Title: Journey to Lhasa and Central Tibet
Author: Das, Sarat Chandra
Language: English
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TIBET ***



                                JOURNEY
                                   TO
                        LHASA AND CENTRAL TIBET.


                                   BY
                       SARAT CHANDRA DAS, C.I.E.,
                   Of the Bengal Educational Service,
              Member of the Asiatic Society, Bengal, etc.

                               EDITED BY
                        THE HON. W. W. ROCKHILL.


                                LONDON:
                     JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
                                 1902.



INTRODUCTION.


Sarat Chandra Das was born in the town of Chittagong, in Eastern
Bengal, in 1849, in a Hindu family of the vaidya, or medical caste. He
received his education in the Presidency College at Calcutta, where he
became favourably known to Sir Alfred Croft, the present Director of
Public Instruction of Bengal, who ever since has been his friend and
guide in his geographical and literary work, and by whose
representations to the Indian Government it became possible for him to
perform his important journeys into Tibet.

While still in the engineering department of the college he was
appointed in 1874 head master of the Bhutia Boarding School, just
opened at Darjiling by order of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, Sir
George Campbell. Sarat Chandra at once applied himself with
characteristic energy to the study of the Tibetan language, and
established friendly relations with the Raja of Sikkim and many of the
leading lamas in that country, to which he made several short trips in
the succeeding years.

In 1878, lama Ugyen-gyatso, who was attached to his school as Tibetan
teacher, was sent to Tashilhunpo and Lhasa with tribute from his
monastery, and advantage was taken of this opportunity to ascertain
whether permission could not be obtained from the Tibetan authorities
for Sarat Chandra to visit Tibet. The lama was so fortunate as to
obtain from the Prime Minister of the Panchen rinpoche of Tashilhunpo
an invitation for Sarat Chandra to visit that great centre of lamaist
learning, of which George Bogle and Samuel Turner have left us such
interesting descriptions; and, so as further to insure his safety and
justify his presence in the country in the eyes of the suspicious lamas
and Chinese, the Minister had the Babu’s name entered as a student of
theology in the Grand Monastery of that place. A passport was also
brought Sarat Chandra by the lama, issued to him by the Prime Minister,
by which a choice of roads to enter Tibet was given him, and his safe
conduct insured to Shigatse.

Armed with these credentials, Sarat Chandra set out for Tashilhunpo in
June, 1879, accompanied by lama Ugyen-gyatso, and there he remained for
nearly six months, the guest of the Prime Minister, with whose
assistance he was able to make a careful examination of the rich
collections of books in the great libraries of the convent, bringing
back with him to India a large and valuable collection of works in
Sanskrit and Tibetan. He also explored during this journey the country
north and north-east of Kanchanjinga, of which nothing was previously
known, noting with great care observations of bearing and distances.
Not the least valuable result of this journey was, however, the
friendly relations which the traveller was able to establish with the
liberal and powerful Prime Minister, who, deeply interested in western
civilization and its wonderful discoveries, of which he had learned
much from the mouth of Sarat Chandra, requested him to come back again
to Tashilhunpo, to instruct him further in the wonders of the west.

An account of this first journey was printed by the Bengal Government
some time after the author’s return, with a prefatory note by the
traveller’s friend, Sir Alfred Croft. As the route therein described is
the same as that followed by the traveller in his second and more
extended journey of 1881–82, and as the results of his studies in Tibet
in 1879, as shown in this report, bear nearly exclusively on historical
and religious subjects, it has been deemed advisable to omit it from
the present publication, embodying in footnotes all such details as
have been found in it bearing on the geography and ethnology of Tibet,
and which are not in the later and fuller report.

The year 1880 was passed by Sarat Chandra at his home in Darjiling,
working on papers on the history, religion, ethnology, and folk-lore of
Tibet, drawn from the data collected during his journey. These papers,
most of them of great value to Oriental students, have since appeared
in the Journal of the Bengal Asiatic Society and in that of the
Buddhist Text Society of India, which Sarat Chandra founded in 1892,
and of which he has since remained the secretary.

In November, 1881, in fulfilment of the promise previously made to the
Prime Minister of the Panchen rinpoche, Sarat Chandra started on his
second journey to Tibet, again accompanied by Ugyen-gyatso, who acted
as secretary, collector, and surveyor, though much of the later work,
including the extremely important survey of Lake Palti (Yamdo tso), was
done by the traveller himself. Sarat Chandra again established his
headquarters at Tashilhunpo, whence he made various excursions along
both banks of the great Tsangpo, from Sakya in the west to Samye and
Tse-tang in the east. He was also so fortunate as to be able to make a
short visit to Lhasa, which had only been done twice by native
explorers prior to his time, once in 1866 by Nain Singh, and again in
1880 by Kishen Singh, the latter making a detailed map of the whole
city and its environs. He was present at an audience of the Tale lama,
and visited a number of the important monuments of the city; but for
various reasons, especially of a prudential nature, he was prevented
from seeing many places of great interest in and around the city; but
his valuable notes are a most important addition to the descriptions
left us by previous travellers.

After this brief visit to the capital of Tibet, Sarat Chandra explored
the valley of the Yalung, where Tibetan civilization is said to have
first made its appearance, gathering everywhere, with the usual
thoroughness which distinguishes his work, valuable information
concerning each locality traversed. In January, 1883, he re-entered
India after an absence of about fourteen months.

The report of this journey was printed in two separate publications by
order of the Government of Bengal. They are entitled, “Narrative of a
Journey to Lhasa,” and “Narrative of a Journey Round Lake Palti
(Yamdok), and in Lhokha, Yarlung, and Sakya.” For various reasons these
reports were kept as strictly confidential documents by the Indian
Government until about 1890, when selections from them, bearing
exclusively upon the ethnology of Tibet, however, appeared in an
article in the July number of the Contemporary Review, and five years
later further extracts from them were published in the August number of
the Nineteenth Century. It is these reports which, with only such
slight modifications as have seemed absolutely necessary to make the
narrative connected, are published in the present volume.

In 1885, when the Government of India contemplated sending a mission to
Tibet, and the late Honourable Colman Macauley was sent by it to Peking
to obtain the necessary authorization of the Chinese Government to the
projected embassy, Sarat Chandra accompanied him to the Chinese
capital, where he remained several months in the early part of the
year. It was during this visit to Peking that I became acquainted with
the Babu, to whom I felt strongly drawn by my lifelong interest in
Tibetan studies. Sarat Chandra lived, while at Peking, in the lamasery
outside the An-ting gate, known as the Hsi Huang ssu, and in which all
Tibetan traders stop when at Peking. He wore the dress common to lamas
in China, and was always called the “Ka-che lama,” or “the lama from
Kashmir.” His knowledge of Tibetan, his extensive travels, and his
courteous manners gained for him the friendship of many of the lamas,
among others of the Chang-chia Hutuketu, the Metropolitan of the lama
church in China. Had the mission ever been sent to Tibet, it was
understood that Sarat Chandra was to accompany it, and he would have
rendered it valuable service; but the project was abandoned, and since
then the Babu has bent all his energies to the publication of Tibetan
texts and to the preparation of other works on Buddhism while living in
Darjiling, where he holds the position of Tibetan translator to the
Government of Bengal.

The services he rendered Mr. Macauley while in Peking were deemed,
however, of such value by the Indian Government, that on his return to
Bengal he was given the title of Rai Bahadur, and created a Companion
of the Order of the Indian Empire, and in 1887 the Royal Geographical
Society awarded him the “Back Premium” for his geographical researches.

The amount of literary work accomplished by Sarat Chandra since his
return from Tibet in 1883 is enormous in bulk, and its value to
students cannot be over-estimated. He brought back with him from his
travels over two hundred volumes, manuscripts or block-prints, obtained
from the great libraries in Tibet, a number of them in Sanskrit, and
for many centuries past lost in India. From these sources he has drawn
for the preparation of the valuable papers which he has since
published, a list of which would occupy several pages. Besides a large
number of translations into English of Tibetan texts, he has edited in
Sanskrit for the ‘Bibliotheca Indica’ Kshemendra’s poem, entitled
“Avadana Kalpalata,” which he was so fortunate as to discover in Lhasa,
and in Tibetan an historical work of great value, another giving the
history of the pre-Buddhist or Bon religion of Tibet, a very valuable
native grammatical work, and others too numerous to mention. He is now
engaged, and has well on through the press, a Tibetan-English
dictionary, which, he tells me, will be of about two thousand pages,
exclusive of a Sanskrit-English appendix of Buddhist terms.

This brief notice of Sarat Chandra’s literary work will suffice,
however, to show that his labours in this field are as important as
those which he has rendered to geography. Personally, I am under a
lasting debt of gratitude to him for the valuable information which he
gave me while in Peking, and which was later on of great use to me
during my explorations in Tibet, and I hold myself particularly
fortunate in having been chosen by the Royal Geographical Society to
edit his reports, as it is a means of publicly expressing my
indebtedness to him, and also, I trust, of helping him to take the
place he so justly deserves beside Csoma de Kőrös, as one of the
greatest pioneers of exploration and discovery in Tibet.

This introductory note would not be complete if further reference were
not made to the Babu’s faithful companion and assistant in his two
journeys to Tibet, lama Ugyen-gyatso. The lama, who is a Tibetan from
Sikkim and connected with the reigning family of that State, was born
in 1851 at Yangang, and at the age of ten entered the lamasery of
Pema-yangtse, where he took the usual course of monastic studies for
twelve years. In 1873 he visited, for the first time, Darjiling in the
suite of the Raja of Sikkim, and a little later on in the same year he
was designated by that Prince, and at the request of the
Deputy-Commissioner, Mr. Edgar, to fill the post of Tibetan teacher at
the Bhutia school at Darjiling, which it was proposed to open. For a
time the lama was employed in the office of the Deputy-Commissioner,
and accompanied that officer on a visit to Sikkim. In 1874 he entered
upon his duties as teacher in the school, and continued there until
1878, when he went to Tibet, as previously noted, to bear tribute from
his lamasery to the heads of the church. During the lama’s residence at
Darjiling he had been instructed in the use of such surveying
instruments as it is customary for the trans-frontier surveyors to use,
and the accurate work which he did during his various journeys bears
witness to the thoroughness with which he was instructed and to his own
ability. From this journey of 1878, the lama brought back with him the
passport which enabled Chandra Das to make his two journeys to Tibet,
in both of which he accompanied him, rendering him everywhere true and
valuable service.

The discovery by Sarat Chandra in 1882 of the true dimensions and shape
of Lake Palti, [1] seemed to Sir Alfred Croft so important that in
June, 1883, he despatched the lama to cover the same ground in order to
check off, verify, and complete the survey of the Babu. This he
successfully did, adding only to the latter’s work a small portion to
the south-east of the lake, but establishing the great accuracy of the
previous survey. He also explored the Lhobrak (Manas) valley, and again
visited Lhasa, returning to India by way of the Tang la and Chumbi
valley, and reaching Darjiling in December of the same year. A report
of this work was prepared by Colonel, now Sir Thomas, Holdich, and
appeared in the “Report of the Explorations in Sikkim, Bhutan, and
Tibet from 1856 to 1886,” which was published in 1889 by the
Trigonometrical Survey of India, and is frequently quoted in the notes
to the present narrative.

Since then the lama, whose services have been rewarded by the Indian
Government with the title of Rai Bahadur, a silver medal and a grant of
money, has been employed as chief Tibetan translator to Government,
serving in that capacity during the late Sikkim expedition, and has
also given valuable assistance to Sarat Chandra in editing Tibetan
texts.


W. W. ROCKHILL.

Block Island, U.S.A.,
July 27, 1899. [2]



CONTENTS.


    CHAPTER                                                     PAGE

    I.      Journey from Darjiling to Tashilhunpo                  1
    II.     Residence at Tashilhunpo                              45
    III.    Journey to Dongtse                                    69
    IV.     Residence at Tashilhunpo, and preparations for
            Journey to Lhasa                                     104
    V.      From Tashilhunpo to Yamdo Samding, and thence
            to Lhasa                                             122
    VI.     Residence at Lhasa                                   148
    VII.    Government of Lhasa—Customs, Festivals, etc.         171
    VIII.   Return to Tashilhunpo and Ugyen-gyatso’s visit
            to the Bonbo Sanctuary of Rigyal Sendar              195
    IX.     Funeral of the Panchen Rinpoche—Visit to the
            Great Lamasery of Samye and to Yarlung               213
    X.      Visit to Sakya and Return to India                   237
    XI.     Social Divisions—Marriage—Funerals—Medicine—
            Festivals                                            246



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

                                                                  PAGE

Portrait of Sarat Chandra Das                             Frontispiece
Map showing the Routes of Sarat Chandra Das through
  Sikkim and Tibet                                                   1
A Kirati Woman of the Limbu Tribe                                    9
Sikkim Soldier                                                      25
Sarat Chandra crossing the Donkhya Pass                             42
Town of Shigatse                                                    45
The Grand Monastery of Tashilhunpo                                  50
Khandro Ye-shes. Padma Sambhava. Lha-cham Mandara sa                58
Chang-sa Rgyab-pa, Wine-drinking concluding Wedding Ceremonies      73
Black-hat Dance (Shanag Cham)                                      115
A Lhacham, or Lady of Rank                                         120
Tibetan Nobleman                                                   125
Nam Tos-sras (Vaisravana), the Guardian King of the North          136
The Disposal of the Dead (by cutting the Corpse into pieces)       140
Plan of Lhasa                                                      149
Plan of the City of Lhasa                                          151
Potala, the Residence of the Dalai Lama, at Lhasa                  154
Paldan Lhamo (srimati-devi)                                        158
Cho-Khang, the Grand Temple of Buddha, at Lhasa                    160
Funeral Procession                                                 164
Potala, the Palace of the Grand Lama                               166
Lama delivering an Oracle                                          175
A Little Girl, daughter of a Tibetan Nobleman                      200
Picnic in a Grove                                                  201
Glaciers of Kanglachan Pass                                        215
River Zemu, Chatangla Pass                                         219
Glacial Lake and Moraines at the Source of the Zenni (?)           223
Cane Bridge on the Rungit River                                    229
Bridge at Bri, near Yangyang                                       233
Waterfall below Pachungri, between Gera-tang and Metang            239
Khamba Djongpon’s Encampment on a Moraine beyond Kangchan
  Jang Mountain                                                    243
Semarinu and adjoining Snowy Mountain                              249
Snow Mountains beyond Chattayla Pass                               253
Map of Tibet and the surrounding Regions                        At end



JOURNEY TO LHASA AND CENTRAL TIBET.


CHAPTER I.

JOURNEY FROM DARJILING TO TASHILHUNPO.


November 7, 1881.—On the night of my departure from Darjiling, [3] the
moon was shining brightly, though some dark clouds presaged a slight
fall of rain. Our eyes often turned with anxiety towards the
mountain-tops on the eastern outskirts of Nepal, to see if snow was
falling on them; and the fear of death in the snows and the hope of
overcoming the obstacles of nature alternated within me as I left my
home in Darjiling, soon to bid a long farewell to my native land, with
but faint hope that I would ever see it again.

I rode on silently, and, to my great relief, unnoticed by any one, save
one or two Bhutias on their way towards Darjiling, and in the stillness
of the night we could hear the songs of the workwomen of Takvar and the
music of their pipes and drums. Coming to the river, which was rather
broad at this season of the year, I met lama Ugyen-gyatso, who was
waiting to help me across. Three or four bamboos loosely laid over the
main stream enabled us to cross, though with some difficulty, and with
the help of an intelligent Bhutia attendant I was able to push on over
the narrow slippery path till half-past one, when I reached Gok, now a
deserted village, where, in place of the dozen shops and pretty
Buddhist shrine which formerly marked the place, I found but a cow-shed
where a Nepali was snoring fast asleep. It was here that the up-country
grain-sellers used to come to buy large quantities of Indian corn and
cardamom seed to resell in the Darjiling bazar.

Spreading our rugs in the long grass near the cow-shed, we tried to
rest for a while; but what with the unevenness of the ground, insects
creeping over me, the prickly points of brambles and weeds penetrating
the thin rug on which I lay, and a shower of rain which wetted us
through, we could get no sleep, so we started again at four in the
morning. The path, hardly a foot broad, was choked with weeds and long
grass. Lighting my lantern, I followed Phurchung, my shot-gun tied
across the top of the load he carried, and with many a slip and tumble
we reached the valley of the Rummam at daybreak.

November 8.—The Rummam, one of the principal feeders of the Great
Rungit, rises in the Singli mountains, and forms the boundary between
British territory and independent Sikkim on the north-west, all the
country to the right (south) of it belonging to the former Government.
We found it a raging torrent, and only spanned by a light footbridge of
bamboo poles resting on a huge boulder in the middle of the stream, and
held down by rocks. The Lepchas and Limbus catch fish, sometimes of
considerable size, in the cold season in the pools in the river-bed,
which the former sell in the Darjiling bazar. Sal trees were abundant,
and on the hill-slopes we saw cardamom and cotton now ready to be
picked. On the larger patches of cultivation, guards were stationed in
bamboo watch-houses to scare away the monkeys and bears with bamboo
clappers. I was told that a large species of monkeys, besides the small
variety of which we saw a few, are found in this valley, and that they
are a terror to the peasants and to solitary female travellers. [4] To
kill these the Lepchas use dogbane and other poisonous roots, which
they mix with cooked edible roots or rice.

On nearing the bridge, we fell in with some twenty men carrying oranges
to Darjiling, but I was fortunately able to pass by unnoticed. After a
short rest, during which I had some breakfast, and changed my Indian
dress for a Tibetan one, we resumed our journey uphill, leaving the
Mitogang road on our right. Antelope and wild goat abound hereabout,
but the villagers shoot but little: they are so poor that they have
hardly a dozen matchlocks among them all. Nepalese settlers are
numerous here, and I noticed some Brahmans and Chetris who live chiefly
by selling milk and butter. We passed several paddy fields made on
terraces along the hillsides, where ploughs drawn by bullocks were
used; but the Bhutias neither terrace the hillsides nor do they use
ploughs, but keep to their time-honoured implements, hoes and clubs
(in) of oak, by which they get but scanty returns. The Limbus [5] till
the ground for three consecutive years, and then leave it fallow for
three, when the weeds are cut and burnt, and it is again put under
cultivation.

After ascending several hills by steep paths, we came to the top of a
ridge marked by a mendong and a chorten, [6] and from whence a
picturesque view of the valley of Dhuramdien, dotted with numerous
houses, and of the surrounding country is obtained. This spot is called
Mani-dara by the Pahirias, and Chorten-gang by the Bhutias, both names
meaning “the ridge of the sacred stupa.” Here we halted by the side of
a rill, and purchased two bottles of murwa beer [7] and vegetables from
some Limbus.

November 9.—Our way led along an easy path by Limbu houses with
sheepfolds and pigsties in front of them, and around which a few goats
and cows were also seen. The Limbu fowls, by the way, are not so large
as those of the Bhutias. As I journeyed on we talked of some of the
Limbu [8] customs, the most remarkable of which is that of beating
drums on every trivial occasion. Every Limbu family, be it poor or
rich, possesses, as a rule, three or four tambourine-shaped drums,
which they beat on going out of or returning to their villages. The
wife or children beat them in honour of the husband when he goes out,
and the latter when he leaves the house.

Crossing the range we entered a richer country, as was evidenced by the
vegetation and the abundance of trees. We saw long canes growing
luxuriantly, and there was quite a large grove of plantation trees,
showing the warm climate the country enjoys.

November 10.—The sky was cloudy and the atmosphere filled with fog when
we set out. Along the banks of the streams we had to cross grew tall
pines and giant ferns, while thick brushwood, ferns and rattans lined
the banks, the water dashing down from the hill-tops in cascades.
Pushing our way through the dense forests of the Hi range, the sky
scarcely visible through the lofty oaks, pines and magnolias, we
reached after an hour’s hard ascent the Rishi chorten, near which is a
moss-covered mendong. The Hi La commences here, and from it one
commands an excellent view of South-Western Sikkim, including Tonglo
and Singli, and the hills of Darjiling. In the thickets roundabout were
to be seen the tracks of wild pigs, and the woods were alive with
monkeys which feed on acorns.

At about 1 p.m. we reached the top of the range, some 6000 feet above
the level of the sea. Crossing a number of brooks which empty into the
Rishi, we came to some cowsheds, where I would have liked to have
rested; but no rest was possible, for I could see the leeches [9]
spanning their length with swift but measured paces, making for me with
haste.

At 4 p.m. we commenced our descent from the top of the ridge, which is
marked by a lartsé [10]—here a bush of dwarf bamboos, with scraps of
red cloth tied to it, near which Phurchung uttered his lha sol, [11] or
invocation to the mountain deities. We halted for the night in a little
clearing in the jungle at the foot of a gigantic oak, a few miles above
the village of Lingcham. The giant nettle creeper here attains its
largest growth, some more than 100 feet long. The tree nettle also
abounds in this forest, and our servants found also the common nettle,
the tender leaves of which make excellent soup. [12]

November 11.—The sky was overcast, and there was rain and sunshine at
the same time, a phenomenon the Bhutias call metog-charpa, or “flowery
shower.” The village of Hi, by which we passed, contains several
Bhutia, Lepcha, and Limbu houses. [13] The latter people seem to be
prosperous; they cultivate rice on irrigated terraces, and use a plough
drawn by buffaloes. A few hundred yards above the River Kalai (also
called Kalhait) we saw cardamom patches carefully fenced. The Kalai
river, which we found rapid at even this season of the year, rises in
the Singli pass, and after a circuitous course of about 20 miles,
empties into the great Rungit near the foot of Tashiding hill. Villages
are numerous along the river for many miles; they are situated on
ridges, which look like lateral ribs of a range running on either side
of the Kalai from west to east, generally sending out southerly spurs.

The Kalai is overhung on both sides by lofty trees growing on steep
banks apparently inaccessible when looked at from the river bank. The
river is bridged by two long, stout bamboos resting on a huge boulder
in the middle of the stream, and weighted down with slabs of stone.

In the shallow part of the stream piles have been driven to hold bamboo
nets for capturing fish. This torrent is well known for its delicious
fish; and we saw growing by some of the Limbu houses the na-dag-shig,
[14] a tree, the leaves of which are used to poison fish which swarm in
the stagnant pools in the river.

There are five classes of priests among the Limbu people, who perform
their religious and secular ceremonies. They are called Phedangba,
Bijua, Dami, Baidang, and Srijanga. [15]

The Phedangba enjoy the privilege of conducting the religious
ceremonies, and of dealing in omens and fortune-telling. The Bijua are
trained to the Shamanic worship, of which fantastic dances are the
characteristic feature. The third order practice witchcraft
exclusively, and are said to be able to expel evil spirits through the
mouth. The fourth class, called Baidang, are physicians, the name
Baidang being undoubtedly derived from the Sanskrit Baidya. The fifth,
which is the most important of the five orders, has the exclusive
privilege of interpreting the religious books, and of studying
religious observances and rites. My informant, though a Srijanga,
combined in his person the qualifications of the other four orders;
hence his great reputation among the Limbus, who considered him endowed
with divine attributes.

Leaving the banks of the Kalai, we pushed on uphill through long grass
and reed thickets, where wild pigs were numerous and the porcupine
abounds. [16] The latter animal is said to do much harm to pulse and
radish fields, and destroys a great many of the wild yams on which the
people chiefly subsist. On ascending about 3000 feet above the Kalai
valley, we enjoyed distant views of Pema-yangtse, Yantang, Hi, Sakyang,
and other villages on the high flat ridges on either side of the Kalai
and Ratong rivers, and on our right was the village of Lingcham with
its orange groves and numerous murwa fields. We halted near a Limbu
house, and the coolies plucked wild onions (lagog) [17] growing in the
crevices of the rocks, with which they seasoned their curries. This
lagog, though smelling like the common garlic, is not half so strong,
and gives a peculiar flavour to meat. It is said to produce coughing.

November 12.—We continued to ascend by a hardly discernible trail,
passing patches of Indian corn and a few miserable Limbu houses: one
woman we saw was carrying a basketful of wild apricots. At 2 p.m. we
reached the top of the ridge, on the furthest extremity of which to our
right was the Sangnag Choiling (pronounced Changachelling) monastery,
while near the path we were following was an old moss-covered chorten.

Passing through dense woods of oaks and pines, and pushing our way
through thickets of tree-nettle and underbrush, we reached, after two
hours, the little village of Tale, where there are some twenty houses,
and around which some mares, buffaloes, pigs, and a large number of
cows were feeding. The inhabitants were anxious to get salt from us in
exchange for chang, [18] for the October fall of snow had prevented the
Yangpung salt dealers from reaching this place, and salt was in
consequence scarce; but we had to decline their offers, as we had no
more than we required ourselves. [19]

November 13.—Our way led us through the village of Tale to the Ringbi
river, a stream as rapid as the Kalai. There is a strong bamboo bridge
over it, but we crossed by some bamboos laid side by side where the
river was narrowest. To the north-west of the village, on a parallel
ridge trending northward from the same range of hills, is the village
of Nambura. We followed the stream up for 5 miles by a circuitous
trail, and then crossed over again to the right bank, a little below
Nambura. The path led along the side of a cliff, and we had great
difficulty in making our way along its slippery side, placing our feet
in fissures of rocks and holding fast by creepers and grass. Then,
following the course of the river, we ascended towards the village of
Ringbi, and looking back we saw Tale, Nambura, and many other villages
perched high up on the mountain sides several thousand feet above us.

Passing under a huge rock, below which the stream had cut gullies, we
crossed over by means of bamboos and wooden ladders. Looking up once I
saw some stuffed pheasants and a Tibetan shirt of red cloth hidden in a
fissure of the rock, evidently by some bird-shikaris. Birds of various
hues, especially several varieties of pheasants, abound in these woods,
which are frequented by shikaris who earn a livelihood by selling
stuffed birds at Darjiling.

A mile further on we came to the village of Ringbi, [20] situated in a
beautiful plain, behind which rose cragged rocks; to the north and east
the Ringbi river roared far down below us. The wild plantain, a
gigantic rattan, and numerous pines and oaks covered the hills on the
other side of the torrent. There are here a half-dozen houses inhabited
by Limbus, who raise rice, Indian corn, murwa, and other varieties of
millet.

As soon as Phurchung had laid his load on the ground, he ran off to the
house of an acquaintance to buy for me some bottles of beer, and
presently returned with three, of which he well knew one would be given
him. Our tent was pitched on the flat near the river, and my rugs being
spread, I stretched myself at my ease, forgetting the fatigues of the
journey. The servants had dispersed, some to collect firewood, some to
pick edible wild plants, others to buy vegetables for our evening
meal—nothing broke the silence save the sound of the rushing torrent
below. I slept soundly, my mind more occupied with the future than the
past.

November 14.—The morning was clear, the view on all sides superb, and,
though familiar with mountain scenery, my eye never tired of its wild
grandeur. We waited and waited for hours for Phurchung, whom I had sent
to Nambura to buy provisions; but, as he had not appeared by noon, we
had to give up all thoughts of travelling that day. In the afternoon he
made his appearance, loaded with rice, maize, murwa, eggs, vegetables,
etc., and leading a ewe, which he said had cost him Rs. 4. He was very
drunk, but conscious of his condition. He begged to be excused, and,
after numerous salams and lollings of the tongue after the Tibetan
fashion, he vanished from our sight.

We were asked by the Limbus to exchange salt, of which they stood much
in need, for tsuo, [21] a dyeing creeper which grows here in abundance,
and of which they had collected many large bundles; but again we had to
refuse.

Phurchung much regretted that one of his best friends among the Limbus
of this place had gone to a distant village to attend a marriage, for
he might have rendered great assistance in many ways.

The marriage customs of this people are very curious and interesting.
Some among them at the time of marriage consult astrologers. When a man
and a girl think of marrying, they meet, without consulting their
parents, at some place—a market, if there be one near—in order to sing
witty songs, in which test the man is required to excel his fair rival.
If he is beaten in this contest by the maiden whose hand he covets, he
runs away in deep shame at his defeat; but if he wins, he seizes her by
the hand and takes her to his home without further ceremony, but
usually accompanied by a female companion. If the man has had some
previous knowledge of the girl’s superior attainment in singing, he
sometimes bribes the maiden’s companion to declare him the winner in
the singing competition.

Another means of wife-winning is by courting her in the house of her
parents, to which free access is readily gained by presenting the
girl’s nearest relative living in the house with a pig’s carcass, a
present called in their language phudang. When the marriage ceremony
takes place, the bridegroom, if rich enough, kills a buffalo or a pig,
which is presented to the bride’s parents, a native coin fixed on its
forehead. Among the lower people, the parents of the bride seldom know
anything about the marriage till the return of the girl from her
captor’s house. Then the marriage ceremony takes place. The friends and
relatives assemble in some spacious courtyard, each bringing a present
of a basket of rice, a bottle of murwa or arrack. The bridegroom then
beats a drum, to the music of which the bride dances, outsiders also
taking part in the dance. This over, a Phedangba priest conducts
certain religious ceremonies beginning with the following mantra:
“According to the commands handed down to us from ancient times and the
doings of the patriarchs, we bind our son and daughter to-day in
marriage.”

As the priest repeats the formula, the bridegroom places his palm on
that of the bride, holding at the same time a cock, and she a hen,
which they afterwards hand over to the Phedangba. When the above
formula has been recited, the fowls’ throats are cut, and they are
thrown away for any one to pick up and keep, and the blood is collected
on a plantain leaf, and from it omens are drawn. In another leaf is
some vermilion paint, in which the bridegroom dips his middle finger,
which he passes across the forehead of the priest to the tip of the
bride’s nose. The bridegroom then says, “Henceforth, maiden, thou art
my wife;” and shouting repeatedly, “Maiden, thou art my wife,” he puts
a vermilion mark on her brow.

The following morning the priest invokes some friendly spirit, and says
to the newly married couple, “You two should henceforth live as husband
and wife as long as you remain on this earth;” to which the parties
suitably reply, “We will do as you command.” Unless this period of a
lifetime is mentioned, the marriage is held to be unlucky; and to make
it fortunate further ceremonies, which open new sources of profit for
the priest, are considered necessary.

At the marriage feast, where first murwa is served to each guest, the
meat is generally pork, and finally a dish of rice is presented to
every one of the party.

When the marriage ceremony is over, the bride, released from her
captor’s hands for the first time, returns to her parents, who are
supposed to have been in ignorance of the previous proceedings. Two or
three days after her return comes a go-between, or parmi, [22] to
settle differences with the bride’s parents. He brings, as a rule,
three things—a bottle of arrack, the carcass of a pig, and a silver
coin, as presents to the bride’s parents. Just as he is about to make
them the presents, they are bound to fly into a passion and threaten to
beat him, whereupon he entreats them not to do so, and tries to pacify
them with the present of another rupee. Then they ask him in an angry
tone, “Why did you steal away our daughter?” and such-like questions.
When their anger has subsided, he pays the price of the bride, which,
according to the wealth of the groom, varies from Rs. 10 to Rs. 120, or
the equivalent; but in all cases a pig is an indispensable part of the
price. Then a further present of usually Rs. 12, or its equivalent, is
made to the soffas (subahs) and village headmen.

This present is known in Limbu as turayimbag, meaning satisfaction to
the parents for stealing their daughter; and though it is really due to
the bride’s parents, it is nowadays appropriated by the village
officials.

Like the Tibetans, the Limbus present white cotton khatag to all who
are interested in the marriage. When the time comes for delivering up
the bride to the parmi, the parents must say, “Oh, our daughter is
lost! She is not to be found! Some one must go and find her!” Then a
couple more silver coins are paid, and one of the relatives discovers
the lost bride, who has usually hidden herself in the storeroom, and
she is handed over to the parmi. Nowadays, however, it is more common
for the bride to come forth of herself as soon as the money has been
paid, but not before. [23]

November 15.—The villagers tried to dissuade us from attempting to
cross the passes where the paths were hidden by the snow, saying that
it would be more convenient to stay at Ringbi, where provisions were
easily procurable. If I remained here, however, various reports would
be spread to prejudice the frontier guards of Tibet against us, and we
would, moreover, be unable to ascertain when the snow should have
hardened sufficiently to admit of our setting out on our journey, as
the passes were three or four days’ march from the village. We
determined to try the Yampung la, which still remained free from snow.
Our coolies gave the villagers to understand that we shikaris (for
Phurchung, with his fowling-piece and load of cartridges, was enabled
to pass us off as such) had very little to do with the passes, except
for going to Kangpa-chan, where game was more abundant: if we failed
entering Namga-tsal, we should most probably return by Jongri to
Darjiling.

We passed behind the village, where there are some tall cypresses and a
solitary juniper tree, which the people erroneously call chandan, or
sandal wood. [24] A short distance from the village we passed the road
leading to Dechan phug, “the cavern of bliss,” a huge rock, the hollow
in which is haunted by numerous demons and evil spirits. Now and then
we saw Limbus making bamboo mats or collecting osiers to thatch their
houses. The road along the river was easy, the rills falling into it
bridged, and the steep banks carefully crossed by stone dykes, while
steps were cut in the rocks where necessary.

By one o’clock we reached Paongtang, where, in a wretched shed for
travellers (dong-khang), we made our camp. A light rain was falling, so
we had to cook our food in the miserable shed, where we could not stand
erect, where ants and centipedes were creeping over everything, and the
smoke and dust raised by the bellows nearly suffocated us. Though we
had a tent, the obstinacy of my servants compelled me to forego the
comfort it afforded, for to them the dong-khang was a comfortable
dwelling, and they insisted that I should enjoy it too.

Phurchung bought some milk, cheese, murwa, and excellent fish from one
of the neighbouring herdsmen, a cousin of his; and when we had
refreshed ourselves with the beer, we sat listening to two of our
companions, Jordan and Tonzang, as they sang and declaimed over their
drink. Though these men carried our loads, they were men of much
respectability in their own country, and had been induced to do menial
work only to oblige me, as I did not care to trust outsiders with the
secret of my movements. I amused myself listening to Jordan, and really
wondered that even among the uncivilized dwellers of the hills wine
could inspire such eloquence. Among the volleys of his eloquence were
quotations from a book called ‘Rinchen Tenwa,’ or ‘The Precious
Rosary.’


    “All here assembled, pray attend.

    “The eagle is the king of birds; when he rises, all rise.

    “The lion is the king of beasts; when he leaps, all leap.

    “He who drinks is the prince of speech; when he speaks, all hear.”


Here Jordan’s analogy broke down, for he should have said, “When he
speaks, all speak;” but as his were quotations, he could take no
liberties with the text. [25]

November 16.—After having started Jordan and Tonzang to Darjiling with
letters and my Indian clothing, we resumed our journey, and after a
mile along the course of the Ringbi we climbed the Lungmo la, which is
thickly covered with dwarf bamboos and mossy oaks of immense size.

At 2 p.m. we came to Chonjom, the junction of the two head-streams of
the Ringbi, where there is a well-made bridge across the river with
strong boulder-made buttresses; its bed is here covered with thick
green moss. A little later on we halted at a place called Keta, in the
midst of dark woods, the abode of bears, pigs, and Sikkim leopards. As
I had sent my tent back, we had to make a shelter against the
inclemency of the weather by a contrivance made with our bed-clothes,
and on the branches of a neighbouring tree we hung our meat and fish,
which attracted owls and mice during the night.

November 17.—Our hearts quaked as we continued our way through the
dense wood and thick undergrowth, for a man-eater was reported to have
killed two Nepalese wood-cutters in the Singli la. The year before last
a tiger came up to Jongri, where it killed a dozen yaks, and we feared
lest now it might have come back to make havoc on the Yampung yaks.
While crossing one of the numerous fences dividing different pieces of
property, we found a pheasant caught by the neck in a hair-trap. The
way was steep and stony, and the cold piercing.

At noon we reached the zone of rhododendrons, and, passing through the
pines, where we startled pheasants and some other birds of beautiful
plumage, we came to a snow-covered ridge. Then we began the ascent of a
steep spur, where we were told the Lepcha troops of Sikkim had repelled
the Gurkha invaders, shooting their arrows at them, and then rolling
rocks down on the enemy. After this difficult piece of road, the ascent
became more gradual and easier. On the way we saw some beehives, which
differ in shape from those of the plains, being like great white fungi
projecting from the rock.

At 2 p.m. we reached the Dok of Yampung, situated on the lee side of
the range. Long mendong mark the approach to the village, and flying
flags show the whereabouts of the yak-sheds and houses; patches of snow
and ice glistening in the sun gave, from a distance, a fine appearance
to the village, but, on approaching, the beauty vanished, as we
perceived the forlorn and deserted condition of the place. Not a living
being, not a yak, nor a dog, only some hungry crows perched on the
flag-poles and the roofs. The village is composed of a dozen houses
built very rudely of loose stone slabs, the roofs made of long pine
planks kept in their places by stones. The larger houses were locked
up, and the doors of those without locks were sealed by strings. Heaps
of red dye-creepers were in every house, which the people exchange for
salt brought here from Eastern Nepal in the summer months and in
November after the first snows. The Limbus and Lepchas of Western
Sikkim come here annually to buy salt, wool, tea, and Tibetan
earthenware, in exchange for murwa, maize, dye-creepers, and other
little commodities of the Darjiling bazar.

November 18.—The Yampung la, though not lofty, presented much
difficulty in the ascent, the vegetation on its sides not so luxuriant
as that on the Jongri la, which is nearly of equal height. To the north
the range skirts the snows of the famous Kangchan, the dreaded Khumba
Karna of the hillmen. The eye, on all sides but the east, met only
snow, and as I descended to the south-western flank of the Du la,
“Demon Mount,” I looked down towards the deep gorge through which the
Ringbi leaps with ceaseless roar. The snow-streams from the Yampung la
flow into a lake some half-mile in circumference, called Tama chu, on
account of its crescent shape; the Nepalese call it Lampokri.

With the Du la the difficulties of the ascent began. Ugyen complained
of headache and shortness of breath, and said he was sick with la dug
(mountain-sickness); and to add to our troubles, such a gale was
blowing that I was thrown to the ground several times. One of the
coolies fell helpless to the ground, his feet frost-bitten. I gave him
my shoes and Kabul socks, putting on myself a new pair of Tibetan
boots. The direct way to Gumo tang was blocked with snow, so we had to
make a detour by the northern and western flanks of the pass. The snow
was frozen, and walking became very dangerous. I made my way as best I
could, using both hands and feet. The gorge along which we advanced was
so deep that the eye tired of following its windings. The snows from
the pass supply the headwater of the Yong-dso chu, which runs past the
Jongri (la). The descent was even more dangerous than the ascent; my
coolies, used to such work, had soon left me far behind.

Leaving the snows of the Du la, we again came in sight of deep gorges
filled with pines, with here and there bits of pasture-land overhung by
rugged cliffs.

Again we had to cross a spur, beyond which lay Gumo tang, our next
halting-place, in a deep gorge, some 2000 feet below us. We followed a
glacier, and by six in the evening I reached the beautifully wooded
Gumo tang gorge, and found it flooded by a torrent coming from the
melting snows to the north-east. On the other side of the precipice
which overhangs Gumo tang is Lachmi pokri, “The Lake of Fortune,” said
to contain gold and precious stones. It is a mile in circumference,
deep black in colour, and in its depths are water-elephants, the people
say.

November 19.—Crossing a stream, with water knee-deep, flowing eastward
to feed the Ratong, we began the ascent of the Bogto la. Firs and
junipers of various species overhung our way, which lay along the sides
of a dry, glacial channel, with a stream flowing down it, and débris on
either side. There are two tracks from here leading to the only shed on
the slope of the Bogto; one follows the course of the stream which
comes down from the Tso-nag lake, and is usually taken by the Yampung
herdmen and the salt traders from Yangma; but the one we followed is
not liked by them, as there grows along it a plant called Dug shing,
[26] a deadly poison if eaten by yaks or sheep. Pheasants were feeding
on the rhododendron berries, and we also saw herds of wild sheep; but
before we reached the summit the rhododendrons and junipers
disappeared, and we only saw now and then some lichens or moss-like
vegetation in the clefts of the rocks. [27]

Reduced for the last few days to a miserable diet of rice and tea, we
were but ill prepared to go through the exertion of climbing up to such
high altitudes. I pushed on for half a mile, my head aching violently
and with continual retching; I finally fell to the ground, and lay
there breathless and utterly exhausted. The coolies suffered even more
than I, for while I had only my heavy clothing to carry, they had their
loads besides. The wind was piercingly cold, and clouds scudded across
the sky. One of the men prepared some tea; I drank a little, but I had
no desire for food, though Phurchung insisted on my eating a frozen egg
and a little dried fruit. Wrapped in all my blankets, I lay prostrate,
my feet resting against one of the loads to prevent me rolling into the
abyss. I passed the night in a troubled sleep, while close by me my
companions were snoring in deep slumber.

November 20.—The sky was overcast and a gentle breeze was blowing, and
the guide, who saw signs of a snowstorm, took up his load reluctantly,
after chanting some mantras, and, leaving this dreadful place, called
the Noga slope, we began the ascent of the pass.

A few hundred yards of ascent brought us to the Tso-nag tso, a lakelet
now frozen to the bottom, of oval shape, and about 400 yards long and
200 broad; passing this we crossed from ridge to ridge, each covered
with sheets of ice, the scenery of the wildest grandeur, the solitude
appalling, no sound of water, not even the fall of an occasional
avalanche was heard, no one spoke, all were intent on making their way
over the slippery surface.

After a mile ascent we reached another frozen lake. The guide ran
forward, and, collecting some snow and pieces of ice, he sprinkled them
across the lake to show us the path and prevent us from slipping. This
lakelet, of about the same size as the one just referred to, is held in
the sacred books of the Sikkimese to be an object of special sanctity.
It is called Tso dom-dongma, “The Lake of Peacock’s Spots,” and the eye
of the enchanted devotee can see something like spots in the bubbles in
the icy sheets of the lake. The glorious peak of Chum-bok la rose right
before us. Clouds now swept swiftly across the sun, and within half an
hour the whole vault of heaven was hidden from our view. Courage then
failed our hitherto intrepid guide. “Why proceed further up, sir?” said
he. “Death awaits us in this desolate place. One hour more and we shall
be gone.” “What do you mean by this, Phurchung?” said I. “Where see you
death?” “Sir, look at the sky; those clouds will shortly fall in heavy
snow on us, from which no human means can enable us to escape. If you
escape the snows on this side of the path, you cannot do so on the
other.” He trembled and looked pale and depressed. He cried, and said,
“Oh, sir, we pon-yog [master and servant] will perish if we go not back
to Bogto. The skies are ominous, and tell you to return towards the
Bogto la.” He repeated his entreaties with childish tears, but in vain.
I told him and the coolies that I was determined not to retrace a
single step, and that all his entreaties were to no purpose. In an
hour’s time we could scarcely reach Bogto, and if the snow began
falling in the mean time, we could hardly escape; besides, such a
course would not lessen our troubles, as we should have the risk of
recrossing the distance we had now travelled over. There might be a
second snowfall, when we should again have to turn back.

Ceding finally to my arguments, Phurchung pushed forward. I took the
lead, and with fresh energy clambered on, till after an hour we stood
on the pass. The skies had cleared up, the azure heavens again smiled
on us, and the welcome reappearance of the brilliant sun dispelled all
our fears. To our left was Sundub phug, to the right the towering
pinnacles of Kangla jang-ma, while the rounded form of the lofty
Lap-chyi in the Shar-Khambu district of Nepal rose above the haze. The
valley of the Chum-bok la is called Chu lonkyok, “The Water-spoon,”
because it receives the waters of the surrounding mountains in a
spoon-like basin.

I had hardly time to congratulate myself on having reached the summit,
when our guide, now smiling, put his arms in the straps (nambo) of his
load, and uttering the usual prayer (lha sol), resumed his journey. The
descent was fraught with immense dangers, for it lay through trackless
snows. The guide sounded the snow everywhere for a path, and not
finding one, he took a circuitous direction which seemed practicable to
his experienced eye.

After walking about an hour we found we had made but little progress,
when we came on the tracks of a Tibetan long-tailed leopard (sah). [28]
I wondered how the animal had been able to walk along over the soft
snow without ever sinking in it, but my men explained this by
attributing supernatural powers to this beast, which they said was
indeed the goblin of leopards. An hour’s struggle in the snow exhausted
my strength, and I could proceed no further. The guide opened the loads
and repacked them, putting all the breakable objects in one, all the
clothing and provisions in the other. The latter he threw down the
slope, and it ploughed a path, down which I followed till the load
brought up against a rock. Then I let myself slide down the
half-hardened snow, guiding myself with my elbows so as to escape any
crevasse across my path.

By 3.30 p.m. we had descended so far in the gorge of Chu lonkyok that
patches of grass showed here and there amidst the snow, and I saw an
alpine shrub called upala, [29] with large pink leaves at the top like
those of the water-lily, waved in the wind, which had again begun to
blow. The coolies now pushed rapidly ahead, leaving me far behind, but
the gradual reappearance of grass, rhododendrons, and juniper bushes
revived my spirits as I walked on, frequently halting to catch my
breath. Continuing down the gorge through rhododendrons, junipers, and
several species of prickly, sweet-scented shrubs, we finally reached,
about dark, a great boulder, underneath which we camped. In front of it
ran a brook about four feet wide, said to be the head-stream of the
famous Kabili of Nepal, which receives the waters from the Chum-bok and
the Semarum mountains.

November 21.—Though I still felt, when I awakened, greatly exhausted, I
had to start without breakfast, as the coolies had left early, fearing
lest the fine morning might be followed by a bad afternoon. Dressed
very lightly in order to be able to climb more easily, I set out,
following in Phurchung’s footsteps. The trail at first presented no
great difficulty, though it was continually up and down over mountain
ridges five or six hundred feet high; but our previous day’s experience
made us think little of such a road. After a few miles we reached a
kind of gateway lying between two rocky cliffs, where began the region
of scanty vegetation that invariably is found just below the snow-line.
Here we halted for a while and drank some tea; then, resuming our
journey, we reached the summit of Semarum after a couple of hours of
most trying climbing over ice and melting snow. The pass is protected
to the south and west by a very rugged cliff resembling the outspread
wings of an eagle both in colour and shape, and inspired me with a
strange feeling of dread. Sitting on the summit of the pass, I enjoyed,
though tired and unwell, the grandeur and sublimity of the scene. No
poet could adequately describe Nature’s exploits in this part of the
world, no pencil could delineate these romantic scenes.

Legend has it that many years ago, on this very pass, a certain cunning
and designing Limbu of Tambur Khola concealed under the rocks a red
earthen jar filled with charcoal, with the object of establishing his
heirs’ right over the whole easternmost part of Nepal, called Yangoro,
which includes Singli la, and in his will he made mention of this
bequest. A few years later hostilities broke out between the Limbus of
Tambur Khola and Yangoro, which lasted for nearly twelve years, during
which time the Gurung were the chief sufferers. Pasturing their cattle
on the disputed land, both parties stole them as a rent for the right
of pasture. Finally the Chambisi Rajah, who ruled at Bhatgaong, settled
the dispute in favour of the Yangoro Limbus, the trick of the Tambur
Khola Limbus having been found out.

From the Semarum pass I saw the Choma Kankar, or “Lord of Snows,” the
famous sacred mountain of the Buddhists which overhangs Lap-chyi, the
highest of its three peaks, dome-shaped, the two others standing side
by side, of truncated cone shape; then to the north-west of these
appeared the Shar Khambu Mountains, half lost in the rising mist; to
the west, beyond the great chasm formed by the Tambur valley, were the
valleys of Feylep, Yalung, Dhunkota, all indistinct in the general
haze.

Phurchung endeavoured in vain to find a way down through the deep snow
which everywhere covered the ground, and finally we had to slide down
through the snow for several hundred feet; and then, finding a
foothold, we waded on, dragging the loads behind us. I saw tracks of
rabbits, [30] snow-leopards, and a species of bird called chamdang,
probably the snow-pheasant. After a little while we could advance no
further down the slope, so Phurchung made a detour over a ridge to our
right, its summit a huge bare rock some forty to fifty feet high. From
this we descended with great difficulty, throwing the loads down ahead
of us and sliding down ourselves in the deep, soft snow.

By 4 p.m. we were clear of the snow, and once more found vegetation.
After a short rest we resumed our journey along the gentle rill which
leaps down from here with a pleasant murmur, and is known as the second
headwater of the Kabili, although the brook which we followed empties
into the Namga stream which rises in the Kangla Nangmo pass near
Jongri. The snow, reaching several miles below the Kangla pass on
either side of the Namga, showed us that this pass was inaccessible.
These early snows are called shingsa pahmo. The road led through dwarf
rhododendrons, bushy junipers, and prickly shrubs bearing a red fruit.
The river was frozen over, except in the narrow parts. In the distance
the pine-clad flanks of Juonga, through which the Yalung dashes, were
seen resplendent in the rays of the setting sun. We plodded on to 6
p.m., when we reached a broad flat called Namga tsal, “The Grove of
Joy,” and shortly after crossed the river by a wooden bridge of the
East Nepalese type, and some forty feet long, and came to the
halting-place under the widespread branches of a high dung shing or
cedar. Namga tsal received its name, I was told, from Lha-tsun, the
great Buddhist patriarch of Sikkim, having spent a few days here to
rest from his fatigue when travelling for the first time from Tibet to
convert the Lhopas (Southerners). He so enjoyed his rest here that he
ordered his disciples to hold the place sacred, and to celebrate their
annual inaugural religious ceremonies at the cavern in which he had
spent a few days. We could see the cave from where we were camped, and
were told that the Buddhists of Sikkim and Eastern Nepal still resort
to this place on pilgrimage.

November 22.—Crossing two streams with swampy banks, the way led uphill
for a while through thickets of rhododendrons, where we saw numerous
green pheasants of the colour of a green parrot, with spurs on their
legs and a deep, thick red line round their eye. In size they were
larger than a domestic fowl. [31] Next we came to the Yalung river,
which we crossed by a substantial bridge of cedar logs and silver-fir
planks, and then we began the ascent of the steep and lofty Chunjorma,
or “Collection of Cascades.” In the wooded solitudes on the lower
slopes of the great Kanchanjinga stood the little monastery of Dechan
rolpa. The predecessor of the present abbot, it is said, was able to
visit Na-Pematang, the Lepcha Paradise, which has only been entered by
seven families, and which lies between the Cho-kanchan and
Cho-kanchanjinga.

Some three miles to the west of the Dechan rolpa gomba is the village
of Yalung, where twelve families live who spend their summer in tending
yaks at Yalung, and their winter at Yanku tang, in the valley of the
Kabili. [32]

Passing by the two lakelets of Tso chung donka, we ascended the
mountains of the same name, and finally reached by the Nango la the
summit of Chunjorma, which name applies to the portion of the pass
between the Nango la and the Mirkan la, where the road from Nepal by
Khan-do-phug joins it.

From Mirkan la we passed some lofty crags, called Ta-miran kukyab, the
principal of which is said to be the image of the horrible deity
Tamdrin, or Hayagriva. In shape it resembles a horse’s head (Ta-mgrin)
facing towards Kanchanjinga. Descending, we found grass growing on the
Pangbo la, and on the Zinan la were junipers and rhododendrons. At
about 7 p.m. we reached Mudang phug, Phurchung carrying me on his back
for part of the way,

November 23.—Our way led along an extensive moraine, the huge reddish
boulders of which were covered with creeping tamarisks and dwarf
junipers. After about a mile we reached Manda phug, a hollow between
two gigantic boulders, the one inclined towards the other; and here we
took our breakfast of rice and buttered tea. The vegetation improved as
we neared Manda la, and the sight of thick forest growth in the deep
glens refreshed our eyes, so long tired with looking on barren rocks.
From Tama la, where we saw some shepherds tending their flocks and some
yaks, one descends the Yamatari valley, the top of the slope being held
sacred to the dreaded Mamo goddesses; on the rhododendron bushes were
white and red flags offered to them by wayfarers. From this point I
obtained a good view of the Kangpa-chan valley.

Finding that I was greatly exhausted, Dao Namgyal, Phurchung’s
brother-in-law, took me on his back and carried me till we reached the
north-west flank of the Tama la. Soon after this we came to a flat,
grass-covered valley with tall rhododendrons and ferns growing about.
Phurchung held this spot to have been a singularly lucky one for him,
for it was here that his parents had met Hooker some thirty-five years
ago, while the great botanist was exploring Nepal. Phurchung’s father,
suffering from snow-blindness, was led by his wife to the Doctor, who
not only gave him excellent medicine, but presented her with a pretty
coin to hang about the neck of her child, Phurchung, then a baby in the
arms. [33]

At about 2 p.m. we reached the Yamata ri, formed by the streams which
issue from Kanchanjinga. The gorge in which this river flows is
singularly beautiful. Above the steep crags on either side were blue
glaciers, and at their feet forests of native firs and larches, covered
with pendant mosses waving like feathers in the breeze. Just before
reaching Kangpa-chan (Gyunsar) village, the Yamata ri river is crossed
by a little bridge, and then the village with its wooden huts comes in
view. Some of the houses were empty; a few old hags with goitre sat on
their thresholds basking in the sun and spinning.

Phurchung had reached this, his native village, ahead of us, and he now
came, much the worse for drink, to greet us, and led us into his
mother’s house, where a fire of rhododendron boughs and aromatic firs
blazed in the middle of the room. Chang [34] was ready in wooden
bottles, and his mother poured some boiling water into them as soon as
we were seated on the cushions placed for us. Some dry junipers and
pines were burnt as incense, and two joss-sticks smoked before us. Then
two brass plates full of boiled, red-skinned potatoes were offered us,
followed by rice and boiled mutton, the rice being served wrapped up in
the broad leaves of some kind of hill plant. When night came on we sat
around the fire, each with a bottle of murwa before him; but drowsiness
soon overtook me, and I fell asleep.

November 24.—The village of Kangpa-chan [35] is built on several
terraces facing the south-west, the houses enclosed in low stone walls.
Several small streams empty into the Kangchan below the village, and
mountains covered with snow and ice rise precipitously on either side
of it, their lower slopes clad with thick forest growth of moss-covered
silver firs, deodars, and larches. Juniper and rhododendron bushes
surround the village. Round about it are patches of barley, [36] from
one to the other of which flew flocks of wild pigeons.

Coming back from a stroll, I found two men waiting to invite me to
drink chang at their houses; and having accepted their invitation, I
went first to that of a man called Jorgya. Taking my seat on a thick
mattress-like seat covered with a piece of Khamba carpet, a bamboo
bottle filled with murwa, with a little piece of butter placed on top
of it, was set before us. [37] Tea was first drunk, the housewife
serving mine in a china cup, a form of Tibetan politeness only shown to
persons of superior social standing, those of equal or inferior rank to
the host using the wooden bowls each one carries about in the breast of
his gown. After this, a brass plate filled with potatoes was placed
before us on a little table, together with parched Indian corn, milk,
and butter, of all of which we ate heartily.

Our host advised me not to attempt to go by Wallung, as I would be sure
to meet with much difficulty, but rather to enter Tibet by Yangma and
the Kangla chen pass, which was still possible, he said, even at this
advanced season of the year.

I next went to the house of Pemazang, Phurchung’s uncle, which I found
well plastered and with a tastefully painted chapel. His son and wife
received me at the head of the ladder, and led me into the house.
Pemazang had long, thick, and tangled hair. He wore gold earrings in
the shape of magnolia flowers, and his looks and talk were grave and
serious. He often sits in deep meditation for the purpose of arresting
hail or other storms by the potency of the charms he is able to
pronounce. [38]

Leaving Pemazang, we crossed the river and paid a visit to the
Tashi-chos ding monastery, which we found nearly deserted, one or two
old women here and there turning the prayer-wheels outside the temple.
Ascending two flights of ladder-stairs, we entered the lama’s house. He
and his ani [39] received us most kindly, and the latter asked me for
some medicines for the old gentleman, who was suffering with dyspepsia
(pakan).

Returning to our lodgings, we found that the lock of the bag in which I
kept my money had been tampered with, but I did not open it, as six
other persons were living in the room we occupied, and I feared lest
they might see the contents. Whatever the loss might be, I made up my
mind to bear it silently, and keep my suspicions to myself.

November 25.—Phurchung’s brother, Dao Namgyal, brought me a quantity of
presents—potatoes, murwa, millet, butter, and last, but not least, a
kid, for which I gave him a return present of five rupees. The poor
people of the village all followed with various presents, not that they
had any great respect for me, but solely with an eye to return
presents, which they hoped would be greater than the value of theirs.
Fortunately there were but few people in the village, otherwise they
would have drained me of all my cash.

By noon Phurchung had sufficiently slept off his drunkenness to procure
for me several pair of kyar, [40] or snowshoes, from the people of the
village. I had learnt from a newly engaged coolie that he had lately
crossed the Kangla pass on kyar, and had reached Jongri, where he had
met Captain Harman, who had been much struck by the great usefulness of
this rude contrivance.

In the evening the men killed two kids; the blood was poured into the
intestines, which had been washed and cleaned, barley-flour (tsamba)
being mixed with it. [41] These blood puddings were boiled and packed
away with the tripe in a small wicker basket for my use on the journey.

It is told of the upper Kangpa-chan valley that it was first peopled by
Tibetans, called Sharpa (Easterners), whose original home was in the
mountains of Shar Khambu, or Eastern Kirata. [42] Lower down the valley
lived the Magar tribe from Nepal, whose chief extended his sway over
the Sharpa, and exacted such oppressive taxes from them that they
decided to avenge themselves. The Magar chief, going to the village of
Kangpa-chan, he and his followers were murdered, and their bodies
buried. No clue could be had of the missing men, so the chief’s wife
went herself to Kangpa-chan, but she also failed to discover what had
become of them. While going along the river bank, a boulder, undermined
by the current, tumbled down, when a swarm of flies flew buzzing out.
Attracted by this, the queen had the earth removed, and discovered the
bodies of her husband and his followers. Returning home with the
chief’s body, she ordered great funeral ceremonies to be held at a
place some six miles up the river, near the Rapa-chan torrent, midway
between the two great villages of the Kangpa-chan valley—Gyunsar and
Yarsa, [43] as being more accessible for the people, for whose
entertainment great bowls of wine were to be provided. In the wine
poison was mixed; and as soon as the Magars had finished drinking, they
passed it to the Kangpa-chan people, who drank deeply, and fell asleep
to awake no more. Nearly a thousand people were in this way done to
death, and the babies were carried away by the queen’s followers. The
place where this foul deed was done became known as Tong-shong phug,
“the place which witnessed a thousand murders.”

The few who escaped carried the news to Tibet, and soon returned with a
large army to wage war against the Magars. The queen shut herself up in
one of her castles, and, though ill-prepared to stand a siege, she and
her people defended it for three months. The Tibetans decided to reduce
the place by famine and by cutting off the water-supply. Then the
queen, to deceive them, opened the reservoir in the castle and let the
water flow towards the Tibetan camp; and the enemy, thinking that she
must have a great store of it and that their attempt was vain, raised
the siege, and withdrew to a distance. The queen now attacked them in
turn, but fell in the first skirmish, fighting valiantly. The Tibetans
finally expelled the Magars from the Kangpa-chan and Tambur valleys,
and restored them to their former possessors.

It was among the Kangpa-chan tribe that I had found Phurchung, the most
devoted and faithful of all the men I ever came across in the
Himalayas. Although Ugyen distrusted him, and he abhorred Ugyen, yet I
placed implicit confidence in his loyalty and ability, and his devotion
and fidelity to me were boundless.

November 26.—We left Kangpa-chan, our party now comprising four
coolies. Phurchung marched along with my gun as a sign of his
importance, but its red cloth cover, its principal beauty, had been
stolen the night before; his younger brother, Sonam-dorj, carried his
pack. Ugyen-gyatso and I rode ponies, hired for eight annas each, to
take us halfway up the Nango la. The old women (ama) of the village
waited our approach at the east end of the bridge to give us the
stirrup cup (chang kyel) (a custom invariably observed in Tibet at the
parting of friends setting out on a long journey), with bowls of wine
in their right hand, and plates full of parched barley flour (tsamba)
in their left. Each of the old women poured a little wine into a china
cup, to which a pinch of flour was added, and we were asked to take a
sip, with the wish of “May we offer you the like on your return.” We
thanked them for their kindness, and put a couple of rupees in one of
their plates, to be divided amongst them.

We rode slowly on by the bounding river, into which a number of little
rills empty, flowing down from behind the monastery, and over which
were several prayer-wheels turned by the water. Our way lay amidst
thick woods up to Daba ngonpo, where the natives used to get blue clay
to make images. This clay they held to be exceptionally good, as it
came from the summit of a holy mountain. From this point we followed up
the bed of a former glacier, passing Kamai phugpa, and reaching at
Khama kang tung, the timber line. A mile beyond the latter place we
came to the end of the pasture-lands on this side the Nango la, not far
from which we saw a flock of spotted birds, called sregpa, [44] which
Ugyen tried, without success, to shoot.

The ascent of the Nango la now began over deep snow, in some places its
surface frozen, in others so soft that we sunk knee-deep in it. I soon
became so exhausted that I had to get one of the coolies to carry me on
his back, and so we reached the summit of the pass. [45]

Two miles to the west of the pass is Sayong kong, a plateau whence
there is a direct road leading to Yangma. A mile below this place is
Sayong-hok, [46] where vegetation begins again, and gradually increases
as one advances along the Lungkyong chu. We camped on the river bank
under a great boulder, spreading our rugs on beds of long dry grass,
which covered, but very imperfectly, the rough, stony soil.

November 27.—We followed down the Lungkyong chu (the only way of
communication between Kangpa-chan, Yangma, and Wallung), the mountains
on our left nearly hidden in the morning mists. For part of the way our
road led along a steep path through thick woods of firs, feathery
larches, and deodars, amidst which I saw many pheasants and other kinds
of birds, and the coolies told me that musk deer and wild sheep were
also found there.

About two miles above the junction of the Yangma with the Lungkyong, we
crossed the former stream by a wooden bridge, and finally arrived at
the village of Tingugma, where we rested a while and ate a light meal.

Shortly after starting again we met a party of Yangma natives driving
before them a few sheep and a dozen yaks laden with blankets, yak
hides, barley, and salt. They were going to a village called Chaini, in
the Tambur valley, to exchange their goods for rice and Indian corn.
Phurchung asked them if the Kangla chen pass was still open. Some said
we could easily cross it; others expressed doubts about it, for they
said three feet of snow had fallen on it a few days previously.

Passing by Maya phug (a cavern sacred to the goddess Mamo), we crossed
a little juniper-covered plateau called Shugpa thang (“Juniper plain”),
and after a short but steep climb reached the summit of the pass, from
whence I had a most extended and beautiful view of the surrounding
country—behind me great reddish granite rocks, looking like the ruins
of gigantic ramparts; before me a plain some two miles long, the bed of
a former glacier, encircled by snowy mountains rising the one above the
other; while to the south-east was the Nango la, and behind it the
plain of Sumdongma. Crossing the Djari thang, or “Plain of Gravel,” and
the Do la, or “Rocky pass” (round the base of which the Yangma flows),
I reached by dusk the monastery of Yangma, or Manding gomba, situated
on a broad, shrub-covered terrace some 40 to 50 feet above the stream;
where Phurchung found me lodgings in a wretched cell, where I settled
myself as best I could for the night. He obtained a few eggs and some
milk from the lamas; and while one of the nuns (ani) helped Dao Namgyal
to cook the food, another blew the bellows. The lamas were engaged in
their annual reading of the Kahgyur, which occupied them daily from 5
in the morning to 7.30 p.m., when they retired to their respective
cells. There were fifteen monks and seven ani in the lamasery. [47]

Ugyen had been suffering most of the day with violent pains in the
bowels; he now wrapped himself in all the blankets I could spare, and
lay groaning and crying, “Achi-che apa-ouh!” so that I felt grave
apprehensions for him, and feared that his illness might oblige us to
stop over in this wretched place.

November 28.—Phurchung had been away on a drunken bout all night, and I
arose full of fear lest he might have disclosed our plans to his
companions, and Ugyen shared my alarm. After a while Phurchung and
Phuntso appeared, and with much salaaming and lolling of the tongue
asked me to wait here a day, the latter assuring me that he hoped to
obtain, without much difficulty or the payment of custom duty (called
chua in this part of Nepal), permission for us to proceed on our
journey. Shortly after the elders arrived, the richest man among them
recognizable by his tamuski hat, a long earring, and a deep red serge
robe of purug. [48] He had come from the village of Yangma riding a
half-breed yak (jo), which, with the saddle still on its back, stood
tied at the gate of the monastery. I anxiously awaited the result of
their conference with my men, and in great anxiety prayed to the
Supreme Dispenser of our destinies that nothing might happen
unfavourable to ourselves and our enterprise.

The Manding gomba, or Nub Man-ding gomba, “The Western Flying-Medicine
Monastery,” owes its name to the fact that lama Lha-tsun once lived for
three years in a cave close by called the Zimphug, to discover
medicines of wonderful potency, and that he there obtained three
wonderful pills. One came to him through the air, falling on the spot
where the lamasery now stands. The second pill fell a little above the
monastery, where the people of the village now burn their dead; and the
third alighted on the spot where the great chorten now stands.

Manding gomba is held in great sanctity, for it is one of the first
cis-Himalayan lamaseries founded by the great red-hat Lama Lha-tsun;
but Wallung ranks first, and Kangpa-chan second, in point of wealth and
power. Manding possesses a fine copy of the Kahgyur in 125 volumes.

The Lha-khang, or temple, has massive and neatly painted walls and
doors, after the manner of the Sikkim donpa. The huts or cells of the
monks in its immediate vicinity, all painted red with clay obtained
from the adjacent mountains, are of irregular and ugly style, the
doors, windows, and cornices being roughly made; each house has around
it a low stone wall, inside of which the sheep and yak find shelter.

After a little while Phurchung and Puntso came back to me in high
spirits over the result of their conference with the village elders.
They had told them that I was only a pilgrim (nakorpa) who spoke
Tibetan and dressed in Tibetan fashion. The head lama said that he knew
of no order from the Nepalese Government for stopping pilgrims on their
way to Tibet, and that he would certainly not prevent me doing so, as I
spoke Tibetan with greater fluency and accuracy than many Nepalese. The
headman (gopa) asked that Phurchung should give bond, holding himself
personally responsible for my character as a traveller, and a custom
duty of eight annas a head was levied on our party. Phurchung also told
me that the headman and head lama were coming to bid me farewell, and
that I must not forget, after exchanging compliments with them, to say
sangpoi ja chog, “May we meet again next year.”

In a little while the big men arrived. The headman, conspicuous by his
earring, boots, and red serge robe, nodded to me slightly, and took off
his hat. He asked me why I had chosen such a bad season for going to
Tibet. I told him that I did so in obedience to the command of our holy
and learned chief lama (Tsawai), and not by my own wish. His object in
coming to see me was to find out if I spoke Tibetan and understood the
Buddhist religion. My fluency in Tibetan, and the citing of one or two
proverbial sayings in course of conversation, made him form a high
opinion of my knowledge of the sacred texts and histories, as well as
of my character and holiness. “Laso, laso” (yes, yes), he said, and
then he apologized for not having brought me some presents; but I
answered him that our acquaintance was only just begun, and there would
be time in the future to cultivate it, and, handing him a scarf
(khatag), I expressed the hope that we might meet the next year
(sangpoi ja chog). Many of the bystanders made wishes for our welfare,
but some one in the crowd said that I was certainly not a Tibetan. Then
another swore I was an Indian; and a third said that they would soon
have news of me: “That Hindu will surely die in the snows, and his
servants will soon return here with the news of his death.”

It was past noon when the coolies picked up their loads, and I set out
in excellent spirits, having now escaped the much-feared obstruction
from the Yangma people, on whose mercy and good-will our success
entirely depended.

We passed by some mendong and chorten at the entrance to the convent,
and then followed up the course of the Yangma, passing by a pretty
lakelet, the Miza, or “man eating,” [49] now filled with ice, and
seeing on the way some very high chorten, known as thongwa kundol, [50]
“bringing deliverance when seen,” which had a few years previously been
repaired by the head lama of Wallung. Near these we saw a half-dozen
wild sheep (nao), but we gave up all idea of shooting them when told
that the Yangma people think the gods of the land and mountains
(Shi-bdag, ri-lha) would be deeply offended if any one molested them.

By 3 p.m. we got sight of the village of Yangma, [51] whose houses
could only be distinguished from the boulders everywhere strewing the
ground by the smoke issuing from the roofs. There were not more than a
hundred houses in the village, and the fields round about were enclosed
within low stone walls. Buckwheat, barley, turnips, radishes, and
potatoes are grown here, and rice brought from Yang-ku tang and other
villages in the warmer valleys is procurable. The village was founded
by Tibetans from Tashi-rabka, one of them having discovered the valley
and its comparative fertility while hunting for a lost yak calf. The
name Yangma was given it on account of the breadth of the valley. [52]

The male part of the population is idle in the extreme, but the women
are correspondingly busy; some I saw were threshing corn, some
gathering fuel, others engaged in various kinds of household work.

By 5 p.m. we got off from this wretched valley, where Phurchung and the
coolies, by the way, were most desirous to remain to continue drinking
chang, though Phurchung showed unmistakable signs of having already
imbibed too much. After an hour’s march we reached Ki phug, where we
found, under an overhanging rock, a bit of ground free from snow on
which to camp; but Phurchung remained behind in Yangma, in a helplessly
drunken condition.

