Chapter XLIII · THE MANCHURIAN FRONTIER.

Manchuria and its aboriginal inhabitants.—Their history.—The Daurians.—The Manchu.—Visit to Sakhalin-Ula-Hotun.—Manchu dress.—Music.—Conveyances.—Articles of commerce.—Treatment of dead.—Boats.—Methods of fishing.—Archery.—Town of Aigun.—Buildings.—Temples.—Difficulties of access.

I have said very little on what we saw in descending the Amur of the Daurians and Manchu, because I thought it better to reserve a separate chapter for these extra-Siberian people. Manchuria is bounded on the north by the Amur, on the east by the Ussuri, on the west by Dauria and Mongolia, and on the south by Corea and the Yellow Sea. It is, in fact, the country north of Peking, from which city the territory is governed, and with which its history is closely connected.⁠[1]

A few words should be said, perhaps, first of the Daurians, whose territory we passed whilst on the Upper Amur. Of old they were settled along both banks of the river, and doubtless may here and there be found still on the northern bank; but for the sake of clearness I have preferred to treat of them on the southern bank in their proximity to the Manchu, from whom they can scarcely be distinguished in appearance, and with whom they have more in common than with the natives of the north. The Daurians and Manchu, Mr. Howorth says, are of the same stock in every way. The division is a political one only. The Daurians probably represent the section who paid tribute to the Chinese Court, and the Manchu those who were free. Mr. Wahl says that “Daours” is a name given to the Tunguses of the Amur by the Buriats. The Daurians are taller and stronger than the Orochons, the countenance is oval and more intellectual, and the cheeks are less broad. The nose is rather prominent, and the eyebrows straight. The skin is tawny, the hair brown. The lower classes do not shave the head, and their hair resembles an ill-constructed haystack, around which they twist their pigtail. The higher classes shave the head in front and over the temples, but wear a tail.

The Daurians carry on agriculture successfully, and cultivate vegetables and tobacco. They live in houses made of earth, thatched with reeds or thin bamboos, and have the walls whitewashed inside. The houses are not divided into compartments, and the fireplace is outside, near the door, the smoke from it passing through a pipe into the house. Two iron kettles always form part of the household utensils, one of them for heating water for tea, the other for cooking the food. The windows are large and square, of paper soaked in oil. They are hinged at the top, and are propped open for ventilation. The religion of the Daurians is Shamanism. We saw their canoes from time to time when stopping at wood stations on the Upper Amur, but recognized few of the people themselves.

We saw many Manchu from the Zeya to the Khingan mountains. The southern shores of the Amur are inhabited by Manchu and Chinese, the latter being either exiles or their descendants.⁠[2] On the south bank of the Amur, opposite Blagovestchensk, is a small Manchu town, called Sakhalin-Ula-Hotun (City of the Black River). The Manchu and Chinese formerly called the river above the Sungari “Sakhalin-Ula.” The Goldi called the Amur “Mongo,” and the Gilyaks “Mamoo.” The name Amur was given by the Russians, and is considered a corruption of the Gilyak word. I paid a visit to Sakhalin-Ula on the evening our steamer stayed in the vicinity. It is said to have less than 2,000 inhabitants. I was accompanied by Mr. Niellsen, from the telegraph office at Blagovestchensk, who was slightly known to one of the Manchu merchants. The town stretches a mile along the bank, but extends only a few paces back from the river. It consists of a single street, and is anything but picturesque; for the fences, made of log-frames and covered with board, shut out the view of the gardens, in which are grown millet, maize, radishes, onions, leeks, garlic, Spanish pepper, and cabbages. The walls of the houses are of log plastered with mud, and the windows usually of paper, but occasionally of glass.

