ACROSS MONGOLIA.
The Russo-Chinese frontier—Maimachin—The Mongols of
to-day—Curious customs—Hair-dressing extraordinary—A pestilent
farmyard—Exciting incidents—A forced encampment—An awful
night’s experiences—The Manhati Pass—Magnificent scenery—I
pull off a successful “bluff”—“Angliski Boxe” in the wilds of
Mongolia—Arrival at Ourga.
[Illustration: ON THE ROAD TO OURGA.]
There are two means of getting from Kiakhta, the Siberian frontier
town, to the Mongolian capital, Ourga—either by camel caravan or in
an ordinary Russian tarantass, drawn by horses. I chose the latter
conveyance. The distance, a little over two hundred miles, takes four
days, as the same horses have to do the entire journey, there being no
means of getting fresh relays on the road.
It was a lovely, spring-like morning when, in a fairly comfortable
vehicle with three strong horses, I crossed the frontier, my saddle-horse
being fastened loosely alongside the tarantass, to be ready at a moment’s
notice in case of need when fording rivers or for sporting purposes.
What actually marks the “frontier” it would be difficult to say. Beyond
a narrow, dirty strip of what I believe is called “neutral ground,” but
which is evidently used principally as a sort of Russo-Chinese dust-bin,
there is nothing to denote the borders of the two vast empires, and
the road passes right across into Mongolia without a break. Many years
ago, I learnt, some sort of barrier existed, but it has long since been
done away with. The Russians, who, as a rule, are so fond of sticking
up their national coat of arms and placing their black-and-white
sentry-boxes wherever practicable, doubtless consider this remote corner
unworthy of such ostentation, for there is here a striking absence of
these (in Siberia) familiar objects. Mentioning this noteworthy absence
of any national insignia here, reminds me of a remarkable instance of
clairvoyance on the part of a traveller who crossed this frontier
_within the last five years_, and who described, in his subsequent
“Impressions de Voyage,” in a most graphic manner, having passed, on
that auspicious occasion, “a guard-house and high wooden gates,” which
were burnt down _nineteen years_ previously! Once, however, on the other
side of the neutral ground, one finds one’s self in quite another world,
so to speak, for here is the wonderfully quaint little Chinese town
of Maimachin, which presents as great a contrast to the neighbouring
Siberian town, Kiakhta, as could be imagined.
From the outside, little can be seen of Maimachin, as it is surrounded
by a high wooden palisade; but once entered through the picturesque
archway, Siberia is, as it were, left so completely that it takes a few
minutes to get used to the wonderful transformation, for at one step, so
to speak, one finds one’s self in the Far East, with all its brilliant
colouring and strange costumes. There are probably no two nations in
the world which present a greater dissimilarity in point of artistic
taste than the Russian and the Chinese; so, going direct from one to
the other, the contrast is positively startling. Maimachin is a poor
specimen of a Chinese town, but is almost like a museum compared with
the monotonous aspect of Siberian cities. This town, with about two
thousand inhabitants, is of some importance as the final stage for the
camel caravans with tea before they reach Siberia and the consignment
is handed over to the Russian merchants. It therefore always presents
a busy and animated appearance. A most striking peculiarity here is the
entire absence of women; for, according to Chinese law, no female of that
nation is permitted to dwell beyond the Great Wall. The Chinese who seek
their fortunes in Mongolia readily, however, console themselves with
Mongolian ladies, in the absence of their own countrywomen.
After passing through Maimachin, the road—a broad, well-defined track—lay
for many miles across level grassy plains, bounded in the extreme
distance by a low range of hills, and was flat and uninteresting in the
extreme. A few wretched _yourts_, or huts, with some camels and cattle
browsing here and there, were the only signs of life in the vast solitude.
[Illustration: A MONGOL YOURT.]