November 29.—The way lay along the Yangma, which was scarcely visible,
snow and ice covering entirely its bed. There was nothing to give life
to the scenery; the river flowed in a deep gorge, or else opened out
into lake-like expanses; on either side the mountains seemed to reach
to the sky; not a bird, not even a cloud in the heaven, not a sound
save that of our feet crushing the light dry snow. It was 11 a.m. when
we came to an unfrozen pool, by which we ate our breakfast of tea and
meal. This place, which is in a broad portion of the valley, is a
favourite summer pasture-ground (tser chan) for the Dokpas, who, from
July to September, bring their herds of yaks here.

Po phug was reached after a march of three miles through the snow, then
the ascent became steeper and freer from snow, and we came to Luma
goma, “Fountain head,” the source of the Yangma river; and after an
easy ascent of half an hour we arrived at Tsa-tsam, the limit of
vegetation. [53]

Here we began climbing a huge glacier, a quarter of a mile wide and
more than three miles long, the Chyang-chub gya-lam, or “Highway to
Holiness,” over which I was carried on Phurchung’s back wherever the
snow lay deep. Then we climbed a huge mass of bare black rocks (Dsama
nagmo), and darkness had overtaken us before we reached the “White
Cavern” (Phugpa karpo), where we proposed passing the night. The fog
added to the obscurity of the night, our feet were benumbed by the
cold, and we frequently slipped into crevasses or between the clefts of
rocks. Finding it impossible to reach the cavern, we scraped away the
snow from between some rocks, and there I sat, my knees drawn up,
hugging myself during the long night.

How exhausted we were with the fatigue of the day’s journey, how
overcome by the rarefication of the air, the intensity of the cold, and
how completely prostrated by hunger and thirst, is not easy to
describe. The very remembrance of the sufferings of that dreadful night
makes me shudder even now, but I quickly recover under the
inexpressible delight I feel at the consciousness of my great success.
This was the most trying night I ever passed in my life. There was a
light breeze blowing, attended with sleet, which fortunately weighed my
blankets down and made them cover me closer than they otherwise would
have done. And so with neither food nor drink, placed as if in the grim
jaws of death in the bleak and dreary regions of snow, where death
alone dwells, we spent this most dismal night.

November 30.—The coolies once more picked up their loads, and our guide
began in his gravest tones to recite his Pema-jung-ne samba duba and
other mantras. The morning was gloriously radiant, and the great Kangla
chen glittered before us, bathed in a glory of golden light.
Fortunately for us, there was no fresh snow on the ground; for, had
there been any, we could not possibly have advanced. We found that we
had stopped not more than a furlong from the Phugpa karpo, which, by
the way, is not a cave at all, but only a crevasse between two detached
rocks. Our guide, leaving his load in charge of his brother, took the
lead, driving his long stick into the snow at each step, and digging
footholds in the soft snow. From the White Cavern the top of the pass
bore due east, and was distant about two miles. Just at the base of the
final ascent there is a little sandy plain, in the middle of which is a
huge boulder: this is the “Place of Salvation” (Tarpa gang), thus
called because, when once this point is reached, travellers may be
confident of attaining the summit of the pass.

I steadily followed in the footsteps of the guide, and would not let
him take me on his back; for if I succeeded in ascending to the highest
summit of Kangla chen without any help, I could look to the achievement
with greater pride. Ugyen here gave out, and it was with difficulty
that I persuaded Phurchung to carry him on his back, for they were far
from being on the best of terms. An hour’s hard climbing brought us to
the summit of the pass. The sky was cloudless and of the deepest blue;
against it a snow-clad world of mountains stood out in bold relief. Far
beyond the maze of snow-clad peaks we saw in the north-west the
mountains of Pherug, in Tibet, while those of Shar Khambu stood
gloriously out to the west.

The summit of Kangla chen is a plateau, some two miles from east to
west, and one mile and a quarter from north-west to north-east; it
inclines towards the west, while to the north-west it is bounded by a
mountain of considerable height. Our snowshoes (kyar) now stood us in
good need; unfortunately we had but three pairs, so Phurchung and I had
to wade through the deep snow in the footsteps of the others, with many
slips and more than one narrow escape from falling into the deep
crevasses. On all sides there was nothing visible but an ocean of snow.
Innumerable snowy peaks touched with their white heads the pale leaden
skies, where stars were shining. The rattling roar of distant
avalanches was frequently heard; but, after having succeeded in
crossing the loftiest of snowy passes, I felt too transported with joy
to be frightened by their thunder.

These splendid scenes of wonderland, the grandest, the most sublime my
eyes have ever beheld, which bewildered me so that even now my pen
finds no words to describe them, inspired me with feelings of deep
gratitude to Heaven, by whose mercy my life had been spared thus far.

We camped on a rock bare of snow, and passed another miserable night
with nothing to drink, and but a couple of dry biscuits to stave off
our hunger. To add to my misery, Ugyen was still suffering, and I had
to give him half my covering, for he had none of his own; and so, with
not even enough room to lie down, we passed the night huddled together,
the loads placed on the lower side of the rock so as to prevent our
falling off in our sleep.

December 1.—’Twas not yet dawn when all were on foot and busy packing
up. The track was hardly visible; below our path lay the great glacier,
extending for miles, which feeds the Tashi-rabka river. The snowy sides
of the mountains beyond this were furrowed by glacial streams, very
noticeable in their varied shades of blue and green, and on the surface
of the glacier itself rose huge rounded surfaces, or hummocks,
evidently produced by boulders concealed under the ice.

Following carefully in the footsteps of Phurchung, we crossed some six
spurs of the Dorjetagh range, and then came to an easy path down the
central moraine of a former glacier, now only a huge heap of boulders
and débris. The mountains lost, as we advanced, the whitish colour
peculiar to the Indian ranges, and assumed the blackish or ochre colour
distinctive of the Tibetan region. ’Twas with a feeling of intense
relief that we finally discerned vegetation and heard the babbling of a
little brook, near which flew birds feeding on rhododendron and juniper
berries, and a little way off we saw some herds of yaks grazing, and
smoke rising from a camp fire. Here we stopped at the foot of a great
rock, and enjoyed, after our long fast of two days, a meal of rice and
buttered tea.

We continued down the course of the stream, passing with some
apprehension near a huge bull-yak or shalu, though low stone walls
separated us from him and kept him away from the she-yaks (di) in the
adjacent pasturage. This part of the valley is frequently visited by
packs of wolves, which kill large numbers of yaks, but the bulls are
able to drive them off with their long sharp horns.

At 3 p.m. we passed Dsongo, the extreme border of the district of
Tashi-rabka, and where are the ruins of a stone house built on a huge
boulder. This was formerly a stage-house used by the Sikkim Raja’s
people, when the Yangma and Wallung districts still belonged to him,
when going to or returning from Tibet. A little way beyond this point
we met some herdsmen, who made inquiries as to whence we came and where
we were going. Near by were their tents, where I noticed two swarthy
women and a fierce Tibetan mastiff. Phurchung entered one of the tents,
sat down to chat and drink a cup of tara, a sort of thin curd. [54]

Ugyen was much preoccupied about our getting by Tashi-rabka and
escaping its headman (Tongzungpa). At about 6 o’clock we were close to
the village, and so we hid till dusk in a gully, where we boiled our
tea and ate some tsamba. The moon shone out brightly when we resumed
our march and passed along a portion of a high stone wall, erected by
the Tibetans during the Nepalese war, when, it is said, they put up
five miles of it in a day under orders of their general, the Shape
Shata. [55] This wall is carried across the river on a bridge, where it
has eight small watch towers. It crosses the whole valley, its ends
being high up on the sides of the mountains. On the farther side of the
wall is the village. Ugyen and Phurchung stood trembling, not knowing
whether to turn back towards the Kangla chen pass or to proceed onward
towards the chorten, near which the headman resides. Phuntso alone was
equal to the occasion. “If the guards are awake, we will sing some of
our national Wallung songs, and pass ourselves off for Wallungpa.”
After a few words of encouragement to the others, we set out. Before we
had reached the chorten, a voice from a yak-hair tent cried out,
“Whence are you, and where are you going?” To which Phuntso replied
that we were Wallungpa going to Shigatse, asked them where they were
going, and without waiting for a reply we hurried on and passed by the
dreaded headman’s house without awakening any one, not even the fierce
mastiffs tied up in front of the dwelling.

About 30 yards beyond the house we came to the bridge, a rough
structure of logs and stone slabs. The Tashi-rabka river was partly
frozen, and its swift current was sweeping down blocks of ice. We
crossed over unnoticed, and I then broke the silence with thanks to
merciful God who had enabled us to overcome this the most dreaded of
all difficulties, one which had frightened my staunch friend Phurchung,
that the snows of the Kangla chen had not daunted.

We followed the river in an easterly direction, passing on the way two
poor traders (Gyagar Khamba [56]) who were going to Wallung to sell a
wild sheep (nao) they had killed. Then we came to Ri-u, where is a
large Nyingma [57] monastery, and three miles further on to a bridge
over the two branches of the river. ’Twas nearly midnight when we
reached a sand-covered hillock called Shara, where we halted for the
night, and slept in a sheepfold, near which two hunters with a hound
(shyakhi) were also camped.

December 2.—At sunrise we resumed our journey, and after an hour’s
march got sight of the village of Guma Shara, at the foot of a range of
mountains trending north-west and south-east. Leaving this village some
miles away (on our right?), we turned a little to the north and made
for the Langbu la. There was not a soul to be seen on the vast
table-land we were traversing, only a few little birds like swallows
twittered on the hillsides by the way, and some kites were soaring in
the sky near Guma Shara. We ascended steadily till we came to the foot
of the pass, from which point the summit was reached by a zigzag cut in
the rocks, the whole surface of which was inscribed with the mystic
syllables, Om mani padmé hum. [58] I became so fatigued before the
summit (some 700 feet above the plateau) was reached, that Phuntso had
to carry me up; and Ugyen also made the ascent on Phurchung’s back, as
he was still feeling very badly and was quite unable to keep up with
us. From the summit we could see due north, perched on a lofty peak,
the Lhakha of Sakya, and to our west were snow-clad peaks of the lofty
Perugh mountains.

On the northern slope of the Langbu we found much drifted sand, and a
short distance from the foot of the pass we came to the source of the
Ge river, [59] where we met a party of rice-collectors (dadubpa) on
their way to Tashi-rabka with a dozen yaks and some donkeys, there to
buy rice from the Wallung traders. While Phurchung talked to one of
them, a former acquaintance, I slipped by without attracting their
attention; for had they spoken to me, they would certainly have
detected my nationality by my appearance and speech.

Proceeding onward, we met other parties of swarthy Tibetans, in which
the women were conspicuous by their headdress (patug). Their
dirt-covered faces, their white teeth and eyeballs, made them look
exceedingly wild. Crossing the rivulet by a bridge made of two stone
slabs, the valley broadened as we advanced, till we found ourselves on
a plateau several miles broad, where the rivulet turned to the west, to
empty probably farther on into the great Arun. Phurchung here pointed
out a place where there is a large underground monastery, [60] the
chief temple (tsugla khang) of which is cut out of the massive rock.
There are twenty inmates to this lamasery, and the church furniture and
images are said to be of great antiquity.

Fording the little Tibgyu chu, said to rise in the Chabug la, we
proceeded in an easterly direction, and passed the little village of
Wena, a mile from which stands the village of Chani, where lives the
Chyugpo mepang family, or the “rich men who never reply nay.” When
travellers passing by this way have asked the rich men (chyugpo [61])
if there was such and such a thing to be had at their place, they have
never replied in the negative. One day, in the month of August, a
traveller who had heard the story concerning this family came to test
its truth, and asked the housewife to give him a piece of ice, when she
at once produced a piece from the butter-cask. On another occasion a
traveller asked for a chile pepper in February, and the mistress of the
house gave it to him at once.

December 3.—At about a mile from our camp of last night we came to a
rivulet some fifteen feet broad, flowing in a north-easterly direction.
We selected a shallow part of it, across which Phurchung waded,
carrying me on his back. Irrigation ditches led the water of this
stream on to the neighbouring barley-fields. We stopped towards 7
o’clock at the camp (dok [62]) of Pole, situated in the middle of a
plain extending from east to west some ten miles, and bounded to the
north by the Arun river. There were several sheep-folds with walls of
sun-dried bricks six or seven feet high and two feet thick; in the
corners of these folds were turret-like houses, in which the shepherds
sought shelter from the severity of the weather. Here we hired two yaks
for a tanka [63] a-piece to carry us to the village of Tebong, about
six or seven miles away. This whole plateau was covered with a species
of briar, amidst which grew long fine grass, on which cows and jo
(half-bred yaks) were feeding, and whence innumerable hares and foxes
ran, startled by our approach. Midway between Pole and Tebong, but on
the mountain side, lies the village of Mug, with some forty families
(mitsang). Before reaching Tebong, which is the first village this way
on Tashilhunpo soil, we crossed the dry bed of the Chorten Nyima river,
forming the boundary, and which I had already passed over on my first
journey to Shigatse in 1879. [64] Near here we were overtaken by a
violent dust-storm, which hid the whole country from our view and
forced us for a while to remain motionless.

Once on Tashilhunpo territory, all my fears of being arrested were
over, and I walked on to the village of Tanglung [65] with a light
heart. An hour’s walk brought us to the door of my old acquaintance,
Nabu [66] Wanga, who led me with much ceremony into the best room of
his home, apologizing for his not being able to lodge me in his chapel,
which was filled with carcasses of sheep and goats drying for winter
use.

December 4.—Our host appeared early in the morning to inquire what we
required in the way of food for our journey, and Ugyen gave him a list
of articles, comprising mutton, barley-meal (tsamba [67]), butter, etc.
He also undertook to procure us three ponies, for which I was to pay
Rs. 4 each as far as Shigatse. While we were breakfasting a number of
old acquaintances came in, bringing me presents of tsamba, mutton,
butter, and chang. One man, a doctor (amchi), brought a fox-skin cap of
ingenious make, which he offered to sell me. It was so contrived that
it protected every part of the head, leaving only the eyes and nose
exposed, or it could be turned up and used as an ordinary hat. [68]

In the evening Delah Tondub, the head of the militia or village police
(yulmag [69]), received an order from Khamba djong, which he brought me
to decipher. It was to the effect that he must hold himself and force
in readiness to proceed at once to the Lachan boundary, fully equipped
with matchlocks, lances, swords, slings, etc., in view of the fact that
a “very important European official, deputy of the Lieut.-Governor of
Bengal, was on his way to the Tibetan frontier. This information was
communicated by the frontier guards, in consequence of which necessary
precautions were urgently needed.” I told them that the official
referred to was probably Captain Harman of the Survey Department, with
whom he was acquainted, having met him the year before at Tangu, near
Lachan.

December 5.—Our arrangements being completed and the ponies at the
door, we hastened to finish our breakfast. From the sheep-pen close by
the house we saw some fifty sheep led to the slaughtering-place behind
the village. The butchers mutter some mantras over each one before
killing it, and they receive as their perquisite the heads.

Following the same route I had taken in 1879, we left the village of
Mende [70] on our left, and, crossing several frozen streams, we came
to the village of Targye, where we stopped in the house of an old man,
who invited us to be his guests in the hope of getting some medicine
for dyspepsia from which he was suffering. He put us up in his
storehouse, amidst his barley, yak-hair bags, farming implements, etc.
He had manufactured some rugs, and I bought one from him for a couple
of rupees. The villagers, hearing of my purchase, brought me a number
of their choicest carpets, but the price asked was larger than I cared
to give.

December 6.—I learnt with pleasure from my host that the Minister of
Temporal Affairs (Kyab ving [71]) of Ulterior Tibet (Tsang) was Phendi
Khangsar, to whom I was well known. My host and his wife came and
begged some medicine, and I prepared for him an effervescent draught,
which the old man swallowed with much difficulty. “Oh, sir,” he
exclaimed, “it boiled and foamed even as it ran down my throat; it must
be a medicine of wonderful potency! I never took such a drink in my
life, nor heard of its like before!” And the spectators all said, in
amazement, “This amchi is a miracle-worker (tulpa); his medicine boils
in cold water.” And so my fame was noised abroad.

Crossing the Yaru la, we made for Kurma, before reaching which place we
experienced some difficulty in crossing the broad bed of the frozen
river. [72] Near the village we saw in the fields several wild asses
(kyang), some wild goats (ragyo), and wild sheep (nao). At Kurma we put
up in the house of a doctor, an acquaintance of Phurchung, who had
brought him a quantity of medicines the amchi had the year past
commissioned him to buy at Darjiling. Our supply of meat being
exhausted, Ugyen bought a sheep’s carcass (pagra). When the sheep get
very fat, the people, for fear of losing any of the fat by skinning
them, roast the whole as they would a pig. [73]

December 7.—Leaving Kurma early in the morning, we arrived at Iago [74]
by 6 p.m., where we got accommodations in the house of a rich farmer,
paying him a tanka as room-rent (nala). I had been feeling very badly
all day, but Phurchung whispered to me to let no one know I was ill, as
sick men are not admitted into people’s dwellings in this country.

December 8.—By 10 a.m. we reached Tamar, [75] in the valley of the Re
chu, here thickly dotted with hamlets. Numerous flocks of pigeons and
swallows were picking worms and grain in the fields, and Ugyen told me
that the pigeons were a serious nuisance to the people, for they are
not allowed to kill them, animal life being held sacred.

We passed the foot of the hill on which the Regyinpai lamasery [76] is
situated, and by 2 p.m. came to Labrang dokpa; but finding all the
houses closed, we continued on to the Nambu la, [77] crossing which we
reached the village of Nambu, where we stopped in the house of a friend
of Phurchung.

December 9.—We arose by 3.30 in the morning, and put on our best
clothes, for to-day we were to enter Tashilhunpo. Travellers were more
numerous now; we met several parties of traders with yaks and donkeys
or laden sheep going to or coming from Shigatse. The day was cold, and
there was a light wind blowing. I alternately rode and walked, and
though I was by this time greatly reduced in flesh by the hardships I
had had to encounter, I was in high spirits at the success which had so
far attended me. Not so Ugyen: he was ill, and fretted fearfully, his
appearance was repulsive, and his language to the Tang-lung men, whose
ponies we rode, was most abusive, but they bore patiently with him. At
9 o’clock we passed through Chuta, and an hour later came to the
village of Jong Luguri, [78] where I was most kindly received by my
former host of 1879, Lobdon puti. I ate a couple of eggs and drank a
few cups of tea; then, reloading our ponies, we paid our bill (jaltse)
and set out for Tashilhunpo, where we arrived by half-past four,
entering it by the small western entrance marked by two chortens. [79]



CHAPTER II.

RESIDENCE AT TASHILHUNPO.


We entered the monastery of Tashilhunpo by the little western gate, in
front of which stand two chortens—one very large with a gilt spire, the
other smaller but neatly constructed. I walked along the narrow lane,
lined on either side by lofty buildings, with the measured steps and
grave demeanour which all wearers of the sacred costume are supposed to
have. The rays of the setting sun shone on the gilded spires of the
houses and tombs in the monastery, and made a most enchanting picture.
[80]

The minister, I learned from his head cook (Machen [81]), whom I now
met, had gone to Dongtse, his native town, but he had left instructions
that I be lodged in the Targod chyi-khang until his return.

Though the news of the absence of my friend Phendi Khang-sar somewhat
damped my spirits, yet the pleasing thought of having been able for the
second time to visit Tashilhunpo was a source of infinite
gratification. The Machen opened the padlock which closed the great
door of the house, and ushered me in with outstretched hands and
greetings of “Pundib la, chyag-pheb nang,” “Welcome, Mr. Pundit.” [82]

The building was a three-storied one, the ground floor, adjoining which
were two stables, being used as a godown. The rooms on the first floor
were spacious and neat, but very cold on account of the height of the
roof and the absence of sunlight. The third story, though it looked
snug, was exposed to the wind, and therefore uninhabitable. The
minister’s steward (Nerpa [83]), coming in while we were looking over
the house, recommended the first floor for our residence, as it would
be warm in winter, when much air is not desirable. Having made up my
mind to occupy it, he had the rooms dusted, and removed some two
hundred volumes, a pile of printing-blocks, boards, and tables with
which the rooms were encumbered; and then, some thickly stuffed
cushions having been spread, on which our carpets and rugs were placed,
he begged us to be seated. Cups were placed on some small tables before
us, and tea was brought from the minister’s kitchen and served us by
the head cook. A few twisted biscuits, [84] some pieces of mutton and
tsamba were put before me, and from another teapot tea, of evidently an
inferior quality, was served to my companions.

The Nerpa told me that we were to be lodged here by the minister’s
order, but if we did not like the place we might write to him on the
subject, and he would have the letter forwarded to Dongtse. The
remoteness of the house, with only that of the minister near it, and,
above all, its location near the western gate, gave it peculiar
advantages, which appeared to me very essential for my purposes, and we
had every reason to be delighted at the forethought of our patron, who
had shown himself so anxious about our safe arrival and comfort.

When the Nerpa and Machen had left us, I consulted with Ugyen about
making presents to the servants of the minister and to our former
acquaintances. Money, being very scarce in Tibet, is valued above all
things, so that for the renewal of our former acquaintance we could do
nothing better than to make presents of silver coin and scarves
(khatag).

Later on in the evening we returned the visits of the steward and his
comrades, and presented them with rupees, eight-anna or four-anna
pieces, according to the importance of their respective offices. With
difficulty we persuaded them to accept the presents, for they feared
lest the minister might be vexed at their taking money from me.

December 10.—Ugyen and Phurchung were up by daylight, arranging things
and buying firewood and other necessaries. Shortly after I had arisen
the men we had hired at Tang-lung to lead our ponies came in for their
rewards. I gave each of them six tankas, and some twisted biscuits to
carry home to their children, all of which pleased them greatly. It
felt strange to me not to have a day’s journey before me, so accustomed
had I become to daily travel, instead of which I could sit peacefully
reclining on my cushions on the balcony, lighted up by the rays of the
morning sun. Phurchung was the only servant I now had to attend on both
myself and Ugyen, so it was decided to hire a man to help him in
fetching water and in blowing the bellows. We had to wait till the
Shigatse market (tom) opened at 11 o’clock before we could get any
breakfast, for our provisions were exhausted. Both Ugyen and Phurchung
went to the market, from which they shortly returned with butter, salt,
mutton, tsamba, phing, [85] and a few Chinese cakes for me. They had
been surrounded on the way by two parties of beggars (Rogyaba), who,
recognizing Ugyen as a new arrival from Sikkim, had by alternate
threats and solicitations succeeded in squeezing from him several
silver pieces. They had also seen an altercation between a woman
selling salt and some Khamba traders. One of the latter had bought
several seers of salt from the woman, and had offered her a debased
tanka in payment, which she had refused. The Khamba would not return
the salt or pay in better coin; he called six or seven of his friends
to him, threw the salt on the ground, and wanted to beat the woman,
whom there was no police to protect. It ended by the savage Khamba
walking off unmolested, and the poor woman losing her salt. Ugyen was
greatly surprised at the lawlessness of the people in the market, their
violence towards the helpless, and the absence of police supervision. I
smiled at his fears, and told him to take a hearty breakfast. In the
evening I called at the Phuntso Khangsar, and learnt from the steward
that Kusho Tung-chen, [86] the minister’s secretary, would be back on
the following afternoon.

December 11.—My breakfast consisted of a cup of broth (tugpa), with
tsamba, radishes, marrow, and minced mutton, a little salt and some
dried cheese (chura) in it. When it was over Ugyen and Phurchung went
to market, and on the way they met Choi-tashi, a Mongol monk, whom I
had once helped at Darjiling with food and money. The faithful Mongol
had not forgotten my kindness: as soon as he saw Ugyen he threw his
arms around him and led him to his home in the lamasery. Ugyen learnt
from him of the whereabouts of some of my old acquaintances—Lob-zang
Tanzing and other Mongol friends. Lob-zang had failed to pass his final
examination for admission into the monastery, in which it is required
of candidates to repeat without a single omission or mistake 120 pages
of selected sacred texts, [87] so he had been deprived of subsistence
allowances, and had seen his name struck off the roll of monks. He had
in consequence left Tashilhunpo four months before my arrival for his
native land, proposing to visit Lhasa on the way.

In the market Ugyen met another old acquaintance, the Chinese head of
the Shigatse police, who invited him into his house, where his mistress
(ani) served them chang and a dish of vermicelli (jya tug). [88] Then
the Chinaman told Ugyen of the recent row in which the junior Amban had
been involved, and of his own incredibly swift ride to Lhasa to carry
dispatches to the senior Amban. As the senior Amban, together with the
Shape Sa-wang rampa and Lhalu, had come to Shigatse to settle the
trouble, the head constable claimed for himself no small share in the
successful termination of the affair. It was also said that the Shape,
together with the Amban, had decided to enforce the circulation of
every kind of silver coin, no matter how debased. The distinction made
in the Shigatse market between good and bad coin was considered to be
productive of much inconvenience to trade, and so they had forbidden
it. The same order had been recently enforced at Lhasa, to the great
convenience and satisfaction of the people. Secret orders were issued
to arrest the few respectable monied men who might offer objections to
the enforced circulation of debased coin, by which means all trouble in
the matter, it was hoped, would be averted. In consequence of this
Ugyen took care not to get into trouble by changing our Indian coins
for Tibetan tanka, by exchanging them in the monastery itself.

In the market-place my men saw several parties of prisoners loaded with
chains weighing twenty pounds and upwards. Some had their hands
manacled, others their arms passed through blocks of wood, not a few
had their eyes put out. The Government does not provide these miserable
wretches with food, but lets them beg their sustenance in the
market-place. They are more troublesome than even the Ragyabas, and
pour out curses and vile abuse on all who do not at once give them
alms. At 4 p.m. I was told that the minister’s secretary, the Kusho
Tung-chen, had arrived, and wanted to see me; so I dressed myself in my
lama costume, and, accompanied by Ugyen carrying a few coins and some
khatag, I went to the Puntso Khangsar.

Being conducted into his presence, I presented him with a scarf and a
couple of rupees, and Ugyen did the same. We were then given fine
khatag, and asked, with an air of genuine cordiality and kindness which
greatly pleased me, to be seated beside him. A stuffed raised seat,
covered with a Chinese rug, was given me, and a small table placed
before me. Ugyen occupied a lower seat, and the table given him was
also lower than mine, to show the difference of rank between us. Plates
of dried and boiled mutton, together with bowls of tsamba, were served
us. An attendant then brought from the minister’s shelves handsome
china cups, and, filling them with tea, asked me to drink with “Pundib
la, sol-ja-she” (“Please drink, Mr. Pundit”), at which I drank about a
third of the contents; for it is customary in Tibet not to drink more
than this at first, while to drink less would be a reflection on the
cook or the host. After a short conversation of no importance I
returned to my dwelling.

December 12.—The secretary sent to inform us that he would be
despatching a messenger to Dongtse in the evening, and that if we had
any letters to send they should be ready before noon. We at once
applied ourselves to drafting a letter to the minister, which was no
easy matter, as the form of the paper, the margin to be left at the top
and bottom of the sheet, and the choice of complimentary words at the
beginning, had all to be carefully weighed. We tried to convey to the
minister how sorry we were in not having had the honour and pleasure of
meeting him at Tashilhunpo, and how thankful we felt to him for his
great kindness in arranging for our comfort and accommodation. We
begged him, if possible, to return to the capital for the good of all
living beings, and particularly for ourselves, who depended solely on
his mercy for the security of our lives. We also told him that the
lithographic press he had ordered me on my first visit to buy for him
in India had arrived at Lachan, where it was held by the prefect of
Khamba djong. Ugyen wrote a separate letter to the minister, and then
we took them to the secretary, who added a few lines to our notes,
asking his master to vouchsafe his sacred protection and mercy to us
who had come so far and had encountered such incredible hardships and
dangers.

Returning home, I found Lupa gyantsaan (gyaltsan?), a former
acquaintance, awaiting me. He presented me some provisions and other
things, and offered his services to buy what I might require, and see
that I was not cheated. He also agreed to send me a good servant.

In the evening I called on another old friend, a most respectable man,
Kusho Dechang. He was delighted to see me. Rising from his cushion, he
begged me come in, saying, “Chyag-pheb-nang-chig.” The steward (solpon
[89]) then served tea, replenishing my cup from a silver teapot
(chambim) as soon as it was about a third empty. Kusho Dechang then
questioned me concerning the present condition of affairs in Aryavarta
(India), and about its government under the Frang (Europeans). The
conversation then turned on the recent row with the Chinese and its
settlement, reached to-day.

The two Chinese Residents at Lhasa inspect each year in turn the
Nepal-Tibet frontier, in order to ascertain the discipline of the
garrison at Tingri and the state of the defences and military resources
of the several frontier posts. As the task is a most tedious and
fatiguing one, owing to the desert-like condition of the country, the
Ambans draw lots to find out who is to go on the inspection tour. In
the latter part of October of this year it fell to the junior Amban’s
lot to visit Tingri djong and Shigatse. He started accordingly,
accompanied by an experienced Tibetan civil officer with the rank of
Tsipon (accountant), who was to arrange, as usual, for the
transportation of the Amban and his retinue by sending messengers
(ngondo) ahead to the different stations along the road. The Amban
decided to follow the northern road (chang lam) viâ Toilung Tsorphu.
Now, according to pre-established custom, the Tibetan treasury has to
pay the Amban a daily travelling allowance of four doche, or Rs. 500;
[90] but the Government of Lhasa, instead of paying it out of the
Government treasury, raises it from the people at the time of the
Amban’s journey and along his route. The obligation of raising the
Amban’s allowance then devolved on the Tsipon Kong chyang-lochan. On
arriving at Shigatse, the Amban demanded six doches, or Rs. 750,
instead of four. The Tsipon notified the people (misser) between
Shigatse and Tingri, and when they refused to give this amount, the
headmen (tsog-pon) were flogged, and their ponies and property sold to
make up the amount.

Returning to Shigatse on his way back to Lhasa, the Amban stopped there
several days, during which he insisted on a daily allowance of Rs. 750,
which, the people protesting they could not pay, the Chinese soldiery,
by various oppressive means, tried to squeeze out of them. The Tsipon
tried to resign his commission, and then the Amban visited his anger on
him. In the mean time the people combined in a body to resist the
exaction, and, with the connivance of the two prefects (Djongpon) of
Shigatse, openly refused payment of the Amban’s unjust demands. The
Amban, furious, ordered his Chinese soldiers to arrest the Djongpon and
put the Tsipon in irons; but the former fled, and the soldiery were
stoned by the mob. The next day the Tsipon was tied to a pillar of the
Amban’s house and flogged. After he had received some fifteen cuts,
volleys of stones were thrown, and the Amban severely hurt before he
could escape into the house, and he was only saved from the infuriated
populace by the prompt arrival of the Tibetan general (Dah-pon) with
the troops under his command. Then it was that a messenger was sent
post-haste to Lhasa, and the senior Amban, the ministers (Shape) Rampa
and Lhalu having arrived, formed, with the temporal minister of the
Tashi lama (Kyab-dvang chenpo) and the paymaster of the forces, a
commission to investigate the matter.

Their judgment in the case was made known on the 12th. It bore that the
two Djongpon of Shigatse should be degraded from the third to the
fourth class of Chinese official rank, losing also their position as
Djongpon for that of Djongnyer under new Djongpon; and that,
furthermore, each of them should receive two hundred blows with the
bamboo. The village headmen (tsog-pon) were to receive four hundred
blows with the bamboo, and be imprisoned for two months in the jails of
Re and Khamba djong. Eight elders (gampo) were to receive fifty blows
of the bamboo, and wear the cangue for six months.

As to the junior Amban, it being proven that he had attempted to extort
more than his allowance from the people, the Commissioners decided to
petition the Court of Peking to no longer allow the payment by the
Tibetan people of the Chinese travelling allowance (jya-tal [91]) in
such cases, only supplying the usual travelling facilities. To obtain
this concession, it is said that two Lhasa Shape paid the Amban fifteen
doche, or Rs. 1875.

Dechang then inquired what medicines I had brought, as he was suffering
from a cold and cough, and I promised to give him some later on. Then,
pouring the contents of my cup into the slop-bowl (shalu [92]), as a
sign of taking leave, I arose and went home.

December 13.—To-day some 15,000 persons assembled at noon in the
market-place to see the arrival of the Kashmir Envoy with his guards
and escort in military dress. All the alleys of Shigatse, the courtyard
of Kesar Lhakhang, and the adjacent gardens were filled with people all
eagerly waiting for the temo (sight). There was the Envoy of the
Maharaja with some fifty sowars, all in uniform, besides a hundred
mounted followers of various nationalities, some Sikhs, Mohammedans
with flowing beards and white turbans, Ladakis in clumsy lambskin
dresses, Murmis from Nepal, Dokpas from Chang, a few Nepalese, and some
Tibetans from Kirong. There were also with the Envoy a number of
merchants dressed in princely style, and attended by servants in
liveries of silk and broadcloth. Some of their ponies were also richly
caparisoned with ornaments of silver and brocade of gold. The Kashmir
Government, I learnt, sends an envoy to Lhasa every three years with
presents (called tribute) to the Grand Lama. The Tibetan Government, on
receiving notice of the proposed setting out of the mission, has relays
(ta-u) of ponies and mules, about 500 head, and also coolies, prepared
at all the towns and post-stations along the road from the Ladak
frontier to Lhasa. Although so large a number of ponies and men is
hardly necessary for the Envoy, who only brings presents of precious
things of little bulk, the party avails itself of the privilege for the
carriage of personal property and merchandise to and from Lhasa. As the
mission passed by, we heard the people remark that all this splendour
and ostentation was at the expense of the Government of Lhasa, and to
the ruin of the poor people of Tibet.

The origin of this tribute from Kashmir to Lhasa is as follows: After
the conquest of Ladak, Balti, and Skardo, Zorwar Sing, the famous Sikh
general of Maharaja Golab Sing, turned his arms against Rudok and Gar
in the year 1840–41. These two provinces, which produce the finest wool
of Tibet, and contain the wealthiest and most sacred of its
monasteries, were held by the great Buddhist ruler of Tibet as his most
valued possessions, and the Sikh general, by attempting their conquest,
excited the wrath of the Lhasa Government, who, applying to their
suzerain, the Emperor of China, was able to put more than 10,000 men in
the field. Zorwar Sing, with some 5000 men, invaded these two
provinces, and the governor (garpon) fled to the Chang tang, [93]
leaving the fort (of Rudok?) and the whole country at the mercy of the
enemy. The general established himself near the sacred lake Mapham
(Manasarowar), and sent detachments all over the country to pillage and
spread desecration in the holiest of Buddhist sanctuaries at Mapham and
Kailas; and one body of troops he posted at Purang, near the Nepal
frontier, to watch the Lhasa forces. The combined forces of Lhasa and
China now marched on Rudok under the leadership of one of the Shape;
and Zorwar Sing, whose contempt for the Tibetan soldiery was great, and
who underrated the strength of the forces opposed to him, sent some
small detachments of his troops to oppose their advance. These were cut
to pieces, when he himself, at the head of his troops, advanced to
encounter the Lhasa forces. The two armies fought for two days and
nights without any decisive result, but on the third day the Sikh
general fell, and victory declared itself for the lamas. The defeat was
complete, and the number of slain on both sides immense. The victorious
troops now threatened Ladak, and the Maharaja sued for peace. A treaty
was concluded by the agent of Golab Sing and the Government of Lhasa,
of which one of the terms was the payment of a triennial tribute.

Talking with the Kusho Tung-chen of the severity of the punishment
inflicted yesterday on the Djongpon of Shigatse and the circle headmen
(tsog-pon), he told me that, besides those mentioned above, the
Djongpon had had the flesh and skin stripped off their hands. The
tsog-pon had offered to pay the mandarin Rs. 2000 a-piece to escape the
400 blows of the bamboo, but the Chinese had been inexorable.

December 14.—The Tung-chen sent me one of his acquaintances, Norpu
Tondub, a Donnyer of Dongtse, with a request that I would let him have
some medicine, as he was suffering from dyspepsia. At first I refused,
as I had but very few drugs with me, and only in quantity sufficient
for myself; but, the Tung-chen insisting, I took my medicine-chest with
me and went to his house. Lifting up the lid, I displayed the various
bottles with their sparkling contents, the secretary, his friends, and
the servants all looking on with amazement, while Norpu Tondub, at the
very sight of the bottles, seemed to become certain of recovery, and
said he would pay as much money as I might ask. I replied that even
then I could not let him have any medicine, as no amount of money could
get me a fresh supply of drugs from India once these finished, for the
passes were all closed by the Tibetan Government. At this the Tung-chen
looked anxious, so I opened one of the bottles and called for a china
cup, and three or four persons ran to the kitchen and brought me half a
dozen large and small ones. I weighed the medicine in my brass balance;
the drams and scruples, which glittered like gold coins, perplexed them
much, as they thought I was a miracle-worker who used gold coins for
weights. I now told them that the two medicines when mixed would boil.
The very announcement of this filled the spectators with mute
amazement, and made the patient tremble with fear; he looked at the
Tung-chen and then to heaven with anxiety, evidently repenting him for
having pressed me for medicine, and seemed anxious to escape from my
hands. The secretary, too, looked aghast; but the medicines were mixed,
and to his mind they were too valuable to be thrown away; so, having
examined if the two mixtures were hot, and finding that they were not,
he encouraged the patient, saying that I was a great physician, and he
had no cause to apprehend danger from my hands. I told the patient that
he could depend on me that I was not going to administer poison to him,
and to be ready to take the draught as soon as it frothed up. All
waited with eager expectation to see the phenomenon, when lo! the
mixture foamed with a hissing noise, which made the patient shrink
back. I told him to dip his finger in the boiling mixture; and when he
found it cold he uttered the mystic sentence, “Om mani padme hum,” and
swallowed it, and said it was agreeable and refreshing. He then drew
from the breast of his gown a khatag and a few coins, and offered them
to me, laying the scarf on the ground before me. “Great physician,” he
said, “accept this little token of my gratitude, though it is not
worthy of your acceptance. Considering, however, that you are a pious
man to whom money is of no value, I venture to hope you will accept
it.” I declined the money, but at the request of the Tung-chen accepted
the scarf. With looks of open-mouthed astonishment and feelings of
endless admiration for the marvellous properties of the medicine and
for the wonderful amchi (physician) who disdained money, the little
circle of spectators returned to their houses and work.

The punishment of the Djongpon had filled the people with fear of the
Chinese. They apprehended new insults at the hands of the Chinese
swaggering about the streets of Shigatse. People who had come to the
market from a distance to sell their goods were packing them up to
hurry off home. No provisions could be had, no purchases could be made.
Ugyen met some grain-dealers whom he knew, and begged them to sell him
some rice, but none would acknowledge even that they had any for sale.
An old woman who had sold us rice on our first visit here said, “Do not
talk of rice before the Chinese and their friends, for they will come
and take what I have away and throw some bad coins in my cloth. Come in
an hour or two, when the rascals have gone away, and I will let you
have what you want.” On one side of the market-place is a large
zakhang, or restaurant, where Phurchung and Ugyen went to appease their
hunger. While they were busy with their chopsticks the proprietor came
in. He was a nobleman of Tashilhunpo, head of the Tondub Khangsar
family, and held the office of Chyangjob of the Tashi lama. He asked
Ugyen whence he had come, where he had put up, and what merchandise
(chong) he had for sale. The lady, under whose immediate supervision
this establishment is, is no less a personage than the wife of this
dignitary. Her manners were gentle and dignified, and she spoke in a
sweet and polite manner. Her head-dress was covered with innumerable
strings of pearls, worth certainly not less than Rs. 3000, and besides
these there were on it coral beads, rubies, turquoises, and other
precious stones. Although she belongs to one of the richest and noblest
families in Tsang (Ulterior Tibet), besides being connected with the
family from which the Tashi lama has sprung, yet she does not feel it
beneath her dignity to keep the accounts of the inn and superintend the
work of the servants.

December 15.—To-day was the twenty-fifth of the tenth Tibetan moon, and
one of the greatest holidays of the Gelugpa Church, being the
anniversary of the death of Tsongkhapa. It is known as Gadan namchoi.
In every chapel new torma [94] of tsamba take the place of the old
ones, which are now thrown away.

Late in the afternoon the Mongol monk Lobzang tanzing, to whom I have
previously referred, came to pay me his respects, and presented me a
long khatag and the carcass of a large sheep. He had only a few days
before been released from a two-months’ imprisonment, under suspicion
of being implicated in a case of forgery, and had been repeatedly
flogged. His tutor had been sentenced to three years of imprisonment,
and had been sent to the prison of Khamba djong.

In the evening the monks of Tashilhunpo busied themselves illuminating
their chapels. Hundreds of butter-lamps were tastefully placed in rows
on the roof of every building in the lamasery. The Government supplies
butter to every house in the town and to every resident monk, to enable
them to contribute towards the illumination. From the roof of my house
I saw the illuminations to great advantage. The fantastic roofs of the
four tombs (gyophig) of the Tashi lamas were beautifully lit up. The
mitre-shaped spires, the upturned eaves of the temple looked most
gorgeous, and resembled the illuminated tajiahs in a mohurum procession
in India. The great monastery of Tashilhunpo, situated as it is at the
foot of a hill, presented a magnificent appearance. For an hour the
illumination was beautiful, but towards 7.30 o’clock the wind began to
blow a gale, and had soon extinguished all the lights and driven me
into my house shivering with cold.

One of the newly incarnated lamas of Tashilhunpo, who had just arrived
from the province of Tu-kham, in Eastern Tibet, [95] took advantage of
to-day being a holiday to get himself admitted into the tu-kham tsan
order of monks. He invited the Panchen from Kun-khyab ling, and
presented to 3800 monks a tanka each, making also large presents to the
Grand Lama (of Lhasa?), his court, and the College of Incarnate Lamas.
At about 8 a.m. his holiness, the Panchen, [96] arrived, and was
received with due honours by the monks and State officials. The road
for about 300 yards was lined with red broadcloth and banners. Some old
lamas stood in a profoundly reverential attitude on either side of the
road, bearing divers sacred objects to receive the Panchen’s chyag-wang
(blessing [97]). Chinese trumpets, melodious flutes (gyaling), and
great resounding horns (dung ch’en) sounded in his honour. He took his
seat on an altar in the grand hall of worship (Tso khang), to preside
over the inaugural ceremonies. By 10 o’clock the ceremony was over, and
we saw the monks returning cheerfully to their cells, each bearing a
large flat cake, sticks of candy, and strings of beads. The new
incarnation, now admitted as a novice in Tashilhunpo, had gone through
the usual course of moral discipline and study like any other monk.
Within a year from the date of admission, every monk is required to
pass an examination in selections from the sacred books, of which he
must repeat from memory, and without a single mistake, 125 leaves.
Candidates coming from outside Tibet are generally allowed three years
to prepare for their final admission, which gives them the privileges
of a resident monk, with an allowance of food. Any one failing to pass
the final examination forfeits his rights to residence and his
allowances. Once admitted, the monk may rise, by dint of industry and
study, to the various degrees of lamahood. [98]

At noon there was a large crowd between Tashilhunpo and the Shigatse
djong (fort)—men and women in holiday dress, monks from the lamaseries,
and not a few Chinese, to witness the annual rope-dancing. A long rope
was stretched from the top of the fort to the foot of the lower castle
bridge, a distance of 300 feet or more. Then an athlete appeared, a
white khatag tied around his neck, and took his place at the upper end
of the rope. With his face turned upwards, he invoked the gods; then,
looking downwards, he invoked the nagas of the nether world, raising
his voice to its highest pitch, and at times shrieking in a terrific
manner. Then he scattered flour on all sides, and sang a snatch of a
song, to which some one in the crowd sang out a laughable reply. He
then let himself slide down the rope, exchanging jokes thrice with the
crowd on his way down, and finishing with a shriek. [99]

Phurchung and Ugyen, whom I had sent out to buy books for me, returned
towards 2 o’clock with a quantity, and later on, while I was sitting
making my choice of volumes, the bookseller’s son came in to carry back
those I did not require. I had a talk with him about different books,
and he gave me some very interesting information.

I engaged also, to-day, a new cook in place of Phurchung, whom I
proposed sending to Khamba djong to arrange for the conveyance from the
Lachan barrier to Khamba of the lithographic press bought for the
minister.

December 16.—Getting up from bed at 7 a.m., I spread two mattresses on
the third floor, opened the shutters, and, while basking in the sun and
sipping tea placed on a little table before me, began to turn over the
leaves of one of my newly purchased volumes. The residents of the
neighbouring houses peeped out from their windows to observe my manners
and habits. Henceforth I was careful to conduct myself like a good
gelong (priest). Reading attentively, writing and making notes was the
chief occupation of my days. It was not my habit to chant mantras, or
hymns, or say my beads, for in the former practice I was never
proficient, and with my beads I could only separate one bead from
another without any knowledge of the prayers meant to accompany that
mechanical action.

The new cook has proved no improvement on Phurchung; he is a sloven,
and though I promised him a reward for cleanliness, he neither washed
his face nor cleaned his teeth, [100] and always smelled most
offensively. Finally I got Phurchung to make him wash his clothes and
face. Our breakfast usually consisted of a few pieces of bread, tea,
and one or two cups of a thin paste made of boiled tsamba, mutton, and
dried milk, and called yatug. In the evening I met the Tung-chen, the
minister’s secretary, and talked to him about getting the lithographic
press here. Two of his friends were sitting with him, one of them
engaged in munching a piece of boiled mutton. He told me that the
Tung-chen had toothache, caused by worms in the root of a tooth, and
could only eat hashed or pounded meat. The secretary showed me the
cavities made, he said, by thread-shaped worms (ringpa). He had killed
several, he added, by inserting red-hot pins in the cavities. [101]

December 17.—A messenger arrived from Dongtse with a letter from the
minister asking Ugyen and me to come to Dongtse, a distance of about 40
miles, which town he was unable to leave, for various reasons, for some
time to come. Before leaving I was anxious to start off Phurchung for
Khamba djong, and also to get winter clothes for myself, as the cold
was getting keener every day. Our house, like all houses in Tibet, had
no chimney, and as the ceiling was covered with fine Chinese satin,
dung-fuel was most objectionable, so I had charcoal burnt in the room
in nicely made earthen stoves (jalang), paying about a rupee four annas
a maund weight.

At about noon a great procession arrived from Dechan Phodang [102] to
pay homage before the image of the Emperor of China kept in the
monastery. From the roof of the minister’s house I commanded an
excellent view of the southern and western quarters of the town. The
Tung-chen told me that to-day was a Chinese holiday, the anniversary of
their present Emperor’s accession to the throne, when all Chinese and
subjects of the Emperor are required to offer him homage and to pray to
Heaven for his long life and prosperity. Within the monastery there
exists an image of the Emperor of China, probably Chien-lung, to pay
reverence to which the procession I now saw, headed by the Lhasa Shape,
the Ambans, the Shape Bora of Tsang, was now advancing. Flag-bearers
and a mounted troop came first, then Tibetan officials, in their best
apparel of brocaded satin (kinkab), painted with the dragon of the
Tartars, and Chinese satins of various colours and patterns, riding on
richly caparisoned ponies, were marching slowly and solemnly towards
the western gate of the monastery. The Chinese were conspicuous by
their pigtails and petticoats, and, though very well dressed, were all
black and of villainous appearance, greatly contrasting with the
respectable Tibetan gentry, which forced me to think that they were all
recruited from low-class people from Western China; and the Tung-chen
told me that these men were noted in Tibet for their dissipated and
licentious habits.

Some men carried boards about two feet square, on which were written
the Amban’s titles and his commission to supreme authority over the
whole of Tibet. [103] Some of these inscriptions were in Chinese, and
were carried by Chinamen; others, in the Tibetan language, were carried
by Tibetans. The Shape also rode, their advance heralded by two men who
warned passers-by to keep out of the way. Each was escorted by three
mounted men, one on either side of him, and one marching in front,
keeping off the crowd with whips, which they freely used, while two
grooms ran behind holding his horse’s tail. There were about three
hundred dignitaries and gentlemen of the provinces of U and Tsang,
besides the followers and retainers of the Ambans. The Ambans’ sedan
chairs were carried by eight Chinese soldiers to each, and some fifty
Tibetan soldiers helped to drag them with long cords attached to the
bars of the chairs. [104] After paying homage at the sacred chapels and
tombs of the departed saints, the procession came out of the monastery
by the eastern gate, and, headed by the Shape Bora, marched across the
market-place towards Kun-khyab ling. First came the officers of state,
then followed the paymaster’s (Pogpon [105]) party, then the Chinese
officials, followed by the chief Amban in his state chair. The flags,
carried in tasteful array, were all of China silk, those at the point
of the lances of the guard being of brocade, and inscribed in Chinese
and Tibetan. Throughout the march the Tibetans occupied a subordinate
position, and the Chinese displayed their superiority in every possible
way. Though the crowd had reason to fear a whipping from the Chinese,
who ran on all sides, they did not suffer from the Amban’s guard. The
junior Amban, as he followed on horseback, seemed pleased to see the
heavily chained prisoners, the recently punished headmen groaning under
the weight of their cangues. His sedan chair was carried by the same
number of soldiers as that of the senior Amban, and his retinue and
followers resembled his. Then came the other Shape with their
respective retinues. The guards were all armed with Chinese matchlocks
and long spears. Following them came the captains and lieutenants of
the army, with a hundred men; and behind these marched the yellow and
black turbaned officers of Labrang and the Djong. The Ambans were
received by his Holiness, the Panchen, with due honours, and they paid
him the reverence due to his exalted position and holy character.

In the evening I saw the Tung-chen, who gave me a very valuable
manuscript entitled Dsamling gyeshe, or “General account of the world.”
[106] I carried it off with me to my house to read.

December 18.—The Tung-chen sent one of his storekeepers, Tsering-tashi
by name, to Tondub Khangsar to get a passport (lam-yig) to enable me to
send Phurchung to Khamba djong and Lachan, to bring here our heavy
luggage. The tailor came at 7 o’clock this morning to begin work on my
winter clothes. We kept ready for him a kettle of tea on an earthen
stove. A cup, a few pieces of boiled mutton, and a wooden bowl filled
with tsamba remained all the time before him, and he drank some tea
every hour or so, making also three meals a day. His breakfast
consisted of mutton, tsamba, and tea; at noon we gave him a dish of
rice and mutton curry, tsamba, and tea; and at 6 o’clock he ate a few
balls of tsamba, put on his yellow turban (bakto), and, making a low
bow, walked off towards his home at Tashi-gyantsa. I was much pleased
with his steady work, which had earned for him the proud title of Uje
chenpo, or “head craftsman,” [107] and secured for him a tanka a day
wages, exclusive of food.

December 19.—Tsering-tashi was despatched again after the passport. The
delay in securing it was occasioned by the Tung-chen not having tipped
the clerks and officials who had charge of the matter. The senior Amban
started to-day for Lhasa viâ Gyantse and Nangartse djong. All the
ponies of Shigatse had been requisitioned to supply his numerous
retinue with riding and pack animals, so the junior Amban and the Shape
could not get off for want of ula, and the local authorities of Gyantse
were ordered to supply what they could to them as soon as the senior
Amban reached their place. In the meanwhile the Chinese were strolling
about the Shigatse market, carrying off the best of everything, paying
nothing, or only a nominal price for the things they took. People
coming into town saw their ponies seized by the ta-u officers for the
Amban’s service, and started off with loads to Gyantse. My men could
buy nothing, for most of the people had packed up their wares and fled;
but they managed to purchase some mutton and rice inside the monastery,
and we found out that good things could be had there at comparatively
moderate prices.

December 20.—I passed most of my day reading a collection of hymns, the
composition of the second Dalai lama, [108] which I had bought from a
Lhasan bookseller. To-day there arrived five men from Gyantse, whose
advent was at once detected by the Rogyabas, for these pests are always
on the look-out for new-comers, whom they at once surround with
clamorous solicitations for alms. Few can escape from their hands
without paying them something. As soon as the Rogyabas saw these
Gyantse men, they informed all the fraternity of the new prey, on which
vulture-like they pounced. Well do they deserve their name, which means
“corpse-vultures,” though, to speak the truth, they prey on the living.
[109] These Gyantse men brought news about the orders issued by the
Lhasa Government stopping the egress and ingress of all traders at the
frontier passes. The two Djongpon of Phagri were busy executing these
orders; no one, it was said, had eluded their vigilance and reached
Darjiling. Even some Bhutanese traders on their way to Lhasa were
stopped at Phagri; but another party of these people had started out,
in defiance of the Djongpon, for Lhasa. The Bhutan Government resented
such unusual interference on the part of the Tibetans in a trade which
had been carried on from ancient times.

December 21.—To-day is the new moon (nam-gang, or “full night”), one of
the holiest days of the month. The conch-shells called loudly the lamas
to prayers. From break of day to an hour after sunset large numbers of
men and women circumambulated the monastery, some carrying strings of
beads, others prayer-wheels. Early in the morning the Nepalese, beating
cymbals and chanting Sanskrit mantras, walked around the great
monastery.

Towards 10 o’clock my attention was attracted by an unusual scene to
the east of the monastery, where the entire space between the great
mendong of the market-place and the eastern gateway of Tashilhunpo was
filled with beggars, both men and women. Among them were people from
Amdo and Khams, whose eyes had been put out for crimes such as
murdering lamas; some were cripples and walked with crutches, some in
heavy chains and drawn on wheelbarrows, some maimed, others deaf and
dumb, others, again, still bearing traces of the torture to which they
had been subjected—a vast concourse of misery and pain. In their midst
stood the well-known Lhagpa-tsering distributing alms, an anna to each
one. For ten years past he had done thus on the first of every moon.
The circumstances which led this worthy man to undertake giving alms to
the indigent is very remarkable and instructive.

Lhagpa-tsering had been a silversmith, and had by patient work amassed
such wealth that he established himself as a jeweller and banker. His
business prospered; in his shop were all kinds of goods—fine china,
besides pearls, coral, turquoises, and jade; and here came all the
great men of the country. He became noted also for his munificent gifts
to the lamasery of Tashilhunpo. Some ten years ago there lived at Shang
a saintly lama called Chyabtam lama; the purity of his life and his
vast learning had made him an object of worship for all classes of
people in Tsang. The jeweller Lhagpa, believing that if he made
offering to so holy a personage his profits in trade would increase a
hundred-fold, went to Shang and offered the lama Rs. 1250, besides
numerous objects of value. The saint refused them all, telling him that
they represented dishonest earnings, and were the property of a
dishonest man. “In a previous existence you were a great sinner, and in
your next you will be a crocodile.”

On the following morning Lhagpa, filled with horror at his impending
fate, came and begged the sage to tell him how he might avert the
horrible punishment—what acts of charity, what good deeds would save
him; but the lama made no reply. Again the next day he came, and the
saint looked in his magic mirror, and said, “If henceforth you give
alms to the poor and helpless, of whatever station, creed, or country
they may be, on every new moon throughout the year till your death, you
will surely get immense wealth, as well as escape from rebirth as a
crocodile. There are no other means to save you;” and he sent Lhagpa
away without accepting his gifts. Since then he has been in the habit
of distributing alms on the first day of the moon. His example has
produced a wholesome influence on the merchants of Khams, who now show
some hesitation in cheating. A trader, when he cheats others, thinks,
as a general rule, if he is a Buddhist, that the amount thus gained was
due to him in a previous existence. This is a dangerous principle.

Close to the cemetery of Shigatse, called Kega tsal, is the Chinese
graveyard, where there are about three hundred tombs of varying size
and very rude construction. At a short distance from this is the
parade-ground, about half a mile square, called Jah-hu-tang, and
touching it a walled enclosure, used for target practice with bow and
gun, in the centre of which is a large house used by the Ambans. On the
sides are high towers for the drum-beaters and trumpet-blowers. The
headmen of the whole country had assembled here to-day to muster the
porters and pack-ponies required by the junior Amban and the Tibetan
officials returning to Lhasa. Three hundred ponies were ready, and it
was decided that one man should accompany each horse. Orders had been
given by the Amban to requisition all the ponies in the province, no
matter whether they belonged to subjects, traders, or pilgrims.

December 22.—To-day, at 9 a.m., the junior Amban, with a retinue of 300
men on horseback, left for Lhasa. The owners of the relay ponies
followed them on foot, keeping pace with the ponies, or if they lagged
behind they were whipped by the men on horseback; so that some dropped
out and disappeared, abandoning their property to the Chinese rather
than undergo their ill treatment. Of the six village headmen exiled to
Re and Khamba djong for their share in the recent trouble, I learnt
to-day that one had died on the road, and another is hanging between
life and death.

December 23.—To-day the Shape Lhalu and 100 followers, all on
horseback, left for Lhasa. The ponies and the men who have to accompany
them on the ula are treated with great hardship. They have to carry
their food with them, as well as provender for their beasts. In the
present case they had received but short notice, and are ill prepared
for the long journey. This forced service is, however, patiently borne
by the people, as it is a recognized custom of the country.

The market to-day received a large supply of pottery from the village
of Tanag and Lholing, on the Tsang-po, a few miles north-west of
Shigatse. In these localities excellent potter’s clay is obtainable,
and the people carry on a profitable trade in earthenware with the
surrounding districts. The Tanag pottery has not only an extensive sale
in Tibet, but in the cis-Himalayan countries as well, where most
utensils are of untinned copper, and the Sikkim and Darjiling people
use them exclusively in preference to the earthenware made by the
Nepalese inhabiting the Lower Himalayas. The Tanag earthenware is
carried to the banks of the Tsang-po on donkeys, and there transferred
to hide-boats (kodru), in which it is brought down to the Patama ferry,
about four miles to the north-east of Shigatse. The Patama dealers,
who, by the way, raise fine crops on the alluvial soil along the river
banks, and make a good deal of money by fishing and ferrying, carry the
earthenware to Shigatse on donkeys that jog slowly along the road to
the jingle of big bells fastened around their necks. The Lholing
pottery is brought to Shigatse viâ Tanag; this locality manufactures
very large vessels for keeping wine or water in, and so heavy that two
men can hardly lift them. The Tanag pottery is so highly glazed that it
compares favourably with the Chinese and European earthenware sold in
the Calcutta shops. [110]

There were on the market-place many wildly dressed Dokpas of the Chang
province. The women wore such heavy and fantastic apparel that one who
had not before seen them might well be taken aback. From a distance
these savages looked as if they wished to imitate the peacock’s gaudy
plumes in their costume; they had so many beads of glass, coral, amber,
and turquoise suspended from their headdress that one could hardly see
their faces.

To-day the tailor finished our winter suits, consisting of a Chinese
coat (kwa-tse) and trousers (pishu). [111] The lambskin lining in all
the suits was quite neatly sewed. I was also furnished with a foxskin
(wapa) cap, made after the Lhasa fashion. Provided with these, I felt
well equipped for my journey to Dongtse. To make the linings of the
coat, I had bought about sixty fine lamb-skins at a cost of Rs. 7.8.
These skins appeared to have been obtained from very young lambs, which
must have died shortly after birth, for the cost of a single piece of
skin was not more than three or four annas, and as the live lambs would
fetch at least double that price, it is not likely that they had been
killed for their skins. It is, however, not unusual for the shepherds
to kill ewes for the soft skin of their unborn lambs, for they fetch a
high price. The demand from China for this kind of lamb-skin has,
however, of late years much decreased, and the practice of killing ewes
for the purpose of obtaining them is becoming rare. [112]

In the evening Tsering-tashi brought us the passport from the Tondub
Khangar, to enable us to bring our things from Lachan to Tashilhunpo.
Though it is customary to issue passports in open covers, this one was
enclosed in a letter to the Djongpon of Khamba, and we were therefore
unable to know its wording, but feared from this fact that some orders,
probably to examine closely our packages, were contained in it. The
Tung-chen, however, did not apprehend that any trouble would arise from
this fact, but we could not share his confidence.

December 24.—In the morning, after washing, I went upstairs to sit in
the sun. The cook brought tea and placed the pot on the stove before
me. I had emptied three or four cups, warming my numbed hands against
the warm cup, when Dungyig Phurching, a copyist, arrived, and was
shortly followed by the Khamba Dungyig. [113] I received the first with
“chyag-pheb nang-chig” (“Please come in”), extending my right hand
towards him, and, as an additional mark of respect to the latter, I
half raised myself from my seat and placed him on my left hand on the
same rug on which I was sitting. After an exchange of the usual
compliments, he opened a bundle of papers and showed me an almanac he
was engaged in copying for the minister.

He said he was sorry that he was unable to copy the manuscript of the
Dsam-ling-gyeshe, but recommended Dungyig Phurching; and the latter
agreed to do the copying at the rate of six leaves for a tanka,
exclusive of ink and paper.

To-day news arrived of the death of the Tsopon Shanku, one of the six
headmen, and the richest among them, punished on account of the late
riot. I saw several monks and laymen carrying from the monastery to
Shigatse three huge copper caldrons, about five feet in diameter, and I
learnt that tea and tugpa (a soup of tsamba, minced meat, and radishes)
were to be prepared in them for the entertainment of upwards of a
thousand beggars in honour of the deceased. The caldrons belong to the
lamasery, and were loaned for the occasion.

During market-time Ugyen visited a Nepalese (Balpo) [114] friend in
Shigatse, from whom he learnt that Nepalese trade was suffering greatly
by the introduction of Calcutta goods on the Tibetan market. “The Balpo
traders,” he said, “used to make a hundred per centum profit in former
times, but nowadays the introduction of Calcutta goods by shorter
routes than the Katmandu one we have to follow has caused a great
falling off in our profits and the bulk of our trade.”

Later on in the day the Tung-chen’s men came and told us of the
arrangements made for our journey to Dongtse, and that we were to be
ready to start on the following morning. As we would only remain at
Dongtse a very short while—for the minister was expected to return in a
few days to Tashilhunpo—we were told not to take many things with us,
and were not to hire donkeys, as we had intended, to carry our luggage.
I passed the evening writing letters to send home by Phurchung, who was
to start at the same time as we did for the Sikkim frontier.



CHAPTER III.

JOURNEY TO DONGTSE.


December 26.—We were up early, finishing our letters and getting
Phurchung ready for his journey to the Sikkim frontier. After tea I
sent Ugyen to the market to buy provisions for our journey, and he
brought back a large quantity of ping, a piece of mutton, and
vegetables, and also purchased some fresh gya-tug (vermicelli), of
which I had become very fond. Two strong ponies were waiting saddled
for us in charge of a groom at the western gateway (gyalgo) of the
monastery. Our traps and bags being made over to the charge of the
Tung-chen’s men, we left Tashilhunpo at 3 p.m., and rode off at a
gentle trot towards the village of Tashi-gyantsa. The Tung-chen wore
his church raiment, and a silk-lined chosa, [115] or clerical hat,
covered his head; but as soon as we had reached this village he changed
it for a fox-skin cap lined with brown satin. The view of Tashilhunpo
from Tashi-gyantsa was most beautiful, and the four gilded tombs of the
former Tashi lamas, situated in the middle of the lamasery, blazed in
the rays of the sun. [116]

One approaches Tashi-gyantsa by a lane cut through a hillock some 20
feet high, on top of which the village stands. The alleys are crooked
and dirty, the houses of comfortable appearance, are painted with clay
in bands of red, black, and blue colour, and surrounded by walls
forming a courtyard in front of each. On the left of the road is a
neatly constructed mendong. The whole village is inhabited by clerks,
copyists, painters, and artisans from Tashilhunpo, most of whom get
allowances (pod) from Labrang. Cattle (jo) are plentiful in the
village, and as we passed, a few yaks with pack-saddles on their backs
were being led off from the village by two tall, savage-looking men
dressed in goatskin gowns (bokhu). The old people sat in their
doorways, warming themselves in the sun, and a caravan of yaks and
donkeys had halted at the chorten just outside the village.

We passed by Perong shavea, a group of hamlets, in the midst of which
is a little garden and a willow grove; then by the village of
Deki-rabdan; and when two miles from Tashi-gyantsa we reached the large
village of Khara Tedong, the chief of which is a Dahpon (general),
lately dismissed from a command at Gartok, near Rudok. Judging from the
outward appearance of the houses, the village is prosperous. Passing
the villages of Sunapara and Sarsha, and leaving Doring and Semaron on
our right, we came, after two miles, to the Num chu, now a nearly
dried-up stream, which comes down from the mountains to the north-west
of Nartang, which border the plateau-like valley of Chyugpu shung. A
little to the east of this stream is the large village of Gyatso-shar,
composed of a dozen hamlets forming two or three groups.

At 5 p.m. we reached the village of Chyang chu, about a quarter of a
mile from the Num chu, belonging to our friend the minister. To the
east of the hamlet is a little garden, and in it a small house called
Lobding; here the minister spends a few days during the autumn
holidays, and takes the baths. Chyang chu is the birthplace of the
Tung-chen, and we put up in his house, at the gate of which were
chained two big mastiffs. Two servants assisted us to alight from our
ponies, and two held the dogs back while we walked in. The headman of
the village, the Deba Shikha, [117] received us, and recognized me as
an old acquaintance. We were conducted to the central room of the upper
story, where we found two stuffed seats (bu-dan) spread for us. The
room, though spacious, was dark and dusty, and a heap of yak-hair bags,
resembling Indian gunnies, filled a corner of the room. My servant,
Lhagpa-sring, spread my khamba rug on the seats, and busied himself
fetching our bags and traps from the courtyard. The Deba presently
arrived, and begged us to refresh ourselves with tea and chang. Lhagpa,
looking with peculiar eagerness at the maid-servant who was pouring
chang in Ugyen’s cup, winked at her to fill his cup from her bowl, but
to his disappointment she turned away; but shortly after another maid
appeared with a large bowl, and poured out wine to the servants. Then
the Deba’s wife, with a very pretty jug in her hand, came to serve me,
but I declined. After a few minutes dinner was served in tin-lined
copper dishes resembling salad-bowls, the first course consisting of
minced mutton and tsamba. This was followed by minced mutton and
vermicelli, the Deba waiting upon me himself, to show me the attention
due to a guest from a distant country.

After dinner the Tung-chen, who had taken his meal in a separate room,
led me to his mother’s room, where old lady Angla [118] and the Deba’s
son, Damdul, were sitting around a blazing fire in a stove (jalang).
The old lady had seen upwards of eighty summers, and her hair was snowy
white. I joined the party, which was shortly added to by the entrance
of several other members of the household, and we sat drinking tea and
talking of the sacred cities of India, of Vajrashena, Varanasi, and
Kapilavastu, and the state of Buddhism in modern India. Angla sighed
repeatedly when she heard that all their sacred places in India were
now in ruins. I then gave her a short history of ancient India and
Tibet, which delighted the whole party, and the Tung-chen expressed
himself highly pleased with my narrative. Before taking leave for the
night of my kind host, I presented the Tung-chen with a couple of
rupees, and his mother with one. They very reluctantly accepted them,
saying, however, that as it was their duty to please me, they would not
deny me the pleasure of making them presents. Lhagpa led me to my bed,
which was spread in a corner of the room where we had dined; and the
Deba, coming in to see if I was comfortable, found my wraps rather
light, and brought me two thick blankets, in which my servant wrapped
me up.

December 26.—The Deba has a dozen jomo and cows yielding plenty of
milk. A jomo yields four times the quantity of milk which a cow or
female yak gives. The di yak cow, which pastures on mountain-tops,
yields ordinarily two seers of milk a day, is not much prized, though
yak milk is both sweet and wholesome; but the Tibetans value very
highly the jo, which is, besides a good milker, most useful in
husbandry.

The women of the house were up by four and busy milking and churning.
The village looked from afar like one big house, but it is in reality
composed of a number of houses, each with a courtyard in front. The
place is vulgarly called the “Anthill” (Dog tsang [119]), on account of
the great number of serfs inhabiting it. After breakfast, which
consisted of boiled mutton, minced radish, and pa-tug, or balls of
flour cooked in mutton broth, we mounted our ponies and started off.

To the south-west of Gyatsho-shar [120] is the plateau of Chyugpu
Shung, dotted with numerous hamlets, chief of which is Lhena djong.
About two miles from Chyang chu is Norgya Nangpa, with numerous hamlets
surrounding it, and one mile and a half to the east of Norgya, where
the valley approaches the edge of the mountains to the south, is Kena,
[121] composed of a dozen hamlets. The houses of Kena are well built
and prosperous looking, the door-frames and windows showing
considerable taste, and the walls of most of them painted with long
blue and red stripes, the favourite colours of the Tibetans. From Kena
the mountains of Pankor-shornub, [122] notorious as a lair of brigands,
were clearly discernible, and far to the east, across the Nyang chu, we
could just discern the village of Sanga-ling. At Kena we crossed, by a
culvert some fifteen feet long, an irrigation canal which comes down
from Nyang chu. From this point our way lay over a barren plateau more
than two miles broad; in the upper part of it are several villages, in
the largest of which is the Shalu monastery. A little above the
junction of the Shalu with the Nyang chu stands the hamlet of Chuta
Chyangma, three or four dilapidated mud hovels, the ground everywhere
overgrown with thistles and briars. Here, we were told, the Grand
Lama’s [123] camels are pastured in winter. The Nyang chu flows here in
several channels, and some cranes were seeking for food in the ice
along the banks.

