Tassiding, view of and from—Funereal cypress—Camp at Sunnook—Hot
vapours—Lama’s house—Temples, decorations, altars, idols, general
effect—Chaits—Date of erection—Plundered by Ghorkas—Cross Ratong—Ascend
to Pemiongchi—Relation of river-beds to strike of rocks—Slopes of
ravines—Pemiongchi, view of—Vegetation—Elevation—Temple, decorations,
etc.—Former capital of Sikkim—History of Sikkim—Nightingales—Campbell
departs—Tchonpong—Edgeworthia—Cross Rungbee and Ratong—Hoar-frost on
plantains—Yoksun—Walnuts—View—Funereal cypresses—Doobdi—Gigantic
cypresses—Temples—Snow-fall—Sikkim, etc.—Toys.
Tassiding hill is the steep conical termination of a long spur from a
pine-clad shoulder of Kinchinjunga, called Powhungri: it divides the
Great Rungeet from its main feeder, the Ratong, which rises from the
south face of Kinchin. We crossed the former by a bridge formed of two
bamboo stems, slung by canes from two parallel arches of stout branches
lashed together.
The ascent for 2,800 feet was up a very steep, dry, zigzag path,
amongst mica slate rocks (strike north-east), on which grew many
tropical plants, especially the “Tukla,” (_Rottlera tinctoria_), a
plant which yields a brown dye. The top was a flat, curving north-west
and south-east, covered with temples, chaits, and mendongs of the most
picturesque forms and in elegant groups, and fringed with brushwood,
wild plantains, small palms, and apple-trees. Here I saw for the first
time the funereal cypress, of which some very old trees spread their
weeping limbs and pensile branchlets over the buildings.[101] It is not
wild in Sikkim, but imported there and into Bhotan from Tibet: it does
not thrive well above 6000 feet elevation. It is called “Tchenden” by
the Lepchas, Bhoteeas, and Tibetans, and its fragrant red wood is burnt
in the temples.
[101] I was not then aware of this tree having been introduced into
England by the intrepid Mr. Fortune from China; and as I was unable to
procure seeds, which are said not to ripen in Sikkim, it was a great
and unexpected pleasure, on my return home, to find it alive and
flourishing at Kew.
[Illustration: Group of chaits at Tassiding]
The Lamas met us on the top of the hill, bringing a noble present of
fowls, vegetables and oranges, the latter most acceptable after our
long and hot march. The site is admirably chosen, in the very heart of
Sikkim, commanding a fine view, and having a considerable river on
either side, with the power of retreating behind to the convents of
Sunnook and Powhungri, which are higher up on the same spur, and
surrounded by forest enough to conceal an army. Considering the
turbulent and warlike character of their neighbours, it is not
wonderful that the monks should have chosen commanding spots, and good
shelter for their indolent lives: for the same reason these monasteries
secured views of one another: thus from Tassiding the great temple of
Pemiongchi was seen towering 3000 feet over head, whilst to the
north-west, up the course of the river, the hill-sides seemed sprinkled
with monasteries.
We camped on a saddle near the village of Sunnook, at 4000 feet above
the sea; and on the last day of the year we visited this most
interesting monastic establishment: ascending from our camp along the
ridge by a narrow path, cut here and there into steps, and passing many
rocks covered with inscriptions, broken walls of mendongs, and other
remains of the _via sacra_ between the village and temple. At one spot
we found a fissure emitting hot vapour of the temperature of 65·5°,
that of the air being about 50°. It was simply a hole amongst the
rocks; and near the Rungeet a similar one is said to occur, whose
temperature fluctuates considerably with the season. It is very
remarkable that such an isolated spring should exist on the top of a
sharp ridge, 2,800 feet above the bottom of this deep valley.
The general arrangement on the summit was, first the Lamas’ houses with
small gardens, then three large temples raised on rudely paged
platforms, and beyond these, a square walled enclosure facing the
south, full of chaits and mendongs, looking like a crowded cemetery,
and planted with funereal cypress (_Cupressus funebris_).
The house of the principal Lama was an oblong square, the lower story
of stone, and the upper of wood: we ascended a ladder to the upper
room, which was 24 feet by 8 wattled all round, with prettily latticed
windows opening upon a bamboo balcony used for drying grain, under the
eaves of the broad thatched roof. The ceiling (of neat bamboo work) was
hung with glorious bunches of maize, yellow, red, and brown; an altar
and closed wicker cage at one end of the room held the Penates, and a
few implements of worship. Chinese carpets were laid on the floor for
us, and the cans of Murwa brought round.
