# George Roerich. Trails to the Inmost Asia

## III. Khotan

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**Oct 14, 1925 — Jan 27, 1926** [Khotan](/#m=9/37.11379/79.92416&l=Gs&p=53/o)

It was difficult to realize that we had reached Khotan, the ancient Kingdom of Jade, and
one of the most thriving oases of the Chinese Province of Hsin-chiang. The modern city
with its covered bazaars and dusty lanes, hides the visage of ancient Khotan, once an
important seat of Buddhist learning and emporium of central Asian trade.

In the oldest Chinese Annals, the town is known by the name of Yu-t'ien. The native
name was Kustana, or Ch'iu-sa-tan-na in the Chinese transcription (another
transcription is Ch'iu-tan).

Sir Aurel Stein, during his several archaeological expeditions in Khotan and its
vicinity, has discovered a mass of tablets inscribed in Kharoshthi, an Indian alphabet
current in the northwest of India about the beginning of our era. These documents give
us valuable insight into the everyday life of the great trading oases along the southern
caravan route, connecting Khotan with distant Tun-huang and the interior of China.

During the pre-Mohammedan period of central Asian history, Khotan was inhabited by an
Iranian population, which spoke an Iranian dialect conditionally designated by the name
of Oriental-Iranian.

The ancient city of Khotan and the other important oases along the trade route, had
large colonies of Indian merchants, carrying on a considerable trade with northwestern
India. It was probably these Indian colonies that introduced the Kharoshthi alphabet.
The population of Khotan was Buddhist, professing the Mahayana form. Chinese pilgrims,
who braved the dangers of the central Asian deserts in quest of knowledge from India,
have left us detailed accounts of the thriving state of Buddhism in the Kingdom of
Khotan and the wonderful religious zeal of its monarchs.

There is little to glean from Mohammedan sources about the medieval history of Khotan.
It seems to have remained Buddhist even after the Mohammedan conquest of about 1000 A.D.
The Mohammedan author, Gardizi, says that the people of Khotan were Buddhist but he also
mentions a Mohammedan cemetery, north of Khotan, and two Christian churches in the town
itself (neither Christian nor Manichean relics have so far been discovered in Khotan).

Ibn-al Athir mentions Kadir Khan Yusuf, who died in 1032 A.D., as the Mohammedan
conqueror of Khotan.

During the period from the tenth century to the twelfth century A.D. Khotan was
conquered by the Ilek-khans and the Kara-Khitai. From the thirteenth century the ancient
kingdom owed allegiance to China and continued a semi-independent existence, under the
overlordship of China, until the eighteenth century, when it formed part of the State of
the Khodjas (saints). The Khodjas were followed by the Jungar Mongols, who held Khotan
until 1758 A.D. when the Oirat power crumbled under the decisive blows delivered by the
Chinese imperial troops. From that date, Khotan remained under Chinese control except
for a brief period beginning in 1863-64 when the oasis was invaded by Yakub Beg. After
his violent death in 1877 A.D. Khotan again accepted Chinese sovereignty and has
remained ever since under the overlordship of China. Such are the outstanding historical
facts in the life of the famous oasis.

The ruins of the pre-Mohammedan town lie some five miles west of the modern town. Sir
Aurel Stein has gathered on its site important collections of small antiquities and
coins. The insurmountable obstacle to systematic archaeological excavations lies in the
fact that the ancient city is partly re-covered by a modern settlement and some
Mohammedan cemeteries, which it is impossible to disturb.

From time to time landslides uncover terra cotta figurines and masses of ancient coins,
which usually fall into the hands of local treasure-seekers. For the past few years the
archaeological spoils have been very insignificant. The local people had quickly learned
to imitate terra cotta figurines of *stupas* and even animals, and the Khotan
market displays a good number of these spurious antiques. The profession of
treasure-seekers has almost disappeared and very few people care to visit the desert
tracts.

Some of the local notables, aware of the value of genuine antiques, accumulate for
themselves considerable collections of smaller objects with an ultimate view of selling
them to wealthy foreigners. In such cases the prices are usually very high and the story
is told that the collection has been registered by the Indian Archaeological Department.
During our stay in Khotan, the veteran Indian *aasaqal*, Badruddin Khan, once the
local agent of Sir Aurel Stein, showed us a considerable collection of antiquities,
gathered by him and his agents at Yotkan, Rawak, Niya, Mazar Imam Jafar Sadik, and
distant Miran, all places explored by Sir Aurel Stein. This collection comprised
well-preserved stucco heads of Buddhas, jars with handles adorned with human and animal
heads, fragments of frescoes, objects in clay, such as votive *stupas*, offering
lamps, animal figures, etc. The collection included several wooden tablets inscribed in
Kharoshthi, torn fragments of a text in Oriental-Iranian, lists of Tibetan writings on
paper from the Miran site, containing mostly leave permits for soldiers of the Tibetan
garrison in the Miran Fort. (A curious detail is the constant use of the word
*dpa-o* for "soldier"; in the present-day language, the word has the
restricted sense of "hero.")

