Chapter VIII: Front Matter (8)

The fourteenth chapter of _L’Insurrection en Chine_ is chiefly occupied by a description of the five feudatory kings appointed by Tièn-tè (one of whom takes the title of the Great Pacificator, whilst the four others are known as Kings of the North, South, East, and West), of the Pretender’s ministers, of the dress and official insignia of the various dignitaries, and of the organisation of the insurgent army, which is regular and perfect. It also comprises a proclamation, exhorting the people to rise in arms against their tyrannical government, and whose exalted and metaphorical style may be judged of by a single short extract. “How is it that you, Tartars, do not yet understand that it is time to gather up your scattered bones, and to light slices of bacon to serve as signals to your terror?” Notwithstanding such eccentricities of expression, which may possibly be heightened by extreme literalness of translation, the document has its importance, especially by reason of a tendency to Christianity traced by MM. Callery and Yvan in the commencement of one of its paragraphs. “We adore respectfully the Supreme Lord,” says Tièn-tè, “in order to obtain His protection for the people.” The descendant of the Mings was now in full march for the city which, under the ancient dynasty he assumes to represent, and proposes to restore, was the capital of all China. With a formidable fleet and an army of fifty thousand men, the five kings appeared before Nankin.

“This city, which contains more than half a million of inhabitants, has thrice the circumference of Paris; but amidst its deserted streets are found large spaces turned up by the plough, and the grass grows upon the quays, to which a triple line of shipping was formerly moored. It is situated in an immense plain, furrowed by canals as numerous as those which traverse the human body. Its fertile district is a net-work of rivulets and of navigable water-courses, fringed with willows and bamboos. In the province of Nankin grows the yellowish cotton from which is made the cloth exported thence in enormous quantities; there also is reaped the greater part of all the rice consumed in the empire. The Kiang-Nan, or province of Nankin, is the richest gem in the diadem of the Son of Heaven. Nothing in old Europe can give an idea of its fruitfulness—neither the plains of Beauce, nor those of Lombardy, nor even opulent Flanders. Twice a-year its fields are covered with crops, and they yield fruit and vegetables uninterruptedly.... We have had the happiness to sit in the shadow of the orchards which fringe the Ou-Soung, one of the numerous veins that fertilise the province of Kiang-Nan. There we have gathered with our own hands the fleshy jujube, which travellers have often mistaken for the date; the pomegranate, with its transparent grains; monstrous peaches, beside which the finest produced at Montreuil seem but wild fruit, and the diospyros as large as a tomata. We have seen the scarlet pheasant and his brother of the pearl-tinted plumage running in the fields. This province contains thirty-eight millions of inhabitants.

“To a Chinese nothing is beautiful, good, graceful, elegant, or tasteful, but what comes from Nankin or from Sou-Tcheou-Fou. Wedded to routine, we have but one city which sets the fashions; the Chinese have two. The fashionables of the Celestial Empire are divided into two schools, one of which holds by Nankin, the other by Sou-Tcheou-Fou. It is still doubtful which of the two will carry the day. As to Pekin, the centre of government, it has no weight in matters of pleasure and taste; it has the monopoly of ennui. In Nankin reside the men of letters and learning, the dancers, painters, archæologists, jugglers, physicians, poets, and celebrated courtesans. In that charming city are held schools of science, art, and pleasure; for pleasure is, in that country, both an art and a science.”

With this interesting extract we shall conclude our article, after quoting a significant passage from a short proclamation which Tièn-tè’s agents have lately circulated:

“As to those stupid priests of Bouddha, and those jugglers of Tao-se,” it says, “they shall all be repressed, and their temples and their monasteries shall be demolished, as well as those of all the other corrupt sects.”

MM. Callery and Yvan anxiously speculate as to who are designated by the words _other corrupt sects_. Was the proclamation drawn up by a disciple of Confucius, or by a member of Gutzlaff’s Chinese Union? They admit that for the present it is impossible to answer the question.

But Tièn-tè’s banner waves over Nankin, and the riddle may soon be solved.

LADY LEE’S WIDOWHOOD.