shade! what a wonderful mosaic! Who could ever grasp the total effect in all its splendour? Who could ever understand it in all its mystery?
Every detail is so novel, and everything I see comes as a surprise. During my prolonged stay I go out every afternoon on some extended walk of exploration, and the greatest charm of my wanderings is that I come across famous monuments when I least expect them. I divide the city into different portions, and each day I visit another quincunx. My task is the easier owing to the fact that the town is built on a chess-board plan, like a military encampment. Strictly speaking, it is composed of several towns, each having its own distinct characteristics and purpose, and each a peculiar architecture, while each is inhabited by a different caste. The so-called Tartar city is the home of all the Manchus, who followed the present dynasty from their native land. They are mostly public officials, or enrolled in the Imperial army.
The Inner, or Imperial city, is reserved for mandarins and higher Court dignitaries, and encloses the more restricted area with the three consecutive cities—the Purple, Forbidden, and Sacred. One part of the Purple City is entirely reserved for the Empress Dowager, and the other part contains the abodes of the Court and their guardians. The centre of this marvellousmaze is the Emperor's sanctuary.
On the southern side of the Tartar city extends the Chinese city, set apart entirely for commercial purposes, where all the Chinese live, whence its name. All the famous shops are there, and there a bustling trade is carried on from morning till night.
"Are the Pekin sights worth seeing?" is the universal question of new arrivals. It would be easier to give an answer if one were asked, "What isnotworth seeing, and what can be omitted in Pekin?" Among my many excursions there was not one devoid of some striking discovery—a fine building, unknown spot, or quaint scene; and even when I did not come across any regular sight, I was always surrounded by a world full of interest, a world by itself.
If I were to give my opinion, I should advise the foreigner, before everything, to examine this quaint world which surrounds him, and to seek to understand its exuberant life; and it would be a great advantage to visit the different parts of the city at different hours of the day, to watch the sun rise from the city walls when the town seems to awake with the sudden burst of light, and to pass the morning hours in the narrow lanes, overcrowded with shops; at midday to pay visits to the official yamens and to local grandees, or to drive in the afternoon to one of the temples, or make an excursion to theneighbouring shrines and watch the sun set from the eastern hills, or the top of the famous pagodas, lost amidst the country.
From an artistic standpoint there are a great many gems to be found, while so far as nature is concerned, the surrounding hills are unsurpassed in their scenery.
The Imperial deer-park is very fine too, and in its quiet melancholy offers a charming haunt for solitary rides. Another place for an outing is the famous Princesses' Tombs, which are worth while visiting in every respect. And there is the charming old Portuguese cemetery, with its sad graves of the first Christians, who played such a leading part at the Emperor's Court in the seventeenth century. The inscriptions on the monuments and white marble crosses are so many records of the first missionaries' work. And farther on is one of Pekin's architectural marvels, the well-known so-called Thirteen-storeyed Pagoda. Its walls are richly carved with uncanny figures, and it is covered with an indescribable roof, looking like thirteen umbrellas put one on top of the other.
There are, moreover, the two Summer Palaces, one of rich French rococo, but now lying in ruins, and the other, which still serves as a summer abode, occupying a vast area, scattered over with many kiosks, tea-houses, and yamens, laid out with marvellous gardens, artificial fishponds, and marble bridges. Unluckily, entranceto it is strictly forbidden, and a trespasser would be punished by decapitation. Until quite recently permission was never accorded to a foreigner to penetrate this forbidden paradise. Now on certain occasions the diplomatic body is received within, and at such a function I was an invited guest; but as I have endeavoured, in another chapter, to give a description, however inadequately, of this wonderland of china pagodas, hanging gardens belonging to the modern Semiramis, and forests planted with miniature orchards and pines, I will not enlarge upon them here. It would indeed be impossible to depict in words what can only be realized by sight. I can only hope that others may have the same privilege.
I would give the same advice with regard to the Imperial Palace in Pekin, which, after all, is the greatest wonder of this wondrous city.
