Across Asia on a Bicycle Part 9

"Well, gentlemen," he said at last, through Mr. Tenney as interpreter, "you don't look any the worse for your long journey."

"We are glad to hear your excellency say so," we replied; "it is gratifying to know that our appearance speaks well for the treatment we have received in China."

We hope our readers will consider the requirements of Chinese etiquette as sufficient excuse for our failure to say candidly that, if we looked healthy, it was not the fault of his countrymen.

"Of all the countries through which you have pa.s.sed, which do you consider the best?" the viceroy then asked.

In our answer to this question the reader would no doubt expect us to follow etiquette, and say that we thought China was the best; and, perhaps, the viceroy himself had a similar expectation. But between telling a positive lie, and not telling the truth, there is perhaps sufficient difference to shield us from the charge of gross inconsistency.

We answered, therefore, that in many respects, we considered America the greatest country we had seen. We ought of course to have said that no reasonable person in the world would ever think of putting any other country above the Celestial Empire; our bluntness elicited some surprise, for the viceroy said:

"If then you thought that America was the best why did you come to see other countries?"

"Because until we had seen other countries," we replied, "we did not know that America was the best." But this answer the viceroy evidently considered a mere subterfuge. He was by no means satisfied.

"What was your real object in undertaking such a peculiar journey?" he asked rather impatiently.

"To see and study the world and its peoples," we answered; "to get a practical training as a finish to a theoretical education. The bicycle was adopted only because we considered it the most convenient means of accomplishing that purpose."

The viceroy, however, could not understand how a man should wish to use his own strength when he could travel on the physical force of some one else; nor why it was that we should adopt a course through central Asia and northwestern China when the southern route through India would have been far easier and less dangerous. He evidently gave it up as a conundrum, and started out on another line.

"Do you consider the Shah of Persia a powerful monarch?" was his next question.

"Powerful, perhaps, in the Oriental sense," we replied, "but very weak in comparison with the Western nations. Then, too, he seems to be losing the power that he does have-he is compelled to play more and more into the hands of the Russians."

"Do you think that Russia will eventually try to take possession of Persia?" the viceroy interrupted.

"That, of course, is problematical," we answered, with the embarra.s.sment men of our age might feel at being instigated to talk politics with a prime minister. "What we do know, for certain, is that Russia is now, with her Transcaspian railroad, within about forty miles of Meshed, the capital of Persia's richest province of Khorasan; that she now has a well-engineered and, for a great portion of the way, a macadamized road to that city across the Kopet Dagh mountains from Askabad, the capital of Russian Transcaspia; and that half that road the Persians were rather forcibly invited to construct."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. LIANG, EDUCATED IN THE UNITED STATES, NOW IN THE SHIPPING BUSINESS.]

"Do you think," again interrupted the viceroy, whose interest in the Russians now began to take a more domestic turn, "that the Russians would like to have the Chinese province of Ili?"

To this question we might very appropriately have said, "No"; for the reason that we thought Russia had it already. She is only waiting to draw it in, when she feels certain that her Siberian flank is better protected.

The completion of the Transsiberian railroad, by which troops can be readily transported to that portion of her dominion, may change Russia's att.i.tude toward the province of Ili. We did not, however, say this to his excellency. We merely replied that we believed Russia was seldom known to hold aloof from anything of value, which she thought she could get with impunity. As she was now sending cart-load after cart-load of goods over the border, through Ili, into northern and western China, without paying a cent of customs duty, while on the other hand not even a leaf of tea or thread of cotton pa.s.sed over the Russian line from China without the payment of an exorbitant tariff; and as she had already established in Kuldja a postal, telegraph, and Cossack station, it would seem that she does not even now view the province of Ili as wholly foreign to the Russian empire.

At this the viceroy cleared his throat, and dropped his eyes in thoughtful mood, as much as to say: "Ah, I know the Russians; but there is no help for it."

At this point we ventured to ask the viceroy if it were true, as we had been informed, that Russia had arranged a treaty with China, by which she was ent.i.tled to establish consuls in several of the interior provinces of the Chinese empire, but he evaded the question with adroitness, and asked:

"Didn't you find the roads very bad in China?"

This question was creditable to the viceroy's knowledge of his own country, but to this subject we brought the very best Chinese politeness we could muster. We said that inasmuch as China had not yet adopted the bicycle, her roads, of course, were not adapted to that mode of locomotion.

The viceroy then asked us to describe the bicycle, and inquired if such a vehicle did not create considerable consternation among the people.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CHINESE SEEDING-DRILL.]

We told him that the bicycle from a Chinese point of view was capable of various descriptions. On the pa.s.sports given us by the Chinese minister in London the bicycle was called "a seat-sitting, foot-moving machine." The natives in the interior had applied to it various epithets, among which were _yang ma_ (foreign horse), _fei-chay_ (flying-machine), _szudzun chay_ (self-moving cart), and others. The most graphic description, perhaps, was given by a Chinaman whom we overheard relating to his neighbors the first appearance of the bicycle in his quiet little village.

