By all the laws of climax the incident should close here; no writer would dream of dragging it out further, but unfortunately in real life there is little respect for climaxes, and that vexatious Treaty coquetted with her suitors once more. Really it was enough to make anybody lose patience altogether. When the ground was clear at the very last moment, how absurd that the Black Flags and the Chinese should win a big victory over the French at Langson and that, in consequence, there should have been an interpellation in the French Senate causing the Jules Ferry Ministry to resign suddenly and leaving the Treaty still unsigned.

The victory affected the Chinese no less seriously; in the twinkling of an eye they were split into two parties. The military side, elated with their success, was all for continuing the war ("Those we have beaten once we shall beat again," said they), and the wiser councils of the civil side only just carried the day, for, flushed as the soldiers were with victory, it was not easy to make them see that their success was but temporary, and the best, in fact the only thing, for China to do was to hurry on with the Treaty.

Then the endless telegraphing began again. The I.G., by the way, had spent Tls. 80,000 (over 10,000) on telegrams, a sum which, had the Treaty failed, would not have been repaid easily. But it was too late to stop now. Once more he wired instructions to his Secretary.

"You must face the jump. Go direct to the President and lay the matter before him." In those days, when he was manoeuvring for a big success, the I.G. sometimes risked much on the turn of a card.

Mr. Campbell went to President Grevy, and later to the Foreign Minister de Freycinet. Things, as they seemed most desperate, took a brighter turn; difficulties melted away, and at last, on the 4th of April, 1885, M. Billot, afterwards Amba.s.sador at Rome, was appointed by the French Government to sign for France, and the Resident Secretary of course signed for the Chinese. Thus the work was really completed by those last basketfuls of earth, and the long months of anxiety and strain brought to a happy conclusion much to everybody's satisfaction.

Later, M. de Freycinet asked the I.G. to continue and arrange the detail Treaty, as the first had been really little more than a Protocol. The second went through without a hitch, and on June 9th Li Hung Chang and M. Patenotre signed it at Tientsin.

Next day the I.G. had a telegram from London from Lord Granville saying that the Gladstone Ministry was about to resign. "If your appointment as British Minister at Peking is to be published before the new Government under Lord Salisbury comes in, it must be gazetted immediately." He was then able to answer. "Yes. Publish whenever you please. The French Treaty was signed yesterday, June 9."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENTRANCE TO THE INSPECTORATE OF CUSTOMS BEFORE 1900.]

Sir Robert Hart planned to go into the Legation in August, on the anniversary of his wedding day. Of course you may be sure he had reported the matter to the Chinese and sent in his resignation in good time. But, as they gave him no definite answer, there was nothing for it but to remind them that he had agreed to go--and soon. Downcast faces listened; a most unconsenting silence answered.

"Well, are you willing?" said he at last. "Is Her Majesty the Empress-Dowager agreeable to receiving me as British Minister?"

"Oh, yes," they replied; "she would rather have you than any one else, because, with your great knowledge of China, it will be very pleasant to do business with you. Besides, you are an old friend of ours."

"Then is she willing to have me leave the Inspectorate?" continued the I.G., still feeling a subtle sense of their dissatisfaction. They brightened up at this. It was evidently the cue they had been looking for. "That is the point," said one of the Ministers, plucking up courage. "Her Majesty would much prefer that you stayed with us."

The upshot of it all was that he stayed; he felt that in the face of the Yamen's remarks he could not treat such kind and considerate employers as the Chinese otherwise. But one of the quaintest touches in the whole affair was that his strongest private reason for holding back, at first, from the splendid appointment as British Minister was that he did not wish to tie himself for five years longer in China--and yet after all he was to stay twenty-five willingly in the land of his exile.

CHAPTER VIII

AN IMPORTANT MISSION TO HONGKONG AND MACAO--THE BEGINNING OF A PRIVATE BAND--DECORATIONS, CHINESE AND FOREIGN--THE SIKKIM-THIBET CONVENTION--FORMAL ESTABLISHMENT OF THE POST OFFICE--WAR LOANS

Robert Hart therefore went quietly on with his work in the Customs (1885), setting personal ambitions calmly aside, and finding--let us hope--his reward in the satisfaction which the Chinese and the service generally expressed at his sacrifice of the British Government's tempting offer.

