The great conqueror, Jenghiz Khan, the son of sad, stern, severeMongolia, according to an old Mongolian legend "mounted to the topof Karasu Togol and with his eyes of an eagle looked to the westand the east. In the west he saw whole seas of human blood overwhich floated a bloody fog that blanketed all the horizon. Therehe could not discern his fate. But the gods ordered him to proceedto the west, leading with him all his warriors and Mongoliantribes. To the east he saw wealthy towns, shining temples, crowdsof happy people, gardens and fields of rich earth, all of whichpleased the great Mongol. He said to his sons: 'There in the westI shall be fire and sword, destroyer, avenging Fate; in the east Ishall come as the merciful, great builder, bringing happiness tothe people and to the land.'"Thus runs the legend. I found much of truth in it. I had passedover much of his road to the west and always identified it by theold tombs and the impertinent monuments of stone to the mercilessconqueror. I saw also a part of the eastern road of the hero, overwhich he traveled to China. Once when we were making a trip out ofUliassutai we stopped the night in Djirgalantu. The old host ofthe ourton, knowing me from my previous trip to Narabanchi,welcomed us very kindly and regaled us with stories during ourevening meal. Among other things he led us out of the yurta andpointed out a mountain peak brightly lighted by the full moon andrecounted to us the story of one of the sons of Jenghiz, afterwardsEmperor of China, Indo-China and Mongolia, who had been attractedby the beautiful scenery and grazing lands of Djirgalantu and hadfounded here a town. This was soon left without inhabitants, forthe Mongol is a nomad who cannot live in artificial cities. Theplain is his house and the world his town. For a time this townwitnessed battles between the Chinese and the troops of JenghizKhan but afterwards it was forgotten. At present there remainsonly a half-ruined tower, from which in the early days the heavyrocks were hurled down upon the heads of the enemy, and thedilapidated gate of Kublai, the grandson of Jenghiz Khan. Againstthe greenish sky drenched with the rays of the moon stood out thejagged line of the mountains and the black silhouette of the towerwith its loopholes, through which the alternate scudding clouds andlight flashed.
When our party left Uliassutai, we traveled on leisurely, makingthirty-five to fifty miles a day until we were within sixty milesof Zain Shabi, where I took leave of the others to go south to thisplace in order to keep my engagement with Colonel Kazagrandi. Thesun had just risen as my single Mongol guide and I without any packanimals began to ascend the low, timbered ridges, from the top ofwhich I caught the last glimpses of my companions disappearing downthe valley. I had no idea then of the many and almost fataldangers which I should have to pass through during this trip bymyself, which was destined to prove much longer than I hadanticipated. As we were crossing a small river with sandy shores,my Mongol guide told me how the Mongolians came there during thesummer to wash gold, in spite of the prohibitions of the Lamas.
The manner of working the placer was very primitive but the resultstestified clearly to the richness of these sands. The Mongol liesflat on the ground, brushes the sand aside with a feather and keepsblowing into the little excavation so formed. From time to time hewets his finger and picks up on it a small bit of grain gold or adiminutive nugget and drops these into a little bag hanging underhis chin. In such manner this primitive dredge wins about aquarter of an ounce or five dollars' worth of the yellow metal perday.
I determined to make the whole distance to Zain Shabi in a singleday. At the ourtons I hurried them through the catching andsaddling of the horses as fast as I could. At one of thesestations about twenty-five miles from the monastery the Mongolsgave me a wild horse, a big, strong white stallion. Just as I wasabout to mount him and had already touched my foot to the stirrup,he jumped and kicked me right on the leg which had been wounded inthe Ma-chu fight. The leg soon began to swell and ache. At sunsetI made out the first Russian and Chinese buildings and later themonastery at Zain. We dropped into the valley of a small streamwhich flowed along a mountain on whose peak were set white rocksforming the words of a Tibetan prayer. At the bottom of thismountain was a cemetery for the Lamas, that is, piles of bones anda pack of dogs. At last the monastery lay right below us, a commonsquare surrounded with wooden fences. In the middle rose a largetemple quite different from all those of western Mongolia, not inthe Chinese but in the Tibetan style of architecture, a whitebuilding with perpendicular walls and regular rows of windows inblack frames, with a roof of black tiles and with a most unusualdamp course laid between the stone walls and the roof timbers andmade of bundles of twigs from a Tibetan tree which never rots.
Another small quadrangle lay a little to the east and containedRussian buildings connected with the monastery by telephone.
That is the house of the Living God of Zain, the Mongolexplained, pointing to this smaller quadrangle. "He likes Russiancustoms and manners."To the north on a conical-shaped hill rose a tower that recalledthe Babylonian zikkurat. It was the temple where the ancient booksand manuscripts were kept and the broken ornaments and objects usedin the religious ceremonies together with the robes of deceasedHutuktus preserved. A sheer cliff rose behind this museum, whichit was impossible for one to climb. On the face of this werecarved images of the Lamaite gods, scattered about without anyspecial order. They were from one to two and a half metres high.
At night the monks lighted lamps before them, so that one could seethese images of the gods and goddesses from far away.
We entered the trading settlement. The streets were deserted andfrom the windows only women and children looked out. I stoppedwith a Russian firm whose other branches I had known throughout thecountry. Much to my astonishment they welcomed me as anacquaintance. It appeared that the Hutuktu of Narabanchi had sentword to all the monasteries that, whenever I should come, they mustall render me aid, inasmuch as I had saved the Narabanchi Monasteryand, by the clear signs of the divinations, I was an incarnateBuddha beloved of the Gods. This letter of this kindly disposedHutuktu helped me very much--perhaps I should even say more, thatit saved me from death. The hospitality of my hosts proved ofgreat and much needed assistance to me because my injured leg hadswelled and was aching severely. When I took off my boot, I foundmy foot all covered with blood and my old wound re-opened by theblow. A felcher was called to assist me with treatment andbandaging, so that I was able to walk again three days later.
I did not find Colonel Kazagrandi at Zain Shabi. After destroyingthe Chinese gamins who had killed the local Commandant, he hadreturned via Van Kure. The new Commandment handed me the letter ofKazagrandi, who very cordially asked me to visit him after I hadrested in Zain. A Mongolian document was enclosed in the lettergiving me the right to receive horses and carts from herd to herdby means of the "urga," which I shall later describe and whichopened for me an entirely new vista of Mongolian life and countrythat I should otherwise never have seen. The making of thisjourney of over two hundred miles was a very disagreeable task forme; but evidently Kazagrandi, whom I had never met, had seriousreasons for wishing this meeting.
At one o'clock the day after my arrival I was visited by the local"Very God," Gheghen Pandita Hutuktu. A more strange andextraordinary appearance of a god I could not imagine. He was ashort, thin young man of twenty or twenty-two years with quick,nervous movements and with an expressive face lighted anddominated, like the countenances of all the Mongol gods, by large,frightened eyes. He was dressed in a blue silk Russian uniformwith yellow epaulets with the sacred sign of Pandita Hutuktu, inblue silk trousers and high boots, all surmounted by a whiteAstrakhan cap with a yellow pointed top. At his girdle a revolverand sword were slung. I did not know quite what to think of thisdisguised god. He took a cup of tea from the host and began totalk with a mixture of Mongolian and Russian.
