Mercurial Preparation for the Destruction of Lice--Dirtiness of the
Mongols--Lama Notions about the Metempsychosis--Washing--Regulations of
Nomadic Life--Aquatic and Passage Birds--The Yuen-Yang--The Dragon's
Foot--Fishermen of the Paga-Gol--Fishing Party--Fisherman bit by a
Dog--Kou-Kouo, or St. Ignatius's Bean--Preparations for
Departure--Passage of the Paga-Gol--Dangers of the Voyage--Devotion of
Samdadchiemba--The Prime Minister of the King of the Ortous--Encampment.
Upon taking possession of our post our first business was to excavate a
ditch round the tent, in order that, should rain occur, the water might
be carried into a pond below. The excavated earth served to make a mound
round the tent; and, within, the packsaddles and furniture of the camels
formed very comfortable bedsteads for us. Having made our new habitation
as neat as possible, the next business was to make our persons neat also.
We had now been travelling for nearly six weeks, and still wore the same
clothing we had assumed on our departure. The incessant pricklings with
which we were harassed, sufficiently indicated that our attire was
peopled with the filthy vermin to which the Chinese and Tartars are
familiarly accustomed, but which with Europeans are objects of horror and
disgust,--lice, which of all our miseries on our long journey have been
the greatest. Hunger and thirst, fierce winds and piercing cold, wild
beasts, robbers, avalanches, menaced death and actual discomfort, all had
been as nothing compared with the incessant misery occasioned by these
dreadful vermin.
Before quitting Tchagen-Kouren we had bought in a chemist's shop a few
sapeks' worth of mercury. We now made with it a prompt and specific
remedy against the lice. We had formerly got this receipt from some
Chinese, and as it may be useful to others, we think it right to describe
it here. You take half-an-ounce of mercury, which you mix with old
tea-leaves, previously reduced to paste by mastication. To render this
softer, you generally add saliva, water would not have the same effect.
You must afterwards bruise and stir it awhile, so that the mercury may be
divided into little balls as fine as dust. You infuse this composition
into a string of cotton, loosely twisted, which you hang round the neck;
the lice are sure to bite at the bait, and they thereupon as surely
swell, become red, and die forthwith. In China and in Tartary you have
to renew this sanitary necklace once a month, for, otherwise, in these
dirty countries you could not possibly keep clear from vermin, which
swarm in every Chinese house and in every Mongol tent.
The Tartars are acquainted with the cheap and efficacious anti-louse
mixture I have described, but they make no use of it. Accustomed from
their infancy to live amid vermin, they at last take no heed whatever of
them, except, indeed, when the number becomes so excessive as to involve
the danger of their being absolutely eaten up. Upon such a juncture they
strip off their clothes, and have a grand battue, all the members of the
family and any friends who may have dropped in, taking part in the sport.
Even Lamas, who may be present, share in the hunt, with this distinction,
that they do not kill the game, but merely catch it and throw it away;
the reason being, that, according to the doctrine of metempsychosis, to
kill any living being whatever, is to incur the danger of homicide, since
the smallest insect before you may be the transmigration of a man. Such
is the general opinion; but we have met with Lamas whose views on this
subject were more enlightened. They admitted that persons belonging to
the sacerdotal class should abstain from killing animals; but not, said
they, in fear of committing a murder by killing a man transmigrated into
an animal, but because to kill is essentially antagonistic with the
gentleness which should characterise a man of prayer, who is ever in
communication with the Deity.
There are some Lamas who carry this scruple to a point approaching the
puerile, so that as they ride along, they are constantly manoeuvring
their horses in and out, here and there, in order to avoid trampling upon
some insect or other that presents itself in their path. Yet say they,
the holiest among them occasion inadvertently, the death, every day, of a
great many living creatures. It is to expiate these involuntary murders
that they undergo fasting and penitence, that they recite certain
prayers, and that they make prostrations.
We who had no such scruples, and whose conscience stood upon a solid
basis as to the transmigration of souls, concocted, as effectively as
possible, our anti-louse preparation, doubling the dose of mercury in our
anxiety to kill the greatest practicable number of the vermin that had
been so long tormenting us by day and by night.
It would have been to little purpose merely to kill the present vermin;
it was necessary to withhold any sort of shelter or encouragement from
their too probable successors, and the first point, with this view, was
to wash all our under-clothing, which, for some time past, had not been
subjected to any such operation. For nearly two months since our
departure, we had been wholly dependent, in all respects, upon ourselves,
and this necessity had compelled us to learn a little of various
professions with which we had been previously unacquainted; becoming our
own tailors and shoe menders, for example, when clothes or shoes required
repairs. The course of nomadic life now practically introduced us also
to the occupation of washermen. After boiling some ashes and soaking our
linen in the lye, we next proceeded to wash it in an adjacent pond. One
great stone on which to place the linen when washed, and another
wherewith to beat it while washing, were our only implements of trade;
but we got on very well, for the softness of the pond water gave every
facility for cleansing the articles. Before long, we had the delight of
seeing our linen once more clean; and when, having dried it on the grass,
we folded and took it home to our tent, we were quite radiant with
satisfaction.
