Young Lama converted to Christianity--Lamasery of Tchortchi--Alms for the
Construction of Religious Houses--Aspect of the Buddhist
Temples--Recitation of Lama Prayers--Decorations, Paintings, and
Sculptures of the Buddhist Temples--Topography of the _Great Kouren_ in
the country of the Khalkhas--Journey of the _Guison-Tamba_ to Peking--The
_Kouren_ Of the Thousand Lamas--Suit between the Lama-King and his
Ministers--Purchase of a Kid--Eagles of Tartary--Western
Toumet--Agricultural Tartars--Arrival at the Blue Town--Glance at the
Mantchou Nation--Mantchou Literature--State of Christianity in
Mantchouria--Topography and productions of Eastern Tartary--Skill of the
Mantchous with the Bow.
Although we had never visited the Lamasery of Tchortchi, we,
nevertheless, knew a good deal about it from the information that had
been given us. It was here that the young Lama was educated who came to
teach M. Gabet the Mongol language, and whose conversion to Christianity
gave such great hopes for the propagation of the gospel among the Tartar
tribes. He was twenty-five years of age when he quitted his Lamasery, in
1837; there he had passed fourteen years in the study of Lama books, and
had become well acquainted with Mongol and Mantchou literature. He had
as yet but a very superficial knowledge of the Thibetian language. His
tutor, an old Lama, well-educated and much respected, not merely in the
Lamasery, but throughout the whole extent of the Yellowish Banner, had
cherished great hopes of his disciple; it was, therefore, very
reluctantly that he had consented to a temporary separation, which he
limited to a month. Before his departure the pupil prostrated himself,
according to custom, at the feet of his master, and begged him to consult
for him the Book of Oracles. After having turned over some leaves of a
Thibetian book, the old Lama addressed to him these words: "For fourteen
years thou hast remained by thy master's side like a faithful Chabi
(disciple). Now, for the first time, thou art about to go from me. The
future fills me with anxiety; be careful then to return at the appointed
time. If thy absence is prolonged beyond one moon thy destiny condemns
thee never more to set foot in our holy Lamasery." The youthful pupil
departed, resolved to obey to the letter the instructions of his tutor.
When he arrived at our mission of Si-Wan, M. Gabet chose, as the subject
of his Mongol studies, an historical summary of the Christian religion.
The oral and written conferences lasted nearly a month. The young Lama,
subdued by the force of truth, publicly abjured Buddhism, received the
name of Paul, and was ultimately baptized, after a long course of study.
The prediction of the old Lama had its perfect accomplishment; Paul,
since his conversion, has never again set foot in the Lamasery which he
quitted.
About 2,000 Lamas inhabit the Lamasery of Tchortchi, which, it is said,
is the favourite Lamasery of the Emperor, who has loaded it with
donations and privileges. The Lamas in charge of it all receive a
pension from the court of Peking. Those who absent themselves from it by
permission, and for reasons approved by the superiors, continue to share
in the distributions of money and the provisions that are made during
their absence; on their return they duly receive the full amount of their
share. Doubtless that air of ease pervading the Lamasery of Tchortchi is
to be attributed to the imperial favours. The houses in it are neat,
sometimes even elegant; and you never see there, as in other places,
Lamas covered with dirty rags. The study of the Mantchou language is
much cultivated there, an incontestable proof of the great devotion of
the Lamasery to the reigning dynasty.
With some rare exceptions the imperial benefactions go very little way
towards the construction of the Lamaseries. Those grand and sumptuous
monuments, so often met with in the desert, are due to the free and
spontaneous zeal of the Mongols. So simple and economical in their dress
and manner of living, these people are generous, we might say,
astonishingly prodigal in all that concerns religious worship and
expenditure. When it is resolved to construct a Buddhist temple,
surrounded by its Lamasery, Lama collectors go on their way forthwith,
provided with passports, attesting the authenticity of their mission.
They disperse themselves throughout the kingdom of Tartary, beg alms from
tent to tent in the name of the Old Buddha. Upon entering a tent and
explaining the object of their journey, by showing the sacred basin in
which the offerings are placed, they are received with joyful enthusiasm.
There is no one but gives something. The rich place in the "badir"
ingots of gold and silver; those who do not possess the precious metals,
offer oxen, horses, or camels. The poorest contribute according to the
extent of their means; they give lumps of butter, furs, ropes made of the
hair of camels and horses. Thus, in a short time, are collected immense
sums. Then, in these deserts, apparently so poor, you see rise up, as if
by enchantment, edifices whose grandeur and wealth would defy the
resources of the richest potentates. It was, doubtless, in the same
manner, by the zealous co-operation of the faithful, that were
constructed in Europe those magnificent cathedrals whose stupendous
beauty is an abiding reproach to modern selfishness and indifference.
[Picture: Buddhist temple]
The Lamaseries you see in Tartary are all constructed of brick and stone.
Only the poorest Lamas build for themselves habitations of earth, and
these are always so well whitewashed that they closely resemble the rest.
The temples are generally built with considerable elegance, and with
great solidity; but these monuments always seem crushed, being too low in
proportion to their dimensions. Around the Lamasery rise, numerous and
without order, towers or pyramids, slender and tapering, resting
generally on huge bases, little in harmony with the tenuity of the
constructions they support. It would be difficult to say to what order
of architecture the Buddhic temples of Tartary belong. They are always
fantastical constructions of monstrous colonnades, peristyles with
twisted columns, and endless ascents. Opposite the great gate is a kind
of altar of wood or stone, usually in the form of a cone reversed; on
this the idols are placed, mostly seated cross-legged. These idols are
of colossal stature, but their faces are fine and regular, except in the
preposterous length of the ears; they belong to the Caucasian type, and
are wholly distinct from the monstrous, diabolical physiognomies of the
Chinese Pou Ssa.
Before the great idol, and on the same level with it, is a gilt seat
where the living Fo, the Grand Lama of the Lamasery is seated. All
around the temple are long tables almost level with the ground, a sort of
ottomans covered with carpet; and between each row there is a vacant
space, so that the Lamas may move about freely.
