homage before the Emperor, as he passed them on his way to a pagoda or
_Poo-ta-la_, a kind of temple or monastery, where a great number of
priests, clothed in yellow, lived together in a state of celibacy; and
here he made his burnt-offerings. The mystical rates performed, presents
were brought out for the Embassador and suite, and also for the _King_
of _Holland_, consisting of little purses, flimsey silks, and a coarse
stuff somewhat similar to that known by seamen under the name of
_bunting_; and, in token of gratitude for this mark of imperial
kindness, they were directed again to _bow down their heads to the
ground_.
On the 30th, it was announced to them that the Emperor intended to pay a
visit to his palace at _Yuen-min-yuen_, and that it would be necessary
for them to follow him thither; after having, as usual, paid their
respects in the Chinese manner by the road side as he passed.
On the 31st, they were conducted round the grounds of _Yuen-min-yuen_ by
several Mandarins, and received great satisfaction in viewing the vast
variety of buildings, and the good taste in which the gardens and
pleasure grounds were laid out, and which wore an agreeable aspect, even
in the depth of winter. In one of the buildings they saw the several
presents deposited, which had been carried the preceding year by the
Earl of Macartney. They were stowed away with no great care, among many
other articles, in all probability never more to see the light of day.
It seems the elegant carriages of Hatchett, that were finished with so
much care and objects of admiration even in London, were here carelessly
thrown behind one of their mean and clumsy carts, to which they
pretended to bestow a preference. Capricious as children, the toy once
played with must be thrown aside and changed for something new; or, in
this instance, it would not be out of character to suppose, that the two
vehicles had designedly been placed together to point out to Europeans
of how little estimation the Chinese considered their articles of
ostentation, when they could perform the same services by simpler and
less expensive means.
The Dutch Embassadors and their suite were now to have a specimen of the
court entertainments, and the polite amusements of this grand empire.
They consisted chiefly of the contortions of the human body, practiced
by posture-masters; of rope-dancing, and a sort of pantomimic
performance, the principal characters of which were men dressed in
skins, and going on all-fours, intended to represent wild beasts; and a
parcel of boys habited in the dresses of mandarins, who were to hunt
them. This extraordinary chace, and the music, and the rope-dancing, put
the Emperor into such good humour, that he rewarded the performers very
liberally. And the Empress and the ladies, who were in an upper part of
the house concealed behind a sort of venetian blinds, appeared from
their tittering noise to be highly entertained. The whole concluded,
though in the middle of the day, with a variety of fire-works; and the
Chinese part of the company departed seemingly well satisfied with these
diversions.
An eclipse of the moon happening on the fourth of February gave occasion
to the Embassadors to enjoy a little rest at home, though they were
summoned to attend the palace at a very early hour in the morning. The
Emperor and his mandarins were engaged the whole day in devoutly praying
the gods that the moon might not be eaten up by the great dragon that
was hovering about her. Recovered from their apprehensions, an
entertainment was given the following day, at which the Embassadors were
required to be present. After a number of juggling tricks and infantine
sports, a pantomime, intended to be an exhibition of the battle of the
dragon and the moon, was represented before the full court. In this
engagement two or three hundred priests, bearing lanterns suspended at
the ends of long sticks, performed a variety of evolutions, dancing and
capering about, sometimes over the plain, and then over chairs and
tables, affording to his Imperial Majesty and to his courtiers the
greatest pleasure and satisfaction.
On the fifteenth of February the Dutch Embassadors left Pekin, having
remained there thirty-six days, during which they were scarcely allowed
to have a single day's rest, but were obliged, at the most unseasonable
hours, in the depth of winter, when the thermometer was seldom higher
than 10 or 12 degrees below the freezing point, to dance attendance upon
the Emperor and the great officers of state, whenever they might think
fit to call upon them; and to submit to the degrading ceremony of
knocking the head nine times against the ground, at least on thirty
different occasions, and without having the satisfaction of gaining by
this unconditional compliance any one earthly thing, beyond a compliment
from the Emperor, _that they went through their prostrations to
admiration_! And they were finally obliged to leave the capital without
being once allowed to speak on any kind of business, or even asked a
single question as to the nature of their mission, which, indeed, the
Chinese were determined to take for granted was purely complimentary to
their great Emperor.