While rambling in Pekin, no one should omit to explore the main thoroughfares of both cities, to visit the side lanes, nor to stop before the great Chinese Gate, or Ta-chin-men, and look straight down and enjoy the marvellous panorama of the Ch'ien-men, or Great Street. Sitting on the marble balustrade of the Ch'ien-men San-tau Bridge, one could spend hours in watching the extraordinary scene. The whole population of this gigantic city seems to assemble here at certain hours of the day. Rich mandarins onhorses with elaborate trappings and humble coolies, princes coming from Mongolia, carried in splendid litters, are stopped by the half-naked members of the celebrated Beggars' Guild. There are shops on both sides and booths in front of each shop, displaying more modest wares; and besides this double row of shops, there is a third row of goods for sale; but this department consists merely of mats or sheets of paper spread out in the gutter, where ragamuffins offer the treasure-trove of the preceding night. Behind the Ch'ien-men Street is a maze of alleys, packed with warehouses and richly carved fronts, which form the most marvellous bazaar ever seen. And the effect of this fairyland built of cardboard and tinsel is enhanced by the sun coming through the open spaces in the awnings in shafts of light. Indeed, I would strongly recommend every one to take his first reconnoitring walk through the Ch'ien-men quarter.
As for sights and architectural treasures, there is such an amazing number of them that it is necessary to employ a little discrimination and to put aside the ambition of the average sightseer, which is to say, "I did them all."
Among the temples, the Hall of the Classics, or Pi-yung-kung, also called the Temple of Confucius, which contains the complete text of the nine King or Classical Books, the foundation of ancient Chinese literature, is one of the mostremarkable. There are several interesting buildings in its shady grounds, and the entrance arch, covered with beautiful yellow porcelain, is a triumph of Chinese art. Kwo-tsze-chien is another fine pile, and its foundation dates from the time of the Yuan dynasty, which reigned in the thirteenth century. The main hall contains a most interesting wooden tablet, with a characteristic inscription as follows: "The tablet to the soul of the most holy ancestral teacher, Confucius."
The best known and most often described temple is that of the famous Lama monastery, which is a town in itself, composed of many buildings and still owning many art treasures, some very good pieces of cloisonné, and excellent jade work. At certain hours of the day the monks have services with wonderful ritual, and a procession of the Great Lama, clad in royal purple and saffron-yellow, followed by his silk-draped staff, wearing helmets and crests bristling with feathers. It is a spectacle of unquestionable novelty to a European.
Outside the wall one must not omit a visit to Hwang-ssu, where, in the centre court, stands a white marble monument, erected by the Emperor Kien-lung to the memory of the Teshoo Lama, who was the uncle of the one in Lhassa, the Dalai Lama, and who, during a visit to the Imperial city, where he was the guest of theEmperor himself, died suddenly, as the inscription says, of malignant smallpox. Not less famous is the Ta-chung-ssu, or Temple of the Great Bell. It was built in the sixteenth century, and contains the largest bell in the empire, which a century and a half before was cast by order of Yung-Lo.
But among all the temples, as its name indicates, the finest is the so-called Temple of Heaven, where only the Emperor has the right to offer sacrifice. It stands in a grove, occupying over a square mile, in the south-eastern quarter of the Chinese city, and although it consists of but a few buildings only, each is one of the marvels of the East.
The main hall is a rotunda, a kind of pagoda built on top of a platform, which, with its balustrade and the flight of steps skirting it all round, are of finely carved marble. The colonnade, supporting the umbrella-like roof, is of purple lacquered timber, the tiles being of blue porcelain; and I think it is the only building which is permitted to be covered with the colour of the sky. From this unique shrine, across the grass and through the grove, leads a marble pathway to the Imperial altar.
This altar, if so it can be called, is really another platform like the previous one from which we came, but it is even more imposing, higher, and surrounded by more elaborate stairsand finer balustrades. It has no shrine and no pagoda on the top of it; its colonnade is formed by the cedars and cypresses of the grove which surround it, and the dome of this spotless white marble pedestal is the cloudless blue sky.
The Temple of HeavenTHE TEMPLE OF HEAVEN"The main hall is a rotunda"[To face page 172]
THE TEMPLE OF HEAVEN"The main hall is a rotunda"[To face page 172]
It would be vain to try to make the beauty of this spot comprehensible. Besides, my aim is not to trespass on the domain of a guide-book, which very likely would give a whole chapter to this place, and even so, I am afraid, would never succeed in conveying the poetic impression of the unique shrine.
I must, however, mention a few other places of interest. The Temple of the Earth, for instance, which is also very extensive, has some very fine buildings, a delightful old sundial, and an emblematic well. In an open space there is a field of rice, the symbol of fertility, where the Emperor ploughs the first furrow of the year.
Of course, the two huge towers which look down upon us at a distance through all our wanderings should not be omitted either. One is the Tower of the Gong or Bell, and the other that of the Drum. They are, in fact, two belfries, for announcing all good or evil news to the citizens.