When the hour for prayer is come, a Lama, whose office it is to summon
the guests of the convent, proceeds to the great gate of the temple, and
blows, as loud as he can, a sea-conch, successively towards the four
cardinal points. Upon hearing this powerful instrument, audible for a
league round, the Lamas put on the mantle and cap of ceremony and
assemble in the great inner court. When the time is come the sea-conch
sounds again, the great gate is opened, and the living Fo enters the
temple. As soon as he is seated upon the altar all the Lamas lay their
red boots at the vestibule, and advance barefoot and in silence. As they
pass him they worship the living Fo by three prostrations, and then place
themselves upon the divan, each according to his dignity. They sit
cross-legged; always in a circle.
As soon as the master of the ceremonies has given the signal, by tinkling
a little bell, each murmurs in a low voice a preliminary prayer, whilst
he unrolls, upon his knees, the prayers directed by the rubric. After
this short recitation, follows a moment of profound silence; the bell is
again rung, and then commences a psalm in double chorus, grave and
melodious. The Thibetian prayers, ordinarily in verse, and written in a
metrical and well-cadenced style, are marvellously adapted for harmony.
At certain pauses, indicated by the rubric, the Lama musicians execute a
piece of music, little in concert with the melodious gravity of the
psalmody. It is a confused and deafening noise of bells, cymbals,
tambourines, sea-conchs', trumpets, pipes, etc., each musician playing on
his instrument with a kind of ecstatic fury, trying with his brethren who
shall make the greatest noise.
[Picture: Interior of Buddhist Temple]
The interior of the temple is usually filled with ornaments, statues, and
pictures, illustrating the life of Buddha, and the various
transmigrations of the more illustrious Lamas. Vases in copper, shining
like gold, of the size and form of teacups, are placed in great numbers
on a succession of steps, in the form of an amphitheatre, before the
idols. It is in these vases that the people deposit their offerings of
milk, butter, Mongol wine, and meal. The extremities of each step
consist of censers, in which are ever burning aromatic plants, gathered
on the sacred mountains of Thibet. Rich silk stuffs, covered with tinsel
and gold embroidery, form, on the heads of the idols, canopies from which
hang pennants and lanterns of painted paper or transparent horn.
The Lamas are the only artists who contribute to the ornament and
decoration of the temples. The paintings are quite distinct from the
taste and the principles of art as understood in Europe. The fantastical
and the grotesque predominate inside and out, both in carvings and
statuary, and the personages represented, with the exception of Buddha,
have generally a monstrous and satanic aspect. The clothes seem never to
have been made for the persons upon whom they are placed. The idea given
is that of broken limbs concealed beneath awkward garments.
Amongst these Lama paintings, however, you sometimes come across
specimens by no means destitute of beauty. One day, during a visit in
the kingdom of Gechekten to the great temple called _Alton-Somne_ (Temple
of Gold), we saw a picture which struck us with astonishment. It was a
large piece representing, in the centre, Buddha seated on a rich carpet.
Around this figure, which was of life size, there was a sort of glory,
composed of miniatures, allegorically expressing the Thousand Virtues of
Buddha. We could scarcely withdraw ourselves from this picture,
remarkable as it was, not only for the purity and grace of the design,
but also for the expression of the faces and the splendour of the
colouring. All the personages seemed full of life. We asked an old
Lama, who was attending us over the place, what he knew about this
admirable work. "Sirs," said he, raising his joined hands to his
forehead in token of respect, "this picture is a treasure of the remotest
antiquity; it comprehends within its surface the whole doctrine of
Buddha. It is not a Mongol painting; it came from Thibet, and was
executed by a saint of the _Eternal Sanctuary_."
The artists here are, in general, more successful in the landscapes than
in the epic subjects. Flowers, birds, trees, mythological animals, are
represented with great truth and with infinitely pleasing effect. The
colouring is wonderfully full of life and freshness. It is only a pity
that the painters of these landscapes have so very indifferent a notion
as to perspective and chiaro-oscuro.
The Lamas are far better sculptors than painters, and they are
accordingly very lavish of carvings in their Buddhist temples.
Everywhere in and about these edifices you see works of this class of
art, in quantity bespeaking the fecundity of the artist's chisel, but of
a quality which says little for his taste. First, outside the temples
are an infinite number of tigers, lions, and elephants crouching upon
blocks of granite; then the stone balustrades of the steps leading to the
great gates are covered with fantastic sculptures representing birds,
reptiles, and beasts, of all kinds, real and imaginary. Inside, the
walls are decorated with relievos in wood or stone, executed with great
spirit and truth.
Though the Mongol Lamaseries cannot be compared, in point either of
extent or wealth, with those of Thibet, there are some of them which are
highly celebrated and greatly venerated among the adorers of Buddha.
The most famous of all is that of the Great Kouren (enclosure), in the
country of the Khalkhas. As we had an opportunity of visiting this
edifice in one of our journeys into Northern Tartary, we will here give
some details respecting it. It stands on the bank of the river Toula, at
the entrance to an immense forest, which extends thence northwards, six
or seven days' journey to the confines of Russia, and eastward, nearly
five hundred miles to the land of the Solons, in Mantchouria. On your
way to the Great Kouren, over the desert of Gobi, you have to traverse,
for a whole month, an ocean of sand, the mournful monotony of which is
not relieved by a single stream or a single shrub; but on reaching the
Kougour mountains, the western boundary of the states of the
Guison-Tamba, or King-Lama, the scene changes to picturesque and fertile
valleys, and verdant pasture-hills, crowned with forests that seem as old
as the world itself. Through the largest valley flows the river Toula,
which, rising in the Barka mountains, runs from east to west through the
pastures of the Lamasery, and then entering Siberia, falls into Lake
Baikal.