The roofs of the buildings are covered with thatch of wheaten straw, and the town is embowered in elms, birches, maples, poplars, and wild apple-trees. This contrasts favourably with the Russian town, where there are few trees except those in the park. Timber, for use of both Russians and Manchu, is cut in the forests 60 miles up the river, and rafted down. They keep plenty of fowls and pigs, and a few horned cattle used for ploughing. Sakhalin-Ula abounds in gardens, which supply the market of Blagovestchensk. Once a month, during the full moon, the Manchu cross the river and open a fair, which lasts seven days. They sell the Russians wheaten and buckwheat flour, barley, beans, oats, eggs, walnuts, vegetables, Ussuri apples, fowls, pigs, cows, and horses. Thus the Russians usually lay in a month’s supply; but should they require anything out of fair-time, the Manchu are not only ready to supply it, but do so at lower prices than the sums asked by the Russian merchants.

As we walked along the street we met a solitary woman, who ran quickly out of the way, as if afraid of us; and having made a long détour from the road, regained it, and continued her journey behind us. The Manchu women dress like the Chinese, in a blue cotton gown, with short loose sleeves, above which the well-to-do wear a cape or mantle of silk, reaching to the waist. The hair is brushed up, fastened on the top of the head in a bunch, and is secured by a comb ornamented with beads and hair-needles, and decked with gay ribbons, with real or artificial flowers. The earrings, finger-rings, and bracelets exhibit much taste. The women are in the habit of carrying their youngest children about with them, tied on the back. The girls, on being released from swaddling-clothes, are dressed like their mothers; but the boys, up to six or seven years of age, wear only a pair of loose pantaloons.

The costume of the men is a long blue coat of cotton, loose linen trousers fastened at the knee or made into leggings, and Chinese boots of skin. They wear also a kind of vest and a belt, to which is attached a case containing a knife, Chinese chopsticks, tinder, a small copper pipe, and tobacco. Both sexes are fond of smoking, and, as in China, constantly carry a fan.

As we passed one of the houses, we saw a Manchu, sitting out in the cool of the evening, enjoying his music, which he produced by scraping a stringed instrument of the violin order, though it is no compliment to the fiddle to mention the two together. At Khabarofka I saw other musical instruments, coming nearer to the shape of the banjo. One, with three strings, had a long handle of rosewood, and a drum about six inches in diameter. The drum was covered on either side with serpents’ skin, but if its sound was no more pleasing than that of the instrument at Sakhalin-Ula, I fear it would generally be thought trying to English ears.

By dint of inquiry, we found the merchant to whom my companion was known, and, on entering his yard, saw some Mongolian sheep, with their enormous tails. It was not difficult to understand particularly fat Thibetan sheep needing a little carriage upon which to support this appendage. One could wish them better conveyances, however, than the Manchu carts, which are of a very clumsy description. They have two wheels fixed to the axletree, all turning together. They are drawn by oxen, and move slowly, creaking along. The Manchu have besides a rough kind of travelling carriage for persons of distinction, a two-wheeled affair, not long enough to allow one to lie at full length, nor with covering high enough to permit one to sit upright. It has no springs, the frame resting on the axle. The sides are curtained with cloth, having little windows or peep-holes. A few cushions and hard pillows inside serve to diminish the effect of jolting. The shafts are like those of a common dray, with a sort of shelf to support the driver sitting sideways about ten inches behind the horse. The wheel tires are of surprising breadth and thickness, and cogged as if made for use in a machine. In fact, a “machine” is exactly the word for the whole concern; and on coming out of the said machine after a long journey, and its accompanying jolting over execrable roads, it may well be doubted whether one would not feel bruised “all over alike.”

Our merchant friend gave us a hearty welcome, and bade us be seated in his house, which closely resembled the house of the merchant with whom we dined at Maimatchin. Usually, when a guest enters a Manchu dwelling, one of the women fills and lights a pipe, and having taken a few puffs herself, and wiped the mouthpiece with her hand or apron, presents it. The people in the house we visited were perfectly ready to show us anything and everything we desired to see. One of them was writing, with Indian ink and pen of split reed, or pencil of squirrel’s hair, when, upon observing that I watched him closely, he wrote my name in Chinese on a piece of paper, and gave it me as a souvenir, whilst I did the same in English, and so returned the compliment. They presented me also a bundle of joss-sticks for making a perfume, and which they burn before their idols.

