| Southport : Original Sources in Exploration | | |
Travels in Tartary, Thibet, and China
During the years 1844-5-6. Volume 1Evariste Regis Huc
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Chapter 1
French
Mission of Peking—Glance at the Kingdom of Ouniot — Preparations for
Departure — Tartar-Chinese Inn—Change of Costume—Portrait and Character
of Samdadchiemba—Sain-Oula (the Good Mountain)—The Frosts on Sain-Oula,
and its Robbers—First Encampment in the Desert—Great Imperial
Forest—Buddhist monuments on the summit of the mountains —Topography of
the Kingdom of Gechekten—Character of its Inhabitants—Tragical working
of a Mine—Two Mongols desire to have their horoscope taken —Adventure of
Samdadchiemba —Environs of the town of Tolon-Noor.
Fig.1: xxxx
The French mission of Peking, once so flourishing under the
early emperors of the Tartar-Mantchou dynasty, was almost extirpated by
the constant persecutions of Kia-King, the fifth monarch of that
dynasty, who ascended the throne in 1799. The missionaries were
dispersed or put to death, and at that time Europe was herself too
deeply agitated to enable her to send succour to this distant
Christendom, which remained for a time abandoned. Accordingly,
when the French Lazarists re-appeared at Peking, they found there
scarce a vestige of the true faith. A great number of Christians,
to avoid (p.10) the persecutions of the Chinese authorities, had passed
the Great Wall, and sought peace and liberty in the deserts of Tartary,
where they lived dispersed upon small patches of land which the Mongols
permitted them to cultivate. By dint of perseverance the
missionaries collected together these dispersed Christians, placed
themselves at their head, and hence superintended the mission of
Peking, the immediate administration of which was in the hands of a few
Chinese Lazarists. The French missionaries could not, with any
prudence, have resumed their former position in the capital of the
empire. Their presence would have compromised the prospects of
the scarcely reviving mission.
Fig.2: View of Peking.
In visiting the Chinese
Christians of Mongolia, we more than once had occasion to make
excursions into the Land of Grass, (Isao-Ti), as the uncultivated
portions of Tartary are designated, and to take up our temporary abode
beneath the tents of the Mongols. We were no sooner acquainted
with this nomadic people, than we loved them, and our hearts were
filled with a passionate desire to announce the gospel to them.
Our whole leisure was therefore devoted to acquiring the Tartar
dialects, and in 1842, the Holy See at length fulfilled our desires, by
erecting Mongolia into an Apostolical Vicariat.
Towards the
commencement of the year 1844, couriers arrived at Si-wang, a small
Christian community, where the vicar apostolic of Mongolia had fixed
his episcopal residence. Si-wang itself is a village, north of
the Great Wall, one day’s journey from Suen-hoa-Fou. The prelate
sent us instructions for an extended voyage we were to undertake for
the purpose of studying the character and manners of the Tartars, and
of ascertaining as nearly as possible the extent and limits of the
Vicariat. This journey, then, which we had so long meditated, was
now determined upon; and we sent a young Lama convert in search of some
camels which we had put to pasture in the kingdom of Naiman.
Pending his absence, we hastened the completion of several Mongol
works, the translation of which had occupied us for a considerable
time. Our little books of prayer and doctrine were ready, still
our young Lama had not returned; but thinking he could not delay much
longer, we quitted the valley of Black Waters (Hé-Chuy), and proceeded
on to await his arrival at the Contiguous Defiles (Pié-lié-Keou) which
seemed more favourable for the completion of our preparations.
The days passed away in futile expectation; the coolness of the autumn
was becoming somewhat biting, and we feared that we should have to
begin our journey across the deserts of Tartary during the frosts of
winter. We determined, therefore, to dispatch some one in quest
of our camels and our Lama. A friendly (p.11) catechist, a good
walker and a man of expedition, proceeded on this mission. On the
day fixed for that purpose he returned; his researches had been wholly
without result. All he had ascertained at the place which he had
visited was, that our Lama had started several days before with our
camels. The surprise of our courier was extreme when he found
that the Lama had not reached us before himself. “What!”
exclaimed he, “are my legs quicker than a camel’s! They left
Naiman before me, and here I am arrived before them! My spiritual
fathers, have patience for another day. I’ll answer that both
Lama and camels will be here in that time.” Several days,
however, passed away, and we were still in the same position. We
once more dispatched the courier in search of the Lama, enjoining him
to proceed to the very place where the camels had been put to pasture,
to examine things with his own eyes, and not to trust to any statement
that other people might make.