The manuscript I quote from describes minutely all the pantomimic
performances, the tricks of conjurors and jugglers, and the feats of
posture-masters, but as they seem to be pretty much of the same kind as
were exhibited before the British Embassy in Tartary, as described by
Lord Macartney, I forbear to relate them. Enough has been said to shew
the taste of the court in this respect, and the state of the drama in
China.
I suspect, however, that the amusements of the theatre have in some
degree degenerated at court since the time of the Tartar conquest.
Dancing, riding, wrestling, and posture-making, are more congenial to
the rude and unpolished Tartar than the airs and dialogue of a regular
drama, which is better suited to the genius and spirit of the
ceremonious and effeminate Chinese. I am led to this observation from
the very common custom among the Chinese officers of state of having
private theatres in their houses, in which, instead of the juggling
tricks above mentioned, they occasionally entertain their guests with
regular dramatic performances. In the course of our journey through the
country and at Canton, we were entertained with a number of exhibitions
of this kind; and as "the purpose of playing," as our immortal bard has
observed, "both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold as 'twere
the mirror up to nature," it may not be foreign to the present subject
to take a brief notice of such performances.
The subjects of the pieces exhibited are for the most part historical,
and relate generally to the transactions of remote periods, in which
cases the dresses are conformable to the ancient _costume_ of China.
There are others, however, that represent the Tartar conquest, but none
built on historical events subsequent to that period. But the ancient
drama is preferred by the critics. They have also comic pieces, in which
there is always a buffoon, whose grimaces and low jests, like those of
the buffoons in our own theatres, obtain from the audience the greatest
share of applause. The dialogue in all their dramas, whether serious or
comic, is conducted in a kind of monotonous recitative, sometimes
however rising or sinking a few tones, which are meant to be expressive
of passionate or querulous cadences. The speaker is interrupted at
intervals by shrill harsh music, generally of wind instruments, and the
pauses are invariably filled up with a loud crash, aided by the sonorous
and deafening gong, and sometimes by the kettle drum. An air or song
generally follows. Joy, grief, rage, despair, madness, are all attempted
to be expressed in song on the Chinese stage. I am not sure that a
vehement admirer of the Italian opera might not take umbrage at the
representation of a Chinese drama, as it appears to be something so very
like a burlesque on that fashionable species of dramatic entertainment;
nor is the Chinese stage wanting in those vocal warblers, the nature of
whom, as we are told by the ingenious and very entertaining Martin
Sherlock, a French lady explained to her little inquisitive daughter, by
informing her, that there was the same difference between them and men,
as between an ox and a bull. Such creatures are indeed more necessary to
the Chinese theatre, as the manners of the country prohibit women from
appearing in public.
The unity of action is so far preserved, that they have actually no
change of scene; but change of place must frequently be supposed. To
assist the imagination in this respect, their management is whimsical
enough. If it be necessary to send a general on a distant expedition, he
mounts a stick, takes two or three turns round the stage, brandishes a
little whip, and sings a song; when this is ended, he stops short, and
recommences his recitative, when the journey is supposed to be
performed. The want of scenery is sometimes supplied by a very
unclassical figure, which, just the reverse of the _prosopopoeia_ or
personification of grammarians, considers persons to represent things.
If, for instance, a walled city is to be stormed, a parcel of soldiers,
piling themselves on a heap across the stage, are supposed to represent
the wall over which the storming party is to scramble. This puts one in
mind of the shifts of Nick Bottom. "Some man or other must present
wall," and, "let him have some plaister, or some lome, or some
rough-cast about him to signify wall."