Before proceeding further into Mongolia, a short description of the
Mongols and their habitations may be of interest. A yourt is a sort
of cone-shaped hut, covered with a kind of coarse felt made out of
sheep’s wool. Its walls are held up on the inside, to a height of about
five feet, by a circular arrangement of wooden lattice-work; this also
supports the roof, not unlike a huge umbrella, the ribs fitting tightly
into the lower part; the centre of this is something like a big wheel,
from which the ribs radiate, being left open to allow the smoke from the
fireplace to escape. This fireplace in the centre of the apartment is
usually a rough sort of iron basket on feet. One portion of the interior
is invariably furnished with a kind of altar, on which are placed various
religious emblems; for the Mongols are a sincerely devout people, and
their devotions form an important item in their daily routine. The
residence of a noble or rich Mongol is usually composed of several
yourts for the different members of the family, and is often gorgeously
furnished, one or two I have visited having valuable carpets and curios
in them which simply made my mouth water. In such dwellings of rich
Mongols one yourt is specially set apart for the reception of visitors;
but these abodes of wealth are very few and far between, possibly because
there are not many rich Mongols. By “rich,” I mean being the possessor
of many horses or camels and head of cattle and much _yamba_, as Chinese
bar silver is called, for gold is not valued at all by the Mongols. The
average yourts were indescribably filthy, not only serving as shelter
for families of several persons of both sexes herded indiscriminately
together, but in many cases for sheep or goats with their young. As,
added to which, the smoke from the fire as a rule only partially escapes,
the atmosphere under such conditions may be imagined. Living, therefore,
in such human pigsties, it is not to be wondered that the ordinary
Mongol presents an extremely unsavoury appearance, so that it is often
difficult to tell whether nature gave him a black or a white skin; for
they are not a water-loving race, cleanliness evidently not being one of
the appurtenances of godliness from Mongol-Buddhist point of view.
[Illustration: A MONGOL.]
The curious fashion of the women fixing their hair in a sort of circle
round their faces by means of massive silver ornaments has often a very
incongruous effect, as I have seen old hags, dressed in a mass of rags
which a professional London rag-picker would pass in disgust, with quite
a little fortune on their heads, in many cases even among the poorer
classes to the value of £30 or £40! All the family savings go first
towards providing a wife with the orthodox jewellery, as a girl is not
spoken of as a “woman” till her hair is dressed properly—never mind the
rest of her wardrobe. Among the very poorest classes I have occasionally
seen strips of wood used when silver could not be afforded, but this is
very exceptional. Of course, in their dress, as in their dwellings, there
are social class differences, and the rich or noble Mongols wear clothes
of the finest silks of the most gorgeous hues, their wives and daughters
being decorated with costly silver jewellery of exquisite workmanship.
Among women of the higher classes are to be found actual beauties, and
the curious method of arranging the hair is really very becoming when
it encircles a pretty face with sparkling eyes and pearly teeth. I
remember on one occasion seeing a princess riding through Ourga who was
so startlingly beautiful that the apparition simply took my breath away;
it was like a vision from the “Arabian Nights,” and for several days
after I felt quite “smitten” with the lovely unknown one, and my appetite
suffered considerably in consequence!
Although as a distinct nation the Mongols are slowly disappearing,
owing to gradual fusion with the Chinese, still there are many amongst
the descendants of the old princes who yet cling to the idea that the
glorious times of Genghis Khan will again return, and that some day
another such leader will appear and restore to this once so mighty race
its old prestige. In fact, there is one sect amongst the people who
believes that Genghis Khan is not dead at all, but has only disappeared
for a time, and will on some not very distant date again return to earth;
and in the national songs the name of this hero and his great deeds are
continually appearing. _En attendant_ this millennium, however, the
Mongols have lost all trace of the formidable warriors they were in
the past, and have lapsed into such quiet and inoffensive beings that
it is hard to realize they are descendants of the mighty horde which
once conquered Russia, and threw all Europe into a state of panic.
Of their old national characteristics but one really remains—their
wonderful horsemanship; for I believe that the Mongols as a nation enjoy
the undisputed reputation of being the finest horsemen in the world,
and this in spite of their, to European ideas, somewhat ungainly seat
in consequence of the use of a short stirrup. One can imagine what
magnificent cavalry these men must have made under their old leaders.
However, _revenons a nos moutons_.