Badruddin Khan had also a large manuscript with leaves bound together, written in the
central Asian slanting script, which was said to have come from some locality situated
between Aksu and Kuchar.

The price he asked for the whole collection was exorbitant, and notwithstanding
protracted negotiations we were unable to lower it. Our limited supply of silver and
banknotes, the difficulty of obtaining a new supply from the outside, and the subsequent
difficulties with local authorities, forced us to drop the matter. I have heard since
that the collection has been acquired by some foreign travelers who visited Khotan after
our departure.

The modern oasis of Khotan has about 150,000 inhabitants, with a considerable Chinese
colony of officials, their families, traders, and soldiers. The city consists of two
parts, the Kone-shahr or the Old City occupied by the Mohammedan population, and the
Yangi-shahr or New City, also called Han-ch'eng, the Walled Chinese City, built in
1883. Throughout its history, Khotan was an important trading center on the ancient silk
route. The fame of Khotan artisans lives to the present day. Khotan silks, carpets,
felts, wool, furs, and jade are still in great demand, and command good prices
throughout central Asia, India, and distant China. Before the Revolution of 1917
considerable trade was conducted with Russia through Irkeshtam.

Khotan silk manufacture is the largest in the country, and Khotanese silk fabrics are
found in all the markets of Chinese Turkestan and a few years ago were exported in
considerable quantity to Russian Turkestan through Kashgar and the frontier outpost of
Irkeshtam. Besides silk fabrics, Khotan is noted for its cotton stuffs, which are
exported in large quantities. The Khotanese silk and cotton factories are largely worked
by female and child labor. We knew of several big Khotan merchants who owned some two
hundred girls and obliged them to work in their factories. A mild form of slavery is
still a distinct feature of Khotanese life. Parents usually have nothing against their
daughters or sons being sold to a family of good social standing, where they are well
cared for. Many have become slaves through being unable to pay their debts. The usual
price for a girl of fourteen is from fifteen to thirty Mexican dollars. A child of four
is often sold for a couple of dollars. Mohammedan merchants pay regular visits to the
Kansu Province, where they buy children under the age of five and transport them to
Turkestan to be sold to families. During our crossing of the Kansu Province we once came
across a party of boys and girls, all under five, sold to a wealthy Mohammedan merchant.
They all were sitting in a courtyard, learning to recite Mohammedan prayers.

Besides silk and cotton stuffs, Khotan produces a large quantity of carpets. The old art
of carpet weaving was lost long ago and the modern factories produce imitations of
Chinese and old Persian carpets. Khotan carpets are found throughout central Asia. The
Kirghiz and Torgut traders from Jungaria and Karashahr pay yearly visits to Khotan, and
carry away a considerable portion of the yearly produce in carpets, which are used in
furnishing felt tents and monasteries.

In recent years, Khotan felts have been in great demand. These felts are manufactured
all along the southern trade route between Yarkend and Khotan, but the center of
manufacture is undoubtedly Khotan. These felts are often vividly colored and have a
striking design. Most of the trade is done with India, where the felts are in growing
demand, not only for Indian markets, but also for foreign markets. Khotan sheepskins are
valued throughout Chinese Turkestan and are commonly used as winter lining for coats and
winter caps. The skins are well tanned and compare favorably with the other
fur-producing centers of Turkestan, such as Kashgar, Aksu, and Kuchar.

The present jade manufacture is very insignificant. The trade received a rude shock
during the rule of Ma Fu-hsin, the Ti-t'ai of Kashgar, who ordered the exportation
of a number of skilled artisans from Khotan for his jade works in Kashgar.

As an agricultural center, Khotan occupies an important place. It is well watered and
the fertile beds of alluvial loess afford ample opportunity for agriculture.

Wheat, corn, barley, and rice are cultivated on an extensive scale. The oasis boasts of
many fruit orchards, where apples, pears, apricots, grapes, melons, etc., are grown.

