Chapter VIII: Front Matter (8)

We hope we shall not be accused of Buddhistic tendencies if we say that there appears to us something more amiable in the Dchiahour's misgivings than in the unpitying orthodoxy of his spiritual fathers. Be that as it may, the anecdote shows that the practices of a religion will often cling to a man long after its tenets appear to have been totally eradicated from his mind. We must add, however, that when the day of trial came, Samdadchiemba boldly confessed his faith as a Christian, and even stood a very fair chance of becoming a martyr, in spite of his backslidings, on the subject of metempsychosis. Well might the missionaries value their neophyte, for (with one doubtful exception) no new convert was added to their church during their long and perilous journey. Although hospitably, and even courteously received every where--under the humblest Mogul tent and in the wealthiest Lama-houses--though listened to with deference as men of prayer and piety by every class of Tartars, (perhaps of all nations the most inclined to religious feelings,) they made no proselytes. After reading their own account of their efforts, one remains convinced of the difficulties which must stand in the way of conversions from Buddhism. Idolatry, as it is represented in story books for children, under its grossest form of fetichism, may be easily conquered, but the vast spirit of Pantheism is more difficult to grapple with. That Buddhism, as understood by the more enlightened Lamas, is Pantheism, there can be no doubt. All created beings emanate from, and return to, Buddha--the one eternal and universal soul--the principle and end of all things, and of whom all things are the partial and temporary manifestations. All animated beings are divided into classes, that have each of them in their power the means of sanctification, so as to obtain, after death, transmigration into a higher class, until, at last, they enjoy plenitude of being by absorption into the eternal soul of Buddha. This doctrine, simple enough when explained by the superior class of Buddhists, is overlaid with superstitions for the vulgar; and it is this double character of Buddhism, varying according to the mind of the believer, that, in our opinion, constitutes the great difficulty in the path of proselytism. Every Buddhist is provided for the defence of his faith with the very armor best fitted to protect him in his particular social and intellectual sphere. The enlightened Lamas of Thibet take refuge in the vastness and antiquity of their system, which we ought, perhaps, rather to term a philosophy than a religion. Their comprehensive creed can tolerate all others which appear but as subdivisions of itself--partial and limited views of the great universal law, of which it has been given to them alone to embrace the whole. They boast with reason that no precepts, not even those of the Gospel, are more noble; no practices more tolerant than those of Buddhism. Even the doctrine of equality among men, which has rendered Christianity so attractive to the oppressed of all other creeds, was preached by Buddhists centuries before our era. The belief in the progressive enlightenment of mankind, and the perfectibility of our nature, which are the very essence of Buddhism, has seduced many philosophical minds in all ages and in all countries, and will not easily be abandoned by the Lamas--the dispensers of knowledge, whose mission is that of teachers--for the levelling doctrine of original sin. On the other hand, in Mongolia and Tartary, among a more ignorant race, MM. Huc and Gabet had to cope with another sort of opposition. The lower orders of Buddhists know nothing of the abstract doctrine, but are hedged in by petty customs and daily observances, which are the most powerful defence for narrow minds. In vain did the missionaries endeavor to gain an insight into the creed of these simple tribes, who believed firmly they knew not exactly what. When questioned on this subject, they would refer the inquirer to the Lamas, who in their turn would avow their ignorance as compared to the "saints." All agreed in one point, that the doctrine came from the West, and that there alone it would be found pure and undefiled.

When we had expounded to them the truths of Christianity, they
never argued with us, but merely answered with great coolness,
"We have not all the prayers here. The Lamas of the West will
explain all--will account for every thing; we believe in the
traditions from the West." These expressions only served to
corroborate a remark we had had occasion to make during our
journey through Tartary; namely, that there is not a single
Lama-house of any importance, of which the chief Lama does not
come from Thibet. A Lama who has travelled to Lha-Ssa is sure
on his return to obtain the confidence of every Tartar. He is
considered as a superior being--a seer, before whose eyes the
mysteries of lives past and to come have been unveiled in the
very heart of the "eternal sanctuary" in the "land of
spirits."[15]

It appears just possible to us, that this obscurity in speaking of things spiritual, which, after all, can at best be seen but as through a glass darkly, is not so peculiar to Buddhism as M. Huc and his companion suppose; and that the dogmas of any religion are more difficult of comprehension to minds who have not been prepared from infancy for their reception than is generally imagined. When we are told, for instance, by our author, that in a "few plain words" he exposed the doctrines of his church, we confess that we have our doubts as to any lucidity of expression being sufficient to convey to untrained hearers a clear idea of the doctrine of transubstantiation among others.

Be that as it may, westward our travellers determined to bend their steps, in search of knowledge at the fountain-head; resolved to visit Thibet, and to attack Buddhism in its very stronghold, Lha-Ssa. To this change in their original plan, we owe the most interesting portion of these travels. Although they made no secret of their intentions of proselytism, they were received in all the Lama-houses as fellow-laborers in the field of religious instruction, and as such became initiated into all the habits of Lamanist life. One cannot help reflecting how different would be the reception of Lamas, who should visit Rome, with the avowed purpose of converting the subjects of His Holiness to Buddhism. The details given by M. Huc on Lamanism in general are more complete than any we remember to have read, and are given with a natural piquancy rarely to be met with in writers on such grave subjects.