The Lamasery stands on the northern bank of the river, on the slope of a
mountain. The various temples inhabited by the Guison-Tamba, and other
Grand Lamas, are distinguishable from the rest of the structure by their
elevation and their gilded roofs. Thirty thousand Lamas dwell in the
Lamasery itself, or in smaller Lamaseries erected about it. The plain
adjoining it is always covered with the tents of the pilgrims who resort
hither from all parts to worship Buddha. Here you find the U-Pi-Ta-Dze,
or "Fish-skin Tartars," encamped beside the Torgot Tartars from the
summits of the sacred mountains (Bokte-Oula), the Thibetians and the
Peboum of the Himalaya, with their long-haired oxen, mingling with the
Mantchous from the banks of the Songari and Amor. There is an incessant
movement of tents set up and taken down, and of pilgrims coming and going
on horses, camels, oxen, mules, or waggons, and on foot.
Viewed from the distance, the white cells of the Lamas, built in
horizontal lines one above the other on the sides of the mountain, seem
the steps of a grand altar, of which the tabernacle is the temple of the
Guison-Tamba. In the depths of that sanctuary, all resplendent with gold
and bright colouring, the Lama-King, The Holy, as he is called, _par
excellence_, receives the homage of the faithful, ever prostrate, in
succession, before him. There is not a Khalkha Tartar who does not glory
in the title of the _Holy One's Disciple_. Wherever you meet a man from
the district of the Great Kouren, and ask him who he is, his proud reply
is always this: _Koure Bokte-Ain Chabi_, (I am a disciple of the Holy
Kouren.)
Half-a-league front the Lamasery, on the banks of the Toula, is a
commercial station of Chinese. Their wooden or mud huts are fortified by
a circle of high palisades to keep out the pilgrims, who, despite their
devotion, are extremely given to thieving when ever the opportunity
occurs. A watch and some ingots of silver, stolen during the night from
M. Gabet, left us no doubt as to the want of probity in the Holy One's
disciples.
A good deal of trade is carried on here, Chinese and Russian goods
changing hands to a very large extent. The payments of the former are
invariably made in tea-bricks. Whether the article sold be a house, a
horse, a camel, or a bale of goods, the price is settled for in bricks of
tea. Five of these represent, in value, an ounce of silver; the monetary
system, therefore, which Franklin so much disliked, is not in use by
these Northern Tartars.
The Court of Peking entertains several Mandarins at the Great Kouren,
ostensibly for the purpose of preserving order among the Chinese traders,
but in reality to keep a watch upon the Guison-Tamba, always an object of
suspicion to the Chinese Emperors, who bear in mind that the famous
Tching-Kis-Khan was a Khalkha, and that the memory of his conquests has
not passed away from the hearts of this warlike people. The slightest
movement at the Great Kouren excites alarm at Peking.
In 1839 the Guison-Tamba announced his intention of paying a visit to the
Emperor Tao-Kouan. The Court of Peking became horribly alarmed, and
negotiators were dispatched to divert, if possible, the Guison-Tamba from
his journey; but all they could effect was, that he should be attended by
only 3,000 Lamas, and that three other Khalkha sovereigns who were to
have accompanied him should be left behind.
Immediately upon the Guison-Tamba's departure on his progress, all the
tribes of Tartary put themselves in motion, and took up positions on the
road he was to travel, in vast multitudes, each tribe bringing for his
acceptance offerings of horses, oxen, sheep, gold and silver bullion, and
precious stones. Wells were dug for him at intervals throughout the
length of the great desert of Gobi, and at each of these were placed for
his use, by the chieftain of the particular locality, a store of
provisions of all sorts. The Lama King was in a yellow palanquin,
carried by four horses, each led by a dignitary of the Lamasery. The
escort of 3,000 Lamas were before, behind, and on each side of the
palanquin, jovially dashing about on horses and camels. The road almost
throughout was lined with spectators, or rather with worshippers, eagerly
awaiting the arrival of the Holy, and upon his approach, falling, first
on their knees, and then on their faces, before him, their hands crossed
over the head. It seemed the progress of a divinity come upon earth to
bless its people. On reaching the Great Wall, the Guison-Tamba, ceasing
to be a divinity, became only the chief of some nomad tribes, scorned by
the people of China, but feared by the Court of China, more alive to
political contingencies. Only one half of the 3,000 Lamas were permitted
to attend their chief further, the rest remaining encamped north of the
Great Wall.
The Guison-Tamba sojourned at Peking for three months, receiving an
occasional visit from the Emperor; and from the Grand Dignitaries. He
then relieved the celestial city from his troublesome presence, and after
paying visits to the Lamaseries of the Five Towers, and of the Blue Town,
set out on his return to his own states, when he died, the victim, it was
asserted, of a slow poison that had been administered to him by order of
the Emperor. The Khalkhas, however, were more irritated than intimidated
by his death, for they are persuaded that their Guison-Tamba never
actually dies. All he does, when he appears to die, is to transmigrate
to some other country, whence he returns to them younger, more vigorous,
more active than ever. In 1844, accordingly, they were told that their
living Buddha was incarnate in Thibet, and they went thither, in solemn
procession, to fetch the child of five years old who was indicated to
them, and to place him on his imperishable throne. While we were
encamped at Kou-Kou-Noor, on the banks of the Blue Sea, we saw pass by us
the great caravan of Khalkhas, who were on their way to Lha-Ssa to bring
home the Lama-King of the Great Kouren.
The Kouren of the Thousand Lamas--_Mingan Lamane Koure_--also a
celebrated Lamasery, which dates from the invasion of China by the
Mantchous. When Tchun-Tche, {93} founder of the dynasty now reigning in
China, descended from the forests of Mantchouria to march upon Peking, he
met on his way a Lama of Thibet, whom he consulted as to the issue of his
enterprise. The Lama promised him complete success, whereupon Tchun-Tche
ordered him to come and see him when he should be installed at Peking.
