Amarbayasgalant Monastery (Excerpt from Travels in Northern Mongolia) When the Russian ethnographer and linguist Aleksei M. Pozdneev visited here in 1892 Amarbayasgalant, with over 2000 lamas in residence, ranked as one of the largest and most important monasteries in Mongolia. Pilgrims from all the Lamaist world came here to worship in its temples and pay homage to the sharil-the mummified remains-of Zanabazar, the first Bogdo Gegen. I knew that the monastery had been closed and the various temples severely damaged by the communists during the 1930s, and that it had been reopened in the early 1990s and was once again the home of a small contingent of lamas. I had also heard that the monastery was undergoing extensive restorations financed by the unesco branch of the United Nations, which had declared it a "World Cultural Heritage Site", and by private donations, and that it was once again becoming a popular place for Mongolians on both religious pilgrimages and sight-seeing excursions into the countryside. At the moment, however, the parking lot was deserted. Over to the right of the monastery huddled a small conclave of two or three dozen small cabins, shanties, and gers, but not a soul was in sight. Smoke rose from numerous chimneys: apparently everyone was inside having dinner. Between the parking lot and the front of the monastery is the so-called pailur, or spirit shield, a free standing brick wall about fifty feet long and eighteen feet high. According to traditional beliefs the pailur keeps evil spirits, which like to travel in straight lines, from entering the monastery gate; such walls are a common feature of Mongolian monasteries. The bottom pediment of the wall is covered with lustrous green tiles and on the middle of the wall on the side facing the monastery is a large circular bas-relief of green glazed plaster depicting two dragons entwined around the sun. Except for some chipped tiles and broken bricks the wall appears much as Pozdneev described it in 1892. Just to the left of the wall is a narrow column of brick decorated with the same motifs as the wall. In Pozdneev's day there was an identical column to the right of the wall-now only its base remains-and on the columns were wooden tablets with inscriptions in Mongolian that read, "The numerous wangs, dzasaks, and taiji [official ranks given to the Mongolians by the Manchus], and those of lower rank down to the commoner must dismount from their horses here." Pozdneev was told that even the subsequent Bogdo Gegens had to leave their horses here and walk the hundred feet or so to the monastery gate. Above the entrance way is a large tablet with a blue background and gold frame. In gold letters are short inscriptions in Mongolian, Manchu, and Chinese. Pozdneev, who was fluent in each of these languages (in addition to Kalmuk), gives the translation: "The Monastery of Amarbayasgalant, Built at Imperial Command."   The command to build Amarbayasgalant was given by the Manchu emperor Yung Cheng, the son of Kang Hsi. Kang Hsi was perhaps the most illustrious of the Manchu (Ch'ing Dynasty) emperors who ruled China from 1644 to 1912. Upon the death of his own father in 1661 the seven-year old Kang Hsi was placed on the throne with his mother and four regents governing in his name. In 1667, when he was a mere thirteen or fourteen years old, Kang Hsi made his bid for personal control of the dynasty, and two years later he had the most powerful of the regents, Oboi, arrested and thrown in prison, where he died. For the next fifty-five years of his reign Kang Hsi faced innumerable challenges, including rebellions and revolts in the south of China and the Russian occupation of the Amur valley on China's northeast border, but perhaps the most serious was the rise of the Jungarian Empire among the Oirat, or Western, Mongols who inhabited western Mongolia and the upper Irtysh-Lake Zaisan-Tarbagatai Mountains region west of the Altai. I have mentioned in an earlier chapter how in the fifteenth century the Oirats gained temporary control of much of Mongolia following the dissolution of the Mongol Empire founded by Chingis Khan and his descendants, and how in the first part of the seventeenth century, under the leadership of Khara Khula, they again organized into a strong confederation known as the Jungarians. I have also mentioned the rise of the charismatic warlord Galdan Boshugt, Khara Khula's grandson, who entertained dreams of uniting once again all Mongols, including the Khalkhas, as they had been under Chingis Khan and ultimately displacing the Manchus as the rulers of China. By the late seventeenth century the Khalka, or Eastern Mongols, were divided into three main groups-the Zasagt khanate in the western Khangai Mountains and the deserts to the south; the Setsen khanate in the Onon and Kherlen valleys, and the Tüsheet khanate in the Orkhon and Tuul valleys. The Tüsheet Khan was Zanabazar's brother Chakhundorj who, like the others in his line, claimed to be a descendant of Chingis Khan himself. The Khalka khans, at least in their own view, were the legitimate rulers of