"Not far from my Kure is located the ancient monastery of ErdeniDzu, erected on the site of the ruins of Karakorum, the ancientcapital of Jenghiz Khan and afterwards frequently visited by KublaiKahn for sanctuary and rest after his labors as Emperor of China,India, Persia, Afghanistan, Mongolia and half of Europe. Now onlyruins and tombs remain to mark this former 'Garden of BeatificDays.' The pious monks of Baroun Kure found in the undergroundchambers of the ruins manuscripts that were much older than ErdeniDzu itself. In these my Maramba Meetchik-Atak found the predictionthat the Hutuktu of Zain who should carry the title of 'Pandita,' should be but twenty-one years of age, be born in the heart of thelands of Jenghiz Khan and have on his chest the natural sign of theswastika--such Hutuktu would be honored by the people in the daysof a great war and trouble, would begin the fight with the servantsof Red evil and would conquer them and bring order into theuniverse, celebrating this happy day in the city with white templesand with the songs of ten thousand bells. It is I, PanditaHutuktu! The signs and symbols have met in me. I shall destroythe Bolsheviki, the bad 'servants of the Red evil,' and in Moscow Ishall rest from my glorious and great work. Therefore I have askedColonel Kazagrandi to enlist me in the troops of Baron Ungern andgive me the chance to fight. The Lamas seek to prevent me fromgoing but who is the god here?He very sternly stamped his foot, while the Lamas and guard whoaccompanied him reverently bowed their heads.
"As he left he presented me with a hatyk and, rummaging through mysaddle bags, I found a single article that might be consideredworthy as a gift for a Hutuktu, a small bottle of osmiridium, thisrare, natural concomitant of platinum.
This is the most stable and hardest of metals, I said. "Let itbe the sign of your glory and strength, Hutuktu!"The Pandita thanked me and invited me to visit him. When I hadrecovered a little, I went to his house, which was arranged inEuropean style: electric lights, push bells and telephone. Hefeasted me with wine and sweets and introduced me to two veryinteresting personages, one an old Tibetan surgeon with a facedeeply pitted by smallpox, a heavy thick nose and crossed eyes. Hewas a peculiar surgeon, consecrated in Tibet. His duties consistedin treating and curing Hutuktus when they were ill and . . . inpoisoning them when they became too independent or extravagant orwhen their policies were not in accord with the wishes of theCouncil of Lamas of the Living Buddha or the Dalai Lama. By nowPandita Hutuktu probably rests in eternal peace on the top of somesacred mountain, sent thither by the solicitude of hisextraordinary court physician. The martial spirit of PanditaHutuktu was very unwelcome to the Council of Lamas, who protestedagainst the adventuresomeness of this "Living God."Pandita liked wine and cards. One day when he was in the companyof Russians and dressed in a European suit, some Lamas came runningto announce that divine service had begun and that the "Living God"must take his place on the altar to be prayed to but he had goneout from his abode and was playing cards! Without any confusionPandita drew his red mantle of the Hutuktu over his European coatand long grey trousers and allowed the shocked Lamas to carry their"God" away in his palanquin.
Besides the surgeon-poisoner I met at the Hutuktu's a lad ofthirteen years, whose youthfulness, red robe and cropped hair ledme to suppose he was a Bandi or student servant in the home of theHutuktu; but it turned out otherwise. This boy was the firstHubilgan, also an incarnate Buddha, an artful teller of fortunesand the successor of Pandita Hutuktu. He was drunk all the timeand a great card player, always making side-splitting jokes thatgreatly offended the Lamas.
That same evening I made the acquaintance of the second Hubilganwho called on me, the real administrator of Zain Shabi, which is anindependent dominion subject directly to the Living Buddha. ThisHubilgan was a serious and ascetic man of thirty-two, well educatedand deeply learned in Mongol lore. He knew Russian and read muchin that language, being interested chiefly in the life and storiesof other peoples. He had a high respect for the creative genius ofthe American people and said to me:
When you go to America, ask the Americans to come to us and leadus out from the darkness that surrounds us. The Chinese andRussians will lead us to destruction and only the Americans cansave us.It is a deep satisfaction for me to carry out the request of thisinfluential Mongol, Hubilgan, and to urge his appeal to theAmerican people. Will you not save this honest, uncorrupted butdark, deceived and oppressed people? They should not be allowed toperish, for within their souls they carry a great store of strongmoral forces. Make of them a cultured people, believing in theverity of humankind; teach them to use the wealth of their land;and the ancient people of Jenghiz Khan will ever be your faithfulfriends.
When I had sufficiently recovered, the Hutuktu invited me to travelwith him to Erdeni Dzu, to which I willingly agreed. On thefollowing morning a light and comfortable carriage was brought forme. Our trip lasted five days, during which we visited Erdeni Dzu,Karakorum, Hoto-Zaidam and Hara-Balgasun. All these are the ruinsof monasteries and cities erected by Jenghiz Khan and hissuccessors, Ugadai Khan and Kublai in the thirteenth century. Nowonly the remnants of walls and towers remain, some large tombs andwhole books of legends and stories.
Look at these tombs! said the Hutuktu to me. "Here the son ofKhan Uyuk was buried. This young prince was bribed by the Chineseto kill his father but was frustrated in his attempt by his ownsister, who killed him in her watchful care of her old father, theEmperor and Khan. There is the tomb of Tsinilla, the belovedspouse of Khan Mangu. She left the capital of China to go to KharaBolgasun, where she fell in love with the brave shepherd Damcharen,who overtook the wind on his steed and who captured wild yaks andhorses with his bare hands. The enraged Khan ordered hisunfaithful wife strangled but afterwards buried her with imperialhonors and frequently came to her tomb to weep for his lost love.""And what happened to Damcharen?" I inquired.
The Hutuktu himself did not know; but his old servant, the realarchive of legends, answered:
With the aid of ferocious Chahar brigands he fought with China fora long time. It is, however, unknown how he died.Among the ruins the monks pray at certain fixed times and they alsosearch for sacred books and objects concealed or buried in thedebris. Recently they found here two Chinese rifles and two goldrings and big bundles of old manuscripts tied with leather thongs.
Why did this region attract the powerful emperors and Khans whoruled from the Pacific to the Adriatic? I asked myself. Certainlynot these mountains and valleys covered with larch and birch, notthese vast sands, receding lakes and barren rocks. It seems that Ifound the answer.
The great emperors, remembering the vision of Jenghiz Khan, soughthere new revelations and predictions of his miraculous, majesticdestiny, surrounded by the divine honors, obeisance and hate.
Where could they come into touch with the gods, the good and badspirits? Only there where they abode. All the district of Zainwith these ancient ruins is just such a place.
On this mountain only such men can ascend as are born of thedirect line of Jenghiz Khan, the Pandita explained to me. "Halfway up the ordinary man suffocates and dies, if he ventures to gofurther. Recently Mongolian hunters chased a pack of wolves upthis mountain and, when they came to this part of the mountainside,they all perished. There on the slopes of the mountain lie thebones of eagles, big horned sheep and the kabarga antelope, lightand swift as the wind. There dwells the bad demon who possessesthe book of human destinies.""This is the answer," I thought.
