at she, too, was a creature of circumstances,
when her ill-judged policy compelled her a second time to seek
safety in flight? A helpless fugitive, how could she conceive that
fortune held in reserve for her brighter days than she had ever
experienced?

Accepting the situation and returning with the Emperor, the Empire
and the world accepted her, and, taught by experience, she engaged
in the congenial task of renovating the Chinese people. Advancing
years, consciousness of power, and willing conformity to the freer
usages of European courts, all conspired to lead her to throw aside
the veil and to appear openly as the chief actor on this imperial
stage.

Six years ago her seventieth birthday was celebrated with great
pomp, although she had forbidden her people to be too lavish in
their loyalty. At Wuchang, Tuan Fang, who was acting viceroy, gave
a banquet at which he asked me to make a speech in the Dowager's
honor. The task was a delicate one for a man who had borne the
hardships of a siege in 1900; but I accepted it, and excused the
Dowager on the principle of British law, that "The king can do no
[Page 275]
wrong." Throwing the blame on her ministers, I pronounced a eulogy
on her talents and her public services.

The question arises, did we know her in person and character? Have
we not seen her in that splendid portrait executed by Miss Carl,
and exhibited at St. Louis? If we suspect the artist of flattery,
have we not a gallery of photographs, in which she shows herself
in many a majestic pose? Is flattery possible to a sunbeam? We
certainly see her as truly as we see ourselves in a mirror!

As to character, it is too soon to express an opinion. _Varium
et mutabile semper femina_.

To pencil and sunbeam add word-pictures by men and women from whose
critical eyes she did not conceal herself; and we may confidently
affirm that we knew her personal appearance as well as we knew that
of any lady who occupies or shares a European throne. A trifle
under the average height of European ladies, so perfect were her
proportions and so graceful her carriage that she seemed to need
nothing to add to her majesty. Her features were vivacious and
pleasing rather than beautiful; her complexion, not yellow, but
subolive, and her face illuminated by orbs of jet, half-hidden
by dark lashes, behind which lurked the smiles of favour or the
lightning of anger. No one would take her to be over forty. She
carried tablets on which,