Mongolia, while the Jungarians were mere upstarts who had no right to the throne once held by Chingis. When the Khalkhas refused to submit to the Jungarians Galdan resolved to add them to his empire by force. Early in 1688 his armies advanced eastward along the northern side of the Khangai Mountains. In April they sacked the great monastery of Erdene Zuu, built on the site of Karakorum, the old Chingis Khanite capital of Mongolia, by Abudai, the great-grandfather of the Tüsheet Khan Chakhundorj and Zanabazar. The Tüsheet Khan, Zanabazar, the Zasagt Khan, and thousands of their followers fled eastward. Galdan and his army chased them up the valley of the Tuul and into the drainage of the Kherlen, seizing immense herds of livestock and other property that had been left behind and razing numerous monasteries. The Khalkhas hoped to regroup in the domains of the Setsen Khan, in the valley of the Kherlen, but Galdan's armies routed them even here. The Khalkhas made one last stand at Olgoi Lake, but on August 28 and 29 1688 they were overwhelmed by the Jungarians. The Khalkha khans and nobles and tens of thousands of their followers joined a mass exodus into the Manchu-controlled borderlands of China where they sought the protection of the emperor Kang Hsi. The refugees eventually may have numbered upwards to 140,000. Galdan now controlled all of Mongolia and he stood poised to attack the Manchus themselves. In September of 1688 the Bogdo Gegen made his first appeal to Kang Hsi. In a letter he asked for protection from Galdan, pasture lands where the Khalkhas could settle, and the eventually restoration of his monasteries in Mongolia. Kang Hsi said he would consider these requests on condition that the Khalkhas renounce their autonomy and become Manchu subjects. In 1690, as a show of good faith, Kang Hsi sent a large army equipped with canon into eastern Mongolia and defeated one of Galdan's armies at Ulanbudang. Galdan was far from beaten, but he was put on the defensive. Then in April of 1691 Kang Hsi convoked a great meeting at Dolonnor, in what is now Inner Mongolia. In attendance were the three Khalkha khans, the Bogdo Gegen, and some 550 Mongolian nobles. On May 29 Kang Hsi himself arrived at Dolonnor. He had come to officially accept the Khalka people as subjects of the Manchu empire. The Bogdo Gegen, who as a religious leader enjoyed immense influence among most of the Khalka khans and nobles, became the spokesman for the Mongols. He had concluded earlier that in their struggle with the Jungarians the Khalkhas had only two choices-submit and seek aid from either the Manchus or from the Russians who by now occupied all of Siberia north of Mongolia. He chose the Manchus, he said, because they were sympathetic to Buddhism, while the Russians were Christians, and because the culture, language, and dress of the Manchus were similar to that of the Mongolians. In return for their subjugation Kang Hsi promised to rout Galdan from Mongolia and allow the Khalkhas to return to their homeland. Galdan's fortunes soon faded. He was faced with a rebellion in his own ranks by his nephew Tsevang Rabdan and by a series of offensives by the Manchus. Kang Hsi personally led a three-pronged attack into Mongolia in 1696. One of his generals finally caught up with Galdan's army and inflicted massive casualties. Galdan himself escaped with a small band of followers to the Altai Mountains. The following year came news of his suicide. The Western Mongols would continue to harry the Manchus until 1757, but their dream of a pan-Mongolian empire was dead. By 1700 the Khalkhas began moving back into Mongolia, but as Manchu subjects. They would remain so until 1911. The great Dolonnor convention of 1691 at which the Khalkha khans accepted the suzerainty of the Manchus was a turning point in the life of Zanabazar, the Bogdo Gegen. In appreciation for his role in bringing the Khalkha Mongols under the suzerainty of the Ch'ing Dynasty Kang Hsi officially recognized the Bogdo Gegen as the highest religious authority in Mongolia and also as the highest ranking of all Mongolian dignitaries, including the khans and other nobles. Thus Zanabazar became the de facto head of the country, while remaining, of course, under the authority of Kang Hsi, the Ch'ing emperor. Despite-or perhaps because of-his leadership role Zanabazar did not immediately return to Mongolia. From Dolonnor the Bogdo Gegen went directly to Beijing and remained in China for the next eight years, until the spring of 1699. It is not clear from the record if Zanabazar went to China on his own accord, was invited by Kang Hsi, or was indeed ordered to the capital and held there where the Manchu ruler could keep a close eye on him. Whatever the original relationship between the Bogdo Gegen and the Emperor it took a new turn in 1693 when Kang Hsi fell seriously ill. After a prayer service by the Bogdo Gegen Kang Hsi became visibly better and soon recovered completely. "This occurrence," says Pozdneev in his translation of the Bogdo Gegen's life, "was proclaimed a miracle and served, it is said, as a basic motive