In the Western Caucasus I once saw a mountain between Soukhoum Kaleand Tuopsei where wolves, eagles and wild goats also perish, andwhere men would likewise perish if they did not go on horsebackthrough this zone. There the earth breathes out carbonic acid gasthrough holes in the mountainside, killing all animal life. Thegas clings to the earth in a layer about half a metre thick. Menon horseback pass above this and the horses always hold their headsway up and snuff and whinny in fear until they cross the dangerouszone. Here on the top of this mountain where the bad demon perusesthe book of human destinies is the same phenomenon, and I realizedthe sacred fear of the Mongols as well as the stern attraction ofthis place for the tall, almost gigantic descendants of JenghizKhan. Their heads tower above the layers of poisonous gas, so thatthey can reach the top of this mysterious and terrible mountain.
Also it is possible to explain this phenomenon geologically,because here in this region is the southern edge of the coaldeposits which are the source of carbonic acid and swamp gases.
Not far from the ruins in the lands of Hun Doptchin Djamtso thereis a small lake which sometimes burns with a red flame, terrifyingthe Mongols and herds of horses. Naturally this lake is rich withlegends. Here a meteor formerly fell and sank far into the earth.
In the hole this lake appeared. Now, it seems, the inhabitants ofthe subterranean passages, semi-man and semi-demon, are laboring toextract this "stone of the sky" from its deep bed and it is settingthe water on fire as it rises and falls back in spite of theirevery effort. I did not see the lake myself but a Russian colonisttold me that it may be petroleum on the lake that is fired eitherfrom the campfires of the shepherds or by the blazing rays of thesun.
At any rate all this makes it very easy to understand theattractions for the great Mongol potentates. The strongestimpression was produced upon me by Karakorum, the place where thecruel and wise Jenghiz Khan lived and laid his gigantic plans foroverrunning all the west with blood and for covering the east witha glory never before seen. Two Karakorums were erected by JenghizKhan, one here near Tatsa Gol on the Caravan Road and the other inPamir, where the sad warriors buried the greatest of humanconquerors in the mausoleum built by five hundred captives who weresacrificed to the spirit of the deceased when their work was done.
The warlike Pandita Hutuktu prayed on the ruins where the shades ofthese potentates who had ruled half the world wandered, and hissoul longed for the chimerical exploits and for the glory ofJenghiz and Tamerlane.
On the return journey we were invited not far from Zain to visit avery rich Mongol by the way. He had already prepared the yurtassuitable for Princes, ornamented with rich carpets and silkdraperies. The Hutuktu accepted. We arranged ourselves on thesoft pillows in the yurtas as the Hutuktu blessed the Mongol,touching his head with his holy hand, and received the hatyks. Thehost then had a whole sheep brought in to us, boiled in a hugevessel. The Hutuktu carved off one hind leg and offered it to me,while he reserved the other for himself. After this he gave alarge piece of meat to the smallest son of the host, which was thesign that Pandita Hutuktu invited all to begin the feast. In atrice the sheep was entirely carved or torn up and in the hands ofthe banqueters. When the Hutuktu had thrown down by the brazierthe white bones without a trace of meat left on them, the host onhis knees withdrew from the fire a piece of sheepskin andceremoniously offered it on both his hands to the Hutuktu. Panditabegan to clean off the wool and ashes with his knife and, cuttingit into thin strips, fell to eating this really tasty course. Itis the covering from just above the breast bone and is called inMongolian tarach or "arrow." When a sheep is skinned, this smallsection is cut out and placed on the hot coals, where it is broiledvery slowly. Thus prepared it is considered the most dainty bit ofthe whole animal and is always presented to the guest of honor. Itis not permissible to divide it, such is the strength of the customand ceremony.
After dinner our host proposed a hunt for bighorns, a large herd ofwhich was known to graze in the mountains within less than a milefrom the yurtas. Horses with rich saddles and bridles were led up.
All the elaborate harness of the Hutuktu's mount was ornamentedwith red and yellow bits of cloth as a mark of his rank. Aboutfifty Mongol riders galloped behind us. When we left our horses,we were placed behind the rocks roughly three hundred paces apartand the Mongols began the encircling movement around the mountain.
After about half an hour I noticed way up among the rocks somethingflash and soon made out a fine bighorn jumping with tremendoussprings from rock to rock, and behind him a herd of some twenty oddhead leaping like lightning over the ground. I was vexed beyondwords when it appeared that the Mongols had made a mess of it andpushed the herd out to the side before having completed theircircle. But happily I was mistaken. Behind a rock right ahead ofthe herd a Mongol sprang up and waved his hands. Only the bigleader was not frightened and kept right on past the unarmed Mongolwhile all the rest of the herd swung suddenly round and rushedright down upon me. I opened fire and dropped two of them. TheHutuktu also brought down one as well as a musk antelope that cameunexpectedly from behind a rock hard by. The largest pair of hornsweighed about thirty pounds, but they were from a young sheep.
The day following our return to Zain Shabi, as I was feeling quiterecovered, I decided to go on to Van Kure. At my leave-taking fromthe Hutuktu I received a large hatyk from him together with warmestexpressions of thanks for the present I had given him on the firstday of our acquaintance.
It is a fine medicine! he exclaimed. "After our trip I feltquite exhausted but I took your medicine and am now quiterejuvenated. Many, many thanks!"The poor chap had swallowed my osmiridium. To be sure it could notharm him; but to have helped him was wonderful. Perhaps doctors inthe Occident may wish to try this new, harmless and very cheapremedy--only eight pounds of it in the whole world--and I merelyask that they leave me the patent rights for it for Mongolia,Barga, Sinkiang, Koko Nor and all the other lands of Central Asia.
An old Russian colonist went as guide for me. They gave me a bigbut light and comfortable cart hitched and drawn in a marvelousway. A straight pole four metres long was fastened athwart thefront of the shafts. On either side two riders took this poleacross their saddle pommels and galloped away with me across theplains. Behind us galloped four other riders with four extrahorses.
About twelve miles from Zain we saw from a ridge a snakelike lineof riders crossing the valley, which detachment we met half an hourlater on the shore of a deep, swampy stream. The group consistedof Mongols, Buriats and Tibetans armed with Russian rifles. At thehead of the column were two men, one of whom in a huge blackAstrakhan and black felt cape with red Caucasian cowl on hisshoulders blocked my road and, in a coarse, harsh voice, demandedof me: "Who are you, where are you from and where are you going?"I gave also a laconic answer. They then said that they were adetachment of troops from Baron Ungern under the command of CaptainVandaloff. "I am Captain Bezrodnoff, military judge."Suddenly he laughed loudly. His insolent, stupid face did notplease me and, bowing to the officers, I ordered my riders to move.
Oh no! he remonstrated, as he blocked the road again. "I cannotallow you to go farther. I want to have a long and seriousconversation with you and you will have to come back to Zain forit."I protested and called attention to the letter of ColonelKazagrandi, only to hear Bezrodnoff answer with coldness:
This letter is a matter of Colonel Kazagrandi's and to bring youback to Zain and talk with you is my affair. Now give me yourweapon.But I could not yield to this demand, even though death werethreatened.
Listen, I said. "Tell me frankly. Is yours really a detachmentfighting against the Boisheviki or is it a Red contingent?""No, I assure you!" replied the Buriat officer Vandaloff,approaching me. "We have already been fighting the Bolsheviki forthree years.""Then I cannot hand you my weapon," I calmly replied. "I broughtit from Soviet Siberia, have had many fights with this faithfulweapon and now I am to be disarmed by White officers! It is anoffence that I cannot allow."With these words I threw my rifle and my Mauser into the stream.
