Part 13

Proceeding eastward from Tomsk they arrived in about a fortnight on the banks of the river Tongusta, where the country on both sides being covered with impenetrable woods, it was necessary to make their way along the frozen stream, while the biting winds continued to whirl and drift about the snow in their path. Occasionally single houses or small villages were found upon the banks. One day, during their progress along this river, they met a prodigious flock of hares, all as white as the snow on which they walked, slowly descending the stream; and Bell was informed that these animals are frequently seen travelling south in much greater numbers.

They were now in the country of the Tongusy, a people who have no fixed dwellings, but roam at pleasure through the woods, erecting where they make any stay a few spars, inclining to each other above, and covering them with pieces of birchen bark sewed together, with a small hole at the top. The men, however, are brave, and the women virtuous. They practise tattooing. Their religion consists in the worship of the sun and moon. Their dress is of fur. Their arms, the bow and arrow, the lance, and a species of hatchet. In winter they travel over the frozen snow with shoes, the soles of which are of wood, and about five feet in length, and five or six inches broad, inclining to a point before and square behind. The feet are slipped into a thong fastened in the middle; and with these they can move over the deepest snow without sinking. But as these are suited only to the plains, they have a different kind for ascending the hills, with the skins of seals glued to the boards, having the hair inclining backwards, which prevents the sliding of the shoes. With these they climb hills with the greatest facility, and having reached the summit, dart down the opposite slope with astonishing rapidity.

Such are the great sable hunters of Siberia, who feed indifferently on the bear, the fox, and the wolf. The sables, says Bell, are not caught in the same manner as other animals. The fur is so tender, that the least mark of an arrow, or ruffling of the hair, spoils the sale of the skin. In hunting them they only use a little dog and a net. When a hunter discovers the track of a sable upon the snow, he follows it sometimes for several days unintermittingly, until the poor animal, quite tired, takes refuge in some tall tree, for it can climb like a cat. The hunter then spreads his net round the tree, and kindles a fire, when the sable, unable to endure the smoke, immediately descends, and is caught in the net. These hunters, when hard pressed by hunger, have recourse to a practice analogous to that of many South Sea islanders under similar circumstances: taking two thin pieces of board, they place one on the pit of the stomach, the other on the back, and gradually drawing together the extremities, allay in some degree the cravings of appetite. The winters here are long, and the cold so intense that the earth never thaws, even in summer, beyond two feet and a half below the surface. When they dig to the depth of three feet for the purpose of burying their dead, they find the earth frozen; and in these graves the bodies remain unconsumed, and will do so, says the traveller, to the day of judgment.

On the 17th of March, the weather, as they began to approach the Baikal lake, changed so suddenly from winter to spring that they almost imagined themselves dropped imperceptibly into another climate. They therefore abandoned their sledges, which, as the snow was gone, were now become useless, and proceeded on horseback. Next day they arrived at Irkutsk on the river Angara. Here they remained until the 15th of May, waiting for the melting of the ice on the lake; and amusing themselves in the meanwhile with hunting, and observing the country and its inhabitants.

When the season was thought to be sufficiently far advanced, they proceeded up the banks of the river, until they discovered the lake bursting out between two high rocks, and tumbling down over enormous stones which lie quite across the channel of the river, which is here a mile in breadth. The sublimity of the scene, which is magnificent beyond description, is heightened exceedingly by the dashing and roaring of the waters, which impress the beholder with ideas of the irresistible power and grandeur of nature, the privilege to contemplate which elevates and ennobles him in his own estimation. And this, in reality, is the principal source of the pleasure we derive from the view of stupendous mountains, the tempestuous ocean, cataracts, volcanoes, or conflagrations.

They now embarked on the Baikal, which, as Gibbon facetiously observes, disdains the modest appellation of a lake, and on receding from the land enjoyed a full prospect of its western shores, rising abruptly into rocky pinnacles capped with snow, and towering far above every thing around them. These stretched away immeasurably towards the north, until they were lost in the distance. On the south the view was bounded by hills of gentler elevation, whose tops, for the most part, were covered with wood. Their passage was tedious, for on approaching the mouth of the Selinga they found the whole shore skirted by long reefs of floating icebergs, between which they forced their way with considerable difficulty. However, they at length entered the Selinga, and ascending partly in their boats and partly on horseback along its banks, arrived safely at Selinguisky on the 29th of May.