I would also recommend everybody to go where the two Gothic spires lift their graceful forms towards heaven, and to pass an afternoon at the Mission of Pei-tang, where they will meet with anexcellent reception and be offered sincere hospitality. They may still see traces of the Boxer vandalism, ruins and shells piled up in pyramids, a small cemetery where all the martyrs are buried—soldiers and priests, starving children and helpless women—and a small commemorative chapel. It will unquestionably please them to see that most of the ruins have been restored, and that the extensive orphanage houses several hundred children. Pei-tang is a centre, not only of faith but of work, and the children go through hard training schools before they are able to earn their daily bread. The boys as a rule become artisans or tradesmen, and those who show greater aptitude become silversmiths, or cloisonné makers. Those who like study can enter the adjoining grammar school or the seminary. Needlework is the main occupation of the little girls, who make beautiful lace and fine embroideries, and their products find an easy market in the European or Legation quarter.
Pei-tang is certainly worth visiting, and most edifying, and not only co-religionists will find satisfaction in all they see, but any one interested in history, art, education, charitable work, and civilization in general, will gather useful information and find valuable documents.
As for the evenings in Pekin, even the best guide-book will fail to give advice. At sunset everything is closed and everybody retires; thecity gates are barred, and traffic is stopped. Even the famous theatres are deserted, and the plays, which begin early in the morning, must finish at dusk. During the night Pekin is wrapped in silence and darkness. It is only in the European quarter that lights are to be perceived, and loud talk, hoarse laughter, or a hackneyed chorus, issues from a newly opened bar—sad recreation ground for the Allied Troops, giving the Chinese but a sorry example of the European idea of amusement.
Furnished with letters of introduction, which are more necessary in the East than passports, the traveller will have an opportunity of passing some charming evenings at the different legations, and in the houses of the resident diplomatists, officers, priests, and so forth, and they will be able to see how their compatriots live in exile and discuss the last events that have occurred in the West, and, by the blue smoke of a cigar, forecast the possibilities of the East.
VII
THE DOWAGER EMPRESS AND THE EMPEROR OF CHINA AT THE SUMMER PALACE
The glorious rays of the sun burst through it the eastern hills. From night to day is but a moment. There is no lingering dawn. The country is ablaze with colour, and yet the autumn is well advanced towards the so-called St. Martin's summer. In spite of the early hour, the streets of Pekin show unusual bustle. These endless thoroughfares, which on ordinary mornings are so gloomy and deserted, have awaked to life. At the doors of those quaint and attractive shops, full of the strange odds and ends that are of perennial interest to the wanderer in the East, and at the street corners, groups of people are talking vivaciously. Curious eyes are peeping from little windows, and everybody is evidently in expectation of some unusual sight. But what gives the most unfamiliar aspect to the scene is that there are street-sweepers here and there, more or less busy at their work, and a few policemen, in the most fanciful uniforms. It is the day of the Imperial reception of the diplomatic corps. Itis an innovation in the functions at the Court of the Dragon that the representatives of the Western nations should be annually received in state, a favour which has been granted since the Allies entered Pekin, one of the very few concessions, I am afraid, that have been granted.
The Court passes the autumn in the beautiful residence some sixteen miles from the city. We are compelled to travel all this way, and by any means we may find convenient, as there is no railway. Some are riding, some are carried in old-fashioned canopied palanquins. I see the conservative representative of Portugal carried by a magnificent team of stalwart Cantonese, with endless pigtails and rich harness—I ought to say livery. Germany, on the contrary, rattles over the most impracticable, neglected highway in a Tyrolean carriage, an object of great wonder and interest to the natives, as it is the first and only four-wheeler in the city.
It is a long journey, but not devoid of interest. We pass through a series of villages and hamlets, each of them teeming with busy life. I must say the energy and industry of the Chinese fill me with admiration. All along the road we meet people bearing signs of trade or commerce. Some are carrying huge baskets of fruit, of flowers, or grain. Others are laden with many kinds of goods. Many push wheelbarrows burdened with more than a European cart couldbear. Caravans of heavy Mongolian camels roped together travel to and fro in one never-ending, sinuous line. But the greater part of the traffic is absorbed by the Imperial household.
We must not forget that the Summer Palace is a town in itself, a city inhabited by thousands of mandarins, Court functionaries, attendants, servants, and labourers. The number, I believe, is estimated at ten thousand, and the daily expenses at something incalculable. The country all round is marvellously cultivated. It is interesting to watch the people at work in the fields, and see by what primitive methods they obtain such surprising results.
