“Since men live not for a hundred years it is vain to scheme for a
thousand”
--_Chinese proverb_
Whereas in Inner Mongolia I did not see the Chakhars in sufficient
numbers to enable me to form even an impression upon which to base a
generalisation as to typical characteristics, the Khalkha or Northern
Mongol struck me as being of rather superior build. Roughly speaking,
I think that the average height of a Khalkha man must be in the
neighbourhood of five feet eight inches, while a large number of them
are really tall. The women are strikingly smaller, and, generally
considered, are not less than ten or twelve inches shorter than the
men. The recollection I have carried away of them is that they are a
fairly handsome race. Masses of black hair surmount almond-shaped,
strikingly bright and responsive eyes; the cheek-bones are high and
slightly flattened. Small, well-formed aquiline noses above shapely
mouths and firm chins lend a suggestion of strong character. The teeth
are, as a rule, beautiful, and a ruddy colouring showing through the
sun-scorched, wind-weathered skin, gives them a very healthy appearance.
The principal difference in dress between the northern and southern
Mongol lies in the arrangement of the hair of the married women. In
Inner Mongolia the form of headdress might be described as a skull cap
of silver filagree, from which long chains studded with precious stones
are suspended. The hair is fastened up and hardly shows at all.
The Khalkha matron, however, is contented with nothing so simple. Her
sleek locks are strained over a wire frame which spreads out like wings
above her ears, and are held together by some resinous preparation,
with jewelled slides at intervals to keep the whole in place.
Surmounting this is the filagree skull cap, often richly set with
turquoises and pearls, and from it hang tassels of pearls ten or twelve
inches in length. In poorer circumstances the jewelled slides have
their counterparts in little strips of bamboo, and the pearls would be
substituted by chains of silver and strings of coral. One and all adopt
this obviously inconvenient style of coiffure, the unmarried girl alone
wearing her hair in long plaits and entirely unadorned. The Khalkha
women must have exceedingly long tresses, for although nine or ten
inches are thus taken up by the wings, the remainder is of sufficient
length to form into long plaits which, as shown in the picture of the
princess, are either confined in highly decorative silver tubes, or
are allowed to fall free on each side of the figure to the waist.
Hat pins being an unknown weapon in Mongolia, it was a matter of
much conjecture to me as to how these ladies contrived to keep their
smart little hats so securely perched on the summit of this elaborate
headdress. The hats themselves are very trim and dainty. Made of course
by the Chinese, who are always great hands with the paste pot, a shape
is first created from bamboo paper, hard and unpliable, not unlike a
jelly mould. Over this is stretched yellow satin, while the brim is
turned up with black velvet in summer, or with a handsome piece of fur
in winter. The crown of the hat tapers to a point embellished by a
gold or silver ornament, which in the case of men supports the ball of
coloured crystal denoting by its colour the rank of the wearer. Men’s
hats are otherwise similar to women’s, and if the wearer belongs to the
mandarin class a peacock’s feather protrudes horizontally from below
the crystal ball. The main difference, headdress apart, between men’s
and women’s clothes is that the former sport a sash bound round and
round their waists with the ends tucked in. All wear long coats and
trousers, the women having their shoulders padded up into little peaks
such as were worn in Elizabethan days. All have very long sleeves, the
cuffs of which are turned up with pale blue--no matter what the colour
of the coat--and cover the finger-tips.
The material from which the clothes of the more wealthy are made is
such as we use for our Court trains. In really beautiful satin brocades
and thick soft silks both men and women are attired in this remote
corner of the globe, and I can well believe that dress forms a heavy
item in Mongol expenditure. Extremely fond of colour, the Mongol taste,
or rather that of the Chinese Worth or Paquin who dictates to them,
runs to rich harmony rather than to garishness, while their constancy
to the prevailing fashion, which here is the very reverse of fleeting
since it probably has not modified in any way for the past hundred
years--maybe much more--renders the finish and workmanship quite
excellent. While possessing small and well-shaped hands and feet, the
Mongols thrust these latter into clumsy boots which we should consider
many sizes too large for them. They are made of inferior looking
leather and the toes turn skywards; their loose tops, coming half-way
to the knee, are usually ornamented with very pretty green and white
sticking.