Tartary is, perhaps, of all the countries in the world, the most priest-ridden; the Lamas forming, it is said, one-third of the entire population. In most families, with the exception of the eldest son, who remains "a black man," all the sons are Lamas. Their future destiny is decided from the very cradle, by the fact of their parents causing their heads to be shaved. As they are vowed to celibacy, it is probable that Chinese policy has favored the natural bias of the people towards a religious life, in order to arrest the progress of population. Certain it is, that while the government of Pekin suffers its own bonzes and priests to remain in the most abject condition, it has always honored and encouraged Lamaism in Tartary and Thibet. The remembrance of the exploits of their ancestors is not yet extinct beneath the tents of the Moguls, and legends of conquest and traditions of empire still serve to wile away the long leisure hours of their roving life. Notwithstanding two centuries of peace, and the enervating influence of Chinese misgovernment, if an appeal were made to Tartar fanaticism, hordes might yet pour down from the vast country, extending from the frontiers of Siberia to the farthest limits of Thibet, which would make the Celestial Emperor tremble on his throne in Pekin. The spread of Lamaism is the best safeguard against such a contingency, and the empty honors paid by the sceptic and worldly Chinese to the different Grand Lamas, have no other motive than a desire to appease the susceptibility of the Tartar tribes. The Lamas are divided into three classes: those that remain under the tent, and whose mode of life differs little from that of the other members of their family; the travelling Lamas--a migratory kind of animals--who, with staff in hand, and wallet at their backs, wander from place to place, trusting to Tartar hospitality for their maintenance; and lastly, the Lamas who live in communities, or convents, and devote themselves more especially to study and prayer. Most of the Lama-houses enjoy large revenues, the result of imperial foundations, or the liberality of native princes. These are distributed at certain periods among the Lamas, according to their rank in the hierarchy. Some religious communities, or aggregations of Lama-houses, such as that of Grand Kouren, number 30,000 Lamas, and its head, the Guison-Tomba, is powerful enough to give umbrage to the Chinese Emperor himself. But the chief of the humblest Lama-house may be an important personage, if he happen to be a Chaberon, that is to say, an incarnation of Buddha--one whose death is but a transformation. The Buddhists firmly believe in these transmigrations of their living Buddhas, and the ceremonies which attend the election--we ought to say the recognition--of these undying sovereigns, are curiously related by M. Huc.

When a Grand Lama takes his departure, that is to say when he
dies, the event is no subject for mourning to the community.
There is no giving way to tears or regrets, for every one is
convinced that the Chaberon will soon reappear. His apparent
death is only the beginning of a new existence--a link added to
an endless and uninterrupted chain of successive lives--a mere
palingenesia. So long as the saint remains in the chrysalis
state, his disciples are in the greatest anxiety, for their
great affair is to find out in what spot their master is to
resume his life. If a rainbow appears in the clouds, it is
considered as a token sent them by their former Grand Lama, to
aid them in their researches. Every one then falls to praying,
and while the community, thus bereaved of its Lama, redoubles
its feasts and orisons, a chosen band sets out to consult the
_Tchurtchun_, or soothsayer, versed in the knowledge of all
things hidden from ordinary men. He is informed that on such a
day of such a month, the rainbow of the Chaberon was seen in
the heavens; that it appeared in a certain direction; was more
or less luminous; was visible during a certain lapse of time,
and then disappeared under such and such circumstances. When
the _Tchurtchun_ has obtained all the necessary information, he
recites a few prayers, opens his book of divination, and
finally pronounces his oracle, while the Tartars, who have come
to consult him, listen to his words, kneeling, and rapt in
profound devotion. Your Grand Lama, he says, is come to life
again, in Thibet, at such a distance from your house; you will
find him in such a family. When the poor creatures have heard
the oracle, they return rejoicing, to announce the good tidings
at the Lama-house.

It frequently occurs that the disciples of the defunct Lama
have no need to take all this trouble to discover his new
birthplace. He often condescends so far as to reveal, in
person, the secret of his transformation. As soon as he has
performed his metamorphosis in Thibet, he declares himself at
his birthplace, at an age at which ordinary children cannot
articulate a word. "I," he says, with a tone of authority, "am
the Grand Lama, the living Buddha of such a temple; let me be
conducted to the Lama-house, of which I am the immortal
superior."...

The Tartars are always delighted at the discovery of their
Grand Lama, by whatever means it may be effected. Preparations
are joyfully made for the journey; the ministers and some
members of the royal family join the caravan, which is to bring
back the saint in triumph. High and low contribute to the
expense, and are eager to share the dangers of the journey.
These are not in general trifling; for the Lama is frequently
inconsiderate enough towards his followers to transmigrate in a
part of the country at once distant and difficult of access. If
one expedition fails, or falls into the hands of robbers,
another is sent, and there is no instance of these devotees
faltering in their faith. When at last the Chaberon is
discovered, it must not be supposed that he is accepted and
proclaimed at once, without proper precautions being taken to
ascertain his identity. A solemn sitting is held, at which the
living Buddha is examined in public, with the most scrupulous
attention. He is questioned as to the name of the Lama-house of
which he pretends to be the chief, its distance and situation,
and the number of its resident Lamas. He is moreover
interrogated concerning the habits of the defunct Grand Lama,
and the principal particulars of his death. After all these
questions, prayer-books, tea-pots, cups, utensils, and things
of all kinds, are placed before him, and he is expected to
designate those which belonged to him during his preceding
life.