for effecting a rapprochement between the Bogdo Khan [Kang Hsi] and the hutukhtu [Bogdo Gegen]. From that time on the Bogdo Khan began constantly to invite the hutukhtu to visit him, brought him closer to the palace, and loved to converse with him about the most diverse subjects." In the winter the Bogdo Gegen lived close by Kang Hsi in Beijing and in the summer he accompanied him to the emperor's summer palace in Jehol. They went on many tours of the countryside together and in 1697 the Bogdo Gegen went out to meet Kang Hsi on his return from his successful campaign against Galdan and accompanied him back to Beijing. They frequented Buddhist temples together (at one they caused a stir by sitting side-by-side on a carpet; theoretically, no one was supposed to sit at the same level as the emperor) and in the summer of 1698 made a pilgrimage to the sacred mountain of Wu-t'ai-shan in Shansi province, believed to be the place where the boddhisattva Manjushri-whom the Bogdo Gegen venerated-expounded the teachings of Buddha. Kang prepared a memorial stating that he "had not met a higher spiritual personage" than the Bogdo Gegen, who eventually became revered throughout China for his holiness and supposedly miraculous powers. Even Kang Hsi's senior wife Huang-t'ai-hou was not immune to the Bogdo Gegen's allure. Seeing him from the window of her apartment she told her husband, "Your hutukhtu is as beautiful as a bright moon on a night of a full moon; can't I invite him to my half [of the palace] and hear the sacred teaching from him?"4 The Bogdo Gegen gave a sermon to Huang-t'ai-hou and her retinue and in return they gave him a garland and a mantle embroidered with pearls. Of course there were dissenters. Courtiers in the emperor's court who were jealous of the Bogdo Gegen's close relationship with Kang Hsi referred to him as a "stinking Mongol." In early 1699 the Bogdo Gegen went back to Mongolia to perform the funeral services for his older brother but was back in Jehol by the summer of the same year, and that winter he moved on to Beijing. In 1701 he went back again to oversee the restoration of Erdene Zuu monastery, which had been razed by the Jungarians, but soon returned again to China. Some time later, in exactly what year it is not clear, but prior to 1706, the Bogdo Gegen went back to Mongolia to stay. His accompanying caravan was so long he had to ask for the emperor's assistance in getting it out of Beijing. All other traffic through the An-ting-men Gate was stopped and for three days and three nights camels laden with gifts he had received from Kang Hsi and other admirers passed through in single file. At their first stop outside the Great Wall the Bogdo Gegen and his entourage went to make offerings at the hill of Öndür-tologoi. According to legend, out of the north suddenly appeared five majestic looking men riding on wild deer. They were dressed in panther skin robes and boots and carried bows and arrows. Prostrating themselves at the feet of the Bogdo Gegen they declared that they had come to welcome him back to Mongolia. Asked by his retainers who these mysterious personages were, the Bogdo Gegen replied that they were the Spirit Rulers of the Northern Lands, and particularly of the Altai, Khangai, Khentii, and other mountains of Mongolia. Upon arriving back in Mongolia the Bogdo Gegen set out on a ambitious campaign of restoring damaged monasteries and building new ones, developing new styles of temple architecture, instituting new religious ceremonies, and even designing new attire for lamas. By 1710 the Jungarians under Tsevang Rabdan were again rampaging, and in the following years the Bogdo Gegen was involved in diplomatic efforts to halt their raids on Tibet and the Khalkha Mongols. And so went the years. Then in 1722 the great Kang Hsi died. The Bogdo Gegen, who was then almost ninety, immediately set out for Beijing to pay his respects to the remains of the Manchu emperor. What happened after he arrived is somewhat of a mystery. We do know from his biography that on the fourteenth day of the first moon of 1723 he died at the Shar Temple in the capital. His biography gives no reason for his death (he was of course a very old man and had just made an extremely strenuous journey), but to this day a belief exists among many Mongolians that he was murdered by the Manchus. At least half a dozen Mongolians, when discussing Zanabazar with me, expressed just this opinion. This accusation was also aired in print as late as 1995 in the book Undur Geghen Zanabazar by Zh. Choinkhor, which was published under the auspices of unesco. According to Choinkhor, Kang Hsi's son and successor Yung Cheng had Zanabazar assassinated because he wanted to eliminate anyone who had been close to his father and thus might question his own power. Regardless of how he died, Zanabazar's emanations were soon reported in Mongolia. "They relate that, on the day of his death, there was a five-colored rainbow stretching above his palace in Urga, and on the hutukhtu's throne a clear light shone for a long time . . . ", says Pozdneev. The body was