The sight of modern Khotan is unattractive for one who is accustomed to the rich
coloring of the mountain tracts. For hours one rides along dusty lanes, lined with
poplars. On either side are half-ruined clay structures—farm houses, *mazars* or
tombs, roadside mosques, or endless brick walls which fence off plots of waste land. The
covered bazaars are evil smelling and only the exceptional dryness of the climate
prevents epidemics. The bazaar streets are narrow and are always blocked by fruitstands
and hawkers, who wander through the dense crowd. Most of the shops are open, and the
goods are displayed on the stands. Many of the shops are run by women who trade in the
name of their husbands.

During the crowded bazaar hours, it is almost impossible to ride through the crowds that
swarm through the streets. Caravans on horses, mules, donkeys, and camels may block the
way for hours, and unbelievable clamor and shouts rise when two caravans collide in the
narrow market place. The native manner of getting through a crowd is to beat one's
way through, and this method is extensively used by the Chinese soldiery. Sometimes one
hears a loud outcry and sees the crowd flee in all directions, overturning fruitstands.
A moment later one sees a carriage approaching, preceded by several mounted soldiers who
lash the throng with their long whips. It is surprising that no one takes objection to
the treatment, accepting it as one of the prerogatives of official power.

By night the bazaars are lit with oil lamps and Chinese paper lanterns, making a very
colorful picture.

As to the social life of Khotan, suffice it to say that the town and its populace has
not changed since the time of Marco Polo. The account left by the great Venetian is
still a true reproduction of Khotanese manners and customs.

Our sojourn in Khotan began with busy days. Visits had to be paid to the
*Tao-t'ai* or Governor, the *amban* or city magistrate, and the
*tung-ling*, officer commanding the Khotan garrison. We began our visits early in
the morning of our first day in Khotan. First we went to the
*Tao-t'ai yamen*. Professor Roerich and I rode on horseback, followed by our
Chinese interpreter and preceded by several *begs* or headmen and Chinese
soldiers, who cleared the way through the narrow streets of the Mohammedan section of
the city. As soon as we appeared, a crowd formed and followed us to the gates of the
Governor's residence. A detachment of infantry was lined up on either side of the
large entrance gate. The men, in dark gray uniforms with red shoulder straps, presented
arms. Then they rushed past us to the next gate, again lined up and again presented
arms. This ceremony was performed three times at each of the three gates of the
*yamen*. The *Tao-t'ai* met us in the inner courtyard of his
residence.

Ma Shao-wu, the conqueror of Kashgar and the slayer of the *Ti-t'ai*, was a
diminutive man with aquiline features and polite, quiet manners. After the usual
ceremonial inquiries about health, the road, etc., he begged us to enter a large room
reserved for the occasion. Here tea was served on a small table, around which we took
our seats, the subordinate officials remaining standing all the time.

The room was furnished in a strange and incongruous combination of Chinese and European
style. In the corner stood the usual large Chinese bed, and small Chinese black tables
were placed along the wall. The room was full of arms, the presence of which evinced the
warlike habits of the Governor. On the walls hung German Mauser pistols in wooden
holsters, and Russian Cossack swords. One of the corners of the room was occupied by
innumerable wrist watches, a unique collection gathered by the Governor from Russian
refugees, when he was the officer commanding the garrison at Uch-Turfan, a city on the
Russian Turkestan border.

Behind each of us stood an armed guardsman of the Governor's bodyguard; each man was
armed with a sword, a pair of Mauser pistols, and heavy cartridge belts. An inquisitive
crowd of Turki headmen and secretaries pressed in the doorway. The Governor delivered a
brief speech of welcome, telling us how glad he was to honor such distinguished
foreigners. He hoped that we would make a prolonged stay in Khotan and rest after all
the hardships of the snowy route over the Karakorum. He was ready to grant us every
assistance and was himself deeply interested in the past of Khotan. He had heard about
the splendid work achieved by Sir Aurel Stein in this very region and it was his wish to
assist scholars from foreign lands in their explorations. During this brief address,
couched in such friendly and enlightened terms, I had time to examine the person of the
Governor and recall to my mind the recent events of his troubled life.

Ma Shao-wu belonged to a great and distinguished family of Chinese Mohammedans. His
father was once the Viceroy of the Yunnan Province and lost his life in a rebellion
against the imperial throne of China. The present Governor of Khotan spent his younger
days in distant Yunnan, then was exiled to the torrid desert tracts of western Kansu and
Hsin-chiang. This family had produced several outstanding personalities, all of them
occupying important posts in Chinese Provincial administration.

