business, having had no experience of the sort, and could not therefore agree to the proposals. But what he did agree to do was to write to Mr. Lay and see if something could not be done to bring Canton into line with Shanghai. The result of the correspondence, briefly put, was that Mr. Lay first offered Robert Hart a position as interpreter, which he refused, and later the post of Deputy-Commissioner of Customs at Canton, which he accepted. Of course he had meanwhile asked the British Government if he might resign from the Consular Service. Their reply gave the desired permission, but stipulated at the same time that he must not expect the acceptance of his resignation to imply that he might return to the British service whenever he pleased. Neither they nor he guessed then that he was beginning a work from which he would have no wish to turn back, or that it would be they who would finally beg him to return to their service, not as Consul, but as Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary.

CHAPTER III

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE IMPERIAL CHINESE CUSTOMS—A VISIT TO SIR FREDERICK BRUCE—THE SHERARD OSBORNE AFFAIR—APPOINTED INSPECTOR-GENERAL

When Robert Hart joined the Chinese Imperial Maritime Customs, the service was already four years old. 1854—the very year he passed through Shanghai on his way to Ningpo—saw its beginning as an international institution. A Chinese Superintendent had hitherto collected duties for his Government, but, owing to the capture of Shanghai by the rebels, affairs became so disorganized that he appealed to the three Consuls of Great Britain, France and the United States for help, and they responded by each appointing one of their nationals to assist him in securing an honest and efficient administration.

As far as the Chinese Government was concerned, the triumvirate gave immediate and entire satisfaction. Duties increased, smuggling diminished—all as a result of the new system, which was continued, by the express desire of the Chinese officials, even after the city was recaptured by the Imperial troops.

But the merchants on their side had no praise for an arrangement that cut large slices off their profits. They found it exceedingly annoying to be obliged to give the correct weight of their tea and silk under penalty of forfeiture; as for calmly landing and shipping their goods without permits, this was now out of the question. Yet what could they do to circumvent these innovations? Nothing—but put every conceivable difficulty, large and small, ingenious and obvious, in the way of the new inspectors.

The Frenchman presently withdrew, the American, a consular official, resigned in 1856, and the Englishman, Mr. (afterwards Sir Thomas) Wade, a sensitive man, unable to endure the social boycott imposed on him, did likewise. Mr. H.N. Lay, Vice-Consul and Interpreter in the British Consulate at Shanghai, was then appointed to succeed Mr. Wade, and, as the two other Powers concerned did not appoint successors to their original nominees, he thereafter managed Chinese Customs business alone.

Such, briefly told, is the history of the service which Robert Hart joined as Deputy-Commissioner at Canton in 1859 at the suggestion of the Canton Viceroy, Laou Tsung Kwang—which he was to build up and in which he was to make his great name and reputation. From the first he did better than well. He set to work at once on a series of regulations for Custom House management. They were greatly needed—all the internal arrangements of the infant service were in a chaotic condition—and they were also greatly praised. The Viceroy himself was delighted. Here was his own young protégé, by his diligence, by his practical business capacity, by his unusual willingness to accept responsibility and by the promises of administrative ability he was giving, proving himself the very man to make the newly organized Customs a success. The Viceroy had chosen better than he knew.

Two years—from 1859 to 1861—Robert Hart spent in Canton setting affairs in order and working very hard in a hot, damp climate. Curiously enough he was never ill, though many men of far greater physical strength, of far tougher build, wilted in that steaming atmosphere; he himself was always too busy, I think, for symptoms and sickness.

During those years he had an unexpected meeting with an old friend. Word having been brought to him that a ship from Macao was expected to load teas at Komchuk—a place inland not open to trade—he started off with a posse of tidewaiters on the revenue cruiser Cumfa, to seize her. She was a shabby little vessel; her paint was scratched, her name almost obliterated. Almost, but not quite; he was able to make out the word Shamrock at her bow, and on careful inquiry identified her as the very vessel on which he had travelled to England as a boy; but alas! a Shamrock fallen on evil days, dilapidated by doubtful adventures in distant seas, and debased to the low company of smugglers.

In 1861 chance, luck, or Providence—call it what you will—once again interfered in the humdrum routine of events to give Hart the opportunity he had come half-way across the world to meet. A riot broke out at Shanghai, and Mr. Lay, as he was walking down the main street, was attacked by a man with a long knife and so severely wounded that he was obliged to go to England on two years' leave in order to recover his health.

Two of his subordinates were made Officiating Inspector-Generals in his place: Fitzroy, formerly private secretary to Lord Elgin, at that time Shanghai Commissioner, and Robert Hart. Both men had excellent qualities; but while Fitzroy, who knew no Chinese, was content to remain at Shanghai, his more active and energetic colleague travelled to and fro establishing new offices.

The Tientsin Treaties having recently opened more ports to trade, and the Chinese Government having repeatedly approved of the golden stream of revenue pouring into their Treasury, Customs administration was extended up and down the coasts as fast as the ports could be declared "open"—to Ningpo, Foochow, Amoy, Swatow, Chinkiang, even so far north as Tientsin, and British, French or German Commissioners put in charge of each, in order that the original international character of the service might be preserved.

Most of these ports welcomed the new order of things; but at one, notably Hankow, difficulties arose, and Hart promptly started to clear them up. At the time of his going both Wuhu and Nanking, two cities on the Yangtsze, were still in the hands of the rebels, and the river-steamer captain warned his passengers that the ship would stop at Wuhu to get her papers from them. "Take my advice," said he, "and remain quietly in your cabin from the time we stop until we leave, for the rebels have the habit of coming on board, and were they to find a man like yourself, a Government agent on Government business, they would certainly take you ashore. They usually only look about the saloon, however, and do not examine the cabins, so you will be safe enough if you stay in yours."

Robert Hart gratefully accepted the advice, and, sitting on the edge of his bunk, listened to the rebels talking in the saloon outside, till, with a sigh of relief, he heard them leave the ship and allow her to proceed on her way. That the danger had been real enough the deserted river proved; terror of these same revolutionaries had swept the usually busy waterway clean of craft, and nothing further disturbed the quiet but the hoarse honk of wild geese and the whirring of ducks' wings.

At Hankow the Viceroy, Kwan Wen, was as friendly personally as he was obstinate officially. He did not desire to see the new system enforced. Again and again he politely told Robert Hart that he was wasting his