At last we arrive at the palace, and are met by such a crowd that it is with difficulty that any progress can be made at all. Most of the legations have sent out guards with tents, where the representatives can put on their full dress. We gather afterwards before the palace gates in a typical yamen, a choice specimen of Chinese domestic architecture, simple in conception, but elaborate in detail.
Prince Ching, Minister for Foreign Affairs, arrives; unquestionably a striking figure and an interesting personality. Slim, even fragile, his yellow skin covers the bones of his face like an old parchment, pale and wrinkled, and the brightness of his small, beady eyes makes a striking contrast. The introductions at oncebegin; but as Prince Ching does not speak either French or English, his secretary acts as interpreter.
If I remember correctly, this gentleman is a member of one of the numerous Li family; but what I specially recollect is his exquisite manner, exceptional refinement, and wide knowledge. He speaks perfect French, has travelled all over Europe, has stopped in our capitals for years, and taken a special interest in our scientific institutions. I confess to very much surprise when he began to testify his personal appreciation of my own national university of Buda Pesth. Perhaps it is the old-fashioned Chinese dress, mandarin hat, or pigtail, that causes Western people to feel astonished at finding among natives of the Yellow Empire sometimes a more thorough knowledge of the West and a deeper insight into our minds than we can realize.
The empty compliments have been exchanged—and empty indeed they are. At last an escort of palace guards and mandarins arrives, to lead us towards the inner palace gate.
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 shimmering 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 space 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, andmore 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 assembled the highest Viceroys and Princes of the Imperial blood.
But I have no leisure to observe the glory of the place—gold, jewels, and sunshine are too much together. I can only see a dark blue carpet that leads us to the steps of the central hall—or pagoda, 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; marvellousto 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 cloisonné 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 peacock'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 fashions, 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.
The Empress Dowager of ChinaTHE EMPRESS DOWAGER OF CHINAReproduced by kind permission of Mr Eveleigh Nash,from Miss K. A. Carl's volume"With the Empress Dowager of China"[To face page 184]
THE EMPRESS DOWAGER OF CHINAReproduced 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 thedoyenof 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 assumed 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 servedto 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 receivea 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 famishing legations and help the tortured Christians, the Empress and all her Court were fleeing through a devastated country in a lumbering wooden car. Themighty 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 pagoda, 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 pagodas built of china, were shown the marvellousorchard, planted with dwarf trees, the favourite resort of the Princess, and had tea served on the Marble Boat.
The Summer PalaceTHE 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]
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 aslegendary. 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.
The appearance of the whole country isaltered. Railways now intersect the quiet, dreamy countryside; buildings of architectural beauty, as well as humble cottages, are disappearing to make room for modern houses and factories. The charm of the scenery will inevitably vanish in face of the commercial and industrial progress. The world is moving on; it is necessary that it should, and change must follow the flight of time.
But I am glad that I am here today and not to-morrow; glad that I know Korea as it has been in the past. For who knows what future awaits her?
I shall never be able fully to describe my first impressions. Everything that meets my eye is new, that which surrounds me is unintelligible, almost mysterious. Korea and Tibet are the most isolated countries in Asia, and have, therefore, most completely preserved their ancient traditions and customs. It is only a quarter of a century since Korea first opened her gates to foreigners. Radical changes can hardly be expected to take place within a few years; the remodelling of a country and its people is the work of many generations.
II
Korea, as we see on the map, lies at the furthest eastern extremity of the Asiatic continent. It is a peninsula in the shape of an irregular oblong. Its frontiers on three sides are formed by the Japanese and the Yellow seas, and only on the north does a short strip of land divide it from Manchuria. Its area is eighty thousand square miles. The aspect of the country is of great variety, extremely mountainous, just here and there intersected by valleys. Some of the peaks are over seven thousand feet high; but what is more striking than their height is their formation. They are all very rich in mines, and the valleys are extremely fertile, and yet Korea has been, within the memory of man, one of the poorest countries of the world. The mines have never been worked, and the ground yields just enough for daily food. Various reasons for this have been assigned. The mines have not been worked because the Government feared that the gathering together of so many workmen at far-away districts would be favourable to revolutions. A crowd was considered a danger to the reigning family. And I have been told that the cause of the scanty cultivation of the fields is that it is not worth while to have much grain stored in the granaries, for in that case it would surely beconfiscated by the Government officials.
The larger rivers, like the Yalu and the Han, would afford excellent means of communication, but navigation is as yet practically unknown. The natural bays could easily afford harbour accommodation for all the fleets of the world, but, except the few open ports, they are only visited by some miserable native wooden junks, and a few Japanese or Chinese fishing-boats.