The Lama, though one of the red sect, was dressed in a yellow flowered
silk robe, but his mitre was red: he gave us much information relative
to the introduction of Boodhism into Sikkim.
[Illustration: Doorway]
The three temples stand about fifty yards apart, but are not parallel
to one another, although their general direction is east and west.[102]
Each is oblong, and narrowed upwards, with the door at one end; the
middle (and smallest) faces the west, the others the east: the doorways
are all broad, low and deep, protected by a projecting carved portico.
The walls are immensely thick, of well-masoned slaty stones; the outer
surface of each slopes upwards and inwards, the inner is perpendicular.
The roofs are low and thickly thatched, and project from eight to ten
feet all round, to keep off the rain, being sometimes supported by long
poles. There is a very low upper story, inhabited by the attendant
monks and servants, accessible by a ladder at one end of the building.
The main body of the temple is one large apartment, entered through a
small transverse vestibule, the breadth of the temple, in which are
tall cylindrical praying-machines. The carving round the doors is very
beautiful, and they are gaudily painted and gilded. The northern temple
is quite plain: the middle one is simply painted red, and encircled
with a row of black heads, with goggle eyes and numerous teeth, on a
white ground; it is said to have been originally dedicated to the evil
spirits of the Lepcha creed. The southern, which contains the library,
is the largest and best, and is of an irregular square shape. The
inside walls and floors are plastered with clay, and painted with
allegorical representations of Boodh, etc. From the vestibule the
principal apartment is entered by broad folding-doors, studded with
circular copper bosses, and turning on iron hinges. It is lighted by
latticed windows, sometimes protected outside by a bamboo screen. Owing
to the great thickness of the walls (three to four feet), a very feeble
light is admitted. In the principal temple, called “Dugang,” six
hexagonal wooden columns, narrowed above, with peculiar broad
transverse capitals, exquisitely gilded and painted, support the
cross-beams of the roof, which are likewise beautifully ornamented.
Sometimes a curly-maned gilt lion is placed over a column, and it is
always furnished with a black bushy tail: squares, diamonds, dragons,
and groups of flowers, vermilion, green, gold, azure, and white, are
dispersed with great artistic taste over all the beams; the heavier
masses of colour being separated by fine white lines.
[102] Timkowski, in his travels through Mongolia (i. p. 193), says,
“According to the rules of Tibetan architecture, temples should face
the south:” this is certainly not the rule in Sikkim, nor, so far as I
could learn, in Tibet either.
[Illustration: Southern temple]
The altars and idols are placed at the opposite end; and two long
parallel benches, like cathedral stalls, run down the centre of the
building: on these the monks sit at prayer and contemplation, the head
Lama occupying a stall (often of very tasteful design) near the altar.
[Illustration: Middle temple]
The principal Boodh, or image, is placed behind the altar under a
canopy, or behind a silk screen: lesser gods, and gaily dressed and
painted effigies of sainted male or female persons are ranged on either
side, or placed in niches around the apartment, sometimes with separate
altars before them; whilst the walls are more or less covered with
paintings of monks in prayer or contemplation. The principal Boodh
(Sakya Sing) sits cross-legged, with the left heel up: his left-hand
always rests on his thigh, and holds the padmi or lotus and jewel,
which is often a mere cup; the right-hand is either raised, with the
two forefingers up, or holds the dorje, or rests on the calf of the
upturned leg. Sakya has generally curled hair, Lamas have mitres,
females various head-dresses; most wear immense ear-rings, and some
rosaries. All are placed on rude pediments, so painted as to convey the
idea of their rising out of the petals of the pink, purple, or white
lotus. None are in any way disagreeable; on the contrary most have a
calm and pleasing expression, suggestive of contemplation.
