But the Viceroy’s answer is worth recording.  “You have asked me my opinion on many matters,” said old Tseun.  “Some of these must be settled direct with the Wai-Wu-Pu (the Foreign Office at Peking).  But I will tell you this much now.  Whatever is good for Chinese and foreigners I will support; whatever is good for foreigners and does not harm Chinese I will approve; but whatever is bad for Chinese, no matter how good it is for foreigners, I will die rather than consent to.”  In this grand old statesman’s confession of his political faith it is good to find a convincing answer to the arguments of those who pretend that there are no patriots in China.

Robert Hart’s next mission was to Peking itself, the grey, wall-ringed mediaeval city where he was afterwards to spend so many years, and where he stayed with Sir Frederick Bruce at the British Legation—­then, as now, housed in a fine old Chinese building.

[Illustration:  A VIEW OF PEKING SHOWING CONDITION OF ROADS.]

Sir Frederick Bruce was a most striking type of man, like a straight, healthy tree, most cordial in manner, with a beautiful voice that made even oaths sound like splendid oratory, a keen intelligence flavoured with a pinch of humour, and a great gift of diplomatic suavity.

Between himself and young Robert Hart a bond of friendship rapidly grew—­strong enough to bear the lapse of time and even the occasional bursts of frank criticism to which the host treated his guest.  At least on one occasion it was very sharp indeed.  Hart and another young man (afterwards Sir Robert Douglas) had gone riding in the outer city of Peking on the fifth of the fifth moon—­a feast day—­when, on their way home, a yelling mob collected around them, shouting disrespectful names and even throwing things at them.  True, they did it all in a spirit of playfulness, but a moment or a trifle might easily have turned mischief into malice, and, realizing this, Hart pulled up at one of the shops in the big street and asked the shopkeeper, a respectable greybeard, to tell the crowd not to pass his shop door.

“But,” said the old fellow, “we have nothing to do with these people.”

“I know that,” was the reply, “but if they misbehave themselves I shall not be able to report them, because they are vagabonds who will disappear into the holes and corners of the city.  They would be impossible to find again, but you are a man with a fixed place of residence; it will be easy enough to find you.  I see, by the way, your shop is called ‘Renewed Affluence’ on the signboard.  And if you plead that the affair was no business of yours, people will never believe that a word from a respectable man like yourself would not suffice to control a crowd of ragamuffins.”

Hart’s use of this argument, so peculiarly Chinese in its reasoning, showed how well he already understood the character of the people—­how well he appreciated the underlying principle of their community life, the responsibility of a man for his neighbour’s behaviour.  The shopkeeper was, of course, duly impressed.  He spoke to the crowd and they melted away.