The climate is excellent; cold, of course, in the winter, but bright and dry; and the heat is never as oppressive in summer as it is in the same latitudes further inland. The natural advantages are plentiful in every respect: the rainfall is sufficient to secure the watering of the fields, the snow in winter protects the ground for several months, and there is bright sunshine in the summer to ripen the most beautiful fruit and grapes; but the refreshing sea-breezes prevent it from being too hot.
The Korean flora resembles, to a great extent, ours. The best-known flowers grow there. I could say the same of vegetables, such as cabbage, carrots, beans, peas, etc., which are all plentiful. The one exception is potatoes, which, though they were imported and flourished well in the soil, were forbidden to be grown on account of their being a foreign importation. Turnips, peas, and beans are most commonlygrown, and I have counted more than twenty-four varieties of beans, of different sizes, shapes, and colours, but having no taste at all, at any rate not when they are cooked in Korean fashion. Tobacco has been grown lately, and so have grapes; but the most valuable plant cultivated is thegin-sen, which is a Government monopoly, and is regarded as possessing the miraculous power of rejuvenating those who drink the liquor which is made of it. It is worth its weight in gold, and a little while ago the Emperor, fearing that thegin-sencrop was growing too plentiful and that its value would consequently decline, ordered that the surplus production should be conveyed to an island near Chemulpo and there burned. The closed boxes were carried in procession to the island, watched with great interest by the people, and were burned with great state. Nobody knew exactly what had been the victim of theauto-da-fé, but it is more than probable that thegin-sen, which is assumed to have met with such a sad fate, was devoted to some more profitable purpose.
Korean timber is of world-wide fame. The huge Korean forests are protected by law, and each individual Korean has certain rights to so much for building purposes, and so much for firing.
Pasture land is scarcely known, and the cultivable areas are nearly all converted into beanand rice fields.
The animal world is of great variety. Among domestic animals we find nearly all our old friends—such as the horse, a rather rough example but strong, oxen with magnificent frames, goats and pigs in great numbers. There are very few cows, as the Koreans are not great meat-eaters, and do not know how to milk, and, consequently, never use milk or butter. Sheep are prohibited by law, as only the Emperor may possess them for sacrificial purposes. Wild animals are very plentiful. The most dreaded are, of course, the tiger and the bear. There are also wolves, jackals, and wild boars. Birds are present in the greatest abundance. Pheasants, partridges, and quails are so plentiful, even today, that, travelling through the country, one may buy a brace for a few pence.
But the real wealth of Korea consists in its minerals. The different mountain ranges are rich in the most valuable metals: coal, copper, lead, silver, and gold are found in abundance. To this subject further allusion is made later on.
As a race the Koreans were for many years thought to belong to the same family as the Chinese, but it is now considered that they belong to another stock of the great Mongolian race. Its origin is today sought, not so much in the Altai, as on the slopes of the Himalayas. There is a difference of opinion as to the routeof their migration. One theory has it that they reached their present home by way of Siberia and Manchuria; another that they travelled through Southern Asia, and partly by sea, from the cradle of mankind.
With regard to their physical characteristics, the Koreans are tall, well built, and fair complexioned, with a scanty beard. They are not quite so tall as the Chinese of the north, but far better proportioned, and generally quite a head taller than their Japanese neighbours. The women are very hard workers, and their strength is exceptional. The children are regular pictures of health.
Whoever desires to form an idea of the moral characteristics of this race must penetrate to their homes and watch their daily life. Their mental and spiritual qualities can best be perceived by daily intercourse. The attempt to enter thus will not be easy, and seldom pleasant, but it will never fail to be of great and permanent interest.
The daily round of the Koreans is yet as primitive and archaic as it was centuries ago, and time seems to have left little mark on their customs and habits.
III
What are the most extraordinary things in this Hermit Country? is the question which has been frequently addressed to me since my return. The answer would be much easier to give if the question were, What are the least striking? Everything equally astonishes a stranger—country, people, customs, and daily life; every detail is characteristic, and every feature—visible and invisible—affords immense scope for observation. For the student of psychology Korea is a country full of interest.
To form some idea of the present condition of Korea it is absolutely necessary to know something of her past; to understand the character of her people one must be familiar with the conditions of life in centuries gone by.
Korea's historical origin, like that of most Asiatic countries, is shrouded in darkness. Her earliest records are legends and stories rather than serious history. Kings and gods, heroes and monsters, figure in a chaotic epic, which has preserved a few of the principal events for posterity.
