TACHIENLU
I remained in Tachienlu, where I found excellent quarters in a Tibetan
inn, from 23rd March to 15th April. During this period of more than
three weeks I exchanged visits with the Chinese prefect and the Tibetan
chief or "king" of Chala, and made excursions to various places of
interest in the vicinity. My main object in staying so long in one
place was that I might devote some attention to the Tibetan language,
of which I had previously acquired a very rudimentary knowledge.
With this end in view I engaged a native teacher, a pleasant and
mild-mannered old gentleman, who, in the approved Tibetan fashion, put
out his tongue at me most respectfully whenever I chanced to pronounce
or spell a word correctly. He officiated at the king's court as a
kind of soothsayer. I hoped that my acquaintance with him might lead
me to endorse the opinion of Marco Polo, that among the Tibetans are
to be found "the best enchanters and astrologers that exist in all
that quarter of the world." They, he goes on to remark, "perform such
extraordinary marvels and sorceries by diabolic art that it astounds
one to see or even hear of them."[161] Ser Marco was more fortunate
than I was, for no blandishments on my part could wring any necromantic
secrets from my soothsayer. But perhaps he had none to impart.
The climate of Tachienlu, as might be expected at an altitude of over
8,000 feet, is very bracing. The temperature sometimes sank to the
freezing point, and snow often fell during the night, but the days
were almost uniformly bright and sunny. There was a slight shock of
earthquake on 30th March, and I was told that the occurrence was
a common one; certainly it caused no consternation. The people of
Tachienlu are generally healthy and vigorous, but the annual recurrence
of typhus fever is a great scourge. The poorer class of Tibetan house
is exceedingly dirty, and it can only be the fine climate that prevents
Tachienlu from being frequently devastated by terrible epidemics.
[Sidenote: THE LHASA AMBAN]
I have already observed that west of the river Ta Tu the country is
ruled by tribal chiefs, and is not under the direct rule of China. The
chiefs are never interfered with so long as they abstain from political
intrigues, and are punctual in the payment of their small tribute to
the Chinese Government. The Chinese, however, fully recognise the
importance of controlling the main road into Tibet proper; they have,
therefore, stationed an officer of prefectural rank (_chün liang fu_)
at Tachienlu, and his duty it is to protect Chinese interests, and
keep a watch over the movements of the Tibetan chiefs and kings. He
exercises jurisdiction over the Chinese of the district--there are very
few outside the town itself--but has no judicial or administrative
control over the rest of the population. His official duties are
chiefly connected with transport and commissariat arrangements, and
in keeping up regular communications between the governor-general in
Ch'êng-tu and the amban[162] or _ch'in ch'ai_ at Lhasa. At the time
of my visit his hands were full owing to the frontier war, and he was
also burdened with the responsibility of looking after the new amban,
who arrived in Tachienlu shortly before me on his way to Lhasa, and
was still there when I left three weeks later. His predecessor, it may
be remembered, was brutally murdered at the instigation of the lamas
on the Tibetan frontier; and it was freely admitted by the new amban's
numerous retinue that his courage, which had steadily diminished as he
proceeded westwards, had vanished altogether when he reached Tachienlu.
When it appeared that the frontier war showed no signs of coming to
an end he applied, I understand, for leave to proceed to Lhasa by way
of India; but this request was promptly refused by his superiors at
Peking. Some yak-loads of his baggage started for the west shortly
before I left the city, and I presume he had made up his mind to make a
start soon afterwards. The turbulent condition of the tributary states
which had culminated in the murder of some French missionaries and the
assassination of the amban seems to have forced the Chinese Government
to give its serious attention to the problems of the frontier. As
usually happens in China, the policy determined on was one of ruthless
severity. Two large lamaseries were destroyed by the Chinese troops,
several of the leading lamas were put to death, and the rest driven
westward at the point of the sword. Two tributary Tibetan chiefs, of
rank nearly equal to that of the king of Tachienlu, were found guilty
of treasonable intrigues, and promptly executed. All these persons, if
the stories told of them were true, seem to have deserved their fate.
The events had occurred some time before my arrival in Tachienlu, but
as the war was still in progress, and the lamas of the extreme west
were known to be the implacable enemies of China, future possibilities
still agitated the minds of Chinese and Tibetans alike.