The quiet and ease which we enjoyed in this encampment rapidly remedied
the fatigue we had undergone in the marshes. The weather was
magnificent; all that we could have possibly desired. By day, a gentle,
soothing heat; by night, a sky pure and serene; plenty of fuel; excellent
and abundant pasturage; nitrous water, which our camels delighted in; in
a word, everything to renovate the health and revive the spirits. Our
rule of daily life may appear odd enough to some, and perhaps not
altogether in harmony with the regulations of monastic houses, but it was
in exact adaptation to the circumstances and wants of our little
community.
Every morning, with the first dawn, before the earliest rays of the sun
struck upon our tent, we rose spontaneously, requiring neither call-bell
nor valet to rouse us. Our brief toilette made, we rolled up our
goat-skins and placed them in a corner; then we swept out the tent, and
put the cooking utensils in order, for we were desirous of having
everything about us as clean and comfortable as possible. All things go
by comparison in this world. The interior of our tent, which would have
made a European laugh, filled with admiration the Tartars who from time
to time paid us a visit. The cleanliness of our wooden cups, our kettle
always well polished, our clothes not altogether as yet incrusted with
grease; all this contrasted favourably with the dirt and disorder of
Tartar habitations.
Having arranged our apartment, we said prayers together, and then
dispersed each apart in the desert to engage in meditation upon some
pious thought. Oh! little did we need, amid the profound silence of
those vast solitudes, a printed book to suggest a subject for prayer!
The void and vanity of all things here below, the majesty of God, the
inexhaustible measures of his Providence, the shortness of life, the
essentiality of labouring with a view to the world to come, and a
thousand other salutary reflections, came of themselves, without any
effort on our parts, to occupy the mind with gentle musings. In the
desert the heart of man is free; he is subject to no species of tyranny.
Far away from us were all those hollow theories and systems, those
utopias of imaginary happiness which men are constantly aiming at, and
which as constantly evade their grasp; those inexhaustible combinations
of selfishness and self-sufficiency, those burning passions which in
Europe are ever contending, ever fermenting in men's minds and hardening
their hearts. Amid these silent prairies there was nothing to disturb
our tranquil thoughts, or to prevent us from reducing to their true value
the futilities of this world, from appreciating at their lofty worth the
things of God and of eternity.
The exercise which followed these meditations was, it must be admitted,
far from mystic in its character; but it was necessary, and not wholly
without entertainment in its course. Each of us hung a bag from his
shoulders and went in different directions to seek argols for fuel.
Those who have never led a nomadic life will, of course, find it
difficult to understand how this occupation could possibly develope any
enjoyment. Yet, when one is lucky enough to find, half concealed among
the grass, an argol, recommendable for its size and dryness, there comes
over the heart a gentle joy, one of those sudden emotions which create a
transient happiness. The pleasure at finding a fine argol is cognate
with that which the hunter feels when he discovers the track of game,
with which the boy regards, his eyes sparkling, the linnet's nest be has
long sought; with which the fisherman sees quivering at the end of his
line a large fish; nay, if we may compare small things with great, one
might even compare this pleasure with the enthusiasm of a Leverrier when
he has discovered a new planet.
Our sack, once filled with argols, we returned, and piled the contents
with pride at the entrance of the tent; then we struck a light and set
the fire in movement; and while the tea was boiling in the pot, pounded
the meal and put some cakes to bake in the ashes. The repast, it is
observable, was simple and modest, but it was always extremely delicious,
first, because we had prepared it ourselves, and secondly, because our
appetites provided most efficient seasoning.
After breakfast, while Samdadchiemba was collecting round the tent the
animals which had dispersed in search of pasturage, we recited a portion
of our breviary. Towards noon we indulged in a brief repose, a few
minutes of gentle but sound sleep, never interrupted by nightmare or by
unpleasant dreams. This repose was all the more necessary that the
evenings were prolonged far into the night. It was always with
difficulty that we tore ourselves from our walks by moonlight on the
banks of the river. During the day all was silent and tranquil around
us; but so soon as the shades of night began to overspread the desert,
the scene became animated and noisy. Aquatic birds, arriving in immense
flocks, diffused themselves over the various pools, and soon thousands of
shrill cries filled the air with wild harmony. The cries of anger, the
accents of passion, proceeding from those myriads of migratory birds, as
they disputed among themselves possession of the tufts of marsh grass in
which they desired to pass the night, gave one quite the idea of a
numerous people in all the fury of civil war, fighting and clamouring, in
agitation and violence, for some supposed advantage, brief as this
eastern night.