The audience is never left in doubt as to the character which is
produced before it. Like the ancient Greek drama and, in imitation
thereof, all our old plays, the _dramatis personæ_ introduce themselves
in appropriate speeches to the acquaintance of the spectators.
As to the time of action, a single drama will sometimes include the
transactions of a whole century, or even of a dynasty more than twice
the length of that period; which, among other absurdities, gave Voltaire
occasion to compare what he thought to be a literal translation of the
_Orphan of the House of Tchao_, "to those monstrous farces of
Shakespear, which have been called tragedies;" farces, however, which
will continue to be read by those who understand them, which _he_ did
not, with heartfelt emotion and delight, when his _Orphan of China_
shall have sunk into the neglect even of his own admiring countrymen.
In this miserable composition of _Father Prémare_, for it can scarcely
be called a translation, there is neither diction, nor sentiment, nor
character; it is a mere tissue of unnatural, or at least very improbable
events, fit only for the amusement of children, and not capable of
raising one single passion, but that of contempt for the taste of those
who could express an admiration of such a composition. The denouement of
the piece is materially assisted by means of a dog: but this part of the
story is told, and not exhibited; the Chinese taste not being quite so
depraved, in this instance, as to admit the performance of a four-footed
animal on the stage.
This drama, with ninety-nine others, published together in one work, are
considered as the classical stock-pieces of the Chinese stage; but like
ourselves, they complain that a depraved taste prevails for modern
productions very inferior to those of ancient date. It is certainly
true, that every sort of ribaldry and obscenity are encouraged on the
Chinese stage at the present day. A set of players of a superior kind
travel occasionally from Nankin to Canton; at the latter of which
cities, it seems, they meet with considerable encouragement from the
Hong merchants, and other wealthy inhabitants. At these exhibitions the
English are sometimes present. The subject and the conduct of one of
their stock pieces, which being a great favourite is frequently
repeated, are so remarkable, that I cannot forbear taking some notice of
it. A woman being tempted to murder her husband performs the act whilst
he is asleep, by striking a small hatchet into his forehead. He appears
on the stage with a large gash just above the eyes, out of which issues
a prodigious effusion of blood, reels about for some time, bemoaning
his lamentable fate in a song, till exhausted by loss of blood, he
falls, and dies. The woman is seized, brought before a magistrate, and
condemned to be flayed alive. The sentence is put in execution; and, in
the following act, she appears upon the stage not only naked, but
completely excoriated. The thin wrapper with which the creature (an
eunuch) is covered, who sustains the part, is stretched so tight about
the body, and so well painted, as to represent the disgusting object of
a human being deprived of its skin; and in this condition the character
sings or, more properly speaking, whines nearly half an hour on the
stage, to excite the compassion of three infernal or malignant spirits
who, like Æacus, Minos, and Rhadamanthus, sit in judgment on her future
destiny. I have been informed that it is scarcely possible to conceive a
more obscene, indelicate, and disgusting object, than this favourite
exhibition, which, if intended "to hold the mirror up to nature," it is
to nature in its most gross, rude, and uncivilized state, ill-agreeing
with the boasted morality, high polish, refined delicacy, and
ceremonious exterior of the Chinese nation; but it tends, among other
parts of their real conduct in life, to strengthen an observation I have
already made with regard to their filial piety, and which, with few
exceptions, may perhaps be extended to most of their civil and moral
institutions, "that they exist more in state maxims, than in the minds
of the people." As, however, a Chinese might be led to make similar
reflexions on the exhibition of Harlequin Skeleton, and those numerous
representations that of late years have crept upon our own stage, where
ghosts, hobgoblins, and bleeding statues are called in aid of the
_spectacle_, I should hesitate to draw any general conclusion, with
regard to their taste, from the particular exhibition of a woman flayed
alive, were they not in the constant practice of performing other pieces
that, in point of immorality and obscenity, are still infinitely worse;
so vulgarly indelicate and so filthy, that the European part of the
audience is sometimes compelled by disgust to leave the theatre. These
are such as will not bear description, nor do I know to what scenic
representations they can with propriety be compared, unless to those
gross indecencies of Theodora, which Procopius has described to have
been exhibited on the Roman stage, in the reign of Justinian[11]. The
people who encourage them must be sunk very deep in intellectual
grossness, and have totally lost sight of all decency. These and similar
scenes may be considered among the ill effects of excluding women from
their due share of influence in society.
