T is a phenomenon persistent in Chinese history, observed by all foreign students, and noticed with complacency by native writers, that the wisdom and diplomacy of the Empire have invariably risen superior to defeat of its naval and military forces, not only nullifying the enemy's success, but frequently deriving solid advantage from the subsequent negotiations. The phenomenon itself is undeniable, as the records of previous dynasties fully prove (here the author quotes learnedly from the " Mirror of History "). If we study the subject since the time when the British began bringing civilisation (and opium) to China-which is the beginning of modern history in this country-we find that every defeat inflicted by Europe on the Celestial Empire has been followed by the diplomatic collapse (generally gradual, sometimes sudden) of the victors. Remember that in the past fifty years China has been mauled five times, her capital twice sacked, and her fighting capacity - or rather her capacity for not fighting - has been much the same all the time; yet how much forrader is Europe' now, after the Boxer protocol, than she was in I 860? Ask the diplomat? he'll tell you times were never so bad in his business. The merchant? he is getting down close to bed-rock. The missionary? he's going to be regulated out of existence. Another defeat of China by the armies of Europe, and Western civilisation can pack up and get out, which is just one more instance of the general contrariness of cause and effect in this country.
Newspaper people, and the retired consular folk who pose as authorities on the Far Eastern question, have explained the thing in their own way, of course. They're pal id to do it, and they must live somehow. Some of them wi ill tell you that it's the benevolent toleration of the West for this ancient civilisation; others put it down to the international jealousies of the Powers, and there's a whole lot of talk about vis inertia and the capacity of China as a passive resister. You might as well explain a Mahatma by the rule of three. Some-and they are getting nearer the mark-say that the solution of the mystery lies in a peculiar quality of the atmosphere or dust in Peking, some soporific or flabbifying germ which speedily imbues the most intelligent and energetic of diplomats with the apathy of a dormouse and the complacency of a door-mat. A poet, who subsequently went to sleep himself, once expressed this opinion in some spirited lines:-

As if the mouldering walls
Of that Peking which typifies decay
Shut out all purpose, shutting in the man,
As if each roof in that foul street where lodge
The envoys of proud states, had thrown the shade
Of apathy on those who dwell below.

But no explanation that any of you have heard of really meets the case. The slightest knowledge of humanity will lay out these journalistic fallacies, and the man who ascribes altruistic motives to Governments in these mailed fist days is just talking. As to passive resisters-well, history shows that they have generally resisted themselves into oblivion or comfortable servility; there is no case on record of passive resisters behaving like the Empress Dowager and the Waiwupu, and living to a ripe old age. The Peking germ theory looks all right at first-I believed in it for quite a while myself-but there's a vital flaw in it which strikes you sooner or later, and that is, that a good deal of Chinese diplomacy isn't done in Peking, and yet the results are always the same-the defeated Yellow Man comes up smiling, to stand flat-footed on the stomach of the conquering White. It was perception of this flaw that led me to the solution of the mystery.
And when you think of the money and lives that have been spent on civilising China, all in the hope of getting them to wear our dry-goods while they live, and go to our Heaven decently when they die, it's a mystery that really seems worth more attention than it gets. It certainly deserves a select committee far better than most of the things Mr. Roosevelt worries himself about, and Mr. Rockhill would do well to look into it and leave the foreign relations of China in the Middle Ages to any sinologue that's got nothing better to do.
And, like all great truths, it is very simple. The secret of the unvarying success of Chinese diplomacy lies in certain occult and hypnotic influences of the P'utzu, worn in the manner prescri 'bed by the sumptuary laws of Hung Wu, the first of the Mings. They look innocent enough, don't they, these artistically~embroldered squares? Many of you ladies use them for tea-cosies or cushions Gust as some men wear a scarabeus of Old Egypt for a scarf-pin) without an inkling of the deadly work the thing has done in its time on a Prefect's chest or a Taotal's back.
Hung Wu introduced his methods of government at a time when black art was a live business in the Far East. A good deal of it subsequently found its way to India, and reached Europe by way of Arabia, in time to make things quite interesting for the Middle Ages-(herefollows a Learned discussion of occult science, as practised by the sect of the assassins, Esoteric Buddhists, the Borgias, and the Society for Psychical Research).
Besides being an adept in hypnotism, Hung Wu was a student of history, and therefore had doubts as to the permanence of political institutions in China, that is, the China he meant to leave to his successors. Also, like Lord Curzon,' he believed in keeping the military power subordinate to the civil. So, with unholy incantations, he devised the P'utzu, and decreed that every official, civil and mi 'litary, should wear them on their official robes. To the casual glance of the uninitiated they look as harmless as doyleys - sort of prehistoric postage stamps - but as a matter of fact Hung Wu put all he knew of devil pidgin into them, combining all the ingredients of mesmeric terrorism into a nicely graduated series, calculated to catch the eye of a blind beggar. And they have done their work ever since.