In general, the child, who is rarely more than five or six
years old, comes out triumphant from all these trials; replies
correctly to all the questions that are put to him; and makes,
without hesitation, the inventory of his former furniture.
"This," he says, "is the prayer-book I was in the habit of
using; here is the painted cup in which I used to drink tea,"
and so on through the whole list.

The Tartars are, undoubtedly, often the dupes of those who are
interested in making a Grand Lama of the brat. We think,
however, that often the affair is conducted on both sides with
perfect simplicity and good faith. From all we gathered from
persons most worthy of belief, it appears certain that the
wonders related of the Chaberons cannot be attributed to
juggling or delusion. A purely human philosophy would,
doubtless, reject such facts, or unhesitatingly lay them to the
charge of Lamaist imposture. We--catholic missionaries--think
that the great liar who deceived our first parents in Paradise,
prosecutes on earth his system of falsehood. He who was potent
enough to sustain Simon Magus in the air, may well speak in the
present day by the mouth of a child, in order to confirm the
belief of his worshippers.

As our duties are those of the critic, and not those of the inquisitor, we will not stop to inquire how far the slightly Manichean doctrine implied in the concluding remark of M. Huc is received as orthodox by the Gallican Church; but, as a general observation, we may say, that there seems no reason why, with such a method of accounting for miracles, any should be disbelieved; nor do we understand how, under this system, any miracles can be adduced as a proof of the truth of any religion. Surely, since the days of the Scribes and Pharisees, no enemy of Christianity ever attacked it more radically than by attributing the power of miracles to Beelzebub, the prince of the devils! M. Huc reminds us of a preacher whom we once heard, in an enlightened capital, explaining the miracle of speech in Balaam's ass, by reminding his congregation that parrots--nay, even bull-finches, have been made to speak, and therefore why not an ass? It never occurred to him, that in the impossibility of the thing the miracle consisted. There is a little of the same kind of oversight in the explanations of our missionaries. They are, however, too earnest and single-hearted in their credulity to be laughed at; and, on other occasions, when their powers of belief were still further tested, they displayed a courageous resolution which disarms ridicule, and is not the less admirable because shown on an absurd occasion. Among the inferior class of Lamas there are many who pretend to possess preternatural gifts, which are exorcised publicly on solemn occasions, and greatly increase the fame of the saint who exhibits them, and the revenues of the community of which he is a member. M. Huc and his companion being in the neighborhood of a large Lama-house, heard that one of these festivals was to be held, at which a Lama was to perform the unpleasant but wonderful feat of disembowelling himself for the gratification of the public, and after remaining in that state for a certain time, during which he would answer any questions respecting futurity, he would replace things in _statu quo_ by means of a short prayer. According to their views of such matters, this could, of course, be easily effected by the agency of the Evil One, and they were confirmed in the idea by the wording of an invocation used on similar occasions, and which certainly appears to indicate some infernal bargain. Instead, therefore, of suspecting trickery, they only considered how they could best prove the superiority of prayer over incantations, and neutralize the power of the devil. They determined to be present at the ceremony, and, in the midst of the diabolical invocation, to stand forward, and in the name of the true God to arrest the charm. An unforeseen accident fortunately prevented their reaching the scene of action in time, or it is very possible that their journey might have terminated then and there in martyrdom, in spite of Buddhistic toleration. Faith and courage are, however, no subjects for sarcasm, wherever they may be exhibited, and it seems to us that there was a good deal of both in the above plan.

Our readers will see that these volumes are interesting, not only by the facts they contain, but also from the peculiar manner in which the writer judges them. Not the least amusing feature in the case is, that we find him continually noting as absurd Buddhistic abuses many customs which are common to his own Church. On the very outset of their journey, the missionaries took advantage of their stay at Tolon-Noor, a town famous for its foundries, to have a large crucifix cast. M. Huc mentions that the large statues of Buddha almost all come from thence, but these he calls idols, whereas the crucifix was an image. The pilgrimages, genuflexions, and vows of the Buddhist devotees surprise him, as though there were no steps at Rome worn bare by thousands of knees--no shrines in France visited by bare-footed pilgrims--no children dressed in white from their birth to please the Virgin Mary! In one description of a Lama seminary, he remarks that the canonical books of Buddhism being all written in the language of Thibet, the Lamas of Mongolia pass their lives in studying their religion in a foreign idiom, while they scarcely know their own language. Let us see what improvement the introduction of Catholicism would effect, in this state of things. We open a recent work[16] on French missions in Cochin-China and Corea; and in a description of the Catholic seminary of Pulo-Ticoux, near Pinang, we read: "Both teachers and pupils speak only Latin in their class--not the barbarous Latin of our schools, but a pure, harmonious tongue, such as I never heard spoken before. With the exception of a few elementary notions of geography, modern history, and arithmetic, the children receive an exclusively religious education." There is one invention, however, in which Buddhism has no rival, and which throws the Roman Catholic idea of praying by proxy quite into shade. We never heard of a prayer-mill before. A piece of pasteboard, of a cylindrical form, is covered with prayers of the most approved sort; once set in motion, this machine will turn for a long while, and so long as it does turn, the prayers inscribed on it are placed to the credit of the person who first set it going. Sometimes these mills are set up in a stream, and pray everlastingly for their founders.