During this interval of painful
suspense, we continued to inhabit the Contiguous Defiles, a Tartar
district dependent on the kingdom of Ouniot. [11] These regions
appear to have been affected by great revolutions. The present
inhabitants state that, in the olden time, the country was occupied by
Corean tribes, who, expelled thence in the course of various wars, took
refuge in the peninsula which they still possess, between the Yellow
Sea and the sea of Japan. You often, in these parts of Tartary,
meet with the remains of great towns, and the ruins of fortresses, very
nearly resembling those of the middle ages in Europe, and, upon turning
up the soil in these places, it is not unusual to find lances, arrows,
portions of farming implements, and urns filled with Corean money.
Towards
the middle of the 17th century, the Chinese began to penetrate into
this district. At that period, the whole landscape was still one
of rude grandeur; the mountains were covered with fine forests, and the
Mongol tents whitened the valleys, amid rich pasturages. For a
very moderate sum the Chinese obtained permission to cultivate the
desert, and as cultivation advanced, the Mongols were obliged to
retreat, conducting their flocks and herds elsewhere.
From that
time forth, the aspect of the country became entirely changed.
All the trees were grubbed up, the forests disappeared from the hills,
the prairies were cleared by means of fire, and the new cultivators set
busily to work in exhausting the fecundity of the soil. Almost
the entire region is now in the hands of the Chinese, and it is
probably to their system of devastation that we must (p.12) attribute the
extreme irregularity of the seasons which now desolate this unhappy
land. Droughts are of almost annual occurrence; the spring winds
setting in, dry up the soil; the heavens assume a sinister aspect, and
the unfortunate population await, in utter terror, the manifestation of
some terrible calamity; the winds by degrees redouble their violence,
and sometimes continue to blow far into the summer months. Then
the dust rises in clouds, the atmosphere becomes thick and dark; and
often, at mid-day, you are environed with the terrors of night, or
rather, with an intense and almost palpable blackness, a thousand times
more fearful than the most sombre night. Next after these
hurricanes comes the rain: but so comes, that instead of being an
object of desire, it is an object of dread, for it pours down in
furious raging torrents. Sometimes the heavens suddenly opening,
pour forth in, as it were, an immense cascade, all the water with which
they are charged in that quarter; and immediately the fields and their
crops disappear under a sea of mud, whose enormous waves follow the
course of the valleys, and carry everything before them. The
torrent rushes on, and in a few hours the earth reappears; but the
crops are gone, and worse even than that, the arable soil also has gone
with them. Nothing remains but a ramification of deep ruts,
filled with gravel, and thenceforth incapable of being ploughed.
Hail
is of frequent occurrence in these unhappy districts, and the
dimensions of the hailstones are generally enormous. We have
ourselves seen some that weighed twelve pounds. One moment
sometimes suffices to exterminate whole flocks. In 1843, during
one of these storms, there was heard in the air a sound as of a rushing
wind, and therewith fell, in a field near a house, a mass of ice larger
than an ordinary millstone. It was broken to pieces with
hatchets, yet, though the sun burned fiercely, three days elapsed
before these pieces entirely melted.
The droughts and the
inundations together, sometimes occasion famines which well nigh
exterminate the inhabitants. That of 1832, in the twelfth year of
the reign of Tao-Kouang, [12] is the most terrible of these on
record. The Chinese report that it was everywhere announced by a
general presentiment, the exact nature of which no one could explain or
comprehend. During the winter of 1831, a dark rumour grew into
circulation. Next year, it was said, there will be neither rich
nor poor; blood will cover the mountains; bones will fill the valleys
(Ou fou, ou kioung; hue man chan, kou man tchouan.) These words
were in every one’s mouth; the children repeated them in their sports;
all were under the p. 13domination of these sinister apprehensions when
the year 1832 commenced. Spring and summer passed away without
rain, and the frosts of autumn set in while the crops were yet green;
these crops of course perished, and there was absolutely no
harvest. The population was soon reduced to the most entire
destitution. Houses, fields, cattle, everything was exchanged for
grain, the price of which attained its weight in gold. When the
grass on the mountain sides was devoured by the starving creatures, the
depths of the earth were dug into for roots. The fearful
prognostic, that had been so often repeated, became accomplished.
Thousands died upon the hills, whither they had crawled in search of
grass; dead bodies filled the roads and houses; whole villages were
depopulated to the last man. There was, indeed, neither rich nor
poor; pitiless famine had levelled all alike.
