He sat with his hands flat on the table, waiting for the storm of protest which he guessed was coming from Gros, and perhaps as much from pique at not being consulted beforehand, as from genuine disapproval, the normally amiable little Frenchman weighed in like a good 'un.
"Milor'! I am astonished! It grieves me extremely to have to disagree with your lordship before these gentlemen assembled, but I cannot accept this … this extraordinary proposal! It … it … appears to me to have no relevance, this! It is … unthinkable." He took a deep breath. "I must beg your lordship to reconsider!"
"I have, monsieur le baron," says Elgin quietly. "With great care, I assure you."
"But … forgive me, milor', you appear to contradict your-self! You say we must punish the Emperor—with which I and all agree—but not the people of China! Yet you propose the destruction, the desecration of a … a national shrine of China, the repository of its ancient civilisation, its art, its culture, its genius, its learning!" He was in full Gallic spate by now, all waving hands and eyebrows, bouncing in his chair. "What is this but an insult, of the most gross, to the very soul of China?"
"If it were that, I should not have proposed it," says Elgin. "The Summer Palace is not a shrine of any kind, unless to Imperial luxury and vanity. It is the Emperor's private pleasure park, and not one of the millions of ordinary Chinese has ever been inside it, or cares a straw for it and its treasures. If they think of it at all, it must be as a monument to human greed, built on extortion and suffering. China has bled to make that place, and China will not weep for its loss, believe me, monsieur le baron."
The fact that he said this as though he'd been reading the minutes of the last meeting, did nothing to cool Gros's indignation. He gasped for breath, and found it.
"And the treasures, then? Are they nothing? The irreplaceable works of art, the sublime craftsmanship, the priceless carvings and paintings and jewellery? Are they to be vandalised, to signal our abhorrence of the crime of a few guilty noblemen? Are we to punish their barbarism by an act infinitely more barbaric? By destroying a thing of infinite beauty, of incalculable value? It is … it is out of all proportion, milor'!"
"Out of proportion?" For the first time there was a touch of colour on Elgin's cheek, but his voice was even quieter than before. "That is a matter of opinion. A few moments ago you and I, monsieur le baron, looked on something which had been infinitely more beautiful, and of incalculably greater value than anything ever created by a Chinese architect: the body of a soldier of the Queen. His name was Ayub Khan. You saw what Chinese civilisation had done to him —"
"Milor', that is not just!" Gros was on his feet, white-faced. "You know very well I am as enraged as yourself at the atrocities committed upon our people! But I ask you, what can it profit your good soldier, or any other of those martyred, to take revenge in this fashion, by destroying … something with which they, and their deaths, had nothing to do?"
"Please, sir, take your seat again," says Elgin rising, "and with it my assurance that I intended no reflection on your humanity or your concern for our dead comrades." Didn't you, though, thinks I. He waited until Gros had sat down again. "There is no way to profit, or adequately to avenge them. My purpose is to punish their murderers in a way that will best bring down their pride and publish their infamy. That is why I shall burn the Summer Palace, unless your excellency can suggest a suitable alternative."
Poor Gros stared at him helplessly, and waved his hands. "If it seems good to destroy some building—why, then, let it be the Board of Punishments, where the crimes were committed! What could be more fitting?"
"I've heard that suggestion," says Elgin dryly. "It emanated, I believe, from the Russian Mission at Pekin—to burn the Board and erect a suitable memorial on the site to Chinese perfidy. I can think of nothing better calculated to inflame hatred of our two countries among ordinary Chinese. I hesitate, of course, to conclude that that is why the Russians suggested it. You would say, monsieur le baron?"
"Only … only …" Gros shrugged in real distress. "Ah, milor', you think only of the effect on the Emperor and the others! But consider another effect—on the honour of our countries and ourselves! Think how such an act will be regarded in the world! It is not the Emperor of China who will be disgraced by what all civilised peoples must see as a … as a barbarism, grassier, incivilisé! Are we to bear the brand of Attila and Alaric, merely to punish the Emperor's vanity?" And possibly encouraged by the approving cries of his own folk, and the doubtful looks of some of ours, the silly ass put his great Frog foot right in it. "Ah, surely, milor', you of all men must be aware of what … of what public opinion …" Realising his gaffe, he broke off, shaking his head. "Ah, Dieu! The destruction of precious works of art is not well regarded!" he finished snappishly.
Even the other Frogs were trying to look elsewhere; Parkes, beside me, sighed and murmured something about "Gros by name and nature, what?" Well, everyone knew how Elgin's guvnor had stripped half Greece of statuary; even then Elgin Marbles was a slogan of outrage among Hellenic enthusiasts. The only person present who didn't seem to mind was Elgin himself. For the first time in days, he absolutely grinned.
"I had no notion," says he affably, "from the conduct of your troops at the Ewen-ming-ewen, that such a sentiment prevailed in France —"
"Milor'!" Montauban was wattling furiously, but Elgin didn't mind him.
"If stigma there be," he went on, talking straight to Gros, "I shall be content to bear it alone, if I must. It will be a small thing compared to the wound dealt to the pride and false glory of the creature who calls himself Emperor of China."
"And if it wounds him, as you hope," cries Gros. "If you so disgrace him in the eyes of his subjects, have you considered it may mean the downfall of the Manchoo dynasty?" He was on his feet again, all frosty dignity. Elgin rose with him, all John Bull.
"If I thought that, monsieur le baron," says he, "I should be in the Summer Palace this minute, with a torch and a bundle of straw. Alas, I fear it will have no such consequence."
Gros bowed stiffly. "Milor' Elgin, I must officially inform you that my government cannot associate itself with a policy which we must consider ill-advised, disproportionate, and—I have to say it, deeply as I deplore the necessity … uncivilised." He looked Elgin in the eye. "Monsieur, it is cruel."
"Yes, sir," says Elgin quietly. "It's meant to be."
When the French had stalked off, Elgin sat down and passed a hand across his forehead; suddenly he looked very tired. "Aye, weel," says he heavily, "a stoot he'rt tae a stae brae—eh, Loch? Now, Grant, which troops shall do the work?"
They settled on Michel's division, the destruction to begin two days hence. Loch was instructed to write the letter of information to Prince Kung, and the proclamation for general distribution; I was interested that neither referred to the deaths of our people, but only to the Emperor's treachery and bad faith—that, officially, was why the Summer Palace was to be destroyed, to show "that no individual, however exalted, could escape the responsibility and punishment which must always follow acts of falsehood and deceit."
"Here endeth the lesson," says Parkes to me. "He means to rub it into the Emperor, rather."
"The Emperor don't know a dam' thing about it," says I. "The fellow's an idiot—probably a dead idiot, by now."
"You don't really care for this, do you?" says he, eyeing me.