The Bogdor of Kurene is supported on the same principle as are some of the London hospitals—that is, by “voluntary contributions only;” yet so fervent are the Mongols in all matters connected with their religion, that the amount of donations of all sorts which annually reach him is sufficient to support him and his numerous suite of Lamas in a grand and fitting style. All is grist which comes to the Bogdor’s mill; so everything, however small, is acceptable, and the poorest Mongol can offer his humble tribute.
A LAMA.
By the way, I was much struck by the number of Lamas I met everywhere in Mongolia; almost every other man seemed one. On inquiring, however, I found that, although there are so many, most of them are only so in name, but a comparatively small proportion are really priests. It is customary, out of every family where there are several sons, to make at least one of them a Lama. From his earliest childhood his head is shaved, this being the great distinguishing outward mark between the Lamas and ordinary individuals; and though, perhaps, he may not in after life serve as a priest, still he can never marry. The title of Lama, therefore, in most cases, is but a very empty one, and carries nothing with it except the obligation to wear always yellow and red, and to dispense with the pigtail and many other comforts of life.
Still, I could not help feeling that the Mongols are, in their way, a very religious people, and, as I have remarked before, their devotions form an important item in their daily routine; though, perhaps, to an unbeliever in the Mongol Buddhist faith, these devotions may seem to take a form which is somewhat astonishing. Still, it cannot be denied they are carried out with great sincerity. Among the principal features of Ourga are the “prayer-wheels,” which are placed for public use in most of the big open spaces. These wheels, or rather hollow wooden cylinders, are placed under cover of rough wooden sheds, and present at first sight a very curious appearance. Most of them are covered with Thibetan inscriptions, and all are completely filled with prayers written on pieces of paper. In order to pray, all that is necessary—beyond, of course, a sincere faith in what you are doing—is to walk round and round inside the shed, and turn the cylinder with you; the more turns the better. Many of the old people, while operating the large wheel with one hand, at the same time diligently turn a small portable one with the other; a rosary suspended from the wrist is also considered an almost indispensable adjunct. Many of the wheels were very large, so that several people could pray together; but most of them were small, and evidently were only used for private communion, the sheds in many instances being decorated with odds and ends of silk and bits of rags, intended as offerings to Buddha.
A PRAYER-WHEEL, OURGA.
Apart from the wheels are the “prayer-boards,” also placed for public use in various parts of the city, and on which are continually to be seen prostrate figures lying on their faces, and thus literally humbling themselves to the very dust. From a little distance, these boards presented a very ludicrous appearance, which so reminded me of the familiar spring-board in a swimming-bath that I never passed them without an inward grin—if you can imagine what that is—for any outward sign of mirth at the strange proceedings would probably have got me into trouble. The whole action of the people using them was exactly like that of a person preparing to make a run along the board and take a “header” rather than a prelude to a devotional exercise.
PRAYER-BOARDS, OURGA.