[Sidenote: POLITICS IN TACHIENLU]
The loyalty of the chief or king of Chala was probably above question,
and he was quite powerful enough to control any restlessness that might
show itself among the lamas of his own principality; but there was
some reason to believe that pressure was being brought to bear on the
Chinese Government from an unknown source to induce it to abolish all
the territorial chieftainships, and parcel out the whole country into
regular magistracies under Chinese officials right up to the nominal
frontier of Tibet proper. It was rumoured that Tibet itself was to be
turned into a Chinese province, and furnished with the usual hierarchy
of Chinese officials--the main object probably being to frustrate
the supposed designs of England on that country--and that Ssuch'uan
was to be divided into two separate provinces. In view of all these
possibilities, it is clear that the position of the tributary princes
of Ssuch'uan was, and probably still is, a somewhat precarious one;
and that the king of Chala, who could at any moment be placed under
lock and key by the prefect at Tachienlu, would probably be the first
to suffer from the change of policy. It would not be difficult for an
unscrupulous Chinese official to trump up vague charges of treason
which might quickly lead to the king's overthrow. Among other rumours
I heard that the Ya-chou taotai was expected to move his headquarters
temporarily or permanently to Tachienlu, and that the king's palace had
already been selected as a suitable residence for him. The king had not
apparently been consulted in this little matter. How the local politics
of Chala have developed since I left that distracted kingdom I have
had no opportunity of learning; but if in another five years the king
is still swaying the fortunes of his little monarchy he will deserve a
good deal of credit for his skilful manipulation of affairs during a
very trying period.
The territory of this potentate, including that of the small chiefs
subordinate to him, extends from the Ta Tu river on the east to the
Yalung on the west, and for about seventeen days' journey from north to
south. The name of his principality is spelt in Tibetan _Lchags-la_,
but, as usual in Tibetan words, it is not pronounced as it is written.
Lchlags (pronounced _cha_) is the Tibetan for "iron," and _la_ means a
mountain-pass. The Chinese transliteration[163] of the word would in
the Pekingese dialect read Chia-na: but in western Mandarin the _i_
is elided, and the _n_ is sounded like an _l._ The king's own name in
Chinese is Chia I Chai.[164] His Tibetan title, _gyal-po_, which means
"king" or "ruling prince," sufficiently well expresses the nature
of the authority which he exercises.[165] Rockhill describes him as
"one of the most powerful chiefs of eastern Tibet, for among them he
alone demands and obtains obedience from the lamas dwelling in his
principality."[166] He rules by hereditary right, and has absolute
power over the lives and fortunes of his subjects. The Chinese in his
territory are exempt from his jurisdiction, but they are so few in
number, except in the city itself, that the exemption counts for little.
[Sidenote: ULA]
Beyond the periodical payment of a small tribute, the only concession
which he is obliged to make to the suzerain power is the privilege of
_ula_. This word is neither Chinese nor Tibetan, but is in universal
use in Mongolia and Tibetan countries.[167] _Ula_ is a system whereby
all Tibetans living in the neighbourhood or within a certain distance
of a caravan route are compelled to furnish Government officials
(Chinese and Tibetan) with men, baggage-animals, and food, either free
of all cost or for a very small fixed sum. The system has given rise to
great abuses, and has in some places caused so much distress among the
people that whole villages have been abandoned and rich valleys left
uncultivated. The subjects of the king of Chala were groaning under
the weight of the _ula_ system at the time of my visit, and I heard
the king himself lamenting the sufferings which--owing to the greed
and harshness of Chinese military officials--it caused his people.
The burden at that time was more than usually heavy, for the Chinese
Government insisted on exacting its full rights of _ula_ in connection
with the carriage of military supplies to the scene of warfare.