As we gradually neared the confines of this “steppe,” trees appeared
on either side, till we were in a sort of open forest when we reached
the foot of the hills. Out on the plains, in the brilliant sunshine,
there had not been the slightest trace on the ground of the recent heavy
falls of snow; but among the trees and on the higher ground it still lay
thickly, and gave a very cold and wintry appearance to the scene. The
extreme mildness of the temperature was, however, rapidly doing its work,
and under the genial rays of the sun the remaining vestiges of winter
fast disappearing. The road, in consequence, was in an awful state,
in many places the water and mud being so deep as to render it almost
impassable. Our three game little horses, however, struggled bravely on,
and, without any further excitement than the waving of the driver’s puny
whip, managed to get us along.
With the exception of a couple of hours’ rest in the middle of the day,
we pushed on steadily till nightfall, when we reached the station
where the halt for the night was to be made—a couple of yourts close
together forming a sort of Mongol farm, where my driver from experience
knew he was certain to be able to get hay and water for the horses. I
do not think I was ever in a more gloomy or depressing spot. It was a
sort of narrow valley between two high hills, with scarcely a trace of
vegetation. Heavy clouds, gradually coming up, now quite obscured the
sky, and the deadly stillness of the air betokened some approaching
change in the weather during the night. All around were curious looking
objects lying on the ground. In the twilight I could not at first
distinguish what they were, but on a nearer inspection I discovered
that these were dead oxen. I counted fourteen lying within a few yards
of the huts; and, judging from the odour, I imagine they must have been
dead some considerable time. On inquiring of my driver the reason of
so wholesale a slaughter, he told me that they had not been killed,
but had died from starvation, owing to the severe winter. The wretched
inhabitants of the two yourts, in the apathy caused by their misfortunes,
had not the energy to remove the decomposing carcases out of sight. I
could not help feeling thankful that we had encamped far enough away to
be clear of the perfume of this pestilent farmyard.
The night I passed comfortably enough wrapped up in my _dacha_ in the
tarantass, whilst my driver, used to the peculiarities of Mongol life,
sought his couch inside one of the yourts. Towards morning it came on to
blow and rain, and in a short time such a tornado burst over us, that I
expected every minute the ramshackle vehicle would be blown bodily over;
fortunately, however, it was heavy enough to withstand the gale, which
abated almost as suddenly as it had arisen, and when towards five o’clock
we made a start, it was a beautifully clear morning, with every promise
of a fine day. The country presented now, if anything, a more desolate
appearance than any we had hitherto passed through—it was a “desert” in
every respect. All around were low sandy hills, without even a bush to
break their monotonous appearance; not even a blade of grass was to be
seen on the wide expanse of stone and sand. The aspect was uninteresting
in the extreme, so I got my driver to “hurry up a bit,” so as to get
out of the dreary surroundings as quickly as possible. We had to do the
next eight hours with scarcely any stoppage, as there was no sign of any
human habitation anywhere in this solitude, and no human beings meant no
water or hay for the horses, so we were obliged to push on at any cost.
About one o’clock we at length sighted a few wretched yourts, and in a
few minutes drew up at the station, after the longest stage we had yet
made. The horses did not seem very fatigued, however; as long as they got
plenty to eat and drink, the distances between the stations affected
them but little—the hard work they were used to. Four hours we had to
pass in this dreary uninteresting place. I managed somehow to while away
the time with my pipe and sketch-book, and very glad was I when we at
last started preparations for continuing the journey.
[Illustration: OUR MIDDAY HALT.]