The officers were confused. Bezrodnoff turned red with anger.
I freed you and myself from humiliation, I explained.
Bezrodnoff in silence turned his horse, the whole detachment ofthree hundred men passed immediately before me and only the lasttwo riders stopped, ordered my Mongols to turn my cart round andthen fell in behind my little group. So I was arrested! One ofthe horsemen behind me was a Russian and he told me that Bezrodnoffcarried with him many death decrees. I was sure that mine wasamong them.
Stupid, very stupid! What was the use of fighting one's waythrough Red detachments, of being frozen and hungry, of almostperishing in Tibet only to die from a bullet of one of Bezrodnoff'sMongols? For such a pleasure it was not worth while to travel solong and so far! In every Siberian "Cheka" I could have had thisend so joyfully accorded me.
When we arrived at Zain Shabi, my luggage was examined andBezrodnoff began to question me in minutest detail about the eventsin Uliassutai. We talked about three hours, during which I triedto defend all the officers of Uliassutai, maintaining that one mustnot trust only the reports of Domojiroff. When our conversationwas finished, the Captain stood up and offered his apologies fordetaining me in my journey. Afterwards he presented me a fineMauser with silver mountings on the handle and said:
Your pride greatly pleased me. I beg you to receive this weaponas a memento of me.The following morning I set out anew from Zain Shabi, having in mypocket the laissez-passer of Bezrodnoff for his outposts.
Once more we traveled along the now known places, the mountain fromwhich I espied the detachment of Bezrodnoff, the stream into whichI had thrown my weapon, and soon all this lay behind us. At thefirst ourton we were disappointed because we did not find horsesthere. In the yurtas were only the host with two of his sons. Ishowed him my document and he exclaimed:
Noyon has the right of 'urga.' Horses will be brought very soon.He jumped into his saddle, took two of my Mongols with him,providing them and himself with long thin poles, four or fivemetres in length, and fitted at the end with a loop of rope, andgalloped away. My cart moved behind them. We left the road,crossed the plain for an hour and came upon a big herd of horsesgrazing there. The Mongol began to catch a quota of them for uswith his pole and noose or urga, when out of the mountains nearbycame galloping the owners of the herds. When the old Mongol showedmy papers to them, they submissively acquiesced and substitutedfour of their men for those who had come with me thus far. In thismanner the Mongols travel, not along the ourton or station road butdirectly from one herd to another, where the fresh horses arecaught and saddled and the new owners substituted for those of thelast herd. All the Mongols so effected by the right of urga try tofinish their task as rapidly as possible and gallop like mad forthe nearest herd in your general direction of travel to turn overtheir task to their neighbor. Any traveler having this right ofurga can catch horses himself and, if there are no owners, canforce the former ones to carry on and leave the animals in the nextherd he requisitions. But this happens very rarely because theMongol never likes to seek out his animals in another's herd, as italways gives so many chances for controversy.
It was from this custom, according to one explanation, that thetown of Urga took its name among outsiders. By the Mongolsthemselves it is always referred to as Ta Kure, "The GreatMonastery." The reason the Buriats and Russians, who were thefirst to trade into this region, called it Urga was because it wasthe principal destination of all the trading expeditions whichcrossed the plains by this old method or right of travel. A secondexplanation is that the town lies in a "loop" whose sides areformed by three mountain ridges, along one of which the River Tolaruns like the pole or stick of the familiar urga of the plains.
Thanks to this unique ticket of urga I crossed quite untraveledsections of Mongolia for about two hundred miles. It gave me thewelcome opportunity to observe the fauna of this part of thecountry. I saw many huge herds of Mongolian antelopes running fromfive to six thousand, many groups of bighorns, wapiti and kabargaantelopes. Sometimes small herds of wild horses and wild assesflashed as a vision on the horizon.
In one place I observed a big colony of marmots. All over an areaof several square miles their mounds were scattered with the holesleading down to their runways below, the dwellings of the marmot.
In and out among these mounds the greyish-yellow or brown animalsran in all sizes up to half that of an average dog. They ranheavily and the skin on their fat bodies moved as though it weretoo big for them. The marmots are splendid prospectors, alwaysdigging deep ditches, throwing out on the surface all the stones.
In many places I saw mounds the marmots had made from copper oreand farther north some from minerals containing wolfram andvanadium. Whenever the marmot is at the entrance of his hole, hesits up straight on his hind legs and looks like a bit of wood, asmall stump or a stone. As soon as he spies a rider in thedistance, he watches him with great curiosity and begins whistlingsharply. This curiosity of the marmots is taken advantage of bythe hunters, who sneak up to their holes flourishing streamers ofcloth on the tips of long poles. The whole attention of the smallanimals is concentrated on this small flag and only the bullet thattakes his life explains to him the reason for this previouslyunknown object.
I saw a very exciting picture as I passed through a marmot colonynear the Orkhon River. There were thousands of holes here so thatmy Mongols had to use all their skill to keep the horses frombreaking their legs in them. I noticed an eagle circling highoverhead. All of a sudden he dropped like a stone to the top of amound, where he sat motionless as a rock. The marmot in a fewminutes ran out of his hole to a neighbor's doorway. The eaglecalmly jumped down from the top and with one wing closed theentrance to the hole. The rodent heard the noise, turned back andrushed to the attack, trying to break through to his hole where hehad evidently left his family. The struggle began. The eaglefought with one free wing, one leg and his beak but did notwithdraw the bar to the entrance. The marmot jumped at therapacious bird with great boldness but soon fell from a blow on thehead. Only then the eagle withdrew his wing, approached themarmot, finished him off and with difficulty lifted him in histalons to carry him away to the mountains for a tasty luncheon.
In the more barren places with only occasional spears of grass inthe plain another species of rodent lives, called imouran, aboutthe size of a squirrel. They have a coat the same color as theprairie and, running about it like snakes, they collect the seedsthat are blown across by the wind and carry them down into theirdiminutive homes. The imouran has a truly faithful friend, theyellow lark of the prairie with a brown back and head. When hesees the imouran running across the plain, he settles on his back,flaps his wings in balance and rides well this swiftly gallopingmount, who gaily flourishes his long shaggy tail. The lark duringhis ride skilfully and quickly catches the parasites living on thebody of his friend, giving evidence of his enjoyment of his workwith a short agreeable song. The Mongols call the imouran "thesteed of the gay lark." The lark warns the imouran of the approachof eagles and hawks with three sharp whistles the moment he seesthe aerial brigand and takes refuge himself behind a stone or in asmall ditch. After this signal no imouran will stick his head outof his hole until the danger is past. Thus the gay lark and hissteed live in kindly neighborliness.
In other parts of Mongolia where there was very rich grass I sawanother type of rodent, which I had previously come across inUrianhai. It is a gigantic black prairie rat with a short tail andlives in colonies of from one to two hundred. He is interestingand unique as the most skilful farmer among the animals in hispreparation of his winter supply of fodder. During the weeks whenthe grass is most succulent he actually mows it down with swiftjerky swings of his head, cutting about twenty or thirty stalkswith his sharp long front teeth. Then he allows his grass to cureand later puts up his prepared hay in a most scientific manner.