[Illustration: Altar and images]
The great or south temple contained a side altar of very elegant shape,
placed before an image encircled by a glory. Flowers, juniper,
peacock’s feathers, pastiles, and rows of brass cups of water were the
chief ornaments of the altars, besides the instruments I have elsewhere
enumerated. In this temple was the library, containing several hundred
books, in pigeon-holes, placed in recesses.[103]
[103] For a particular account of the images and decorations of these
temples, sea Dr. Campbell’s paper in “Bengal Asiatic Society’s
Trans.,” May, 1849. The principal object of veneration amongst the
Ningma or red sect of Boodhists in Sikkim and Bhotan is Gorucknath,
who is always represented sitting cross-legged, holding the dorje in
one hand, which is raised; whilst the left rests in the lap and holds
a cup with a jewel in it. The left arm supports a trident, whose staff
pierces three sculls (a symbol of Shiva), a rosary hangs round his
neck, and he wears a red mitre with a lunar crescent and sun in front.
[Illustration: Plan of the south temple]
The effect on entering these cold and gloomy temples is very
impressive; the Dugang in particular is exquisitely ornamented and
painted, and the vista from the vestibule to the principal idol, of
carved and coloured pillars and beams, is very picturesque. Within, the
general arrangement of the colours and gilding is felt to be harmonious
and pleasing, especially from the introduction of slender white streaks
between the contrasting masses of colour, as adopted in the Great
Exhibition building of 1851. It is also well worthy of remark that the
brightest colours are often used in broad masses, and when so, are
always arranged chromatically, in the sequence of the rainbow’s hues,
and are hence never displeasing to the eye. The hues, though bright,
are subdued by the imperfect light: the countenances of the images are
all calm, and their expression solemn. Whichever way you turn, the eye
is met by some beautiful specimen of colouring or carving, or some
object of veneration. The effect is much heightened by the incense of
juniper and sweet-smelling herbs which the priests burn on entering, by
their grave and decorous conduct, and by the feeling of respect that is
demanded by a religion which theoretically inculcates and adores virtue
in the abstract, and those only amongst men who practise virtue. To the
idol itself the Boodhist attaches no real importance; it is an object
of reverence, not of worship, and no virtue or attribute belong to it
_per se_; it is a symbol of the creed, and the adoration is paid to the
holy man whom it represents.
Beyond the temples are the chaits and mendongs, scattered without much
order; and I counted nearly twenty-five cbaits of the same form,[104]
between eight and thirty feet high. The largest is consecrated to the
memory of the Rajah’s eldest son, who, however, is not buried here. A
group of these structures is, as I have often remarked, extremely
picturesque, and those at Tassiding, from their number, variety, and
size, their commanding and romantic position, and their being
interspersed with weeping cypresses, are particularly so.
[104] In Sikkim the form of the cube alone is always strictly
preserved; that of the pyramid and hemisphere being often much
modified. The cube stands on a flight of usually three steps, and is
surmounted by a low pyramid of five steps; on this is placed a
swelling, urn-shaped body, which represents the hemisphere, and is
surmounted by another cube. On the latter is a slender, round or
angled spire (represented by a pyramid in Burma), crowned with a
crescent and disc, or sun, in moon. Generally, the whole is of stone,
with the exception of the spire, which is of wood, painted red.
The Tassiding temples and convents were founded upwards of 300 years
ago, by the Lamas who accompanied the first Rajah to Sikkim; and they
have been continuously served by Lamas of great sanctity, many of whom
have been educated at Lhassa. They were formerly very wealthy, but
during the Nepal war they were plundered of all their treasures, their
silver gongs and bells, their best idols, dorjes, and manis, and
stripped of their ornaments; since which time Pemiongchi has been more
popular. In proof of their antiquity, it was pointed out that most of
the symbols and decorations were those of pure Lama Boodhism, as
practised in Tibet.
Although the elevation is but 4,840 feet, the weather was cold and raw,
with rain at noon, followed by thunder and lightning. These electrical
disturbances are frequent about midsummer and midwinter, prevailing
over many parts of India.
_January 1st, 1849._—The morning of the new year was bright and
beautiful, though much snow had fallen on the mountains; and we left
Sunnook for Pemiongchi, situated on the summit of a lofty spur on the
opposite side of the Ratong. We descended very steeply to the bed of
the river (alt. 2,480 feet) which joins the Great Rungeet below the
convents. The rocks were micaceous, dipping west and north-west 45°,
and striking north and north-east, which direction prevailed for 1000
feet or so up the opposite spur. I had observed the same dip and stroke
on the east flank of the Tassiding spur; but both the Ratong on its
west side, and the Great Rungeet on the east, flow in channels that
show no relation to either the dip or strike. I have generally remarked
in Sikkim that the channels of the rivers when cutting through or
flowing at the base of bluff cliffs, are neither parallel to nor at
right angles to the strike of the rocks forming the cliffs. I do not
hence conclude that there is no original connection between the
directions of the rivers, and the lines of fracture; but whatever may
have once subsisted between the direction of the fissures and that of
the strike, it is in the Sikkim Himalaya now wholly masked by
shiftings, which accompanied subsequent elevations and depressions.