The only three official buildings of any importance in Tachienlu are
the residences or yamêns of the king, the prefect or _chün liang fu_
and a Chinese colonel (_hsieh-t'ai_). Of these by far the largest
is the king's. I visited him a day or two after my arrival, and was
received very cordially. He is a man of about forty years of age, of
rather delicate appearance, but active and vivacious. He speaks Chinese
(with a strong Ssuch'uan accent) in addition to his own language,
and has adopted Chinese dress. His position in Tachienlu cannot be
a very pleasant one, owing to the peculiar nature of his relations
with the Chinese Government. The prefect appears to regard him as a
kind of enlightened savage, and apparently considers that the most
effective method of demonstrating the superiority of the suzerain
power is to treat the vassal with the least respect possible. The
Chinese regard all Tibetans much as they used to regard Europeans--as
barbarians outside the pale of true civilisation. I heard it stated
that if a Chinese in Tachienlu kills a Tibetan he is merely mulcted in
two packets of tea, but that if a Tibetan kills a Chinese the lives
of three Tibetans must pay the forfeit; I cannot, however, vouch for
the truth of this. The king would be glad to remove the centre of his
government to another part of his territories and leave Tachienlu to
the absolute control of China; but this he is not allowed to do. A few
years ago a lama versed in magic spells prophesied to the king that
if he spent any one of the next three consecutive New Year seasons in
Tachienlu great misfortunes would fall upon him, but that if he spent
them elsewhere all would be well. The king, who like all Tibetans is
prone to superstition, lent a willing ear to the wisdom of the lama,
and spent the last and first months of the next two years in one of
his mountain retreats. When the third New Year season came round the
frontier war had commenced, and the king's presence was urgently
necessary in Tachienlu in connection with the transport arrangements;
but his superstitious dread of unknown calamities again decided him to
retire to the mountains. He came back in due course to find that he was
in trouble.
[Sidenote: "SWORN BROTHERS"]
The _ula_ arrangements had suffered by his absence, and the Chinese
officials held him to blame. Since then he has been zealously
endeavouring to regain the confidence of his Chinese masters, with
only partial success. His friendly intercourse with the few Europeans
he has met is regarded somewhat suspiciously by the Chinese as well
as by the lamas; and it is possible that when the days of trial and
tribulation come to him he will look--I fear he will look in vain--to
his European friends for protection and support. With two or three of
his Protestant missionary friends he has actually entered into "sworn
brotherhood,"[168] an old Chinese custom whereby close friends enter
into a mutual compact which creates between them a kind of fictitious
relationship. This may explain a not quite accurate passage which
occurs in Waddell's recent book, _Lhasa and its Mysteries_.[169] He
says that "the Tibetan chief of Dartsendo (Tachienlu), the king of
'Chala,' is especially well-disposed towards foreigners; and when the
Dalai Lama threatened to punish him on this account, he is reported to
have become 'sworn brothers' with the Protestant Christian _Tibetans_."
Colonel Waddell adds that the king of Chala was said to be building
forts in his country, and could put ten thousand fighting men in the
field; but I know no reason for supposing that the king's intentions
are other than entirely pacific.
A few weeks' residence in Tachienlu served to open my eyes to the
fact that scandal and gossip are not confined to Western societies.
Even the Tibetan is sufficiently civilised to take an intelligent
interest in his neighbour's sins. One story which caused much hilarity
among the Smart Set of Tachienlu concerned the wife of a certain court
official. A distinguished person of royal lineage (not the king) is
a man who is known to be of an amorous disposition, and has been the
hero of several pathetic romances. He gazed upon the court official's
lady and saw that she was fair. Steps were immediately taken to send
the husband on a mission to a far country, he having been assured that
his domestic interests would be carefully protected in his absence.
The lady, reluctantly or otherwise, speedily bestowed her caresses on
her exalted lover. For some time all went well; but, unlike the less
fortunate Uriah in the Biblical story, the official returned to his
family in safety, discovered the intrigue, and promptly repudiated his
lady. The tragedy of the situation consists in the fact that she was
also repudiated by her "royal" lover, his fickle affections having
meanwhile found another object. The lady subsequently consoled herself
by marrying a Chinese merchant, and is said to be still carrying on a
monotonous existence within the curtained recesses of that gentleman's
private house. The episode is one which might perhaps be commended to
Mr Stephen Phillips for dramatic treatment.
[Sidenote: TACHIENLU GOSSIP]
Court intrigues have given rise to incidents more sombre than this. The
last king, elder brother of the present one, is said to have had the
date of his death foretold to him by a certain lama. When the date was
close at hand, the king took ill and died, after two days' illness,
exactly on the date prophesied. For some dark reason the lama--who
should probably have been tried for murder--succeeded in acquiring such
potent influence over the dead man's successor, the present king, that
he persuaded his Majesty to adopt his daughter. Quite apart from the
fact that lamas have no right to possess daughters at all, it does not
seem to be quite clear what the lama stood to gain by this proceeding.
