a BY THE SAME AUTHOR Modern Japan: Its Political, Military, and Industrial Or- ganisation Colloquial Japanese Introduction to Mahayana Buddhism Manual of Buddhist Philosophy TO LHASA IN DISGUISE DR. WILLIAM MONTGOMERY MCGOVERN ST, TO LHASA IN DISGUISE AN ACCOUNT OF A SECRET EXPEDITION THROUGH MYSTERIOUS TIBET ‘ BY Wm. MONTGOMERY McGOVERN Pu.D. (Oxon.) FORMERLY LECTURER IN CHINESE AND JAPANESE, SCHOOL OF ORIENTAL : STUDIES, UNIV. OF LONDON THORNTON BUTTERWORTH, LTD. 15 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON First Published - - ° - - 1924 Second Impression . - November, 1924 MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN All rights reserved DEDICATION | TO WILLIAM DEDERICH, ESQ. DEAR Mr. DEDERICH,— It would seem to me quite wrong that this book should go out without being dedicated to you, for not only were you the kindly patron through whose unfailing support and co- operation the whole journey through Tibet was made possible, but it is entirely owing to your insistence that the present book has been written. I had intended to write a somewhat technical volume dealing with the scientific results of my journey through Tibet, with special reference to anthropology, both physical and social, omitting all matters of merely personal reference, but you have persuaded me that you, and perhaps some others, would be _ interested in reading a plain account of some of the personal experiences which my secret expedition to Tibet entailed. It certainly was interesting to be forced to see Tibet, and the Tibetans, from the Tibetan point of view, to live as a Tibetan for months when a false word or act would have given me away; to be forced to study their quaint customs, not merely from a dry, dull, scientific standpoint, but also that I might journey amongst them without being detected, and so I have given way to your arguments and, departing from my custom with previous books, have tried to describe some of the varied experiences which I encountered during my secret expedition to the Sacred City. I have, therefore, put off to a subsequent volume discussion of the more technical side of my exploration work, detailed notes on the physical geography of the country, and the comparative anatomical measurements which I made with the view of ascertaining the exact racial position of the people. 7 8 DEDICATION In the same way I have postponed detailed treatment of the minute points of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy—a subject which greatly interested me—and have tried to make the present volume one which can be read with interest and enjoyment and not merely be used as a book of reference. At the same time I have tried to include in this work some- thing which would make it of more lasting worth, numerous notes of personal observation of various aspects of the country and of the people. I have tried to weave through the record a general but accurate description of manners and customs and beliefs, including some of the extraordinary institutions which exist in the government of Lhasa. Finally, I have tried to give an adequate description of the great transformation which has taken place in Tibet during the last few years, so that I hope it can beclaimed that my book gives to the general public its first exact information concerning the present diplomatic, political, military, and industrial situation in a country which occupies such an important strategic centre that it is of interest to all students of Asiatic and world affairs. This work is sent out in all true humility. I make no pretence to style or to fine writing, but if you and others can get any pleasure from reading of adventures which took place, and observations which were made on ‘‘ The Roof of the World,” I shall feel more than repaid for all the trouble which the~ writing of this book has entailed. You and I both know how much I am indebted to Mr. TB. Pryde-Hughes for his constant and efficient help in the preparation of the book. Wm. MonTGOMERY MCGOVERN. CHAPTER I II CONTENTS TIBET AND THE TIBETANS . THE FIRST ATTEMPT . . - BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM ON THE TRADE-ROUTE ° GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST. PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER . ' TRAPPED IN THE PASSES . *“ VICTORY TO THE GODS!” THE DISGUISE TESTED ; PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT . LIFE ON THE PLAINS . ; ON TO SHIGATSE : : THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT SHIGATSE ONWARD . ; ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA . GOSSIP AND CUSTOMS. ‘ INTO THE LION’S MOUTH . RUNNING THE GAUNTLET . THE GOAL IN SIGHT . : EXPOSED! iy. : , 9 e IIo II5 130 144 163 176 199 215 223 238 254 262 IO CHAPTER XXII XXIII XXIV XXV CONTENTS THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES . SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA MODERNISING LHASA . LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS = . Dr. William Montgomery McGovern, .. : . Froniusprece FACING PAGE The Oracle of Tibet ‘ ‘ < The Oracle as he is normally, with his Servants . Gyangtsé: The Golden Chorten (Pagoda) . “Satan ’’—Dr. McGovern’s harebrained Tibetan Secretary . The Road to Gyangtsé Gyangtsé, the Third City of Tibet Monks at Prayer inside a Tibetan Cathedral ~The Trashi Lama Procession with the Palanquin of the Trashi Lama Tibetan Aristocrats ; Mother and Daughter A Tibetan Princess in Gala Dress : ‘ A Religious Dance by Lamas in a Tibetan Monastery . Tibetan Lama Dancers in Masks A Tibetan Lama Orchestra Tibetan Noblemen : ‘ The Monastery of Drépung, near Lhasa. Lhasa: The Potala, the Palace of the Dalai Lama One of the Main Streets in Lhasa Tsarong Shapé, Commander-in-Chief of the New ral Pe 44 44 54 58 120 120 166 180 180 184 184 196 196 220 220 250 256 268 290 12 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE Effigy of a Dead Abbot in a Tibetan Cathedral . ; - 298 A Tibetan Divinity ONC NE SOS His Holiness the Dalai Lama . i . ‘ P ~ 306 MAPS IN TEXT Maps of Asia showing Tibet . . : . . ‘ 19 Dr. McGovern’s route to Lhasa : : , ; ‘ 61 Dr. McGovern’s route through Sikkim ‘ . : ‘ 81 Sectional Map showing Ringpo and the Rong River . en. Bee TO LHASA IN DISGUISE CHAPTER I > TIBET AND THE TIBETANS For many years Tibet has been the mysterious unknown country, and Lhasa, its capital, the Forbidden City of the Buddhas, into which entrance by adventurous explorers was sought in vain. Both nature and the bvhabitants have co-operated to make entry into the country well nigh impossible. A huge table- land, whose average altitude is 15,000 feet above sea-level, as high as the summit of Mont Blanc, the highest peak of Europe, it is surrounded and intersected by even greater mountains, many of them over 20,000 feet high, shrouded in perpetual ice and snow. Tibet has an area of over one million square miles, but though it-lies between the two fertile countries of India and China, so bleak and so cold is it that nearly the whole land is a desert devoid of trees and plants, producing only patches of sparse grass which serve to support the deer, the wild ass, the yak, and herds of cattle and sheep. Barley, a hardy plant, is the one cereal grown, and even this flourishes only in the milder parts ; but hidden within the ample bosom of this arid land are vast, and almost untouched, stores of natural mineral wealth, Scattered over this huge territory are groups of natives fiercely jealous of every intruder. Many of them are nomads moving here and there with their flocks. Others form com- munities dwelling in settled villages. Nearer the larger towns, perched on high hills or precipitous cliffs, are to be found 13 T4 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE gigantic stone castles, of quaint old-world design, which frown upon the countryside. Even more’ numerous than the castles are the monasteries, for Tibet is the country of monks. One man out of every four is a priest, and such persons dwell together in vast buildings placed far away from other habitation. But such institutions, instead of being havens of peace, are the centres of turmoil. Many of their inhabitants become what are known as fighting monks and spend their time in brawling. Wild, reckless men they are. Sometimes one monastery will wage war against another, and sometimes these ecclesi- astical swashbucklers will pour into the towns, and seize and hack to pieces some unpopular governor. The monasteries, having hundreds, and in some cases thousands, of inhabitants, overawe the districts in which they are placed. . It is the monks who are fiercest in hatred of outsiders ; it is they who present the greatest danger to the would-be explorer of the inhabited portion of Tibet, for in their foreigner-hating zeal they are apt to ignore any safe-conduct which might be granted by the civil authorities to a stranger. In the very heart of this gloomy land is the sacred city of Lhasa. Here lives the Dalai Lama, who is both the Emperor and the High Priest of his people, who regard him as an incar- nate god. In his magnificent palace, the Potala, he dwelle on-~ public occasions surrounded with all the pomp that befits a living deity, and receives in audience the pilgrims who come from every part of Tibet to bring rich offerings and to adore. He who would seek to penetrate into Lhasa must first over- come the tremendous physical difficulties which bar the way to the threshold of Tibet, and even if he rise victorious over ice and snow, gnarled crag and precipitous cliff, he finds upon arrival on the plateau an angry populace Noses bars the way and insists on an immediate return. In the old days various well-known explorers tried, by means of devious routes and various disguises, to escape being turned back at the frontier, and some, indeed, succeeded in passing far into the interior, but only to find that sooner or later, before reaching Lhasa, the abode of the Gods, that they were detected and further progress barred. Among the most noteworthy of a TIBET AND THE TIBETANS 15 these explorers were the Swede, Sven Hedin, and the illustrious American scholar, W. W. Rockhill. In the last few years a few have been more fortunate. Sir Francis Younghusband, Sir Charles Bell, and General Pereira, for example, penetrating to the goal, have been able to throw a great deal of light upon many hitherto unknown aspects of Central Tibetan life. The Younghusband military expedition of 1904 to Tibet, particularly, was destined to alter greatly the internal history of the country. But in each case the torchlight which illuminated for a moment the Tibetan darkness has been extinguished, and once again and, in fact, more than ever is Tibet the mysterious unknown country and Lhasa_ the _ Forbidden City of the Buddhas. In recent years both country and capital have become more particularly worthy of study, owing to the curious developments which have taken place there. While retaining the glamour of mystery which belongs to a country ruled by monks, many of whom are worshipped as gods, a country which shuts the door on all intruders from without, it is now worthy of the interest of the student of diplomacy, politics, and economics. We are all aware of the extraordinary transformation which Japan underwent during the course of the latter part of the last century, when from a quaint kingdom of fable, closed to the outside world, it became a first-class modern power, with all - the equipment and organization of the West. A similar transforming movement is now taking place in Tibet—a movement which may have an important influence upon the political future of Eastern Asia. Until 1912 Tibet was a vassal of China, without a standing army or adequate munitions of war. To-day the Chinese have been expelled, and Tibet stands alone and independent. She has a new army, an army ever growing in numbers, well drilled, well disciplined, and armed with rifles, either imported from Europe or made in the Lhasa arsenal. Regular postal communications have been opened between the principal towns, and Lhasa itself is possessed of telephone and telegraph, quaint and crude to be sure, but workable; and that last instance of modern European culture, paper money, is now being printed. _ The government has also undergone considerable develop- ment. The Dalai Lama, the Supreme Pontiff of Tibetan 16 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Buddhism, is now in fact, as his predecessors were in name, the absolute ruler of the country. Tibet has long been possessed of t\vo curious bodies, a council of shapés or secre- taries of state, constituting a cabinet, and a Tsongdu, or National Assembly, the Tibetan Parliament or Congress; but in the last decade both these bodies have undergone an interest- ing evolution, making them correspond more closely to their European counterparts, and even in distant Tibet constitutional crises are by no means unknown. What is most curious is that these modern movements seem to have had no effect in rendering Tibet less exclusive—in fact, in some ways the ring grows tighter. In previous years the Chinese at least were admitted to Lhasa, and now even these are excluded. The new institutions, such as the post and the telegraph, are employed as the most efficient means of keeping the European intruder out, as in this way constant communication between the frontier and the capital is ensured. To the adventurer and the explorer, therefore, Tibet at the present moment presents a fascinating field of research. In my own case I was equally interested by Tibet as the luring past, and as the womb of the unborn to-morrow. As an anthropologist I became fascinated by the Tibetan people, with their customs, their language, their religion, and their literature. All of these are in some way unique. As one who had studied some of the modern developments in diplo- ~ macy and statecraft in the other countries of the East, I was anxious to study the changing institutions of this hidden, theocratic empire, and to see what effect these developments might have upon the relations of the surrounding peoples. In bygone years I had devoted much time to a theoretical study of the Tibetan language and customs, in the hope that this would the better enable me to carry on exploration at first hand. But it was my privilege to utilize this stored-up knowledge and to continue my studies under very peculiar conditions. Circumstances forced me to cross an 18,000-feet pass into Tibet in mid-winter, at a time when it was blocked with snow and supposedly closed to all travellers, even natives. Arrived in Tibet, I had necessarily to disguise myself as a Tibetan coolie, and to travel as such through the heart of the country. During the latter part of this secret journey the TIBET AND THE TIBETANS 17 Tibetan Government learned of my escapade and ordered a sharp watch to be kept for me at all the villages., The caravan with which I was travelling, in the humble capacity of servant, was several times stopped and examined without my being discovered. At last I arrived in Lhasa. Here I was foolish enough to reveal myself voluntarily to the authorities, with the result that the monks in Lhasa led a popular riot against me, and the civil Government, in an attempt to protect my person, was forced to declare me a prisoner of state until the popular clamour had subsided. After a six weeks’ stay in Lhasa, I was permitted to return to India, an escort being given me in order to ensure my safety. In this way my adventure came to an end, but in the mean- time I had been able to secure numerous priceless manuscripts, had met or seen all the principal persons in the sacred city, and had had unequalled opportunities for studying the inner life of the Tibetan people and the working of their institutions. CHAPTER II THE FIRST ATTEMPT THE journey which was destined to have this adventurous end started in a much more conventional fashion. It was, in fact, but the sequel to an earlier open expedition by a party, consisting of five Europeans engaged on scientific research, which penetrated one hundred and fifty miles inside the Tibetan frontier, and managed to acquire a great deal of scientific material before it was stopped and turned back by the order of the Tibetan authorities. It was only through this expedition, of which I was a member, that I gained the necessary experi- ence and information to enable me to carry out my journey in disguise, so that it is necessary in the first place to give a short account of this first attempt to reach the Forbidden City. In r92r Mr. George Knight, F.R.G.S., conceived the idea of organizing a research mission to Tibet to carry out a thorough survey of the country and the people. It was first of all necessary to get in touch with someone who was in a position to organize and finance such an expedi- tion. After several disheartening failures to secure such support, Mr. Knight obtained the hearty co-operation of Mr. William Dederich, F.R.G.S., who was a friend of the late Sir Ernest Shackleton, and who had rendered that great explorer practical help in the organization of Shackleton’s 1914 Antarctic expedition. Mr. Dederich is not only a generous patron of scientific exploration, but a man whose administra- tive ability renders him of great assistance to an expedition faced with the complicated problems of equipment and organiza- tion. By his aid the idea was soon placed on a stable basis and active steps could be taken towards sending out the explor- ing party. 18 THE FIRST ATTEMPT 19 At first the personnel of the new expedition consisted of four persons, viz. Mr. G. Knight, the leader, who was also to look after botanical and zoological research ; Captain J. E. Ellam, the co-leader, who was to devote himself to the study of the political and religious institutions of the country; Mr. Frederic Fletcher, who was to act as geologist and also trans- port officer to the party; and finally Mr. William Harcourt, who was appointed cinematographer, for it was realized that in modern times a living pictorial record of the land and baud INDIAN OCEAN the people should be an a a part of every scientific expedition. At a somewhat later period—in fact, only a short time before the date fixed for departure—I was asked to join the mission as general adviser, as it was thought that my previous residence in the Orient and my knowledge of the Tibetan language and customs might prove useful. Through the kindness of Sir 20 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE E. Denison Ross I was able to secure leave of absence from my University, and was thus enabled to accept the invitation. We had then to decide upon the direction by which Tibet was to be entered. Three places at once suggested themselves. One was to advance from the east through China. Another was to go from the west through Kashmir and Northern India. The third was to start from Darjeeling, and to pass through the small semi-independent state of Sikkim, which lies between the larger countries of Nepal and Bhutan, and over the Himalayas into Tibet proper. ‘ This last was the route eventually selected, because it would bring the expedition into immediate contact with the central portion of Tibet and with its two great cities, Shigatsé and . Lhasa. This route was the more preferable because, as a result of the Younghusband expedition, the Indian Govern- ment had secured the right to send certain specially-selected persons to two places inside of Tibet itself. The first of these places was the town of Yatung in the Chumbi Valley, just inside the Tibetan frontier. The other was the city of Gyangtsé, a hundred and fifty miles in the interior. Persons permitted to travel to either place were required to go in a direct line, without deviating in any way from the main trade- route. The India Office and the Government of India were approached on the subject, and after some negotiation gave us the necessary permission to travel to Gyangtsé, there to apply to the Tibetan Government for further permission to proceed to Lhasa and other portions of the interior, but refused to give us any further support or recognition. In July 1922 the party set sail for India. It was found impossible for all the members to go out together, so it was agreed to make Darjeeling our rendezvous. Fletcher and Harcourt, however, accompanied me on the s.s. Nellore, and after touching at Malta, Port Said, Colombo, and Madras, we arrived at Calcutta in the middle of August. It was then, of course, the height of the Indian summer, and on many occasions the thermomete1 registered 110° in the shade. I have always had a fondness for tropical heat, but my companions suffered so much from it that, after collecting the boxes which had been sent out from England and making THE FIRST. ATTEMPT 21 a number of further purchases necessary for camp life in Tibet, we went by rail to Darjeeling, where before long the whole of our party assembled. Darjeeling lies on an outer spur of the great Himalayan range. It is over 7,000 feet above sea-level, and even in summer is delightfully cool. For this reason it was made the summer capital of the province of Bengal: Calcutta, of course, being the winter capital. The chief objection to Darjeeling is its great rainfall, most of which occurs during thé summer months, which is the period of the rainy season all over India. » Sixty years ago Darjeeling (properly Dorjeling—the Temple of the Thunderbolt!) consisted of an insignificant village, forming part of the territory seized by the British Indian Government from the little independent hill state of Sikkim by way of reparations. Reparations in those days seem to have been a matter more easily and quickly settled than now! Darjeeling. has had a very rapid development and is now a flourishing city. A large portion of the land seized along with Darjeeling, land which is known as British Sikkim, is laid out in tea plantations, supervised by Europeans, who use Darjeeling as their supply base and frequently ride in for dances and other festivities: their club, the Planters’ Club, is a very important institution. Apart from these, the resident European population is very small. The more important officials of the Bengal Government have villas scattered along the hillsides, but these are occupied chiefly in summer, at which time the hotels and boarding- houses are also packed with visitors. The native population is much larger and is more permanent. The great Darjeeling market-square is the famous meeting- place for people of every race and caste. There is a substratum of the old Sikkimese population. Sikkimese are really Tibetans who, in comparatively modern times, have migrated and settled south of the Himalayas. They have kept the appear- ance, the language, and the religion of their Tibetan ancestors, and for their benefit there are three Lama (Tibetan Buddhist) monasteries in the neighbourhood of the city. In recent years numerous settlers have arrived from the Indian plains. These, 22 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE of course, are either Hindus or Mohammedans, and for their benefit there have been erected a Hindu temple and a mosque in the heart of the city. An even larger number of people come from without the bounds of British India. These include immigrants from the still independent parts of Sikkim, and from Bhutan, Nepal, and Tibet. Tibetans are to be seen all over the town and attract a good deal of attention from the tourists. Many of them have brought down curios from their native lands which are sold at enormous profit to European visitors. ‘ Our party stayed for some three weeks at the Labyrinth, a small residential hotel, and it required all of this time to com- plete our preparations. Knight and the other members of the expedition frequently visited the market-place in order to secure those supplies which had not been procured in either England or Calcutta. I, for the most part, was engaged in “ going native,’’ spending long hours with the Sikkimese and Tibetans who are resident in Darjeeling. A number of the Tibetans were lamas, or priests, who had come down to India to go on pilgrimages to the holy places of Buddhism. Buddhism has long died out in India which is, however, frequently visited by Buddhists of other lands, who love to walk in the footsteps of their Master, dead these two thousand five hundred years. These long conversations served both to practise my Tibetan colloquial language, and also to add to our scanty stock of information about the conditions existing in the Forbidden Land. The good manageress of our hotel, a dear, stout old Scotch lady of strict Presbyterian doctrine, with singular views n “ the heathen,” often lifted her hands in horror when she saw my private sitting-room crowded with weird pilgrims who had come from north of the Passes, with the odour of the mountains still strong upon them. The Umdze, or Dean, of one of the local Sildsimnese temples was one of the most frequent of my visitors, and as he had already been to Shigatsé and to Lhasa, the goals of our journey, and therefore knew the way, I at length engaged him as my secretary, and procured for him leave of absence from his temple so that he might come with us. It is considered very impolite in Tibet to call a man by his name when he possesses THE FIRST ATTEMPT ‘ 23 a title of any sort, so he should have been called Umdze- la (‘‘la,” lit. “lags,” being a term of respect which may mean either Mr., Mrs., Miss, or Master). But this was too much of a mouthful for our party. So they christened him ‘“ Toby,” and ‘aide to the end of the journey he remained. One of the most useful of our informants in Darjeeling was Laden La (lit. ‘legs, Idan lags”), a very well-known character in this part of the world. The son of an insig- nificant Sikkimese landowner, he entered the police force while a boy, became a police sergeant, and eventually was given a commission as captain, and became deputy. and acting superintendent of police. Shortly after our arrival in India he was made an honorary A.D.C. to Lord Lytton, the Governor of Bengal, a unique honour for a native. His unofficial position, however, is even greater, and we found him the uncrowned king of the whole Darjeeling district. as sk we * * It is almost entirely at his order that Darjeeling remained nearly free from the Gandhi movement that swept over the whole of India. * % * x oe Fortune has brought him into very close touch with the highest Tibetan officials. The two great potentates of Tibet, the Trashi Lama of Shigatsé and the Dalai Lama of Lhasa, have both made visits to India, and in both cases Laden La was lent to them by the Indian Govern- ment to act as a guide and guard. As a result of this Laden was made an honorary chamberlain of the Dalai Lama’s Court, and was given the rank of Depén, or General, in the new Tibetan army, and a few months after my return from Tibet he was actually called to Lhasa to organize, for the Dalai Lama, a police force for the capital. We found him an exceedingly acute and able man, and so soon as he was good enough to grant us his favour we found things mysteriously expedited, for not only did he give us letters of introduction to various people in 24 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Tibet, but he enabled us to secure able and faithful servants. ; : We had next to arrange for our transport. Wheeled traffic of any sort was of course impossible over the passes, and is unknown anywhere in Tibet. For ourselves and our bearers we secured ponies, and for the major portion of our transport, mules. We intended to keep to the great high-roads even after entering Tibet. Along these high-roads it is always possible to hire animals, and as this was cheaper and less trouble- some, we decided against purchasing any horses, particularly as any animals we might purchase in Darjeeling would be unfit for use on the high plateau of Tibet. For the first part of our journey riding-ponies were to cost us five rupees, and transport mules three rupees, a day. We were now in a position to start on our journey. In any case we should have to pass through the semi-independent state of Sikkim on our way to Tibet, but it was decided that our main party should take the short-cut which lay through the south-east of this little country, while I was to start a few days earlier and make a detour in order to visit the Maharaja, or King, of Sikkim, at his capital of Gantok, rejoining the main party at Yatung, just inside of the Tibetan borders. I was anxious to start on September 5, but this was an unlucky day, according to Tibetan calculations, and Toby insisted that I wait until the next day, which was more auspicious. The Tibetans are grossly superstitious, and arrange all their affairs with reference to lucky and unlucky days. These are calculated both with reference to the days of the month and also the days of the week. Thus, for example, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays are bad days on which to start some new undertaking, while Mondays, Wednesdays, and Sundays are considered fortunate. The ninth, thirteenth, nineteenth, and twenty-ninth days of the month are considered of particularly good omen, and Toby pleaded that we postpone our departure until the nineteenth and also a Sunday, doubly favourable. He seemed very much surprised that I refused to sacrifice two weeks in order to start things properly. At last he consented to come on the sixth, a Wednesday, provided that we started at nine o’clock, which the calendar declared to be an opportune hour. THE FIRST ATTEMPT 25 In case urgent business makes it necessary for a Tibetan to start a journey on an unlucky day, he will, on some preceding lucky day, have a hat or some other article of clothing sent on ahead a mile or two on the road, because it is thought that in this way the gods can be beguiled into believing that the man himself started on the correct occasion. I was told a good tale of a Tibetan who took a long journey with his wife. He so arranged the matter that he arrived at and left each town en route on a lucky day. While still on the journey the poor wife died (was this part of the good luck ?) and the delay caused by this event upset the whole schedule, . so that the man was held up for several weeks at a little village waiting for the next series of auspicious dates to come round again. On the sixth a special service was held in Toby’s monastery at daybreak, and at his earnest invitation I attended this cere- mony in order to receive the special blessing of the abbot. Armed with this blessing, I returned and made the final preparations for the departure at the fateful hour of nine. This took place without mishap. Toby, Lhaten, my bearer or personal servant, and I trotted away on our ponies, and we were followed by two coolies on foot who carried the baggage, for I was travelling light and required no mules. At first the way lay through the damp, hot, luxuriant forest which characterizes the southern slopes of the Himalayas, conditions in such marked contrast to the bare, treeless, arid, lifeless plateau of Tibet, which lies just north of that magnifi- cent range of mountains. From the Tibetan point of view our start may have been very propitious, but personally I considered it very unfavourable, for after we had gone a mile or two it began to rain, and in fact continued to pour down for the rest of the day. This very much hindered our progress, and we had to stop at the little village of Peshok. The next day we continued on our way. An important milestone was reached when we came to the Tista River. It is spanned by an imposing-looking bridge, _ but one which is really ramshackle and unsafe. There is a cart-road which goes as far as Kalimpong and Gantok. but 26 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE when the carts reach this bridge they have to be taken apart and hauled over. Here I was instructed by Toby on two important points of Tibetan etiquette. He would not allow me to ride over the bridge, but insisted that I get off my pony and walk across as a sign of reverence to the gods of Tibet. In the middle of the bridge we found a . number of paper prayers fluttering in the breeze. Toby brought out three such printed prayers which he had carried with him, and tied them on to the others, and at the same time he threw a couple of copper coins into the river as an offering to the deities which dwell therein. This last is an important custom which the Tibetans share with the ancient Romans. : We next ascended a long slope, and found ourselves in the afternoon in the town of Kalimpong. This is the last outpost of the British-Indian Government and an important city of trade. It has been called the Harbour of Tibet, for while neither European nor Indian trader is allowed in the heart of the Forbidden Land, the Tibetans are free to come down to India and sell their goods—chiefly wool—and take back with them cheap knick-knacks for sale in the markets of Shigatsé and Lhasa. Kalimpong serves as the meeting-ground for Indian and Tibetan traders just arriving or returning to Lhasa, the secret city, so that to see the caravan leaders coming in from the north was like having communication with another, unseen, half-fanciful world. In order to promote trade, the local authorities organize various fairs in Kalimpong, which are attended by hordes of people of all races, chiefly Bhutanese, Sikkimese, and Tibetans, and the anthropologist has only to go to Kalimpong to find abundant material for the study of types. Kalimpong differs from Darjeeling in many ways. In the first place, Kalimpong is part of the territory seized not from Sikkim, but from Bhutan, and is, therefore, the centre of the district known as British Bhutan. It is some 2,000 feet lower than Darjeeling (being 5,000 feet above sea-level), but has the advantage of being much less damp than the latter city. The social distinction between the two towns is even greater. Darjeeling is essentially an official post, and therefore the THE FIRST ATTEMPT 24 missionaries play a very minor and subdued part even in the social life of the place. In Kalimpong, on the other hand, things are very different. Here the missionaries reign supreme. All the important buildings belong to the Scotch Presbyterian Mission, which also owns large tracts of land in the district. The senior missionaries form the local aristocracy, overawing even the British—Indian officials, and Dr. Graham, the head of the Mission, is the uncrowned king of Kalimpong, the arbiter and dispenser of justice even to those not inside the Christian fold. Dr. Graham has won this unique position largely as a result of his forceful, and tactful, personality, for from the purely missionary point of view the Tibetan peoples form a . singularly unpromising field and very few converts have been won. Considering this and one facts, it is curious that the Tibetans prefer Kalimpong to Darjeeling as the base of their communications. with India, but certainly the fact is undisputed, and there is, therefore, good reason to suppose that Kalimpong will gradually rise and Darjeeling STRUOAUE sink in importance. — From Kalimpong the caravan-road leads on direct to the Jelap Pass and the Chumbi Valley in Tibet. This was the road destined to be followed by my main party, but in order to visit Gantok, I had the next day to descend once more to the Tista Valley and follow for many miles the course of the Tista River. In the afternoon we reached the frontier of Sikkim. We were stopped by some Sikkimese frontier police and had to show our passes permitting us to enter the country. For many years the British Government has had diplomatic relations with Nepal and Bhutan, but both these countries have maintained their independence. Sikkim, on the other hand, though also nominally independent, has come much more closely under British influence and control. The Maharaja of Sikkim recognizes the nominal suzerainty of the Emperor of India. An English Political Officer is resident in Gantok, the capital, and wields a great deal of influence; but Sikkim, in common with other so-called native states, is still entirely autonomous on nearly all local and internal matters, possessing her own laws and courts of justice, her own ministers and council of state, her own system of taxation, and her own defence force ; 28 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE and no European can pass within her borders unless armed with a special official pass. I noticed, however, that the gendarmes, or soldier-police, who demanded our passes were Nepalese who, though in the pay of the Sikkimese Government, could not even speak the Sikkimese language. Soon after crossing the frontier it began to rain very heavily, so we halted for the night at the village of Rangpo, situated in the heart of the warm, moist Tista Valley. This part of Sikkim has an infamous reputation for malaria and other tropical fevers, so we took great care to boil our water and to wrap ourselves up in mosquito-nets, for the air was black bscsats: germ-carrying insects. The next day we continued on the Gantok road, and hated © at another little Sikkimese village that evening. On the way we stopped to rest for a few minutes from time to time, and on these occasions we began to be troubled with leeches. These horrible bloodsucking little creatures were hidden in the under- growth, but they must have smelt our presence, for as soon as we stopped they began coming towards us with great rapidity in their curious form of locomotion. Although they look like black earthworms, instead of gliding along the ground in snake- like fashion, they rise on their tails until they are absolutely perpendicular, then, arching their heads down to the ground, bring their tails up to their heads. They thus measure their» distance along the ground. It is really comic to see these tiny creatures, without legs, walking along a path, the head and tail taking the place of legs. In spite of my vigilance, two or three attached themselves to my body and began thirstily sucking blood. I wanted to tear them off, but my bearer Lhaten would not allow me to do this, as the flesh comes off with them leaving a nasty wound which refuses to heal for many days thereafter. In accordance with his instructions, therefore, I had to allow the creatures to continue their ghastly work until he prepared a little bag filled with salt, and, dipping this in water, let the brine trickle down on to the leeches. This had a magical effect. The loathsome creatures shrivelled away into seeming nothing- ness, leaving only a little clot of blood which we easily wiped away. THE FIRST ATTEMPT 29 We found the road surprisingly good, but our day’s destination proved to be an insignificant little village. We stayed here in comfort at the little Government rest-house, fitted out in an entirely European style. Official rest-houses are scattered all over the inhabited part of Sikkim. CHAPTER III BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM ‘ WHEN the Indian Government carried through one of its punitive expeditions against Sikkim, it forced the Maharaja’s : Government to undertake to construct, and to keep under repair, a number of high-roads throughout the country in place of the casual tracks which were hitherto to be found, and also to erect a number of these official rest-houses. All the people of Sikkim benefit from the roads, but for the most part gain nothing from the rest-houses, for although the Maharaja himself and one or two of the higher members of his Court are permitted to use them, they have been erected chiefly for the benefit of the British Political Officer and his staff, and also for other European travellers who are given permits from the Government. This rest-house (or dak-bungalows) system forms part of the general policy of the Indian Government, which has forced a number of rulers of other native states to erect similar institutions. These dak-bungalows are really dainty little villas, with a sitting-room, two or three bedrooms, and outhouses for the use of the traveller’s servants, and animals. They are quite nicely furnished though, in accordance with Anglo-Indian custom, every traveller brings his own bedclothes, and also a retinue of servants who cook for and serve him, as each rest-house has only a chowkidar, or caretaker, in attendance. Supplies must be procured by one’s own servants in one of the local bazaars. Early the next morning we continued our journey. We had for some time a level road, and so I tried to get my pony to canter, but found that these hill-ponies have only one pace, viz.,an amble, something between a fast walk and a trot, and nothing will induce them to break into either a real trot or a 80 BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 31 gallop. They are able to keep up their amble all day, however, and can in the long-run outdistance any pony with more ortho- dox means of locomotion. The summer rains had washed portions of the road away, and I noticed a number of labourers repairing it. These also, I noticed, were Nepalese and not Sikkimese. In fact, during the last few years the number of immigrants from Nepal has been so great that the Nepalese inhabitants of Sikkim far outnumber the Sikkimese. In the early afternoon we began another long ascent, and a few hours later found ourselves at last in Gantok, the capital of Sikkim, I duly installed myself in the dak-bungalow, and -a few moments later the private secretary of the Maharaja called to welcome me in the name of his master, and to state that His Highness would receive me in audience the next morning at eleven. Later in the evening five servants arrived from the palace bringing presents of food, so that I was made to feel quite a guest of state. The next morning at the appointed time I walked along the ridge over to the Maharaja’s palace. This consists of two buildings, one built in Tibetan style, and the other in European style ; but it is significant that the European house 1 is the only one now in use. I found the Maharaja a very affable young man of about twenty-five, pale, thin, and rather nervous and anzmic-looking. Affairs of state did not obviously hold particular interest for him, though, however, he felt bound to take them as seriously as possible. His hobby is photography, and he spends a good deal of time in playing with his pet animals. Much more impressive and imposing was his wife, the Maharani, a Lhasa woman, who obviously had a good deal to say in the AG ay > of the household. The Maharaja was educated at St. Paul’s School, Darjeeling, and speaks excellent English, but in deference to his lady we spoke a good deal of Tibetan together. The Maharaja spoke Tibetan with a marked Sikkimese accent, using a number of local words, but was quite intelligible. What he thought of my accent Heaven only knows ! The present ruler of Sikkim came to the ehirene quite unex- pectedly. : ame 32 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE His predecessor was his brother, a young man of great talent and charm, who was educated at Oxford and who had travelled very widely. He was very much struck by Japan, and was very anxious to marry a Japanese woman. * The India Office, for obvious diplomatic reasons, refused to permit such a match. It is interesting to note than the India Office had the power to do this. The young Maharaja then tried in vain to marry a Burmese princess, but in the end he was forced to take a Lhasa lady. In spite of his modernist tendencies, his secular position, and his state of marital bliss, he enjoyed the distinction of being regarded as an incarnation of divinity by both Sikkimese and Tibetans. This was the result, not of his kingly position, but of a rather interesting . chain of circumstances, which deserve narration. It is well known that the abbots of the leading temples in Tibet are regarded as incarnations of various deities, or, more technically, of various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. When such a person dies he is supposed to be reborn again almost immediately. A search is made for the sacred child who, when found, is at once recognized as the new abbot, a regent being appointed to administer his duties during his minority. In some cases the selection of the child is done purely by lot. In other cases the old abbot, shortly before his death, will give some indication as to the place, or family, in which he intends to be reborn. On one occasion, many years ago, one such living deity grew very fond of a little Sikkimese girl, and declared shortly before his death that he would be reborn as the first male child to whom she should give birth. After the death of the old man, the then Maharaja of Sikkim, learning of the prophecy, married the girl, who in due course gave him a son and heir, who was thus regarded as a deity while his father was still on the throne. It is surprising that this young ruler whose character was thus swathed in the atmosphere of this quaint old-world divinity should have developed into a man so modern and European in his ideas. In fact, he proved too progressive for his country and his people, and not long after he returned to his native land he died suddenly and mysteriously. Rumour had it that some of his old-fashioned ministers, disturbed by fear of too radical changes gave enough poison to secure that BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 33 the divinity moved on to still another incarnation, in order that his younger brother in this life, who was likely to prove more pliable, might come to the throne. My morning audience with the present Maharaja was not the last meeting I had with him for, learning that I was anxious to push on the next day, he invited me to tea that afternoon in order that I might meet the Englishman who acts as his personal assistant. This tea-party proved very entertaining, for it was quaint to have such an orthodox English meal in the midst of such other-world surroundings. The personal assistant proved to be a bluff, jolly man of great simplicity, whom I liked immensely. He had, I think, been for many years a non- commissioned officer doing clerical work, and had only recently, upon semi-retirement, taken over his new post. His position threw an interesting light on the relations between Sikkim and the Indian Government. The senior British official in Sikkim is the so-called Political Officer, appointed directly by the Viceroy of India, and he exercises an enormous amount of power. In theory, however, his post is entirely diplomatic, his office corresponding to that of a minister or ambassador, so that it is impossible for him to interfere too much in the details of everyday internal adminis- tration. As a further check on native malpractices, therefore, the Maharaja is given an English “ personal assistant.”’ He is nominally a servant of the native ruler, and in theory can be engaged and dismissed by him, but in practice he holds his post at the pleasure of the Political Officer. It is the duty of - the personal assistant to act as secretary and adviser to the Maharaja on all matters of State (though in theory his advice may be disregarded), and also to superintend the wheels of the administration and to see that no serious corruption or mal- practices take place. The entire control of matters of State theoretically lies in the hands of the Maharaja, aided by the Council of State, consisting of various ministers in charge of separate depart- ments, and nominees chosen from the Sikkimese landed aris- tocracy. All the members of this body are, of course, natives, and it is the wise policy of the British Government to allow the native officials to carry out their duties according to their own Cc 34 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE desires so long as there is no flagrant injustice and so long as they do not touch on diplomatic affairs. Very occasionally an important point of policy will be forced on the country by the Political Officer. One such point was an importation of Nepalese settlers into the country. — A few decades ago the population of Sikkim consisted of three or four thousand Lepchas, and a slightly larger number of Sikkimese. The Lepchas are supposedly the primitive inhabitants of the country. A timid, spiritless, nature-loving, childlike folk, they still try to dwell in the hidden forests, far away in the hills. They are probably distantly, but very distantly, related to the Tibetans, but they possess a language and a primitive culture entirely their own. The so-called Sikkimese are Tibetans, who in the last three hundred years have swept down into the country from the north, conquering and displacing the Lepchas. Great strapping creatures, most of them are, but incurably “ shiftless ’ and lazy. Sikkim is rich in resources, but neither Sikkimese nor Lepcha could be made to develop these. Consequently the Political Officer of the time, Mr. J. C. White, forced the Sikkimese Government to import Nepalese labourers and other settlers, and now there are nearly ten Nepalese for every one Sikkimese, even in Sikkim. This has proved enor- mously beneficial to the wealth of the country, but needless to say it proved unpopular among the Sikkimese, who were forced to work in competition with a keen and industrious people. So far, however, the Sikkimese have kept official posts entirely in their own hands. The Maharaja urged me to stay in Gantok for several days longer, but I told him that it was imperative for me to go on with my journey the next day. He was then kind enough to suggest that I dismiss the ponies and the coolies I had brought with me from Darjeeling, as he would supply me free of cost mule transport for my party to Yatung, in the Chumbi Valley, the great Tibetan outpost. | I was very glad to avail myself of his offer, and the next morning set out for the three days’ journey to the Passes. This consisted of a long continuous ascent along a narrow trail which had been cut into the side of the cliffs. In some places the road was only 2 feet wide and we had a sheer drop of 2,000 BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 35 feet below us. It was a very exciting journey, as my mule would insist on walking along the extreme edge.of the road on the very brink of nothingness. In summer the road is fre- quently washed away, and in winter the path is completely blocked by snow, so that spring and autumn are the only times one can count on getting through. Even in September I found the road in a very bad state and saw numerous Nepalese coolies busy repairing it. Gantok lies 6,000 feet above sea-level. The next day brought us to Karponang, at an altitude of 9,500 feet ; the day after to Changu, with its beautiful lake, 12,600 feet above sea-level ; and early the following morning we came to the Natu Pass, which at this point divides Sikkimese from Tibetan territory, and which lies some 14,000 feet above the sea. The last day the climb was so steep that it was impossible to ride and the sharp ascent had to be made on foot. At such an altitude climbing was terribly fatiguing, and to make matters worse we began to suffer from mountain-sickness, a gruesome exaggeration of the symptoms felt in sea-sickness. I was reminded here of the story of the poor British soldier who took part in the 1904 military expedition against Tibet, and who remarked on the way up that he had always heard that Tibet was a tableland, and that if so, the road up to it must constitute one of its legs. Very bleak and forlorn is the Natu Pass. In the winter it is oftimes covered by thirty feet of snow, and it seems to be a central area for great winds and thunderstorms. Nevertheless, the view gained from the top was worth all the trouble, the pain, and the fatigue of the ascent. In the distance we could see the snowy cone of the sacred mountain of Chumolhari, at the base of which we knew the real Tibetan plateau started. Immediately below us was the Chumbi Valley, the curious outpost of the Tibetan Empire, which only at this point stretches south of the Himalayan ranges. We had, first of all, to make our way down into the thickly- populated valley in order that later we might work our way up its sides until we came to the barren tableland of Tibet proper. The descent proved nearly as difficult asthe ascent. To make things easier, the steeper portions of the road, if it could be dignified by this name, wound round and round in a singularly 36 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE sinuous fashion, for even a mule cannot maintain his hold when his tail is vertical over his head. Despite the convenience of this winding path, there are a great many casualties every year among the mule caravans which make their way over the passes. It was September, and no snow had fallen since the preced- ing winter, but here and there we came across great patches of snow which even the fierce summer sun had not been able to melt away. At last, however, we came to the bottom of the valley, and I was able to see something of its picturesque villages and their inhabitants. In many respects the Chumbi Valley is quite unique and is unlike any other part of Tibet. A narrow valley . on the south side of the Himalayas, it forms a wedge of Tibetan territory lying between the states of Sikkim and Bhutan. Like these latter countries, and unlike the barren plains of Tibet proper, the sides of its hills are covered with trees, and it receives a very heavy annual rainfall, something which is entirely unknown on the Tibetan plateau. Owing to the severity of its climate, the only crop which true Tibet can grow is barley. In Sikkim, on the other hand, the staple crop is rice, hence its Tibetan name of Drenjong, or the Rice Country. In the Chumbi Valley the main crop is wheat, and consequently it gets the Tibetan appelation of Tromo, or Wheat Country. Ethnologically, as well as geographically, Chumbi is quite distinct from Tibet, for though the Chumbi people, in common with the Bhutanese and Sikkimese, are of Tibetan origin, they have a dialect and many customs entirely their own. They have the deserved reputation of being the most beauti- ful of all the peoples of Tibetan stock, and many of the young men and women I passed were really remarkably handsome. Unlike the true Tibetans, with whom filthiness is a virtue esteemed by the gods, the Chumbi people are occasionally known to wash themselves. I was particularly interested in the Chumbi Valley, because it is only by an accident that to-day it does not form part of the British dominions. After the success of the Younghusband expedition in 1904, it was arranged that Tibet should pay reparations to the extent BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 37 of Rupees 7,500,000 (or £500,000) to the British Government. And pending the full payment of the amount, the Chumbi Valley was to remain in the hands of the British Government. It was originally agreed that this sum was to be paid in seventy- five annual instalments, which meant that England would have a seventy-five-year lease on the Chumbi Valley, equivalent practically to annexation; but things were destined to turn out otherwise. In the first place the Liberals came into power in England, and in a burst of anti-Imperialism voluntarily reduced the reparations claim to one-third of the original amount. Secondly, China, anxious to get rid of British occupation every- > where in Tibet, came forward and arranged to pay the whole sum immediately on behalf of Tibet. This was eventually agreed to, and so the British occupation of Chumbi came to an end, though the Indian Government reserved the right to keep a Trade Agent there, and to station a small body of Indian soldiers to act as his bodyguard ; but the administration of the district was handed back to the Tibetan officials. The British agency is placed in the village of Yatung (pro- perly New Yatung), which the Tibetans called Sashima. I reached this place that same afternoon. Immediately on arrival at the village, I saw a house with a Union Jack flying over it, and knowing this to be the British Agency, I at once set off to make an official visit. I must confess that I went there with a certain feeling of undeserved shame. In order to protect myself from the bitter morning cold of the Passes, I had put on an airman’s helmet, which completely covered all of my face except my nose. In this very high rarefied atmosphere any portion of the body exposed to the sun becomes terribly sunburned, in spite of the intense cold, and so when I pulled off my mask before making my visit I found that my face as a whole had retained its pallor, while my nose was a most fiery red. I looked indeed so like a con- firmed toper, that I determined to make a firm display of teetotal principles immediately on meeting the British . agent. My meeting with the Trade Agent turned out to be un- expectedly pleasant and informal. The term Trade Agent is 38 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE somewhat misleading. His duties are exactly those of a consul, but he is given his title because he is appointed by the India Office and not by the Foreign Office. The present occupant of the post is a most charming Eurasian by the name of MacDonald. His father was a Scotch tea- planter near Darjeeling. His mother was a Sikkimese. His wife is a Nepalese, while one of his daughters married an Englishman, so that his family can be considered truly cos- mopolitan. His mother’s language being but a variation of Tibetan, he speaks that language with great fluency, which makes him an ideal figure for his post—the intermediary between the Tibetans and the Indian Government, though it it is interesting to note that, because of his Scotch blood, and . in spite of his personal friendship with the Dalai Lama, the supreme ruler of Tibet, he also is not allowed to go outside of the so-called trade-route, the narrow strip of land that connects Yatung with the city of Gyangtsé, still farther in the interior. Even to him, apart from the two towns of Gyangtsé and Yatung and the direct road which runs between them, Tibet is the Forbidden Land. There was a rest-house at my disposal at Yatung, but Mr. MacDonald very hospitably insisted upon my staying with him until my main party should arrive from Darjeeling, and in the course of many long conversations with him I secured much useful information. The next day brought a little excitement in the arrival of Major F. M. Bailey, the Political Officer in Gantok, who has also complete charge of diplomatic negotiations with the states of Bhutan and Tibet. The British Trade Agent may be called the Consul, or even the Consul-General, while the Political Officer is the Ambassador, save that he is not allowed to visit Lhasa, the capital of the country to which he is Great Britain’s diplo- matic representative. In the old days there was an equal ban upon his visiting the little kingdom of Bhutan, but this is gradually being lifted, owing to some very astute diplomatic moves. The Bhutanese were to the surrounding peoples what the Scots robber barons were to the English at one time. No neighbouring district was free from a raid, and they spread terror and desolation wherever BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 39 they went. During the last century they gravely mistreated a British envoy and the invasion of British India by some of their marauding bands forced the Indian Government’ to take action and seize a goodly portion of Bhutanese territory, which is now known as British Bhutan. Asa sort of rent, however, a yearly sum of money is paid to the Bhutanese Government on condi- tion that it keeps its subjects in order. Trouble continued for some time after owing to the weakness of the Central Bhutanese Government. There were two “ Kings’ of Bhutan: one was the Dharmaraja, or spiritual overlord, and the other was the secular head; but neither possessed any efficient control over the Pénlop, or district . governors, who were hereditary, semi-independent barons. It was obvious, therefore, that a change in policy was neces- sary. In 1904 one of these magnates, the Tongsa Ponlop, had become the most influential person in Bhutan. He rendered very valuable diplomatic assistance to the Younghusband expedition while in Tibet, and largely on the advice of Mr. White, the previously-mentioned Political Officer in Sikkim at that time, not only was the Tongsa Pénlop made a K.C.LE., but the Indian Government decided to give moral backing enough to allow him to declare himself the first hereditary Maharaja, or King of Bhutan. This change was duly made, and under the new ruler’s strong hands Bhutan has been welded into’ a co-ordinated and centralized state. The new ruler did not forget his gratitude, and though Bhutan has remained closed to the ordinary Englishman, the Political Officer in Sikkim has, on several occasions, made a state visit to the capital of Bhutan. Major Bailey was just returning from one such visit. On this occasion he was accompanied by his wife, and by his mother-in-law, Lady Cozens-Hardy. They seem to have had a very interesting journey. — The next day I paid an official visit to the Baileys, and they were kind enough to invite me to lunch. Later events were to bring me into very violent political conflict with Major Bailey, but personally our relationships were always of a very friendly character, and certainly he is a most interesting and capable man: a great sportsman and a traveller. In the past he has taken several secret journeys 40 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE through Tibet, though he only got to Lhasa in company with the Younghusband Expedition. He had only‘recently secured the post of Political Officer, and I was much interested to learn from him something of his policy towards Tibet, as in his hands lies, to a large extent, the future relations between India and Tibet. From a personal point of view this presents a very great contrast to that of his predecessor, Sir Charles Bell, and well illustrates two different ways of handling Orientals. Sir Charles Bell aimed not at overaweing the Tibetans, but at securing their close sympathy and friendship. In order to do this he thought it necessary to conform to certain aspects of prejudice and superstition. Thus, for example, he did not either fish or shoot. He abstained from tobacco, as the Tibetans regard the use of tobacco with horror. When in contact with Tibetans he abstained from eating fish and chicken, as the Tibetan regard these foods as unclean. This extraordinary regard for native susceptibilities is not always successful, but in the case of Sir Charles it seems to have worked wonders, and I was later to find that many Tibetan officials have an unusual affection for him. Major Bailey has followed in the more ordinary lines of British administrators, who believe it inconsistent with the maintenance of dignity to pander too much to native ideas, but certainly his policy has not decreased British prestige in this part of the world. But I believe that there is no great ive lost between the past and present Political Officers, and as Mr. MacDonald, the Trade Agent, and nominally Major Bailey’s subordinate, is a protégé of Sir Charles Bell, the relation between the Political Officer and the Trade Agent has some- times an interesting side. A day or two later my main party arrived in Yatung, and shortly after Major Bailey and his party returned to Gantok, but not until he had given us final and rather unexpected orders. As previously stated, he has authority to grant special passes permitting Europeans to go on to Gyangtsé, several miles farther into the interior, and these he handed to us, but only after extracting from each of us a solemn promise that we should not depart from the main, direct route to Gyangtsé, and further that, in the event of the Tibetans refusing us permission to go farther, we would return immediately to India. This was BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM AI a serious blow to the scheme which I had already in mind of going on in disguise from Gyangtsé in case we were refused permission to go on to Lhasa, but equally vexatious was the promise we were forced to make that, even if we could extract permission from the Tibetan officials to go on to the Forbidden City, we should leave our cinematograph camera behind at Gyangtsé. For scientific purposes we had very strongly wanted to get a living record of Lhasa life, but we were completely in the Political Officer’s power, and had to sign the necessary guarantee. °. CHAPTER IV ON THE TRADE-ROUTE WE were now in a position to move on, but before doing so our reunited party decided to pay an official visit of courtesy to the Tibetan Depon, or General, who was the chief official of . the Chumbi Valley, and who was placed there to carry on any necessary negotiations with the British Trade Agent. We rode down the valley for a bit and soon found ourselves in front of his house. It was a substantial mansion of typically Tibetan design, being built around acourtyard. Its walls were of stone and were four or five feet thick. The door only was of wood, and was painted in gaudy Chinese design. Entering the courtyard, we ascended to the second story, which was the residential part, and met there the Depén, who proved to be a most beguiling old man, trained in the school of Chinese diplomacy. He assured us that since we hady\come to Tibet its desert wastes would bloom with lotus-flowers;sand while flattering us in this unctuous fashion was concocting-a™ letter in his mind which, as soon as we had left, he secretly wrote to the Lhasa Government advising them to have nothing to do with us. Nevertheless, we got an excellent and free lunch out of him. Returning that evening to Yatung, we found that a Bhutanese chieftainess had arrived with three of her husbands —all people of Tibetan stock practise polyandry, of which more hereafter. They were on a visit to Mr. MacDonald, having been invited to attend the wedding of his daughter and arrived exactly a month too late—a typically Oriental way of keeping an appointment. I noticed the husbands were very meek and tame-looking, and I heard that the doughty dame had the reputation of being something of a bully. 42 ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 43 Both men and women in Bhutan wear very short dresses, so that the chieftainess exposed to sight a vast quantity of leg, but seemed not in the least discomposed about it. In contrast to the elaborate head-dresses of the women in Tibet proper, the Bhutanese women wear their hair bobbed, and it was really comic to see so modern a European custom on so primitive a woman. It was obvious that she was not only wealthy but strong, for she wore around her neck a great necklace of coral, which weighed more than fifteen pounds. Her conversational abilities were limited, and her favourite amusement was chewing betel, which she spat out with great gusto upon some of Mr. MacDonald’s fine carpets. Her aim - was remarkable, and reminded me of the performance of certain Kentucky colonels with chewing tobacco. She was very courageous generally, but very much afraid of dogs. On one occasion we were out in the garden and a puppy ran up and barked. The Bhutanese chieftainess gave one shriek and ran for protection—not to one of her husbands, but to Mr. Harcourt, the cinematographer, the youngest and hand- somest member of our party. She clung so desperately that all the breath was squeezed out of him before I had time to pick the puppy up and put it in its kennel. After this episode we began to fear that Mr. Harcourt would be kidnapped and added to the lady’s ‘“‘ harem,” and so we deg#aéd, without fail, to leave the next day on the road for “ayangtsé. Shortly after leaving Yatung, and while still following the narrow ravine which leads from the Chumbi Valley to the Tibetan plateau, we came to the great Chumbi Monastery, well known on account of its learned abbot, and also because of the famous oracle, or prophet, who is housed therein. I was shown all over the monastery, and then, with two of our party, had lunch with the abbot, and we had a high time talking over fine points of Buddhist theology. The old man, though educated at the great Trashilhumpo Monastery at Shigatsé, was born in Mongolia, and so I was able to win his affection by talking to him in his native tongue, which he had not heard for many years. _ ' Our whole party then assembled to see the oracle. Like the late O. Henry, I am not superstitious in that I refuse to believe 44 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE in black cats, palmistry, or the weather forecasts in the news- papers ; but certainly our prophet friend turned out to be very interesting. Although at present the most famous, he is not the only oracle which Tibet possesses. Formerly there was in Lhasa itself an oracle renowned for his prophecies, but in the course of a long life he made one mistake. At the beginning of the Younghusband Expedition—the Tibetans dignify it with the title of the war between India and Tibet—he foretold that Tibet would be successful and drive the barbarians away. - After the final defeat of the Tibetans and the*flight of the Dalai Lama, he went the way of all false prophets, and had his head removed from his shoulders, since when he has *‘ ceased to prophesy. I observed the Chumbi oracle very closely, and found that his methods correspond in general to those used by mediums in the West. He goes into an ecstatic trance, frequently accompanied by epileptic symptoms, and while thus obsessed delivers semi-coherent words which foretell what is to happen. Generally, like the Delphic oracle of old, his prophecies are delightfully vague, and can be made to fit the event however it may turn out ;. but it is remarkable that half-way through the great world war he foretold the exact year and month in which hostilities would cease. AY Not long after leaving the monastery we came to the village of Gautsa, the last village of the Chumbi Valley. Here we bade good-bye to the trees. Hereafter we were to live on the desolate ‘‘ Roof of the World.” The next day we emerged from the ravine-valley formation, and found ourselves on the great Tibetan tableland—broad, treeless, plantless plains bordered by rippling, even hills; hills, however, which were 18,000 to 20,000 feet above sea-level. Continuing along the plateau for some hours, we at last came in sight of Pari Castle, situated in the centre of the great Pari Plain, with Chumolhari, the sacred mountain, looming in the background. On reaching the town of Pari, the first thing that we noticed was a tiny sacred island in the middle of a frozen lake. Hereon were erected prayer-flags which, as they fluttered in the breeze, wiped out the sins of man, according to Tibetan belief; and iF \ THE ORACLE OF TIBET THE ORACLE OF TIBET With his servants and as he is normally fon af its ee t+ y Ay ; ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 45 here morning and evening was burned incense, the sweet odour of which appeased the dark demons of the night. Behind the island of prayer, and protected by it, is the great castle of Pari, the giant outpost fortress guarding this part of the Tibetan frontier. Armed as we were with special passes permitting us to go as far as Gyangtsé, the local officials were unable to turn us back, and so made the most of a bad job by inviting us to a State luncheon, which lasted for four hours. Most of the food was in Chinese and not in Tibetan style (Chinese cooking is in Tibet what French cooking is in England and America), but we were forced to consume enor- mous quantities of Tibetan tea. I was very much amused by one incident. The use of tobacco is very strictly prohibited in Tibet. The smoking of tobacco is regarded by Tibetans in very much the same way as is the smoking of opium in Europe (it is curious that the Chinese never taught the Tibetans to smoke opium), but one of the two governors of the castle had contracted a great liking for cheap English cigarettes, two or three of which he smoked while we were there. During the lunch he sidled up to me and in a whisper implored me to say nothing about his smoking in Lhasa, because if it were known he would inevitably be dis- missed and disgraced. After lunch was over we ascended to the roof of the castle and gained a panoramic view of the town of Pari, which has the well-earned reputation of being the filthiest town in the world. Owing to the fact that refuse has been continually thrown into the streets, these streets are now nearly on a level with the roofs of the houses, which look as if they were built underground. Pari is, in fact, buried in its own filth. Picturesque it certainly is, however, for on every roof there flutters a prayer-flag or two, and on many of them are piled heaps of barley-straw and yak-dung. On the outskirts of the town could be seen fields sown with barley, but being nearly 15,000 feet above sea-level, and exposed to the untempered influence of the Himalayan cold, this barley very seldom ripens, and its stalks can only be used as animal fodder. No other cultivation is possible, so that the local inhabitants must get their living from their flocks, and as carriers on the great caravan-route between Lhasa and 46 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Kalimpong. Most of the precious wool which Tibet sends down to India comes through Pari. While continuing our march the next day, we were very much struck by the great beauty of the neighbouring mountain, Chumolhari. This peak is 24,000 feet high, and its steep sides and proudly-precipitous glaciers render it one of the most difficult mountains in the world to ascend. The natural grandeur of Chumolhari has impressed itself even upon the stolid Tibetan, and he worships the mountain as a goddess, as the fair lady of the everlasting snows, and on its sides they believe dwell the gnomes, the demons, and the goblins who play such an important part in Tibetan folk-lore. For the most part our way lay along the great bare, desolate plains, occasionally intersected by mountains. Sometimes the plain narrowed down to a valley between such mountain ranges. Properly speaking, there are no roads in Tibet. The officials need all the tax-money for their own private require- ments, and have none to spend on public works ; but though Tibet excludes outsiders, the Tibetans are great travellers inside of their own country, and the great caravans going to and fro in Tibet have worn out for themselves a settled route. In some places the ground is too sandy for the yaks or mules to leave any permanent tracks, but in other places, where the ground consists of mud or clay, one sees huge ruts or tracks through which the animals have picked their way for ages. Wheeled traffic is completely unknown. The only cart which the country possesses is used to transport an idol inside the city of Lhasa, and this has to be pulled by men. We were travelling slowly, as we wished to see something of the country, and so en route we were overtaken and passed by Mr. MacDonald, who was also going to Gyangtsé to look after us while we were there. Formerly there was also a British Trade Agent at Gyangtsé, but for some time past Mr. MacDonald has been in charge of both posts, so that frequently he has to go from one place to the other. A day or two later “‘ Toby,” my lama secretary, became very ill. We thought it was pneumonia, which in Tibet, owing to the rarefied atmosphere, is always nearly fatal, so we imagined we were in for a bad time. The next day he grew worse, and as the main party could not delay, they went on, leaving me ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 47 and Lhaten behind to nurse Toby, and, if necessary, to bury him. There was nothing we could do except to feed him with cod- liver oil and malt and wait for the crisis. One afternoon, a couple of days later, while Toby was asleep, I got out some of my Tibetan books—all books in Tibet are of a religious charac- ter—and began chanting from them, as I thought it was the best way to continue with my Tibetan studies. This continued some two hours, and by a curious coincidence, when Toby awoke, we found the crisis had passed and that he was much better. By the natives the benefit of the cod-liver oil was forgotten, and the “cure ”’ was attributed to my religious incantations, and I was put down as a “ holy man,” a reputation that was later to stand me in good stead. A day or two later we were able to go on again, and by travelling double stages we soon caught up with our main party. Our long journey to Gyangtsé was broken each evening by our stay in one of the official rest-houses, erected at the order of the Indian Government, in order to establish a line of communi- cation between their two outposts in Yatung and Gyangtsé, and available for strategic purposes in case of the renewed outbreak of hostilities. At each camp we spent some time in trying to gain the friendship and confidence of the natives. Throughout this part of Tibet, in this narrow six-mile strip reaching to Gyangtsé, they had become inured to foreign barbarians, but were apt to be sullen. We found, however, that music has indeed charms to win the savage breast. With us we had a small portable gramophone, and the villagers crowded around to hear the weird noises that came out of the box. In fact, after the ice had been broken, they even entered into a competition to see who would be the first to learn the tango and the fox-trot and the shimmy. It was now the autumn season, and as we passed through occasional straggling villages we could see the peasants hard at work harvesting their crops. Tibet is far too bleak and cold to be an agricultural country, and the one thing that can be grown in any quantity is barley, an unusually hardy plant. The threshing was carried on by the process which has come - down from time immemorial, and consisted of the whole family walking on the barley stalks and stamping out the grain, 48 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Round and round they went, wife, husbands, and children, aided by the slow-moving Tibetan cattle, a cross between Indian cattle and the indigenous yak of Tibet. On many occasions, as we went along the road, we passed by some shrine or sacred image. One of these, the famous Red Idol, as it is called, is quite imposing, and I noticed, with particular interest, the heap of tiny stones in front of it. As Tibet has no flowers to present to the idols, the Tibetan peasants will carry pebbles and heap them up before the image —certainly a very curious way of showing their respect. Beyond is the Red Idol Gorge, named after the image, and here I caused my servants a great deal of uneasiness by galloping on ahead of our party and alone. The gorge is noted for its bandits and highwaymen, and Tibetans will only go through it in large parties. As I passed through I noticed one group of horsemen who did indeed look somewhat suspicious, but instead of trying to avoid them, I made straight for them, and to my surprise they immediately turned tail and scampered away. Two days later we came to a little village where the narrow valley widened out into a plain once more, and we could see ahead of us in the distance the town of Gyangtsé, our immediate goal, CHAPTER V : GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST GYANGTSE is sonie 147 miles inside the frontier. It is the third largest city in Tibet, and is the seat of an important administrative district. In common with other such places, the town itself is dominated and rendered almost insignificant by the great stone castle, which is on the top of the hill in the very centre of the plain. The castle is one of the most imposing anywhere in Tibet, and certainly deserves to rank on a par with any of the medizval European castles, although it has only recently been rebuilt. A mile and a half away from the castle the Indian Govern- ment has erected a strongly-fortified block-house, where are housed the British Trade Agent and his escort of soldiers. It is necessary to keep this armed escort here in order to see that no attempt be made on the life of the British agent by any of the fanatical peasantry. ‘ We found Mr. MacDonald, the agent, waiting for us, and he gave us a warm welcome and lunch. The fort is connected by telegraph-wires with Yatung and Kalimpong, so that it is possible for the agent to communicate at once to the Indian Government ‘any event of especial importance which may take place in Tibet, though communications are much handicapped by the fact that no British representative is allowed to reside in Shigatsé or Lhasa, or anywhere within the interior, and the agent jas to rely very largely upon the vague rumours which , o., their way down to Gyangtsé. he establishment of the British agency and fort here is the ’ direct result of the Younghusband expedition, which was of such far-reaching importance that just a word must be said concerning it. D 49 50 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Owing to the close proximity of Tibet and India, the British— Indian Government tried for many years to enter into diplo- matic negotiations with the Tibetan hierarchy. As far back as 1774, Warren Hastings, the first and greatest of the Governor- Generals of India, sent a diplomatic mission to the Trashi Lama in Shigatsé, under George Bogle, and followed this up by another mission in 1783 under Turner. Neither of these had any permanent effect, and neither of them got to Lhasa. Gradually Tibet became more rigid in her isolation, and the relations between India and Tibet grew worse and worse. This was accentuated by various boundary disputes, and by the question as to which country was to have paramount influence in Sikkim. : A final peaceful settlement was rendered difficult because the Tibetan officials refused even to negotiate : special letters which were sent by the Viceroy of India to the Dalai Lama, and couched in the most complimentary terms, were returned unopened. In 1903 the British sent a special commission under Younghusband to Kampa Dzong, just inside the Tibetan fron- — tier, and asked the Tibetan Government to send down represen- tatives with whom they could negotiate. This request was ignored, and as at the same time the Dalai Lama was coquetting with Russia, it was decided to send an armed expedition into Tibet in support of Colonel Younghusband’s mission, to see that no harm befell the members of this mission as they continued on into the interior in order to negotiate a treaty of peace with the Tibetan Government. Instead of marching forward from Kampa Dzong, it was decided that the expedition should move forward into Tibet along the very same line which we had followed. Skirmishes took place between the Tibetans and the British forces at Guru, and one or two other places between Pari and Gyangtsé, but the most serious engagement took place in Gyangtsé itself, where the Tibetans delivered a serious attack and heavy fighting took place, in which, in the end, the Tibetans were worvted. For some extraordinary reason, the Tibetans still re:used to enter into serious negotiations, and it was necessary for ti:e mission to continue its march from Gyangtsé to Lhasa, at which city it arrived in August 1904, only to find that diplomatic negotiations were still difficult, as the Dalai GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 51 Lama, the Supreme Pontiff, and many of his TEN ec officers, had fled. It was obviously impossible to pursue the Dalai Lama ind bring him back, and the rapid approach of winter made it necessary for the British troops to return to India as soon as possible. After several weeks of delay, Colonel (now Sir Francis) Younghusband eventually got the leading people in Lhasa together and forced them to sign a treaty of peace. The terms of this were very simple. It provided principally for the opening-up of trade centres at Yatung and Gyangtsé, and also in Gartok in the extreme west of Tibet, to which British officials were to be appointed, and to which British subjects approved by the Indian Government might travel. Fearing Russian and other encroachment, it was stipulated that Tibet should not sell or lease any of her territory or resources to any foreign Power. The Indian Government was anxious to secure the right to keep a diplomatic representative in Lhasa, but the Tibetans raised such a storm of protest against this suggestion that it was waived, but only on the condition that no other representatives or agents of any foreign Power should be admitted to Tibet. Immediately after the signing of the treaty the Young- husband Expedition returned, and the close isolation of Tibet, apart from three places specifically mentioned in the treaty, continued. As we were anxious to go farther into the interior, and even to be accorded permission to go on to the capital itself, it was neces- sary for us to apply for special grace on the part of the Tibetan officials. Sooner or later the matter would be referred to Lhasa for final decision, but it was necessary to carry on negotiations with the officials resident in Gyangtsé, and in order to secure their recommendation we were advised to accompany our request with a little personal ‘‘ keepsake’”’ in token of our regard. Mr. MacDonald was kind enough to advise us which persons wer” the proper people to approach. In the first place, we -eiimbed up to the castle and paid a ceremonial visit to the governors there; but even more importance was placed on a State call upon the Kenchung, who is generally called the Tibetan Trade Agent, as it is his duty to negotiate with the 52 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Pritish Trade Agent in Gyangtsé. The old Depén in the Chumbi Valley is more of a consul, and the Kenchung may be termed the Tibetan Ambassador to Great Britain, although his ambassadorship keeps him inside of his own country. He is only three-fourths Tibetan, having Chinese blood in his veins, and several years’ residence in China has taught him how to conduct negotiations in the wiliest of ways. I was surprised to find that, though he spoke Chinese fluently, he was unable to read or write a word of it. Later I discovered that this is true of most of the Tibetans who claim to have a knowledge of Chinese. There are quite a number of such peeple, owing to the long period of Chinese domination in Tibet, but they are nearly all confined to the official classes. One of the few serious mistakes which Kipling made in his Kim, that most fascinating of all books, is to suppose that the Tibetan lamas, or priests, are conversant with Chinese, or quote from it for ecclesiastical purposes. In Tibet I never met a single priest who had any knowledge of literary Chinese— not even of the Chinese Buddhistic literature. In the old days the Kenchung must have spoken Chinese very fluently, but I found that he was getting rusty, as he had not used it for ten years. As is generally known, until 1912 Tibet had to acknowledge the suzerainty of China. Two Chinese Ambans, or official residents, were kept in Lhasa, and numerous petty officials and soldiers were scattered throughout the country. There had long been a strong nationalist move- ment in Tibet, and eventually, taking advantage of the Chinese revolution of I911, the Tibetans were able to overcome their Chinese masters. Many of them were killed, and the remainder were sent back to their native country. Tibet declared herself absolutely independent, and refused even to have Chinese diplomatic representatives in Lhasa. This has greatly simpli- fied British negotiations with Tibet, as in the old days one never knew whether to communicate direct with the Lhasa officials or with the Chinese overlords, and this dual sway was made the excuse for much evasion of treaty conditions. ‘ The Kenchung received us with a great deal of state, a after hearing our desires and requests, informed us that he was powerless to give or refuse permission to go on, but that he would send by courier to Lhasa a communication in which he | ‘4 GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 53) would state our whole case. Pending the ultimate decision, we were not to advance a step farther into Tibetan territory ; Sut we had his permission to wander about the city as much as we pleased. We were very glad to avail ourselves of his invitation. The period of waiting continued much longer than we had antici- pated, and, in fact, extended over a period of nearly two months; but so busy were we adding to our experiences that the time passed very quickly. Official visits to various local notabilities in an attempt to ingratiate ourselves with the natives took*up,a good deal of this time, but in addition many hours were spent in casual wanderings through the ‘busy market-place and the teeming, irregular streets of the city. The market-place and a large portion of the residential section of the city belongs to the monastery built on the slope of the hill which arises just behind the town. This monastery, needless to say, was visited by us on several occasions. As monasteries go inside of Tibet, the Gyangtsé establish- ment is not particularly large, as it has only a thousand monks within its walls, but historically it is both famous and impor- tant. The monks have at their disposal some twenty build- ings. . Of these the most important is the Du-Kang or the great assembly-hall, in which are placed the principal images. It is here that every day all the monks gather together to read their liturgy and perform their religious ceremonies. On either side of the great doorway are two great images, representing in all the four great guardian deities of the four quarters of the world. The Tibetans believe that, by placing these fearsome images at the entrance-hall, no evil spirit can enter into the temple itself to disturb the pious monks at their prayers within. The images inside the temple were equally interesting, some of them being remarkably well made. The principal image was taat of the historical Buddha, the Indian sage who walked theearth preaching the doctrine of emancipation from the Wheel of life more than two thousand years ago. Strangely enough, such images are rare in Tibet, as the Tibetan prefers to worship at the shrine of some purely mythological deity, one of the so-called non-human, or Dhyani, Buddhas. \ 54 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE \Another image showing fine craftmanship was that of the Bodhisattva Maitreya. A Bodhisattva is a being who in some nea¥ future birth will gain the crown of Buddhahood, or supreme enlightenment. Maitreya, the compassionate, is the next Buddha destined to be born in the world, and is adored by nearly every sort of Buddhist. He is frequently portrayed almost as a European. I have sometimes seen representa- tions of him with white skin and blue eyes, and in nearly all cases his image is sitting on a chair in European style as opposed to the Oriental cross-legged attitude assumed BY the other Tibetan deities. What, however, proved most eitertaiaied was a small chapel on the third story—the hall of the abbots, with numerous: images representing the past bishops or archbishops of the Gyangtsé temple. The curious mitres which some of them wore were particularly striking, as were also the high, and even aquiline, noses of some of the departed worthies, a feature in such great contrast to the broad, flat noses of the modern Tibetan peasant. Immediately to the left of the Du-Kang, or the assembly-hall, is a great gilded shrine called by the Tibetans a chorten, and popularly called the Golden Pagoda. This is the object of pilgrimage on the part of the peasantry for hundreds of miles around. | Let into the walls of the lower part of the pagoda were a number of revolving barrels. These were the famous Tibetan prayer-wheels. It is the duty of every man, as he passes along, to stop and twist these wheels, causing them to revolve. By this exercise, it is believed, a man acquires an enormous amount of merit, and by his pious efforts he is ridded of all his sins. Certainly, in Tibet, salvation from sins seems extraordinarily easy, and it is, I think, a facility which is greatly needed by its inhabitants. From the bottom of the great shrine we could look up the hill and see numerous other monastic buildings. At the top of the slope was the great storehouse where is kept a huge q supply of dried yak’s-meat and barley-flour for the us@—= = of the monks during winter. A little below it was the residence of the Lama Trodampa, or the abbot of the whole monastery, fea GYANGTSE: THE GOLDEN CHORTEN (PAGODA) GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 58 I put on the whole ecclesiastical outfit given me by the great Buddhist cathedral of Kyoto as a token of, my honorary Buddhist ordination, and paid the old lama a visit. He received me with great courtesy. We had a long conversation, in the course of which he remarked that in order to understand Tibetan Buddhism one required a knowledge of Sanskrit, the classical language of India. By chance the little gift which I had brought with me to present to him was a Buddhist book in Sanskrit, so after his statement I thought it a good chance to*give it to him, but I found that the old gentleman had been “ bluffing,’ because he understood not a word of it, in spite of his exalted position. This little misunderstanding did not militate against our getting along together very well, and the abbot was kind enough to let me have the use of the temple library, with its thousands of valuable and long-forgotten manuscripts. These were brought to our rest-house from time to time, and I was able to make a number of interesting “‘ finds.” This made me feel all the keener to get on to Lhasa, where, of course, the literary material was much greater, and all of us waited from day to day in anxious expectation of favourable news from the capital. Alas! All of our hopes were suddenly blighted. One morning we received a visit from the Kenchung, who informed us that a definite answer had now been received from Lhasa, and that in no circumstances would our party be permitted to journey there. This was indeed a very sad blow to all our fond expectations, and meant decisive and absolute failure. Anxious to grasp at any straw that presented itself, we decided to make one more desperate attempt to carry out part of our ideas. We thought that possibly the Lhasa Government had been affected in its decision by the comparatively large number of Europeans in our party. Consequently, Knight, Fletcher, and Harcourt returned immediately to India by the same way which we had come, though they stopped en route to make a closer survey of the environs of Mount Chumolhari, and managed by their surveys to add many interesting details to our geographical knowledge of the country. Ellam and I remained in Gyangtsé a short time longer in order to send in a further petition to the Lhasa authorities, ask- ing that they reconsider their decision and allow us to come to 56 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE the Forbidden City, or, failing this, that we be permitted to visit Shigatsé, the second largest city in Tibet, the seat of the famous Trashi Lama, and the centre of an important ecclesias- tical organization. We further requested that, should both these favours be denied, at least we be given permission to remain for a few months in Gyangtsé in order to continue our researches there. Another two weeks brought us an answer to this petition in no uncertain terms. All three requests were given a decisive refusal, and we were peremptorily ordered to leave the country immediately. I was very much put out by this curt refusal and the way it was handed to us, and was anxious to start my attempt to reach the Forbidden City in secret and in disguise immediately. I . had here numerous native friends and sympathizers who would have aided me in my attempt. But I remembered my promise given to Bailey that I should return to India in case of refusal, and rather than break my word I decided to return to Darjeeling with Ellam. So we turned back on our weary way ; rendered all the more weary by the sense of failure and dis- appointment. We crossed over the Jelap Pass into India at the end of November just in time, for we met with a snowstorm which continued for many days, and eventually stopped all traffic for many weeks thereafter. Once back in Darjeeling (we arrived there on December 9), I was entirely free from my bond and began making active steps for a new undertaking, for I was determined that, come what might, I should make one more attempt to reach the Sacred City of the Buddhas, if necessary even by stealth and by disguise, and to trust to luck to help me through the dangers of detection and possibly of violent treatment at the hands of the religious fanatics in this land of seclusion. on CHAPTER VI » PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT I was determined to keep to my promise no matter at what cost, and so had come back to India before starting on my new undertaking, but even during my long stay at Gyangtsé, every day I had been making special studies which would enable me to undertake the new journey in disguise. By this time I was so well known personally on the Yatung—Gyangtsé road that I definitely decided not to use this route again, so it was necessary to learn something of the other roads and passes leading from India into the interior of Tibet, and this knowledge had to be secured very delicately, as the Tibetan authorities were already suspicious of my movements. Consequently long hours were wasted in casual conversation, in order that I might slip in seemingly purposeless questions about other parts of the country. Gradually my cipher notebook was filled with a huge mass of miscellaneous information concerning towns, roads, snowfall in passes, and the severity and laxity of various officials in different parts of Tibet ; but much was still lacking that in order to carry out my designs it was desirable to know. As the journey would have to be done in disguise, with grave danger of detection, it was necessary to train myself to act asa Tibetan. The renewal of intensive study of colloquial Tibetan since August had, of course, greatly aided my fluency in speak- ing. I could now converse for several hours on end with no great difficulty, but this was far from being able to speak as a native. More particularly, apart from orders to servants, all my practice of language had been with my native secretary, local officials, and other persons, who spoke what is known as the “ elegant language.’ I decided to travel as a servant in 37 58 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE order to attract less attention, so it became necessary to make myself proficient in “ coolie talk.’’ Consequently, rather to the scandal of the other members of the party, who as yet were completely ignorant of my design, I made frequent excuses to go to the kitchen and listen to the servants talking among themselves, making careful note of their tones, their slang, the manner in which they spoke of their own and other masters, and last, but not least, the exact way in which they squatted, spat, quarrelled, and carried on flirtations with local dames and damsels. : This was as far as I could go while I remained in Gyangtsé, but once I was back at Darjeeling, in India, I could go on with active preparations. Up to this time I had kept the idea of a journey in disguise entirely to myself, but immediately after arriving in Darjeeling I revealed my plans to the four English friends who had been my companions so far as Gyangtsé. This led to tremendous discussion, but in the end the proposi- tion was agreed to, and thereafter my companions gave me enthusiastic support through all my difficulties. At first it was proposed that I be accompanied by one of the other members of the late mission, but eventually it was unani- mously agreed that I should attempt the task of getting to Lhasa alone, inasmuch as I was the only one who could speak Tibetan at all fluently. This meant that I was forced to spend some time in learning from Harcourt the art of cinema- tography, as I was very anxious to secure a film of the Sacred City. It took exactly a month to get everything in order. This included the purchase of transport animals and the hire of servants. A visit in secret to the city of Kalimpong enabled me to secure three mules and three ponies. In Darjeeling itself I engaged four servants whom I thought would be suit- able for my present purpose. These were, first, a native secre- tary, who was later to play the part of my master on my arrival in Tibet. Owing to certain delinquencies in character, he received from me the soubriquet of “‘ Satan.’”’ The second was my “‘ bearer,’ or personal servant, who had already accom- panied me to Gyangtsé, and had proved his efficiency and loyalty. The third was a syce, or groom, who was to have charge of the animals. The fourth was a poor stunted, half- TRASHI-GIGEN (MEANING “FELICITOUS TEACHER”’)—OR SATAN The harebrained Tibetan secretary who acted as master on the journey while Dr. McGovern was in disguise PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 59 witted boy, whom I called Diogenes, and who was to act as “odd man.” All these were Sikkimese. Ethnologically speaking, Sikkim is a province of Tibet, for the true Sikkimese are Tibetans who have migrated in modern times to the south side of the Himalayas. Their kinship is acknowledged by the Lhasa authorities, so that they are allowed to go to the Sacred City at will. Inasmuch as my servants were Sikkimese, and as the Sikkimese dialect differs somewhat from that spoken round Lhasa and Shigatsé, I considered it safer to go myself as a Sikkimese, rather than as an inhabitant of one of the Central Provinces. Slight deficiencies in Tibetan etiquette and differ- ence in pronunciation would thus be explained by a story of Sikkimese origin. One of my great difficulties in engaging servants was the necessity of employing them under false pretences. It was absolutely necessary to have all my plans kept secret, as otherwise the Tibetans would certainly have heard of the project, and everything would have been frus- trated. At the same time, I knew it was impossible to make a secret departure from Darjeeling. A mysterious and sudden disappearance would have excited suspicion immediately, and a search would have been made for me. It is always useful to make one’s secret preparations “‘ under the limelight.” I therefore gave it out that I was going on a two months’ tour through Sikkim ; exploring the unknown regions and climbing some of the out-of-the-way mountains in order to carry on geological work. This excuse would allow me to disappear for several weeks on end without exciting comment. At the same time it permitted me to test the calibre of my new servants. If they were frightened at the idea of climbing 20,000-feet high glaciers in mid-winter, it was obvious they would not serve my purpose. The question of equipment had to be finally considered. All the camp kit of the ordinary explorer had necessarily to be done without, but food, clothes, and materials for disguise had to be purchased. Food-supplies were cut down to an absolute minimum, since I intended to eat nothing but native food once I was in Tibet, and even in Sikkim, through which once more we would have to journey, and to rely entirely upon local provender. Asa sort of last resort, I packed away three tins of 7 eS TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Quaker Oats and five pounds of sugar. The sugar was a luxury, my sole compromise with Hedonism, to be used along with native food, as the Tibetans never employ it or any substi- tute, being one of the few people who manage to exist without any form of sweets. The rolled oats was a necessary standby. In the past I had been able to exist for a considerable period on porridge alone when no other food was available, and I knew that we would be in some danger of starvation should we be caught in the passes by snowstorms and be unable to g0 for- ward or to return. The selection of clothes required a great deal of care. I had already purchased, or been presented with, several lama cos- tumes and also costumes such as were worn by native officials, but none of these would do in the present instance, as I had to be clad in the poorest garb. In the end I secured three coolie dresses, one new and specially made to order, and two old ones which had already seen long service, as the possession of a whole wardrobe of new clothes would have been certain to excite suspicion. Materials for disguise included hair-dye, a mixture of iodine and walnut-juice to stain the skin, dark goggles, two lemons, and a small bottle of glue to be used to camouflage the colour of my eyes. The use of these last two articles will be explained hereafter. No one outside the five Europeans of our Gyangtsé party had any inkling of what was being done. To make surety doubly sure, Knight agreed to go out into Sikkim on an independent tour in order to distract attention from me. Ostensibly both of us were to make by different roads for Pemayangtsé, the largest monastery in Sikkim. | In a quiet, unostentatious manner our small party took its departure from Darjeeling on the roth of January. No one, not even Knight, knew exactly the route I should take, though I had already worked out the journey in great detail. I was able to follow this plan almost without alteration, except for several unforeseen stops en route, and slight deviations when the road became vague, or detours were necessary for some reason or other. The rough outline on p. 61 will show, with greater clearness than words, the line of march. : PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 61 I was anxious to see both Shigatsé and Lhasa, the two great cities of Tibet, but it obviously would be better to visit Shigatsé first, as I intended to reveal my identity on arriving in Lhasa, after which I knew that further rambling about the country would not be permitted. The journey along the Pari-Gyangtsé road being out of the question, I decided to take the more direct, though more hazardous, route straight through the heart of Sikkim, march- ing due northward over the passes, entering Tibet proper near Kampa Dzong; the path would continue north through the S A apiy: Vi, , P - Ss Sa quem 4. 3 Sigs ; 2 4 oswort f) UY ‘tn ae te a They gate * ~ ¥ 4 R ao S s By Fe bn lh —* . a ° , Pay % j are yas cP pani i a * %. = B J ‘S - Say q 2d. yy, 4 a <= . To BN ‘ a XK Ns ay "y - =i AN ae 4 paige Sg ae CVn wg = = qrrnnng fa “9 rd i ( I. DOTTED LINE, ROUTE TAKEN BY FIRST EXPEDITION 2. BLACK LINE, ROUTE TAKEN BY THE AUTHOR ON HIS SECOND JOURNEY, IN DISGUISE Tsang Province until Shigatsé were reached, and just beyond it the Brahmaputra River. After this, I had in mind to follow the Brahmaputra River on its downward course to the east, until we reached a point where we could again branch off to the north and proceed straight to Lhasa. It was on this stretch that I found eventually the marches could not proceed to plan, as will be explained later on. This is a little-known route occasionally used by petty Tibetan traders in preference to the main Pari-Gyangtsé- 62 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Lhasa road, but it is supposed to be closed in winter, as the pass, 18,000 feet high, or 4,000 feet higher than the Jelap-la, is as a rule completely blocked by snow except during the short mid- summer period. Provided, however, that we could force our way through this pass in the depth of winter, the official closure of the road would prove of great advantage, because, naturally, during this time the passes would not be so strictly watched. For the first day or two my path would coincide with a road leading to Pemayangtsé (Pamionchi), my ostensible goal, as I had allowed it to be generally understood, whick enabled me to make a semi-public departure from Darjeeling. On the actual day of my departure the usual irritating last-minute details cropped up, so that we could not get away until nearly eleven o’clock. Therefore I decided to go only as far as Manjitar, just over the Sikkim frontier, and there rest for the remainder of the day. All sorts of people were hanging around, and I arranged with Knight to have one of his servants sent after me with some trifling object which I had left behind, so that, as I was leaving, I might shout out to him to keep the article until we met in Pemayangtsé some two weeks or so later. I heard afterwards that this little bit of play-acting was the subject of gossip in the bazaar and succeeded in side-tracking all suspicions as to my real intentions. The whole of the first day our road lay straight downhill, and it was so steep that it was quite impossible to ride. In fact, the freshly-fallen rain made it more of a slide than a walk. Lhaten carried the cinematograph camera—always an awkward load—and once fell very heavily. I was afraid that the appara- tus was damaged, but after the tightening of a screw or two all seemed to be well. In the late afternoon we got to the bottom of the mountain and arrived at a bridge crossing the Rangit River, which marks the boundary between Sikkim and British India. On the other side of the bridge was the town and fron- tier station of Manjitar. Half-way across the bridge we were stopped and had to go through the troublesome business of presenting passes. One of the police officials was particularly anxious to know whether I had sent in my guarantee not to attempt to get from Sikkim into Nepal, Bhutan, or Tibet, but PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 63 at this point I took-refuge in pretended stolid ignorance of Sikkimese and all other native tongues, and refused to under- stand a word. In the East, especially, ignorance is frequently more valuable than wisdom, so “ ’Tis folly to be wise.’’ In the end the official gave up the matter in despair. In this way I escaped having to commit myself to anything. I noticed, how- ever, that the police were much more vigilant than previously, and heard that Major Bailey, the Political Officer in Sikkim, was taking special precautions against any such attempt as mine., Had I given a guarantee not to pass over the Sikkim frontier into anv other state, or had been forced to admit that I had not entered irito a guarantee, I should have landed myself in,a pretty kettle of fish. It would have meant that I should be making my effort for nothing, for I should have had to renounce my desire to get to Lhasa, or even Shigatsé. Glad I was to get away from this ominous frontier station, and instead of resting in the village, I hastened my small cara- van through the place and beyond, camping that night in the open, half a mile from any habitation, at a suitable spot from where we were able to secure all necessary supplies. Besides water, the daily requisites were wood for fuel, bamboo leaves for animal fodder, milk for myself, and marwa beer for the ser- vants. The other food, such as meat, rice, eggs, and tea, we carried in stock, and only replenished from time to time. Generally speaking, in the inhabited parts of Sikkim all these things are easily procurable, but on the present journey Manjitar proved to be the only place where milk could be pur- chased, as nearly all the Sikkimese cows were affected by foot- and-mouth disease, and were either dead or incapable of giving milk. During these early days in Sikkim our camp routine was nearly always the same. First of all the tent was erected and I ensconced therein. A place was also found inside for ‘‘ Satan,” Lhaten and the other three servants sleeping outside in the open. While the syce prepared the animals for the night, Lhaten and the others prepared the evening meal. Our cooking utensils consisted of two tin boilers, a frying-pan, and a teapot. The teapot and one of the boilers were communal property, for I ate the same rice and drank the same tea as the servants, save that, in accordance with Oriental etiquette, I had always to 64 | TO LHASA IN DISGUISE finish my share before the servants began theirs. The frying- pan was used exclusively for the scrambling of my eggs—my diet at this stage consisted at all meals of only scrambled eggs and rice. The remaining boiler was used to prepare the ser- vants’ stew—meat and greens finely chopped and then boiled together. For some unknown reason I have never been able to eat either boiled or chopped meat with any pleasure, so I contented myself with eggs; but I had so accustomed myself to eating with my fingers that even my eggs and rice I ate in Sikkimese or Indian fashion, and had brought neither fork nor spoon along with me in my meagre outfit. Food having been finished, the marwa beer was prepared and slowly drunk, to the accompaniment of the eternal chitter- chatter of Eastern servants. I occasionally sucked at a marwa pipe myself, though I preferred my milk, but always joined in the conversation in order to improve my dialect, as only Sikki- mese was spoken. And then, after about two hours of this sort of thing, to sleep. To return to the day-by-day narrative: the morning of January 11 we started on another short journey, the seven-mile ascent from Manjitar to Namtsé (Namchion the maps). Owing to the precipitous nature of the road and our consequent snail’s pace interspersed with halts, this took us five hours. As usual there was a marked change in the temperature between early morning and midday. We started muffled up in overocats, and ended on the doubtful side of modesty. Half-way up the climb we stopped at the village of Kyitam for tea and sugar-cane, while “‘ Satan'’’ called on a friend to renew a row over the payment of an old horse-deal. As usual the “ silent, unemo- tional ’’ Orientals managed to raise a terrific shindy, and the heat of their arguments brought together the whole of the villagers. The two combatants chased one another around the bazaar, uttering bloodcurdling threats, but the affair ended without bloodshed, for each one was too cowardly to risk a blow. When the entertainment thus provided had begun to pall upon me, I jerked the two apart, and sent “ Satan ” on ahead. Nothing was settled, of course, but then the matter had already run on for over three years, and undoubted settlement would PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 65 have been attended with dissatisfaction, for whenever the two happened to be in the same neighbourhood they took the oppor- tunity to repeat to one another the old arguments, obtaining, I feel sure, a deal of satisfaction in the renewal of the ancient quarrel. We arrived in the Namtsé about noon, but the horses and mules were already tired, and we decided to halt for the day. In Tibet, with its great plains, a single stage is at least four- teen or fifteen miles, and one expects, if in good condition, to be able-to cover two stages a day, but the rugged nature of the Sikkim country renders such journeys impossible. Two miles an hour is a good”average, and ten miles a good day’s march, particularly if one has not a change of mounts. In the present instance I was particularly anxious to keep my animals fresh for the trying time we were sure to have in the passes. We pitched camp just above the bazaar, and as I was still travelling as a European we attracted a good deal of attention. In the afternoon the local Kazi, or Lord of the Manor, accompan- ied by his son, paidacall. During this time the Kazi and his son managed to consume the equivalent to a week’s rations of my tea and sugar. The Kazi, his household, and his immediate retainers were all pure Sikkimese of Tibetan origin, but the majority of the villa- gers, especially the bazaar-keepers, were Nepalese. This holds true of nearly all the villages of Sikkim. The Sikkimese, being Tibetans, are incurably lazy and lacking in the power of sus- tained application, so that the beelike immigrants from Nepal are steadily ousting them from all competitive positions, such as those of traders, coolies, and, to a certain extent, of agri- cultural labourers. It is only the fact that the lands are entailed in the families of the Sikkimese Kazis that prevents the Nepalese from becoming the landowners as well. At present the Sikkimese are becoming more and more the drones in their own country, and but for the power of the British Government, the Nepalese would not be prevented from invading the country and ousting the Sikkimese from their territorial rights. The next day January 12 we continued our ascent of the mountain until we came to the elevated plateau of Damtang. Twice on my way I was asked for my pass—a very unusual occurrence in the old days—which shows that the road to E : 66 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Lhasa becomes every year more, instead of less, difficult Fortunately I was still within the bounds of the law, and so was able to proceed without further trouble. But these signs of interest in travelling parties augured ill for later events. It was on this day that I began my first active cinemato- graphy. As werose higher and higher on our way to Damtung we came upon a magnificent view of Kamchendzonga—far surpassing that which one gets from Darjeeling—and this I filmed. Kanchendzonga is the third highest mountain in the world, its summit being well over 28,000 feet above sea-bevel, and it is even more impressive to look at than Mount Everest, which is nearly a thousand feet higher. Its outlying ranges run, for the most part, north and south, and form a good portion of the boundary-line between Nepal and Sikkim. Kanchendzonga occupies a curiously-isolated position. It lies several miles south of the true Himalaya range, which tends to run in a general west to east line, so that from the Tibetan plateau Kanchendzonga forms no part of the magnificent Himalaya panorama. For this reason it is in some ways the most easily accessible of the major Himalaya mountains, but it will probably be a very long time before its ascent is made, since to the climber it presents far greater difficulties than does Mount Everest. It has already claimed its toll of human life, and every serious attempt to scale its summit has met with disaster. Kanchendzonga, which means the Great Glacier Treasure- house of the Five Precious Substances, is the object of great worship in Sikkim, and it plays an important part in Sikkimese Buddhism. Special ceremonies and sacred dances are held in its honour, some of them very old, dating from a long time prior to the introduction of Buddhism into Sikkim, and there are dark stories told that, in the olden days, these ceremonies were accompanied by human sacrifices made to the spirit of the mountain. Arrived in Damtang, we came to the parting of the ways. On the left a road led to the great monastery of Pemayangtsé, while on the right a road led to Gantok, the capital of Sikkim. Up to this time all my servants supposed that I was aiming for Pemayangtsé, but it was necessary for me here to follow for a bit the Gantok road. As I did not wish to reveal to my under- PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 67 lings all of my plans; I informed them merely that, as Knight was not likely to get to Pemayangtsé for another ten days, I intended to take the road to the right and travel a few days seeing something of the unknown parts of Central Sikkim. Although our day’s journey was but half accomplished, the mules already showed signs of exhaustion, and we had great difficulty in getting them to go on. Whereupon the syce (groom) gave each of the animals a large bowl of strong tea, the usual Sikkimese expedient in such cases. To my surprise they drank this eagerly, and under its stimulus condescended to return to work. In fact, the senior mule, a female dubbed “Paris,” became so exhilarated that she tried to run away, and in her skittish attempt to imitate a playful kitten broke a box she was carrying containing our scanty provender. The precious provisions were carefully retrieved, to the accompani- ment of curses on Dame “ Paris.”’ Soon after turning to the right the road became a steep descent. As we stumbled down, and always down, we passed the villages of Temi and Tarko, from which, to the distant north, we could see the passes leading into Tibet, until eventu- ally we came near to the bottom of the valley, through which runs the Tista River. The pass which was our immediate goal lies very near to the source of the Tista, but it was a long and - arduous journey from the point on the river where we were to its source. CHAPTER VII FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER . WE continued our descent next day (January 13) down to the water’s edge, and then definitely departed from the road, turning to our left in order to follow the river-bed up to its source. The road itself crosses the river and goes on to Gantok, many miles beyond. From Gantok there is another road which returns to the Tista some twenty-five miles farther on, and then follows the river in its northerly course to the passes, so that ordinarily we should have gone on to Gantok and then come back to the Tista. But Gantok being the capital was inhabited by spies of the Tibetan Government. A visit there, consequently, was to be avoided at all costs, or Lhasa, my objective, could never be attained. Being compelled to leave the road we had now the problem of making a direct pathway for ourselves from our present point to the village of Drikchu, farther up the stream, where the road from Gantok rejoins the Tista. For the most part there was not even the pretence of a path, and for the rest there was a trail fit only for coolies passing in single file. It was quite impossible to use this trail for animals, especially when loaded; that is, impossible to use it in the condition in which we found it, as the pathway on either side was hemmed in by thick jungle growth. The journey of only some twenty-five miles was destined to occupy us for several days, as it was necessary for us to go ahead of the caravan, and with our huge knives of Nepalese and Bhutanese make, the only ones used in Tibet, cut away enough of the ferns, bamboo sprouts, and other wild vegetation to afford passage for our pack-animals. I am certain that the portion of the country we covered in this way is destined to be opened up eventually and through 68 FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 69 communication between India and Tibet ensuréd along this route. After cutting through the jungle for some miles, we came across, here and there, an isolated hut, and once or twice a tiny village almost dissociated from communication with the outer world. In many cases these were inhabited neither by Nepalese nor Sikkimese, but by the Lepchas, the original inhabi- tants of Sikkim, who were conquered by those invaders from Tibet who constitute the present so-called Sikkimese. These primitive Lepchas still continue to live an almost unaltered modé of existence in the more isolated portions of the country, such as the one through which we were travelling. The people do a little cultivation, and are expert fishers in the river pools. Sometimes they take the fish to market. Where cultivation is more extensive than usual, the peasants have trouble with the monkeys, and kill them wholesale with poison. The Lepchas appear to have no definite religion, though in their beliefs they recognise spirits of good and evil. As a general rule they practise monogamy, and they burn or bury their dead. A simple folk, they are a dying race without energy enough to carry on a strenuous fight for existence. In the daytime the heat was sweltering, and as the sweat poured down from our faces and bodies, especially when we were working at the cutting of the path, it seemed impossible to believe that in a short time—another week or ten days—we were destined to be among the glaciers we could see far away, and buried deep in snow. That first day in the wilds we halted at the tiny hamlet of Nampak, and I spent the rest of the day in studying the details of Lepcha life, as compared with that of the Sikkimese. A difficult task it proved to be, for the Lepchas have a language of their own utterly different from all other languages, and they understand almost no Sikkimese. They were frightened, too, at the sight of my Sikkimese servants, whom they considered to belong to the conquering race, and I had to get them alone before they would answer my questions. The next day (January 14) provided us with our most difficult march so far. Up to Nampak there had been vague suggestions of a trail, but beyond that there was nothing. Moreover, the ground became very rocky, strewn with giant boulders, and at one point we had a sheer slide of rock for 70 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 40 feet, tipped at an angle of 50°. For us, of course, this presented no great difficulty, but we were forced to construct a sort of rope brake for the animals. As usual the mules kept a much firmer hold than the ponies, though at the last moment ‘ Paris ”’ slipped and rolled over—an accident that very nearly cost her own life and that of “ Satan.” Up to this time we had kept to the left bank of the river, but it now became necessary to cross to the other side. This could only be done at a place called Shamdong, where there was a shaky bridge connecting two microscopic villages on éither side of the river. The Tista was still completely unfordable, owing to its swift current and to the rocks forming cataracts i its stream. : : I had no great love for villages, however, and preferred to camp in the open, even without our tent, under the natural arches of a beautiful grove about half a mile before reaching the bridge. By this time we had almost entirely broken away from the three-meals-a-day habit. In the morning, before starting, we consumed enormous quantities of strong tea, but had nothing to eat, and made the whole of our march on an empty stomach—such is Sikkimese custom. We halted about three, and it was four o’clock before our one and only meal of the day wasready. But what a meal this was! I have only a moderate appetite as a rule: the thought of having to consume three eggs at a sitting is enough to turn me away from even one. But here I was pushing down six, seven, and even eight eggs at a time, mixed in a heaped bowl of rice. The others ate to match. This development of healthy appetites necessitated the frequent replenishing of our larder, and later on in the evening I was forced to send *‘ Satan’ and Lhaten into the village to purchase supplies. By a curious coincidence one of Lhaten’s old friends had managed to find his way to the village on the other side of the river, being one of the men whom an enterpris- ing landlord imported into the wilderness in an effort to form a new community. This meeting resulted in a convivial evening for them, for the friend insisted on both servants remaining, and organized for them a drunken spree that lasted until dawn. They came reeling home just after I had got up and was trying to get started. ee a a a a as FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER at This was on the morning of January 15. I insisted on setting out immediately, so they had to buckle down to the day’s work without a moment of sleep. On the other side of the river, however, beyond the Shamdong village—one which is also called Manka—the road was very considerably improved, owing to the activities of this same landlord, who had tried to cut a path between his village and Drikchu, our immediate destination. Successive seasonal rains had washed much of it away, and the jungle undergrowth was sprouting again, but in places we could ever ride instead of having to walk ahead of the ponies and hew a way for them. On passing through the village I found another instance of the landlord’s progressiveness. In the market-place he had dug a well over which he had erected a stone covering. In one of the sides of this well-covering had been placed a stone- tablet inscribed in English with a eulogy of the landlord’s deeds and merits. No one in the village, of course, knew a word of English, and he himself was equally ignorant. I was, in fact, the only person who had ever come to the village who could read the tablet; but there, nevertheless, was the stone, imported at great expense from Calcutta, proclaiming to the wilds, with polysyllabic pomposity, the virtues and excellencies of the local magnate. Yet, absurd as this story may sound, one could not but feel that this local Cesar had made better use of his money than the plutocrats of Tibet. In spite of the great poverty of Tibet as a whole, the aristocratic families are enormously wealthy, but all of them make a display of their wealth in ways that are completely non-productive and ephemeral. A thousand pounds will be spent in providing butter fuel for the temple lamps. The cost of a single evening’s display of this kind is extraordinary, and the next day there is nothing to show for it. Temples and monasteries are allowed to fall into decay while money is poured out in entertaining the monks to sumptuous banquets. Even if the Sikkimese gentry are becoming enam- oured of seeing their own names inscribed on stone tablets, at least they must erect something enduring—a building, a well, or a bridge—to which the tablet shall be attached. The great poverty which strikes the eye in Tibet is the result not of the lack of money, but rather the misuse of it. 92 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE To return to our own adventures, both “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten started off in great spirits after their night’s debauch. “ Satan,” indeed, managed to get into a fight with a Nepalese boy we met on the way, and sent him flying for his life into the jungle. It always surprised me to find what terror the Sikkimese inspired in the Indians and Nepalese, excepting, of course, the Ghurkas. The Indians, though vastly superior to the Sikkimese and Tibetans in intelligence and industry, are easily bullied by any Sikkimese or Tibetan swashbuckler, though to a European both Sikkimese and Tibetans appear to be arrant cowards. ‘ Lhaten, to do him justice, had acquired such a hard head that he remained impervious to fatigue, in spite of his spree of the preceding night, but “‘ Satan ’”’ began to surrender to slumber shortly after the fight, when we had gone only two or three miles, and three times while riding fell so fast asleep that he rolled out of the saddle, the third time sliding gracelessly under his pony’s belly. The need to press on with the utmost speed caused me moments of acute anxiety. The weather had been fine for some time past, and I felt that, if we could only get to the pass before another snowstorm, we would have a chance to get through. Every moment’s delay was dangerous. But the last time “ Satan ”’ fell, which was after we had travelled only some seven miles, he was in such a stupor that it was with the greatest difficulty we could raise him. In the circumstances I thought it necessary to halt for the day, much as I disliked the idea of losing even a few hours. The short march did not seem to have decreased my appetite, and for our single meal I managed to consume a whole chicken and six eggs. The extra free time available on account of our early halt I determined to employ in getting ready with my disguise. So far I had been travelling as an Englishman, and there was no valid reason why I should not continue as such until we reached the passes, still several days away, except that I was very anxious now not to excite too much attention when passing through villages. A European in this locality is such a rare phenomenon that his existence would certainly be marked. If I were seen going up in the direction of the passes, and then failed to come back, rumours would quickly spread that I had entered Tibet. This I was most anxious to avoid. On the other hand, I did not a FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 73 wish to disguise myself definitely as yet, as it needlessly increased the chances of detection ; for though I was entitled to go as far as the passes, had any of the village officials discovered me travelling as a Tibetan they would certainly have stopped me until full inquiries had been made. After some mental gymnastics I decided on a compromise. I would henceforth keep away from all villages and only send in the servants for supplies. I should dress in Sikkimese costume and stain my hair, so that, should I be seen from a little distance away, I would appear as a native and hence excite nocomment. On the other hand, I would not dye my face nor darken my eyes, and would admit to being English in case anyone were to insist on coming into our camp and ask awkward questions. This preliminary masquerade did not seem to excite the suspicions of my servants, strangely enough, probably because they had always considered me half mad when in Gyangtsé. I had then frequently gone so far as to wear Tibetan costume, and they only thought that I was up to my old trick of studying natives by “ going native.’’ Up to this time the servants had always expected me at any moment to turn back and carry out the journey to Pemayangtsé, but that same afternoon I informed them that, as we had gone so far, I intended to go on to Lachen and see the very famous meditative lama there, and after having a metaphysical discussion with him, return to Pemayangtsé by way of Gantok. My real intentions they never fathomed, as they all knew that the passes were supposed to be closed, and though they had doubts of my sanity, their slow wits could not conceive that I even would be mad enough to attempt to push through. After I had finished staining my hair, I noticed that “ Satan ”’ continued to lie in his drunken stupor right out in the blazing sun, so I had two of the other coolies pick him up and throw him into the tent, as otherwise he would probably have had sunstroke and thus have added to our troubles. I have never seen a man so oblivious of the world, so literally dead drunk. The next morning (January 16) we were able to continue our northerly journey. After another four or five miles of unusu- ally bad road, we came to the village of Drikchu, where the road from Gantok to the passes once more joins the banks of the 4 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Tista River. « For the time being our work of road-making was over, but we were once again on the Government highway and liable to be stopped. I was afraid that someone would hear that I was heading for the passes without having signed the guarantee, and was accordingly nervous. In accordance with my new plan I did not stop in Drikchu, but rushed on ahead, leaving the servants behind to buy provi- sions for the next few days. I had impressed upon them the necessity of saying nothing about me to the villagers, but merely to state, if asked, that we were a party going on pilyrim- age to Lachen. As I went on alone, another six or seven miles brought me to the curious, natural elevated plain of Akatang, where I decided we might camp for the night. So I waited for the servants to come up. The place was formerly the site of the village of Drikchu, but for certain political reasons the village has been moved several miles down the river. On the map, how- ever, the changed position is not noted. In several similar instances the Government of India maps of Sikkim are hope lessly incorrect. As regards this place, even after the village had been moved away, its former site continued to be frequented on account of certain natural hot springs to which are ascribed marvellous curative powers, but about two years previous to our visit a large landslide destroyed the springs. The people, being Sikkimese, never thought of digging them out again, and so the site is now completely deserted. This part of Sikkim is very sparsely inhabited, and is devoid of thriving villages such as one meets elsewhere. This is due to the absence of Nepalese and Indians, who are the foundation of Sikkim’s prosperity. When left to themselves the Sikkimese do not thrive, nor do they of their own accord develop the natural resources of their own country. The cause of the exclusion of Nepalese is curious. This part of Sikkim is domi- nated by the Pedang Monastery, the largest temple, after Pemayangtsé, in Sikkim. Its former abbot was a very power- ful person politically, being a past-master of intrigue. He inherited the Tibetan dislike of outsiders, and at the time, some forty-five years ago, when the Sikkimese Government, pressed by the English, was importing Nepalese as labourers, FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 75 he managed to secure a ruling that none of the new settlers were to be allowed to reside in that part of Sikkim which came under the influence of his own monastery. To his diplomatic success is due the economic failure of his province. The paucity of villages and the poverty of the few that we found along the line of march rendered it increasingly urgent to secure supplies without delay. Fortunately we were becoming expert in “ scrounging”’ from the country itself. The animals had for fodder the bamboo shoots which grew in abundance by the roadside, and the greens for the servants’ stew were supplied by three or four varieties of ferns which were always clogging our footsteps. In place of marwa beer or milk we had to be content with pure mountain-stream water. Eggs and fresh meat were scarce, but on this day we bought, from a party coming down from Lachen, some of the naturally- frozen meat of Tibet, which the Tibetan peasants eat raw (I was to become more than accustomed to it later), but which in Sikkim we cooked. I ate mine grilled, though it had always a nasty putrid flavour. The servants, as usual, chopped and boiled it along with the ferns. The natives of this part of the world have a prejudice against meat cooked in any way except by boiling. They believe that roasted or grilled meat impedes the breathing when climbing mountains. The same notion in regard to roasted meats obtains in Tibet, I found out later, the nomads in particular having a prejudice against meat cooked in any other way than boiling. The following day (January 17) only took us another ten miles along the road, and we camped between the two tiny hamlets of Singtam (called Singhik, for some reason, on the maps) and Tong. The semi-disguise turned out to be very successful, as we passed three or four persons on the road, and they did not turn around, as I expected, to stare, as they always do when a European appears. The road all the way was a gentle uphill incline, scarcely noticeable, but we were already 7,000 feet above sea-level and no longer felt the heat. In the best of weather we should have been cool, but to my dismay the spell of good weather was broken. It became cloudy and drizzly, and it was obvious that snow was falling on the mountain-tops. As we heard in Singtam that the snow already lay deep in the passes, my heart was in my boots. 