CHAPTER XIX.
CARAVAN ACROSS THE DESERT OF GOBI.
A Mongolian Prince and his Court--Prayer turning--Our life in the desert--The sandy plain--Want of water--Lunar mirage-- Three executions--A traveller astray in the desert--Arrival at Kalkann and the Great Wall of China.
The following morning was ushered in with a wind so violent that no one attempted to emerge from his shelter, and, singular enough, this Easter day, which ought to have been passed in rejoicing, disappeared without anyone having sought the society of his fellow travellers. The weather the following day was not better, and we had, in addition, several hail showers that quite whitened the surface of the desert. Therefore, we did not break from our long confinement till the approach of evening, when M. Schévélof descried, with the aid of his telescope, far away, a large assemblage of tents. On drawing nearer we perceived to our disappointment that they were not inhabited by Europeans; for our guide soon discovered that it was a halt of a Mongolian prince, surrounded with his court.
About a score of tents were pitched beside each other, and that of the prince was distinguished by its larger size and by its being enclosed with a kind of wall covered with coarse paintings. Another of about the same size, surrounded with _praying-wheels_, appeared to be the temple of the tribe. On our approach the dogs, that guarded each a tent, set up such a barking and howling that the whole community was stirred up with alarm. Many of the inhabitants seeing, in the distance, we were strangers, came out to meet us from curiosity, and, at the same time, to be assured of our pacific intentions. After an interview between one of these and M. Schévélof, the latter informed us we were to be admitted to the presence of the prince.
The simplicity and bareness of his tent astonished me. There was nothing special to be seen in the interior but a little stove, with a pipe leading from it through the top of the tent. The sole luxury, therefore, of this princely habitation, consisted in a precaution against asphyxia, a danger to which all others in tent life are exposed through the noxious and nauseous smoke. He was squatting on a carpet, and was clad in an ample blue silk robe edged with black velvet, his feet being covered with a kind of black silk boots. His belt, to which were attached all the requisites for smoking and the production of fire, as is usual with the Mongols, was embroidered with silver. His head was covered with a cap of yellow leather, having the border in fur turned up, and surmounted with a blue ball, from which hung a little tuft of hair.
As soon as we entered, he drew from his pocket a little bottle filled with essence of tobacco, which he presented to M. Schévélof. Our leader then withdrew the stopper, to which was attached a minute spoon, took in this a drop of the essence and bore it to his nose, affecting to be highly delighted with the effect, and then, replacing the stopper, passed it to M. Marine, telling him to repeat the same ceremony. When we had, all five of us, gone through this pantomime of simulated joy, for Pablo did not miss the opportunity of keeping close to my side to share in this novel ceremony, it was necessary to say something. This delicate mission, of course, was the duty of M. Schévélof, who acquitted himself of it with dignity. He then asked permission to visit the temple, and this being accorded, we went to see the lama, who offered to pray to the god to bless the remainder of our journey. As a recompense for this protection of a deity, I presented him with a brick of tea, five needles, and a bit of thread--a recompense in my estimation ample enough, considering the cost of the benediction, however highly cherished might be its effect.
As soon as I retired to my carriage, it was surrounded by five lamas who, prostrated before it, were chanting prayers, each of them turning all the time little _portable prayer wheels_. This comedy was irresistibly ludicrous: the sight of these grave priests, solemnly turning their prayers as a child winds round a toy windmill, was too much for my gravity, and I was obliged to hide my irreverent laughter in the far corner of my carriage. The grand priest, however, soon opened the door without ceremony, to gratify his curiosity with its contents. Not knowing what to do with my visitors, I took a bottle of scent and presented it to their noses, and they were so delighted with the odour that I sprinkled them with it just as the caravan began to march. Their gratitude at this favour was unbounded: they all bowed repeatedly in acknowledgment, and when they were disappearing from my sight, they were being mobbed apparently by the members of the community, who had come up to sniff at their shoulders, so wonderfully odoriferous. This incident was, perhaps--judging from the popular excitement--of sufficient importance to them to be handed down to posterity.
From this time we had beautiful weather, and it became warm also. Our days passed away much in the same way, it is true, but not without pleasure and even merriment at times. When the caravan halted in the mornings, we all came out of our carriages. As we were not in want of water during the first half of our journey, at least for drinking, a discussion usually took place every day, as they were pitching the tents, between my companions, on tea-making. Were they to have fine tea or brick tea? Should they mix with it sheep’s milk, wine, or lemon? Should it be prepared entirely in the Mongolian way, that is, with butter, flour, and salt? Many other suggestions, too long to mention here, were made by M. Kousnietzof and even Pablo who, having lived in many lands, had also his methods. When we had all refreshed ourselves, the tents were struck, the camels resumed their march, and, shouldering our guns, we wandered about till five or six in the evening, when we joined our carriages and fell in again with the march of the caravan. Some pursued winged game. M. Kousnietzof never finished the day without having bagged a duck, or a partridge; the latter of a kind common everywhere in Mongolia, but still little known in Europe, with feet covered with hair, not unlike rat’s feet.