The king was at that time childless, but he has since acquired a
daughter of his own. I saw both the lama's child and the king's during
a visit to the Summer Palace in the mountains, and was astonished
to find that the lama's daughter--a little girl of eight--was being
brought up as a boy, and was attired in boy's clothes. There was some
mystery connected with the whole affair which I failed to fathom. As
may be gathered from stories of this kind, the lamas do not enjoy a
good reputation. Their private morals are not above reproach, and they
are too fond of meddling in mundane affairs; but they do not wield the
great political power of which in other Tibetan states the lamas have
gradually possessed themselves.
The heir to the "kingdom" is the king's younger brother, a very amiable
man whose love of outdoor sports would endear him to the heart of
many an Englishman. He does not meddle with questions of _la haute
politique_, and loves to spend his time in the delightful mountain
residence to which I have just referred as the Summer Palace, a place
known in Chinese as the Yü Lin Kung. I was invited to spend a few
days there as the king's guest, and was received and most hospitably
entertained by his brother. It is a large, rambling building,
beautifully situated in a lonely spot among the mountains about 8 miles
from Tachienlu. One of the greatest attractions of this place is a hot
sulphur spring, the water from which is made to flow into a capacious
tiled bath. The Tibetans are said to be an unclean race--and I will
not gainsay it--but they delight in hot water when they can get it.
The neighbouring forests are strictly preserved for sporting purposes,
and afford splendid cover for pheasants and other game. Our "bag"
was an insignificant one; but I was filled with admiration for the
zeal of the king's brother, who was armed only with an old-fashioned
muzzle-loading weapon of venerable appearance and doubtful efficiency.
He deserved success, if he failed to command it. Behind the palace
are some of the tombs of the royal family. They are surrounded by
clusters of prayer-flags--strips of white cloth tied to the top of
sticks or slender poles and bearing the usual prayer formulas. Close
by is a rivulet in which there is a large prayer-wheel: a large wooden
cylinder, appropriately inscribed, placed perpendicularly in a strong
framework of timber. Through the cylinder runs a fixed wooden pin, and
the whole structure is so arranged that the lower end of the cylinder
is always in the water. The flow of the stream causes it to revolve
unceasingly, and each revolution is supposed to be equivalent to a
single utterance of the words, _om mane padme hom_. The prayer-flags
and prayer-wheels may thus be regarded as continually engaged in saying
masses for the souls of the dead princes. In my subsequent travels
through the Tibetan states I found wheels and flags of the same kind
in great abundance; and they are, of course, well known to all who
have travelled anywhere in Tibet. As a rule, a cluster of flags is all
that marks a Tibetan graveyard, especially in places where cremation
is the general method of disposing of the dead. Prayer-wheels may
be found wherever there is flowing water; and I observed that the
Tibetans--who have not as much objection as the Chinese to imbibing
cold water--would often stop to drink just below a prayer-wheel, as if
under the impression that the water, which had performed the pious act
of turning the wheel, had acquired thereby some mysterious sanctity. In
connection with this I may mention that holy water is not a monopoly of
Roman Catholic countries, for it is quite commonly used for ritualistic
purposes in lama temples. As every reader knows, this is not the only
respect in which there are resemblances or coincidences--sometimes
startling enough--between the ceremonial usages of lamaism and
Catholicism.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE "SUMMER PALACE" NEAR TACHIENLU.
[_To face p. 142._]
[Sidenote: PRAYER-WHEELS]
Prayer-wheels[170] may be turned either by water or by hand. The
ordinary small hand-wheel is constantly seen in the hands of both lamas
and laymen. Old men, especially, who are anxious to devote their
slender remnant of life in acquiring new merit or destroying bad karma,
hardly ever go out of doors without their wheels. They twirl them with
their fingers as they walk, and years of practice enable them to do
it without any conscious effort: indeed, I fancy that many old men
would twirl an imaginary wheel if the reality were taken from them.