76 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE The country hereabouts showed signs of gradual decay. We passed several deserted houses rapidly crumbling away. Unlike those of Tibet, where stone and sun-dried brick are employed, the Sikkimese houses are for the most part con- structed entirely from bamboo. Under the best of circum- stances they last for only eight or nine years, after which they have to be rebuilt. | On this particular day we had great difficulty in selecting a camping-ground, especially as I was anxious to keep well away from villages and out of sight, while at the same time in touch with the road. Eventually we decided on a leaf-filled grotto. The selection of this seemingly satisfactory den resulted in a very unpleasant experience. We woke up in the night to find our bodies covered with leeches which were already half gorged. In the summer leeches constitute one of the scourges of Sikkim, but in the winter, owing to the great night cold, they are seldom seen. These had been hibernating under the bed of leaves and had been reawakened into activity by the heat of our bodies. Unfortunately, they attach themselves to the skin without causing the slightest pain—the pain of an open wound which refuses to heal comes later—so that all of us were drained of a good deal of blood before sufficient sensation had been created to awaken us. My previous experience had taught me that to attempt to pull leeches off makes matters worse, so we resorted to the only expedient known, and applied wet salt to the loathsome creatures, whereupon they immediately dropped off. Even after this the pain of the sores and the fear of further invasion kept us awake nearly the whole night. There are several kinds of leeches found in Sikkim, which occur in all parts up to 10,000 feet altitude. In the higher elevations a voracious black species is common, smaller than the yellowish-brown creature which abounds lower down. Their activities are one of the worst nuisances travellers have to contend with: their appetites for blood of man or beast are insatiable, and they will attack in such numbers and gorge so much blood that serious loss of strength may result. In summer, travellers have noticed that, with an extraordinary instinct, these vile pests, on the approach of any living creature in their neighbourhood, will deliberately make for it from some distance. Ordinary clothing is no obstacle to them, for they eS FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 77 will suck right through trousers or thick stocking’. Watching them at work, one can see the blood they draw dilating their skins ; when full they drop off and roll up into balls. The sores which result from dealing carelessly with leeches which have attached themselves to the body are very obstinate, and unless given close attention may lead to blood-poisoning or other ills. Poor animals when attacked have little means of getting rid of the blood-suckers, and we had to be very careful about our mules and ponies. The next day (January 18) was to be a long march, and so, for a change, we had something to eat with our tea before we started. At sunrisé we saw the beautiful sight of snow falling _on the top of the Kanchendzonga range. This mountain is such an important part of the western horizon of so many parts of Sikkim that there is little wonder it is regarded as the guardian spirit of the country. The road was good and interesting, but already we began to see something of the treeless mountains which characterize Tibet. Insomecases trees have been planted along the road- side by the Sikkimese Government. We found later that the timber-line on the north, or Tibetan side, of the mountains was much lower than on the south. On the approach through Sikkim there was quite a lot of timber at 14,000 feet elevation, which gradually changed from deciduous to evergreens, the trees between this height and 16,000 feet growing scantier and more stunted till they disappeared entirely. On the other side of the passes we had to descend much lower before we met any very definite signs of vegetation, and what there was seemed half-hearted in growth. Half-way along the line of our day’s march we crossed again to the left-hand side of the river by a tiny but quite respectable suspension bridge. A little farther along we could see an old Sikkim-fashion bridge. Such a bridge consists of only three long bamboo poles, one for a footing, and two higher in the air for handrails. It requires a tight-rope walker to cross one with any ease, and, of course, it is quite useless for animals. I was more than ever struck by the absence of the industrious Nepalese, and the few people we did meet were for the most part Lepchas and not Sikkimese. In the afternoon we camped in a charming little dell, invisible from the road, about a mile 78 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE from the well-known village of Tséntang (called Cheuntang on the maps), tg the dismay of Lhaten, who yearned for the marwa beer procurable only in the villages. He could not understand my aversion from staying in an inhabited spot. We fell to arguing on the subject, and while we were still forcibly discussing the point, we heard a mystifying noise in the surrounding bushes. Thoughts of spies and secret agents were chasing through my head, when to our astonishment a cow appeared in our camp circle, stood for an instant breathing heavily, and then fell dead. She was frothing horribly at the mouth, and further investigation showed that she had all the other symptoms of the last stages of the dréad foot-and-mouth disease. Evidently she had been left behind by some herds- man owing to her illness, and on hearing our voices, she had come in a last spasm hoping to receive human assistance—a pathetic reminder of man’s dominance over brute creation. The servants were anxious to eat the corpse, but this I forbade, so we spent some time in carting our would- be friend away from our night’s abode. CHAPTER VIII TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 2 WE started very early next morning (January 19) as I was anxious to pass through the village and Government outpost of Tséntang before it was really light. I knew that a register was kept of all persons who passed through, and I was anxious to avoid having to sign this. To escape attention was rather a difficult task, as the road lay right through the village. I had everything well muffled up and prayed to all the gods of Hindustan that “ Paris ’’ would not begin kicking and generally “ showing off’ at the wrong moment. All went well, however, and we got through without being challenged, though I heard later that after it was known that I had managed to enter Tibet, the local police officers were brought down to Gantok, court-martialled, and ignominiously dismissed from the service, owing to their failure to stop me. Immediately before coming to the village, we passed over the river again at a place very famous historically. Just under the bridge the waters of the river churn and boil in a series of rapids. Until a short time ago, prisoners were thrown over the bridge to perish in the turmoil below, and the peasants claim to hear still, in the moaning of the waters, the shrieks of the drowning men. Although politically Sikkim at present extends several miles north of Tsontang, in every other way this village marks the _boundary-line. North of it, for the next fifty miles, lies what is known as the pass country, consisting of gigantic mountains with a few narrow valleys forming passes leading to Tibet. It is, in fact, a transition land between Tibet and Sikkim, with a geography akin to neither. Its inhabitants also form a people 79 80 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE apart, differ.ng both from the Tibetans to the north and the Sikkimese to the south. They are known as La-pa, or men of the passes, speaking their own dialect and observing their own customs. For the most part they are herdsmen living from the produce of their herds of cattle and yaks—the latter an animal unknown in Sikkim proper. In common with the Tibetans, they prefer barley to rice. Neither rice nor barley will grow here, but the people find it easier to import barley from Tibet than rice from Sikkim. At Tséntang the Tista River breaks up into branches, On the right it becomes the Lachung, or the River of the Little Pass, and on the left it becomes the Lacherf, or the River of the Great Pass. These two river valleys constitute the habitable portion of the pass country, but as lofty mountains permanently separate the two systems, the people of the two valleys, though both La-pas, differ considerably one from another. Each valley possesses but one village of importance, called respectively Lachung and Lachen. It suited my purpose much better to follow up the Lachen Valley, and so we turned to the left and continued our march until late in the afternoon, steadily rising all the time. For the most part the valley was very narrow, and once a single wooden gate barred the way. This was erected to prevent the Lachen Valley cattle wandering down into Sikkim—the only fence needed to wall in a district more than fifty miles long. Soon we began to get a foretaste of conditions we might expect in the pass country. Patches of ice and snow crossed our path and made progress more difficult. In places the road itself was encrusted for long distances with frozen snow a foot deep—a very slippery footing; so we had to dismount and walk. Beautiful scenery abounded. Every twist in the valley brought a new surprise, but the road was tiring, and we were glad to camp at last about half a mile before the village of Lachen, where we had to spread our tent on the snow. Though the rest was very necessary, I was very anxious to push on, as the weather was more than ever threatening. Though the passes might be impassable even now, they would certainly be so after another storm, and the next morning TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 8 (January 20) I was much annoyed to find it was impossible to make any move that day. The animals were exhausted and needed a day’s respite. Our boxes were broken and needed to be repaired. Our provisions were completely exhausted, and it would be days before we could reach another village, that which lay on the other side of the passes, in Tibet, so it became necessary to lay in a supply of food at Lachen, and all this work would require time. It was all very exasperating, and further, “II. iy? ‘3; We YY aT) x We \- pH 3 ranphoaney Mj 4 227004, a BE: 2 235 ( sz CN 2 AR QS. % yehumulhari® INS 930 ee ene ee Boundaries ° ; Routes through Rees Son ; SIKKIM to TIBET Outward & Return route of Mission eeeeeece ING. a rm, Dr. MS Govern's route to LHASA f } , ret crag te) 15 20 THE ROUTE THROUGH SIKKIM UP INTO THE PASS COUNTRY it now became necessary for me to inform the servants of my intention to go on to the pass itself. They were still under the impression that Lachen was my destination, and a talk with the old lama my goal. I dared not mention anything about Lhasa as yet, but determined to inform them that I wanted to go as far as Kampa Dzong, just inside of Tibet. When I called them round and explained my desire, they were horrorstruck at the idea of pushing on, and kept repeating that the passes were completely blocked. I insisted that we go on for a bit, and then turn back if necessary. The servants looked on the F 82 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE prospect in anone too friendly way, but eventually, after some persuasion, consented to go forward, though they tried to insist that I make a substantial money-offering to the Lachen lama and solicit his indulgence to keep back the snow. All the natives of this part of the world firmly believe that a life of ascetic contemplation ,brings with it magical powers, including the ability to control the elements. The Lachen lama is particularly famous all over Sikkim for his regulation of rain and snow. Even villages in the south, dominated by other temples, send petitions to him with huge gifts, asking that rain be stopped or made to fall, as is desirable. When they brought forth their stipulati6h, which did not at all accord with my desires, I told the servants that in a case like this I was keen on getting value for my money. If I was to pay the money, I wished to be certain that no snow would fall, and as no guarantee would be forthcoming, this could only be assured by paying the lama afterwards, when we saw what the weather turned out to be as the result of his devotions. With this they had to be content. The early afternoon was destined to give us another fright. The animals had been left to graze at will on the patches of earth still free from snow. We later discovered them lathering at the mouth like our friend the cow of the previous day. It seems that they had been eating a poisonous weed which grows in the pass country, and which constitutes the bane of the native herdsmen. The herb is known as duk-shing, and is more prevalent in some valleys than others and is deadly to yaks and sheep. Such places where it is more common the herdsmen generally avoid. My servants assured me cheer- fully that, unless something was done quickly, the effect on our pack-animals would be fatal, but suggested that I give the beasts my little hoard of sugar, as it was supposed to act as an antidote. Very sadly I handed over the sugar-bag, for though I was sceptical of its curative powers, I could not afford to run any risks. At least the creatures did not grow any worse as the result of this novel medicine, and when they did later drop off one by one, it was as a result chiefly of exhaustion. I then sent the servants into Lachen to buy supplies, but impressed upon them the necessity for keeping absolute silence in regard to me and my movements. Had they followed out TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 83 my orders the course of subsequent events would have been very different, but on their return I found, first that no»sugar could be found in Lachen, which meant months of discomfort for one with a “ sweet tooth,” as the Tibetans eat no sugar in any form, and it would be impossible to buy any in Tibet; and - second (and more important), that “Satan”? had met an old bosom friend from Pemayangtsé, to whom, under the seal of secrecy, he had confided who I was, and the fact that we were bound for the Tibetan passes. I became livid with fury at hearing this; I knew enough about the Oriental manner of keeping secrets to be convinced that in no time the matter would become public property, that all my precautions for secrecy in Sikkim had been in vain, and that in a few weeks’ time, at the outside, the news of my stay in Lachen would leak down to Gantok, the capital of Sikkim, where there are numerous agents of the Tibetan Government, who would doubtless communicate to Lhasa the news of my suspicious movements. I was so upset at the news that I refused to eat anything, and had a twenty-four hours’ fast—a “tantrum” habit inherited from nursery days. Furthermore, I ordered a start to be made very early the next morning before people were about, lest the news should have already leaked out and a local official arrive at our camp and order us to remain there pending inquiry. It was, in all ways, a disagreeable day, but-it had enabled us to put our things in order and prepare ourselves for possible calamities later on, a fact which was destined, as events turned out, to save our lives. To make things even more dismal, the next morning (Jan. 21) saw the beginning of a wretched, misty day, with every now and then a few flakes of snow. It was obvious that a snow- storm was impending, and my one hope was that we should be over the pass before it came on. Once on the tableland of Tibet, I cared not a straw for snow, but that promised land lay beyond the mountains which loomed threateningly before us. The mules had recovered from the poison-herb troubles of the previous day, but the ponies still seemed to be very shaky, so we had to walk the whole day in the desire to give them a further recuperative period. 84 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE On the way we had to plough a path through a good deal of snowdrift, so that our progress was very slow, but by early afternoon we were some twelve miles above Lachen, and had risen to a height of 12,000 feet above sea-level. This, I have learned by experience, is the critical height. It is very seldom that a healthy person gets mountain-sickness under that height, but once that level is reached he may begin to suffer, and further ascent may prove dangerous. If, on the other hand, having risen so far he experiences no pain, he need have no fear of going on to 20,000 feet. He is, in fact, practically immune. I was therefore interested to note that*it was just at this point that ‘‘ Satan ’”’ began to complain of racking headache and ringing in the ears. But he was the only one to suffer, and after I had given him a few cloves to chew he began to feel better. The others and myself felt nothing more than the exertion of the climb. Another two miles brought us past Tangu, the last village in Sikkim, and even this is a village in name rather than in fact. There are a few La-pa huts inhabited only in summer; in winter it contains only two petty officials who serve as outpost guardians, and as keepers of the Government rest-houses. By departing from the road I managed to get my little caravan past this point unobserved, and heaved a sigh of relief, think- ing my troubles were over—but we were not yet out of the woods. Still another two miles brought us to a point, where, for a quarter of a mile, the road and the whole hillside was a smooth sheet of ice, upon which, at first, we found it impossible to walk. The animals had even more trouble, and slithered all over the place. Our loads suffered serious damage in the frequent falls. To add to the confusion, the servants lost their heads completely and began shrieking contradictory orders to one another. Two of them, ‘‘Satan’”’ and ‘“‘ Diogenes,’’ improved matters by weeping. I had to take a strong hand in matters myself before some sort of order was restored, and we then began to throw gravel on the glacial surface and cut out occasional steps in the ice with our knives, the same knives we had used in the jungle a few days previously. By these methods we got our caravan across, but TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 85 this one job had taken an hour, and we were all ‘so exhausted that we had to camp almost immediately afterwards. In the meantime “ Gyangtsé,”’ Lhaten’s pony, a time-worn nag, showed signs of succumbing. He leaned in a very disso- lute fashion against a tree (there were still a few trees about) and refused to eat or drink. Under such circumstances the Sikkimese always resort to some new concoction, and so we brewed strong tea and added to it a half-bottle of raw spirit which Lhaten had purchased in Lachen. The major portion of this we managed to pour down the poor pony’s throat, though not without a struggle, for he marshalled all his waning strength in an attefhpt to hunger-strike, for evidently he had strong convictions on the question of forcible feeding. In the end he managed to break our one and only bottle with which we had been feeding him. Temporarily he revived, but I felt that sooner or later we should no longer have the pleasure of his company. By this time we were so fatigued that we no longer had strength or energy enough to put our camp in order. Rather than have the trouble of hoisting the tent, I decided to sleep in the open. The servants picked a spot under a tree, one of the sparse sentinels of the timber-line, while I preferred to be without such protection. Our bags and boxes, moreover, were left scattered about, but we were quite satisfied with our day’s efforts and too tired to worry about orderliness. Despite the weather conditions, we soon fell asleep when we lay ourselves down on the ground. It is not difficult to imagine the horror which I felt a couple of hours later when I woke from a doze to find that snow was beginning to fall. Obviously there was nothing to be done, and I could only hope that this was merely the result of a passing cloud and not the beginning of a serious snowstorm. I was soon undeceived. The snow began to settle over me inch by inch. In a way it was a delicious feeling, because it had been bitterly cold and the new snow acted as a gradually-thickening blanket. Consequently I felt not the slightest inclination to get up and seek protection under the tree. Only, in order to keep a supply of air, I occasionally thrust a tiny hole through the snow above me with my riding-crop. The snow fell continuously, but the servants, somewhat under cover, 86 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE remained asibep the whole night through, but early the next morning (January 22) when they awoke and perceived the snow for the first time, they began to yell with dismay, thinking them- selves for ever lost. Their scare was doubled when they failed to see me, for by this time I was quite hidden from sight by more than three feet of snow, and there was no sign to show where I lay. The servants thought, of course, that I had been smothered to death. I let them howl for a while without moving, for I dreaded to leave the protection of my warm natural blanket, but eventually I sat up, the top of myshead just appearing above the snow. This seemed to them to savour of the miraculous, and something of their ffight abated, and for a while I was something of a tin-god to them. We were able to discuss seriously what next was to be adie and rather glad we were still to be alive. It would have been death to push on for the moment. The snow was falling faster and faster, and it was certain to lie much deeper higher up in the mountain gullies. There was no hut or village this side of the pass in which we could take refuge. To stay on where we were was equally out of the question. In fact, the delay of another hour appeared dangerous. It was difficult to get back even now, and with more snow to contend with it would be quite impossible. Being unable either to go forward or to go back, we should perish miserably in our present position ! It was therefore our obvious duty to fight our way back immediately, but owing to the increasing difficulty caused by the snow, it was inconceivable that we could get to Lachen in one day. The servants thought that we would be lucky to get back to Tangu, where we could throw ourselves on the mercies of the two officials there. Tangu was, however, absolutely taboo, as I knew that once we stopped there our chances of getting to Lhasa would be gone for ever. But I remembered that between Tangu and Lachen there were one or two groups of cattle-sheds, or huts, used by the herdsmen only in the summer when their cattle were brought up thus far to graze. These huts were deserted now, of course, but we could probably break into one of them and find there some kind of shelter in which we could await further developments, TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 87 The nearest such shelter lay six miles back, and’I gave orders to make for it immediately. It was hard work to make headway through three feet or more of freshly-fallen snow, particularly as the path had been completely obliterated. It took us all day to cover the six miles, but the sense of danger and the urgent need of finding shelter made us oblivious to the feeling of fatigue, though I had a little difficulty in getting the servants past Tangu. The snow was falling so heavily that we could scarcely see a yard in front of us. Consequently there was no longer need for concealment when we passed that outpost. In the afternoon,curiously enough, ‘‘ Satan ”’ began to suffer from snow-blindness. It is well known that freshly-fallen snow is much more irritating to the eyes than snow which has lain for some time, but it is rare to find snow-blindness coming on during a snowstorm. It is usually only the reflection of the sun’s rays on the eye that brings about injury to the eyesight, and the sun was then completely invisible. “‘ Satan’ had, foolishly enough, forgotten to bring his dark glasses, and I was forced to lend him mine, and contented myself with pulling my fur cap down over my eyes. In other ways, also, I was feeling far from well, and in fact was experiencing the first symptoms of that illness which was later to develop into dysentery. The result of eating Tibetan meat was already beginning to be felt. We were all, therefore, delighted when we got to our destination late in the afternoon. | The door of the first hut we tried yielded to a push, and we found ourselves inside its one and only room. The hut was built on American log-cabin lines, except that there was a great - smoke-hole in the roof. There were huge chinks between the logs of the walls, and these let in a good deal of snow, and the wind played in and out as it listed. Our abode was far from ideal, as can be imagined, but we were more than satisfied, particularly as we found inside two or three pieces of dry wood which could be used to kindle a fire. But while unloading the animals I was annoyed to discover that in their morning’s fright the servants had been unable to find several of the smaller packages which we had foolishly left scattered about the preceding night, and which, of course, had been covered by the snow | | 88 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE The next ‘morning (January 23) we held a council of war. Though the weather had improved, a little snow was still falling and it was impossible for us to attempt to get to the passes. I was anxious to stay where we were. But the horses were without fodder, and there was still danger that we might be snowbound for an indefinite period, during which time the chances were that the animals, and possibly we ourselves, would die from starvation. The servants were clamorous to retire, and at last I agreed to do so, though secretly I determined to put as many brakes on our backward journey as possible. I still had faint hopes, which I dared not express, that once the snow stopped we might be abk to force our way through to Tibet. The rearward march proved terribly exhausting. By the time we were on the way the snow was breast-high, and each of us had to take it in turn to act as a plough to make a furrow through the snow in which the animals might follow, for they were helpless otherwise. Fortunately all of them, even the invalid pony, seemed to be in fairly good condition to-day. When after three miles we came to another group of deserted huts, we were, as my diary has it, “‘ almost dead from fatigue,” so that I had little difficulty in persuading the servants to go no farther for the day. It was a wearying business. With every step on this retreat my hopes drooped a little lower, and I think | only a natural obstinacy held me up under this dispiriting reverse. The night’s repose stiffened me in my purpose, and next day (January 24) our march had only covered a little over a mile when I purposely went on strike and refused to travel another inch farther. For here we found another couple of huts, and I remembered that there were no more until we got to Lachen, still some six or seven miles farther back. I knew that we must avoid returning to Lachen at all costs. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brilliantly and the snow was already beginning to melt. Moreover, a curious bend in the valley had sheltered a little patch on the hillside where it was almost free from snow. Here the animals could get a few mouthfuls of coarse winter grass. This solved the fodder question temporarily. Our own food-store was running dangerously low, but we had enough to last us a few days longer, so I decided to form a little winter-camp and wait for a TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 89 new opportunity to push on to the pass. Under ordinary circumstances I should have returned to Sikkim,and waited another two months before renewing our attempt to enter Tibet, but I was convinced it was now or never, and preferred to hang on desperately. From the afternoon of the 24th to the afternoon of the 26th we stayed in our little camp on the spot. Personally I enjoyed this short time of rest, but I was careful to arrange little jobs for the servants, for their morale would have been completely destroyed in a few hours’ idle brooding. Fortunately we were entertained in a very unexpected fashion. A huge cat began to prowl round ourvhut and disturb us by its noises. It was in looks and manner much more like a wild-cat than one of a domestic breed. It had started its life probably as a kitten in some herdsman’s house, and then, being deserted, had “‘ reverted to type.’”’ The deep snow had destroyed his food-supply, so sniffing our presence he had decided to blackmail us into giving him free board and lodging. We did, indeed, bestow a small piece of meat, but when we ourselves were so near starvation, it was impossible to be over- generous. He waxed angry at our miserliness, and began a vigorous physical attack on our larder, and later on us, which we had to repulse with our riding-crops. After a fierce battle lasting for half an hour the cat retired—though not until we bore marks of the fray in the way of scratches so serious that they required first-aid attention. During the remainder of our stay the cat continued on in the neighbourhood and gave a full solo rendering of what he thought of us. On the 26th I decided to go forward again. The snow had been melting steadily in our part of the valley. Ina very high altitude such as this, where the air is rarefied, the sun’s rays during the daytime have an overpowering effect, however cold the nights may be, and under these scorching rays the snow had begun to shrink and, though still deep, I thought we had a chance to get through. The food question was becoming so pressing that no further delay was to be brooked. A move had to be made one way or the other, but we only got off in the afternoon, as I had to spend the whole morning coaxing and persuading the servants into accompanying me, sometimes even bullying them. It frequently happened that bullying was 90 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE the best policy with these men, for they took coaxing as a sign of weakness and became awkward and obstinate. Owing to the late start, we were able to cover only four miles. This brought us to the hut in which we had first taken refuge after the commencement of the snowstorm. Soon after arriving we saw a snow-leopard prowling about, and this so frightened the animals that ‘‘ Diogenes ”’ had to sleep outside with them to act as guard. It is extraordinary how these animals can walk over the snow without sinking intoit. The natives explain this peculiarity by giving the snow-leopards supernatural powers. The next day (January 27) was, to quotemy diary, ‘‘ the most awful day I have ever spent.’”’ The memory of the miseries we had to endure remains very keen. Owing to the more protected’ nature of this part of the valley, we found that the snow had hardly melted at all, and for a great part of the way it lay between four and five feet deep. The farther we went the deeper we sank. Soon after this the valley began to narrow down to a gorge which was literally choked with snow. For me the desperate ploughing through the snow was absolute misery. My illness had been growing worse these last two days, and had sapped me of all strength. I was afraid to show my weakness before the servants, and so sent on my caravan ahead while I staggered along after it. Every fifty yards or so I would get quite confused in the snow and fall. Where I fell I was forced to lie and rest for a minute or two before I could summon my energies to struggle up and press on. Fear overtook me that I was being left miles behind, but afterwards I found that the servants were faring nearly as badly. Blundering on in my anxiety, I caught up with the party at sunset and we ploughed on for another two hours, not in the least knowing where we were, for the road lay deep-buried in snow and we had only the general contour of the valley by which to go. The vagueness of our position and direction demoralized the whole caravan, and the animals seemed to be as much in a maze as the men. Frequently we thought that we were on safe ground, when suddenly the man ahead would disappear from sight down some gully or water-hole rendered invisible by the snow. We had TRAPPED IN THE PASSES or used up all our spirits in a vain attempt to secure extra stimula- tion, but by half-past eight we were still far from oyr objective, the plateau of Sitang. Our day’s march had been only some eight or nine miles, but it had taken us over fourteen hours to cover even this distance. We were lost. Our strength was failing and our hearts were in our boots. Where the roadway might be we had not the faintest idea, and we were wallowing in a long snowdrift. It was pitch-dark although the moon should have been visible. Suddenly, while we were in this statey it began to snow again. I was long past all feeling by now, but Lhaten broke down and wept. Later his weeping changed into hysterical sobbing which could not be stopped. The others were bordering on the same state. It was absolutely impossible to go any farther that night, so I looked about for shelter. We had long passed the region of houses or huts, but what was even more serious, I could see no place where we could possibly erect a tent. Hunting around, we espied among the great rocks overhanging the river one with a flat top from which most of the snow had been driven by the wind, and it was upon this that we decided to hoist our tent, for under such conditions to have slept in the open would have meant certain death. In our exhausted condition the work of hoisting the tent required an effort of will. Snow and wind beat against us and nearly caused a catastrophe even before we had erected the canvas, which we had to hold down by placing boxes on its sides and ends, for of course the rock was impervious to tent- pegs. Into this small tent all five of us had to squeeze, although it was meant for only one person, or at the most for two. For the animals a hole was burrowed in the snow by the side of the rock. There was nothing else we could do for them, but we were afraid that they would be frozen to death during the night. I deemed it fortunate for our food-supply that we were too tired to feel hungry, and were content with a small piece of meat apiece. This we had to eat raw in true Tibetan fashion, for we had no means of lighting a fire. An hour later the wind dropped, but the short comparative calm was succeeded by one of the terrific windstorms which are known only in Tibet and in the passes. In a very short time the tent had been blown in on us, and we lay huddled together 92 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE in one tightsheap, with the canvas beating on our heads. Still the gale increased, and at last one terrific blast carried our whole huddled mass off the rock and into the snow beyond, where we all landed badly frightened but unhurt. “ Satan” now suddenly remembered that he had been brought up a priest, and began a long invocation to all the Tibetan saints, being particu- larly vociferous in his appeal to the polygamous, wine-bibbing Padma Sambhava, dead these thousand years and more. He confessed, among other things, how foolish he had been to come with me, and asked pardon therefor. . The wind eventually died down about three in the morning, and until then sleep was impossible. “Satan” kept up his lugubrious prayers till, with the decline of the storm, immediate annihilation seemed averted, then he fell into a doze like the rest of the worn-out and apprehensive party. When I woke again a few hours later (January 28) I found the servants were already packing up. They were firmly minded to dash back to Sikkim. They took it for granted that even I could not possibly want to go on. And I must confess that they were very nearly right. All my fine hopes had evapo- rated, and had I been asked for my vote on the subject it would have been cast in favour of return. But this cool assumption that I had abandoned the enterprise was too much for me. Fearing that argument would be useless, I rushed for the food- bag, already nearly empty, and holding it over the great river ravine, I swore that if they went back I would throw their food away, which meant that they would starve before they could arrive once more at the inhabited part of Sikkim. I then pointed out that they were more than half-way through the © snow, and that to turn back would be as difficult as to go on. Letting this argument sink in, I rushed on as fast as I could, leaving them to follow. The strategy had effect ; they came sheepishly after me. When I say I rushed on, it must not be imagined it was with any great speed, for the snow was deeper and more clogging and troublesome than ever. We had a very curious bit of luck that morning. Our friend the snow-leopard had passed us in the night and seemed to be heading for the pass, for we could see his footprints in the snow. There seemed to be a striking regularity about his path, and it occurred to me that he might be travelling over the line of the Bn tm —— TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 93 road. Investigation proved that this idea was ¢orrect. By following in his footsteps we saved ourselves a good deal of road-seeking. It was amazing to me how the leopard knew the road, buried as it was beneath several feet of snow, and, of course, level with the wide white expanse on every side. I could only suppose that it was by means of a sense of smell, effective through the deep snow, though why he should have kept to the road with all its zig-zags, when he could easily have made cross-cuts impossible for us, was a mystery which I did not attempt to solve. The servants looked upon the footprints as a very auspicious omen, or even as a iniraculous intervention on the part of the blessed Buddhas and Bodhisattvas—a notion that I was careful not to contradict. About four hours later we had an even greater stroke of fortune. The valley continued to narrow more and more. The mountains on either side closed down to form precipitous cliffs, and it seemed as if we were crawling through a funnel. When the snow was at its deepest and further progress seemed impossible, the valley suddenly twisted and once more widened out, and we came into an entirely different type of country. It seemed as if some ghostly wizard had waved.his magic wand and a mysterious transformation had taken place. Not a tree, bush, nor scrub was visible. There were only three or four inches of snow on the ground, and here and there were great patches of bare earth, earth of that sandy and desolate kind peculiar to the Tibetan plateau. A few miles farther on and the valley swept to the right and became a broad plain running in an east to west direction, bounded on the north and south by overshadowing mountain ranges. Technically we were still in Sikkim: the northern range of mountains marked the political boundary-line. But geographically and geologically we were already in Tibet. The scarcity of the snow was an evidence of this. The Indian side of the Himalayas is deluged by rain in the summer and by snow in the winter. The rain- and the snow-bearing clouds wafted from the ocean do not rise high enough to cross the Himalayan heights against which they break and precipitate their contents, so that on the Tibetan side there is a notable absence of mois- ture. In summer the rain is scanty, in some parts almost 04 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE unknown. ‘Mn winter, except on the mountain peaks, the snow seldom lies more than a few inches deep, and this is soon melted by the terrific rays of the midday sun, which are so powerful that there is always danger of sunstroke in exposed places if one is careless. On the other hand, the night cold is intense, far greater than anything known on the south side of the Himalayas, and the terrible Tibetan winds bite through the skin into the very bones. In these conditions death and desolation reign. There is no country which appears so bleak and dreary as the lifeless plains of Tibet. Even the Tista River, as we neared its source, seemed devoid of life, for here it was but one sheet of rigid ice. In greatly-improved spirits we continued our way until evening, and eventually camped just under the Chumiomo Glacier. Here the ground was frozen so hard that we broke > several wooden tent-pegs trying to drive them into the soil, and finally we had to discard these and use only giant iron nails. Even these were badly bent by the frost-bound ground. The next day (January 29) I had hoped to be over the actual pass but, owing to the gross inaccuracy of the existing maps, we missed our way and went eight miles out of our course. The result was that evening found us still in the upper Tista Valley. By this time I had discovered our mistake, but it was too late to retrace our steps that day. This event was to us a great calamity, for we had completély exhausted our food-stock and were wellnigh starving. All the animals, too, had reached the danger-mark of fatigue. The previous two nights in the open had, in fact, proved too much for the ailing pony “ Gyangtsé.’’ His lungs had caught a chill, and I saw that at the best he could only last two or three days longer. In these circumstances I decided to end, by one stroke, both his miseries and ours. All my servants had very strict Buddhist religious scruples, however scampish they might be in their private life, and refused to kill any living thing, though they were quite willing to eat any animal killed by someone else. Consequently I had to do the necessary work myself. With my huge knife I slit the poor beast’s throat. We waited a few minutes, and then, being unable to restrain our hunger longer, we sliced off the choicer portions of his carcase and set to work 4 TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 95 to devour the still warm meat. Fuel being mor than ever unprocurable, we were forced to eat this raw. To,a gourmet the raw and still-quivering flesh of a horse may not appear appetising, but I had long lost all sense of squeamishness ; and all of us sat down to the meal with relish. Regarding the inci- dent from a place of moderate comfort the whole thing may seem revolting, but it was the wisest thing we could do, in fact the only thing to do to save our lives and end quickly the poor pony’s miseries, which could not be mitigated. d CHAPTER IX “VICTORY TO THE GODS!” For eight weary miles we retraced our steps the next morning (January 30). In this part of the valley the road had long since disappeared, but after scouting around in several directions, I eventually managed to light on the proper course. This proved to be along an narrow side-alley stretching for several miles which climbed up almost due north. This soon became a difficult ascent, for not only were we forced to walk, but the weakened state of the remaining animals necessitated our carrying on our own shoulders a good deal of their loads. We trudged stolidly up till we were at an altitude of 17,000 feet. During this climbing we were often compelled to halt and rest, for at such an altitude any form of exertion brings on a torturing fatigue, and this steady climb seemed to tear the very lungs out of us. The next 1,000-feet rise was torture, and it was not until sunset that we reached the path of the pass some 18,000 feet above sea- level, and could shout with joy, “ Lha-gyal-lo! Lha-gyal-lo!”’ (lit. ‘‘ Victory! Victory to the gods! ’’). We turned back to catch our last glimpse of India. For miles and miles on either side of us we could see the Himalayan peaks soaring up to meet and penetrate a huge blanket of cloud and mist. It seemed as if a shroud of fear and despondency lay over the high places of the world. For me, with the long and dangerous journey through the Forbidden Land still ahead, it seemed like a message of doom. We had exhausted all our energies in our battle with the snow and starvation in the passes, and now that we had come through it was as if we were not at the end, but at the very beginning, of our difficulties. We had still the great winds and the biting 96 “VICTORY TO THE GODS?!” 97 cold of the bleak Tibetan plains to contend witi—no small matter if that were our only obstacle—but, in addition, from now onward we had not Nature alone, but man also, to encounter. We were now in the Forbidden Land itself, and every step that took us nearer to the Sacred City brought with it greater danger of detection, for the watch against foreign intrusion, which is sometimes slack on the outer and more sparsely-inhabited parts, becomes the stricter the nearer the capital is approached. Knowing all the difficulties which lay in ous way, it seemed to me impossible ever to reach our goal, and supposing by some miracle we attained our objective and reached Lhasa, we should still be faced with our greatest danger —.an attack on the part of the fanatical monks of the great central monasteries. Asa result of their threats, not only had we been forbidden to come to Lhasa, but had not even been permitted to remain in Gyangtsé. When they should discover that in spite of their threats I had come to the capital, there was no telling to what lengths their fury might lead them. In spite of these despondent broodings, there was nothing to do but to push on with the undertaking. We had not only crossed the Rubicon, we had also burned our bridges behind us, for the prospect of having to return through the passes was even more terrible than to goon. There was nothing to do but to steel myself against anything that might occur. That night, however, nothing more could be done. The animals refused to go any farther. We ourselves were at the end of our tether, so we were forced to camp on the broad, even- surfaced summit of the pass, a formation which is peculiar, so far as is known, to this pass. The natives believe it to be inhabited by dark and terrible demons who bring disaster upon everyone who stops there. But in the present instance there was no choice, and we set about looking for a camping-place. An almost ideal spot was found in a tiny ravine hollowed out by a stream which forms in summer from the melting of the winter snows of the pass and the neighbouring Chumiomo Peak. Soon we were tucked away inside our tent. It was perishing cold, but I feared more for the less-protected animals than for our- selves, so I commanded the servants to take some of our own blankets and tie them around the beasts, for we at least could obtain a precarious warmth by snuggling close to one another, G 98 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE and I had a reat dread of losing our principal means of trans- port. “ For food we had nothing but the hunks of horse-meat which we had brought with us, but we were fortunate enough to find a small quantity of yak- and mule-dung—the aftermath of the small native caravans which in summer go over the passes—and we could make a pretence of cooking our flesh and, what was more, were able to prepare some tea, the best of stimulants. We were all of us, however, possessed of a weird and eerie feeling, and soon the servants began to recite tales of the hill- demons, and then equally fantastic stories of the wild men who are supposed to live in the mountains. «I had already heard brief mention of these, and listened with curiosity to what my men had to say on the subject. In nearly all parts of Tibet one finds tradition of the existence of a primitive race of men—former inhabitants of the land who have been driven out of the plains by the Tibetans and who now dwell only in the passes and on inaccessible mountain crags. My own servants referred to them as snowmen. They are said to be great, hairy creatures, huge in size and possessed of incredible physical strength. Although having a certain low cunning, they are deficient in intelligence, and it is only the intellectual superiority of the Tibetans that has enabled them to oust the primitive snowmen from the plains. These men of the mountains brood upon their wrongs and wreak their vengeance upon any casual herdsmen who may be found stray- ing in their domain. So runs the legend, and many attempts have been made to ascertain what facts may have given rise to it, for it has been permitted to no white man to meet these snowmen, and even a Tibetan, when pinned down to it, will admit that he has never seen one, but that he has “‘ heard of a man who has ’’—sometimes it comes to as near as a cousin, or at least a cousin by marriage, who has been pursued by the snowmen and just escaped with his life. After all, they will observe, do not every year a number of herdsmen away in the mountains fail to return to their native villages ?—sure proof, they will add, that they have been devoured by the wild men ! Rockhill, who came across this tradition in the extreme eastern part of Tibet, suggests, in his Land of the Lamas, that the wild men may be nothing other than bears. For other A g “VICTORY TO THE GODS!”,, 99 parts of Tibet this explanation could scarcely be“valid, for in many areas—as, for example, in Kampa Dzong’, Pari, and district—bears are unknown. Others have suggested that they may be some form of ape. Only one thing can be said in favour of this theory: the many tales told about the imitative habits of the monkey family bearing a striking resemblance to some of the native fable, related by the Tibetan peasantry with regard to the snowmen. As examples I might quote two anecdotes, crude in the extreme, as told me by my servants that evening. Lhaten related how a friend of his escaped from the wild men owing to his acuteness. He was chased by one of these monsters, and noticed that when he stopped for a second to look back the mountain-man also stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. This went on for some time, the savages however, gradually drawing nearer. Eventually the Tibetan threw himself down and pretended to go to sleep, whereupon the pursuer again followed his example and indeed did fall asleep, so that the poor peasant, taking advantage of this fact, could make his escape. “Satan,’’ not to be outdone in the story-telling business, now chimed in and related an even more thrilling event, which was supposed to have occurred in Lachen, where occasional tins of petroleum are imported to furnish lights for the Lapas during their long nights. A certain peasant discovered, one afternoon, that a wild man had entered his hut, at the door of which stood an open tin of oil. The peasant picked up a small tub of water in order to throw it at his adversary, but noticing that the wild man imitated his action by picking up the tin of oil, the man poured the water over himself and was delighted to find that the savage, in imitation, emptied the petroleum over his own body. The man then seized a blazing stick on the open fire, and upon the savage doing the same, the petro- leum caught fire and the wild man was burnt to death. As an anthropologist I had been interested in the wild man discussion, but I soon found out that the information acquired belonged by right more to the folk-lorist than to the serious scientist, and I proceeded to divert the conversation into other channels—viz. our plans for the immediate future. At this point I revealed the whole of my plans to my men. { 100 _ TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Up to that time they knew merely of my desire to reach Tibet. I now made bold to tell them that my goal was not only Tibet, but Lhasa itself, and that to succeed in getting there I should be forced to go in disguise. There was an outcry at this revelation. They besought me to get the mad idea out of my head and renounce the project. But I persisted, and by cajolery and promise of reward obtained their acquiesence. To each of them I assigned his new rdéle, had insisted then and there upon a careful rehearsal of it. From the baggage I got out a gala costume, such as is worn by Sikkimese nobility, and gave it to “Satan” to try on. Hereafter he was to be the master, posing as a small landed proprietér going on pilgrimage to Lhasa, taking the rest of us along in his suite. Except for this change of masters, the other servants were to continue in their present duties, while I was degraded to the capacity of Lhaten’s assistant, and was to act as general cook and bottle- washer. I must admit that the servants now entered into the project with unexpected gusto. They cameto viewit as a game, for the dangers which were before us in case of detection had not yet occurred to their slow intellects. The more they thought over the reversal of positions, apparently, the keener they became to start. In fact, they wanted me to diverge the next day to the right and attempt to go directly to Lhasa, but I insisted upon going to Shigatsé first. This, as I have mentioned, is the second sacred city of Tibet and the seat of the Trashi Lama, and I thought it might prove easier to get there than to Lhasa, so that, in case we were turned back before reaching the Forbidden City itself, I should at least have seen that city of Tibet which ranks after the capital in importance. It now became essential that I adopt complete disguise and act the part of coolie which I had taken on myself, feeling that the more lowly I appeared the less attention I should attract to myself. The actual process of disguise I postponed until the next morning (January 31). This turned out a particularly painful business. | My hair was already done and required only a few finishing touches, but in order to stain my skin I had to strip and stand stark naked in that bitter morning wind of the pass, while Lhaten daubed on me my special concoction of walnut-juice and iodine. I considered it necessary to stain my whole body, and not merely the ordinary visible parts, as I “ VICTORY TO THE GODS!” ToL feared that later on I might have to undergo a detdiled physical examination. Then came the question of eyes. *My eyes are blue, such as one never finds in the Orient, and this was likely to prove the weakest point of my disguise. For this I had a twofold remedy. In the first place I sliced open a lemon, specially brought along for this purpose, and squeezed the juice into my eyes. Though sharply painful and likely to irritate the eyeball, lemon-juice serves to give the eyes—temporarily, at least—a much darker hue. For further security, however, I empldyed the glue and dark goggles. I pretended to have contracted a sharp attack of snow-blindness, and dabbed copious amounts of ‘glue and mucilage under the eyelids in imitation of the secretions which customarily result from this trouble, and, furthermore, wore the dark goggles as a pretended protection against the glare of the sun. This excuse would pass muster, as snow-blindness is so common in Tibet as not to call up special comment. The next thing to be done was to wrap up all my European clothes and other incriminating articles, and secrete them under a rock. It may be that some future traveller to Tibet will find them in years to come and wonder how such things came to be placed in this far-away corner of the world. About nine o’clock we started on our first day’s march inside of Tibet itself. Needless to say, I was full of very mixed emotions. That day we were due to come in contact with the Tibetan outposts and were to have a chance of proving whether or not my carefully-thought-out plans of disguise were to be effective—and so much depended upon their effectiveness. After a short descent the path gradually rose again until we were on the top of a second pass, only a few feet lower than the pass which we had crossed the preceding day. From this point the road—if it could be dignified by this name—descended gradually over a gently-sloping plain, which stretched for miles ahead of us and which led down to the Kampa Basin. So gradual is the descent, and so even the surface of the plain, that almost any part of it could be used for motor traffic. The thought came to me of the extensive use which is now being made on the Mongolian plains of light cars going from Kalgan, only a few miles north of Peking, to Urga, the Mongolian capital (where also resides a living Buddha, directly connected t 102 ; TO LHASA IN DISGUISE with the Tibetan hierarchy), and I wondered whether or not, in the not far distant future, some use could be made of the ubiquitous Ford across the plains of Tibet. Owing to the difficulties of my own situation, it struck me as grotesquely comic that perhaps, in future years, when the fanaticism of the ecclesiastical part of the population had been appeased, a party of tourists, shepherded by Messrs. Thomas Cook & Son, might motor their way from the pass to the threshold of the Potala, where the Dalai Lama sits enthroned. Only let me advise such future travellers never to try the journey in winter, ‘when the thermometer hovers between 30° and 40° below zero, and the cutting winds slice their way to one’s bones. As I had come to expect, we found only sparse patches of snow upon the plain, but this absence of snow only served to accentuate the bleak and desolate nature of the country. There, stretching mile after mile, was to be found no sign of trees, bushes, or human habitation. The constant alternation of midday heat with night cold had broken up even the rocks into a sandy soil, with a sprinkling of small pebbles, and had eaten away the angles of occasional low-lying hills into an even, monotonous downlike formation. There was only one colour to everything: a dark and dirty yellow, alleviated only by the brilliant snowy peaks of the Himalaya ranges, which now lay safely behind us. ) At first it seemed as if the plain was completely lifeless— devoid of both fauna and flora. Soon we began to meet with occasional herds of antelope, which seemed to be grazing upon nothing but the sand and pebbles of the plain, but I then noticed that here and there, almost hidden in the soil, was a tiny tuft of coarse grass, to the casual observer invisible owing to its smallness, its scarcity, and its drabness of colour, hiding itself as if ashamed of its very existence, or desirous of detracting notice from its weary struggle to live. So cleverly designed was the coating of the antelopes, so much were they in harmony with their surroundings, that they too were almost invisible until we were practically upon them, and they turned to flee, showing us a tiny tuft of white hair at the tail, like a vanishing wisp of snow. It was possible for us to get a good look at these dainty animals owing to their astonishing fearlessness. In Tibet firearms are scarce, and the ae “VICTORY TO THE GODS!” ° 103 J) clumsy bows and arrows of the natives are useful only at very short range; so that the wild animals of Tibet have not yet learned to flee at the distant sight of men. Besides this, hunting is strictly forbidden by the Tibetan Government, on religious grounds, as being inconsonant with the mercy inculcated by the Buddha, and this prohibition is on the whole fairly well observed, so that the herds of antelope and other wild animals are pretty numerous, and surprisingly lacking in timidity. Several times that morning the graceful animals were within a stone’s-throw—until suddenly ‘‘ Satan ’”’ broke into a pil- grim’s song. The antelopes seemed to have regarded his voice as a most deadly missile, for they soon scattered ; and on the whole I was inclined to agree with them. We went along fairly leisurely. Our pack-animals were so weakened by their long privations that I was afraid of driving them too hard, and as they had been without proper food for so long, we halted now and then to allow them to crop the poor stunted wisps of grass which the antelope herds had shown us. Both ponies were scam and we were forced to walk the whole way. We were going on our way quite unconcernedly, having seen no signs of human habitations, when suddenly a narrow dip in the broad plain, the bed of a long-dried-up and forgotten river, brought to view a little village. We were only a hundred yards away when we saw it, and unfortunately at the same time some of its inhabitants espied us and called out almost immediately, so that it was impossible to make a detour. I quickly whispered to ‘‘ Satan ’”’ and Lhaten to lead the way while I and the others came on with the transport. The village in question turned out to be what is called the Chinese outpost, for during the period of Chinese influence in Tibet, which only ended in 1912, it was the custom of the Chinese governors to keep at this point a small detachment of soldiers to act as a sort of pass guard. The Chinese have departed and their fort has partly fallen into ruin. In the summertime the Tibetans themselves always place an official or two here to examine any traveller who may come over the passes. But the passes are only supposed to be open during the summer months ; in winter all traffic between Sikkim and Tibet, certainly along this route, is closed, and the officials and their underlings are ‘ v T04 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE withdrawn to the great castle of Kampa Dzong, still several miles away. « On arriving at the village, therefore, we were lucky enough to have no one deputed to examine us officially. Nevertheless, I was in a great fright lest someone should detect something unusual in my appearance, so I hid myself amongst our animals as much as I could, and we stopped only long enough to purchase a small supply of food. It was a poor, meagre little village, hardly able to support itself, and could provide us with very little, so it was nece$sary for us to push on to Kampa Dzong that same evening. Owing to my whispered orders, we did not even’stop to eat our food in this village, but, placing it in our wallets, we hurried off, making an excuse that we wished to get to Kampa Dzong as soon as possible. Curiously enough, we learned from the headman, who sold us our ¢sampa, or barley-flour, that there were in this same village two Tibetan peasants who, having urgent business in Lachen, had attempted to cross this pass into Sikkim a few days previously, but owing to the snowstorm had been forced to turn back. One of them had contracted pneumonia and was then in a dying condition. This fact impressed upon us more forcibly the great danger which we had run and the almost miraculous nature of our escape from death while labouring in the passes. The inhabitants of this village were even dirtier than the average run of Tibetans; there was a thick coating of grime on every one of their faces, but considering the cold and the misery of their lives, one could scarcely blame them. Since leaving Lachen we also had not deigned to wash and we seemed on a fair way to equal these natives in the extent of dirtiness, given time enough. The dirt, the cold, and the misery seemed to have eaten into the very souls of these poor beings, and they had all that dead, dull, sodden look of a peasantry long since in their decline ; but since it prevented them noticing anything unusual in my appearance, I was quite satisfied to find them as — they were. The village itself, with its twenty or thinly straggling houses, was of typically Tibetan design, forming a violent contrast to the Sikkim villages we had passed en voute. In the lower, or “VICTORY TO THE GODS!” 7” 105 : ey the inhabited, part of Sikkim, most of the housesare made of bamboo or wood, the roof being sometimes of thatch. In the pass country, one sometimes finds semi-log cabins, though in Lachen most of the houses were made of stone ; but in all cases in Sikkim and the pass country the roofs have all a marked slant, in order to enable them to throw off the summer rain and the winter snow. In Tibet itself, where trees of any sort are a rarity, and bamboos completely unknown, there are no houses built in the Sikkimese fashion, but the buildings in this first little village _ were even more typically Tibetan, inasmuch as they were all built of sun-dried brick. Tibet has sufficient clay soil to render brickmaking fairly easy, but owing to the absence of coal, oil, and wood, which would serve as fuel for brick-kilns, the Tibetan peasants are forced to rely upon the heat of sun-rays to give their roughly-formed bricks sufficient hardness to use for building purposes. In a rainy climate, such as is found on the south side of the Himalayas, these bricks would quickly wash away, but in the dry, rarefied air of Tibet they last indefinitely. Another striking evidence of the dryness of the Tibetan climate is to be found in the flatness of the roofs. In contrast with the sloping roofs of Sikkim, which are in keeping with the hill-and-valley formation of the country, the flat, even forma- tion of the Tibetan house-tops seems but a continuation or imitation of the broad Tibetan plains, save that they are rendéred picturesque by having placed at each corner the prayer-tufts and prayer-flags which flutter in the wind. Each flutter is as a prayer which rises to the gods and brings super- natural protection to the house and its inhabitants. The whole village had by now assembled around our little caravan, and showed such a lively curiosity in the travellers who had been able to get through the dreaded winter passes that I left ‘‘ Satan ’”’ and Lhaten to conclude the bargaining, and with the rest of the party and the transport started at once in the direction of Kampa Dzong. We moved slowly, and half an hour later we were joined by the other two. A mile or two beyond the village we again halted, and sat down to enjoy the first good meal which we had had for some considerable time —good, that is, as regards quantity. ¢ ‘ TO LHASA IN DISGUISE ue While sti#l sitting over the remains, we were overtaken by one or two of our villager friends, who were on their way to the monastery which lay in the direction of Kampa Dzong. They came over to us to continue the conversation of the morning. I was still fearfully self-conscious, and could not believe that my disguise would hold good, and as they approached I immediately rushed away, pretending to attend to the animals, which in their attempt at grazing had wandered a little bit away. I did not dare return until our new acquaintances had safely departed. We learned they were carrying a new flag to present to the monastery on behalf of the poor man who was dying of pneumonia. He was hoping that this*present might enable him to acquire enough merit to secure a longer span of life, or, if fate was against him and he was destined for death, that he might have a felicitous rebirth, for it seemed he had led a some- what merry life, and had dreamed that he was, in punishment, to be reborn as a louse. I pitied the poor man, but could not help feeling that in Tibet the lice—and there are plenty of them —lead a happier existence than the men. We had now to decide upon our own further plans for the day. Lack of provisions and insufficient. knowledge of the road made it necessary for us to goon to Kampa Dzong, but this necessary visit filled me with uneasy forebodings. Kampa Dzong is not only the capital of a large district, but it is also the official gate- way to this part of Tibet. There are placed the governors of the district and all of their official underlings. Trouble to us might arise from any or all of these people, particularly as the Kampa Dzong officials had several times been brought in touch with white men and knew a good deal of their ways. In years past Kampa Dzong officials had turned back several would-be explorers, but on two occasions they had been forced to organize a reception committee on a large scale. The first was in 1903, when the British-Indian Government, anxious to enter into diplomatic negotiations with Tibet and bring about a peaceful conclusion to the points of dispute between the two countries, organized a special commission headed by Major (now Col. Sir Francis) Younghusband, with orders to proceed to the Tibetan frontier and get into touch with some special envoys sent from Lhasa, » 106 ) “VICTORY: TO. THE GODS!” 107 Escorted by some two hundred native soldiers, the Commissioner came up to Tibet through Lachen, and brushing aside the few Tibetan soldiers who attempted to bar his way, crossed the boundary pass, and in July camped just before Kampa Dzong. Four weary months were spent by this party waiting for the arrival of responsible Tibetan officials from Lhasa with whom negotiations could be conducted, but these failed to appear, and in their place some nine thousand Tibetan soldiers were hurried to the neighbourhood and threatened to attack the British party unless it withdrew. Eventually the commission was recalled; but in its place there was organized the more elaborate Younghusband Expedi- tion of 1904, whose actions have already been summarized. The 1904 mission did not extend the march from Kampa Dzong, but entered Tibet through the Chumbi Valley, and from there marched on to Gyangtsé. ‘The second occasion was the friendly reception Kampa Dzong was forced to give the two Everest Expeditions. Since 1912, when Tibet threw off Chinese overlordship and claimed absolute independence, the Tibetan Court has lain under several obliga- tions to the Indian Government, the nature of which will be discussed at more length hereafter. In return, the Tibetans have been forced to make several concessions.. One of these was to permit a climbing-party to skirt the northern base of the Himalayas from Pair to the foot of Mount Everest. In the course of their interesting and valuable scientific work, the members of this party were not permitted to strike into the interior, but in their progress along the southern fringe of Tibet they stopped for several days in Kampa Dzong, and even used it as a sort of base. Unfortunately, the fact that Kampa Dzong had thus been brought into contact with Europeans hindered rather than aided me. The Everest Expedition had been armed with special passports from the Dalai Lama, and the local officials had been forced to concede them hospitality. Not only had such pass- ports been refused to me, but I had been especially ordered out of the country, and as there was a shrewd suspicion that I would make some such venture as I was actually doing, the officials had been told to keep “‘ an eye open.” In the interior, { 108 \ TO LHASA IN DISGUISE where the simple villagers had only a vague idea of what a European laoked like, other than that his skin was white, I felt that disguise might not be so difficult, but in Kampa Dzong they were acquainted with European features, in which cast, in spite of my disguise, my own features run. Our sudden arrival in the depths of winter was sure to cause some comment, and I wanted to have any inquiry which might be made over and done with before I arrived. Consequently I sent ‘‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten on to the town in advance, to purchase supplies and to hire a room in the rest-house for the night. ‘‘ Satan ”’ was to say that his baggage and animals and the remainder of his servants would come on later. The syce, ‘* Diogenes,’ and I were to stay hidden by the roadside until sunset, and thus be able to enter the town after dark. Accordingly “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten set off, ‘‘ Satan ’”’ riding “‘ Lhasa,”’ the youngest pony, which was still reasonably strong, as he wished to arrive in Kampa Dzong attended by a little state, while we sat down for our long wait. Before long we were troubled by the rising of one of the wild Tibetan winds. The Tibetan winds have become famous from the stories which every Tibetan explorer has brought back concerning them. The bare open formation of the country offers these winds great opportunity for sweeping along unchecked, and a gale blowing at a hundred miles an hour is by no means uncommon. For some curious meteorological reason unknown to me, these winds become much stronger in the afternoon. Sometimes the whole morning will be absolutely calm and about one-thirty o'clock a breeze will set in which by three-thirty or four o’clock will have developed into a hurricane. The winds have a ten- dency to die down soon after sunset, but sometimes continue until far into the night. They are generally regarded as the most terrible and devasta- ting, steady winds known anywhere in the world. The cutting gales pierce every form of clothing and remove the little layer of warm air which ordinarily surrounds the body, rendering frostbite a constant and a very real danger. It is to counteract this that the Tibetan preserves on his body the layer of dirt and grease which renders him so obnoxious, but which is really the finest natural clothing he could secure. a “VICTORY TO THE GODS!” /? 109 . 0 On this particular afternoon, situated as we were.on the great plain without any protection, the wind caused us great dis- comfort and we felt perishingly cold. We arranged our luggage in a little semicircle and then crawled into this and curled up. This arrangement offered us partial protection. The syce and “‘ Diogenes ”’ fell fast asleep, while I got out a Tibetan text or two and started to read—something quite out of keeping with my new role of coolie, for it is only the higher priests in Tibet who can even attempt to read and write. My’literary activities very nearly led me into serious trouble. A small party, making its way from Kampa Dzong to the out- post village, saw our little camp and came over to find out who we were. Owing to the wind, they were right over us before we became aware of their existence, and they at once started asking questions I did not dare answer, and I began chanting the text, as if I were carrying on a religious service which could not be interrupted. At the same time I kicked the syce awake, so that he could carry on the necessary conversation, which he did. A very fine tale indeed he spun. The interview must have proved entertaining to both parties, for to me at least it seemed to last interminably, and while it lasted I dared not relax my chanting for a single minute. Fortunately, the text proved wearisomely long, and in common with most Buddhist sutras, or religious discourses, full of repetitions, so I could continue with my bellowing until the small party was once more safely on its way. CHAPTER X THE DISGUISE TESTED « In accordance with our plan, towards sunset we started on our way to the fortress-town, but we hatl several weary hours before we reached it. In the first place, we had under-estimated the distance covered, and, secondly, we were considerably delayed owing to the collapse of ‘‘ Shigatsé,”’ our second pony. He had fought the good fight well, but starvation and piercing cold had mortally weakened him, and at last he refused to go a step farther. I was very loath to lose him, and I thought that if we could only get him to Kampa Dzong, where shelter and good food awaited, he might yet recover. By alternate pushings and pullings we managed to get him another half-mile on the way, but in the end he died under our eyes despite all our efforts. Already overloaded as they were, it was impossible to add another pound to the weight carried by the other animals, so I was forced to abandon, with the dead pony, his saddle and one of our saddle-bags which he was carrying. Our travelling equipment had been reduced to what seemed an absolute minimum, but bit by bit we were being forced to dispense with a good part of even this minimum. The discarded saddle, incidentally, was of good English make and had cost a pretty penny. In Tibet, for the most part, in spite of the abundance of yak-hides which can be made into excellent leather, the saddles are constructed of wood. The wooden saddles of the richer classes are inlaid with coral and turquoise, the favourite jewels of the Tibetan, and some are of really pretty workman- ship, though insufferably hard, so that it is the custom to lay a number of carpets of native make on top of the saddle to ease the rider’s seat. When saddled, a Tibetan pony, therefore, appears to have imitated a dromedary and grown a huge hump on its back. T19Q THE DISGUISE TESTED § III > »f In recent years, owing to their greater lightness and compact- ness, a number of leather saddles have been imported from India by the Tibetan gentry ; and they are quite frequently used by the Sikkimese, so that the fact that we had such a saddle would not necessarily lead to exposure, but at the same time I did not dare take the spare saddle on to Kampa Dzong in order to sell it there, for by attracting attention to it arghies might have been aroused. Once the pony had been left behind, our journey became easier,.and I was able to appreciate more fully the marvellous beauty of the night. The moon had risen, its light casting a magic spell over the land. The desolation of the place seemed softened, and far off in the distance the indistinct mass of the mighty Himalayas reflected from their many snowy crests a soft yellow sapphire radiance, while the moaning of the wind seemed like the eerie voices of goblins hovering above us. About a mile or so outside the town we were met by Lhaten. He had become frightened by our failure to arrive, and had come back along the roadway to see if he could trace us, and at the same time to tell us how he and “ Satan ”’ had fared during the day. The officials had heard of their arrival, and they had been interrogated as to who they were and what they were doing ; but they had allowed nothing to leak out about me, and as it seemed perfectly natural that transport animals, exhausted by their efforts in the snow, should not arrive until later, my two ser- vants were dismissed by the officials and allowed to go on with the purchase of provisions in the little market of Kampa. Here a little problem presented itself. I had exhausted my ten-rupee and smaller notes in Lachen, and had given Lhaten a hundred-rupee note (£7 Ios. approximately) with which to purchase our supplies. Some difficulty was found in securing change for this amount. Rupees, of course, are Indian currency, but as Sikkim has no currency of its own, rupees have gradually become the standard medium of exchange. Quite a number of Tibetan traders go down to India to sell Tibetan wool, and bring back cheap goods to Tibet, and the Tibetan merchants have also become accus- tomed to the handling of rupees. In some cases, even, they prefer them to their own currency, but in most cases transac- tions are carried out with the ten-rupee note, which is 2 aid TO LHASA IN DISGUISE de remarkably.like the note of 100 rupees in size and in appearance. To an Oriental the addition of a cypher or so means nothing, as anyone acquainted with Indian chronology well knows, so Lhaten had great difficulty in getting the Kampa merchants to believe that there really was a difference between his note and the more usual ten-rupee note. Even when this was done, he discovered that none of the merchants was rich enough to change this stupendous figure. In the end, three or four of the wealthiest had to club together and buy the note, giving an ae a heap of Tibetan coins in exchange. The basis of money in Tibet is the trangka, apical five of which, according to present rates of exchange, make a rupee, or Is. 3d., so that a trangka is about a fourth of a shilling. These are supposedly made of silver, but of silver so debased that I wondered if empty tin cans did not form a large item in the purchases of the Lhasa mint, where these and all other Tibetan coins are made. Even trangkas are somewhat rare, and most of the peasants concern themselves only with the smaller divisions of the trangka. These smaller denominations are coined from various copper alloys. The most important are : 1. The kakang, or one-sixth of a trangka. 2. The karmanga, or one-third of a trangka. 3. The chegya, or one-half of a trangka. 4. The shokang, or two-thirds of a trangka. This curious division of the unit results in a good deal of extraordinary calculation in Tibet, where the peasants are completely lacking in a mathematical sense, and I wondered why it had not been changed. But until Great Britain and the United States have adopted the metric system, and Great Britain the decimal system, these countries can scarcely say anything about Tibetan backwardness in this regard. Lhaten kept me shivering in the cold for some time explaining how things had gone, but once I found that everything was safe I insisted on pushing on, and not long afterwards we came under the great gloomy castle and entered the little town which lies at its foot. In accordance with instructions, “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten had found lodgings in a little rest-house on the outskirts / THE DISGUISE TESTED id II3 of the Kampa Dzong, so that, once arrived at the tewn, we had not fartogo. . : By chance we had come to Kampa Dzong at the time when a local fair was held. This was largely attended by the small traders and peasantry of the surrounding villages. The town rest-houses were all completely full. ‘‘ Satan,’’ indeed, as master, was allowed to share a room in the house itself with one or two petty merchants, but the other servants and I were forced to spend the night on the roof. This, being, of course, flat, caused no great inconvenience, except that it exposed us to the terrible night cold. Although sleeping inside, ‘‘ Satan ”’ took advantage of his position to procure all of our best blankets, so that we were forced to face the night with but a single blanket apiece—no small matter when the thermometer registered 30° below zero! Lhaten and the other two servants prepared themselves for this ordeal by going down to the communal-room—used as a kitchen—underneath, and taking a hot and stupendous supper, washed down by huge draughts of chang, or Tibetan beer, which they also drank hot. I had not yet acquired enough - courage to face the crowd that gathers in every Tibetan inn, and remained on the cold roof, telling Lhaten to say that I was ill and had to go to bed immediately. On this excuse he managed to bring some food up to me. Anyone who noticed must have thought that, for an invalid, I ate surprisingly well, but it mnst not be forgotten that we came very near starvation in the passes, and in my joy at seeing food again, I wanted to devour everything in sight. The festivities downstairs continued for some time, and as I lay on the roof shivering with cold, I was fearful every moment that, in their bibulous merriment, the servants might let fall some words as to the true nature of things. I had given orders for an early start the next morning, however, so before long the party came up the rickety ladder and settled down to sleep. Soon their snores told me that, for the next few hours at least, they were not likely to get into mischief. I was less fortunate in my attempts at repose. The cold, which increased hour by hour, was so insistent that every time I dozed off it seemed to claw me awake again. Besides the nervous excitement of the venture, the responsibility which it H \ II4 \. TO LHASA IN DISGUISE entailed prevented that relaxation which was necessary for sleep, and at last giving up the job as hopeless, I sat up and surveyed the moonlight panorama. The kindly night hid the dirtiness of the streets, and made the castle which loomed on the hill appear very impressive. These castles, or dzongs, as they are called in Tibetan (hence the name Kampa Dzong), fill such a prominent place in the landscape and life of Tibet that a special word must be said about them. A great deal of Tibet is inhabited by nomads who make no attempt at agriculture, and eke out a ‘scanty existence by moving about with their flocks of sheep and yaks. Over such people the Central Lhasa Government has a scanty and only indirect control. Where, however, the nomads have given way to small settled communities engaged in trade, or in agriculture, an attempt has been made to set up a definite system of government, partially modelled on the old bureau- cratic régime of China, but very largely modified to suit the ecclesiastical nature of the whole of the Tibetan political organization, CHAPTER XI ; PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT AT the present time Tibet is divided into fifty-three ad- ministrative districts, of which fifty are ordinary and three are extraordinary, and each such district has some town or village which has been chosen to serve as the local capital or centre of administration. In nearly all such cases the Governors reside in a great fortress castle, built as far as possible of stone, and placed on the summit of a small hill commanding a view of the surrounding plains. At the base of this hill is situated the village itself. The castles are for the most part* really imposing-looking places, and although, as the events of 1904 showed, incapable of withstanding bombardment by modern artillery, they are, or should be, practically impreg- nable against any attack by men armed with only bows and arrows, or even rifles. But their massiveness is not only designed to protect them against attack from an invading army, but also to inspire awe in the hearts of the peasantry of the district, making them the more willing to obey all orders issued by the officials appointed from Lhasa. In many cases these castles owe their origin to conditions similar to those which brought about the erection of the castles on the Rhine and other parts of Europe, and were constructed by local chieftains who had a close resemblance to the robber barons of the European Middle Ages. The lord chieftains have been gradually ousted by the centralized Lhasa Govern- ment, and the seats of former semi-independent overlords transformed into residences for the centrally-appointed Governors. A few castles are comparatively modern in origin and have been built for their present purpose by the Govern- ment, but in close imitation of the older robber fortresses, 115 116 or TO LHASA IN DISGUISE while, on the other hand, one finds all over Tibet ruins of former stately castles and prosperous villages which have gradually fallen into decay. The interior of these castles, as I found out afterwards, is dirty, dark, ill-shaped, and in many cases, owing to structural defects, really unsafe, but their exterior, especially when viewed from a distance, strikes one as magnificent, and displays a talent and a taste for architecture which seems entirely out of keeping with the degraded and barbarous state of the Tibetans. I have wondered whether these buildings might not reflect a former period of culture which has since been lost. But in this connection the recent history of Gyangtsé and Pari deserves to be brought to mind. As the results of the Yotng- husband Expedition, both Gyangtsé and Pari Dzongs were razed to the ground, and it was part of the treaty signed by Tibet that neither of these citadels should be rebuilt. Strict observance of treaties is by no means a strong point in Tibetan character, and a few years later the authorities set about rebuilding these castles. The English Government being then in the hands of the Liberals, nothing was done to stop this procedure, and both these castles have now been completely rebuilt, and on quite as grand a scale as previously, so that at one stroke the Tibetans have once more justified their reputation as architects and treaty-breakers. An excellent instance of the double nature of the Tibetan Government is to be found in the fact that each administrative district is governed by two Governors, one of them a monk and the other a layman. Needless to say, the monk Governor ranks higher than his lay brother-official, although the power is divided pretty equally between them. In Tibet it is only the priesthood who are taught to read and write, and although the lay Governor may have picked up the rudiments of writing, it is the monk Governor who has charge of all official corres- pondence, while the layman is charged with the supervision of purely business affairs. The salary of both officials is small, but both become enormously wealthy during their term of office, for bribery and corruption are rampant in every part of Tibetan public life. The officials have practically unlimited powers of extortion— powers which they are by no means loath to use—and huge PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT. 117 monetary bribes are paid to the higher officials in Lhasa in order to secure the post of Governor in a particularly wealthy district. Ordinarily the Governors are appointed for a period of five years, although this period of office may be shortened or prolonged, and it is quite customary for Governors to be transferred from one district to another at the expiry of their term of office, from the fear lest one man, by residing too long in any one place and gaining too great control over it, should be tempted to break away from the Central Government and form a little principality of his own. In fact, the Governors possess enormous powers of local self-government, and, especially in the outlying districts, have very little to do with the higher Lhasa authorities, except to send once a year a small fixed tribute to the capital—a tribute which is chiefly paid in kind: barley, butter, or wool. By good fortune, just at the time when I came to Kampa Dzong, one of the Governors, by far the more active of the two, was away in Shigatsé on a visit, and his absence probably influenced the slovenly way in which my servants had been questioned by the officials that afternoon. Life is indeed deadly dull in the outlying Tibetan towns, and when the winter months come, suspending all agricultural work, and thereby all chances of monetary gain on the part of the officials, it is not uncommon for one or other of the Governors of the smaller districts to discover some urgent business, or a dying relative, which takes him to the gayer life of Shigatsé or Lhasa. Later on I came across several cases where a young Governor, who had powerful connections in Lhasa, practically never saw the district over which he was supposed to rule. He appointed some retainer to act