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The Ceylão made a calm and monotonous voyage to Shanghai. From Shanghai, we travelled up the Blue River in a small steamship. We continued as far as Tien-Tsin. I was not travelling as a curious tourist. The bluish landscape left me indifferent and sad.
The American captain suggested a stop so that we could see the ruins of Nanjing. I refused and continued to stare at the brown river water. Then we travelled from Tien-Tsin to Tung-Chou in flat boats. We passed rice fields, mud villages and fields containing coffins. I saw the corpses of beggars floating down the river.
At Tung-Chou, an escort of Cossacks was waiting for me. Old General Camilloff, the Russian ambassador in Peking, had sent them. Sá-Tó, the interpreter chosen by the general, explained how Camilloff had learnt of my arrival. Camilloff also sent a pony and a note: 'Greetings! The animal is gentle.'
We set off quickly because the gates of Peking closed at sunset. We passed along the old imperial road and over the bridge of Pa-li-kao. We rode beside dark canals, orchards and small villages. Suddenly, I saw Peking before me.
The city looked to me like a vast, dark and barbarous wall against the red sky. A rich litter was waiting for me at the gate of Tung-Tsen-Men. I entered among carts, lacquered sedan chairs, horsemen, Buddhist monks and dromedaries. Despite the crowd, I felt sad.
Soon afterwards, the litter stopped in a dark, quiet garden. Sá-Tó opened the curtains, and I saw lit pavilions among ancient trees. Camilloff was waiting for me with a white moustache and a large sword. He embraced me and took me to what I called the bath of hospitality. It was a large porcelain tub with lemon, sponges and the scent of lilac.
That night, I met his wife, Vladimira. She was tall and blonde, with green eyes. She wore a white dress and a red rose at her breast. I kissed her fingers and caught the scent of sandalwood and tea.
We talked about Europe, politics, writers and music. Then Vladimira sat at the piano and sang until late. I felt attracted to her beauty and her voice.
The next morning, I was alone with the general in a garden pavilion. I told him my whole story and explained why I had come to Peking. 'Does my guest know Chinese?' Camilloff asked. 'I know two important words: Mandarin and tea,' I replied.
'Mandarin is not a Chinese word, and nobody in China understands it,' Camilloff explained. 'In the sixteenth century, Portuguese navigators gave that name to Chinese officials.' 'The name comes from the Portuguese verb mandar.' 'That was when we had navigators,' I murmured. Camilloff sighed out of politeness and said that I still had the word tea. According to him, that word was important, but it was not enough for all social dealings.
I wanted to marry a woman from the family and replace the dead Mandarin. Camilloff stated that no woman in the family would agree to marry a foreigner. He also stated that the emperor would not grant a foreigner the rank of mandarin.
'But why would he refuse me the office?' I asked. I said that I belonged to a good family from Minho. I added that I was a graduate and therefore a learned man. I had worked in a government office and possessed millions. I also knew the ways of administration. The general bowed, as if he respected so many titles.
'Perhaps the emperor would not refuse it,' Camilloff replied. 'But anyone who proposed you for the office would be beheaded at once.' According to him, Chinese law was clear on that point. I lowered my head, dejected.
Then I said that I wanted to free myself from the vision of Ti-Chin-Fú and his paper kite. I asked whether I could give half of my millions to the Chinese treasury. Perhaps Ti-Chin-Fú would then be appeased. The general placed a hand on my shoulder and said the idea was a great mistake.
'Those millions would never reach the imperial treasury,' Camilloff said. According to him, the ruling classes would keep the money. They would spend the money on gardens, porcelain, furs and silks for concubines. They would not relieve even one person's hunger or repair a road. Camilloff concluded that such luxury would not satisfy Ti-Chin-Fú's soul.
I then asked whether I could distribute rice directly among hungry people. 'It would be a disastrous idea,' the general replied. According to him, the court would see political ambition in that aid. The court would think that I wanted the support of the poor and threatened the dynasty. According to Camilloff, I would be beheaded. 'Damnation! Then why did I come to China?' I shouted.
The diplomat shrugged and then smiled slyly. He suggested that I should search for the family while he asked Prince Tong where they were. Then I was to gather them and give them a few million. I was also to arrange a royal funeral, with a long procession, Buddhist monks, banners and professional mourners.