First he makes a mound about a foot high. Through this he pushesdown into the ground four slanting stakes, converging toward themiddle of the pile, and binds them close over the surface of thehay with the longest strands of grass, leaving the ends protrudingenough for him to add another foot to the height of the pile, whenhe again binds the surface with more long strands--all this to keephis winter supply of food from blowing away over the prairie. Thisstock he always locates right at the door of his den to avoid longwinter hauls. The horses and camels are very fond of this smallfarmer's hay, because it is always made from the most nutritiousgrass. The haycocks are so strongly made that one can hardly kickthem to pieces.
Almost everywhere in Mongolia I met either single pairs or wholeflocks of the greyish-yellow prairie partridges, salga or"partridge swallow," so called because they have long sharp tailsresembling those of swallows and because their flight also is aclose copy of that of the swallow. These birds are very tame orfearless, allowing men to come within ten or fifteen paces of them;but, when they do break, they go high and fly long distanceswithout lighting, whistling all the time quite like swallows.
Their general markings are light grey and yellow, though the maleshave pretty chocolate spots on the backs and wings, while theirlegs and feet are heavily feathered.
My opportunity to make these observations came from travelingthrough unfrequented regions by the urga, which, however, had itscounterbalancing disadvantages. The Mongols carried me directlyand swiftly toward my destination, receiving with greatsatisfaction the presents of Chinese dollars which I gave them.
But after having made about five thousand miles on my Cossacksaddle that now lay behind me on the cart all covered with dustlike common merchandise, I rebelled against being wracked and tornby the rough riding of the cart as it was swung heedlessly overstones, hillocks and ditches by the wild horses with their equallywild riders, bounding and cracking and holding together onlythrough its tenacity of purpose in demonstrating the cosiness andattractiveness of a good Mongol equipage! All my bones began toache. Finally I groaned at every lunge and at last I suffered avery sharp attack of ischias or sciatica in my wounded leg. Atnight I could neither sleep, lie down nor sit with comfort andspent the whole night pacing up and down the plain, listening tothe loud snoring of the inhabitants of the yurta. At times I hadto fight the two huge black dogs which attacked me. The followingday I could endure the wracking only until noon and was then forcedto give up and lie down. The pain was unbearable. I could notmove my leg nor my back and finally fell into a high fever. Wewere forced to stop and rest. I swallowed all my stock of aspirinand quinine but without relief. Before me was a sleepless nightabout which I could not think without weakening fear. We hadstopped in the yurta for guests by the side of a small monastery.
My Mongols invited the Lama doctor to visit me, who gave me twovery bitter powders and assured me I should be able to continue inthe morning. I soon felt a stimulated palpitation of the heart,after which the pain became even sharper. Again I spent the nightwithout any sleep but when the sun arose the pain ceased instantlyand, after an hour, I ordered them to saddle me a horse, as I wasafraid to continue further in the cart.
While the Mongols were catching the horses, there came to my tentColonel N. N. Philipoff, who told me that he denied all theaccusations that he and his brother and Poletika were Bolshevikiand that Bezrodnoff allowed him to go to Van Kure to meet BaronUngern, who was expected there. Only Philipoff did not know thathis Mongol guide was armed with a bomb and that another Mongol hadbeen sent on ahead with a letter to Baron Ungern. He did not knowthat Poletika and his brothers were shot at the same time in ZainShabi. Philipoff was in a hurry and wanted to reach Van Kure thatday. I left an hour after him.
From this point we began traveling along the ourton road. In thisregion the Mongols had very poor and exhausted horses, because theywere forced continuously to supply mounts to the numerous envoys ofDaichin Van and of Colonel Kazagrandi. We were compelled to spendthe night at the last ourton before Van Kure, where a stout oldMongol and his son kept the station. After our supper he took theshoulder-blade of the sheep, which had been carefully scraped cleanof all the flesh, and, looking at me, placed this bone in the coalswith some incantations and said:
I want to tell your fortune. All my predictions come true.When the bone had been blackened he drew it out, blew off the ashesand began to scrutinize the surface very closely and to lookthrough it into the fire. He continued his examination for a longtime and then, with fear in his face, placed the bone back in thecoals.
What did you see? I asked, laughing.
Be silent! he whispered. "I made out horrible signs."He again took out the bone and began examining it all over, all thetime whispering prayers and making strange movements. In a verysolemn quiet voice he began his predictions.
Death in the form of a tall white man with red hair will standbehind you and will watch you long and close. You will feel it andwait but Death will withdraw. . . . Another white man will becomeyour friend. . . . Before the fourth day you will lose youracquaintances. They will die by a long knife. I already see thembeing eaten by the dogs. Beware of the man with a head like asaddle. He will strive for your death.For a long time after the fortune had been told we sat smoking anddrinking tea but still the old fellow looked at me only with fear.
Through my brain flashed the thought that thus must his companionsin prison look at one who is condemned to death.
The next morning we left the fortune teller before the sun was up,and, when we had made about fifteen miles, hove in sight of VanKure. I found Colonel Kazagrandi at his headquarters. He was aman of good family, an experienced engineer and a splendid officer,who had distinguished himself in the war at the defence of theisland of Moon in the Baltic and afterwards in the fight with theBolsheviki on the Volga. Colonel Kazagrandi offered me a bath in areal tub, which had its habitat in the house of the president ofthe local Chamber of Commerce. As I was in this house, a tallyoung captain entered. He had long curly red hair and an unusuallywhite face, though heavy and stolid, with large, steel-cold eyesand with beautiful, tender, almost girlish lips. But in his eyesthere was such cold cruelty that it was quite unpleasant to look athis otherwise fine face. When he left the room, our host told methat he was Captain Veseloffsky, the adjutant of General Rezukhin,who was fighting against the Bolsheviki in the north of Mongolia.
They had just that day arrived for a conference with Baron Ungern.
After luncheon Colonel Kazagrandi invited me to his yurta and begandiscussing events in western Mongolia, where the situation hadbecome very tense.
Do you know Dr. Gay? Kazagrandi asked me. "You know he helped meto form my detachment but Urga accuses him of being the agent ofthe Soviets."I made all the defences I could for Gay. He had helped me and hadbeen exonerated by Kolchak.
Yes, yes, and I justified Gay in such a manner, said the Colonel,"but Rezukhin, who has just arrived today, has brought letters ofGay's to the Bolsheviki which were seized in transit. By order ofBaron Ungern, Gay and his family have today been sent to theheadquarters of Rezukhin and I fear that they will not reach thisdestination.""Why?" I asked.
They will be executed on the road! answered Colonel Kazagrandi.
What are we to do? I responded. "Gay cannot be a Bolshevik,"because he is too well educated and too clever for it.""I don't know; I don't know!" murmured the Colonel with adespondent gesture. "Try to speak with Rezukhin."I decided to proceed at once to Rezukhin but just then ColonelPhilipoff entered and began talking about the errors being made inthe training of the soldiers. When I had donned my coat, anotherman came in. He was a small sized officer with an old greenCossack cap with a visor, a torn grey Mongol overcoat and with hisright hand in a black sling tied around his neck. It was GeneralRezukhin, to whom I was at once introduced. During theconversation the General very politely and very skilfully inquiredabout the lives of Philipoff and myself during the last threeyears, joking and laughing with discretion and modesty. When hesoon took his leave, I availed myself of the chance and went outwith him.