The very year after it was made, an important piece of business, safely, even brilliantly concluded, added greatly to his reputation.

This was the settlement of questions relating to the simultaneous collection of duty and likin on opium--two of the burning questions of the day in the south. China had long desired to levy both taxes at one and the same time, but without an arrangement with the Hongkong and Macao Governments this was impossible, as clever smugglers usually contrived to hurry the drug safely into either British or Portuguese territory before the Chinese authorities could lay their eyes, much less levy their duties, upon it. Moreover, once it had crossed a frontier, redress was impossible.

To remedy this unfortunate state of affairs, the I.G., together with a certain Taotai, was sent on a mission. Great pourparlers were held with the Hongkong authorities, who finally agreed to the concessions he asked--provided the Macao authorities should do the same. Luckily they did with readiness--even with enthusiasm--as they themselves were anxious for a _quid pro quo_ from China.

The Portuguese position in Macao had always been a peculiar one--unofficial is the word which best describes it--for though they had quietly occupied the place since the far-away days of the Mings, the Chinese had tolerated the strangers without recognizing them, only now and then murdering one by way of protest. Here, then, was their chance to obtain official status, and the Governor, a shrewd man, seized it. The matter went through without a hitch; China, in addition to getting her own way on the likin question, was given the right to open her Custom Houses at Kowloon (Hongkong) and Lappa (Macao), while Portugal on her side agreed never to sell or cede Macao to any other Power without China's consent.

A slight pa.s.sage-at-arms between the I.G. and a certain Chinese official enlivened the proceedings, and threw an amusing sidelight on Oriental methods. This man, when Robert Hart met him in Canton, said with amazing frankness, "I had a spy in Hongkong who repeated to me faithfully all that went on there, all that you did, all that you said; but I had n.o.body in Macao. So will you please tell me what happened in the latter place?"

When the I.G. refused, saying the business concerned only himself and the Yamen, the fellow was first genuinely amazed, then righteously indignant, finally secretly vindictive. He nursed the grievance for years, and revenged himself at last by memorializing against the I.G.'s famous Land Tax Scheme, which, weathering a storm of bitter criticism, lived to enjoy great praise.

Once this Mission was over, the I.G. travelled no more. Things were so well established by this time that there was no need for him to tour the ports, and increasing work kept him ever closer to his desk in Peking. Never was a man, I think, who lived a quieter or more orderly life, or who had less recreation in his days. He went little into society; when he did, his rare appearances were immensely remarked--much as the pa.s.sage of a comet might have been--and if he made a visit, it was talked of with pride all through the community.

Indeed, the hostess who could say "The I.G. took tea with me to-day,"

was something of a heroine. He read much and wrote prodigiously, sending out--and receiving too--the mail of a Prime Minister.

One extravagance, and only one, did he permit himself--I am thinking of his private band. Yet even that he did not deliberately seek. The idea came to him unexpectedly, put into his head by the Commissioner of Customs at Tientsin, who wrote one day that he had among his subordinates the very man for a bandmaster. Pathetic derelict, a bandmaster without a band! Acting upon a sudden inspiration--perhaps with some subtle intuition of the important part the music was to play in the life of the community in after years, and of all the pleasure it was to give--the I.G. sent money from his private purse to buy instruments and music, though until that moment the idea of a band in Peking had seemed infinitely remote if not utterly preposterous.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIR ROBERT HART'S BAND IN THE EARLY 'NINETIES, BEFORE IT HAD GROWN TO ITS PRESENT SIZE.

Playing on the lawn in front of his house.]