After the Mantchous had rendered themselves masters of the capital of the
empire, the Lama did not fail to keep his appointment. The Emperor at
once recognised the person who had favoured him with such an auspicious
horoscope; and, in token of his gratitude, allotted to him a large extent
of land whereon to construct a Lamasery, and revenues sufficient for the
support of a thousand Lamas. From the time of its erection, however, the
Lamasery of the Thousand Lamas has grown and grown, so that at present it
contains more than four thousand Lamas, though its original designation
still remains. By degrees, traders have established themselves around
it, and have built a considerable town, jointly occupied by Chinese and
by Tartars. The principal commerce of the place is in beasts.
The Grand Lama of the Lamasery is, at the same time, sovereign of the
district. It is he who makes laws, who administers justice, and who
appoints magistrates. When he dies, his subjects go and seek for him in
Thibet, where he is always understood to metempsychosise himself.
At the time of our visit to the Kouren of the Thousand Lamas, everything
was in utter confusion, by reason of a suit between the Lama King and his
four ministers, who are called, in the Mongol language, Dchassak. The
latter had taken upon themselves to marry, and to build houses for
themselves apart from the Lamasery, things altogether subversive of Lama
discipline. The Grand Lama essayed to bring them to order; the four
Dchassak, instead of submitting, had collected a whole heap of
grievances, upon which they framed an accusation against their chief
before the Tou-Toun, the high Mantchou Mandarin, who acts as
Secretary-of-State for the Tartar department.
The suit had been under prosecution two months when we visited the
Lamasery, and we soon saw how the establishment was suffering from the
absence of its principals. Study or prayer there was none; the great
outer gate was open, and seemed not to have been closed at all for some
time past. We entered the interior; all we found there was silence and
solitude. The grass was growing in the courts, and upon the walls. The
doors of the temples were padlocked, but through the gratings we could
see that the seats, the altars, the paintings, the statues, were all
covered with dust; everything manifested that the Lamasery had been for
some time in a state of utter neglect. The absence of the superiors, and
the uncertainty as to the result of the suit, had unloosened all the
bonds of discipline. The Lamas had dispersed, and people began to regard
the very existence of the Lamasery as extremely compromised. We have
since heard that, thanks to enormous bribery, the suit terminated in
favour of the Lama King, and that the four Dchassak were compelled to
conform themselves in all respects to the orders of their sovereign.
We may add to the enumeration of the many celebrated Lamaseries, those of
Blue Town, of Tolon-Noor, of Ge-Ho-Eul; and within the Great Wall, that
of Peking, and that of the Five Towers in Chan-Si.
After quitting the Lamasery of Tchortchi, just as we were entering upon
the Red Banner, we met a Mongol hunter, who was carrying behind him, on
his horse, a fine roebuck he had just killed. We had been so long
reduced to our insipid oatmeal, seasoned with a few bits of mutton fat,
that the sight of the venison inspired us with a somewhat decided desire
to vary our entertainment; we felt, moreover, that our stomachs, weakened
by our daily privations, imperiously demanded a more substantial
alimentation. After saluting the hunter, therefore, we asked him if he
was disposed to sell his venison. "Sirs Lamas," replied he, "when I
placed myself in ambush to await the deer, I had no thought of trading in
my head. The Chinese carmen, stationed up yonder beyond Tchortchi,
wanted to buy my game for four hundred sapeks, but I said No! But to
you, Sirs Lamas, I speak not as to Kitat; there is my roebuck: give me
what you please for it." We told Samdadchiemba to pay the hunter five
hundred sapeks and hanging the venison over the neck of one of the
camels, we proceeded on our way.
Five hundred sapeks are equivalent to about 2s. ld., and this is the
ordinary price of a roebuck in Tartary; the price of a sheep is thrice
that amount. Venison is little esteemed by the Tartars, and still less
by the Chinese; black meat, say they, is never so good as white. Yet in
the larger cities of China, and especially at Peking, black meat has
honourable place on the tables of the rich and of the mandarins; a
circumstance, however, to be attributed to the scarcity of the article,
and a desire for variety. The Mantchous, indeed, do not come within the
preceding observation; for, great lovers of hunting, they are also great
lovers of its produce, and especially of bears, stags, and pheasants.
It was just past noon when we came to a spot marvellously beautiful.
After passing through a narrow opening between two rocks, whose summits
seemed lost in the clouds, we found ourselves in a large enclosure,
surrounded by lofty hills, on which grew a number of scattered pines. An
abundant fountain supplied a small stream, whose banks were covered with
angelica and wild mint. The rivulet, after making the circuit of the
enclosure, amid rich grass, had its issue thence by an opening similar to
that by which we had entered the place. No sooner had a glance
comprehended the attractions of the spot, than Samdadchiemba moved that
we should at once set up our tent there. "Let us go no further to-day,"
said he; "let us encamp here. We have not gone far this morning, it is
true, and the sun is still very high; but we have got the venison to
prepare, and should therefore encamp earlier than usual." No one
opposing the honourable gentleman's motion, it was put and carried
unanimously, and we proceeded to set up our tent by the side of the
spring.
Samdadchiemba had often talked of his great dexterity in the dissection
of animals, and he was delighted with this opportunity of displaying his
excellence in this respect. Having suspended the roebuck from a
pine-branch, sharpened his knife upon a tent-pin, and turned up his
sleeves to the elbow, he asked whether we would have the animal
dismembered _a la Chinoise_, _a la Turque_, or _a la Tartare_.
Unprovided with any reason for preferring any one of these modes to the
other two, we left it to Samdadchiemba to obey the impulse of his genius
in the matter. In a minute he had skinned and gutted the animal, and he
then cut away the flesh from the bones, in one piece, without separating
the limbs, so as to leave suspended from the tree merely the skeleton of
the deer. This, it appeared, was the Turkish fashion, in use upon long
journeys, in order to relieve travellers from the useless burden of
bones.