Adjoining the room in which we sat was the shop, where they arrayed me in silk dressing-gowns of splendid quality. Among the articles the Manchu sell to the Russians are silk stuffs, peltry, artificial flowers, felt shoes, matting, etc.; but I saw nothing that so tempted me as the silk dressing-gowns. I forbore to purchase one only because my companion told me that I should get them better and find a larger selection in Japan. We contented ourselves, therefore, with admiring them, to the amusement, apparently, of the Manchu, for they repeatedly imitated not only our speaking but our words and exclamations of surprise, and even our manner of laughing.

I heard in this town of a strange method of treatment of the dead, for Mr. Niellsen told me they were kept in the house for several days; they are then half buried in a funereal hut in the garden or field. The corpse is daily visited by the relatives, who bring all sorts of food and drink. The food is put to the mouth of the deceased with a spoon, and the drink is placed in small cups outside the hut. A few weeks pass in this manner, and then the decomposed corpse is buried deeper.

Steaming away from Sakhalin-Ula, we passed several kinds of Manchu boats, which present a lively appearance on the river. The junks for heavy merchandise are about 60 feet long, from 12 to 14 feet wide, with high bows and sterns, and a large mast, 40 feet high, amidships. Most of them are built on the Sungari, and have a small hut-like construction at the stern. They draw from three to four feet of water, and are manned by a crew of ten,—eight for pushing at the poles, one to steer, and a pilot on the bows to sound and announce the depth of water. Smaller than the junks are the merchants’ boats, with an awning over the state-room, in which the merchant lives, whilst his crew and cargo are stowed in the forepart of the craft. A good deal of valuable merchandise is sometimes carried on board. I remember going to one of them at a stopping-place where the owner showed me a gold watch, said to be of English make, about which, however, when asked for an opinion, I was bound to express my doubts. I thought perhaps the man of business might be disposed to purchase my revolver, for which I had had no use, and found it somewhat in the way. I offered it, therefore, to him for what it cost me. He was accustomed only to the prices of the common Russian revolvers, whereas mine was of good English make. The figure, therefore, alarmed him, though, perhaps, after an hour’s patience, we might have come to terms; but the whistle sounded, and I had abruptly to close our negotiations and make for the steamer.

A Manchu fishing-boat is made of the trunk of a hollowed-out tree, cut in two pieces, fastened with wooden pegs, and secured from leaking with pitch. The small ones are propelled by one man, with a double-bladed paddle. They also make flat-bottomed boats of planks. Most of them carry flags or streamers, and some have dragons’ heads on their bows.

The traveller sometimes sees a novel method of fishing by the Manchu, who sit perched on a tripod of tent-poles, ten feet high, placed at the edge of the river. Here the fisherman waits, like a heron, watching for fish, which he catches with pole, net, or spear, according to circumstances. One would suppose the seat must be very uncomfortable, but these tripods, tied at the top, are seen on many sandbars and shoals, showing it to be one of the recognized methods of fishing. I saw also, below Sakhalin, another curious fishing machine, something like a hand-cart, with two small wheels and long handles. A frame over the axle sustained a long pole, from which was suspended a net about the size of a shrimp net. The machine could thus be wheeled into the water, and the snare lowered, after which the net was lifted again with its catch. During winter, when the river is covered with ice, the Daurians practise a third method of fishing, known to the Cossacks as chekacheni, or “malleting.” Where the ice is transparent, the fish may be seen almost immovable near the surface of the water beneath it. A few blows on the ice with a mallet stun the fish, a hole is then made, and they are taken out with the hand or a small net.

The Manchu are excellent archers. At the military stations trials of skill take place periodically in the presence of the Mandarins and others.⁠[3] “To know how to shoot an arrow,” writes a Manchu author, “is the first and most important knowledge for a Tatar to acquire.” I presume, however, this was written before the introduction of the clumsy Manchu matchlock.