Tartary is populated with nomadic birds. Look up when you may, you will
see them floating high in air, the vast battalions forming, in their
systematically capricious flight, a thousand fantastic outlines,
dissipating as soon as formed, forming again as soon as dissipated, like
the creations of a Kaleidoscope. Oh! how exactly are these migrant birds
in their place, amid the deserts of Tartary, where man himself is never
fixed in one spot, but is constantly on the move. It was very pleasant
to listen to the distant hum of these winged bands, wandering about like
ourselves. As we reflected upon their long peregrinations, and glanced
in thought over the countries which their rapid flight must have
comprehended, the recollection of our native land came vividly before us.
"Who knows," we would say to each other, "who knows but that among these
birds there are some who have traversed--who have, perhaps, alighted for
awhile in our dear France: who have sought transient repose and
refreshment in the plains of Languedoc, or on the heights of the Jura.
After visiting our own country, they have doubtless pursued their route
towards the north of Europe, and have come hither through the snows of
Siberia, and of Upper Tartary. Oh! if these birds could understand our
words, or if we could speak their tongue, how many questions should we
not put to them!" Alas! we did not then know that for two years more we
should be deprived of all communication with our native land. The
migratory birds which visit Tartary are for the most part known in
Europe; such as wild geese, wild ducks, teal, storks, bustards, and so
on. There is one bird which may deserve particular mention: the
Youen-Yang, an aquatic bird frequenting ponds and marshes; it is of the
size and form of the wild duck, but its beak, instead of being flat, is
round, its red head is sprinkled with white, its tail is black, and the
rest of its plumage a fine purple; its cry is exceedingly loud and
mournful, not the song of a bird, but a sort of clear, prolonged sigh,
resembling the plaintive tones of a man under suffering. These birds
always go in pairs; they frequent, in an especial manner, desert and
marshy places. You see them incessantly skimming over the surface of the
waters without the couple ever separating from each other; if one flies
away, the other immediately follows; and that which dies first does not
leave its companion long in widowhood, for it is soon consumed by sorrow
and lonesomeness. Youen is the name of the male, Yang that of the
female: Youen-Yang their common denomination.
We remarked in Tartary another species of migratory bird, which offers
various peculiarities singular in themselves, and perhaps unknown to
naturalists. It is about the size of a quail; its eyes, of a brilliant
black, are encircled by a magnificent ring of azure; its body is of ash
colour, speckled with black; its legs, instead of feathers, are covered
with a sort of long, rough hair, like that of the musk-deer; its feet are
totally different from those of any other bird; they exactly resemble the
paws of the green lizard, and are covered with scales so hard as to
resist the edge of the sharpest knife. This singular creature,
therefore, partakes at once of the bird, of the quadruped, and of the
reptile. The Chinese call it Loung-Kio (Dragon's Foot). These birds
make their periodical appearance in vast numbers from the north,
especially after a great fall of snow. They fly with astonishing
swiftness, and the movement of their wings makes a loud, rattling noise,
like that of heavy hail.
While we had the charge, in Northern Mongolia, of the little christendom
of the Valley of Black Waters, one of our Christians, a skilful huntsman,
brought us two of these birds which he had caught alive. They were
excessively ferocious; no sooner was your hand extended to touch them,
than the hair on their legs bristled; and if you had the temerity to
stroke them, you instantly were assailed with vehement strokes of the
bill. The nature of these Dragon's Feet was evidently so wild as to
preclude the possibility of preserving them alive: they would touch
nothing we offered them. Perceiving, therefore, that they must soon die
of starvation, we determined to kill and eat them; their flesh was of
agreeable, pheasant-like savour, but terribly tough.
The Tartars might easily take any number of these migratory birds,
especially of the wild geese and ducks, the crowds of which are perfectly
prodigious; and take them, moreover, without the expenditure of a single
ounce of powder, by merely laying traps for them on the banks of the
pools, or by surprising them in the night, amongst the aquatic plants;
but as we have before observed, the flesh of wild creatures is not at all
to the taste of the Tartars; there is nothing to their palates at all
comparable with a joint of mutton, very fat and half boiled.