embalmed and put on display for several months. Yung Cheng, whatever his motives might have been, bestowed on the deceased Bogdo Gegen the title of "Enlightener of the Faith" and awarded him posthumously a gold seal. Yung Cheng also stated, "The hutukhtu enjoyed the excellent love of my deceased regal father and extraordinary honors . . . The hutukhtu was an extraordinary man, and I am setting forth personally, for the sake of expressing respect to him, in order to present a khadak [prayer scarf] at his grave and to perform libations with tea."6 Later that year the Bogdo Gegen's body was taken back to Mongolia in a large caravan accompanied by an escort of honor sent by Yung Cheng. According to one account Kang Hsi had decreed before his death that 100,000 taels of silver be used to build a monastery which would serve as a repository for the Bogdo Gegen's remains. It's unclear whether Yung Cheng's attentions to the deceased Bogdo Gegen were guided by true devotion, a guilty conscience, or utter cynicism, but we do know that in 1728 Yung Cheng allotted this money from the state treasury for the building of Amarbayasgalant Monastery. When we bang on the monastery door it opens slightly, and we allow ourselves into a grassy courtyard. Directly ahead is a small temple, which is now locked. On each side of the temple are two tall posts resembling telephone poles. According to tradition Amar and Bayasgalant, the two Mongolians after whom the monastery is named, are buried beneath these poles. Pozdneev relates that the Manchu emperor Yung Cheng sent a team of geomancers to Mongolia to search out a propitious location for the monastery to house the remains of the first Bogdo Gegen. They searched far and wide but were finally drawn to the foot of Mount Bürün-Khaan. Here they found a little boy and girl playing together. When asked their names the boy said "Amar" (amar = happiness, peacefulness) and the girl "Bayasgalant" (bayasgalant = joy, pleasure, happiness). This was deemed auspicious, and it was decided to build the monastery on this spot and call it Amarbayasgalant. When Amar and Bayasgalant eventually died they were buried here in this courtyard, at least according to legend. On either side of the poles are two wooden pavilions. One, according to Pozdneev, housed a "beater" used to call the lamas to their services. The beater is now missing. The pavilion to the right housed a bell presented to the monastery by the emperor Yung Cheng. An elaborately embossed bell almost three feet high, now rusted, cracked, and with two big holes in one side, leans against a nearby stone pillar. Presumably this is the same bell. The main gateway to the second court yard is actually a temple devoted to the Four Maharajas, a standard feature in Lamaist monasteries. This is locked, but off to the left is a small door through the wall separating the courtyards. In the next courtyard a short staircase leads to a square in the middle of the courtyard occupied by the big main temple of the monastery. It occurs to me that both in layout and architectural design this monastery resembles a smaller version of the Yonghegong (Lama) Monastery in Beijing which I had once visited. Perhaps this is not surprising, since the Yonghegong Monastery was originally the home of Yung Cheng before he became emperor in 1723. Also, the system of courtyards and elevated squares connected by stone steps found in the Forbidden Palace in Beijing, where both Yung Cheng and his father Kang Hsi lived, is replicated here, although of course on an infinitesimally smaller scale. In front of the main temple, which is now locked, stand two more wooden pavilions. In each are large slabs of stone inscribed with old-style Mongolian writing in vertical columns. These obelisks, presented to the monastery by Ch'ien Lung, Yung Cheng's son, in 1737, the year construction was completed, record a short account the monastery's founding. (Very similar pavilions and inscribed stones are also found at the Yonghegong Monastery in Beijing.) Batbayar and Shandas's mother examine the engraved writing closely but claim they can't make out a thing. I pull out a xeroxed copy of the translation made by Pozdneev and read it to them. Batbayar is flabbergasted that over a century ago there was a Russian man who could translate Old Mongolian into the Russian language, that this Russian version would later be translated into English, and that now we are standing here listening to Shandas translate this English version back into Mongolian. The inscription reads, in part, "In the first year of the rule of Ch'ien Lung, the monastery was completed and I, [Ch'ien Lung], decreeing the name of Amur-bayasqulangtu for the monastery, bestowed upon it an inscription from my own hand, calling it the 'foundation of the virtue of the worlds which are as many as the grains of sand in the Ganges.' Assenting later to the requests of the officials in charge of the business of construction, I commanded that an obelisk be erected and that it be engraved with an inscription setting forth all the circumstances attending this work." The