Some dozen promising young Chinese were at once collected and initiated into the complicated mysteries of chords and keys. They learned quickly and well--so well that within a year eight of them were ready to come up to the capital and teach others. A doubtful venture became an a.s.sured success. More and more players were added; a promising barber, lured, perhaps, by the playing of his friend's flute, abandoned his trade and set to work on the 'cello; or a shoemaker, forsaking his last, devoted himself to the cornet. The neighbouring tailor laid aside his needle; the carter left his cart, bewitched away from everyday things by the music. It may be the smart uniform had something to do with the popularity of the organization; there is ever a fine line between art and vanity--but why dwell upon an ign.o.ble motive?

Suffice it to say, whether from pure conceit or better things, the little company grew till it reached a score, and, under a Portuguese bandmaster, touched a high level of perfection, playing both on bra.s.s and strings with taste and spirit. The Tientsin branch flourished equally well and became ultimately the Viceroy's band, and the mother of bands innumerable all over the metropolitan province of Chihli. But in reputation it never equalled what was known throughout China as the "I.G.'s Own."

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIR ROBERT HART'S CHINESE BAND.]

In spring and autumn his musicians gave an open-air concert in the Inspectorate garden every Wednesday afternoon. Of course, this was the event of the week so far as society was concerned. Peking residents, as well as many distinguished strangers who happened to be pa.s.sing, came to listen. The scene was invariably animated; ladies walked about under the lilacs, which in April hung over the paths like soft clouds of purple fog, displaying their newest toilettes; diplomats discussed _la situation politique_; missionaries argued points of doctrine; correspondents exchanged bits of news. All nationalities, cla.s.ses and creeds were represented in this cosmopolitan corner of the world, but the lions and the lambs agreed tacitly to tolerate each other for the sake of hearing the familiar tunes, warming as good old wine to the hearts of exiles, and for the sake of seeing the mysterious man whose advice, given, as it were, under his breath, shaped the course of events in China.

He guessed well enough what brought the people, and would sometimes remark laughingly, "They come; I know why they all come. It is just to get a sight of the two curios of Peking, the I.G. and his queer musicians."

Occasionally Chinese guests would mingle with the rest, lending with their silken gowns and silken manners a touch of picturesqueness to the scene. I can well remember seeing the famous Wu Ting Fang, whose alert manner made him a general favourite. He prided himself upon it--and rightly. "How old do you think I am?" he asked his host one day. "Perhaps forty-five," was the reply. "Forty-five! What a guess!

Sixty-five would have been nearer--and I mean to live to be two hundred."

He went on to explain carefully how this feat was to be accomplished.

The first thing, naturally, was diet. The man who would cheat time should live on nuts like the squirrels (do they contrive to do it, I wonder?). Under no conditions should he touch salt, lest a dangerous precipitate form upon his bones, and he should begin and end each meal with a teaspoonful of olive oil. So much for the physical side: the mental is no less important. "I have hung scrolls in my bedroom," Wu Ting Fang went on to explain, "with these sentences written upon them in English and in Chinese: 'I am young, I am healthy, I am cheerful.'

Immediately I enter the room my eye falls upon these precepts. I say to myself, Why, of course I am, and therefore I _am_." Was ever simpler or saner method discovered for warding off old age?

Towards the end of 1889 the Chinese Government, desirous of paying the I.G. a special compliment, chose to confer upon him an honour never before given to any foreigner. Without precedent and without warning, the Emperor issued an Imperial Decree raising him to the Chinese equivalent of the peerage. Henceforth he belonged to the distinguished company of Iron Hatted Dukes--at least not he but his ancestors did, for this was no ordinary father-to-son patent of n.o.bility. The topsy-turvy honour reached backward instead of forward, diminishing one rank with each succeeding generation.

The Chinese reason as follows: "If a man is wise or great or successful, it is because his forbears were studious or temperate or frugal. Therefore, when we give rewards, shall we not give them where they are justly due?" Something might be said for a point of view so diametrically opposed to our own, but the question of ethics has nothing to do with my story.

The strange feature of it is that the very night before the Edict appeared--when the I.G. had not the slightest hint of what was in store for him--he dreamed of his father's father--a thing he had not done for years. Dressed in a snuff-coloured suit, with knee-breeches and shining shoe buckles, he appeared walking down the little street of Portadown leaning heavily upon a blackthorn stick and murmuring sadly, "n.o.body cares for me, n.o.body takes any notice of me." n.o.body, indeed?

