THE EXPLORATION OF TIBET
Perhaps no land in the world has in modern times exercised a greater
influence over the imagination of men than the mysterious country of
Tibet. From the days of Herodotus to those of Younghusband, travellers
of all times and nations have tried to explore this unknown country,
so jealously guarded from Europeans. Surrounded by a "great wilderness
of stony and inhospitable altitudes" lay the capital, Lhasa, the seat
of the gods, the home of the Grand Lama, founded in 639 A.D., mysterious,
secluded, sacred. Kublai Khan, of Marco Polo fame, had annexed Tibet
to his vast Empire, and in 1720 the mysterious land was finally
conquered by the Chinese. The history of the exploration of Tibet and
the adjoining country, and of the various attempts to penetrate to
Lhasa, is one of the most thrilling in the annals of discovery.
We remember that Benjamin of Tudela in the twelfth century, Carpini
and William de Rubruquis in the thirteenth, all assert that they passed
through Tibet, but we have no certain records till several Italian
Capuchin friars succeeded in reaching Lhasa. There they lived and
taught for some thirty-eight years, when they were withdrawn. And the
little "Tibetan Mission," as it was called, came to an end.
It was yet early in the eighteenth century. England was taking up her
great position in India, and Warren Hastings was anxious to open up
friendly relations with Tibet beyond the great Himalaya ranges. To
this end he sent an Englishman, George Bogle, with these instructions:
"I desire you will proceed to Lhasa. The design of your mission is
to open a mutual and equal communication of trade between the
inhabitants of Tibet and Bengal. You will take with you samples, for
a trial of such articles of commerce as may be sent from this country.
And you will diligently inform yourself of the manufactures,
productions, and goods which are to be procured in Tibet. The following
will also be proper subjects for your inquiry, the nature of the roads
between the borders of Bengal and Lhasa and the neighbouring countries.
I wish you to remain a sufficient time to obtain a complete knowledge
of the country. The period of your stay must be left to your
discretion."
Bogle was young; he knew nothing of the country, but in May 1774 his
little expedition set off from Calcutta to do the bidding of Warren
Hastings. By way of Bhutan, planting potatoes at intervals according
to his orders, Bogle proceeded across the eastern Himalayas toward
the Tibetan frontier, reaching Phari, the first town in Tibet, at the
end of October. Thence they reached Gyangtse, a great trade centre
now open to foreigners, crossed the Brahmaputra, which they found was
"about the size of the Thames at Putney," and reached the residence
of the Tashi Lama, the second great potentate of Tibet. This great
dignitary and the young Englishman made great friends.
"On a carved and gilt throne amid cushions sat the Lama, cross-legged.
He was dressed in a mitre-shaped cap of yellow broadcloth with long
bars lined with red satin, a yellow cloth jacket without sleeves, and
a satin mantle of the same colour thrown over his shoulders. On one
side of him stood his physician with a bundle of perfumed sandal-wood
rods burning in his hand; on the other stood his cup-bearer."
Such was this remarkable man as first seen by the English, "venerated
as God's vice-regent through all the eastern countries of Asia." He
had heard much of the power of the "Firinghis," as he called the English.
"As my business is to pray to God," he said to Bogle, "I was afraid
to admit any Firinghis into the country. But I have since learned that
they are a fair and just people."
[Illustration: THE POTALA AT LHASA: A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY VIEW. From
Kircher's _China Illustrata_. The only good representation of the
Potala until photographs were obtainable in the twentieth century.]
Bogle would have proceeded to Lhasa, the home of the Grand Lama, but
this permission was refused, and he had to return to India with the
information he had collected.
The next Englishman to enter Tibet was Thomas Manning, the first to
reach the sacred city of Lhasa. He was a private adventurer, who had
lived in China and learnt the language. Attended by a Chinese servant,
and wearing a flowing beard of singular length, he left Calcutta,
crossed into Bhutan, and arrived at the Tibetan border in October 1811.
Then he crossed the Brahmaputra in a large ferry-boat, and arrived
within seven miles of Lhasa. On 9th December the first European entered
the sacred city since the expulsion of the Capuchin friars. The view
of the famous Potala, the lofty towering palace, filled him with
admiration, but the city of which Europe, knowing nothing, had exalted
into a magnificent place, was very disappointing.
"We passed under a large gateway," says Manning, "whose gilded
ornaments were so ill-fixed that some leaned one way and some another.