Going south-eastward for nearly two miles and a half, we reached a
fertile tract of land, in which stand the villages of Panam-gang,
Jorgya, Pishi, Penagangdo, and Natog, [124] which, we were told,
belonged to Hamdang Kam-tsan of Tashilhunpo. At Jorgya, which belongs
to the Djongpon of Pagri, the same who stopped Sir Richard Temple near
Chumbi, there is an irrigation canal running from the Nyang chu, and on
its bank is a beautiful garden bordered with poplars, willows, and
other fine trees. Its walks are tastefully laid out, and the
two-storied building in its centre is the finest one this side of
Tashilhunpo. In the principal lane of this village is a deep well about
four or five feet in circumference at the mouth, and a number of women
were drawing water from it in sheep’s paunches.

A short distance beyond Jorgya we came to Pishi Mani Lhakhang in a
grove of poplars and willows, with a large orchard and several hamlets
close by. This place, which belongs to the Pishi Deba, is famous for
its manufacture of a superior quality of serge and broadcloth called
unam. [125] At the entrance to the Mani Lhakhang, a chorten-shaped
edifice, are rows of drum-shaped prayer-wheels. [126] Five furlongs
farther on we passed through Panam-doi, [127] and two miles beyond this
place we came to the village of Taugang (or Tagong). The trail—for
there is no regular road—then led by Patsal, Belung, to Penjang, from
which village we could see, on the hillside beyond the Nyang chu, the
large monastery of Kadong. We were now in the district of Panam, [128]
said to be very fertile, and to this the numerous hamlets scattered
about give testimony. A mile to the south of Tagong we came to
Tashigang, around which there is no vegetation, not a blade of grass
nor a tree, nothing but sand and gravel. Here we were to spend the
night. We were kindly received by an old lady, Angputi by name, and
shown by the servant up a flight of stone steps to the top floor, where
rugs were spread for us. Angputi had a headdress (patug) studded with
flawed turquoises and faded coral; she had worn it, she said, for
nearly twenty years, and purposed leaving it as a legacy to her second
son. Shortly after we were seated, her daughter, a nun who had lately
arrived on leave from her convent, brought us a kettle of tea and two
wooden bowls of tsamba. [129] The Tung-chen was given the room the
minister uses when travelling along this road. It was provided with
curtains, silk-covered ceiling, some nice tables, and had in it several
volumes of Yum scriptures, [130] a small chapel, two dozen bells,
oblation cups, a sofa-like altar, and a number of pictures. The rugs in
this room were made of the finest Panam wool, and were the best
articles of furniture in the house. After drinking tea, the hostess
brought me some boiled and dried mutton, tsamba, and tea. This kind of
present is usually offered to guests on their arrival in a house, and
is called solichi, [131] or “first show.”

December 27.—Leaving the Tashigang valley, we came to the foot of the
range which here borders the left bank of the Nyang. Two and a half
miles to the south-west (east?) there is a precipice called Ritong,
where some twenty years ago two generals of Lhasa were murdered by the
usurper Gadan Gyahu. At this point we obtained a fine view of the fort
of Panam, of Gontai, of Takar, Palri, [132] and various other
monasteries. Up to this point the river banks are overgrown with furze,
brambles, and various thorny plants of which it is said camels are very
fond.

Two miles to the west (east?) of this place we came to a large village,
called Tsog-chi, [133] with an imposing castle, formerly the residence
of several noted generals, but now the property of one of the chief
civil officers (Dung-khor [134]) of Lhasa. Close by is Dukpa-nagpa,
formerly a town of Sorcerers or Nagpa, [135] but now mostly in ruins,
and inhabited by only a half-dozen families.

A mile and a half farther on we came to Norpa khyung-djin (“Eagle’s
Gem” [136]), where there was once an important lamasery of the Karmapa
sect. Its ruins crown the hilltop, and the village, of a hundred
houses, is scattered along the slope and the base of the hills. Near
this place is Nembotong and Pangang. [137]

In the upland near Taimen, [138] a hamlet of three huts, where the wind
that sweeps the broad plateau on which this place is built has drifted
the sand in long waves, are the villages of Phola and Wangdan. The
former place is the birthplace of King Miwang, and the latter is noted
for the excellence of its rugs. Due south from Taimen, and at the head
of the broad valley which opens between that place and Norpa
khyung-djin, is the Gingu la, over which a trail runs to Retoi, or
Upper Re, near Iago, and also the fort of Darchung djong. [139]

A little more than a mile in a southerly direction from Taimen brought
us to Shar-chyog Aniung, also called Isa. [140] The poplar and willow
groves around it give it a most prosperous appearance. Here we overtook
a monk of the Dongtse monastery, sent by the minister to fetch him some
books from the Kahdong gomba, near Panam djong. His tall, lithe frame,
but poorly covered with torn raiment, his curious boots and headdress,
and the bundle of incense-sticks slung like a quiver across his back,
evoked smiles from our party as he walked swiftly along, keeping pace
with our ponies. Across numerous frozen irrigation ditches, and through
various little hamlets of three and four houses, the road led us by
Taling, Dao-targe, [141] and Pangri, to the village of Nesar, where
live some twenty families. Just before reaching this place a mad dog
ran by, and though it bit an old man and several donkeys, the Tung-chen
would not let me shoot it. Nesar has, on the hillside above it, a
neatly built temple and a number of small towers, the latter sacred to
the sylvan goddesses or Mamos. The images of Shenrezig and Padma
Sambhava are painted on the walls of its mani lhakhang and on the
towers on the hill. A little beyond this village we fell in with four
Khambas, each armed with a long, straight sword, who were
unquestionably highwaymen. Their dress and features showed them to be
natives of Gyarong, in Markham, in the eastern part of Tibet. [142]

At 5 o’clock we arrived at Dongtse. [143] The monastery where the
minister was residing was on a rocky eminence some 300 feet above the
village. After walking up several flights of stone steps, we reached
the gateway in the now partly ruined wall of the monastery. Near this I
was welcomed by the minister’s page, and led to the eastern room of his
master’s apartments, which had been set apart for my use. Before we had
finished drinking tea a message came calling me to the minister’s
presence. With two scarves and a couple of rupees in our hands, we
proceeded to the drawing-room, and approached his holiness with
profound salutations. He touched our heads with his hand, and returned
us the scarves we had in the first place presented him, tying them
around our necks. His holiness graciously inquired after our health,
and asked if we had not suffered great privations and hardships on the
way. We gave a brief account of our troubles in the snows and of our
miraculous escape at Tashi-rabka. “By the grace of the Three Holies,”
[144] I added, “we have overcome all difficulties, and now our delight
is boundless in being able to present ourselves at last at your
Holiness’s feet.” The minister expressed his regrets at our sufferings
and his pleasure on our safe arrival after an absence of three years.
He had to go to prayers, but before leaving he gave orders that all
proper attentions be shown us. Large dishes of biscuits, bread, fruit,
and meat were then placed before us, and tea was poured into our cups
from the minister’s own pot, as a mark of his special favour.

December 28.—After we had finished taking tea the page Ka-chan Gopa
called us to the minister’s presence, to whom we gave a detailed
account of our journey. After listening with attention, he observed,
“Pundib la, I fail to see why you chose such a dangerous route as that
by the Kangla chen and Tashi-rabka, for you had the passport issued to
you three years ago by which you were permitted to return to Tsang by
way of Khamba djong. Did not the officials at that place treat you well
when you passed there on your way back to India?” I replied saying that
I had feared that difficulties might have been raised by the Sikkim
Durbar at the instance of the Phodang lama, who had of late been making
trouble in Sikkim. The minister again remarked that there had been no
necessity for our undertaking such a difficult and perilous journey
through the Tingri djong country, when we had the Grand Lama’s (Panchen
Rinpoche’s) passport authorizing us to cross the Lachan pass, which was
very easy and free from snow. After a short conversation he retired to
his contemplation room (oratory).

December 29.—We had an interview with the minister in the Nihog [145]
on the roof of the Tsug-la-khang, over which a canopy had been spread.
His holiness said that since last I had been to Tibet he had composed
two large volumes on the history of the philosophical schools of Tibet,
and that they were now being stereotyped at the Namring monastery. He
showed us the manuscript of the second volume, and read us extracts
from it.

December 30.—After breakfast Ugyen-gyatso and I went to make obeisance
to the deities (choi jal), carrying with us a bundle of incense-sticks,
two tankas’ worth of clarified butter, and about a dozen khatag, to
present as offerings to the gods. Descending a steep ladder, we came to
the lobby of the congregation hall (du-khang) of the Tsug-la-khang. The
portico faced eastward; its painted wooden pillars had capitals most
fantastically and picturesquely carved, the walls painted in fresco,
with relief images of the sixteen Sthaviras (Naten chudug [146])
gorgeously coloured, but of a much lower style of work than what is
seen in India, though the thick coat of varnish which covered them hid
their defects, when not examined too closely.

The most remarkable part of the building was the floor made of pebbles,
nicely set and smoothly beaten to make a glossy surface. [147] The
du-khang is about 25 feet long and 20 broad; the images of the gods
were arranged on a beautifully carved wooden and metal altar along the
north and south-west side of the building, the principal ones occupying
niches. Most of the images were very old, and of gilt-copper, called
ser-zang (“gilt-copper”), and had been made with much skill. The image
of the Lord (Jovo) Buddha had been made, the Tung-chen told me, by a
great Indian Buddhist in imitation of the great image of Shakya tuba at
Lhasa. [148] The founder of the monastery, Je Lha-tsun, once prayed
that the gods might send him a skilful artist to make images for the
newly built lamasery; and shortly afterwards an Indian visited Dongtse,
made this image, and then returned to India. The Tung-chen, when he had
told me this, smilingly asked me if I was not a reincarnation of this
Indian Buddhist, and I felt proud to hear of my countrymen being so
highly admired and venerated. Ugyen-gyatso prostrated himself before
every one of the images, and touched with his head their feet or body,
and I showed my veneration for these sacred shrines by touching with my
head their right hand, to thus receive their chyag wang (blessing). My
companions muttered mantras and made prayers to them, while I felt
reverential gratitude to the Supreme Ruler alone, whose merciful
providence had brought me safe thus far.

The roof of the du-khang is supported by two rows of pillars of wood,
on the artistically constructed capitals of which hang shields and
quivers full of arrows, the arms of the Dharmapalas, [149] with which
they protect Buddhism against demons and heretics. From the ceiling of
the hall hang rich China brocades, with dragons magnificently
embroidered on them in gold and silver. Among the various pictures seen
here, the most interesting is that of the first Dalai lama,
Lobzang-gyatso, in which he is portrayed receiving the kingdom of Tibet
from the Mongol conqueror, Gushi Khan. His prime minister, the
celebrated Desi Sangye, is seated on his left, and is thanking the
magnanimous and liberal prince for his munificent gift on behalf of his
thrice holy master. I was also shown the dais reserved for the
minister. Opposite it, and at the top of the second row of seats
reserved for the monks, is a chair three feet high, on which the head
lama of the monastery sits during service. There is accommodation for
about eighty monks in this hall, and I was told that service is held in
it daily, at which most of the monks are present. They receive a
monthly allowance of sixty pounds of barley from the church endowment
fund (labrang gzi). This they parch and grind themselves, and bring a
little supply of it daily with them to the hall in a small bag, to eat
with the tea, which is given them three times during each service, and
is furnished from the church stores (labrang djo). On returning from
the choi jal, I was called to the minister’s, whom I found seated on a
satin-covered cushion in the shade of a nyi-hok on the roof of the
third story of the chief temple of the Tsug-la-khang.

His page (shabdung), [150] Ka-chan Gopa, placed a cup of tea before me,
together with some tsamba, meat, and twisted sugar-biscuits. The
minister raised his cup to his lips, and graciously said, “Drink,
Pundit, please” (Pundib la, sol ja nang). I at once drank a third of my
cup, as etiquette requires, and every time he drank I also took a sip.
He made inquiries respecting the lithographic press and the various
other articles which I had brought to present to him, and which were
now on the way to Tashilhunpo. After dinner he showed me a work he was
writing on history, rhetoric, astrology, and photography. The latter
section he had composed from notes I had furnished him, in 1879, from
Tassinder’s ‘Manual of Photography,’ and I was delighted to see the
diagrams he had drawn to represent the various photographic apparatus I
had then left with him. He afterwards read to me an account of the
ancient controversies between the Brahmans and Buddhists of India.

While we were thus engaged the page informed him that the Dahpon [151]
Phala and Kung Chyang-chan were approaching Dongtse, so we went to the
top of the fourth story of the Dongtse choide to see them arrive. The
Dahpon being the chief of Dongtse, the monks had to show him due
respect. When the party got near the foot of the hill on which the
choide stands, two monks in full canonicals blew two long copper
hautboys (horns?), two others played on a clarionet-like instrument
called gya-ling; and when the party came to the grove, or linga, in
front of the castle, the Chya-dso-pa [152] received them with his
band—a gong and two tambourines. The Daphon and his friend rode
spirited mules gaudily caparisoned with brocades and tinsel. They were
preceded by five sowars, and followed by an equal number, all carrying
lances with pennants at their points. The minister told me that of the
four Daphons, or commanders of forces in Tsang, two are ordinarily
stationed at Shigatse, one at Gyantse, and one at Tengri.

December 31.—I was anxious to take a trip to Gyantse, which Ugyen said
was only eight miles distant, and could be reached in two hours. He
dissuaded me, however, saying it would not be prudent, as that place is
frequented by Bhutia traders from Darjiling and Phagri. At nine I was
called in to the minister’s, and read a few sentences of English from
the ‘Royal Reader No. 1’ with him. After this I asked to be allowed to
visit the great temple of Gyantse, called the “Palkhor choide.” “If you
want to visit Gyantse,” he replied, “I will arrange it for you; but you
must bear in mind that the people of that town are not good. They speak
much, and are given to spinning a great deal out of a little. I will
have the Tung-chen take you there.” Ugyen-gyatso then asked if he might
go there, as he wanted to buy me some blankets; and having obtained the
minister’s authorization, he left at noon.

January 1, 1882.—For about half an hour the minister practised writing
the Roman characters on a wooden slate (chyang-shing) about two feet
long and ten inches broad. A little bag of powdered chalk was tied to
it; and when the slate had been washed and dried, the minister rubbed
the chalk-bag lightly over the board, and thus covered it with a thin
white film. In this he scratched letters with a steel style about a
foot long. I told him of the slates we had in India—how much more
convenient and neat they were than his rude contrivance. He smiled and
said, “My chyang-shing is a very nice one; even the great ministers of
China use the like; [153] but they are not clean. And if you can get me
a couple of your Indian slates from Calcutta, I shall be much obliged.”

January 2.—In the morning preparations were made for a grand reception
of the Dahpon Phala and Kung Chyang-chan, the Tsipon. [154] All the
furniture of the room we occupied was replaced by choice articles from
the minister’s storeroom. Silk drapings and curtains were hung in the
waiting-room and lobby, beautiful silk cushions were spread in the
minister’s drawing-room, and its ceiling made resplendent with a
covering of orange-coloured Chinese brocade. Artistically worked
dragons appeared everywhere—on the ceiling draperies, on the curtains,
and even in the carpets. Handsome dining-tables, three feet by eighteen
inches, and two feet high, were placed before each cushioned seat. The
minister’s seat was placed as usual before a gilt chapel (niche), and
three feet above the floor, on his right hand, were seats, two feet
high, for his two guests, and to his left two other cushioned seats,
about eighteen inches high, for their sons. Pretty china cups, painted
wooden and gilt metal bowls, were set on the tables, and all the
curiosities and ornamental objects the minister had here with him were
conspicuously displayed. On the corner of his table was the beautiful
stereoscope I had given him in 1879, with some two hundred slides, and
in the middle of the table a calendar-watch and some toys I had
recently presented him. Different kinds of Tibetan and Chinese dainties
were arranged by the head cook, under the Tung-chen’s directions, and
the minister personally supervised the arrangement of the seats and the
decorating of the room. When all was ready I went on to the roof to see
the procession arrive. On both the roads leading to the monastery from
Dongtse the monks were waiting, bearing a dozen or so flags and musical
instruments—two flageolets, a pair of brass hautboys (horns?), or
dungchen, two tambourine-like drums, the same number of bells, and a
gong.

At 1 o’clock the Dahpon and his friend, the Tsipon, together with their
sons, arrived at the Dongtse choide, escorted by the Chya-dso-pa. They
were very simply dressed in silk robes, Chinese jackets, soft yellow
woollen hats, velvet boots, and silk trousers; from their right (left?)
ear hung long earrings. [155] The Dahpon appeared to be about thirty
years old, the Tsipon a little older.

Arriving before the minister, they thrice prostrated themselves, each
time touching their foreheads with their joined palms. The minister
touched their heads with the palm of his hand and blessed them, and
then they presented him with two pieces of red English broadcloth and a
handful of silver coins each.

I was surprised to see such powerful and wealthy chiefs kotow before
the minister; but great is the triumph in this country of the Church
over the laity, and the greatest ministers of state fall down at the
feet of the incarnate lamas!

Dinner was served with great ceremony. As soon as the minister had said
grace, all fell to with chopsticks and spoon, and partook of each
succeeding course in profound silence. After dinner, tea was served,
when at last the silence was broken, conversation began, and the guests
were shown the minister’s curios, the watches and the stereoscopic
views especially interesting them.

In the evening there was a review in the pleasure grove, or linga, by
the commander of the militia, when exercise in musketry, running,
archery, etc., took place in the presence of the two dignitaries.

January 3.—After tea I was asked to read English with the minister. He
transliterated the English words phonetically, but did not take the
trouble of spelling them, observing that his ordinary duties left him
hardly any time to devote to study. He intended asking the Grand Lama
to relieve him for a time from his numerous duties in connection with
the Church, when he hoped to be able to apply himself assiduously to
the study of English.

Breakfast was now brought in, and consisted of a kind of pot-herb,
called pa-tsal, [156] cured in the cold draught, potatoes, and
radishes, which had been kept in sand underground. I asked the minister
if I might go to visit the Palkhor choide of Gyantse with the Tung-chen
on the morrow; and having obtained his consent, two ponies were ordered
to be ready for an early start.

January 4.—The ponies were ready at an early hour, and after receiving
from the minister a few khatag to present to the deities of the Palkhor
choide, the Tung-chen and I rode off.

Our way lay across fields watered by the Nyang chu. The Nyang chu
valley is one of the richest in Tibet, and extends from Shigatse to
about 15 miles beyond Gyantse, a distance of from 60 to 70 miles, and
has an average breadth of 10, every inch of which is cultivated. Its
great natural fertility, and its being so very favourable for the
growth of different kinds of millet and pulses, has given the whole
district the name of Nyang, or “land of delicacies,” and the river
which fertilizes it has been called Nyang chu, [157] or “the river of
delicious water.”

Flocks of wild geese and ducks were swimming on the river, near the
bank of which our road now and then led us, and long-billed cranes were
stalking along searching for food. From the bushes of furze and other
thorny plants with which the river banks were overgrown, hares [158]
leaped out and made off towards the mountain recesses, and beautiful
little birds, probably a variety of kingfisher, were seen fishing in
the stream—but the Tung-chen said that though the bird was pretty to
look at, it emitted a most offensive odour from its body.

Passing a few villages, we came to a stream flowing into the Nyang chu
from the south. Here were two flour-mills, of which we had seen at
least a dozen since leaving Shigatse. They were very large, and the
stones four times the size of our ordinary millstones in India. In the
village of Gyabshi the people seemed very industrious, the women
engaged with their looms or spinning, the men tending sheep or
collecting fuel from the fields.

When we came within two miles of Gyantse, our attention was attracted
by the Tse-chan monastery, the entire north-eastern slope of a hill
being closely covered by its whitewashed houses, so that it looked like
a great castle of towering height. The Tung-chen told me that this
lamasery was nearly eight hundred years old, and that the great
reformer Tsong-khapa had spent several years here in the study of
metaphysics (tsan-nyid). I was also shown the Tinkar la, by which
herdsmen travel to the foot of the Lachan pass of Sikkim, this being
the shortest route between Gyantse and the latter country.

A few minutes’ ride brought us to the bridge over the Nyang chu, a
light temporary wooden structure, about twenty feet long and six feet
broad, built on the ice which covered the stream.

We entered the town of Gyantse, [159] passing beside a long mendong, on
either side of which were dwellings, and by a narrow lane reached the
gate of the Gandan Chakhang on the left side of the main street, and
facing the great chorten of the Palkhor choide.

The Kunyer, or priest, of the Gandan Chakhang, an acquaintance of the
Tung-chen, greeted him, and, showing him to a seat, had tea served us.
We sent the groom, Lhagpa-rida, to the market to buy arrack, and he
there met Ugyen, and told him of our arrival.

As we were eating our meal several pilgrims chanting sacred hymns
entered the chapel of the Lhakhang, and added some spoonfuls of butter
to the lamps. Some of them stared at Ugyen and me, observing to one
another that we were strangers from beyond the Himalayas, taking Ugyen
for a Sikkimese, but not being able to decide whether I was from Ladak
or Besahir.

Ugyen told me of his movements since leaving me at Dongtse on December
31.

He had left Dongtse at noon on December 31, riding one of the
Tung-chen’s ponies. On the road he met some of the muleteers of the
Dongtse Dahpon Phala, who were proceeding to Lhasa with barley, butter,
and meat for the use of Bangye-shag, Phala’s residence.

Ugyen inquired of them about the state of the road to Lhasa, and the
best time to make the journey there. They told him that winter was the
best season to travel to Lhasa, for then there was no rain, and one
could easily ford the streams and get across the Tsang-po; moreover,
feed was cheap, and meat, barley, and wine obtainable everywhere.

The following day (January 1, 1882) Ugyen visited the Gyantse tom. This
market and the town generally are inferior to Shigatse in importance
and in the variety of articles for sale. There were people selling
Calcutta and Chinese goods of very inferior quality. He saw fifteen or
twenty Nepalese shops and half a dozen pastry shops kept by Chinese.
The tom (or market-place) is the property of the Palkhor choide, the
great monastery of Gyantse, and contributes largely to its maintenance.
The monastic authorities also collect rents from the shops in the
vicinity of the tom, which do not belong to either the Government or
landholders (gerpas). The barley for sale was inferior to that of
Shigatse, as was also the chang, which was, however, cheaper than
there; and butter and mutton were in larger quantities than at the
latter place.

The market only lasts for three hours daily, opening at 10 a.m. Ugyen
here saw, for the first time, women selling fresh meat and dried
carcasses of sheep and yaks. At Shigatse they never take part with the
men in this business. [160] Some of these women have amassed much
wealth by this profession, and wear rich headdresses (patug) thickly
studded with pearls, amber, and turquoises.

Returning to his lodgings, Ugyen made the acquaintance of a lieutenant,
or Dingpon, named Nyima tsering, who was putting up in the same house.
Ugyen plied him with chang, and when he had become very jolly over it,
he questioned him about the military arrangements of Gyantse. The
Dingpon stated that there were ordinarily 500 Tibetan soldiers
stationed here. This force was divided into two battalions under two
Rupon. Under each Rupon were two captains (Gyapon) and four
lieutenants, or Dingpon. The commander, or Dahpon, of the Gyantse
troops was Tedingpa. Besides these troops there are 50 Chinese soldiers
under a Chinese official called Da-loye, [161] and the native militia.
The troops both at Gyantse and Shigatse are under the inspection of the
Chinese paymaster (Pogpon) of Shigatse. Nyima tsering told Ugyen that
the Tibetan soldiers were very poorly paid by the Government. The
Emperor of China contributes towards their maintenance five rupees per
man a year, and the Government of Tibet gives them forty pounds of
barley per man a month, but no pay in money, on the ground that they
are furnished by the landholders at the rate of one soldier for every
kang [162] of land.

The Dingpon and Gyapon receive pay at the rate of thirteen srang and
twenty-five srang a year from the imperial treasury, but no more
rations from the Tibetan Government than the soldiers.

The Emperor allows Chinese soldiers serving in Tibet a family allowance
of six srang a month and sixty pounds of rice per head as subsistence
allowance, in addition to their monthly pay of six srang. [163] On the
next day (January 2) Ugyen surveyed the town and its great monastery,
the Palkhor choide. A stone wall nearly two miles and a half long
surrounds the town. He estimated its length, by means of his
prayer-beads, to be 4500 paces. [164] At each pace he dropped a bead
and muttered om mani padme hum, and the good people of Gyantse who
accompanied him in his circumambulation (lingkor) little suspected the
nature of the work he was doing. When he reached the foot of a mendong
called Gojogs, and situated to the north of the Djong, he took the
bearing of the Tse-chan monastery, one of the most ancient religious
establishments of Tibet. It bore south-west, and was nearly three miles
from him. To the north of Gyantse he saw Ritoi gomba, a cloistered
lamasery with five or six long houses, each with a large number of
cells. To the south-south-east of Gyantse djong is the road to Pagri,
in the direction of the Nia-ni monastery and the Niru chu, one of the
principal feeders of the Nyang chu, which drains the northern glacier
of the Chumo-lha ri mountain. To the north-east of Gyantse the Nyang
chu is visible for a great distance, and Ugyen conjectured from its
course that it came from the snow-clad Nui-jin kang-sang mountains,
which stretch out to the north and north-east. On the uplands to the
north of Gyantse, and some three miles away, is the Choilung gomba.

The Chinese cemetery Ugyen found situate at the foot of the hill on
which the Djong stands, a little above the high-road to Lhasa, and some
three miles from the town. He counted three hundred tombs, some of
which appeared very old and dilapidated, but a few quite new.

The castle or Djong of Gyantse stands on the top of a hill nearly 500
feet above the town. It is very strong, and was built by the famous
Choigyal rabtan who ruled in the fourteenth century over the province
of Nyang, of which Gyantse was the capital. This province was a part of
the domain of the Sakhya hierarchs. He had built a long stone-covered
way running from the Djong to the foot of the hill, by which he meant
to secure a supply of water in time of siege from the three deep wells
at the foot of the hill. Ugyen visited these wells, where
water-carriers were drawing water in hide buckets attached to a rope
about 150 feet long passing over a pulley.

The landlord of the Litophug sub-division of Gyantse told Ugyen that
about eighteen years ago the ex-Dewan of Sikkim had come here on some
State business, and had put up in the same house in which he was now
stopping. One night about fifty sinister-looking Khamba traders
suddenly broke into the house, beat him with clubs, tore his earring
out of his ear, stripped him of his clothing, carried off all his
property, and thrashed his servants and forced them to run for their
lives. Some of the robbers ran away from Gyantse, taking the Dewan’s
property, his mules and ponies; but on the following morning, when the
matter was brought to the notice of the Djongpon, the chief of the
robbers, who had stayed behind, was apprehended. He said that a year
previously the Dewan had treated him and his accomplices most harshly
during their stay at Chumbi on their way to Darjiling, exacting from
them the last pice they had in their purses, besides depriving them of
all their property to the value of upwards of Rs. 500. The Dewan lost,
in his turn, over Rs. 1000 in cash, besides jewellery, clothes, etc.

A well-informed Nyingma lama, the manager of Palri kusho’s (an
incarnate lama) estate near Panam Jong, came and put up at the house
where Ugyen was stopping. He was on his way back from Lhasa, where he
had stayed for two or three months after a pilgrimage to the Tsari
country. His master was studying sacred literature at Lhasa. He
promised to let Ugyen see the books of the Palri library, and to lend
them to him on the surety of the minister or his Chyag-dso-pa. He told
him, furthermore, that there existed two printed volumes about Choigyal
rabtan, the famous king who had founded the Palkhor choide of Gyantse,
but that these works and the history of Gyantse were now kept as sealed
works (terchoi) by the Lhasa Government. Ugyen also learnt from the
lama that in the recluses’ monastery of Lhari-zim-phug, situated on a
wild mountain to the east of Panam djong, there was a complete account
of the life and writings of Lama Lha-tsun chenpo, who had introduced
Buddhism into Sikkim. [165]

At this season of the year the climate of Gyantse is very bad, high
winds blowing daily, raising dense clouds of dust. The inhabitants
spend this time of the year in idleness, having but little to do
besides weaving and spinning.

Such was the information that Ugyen gave me to-day.

When we had finished our breakfast we went with the Kunyer of Gandan
Lhakhang to perform choi-jal at the different shrines of Gyantse. The
chorten is a splendid edifice of an unique style of architecture.
Hitherto I had been under the impression that chorten were nothing more
than tombs intended solely to contain the remains of departed saints,
but now my views became entirely changed. This chorten is a lofty
temple nine stories high. Ugyen, I, the Kunyer, Lhapa-rida, and our
servant, Lhagpa-sring, went into the enclosure and entered the shrine
with a number of pilgrims and travellers, most of whom seemed to be
from Ladak or the Changtang. In the service hall, where the priests
were assembled for religious service, hundreds of lamps were burning,
and incense-sticks were smoking so as to nearly darken the room. We
ascended at once to the top story, but the other visitors began their
circumambulation from the bottom upwards—the usual practice, though
many become so wearied going round and round that they do not reach the
uppermost story. The chorten is about 100 to 120 feet high, the top
covered by a gilt dome, the gilded copper plates of which are so thick
that they have withstood centuries of exposure to the weather. The base
of this sacred edifice is, we found by actual count, 50 paces square.
From the cupola (pumpa), immediately under the gilt dome, I had a
magnificent view of the town and monasteries and the surrounding hills
and distant mountains; their black surface, broken here and there by
some white-walled monastery, offered a singularly wild aspect.

There were inside the chorten innumerable niches filled with images of
Buddhas and saints, and in visiting the various chapels we were
required to do so walking from left to right, for this is the Buddhist
usage.

On the first floor we were shown the statue of Choigyal rabtan, under
whose benign rule Gyantse became famous, and who gave a fresh impulse
to Buddhism and literature. The Kunyer of the chorten touched our heads
with the sword of this illustrious monarch, and said that by his
blessing (jin-lab) we could triumph over our enemies and enjoy
longevity and prosperity in this world.

We were also shown two images of Dorje chang, the supreme Buddha of the
Gelugpa sect, [166] one of which was very old and of small size, the
other large and very highly burnished. Once on a time, the Grand Lama
of Tashilhunpo, visiting the chorten, touched the breast of the former
image to see if it was warm and full of life, as was popularly said. He
soon repented of his sacrilegious act, confessed his sin, and, to atone
for his wrong-doing, had made the large gilt image, which was placed
beside the old one.

Returning to the Gandan Lhakhang, we were refreshing ourselves with
copious draughts of tea, when the abbot of the Palkhor choide, with
half a dozen disciples, came to make reverence to the great image of
the Buddha in the shrine, on whose right and left were images of
Tsong-khapa and Maitreya.

The Kunyer remarked to me that I was peculiarly fortunate in having
come to Gyantse to-day, as it was the full moon, a sacred day with
Buddhists, on which day, and on the day of the new moon, the doors of
all the shrines and of the great chorten were thrown open to the
public.

After an hour’s rest I went with the Tung-chen and Ugyen to visit the
Palkhor choide. Its grand “temple of learning” (tsug-la khang) is a
splendid and lofty edifice, the hall lighted by one thousand lamps. On
three sides—the north, east, and west—are high niches, in which are
huge images of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The image of the Buddha is
made of copper, heavily gilt. Five hundred monks were engaged in divine
service, and some two hundred more were occupied reading the sacred
scriptures. No one lifted his eyes to look at us, so strict is the
discipline observed here. We were conducted to the great library, the
very sight of which filled my mind with feelings of awe and reverence.
The books were all old, broad-leaved, and some two to four feet long. I
was shown the sacred scriptures, all written in letters of gold.

With what assiduity and devotion the Buddhists perform the sacred
duties of their religion, the deep interest they take in the collecting
of sacred books and images, and their zealous care in preserving them,
can only be realized by visiting such places as this. I was shown some
sculptures executed by Indian Buddhists, and some stone images similar
to what I had seen at Buddhagaya. The gilt, Indian-made images of the
Sravakas, of Saripu, Mudgalputra, Ananda, Kashyapa, and other arhats
were of exceeding interest. On each side of the image of Shakya Buddha
were four rows of monks, of twenty each, and in front of them burned
hundreds of butter-fed lamps. Behind the seats of the monks were drums,
each with a long handle; these the monks beat at intervals, and to the
accompaniment also of cymbals, brass hautboys (dung chen), and
clarionets (gyaling), they chanted hymns in deep sonorous voices.

When exhausted by continual repetitions of mantras, they refreshed
themselves with tea. Wine is not brought within the precincts of these
Gelugpa monasteries; and, in fact, all drinkers of wine among the monks
are expelled from the Gelugpa Church.

In the lobby of the monastery I found a grand collection of stuffed
animals, such as the snow-leopard, wild sheep, goat, yak, stag,
mastiff, etc., and a Bengal tiger. [167]

Returning to the Gandan Lhakhang, we visited the second and third
floors of that building, where several recluses were reading the sacred
books. I was told that when the Tashi lama visited the Palkhor choide,
he puts up in this building, and I was shown the raised seat he
occupies when here. I also learnt that successful students among the
monks of Tashilhunpo are sent here to complete their course of study
for the degree of tom-ram-pa [168] (bachelor of sacred literature),
which this lamasery alone has the right to confer.

In the portico of the building and underneath its eaves I noticed
several sorts of flowering plants in bloom.

At 3 p.m. we left for Dongtse, where we arrived before dusk. The
minister’s page met me at the foot of the hill, and led me to his
master, who made many kind inquiries about my trip. I told him how
greatly I had enjoyed it, and that, as it was a holiday, all the
buildings, the great chorten and the temples, had been open to me. “I
rejoice at it,” he replied; “and I must say the gods have shown you the
way [lha lam tan song], for it did not strike me at the time that
to-day was a holiday. If you should have put it off till to-morrow, you
would have seen but very little.”

January 5.—I called on the minister, and talked to him of my visit to
Gyantse. He told me that there were half a dozen chorten in Tibet like
the one I had seen there. There were now, he said, about six hundred
monks in the Palkhor choide, and an equal number in the adjacent
lamaseries, but in former times there were three thousand monks on the
register of the college.

Ugyen-gyatso returned to-day from Gyantse, and told the minister of his
experiences there. He had been lodged in Litophug in a priest’s house,
where the master (nabo) and mistress (namo) showed him great courtesy.
Ugyen presented the minister a dozen oranges he had bought in the
Gyantse market for one anna each. I told the minister that these
oranges came from Sikkim. “Oh, indeed!” he said. “It must be a happy
land. In Tibet no oranges mature; at Lhasa there are orange trees
producing small fruit, which do not, however, ripen.”

In the evening Ugyen told me a tale he had heard from the Chyag-dso-pa
of the Palri monastery.

Once on a time Dugpa-kunleg, a famous but eccentric saint of the
red-hat school, was staying at Khang-toi shikha, in Lhasa. He saw the
wife of his host stealing a piece of amber from the bag of a beggar who
was stopping in the house, and putting an apple in its stead into his
wallet. The saint told her it was both sinful and criminal to act thus,
and related to her the following tale by way of instruction.

In ancient India there lived two friends. One, a highlander, was a
dishonest man; the other, a lowlander, was upright and honest. One day
the two, while walking in a valley, found a bowl of gold. The lowlander
said, “Well, now that fortune has favoured us with a treasure, let us
first return thanks to the local divinities, and then divide the gold
between us.” The other rejoined, “Friend, the day is far advanced; we
can do all this to-morrow; let us rather take the bowl home now.”

To this the lowlander agreed. The next morning when he called at his
friend’s house, he found him in a corner wailing and shedding tears.
“Ah, friend,” he exclaimed, “my heart is filled with grief and shame.
How can I tell you! The bowl of gold has been miraculously changed, for
this morning I found but sawdust in it. The gods alone know what has
become of the treasure! This, I am grieved to say, will put an end to
our friendship, for it will create in your mind a suspicion against
me.” So saying he began weeping afresh.

The other, perceiving his design, said, with wonderful calmness,
“Friend, you need not cry. The loss of the treasure is not the greatest
mishap which might befall us. If we two continue friends, we should
hold ourselves very happy. Chance brought the treasure; chance has
taken it away; crying will not bring it back.”

The false friend, thinking he had gained his end, soon dried his tears.
Before leaving for his home, the lowlander said, “Friend, I have not
mentioned something to you. In my orchard most delicious mangoes and
other fruits are now ripe. I have no children to eat them; let your two
sons come home with me that I may regale them with the luscious
fruits.”

To this the other assented, and the two boys accompanied the lowlander
home. On his return to his home he bought two monkeys, to which he gave
the same names as the boys, and trained them to come when called by
their names.

After a while the false friend came to take his boys home, when the
other came out crying in a loud and pitiful voice, “Friend, my heart
bleeds to have to tell you of the misfortune which has befallen you.
Your two darlings have been changed into monkeys!” “How can I believe
such a story?” the other replied. “If you doubt it, call your sons, and
you will see.” So the father called his older son by name, and a monkey
came leaping forth, and sat upon his lap, fondling him and chattering
to him as if he were an old friend. Filled with surprise, he called his
second son, when out came the other monkey, and climbed into his lap
also.

After a while the lowlander asked his friend, “How can this have come
about? Tell me how it was that the gold was changed into sawdust; it
may help to explain this new wonder.” The other, fearing lest his sons
had been transformed into monkeys by the incantations of the friend he
had deceived, replied, “Friend, I deceived you when I said the gold had
been turned into sawdust. I have got it with me; we will divide it
equally between us. Is it true, my much injured friend, that my sons
have been transformed into monkeys?” “Oh no. How could men become
monkeys? Your sons are in excellent health, and are now in one of my
distant orchards.” So the two returned to their houses with their
respective treasures—the one with his children, the other with his
gold.

Years passed by, and the two friends were finally summoned to the court
of the Lord of death, there to have their good and bad acts weighed.
Their moral merits and their prayers were also weighed, and the balance
turned in their favour. A game of chess was then played by the gods and
the demon, in which, by means of casting dice, the merits and demerits
of gods and men are determined. In the mirror of karma (mundane
actions) the two friends saw and blushed for the evil deeds they had
done—the gold turned into sawdust, and the boys into monkeys. The Lord
of death decreed that the uplander should pass five hundred years in
hell, and that the other should for five hundred existences be born a
monkey. The punishment of the latter was the severer in that he had
stolen human beings, and said that they had been transformed into
monkeys; but because he had desired to make offerings to the gods when
the treasure had been found, the gods had pleaded for him.

Having finished his tale, Dugpa kunleg exhorted the woman to keep from
stealing, and threatened her with such-like dire punishment if she did
not desist. The woman put the amber back in the beggar’s bag, and the
saint left her house and returned to Lhobrag.

Ugyen also heard at Gyantse that much was to be learnt concerning the
ancient history of that place in a work called ‘Nyang choi jung Nyimai
odser.’ He furthermore told me that he had heard that last year a
mendicant from Gyantse visiting Sikkim gave out there that he was one
of the discoverers of sacred books of which the Nyingma history of
Sikkim makes mention. He showed what he claimed was a very ancient
manuscript volume on the propitiatory ritual of Guru Thag-mar, a
fearful deity of the Ningma pantheon. The Sikkim rajah gave him a very
warm welcome, and, in consultation with the chief lama of his Durbar,
arranged to have block prints made of the text. Recently this impostor
had returned to Gyantse, bringing with him many valuable copper and
brass articles, silk gowns, and coined money.

January 6.—The minister’s mother, accompanied by a maid-servant, came
to pay reverence to her saintly son while I was seated with him. I
could not believe that she was his mother when I saw her make three
profound salutations before the minister, touching the ground with her
forehead and receiving his blessing. She then presented him with a few
balls of butter and a khatag; and when his holiness said he would leave
for Tashilhunpo in three days, she wept bitterly.

January 7.—Early in the morning we received a message from the minister
asking us to postpone our departure for Tashilhunpo, as the
Chyag-dso-pa much wished me to accompany the minister to his house at
Kye-pa Khangsar, where he proposed staying three days.

The parents of the minister, accompanied by their youngest boy, came
again to pay their respects. The father, a quiet, respectable-looking,
elderly man, saluted me by taking off his yellow felt turban and
inquiring after my health. They kotowed before the minister, who gave
them his blessing by touching the crowns of their heads with his hand.

At 2 o’clock the minister, dressed like a Buddhist cardinal, and
accompanied by the Tung-chen, ourselves, and his domestics, entered the
grand hall of worship (du-kang), the Tung-chen carrying a bundle of
incense-sticks and some khatag. The head lama threw some grains of
barley towards the images of the deities, and recited some mantras;
then the minister, standing, recited a short prayer, and approaching
the image of the Buddha, took off his mitre and placed a khatag on it.
Then the head lama took the other khatag which the Tung-chen had
brought with him, and flung them one by one at the other images, while
the monks who accompanied him scattered flowers before them.

After this we circumambulated the monastery, and descended to the foot
of the hill, where the son of the Chyag-dso-pa, dressed in a rich
Mongol costume, was awaiting us with two spirited and richly
caparisoned ponies held by grooms, one of which the minister mounted,
while we walked the short distance which separated us from the gateway
of Kye-pa Khangsar. A band of drums, hautboys, bells, gongs, and fifes
marched before us, playing as we went through the lay town (sho) and
along a broad road lined with poplars to the gate of the Khangsar,
where the Chyag-dso-pa was standing to receive the minister. He was
dressed in a rich scarlet satin robe girded by a yellow scarf, a yellow
woollen turban, and a pair of Tartar velvet boots. His tall stature,
graceful looks, broad forehead, and uncommonly well-shaped nose, gave
him a commanding appearance. He greeted the minister with a profound
bow, and presented him a khatag, and received a blessing (chyag wang)
from the latter, who afterwards dismounted, putting his foot on a
velvet-covered stool placed here for the purpose.

The Chyag-dso-pa salaamed to Ugyen, whom he took for me; and the
latter, not taking off his hat to return his salutation (or pay his
chyam-bu, as it is called), was reminded of it in a whisper by the
Tung-chen.

We then ascended a flight of steps and entered the building. The
minister was conducted by the host to his drawing-room, while we were
led by his third son, Phuntso Yu-gyal, in company of the Tung-chen, to
the chapel, the central room on the first floor. The house was very
neatly built, with solid rubble walls and beautifully carved beams of
old poplar. There was a skylight in the centre of the roof; thick
cushions covered with Khamba rugs were placed around, and on these we
took our seats. A collation was served on little tables consisting of
Chinese cakes, buckwheat cakes, twisted sweet biscuits, and tsamba and
tea was given us by the Chyag-dso-pa’s page Pinu. After a little while
we were led into the Chyag-dso-pa’s presence, when we presented him a
khatag and a few rupees, also a khatag to his wife, Ama Tung-la, and
his daughter-in-law, Rinpoche. After dinner we were conducted to a
dormitory on the south side of the chapel, where we found three
bedsteads, and after a cup of tea we retired to rest.

January 8.—Early in the morning we asked our host’s leave to start for
Tashilhunpo, but he was most reluctant to let us go, and, having
obtained the minister’s sanction to our remaining here two days more,
we postponed our departure.

Breakfast was served by a maid-servant (shetama) and our host’s
daughter-in-law (patsa), Rinpoche, the only wife of his two sons. She
is entitled to be addressed as Chyam Kusho, though it is seldom used in
speaking to her. She is a young lady of about twenty, of modest manners
and intelligent looks. She lingered about until the servants and other
guests had left, with the evident intention of conversing with us.

Ugyen-gyatso opened the conversation by asking her to what family of
Tibet she belonged. She replied by asking him if he had ever heard of
Kusho Mankipa of Tanag. “Yes,” replied he, “if you speak of Manki, who
is the maternal uncle of the Rajah of Sikkim.” “’Tis he,” she said;
“and he died last year without my seeing him. Are you a subject of my
cousin Den Jong gyalpo [the chief of Sikkim]? Oh, how I long to see my
aunt!” And she began to weep. “It is now full three years since I came
here, and never in that time have I been allowed to visit my
fatherland. Oh, I am miserable! I have to work continuously at the
loom, supervise the workwomen, attend to the kitchen, and serve the
meals. My mother-in-law is without mercy. She thinks my frame is made
of iron. Though this family is rich, they work like ploughmen.”

She then begged Ugyen to inform the Sikkim rajah’s mother, Lha-yum
Kusho, of her trouble, and to persuade her, if possible, to take her to
Chumbi for a couple of months. I told her, by way of consoling her,
that she was a most accomplished person, married into one of the
richest families of Tsang, and might hope to soon be a mother, so she
must not consider herself miserable. “Do you know palmistry?” [169] she
suddenly asked; and placing her right hand on the table, she desired me
to tell her fortune by the lines on her hand (lag-ri). I was much
embarrassed, and told her that I understood very little of this art.
Fortunately just then a servant came and called us to the presence of
the Chyag-dso-pa.

I took a seat on his right hand, and his wife, Ama Tung-la, occupied
one on his left, while Ugyen, seated a little distance off, acted as my
interpreter. The Chyag-dso Kusho began with: “In the sacred books we
find mention of Indian Punditas who laboured for the diffusion of the
enlightened religion. If you be a Pundita, as I hear from the minister
that you are, we are most fortunate to have you among us. I also learn
that you know about medicines, and I will later on avail myself of your
knowledge.” Then, calling his son, Phunsho Yugyal, he desired me, to my
great embarrassment, to foretell his fortune by the lines on his hand.
Being considered a Pundit, it was impossible for me to say that I did
not know such an essential science as palmistry. After mature
reflection I told him that although I had studied a little palmistry, I
never attached much importance to explanations it afforded of men’s
fortunes. The science was very little understood, anyhow, and, in my
opinion, it did not deserve any more attention than it had received:
nothing could be more unpleasant than a foreknowledge of one’s misery.
Human life was, albeit, full of trouble; it was for deliverance from
its recurrence that the Buddha has expounded the doctrine of nirvana.

He listened attentively to me, and seemed to think very highly of me.
He said that if he but knew how long he and his son would live, he
could devise means of preventing accidents in consultation with the
minister, for in the sacred books one is told of religious remedies by
the use of which calamities caused by devils (dé) can be averted. He
pressed me to examine his palm, and stretched it out toward me. How
could I refuse, and how could I predict falsely? So I told him that
there are certain figures and lines in the palm of the hand from which
experts in palmistry can draw indications of a long or short life. In
his palm the line of life was very long; and as to fortune, it was well
known that he was favoured by the gods.

Ama Tung-la then showed me her hand, and I said, “Ama-la, you are very
fortunate. The mother of three sons, all of them grown up and
accomplished men; the wife of a great man. What more can you want of
the gods?” She smiled at this, and said that for some days past she had
been suffering from a cough; could I give her some medicine that would
relieve her? I asked for some black pepper and rock-candy, and prepared
a powder for her.

At noon we dined with the minister and the Chyag-dso Kusho. The dishes
were prepared and served in the Chinese fashion. Chopsticks and spoons
were used. The first course was gya-tug, a tape-like preparation of
wheat-flour and eggs, cooked with minced mutton, and soup. The minister
did not eat it, as he had, in common with all lamas, taken the vow of
abstaining from eggs. The second course was rice and half a dozen
preparations of mutton curry, rice, mutton with preserved vegetables,
white and black mushrooms, Chinese green grass, vermicelli, potatoes,
and fresh shoots of peas. [170] The third course (leu, literally,
“chapter”) was buttered and sweetened rice; the fourth, and last,
boiled mutton, tsamba, and tea. The Tung-chen told me that at sumptuous
entertainments thirteen courses are usually served.

About an hour after dinner we visited Jerung la, the second son of the
Chyag-dso Kusho, who is a monk in the castle of Diba Dongtse. This
building, about six hundred years old, is built of stone of the best
quality; it faces south, and has balconies (rab-sal) provided with
shutters along each of its five stories. It is of a partly Indian,
partly Tibetan style of architecture, with a central courtyard about
100 feet broad and 200 long. Around this, on the sides, the building is
40 feet high, and has three stories, along the outer edge of which, on
the courtyard side, are rows of drum-shaped prayer-wheels two feet
high, and as much in diameter, that take the place of railings. There
are some three hundred of these prayer-barrels on the stories of the
three sides. The main building is on the north side of the court, and
is some 60 to 70 feet high. We ascended to the top story by a steep
ladder, and were there shown the gonkhang, [171] the shrine of the
guardian deities—terrible figures, among which I noticed three of
Mamos, resembling Jaganath, Balavendra, and Subhadra, of the Hindus.

There were several chapels, in each of which was a resident priest
called am-choi. On the balconies of the wings three or four old women
were weaving blankets, and at the entrance to the building a huge
mastiff was chained, who made furious attempts to rush at us as we
passed.

One hundred yards south of the castle is a garden (linga) with tall
poplars—some 80 to 100 feet high, and four other kinds of trees planted
in rows along its four walks, in the middle of which is a tastefully
built summer-house, its cornice and external decorations remarkably
pretty. One hundred yards away from it is a target for musket and bow
practice.

While we visited the linga a greyhound [172] was running about it, but
he paid no attention to us. On our way homeward we passed through the
village where, under some tall poplars, tradesmen were displaying
pottery for sale. We also saw four yellow-turbaned men, who, we were
told, were the tax-collector’s understrappers.

January 9.—While we were breakfasting Rinpoche came in, and again spoke
of her hard work and of the merciless treatment of her mother-in-law. I
asked her if her husband was not fond of her. “Oh, sir,” she said, “we
two are like one soul and body; but he is most of the time at Shigatse,
where he is the Dahpon’s steward” (Nyerpa [173]). She told me that she
had just heard that her cousin, the Rajah of Sikkim, was coming to
Tibet to get married. If his mother came with him, she could surely
persuade her to take her with her to Chumbi for a couple of months. She
also said to me that her mother-in-law ought not to have given her such
a high sounding name as Rinpoche (“the Jewel”), for it is a name given
to incarnate lamas and chiefs; but I answered, to her evident pleasure,
that Rinpoche was a most appropriate name for handsome and accomplished
women.

After this I went to the minister’s apartment for dinner. Before it was
served we washed our hands. A large copper bowl, or katora, was placed
for the purpose before the minister, who, in washing his hands, rubbed
them with a kind of wood dust called sugpa, [174] obtained from a plant
growing in Tibet, and used instead of soap.

After dinner the Chyag-dso-pa made presents to the minister, consisting
of blankets, Tibetan serge (pulo), three pieces of red, scarlet, and
yellow English broadcloth, Gyantse rugs of superior quality, Khamba
rugs, Chinese brocaded satin, spotted woollen chintz, about two bushels
of tsamba, a large quantity of buckwheat cakes, twisted sugar cakes,
loaves of bread, and three hundred tankas. The presentation of these
gifts he accompanied by profound salutations, and the minister gave him
his blessing, when he begged him to pray to the gods to make him
prosperous and happy. After this he gave presents of about half the
value to the Tung-chen, and so on, less and less, according to each
one’s rank; to me he gave two Gyantse rugs, two pieces of spotted pulo,
and a khatag. Alms were also distributed among the monks and the
minister’s menials.

When the Chyag-dso Kusho had finished making all these presents he
returned to the minister’s room, where we were with him. In course of
conversation he suggested the propriety of my presenting the Tashi lama
with an elephant. He said that two had recently been sent by the Rajah
of Sikkim to Lhasa, to be presented to the Dalai lama, one of which had
died on the way. [175] He also spoke of the superiority of Indian metal
images over those made in Tibet, and said that those made in Magadha,
and called jai-khim, were very rare in this country. “If you had
brought some of these, or of shar-li [Bengal bell-metal], or nub-li
[lower Indus valley], [176] and presented them to the minister, he
would have been infinitely more pleased than with glass and other
fragile and useless toys.”

In the evening it was settled that the minister should start for
Tashilhunpo on the morrow, and that Kusho Jambala, the Chyag-dso-pa’s
elder brother, who was suffering from ophthalmia, should accompany him,
to submit there to my medical treatment.

January 10.—We were up early, and got ready to leave for Tashilhunpo.
The Tung-chen advised me to start ahead of the minister, who would
overtake me on the road, as he travelled very rapidly, and he
furthermore let me pick out for my use the quietest pony in the stable.
We had not gone four miles when the minister and four attendants caught
up with us. We rode on together some six miles, and when we reached the
bed of the stream, now dry, which empties into the Nyang chu, we all
alighted. The minister ordered his page to bring him a basketful of
earth from a spot he pointed out. This was placed before him as he sat
cross-legged on a rug, when he muttered some mantras and made an
oblation of tsamba and water. The Tung-chen informed me that on the
last journey the minister had made this way he had at this spot fallen
from his pony, and it was supposed that some evil spirit haunting this
spot was desirous of hurting him, and so this ceremony was performed to
drive it away.

When it was over we had a light collation, the minister giving me some
dried dates and Cabul fruits, while the Tung-chen gave the others
treacle, biscuits, and tsamba.

At 4 o’clock we reached Tashi-gang. After partaking of refreshments the
minister took his seat on the roof of Ang-putta’s second story. He
called me and Ugyen up, and asked us to teach him the foreign system of
land surveying. Ugyen showed him his prismatic compass with attached
clinometer. We explained the use of these instruments, and expressed
regrets that we had no tape-measure or chain with which we could take
measurements, carefully abstaining from mentioning measuring distances
by pacing, lest he might suspect us of being surveyors, and withdraw
his protection.

He then spoke of his desire to have a sextant, various mathematical
instruments, a chest of medicines, and an illustrated work on
astronomy. Ugyen expressed his willingness to go to Calcutta to
purchase them, were it not that he could not leave me here alone, and
with my desire to see Lhasa unfulfilled. The minister replied, “That is
easily provided for. I will look after the Pundit; and as to his going
to Lhasa, why, there is every probability that the Tashi lama will go
there to ordain the Dalai lama in the fourth month (June), when it will
be possible to arrange for the Pundit’s going there also. The Shape
Rampa, and Phala are my friends; they will help him. However, we will
think of all this later on at Tashilhunpo.”

He then said there were five persons in Tsang who took interest in
science and study—the Shape Porapa, the Chief Secretary (Dung-yig
chenpo) Ka-chan Dao, the Donyer, and himself. “There are,” he added,
“many other learned men at Tashilhunpo and in various other monasteries
of Tsang, but they only interest themselves in sacred literature; they
do not care to know of the science and civilization of other great
countries such as that of the Phyling (foreigners) and India.”

The minister finally informed me that to-morrow he would visit the
Kyi-phug nunnery, about three miles off in the hills behind Tashigang.
The Lady Superior and her nuns (tsun-mo) had repeatedly begged him to
visit their convent, but he had been so pressed for time that he had
only been able to do so once in the last six years.

January 11.—The minister and his party left for the Kyi-phug convent at
7 a.m., and we set off for Tashilhunpo after breakfast. Old Kusho
Jambala was unable to keep up with us. As he followed slowly the
minister’s muleteers, his yellow-satin mitre, his spectacles, his
manner of sitting on his pony, and his tall lank figure recalled to my
mind the renowned knight of La Mancha. With his leave we rode ahead. We
saw on the way a woman sweeping the ground, and on inquiry she told us
that she was removing the thick grime which covered the ground so that
her cattle might the more easily pick up the grass. Many sheep, we were
told, die in winter on account of the ice crust which covers the grass.
At 4 p.m. we arrived at Chyang chu, where we were most kindly received
by the Deba Shikha, and lodged in the same quarters we had previously
occupied.

January 12.—After breakfast we strolled about the linga in front of the
minister’s bathing-house (cham chu). It is surrounded by a wall of
sun-dried bricks, stones, and turf seven feet high. In the south-east
corner is the snug little two-storied house where the minister passes a
few days in October. The cooking and bathing is done under yak-hair
tents pitched in the western avenue of the grove.

At 9 o’clock we set out, and were at Tashilhunpo by noon, and there
found Phurchung, who had arrived the day before from Khamba jong. The
Djongpon, who knew him, had told him that unless he came bearing a
passport from the Tashi lama or the Commander of Shigatse, he could not
let him pass the frontier. There were formal orders from the Lhasa
Government not to let any one cross the frontier, even if bearing
letters from the high officials of Labrang, who are not, however, in
charge of frontier affairs. So Rinzing Namgyal had to leave our luggage
with the Pipon of Lachan, and had gone back to Darjiling.



CHAPTER IV.

RESIDENCE AT TASHILHUNPO, AND PREPARATIONS FOR JOURNEY TO LHASA.


January 13.—The money we had brought from Darjiling being almost
expended, we were now in the necessity of selling the pearls and gold
we had brought with us. I therefore sent Ugyen to the market to inquire
of Lupa gyaltsan, with whom we had left some tolas of pearls for sale,
if he had been able to dispose of them. Lupa gyaltsan told him that he
had shown the pearls to a Lhasa merchant, who had not offered more than
cost price for them. The market for pearls, he added, was very poor,
and we must not expect to realize much profit out of ours for some
months to come.

He also told Ugyen that great preparations were being made for the
Grand Lama’s visit to Lhasa in May, for the ordination of the Dalai
lama. [177] On that occasion the Tashi would have to make return
presents and give rewards in money to the various officials and chiefs
of Tibet, for which robes, boots, etc., were now being made in great
numbers.

January 14.—On the way to the market to-day Ugyen met Lupa gyaltsan,
who informed him that some traders from Phagri, Chumbi, and
Rin-chen-gang had just arrived, and that, to judge from their
conversation, they were not well disposed towards us. He therefore
cautioned Ugyen, so that he might not meet them unprepared. Ugyen, in
consequence, first went to the police station and learnt from his
friend, the Chinese havildar of Shigatse, who the new-comers were; then
he looked them up, and questioned them about the passes to India. They
told him they had been able to get here through the Lhasa Government
having declared the Phagri pass open. As to the Sikkim rajah coming
here, they could give no definite information, though they said there
was much talk about his marrying the daughter of a great man of Lhasa.

In the afternoon the minister sent for me, and told me that the boxes
containing the lithographic press sent him some months ago had not been
opened for fear of small-pox. “I thought the cases contained some
miraculous remedies which could neutralize small-pox. One night I smelt
some gaseous emanations coming out from the boxes, which I thought
contained the germs of small-pox; so I could not sleep that night, so
troubled was my mind lest small-pox should attack us.” We laughed
heartily at his holiness’s fancies, and I told him that the vaccine he
had asked for was among the things still at the Lachan pass. At last he
was convinced of the groundlessness of his fears, and joined with us in
laughing at them.

January 15.—After breakfast we unpacked in the minister’s library the
lithographic press, and set it up, the minister taking great interest
in the work and assisting me himself.

January 16.—After breakfast, which we took with the minister in the
west drawing-room of the Phuntso khangsar, he told me that he was most
anxious to get the things I had at Lachan. Phurchung was not
intelligent enough to get around the Djongpon of Khamba, even if he
were provided with the best of passports. He thought it indispensable
for Ugyen to undertake the journey to Lachan, especially as he had
relatives there, a circumstance which would greatly facilitate the
accomplishment of his mission.

Ugyen objected to start on such a difficult journey at a season of the
year when the cold would be intense and the Kangra lamo pass would be
blocked with snow; but he felt, nevertheless, called upon to comply
with the minister’s request, if he provided him with a proper passport.
Not only did the minister promise to give him an excellent passport,
but he also said that he would propitiate the gods to the end that they
would protect him from dangers from man, beast, or disease, till the
first of the third Tibetan moon (end of April, 1882).

When this was settled Ugyen begged the minister to look after me in his
absence, and not to allow any injury to be done me on the ground that I
was a foreigner. He asked him to give him a letter stating, first, that
he (the minister) would see to my welfare, and that I would be in no
way molested; second, that on Ugyen-gyatso’s return he and I might go
on a pilgrimage to Central Tibet; third, that we should be protected in
any difficulty which might arise on the score of our being foreigners.

Besides the great importance of obtaining these written assurances from
the minister, the production of such a letter by Ugyen, in case of my
death during his absence, would relieve him of all responsibility
towards our Government.

The minister promised to keep me in his house as a member of his
family, to defray all my expenses, and to send me to Lhasa in May with
the Tashi lama’s party. Should, however, neither the Grand Lama nor
himself go to Lhasa, he would make other arrangements for our
pilgrimage there. As to the third point mentioned in the above
agreement, he said that he was fully aware when he invited us to come
to Tashilhunpo of the responsibility he assumed towards us, and that he
would not allow us to be molested by any one during our stay in Tibet.

January 17.—The minister went in the morning to Shigatse, to grant
absolution to the departed soul of Shang-po, one of the six Tsopon who
had been so severely punished by the Chinese authorities on the 13th of
December last, and who had died from the effects of the flogging then
received. We devoted the whole day to the setting up of the
lithographic press.

January 18.—The minister told Ugyen that Kusho Badur-la, the head of
the transportation department, wished to see the pearls we had brought
with us. Ugyen did not find him at home, but conversed with his wife,
whom he at once recognized, having seen her at Tumlung and Chumbi, she
being the elder sister of the present Rajah of Sikkim. She gave him a
very kind reception, and talked to him for nearly an hour, treating him
to tea and gya-tug (vermicelli).

January 19.—To-day being the day of the new moon, nearly a thousand
beggars lined the road leading from Tashilhunpo to Shigatse, where
Lhagpa tsering was distributing alms to them.

At noon Ugyen visited the market-place, where he witnessed a quarrel
between a woman and a Khamba over a tanka’s worth of tsamba, in the
course of which the woman challenged the man to take an oath very
common in Tibet, namely, that if he told an untruth, he might never see
the Grand Lama’s face. The people of Khams are a fierce race who infest
the solitudes of Tibet, and generally carry on depredations on the
isolated villages north of Lhasa. They are a dangerous class. [178]

January 20.—Early in the morning we received an invitation to dine with
our acquaintance, Lupa gyaltsan. We were told that to-day was the New
Year’s Day of the working class, and was so observed by all the people
of Tibet, with the exception of the clergy.

After breakfast we went to the minister’s, and told him the press was
ready for working. I asked him to print a very auspicious hymn, that
the first fruit of our labour might be a sacred composition. He at once
ran to his study and brought a stanza, or stotra, composed by the
present Grand Lama (of Tashilhunpo?) in honour and praise of the
minister. This he copied himself on the transfer paper, and we obtained
excellent impressions of it, much to his delight. The “stone press” (do
par) was forthwith given the name of the “miraculous press” (tul par).

At three in the afternoon we asked leave to go to Lupa gyaltsan’s
house, where I had a most hearty reception, he and his wife coming to
help me dismount from my pony. We were ushered into a newly finished
room on the first floor, where was also his chapel. First chang was
served, then tea was brought by his daughter, a girl of ten, and the
wife placed a wooden bowl filled with tsamba and some pieces of boiled
mutton on a little table before us. Then Lupa gyaltsan, taking off his
turban, asked me to take sol ja and consider that I was dining in my
own house. Shortly after, Ugyen, in accordance with Tibetan custom,
made a short speech exhorting Lupa to always inquire after my health
during his absence from Tashilhunpo, and to get for me all such
articles of food, etc., that I might want. He thanked him for his
kindness, and added that, as Lupa and I were old acquaintances, we
should behave to each other as brothers born of the same mother. So
saying, he presented him and his wife with a rupee and a khatag each,
putting the coins in their hands and the scarfs round their necks.
Ugyen then put a khatag around my servant Lhagpa’s neck, telling him to
serve me ever faithfully. Lupa’s daughter, having dressed herself in
her gala dress, danced for us and sang a song, first in the Tibetan
way, then in the Chinese; she sang also a Chinese song, Lupa
accompanying her on the flute (ling-bu). After this Lupa’s wife sang a
song, and then wished us a happy new year. We then took leave of our
hosts, wishing them also a happy new year.

Having inquired if the observance of this day was a purely Tibetan
custom, I gathered from their reply that this was the New Year’s Day
according to the Tibetan custom of the pre-Buddhist period. It is the
only remnant of ancient Tibetan custom, as far as I know, which has not
been displaced by Buddhism.

January 21.—This day was also observed as a holiday by the laity. There
were so few persons in the market-place that Ugyen could buy no
provisions. The minister graciously insisted that I should take up my
quarters in his residence, Puntso khangsar, where he offered me the
library with an attached waiting-room and bath-room.

In the evening Nyima-dorje, the oldest son of the Chyag-dso-pa of
Dongtse, came and consulted me about his eyes. On the right one I found
that a cataract had formed. I told him I was exceedingly sorry I had no
medicines with me to suit his case, but that Ugyen was going to
Calcutta as soon as he had obtained a passport, and that he would bring
back some drugs with him. He then said that it was this passport that
had brought him here to speak to the minister about, and that he
believed it would be ready in a day or two.

January 22.—I resumed reading English and working sums in arithmetic
with the minister. After reading a few lines he turned over the pages
of Ganot’s ‘Physics,’ and asked me to explain the diagrams on
telegraphy and the camera obscura. He wanted everything explained to
him; but, unfortunately for me, I was not myself acquainted with most
of the subjects which excited his curiosity. Not prepared to expose my
ignorance, I dwelt longer on such questions as I could best explain,
and with which I was most familiar; but in spite of all my attempts to
evade his inquisitiveness, the shrewd minister gauged me well, and
expressed his earnest desire to meet such men as I had described to
him, Dr. Sircar and my brother, Navin Chandra, to be.

In the afternoon Nyima-dorje brought the lam-yig (passport), and
presented it to the minister. We were called in and shown it; but Ugyen
disapproved of it, as nothing was said in it of his return journey
here, so it was sent back for correction.

January 23.—Crowds of visitors came to receive the minister’s blessing
(chyag-wang); among them were many Khalkhas and other Mongols from
remote sections of that country. The Khalkhas were introduced by
Lobzang Arya, my cook during my first sojourn at Tashilhunpo in 1879,
and now a man of standing and elder (gyer-gyan) of the Khalkha
Kham-tsan. The minister talked with him in Mongolian, after receiving
the pilgrims with much kindness.

January 24.—Early in the morning I was called by the minister, and
found a young monk of the Nyagpa Ta-tsang (a Tantrik school) [179]
sitting with him. The minister asked me to examine his eyes, which were
a little swollen, telling me at the same time that this young man had
served him devotedly during his residence at the Nyag-khang, and was
deserving of my care. I gave him a few doses of alum lotion to wash his
eyes with, and made him promise to walk round the monastery several
times a day whenever it was fair weather.

In the afternoon I lunched with the Tung-chen, and we conversed about
the high winds which at this season blow every afternoon. He spoke also
of the Phagri pass, and told me that the collector of customs (Serpon)
there was a friend of his, and that if Ugyen went to Darjiling by the
Phagri pass, he could give him a letter of introduction to that
officer. I thanked him for his kindness, adding that Ugyen preferred
the Lachan pass, as he had a passport from the commander of Shigatse
which did not extend to Phagri djong.

January 25.—The minister told me that in certain stellar maps he had
examined he saw that figures were given the different constellations,
and that he understood these figures really existed in the sky; so,
wishing to see them, he had bought a large telescope at much cost. He
did not know, however, how to use it, and was most anxious to have a
well-illustrated work on astronomy, that he might know what to look for
and where to look for it. He also remembered my saying that the regions
of the moon, Saturn, and even of the sun, were visible through the
telescope, and he was curious to know what these luminaries contained,
for he had hitherto been under the impression that these celestial
bodies were angelic luminaries who, for the excellence of their moral
merits, had been promoted to celestial mansions of different heights,
thence to shed on us their radiant lustre, and thereby guide all living
beings of the earth in the path of dharma.

While we were thus talking Nyima-dorje arrived, and presented the
passport to his holiness. After perusing it he handed it to me, and I
passed it to Ugyen. We found that the commanders of Shigatse (Dahpon),
in order to prevent the introduction of small-pox, had instructed in it
the Djongpon of Khamba to examine the contents of our boxes, to prevent
contagion being brought into the country in them. This would put the
Djongpon in a position to exact from Ugyen any amount of money he might
choose; but as it would be inconvenient to wait longer for a corrected
lam-yig, the minister advised Ugyen to be satisfied with the present
one, and to do the best he could with it.

January 26.—Ugyen declared that Phurchung’s services were absolutely
necessary to him, and asked that he be lent to him for six months,
adding that without him he would not start on the journey. After
breakfast the minister consulted with the Tung-chen and Gopa about
keeping me with him. Arrangements were soon made; but they all objected
to my keeping Lhagpa as my servant, telling me that a Shigatse man
could not be trusted, as they were cunning, deceitful, and faithless.
He added that, as he had undertaken to look to my wants and comforts,
there was not the least necessity for my keeping a servant at my own
expense. Fearing lest he should suspect me of ulterior designs, I at
once accepted his decision, though I had hoped, by means of Lhagpa, to
keep myself informed of what was going on in the monastery and the
town, I myself being practically confined within the walls of the
minister’s residence, as I was required, according to custom, to wait
upon his holiness.

January 27.—Ugyen and Phurchung busied themselves in preparing for the
journey. The former took a pair of Gyantse blankets and a suit of
lambskin clothes, and I gave Phurchung a pair of my own blankets for
his use during the journey. They purchased a large quantity of sheep’s
fat to distribute among the Sikkimese on the way. Dried mutton, tsamba,
and sheep’s fat are the dainties the Sikkimese esteem above all others.
They hired four ponies to ride and carry their luggage.

In the evening we were invited to take tea with the minister, when
Ugyen took formal leave, making three profound bows to his holiness,
and praying that his blessing might always be on him, and that, by the
mercy of the sacred Buddhas, he might reach his destination safely.

