The phrase, 'Catching a Tartar,' points to a peculiarity in Tartar
life, which, however correct historically, is not in keeping with the
actual current state of the Mongol character. It implies something
impetuous, stern, unyielding, relentless, and cruel; whereas the
modern life of the children of the desert exhibits much that is
simple, confiding, generous, and even chivalric. It is nothing to our
discredit that we should have been so long in discovering these
features in the great nomadic class of the day, because European
barbarians are absolutely prohibited from visiting the desert places
which are the scenes of their wanderings; and but for the enterprise
of two Roman Catholic missionaries from France, we should probably
have remained in ignorance for a much longer period. These gentlemen,
however, have thrown a light on this subject, which is too remarkable
to be passed over without notice. Messrs Gabet and Huc composed their
work in 1846, but it has only recently been published in this
country,[3] and its perusal cannot fail to modify many of our
preconceived notions regarding Tartar life.
It will, for example, be admitted that, according to the hitherto
popular acceptation of the character, Tartars were not exactly the
sort of persons on whom practical jokes might be perpetrated with
impunity. Read, however, the following anecdote:--While our two
travellers were one day in their tents, two Tartar horsemen dashed up
to the entrance, and threw themselves on the ground. 'Men of prayer,'
said they with voices full of emotion, 'we come to ask you to draw our
horoscope. We have this day had two horses stolen from us. We cannot
find the robbers, and we come to you men of learning, to tell us where
we shall find our property.'
'Brothers,' answered the missionaries, 'we are not lamas of Buddha,
and do not believe in horoscopes. For a man to say that he can
discover stolen goods by such means, is falsehood and deception.'
The horsemen entreated, but the priests were inflexible, and the
disappointed Tartars mounted their steeds, and galloped off. It so
happened that Samdadchiemba, the guide of the missionaries--a
Christianised Oriental, but withal a very merry fellow--was present
during this interview, but he sat drinking his tea without uttering a
word. All on a sudden he knitted his brows, rose, and came to the
door. The horsemen were at some distance; but the _dchiahour_, by an
exertion of his strong lungs, induced them to turn round in their
saddles. He motioned to them, and they, thinking that the horoscope
was to be given, galloped once more to the tent. 'My Mongol brothers,'
said Samdadchiemba, 'in future be more careful: watch your herds well,
and you won't be robbed. Retain these words of mine in your memory:
they are worth all the horoscopes in the world.'
Samdad--the reader will perhaps thank us for the abbreviation--gravely
returned to the tent; and the Tartars did not dismount and whip him,
as two horsemen of any other nation under the sun would have done, but
quietly resumed their journey. It appeared that Samdad had once acted
as diviner on a similar occasion. The missing valuable was a bull, and
the sage having called for eleven stones, counted, arranged and
rearranged them with great gravity, and then appeared to meditate. 'If
you would find your bull, go seek him in the north,' said the
magician; and without querulously inquiring, like Shakspeare's
Richard, what Taurus did in that region, the Mongols pursued a
northern course, and by mere chance actually discovered the animal.
Samdad was entertained for a week, and took his departure laden with
butter and tea. He hinted his regret that 'his attachment to Mother
Church' prevented him from playing the soothsayer to the two horsemen.
A peculiarity in Tartar manners, regarding stolen horses when
abstracted near caravans, is likely to prove of more service than
casting horoscopes. Some time after the occurrence mentioned, the
missionaries lost a horse and mule. 'We each mounted a camel, and made
a circuit in search of the animals. Our search being futile, we
resolved to proceed to the Mongol encampment, and inform them that our
loss had taken place near their habitation. _By a law among the
Tartars_, when animals are lost from a caravan, the persons occupying
the nearest encampment are bound either to find them or replace
them.... This it is which has contributed to render the Mongols so
skilful in tracking. A mere glance at the slight traces left by an
animal on the grass, suffices to inform the Mongol pursuer how long it
is since it passed, and whether or not it bore a rider; and the track
once found, they follow it throughout all its meanderings, however
complicated.