It was in this
dismal region that we awaited with impatience the courier, whom, for a
second time, we had dispatched into the kingdom of Naiman. The
day fixed for his return came and passed, and several others followed,
but brought no camels, nor Lama, nor courier, which seemed to us most
astonishing of all. We became desperate; we could not longer
endure this painful and futile suspense. We devised other means
of proceeding, since those we had arranged appeared to be
frustrated. The day of our departure was fixed; it was settled,
further, that one of our Christians should convey us in his car to
Tolon-Noor, distant from the Contiguous Defiles about fifty
leagues. At Tolon-Noor we were to dismiss our temporary
conveyance, proceed alone into the desert, and thus start on our
pilgrimage as well as we could. This project absolutely stupified
our Christian friends; they could not comprehend how two Europeans
should undertake by themselves a long journey through an unknown and
inimical country: but we had reasons for abiding by our
resolution. We did not desire that any Chinese should accompany
us. It appeared to us absolutely necessary to throw aside the
fetters with which the authorities had hitherto contrived to shackle
missionaries in China. The excessive caution, or rather the
imbecile pusillanimity of a Chinese catechist, was calculated rather to
impede than to facilitate our progress in Tartary.
On
the
Sunday, the day preceding our arranged departure, every thing was
ready; our small trunks were packed and padlocked, and the Christians
had assembled to bid us adieu. On this very evening, to the
infinite surprise of all of us, our courier arrived. As he
advanced his mournful countenance told us before he spoke, that his
intelligence was unfavourable. “My spiritual fathers,” said he,
“all is lost; you have nothing to hope; in the kingdom of Naiman there
no longer exists any camels of the Holy Church. The Lama (p.14)
doubtless has been killed; and I have no doubt the devil has had a
direct hand in the matter.”
Doubts and fears are often harder to
bear than the certainty of evil. The intelligence thus received,
though lamentable in itself, relieved us from our perplexity as to the
past, without in any way altering our plan for the future. After
having received the condolences of our Christians, we retired to rest,
convinced that this night would certainly be that preceding our nomadic
life.
The night was far advanced, when suddenly numerous voices
were heard outside our abode, and the door was shaken with loud and
repeated knocks. We rose at once; the Lama, the camels, all had
arrived; there was quite a little revolution. The order of the
day was instantly changed. We resolved to depart, not on the
Monday, but on the Tuesday; not in a car, but on camels, in true Tartar
fashion. We returned to our beds perfectly delighted; but we
could not sleep, each of us occupying the remainder of the night with
plans for effecting the equipment of the caravan in the most
expeditious manner possible.
Next day, while we were making our
preparations for departure, our Lama explained his extraordinary
delay. First, he had undergone a long illness; then he had been
occupied a considerable time in pursuing a camel which had escaped into
the desert; and finally, he had to go before some tribunal, in order to
procure the restitution of a mule which had been stolen from him.
A law-suit, an illness, and a camel hunt were amply sufficient reasons
for excusing the delay which had occurred. Our courier was the
only person who did not participate in the general joy; he saw it must
be evident to every one that he had not fulfilled his mission with any
sort of skill.
All Monday was occupied in the equipment of our
caravan. Every person gave his assistance to this object.
Some repaired our travelling-house, that is to say, mended or patched a
great blue linen tent; others cut for us a supply of wooden tent pins;
others mended the holes in our copper kettle, and renovated the broken
leg of a joint stool; others prepared cords, and put together the
thousand and one pieces of a camel’s pack. Tailors, carpenters,
braziers, rope-makers, saddle-makers, people of all trades assembled in
active co-operation in the court-yard of our humble abode. For
all, great and small, among our Christians, were resolved that their
spiritual fathers should proceed on their journey as comfortably as
possible.
On Tuesday morning, there remained nothing to be done
but to perforate the nostrils of the camels, and to insert in the
aperture a wooden peg, to use as a sort of bit. The arrangement
of this was [p 15] left to our Lama. The wild piercing cries of the
poor animals pending the painful operation, soon collected together all
the Christians of the village. At this moment, our Lama became
exclusively the hero of the expedition. The crowd ranged
themselves in a circle around him; every one was curious to see how, by
gently pulling the cord attached to the peg in its nose, our Lama could
make the animal obey him, and kneel at his pleasure. Then, again,
it was an interesting thing for the Chinese to watch our Lama packing
on the camels’ backs the baggage of the two missionary
travellers. When the arrangements were completed, we drank a cup
of tea, and proceeded to the chapel; the Christians recited prayers for
our safe journey; we received their farewell, interrupted with tears,
and proceeded on our way. Samdadchiemba, our Lama cameleer,
gravely mounted on a black, stunted, meagre mule, opened the march,
leading two camels laden with our baggage; then came the two
missionaries, MM. Gabet and Huc, the former mounted on a tall camel,
the latter on a white horse.
