Mongolia | Bogd Khan and Mongolian Independence

Whatever his Personal Peccadilloes, for almost a decade the Bogd Gegeen had persistently pursued the cause of Mongolian independence. As early as 1894 the Bogd Gegeen had sent a secret letter to St. Petersburg via one of his chief disciples, a man named Badamdorj, asking whether the Russian government would provide arms and other material aid in the event Mongolia staged an uprising against Manchu rule and established an independence state. He also queried whether Russia would send troops to assist in such an endeavor in the event they were needed. The Bogd Gegeen had his sights set high at the time, envisioned a new Pan-Mongolian state encompassing much of the old original Mongolian homeland. If the uprising succeeded, he wondered in his letter, “May we be allowed to rule the whole of the ancient Mongol territory, making the White Wall [Great Wall] stand as the frontier of Mongol territory?“ The Russians took the letter under advisement, agreeing to the Bogd’s proposals in theory but suggesting that the time was not yet right for an armed uprising. Better to wait until an obvious pretext or opportunity arose before taking any overt action, officials in St. Petersburg cautioned.

The pretext appeared to present itself in late 1908. On Nov. 8 the ineffectual thirty-seven year-old Qing emperor Guangxu died. He had suffered from a nervous condition so severe that loud noises made him ejaculate, and since 1898 he had been under house arrest by order of the Empress Dowager Cixi, his mother by adoption, who ruled in his stead. On the very next day the Dragon Lady Cixi, who had overseen the Qing Dynasty either as regent or power-behind-the-throne for forty-seven years, also transmigrated. The most lurid rumors surrounded the deaths. According to one Cixi had Guangxu strangled by her chief eunuch because she had a presentiment of her own death and did not want him to outlive her. Thus over the years she been accused of killing her first husband, her own son, her co-regent the Empress Cian, assorted by-standers, and now Guangxu, her adopted son. According to yet another rumor Cixi herself had been gruesomely dispatched by a bullet in the vagina by warlord Yuan Shikai. Most of these rumors have been dismissed by modern historians, but the very fact that that were so widely believed at the time demonstrates the Grand Guignol atmosphere which surrounded the the final days of the Qing Dynasty. The twelfth emperor of the Qing, little two-year old Pu Yi, was duly installed on the Dragon Throne on December 2, 1908, but by then hardly anyone believed the dynasty could survive.

In 1909 the Bogd Gegeen, sensing which way the wind was blowing in Qing China, issued the following decree to the Mongolian princes:

Now is the time to make firm our Mongol faith and church, to protect our territory and homeland; and to decide a policy for dwelling in long-lasting peace and happiness. Merely to sit still and let slip this opportunity would mean, far from dwelling in peace and happiness, that we should look upon all kinds of suffering and become unable to rule over our own land and territory . . . Let all of you lamas, princes, and officials consider well your own devices and promptly let me hear what each of you has thought and considered. It will not do for you to sit indifferent, obstructing the important affairs of all the pitiful Mongols who honor and respect your every word and humbly look up to you.

As he probably expected, his noble advisors threw the matter back into his lap. “What do we know? Whatever the Bogd thinks right and clearly instructs from on high and vouchsafes to us, that we shall duly carry out as a command to the best of our endeavor,” was their reply. The Bogd Gegeen promised them that at the following year’s Danshug (ceremonial festival) in Örgöö he would announce his plan of action for Mongolian independence. In the summer of 1910 all the great princes of the four aimags again assembled in Örgöö and asked for the Bogd’s decision. “The secrets of Heaven may not be revealed in advance,” he informed them, “but if all of you could confirm without fail that you would duly obey and fulfill whatever I say, I can make a policy.” This they did, presenting the Bogd with a document with all of their seals on it promising to take whatever course of action he suggested.

In July of 1911 the Mongolian aristocracy again assembled in Örgöö to make their annual offerings to the Bogd Gegeen. These out-of-town visitors usually camped just south of the Bogd’s palaces on the Tuul RIver, near the base of a hill which for this reason became known as Zaisan Tolgoi (Nobleman’s Hill). The issue of Mongolian independence was now at the fore. In a meeting with the Bogd Gegeen they asked, “Supposing the Ch’ing [Manchus] come with a punitive expedition,there are in Mongolia no arms and we have no military training or equipment.What shall we do?” The Bogd replied “If you have the will to set up a state and give our Mongolia peace and security, I will be responsible for making the Manchu troops go back.”