I've worked out a theory of hypnotics from a careful study of the patterns on P'utzu, with notes of the relative potency of each combination and observations of results from personal experience-but this isn't the place for them. It would be difficult to explain to you exactly why a white crane standing on one leg on convoluted clouds, with a red sun in the corner, gets in its work quicker than a wild goose with a background of serrated waves. but it's a fact. And old Hung knew what he was doing when he gave the military officials P'utzus that looked all right-beasts like Sime's, very fierce and funny, but which can't stand up against any of the civil birds when it comes to deadly radiations. He knew. in the first place, that a military official would always be too far off in case of danger for any hypnotic influence to be effective; and, secondly, that it didn't matter about the army getting beaten so long as the civil officers of the state could hypnotise the victors into a state of abject apology, which they have done ever since. So he bespattered the military with unicorns, seals, and rhinoceri, whose value, for mesmeric purposes, is trifling. With the civil order he was careful down to the ninth button; never put in a bird that didn't mean business, filled in every corner with mystic scroll-work and secret dia- grams; so that in dealing with novices the Mandarin Duck is almost as terrifying as the Golden Pheasant. I once saw a French Consul utterly routed by the Egret of a liu p'in hsien-sheer case of unreasoning panic.
Of course the Chancelleries will scoff at all this-they always laugh at any idea that wasn't born in a Legation, which accounts for their chronic smile. And maybe some of you may have your doubts at first-I don't blame you for hesitating while you work it out. But just think of all the cases you've known-doesn't it meet them exactly and explain the whole thing in a way that satisfies pure reason? Of course it does.
Have you ever seen a Taotai or a Chih-hsien go out to talk to a mob when there's a row on? It's an instructive sight. He doesn't do any talking-just walks down the street, with a peacock in a necromantic attitude on his chest-, and the crowd melts away. If he went in his chair he'd be pulled to pieces-but the P'utzu works like the charm. And Hung Wu knew his business when he put one behind as well as in front.
Have you ever seen a mandarin in a ball-room in England or America? I have; in fact, it was the way the women behaved to old Wu Ting-fang at Washington that set me on the track of P'utzu hypnotism. I'm told it's the same all over Europe; handsome, well-educated, decent women, the sort that we have to approach on our marrow bones, tumbling over each other and making themselves ridiculous for a glance of His Excellency's eye or a touch of his long-nailed fingers. I heard the other day of a leader of Boston society that ran around like a chicken with its head off because some of Tuan-fang's mission had accepted her invitation to dinner. And I've seen first season buds sitting out in conservatories with-well, let that pass.
And it isn't as if they didn't know all what they're doing. They know all right. The woman who marries a Chinese Secretary of Legation in Paris or Vienna knows all about the other three wives, and mother-in-law, and the sort of a m6nage she's getting-but the P'utzu's too much for her, and she just goes dazed to her doom.
Now think it out for yourselves-test my theory by your own knowledge. Wouldn't the reception given to Imperial Chinese Commissioners or Ministers in Europe or the States be very different if they left their clothes behind them-I mean if they wore clothes like ours! Of course you may say that we grovel because of the general splendour of their attire, their brocades, and furs, coral buttons and velvet boots, and that the P'utzu is only part of a sartorial mangificence which makes us feel ridiculous, and behave like poor relations, in their company. Well, that might be a point for argument with people who have never lived in China, but out here it certainly won't wash. Think lit out for yourselves, I say, and you'll soon come to see that the theory of strong hypnotic emanations from the P'utzu is the only one that accounts for the extraordinary behaviour of Europeans in dealing with Chinese officials. You've all felt an unaccountable flabbiness, a tendency to self-abasement and idiotic antics in the presence of Chinese officials-men that you often knew for no better than they ought to be, or than yourselves; you've tried to get over it or to account forit,andyou'vefailed. Butiustmakethosesameliterary prodigies take their coats off and you'll understand where the trouble lay. A good many swaggering fathers and mothers of the people would be underground if they did business in their shirt sleeves, or whatever a Chinaman wears under his illustrated cover.
Take any case that occurs to you-a riot compensation claim. a lekin squeeze, or a land case. We know all about them. The foreign press make a fuss, vengeance is vowed, and the air is thick with all the trouble that's going to happen. Then a special Deputy is appointed to discuss matters with the Consul. You know what happens after that; every one of you has got the performance in his mind's eye. Down comes a Taotal or a Faiital, waddling in the plethoric fat of professional wickedness, a creature whose (squeezing' is the talk of half a province, and whose only education consists in having learned by heart a lot of poppycock and then forgotten it. This monstrous survival of barbarism, who couldn't answer the questions of a kindergarten class, comes to discuss the case with the representative of Western civilisation. with a man who very possibly can boast of generations of educated and God-fearing ancestors behind him-and what happens? Old Hung Wu's necromancy comes out on top every time. That poor foredoomed Consul fixes his eye on the malevolent P'utzu bird and the game's up; he becomes an incoherent, posturing automaton, feebly imitating the foolishness of Chinese social etiquette, meekly listening to the sleek Confucianist's farrago of twaddle and bluff, forgetting everything except the unholy fascination of the P'utzu.
