It so happened that the very day this message went to Paris, Sir Harry Parkes's funeral took place. After a useful and eventful life he died, as every one knows, at the summit of his ambitions while he was British Minister in Peking. Just as the I.G. was going into the chapel for the service, one of the Legation Secretaries drew him aside to communicate a most important piece of news. A wire had come in only a few minutes before offering "the appointment of Her Britannic Majesty's Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary at Peking to Sir Robert Hart." To say the I.G. was surprised is not to say enough. The offer, coming as it did under such solemn circumstances, made an impression upon him too deep for words. Looking down at the coffin half hidden in flowers, he could not help feeling the vanity of earthly glories. "We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can take nothing out," said the voice of the preacher. The Envoy Extraordinary and the beggar travel towards the same goal, and one is scarcely more indispensable than the other. Any pride he might have had in the new dignity was most effectively taken out of him, and I think that never in his life did the I.G. feel a deeper humility than on this day when, invited to take the Legation, he stood the one black-coated coated figure amid a blaze of diplomatic uniforms.
[Illustration: THE INSPECTORATE STREET BEFORE 1900.]
In the evening Mr. O'Conor (afterwards Sir Nicholas), the First Secretary of the British Legation, came to dine with him and hear his answer—which was that for the present he could not take up the appointment as British Minister because of those Franco-Chinese negotiations. So well had the secret been kept this time that O'Conor had not the faintest idea anything important was going on; he heard the news with amazement. Might he telegraph it home to his Government? Yes, he might, provided he did not speak of the matter in Peking.
At the same time the I.G. begged that his appointment might not be gazetted just then, for possibly the French would not care to negotiate with a man about to become British Minister, and even if they made no formal objection, the fact could not fail to have considerable influence on Chinese affairs.
Accordingly the news was temporarily suppressed. But the I.G. afterwards had the personal satisfaction of hearing through a lady of the Court that when O'Conor's telegrams about the whole story were laid before Queen Victoria, she said, "I am very glad that we shall have for our next Minister in China the man who arranged such delicate negotiations as these."
By all the laws of climax the incident should close here; no writer would dream of dragging it out further, but unfortunately in real life there is little respect for climaxes, and that vexatious Treaty coquetted with her suitors once more. Really it was enough to make anybody lose patience altogether. When the ground was clear at the very last moment, how absurd that the Black Flags and the Chinese should win a big victory over the French at Langson and that, in consequence, there should have been an interpellation in the French Senate causing the Jules Ferry Ministry to resign suddenly and leaving the Treaty still unsigned.
The victory affected the Chinese no less seriously; in the twinkling of an eye they were split into two parties. The military side, elated with their success, was all for continuing the war ("Those we have beaten once we shall beat again," said they), and the wiser councils of the civil side only just carried the day, for, flushed as the soldiers were with victory, it was not easy to make them see that their success was but temporary, and the best, in fact the only thing, for China to do was to hurry on with the Treaty.
Then the endless telegraphing began again. The I.G., by the way, had spent Tls. 80,000 (over £10,000) on telegrams, a sum which, had the Treaty failed, would not have been repaid easily. But it was too late to stop now. Once more he wired instructions to his Secretary.
"You must face the jump. Go direct to the President and lay the matter before him." In those days, when he was manoeuvring for a big success, the I.G. sometimes risked much on the turn of a card.
Mr. Campbell went to President Grévy, and later to the Foreign Minister de Freycinet. Things, as they seemed most desperate, took a brighter turn; difficulties melted away, and at last, on the 4th of April, 1885, M. Billot, afterwards Ambassador at Rome, was appointed by the French Government to sign for France, and the Resident Secretary of course signed for the Chinese. Thus the work was really completed by those last basketfuls of earth, and the long months of anxiety and strain brought to a happy conclusion much to everybody's satisfaction.