From the throne to the end of the wall, ranged so as to form an alley, stood the great officers of state, attired in large flowing robes of silk, flounced with gold, and bearing on their breasts the insignia of their different dignities; those belonging to the military department wearing golden buttons on their caps and tigers or lions on their breasts, while the civil officers, who were of higher rank, wore birds in place of beasts. At the back of these mandarins were other officers, bearing umbrellas of silk brocade, fringed with gold; there were also many who wore the button of an inferior rank, and who wore large fans of silk, embroidered with gold; others with large standards, sprinkled with golden stars, dragons, the sun, and the moon in all its quarters, to represent the twenty-eight mansions of the heavens, and their conjunctions and oppositions with the sun, as they appear in the intersections of the circles, which the astronomers call the dragon's head and tail. Near the walls stood a number of mandarins of inferior rank, both civil and military, bearing maces, axes, hammers, and swords. Upon the steps of the throne stood the princes of the blood, attired in the costumes of their civil or military rank, the only tokens of their imperial blood, being the large yellow or red girdle, and the circle instead of the square in which the bird or beast is worn upon the breast.
The left hand being the place of honor in China, on that side of the throne stood the imperial but unfortunate Prince, Yong-Li, a youth of fifteen years of age, near to whom stood the aged Woo, whose office, that of a colao or censor, was at once the most dangerous and most popular in the empire, his duty being to check the great mandarins, and even the Emperor himself, in the wrong exercise of their authority. This officer may be termed the representative of that public opinion in China which moulds its irresponsible despotism somewhat to the shape of a constitutional government. One step lower, in the full costume of tsong-tou (a great viceroy), stood the Prince Woo-san-Kwei. This prince was the son of the censor Woo, and one of the most remarkable men of his time. He was tall and stately, and, like the rest of the nobles of the Ming dynasty, wore his hair in long and luxuriant tresses; moreover, like his parent Woo, he wore the circle upon his breast, and around his waist the girdle of red, which betokened him to be of the second rank of the princes of the blood. Upon the opposite side of the throne, and one step nearer, as became his closer relationship to the monarch, stood the first prince of the yellow girdle, Li-Kong, a man whose influence upon those tempestuous times was as remarkable for bad as that of Woo-san-Kwei was for good; he was also a tang-tou.
Next this prince, in their robes of office, stood the colaos, or ministers of state, and with them an officer whose bird-embroidered robe and cap betokened him a mandarin of letters of the highest rank in the great college of Han-Lin. This officer was tutor to the heir to the throne, but in addition held an office so peculiar that I do not think you will accuse me of tediousness if I tell you something about it. He was the chief historian of the empire, an appointment which, if carried out with similar integrity, would be creditable to other empires besides China.
"These historians," says a writer who resided within the walls of the palace thirty years, "consist of a certain number of men, who, for their learning and impartiality are purposely chosen for this office. Their business is to observe narrowly not only the actions but the words of the Emperor, which, without communication with the others, each must write upon a loose piece of paper, and put it through a chink into an office set apart for the purpose.
"In these papers both the Emperor's virtues and faults are set down with the same liberty and impartiality. 'Such a day,' say they, 'the Emperor's behavior was unseasonable and intemperate; he spoke after a manner which became not his dignity. The punishment which he inflicted on such an officer was rather the effect of his passion than the result of his justice. In such an affair, he stopped the sword of justice, and abrogated the just sentence of the magistrate.' Or else, 'The Emperor entered courageously into a war for the defence of his people and for the maintenance of the honor of his empire; and, notwithstanding the commendations given him by his flatterers, he was not puffed up, but behaved himself modestly, his words were tempered with all the sweetness and humility possible, which made him more loved and admired by his court than ever.'
"Such is the way in which they record down all that occurs; but that neither fear on the one side, nor hope on the other, may bias men to give a partial record of the Emperor, the office wherein these papers are kept is never opened during the life of the sovereign, or while any of his family sit upon the throne. When, however, the imperial dignity passes into another family, all these loose memoirs are gathered together, compared, and a history composed, that either hands down the Emperor as an example to posterity, or exposes him to the censure and odium of the nation, if he has been negligent of his own duty and his people's good. Thus is it the interest of the Emperor to be circumspect, and cautious how he behaves himself during his reign."
With reference to the history of events and the progress of the people generally, it is the custom for each city to keep an exact record of every memorable event as it happens, its most remarkable places and inhabitants, good or bad; moreover, of their manners and customs; and although there are many who, by offering bribes to the governor, obtain honorable mention in these annals, upon the whole the accounts are considered to be tolerably accurate, for at the end of every forty years the mandarins of every city assemble and examine the accounts, and expunge what they deem unfit to remain recorded.
Theoretically, the will of the emperor is the only law; the lives, fortunes, and worldly happiness of his subjects depend upon its wildest caprice; but, in reality, it is only theoretically, for in the words of another great authority, who not only resided at the court of Pekin some thirty years, but absolutely held office therein. "One would imagine that this unlimited power of the Emperor would often occasion very unfortunate events in the government, and indeed it sometimes hath, as nothing in this world is without its alloy of inconvenience, yet so many are the provisions and so wise the precautions which the laws have prescribed to prevent them, that a prince must be wholly insensible of his own reputation and even interest, as well as the public good, who continues long in the abuse of his authority; for if he hath any regard for his own reputation, there are three things which will prevail with him to govern by justice, not passion: first, the old laws, given from the foundation of the empire, have laid it down as a standing maxim, that kings are properly the fathers of their people, and not masters placed upon the throne only to be served by slaves. The words in italics contain a doctrine, by the way, that our first James strived so hard to inculcate, that it ultimately led to a revolution in England, not very dissimilar to that in China, of which I am now writing. Such having been the teaching of those law-givers, Confucius and others, who are to the present day venerated as deities in China, the Emperor's proudest title of honor has been in all ages Ta-fou" (that is, grandfather).
This theory of what the Emperor should be, is so deeply imprinted in the minds of the people and the mandarins, that, when they offer praises, whether deserved or not, it is based upon his presumed affection for his people. The teachers and philosophers continually set forth in their books that the state is but a large family, and that he who knows how to govern the one is best capable of governing the other; so that, if the Emperor neglects, never so little, the practice of this maxim, he may be a great warrior, an able politician, a learned man, and yet meet with neither love nor esteem from his people. Indeed, they value him only as they believe he is, or is not, a father to them.
Thus, as I have shown you, not only the censor, but, in a lesser degree, every mandarin may tell the Emperor of his faults, provided it be in a manner agreeable to that veneration and profound respect which is due to his office. The manner, however, in which this is done, is somewhat roundabout. The mandarin who perceives any thing in the Emperor's conduct contrary to the maxims laid down in the sacred books, draws up a request, in which, after having set forth the respect which he bears toward his majesty, he most humbly prays that he will please to reflect upon the ancient laws and good examples of his great predecessors. This request lies upon a table among many other petitions, which are daily presented and which the Emperor is obliged to read; and if he does not change his conduct, the petition is repeated again and again till the end has been gained, or the mandarin himself punished for his presumption. The latter, however, never happens, except with bad and tyrannical Emperors.