A distinguished lady, closely allied to the Empress, kindly gave me a sitting one morning; but as she was at the time exempted from attendance at Court on account of ill-health, she was unable to wear full dress—namely, the large Manchu coiffure—which is so heavy that the Empress decided to allow it to be replaced by large black satin bows. It is difficult to fasten the framework securely to the head, over which the hair is arranged, so the coiffure is usually made with false hair, and it is funny to see withered old hags in the streets wearing these, with a large flower stuck jauntily at the side. I found my sitter a very difficult one to paint, as she was heavily painted (in a different sense), and the square scarlet under-lip and absence of line in the upper eyelid gave a wooden expression to the whole face, which was unusually large, and surmounted by a perfect flower-bed. It would have been easier to express the dignity of her carriage had she been standing, but although she offered to do so, I felt it was impossible to take advantage of her good-nature when I knew she was ill. Her hands were slender and beautifully shaped, but she wore no rings; her feet were very small and shod in artistically embroidered Manchu shoes with white soles—nearly two inches thick (the Manchus never bind their feet). Unfortunately, the handsome heliotrope gown and short jacket were trimmed with European braid, and owing to the cold weather they were wadded, which lends a clumsy appearance to the whole figure. Her charming little black pug belongs to the celebrated palace breed.
It was not till after we had enjoyed tea and cakes that I was allowed to begin the portrait; and the prince came in to make our acquaintance, so that a good deal of time was taken up, and I was only able to make a hasty sketch, to be finished later on. Then the lady said we must certainly be hungry and insisted on our stopping to dinner, saying she herself was very hungry—how much more so must we be, who had worked while she did nothing. My friend protested that she had done nothing at all, being reduced to silence by her ignorance of the language, to which came the charming retort, “You will be fatigued, then, by your good intentions!” All our protests as to other engagements were overruled, and we sat down, at the other end of the room from where we had been sitting before, to a sumptuous repast, consisting of every kind of meat and vegetable, served in small pieces in innumerable little dishes. In the centre of the table there was a charming set of nine dishes, which are generally used for sweetmeats, but which our hostess had thought would be equally nice for meat—an innovation we thoroughly appreciated, as they looked so much prettier than separate ones. From these dishes we were continually helped to cold chicken, duck, sausage, pigeons, eggs, ham, and other less recognisable dainties. Round these were more dishes of hot vegetables, pickled meat and vegetable, rissoles, fried meat balls, stewed meat, cabbage and meat, &c., &c., from all of which our hostess continued to serve us with her own chopsticks, eating but little herself, according to the Chinese etiquette. We were given spoons and forks, as she shrewdly suspected our inability to wield chopsticks. Little bowls of rice were also handed round, and as soon as we stopped eating she did the same. Next came bowls of soup, each containing two eggs, and this concluded the solid part of the feast; as soon as we had retired to the other end of the room tea was brought, with preserved crab-apples, apple jam, and peanuts. Part of the dinner, we were told, was prepared by men and part by women cooks.
Before we took leave the children came in to be introduced. All the young people are learning English, and shook hands in English style—namely, with us, instead of with themselves. Many polite questions were asked as to our families, our clothes, and the price of the Viennese gown I was wearing, and my amethyst pendant. Silk is considered the only material for a handsome dress in China, and precious stones are practically unknown, jade being the only one worn.
Finally we made our adieux, accompanied to the outermost courtyard by our kind hostess; and the next day she sent me a fascinating assortment of Chinese paints, each done up separately in the neatest little parcel, containing either a bottle or a little box. We came away much impressed by the indescribable charm of Chinese manners, and many a time afterwards I felt how gauche we were in comparison. We drove away in our cart for politeness’ sake, but a short ride in it after such a feast would have had disastrous consequences, so we quickly transferred ourselves to rickshas as soon as we were out of sight of the palace.
It would be wearisome to the reader to describe all the interesting places we saw in Peking, but there is still one that I must mention—the Hall of the Classics. It is the centre of the great examination system of the past, and probably will never again have its old importance. Here the final examination took place of all the students, from every part of the vast Empire, who had succeeded in passing all other examinations. The Emperor himself presided, and received the homage of successful candidates, seated upon a handsome carved throne. Round the walls of the great court are tablets on which are inscribed the whole of the classics. The old examination system has been abolished, and already at Peking the very building where the provincial examinations were held has been destroyed.
Before leaving Peking our host introduced us to the friend whom he had found to act as our interpreter during our long journey from north-east to south-west of the Empire. Mr. Ku was a young man of official family, who had been trained at St. John’s College, Shanghai, and spoke English well. He was essentially a scholar, of gentle and amiable manners, honourable and guileless. During our five months together we never found him lacking in tact or discretion, and we were able without hesitation to place our affairs entirely in his hands. Fortunate is the traveller who likes his companions better at the end of such a journey than at the beginning!
BOXER
KACHIN WOMAN