[11] See _Gibbon_, under Emperor Justinian; and _Menagiana_, in which is
given the translation of a very extraordinary passage from _Procopius_.
It would be impossible to compliment the court of Pekin on the elegance
and refinement of its entertainments, but at the expence of truth and
reason. Those of Tartar origin will no more bear a comparison with the
noble contests of strength and agility displayed by the old hardy Romans
in the Circensian games, than the regular drama of the Chinese will
admit of being measured by the softer, but more refined and rational
amusements of a similar kind in Europe. It is true the scenic
representations in the decline of the Roman empire, as they are
described to us, appear to have been as rude and barbarous as those of
the Chinese. They began by exhibiting in their vast amphitheatre the
rare and wonderful productions of nature. Forests enlivened with
innumerable birds; caverns pouring forth lions, and tygers, and
panthers, and other beasts of prey; plains covered with the elephant,
the rhinosceros, the zebra, the ostrich, and other curious animals,
which the wilds of Africa furnished, were all brought together within
the circuit of the _arena_. Not satisfied with the rich productions of
the earth, the sea must also become tributary to their amusements. The
arena was convertible into a sheet of water; and, at length, the two
elements concluding a marriage, as on the Chinese theatre, produced a
race of monsters which, according to the Latin poet's[12] description,
might vie with those of China.
"Non solum nobus sylvestria cernere monstra
Contigit, æquoreos ego cum certantibus ursis
Spectavi vitulos, et equorum nomine dignum
Sed difforme genus."----
Where Sylvan monsters not alone appear,
But sea-cows struggle with the shaggy bear,
And horses of the deep, a shapeless race.----
[12] T. Calpurnius.
In short, the greater part of the amusements of the Chinese are, at the
present day, of a nature so very puerile, or so gross and vulgar, that
the tricks and the puppet-shews which are occasionally exhibited in a
common fair of one of the country towns of England, may be considered as
comparatively polished, interesting, and rational. In slight-of-hand, in
posture-making, rope-dancing, riding, and athletic exercises, they are
much inferior to Europeans; but in the variety of their fire-works they,
perhaps, may carry the palm against the whole world. In every other
respect the amusements of the capital of China appear to be of a low and
trifling nature, neither suited to the affected gravity of the
government nor to the generally supposed state of civilization among the
people.
The old Emperor, as he observed to Lord Macartney, seldom partook of
such amusements. Considering, indeed, all the circumstances connected
with the reign of the present dynasty on the throne, the government of
an empire of such vast magnitude, stored with an almost incalculable
population, must necessarily be a task of inconceivable vigilance and
toil; a task that must have required all the time, the talents, and the
attention of the four sovereigns to ensure the brilliant and
unparalleled successes that have distinguished their long reign. _Tchien
Lung_, at the age of eighty-three, was so little afflicted with the
infirmities of age, that he had all the appearance and activity of a
hale man of sixty. His eye was dark, quick, and penetrating, his nose
rather aquiline, and his complexion, even at this advanced age, was
florid. His height I should suppose to be about five feet ten inches,
and he was perfectly upright. Though neither corpulent nor muscular at
eighty-three, it was not difficult to perceive that he once had
possessed great bodily strength. He always enjoyed a vigorous
constitution, which the regularity of his life did not impair. Like all
the Mantchoo Tartars he was fond of hunting, an exercise that during the
summer months he never neglected. He had the reputation of being an
expert bowman, and inferior only in drawing this weapon to his
grandfather _Caung-shee_, who boasts, in his last will, that he drew a
bow of the weight or strength of one hundred and fifty pounds.