Ma Fu-hsin, the murdered Ti-t'ai of Kashgar, was one of them and the strong man of
Sining, General Ma, belongs to the same line. For many years the present Governor of
Khotan was the officer commanding the garrison of Kashgar and Uch-Turfan. It is during
this period that a deep-rooted animosity was shown between him and his elder relative,
the Ti-t'ai of Kashgar.

Ma Ti-t'ai was a characteristic figure in the Chinese administration of the New
Dominion. He was a ruthless despot, who knew no mercy for either Chinese or native
Turki. He built himself a huge palace in the Chinese town or Han-ch'eng of Kashgar,
and had several summer houses in its vicinity. He constructed bridges and roads and
planted trees along them. A native daring to hit a tree with his carriage would have the
fingers of both hands cut off. The Ti-t'ai owned large enterprises outside the city,
was interested in oil, and maintained a large jade factory for which he requisitioned
the best artisans from Khotan.

He had a pitiless way of removing his competitors in commercial enterprises. The
unfortunate men were summoned to the Governor's palace, and there were put to death
or had their hands cut off. Now many of these unfortunate wretches are dead, but some
are still begging in the bazaars of Kashgar, evidence of a cruel despot.

The Ti-t'ai was famous for his harem of some fifty wives. Any pretty peasant girl
was in constant danger of being snatched away from her family and taken to the palace of
the Governor. When tired of his wives, he used to present them to his friends and
officers who had distinguished themselves in service. He was known for his lavish
entertainments and for a special brand of strong Chinese brandy, which he served at his
dinner parties.

For several years before his fall in 1924, he cherished hopes of becoming the
independent ruler of Kashgaria and his relations with Yang Tseng-hsin, Governor-General
of the Hsin-chiang Province, were very strained.

In 1924 the war clouds began to gather. It was rumored that the Ti-t'ai was planning
a rebellion against the Governor-General of the Province and the Provincial Government
realized the necessity of putting a stop to the dangerous activities of the Kashgar war
lord. A large force of some 18,000 cavalry and infantry was mustered in Urumchi and the
command was intrusted to Erh Tao-yin of Aksu, one of the ablest regional governors of
Hsin-chiang. The force started on its march to Kashgar in February, 1924. One should
not, however, think that all the 18,000 men were actually in the field. This large
number of troops no doubt existed only on paper and the force that arrived in Kashgar
amounted to only about five hundred men. In Hsin-chiang the authorities have a curious
way of counting their troops. They are not counted by sabers or bayonets, but by their
caps—not so many sabers or bayonets, but so many caps. Many of the regiment commanders
have their soldiers only on paper. They have no soldiers, but keep caps for them and the
caps are counted in official reports.

Ma Shao-wu, who was the officer commanding the garrison in Uch-Turfan, petitioned the
Governor-General to be permitted to participate in the war expedition. In a spectacular
dash, he covered the long stretch from Uch-Turfan to Urumchi, the capital of the
Province, in seven days. His request was granted and he hurried back to take command of
the vanguard of the expeditionary forces. By detour routes in the hills, the vanguard
under Ma Shao-wu approached the Chinese city of Kashgar on June 1, 1924, and swept
through it. The soldiers of the Ti-t'ai were unprepared for an attack and offered
but little resistance. The Han-ch'eng was soon occupied by the invaders, who stormed
the palace of the Governor. The Ti-t'ai's son, who occupied the post of
Hsieh-t'ai, fought valiantly and fell dead in the courtyard of his citadel.

His father, the aged Ti-t'ai, is said to have offered firm resistance but was
eventually overpowered and arrested in one of his private rooms. During the fighting his
right arm was shot through by a bullet. The prisoner was led outside the main gate of
the citadel, and there crucified on a wooden cross.

Ma Shao-wu personally commanded the firing squad. Eyewitnesses tell that before the
execution the victorious Ma Shao-wu approached the crucified Ti-t'ai and shouted to
him: "Do you recognize me, Ma Fu-hsin?" "Ma Shao-wu," groaned the
wounded Ti-t'ai. After this very brief dialogue, Ma Shao-wu fired his pistol at the
Ti-t'ai, and the blood from the wound is said to have spurted on his coat—a bad
sign, according to the Chinese. In the excitement the soldiers of the firing squad shot
at the Ti-t'ai without previous orders and almost killed Ma Shao-wu, who stood
between them and the wounded man. He had a narrow escape.

For several days the corpse was exposed to the angry populace who came in thousands to
avenge themselves. They spat in the face of the dead man, tore his beard, and threw
refuse and stones. After this the body disappeared and its fate is unknown.