The road as it winds round the palace is royally broad; it swarmed
with monks, and beggars were basking in the sun. There is nothing
striking in its appearance; the habitations are begrimed with smut
and dirt. The avenues are full of dogs--in short, everything seems
mean and gloomy. Having provided himself with a proper hat, Manning
went to the Potala to salute the Grand Lama, taking with him a pair
of brass candlesticks with two wax candles, some 'genuine Smith's
lavender water, and a good store of Nankin tea, which is a rare delicacy
at Lhasa. Ushered into the presence of the Grand Lama, a child of seven,
he touched his head three times on the floor, after the custom of the
country, and, taking off his hat, knelt to be blessed by the little
monarch.' He had the simple and unaffected manners of a well-educated
princely child. His face was affectingly beautiful--his beautiful
mouth was perpetually unbending into a graceful smile, which
illuminated his whole countenance."
Here Manning spent four months, at the end of which time he was recalled
from Pekin, and reluctantly he was obliged to return the way he came.
The next man to reach the forbidden city was a Jesuit missionary, the
Abbe Huc, who reached Lhasa in 1846 from China. He had adopted the
dress of the Tibetan Lama--the yellow cap and gown--and he piloted
his little caravan across the wide steppes on horseback, while his
fellow-missionary, Gabet, rode a camel and their one Tartar retainer
rode a black mule. It took them a year and a half to reach the sacred
city of Lhasa, for many and great were the difficulties of the way.
Their first difficulty lay in crossing the Yellow River, which was
in flood.
"It is quite impossible to cross the Yellow River," they were told.
"Eight days ago the river overflowed its banks and the plains are
completely flooded."
"The Tartars only told us the truth," remarked Huc sadly. "The Yellow
River had become a vast sea, the limits of which were scarcely visible:
houses and villages looked as though they were floating upon the waves.
What were we to do? To turn back was out of the question. We had vowed
that, God willing, we would go to Lhasa whatever obstacles impeded."
And so they did. The camels were soon up to their knees in a thick
slimy compost of mud and water, over which the poor animals slid on
their painful way. Their courage was rewarded, native ferry-boats came
to their rescue, and they reached the other side in safety. They were
now on the main caravan route to the Tibetan frontier and the Koko-Nor.
Immense caravans were met, with strings of camels extending for miles
in length. Three times between the Yellow River and the Koko-Nor Lake
did they pass the Great Wall built in 214 A.D. After over four months
of travel Huc arrived at the monastery of Kunkum on the borderland
of Tibet. This was the home of four thousand Lamas all clothed in red
dresses and yellow mitres, and thither resorted the worshippers of
Buddha from all parts of Tartary and Tibet.
"The site is one of enchanting beauty," says Huc. "Imagine in a
mountain-side a deep, broad ravine adorned with fine trees and alive
with the cawing of rooks and yellow-beaked crows and the amusing
chatter of magpies. On the two sides of the ravine and on the slopes
of the mountain rise the white dwellings of the Lamas. Amid the dazzling
whiteness of these modest habitations rise numerous Buddhist temples
with gilt roofs, sparkling with a thousand brilliant colours. Here
the travellers stayed for three months, after which they made their
way on to the Koko-Nor Lake.
"As we advanced," says Huc, "the country became more fertile, until
we reached the vast and magnificent pasturage of Koko-Nor. Here
vegetation is so vigorous that the grass rose up to the stomachs of
our camels. Soon we discovered far before us what seemed a broad silver
riband. Our leader informed us that this was the Blue Sea. We urged
on our animals, and the sun had not set when we planted our tent within
a hundred paces of the waters of the great Blue Lake. This immense
reservoir of water seems to merit the title of sea rather than merely
that of lake. To say nothing of its vast extent, its waters are bitter
and salt, like those of the ocean."
After a month spent on the shores of the Blue Lake, an opportunity
offered for the advance. Towards the end of October they found that
an embassy from Lhasa to Pekin was returning in great force. This would
afford Huc and his companion safe travelling from the hordes of
brigands that infested the route through Tibet. The caravan was
immense. There were fifteen hundred oxen, twelve hundred horses, and
as many camels, and about two thousand men. The ambassador was carried
in a litter. Such was the multitude which now started for the thousand
miles across Tibet to Lhasa.
After crossing the great Burkhan Buddha range, the caravan came to
the Shuga Pass, about seventeen thousand feet high, and here their
troubles began.
"When the huge caravan first set itself in motion," says Huc, "the
sky was clear, and a brilliant moon lit up the great carpet of snow
with which the whole country was covered. We were able to attain the
summit by sunrise. Then the sky became thickly overcast with clouds
and the wind began to blow with a violence which became more and more
intense."
Snow fell heavily and several animals perished. They marched in the
teeth of an icy wind which almost choked them, whirlwinds of snow
blinded them, and when they reached the foot of the mountain at last,
M. Gabet found that his nose and ears were frostbitten. As they
proceeded, the cold became more intense. "The demons of snow, wind,
and cold were set loose on the caravan with a fury which seemed to
increase from day to day."
"One cannot imagine a more terrible country," says poor Huc.