'We had no sooner explained our loss to the Mongol chief, than he said
to us cheerfully: "Sirs Lamas, do not permit sorrow to invade your
hearts. Your animals cannot be lost; in these plains there are neither
robbers nor associates of robbers. I will send in quest of your
horses. If we do not find them, you may select what others you please
in their place from our herd. We would have you leave this place as
happy as you came to it."' Eight horses darted off in pursuit; the
missionaries were invited to take tea in the interim, and in two hours
the strayed cattle were recovered. We should like to know in what
other country travellers would be so treated?
Regal personages in these regions observe the characteristic simple
manners of the country. Our pilgrims were pursuing their solitary way,
when the tramping of many horses and the sound of many voices
disturbed the silence of the desert. A large caravan belonging to the
queen of Mourguevan overtook them, and a mandarin addressed them.
'Sirs, where is your country?'
'We come from the west.'
'Through what districts have your beneficial shadows passed?'
'We have come from Tolon Noor.'
'Has peace accompanied your progress?'
'Hitherto we have journeyed in all tranquillity. And you--are you at
peace, and what is your country?'
'We are Khalkhas of the kingdom of Mourguevan.'
After some other Oriental queries and answers, her majesty comes up.
The cavalcade halted, and the camels formed into a semicircle, the
centre being occupied by a close four-wheeled carriage. Two mandarins,
'decorated with the blue button,' opened the door, and handed out the
queen, who was attired in a long silk robe.
'Sirs Lamas,' said she, raising her hands, 'is this place auspicious
for an encampment?'
'Royal pilgrim of Mourguevan,' said we, 'you may light your fires here
in all security. For ourselves, we must proceed on our way, for the
sun was already high when we folded our tent.'
The Tartars are divided into two grand classes--lamas and laymen. The
former act as priests, lawyers, physicians, painters, decorators, &c.,
and in fact monopolise every learned and liberal art and profession.
Of course, they are held in high repute; and our travellers having,
like Joseph Wolff, adopted sacerdotal costume, they were everywhere
received with the honours and respect awarded to the indigenous
clergy. It will duly appear, from subsequent illustrations, that mere
ecclesiasticism did not secure the hospitality and kindness which they
experienced at all hands; but even after making allowance for the
national devotion to the cloth, the attentions shewed by the Mongols
are often marked by a delicate sense of the hospitable. On one
occasion, M. Huc and his companions encountered an unusual storm of
rain and wind. After travelling several weary miles, Samdad contrived
to erect the tent in a place that, for the locality, was tolerable,
but no more. 'My spiritual fathers,' observed the guide, 'I told you
we should not die to-day of thirst, but I am not at all sure that we
don't run some risk of dying of hunger.' In point of fact, there
seemed no possibility of making a fire. There was not a tree, not a
shrub, not a root to be seen. As to argols, the rain had long since
reduced that combustible of the desert to a liquid pulp. The pilgrims
were about to partake of the primitive fare of meal steeped in cold
water--a cheerless beverage to three men drenched to the skin--when at
the critical juncture up came two Tartars.
'Sirs Lamas, this day the heavens have fallen. You doubtless have been
unable to make a fire.'
'Alas! how should we make a fire? we have no argols.'
'Men are all brothers, and belong to each other; but laymen should
honour and serve the holy ones: therefore it is that we have come to
make a fire for you.'
The fire soon blazed and crackled, and a hot repast speedily rejoiced
the jaded frames of the two priests and the imp Samdad.
The domiciliary hospitalities of the Tartars are frank and artless,
forming a marked contrast to the formal reception of strangers among
the Chinese. 'On entering, you give the word of peace, _amor_ or
_mendon_, to the company generally. You then seat yourself on the
right of the head of the family, whom you find squatting on the floor
opposite the entrance. Next, everybody takes from a purse, suspended
at his girdle, a little snuff-bottle, and mutual pinches accompany
such phrases as these: "Is the pasturage with you rich and abundant?"