The founder of the nation is supposed to be Ki-Tsze, a Chinese noble, who, with his soldiers and followers, settled on the peninsula in 1122B.C.But it is difficult to say how much of this is true, for the Koreans come, not from a Chinese, but from a really different Tartar stock,and consequently Ki-Tsze could only have been a later conqueror. The reason why subsequent chroniclers attributed the settlement of Korea to him was probably to glorify China. A stringent law forbidding the writing of history makes it very difficult to collect any authentic facts about the past of Korea. That a record of the principal events still survives is due to a remarkable custom.
Some of the Court officials kept diaries in which they recorded everything of any importance that took place. Each related what seemed to him of interest, sealing up the rolls with great secrecy. Four copies of these records were kept in iron chests at the four different seats of government. There the documents were to remain until the then reigning family became extinct, and not until the last representative of the dynasty had departed this life might they be published.
In the absence of national historical literature foreign conquerors—Chinese and Japanese—have issued a number of books on Korea, more particularly in reference to their own conquests. It would, however, be difficult to ascertain how far these works are to be trusted.
Only one popular Korean history is in existence, which, however, is more of an illustrated nursery tale than anything else. The diaries kept by some of the noble families are more interesting,wherein they have recorded in unbroken series the events of each day, year by year.
The first reliable information we possess dates from the early centuries of our era. It is an established fact that Korea was then divided into three kingdoms—Sin-La in the south, Kao-Li in the north, and Pet-Si in the west. These early centuries witnessed constant civil wars, in which sometimes one and sometimes another of the kingdoms was victorious; but the greatest advantages were won by Sin-La in the south. In a good many cases these successes were due to outside aid. Kao-Li and Pet-Si became more than once vassals of China or Japan.
The three kingdoms were united in the eleventh century. Sin-La lost its supremacy and, with Pet-Si, was annexed to Kao-Li. The king of this country was assisted by China in his expedition to the north, and in return the Mongol emperor was made the overlord of Korea. The united kingdoms were then ruled for three centuries by the Kao-Li dynasty, but their power ceased with the expulsion of the Mongol rulers from Pekin.
The emperors of the Ming dynasty, who became masters of China in the fourteenth century, also conquered Korea in 1392, re-establishing the ancestors of the present Emperor in place of the house of Kao-Li. Tao-Tso, the first king, transferred his capital from Kai-Teng toHang-Jang, the present Seoul, recognizing the suzerainty of China as a protection. He adopted the Chinese calendar and sent envoys to China to pay homage every year.
Subsequent events of Korean history can be explained in the light of these facts. With the Tsi-Tsien dynasty she became the openly acknowledged vassal of China. The sending of envoys to do homage, the presentation of previously settled gifts, and also the adoption of the Chinese calendar afford proofs of this.
The succeeding kings managed the affairs of the country successfully, and Tormer-To in the thirteenth century annexed several Japanese islands, but this burst of glory soon died out.
With the fall of the Mings the history of Korea reached its nadir. The conquering house of Mand-Su inundated with its troops the whole country and broke into Seoul, rendering even stricter the obligations of the tributary. The Chinese calendar became official from this time, and the Celestial Son was not only sovereign, but also managed absolutely all the private and public affairs of the king of Korea.
A good number of imperial rescripts referring to family quarrels has, to this day, been preserved, and throws an interesting light on the dissipated life of the Court of that remote period.
Korean kings stood repeatedly like criminals before their judge, and carried out the emperor'ssentence to the letter. But they went further than this, even to asking the Chinese emperor for counsel in reference to petty domestic troubles, divorce cases, etc.
As a rule the sentence was light. The former Mongolian despots lost their crowns partly through over-severity. The Mings, on the contrary, were clever diplomatists, and by their tact retained Korea's goodwill.
It is therefore not to be wondered at that their memory is still held in esteem, and the administration of the country, its customs and laws, to this day represent the Ming spirit.
China's present Manchu dynasty has never been popular, although it did not attempt to perpetuate, literally, the strict conditions of its first conquest.
Since the middle of the seventeenth century Korea has never been at war with any foreign power; but though no attacks have come from without, intestine troubles have been even more marked and destructive.
The example was set by the royal family. In the absence of male issue, the relatives split into two parties, who, under the names ofPiek-PaiandSi-Pai, have been rivals for years. Bloodshed and murder followed each other; dagger and poison were hidden under each cloak at the Court. These two factions are still in existence. The followers of Piek are for fightingand progress; the Si party, on the contrary, represent rather conservative views.