Not only were the animals dying from cold and exposure, but men were
beginning to drop out and die. Forty of the party died before the
plateau of Tangla had been crossed, a proceeding which lasted twelve
days. The track, some sixteen thousand feet above the sea, was bordered
by the skeletons of mules and camels, and monstrous eagles followed
the caravan. The scenery was magnificent, line upon line of snow-white
pinnacles stretched southward and westward under a bright sun. The
descent was "long, brusque, and rapid, like the descent of a gigantic
ladder." At the lower altitude snow and ice disappeared. It was the
end of January 1846, when at last our two travellers found themselves
approaching the longed-for city of Lhasa.
"The sun was nearly setting," says Huc, "when we found ourselves in
a vast plain and saw on our right Lhasa, the famous metropolis of the
Buddhist world. After eighteen months' struggle with sufferings and
obstacles of infinite number and variety, we were at length arrived
at the termination of our journey, though not at the close of our
miseries."
Huc's account of the city agrees well with that of Manning: "The palace
of the Dalai Lama," he says, "merits the celebrity which it enjoys
throughout the world. Upon a rugged mountain, the mountain of Buddha,
the adorers of the Lama have raised the magnificent palace wherein
their Living Divinity resides in the flesh. This place is made up of
various temples; that which occupies the centre is four storeys high;
it terminates in a dome entirely covered with plates of gold. It is
here the Dalai Lama has set up his abode. From the summit of his lofty
sanctuary he can contemplate his innumerable adorers prostrate at the
foot of the divine mountain. But in the town all was different--all
are engaged in the grand business of buying and selling, all is noise,
pushing, excitement, confusion."
Here Huc and his companion resided for two and a half months, opening
an oratory in their house and even making a few Christian converts.
But soon they were ordered to leave, and reluctantly they travelled
back to China, though by a somewhat different route.
After this the Tibetans guarded their capital more zealously than
before. Przhevalsky, "that grand explorer of Russian nationality,"
spent years in exploring Tibet, but when within a hundred and sixty
miles of Lhasa he was stopped, and never reached the forbidden city.
Others followed. Prince Henri of Orleans got to within one hundred
miles of Lhasa, Littledale and his wife to within fifty miles. Sven
Hedin, the "Prince of Swedish explorers," who had made so many famous
journeys around and about Tibet, was making a dash for the capital
disguised as a Mongolian pilgrim when he, too, was stopped.
"A long black line of Tibetan horsemen rode towards us at full gallop,"
he relates. "It was not raining just at that moment, so there was
nothing to prevent us from witnessing what was in truth a very
magnificent spectacle. It was as though a living avalanche were
sweeping down upon us. A moment more and we should be annihilated!
We held our weapons ready. On came the Tibetans in one long line
stretching across the plain. We counted close upon seventy in all.
In the middle rode the chief on a big handsome mule, his staff of
officers all dressed in their finest holiday attire. The wings
consisted of soldiers armed to the teeth with gun, sword, and lance.
The great man, Kamba Bombo, pulled up in front of our tent." After
removing a red Spanish cloak and hood he "stood forth arrayed in a
suit of yellow silk with wide arms and a little blue Chinese skull-cap.
His feet were encased in Mongolian boots of green velvet. He was
magnificent."
"You will not go another step towards Lhasa," he said. "If you do you
will lose your heads. It doesn't the least matter who you are or where
you come from. You must go back to your headquarters."
So an escort was provided and sorrowfully Sven Hedin turned his back
on the jealously guarded town he had striven so hard to reach.
The expedition, or rather mission, under Colonel Younghusband in 1904
brings to an end our history of the exploration of Tibet. He made his
way to Lhasa from India; he stood in the sacred city, and "except for
the Potala" he found it a "sorry affair." He succeeded in getting a
trade Treaty signed, and he rode hastily back to India and travelled
thence to England. The importance of the mission was accentuated by
the fact that the flag, a Union Jack bearing the motto, "Heaven's Light
our Guide," carried by the expedition and placed on the table when
the Treaty was signed in Lhasa, hangs to-day in the Central Hall at
Windsor over the statue of Queen Victoria.
The veil so long drawn over the capital of Tibet had been at last torn
aside, and the naked city had been revealed in all its "weird
barbarity." Plans of the "scattered and ill-regulated" city are now
familiar, the Potala has been photographed, the Grand Lama has been
drawn, and if, with the departure of Younghusband, the gates of Lhasa
were once more closed, voices from beyond the snowy Himalayas must
be heard again ere long.
[Illustration: THE WORLD'S MOST MYSTERIOUS CITY UNVEILED: LHASA AND
THE POTALA. From a photograph by a member of Younghusband's expedition
to Tibet and Lhasa, 1909(?).]