For my part, I preferred hunting the white deer and bucks, which we sometimes saw in great numbers, but always at a long distance. How many leagues have I not gone out of my way in the hope of stalking one of these animals! On one occasion, in particular, being fully satisfied I had wounded one badly, I was led a pretty dance after it, and I do not know where I should have wandered, if twilight had not warned me that unless I turned back I might lose sight of the caravan, and then go astray in the middle of this desert--the greatest desert in the world.[27]
[27] See note 14.
M. Marine, through caution or fear of fatigue, did not venture far from the caravan. Sometimes, even, he used to sit at the opening of his carriage, with his feet resting on the steps, and, from this advantageous position, pepper away at everything that came into view, whatever animal it might be, or at whatever distance it might be beyond gun-shot. One day, however, M. Schévélof and I succeeded in stimulating in him the ardour and enthusiasm of a hunter, under circumstances that amused us for a very long time afterwards.
I happened to be walking about half a mile in advance of the caravan, in conversation with its pleasant leader, when we perceived on the ground a dead ermine--unquestionably dead, as its putrid odour proved. We took it up and perched it in a tuft of grass, raising its head and pointing its ears to make it look as lively as possible; having done this we went to M. Marine to inform him that an excellent opportunity presented itself to have a good shot. Full of excitement at a chance such as he had long pined for on the steps of his carriage, he advances slowly and noiselessly, entreating us not to stir a peg, and to speak only in whispers. He shoulders his piece, aims carefully, fires, and sees nothing escape; clearly he had bagged something at last. “Bravo!” I exclaimed, with a movement as if I intended to secure the animal in a bound; and here the comic part of the incident began. M. Marine stretches out his arm and with a furious gesture stops me. I comply, and he again takes aim with the greatest precaution, whilst M. Schévélof is ready to split with laughing. “Ah! this time he is surely dead,” exclaimed M. Marine immediately after the second shot. “But why did you fire twice?” I asked. “I feared I might have missed the first time, and that it might not have heard the report.” After this reply we had no end of fun with poor Ivan Ivanovitch.
Shortly after this we came on the great sandy plain I have mentioned that forms the centre of the Gobi desert. The first day passed pretty well: a certain gloom pervaded us, it is true, though we did not pay much attention to it. The second day was more trying. M. Kousnietzof found that they had put a few grains of salt too many in the tea: every one seemed in the humour to complain. The third day was still worse. Wassili Michäelovitch did not even make his appearance in the tent during the morning halt: with the excuse that he had an interesting book to read, he breakfasted in his carriage. We could not have had more agreeable travelling companions, but we all felt the depressing influence of the bareness of nature--the emptiness of space around us.
In the immense solitudes of Siberia there are forests presenting diverse features that relieve the eye with the change of colour or form; on the open sea the waves are constantly in movement, movement that is suggestive of life and consequently engages our sympathy; but here in the desert there is a complete absence of change as well as movement. There is nothing but an endless solitude of silence and rest. Nowhere, perhaps, except in the presence of the dead, or alone among the tombs, of which the desert is strongly suggestive, do we feel so doleful and lonely, such an oppression on the spirits, encompassed as we are by this endless and changeless sandy waste.
As an illustration of the influence of surrounding nature on the mind, we could not resist the gloominess it inspired, and lounged along, moping in our joylessness, one far apart from the other.[28]
[28] See note 15.
With our eyes cast down, we occupied ourselves in picking up some rare stones with which the desert of Gobi is scattered in certain parts; large agates and many other minerals, unknown to me, quite transparent, and tinged with orange or green; the soil was quite covered with these, presenting a gigantic mosaic.
The Mongol chief declared one morning that our provision of water was exhausted. “I had reckoned,” he said, “on renewing the supply from a pond here that generally contains water, but you see the spot and that it is quite dry.” This news, though rather serious, caused a little diversion in the monotony of our existence, and actually made us merry. M. Schévélof and I alone had thought of providing wine, and our stock of it was not large. We had no tea this day, neither with salt, sugar, nor flour; and our tins of preserves had diminished considerably. Filling our glasses with wine, so suddenly enhanced in value, we drank a toast to the prospect of soon finding water.