The Mongols are equally disinclined to fishing; and accordingly, the
highly productive lakes and ponds which one meets with so frequently in
Tartary, have become the property of Chinese speculators, who, with the
characteristic knavery of their nation, having first obtained from the
Tartar kings permission to fish in their states, have gradually converted
this toleration into a monopoly most rigorously enforced. The Paga-Gol
(Little River), near which we were now encamped, has several Chinese
fishing stations upon its banks. This Paga-Gol is formed by the junction
of two rivers, which, taking their source from the two sides of a hill,
flow in opposite directions; the one, running towards the north, falls
into the Yellow River; the other, proceeding southwards, swells the
current of another stream, which itself also falls into the Hoang-Ho; but
at the time of the great inundations, the two rivers, in common with the
hill which separates their course, all alike disappear. The overflowing
of the Hoang-Ho reunites the two currents, and that which then presents
itself is a large expanse of water, the breadth of which extends to
nearly two miles. At this period, the fish which abound in the Yellow
River repair in shoals to this new basin, wherein the waters remain
collected until the commencement of the winter; and during the autumn,
this little sea is covered in all directions with the boats of Chinese
fishermen, whose habitations for the fishing season are miserable cabins
constructed on either bank.
During the first night of our encampment in this locality, we were kept
awake by a strange noise, constantly recurring in the distance: as it
seemed to us, the muffled and irregular roll of drums; with day-break the
noise continued, but more intermittent and less loud; it apparently came
from the water. We went out and proceeded towards the bank of the lake,
where a fisherman, who was boiling his tea in a little kettle, supported
by three stones, explained the mystery; he told us that during the night,
all the fishermen seated in their barks, keep moving over the water, in
all directions, beating wooden drums for the purpose of alarming the
fish, and driving them towards the places where the nets are spread. The
poor man whom we interrogated had himself passed the whole night in this
painful toil. His red, swollen eyes and his drawn face clearly indicated
that it was long since he had enjoyed adequate rest. "Just now," he
said, "we have a great deal of work upon our hands; there is no time to
be lost if we wish to make any money of the business. The fishing season
is very short; at the outside not more than three months; and a few days
hence we shall be obliged to withdraw. The Paga-Gol will be frozen, and
not a fish will be obtainable. You see, Sirs Lamas, we have no time to
lose. I have passed all the night hunting the fish about; when I have
drunk some tea and eaten a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, I shall get into my
boat, and visit the nets I have laid out there westward; then I shall
deposit the fish I have taken in the osier reservoirs you see yonder;
then I shall examine my nets, and mend them if they need mending; then I
shall take a brief repose, and after that, when the old grandfather (the
sun) goes down, I shall once more cast my nets; then I shall row over the
water, now here, now there, beating my drum, and so it goes on." These
details interested us, and as our occupations at the moment were not very
urgent, we asked the fisherman if he would allow us to accompany him when
he went to raise his nets. "Since personages like you," answered he, "do
not disdain to get into my poor boat and to view my unskilful and
disagreeable fishing, I accept the benefit you propose." Hereupon we sat
down in a corner of his rustic hearth to wait until he had taken his
repast. The meal of the fisherman was as short as the preparations for
it had been hasty. When the tea was sufficiently boiled, he poured out a
basin full of it; threw into this a handful of oatmeal, which he
partially kneaded with his fore finger; and then, after having pressed it
a little, and rolled it into a sort of cake, he swallowed it without any
other preparation. After having three or four times repeated the same
operation, the dinner was at an end. This manner of living had nothing
in it to excite our curiosity; having adopted the nomad way of living, a
sufficiently long experience had made it familiar to us.
[Picture: Fishing Party]
We entered his small boat and proceeded to enjoy the pleasure of fishing.
After having relished for some moments the delight of a quiet sail on the
tranquil water, smooth and unbroken as glass through troops of cormorants
and wild geese, which were disporting on the surface of the expanse, and
which, half running, half flying, made a free passage for us as we
advanced, we reached the place where the nets lay. At intervals we saw
pieces of wood floating on the water, to which the nets were attached
which rested at the bottom. When we drew them up we saw the fish glitter
as they struggled in the meshes. These fish were generally large, but
the fisherman only kept the largest; those that were under half a pound
he threw back into the water.
After having examined a few of the nets, he stopped to see if the haul
had been productive. Already the two wells, constructed at the
extremities of the boat, were nearly full. "Sirs Lamas," said the
fisherman, "do you eat fish? I will sell you some if you please." At
this proposition, the two poor French missionaries looked at each other
without saying a word. In that look you might see that they were by no
means averse from trying the flavour of the fish of the Yellow River, but
that they dared not, a sufficient reason keeping them in suspense. "How
do you sell your fish?" "Not dear; eighty sapeks a pound." "Eighty
sapeks! why that is dearer than mutton." "You speak the words of truth;
but what is mutton compared with the fish of the Hoang-Ho?" "No matter;
it is too dear for us. We have still far to go; our purse is low, we
must economize." The fisherman did not insist; he took his oar, and
directed the boat towards those nets which had not yet been drawn up from
the water. "For what reason," asked we "do you throw back so much fish?
