Sebuah Perjalanan ke Lhasa dan Tibet Tengah/Bab 5

CHAPTER V.

FROM TASHILHUNPO TO YAMDO SAMDING, AND THENCE TO LHASA.

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

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

Tsering-tashi, who had been designated to accompany me, had procured all that was necessary for a long journey—butter, meat, pounded dry mutton, spices, rice, a copper kettle, an iron pan, flint stones, tinder, and a bellows, and the Tung-chen had presented me with tsamba, chura, and pea-flour for the use of the servants, and peas for the ponies. Of all the articles Tsering-tashi had brought, the one which he valued the most was a bamboo tea-churn,[1] which he thought the most beautiful and useful of all our belongings.

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

April 27.—About two inches of snow had fallen in the night, and there was a slight fog when we got up in the morning. In front of the house I noticed some men and women digged a kind of root called rampa. This underground grass acquires, in some places, a length of five or six feet, and in the early spring, when vegetables and forage are scarce, it is dug up. The people know where to dig for it by the little shoots which rise above the ground.[2]

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

In the evening tea was served by Po-ka-chan, a grey-haired monk who works on the estates of the minister at Tanag. He had travelled much in Kongpo, Naga, and among the Mishmis, and in Tsari. He related how the savage Lhokabra[3] harassed the Tibetan pilgrims, and how the Tsang-po river entered the country of defiles in Eastern Bhutan, rushing in a tremendous waterfall over the top of a gigantic precipice called the "Lion's Face," or Sing-dong.

April 28.—The villagers had all assembled to bid us farewell, and the Tung-chen's sister presented me with a "scarf for good luck" (tashi khatag). We saw as we rode along numerous flocks of cranes (tontong), and brown ducks with red necks were swimming in the river and the irrigation ditches. We stopped for the night at Pishi Mani lhakhang, where Angputti received us with the same kindness she had shown us on my former visits. Snow fell during the night, but our hostess's servants watched over our ponies, and stabled them under the roof of the okhang,[4] or godown, on the ground floor.

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

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

May 2.—The monks of Dongtse, headed by a learned old lama named Punlo, arrived at the castle to commence reading the Kahgyur. Arrangements were made in the nyihok for the worship of Dorje jig-je. Torma offerings[5] were placed on the terrace on the top of the castle, and rugs were spread on the floor of the little glazed room (nyihok) on it for the accommodation of the lamas. In the house was a raised seat for the minister, and in a corner of the room a little chapel, with all the necessary church furniture, among which the tsegi bumba, or "bowl of life," of Tse-pamed was conspicuous.[6] This propitiatory ceremony occupied three days.

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

On May 9 the Lhacham left for Lhasa, after confiding to the minister's care Ane, her third son, a boy of ten, who was destined for the Church. The Lhacham and her two other sons, Lhasre[7] and Kundi, made their devotions at the different chapels of the castle, which it took them nearly an hour to accomplish, and then returned to the fifth story of the building to receive the minister's blessing, after which they took their leave.

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

On the following day I went with the minister and the Kusho Ane, and took up my residence in the Dongtse Choide. Here I witnessed the opening ceremonies connected with the Kalachakra mandala worship. The Om-dse,[8] or high priest of the Choide, with the help of two assistants, had described with coloured tsamba a circle about 20 feet in diameter on the floor of the northern room on the third floor of the Tsug-la khang. Within this mandala were drawn the entrance, spires, doors, and domes of the Kalachakra mansion. The presiding deity was tall, many-armed, and had several heads; his attendants were of the tantrik order of deities, and all these paintings were made in coloured powders and tsamba.[9] The minister highly praised the work, and gave as a gratuity to each of the eighty monks of the monastery half a tanka, and an entertainment of tea and tsamba.

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

My ponies were brought inside the monastery by Pador, a stalwart young fellow who had been several times to Lhasa, and who had been chosen by the Chyag-dso-pa[10] to accompany me, and I got ready to leave early on the morrow.

