The Chinese Ambassador
In the beginning of the year 1870 some English and French residents had been massacred in China. Reparation was demanded. His Excellency Tchong-Keon, Tutor of the Heir-apparent and Vice-President of the War Department, was sent to Europe as Ambassador Extraordinary to the English and French governments.
Tchong-Keon has recently published at Pekin a very curious account of his voyage. One of my friends who lives in Shanghai, and who possesses the rare talent of being able to read Chinese easily, sent me this faithful translation of a part of Tchong-Keon’s book:
HAVRE, September 12, 1870.
I land, and I make myself known. I am the Ambassador of the Emperor of China. I bear apologies to the Emperor of the French, and presents to the Empress. There is no Emperor and no Empress. A Republic has been proclaimed. I am much embarrassed. Shall I offer the apologies and presents that were intended for the Empire to the Republic?
HAVRE, September 14, 1870.
After much reflection, I shall offer the apologies and keep the presents.
HAVRE, September 26, 1870.
Yes; but to whom shall I carry the apologies, and to whom shall I present them? The Government of the French Republic is divided in two: there is one part in Paris and one part in Tours. To go to Paris is not to be thought of. Paris is besieged and blockaded by the Prussians. I shall go to Tours.
HAVRE, October 2, 1870.
I did not go, and I shall not go, to Tours. I received yesterday a visit from the correspondent of the Times, a most agreeable and sensible man. I told him that I intended going to Tours.
“To Tours! What do you want in Tours?”
“To present the apologies of my master to the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the French Republic.”
“But that minister isn’t in Tours.”
“And where is he?”
“Blockaded in Paris.”
A Minister of Foreign Affairs who is blockaded in a besieged town seemed to me most extraordinary.
“And why,” the correspondent of the Times asked me, “do you bring apologies to the French Government?”
“Because we massacred some French residents.”
“French residents! That’s of no importance nowadays. France no longer exists. You can, if it amuses you, throw all the French residents into the sea.”
“We also thoughtlessly massacred some English residents.”
“You massacred some English residents! Oh, that’s very different! England is still a great nation. And you have brought apologies to Queen Victoria?”
“Yes, apologies and presents.”
“Go to London, go straight to London, and don’t bother about France; there is no France.”
The correspondent of the Times looked quite happy when he spoke those words: “there is no France.”
LONDON, October 10, 1870.
I’ve seen the Queen of England. She received me very cordially. She has accepted the apologies; she has accepted the presents.
LONDON, October 12, 1870.
Had a long conversation with Lord Granville, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Queen of England. I explained to his Excellency that I meant to go home at once, and that I feel I need not pay further attention to my French embassy, as France no longer exists. Lord Granville answered me:
“Don’t go away so soon; you will perhaps be obliged to come back, and sooner than you imagine. France is an extraordinary country, which picks up very quickly. Await the end of the war, and then you can take your apologies to the Government that France will have decided on giving itself. Till then remain in England. We shall be most happy to offer you our hospitality.”
LONDON, November 3, 1870.
I did not return to China. I am waiting in London till the Minister of Foreign Affairs is not besieged, and till there is some way of laying one’s hands on the French Government. There are many Parisians here who escaped from their country on account of the war. I dined yesterday with his Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales. Three Parisian women, all three young, and all three pretty, took possession of me after dinner. We had a very interesting conversation in English.
“You are looking for the French Government, the legitimate Government?” said the first of these Parisians. “Why, it is here in England, half an hour from London. To-morrow go to the Waterloo station and buy a ticket for Chiselhurst, and there you will find Napoleon III., who is, and has never ceased to be, the Emperor of the French.”
“Don’t listen to her, Mr. Ambassador,” laughingly said the second Parisian, “don’t listen to her; she is a terrible Bonapartist. Yes, the true sovereign of France is in England, quite near London, but not at Chiselhurst; and it is not the Waterloo station you must go to, but the Victoria station. You mustn’t take a ticket for Chiselhurst, but for Twickenham, and there you will find at Orleans House his Royal Highness the Count of Paris.”
“Don’t listen to her, Mr. Ambassador,” exclaimed in turn, and also laughing, the third Parisian, “don’t listen to her; she is a terrible revolutionist! The Count of Paris is not the heir to the throne of France. To find the legitimate King you must go a little farther than Chiselhurst or Twickenham; you must go to Austria, to the Frohsdorf Palace. The King of France—he is the descendant of Henry IV.—is the Count of Chambord.”
If I count aright, that makes three legitimate sovereigns, and all three deposed. Never in China have we had anything of that sort. Our old dynasty has had to fight against the invasions of the Mongols and against the insurrections of the Taipings. But three legitimate sovereigns for the same country, for a single throne! One has to come to Europe to see such things.
However, the three Parisians gayly discussed the matter, and seemed to be the best friends in the world.
LONDON, November 15, 1870.
As a sequel to the three Frenchwomen, representing three different monarchs, I met, this evening, at Lord Granville’s, three Frenchmen representing three different republics.
The first asked me why I didn’t go to Tours.
“You will find there,” he said to me, “the authorized representatives of the French Republic, and in addressing yourself to M. Gambetta you are addressing France—”
“Don’t do that, Mr. Ambassador!” exclaimed the second Frenchman; “the real Government of the real French Republic is shut up in Paris. M. Jules Favre alone can officially receive your visit and your apologies.”
“The Republic of Paris isn’t worth more than the Republic of Tours,” the third Frenchman then told me. “If we have a Republic in France, it will be neither the Republic of M. Gambetta nor the Republic of M. Jules Favre.”