This operation completed, Samdadchiemba cut some slices of venison and
proceeded to fry them in mutton fat, a manner of preparing venison not
perhaps in strict accordance with the rules of the culinary art; but the
difficulty of the circumstances did not allow us to do better. Our
banquet was soon ready, but, contrary to our expectations, we were not
the first to taste it; we had seated ourselves triangularly on the grass,
having in the midst the lid of the pot, which served us as a dish, when
all of a sudden we heard, as it were, the rushing of a storm over our
heads: a great eagle dashed, like a lightning stroke, upon our
entertainment, and immediately rose with equal rapidity, bearing off in
each claw a large slice of venison. Upon recovering from our fright at
this sudden incident, we ourselves were fain to laugh at the ludicrous
aspect of the matter, but Samdadchiemba did not laugh by any means; be
was in a paroxysm of fury, not indeed at the loss of the venison, but
because the eagle, in its flight, had insolently dealt him a sound box on
the ear with the extremity of its great wings.
This event served to render us more cautious on the following venison
days. During our previous journeyings we had, indeed, on several
occasions observed eagles hovering over our heads at meal-times, but no
accident of this kind had occurred; probably the royal birds had scorned
our mere oatmeal repasts.
You see the eagle almost everywhere throughout the deserts of Tartary;
sometimes hovering and making large circles in the air, sometimes perched
upon a rising ground, motionless as the hillock itself. No one in these
countries hunts the eagle or molests it in any way; it may make its nest
where it pleases, and there bring up its eaglets, and itself grow old,
without being in the smallest degree interfered with by man. You often
see before you an eagle resting on the plain, and looking there larger
than a sheep; as you approach, before rising, it leisurely moves along
the ground, beating its wings, and then, by degrees ascending, it attains
the altitude where it can fly in all its grandeur and power.
After several days journey we quitted the country of the Eight Banners
and entered Western Toumet. At the time of the conquest of China by the
Mantchous, the king of Toumet, having distinguished himself in the
expedition as an auxiliary of the invaders, the conqueror, in order to
evince his gratitude for the services which the prince had rendered him,
gave him the fine districts situated north of Peking, beyond the Great
Wall. From that period they have borne the name of Eastern Toumet, and
Old Toumet took that of Western Toumet; the two Toumets are separated
from each other by the Tchakar River.
The Mongol Tartars of Western Toumet do not lead the pastoral and nomadic
life; they cultivate their lands and apply themselves to the arts of
civilized nations. We had been for nearly a month traversing the desert,
setting-up our tent for the night in the first convenient place we found,
and accustomed to see nothing but, above us the sky, and below and around
us interminable prairies. We had long, as it were, broken with the
world, for all we had seen of mankind had been a few Tartar horsemen
dashing across the Land of Grass, like so many birds of passage. Without
suspecting it, our tastes had insensibly become modified, and the desert
of Mongolia had created in us a temperament friendly to the tranquillity
of solitude. When, therefore, we found ourselves amid the cultivation,
the movement, the bustle, the confusion of civilized existence, we felt,
as it were, oppressed, suffocated; we seemed gasping for breath, and as
though every moment we were going to be stifled. This impression,
however, was evanescent; and we soon got to think that, after all, it was
more comfortable and more agreeable, after a day's march, to take up our
abode in a warm, well-stored inn, than to have to set up a tent, to
collect fuel, and to prepare our own very meagre repast, before we could
take our rest.
[Picture: Tartar Agriculture]
The inhabitants of Western Toumet, as may well be imagined, have
completely lost the stamp of their original Mongol character; they have
all become, more or less, Chinese; many of them do not even know a word
of the Mongol language. Some, indeed, do not scruple to express contempt
for their brothers of the desert, who refuse to subject their prairies to
the ploughshare; they say, how ridiculous is it for men to be always
vagabondizing about, and to have merely wretched tents wherein to shelter
their heads, when they might so easily build houses, and obtain wealth
and comforts of all kinds from the land beneath their feet. And, indeed,
the Western Toumetians are perfectly right in preferring the occupation
of agriculturist to that of shepherd, for they have magnificent plains,
well watered, fertile, and favourable to the production of all kinds of
grain crops. When we passed through the country, harvest was over; but
the great stacks of corn that we saw in all directions told us that the
produce had been abundant and fine. Everything throughout Western Toumet
bears the impress of affluence; nowhere, go in what direction you may, do
you see the wretched tumble-down houses that disfigure the highways and
by-ways of China; nowhere do you see the miserable, half-starved,
half-clothed creatures that pain the hearts of travellers in every other
country: all the peasants here are well fed, well lodged, and well
clothed. All the villages and roads are beautified with groups and
avenues of fine trees; whereas, in the other Tartar regions, cultivated
by the Chinese, no trees are to be seen; trees are not even planted, for
everybody knows they would be pulled up next day by some miserable pauper
or other, for fuel.
We had made three days' journey through the cultivated lands of the
Toumet, when we entered _Kou-Kou-Hote_ (Blue Town), called in Chinese
_Koni-Hoa-Tchen_. There are two towns of the same name, five _lis_
distant from one another. The people distinguish them by calling the one
"Old Town," and the other "New Town," or "Commercial Town," and "Military
Town." We first entered the latter, which was built by the Emperor
Khang-Hi, to defend the empire against its northern enemies. The town
has a beautiful, noble appearance, which might be admired in Europe
itself. We refer, however, only to its circuit of embattled walls, made
of brick; for inside, the low houses, built in the Chinese style, are
little in unison with the lofty, huge ramparts that surround them. The
interior of the town offers nothing remarkable but its regularity, and a
large and beautiful street, which runs through it from east to west. A
Kiang-Kian, or military commandant, resides here with 10,000 soldiers,
who are drilled every day; so that the town may be regarded as a garrison
town.
The soldiers of the New Town of Koukou Khoton are Mantchou Tartars; but
if you did not previously know the fact, you would scarcely suspect it
from hearing them speak. Amongst them there is perhaps not a single man
who understands the language of his own country. Already two ages have
passed away since the Mantchous made themselves masters of the vast
empire of China, and you would say that during these two centuries they
have been unceasingly working out their own annihilation. Their manners,
their language, their very country--all has become Chinese. It may now
be affirmed that Mantchou nationality has become irremediably
annihilated. In order to account for this strange counter-revolution,
and to understand how the Chinese have been able to fuse their conquerors
with themselves, and to get possession of Mantchouria, we must look some
way back, and enter somewhat into detail.