We must now hurry on to Lha-Ssa, foregoing many tempting pictures of Chinese life which occur by the way, for our travellers were obliged to pass on Chinese territory before reaching their destination. A Chinese landlord is a curious character, as curious often as the sign of his own inn; and whether he lodged at the "Hotel of Justice and Mercy," or at that of the "Three Perfections," or the "Five Felicities," or put up at the "Temperate Climate" inn, M. Huc finds matter for amusing description. On these occasions the great fear of the missionaries was, that they should be taken for English, seeing that these latter were not in favor just then:

At Tchoang-Long we lodged at the hotel of the "Three Social
Relations," where we had the pleasantest landlord imaginable to
deal with. He was a true Chinese: and, to give us a proof of
his perspicacity, asked us point blank if we were not
English--adding, to make the question clearer, that he meant by
Ing-kie-li, the sea-devils (Yang-kouei-Dze,) who were making
war at Canton. "No, we are not English, and we are neither sea
nor land-devils, nor devils of any sort." A lounger who stood
by luckily counteracted the bad effect of the interpellation.
"Why," said he to the innkeeper, "don't you know how to look at
men's faces? How can you fancy that these men can be
Yang-kouei-Dze? Don't you know that their eyes are always blue,
and their hair quite red?" "True," said the innkeeper, "I had
not thought of that." "No, indeed," we added; "you cannot have
reflected. Do you think that sea-monsters could live on land,
and ride on horseback, as we do?" "True, true, the Ing-kie-li,
it is said, never dare to leave the sea: as soon as they come
ashore, they tremble, and die, like fish out of water." A great
deal more was said of the manners and customs of the
sea-monsters--the result of which was, that we could not
possibly be of the same race.

In the beginning of 1846, after incredible trials and fatigues, M. Huc and his companion reached Lha-Ssa, the capital of Thibet--the Rome of Buddhism. The perils of the road were at an end; but dangers of another sort were to be expected. It was not to be supposed that the ostensible object of their journey--the propagation of a new religion--could fail to give umbrage to a purely ecclesiastical government, such as that of the Tale-Lama. For persecutions they were, therefore, prepared; but certainly did not expect it from the quarter in which it was destined to originate. Strange to say, the opposition they met with, and which finally achieved their expulsion from Thibet, was political, and not religious--the result of Chinese susceptibility, rather than of any religious hostility. At the period of their arrival at Lha-Ssa, the Chinese resident at the Court of Pekin was no less a personage than the famous Ki-Chan (or Keshen, as he is often called by the English)--the same who played so conspicuous a part as Imperial Commissary during the negotiations with England, in 1839. On that occasion, Ki-Chan showed, in one respect at least, greater discrimination than most of his countrymen, for he perceived at once the impossibility of holding out against European forces, and made the best terms he could. The necessity for concessions was not, however, so well understood at the court of Pekin. The unfortunate Commissary was accused of having allowed himself to be corrupted by English gold, and to have sold a portion of the Celestial territory to the sea-devils. He was, in consequence, declared "worthy of death," deprived of his titles, goods, and honors, and sent into exile in Tartary: his houses were razed to the ground, and his wives put up to auction! But Fortune and the emperors of China are capricious; and events in Thibet having, towards the year 1844, assumed an aspect which appeared to offer a favorable opportunity of extending Chinese influence in that quarter, the "Holy Master" bethought him of the talents of his discarded servant, Ki-Chan, and sent him to Lha-Ssa, with extraordinary powers. The events we allude to are narrated by M. Huc with clearness, and, we have reason to believe, with great accuracy; but we cannot make room for any account of them, and must content ourselves with a rapid sketch of the ruling powers at Lha-Ssa in 1846, so as to render the situation of our travellers intelligible.

The government of Thibet is a complete theocracy, and the authority of the Tale-Lama is unbounded, as that of a divinity deigning to reign on earth must naturally be over his worshippers. But as he often transmigrates into the body of a mere child, and that, moreover, his very divinity makes it derogatory in him to meddle with worldly affairs, he is supplied with a grosser colleague, who, under the name of Nomekhan, or spiritual emperor, transacts all the business of the state. He is nominated for life by the Tale-Lama, and in his turn chooses four kalons, or ministers, whose power, like that of ministers elsewhere, is of uncertain duration. At the time we speak of, thanks to Chinese intrigue, both the Tale-Lama and the Nomekhan were minors; and the regency was intrusted to the first kalon, or minister, whose one-absorbing object was to endeavor to resist the daily interference and encroachments of Ki-Chan, and to emancipate Thibet from the oppressive friendship of the court of Pekin. No pope, protected by an army of occupation, was ever more hampered. But the Celestial Emperor had declared himself the "protector" of the Tale-Lama; and as such was he not bound to interfere on every occasion where his dignity or interests were concerned? The arrival of two Europeans at Lha-Ssa, was a circumstance well calculated to excite the suspicions of Ki-Chan, who, in the true spirit of Chinese policy, considered the total exclusion of Europeans as the only safeguard against foreign invasion. In consequence, the missionaries had to undergo more than one minute interrogatory, and a most searching domiciliary visit. The object of this latter seems especially to have been, to ascertain whether they possessed any maps. Although convicted of having in their possession several of these prohibited articles, they managed, by their guarded replies, and a little adroit flattery, to lull the suspicions of the Chinese envoy, and even to obtain the favor of the Regent. This latter, indeed, repeatedly assured them, with that self-deceit by which the oppressed often seek to delude themselves into a belief of their own independence, that they had nothing to fear as long as _he_ supported them, for that it was he "who governed the country." For a little while things went on smoothly enough: the missionaries followed their religion openly, and even worked hard at making converts--not very successfully, it seems to us; but still, so long as they were allowed to sow, they might hope one day to reap. The Regent himself would frequently discourse with them on religious topics:

The Regent was fond of talking on religious matters, and they
formed the principal subject of our conversations with him. In
the beginning of our intercourse, he said to us the following
remarkable words: "All your long journeys have been undertaken
solely with a religious object.... You are right, for religion
is the great business of life. I see that the French and the
people of Thibet think alike in that respect. We are not like
the Chinese, who take no account of the care of their souls.
Nevertheless, your religion is not the same as ours.... It is
of importance to know which is the true one. Let us examine
both sincerely and attentively; if yours is the best, we will
adopt it; how could we refuse to do so? If, on the other hand,
ours is the best, I suppose that you will be rational enough to
follow it."

Of course, the tolerant Regent thought that he was not promising much; and, as usual on such occasions, each party made sure of converting the other. Still, one sees so many people who defend what they are convinced is the truth with as little temper and good faith as though they were maintaining what they know to be a falsehood, that we must allow that he had some merit. The controversy then began; the Regent, with great courtesy, allowing the Christians, as his guests, to expound their doctrine first. But our controversialists soon found out what so many other disputants would do well to remember--viz., that in order to give or receive a clear definition, it is essential that both antagonists should be agreed as to the value of its terms. The argument was carried on in Chinese, and neither M. Huc nor M. Gabet were sufficiently conversant with the language to be able to convey metaphysical ideas by its means. The truth-seeking Regent, therefore, proposed that the theological conversations should be suspended until his adversaries should have learned the language of Thibet; and he himself furnished them with a master.

Ki-Chan, on his part, was equally curious, but on other matters:

During the short period of our prosperity at Lha-Ssa, we had
some familiar intercourse with the Chinese ambassador, Ki-Chan.
He sent for us two or three times, to talk politics, or to use
the Chinese expression, to speak "idle words." He talked much
of the English, and of Queen Victoria. "It seems," said he,
"that she is a woman of great understanding; but her husband,
in my opinion, plays a very foolish part. She does not let him
meddle with any thing. She has had magnificent gardens laid out
for him, with fruit-trees and all kinds of flowers; and there
he is always shut up, and spends his life in walking about....
They say there are other countries in Europe where women
govern--is it true? Are their husbands also shut up in gardens?
Is that, too, the custom in France?" "No; in France the women
are in the gardens, and the men direct public affairs." "That's
right--any other plan produces disorder."...

Ki-Chan then inquired after Palmerston, and asked if he was
still intrusted with foreign affairs?... "And Ilu,[17] what has
become of him--do you know?" "He has been recalled; your fall
caused his." "I am sorry for it. He had an excellent heart, but
he knew not how to take a resolution. Has he been put to death,
or exiled?" "Neither; in Europe we do not make such short work
of these things as at Pekin." "True, true; your Mandarins are
much better off than we are. Your government is much better
than ours: our Emperor cannot know every thing, and yet he
judges every thing, and no one may find fault with his acts.
Our Emperor says to us, This is white.... We fall down and
answer, Yes, this is white. He then shows us the same object,
and says, This is black.... We fall down and answer, Yes, this
is black." "But, after all, suppose you were to say that the
same thing could not be black and white?" "The Emperor would,
perhaps, say to any one courageous enough to do it, Thou art
right; but at the same time he would have him strangled or
beheaded."... He then added, that for his own part he was
convinced that the Chinese could never cope with Europeans,
unless they altered their arms, and changed their old habits;
but that he would take good care never to say so, seeing that
the counsel, besides being useless, would probably cost him his
life.

At other times, the whole court would assist at some exhibition of European wonders:

One day when we were speaking of observatories and astronomical
instruments, the Regent asked us if we would allow him to
examine the curious, strange-looking machine that we kept in a
box. He meant the microscope.... One of us ran home, and
returned with the wonderful instrument. While we were putting
it together, we attempted to give, as well as we could, some
notion of optics to our auditory; but as we perceived that the
theory excited but little interest, we proceeded at once to
experiments. We asked if any person in the company would favor
us with a louse. The thing was far easier to obtain than a
butterfly. A noble Lama, who was secretary to his Excellency
the first Kalon, had only to slip his hand beneath his silk
robe to produce a fully developed specimen. We seized it
immediately with our tweezers; seeing which, the Lama objected
to the experiment, alleging that we were going to cause the
death of a living being. "Never fear," we said, "we have only
got hold of him by his skin; and besides, he seems sufficiently
sturdy to get over the trial." The Regent, whose creed, as we
before said, was more spiritualized than that of the vulgar,
told the Lama to hold his tongue, and let us alone. We
therefore proceeded with the experiment, and fixed into the
object-glass the little animal, who was struggling in our
tweezers. We then requested the Regent to apply his eye to the
glass at the top of the machine. "Tsong-Kaba!" said he; "the
louse is as big as a rat."... Having viewed it for an instant,
he hid his face in his hands, saying, that it was a horrible
sight. He tried to prevent the others from looking, but his
expostulations were unavailing. Every body in turn bent over
the microscope, and started back with cries of horror. The
Secretary-Lama perceiving that his little animal scarcely
moved, put in a word in its behalf. We raised the tweezers and
restored the louse to its owner. Alas! the unfortunate victim
was lifeless. The Regent said, laughingly to his secretary, "I
fear your louse is unwell; go and see if you can physic him, or
he'll never recover."