The day, which had commenced so brightly, had not fulfilled its early
promise; the sky had gradually become obscured, and, as on the previous
afternoon, the wind also showed signs of renewed activity; so when the
yemschik told me that we had forty versts (twenty-eight miles) to do
before we reached the next station, and that on the way a nasty bit of
river had to be crossed, I was still more anxious to push on, so as to
reach our encampment before dark if possible. For several miles the road
now lay along a level plain, intersected here and there by small brooks,
swelled into rushing torrents owing to the recent rains, and which in
many cases were only with great difficulty crossed, as the banks were
generally very steep. Owing to the many delays and the frequent big
_détours_ we had to make, night was upon us when we at last reached the
river the yemschik had told me of in the afternoon. By this time the
wind, which fortunately was at our backs, had changed to a piercing cold
gale from the north, and snow was beginning to fall heavily. There was
every prospect of an extremely dirty night, and one which I should not
have cared to be out in anywhere under any circumstances, still less in a
rickety tarantass on the desolate steppes of Mongolia. In the darkness I
could hear the rushing sound of the swollen river as it raced by, and I
could just manage to discern its turbid stream by the large masses of ice
floating by like ghosts in the gloom.
It was anything but an encouraging spectacle, and had there been the
slightest sign of anything to afford a kind of shelter, I should have
persuaded the driver to wait until daybreak before crossing; but all
around was bleak, open plain, over which the merciless wind blew with
ever increasing force, and the driving snow felt like so many needles,
so there was absolutely nothing for it but to chance getting across
the river, as the man said the station was only some ten versts off.
The horses, however, evidently took a different view of the matter,
and it was some time before they could be got to advance even to the
water’s edge, and still longer before they would venture into it. It
was an awkward moment, for they started plunging and kicking to such an
extent, that I expected every moment to find myself in the water with
the tarantass on the top of me. We had nearly got over, and without any
incident, for the water was barely four feet deep, when my saddle horse
was seized with ungovernable fear, and managed to break loose somehow,
and bolted back as fast as he could. A few minutes after and we were safe
on the opposite bank.
In the mean time the snow was coming down so thickly that everything was
already completely covered with it, so much so that it was impossible to
distinguish the track leading from the river. In vain did the yemschik
get down and search about on his hands and knees for some clue to guide
him as to its whereabouts. His efforts were futile, for there was
absolutely nothing to go by; and although after a few minutes’ search he
got up and drove off full speed, I felt convinced by his manner that he
was on a wild-goose chase. And so it proved, for in a very short time
he pulled up again and once more got down to have another search. But it
was useless, as I could see by the bewildered way in which he was looking
about, and every minute made the chances of hitting on the track still
more remote, for all this time it was snowing so thickly that it was
almost impossible to see a yard ahead. The cold was also intense.
On the man getting back on to his seat, as I thought with the intention
of driving on further, I asked him what he intended doing, as I felt
sure it was useless risk going on blindly, and perchance getting turned
over into some gully or losing ourselves quite hopelessly. At first
he did not reply, and when he did it was only to mumble out something
about hearing dogs barking close by, so there must be a yourt near. I
listened, but heard absolutely nothing but the roaring and screeching of
the wind; when, on looking at the fellow again, I saw to my horror that
_he was going to sleep_—the long exposure to the cold was beginning to
take effect. Sleep under such conditions I was well aware meant _death_,
so I immediately sprang up and commenced shaking him as hard as I could,
and after a while succeeded in waking him. I then told him that I had
decided not to risk going on any further, but to remain where we were
till morning, and that we should have to unharness the horses and make
them as comfortable as we could with some oats, which we providentially
happened to have left. Suiting my action to my words, I got out and lent
him a hand as well as I could, although it was more to show him that I
intended to stand no nonsense than to really help; for Siberian harness
is a complicated arrangement of tied ropes and straps, which wants some
knowing before meddling with it in the dark. My determination had the
desired effect, for in a very few minutes we had the horses stalled on
either side of the shafts, which we managed to prop up, and by placing a
piece of loose sacking over them, made a very good impromptu manger, out
of which the three hardy brutes were soon eating their oats as tranquilly
as though in a stable, paying not the slightest heed to the snow or wind,
so used are they to be out in all weathers.
All being secure, I then ordered the man to get into the tarantass and
roll himself up in his sheepskin, and after a stiff glass of vodka
apiece, to keep out as much cold as possible, I attempted to go to sleep.
I say attempted, for very little sleep did I get, and I hope never again
in my life to spend such a wretched night as I did that 8th of April.