M. Kousnietzof who, like a true Siberian, would have preferred half a cup of tea to a whole bottle of the most delicate wine, could not accommodate himself very easily to this privation. He was occupied, all day long, in inspecting the horizon around with his telescope, and again resumed at intervals his persevering work at night. “Wada! Wada!” (water, water,) he suddenly calls out, stopping the caravan, and pointing at a spot with a bluish surface near the horizon. In our enthusiasm we all jumped out of our carriages, and began leading the camels that bore the water kegs towards the indicated spot. M. Kousnietzof ran and M. Marine danced with joy, Pablo sang and I followed M. Schévélof, who doubted, and he was the wisest of all. This deceptive blue tint was produced merely by a large bed of salt; so we returned, looking rather _blue_ ourselves, to our carriages. The same night, we witnessed a deception of another kind in a lunar mirage. This phenomenon, which appears to be rather rare, is one of the most graceful and enchanting presented by nature. The landscape that charmed our sight was certainly a phantom, for it was far too dissimilar from any real one to be met with in the middle of the desert; and if I had not witnessed it myself, I should certainly have believed, if my companions had faithfully described it to me, that they had been indulging in a flight of imagination. We had before our eyes not only a little lake reflecting the moonbeams from its smooth surface, but we distinguished on its borders the outlines of groups of fine trees, and even some wading birds. Wassili Michäelovitch, who at Verchni-Oudinsk had never even heard of such a thing as a mirage, went leaping towards this little lake, when the Mongols stopped his enthusiastic course by loud peals of laughter. It is probable that this phenomenon, however rare elsewhere, is not uncommon in the Desert of Gobi, since the natives accompanying us appeared in no wise surprised at such a beautiful vision.
Two days afterwards we came upon a little pond of dirty water, quite stagnant, and surrounded with skeletons of all kinds of animals that had come there to quench their thirst and then die. This water, in which I did not venture to wash myself, was welcomed by us as a God-send. The camels that had not drunk for a very long while, and even, till just previously, eaten anything for many days, needed ample rest. We, therefore, made here a long halt. After the repast M. Kousnietzof began giving us some airs on his guitar, and our caravan, that had been as dull as the ditch water, cheered up a little. We were still in the heart of this great solitude, but we were confident that the most difficult part had been passed, and we should now overcome all further obstacles.
Five or six days later we fell in with a few Mongols. Our leader exchanged one of our camels that was jaded for one of theirs fresh and strong: we bought, also between us, a sheep. This day did not pass without some excitement. The new camel had not yet been broken in to any kind of work: it was therefore necessary to begin by piercing a hole through his nose, in order to pass a stick through it for the purpose of taming and leading him. This operation was not performed without difficulty, for it is extremely painful to the animal. And, besides, one of our camels had its foot cracked; this kind of accident happens pretty often at the end of journeys, on account of the protracted fatigue and the hardness of the ground. The Mongols treat it by sewing together the wound, and the suffering of the poor beast may be easily imagined. But the principal business was the killing of our sheep; the first Mongol appointed by our leader for this work refused to obey; he opened his robe, and showing us a little copper idol suspended on his chest, “I am a lama,” he said, “and I am forbidden to spill blood, even the blood of animals.” Another Mongol undertook the function of a butcher, but he killed the sheep in a strange way. He made a long incision in the abdomen, and then thrust his arm into the wound to seize the heart and stop its beating by holding it fast.
An adventure, of which I was the hero, caused some delay. About an hour after the caravan had resumed its march, after the usual night halt, the tether that attached my camel to Pablo’s carriage got loose; and the beast, feeling itself no longer drawn along, stopped altogether. When my camel found himself thus left behind, I was in the rear of the caravan. The Mongols were sleeping profoundly between the two humps of their camels, and, consequently, not knowing that anything was amiss, kept on their course. The reader may imagine my sensations on finding myself quite alone on awaking in the morning. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to avoid going in search of the caravan; for if I had attempted to overtake it I should, in all probability, have gone astray altogether, and, perhaps, in this plight if any natives had observed my weakness and inexperience, they might have shown towards me little benevolence and hospitality. I sat down on the ground before my stupid-looking camel, with a good mind to give him a sound beating: but, fearing he might take flight, I was constrained to treat him kindly, for I dreaded beyond everything to be obliged to stir even a hundred yards from the spot where I had been left, because there I hoped to be found again. This anxious loneliness, happily, came to an end about ten in the morning. At daybreak, the Mongols having perceived my absence, stopped and turned back on the traces of the caravan, spreading out in different directions. I was soon led back, and the caravan hailed my return with joyous shouting. Pablo was quite overcome with joy on seeing me safe again; his fidelity and attachment could not be more strongly manifested.