Ma Shao-wu remained master of the city, and foreign residents say that he acquitted
himself well of the task and by a series of stern measures restored order and prevented
looting. It was apparently a coveted desire of Ma Shao-wu to remain in Kashgar in place
of the slain Ti-t'ai, but the Governor-General of the Province was well aware of the
danger presented by the successful officer and resolved to appoint him to a more remote
section. A separate governorship was accordingly created in Khotan, and Ma Shao-wu was
appointed Tao-yin of the new district, which stretched from Karghalik to distant
Tun-huang on the Kansu border.

Erh Tao-yin and his corps of 18,000 men never reached Kashgar and great hostility is
said to exist between him and Ma Shao-wu.

During our stay in Khotan, it was commonly said that Ma Shao-wu had received orders from
the Governor-General to send back his troops to Urumchi, but that the newly appointed
Governor of Khotan disregarded the Governor-General's orders and kept the troops in
Khotan. This explained the presence of the great number of troops there.

Such was the great deed of Ma Shao-wu, for which he became famous throughout the vast
Province. It was a family feud of long standing and the last act of the drama is still
to be enacted. All during our stay in Khotan, the Tao-t'ai was apprehensive of an
advance by General Ma of Sining to avenge the death of his cousin. Troops were said to
have been concentrated at Tun-huang and rumors were whispered that General Ma was
negotiating with the Provincial Government at Lan-chou for a general advance on
Hsin-chiang.

Such was the background of Ma Shao-wu when we first met him in Khotan. A man of
considerable ability and personal courage, but an intriguer and revengeful, he found
himself relegated to a distant province separated from the other inhabited places of
Hsin-chiang by vast tracts of desert.

Our first meeting with the man was very friendly and we had all the prospects of a
successful stay in Khotan. We took leave of the Governor and proceeded to the city
magistrate—a typical Chinese official of the interior of China. A faithful instrument of
the Governor, he echoed the same readiness to assist us. The *tung-ling* or
officer commanding the garrison at Khotan, whom we visited next, was a young man of
pleasant manners and during our subsequent troubles occupied a neutral position.
Everywhere we were met with the same ceremonies and guards of honor.

After a strenuous morning we returned to our camp. In the afternoon we received the
visit of Ma Tao-t'ai, who was followed by the *chih-shih* or magistrate and
the *tung-ling*. The Governor arrived in a covered carriage painted green on the
outside and lined with violet velvet, drawn by three horses. The *cortège* was
followed by forty cavalrymen of the Governor's bodyguard on raven black horses. The
bodyguard of forty men is said to be maintained by the Tao-t'ai at his own expense.
All of the men were heavily armed and presented the pick of Chinese troops in
Hsin-chiang. The Governor once more assured us of his good will and urged us to make
ourselves comfortable in Khotan.

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It was impossible to stay in the small garden of Badruddin Khan with our big caravan,
and we therefore decided to find a suitable house with plenty of ground in which to
establish our headquarters. In our search we encountered the first obstacle to be set in
our way by the local authorities. We were fortunate in finding a beautifully situated
summer house belonging to the late Afghan *aqsaqal* of Khotan, an ideal place for
our headquarters, with extensive grounds, situated three miles from the city itself. We
at once decided to rent the house and there establish the expedition headquarters. It
was Persian in style and had stood empty since the death of its owner, as his widow
lived in her town house. We made known our decision to a native interpreter, Kerim Beg,
who was attached to our camp by the local authorities. He seemed very displeased at our
choice, and hinted that the Governor would prefer to see us living closer to his
residence. We thought it very strange and sent our Chinese secretary, Ts'ai, to the
Governor's *yamen* to inquire. He soon came back and reported that the
Governor had assured him that he had nothing against our living in the summer house of
the former Afghan *aqsaqal* and that the *beg* had misconstrued his
orders. We accordingly instructed Kerim Beg to call on the *aqsaqal* family to
discuss terms. He refused to do so, saying that the family was a very difficult one to
deal with.

After this conversation, several days elapsed without our being able to settle the
matter. It was during this period that we made the acquaintance of a local trader,
Khudai Berdi Bai, who became a trusted friend all through the period of our difficulties
with local authorities. The matter of renting the house seemed to take a hopeless turn
and we decided to negotiate directly with the Afghan *aqsaqal's* family. To
our great surprise, we found them very eager to rent the house. Someone was trying to
prevent us from establishing our headquarters there. Who this dark shadow was, whose
hand we found in all our difficulties in Khotan, we were unable to ascertain. We signed
an agreement, paid a month's rent, and took possession of the house and compound, to
the great consternation of Kerim Beg.