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIR ROBERT HART'S STABLES IN 1890.]

The very next evening at a dinner party at the French Legation some one told the I.G. of the new honour, gazetted an hour before, and how an Emperor, with a stroke of his Vermilion Pencil, had deprived the ghost of a grievance.

Equally romantic was a coincidence that happened when the I.G. was made a Baronet in 1893. The question of arms then coming up, he made all possible enquiries concerning those which his family had a right to use. Without doubt the Harts did bear arms in the days of William of Orange, when they were granted to the famous Dutchman Captain van Hardt who so distinguished himself at the Battle of the Boyne. But after his death the family grew poor; the arms fell into disuse and were forgotten so completely that one descendant thought they might have been a hart rampant, while another declared they were a sheaf of burning wheat.

Robert Hart was not the man to grope long in a fog of mystery. He decided the question once and for all by submitting a blazon of his own choice to the College of Heralds, and his design--three fleurs de lis and a four-leaved shamrock--was sanctioned, as it had not been previously applied for.

The search for the original arms was naturally given up then, but by the merest accident they were ultimately found. Some member of the family happening years afterwards to stroll through a very old cemetery in Dublin, curiosity or idleness led him to examine the tombstones. One in particular attracted his attention, perhaps because it was more dilapidated and tumble-down than the rest. He gently sc.r.a.ped the moss from the inscription and found that he had stumbled on the long-forgotten tomb of Captain van Hardt, and underneath the hero's name he found a coat-of-arms, half obliterated yet still recognizable. It showed _three fleurs de lis and a four-leaved shamrock_.

But it must not be imagined that Robert Hart was the man to rest on his laurels or to regard honours as so many flags of truce ent.i.tling him to draw out, even for a time, of the battle of work. From 1889 to 1903 he was deeply engaged on that very important business the Sikkim-Thibet Convention. The Thibetans having crossed the border into Sikkim, a State protected by the British, the British in return sent an expedition into Thibet and, since there was trouble about the frontier, refused to go out again. This was a very disagreeable predicament for China. She turned, as usual, to the man who never ceased labouring on her behalf, and, as usual, he rose to the occasion.

Mr. James Hart, the I.G.'s brother, lately returned from delimitating the Tonkin frontier, was sent posthaste to a.s.sist the Amban, the Chinese Resident in Thibet. As a result of this wise choice, the preliminary Treaty was put through by 1890, and the Chinese Customs opened stations in Thibet. Three questions relative to trade, however, remained to be settled, and for three long years negotiations over these dragged on at Darjeeling.

Needless to say it was a slow and often wearisome business, with the interest, to my mind, unfairly divided. On one side, the Thibetan side, there was picturesqueness enough, though not without discomfort too, for many a time the envoys must needs cross mountain-pa.s.ses so deep in snow that a hundred Thibetans marched ahead treading it down, and not less often they must sleep in the rudest camps and eat the unsavoury cuisine of the country. But on the other, the Peking side, there was nothing but hard and dreary work, since every word that the Chinese Commissioners said was telegraphed back to the I.G., and then carefully discussed with the Yamen.

No sooner was quiet restored in Thibet than anxiety about war with j.a.pan began to agitate the Chinese capital. The air was as full of rumours as a woman of whims. One day, happening to find himself beside Baron Komura, the j.a.panese Charge d'Affaires in Peking, the I.G. half laughingly remarked, "So you are going to fight China after all?

I suppose you will win." "Oh, one never knows," was the Minister's diplomatic reply. Strange to say the general opinion among men less practical and less well-informed than the Inspector-General, was that China would easily win a war against j.a.pan--if it came to war--just as later the unanimous opinion in the Far East was that if Russia fought j.a.pan, Russia must conquer.

But subsequent events proved Robert Hart right. China, after a brief struggle, was severely beaten, and peace came as a relief. Then immediately the question of loans to pay off the indemnity arose.