next day, when Prince Kung, the Emperor's brother, forwarded a letter stating that he had been commissioned to arrange a peace and asking for the temporary suspension of hostilities to allow of a discussion of details. Lord Elgin replied to this communication with a somewhat stern letter in which he intimated that there could be no negotiations for peace until the prisoners in Chinese custody had been set free. Prince Kung was warned that if the prisoners were not sent back in safety the consequences would be most serious for the Chinese Government. Prince Kung was indisposed to accept the view that the prisoners must be released as a condition precedent to negotiation, and as after a week he showed no signs of yielding orders were given for the march of the expeditionary force to Peking. It was decided by the allied commanders to avoid the city itself, and to make the Summer Palace the objective. In pursuance of this plan the advance was continued, but on the way the British and French forces became separated, and though the arrangement was that the French should bring up the rear, they managed to get to the common destination first. Practically no opposition was met with by either portion of the force. The fact that on the approach of the invaders the Emperor had fled to Gehol was no doubt accepted by the complaisant officialdom as a sufficient reason why they should not continue the resistance. Whatever may be the truth on that point the surrender paved the way for the infliction of a blow on the imperial dignity the like of which had never before in its history been experienced. The despoiling of the Summer Palace was the first step in this humiliating process. Immediately the French arrived they promptly proceeded to sack the beautiful pavilions, scattering and destroying such of their contents as they could not take away. "It was pitiful to see the way in which everything was being robbed," wrote Sir Hope Grant in describing the scene which he witnessed on arrival at the Palace. The work of destruction once begun in this fashion could not be stopped, and soon little was left that was worth taking away. But even when the Palace had been stripped and left in a condition of forlorn desolation the heavy hand of the conqueror was not removed. The reckoning had to be paid for the outrage perpetrated on Mr. Parkes and his party. After the Allies had entered Peking an intimation was received through Mr. Parkes that he and his fellow prisoners, French and English, who had been detained in the Kaon Meaon Temple, near the Tehshun Gate, were to be surrendered on the 8th of October. The story they told was one which was calculated to fire the indignation of their countrymen. Insult upon insult had been heaped upon them, and outrage upon outrage, and no artifice was spared to induce them to be false to their country by furnishing information or using their influence to its disadvantage. Still, their lives had been spared, and in view of this fact and of the extreme anxiety displayed by Prince Kung, the representative of the Chinese Government with whom he had to deal to arrange a peace. Lord Elgin deemed it expedient not to press the matter too far. He did not know then the story of the other prisoners who had been separated from Mr. Parkes and Mr. Loch. That was a melancholy sequel reserved until the arrival of eight Sikhs and a Frenchman who were of the party which had been made captive after the seizure of Mr. Parkes and Mr. Loch. It appeared from the accounts of the Sikhs that the five Englishmen who were of the number had been bound with ropes and maltreated with fiendish ingenuity. Under the terrible strain Lieut. Anderson, one of the Dragoon officers, became delirious, and died on the ninth day of the captivity. A week later Mr. de Normann died, and he was followed to the grave at short intervals by the other Europeans. Such a monstrous crime against civilisation and humanity called aloud for vengeance, and Lord Elgin, though extremely anxious to conclude peace, decided that before terms could be settled some signal step must be taken to indicate to the Chinese populace the detestation in which the treatment of the prisoners was held by their countrymen. When the question of the character of the punitive act came to be considered there was no doubt entertained by the British representatives that the most striking and appropriate retribution which could be exacted was the destruction of the Summer Palace. Strangely enough, having regard to the earlier action of the French troops at the Palace, the French commander declined to be associated with this measure, the necessity for which he failed to recognise. Lord Elgin and Sir Hope Grant, however, were quite prepared to accept all responsibility, and in due course—on the 18th of October—the Summer Palace was set on fire and utterly destroyed. Nothing in the whole of the campaign more impressed the Chinese mind than this act of vengeance. "It was," wrote Lord Wolseley in his narrative of the war, "the stamp which gave an unmistakable reality to our work of vengeance, proving that Lord Elgin's last letter was no idle threat, and warning them of what they might expect in the capital itself unless they accepted our proffered terms. The Imperial Palace within the city still remained untouched; and if they wished to save the last remaining place for their master it behoved them to lose no time. I feel convinced that the burning of Yuen-min-yuen considerably hastened the final settlement of affairs and strengthened our ambassador's position." The arrangement of the peace terms, at all events, followed swiftly on the destruction of the palace. The circumstances under which the settlement was concluded were such as to leave an indelible impress upon the mind of the Chinese populace of the completeness of the victory won. To Mr. Parkes and Mr. Loch was entrusted the duty of selecting a suitable place for the ratification of the treaty. Riding through the streets of the city at the head of an escort of British and Sikh cavalry, they decided that the Hall of Ceremonies was the building best adapted for the purpose. The Chinese, who had recently seen the two officials as helpless captives, could not fail to have read in this triumphal entry, in which they figured as the leaders, a lesson not readily to be forgotten. Nor were they likely to have missed the significance of the selection by Lord Elgin and Baron de Gros as their place of temporary residence in Peking the palace of Prince Tsai, whose hostile action and attitude towards the Allies throughout had been particularly marked.
The ceremony of ratification took place on October 24th, amid every circumstance which could lend it importance. Lord Elgin proceeded in a chair of state to the Hall of Ceremonies accompanied by a brilliant suite, and also by Sir Hope Grant with an escort of one hundred officers and five hundred troops. Prince Kung, with an imposing body of Mandarins, attended to submit the necessary imperial authorisation to the conclusion of peace and to affix the imperial seal to the treaty. He was extremely nervous—"anxious and hesitating" was Mr. Loch's description of his attitude—but the general impression left was of an amiable young man who had passed through a trying ordeal with dignity. The work in connection with the treaty was not considered to be at an end until the Emperor's edict for its publication had been received from Gehol. That, however, only entailed a delay of a few days, and by the 9th of November the last of the allied troops had left Peking on their homeward journey. Lord Elgin also departed about the same time, leaving Mr. Frederick Bruce behind as first Resident