as deputy to collect the moneys, while the young aristocrat enjoyed his amusements in the capital. Too much landscape, whether in literature or in life, is apt to prove very wearying and sleep-inducing, so after I had gazed my full at the castle, the sleeping village, and the broad plain around, I once more lay down to sleep, and this time with more success. But my night’s rest was very short, for accord- ing to plan I got up very early next morning and, accompanied by Lhaten, left the village before it was light, being still afraid that if the Tibetans got too good a look at me they would penetrate my disguise. The syce, “‘ Diogenes,” and “ Satan ” 118 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE were left behind to see that the animals were loaded, to pay the rest- house charges, and to start as soon as it was dawn. Such an early start is by no means unusual in Tibet, and I found that, early as we were, one or two of our fellow-lodgers had already departed. We crossed over the little stream from which the Kampa Dzong inhabitants get their water, but which at this time of the year is practically one block of ice, and went on for another mile and a half, then halted for a moment to get a last backward look at Kampa Dzong, over which the sun was just rising. The day was remarkably fine in contrast to the cloudy weather we had experienced the last several days, and the young, fresh rays of the sun cast a pink radiance over the peaks of the Himalayas, which to the south now stretched in perfect visibility on both sides to seeming infinity. It was far and away the finest view I had ever seen, and even so stolid and humdrum a person as myself had to pause to drink in its grandeur. Here at last the Himalaya was no mere geographical name, but a living reality, seemingly aware of its own serene greatness. From no part of India is it possible to gain so general a view of the mighty range, for the great altitudes of the highest peaks are rendered apparently less than the actual by the gradually-ascending foothills, and it is impossible to see more than a few miles on either side. Furthermore, the constant humidity of the southern slopes brings about cloud-caps which more often than not render the topmost peaks invisible. Here, on the other hand, the great mountains rose sharp and clear from the dead level of the Kampa Plain to their greatest height. The dry crystal Tibetan atmosphere brought out every detail into relief, and it almost seemed as if at a glance one could see the whole of the long stretch of mountains. To the east was Chumolhari ; to the south Kanchenjao and Chumiomo, between which we had battled with the snow; and to the west Mount Everest, the highest mountain in the world. It is curious to note that even the great ocean tides pay their tribute to the massiveness of the Himalayas. Colonel Waddell was the first to point out that the stupendous projecting mass of the Himalayas exemplifies the earth’s attraction and pulls the sea-level of the Bay of Bengal some distance up its sides, so that in sailing to Calcutta one is actually sailing uphill. PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT IIQ It is probably known generally that, geologically speaking, the Himalayas are of very recent formation, being the last great range of mountains to be formed. Whereas we ourselves belong to the Quaternary period of the earth’s history, the Himalayas rose about the middle of the preceding or Tertiary period, while to an earlier portion of the same period are ascribed the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the great range of mountains in the west of both North and South America, which are known in different parts by widely-differing names. To a far earlier period, the Primary, belong the low-lying mountains of Wales, Scotland, Scandinavia, and the mountains of the eastern portion of America. . : .We halted for some time here waiting for our main party to come up, but as they appeared to be delayed, Lhaten and I went our way across the Kampa Plain. Running diagonally across it, we could see the streak of silver which marked the frozen river. This ran for several miles to the west before it turned south and, passing through a gap in the Himalayas, poured down through Nepal to India and the sea. It was very interesting to me to note that, high and stupendous as the Himalayas are, they form no true watershed, and that the waters of the Kampa and its allied plains, finding no other outlet, have eaten a way through even that massive wall of rock. Our road, however, now turned to the north and we soon left the river behind us. Needless to say, the Tibetan officials never dream of spending a penny on roads, and the so-called “ roads ”’ are nothing more than tracks on the plains, which have been made by the passage of the mules and yaks of the small caravans which are con- stantly going to and fro all over Tibet. Were it not for the terrible climate, the cold winds, and the absence of fertilizing moisture, these great plains would be ideal spots for agricultural cultivation. The soil itself is excellent and practically virgin. . But Lhaten, who, though a Tibetan, had travelled extensively in India, expressed his interest in the great contrast there was between the life on the Indian plains and here on the Tibetan plateau. In India one would see such a flat country teeming with life, cut into paddy-fields, and at every few miles a cosy village half-hidden behind a clump of bush, while here there was neither field, nor village, nor 120 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE any sign . life, for now even Kampa Dzong was safely hidden from sight. Soon we came to a place where the road broke into three, all of which would in the end lead us to Shigatsé, but as I had no idea which one was most direct, and as I was afraid that our main party would not know which track to follow, I sat down to await its arrival. We had not long to wait, for soon I caught sight of our animals with “ Satan,” of course, riding our one remaining pony, but I was very puzzled to see not two but four men following behind. On catching sight of us, “ Satan” spurred his pony on ahead, and as soon as he was within speak- ing distance I asked who the two strangers were. To my utter astonishment, he told me that they were two Kampa Dzong peasants whom he had hired to act as coolies to carry the food-supplies he had bought the preceding day, as he did not wish to overload the mules. This news was completely staggering, and for the first and only time while on the way to Lhasa I lost my temper. I explained very forcibly, and with frequent reference to his genealogical table, according to the immemorial custom of the East, how many kinds of a fool he was, and in what great danger he had brought the whole venture. I had ordered quite a large supply of food and grain to be purchased in Kampa Dzong expressly in order that we might be able to keep away from all villages until we came to Shigatsé. I thought my disguise might be good enough to pass muster with any chance travellers we met on the road, but was afraid of the close contact that halting amongst Tibetans might entail, and now here was “‘ Satan ”’ actually bringing Tibetans along with us, men with whom I should have to carry on long conversations—far worse than merely halting at towns each evening and starting early the next morning before sunrise. It was even impossible to stay where we were and talk the matter over, for our new servants were almost up with us. I ordered Lhaten to stay behind and halt the caravan for a few minutes on the excuse of shifting the loads of the mules, while I went on with “‘ Satan ”’ and argued out what was to be done. The mules were indeed overloaded, but it was better that they and we should carry a few extra pounds until we got to Shigatsé, a noted train-animal market, than that we should needlessly run chances of detection. Little did I guess the many more THE ROAD TO GYANGTSE A typical Tibetan road GYANGTSE, THE THIRD CITY OF TIBET AND THE CAPITAL OF THE PROVINCE On the hill in the left background is the castle, and in the foreground on the right is the Golden Chorten shrine PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT t2t serious chances with which we were later to meet. In fact, I would have preferred to leave some of our older. equipment behind than to carry along two spies with us. Having thus concluded to rid myself of the two new servants who had been thrust upon me, I had next to decide how this should be done. It would undoubtedly seem strange to them to be arbitrarily dismissed a few hours after they had been hired, particularly after the master had been seen in an animated conversation with his mysterious servant, so I told “‘ Satan ’”’ to go back and tell them that they had only been hired because two of his servants, Lhaten and myself, had been so ill in the passes that it was thought to be inapossible for us to carry any heavy loads for the next few days, but that the good food and rest we had had in Kampa Dzong had completely restored us, and conse- quently there was no longer any need for outside help—at the same time they were to be paid the whole of their first day’s wages. | “Satan ’’ took my remarks in no very gracious manner and attemped to argue, but I was very emphatic about the matter, and as I began to finger my Bhutanese dagger in a very notice- able way, he went back and carried out the necessary order. Lhaten, always true and faithful, backed up his story, and the Kampa coolies took their dismissal surprisingly mildly—partly, no doubt, because they were by no means loath to return to the local festivities which were then taking place in the district capital—and before very long I was again joined by the whole of my original party. The disagreeable scene, however, was destined to have lasting and unfortunate effects. My vocabulary of unpleasant Tibetan words was fairly large, and I had made very full and effective use of them towards “ Satan ” in explaining my attitude with regard to his action, and they very obviously rankled in his devious soul. I had deeply injured his pride, and from that time on he was practically my declared enemy. To serve his own purposes and to fill his own purse, he consented to continue to play his part, but he was only waiting for an opportunity to humiliate me and to wreak vengeance. I was fortunate, however, in having all the other servants against him. Tibetan servants have curiously little loyalty to one another, and in the present instance there was positive rancour on either side. 122 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Generally speaking, Lhaten and the syce stood together as against “‘Satan.” The half-idiotic ‘‘ Diogenes’’ formed a third party, but the petty quips and persecutions to which “Satan ’’ subjected him gradually began to fill his slow, stupid mind with a burning hatred that was likely to prove terrible in the end. | We now had to skirt a low-lying group of hills set in the centre of the plain, and rounding these hills we suddenly came in sight of no less than six villages, so that my impression of the absolute lifelessness of Tibet had to be revised, particularly as all of these villages appeared to be in quite a thriving condition. It was impossible to avoid them as the road led right through four of the villages, and not being quite sure of our way, we had even to stop once or twice in order to find out first which tracks we were to follow. Putting on a bold face, we marched right into their midst, though I insisted on changing loads with “‘ Diogenes,”’ who was carrying the bulkiest pack, as it was a fixed point in my creed that no Tibetan would suspect the humblest, and seemingly the most oppressed, member of a party of being a European—such is the prestige the English have acquired even in this Forbidden Land—and subsequent events went to justify my belief. As we stopped for a moment at one or two of the houses, I was able to inspect them more carefully. Although equally filthy, they were certainly better built than those of the first village we struck in Tibet. Nearly all of the houses were two-storied, and quite a number three-storied, for the Tibetan peasant is no great advocate of the bungalow type of architecture, and as it is customary for all of the branches of a family to live together they can afford to have fairly large dwellings. They appear to be even larger than they really are, as they are built around a courtyard. Most of them have verandahs running around the first or second floors, looking down into the courtyard, and in many cases the staircases connecting the floors run from veran- dah to verandah, there being no connection between the various stories on the inside of the house. These staircases are very rickety affairs, generally mere step-ladders with small round rungs made of unplaned smaller tree-branches. In nearly all cases the ground floor of the house is used only for stables or warehouses, with occasionally a room set aside as servants’ PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 123 quarters, the residential part being on the first or,second floor. Most frequently, I was told, the head of the family had the highest room, as it was considered injurious to his dignity to have anyone standing or sleeping above him—think of having the feet of a servant just over the master’s head! The houses of the poorer villages are uncoloured, retaining the natural mud-colour of the sun-dried bricks, but in these more pros- perous communities the dwellings had been colour-washed, either white or red, with also an occasional blue. Ours inquiries as to the way were answered very satisfactorily, and though we were asked who we were and where we were going, no suspicions seemed to be aroused. In accordance with my instructions, we always gave our destination as being merely Shigatsé, as I wished to avoid any mention of Lhasa. Our experience in this village gave me a great deal of confidence. The villagers obviously noticed nothing peculiar in my appear- ance, so that I was emboldened to think that, after all, the mad venture we were on might meet with success, though we were still far from our goal, and the attitude of “‘ Satan ’’ worried me considerably. In any case, I intended taking no risks, and we halted for lunch not in any of the villages, but a little beyond them in an open space through which ran a little stream on its way to join, much lower down, the river we had seen earlier in the morning. Here, in this more protected part of the plain, the ice was very thin, and I was able to break through it and quench my thirst with the chill water flowing beneath. My servants preferred to drink some chang, or Tibetan barley- beer, which we had brought with us from Kampa Dzong. This is really a very refreshing drink and very mild, seldom contain- ing as much as 4 per cent. of alcohol, and I would very willingly have shared it with them, but for politic reasons I thought it better to content myself with water. Owing to the great difficulties I found in persuading my Tibetan servants to accompany me, a barbarian, to Lhasa, the Holy of Holies, I found it very convenient to employ as much as possible the honorary Buddhist priesthood which had been granted me several years previously in Japan, as the result of certain scholastic studies carried on there into Buddhist literature and philosophy ; and it was only by emphasizing my lamaistic qualifications that I got my poor, superstitious 124 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE servants to follow me as faithfully as they did. In theory, a good Buddhist priest does not drink any form of alcohol, and it behoved me to play the part of lama to my own servants quite as perfectly as the part of coolie to the general Tibetan popu- lace. ‘“‘ Satan,’ indeed, though a priest, drank anything that came his way, as does nearly every Sikkimese monk, as well as those lamas in Tibet itself who belong to the older Red-hat or unreformed sect ; but such wine-bibbing is despised even by the most drunken of the Sikkimese or Tibetan peasantry, who always want their priests to be something better than they are themselves. I am, therefore, led to think that a great deal of the loyalty which my servants (with the exception of ‘‘ Satan ’’) showed towards me was the result of the little ecclesiasticism I was always careful to throw in from time to time. On the present occasion I was able to get my own back with a little irony. A tiny vest-pocket edition of Omar Khayyam was one of the two English books I had with me, and while sipping my water, I took out old Omar and chanted two or three of his particularly-bibulous verses, while the servants, who, of course, understood not a word, took it as part of some religious service. Once on our way again we rapidly neared the northern limit of the Kampa Plain, and soon came upon another fork in the road. To the left ran the road to the Sakya Monastery, while to the right lay the more direct route to Shigatsé. The Sakya Monastery is one of the oldest existing Tibetan monasteries and more than usually famous historically. Sakya is renowned not only for its monastery and temple buildings, but also for its great library with its ancient manuscripts. The town is built on the eastern slopes of the Ponpo-ri, around the foot of which the River Tom flows. It is the home of the royal K6n family of Sakya, and apart from its temples and abbots is not held in very high repute in Tibet, being notorious for thieves and bandits, and its immorality. Lhaten had once been to Sakya, and told me a good deal about it. According to him the buildings of Sakya are strik- ing, being painted red with the clay obtained on the neighbour- ing mountains, and with black and blue perpendicular stripes. There are four temples with Chinese-style roofs, the many spires being gilded, and these in days gone by were ruled PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 125 over by four abbots of hereditary rank who were allowed to marry. : The books and manuscripts are on shelves along the walls of the great hall, the volumes being 6 feet in depth and 18 inches broad. They are bound with iron, and on the cardboard covers of some are innumerable images of Buddhas. The pages have illuminated margins, the first four volumes having illustrations of the thousand Buddhas. Some of the books are written in gold. There are also books in Chinese. Another interesting relic at the Lha-Kang chempo is a conch- shell the whirls of which turn from left to right. Lamas alone may blow it, and they do so only on receiving seven ounces of stlver. One acquires great merit by blowing or inducing a lama to blow this shell. Sakya monastery is chiefly famous, however, for the fact that for many centuries it was the headquarters of the Tibetan Government. When Tibet emerged from absolute savagery in the seventh century A.D. it was ruled by a line of hereditary kings. It was these kings who introduced Buddhism and established the earlier monasteries. As the number and power of the monks increased, they became jealous of the temporal authority and eventually overthrew it. I had in my mind to visit this famous place and then double back to Shigatsé, but careful thought convinced me that I had better push on to Shigatsé directly. Sooner or later my prolonged absence from Darjeeling would arouse suspicion that I had gone to Tibet, and if I was to get to Lhasa, it was neces- sary to get there quickly before too many rumours about me could circulate. And so, taking the road to the right, we soon began to climb the mountain range which forms the boundary of the Kampa Plain. Although called a tableland, Tibet is intersected by a number of mountain ranges, many of them of considerable height, which break up its vast level expanse into a number of flat-bottomed basins of various sizes. These basins also differ considerably as regards elevation. In the great Changtang, the desert wilderness which lies to the north- west of Shigatsé, only a small part of which is inhabited, the beds of some of these basins lie over 17,000 feet above sea-level. The Lhasa Plain is, for Tibet, comparatively low, being only 126 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE some 12,000 ‘feet high. The Kampa Plain, which is one of the largest singlé basins, is about 15,000 feet above sea-level, as high as the summit of Mont Blanc, the highest peak in Europe. Occasionally, as between Tuna and Shigatsé, these plains are connected by valleys which make travelling comparatively simple, but for the most part travelling in Tibet consists of long marches along level plains interspersed with steep ascents and descents of mountains which may be said to act as walls or sides of the basins. This particular divide proved very steep and very seaside and we found its ascent even more difficult than that of the Koru Pass itself. All the morning I had insistéd on “‘ Satan,” as the master, mounting our one remaining riding-pony, but now evén he had to dismount and help us get the struggling pack-animals through the huge sand-drifts in which they were hopelessly struggling. Nearer the top we came across some long-lying snow which had become frozen into a single icy block. For the animals this proved still more difficult, so we had to go back to our old custom and hack out steps and footholds for them. All this took a good deal of time, and it was already three p.m. before we got to the top. Here we found another gyatse, and though no one was around, we carefully followed Tibetan cus- tom and added a stone to the little heap in front of the mountain shrine and called on the gods for protection. From here we could see below us another plain, similar to the one from which we had just come, but on a smaller scale. No villages were in sight, but grazing on the plain were several herds of yak and sheep, with a number of herdsmen looking after them. : It took us some time to get from our mountain pass down to the bed of the plain, but once this task was accomplished, I decided to halt for the night and to pitch our camp by the side of a tiny frozen lake we found just at the base of the mountain. Although invisible, I knew that a few miles farther on, on the other side of the plain, lay a large village, the village of Kuma, but I felt that the farther away we camped from every village the safer we were. We were still in contact with the herdsmen, but this I did not mind. The herdsmen belonged to one of the nomad tribes, a simple and kindly people, though many of them, especially in - PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 127 the north, are given to brigandage. The townsmen and the nomads are never on particularly friendly terms, and the latter tend to look on the Government officials, who dwell in the towns, with a certain amount of suspicion. We stopped one of the men in charge of a yak herd and purchased from him some yak’s milk, which I drank with great relish, for though possessing a somewhat peculiar taste, it is very rich in cream, and in this bitterly-cold climate everything of a fatty nature is very palatable. In taste the quality of yak’s milk lies some- where Hetween cow’s milk and goat’s milk. Strangely enough, notwithstanding the enormous number of yaks to be found in Tibet and the great amount of milk which they produce, the Tibetans themselves are very loath to drink it, or to use it in any way in cooking. Most Tibetans regard milk as filthy, as being a different form of urine, and when drunk it is regarded as a kind of medicine which must be taken however unpleasant it may be, so that when we purchased our supply from the herdsman, we had to explain that one of us was ill and required it on medical grounds. The repugnance which the Tibetans feel against milk is more than counteracted by their fondness for butter. While, curiously enough, milk is regarded as filthy, butter is considered clean, and incredible quantities of butter are consumed every year. Itis chiefly used in the preparation of tea, as we shall see hereafter. Quite apart from its food value, butter is largely used in two other ways, one as a fuel for lamps and the other asa decoration. . | Nearly every one of the older religions reveals a fondness for having some light burning before its sacred images, and in Tibetan Buddhism this practice has been carried to extra- ordinary lengths. At all times the principal idols have two or three sacred lamps burning in front of them, and at festival periods the number of such lamps set alight in a temple will be increased by hundreds and even thousands. It is a common form of piety to bestow a sum of money on a temple to have a special display of such lights. In all such cases the only fuel used is butter. The lamp itself is a wide, shallow bowl, the wick being a twisted cord made of wool placed in the middle of a lump of butter. The flame is a rich and creamy yellow, rather pretty, but it gives out little light, for which reason, and also i 128 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE because of ‘the expense of the fuel, these butter-lamps are chiefly used in religious buildings, and are but sparsely employed by laymen. The Tibetan believes in going to bed with the sun, and in an ordinary household artificial light is seldom required. During the last few years wax candles of European design have been imported into the larger centres, such as Shigatsé and Lhasa, and the townsmen are taking to the use of them; but they remain entirely secular, and it would be considered blasphemous to burn a candle before a sacred image. As a decoration for the temple, or family shrine, butter is also in great demand. The butter is moulded into various shapes, having some more or less yeometrical form, and frequently having some bas-relief design representing -an animal, or more frequently a flower. Although made entirely of butter, these zorma, as they are called, are usually dyed in various different colours, reds and greens being the popular shades. Some of these forma are made only for a special occasion and then ceremoniously destroyed, but many of the larger ones, on which a great deal of sculptural effort has been expended, are expected to last a year, and are solemnly replaced at some annual festival. Although I enjoyed the yak’s milk, Tibetan butter I always found particularly unpleasant. The Tibetans never think of preparing it with salt, and owing to the peculiar nature of yak’s milk, it very soon becomes rancid. Even a few days after its preparation it acquires a smell and a taste which is, to Europeans, extremely repulsive. Consequently, although Tibet is a land overflowing with butter, every Englishman— such, for example, as the officers stationed at the military outposts at Gyangtsé and Yatung—are forced to import tins of butter from Australia. The Tibetans not only find nothing wrong with their butter, but actually appreciate it more the older and “‘ riper ’’ it is, and the same nomad who sold us the milk offered us some butter which he proudly declared was forty years old. The one whiff which I got of it made me readily believe in the antiquity claimed for it. At this moment Lhaten came to my aid and declared that though our master (‘‘ Satan ’’) was of excellent family, he could not afford such a costly luxury and would prefer to buy some butter which was fresher and cheaper. PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 129 De gustibus non est disbutandem, to use Frederick’ the Great’s one Latin quotation: in Tibet it is butter, in China it is eggs. A Chinese gentleman considers an egg which is literally black with age a peculiar delicacy, but until we have rid ourselves of our taste for game and cheese which are more than “ high ”’ we shall hardly be in a position to criticize Oriental preferences. As dusk drew on the herdsmen gradually began to lead off their flocks to a point some distance away, where their encamp- ment lay. These yaks seem to have an ear for music, for their herdsnzen always whistle in a peculiar way through their teeth to keep the herds together and on the march; but the Tibetan sheep appear’impervious to melody, for in their case the men employ slings with which they throw small stones with really remarkable accuracy. It was very interest- ing to see huge flocks of sheep guided along their way by a small hail of pebbles which assailed them on every side. CHAPTER XlIT LIFE: ON THE PLAINS ¢ SOON we were once more alone and*I could again take an active part in the proceedings. While the herdsmen were around, I had curled myself up near our unloaded baggage and had pretended to go to sleep, while “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten carried on negotiations, though I was gradually losing my timidity as to my disguise. The great cold, which had lessened at midday, once more came on, and as it gradually soaked into our pores we became nearly paralysed and stupefied both as regard body and brain. I longed for the partial protection which the erection of our tent would bring us, but that tried and faithful friend was of too obviously European design, and I was afraid that the herdsmen, or some chance traveller, might see it and wonder as to the nature of its occupants, and so, to the great dissatisfaction of my servants, I gave orders that we were not to use it. Instead we made a semicircle of our bags and boxes and crept inside this with nothing but heaven above us. We were partly consoled by being able to light a fire. We had not seen a single tree for several days past, but we found in the plain some old yak-dung, which we collected and used for fuel. Incidentally it may be noted that this is the only ~ fuel used over the greater part of Tibet, which is barren of both trees and coal. It is collected by the village children and specially dried before being burned. It gives a quick hot fire, but has to be frequently replenished. Owing to the ammonia contained in it, it emits a very acrid smell, which flavours any food cooked over it. Strangely enough, one becomes accustomed to this taste, and subsequently finds for a time that food cooked in an ordinary way seems almost tasteless, 130 ‘LIFE ON THE PLAINS 131 On this particular evening the yak-dung was worse than usual, for we had to use what we could find. None wet recovered had been properly dried. Some of it was so fresh that it refused to burn, and as the bitter acrid smoke got into our eyes, it became very painful. To a certain extent I was glad of this. The weak point in my disguise was my eyes, and if they were obviously swollen and bloodshot I should have all the better excuse for wearing my dark goggles, which served not only to hide the colour, but also the European formation of my eyes. Our nightly camp-fire conversation was shortened that evening owing to the intreasing cold, and all of us were anxious to tuck ourselves in as soon as possible. In the absence of the tent, the only thing to do was to sleep as close to one another as possible. I never thought I should enjoy sleeping huddled up amongst filthy natives, but then all other thoughts save that of warmth were banished, and so we piled all the blankets together and crept under them. Even so, we could only find sleep by lying so close together as to feel the warmth of one another’s bodies. Social distinctions were only to be seen from the fact that “‘ Satan ’’ and I were in the middle and there- fore protected on both sides, while the others were arranged on the outside, ‘“ Diogenes” sleeping at our feet. He, poor boy, was destined to have a bad time. The shoes he had brought with him from Sikkim had fallen to pieces, and we had pur- chased for him a new pair of boots in Kampa Dzong. Unlike most Tibetan boots, which are made entirely of wool, these Kampa Dzong boots were made of very badly-treated yak leather, and were insufferably stiff. During the latter part of the day “‘ Diogenes ”’ preferred the cold of bare feet to the torture of the boots, and had exposed his toes to the frozen soil and the biting night cold. We were so tired from the previous day’s exertions, and our night’s rest had been so miserable, that we slept on longer than was intended. It was nearly eight o’clock before we were on the move again. I was glad to see that a good feed had improved the spirits of our animals; they looked fresher than they had done for some time past. On the other hand, all three of the mules had been developing very sore backs. 132 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Our packs were modelled on native Tibetan lines and were very difficult to balance, so that they had always a tendency to drag on one side or the other, which, of course, served to irritate any saddle-sores. The Tibetans are notoriously callous in their treatment of their animals, and, so long as it does not interfere with the efficiency of the animals, do not seem to care what horrible sight the saddle and blankets may cover. It was always a trial to my patience to see at each rest-house the cruel way in which the transport animals were loaded and unloaded. With other people’s affairs I had nothing to do, but I determined to make the lot of our own creatures as easy as possible, and when the others were engaged in packing up our things, the syce and I always did what we could for the mules. I had ordered the servants to purchase in Kampa Dzong what- ever local remedies for saddle-sores might be used in Tibet, and on this morning I found that they had purchased for the purpose a tin of well-known English make of black shoe-polish ! —-shoe-cream being one of the things the Tibetan merchants bring back with them from Kalimpong. The Tibetan boots being made, for the most part, entirely of wool, and coloured red, the natives have no need for any kind of shoe-cream for its ordinary purpose, but the superstition has grown up that it is useful for saddle-sores, and in the larger Tibetan towns it is occasionally to be found in the market for this reason. I must confess that I had grave doubts as to its efficiency, and would have preferred ordinary vaseline, but there was nothing else available and, after washing out the sores, we dabbed them over with the blacking. This was destined to give us one further inconvenience. What in the daytime served as saddle blankets were used as blankets for ourselves at night, so that the blacking which came off on to the blankets was bound to transfer itself to our clothes as time went on. But in Tibet, the paradise of filth, a little extra black makes a very trifling difference one way or the other. Now that we were alone, I thought of washing my face and hands at least before starting on the day’s journey, but even this prudence forbade. We were likely to touch another village later on in the day, and in case the peasants were to see me without that grime which comes only with a long abstinence from ablutions, their suspicions might be aroused, and so, LIFE ON THE PLAINS 133 following my servants’ example, I set out, though ‘reluctantly, in all my accumulation of filth. As our track lay across the open plain, the first part of our march proved fairly easy, though I noticed the bed of the plain was not as even as that of the Kampa or Tuna plains. It rolled slightly up and down hill, and was occasionally eaten away into ravines by some long-extinct rivers. Judging by the number of such dry river-beds which I saw in this land, one is compelled to believe that at some time the climate of Tibet Was much moister than at present. I later found, after careful inquiry and observation, that even in summer, which is the wet season of Tibet? the rainfall is so scanty that hardly a trickle passes over the river-beds which look as if they had been hollowed out by mighty streams. Under the influence of the desolate plains and the dry river- beds, I waxed very pessimistic that morning, and called to mind the many other places in which man seems to be fighting a losing battle with nature. All the great deserts seem to be gradually widening their boundaries. In Africa, in America, and in Australia, the deserts are slowly eating into the pasture- land. In the highlands of Asia this devastation appears to be encroaching even more rapidly. Just north of Tibet, in Chinese Turkestan and in Mongolia, this transformation presents itself as a tragedy of civilization. There the explorer everywhere comes across ruins which show that, only a few hundred years ago, prosperous kingdoms existed endowed with magnificent palaces and sparkling fountains—phantom civilizations they were, for now not only are the palaces deserted, but for the most part they are also covered and obliterated with the sands carried on the death-bearing winds of the ever-encroaching desert. In one of the depressions in the plain we found the main camp of our nomad friends of the preceding day. This consisted of four or five tents, coloured black and made out of yak-skins. These tents are very picturesque, and I was very anxious to purchase one, more particularly as I should not have had any hesitation in erecting one for the use of our party every night, for it would have attracted no particular attention from the casual observer, while our white linen tent, of course, would be at once an object of curious inquiry. The nomads were very 134 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE much surprised at our request for a tent, and refused on any consideration to sell us one. It was interesting to contrast these primitive tent-dwellers with the more sophisticated dwellers in the villages. Their communities are particularly important in certain circumscribed areas, however, and they live a freer, more open life than the townsman or villagers. Out on the hillsides and over the moors they pasture great flocks and herds, their livestock including yaks, sheep, goats, and ponies. In the Rudro, Ngari Khorsum, and the Dro-to districts of Western Tibet, praétically the whole of the inhabitants belong to the nomad tribes of herdsmen, the only exceptions being monks and Government officials. Some live in villages during the winter, and: in Western Tibet the herdsmen retire to their stone-built huts for shelter when the hard weather begins. In places these winter encampments, however, consist of encircling walls and stone defences against wind and snow, inside which the tents are erected in deep excavations ; elsewhere, certain tribes have hewn large galleries in the rocky hillsides. These are entered by narrow holes, but inside it is roomy, lofty, and warm. In summer one comes across the Dro-pas in all parts of the country on the higher plateaux, where pasturage is to be found for the cattle. Their picturesque encampments of black tents, decorated with yaks’ tails and prayer-flags, are very interesting. Each tribe clings to a particular district, or de, and each tent houses a separate family. These tents are made of black canvas, very coarse in texture, which is spun from yak’s hair ; hides are sometimes used. Along the centre, at the top, runs a six-inch aperture through which the smoke escapes ; at the entrance of the tent a more or less rude shrine is placed, and inside there is room for twenty or more persons to sleep. The clay-built stove and oven occupy the centre, and round this assembles the whole family. The chieftain’s tent, in comparison with the others, is well appointed, and one may find imported wares, tobacco, and tea inside. The nomads live pretty well, for their flocks supply them with ample food and material for clothing. Yak-flesh and mutton, ~ always boiled, are in plentiful supply, butter and cheese are available, for the Tibetans do not drink fresh milk, and always allow it to curdle or make it into cheese and butter. Parched LIFE ON THE PLAINS 135 barley made up into soft balls in tea generally, is a staple food- stuff. Far better off are these nomads than the average urban dweller, for even the poorest has a small flock, while oft-times a family tent will own up to fifteen hundred head of cattle, goats, sheep, yak, and ponies. From the wool of the long-fleeced sheep (there are four species of sheep in Tibet), which is rarely exported, and the soft under-wool of goats, etc., clothes and rugs are made, while this latter is exported, and is utilized in making the famous soft Kashmir shawls. The,dress is a sheepskin robe with the wool on, bound round the waist by a yak-hair girdle ; the women, in addition, wearing woollen petticoats and striped shawls, with traditional head- dress (the form depending on the district) which is profusely bedecked with coral and turquoise. The women, too, have an advantage over their village sisters, in that they do very little field-work, and attend to their homes ; the heavy labour is the sphere of the men. Throughout Central Tibet, covering the provinces of U and Tsang, the nomads wander between town and village, encamp- ing wherever possible, probably on a ledge up the hillside where, from their tents, they can command a view of their pasturing flock, and at the same time be somewhat free from molestation. They cover the land south of Lake Yamdro, the districts adjoining the frontiers of Nepal and Bhutan, and far away in the extensive pastoral area, a hundred to two hundred miles north-east of Lhasa, where the whole country is covered by the tribes of these folk. While within its district the tribe is an entity, the families split up and roam about independently, but rarely, except in the case of the marauding nomads, do they overstep the confines of their territory. Some of these families do not retire to special fastnesses during the winter months, but merely strengthen their tents and dig themselves in. Taxes are paid by the Dro-pas in cattle and ponies, also in butter and coin on their flocks, while they must provide transport animals for the monasteries and Government officials. But some of the wilder tribes ignore these tax claims. The Horpa tribes north-east of Lhasa sometimes leave their pastoral pursuits and go off on mounted raids into neighbouring territories and along the highways. Sometimes a gang, which 136 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE may number up to ten score, will range over hundreds of miles of country, raiding and carrying off flocks and pillaging villages and travellers. The Rong-po Dro-pas, who live in the territory contiguous to U in the east, are a race of giants who have proved them- selves of sturdy character in the wars. Of an athletic bent, they add hunting to their occupations of agriculture and horse-breeding, while the Gya-de tribes of the eastern and east-central districts, who practise polygamy, and not polyandry, by the way, and raise large families, live in permanent tent encampments, raising large flocks of sheep and milch-yaks. Altogether the Dro-pas tribes, as a people and for their peculiar customs and habits, provide one of the most interesting features of Tibetan life. After a few minutes’ conversation with these interesting nomad folk we went on our way across the plain. About noon we came to a small lake which, being very shallow, had com- pletely frozen over. Earlier in the day I had been rendered sorrowful by the absence of water. I was now to find the presence of water in the form of ice even more troublesome, for the glassy surface of the lake at which we had arrived presented a serious obstacle. The path lay directly over the ice, and so, sillily enough, instead of skirting the lake we embarked with all our animals upon the unstable footing of the slippery surface. One of our mules fell and badly sprained a leg. This was ‘‘ London,” the most gallant and hard-working of the three mules. I at first feared she had broken her leg and that we should have to cut her throat, but only a tendon had been strained, and a few minutes later she was pluckily limping on again. Poor, faithful little old “‘ London,” how brave you were, exhausting all your strength struggling to keep up with the others, until a few days later, having come to the end of your tether, you lay down and died without a sign of complaint ! ““ London,” who was the first to cross, taught us a lesson, and as the other animals made their journey, Lhaten stood at the head and I at the tail of each, and whenever one slipped we held it up until it could find a footing again. At last, when we thought all was well, “ Satan ”’ slipped and had rather a nasty fall on the ice. His cumbersome attempts LIFE ON THE PLAINS 137 to get up were really so comical that all of the others, including myself, had to laugh. A man of very quick temper, he was rendered perfectly furious, and once on the other side I had the greatest difficulty in restraining him from physical violence. It is an interesting commentary upon human nature that ridicule seems to be the cause of more deep-seated anger than anything else. Warmed by our attempts to bring the animals safely over the ice, we stopped for a few minutes on the other side of the lake and took our midday meal. While we were resting there a merchant caravan with some twenty yaks came up to the lake on their way to Kampa Dzong. The merchants gave us but. scant attention, and after a brief hail started across the ice. It was interesting to see the slow, sure, and perfectly- poised way in which the yaks managed to get across. Great clumsy, awkward-looking brutes they are, but they seemed quite unconcerned at crossing the glassy surface, and lumbered along without the slightest suggestion of falling, though the ponies which the merchants were riding experienced the same difficulties as those undergone by our own animals a short time earlier. | The yak is in many ways a remarkable animal, and a whole book could be written about it. This beast is found wild as well as in domestic service. There are several species and crosses. The cross between yak bull and the Indian cow is the beast in largest demand, being found throughout Tibet in domestic service, farm-work, and transport. The wild yak is a sturdy beast rather like the American bison or so-called “ buffalo,’ with a large heavy head which the beast bears close to the ground. The back slopes down to the tail, and the flanks are draped with long thick wool which reaches down to the ground, the underpart of the belly, which is practically bare, being protected from the cold in this way. The hoofs are large and cleft as suitable for climbing, while the strange tongue is armed with barbs enabling the beast to tear off and masticate the coarse herbage on which it feeds —lichens, camel’s-thorn, mosses, and suchlike. A bull will measure 11 feet from head to tail-root and stand 5 feet high at the shoulders. Horns, points forward, will measure over 30 inches. The tame yaks and crossbreeds are smaller. 