January 28.—To-day, the 10th of the 12th moon, was considered a highly
auspicious day on which to start for India. At 6 o’clock Ugyen,
Phurchung, and I went to the minister’s apartment, when his holiness,
after a short prayer, wished them a safe and pleasant journey, and
placed khatag on their necks. At Ugyen’s special request I desired
Phurchung in a short speech to serve Ugyen as he would serve me, to
which he answered, “La laso, laso” (yes, sir, yes). Then we returned to
the Torgod chyi-khang, our lodging, where, after breakfast, I presented
parting khatag to my faithful companions. The scene was extremely
touching, and they shed tears at leaving me alone. I, too, could not
suppress my feelings as I exhorted them to take care of themselves in
the snows, and to be prepared for heavy snowfalls. They both rode off
in high spirits towards Delel. [180]

Shortly after I sent Wang-chyug gyalpo and the minister’s page to fetch
my clothes, utensils, etc., to my new quarters. They brought some, and
told me that my trusted servant, Lhagpa, was quietly carrying off my
kettles and plates. I immediately went to the Torgod chyi-khang, and
asked him to give up the missing articles, but he denied any knowledge
of them, though we could see the breast of his gown stuffed out with
them, and he insisted the devils (de) must have carried them off. I at
once sent for the Nyerpa and the Tung-chen. It was impossible, however,
to search Lhagpa, so we had to confine ourselves to drawing up a list
of the things missing and of the things I had with me; and then,
locking the door of my lodgings, the Tung-chen told Lhagpa to return
quietly to his house. The Tung-chen smiled at the roguery of my trusted
servant, and made me understand that I knew very little about Tibetans,
and that I should not have trusted Shigatse people.

January 29.—The minister came to my rooms, and insisted on nailing up a
curtain, so as to divide the room in two, the books in the northern
part, and my seat and bedstead in the southern half of it. He said that
such an arrangement was necessary, as the books were of arsenical
paper, and I would fall ill if I continually breathed the air of this
place. Underneath my room was the cook-room (sol-tab), the heat from
which kept the library dry and warm. There was but one window, about
four feet square, in my room, through which I could see the Nartang
hills.

At 9 o’clock breakfast was announced, when the Nyerpa conducted me to
the minister’s presence. Tea was served me in a pretty china cup, and
Kachan gopa brought me a bowl of tsamba and a few slices of boiled
mutton, and, noticing my difficulty in making dough of the tsamba and
tea after the Tibetan fashion, took it from me and mixed it himself,
twirling the cup on the palm of his hand, and mixing the flour and tea
with his forefinger.

In the dining-room there was a parrot lately presented to the minister
by the Chyan-dso shar of Tashilhunpo, and a small saffron plant raised
from some seed brought from Kashmir. This plant throve well, I was
told, but yielded no saffron.

After breakfast I returned to my studies, and, with the permission of
the minister, commenced a search for Sanskrit books in his library. At
noon the cook placed on an earthenware stove near me a pot of steaming
tea, and in the afternoon he filled it again. I was told it was
injurious to drink cold water; Tibetans very seldom drink it; the
laymen quench their thirst with draughts of cold fermented barley
liquor (chang), and lamas with hot tea.

As the minister, on account of his vows, was debarred from eating in
the afternoon, evening, or night, he desired me to take my supper with
the secretary; so when the lamp was lighted I went downstairs, and sat
gossiping in the kitchen with him.

January 30.—To-day I discovered three Sanskrit works written in the
Tibetan character. They were the Kavyadarsha, by Acharya Sri Dandi; the
Chandra Vyakarana, by Chandra Gomi; and the Sarasvat Vyakarana, by
Acharya Ami. I was transported with joy when I saw that they contained
explanations in Tibetan.

In the afternoon I showed Sri Dandi’s work to the minister, who, to my
surprise, was able to give me more information concerning him than I
had expected, and he had committed the entire work to memory. “Dandi,”
he said, “must have lived a thousand and more years ago, for this work
was translated into Tibetan by one of the Sakya hierarchs who lived
about six hundred years ago, and it is probable that the work was not
very new when it came to be known in this country.”

January 31.—Preparations for the new year’s ceremonies now occupy the
attention of all classes. Large numbers of men are coming to take the
first vows of monkhood, and Kachan Shabdung introduced to-day a number
of them to his holiness. The minister’s time was largely taken up with
these religious duties, and I could not see him for more than ten or
twelve minutes. When I withdrew to my room, the astrologer, Lobzang,
came to see me; he was busy with the almanac for the new year, and kept
turning over its pages to see if there were any mistakes. The minister
also had to examine it before submitting it to the Grand Lama.

Lobzang, seeing the lithographic press, was curious to know what “those
stones and wheeled apparatus,” as he put it, were meant for. He begged
me to explain the process of printing, but I evaded his questions, as I
had been told not to talk of the press to outsiders.

In the evening the Deba Shika arrived with a large supply of butter and
tsamba, evidently to be used in the new year’s ceremonies.

From this time on I devoted myself to the study of the sacred books and
histories of Tibet, and ceased to keep a regular diary, noting only
such things concerning the customs and manners of the country as seemed
interesting. When I felt tired of Tibetan I refreshed my mind with the
melodious verses of Dandi’s Kavyadarsha, both in the original and the
Tibetan translation, and during my leisure hours I conversed with the
Tung-chen, the Nyerpa, and other well-informed men.

The first part of February was very cold; the north wind blew daily,
raising clouds of dust in the plain to the west and south of the city.
People, however, were busily engaged out-of-doors, gathering fuel and
tending cattle; in fact, this is the busiest season of the year, a
period of universal merry-making, and also of great activity in trade.

The Tibetans, whether monks or laymen, are very early risers. In the
monastery the great trumpet (dung chen) summoned the monks to the
congregation hall for prayers at three in the morning, and those who
failed to be present were punished at the Tsog-chen; for, though there
is no roll call, yet the absence of a single monk is surely remarked by
the provost.

The minister, who frequently peeped into my room to see whether I was
studying or no, excused me from early rising on the ground that he
often found me up with my books at midnight.

On the 16th I was asked by the Deba Shika to go with him the following
day to see the Grand Lama dance, or cham. [181] On my observing that I
feared the whips of the stage guards (djim-gag-pa) if I mixed with the
crowd, he promised to have seats reserved for our party.

Early the next morning men and women dressed in their best began
streaming into the monastery to see the cham. Accompanied by the
Tung-chen, the Deba Shika, and a lama friend, we went our way towards
the Nyag-khang, in the courtyard of the Tsug-la khang, in which the
dances were to begin. On the way we stopped to visit an old chapel
containing several inscriptions relating to Gedun-dub, the founder of
Tashilhunpo, and the mark of a horse’s hoof impressed on a rock, which
passers-by touch with their heads. [182]

Then we took our seats on the balcony of the second floor of the
Nyag-khang building, and watched the preparations for the dance.
Twenty-four sacred flags of satin, with embroidered figures of dragons
and other monsters worked in threads of gold, were first unfurled at
the top of long and slender poplar poles, and square parti-coloured
flags were also hung all around the Tsug-la khang. About a dozen monks
wearing coats of mail had masks which, for the most part, represented
eagles’ heads. The dancers entered one after the other, and then
followed the abbot of the Nyag-pa Ta-tsan, Kusho Yon-djin Lhopa by
name, holding a dorje in his right hand, and a bell in his left. He
wore a yellow mitre-shaped cap, with lappets covering his ears and
hanging down to his breast. He was tall and fair; he looked
intelligent, his manners were most dignified, and he performed his part
most cleverly.

After a while the flag-bearers, the masked monks, and all the cortége
repaired to the great Tsug-la khang of Tashilhunpo, which is about 300
yards long and 150 feet broad. Round this courtyard are four-storied
buildings with handsome pillared balconies, the Grand Lama’s seat being
on the western side. The long balconies on the east and south were
occupied by the nobility of Tsang, and those on the north by Mongol
pilgrims and a number of Shigatse merchants. The abbots of the four
Ta-tsan had seats just above the Nyag-pa, who, to the number of fifty
odd, and assisted by their Om-dse [183] and the Dorje Lopon, these
holding in their hands cymbals and tambourines, went through a short
religious service under the direction of the Kusho Yon-djin Lhopa. This
latter made during this service peculiar motions with his hands, in
which he held, as I have said, a dorje and a bell.

When this was over a figure with a dark-coloured mask, and representing
the Hoshang Dharma-tala, [184] advanced, and the spectators flung him
khatags, which his two yellow-faced wives picked up. When these three
had left the scene, the four kings of the four cardinal points
appeared, dressed in all the wild and barbaric splendour in which such
monarchs could indulge. Then came the sons of the gods, some sixty in
number, dressed in beautiful silk robes glittering with gold
embroideries and precious stones. These were followed by Indian
atsaras, whose black and bearded faces and uncouth dress excited loud
laughter among the crowd. Then appeared four guardians of the graves,
whose skeleton-like appearance was meant to remind the spectators of
the terrors of death. After this the devil was burnt in effigy on a
pile of dry sedge, and with this the cham came to an end. [185] While
it was in progress incense was burnt on Mount Dolma (Dolmai-ri), behind
the monastery, and on all the other neighbouring mountain-tops. I
learnt from the Tung-chen that there were several books on the subject
of these religious dances and music.

The following day (February 18) I went with the Tung-chen for a walk.
Proceeding about 300 paces, we came to a flight of stone steps below
the western gateway. This latter, which is some twelve feet high and
eight wide, has massive doors, which are closed between sunset and
sunrise; it is the principal entrance of the monastery. About fifty
feet beyond this gate, and on a line with the gilt mausolea of the
grand lamas (gya-phig), we came to another flight of steps, some of
them cut in the rock, which led us to the north-western corner of the
monastery and well up the slope of the Dolmai-ri, whence we obtained a
good view of the whole of Tashilhunpo monastery, the adjacent villages
and mountains.

We now turned to the north-east along a narrow rocky path, which
brought us behind the Nyag-khang. I was surprised to notice among the
rocks some willows (chyang-ma) in flower, and we saw also the impress
of hoofs on the rocks, left there, the Tung-chen said, by the chargers
of some Bodhisattvas; rang chyung, or “naturally produced,” the
Tibetans say of such marvels. There were several half-starved pariah
dogs lying about, who looked at us with sleepy eyes, and the Tung-chen
remarked that in all probability they had been sinful gelong (monks) in
some former existence, and were now expiating their evil deeds. He much
regretted that we had not brought some balls of tsamba for them.

Some 200 paces farther on in the same direction we came to a huge stone
building called Kiku-tamsa. It is about 60 paces in length and 30 in
breadth, and I counted nine stories in it. Though it is upwards of two
hundred years old, it is still in excellent repair. Captain Turner made
a sketch of it in 1783, [186] but he mistook it for “a religious
edifice.” It is at present used as a godown for dried carcasses of
yaks, sheep, and goats. Every year, in the latter part of November, all
the sacred pictures of the Labrang are hung up on this building for the
benefit of the people, who, by touching these paintings with their
foreheads, receive the blessings of the gods they represent. [187]

On our way down to the eastern gateway of Tashilhunpo we met two Ladaki
Tibetans, who told us that they had just come from the Chang-tang, or
the desert in the north-western part of Tibet. [188]

The Tung-chen showed me the Dongtse Kham-tsan, where the people of
Dongtse and neighbourhood put up. We also saw a juniper bush planted by
Gedun-dub, the founder of Tashilhunpo, in which that saintly lama’s
hair is said to still exist. [189] I had pointed out to me, as we
walked along the spacious buildings of the Taisamling college, the Kyil
khang Ta-tsan and the Shartse college.

The descent to the foot of the hill proved very steep, but all along it
we found rows of prayer-wheels, which we put in motion as we passed;
near the gateway, and beside a mendong, there were two dozen of them
together.

Passing by the main Mani lha-khang, we reached the eastern gateway of
Tashilhunpo. Over it is a notice forbidding smoking within the
monastery, for both the red and yellow-hat schools of lamaism strongly
denounce tobacco-smoking by monks.

From this gateway a road leads south to the Kiki-naga, where the Grand
Lama’s mother resides, while another runs westward to the court of the
Tashi lama, or Labrang gyal-tsan tonpo.

It was dusk when we had finished our walk around the monastery, and
lamps were already burning in many of the houses to bid farewell to the
old year.

February 19, New Year’s Day. [190]—The preparations for the day’s
celebration commenced before dawn, and the noise of the blowing of the
kitchen fires never ceased, as there were many dishes and dainties to
be got ready for the dinner the minister was to give to a large party
of nobles and incarnate lamas.

When the minister came back from visiting the Grand Lama, he told me
that the latter had inquired about me, as he had some translation into
Sanskrit which he desired I should make for him. “His holiness,” the
minister said, “has given me a hundred and twenty titles of chapters of
a work he has written, and wishes you to put them into Sanskrit for
him.” The minister further said that when I had finished this work he
would present me to the Grand Lama.

The next day the minister was called to Dongtse by the illness of the
Dahpon Phala’s wife; his prayers, it was hoped, would restore her to
health. About a week after his departure he was suddenly recalled by
the Grand Lama, with whom he had, on March 3, a long conference. The
Dalai lama’s Government had protested against the Tashi lama having
taken the vows of monkhood from the Sakhya Pan-chen, a red-hat lama,
the hierarch of the Sakhya school. The Dalai lama charged him with
encouraging heresy, if not with being a heretic himself. It was for
this reason that the Tashi lama had not been invited to ordain the
supreme ruler of Tibet, for, belonging to the Gelugpa or yellow-hat
school, the Dalai lama could have no connection with the school of
which the Sakhya Pan-chen was the chief.

On March 4 the minister ordained some forty monks gelong. Formerly the
Grand Lama used to perform this ceremony himself, but he has now
delegated a large portion of his religious duties, including
ordination, to the minister. [191]

Two days after this the minister was again asked to go to Dongtse, as
the wife of the Dahpon was still ill, and he (the Dahpon) had orders to
proceed at once to Lhasa. The minister asked me if I would accompany
him, and I readily assented, as it would enable me to make arrangements
for my journey to Lhasa during the next summer.

On March 7 we started, and reached Tashigang the same day. Some of the
people we passed were already ploughing, and the trees showed signs of
budding.

The next day we reached Dongtse by 4 o’clock in the afternoon. We found
the Dahpon’s wife, a lady of about thirty, and his sister, Je-tsun
Kusho, in the central room of the fifth floor of the castle (phodrang).

The Lhacham was dressed in a Mongol robe; on her head was a
crown-shaped ornament studded with precious stones and pearls of every
size. Pearl necklaces, strings of amber and coral hung over her breast,
and her clothes were of the richest Chinese satin brocades and the
finest native cloth. [192] The Je-tsun Kusho, an elderly woman and a
nun, was dressed very plainly; but, though nuns all shave their heads,
she wore all her hair. She belonged, it appears, to the Nyingma school,
which allows nuns certain privileges, this one among others. [193]

The following day I prescribed some medicines for Je-tsun Kusho, who
was suffering from bronchitis, and four days later I administered some
to the Dahpon’s wife, who had had until then a lama from the Tse-chan
monastery attending her. My medicines did her no good, and at this the
minister appeared much concerned. I tried a second dose, but with like
absence of effect. In fact, the Lhacham felt worse, and said that evil
stars were in the ascendant in her quarter of the sky (khams), and
would work her ruin. Some people, she said, insisted she was being
persecuted by evil spirits who had followed her here from Tingri
(Djong), but she did not believe it; it was the stars which were
against her. The minister looked at me and asked me how it was that my
medicines were unavailing in the Lhacham’s case. In the midst of a dead
silence I told him that all the medicines which different persons had
administered to the patient were affecting her nervous system, each in
a different way. I had heard her say that she had first taken those of
a Chinese quack, then those of a Nepalese physician, and lastly the
medicines of several learned lama doctors. Under the circumstances I
should not have prescribed for her at all, but that as every one had
expected me to do something for her, I had ceded to their wishes. It
was, however, my opinion that if the Lhacham would be cured, the only
medicine she required was no medicine at all.

Under this new treatment, which she promptly adopted, there was a
marked improvement in the Lhacham’s health within the next ten days. I
used frequently to talk with her, and she seemed to entertain a kind
regard for me. One day the minister suggested in her presence that it
would be a good thing if I could be sent to Lhasa to see the Lord
Buddha, the incarnate Shenrezig, the Dalai lama. The Lhacham approved
the suggestion, and promised to have me lodged in her residence at
Lhasa, and to take me under her protection while there.

On March 23 I left Dongtse for Tashilhunpo. On the way to Tashigang we
saw lambs picking the young shoots of grass, and the country folk were
busy in the fields with their yaks, which were decorated with red,
yellow, blue, and green hair tassels, and collars of coloured wool, and
cowries. The farmers hold certain religious ceremonies on beginning
ploughing and on first putting the yokes (nya-shing) on their yaks.
They also have at this time most amusing ploughing races.

Beyond Norbu khyung-djin we saw, as we rode along, afar off on a slope
of rock, incised in gigantic characters, the sacred formulæ, Om vajra
pani hum, om wagishvari hum, om ah hum, etc.

The next day, at 3 p.m., just as we reached the house of the Deba
Shika, there was quite a heavy fall of snow. On the 25th we arrived at
Tashilhunpo, and I once more took up my interrupted historical studies.



CHAPTER V.

FROM TASHILHUNPO TO YAMDO SAMDING, AND THENCE TO LHASA.


On Wednesday, April 26, 1882, being the eighth day of the third moon of
the water-horse year of the Tibetan cycle, I left Tashilhunpo for
Dongtse, there to make my final arrangements for the journey to Lhasa.

The cook, Dao-sring, nicknamed Aku chya-rog, or “Uncle Daw,” on account
of the dirt and soot which always covered his face, now turned out with
well-washed face and hands, in new leather boots and fur cap, and
helped me to mount my pony.

Tsering-tashi, who had been designated to accompany me, had procured
all that was necessary for a long journey—butter, meat, pounded dry
mutton, spices, rice, a copper kettle, an iron pan, flint stones,
tinder, and a bellows, and the Tung-chen had presented me with tsamba,
chura, and pea-flour for the use of the servants, and peas for the
ponies. Of all the articles Tsering-tashi had brought, the one which he
valued the most was a bamboo tea-churn, [194] which he thought the most
beautiful and useful of all our belongings.

I tied up my medicine-case in one of my saddle-bags, and in the other I
put my clothes, and at 2 o’clock we started. There were five of us in
the party, all mounted, and riding in single file: first came the
Tung-chen, then I, then came Tsering-tashi, and the cook and a groom
brought up the rear. We followed the same road I had already gone over
on several occasions, and stopped the first night at Chyang-chu, where
we put up in the house of our friend the Deba Shikha.

April 27.—About two inches of snow had fallen in the night, and there
was a slight fog when we got up in the morning. In front of the house I
noticed some men and women digged a kind of root called rampa. This
underground grass acquires, in some places, a length of five or six
feet, and in the early spring, when vegetables and forage are scarce,
it is dug up. The people know where to dig for it by the little shoots
which rise above the ground. [195]

We were detained at Chyang-chu all day, waiting for Tsering-tashi, who
had been obliged to stop over at Tashi-gyantsa to make some purchases.

In the evening tea was served by Po-ka-chan, a grey-haired monk who
works on the estates of the minister at Tanag. He had travelled much in
Kongpo, Naga, and among the Mishmis, and in Tsari. He related how the
savage Lhokabra [196] harassed the Tibetan pilgrims, and how the
Tsang-po river entered the country of defiles in Eastern Bhutan,
rushing in a tremendous waterfall over the top of a gigantic precipice
called the “Lion’s Face,” or Sing-dong.

April 28.—The villagers had all assembled to bid us farewell, and the
Tung-chen’s sister presented me with a “scarf for good luck” (tashi
khatag). We saw as we rode along numerous flocks of cranes (tontong),
and brown ducks with red necks were swimming in the river and the
irrigation ditches. We stopped for the night at Pishi Mani lhakhang,
where Angputti received us with the same kindness she had shown us on
my former visits. Snow fell during the night, but our hostess’s
servants watched over our ponies, and stabled them under the roof of
the okhang, [197] or godown, on the ground floor.

We reached Dongtse at 4 p.m. on the 29th, and took up our lodgings in
the Choide; but in the evening the Deba Chola came and invited us to
put up at the castle, where the minister was still staying.

The Tung-chen took an early opportunity to inform the minister that his
presence was anxiously expected at Tashilhunpo, where hundreds of lamas
were awaiting his return to be ordained gelong (priests). He also told
him that the Mirkan Pandita, a Mongol Kutuketu who had come to Tibet
for the sole purpose of studying under the minister, now intended
coming to Dongtse, and had begged that arrangements might be made for
his accommodation in the minister’s residence. While the minister
recognized the necessity for his returning to Tashilhunpo, he said he
could not leave until the services for the propitiation of the Lord of
death, Dorje jig-je, to be undertaken for the recovery of the Dahpon’s
wife, were finished.

May 2.—The monks of Dongtse, headed by a learned old lama named Punlo,
arrived at the castle to commence reading the Kahgyur. Arrangements
were made in the nyihok for the worship of Dorje jig-je. Torma
offerings [198] were placed on the terrace on the top of the castle,
and rugs were spread on the floor of the little glazed room (nyihok) on
it for the accommodation of the lamas. In the house was a raised seat
for the minister, and in a corner of the room a little chapel, with all
the necessary church furniture, among which the tsegi bumba, or “bowl
of life,” of Tse-pamed was conspicuous. [199] This propitiatory
ceremony occupied three days.

May 8.—News arrived to-day that small-pox was raging at Lhasa and other
places of Central Tibet. Several persons had also died of it at
Gyantse, and three or four localities between that town and Lhasa were
infected. The Lhacham was in so great dread of the disease that she
confined herself to her sitting-room, refusing to see any one.

On May 9 the Lhacham left for Lhasa, after confiding to the minister’s
care Ane, her third son, a boy of ten, who was destined for the Church.
The Lhacham and her two other sons, Lhasre [200] and Kundi, made their
devotions at the different chapels of the castle, which it took them
nearly an hour to accomplish, and then returned to the fifth story of
the building to receive the minister’s blessing, after which they took
their leave.

At the foot of the ladder in the courtyard a white pony, with handsome
housings of embroidered cloth and a Tartar saddle, awaited the Lhacham.
With her pearl-studded headdress, her gold and ruby charm-boxes, her
necklaces of coral and amber, and her clothes of satin and kinkab, she
looked like a heroine of romance or a goddess.

On the following day I went with the minister and the Kusho Ane, and
took up my residence in the Dongtse Choide. Here I witnessed the
opening ceremonies connected with the Kalachakra mandala worship. The
Om-dse, [201] or high priest of the Choide, with the help of two
assistants, had described with coloured tsamba a circle about 20 feet
in diameter on the floor of the northern room on the third floor of the
Tsug-la khang. Within this mandala were drawn the entrance, spires,
doors, and domes of the Kalachakra mansion. The presiding deity was
tall, many-armed, and had several heads; his attendants were of the
tantrik order of deities, and all these paintings were made in coloured
powders and tsamba. [202] The minister highly praised the work, and
gave as a gratuity to each of the eighty monks of the monastery half a
tanka, and an entertainment of tea and tsamba.

May 11.—A messenger arrived to-day to inform us that the Lhacham would
leave Gyantse the next morning, and that we would do well to see her at
Gyankhar before she started; so, though I was feeling very poorly, I
made up my mind to start at once.

My ponies were brought inside the monastery by Pador, a stalwart young
fellow who had been several times to Lhasa, and who had been chosen by
the Chyag-dso-pa [203] to accompany me, and I got ready to leave early
on the morrow.

At an early hour the next day I went with Tsering-tashi to see the
minister, ask his protection (kyab ju), and beg to be favoured with his
advice as to the conduct of our journey, or sung-ta, as it is called.

As is usual on such occasions, each of us presented him with a khatag,
in the corner of which were tied up a few tankas in a bit of paper, on
which was written our request.

After a hurried breakfast, while the servants were engaged in saddling
the ponies and packing, I went and kotowed to the Buddha in the temple,
placed khatag on the sacred images, and distributed alms to the monks
assembled in the courtyard to offer prayers for my safe journey. Then I
returned to my room, picked out the handsomest khatag I possessed, and
presented it to the minister. His holiness graciously touched my head
with his palms, and in solemn tones said, “Sarat Chandra, Lhasa is not
a good place. The people there are not like those you meet here. The
Lhasa people are suspicious and insincere. You do not know, and, in
fact, you cannot read their character. I advise you not to stay long in
one place there. The Lhacham Kusho is a powerful personage in Lhasa;
she will protect you, but you should so behave as rarely to require her
protection. Stay not long in the vicinity of the Dabung or Sera
monasteries. If you intend to make a long stay at Lhasa, choose your
residence in a garden or village in the suburbs. You have chosen a very
bad time for your pilgrimage, as small-pox is raging all over Central
Tibet; but you will return safely, though the journey will be trying
and fraught with immense difficulties.” [204] Then, turning to
Tsering-tashi, around whose neck the minister’s page put a khatag, he
said to him, “Tsing-ta, I believe you know whom you are accompanying.
You should serve him as you would serve me; your relations with him
must be those of a son with his parents.”

After saying good-bye to the members of the minister’s household,
presenting and receiving khatag and various other little presents, and
drinking tea, I mounted my pony and set out for Gyantse. Thus did I
start on a journey to a hostile, inhospitable, and unknown country with
only two men as my companions, and they strangers to me.

At a huge willow stump I waited a while for Tsering-tashi to join me,
for Pador, with the pack-pony, had gone to his home to get his lance.
As Tsering-tashi came up, he was delighted to see water flowing from a
pool in the direction we were to follow; this he took for a most
auspicious sign. On reaching chorten, about a mile from the town, we
alighted and waited for Pador, who shortly after made his appearance
with a lance full 12 feet long in his hand.

By noon we reached Gyantse, and, passing rapidly through the
market-place, where I feared to be recognized, we entered the Gyankhar,
or castle of Gyantse.

At 1 p.m. the Lhacham and her sons started for Lhasa, and as she passed
by me she told me to meet her at Gobshi that evening.

I was now surrounded by the Chyag-dso-pa and his family, all curious to
see the Indian physician of whom they had heard so much of late. From
what the Chyag-dso-pa told me, I concluded he had chronic bronchitis,
which might end in consumption. I gave him a few grains of quinine and
some doses of elixir of paregoric, and directed him also as to his
diet.

After partaking of some gyatug, rice, and boiled mutton with the
family, I asked permission to leave, and was escorted to the gate,
where, mounting my pony, I bade them farewell.

The Lhasa high-road I found very similar to a rough Indian cross-road;
in some places it is more than 20 feet wide, in others a mere trail,
while in many places, where it runs between fields, it is also made to
serve the purpose of an irrigation ditch. The Tibetan Government pays
very little, if any, attention to road-making, though, in such a dry
climate, it would be easy to construct good ones, and it would be
little trouble to keep them in repair. Thus far on my travels in Tibet
I had seen no wheeled conveyances, and I now learnt that such things
are unknown throughout the country.

Shortly after starting it began snowing heavily. As we rode on along
the bank of the Nyang chu, Tsering-tashi pointed out to me the road to
Phagri, the monastery of Na-ning, the ruins of Gyang-to, both formerly
places of importance. Then we entered the rong, or defiles, [205] where
used to live three tribes of herdsmen, the Gyangro, Ning-ro, and
Gang-ro, who carried on a thriving trade in yak-tails (chowries), felt
hats, felt, and blankets.

Crossing the river at Kudung zampa, we reached by dusk the village of
Gobshi, [206] where the Lhacham had only preceded us a little. I found
her very gloomy, for she had just learnt that there were in the house
where she was now stopping five small-pox patients. I was asked to
vaccinate her and her whole party; but, unfortunately, the lymph which
I had asked for in India had not reached me before leaving Tashilhunpo;
it was still at the Lachan barrier with Ugyen-gyatso.

May 13.—Gobshi, or “four gates,” is a large village of about fifty
houses, half of it belonging to the Lhacham’s father-in-law. There are
a few poplar and pollard willow trees growing in front of the village,
and terraced fields planted with barley extend along the river banks. A
little to the east of the village, in the hills beyond the confluence
of the Nyang and Niro chu, there is a very ancient Bonbo lamasery,
called Khyung-nag, or “Black Eagle” monastery, which in the fifteenth
century was a place of pilgrimage famous throughout Tibet.

After leaving Gobshi, we passed by Kavo gomba, a Ningma religious
establishment, and Tsering-tashi called my attention to the blue and
red bands painted on the walls of the temple and dwellings of the
lamas, telling me that these coloured stripes are characteristic of
this sect.

Pushing on through a number of small villages, the road in some places
extremely difficult and even dangerous, we forded the Nyang chu at
Shetoi, [207] took a short cut to the Ralung zamba, and by 3 p.m.
reached the village of Ralung chong-doi, crossing once more the river
by a wooden bridge before entering it.

Ralung [208] is one of the most sacred places in Tibet, for it is here
that the great Dugpa school of red-hat monks originated, a school still
influential with numerous adherents in Southern, Northern, and Eastern
Tibet, and in Bhutan, which latter country is, in fact, called Dugpa
owing to the preponderance of this sect. The Ralung-til, the head
monastery of the Dugpa, is to the south-east of this village. This
monastery owes its name to the fact that it is surrounded by mountains
as the heart (mt’il) of a lotus is by the corolla.

May 14.—We left without even waiting for a cup of tea, as the Lhacham
was desirous of reaching Nangartse the same day, and, in spite of my
enfeebled condition, I was anxious to keep up with her party, for the
country we had to traverse is infested by brigands.

After following up the river for a while, we ascended the Karo la,
[209] a lofty plateau from which we could distinguish to the north-east
the snow-covered slopes of the Noijin kang-zang (or Noijin norpa
zang-po and Kang zang-po). The plateau of the Karo la is called Oma
tang, or “milky plain,” [210] as is also the little hamlet near the
summit of the pass. On this plateau, which is about five miles broad
where we traversed it, there is fine grazing, and we saw numerous herds
of yaks by the sides of the little streamlets which meander over its
surface, the one flowing westward becoming the Nyang chu; the other
flows to the east, and is called the Kharnang-phu chu, and along this
the road led. On the summit of the pass I noticed a species of thorny
shrub, the like of which I had not seen in any other part of Tibet; the
thorns were quite long, and the stem and leaves of the plant of an ash
grey colour.

A short way down the other side of the pass we came to a little hut
made of loose stones, where we rested and partook of some refreshments.
In conversation with the Lhacham, I mentioned the superiority of sedan
chairs (shing-chyam) over saddle-horses, especially for women when
travelling. But she held that it was degrading men to make them serve
as beasts of burden, and that if it should be tried in Tibet the people
would certainly resent it as an indignity. “There are only the two
Great Lamas, the Amban and the Regent, who are allowed to use sedan
chairs in Tibet,” she went on to say; “no other persons, however great
they may be, can make use of them.”

About six miles down the valley we came to the hamlet of Ring-la, where
the Kharnang-phu chu turns north to empty into the Yamdo-yum-tso. At
this village the Nangartse plain begins, and the monastery of Samding
becomes faintly visible.

The road now became good, and the ponies quickened their pace, and by 5
o’clock we came in view of the town of Nangartse.

The houses of the fishermen and common people (misser) are perched on
the hillside overlooking the prefect’s house (djong), and the broad
blue expanse of Lake Palti’s waters spreads out beyond. The party
stopped, and the Lhacham changed her garments for finer ones, and put
on her jewelled headdress (patug). On arriving at the gate of the house
where we were to stop, there was a raised platform covered with soft
blankets; here the Lhacham alighted, while her sons and the rest of the
party got down near by.

The brother and nephew of the host were laid up with small-pox
(lhan-dum), and in a corner of the house some lamas were reading the
holy books to bring about their speedy recovery. [211] In the courtyard
lay another man lately arrived from Lhasa, and suffering from the same
disease, and near him were two lamas chanting mantras to the discordant
accompaniment of a bell and a damaru (hand drum).

I passed a miserable night, with a raging fever and violent cough
racking my whole frame. My two companions sat beside me and did what
they could, but concluded that it was impossible in my present state
for me to keep up with the Lhacham’s party all the way to Lhasa.

The next morning I was no better, the fits of coughing were more
violent. The sons of the Lhacham and her attendants came to see me, and
expressed their sorrow at having to leave me. The host said that the
best thing for me to do was to go to the Samding monastery, where there
were two skilful physicians who had recently successfully treated a
case similar to mine. Hearing this, one of the Lhacham’s maids
suggested that her mistress might give me a letter of introduction to
the lady abbess of this convent, the Dorje Phagmo, with whom she was
related and on the most friendly terms; the only danger was that she
might not allow me to enter her convent, as, on account of the epidemic
of small-pox, she had closed it to pilgrims.

I followed the advice of those around me, and the Lhacham kindly wrote
to the Dorje Phagmo to take care of me and look to my wants; and after
taking an affectionate farewell, and telling me to come straight to her
house at Lhasa as soon as I recovered, she recommended me to the people
of the house and rode off.

After taking a little breakfast, I made up my mind to go at once to the
Samding gomba, which I learnt could be reached in two hours’ ride.

My companions wrapped me in woollens and blankets, and with a turban
round my head they set me on my horse. About two miles from town we
came to the river (the same we had followed since crossing the Kharo
la), and found it teeming with a small variety of fish. After crossing
several rivulets we came to the foot of the hill, on the top of which
stands Samding lamasery. [212] A flight of stone steps led up to the
monastery, and I looked at the long steep ascent with dismay, for I did
not see how I would ever be able to climb it in my present condition.
Taking a rest at every turn in the steps, I managed finally to reach
the top, some 300 feet above the plain. We had not, however, arrived at
the convent; a narrow pathway led up to the gateway, near which were
chained two fierce watch-dogs (do khyi), who barked furiously and
strained at their chains as we passed. The Yamdo dogs, I had heard,
were famous throughout Tibet for their size and fierceness, and these
certainly justified the reputation given them.

I sat down on a stone near the gateway to wait until Tsering-tashi had
looked up the physicians. After an hour he returned and informed me
that one of the Amchi (physicians) was in the lamasery, and he led me
to his house, at the top of which I waited his coming. After a little
while the doctor made his appearance. He was a man of about seventy
years of age, but still sturdy, of middle stature, with an agreeable
face, broad forehead, and dignified appearance. He asked me a few
questions, examined my eyes and tongue, and then led the way into his
house. We ascended two ladders, and thus reached the portico of his
apartment. The old man sat for a while turning his prayer-wheel, and
taking frequent pinches of snuff while he scrutinized me closely. [213]
Then he gave me a powder to be taken in a little warm water, and
ordered his cook to give me some weak tea (cha t’ang), after which,
bearing the Lhacham’s letter in his hand, he went with Tsering-tashi to
present it to the Khyabgong Dorje Phagmo. [214]

In the evening I was led to a house in the western end of the lamasery
belonging to a monk called Gelegs namgyal, where I had to accommodate
myself as best I could under the portico.

Tsing-ta, as Tsering-tashi was usually called, told me that he had
asked the Dorje Phagmo to tell my fortune, and that she had made out
that my illness would prove very severe but not fatal, but the
performance of certain religious ceremonies was most urgently needed to
hasten my recovery. She sent me word that, in view of the letter of
introduction from the Lhacham I had brought with me, she would shortly
be pleased to see me, and that we might have all we required while
stopping in Samding.

The next day my companions asked me to give a “general tea” (mang ja)
to the eighty odd monks of the convent, and to distribute alms to them
at the rate of a karma (two annas) a head. I gave my consent, and at
the same time my companions made, in my name, presents to the Dorje
Phagmo and to the deities that were pointed out to them as best able to
drive away the fiends of disease which surrounded me.

The Dorje Phagmo gave Tsing-ta a sacred pill (rinsel) containing a
particle of Kashyapa Buddha’s relics, and the latter hastened to bring
it to me, and insisted on my swallowing it forthwith. [215]

The Amchi advised me to carefully abstain from drinking cold water,
especially as the water of the lake was injurious to many persons even
when in good health. He also forbade me drinking buttered tea.

By agreeing to pay my host a daily sum of four annas, I managed to rent
his two miserable rooms. They were about six feet by eight, and six
feet high. In the bedroom were a couple of little tables, half a dozen
books, and a couple of boxes; in a corner there was a little altar and
two images of gods.

The next day there was a new moon, and the monks assembled early in the
congregation hall to perform religious services, as on the morrow began
the fourth month (saga dao), [216] the holiest of the year.

At the conclusion of the ceremonies Tsing-ta again saw the Dorje
Phagmo, and, presenting her with a khatag and a couple of tanka,
obtained another sacred pill. The doctor and his assistant impressed
upon me the importance of only taking such medicines as experience had
shown were efficacious in the Yamdo country. They also insisted that it
was essential to my recovery that I should not sleep in the daytime. I
felt so weak and ill that towards midnight I called my companions to my
side, and wrote my will in my notebook. Later on some medicine given me
by the doctor’s assistant, Jerung, brought me some relief.

May 18.—Tsing-ta again gave the lamas a mang ja and money to read the
sacred books to my intent, and got still another sacred pill from the
Dorje Phagmo. On his way back to our quarters he saw the ex-incarnate
lama of the Tse-chog ling of Lhasa. He had been degraded for having
committed adultery.

Seeing no pronounced improvement in my condition, my faithful follower
went again in the afternoon to see the Dorje Phagmo, presented her a
khatag and ten tanka, and got her to perform the ceremony known as
“propitiating the gods of life” (tse dub). She also gave him a long
list of religious rites, which, according to her, it was imperative
that I should immediately get learned lamas to perform to insure my
speedy recovery.

These rites were the following: 1. Reading the Pradjna paramita in 8000
shlokas, together with its supplements—twelve monks could do this in
two days. 2. Making the three portion (cha gsum) offerings, these
consisting in painted wafers of tsamba and butter. One-third is offered
to the ten guardians, Gya-ljin (Indra), the god of fire, the ruler of
Hades, the god of wind, etc.; another portion is offered to the
spirits, and the third to the demi-gods. 3. Gyal-gsol, or propitiating
certain genii to the end that the patient’s mind may be at rest and he
enjoy peaceful dreams. 4. Libations to the gods or Gser-skyems. This is
held to be one of the most efficacious ways of propitiating the gods.
5. “To deceive death” (hchi-slu), by offering an image of the sick
person, together with some of his clothes, and food to the Lord of
death, and beseeching him to accept it instead of the person it
represents. This means is resorted to after all others have failed. 6.
“To deceive life” (srog-slu), by saving from death animals about to be
killed. This is also known as “life-saving charity.” The saving of the
lives of men, beasts, and particularly fishes, is calculated to insure
life. [217] When Tsing-ta proposed this to me, I at once agreed to save
five hundred fish. The old doctor said he would go to the fishermen’s
village, some three miles away, buy the fish, and set them free for me,
if I would but lend him a pony. He came back in the evening, and
reported that he had successfully accomplished this most important
mission, by which much merit would come to me.

In spite of all these rites and observances, for some days my illness
showed no signs of improvement, and so at last, on May 22, Tsing-ta
went once more to the Dorje Phagmo, and, making her a present of five
tanka and a khatag, asked her to find out by her divine knowledge if
the old Amchi was the right man to attend to me. She threw dice
(sho-mon), [218] and then said that the two physicians could be
depended on.

Accordingly, I sent for the physicians, gave them each a present, and
begged them to prepare some new and energetic remedy for me. In the
evening Jerung brought me some pills, which smelt strongly of musk, and
some powders, probably those known as gurkum chusum. [219] After having
taken some of each I felt somewhat better.

By the following morning there was a marked improvement in my
condition, and I was able to sit propped up on my blankets. The news of
the favourable change was at once reported to the Dorje Phagmo, who
advised Tsing-ta to have performed the ceremony for propitiating
Tamdrin, Dorje Phagmo, and Khyung-mo (the Garuda); especially of the
first-named. Tsing-ta made her a further present of seven tanka and a
khatag, and she agreed to perform these ceremonies herself.

May 24.—Early this morning the old doctor visited me. “The danger is
over,” he said; “the fatal stage is passed; you can take a little food,
some tsamba, a little soup and meat.” In truth, I felt so much better
to-day that I took some exercise, and the fresh, bracing air did me a
world of good.

The next day I was able to visit the shrines of Samding, on which tour
my two companions accompanied me, carrying a bowl of butter, a bundle
of incense-sticks, and about fifty khatag.

We first went to visit the kind old physician and his assistant, and I
was much struck by the neat appearance of the floors of his rooms, made
of pebbles very evenly laid in mortar, and beautifully polished. In the
doctor’s sitting-room the walls were frescoed with Buddhist symbols,
trees, and hideous figures of guardian deities. The furniture comprised
of four painted chests of drawers, half a dozen small low tables, some
painted bowls for tsamba, two little wooden altars covered with images
of gods, and some rugs spread on the top of large mattresses. On the
walls hung some religious pictures covered with silk curtains, and in a
corner there were a sword and shield.

On leaving the physician’s house I entered the courtyard of the
monastery, which I found more than 150 feet long, and 100 broad. There
were buildings on three sides, and broad ladders, each step covered
with brass and iron plates, leading to the main floor; the middle
ladder is used by the Dorje Phagmo alone. On inquiring for her
holiness, we learnt that she was engaged in certain religious duties,
and would see me later.

In the meanwhile I visited various chapels and shrines. In the
gong-khang (upper rooms) are lodged the most terrifying of the demons
and genii; their appearance is so awful that they are usually kept
veiled. Almost all the images were dressed in armour, and held various
weapons in their hands. To each of the images Tsing-ta presented a
khatag and a stick of incense, and Pador poured a little butter in the
brass or silver lamps kept continually burning before them.

It is due, by the way, to the Dorje Phagmo’s spiritual influence that
the waters of the inner lake or Dumo tso (“Demons’ Lake”), of the Yamdo
tso, are held in bounds, for otherwise they would overflow and inundate
the whole of Tibet. ’Twas for this that the Samding lamasery was
originally built.

In the largest room on the same floor are the mausolea of the former
incarnations of Dorje Phagmo. The first is made of silver gilt, and was
built in honour of Je-tsun Tinlas-tsomo, [220] the founder of the
monastery. The whole surface of the monument is studded over with large
turquoises, coral beads, rubies, emeralds, and pearls. In shape it
resembles a chorten, six to seven feet square at the base. Inside of
it, on a slab of stone, is an impress of the foot of the illustrious
deceased. The second monument is also of silver, and in shape like the
preceding, but I could not ascertain the name of the incarnation in
whose honour it had been erected. The third, also of silver, is that of
Nag-wang kun-bzang, the predecessor last but one of the present
incarnation, and has around it, placed there as great curios, some
pieces of European chinaware and some toys. The upper part of the
monument is most tastefully decorated with gold and precious stones.
This work, I believe, has been done by Nepalese, though some persons
said it is of native workmanship.

In another room, not open to the public, however, are the mortal
remains of the former incarnations of Dorje Phagmo. I was told that
each incarnation of this goddess visits this hall once in her life to
make obeisance to the remains of her predecessors.

After visiting all the shrines we returned to the Dorje Phagmo’s
apartments, where I was most kindly received. She occupied a raised
seat, and I was given a place on her left, while the ex-incarnate lama,
of whom I have previously spoken, occupied one a little behind her, but
his seat was higher than mine. The ceremony of propitiating Tamdrin
(Hayagriva) was proceeding, and twelve lamas in full canonicals were
acting as assistants. A number of respectably dressed men and women who
had come to be blessed were also seated about on rugs.

The service lasted about two hours. Every now and then the Dorje Phagmo
used an aspergill, with an end of peacock feathers and kusha grass,
[221] to sprinkle saffron water taken from a “bowl of life,” most of
it, much to my annoyance, for I feared catching cold, falling on me,
but it was a much envied token of her special favour. I could not catch
the words of the charms (mantras) she uttered, as she spoke very
rapidly, so as to get through the services as quickly as she could.

At the termination of the service sugared tsamba balls, about the size
of bullets, most of them painted red, were distributed among those
present. Before each person received any he prostrated himself before
her holiness, who then gave them to him.

When all the spectators had left, the Dorje Phagmo told me that she
took great interest in my recovery on account of the Lhacham, who was
not only her friend, but her half-sister. I besought her to allow me to
proceed on my journey to Lhasa, as I was most desirous of reaching the
sacred city by the 15th of the present moon (June 1), the birthday of
the Buddha, and she graciously gave me leave to start as soon as I was
strong enough to bear the fatigue of travelling.

On taking leave, she gave me three more sacred pills, and directed her
valet (gzim-dpon) to show me through her residence, where there was
great store of handsomely carved and painted furniture, images of gold,
silver, and copper neatly arranged on little altars. There was also a
library with about 3000 volumes of printed and manuscript books. One
work, in 118 volumes, was by Podong-chogleg namgyal, the founder of the
sect to which the Dorje Phagmo belongs.

The present incarnation of the divine Dorje Phagmo is a lady of
twenty-six, Nag-wang rinchen kunzang wangmo by name. She wears her hair
long; her face is agreeable, her manners dignified, and somewhat
resembling those of the Lhacham, though she is much less prepossessing
than she. It is required of her that she never take her rest lying
down; in the daytime she may recline on cushions or in a chair, but
during the night she sits in the position prescribed for meditation.
[222]

I learnt that the Dorje Phagmo, or the “Diamond Sow,” is an incarnation
of Dolma (Tara), the divine consort of Shenrezig. In days of old,
before the time when the Buddha Gautama appeared, there was a hideous
monster called Matrankaru, who spread ruin and terror over all the
world. He was the chief of all the legions of demons, goblins, and
other evil spirits; even the devils (raksha) of Ceylon had to become
his subjects. He subdued to his rule not only this world, but the eight
planets, the twenty-four constellations, the eight Nagas, and the gods.
By his miraculous power he could lift Mount Rirab (Sumeru) on the end
of his thumb.

Finally the Buddha and gods held council to compass about Matrankaru’s
destruction, and it was decided that Shenrezig should take the form of
Tamdrin (“Horse-neck”), and his consort, Dolma, that of Dorje Phagmo
(“the Diamond Sow”). When the two had assumed these forms they went to
the summit of the Malaya mountains, and Tamdrin neighed three times, to
fill the demon with terror, and Dorje Phagmo grunted five times, to
strike terror into the heart of Matrankaru’s wife, and soon both were
lying prostrate at the feet of the two divinities. But their lives were
spared them, and Matrankaru became a devout follower of the Buddha, a
defender of the faith (chos gyong), and was given the name of Mahakala.

In 1716, when the Jungar invaders of Tibet came to Nangartse, their
chief sent word to Samding to the Dorje Phagmo to appear before him,
that he might see if she really had, as reported, a pig’s head. A mild
answer was returned him; but, incensed at her refusing to obey his
summons, he tore down the walls of the monastery of Samding, and broke
into the sanctuary. He found it deserted, not a human being in it, only
eighty pigs and as many sows grunting in the congregation hall under
the lead of a big sow, and he dared not sack a place belonging to pigs.

When the Jungars had given up all idea of sacking Samding, suddenly the
pigs disappeared to become venerable-looking lamas and nuns, with the
saintly Dorje Phagmo at their head. Filled with astonishment and
veneration for the sacred character of the lady abbess, the chief made
immense presents to her lamasery.

May 26.—To-day we made our preparations for the journey to Lhasa, and
as food of all kinds was very scarce at Samding, the Dorje Phagmo was
so kind as to supply us with all the necessary provisions. The old
doctor presented me with a basket of dried apricots and some rice, and
our landlord brought us some wild goose eggs.

May 27.—We left to-day for Lhasa. From a little hillock behind our
lodgings I cast a last glance towards the lake and the dark hills
around it, behind which rose the snow-covered mountains. My eyes fell
on the Dumo tso, and on the place where the dead are thrown into the
lake, and I shuddered as I thought that this had come near being my
fate. Dead bodies throughout Tibet are cut up and fed to vultures and
dogs, but on the shores of Lake Yamdo the people throw their dead into
the lake. It is generally believed that a number of Lu (serpent
demi-gods) live in Lake Yamdo, and that they keep the keys of heaven.
In a palace of crystal in the deep recesses of the lake lives their
king, and the people think that by throwing their dead into the lake
there is a chance for them of reaching heaven by serving the king of
the Lu during the period intervening between death and regeneration.
Bardo this time is called.

Passing through cultivated fields, where the ponies sank up to their
knees in mud, we came to a broad steppe where wild goats and sheep and
a few musk deer were grazing. Dorje Phagmo is their special patron, and
no wild animals may be killed in the Yamdo district.

At about 2 o’clock we reached Nangartse, and, passing by the town,
proceeded northward along the bank of the far-famed Yamdo (Palti) lake,
also called Yum tso, or “turquoise lake”—a name which the deep blue
waters of the lake amply justify.

Travelling along the lake-side by the villages of Hailo, [223]
Dab-lung, and Dephu, where the fishermen’s hide boats (kudru) were
drying against the houses, and near which are a few fields where a
little barley is raised, we came to the Kal-zang zamba, where we rested
a while and drank some tea. Though this place is called “bridge”
(zamba), it is in reality an embankment about 300 to 400 feet long
dividing a narrow arm of the lake into two parts.

A little beyond the Kal-zang zamba, at a place where a string of
coloured rags, inscribed with prayers, stretched between two crags on
either side the narrow path, Tsing-ta made me dismount. He climbed on
to a large rock, and scattered a few pinches of tsamba, and, striking a
light, lit an incense-stick, which he fixed in a cleft in the rocks.
This place is called Sharui teng, and is the haunt of evil spirits;
should any traveller neglect to make these offerings, he would incur
their anger.

On reaching Palti djong, [224] we put up at a house where the Lhacham
had stopped when on her way to Lhasa, and were most hospitably
received. We bought some milk, a few eggs, and some chang from the
hostess, who supplied us also with water, firewood, and two earthen
cooking-pots. I was offered some fish, but I forbore buying any, as it
would have been incompatible with my character of a pious pilgrim, such
indulgence being forbidden by the Dalai lama. The Grand Lama, I must
mention, having lately taken the vows of monkhood, had issued an edict
prohibiting his subjects killing or eating fish for the space of one
year.

From ancient times the town of Palti has been a famous seat of the
Nyingma sect, and the lake was popularly known by its name. The name of
the town as applied to the lake by foreigners probably originated with
the Catholic missionaries who visited Tibet in the eighteenth century.

When, in the eighteenth century, the Jungars invaded Tibet, their wrath
was especially turned against the lamaseries and monks of the Nyingma
sect. There then lived in Palti djong a learned and saintly lama,
called Palti Shabdung, well versed in all the sacred literature, and
proficient in magic arts. Hearing that the invaders had crossed the
Nabso la and were marching on Palti, he, by his art, propitiated the
deities of the lake who caused the waters of the lake to appear to the
Jungar troops like a plain of verdure, so that they marched into the
lake and were drowned, to the number of several thousands. Another
corps which had advanced by the Khamba la, not finding the troops which
had gone by the Nabso la, retraced their steps, and so the town of
Palti was saved.

May 28.—We left by daylight, and followed along the shore of the lake
till we reached the foot of the Khamba la. The ascent was comparatively
easy; on the rocks by the wayside were painted in many places images of
Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. From Tamalung, [225] a small village halfway
up the mountain, a trail led eastward along the cliffs overhanging the
lake, and the sinuosities of the shore could be followed with the eye
to the remote horizon.

On the summit of the pass are two large cairns, to which each of my
companions added a stone; they also tied a rag to the brush sticking
out above the heaps, and already covered with such offerings. Then they
made an offering of a little tsamba and some dust, instead of wine, to
the mountain god, reciting a prayer the while, which they brought to an
end by shouting—


           “Lha sol-lo, Lha sol-lo!
            Lha gyal lo, lha gyal lo!
            Kei-kei—ho, hooo!”


From this point I enjoyed one of the grandest views I have ever had in
Tibet—the valley of the Tsang-po was before me, the great river flowing
in a deep gorge at the foot of forest-clad mountains. Here and there
was to be seen a little hamlet, most of the white-walled houses
surrounded by a cluster of tall trees.

By 3 o’clock we had reached the foot of the pass, the way down being
over a tedious zigzag for over five miles. Along the wayside grew
brambles and wild roses, a few evergreens and rhododendrons, and some
flocks of sheep were grazing on the hillsides.

Then we came to a sluggish stream, and shortly after reached the
straggling village of Khamba partshi, [226] with some forty wretched
stone hovels. Passing through a patch of barley surrounded by pollard
willows, we reached the sandy banks of the Tsang-po, and followed along
it to Tongbu, the surrounding plain being known as Khamba chyang tang.

Two women weeding their barley patch approached me as I rode by, and
offered me a bunch of the young sprouts, in the hope, as Tsing-ta
explained, that I would give them some money. This is a custom
obtaining throughout Tibet, and is called lubul.

Further on, near Toi-tsi, we saw women making bricks, and some donkeys
and yaks were carrying away those which had become sufficiently dry to
be used. Two miles beyond this point we came to the famous Palchen
chuvori monastery and the chain bridge (chag-zam) over the Tsang-po.
This bridge, built, tradition says, by Tang-tong gyal-po in the
fifteenth century, consists of two heavy cables attached at each end to
huge logs, around which have been built large chorten. [227]

The bed of the river here is about 400 feet broad, but at this season
of the year it spreads out several hundred feet beyond the extremities
of the bridge, and travellers are taken across in boats.

The monastery of Palchen chuvori was also built by Tang-tong gyal-po,
who is likewise credited with having constructed eight chain bridges
over the Tsang-po, 108 temples, and 108 chorten on the hills of Chung
Rivoche, in Ulterior Tibet, and of Palchen chuvori, in Central Tibet,
or U. The Palchen chuvori monastery, where there are upwards of one
hundred monks, is supported by the toll collected at the ferry.

We and our ponies crossed the river in a roughly made boat about 20
feet long, but a number of skin coracles were also carrying travellers
and freight from one side to the other. It was sunset when we reached
the village of Jim-khar, belonging to the Namgyal Ta-tsan, the great
monastic establishment of Potala at Lhasa. Here we obtained lodgings
for the night in the sheepfold attached to the house of the headman, or
gyan-po. All the members of the gyan-po’s family were ill with
small-pox, and he himself had but recently recovered from it. It began
to rain shortly after our arrival, and what with the leaks in the roof
and the noise made by nine ponies tied up near us, we passed a
miserable night, and were glad to resume our journey at the first
streak of dawn. After proceeding some distance we came in sight of the
ruins of Chu-shul djong, on a ledge of rocks about a mile from where
the Tsang-po is joined by the Kyi chu, the river of Lhasa. Some two
hundred years ago Chu-shul was a place of importance, but now it is but
a village of about sixty houses, surrounded by wide fields, where
barley, rape, buckwheat, and wheat are grown. [228]

Passing near the hamlets of Tsa-kang and Semu, the road in many places
so boggy that the ponies sank in the mire up to their knees, we came,
after about four miles, to the ruins of Tsal-pa-nang, [229] where we
overtook some of the attendants of the Lhacham on their way to Lhasa.
After conversing with them for upwards of an hour, they rode on ahead,
as they were desirous of reaching Netang by sunset; and they advised us
to put up in the Jya-khang (or Chinese post station) of the same place,
where we would find good accommodation.

Beyond Tsal-pa-nang the road led over a sandy plain, while crossing
which we scared up several rabbits (hares?). Proceeding eastward for
several miles, we came to the large village of Jang hog, or “Lower
Jang,” then to Jang toi, or “Upper Jang,” [230] where the beauty of the
country so greatly charmed me, each cluster of houses surrounded by
groves of willows and poplars, and the fields a mass of flowers, that I
called a halt, and, spreading my rug under a willow tree, we made some
tea, and my companions indulged in a good long drink of chang.

From Jang toi, following a narrow trail overhanging the Kyi chu, we
came to Nam. Beyond this little hamlet the path leads over a confused
mass of rocks and boulders along the river bank; it is called gag lam,
or “narrow road,” and a false step would throw one amidst the
quicksands on the river’s bank, or into its eddying waters. I was not
surprised to be told that the two elephants sent to the Grand Lama by
the Sikkim rajah had had great difficulty in getting by this place.
After a tedious journey of about three miles through the sand and over
the rocks, we got sight of the famous village of Netang, [231] where
the great saint and Buddhist reformer, Atisha, or Dipankara, died.

An old woman led us to the Jya khang, where we were most hospitably
received, and though there were other travellers stopping in it, we
were accommodated for the sum of a tanka in a well-ventilated outer
room, the inner ones being reserved for officials, particularly
Chinese. Netang has about forty or fifty houses, all built closely
together, but many are only miserable hovels.

May 30.—We were off at an early hour, as to-day we wanted to reach
Lhasa. The hamlets of Norbu-gang and Chumig-gang, through which we
passed, had a number of fine substantial houses belonging to civil
officers (Dung-khor) of Lhasa, and around them were gardens and groves
of trees. Leaving these places behind, we travelled for some miles over
a gravelly plain, the river some distance on our right.

When near a gigantic image of the Buddha, cut in low relief on the face
of a rock, Potala and Chagpori came in sight, their gilt domes shining
in the sun’s rays. My long-cherished wish was accomplished—Lhasa, the
sacred city, was before me.

Four miles over a fairly good road now brought us to the Ti chu zamba,
a large and handsome stone bridge about 120 paces long and eight broad,
beneath which flowed a rivulet coming from the hills to the north-west,
where stands the monastery of Tsorpu, founded by Karma Bagshi, one of
the two celebrated lamas who resided at the Imperial court of China in
the time of the Emperor Kublai.

The Ti chu zamba is in the lower part of the big village of Toilung,
around which are numerous hamlets, each amid a little grove of pollard
willows. The adjacent plain, watered as it is by the Kyi chu and the Ti
(or Toilung) chu, is extraordinarily fertile. The country around was
everywhere cultivated, and the barley, wheat, and buckwheat were in
many places already a foot high.

The road now became alive with travellers, mostly grain-dealers or
argol-carriers, on their way to the city with trains of yaks, ponies,
mules, and donkeys with jingling bells.

We halted for breakfast in a small grove in front of the village of
Shing donkar, belonging to Sa-wang Ragasha, one of the senior Shape of
Lhasa. We could hear from where we sat the voices of lamas chanting
prayers, and I learnt from an old woman who brought my men some chang,
that there were some eighteen Dabung lamas reading prayers for the
recovery from small-pox of the foreman (shinyer) of the farm.

About a mile from Sing donkar we came to Donkar, which is considered as
the first stage for persons travelling officially from Lhasa. [232]
Then we passed by Cheri, where is the city slaughter-house; and here,
strange as it may seem, the Kashmiris come to buy meat, for most of
those living at Lhasa are so lax in their observance of the Mohammedan
laws about butchering that they will eat yaks killed by Tibetans, even
though they have been put to death by wounds of arrows or knives in the
stomach.

We stopped at Daru at the foot of the hill covered by Debung and its
park, and Pador went to look up a friend whom he was desirous of
attaching to my service. After an hour’s delay he returned without
having found him, and we pushed on, passing the far-famed temple of
Nachung chos kyong, where resides the oracle by whom the Government is
guided in all important affairs. The temple is a fine edifice of dark
red colour, built after the Chinese style, and has a gilt spire
surmounting it. At this point the road nears the river, and the whole
city stood displayed before us at the end of an avenue of gnarled
trees, the rays of the setting sun falling on its gilded domes. It was
a superb sight, the like of which I have never seen. On our left was
Potala with its lofty buildings and gilt roofs; before us, surrounded
by a green meadow (maidan), lay the town with its tower-like,
whitewashed houses and Chinese buildings with roofs of blue glazed
tiles. Long festoons of inscribed and painted rags hung from one
building to another, waving in the breeze.

Beyond Daru the road lay for a while through a marsh (dam-tso)
overgrown with rank grass; numerous ditches drained the water into the
river, and at the north-east end of the marsh we could distinguish the
famous monastery of Sera. Beyond a high sand embankment on our left was
the park and palace of Norbu linga, and the beautiful grove of Kemai
tsal, in the midst of which stands the palace of Lhalu, the father of
the last Dalai lama.

At 4 p.m. we passed Kunduling, the residence of the regent, and entered
the city by the western gateway, called the Pargo kaling chorten, and
my heart leaped with exultation as I now reached the goal of my
journey—the far-famed city of Lhasa, the capital of Tibet.



CHAPTER VI.

RESIDENCE AT LHASA.


Preceded by Pador carrying his long lance and by Tsing-ta driving the
pack-pony, we entered the city. The policemen (korchagpa) [233] marked
us as new-comers, but none of them questioned us. My head drooped with
fatigue, my eyes were hidden by dark goggles, and the red pagri around
my head made me look like a Ladaki. Some people standing in front of a
Chinese pastry shop said, as I passed, “Look! there comes another sick
man; small-pox has affected his eyes. The city is full of them. What an
awful time for Tibet!”

After a few minutes’ ride we came to the Yu-tog zamba, a short stone
bridge with a gate, where a guard commanded by a lama is stationed,
which examines all passers-by to ascertain the object of their visit to
the city. To the great delight of my companions, who had been most
anxious about my getting over the bridge, we passed by without a
question being asked us.

Near the bridge I noticed the doring, [234] a monolith on which is an
inscription in Tibetan and Chinese. Though a thousand years old, the
stone has been but little affected by the weather, and the characters
can be easily read. The monolith I took to be between eight and ten
feet in height, and it stands on a low pedestal.

At the Yu-tog zamba the city proper begins. The street on both sides
was lined with native and Chinese shops; in front of each was a
pyramidal structure, where juniper spines and dried leaves obtained
from Tsari are burnt as an offering to the gods.

Coming to the street to the south of Kyil-khording, [235] we found on
either side of it Nepalese shops several stories high, also Chinese
ones, where silk fabrics, porcelain, and various kinds of brick-tea
were exposed for sale.

A lama guided us from this street to the Bangye-shag, a castle-like
building three stories high, the residence of Sawang Phala, the husband
of my protectress, the Lhacham. Leaving me at the postern gate, my two
companions went in and presented the lady with a khatag, and she
directed them to take me to Paljor rabtan, a building belonging to the
Tashi lama, where all officers and monks from Tashilhunpo find lodgings
when in Lhasa, and where we would be given accommodations.

The gateway of Paljor rabtan was about eight or nine feet high and five
feet broad, and from the lintels fluttered fringes about a foot and a
half broad. [236] Two stout flag-poles 20 to 25 feet high, carrying
inscribed banners, stood on either side of it. Ascending a steep
staircase, or rather a ladder, we came to a verandah, opposite which
was a pretty glazed house, the dwelling of the khang-nyer (or
“house-keeper”), and were soon given by him a room to lodge in, and
served with tea and chang by an old woman. From the window of our room
we could see the damra, or grove of poplars and willows in a marshy bit
of land adjacent to the Tangye-ling monastery, and further west shone
the lofty gilt spires of Potala.

May 31.—The heavy shower which had fallen last evening cleared up the
atmosphere, and the gilt domes and spires glittering in the morning sun
filled me with delight, and I had difficulty in subduing my impatience
to visit all the monuments now before me, and of which I had dreamed of
for so many years. At 7 o’clock Pador brought me a pot of tea prepared
in the house of the water-carrier; but, instead of butter, tallow had
been used in its preparation, and I could not swallow it; [237] but we
managed, after a while, to make some in our own room. Shortly after
Tsing-ta came in, bringing a pair of rugs, two cushions, and two little
tables he had borrowed at the Bangye-shag. He had also an invitation
from the Lhacham to visit her in the afternoon.

Having shaved and donned my lama costume and goggles, we started for
Bangye-shag, which was about a mile from our lodgings. Most of the
shops we saw were kept by Kashmiris, Nepalese, or Chinese; the Tibetan
ones were few and poorly supplied.

Bangye-shag is a lofty, flat-roofed stone building with two large
gateways. The ground floor is used as storerooms and quarters for the
amlas or retainers of the Phala estates. The beams, the cornices, as
also the window-frames, are painted red; a few of the windows have a
little pane of glass in them, but most of them are covered with paper.
On reaching the second floor, the Lhacham’s maids (shetama) greeted me
most kindly, and insisted on my taking a cup or two of tea, after which
they led me to her ladyship’s room, where, taking off my hat, I
presented her a visiting scarf (jadar) and a piece of gold of about a
dzo weight. [238] Making motion to one of her maids to present me a
scarf, she kindly wished me welcome (“Chyag-peb nang chig, Pundib la”),
and bade me take a seat (“Pundib la, shu dang shag, shu dang shag”).
After conversing with her a while about my recent illness, and telling
her of the kindness of the Dorje Phagmo, that merciful Lady of the Lake
to whom I owe my life, I took my leave and returned home.

June 1.—June 1 is the holiest day of the year, saga dawa, [239] the day
of the Buddha’s nirvāna, and incense was burnt on every hilltop, in
every shrine, chapel, lamasery, and house in or near Lhasa. Men, women,
and children hastened to the sacred shrine of Kyil-khording (or Jo
khang, as it is commonly called), to do puja to the Jo-vo (“Lord
Buddha”) and obtain his blessing. All carried in their hands bundles of
incense-sticks, bowls of butter, and khatag of all sizes and qualities.
Our fellow-lodgers went with the rest, calling at my room on the way
out, and in a short time we also joined the crowd.

A broad street runs in front of the Jo khang, and the road which comes
from the Pargo kaling gate terminates on its western face, and here
grows a tall poplar said to have sprung from the hair of the Buddha.
Beside this is the ancient stone tablet erected by the Tibetans in the
ninth century to commemorate their victory over the Chinese, and which
gives the text of the treaty then concluded between the Emperor of
China and King Ralpachan. [240]

The magnificent temple engrossed, however, all my attention. In front
of it is a tall flag-pole, at the base of which hang two yak-tails,
some inscriptions, and a number of yak- and sheep-horns. In the
propylon of the chief temple (Tsang khang), the heavy wooden pillars of
which are three to four feet in circumference, and about twelve feet
high, upwards of a hundred monks were making prostrations before the
image of the Lord (Jo-vo) on a throne facing the west. This famous
image of the Buddha, known as Jo-vo rinpoche, is said to have been made
in Magadha during the lifetime of the great teacher. [241] Visvakarma
is supposed to have made it, under the guidance of the god Indra, of an
alloy of the five precious substances, gold, silver, zinc, iron, and
copper, and the “five precious celestial substances,” probably
diamonds, rubies, lapis-lazuli, emeralds, and indranila.

The legend goes on to say that the image was in the first place sent
from India to the capital of China in return for the assistance the
Emperor had given the King of Magadha against the Yavanas from the
west. When the Princess Konjo, daughter of the Emperor Tai-tsung, was
given in marriage to the King of Tibet, she brought the image to Lhasa
as a portion of her dowry.

The image is life-size and exquisitely modelled, and represents a
handsome young prince. The crown on its head is said to be the gift of
Tsong-khapa, the great reformer. The Kunyer said that the image
represented the Buddha when at the age of twelve; hence the princely
apparel in which he is clothed and the dissimilarity of the image to
those seen elsewhere. [242] On the four sides of it were gilt pillars
with dragons twined around them, supporting a canopy. On one side of
the image of the Buddha is that of Maitreya, and on the other that of
Dipankara Buddha. [243] Behind this, again, is the image of the Buddha
Gang-chan wogyal, and to the right and left of the latter those of the
twelve chief disciples of the Buddha.

We were also shown the image of the great reformer, Tsong-khapa, near
which is the famous rock, called Amolonkha, discovered by Tsong-khapa.
[244] On this rock is placed the bell with a gem in the handle,
supposed to have been used by Maudgalyayana, the chief disciple of the
Buddha.

After the image of the Buddha, the most celebrated statue in this
temple is that of Avalokiteswara with the eleven faces (Shen-re-zig
chu-chig dzal). It is said that once King Srong-btsan gambo heard a
voice saying that if he made a full-sized image of Shenrezig, all his
wishes would be granted him; so he constructed this one, in the
composition of which there entered a branch of the sacred Bo tree, some
soil of an island in the great ocean, some sand from the River
Nairanjana, [245] some gosirsha sandalwood, some soil from the eight
sacred places of India, and many other rare and valuable substances.
All these were first powdered, then, having been moistened with the
milk of a red cow and a goat, made into a paste and moulded into a
statue. To give it additional sanctity, the king had a sandalwood image
of the god brought from Ceylon put inside of it.

This statue is also known as the “five self-created” (nya rang chyung);
for the Nepalese sculptor who made it said that it had sprung into
shape rather than had been moulded by him, and it is further said that
the souls of King Srong-btsan gambo and his consorts were absorbed in
it. It occupies the northern chapel in the temple, and is surrounded by
the images of a number of gods and goddesses.

In the outer courtyard of the temple is a row of statues, among which
is that of King Srong-btsan gambo and various saints and Pundits. On
the porch of the Tsang-khang are images of the Buddhas of the past,
present, and future. Innumerable other highly interesting images and
votive offerings were shown us, among which I will mention a hundred
and eight lamps made out of stone under Tsong-khapa’s directions.

Among the other objects of interest shown us was a stone slab (Padma
pung-pa) which King Srong-btsan gambo and his wives were wont to use as
a seat when taking their baths, and a life-size statue of Tsong-khapa
surrounded by images of gods, saints, and worthies. In the room where
these statues are seen, and which is closed by a wire lattice, is also
a famous image of the god Chyag-na dorje (Vajrapani). When the
iconoclast King Langdarma [246] began persecuting Buddhism, he ordered
this image to be destroyed. A valet tied a rope around its neck to drag
it from the temple, but he suddenly became insane, and died vomiting
blood, and the image was left undisturbed.

