Chapter III: Journey to Dongtse (1)

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.