protectorsâ, shielded
Buddhists from the enemies of the faith. Popular memory maintained a series of classic âhidden kingâ legends around him, and his eventual return to liberate the Western Mongols (the Oirats) from Chinese domination. In reality Amursana had been, at times, a collaborator of the Manchus, but this was conveniently forgotten. Critically, Amursanaâs place of magical concealment, from which he would soon emerge, was in Russia - the ever-mystical north, where he had died while under Russian protection in 1757. By making his claims, then, Dambijantsan sought to legitimise himself dynastically, through Amursanaâs nobility, politically, by assuming the mantle of anti-Chinese resistance, and theologically, by claiming the magical inheritance of Amursana and the incarnated power of Mahakala. As an epic poem written in his voice put it:
I am a mendicant monk from the Russian Tsarâs kingdom, but I am born of the great Mongols. My herds are on the Volga river, my water source is the Irtysh. There are many hero warriors with me. I have many riches. Now I have come to meet with you beggars, you remnants of the Oirats, in the time when the war for power begins. Will you support the enemy? My homeland is Altai, Irtysh, Khobuk-sari, Emil, Bortala, Ili, and Alatai. This is the Oirat mother country. By descent, I am the great-grandson of Amursana, the reincarnation of Mahakala, owning the horse Maralbashi. I am he whom they call the hero Dambijantsan. I came to move my pastures back to my own land, to collect my subject households and bondservants, to give favour, and to move freely. 23
These were grand claims for a squat, ugly monk, but his charisma and his military success gathered many followers. Ungern had learnt about him from Russian and Chinese newspapers, and probably from the travelogues of the Russian ethnologist and political agent Aleksei Pozdneiev, who collected stories of him in the 1890s, and hoped to join him to fight against the Chinese, but was forbidden from doing so by his superiors. Khobdo had seen fierce fighting only that year between Mongolian fighters and the Chinese garrison, and the Chinese fortress had fallen in a scene of bloody revenge.
The Ja Lama had been at the forefront, politically and militarily, of these battles; he was, as Ungern aspired to be, a near-legendary figure of militant Buddhism. After he seized western Mongolia, although he
claimed to still be loyal to the Bogd Khan, he ruled autocratically for more than two years. The atrocities at Khobdo were typical of his regime. There were plausible accounts, both from his enemies and, later, from former allies, that he conducted a ritual, upon taking the fortress, in which the hearts of two Chinese victims were literally ripped from their chests, like victims of an Aztec sacrifice. 24 The rumour that his ger was lined with the skins of his enemies was probably false, but other lamas reported that he used terror ruthlessly. If Ungern met the Ja Lama, he found him a disappointment - he had sung his praises before his arrival in Mongolia, but referred to him only in disparaging terms afterwards - though he must also have drawn many lessons from him.
Throughout his later career in Mongolia, Ungern professed nothing but respect for Buddhism and âthe destiny of the Buddhist peoplesâ. 25 It was on this trip that he learnt the importance of these beliefs among the Mongolians. It was a strikingly, almost fanatically, Buddhist country, hence the power of the Bogd Khan. No matter what his sins, the Bogdâs theological status - and his political clout - were beyond question. What we observe so often, and what seems so strange at first, is the fear and awe that the Mongolian temples created, both in ordinary Mongolians and even in those, like Ungern, raised in an utterly foreign tradition.
Mongolian Buddhism hinged on sacrifice. The Mongolian gods were demanding, and unmoved by anything except offerings.
Buddhists from the enemies of the faith. Popular memory maintained a series of classic âhidden kingâ legends around him, and his eventual return to liberate the Western Mongols (the Oirats) from Chinese domination. In reality Amursana had been, at times, a collaborator of the Manchus, but this was conveniently forgotten. Critically, Amursanaâs place of magical concealment, from which he would soon emerge, was in Russia - the ever-mystical north, where he had died while under Russian protection in 1757. By making his claims, then, Dambijantsan sought to legitimise himself dynastically, through Amursanaâs nobility, politically, by assuming the mantle of anti-Chinese resistance, and theologically, by claiming the magical inheritance of Amursana and the incarnated power of Mahakala. As an epic poem written in his voice put it:
I am a mendicant monk from the Russian Tsarâs kingdom, but I am born of the great Mongols. My herds are on the Volga river, my water source is the Irtysh. There are many hero warriors with me. I have many riches. Now I have come to meet with you beggars, you remnants of the Oirats, in the time when the war for power begins. Will you support the enemy? My homeland is Altai, Irtysh, Khobuk-sari, Emil, Bortala, Ili, and Alatai. This is the Oirat mother country. By descent, I am the great-grandson of Amursana, the reincarnation of Mahakala, owning the horse Maralbashi. I am he whom they call the hero Dambijantsan. I came to move my pastures back to my own land, to collect my subject households and bondservants, to give favour, and to move freely. 23
These were grand claims for a squat, ugly monk, but his charisma and his military success gathered many followers. Ungern had learnt about him from Russian and Chinese newspapers, and probably from the travelogues of the Russian ethnologist and political agent Aleksei Pozdneiev, who collected stories of him in the 1890s, and hoped to join him to fight against the Chinese, but was forbidden from doing so by his superiors. Khobdo had seen fierce fighting only that year between Mongolian fighters and the Chinese garrison, and the Chinese fortress had fallen in a scene of bloody revenge.
The Ja Lama had been at the forefront, politically and militarily, of these battles; he was, as Ungern aspired to be, a near-legendary figure of militant Buddhism. After he seized western Mongolia, although he
claimed to still be loyal to the Bogd Khan, he ruled autocratically for more than two years. The atrocities at Khobdo were typical of his regime. There were plausible accounts, both from his enemies and, later, from former allies, that he conducted a ritual, upon taking the fortress, in which the hearts of two Chinese victims were literally ripped from their chests, like victims of an Aztec sacrifice. 24 The rumour that his ger was lined with the skins of his enemies was probably false, but other lamas reported that he used terror ruthlessly. If Ungern met the Ja Lama, he found him a disappointment - he had sung his praises before his arrival in Mongolia, but referred to him only in disparaging terms afterwards - though he must also have drawn many lessons from him.
Throughout his later career in Mongolia, Ungern professed nothing but respect for Buddhism and âthe destiny of the Buddhist peoplesâ. 25 It was on this trip that he learnt the importance of these beliefs among the Mongolians. It was a strikingly, almost fanatically, Buddhist country, hence the power of the Bogd Khan. No matter what his sins, the Bogdâs theological status - and his political clout - were beyond question. What we observe so often, and what seems so strange at first, is the fear and awe that the Mongolian temples created, both in ordinary Mongolians and even in those, like Ungern, raised in an utterly foreign tradition.
Mongolian Buddhism hinged on sacrifice. The Mongolian gods were demanding, and unmoved by anything except offerings.
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