At this town, which, like the ancient Chalcedony on the Bosphorus, may be termed the “City of the Blind,” being built upon an inconvenient spot in the neighbourhood of an excellent one, they were to remain until the court of Pekin, which had been informed of their approach, should send an officer to conduct them over the frontiers. In the mean time every person amused himself according to his taste. Our honest and intelligent traveller, as he is very properly denominated by Gibbon, whose chief pleasure consisted in observing the manners of mankind, had here an ample field before him, in a variety of characters affording the most striking moral contrasts, from the Hindoo Yoghee, who bought live fishes on the banks of a stream in order to enjoy the pleasure of setting them swimming again, to the fierce, tough-nerved Mongol, who could view death, whether inflicted on man or beast, without exhibiting the least horror or emotion. With one of the chiefs of this warlike nation, who, by temperance and exercise, had contrived to reach his eightieth year with much of the vigour and energy of youth about him, they had a splendid hunting-match, which, as conducted by the Tartars, may justly, as our great historian remarks, be considered as the image and the school of war.

The Chinese, who are as dilatory in their movements as the ancient Spartans, allowed them ample time to amuse themselves, for it was not until the 24th of August that their conductor arrived. On the 8th of September they departed, and arriving in a few days on the banks of the Saratzyn, the small rivulet which divides the Russian empire from Chinese Mongolia,

But these between a silver streamlet glides, And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook, Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides,

they crossed over, and found themselves in the “Celestial Empire!” Previously, however, a little incident occurred perfectly characteristic of the Chinese. Their conductor, observing some women walking in the fields, and fearing, apparently, that their petticoats would set all Pekin on fire, inquired with alarm to whom they belonged, and whither they were travelling. “To China,” replied the ambassador. At this the worshipper of Fo’s terrors were increased: he replied that they had women enough in Pekin already, and that, as there never had been a European woman in China, he would not, without a special order from the emperor, be answerable for introducing the first; but that, if his excellency desired it, he would despatch a courier to learn the emperor’s pleasure. As this would have retarded their movements another six weeks, the ambassador, who had not the wit to disguise the ladies in men’s apparel, sent them back to Selinguisky, and continued his journey without them.

They now entered upon that vast table-land which was found by the Jesuits to be three thousand geometrical paces above the level of the sea, from which the mountains forming its southern boundary serve but as steps by which the traveller may descend to the low plains of China. The small undulations or eminences which break the uniformity of these vast steppes are covered with the rhubarb plant, which grows there spontaneously, and is propagated more rapidly by the aid of the marmot, which, burrowing in prodigious numbers at its roots, loosens the mould, and prepares it for the reception of the seeds. The roots are dug up for exportation by the Mongols, who carelessly bore holes through them, and hang them about their tents or on the horns of their sheep to dry.

After passing the Tula, no river again occurred north of the Great Wall. The mode of travelling here resembles, in some degree, that which prevails in the deserts of Arabia and Africa, except that the walls are more frequent, and the danger from marauders little or none. Their food, after the first few days, consisted of mutton only; but as this was of an excellent quality, the circumstance was not considered as a great hardship. In the course of their journey they traversed a large plain, thickly strewed with transparent red and yellow pebbles, which glittered beautifully in the sun, and were said to be cornelians and yellow sapphires, being hard, and taking a fine polish. The few Mongols whom they found wandering with their flocks and herds over the waste, appeared more contented and happy than the possessors of the most fertile soil; and this being the primitive, the freest, and perhaps the most natural condition of man, the circumstance ought not to excite our astonishment. The mere act of locomotion is pleasant to man, and in pastoral tribes, accustomed to wandering from their infancy, it becomes a passion, the gratification of which is happiness.

“On the 2d of November, about noon,” says Bell, “we could perceive the famous wall, running along the tops of the mountains, towards the north-east. One of our people cried out ‘land!’ as if we had been all this while at sea. It was now, as nearly as I can compute, about forty English miles from us, and appeared white at this distance.” The nearer they approached the mountains, the more were they astonished at the grandeur of this wall, which, as Voltaire very justly observes, makes no inconsiderable figure even upon the map of the world. “The appearance of it,” says our traveller, “running from one high rock to another, with square towers at certain intervals, even at this distance, is most magnificent.” In two days they arrived at the foot of this mighty barrier, and entered through a great gate into China. Here a thousand men were perpetually on guard, by the officers commanding whom they were received with much politeness, and invited to tea.

“The long, or endless wall, as it is commonly called,” says our traveller, who has given the best account I have yet met with of this prodigious undertaking, “encompasses all the north and west parts of China. It was built about six hundred years ago by one of the emperors, to prevent the frequent incursions of the Mongols, and other western Tartars, who made a practice of assembling numerous troops of horse, and invading the country in different places. The Chinese frontiers were too extensive to be guarded against such bold and numerous enemies, who, after plundering and destroying a wealthy country, returned to their own loaded with spoils.

