“We are not Europeans,” he earnestly remonstrated. “We are Siberians; look at our passports; the two peoples are brothers, and you cannot doubt our friendly sentiments.” A few Chinese who spoke Russian, of which there are instances everywhere here, replied in this language; the affair then came quietly to an end. Pablo and I did not venture out of our hole till this mob was dispersed, and M. Schévélof advised us on account of the adventure to quit the village at daybreak.
This day we were to go through the famous passes of Nang-Kao, between the village of Nang-Kao and the portion of the Great Wall the nearest to the capital—an attraction that no tourist to Pekin disregards. Dreading the shocks of the palanquin in so mountainous a country, and desiring to enjoy as much as possible the grand scenery at our ease, we jogged along on asses, from Tchah-tao to Nang-Kao. About an hour after we had left the village, and having passed the brick wall I have mentioned, we arrived at the pass, the entrance of which is very narrow, and is closed by a fourth wall.
The approach is by zigzags in the declivity similar to those we passed between Mongolia and Kalkann, and then, after crossing a fifth wall, one enters into a narrow gorge extremely picturesque. The Chinese doubtlessly must have formerly regarded this spot as the most formidable entrenchment against the Mongols. In a gorge that can only be approached by an escarped road, and protected by two walls surmounted with crenelated towers and fortresses, there were certainly the means of an obstinate defence for a long time, even against an enemy very superior in number. When the tourist has arrived at the bottom of the valley the route is continued amid remarkable sites constantly varied. I will mention one only that struck me more than the others by its originality and its charming aspect.
The pass at this spot may be from about twelve to sixteen yards wide.
The little river of Nang-kao occupies the whole width of it, and scatters its waters amid scores of rocks. Our little donkeys were obliged to leap from one to another to clear the passage between. The two walls of rock forming the gorge overhang the river, and come so near to one another at a certain height that they admit through the opening but a few rays to light up, in a mysterious gloom, this sort of natural grotto. The Chinese have scooped out a little temple in the face of one of these rocks about ten yards from the ground.
It is reached by steps cut out on the wall of the rock, having the appearance of a natural causeway. The entrance of the temple is ornamented with sculptured wood painted red and gilded, with lanterns and all sorts of suspended ornaments. Nothing can be more charming, or gayer and prettier, and at the same time more Chinese than this little nook, which is all at once a valley, a grotto, the bed of a rivulet, and a sanctuary. Once in my life only have I desired to be an idol. Happy the god that dwells in such an enchanting spot!
I was quite astonished on emerging from this little temple to find on the other side the walls of the rock sculptured in the Egyptian manner, and kinds of modillions, as in the land of the Pharaohs.
The remainder of the pass of Nang-kao is also very fine, but resembling too much many similar my readers must have frequently seen in their travels, to render it worth while to describe it here.
But I may say briefly that it resembles the entrance to the gorges of the Trent, Roland’s Breach, and the valley of the Chiffa in Algeria; what may be seen and admired very often in mountainous countries. I should mention, however, a village gate, a kind of triumphal arch in stone, sculptured, sunk, and covered with dragons and fabulous monsters in such a way that it may certainly be reckoned among the chefs-d’œuvre of Chinese art.
We crossed in due course the two last walls of China, or, to speak more correctly, the two last buttresses of the Great Wall of Kalkann, and arrived at Nang-kao. I was delighted to hear myself addressed in French on entering this village by the Chinese mule drivers and sedan carriers, and to see written on the walls of the inn warnings in French to travellers, such as this: “Défiez-vous du maître de l’hôtel, c’est un hardi voleur;” signed “Un officier de marine compâtissant envers les étrangers;” and many similar.