All this pleasantness and good fellowship was not to last long, and little more than a month elapsed before the blow came. The suspicions of Ki-Chan had been lulled--not dispelled. It was contrary to the invariable policy of the Chinese to brook the presence of strangers, and especially of preachers of Christianity, at Lha-Ssa; and the very favor shown them by the native government was an additional motive for desiring their expulsion. One day, the two Frenchmen were summoned to the presence of Ki-Chan, who, with the usual forms of Chinese politeness, informed them that Thibet was too poor and miserable a country to suit them, and that they had best think of returning to France. In vain did they, after thanking him for his friendly interest, assure him with firmness, that, notwithstanding his advice, they intended to remain; in vain did the poor Regent promise his support, and affirm that he it was "who governed the country;" there was no combating the all-powerful influence of the Chinese ambassador. At last, finding all opposition fruitless, they determined to quit Lha-Ssa, but not before the good-natured Regent had fought hard in the cause of tolerance. We cannot refrain from quoting some of the arguments of this poor, benighted Buddhist, and commending them to the attention of some of the Lamas of the Western world:

The Regent could not be made to share the apprehensions which
Ki-Chan sought to instil into his mind. He maintained that our
presence at Lha-Ssa could in no manner endanger the safety of
the state. "If," said he, "the doctrine that these men teach be
false, the people of Thibet will not embrace it; if, on the
contrary, it be true, what have we to fear? How can truth be
hurtful to mankind? These two Lamas from the kingdom of
France," he added, "have done no harm; their intentions towards
us are most friendly. Can we, without reason, deprive them of
that liberty and protection which we grant here to all men, and
especially to men of prayer? Are we justified in rendering
ourselves guilty of present and positive injustice, from the
imaginary dread of evils to come?"

The two missionaries had made up their minds to leave Thibet; but they had fancied that the manner of doing so would be left to their option, and that they would be allowed to take the route towards British India. Great, therefore, was their surprise when they discovered that they were to be conducted, under escort, to the frontiers of China--a journey of nearly eight months' duration. Expostulation was useless; and with a heavy heart they were obliged to leave Lha-Ssa, in company of fifteen Chinese soldiers, under the command of the Mandarin Ly-Kouo-Ngan--alias, Ly, the Pacifier of kingdoms! His Excellency Ly was an admirable specimen of a Chinese skeptic, scoffing alike at Bonzes and Lamas; but having, like many other _esprits forts_, a pet superstition for his private use, and professing an ardent devotion to--the Great Bear! For the details of this homeward journey, we must, however, refer our readers to the book itself; we will merely say, that its dangers and fatigues were so great that the travellers must, more than once, have suspected the treacherous Ki-Chan of having plotted their destruction.

M. Huc, in the first moment of indignation, seems to have hoped that his government would have remonstrated, but we have not heard that such has been the case, and Thibet is likely to remain, for some time to come, forbidden ground to European settlers. We have already given our opinion respecting the probability of missionaries of any Christian sect succeeding in the main object of the undertaking in which our heroes (they deserve the name) failed; and M. Huc himself seems to insinuate, towards the close of his work, that those who in future may seek to Christianize Thibet, would do well to try the potency of physical benefits. We have always thought, and experience has proved beyond dispute, that a certain degree of material civilization should precede, or at least accompany, the introduction of Christianity. The starving Singhalese of low caste, keenly alive to the comforts of rice and social equality, proclaims himself of the religion of the East India Company; the knowledge-loving Buddhist of Thibet may one day adopt the religion of railways, microscopes, and electric telegraphs; and it is just possible, as M. Huc observes, that the missionary who should introduce vaccination at Lha-Ssa, would at one stroke extirpate small-pox and Buddhism.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] _Souvenirs d'un Voyage dans la Tartarie, le Thibet, et la Chine pendant les annees 1844, 1845, et 1846._ Par M. Huc, pretre missionnaire de la Congregation de St. Lazare. Paris.

[13] The Tartars call laymen _hara-houmon_ (black men), most probably on account of the color of their hair, in contradistinction to the white shaved crowns of their Lamas.

[14] Si-koua means pumpkin of the West, and is the name given to the watermelon. The Chinese called the European bombs Si-koua-pao.

[15] H'Lassa (land of spirits), called by the Moguls _Monhe-Dhot_ (eternal sanctuary). Although averse to any unnecessary change in the received orthography of proper names, we have adopted M. Huc's mode of spelling, in the case of the capital of Thibet, as there appear to be etymological reasons for it.

[16] _Scenes de la Vie Apostolique_, par le Dr. Yvan, published in _La Politique Nouvelle_.

[17] Ilu, the Chinese way of pronouncing the name of Elliott.

From Chamber's Edinburgh Journal.

STORY OF GASPAR MENDEZ.

BY CATHERINE CROWE.

