I climbed down from the famous Coal Hill, thinking very little of the renowned view. I wondered merely when it was all going to end, and how normal conditions were going to come. I wandered, thinking in this manner, over the famous marble bridge, that delicate, delightful tracing of stone which so charmingly crosses an artificial lake thick with swaying lotus. I turned this way and that, not thinking very much where I was going; and presently, on my way back, walked past the Little Detached Palace, where, they say, the Emperor was imprisoned after the 1898 coup d'état. Here there was a curious sight, which brought back my wandering attention. French and English soldiers divided the honour of guarding this Palace entrance. Rival sentries stood only ten or fifteen feet away from one another and jealously watched to see that this prize was not secretly seized. The British regiment had the actual gates; it seemed that the French had posted themselves so close merely to watch. I passed these lines of sentries and wandered along, only to be accosted once more as soon as I was in a quiet alley. I soon found that this man and his mates were more cunning than those with whom I had had previously to deal and that some time must elapse before a bargain could be struck. They wasted time ascertaining who I was, and only hinted at good things—not the usual watches and rings, they said, but really things worth their weight in pure gold. Then one man tempted me deliberately with an abrupt movement which reminded me of the way the sellers of obscene playing-cards in Paris disclose to the unsuspecting stranger their wares. He drew from his tunic a little wooden box, opened it quickly, and laid bare a most exquisite Louis XV. gold belt-buckle, set in diamonds and rubies, and beautifully painted. I, who knew a little of Manchu history, understood that belt-buckle. It must have been one of the countless presents made during the early days of the Jesuits in Peking, when they almost controlled the destinies of the Empire. It was a priceless relic.
Of course I succumbed. Such things have an international value, and were not merely the sordid pickings from deserted private dwellings. Who would not rob a fleeing Emperor of his possessions?
After this we went into the English camp unostentatiously, and by some means men came forward from nowhere, and without greeting or superfluous words showed me what they had. The English are good traders; they never waste their words; and as I looked I thought of the anguish which the patrons of the Hôtel Drouot or Christie's would have felt could they have seen this marvellous collection. For these common men had made one of such taste and value that there could be no doubt where the things had been obtained. Every piece was good and a century or two old. There were enamels and miniatures which must have lain undisturbed for countless years watching the Manchu Emperors come and go. There were beautiful stones and snuff-boxes, and many other things. There might be none of the black pearls of General Monttauban, Comte de Palikao, that had delighted the Empress Eugénie half a century ago, but there were objets de vertu such as duchesses love.
In the end, I, too, became commercial and arranged that some men should come and find me that same evening, bringing as much as they could carry of the spoils they had amassed. They were to be paid in gold coin or in gold bars just as I pleased, weight for weight, and a quarter in my favour. That was soon settled. In the evening the men duly came, not the few I had supposed, but so many that they filled my courtyards, yet managing to remain curiously, silent. For them an important turning-point had been reached; they would make small fortunes if the thing went through successfully. With scales in front of me and gold alongside, we weighed and calculated unendingly—weight for weight, with that one quarter in my favour. It took two hours and more, for these common men were very careful, and everything had to be written down and recorded with strange marks and numbers, denoting the private division of profits which would afterwards follow. In the end everything was finished with and bought. Then the men stood up and shook themselves as if they had been bathed in a perspiration of anxiety, and the spokesman, a dark man with a quick tongue, which showed that he had not always been a soldier, thanked me curtly. When they had drunk, at my request, he explained to me how it was done. There was something dramatic in the way he described. It was so simple. I recorded what he said so as not to forget. "When it's dark" he said, in a low voice, with no introduction, "there's only the picquets. They have everything to themselves excepting that the Frenchies are just alongside. The Frenchies watch us close, but we watch them closer, and there's always a way. Rounds are not kept up the whole night, for everything is slack now, and when they are finished the fun begins. The reliefs, lying on the ground, strip off everything so that they can crawl like snakes and that no one can get hold of them. They crawl in through holes, over walls, with never a match or a light to show them how. In the end they get inside." The man laughed a little hoarsely, spat, and again went on.
"The palace they call the Little Detached Palace will soon be picked clean—clean as any dog's bone, with the Frenchies only fifteen feet off, and you'll get nothing more from there. Sometimes the Frenchies suspect and want to march right in on us, but our corporals are waiting, and are ready for them, and our bayonets stop them short. Twice it's happened that their officers march a guard right up to the gates of the Little Detached, and want to stay there all night with our fellows crawling about inside. They suspected. But we bluffed them away every time, and now that all the good things are gone we are carrying away the big ones—vases, small tables, carvings, jars, bowls—everything. We wrap them up in a bundle of great-coats and feed-bags in the morning, and carry them away; no one's ever the wiser. All round the Palace they are doing the same. The Yankees, the Russians, and all of them are in the same boat. All night they climb the walls to get the swag. Give them another six months and there will be nothing left."
Thus spoke the spokesman of the party. It was organised plundering, and everybody winked at it. After they had gone I sat long and reflected. This was the retribution and the vengeance. We were all tarred with the same brush; we were returning to primitive methods. Yet, what could be done—what steps could be taken? It was rather a hopeless tangle, and once more I gave it up.