Great wits jump. The very same idea had not long before struck the
celestial intellect of China. Amongst the presents carried out by our
first embassy to that country was a state-coach. It had been specially
selected as a personal gift by George III; but the exact mode of using
it was an intense mystery to Pekin. The ambassador, indeed (Lord
Macartney), had made some imperfect explanations upon this point; but,
as His Excellency communicated these in a diplomatic whisper at the
very moment of his departure, the celestial intellect was very feebly
illuminated, and it became necessary to call a cabinet council on the
grand state question, "Where was the Emperor to sit?" The hammer-cloth
happened to be unusually gorgeous; and, partly on that consideration,
but partly also because the box offered the most elevated seat, was
nearest to the moon, and undeniably went foremost, it was resolved by
acclamation that the box was the imperial throne, and, for the
scoundrel who drove,--he might sit where he could find a perch. The
horses, therefore, being harnessed, solemnly his imperial majesty
ascended his new English throne under a flourish of trumpets, having
the first lord of the treasury on his right hand, and the chief jester
on his left. Pekin gloried in the spectacle; and in the whole flowery
people, constructively present by representation, there was but one
discontented person, and _that_ was the coachman.
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