Always it was the same, desolation and dirt and ruin, and the young man who was showing us everything made as if he wished to impress upon us that it did not matter. He belonged to the modern world, and these were past and gone. But when we admired and were charmed and delighted I saw that he, too, was pleased.
There were the Emperor's rooms opening into a courtyard close to the gate, there were his great audience halls down among a grove of firs, where probably he received Lord Macartney. Highly scented white single peonies made fragrant the grass-grown courtyards, where great bronze gongs are the remnants of a past magnificence, and the rooms are many of them empty, for all they are so carefully sealed. There were more rooms for the Emperor on an island in the lily-covered lake; and reached by bridges that are taken up in June and July and boats substituted, and farthest away of all, at the very end of the lake, were the rooms of the Empress.
“Happiness Hall” the Emperor Kwang Hsi wrote on it with his own hands, or so our guide told us, and there to this day the golden characters remain. Did they speak the truth, I wonder. At that particular period, I believe, the Empress counted for a great deal more than the Emperor, so possibly at least the envious Emperor felt he was speaking the truth; but, as a rule, it is difficult to think that the woman who shared the Dragon Throne could have been happy. It is difficult to believe that any woman in China can be happy, she counts for so little even now.
The courtyards were like all the other courtyards, with great gongs of Ningpo work and bronze vases, and shaded by picturesque pine-trees, only here was an innovation. In a sheltered corner, hidden away from the sight of all, by high walls and green shrubs, was the bathing-place of the Court ladies, and on the other side their theatre.
The Emperor had a theatre not far from the gate of the pleasure-grounds, a great place all falling into decay, and here they had a play for the entertainment of their guests, when the first British Ambassador came here, and it is evident that the women were allowed to be present, even though they were behind a screen, for Sir George Staunton relates that the only foreigner, seen by these secluded women, was George Staunton aged thirteen, the page to the Embassy, who was led on to a platform by a eunuch, so that the wives and concubines of the Emperor might see what a barbarian from the islands of the far Western sea looked like.
But here, close to her rooms, and by her bathing-place, the Empress had her own private theatre, and I wondered what manner of play could interest such secluded ladies, such narrow lives.
Wonderful to relate both the theatre and the roof of the rooms showed signs of having been recently done up. The rumour ran that after the Revolution in February 1912, the Court thought of retiring here, and these recent repairs in a place that has been untouched for years give colour to the rumour. We asked our guide as we sat at afternoon tea on the veranda looking out at the sunlight coming through the fir-trees that make the approach to “Happiness Hall,” but he shook his head. He knew nothing about it. He was a most circumspect young man and never did know anything, he felt perhaps it was wisest not.
Oh but it was sad the waste here. All these dwelling-places dotted about in the valley, on hillside, hidden away in groves of trees, are of one story, they are summer palaces, but the rooms are well-proportioned, and with their wide verandas and their lattice-work walls down to the ground, must have been delightful to live in, and they were furnished as an Emperor's palace should be furnished. There were chairs unlike the usual Chinese chairs, comfortable chairs of red lacquer and blackwood, and they were inlaid with cloisonne work, with carved jade, with delightful patterns in mother-of-pearl, there were stools, there were tables, there were low k'ang tables of lacquer, and all were perished with the sun and the wind; of not one piece has any care been taken. Some of the rooms were empty, some were full of packing-cases hiding I know not what treasures; judging by those perishing chairs and tables that were left out, I should imagine something worth possessing. Can it be only fifty years since an Emperor came here, it might be two hundred judging by the state of decay everything was in, and yet, when all was said and done, this place struck me as being the most magnificent pleasure-ground, the most beautifully situated, the most beautifully planned, that I have ever seen, worth, and more than worth, the arduous journey through the mountains that I had taken to see it.
It is supposed to be cut off from the people, and it is I suppose, judging by the joy the mission servants expressed at getting a chance to see it.