Fourteen miles below the Zeya, and a few hours after leaving Blagovestchensk, our steamer arrived at Aigun, the chief town of the Manchu on the Amur, and once possessing considerable strength. It was formerly the capital of the Chinese province of the Amur, but the seat of government was transferred, some five-and-thirty years ago, to Tsi-tsi-har. It has now a population estimated at 15,000. The town is built on a bank some 8 or 10 feet above high-water mark. The tableland behind the town extends to mountains in a serrated chain, which show themselves as a background to the picture upon the southern horizon.

The Government buildings and several temples are surrounded by a double row of palisades, in the form of a square; and outside this are several hundred mud houses. The town has a gloomy appearance. The houses are nearly all of but one storey, and stand in square yards surrounded by fences of stakes or wickerwork. The only relief to the eye is produced by the gaily-painted temples, which are surrounded with trees, apparently sacred groves, the more noticeable as growing timber is scarce in this region. The temples are square buildings erected with rather more care than private houses. The walls are made of thin poles set up side by side, with the interstices filled with clay, and smoothened. The sloping roof is thatched with straw. As you enter you find yourself in an ante-room, separated from the inner compartment by a curtain running along the width of the temple, and suspended from slender pillars. The curtain being drawn aside, there is seen a table against the wall, upon or over which is a picture of a deity; and on the table lie dried stems and leaves of Artemisia, and some Chinese coins. There is also a semi-globular vessel of metal, with three holes on each side, which is struck by the worshipper, after he has made his obeisance, to attract the notice of the god.⁠[4]

I observed at Aigun, as at Maimatchin, the proximity of the temple and the theatre, and noticed poles standing in front of the Government houses and temples. But I am not clear whether they are merely flag-poles or whether they are for a purpose mentioned by Mr. Ravenstein, who alludes to poles fixed on the screens facing the doors of private houses, the upper parts of which poles are ornamented by the Manchu with the skulls of beasts of prey, small flags, and horsehair, and during prayer are hoisted whilst the worshippers lie prostrate.

Very few foreigners have succeeded in gaining admittance to Aigun. Mr. Collins, with Captain Fulyhelm, made a resolute but fruitless endeavour to do so.⁠[5]

This exclusiveness, however, appears to have abated in after years; for in 1866 Mr. Knox had no difficulty in visiting the town, even when the Governor happened to be absent. He speaks of the streets as having some dry spots, but that otherwise, by reason of the mud, he should describe the measurement of the “broadway” of Aigun as about two miles long, 50 feet wide, and “two feet deep.” The shops in one of the principal streets have open fronts. Here the merchandise is exposed, and the merchant, attired in silks, gravely smokes his pipe till a purchaser enters. Dragons and other figures, cut in paper, are fixed to poles surmounting the shops, and paper lanterns hang across the street. The town has a guard-house and military quarters, and there was pointed out to me, from the deck of the steamer, the fortress and gateway leading to the Government quarter. Over the gateway was a small room, like the drawbridge room in a castle of the middle ages. Twenty men could be lodged there to shoot arrows or throw hot water on an invading foe.

I was not fortunate in getting into the city—not, however, through any difficulty with the authorities (as Baron Stackelberg offered to telegraph to the Chinese Governor to give permission for me to enter), but, owing to delays, our boat was so behind time that the captain could not be induced to lose a couple of hours for the purpose. We stopped, therefore, only a few minutes to take in passengers. Crowds of Manchu and Chinese came to the bank, some of the women having very remarkable head-gear. Men with a cloth about the waist were washing their plump little Manchu horses in the river; and we saw a number of junks drawn up on the banks. These represent some of the Chinese naval force on the Amur,—but only some, I suppose—because, when the Russians obtained the river, the Chinese transferred their navy to the Sungari. Towards this river we proceeded, after leaving Aigun, and arrived, as I have said, on the following day at Khabarofka, which may now be called the military capital of the Sea-coast province.

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