138 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE This splendid beast is very surefooted though slow, and will climb the toughest way like a goat. It roams in herds, some- times with the wild ass and antelope, over vast tracks. In the winter it scrambles up the mountain-sides far above the snow- line, rooting out mosses and such stuff from under the snow. Once we had recovered our breath and had disposed of our meal, we hastened on again, for the wind began to blow in an alarming fashion, the sky, which in the morning had been so clear, became murky, and evil-looking clouds seemed to threaten some kind of storm. We wanted to get on as far as possible before any radical change in the weather might hinder our march. : | | “ Satan ’’ continued in a bad temper the whole afternqon. He had been rendered irritable by the hardships of the last several days. The ridicule he had suffered as the result of his slip was the last straw, and he continued to make numerous insolent remarks. I could not afford to break with him, and so was forced to keep the peace in spite of the fact that he was already talking of giving information to the authorities. Before long we came to the other side of the plain, and it looked as if we had another mountain range to cross before dusk should come upon us, when suddenly we saw a narrow opening in the mountains divide ahead of us which led directly into another plain a few hundred feet higher than the one on which we were standing, and which, instead of being level, was tilted slightly, forming a long shelving upward slope. More or less at the junction of these two plains we found the important village of Kuma, seemingly a thriving community, and though without a castle, it was the largest settlement which we had yet come across. Seeing that we had with us suffi- cient supplies for the future and had therefore no need for further purchases, I wished to pass by this village unnoticed, as I had heard it was the residence of several Government officials ; but though we did not stop, we were not lucky enough to escape attention. : The dogs alone, on seeing us, made enough noise to awaken the dead. Tibet abounds with dogs. The natives have no conception of breeding or racial purity as regards their animals, so that the dogs are weird mongrels of a hundred known and unknown breeds. Apart from a few pet dogs kept by the LIFE ON THE PLAINS 139 aristocratic families in Shigatsé and Lhasa, all Tibetan dogs fall under two main categories, scavengers and watchdogs, both of which are found in great numbers in every village. The scavengers are all hopelessly hungry-looking animals, usually of a light-brown colour. They are left free to prowl about at will, but seem to have been divested of every form of moral or physical courage, and with furtive eye and drooping tail slink around the family courtyard. They are really despic- able curs. The only thing one can find to say in their favour is that as scavengers they are really effective, as there is nothing, no matter how filthy, which they refuse to eat. The watchdogs are of an entirely different build, larger and stronger, with a much longer coat, generally black. They are always chained up in front of the great gateway which leads into the courtyard, and thus lead a life of perpetual captivity. They bark vigorously at the approach of any stranger, and generally make a bloodcurdling attempt to bite as well. These dogs are purposely underfed in order to keep them in a savage temper. Kuma is a trade centre which depends a good deal upon catering to the Tibetan merchants passing to and fro on their journeys, and as in winter times are slack, a number of rest- house keepers came out to secure our custom when the dogs warned them of our approach. These touts were by no means pleased when we told them that we were not stopping. They told us there was no other village for many miles farther on, for which I was not sorry, and we persisted in our story that we had to push on to Shigatsé owing to urgent business. This did not seem to satisfy them, and one or two uncomplimentary phrases were hurled at us. Not that we minded this greatly ; much more unpleasant was the fact that a shepherd fell in with us and said he would accompany our party until he came to his hut, a mile or so farther on. His unsolicited company proved more disquieting, as he insisted on carrying on a lengthy conversation with me personally. A man of very humble origin, he did not presume to address any remarks to “ Satan,” the supposed master, and both Lhaten and the syce exhibited a coldness which he could only imagine came from a dislike to exchanging pleasantries with a poor shepherd. So he turned his attentions to ‘‘ Diogenes”? and me, as obviously the 140 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE humblest members of the party. Poor ‘‘ Diogenes ’”’ was never very brilliaht at conversation, and so, very unwillingly, I had to shoulder the responsibility of the dialogue, though I made frank signs to “‘ Satan ”’ to come back and relieve me of my task —signs which he completely ignored. I had long since reached a point in my Tibetan studies where practically every word which I heard was intelligible to me, and my own Tibetan was always understandable and compara- tively fluent, but I was afraid that the misuse of some word or false intonation might betray me. The intonation was the important point, because, unlike any so-called Aryan language, Tibetan, in common with the other South Mongolian languages such as Burmese and Siamese, and with Chinese, a Central Mongolian language, makes constant use of various tones to indicate changes of meaning. In Chinese, as is generally well known, several words can be phonetically spelled and pronounced exactly alike, but can have entirely different meanings according to whether they have a rising or falling intonation, etc. The Tibetan tones are some- what differently arranged. In conversation the pitch of the voice varies, each word having a tone in which it should be pronounced, but it is the initial letter, or sometimes the silent prefixed letter, which governs the tone. Grammarians distinguish six tones, but for practical purposes these may be reduced to three—the high, the medium, and the low tones. Thus, for example, Tibetan has three letters ( "7, T24T. ) which in the modern colloquial sound like our letter # (all three are so rendered in the present book), but the first is given a high pitch, and is pronounced with the tongue between the teeth, the second is given a medium pitch and is strongly aspirated, the third is given a low pitch and is pronounced through the throat. Similarly, there are in Tibetan three kinds of #’s, or #’s, and ch’s and ¢s’s, two kinds of s’s, and two kinds of sh’s. In speaking Tibetan it is very important that all these distinctions be observed. Not wishing to show our shepherd friend too many of my tone exercises, I was as laconic in my replies as possible, and assumed my role of a dull, stupid, vacant-minded peasant, to whom any great conversational effort was a serious mental strain. He seemed quite content to find a good listener, LIFE ON THE PLAINS I4I chattering gaily on, scarcely waiting for an answer, and any divergences on my part from his conception of standard Tibetan vocabulary or accent he put down to dialectical peculiarity. All the time he was with us he busied himself spinning yarns, both metaphorically and literally, for he occupied his hands spinning a large wad of wool into. a coarse thread, which his wife would later on weave into cloth. This yarn was spun with the aid of a curious little bobbin which he kept swinging round and round. This is a favourite occupation of the Tibetan peasant men when they are on tramp’or with their herds. It serves a useful economic purpose, and at the same time gives them some way of occupying their minds during the long idle hours when tending their flocks, which require so little supervision. Our companion, whose presence had proved so unacceptable at first, really amused me with his guileless chatter, and I felt genuinely sorry when he came to his hut and he left us with his “ Kalepe a”’ (it. Please go slowly), the usual polite parting phrase in Tibet. We had felt so sure of being able to follow the track that we had neglected to ask him for directions, and found ourselves puzzled when we came to a place where the trail split into three, leading in widely-different directions. Not knowing which to choose, we at length followed the usual Buddhist course and chose “ the middle way.’ Following it for several miles, with ever-increasing difficulty and discomfort—for the day had grown murkier and colder than ever and the devastating afternoon gale drove straight against us—at length we met a small party of peasants bringing some yaks into Kuma. Their information told us we had battled several hours with the wind uselessly, because for once the middle way was not the proper way, and we should have taken the route to the right. Kindly, simple souls, these peasants became quite excited over our troubles, and told us how we might cut across the sloping plain and get back on to our road without having to retrace our steps. One, a toothless old grandmother, who was perched on top of a yak, took pity on “ Diogenes ”’ and me, who were obviously not only the humblest but also the most miserable members of our party, and offered us a drink of the 142 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE chang, or a eas she was carrying. For once, in spite of my teetotal intentions, I accepted with alacrity. Another hour’s weary trudging brought us back on our road, and we continued along it until we were ready to drop from utter weariness and misery, eventually halting at a dreary desolate spot only some ten miles beyond Kuma, so much time had we lost by taking the false direction. A few flakes of snow fell and, looking back from our elevated position, we could see that a real snowstorm was taking place on the pass by which we had entered Tibet. Had we been but three days longer in the mountains, we should certainly have perished in the snow. I was thankful for our deliverance from the danger of the pass, but certainly our present position was heart-breaking enough. Not daring to pitch our tent, we were exposed to the full fury of the windstorm, which brought with it the greatest cold we had yet experienced. Worst of all, we could not find even yak-dung, and were unable to light a fire, so that we were even without that Tibetan tea which cheers the soul. We had become frightfully thirsty, and though we had encamped by a tiny rivulet, the water of this was frozen fast, so that the only way we could quench our thirst was by chipping off pieces of ice and letting these melt in our mouths. The night was even more miserable. We tried desperately to get to sleep, but after every few minutes’ uneasy dozing we would be awakened by an extra gust of icy wind, which penetrated right through the blankets. Poor ‘‘ Diogenes’ moaned the whole night, owing to the agony he suffered from his frostbitten feet. It was too much to expect human nature to stand such misery, and I was not surprised when, shortly after midnight, “Satan ’’ announced his intention of abandoning the project. The other servants, unfortunately, were awake and for once joined their voices in favour of ‘‘ Satan’s”’ declaration. Considering our obvious discomfort, it was a bad time to attempt to argue with them, so in the end I was forced to compromise. I pointed out that their physical suffering originated only from the fact that they were sleeping out in the open, and that if they were to spend each night in a village, where they could find food, drink, fire, and shelter, they would LIFE ON THE PLAINS 143 have nothing to fear, and that even if we gave up the project, it would be impossible to return to Sikkim immediately, as the passes were now definitely closed. After some argument they agreed to carry on, if the plan of halting each stage at some village were carried out. This, of course, would enormously increase the chances of detection. Each day I would come under the surveillance of the villagers, but I felt that I could no longer expose my servants to such privations as we hadendured. Furthermore, I felt emboldened by the Success of my disguise. Already I had met and talked with numerous Tibetans, who seemed to notice nothing unusual about my appearance orf speech. Peace and unanimity were thus once more restored to our party. By acurious coincidence _ the bitter wind, the immediate cause of our misery, died down very shortly after that, and we were able to get a little real slumber. CHAPTER XIII ON TO SHIGATSE WE had made most excellent plans to start early on our journey, but all of us were still sound asleep when the sun arose, and I was awakened to find a strange Tibetan face peering into mine. I was astounded and thought that through some treachery we were discovered, yet I still had enough gumption to pretend to go back to sleep again, for in the night I had taken off my dark goggles, and I was, therefore, afraid to let anyone get too close a view of my eyes without this protection. My sudden alarm proved groundless. The strangers were an old man and his son who were on their way to Shigatsé. They had halted the previous night at Kuma, and having started early in the morning, had caught up with us soon after sunrise. Being surprised to find a party sleeping in the open, they had come up to make inquiries. Lhaten told them we had lost the way the preceding evening, and consequently were so delayed that we had been unable to get to the next village, and had slept out. He spoke feelingly of the miserable night we had spent in the open. Our visitors did not stay long, but on leaving said that they were halting a mile or two farther on to eat and rest, and that we should probably catch them up. Half an hour later we had packed everything up and were on our way, though I felt in a very depressed mood. It was impossible to go back on my promise to my servants, but I felt that under the new conditions which were to await us I had very little chance of ever getting to Lhasa. I felt all the sufferings we had undergone had been in vain, and the only thing to be done was to penetrate as far as possible into the country before I was discovered. 144 ON TO SHIGATSE 145 The morning was very misty ; often it was impossible to see more than a few paces ahead. Then for a moment the mist suddenly lifted and we saw coming towards us a number of riders armed with swords and with rifles, followed by a large caravan of yaks! At first the caravan smacked of something official, but the consequent apprehension was misfounded, for the cavalcade turned out to be a peaceful trading-party only, though, even so, to be on the safe side, I knelt down and pretended to attend to my boots as they came by, so that my face should be hidden. The presence of the armed men was easily explained. Where- as the villagers in Tibet are more or less under control, the Government officials have not yet managed to imbue the outlying nomads with any lively conception of discipline, and they are always prone to turn highway robbers. Consequently, when a caravan containing merchandise of any value is destined to go over territory outside the influence of the towns, well- armed guards are always employed to protect it. The hasty glimpse I got of this party showed me that the swords were all of native design. The inhabitants of Central Tibet have never shown any great aptitude for design or crafts- manship, and most of the daggers and knives of Tibet come from Nepal, from Bhutan, or from Kam, the great semi- independent province which lies between Tibet proper and China. The rifles, on the other hand, were of modern and European design. Of recent years a great many modern rifles have found their way from India into Tibet—some legally and some illegally. In addition, the Tibetans are now busy manufactur- ing such rifles in Tibet itself. Even before 1904 the Tibetan Government had established a small arsenal in Lhasa, where quite creditable imitations of European rifles were made, chiefly based on samples secured from Russia, and such guns were in the hands of some of the soldiers who fought against the Younghusband Expedition. Since 1912 the arsenal has been very considerably expanded, and now turns out a number of rifles every year! Some of these imitations, which later fell into my hands, I found to be very exact, so exact, in fact, that even the nameplate of the original European makers had been copied. K 146 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE I was able to catch only a fleeting glimpse of the loads which the yaks were carrying, but from the size and shapes of the bundles it was pretty obvious that they mostly contained wool, barley, flour, boxes of brick-tea, and salt. The last three articles were probably for consumption in and around Kampa Dzong, for they have little or no export value. Nearly all the tea used by the Tibetans in every part of the country comes from China. It is compressed into bricks, which make the tea much easier to transport, but it was curious to find tea coming to Kampa Dzong from distant China, when excellent tea is grown in Darjeeling and many parts of Sikkim. Such is the power of custom that this nearer and far more delicate tea is never imported. The barley was more explicable, - for even the villagers in the neighbourhood of Kampa Dzong depend largely upon the flocks for their livelihood. Though a certain amount of barley is grown, the climate is too cold and the altitude is too high to make any form of agriculture particu- larly successful. In some places the barley plant never fully ripens, and on the approach of the bad weather has to be plucked green and used merely as fodder for the animals during the winter months. The environs of Kampa Dzong, being essentially grazing- land, produce more than enough wool for all local purposes, but Kampa Dzong itself is one of the places from which wool gathered from every part of Tibet is, in the summer months, sent down to Sikkim and India, where it commands very high prices, for Tibetan wool is very nearly the best. The reason for this is that the terrible cold of Tibet has forced nearly all animals that live there to grow a curious sort of inner coat of a fine and silky nature, which lies close to the skin and keeps out a great deal of the biting wind which penetrates the outer coat. Although nearly all the animals, including the dogs, grow this soft silk wool, it is particularly luxuriant on the yak, the sheep, and the goats, and can be used for commercial purposes. Owing to its silk-like texture it is much prized by the natives of the surrounding countries. Most of the wool caravans go over the Gyangtsé—Pari— Yatung—Kalimpong route, but here there is practically a monopoly which kills all competition, and many of the smaller traders prefer to use Kampa Dzong as the export base. ON TO SHIGATSE 147 Incidentally I was told that a good deal of smuggling has been going on since 1912, when the Chinese-Tibetan customs office was abolished. India and Tibet have established absolute free trade, and there is no import duty levied on either side ; but the Tibetan Government, in a desperate attempt to secure money for its new enterprises, levies a tax of 5 trangka on every bale of wool that is sold, and in many cases this tax is only extorted at the frontier stations as a sort of port duty. It is payment of this tax that the smugglers try to avoid. The salt used in Tibet is derived in nearly all cases from the saline crustations surrounding many of the lakes. In most cases the natives use it exactly as they find it, with no attempt at .purification ; consequently one frequently finds with it grains of sand, and in many cases it contains mixtures of salts other than the common sodium chloride, or ordinary table-salt. For this reason Tibetan salt has frequently a peculiarly acrid and bitter taste. Finally, one finds it sold in fairly large crys- tals, which makes it difficult to be sprinkled over food, but which does not interfere with the principal Tibetan use of it, which is to boil it with their tea. We went on steadily uphill for some time after leaving the caravan which had aroused our fears without seeing anyone else, and I began to think that, after all, we would be spared meeting the two traders who had awakened us that morning. But just as I had come to the conclusion that they had gone on ahead without waiting for us, we came in sight of a deserted, ruined stone house, and found that this served as the halting- place of our friends. They hailed us as we came up, and we again stopped for a few minutes’ conversation. Learning that we were going to Shigatsé on pilgrimage, they suggested that we continue the journey together, Shigatsé being their home place, to which they were returning after a visit to a relative in Kampa Dzong. | Such a proposition is not unusual in Tibet, for owing to their fear of brigands, small parties do not like to make a long journey alone, and where small groups of travellers are unable to hire armed guards such as we had seen that morning, it is usual for them to join together in order to make a show of bigger numbers and thereby frighten away the less bold, or isolated, brigands. 148 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Personally, I was not so much afraid of brigands as of the law-abiding Tibetans, but thought that at least, if these two friendly travellers were with us, we should no longer have any fear of again losing our way. I was still very loath to come into such close personal touch with Tibetans, which would not allow me to relax my disguise for a single minute, even when on the road. Only two days previously I had made a great scene when I found the Kampa Dzong coolies had been added to our party. Much had happened in the short space of time which had elapsed, and I felt much surer of myself and of my disguise. Still, I would certainly have rejected our present companions’ offer had it been possible to discovet a satisfactory excuse. The matter was taken out of my hands, however, by “‘ Satan.” During the last day or two he had waxed rather independent, and had found the réle of master so congenial that he decided to play the part in earnest. Without even so much as a glance at me to see how I wanted things to go, he accepted the Tibetans’ proffered companionship, and as it was obviously impos- sible for me to make an open protest, we waited another few minutes until our new companions had time to reload the horse which they had with them to carry their loads, for they them- selves were walking the whole way, and pushed on together. I was rather sorry for this, for if they, like “ Satan,’’ had been riding there would have been less need for me to come into personal contact with them. While they were thus busy with their loads, I quickly made up my mind as to the best way to meet the new situation. I whispered to Lhaten that I and the syce would go on and try to keep ahead of the main party the whole day. Lhaten was to follow on with our new companions, tell our prearranged story, and inform them that I was a little queer in “‘the upper story.” Incidentally, I added that he was never to leave ‘‘ Satan ’’ alone with them, as I had already suspicions that the scamp might attempt to betray me. By this arrangement I felt that there would be less danger of detection than if I remained in closer contact with the party all the time. Until about noon the road continued uphill, though nearly always with the same gentle incline, a formation which I believe to be very rare in Tibet. We came eventually to the _ON TO SHIGATSE 149 apex of the slope, marked, as usual, by a pair of shrines with rags and prayer-flags attached to them. We added our stones to the votive pile, duly invoked the gods, and passed over to the other side, where our descent began. The pass marks the watershed of this part of Tibet. Upto this time all the streams, when they did not evaporate on the open plains, joined the rivers that pierced the Himalayas and penetrated directly into India. The river which we arrived at on the other side—a stream of important size, considering how néar it was to its source—ran down to the great river of Tibet, the Brahmaputra, which may be called the life-artery of Tibet, for it runs diagonally across the country many hundreds of miles, and nearly all of Tibet’s cities are placed either on this river or on one of its tributaries. Shigatsé and Gyangtsé are on the Nyang, and Lhasa on the Kyi River, both of which empty into the Brahmaputra. I felt, therefore, that we had really entered the heart of Tibet once we had crossed the watershed. The portion of the country drained by the Brahmaputra is the most fertile part of Tibet, and I could feel, as soon as we started the descent, that it was four or five degrees warmer. We had now come to an entirely different kind of country. Instead of the broad, flat plains, we found a valley, a valley which gradually widened out, but from which the mountains rose sharply on either side, in a more or less parallel direction, contrasting with the plains that seem to be enclosed on all four sides by mountains. Geographically the Tibetans divide their country into three main types. These are known as Kong, or valley type, the Dro, or the flat pasturage type, and the Tang, or desert-plain type of country. The Rong type, naturally, is found in the more mountainous part of the country, and consists of the narrow, but frequently well cultivated, valleys and gorges which lie between mountain ranges. Both the Dro and Tang types are broad plains or flat-bottomed basins, but are dis- tinguished from one another in that the lower plains, which are more fertile and can support a large number of flocks, are called Dro, or pasturage country, while the higher and bleaker plains retain the title of Tang. The change in scenery which we noticed, therefore, indicated 150 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE that we had emerged from the Tang to the Rong type of country. The Rong district, particularly between Shigatsé and Lhasa, contains numerous villages and monasteries. It is a rugged land of steep ridges, ravines, and wild waterways, difficult to traverse on account of the bare, forbidding mountains which have to be crossed, and the dark narrow gorges. Yet within this seemingly unfriendly tract the people are industrious and happy, with villages grouped on ledges on the hillsides, and sometimes along the sides of a valley, particularly at the juncture of one river with another where the alluvial soil provides profitable cultivation. The abundance of water, and the rich, raised earth-beds washed up alongside the rivers, and possibly the protective nature of the broken country, make the Rong districts a favourite stretch for village settle- ments. The Dro country, the territory of the semi-nomadic Dro-pas, with their herds and flocks, lies chiefly in the southern part of Tibet, but carries away to Dro-de, north-east of Lhasa, which, in a district 150 to 200 miles of the capital, is surrounded by a very beautiful country with wide and fertile valleys fairly intensively cultivated and watered by large rivers. The Dro districts are mainly tracts of heath and moorland, sometimes very wild and bleak, with huge mountains which rise up straight from the valleys and run rugged spurs from all angles into the surrounding plains. Bogs and swamps abound in parts, and dangerous gulches and crags. The soil is of a dark, peaty nature, bearing a coarse herbage and some shrubs, and near the rivers willow and poplar trees. In favoured spots a wealth of beautiful flowers may be seen for four months of the year, between the snow periods, and also juniper and stunted firs. Small towns and villages are dotted about here and there, but are not nearly so frequently met with as in the Rong districts. Summer lasts for four months. In October the snows come and the whole aspect of the land is changed. Through the winds the snows are driven and frozen hard, and throughout the bleak winter the only life is that of hares and foxes, a few antelope here and there, the wild ass and yak, which will be seen high upon some rocky ledge routing round in sheltered ON TO SHIGATSE Ist nooks for the scant herbage on which they subsist during this drear period. The herdsmen withdraw from the plains and upland pastures to the stone-built huts, or to the villages, with the domestic cattle, leaving the land to the wild life and stray wayfarers. | The great tract of country in the west of Tibet is known as the Tang territory, a region of wide steppes, rising out of which, particularly in the more westerly portion, are formidable mountains. The plains are really wide, shallow valleys bounded by steep hills, the valleys being anything from fifteen to forty miles in length. From the hill-tops as far as the eye can reach appear vast bare and _ desolate-looking even stretches, perhaps broken by a river and shallow lakes. The lakes are mostly salt, and fringing them are whitish borders where the evaporated water has left deposits of sodas and salts. The soil, broken up into a flaky substance, powders into a light, sandy nature, with occasional patches of dirty white where clay is uncovered. The lakes and swamps between latitude 33° and 82° E. are in the midst of a dry region where the soil is covered with saltpetre. There is scant vegetation and slight herbage only in the deeper, damper valley beds, and in places it is absolutely bare. A coarse grass south of latitude 33° and at an altitude of 15,000 feet supports the tame cattle of the Changpas, as the natives of this region are called, and also provides food for the wild asses and antelope, and there is here also a broad belt of fertile pastures running for — about forty miles where thick grasses, wild rhubarb, and other herbs are found. Then, again, in the saline valleys to the north, where slabs of salt lie about on the surface, grass of a - coarse quality occurs, and still farther northward somewhat luxuriant herbage serves as efficient pasturage for herds of wild animals. Here too the summer is short, and a severe winter period sets in early, changing entirely the aspect of the land. But the saline lakes do not freeze, even though the surrounding land and fast-flowing rivers are frostbound in a cold which will descend to 45° below zero. The appearance of these unfrozen lakes is rendered then even more curious by the fact that the hot springs which occur near the lakes, generally of the gusher type, are frozen into hard crystal columns of ice, 152 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE, In this regard it should be noted, however, that the higher plateau of Chang-tang (or Plains of the North) are at an altitude of anything from 15,000 to 17,300 feet above sea-level. I was glad that I had not in my fright rushed on ahead alone, but had brought the syce with me, as we met several natives on our way down the valley, with whom an occasional word was necessary. I let the syce do most of the talking, and contented myself with throwing in a remark when I felt on safe ground. In the excitement of the morning I had quite forgotten to get out any food from our common stock, but in the load which I was carrying there was a small sack of barley-flour, and filling our tea-bowls full of water from the icy‘stream, the syce and I mixed up the barley-flour to form a paste and with this sparse food we had to be satisfied for the rest of the day. We were fortunate that afternoon in having very little wind, and consequently made much quicker progress than had been possible the preceding day. About four o’clock a bend in the valley brought before our eyes a village some three or four miles away. This I knew was the place where we were to halt for the evening. The syce and I waited until the others came up, as I certainly did not want to have the unpleasant task of searching out a lodging and bargaining over the amount to be paid. We had obviously done our march at a pretty good rate, for it was nearly half an hour before our party arrived. When they did come up I asked the gyepo, or old man, the elder of our two com- panions, where we were to stay for the night. He answered that there was one lodging in the village in which he always stayed, and being known there he could get things cheaper. So he and his son now led the way, and the members of my party followed. I pulled Lhaten aside and with him dropped even farther behind, as I wanted to find how things had gone during the day, and also to give certain orders as to what I wanted done during the coming evening in the rest-house, where, of course, [ could no longer directly issue orders. This took longer than I expected, and when we arrived at the village, the name of which I discovered was Yako, I found that our party had already dis- appeared into somerest-house courtyard. Iwas very angry that they had not left a rearguard to tell us where to go, as it meant that Lhaten and I had to wander around the whole village ON TO SHIGATSE | 153 and ask at several places before we came to the rest-house which they had entered. At the entrance to the rest-house there was the usual watchdog, who sprang out at us in a very threatening way. Being in rather an irritable mood, I raised the whip which I was carrying, but before I delivered a single blow I noticed that the dog cowered down and slunk into his kennel. This struck me as particularly humorous, because it showed that the Tibetan dogs are like the Tibetan men— fierce and threatening creatures, whose main idea is to terrorize all around them, but like most bullies arrant cowards at heart. On entering the courtyard we found that the syce and ““ Diogenes ’’ were busy’ unloading the mules and that the younger of our companions was helping them, an act of kindness which I had not expected, so that without more ado Lhaten and I went on to the rest-house common-room and began preparing the food for that night. This was my first real experience of a Tibetan rest-house— in Kampa Dzong I had merely slept for an hour or two on the roof—so I was much interested in observing how such places wererun. The Tibetans, strangely enough, are great travellers within the limits of their own country, and nearly every village has at least one rest-house, and sometimes two or three, where such travellers can stay for the night and find food and drink. At the same time such places differ a great deal from any European equivalent, having little in common with even the old village tavern or inn, which has come to us from time immemorial. On the great high-roads, along which Govern- ment couriers and officials are constantly being sent, certain places are appointed as official rest-houses and are more elaborately equipped, but along the minor high-roads, such as the one on which we were travelling, the accommodation is very primitive. The house is properly a private dwelling. The male members of the family engage in ordinary occupations, such as agriculture, and the hostel side of the business is run by the female department, the chief woman of the family acting as the all-important nemo, or landlady. The animals are, of course, cared for in the great courtyard. The travellers are expected to attend to the loading and unloading of their own packs, and must also look after giving the animals food and drink. The water in this house was 154 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE supplied by a well in the middle of the courtyard, while the fodder was to be purchased from the rest-house stores. This consisted, needless to say, entirely of barley—a small amount of barley-grain plus a much larger amount of the dried barley- stalks. Any grooming of the animals that is required has to be done by the travellers or their servants. In our case this business was attended to by the syce aided by “ Diogenes.”’ If the traveller is very wealthy, or possesses sufficiently high official rank, he and his party are given a private chamber, but in other cases all the travellers share a large communal room, in which they rest, eat, drink, and sleep. Here we found the common-room to be on the first floor, with no window over- looking the village outside, but with a huge opening—to be closed at night with a wooden shutter—overlooking the court- yard below, where, therefore, we could see how our animals were faring. The shutters were already half closed, so that it was very dark in the room, a fact which I appreciated very much, as it allowed me to go about my duties as Lhaten’s assistant without very much fear of detection, and I was able to lay aside my dark goggles. By good luck we found only one other party in the rest-house, a group of four people, and as they seemed to be occupied with their own affairs, after a brief exchange of greetings we were able to ignore them. The room contained no furniture of any kind. Both the walls and floor were void of any covering. The floor consisted of bare ground, though the corners of the room were filled with the bales of the more valuable portion of the loads which we and the other travellers had brought along inside, for petty theft is very common in Tibet, and every traveller wishes to keep his valuables as near to him as possible. Shortly after our arrival the xemo, or landlady, brought in a small iron tripod, and on it an iron brazier with holes in order to secure a draught. Filled with yak-dung intermixed with a few barley-straws, this was lighted by means of a tinder box, and we were now in a position to proceed with the preparation of our evening meal. Cooking in these rest-houses is left entirely to the travellers themselves, for in no case is the rest-house anything of a restaurant, though it is possible to buy raw supplies from the landlady. mo ON TO SHIGATSE 155 It can be seen that the occupation of a landlady at a Tibetan rest-house is in no way arduous. She has merely to provide the room and sell any general supplies which may be wanted. It is, therefore, quite obvious why every Tibetan traveller who can afford it goes along with a retinue of servants, for the work which would ordinarily be done by the servants of an inn in the West falls on the shoulders of the traveller’s personal attendants, if he feels it infra dig. to attend to such matters himself. In atidition to servants, moreover, the traveller in Tibet prefers to carry the major part of his food-supplies along with him, instead of buying ‘them at each rest-house at which he stops. The reason for this I could never fathom, except, per- haps, that, curiously enough, most food-supplies can be bought more cheaply in the larger cities than in the villages. As we had laid in a fairly large supply in Kampa Dzong, we were also able to follow Tibetan custom in this respect, and I noticed that our party, in common with our companions, had to purchase only fodder—barley-straw—for the animals, yak-dung for the fire, and chang, or beer, all of which were too bulky to carry conveniently along. If the accommodation in a Tibetan rest-house is poor, and service practically non-existent, yet we certainly could not complain as to the amount we had to pay as ela, or rent, which, apart from supplies purchased, was only a chegye, or half a trangka, approximately 1}d., and this for a party of five people ! Our two companions were too small a party to form a camp- fire of their own and so joined in our circle. This forced me to take a seat behind the others, for now that my goggles were off I was afraid that the light from the brazier might show up my eyes if I came too near. This position also allowed me to hear everything that was said without taking too active a part in the proceedings. The company sat talking and sipping chang some time after the meal was concluded. There were no chairs, of course, and the traveller sat either on the bare floor or on some of the saddle-carpets which they had brought with them. When the time came to break up, the nemo was called in and every- thing paid for, as we intended to start early the next morning before it was light. We then proceeded to prepare ourselves 156 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE for the night. Bedclothes are never furnished by the rest- house, so that every traveller in Tibet is forced to bring his own. This, of course, was no difficulty to us, for now that we were indoors and had no longer the cold night winds to contend with, the blankets we had with us sufficed, though, unfortu- nately, it was necessary to give “ Satan ”’ all of my blankets, while I had to take the place he had formerly held and share blankets with Lhaten. In place of a bed, a Tibetan carpet of conventional size—generally 54 feet by 2 feet—is spread out on the floor. Sometimes by the richer classes two or three of such carpets will be used, so as to counteract the hardness of the floor. Either no pillow at all is used, or else one of the saddles or smaller packs will be placed under the head. For covering there is the usual sheepskin blanket, the furry side being laid underneath, or next the body. Following Tibetan custom, all of us slept in our clothes, though the sash which acts as a belt is either loosened or completely discarded ; yet I noticed that one of two of the party in the other corner of the room preferred to follow a custom which is not uncommon among certain of the Dro-pas, or nomads, and stripped themselves stark naked, placing their clothes over them as an additional protection. The Dro-pas not infrequently sleep on their stomachs, sometimes with their knees drawn up under them in a curious crouching position, but I noticed that all of our party slept either on their backs or sides, but always stretched out straight. This, curiously enough, proved one of my greatest trials. I had long got into the habit of sleeping more or less curled up, so that when lying perfectly straight I found it difficult to get to sleep. But as I heard that sleeping with doubled-up legs was never done in Tibet, I was forced to try and accommodate myself to new conditions. Incidentally, as I was in possession of but half a blanket, any attempt at curling up meant that knees or feet were exposed to the bitter night cold. The next morning our two trader friends initiated us into the routine of true Tibetan travelling. I knew that we had agreed upon an early start, but I was certainly surprised when I woke up at two o’clock the next morning to find that the others were already up and making preparations for getting away. The Tibetans are accustomed to making incredibly long marches ON TO SHIGATSE 157 every day, and in order to cover the necessary distance they rise long before sunrise in order to get as much as possible of the march over before the afternoon winds set in. 7 a aa for departure proved very short and simple. We had not a mouthful to eat or drink before undertaking our long march. I have long been a convert to the “ continental breakfast ’’—a cup of coffee and a roll, instead of the porridge and ham and eggs with which most sturdy Britons load up their stomachs before beginning their work, so that I had no yearning for a heavy meal at that time of day, but I should certainly have welcomed a large bowl of tea as a stimulant. However, when I faintly suggested such a plan, it was at once negatived by our companions, and they were astonished that anyone should have thought of the idea. Needless to say, no time was wasted in washing. There were no facilities for doing so even if we had felt inclined. Most Tibetans never touch their bodies with water during the whole course of their lives, and become practically encased in a layer of fat and dirt which served the usual function of keeping out the cold. In this connection it may be added that from the time I entered Tibet until I entered Lhasa I found it impossible to wash even my hands or my face. Tibe- tans find the layer of dirt by no means objectionable, and are even proud of it. They believe that such a layer not only keeps the cold out, but also keeps the luck in, and in many parts of the country a young man wants to be sure that his bride-elect has not washed this luck-covering away. Not infrequently the natural layer will be supplemented by smearing the body with butter or sheep’s fat. As a final proof that washing brings bad luck, I was once, while in Gyangtsé, told the story of a young woman who thought she knew better than her elders and insisted on washing herself. The heavenly Buddhas and Bodhisattvas were evidently displeased with this unfilial presumption, and sent her an attack of pneumonia from which she died. As though conscious that some criticisms might be levelled against them, however, the Tibetans have a common proverb, ““The Tibetan is black outside but white inside, and the foreigner is white outside but black inside.” 