But I had no time to study it in detail, for the Mandarin stood there in the centre, surrounded by his court. He was in a robe of dark blue silk, magnificently embroidered, and his suite was no less gorgeously attired. When I appeared upon the threshold of the vestibule we exchanged profound bows, and repeated this salutation until we met half way. Then we shook hands in Western fashion, no easy task, considering that my host's finger-nails were at least two inches long. The customary introductions over, he led the way to his private apartments.
The first room was entirely Chinese, and contained some exquisitely carved armchairs. The effect of the second room was spoiled by two easy chairs of Vienna manufacture, a hideous French clock, and a tablecloth, probably of Manchester make.
The preliminary compliments once exchanged—a formidable business here—His Excellency asked me some dozen questions which in the West would be considered most indiscreet, but are obligatory in the East. Then he conducted me to the dining-hall, where luncheon was set on a round table profusely decorated with flowers and sweetmeats.
Innumerable little dishes were scattered over the silk tablecloth, and saucers filled with raisins, grapes, almonds, olives, and a variety of dainties. Etiquette prescribes that the guest shall be placed on the left of his host, and that the first mouthful of food shall be put on to his plate by the host himself. After that the servants bring in dishes containing the most delicate productions of the Chinese culinary art. Fish soup and snail soup, sharks' fins in unpalatable jellies, all kinds of minces and hashes, and patties with sauces most unpleasant to Western taste, composed the menu.
Custom, which regulates all public and social functions in this country, demands that no less than fifty different dishes be presented to a guest of distinction. All these concoctions are handed round on large trays, in series of eight at a time. They look different, but all taste alike, at least so it seemed to me. They are both sweet and sour, and whether they go by the name of minced birds'-nests, or croquettes of dog-flesh, I could detect no difference in taste. The other guests, however, fully made up for my want of appreciation.
As the meal proceeded, the conversation became more animated. When the subjects dictated by ceremony had been disposed of, the company expressed much interest in my researches and studies. My host questioned me on many points. He was decidedly clever, and although one was apt to forget the solemnity of the occasion on looking at his somewhat ridiculous costume and hat, formed in the shape of a pagoda surmounted by a precious stone the size of a potato, and adorned with waving peacock's feathers—in which attire even the wisest man would look a fool—I could not help being impressed by his sagacity.
He was somewhat reserved, but seemed pleased to talk about his country, and gave me some valuable information when he saw how much interested I was in the ancient history of the land, and the origin of its inhabitants. For they, thousands of years ago, had proceeded from the same stock as the people of my own race, who had founded the kingdom in Pannonia. The foundation of the Manchu empire is connected even more closely than I thought with the migration of the Huns. It would, indeed, open a vast field of study for the historian to seek the connecting link and the affinity existing between the first Magyars and Manchus.
The repast over, the Governor proposed a visit to the imperial tombs, the chief sight of the country. Indeed, there is nothing the people venerate more deeply than those monuments of the defunct members of their dynasty; they are the pride of the nation.
We started without much delay. It was a glorious afternoon, and in the brightness of the autumn sun the country looked its best. Our cavalcade galloped across pasture land, where horses and cattle peaceably grazed together. Here and there a shepherd sought diversion in the consoling melody of some old song, like all human beings whose lives are spent in solitude, and in the contemplation of the immensity of nature. The music was simple and the instrument simpler still, an archaic flute cut out of a reed.
Skirting the far end of the pasture was a dark brushwood; my companions told me that this was the sacred grove containing the imperial tombs. The distance to the town might be about six or seven miles, but our little horses carried us quickly over the ground. The Manchu dignitaries, in their flowing silken robes, their pagoda-like hats, their embroideries and long pigtails, looked unquestionably most picturesque. My mount and my saddle were similar to theirs, pretty, but at the same time I must say that I never rode on anything more uncomfortable than a Chinese saddle of embossed wood, with stirrups in the shape of slippers, and fixed so high that knees and chin nearly meet.