Is it because the quality is inferior?" "Oh, no; all the fish in the
Yellow River are excellent, these are too small, that is all." "Ah, just
so; next year they will be bigger. It is a matter of calculation; you
refrain now, so that in the end you may get more by them." The fisherman
laughed. "It is not that," he said; "we do not hope to re-capture these
fish. Every year the basin is filled with fresh fish, brought hither by
the overflowings of the Hoang-Ho; there come great and small; we take the
first; and the others we throw back, because they do not sell well. The
fish here are very abundant. We are able to select the best . . . .
Sirs Lamas, if you like to have these little fish, I will not throw them
back." The offer was accepted, and the small fry, as they came, were
placed in a little basket. When the fishing was over, we found ourselves
possessors of a very respectable supply of fish. Before leaving the
boat, we washed an old basket, and having deposited our fish in it, we
marched in triumph to the tent. "Where have you been?" exclaimed
Samdadchiemba, as soon as he saw us; "the tea is now boiled, and it soon
gets cold: I have boiled it up again; it has again got cold." "Pour out
some of your tea," answered we. "We will not have oatmeal to-day, but
some fresh fish. Place some loaves under the ashes to bake." Our
prolonged absence had put Samdadchiemba in an ill humour. His forehead
was more contracted than usual, and his small black eyes flashed with
displeasure. But when he beheld in the basket the fish which were still
in motion, his face relaxed into a smile, and his countenance insensibly
grew more cheerful. He opened smilingly the bag of flour, the strings of
which were never untied except on rare occasions. Whilst he was busily
occupied with the pastry, we took some of the fish, and proceeded to the
shores of a lake at a short distance from the tent. We had scarcely got
there, when Samdadchiemba ran to us with all his might. He drew aside
the four corners of the cloth which contained the fish. "What are you
going to do?" said he, with an anxious air. "We are going to cut open
and scale this fish." "Oh, that is not well; my spiritual fathers, wait
a little; you must not transgress thus." "What are you talking about?
Who is committing a sin?" "Why, look at these fish; they are still
moving. You must let them die in peace, before you open them: is it not
a sin to kill a living creature?" "Go make your bread and let us alone.
Are we always to be pestered with your notions of metempsychosis? Do you
still think that men are transformed into beasts, and beasts into men?"
The lips of our Dchiahour opened for a long laugh. "Bah!" said he,
striking his forehead, "what a thick head I have; I did not think of
that; I had forgotten the doctrine," and he returned not a little ashamed
at having come to give us such ridiculous advice.
The fish were fried in mutton fat, and we found them exquisite.
In Tartary and in the north of China, the fishing continues to the
commencement of winter, when the ponds and rivers are frozen. At that
time they expose to the air, in the night, the fish they have kept alive
in the reservoirs; these immediately freeze, and may be laid up without
trouble. It is in this state that they are sold to the fishmongers.
During the long winters of the northern part of the empire, the wealthy
Chinese can always, by this means, procure fresh fish; but great care
must be taken not to make too large a provision of them to be consumed
during the time of the great frosts, for on the first thaw the fish
become putrid.
During our few days' rest, we considered the means of crossing the
Paga-Gol. A Chinese family having obtained from the King of the Ortous
the privilege of conveying travellers across, we were obliged to address
ourselves to the master of the boat. He had undertaken to conduct us to
the other side, but we had not yet agreed about the fare; he required
upwards of 1,000 sapeks. The sum appeared to us exorbitant, and we
waited.
On the third day of our halt, we perceived a fisherman coming towards our
tent, dragging himself along with great difficulty by the aid of a long
staff. His pale and extremely meagre face, showed that he was a man in
suffering. As soon as he had seated himself beside our hearth,
"Brother," said we, "it seems that your days are not happy." "Ah," said
he, "my misfortune is great, but what am I to do? I must submit to the
irrevocable laws of heaven. It is now a fortnight since, as I was going
to visit a Mongol tent, I was bitten in the leg by a mad dog; there has
been formed a wound which grows larger and mortifies day by day. They
told me that you were from the Western Heaven, and I am come to you. The
men of the Western Heaven, say the Tartar Lamas, have an unlimited power.
With a single word they are able to cure the most grievous disorders."