Camilloff left the sentence unfinished: if my conscience did not fall asleep and the phantom remained... 'Then what?' I asked. Camilloff ended with a cruel remark about suicide: 'Then cut your own throat.' 'Thank you, General,' I replied.
One thing was clear: I had to dress like a rich, educated Chinese man. That way, I could approach Ti-Chin-Fú's family and attend the funeral rites. Camilloff, Sá-Tó and the General's wife agreed with that plan. The next morning, tailors dressed me in a blue tunic embroidered with gold. I wore satin trousers, yellow slippers, a sash and a bamboo fan. The General's wife stepped back as if she were seeing the Emperor himself.
Because of the clothes, I immediately imagined that I had Chinese ideas and instincts. I thought I loved ceremonies, respected bureaucracy and feared the Emperor. In my imagination, I hated foreigners, worshipped ancestors and loved sweet food. I convinced myself that I was already a mandarin inside and out. I bowed before the General's wife and performed a solemn chin-chin. 'It is delightful!' she exclaimed, laughing and clapping her hands.
To celebrate my new appearance, they served a Chinese lunch. I ate oysters, shark fin, sweet water lilies, oranges and rice. At the end, I made imperial tea with boiling water. Two singers performed old songs from the Ming dynasty. Two musicians accompanied them on instruments covered with snakeskin. The General's wife replied with a French song. Camilloff left with his Cossack escort to speak to Prince Tong, and I went out with Sá-Tó.
We entered the wealthy area called the Tartar City. Military men and nobles lived there, in an area of quiet streets, walls and sycamores. Rich carriages and official sedan chairs carried by tired workers passed us. The shops held porcelain, bronze, ivory, silk, weapons and fans. A wall separated us from the Forbidden City, where the Emperor lived.
Young guards bowed before an old prince. Two mandarins exchanged greetings and refusals without managing to enter a garden. Paper kites shaped like enormous monsters floated in the sky. I then asked Sá-Tó to show me the poor districts.
We passed through the Tchin-Men gate and entered a city of mud. There were hungry dogs, dark houses and poor shops. The crowd moved among dust, dirty water and lines of camels. Half-naked performers did acrobatics in demon masks. Astrologers in long robes sold horoscopes and predictions made from the stars. A soldier pushed prisoners tied to one another by their plaits.
Then a mandarin's funeral procession passed with banners and portable braziers. Women in ragged clothes wailed on the ground, then laughed and drank tea. Near the Temple of Heaven, I saw many almost naked beggars. Some women calmly gnawed bones. Beside them, children's bodies were rotting among flies. A condemned man locked in a cage held out his hands to beg. In another square, severed heads were inside small cages. Dark, thick blood dripped from them, drop by drop. 'Enough! Now I want rest, silence and an expensive cigar,' I exclaimed.
Sá-Tó then took me to the top of the city wall. From there, I looked over immense Peking, enclosed by a great square wall. I saw palaces, temples, lakes, bridges, ruins and thousands of pavilions. The crowd looked like grains of sand beside the enormous buildings. Sá-Tó pointed out the imperial palace and several sanctuaries.
I wanted to understand the institutions, religious practices and books of that world. Yet that world remained closed and difficult for me to understand. I felt isolated and longed for my village in the Minho. I remembered the trees, the village shop and the cool streams. Flocks of pigeons passed with small bamboo tubes attached to their bodies. The air made the tubes whistle with a slow, sad sound. I returned home sad and thoughtful.
At dinner, Camilloff asked me what I thought of Peking. I compared the city to Babylon in a Portuguese poem. 'Peking is a monster,' Camilloff replied. According to him, three hundred million people obeyed the ruling class. Camilloff described them as hard-working, resilient, prolific and expansionist. He also said that they studied European science and were modernising their navy and army. I said that some Portuguese patriots claimed that fifty men would sweep China aside.
'Portugal is a beautiful country,' Camilloff murmured. 'It is a dump, General,' I replied. The General's wife spoke longingly of countries where orange trees blossomed. Meriskoff explained that the poem was about Italy, and another woman preferred France. Then the diplomats spoke solemnly about the social question in France. The learned conversation ended when the coffee arrived.
In the garden, the General's wife took my arm. 'I wish I could live in those passionate countries,' she murmured. 'That is where people fall in love,' I whispered to her. Then I gently led her into the darkness beneath the sycamores.