[Illustration: All that is seen of the Forbidden City.]
And now we stand under the walls of the Forbidden City. They are covered with Imperial yellow tiles, a deep moat surrounds them, and they are guarded by bannermen. There are but two entrances. There, straight before us is the Coal Hill, surmounted by a pavilion, within which the last of the Ming dynasty terminated the life of himself and his Imperial house, when the victories of the Tartar invader, the capture of the capital, the submission of the provinces, were completed. It is an artificial mound, 150 feet high, and as we proceed round the square of the walls, we see behind, amid the woods, the five summits, crowned with the five gleaming roofs of peacock blue, green and yellow of the pavilions and temples of the Prohibited City. Within its walls are a park and lake.
Little else is to be seen beyond the upper walls and the yellow roofs of the palaces. There are many of them, none apparently of great size. But in the centre hall is seated Kwang-Su, "The Son of Heaven," "The Lord of ten thousand years." The youth of twenty-two, who in his sixth year, upon "His Majesty the Emperor Tung-che suddenly ascending upon the Dragon to be a guest on high," was called unexpectedly, like our own Queen Victoria, from his bed in a distant part of the city to be saluted, in default of a direct heir, as Emperor of China. Is he the happier? The Imperial life must be dull and monotonous beyond bearing for one so young. In the Forbidden City his Majesty must find all his distractions. To go into the provinces would thrice beggar the exchequer.
There is the Hall of Highest Peace, where his Majesty gave rare audience to the representatives of foreign powers. Once only! and what negotiations it took to bring about! At length, yes! the Son of Heaven would let the envoys of the outer world look on him. But they must "kotow" thrice on their knees, touch the ground with their foreheads, and let the Chinese people take it as the bearing of tribute. No, the British Lion, and the eagles of Monarchs and Republics, cannot bend the knee. The point is carried at length. "But," says the Council of State, "it is only in that outer pavilion that our Lord Buddha will greet you."