The extraordinary motives under which people occasionally act, and the strange things they do under the influence of these motives, frequently so far transcend the bounds of probability, that we romance-writers, with the wholesome fear of the critics before our eyes, would not dare to venture on them. Only the other day we read in the newspapers that a Frenchman who had been guilty of embezzlement, and was afraid of being found out, went into a theatre in Lyons, and stabbed a young woman whom he had never seen before in his life, in order that he might die by the hands of the executioner, and so escape the inconvenience of rushing into the other world without having time to make his peace with Heaven. He desired death as a refuge from the anguish of mind he was suffering; but instead of killing himself be killed somebody else, because the law would allow him leisure for repentance before it inflicted the penalty of his crime.

It will be said the man was mad--I suppose he was; and so is every body whilst under the influence of an absorbing passion, whether the mania be love, jealousy, fanaticism, or revenge. The following tale will illustrate one phase of such a madness.

In the year 1789, there resided in Italy, not far from Aquila in the Abruzzo, a man called Gaspar Mendez. He appears to have been a Spaniard, if not actually by birth, at least by descent, and to have possessed a small estate, which he rendered valuable by pasturing cattle. Not far from where he resided there lived with her parents a remarkably handsome girl, of the name of Bianca Venoni, and on this fair damsel Mendez fixed his affections. As he was by many degrees the best match about the neighborhood, he never doubted that his addresses would be received with a warm welcome, and intoxicated with this security, he seems to have made his advances so abruptly, that the girl felt herself entitled to give him an equally abrupt refusal. To aggravate his mortification, he discovered that a young man, called Giuseppe Ripa, had been a secret witness to the rejection, which took place in an orchard; and as he walked away with rage in his heart, he heard echoing behind him the merry laugh of the two thoughtless young people. Proud and revengeful by nature, this affront seems to have rankled dreadfully in the mind of Gaspar; although, in accordance with that pride, he endeavored to conceal his feelings under a show of indifference. Those who knew the parties well, however, were not deceived; and when, after an interval, it was discovered that Giuseppe himself was the favored lover of Bianca, the enmity, though not more open, became more intense than ever.

In the mean time, Old Venoni, Bianca's father, had become aware of the fine match his daughter had missed, and was extremely angry about it; more particularly as he was poor, and would have been very much pleased to have a rich son-in-law. Nor was he disposed to relinquish the chance so easily. After first trying his influence on Bianca, upon whom he expended a great deal of persuasion and cajolery in vain, he went so far as to call upon Gaspar, apologizing for his daughter's ignorance and folly in refusing so desirable a proposal, and expressing a hope that Mendez would not relinquish the pursuit, but try his fortune again; when he hoped to have brought her to a better state of mind.

Gaspar received the old man with civility, but answered coldly, that any further advances on his own part were out of the question, unless he had reason to believe the young lady was inclined to retract her refusal; in which case he should be happy to wait upon her. With this response Venoni returned to make another attack upon his daughter, whom, however, fortified by her strong attachment to Ripa, he found quite immovable; and there for several months the affair seems to have rested, till the old man, urged by the embarrassment of his circumstances, renewed the persecution, coupling it with certain calumnies against Giuseppe, founded on the accidental loss of a sum of money which had been intrusted to him by a friend, who wanted it conveyed to a neighboring village, whither the young man had occasion to go. This loss, which seems to have arisen out of some youthful imprudence, appears to have occasioned Ripa a great deal of distress; and he not only did his utmost to repair it by giving up every thing he had, which was indeed very little, but he also engaged to pay regularly a portion of his weekly earnings, till the whole sum was replaced.

His behavior, in short, was so satisfactory, that the person to whom the money had belonged does not seem to have borne him any ill-will on the subject; but Venoni took advantage of the circumstance to fling aspersions on the young man's character, whilst it strengthened his argument against the connection with his daughter; for how was Giuseppe to maintain a wife and family with this millstone of debt round his neck? Bianca, however, continued faithful to her lover, and for some time nothing happened to advance the suit of either party. In that interval a sister of Gasper's had married a man called Alessandro Malfi, who, being a friend of Giuseppe's, endeavored to bring about a reconciliation betwixt the rivals, or, rather, to produce a more cordial feeling, for there had never been a quarrel; and as far as Ripa was concerned, as he had no cause for jealousy, there was no reason why he should bear ill-will to the unsuccessful candidate. With Gaspar it was different: he hated Ripa; but as it hurt his pride that this enmity to one whom he considered so far beneath him should be known, he made no open demonstration of dislike, and when Malfi expressed a wish to invite his friend to supper, hoping that Mendez would not refuse to meet him, the Spaniard made no objection whatever. "Why not?" he said: "he knew of no reason why he should not meet Giuseppe Ripa, or any other person his brother-in-law chose to invite."

Accordingly the party was made; and on the night appointed Giuseppe, after a private interview in the orchard with his mistress, started for Malfi's house, which was situated about three miles off, in the same direction as Gaspar's, which, indeed, he had to pass; on which account he deterred his departure to a later hour than he otherwise would have done, wishing not to come in contact with his rival till they met under Malfi's roof. Mendez had a servant called Antonio Guerra, who worked on his farm, and who appears to have been much in his confidence, and just as Ripa passed the Spaniard's door, he met Guerra coming in an opposite direction, and asked him if Mendez had gone to the supper yet; to which Guerra answered that he supposed he had, but he did not know. Guerra then took a key out of his pocket, and unlocking the door, entered the house, whilst Ripa walked on.