message from Ch'ien Lung continues: "As I will think, all men born by heaven possess one eternal and true quality. This true quality does not know rich or poor, does not make distinction by external appearance and surfaces . . . The Yellow Faith [Lamaism, in particular the Gelugpa sect to which Zanabazar belonged] is widespread in the northern countries . . . and there is no one who would not want to confess it with true devotion. The essence of its teachings are the principles by which evil vices are to be corrected and beneficial virtues are followed . . . My royal forefathers graciously showered the foreign aimaks with their favors and gave prosperity to all lands. Hence vast multitudes of peoples have been entirely happy, and works of every sort are in plenty and abundance. The superiors of the temple must exhort and guide all living creatures, bring them tidings of the true virtues, and urge them to strive unanimously for illumination and decorum, in order that all separate individuals and families may enjoy peace and tranquillity. Only then will they duly appreciate the lofty purposes with which my royal parent gave his favors and benefits . . . " Behind the main temple are three doors leading to the third courtyard, which contains five temples. In the middle is the temple of Dzu, which in Pozdneev's day contained a large statue of the Buddha Shakyamuni. It is unlocked and now contains nothing but boards and other building materials. To its left is a small wooden temple which once contained the remains of the fourth Bogdo Gegen, and to the left of this is the temple of Manla, both now locked. To the right of the middle temple is the temple which Pozdneev says contains the sharil of the Zanabazar, the first Bogdo Gegen, and to the right of this is the temple of Ayusha. Both these are locked also. Were the remains of the first and fourth Bogdo Gegens still here at Amarbayasgalant? No one in Ulaan Baatar could tell me for sure-I got various conflicting answers-and to find out is one of the main reasons I have come here. I try to peek through the wooden latticework covering the window of the Zanabazar temple but can see nothing. The others are content to rest while I go to look at the fourth and last courtyard. Here are also five buildings. The one in the middle had a unique white tile roof, according to Pozdneev, and it was here that the Bogdo Gegens stayed when they visited Amarbayasgalant. The tiles are gone and the roof is now nondescript wood, although there appears to be some restoration work going on. The temples on either side of the middle building are locked. When I return to the third courtyard my companions are talking to a red-robed young lama perhaps in his middle twenties. To my relief he doesn't seem to object to us being here when there is no one else around. I ask him through Shandas if the sharils of the two Bogdo Gegens are still in the temples here in this courtyard. He ponders this question with pursed lips for awhile, then says he's not sure about the remains of the fourth Bogdo Gegen, but he thinks, is pretty sure, that the sharil of the first Bogdo Gegen is still here. There's a man in the small settlement that knows everything about the monastery. We should talk to him, the lama says. In response to our inquiries he also tells us that there is a woman in the settlement who rents out small cabins to pilgrims and other visitors to Amarbayasgalant. He suggests we stay in one of them and he'll send the knowledgeable man to see us. We take the jeep over to the village and find the woman. One of her cabins is in use-two foreigners, a man and a woman she says-but the other one is available. It's very cozy with ger-style furniture, a wood stove, and curtains made from the same red material the lamas use for their robes. There's even electricity, but no running water. There's no outhouse either, but there's a big pasture right behind the cabin. I had planned to stay in my tent but now it's clear we can stay in this cabin. The price is eight dollars a night, which isn't cheap-I could get a decent hotel room in Ulaan Baatar for the same price-and the women insists on being paid in dollars. I don't have any dollars, only tögrögs. The woman is surprisingly adamant and says sorry, no dollars no cabin. This gets Shandas's mother riled. After a five minute argument the woman stalks off clutching 6400 tögrögs. While we're tucking into our picnic dinner-sliced ham, sausage, bread, tomatoes, cucumbers, hot tea-the guests in the cabin next door appear, an Israeli couple in their late twenties. The man works for a mining company in Ulaan Baatar and he has borrowed one of their Russian jeeps for a weekend jaunt into the countryside. They arrived this morning and hope to leave at noon tomorrow, but at the moment they seem to be having mechanical trouble with their jeep. Our driver with Shandas in tow as translator goes to take a look at the problem. I walk back alone to the monastery for a last look before the sun sets. The main part of Amarbayasgalant Monastery, consisting of the four interconnected courtyards and surrounding