"They have deceived you, when they said we had such great powers;" and
hereupon we took occasion to elucidate to this man the great truths of
the faith. But he was a Chinese, and, like all his nation, but little
heedful of religious matters. Our words only glanced over his heart; his
hurt absorbed all his thoughts. We resolved to treat his case with the
Kou-Kouo, or bean of St. Ignatius. This vegetable, of a brown or ashy
colour, and of a substance which resembles horn, extremely hard, and of
intolerable bitterness, is a native of the Philippine Isles. The manner
of using the Kou-Kouo is to bruise it in cold water, to which it
communicates its bitterness. This water, taken inwardly, modifies the
heat of the blood, and extinguishes internal inflammation. It is an
excellent specific for all sorts of wounds and contusions, and, enjoying
a high character in the Chinese Materia Medica, is sold in all chemists'
shops. The veterinary doctors also apply it with great success to the
internal diseases of cattle and sheep. In the north of China we have
often witnessed the salutary effects of the Kou-Kouo.
We infused the powder of one of these beans in some cold water, with
which we washed the poor man's wound, and we supplied some clean linen,
in place of the disgustingly dirty rags which previously served for a
bandage. When we had done all we could for the sufferer, we observed
that he still seemed very embarrassed in his manner. His face was red
with blushes, he held down his eyes, and he began several sentences which
he could not complete. "Brother," said we, "you have something on your
mind." "Holy personages, you see how poor I am! you have tended my
wound, and you have given me a great mug of healing water to take; I know
not what I can offer in exchange for all this." "If this be the subject
of your uneasiness," said we, "be at once reassured. In doing what we
could for your leg, we only fulfilled a duty commanded by our religion.
The remedies we have prepared, we freely give you." Our words evidently
relieved the poor fisherman from a very grave embarrassment. He
immediately prostrated himself before us, and touched the ground thrice
with his forehead, in token of his gratitude. Before withdrawing, he
asked us whether we intended to remain where we were for any length of
time. We told him that we should gladly depart the next day, but that we
had not as yet agreed with the ferryman as to the fare. "I have a boat,"
said the fisherman, "and since you have tended my wound, I will endeavour
to-morrow, to convey you over the water. If my boat belonged entirely to
myself, I would at once undertake the matter; but as I have two partners,
I must first get their consent. Moreover, we must procure some
particulars as to our course; we fishermen are not acquainted with the
depth of water at all the points of the passage. There are dangerous
places here and there, which we must ascertain the exact nature and
locality of beforehand, so that we may not incur some misfortune. Don't
say anything more about the matter to the ferry people. I will come back
in the course of the evening, and we will talk over the subject."
These words gave us hopes of being able to continue our journey, without
too heavy an outlay for the river passage. As he had promised, the
fisherman returned in the evening. "My partners," said he, "were not at
first willing to undertake this job, because it would lose them a day's
fishing. I promised that you would give them 400 sapeks, and so the
affair was arranged. To-morrow we will make inquiries as to the best
course to follow on the river. Next morning, before sun-rise, fold your
tent, load your camels, and come down to the river side. If you see any
of the ferry people, don't tell them you are going to give us 400 sapeks.
As they have the sole right of carrying passengers for hire, they might
prosecute us for carrying you, if they knew you had paid us anything."
At the appointed hour, we proceeded to the fisherman's hut. In a minute
the baggage was packed in the boat, and the two missionaries seated
themselves beside it, attended by the boatman whose wound they had cured.
It was agreed that a young companion of his should ride the horse across
the shallows, leading the mule, while Samdadchiemba, in like manner, was
to conduct the camels over. When all was ready we started, the boat
following one course, the horses and camels another, for the latter were
obliged to make long circuits in order to avoid the deeper parts of the
river.
The navigation was at first very pleasant. We floated tranquilly over
the broad surface of the waters, in a small skiff, propelled by a single
man with two light sculls. The pleasure of this water party, amid the
deserts of Mongolia, was not, however, of long duration. The poetry of
the thing, soon at an end, was succeeded by some very doleful prose. We
were advancing gently over the smooth water, vaguely listening to the
measured dips of the sculls, when, all of a sudden, we were aroused by a
clamour behind, of which the shrieks of the camels constituted a
prominent share. We stopped, and, looking round, perceived that horse,
mule, and camels were struggling in the water, without making any onward
progress. In the general confusion we distinguished Samdadchiemba
flourishing his arms, as if to recall us. Our boatman was not at all
disposed to accept the invitation, reluctant as he was to quit the easy
current he had found; but as we insisted, he turned back, and rowed
towards the other party.
Samdadchiemba was purple with rage. As soon as we came up to him, he
furiously assailed the boatman with invectives: "Did you want to drown
us," bawled he, "that you gave us for a guide a fellow that doesn't know
a yard of the way. Here are we amid gulfs, of which none of us know the
depth or extent." The animals, in fact, would neither advance nor
recede; beat them as you might, there they remained immovable. The
boatman hurled maledictions at his partner: "If you did not know the way,
what did you come for? The only thing to be done now is to go back to
the hut, and tell your cousin to get on the horse; he'll be a better
guide than you."
