On quitting Ning-Hia, you enter upon a magnificent road, almost throughout bordered by willows and jujube trees. At intervals, you find small inns, where the traveller can rest and refresh himself at small expense. He can buy there tea, hard eggs, beans fried in oil, cakes, and fruit preserved in sugar or salt.
This day’s journey was one of absolute recreation. Our camels, which had never travelled except in the deserts of Tartary, seemed thoroughly sensible to the charms of civilization; they turned their heads majestically right and left, observing, with manifest interest, all that presented itself on the way, men and things. They were not, however, so wholly absorbed in the investigations of the industry and manners of China as to withdraw their attention altogether from its natural productions. The willows, especially, attracted their interest; and when at all within their reach, they did not fail to pluck the tender branches, which they masticated with entire satisfaction. Sometimes, also, expanding their long necks, they would smell the various delicacies displayed over the inn doors, a circumstance which, of course, elicited vehement protests from the innkeepers and other persons concerned. The Chinese were not less struck with our camels, than our camels were
with China. The people collected from all directions to see the caravan pass, and ranged themselves on each side of the road; taking care, however, not to approach too near the animals which excited their surprise, and whose strength they instinctively dreaded.
Towards the close of this day’s march we arrived at Hia-Ho-Po, a large village without ramparts. We proceeded to dismount at the Hotel of the Five Felicities (Ou-Fou-Tien). We were occupied in giving forage to our beasts, when a horseman bearing a white button on his cap, appeared in the court of the inn. Without dismounting, or making the accustomed salutation, he proceeded to bawl for the landlord. “The great Mandarin is on his way here,” cried he, in curt and haughty tones; “let everything be clean and well swept. Let these Tartars go and lodge elsewhere; the great Mandarin will not have camels in the inn.” Coming from the courier of a Mandarin, these insolent words did not surprise but they irritated us. We pretended not to hear them, and quietly pursued our occupation. The innkeeper, seeing that we paid no attention to the order that had been made, advanced towards us, and laid before us, with politeness mingled with embarrassment, the state of the case. “Go,” we said to him firmly; “go tell this white button that you have received us into your inn, that we will remain there, and that Mandarins have no right to come and take the places of travellers, who are already lawfully established anywhere.” The innkeeper was spared the trouble of reporting our words to white button, for they had been pronounced in such a manner that he could hear them himself. He dismounted forthwith; and addressing us directly, said, “The grand Mandarin will soon arrive; he has a large retinue, and the inn is small; besides, how would the horses venture to remain in this yard in presence of your camels?” “A man in the suite of a Mandarin, and, moreover, adorned like you with a white button, should know how to express himself—first, politely, and next, justly. We have a right to remain here, and no one shall expel us; and our camels shall remain tied to the door of our room.” “The grand Mandarin has ordered me to come and prepare apartments for him, at the Hotel of the Five Felicities.” “Very well; prepare them, but don’t meddle with our things. If you cannot accommodate yourselves here, reason suggests that you go and seek a lodging elsewhere.” “And the great Mandarin?” “Tell your Mandarin that there are three Lamas of the Western Heaven in this place, who are ready to return to Ning-Hia to discuss the matter with him: or before the tribunal, if it be necessary, at Peking; they know their way thither.” White button mounted and disappeared.
The host came to us immediately, and begged us to be resolute. “If you remain here,” said he to us, “I am sure to profit a little by you; but if the Mandarin takes your place, his people will turn my inn upside down, will make us work all night, and then go away in the morning without paying a farthing. And besides that, if I were forced to send you away would not the Hotel of the Five Felicities lose its reputation? Who would afterwards enter an inn where they receive travellers only for the purpose of turning them out again?” Whilst the host was exhorting us to courage, the courier of the Mandarin reappeared; he dismounted and made us a profound bow, which we returned with the best grace possible. “Sirs Lamas,” said he, “I have ridden through Hia-Ho-Po; there is no other convenient inn. Who says you are bound to cede to us your place? To speak so were to talk inconsistently with reason! Now, observe, Sirs Lamas; we are all travellers: we are all men far distant from our families; cannot we consult together in a friendly manner and arrange the matter like brothers?” “No doubt,” said we, “men ought always to deal together like brothers; that is the true principle. When we travel, we should live like travellers. When each gives way a little, all are, in the end, accommodated.” “Excellent saying! excellent saying!” cried the courier; and thereupon the most profound bows recommenced on both sides.
After this brief introduction, which had perfectly reconciled both parties, we deliberated amicably how we should best arrange our common residence in the Hotel of the Five Felicities. It was agreed that we should keep the room in which we were already installed, and that we should tie up our camels in a corner of the court, so that they might not terrify the horses of the Mandarin. The courier was to dispose of the rest of the place as he pleased. We hastened to remove our camels from the door of our room and to place them as had been settled. Just after sun-set we heard the Mandarin’s party approaching. The two folding doors of the great gate were solemnly opened, and a carriage drawn by three mules advanced into the middle of the court of the inn, escorted by a numerous body of horsemen. In the carriage was seated a man about sixty years old, with grey mustachios and beard, and having his head covered with a red hood. This was the great Mandarin. On entering, he scanned, with a quick and searching glance, the interior of the inn. Perceiving us, and remarking, above all, three camels at the end of the court, the muscles of his lean face were suddenly contracted. When all the horsemen had dismounted they invited him to descend from his vehicle. “What!” cried he in a dry, angry voice; “who are those Tartars? what are those camels?
let the landlord be brought to me.” On this unexpected summons the host took to his heels, and white button remained for an instant like one petrified: his face turned pale, then red, then olive-colour. However, he made an effort, advanced to the carriage, put one knee to the ground, then rose, and approaching the ear of his master, spoke to him for some time, in an undertone. The dialogue ended, the great Mandarin condescended to dismount, and after having saluted us with his hand in a protecting manner, he retired like a simple mortal to the small room which had been prepared for him.
The triumph we had thus obtained in a country, admission even to which was prohibited to us under pain of death, [273] gave us prodigious courage. These terrible Mandarins, who had formerly occasioned us such alarm, ceased to be terrible to us the instant that we dared to approach them, and to look at them closely. We saw men puffed up with pride and insolence, pitiless tyrants towards the weak, but dastardly in the extreme before men of energy. From this moment we found ourselves as much at our ease in China as anywhere else, and able to travel without fear, and with our heads erect in the open face of day.
After two days journey, we arrived at Tchong-Wei, on the banks of the Yellow River, a walled town of moderate size. Its cleanliness, its good condition, its air of comfort, contrasted singularly with the wretchedness and ugliness of Ning-Hia; and judging merely from its innumerable shops, all well stocked, and from the large population crowding its streets, we should pronounce Tchong-Wei to be a place of much commercial importance; yet the Chinese of this district have no notion of navigation, and not a boat is to be seen on the Yellow River in this quarter—a circumstance remarkable in itself, and confirmatory of the opinion that the inhabitants of this part of Kan-Sou are of Thibetian and Tartar origin; for it is well known that the Chinese are everywhere passionately addicted to navigating streams and rivers.
On quitting Tchong-Wei we passed the Great Wall, which is wholly composed of uncemented stones, placed one on top of the other; and we re-entered Tartary, for a few days, in the kingdom of the Alechan. More than once the Mongol Lamas had depicted in frightful colours the horrors of the Alechan mountains. We were now in a position to see with our own eyes that the reality exceeds all description of this frightful district. The Alechans are a long chain of mountains, wholly composed of moving sand, so fine, that when you touch it, it seems to flow through your finger like a liquid.