He listened very attentively and politely to me and afterwards, inhis quiet voice, said:
"Dr. Gay is the agent of the Soviets, disguised as a White in orderthe better to see, hear and know everything. We are surrounded byour enemies. The Russian people are demoralized and will undertakeany treachery for money. Such is Gay. Anyway, what is the use ofdiscussing him further? He and his family are no longer alive. Today my men cut them to pieces five kilometres from here.In consternation and fear I looked at the face of this small,dapper man with such soft voice and courteous manners. In his eyesI read such hate and tenacity that I understood at once thetrembling respect of all the officers whom I had seen in hispresence. Afterwards in Urga I learned more of this GeneralRezukhin distinguished by his absolute bravery and boundlesscruelty. He was the watchdog of Baron Ungern, ready to throwhimself into the fire and to spring at the throat of anyone hismaster might indicate.
"Only four days then had elapsed before "my acquaintances" died "bya long knife," so that one part of the prediction had been thusfulfilled. And now I have to await Death's threat to me. Thedelay was not long. Only two days later the Chief of the AsiaticDivision of Cavalry arrived--Baron Ungern von Sternberg.
"The terrible general, the Baron," arrived quite unexpectedly,unnoticed by the outposts of Colonel Kazagrandi. After a talk withKazagrandi the Baron invited Colonel N. N. Philipoff and me intohis presence. Colonel Kazagrandi brought the word to me. I wantedto go at once but was detained about half an hour by the Colonel,who then sped me with the words:
Now God help you! Go!It was a strange parting message, not reassuring and quiteenigmatical. I took my Mauser and also hid in the cuff of my coatmy cyanide of potassium. The Baron was quartered in the yurta ofthe military doctor. When I entered the court, Captain Veseloffskycame up to me. He had a Cossack sword and a revolver without itsholster beneath his girdle. He went into the yurta to report myarrival.
Come in, he said, as he emerged from the tent.
At the entrance my eyes were struck with the sight of a pool ofblood that had not yet had time to drain down into the ground--anominous greeting that seemed to carry the very voice of one justgone before me. I knocked.
Come in! was the answer in a high tenor. As I passed thethreshold, a figure in a red silk Mongolian coat rushed at me withthe spring of a tiger, grabbed and shook my hand as though inflight across my path and then fell prone on the bed at the side ofthe tent.
Tell me who you are! Hereabouts are many spies and agitators, hecried out in an hysterical voice, as he fixed his eyes upon me. Inone moment I perceived his appearance and psychology. A small headon wide shoulders; blonde hair in disorder; a reddish bristlingmoustache; a skinny, exhausted face, like those on the oldByzantine ikons. Then everything else faded from view save a big,protruding forehead overhanging steely sharp eyes. These eyes werefixed upon me like those of an animal from a cave. My observationslasted for but a flash but I understood that before me was a verydangerous man ready for an instant spring into irrevocable action.
Though the danger was evident, I felt the deepest offence.
Sit down, he snapped out in a hissing voice, as he pointed to achair and impatiently pulled at his moustache. I felt my angerrising through my whole body and I said to him without taking thechair:
You have allowed yourself to offend me, Baron. My name is wellenough known so that you cannot thus indulge yourself in suchepithets. You can do with me as you wish, because force is on yourside, but you cannot compel me to speak with one who gives meoffence.At these words of mine he swung his feet down off the bed and withevident astonishment began to survey me, holding his breath andpulling still at his moustache. Retaining my exterior calmness, Ibegan to glance indifferently around the yurta, and only then Inoticed General Rezukhin. I bowed to him and received his silentacknowledgment. After that I swung my glance back to the Baron,who sat with bowed head and closed eyes, from time to time rubbinghis brow and mumbling to himself.
Suddenly he stood up and sharply said, looking past and over me:
Go out! There is no need of more. . . .I swung round and saw Captain Veseloffsky with his white, coldface. I had not heard him enter. He did a formal "about face" andpassed out of the door.
'Death from the white man' has stood behind me, I thought; "buthas it quite left me?"The Baron stood thinking for some time and then began to speak injumbled, unfinished phrases.
"I ask your pardon. . . . You must understand there are so manytraitors! Honest men have disappeared. I cannot trust anybody. All names are false and assumed; documents are counterfeited. Eyesand words deceive. . . . All is demoralized, insulted byBolshevism. I just ordered Colonel Philipoff cut down, he whocalled himself the representative of the Russian WhiteOrganization. In the lining of his garments were found two secretBolshevik codes. . . . When my officer flourished his sword overhim, he exclaimed: 'Why do you kill me, Tavarische?' I cannottrust anybody. . . .He was silent and I also held my peace.
"I beg your pardon! he began anew. "I offended you; but I am notsimply a man, I am a leader of great forces and have in my head somuch care, sorrow and woe!"In his voice I felt there was mingled despair and sincerity. Hefrankly put out his hand to me. Again silence. At last Ianswered:
What do you order me to do now, for I have neither counterfeit norreal documents? But many of your officers know me and in Urga Ican find many who will testify that I could be neither agitatornor. . ."No need, no need! interrupted the Baron. "All is clear, all isunderstood! I was in your soul and I know all. It is the truthwhich Hutuktu Narabanchi has written about you. What can I do foryou?"I explained how my friend and I had escaped from Soviet Russia inthe effort to reach our native land and how a group of Polishsoldiers had joined us in the hope of getting back to Poland; and Iasked that help be given us to reach the nearest port.
With pleasure, with pleasure. . . . I will help you all, heanswered excitedly. "I shall drive you to Urga in my motor car.
Tomorrow we shall start and there in Urga we shall talk aboutfurther arrangements."Taking my leave, I went out of the yurta. On arriving at myquarters, I found Colonel Kazagrandi in great anxiety walking upand down my room.
Thanks be to God! he exclaimed and crossed himself.
His joy was very touching but at the same time I thought that theColonel could have taken much more active measures for thesalvation of his guest, if he had been so minded. The agitation ofthis day had tired me and made me feel years older. When I lookedin the mirror I was certain there were more white hairs on my head.
At night I could not sleep for the flashing thoughts of the young,fine face of Colonel Philipoff, the pool of blood, the cold eyes ofCaptain Veseloffsky, the sound of Baron Ungern's voice with itstones of despair and woe, until finally I sank into a heavy stupor.
I was awakened by Baron Ungern who came to ask pardon that he couldnot take me in his motor car, because he was obliged to takeDaichin Van with him. But he informed me that he had leftinstructions to give me his own white camel and two Cossacks asservants. I had no time to thank him before he rushed out of myroom.
Sleep then entirely deserted me, so I dressed and began smokingpipe after pipe of tobacco, as I thought: "How much easier tofight the Bolsheviki on the swamps of Seybi and to cross the snowypeaks of Ulan Taiga, where the bad demons kill all the travelersthey can! There everything was simple and comprehensible, but hereit is all a mad nightmare, a dark and foreboding storm!" I feltsome tragedy, some horror in every movement of Baron Ungern, behindwhom paced this silent, white-faced Veseloffsky and Death.