Of their character one must speak of course almost entirely by
hearsay. Their very name is suggestive, “Mong” meaning “brave,” while
volumes might be filled with legends concerning their prowess. It
would indeed be absurd to generalise at all upon those with whom
one came into personal contact in the space of a few weeks, and in
the complete absence of knowledge of the language. That they have a
keen sense of humour is apparent to the most casual observer, and
anything in the way of a practical joke played off on the foreigner or
equally upon one of their number will produce hilarious merriment. In
common with most people who preserve a simple life and do not allow
their desires to advance beyond the possibility of fulfilment, the
Mongols are, in the absence of a cause which provokes them to anger,
very good-tempered, and most distinctly are they philosophical. An
angry Mongol is, however, an ugly sight, and one, if possible, to be
avoided. Of his capacity for endurance there can be no doubt. It is
constantly exemplified in everyday life. I have indeed heard it stated
that a Mongol will ride 600 miles in nine days, using the same horse
throughout. An instance of their toughness was shown by the cheery old
mafu who looked after our host’s ponies and occasionally rode with us
while we were in Urga. A somewhat heavy fall from his horse one day
resulted in a trio of broken ribs, and the man, whose age must have
been in the neighbourhood of sixty, remained huddled up in his yourt
for twenty-four hours. For bed, however, in our sense of the term, the
Mongol has but little use, and if he cannot live his ordinary life he
usually dies in preference. The mafu turned up the day following his
accident, and upon enquiry as to the damage to his ribs, admitted that
“It hurts a little when I cough”. On another occasion, in the depth
of winter, one of the ponies in his charge strayed, and for thirty
hours was missing. Taking another horse, the old mafu went out into
the neighbouring mountains to find him, and as the hours went on his
employer grew anxious. Night fell, and the thermometer descended two or
three degrees below zero. It was evening on the following day when he
re-appeared, none the worse for his exposure, nor from the fact that
he had not broken his fast throughout the day and a half he had been
absent.
That the Mongols are wantonly cruel, I have never heard any evidence.
Certain cruelty arises from a dogma in their faith rather than from
any direct idea of being maliciously hurtful. They will, for instance,
leave an animal to die in anguish rather than put it out of its misery,
for nominally they are not allowed to take life, and consequently do
not trouble themselves to perform an act of humanity for its own sake.
That they will be brutally cruel when it is a question of revenge
there can be no doubt. On the other hand, that they are capable of
real devotion to their animals is, I think, suggested by the following
incidents, written down as told to me one evening by the Norseman, when
we were sitting on a river bank waiting for wild duck to come up.
“The man will never get over it,” he said. “He was overwhelmed by his
grief. He loved those two fine dogs of his and he kept them only for
his hunting. He took them with him to the mountains to hunt lynx in
the dense forest which cover them over there. Three or four days at a
time, he would go out and his bag was never less than two or three,
sometimes four or five, skins, worth from twenty to thirty roubles
apiece. Then for two days he would sit in his yourt, resting, and
cleaning his guns, feeding heavily, and perhaps drinking the vodka the
Russians had given him when he sold his skins. Pig should be his next
object, he decided, and with one companion and his two dogs he sallied
forth to the mountain side. From a thicket, out rushed four great
boars. Off flew the lynx hounds after them. Bang, bang, went the guns,
and the quarry was slain. But alas! the trusty hound who had leapt up
to it was slain too--shot through the heart. The hunter returned to
his yourt on the plains near Urga, leaving the slaughtered pig behind
him on the mountain side, but bearing with him only the corpse of his
dog. Never before has a Mongol been seen to weep like this man. For
three days he sorrowed terribly. He would take no food. He desired
speech with no man. In life there was no comfort for him because of the
thought that with his own hands he had shot his dog. And now he goes
hunting, taking with him his one lynx hound only, and does not do so
badly. The better of the two dogs is the survivor, but the hunter will
never admit this fact.
