Only the silence of the far-off skies
And stars that thro’ the darkness calmly shine.
It was not till the morning of the fifth day out from Saram Bolousar that we sighted a yourt on the horizon and encamped within a mile of it at dinner-time. There were but half-a-dozen tents in all, containing the filthiest and most repulsive beings I have ever beheld.
The majority were, unfortunately for us, not the least troubled with shyness, and took forcible possession of our tent and carts, notwithstanding the indignant protestations of Jee Boo. Remonstrance was useless. It would have been contrary to the rules of desert etiquette to turn them out, and might have got us into trouble. It was a hot day, and so closely were they packed about the tent-doorway that not a breath of air could reach us, yet we suffered in silence, though the smell from the greasy rags in which the poor wretches were clothed was well-nigh unbearable. We must have seen from first to last about a hundred natives, but I was sadly disappointed, I must own, in the Mongolian Tartar. I had pictured him a wild, fierce-looking fellow, bristling with knives and firearms, and leading a wild, romantic existence, of which privation and danger formed a daily part. I found him a mild, stupid-looking individual, lazy, good-tempered, dirty——not to say filthy——in appearance and habits, and addicted to petty theft when there was no fear of being found out.
The men are of middle size, muscular and stoutly built, with thick lips and small beady black eyes. Naturally fair, the combined effects of sun, argol smoke, and last, but not least, dirt give to most of them the hue of a negro. Their women are plain and, as a rule, virtuous. Infidelity is rare in Mongolia, and when it does occur the injured husband is easily consoled by payment of a few sheep or a camel or two. The Mongolian woman’s lot is not a happy one. Unlike their Kirghiz brothers, the Mongolian Tartars have no respect whatever for their wives, of which they are allowed any number, though the first married takes precedence over the others. They are treated more as slaves than companions, and do all the real hard work of the yourt, from catching the camels to disembowelling a sheep! The men, as a rule, live longer than the women. The latter suffer more from disease, although, with the exception of a kind of influenza prevalent in summer, epidemics are unknown in Mongolia.
The Mongol Tartar is essentially a nomad, and seldom stationary for more than a year at a time, but for ever on the move, roving hither and thither over the great plain in search of pasture and water for his flocks and herds. His “yourt” or tent is admirably adapted to his wild, erratic life, being so constructed that it can be taken down and packed on a camel’s back in less than an hour. The “yourts” are circular in shape, and simply consist of two layers of thick felt stretched over a wooden framework secured by stout leather thongs. They are about five feet high, and eighteen feet in diameter. A hole cut in the centre of the conical roof lets out the smoke of a fire, which day and night is kept alight for cooking purposes. The Mongol has no fixed time for his meals. He eats when he feels hungry, and as often in the middle of the night as the day. In winter the roof aperture is closed, and the smoke allowed to escape as best it may through the chinks and crannies in the felt. The fuel used is not wood (for no wood grows in Gobi), but “argol” or dried camels’ dung, the smoke of which is much more dense and pungent, and most of the Mongols suffer from sore eyes in consequence. The furniture of a yourt is simple enough; half-a-dozen sheepskin rugs, a flat iron pan to cook in, a large box containing the goods and chattels of the family, surmounted by an image of Buddha and two or three prayer-wheels; there is little or no room for more. Some of the yourts are better furnished than others, those for example belonging to the khans or princes. The latter are resplendent inside and out with gold, silver, and costly silks; but these are rarely met with by the casual traveller.
With the exception of gluttony the Mongol has few vices. Drunkenness is rare. It is only when the mares are milked and “airak” brewed that they exceed in this respect; but when they do, it is with a will, a whole yourt being given up to drunkenness and debauch for two or three days together. “Airak” is the only intoxicant known to the Mongols, if we except the strong fiery whisky sometimes imported among them by Chinese traders. Dirt is their other failing. I can safely say I have never seen, or even read of a race so loathsome in their appearance and habits as the Mongols. Men and women alike seem to revel in it, and most of them present more the appearance of perambulating bundles of filthy rags than human beings. It was not till we reached Urga, and met some of the better class, that we were able to distinguish what the Mongol costume really is, viz. a kind of loose dressing-gown reaching just below the knee, secured by an ornamented silver belt, a pair of baggy breeches stuffed into a pair of Chinese half-boots with felt soles, the whole surmounted by a broad-brimmed black felt hat, not unlike a sailor’s hat in shape, with long silk streamers. In winter the poor Mongol is smothered in sheepskins, the rich in furs from Siberia. At a distance the women are indistinguishable from the men, the only perceptible difference being that the former wear no belt (the Mongol name for woman signifies literally the “unbelted one”), while all wear a head-dress, a kind of tiara of Chinese manufacture, made of silver and red and blue stones, which look like, but are not, turquoises and coral. A Mongol lady never does her hair more than once every two months or so. It is kept in position by a kind of thick glue, and dressed so as to stand out two or three inches on either side of the head at right angles. The result of this practice in dwellings so infested with vermin as the Mongol yourts may be left to the imagination.
The wealth of a Mongol Tartar consists exclusively of camels, sheep, and ponies, for there is no industry, no manufacture of any kind in Mongolia. The ponies are wonderfully well suited to endure the long, distressing voyages their owners are continually making. Though small and slightly built, the amount of fatigue these little beasts will undergo is something incredible. Nothing seems to tire them, and our own, “Chow” and “Karra,” arrived at Kiakhta as fit and sound as when we left the Great Wall, although they had but five hours’ rest out of the twenty-four for over a month, and for nearly a quarter of that time were on a short allowance of water. The worth of a pony in Gobi varies from 8l. to 10l., or its equivalent in brick tea, for money is unknown in Mongolia, and the currency at present consists solely of this somewhat cumbersome article. We passed two or three droves of 400 or 500 ponies each on our way across, which were being sent to Kalgan for export to Pekin, Shanghai, and other parts of China. Accompanying one of these was a “Mongolized” German, Herr R————, who twenty years ago settled in Mongolia and has made a large fortune buying and exporting ponies. We should never have known him for a European, dressed as he was à la Tartare, and the “Guten Tag,” with which he greeted us, sounded strangely out of place.
The Mongols never shoe their ponies, nor do they groom them. The mane and tail is allowed to grow so long as to almost trail on the ground, the Tartars saying that the length of these appendages keeps them warm in winter, and wards off flies in the hot season; also, in case of a broken bridle or stirrup-leather, there is always the horsehair handy to mend it with!
The ways of these little beasts are at first somewhat confusing to a stranger. It took me some time to get used to “Karra’s” favourite tricks, such as stopping to scratch his ear with his hind-leg, sitting down like a dog, and occasionally rolling without a moment’s warning, when we came to a more than ordinarily tempting bit of grass. He was certainly the cleverest pony I have ever seen out of a circus, and as sweet-tempered as he was mischievous. I shall never forget when, the first day after antelope, I attempted to guide him through the rat-holes and mole-hills that thickly cover the central parts of the desert. We had not gone ten lengths before, getting his head well down, he set to kicking and bucking with such a will, that I expected every instant to see the girths snap and the saddle sent flying! Moses, galloping alongside, motioned me to drop the reins on his neck. The effect was instantaneous, for he immediately became as quiet as a lamb, and bounded away again with a snort and shake of his game little head, as much as to say, “The idea of this idiot trying to teach me my way over the desert!” “Karra” never once gave me a fall, nor made a mistake, although this novel mode of riding at full gallop over rough ground, with one’s hands in one’s pockets, required some nerve at first.