“The Chinese, finding all precautions ineffectual to put a stop to the inroads of such barbarians, at last resolved to build this famous wall. It begins in the province of Leotong, at the bottom of the bay of Nankin, and proceeds across rivers and over the tops of the highest mountains without interruption, keeping nearly along the circular ridge of barren rocks that surround the country to the north and west; and after running southward about twelve hundred English miles, ends in impassable mountains and sandy deserts.

“The foundation consists of large blocks of square stones laid in mortar; but the rest of the wall is built of brick. The whole is so strong and well built as to need almost no repair, and in such a dry climate may remain in this condition for many ages. Its height and breadth are not equal in every place; nor, indeed, is it necessary they should. When carried over steep rocks, where no horse can pass, it is about fifteen or twenty feet high, and broad in proportion; but when running through a valley, or crossing a river, there you see a strong wall, about thirty feet high, with square towers at the distance of a bowshot from one another, and embrasures at equal distances. The top of the wall is flat, and paved with broad freestones; and where it rises over a rock, or any eminence, you ascend by a fine easy stone stair. The bridges over rivers and torrents are exceedingly neat, being both well contrived and executed. They have two stories of arches, one above another, to afford sufficient passage for the waters on sudden rains and floods.”[6]

Footnote 6:

Authors are not at all agreed respecting the period at which this wall was erected. Gibbon, relying apparently on the testimony of Duhalde (Description de la China, tom. ii. p. 45) and Deguignes (Hist. des Huns, tom. ii. p. 59), gives the third century before the Christian era as the date of its construction, and assigns it a length of fifteen hundred miles.—(History, vol. iv. p. 361.) Du Pauw, an ingenious but conceited and coxcombical writer, makes no objection to the antiquity of the work, but reduces its length to about four hundred and fifty miles; and this without citing any authority, or even stating his reasons, except that he does not choose to consider the western branch, which, he tells us, is built of earth, worthy the name of a wall.—(Recherch. Phil. sur les Egypt. et Chin. tom. ii. p. 77-79.) For my own part, I am inclined to agree with those writers who think it an entirely modern work, erected since the thirteenth century; for the silence of Marco Polo appears to me absolutely decisive. Du Pauw’s supposition that he could have entered China from Mongolia, that is, passed through the wall, and lived eighteen years in the country, which he traversed in every direction, without once hearing of its existence, is too absurd even for refutation. That he abstained from describing it, lest he should excite a suspicion of the truth of his narrative, though somewhat more probable perhaps, does not upon the whole seem credible. If it existed in his time, I can account for his silence, or rather for the absence of all mention of it in his travels, as they at present exist, only by supposing that the passage in which this extraordinary work was alluded to, was, like many other passages, omitted from ignorant incredulity by transcribers, and so lost. Thus, too, we may account for no mention of tea being found in his travels.

Bell was, moreover, informed by the Chinese that this wall was completed within the space of five years, every sixth man in the empire having been compelled to work at it or find a substitute. But if the date of its erection is altogether uncertain, we may very well be permitted to indulge our skepticism respecting such circumstances as tend to increase the marvellousness of the undertaking. It is far more probable that it is the work of ages, and that numerous and long interruptions occurred in the prosecution of the design. With respect to its utility, I likewise dissent altogether from the opinion of our traveller, who, in comparing it with the pyramids, styles the latter “a work of vanity.” Had Bell believed, as I do, that the pyramids were temples, he would, however, have been the last man in the world to have thus characterized them; but with respect to the long wall, it may be proved to have been not only useless, but pernicious, since the imaginary security it afforded encouraged those unwarlike habits to which the Chinese are naturally addicted; and thus, when the Tartars overleaped this contemptible obstacle to valour, and challenged them to defend their empire by arms, they discovered that soldiers are the only wall which a wise people should oppose to its enemies, all other defences being found upon trial to be utterly vain. No country, no, not even Hindostan itself, has been more frequently conquered than China; nor has any region of the earth been more frequently desolated and drenched with blood by civil wars and rebellions; and if ever circumstances should render it necessary for us to extend our conquests in Asia beyond the Burrampooter on the north-east, it would be seen with what ease the Hindoo Sipahees, who subdued Tippoo Sultan, the Rohillas, Rajpoots, Patans, and Burmese, would rout and subdue the feeble and inefficient troops of China.

