With a polite ‘I shall pay both Lock’s and Blackwell’s Bookshop a visit, thank you for the suggestions,’ the General turned to the others, bowed, exchanged hand-shakes, turned once more to salute me and made his exit.
Outside, a posse of bodyguards in leopardskin-patterned uniforms came running and fell in around him. Through the window we watched the gaggle progress across the short bridge like the ducks on the lake’s placid waters.
At a nod from Sir Edward Grey, the War Minister turned to me.
‘Dr. Watson, Sir Edward and I are about to take you into our deepest confidence. Indisputably your medical advice will be of great value to the Yuán’s New Army but there would be an additional dimension to your journey. The General’s request is fortuitous from England’s strategic point of view. As Sir Edward will now explain, it could affect the well-being of our entire presence in Asia. Britain’s possessions share a common border with China extending from Sinkiang to Yunnan yet we have no idea what goes on in the deeper reaches of the Middle Kingdom, disposition of garrisons, communications, roads, railways, that sort of thing. Even which mountain passes are kept cleared in the depths of winter.
We know nothing of the interior except along stretches of the Yangtze nor even which Powers keen to rival the British Empire in reach and authority are up to no good there. His Majesty’s Government needs to know a great deal more about the situation from within. We know the Russian Tsar’s soldiers have been raiding and ransacking China’s provinces virtually at will. We haven’t the faintest inkling what the Japanese are up to, and not much about the Kaiser’s shenanigans either.’
Sir Edward stepped in.
‘Dr. Watson, England’s aim must be the containment of Petersburg and Berlin. Our bellicose friend, the German Kaiser, is spearheading a scramble for colonies everywhere. He seeks territorial aggrandisement no matter the cost. If his armies are to succeed, Germany must have access to strategic supplies far beyond those of Europe. We want to discover how China will react to his aggression. We may need to bolster her, guarantee her security.’
‘But surely our diplomats keep you informed?’ I responded.
Haldane and Grey exchanged rueful looks.
‘We have diplomats, indeed,’ Haldane replied. ‘But few diplomats and traders leave their enclaves. They huddle together in Shanghai and other Treaty Ports. As a source of information they are of limited value. Nor are they especially welcome to the locals. The Chinese refer to them as Xi Yang Guizi - western foreign devils.’
The War Minister crossed to the wall-map. He pointed to England’s South coast.
‘Start your journey at the port of Dover as though taking an ordinary holiday. To muddy your tracks, put the word out you plan to spend the season in Ostend attending the motor race and the chess championship. You can say you have a posse of rich and famous patients awaiting your ministrations there, hence taking a medical bag and quantities of medicines. We can assure you every dispatch of a sensitive nature telegraphed back to London will be placed solely in Sir Edward’s and my hands.’
As a former Army officer I had my own special interest in keeping to the savage route outlined for me by General Yuán. Ever since seeing a Han dynasty bronze statuette of a Gansu Flying Horse I had wanted to discover the homeland of the famed Ferghana horse. A revered myth proclaimed it a relative of the dragon. Indeed, all wonderful horses, such as the steed of the pious Hsüan-tsang which carried the sacred scriptures from India, were avatars of dragons. In antiquity the tallest horses owned by a Chinaman were called simply ‘dragons’, legendary creatures in Chinese folklore symbolizing potent and auspicious powers, particularly control over water, rainfall, typhoons, and floods.
The War Minister left Duck Island Cottage first. A few minutes later the Foreign Secretary and I followed him out. We strolled along the edge of the lake. Two pelicans, the gift of a Russian Ambassador, and a crane with a wooden leg returned our gaze. Sir Edward, a known ornithologist, pointed an arm as though discussing the pelicans.
‘The scramble for Africa is almost over. The scramble for China has just begun. Certain Old China Hands - former tai-pans - will never be satisfied until we have made the Sacred Earth And Divine Land a part of the British Empire, a second India. They say Imperial China is going to pieces anyway. She is the sick woman of Asia who might crumble into dust at any moment. We English should slice up the melon. Every week memorials to this effect pour into my office from our manufacturing towns, from Huddersfield, Leeds, Liverpool, Bradford, Halifax. For them the extinction of China is a fact in the natural order of things. In the British order of things.’
‘Surely you can prevent any such moves...?’
‘Perhaps, but it won’t be easy. For half a century a fundamental clash of opinions has existed between the mercantile and the official British Government policy toward China. Our own citizenry in Guangzhou, Shanghai and Weihaiwei plus an assortment of missionaries, merchants, military, customs officers and journalists want to hitch themselves to a path of imperial glory. To them China is a landscape as much inviting exploitation as the American Wild West. I don’t believe you got as far as China in your army days. They are a singular people, quite different from the peoples of the Indian sub-Continent. We have traded with India since 1600. Underlying that relationship is a mutual respect - the Indian for the power of our guns and ships, the English for Mughal architecture and the kaleidoscope of colour. From the English language to cricket, the legacy of the British Raj will forever be a part of Indian identity.
Not so China. Her scholars pride themselves on treating strangers from afar with courtesy and consideration but despite the politeness of your reception you will sense deep-rooted and far-reaching contempt for the barbarian. Behind our backs China accuses us, rightly enough, of concern solely for material profit or bargaining for our places in Heaven by rummaging around for Chinese souls. They say the British are audacious and treacherous, and that we know nothing of the ‘Five Duties Of Man’: loyalty, piety, harmony, duty and ceremony, wisdom and good faith. They are convinced every Englishman carries crafty plans in his pocket threatening the Chinese Empire with the gravest danger.’
My companion pulled out a pocket-watch. It was time for parting words.
‘We shall of course cover all your costs. You must take care, Dr. Watson. Under the influence of Russian nihilism a period of assassination has begun in China. Haldane was right to say you embark on a dangerous enterprise. England can only wish you well.’
‘I shall take care,’ I assured him. ‘After all, my time in Afghanistan was hardly...’
‘Quite so,’ Sir Edward broke in. ‘We must hope Commandant Yuán builds an army so powerful no more adventurist Powers will try their luck at gulping his country down their maw.’
As though these words broadcast a signal, the six-cylinder Napier drew up at the bottom of the Charles Steps. The same smartly dressed chauffeur saluted even before the great horseless carriage came to a stop. Grey acknowledged the arrival and said, ‘Dr. Watson, one last thing, what do you think of the expression The Yellow Peril or The Yellow Spectre?’
I knew the swaggering Kaiser Wilhelm had coined the phrase ‘yellow peril’ in the 1890s following a dream in which he saw the Buddha riding a dragon threatening Europe. England was not immune to such irrational fears. Punch magazine ran cartoons and poetic stanzas of impeccable offensiveness about high-ranking Chinese visitors: ‘With his eyes aslant, and his pigtail’s braid/Coiled neatly round his close-shaved head...’
I replied that Sherlock Holmes and I were well acquainted with the opium dens beyond the Tower of London and there were no more than a dozen such smoking establishments in the whole of Limehouse. As to a Trojan Horse, ‘the enemy within’, I doubted if there were more than 800 Chinese in the whole of England.