The cold seemed to come in at every corner and crevice of the hood which
sheltered us, and it was almost impossible to get even the chill off one,
whilst the whistling of the wind around and the uneasy movements of the
horses combined to keep me from anything but just dozing off till the
welcome dawn appeared; and with it the weather cleared up and the storm
abated. Then what a magnificent spectacle presented itself to my eyes on
looking out of the tarantass! in spite of being cramped in every joint
with the cold, I could not help being impressed with the grandeur of the
effect. We were right at the very foot of the mountains, which, covered
with snow, towered high up above us, like dim white monoliths against the
deep blue sky, their summits, which caught the rays of the rising sun,
glowing like solid gold.
The yemschik, who had got up some little time before me, had been
meanwhile reconnoitring for the lost track, and eventually found it only
a short distance away, but quite in another direction to the one we had
been proceeding in; so it was fortunate we had not gone on, as he himself
owned. The horses, though naturally not looking over-bright, appeared
none the worse for their exposure to the storm, so, before proceeding to
the station, the man suggested his galloping back on one of them a short
distance, to look if he could see anything of our runaway. This I agreed
to; so off he went, and, as luck had it, returned in less than an hour
with the delinquent in tow. He had found it on the bank of the river,
close by where it had bolted. We were not long in reaching the station
after this, and, in spite of its grimy interior, I managed to make myself
really comfortable in front of its cheerful fire till it was time to
start again.
We had now reached the _crux_ of the journey to Ourga, the pass through
the Manhati Mountains. I gathered, from what the Mongol of the yourt was
telling my yemschik, that the road further on was in a very dangerous
condition, and that therefore he would go with us part of the way, to
lend a hand in case of accident. We therefore made a start, under the
pilotage of our good-natured host, and he and I rode on a little distance
ahead to ascertain the condition of the track after the storm. The sharp,
exhilarating morning air and the bright sunshine considerably helped
to liven me up again, and even my wiry little horse, with a good feed
inside him, was as game as possible, and evidently not a bit the worse
for his night’s outing. It had undoubtedly been a very severe frost
during, or immediately after, the storm, for the steep track was simply
coated with ice; so we had to proceed very cautiously indeed, and pick
our way along as well as we could between the rocks, the heavy tarantass
following us up very slowly. In many places the road followed the very
edge of a precipice, where any accident would probably have been followed
by disastrous consequences. It took us two hours to reach the top of
the defile, and then, after a few minutes to rest the horses, during
which time I had opportunity to fully enjoy as fine a panorama of forest
and mountain as I have ever seen, we started on the downward journey,
which, if anything, offered still more difficulties than the part
just accomplished; for this side of the mountain facing the south, had
evidently been but the previous day a sort of series of torrents caused
by the melting snow, and the severe frost during the night had been
sufficient to coat them thickly with ice, but naturally not strong enough
to bear the weight of a man, still less a horse, so my poor yemschik was
more than half the time floundering about up to his knees in icy cold
water, as he had to lead the horses the whole way, so treacherous was
the ground, and timid the animals in consequence. In spite, however, of
the almost impassable state of the defile, we managed fortunately to get
through without the slightest incident worth mentioning, and exactly four
hours after starting reached the plains once more, where the whole aspect
of the surroundings changed suddenly as it were.
In front of me, stretching away into the far distance on either side,
till where it was bounded by a faint blue wall of mountains, was a vast
prairie, and on its surface not a trace of snow was to be seen. In the
long grass cattle were grazing peacefully, or standing knee-deep in
a rippling stream, which sparkled like a silver ribbon thrown across
the green sward. Some little distance off, a group of Mongols, dressed
in yellow and red _khalats_, were galloping merrily along, the sound
of their voices and laughter reaching me quite plainly on the still
atmosphere; while a gorgeously coloured tent near by gave a still
further note of colour to this delightful picture. In the warm sunshine
the effect was almost one of having reached a “promised land,” so great
a contrast did it offer to the cold wintry appearance on the mountains
close by.