Having established our headquarters, we began to plan our scientific and artistic
activities in Khotan and its vicinity. The ancient site of Khotan—Yotkan, where from
time to time landslides revealed miscellaneous objects and remains of old structures—had
to be explored. We also planned for a brief expedition to Mazar Imam Jafar Sadik and to
the site of the Rawak *stupa* where shifting sands had uncovered interesting new
remains.

Our Ladakis, these wonderful hillmen, found it difficult to become accustomed to new
surroundings and we decided to let them return to their native Ladak. They departed,
well recompensed for their splendid services. We heard later on that all of them safely
reached Leh, but encountered great snowdrifts on the Sanju Pass.

Besides his archaeological work, Professor Roerich intended to extend his artistic work,
possibly toward the Karanghu Tagh Mountains and round Khotan. We also were planning our
future route to inner China, and had to muster a new caravan of men and animals. Amid
this organizing work, clouds gathered for a storm. Our friends, of whom we had many,
both among the Chinese and native Chang-t'ou, began to warn us that the Tao-t'ai
had been troubled by some of his counselors, who seemed to be conspiring against our
expedition. Strange rumors filled the air and no one knew whence they came or who was
spreading them.

For a time, everything was quiet. The Tao-t'ai arranged a dinner of some fifty
courses in honor of Professor Roerich, at which all the local officials were present,
and also Mr. K. Moldavak, an Armenian gentleman, who had long been living in Khotan and
was one of the closest friends of the local Governor. Mrs. Roerich could not attend the
function and the whole dinner of fifty courses was sent to her by an *aide* to
the Governor. It was a long affair, which started about three o'clock in the
afternoon and continued late into the evening. The Chinese played their usual table
games, in which the loser had to drink a glass of strong Chinese brandy after each
defeat. The Tao-t'ai entertained his guests with stories of his former exploits and
showed photos of his tame leopards, of which he was very proud.

After dinner, some of the officials present sang Chinese ballads. Unfortunately none of
the singers were experts, and we failed to appreciate their singing. The dinner ended
late at night and we were led to the courtyard, the Governor heading the procession
which was preceded by soldiers carrying Chinese paper lanterns. Our horses stood waiting
for us at the inner gate of the *yamen*. Twenty horsemen of the Governor's
bodyguard escorted us home. Each rider carried a lantern. We rode at quick pace through
the streets of Khotan which were crowded, notwithstanding the late hour. The raven black
horses of the escort shied and overthrew several fruitstands. It was a beautiful, cool
evening and the usually hazy atmosphere of the desert gave way to a clear transparent
sky, against the background of which we could see the sharp snowy outline of the
Karanghu Tagh Mountains south of Khotan.

For several days more our relations with the authorities continued to be outwardly
friendly, although there were signs of a growing uneasiness in the Governor and his
subordinates.

A few days after the dinner party, the young son of the Governor became ill, and Mrs.
Roerich had to go to help them. The boy recovered and the Governor afterward mentioned
that this aid saved us from further difficulties in Khotan and on the way.

Khotan, a city of several scores of thousands, has not even a single doctor. The nearest
European doctor lives in Yarkend. The usual practice was to send an urgent message
inviting Dr. Nyström, of the Swedish Mission in Yarkend. It took the doctor about five
days to reach Khotan, traveling day and night on a Chinese cart.

We applied to the magistrate of the city for permission to sketch and take photos in the
city itself and its environs. Permission was refused in both cases, and we were told
that they had written for instructions to the Governor-General of the Province. We
decided to protest to the Tao-t'ai and remind him of his promise to assist the
expedition in its work.

Meanwhile a new magistrate had arrived from Urumchi and Kashgar. Disquieting rumors were
whispered about. The new magistrate was violently opposed to foreigners, although he
boasted of his modernism.

A few days after his arrival, the Governor with all the Chinese officials came to thank
Mrs. Roerich for her help during the illness of the Governor's son. They came
accompanied by an armed escort. From the very beginning of the conversation we felt that
the Tao-t'ai and the new magistrate had something on their minds. We invited them to
tea in my room and closed the doors so as to prevent the noisy soldiers from entering.
Ma Tao-t'ai and the magistrate seemed very uneasy and surly. They examined the room
attentively and exchanged brief remarks about our pack cases that were piled along the
walls. Suddenly the Tao-t'ai coughed three times, the door swung open and the room
was filled with soldiers, who lined up along the walls. The room assumed the appearance
of a tribunal. We were much surprised and expressed our astonishment at the conduct of
the Governor. The Tao-t'ai smiled and begged us not to pay any attention. I feel
sure that the Governor was afraid to remain alone in the room.