Nor were the faculties of his mind less active, or less powerful, than
those of his body. As prompt in conceiving as resolute in executing his
plans of conquest, he seemed to command success. Kind and charitable, as
on all occasions he shewed himself to his subjects, by remitting the
taxes, and administering relief in seasons of distress, he was no less
vindictive and relentless to his enemies. Impatient of restraint or
reverses, he has sometimes been led to act with injustice, and to punish
with too great severity. His irascible temper was once the cause of a
severe and lasting affliction to himself, and the circumstances
connected with it are said to have produced a gloom and melancholy on
his mind which never entirely forsook him. About the middle part of his
reign, he made a circuit through the heart of his empire. At
_Sau-tchoo-foo_, a city that is celebrated for its beautiful ladies
which, being purchased when infants, are educated there for sale to the
opulent, he was captivated with a girl of extraordinary beauty and
talents, whom he intended to carry back with him to his capital. The
Empress, by means of an eunuch, was made acquainted with his new amour,
and dreading his future neglect, her spirits were depressed to such a
degree, that a few days after receiving the intelligence she put an end
to her existence with a cord. The Emperor, on hearing this melancholy
news, was greatly distressed and repaired without delay to Pekin. One of
his sons, a very amiable youth, fearful of incurring his father's
displeasure, had entertained some doubts whether it would be most
proper to appear before him in deep mourning for his mother, which
might be construed as an insult to the father, who had been the cause of
her death, or in his robes of ceremony, which would be disrespectful to
the memory of his deceased mother. In this dilemma he consulted his
schoolmaster, who, like a true Chinese, advised him to put on both. He
did so and, unfortunately for him, covered the mourning with the
ceremonial habit. _Tchien-Lung_, whose affection had now returned for
his deceased Empress, and whose melancholy fate he was deeply lamenting,
on perceiving his son at his feet without mourning, was so shocked and
exasperated at the supposed want of filial duty that, in the moment of
rage, he gave him a violent kick in an unfortunate place which, after
his languishing a few days, proved fatal.
None of his four surviving sons ever possessed any share of his
confidence or authority which, of late years, were wholly bestowed on
his first minister _Ho-chung-tong_. He had a due sense of religious
duties, which he regularly performed every morning. Having made a vow at
the early part of his reign that, should it please heaven to grant him
to govern his dominions for a complete cycle, or sixty years, he would
then retire, and resign the throne to his successor, he religiously
observed it on the accomplishment of the event. The sincerity of his
faith may partly be inferred from the numerous and splendid temples he
built and endowed in different parts of oriental Tartary, of which the
_Poo-ta-la_, or convent of Budha at Gehol, is the most magnificent. It
is said indeed, from the circumstance of his long and fortunate reign,
he had, in his later years, entertained an idea, that the Lama, or
Budha, or Fo, for they are all the same personage, had condescended to
become incarnate in his person. "However wild and extravagant," observes
Lord Macartney, "such a conceit may be regarded, we know from history
how much even the best understandings may be perverted by prosperity,
and that human nature, not satisfied with the good things of this world,
sometimes wishes to anticipate the condition and felicity of the next.
If Alexander scorned to own less than Jupiter Ammon for his father, if
many Roman Emperors extorted altars and sacrifices in their lifetime,
if, even in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, an English nobleman[13]
encouraged the belief of his descent from a swan, and was complimented
in a dedication upon his feathered pedigree, a similar infatuation may
be the less inexcusable in _Kien-Long_, a monarch, the length and
happiness of whose reign, the unlimited obedience of whose incalculable
number of subjects, and the health and vigour of whose body, have
hitherto kept out of his view most of those circumstances that are apt
to remind other men of their misery and mortality."
[13] Duke of Buckingham. See the notes on this character in Shakespear's
Henry VIII. Act. i, Scene 2.