Mr. Hopkins has mathematically demonstrated that the continued exertion
of a force in raising superimposed strata would tend to produce two
classes of fractures in those strata; those of the first order at right
angles to the direction of the wave or ridge (or line of strike); those
of the second order parallel to the strike. Supposing the force to be
withdrawn after the formation of the two fractures, the result would be
a ridge, or mountain chain, with diverging fissures from the summit,
crossed by concentric fissures; and the courses which the rivers would
take in flowing down the ridge, would successively be at right angles
and parallel to the strike of the strata. Now, in the Himalaya, a
prevalent strike to the north-west has been recognised in all parts of
the chain, but it is everywhere interfered with by mountains presenting
every other direction of strike, and by their dip never remaining
constant either in amount or direction. Consequently, as might be
expected, the directions of the river channels bear no apparent
relation to the general strike of the rocks.
We crossed the Ratong (twenty yards broad) by a cane bridge, suspended
between two rocks of green chlorite, full of veins of granite.
Ascending, we passed the village of Kameti on a spur, on the face of
which were strewed some enormous detached blocks of white and pink
stratified quartz: the rocks _in situ_ were all chlorite schist.
Looking across the valley to the flank of Mainom, the disposition of
the ridges and ravines on its sides was very evident; many of the
latter, throughout their westerly course, from their commencement at
10,000 feet, to their debouchure in the Great Rungeet at 2000, had a
bluff, cliffy, northern flank, and a sloping southern one. The dip of
the surfaces is, therefore, north-west, the exposure consequently of
the villages which occupy terraces on the south flanks of the lateral
valleys. The Tassiding spur presented exactly the same arrangement of
its ravines, and the dip of the rocks being north-west, it follows that
the planes of the sloping surfaces coincide in direction (though not in
amount of inclination) with that of the dip of the subjacent strata,
which is anything but a usual phenomenon in Sikkim.
The ascent to Pemiongchi continued very steep, through woods of oaks,
chesnuts, and magnolias, but no tree-fern, palms, _Pothos,_ or
plantain, which abound at this elevation on the moister outer ranges of
Sikkim. The temple (elev. 7,083 feet) is large, eighty feet long, and
in excellent order, built upon the lofty terminal point of the great
east and west spur that divides the Kulhait from the Ratong and Rungbee
rivers; and the great Changachelling temple and monastery stand on
another eminence of the same ridge, two miles further west.
The view of the snowy range from this temple is one of the finest in
Sikkim; the eye surveying at one glance the vegetation of the Tropics
and the Poles. Deep in the valleys the river-beds are but 3000 feet
above the sea, and are choked with fig-trees, plantains, and palms; to
these succeed laurels and magnolias, and higher up still, oaks,
chesnuts, birches, etc.; there is, however, no marked line between the
limits of these two last forests, which form the prevailing arboreous
vegetation between 4000 and 10,000 feet, and give a lurid line to the
mountains. Pine forests succeed for 2000 feet higher, when they give
place to a skirting of rhododendron and berberry. Among these appear
black naked rocks, rising up in cliffs, between which are gulleys, down
which the snow now (on the 1st January) descended to 12,000 feet. The
mountain flanks are much more steep and rocky than those at similar
heights on the outer ranges, and cataracts are very numerous, and of
considerable height, though small in volume.
Pemiongchi is at the same elevation as Dorjiling, and the contrast
between the shoulders of 8000 to 10,000 feet on Kinchinjunga, and those
of equal height on Tendong and Tonglo, is very remarkable: looking at
the latter mountains from Dorjiling, the observer sees no rock,
waterfall, or pine, throughout their whole height; whereas the equally
wooded flanks of these inner ranges are rocky, streaked with
thread-like waterfalls, and bristling with silver firs.
