As Her Majesty gave me my morning sittings after the Audience was finished (which lasted from eight a.m. to ten or eleven), I had plenty of time, after my cup of tea, to explore the grounds of our Palace, and I discovered new beauties each day. The Park was enclosed by high walls, for the Chinese are jealous of their privacy. Parts of the grounds were gently undulating, and all the eminences, where views could be had, were surmounted by charming summerhouses and belvederes. In one of these, where I loved to go in the early morning to refresh myself by the contemplation of the calm and peaceful lake beneath, and drink in the faint perfume of the stately lotus flowers, which grew in rich profusion on its bosom, I found an inscription on a large flat stone at the left of the entrance. I had seen enough of Chinese characters to know the inscription looked like a “poem.” The Chinese poem is rarely more than a phrase: the expression, in elegant and concise form, of some dainty fancy, some bit of philosophy, and is more properly a “verse” than a poem.
I found, later, the inscription on the stone at the entrance of the summerhouse was really a “poem,” and had been written by no less a personage than the Seventh Prince himself! This had been his favorite place for rest and contemplation, and one day, as he reclined upon a cushion at the entrance, he had written this poem on the flat stone which lay conveniently near. The Chinese write with a brush well charged with liquid India ink, and their writing accommodates itself to almost any surface. Their characters, one for each word, take up less space than our combination of letters, and are infinitely more picturesque! Chinese gentlemen, or some attendant, generally carry about with them tablets of writing-ink and a brush, and they thus have the means at hand for jotting down a thought as it comes to them.
This little poem had been written with a brush, and some of the Prince’s followers had afterward cut the characters in the stone, so that it became a permanent record of a fleeting thought. It had evidently been inspired by the lotus flowers growing beneath; so gloriously beautiful today, and tomorrow shorn of their splendor. It was a plaint on the transience of worldly glory—
… Which today, like the lotus fair,
Lifts its head in pride;
But tomorrow lies low,
Bathed in the stagnant waters of oblivion.
One day I came upon a number of small tombstones, in a beautiful shady corner, near the stables. I learned that these marked the last resting-places of the Prince’s favorite dogs and horses. Each stone had an inscription with the name, and extolled the virtues of the favorite, whose bones lay beneath it. The Prince was a great lover of animals, and is said to have had the best kennels and stables of any of the Imperial Princes.
In my morning rambles, I also often came upon stones engraved with some character or a phrase from the classics. The ideographic Chinese characters, always picturesque, are doubly so when deeply engraved, or standing out in high relief on some rugged stone in a charming spot in the landscape. The picturesque form of the characters is sometimes heightened by being painted in vermilion or gilded; and the glowing color makes a delightful contrast with the cool gray of the stone. Even though I could not decipher the characters, nor read the phrases, I loved to come upon them in my morning walks. How much more interesting they must have been to the scholarly Chinese who understood them! How fine, when out for rest and contemplation, to come upon some thought of their great Sages cut in the living rock, or to see some character meaning “Peace” or “Prosperity” standing out, in bold relief or glowing color, from some shady nook, as if to bless him!
From another of the summerhouses in the Park I could see the stone-paved highway leading from the Capital to the Summer Palace. During Their Majesties’ residence at the Summer Palace, this is a busy thoroughfare. When I did not care for peaceful contemplation or quiet rambles over the grounds, I would go to this summerhouse, whence I could see the carts and “chairs” of the officials, with their outriders, going to and from the Palace; messengers galloping past, bearing despatches; all sorts of itinerant venders, with their wares; heavily laden wagons, with small yellow banners flying, which showed they carried supplies to the Palace. Sometimes a group of horsemen would dash gaily past, the retainers of some splendidly attired young Prince, who rode in their midst on a red-saddled, handsomely caparisoned horse with silver trappings. Anon, the cumbersome, red, fringe-bedecked cart of some Princess, preceded and followed by from fifteen to thirty outriders, according to her rank in the Princely hierarchy, the black carts of her women bringing up the rear.
One can tell the rank of the Chinese from the outsides of their chairs or carts. Only a reigning Emperor and Empress can go abroad in yellow chairs. The Emperor’s secondary wives ride in orange-colored chairs. The relicts of an Emperor, first or secondary, go in yellow or orange-colored carts. Princesses go abroad in red carts. Mandarins of the first and second degrees ride in green chairs; those of the third and fourth in blue chairs; and there is still another shape and style of chair for the ordinary individual, who may prefer a chair to a cart.