In the outer court, or khyamra, [247] is the image of the god Tovo
Metsig-pa, [248] by whose power the invading armies of China were
routed in the war which immediately followed the death of King
Srong-btsan gambo. Near it are statues of the king and his two
consorts, and some huge yak-horns, of which the following anecdote is
told to inquisitive pilgrims by the temple servants (kunyer).
Ra-chung-pa, a disciple of the great saint Milarapa, [249] had been to
India, and had there studied under the most learned masters all the
mysteries of the faith, and had returned to Tibet filled with pride
over his knowledge. Travelling to Lhasa with his master, they reached
the middle of the desert called Palmoi-paltang, when Milarapa, who knew
of the conceit of his disciple and wished to teach him a lesson,
ordered him to fetch him a pair of yak horns lying near by. But
Ra-chung-pa said to himself, “The master wants everything he sees.
Sometimes he is as fretful as an old dog, at others as full of childish
fancies as an old man in his dotage. Of what possible use can the horns
be to him; he can neither use them for food, drink, nor clothing?” Then
he asked the sage what he proposed doing with them. “Though it is not
possible to say what may occur,” replied Milarapa, “they will certainly
be of use some time or other;” and he picked them up himself and
carried them along.

After a while a violent hailstorm overtook the travellers, and there
was not so much as a rat-hole in which they could find shelter.
Ra-chung-pa covered his head with his gown, and sat on the ground till
the storm had passed by. When he searched for the lama, he could see
him nowhere; but he heard a voice, and, looking about, lo! there was
Milarapa seated inside one of the horns. “If the son is the equal of
the father, then,” said the saint, “let him seat himself inside the
other horn;” but it was too small to even serve Ra-chung-pa for a hat.
Then Milarapa came out of the horn, and Ra-chung-pa carried them to
Lhasa, and presented them to the Jo-vo. [250]

After visiting all the ground floor we climbed up to the second and
third stories, where we were shown a number of other images, among
which I noticed that of Paldan lhamo. By the time we had seen all the
images we had exhausted our supply of butter, for Pador had put a
little in every lamp lighted that day in the chapels. Those before the
image of the Jo-vo were of gold, and each must have held ten or twelve
pounds of butter.

By the time we reached our lodgings I was completely worn out, and
passed the rest of the day in my rooms or on the housetop, the view
from which always charmed me, especially when the rays of the setting
sun shone brightly on the gilded domes of the temples and palaces.

I was much troubled in my mind by hearing from Tsing-ta that small-pox
was raging in town, even the keeper of our house, his wife and
children, were down with the disease, and in every dwelling in the
neighbourhood some one was ill with it.

On the following morning (June 2), after an early breakfast, I went to
visit the famous shrine of Ramoche, [251] carrying, as on the previous
day, a bundle of incense-sticks, some butter and khatags. We took a
horribly muddy lane, where heaps of filth emitted a most offensive
odour; then, turning northward, we crossed the Potala road at the
north-west corner of the Tomse-gang, as the Kyil-khording square is
commonly called, and passed by the lofty Wangdu chorten, which was
built to bring under the power (wang, “power;” du, “to subjugate”) of
Tibet all the neighbouring nations. This spot is also called Gya-bum
gang, for it is said that once during the Ming dynasty of China 100,000
(gya-bum) Chinese troops camped (gang) on the plain to the north of
this chorten. Other accounts explain this name by saying that in the
war with China, after the death of King Srong-btsan gambo, 100,000
Chinamen were killed in a battle near this spot. [252]

A few hundred paces beyond this place we reached the gate of Ramoche,
the famous temple erected by the illustrious Konjo, [253] daughter of
the Emperor Tai-tsung, and wife of King Srong-btsan gambo. It is a
flat-roofed edifice three stories high, and has a wide portico. At the
front of the building there is to be seen a very ancient inscription in
Chinese, giving probably the history of the building of the temple. The
image of Mikyod dorje (Vajra Akshobhya), brought here by King
Srong-btsan’s second wife, a Nepalese princess, is of undoubted
antiquity, even though the face of the statue is covered with gilding.

In the northern lobby are heaps of relics—shields, spears, drums,
arrows, swords, and trumpets, and in a room to the left of the
entrance, and shut in by an iron lattice, are a few very holy images.
With the exception of a very small gilt dome built in Chinese style, I
saw nothing strongly indicative of that description of architecture,
and, taking it all together, Ramoche fell far short of the preconceived
idea I had formed of it. [254]

Lay monks, or Serkempa, usually perform the services held at Ramoche,
and half a dozen of them and a kunyer (sexton) live in the upper
stories of the temple.

As we left the temple we were met by a party of singing beggars, who
followed us to our house clamouring for solra, or alms; finally we sent
them off with a karma, or the value of two annas. Had we given more we
would have been persecuted by numerous other parties of these pests.

June 3.—A lama of Khams, whom I had met at Tashilhunpo, came to see me
to-day. He told me that he was waiting for nine loads of silver from
Tashilhunpo, on the arrival of which he would leave for Western China,
coming back to Lhasa next March or April. I had heard at Tashilhunpo
that he had a caravan of 700 mules, and carried on trade between
Darchendo [255] and Lhasa. This Pomda [256] lama was a man of gigantic
stature, something over six feet, well proportioned, and of great
strength; he was well known to brigands, and none dared molest him. My
further acquaintance with him confirmed me in the opinion I had formed
of the Khambas. Though they are wild, they are devoted friends, and
when once one becomes intimate with one of them, he will be faithful to
the end.

I heard to-day the following story about the famous Regent Tsomoling
and his social reforms: Once there came to Lhasa a lama pilgrim from
Tsoni, in Amdo, [257] and he was admitted into the Sera convent, where
he studied under a learned Mongol lama. After a few years the Amdo
lama’s tutor returned to his home, and on parting he left his pupil a
couple of earthen pots, a khatag, and a bag of barley, the most
valuable things he possessed, as he told him. The pupil, disappointed
with these gifts, carried the pots to the market and sold them for half
a tanka, with which he bought butter that he put in the lamps burning
before the great image of the lord (Jo-vo), praying that if he ever
became Regent of Tibet, he might be able to reform the social customs
of the country.

In the course of time he rose to the dignity of a teacher in his
convent; then he became its abbot, or khanpo; and finally he rose to
the rank of regent. One of the first acts of his administration was to
expel all public women from Lhasa, and to compel all women to cover
their faces with a coating of catechu, so as to hide their comeliness
from the public view. [258] Women were also made to wear a bangle cut
out of a conch-shell on their right wrist, by which they could be held
when arrested. From his time also dates the use by women of aprons
(pang-den) and of the present style of headdress, or patug. The old
style of patug is now only worn by the wives (or Lhacham) of the Shape
(ministers). He was the first of the Tsomoling lamas, and his
reincarnations still inhabit the lamasery of that name behind Ramoche.

On June 4 I again visited the Jo khang. [259] After paying reverence to
the Jo-vo and circumambulating his sacred throne, the kunyer poured
some holy water (tu) into my hand from a golden vessel. In a little
chorten in one of the chapels on the south side of the temple is kept a
statue of red bell-metal, or li-mar, made, so says tradition, in the
days of King Kriki, when men lived 20,000 years. For many centuries it
was kept by the kings of Nepal; but when a princess from that country
married King Srong-btsan gambo, she brought it to Tibet, and placed it
in this temple, where it is the object of constant worship.

But perhaps the most revered of all the images in the Jo khang,
exclusive of that of the Jo, is that of Paldan lhamo (Srimati devi).
The terrifying face of the goddess is kept veiled, but the kunyer
uncovered it for us. This terrific goddess is regarded as the guardian
of the Dalai and Tashi lamas. The chestnut-coloured mule she rides, the
offspring of a red ass and a winged mare, was given her by the goddess
of the sea. The saddle she sits on is the skin of an ogre, and the
bridle and crupper are vipers. Kya dorje gave her dice with which to
play for lives, and the ogres, or Srinpo, presented her a string of
skulls, which she holds in her left hand, and the goblins that haunt
graveyards gave her corpses, on which she feeds. In her right hand she
holds a club given her by the god Chyagna-dorje. ’Twas in such fearful
attire that she waged war against the foes of Buddhism, and became the
greatest of all its guardian deities.

The chapel of Paldan lhamo is overrun by mice, so tame that they
crawled up the kunyer’s body. They are supposed to have been lamas in
former existences. On one of the walls we saw a painting made with the
blood of King Srong-btsan.

As we were walking home I saw some men hawking books, and told them
what works I would buy if they could but procure them for me. They
promised to bring them to me shortly.

The excellent brick-tea (du tang-nyipa) which I had brought from
Tashilhunpo was now exhausted, and I was reduced to drinking a
miserable quality known as gya-pa. Du tang, or first-quality tea, is
more highly flavoured than the quality I liked, but it was too strong
for me.

Tea was introduced into Tibet earlier than the tenth century, but it
only became of universal use from the time of the Sakya hierarchy and
the Phagmodu kings. [260] During the early part of the Dalai lama’s
rule the tea trade was a governmental monopoly, and since the beginning
of the present century, though nominally open to every one, the trade
is practically in the hands of the officials.

Some notes on the mode of selection of incarnate lamas may not be out
of place here. It used to be customary when selecting incarnate lamas
to either decide by throwing dice or by some other trial of luck, or by
taking the opinion of the College of Cardinals; but that method not
giving perfect satisfaction, it was decided that the candidates should
undergo certain examinations, which, together with the hints thrown out
from time to time by the defunct incarnation as to where and when his
successor would be found, helped in the determination of the lawful
reincarnation.

From the middle of the seventeenth century down to 1860, when the Dalai
lama, Tinle-gyatso, was chosen, the rightful reincarnation of a defunct
saint was found out by the use of the golden jar, or ser-bum. [261]

Three years after the death of an incarnate lama the names of the
different children, who it was claimed were his reincarnation, were
taken down. These names, in the case of the Dalai or Tashi lamas, were
sent to the regent for examination, after which the president of the
conclave, in the presence of the Regent and the ministers, enclosed in
tsamba balls slips of paper, on each of which was written the name of a
candidate. In other tsamba balls were slips on which was written “yes”
or “no,” as well as some blank slips. All these were put together in a
golden jar, which was placed on the altar of the principal chapel of
Lhasa, and for a week the gods were invoked. On the eighth day the jar
was twirled round a certain number of times, and the name which fell
out three times, together with a pellet in which was a slip inscribed
“yes,” was declared the true reincarnation. Those who were sent to
bring the reincarnated saint to Lhasa or Tashilhunpo submitted him to
certain trials; as, for example, picking out from a number of similar
objects the rosary, the rings, cup, and mitre of the deceased lama.
[262]

In 1875, a year after the death of the Dalai lama Tinle-gyatso, the
regent and the College of Cardinals consulted the celebrated Nachung
Chos-gyong oracle [263] about the Dalai’s reappearance, and the oracle
declared that the reincarnation could only be discovered by a monk of
the purest morals. It required, again, the supernatural powers of the
oracle to find the future discoverer of the Grand Lama; he was the
Shar-tse Khanpo of Gadan, a lama of great saintliness and profound
knowledge. The oracle further stated that he should go to Choskhor-gya,
as the reincarnation was to be found somewhere near Kong-po. [264] The
Khanpo went there accordingly, and sat in deep meditation for seven
days, when, on the night of the last day, he had a vision and heard a
voice which directed him to repair to the Mu-li-ding-ki tso (lake) of
Choskhor. Awakening from his sleep, the Khanpo went to the lake, where,
on the crystal surface of the water, he saw the image of the incarnate
Grand Lama seated in his mother’s lap, and his father fondling him. The
house, its furniture, all was shown him. Suddenly the image
disappeared, and he set out at once for Kong-po. On the way he stopped
in Tag-po at the house of a respectable and wealthy family, and at once
he recognized the child and all the images seen in his dream. He
promptly informed the Government at Lhasa, and the regent and the
cardinals came to Tag-po and took the child, then a year old, and its
parents to the Rigyal palace, near Lhasa. This child, now aged ten, is
called Nag-wang lo-zang tubdan gya-tso “the Lord of speech, the mighty
ocean of wisdom.” [265]

The reason why the golden jar was not used for finding this
reincarnation was because of the apprehension that the Dayan Khanpo’s
spirit—he had but recently died, and had been violently opposed to the
Dalai lamas and their form of government—might be able to cause a wrong
name to be drawn from the jar.

June 5.—Early this morning I was invited to dine with the Lhacham at
Bangye-shag. I was received most graciously, and was led by the Lhacham
to her drawing-room, a room about 16 feet by 12, facing the south and
on the third story of the building. There were in it two Chinese chests
of drawers, on top of which were a lot of porcelain cups; Chinese
pictures—picnics and dancing most of them represented—covered the
greater part of the walls; the ceiling was of Chinese satin, and thick
rugs of Yarkand and Tibetan make covered the floor. Well-polished
little tables, wooden bowls for tsamba, and some satin-covered cushions
completed the furniture of the room.

After conversing for a while and drinking a few cups of tea, the
Lhacham withdrew, and one of her maids showed me the rooms in the
mansion. The furniture was much the same as that in the Lhacham’s room,
only of inferior quality and ruder make. The walls were painted green
and blue, with here and there pictures of processions of gods and
demons, and the beams of the ceiling were carved and painted. The doors
were very roughly made and without panels; the windows were covered
with paper, with a very small pane of glass fitted in the middle of
each. There were no chimneys in any of the rooms, but earthenware
stoves, or jala. In a few of the rooms flowers were growing in pots.

Returning to the Lhacham’s room, dinner was served me at noon, and
while I ate she asked me many questions concerning the marriage laws of
India and Europe. When I told her that in India a husband had several
wives, and that among the Phyling [266] a man had but one wife, she
stared at me with undisguised astonishment. “One wife with one
husband!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you think we Tibetan women are better
off? The Indian wife has but a portion of her husband’s affections and
property, but in Tibet the housewife is the real lady of all the joint
earnings and inheritance of all the brothers sprung from the same
mother, who are all of the same flesh and blood. The brothers are but
one, though their souls are several. In India a man marries well
several women who are strangers to each other.” “Am I to understand
that your ladyship would like to see several sisters marry one
husband?” I asked. “That is not the point,” replied the Lhacham. “What
I contend is that Tibetan women are happier than Indian ones, for they
enjoy the privileges conceded in the latter country to the men.” [267]

June 7.—My two men had heard from Gadan Tipa, a soothsayer, that they
would be stricken with small-pox if they ventured to go to Samye, and
they besought me to give up the idea; but I declared emphatically my
resolve to visit that famous lamasery, and also that of Gadan.

On June 8 I again visited the Jo khang. The numerous wooden pillars
supporting the second story are among the most remarkable things in
this temple. The largest of these have capitals with sculptured
foliage, and are called ka-wa shing-lho chan. [268] At their base are
buried, it is said, great treasures of gold and silver. Other pillars,
with dragon-heads as capitals, have hidden under them charms against
devils, for curing diseases, and for keeping off and thwarting the evil
designs of the enemies of Buddhism and of the government of the church.
Other pillars, again, called seng go-chan, “having lions’ heads as
capitals,” have concealed under them many potent charms (yang-yig)
[269] to insure bounteous crops.

Under the floor of the Lu-khang are many charms and precious things
wrapped in snow-fox or snake-skin. These, it is supposed, preserve the
flocks and herds of Tibet. Beneath the image of Dsambhala is hidden in
an onyx box some tag-sha, [270] which preserves the precious stones,
the wool, the grain, and the other riches of the country.

Among the other objects of special sanctity, I was shown in the passage
for circumambulating the temple a cavity in the rock where neither moss
nor grass grow; it is said to keep back the waters of the Kyi chu from
invading the Jo khang. [271]

June 9.—I went out walking to-day in the direction of Ramoche. On the
streets I met numerous bands of ragyabas, or scavengers, wandering from
place to place, clamouring for alms from every new-comer or pilgrim
they saw. If no attention is paid to them, they thrust their dirty hats
in the stranger’s face and lavish insults on him; and if he take
offence, they reply, “Why, my lord, this is not insolence; we are but
saluting you!”

These ragyabas of Lhasa form a guild. Persons convicted of any crime,
or vagabonds, are usually sent back to their native villages, there to
work out their sentence; but when the authorities cannot learn whence
they come, they are handed over to the chief of the ragyabas, who
receives them into his guild. Besides begging, the ragyabas cut up the
corpses which are brought to the two cemeteries of Lhasa, near which
they live, and feed them to vultures and dogs. A ragyaba may not show
his wealth, however great it be; the walls of their houses must be made
with horns of sheep, goats, or yaks, the convex sides turned upwards.
[272]

At present the chief of the ragyabas is a man of about fifty years,
called Abula; he wears a red serge gown and a yellow turban. Cursed is
the lot of the ragyabas, and twice cursed is Abula, if a day passes
without a corpse being brought to the cemetery; for people believe that
if a day passes without a death it portends evil to Lhasa.

In connection with the erection of Ramoche, it is said that the
princess who had it built discovered that the spot on which the temple
was erected was in communication with hell, and that there was a
crystal palace inhabited by the Nagas deep in the earth underneath this
place. [273]

Among the most remarkable relics preserved in this temple, and which I
had not had time to examine on my first rather hurried visit, I now
noticed one of Dolma [274] made of turquoise, and which is said to
render oracles, one of Tse-pa-med [275] made of coral, and one of
Rin-chen Khadoma [276] in amber, and a number of others of jade,
conch-shells and mumen, [277] besides many jars and bowls of jade and
gold.

In the afternoon I called on the Lhacham, and was sorry to learn that
her second son had small-pox. I told her how disappointed I was at not
having been able to get even a glimpse of the Kyabgong, the “lord
protector” of Tibet, the Dalai lama. “Alas!” I added, “I have not
acquired a sufficient moral merit in former existences to be able to
see Shenrezig in flesh and blood!”

“Do not be cast down, Pundib la; though it is not an easy matter for
even the Shape and nobles of Tibet to see the Dalai lama, I will
arrange an audience for you.” [278]

Early the next day a gentleman (ku-dag), who was a Dungkhor of Potala,
called on me, and said that the Kusho Lhacham of Phala had arranged
with the Donyer chenpo of Potala for an audience for me with the Dalai
lama, and that I must get ready as soon as possible.

Swallowing breakfast as quickly as possible, I put on my best clothes,
and had hardly finished when the Dungkhor Chola Kusho, accompanied by a
servant, arrived. Having provided myself with three bundles of
incense-sticks and a roll of khatag, we mounted our ponies and sallied
forth. As we crossed the doorway we saw a calf sucking, and several
women carrying water. My companions smiled, and Chola Kusho remarked
that I was a lucky man, as these were most auspicious signs. [279]

Arriving at the eastern gateway of Potala, we dismounted and walked
through a long hall, on either side of which were rows of
prayer-wheels, which every passer-by put in motion. Then, ascending
three long flights of stone steps, we left our ponies in care of a
bystander—for no one may ride further—and proceeded towards the palace
under the guidance of a young monk. We had to climb up five ladders
before we reached the ground floor of Phodang marpo, [280] or “the Red
palace,” thus called from the exterior walls being of a dark red
colour. Then we had half a dozen more ladders to climb up, and we found
ourselves at the top of Potala (there are nine stories to this
building), where we saw a number of monks awaiting an audience. The
view from here was beautiful beyond compare: the broad valley of the
Kyi chu, in the centre of which stands the great city surrounded by
green groves; the gilt spires of the Jo-khang and the other temples of
Lhasa, and farther away the great monasteries of Sera and Dabung,
behind which rose the dark blue mountains.

After a while three lamas appeared, and said that the Dalai lama would
presently conduct a memorial service for the benefit of the late Meru
Ta lama (great lama of Meru gomba), and that we were allowed to be
present at it. Walking very softly, we came to the middle of the
reception hall, the roof of which is supported by three rows of
pillars, four in each row, and where light is admitted by a skylight.
The furniture was that generally seen in lamaseries, but the hangings
were of the richest brocades and cloths of gold; the church utensils
were of gold, and the frescoing on the walls of exquisite fineness.
Behind the throne were beautiful tapestries and satin hangings forming
a great gyal-tsan, or canopy. The floor was beautifully smooth and
glossy, but the doors and windows, which were painted red, were of the
rough description common throughout the country.

A Donyer approached, who took our presentation khatag, but I held back,
at the suggestion of Chola Kusho, the present I had for the Grand Lama;
and when I approached him I placed in his lap, much to the surprise of
all present, a piece of gold weighing a tola. We then took our seats on
rugs, of which there were eight rows; ours were in the third, and about
ten feet from the Grand Lama’s throne, and a little to his left.

The Grand Lama is a child of eight with a bright and fair complexion
and rosy cheeks. [281] His eyes are large and penetrating, the shape of
his face remarkably Aryan, though somewhat marred by the obliquity of
his eyes. The thinness of his person was probably due to the fatigue of
the Court ceremonies and to the religious duties and ascetic observance
of his estate. A yellow mitre covered his head, and its pendant lappets
hid his ears; a yellow mantle draped his person, and he sat
cross-legged with joined palms. The throne on which he sat was
supported by carved lions, and covered with silk scarfs. It was about
four feet high, six feet long, and four feet broad. The State officers
moved about with becoming gravity: there was the Kuchar Khanpo, with a
bowl of holy water (tu), coloured yellow with saffron; [282] the
Censor-carrier, with a golden censor with three chains; the Solpon
chenpo, with a golden teapot; and other household officials. Two gold
lamps, made in the shape of flower vases, burnt on either side of the
throne.

When all had been blessed and taken seats, the Solpon chenpo poured tea
in his Holiness’s golden cup, and four assistants served the people
present. [283] Then grace was said, beginning with Om, Ah, Hum, thrice
repeated, and followed by, “Never losing sight even for a moment of the
Three Holies, making reverence ever to the Three Precious Ones. Let the
blessing of the Three Konchog be upon us,” etc. Then we silently raised
our cups and drank the tea, which was most deliciously perfumed. In
this manner we drank three cupfuls, and then put our bowls back in the
bosoms of our gowns.

After this the Solpon chenpo put a golden dish full of rice before the
Dalai lama, and he touched it, and then it was divided among those
present; then grace was again said, and his Holiness, in a low,
indistinct tone, chanted a hymn, which was repeated by the assembled
lamas in deep, grave tones. When this was over, a venerable man rose
from the first row of seats and made a short address, reciting the many
acts of mercy the Dalai lamas had vouchsafed Tibet, at the conclusion
of which he presented to his Holiness a number of valuable things; then
he made three prostrations and withdrew, followed by all of us.

As I was leaving, one of the Donyer chenpo’s (or chamberlain)
assistants gave me two packets of blessed pills, and another tied a
scrap of red silk round my neck—these are the usual return presents the
Grand Lama makes to pilgrims.

As we were going out of the hall, we were met by Chola Kusho’s younger
brother, a monk in Namgyal Ta-tsan, the monastery of the palace, and in
his and his brother’s company I visited the palace, and learnt from
them much relating to the history and the traditions of the place.

We first visited a chapel where is an image of Shenrezig with eleven
heads and a thousand arms, an eye in the palm of each of his hands.
Near it is an image with four arms, also many small gold chorten and
objects in bronze. Next I was led to a hall where there is an old
throne, opposite which are images of King Srong-btsan, his two
consorts, his minister Tonmi Sambhota, General Gar, and Prince Gungri
gung-btsan. [284] Leaving this room, we went to the great hall where
Nag-wang lob-zang, the fifth Dalai lama, used to hold his court. Old
paintings, supposed to be indestructible by fire, representing King
Srong-btsan’s family, Shenrezig, and the first Grand Lama, hung from
the pillars, and several images, among which one of sandalwood
representing Gon-po, [285] may be seen here.

We were then led to the hall where the Desi Sangye-gyatso used to hold
his councils. [286] Here also is the tomb of the first Dalai lama. It
is two-storied, and the dome is covered with thin plates of gold. The
Dalai’s remains are entombed with many precious things, and the
sepulchre is ornamented with various objects of the richest designs and
most costly materials brought hither by devotees. This tomb is called
the Dsamling gyan, [287] and is the prototype of the tombs we saw
around it containing the remains of the other incarnations of the Dalai
lama; but these are all smaller than it.

After visiting these halls we descended to the Namgyal Ta-tsan. The
architecture of the Phodang marpo embarrassed me greatly, the halls and
rooms being piled up story on story. The stonework was beautiful, but
it is so poorly drained that in many places the odours are stifling.

Entering a small room, the cell of our guide, we were given seats and
served with tea and a collation. Shortly after we started home, having
expressed in the warmest terms our thanks to Chola Kusho and his
brother for their kindness. We followed the ling-khor, as the road
which encircles Lhasa is called. On the way we passed a small grove
where is the elephant-shed, the solitary occupant of which—a present
from the Rajah of Sikkim—was standing in a barley patch near by.
Further on we came to a place where the corpses of the townspeople are
fed to pigs, whose flesh, by the way, is said to be delicious. Near
here are numerous huts of Ragyabas.

In the evening a drove of donkeys loaded with tsamba and butter arrived
from Gyantse, and I was distressed to learn that my friend the minister
had small-pox. My men again began pestering me to return to Tsang,
alleging as a pretext that I might be of assistance to the minister,
and I finally prepared to go to him, especially as the donkey-men said
he had expressed a desire to have me near him.

On June 11 I went to see the Lhacham, thanked her for having obtained
for me an audience of the Kyab-gong Rinpoche, and spoke to her about my
intention of setting out for Dongtse. She advised me to leave at once,
as small-pox was raging at Lhasa; her two sons now had it, and from her
appearance I feared that she was about to fall ill of the same disease.

Returning to our lodgings, I despatched Tsing-ta to her to ask a loan
of 200 tankas. The sum was brought me in the evening by her maid Apela,
and the Lhacham also sent me provisions for the journey and feed for
the ponies.



CHAPTER VII.

GOVERNMENT OF LHASA—CUSTOMS, FESTIVALS, ETC.


The Dalai lama’s [288] position resembles that held until lately by the
Pope in the Christian world. He is believed by the Northern Buddhists
to be the Buddha’s Vice-regent incarnate on earth, and the spiritual
protector of Tibet. He is known as Tug-je chenpo Shenrezig, or the Most
merciful Avalokiteswara. He never dies, though at times, displeased
with the sinfulness of the world, he retires to the paradise of Gadan,
[289] leaving his mortal body on earth. The ancient records of Tibet
say that he has only appeared on earth fourteen times in the eighteen
centuries from the time of the Buddha’s death to the beginning of the
fifteenth century.

In the year 1474 Gedun-gyatso was born, an embodiment of Gedun-dub, who
was an incarnation of Shenrezig, and the founder of the famous lamasery
of Tashilhunpo. [290] Gedun-gyatso was elected head lama of Tashilhunpo
in 1512, which office he resigned to fill the same position in Dabung,
the chief lamasery of Lhasa. He had built at this latter place the
Gadan phodang of Dabung, which since then has been famed as the
principal seat of Buddhist learning. [291] He was the first of the line
of Dalai lamas.

His successor was Sonam-gyatso. He was invited to Mongolia by the
famous conqueror Altan Khan, and on his arrival at the latter’s camp
the Khan addressed him in Mongol by the name of Dalai lama, the Tibetan
word gyatso, “ocean” being the equivalent of dalai in Mongol. Altan,
knowing that the lama’s predecessor had also the word gyatso in his
name, took it for a family name; and this mistake has been the origin
of the name of Dalai lama since given to all the reincarnations of the
Grand Lama.

In 1642 Kushi Khan conquered Tibet, and made over the sovereignty of
the central portion of it to the fifth Dalai lama, Nagwang
lozang-gyatso, and that of Tsang, or Ulterior Tibet, to the Grand Lama
of Tashilhunpo, though he continued himself to be the de facto
sovereign, appointing Sonam chuphel as Desi, or Governor, of Central,
and another as administrator of Ulterior Tibet. The spiritual
government remained, however, in the Dalai lama’s hands, and he
conferred on Kushi Khan the title of Tandjin chos-gyi Gyalbo, “the most
Catholic king.”

In 1645 the Dalai lama erected the palace of Potala, Kushi Khan having
his residence in the Gadan khangsar palace in Lhasa itself. Engrossed
with extending and consolidating his newly acquired kingdom, he had,
little by little, to transfer to the Dalai lama and the Desi most of
his authority over Tibet. In 1654 Kushi Khan died, and the Desi Sonam
chuphel followed him shortly to the grave. By this time so much of the
temporal authority had devolved on the Dalai lama, that, from the time
of the death of Kushi till his successor Dayan arrived in Lhasa in
1660—even though for a year (1658–1659) there was no Desi—the country
enjoyed peace and prosperity under his rule.

During Dayan Khan’s reign, which only lasted eight years, a Mongol
chief, Jaisang Teba, was Desi of Tibet, and the Desi who succeeded him
was appointed by the Dalai lama himself.

The successor of Dayan was Ratna-talai Khan, but by this time the
management of State affairs had entirely passed into the hands of the
Grand Lama. In 1680 he appointed Sangye-gyatso Desi, and conferred on
him such authority that, under the title of Governor-Treasurer
(Sa-kyong-wai chyag-dso), he was in reality King of Tibet. He
remodelled the Government, and introduced many useful reforms in every
branch of the public service.

The Desi is commonly called “regent” (gyal-tsab), or “king” (gyalbo).
[292] The office is now elective, but no layman may hold it; it is
filled by a lama from one of the four great lings, Tangye ling, Kundu
ling, Tse-chog ling, and Tsomo ling; though there have been cases, as,
for instance, that of the Desi Shata (or Shadra), where lamas from
other places have been selected. [293]

The council of ministers (Kalon) and the Prime Minister (Chyi-kyab
khanpo [294]) select the regent, and their choice is confirmed by the
oracles of Nachung chos-gyong and Lhamo sung chyong-ma; and, lastly,
the nomination is ratified by the Emperor of China.

When the Dalai lama reaches his majority, fixed at eighteen years, the
regent, in the presence of the Kalon, the chiefs and nobles, presents
him with the seals of office of both spiritual and temporal affairs.
Since the beginning of the present century no Dalai lama has reached
majority, and the regency has been without interruption. [295]

The regent is assisted by a Chasag, whose appointment is also subject
to confirmation by the Emperor of China. He wields great power, and
sometimes exercises the functions of the regent himself. No petitions
on any official business can reach the regent without passing through
his hands. He is entrusted with the great seal, and when a paper has
been prepared by the chief secretary, or Kadung, the Chasag affixes the
seal to it. The word Chasag means “a strainer for tea,” the dignitary
so designated being the test and model of merit. [296]

The council of ministers, or Kalon shag lengya, is composed of four
laymen and one monk, all of them appointed for life. Formerly there
were only four Kalon, but of late the preponderating influence of the
clergy has forced the Grand Lama to put in the council one of its
members, and he takes the first seat in the council hall, or kashag,
the Kalon kripa coming next to him. The council sits daily from nine to
two, and transacts the political, judicial, and administrative work of
the Government. It hears appeals from the Djongpon, or from the Court
of the Timpon of Lhasa, known as “the black court” (Nagtsa-shar). [297]
The ministers sit cross-legged on thick cushions placed on raised
seats, with a bowl of tea on a little table in front of each of them,
which is kept full by the Court Solpon. The secretaries and clerks
occupy adjoining rooms. The ministers and all the officers of their
court are provided with dinner at the expense of the State.

Estates (or Lonshi) are set apart for the maintenance of the ministers,
who receive no other salary. They are not allowed the privilege of
being carried in sedan chairs (pheb-chyam), the Amban, the Dalai, the
Panchen lamas, and on certain occasions the regent, being alone
permitted to use this conveyance. The Kalon dress in yellow tunics, and
wear Mongol hats with a coral button on top. [298]

When the office of a Kalon becomes vacant, the regent, in consultation
with the other Kalon, selects two or three generals (Dahpon), and sends
their names to the oracles of Nachung and Lhamo sung-chyong-ma of
Potala for them to pronounce upon. The person approved of by the
oracles is appointed.

In literary style the ministers are called Chying-sang or Dun-na-dun,
but colloquially they are known as Kalon or Shape, and the title of
Sa-wang (“power of the land”) is usually affixed to their names, as
they are selected from among the wealthy and powerful nobles. When
sitting in a judicial capacity they are known as Shalchepa, and
Shulenpa when they perform the duties of advocate.

Formerly the wives of Gyalbo and Desi were addressed by the title of
Lhacham, but nowadays it is only given to the wives of Kalon. Their
sons are called Lha-sre, or “prince.”

There are four secretaries, or Kadung, chosen from among the Dungkhor,
and one chief clerk, or Kabshopa, attached to the Kalon’s court. Under
these secretaries are 175 Dungkhor, or civil officers, under the
immediate supervision of the Tsipon, or accounting officer.

The Dungkhor [299] are chosen from among the best scholars of the Yutog
school, where the sons of nobles and the leading people are educated.
They are taught accounting by serving five years in the Bureau of
Accounts, or Tsi-khang, after which they are deputed to perform various
duties, especially in connection with the treasury, and the most
experienced among them are appointed Djongpon, or prefects.

The salaries of the Dungkhor are barely sufficient for their
maintenance; but, as they belong for the most part to well-to-do
families, this question is unimportant. [300] The Dungkhor have a
peculiar way of dressing their hair, which distinguishes them from all
other officers.

Those among the sons of the wealthy and prominent people of Lhasa who,
having become members of the Church, desire to enter public life, are
trained at the Tse labdra of Potala, after which they become Tse-dung,
or monk officials. The number of these Tse-dung cannot exceed 175. In
all places of trust and responsibility there are two officers, and
sometimes more, one at least of whom is a Tse-dung. Thus, in the office
of the treasurer of Potala there are two Tse-dung and one Dungkhor; in
the Labrang treasury there are two Tse-dung and one Dungkhor, etc. The
Tse-dung are appointed to these offices for a term of three years.

The Djongpon, or prefects, are entrusted within their respective Djong
with civil and military powers; they try civil and criminal cases, and
levy taxes, the latter duty being performed under Kargya, or, as we
would say, Purwanas from the Court of Kalon. There are 53 Djong and 123
Sub-prefectures under Djongnyer.

There are two Djongpon to every Djong, [301] their authority being
equal in all respects. In military matters they are subordinate to the
generals and the Amban. They render yearly accounts to the Amban of the
military stores in their district, and have also to show their
proficiency in shooting, riding, and other athletic sports at the
annual inspection of the troops made by the Amban and the Dahpon; and
the former confers on them blue or crystal buttons, to be worn on their
official hats. [302]

The establishment of a Djongpon comprises two Dungkhor and two
storekeepers (Djong-nyer)—administering sub-districts—and a number of
under-strappers. The heads of villages (or Tsopon), the headmen (or
Mípon), the elders (or Gyanpo), all of whom are elected for a term of
years, are also under his orders.

In every Djong there are two store-houses—the kar-gya, or reserve
store, and the djong-dso, or repository of the Djong. The keys of the
former are kept by the Kalon, and it is opened only once or twice a
year. The Government sends annually a revenue officer to check the
accounts of the Djongpon and tax-collectors (Khraldupa), and to take
over the revenue collected by them. The Djongpon have, like the Kalon,
their jagirs or djong-shi for their maintenance, in lieu of salary.

The following citation, taken from a work entitled ‘Sherab dongbu,’ or
‘Bits of Wisdom,’ may prove of interest:—

“Whenever petitions or requests are made, they should be carefully
examined. Impartiality should be shown to all classes alike, to great
and small, to lamas and to laymen. Uninfluenced by gratuities or the
fear of criticism, the Djongpon should administer perfect justice.
Questions of jurisdiction, of taxes due by the misser, and of forced
labour, should be settled by the rules (tsa-tsig) of each Djong. The
villages, houses, and inhabitants should be counted and inspected
yearly, and the numbers compared with those of preceding years. He
should have returned to their houses those who have left them,
particularly misser who have been absent from their houses for not more
than five years. Servants and labourers of the Djong should not be
employed by him at his private work; the number of servants allowed him
is fixed by the tsa-tsig. He should be kind to the misser, and not
without a good cause have disputes with neighbouring Djongpon, as the
Government’s interests would thereby suffer. He should not allow the
public lands to be encroached upon, nor should tenants on them be taken
away by landholders (gerpas).

“No women should be allowed to loiter about the Djong, and the Djongpon
should carefully refrain from any flirtation. He should see to
facilitating the courier service, and he should see that no one
receives supplies for their journey unless they are bearers of
passports (lam-yig). Frontier or foreign traders who cannot show a
passport should be held, and any information he may obtain of affairs
in other quarters should be transmitted to Lhasa.” [303]

As previously mentioned, the Kalon and Djongpon exercise judicial
functions. In the case of the Sera and Dabung lamaseries, the abbots
decide all minor offences committed within the monastery limits, but
the more serious charges are committed to the court of the regent and
the Kalon. In all other lamaseries only offences against the common law
are tried by the convent authorities.

It is customary for both parties in a suit to make presents to the
judge. When the case has been examined, the judge fixes the costs
(tim-teg) to be borne in equal portions by the plaintiffs and
defendants. As a general rule, disputes are settled by the village
elders; but few lawsuits occur on the whole, for the Tibetans are a
peaceful, kind-hearted, law-abiding people, and very amenable to
reason.

The Amban, or Imperial Resident of China in Tibet, is the head of the
Tibetan army. His Chinese staff consists of an Assistant Amban, two
Laoyeh, and a paymaster (pogpon). [304] There is also one Tibetan
general, or Magpon, six Dahpon, [305] or division commanders, six Rupon
commanding regiments, and a number of subordinate officers.

The Amban is the medium of all communications between the Tibetan
Government and China. He settles all political differences between the
various states of Tibet and the Lhasa Government; he confers titles and
honours on native military officials; but he has, theoretically, no
authority in the internal administration of the country. He ordinarily
resides at Lhasa, and annually makes an inspection of the Nepalese
frontier as far as Tingri djong. Sometimes the Assistant Amban performs
this duty, and he then inspects the military stores and forces at the
different Djong.

The political relations between Tibet and China are now so intimate
that the Imperial Residency established at Lhasa in the first quarter
of the last century has converted Tibet from a protected state into a
dependency of China. The two Ambans are commanders of the militia, and
arrogate to themselves the supreme political authority of the country.
The appointment of two Ambans to watch the political interests of the
country is probably based on the principle that the one acts as a spy
on the other. This has, as in China, become a custom in Tibet.

The Ambans are the terror of the Tibetans, who abhor them from the
depth of their hearts. [306] Whenever they leave the capital on
pleasure excursions, or on inspection tours, provisions, conveyances,
and all sorts of labour are forcibly exacted from the poor villagers,
who are deprived of their ponies and yaks, which, owing to the
merciless treatment of the Ambans’ numerous retainers, die in numbers
on the road. No compensation is given them for their losses, and no
complaints are admitted by the courts of justice, presided over by the
lamas, against this kind of oppression. Tsamba and sheep are also on
these occasions taken away by force from the people, who, unable to
bear the oppression, not unfrequently rise in a body against the
Ambans’ retainers, when matters are settled by the district Djongpon,
who are generally the creatures of the Ambans. Nor is this all. Every
Chinese or Manchu soldier or merchant who enters Tibet, whether in a
public or private capacity, is provided with a pass from Peking, which
facilitates his journey and brings him safe to his destination free of
charge. [307] The same is the case with those who leave Tibet for
China, the Ambans being the only officials qualified to grant
passports. The happy traveller, armed with the Ambans’ authority, takes
every advantage of his pass, and never fails to use his whip freely
when the villagers delay in complying with his requisitions.

One of the Ambans at least is required to pay a visit to the Tashi lama
once a year, to confer with him on State affairs, when, as the
representative of the Emperor of China, he is received with the highest
marks of distinction. The Amban is required to make a low salutation
with joined palms, and as he approaches the throne he presents a khatag
to the lama. The Tashi lama, on his side, blesses him by touching his
head with his open hand, and seats him on his right on a State cushion.
After a short interchange of compliments the conversation turns on the
health of the Emperor, the happiness of the people, and the prospects
of the year’s crops. Interpreters who understand the Mongol, Manchu,
and Chinese languages always accompany the Amban, and the Tashi lama
has also his interpreters. When the Amban appears abroad he is carried
in a yellow chair, and attended by a numerous retinue bearing the
insignia of his high office.

Of the Dahpon, two are stationed at Lhasa, two at Shigatse, one at
Gyantse, and one at Tingri djong. Three of the six Rüpon belong to
Central Tibet, and three to Ulterior.

The regular army consists of 6000 men, 3000 being under arms, and the
other 3000 at home on half-pay. Those in active service serve for three
years at a monthly pay of two ounces of silver. After this they return
to their homes, and enter the territorial army, or yul-mag, whence they
may be at any moment recalled to active service. They are not usually
uniformed, though some wear a black Chinese jacket. They are armed with
matchlocks, bows and arrows, long spears, and slings (ordo).

Besides the regular army, the Government may, in case of need, call out
all the forces of the country, when each family has to supply one man
fully equipped and provisioned, and every landholder sends a man for
every kang [308] of land he owns, and a follower to carry his
provisions. The Kalon, Djongpon, Dahpon, and chief men furnish quotas
of cavalry (or tamag), all those who have ponies being incorporated in
this arm.

Besides the expense of maintaining the army—each Chinese private being
paid fourteen rupees a month and thirty surs of tsamba, and every
Tibetan 2¼ rupees a month—the Tibetan Government has to contribute
50,000 rupees to the Residency establishment, exclusive of the Amban’s
salary. The Tibetan Government, as well as the whole nation, groan
under this excessive and useless expenditure; but the maintenance of
this order of things is declared to be essential for the protection of
the holy lamas against the encroachments of the English, Nepalese, and
Kashmir Governments. Both the latter states are allies of Tibet, while
the very name of the first is dreaded by the Government officers,
especially the monk officers, as an invincible power, and as being the
incarnation of the Lhamayins (giants) who fought against the gods.

It is universally believed in Tibet that after two hundred years the
Tashi lama will retire to Shambala, the Utopian city of the Buddhists,
and will not return to Tibet, and that in the mean time the whole world
will succumb to the power of the Phylings (Russians and English).
Neither the Emperor of China nor the combined legions of gods and
demi-gods who reside round the golden mount of Rirab (Sumeru) will be
able to arrest the progress of their arms or the miracles of their
superior intellect. It is the policy of the Tibetans to keep them at a
distance, not by open hostilities, but by temporizing and diplomacy.
They were initiated into this policy by the Ambans, who are always busy
in devising fresh plans for guaranteeing the safety of the country
against all sorts of imaginary foreign aggressions.

The Nepalese are not now so much the object of this terror as they were
a century ago, but are regarded as peaceful allies under the rule of
the Emperor of China. Tibet pays no tribute to Nepal, nor does it
entertain any agent at Katmandu, while Nepal maintains an agent at
Lhasa to promote friendly relations, as also to protect her commercial
interests with Tibet. It is to be remembered that the richest merchants
and bankers of Lhasa are Nepalese Palpas.

During the late disturbances between the monks of the To-sam ling
College and the Nyer-chang chenpo, the late Tashi lama did not consult
the Amban, or invite the aid of his soldiers to quell the rebellion
among the 1500 disaffected and unruly monks, but secretly apprised his
subjects of the neighbouring villages of his intentions, and on the
appointed day 10,000 armed men were assembled, carrying long spears,
bucklers, matchlocks, and slings, who at once struck the rebel monks
with terror. He has since that day been convinced of the sincere
veneration and devoted loyalty of his people, and of the perfect
uselessness of the Amban’s forces. This instance of tact in the Panchen
rinpoche has raised him higher than ever in the estimation of the
people, much to the discomfort of the jealous Amban. It is also
pleasing to notice some signs of independence in the youthful Tashi,
who is now the senior sovereign of Tibet, the Dalai lama being as yet
an infant. The villagers and common folks, who suffer most from the
Amban’s tyranny, say that in course of time the present Tashi will
prove a worthy successor of the great Tempai nyima [309] in faith as
well as in strength of mind.

The principal sources of revenue of the Lhasa Government are the
family-tax and the land-tax, the first being usually paid in coin, and
the latter in kind. The family-tax may be paid at any time of the year.

Apart from the lands held by chiefs and nobles, there are, as already
stated, altogether fifty-three Djong, or districts, under Djongpon, and
a hundred and twenty-three sub-districts under Djongnyer. These
constitute what are called shung shi, or State lands. Each djong
contains, on an average, five hundred families of misser, or farmers. A
misser family consists of one wife, with all her husbands, children,
and servants. Each family, on an average, possesses two or three kang
of arable soil. If one khal (50 lb.) yields nine or ten khal, it is
considered a good harvest; six to eight is a tolerable crop, four to
six a bad one. The Government revenue for each kang is, on an average,
fifty srang (125 rupees), or about one hundred and fifty khal of grain.
The Crown revenue, if taken entirely in kind, would therefore amount to
2,625,000 khal, which would be equivalent in money to 2,000,000 rupees.
This is partially expended by the State for the Church, and in
distributing alms to the whole body of lamas belonging to the
monasteries of Potala, Sera, Dabung, Gadan, etc. In every Djong are
kept registers, in which are entered the collections in previous years
and the quality of the land under cultivation. The collector, after
examining these, inspects the crops, and estimates the quantity of the
yield, and by comparison with that of the five preceding years he fixes
the tax for the current year. In very prosperous years the State takes
two-fifths of the crop (the maximum allowed it).

Ulag consists in supplying to all those bearing a Government order for
ulag, in which the number of animals, etc., is enumerated, beasts of
burden—ponies, mules, yaks, and donkeys. If the misser have no ponies,
they have to furnish yaks or donkeys instead. For stages along which
neither yaks nor ponies can pass, porters must be supplied for carrying
the traveller’s goods. In default of these, the misser are required to
pay a certain sum for carriage or conveyance. Misser, and all those who
own more than one kang of land, must supply ulag and ta-u, consisting
of either one coolie or pony, free of charge when the traveller
produces his Government pass. The system of levying ulag is a kind of
indirect taxation, accounts of which are kept by the village headmen.
Some families supply a hundred ulag in a year, others only five or ten.
If a misser fail to supply ulag once in a year, he is required to
supply double the amount the following year. This duty is levied on all
kinds of State lands and subjects, freeholds and private property
granted to sacred personages alone being exempt from this hateful tax.
Lands purchased from Government are also liable to it. Under the Lhasa
Government there are about a hundred and twenty landlords, out of whom
about twenty are very rich and powerful. The present regent, Lama
Ta-tsag Rinpoche, of Kundu ling, has upwards of 3000 misser on his
estates in Kharu and Tibet Proper. The ex-regent, whose estates lie in
Kongpo, has about 5000 misser, and other great lamas and laymen about
1000 misser each. The greatest noble of Tibet, Phags-pa-sha, of
Chab-mdo, [310] is lord over 10,000 misser.

When questions arise about newly reclaimed lands, the tax-collector,
having no register (tsi-shi) to guide him, measures the field and
superintends the harvesting, when he fixes the amount due to the State.
He is forbidden fixing his assessments otherwise than by personal
examination. The land-tax may be paid in three instalments—in November,
December, and January, at which latter date it is remitted by the
Djongpon to Lhasa or Tashilhunpo, as the case may be. The tax-gatherer
has authority to remit a portion of the tax when the crops have failed
for some reason or other; in fact, as a Tibetan author puts it, “as
eggs are quietly taken from under a sitting-hen without disturbing the
nest, so should the tax-gatherer collect the taxes without oppressing
or disturbing the misser.” [311]

The great monasteries at Lhasa and its neighbourhood, such as Sera,
Dabung, Gadan, Samye, etc., have large freehold estates.

Besides these, there are more than three hundred landholders, called
gerpa, who pay a nominal revenue to the Government, varying from ten to
thirty doche (1250 to 3750 rupees), and who are also called upon to
furnish ulag, ta-u, and other indirect taxes. Cows and jomo belonging
to the Government and tended by dokpa are calculated to yield at the
rate of five pounds of butter per head per year. In the provinces of
Kong-po and Pema-kyod numerous pigs are reared, and rich families count
their pigs by the thousands. The Lhasa Government levies a tax of one
tanka on every pig, and derives no inconsiderable revenue from these
districts from this source. The tenants in each Djong contribute ten
days’ labour per head for the ploughing or harvesting of the State
lands. This service is called the las-tal, or “labour-tax.”

There is in Tibet no fixed rate of duties on merchandise, nor is there
a regular import duty. Rich merchants who come from foreign countries
are required to pay annually a tax of fifty srang to Government; large
traders are charged twenty-five srang, and small traders three srang.
Shopkeepers and pedlars pay five sho (1¼ rupee) annually, and itinerant
Khamba hawkers who carry their own loads are charged half a tanka per
quarter both in U and Tsang.

For crossing large bridges the charge is from one kha (one anna) to one
tanka per head for a man, and a karma (two annas) to a sho (four annas)
for ponies. For pasturing cattle on public lands there is a charge of
from three to five sho yearly for every head. Besides these, there is a
capitation tax of from two to three srang (7½ rupees) on people owning
no land but only homesteads. The revenue-collectors (Khraldupa) and
their servants get conveyance, ponies, and yaks at every stage free of
charge, and the villagers are bound to furnish them in addition with
attendants, water, fuel, and lodgings. The revenue-collectors may
accept for their own use all the khatag, butter, tea, and silver coin
which the misser may see fit to offer them. They are also authorized,
when on tour, to kill one out of every hundred sheep belonging to the
misser for their own consumption. [312] In all other matters they are
guided by the usages and laws of the country. No Government official,
revenue officer, or Djongpon may oppress the poorest misser. If one of
these peasants fails to pay his taxes in money, he may offer the
equivalent in tea, butter, or blankets; but live stock, except when
nothing else is available, are not to be accepted. The property in
cattle belonging to the Lhasa Government exceeds 1,000,000 head. There
is a superintendent of this Government stock, who, at the end of every
year, submits an account of the live animals and the number died or
killed during the year. In order to satisfy the authorities, he is
required to produce the entire dried carcasses of the dead animals with
their tails and horns. These superintendents are appointed annually,
and as a consequence they take every opportunity of making their
fortune at the expense of the State before the expiration of their term
of service.

Letters are carried by messengers and special couriers called
chib-zamba (or ta-zamba), meaning, literally, “horse-bridge.” The
couriers generally discharge their duty with admirable efficiency, and
every one assists them with great promptness. All Government messengers
are provided with the best and swiftest ponies, and at every halt are
furnished with lodgings, water, firewood, and a man to cook their
victuals. Couriers on foot usually travel from 20 to 25 miles a day,
while those who ride do from 30 to 35 miles. The latter is the express
rate, for which the Government generally gives an extra remuneration.
Government couriers alone get ta-u, or ponies for travelling; private
letters of officials are carried by them, while common people make
their own arrangements for the conveyance of their letters, which are
not, however, numerous.

The express couriers, or te-tsi, on the road between Lhasa and China
are dressed in tight blue-coloured gowns, the tape fastenings of which
are tied on their heads, and the knot sealed. They are required to
subsist daily on five hen’s eggs, five cups of plain tea, a pound of
corn-flour, half a pound of rice, and a quarter-pound of lean meat.
[313] They are forbidden to take much salt, and are strictly forbidden
to eat onions, garlic, red pepper, butter, or milk. At midnight they
are allowed to sleep in a sitting posture for three hours, after which
they are awakened by the keeper of the stage-house. It is said that
these couriers are in the habit of taking certain medicines to give
them the power of endurance against fatigue. [314] The letters are
enclosed in a yellow bag, which the courier carries on his back,
generally using some soft feathers to keep it from coming into contact
with his person. They get relays of ponies at the end of every five
lebor. [315] Arriving at a stage-house, they fire a gun as a notice to
the keeper of the next postal stage to make ready a post-pony. At every
such stage a relay of five ponies is usually kept ready. The courier is
allowed to change his dress once a week. [316]

A special class of trained men are employed on this service. The
distance between the Tibetan capital and Peking is divided into a
hundred and twenty gya-tsug, or postal stages, of about 80 to 90 lebor
each. This distance of nearly 10,000 lebor is required to be traversed
in seventy-two days. Couriers are generally allowed a delay of five
days, but when they exceed that they are punished. On occasions of very
great importance and urgency the express rate to Peking is thirty-six
days. [317] During the last affray between the junior Amban and the
people of Shigatse the express took a month and a half to reach Peking.

As regards the administration of justice and the laws of Tibet, the
following peculiarities may be noted: Both parties in a suit make
written statements of their case, and these briefs are read in court.

The judge has the evidence, depositions, and his decision written down,
three copies of the latter being given to the parties concerned. Then
he states the law fee (tim tég) and the engrossing fee (myug-rin), both
of which vary with the importance of the case, and are borne by both
parties to the suit.

The death punishment is only inflicted in certain cases of dacoity
(chagpa), when those convicted are sewed in leather bags and thrown
into a river.

Offences of a less heinous nature are dealt with by banishment to the
borders, whipping, imprisonment, or fines. [318]

Nothing can be more horrible and loathsome than a Tibetan jail. There
are some dungeons in an obscure village two days’ journey up the river
from Tashilhunpo, where life convicts are sent for confinement. The
prisoner having been placed in a cell, the door is removed and the
opening filled up with stone masonry, only one small aperture, about
six inches in diameter, being left, through which the unhappy creature
is supplied with his daily food. There are also a few small holes left
open on the roof, through which the guards and the jailor empty every
kind of filth into the cell. Some prisoners have lived for two years
under this horrible treatment, while others, more fortunate, die in a
few months. [319]

In cases of murder, there are four fines to be paid by the murderer:
first, “blood-money” (tong jal); second, a sum for funeral ceremonies
for the benefit of the slain; third, a fine to the State; and fourth, a
peace offering to the family and friends of the murdered person. These
fines vary from, the weight of the body of the slain in gold, to five
ounces of silver, or the equivalent in kind. Should these fines not be
paid, the murderer is thrown into prison.

When the murderer is insane, or a minor, aged less than eight years,
the relatives or friends are only required to pay the funeral expenses
of the victim; the same rule applies if any one is killed by a horse,
yak, or other animal, the owner paying the funeral expenses of the
person killed.

When a husband kills his wife, or a master his servant, he is required
to pay the usual fine to the State and the funeral expenses.

Thieves have to pay from a hundred to seven times the value of the
goods stolen, according to the social standing of the person from whom
they have stolen.

When the thief is a recidivist, his hands may be cut off if it is his
fifth conviction, and he may be hamstrung if it is his seventh. For the
ninth conviction his eyes can be put out.

If a thief is punished by the person from whom he is attempting to
steal, the courts will not take cognizance of the case; but should the
thief be killed, blood-money, to the amount of five ounces of silver,
must be paid to his family.

Children aged less than thirteen are not punishable for theft, but
their parents are remonstrated with. When a woman commits a theft, the
fines and possible corporal punishment are borne in equal proportions
by herself and her husband.

No corporal punishment can be inflicted on a pregnant woman, nor on
those suffering from an illness, who have recently lost parents, or who
are older than seventy.

He who harbours a thief is held to be a greater culprit than the thief
himself. If a person witness a theft and do not give notice thereof, he
is held equally guilty with the thief. Thefts by one member of a family
on another member should be punished by the head of the family alone.

The theft of a lock, a key, or a watch-dog, is considered equivalent to
robbing the objects they keep safe.

Rape on the person of a married woman of high degree is punishable by
emasculation and fines. In case the woman belongs to the middle or
lower classes, the culprit pays the husband a fine and gives the woman
a suit of clothes.

If a man of low rank has intercourse with the unmarried daughter of a
man of high standing, he must serve the father without wages for a term
of years. If the offender is of high standing, he has only a fine to
pay.

In all cases of assault and battery, fines, known as song jal, or “life
money,” are alone imposed, to which may be added the amount necessary
for medical treatment for the wounded party. The amount of the fine is
fixed by the size and depth of the wounds, the importance of the bone
broken or the organ injured.

When judges or arbitrators are unable to reach a decision, they may
permit the plaintiff to challenge the defendant to make a deposition on
oath, or undergo an ordeal. In Khams and Amdo this practice is dying
out, but it is still in vogue in Central Tibet. On account of the
nature of these oaths and ordeals, the law exempts certain classes of
men from taking them. Lamas, teachers, genyen (semi-priestly laymen),
monks, and novices are not allowed to take oaths and pass through
ordeals, nor are Tantriks (religious sorcerers) and other practitioners
of mystic incantations, who are supposed to be able to counteract the
fearful consequences of breaking an oath by means of their powerful
spells. Destitute and famished people, to whom food and clothing are
all in all, and men who will do anything they like, regardless of the
consequences in a future existence, are not allowed to make a
deposition on oath, nor are wives and mothers, who can easily be
persuaded to swear in the interests of their husbands and children.
Besides these, young boys, lunatics, and the dumb, who do not
understand the difference between good and evil, happiness and misery,
are equally exempt. All others, not included in the above list, who are
honest, know the difference between good and evil, believe in the
inevitable consequences of one’s actions (karma), are held proper
persons to take oaths and undergo ordeals.

The challenger is required to pay the defendant the “oath
compensation,” or “oath blood” (na-tra), which varies from a trifling
amount to a very large sum, according to the nature of the case; but
for one of considerable importance the usual compensation is fifty
silver srang (125 rupees), and a yak; besides this “oath flesh” (na
sha) is claimed.

The person challenged to take the oath first offers prayers to the
all-knowing gods, the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, to the gods of the land
and to the goddesses called Srung-ma (protectresses), to the demi-gods
of the land, and to the goblins and nymphs who live in the land,
invoking them to bear witness to his solemn deposition. Then he speaks
the following words: “What I depose is the truth, and nothing but the
truth.” He then seats himself naked on the skin of a cow or ox newly
slain, smears himself with the blood of the animal, and places an image
of Buddha, with some volumes of religious books, on his head. Next,
after eating the raw heart of the ox, and drinking three mouthfuls of
its steaming blood, he declares to the spectators, “There is certainly
no guilt in me, and if there be any, may the guardians of the world and
the gods make me cease to exist before the end of the current month.”
He then receives the oath compensation (na-tra) and the slain ox or
“oath flesh” (na sha).

It is commonly believed among the Tibetans that, should one perjure
himself, he either becomes insane, or dies vomiting blood, before the
expiration of a hundred and seven days. When this does not befall him,
other misfortunes happen, such as the loss of his wife or children,
quarrels, feuds, or the loss or destruction of his property. Death is
believed to be the most common consequence of perjury.

The undergoing of such an oath liberates the swearer from the penalty
of death, and from paying fines in all cases of robbery and murder, as
well as from civil liabilities, such as debts and disputes about land,
even though it involves thousands of srang. On the other hand it is
believed that if the challenger be guilty of false and malicious
accusation, all the evils reserved for the perjured swearer will fall
upon him.

In certain cases the guilt or innocence of parties is decided by the
throwing of dice, the person being exculpated who gets the greatest
number of points.

Important cases of murder, dacoity, and theft are also decided by
ordeals, of which there are two kinds—picking out white and black
pebbles from a bowl of boiling oil or muddy water, and handling a
red-hot stone ball. In the presence of the prosecutor, the witnesses,
the judge, or his representative, and many other spectators, the
accused person invokes the gods and the demi-gods to bear witness to
his statement, and declares that he tells the perfect truth. A copper
or iron bowl filled with boiling oil or muddy water is then placed
before him, in which two pebbles of the size of an egg, one white and
the other black, each enveloped and tied up in a bag, are thrown. The
swearer washes his hands first with water, and then with milk, and,
having heard read a section of the Law written on a tablet with the
blood of a cow slain for the occasion, plunges his hand in the boiling
oil or water, and withdraws one of the pebbles. If he takes out the
white one without scalding his hand, he is believed to be innocent; but
if his hand is scalded, he is considered to be only partially innocent.
If he brings out the black stone and gets his hand scalded besides, he
is pronounced guilty.

The second form of ordeal is performed by heating a stone ball of the
size of an ostrich’s egg red hot, and then placing it in an iron
vessel. The person taking the oath, having washed his hand in water and
milk, seizes the ball and walks with it to a distance of seven, five,
or three paces, according as his challenger is of the first, second, or
third class of social rank. After this, his hand is enveloped in a
white cotton bag, which, in the presence of the spectators, is tied up
and sealed. At the end of the third, fifth, or seventh day, the bag is
opened and the palm examined. If it is found unscalded, with only a
pale yellowish line or stain upon it, the accused is declared innocent;
if there appear a blister of the size of a pea, he is thought partly
guilty; if three blisters of that size appear, he is considered half
guilty; but if his hand be burned all over, he is held guilty of all
the charges.

According to the laws of Tibet, the interest on money, grain, or any
other commodity is twenty per cent., or one measure for five measures
yearly. The courts in a few cases admit contracts at even a higher rate
of interest; but those who claim more according to their contract deeds
may be punished as usurers, though sometimes their claims are allowed.
In urgent cases thirty-three per cent. have been known to have been
agreed upon. All contracts are required to be made in writing, attested
by witnesses, and duly signed and sealed. The interest must be paid at
the end of the year. If the debtor abscond, the witnesses are called
upon to make good the loss sustained by the lender; but if he die, or
become insolvent, and the money be not realized, the witnesses are not
held responsible. If, however, the money has been lent by the
Government, by certain monasteries, or lamas, or by the paymaster of
the army, the amount is realised from the relatives, witnesses, and
neighbours of the debtor. At every military station, a certain amount
of money is generally lent out by Government, on the interest of which
the militia is paid by the quartermaster, who is one of the chief
Government money-lenders. Usually when the person soliciting a loan is
not known, or if doubts about his honesty are entertained, securities
are required. Not so in Tibet, where the lenders have been known to use
their power to collect debts from the heirs of debtors to the third
generation. The more the debtor exceeds the fixed term for the payment
of his debt the more urgent is the creditor in his demands. The court,
when it sees that the creditor has extracted compound interest for many
years from the debtor, can put a stop to the accumulation of further
compound interest; but there is no fixed period mentioned in the law
after which compound interest must cease to accumulate. [320]

In Tibet such articles as household utensils, implements of husbandry
or war, drinking cups, borrowed articles, articles held in trust,
landed estates of which the revenue is paid to the State, and images of
gold, are never given in loan or mortgaged.

When a man has a single pony, one milch cow or jo, one plough, one span
of bullocks or yaks, or one suit of clothing, nobody can ask for a loan
of any of these articles without committing the offence of “impudence,”
for which he may be severely rebuked. Creditors, whether the Government
or private persons, cannot seize upon any of these properties for debt.
This is the Grand Charter of the Tibetans. Nor can any creditor by
force seize the property of his debtor. If without the debtor’s
permission he removes one srang, he forfeits his entire claim on a loan
of a hundred srang; if he remove two, on two hundred srang, and so on
in the same proportion. Nobody, be he a public officer, landlord,
master, or creditor, can, for any kind of pecuniary claim, exercise
violence on the people. If, while being in possession of means to do
so, a man of the people refuses to pay off his liabilities or debts,
his creditors may employ mediators, or institute proceedings against
him in a court of justice; but if, without resorting to these means,
they beat him or use any kind of violence on him, they forfeit all
claims upon him.

If after buying an article the purchaser wishes to return it on the
same day, he must forfeit one-tenth of the price. If he return it on
the following day he forfeits one-fifth; on the second, one-half; and
if he keeps it beyond the third day it is not returnable. If a
householder cheat a merchant lodger, he is required to pay compensation
at the rate of five srang for every srang’s worth stolen. If a trader
deceive his customers by using false weights and measures, or by
selling adulterated goods, imitation gems or jewels, or by circulating
counterfeit coin, he must be immediately handed over to the police, and
committed for trial. If the merchant convicted be a Tibetan subject,
all his goods are confiscated, and he is sentenced to penal servitude
for a certain number of years. If he be a subject of some foreign
Government, such as China, Mongolia, Kashmir, or Nepal, such fine, as
is prescribed by law, is exacted from him. His goods are seized,
examined, taken stock of, and after being securely packed, are sent
with the owner in charge of the police to his own Government, together
with a document complaining of his conduct, and stating the amount of
the fine exacted from him.

The jealousy of the Tibetans towards Europeans is supposed to date from
1791–92, when English soldiers were believed to have taken part in the
war which followed the incursion of the Gorkhas into Tibet; and as the
English Government, then in its infancy in India, took no steps to
cultivate the friendship of the Tibetans, that feeling took a lasting
hold on their minds. The shock which China, Nepal, Bhutan, and Sikkim
have received from their reverses when at war with the British power,
has also extended to the peace-loving Tibetans.

Throughout the nineteenth century the Tibetans have followed the
Chinese policy of exclusiveness, not from fear of annexation, but
because they had been shortly before nearly conquered, and were
entirely under Chinese influence. This fear has been sedulously
encouraged by an ex-minister of the Rajah of Sikkim, the Dewan Namgyal,
who was expelled from that country for his treatment of Drs. Hooker and
Campbell, [321] and subsequently obtained from the Grand Lama the post
of frontier officer, to watch the “encroachments” of the Indian
Government. The attempts of Dr. Hooker, Mr. Edgar, and lastly of Sir
Richard Temple, to enter Tibetan territory were described by him as
instances of encroachment on the part of the Government of India, which
he represented as devoting all its energies to the invasion of Tibet,
and as having been foiled by his diplomatic skill and wisdom, aided by
the zealous co-operation of the Djongpon of Khamba and Phari. On one
occasion he even stated to the Lhasa officials, as a proof of his
unshaken loyalty to the Grand Lama, that he had refused a pension of
fifty rupees which had been offered to him by the Indian Government for
supplying information respecting the state of affairs in Tibet! This
functionary has, however, together with his coadjutor the Djongpon of
Khamba, lately fallen into disgrace with the Grand Lama, and has also
lost all influence at Tashilhunpo.

The exclusiveness of the Tibetan Government is to be chiefly attributed
to the hostile and intriguing attitude of the frontier officials
towards the British Government. Next to it is the fear of introducing
small-pox and other dangerous diseases into Tibet, where the people,
being ignorant of the proper treatment of this disease, die in great
numbers from it. Death from small-pox is the most dreaded, since the
victim is believed to be immediately sent to hell. Not the least
important cause, however, is the fear of the extinction of Buddhism by
the foreigners—a feeling which prevails in the minds of the dominant
class, the clergy.

Besides jealousy of foreigners, there is another cause of great
importance, being connected with the commercial interests of China.
Peking is eight or ten months’, and Silling (Hsi-ning) four months’
journey from Lhasa, yet the Tibetans carry on a brisk trade with these
and other noted cities of China in tea, silk, wooden furniture, and
other commodities. The Government of Lhasa sends every year two or more
caravans to purchase goods for the State from the commercial centres on
the borders of China. An escort of 500 soldiers accompanies each
caravan, for it is not unusual for mounted bands of robbers, from 200
to 300 strong, to attack the caravans. By the opening of the Darjiling
railway, Calcutta, where most of the Chinese articles valued in Tibet
may be easily and cheaply procured, will be brought within three weeks’
journey of Lhasa.

The Tibetans thoroughly appreciate these facilities, and every Tibetan
who has ever visited Darjiling warmly praises our Government for making
the Jalep la road. The Chinese Government naturally fear that with the
opening of free intercourse between Tibet and India, China will be a
great loser so far as her commercial interests are concerned.



CHAPTER VIII.

RETURN TO TASHILHUNPO AND UGYEN-GYATSO’S VISIT TO THE BONBO SANCTUARY
OF RIGYAL SENDAR.


The bells of the Jo khang were ringing and the great trumpets of
Tangye-ling were summoning the lamas to early morning service, when, on
June 13, I took from the roof of our house a last look at the gilded
spires and red walls of Potala, and started out for Tashilhunpo. I
noticed near our lodgings a number of women drawing water from a well
in rawhide buckets. The water of Lhasa is excellent, and both abundant
and very near the surface, most of the wells being not over four feet
deep; and this is the reason for the belief that the town is over a
subterranean lake.

Arriving at the foot of Chagpori, on the summit of which is the College
of Surgeons of Tibet, I got off my horse and ascended the hill, as I
had promised to visit an old doctor known as Amchi Rivola, who was
afflicted with cataract. On the way up I was met by one of the Amchi’s
pupils, who presented me with a khatag. I was led into a nice room
containing a few neatly-finished tables, on one of which was a cup full
of delicate rose-coloured tea of the most delicious aroma. [322] The
ceiling was covered with silk, and satin hangings hid the walls, on
which hung also pictures of the god of medicine and his attendants.

Amchi Rivola soon made his appearance, a man of commanding looks and
heavily built. He was the Principal of the Vaidurya Ta-tsan of
Chagpori, and physician to the regent. He expressed his pleasure at
seeing me, and said he had heard me most kindly spoken of by the
Lhacham Phala, and he would be greatly pleased if I would postpone my
journey to Shigatse and endeavour to cure his disease, which he thought
curable by an operation, but he knew of no surgeon in Tibet able to
perform it.

I was pained at my utter inability to help him, and told him that I
would willingly prolong my stay at Lhasa if I had any means of curing
him, but I had none whatever, and must take my leave. So saying, I rose
from my seat, and left after the usual leave-takings. [323]

Following the same road by which we had come to Lhasa, we stopped that
night at Netang. On the 15th we reached Palti djong, and on the 18th
arrived at Dongtse at 10 o’clock at night, and put up in Pador’s house.

Early the following morning I went to the monastery, and was promptly
led to the minister’s apartments, where I found him covered with
small-pox pustules, and hardly able to speak. The Lhacham’s son was
also ill with the same disease, but convalescing.