To return for a better guide was clearly the safest course, but this was
no easy matter; the animals had got so frightened at finding themselves
surrounded with such a body of water, that they would not stir. The
young guide was at his wits end; it was in vain that he beat the horse,
and pulled the bridle this way and that; the horse struggled and splashed
up the water, and that was all; not an inch would it move, one way or the
other. The young man, no better horseman than guide, at last lost his
balance and fell into the water; he disappeared for a moment, to our
increased consternation, and then rose at a little distance, just where
he could stand and have his head above water. Samdadchiemba grew
furious, but at last, seeing no other alternative, he quietly took off
all his clothes as he sat on the camel, threw them into the boat, and
slipped down the camel's side into the stream. "Take that man into your
boat," cried he to our boatman; "I'll have nothing more to do with him.
I'll go back and find some one who can guide us properly." He then made
his way back through the water, which sometimes rose up to his neck,
leading the animals, whose confidence returned when they saw themselves
preceded by the Dchiahour.
Our hearts were filled with gratitude at observing the devotion and
courage of this young neophyte, who, for our sakes, had not hesitated to
plunge into the water which, at that season, was bitterly cold. We
anxiously followed him with our eyes until we saw him close upon the
shore. "You may now," said the boatman, "be quite at your ease; he will
find in my hut a man who will guide him, so as to avoid the least
danger."
We proceeded on our way, but the navigation was by no means so agreeable
as before; the boatman could not find again the clear path on the waters
which he was pursuing when we returned to aid Samdadchiemba; and hampered
with aquatic plants, the vessel made but very slow progress. We tried to
mend matters, by turning to the right and then to the left, but the
difficulty only grew greater; the water was so shallow that the boat, in
its laboured advance, turned up the mud. We were compelled ourselves to
take the sculls, while the boatman, getting into the water and passing
across his shoulders a rope, the other end of which was tied to the boat,
tried to pull us along. We applied our united efforts to the task of
moving the vessel, but all in vain; it scarcely advanced a foot. The
boatman at last resumed his seat and folded his arms in utter despair:
"Since we cannot get on by ourselves," said he, "we must wait here until
the passage-boat comes up, and then follow in its course." We waited.
The boatman was evidently altogether disconcerted; he loudly reproached
himself for having undertaken this laborious business; while we, on our
parts, were angry with ourselves for having permitted a consideration of
economy to deter us from proceeding with the ferry-boat. We should have
got into the water and waded to the shore, but, besides the difficulty
connected with the baggage, the undertaking was dangerous in itself. The
ground was so irregular that, while at one moment you passed through
water so shallow that it would scarcely float the boat, in the next
moment you came to a hole, deep enough to drown you three times over.
It was near noon when we saw three passage-boats passing us, which
belonged to the family who enjoyed the monopoly of the ferry. After
having, with infinite labour, extricated ourselves from the mud and
attained the channel indicated by these boats, we were quietly following
their course when they stopped, evidently awaiting us. We recognised the
person with whom we had tried to bargain for our passage over, and he
recognised us, as we could easily perceive by the angry glances which he
directed against us. "You tortoise-egg," cried he to our boatman, "what
have these western men given you for the passage? They must have handed
over a good bagful of sapeks to have induced you to trespass upon my
rights! You and I will have a little talk about the matter, by-and-by;
be sure of that." "Don't answer him," whispered the boatman to us; then
raising his voice and assuming an air of virtuous indignation, he cried
to the ferryman: "What do you mean? You don't know what you're talking
about. Consult the dictates of reason, instead of getting into a fury
about nothing. These Lamas have not given me a sapek; they have cured my
leg with one of their western specifics, and do you mean to say that in
gratitude for such a benefit I am not to carry them over the Paga-Gol?
My conduct is perfectly right, and in conformity with religion." The
ferryman grumbling between his teeth, pretended to accept the statement
thus made.
This little altercation was succeeded by profound silence on both sides.
While the flotilla was peaceably advancing, pursuing the thread of a
narrow current, just wide enough to admit the passage of a boat, we saw
galloping towards us, along the shallows, a horseman whose rapid progress
dashed aside the water in all directions. As soon as he came within call
he stopped short: "Make haste," cried he, "make haste; lose no time, row
with all your might! The Prime Minister of the King of the Ortous is
yonder on the prairie with his suite, waiting the arrival of your boat.
