ASSEMBLY OF THE GREAT PRINCES OF THE EMPIRE.
The audience-chamber of the Emperor was a vast square hall of great
height. The ceiling was of pale green, sculptured in devices, and
decorated with paintings, charged at intervals with the Emperor's crest
in gold. The walls were smooth and without other ornament than the
carved window frame, which was set with panes of richly painted paper.
The roof was supported by rows of columns, elaborately sculptured and
japanned, which rested upon a pavement of the rarest veined marble, of
so high a polish that it reflected the whole interior.
In the centre stood a lofty alcove, above which, upon a drapery of
yellow silk, were embossed in pale blue enamel the words "Ching Hoang,"
(Holy Emperor). Beneath, upon a dais, ascended by a flight of broad
steps was a throne of frosted gold, surmounted and upheld by dragons of
the same metal, but burnished, and whose claws rested upon a carpet of
blue velvet, besprinkled with the same monsters in silver.
Opposite the throne upon a raised platform, were placed several vessels
of the precious metals, filled with incense, which, as it burned, sent
forth a delicious perfume, and candlesticks ingeniously wrought into the
shape of animals.
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.