When the minister fell asleep, I went to the Tung-chen’s room. He asked
me if I had not met Phurchung on the road, as he had left for Lhasa
only a week ago carrying my letters and a shot-gun. As to Ugyen-gyatso,
he had returned from Lachan with the luggage that had been left there,
and was now waiting for me at Gyatsoshar, near Shigatse. I remained at
Dongtse until July 3, when, in company with Phurchung and Pador, I set
out for Gyatsoshar, which place we reached the following day, and Ugyen
gave me, to my infinite delight, a package of letters from India.

Ugyen told me that since his return from the Lachan barrier he had been
busy collecting plants. He had also carefully kept a diary from which I
culled the following details, which may prove of interest.

One evening a lama friend had called on him, and asked him if he would
like to meet a Golog from Amdo. These Golog, his friend went on to say,
are a nation of brigands living in Amdo in Eastern Tibet. [324] Their
country is nowhere cultivated, but they breed many ponies, which they
use for making raids on the adjacent peoples. Their chiefs exact
black-mail (chag tal) from all people, and rob all they fall in with,
unless they have passports from the Golog chiefs.

The Gologs have a few lamaseries, the heads of which come from
Tashilhunpo, and are appointed for a term of five years, after which
they return to Ulterior Tibet. Not long ago one of these lamas returned
to Tashilhunpo, after having enjoyed during his sojourn in Gologland
the confidence of the people and chiefs. He had amassed considerable
wealth, and he spent on his return several thousand rupees in
entertaining all the Tashilhunpo monks, and in giving them presents of
money. Two years ago the wife of the Golog chief, near whom he had
lived, came to Tashilhunpo on a pilgrimage, and after visiting the
temple, she expressed a desire to see their former lama, but he was
nowhere to be found, though it was known that he was at Tashilhunpo.
Among the Golog people it is customary to greet one another with a
kiss, and whoever omits the kiss when meeting or parting with an
acquaintance is considered rude and unmannerly.

The lama had kissed this lady hundreds of times in her own country, but
how could he kiss her now before all the monks? and particularly as the
Panchen rinpoche was present at Tashilhunpo; how could he hope to
escape unpunished if he committed an act of such gross immodesty?

The lady, however, before leaving Tashilhunpo, invited him to a dinner,
and as soon as she appeared in the room he shut the door and greeted
her with a kiss on the mouth, and explained to her the reason of his
failing to see her at first, and the embarrassment he had felt in
approaching her in public. [325]

Ugyen’s friend also told him that in the Bardon district of Khams,
[326] when two acquaintances meet they touch each other’s foreheads
together by way of salutation.

The same friend, who had imparted to Ugyen the preceding information,
told him one day this fable: In times of yore, when beasts could talk,
a leopard met an ass, and, though he had a strong inclination to kill
him, he was impressed by his strength, of which he judged by his loud
bray, so he offered him his friendship on condition that he would watch
his den when he went out in search of prey.

One day the leopard sallied forth with a mighty roar by way of prelude
to his day’s work, and forthwith a wild yak rolled down the cliff
overhanging his den, killed from fright at the sound. When the leopard
returned and saw the dead dong, the ass said he had killed it, and
stuck out his tongue, smeared with blood, in proof of his prowess.

The leopard believed him, and promised to help him when the time came.
One day he told him to go and graze in the meadow on the other side of
the hill. When the ass had eaten his fill he brayed twenty or thirty
times in sheer wantonness, and the leopard thinking his friend in
trouble, ran to his rescue, but the ass told him he was only braying
for pleasure. A little while after a pack of wolves attacked the ass,
when he brayed loudly, calling his friend to his help; but the leopard
thought that he was only amusing himself, and did not go to his rescue,
and the ass was torn to pieces by the wolves.

On the 7th of the eighth moon (June 23) a grand military review was
held at Shigatse, when more than a thousand soldiers were present, and
there was a sham fight in the presence of the general. There are two
reviews (mag chyang) every year, one in summer, the other in winter;
and besides these there is one whenever the Amban visits Shigatse on a
tour of inspection.

On June 29 the summer prayer ceremony (or monlam) was celebrated. [327]
All the monks of Tashilhunpo, some three thousand odd, assembled at
Chyag-tsal-gang. A satin wall or gyabyal, 1000 feet in circumference,
was erected, and inside it was a great State canopy, under which the
Panchen rinpoche’s throne was placed. He was unable to be present, but
his stole and mitre were put on the throne, and round it thronged the
lamas in order of precedence and rank. The people of Shigatse were
there, some under tents, others under bowers of cypress and willow
branches, all amusing themselves singing and joking. A mast about 120
feet high was erected, and ropes stretched from it to the great Kiku
building, and on these were hung pictures of all the gods of the
pantheon. At Shigatse, the while, there was racing and military
manœuvres and drill.

The following day was sacred to Dipankara Buddha, and his picture was
made to occupy a prominent place in the exhibition. This representation
of him was about 100 feet high, and skilfully worked in different
coloured satins. On either side of it were gigantic representations of
the Buddha.

All the lamas and nobles of Shigatse with their families made merry
under the great tent in the Chyag-tsal-gang. Sumptuous dinners, cooked
by the best native and Chinese cooks, were served to the great
personages of Tashilhunpo and of the Government. Many persons had
pitched tents near the great one, and were amusing themselves there
with their families and friends. From morning to evening the deafening
music of drums, cymbals, and trumpets never ceased.

No one was absent from the fête save the Grand Lama, who, it was
rumoured, was laid up with small-pox at Tobgyal, where he had gone
after a visit to the hot springs of Tanag. On either side of the great
nine-storied building of Kiku, between Shigatse and Tashilhunpo, were
two huge lions in which men were concealed; these were moved about from
time to time to the great delight of the people.

The next day was the full moon, and was sacred to Sakya Buddha. The
great picture of Dipankara Buddha was removed, and one of Sakya Sinha,
of gigantic size, and surrounded by all the Buddhas of past and future
ages, took its place. This picture was brought out from the lamasery to
the sound of deafening music, and with great ceremony. Ten black
priests (Nagpa), well versed in tantrik rituals, conducted a solemn
religious service, and were assisted by 300 lamas from Tsomaling
chanting hymns.

In the plain of Chyag-tsal-gang the lamas and people again feasted and
enjoyed themselves as on the previous day.

On the morrow (July 2) the picture of Sachya tubpa was displaced for
one of the Buddha who is to come, Maitreya (or Chyamba). It was brought
out and hung up with the same ceremony as was observed on the preceding
days. This day Tashilhunpo was open to women, and crowds of them in the
gayest and richest apparel visited the temples and shrines. Ugyen
estimated the value of the headdress of one lady he saw at 40,000
rupees. In the evening every one went and touched with his or her head
the picture of Chyamba, and thus received his blessing. [328]

During my stay at Gyatsoshar I occupied the little pavilion belonging
to the minister, which I have described previously. [329] The flowers
in the garden which surrounded it filled the air with their fragrance;
the tall poplars, the widespread willows, the fragrant junipers, the
graceful cedars, all contributed to make this place the most favoured
of all the neighbourhood.

My health rapidly improved in these pleasant surroundings and genial
temperature, and I worked diligently at transcribing works of great
interest into the nagari character which had, though written in
Sanskrit, been preserved in the (Wu-chan) script of Tibet. Ugyen
devoted himself to botanizing, extending his excursions to considerable
distances. Finally, to facilitate bringing in his collections, he
bought a donkey and a pony for himself to ride.

July 19 was kept as a great holiday, it being the day on which the
Buddha first turned the Wheel of the Law. The people of Shigatse and
neighbourhood visited the different chapels and sanctuaries and
thronged in every corner of Tashilhunpo.

Two days later the Deba Shikha, of whom I have had so often to speak,
gave a garden-party to a number of his friends in the garden
surrounding the house in which I was living at Gyatsoshar. There were a
dozen men and women; the former amused themselves the whole day at
archery and quoits, [330] in both of which they exhibited considerable
skill. The same day Ugyen started on a botanizing trip, which took him
as far as Sakya.

On July 26 I returned to Dongtse, and was pleased to find that the
Minister had recovered from the small-pox. I found the Tung-chen busy
preparing for the ceremony of consecrating a new house of the Seng
chen, [331] as the minister is called, now nearly complete, and built a
little to the north of the Tsug-la khang temple. In the room given me
were some five or six hundred balls of butter of about two pounds
weight each, and a number of bags of tsamba and wheat flour.

I had only been here four days when I was requested by the Chyag-dso-pa
of Gyantse to visit him and see if I could not do something for the
complaint from which he had now been suffering for some time. The
invitation was so pressing that I could not refuse; so I set out at
once, and was most kindly received by him and his family. I remained
here until August 13, when a letter reached me from the minister, who
was still at Dongtse, asking me to rejoin him there at once. This
letter of the minister, though written in Tibetan, was in the Roman
character, which I had taught him to write the preceding winter. [332]

As I rode back to Dongtse I was greatly struck by the beauty of the
vegetation; the little pools were frequently covered with lilies, and
wild-flowers were in full bloom.

The minister asked me if I would go to Tobgyal and see the Grand Lama,
who was desperately ill. He had received a letter from him asking for
some consecrated pills (tsé-ril); I could take this medicine along with
me, and at the same time he would inform the Panchen that I was a
skilful physician and might be able to cure him.

Hearing of the desperate condition of the Grand Lama, I naturally
hesitated to undertake this commission, and so asked for time for
reflection. The next day, however, I told the minister that I could not
venture to wait on the Grand Lama unless he expressed a wish to see me;
or, at all events, unless I was accompanied by the minister himself. He
finally decided that he would send the tse-ril by a confidential
servant, and hint in his note accompanying them, that perhaps Indian
medicines might prove beneficial.

On August 25 and 26, the final ceremonies of consecrating the new house
built by the minister (and which had been going on for the last five
days) were begun. The last ceremony is called the chin-sreg. [333] The
mask of the god of death (Shinje gyalbo), his weapons and armour were
hung on a stake stuck close to the fireplace. Then bundles of
sandalwood were arranged in six heaps, and melted butter poured over
them to feed the flame; and a lama, chanting hymns, sat opposite each
fire. Sesamum and barley were scattered about. At the termination of
the first day’s ceremony, a dinner was served to all the guests and
monks.

The chin-sreg ceremony on the 26th was similar to that of the day
before, and wound up with a long service. In the afternoon the Seng
chen (the minister) took his position on a raised seat under a spacious
awning spread on the roof of the tsug-lha-khang, and ordered all the
lamas, carpenters, masons, coppersmiths, gilders, etc., to assemble,
when he distributed presents to them. To the lamas and monks he gave
silver coins, khatag and blankets; and to the head labourers, rugs
(tumshi), felt hats (khamba), and homespun cloth (gyantse).

On the 28th news reached us that two of the Grand Lama’s physicians had
run away, another had gone mad, and the fourth was without hope or
ability to do anything more for the illustrious patient, who had had a
severe hemorrhage.

On the 31st the dreaded event took place, a letter was handed the
minister announcing the Grand Lama’s death. He had died on the day
previous at Tobgyal, or, as it is the custom to say, “He had left this
world for repose in the realm of bliss (Deva-chan).”

A notice was issued to the people to assume signs of mourning; the
women were forbidden to wear their headdresses or any other jewellery,
and amusements and ornamenting of houses were prohibited. The people
showed signs of deep distress at the untimely death of the Panchen;
some attributing it to the sorrow he had felt at the disloyalty of his
people, others said he had left this world on account of the
discourtesy of the Dalai lama in not inviting him to his consecration.

At Dongtse, where I was, the minister was having performed as a
termination to the ceremonies attending the consecration of the new
building, a grand religious dance in the courtyard of the Choide. A
great crowd, all in their holiday attire, was assembled on the roofs
and balconies of the temple. The dance had but commenced; the
minister’s page, who impersonated the herald of the gods, had twice
fired off a gun, and had proclaimed the arrival of the four guardian
deities of the world; the devils and goblins had gone through their
part of the performance, when the news of the death of the Grand Lama
was made known to the minister. At once the dance was stopped, and the
dancers and the crowd rapidly dispersed.

On September 3 it was reported to me that the Chinese commander of
Shigatse had flogged several of the Grand Lama’s servants for not
having told him of the gravity of their master’s illness. One of the
physicians of the Panchen had been severely beaten, and the other
medical attendant was found dead shortly after the Grand Lama had
breathed his last. I thanked God I had not consented to the minister’s
proposal to go and attend the Grand Lama!

On the 6th Ugyen returned to Dongtse from his trip to Sakya, and from
his journal I take the following facts, which may be of interest:—

He had started, as previously stated, on July 21, and on the 23rd
crossed to the left bank of the Tsang-po near Tashi-gang, and camped in
the valley of Tang-pe. Thence he and his companion, a Mongol lama by
the name of Chos-tashi, went to the Tanag district, where a fine
quality of pottery is manufactured. [334] They could not get lodgings
anywhere, so afraid were the people that they might introduce small-pox
among them, coming as they did from the infected city of Shigatse.

On July 26 they crossed the Tanag Tong chu by an iron suspension
bridge, and, travelling westward, stopped for the night in the lamasery
of Tubdan. Leaving Tubdan on the 28th, the travellers reached, after a
march of twelve miles in a northerly direction, the famous hot springs
of Burchu-tsan. A circular wall of stone encloses a portion of the
springs, and here the Grand Lama takes his baths. The place where he
camps is surrounded by a low turf wall. The Grand Lama had recently
taken the baths, but it was supposed that the water gods (or nagas) had
in some way or other been offended, as the water had but aggravated his
complaint. To propitiate these lu a hundred lamas had been employed
here until within a few days conducting religious services. In and near
these springs are numerous black snakes which, though they are said to
be venomous, do no harm to either man or beast. They enter houses in
the neighbouring villages, but no one ever thinks of hurting them.

The next day they crossed the Jeh la and stopped for the night at the
village of Keshong, but again they could not get lodgings. On the 30th
they reached the old village of Shendar ding, [335] near which is
situated the famous Bonbo monastery of Rigyal Shendar. Ugyen visited
this lamasery the following day, and represented himself as a Bonbo
from Sikkim on a pilgrimage to the sanctuaries of Bonbo Shenrab mivo,
the chief deity of this religion. He expressed a desire to give a
general tea (mang ja) to the monks, presented the manager five tanka
for the purpose, and it was arranged that the entertainment should take
place on the morrow.

In the mean time he was shown about the temple. In the congregation
hall the priests were reading the Bonbo scriptures. In the chapel of
the upper story he noticed among the images of the various gods of the
Bon pantheon that of Sakya Buddha.

The next day the mang ja took place. There were about thirty monks
(dabas) present, [336] and, on inquiring why there were so few, Ugyen
was told that a large number of monks who are natives of Khams Gyarong
had gone to the Chang-tang [337] to look to the interests of the Bon
church there.

Ugyen, in company with the head priest (om-dse), then visited the
gloomy chapels of the monastery, only lighted by torches and butter-fed
lamps, where he saw a number of curious pictures and tapestries on
which were represented various terrifying gods. After this he was
presented to the high priest, Je Khädub rinpoche, who received him most
kindly. He was a man of sixty-eight years of age, but strong and
hearty. He explained to Ugyen various points of the “black water”
(chab-nag) mysteries of Bonism, and lent him some books to read, a
number of which Ugyen made copies of. [338]

The Rigyal Sendar monastery is said to have been erected on the site of
an ancient Bon temple, called Darding sergo tamo, and was built several
hundred years before Tashilhunpo; and was sacked by the Jungar Mongols
in the 17th century. When they demolished the chapel, the Bon high
priest hurriedly concealed the sacred treasures and scriptures, written
in silver on dark blue tablets, in the deep recesses of a cavern, and
hence the sacred writings of the Bonbo are now in a confused state. The
church furniture and other requisites of worship in the monastery are
extremely ancient. Among them are the huge tambourines (shang), and
gigantic cymbals made of the finest bell-metal, paintings representing
the Seven Heroic Saints (Pao-rab dun), numerous old tapestries, and
several volumes of scriptures written in silver and gold on thick
dark-blue (card) boards. The roof of the great hall of congregation is
supported by forty-two pillars, six feet apart, and all around the
monastery are fine-looking chorten, mendong, and cairns, which visitors
are allowed to circumambulate from right to left, instead of from left
to right, as do Buddhists. When questioned respecting the reason for
this custom, the priests replied that salutation, circumambulation, and
the chanting of mantra being intended by the sages as processes to
sanctify the body, speech, and mind, they did not at all benefit the
divinity. It is, therefore, immaterial how and which way one salutes
and circumambulates the sacred things, but it is the established usage
of the Bon community to circulate from right to left. [339]

The Bon monastery of Shendar is now in the joint possession of the four
powerful members of the family of Shen-tsang. Though they are laymen,
having wives and children, yet being the descendants of Shenrab Mivo,
the illustrious founder of the Bon religion, they are venerated as
lamas. The mother of the two leading members of this family was the
elder sister of Sikyong, the late Rajah of Sikkim. The late Panchen
rinpoche was the nephew of these brothers, in consequence of which they
are addressed by the people as Ku-shang, “Royal Maternal Uncle.” The
late Grand Lama was of pure Bonbo stock, and the two families from
which he sprang are known by the names of Shen-lug and Tu-lug. People
inquire with wonder why the vice-regent of Buddha in the flesh should
have been born in the family of Shenrab Mivo, the heretic. Some
disaffected Tibetans were even in the habit of ridiculing this Grand
Lama by calling him the offspring of Bon heretics.

In the monastery are two sections of monks, called respectively the
Tibetan Association (Bod kham-tsan) and the Khams Association (Khamba
kham-tsan), the latter being the most numerous. The officers consist of
one priest for the grand congregation (Om-dse), two discipliners
(Chos-tims), two church directors (Gekhor), two general managers
(Chi-nyer), and two chapel-keepers (Ku-nyer).

While conducting service the monks dress like the Gelugpa monks of
Tashilhunpo. They wear tall mitre-shaped yellow caps, and a yellow
cloak covering the bodies. The ordained monks hang the chab-lug, or
badge of celibacy, [340] from their waist-bands like the Buddhist
monks, and wear red serge boots. They are not allowed to wear anything
that is blue, green, black, or white. During their residence at the
monastery they wear the church costume, composed of the sham-tab and
tongu, [341] and red boots made according to the Bon fashion. When they
enter the congregation hall for service they leave their boots at the
door. The cost of the tea drunk during the services is borne for the
most part by the Shen-tsang family. The monastery is maintained by a
small endowment, supplemented by the donations and subscriptions paid
by the Bon community of Chang. [342]

The monks of the Khams Association, numbering about forty, go annually
during the summer to conduct religious services in the houses of the
Bon people of Chang. In the winter they remain in the monastery. During
divine service the monks are allowed to drink as much tea as they like,
there being no restriction in this respect, as in the great Buddhist
monasteries.

The lamas here are divided into two sects, which differ slightly in
their vows. In the one called Shen-tang srung-lug, a man may take vows
when sixty years of age; while in the other, called Shen-tsang lug, he
must take the vows of abstinence and piety as soon as he has finished
his final clerical examinations. The high priest, or Je Kadub rinpoche,
Yung-drung gyal-tsan by name, administers vows and ordains monks.

The rules of moral discipline, called tsa-yig, written on a broad sheet
of pasted daphne paper, are posted in a conspicuous position in the
monastery. When an ordained monk is found guilty of violating these
rules, and particularly those of chastity, he is immediately punished
and expelled from the monastery. Such punishments are, however,
commutable into fines, such as the payments of money to the lama who
ordained him, and providing entertainment and presents for the other
monastic authorities and the members of the congregation.

The marriage ceremonies of the Bonbo are the same as those of all other
Tibetans; so also the funeral rites, although some communities throw
their dead into rivers and lakes. [343] After death the body is kept in
the house twenty-four hours, after which it is removed to the temple or
monastery. On the fourth day the ornaments and clothes worn by the
deceased are placed before the gods, and prayers offered to them to
take charge of his soul. At the end of the ceremony the corpse is
removed to the cemetery, where it is cut into pieces to be devoured by
vultures and dogs. [344]

Ugyen left Shendar ding on August 5, and stopped at noon at the hot
springs of Langpag, where the Tashi lama has a temple-like house in
charge of an officer. The water is so hot that meat can be cooked in it
in half an hour.

Proceeding thence they came to Non chu, where he saw the Non chu lama
rinpoche, who made many inquiries about Calcutta, the railways,
telegraphs, and telephones of which he had heard travellers speak. He
himself, he said, had invented a telephone, and was just then engaged
in making a new instrument with which he would be able to communicate
with people at a distance by means of strokes of a hammer. [345] He was
also most curious to know about illuminating gas.

The next day Ugyen again called on the lama, who asked many questions
about the resources of India, its government, commerce, laws, etc., and
as Ugyen replied he noted down all he heard.

Taking leave of the lama the same day, the travellers reached Rag-tso
ferry, where they crossed the Tsang-po in a rudely constructed boat, in
which men and animals were ferried across. They halted for the night at
Tondub ling, in the district of Jerong. They were unable to gain
admittance to any house, and had to pass the night in a sheepfold.

The next day they came to Phuntso ling, where there is a lamasery with
five hundred inmates. This was formerly the seat of the Taranath lama,
and from here he went to Urga in Mongolia. Ugyen visited the cave where
Taranath once lived as an ascetic. He also saw the printing-house of
the Phuntso ling lamasery, which contained printing blocks for many
valuable historical works.

Two roads lead to Sakya from this place, one viâ Tondub ling, the other
by way of Lhartse. The travellers followed the latter, which is the
shortest, arriving at Lhartse on August 10. Shakar djong, [346] Ugyen
learnt, can be reached from Lhartse in a day. The monks of Shakar are
noted for their wealth, much of which is acquired by buying gold.

Lhartse castle (djong) is on a fine eminence overlooking the Tsang-po.
It is the chief place of trade of Upper Tsang. Its monastery used to
contain one thousand lamas, but now the number is considerably smaller.
Some distance from Lhartse is the famous monastery of Namring, whose
monks are noted for their great learning.

Proceeding by way of Tana and Lasa, Ugyen and his companions reached
Sakya on the 14th, and put up in a house belonging to the chief of the
ulag department. There is a good market in this town, but with the
exception of meat, all articles of food are dearer than at Shigatse. No
good tsamba could be bought, and straw and hay were very dear, a tanka
for a basketful of not over five pounds weight.

Sakya is a notorious place for thieves and all kinds of bad characters,
and the cattle have to be locked up at night in the stables and
sheep-pens.

The next day, being the anniversary of the birth of Peme Chyungnas
(Padma Sambhava), a grand religions dance took place in the courtyard
of the temple, in the presence of the five surviving members of the
royal Khon family of Sakya, who sat on chairs on a raised daïs under a
large Chinese umbrella, with attendants carrying the gyal-tsan or
banners, and the sceptre.

Eighty gaudily dressed dancers (chyampa) danced the day long to the
music of clarionets, trumpets, kettle-drums, tambourines, and cymbals,
stopping only occasionally to partake of tea. When they finally stopped
they carried off with them on their shoulders quantities of khatag
flung to them by the audience.

This dance, called the “club dance” (phurpai kil chyam), was performed
in celebration of the birth, from a lotus flower in the lake of
Dhanakosha, of the sage Uddayani. Two Timpon and a dozen policemen kept
the great crowd in order with their whips.

When the ceremony of the day was over, the heir apparent of the Sakya
Panchen took his seat in the maidan in front of the great temple, and
gave his blessing (chyag wang) to all who approached. Ugyen visited the
same day the famous library, where he saw many manuscripts written in
gold, the pages some six to eight feet long and three or four feet
broad. [347] On the board which covered these volumes were painted in
gold and silver the images of innumerable Buddhas. There were also many
books in Chinese, dating back to the early years of the Christian era.

The next day another kind of dance, called the dsa-nag, or “black hat”
dance, was performed in the court of the residence of Gong-sa. There
were about eighty dancers. Seventy kept up the dance continually, while
the ten remaining took refreshments. They danced with much grace, the
movements of their arms and hands being especially curious.

On August 17 Ugyen left Sakya, and travelling by way of Lhadong,
Shong-mar-tse, the Pa la and Chiblung, reached Dobta on the 20th. [348]
This latter locality he found very poor, the people living in great
squalor. The country is rocky and barren, yet the peasants have to give
half the produce of their fields to the Sikkim Rajah.

Leaving Dobta, Ugyen came to the Tsomo tel-tung, or “Mule’s Drink
Lake,” which he went around, keeping it to his left, an heretical
action according to Buddhist ideas.

Stopping at Naring for the night, he then passed through Tagnag and
reached Targye on the 24th. [349] Near here is the Dora chu-tsan (“Hot
Springs”), in the neighbourhood of which he saw several carpet looms,
on which excellent rugs, called tum-shi, were being made by women, who
showed great taste in designing patterns.

Leaving Targye the travellers passed without any incidents through
Kurma, Kyoga, Labrang-dokpa, and Luguri Jong, [350] and reached
Shigatse about noon on August 29.

Ugyen remained at Shigatse for seven days, drying the plants he had
collected on his journey, and observing the different incidents which
took place after the death of the Grand Lama.

The day after the Grand Lama’s death, he and a friend had gone to
Tashilhunpo to perform their devotions, but were refused admittance. No
outsider was admitted into the lamasery, the inmates of which were now
not allowed to see any one or leave the monastery.

As they were coming back they passed in front of the palace of
Kun-khyab ling, and saw a large pack of hounds and mastiffs, which the
Panchen kept for hunting; for, though his sacred character forbade him
shooting animals, he could indulge in this other form of sport.

While in the palace of Phuntso phodang, the lama’s favourite residence,
and where they were allowed to enter, an officer from the Labrang
attached seals on everything belonging to the deceased, and on all the
doors of the principal rooms in Kun-khyab ling.

The next day there was a report that the lama had come to life again,
and every one was thanking the gods; the tsamba vendors on the
market-place were throwing handfuls of their ware heavenward as
offerings to the gods who had restored their Grand Lama to them.

The Dingpon of Shigatse said, in the hearing of Ugyen, that last year,
when the Government of Lhasa had consulted the oracle of Lhamo
sung-chyongma, it had foretold great calamities for Tibet. These were
inevitable, in view of the perversity of the people who no longer had
faith in the gods, but let themselves be led by demons in human shape.

Witchcraft was steadily increasing, he said, and in every village there
were those who said they were in communion with devils. An edict had
been issued forbidding witchcraft and fortune-telling. It was found
that under the castle of Shigatse itself there were fifteen witches
(paonal jorma). These had been brought to trial, and had been submitted
to an examination which required them to describe the contents of
several chests filled with a variety of things. Four alone were able to
answer, the others were flogged and then released on condition that
they should give up imposing on the public credulity and would furnish
bonds for their good behaviour.



CHAPTER IX.

FUNERAL OF THE PANCHEN RINPOCHE.—VISIT TO THE GREAT LAMASERY OF SAMYE
AND TO YARLUNG.


On September 19 the minister left Dongtse, and I despatched Ugyen once
more to the Rigyal Shendar monastery to obtain further information on
the Bonbos and their religion. I myself went to Gyantse, where I was
most kindly received by the Chyag-dso-pa and his family.

The Chyag-dso-pa of Gyantse has under his superintendence a large rug
and blanket factory in which about ninety women are kept constantly
employed, some picking the wool, some dyeing it, and others weaving.
The tso, or “dye plant,” grows in rocky soil and is collected by the
Dokpas. It supplies a beautiful yellow colour. The leaves only are used
in dyeing. [351]

The people employed in this factory are kept under the strictest
discipline. One day one of the women who was late beginning her work,
was whipped by order of the Chyag-dso-pa. A boy caught stealing wool
was also punished in the same way and imprisoned for a fortnight. I was
rather surprised at seeing the Chyag-dso-pa thus taking the law in his
own hands; but he told me that the Government allowed great landholders
like his master, the Shape Phala, judicial power over their own serfs.
I may here note that the pastoral tenants on this, and probably all
other estates, pay the owners every year two pounds of butter for every
she yak they own, and two pounds of wool for every sheep.

On September 25, corresponding to the 13th of the 8th moon, harvest
began. This day was selected as it was a very lucky one. All the people
turned out for the work, and I went to the roof of the castle to watch
the reapers. While working they sang hymns and offered the gods bunches
of barley, peas, and wheat, as first-fruit offerings.

Ugyen returned from his trip on the 1st of October.

On September 13 (25?), the day of the full moon, while he was still at
Shigatse, the dead Grand Lama was brought from Tob-gyal to Tashilhunpo.
First of all came a crowd of people on foot, followed by about a
hundred men on ponies. After these came the officials of Labrang,
followed by the chiefs, nobles, and high officials of Tsang, all on
horseback. Behind them was carried the sedan containing the remains of
his holiness, the Panchen rinpoche. The sedan was followed by the
Chinese garrison, consisting of fifty soldiers. The lamentations of the
people increased as the procession approached, and Ugyen said he cried
like a child. Some prayed loudly, looking towards heaven: “God and
saints ordain that our beloved protector (kyab-gong), may soon return
to this world for the good of all living beings.” No bells were rung,
and the procession passed on in solemn silence, all, laymen and monks,
dressed in dark red apparel, without any ornaments. When the procession
entered Tashilhunpo, the sedan chair was placed on the State altar, in
the Hall of Departed Saints. On the following day Ugyen went to make
his obeisance to the dead Lama. He found the body (ku-por) wrapped in
khatags, and placed in a sitting posture. It was very small, bearing no
proportion to the stature of the Lama when living. Ugyen was told that
this was the result of the embalmment. [352]

The same day the period of summer retirement (yar-nas) for monks came
to an end. It was observed as a holiday by the people: there was racing
and other sports, and all the people, lamas, men, women, and children
bathed together in the Nyang chu. The only sign of mourning still
observed this day was keeping the windows of the houses in town and at
Tashilhunpo shut.

On the 17th Ugyen reached Shendar ding, where he put up in the house of
a man whose wife had just been confined. A woman in Tibet, as in India,
is held to be unclean (kyedib) for a month after her confinement, at
the expiration of which time certain religious ceremonies are performed
for her purification.

Ugyen remained in this place until the 26th, and obtained from the high
priest of the lamasery much valuable information bearing on the
theology and history of the Bon religion. He also copied many valuable
works on these subjects, which were obligingly put at his disposal by
the lama. [353]

Having been prevented when at Lhasa, as previously narrated, from going
to the celebrated monastery of Samye, the most ancient and famous,
probably, of all Tibetan lamaseries, I now endeavoured to make
arrangements for this much longed-for trip. I sent Ugyen to Dongtse,
after his return from his trip to Shendar ding, to try and get a guide;
but he failed, as rumours had got abroad that I was a British employé,
and Phurchung was accused of having brought me into Tibet in violation
of the express orders of the Nepal Durbar.

In view of these disturbing rumours, I left Gyantse on October 4, and
returned to Tashilhunpo, where I was rejoined on the 13th by Phurchung,
who had been sent with letters to India in August.

I now decided to send Ugyen back to India with the botanical and other
collections he had made, while I would visit Samye, and the Lhokha
country south of it. He bought ten yaks for a hundred rupees, and pack
saddles, and engaged Lachung men to accompany him to Khamba djong. He
started on the 17th, while Phurchung and I returned to Gyantse,
arriving there on the 18th.

The people were now busy threshing their barley—cows, their muzzles
covered with wicker baskets, treaded it out, and were kept to their
work by two boys.

The Chyag-dso-pa lent me a man to guide me to Samye and the south
country (Lhokha); his name was Gopon. He told me he was ready to start
at any time, for his brother (namdo pun, “joint brother”), as he called
him, had now returned from Shigatse, and he could leave his wife. These
two men had, though not related, one wife between them, and the three
of them got on very well together.

On October 21 I finally started for Samye, and followed, as far as the
ruined village of Ring-la, the high road to Lhasa I had travelled over
earlier in the year. There is but one family now living in this once
prosperous place. These poor people earn a precarious livelihood by
making pottery. A concave wooden pan is used for the purpose, in which
the pots are shaped with a piece of wood or the fingers, by turning the
pan or mould around with the hand. This is the usual method employed in
Tibet.

Leaving Ring-la, we travelled through the fine pasture-lands adjoining
the Yamdo tso, and over desolate highlands with an occasional stump of
a juniper or cedar tree, till we reached the village of Ta-lung,
famous, as its name implies, [354] for the number and breed of its
ponies. Around the village the land is cultivated, and showed evidence
of great industry on the part of the people.

We at first failed to secure a night’s lodgings in any of the houses of
the village, for the people took us for Lhopa or Bhutia, of whom they
stand in great dread, as they frequently make raids on this district;
but we were so fortunate in the end as to secure the good-will of a
lama of the monastery, who got a friend of his to admit us to his
house.

The next day (October 24) we resumed our journey by daylight, and
crossing the Shandung chu bay of Lake Yamdo, followed along the base of
the steep hills which overhang its shores. We got sight, on the way, of
the Chong-khor monastery, [355] from which come all the amchi lhamo
dancers and mimes, [356] some of whom annually visit Darjiling. Passing
the Rivotag river some eight miles north of the Djong of the same name,
we ascended a ridge, from the top of which we saw the villages of
Yurupe, Ke-utag, and Khyunpodo. The country was everywhere thinly
populated; but large numbers of yaks, donkeys, sheep, and goats were
grazing about.

We stopped at the village of Shari, prettily situated between the Yamdo
and a little sweet-water lakelet, and put up in the mani lha khang, the
centre of which was taken up by a great prayer-wheel about six feet
high and three feet in diameter. An old man lived here whose sole
occupation was to turn the wheel.

The next morning we crossed a low hill, the Kabu la, and, skirting the
northern extremity of the Rombuja lake, reached by eleven o’clock the
village of Melung, [357] thus called from the fire (me) stones found in
the valley (lung) in which it is situated.

After a short halt at Melung, we resumed our march, the country opening
a little as we advanced, and villages and hamlets becoming more
numerous. That night we stopped at Khamedo, where there live about a
hundred families.

We were off by sunrise, and passing some distance to the north of the
large village of Ling, [358] where the Djongpon of the Yamdo district
reside, we soon after found ourselves in the broad pasture-lands of
Karmoling, here some ten miles broad, where hundreds of ponies,
belonging to the Lhasa Government, were seen grazing.

We ate our breakfast at Shabshi, and then, passing through the hamlet
of Tanta, [359] we began the ascent of the Tib la, which marks in this
direction the boundary between the Yamdo and Lhokha districts, and from
the top of which I had a magnificent view of the whole lake country,
the like of which I have seen nowhere in the Himalayas.

The difficulties attending the descent of the Tib la were infinitely
greater than those of the ascent, and the violence of the wind made it
difficult even to stand erect. By five o’clock we reached the village
of Tib, where there are about ten houses, around which grow a few
stunted willows. The villagers were busy treading out their harvest
with their cattle, and their merry songs, wafted by the night wind,
fell pleasantly on my ears till I dropped asleep.

Tib is under the authority of the Gongkhar Djongpon, who, with his two
lama assistants, or Tse-dung, usually resides in the neighbouring town
of Tosnam-gyaling.

October 27.—Our road led us down the course of the Tib chu. The valley
was covered with willows (here called nyamyam shing, or “mourning
trees”), cypresses, junipers, and a species of silver fir, and though
the way was stony, it was pleasant on account of the forest growth
through which it led.

We reached Tos nam-gyaling djong [360] early in the afternoon. This
place is celebrated for the serge and broadcloth manufactured here. The
Tib chu, as it flowed through the town between low banks covered with
flowers, and the tall poplars and walnut trees surrounding the high,
well-built houses, gave this place a most attractive appearance. We met
here a party of Horba [361] with a caravan of yaks laden with salt,
which they had brought from the north for sale in this country.

Before reaching the town we passed by the little nunnery of Peru, and
shortly after leaving it we came to the large lamasery of Toi Suduling,
with about five hundred monks of the Gelugpa sect.

We stopped for the night at Khede-sho, [362] a small town with two
castles, and situated near the Tsang-po. The town looks like a
fortress, with its old-fashioned solid houses, its narrow streets, the
Dombu choskhor, or lamasery, with encircling walls painted blue and
red, and an old monastery on top of the hill commanding the town.

It seemed to be a prosperous place; there were flower gardens and
groves of trees, and in nearly every window and doorway flowers were
growing in pots. Two Nyerpa are stationed here, who administer the town
and supervise the manufacture of serge and cloth for the Dalai lama and
Panchen rinpoche.

The next morning we passed through two miles of soft sand, and finally
came to the mighty Tsang-po, and after much shouting to the boatmen on
the farther side to bring over their junk (shanpa), [363] and after a
couple of hours waiting in the cold and fog, it came slowly across,
rowed by three women and two men, who sang lustily as they pulled.

The river is here about half a mile broad, very deep, but with a
sluggish current. We were soon landed at the Dorje-tag ghat, where we
paid a tanka for each of our ponies, and five karma (or two annas) for
each man as ferry charges. The ferry belongs to the Dorje-tag lamasery
near by, one of the oldest and holiest of the Nyingma sect. The
incarnate lama who rules this lamasery died about a year and a half
ago, but he has reappeared recently in the flesh at Darchendo. [364]
This convent is at the foot of a range of hills which stretches along
the river to beyond Samye, and a large grove extends from near it to
the high road.

We stopped for tiffin on the river bank, where I noticed the ground
covered with fish-bones and shells. Gopon told me that all the small
fry which the people of this country catch are used to manure the
fields with, as they are too bony to eat.

Gopon, who, by the way, was a most loquacious fellow, told me while we
drank our tea that when a new-born child dies in this country the body
is packed in an earthenware jar or wooden box, and is thus kept in the
storeroom, or hung from the ceiling of its parents’ house. [365] In
Upper Tibet the body is usually kept on the roof with a little turret
built over it; though the people who cannot afford to do this keep it
also hung from the ceiling, the face turned upwards.

The road now led over sand hillocks and spurs of rock, in some places
close to the edge of the river, where great care was necessary in
getting the ponies along.

We stopped at Tag, behind which rise the forest-covered mountains, and
where we got quarters in a fine new house, and were made most
comfortable by the owners.

The next day we were off before sunrise, and after a few miles through
heavy sand, came to Songkar [366] with about two hundred houses, and
around which grow walnut, willow, peach, poplar, and other varieties of
trees. It is said that Prince Lhawang, son of King Me agtsoms, was
drowned here, and the king, furious at the river gods for having caused
the death of his heir, ordered the river to be whipped. The nagas were
terrified when they learnt the order, and repairing to the king, told
him that if he would forbear, they would show him many good omens. ’Tis
for this that this place is also called Songkar (or Zungkhar) lha-tag,
or “Zungkhar of the gods’ omens.”

Near the village passes the road to Lhasa by the Songkar la and Dechen,
[367] over which a great deal of timber is carried on yaks to Dechen
and thence by boat to Lhasa.

From Songkar to Samye most of the way is over a great sandy plain
called Nagshu chyema, [368] which stretches from the base of the rugged
Lomda hills to the Tsang-po. Reaching the top of a low hill, Samye
stood before me, its gilded domes glittering in the sun, and the
hillock of Haboi ri rising amidst the sands to the south of the great
monastery.

Passing under some willow trees growing through the sand just outside
the lamasery walls, we entered by the southern gate, over which was a
chorten made somewhat in the shape of a dorje. [369] The guide led us
to the house of the mother of the Om-dse (head priest), and we were
most hospitably received by the old lady, who gave us her oratory to
lodge in. Before the rooms assigned us was a little flower patch, and
other plants were growing here and there in pots. There were also two
singing-birds in cages.

Tung-ma, our hostess, was a fine-looking old lady of about sixty years
of age. She wore as a necklace a number of silver ornaments and charm
boxes set with turquoises. Her head-dress differed from any I had seen,
being in shape like a pointed cap. [370]

Phurchung was delighted with Samye; he had not only reached the holiest
of Tibetan sanctuaries, but a place where chang was extraordinarily
good and cheap; what more could he ask for?

After taking tea I went with my two companions to visit the chief
temple of Wu-tse (Amitabha). I inquired of the beadle (ku-nyer) the
whereabouts of the celebrated library with the famous Indian books
which Atisha had found here when he came to this monastery eight
hundred years ago. I was told, to my great disappointment, that “for
our sins the great library was destroyed by fire about sixty years ago,
and there are at present but modern reprints in it.”

In the great congregation hall the Dalai lama’s throne occupies the
north-eastern corner of the chapel of the Jo-vo. Near this latter is an
image representing the first Dalai and statues of the principal
disciples of the Buddha.

In the second story of this building are images of Tsepamed (Amitayus)
and of the historic Buddha, besides many others of minor interest. In
the third or upper story are images of the three Buddhas of the present
cycle. From this story I had a splendid view of the Tsang-po, which is
very wide here.

On the wall surrounding the Wu-tse temple are painted various
mythological and historical scenes, also pictures of the principal
sanctuaries of Tibet. [371] The monks attached to the temple live close
by in a two-storied building.

The next day (October 30) I visited the four ling, or minor temples
built around the Wu-tse, and the eight ling-ten or lesser shrines. In
some of the smaller chapels were life-size images of Indian sages who
had visited Tibet in the early ages of Buddhism in this country, and
these images are said to have been made by Hindu artists. I also
noticed growing in some of the court-yards some stunted bamboos and
Indian shrubs.

After visiting the white chorten, we went outside the temple walls to
see the chapel built by the wives of King Tisrong detsan, which
resembles in style the Wu-tse, though much smaller than it.

We made an excursion the next day to the famous cave called Chim phug,
where Padma Sambhava and other worthies gave themselves up for a period
to abstraction.

We passed through the village of Samye, in which there are probably a
thousand people and a few Chinese and Nepalese shops, and then for a
few miles travelled through cultivated fields, with here and there a
little village, till we came to the foot of the Chim phug hill. The
range of which it forms a part is a thousand feet or so high, well
covered with fine timber, and inhabited, so some of the numerous
woodcutters we met told us, by wild goats, sheep, deer, and snow
leopards.

We reached the temple before noon. It is a two-storied, flat-roofed
building built on the rock. In the rock underneath the temple there is
a fissure about fifteen feet long and six feet broad, and varying in
height from three to six feet. In this there is a little chapel where
the image of Padma Sambhava, flanked by two female attendants, is to be
seen. In the building above are images of a host of deities and saints,
as also that of King Tisrong. The books I looked at in the temple
belonged to the Nyingma sect, and were of no special interest.

Leaving Chim phug after a couple of hours’ rest, we returned to Samye
by another road, passing three little temples, or rather hermitages,
where Indian pundits are said to have lived in times of yore. Flocks of
pigeons were hovering about them, and walnut and willow trees grew
around, giving them a peaceful and secluded appearance.

The sands are slowly but surely burying Samye, and a large portion of
the town, including some of the temples, is already lost under them.
There is a prophecy attributed to Padma Sambhava, to the effect that
Samye will be engulfed in the sands, and it is in a fair way of being
accomplished.

November 1.—I again visited the Wu-tse. The principal room in the gong
khang (upper hall) is full of all kinds of weapons and armour sacred to
the gods, protectors of religion (Dharmapalas). In the beautiful temple
of Behor and Noijinhamara [372] is a room called the wu-khang, where
the breath of the dying is kept in a jar specially consecrated to this
purpose. [373]

A few notes on the famous lamasery of Samye and Padma Sambhava find
place here.

The temple was built by King Tisrong detsan, whose capital was on the
hill of Haboi-ri, just south of where Samye now stands, at the
suggestion of the Indian sage Santa Rakshita, and with the assistance
of Padma Sambhava, the originator of monasticism in Tibet. [374] It was
a copy of the great temple of Odantapura in Central India. Its three
stories were each in a different style of architecture, one Tibetan,
another Indian, and the third Chinese: so it was after a while given
the name of San-yang or “three styles,” which in Tibetan is pronounced
Samye, [375] though it was originally named Mi-gyur lhun-grub
Tsug-lha-khang, “the temple of the unalterable mass of perfection.”

Both Santa Rakshita and Padma Sambhava were unable, on account of the
open hostility of the Bonbo, to remain long in Tibet. It is said by
some that the latter sage remained there six years, others make his
sojourn there eighteen years, after which he returned to India; but,
however long he stayed, he firmly implanted mysticism in Tibet.

King Tisrong gathered together at Samye sacred images and treasures
from India and the borderlands of China; but of all the collections
made here the most valuable was the great library of Indian works, of
which Atisha, who visited Samye in the eleventh century, said that
there were more Indian books here than in the great Indian convents of
Buddhagaya, Vikramashila, and Odantapura united.

Samye has experienced, since the days of its foundation, many
vicissitudes: it was partly destroyed by King Langdharma, [376] and
again later on by other followers of the old religion. Then it was
partially destroyed by an earthquake, in 1749 (?), and in 1808 (?) the
Wu-tse itself was destroyed by fire. [377] To rebuild it the people of
Tibet gave a hundred thousand ounces of silver, and the Shape Shada
Dondub dorje, who had charge of the works, occupied five hundred
workmen for seven years in reconstructing the temple. Again, in 1850,
an earthquake caused great damage to the temple, the dome fell in and
the frescoes, floors, etc., were irreparably injured. But the damage
was again repaired by means of public subscriptions and grants from the
State, amounting together to about 175,000 ounces of silver in value.
[378]

On November 2 I left Samye for a visit to Yarlung, the early home of
the first Tibetan kings, if tradition is to be believed.

The road we followed led eastward, over a sandy plain and by numerous
villages, the most important of which was Do, until we reached
Taga-sho, around which were many walnut (taga), peach, plum, poplar,
and willow trees, all planted with great regularity. [379] Here we put
up, in the house of a friend of our guide, who himself was from the
neighbouring village of Do.

I was pleased to find mutton selling here at a very low price, a result
of the presence of a party of Hor Dokpa from Radeng, [380] who had
brought large quantities of salt, wool, and meat. Their yaks were the
largest I have seen in Tibet.

Leaving Taga-sho the next morning, we passed by the ruins of
Tagkar-sho, probably at one time the residence of the kings of the
Phag-modu dynasty, who derive their name probably from a village near
by still called Phagmodu. [381] Near this place, in a commanding
position, is the lamasery of Nari ta-tsang, founded by the Dalai lama
Gedun-gyatso.

At the village of Jong [382] we began the ascent of the steep hill on
whose summit is the old lamasery of Densa-til, the principal building
nestled amidst frowning crags, on which grow here and there a few firs
and juniper trees. In the adjacent cliffs were numerous caves for
recluses.

This temple differs somewhat from all other buildings of this kind I
have seen in Tibet, the plan of it approaching rather that of a modern
public building in Bengal. I noticed here eighteen beautiful silver and
copper chorten, the finest specimens of such metal work I have seen.
Six tablets of gold, each six feet long and six inches broad, hung from
the ceiling, besides six piles of similar but smaller tablets in a
corner.

Of all the monasteries in Tibet, this is perhaps the richest in
religious treasures, [383] and the Government of Lhasa takes particular
care of it. Among the curious objects placed before the images of the
gods in the principal temple, I saw some bowls filled with various
kinds of seed and some fossils, among which some grains of barley.

The next day we resumed our journey. The road at first led through a
forest said to have sprung from the hairs of Je Phagmodu, the founder
of the Densa-til lamasery. [384]

All the way to Samdub phodang, the capital of the Phagmodu kings, was a
gentle descent over gravel and mica-schist rock. Crossing a fine wooden
bridge about fifty yards long, with railings running along either side,
we found ourselves in the principal street of the town, in which a
large number of Dokpa traders were camped under some walnut trees.

The three-storied castle, once a royal residence, is now occupied by
the Djongpon and the two Tsedung from Lhasa. Samdub phodang is now a
gon-shi, or “Crown Demesne” of Lhasa.

A few miles beyond this town we came to the Sangri khamar lamasery,
[385] situated on a beautiful eminence overlooking the Tsang-po, whose
surface is broken here by huge masses of rock. Around the great
lamasery stretched broad fields of barley, now ripe for the sickle, and
the beauty of the crops surpassed anything I have ever seen in Tibet.

Here at Sangri khamar once lived Saint Machig labdron, [386] an
incarnation of Arya Tara. I visited the cell she lived in, and saw her
tomb and an image of her. There are now two ascetics living here, who
have made vows never to come out nor to speak a word so long as they
live. When I approached them they smiled and seemed pleased with the
little present I made them. The beadle who accompanied me said they had
been immured in their cells for ten years.

Resuming our journey, we passed by Sangri Jong, and following a narrow
path, scarcely a yard wide, overhanging the eddying river, reached
Logang ferry; [387] but, though we shouted for an hour to the boatmen
on the other side, we could not get them to come over for us, so we had
to return to the village of Jong at the western base of the Densa-til
mountain. Here we got lodgings for the night in the house of the
headman.

November 5.—A little before dawn we left Jong and made for the Nango
[388] ferry. There is an iron suspension bridge at this place, but it
is so much out of repair that it cannot be crossed over, and we were
ferried across in a large boat, together with a number of traders and
their donkeys. The river is very narrow here, scarcely a hundred yards
in breadth. Passing through the village of Khyungar we entered
Tse-tang, [389] the capital of Yarlung, and formerly a place of great
importance. Our guide procured lodgings for us in the house of a woman
whose husband, a Kashmiri, had died a year or so before and who was now
living alone with her husband’s son. The Kache (Kashmiri) received us
very kindly, but after a short conversation with me he became
alarmingly suspicious of my true character, and kept continually
turning the conversation to the Saheb-logs (“Englishmen”) he had known
at Katmandu, and the greatness of the Engrez Maharani (“Queen of
England”). As often as he spoke of these subjects, so often did I
rejoin with some inquiry about Buddhism or a lamasery I wished to
visit.

I soon began to feel excessively nervous, and told my men that we had
better leave Tse-tang as soon as possible; but Phurchung assured me
that I need have no fear, that furthermore the ponies absolutely
required rest, so that we must stay here a few days.

The day after our arrival at Tse-tang I went on the roof of our house,
and was able to see a broad stretch of the surrounding country. To the
north of the town was the Gonpoi ri, one of the favourite resorts of
Shenrezig (Avalokiteswara), and where, according to tradition, the
monkey king and the goblin raised their family of monkeys, from which
ultimately descended the Tibetan race. [390]

There are four lamaseries around Tse-tang, and in the town are some
fifteen Nepalese, twenty Chinese, and ten Kashmiri shops, besides
native traders from all parts of Tibet. Mutton and butter were
abundant, but barley, though cheap, is of inferior quality.

I left Tse-tang on November 17 for a visit to the Yarlung valley and
its monuments.

A short distance to the south of Tse-tang we passed through Ne-dong
djong, where resides the Djongpon of this district, and which used to
be a royal city of the Phagmodu kings. Save the lamasery of Benja,
little remains but ruins to attest its past importance.

Following up the course of the Yarlung river, we came after a few miles
to the temple of Tandub, one of those said to have been built in the
seventh century by King Srong-btsan gambo, and to which a monastery was
later on added by Tisrong detsan. It is a copy, on a small scale, of
the Jo khang of Lhasa, and contains many objects of interest to the
pious pilgrim.

Three hours’ ride from Tandub brought us to Ombu lha-khang, [391] the
most ancient of Tibetan palaces. It is situated on the side of a range
of bare hills, and is about a hundred yards from the village of Ombu,
which derives its name from the number of ombu trees (tamarisks) which
grow around it. Ombu lha-khang, though it has temples and shrines, is
more properly a kind of memorial hall. The images in it are not those
of gods and saints, but of kings, nobles, and ministers. The building
itself is a curious mixture of the Indian and Tibetan styles of
architecture, and the interior arrangement of the rooms and their
decorations were unlike those of Tibetan buildings. The rooms, I may
add, all face eastward.

After taking our lunch under a tamarisk tree, we remounted our ponies
and rode on to Phodang djong, the most ancient town in Tibet. As all
the kings of the dynasty which sprang from this place bore the title of
Chos-gyal, or “Catholic majesty,” this town is also called Chos-gyal
phodang. The present chief of this place claims descent from this very
ancient line, but even his own people do not believe much in his
pretended genealogy.

A few miles over gently rising ground brought us by sunset to the top
of a hill, on which is situated the Tag-tsan bumba, or “Dome of Good
Omens.” [392] We were kindly received by the young monk in charge of
the shrine, who presented me with a basket of splendid white potatoes,
which vegetable he assured me had grown around this place from time
immemorial. [393]

November 8.—We left before daylight, and, crossing the Yarlung, reached
the Rachung lamasery on the top of a steep hill, where we gained
admittance after a good deal of trouble, the keeper being away and the
incarnate lama, Rachung, confined in a cell performing certain vows. A
little below the monastery we were shown the cave in which the original
Rachung, the greatest of Milaraspa’s disciples, dwelt for three years,
three months, and three days. [394]

We rested here for a while, and then went to the village of Rachung at
the foot of the hill, where we found good lodgings for the night in the
house of an old acquaintance of our guide, Gopon.

Formerly this broad valley of Yarlung, or Gondang-tangme, was covered
with innumerable populous villages, and in no other part of Tibet was
there such opulence. But one day the snows melting on the Yarlha-shampo
and torrential rains caused a mighty flood which submerged the whole
plain for many days. The villages were utterly destroyed, and the
people all perished, and when the waters had retired a deep deposit of
sand covered everything. In course of time the country was reclaimed,
and has now reached a certain degree of prosperity, but it has never
recovered its primitive flourishing state.

The next day we rode across the northern slope of the Shetag mountains,
or “Black Crystal” (Shel-tag), thus called from the glistening black
rocks exposed to view along the road, [395] and after a few miles came
to the great cemetery which adjoins the lamasery of Yarlung-shetag.
Phurchung and Gopon rolled themselves on the blood-stained stone slab,
on which corpses are cut up, and mumbled some mantra.

In this lamasery there live forty monks and as many nuns: [396] their
children are brought up to the professions of their parents. This
arrangement has been sanctioned by the Nyingma church, as the lamasery
was so lonely that no monks could be induced to reside in it till this
privilege was conceded them.

Beyond this lamasery the trail led along the edge of a precipice where
we passed a number of little cells occupied by hermits (or tsampa),
who, as we passed, stretched out their hands for alms through the
little opening left in the front of their dens. Some of these men had
been immured five years, and many of them had also made vows of
silence.

A little way beyond this point, and about 500 feet below the summit of
the hill, we reached the cell of Padma Sambhava, near which is a chapel
called the Upper Lha-khang of Shetag. The keeper led us to a heavy door
under a huge rock; unlocking it we entered the cavern, which is held
the most sacred shrine of the Nyingma sect. In it I saw a silver
reliquary in which is kept a silver image of the saint, representing
him as a boy of twelve. There was a plate before the image filled with
rings, earrings, turquoises, pieces of amber, gold and silver coins,
the offerings of pilgrims.

Passing the Shetag, we came to the village of Ze-khang shikha, and
thence by a gentle descent we reached the famed temple of Tsandan-yu
lha-khang, “the temple of sandal-wood and turquoise.” It was thus
called, it is said, because that its founder, King Srong-btsan gambo,
only used in building it sandal-wood, and that the blue tiles which
covered it were glazed with melted turquoises. [397] It is a rather
Chinese-looking structure, but one of the handsomest I have seen in
Tibet. Every month six monks come here from Tse-tang to hold service.

A very short distance to the west of this sanctuary is the Lha-bab-ri,
or “the mountain of the descent (of the king or god)” (lha having both
meanings), where the first king of Tibet, Nyakri-btsanpo, was seen for
the first time by Tibetans. There is a little plateau on this hill,
called the “King’s Plain,” or Btsan-tang, where a temple has been built
called the Btsan-tang lha-khang. [398]

Leaving this interesting spot behind, we rode on across the fields
which the peasants were ploughing and irrigating for the autumn crops,
and came, after a few hours, to the sanctuary of Gadan namgyal-ling,
where Tsongkhapa took his final vows of monkhood. It is a fine building
in the midst of a grove of trees, through which flows a brook.

From this point we retraced our steps to Tse-tang, which we reached the
same day, recrossing the Yarlung chu by a long stone bridge near the
monastery of Tse-chog-pa, where we saw a number of the monks bathing in
the river.

The Yarlung valley appeared to me to be a most prosperous one, the
people gentle and good-natured. The soil produces grain and fruit in
greater abundance than any other part of Tibet; chang, butter, meat,
oil, barley, wheat, and fuel were everywhere plentiful.

On November 10 we left Tse-tang, on the return journey to Tashilhunpo.

We forded the Yarlung river, in which there was but little water,
nearly all of it having been drawn off by irrigation ditches higher up
the valley, and passing to the villages of Yangta and Gyerpal, we came
to the old sanctuary of Yarlung, called the Chyasa lha-khang, or “the
resting-place-of-birds temple,” for the vast flocks of birds [399]
which pass here in their migrations make it a resting-place. It is
situated on the banks of the Tsang-po, and is a finely built and
well-kept edifice, with a courtyard and beautifully frescoed walls. The
image of Sakya Buddha in the temple is said to be made with an alloy of
gold, silver, copper, and iron.

Following the bank of the Tsang-po, through heavy sands or over low
hills, we came towards evening to Chincho-ling, a secluded and desolate
little hamlet, the houses surrounded by low walls of stone to keep off
the drifting sands, and here we put up for the night.

The next morning there was a heavy fog—quite a rare phenomenon in these
parts—when we started. We breakfasted at the little fisher village of
Dong-sho, [400] and a mile or so beyond this entered a well-cultivated
valley containing numerous villages and fine trees. Near the first
village we came to stands the monastery of Chongdu-chog. [401] We
reached, before evening, the famous Nying-ma lamasery of Mindol ling,
in a dale opening on the west side of the valley; a little below it is
a very large village, where we found, after some difficulty,
accommodation in the house of a well-to-do man.

The next day we visited the temple, which is very beautiful, though the
lamasery itself has never recovered from the pillage by the Jungars in
the seventeenth century; and the Nyingma [402] Church being at present,
moreover, persecuted by the dominant Gelugpa, no longer enjoys its
former wealth. The neatness of the stonework and the finish of all the
masonry about the temple were very remarkable, and the courtyard was
regularly paved with stone slabs.

To the south of the monastery is the residence of the abbot, who is
always selected from the Tertalingpa family, in which this office is
hereditary. [403]

I left Mindol-ling on November 12, returned to the Tsang-po, and
reached the village of Cho by dusk. Quite early the next morning we
entered Khede-sho, where our route joined that we had taken when going
to Samye.

We left Khede-sho by daylight the next morning, and continuing along
the bank of the Tsang-po, crossed the long meadow of Ding-naga, which
is covered with a fine, short, moss-like sod. Then passing through the
villages of Kyishong, Panza, and Gyatu-ling, we came to where the
Gonkhar mountains abut on the river. On their farther side is the town
of Gongkhar, [404] still surrounded by imposing, though ruined walls.
Here, after much difficulty, we managed to obtain shelter in the house
of a fisherman, who gave us leave to pass the night in a hovel half
filled with yak hides. He and his wife were very kind to us, and
looked, to the best of their ability, after our wants and those of our
ponies.

We resumed our journey at 4 in the morning, and pushed on slowly and
with considerable difficulty, for the path was over rocks, in places
overhanging the roaring river. At daybreak we passed by the village of
Shyati-ling, and shortly after the sun pierced the fog which had
enveloped us. A low col, called Yab la, was next passed, and we joined
the high-road between Lhasa and Shigatse, which I have previously
described. We stopped for the night at Tamalung.

The next day (November 16) we reached Palti djong.

On the 18th, a mile or so to the west of Oma-tang, where we had passed
the night, we fell in with the Chinese Amban and his train on their way
to Lhasa. First came numerous parties on horseback, then about three
hundred men on foot carrying all the paraphernalia common to Chinese
processions, and finally the Amban’s chair carried by Chinese and
sixteen Tibetans, the latter only holding strings attached to the poles
to show that they were assisting in the work. Two Chinese armed with
whips kept the way clear.

On November 24 I found myself once more at Tashilhunpo, and immediately
set to work to prepare for a trip to Sakya, from whence it was my
intention to proceed directly to India. A day or so after my arrival I
was delighted at the receipt of a passport from the new Shape of
Shigatse, permitting me to proceed to India and return to Tibet. It had
been obtained at the instance of my friend, the minister.



CHAPTER X.

VISIT TO SAKYA AND RETURN TO INDIA.


On November 30, 1882, I said farewell to Tashilhunpo, and, accompanied
by Phurchung and Gopon, my recent guide to Samye, I started for Sakya,
from which place I proposed returning to Darjiling by way of Khamba
djong and the Kongra lamo pass.

The country was now bare, the brown rocks, the gravelly soil, and the
distant snow-covered mountains, added additional bleakness to the
scene. We reached the village of Nartang the same evening, and were
kindly received by some old friends of Phurchung.

A little before daylight the next morning we set out, following the
great high-road which leads to Upper Tibet, instead of taking the
direct road which leads there by the Lang la, but which is infested by
highwaymen.

At the little hamlet of Chagri [405] we stopped to make some tea, and
had to pay three annas for a little water, as the people have to bring
all they use from a very considerable distance.

The wind was blowing violently when we resumed our journey, and the
dust was so thick that we had to stop at Ge-chung, a little village to
the west of the Singma la.

At daybreak we set out again, and after crossing the Re chu (here
called Shab chu), along whose banks are numerous hamlets, we came to
Lhimpotse, near which is a large lamasery built on a rocky eminence.
[406]

We stopped for the night at Samdong, just beyond which village is a
long wooden bridge. We got accommodation in the house of a rich
villager, the younger of the two husbands (and they not brothers) of
the woman of the house. The other husband was the headman, or Sa-yong,
and when he appeared, he obligingly sold us very good chang, mutton,
onions, and other vegetables.

December 3.—After drinking a cup of steaming chang [407] we set out,
and following the course of the Shab chu, came to where the Tsarong chu
empties into it, when we took up the course of this stream and followed
it to its source.

Several miles above the village of Sikya, where cultivation practically
ceases, we came to the large Dokpa village of Jig-kyong, where we
stopped for the night. In all the villages small-pox was raging, and
where the people were free from it, they showed great apprehension
about letting us in, lest we should introduce the dreaded disease among
them.

The next day (December 4) we crossed the Shong la, [408] which, though
quite high, was of easy ascent, and traversed the Tao valley. After
taking lunch at the Kham-yol we came to the Aton la, from whose summit
Sakya is visible, with all its red-walled buildings and gilded spires,
[409] bearing in a north-westerly direction.

We secured lodgings in a house in the town, near the bridge over the
Tom chu, and from the window of my room, which opened to the south, I
had a gorgeous view of the town by which the river gently flows; also
of the great temple, and beyond these, of the snow-covered peaks of
Tinki (Tingri) and Pherrug.

In the evening I strolled about the clean, though narrow streets, where
the market people were still busy selling their wares.

Sakya is built on the eastern flank of Ponpoi ri, along whose base
flows the Tom chu. Facing the town, but on the other side of the river,
is the Lha-khang chenpo with its famous library and temple.

The appearance of Sakya is different from that of most Tibetan towns.
The walls of almost all the public buildings, temples, and
dwelling-houses are painted red with a clay obtained from the
neighbouring hills. Black and blue stripes about nine inches broad cut
the walls perpendicularly. [410]

The four Labrang [411] temples, built with Chinese roofs and gilded
spires, are especially noticeable. They are called Labrang-shar (or
“eastern”), Labrang-nub (or “western”), Labrang khung, and Khansar
chenpo, and in their general arrangement they do not differ from the
temples I had seen at Tashilhunpo and elsewhere.

In the palmy days of the Sakya hierarchy there were four abbots under
the hierarch who ruled these four Labrang. The rank was hereditary in
their families, and all those abbots, the hierarch included, were
allowed to marry. This system of hereditary hierarchy was known as
dun-gyu. At the present time the abbots are Tantrik lamas from Khams. I
was told that neither the lamas nor the nuns of Sakya are held by the
people to be exceptionally virtuous, and, to tell the truth, the laity
of Sakya has a similar unsavoury reputation in Tibet.

The Emperor Kublai made the hierarch Phagpa ruler of Tibet, [412] and
it was the latter’s deputy (or Panchen [413]), Kunga zangbo, who began
building the Lha-khang chenpo of Sakya, which was completed by one of
his successors in office, Anglen tashi. This latter proved himself an
able and vigorous administrator, and annexed Tagpo to the Sakya
principality. Zangpo-pal, the then reigning hierarch, sent him on a
mission to the Emperor of China, Buyantu, [414] who granted to him and
his heirs in perpetuity the Yamdo lake country. The Sakya Panchen have,
down to the present time, been taken from this family. The last Sakya
Panchen, Kunga nyingpo, died on June 20, 1882; his tomb, at the time of
my visit to Sakya, was almost finished, and his wife was still wearing
mourning.

It is told of the late Sakya Panchen that, some sixteen years ago,
after the death of the two famous Dayan khanpo, the treasurer of the
Gadan gomba of Lhasa, when his wicked spirit was causing various dire
calamities to Tibet, every endeavour to expel it from the country
proved abortive. So finally the Government of Lhasa, at the suggestion
of the oracles, requested the Sakya Panchen to visit Lhasa to drive the
fiend away. At the foot of Mount Potala he had lighted a great fire,
and, by the potency of his charms, drove the evil spirit into a lay
figure prepared for the occasion, whereupon it fell straight-way into
the fire. Then the Panchen drove his charmed phurbu [415] into the
image, but while so doing the flames of the pyre surrounded him, and
all thought he was dead; but lo! after an hour or so he came out of the
flames dressed in rich satins, and with not even so much as a hair of
his head scorched.

Panchen Jimed wang-gyal, or one of the other sons of the late Panchen,
will succeed him as ruler of Sakya. One son is an incarnate lama and
superior of the Tanag Donphug lamasery, [416] but he is obliged to
reside continually at Sakya on account of a rule which prescribes that
when the re-embodiment of a lama takes place in Sakya, the
reincarnation cannot return to the locality he occupied in his
preceding existence. The names of the four other sons of the deceased
Panchen will shortly be sent to Lhasa, and the Nachung oracle will
decide who shall become the ruler of the principality.

These princely lamas wear long hair, ordinarily plaited in two queues
hanging down their backs and tied at the ends with white cotton
handkerchiefs. Over their ears they wear covers of gold studded with
turquoises and emeralds, and almost reaching to their shoulders. To the
lower part of these are appended earrings. [417]

In the Lhakhang chenpo (or great temple) are five seats of equal
height, on which the princes take their places when conducting
religious services; the one reserved to the hierarch remains vacant so
long as the successor to the title has not been chosen.

Under the hierarch there is a Shape, or minister, who attends to all
the temporal affairs of Sakya. The monks are divided into two orders,
according to the locality of their birth; those from Tibet proper
forming one set ruled by a Gekor, and having their cells near the great
temple, and those from Khams (or Eastern Tibet), also with a Gekor over
them, who live in the town.

As to the great library of Sakya, it is on shelves along the walls of
the great hall of the Lhakhang chen-po. There are preserved here many
volumes written in gold letters; the pages are six feet long by
eighteen inches in breadth. On the margin of each page are
illuminations, and the first four volumes have in them pictures of the
thousand Buddhas. These books are bound with iron. They were prepared
under orders of the Emperor Kublai, and presented to Phag-pa on his
second visit to Peking.

There is also preserved in this temple a conch shell with whorls
turning from left to right, a present of Kublai to Phagpa. It is only
blown by the lamas when the request is accompanied by a present of
seven ounces of silver; but to blow it, or have it blown, is held to be
an act of great merit. [418]

On December 5 I left Sakya, and passing by the Choskhor-lhunpo
monastery, entered the broad Yalung valley, in which stands the big
village of Lora and numerous scattered hamlets. We stopped at Lora to
eat our breakfast, but so intense was the fear of the people of
small-pox, of which there were several cases in the village, that they
would have absolutely nothing to do with us, not even to sell us
firewood. [419]

After crossing the Yalung river we ascended the Dong la, from whose
summit we saw the Chomo kankar (Mt. Everest), and the endless ranges of
mountains which jut out from it westward. At the Dong la the Arun and
the Kosi have their sources.

The descent of the Dong la was very gradual, the country extremely
bare, not a single tree was to be seen anywhere. We reached Chu-sho, at
the foot of the pass, at about five o’clock, and it was only after much
persuasion that we gained admittance to a poor hut occupied by an old
woman and her son.

The next day we followed for a while the course of a little stream,
called the Chu-shu, and then came upon a broad, barren plain, on either
side of which rose bleak and lofty mountains.

Leaving the village of Map-ja, in which there are about one hundred
houses, we breakfasted at Donkar, and then made our way towards the
Shong-pa la, following up the course of the Shong chu. The ground in
many places was riddled with holes made by a burrowing animal called
srimong, [420] and our ponies had many tumbles by putting their feet in
them.

On descending from the Shong-pa la we found ourselves in the broad
Chib-lung valley, [421] and towards six o’clock we reached the village
of Dogang, and found shelter for the night in the hut of some poor
people.

The following morning we passed through Tashigong and breakfasted at
Gure, a village belonging to my friend the minister. Leaving this
place, we began the ascent of a high range which separated us from lake
Tel-tung, or “Mule’s Drink.” [422] This pass is known as the Dobta
Lachan la, and one commands from it a most gorgeous view of a wide
expanse of country, the Nepalese and Sikkimese Himalayas, with lake
Tel-tung and Dobta djong, belonging to the Sikkim Rajah, on a hillock
beside the lake in the foreground.