The conversation continued on general topics, when suddenly the new magistrate began to
question us about our passports. We once more produced our Peking passports sent us to
India from the Chinese Wai-chiao-pu, through Mr. Cheng Lo, the Chinese Ambassador in
Peking. The attitude of the Chinese was inexplainable. They scoffingly remarked that our
passports were not valid in this Province, that the Peking Government had nothing to say
in Hsin-chiang and that Mr. Cheng Lo had no authority to issue letters of introduction.
The Chinese assumed a threatening attitude, began to gesticulate, spit on the floor, and
scoff. It was quite an unexpected change, but we decided to stand firm and pointed out
to them that they had no right to threaten the expedition and disregard our passports.
We warned them that we should at once communicate with the British Consul in Kashgar and
ask him to request the Governor-General of Hsin-chiang for permission to continue our
work unimpeded. After a very heated discussion, the Tao-t'ai and his companions rose
and departed for Khotan.

Mr. Chang, the new magistrate, came the next day and said that a wire had been received
from the Governor-General ordering our expedition to return to India via the Sanju Pass.
This was an impossibility, for the pass was long since closed by the snow, and we at
once understood that the telegram was a fraud which originated in the *yamen* of
the Governor.

The visit of the magistrate was enlivened by an episode which caused considerable
merriment among our servants. The magistrate had arrived in state with a considerable
escort of policemen who waited outside the house. Our Tibetan mastiff, Tumbal, as a
precaution was taken away and tied to a tree in the garden. In the midst of our
conversation, we suddenly heard a loud outcry followed by a wild trampling of feet. The
dog had broken his chain and was slowly and menacingly advancing toward the house door.
The policemen, unable to stand the sight, fled, many barricading themselves in our
bathroom. The door to the room where we were sitting was open, and we could see the dog
coming up the steps of the terrace. The magistrate, pale and confused, quickly got on
the chair on which he had been sitting and prepared to get on the table where tea was
served. It took us some time to explain to the frightened man that the dog was harmless
in our presence.

After this visit of the magistrate, we sent a letter to Major Gillan, the British Consul
in Kashgar, asking him to assist the expedition. The letter was sent to the Khotan post
office but was returned with a note that the Tao-t'ai had given orders to seize all
our correspondence with the British Consul in Kashgar. Our letters, containing telegrams
for New York, Paris, and Peking, were similarly returned. The situation was a very grave
one, and we were fully aware that it was the beginning of a long period of persecution,
endless negotiations, and insult. We were cut off from the outside world, and had to
find means to send out messages with information of our position.

Several traders volunteered to carry our letters to the consulate at Kashgar. Besides
this, two friendly Kalmucks offered their services. They devised a very ingenious plan,
based on their thorough acquaintance with local official carelessness. Their plan
consisted in waiting patiently with the letter in the street outside the post office. At
the very last moment, when the postal messenger would be leading out his horse and
fixing the saddlebags, one of the Kalmucks would step out and hand our letter addressed
in Turki and Chinese to the British Consul. The Chinese postal official dispatching the
mail, would angrily ejaculate, "Why are you always late?" and without looking
at the address would throw the letter into one of the saddlebags. This stratagem
invariably worked and our letters reached their destination. Evidently at Kashgar our
letters were promptly delivered. It took us sixteen days to get an answer, which usually
came through a private channel.

On December 29, 1925, the new magistrate and several minor military officers,
representing the Tao-t'ai, came to search our baggage and house. We were said to
possess a huge amount of ammunition and some kind of a "shooting wheel" with
which we were able to annihilate the whole of the Khotan garrison and the population in
less than ten minutes! Our square wooden boxes of preserves from the Cockburn Agency in
Kashmir gave rise to the suspicion that we carried large supplies of ammunition with us.
Our firearms, consisting of two rifles, one double-barreled gun and three revolvers, and
one case of ammunition, were sealed and taken away. Professor Roerich, in his book,
*Altai-Himalaya*, has given a detailed description of the ridiculous and
fruitless search.

We decided to leave Khotan at once and go to Kashgar in order to negotiate by wire with
the Governor-General for permission to proceed with our work. We also desired the return
of our firearms, without which we could not attempt to cross the brigand-infested
regions of the interior of China. The authorities gave their silent assent and we hired
a camel caravan to carry our baggage to Kashgar. Once more the courtyard of the house
and garden were filled with men and kneeling camels—a welcome sight to every explorer.