In the time of the Ming dynasty, which flourished in China from 1368 to
1644, the Mantchous, or Eastern Tartars, after a long series of internal
wars, concurred in the selection of a chief, who united all the tribes
into one, and established a kingdom. From that time this ferocious and
barbarian people insensibly acquired an importance which gave great
umbrage to the Court of Peking; and in 1618 its power was so well
established, that its king did not fear to transmit to the Emperor of
China the statement of seven grievances which, he said, he had to avenge.
The daring manifesto finished with these words: "_And in order to avenge
these seven injuries_, _I will reduce and subjugate the dynasty of the
Ming_." Shortly afterwards the empire was convulsed with revolts in all
directions; the rebel chief besieged Peking, and took it. There-upon the
Emperor, despairing of his fortune, hanged himself from a tree in the
Imperial garden, leaving near him these words, written in his own blood:
"_Since the empire is falling_, _the Emperor_, _too_, _must fall_."
Ou-San-Kouei, the Imperial general, called in the Mantchous to aid him in
reducing the rebels. The latter were put to flight, and while the
Chinese general was pursuing them southward, the Tartar chief returned to
Peking, and finding the throne vacant, assumed it.
[Picture: Chinese Soldier]
Previous to this event, the Great Wall, carefully maintained by the Ming
dynasty, had kept the Mantchous from entering China, while, reciprocally,
the Chinese were forbidden to enter Mantchouria. After the Mantchou
conquest of the empire, however, there was no longer any frontier
separating the two nations. The Great Wall was freely passed, and the
communication between the two countries once thrown open, the Chinese
populations of Pe-Tchi-Li and Chan-Toung, hitherto confined within their
narrow provinces, burst like torrents upon Mantchouria. The Tartar chief
had been considered the sole master, the sole possessor of the lands of
his kingdom; but, established as Emperor of China, he distributed his
vast possessions among the Mantchous, upon the condition that they should
pay him heavy rents for them every year. By means of usury and cunning,
and persevering machinations, the Chinese have since rendered themselves
masters of all the lands of their conquerors, leaving to them merely
their empty titles, their onerous statutory labour, and the payment of
oppressive rents. The quality of Mantchou has thus by degrees become a
very costly affair, and many, of consequence, seek altogether to abnegate
it. According to the law, there is, every third year, a census made of
the population of each banner, and all persons who do not cause their
names to be inscribed on the roll, are deemed no longer to belong to the
Mantchou nation; those, therefore, of the Mantchous whose indigence
induces them to desire exemption from statute labour and military
service, do not present themselves to the census enumerators, and by that
omission enter the ranks of the Chinese people. Thus, while, on the one
hand, constant migration has carried beyond the Great Wall a great number
of Chinese, on the other, a great number of Mantchous have voluntarily
abdicated their nationality.
The decline, or rather the extinction of the Mantchou nation, is now
progressing more rapidly than ever. Up to the reign of Tao-Kouan, the
regions watered by the Songari were exclusively inhabited by Mantchous:
entrance into those vast districts was prohibited to the Chinese, and no
man was permitted to cultivate the soil within their range. At the
commencement of the present reign, these districts were put up for public
sale, in order to supply the deficiency in the Imperial treasury. The
Chinese rushed upon them like birds of prey, and a few years sufficed to
remove every thing that could in any way recall the memory of their
ancient possessors. It would be vain for anyone now to seek in
Mantchouria a single town, a single village, that is not composed
entirely of Chinese.
Yet, amid the general transformation, there are still a few tribes, such
as the Si-Po and the Solon, which faithfully retain the Mantchou type.
Up to the present day their territories have been invaded neither by the
Chinese nor by cultivation; they continue to dwell in tents and to
furnish soldiers to the Imperial armies. It has been remarked, however,
that their frequent appearance at Peking, and their long periods of
service in the provincial garrisons, are beginning to make terrible
inroads upon their habits and tastes.
When the Mantchous conquered China, they imposed upon the conquered
people a portion of their dress and many of their usages. Tobacco
smoking, for example, and the manner of dressing the hair, now in use by
the Chinese, came to them from the Mantchou Tartars. But the Chinese, in
their turn, did far more than this; they managed to make their conquerors
adopt their manners and their language. You may now traverse Mantchouria
to the river Amour, without being at all aware that you are not
travelling in a province of China. The local colouring has become
totally effaced. With the exception of a few nomadic tribes no one
speaks Mantchou: and there would, perhaps, remain no trace of this fine
language, had not the Emperors Khang-Hi and Kien-Loung erected, in its
honour, monuments imperishable in themselves, and which will ever attract
the attention of European orientalists.
At one time the Mantchous had no writing of their own; it was not until
1624, that Tai-Tsou-Kao-Hoang-Ti, chief of the Eastern Tartars, directed
several learned persons of his nation to design a system of letters for
the Mantchous, upon the model of those of the Mongols. Subsequently, in
1641, a man of great genius, named Tahai, perfected the work, and gave to
the Mantchou system of letters the elegance, clearness, and refinement
which now characterize it.
Chun-Tche had the finest productions of Chinese literature translated
into Mantchou. Khang-Hi established an academy of learned persons,
equally versed in the Chinese and Tartar languages, whom he employed upon
the translation of classical and historical works, and in the compilation
of several dictionaries. In order to express novel objects and the
various conceptions previously unknown to the Mantchous, it was necessary
to invent terms, borrowed, for the most part, from the Chinese, and
adapted, by slight alterations, as closely as possible, to the Tartar
idiom. This process, however, tending to destroy, by imperceptible
degrees, the originality of the Mantchou language, the Emperor
Kien-Loung, to avert the danger, had a Mantchou dictionary compiled, from
which all Chinese words were excluded. The compilers went about
questioning old men and other Mantchous deemed most conversant with their
mother-tongue, and rewards were given to such as brought forward an
obsolescent word or expression which was deemed worthy of revival and
perpetuation in the dictionary.