Upon our departure we were resolved to lay aside our accustomed
usages, and to become regular Tartars. Yet we did not at the
outset, and all at once, become exempt from the Chinese system.
Besides that, for the first mile or two of our journey, we were
escorted by our Chinese Christians, some on foot, and some on
horseback; our first stage was to be an inn kept by the Grand Catechist
of the Contiguous Defiles.
(p.16) The progress of our little
caravan was not at first wholly successful. We were quite novices
in the art of saddling and girdling camels, so that every five minutes
we had to halt, either to rearrange some cord or piece of wood that
hurt and irritated the camels, or to consolidate upon their backs, as
well as we could, the ill-packed baggage that threatened, ever and
anon, to fall to the ground. We advanced, indeed, despite all
these delays, but still very slowly. After journeying about
thirty-five lis, [16] we quitted the cultivated district and entered
upon the Land of Grass. There we got on much better; the camels
were more at their ease in the desert, and their pace became more rapid.
We
ascended a high mountain, where the camels evinced a decided tendency
to compensate themselves for their trouble, by browzing, on either
side, upon the tender stems of the elder tree or the green leaves of
the wild rose. The shouts we were obliged to keep up, in order to
urge forward the indolent beasts, alarmed infinite foxes, who issued
from their holes and rushed off in all directions. On attaining
the summit of the rugged hill we saw in the hollow beneath the
Christian inn of Yan-Pa-Eul. We proceeded towards it, our road
constantly crossed by fresh and limpid streams, which, issuing from the
sides of the mountain, reunite at its foot and form a rivulet which
encircles the inn. We were received by the landlord, or, as the
Chinese call him, the Comptroller of the Chest.
Fig.4: Kang of a Tartar-Chinese Inn (p.17)
Inns of this
description occur at intervals in the deserts of Tartary, along the
confines of China. They consist almost universally of a large
square enclosure, formed by high poles interlaced with brushwood.
In the centre of this enclosure is a mud house, never more than ten
feet high. With the exception of a few wretched rooms at each
extremity, the entire structure consists of one large apartment,
serving at once for cooking, eating, and sleeping; thoroughly dirty,
and full of smoke and intolerable stench. Into this pleasant
place all travellers, without distinction, are ushered, the portion of
space applied to their accommodation being a long, wide Kang, as it is
called, a sort of furnace, occupying more than three-fourths of the
apartment, about four feet high, and the flat, smooth surface of which
is covered with a reed mat, which the richer guests cover again with a
travelling carpet of felt, or with furs. In front of it, three
immense coppers, set in glazed earth, serve for the preparation of the
traveller’s milk-broth. The apertures by which these monster
boilers are heated communicate with the interior of the Kang, so that
its temperature is constantly maintained at a high elevation, even in
the terrible cold of winter.
Upon
the arrival of guests, the Comptroller of the Chest invites them to
ascend the Kang, where they seat themselves, their legs crossed
tailor-fashion, round a large table, not more than six inches
high. The lower part of the room is reserved for the people of
the inn, who there busy themselves in keeping up the fire under the
cauldrons, boiling tea, and pounding oats and buckwheat into flour for
the repast of the travellers. The Kang of these Tartar-Chinese
inns is, till evening, a stage full of animation, where the guests eat,
drink, smoke, gamble, dispute, and fight: with night-fall, the
refectory, tavern, and gambling-house of the day is suddenly converted
into a dormitory. The travellers who have any bed-clothes unroll
and arrange them; those who have none, settle themselves as best they
may in their personal attire, and lie down, side by side, round the
table. When the guests are very numerous they arrange themselves
in two circles, feet to feet. Thus reclined, those so disposed,
sleep; others, awaiting sleep, smoke, drink tea, and gossip. The
effect of the scene, dimly exhibited by an imperfect wick floating amid
thick, dirty, stinking oil, whose receptacle is ordinarily a broken
tea-cup, is fantastic, and to the stranger, fearful.
(p.18) The
Comptroller of the Chest had prepared his own room for our
accommodation. We washed, but would not sleep there; being now
Tartar travellers, and in possession of a good tent, we determined to
try our apprentice hand at setting it up. This resolution
offended no one, it was quite understood we adopted this course, not
out of contempt towards the inn, but out of love for a patriarchal
life. When we had set up our tent, and unrolled on the ground our
goat-skin beds, we lighted a pile of brushwood, for the nights were
already growing cold. Just as we were closing our eyes, the
Inspector of Darkness startled us with beating the official night
alarum, upon his brazen tam-tam, the sonorous sound of which,
reverberating through the adjacent valleys struck with terror the
tigers and wolves frequenting them, and drove them off.