Of course, as in all cases of hypnotism, the effect is greatIer on some minds than on others. With women, and Frenchmen, and sinologues, it amounts to mental collapse; children and dogs, on the other hand, are comparatively immune. But I don't think I have ever met a case of a white man who could face a P'utzu and preserve all his selfrespect; the subtle influence of the thing invariably compels him to appear more or less overpowered by the Yellow Peril's condescension - to walk mincingly, drink vile champagne, and quote inane phrases from the Kuan Hua Chih Nan. And, mind you, the effect is permanent; once the eye of the P'utzu bird has entered a man's soul, he is mentally crippled for life. Which explains why you often hear respectable men, otherwise sane, loudly boastiiig of their intimacy with Chinese officials, as if they had achieved something wonderful.
I do not say, you will observe, that every mandarin is necessarily either a rogue or untruthful-the unexpected still happens, Heaven be praised!-but the pernicious influence of the P'Utzu is the same, no matter what may be the character of the man behind it, and it reduces the European mind to a state of gelatinous subserviency.
Cast your memory back over a few of the cases you have known, where the white man has come forth with all the righteous indignation of a just cause, and collapsed ignominiously for no apparent reason. Not to go too far back, think of the igoo Protocol with the victorious troops in the streets of Peking and their diplomatic representa tives confronting a lot of P'utzu-plastered Boxers. You know the result. Think of Sir James Mackay and jenks, and Sir Robert Hart and Teddy Roosevelt-I could quote a hundred more,-all the men whose great minds and good intentions have lately wilted under the baneful eye of Hung Wu's black-art birds!
One of the most remarkable cases I ever saw myself was at the funeral of the Viceroy Lul K'un-yi at Nanking. There were eleven Powers represented on that occasion, represented by Consuls in cocked hats and civil dignitaries of all sorts, with a fine assortment of naval and military officers-a show that would have been quite imposing in any European capital, but which, in the streets of Nanking, looked magnificently out of place. I assure you when we mustered at the Yam6ii, surrounded by thousands of squalid natives and all the tawdry pomp of a Chinese funeral, it was one of those international displays that one only sees in the Far East; and there were some white men there who had handled affairs and men all over the world with credit to themselves and their countries. Well, first of all we filed past the sorrowing relatives. They were in white sackcloth-no P'utzus about-and that part of the ceremony was dignified and impressive with a certain patriarchal quality of its own. Later on, however, when the cortege was formed, and especially in the evening, when a banquet was given, the P'utzus were let loose on that ill-fated band of representatives, and the rout was complete. I don't think I ever saw anything quite so ludicrous and humiliat- ing. Chang Chlh-tung was in the middle, with a golden pheasant on his chest, receiving obeisances, and the havoc that necromatic fowl made of the cocked hats and epaulettes was appalling. But every P'utzu had a foreigner or two following it, as Trilby followed Svengall. I got entangled in the suite of a silver pheasant myself, with an Austrian captain and a German Vice-Consul. (Here follows a description of several historic instances illustrative of the author's theory.)
Having discovered a truth, the next thing is to apply it-and here the application is obvious. All we've got to do is to arrange that the Walwupu and all provincial officials doing business with foreigners shall henceforth be persuaded to wear frock-coats and top-hats. We might give them back all the Boxer indemnity to buy a complete modern outfit, and it would be cheap at the price. If, deterred by the sight of the Japanese in European clothes, they kick at frock-coats, let them choose their own style and their own patterns-but the P'utzu ought to go.
Of course, as I said before, diplomatists will laugh at this, but sooner or later some one with less prejudice or more sense than the rest will give it a trial. And the Consul who first makes a mandarin do business with his coat off will never let him put it on again. Until then, we shall all go on shouting aimlessly into space, ignoring the cause of all our failures; and not until the simple truth is realised will any of our Treaties be of the slightest use.
Perhaps it will never be realised-there's nothing so conservative as diplomacy, nor so unwilling to listen to anything outside of its own traditions. In that case the P'utzu will swagger down the corridors of time, for ever getting in its deadly work on the unsuspecting foreigner. If so, I would support, as an alternative remedy, the proposal of my friend M'Alpine of the Scotch Colporteur Society, an eminently practical man. He recommends replacing the present expensive and ineffective Diplomatic Body by an ingeniously constructed set of clockwork figures with appropriate gestures, phonographic apparatus, and uniforms complete. The set of twelve (of best materials), in charge of a Scotch engineer (himself, I think), to be worked at a total cost of not more than &3ooo a year, the figures to be taken to the Waiwupu free of charge, singly or collectively according to political emergencies, at least once a week, and the interviews duly recorded and preserved. On this interesting suggestion Mr. M'Alpine will read a paper at the Society's next meeting. (Here the author goes off into missionary topics of no general interest.)

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