In the mean while the little party had assembled in Malfi's parlor, all but the two principal personages, Gaspar and Giuseppe; and as time advanced without their appearing, some jests were passed amongst the men present, who wished they might not have fallen foul of each other on the way. At length, however, Ripa arrived, and the first question that was put to him was: "What had he done with his rival?" which he answered by inquiring if the Spaniard was not come. But although he endeavored to appear unconcerned, there was a tremor in his voice and a confusion of manner that excited general observation. He made violent efforts, however, to appear at his ease, but these efforts were too manifest to be successful; whilst the continued absence of Mendez became so unaccountable, that a cloud seems to have settled on the spirits of the company, which made the expected festivity pass very heavily off.

"Where could Mendez be? What could have detained him? It was to be hoped no harm had happened to him!" Such was the burden of the conversation till--when at about an hour before midnight the party broke up--Alessandro Malfi said, that to allay the anxiety of his wife, who was getting extremely alarmed about her brother, he would walk as far as Forni--which was the name of Gaspar's farm--to inquire what had become of him.

As Ripa's way lay in the same direction, they naturally started together; and after what appears to have been a very silent walk--for the spirits of Giuseppe were so depressed that the other found it impossible to draw him into conversation--they reached Forni, when, having rung the bell, they were presently answered by Antonio Guerra, who put his head out of an upper window to inquire who they were, and what they wanted.

"It is I, Alessandro Malfi. I want to know where your master is, and why he has not been to my house this evening as he promised?"

"I thought he was there," said Antonio; "he set off from here to go soon after seven o'clock."

"That is most extraordinary!" returned Malfi; "what in the world can have become of him?"

"It is very strange, certainly," answered the servant; "he has never come home; and when you rang I thought it was he returned from the party."

As there was no more to be learned, the two friends now parted; Malfi expressing considerable surprise and some uneasiness at the non-appearance of his brother-in-law: whilst of Giuseppe we hear nothing more till the following afternoon, when, whilst at work in his vineyard, he was accosted by two officers of justice from Aquila, and he found himself arrested, under an accusation of having waylaid Mendez in a mountain-pass on the preceding evening, and wounded him, with the design of taking his life.

The first words Ripa uttered on hearing this impeachment--words that, like all the rest of his behavior, told dreadfully against him--were: "Isn't he dead, then?"

"No thanks to you that he's not," replied the officer; "but he's alive, and likely to recover to give evidence against his assassin."

"_Dio!_" cried Giuseppe, "I wish I'd known he wasn't dead!"

"You confess, then, that you wounded him with the intent to kill?"

"No," answered Ripa; "I confess no such thing. As I was going through the pass last night I observed a man's hat lying a little off the road, and on lifting it, I saw it belonged to Senor Mendez. Whilst I was wondering how it came there without the owner, and was looking about for him, I spied him lying behind a boulder. At first I thought he was asleep, but on looking again, I saw he didn't lie like a sleeping man, and I concluded he was dead. Had it been any one but he, I should have lifted him up; but it being very well known that we were no friends, I own I was afraid to do so. I thought it better not to meddle with him at all. However, if he is alive, as you say, perhaps he can tell himself who wounded him."

"To be sure he can," returned the officer; "he says it's you!"

"_Perduto son' io!_--Then I am lost!" exclaimed Ripa; who, on being brought before the authorities, persisted in the same story; adding, that so far from seeking Mendez, he had particularly wished to avoid him, and that that was the reason he had started so late; for he had been warned that the Spaniard was his enemy, and he apprehended that if they met alone some collision might ensue.

It appeared, however, that he had consumed much more time on the road than could be fairly accounted for; for two or three people had met him on the way before he reached Forni; and then Antonio Guerra could speak as to the exact hour of his passing. This discrepancy he attempted to explain by saying, that after seeing Mendez on the ground, dead--as he believed--he had been so agitated and alarmed that he did not like to present himself at Malfi's house, lest he should excite observation. He had also spent some time in deliberating whether or not he should mention what he had seen; and he had made up his mind to do so on his arrival, but was deterred by every body's asking him, when he entered the room, what he had done with Mendez--a question that seemed to imply a suspicion against himself.

This tale, of course, was not believed: indeed his whole demeanor on the night in question tended strongly to his condemnation; added to which, Malfi, who had been his friend, testified that not only had Ripa betrayed all the confusion of guilt during the walk from his house to Forni, but that having hold of his arm, he had distinctly felt him tremble as they passed the spot where Mendez was subsequently discovered.

With regard to Mendez himself, it appeared that when found he was in a state of insensibility, and he was still too weak to give evidence or enter into any particulars; but when, under proper remedies, he had recovered his senses, Faustina Malfi, his sister--to whose house he had been carried--asked him if Giuseppe Ripa was not the assassin; and he answered in the affirmative.

Giuseppe was thrown into prison to await his trial; and having public opinion, as well as that of the authorities against him, he was universally considered a dead man. The only person that adhered to him was Bianca, who visited him in the jail, and refused to believe him guilty. But if he was innocent, who was the criminal? It appeared afterwards that Ripa himself had his own suspicions on that subject, but as they were founded only on two slight indications, he felt it was useless to advance them.