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

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

After a hurried breakfast, while the servants were engaged in saddling the ponies and packing, I went and kotowed to the Buddha in the temple, placed khatag on the sacred images, and distributed alms to the monks assembled in the courtyard to offer prayers for my safe journey. Then I returned to my room, picked out the handsomest khatag I possessed, and presented it to the minister. His holiness graciously touched my head with his palms, and in solemn tones said, "Sarat Chandra, Lhasa is not a good place. The people there are not like those you meet here. The Lhasa people are suspicious and insincere. You do not know, and, in fact, you cannot read their character. I advise you not to stay long in one place there. The Lhacham Kusho is a powerful personage in Lhasa; she will protect you, but you should so behave as rarely to require her protection. Stay not long in the vicinity of the Dabung or Sera monasteries. If you intend to make a long stay at Lhasa, choose your residence in a garden or village in the suburbs. You have chosen a very bad time for your pilgrimage, as small-pox is raging all over Central Tibet; but you will return safely, though the journey will be trying and fraught with immense difficulties."[11] Then, turning to Tsering-tashi, around whose neck the minister's page put a khatag, he said to him, "Tsing-ta, I believe you know whom you are accompanying. You should serve him as you would serve me; your relations with him must be those of a son with his parents."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shortly after starting it began snowing heavily. As we rode on along the bank of the Nyang chu, Tsering-tashi pointed out to me the road to Phagri, the monastery of Na-ning, the ruins of Gyang-to, both formerly places of importance. Then we entered the rong, or defiles,[12] where used to live three tribes of herdsmen, the Gyangro, Ning-ro, and Gang-ro, who carried on a thriving trade in yak-tails (chowries), felt hats, felt, and blankets.

Crossing the river at Kudung zampa, we reached by dusk the village of Gobshi,[13] where the Lhacham had only preceded us a little. I found her very gloomy, for she had just learnt that there were in the house where she was now stopping five small-pox patients. I was asked to vaccinate her and her whole party; but, unfortunately, the lymph which I had asked for in India had not reached me before leaving Tashilhunpo; it was still at the Lachan barrier with Ugyen-gyatso.

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

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

Pushing on through a number of small villages, the road in some places extremely difficult and even dangerous, we forded the Nyang chu at Shetoi,[14] took a short cut to the Ralung zamba, and by 3 p.m. reached the village of Ralung chong-doi, crossing once more the river by a wooden bridge before entering it.

Ralung[15] is one of the most sacred places in Tibet, for it is here that the great Dugpa school of red-hat monks originated, a school still influential with numerous adherents in Southern, Northern, and Eastern Tibet, and in Bhutan, which latter country is, in fact, called Dugpa owing to the preponderance of this sect. The Ralung-til, the head monastery of the Dugpa, is to the south-east of this village. This monastery owes its name to the fact that it is surrounded by mountains as the heart (mt'il) of a lotus is by the corolla.

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

After following up the river for a while, we ascended the Karo la,[16] a lofty plateau from which we could distinguish to the north-east the snow-covered slopes of the Noijin kang-zang (or Noijin norpa zang-po and Kang zang-po). The plateau of the Karo la is called Oma tang, or "milky plain,"[17] as is also the little hamlet near the summit of the pass. On this plateau, which is about five miles broad where we traversed it, there is fine grazing, and we saw numerous herds of yaks by the sides of the little streamlets which meander over its surface, the one flowing westward becoming the Nyang chu; the other flows to the east, and is called the Kharnang-phu chu, and along this the road led. On the summit of the pass I noticed a species of thorny shrub, the like of which I had not seen in any other part of Tibet; the thorns were quite long, and the stem and leaves of the plant of an ash grey colour.

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

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

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

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

The brother and nephew of the host were laid up with small-pox (lhan-dum), and in a corner of the house some lamas were reading the holy books to bring about their speedy recovery.[18] In the courtyard lay another man lately arrived from Lhasa, and suffering from the same disease, and near him were two lamas chanting mantras to the discordant accompaniment of a bell and a damaru (hand drum).

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

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

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

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

My companions wrapped me in woollens and blankets, and with a turban round my head they set me on my horse. About two miles from town we came to the river (the same we had followed since crossing the Kharo la), and found it teeming with a small variety of fish. After crossing several rivulets we came to the foot of the hill, on the top of which stands Samding lamasery.[19] A flight of stone steps led up to the monastery, and I looked at the long steep ascent with dismay, for I did not see how I would ever be able to climb it in my present condition. Taking a rest at every turn in the steps, I managed finally to reach the top, some 300 feet above the plain. We had not, however, arrived at the convent; a narrow pathway led up to the gateway, near which were chained two fierce watch-dogs (do khyi), who barked furiously and strained at their chains as we passed. The Yamdo dogs, I had heard, were famous throughout Tibet for their size and fierceness, and these certainly justified the reputation given them.