“And whose Republic then?”
“The Republic of M. Thiers—”
Whereupon the three Frenchmen began to dispute in earnest. They were very red, shouted loudly, and made violent gestures. The discussion about the three monarchies had been much gentler and much more agreeable than the discussion about the three republics.
During the evening these Frenchmen managed to slip into my ear, in turn, two or three little phrases of this kind:
“Don’t listen,” the first one said to me, “to that partisan of the Government of Paris; he is a lawyer who has come here with a commission from M. Jules Favre. So you see he has a big salary, and as he wishes to keep it—”
“Don’t listen,” the second one said to me, “to that partisan of the alleged Republic of M. Thiers; he is only a monarchist, a disguised Orleanist—”
“Don’t listen,” the third one said to me, “to that partisan of the Republic of Tours; he is a gentleman who has come to England to get a loan for the benefit of the Government of Tours; so, as he expects to get a lot of money—”
Thus I am, if I reckon correctly, face to face with six governments—three monarchies and three republics.
LONDON, December 6, 1870.
I think that his Excellency, M. de Bernstoff, Prussian Ambassador to England, takes pleasure in making fun of me. I never meet him but that he announces to me that Paris will capitulate the next day. The next day arrives and Paris does not capitulate. However, this evening his Excellency looked so perfectly sure of what he was saying that I think I can prepare to start for Paris.
PARIS, February 20, 1871.
I only left on the 10th of February. At last I am in Paris. I travelled slowly, by short stages. What a lot of burned villages! What a lot of sacked houses! What a lot of devastated forests, dug-up woods, and bridges and railroads destroyed! And these Europeans treat us as barbarians!
However, among all these ruins there is one the sight of which filled me with the keenest joy. The palace of Saint-Cloud was the summer palace of the Emperor Napoleon, and not a stone upon a stone remains. I contemplated curiously, eagerly, and for a long time the blackened ruins of this palace. Pieces of old Chinese vases were hidden in the heaps of rubbish among the wreck of marble and fragments of shell.
Where did those old Chinese vases come from? Perhaps from the summer palace of our Emperor, from that palace which was devastated, burned, and destroyed by those English and French soldiers who came to bring us civilization.
I was extremely well received by the English, who overwhelmed me with invitations and kindnesses; but none the less I hope that the palaces of Buckingham and Windsor will also have their turn.
PARIS, February 25, 1871.
I have written to M. Jules Favre to let him know that I have been waiting six months for the opportunity of presenting to him the compliments and apologies of the Emperor of China. M. Jules Favre answered me that he is obliged to start for Bordeaux. I shall have an audience in the beginning of March.
PARIS, March 7, 1871.
Another letter from M. Jules Favre. He is expected at Frankfort by M. de Bismarck. My audience is again put off.
PARIS, March 17, 1871.
At last, to-morrow, March 18th, at four o’clock, I am to be received by M. Jules Favre at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
PARIS, March 18, 1871.
We dressed ourselves, I and my two secretaries, in our official costumes, and departed at three o’clock, accompanied by an interpreter. We arrived. The court of the house was filled with people who appeared busy and hurried, and who came and went, carrying cases and packages. The interpreter, after having exchanged several words with an employee of the ministry, said to me:
“Something serious has happened—an insurrection. The Government is again obliged to change its capital!”
At that moment a door opened, and M. Jules Favre himself appeared with a large portfolio under his arm. He explained to the interpreter that I should have my audience at Versailles in several days, and having made me a profound bow, which I returned him, he ran away with his large portfolio.
VERSAILLES, March 19, 1871.
I had to leave Paris at twelve o’clock in a great hurry. There really is a new Government at Paris. This Government is not one of the three monarchies, nor one of the three republics. It is a seventh arrangement, which is called the Commune. This morning an armed troop of men surrounded the house where I live. It seems that the new Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Paris of the Commune would have been charmed to receive a Chinese ambassador. They had come to carry me off. I had time to escape. It is not the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Paris that I ought to see, it is the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Versailles.
Good heavens, how complicated it all is! And when shall I be able to put my hand on this intangible person, who is now blockaded in Paris and now chased out of Paris?
VERSAILLES, April 6, 1871.
At last, yesterday, I had the honor of being received by his Excellency, and we discussed the events that had occurred in Paris.
“This insurrection,” M. Jules Favre said to me, “is the most formidable and the most extraordinary that has ever broken out.”
I could not allow such a great historical error to pass. I answered M. Jules Favre that we had had in China for millions of years socialists and socialistic uprisings; that the French Communists were but rough imitators of our Chinese Taipings; that we had had in 1230 a siege at Nankin which had lasted seven years, etc. In short, these Europeans are only beginning again our history with less grandeur and more barbarity.
VERSAILLES, May 15, 1871.
My mission is ended; I could return to China; but all that I see here interests me extremely. This civil war immediately succeeding a foreign war is a very curious occurrence. There is here, for a Chinaman, an excellent opportunity of study, on the spot and from life, of European civilization.
VERSAILLES, May 24, 1871.
Paris is burning, and on the terrace of the palace of Saint-Cloud, in the midst of the ruins of that palace, I passed my day looking at Paris burn. It is a dead, destroyed, and annihilated city.
PARIS, June 10, 1871.
Not at all. It is still the most beautiful city in Europe, and the most brilliant, and the most gay. I shall spend some time in Paris.
PARIS, June 29, 1871.
Yesterday M. Thiers, in the Bois de Boulogne, held a review of a hundred thousand men. Will there always be a France?