This temple, the most ancient in Sikkim, is said to be 400 years old;
it stands on a paved platform, and is of the same form and general
character as those of Tassiding. Inside, it is most beautifully
decorated, especially the beams, columns, capitals and architraves, but
the designs are coarser than those of Tassiding.[105] The square end of
every beam in the roof is ornamented either with a lotus flower or with
a Tibetan character, in endless diversity of colour and form, and the
walls are completely covered with allegorical paintings of Lamas and
saints expounding or in contemplation, with glories round their heads,
mitred, and holding the dole and jewel.
[105] Mr. Hodgson informed me that many of the figures and emblems in
this temple are those of Tantrica Boodhism, including Shiva, Devi, and
other deities usually called Brahminical; Kakotak, or the snake king,
a figure terminating below in a snake, is also seen; with the tiger,
elephant, and curly-maned lion.
[Illustration: Interior of the temple at Pemiongchi]
The principal image is a large and hideous figure of Sakya-thoba, in a
recess under a blue silk canopy, contrasting with a calm figure of the
late Rajah, wearing a cap and coronet.
Pemiongchi was once the capital of Sikkim, and called the Sikkim
Durbar: the Rajah’s residence was on a curious flat to the south of the
temple, and a few hundred feet below it, where are the remains of (for
this country) extensive walls and buildings. During the Nepal war, the
Rajah was driven west across the Teesta, whilst the Ghorkas plundered
Tassiding, Pemiongchi, Changachelling, and all the temples and convents
to the east of that river. It was then that the famous history of
Sikkim,[106] compiled by the Lamas of Pemiongchi, and kept at this
temple, was destroyed, with the exception of a few sheets, with one of
which Dr. Campbell and myself were each presented. We were told that
the monks of Changachelling and those of this establishment had copied
what remained, and were busy compiling from oral information, etc.:
whatever value the original may have possessed, however, is
irretrievably lost. A magnificent copy of the Boodhist Scriptures was
destroyed at the same time; it consisted of 400 volumes, each
containing several hundred sheets of Daphne paper.
[106] This remarkable and beautiful manuscript was written on thick
oblong sheets of Tibet paper, painted black to resist decay, and the
letters were yellow and gold. The Nepalese soldiers wantonly employed
the sheets to roof the sheds they erected, as a protection from the
weather.
The ground about the temple was snowed; and we descended a few hundred
feet, to encamp in a most picturesque grove, among chaits and inscribed
stones, with a peep of the temples above. Nightingales warbled
deliciously night and morning, which rather surprised us, as the
minimum thermometer fell to 27·8°, and the ground next day was covered
with hoar-frost; the elevation being 6,580 feet. These birds migrate
hither in October and November, lingering in the Himalayan valleys till
the cold of early spring drives them further south, to the plains of
India, whence they return north in March and April.
On the 2nd of January I parted from my friend, who was obliged to hurry
to the great annual fair at Titalya. I regretted much being unable to
accompany Dr. Campbell to this scene of his disinterested labours,
especially as the Nawab of Moorshedabad was to be present, one of the
few wealthy native princes of Bengal who still keep a court worth
seeing; but I was more anxious to continue my explorations northward
till the latest moment: I however accompanied him for a short distance
on his way towards Dorjiling. We passed the old Durbar, called
Phieungoong (“Bamboo-hill,” so named from the abundance of a small
bamboo, “Phieung.”) The buildings, now in ruins, occupy a little marshy
flat, hemmed in by slate rocks, and covered with brambles and
_Andromeda_ bushes. A wall, a bastion, and an arched gateway, are the
only traces of fortifications; they are clothed with mosses, lichens,
and ferns.
A steep zigzag path, descending amongst long grass and scarlet
rhododendrons, leads to the Kaysing Mendong.[107] Here I bade adieu to
Dr. Campbell, and toiled up the hill, feeling very lonely. The zest
with which he had entered into all my pursuits, and the aid he had
afforded me, together with the charm that always attends companionship
with one who enjoys every incident of travel, had so attracted me to
him that I found it difficult to recover my spirits. It is quite
impossible for anyone who cannot from experience realise the solitary
wandering life I had been leading for months, to appreciate the
desolate feeling that follows the parting from one who has heightened
every enjoyment, and taken far more than his share of every annoyance
and discomfort: the few days we had spent together appeared then, and
still, as months.
[107] Described at page 287.