The rest of the journey was all clear sailing; for, with the exception of
the last part of the road, which was again very mountainous, the track
was very level, and we made good progress, encamping for the usual halts
at the yourts of friendly Mongols, known to my driver. By the way, an
incident occurred on one of these occasions, which may be of interest.
At a yourt where we had halted for our midday rest, a large tea caravan,
consisting of several hundred carts, was also encamped; all the oxen
were out on the plains, and the drivers, a crowd of some twenty swarthy
Bourriats and Mongols, were loafing about, smoking and whiling away the
time as best they could. My arrival was, of course, quite an event, and,
although my man asked them not to do so, they crowded round me in a very
offensive manner as soon as I left the tarantass. One may imagine what
would be the effect if a Mongol were suddenly to arrive in the midst
of a crowd of English roughs. My position was somewhat similar, except
that there was no friendly policeman near. I felt instinctively that
I was going to have a very unpleasant time of it unless I managed to
score off them somehow; nor was I mistaken, for in a few minutes a sort
of Mongol-Bourriat chaff commenced at my expense, although, of course,
I understood but very little of what was said. Well, this went on for
a little while, during which I was positively hemmed in by the crowd,
who would persist in feeling my clothes and otherwise making me very
uncomfortable. My usually small stock of patience was getting exhausted,
and I felt my “back getting up.” At last I could stand it no longer. The
leader of the gang, who had been doing his best to distinguish himself
in his attempts at “chaff,” having asked me several questions in Russian
which I did not understand, I told him curtly that I did not understand
him, as I spoke but very little Russian.
“Ah,” said the fellow, imitating my accent, “you don’t speak Russian,
don’t you?” and there was a general roar of laughter at his imitative
powers, at the same time one of the crowd was violently pushed, or rather
thrown, against me from behind.
This was sufficient. My blood was up, so, swinging round my elbows to
clear myself some room, I deliberately turned up my cuffs and, going
up to the leader, shook my fist close under his nose, at the same time
telling him as well as I could that although _I_ could not speak Russian
_that_ could any language, as I would soon show him if he wanted to try.
My determination had a magical effect, for he retreated a few paces, and,
smiling in a sheepish sort of way, replied that he did not understand
the _Angliski Boxe_, and added something in an undertone to the men near
him, at which they all gradually moved off and left me master of the
situation. I was not interfered with again after that. I had pulled off a
successful “bluff”!
On nearing Ourga snow once more began to show itself thickly on the
ground, and the temperature gradually lowered till it was so chilly
even in the sunshine that I had to keep my furs on. We were now in
sight of the last spur of mountains which separated us from the plain
in which Ourga is situated, and had a very steep bit of track to do
for the next hour or so. At last we reached the top, where was a huge
cairn, consisting of bones, stones, and all sorts of rags and odds and
ends, offerings to Buddha by pious Mongols on reaching the end of their
journey, or the top of the mountain. As it was now all downhill work till
we reached our destination, I lit my pipe and composed myself comfortably
for the remaining hour before me. But my comfort was destined to be but
of short duration, for the track down the mountain-side, in fact the
whole way, was simply awful, and the shaking and bumping I got during
that hour makes me feel sore even now to think of. The heavy springless
tarantass having to go over rocks and gullies which would have smashed
up any ordinary conveyance in a few minutes, I got the man to drive
slowly in the hope of lessening the shocks as much as possible, for I
was doubtful whether my inside could hold out long under such treatment;
but slow or fast seemed to make but little difference, so at last in
despair I ordered the man to get over the ground as rapidly as possible,
in the hopes of getting to my destination with, at any rate, some of my
most vital arrangements unimpaired. At length a welcome turn in the road
showed me that my sufferings were nearly ended, for on the plain below I
saw a huge conglomeration of dirty yourts and wooden palisades, with here
and there a somewhat higher building to break the dull level monotony.
This dreary place, looking doubly wretched in the wintry surroundings,
was the capital of Mongolia, the sacred city of Ourga, of which I had
heard so much and travelled so far to see. It was a disappointing sight,
to say the least of it, and, with the recollection of my long and
comfortless journey still fresh in my memory, the first thought that
crossed my mind was, _le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle_.