I sat down on a stone near the gateway to wait until Tsering-tashi had looked up the physicians. After an hour he returned and informed me that one of the Amchi (physicians) was in the lamasery, and he led me to his house, at the top of which I waited his coming. After a little while the doctor made his appearance. He was a man of about seventy years of age, but still sturdy, of middle stature, with an agreeable face, broad forehead, and dignified appearance. He asked me a few questions, examined my eyes and tongue, and then led the way into his house. We ascended two ladders, and thus reached the portico of his apartment. The old man sat for a while turning his prayer-wheel, and taking frequent pinches of snuff while he scrutinized me closely.[20] Then he gave me a powder to be taken in a little warm water, and ordered his cook to give me some weak tea (cha t'ang), after which, bearing the Lhacham’s letter in his hand, he went with Tsering-tashi to present it to the Khyabgong Dorje Phagmo.[21]

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

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

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

The Dorje Phagmo gave Tsing-ta a sacred pill (rinsel) containing a particle of Kashyapa Buddha’s relics, and the latter hastened to bring it to me, and insisted on my swallowing it forthwith.[22]

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

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

The next day there was a new moon, and the monks assembled early in the congregation hall to perform religious services, as on the morrow began the fourth month (saga dao),[23] the holiest of the year.

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

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

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

These rites were the following: 1. Reading the Pradjna paramita in 8000 shlokas, together with its supplements—twelve monks could do this in two days. 2. Making the three portion (cha gsum) offerings, these consisting in painted wafers of tsamba and butter. One-third is offered to the ten guardians, Gya-ljin (Indra), the god of fire, the ruler of Hades, the god of wind, etc.; another portion is offered to the spirits, and the third to the demi-gods. 3. Gyal-gsol, or propitiating certain genii to the end that the patient’s mind may be at rest and he enjoy peaceful dreams. 4. Libations to the gods or Gser-skyems. This is held to be one of the most efficacious ways of propitiating the gods. 5. "To deceive death" (hchi-slu), by offering an image of the sick person, together with some of his clothes, and food to the Lord of death, and beseeching him to accept it instead of the person it represents. This means is resorted to after all others have failed. 6. "To deceive life" (srog-slu), by saving from death animals about to be killed. This is also known as "life-saving charity." The saving of the lives of men, beasts, and particularly fishes, is calculated to insure life.[24] When Tsing-ta proposed this to me, I at once agreed to save five hundred fish. The old doctor said he would go to the fishermen’s village, some three miles away, buy the fish, and set them free for me, if I would but lend him a pony. He came back in the evening, and reported that he had successfully accomplished this most important mission, by which much merit would come to me.

In spite of all these rites and observances, for some days my illness showed no signs of improvement, and so at last, on May 22, Tsing-ta went once more to the Dorje Phagmo, and, making her a present of five tanka and a khatag, asked her to find out by her divine knowledge if the old Amchi was the right man to attend to me. She threw dice (sho-mon),[25] and then said that the two physicians could be depended on.

Accordingly, I sent for the physicians, gave them each a present, and begged them to prepare some new and energetic remedy for me. In the evening Jerung brought me some pills, which smelt strongly of musk, and some powders, probably those known as gurkum chusum.[26] After having taken some of each I felt somewhat better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the largest room on the same floor are the mausolea of the former incarnations of Dorje Phagmo. The first is made of silver gilt, and was built in honour of Je-tsun Tinlas-tsomo,[27] the founder of the monastery. The whole surface of the monument is studded over with large turquoises, coral beads, rubies, emeralds, and pearls. In shape it resembles a chorten, six to seven feet square at the base. Inside of it, on a slab of stone, is an impress of the foot of the illustrious deceased. The second monument is also of silver, and in shape like the preceding, but I could not ascertain the name of the incarnation in whose honour it had been erected. The third, also of silver, is that of Nag-wang kun-bzang, the predecessor last but one of the present incarnation, and has around it, placed there as great curios, some pieces of European chinaware and some toys. The upper part of the monument is most tastefully decorated with gold and precious stones. This work, I believe, has been done by Nepalese, though some persons said it is of native workmanship.

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

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

The service lasted about two hours. Every now and then the Dorje Phagmo used an aspergill, with an end of peacock feathers and kusha grass,[28] to sprinkle saffron water taken from a "bowl of life," most of it, much to my annoyance, for I feared catching cold, falling on me, but it was a much envied token of her special favour. I could not catch the words of the charms (mantras) she uttered, as she spoke very rapidly, so as to get through the services as quickly as she could.

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

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

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

The present incarnation of the divine Dorje Phagmo is a lady of twenty-six, Nag-wang rinchen kunzang wangmo by name. She wears her hair long; her face is agreeable, her manners dignified, and somewhat resembling those of the Lhacham, though she is much less prepossessing than she. It is required of her that she never take her rest lying down; in the daytime she may recline on cushions or in a chair, but during the night she sits in the position prescribed for meditation.[29]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Travelling along the lake-side by the villages of Hailo,[30] Dab-lung, and Dephu, where the fishermen’s hide boats (kudru) were drying against the houses, and near which are a few fields where a little barley is raised, we came to the Kal-zang zamba, where we rested a while and drank some tea. Though this place is called "bridge" (zamba), it is in reality an embankment about 300 to 400 feet long dividing a narrow arm of the lake into two parts.