On my return to Pemiongchi I spent the remainder of the day sketching
in the great temple, gossiping with the Lamas, and drinking salted and
buttered tea-soup, which I had begun to like, when the butter was not
rancid.
My route hence was to be along the south flank of Kinchinjunga, north
to Jongri, which lay about four or five marches off, on the road to the
long deserted pass of Kanglanamo, by which I had intended entering
Sikkim from Nepal, when I found the route up the Yalloong valley
impracticable. The village and ruined convents of Yoksun lay near the
route, and the temples of Doobdi, Catsuperri and Molli, on the Ratong
river.
I descended to the village of Tchonpong (alt. 4,980 feet), where I was
detained a day to obtain rice, of which I required ten days’ supply for
twenty-five people. On the way I passed groves of the paper-yielding
_Edgeworthia Gardneri_: it bears round heads of fragrant, beautiful,
yellow flowers, and would be a valuable acquisition to an English
conservatory.
From Tchonpong we descended to the bed of the Rungbee (alt. 3,160
feet), an affluent of the Ratong, flowing in a deep galley with
precipitous sides of mica schist full of garnets, dipping west and
north-west 45°: it was spanned by a bridge of two loose bamboo culms,
about fifteen yards long, laid across without handrails; after wet sand
had been thrown on it the bare-footed coolies crossed easily enough,
but I, having shoes on, required a hand to steady me. From this point
we crossed a lofty spur to the Ratong (alt. 3000 feet), where we
encamped, the coolies being unable to proceed further on such very bad
roads. This river descends from the snows of Kinchin, and consequently
retains the low temperature 42°, being fully 7° colder than the
Rungbee, which at an elevation of but 3000 feet appears very
remarkable: it must however be observed that scarcely anywhere does the
sun penetrate to the bottom of its valley.
We encamped on a gravelly flat, fifty feet above the river, strewn with
water-worn boulders, and so densely covered with tall _Artemisiæ,_
gigantic grasses, bamboo, plantain, fern, and acacia, that we had to
clear a space in the jungle, which exhaled a rank heavy smell.
Hoar-frost formed copiously in the night, and though above the sun’s
rays were very powerful, they did not reach this spot till 7.30 a.m.,
the frost remaining in the shade till nearly 9 a.m.; and this on
plantains, and other inhabitants of hot-houses in England.
Hence I ascended to Yoksun, one of the most curious and picturesque
spots in Sikkim, and the last inhabited place towards Kinchinjunga. The
path was excessively steep and rocky for the first mile or two, and
then alternately steep and flat. Mixed with many tropical trees, were
walnuts of the common English variety; a tree, which, though planted
here, is wild near Dorjiling, where it bears a full-sized fruit, as
hard as a hickory-nut: those I gathered in this place were similar,
whereas in Bhotan the cultivated nut is larger, thin-shelled, and the
kernel is easily removed. We ascended one slope, of an angle of 36°
30′, which was covered with light black mould, and had been recently
cleared by fire: we found millet now cultivated on it. From the top the
view of the Ratong valley was very fine: to the north lay Yoksun,
appearing from this height to occupy a flat, two miles long and one
broad, girdled by steep mountains to the north and east, dipping very
suddenly 2,200 feet to the Ratong on the west. To the right was a lofty
hill, crowned with the large temple and convents of Doobdi, shadowed by
beautiful weeping cypresses, and backed by lofty pine-clad mountains.
Northward, the gorge of the Ratong opened as a gloomy defile, above
which rose partially snowed mountains, which shut out Kinchinjunga. To
the west, massive pine-clad mountains rose steeply; while the little
hamlet of Lathiang occupied a remarkable shelf overhanging the river,
appearing inaccessible except by ropes from above. South-west, the long
spurs of Molli and Catsuperri, each crowned with convents or temples,
descended from Singalelah; and parallel to them on the south; but much
longer and more lofty, was the great mountain range north of the
Kulbait, with the temples and convents of Pemiongchi, and
Changachelling, towering in the air. The latter range dips suddenly to
the Great Rungeet, where Tassiding, with its chaits and cypresses,
closed the view. The day was half cloud, half sunshine; and the various
effects of light and shade, now bringing out one or other of the
villages and temples, now casting the deep valleys into darker gloom,
was wonderfully fine.
