expressed his intention not to go. One of the leading Mandarins thereupon took him somewhat roughly by the arm with the object apparently of compelling him to proceed. The Ambassador shaking himself free stated that nothing short of the exercise of violence would induce him to wait on the Emperor at that time. Finding that Lord Amherst was inflexible in his determination the Chinese authorities without more ado issued orders for the immediate return of the mission. The instructions were carried out to the letter. Though tired and indisposed the Ambassador and his suite the next day were despatched along the route by which they had travelled with a haste which can only be described as indecent. As was remarked at the time, the Chinese treatment of the mission "comported more with the barbarity of a Tartar camp than with conduct which could have been expected even from the most uncivilised of crown heads." The mission made its way to Canton overland passing down the Grand Canal and over the famous Meling Pass. As it receded from the capital the bearing of the Chinese officials towards it improved. The Mandarin in charge of it showed the utmost deference and at every military fort that the travellers passed honours were paid them. The Embassy arrived at Canton on New Year's Day, 1817, and it embarked for home on the 20th of January following. Misfortune dogged its steps to the end. On the way through the China Sea, when off the island of Pulo Leat, the Alceste struck on a sunken rock and foundered. No lives were sacrificed, but Lord Amherst and his suite lost all their belongings, including the presents which they were conveying home. They arrived in England at last with a very substantial bill of expenses for the nation to liquidate, but with very little else to their record. It is a moot point whether in any circumstances good would have come from the mission. The Emperor Kiaking was a different type of man to Kienlung who had received Lord Macartney. He was a despot of a very narrow type—haughty, cruel, and capricious. He entertained an unrelenting hatred towards the "outer barbarians," and never missed an opportunity of displaying that dislike. Still, there were circumstances in connection with the arrangements for the mission which appeared to indicate that the imperial mind might have been influenced in the right direction if Lord Amherst had humoured the Emperor's whim of summoning him to an immediate interview. Kiaking was so far complaisant that he was willing to receive the Ambassador with the English ceremonial which had marked his predecessor's reception of Lord Macartney, and there is good reason to think that his command for Lord Amherst to attend upon him directly after his arrival was due not so much to an intention to show disrespect to the mission as to a desire to satisfy a curiosity to see the strangers. An opportunity was undoubtedly missed, and though Lord Amherst's action was supported by Sir George Staunton and other expert authorities on Chinese affairs in his suite, it is impossible not to feel that the situation was not handled with the tactfulness which it demanded. Whatever degree of responsibility may have attached personally to the Ambassador for the failure of the mission, the result was accepted as decisive at home. "It may, we think, be clearly inferred," observed the Court of Directors in their review of the mission, "that in the event of future disagreements with the Viceroy of Canton, no dependence can be placed on the efficacy of an embassy, though appointed and commissioned by the Crown."
(From Allom & Wright's "China.")
As the previous history of British relations with the Chinese authorities must have led the trading community at Canton to expect, there was no alleviation in the local situation as a result of the mission. On the contrary the condition of affairs grew appreciably worse as the years passed by and it became clearer that no effectual bar could be opposed to the high-handed actions of the Mandarins. After a series of incidents of a familiar character matters reached something like a crisis in 1821. On the 15th of December in that year some seamen from the British warship Topaze were attacked while ashore at Lintin by a large mob of Chinese, and several of the men were wounded. In order to effect the re-embarkation of the party, the officer in command of the frigate fired some round shot and sent two cutters manned and armed to protect the barge conveying the seamen from the shore. The incident on being reported to the Chinese authorities elicited from them a demand that the wounded men should be sent ashore for examination. Very naturally Captain Richardson of the Topaze declined to entertain the proposal, and he further emphatically rejected a suggestion that was put forward that the men who had fired the shots (which had resulted in the death of two men) should be handed over to the Chinese power. The Canton authorities, finding that nothing was to be obtained from Captain Richardson, stopped the trade and endeavoured by coercing the Select Committee to obtain an acceptance of their demands. The position now became so threatening that the Company's treasure was removed from Canton to Whampoa, and preliminary measures were taken for the removal of the English community from the city. Before embarking, the Committee, on the 10th of January, addressed a letter to the Viceroy stating that they had no control over His Majesty's ships, but that as they had been held responsible they had accordingly determined to quit China. The Viceroy in reply to an application for permission to ship goods, stated that he would not allow so much as "a thread of silk or the down of a plant" to be embarked until the foreign murderers were delivered up by the chief. The British traders on leaving Canton proceeded to Chuenpee, from which place the negotiations were continued for some little time. On the 8th of February the Topaze sailed and with her departure events took a more favourable turn. Finally, on an assurance being given that the whole affair would be reported by Captain Richardson to the Home Government who would apportion the blame, the Viceroy, on February 22nd, issued an edict re-opening trade. Three days later the establishment returned to Canton, their arrival there being followed by the issue of a supplementary edict of considerable length containing a gross travesty of the facts bearing upon the Lintin affair. On a report of the incident reaching England, the Government issued orders that in future during peace none of the ships of the navy should visit any port in China, excepting on a requisition from the Governor-General of India, or from the Select Committee of supercargoes at Canton. The Court, in forwarding a copy of these instructions to Canton, urged that only in a case of extreme necessity should a requisition be made for a warship. They intimated that they intended to give the most express orders to the captains of their ships as to the custody of firearms, with a view to rendering impossible their unauthorised use by members of the crew. It was hoped that with this action the inconvenient spectre of Lintin had been laid, but from time to time rumbling echoes of the affair were heard, and in 1827, on the appointment of a new Viceroy, the question was re-opened, and for a time threatened to give rise to new trouble. The firm attitude assumed by the Committee, however, had eventually the desired effect of bringing the authorities to see that nothing was to be gained by continuing the controversy.
Though for their own reasons Chinese officials might allow a particular incident to pass into oblivion nothing apparently could change their rooted hostility to the foreign