Zaisan Tolgoi, where the Mongol noblemen made offerings

Thus assured, they decided to at last declare the independence of Mongolia and make the Bogd Gegeen both the temporal and spiritual ruler of the new sovereign state. The Bogd also agreed to dispatch a three-man delegation to St. Peterburg to inform the Russians of their decision and to seek aid in the form of cash and weapons. When the Qing amban in Örgöö, a man named Sandoo, learned that the delegation had already left the city he sent twenty soldiers north to the border with Russia to intercept and arrest the delegates before the left Mongolia. They arrived too late, however, and the delegation managed to slip across the border. According to one report, Sandoo, “was almost out of his mind with anger” when he was eventually informed that the delegation had managed to reach St. Petersburg. The delegation arrived back in Örgöö with the news that the Russians were again advising caution, but had tentatively agreed to provide 15,000 rifles and 7.5 million rounds of ammunition in the event armed conflict broke out with the Manchus. Sandoo then sent a missive to the Bogd Gegeen threatening the death penalty for anyone seeking aid against the Qing from foreign powers. The Bogd Gegeen, no doubt aware that Sandoo did not have the wherewithal to carry out these threats, simply ignored the Qing amban.

Then came the October 10 Wushang Uprising in the Chinese city of Wuhan, after which dissident army officers proposed a new provisional government to be headed by Sun-Yat-sen. The Qing Dynasty, although not yet ruled dead, was in its death throes. Mongolia independence had already been declared and now the time had come to assert it. On the evening of November 18, 1911, the Bogd Gegeen sent a four man delegation to the office of Sandoo with a decree which read, “Sandoo amban and his officials and troops are ordered to leave the confines of Mongolia within three days. In the case of failure, troops will be utilized to drive them out . . .”A Russian living in Örgöö at the time reported that “when they read to the amban the decree of the gegeen, the amban was startled and fell back onto a chair and could not say anything for a long time.” It was no doubt hard for him to believe that 220 years of Qing rule in Mongolia was over.

Sandoo (1876–192?), the last Qing Amban in Öröö, was in fact part Mongolian, although he had been born, brought up, and educated in China. He had arrived in Örgöö to serve as amban on February or March of 1910. He was not an uncultured individual. He eventually wrote at least seven volumes of poetry and took a deep interest in the archeology and history of Mongolia. While in Mongolia he visited the stele of the Khökh Turk ruler Kultegin (685–731) in what is now Arkhangai Aimag. He apparently erected some kind of temple to commemorate the stele and etched a short inscription on its back side. He also visited the stele of Kultegin’s advisor Tonyukuk near the current day town of Nailakh, east of Ulaan Baatar, and made copies of the inscriptions, which he sent back to Beijing for the benefit of interested scholars.

His literary and scholarly interests could not, however, protect him from the rising anti-Manchu sentiments in Örgöô. Not long after his arrival in the city he attempted to intercede when a mob of Mongolian lamas attacked and looted the premises of the Chinese trading company Da I-Yu. The lamas pelted him with stones and he barely escaped with his life.

After receiving the Bogd Gegeen’s November 18 decree Sandoo dithered for twelve days, unwilling to abandon his post but bereft of support from Beijing. On November 30 a still more sternly worded ultimatum was handed to him. Scared out of his wits, Sandoo and attendant officials sought protection in the Russian Consulate. Most of the soldiers in the one hundred-man Qing garrison remaining in the city deserted. On December 4 Sandoo and his entourage, protected by an escort of Russian Cossacks, traveled north to Khyakhta and crossed the border into Russia. In Verkhneudinsk (now Ulaan-Ude) they caught a train back to Beijing.

Local bards were never slow in commenting on current affairs in Mongolia, and one immediately composed a song about the Amban’s expulsion which was then bawled out with glee in the city’s marketplaces and streets:

The stinky lanterns that twinkled every evening
Are burnt out
Where is gone the notorious amban
Who commanded the masses?

The lanterns refer to the street lights that Sandoo had introduced into Örgöö. Apparently they burned a smelly oil. Like the Örgöö amban himself they soon disappeared.

Mongolia | Khentii Aimag | Khökh Nuur to Baldan Bereeven Khiid

Sometime during the night the incessant winds that had been dogging us since our arrival in Khökh Nuur died down and the sky cleared off completely. By four o'clock in the morning Orion was dominating the sky overhead. Daybreak saw a faultless dome of azure overhead and by the time we had finished breakfast temperatures were up in the 60s F. This was the kind of balmy end-of-summer weather I had been anticipating when I planned this trip. In high spirits we scarpered eastward toward our next destination, Baldan Bereeven Khiid.