The example of the Court and of the chief officials was followed by the nobility. The principal persons of the country formed themselves into four parties. We can trace back the origin of the strife to the sixteenth century; its cause was the possession of an office. Two of the most powerful tribes claimed it, and their personal contention soon assumed the form of a general principle. Each party had its supporters until the whole country fell a victim to party strife—as was the case with the clans of the Montagus and Capulets, or between the houses of York and Lancaster of old.
After considering these premises it will be easier to understand Korea's present political situation.
We have seen that for many centuries the country was under foreign rule, governed now by China, now by Japan; generally by China, who more often than not was a very mild and lenient mistress.
Although she gave Korea a free hand in her government, she retained the exclusive control of foreign affairs; and, correctly speaking, she did not manage them at all. But no matter who the ruler was, Japan or China, their sole object was always to isolate the country as much as possible from the outer world, to surround herwith a visible or invisible wall—in the same way as their own flowery lands. This is one of the principal causes why Korea has been utterly secluded for centuries.
But here is another cause. The people, not being able to defend their country against invaders, were anxious that it should remain as unknown as possible. They went even further than that, and hid the natural treasures from their own citizens.
IV
The ancient government of their kingdom was, as in most Oriental countries, extremely complicated. The system undoubtedly shows knowledge of considerable statesmanship, China being the model. The mistakes and shortcomings lay in the execution and administration.
The absolute master and owner of the country was the king, who had by his side three ministers of the first, and six of the second rank. Each minister was assisted by one secretary of state and one councillor. The cabinet was called Tai-Sin, forming the Council of State. The power of the council was only nominal, and was invested in the three ministers of first rank, or, rather, in the premier, whose office was for life. Is it to be wondered at that every meanswas employed to attain it?
It is worth noticing that the bearers of the title were not necessarily in power. They succeeded each other, some of them having only honorary rank.
The country was divided into eight governorships. Each governor, with powers similar to those of a Chinese viceroy, had under him vice-governors, county judges, public notaries, collectors of taxes, etc. Considering that the eight governorships were divided into 332 provinces, the administration naturally was extensive, requiring a complicated administration.
The organization of the army was likewise well developed—on paper at any rate—the generals being distributed according to the provinces. Each governorship had its separate army corps, forts, arsenals, and stores recorded with precision. The national defence nominally numbered not less thanone million two hundred thousand men, although not one-hundredth part of those had ever seen a rifle. All this looked very imposing in the documents placed before the king. The same applied to the forts, arsenals, and stores. The forts were in ruins, the arsenals empty, and as for the stores, they did not exist. At any rate, this was the condition of the army when the first European troops entered the country. There is probably not another land in the East—and this means a good deal—wherethe government was more corrupt than in Korea.
The principal offices were sold at fixed prices. To obtain one was simply a financial transaction. Of course, directly the mandarin took up his position he was anxious to recoup his expenses. Under some pretext he confiscated the property of well-to-do citizens and extorted money from the people. This system had another disadvantage—the tenure of office was of short duration, lasting altogether a few years. The holder had, therefore, to be very economical with time. The mandarins generally remained two or three years only at one place, in order not to make themselves "at home." But the principal reason for such continual changes must have been that it was considered desirable at headquarters to sell the office to a new purchaser. So the succession went on, and one official after another devoted his energy to confiscation and robbery.
Is it to be wondered at that the people were reduced to poverty? But even those who were possessed of property lived the life of beggars, as otherwise the mandarins would have confiscated it under various pretexts.
Such was the administration of Korea for centuries. This was the condition of public life. Both action and thought were tainted. This corruption of officialdom not only drovepeople to beggary, but also poisoned the public morals.
The people were no longer capable of governing; they could only suffer patiently.
If government and administration were in such a lamentable condition, justice was even more contemptible. Bribery, perjury, and treachery were of daily occurrence. Envy and greed demanded and secured their victims. To be possessed of property was sufficient cause for being denounced and for confiscating the belongings of the owner, and the victim was very grateful indeed if his life was spared. The administration of justice in Korea was originally patriarchal. Any dispute between two parties was submitted to theeldersof the village. The local council was the court of first instance. In case of non-agreement the mandarin was appealed to. The governor had to decide complicated cases. The supreme court was the minister of justice himself, and the final appeal lay to the king, who, here likewise, had absolute power in rendering justice. He condemned or pardoned at his pleasure.
Tradition has preserved some of the quaint ways employed to obtain the king's good graces or attention. As it was an impossibility to get into the palace of the king, and he never quitted it, a large drum was placed before the gate, and the applicant used to beat this drum in order toattract the royal attention.
