CHAPTER XVI—A PLEASURE-GROUND OF THE MANCHUS
A return call—Ceremonies—A dog-robbing suit—Difficulties of conversation—A treat for the amah—The British Ambassador at Jehol in the eighteenth century—The last stages of decrepitude—Glories of the park—The bronze temple—A flippant young Chinese gentleman—“Ladies' Temple”—Desolation and dirt and ruin—“Happiness Hall”—Examining a barbarian.
The next day the secretary returned my call, bringing with him the General's card, and an apology for not coming himself. He was so very busy. I never expected him to come, and don't suppose he ever really intended to, but it was true Chinese politeness to put it that way.
Mr Wu had sent to say he was coming to call upon me, and it surprised me to see the commotion such a little thing occasioned in the mission house. I felt they were really being awfully good to my guest, but, without taking away one jot from their kindliness, I think, too, they were very glad to be brought into friendly relations with the yamen, and I was very glad indeed to think that I, who was in outer darkness from their point of view, was able to do this little thing for them. Cakes were made, the best tea got out, the table set, and the boy, who generally waited upon us humbler folk in a little short jacket and trousers caught in at the ankles, was put into the long coat, or petticoat, whichever you are pleased to call it, that a well-dressed Chinese servant always wears. It seems it is not the correct thing for him to wait upon one in a little short jacket. And then when all was ready, and the small great man was announced, to my surprise the other two women were hustled out of sight, and I and the missionary received him alone. Why, I do not know even now. I sat on a high chair, and so did Mr Wu, and the missionary gave us both tea and cakes, handing everything with both hands; that I believe is the correct Chinese way of doing honour to your guest. I received it as a matter of course, said “Thank you,” or “Please don't bother,” whichever occurred to me, but Mr Wu was loud in his protestations, in both Chinese and English, and I fancy the whole interview—unless I spoiled it—was conducted in a manner which reflected infinite credit upon the missionary's knowledge of Chinese customs and the secretary's best manners. They certainly were very elaborate. This day he had on what one of my naval brothers was wont to designate a dog-robbing suit, though I don't know that he ever went out dog-robbing, and I am quite sure the young Chinese gentleman never did, also his hair was neatly parted in the middle and plastered down on each side, and with a high collar and tie on, he looked really as uncomfortable and outré as it was possible to look. He had brought me the tickets, and implored me if I wanted anything else to ask for it. The interview was a trial to me. It is all very well to be prepared to smile, but smiles don't really fill up more than a minute or two, and what on earth to say during the rest of the time, troubled me. In all the wide world, and I felt it acutely, we had absolutely nothing in common save those tickets, and my heart sank when he told me he would do himself the honour of showing me over the palace himself. If I felt half an hour with him, for all my gratitude for his kindliness, an intolerable burden, what on earth should I feel the livelong day. One piece of news he did tell us, there had been fighting in Mongolia, severe fighting, and many men had been killed, but when we came to ask which side had won he said he did not know, and then of course we guessed the Chinese had suffered a reverse, for if the telegraph could tell any details at all, it was sure to have told the all-important one which side was the conqueror. At last, when it seemed that hour had been interminable, the young man rose, and the farewells began.
Those Chinese farewells! Chinese etiquette is enough to cure the most enthusiastic believer in form and ceremony, to reduce him to the belief that a simple statement of fact, a “Yea, yea,” and “Nay, nay,” are amply sufficient. I suppose all this form and ceremony, this useless form and ceremony, comes from the over-civilisation of China. If ever in the future I am inclined to cavil at abrupt modern manners, I shall think of that young man protesting that the missionary must not come to the gate with him, when all the while he knew he would have been deeply offended if he had not. I fear lest I may now swing over to the other side and say that a rude abruptness is a sign of life, so much better does it seem to me than the long elaborate and meaningless politeness that hampers one so much.
When he had gone we discussed the question of a visit to the Imperial Park, and then I found that there were many things in the way of my entertaining my hosts, prayer meetings, dispensary afternoons, visits, and that in any case, only the women would accompany me, whether that was really because the men were busy, or because it was not Chinese etiquette for men and women to amuse themselves together I do not know, but I strongly suspect the latter had something to do with it. For of course what the foreigners did, more especially the new foreign woman, who was not a missionary, was a matter of common talk in all the district round. Then my hostess put it to me, as I had plenty of tickets and to spare, would I take their amah. She was most anxious to go. She had been in service with a Manchu family, and once when they were going she had been ill, and once it had rained so that she had never gone, and she was getting an old woman and feared her chances were dwindling sadly.