“It was this man’s own cousin I often went out with,” continued my
companion, “and he was every bit as keen on dogs. Once when I was with
him up beyond that ridge to the west there, a powerful bull elk broke
cover, and in the twinkling of an eye the dogs were upon him. A careful
aim was taken by the Mongol and--his gun dropped. With a tremendous
kick the elk had freed himself from his pursuers, and uttering a cry of
acute agony the dog fell and lay helpless on the turf. The elk’s hoof
had caught her full in the muzzle, and the space of time during which
she would have the power to breathe through the pouring blood could
be but short. His master ran up, calling to the other man to hurry.
‘Do what you can for her, do all you can to save her life.’ He knew it
was hopeless, and he left to his friend’s care his dying dog. Revenge
surged up in his heart. He thought of nothing but that cruel kick from
the elk’s hoof, and nothing did he consider as to where he was going,
nor as regards provision for the hunt. For two days he pursued his
prey, foodless, drinkless--and he returned empty handed to the camp. ‘I
have killed that elk,’ was all that he vouchsafed when he came back,
and he straightway went out to look at the frozen body of his dog with
its mangled muzzle.”
* * * * *
The Mongols are astonishingly fine shots, and it would take a very
accomplished sportsman to compete with them in potting the pretty
little sable-like tarbagans, whose heads flash in and out of their
holes on the prairie hereabouts with lightning-like rapidity. While
some of the well-to-do Mongols possess fine weapons (rifles of the
most modern design, which I was told were imported from Germany on very
easy terms), the majority of the hunting fraternity content themselves
with old muzzle loaders. Practically all Mongols rest their guns on
some support when aiming, and the muzzle loaders frequently have a
forked attachment which can be let down and fixed in an instant.
The Mongols possess that most enviable capacity for putting away an
immense amount of food at a sitting, following which they can, if
necessary, fast for a very considerable time. The staple food of the
Khalkha Mongol appears to be meat in direct relation to the length of
his purse; horse, camel, mule, antelope, mutton, nothing seems to come
amiss; he takes, too, preparations of milk, farinaceous food, such
as koumiss and millet, as well as brick-tea made with milk. Added to
these, the well-to-do in Urga doubtless buy such delicacies as the
Russian shops provide when it takes their fancy. In a general store
we met one day a charming old mandarin of obvious refinement and high
breeding. He was in company with several ladies for whom he was buying
sweets in the most approved Western style. There were six of them
altogether, four ladies and two men. All were gorgeously dressed, the
ladies with most wonderful ornaments and string upon string of pearls.
The men had fine single stones, one a pearl, and the other a large aqua
marine, set in front of their caps. They tasted two or three kinds of
sweets, and finally, going in for quantity rather than quality, the
doyen of the party purchased a 7-lb. tin of rather unattractive looking
pear-drops, which was wrapped in paper and tied up for him. A moment
afterwards the string broke and the tin fell to the ground, burst open,
and part of the contents scattered on the questionable boards. They
took it most good humouredly, laughing inordinately, and all of them
went down on their knees on the floor to retrieve the sweets. To us
they were exceedingly friendly, and the older mandarin chatted away to
us in indifferent Chinese irrespective as to whether we understood or
not.
Drunkenness, said to be on the increase, is, relatively speaking, far
more common among the Mongols than among the Chinese, and in Urga it is
no unusual thing to see two or three men going about with the cangue,
a wooden collar nearly two feet square, padlocked round their necks
as a punishment for the recent lapse from the paths of sobriety. A
frequent repetition of the offence results in the culprit being marched
off to the yamen and being severely beaten. The most usual method of
becoming intoxicated is by drinking arac, a spirit which is produced
by fermenting mares’ milk. I understand that one has to drink this in
large quantities to attain to the condition, but bulk, if in the end
the object is achieved, seems to offer no drawback to the inebriate,
for I have known Breton peasants who would put away as many as ten
litres and become gloriously drunk before half their day’s work
was done. A certain amount of Chinese whisky derived from grain is
imported, but it is very much more expensive, of course, and, generally
speaking, even with its more tardy result, distilled mares’ milk is
preferred by the Mongols. The lamas, whose vows in addition to those of
celibacy include abstinence from strong drink and the flesh of animals,
are also to be found amongst the bibulous.