brick wall, was built by command of the Manchu emperor. In the 1890s there were also numerous temples outside of the monastery which were built with donations from the Mongols themselves. One of them contained a huge statue of Maitreya, the coming Buddha, which Pozdneev claimed was "sixty armspans" in height (the usually pedantically precise Pozdneev is a bit vague here about what constitutes an "armspan"). All these temples and whatever they contained, including the enormous Maitreya, are gone now, destroyed by the communists in the 1930s. Around the main monastery and its adjacent complexes of temples were six residential precincts which housed lamas belonging to each of the monastery's six aimags, or sections. In the 1890s there were a total of over 500 log cabins and gers in these suburbs, most in courtyards enclosed by log palisades. Now there is only the small huddle of cabins, shacks, and gers where we are encamped. In addition to the main gate to the monastery, which as in all monasteries in Mongolia opens to the south, there are two small doors in the east and west walls opening into the second courtyard. I enter the door in the west wall. The grounds are again deserted except for big flocks of pigeons. These are obviously a nuisance. The temples are whitewashed with their droppings, and chicken wire has been draped over the elaborately carved wooden decorations under the eaves of the temple roofs to keep them from nesting there. I head back to the third courtyard for a closer look at the temple which supposedly houses Zanabazar's remains. Pozdneev reports that in the 1890s services were held over the remains of the first and the fourth Bogdo Gegens each day at five in the morning and again between eight and nine in the evening. "To officiate at these services," he adds, "five distinguished and most honored lamas are appointed in turn, whereas all the other more humble inhabitants of the monastery do not even have the right to approach these holy objects and must confine themselves to worshipping before the door of the temple in which they are."8 It is now 8:30 p.m., so a hundred years ago one of these services would have been in progress right now. At the moment there is only a preternatural silence. Even the pigeons have ceasing cooing. Amarbayasgalant was believed to have two guardian spirits: one, Lha-ma, protected the monastery itself; and the other, Jamsaran, safeguarded the first Bogdo Gegen. Are they still hovering in the silence, or have they, like the crowds that once assembled here, long since departed? Next to the Ikh Khüree (Great Monastery) in what is now Ulaan Baatar, Amarbayasgalant was once probably the greatest pilgrimage site in Mongolia. Pozdneev relates that in 1892, "there were Mongols here from every Khalkha aimag without exception."9 Most of the subsequent Bogdo Gegens also made pilgrimages here. In 1797 the fourth Bogdo Gegen-known as the "Terrible Fourth" because of his ferocious devotion to his duties and his rages of temper at the less vigilant among his followers-visited here and was immediately disgruntled by the small number of sacred books he found. He ordered the lamas to start copying out new facsimiles at once. He also had the tomb of the first Bogdo Gegen opened and ordered that the finest available painter make a portrait from the mummified remains. Whether or not the so-called self-portrait of Zanabazar now found in the Zanabazar Fine Arts Museum is in fact this painting continues to perplex art historians. In 1798 the fourth Bogdo Gegen also ordered up statues of Zanabazar using the portrait as a model. It's also unclear if any of these are the three or more statues of Zanabazar now found in Ulaan Baatar museums. In 1813 the fourth Bogdo Gegen, aged thirty-eight, died of pneumonia while on a pilgrimage to Wu-t'ai-shan in China, the same mountain which Zanabazar and Kang Hsi had visited. In 1816 his remains were transferred here to Amarbayasgalant, where they still resided in Pozdneev's day. And now, according to the young lama we had talked to the day before, they are probably gone. Not all of the subsequent Bogdo Gegens lived up to the high standards set by Zanabazar and the Terrible Fourth. The notoriously profligate seventh Bogdo Gegen, known for his drinking bouts and frolics with prostitutes, both male and female, visited the monastery in 1867. He stayed for two months, apparently using this opportunity to engage in bacchanalian revelries far from the eyes of monastic and civil authorities in Ikh Khüree. The eighth and last Bogdo Gegen came to the monastery in 1889 on an official trip sanctioned by the Manchu Emperor. Apart from performing his religious duties, he too apparently found time for indulging his legendarily catholic appetites. He had such an enjoyable interlude that he returned twice the following year, in 1890, both times without the permission of the Manchu government, which was strictly against the rules. According to Pozdneev, who visited two years later and picked up the story from scandalized locals, "[the Bogdo Gegen] was surrounded by six or seven young lamas