"Are your herds in fine condition?" "Did you travel in peace?" "Does
tranquillity prevail?" The mistress then silently holds out her hand
to the visitor. He as silently takes from his breast-pocket a small
wooden bowl, the indispensable _vade mecum_ of all Tartars, and
presents it to the hostess, who fills it with tea and milk, and
returns it.' In higher families, a table is spread with butter,
oatmeal, millet, cheese, all in small boxes of polished wood; and
these luxuries are all mixed in the everlasting tea. Amongst the
uppermost aristocratic classes, fermented milk is proffered; but
Europeans would perhaps regard this liquor as more honoured by being
set aside than indulged in.
We now proceed to exhibit some traits of Tartar character, as
developed in their intercourse with their Asiatic brethren. As usual,
a horseman overtakes or meets the travellers; and after the customary
salutations, the missionaries inquired why he and his brethren did not
cultivate corn, instead of allowing every field to run to grass.
'We Mongols,' replied this stranger, 'are formed for living in tents,
and pasturing cattle. So long as we kept to that in the kingdom of
Gechekten, we were rich and happy. Now, ever since the Mongols have
set themselves to cultivating the land, and building houses, they have
become poor. The _Kitats_ (Chinese) have taken possession of the
country: flocks, herds, lands, houses--all have passed into their
hands. There remain to us only a few prairies, on which still live
under their tents such of the Mongols as have not been forced by utter
destitution to emigrate to other lands.'
'But if the Chinese are so baneful to you, why did you allow them to
penetrate into your country?'
'We took pity on these wicked Kitats, who came to us weeping, to
solicit our charity. We allowed them, through pure compassion, to
cultivate a few patches of land. The Mongols insensibly followed their
example, and abandoned the nomadic life. They drank the wine of the
Kitats, and smoked their tobacco on credit; they bought their
manufactures on credit, at double the real value. When the day of
payment came, there was no money ready, and the Mongols had to yield
to the violence of their creditors houses, lands, flocks, everything.'
'But could you not seek justice from the tribunals?'
'Justice from the tribunals! That is out of the question. The Kitats
are skilful to talk and to lie. It is impossible for a Mongol to gain
a suit against a Kitat. Sirs Lamas, the kingdom of Gechekten is
undone!'
After-experience amply corroborated the truth of these statements.
'The commercial intercourse between the Tartars and the Chinese is
revoltingly iniquitous on the part of the latter. So soon as the
Mongols arrive in a trading town, they are snapped up by some Chinese,
who carry them off, as it were, by main force to their houses, give
them tea for themselves, and forage for their horses, and cajole them
in every conceivable way. The Mongols take all they hear to be
perfectly genuine, and congratulate themselves--conscious, as they
are, of their inaptitude for business--upon their good-fortune in thus
meeting with brothers _Ahaton_, as they say, in whom they can place
full confidence, and who will undertake to manage their whole business
for them. A good dinner, provided in the back-shop, completes the
illusion--and when once the Chinese has established his hold, he
employs all the resources of a skilful and utterly unprincipled
knavery. He keeps his victim in his house, eating, drinking, and
smoking one day after another, until his subordinates have sold all
the poor man's cattle, or whatever else he has to sell, and bought for
him in return the commodities he requires, at prices double and treble
the market value. But so plausible is the Chinese, and so simple is
the Tartar, that the latter invariably departs with the most entire
confidence in the immense philanthropy of the former, and with a
promise to return, when he has other goods to sell, to the
establishment where he has been treated so fraternally.'