This is Chingis Khan Country. From our starting point on the Terelj River, near where Temüjin, the young Chingis Khan, was living when the Merkits kidnapped his wife Börte, to the current day town of Binder, near where Temujin was born (according to one school of thought), farther on out to the east, stretches the territory where many of the events in the early life of the future World Conqueror took place. At a place called Tavan Tolgoi we stop to inspect some slabs of rock which local lore maintains were used by Chingis as pot supports at his fireplace when his ger was located here.

Purported pot supports at a “Chingis Slept Here” site

The stone slabs look surprising like the tomb coverings at the Monument to Kontuyuk, the advisor to the eighth century Khökh Turk Chieftain Kultegin. If they were Turk tomb coverings that of course does not mean Chingis could not have used them later as pot supports. Still later we pass by a place where Temüjin and his bosum buddy and later Arch-Nemesis Jamukha had their final falling out.

By lunch time we had arrived at Övör Elegiin Gol where Zevgee assured us there would be water. Much to Zevgee’s chagrin, however, the river was dry where the trail crossed it. We followed the riverbed downstream perhaps a thousand yards and soon came to a pool of water where the underground stream emerged. The water was fresh, clear, and icy cold. By the pool was a grassy glade surrounded by cottonwood trees and nearby dead brush offered plentiful firewood. The three essentials for a successful lunch—us, tülsh, and süüder (water, firewood, and shade)—thus provided for we unloaded our pack horses and threw out carpets on the grass beneath the largest cottonwood tree. We lounged on our carpets as Zevgee’s son-in-law Badmaa and grandson Bondogo fetched water and built a fire and in no time at all we were sipping delightfully fragrant Oolong tea (Shan Ling Xi from Taiwan, highly recommended). Tumen-Ölzii rolled out dough for fresh noodles and soon we were tucking into bowls of Guriltai Shöl—mutton soup with noodles. I hardly wanted to leave this idyllic spot, but finally we had a last bowl of tea and then packed up our horses and moved on.

By early evening we had reached Baruun Bayan Gol. Here, according to legend, was born Boorch, one of Chingis Khan’s boon companions. (See Paragraphs 90–93, 95, 99, 103, 120, 124–25, 156, 163, 172, 177, 202, 205, 209, 210, 220, 240, 242, 259–60, and 266 of the Secret History of the Mongols [also Kindle Version] for more on Boorch.) Camped on the sward by the river, with plentiful firewood nearby. Yunnan Gold tea followed by boiled sheep ribs and potato and cabbage soup heavily larded with stick-to-the-ribs mutton fat.

Yunnan Gold—the Perfect Complement to boiled sheep ribs and mutton fat

Just after dark breathtakingly luminous Jupiter appeared in the southern sky, just above the Sagittarius Teapot and just below the dimmer Sagittarius Teaspoon. The clear, cloudless sky soon revealed a full panoply of stars overhead: the constellations of Cygnus, Cepheus, and my personal favorite Cassiopeia to the northeast; the ever-glorious Scorpius off to the south; and of course the Seven Gods (Big Dipper) to the west. And then in the early hours toward morning magnificent Orion appeared. All and all a mindbogglingly gorgeous night. The next morning we moved out quickly, hoping to reach Baldan Bereeven Khiid by lunch time.

On the Road to Baldan Bereeven Khiid

We soon passed Khangalyn Nuur, where there is a monument to “Nature.” A sign on the monument implores people to protect the environment.

Monument at Khangalyn Nuur

Then we moved into the wooded foothills and began the climb to 4,698-foot Khangalyn Davaa.

Khangalyn Davaa

View eastward from Khangalyn Davaa. Baldan Bereeven Khiid is at the base of the mountain on the right edge of the photo.

We arrived at Baldan Bereeven just after noon. We were of course anxious to visit the monastery but first we set up camp, built a fire, and had a pot of Tie Kwan Yin Oolong tea. Tie Kwan Yin, the Iron Goddess of Mercy, is, as you probably know, the Chinese version of Avalokitesvara (Tibetan: Chenresig; Mongolian: Janraisag), the Bodhisatta of Companion, and thus a fitting drink in the environs of a monastery. In honor of our arrival Tumen-Ölzii also whipped up a big batch of Tsuivan, a much hallowed mutton and noodle dish which holds a special place of honor in the firmament of Mongolian cuisine.