At dawn of the following morning they led up the splendid whitecamel for me and we moved away. My company consisted of the twoCossacks, two Mongol soldiers and one Lama with two pack camelscarrying the tent and food. I still apprehended that the Baron hadit in mind not to dispose of me before my friends there in Van Kurebut to prepare this journey for me under the guise of which itwould be so easy to do away with me by the road. A bullet in theback and all would be finished. Consequently I was momentarilyready to draw my revolver and defend myself. I took care all thetime to have the Cossacks either ahead of me or at the side. Aboutnoon we heard the distant honk of a motor car and soon saw BaronUngern whizzing by us at full speed. With him were two adjutantsand Prince Daichin Van. The Baron greeted me very kindly andshouted:
Shall see you again in Urga!"Ah! I thought, "evidently I shall reach Urga. So I can be atease during my trip, and in Urga I have many friends beside thepresence there of the bold Polish soldiers whom I had worked within Uliassutai and who had outdistanced me in this journey."After the meeting with the Baron my Cossacks became very attentiveto me and sought to distract me with stories. They told me abouttheir very severe struggles with the Bolsheviki in Transbaikaliaand Mongolia, about the battle with the Chinese near Urga, aboutfinding communistic passports on several Chinese soldiers fromMoscow, about the bravery of Baron Ungern and how he would sit atthe campfire smoking and drinking tea right on the battle linewithout ever being touched by a bullet. At one fight seventy-fourbullets entered his overcoat, saddle and the boxes by his side andagain left him untouched. This is one of the reasons for his greatinfluence over the Mongols. They related how before the battle hehad made a reconnaissance in Urga with only one Cossack and on hisway back had killed a Chinese officer and two soldiers with hisbamboo stick or tashur; how he had no outfit save one change oflinen and one extra pair of boots; how he was always calm andjovial in battle and severe and morose in the rare days of peace;and how he was everywhere his soldiers were fighting.
I told them, in turn, of my escape from Siberia and with chattingthus the day slipped by very quickly. Our camels trotted all thetime, so that instead of the ordinary eighteen to twenty miles perday we made nearly fifty. My mount was the fastest of them all.
He was a huge white animal with a splendid thick mane and had beenpresented to Baron Ungern by some Prince of Inner Mongolia with twoblack sables tied on the bridle. He was a calm, strong, bold giantof the desert, on whose back I felt myself as though perched on thetower of a building. Beyond the Orkhon River we came across thefirst dead body of a Chinese soldier, which lay face up and armsoutstretched right in the middle of the road. When we had crossedthe Burgut Mountains, we entered the Tola River valley, farther upwhich Urga is located. The road was strewn with the overcoats,shirts, boots, caps and kettles which the Chinese had thrown awayin their flight; and marked by many of their dead. Further on theroad crossed a morass, where on either side lay great mounds of thedead bodies of men, horses and camels with broken carts andmilitary debris of every sort. Here the Tibetans of Baron Ungernhad cut up the escaping Chinese baggage transport; and it was astrange and gloomy contrast to see the piles of dead besides theeffervescing awakening life of spring. In every pool wild ducks ofdifferent kinds floated about; in the high grass the cranesperformed their weird dance of courtship; on the lakes great flocksof swans and geese were swimming; through the swampy places likespots of light moved the brilliantly colored pairs of the Mongoliansacred bird, the turpan or "Lama goose"; on the higher dry placesflocks of wild turkey gamboled and fought as they fed; flocks ofthe salga partridge whistled by; while on the mountain side not faraway the wolves lay basking and turning in the lazy warmth of thesun, whining and occasionally barking like playful dogs.
Nature knows only life. Death is for her but an episode whosetraces she rubs out with sand and snow or ornaments with luxuriantgreenery and brightly colored bushes and flowers. What matters itto Nature if a mother at Chefoo or on the banks of the Yangtseoffers her bowl of rice with burning incense at some shrine andprays for the return of her son that has fallen unknown for alltime on the plains along the Tola, where his bones will dry beneaththe rays of Nature's dissipating fire and be scattered by her windsover the sands of the prairie? It is splendid, this indifferenceof Nature to death, and her greediness for life!
On the fourth day we made the shores of the Tola well afternightfall. We could not find the regular ford and I forced mycamel to enter the stream in the attempt to make a crossing withoutguidance. Very fortunately I found a shallow, though somewhatmiry, place and we got over all right. This is something to bethankful for in fording a river with a camel; because, when yourmount finds the water too deep, coming up around his neck, he doesnot strike out and swim like a horse will do but just rolls over onhis side and floats, which is vastly inconvenient for his rider.
Down by the river we pegged our tent.
Fifteen miles further on we crossed a battlefield, where the thirdgreat battle for the independence of Mongolia had been fought.
Here the troops of Baron Ungern clashed with six thousand Chinesemoving down from Kiakhta to the aid of Urga. The Chinese werecompletely defeated and four thousand prisoners taken. However,these surrendered Chinese tried to escape during the night. BaronUngern sent the Transbaikal Cossacks and Tibetans in pursuit ofthem and it was their work which we saw on this field of death.
There were still about fifteen hundred unburied and as many moreinterred, according to the statements of our Cossacks, who hadparticipated in this battle. The killed showed terrible swordwounds; everywhere equipment and other debris were scattered about.
The Mongols with their herds moved away from the neighborhood andtheir place was taken by the wolves which hid behind every stoneand in every ditch as we passed. Packs of dogs that had becomewild fought with the wolves over the prey.
At last we left this place of carnage to the cursed god of war.
Soon we approached a shallow, rapid stream, where the Mongolsslipped from their camels, took off their caps and began drinking.
It was a sacred stream which passed beside the abode of the LivingBuddha. From this winding valley we suddenly turned into anotherwhere a great mountain ridge covered with dark, dense forest loomedup before us.
Holy Bogdo-Ol! exclaimed the Lama. "The abode of the Gods whichguard our Living Buddha!"Bogdo-Ol is the huge knot which ties together here three mountainchains: Gegyl from the southwest, Gangyn from the south, and Huntufrom the north. This mountain covered with virgin forest is theproperty of the Living Buddha. The forests are full of nearly allthe varieties of animals found in Mongolia, but hunting is notallowed. Any Mongol violating this law is condemned to death,while foreigners are deported. Crossing the Bogdo-Ol is forbiddenunder penalty of death. This command was transgressed by only oneman, Baron Ungern, who crossed the mountain with fifty Cossacks,penetrated to the palace of the Living Buddha, where the Pontiff ofUrga was being held under arrest by the Chinese, and stole him.
At last before our eyes the abode of the Living Buddha! At thefoot of Bogdo-Ol behind white walls rose a white Tibetan buildingcovered with greenish-blue tiles that glittered under the sunshine.
It was richly set among groves of trees dotted here and there withthe fantastic roofs of shrines and small palaces, while furtherfrom the mountain it was connected by a long wooden bridge acrossthe Tola with the city of monks, sacred and revered throughout allthe East as Ta Kure or Urga. Here besides the Living Buddha livewhole throngs of secondary miracle workers, prophets, sorcerers andwonderful doctors. All these people have divine origin and arehonored as living gods. At the left on the high plateau stands anold monastery with a huge, dark red tower, which is known as the"Temple Lamas City," containing a gigantic bronze gilded statue ofBuddha sitting on the golden flower of the lotus; tens of smallertemples, shrines, obo, open altars, towers for astrology and thegrey city of the Lamas consisting of single-storied houses andyurtas, where about 60,000 monks of all ages and ranks dwell;schools, sacred archives and libraries, the houses of Bandi and theinns for the honored guests from China, Tibet, and the lands of theBuriat and Kalmuck.