It is curious to note that the older a wheel is--that is, the more
it has been twirled--the more valuable it becomes; for few Tibetans
will exchange an old wheel for a new one, and only the direst poverty
will induce them to sell this most precious of all their possessions
to a curio-hunter. Another form of hand-wheel is similar in size
and appearance to a water-wheel. It is inserted perpendicularly in
specially-constructed recesses, and may be twirled round its pin by any
devout passer-by. Sometimes it is found in the wall of a temple, and
not infrequently in a private house. In the latter case it is generally
found inside the house on the right-hand side of the main doorway
as one enters. Every one who goes in or out gives it a revolution
or two. The stranger on entering thus confers a kind of benediction
on his host, and at the same time accumulates a little merit for
himself. The custom is an amiable one, and certainly does no one any
harm. Not content with flags and prayer-wheels, the Tibetans are also
very fond of erecting piles of stones on which are loosely-placed
innumerable flat slabs, of varying shapes and sizes, each bearing
the _om mane_ formula in large, carved letters. These are variously
termed _obo_,[171] _mani-drombo_ and _mani-dong_. They were specially
numerous in the country through which I passed after leaving Tachienlu,
but there are many of them also in the immediate neighbourhood of
that town. Lamaism shares with other forms of Buddhism the rule that
sacred objects should, as far as possible, be kept on the right-hand
side. Where an obo or mani-drombo occurs, therefore, the road always
bifurcates so as to enable the devout traveller to keep it on his right
whichever way he is going. The inscribed slabs are the pious gifts of
pilgrims, or of any person who wishes to conciliate or show his respect
to the unseen powers. Every lamasery has among its inmates one or two
masons who are employed by such persons in carving the inscriptions.
[Sidenote: CHOICE OF ROUTE]
Before reaching Tachienlu I had purposely left undecided the route
to be followed thereafter, as I was only too well aware of the
obstructions which the authorities would be certain to put in my way
when I attempted to leave the main routes. I had a vague idea of making
an effort to cross the frontier into Tibet proper, and so proceeding
to Lhasa by the route which no European has traversed since the
days of the abbé Huc; but it soon became obvious that this would be
impossible--at least so long as a state of war existed on the border.
The Chinese prefect had no doubt acquainted himself with the fact that
I was engaged in the study of Tibetan, and when I called upon him he
showed considerable anxiety and curiosity as to my intentions. The new
amban showing no eagerness to avail himself of a unique opportunity to
add a British adviser to his staff, and the undertaking being otherwise
impossible in the face of Chinese and Tibetan opposition, I was obliged
to give up the idea of a ride to Lhasa, and had to fall back on my
original intention of travelling through the Sino-Tibetan states of
the Yalung valley to the north-west of Yunnan. If I were prevented by
official opposition from following this route as well, I decided to
return to the Ta Tu river, and find my way down the Chien-ch'ang valley
to Yüeh-hsi and Ning-yuan-fu, the route which has been made famous by
the journey of Marco Polo, and has been in recent years traversed by
E. C. Baber and Sir A. Hosie. With regard to this route I was told
that the road was much infested by robbers--Lolos and others--and that
many of the inn-keepers had entered into a league with them to drug
and rob, and, if necessary, murder their visitors. There was only one
way to avoid molestation, and that was by the discovery and use of the
robbers' password. The utterance of this word on appropriate occasions
would not only ensure safety, but would remove all difficulties about
transport and supplies. The person (a Chinese in Government employment)
who gave me this information, and who may, for all I know, have had
personal dealings with the gang, was so obliging as to give me the
password itself, which consisted, he said, of the single word _Ku_
("old"). As I did not, after all, follow this interesting route, and
therefore had no opportunity of testing the efficacy of the word, I can
only express the hope that the timely information now given will be of
service to future travellers.
[Sidenote: THE YALUNG VALLEY]
The Yalung valley is one of the least-known portions of the Chinese
empire. In 1895-96 M. Bonin, a French Colonial official, travelled from
Tali-fu to Tachienlu by a route which to a certain extent coincided
with that taken by myself, and three years later a Swedish missionary,
Mr E. Amundsen, travelled in the reverse direction by a road which
was evidently almost the same as my own. But no Englishman[172] had
traversed the same route before me, and as I had no opportunity of
reading the narratives published by either M. Bonin or Mr Amundsen
until my return to civilisation, I unfortunately derived no benefit
from their previous experience: but their accounts, though interesting,
are very meagre in detail and of tantalising brevity.[173] A glance
at the map will show that my route lay across the mountains to the
south-west of Tachienlu. On crossing the Yalung it enters the Muli or
Huang Lama, and thence it crosses the Yunnan frontier a few miles north
of Yung-ning-fu. Short as the total distance appears on the map, the
series of great mountain ranges over which the road passes makes the
journey a long one and arduous. A few Yunnanese merchants[174] choose
this route to Ssuch'uan in order to avoid the likin-stations in the
Chien-ch'ang valley; but the great difficulties of arranging for the
safe transport of merchandise over snowy passes and unbridged rivers
have given it a bad reputation.
