Such an organisation doubtlessly is burdensome to the tax-payer, but since so much is extracted, this is precisely what seems to me an incontestable proof of the great riches of this country. In spite of these abuses, misery and destitution are apparently not very prevalent. During the whole of my sojourn in China, there were hardly eight or ten who came to me begging, whilst in Egypt, a country reputed rich, one is constantly assailed with packs of beggars dinning in one’s ears: “Backsheesh,” “chavaga.”
It was about four in the afternoon when we entered the immense village of Toun-cheh-ouh, on the banks of the Peiho.
We were entertained at the house of a young Chinese full of health and embonpoint, reminding one a little of the exaggerated round figure of Mr. Punch, but a thoroughly good fellow, and one fond of good living in every way. He served us a dinner à la russe, which I found to my taste, after the detestable cuisine of the Chinese cook-shop.
Immediately after this repast my companions went to embark for Tien-tsin, and I accompanied them as far as the river. On the way M. Schévélof gave all the necessary instructions to my host to enable him to provide for my safe journey on the morrow to Pekin.
When these tea merchants arrived at the port, they entered into one of the barges moored to the shore, in the middle of whose decks is raised a construction for passengers, resembling somewhat that of the Venetian gondola. We wished one another good-bye and pleasant journeys, and off they went. These merchants in departing from my sight dropped completely the curtain between me and the Empire of the Czars, and I turned mine eyes from Siberia, a country over which, in spite of its fertility and auriferous riches, a bird of prey seemed to be continually hovering. Therefore, on seeing the last ties that held me, though only remotely, to this unfortunate land of exile and sorrow cut away, I felt relieved from an oppression, notwithstanding the singular position in which I found myself among these bulb-shaped Chinese. I could say nothing whatever to my host. Even Pablo’s talent in expressing himself in pantomime became quite insufficient to penetrate the limited intelligence of the Buddhist with whom I was lodged. I could not close an eye the whole night on account of the repeated attacks of an army of fleas, that annoyed me with their scouts in every quarter, drawn out probably by a change of diet in which they revelled; and again on account of the night watch, whose duty it was to make a row to frighten away thieves, according to the Chinese custom, which I first became acquainted with at Krasnoiarsk. The next day my host could not provide me with a palanquin before one in the afternoon. I was, however, very glad that he had even so far complied with the instructions of M. Schévélof, for if he had been disposed to keep me at his house some time, I really do not know how I could have managed to have got out of it again. Just as I was going away I gave a trifle to one of the servants: the master perceiving it called all the servants together, who came and knelt before me and touched the ground with their foreheads. However familiar a European may be with Oriental manners, he can never regard without a pang such a spectacle of slavish humility. I jumped into my palanquin as quickly as possible, and took leave of my host, not in offering my hand, which is not in accordance with Chinese custom, but in pressing my hands together, and moving them two or three times in a line perpendicular to my chest. I understood, with satisfaction, that this obliging man recommended my mule driver to conduct me to the French Embassy; then we started, Pablo and I, towards the capital of the Celestial Empire.
Whilst I was journeying under a burning sun over this road, covered with thick dust, in the abominable vehicle called a palanquin, three young horsemen, whom I shall present to the reader, galloped by without drawing rein between Tien-tsin and Pekin.
The distance is thirty-two leagues, and they would accomplish it in a day. They had, certainly, no time to lose. Having left Tien-tsin at four in the morning, they had stopped an hour in a village to breakfast and change horses: at the time I was leaving Toun-cheh-ouh, they had just begun the second stage. In order to go from Paris to Pekin, these three young French travellers had not braved the hardships of a Siberian winter, nor the monotony of a sledge, nor the discomfort of a Chinese vehicle; and yet their adventures were as interesting as mine. They had been through India: they had been received in the palaces of the nabobs of that country, far more attractive I should say than those of the gold hunters of the North: they had hunted wild beasts in Ceylon and Java, chased the elephant in the virgin forests of Malacca, and continuing their hardy course, they thought it a mere trifle to do thirty-two leagues a day, intending, if circumstances admitted of it, to resume their journey at the same speed.
The first of these three young men—one of my best friends, who, whilst we were travelling a few miles apart on the plain of Pekin, I thought was in Paris—was the Baron Benoist Méchin; his two comrades were the Viscomte de Gouy d’Arsy and Monsieur Guillaume Jeannel. They arrived at the legation as I came in sight of the fortifications of the capital of China.
At this sight I felt quite a glow of enthusiasm. The longer one has had an object in view, and the more efforts he has made to attain it, the greater is the joy on reaching it at last. It is difficult to find anything grander and more boldly constructed than the first wall of Pekin. It is a wall of imposing elevation, crenelated, and perfectly regular. Here and there fortresses are raised above principal gates, rising to three or four stories, and roofed in green porcelain, that glitters in the sun. The gates are of bronze, and gigantic: they are closed at night, and at certain hours of the day.
I did not enter the city without feeling a thrill of emotion. I had to pass over some irregular space scattered over with low, unsightly habitations; then I entered into the populous quarter; finally, under a dome of foliage I perceived a wooden gate, elegantly sculptured with two marble lions, above which I could read, “Légation de France.” I had at last accomplished my journey from Paris to Pekin overland.