scribed in the school books of the children of Christendom, was in keeping with the metropolitan glories of the old capital, that the people venerated with a respect that Russians like to show toward Moscow; for to this day no Chinese feels that regard for Pekin, the home of their Tartar masters, that the Muscovites make a show of expressing for St. Petersburg.
The new Emperor on being crowned took the title of "Tai-ping-wang," "peaceful Emperor," and appointing eight of his most trusty officers as princes to govern under his immediate orders, retired to his sumptuous palace, there to work out his policy in comparative retirement, and plan out the future eventualities of his reign. A hundred millions of subjects acknowledged his sway, and a powerful army that had become accustomed to beat the imperialist troops were at his beck and nod.
The Tartar dynasty seemed doomed. A weak monarch sat in Pekin, the debauched victim of the opium pipe, while Lord Elgin was battering down the gates of his capital and the French were burning his most magnificent palace, and christian barbarians were reducing to a heap of ashes the finest library ever collected in his empire. The apathy of the Tartar forces was easy to understand; disheartened by overwhelming disasters, in a country at once torn into fragments by civil war, and trampled under the mailed foot by an invading host, a spark of energy on the part of Tai-ping-wang would have placed the poor student upon a throne that would have dazzled Cæsar.
But the stupor of the Tartars seemed to have also paralyzed the Tai-pings. One of those unforeseen providences, or chances, that the historian can but recount with amazement, occurred to change the whole course of events. The peasant that had raised himself from the dung-hill to the diadem, either turned giddy at his elevation, or what is more likely, became crazed by the tremendous ventures he had made as well as the appalling responsibilities now upon him, to win the great game of mastering one-third of the human race. For ten golden years he trifled with fortune with the childishness of an idiot. Days, months and years were passed and more than wasted in the composition of edicts, beneath the intellect of an intelligent boy. He declared himself brother of Jesus Christ, commanded the instant allegiance of all the sovereigns of the earth in his mandates, and instead of taking the field, amused his lunacy in applying abusive epithets to his enemies, calling them imps and demons! His chiefs were becoming alienated and his people soon wearied of his imperial nonsense. A crisis was evidently at hand that boded no good to the Tai-pings, who had given their enemies ample opportunity to marshal their forces, and above all secure the alliance of the great allied powers of Europe, at whose complete mercy the crown of China was held, be the head that wore it Chinese or Tartar. Such was the position of affairs when the writer in 1864 visited Nan-kin at the express invitation of undoubtedly the two most distinguished warriors in the Tai-ping ranks, Choong-wong and Kan-wong, two of the eight rebel princes.
Nan-kin lies nearly two hundred miles above the mouth of the Yang-tse river, on the right bank, more than twenty-five hundred miles from its source in the mountains of Thibet; ranges of lofty hills nearly surround it, while the soil and climate go to make this one of the most delightful parts of the empire. As our stately vessel neared the city, instead of the usual bustle and uproar of a Chinese port or a military station, nothing was to be seen but frowning ramparts, and fortifications bristling with cannon, but otherwise apparently deserted. A few wretched hovels built on