"It is a little mule," said he, "that you drive by the ears, and kick in the sides to make him go." A dignified smile overspread the viceroy's features.

"Didn't the people try to steal your money?" he next inquired.

"No," we replied. "From our impoverished appearance, they evidently thought we had nothing. Our wardrobe being necessarily limited by our mode of travel, we were sometimes reduced to the appearance of traveling mendicants, and were often the objects of pity or contempt. Either this, or our peculiar mode of travel, seemed to dispel all thought of highway robbery; we never lost even so much as a b.u.t.ton on our journey of over three thousand miles across the Chinese empire."

"Did the governors you met treat you well?" he asked; and then immediately added: "Being scholars, were you not subjected to some indignity by being urged to perform for every mandarin you met?"

"By nearly all the governors," we said, "we were treated very kindly indeed; but we were not so certain that the same favors would have been extended to us had we not cheerfully consented to give exhibitions of bicycle riding."

There was now a lull in the conversation. The viceroy shifted his position in his chair, and took another whiff from the long, slender Chinese pipe held to his mouth by one of his body-servants. One whiff, and the pipe was taken away to be emptied and refilled. After a short respite he again resumed the conversation, but the questions he now asked were of a personal nature. We enumerate a few of them, without comment, only for the purpose of throwing some additional light on the character of our questioner.

"About how much did the trip cost you? Do you expect to get back all or more than you spent? Will you write a book?

"Did you find on your route any gold or silver deposits?

"Do you like the Chinese diet; and how much did one meal cost you?

"How old are you? [One of the first questions a Chinese host usually asks his guest.] Are you married? What is the trade or profession of your parents? Are they wealthy? Do they own much land?" (A Chinaman's idea of wealth is limited somewhat by the amount of land owned.)

"Will you telegraph to your parents from Shanghai your safe arrival there?

"Were you not rash in attempting such a journey? Suppose you had been killed out in the interior of Asia, no one would ever have heard of you again.

"Are you Democrats or Republicans?" (The viceroy showed considerable knowledge of our government and inst.i.tutions.)

"Will you run for any political office in America? Do you ever expect to get into Congress?

"Do you have to buy offices in America?" was the last inquiry.

There was considerable hesitancy on the part of us both to answer this question. Finally we were obliged to admit that sometimes such was the case. "Ah," said the viceroy, "that is a very bad thing about American politics." But in this censure he was even more severe on his own country than America. Referring to ourselves in this connection, the viceroy ventured to predict that we might become so well-known as the result of our journey that we could get into office without paying for it. "You are both young," he added, "and can hope for anything."

During the conversation the viceroy frequently smiled, and sometimes came so near overstepping the bounds of Chinese propriety as to chuckle. At first his reception was more formal, but his interest soon led him to dispense with all formality, and before the close of the interview the questions were rapidly asked and discussed. We have had some experience with examining attorneys, and an extended acquaintance with the American reporter; but we are convinced that for genuine inquisitiveness Li-Hung-Chang stands peerless. We made several attempts to take leave, but were interrupted each time by a question from the viceroy. Mr. Tenney, in fact, became fatigued with the task of interpreting, so that many of the long answers were translated by the viceroy's son.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CHINESE BRIDE.]

The interview was conducted as nearly as possible in the foreign fashion.

We smoked cigarettes, and a bottle of champagne was served. Finally the interview was brought to a close by a health from the viceroy to "Ta-ma-quo" (the great American country).

In conclusion we thanked the viceroy for the honor he had done us. He replied that we must not thank him at all; that he was only doing his duty. "Scholars," said he, "must receive scholars."

The viceroy rose from his chair with difficulty; the servant took him by the elbows and half lifted him to his feet. He then walked slowly out of the room with us, and across the courtyard to the main exit. Here he shook us heartily by the hand, and bowed us out in the Chinese manner.

Li-Hung-Chang is virtually the emperor of the Celestial Empire; the present "Son of Heaven" (the young emperor) has only recently reached his majority. Li-Hung-Chang is China's intellectual height, from whom emanate nearly all her progressive ideas. He stands to-day in the light of a mediator between foreign progressiveness and native prejudice and conservatism. It has been said that Li-Hung-Chang is really anti-foreign at heart; that he employs the Occidentals only long enough for them to teach his own countrymen how to get along without them. Whether this be so or not, it is certain that the viceroy recognizes the advantages to be derived from foreign methods and inventions, and employs them for the advancement of his country. Upon him rests the decision in nearly all the great questions of the empire. Scarcely an edict or doc.u.ment of any kind is issued that does not go over his signature or under his direct supervision. To busy himself with the smallest details is a distinctive characteristic of the man. Systematic methods, combined with an extraordinary mind, enable him to accomplish his herculean task. In the eastern horizon Li-Hung-Chang shines as the brilliant star of morning that tells of the coming of a brighter dawn.