[Sidenote: OFFICIAL OBSTRUCTION]
Even at Tachienlu I was unable to gather much information about the
country. The king himself appeared to have a very scanty knowledge of
the southern part of his own territory. As soon as he and the Chinese
prefect heard of my intention--and it was impossible to conceal it from
them--the strongest objections were immediately raised. The road was
impassable, the mountains were covered with snow that never melted, the
lamas were hostile, the whole country was infested with robbers and
wild beasts, and I should find neither food nor means of transport. I
had already satisfied myself by private enquiry among the Tibetans and
some Yunnanese merchants that the route was feasible, and that nothing
was to be feared beyond the ordinary difficulties and hardships of
travelling in a very wild region sparsely populated. I felt that if
the road were safe and easy enough for an occasional trading caravan,
it should also be safe and easy enough for an Englishman burdened
with little beyond clothes and gun. I therefore declined to put faith
in the exaggerated descriptions with which the officials endeavoured
to frighten me, and insisted upon the right conferred upon me by my
passport to travel where I chose. We exchanged several messages on
the subject, and in personal interviews I made it as clear as possible
that none of the difficulties which they had mentioned seemed to me
sufficiently imposing to justify me in altering the route on which I
had determined. The prefect, however, was particularly strenuous in his
efforts to dissuade me from my purpose, and pointed out that he would
be powerless to grant me any protection during the journey, and that
the risks and dangers would be considerable. I need hardly say that his
concern was not for me personally, but was due to his fears of what
might happen to himself in the event of my coming to grief. From this
point of view his attitude was reasonable enough. The upshot of a long
discussion was that the king of Chala and the prefect allowed me to set
out on my consenting to sign declarations in English and Chinese to the
effect that all responsibility for my safety was to rest with myself.
The first of these declarations ran as follows:
"This is to certify that I have been fully informed by the Ming Chêng
Ssŭ (king of Chala) that the road by which I intend to travel from
Tachienlu to the borders of Yunnan, _viâ_ the southern portions of his
territory and the country known as Huang Lama, is beset with great
difficulties, and that my journey will be very arduous and possibly
dangerous. Having been fully assured of these circumstances, and
having nevertheless decided to traverse the country in question, I
wish it to be understood that I undertake the journey at my own risk
and on my own responsibility, and that the king of Chala is not to
be held responsible for any delay or accident that may occur in the
course of such journey so far as it lies within his territory."
This document was handed to Mr Moyes, to be used by him to save the
king from blame in the event of an accident. A similar declaration,
containing the name of the Chinese prefect instead of that of the king,
was handed directly to that official before my departure. I perhaps
created an unwise precedent; but as the prefect seemed determined to
prevent my departure unless I relieved him of all responsibility, I was
left with no option. The British Consular authorities, I knew, would do
nothing: they had already declined to countenance my travelling by this
route.
[Sidenote: TIBETAN BORDER-LAND]
The fears of the officials with regard to possible dangers were in some
respects justifiable. A great part of the country between the Yalung
and the borders of Tibet proper was and is under the direct or indirect
control of lamas, who show very little respect for Chinese suzerainty.
It was only recently that two French missionaries were cruelly
butchered by the lamas somewhere near the Tali-Batang trade route;
and a young Scotsman named Forrest, who had been collecting botanical
specimens in the same locality, only escaped with his life after being
hunted by the lamas with dogs, and suffering extraordinary privations.
The country into which my road should lead me after crossing the
Yalung was also directly ruled by lamas; and while I was in Tachienlu
there were rumours to the effect that the lama-prince of that region,
though far from the scene of actual fighting, was not only secretly
supporting the rebels, but had caused the roads in his territory to
be torn up and blocked in order to prevent the advance of Chinese
reinforcements from Yunnan. The war, indeed, was not progressing
altogether favourably for the Chinese. It was whispered that on one
occasion a whole regiment had been cut to pieces during a night attack.
