The Chinese-Mesopotamian treaty was signed on the 2nd instant, and I must say that the Chinese come uncommonly well out of the affair. They had already concluded a treaty with Mesopotamia at Shanghai, and had received no notification that the King of that country had refused to ratify it, when all of a sudden a gentleman appeared this summer announcing himself as plenipotentiary sent by the King to conclude a treaty, nothing being said of the former one. The Chinese, after some discussion, named two plenipotentiaries, and offered M. T—— his choice of any existing treaty. He, however, said, “A quoi bon envoyer un négociateur s’il ne doit pas négocier,” and sat down to compose a treaty on the principle of an amateur opera, out of four others. However, as the history of the treaty would not amuse you, it is enough to say that the Mesopotamian showed himself to be plus Chinois que les Chinois, while the Chinese exhibited a pliability and a willingness to accept innovations which took us all by surprise. The treaty is an affair of very small consideration; there has occasionally been a Mesopotamian ship seen in the Chinese seas, and there is one Mesopotamian subject in China who was declared bankrupt during the negotiations. But the conduct of the Chinese, as showing a desire to amend in their foreign policy, is of the last importance to us. They have shown in these negotiations that they have read their translation of Wheaton’s International Law with profit, and they have departed from old precedents in a way which was enough to make the old conservatives’ tails stand on end.
The great difficulty with the Chinese has been their foreign policy. Their internal affairs would right themselves if they would accept our civilisation and our standard of official probity. But if they are to preserve their independence they must learn to keep faith with foreign nations and meet honesty with honesty.
Although in our recent dealings with the Chinese they have shown better faith and more loyalty than before, we have still many crows to pick with them. Breaches of treaty are endless. One of the articles upon which we insist the most is that which provides that a British subject offending against the Chinese law shall be handed over for punishment to the nearest consul. The Taeping rebellion has attracted to its ranks a vast number of rowdies, many of them deserters from the Imperialist army. If these men were caught and left to the mercy of the native authorities, it is fearful to think what their fate would be. We are at this moment trying to rescue one man from their clutches, and investigating the case of another whom they reported to have died a natural death while being taken to Shanghai; but as the report was not made until six weeks after his death, we suspect treachery. The central Government shows every disposition to help us, but governors of provinces are strong, and they know it. No stone, of course, will be left unturned to get back the living man (if indeed he be still alive), nor to exact retribution for the death of the other, if there should be proved to have been foul play. It is not yet all rose-colour, you see.
13th November.
We have no news yet of the mail of 10th September, which brings out our new chief, Sir Rutherford Alcock. I was to have gone to Tientsing to meet him, but I fancied the river journey would be rather cold; and I am very glad I did not go, as I should have been dangling about Tientsing all these days, not knowing what to do with myself. In the meanwhile we are busy preparing for his reception. I am already in my new house, which is rather pretty, with a great deal of Chinese carved woodwork, but eminently adapted for catching rheumatism. It will cost me something to make it wind-tight. I hope, however, by degrees to make it comfortable and cosy.
I am in a state of philological orphanage. My first teacher, Ku, left me to go into some small office—office, however small, being dear to every Chinaman; my second, a most charming person, was caught stealing a dollar off my table. The man was really such a pleasant companion and such a good master that I rather wished to ignore the whole thing; but my servant Chang-Hsi represented that if Hsü Hsien Shêng remained he could be responsible for nothing that was lost, and so I had to pack off poor Hsü. He was a perfectly inexhaustible fund of anecdotes, proverbs, folk-lore, and Chinese small talk, so different from the ordinary run of Chinese teachers, whose only idea of broaching a conversation is to ask some preposterous question about one’s “honourable country.” If he could but have kept his hands from picking and stealing!
LETTER XVII
Peking, 25th November 1865.
We are sending off a mail to-day in the hopes that it will yet be able to leave Tientsing for Shanghai before we are finally shut out by the frost from communication with the outer world. After this our posts will be rare and uncertain, going by land to Chihfu and thence on. The winter has well set in; we have had several sharp frosts, which, although they are child’s play to what I have seen in Russia, are aggravated by cutting winds which blow clouds of dust, pricking one’s face like flights of needles. Nothing can be more bare and desolate than this city, now that it is stripped of its leaves. Everything looks gray and black, and the Chinese houses have a poor, pinched appearance that to English eyes, accustomed to see a cheerful fire blazing in even the poorest cottages, is very shivery. The natives are already swaddled up in furs and wadding, and commend me to a cold Chinaman for looking wretched. Their yellow-brown faces get perfectly livid and corpse-like under the effect of the cold winds, a great contrast to the tanned and sturdy Mongols who are beginning to flock into the city. The life in the streets is changed too by the innumerable droves of Bactrian camels with double humps that are pouring in long streams of merchandise.
One great advantage of this time of year is in the improvement of our larder. In summer we are obliged to ring the changes on tough beef and stringy mutton; now we have plenty of game—hares, several sorts of pheasants, wild duck, teal, snipes, and other birds innumerable. Soon we shall have varieties of venison, amongst them that of an antelope of Mongolia which the Chinese call Hwang-Yang, “yellow sheep,” said to be the daintiest venison in the world. Of fruit we have plenty; there is a certain small apple-shaped pear, by far the best I ever tasted. Grapes we have every day in the year, so that nature does as much for us as Mr. S——’s gardener does for him. To be sure, the gardener beats nature hollow as to quality.