who . . . were distinguished only by their inclination and ability to carouse." There would be little carousing tonight. It was dark when I let myself out of the side door of the empty, silent monastery. Back at the shack Shandas's mother was already sacked out. Shandas was in his bunk reading month-old newspapers someone had left behind. Only our driver had gone out to see what diversions might be available in the nearby gers and cabins. I went straight to bed. Next morning the sun rises over the ridges to the left of Amarbayasgalant at exactly 6:53. I had sneaked out of our quarters at the first hint of light and climbed to a conspicuous ovoo on the top of a high barren hill behind the monastery. To the southeast stretches the wide verdant valley of the Iben River. Directly below, in front of the rectangular monastery complex, the Iben river doglegs to the north-northwest before disappearing among encroaching ridges decked with larch. Directly behind me looms Mount Bürün-Khaan, forested nearly to its top. Yung Cheng's geomancers had picked well; it's a vista which seems to inspire meditations. I sit for an hour, until the last shadows fade from the valley, then slowly walk back down to my quarters. Shandas and his mother have tea ready-our driver is still asleep in the back seat of his jeep-and we while we're breakfasting a young man appears and informs us that man who supposedly knows everything about the monastery has agreed to meet us at 10:00. This man does appear at ten sharp. Over six feet tall, lean, with finely chiseled facial features and close-cropped hair showing a hint of gray, he has a look and bearing which can only be described as aristocratic. He listens to Shandas intently and answers in what even I can tell are carefully chosen, well-modulated words. He would have come to see us last night, he says, but he had glued some leather together for a new saddle and couldn't leave until the glue had set. He says that he himself had once been a lama but had since rejoined the secular world. Given his age he would have had to have been a lama during the communist era, but when I try to question him about this he merely shrugs and suggests we go look at the monastery. There were from 2000 to 3000 lamas here at Amarbayasgalant during its peak years, he relates as we walk over to the main gate, and perhaps forty temples in all, counting the ones outside the main compound which were later destroyed. That was just the main monastery. In the Iben Valley downstream from here there were over two hundred additional temples representing all four provinces of old Mongolia-the aimags of the Tüsheet, Zasagt, Setsen, and Sain-Noyon khans-and served by perhaps 8000 or more lamas. Why, I wondered, did this relatively remote corner of Mongolia became such an important religious center? What differentiated it from any number of other propitious sites around the country? Choijiljav says that of course the remains of the first Bogdo Gegen were kept here, but I interrupt and ask why then did the Manchus pick this spot to keep his remains? Why not somewhere closer to China, instead of here, less than a hundred miles from the Russian border? With pursed lips Choijiljav considers this question for awhile. "We only know that in the 1720s this was thought to be an auspicious location. Why it was thought to be so we can't say today," he finally allows. He does know what happened in 1937 however. One day seventeen large army trucks manned by both Mongolian and Soviet Russian troops pulled up in front of the monastery. The soldiers ransacked the temples and hauled away seventeen truck loads of rare books and scriptures, thangkas, statues, and other art work. They were taken behind the mountains to the right of the monastery and burnt in a huge bonfire. For days huge plumes of black smoke roiled from the fire. Some lamas and local people had been expecting the arrival of the troops and had hidden away some of the more valuable books and statues but the vast majority were lost. In the settlement there is an old lama, now eighty-two years old, who witnessed the destruction of the monastery, reports Choijiljav. Normally it would have been possible to talk to this man, but he has been very sick for the last ten days and it's uncertain when, or indeed if, he will get better. Either during the first attack on the monastery or sometime shortly thereafter, says Choijiljav, the remains of the first and fourth Bogdo Gegens were taken away and presumably burnt. Wait a minute, I say, a lama we talked to yesterday said that he thought the remains of Zanabazar were still in his temple. "Oh that guy," says Choijiljav, "he is Zanabazar's grandson and he doesn't . . ." Interrupting Shandas's translation I blurt out, "Zanabazar's grandson?! I didn't know Zanabazar had children, and if he did how could this be his grandson? Zanabazar died in 1723!" Choijiljav and Shandas have a lengthy side-bar. "Well, you know," says Shandas finally, "not just grandson, but, how do you say, great, many greats grandson?" Is Choijiljav saying that the young lama is an actual descendant