The missionaries were themselves mistaken for Tartars when they
visited the 'Blue Town,' and every kind of imposition was attempted to
be practised on them. The hotel scouts assailed them at their first
entry, and almost compelled them, by physical force, to become their
guests; shopkeepers cozened on all hands; and even bankers
condescended to cheat. Messrs Gabet and Huc wished to exchange silver
for Chinese coin current. The Tartars can weigh, but cannot calculate,
and accordingly the bank-teller of Blue Town, after gravely consulting
his _souan-pan_ (exchange-table), announced the value to be about a
thousand _sapeks_ less than it should have been. The missionaries
remonstrated, and a colleague was called in to check the sum, but he,
with due gravity, declared that the first was right. A bystander
interfered, and declared in favour of the strangers. 'Sirs Lamas,'
said the banker, 'your mathematics are better than mine.' 'Oh, not at
all,' replied we, with a profound bow; 'your souan-pan is excellent;
but who ever heard of a calculator always exempt from error?' These
phrases were, it seems, rigorously required under the circumstances by
Chinese politeness. Whenever any person in China is compromised by any
awkward incident, those present always carefully refrain from any
observation which may make him blush, or, as the Chinese call it, take
away his face. A further proof of Chinese cupidity was afforded by the
admission of a gentleman, whom we may take the liberty of denominating
an Oriental bagman. This worthy arrived at an inn after our travellers
had secured all the accommodation.
'Peace and happiness unto you, Sirs Lamas; do you need the whole of
your room, or can you accommodate me?'
'Why not? We are all brothers, and should serve each other.'
'Words of excellence! You are Tartars, I am Chinese; yet comprehending
the claims of hospitality, you act upon the truth that all men are
brothers.'
'Whither are you bound? Are you going to buy up salt or catsup for
some Chinese company?'
'No; I represent a great commercial house at Peking, and I am
collecting some debts from the Tartars.... You, like myself, are
Tartar-eaters--you eat them by prayers, I by commerce. And why not?
The Mongols are poor simpletons, and we may as well get their money as
anybody else.... Oh, we devour them; we pick them clean! Whatever they
see, when they come into our towns, they want; and when we know who
they are, and where we can find them, we let them have goods upon
credit of course at a considerable advance upon the price, and upon
interest at 30 and 40 per cent., which is quite right and necessary.
In China, the emperor's laws do not allow this; it is only done with
the Tartars. Well, they don't pay the money, and the interest goes on
until there is a good sum owing, worth the coming for. When we come
for it, we take all the cattle and sheep and horses we can get hold of
for the interest, and leave the capital debt and future interest to be
paid next time, and so it goes on from one generation to another. Oh,
a Tartar debt is a gold-mine!'
The yearly settlement of accounts amongst the Chinese furnishes
another curious chapter in their commercial life. Bills are made up to
the last few days of the year, 'and every Chinese being at once debtor
and creditor, every Chinese is hunting his debtors and hunted by his
creditors. He who returns from his neighbour's house, which he has
been throwing into utter confusion by his clamorous demands for what
the neighbour owes him, finds his own house turned inside out by an
uproarious creditor; and so the thing goes round. The whole town is a
scene of vociferation, disputation, and fighting. On the last day of
the year, disorder attains its height; people rush in all directions
with anything they can scratch together to raise money upon at the
broker's or pawnbroker's--the shops of which tradesmen are absolutely
besieged throughout the day with profferers of clothes, bedding,
furniture, cooking utensils, and movables of every description. Those
who have already cleared their houses in this way, and yet have not
satisfied the demands upon them, post off to their relations and
friends, to borrow something or other, which they vow shall be
returned immediately, but which immediately takes its way to the
_tang-pon_ or pawnbroker's. This species of anarchy continues till
midnight, then calm resumes its sway. No one, after the twelfth hour
has struck, can claim a debt, or even make the slightest allusion to
it. You now only hear the words of peace and good-will; everybody
fraternises with everybody. Those who were just before on the point of
twisting their neighbour's neck, now twine their friendly arms about
it.'
Tartar warriors and Tartar robbers are also peculiar of their kind.
The warrior presents a curious combination of the national simplicity
with the spirit of the ancient Gascon. Two of those military gentlemen
gave a singular account of the war with the _Rebels of the South_, as
the English are designated. They belonged to the Eight Banners, or
army of reserve--and stated, that when at war the grand-master (the
emperor of China) first sent the Kitats against the enemy; next the
banners of the Solon country are set in motion; and if they fail, then
'we (the Tchakars) take the field, and the mere sound of our march
suffices to reduce the rebels to subjection!' In the English war, the
first two classes availed not, and then came the turn of the sacred
order. 'The Kitats told us everywhere that we were marching upon
certain and unavailing death. "What can you do against sea-monsters?