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

On reaching Palti djong,[31] we put up at a house where the Lhacham had stopped when on her way to Lhasa, and were most hospitably received. We bought some milk, a few eggs, and some chang from the hostess, who supplied us also with water, firewood, and two earthen cooking-pots. I was offered some fish, but I forbore buying any, as it would have been incompatible with my character of a pious pilgrim, such indulgence being forbidden by the Dalai lama. The Grand Lama, I must mention, having lately taken the vows of monkhood, had issued an edict prohibiting his subjects killing or eating fish for the space of one year.

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

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

May 28.—We left by daylight, and followed along the shore of the lake till we reached the foot of the Khamba la. The ascent was comparatively easy; on the rocks by the wayside were painted in many places images of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. From Tamalung,[32] a small village halfway up the mountain, a trail led eastward along the cliffs overhanging the lake, and the sinuosities of the shore could be followed with the eye to the remote horizon.

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

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

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

Then we came to a sluggish stream, and shortly after reached the straggling village of Khamba partshi,[33] with some forty wretched stone hovels. Passing through a patch of barley surrounded by pollard willows, we reached the sandy banks of the Tsang-po, and followed along it to Tongbu, the surrounding plain being known as Khamba chyang tang.

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

Further on, near Toi-tsi, we saw women making bricks, and some donkeys and yaks were carrying away those which had become sufficiently dry to be used. Two miles beyond this point we came to the famous Palchen chuvori monastery and the chain bridge (chag-zam) over the Tsang-po. This bridge, built, tradition says, by Tang-tong gyal-po in the fifteenth century, consists of two heavy cables attached at each end to huge logs, around which have been built large chorten.[34]

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

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

We and our ponies crossed the river in a roughly made boat about 20 feet long, but a number of skin coracles were also carrying travellers and freight from one side to the other. It was sunset when we reached the village of Jim-khar, belonging to the Namgyal Ta-tsan, the great monastic establishment of Potala at Lhasa. Here we obtained lodgings for the night in the sheepfold attached to the house of the headman, or gyan-po. All the members of the gyan-po's family were ill with small-pox, and he himself had but recently recovered from it. It began to rain shortly after our arrival, and what with the leaks in the roof and the noise made by nine ponies tied up near us, we passed a miserable night, and were glad to resume our journey at the first streak of dawn. After proceeding some distance we came in sight of the ruins of Chu-shul djong, on a ledge of rocks about a mile from where the Tsang-po is joined by the Kyi chu, the river of Lhasa. Some two hundred years ago Chu-shul was a place of importance, but now it is but a village of about sixty houses, surrounded by wide fields, where barley, rape, buckwheat, and wheat are grown.[35]

Passing near the hamlets of Tsa-kang and Semu, the road in many places so boggy that the ponies sank in the mire up to their knees, we came, after about four miles, to the ruins of Tsal-pa-nang,[36] where we overtook some of the attendants of the Lhacham on their way to Lhasa. After conversing with them for upwards of an hour, they rode on ahead, as they were desirous of reaching Netang by sunset; and they advised us to put up in the Jya-khang (or Chinese post station) of the same place, where we would find good accommodation.

Beyond Tsal-pa-nang the road led over a sandy plain, while crossing which we scared up several rabbits (hares?). Proceeding eastward for several miles, we came to the large village of Jang hog, or "Lower Jang," then to Jang toi, or "Upper Jang,"[37] where the beauty of the country so greatly charmed me, each cluster of houses surrounded by groves of willows and poplars, and the fields a mass of flowers, that I called a halt, and, spreading my rug under a willow tree, we made some tea, and my companions indulged in a good long drink of chang.

From Jang toi, following a narrow trail overhanging the Kyi chu, we came to Nam. Beyond this little hamlet the path leads over a confused mass of rocks and boulders along the river bank; it is called gag lam, or "narrow road," and a false step would throw one amidst the quicksands on the river’s bank, or into its eddying waters. I was not surprised to be told that the two elephants sent to the Grand Lama by the Sikkim rajah had had great difficulty in getting by this place. After a tedious journey of about three miles through the sand and over the rocks, we got sight of the famous village of Netang,[38] where the great saint and Buddhist reformer, Atisha, or Dipankara, died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About a mile from Sing donkar we came to Donkar, which is considered as the first stage for persons travelling officially from Lhasa.[39] Then we passed by Cheri, where is the city slaughter-house; and here, strange as it may seem, the Kashmiris come to buy meat, for most of those living at Lhasa are so lax in their observance of the Mohammedan laws about butchering that they will eat yaks killed by Tibetans, even though they have been put to death by wounds of arrows or knives in the stomach.

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

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

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