Down below the monastery is the foreign settlement where theRussian, foreign and richest Chinese merchants live and where themulti-colored and crowded oriental bazaar carries forward itsbustling life. A kilometre away the greyish enclosure of Maimachensurrounds the remaining Chinese trading establishments, whilefarther on one sees a long row of Russian private houses, ahospital, church, prison and, last of all, the awkward four-storiedred brick building that was formerly the Russian Consulate.
We were already within a short distance of the monastery, when Inoticed several Mongol soldiers in the mouth of a ravine nearby,dragging back and concealing in the ravine three dead bodies.
What are they doing? I asked.
The Cossacks only smiled without answering. Suddenly theystraightened up with a sharp salute. Out of the ravine came asmall, stocky Mongolian pony with a short man in the saddle. As hepassed us, I noticed the epaulets of a colonel and the green capwith a visor. He examined me with cold, colorless eyes from underdense brows. As he went on ahead, he took off his cap and wipedthe perspiration from his bald head. My eyes were struck by thestrange undulating line of his skull. It was the man "with thehead like a saddle," against whom I had been warned by the oldfortune teller at the last ourton outside Van Kure!
Who is this officer? I inquired.
Although he was already quite a distance in front of us, theCossacks whispered: "Colonel Sepailoff, Commandant of Urga City."Colonel Sepailoff, the darkest person on the canvas of Mongolianevents! Formerly a mechanician, afterwards a gendarme, he hadgained quick promotion under the Czar's regime. He was alwaysnervously jerking and wriggling his body and talking ceaselessly,making most unattractive sounds in his throat and sputtering withsaliva all over his lips, his whole face often contracted withspasms. He was mad and Baron Ungern twice appointed a commissionof surgeons to examine him and ordered him to rest in the hope hecould rid the man of his evil genius. Undoubtedly Sepailoff was asadist. I heard afterwards that he himself executed the condemnedpeople, joking and singing as he did his work. Dark, terrifyingtales were current about him in Urga. He was a bloodhound,fastening his victims with the jaws of death. All the glory of thecruelty of Baron Ungern belonged to Sepailoff. Afterwards BaronUngern once told me in Urga that this Sepailoff annoyed him andthat Sepailoff could kill him just as well as others. Baron Ungernfeared Sepailoff, not as a man, but dominated by his ownsuperstition, because Sepailoff had found in Transbaikalia a witchdoctor who predicted the death of the Baron if he dismissedSepailoff. Sepailoff knew no pardon for Bolshevik nor for any oneconnected with the Bolsheviki in any way. The reason for hisvengeful spirit was that the Bolsheviki had tortured him in prisonand, after his escape, had killed all his family. He was nowtaking his revenge.
I put up with a Russian firm and was at once visited by myassociates from Uliassutai, who greeted me with great joy becausethey had been much exercised about the events in Van Kure and ZainShabi. When I had bathed and spruced up, I went out with them onthe street. We entered the bazaar. The whole market was crowded.
To the lively colored groups of men buying, selling and shoutingtheir wares, the bright streamers of Chinese cloth, the strings ofpearls, the earrings and bracelets gave an air of endlessfestivity; while on another side buyers were feeling of live sheepto see whether they were fat or not, the butcher was cutting greatpieces of mutton from the hanging carcasses and everywhere thesesons of the plain were joking and jesting. The Mongolian women intheir huge coiffures and heavy silver caps like saucers on theirheads were admiring the variegated silk ribbons and long chains ofcoral beads; an imposing big Mongol attentively examined a smallherd of splendid horses and bargained with the Mongol zahachine orowner of the horses; a skinny, quick, black Tibetan, who had cometo Urga to pray to the Living Buddha or, maybe, with a secretmessage from the other "God" in Lhasa, squatted and bargained foran image of the Lotus Buddha carved in agate; in another corner abig crowd of Mongols and Buriats had collected and surrounded aChinese merchant selling finely painted snuff-bottles of glass,crystal, porcelain, amethyst, jade, agate and nephrite, for one ofwhich made of a greenish milky nephrite with regular brown veinsrunning through it and carved with a dragon winding itself around abevy of young damsels the merchant was demanding of his Mongolinquirers ten young oxen; and everywhere Buriats in their long redcoats and small red caps embroidered with gold helped the Tartarsin black overcoats and black velvet caps on the back of their headsto weave the pattern of this Oriental human tapestry. Lamas formedthe common background for it all, as they wandered about in theiryellow and red robes, with capes picturesquely thrown over theirshoulders and caps of many forms, some like yellow mushrooms,others like the red Phrygian bonnets or old Greek helmets in red.
They mingled with the crowd, chatting serenely and counting theirrosaries, telling fortunes for those who would hear but chieflysearching out the rich Mongols whom they could cure or exploit byfortune telling, predictions or other mysteries of a city of 60,000Lamas. Simultaneously religious and political espionage was beingcarried out. Just at this time many Mongols were arriving fromInner Mongolia and they were continuously surrounded by aninvisible but numerous network of watching Lamas. Over thebuildings around floated the Russian, Chinese and Mongoliannational flags with a single one of the Stars and Stripes above asmall shop in the market; while over the nearby tents and yurtasstreamed the ribbons, the squares, the circles and triangles of theprinces and private persons afflicted or dying from smallpox andleprosy. All were mingled and mixed in one bright mass stronglylighted by the sun. Occasionally one saw the soldiers of BaronUngern rushing about in long blue coats; Mongols and Tibetans inred coats with yellow epaulets bearing the swastika of Jenghiz Khanand the initials of the Living Buddha; and Chinese soldiers fromtheir detachment in the Mongolian army. After the defeat of theChinese army two thousand of these braves petitioned the LivingBuddha to enlist them in his legions, swearing fealty and faith tohim. They were accepted and formed into two regiments bearing theold Chinese silver dragons on their caps and shoulders.
As we crossed this market, from around a corner came a big motorcar with the roar of a siren. There was Baron Ungern in the yellowsilk Mongolian coat with a blue girdle. He was going very fast butrecognized me at once, stopping and getting out to invite me to gowith him to his yurta. The Baron lived in a small, simply arrangedyurta, set up in the courtyard of a Chinese hong. He had hisheadquarters in two other yurtas nearby, while his servantsoccupied one of the Chinese fang-tzu. When I reminded him of hispromise to help me to reach the open ports, the General looked atme with his bright eyes and spoke in French:
"My work here is coming to an end. In nine days I shall begin thewar with the Bolsheviki and shall go into the Transbaikal. I begthat you will spend this time here. For many years I have livedwithout civilized society. I am alone with my thoughts and I wouldlike to have you know them, speaking with me not as the 'bloody madBaron,' as my enemies call me, nor as the 'severe grandfather,' which my officers and soldiers call me, but as an ordinary man whohas sought much and has suffered even more.The Baron reflected for some minutes and then continued:
"I have thought about the further trip of your group and I shallarrange everything for you, but I ask you to remain here these ninedays.What was I to do? I agreed. The Baron shook my hand warmly andordered tea.