Zevgee oversees the teapot at our Baldan Beereveen campsite

Turkey | Mongolia | Golden Horn | Kul-Tegin

Just a few days ago I received a box of new books from Amazon. I get a shipment about once a month. The woman at the post office no longer asks for my ID. When she sees me walk in the door she simply reaches for the box with the big Amazon logo on the side and wordlessly hands it to me. The rush of pleasure I get as I take possession of the box is almost obscene in its intensity. I retire to the nearest French bakery and have a double expresso while I compose myself for the ceremony of opening the box. Finally I take out my black steel Yengisar Knife from Xinjiang which I have brought along especially for this purpose and carefully, lovingly slit open the top of the package. Another swipe of the razor-sharp blade (I had touched up the edge just that morning in anticipation of this event) frees the books from the bonds of their shrink wrap, and like an ardent young lover fondling the breasts of his beloved I take the books into my hands. But instead of two treasures as the objects of desire there are in this case four.

The first one I open is Kurban Said’s The Girl from The Golden Horn.



This is the story of a young Turkish girl named Asiadeh, born in Istanbul, on the Golden Horn. The time is the 1920s, after the fall of Ottoman Empire, and she along with her father are now political refugees in Berlin, Germany. They are nearly destitute, but Asiadeh is able to attend college. The first page begins with her sitting in a classroom in Berlin:

Asiadeh looked up, her gray eyes thoughtful and earnest. “This ‘i’ is the Yakut gerund, similar to the Khirgis ‘barisi.’”

Professor Bang rubbed his long, hooked nose. Behind the steel-rimmed glasses his eyes looked like those of a wise owl. He wheezed sofly and disapprovingly.

“Yes,” he said, “But I still cannot really understand why the ‘a’ should be missing in the Yakut form.” And he sadly leafed through the dictionary.

Goetz, another of his students, whose specialty was the Chinese language, proposed to explain the mysterious “a” form as being a petrified Mongol instrumental. “When I was young,’ said the professor severely, “I too tried to explain everything as being a petrified Mongol instrumental. Courage is a young man’s priviledge.

Now I ask you, who would not be transfixed by a novel that mentions the Mongolian instrumental case on the very first page? I plunged onward, pages flying by like maple leaves in a November gale, until finally on page 50 I read this:

A wild people in the steppes of faraway Mongolia had erected barbaric monuments to their greatness. The people wandered away, but the rough script remained. Weaterbeaten and secret, it looked over the emptiness of the Mongolian steppes into the dark mirror of cold, nameless rivers. Stones fell apart, nomads passed by and looked shyly and fearfully at the half-buried monuments of long-forgotten glory. Wanderers from faraway countries lost their way in the wild wastelands. They brought back to the West stories of mysterious inscriptions. Expeditions set out, skillful hands copied the unknown signs. Then the copies were printed on clean white paper and lay in the quiet rooms of learned men. Dry veined hands caressed lovingly the age-old script, furrowed brows bent over the paper. Slowly the veil of secrecy was lifted, and from the square weatherbeaten symbols sounded the howling of steppe wolves, arose the faraway nomadic people, rose up a wild leader on a small, long-haired horse, came the story of ancient adventures, wars, and heroics. Asiadeh looked tenderly at the rough script. It seemed to her that she was reading the story of her own dreams, desires, and hopes. She sensed something immense, something calling behind the chaos of these primitive forms and structures of words. She sensed the mystic beginning hidden in the oldest sounds of her race. She saw the first people of an emerging tribe as they wandered long ago over the snowy ice-bound steppes, creating the first sounds of a language from the enigma of their souls. Her small fingers followed the lines of the script, and she read slowly, “Sixteen years old was my brother Kul-Tegin, and behold what he did! He went to war against the people of the pigtails and beat them. He threw himself in to the fight, and his hand, the hand of a warrior, reached the enemy Ong Tutak, who commanded fifty thousand men.”

When I had ordered this book I had no idea it had anything to do with Mongolia. Imagine my surprise then to read about not only the Mongolian instrumental case but also the evocative description above of the famous Kul-Tegin Monument in what is now Arkhangai Aimag.

The Kul-Tegin Monument in Arkhangai Aimag
See Text of Kul-Tegin Monument

Statue of eighth-century Turk Warrior in Bayan-Olgii Aimag
See also the Tonyukuk Monuments in Töv Aimag

Last summer internationally renowned adventuress, temptress, and auteur Gunj—our very own Girl from the Golden Horn—visited Mongolia and made a pilgrimage to the Kul-Tegin Monument.

Gunj