Another way was to light a bonfire upon the top of the surrounding hills in the hope of the king perceiving it and dispatching one of his messengers to the spot, by whom the petitioner could send his papers to his majesty.
Criminal cases were heard before the military authorities.
Here also the system was very much the same, and the procedure was equally defective. The way cases were tried was not only one-sided, but shockingly unjust. The saddest part of judicial administration was the way of obtaining the accused person's confession. Torturing is, even now, the prevailing practice, and in this, as in many other things, Korea has entirely followed China's example.
Considering the various kinds of torture, their inventive powers seem to have been inexhaustible. The most cruel torture, like the crushing of the knees or the use of red-hot irons, was prohibited long ago, and the new law ordered them to be entirely abolished; but I am afraid some of the methods of obtaining the desired evidences are still terrible.
Those who have seen the notorious dungeons ofCantonwill find the Korean prisons similar to them. Generally the courtyards of the magistrates are used for guarding the convicts. Stables are crammed with prisoners—mostlyinnocent. Furniture is a thing unknown, and so are all means of cleanliness.
In the Yamen of Judicature at Seoul I saw a few small private cells reserved for the better class. The inmate of one of these was a venerable-looking white-haired gentleman. He was, so the prison warder informed me, one of the wealthiest bankers in the town. "He squeezed," as he put it, "and now the mandarin is squeezing him."
Attorneys-at-law and jurists were not wanting, but in most cases the number of witnesses and their evidence was decisive—there being always any number of them at hand. In fact, giving evidence meant a living to a portion of the community, who favoured those who paid best.
The methods of punishment also varied. In most cases fines were imposed, which formed one of the principal sources of revenue to the authorities. Imprisonment was rarer. In order to save the expenses of keeping prisoners who could not pay a fine, these were often given a chance to escape, or disappeared by some other means.
Capital crimes were tried by a criminal court. Decapitation was carried out in various ways according to social position.Lèse-majestéand treason were likewise dealt with by special authorities. In this respect severity knew nobounds. With the guilty person all the members of his family had to suffer. More than once whole clans, which were suspected of being traitors or rebels, were extirpated. Hundreds of persons perished through being falsely accused of crimes.
Such was the judicature in days gone by, and no wonder that the people lost faith in judges whose sense of justice was of the lowest standard. Things seem to be improving, but a less cruel death implies cruelty all the same.
V
How did Korea educate her sons that her rule, her justice, and her people sank so low? is a question that involuntarily suggests itself.
We must at once point out that there existed no such thing aspublic education; as regardspublic instruction, Korea entirely followed the Chinese system. As in the Yellow Empire, it was only the successful passing of the various university examinations that qualified for public positions and Government offices. Here also training was purely classical. But while in China the national masters—Confucius and Menzius—were studied, Korea, without any regard for her history or literature, adopted the ready material in an unaltered form. Her own authorsthus found no field for their labours, and even if endowed with talent they were unable to develop it. This condition was in many respects similar to that prevalent in Europe in the Middle Ages, when colleges paid more attention to Greek and Latin than to their national language, and when students knew more about the history of Hellas and Rome than of their own country.
The Chinese system of examination is so well known that it does not require any explanation. Prior to the final examination the students gather in Pekin. There they are walled in in small cells at the examination hall, entirely isolated from the outer world.
Korean youths proceeded to Seoul. From the remotest parts of the country they came, and it was there decided whether they were qualified for office or not.
The Chinese system is perfectly democratic in its ground principles, granting the same right to every student and considering only his knowledge. In Korea, where, quite differently from China, there is an aristocracy of birth, only the sons of this privileged class competed for the principal offices. But in this instance too, as in most other things that affected public life, corruption manifested itself. Those who paid the highest examination fees won the highest offices.
The Korean is probably one of the Tartarlanguages, although its grammar shows many analogies with that of the Dravidian tongues of Southern India. It is mostly spoken by the common people, whilst the court, nobles, and mandarins employ Chinese. As a matter of fact, the latter is the official language of the country, and the records and proclamations of the King, the edicts of the mandarins, and the judgments of the courts are all in Chinese. No doubt Korea's long vassalage to China accounts for this; but the Chinese, as spoken in Korea, is almost a dialect, and could scarcely be understood by the Celestials, who, as is well known, are themselves often at a loss to understand each other. For Chinese differs even more in different provinces than some of the Latin languages, like, for instance, Spanish from Italian.