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and a short nap, he was again in his office where he wrote till dark or even later. In the afternoon he did not permit himself to be disturbed. Work over, he walked again, frequently alone, in the garden. After dinner he read, first something serious, philosophy, biography or poetry,—then finishing the evening with a novel. History, strange to say, did not attract him. He was abstemious in a general sense, though he did not refrain entirely from wine or tobacco. He was by no means unsocial, as a member of the Peking community; he made calls, he dined out, and himself gave a dinner party weekly through the winter season, followed by a dance. Nor was he ever too old to share in the quadrille and the lancers. But these evening festivities were confined within those bounds of time which the morrow's work demanded; when eleven o'clock came, the band struck up a stated march—the signal, familiar to every guest, to say “Good night” and go home. His Christmas trees year after year, who that were children in Peking can ever forget them! Such generosity, such an effort (sometimes pathetically mistaken) that each gift should exactly suit the receiver! Each parcel had been selected, done up, and marked by Sir Robert's own hand! But also such a rigid injunction to disperse promptly when the hour struck! Though to many persons Hart's life would seem an inflexible slavery to routine, yet he was one of the most interesting of men. There was nothing in the wide world far or near to which he was indifferent. He was full of imagination, with a deep vein of superstition even. Coincidences, signs, telepathy had the greatest attraction for him, he was always looking out for them and found them everywhere. When the protocol of the treaty with France in 1885 was at last agreed to -a welcome release from a protracted strain of suspensehe telegraphed even from far Peking to Paris, “Don't sign on the first April!"7

7 An excellent account of Sir Robert Hart's personality, of his relations to the members of the customs service, and of his work, may be found in chapter xvi of Sir Henry Norman’s The Peoples and Politics of the Far East, Scribner, 1895.

See also chapter on the “Inspectorate of Customs” in H. B. Morse's Trade and Administration of the Chinese Empire.

The only institutions of government in China today which have stood firm through the revolution's storm and stress and which seem certain to be permanent, are the two great organizations founded and built up by Robert Hart—the customs, China's one stable source of known revenue, and the postal service, which is spreading new ideas and stimulating popular intelligence throughout the land. These services afford careers to perhaps 20,000 Chinese.

Of late, some of the new leaders among the Chinese have expressed keen resentment because Hart did not train their native fellow countrymen to fill the highest posts in the customs. Rather than display this resentment, these critics might render more useful aid to their country at this crisis by devoting their energies to imitating in other departments of administration the efficient and incorruptible public service which Hart built up. Here is their best field of present reform! Let them imitate the example ready to their hands! It is true that Hart did not train up Chinese to become commissioners of customs at the treaty ports. In the sixties he announced publicly his purpose to do so through the Tung Wen Kwan Colleges at Peking and Canton. That nothing came of this purpose is the fault of the native officials, who degraded those colleges into mere sinecures for permanent, idle (but salaried) "students" so called! Prior to the revolution, there were no cadets to be found of the social standing and birth requisite to make responsible and incorruptible chiefs of the customs offices. Such Chinese young men as chose to come forward did not possess the inherent qualities or the native education to enable them to acquire the prestige necessary for dealing with Chinese official colleagues of the old school, or to exercise due authority over their staffs or among native and foreign merchants at the ports of trade. Besides, the customs service was

. legally in its nature and origin, a mixed institution, to be conducted under foreigners and in foreign methods. And as with time loans to China were made, the lenders even stipulated that the customs revenues which were pledged as security must be administered according to the existing system and without organic change. In a word Chinese official ideals of integrity must first be raised, as they will be; and when that time comes, the customs service will require no foreign stiffening. 8 Sun Yat Sen has taken a juster view of Hart's achievements than some others of his native critics.

The key of Hart's life of patience and loyalty with the Chinese and of his fidelity to duty, was a simple one. To me he wrote in 1867, thinking of slow China, early in his career:

We have not wings, we cannot soar,
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more.
Therefore, learn to labor and to wait.

And on the pad on his office desk, Miss Bredon tells us, not long before quitting China he had left these characteristic lines:

If thou hast yesterday thy duty done,

And thereby cleared firm footing for today,
Whatever clouds may dark tomorrow's sun,

Thou shalt not miss thy solitary way!

Further and plainer language on this topic may be found in Bland's Recent Events and Present Policies, p. 209.

• Sun Yat Sen and the Awakening of China, by Dr. James Cantlie, p. 248, Dr. Sun calls Hart “the most trusted as he was the most influential of 'Chinese.'



By Katharine A. Carl, Painter of the Portrait of the Late

Empress Dowager

I must first apologize for giving you but a gossipy talk, reminiscent of the dynasty that has passed and not touching upon things of import to China of today. Though the object of this conference, to which Clarke University has convened us, is to bring us to a better knowledge and appreciation of the Chinese, while we thrill at the recital of the struggles of the young republic to make itself worthy, I think all who are interested in China of today, even the ardent young republicans themselves, cannot fail to find some interest, to feel some pride in the great Empress Tze-Hsi who so long presided over the destinies of China, who, Manchu as she was, loving her own and full of the prejudices of her race. I found a patriotic Chinese, really loving and fully conscious of her great responsibilities toward China, deeply imbued with the idea of China's integrity, her right to retain her national entity at all costs and her power to work out her own salvation.

I had the honor of painting her majesty's portraits and of living with her during the eleven months necessary for the work. I was, during this time, brought into the close and quasi-intimate association that generally exists between the painter and his sitter, however august, and I learned to admire the Empress Dowager sincerely. I found her a charming woman ever fascinating and elusive, a perfect hostess, always thoughtful and considerate, a witty conversationalist, a clever painter, a womanly woman full of intelligence and charm; besides admiring in her those qualities of statesmanship, that executive power which the world at large has acknowledged.

Interesting as she was from the artist's standpoint, with her well poised head, her flashing eye, her noble nose, her regal bearing enhanced by imperial vestments and splendid jewels: her character, her vivid personality soon charmed me more than her exterior, and psychologically she was as interesting a study as she was artistically.

As the first question I am invariably asked about my experience is China is “How did you come to paint the Empress Dowager's portrait?” I will leave the interesting personality of my august sitter for the moment, and begin by telling you all I know about this. I visited Peking a few days after my arrival in China and at a dinner my first evening there, a secretary of the French legation in Peking (whom I had known in Paris) from his place at table, some distance from mine, asked me if I was not going “to paint the portrait of the Empress Dowager while I was in Peking." I laughlingly replied I was was perfectly willing to do so, but feared "willingness” would not carry me far towards its accomplishment, that my ambition at that time had not soared higher than hoping to have the opportunity of seeing the great woman! He insisted that being a woman and a painter of some little reputation were “qualifications" and that it was not so improbable. He then appealed to Sir Robert Hart asking him if it were not "probable." Sir Robert seemed more annoyed than interested and put a stop to the conversation by saying, “Miss Carl has not come to China to paint anyone's portrait.” Later in the evening

' when I was alone with him, Sir Robert referred to the conversation by saying. “It seems strange Monsieur who has been in China ten years doesn't know Chinese emperors and empresses are never painted from life. After their deaths a more or less imaginary likeness from memory is made of them, but should the Empress Dowager set aside all traditions, as she is capable of doing, it would never be in favor of a foreigner." As he was so earnest about it I laughingly assured him I had no intention of taking Monsicur

au serieux, that I should not pursue the Empress Dowager into the mysterious fastnesses of the forbidden city and demand to paint her portrait, nor should I even

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