of Zanabazar? I pressed. Choijiljav is indeed saying this. Also, this young man's father lives in Ulaan Baatar and works at the Ulaan Baatar Hotel. It's fairly common knowledge that he is a descendant of Zanabazar. I had never read anything about Zanabazar having children, although of course this is something which the largely hagiographic accounts of his life would have chosen to omit. Theoretically, the Bogdo Gegen was not supposed to be married, let alone siring children. So, I wondered further, was his consort, the one who reputedly died as a young woman, the mother of Zanabazar's child? "We know very little about this person, not even her name," says Choijiljav, "she is known only as the Girl Prince. One story is that the Manchus did not approve of her relationship with the first Bogdo Gegen and had her killed, but we don't know for sure. But we think Zanabazar's White and Green Taras, which you might have seen, are modeled after her. When she died she was cremated and her ashes were mixed in ink used to make sacred books. These books were once kept here at Amarbayasgalant, but it's not clear what happened to them. Perhaps they were destroyed, perhaps not." At the main monastery gate we stop for a moment beneath the plaque which announces "The Monastery of Amarbayasgalant, Built at Imperial Command." I say that I am bit surprised that this rather obvious symbol of Mongolia's subjugation by an "imperial" power survived the wrath of the communists. It didn't, according to Choijiljav. It is a finely executed replica based on old photos. That raises the question of why any of Amarbayasgalant survived. Hundreds of monasteries had been razed to the ground with hardly a stone remaining-for instance, the Ilagukan Monastery in the Ider valley, whose barely discernible traces I had stumbled across earlier. "We're not sure why," says Choijiljav, "As you know, a few places like the Choijin Lama Monastery and the Winter Palace and its temples in Ulaan Baatar were not destroyed. Perhaps they were considered historical or architectural monuments. It's hard to know what was going in people's minds in the 1930s. They were strange times." Restoration of the monastery began in 1990. In addition to funds from the United Nations a wealthy Tibetan now living in the United States has reportedly made large contributions. At least the exteriors of all the temples described by Pozdneev in 1892 have been refurbished. A work shop has been set up to make roofing tiles from the local clay which had been used originally, but no one has succeeded in duplicating the glazing process employed by the Chinese workmen who were brought here back in the 1720s and 30s. Choijiljav finds a chunk of one of the original tiles and holds it up for our inspection. For once he is less than totally lucid-or perhaps Shandas's translation is not up to the task-but from what I gather these are the so-called "two-color" tiles which were a unique feature of Amarbayasgalant. Up close they appear a lustrous olive-green, but if held at a certain angle an underglaze of bright yellow can be seen. Thus the roofs of the monastery buildings usually appeared green but at certain times during the day they glowed a brilliant yellow so incandescent that it frightened horses. People approaching the monastery at these times had to blindfold their mounts and walk them up the last mile or so. Choijiljav then holds up one of the new replica tiles and turns it in his hands. It is a dull green with no hint of yellow, clearly a product of a more prosaic age. We continue on to the main temple, where a service is now in progress. At present there are only about twenty-five lamas at the monastery. A large contingent of those usually in residence are currently making a lengthy pilgrimage in Switzerland, which has apparently become a redoubt of Tibetan Buddhism. The lama we had met the day before, the reputed descendant of Zanabazar, is sitting in a row of chanting lamas. In truth, he looks rather undistinguished. As if reading my mind Choijiljav says, "the lamas had big hopes for him, but unfortunately he is not so . . . ah, clever. It will do you no good to talk to him further." We pay one last visit to Zanabazar's now empty temple. I have not found his body as expected, but strangely enough I seem to have found one of his earthly descendants, perhaps the fruit of his relationship with the mysterious Girl Prince who became enshrined forever as the White Tara. Choijiljav says he is sorry, but he must get back to work on his saddle. He walks back with us to the shack where Batbayar is champing at the bit. He wants to get back to Erdenet by early evening. The jeep is loaded up and ready to go. Choijiljav waves to us as we drive away. Shandas's mother says, "So, now I have finally met the famous Choijiljav. You know, he is a well-known artist. For a long time he worked as a pattern designer at the carpet factory in Erdenet. His designs have won several national awards. It's true he was once a lama, but I hear that now he is married. They say he even has children. He's quite a guy." Back to Amarbayasgalant