We stopped for the night at Chorka, a part of Dobta, where a villager
gave us the use of a yak-hair tent standing in his courtyard. We only
remained here a short while, leaving before daylight, as we wanted to
reach Khamba djong the same day. The cold was intense, and the violent
wind which blew made it more piercing. Our way led along the margin of
lake Tel-tung, now completely dried up and more resembling a broad
pasture land than a lake. The country was alive with game; wild sheep,
goats, and asses were specially numerous.

Leaving this broad plain, we entered the valley of the Che chu by a low
col between the Dobta and Yaru la ranges. Crossing the river, we
stopped for a while at Targye, [423] while Phurchung went on ahead to
Khamba djong to secure lodgings for us.

At five o’clock we reached the village of Khamba, and were received
most kindly by Phurchung’s friend, Wang-gyal, who, together with his
wife, did everything in their power to make us comfortable.

After tea I went with Phurchung, who had put on his best clothes for
the occasion, to visit the Djongpon. The Djong stands on a hillock, the
ascent of which is rather steep, and is made by flights of stone steps.
The fort is a spacious two-storied building, and is supplied with water
brought there through clay pipes from the mountains to the north, a
piece of work of which the people are not a little proud. [424]

The Djongpon were reading religious books when I entered their
presence, and the lama one asked me questions about myself and the
object of my journey, all of which I managed to answer satisfactorily.
I showed my passport, to which they put their seals, retaining a copy
of the document. When I left they presented me with a dried sheep’s
carcass, ten pounds of rice, and a rug, and expressed the hope that
they would see me again the following year.

On returning to our lodgings I hired two ponies and a yak-hair tent for
our use as far as Gen-pang tang.

We left early in the morning, after saying farewell to our faithful
guide Gopon, who left us here to return to his home at Gyantse, and
breakfasted at Geru. On the way we saw several flocks of wild sheep and
some foxes. Leaving Geru, we ascended, one after the other, the
foothills of the Kongra lamo pass, through a wild but beautiful
country, till we finally reached the snow-covered summit, near which we
camped on a bare rock. Thanks to the yak-hair tent and the good fire of
argols which Phurchung kept burning, we did not suffer from the intense
cold and piercing wind.

The following morning (December 10) we reached, at an early hour,
Gen-gang, which forms the boundary between the territories of the Grand
Lama and the Rajah of Sikkim, a vassal of the British Raj. From this
point my way lay through Sikkim by a route followed by various European
travellers, and concerning which I need say nothing here. I reached
Darjiling and my home on December 27, after an absence of over a year.



CHAPTER XI.

SOCIAL DIVISIONS—MARRIAGE—FUNERALS—MEDICINE—FESTIVALS.


In Tibet there are three distinct classes among the people, lay and
clerical, which are determined by birth and social position, and each
of these has three sub-divisions. [425] They are as follows:—

First, or highest class, Rab:—

1.—Rab-kyi rab. The king, members of the royal family, and incarnate
lamas who have appeared many times on earth.

2.—Rab-kyi ding. The Desi, or regent, ordinary incarnate lamas,
ministers and councillors of state, learned lamas, or abbots,
professors at important monasteries.

3.—Rab-kyi tama. Secretaries to the Government, Dahpon, Djongpon, and
inferior lamas, or abbots.

Middle classes, Ding:—

1.—Ding-kyi rab, or “upper middle class,” including families who have
for generations possessed great wealth, landlords who do not claim
descent from illustrious ministers or warriors; Dungkhor, old families
and men who have personally contributed in a marked degree to the
welfare of the country; and lastly, the Don-nyer.

2.—Ding-kyi ding. This class includes the Dung-yig, or clerks,
stewards, chamberlains, head grooms, head cooks, and other petty
officers.

3.—Ding-kyi tama. Soldiers and subjects. [426]

Lowest class, Tama:—

1.—Tamai rab. Grooms, menials engaged in domestic service, and other
hired servants.

2.—Tamai ding. Those who have no fixed homes, men who keep concubines,
but no wives, loose women, professional beggars, vagabonds, and
paupers.

3.—Tamai tama. The lowest of the low are butchers, scavengers,
disposers of dead bodies, blacksmiths, and goldsmiths.

In Tibet there are no caste restrictions with regard to marriage as in
India. The rich may bestow their daughters on the poor, the daughter of
a poor man may become the bride of the proudest noble of the country.
But the girls of the royal family and those of high rank are not
generally bestowed on the low classes; but in the event of their not
finding a suitable match, they are sent to convents. The daughters of
commoners do, however, occasionally become the wives of nobles.

The nuptial ceremonies are alike for all classes, the only difference
being in the amount of money expended in the festivities. In the first
place, the friends of the bridegroom employ a go-between to make the
first overtures to the parents or guardians of the girl. Should the
latter entertain the proposal, the parents of the would-be bridegroom
either take or send presents to them, consisting of khatag and wine
(called long chang, “proposal wine”), and formally make an offer of
marriage. The girl’s parents make excuses, saying that she is neither
handsome nor accomplished, and will be of no service to the suitor. The
go-betweens thereupon more and more earnestly press their suit. After
these conventional phrases have been exchanged, the girl’s parents say,
“If you are really in earnest, and believe that she will be of service
to you, we shall consult with our friends and relatives, and let you
know our decision.”

A few days later their consent to the union is formally conveyed to the
suitor’s parents, when the latter, taking with them twenty or thirty
gallons of wine, proceed to the home of the bride, where they entertain
not only all her relatives, but also the servants and neighbours, and
present each with a scarf. The purchase-money (rin) is then paid,
which, for the middle classes is usually five or six doche (625 to 750
rupees), and about fifty gallons of wine. Another scarf is then
presented to each of the elder members of the bride’s family, and also
to prominent persons among her friends and neighbours.

After an auspicious day has been fixed for the wedding, the parties
make the arrangements necessary for the occasion. On the appointed day
the bridegroom’s parents depute some seven or eight respectable men to
go as their representatives to bring home the bride. They remain at her
father’s house three days, during which they are engaged in making
negotiations and in assuring their hosts, by whom they are provided
during this period with all necessaries, that their daughter will be
happy in her new home. At the end of the three days the bride is told
by her parents to go to the bridegroom’s house. They give her a good
milch-cow or yak, a pony, four or five oxen, two suits of summer and
winter dress, a complete set of jewellery according to the custom of
the country, a piece of stuffed carpet and a small dining-table, cups,
plates, cooking vessels, and other articles for domestic use, fifty
ounces of silver, and a female attendant. All those who have received
scarves now come to present her in return with a scarf and a piece of
money. The nearest relatives and friends of the parents, the chief of
the country, and other people of position, present her with scarves,
clothes, blankets, etc., and silver coins.

Presently about twenty of the bridegroom’s friends arrive to conduct
the bride to her new home. For the first half of the journey the
arrangements are made and expenses defrayed by the bride’s parents; for
the second half by those of the bridegroom, and it is made on
horseback, the bride riding in the middle of the party. Arriving at
their destination, the bride is seated on a cushion placed on a raised
stand by the side of her husband in the middle of the bridal party. At
an auspicious hour a short religious service is performed by the
village lama, and the parents or sponsors of the parties offer prayers
for the happiness of the union. [427] The bridegroom’s parents then
beseech the gods to witness the ceremony of their son’s marriage, and
declare that henceforth the bride will be owned by the bridegroom and
his brothers alone. For three days the festivities continue, during
which time as much as fifty chupan of wine, three oxen, and three pigs
are sometimes consumed. The notables among the bridegroom’s friends
arrive with presents of scarves, and are entertained by his father.

On the third day the bride exchanges the clothes and jewellery she wore
on her arrival, for others supplied by the bridegroom. After a short
prayer to the gods the pair are left together, for the first time, and
on the following morning the bride begins to apply herself to her
household duties. Her brothers and relatives who have accompanied her,
return home at the expiration of seven days.

Some three months after the wedding her parents, accompanied by the
chief men among their friends and by servants, arrive with presents of
food, and request that their daughter may pay them a visit. After being
entertained for ten or twelve days, they return home, and are followed
some weeks later by the young couple, who are accompanied by a number
of female servants bearing presents of scarves, provisions, wine, etc.
They remain a month, and on their departure the bride receives from her
father a new costume and jewellery, and the husband a complete suit of
clothes and the inevitable scarf.

Among the very poor the proceedings are much simplified, the
negotiations being conducted by the parents in person.

There is no fixed limit of marriageable age in Tibet. The average age,
however, for both sexes, is from fifteen to twenty-five, and frequently
the bride is older than the bridegroom.

When parties are desirous of dissolving the marriage bond, the reason
for so doing must first be investigated. If the husband be found
entirely blameless and willing to live with his wife, but she be
resolved to divorce him, she is required to pay double the rin, or
price paid for her, as a fine for the dissolution of the marriage
contract, called borche and den yo, that is, “divorce fine” and
“innocence fine.” [428] In the absence of a marriage contract, the
divorce fine fixed by law for the wife to pay amounts to eighteen gold
sho, equal to 135 rupees; and for the husband three gold srang, equal
to 180 rupees. If the husband’s innocence be doubtful, but the wife’s
charges remain unproved, the wife is required to pay as divorce fine a
complete suit of clothes, a pair of shoes, a bed-carpet, bed-rug, and a
wrapper, and the husband must present to his wife a second scarf and a
third article of any kind.

On the other hand, if a wife be found perfectly innocent, and willing
to live with her husband, but the husband be resolved to divorce her
for no fault of hers, he is required to pay to her twelve gold sho,
equal to ninety rupees, as divorce fine, and also yog la, “service
wage,” amounting to six pounds of barley for every day and six for
every night which she has spent with him from the day of marriage to
the date of separation. The husband is also required to return the
price of all the clothes and other gifts made to the wife by her
friends since the time of their marriage. The divorced woman also takes
away with her all jewellery given her by her relatives, but not that
given to her by her husband. The wife cannot demand the “innocence
fine.” If there be children at the time of separation, the father takes
the boys, and the mother the girls. If the husband be a man of
property, the court may order him to give the divorced wife a certain
share of his possessions for the maintenance of the girls. On the other
hand, if the wife be possessed of property, she may be required to give
something for the maintenance of her sons.

Again, when a marriage is contracted between a man of noble blood and a
woman of humble rank, or vice versâ, with the definite understanding
that they shall share each other’s good and adverse fortune, their
property in case of divorce is to be divided between them according to
their faithfulness or guilt, and their amount of mutual presents at the
time of union. In cases of divorce between parties who were united at
their own wish for the enjoyment of pleasure or merriment, the court
should, without regard to the nature of their guilt, divide their
property equally between them. [429] In cases of marriage between
slaves or serfs, the owner decides their separation or continued union.
A man of this class is, for instance, married to a woman who, the owner
thinks, might be of some service to him. When the woman is found
useless, she is dismissed, being given one-sixth of her husband’s
belongings, and her place is supplied by a new wife chosen by the
owner.

In Tibet members of the same family are forbidden by law to contract
matrimonial alliances with their kindred within seven degrees. This
rule is, however, nowadays disregarded by the people, who are known to
make alliances with their kinsmen who are distant only three or four
degrees of consanguinity. Among the Pobos and Khamba marriage is
promiscuously contracted, the brother marrying his sister, the nephew
his aunt. [430] Among the common Tibetans, so long as the parties do
not claim a common father, there is no objection to the marriage; the
uterine brother and sister may be united, and a man may marry his
stepmother or aunts.

The custom of several brothers making one woman their common wife, to
keep the ancestral property entire and undivided, is said to have had
its origin in Khams, where it is at this day extensively practised. The
Tibetans of U and Tsang have borrowed it from their cousins of Khams,
but it is not universal with them. [431] The wife is claimed by the
younger brothers as their wife only so long as they continue to live
with the eldest one. When they separate from their eldest brother, they
cannot ask him to pay compensation for their share in the wife, and she
remains the lawful wife of the eldest brother. It is not unusual for a
father or uncle to live with his son’s or nephew’s wife, and even in
high life a father makes himself a partner in the marital rights over
his son’s wife. [432]

The cessation of the pulse and the suspension of breathing are not
considered tests of the extinction of vitality. The Tibetans consider
that the spirit (nam she) usually lingers in the mortal frame for not
less than three days, though the spirits of those who have attained to
some stage of holiness quit the body immediately after the last breath
has been drawn, for communion with the dwellers in Paradise, called
Gadan or Tushita; but instances of such saintly personages are of very
rare occurrence. It is consequently considered a very sinful action to
move or dispose of the corpse immediately after death. Nowadays in
Tibet and Mongolia the dead bodies of all classes of men are carefully
kept within doors for three days, during which time their friends and
relations attend on them and make prayers for their future well-being.
On the morning of the fourth day the horoscope of the deceased, and
that of the man who is selected to be the first to touch the corpse for
removal, are consulted. A lama is employed to perform certain funeral
ceremonies, with a view to cause the spirit of the deceased to pass out
through a certain slit in the skull. [433] If this ceremony is omitted
the soul will make its exit by some other passage and go to a state of
damnation. The lama remains alone with the corpse, all the doors and
windows being closed, and no one is allowed to enter until he declares
by what passage the soul has fled. In return for this important service
he receives a cow, yak, sheep, or goat, or a sum of money, according to
the means of the deceased.

Before the dead body is removed from the house, an astrologer notes the
dates of birth of the friends and relations present. If any among them
were born under the same constellation and planet as the dead person,
they are said to incur the risk of being ridden by his ghost, and are
consequently not allowed to attend the funeral. The astrologer also
receives his reward in money or kind. Then the corpse, tightly wrapped
in clothes, is placed on a stretcher facing the direction which has
been declared auspicious by the astrologer, and is placed in a corner
of the house. Five butter lamps are lighted near the head, and a screen
is drawn round it, within which his usual food and drink, together with
a lamp, are placed. Early on the morning of the day appointed for the
disposal of the body, it is carried to the nearest cemetery. At the
time of its removal the relations make profound salutations to it. Two
men carrying wine or tea, together with a dishful of tsamba, follow the
bier. The family priest, or lama, of the deceased throws a khatag on
the litter and walks behind at a slow pace, holding a corner of another
scarf tied to it. As he proceeds he mutters funeral mantra, turning a
hand-drum (damaru) with his right hand, and with his left ringing a
bell. It is inauspicious to place the litter on the ground before its
arrival at the cemetery. If by accident this should happen, the body
must be disposed of at that spot, instead of in the cemetery. In the
neighbourhood of Lhasa there are two sacred cemeteries, Phabongka and
Serashar. Those who dispose of dead bodies at the former pay two or
three tanka for tea to the monks of Phabongka monastery; and at the
latter they pay one tanka to the cemetery keeper, who also gets the
bedding and clothes of corpses.

In every cemetery there is a large slab of stone, on which the corpse,
stripped of its coverings, is placed face downwards. The officiating
lama then crosses it with lines, and while repeating mantras, cuts it
in pieces. The first pieces are flung towards the biggest and oldest
vulture of the flock, called tankar, and the remainder to the rest.
They are so tame that they come one by one at the call of the priest.
Last of all the head of the corpse is crushed, and the bones pounded
together are mixed with the brain and distributed among the vultures.
[434] Then a new and unused earthen bowl, filled with fire of argol
(dried cowdung), with some butter and barley flour burnt in it as
incense, is presented to the departed by being placed in the quarter
towards which he is supposed to have gone. The funeral attendants now
wash their hands, and retiring to a short distance from the cemetery,
breakfast, and at about midday return home. During forty-nine days
after the drawing of the last breath, food and drink are offered to the
departed in his favourite dish; and incense, consisting of barley,
butter, and juniper spines, is burnt.

During this period of bardo, as the interval between death and
regeneration is called, the departed spirit is believed to wander, and
in order to prevent its being subject to misery, on the forty-ninth day
some of the clothes, shoes, head-dress, coins, etc., which belonged to
the deceased, after being washed and sprinkled with saffron-water, are
presented to some incarnate lama for his blessing. The last service is
conducted by a Tantrik lama, with a view to expelling all the evil
spirits and hungry ghosts which haunt the house of the departed.

On the seventh day after death, prayers are moreover offered for the
deceased’s well-being, and alms in coin, food, tea, gold, and silver
are distributed among religious men. This is repeated on every
consecutive seventh day until the forty-ninth day, when a grand feast
is given to the congregation of lamas. Nowadays, however, the rich
people of Lhasa generally distribute alms, at the rate of one tanka
each to the monks of Sera, Dabung, and Gadan, dispensing with the other
costly ceremonies. They also present the clothes belonging to the
deceased to the professors and heads of those monasteries. Some
bequeath the whole of their property to these monastic institutions or
to Lamas of great repute.

The practice of making wills has been followed by the Tibetans from
very remote times. Every man of property leaves a will bequeathing his
movable property to his children or friends, and leaving instructions
for the performance of his funeral obsequies and other pious works.

The cutting up and distributing of a corpse is a practical illustration
of the Tibetan belief that charity is the highest of all the moral
virtues. That man is said to be most virtuous whose funeral is attended
by the largest number of vultures, while if his corpse attracts but a
small company, the very dogs not deigning to touch his defiled remains,
he is judged to have led a sinful life.

The dead bodies of pregnant and barren women, and also of lepers, are
packed in leather bags and thrown into the waters of the great
Tsang-po. A Tibetan proverb says, “She whose son dies after birth is
white barren (rab-cha karpo); she whose daughter dies after birth is
partly barren (rab-cha tavo); she who has borne no children is black
barren (rab-cha nagpo).” The corpses of such and of lepers are
considered particularly unclean, and should not be kept within the
limits of the country, but must either be thrown beyond nine hills and
dales, or packed in horse’s or ox’s skins and thrown into the river.

The dead bodies of incarnate lamas are occasionally burnt, and their
ashes and bones deposited in chorten. The remains of saintly
personages, such as pretend to have emanated from Bodhisattvas and
Buddhas, are preserved like the Egyptian mummies, being embalmed or
salted and placed within gold, silver, or copper chorten, where they
are seated in a meditative posture, like the conventional image of
Buddha. These incarnate lamas, at the time of death, mention the time
when and the place and the family where their souls will subsequently
find re-embodiment, and also the name and race of the family, and
instruct their friends to perform rites and ceremonies for their
well-being after death.

On the demise of the Dalai and Tashi lamas, the work in all the public
and private offices, all business, and market gatherings are suspended
for seven days. For thirty days women are forbidden to put on their
jewellery, and men or women may not wear new apparel. Lamas and monks
must, on such occasions, mourn for ten days, during which they must not
shave their heads, or wear their church head-dresses during services,
All classes of people refrain from amusements and festivities, and from
going into groves for pleasure, sports, or love-making. It is only in
honour of the death of these two great hierarchs of Tibet that the
whole country goes into mourning. The mourning for abbots of other
monasteries and heads of families is confined to the friends and monks
who are near to them. Rich and respectable men do not, within a year
after the death of their parents, take part in marriage ceremonies and
festivities; and do not undertake journeys to a distance.

Among the Sikkim Buddhists, dead bodies are burnt. On the fourth day
after cremation, a lama performs the tusol, or washing ceremony, which
consists in removing the relics, ashes, etc., and washing the place of
burning with water. The relics are placed in an urn and deposited in a
chorten. The ashes are thrown into a mountain stream, such as the Tista
or Rungit. [435] The relics of lamas and important men, after being
pulverized, are mixed with clay and cast in moulds into miniature
chorten. These relic chorten are deposited in sacred places, such as
monasteries, temples, caverns, etc. On the seventh day the funeral
ceremony, called Ten-zung, is performed. All relations and neighbours
are invited to this funeral feast. At dusk all the evil spirits which
are believed to have been invited to the departure of the deceased, are
expelled by a Tantrik priest, assisted by the deafening yells of the
guests. [436]

The physicians of High Asia have, I am told, discovered such remarkable
properties of vegetable drugs, and of the flesh and bile of certain
animals, and of some sorts of excrements in healing different kinds of
sores, that if the statements of my informant be true, the surgeons of
civilized countries would be struck with wonder at their marvellous
performances. For this remarkable success, the Tibetans do not appear
to be indebted to their Chinese or Indian neighbours. [437] Their
medicines are mostly indigenous, and their discoveries in surgery have
resulted from their own experience. They supply the greater number of
physicians and surgeons to the Mongols and other neighbouring peoples.

The treatment of small-pox is very little understood by Tibetan
doctors. Inoculation is, however, resorted to, and a new method of
performing this operation has been discovered by the Northern Chinese
physicians. It consists in selecting the best lymph from the light
white pox pustules of a healthy child, which, mixed with camphor
powder, is blown with a pipe into the nostril of the person to be
inoculated. [438] Great care and experience are required in selecting
the lymph, on which alone depends the safety of the patients.
Chicken-pox occurs only in a mild form, and is generally left to take
its course.

Hydrophobia is very prevalent in Tibet, Mongolia, and China, and its
effects are considered to manifest themselves, according to the colour
of the dog, at periods varying from seven days to eighteen months, and
also according to the time of day at which the bite was received. The
remedies are, however, sufficiently practical. As soon as possible tie
a ligature four fingers above the wound; draw out the poison by means
of the sucking apparatus, called rnyabs-ras, similar to the
cupping-glasses of the Indians, and then bleed the wounded part. If the
patient presents himself to the physician a day after having been
bitten, the latter should only cauterize the wound, and then apply an
ointment made of butter, turmeric, a poisonous bulb called bon-nya, and
musk.

In Lower Kongbo, Pobo, Pemakyod, and other mountainous districts of
Southern Tibet, and in Nepal, Sikkim, and Bhutan on this side of the
Himalayas, goitre is the most prevalent disease. It owes its origin to
the calcareous nature of the water drunk by the natives. Six varieties
of goitre are recognized by Tibetan physicians, which are variously
treated by cauterization, bleeding the jugular vein behind the ear, and
also the swollen muscle of the goitre, and the administration of
nostrums composed of the dried gullet of the yak or sheep, dried fish,
different kinds of salts, Piper longum and pepper, and powdered
conch-shell, burnt in a hermetically closed vessel.

Snake-bite is of rare occurrence in Higher Tibet, but in the lower
valley of the great Tsang-po, great numbers of snakes are found, and
also on the western frontier of China bordering Tibet. [439]
Snake-bites are treated like hydrophobia, by tying a ligature above the
part bitten and cupping. The wound is then washed with curd or milk,
camel’s milk being the most efficacious. [440] It is believed in High
Asia that if a snake bite a camel, the snake dies immediately without
injuring the camel. If there be no burning heat as a consequence of the
bite, the wound should be cauterized. Internal remedies are also taken,
consisting of cardamom, musk, pepper, and other native drugs. The
Glak-los (wild people) of Pemakyod [441] immediately cut off the bitten
portion, or the bitten limb, if possible, after which they apply musk
and bear’s bile (gall?) to the wound and bind it up. The Lalos eat
snakes, of which, however, they reject the head and tail as injurious.

During the months of January and February, when the great mon-lam (or
prayer-meeting) fair takes place at Lhasa, the city is occasionally
visited by a highly infectious disease which causes great havoc among
the people when the crowd is great. When the disease is not properly
treated the patient generally dies before the tenth day, but those
cases which have passed the thirteenth day are considered hopeful.
Tibetan physicians, by watching this disease in its different phases,
have achieved remarkable success in treating it with their indigenous
drugs.

In Lhasa, Shigatse, and other towns and monasteries of Tibet, the
principal disease from which people suffer and die is paralysis. [442]
Five different kinds of this disease are recognized by Tibetan
physicians, who also profess to have observed that the first symptoms
generally show themselves on the 4th, 8th, 11th, 15th, 18th, 22nd,
25th, or 29th day of the lunar month. Persons who have passed their
sixtieth year seldom survive a paralytic stroke of any kind. All other
cases in their milder forms are curable by proper and regular medical
treatment.

Leprosy is prevalent in most of the countries of High Asia. It is
variously called glud-nad, “the nag’s (serpent’s) disease,” and
mje-nad, [443] the “corroding malady,” and is believed to originate
from various causes, fanciful and real. By digging in pestilential soil
where snakes live, turning up stones under which these reptiles lurk,
felling poisonous trees, throwing tea, water, or cooked food and other
refuse on the blazing hearth, men are said to excite the wrath of the
Nagas and mischievous spirits of the upper and nether worlds, who
delight in working the ruin of the human race. They spread this hateful
malady by the exhalation of their breath, by their poisonous touch or
malignant glance, or even by the power of their malignant wish. The
“charmed banner” [444] is a great preventive of these evils. The people
of High Asia generally fix banners with printed charms thereon near to
or on their houses, as they are believed to prevent the Nagas entering
them. Leprosy is likewise assumed to be the consequence of the sins of
former lives. [445] It also originates from disorders produced by
irregularity and intemperance in food and habits, whereby the black and
yellow fluids of the body are increased, and give rise to this
distressing malady. Eighteen different kinds of leprosy are recognized.
The chanting of charms and mantras of Vajrapani Buddha by the patient
or the physician is resorted to, that wrathful deity being a mighty
subduer of all malevolent demons and Nagas, and various native drugs
are also administered in the form of pills.

Dropsy, though rare in High Asia, prevails in the southern and eastern
districts in Tibet, and is caused by drinking much water after
exercise, lying down in damp places, taking cold, or by light
unsubstantial food, by which the digestive powers are deranged. Twelve
varieties of this disease are recognized, which are divided into two
main groups, characterized as “the hot” and “the cold fluid”
respectively. Bone-ash is believed to be the best remedy; but other
medicines, consisting of grapes, cinnamon, oxide of iron, pomegranate
(rind?), lime, and other ingredients, are also prescribed. [446]

Dyspepsia (pad-kau) is one of the commonest diseases in Tibet, and
forty-three different varieties of this malady have been observed by
native physicians.

Toothache is also a very general complaint of the people of Tibet, due
to the extreme rigour of the climate and the coldness of the water. The
inhabitants of the remote province of Chang-tang usually lose their
teeth before reaching the age of thirty.

Among the games played by the Tibetans, there are some such as
mig-mang, or “many eyes,” resembling chess; srid-pai khorlo, or “the
circle of life,” [447] and dice, which even the clergy are permitted to
amuse themselves with. Others, as, for instance, wrestling, archery,
polo, foot and pony races, are confined to the people; nor are the
lamas allowed to amuse themselves with singing and dancing except at
stated times, as, for example, during the New Year holidays.

At midsummer the people and nobility dress tents, and for several days
amuse themselves under them, picnicking, dancing, and singing.

In the 8th moon the jon-gyu festival takes place, lasting for seven or
fourteen or even twenty-one days. On this occasion the lamas and people
amuse themselves with sports, games, dancing, and feasting. This
festival is observed in all northern Buddhist countries. [448]

Again, in the latter part of the 12th moon, there is a lama dance in
every monastery, after which the evil spirits are exorcised. [449]
Sometimes the 4th of the 6th and the 22nd of the 9th moons are observed
as feast days; the latter as the anniversary of the Buddha’s descent
from the Tushita heaven. [450]

In the summer, commencing with the full moon in July and lasting for a
period of forty-five days, all lamas make a retreat in their
monasteries, during which time they are not allowed to go without the
lamasery walls, or take part in any amusement. This is known as the
yar-nas. [451]

The birthdays of the Dalai and Tashi lamas are also kept as holidays,
and on their reaching the age of three, twenty-five, forty-nine,
sixty-one, seventy-three, or eighty-five, there are also great
festivities.

When eclipses of the sun or moon occur, the Tibetans hold religious
ceremonies similar to those of the Hindus.

Of all feasts, that of the New Year is probably the most popular. At
Lhasa the State makes arrangements for the celebrations, beginning them
about a month beforehand.

The kitchen of the Grand Lama is in a large yellow building called the
Phodang serpo, or Jag-ming khang (ljags-ming khang), situated to the
east of the palace. The cooking-stoves are ornamented with gold,
silver, and precious stones, estimated to be worth Rs. 20,000, and all
the cooking utensils are of solid gold. All the butter and milk used
here is obtained from the herd of five hundred jomos (half-breed yaks)
belonging to the Dalai lama, which herd the people salute as it passes,
taking off their hats or kotowing to the animals. Twenty Tse-dung (lama
officials) herd these cattle, milk them, and churn the butter.

Here, when New Year is approaching, five lamas prepare cakes and
dainties for the Grand Lama, their mouths covered with eight
thicknesses of silk, so that the food may not be polluted by their
breath. In the village at the foot of Potala, called the Shedo khang,
two or three hundred men make cakes and biscuits for the officials,
lamas, and people; and every one, whether rich or poor, has some
prepared for the festival.

On the 15th of the 12th moon two hundred workmen begin white-washing
the walls of Potala, which work occupies them for three days; and then,
but only then, people are at liberty to have the walls of their houses
whitened, and there is no one so poor that he does not at this season
renovate the exterior of his dwelling.

On the 18th all public offices are closed for fifty days. Booths are
erected to supply the crowds which assemble for the mon-lam chenpo, or
“grand prayer-meeting,” which, beginning on New Year’s day, lasts for a
month, and many of the officials visit Tse-dung linga, a beautiful park
to the south of the city, where there is a Chinese restaurant and
singing and dancing girls, called Tung-shema, or “drinking ladies.”

On the 22nd in all lamaseries and in many houses of the people torma
offerings are made, to be offered the following day to the household
gods. Then the people bathe and get themselves ready to make visits of
congratulations, which they begin doing on the 27th. On the 29th each
householder has a general house cleaning, and the dust and dirt is
thrown in a cross-road, and thus all impending misfortunes are got rid
of with the rubbish.

Early on the morning of the 29th large and gorgeously decorated tents
are erected in the great courtyard of Potala and other temples, in each
of which three or four hundred people can be seated. In the centre of
each tent are estrades of carved and gilt sandal-wood (?), on which the
abbots, head lamas, and guests of distinction take their seats, while
on lower seats are the other guests. A number of lamas, with little
tables of sandal-wood in front of them, on which different instruments
of music, and implements used in church ceremonies, such as dorje,
bells, damaru, etc., are placed, occupy another portion of each tent.
When the preliminary service is over the grand “black hat” dance, of
which I have previously made mention, begins. [452]

The dancers are eighty in number, and their gowns are made of white,
red, and green satin. Each one holds in his left hand a wooden skull,
and in his right a short club, from which hang five silk scarfs of
different colours. They prance about, wildly waving their arms, for
half an hour or so, when suddenly there is heard wild shrieking, and a
second set of dancers, or masks called Kambab, come in. They are
dressed to represent the various gods, most of them extraordinarily
hideous to look at. These continue the wild dance to the music of
cymbals, drums, and flutes for a couple of hours.

When the Kambab have stopped, four skeleton-like figures appear: they
are the Durdag, or “lords of cemeteries,” and they dance in their turn.
These are followed by sixteen figures representing Indian atsaras, who,
by their dress and contortions, excite wild mirth among the people. A
number of dancers wearing stag heads then appear, and finally the
“black hat” dancers come out once more, each with a cymbal or a drum in
his hand, and the dance comes to an end.

At the termination of the dance the lamas who performed the religious
service earlier in the day form in a procession and proceed to throw
away the torma offering.

Five hundred soldiers and twenty-four flag-bearers accompany the
procession. Three lamas carry on an iron tripod the tsamba torma, which
is of pyramidal shape, about ten feet high and painted red, with
projecting edges to represent flames, and frequently surmounted by a
skull moulded in tsamba. Three other lamas bear on a large iron tray
supported by a tripod a skeleton also made of tsamba. The procession
goes to about a mile from the temple to where a shed, or hom khang, of
straw or brush has been made, in which the torma and the skeleton are
placed and then set on fire.

When the flames break forth the flag-bearers lower their flags and run
back to the lamasery with all speed, to escape the devil’s assaults,
and the soldiers fire off their guns at the burning mass to prevent the
evil spirits escaping from the fire in which they are now supposed to
be roasting. [453]

On the thirtieth day of the moon, New Year’s eve, all house decorations
and furniture are renewed or cleaned, and offerings and oblations made
in every domestic chapel. The walls, pillars, posts, lintels, etc., are
washed with whey. A lotus, finger-marks or marks of animals’ claws are
painted on the wooden floors of the rooms, or a sheep’s head is
scorched, and its eyes, ears, and nose painted with the five colours
mixed with butter: this is said to be a certain means of insuring good
luck, and is believed to be a pre-Buddhist custom of the country.

In the evening the whole city is illuminated, and this is kept up for
three successive nights.

New Year’s day is called Gyalpo lo sar, or “the King’s new year,” and
the Grand Lama holds a levee on this occasion. The Donnyer chenpo, or
Grand Chamberlain, opens the ceremony by wishing the lama all happiness
(“tra-shi de leg phun-sum tsog”), and presenting him some wine and
tsamba. The Grand Lama replies, “Tan-du de-wa tobpar shog” and dipping
his finger in the wine, sprinkles a little about as an oblation, and
then tastes the tsamba. Then the great trumpets sound, and the Dalai
lama takes his seat on the throne in the great hall, and all the
ministers and church dignitaries take their places according to
precedence. Tea is then served, followed by toma, a kind of red potato
of Tibet, cooked in butter and sugared. [454] When they have finished
eating, every one presents His Holiness with khatag about eighteen feet
long, and he gives each one in return his blessing.

In the mean time “the good luck dance” (tra-shi-gi gar) is going on
outside the hall, in which some twenty little boys, of eight years of
age, take part, the lower officials, such as the Dungkhor, forming the
audience.

In every house of any importance the master, his wife, and children are
offered the compliments of the season by all their relatives,
dependents, and friends, who, in their turn, are treated with wine by
them. When the New Year’s wine has been drunk, the misser (serfs) sing
some hymns or glees.

At the New Year the Tibetans watch out for omens for the forthcoming
year, the best of which, if one is to start soon on a journey, is to
see a young woman with a child in her arms. To see flags, banners,
milking of cows, persons carrying vessels filled with water or any
other liquid, or timber for house-building or firewood, is lucky, as is
also the sight of a corpse on a bier. To meet well-dressed persons, to
be greeted by friends, to hear a lucky name, are also held to be signs
of good luck; but to see beggars, ragged persons, empty vessels, a
person descending a hill, or carrying shoes in his hand, a saddled
horse without a rider, to hear impolite or rough language, are portends
of bad fortune. [455]

On New Year’s day dancing beggars (or Dre-kar) make their appearance in
the streets and houses. They wear masks, usually representing a black
devil, with a shaggy, white beard, with cowries for eyebrows and
encircling his face, and sometimes with a cowrie on either cheek. They
dance and crack jokes to the delight of the guests assembled in each
house for the New Year’s breakfast. [456]

In the afternoon there is further feasting in most of the houses, and
the guests, both male and female, frequently end the entertainment with
a dance (shabdo); first, the women dance alone, then the men, and
finally, both sexes together. [457]

The New Year’s festivities terminate on the third day at noon, when the
monks of the great lamaseries all meet in the Kyil khording (or Jo
khang) to hear the Grand Lama expound the faith. On each succeeding
day, till the 24th of the moon, they hold the great prayer-meeting, or
monlam chenpo. [458]

In the afternoon of the third, the Tsog-chen Shalnyo of Dabung assumes
the government of Lhasa for the next month and a half, previously
informing the police magistrates of the fact, and henceforth all
authority, even that of the Kalon, as far as the city is concerned, is
vested in him alone. [459]



NOTES


[1] Sarat Chandra has, in honour of Sir Alfred Croft, named the lake
Yamdo Croft. See Journ. Buddh. Text Soc., iv. pt. iii. p. iv.

[2] The publication of this volume has been unavoidably delayed.

[3] On the origin of Darjiling as a sanatorium, see Hooker, ‘Himalayan
Journals,’ (1854) i. 115.

[4] Hooker, op. cit., ii. 37, mentions seeing a troop of large monkeys
in the Lamteng valley (alt. 9000 feet) in Sikkim. Ibid., p. 108, he
says that in the most snowy part of Sikkim (near the Tunkra la) “large
monkeys are also found on the skirts of the pine forests, and a curious
long-tailed animal, Ailurus ochraceus, peculiar to the Himalaya,
something between a diminutive bear and a squirrel.” Large monkeys are
also found in Eastern Tibet at about 9000 feet alt.—(W. R.)

[5] Called Chung by the Lepchas. Though not divided into castes, they
belong to several tribes. All consider themselves as the earliest
inhabitants of the Tambur valley, though they have a tradition of
having originally emigrated from Tibet. See Hooker, op. cit., i. 137.

[6] It would, perhaps, be better to transcribe this mangdong (from
Tibetan mang, “many;” and dong, “stones”). Chorten is mchod,
“offering;” rten, “receptacle.” It is usually pronounced chürten. See
infra, 37, 40.—(W. R.)

[7] Made from half-fermented millet. Murwa is Eleusine coracana. See
Hooker, op. cit., i. 133, 175.—(W. R.)

[8] The country between the Arun and Tambur is called Limbudu by the
Nepali natives, and the aboriginal people who have dwelt there from
time immemorial are designated by the name of Limbu, though they call
themselves by the name of Yakthanga. In the same manner the tribes
inhabiting Kiranta, or the regions between Dudkosi and the Arun, are
called Kirat, which name is as old as that of the great Hindu deity
Mahadeva. The Kirat of the north and the Limbu of the south were known
to the ancients by the name of Kirata, on account of their living by
hunting and carrying on trade with the natives of the plains in musk,
yak-tails, shellac, cardamoms, etc., from the earliest Hindu periods.
See also infra, p. 26.

The Tibetans and the Bhutias of Nepal and Sikkim call the Limbus by the
name of Tsang, probably on account of their having emigrated from the
Tsang province of Tibet. Both tradition and written Limbu works relate
that the Limbu people partly emigrated thither (to Limbuan) from Tsang
in Thibet and Kashi in the Madhya Desh, and partly sprang from
underneath a huge rock in the village of Khedab, to the north-east of
Tsanpur. So that the Limbu people were divided into three great tribes,
according to their original homes, Tsang, Kashi, and Phedah. The first
branch from Tsang spread over Tambur-Khola, Phalung, Mirva Khola
itself, Mayiwa, and Yangrub, being designated by the Tibetans as Tsang
Monpa, or the Limbus inhabiting the defiles. Those who came from Kashi
occupied Chaibisa, Kaikhola, and Tsolkar. Those that sprang from
underneath the great rock of Phedah were also called Baiphuta. The name
of the place in the middle of which stands the huge slab of rock,
measuring a hundred fathoms on either side, was Phedah Pangi-loma,
which is evidently a corruption of the name Pheduh Pangi-lungpa, or
“the pasture land in Pheduh.” See also infra, p. 26.

The Baiphuta Limbu were the most powerful and numerous; their chief,
Baiphuta Han Raja, ruled over Eastern Nepal. All the Limbu tribes, as
well as the Kiratas, paid him tribute and military service, in a manner
resembling the feudal system of Europe. The power of this family having
declined, the third tribe assumed the supremacy, and massacred the
adherents of the former rulers. After the fall of the Han dynasty there
was anarchy all over Eastern Nepal, until there arose in the Srisobha
tribe a mighty man called Marang, who succeeded in reconciling the
different tribes, and was elected king over all the aboriginal tribes
of Eastern Nepal, the southern portion being ruled by a Newar chief.
After the death of the most distinguished of his successors, Mohani
Raja, the Limbu tribes again fell into anarchy, and continued in this
state for more than a century. At last, probably in the ninth century,
appeared the famous Srijanga, the deified hero of the Limbus. The
cis-Himalayan Bhutias identify him with an incarnation of Padma
Sambhava, and attribute to him the introduction of the art of writing
by the invention of an alphabet. Tradition also attributes the
introduction of this art to Marang Raja, and its revival to
Srijanga.—(S. C. D.) See Gazetteer of Sikkim, pp. 36–38.

[9] Cf. Hooker, op. cit., i. p. 107: “They puncture through thick
worsted stockings, and even trousers, and when full roll in the form of
a little soft ball into the bottom of the shoe....” Ibid., p. 167, he
makes mention of them swarming below 7000 feet, “a small black species
above 3000 feet, and a large yellow-brown solitary one below that
elevation.”—(W. R.) Leeches are found at all elevations up to 10,000
feet at least.

[10] La, “pass;” rtse, “point, summit;” usually a pile of stones with
brush stuck in it, on which rags are hung.—(W. R.)

[11] Lha, “god;” gsol, “to beg.” The invocation I have always heard
used is “lha gya lo, lha gya lo,” meaning, “god (give me) an hundred
years, god (give me) an hundred years!”—(W. R.)

[12] The giant nettle is the Urtica heterophylla. Hooker, op. cit., i.
182. The fibres of some nettles are twisted for bowstrings, others as
thread for sewing and weaving, while many are eaten raw and in soups,
especially the numerous little succulent species. The Urtica crenulata,
or great shrubby nettle, grows also in these parts. Hooker, op. cit.,
ii. 188.—(W. R.)

[13] On the Lepchas, see Dr. A. Campbell, Jour. Anth. Inst., i. 128, et
seq. Dr. Campbell has also written several valuable papers on the
Limboos in the Jour. Asiat. Soc. of Bengal for 1855 and other years,
and in the Jour. Anth. Inst., vol. i.; also papers on the Murnis and
Haius of Nepaul and Sikkim, in the same collection, I believe; but they
are not accessible to me. Dr. Hooker, op. cit., i. 127–136, says of the
Lepchas: “They, or at least some of their tribes, call themselves Rong
and Arratt, and their country Dijong. Polyandry is unknown among them,
and polygamy rare. Marriage is by purchase. The dead are burnt or
buried. Omens are sought in the entrails of fowls (p. 135). They have
no religion, though acknowledging the existence of good and bad
spirits.”—(W. R.)

[14] Perhaps Nya-dug-shing (nya, “fish;” dug, “poison;” shing, “tree”).
Dr. Hooker (op. cit., i. 168) mentions as growing in Sikkim, aconite
and convallaria yielding the bikh poison.—(W. R.)

[15] Dr. Hooker (op. cit., i. 138) says that in their funeral
ceremonies “the Bijooa of the Lepchas is employed; but the Limboo has
also priests of his own, called ‘Phedangbos,’ who belong to rather a
higher order than the Bijooas.” Dr. Hooker’s description of the Bijua
and of the Lepchas’ religious beliefs prove them conclusively to
profess nearly the same religion as the Bonbo of Tibet.—(W. R.)

[16] Cf. Hooker, op. cit., i. 205.—(W. R.)

[17] The Tibetan word lagog is usually translated garlic. I have always
heard onion called by its Chinese name tsung. Wild onions are very
common in Northern Tibet, at elevations of 15,000 feet and upwards.—(W.
R.)

[18] Chang is made from half fermented barley, and is the national
drink of Tibet. On its preparation, see Jaeschke, ‘Tib.-Engl.
Dictionary,’ s.v. chang, and infra 34, note 1.—(W. R.)

[19] On the salt trade viâ the Rathong valley, see Hooker, op. cit., i.
340, 350.

[20] Hooker’s Ringbee.

[21] Tsos (pron. tso) means “dye” in Tibetan. The dye here referred to
is probably the yellow one prepared from the symplocos. See Hooker, op.
cit., ii. 41, and J.R.A.S., 1891, 218.—(W. R.)

[22] Parmi seems to be Tibetan bar, “middle;” mi, “man.”—(W. R.)

[23] Cf. Hooker, op. cit., i. 137, 138. Speaking of their burial
ceremonies, he says, “They mourn, burn, and bury their dead, raising a
mound over the corpse, erecting a headstone, and surrounding the grave
with a little paling of sticks; they then scatter eggs and pebbles over
the ground.”—(W. R.)

[24] Trees or shrubs, with aromatic wood or having sweet-smelling
flowers, are frequently called chandan in Tibet. At Kumbum, for
example, the famous tree, which is said to have sprung from the hair
cut from the head of Tsongkhapa, and which is in all probability a
Syringa, is called Tsandan (or Chandan) karpo.—(W. R.)

[25] This work of Sakya Pandita, the Sanskrit title of which is
‘Subhashita ratna nidhi,’ is well known to Oriental scholars by the
translation, accompanied by the Tibetan text, published by Csoma de
Kőrös in vols. xxiv. and xxv. of the Journ. Bengal Asiat. Soc., and by
the French translation of a selection from it made by Ph. E. Foucaux,
Paris, 1858, 8vo., under the title of ‘Le trésor des belles paroles.’
The original work is in 454 stanzas. Csoma only translated the 234
first. Sakya Pandita’s Indian name was Ananda Dhwadja; he lived in the
thirteenth century. His Tibetan name is derived from that of the
lamasery of Sakya, near Tashilhunpo, where he resided.—(W. R.)

[26] Dug, “poison;” shing, “tree or wood.”—(W. R.)

[27] Cf. Hooker, op. cit., i. 254.

[28] Written, I believe, gsha.—(W. R.)

[29] Utpala, or Udpala, is the blue lotus of India, also used
medicinally. Mr. Jaeschke, ‘Tib.-Engl. Dict.,’ s.v., says, “In Lhadak
this name seems to be transferred to Polemonium caeruleum.”—(W. R.)

[30] Hares, I take it, are meant.—(W. R.)

[31] Dr. Hooker, op. cit., i. 255, states having found similar
pheasants near the Nango la. The male bird had two to five spurs on
each of its legs, according to its age.—(W. R.) Ithagenes Cruentus.

[32] Cf. Hooker, op. cit., i. 275.—(W. R.)

[33] See Hooker, op. cit., i. 263.—(W. R.)

[34] Tibetan beer. Its preparation is thus described by Jaeschke, op.
cit., s.v., Chang: “When the boiled barley has grown cold, some phabs
(yeast or dry barm prepared in Balti of flour, mixed with some ginger
and aconite) is added, after which it is left standing for two or three
days, until fermentation commences, when it is called glum. Having
sufficiently fermented, some water is poured to it, and the beer is
considered to be ready for use.”—(W. R.)

[35] Hooker’s Kambachen (op. cit., i. 257). He gives its altitude at
11,380 feet above sea-level.—(W. R.)

[36] Hooker (loc. cit.) says that the only cultivation here consists of
radishes, potatoes, and barley: no wheat is grown.—(W. R.)

[37] This custom of putting a little piece of butter on the mouth of a
bottle or neck of a jug of wine when offered to any one is observed by
all Tibetans, and by most of the Mongol tribes with which I am
acquainted.—(W. R.)

[38] From this description of Pemazang, it may be inferred that he was
a Khamba, a Tibetan from the north-east. We know by Hooker, op. cit.,
i. 137, that many Khamba came to Sikkim with the first Sikkim rajah.
They are, as a people, famous “rain-makers;” while the people from
other parts of Tibet are not much given to performing rain-making or
rain-dispelling ceremonies. Cf. ‘The Land of the Lamas,’ p. 188.—(W.
R.)

[39] The term ani (also pronounced aneh) is used to designate a wife,
concubine, or nun. In the present case it certainly means a nun living
in a state of concubinage with a lama. It is a common practice in
Tibet, and in many places lamas (graba) and ani live in the same
convent. See ‘Report on Explorations in Sikkim, Bhutan, etc., from 1856
to 1886,’ pp. 9 and 12, and infra, p. 42.—(W. R.)

[40] Written, according to Jaeschke, op. cit., dkyar. The word and the
thing are unknown, I believe, in other parts of Tibet.—(W. R.)

[41] Throughout Tibet and the greater part of Mongolia, the intestines,
stuffed with the hashed heart, liver, and lights, compose the first
meal made from a freshly killed sheep or kid. The head and pelt are
usually given to the person who has sold the sheep, this not being
included in the price paid. Cf. infra, p. 41.—(W. R.)

[42] The Kirata are well known as a tribe of non-Brahmanical people
(Mleccha) in the Veda. See Chr. Lassen, ‘Indis. Alterthumskunde,’ vol.
i. p. 78: “The land between the San Roci and Kankaji is approximately
the same as that of the Kiratas.” A complete discussion on the Kiratas
is to be found in ‘Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes,’ vol.
ii. p. 35 ff. See supra, p. 3.—(W. R.)

[43] Yarsa probably means “upper (yar) land (sa).” Yara mara, or yarka
marka, meaning “upper and lower,” are terms used throughout Tibet.—(W.
R.)

[44] Tetraogallus Tibetanas.

[45] Cf. Hooker, op. cit., i. 250–254. He made the altitude of this
pass to be 15,770 feet above sea-level.—(W. R.)

[46] Hok (or og) means “lower,” kong or gong means “upper.”—(W. R.)

[47] See infra, p. 37, note 2.

[48] Purug is rather a poor transcription of the word phrug (pronounced
truk), but better known by the Chinese name of pulo. Pulo, though now a
Chinese word, is a borrowed term, probably the Tibetan name. Phrug is
native Tibetan cloth made in pieces usually nine or ten fathoms (damba
in Tibetan) long and about fourteen inches broad.—(W. R.)

[49] Mi, “man;” za, “to eat.”—(W. R.)

[50] Mthong-wa, “seen;” kun, “entire;” grol, “freedom.”—(W. R.)

[51] Also visited by Hooker. He says that it was (in 1848) a miserable
collection of 200 to 300 stone huts. Its altitude is about 13,500 feet
above sea-level. See Hooker, op. cit., i. 238. On p. 242 of his work is
a “diagram of the glacial terraces at the fork of the Yangma
valley.”—(W. R.)

[52] Yang-ma, meaning “broad.”—(W. R.)

[53] Rtsa, “grass;” mtsams, “boundary-line, limit.”—(W. R.)

[54] Tara, or tarak, is made of curdled milk slightly cooked and
stirred up in the process. It is a favourite dish throughout Tibet and
Western Mongolia, in which latter country it is also known as tarak. It
is generally eaten just before meals. In Eastern Tibet and the Kokonor
it is called djo (pr. sho). It is the same as the yaurt of the Turks
and the people of the Balkanic States.—(W. R.)

[55] Shape is the colloquial title given to the ministers of State
(Kalon) of the Tale lama. The word is possibly gshags, “justice;” dpe,
“model,” though it is now written as in the text. See infra, p.
174.—(W. R.)

[56] Gyagar Khamba means “Indian Khamba,” the same as probably Hooker’s
Khumba of Sikkim. See p. 107, note; and Hooker, i. 136.—(W. R.)

[57] Nyingma, or Ngangyur, the old or red-hat sect of lamas. Their
chief stronghold is Ulterior Tibet, Sikkim, and Bhutan.—(W. R.)

[58] The famous “six-syllable prayer.” See my ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p.
326 et sqq.—(W. R.)

[59] A small stream emptying into the Taya Tsangpo of our maps.—(W. R.)

[60] Ugyen-gyatso visited in 1883 another rock-cut hermitage in this
neighbourhood, at a place called Kyil-khor ta dub, some 10 miles from
the She-kar gomba, at the foot of the Lama la. It was about a quarter
mile long. Padma Sambhava is said to have lived in it. See ‘Report on
Explorations in Bhutan, etc.,’ p. 20, § 20.—(W. R.)

[61] Written phyug-po. Med (from me), “no.”—(W. R.)

[62] Written hbrog, and usually pronounced dru, du, or do. The name
dopa or drupa applies equally to all pastoral tribes, and they, when
speaking, use it with the acceptation of “house, dwelling, tent,
home.”—(W. R.)

[63] Three Tibetan tankas are the equivalent of one rupee. There were
four varieties of tankas then current in Tibet, two of Nepalese
minting, two made at Lhasa, the best being that known as Gadan tanka,
and made at the Castle of Gadan.—(W. R.)

[64] In 1879 Chandra Das crossed the Chorten nyima la, probably 20 to
30 miles south of the village of Tebong (called then by him Thekong).
He followed the Chorten nyima river from its source in the mountain of
the same name to near its mouth at Tebong, where his route joined the
one described in the present narrative.—(W. R.)

[65] Or, more correctly, Drang-lung; for he says, in his diary for
1879, that it means “cold valley.”—(W. R.)

[66] Nabu, or, more correctly, Nabo, means “host, landlord.”—(W. R.)

[67] Called satu by Anglo-Indian writers. This word is also found in
Georgi, ‘Alphabetum Tibetanum’ (1762), p. 445: “Hordei farinam in
jentaculi, pultisque formam subactam Satù communi vocabulo dicunt.”—(W.
R.)

[68] This is the ordinary style of Mongol fur cap, very generally used
in Tibet.—(W. R.)

[69] On this organization, see chap. vii. p. 180.

[70] In his journey of 1879, he speaks of Mende as “the pretty village
of Mende.... Facing the village is a flower-garden, in which are also
dwarf willows, stunted birch and juniper trees.” He also says that
Targe (Targye) is on the Yaru-tsang-po (the Taya tsang-po of the maps),
probably a local appellation for the upper Arun. Taya tsang-po is
probably Targye tsang-po, “the river of the Tar-gye.”—(W. R.)

[71] Probably Khyab-dvang, “all-powerful,” a title in frequent use in
Tibet.—(W. R.)

[72] This river is the Che chu (or Chi chu), the great Arun. Kurma, the
author tells us in his journal of 1879, is a “Dokpa town containing
about six hundred families.... All supplies are brought here from
Shigatse.”—(W. R.)

[73] Hence the name phag, “pig;” ra, “goat.” S. C. D. says they roast
them alive. This must be a mistake. I never heard of meat being roasted
in Tibet. He evidently means that the sheep are cooked without the skin
being removed. The Mongols do the same thing, throwing the carcass
(some say the live sheep) in boiling water. These carcasses are sold in
a frozen state by the Mongols in Peking in winter, and are known as
Tang-yang, or “scalded sheep,” in Chinese. Cf. C. R. Markham’s
‘Narrative of the Mission of Geo. Bogle,’ 86.—(W. R.)

[74] It is called Ya-go on the maps. S. C. D. says, in the account of
his first journey, that this village is on the boundary-line between
Lhasa and Ulterior Tibet, belonging to the former country.—(W. R.)

[75] The Tagmar of our maps. The writer says elsewhere that it has
about two hundred houses.—(W. R.)

[76] The Bra-gyin pa gomba of the maps.—(W. R.)

[77] The Ngambu dung la of our maps, altitude 14,800 feet; but in the
account of his first journey S. C. D. says it is 13,500 feet high. The
descent on the north side, he adds, is very steep.—(W. R.)

[78] Or Luguri jong, as he calls it elsewhere.—(W. R.)

[79] S. C. D. reached this city for the first time on July 7, 1879.

[80] “If the magnificence of the place was to be increased by any
external cause, none could more superbly have adorned its numerous
gilded canopies and turrets than the sun rising in full splendour
directly opposite. It presented a view wonderfully beautiful and
brilliant; the effect was little short of magic, and it made an
impression which no time will ever efface from my mind.”—Captain Samuel
Turner, ‘Embassy to the Court of the Teshu Lama,’ 230.

[81] This word is colloquially used to designate the cook of any
dignitary or official.—(W. R.)

[82] Or rather, “Please walk in, Mr. Pundit.”—(W. R.)

[83] Or Nyer-pa (gnyer-pa); this word is generally used to designate
the procurator or manager of the temporal affairs of a lamasery.—(W.
R.)

[84] Called ma-hua by the Chinese; made of thin strips of dough thrown
into boiling grease for a minute or two. They are eaten all over China,
Mongolia, and Tibet. I do not know the Tibetan name; Mongols call them
by the Chinese term of ma-hua-erh.—(W. R.)

[85] This appears to be the Chinese ping, meaning “cake or pastry.” In
North-West China and Szechuan this word designates a thin cake of
wheat-flour the size of a plate, cooked on a hot iron or in a shallow
dish. In Tibetan it is called palé.—(W. R.)

[86] Kusho is the Tibetan equivalent of “Mr.”; Tung-chen is Drung (yig)
chen-po, “chief secretary,” not a name, as one might suppose by the way
it is used in this narrative. The minister’s residence, S. C. D. says
elsewhere, was at the northern end of the town. It is a stone building
three stories high, the exterior painted yellow.—(W. R.)

[87] Farther on (p. 57) our author says 125 pages.

[88] Called in Chinese mien, and nearly the same as the Italian
spaghetti. The word is also frequently used for the Chinese
kua-mien.—(W. R.)

[89] Or, more correctly, “the cup-bearer, or teapot-bearer.” The Solpon
chen-po is one of the great officers of State both at Tashilhunpo and
Lhasa.—(W. R.)

[90] Rdo-tsad, an ingot of silver weighing fifty Chinese ounces
(taels), and also called yambu (from the Chinese yuan-pao), tarmima
(rta-rmig-ma, also pronounced tänpema), or simply do. A do is usually
exchanged for Rs. 160. Turner, ‘Embassy,’ p. 345, speaks of masses of
pure bullion called Tariema.—(W. R.)

[91] The colloquial name for Chinese in Tibet is Gya. In the official
language they are called Gya-nag.—(W. R.)

[92] Or ja-lu (ldug); also called ja lu-sa, “bowl (or place) to pour
tea in.” Usually a cup with a metal cover.—(W. R.)

[93] The northern part of Tibet, inhabited by a few pastoral tribes
only.—(W. R.)

[94] A torma is a small cone varying in height from a few inches to a
foot and more, made of tsamba, butter, sugar, etc. Sometimes the
surface is coloured, and some tormas are of great size. They are placed
on the front of the altars in rows, and are propitiatory offerings. On
the celebration of this feast, cf. J.R.A.S., vol. xxiii. (1891), p.
214.—(W. R.)

[95] Tu-Kham is probably Stod Khams, or “Upper Khamdo”—in all
probability Dérgé is meant.—(W. R.)

[96] During his first visit to Tashilhunpo, Chandra Das was received by
the Panchen rinpoche. He describes him as follows: “The Grand Lama is
twenty-six years of age, of a spare frame and middling stature. He has
a remarkably broad forehead and large eyes, slightly oblique. The
expression of his face, although highly intelligent, is not engaging,
and lacks that sympathy and dignity so conspicuous in the minister’s
countenance. The old monks of Tashilhunpo informed me that, unlike his
predecessor, the present Grand Lama was more feared than liked, on
account of his cold and self-reliant spirit. He is strict in the
observance of ceremonies and in the administration of justice, and slow
to forgive.” Kun-kyab ling is the name of the residence of the Panchen
lama, the great lama of Tashilhunpo.—(W. R.)

[97] Bogle thus describes the ceremony of blessing by the Panchen
rinpoche: “Upon the gylongs, or laymen of very high rank, he lays his
palm; the nuns (anni) and inferior laymen have a cloth interposed
between his hand and their heads; and the lower class of people are
touched, as they pass by, with the tassel which he holds in his
hands.”—C. R. Markham, ‘Narrative of the Mission of Geo. Bogle,’ p. 85.

[98] For further details on the subject see S. C. D.’s ‘Indian Pundits
in the Land of Snow,’ and Waddell, ‘Buddhism of Tibet,’ p. 173.

[99] W. Moorcroft, ‘Travels in the Himalayan Provinces,’ i. 17,
describes this feast as witnessed in Kashmir. It is there called Barat,
and is celebrated to avert impending evil. Chinese authors say it is
celebrated at Lhasa a few days after the New Year. See J.R.A.S., vol.
xxiii. (1891), p. 209.

[100] Tibetan cooks have invariably soot-covered faces; this seems as
indispensable a part of their make-up as the white cap is to the French
chef.—(W. R.)

[101] This idea is common to Chinese, Mongols, and Tibetans, among whom
“A worm has bored a hole in my tooth” is equivalent to “I have a cavity
in my tooth.” The extraction of the dead nerve confirms them in the
idea.—(W. R.)

[102] In the narrative of his first journey, Chandra Das says this is
the Panchen rinpoche’s summer residence. There is no image of the
Emperor, but an imperial tablet and a throne, or chair of state.—(W.
R.)

[103] Such tablets are always carried in official processions in
China.—(W. R.)

[104] This is known in China as la chiao, “to drag the chair.” It is
rather a mark of respect to the official being carried in the chair
than assistance to the bearers. It is a form of corvée throughout the
empire. In Tibet the Emperor’s representatives and the Tale lama and
Panchen rinpoche alone have the right to be carried in green sedan
chairs.—(W. R.)

[105] Spogs-dpon. Spogs (pron. pog) means “salary of officials,” and
more especially, “that allowed lamas by Government or the monastic
authorities.”—(W. R.)

[106] Chandra Das has given a translation of an extract from this work
in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. lv. pp. 201–203,
and in part vii. of his ‘Narrative of a Journey round Lake Yamdo’
(Palti), pp. 117–130. Though full of interesting details, it has been
thought advisable to omit it from the present work, most of the Tibetan
names of places being still unidentified. He says the work is by Lama
Tsanpo Nomenkhan, of Amdo.—(W. R.)

[107] Or rather “master-tailor,” Wu-jé (Dwu-rje) tsem-po on
Tashi-gyantsa, see infra, p. 67.—(W. R.)

[108] The second Tale lama was known by the name of Gedun-gyatso. Born
in 1476.—(W. R.)

[109] Our author says their name is written Rogyo-pa, meaning
“corpse-vulture.” According to Jaeschke, the “vulture” is go-vo, while
ro means “corpse.” Further on (p. 163) S. C. D. calls them ragyabas,
and tells us that their houses (at Lhasa at all events) must have walls
made of horns. From the fact that “horn” in Tibetan is ra-cho, we might
suppose that the name of this class of people is Ra-cho-pa, “the horny
ones.” I have never met with the name in writing.—(W. R.)

[110] I have never seen pottery made in Tibet, but know that no wheel
is used. Capt. R. B. Pemberton, in his ‘Report on Bootan’ (in
‘Political Missions to Bootan,’ p. 74), gives a minute description of
the mode of making pottery among the Butia. He remarks that “a lump of
the compost was placed on a flat board, supported on the top of three
sticks, and was kneaded from the centre outwards, until an opening had
been effected through the mass; the orifice thus made was gradually
enlarged by the person who preserved its circular form by walking round
the board on which the mass rested.... The mass thus prepared formed
the upper section of the vessel; and the lower half being wrought by a
similar process, the two parts were united together, and the vessel
completed.” The whole paragraph is very interesting.—(W. R.)

[111] Kwa-tse (or kua-tzŭ) is a Chinese term for a short riding-jacket.
The Tibetans of the better class have adopted this article of Chinese
clothing, and also their name for it. I have never heard trousers
called anything but ma-yo (smad-gyogs).—(W. R.)

[112] Cf. Sam. Turner, op. cit., p. 303.

[113] Or drung-yig, “clerk, secretary.” Khamba Dungyig means “the clerk
from Khams” (or Eastern Tibet).—(W. R.)

[114] They are usually called Peurbu in Tibetan, and by the Chinese
these people are known as Pe- (or Pieh-) pung-tzu. They are not to be
confounded with the Gorkhas, who are called Korhka. Abbé Huc,
‘Souvenirs d’un Voyage, etc.,’ ii. 267, calls them Péboun. Speaking of
those of Lhasa, he says, “Les Péboun sont les seuls ouvriers
métallurgistes de Lha-Ssa. C’est dans leur quartier qu’il faut aller
chercher les forgerons, les chaudronniers, les plombiers, les étameurs,
les fondeurs, les orfèvres, les bijoutiers, les mécaniciens, même les
physiciens et les chimistes.”—(W. R.) Balpo, or properly Palpa, is the
chief district in Western Nepal.

[115] Chos dja. Probably the yellow-pointed cloth hat with flaps, and
ending in a point on either side in front, the usual head-cover of
lamas outside their monasteries. Inside the lamaseries all go
bareheaded.—(W. R.)

[116] In the account of his first journey, he says that these “chaits”
are on top of the palace of the Tashi lama.

[117] Elsewhere he says that Shikha means “bailiff.”

[118] The syllable la, here and throughout this narrative, whenever it
is a suffix to a name of a person, forms no part of the name, but is
only an honorific expletive. It is even used after titles, as Ponbo la,
Pundib la, Lhacham la, Kusho la, etc. Chandra Das hardly ever gives the
names of the Tibetans he refers to in his narrative, because a person’s
name is never used when he or she is addressed, nor is it but rarely
mentioned. He probably never heard the names of most of the people of
whom he speaks.—(W. R.)

[119] Written grog tsang, or grog-ma tsang.—(W. R.)

[120] Or Eastern (shar) gyatso.—(W. R.)

[121] Kye-na of the map.—(W. R.)

[122] Probably Shornub is shar, “east;” nub, “west.”—(W. R.)

[123] By “Grand Lama” the author means the Panchen Rinpoche or Teshu
lama of Tashilhunpo.

[124] Called on the map Gang, Jor-gya, Patshal, Pen jang. Natog does
not appear on it. On p. 74 he calls Penagangdo, Penjang, and Pishi,
Patal.—(W. R.)

[125] I have never heard of unam; but gonam (sgo snam?) is the name
generally given to serges and foreign (Russian) broadcloth.—(W. R.)

[126] A mani lhakhang is usually a chorten around which are, under
covered galleries, rows of large prayer-wheels, or rather
prayer-barrels. I have never seen any temple attached to such
structures; but the chortens are hollow, with an opening at the base by
which clay tsa-tsa offerings can be put in the monument.—(W. R.)

[127] Doi of the maps.—(W. R.)

[128] Penam jong of the maps. Cf. Captain Turner, op. cit., 229 (he
calls it Painam), and C. R. Markham, op. cit., 78, where Bogle also
refers to it as Painam.—(W. R.)

[129] In Tibet a married woman is called chang-ma, or “wine companion.”
One of her principal duties is to present wine to her friends and
guests. It is to avoid this duty that many women enter monastic life
(S. C. D.). I think S. C. D. was misinformed. A wife is called
chung-ma, not chang-ma. Chung means “little,” and ma “mother.”—(W. R.)

[130] The metaphysical portion of the Tibetan Buddhist scriptures,
called in Sanskrit Abhidharma.—(W. R.)

[131] Or gsol gchig, i.e. “first meal.”—(W. R.)

[132] Pe li of the maps.—(W. R.)

[133] Chog-tse of the maps.—(W. R.)

[134] See J.R.A.S., n.s., vol. xxiii. p. 220. The Dung-khors’ offices
are mostly hereditary.—(W. R.)

[135] Nagpa, “enchanters or experts in incantations.” See Waddell, op.
cit., 475, 483. ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 217.—(W. R.)

[136] Or Norbu khyung hdjin (?), “the precious garuda-holder.” The
garuda (khyung) is the king of birds, according to Tibetans.—(W. R.)

[137] Pong kong of the maps.—(W. R.)

[138] Called Tho-man on the maps.—(W. R.)

[139] Ging-gu la, Yá-go, and Tuchung-Jong of the maps.—(W. R.)

[140] Called Shar cho ening on the maps. Shar, “east;” chyog (pyogs),
“quarter.”—(W. R.)

[141] Dowa targya of the map.—(W. R.)

[142] The author is slightly mistaken here. The Gyarong is on the west
border of Sze-ch’uan and identical with the Chinese Chin-chuan, while
Markham is to the west of the River of Golden Sands (Chin sha chiang),
in 29° N. lat., with its capital at Gartok (or Chiang-ka), and is one
of the easternmost provinces ruled by Lhasa.—(W. R.)

[143] Georgi, ‘Alph. Tibet.,’ p. 450, appears to refer to Dongtse when
he says, “Antequam pervenias Kiangse Feudum est Kalonii Prouse,
Castellum Vallo minutum, et Aurifodina.”—(W. R.)

[144] Kon-chog sum, i.e. Buddha, the Law and the Brotherhood (Sangha).
Protestant missionaries have, very wrongly, I think, used the word
Kon-chog as a translation of our word God, which is as untranslatable
into Tibetan as it appears to be into Chinese, unless the Mohammedan
expression Chen chu, “the real Lord,” be used.—(W. R.)

[145] Or Ngi-hok, an open quadrangle on the roof of a house, enclosed
on all sides by walls, in two of which are door-like openings (S. C.
D.). Jaeschke explains the word nyi-yol by “any screen or shelter from
the sun’s rays: awning, curtain, parasol, pent-house.”

[146] Gnas-brtan bchu-drug, the sixteen highest disciples of the Buddha
Gautama.—(W. R.)

[147] Cf. Captain Sam. Turner, op. cit., 236, and Geo. Bogle (in C. R.
Markham’s ‘Narrative of the Mission, etc.,’ 97). Bogle there says, “The
floor is of a chalky clay, mixed with small pebbles, and formed into a
smooth and very beautiful terrace, which, by the labours of a young
gylang, who every morning gets his feet upon two woollen cloths, and
exercises himself for three or four hours in skating about the room,
will, in the course of fifteen or twenty years, acquire a polish equal
to the other floors in the palace, which are not inferior to the finest
variegated marble.”—(W. R.)

[148] This image is called the Jo-vo. It is in the Lhasa Jokhang, in
the centre of the city. See my ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 105, note 2. See
also chap. vi. p. 151 of the present narrative.—(W. R.)

[149] Called in Tibetan Chos-gyong (skyong), “protectors of the
doctrine,” or Ku na gyalbo, “five great kings.” See Emil Schlagintweit,
‘Buddhism in Tibet,’ p. 157.

[150] Dzabs-drung-(pa), lit., “one near the feet of.” The expression
ku-drung-pa, “near the body,” is also used.—(W. R.)

[151] Mdah-dpon, “master of the arrow,” is a military officer of about
the rank of a general; they are given light-blue buttons (4th class) by
the Chinese authorities.—(W. R.)

[152] A Chyan-dso-pa, or Chya-djo-pa (Phyag-mdjod-pa), is a civil
officer (of 5th class of Chinese official rank) of the treasury.—(W.
R.)

[153] The minister was not correctly informed. So far as I am aware,
the Chinese never use this kind of “white board.” It is, however, in
general use among the Western Mongols, where paper is quite as rare as
in most places in Tibet.—(W. R.)