Thanks to the solicitude and enlightened zeal of the first sovereigns of
the present dynasty, there is now no good Chinese book which has not been
translated into Mantchou; and all these translations are invested with
the greatest possible authenticity, as having been executed by learned
academies, by order and under the immediate auspices of several emperors:
and as having, moreover, been subsequently revised and corrected by other
academies, equally learned, and whose members were versed alike in the
Chinese language and in the Mantchou idiom.
The Mantchou language has attained, by means of all these learned
labours, a solid basis; it may, indeed, become no longer spoken, but it
will ever remain a classic tongue, and ever be of most important aid to
philologers applying their studies to the Asiatic tongues. Besides
numerous and faithful translations of the best Chinese books, the
Mantchou language possesses versions of the principal productions in the
Lamanesque, Thibetian, and Mantchou literature. A few years labour will
thus suffice to place the diligent student of Mantchou in full possession
of all the most precious monuments of Eastern Asiatic literature.
The Mantchou language is sonorous, harmonious, and, above all, singularly
clear. Its study is now rendered easy and agreeable by H. Conon de la
Gabelentz's "Elemens de la Grammaire Mantchou," published at Altemburg,
in Saxony, and which develops, with happy lucidity, the mechanism and
rules of the language. The excellent work of this learned orientalist
cannot fail to be of great assistance to all who desire to apply
themselves to the study of a language menaced with extinction in the very
country which gave it birth, but which France, at least, will preserve
for the use of the world of letters. M. Conon de la Gabelentz says, in
the preface to his grammar: "I have selected the French language in the
preparation of my work, because France is, as yet, the only European
country in which Mantchou has been cultivated, so that it seems to me
indispensable that all who desire to study this idiom should first know
French, as being the tongue in which are composed the only European works
which relate to Mantchou literature."
While the French missionaries were enriching their country with the
literary treasures which they found in these remote regions, they were,
at the same time, ardently engaged in diffusing the light of Christianity
amid these idolatrous nations, whose religion is merely a monstrous
medley of doctrines and practices borrowed at once from Lao-Tseu,
Confucius, and Buddha.
It is well known that in the earlier years of the present dynasty, these
missionaries had, by their talents, acquired great influence at court;
they always accompanied the Emperors in the long and frequent journeys
which at that period they were accustomed to make into the regions of
their ancient rule. These zealous preachers of the gospel never failed
on all such occasions to avail themselves of the protection and influence
they enjoyed, as a means for sowing, wherever they went, the seeds of the
true faith. Such was the first origin of the introduction of
Christianity into Mantchouria. They reckoned at first but few neophytes;
but the number of these was insensibly augmented afterwards by the
migrations of the Chinese, in which were always to be found several
Christian families. These missions formed part of the diocese of Peking
until within a few years past; then the Bishop of Nanking, administrator
of the diocese of Peking, finding himself nigh the close of his career,
and fearing that the political commotions of which Portugal, his native
country, was at that time the theatre, would preclude the Portuguese
church from sending an adequate number of labourers to cultivate the vast
field which had been confided to him, communicated his apprehensions to
the Sacred College de Propaganda Fide, and earnestly entreated its
members to take under their especial attention a harvest, already ripe,
but which was under peril of destruction, for want of husbandmen to
gather it in. The sacred congregation, touched with the anxiety of this
venerable and zealous old man, among its other arrangements for meeting
the requirements of these unfortunate missions, dismembered Mantchouria
from the diocese of Peking, and erected it into an Apostolic Vicariat,
which was confided to the charge of the Foreign Missionary Society. M.
Verolles, Bishop of Colombia, was made the new Vicar Apostolic. Nothing
less than the patience, the devotion, the every virtue of an apostle, was
essential for the due administration of this Christendom. The prejudices
of the neophytes, not as yet brought within the rules of ecclesiastical
discipline, were, for M. Verolles, obstacles more difficult to overcome
than even the ruggedness of heart of the pagans; but his experience and
his wisdom soon triumphed over all impediments. The mission has assumed
a new form; the number of Christians is annually augmenting; and there is
now every hope that the Apostolic Vicariat of Mantchouria will become one
of the most flourishing missions in Asia.
Mantchouria is bounded on the north by Siberia, on the south by the Gulf
Phou-Hai and Corea, on the east by the sea of Japan, and on the west by
Russian Dauria and Mongolia.
Moukden, in Chinese Chen-Yan, is the chief town of Mantchouria, and may
be considered the second capital of the Chinese empire. The Emperor has
a palace and courts of justice there on the model of those at Peking.
Moukden is a large and fine city, surrounded by thick and lofty ramparts;
the streets are broad and regular, and less dirty and tumultuous than
those of Peking. One entire quarter is appropriated to the princes of
the Yellow Girdle; that is, to the members of the Imperial family. They
are all under the direction of a grand Mandarin, who is entrusted with
the inspection of their conduct, and empowered summarily to punish any
offences they may commit.
After Moukden, the most remarkable towns are Ghirin, surrounded by high
wooden palisades, and Ningouta, the native place of the reigning Imperial
family. Lao-yan, Kai-Tcheou, and Kin-Tcheou, are remarkable for the
extensive commerce their maritime position brings them.
Mantchouria, watered by a great number of streams and rivers, is a
country naturally fertile. Since the cultivation has been in the hands
of the Chinese, the soil has been enriched by a large number of the
products of the interior. In the southern part, they cultivate
successfully the dry rice, or that which has no need of watering, and the
Imperial rice, discovered by the Emperor Khang-Hi. These two sorts of
rice would certainly succeed in France. They have also abundant harvests
of millet, of Kao-Leang or Indian corn (_Holcus Sorghum_), from which
they distil excellent brandy; sesamum, linseed, hemp, and tobacco, the
best in the whole Chinese empire.
The Mantchourians pay especial attention to the cultivation of the
herbaceous-stemmed cotton plant, which produces cotton in extraordinary
abundance. A Meou of these plants, a space of about fifteen square feet,
ordinarily produces 2,000 lbs. of cotton. The fruit of the cotton-tree
grows in the form of a cod or shell, and attains the size of a hazel-nut.