158 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE On this particular morning we were greatly helped by the fact that the moon was shining very brightly, because other- wise we should have had the troublesome task of loading our mules in the dark ; but at the same time the night cold was so intense that our hands were numbed and it took some time for us to tie the straps together, for our fingers refused to perform their function. We then struck out on our journey, which continued down the narrow valley worn out by the Re River on its way down to the Brahmaputra. We had to cross and recross the’stream several times, but this offered no great difficulty, for the river was covered with very coarse and corroded ice, and was not very slippery. I did not feel it necessary to separate myself “seth our Tibetan companions as on the previous day. In the first place, in spite of the moonshine, it was very difficult to see one another’s face, and secondly, I had now established friendly relations with them, and having heard our story they were quite willing to accept us as they found us. I discovered these travellers to be extraordinarily kindly, simple, naive people, completely ignorant and grossly superstitious, but quite willing to accept life as it came to them. The old man carried a prayer- wheel in his hand which he kept constantly turning, thereby laying up an enormous store of merit for himself, and he occasionally ejaculated the sacred formula of Tibet: ‘Om mani peme hung,” spelt ‘Om mani padme hum,” to make up for delinquencies which the prayer-wheel might have left untouched. The younger man, although nearly forty years of age, had not yet reached the stage of piety, and instead of religious exercise occasionally flicked his horse with the whip which he carried, and varied this proceeding by now and then bursting into song. The leather used for all straps and whips is made from yak-hide, which the Tibetans have learned to cure in such a way as to make it soft. Most of the whips are only two or three feet long. Many of them have handles between one and two feet in length, made either of wood or more commonly of bamboo. The bamboo, and a good deal of the wood, is brought in from sikkun. ON TO SHIGATSE 159 The songs which our friend sang were not at all pious, in fact they were distinctly ribald, being chiefly in praise of the merits of chang and pretty ladies. I was surprised that his father did not seem to take any notice of them, but perhaps the old man was of the opinion that his religious exercises were sufficient to cover the sins of the family, and so let his son go on unchecked. Although all my servants were very religious, with the possible exception of ‘‘ Satan,’ who was too much of a priest to take religion very seriously, I noticed that they gave expres- sion to their ardent admiration of the wit hidden in the songs. One of the worst of these lyrics ‘‘ Satan’ insisted on learning then and there. In the meantime I was troubled by a matter of a-quite different kind. The walnut-juice and iodine I had used for my face and body had proved very satisfactory, but the “ hair-restorer ’’ had already shown signs of weakness, the glossy black hue had begun to fade, and I was afraid that any application of water to the hair would wash out the dye and leave the original brown colour. That morning, owing to the cold, I had wrapped my face up so well in a Tibetan scarf that even my nose and mouth were covered and my breath came directly on my beard. So bitterly cold was it that the moisture from the breath collected on the beard and froze, making a hard icicle of the whole of the beard. I had not minded this at the time, but later on, when the sun appeared and it became warmer, the icicle began to melt, and I was afraid that the thaw would also take some of the dye away. Carefully examining as much as I could of my beard, I found to my horror that this was so, and that the colour had become very streaky. I cursed the well-known makers of the “ guaranteed hair-restorer ”’ at great length to myself. In our luggage there was still another bottle of it, but until our next stop I would not be able to get at it and repair the damage. In the meantime it was necessary to bind the scarf even more tightly around the beard so as to hide it from sight. About nine o’clock we came to a point where the valley widened out considerably, and the river was joined by a tributary which came in from the right and which had its origin not far from Gyangtsé. A village lay at the junction. © I noticed something strange about this village, but could not at first explain what it was that made it seem out of the 160 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE ordinary. Then I realized that for the first time since entering Tibet we had met with trees. It was only a small clump of trees, a dozen at the outside, bare and bleak in their winter undress, but it was indeed a joy to see them. It is only in the Brahmaputra basin and its connecting-valley systems that one sees any trees at all, and here they are only kept alive by attentive cultivation. A wild, natural-growing tree is unknown. What trees there are in Tibet, it is interesting to note, are nearly all deciduous, evergreens not being able to sia the bitter winter weather. I had hoped that we would stop at the pleasant villa, for by this time I was ravenously hungry, but our guides kept steadily on for another two hours, during which time we passed two other villages, before, at last, they stopped in front of a large isolated farmhouse, where they said we had to rest for an hour and eat our first meal. At last, I thought and prayed, we should be able to go upstairs to a room which would be somewhat private and also in semi-darkness, but we had to stay in the courtyard under full public gaze, and we were soon surrounded by a host of young- sters, who were anxious to inspect the newcomers, and who passed audible comments upon our appearance. In these circumstances I was doubly afraid to expose my streaky beard, and instead of unwinding my scarf as the others did, I pretended to have toothache in addition to all my other troubles—tooth- ache, owing to lack of dentists, is very common in Tibet—and resolutely stuck to my wrapping and buried my face in my hands as well, giving vent to occasional short moans. This seemed to amuse the children, who shouted, “‘ The coolie has got toothache ; the worms have got at his teeth.’”’ But soon their attention became directed to poor “‘ Diogenes’ ” feet and I was once more left in peace. The woman brought the yak-dung brazier out ; this time it was of earthenware, not of iron, and before long our simple meal was ready. The Tibetan peasants are very irregular in the time of their meals. There were no definite times for eating. Food is prepared whenever they feel particularly hungry, but generally speaking they are content, especially when travelling, with two meals a day: one is eaten shortly before noon, and the ~ ON TO SHIGATSE 161 other at the end of the day’s march, which is usually shortly before dusk. These two meals consist almost invariably of the same food: meat, barley, and tea. The meat eaten in Tibet is either yak’s flesh or mutton. A haunch is left outside to freeze, and this preserves it to a certain extent for several months, though the recurrent heat of the day causes it to thaw sufficiently to become putrescent. At night it freezes again, a process which repeats itself as long as the meat lasts. The Tibetans do not object to the semi-putrescent, as they consider that the taste is in this way improved. Occasionally the meat is cooked, but for the most part the peasants prefer to eat it raw, hacking off small pieces with their great knives. They eat it with their fingers. The tea is of a very coarse kind. It is all imported, chiefly from China in the form of compressed bricks. As it is difficult to make leaves stick together, the tea is mixed with small quantities of yak-dung, which acts as a cement. A portion will be broken off a tea-brick and thrown in the water to boil. After it has bubbled for some time a huge mass of butter will be added, and at the same time a small quantity of soda and salt. This is thoroughly mixed, and then allowed to boil again for several minutes. Needless to say, the use of milk and sugar is unknown. Sometimes sheep’s fat will take the place of butter. In any case the butter, which is made from the yak’s milk, is invariably rancid. It is kept for months and even years before being used. As with us wine, so with the Tibetans butter is considered to be improved by age. This buttered tea is consumed in increasing quantities, and served as a food as well as drink. The barley-grains are first parched and ground into very fine flour. A handful of this flour is poured into the tea and kneaded with the fingers into dough-balls. The aristocrats of Tibet have become addicted to certain Chinese dishes, but the peasant is forced to content himself with the above diet all the year around. Fish and fowl are considered too filthy to be eaten. Vegetables are unknown. Raw putrid meat, buttered tea, and barley-flour do not constitute a very appetiz- ing meal, but a march of thirty miles dulls the senses to every feeling except that of hunger, so I ate with avidity. ‘“‘ Satan,” L 162. TO LHASA IN DISGUISE | as master, was able to purchase from the rest-house some Chinese delicacy, but as I was forced to eat in company with Tibetan peasants, I did not dare to secure any of this for myself. While Lhaten was getting out our barley and meat, [ whispered to him to secure the bottle of hair-dye as well. He did so and managed to hand it to me without anyone noticing the action. I at once hid it away inside of my bosom. Lhaten saw that I wanted a little time in private to use the dye, and while the others were reloading the mules, he ordered me in a loud voice to take up my load and go on ahead, as I was so confoundedly slow and he did not wish me to lag behind. I seized upon the hint and hobbled off as fast as I could. When out of sight of the farmhouse, I sat down and quickly repaired the damage which my beard had suffered earlier in the day, and at last I was able to discard my scarf, CHAPTER XIV ; THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT Not long afterwards’ the river crossed my path again. Coming towards me, on the other side, was a huge peasant accompanied by a tiny wife. The man was easily 6 feet 3 inches.in height, while his wife must have been under 5 feet. The contrast was startling. In the central parts of Tibet the inhabitants generally are rather short, an inch or two under the average height in England, so I judged this fellow or his ancestors must have come from Kham, the great eastern province of Tibet, where most of the inhabitants are extremely tall, and many of them attain to even gigantic size. This giant peasant was obviously in a hurry, for he came along at a great pace, but with his immense stride he seemed to have no difficulty in covering the ground. Not so his poor wife, who, with her short steps, had literally to run in order to keep up with her spouse. He seemed little worried by her exertions, and occasionally gave her a push to make her go faster, so I was surprised at the gallantry he showed when he came to the river. The ice was here too thin to bear any weight and broke through at every footstep. Not in the least perturbed by this, and seeing his wife hesitate, he picked her up with one hand in a most casual fashion and, tucking her under his arm as if she were a sack of flour, carried her over and deposited her on dry ground not far off from where I was standing. I wished very much that I could be conveyed across in a similar fashion, but for me there was no help but to wade through the icy stream, the freezing water of which came up to my knees. I was afraid to take off my shoes and stockings, which as they became soaking wet made me feel 163 164 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE extremely uncomfortable afterwards, and I had to walk very fast to prevent the water which they retained from freezing. I now began to be overtaken by a number of mounted parties, who seemed to be riding to a village in the distance. All the members of these bands of travellers had on their *‘ Sunday-go-to-meeting ’’ clothes, made of silk imported from China. As they passed me they all stared very inquisitively, and certainly I must have presented a very drab appearance. As many of them obviously belonged to the official class, local headmen and landowners, against whom I had to be especially on my guard, I was afraid that their curiosity might lead them to more active steps of inquiry. So I decided to wait till my party came up, when I should have someone who could answer any questions, and so I departed from the road and lay hidden in a ditch until I heard the voices of Lhaten and “Satan” engaged, as usual, in a fierce argument. Thereafter our march continued for some time without further incident, save that before long the river had again to be crossed. Still suffering from the previous crossing, I heartily cursed the Tibetans for making their roads cross ‘streams so frequently, particularly as at no place was there a bridge. “‘ Satan,” of course, on his pony, had no difficulty, and even the gyefo, or old Tibetan, who was still with us, mounted his loaded horse long enough to cross the stream with dry feet; but when I attempted to do the same with one of our mules, the sinful creature kicked out so lustily and made such a commotion that I was once more forced to wade through the icy water. Another hour and a half brought us to the village towards which I had seen the people riding. We found it an insig- nificant place depending for its existence upon the large monastery of Ragyimpa, which lay stretched up the side of the hill beyond. There seems to be a curious disposition of territory between castles, monasteries, and villages in Tibet. A village is nearly always placed on a flat plain or in a valley, but whenever possible at the foot of some mountain. A monastery is nearly always built on the slope of a mountain, neither on the top THE -.ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 165 nor at the base, while the castles are nearly always placed at the very summit of a low-lying but precipitous hill. The site selected, whenever such can be found, is preferably a hill set in the middle of a plain, so that from the castle ramparts a clear sweep of the horizon may be obtained. The village we now entered was astir and we saw a large number of people going up to the monastery. There was obviously some great religious festival taking place, which had attracted people from all over the countryside. In this connection the relation that exists between the villages and the monasteries must-not be forgotten. The religious houses of Tibet are not temples, properly speaking, but monasteries, inside the walls of which are temples. These are the principal colleges of the monasteries, where the mysterious Tantrik rites and occult ceremonies of the Tibetan religion are taught and celebrated. Every morning the monks foregather in the temples for services, but no sermons are preached, except on rare special occasions. There are one or two minor exceptions to the above, such as, for example, the Cho-Kang at Lhasa. The religious’ officials of Tibet, therefore, are not rightly called priests; they are more correctly monks. There is no parochial work, and the monasteries and their temples are not for the inhabitants of neighbouring villages or towns, but for the monks them- selves and the novitiates. The village will have its shrine, or shrines, and its prayer-wheel perhaps, but the great religious house is built away from ordinary habitation, and while the sick or dying peasant will call in a holy man to read prayers, and maybe administer relic-pills, certain herbal medicines, and medizval concoctions, his messenger may have a ten-mile journey to the monastery. As already mentioned, the monasteries are built on hillsides. Sometimes the outer walls of the monastery will reach down to the valley, with the various buildings, attained by stone steps, stretching one over the other high up the mountain-side, the topmost building generally being the storehouse, where are kept huge quantities of dried flesh, goat, yak, sheep, and other carcases, etc., which are for the provisioning of the inmates. Within the enclosure, a great wall pierced by gates facing the cardinal points of the compass, are the dwelling-houses of 166 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE the monks, the colleges, and the great hall where worship is practised. This main hall, with its carving and frescoes, its roof supported by wooden pillars, carved and decorated, contains images of the Buddhas on engraved wooden and metal altars, before which butter-lamps are continually burning. Here, too, are the effigies of departed abbots (as at Gyangtsé) all along the walls, and the great picture of the Buddhist deities (as at Trashi Lhumpo), which are brought out in the months of June and November and hung on the outer walls. The tombs containing the embalmed bodies of head lamas long passed are within the walls; the libraries, offices, punish- ment-cells, shrines, and such buildings, all go to make up a small thriving township, with lanes and byways, and centrally situated the great courtyard or square, where take place the outdoor ceremonies and religious dances. _ About the hillsides on which the monastery stands are seen small solitary buildings, the isolated cells of contemplative monks, who dislike intrusion and interruption of their vigils, while at the foot, up against the great wall, are built the lodging- - houses and club-rooms for the monks and pilgrims who may come in from all parts of the country. These club-rooms are curious: the monks form themselves into societies or unions, and each such has its separate and distinct meeting- house. On the wall itself, and sometimes on the top of one of the main buildings, may be found chortens, or pagodas. | Over the monastery is set the chief lama, who, in the case of the larger and more important monastic communities, is him- self an incarnate Buddha, a personage of considerable power, and under him a number of assistant chief lamas. The ge- longs and other inmates of the monasteries form influential bodies politically, and do not refrain from violence in espousing this or that particular cause. Their numbers are extraordinary, the two large monasteries near Lhasa containing about 6,000 (Sera) and 10,000 (Drepung) inmates. While the chief monasteries are largely endowed with lands, and are mainly stone-built—though sometimes sun-dried brick is used in construction—and imposing, the lesser gompas are poor, mean, and of no architectural importance, being oft-times YS }¥ous ye poutezqo sem Yydeasgojoyd onbiun sity yp TIVWAYGCHAHLVO NVLAGIL V ACISNI AAAVAd ONINYOW LV SHNOW irae an). ee 1, a0 oe " ‘ > - ri ee is) : i ¥ a te . “ ~ 4 } . ' > rd THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 167 insignificant collections of buildings, or just a square block, housing a few monks. ' Shortly after passing this point, we left the main-river course and went up a side-valley which led to the right. If we had followed the river to its mouth, we should have reached the Brahmaputra some miles to the west of Shigatsé, so we decided to take a short-cut which led over a mountain pass. Once more the road lay gradually uphill, but it was many weary hours before we reached the apex of the slope and the pass itself. On the way I commenced to be beset by new troubles, this time of a physical nature. So far my constitution had stood up wonderfully well under the enormous physical strain to which it had been subjected. I had appeared to be able to stand even more than my servants. The early symptoms of dysentery which I had experienced in the passes had worn off, I had hoped for good, but suddenly that afternoon they returned with increased vigour, and each new spasm seemed to sap all my strength. I began to fall behind the others, and only by a terrific effort of will was I able to force myself to go on in the endeavour to keep my party in sight. | To make matters worse, my feet began to suffer fearfully from blisters. The wetting which my shoes and my feet had had earlier in the day was probably responsible for most of the damage, for nothing makes for blisters more than walking in wet shoes. Finally, two of the blisters broke and the agony caused by the shoes rubbing against the raw flesh was too much for me: I pulled my shoes off and started to walk with bare feet. This scarcely improved matters, as the sharp stones cut _my feet badly and the lacerated soles left bloody footprints behind them. As night drew on, and the sun disappeared, the cold nipped at my toes and I was afraid I should fall into the plight of poor ‘‘ Diogenes,’’ who was now suffering terribly from his feet. But the terror of being left behind drove me on, and at last I came up with the others, who had waited for me just on the near side of the actual pass. The last two hundred yards were very precipitous, and we had great difficulty in getting our loaded animals over it. Poor “ London,’ the mule which had been limping for several days past, found the task impossible, so we had to unload her 168 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE and distribute her burden over our own already-overtaxed backs—faithful old Lhaten taking the bulk of it. After incredible exertion, we eventually reached the top of the pass known as the Nambula. The whole of the Brahma- putra basin lies much lower than any other part of Tibet, so that even this steep pass was only 14,800 feet above sea- level. Unlike the gradual ascent on the hither, or south, side, the descent proved extraordinarily steep and very stony. As I was now able to move only very gingerly, I whispered to | Lhaten to go on ahead with “‘ Satan” and our companions, while the syce, ‘‘ Diogenes,’ and I brought up the rearguard. This was done, and when at last I got to the bottom of the slope and arrived at the village of Nambudzong, I found that the main party had been there some time and that everything was in readiness for our accommodation. The name Nambudzong implies the existence of a dzong, or castle, but I found that this was only a memory of the distant past, that the fortress had long fallen into decay and that the place was no longer the centre of an administration. Unlike most Tibetan houses, which are built avound a court- yard, the rest-house in which we were staying resembled more an English farmhouse, in that it was one compact building with the stables and storehouse in a wall-enclosed yard on the outside. On arriving, I found that the house was filled with people, and that one of the parties within consisted of a Kampa Dzong official and his suite on his way back from Shigatsé. I was so very anxious to avoid any such person, and felt so ill and so weary after our journey of over thirty miles, that I was in no mood for carrying on my disguise, and so I decided that, on the excuse of overcrowding, ‘‘ Diogenes ”’ and I should spend the next night in one of the stables near to the animals, and this plan was duly carried out. Poor Lhaten must have noticed my disgust for the raw flesh which I was supposed to eat, and he managed, in secret, to grill me some meat—mutton, of course—and his cooking was so good that it thoroughly disguised the offensive putrid taste which it otherwise would - have had. THE -ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 169 Not long afterwards I fell into a long, heavy, but troubled sleep interspersed with nightmares. I began to cry out in my sleep, and ‘‘ Diogenes ”’ slumbering beside me, was awakened by the noise. In the circumstances he displayed more sense than I had given him credit for by waking me up, lest I should make some sound which might betray my nationality. The whole party was, I think, exhausted by the endeavour of the previous day, for the next morning we made, for Tibetans, a late start, it being nearly six o’clock before we moved off. Before our departure the syce, to whom I had communicated my troubles, bought for me a new pair of Tibetan boots, as I thought they would be softer than the shoés I had been wearing. In a few instances the Tibetan boots are made out of leather. Those which ‘‘ Diogenes” had bought in Kampa Dzong were of this order ; of a different shape and size, but also of leather, are the boots which most of the monks around Lhasa wear ; but for the most part Tibetan boots are made of closely- woven wool, with or without a thin layer of leather on the sole. They reach to a point a little below the knee, and are held up by two thin woollen bands, often prettily embroidered. The major part of these woollen boots is dyed red, but is frequently faced with sections of other colours. Variations in colour have in most cases a ceremonial significance. Priests’ boots, when made of wool, are of one pattern and colour, those made for laymen of another. In most cases those made for women are faced with green, a colour that seems reserved for the fairer sex. These woollen boots are very comfortable for wear indoors, but are less adequate for outdoor service. They absorb and retain water. The wind seems to penetrate through the pores of the wool, and finally the thinness of the sole allows every stone and pebble over which one walks to be felt. My new boots were indeed an improvement, but even they were so painful that I once more tried the experiment of going barefooted. But not for long; the reopening, by the stones, of the wounds of the preceding day was even more of a misery than the Tibetan boots, and so I pulled them on again. 170 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE “Diogenes ’’ fared even worse than I did. The long journey had told cruelly on his frostbitten feet, and though he uttered scarcely a murmur and did his utmost to keep up with us, he began to lag behind. This did not please ‘‘ Satan ”’ at all, and he turned his pony round and, riding back, gave the miserable boy several lashes with his whip, and threatened even more dire punishments unless he kept up with the party. I felt deeply outraged at this callousness, but with our com- panions standing by there was nothing that I could do, and so I had to content myself with whispering to hint as he came up that, however severe his trials might be at present, I would liberally reward him when the adventure had come to an end. We soon found ourselves in a wide, flat valley, and the face assumed a more prosperous appearance. Another mile or two farther on our road ran into and joined the great highway which runs from Shigatsé to the west. Along this rolls the stream of traffic which connects Central Tibet with the upper portions of the Brahmaputra River and the sacred Manasarowar Lakes, where go every year thousands of people on pilgrimage. Still farther beyond this Tibetan “‘ Mecca,” the highway runs until it reaches Leh, in Ladak, and even into the dreamy Valley of Kashmir. It is indeed the high-road of enchantment, and once we were on it we met, or were passed by, a steady stream of traffic. There flew past us a swift Government courier carrying messages and orders to far-away Governors in the unknown west. We had no fear that he would stop to parley with us, for by a system of relay horses he was bound to cover a hundred miles a day. _Buxom matrons, living in some village lying near, were returning from marketing in Shigatsé, each covered with cheap trinkets and bright-coloured beads, which she had purchased after enormous bargaining at some open stall. Some came riding sedately on ponies and mules, and others trudged sturdily along in twos and threes, and compared trinket with trinket and talked volubly of the prices they had paid for each, and of the marvellous reductions they had secured as the result of their ready wit and voluble tongue. Then we would overtake a small body of Nepalese workers in metal, who had been sent for by the Grand Lama himself to cast a bell for his monastery, THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 171 for which the cunning of his own craftsmen was not sufficient ; then a body of Kashmiri Mohammedans, taking advantage of their proud privilege to bring rare goods in great mule-caravans for sale to the aristocracy of Shigatsé and Lhasa; pilgrims galore, going in either direction, spinning their prayer-wheels and telling their rosaries at a dizzy speed, monks and laymen alike. There came also trotting by, on a long lank mare, the bursar of a monastery, lean and hard of face, out to collect rents for his establishment and to drive a cruel bargain as a money- lender on his own. Small caravans of every. sort, with yaks, mules, ponies, and donkeys, passed by : donkeys were particularly noticeable, for in this part of Tibet local traffic is largely carried on by their means. Tiny things they are, but many a peasant went riding by on one: the man twice the size of the animal, and only having to stand up to be free of his mount; and last, but exceedingly interesting, a herd of sheep, also used to transport heavy loads, for Tibetan sheep are strong and are frequently used as beasts of burden. The interest of the highway and its travellers helped to while away the long dreary hours of the morning march, but I was nearly dropping from fatigue and weakness when at last we stopped at a little village not far from the famous Nartang Monastery, which we could see quite clearly from the road. Nartang owes its fame to its printing-press. Here are printed most of the books which are to be found in every respectable monastery throughout the land. Lhasa has also its printing-press, and some Tibetan books are printed in the Lama Monastery of Peking, but neither of these places can vie with Nartang for fame. Tibet has a large literature, but almost all of it of a religious character, and a large part of it consists of translations of works originally written in India in Sanskrit. The originals of these works have, in most cases, been lost, so that the students of ancient Indian literature, history, customs, and thought must turn to the Tibetan canon for purposes of research. There are a large number of isolated and individual works, but most of the better-known and more authoritative works are incorporated in two collections or canons, called “ Kangyur ”’ and ‘‘ Tengyur.” . me | 172 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE The “ Kangyur ”’ [/it. ‘ Bkah-gyur,” or ‘‘ The Rendering of the Word ”’ of the Buddha himself] consists of 100 (sometimes printed as 108) volumes of approximately a thousand pages each, and comprises 1,083 separate works. All of these are translated from Sanskrit, a few indirectly through Chinese, and are supposed to be a record of the actual discourses of the historical Buddha, though the Higher Criticism will not allow this claim for an instant. Thirteen volumes deal with the vinaya, or canon law affecting the discipline and organization of the monks, while the remaining volumes consist of very long-winded discourses upon religion and morals. The ‘“‘ Tengyur ” [Jit. ‘‘ Bstan-gyur,” or “‘ Rendering of the (Traditional) Teachings ’’] is usually printed in 225 volurnes, and is the official commentary and interpretation given of the “ Kangyur.’”’ This collection also consists of a large number of separate works. Many of them were composed by Nagayuna, Asamgha, and Vasubandhu, and others consist of original works written by prominent Tibetan worthies. This — collection shows us something of the rational and philosophical side of Buddhism. The crudities and absurdities of the “ Kangyur ”’ are softened down. In addition to works of a purely exegetical and philosophical nature, the “ Tengyur ”’ contains books dealing with music, grammar, rhetoric, prosody, medicine, mechanics, and alchemy, all of which formed part of Buddhism in its medizval development. Most of these works were translated or composed between the ninth and the fourteenth century A.D., the period of Tibet’s greatest literary achievements. Modern literature is very scrappy and inferior, and consists chiefly of pious tracts and biographies of various important lamas. As we were halting only for an hour, we had once more to content ourselves with eating in the courtyard, instead of withdrawing to the privacy of a room above. One of the sons of the nemo, a youth of about eighteen years of age, hearing that we came from Sikkim, took a lively interest in us, but in quite a friendly way. In fact, he was infected with the Wanderlust, and asked “‘ Satan ”’ to engage him as an extra servant in order that he might travel along and see the country and eventually return with us to Sikkim. From Sikkim he had even thoughts of going down into India, where the terrible Chiling kyt mt THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 173 (foreigners, i.e. English) live, and he wanted to know if we had met any, and whether they were as terrible as all the stories of them made out. I rather liked the boy for his general bright- ness and interest in life, in contrast to the sodden, sullen stupidity which characterizes most of the population, but to take him along with us was out of the question: even “Satan,’’ in spite of his high-handedness, saw this, and put him off. * Diogenes,’’ the gyepo, and I departed earlier than the others, leaving ‘them to pay the bill and to reload the animals. As we passed down the village street, I felt so stupefied by the prospect of another long afternoon’s march that I scarcely noticed a méndang, or prayer-wall, in the middle of the street and started to pass to the right of it. I had still my dark goggles on, and the old man, believing implicitly in the story that I was still half blind as the result of the snow, shouted out to me that the prayer-wall existed and that I was passing it on the wrong side. This startled me into my right senses, and I quickly swerved to the left, passing the sacred wall in orthodox fashion. In Tibet respect to a person or thing is shown by always keeping it on one’s right-hand side. In circumambulating any religious edifice—and this is considered an act of great merit—it is proper always to pass round from left to right, “ clock-wise,’’ which is also the direction in which the prayer- wheel should be turned. Any deviation from this rule is considered an act of outrageous blasphemy. These prayer-walls are very common in Tibet. They consist of a thick stone or sun-dried brick wall, of varying length, sometimes a few yards long and sometimes stretching for a quarter of a mile or more. They are frequently placed in the middle of the high-road, so that travellers may acquire merit merely by passing them in the prescribed way. In some cases prayer-wheels are set in the walls, and in nearly all cases the sides are ornamented with sacred inscriptions, or with bas-relief sculptures representing various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. As it is considered an act of great merit to erect such a prayer-wall, they are to be seen in the neighbourhood of nearly every village. 174 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE Thereafter the course of the afternoon’s march went fairly smoothly. The other members of the party caught us up, and we journeyed on and on, though at every moment I thougsit I would have to give up. A great sturdy drokpa fell in with us, and journeyed with us a good part of the way. Instead of the ordinary clothes made of woven wool which are worn by the townsfolk and the villagers, this fellow’s clothes were entirely of sheep’s fur, the skin on the outside and the fur next to his skin. His coat was also much shorter than those worn by the townsmen, only reaching to his hips, so that his Brose of the same material, were very much in evidence. He was nearly six feet tall, pha a long sword, and. was extremely fierce-looking, and most of our party were much afraid of him; but he soon embarked on amiable conversation and gradually told us his life-story. He confessed that in addition to looking after his flocks on the Chang Tang, he had frequently acted as a brigand, and had amassed quite a little fortune in that way. Recently he had fallen very ill, and believing his disease to be a punishment from the gods, he had decided to come on pilgrimage to Shigatsé and thereby wipe out his sins, without in any way having to get rid of his ill- gotten gains. He kept alongside of us for some time, but as our progress was slow and he wanted to get to the city before nightfall, he left us later. In the middle of the plain we came across another wide, shallow river, but this time, learning by experience, I took off my boots before crossing it, and consequently did not experience the same ill-effects asthe preceding day. Laterin the afternoon we came to the end of the valley plain and had to ascend another pass. This was not nearly so difficult or so steep, but as the result of the dysentery my weakness had come on me so fast that I had to hold on to the tail of “ Satan’s ’’ pony and be almost pulled up the incline. Once we were over the top, however, I felt rewarded for all the misery which I had undergone, for there at the end of the valley, only some five miles away, we could see the huge mass of buildings constituting Trashilhumpo, the famous Shigatsé monastery. The city of Shigatsé itself was hidden behind a THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 175 hill a mile or so farther on, but I knew then that at last we had come to the end of the first stage of our journey, and that even if we never got to Lhasa, the adventure would not have been altogether in vain. CHAPTER XV SHIGATSE ONWARD 0 AT the foot of the Trashilhumpo ‘Monastery there is a tiny village. In this our two Tibetan companions had a house. By this time we had become such friends that they invited us to make use of it during our stay in Shigatsé instead of going to a rest-house in the city proper. The invitation we gladly accepted. We decided to spend the whole of the next day (February 6) in Shigatsé in order to give ourselves and the animals a much-needed rest. We thus had the opportunity of looking about the city and entering the monastery, to which so many thousands of pilgrims come every year. Central Tibet consists of two provinces, of Tsang in the west and U (spelt Dbugs) in the east. The capital of the former is Shigatsé, of the latter Lhasa. Not long ago the two provinces were practically independent states, and the abbot of the Trashilhumpo Monastery is still the titular king of Tsang, though now the Lhasa officials have managed to secure complete control over this province as well as the other. Politically, therefore, the Dalai Lama is greater than the Trashi Lama, but religiously the two great abbots rank as equal. Owing to the greater spiritual character of the Trashi Lama, many Tibetans regard the Dalai Lama as merely the secular and the Trashi Lama as the spiritual ruler of Tibet. I was, therefore, delighted to hear that he would pass in procession through the streets that afternoon, and by standing amongst the worship- ping crowd I managed to catch a glimpse of him. He was a man with a very gentle and refined appearance, with a look almost of shyness that fitted in well with his character as this was reported, and with his post. The Trashilhumpo Monastery 176 SHIGATSE ONWARD 177 is generally considered the best-conducted in Tibet. It is famous for its learning and attracts numerous monkish students _ from all parts of the country, who seek to obtain the highly- prized degree which it bestows. At present it numbers between 4,000 and 5,000 monks. On the same day we purchased an aged donkey in the hope of lightening our load for the remainder of the journey. In the evening our hosts arranged to give us a farewell banquet. The “ banquet ”’ consisted of larger quantities of the same food as heretofore, this being washed down by copious draughts of liquor. The Tibetans have two staple intoxicating drinks. The first is chang, a mild beer brewed from barley, very refresh- ing afteralong journey. The second is avak (not to be confused with spirit of the same name known in other parts of the world), the distilled form of chang. This latter is frightfully strong, and generally proves too much even for hardened drinkers. The avak very nearly proved our undoing. The evening started in very jovial fashion. Broad jests with hilarious Tibetan folk-songs followed one another in quick succession, and the whole company soon became very maudlin. Both Lhaten and “Satan” would drink only arak, despising the weaker chang. They soon lost control of themselves, and having become hopelessly drunk, chose this moment to start a violent quarrel. From words they came to blows, and in the end had to be forcibly separated. In the heat of their anger they forgot their assumed réles, and both appealed to me as master to settle their dispute. I was nearly wild with terror of being discovered, and if our hosts had not been such simple- minded folk they would soon have grasped the true situation, but in the end everything calmed down. It was nearly one o’clock before everything was quiet once more, but a calm sleep was impossible. I had no idea as to how much of the situation the spectators may have understood, and it was possible that they were only waiting for daylight to inform the Shigatsé authorities of their suspicions. This fear grew so strong in me, that, although I was mortally tired, as soon as it began to get light, and long before the actual sunrise took place, I got up and whispered to Lhaten that it was imperative for us to get on the move at once. We got the mules and the new donkey loaded and only woke “ Satan” M + 178 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE when we were on the point of departure, and then hoisted him into his saddle and on the road before he was sufficiently aetna to expostulate effectively. Our road led right under the monastery and ie the city. Early as it was when we passed by the monastery we could hear the low hum from a service taking place in the great central hall—the services in a properly-conducted monastery begin between three and four in the morning—and we con- stantly met pilgrims making a circumambulation of the whole monastery in the prescribed “‘ clock-wise’’ fashion. “As they did so some turned their prayer-wheels and others told their rosaries—the rosary, generally with 108 beads, being much valued by every branch of Tibetan Buddhism, Some of the devotees were making the round at great speed, while others stopped to make frequent prostrations. We then passed through the heart of the city, once more seeing the great dzong, which towers on high, and then struck to the right down to the Nyang River. To the right of us lay the Chinese graveyard, where several hundred Chinese lay buried—an apt symbol of the extinct suzerainty of China over Tibet. Some of these graves were old, and covered the bodies of the Chinese who had suffered a natural death during the old days prior to 1912, when there was a garrison of Chinese soldiers and a small body of Chinese traders in Shigatsé. An even larger number of graves, however, were filled by the Chinese inhabitants who were killed in the Tibetan revolt of.1912, when Tibet declared her absolute independence of China, and gave effect to this declaration by killing off as many of the Celestials as possible and forcing the remainder to . return immediately back to the territory of the new Chinese Republic. For the most part these graves marked the resting-places of middle- and lower-class Chinese. When a high official died, his coffin was generally transported back to China, for it is the highest ambition of every Chinaman, however far he may wander during his lifetime, to sleep the long sleep of the dead in his native land. Curiously enough, there is no Tibetan graveyard in Shigatsé or, for that matter, anywhere else, for the Tibetans do not go in for burials. A few of the very highest lamas are embalmed ‘ie SHIGATSE ONWARD 179 and.are then gilded, to be placed in some temple to serve as an object-of worship. A few other lamas, of high but lesser rank, are cremated in accordance with the old Indian Buddhist custom ; but wood is too scarce in Tibet to allow cremation to be practised extensively, and so the Tibetans have evolved their own methods of disposing of the dead. _ In certain instances thé flesh is fed to the pigs and dogs; kites and vultures join in the feast. Thé dogs are pariahs which roam about every Tibetan town and Village scavenging. They are far different from the fierce mastiff breed of canine used as guardians and for hunting. The graveyards are special places set aside for funeral cere- monies. Here the dead bodies are brought out, spread on a large stone slab face downwards, and hacked to pieces, to be fed to the carrion birds and animals. To assure a good rebirth, it is considered advisable that the corpse be devoured by birds’ rather than by quadrupeds, and members of a rascally tribe of beggars, known as “‘ Ragyabas,’”’ who haunt the cemeteries, will hire themselves out to keep off the four-footed scavengers till the kites and vultures put in appearance, which is not tardy, for they sense the dead from afar and foregather quickly. The first portion hacked off the dead body is fed to the oldest vulture of the flock, which will waddle forward to receive its _ reward when called. The birds are extremely tame, and respond individually to the cry of the officiating lama. The ““Ragyabas’”’ complete the dismembering of*the body. Some- times the remains are buried, but this is an expensive business ; more frequently the bones, and scraps left after the pigs have gorged, will be interred where possible. Before long we reached the river and crossed the clumsy bridge which spans it. Both Shigatsé and Gyangtsé stand on the Nyang River, and that morning I saw the same stream as that which I had waded in at Gyangtsé several months earlier.