The more degenerate Chakhar is said to be addicted in a very slight
degree only to the use of opium, but so far as I was able to ascertain
the vice in Outer Mongolia is practically unknown. In view of this
fact it was interesting to read in “The Times” immediately on my
return from Mongolia that an English syndicate at Harbin had been
reported to have made a proposal to the Mongol Government to pay
them £100,000 annually for the privilege of importing opium into
their country. Upon the Russian Agent at Urga protesting, the Mongol
Government replied to the effect that the danger arising from opium
in Mongolia was in no sense commensurate with the advantages to be
derived from the annual receipt of a million roubles; also, that the
opium would not be for the consumption of the Mongols. Under the
present conditions of their relations with China and the flight of
the vast majority of Chinese from Mongolian territory, this latter
contention carries its own confutation. The Chinese in Mongolia are
certainly in nothing approaching sufficient numbers at the time being
to justify any syndicate in paying £100,000 per annum for the privilege
of providing them with the pernicious drug. Besides, away from the
influence of Russians, whom he now undoubtedly resents as having got
the better of him, the Mongol when you meet him on his own ground is a
cheery, friendly person enough, and under the most trying and arduous
conditions of travel it is the Mongol who keeps his temper best and who
remains complacent when every one else is inclined to grumbling and
irritability. His utter laziness and hopeless lack of gumption make him
useless in an emergency, and where, I always felt, the Chinese are our
superiors in their wonderful resourcefulness and quick adaptability,
the Mongol is stupid and shiftless in the extreme.
Tremendously under the influence of their priests, the result of their
religion or, perhaps it would be better to put it, the application of
their religion, is not such as to compel one’s admiration. Humanity,
for instance, is by no means one of their salient characteristics, and
their behaviour to old people, whom they will turn out of their yourts
to die on the dust heaps, is absolutely barbarous.
The loose matrimonial relations prevailing amongst the Mongols are much
condemned amongst the Chinese, who, although they take temporary wives
during their sojourn in Mongolia, where Chinese law will not allow
their own women-kind to accompany them, they never attach themselves to
Mongol women in any legal sense. The Mongol women, on the other hand,
are said to prefer the Chinese to their own race as husbands on the
grounds that the former possess kinder and gentler dispositions. The
children resulting from these mixed alliances, of which there are a
great many in Urga, are called “orles” or half-breeds, by the Mongols.
They are easily distinguishable from the others.
Women have no very respected position or _locus standi_ in Mongolia. If
anything in the life of the country can be called drudgery at all, it
certainly falls to the lot of the women. Their claim on their menkind
appears to be mainly sexual, for while they are young and pretty they
seem to enjoy life and “have a good time” (I am speaking, of course,
of life in the capital). They are often very pretty, chic, and healthy
looking, for, in sharp contrast with their Chinese sisters, they lead
a life of freedom and of open air, ride about everywhere with the men,
attend all the festivities that are going on, wear gorgeous apparel and
lovely jewels, and, generally speaking, “go the pace”.
What they do not know about the gentle art of flirtation is not worth
knowing, and the young woman who is unable to attract two or three
lovers to her side is, they say, generally looked down upon. The
northern Mongols appeared to me to be remarkably merry and bright
as compared with the southern. There is on occasions a great sense
of gaiety in Urga when the people seem full of the joy of life, and
perhaps the women are wise enough to accept their privileges rather
than to worry too much about their rights. Mongols, however, are said
to mistrust women greatly, never taking them into their confidence,
or allowing them a finger in the pie of any important business
transaction.