As it ripens, the cod opens, divides into three parts, and develops three
or four small tufts of cotton which contain the seeds. In order to
separate the seed, they make use of a sort of little bow, firmly strung,
the cord of which vibrating over the cotton tufts removes the seeds, of
which a portion is retained for next year's sowing, and the rest is made
into oil, resembling linseed oil. The upper portion of Mantchouria, too
cold to grow cotton, has immense harvests of corn.
Besides these productions, common to China, Mantchouria possesses three
treasures {105} peculiar to itself: jin-seng, sable fur, and the grass
Oula.
The first of these productions has been long known in Europe, though our
learned Academy there ventured some years ago to doubt its existence.
Jin-seng is perhaps the most considerable article of Mantchourian
commerce. Throughout China there is no chemist's shop unprovided with
more or less of it.
The root of jin-seng is straight, spindle-shaped, and very knotty; seldom
so large as one's little finger, and in length from two to three inches.
When it has undergone its fitting preparation, its colour is a
transparent white, with sometimes a slight red or yellow tinge. Its
appearance, then, is that of a branch of stalactite.
The Chinese report marvels of the jin-seng, and no doubt it is, for
Chinese organization, a tonic of very great effect for old and weak
persons; but its nature is too heating, the Chinese physicians admit, for
the European temperament, already, in their opinion, too hot. The price
is enormous, and doubtless its dearness contributes, with a people like
the Chinese, to raise its celebrity so high. The rich and the Mandarins
probably use it only because it is above the reach of other people, and
out of pure ostentation.
The jin-seng, grown in Corea, and there called Kao-li-seng, is of very
inferior quality to that of Mantchouria.
The second special treasure of Eastern Tartary is the fur of the sable,
which, obtained by the hunters with immense labour and danger, is of such
excessive price that only the princes and great dignitaries of the empire
can purchase it. The grass called Oula, the third specialty of
Mantchouria, is, on the contrary, of the commonest occurrence; its
peculiar property is, that if put into your shoes, it communicates to the
feet a soothing warmth, even in the depth of winter.
As we have said above, the Mantchou Tartars have almost wholly abdicated
their own manners, and adopted instead those of the Chinese; yet, amid
this transformation of their primitive characters, they have still
retained their old passion for hunting, for horse exercise, and for
archery. At all periods of their history, they have attached an
astonishing importance to these various exercises; any one may convince
himself of this by merely running his eye over a Mantchou dictionary.
Every thing, every incident, every attribute relating to these exercises,
has its special expression, so as to need no circumlocution to convey it.
There are different names, not only for the different colours of the
horse, for example, for its age and qualities, but for all its movements;
and it is just the same with reference to hunting and archery.
The Mantchous are excellent archers, and among them the tribe Solon are
particularly eminent in this respect. At all the military stations,
trials of skill with the bow take place on certain periodical occasions,
in presence of the Mandarins and of the assembled people. Three straw
men, of the size of life, are placed in a straight line, at from twenty
to thirty paces distance from one another; the archer is on a line with
them, about fifteen feet off from the first figure, his bow bent, and his
finger on the string. The signal being given, he puts his horse to a
gallop, and discharges his arrow at the first figure; without checking
his horse's speed, he takes a second arrow from his quiver, places it in
the bow, and discharges it against the second figure, and so with the
third; all this while the horse is dashing at full speed along the line
of the figures, so that the rider has to keep himself firm in the
stirrups while he manoeuvres with the promptitude necessary to avoid the
getting beyond his mark. From the first figure to the second, the archer
has bare time for drawing his arrow, fixing, and discharging it, so that
when he shoots, he has generally to turn somewhat on his saddle; and as
to the third shot, he has to discharge it altogether in the old Parthian
fashion. Yet for a competitor to be deemed a good archer, it is
essential that he should fire an arrow into every one of the three
figures. "To know how to shoot an arrow," writes a Mantchou author, "is
the first and most important knowledge for a Tartar to acquire. Though
success therein seems an easy matter, success is of rare occurrence. How
many are there who practise day and night? How many are there who sleep
with the bow in their arms? and yet how few are there who have rendered
themselves famous. How few are there whose names are proclaimed at the
matches! Keep your frame straight and firm; avoid vicious postures; let
your shoulders be immovable. Fire every arrow into its mark, and you may
be satisfied with your skill."
The day after our arrival at the military town of Koukou-Khoton, we
repaired on a visit to the mercantile district. Our hearts were
painfully affected at finding ourselves in a Mantchou town, and hearing
any language spoken there but the Mantchou. We could not reconcile to
our minds the idea of a nation renegade of its nationality, of a
conquering people, in nothing distinguishable from the conquered, except,
perhaps, that they have a little less industry and a little more conceit.
When the Thibetian Lama promised to the Tartar chief the conquest of
China, and predicted to him that he should soon be seated on the throne
at Peking, he would have told him more of truth, had he told him that his
whole nation, its manners, its language, its country, was about to be
engulfed for ever in the Chinese empire. Let any revolution remove the
present dynasty, and the Mantchou will be compelled to complete fusion
with the empire. Admission to their own country, occupied entirely by
Chinese, will be forbidden to them. In reference to a map of
Mantchouria, compiled by the Fathers Jesuits, upon the order of the
Emperor Khang-Hi, Father Duhalde says that they abstained from giving the
Chinese names of places in the map; and he assigns for this the following
reason: "Of what use would it be to a traveller through Mantchouria to be
told, for example, that the river Sakhalien-Oula is called by the Chinese
He-Loung-Kiang, since it is not with Chinese he has there to do; and the
Tartars, whose aid he requires, have never heard the Chinese name." This
observation might be just enough in the time of Khang-Hi, but now the
precise converse would hold good; for in traversing Mantchouria it is
always with Chinese you have to deal, and it is always of the
He-Loung-Kiang that you hear, and never of the Sakhalien-Oula.
[Picture: Chapter Tailpiece]
[Picture: Chinese Money Changers]