[154] A Tsipon is an accounting officer, and is assimilated by the
Chinese to a 4th class official among them.—(W. R.)

[155] One of these earrings is figured in Hooker’s ‘Himalayan
Journals,’ ii. 271. Tibetan men always, I believe, wear their earring
in the left ear.—(W. R.)

[156] I think the author means pé-tsé, the usual Tibetan pronunciation
of the Chinese pai-ts’ai, and meaning “cabbage.” “Cured in the cold
draught” is a culinary preparation unknown to me. White potatoes are
used all over Tibet; they were introduced into Bhutan in 1774 by Mr.
Bogle (see Markham’s ‘Tibet,’ p. 19). Radishes, or rather turnips
(la-pug, from the Chinese lo-po), are usually eaten raw; they are also
dried for winter use.—(W. R.)

[157] A. K. calls it Pena Nang Chu river.—(W. R.)

[158] The Tibetans neither kill nor will they eat hares. All wild fowl
are equally safe from their guns.—(W. R.)

[159] A. K. says of this place (which he reached on August 21, 1878):
“Giangche, a small town on the right bank of the Pena Nang Chu river.
The town is situated about two small hills which lie east and west, and
are united by a saddle; the western hill is further connected with the
chain of mountains to the north. On the eastern hill, which is about
600 feet above the surrounding plain, is a large fort, ... and on the
western hill a Gomba inhabited by five hundred Dabas. In this Gomba
there is a Chiorten, called Pangon Chiorten, which is considered by the
Tibetans a most holy place. Besides the fort and temple, there are
about one thousand dwelling-houses on three sides of the double hill.
Woollen cloth called Nhambu is manufactured. There is a large market;
and traders from Nepal and China reside here.” See ‘Report on the
Explorations in Great Tibet,’ by A. K., p. 31.

[160] But women throughout Tibet do most of the selling in the shops
and the markets.—(W. R.)

[161] Ta Laoyeh is the honorific appellation claimed by all subordinate
Chinese officers in Tibet, from the rank of Pa-tsung (sergeant) to that
of Shou-pei, or major. The Chinese officer in command of the post of
Gyantse is, I believe, a Chien-tsung, or lieutenant. On the Tibetan
military organization, see chap. vii. p. 180.—(W. R.)

[162] The ordinary kang is a measure of land in which about 400 lbs. of
seed-grain can be sown. The State tax on each kang is 50 srang (or
ounces of silver) a year.—(S. C. D.)

[163] On the pay and allowances of the Chinese troops in Tibet, see
J.R.A.S., n.s. xxiii., p. 276–278. In many places along the route
between Lhasa and Tachienlu the Chinese soldiers are never paid in
cash, but only receive brick-tea, the value of which is arbitrarily
fixed by the paymaster, who cheats the poor devils most disgracefully.
A srang is an ounce of silver, the Chinese tael.—(W. R.)

[164] Georgi, op. cit., p. 451, says of this town, Kiangse: “Civitas
præclara et planire ad radius montium. Ad Urbis, præsidium Arx est
inædificata rupi, musis, et fossis aquæ vivæ circumvallata. Cœnobium
vero adeo vastum, et magnificum, ut quum millia aliquot Xacaitarum
contineat, alterius cujusdam civitatis speciem præreferre videatur.”

[165] Born in A.D. 1595 in S.E. Tibet (see Waddell, op. cit., p.
4).—(W. R.)

[166] Probably an error for Dorje chyak, Vadjrapani.—(W. R.)

[167] In the Lhobrak country lama Ugyen-gyatso visited the celebrated
shrine of Seh Guru Chhoi wang, built after the model of the famous
monastery of Nalendra, in Magadha. “The shrine ... contains some
important relics, among others a stuffed horse of great sanctity
(belonging to the Great Guru), which is called Jamling ninkhore, or
‘the horse that can go round the world in a day.’ Observing that the
horse was bereft of his left leg, U. G. inquired the cause, and was
told how the leg had been stolen by a Khamba pilgrim with a view of
enchanting the ponies of Kham.” See ‘Report of Explorations from
1856–86,’ p. 23. Probably the objects seen at Gyantse by our author
were originally votive offerings, and now simply curios.—(W. R.)

[168] Probably written Ston ran-pa, “one who may teach; a doctor.” See
‘Indian Pundits in the Land of Snow.’ It is probably the same degree as
Ge-she.—(W. R.).

[169] Both Bogle (op. cit., p. 107) and Captain Turner (op. cit., p.
284) mention the fondness of the Tibetans of Shigatse for
palmistry.—(W. R.)

[170] All these are Chinese dishes.—(W. R.)

[171] Gong khang means “upper house.”—(W. R.)

[172] Most likely imported into the country by some Chinese. I have
never seen a greyhound in Tibet, and they are rare even in China and
Mongolia.—(W. R.)

[173] Apparently we should read “husbands,” for the author has told us
that this accomplished young woman was the wife of the two sons of the
Chyag-dso-pa.—(W. R.)

[174] Jaeschke, ‘Tib.-Engl. Dict.’ s.v. oug-pa, says this word is used
to designate a medicinal plant. It usually, however, means “hand.” Soap
is known and occasionally used in Tibet, though not manufactured there.
It is usually called langle (written “glang-glad”). It is brought there
from India or China, the former kind being the best.—(W. R.)

[175] See chap. vii. p. 171.

[176] Shar-li means, literally, “Eastern bell-metal;” and Nub-li,
“Western bell-metal.”—(W. R.)

[177] On July 31, 1879, the thirteenth incarnation of the Dalai lama
was placed on the throne of Lhasa. Chandra Das speaks of this event in
the following terms: “The princely infant, into whose person the spirit
of the late Dalai had passed, had been brought up till now in a small
palace of Gyal-kup, near Lhasa. Last year the Tashi lama, at the
invitation of the Emperor of China and the high officials of Tibet, had
gone to Lhasa to examine the infant Dalai, and report if the spirit of
the last Dalai had really passed into his person. For several days
oracles were consulted, the result being to establish beyond doubt that
the infant was the incarnate Shenrazig, the patron of Tibet. On the day
when he pronounced the infant’s claim to the pontifical throne to be
good and valid, a magnificent rainbow is said to have appeared over the
palace of Potala. The Tashi lama had fixed July 31 for the Dalai’s
accession to the throne” (see ‘Narrative of a Journey to Tashilhunpo,’
p. 25).

[178] The Khamba are much dreaded throughout Tibet; frequent mentions
are made in the narratives of the Indian explorers of their lawless
ways. For fuller particulars regarding them and their country, I must
refer the reader to my ‘Land of the Lamas’ and to the narrative of A.
K.’s journey.—(W. R.)

[179] See supra, p. 75.

[180] De-le of our maps.—(W. R.)

[181] Speaking of the dances of Tibet, our author says elsewhere that
Padma Sambhava, in the eighth century, A.D., is the reputed originator
of religious dances in Tibet. He introduced the war-dance and the
famous masqued dance, or bag chams (hbag hchams), the former being but
a modification of the latter. At present the great religious dance of
Tibet is the black-hat dance (Dza nag cham), which was introduced in
the eleventh century, A.D., to commemorate the assassination of the
iconoclast King Langdarma by Lama Lhalun Paldor, the murderer having
disguised himself in black when seeking to approach the king. The
ordinary dance of Tibet (dzabs bro) is performed by men and women on
all or any occasion of rejoicing. Sometimes they dance in pairs,
sometimes in a ring, and at others the women hand-in-hand on one side,
the men in like fashion on the other. (S. C. D.) Cf. Markham, ‘Tibet,’
p. 92; E. F. Knight, ‘Where Three Empires Meet,’ p. 202 et sqq.;
Waddell, ‘Buddhism of Tibet,’ pp. 34, 477, 515 et sqq.

[182] Cf. infra, p. 116.

[183] The office here mentioned is well known in Sikkim. See the Sikhim
Gazetteer, p. 304, vi. The amged, as colloquially pronounced, is the
active ruler of the monastery, and often a very important person.

[184] This Chinese Buddhist monk (or ho-shang) came to Tibet in the
reign of King Srong-btsan gambo (A.D. 629–698). He is usually called
Mahadeva, not Dharmatala.—(W. R.)

[185] Geo. Bogle, op. cit., p. 106, witnessed a somewhat similar dance
at Tashilhunpo on New Year’s Day. An effigy of the devil was likewise
burnt. Tibetans use the word atsara much as the Chinese do yang
kuei-tzŭ, or “foreign devils,” though it was originally the name given
to learned Indian pilgrims. The word is Sanskrit, acharya.—(W. R.)

[186] See Captain Samuel Turner, ‘Embassy,’ p. 314.

[187] According to Chinese authorities, this, or a similar feast, is
celebrated at Lhasa in the second moon of the year. Another analogous
festival is held on the 30th day of the sixth moon. See J.R.A.S.,
xxiii. pp. 212, 213.—(W. R.)

[188] The Chang-tang is not an uninhabited desert, for numerous tribes
of Drupa pasture their herds there the year long, and keep up a
considerable trade with Lhasa and Shigatse, which they supply with
salt. It has been repeatedly crossed by European explorers.—(W. R.)

[189] Cf. the legend of the miraculous tree sprung from the hair of
Tsongkhapa, and still growing in the courtyard of Kumbum gomba. ‘The
Land of the Lamas,’ pp. 67, 68.

[190] On the new year festivities, see Waddell, op. cit., p. 513.

[191] On lamaist monachism, see Sarat Chandra Das’s ‘Indian Pundits in
the Land of Snow,’ and Waddell, op. cit., pp. 169 et sqq.

[192] In the narrative of his journey in 1879 (p. 26), S. C. D. thus
describes the headdress of the ladies of wealth and fashion at a
festival at Tashilhunpo: “Their headdresses struck me much. The
prevailing form consisted of two, or sometimes three, circular bands of
plaited hair placed across the head and richly studded with pearls,
cat’s-eyes, small rubies, emeralds, diamonds, coral and turquoise beads
as large as hens’ eggs, pearl drops, and various sorts of amber and
jade encircled their heads, like the halo of light round the heads of
goddesses. These circles were attached to a circular headband, from
which six or eight short strings of pearls and regularly shaped pieces
of turquoise and other precious stones hung down over the forehead.”

[193] Farther on (p. 138), our author tells us that the incarnate
goddess Dorje phagmo also wore her hair long.

[194] See my ‘Diary of a Journey through Mongolia and Tibet,’ p. 256,
where two such tea-churns are shown.—(W. R.)

[195] I think our author was misinformed. Rampa (Polygonum viviparum,
L.) does not grow as described here. Rampa seed is eaten, after being
parched and ground, mixed with tsamba. Choma (Potentilla anserina),
also eaten all over Tibet wherever it occurs, is dug out of the ground;
it is not a grain, however, but a small root. I think Chandra Das must
refer to choma, though it is a small tuber not over 1½ inches long.—(W.
R.)

[196] Lama Serap gyatsho says there are three different kinds of Lobas,
viz. Lo Karpo, Lo Nagpo, and Lo Tawa, or Lo Khabta. The Lo Karpo means
“white, and little civilized.” The Lo Nagpo means “black, and little
civilized.” The Lo Tawas, or stripped Lobas, meaning “quite barbarous
Lobas,” live on the lower part of the Tsangpo, on the east bank. They
are said to kill the mother of the bride in performing their marriage
ceremony, when they do not find any wild men, and eat her flesh. Report
on Explorations, etc., p. 7. See also ibid., pp. 16, 17; and Pundit
Nain Singh’s Journey, in Jour. Roy. Geo. Soc., vol. xlvii. p. 120.

[197] Og khang means “lower house,” as opposed to Gong khang, “upper
house, or story.”—(W. R.)

[198] Torma offerings are cones made of tsamba, butter, treacle, and
sugar, and not unfrequently of cardboard, and sometimes painted red,
blue, or green. They are placed in front of the images of malignant
gods as propitiatory offerings. See Waddell, op. cit., 297. On the word
nyihok, see supra, p. 77.—(W. R.)

[199] One of these libation bowls is represented on p. 90 of ‘Land of
the Lamas.’—(W. R.)

[200] Lha-sre is the usual title of sons of very high officials. It
means, literally, “son of a god,” but may be conveniently translated by
“prince.”—(W. R.)

[201] See note 1, p. 115.

[202] The “presiding deity” was probably Dorje sempa or Vajrasattva.
The Kala Chakra mysticism and its standard work in the Tibetan Tanjur,
called ‘Dus-gi khorlo,’ which I once tried to read, have remained
beyond my comprehension. Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Buddhism in Tibet,’ pp.
46–57, and p. 242 et sqq., gives many details on the subject. See also
Waddell, op. cit., 15, 144, 397.—(W. R.)

[203] This official is referred to, p. 94.—(W. R.)

[204] Chandra Das’s experience recalls to my mind the prophecy made me
in 1889 by an incarnate lama in the Tsaidam. ‘Land of the Lamas,’ pp.
164, 165.

[205] Rong usually means a fertile valley where cultivation is
possible, or which is cultivated.—(W. R.)

[206] Gab zi on the maps. It must be the same as A. K.’s Upsi village,
where, he says, there is a large Chinese stage-house.—(W. R.)

[207] Called Shetot on the map.—(W. R.)

[208] A. K. says that there is also at this village a large Chinese
post station. These post stations are called tang in Chinese; the
building itself is a kung kuan. On the Dugpa sect, see Waddell, op.
cit. He says it originated in the XIIth century.—(W. R.)

[209] Also known as Ralung la, according to A. K.—(W. R.)

[210] Jaeschke, Dict., s.v. o-ma., says that this name designates the
plain on which Lhasa stands. Georgi, op. cit., p. 451, mentions between
Gyantse and Nangartse, Lhomar and Lhamentung. The first place I do not
find on any maps at my disposal. The latter, however, corresponds with
the Langma of the maps. According to the maps, the Karo la is 16,600
feet high.—(W. R.)

[211] On such religious services, see Waddell, op. cit., 353, 494 et
sqq.—(W. R.)

[212] The name is written Bsam-lding, meaning, apparently, “fancy
floating.” It was founded, according to Chandra Das’s authorities, by
Shon-nu drupa.—(W. R.)

[213] Tibetan, Mongol, and Chinese doctors ask their patients but few,
if any, questions. They are supposed to diagnose the disease by the
general appearance of the patient and by his pulse and the condition of
his urine.—(W. R.)

[214] Khyab-gong and Khyab-gong rinpoche are titles given all the
higher incarnate lamas. The word means “protector.”—(W. R.)

[215] Such pills are usually called mani rilbu. On the ceremonies
performed in making them, I must refer the reader to my paper on the
subject in Proceedings of the American Oriental Society, October, 1888,
p. xxii. On the subject of “general teas,” see Huc, ‘Souvenirs,’ vol.
ii. p. 122; ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 104; and Waddell, ‘Buddhism of
Tibet,’ p. 191.—(W. R.)

[216] Sa-ga is the name of the 15th lunar mansion (gyu-kar), and also
of a month of the year. Dao is Da-wa, “a month.” On the new moon
festivals, see Waddell, op. cit., 501.

[217] This custom prevails in China, where it is called fang sheng, “to
let go living creatures.”—(W. R.)

[218] See ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 164.

[219] Gurkum is saffron. Chusum may be rhubarb.—(W. R.)

[220] Cf., however, note, p. 131, where he says that the founder of
this lamasery was Shon-nu drupa.—(W. R.)

[221] See ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 106. On Tamdrin, see Waddell, op.
cit., 62 and 364.

[222] Georgi, ‘Alph. Tibet.,’ p. 451 says, “In Australi eorum (montium)
latere Monasterium, et Sedes est Magnæ Renatæ Lhamissæ Turcepamò. Eam
Indi quoque Nekpallenses, tanquam ipsissimam Deam Bavani venerantur et
colunt.” Mr. Geo. Bogle visited her at Tashilhunpo in 1775: “The mother
went with me into the apartment of Durjay Paumo, who was attired in a
gylong’s dress, her arms bare from the shoulders, and sitting
cross-legged upon a low cushion. She is also the daughter of the lama’s
brother, but by a different wife. She is about seven and twenty, with
small Chinese features, delicate, though not regular, fine eyes and
teeth.... She wears her hair—a privilege granted to no other vestal I
have seen; it is combed back, without any ornaments, and falls in
tresses upon her shoulders.... I never visited her but this time. Mr.
Hamilton used to be there almost every day.” Markham, ‘Tibet,’ pp. 105,
108, 109.

[223] Hailo must be the Hang of the maps.—(W. R.)

[224] Georgi, ‘Alph. Tibet.,’ p. 451, speaking of Lake Palti, says,
“Palti: Lacus, alias Jamdro aut Jang-so nuncupatus. Maximæ amplitudinis
est, quam homo pedibus, uti indigene tradunt, nonnisi octodecim dierum
spatio circumire queat. Sic totus ambitus 300. circiter milliariorum
esset.” A. K. calls the town Pete Jong, and on the maps it figures as
Pe de Jong, or Piahte-Jong. The Chinese call it Pai-ti, but I have been
told by Tibetans that the name is Pé-di (written Spe-di).—(W. R.)

[225] The name is also written Sha-ma-lung and Demalung.—(W. R.)

[226] The Khamba barchi of the native explorers. It is also called
Kampa lacha.—Khamba chyang tang means “Plain north of Khamba.”—(W. R.)

[227] A. K. thus describes this bridge: “The bridge is formed of two
iron chains, one on each side; from the chains thick ropes are
suspended to the depth of four yards; by these ropes planks, three feet
long and one foot broad, are supported lengthwise, so as only to admit
of one person crossing at a time. The chains are stretched very tight,
and are fastened around huge blocks of wood buried beneath immense
piles of stone; the length of the bridge is about 100 paces.” ‘Report
on the Explorations,’ p. 31. This is the usual style of Chinese
suspension bridge common throughout Western China and Tibet. This one
was in all likelihood built by the Chinese in the eighteenth century. I
am not aware that the Tibetans ever build this style of bridge; theirs
are usually of wood and of the cantilever description. See my ‘Diary of
a Journey,’ p. 304.—(W. R.)

[228] Chinese authors say that convicts used to be confined at this
place. See Jour. Roy. As. Soc., 1891, p. 78.—(W. R.)

[229] On the maps this place is called Tsha-bu-na.—(W. R.)

[230] Called Chiang-li by the Chinese.—(W. R.)

[231] The name is also written Nyer-tam. The Chinese call it Yeh-tang.
Atisha came from India to Tibet in A.D. 1083. His proper Indian name
was Dipankara Srijnana.—(W. R.)

[232] What the Chinese call chan. They are ridiculously short on the
high-road between Lhasa and China, and probably elsewhere. This is so
as to make the ula less oppressive, and I suspect it has something to
do with the allowances of the Chinese officers who have to travel over
it, and which are regulated by stages, not by miles travelled.—(W. R.)

[233] I have always heard policemen called sa sung (srung) pa by
Tibetans. The word used by our author seems to be khor che (byed) pa,
which would correspond to “patrol-men.” Huc says that Lhasa is about
two leagues in circumference, and A. K. that it is about six miles.—(W.
R.)

[234] Doring (or rdo ring) means “ancient stone,” or “stone from long
ago.” On the inscription here referred to, see Jour. Roy. As. Soc. (new
series), vol. xii. 486 et sqq.; and vol. xxiii. p. 264. Yu-tog zamba
means “blue roofed bridge.”—(W. R.)

[235] Better known by its popular name of Cho or Jo khang, or Lhasa
Jo-wo khang. A. K. calls it Jhio. He also mentions Azimabad (Patna)
merchants as having shops in Lhasa.—‘Report on the Explorations,’ p.
32. See also Waddell, op. cit., 300 et sqq.

[236] These “fringes” are cotton strips on which are printed charms
(mantras). Usually the figure of a horse occupies the middle of the
strip. They are called lung-ta, or “wind-horse.” E. Schlagintweit,
‘Buddhism in Tibet,’ p. 253, and plate xi. The “inscribed banners”
belong to the same class of objects, and have also prayers or passages
from the scriptures printed on them. Georgi, ‘Alph. Tibet.,’ p. 509,
refers to these “flag-poles” as being called Tarpo che (tar-pai
shing?), “Arbor salutaris, depulsoria mali.” See also Waddell, op.
cit., 468 et sqq.

[237] Mutton fat is a common substitute for butter in tea among the
Tibetans, and is not always used as a pis aller, but in preference to
butter.—(W. R.)

[238] A dzo is a tenth of an ounce (sang), or about two-thirds of a
rupee in weight. In India its equivalent is a tola.—(W. R.)

[239] The Buddha’s death is said to have occurred on the 15th of the
4th month, which only occasionally falls on June 1.—(W. R.)

[240] “Outside the gate (of the Jo khang) there is a stone pillar in a
poor state of preservation: it is the tablet containing the alliance of
Tang Te-tsung with his nephew. On either side of the pillar are old
willows, whose aged trunks are bent and twisted like writhing dragons.
It is said that they date from the Tang period.” Jour. Roy. As. Soc.
(new series), vol. xxiii. p. 264. This inscription bears date A.D.
783.—(W. R.)

[241] See I. J. Schmidt, ‘Geschichte der Ost-Mongolen von Ssanang
Ssetsen,’ p. 35. According to Tibetan historians, this same princess
(or Kung chu, her name was Chin-Cheng), the wife of King Srong-btsan
gambo, introduced into Tibet, among other things, the art of pottery,
grist-mills, looms, etc. Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p.
49. Chinese authors (see Jour. Roy. As. Soc., vol. xxiii. p. 191)
attribute to her influence the first use of winepresses, paper, ink,
the Chinese almanac, and the introduction of the silkworm. This
princess was not a daughter of the Emperor Tai-tsung, but a member of
his family. She appears to have travelled from China to Lhasa by the
Hsi-ning road, which passes by the sources of the Yellow River.—(W. R.)

[242] On the various celebrated images of the Buddha, see ‘Land of the
Lamas,’ p. 105, note 2. Kunyer is the “keeper of images.”—(W. R.)

[243] Maitreya (Chyamba, in Tibetan) is the Buddha to come in the last
period of this cycle, and Dipankara (Mar-me dzad) is the Buddha of the
first period. The historical Buddha, or Sachya tubpa, is the Buddha of
the present era.—(W. R.)

[244] Our author calls it “a fossil rock ... discovered in a rock
cavern in Tibet.” I can offer no explanation of the nature of this
relic.—(W. R.)

[245] A river of Magadha famous in early Buddhist history, and in which
the Buddha is said to have bathed after attaining omniscience.—(W. R.)

[246] This king reigned over Tibet at the end of the ninth century,
A.D. He appears to have been a fervent follower of the Bonbo religion.
He was murdered in 900 by a lama who had disguised himself so as to be
able to approach the king, and went through clownish tricks and dances.
The murder of the king is still fêted by dances, in which the
participants wear costumes resembling those of the murderer of the
iconoclast. See supra, p. 114.—(S. C. D.)

[247] Presumably Chyi (phyi), “outside;” and ra-wa, “an enclosure.”

[248] I suppose this name means “innumerable beings; legions of beings
(gro-vo); a host in himself.” The title To-wo or, “Angry,” applies to a
whole class of deities of the Protector (or Chos-gyong) class.—(W. R.)

[249] A wandering lama and saint who lived in Southern Tibet in the
eleventh century, and who taught by parables and songs, some of which
have considerable literary merit. The two principal works ascribed to
him are an autobiography, or ‘Nam-tar,’ and a collection of tracts
called ‘Lu bum,’ or “the myriad songs.” They are still among the most
popular books in Tibet. See Nineteenth Century, Oct., 1899, pp.
613–632.—(W. R.)

[250] Though I have not a copy of Milarapa’s ‘Lu bum’ with me, I feel
sure that this anecdote is taken from it.—(W. R.)

[251] Ramoche means “a large enclosure”; it was probably the name of
the locality on which the famous temple was built, and not the original
name of that structure.—(W. R.)

[252] A. K. (op. cit., p. 33) mentions this chorten which he calls
Giang Bimmoche, “erected in honour of a Tibetan hero who is said to
have killed 100,000 of his enemies (Chinese) on the spot.”—(W. R.)

[253] The princess is said to have been buried in this temple.—(W. R.)

[254] Georgi, ‘Alph. Tibet.,’ p. 242, says, “Magiæ Doctores Nga Rambà
dicti, diabolicæ hujus sapientiæ mysteriis initiantur, Magica Laurea
solemniter ornantur in duobus Lhassæ Cœnobiis Ramoie Chintopà & Morù
Chinpà nuncupatis.... Oracula sunt tum publica tum domestica, quæ
Populi, quæ Cives, quæ sacri ac profani Magistratus adeant responsa
capturi.”

[255] Or Ta-chien-lu, on the border of Sze-chuen.—(W. R.)

[256] Pomda appears to be Pungde, a little post-station two days’ ride
from Chamdo, and south-east of that town. It is called by the Chinese
Pao-tun. See my ‘Diary of a Journey,’ p. 316.—(W. R.)

[257] Amdo is that portion of the western border-land of the Chinese
province of Kansu and Sze-chuen which is occupied by Tibetan tribes.
This anecdote is also found in Ugyen-gyatso’s relation of his
exploration, ‘Report on Explorations from 1856 to 1886,’ p. 31.

[258] Cf. Huc, ‘Souvenirs d’un voyage dans la Tartarie et le Thibet,’
vol. ii. p. 258; and ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 214.

[259] Georgi, op. cit., p. 406 et sqq., describes very fully and
accurately this famous temple, of which he also gives a ground plan. He
calls it the Lahpranga Lhassensi. This description agrees very closely
with that of our author, and is highly interesting, as the analogies
between its style of architecture and that of Christian churches are
discussed.—(W. R.).

[260] Phagpa was given the government of Tibet by the Emperor Kublai in
A.D. 1260. The first of the Phagmodu kings was Nyakri btsan-po, who is
said to have ascended the throne of Tibet (then a little principality
south of the Tsangpo, in the Yarlung valley) B.C. 313. See I. J.
Schmidt, op. sup. cit., p. 23; and Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von
Tibet,’ pp. 39–41. From B.C. 313 to A.D. 1260 is such a long period of
time, that we are hardly able to say that the date of the introduction
of tea into Tibet has been fixed. It is probable that the Tibetans did
not use tea before the eighth century, at the earliest, and its use
only became common in recent times. No mention, I believe, is made of
tea in the works of Milarapa (eleventh century), nor in any of the
older books known to us in the Tibetan language.—(W. R.)

[261] According to Chinese authors, the selection of incarnate lamas by
the drawing of lots from a golden vase dates from 1793. See Jour. Roy.
As. Soc., vol. xxiii.; ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 290; Waddell, op. cit.,
245 et sqq. and 279, note 2; also Huc, op. cit., vol. ii. p. 348.
François Bernier, in his ‘Voyages’ (1723), vol. ii. p. 310, gives some
interesting details about the reincarnation of the Grand Lama, as told
him by an attaché to a mission from the King of Little Tibet to
Aureng-Zeb.—(W. R.)

[262] Among the strange events which occur on the birth of a
reincarnation of the Tale lama may be mentioned “the blossoming, in the
immediate vicinity of the birthplace, of fruit-trees some months before
their usual season; the casting of two or more young by animals which
as a rule do not cast so many at a birth; and the sudden recovery from
fatal illnesses of persons coming in contact with the newborn child.”
See ‘Report on Explorations,’ made by A. K., p. 32.—(W. R.)

[263] See Waddell, op. cit., p. 478. He calls him “the
Necromancer-in-Ordinary to the Government.” He was first brought to
Tibet by Padma-sambhava, the founder of Lamaism in the middle of the
eighth century.—(W. R.)

[264] A small and fertile district a little to the east of Lhasa. The
chief town in this district is usually called Kong-po gyamda. Explorer
K. P. visited it in 1883 (?). He says that “there are about twenty
Nepalese shops and fifteen shops of Tibetans at this place.” See
‘Report of Explorations in Butan and Tibet,’ p. 15.—(W. R.)

[265] Cf. Ugyen-gyatso’s account of this discovery in ‘Report on the
Explorations,’ p. 31. The place of his birth was “Paruchude, near Nam
Jong, in Takpo,” according to the explorer K. P., op. sup. cit., p.
8.—(W. R.)

[266] I.e. “foreigners;” literally, “outside-country.” The word has no
connection, as was once supposed, with Feranghi or Franks.—(W. R.)

[267] Our author tells us further on (p. 216) of a woman married to two
men not related. Elsewhere he makes mention of a lamasery in which
monks and nuns cohabit, and bring up their children in their
profession. Polygamy also obtains among the wealthier Tibetans, who
have probably adopted it from the Chinese, and monogamy has a few
votaries. See ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 211 et sqq.

[268] Meaning, literally, “pillars of southern wood.” The “southern
wood” is probably the same as the nan mu or teak of the Chinese.—(W.
R.)

[269] The term yang-yig usually means “musical score,” the lamas using
sometimes a descriptive score to teach chanting.—(W. R.) Lu kang means
“Snakehouse.”

[270] A medicinal plant.—(S. C. D.)

[271] See Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. p. 70, and Huc, op. cit., ii.
p. 194.—(W. R.)

[272] “In the faubourgs there is a quarter where the houses are built
entirely with horns of oxen and sheep. These curious buildings are
extremely solid, and present a rather pleasing aspect. The ox-horns
being smooth and whitish, and the sheep-horns, on the contrary, black
and rough, these strange building materials lend themselves
marvellously well to endless combinations, and form on the walls
designs of infinite variety; the spaces between the horns are filled
with mortar. These houses are the only ones which are not whitewashed.”
Huc, ‘Souvenirs d’un voyage,’ vol. ii. p. 254.

[273] The Kung-chu came to Tibet A.D. 639 (see I. J. Schmidt, op. cit.,
p. 341). He there says (translating from the Bodhimur) that when the
princess reached the spot where the Ramoche temple now stands, the cart
on which was the image of the Buddha (Jo-vo) stopped of itself, and
could not be made to move forward.—(W. R.)

[274] Dolma, or Drolma (Sanskrit Tara). The two wives of King
Srong-btsan gambo are worshipped under this name. The Chinese princess
is called Dol-kar, or “the white Dolma,” and the Nepalese princess
Dol-jang, or “the green Dolma.” The latter is prayed to by women for
fecundity. On the worship of Dolma, see Waddell, op. cit., p. 435 et
sqq.

[275] The god of eternal life; in Sanskrit, Amitāyus.

[276] The Ka-dro (mkah-hgro) are nymphs or fairies, all friendly to
man. In Sanskrit they are called Dakini. See Waddell, op. cit., p. 366.

[277] Mumen, “a precious stone of dark blue, but inferior to the azure
stone, occasionally used for rosaries.” Mention is also made of mumen
dmar-po (“red mumen”). Jaeschke, ‘Tib.-Engl. Dict.,’ s.v. mu-men.

[278] From what the author says a little later, it would appear that,
on the contrary, the Tale lama is very accessible. Manning called
repeatedly on him in 1811, and Huc tells us there was no difficulty
about being admitted to his presence.—(W. R.)

[279] Cf. Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. p. 285.

[280] The earliest name of Mount Potala was Marpo ri, “the red hill.”
King Srong-btsan gambo is said to have built a palace on its summit,
and it was occupied by the kings of Tibet down to the time of the fifth
Tale lama, who built about the middle of the seventeenth century the
present palace. See Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p. 49.
Our author says the palace was built “by the fifth Dalai lama and his
illustrious Regent Desi Sangye-gyatso.” In connection with our author’s
audience of the Grand Lama, it is interesting to read Manning’s
account, which agrees with it very closely.—(W. R.)

[281] Manning says of the then Tale lama (Lozang lung-tog-gyatso by
name), “The lama’s beautiful and interesting face and manner engrossed
almost all my attention. He was at that time about seven years old; had
the simple and unaffected manners of a well-educated princely child.
His face was, I thought, poetically and affectingly beautiful.... I was
extremely affected by this interview with the lama. I could have wept
through strangeness of sensation.” See Markham, op, cit., pp. 265, 266.
I am sorry I have not now access to Nain Singh’s report of his
interview with the Tale lama in 1866; but, if I remember rightly, it
contains some interesting details on his audience with the Dalai lama
Trin-las-gyatso.—(W. R.)

[282] Water used for oblations in Tibet is usually coloured (or
perfumed?) with saffron. See Waddell, op. cit., p. 298.—(W. R.)

[283] Manning says (op. cit., p. 265), “The ceremony of presentation
being over, Munshi and I sat down on two cushions not far from the
lama’s throne, and had suchi brought us. It was most excellent, and I
meant to have mended my draught and emptied the cup, but it was whipped
away suddenly, before I was aware of it.” Suchi is sol (gsol) ja, the
polite term for “tea.” “Perfumed tea” is the Chinese hsiang pien
ch’a.—(W. R.)

[284] Tonmi Sambhota introduced the alphabet of India into Tibet, and
negotiated the king’s marriages with his two famous consorts. Gar
(Mgar) was an equally famous general of the same epoch, and Prince
Gungri gung-tsan is, I think, Srong-btsan gambo’s grandson. See Emil
Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p. 47 et sqq.—(W. R.)

[285] There are seventy-five gods bearing this name. The gon-po
(mgon-po) are the fiercest of the terrifying type of divinities.—(W.
R.)

[286] On this famous Tibetan statesman (“Tisri vir ingenii
sagacissimi,” as Georgi, op. cit., p. 329, calls him), see Georgi’s
notice, loc. cit., and Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. p. 186.

[287] Meaning “the ornament of the world.”

[288] Pronounced Tale lama. This Mongol name is in common use in Tibet.
He is also known as Gyal-wa-gyatso, or Kyab-gong Rinpoche; but this
latter title is applied likewise to all very high incarnate lamas. A.
K.’s Kiamkun Ringboche is but an inaccurate transcription of Kyab-gong
Rinpoche, which means “the Precious Protector.”—(W. R.)

[289] Or rather De-wa-chan, “the happy (place)” in Sanskrit Sukavati;
also called Nub-chyog Dewachan, or “the western abode of bliss.”—(W.
R.)

[290] On the Tale lamas, see Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. p. 285 et
sqq., and Waddell, op. cit., p. 227; the dates given in the former work
are derived from Chinese sources, and differ by a year or two from
those usually accepted by Tibetans.—(W. R.)

[291] I believe that the Lhasa mint is in this Gadan phodang. Tibetan
silver coins (tanka) are inscribed Nam-gyal Gadan phodang chyog-las,
“From the Gadan phodang of the Victorious (Tale lama).” See Lacouperie,
‘The silver coinage of Tibet.’—(W. R.)

[292] Manning calls the King “Ti-mu-fu, or Hu-lu-tu.” See Markham,
‘Tibet,’ p. 264. I am unable to explain satisfactorily these names,
though the first has a rather Chinese tournure. The second may be the
Mongol Hutuketu, “incarnate saint of the first rank.” The Chinese call
the Regent Tsang Wang, or “King of Tibet.” See also, on the selection
of this functionary, ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 289, and ‘Report on
Explorations, 1856–1886,’ p. 31.

[293] In this connection the following is interesting: “Some few years
ago the Grand Council of Lhasa (Caphyn) was composed of three men,
named Semeling, Tengeling, and Kunduling. A man of influence named Sape
Satya complained to the Emperor of China of the oppressive and
inefficient rule of these men. The Chinese commissioner, ‘Kissen,’ came
from China, apprehended Semeling, and took him off as a prisoner to
China.”—Ashley Eden, ‘Report on the State of Bootan,’ p. 131; cf. Huc.,
op. cit., ii. 287 et sqq.

[294] He is also called Chyi-lon Hutuketu. He is Chancellor of the
Exchequer; the Chinese Amban is his colleague, and his approval of any
expenditure is necessary.—(W. R.)

[295] See Huc., op. cit., ii. 286.

[296] Our author’s informant must have written ja tsag, meaning
“tea-strainer”; but Chasag is spelt rgyal tsab, and means “viceroy.”
The Lhasa Amban is in like manner called Gong-ma tsab, “the Emperor’s
deputy.”—(W. R.)

[297] Cf. Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. pp. 11, 220, 239, 242. The
nominees to these positions are confirmed by the Emperor of China.—(W.
R.)

[298] This button is given them by the Emperor (or rather the Amban).
The lama minister does not wear one. According to Chinese authorities,
the Kalon have only 3rd class, or blue, buttons. The coral button
belongs to the 1st class.—(W. R.)

[299] On the Dungkhor, see Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. pp. 220, 243.

[300] Our author forgets the “squeezes,” which swell all salaries to
very respectable sizes.—(W. R.)

[301] A lama (Tse-dung) and a layman.—(S. C. D.)

[302] On the military inspections made by the Amban, see Peking
Gazette, January 24, 1886, and Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii, p. 216.

[303] Of course most of the Djongpon only attend to a very few of these
duties. They squeeze the people under them, exact as much service as
possible, and, together with the lamas, get everything they can out of
them, and only stop when their exactions appear likely to cause serious
trouble.—(W. R.)

[304] In Chinese, called Liang-tai. On the Chinese military
establishment in Tibet, see Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii, p. 275 et
sqq.; and on the Amban’s duties, ibid., p. 7 et sqq.

[305] In the Anglo-Tibetan war there were four Magpons or Mafeas, and
eight Dahpons.

[306] Thos. Manning (Markham, ‘Tibet.,’ p. 274) says, “It is very bad
policy thus perpetually to send men of bad character to govern Tibet.
It no doubt displeases the Grand Lama and Tibetans in general, and
tends to prevent their affections from settling in favour of the
Chinese Government. I cannot help thinking, from what I have seen and
heard, that they would view the Chinese influence in Tibet overthrown
without many emotions of regret.”—(W. R.)

[307] This is not correct. Traders only have a permit issued either at
Ta-chien-lu by the Chun-liang-fu or at Lhasa by the Amban allowing them
to enter or leave Tibet. All officials, even common soldiers—the latter
only when going to Tibet or when on duty—have ula supplied them.—(W.
R.)

[308] A kang is a piece of land to sow which 10 yak-loads of barley are
used, or one which pays 50 to 55 ounces of silver a year as taxes.—(S.
C. D.)

[309] The 4th Panchen rinpoche was called Pal-dan Tan-pai nyi-ma. He
was born in 1782. He died in the early fifties. Turner, ‘Embassy,’ p.
230.—(W. R.)

[310] Chamdo, in Eastern Tibet. It is an ecclesiastical fief under the
rule of a high dignitary of the Gelugpa sect who bears the title of
Phapa lha.—(W. R.)

[311] In other words, he should take all he can possibly get without
forcing the misser to open revolt.—(W. R.)

[312] This seems impossible, in view of the large flocks owned by most
of the people. One in a thousand would already be a heavy tax.—(W. R.)

[313] A pretty good allowance, one would think. Cf., on this courier
service, Huc, op. cit., vol. ii. p. 450.—(W. R.)

[314] In China most of the couriers are opium-smokers.—(W. R.)

[315] A lebor is, says our author, equal to 720 yards. It is the
Chinese li, but I have heard the word always pronounced leu. A li,
however, is about 600 yards.—(W. R.)

[316] I fancy our author means rearrange or remove his dress. A
travelling Tibetan never changes his dress.—(W. R.)

[317] There are cases on record in which a despatch from Lhasa has been
delivered in Peking within a month.—(W. R.)

[318] Cf., however, Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc. xxiii. pp. 216–218. See also
‘Report on Explorations made by A. K.,’ p. 33. The Chinese punishment
of the cangue is now adopted throughout Tibet, the criminals wearing it
being also heavily chained. The cangue is called in Tibetan,
tse-go.—(W. R.)

[319] This, I fancy, is hearsay testimony, and, I think, should be
taken with several grains of salt. The Tibetans are not cruel, though,
like all Asiatics, they believe in deterring from crime by the terror
of the punishment.—(W. R.)

[320] All this does not add materially to our knowledge of Tibetan
business methods. It would seem that the Tibetans follow the rules
concerning loans which obtain in China and India, but the text is not
very clear.—(W. R.)

[321] See Hooker’s ‘Himalayan Journals,’ vol. i. p. 117, and vol. ii.
p. 202 et sqq. He says, in speaking of the Dewan, “Considering,
however, his energy, a rare quality in these countries, I should not be
surprised at his cutting a figure in Bhutan, if not in Sikkim itself”
(op. cit., vol. ii. p. 241).—(W. R.)

[322] I fancy our author refers to the hsiang pien cha usually drunk by
Chinese in Peking and elsewhere in the north. Jasmine flowers are dried
with the tea, and impart to it a strong and agreeable perfume.—(W. R.)

[323] It is strange that our author tells us nothing of this famous
lamasery of Chagpori. We know, however, that it is one of the oldest in
Tibet, that the medical school is attended by some 300 students, and
that it supplies with medicines, most of which are simples collected by
the lamas themselves, not only Lhasa, but remote parts of Tibet and
Mongolia. I have seen remedies bought at Chagpori used in the Tsaidam,
the Koko Nor, and all over Eastern Tibet.—(W. R.)

[324] Amdo being used here in its broadest sense as including all
North-east Tibet. These Golok (or Golog) trade with Kumbum, Sungpan (in
North-west Sze-chuen), and with the Lhasa country. “At Pherchode (near
Namdjong in Takpo) many traders called ‘Golokpas’ come with large herds
of yaks to trade, and annually visit this place in the months of
October and November with merchandise, chiefly consisting of salt and
wool.” ‘Report on the Exploration, from 1856 to 1886,’ p. 8.

[325] This is at all events a good story, but I doubt whether the
Golok, any more than the Chinese, Mongols, or other Tibetan tribes,
kiss in public.—(W. R.)

[326] I have never heard of any district of this name. This mode of
saluting is a Mohammedan one.—(W. R.)

[327] Tsongkhapa, the great lama reformer in the 14th century,
instituted these annual prayer meetings. The most important one is the
“great prayer meeting” (mon-lam chen-po) in the early part of the
year.—(W. R.)

[328] Chinese authors make mention of a similar festival, held at Lhasa
yearly, beginning on the latter part of the second moon (middle March),
and lasting for a month. Another of like description is held in the
sixth moon. See Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., xxiii. pp. 212, 213.

[329] See supra, p. 70.

[330] This game is one of the very few national games of Tibet, but is
probably of foreign origin. I have never seen it played in Northern or
Eastern Tibet. In Bhutan the people appear to be specially skilful at
it.—(W. R.)

[331] Seng chen is a Chinese title, meaning “the Monk Minister.”—(W.
R.)

[332] Huc, op. cit., vol. ii. p. 338, tells us of the pleasure the
Regent of Lhasa found in learning from him the Roman alphabet. I myself
have found it the one subject which never failed to interest Tibetans,
lamas, and laymen.—(W. R.)

[333] On this ceremony of burnt-offering, chin (sbyin), “alms;” sreg,
“to burn up,” see Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Buddhism in Tibet,’ p. 249 et
sqq.; and Waddell, op. cit., p. 498.

[334] See supra, p. 66.

[335] Ding means something like “village.” It is a very common
termination to names of places throughout Tibet.—(W. R.)

[336] Daba, or Draba, is the name applied to all lamas irrespective of
rank. The word lama is only used when speaking of some high dignitary
in the church, or of a gelong, or “priest.”—(W. R.)

[337] The Gyade country, which extends from the high-road from
Nagchukha to Hsi-ning in Kansu and to Chamdo, is not under the rule of
Lhasa, it is a purely Bonbo country. I traversed this region from west
to east in 1892. Khams Gyarong refers to the Chin chuan, a small region
on the Upper Ta-tung river, in North-west Sze-chuen, where this
religion has many adherents.—(W. R.)

[338] The present Bonbo religion is hardly distinguishable from Tibetan
Buddhism, except in a few peculiar reversals of lamaist customs, and in
the names of the gods. See ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 217. Schiefner,
Sarat Chandra, and Laufer have published translations and texts of some
Bonbo works.—(W. R.)

[339] Not a very intelligible or satisfactory explanation. See Waddell,
op. cit., p. 287.

[340] The little water-bottle carried by gelongs, and with which they
moisten their mouths in the forenoon when they are not allowed to eat
or drink. Waddell, op. cit., 201.—(W. R.)

[341] The Sham-tab is a plaited petticoat of red pulo; it is worn by
all lamas. The tongu is the upper shawl.

[342] By which he means, I suppose, the Chang tang Bonbos of Gyade.—(W.
R.)

[343] This is also done among Buddhists, as in the Palti lake country.
See supra, p. 139.

[344] Moorcroft, ‘Travels,’ ii. 68, refers to Bonbo lamas when he
describes the lamas of Pin (in Ladak), who allow their hair to grow and
become matted, and who wear black. Nain Singh makes mention of the
Bonbo country of North Tibet, which he calls “the Ombo, or Pembo
country,” Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, xlvii. p. 107.—(W.
R.)

[345] I have heard of Chinese claims to the discovery of the telephone,
but never before of Tibetan. I fancy the lama had heard of the Morse
transmitter, which may have been taken for a little hammer struck on a
board.—(W. R.)

[346] Visited by Ugyen-gyatso in 1883.

[347] Our author farther on (p. 241) says that these volumes are about
six feet long by eighteen inches broad. This appears more likely. The
age of the Chinese books is certainly greatly exaggerated.—(W. R.)

[348] Dob-tha jong of the map. Our author passed through it when
returning to Darjiling, see infra, p. 244.

[349] About five miles from Khamba djong.—(W. R.)

[350] The same road followed by him and Chandra Das when going to
Shigatse.—(W. R.)

[351] It is a shrub (Symplocos) common in Sikkim. See Hooker,
‘Himalayan Journals,’ ii. 41. Tso (or Tsos) is not, I believe, the
Tibetan name of the plant, but only means “dye.”—(W. R.)

[352] See infra, p. 256; the details there given do not quite agree
with what he says on this occasion.—(W. R.)

[353] Our author gives several pages of text on the ethics, etc., of
the Bonbo, but they are so technical that I have been obliged to omit
them. The Bonbo terminology used by him is practically the same as that
of the lamas. He tells us that the Bonbo are divided into six sects,
the most popular of which is the Tu lug, to which the people of the
Chang tang and Gyade belong. The Shen-tsang lug is the second in
importance. See also supra, 208.—(W. R.)

[354] Ta, “horse;” lung, “valley.” On the name Yamdok tso, see Journ.
Buddh. Text. Soc. of India, IV. Pt. III. p.t.—(W. R.)

[355] The Choi-khor-tse of the map.—(W. R.)

[356] Certain dancers represent the celestial musicians or kinnara,
called in Tibetan mi ham-chi. These are probably what S. C. D. refers
to. Ri-o-tag Jong of the map.—(W. R.)

[357] Probably Nyema lung of the map.—(W. R.)

[358] Called Loh-bu Jong on the maps.—(W. R.)

[359] Tang-da of the maps.—(W. R.)

[360] Ton namgyalling Jong of the maps. Altitude 12,430 feet.—(W. R.)

[361] Tibetans from North-east Tibet. These were more probably Changpa
from the Chang tang, for the Horba do not bring salt to Central
Tibet.—(W. R.)

[362] Kedesho Jong of the maps. A. K., who passed through it the same
year, only a fortnight before our author, calls it Chitishio Jong. He
says there are about a thousand houses in it.—‘Report on the Explor.
made by A. K.,’ p. 84.—(W. R.)

[363] Shanpa means “boatman,” not boat.—(W. R.)

[364] Ta-chien-lu, on the border of Sze-chuen. The Dorje-tag (Rdo-rje
brag) lamasery has given its name to a sect. See Waddell, op. cit., 73.

[365] This seems to be the same custom as obtains in Eastern Tibet,
where all corpses are kept until the crops have been reaped, and then
either fed to vultures, burnt or otherwise disposed of. See ‘Land of
the Lamas,’ p. 286. The text is not quite clear, for it does not state
whether or not the corpses are kept permanently in the houses of the
parents.—(W. R.)

[366] Called Tsong-ka on the maps. All this route was again gone over
by Ugyen-gyatso in 1883. See ‘Report on Explorations from 1856 to
1886,’ p. 28 et sqq. He says (p. 29) that the river at Tsong-ka is over
a mile broad. King Me agtsoms was the father of Tisrong detsan, of whom
our author has so often occasion to speak. He reigned over Tibet in the
latter half of the seventh century, A.D.—(W. R.)

[367] The Gokhar la crossed by Nain Singh in 1873. Dechen djong is on
the Kyi chu, a day’s journey east of Lhasa.—(W. R.)

[368] Chyema (bye-ma) means “sand,” nagshu probably means “black.”—(W.
R.)

[369] I cannot conceive how a chorten can resemble a dorje (vajra). The
comparison is not a happy one.—(W. R.)

[370] Perhaps she came from Litang. The women there wear a large silver
plaque on either side of the head, which meet over the crown in a
point, so that, from a distance, the head-dress looks not unlike a
pointed cap.—(W. R.)

[371] These are the subjects usually seen in such frescoes throughout
Tibet and Mongolia.—(W. R.)

[372] Behor must be Bihar gyalpo, one of the five great patron saints
or Chu-gyong, of Tibet. Noijinhamara may be the god of wealth.—(W. R.)

[373] Wu-khang would appear to mean “central room or house.” I have
never heard of bottling up the breath or spirit of the dead among any
Buddhist people. This must be a survival of some pre-Buddhist
superstition.—(W. R.)

[374] Tibetan historians inform us that Padma Sambhava (Peme
chyung-nas) was called to Tibet from Kafiristan (O-rgyan) by Santa
Rakshita (Dji-wa tso), who could not withstand the onslaught of the
Bonbos. See Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p. 52 et sqq.

[375] Written Bsam-yas. I do not believe that this interpretation of
the word Samye is correct. San yang, it is true, means “three styles”
in Chinese, but Chinese yang would never be pronounced ye in Tibetan.
Waddell, op. cit., 266, translates the name, “the academy for obtaining
the heap of unchanging meditation.” Nain Singh visited Samye (he calls
it Sama-ye Gomba) in 1873. “It is surrounded by a very high circular
wall, 1½ mile in circumference, with gates facing the four points of
the compass. On the top of this wall the Pundit counted 1030 chhartans
(chorten) made of burnt bricks.... The interiors of the (stone) walls
of these temples are covered with very beautiful writing in enormous
Hindi (Sanscrit) characters....” Jour. Roy. Geog. Soc., xlvii. p. 114.
Sarat Chandra says that a work, entitled ‘Pama Kahthang’ (‘Peme
Katang’?), contains a full description of this famous lamasery. See
also Waddell, op. cit., 266–268.

[376] This iconoclast, who appears to have been born in A.D. 861,
interdicted the Buddhist religion in Tibet in 899, and was murdered in
900. See Csoma, ‘Tib. Grammar,’ p. 183. Cf. Emil Schlagintweit, op.
cit., p. 59, and I. J. Schmidt, ‘Geschichte der Ost Mongolen,’ pp. 49,
362, et sqq. In the last work is the history of the murder of the king
by the hermit, Lha-lung palgyi dorje. It agrees with what our author
has told us supra, p. 153, when describing the origin of the “black
hat” dance.—(W. R.)

[377] Our author says, only “in the year fire-tiger of the thirteenth
cycle,” and “again, after a period of ten years, in the month of May
(fire-tiger of the fourteenth cycle).” This is impossible, as
fire-tiger is the third year in the cycle of sixty years. Assuming the
first date to be correct, the second must be A.D. 1808. Waddell, op.
cit., 267, says the library was destroyed about 1816.—(W. R.)

[378] Nain Singh speaks of a town called Sawe, where the Tibetan
treasury is kept. See Markham’s ‘Tibet,’ p. cxiii. This is Samye.
Explorer A. K. passed here in October, 1882, but his notes contain
nothing about this celebrated place. Ugyen-gyatso visited it in
October, 1883, but his report also contains little of interest. See
‘Report on Exploration from 1856 to 1886,’ pp. 28, 29. Csoma, ‘Tib.
Grammar,’ p. 183, says it was founded A.D. 749. Cf. Emil Schlagintweit,
‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p. 53. Ssanang Ssetsen (I. J. Schmidt,
‘Geschichte der Ost Mongolen’), p. 41, says the building of the temple
was begun in A.D. 811, and finished in 823. The date given by Csoma is
probably correct, as King Tisrong detsan’s father was a contemporary of
the Tang Emperor Chang-tsung, who reigned in 684. Tisrong reigned from
740 to 786. He was born, according to Csoma, A.D. 728.—(W. R.)

[379] Ugyen-gyatso also speaks of the woods and gardens, and especially
the walnut trees of this section of country. He refers also to the
excellent roads. See ‘Report on the Explor. from 1856 to 1886,’ p. 28.
A. K. speaks of the village of Do as Dushio. Tso (shio) means village,
and is an abbreviation from grong-tso (pr. drong-tso).—(W. R.)

[380] There is a Reting gomba on the big broad between Lhasa and
Hsi-ning, not far from Nagchukha. The party referred to may have come
from this neighbourhood, though the Dokpa of that region are not
Horba.—(W. R.)

[381] Phamu bub of the maps.—(W. R.)

[382] Jang on the maps.—(W. R.)

[383] Quoting from the Dsamling yeshe, our author says elsewhere that
there are here eighteen silver tombs of the successive Phagmodu lama
rinpoche.

[384] Trees sprung from the hair of saints or deities are frequently
found in Tibet and in other Buddhist countries. The most famous is the
“white sandalwood tree” of Kumbum, described by Huc and other
travellers. Chandra Das tells us (supra, p. 117) of a juniper within
the walls of Tashilhunpo, which had sprung from the hair of Gedun-dub,
the first Panchen rinpoche. Explorer Ugyen-gyatso (‘Report on Explor.
from 1856 to 1886,’ p. 28) refers also to the Densatil forest. Csoma,
‘Tib. Gram.,’ p. 185, says the Dän-sa tel (gdan-sa tel) monastery was
founded in A.D. 1156.—(W. R.)

[385] The Dsamling yeshe calls it Zangri khang mar.—(S. C. D.)

[386] Elsewhere called Labkyi Donma.—(S. C. D.)

[387] From Sangri khamar the traveller turned westward along the
river-bank till he came in front of Logang (or Lu-kang-tu), where there
is a ferry-boat.—(W. R.)

[388] Nyen on the maps. I find no mention of this bridge in the reports
of other explorers.—(W. R.)

[389] Called Chethang by all the other explorers. A. K. calls it “a
large town containing 1000 houses, a bazar, a gomba, and a fort,”
‘Report of Explor. made by A. K.,’ p. 83. Explorer Ugyen-gyatso, who
visited in October, 1883, says, “Mahomedan shops were found in the
market in which wheat and meat soup were sold. It is curious that the
lama notes that pork is specially cheap at this place, three annas
being the price paid for a pig’s head, and eight annas for a quarter.
Radishes, carrots, and yak’s flesh are also sold in the public market,”
‘Report of Explor. from 1856 to 1886,’ p. 27. Nain Singh, who visited
Chetang in 1873, says there are 700 lamas in the two monasteries, see
Jour. Roy. Geog. Soc., xlvii. 117.—(W. R.)

[390] This legend is told in the thirty-fourth chapter of the ‘Mani
kambum,’ and our author gives an abstract of it. I have translated the
full original text in my ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 355 et sqq.—(W. R.)

[391] Called on the maps Zomba Lha khang (“Ancient Palace”). The name
is variously written U-bu la-gang, Ombo lang-gang. See Emil
Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p. 42. It is said to have been
built by King Nya-kri tsanpo (IVth century, B.C.?), or by King Totori
nyan-tsan (IIIrd century, A.D.). I. J. Schmidt, op. cit., p. 317
(quoting the Bodhimur), says it was called Ombre lang-ti.—(W. R.)

[392] Tag chhen Pomda on the maps.—(W. R.)

[393] The young monk was certainly misinformed. Potatoes were
introduced into Bhutan by Warren Hastings, and spread from there into
Tibet within the last hundred years. On the eastern border of Tibet
potatoes have been introduced by the Chinese and the French
missionaries.—(W. R.)

[394] Ras-chung Dorje gragspa, or “Dorje drapa of Rachung,” was born in
1083. This lamasery, which he founded, is also called Ras-chung phug
gomba, “the lamasery of the cave of Ras-chung.”—(W. R.)

[395] Probably porphyry.—(W. R.)

[396] This is a common practice in the Nyingma sect. Explorer K. P.
found at Thum Tsung (Lower Tsangpo valley) a monastery in which “both
men and women are allowed to preach and live together.” He found the
same practice in the adjacent village of Bhal gonpa and Marpung.
‘Report on Explor. from 1856 to 1886,’ pp. 9 and 12.—(W. R.)

[397] These blue tiles are certainly of Chinese manufacture.—(W. R.)

[398] For this legend see I. J. Schmidt, op. cit., pp. 21 and 316. Also
Emil Schlagintweit, ‘Die Könige von Tibet,’ p. 39 et sqq. Ugyen-gyatso
visited this spot in 1883, and refers to this legend, op. cit., p.
27.—(W. R.)

[399] Called Bya (pronounced Chya). It is called Cha Sa on the maps. A.
K. speaks of it as “the temple of Chyasa (Cheuse) Lhakhang.”—(W. R.)

[400] Tong-shoi on the maps. A. K. mentions, 1½ miles west of this
point, the Gerpa Duga ferry.—(W. R.)

[401] Or Tsong du ta-tsang, according to Ugyen-gyatso.—(W. R.)

[402] This lamasery shares with Dorje-tag, previously referred to, the
honour of being the supreme one of this sect. Waddell, op. cit.,
277.—(W. R.)

[403] Ugyen-gyatso says that should the married member of the Tertaling
family die without issue, “the throne” Lama, in spite of his vows, is
expected to marry the widow, and raise up his own heirs to govern. A
total failure of heirs is attended by widespread calamities—war,
famine, and general disaster. ‘Report of Explor. from 1856 to 1886,’ p.
29.

[404] A. K. says there are 600 houses in Gong-kha Jong and 200 around
the Gongkha Chorten (i.e. Gong-kar chosde).—(W. R.)

[405] Chiakri on the maps.—(W. R.)

[406] Called Lingbo chen on the maps. Our author’s narrative is not at
all clear in this part. If, as he states, the Re chu (Shab chu) flows
by Samdong, the maps are wrong, for they make this river to flow seven
miles east of that village (San chong on the map). It is probable that
the brook (?) which flows by Samdong is an affluent of the Shab chu,
but the maps do not show any watercourse at this point.—(W. R.)

[407] Usually Tibetans drink their chang cold. Heating it is the
Chinese fashion.—(W. R.)

[408] Chong la on the maps.—(W. R.)

[409] I am unable to follow on the maps our author’s route from the
Chong la to Sakya. He appears to have taken a very roundabout way.—(W.
R.)

[410] This, our author has told us elsewhere, is a distinguishing sign
of all Nyingma religious and lay buildings.—(W. R.)

[411] Labrang means literally “dwelling of a lama dignitary.” Phodrang
is a palace or residence of a secular officer.—(W. R.)

[412] Phagpa (or Dro-gon Phagpa) is said to have been born A.D. 1233,
and became ruler of Tibet in 1251. Csoma, ‘Tib. grammar,’ p. 186. The
latter date is, however, inconsistent with facts, as Kublai only
mounted the throne in 1260, and became actually seated on the throne of
China in 1280, and it was he who made him Kuo shih, or “Preceptor of
the realm.” H. H. Howorth, ‘History of the Mongols,’ i. p. 506 et sqq.,
makes no mention of Kublai raising Phagpa to be ruler of Tibet.

[413] Abbreviation of Ponbo chenpo, or “great officer.” The Sakya
monastery was founded in A.D. 1071, according to Csoma, op. cit., p.
197. Phagpa was a nephew of the famous Sakya Pandita, the author of
many standard works of Tibetan literature.

[414] Buyantu reigned from 1312 to 1320. Ssanang Ssetsen says that the
lama Sakya Sribadra was head of the church under him. I. J. Schmidt,
op. cit., p. 121. The Saskya-pa sect was, prior to the rising of the
present Gelugpa sect, the most powerful of the reformed schools of
Tibetan Buddhism.—(W. R.)

[415] A spike of iron or bronze with a triangular section. The top of
it terminates in a dorje. It is used in exorcisms. Emil Schlagintweit,
‘Buddhism in Tibet,’ p. 257 et sqq., and Waddell, op. cit., pp. 341,
483, and 488.—(W. R.)

[416] On this lamasery, see supra, p. 66.

[417] Apparently the earrings are attached to the ear-covers of gold,
not to the ear itself.—(W. R.)

[418] Called in Tibetan, Ya chyil dung-kar; and in Chinese, Yu hsuan
pai-lei. Both nations consider such shells as treasures of inestimable
value. There is one in China, kept at Fu chu by the Ti-tuh. See Peking
Gazette, February 23, 1867, and one at Lhasa. ‘The Land of the Lamas,’
p. 110.—(W. R.)

[419] “In 1794 the Tale lama, under orders from the Emperor, erected
special hospitals for small-pox patients, in which they were supplied
with food and every necessary, and which were in care of a special
officer.... The same plan has been adopted by the authorities of
Tashilhunpo and Chamdo” (Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., n.s. xxiii. p. 235). I
am not aware that these hospitals are kept up at the present day.—(W.
R.)

[420] The marmot is called Chyi (phyi)-wa. Mong I am unable to explain;
perhaps it is the same animal which our author calls elsewhere the
sremong (sri), and which is smaller than a cat, with tawny hair. The
skin, he adds, is much used in witchcraft. The skin is blown up after
putting inside it a slip with the name of the person it is desired to
injure on it. The victim dies of an inflated body within seven
days.—(W. R.)

[421] The Chiblung tsangpo, the Upper Arun, flows through this
valley.—(W. R.)

[422] On this lake, see supra, p. 211.

[423] At this point our author’s route joined that which he had taken
when coming into Tibet.—(W. R.) The Che chu is the Arun, see supra, p.
42.

[424] Certainly not of their own invention or manufacture.—(W. R.)

[425] I think these “classes” are more theoretical than real, and that
these remarks are probably borrowed from some work, based on Indian
notions. The idea of caste is un-Tibetan as it is un-Chinese. Rab
(rabs) means “family, race, social class.” Rab-kyi rabs means “upper
superior class;” Rab-kyi ding, “middle superior class;” Rab-kyi tama,
“lowest superior;” Ding-kyi rab, “superior middle class,” etc.,
etc.—(W. R.)

[426] By “subjects” I fancy our author must mean serfs or tenants
(misser).

[427] Cf. Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., n.s. xxiii. pp. 228–230. See also
Waddell, op. cit., 553.

[428] The information contained in this section has been compiled, our
author says, from “a legal work.” I doubt if its rules are in practice.
Borche appears to be hbor-wa chye (hyed), “to cast away, to abandon.”
Den yo is bden, “truth;” and perhaps gyogs (for yo), “covering of.”—(W.
R.)

[429] This would appear to refer to temporary marriages.—(W. R.)

[430] So far as the Khamba are concerned, I think our author is not
correct in his statement. That it may have once been as he says is
highly probable, but at present it is certainly not so; intercourse
with the Chinese has, I believe, caused not only the people of Eastern
Tibet, but of all Tibet to adopt to a great extent their ideas
concerning marriages between near relations.—(W. R.)

[431] Neither is it in Khamdo. See my ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 211 et
sqq.—(W. R.)

[432] I hardly imagine that our author intends to convey the idea that
this is a custom of the Tibetans.—(W. R.)

[433] See Waddell, op. cit., p. 88. He says the “soul-extracting lama”
is called hpobo.

[434] Cf. ‘Land of the Lamas,’ p. 287.—(W. R.)

[435] The tuisol, or “cleansing ceremony” (bkrus, washed; gsol, to
pray), is performed on numerous occasions and for various purposes. I
suppose that by “relics,” remains after cremation are here meant.—(W.
R.)

[436] Waddell, op. cit., 491, calls this sacrifice to the manes of the
deceased ting-shag.

[437] Our author is not quite right here, as the Tibetans have borrowed
the major part of their pharmacopœia from China and India. Most of
their medical works are purely Chinese or Indian, and I do not believe
they have much more, if even so much, knowledge of surgery as the
Chinese, who are terribly ignorant themselves in this art. Tibetan
medicines are in high favour among the Chinese and Mongols.—(W. R.)

[438] This is the usual Chinese method of inoculation.—(W. R.)

[439] Our author was misinformed. Snakes are very rare along the
western border of China, venomous ones especially.—(W. R.)

[440] Camel’s milk must be as great a rarity in most parts of Tibet as
is elephant’s milk, another remedy much prized in that country.—(W. R.)

[441] Probably the same as the Lo Tawa, or “stripped Lhopas,” mentioned
by lama Serap-gyatso, ‘Report on Explor. from 1856 to 1888,’ p. 7. This
explorer distinguishes three classes of Lhopas—Lho karpo, or “white
Lhopas,” who are somewhat civilized; Lho nagpo, or “black Lhopas,” who
are a little less civilized; and the Lho tawa (kra-pa), or uncivilized,
literally “mottled” Lhopas. Cf. also, op. cit., pp. 16, 17, and Nain
Singh’s remarks in Jour. Roy. Geog. Soc., vol. xlvii. p. 120.

[442] Our author gives the name of this disease as gzah-nad. Jaeschke,
‘Tib. engl. dict.,’ translates this word by “apoplexy,” adding that, in
Western Tibet it seems to be used only for “epilepsy.”—(W. R.)

[443] Klu nad, or Klin gnod-nad, meaning that the Nagas brings about
the disease. Mje nad is mdje nad.—(W. R.)

[444] These charmed banners are the lung-ta, or “airy horses,” of which
mention is frequently made in this work.

[445] This remark applies equally well to all diseases in Buddhist
estimation.

[446] Jaeschke, ‘Tib. engl. dict.,’ calls this disease pags chu, “skin
water;” snying chu, “heart water;” dmu chu, “dropsy, especially in the
chest and belly.” On the medical knowledge of the Tibetans, see Journ.
Bengal Asiat. Soc., iv. pp. 1 et sqq.—(W. R.)

[447] In this game, which is an invention of one of the Panchen
rinpoches, dice are thrown, by which the players get different
positions in the various heavens or hells—(S. C. D.) Our author also
mentions a game called te-pi, or rocket, but, unfortunately, does not
give any idea of the game itself. See also ‘Report U.S. National
Museum,’ 1893, p. 723.—(W. R.)

[448] Chinese authors say that, “during the 7th and 8th moons they
(the Tibetans) put up tents along the river banks, and men and women
bathe together in the river, it being symbolical of the purification
ceremonies of the 13th of the 3rd month (in China),” Jour. Roy. Asiat.
Soc., No. xxiii., p. 213.—(W. R.)

[449] On the 29th day of the moon.—(W. R.)

[450] Our author mentions also the following festivals:—

   15th of  1st moon: Buddha’s birthday.
   15th of  3rd  ,,   First preaching of the Kalachakra tantra.
    8th of  4th  ,,   Buddha became a mendicant.
   15th of  4th  ,,   Buddha’s nirvana.
    5th of  5th  ,,   Feast of god of medicine.
    4th of  6th  ,,   Buddha’s first sermon.
   10th of  7th  ,,   Birth of Padma chyung-nas (Padma Sambhava).
   15th of  7th  ,,   The snowy mountains are worshipped.
   25th of 10th  ,,   Birth of Tsongkhapa.

Cf. Waddell, op. cit., 502 et sqq.

[451] Known in southern Buddhist countries as varsha or Barsat. Yar is
dbyar (usually pronounced chyar), “summer;” and nas (gnas), “abode.” I
do not believe the practice is generally observed. Cf. Waddell, op.
cit., 224, and supra.—(W. R.)

[452] See p. 114. On the New Year festivities, see Waddell, op. cit.,
518.

[453] I have witnessed a number of these kurim, or guilt-offering
ceremonies, but none of such magnitude as the one held at Lhasa. See,
for a picture of this procession at Lhasa, Georgi, ‘Alph. Tibet,’ p.
212.—(W. R.)

[454] Toma is droma (or doma), the root of the potentilla anserina, and
called chuoma in Eastern and North-eastern Tibet. It is mealy, and
tastes like a bean rather than a potato. It is about 1½ inches
long.—(W. R.)

[455] All these omens of good and bad luck are of equal importance at
any time of the year.—(W. R.)

[456] I have seen these mummers in North-eastern Tibet. See ‘Land of
the Lamas,’ p. 246.—(W. R.)

[457] On the second day of the new year, all the inhabitants gather
together to witness a feat performed by two men, each of whom in turn
mounts on a wooden saddle and slides down a strong rope fastened from
the fort walls to a post buried about nine feet in the ground. ‘Report
on the Explorations of A. K.,’ p. 33. Cf. Jour. Roy. Asiat. Soc., n.s.,
xxiii. p. 209, and ‘Report on lama U. G.’s Exploration,’ p. 32, where
we learn that on the second day of the New Year the Nachung chos-gyong
prophesies the events of the year beginning. See also Huc, ‘Souvenirs
d’un voyage,’ ii. 375 et sqq.

[458] The monlam chenpo was instituted by Tsongkhapa in 1407. Csoma,
‘Tib. gram.,’ 187.

[459] Cf. lama Ugyen-gyatso’s account of the Shalnyo’s rule in ‘Report
on explor. from 1856 to 1888,’ p. 32. Also A. K., op. cit., p. 33; and
Huc, op. cit., ii. 380. He calls this rule of the Shalnyo, the “Lha-ssa
Morou,” but he says it only lasts six days; but all other authorities
agree in saying that the rule of the city is turned over to the Dabung
lama for a month.—(W. R.)





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