They live in the water like fish: when you least expect them, they
appear on the surface, and hurl the fire-bombs at you; while the
instant your bow is bent to shoot them, down they dive like frogs."'
The third class was not to be intimidated; the lamas had opened the
_Book of Celestial Secrets_, and predicted victory; and on they
marched, till met with the intelligence that the rebels, hearing of
the approach of this invincible legion, had sued for and obtained
peace!
The robbers of this extraordinary territory are also entitled to claim
credit for their share of eccentricity. 'They are extremely polite;
they do not rudely clap a pistol to your ear, and bawl at you: "Your
money or your life!" No; they mildly advance with a courteous
salutation: "Venerable elder brother, I am on foot; pray lend me your
horse. I've got no money; be good enough to lend me your purse. It's
quite cold to-day; oblige me with the loan of your coat." If the
venerable elder brother charitably complies, the matter ends with:
"Thanks, brother!" but otherwise, the request is forthwith emphasised
with the arguments of a cudgel; and if these do not convince, recourse
is had to the sabre.'
As a matter of course, Chinese thieves belong in contrast to the
species of which the 'Artful Dodger' may be regarded as the type. The
_modus operandi_ of Eastern appropriators is this: 'Two of them,
associated together for the purpose, hawk about various articles of
merchandise--boots, skin-coats, bricks of tea, and what not. They
offer these for sale to travellers. While one of them engages the
attention of the destined victim by displaying his goods and
bargaining, the other ferrets about, and pockets whatever he can lay
his hands on. These rascals have inconceivable skill in counting your
sapeks for you, in such a way as to finger fifty or one hundred of
them without your having the slightest notion as to what is going on.
One day, two of these little thieves came to offer for our purchase a
pair of leathern boots. Excellent boots, said they--boots such as we
would not find in any shop in the whole town; boots that would keep
out the rain for days; and as to cheapness, perfectly unexampled. If
we missed this opportunity, we should never have such another. Only
just before they had been offered 1200 sapeks for them! As we did not
want boots, we replied that we could not have them at any price.
Thereupon the acting merchant assumed a lofty tone of generosity. We
were foreigners, we should have them for 1000 sapeks, 900, 800, 700.
"Well," said we, "we certainly don't want any boots just now; yet
doubtless, as you say, these are very cheap, and it will be worth
while to buy them as a reserve." The bargain was accordingly
concluded; we took our purse and counted out 700 sapeks to the
merchant, who counted them over himself, under our very eyes,
pronounced the amount correct, and once more laid the coin before us.
He then called out to his companion, who was poking about in the
court-yard: "Here, I have sold these capital boots for 700 sapeks."
"Nonsense," cried the other; "700 sapeks! I wont hear of such a
thing!" "Very well," said we; "come, take your boots, and be off with
you!" He was off, and so quickly, that we thought it expedient to
count our sapeks once more: there were 150 of them gone; and that was
not all. While one of these rascals had been pocketing our money under
our very nose, the other had bagged two great iron pins that we had
driven into the court-yard for the purpose of our camels. Therefore,
we took a resolution, better late than never, to admit in future no
merchant whatever into our room.'
We cannot sufficiently regret, that two travellers who have furnished
us with such interesting accounts of territories comparatively so
little unexplored, should, after a brief sojourn, have been compelled
to quit the scene of their labours. After eighteen months' travel,
Messrs Huc and Gabet arrived at the Thibetian town of Lha-Ssa, where,
under the protection of the local authorities, they remained
unmolested for several weeks; but their presence excited the jealousy
of Ki-Chan, the deputy of the emperor of China, and at his instigation
the nomekhan of Lha-Ssa ordered them to quit. They ultimately settled
at Macao in 1846, and there compiled the narrative from which we have
been quoting.