We were
on foot before daylight. Previous to our departure we had to
perform an operation of considerable importance—no other than an entire
change of costume, a complete metamorphosis. The missionaries who
reside in China, all, without exception, wear the secular dress of the
people, and are in no way distinguishable from them; they bear no
outward sign of their religious character. It is a great pity
that they should be thus obliged to wear the secular costume, for it is
an obstacle in the way of their preaching the gospel. Among the
Tartars, a black man—so they discriminate the laity, as wearing their
hair, from the clergy, who have their heads close shaved—who should
talk about religion would be laughed at, as impertinently meddling with
things, the special province of the Lamas, and in no way concerning
him. The reasons which appear to have introduced and maintained
the custom of wearing the secular habit on the part of the missionaries
in China, no longer applying to us, we resolved at length to appear in
an ecclesiastical exterior becoming our sacred mission. The views
of our vicar apostolic on the subject, as explained in his written
instructions, being conformable with our wish, we did not
hesitate. We resolved to adopt the secular dress of the Thibetian
Lamas; that is to say, the dress which they wear when not actually
performing their idolatrous ministry in the Pagodas. The costume
of the Thibetian Lamas suggested itself to our preference as being in
unison with that worn by our young neophyte, Samdadchiemba.
Fig.5: Missionaries in Lamanesque Costume
Breakfast followed this
decisive operation, but it was silent and sad. When the
Comptroller of the Chest brought in some glasses and an urn, wherein
smoked the hot wine drunk by the Chinese, we told him that having
changed our habit of dress, we should change also our habit of
living. “Take away,” said we, “that wine and that chafing dish;
henceforth we renounce drinking and smoking. You know,” added we,
laughing, “that good Lamas abstain from wine and tobacco.” The
Chinese Christians who surrounded us did not join in the laugh; they
looked at us without speaking and with deep commiseration, fully
persuaded that we should inevitably perish of privation and misery in
the deserts of Tartary. Breakfast finished, while the people of
the inn were packing up our tent, saddling the camels, and preparing
for our departure, we took a couple of rolls, baked in the steam of the
furnace, and walked out to complete our meal with some wild currants
growing on the bank of the adjacent rivulet. It was soon
announced to us that everything was ready—so, mounting our respective
animals, we proceeded on the road to Tolon-Noor, accompanied by
Samdadchiemba.
Fig.6: Samdadchiemba
As we have just observed, Samdadchiemba was our only travelling
companion. This young man was neither Chinese, nor Tartar, nor
Thibetian. Yet, at the first glance, it was easy to recognise in
him the features characterizing that which naturalists call the Mongol
race. A great flat nose, insolently turned up; a large mouth,
slit in a perfectly straight line, thick, projecting lips, a deep
bronze complexion, every feature contributed to give to his physiognomy
a wild and scornful aspect.
When his little eyes seemed starting
out of his head from under their lids, wholly destitute of eyelash, and
he looked at you wrinkling his brow, he inspired you at once with
feelings of dread and yet of confidence. The face was without any
decisive character: it exhibited neither the mischievous knavery of the
Chinese, nor the frank good-nature of the Tartar, nor the courageous
energy of the Thibetian; but was made up of a mixture of all
three. Samdadchiemba was a Dchiahour. We shall hereafter
have occasion to speak more in detail of the native country of our
young cameleer.
At the age of eleven, Samdadchiemba had escaped
from his Lamasery, in order to avoid the too frequent and too severe
corrections of the master under whom he was more immediately
placed. He afterwards passed the greater portion of his vagabond
youth, sometimes in the Chinese towns, sometimes in the deserts of
Tartary. It is easy to comprehend that this independent course of
life had not tended to modify the natural asperity of his character;
his intellect was entirely uncultivated; but, on the other hand, his
muscular power was enormous, and he was not a little vain of this
quality, which he took great pleasure in parading. After having
p. 21been instructed and baptized by M. Gabet, he had attached himself
to the service of the missionaries. The journey we were now
undertaking was perfectly in harmony with his erratic and adventurous
taste. He was, however, of no mortal service to us as a guide
across the deserts of Tartary, for he knew no more of the country than
we knew ourselves. Our only informants were a compass, and the
excellent map of the Chinese empire by Andriveau-Goujon.
The
first portion of our journey, after leaving Yan-Pa-Eul, was
accomplished without interruption, sundry anathemas excepted, which
were hurled against us as we ascended a mountain, by a party of Chinese
merchants, whose mules, upon sight of our camels and our own yellow
attire, became frightened, and took to their heels at full speed,
dragging after them, and in one or two instances, overturning the
waggons to which they were harnessed.
Footnotes:
[Continue to Chapter 1, part 2]
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