On January 1 everything was ready for the start, when suddenly an official from the
Tao-t'ai arrived and coolly informed us, "The Tao-t'ai orders you to go to
Tun-huang in Kansu and not through Kashgar." We tried to argue, pointing out the
fact that our only firearms had been seized, that money orders were waiting for us at
the Chinese post office in Kashgar, that we were expecting answers to our cables. All
our words were of no avail, the man only repeated one and the same sentence, "Ma
Ta-jen changed his mind, and orders your expedition to proceed through the desert to
Tun-huang." He added, however, that we should go and speak to the Tao-t'ai
personally. And so we went. A long and tedious conference followed, during which we
persistently tried to obtain a written statement explaining the Tao-t'ai's
actions. We sat at a small table facing the Tao-t'ai and could see his soldiers
behind him making grimaces and pointing their fingers at the Tao-t'ai's head.

The Tao-t'ai was adamant in his decision to keep us in Khotan. It is difficult to
say what had influenced his change of attitude. Some said that he was possessed by the
spirit of the murdered Ti-t'ai of Kashgar and no longer could control himself.
Others repeated the story that someone had sowed mistrust in the Tao-t'ai's
mind. Whatever it might be, it was clear that the situation was a very serious one and
that we had to find a solution.

We returned to our headquarters and drafted a letter to the Consul in Kashgar, informing
him of the situation and requesting him to communicate with the Governor-General in
Urumchi. From now on, we received frequent visits from Mr. Chang, magistrate of Khotan.
Each day he had another astounding telegram to produce, ordering our immediate arrest
and deportation. It so happened that every time he came we were able to confront him
with a letter from Major Gillan or a telegram from America. Friends were acting to help
us leave Khotan.

Our days were spent either working at the headquarters or negotiating with local
authorities. These negotiations occupied most of the time, for each visit of the
Governor or the magistrate meant five or six hours of continuous conversation.

On January 20 we received a welcome letter from Major Gillan, notifying us that
following his efforts the Governor-General had sent immediate orders for our release
from Khotan. This was a piece of welcome news and all in the expedition headquarters
rejoiced at the prospect of a march to Kashgar.

On the evening of the same day, we received the visit of our friend Khudai Berdi Bai,
who brought the news that a letter had been received from Urumchi with permission to
travel to Kashgar. This was an unprecedented case—that an order from the
Governor-General should be announced through a private person. The Governor "lost
face" and could not deliver the order personally or through the magistrate. The
authorities kept silent. Only the commander of the garrison and the old
*amban* sent us their visiting cards with good wishes for our trip to Kashgar. A
military officer with the rank of *shao-wei* or lieutenant came and inquired
about the day of our departure. He was ordered to furnish a guard of mounted soldiers to
accompany us to Yarkend. The Chinese seemed uneasy, and somehow conscious of the wrong
committed toward the expedition. The actions of the local Khotan authorities had almost
completely prevented us from carrying out our plans.

We hurried with our preparations. Most of the baggage had been packed long ago. We now
only needed to engage a trustworthy caravan-*bashi*. Khudai Berdi Bai recommended
us to Temur Bai, a wealthy caravaneer owning many horse caravans transporting goods
between Khotan and Leh. Temur Bai undertook to furnish us with seventy-four pack horses
for six Chinese dollars each, with the understanding that we should reach Kashgar on the
fourteenth day. Besides pack animals we were obliged to hire two Chinese carriages or
*ma-fa* at twenty-five dollars for the journey. In one of the carriages our
Chinese interpreter Ts'ai had to travel, together with a case of firearms, which
were returned to us sealed on the eve of our departure. Poor Ts'ai had taken to
opium smoking, no doubt depressed by the insulting attitude of the local officials. The
aged man was full of his old-time dignity and complained bitterly against the revolting
methods of the local administration. As a result of the opium, he was so weak that he
could not keep himself in the saddle and had to travel in the carriage. He was careful
to conceal his habit and smoked only in the dark of the night.

In the second carriage our Tibetan mastiff, Tumbal, traveled in charge of a servant.

The three months of detention came to an end and we were looking forward to new regions.
Our courtyard was filled with friendly Chang-t'ou who came to say goodbye to the
expedition. During our three months' detention we had made many trusted friends; it
is a pleasure to express here our gratitude to all who assisted the expedition during
the difficult winter days in Khotan.