The surface was now gradually becoming a little hilly, and we were soon surrounded with high mountains. The temperature had become quite mild, and as the moon shone in all its splendour, our journeying was now easy and agreeable. The tents of the Mongols were more numerous, and we met two or three Chinese caravans going to Maimatchin. At last the route, like the way on leaving Urga, was again strewn all over with huge stones, and these enabled our guide to announce to us that three days later we should come in sight of the Great Wall.
When Mongolia is traversed from north to south, the traveller rises gradually, without suspecting it on account of the ease of the ascent, to four thousand feet above the sea-level. On arriving at this culminating point the land is found cut almost perpendicularly to the depth of this elevation, and in such a manner that, to continue the route, it is necessary to descend by a series of zig-zags cut out by the hand of man, the descent of which is as rapid as the most perilous mountain paths of the Alps and Pyrenees. It is along this peaked crest that the Great Wall of China runs. It is not built of brick, like the interior walls of Nang-Kao for example, of which I shall say something hereafter, and which many travellers erroneously take for the true Great Wall. But the true Great Wall that separates, in the first place, Mongolia from China proper, is built of stones laid over each other without cement. Towers, placed at certain distances from each other, are more solidly constructed, and have thus more effectually resisted the wear of time. This wall has the form of capital A open: the others, which I believe are seven in number, unless I passed more in the night without having seen them, form as many transverse bars.
When our caravan, after three days of fatiguing march across the rough stony land I have mentioned, reached the Great Wall of China, it was about six in the morning on the 29th of April. The sun appeared on the horizon, and we could distinguish a series of hills stretching far away into the interior, with the intervening spaces veiled in cloud. We could see these undulations of the Celestial Empire to advantage at the great elevation we had arrived at, and we sat down some time admiring the magnificent spectacle.
My attention was struck immediately by the remarkable difference between the country we had just travelled over and the one we were about to enter. Behind me was a wild uncultivated waste, and before me extended that famous fertile land that bestows annually on its people two crops of corn or rice, and two crops of vegetables. On one side it was an unpeopled desert, and on the other a swarming of human beings numbering probably more than four hundred millions, and whose assemblage of four hundred thousand even constitutes but a village among its populous cities. But a little while ago it was everywhere bleak and barren, and for the future it will be sunshine over rich verdant lands. Thus much for the most striking advantages on the side of China, to which may be opposed others on the side of Mongolia. The air of Mongolia was pure and invigorating; that of China will be nauseating and unhealthy. The soil was covered with a sand so coarse that the most violent winds were unable to raise it: the soil in future will be composed of a dust so fine that the least breeze will lift it in clouds, impeding the sight and respiration. The Mongols were hospitable; the Chinese will be hostile; the mere circumstance of being there constitutes an offence in their eyes, and one they would punish if they dared. It would be difficult to find two neighbouring countries more dissimilar than China and Mongolia in the nature of the soil and in the character of the inhabitants. The Great Wall, which has separated them in the past, does not seem by its ruin to bring them nearer to one another in the future. If I were asked which of these two peoples I prefer, though it is difficult to compare a civilized with a savage race, I should reply: “The Mongol is superior to the Chinese in honesty and disposition; but the latter to the Mongol in talent and ingenuity in the arts.”
We descended on foot the zig-zags that lead from the Great Wall to Kalkann. The natives formed in two rows to see us pass. They came from all parts, even from underground; for they live in caves like the caverns of Touraine, which they have scooped out of the rock in the side of the mountain. The women with their little feet walk with difficulty, and holding a child by one hand make use of the other as a balancing pole to maintain their equilibrium. M. Schévélof got into a rage two or three times with these people, who pressed in around and would not get out of the way to let us pass, and yet we were only in the rural part. Five hours after passing the Great Wall we came to the bottom of the valley, which narrows here almost to a gorge. The aspect of the country is picturesque. A little rivulet, which occasionally swells out in width to fill the whole valley, meanders along, sometimes at the foot of an enormous rock, sometimes lost in a thicket of verdure. Everything is pretty and graceful, but strange in form and arrangement. I recognised here the models of Chinese landscapes I have seen in France, and which I had always taken to be imaginary compositions. Thus in the midst of this valley, formed between two great hills of majestic dark rocks, rises abruptly a pointed granite mound, on the top of which is built a temple: a little further, an enormous red rock is suspended, in a manner incomprehensible, on the apex of a cone of earth. The whole of this singular bit of nature is variegated and enlivened by trees, irregularly disposed here and there, freshly decked in their vernal dress.
If the reader will picture to his fancy this landscape, peopled with men of effeminate look with long pig-tails, and women with painted faces presenting the appearance of wax figures, he will form some idea of the country we traversed in descending from the Great Wall of China.