Yoksun was the earliest civilised corner of Sikkim, and derived its
name (which signifies in Lepcha “three chiefs”) from having been the
residence of three Lamas of great influence, who were the means of
introducing the first Tibetan sovereign into the country. At present it
boasts of but little cultivation, and a scattered population,
inhabiting a few hamlets, 5,500 feet above the sea: beautiful lanes and
paths wind everywhere over the gentle slopes, and through the copsewood
that has replaced the timber-trees of a former period. Mendongs and
chaits are very numerous, some of great size; and there are also the
ruins of two very large temples, near which are some magnificent
weeping cypresses, eighty feet high. These fine trees are landmarks
from all parts of the flat; they form irregular cones of pale bright
green, with naked gnarled tops, the branches weep gracefully, but not
like the picture in Macartney’s Embassy to China, whence originated the
famous willow-pattern of our crockery. The ultimate branchlets are very
slender and pendulous; my Lepcha boys used to make elegant chaplets of
them, binding the withes with scarlet worsted. The trunk is quite
erect, smooth, cylindrical, and pine-like; it harbours no moss, but
air-plants, Orchids, and ferns, nestle on the limbs, and pendulous
lichens, like our beard-moss, wave from the branches.
In the evening I ascended to Doobdi. The path was broad, and skilfully
conducted up a very steep slope covered with forest: the top, which is
6,470 feet above the sea, and nearly 1000 above Yoksun, is a broad
partially paved platform, on which stand two temples, surrounded by
beautiful cypresses: one of these trees (perhaps the oldest in Sikkim)
measured sixteen and a half feet in girth, at five feet from the
ground, and was apparently ninety feet high: it was not pyramidal, the
top branches being dead and broken, and the lower limbs spreading; they
were loaded with masses of white-flowered Cœlogynes, and Vacciniums.
The younger trees were pyramidal.
I was received by a monk of low degree, who made many apologies for the
absence of his superior, who had been ordered an eight years’ penance
and seclusion from the world, of which only three had passed. On
inquiry, I learnt the reason for this; the holy father having found
himself surrounded by a family, to which there would have been no
objection, had he previously obtained a dispensation. As, however, he
had omitted this preliminary, and was able to atone by prayer and
payment, he had been condemned to do penance; probably at his own
suggestion, as the seclusion will give him sanctity, and eventually
lead to his promotion, when his error shall have been forgotten.
[Illustration: Temple and weeping cypress]
Both temples are remarkable for their heavily ornamented, two-storied
porticos, which occupy nearly the whole of one end. The interior
decorations are in a ruinous condition, and evidently very old; they
have no Hindoo emblems.
The head Lama sent me a present of dried peaches, with a bag of
walnuts, called “Koal-kun” by the Lepchas, and “Taga-sching” by the
Bhoteeas; the two terminations alike signifying “tree.”
The view of Yoksun from this height was very singular: it had the
appearance of an enormous deposit banked up against a spur to the
south, and mountains to the east, and apparently levelled by the action
of water: this deposit seemed as though, having once completely filled
the valley of the Ratong, that river had cut a gorge 2000 feet deep
between it and the opposite mountain.
Although the elevation is so low, snow falls abundantly at Doobdi in
winter; I was assured that it has been known of the depth of five feet,
a statement I consider doubtful; the quantity is, however, certainly
greater than at equal heights about Dorjiling, no doubt owing to its
proximity to Kinchinjunga.
I was amused here by watching a child playing with a popgun, made of
bamboo, similar to that of quill, with which most English children are
familiar, which propels pellets by means of a spring-trigger made of
the upper part of the quill. It is easy to conclude such resemblances
between the familiar toys of different countries to be accidental, but
I question their being really so. On the plains of India, men may often
be seen for hours together, flying what with us are children’s kites;
and I procured a jews’-harp from Tibet. These are not the toys of
savages, but the amusements of people more than half-civilised, and
with whom we have had indirect communication from the earliest ages.
The Lepchas play at quoits, using slate for the purpose, and at the
Highland games of “putting the stone” and “drawing the stone.” Chess,
dice, draughts, Punch, hockey, and battledore and shuttlecock, are all
Indo-Chinese or Tartarian; and no one familiar with the wonderful
instances of similarity between the monasteries, ritual, ceremonies,
attributes, vestments, and other paraphernalia of the eastern and
western churches, can fail to acknowledge the importance of recording
even the most trifling analogies or similarities between the manners
and customs of the young as well as of the old.