But to proceed with our traveller. All the way to Pekin they observed terrible marks of the destructive power of earthquakes in these countries; many of the towns having been half-destroyed by one which had happened the preceding year,[7] when great numbers of people were buried beneath the ruins. The country appeared to be well cultivated, and the towns and villages numerous, but not in any remarkable degree. They reached Pekin on the 18th of November.

Footnote 7:

Du Pauw shows by his use of this passage how little his accuracy is to be depended on. Bell says, “above one-half being thereby laid in ruins;” which our sophist thus translates into French:—“Il ne reste _point une habitation sur pied!_” and then audaciously refers to his authority, which he styles “Antermony Journal.”

Bell had now reached the goal of his wishes, and upon the whole was not disappointed. Long accustomed to the sight of savages immersed in ignorance and barbarism, he found the Chinese, by comparison, highly civilized. They drank tea, cultivated fine fruits, manufactured excellent silks, paper, and porcelain, and accumulated considerable wealth; but, before they were taught by the Jesuits, scarcely understood sufficient astronomy to enable them to calculate an eclipse, were ignorant of the art of founding cannon, of building chimneys, of making clocks and watches; and, what was infinitely worse than all this, they were under so little moral restraint that men incapable of maintaining a family married several wives with the execrable design of exposing or murdering their offspring. The existence of foundling hospitals in civilized countries proves that there everywhere exist individuals to whom the offshoots of their own being are objects of no solicitude; ancient nations, too, sometimes exposed weak or deformed children; but no people, as far as I have been able to discover, ever arrived at that pitch of depravity which distinguishes the Chinese, “among whom,” says Sir George Staunton, “habit seems to have familiarized a notion that life only becomes truly precious, and inattention to it criminal, after it has continued long enough to be endowed with a mind and sentiment; but that mere dawning existence may be suffered to be lost without scruple, though it cannot without reluctance.”

In the fine arts the Chinese have made but little progress, having no knowledge of sculpture, and very little of painting. Their literature, it is very clear, contains none of those splendid creations of genius which we might expect to find among a people partly civilized during so many ages, and which actually exist in the languages of Persia and Hindostan. Their popular religion is the grossest and most corrupt form of Buddhism; and even this, as well as their philosophy and arts, such as they are, they originally borrowed from Hindostan, which seems in antiquity to have been the great workshop where all the fantastic systems, religious and philosophical, which were current among the heathen were fabricated.

Captain Ismailoff seems, like Lord Amherst, to have felt a peculiar antipathy to the practice of bowing nine times before the Chinese emperor; but at length, after many struggles with their prejudices, consented to conform to ancient usage. The first audience was granted him at one of the emperor’s country palaces, where, when he arrived, though the morning was cold and frosty, he found all the ministers of state and officers belonging to the court seated cross-legged upon their fur cushions in the open air,—an exhibition probably intended to serve as a reproof to the insolent barbarian who could object to bow nine times before a prince at whose door the greatest men in the Celestial Empire were contented to sit cross-legged in the frost! Nothing of that magnificence which Marco Polo found at the court of Kublai Khan was discoverable in that of Kamhi, where, on the contrary, the only circumstances truly remarkable were the extreme plainness of every thing and the affability and calm good sense of the aged monarch, who, in insisting on the observance of ancient forms and ceremonies, was actuated, it was clear, by no motives of paltry vanity.

Though Gibbon, with all his disposition to skepticism, allowed to Pekin a population of two millions, it would appear from Bell’s account, who says he rode round it at an easy trot in four hours, to be inferior to London in size; and no one who is acquainted with the form of Chinese houses, which are never more than one story high, and who reflects upon the extent of the imperial gardens, together with all the other gardens included within the walls, will doubt for a moment that it is vastly less populous. Upon the accounts of the Chinese themselves no reliance whatever can be placed. They are greater proficients in lying than the ancient Cretans; and on the subject of population have deluded European travellers with fables so monstrous, that there is nothing in Gulliver more repugnant to common sense. To maintain the one-half of the population to which their empire makes pretensions would demand a progress in civilization and the arts of life of which hitherto they have not even dreamed; but a paper population costs nothing. Three hundred and thirty-three millions are as easily written as one hundred and nineteen millions. But if we reflect for a moment on the vast deserts, the barren mountains, the impenetrable woods which the Jesuits, when scattered and terrified into their senses by persecution, found in almost every part of this richly-cultivated country, and were enabled to conceal themselves in for months, we shall perhaps be disposed to conclude, that in proportion to its extent China is less populous than Hindostan, which yet does not, in all probability, contain one-fourth of the population it might be made to support if properly cultivated.