Row quickly." He who spoke was a Tartar Mandarin, his rank being
indicated by the blue button which surmounted his hair cap. After
issuing his orders he turned round, whipped his horse, and galloped back
the same way he had come. When he was out of sight, the murmurs which
his presence had restrained burst out. "Here's a day's labour marked
out! A fine thing, truly, to be employed by a Mongol Toudzelaktsi
(Minister of State), who'll make us row all day, and then not give us a
single sapek for our pains." "As to that, it need not so much matter;
but the chances are that this Tcheou-ta-dze will break every bone in our
bodies into the bargain." "Well, row away, it can't be helped; after
all, we shall have the honour of ferrying over a Toudzelaktsi." This
little piece of insolence excited a laugh, but the prevalent expression
was that of furious invective against the Mongol authorities.
Our boatman remained silent; at last he said to us; "This is a most
unfortunate day for me. I shall be obliged to carry some of this
Toudzelaktsi's suite perhaps to Tchagan-Kouren itself. I am by myself, I
am ill, and my boat ought this evening to be engaged in fishing." We
were truly afflicted at this unlucky turn of affairs, feeling as we did
that we were the involuntary occasion of the poor fisherman's misfortune.
We knew very well that it was no trifling matter to be called into the
service, in this way, of a Chinese or Tartar Mandarin, for whom every
thing must be done at once, unhesitatingly and cheerfully. No matter
what may be the difficulties in the way, that which the Mandarin desires
must be done. Knowing the consequences of the meeting to our poor
boatman, we determined to see what we could do to relieve him from the
dilemma. "Brother," said we, "do not be uneasy; the Mandarin who awaits
the passage boats is a Tartar, the minister of the king of this country.
We will endeavour to manage matters for you. Go very slowly, stop now
and then; while we are in your boat no one, attendants, Mandarins, not
even the Toudzelaktsi himself will venture to say a word to you." We
stopped short in our course, and meanwhile the three passage-boats
reached the landing-place where the Mongol authorities were waiting for
them. Soon two Mandarins, with the blue button, galloped towards us;
"What are you stopping there for?" cried they. "Why do you not come on?"
We interposed: "Brother Mongols," said we, "request your master to
content himself with the three boats already at the shore. This man is
ill, and has been rowing a long time; it would be cruel to prevent him
from resting himself awhile." "Be it as you desire, Sirs Lamas," replied
the horsemen, and they galloped back to the Toudzelaktsi.
We then resumed our course, but very slowly, in order to give time for
every person to embark before we reached the shore. By-and-by, we saw
the three ferry-boats returning, filled with Mandarins and their
attendants; the horses were fording the river in another direction, under
the guidance of one of the boatmen. As the party approached, our boatman
grew more and more afraid; he did not venture to raise his eyes, and he
scarcely breathed. At last the boats were level with each other; "Sirs
Lamas," cried a voice, "is peace with you?" The red button in the cap of
the speaker, and the richness of his embroidered dress, indicated that it
was the prime minister who addressed to us this Tartar compliment.
"Toudzelaktsi of the Ortous," replied we, "our progress is slow, but it
is favourable; may peace also attend you." After a few other civilities,
required by Tartar forms, we proceeded on our way. When we had attained
a safe distance from the Mandarins, our boatman was perfectly relieved;
we had extricated him from a most serious difficulty. The ferry-boats,
it was probable, would be engaged at least three days in their gratuitous
labour, for the Toudzelaktsi not choosing to travel across the marshes,
the boats would have to convey him down the Yellow River all the way to
Tchagan-Kouren.
After a long, laborious, and dangerous passage, we reached the other side
of the waters. Samdadchiemba had arrived long before us, and was
awaiting us on the margin of the stream. He was still naked, as to
clothes, but then he was covered well nigh up to the shoulders with a
thick layer of mud, which gave him a negro aspect. In consequence of the
extreme shallowness of the water, the boat could not get within thirty
feet of the shore. The boatmen who preceded us had been obliged to carry
the Mandarins and their attendants on their shoulders to the boats. We
did not choose to adopt the same process, but rather to make use of the
animals for our disembarkation. Samdadchiemba accordingly brought them
close to the boat; M. Gabet got on the horse, M. Huc on the mule, and so
we reached the shore, without having occasion to employ any person's
shoulders.
The sun was just about to set. We would willingly have encamped at once,
for we were exhausted with hunger and fatigue, but we could not possibly
do so, for we had, they told us, fully two lis to journey before we
should get out of the mud. We loaded our camels, therefore, and
proceeded onward, completing the miserable day in pain and suffering.
Night had closed in before we came to a place where we could set up our
tent; we had no strength left for preparing the usual meal, so drinking
some cold water, and eating a few handfuls of millet, we lay down, after
a brief prayer, and fell into a deep slumber.
[Picture: Chapter Tailpiece]
[Picture: Election of a Living Buddha]