The Tibetans had eluded the sentries, who were probably asleep, rushed
the camp, put out the fires, slaughtered many defenceless soldiers, and
then quietly vanished, leaving the Chinese to shoot and stab each other
in the extremity of their panic. Other rumours stated that five hundred
Chinese troops had joined the Tibetans, and were receiving from them
twelve _tiao_ (about thirty shillings) a month each--much larger pay
than they drew from China; and that the tributary prince of Litang--the
state that adjoins Chala on the west--was only waiting to hear of
another serious reverse to the Chinese troops before throwing in his
lot with the rebels. Probably these rumours were much exaggerated, but
they caused much uneasiness to the Chinese of Tachienlu, who for a long
time past had been living in constant dread of a massacre. I heard that
some time before my arrival the Tibetans were expected to attempt a
great _coup_ by making a sudden descent on Tachienlu itself, and any
Tibetan in the city who was suspected of treasonable dealings with
the rebels was imprisoned or closely watched. The principal Chinese
merchants sent the bulk of their goods to Wa Ssŭ Kou or Lu Ting Ch'iao,
and were ready to start for the east themselves at the first signs
of serious trouble. The worst of the panic had passed away before
my arrival, chiefly owing to the vigour and severity with which the
Government was dealing with the insurrection and the large numbers of
Chinese soldiers that almost daily passed through Tachienlu on their
way to the front.
Whether the prefect was sincere in his apprehensions regarding my
safety if I insisted on crossing the wilder parts of the eastern
Tibetan states I have no means of knowing; at any rate, he appeared
to regard the written declaration already quoted as sufficient to
relieve him of all responsibility in the matter; and as soon as that
question was settled, both he and the king showed themselves ready to
give me every reasonable assistance, and placed no further obstacles
in my way. The king deputed a man of his own--a Tibetan who spoke a
little Chinese--to act as my guide to the boundary of his territory on
the Yalung river, and the prefect and colonel ordered three soldiers
to escort me as far as the town of Yung-ning, just within the Yunnan
frontier. I had also previously engaged a young man, whose father was
a Chinese and his mother a Tibetan from Lhasa, to act as my personal
servant, and this youth accompanied me almost as far as the frontier
of Upper Burma. As a speaker of both Tibetan and Chinese, he proved
a useful member of my party. The king was also obliging enough to
accord to me the valuable privilege of _ula_, which would (within his
territory) obviate all difficulties about transport. The _ula_ was in
this instance no hardship for the people, as I undertook to pay more
than double the ordinary rates for all animals required for my use.
[Illustration: 1. CHINESE HALF-RUPEE AND TIBETAN COINS.
2. REDUCED FACSIMILE OF SILVER PLAQUE WORN BY WOMEN IN THE YALUNG
VALLEY.
3. CLAY VOTIVE TABLETS FROM MULI, WITH MINIATURE BUDDHAS.
4. EAR-RING WORN BY MO-SO WOMEN OF YUNG-NING.
[_To face p. 152._]
FOOTNOTES:
[161] Yule, _Marco Polo_ (Cordier's edition), vol. ii. p. 49.
[162] The word _Amban_, now so well known to Europeans, is Manchu, and
is applied to many high Chinese officials serving in the Mongolian and
Tibetan dependencies of China, besides the Resident at Lhasa.
[163] 甲哪.
[164] 甲宜齋.
[165] See Note 22 (p. 425).
[166] _Land of the Lamas_, p. 276.
[167] The Chinese is 烏拉, which is merely phonetic. The word _ula_ is
Mongolian. Rockhill observes that _ula_ (_oulâk_) was known in India in
mediæval times.--(_Land of the Lamas_, p. 52.)
[168] _Huan-t'ieh_ (換帖), literally "the exchange of cards."
[169] See p. 358 of that work.
[170] For the origin of the Prayer (or perhaps rather _Praising_)
Wheel, see Rhys Davids' _Hibbert Lectures_ (1881), p. 138 (4th ed.).
See also Tylor's _Primitive Culture_, ii. 372-373 (4th ed.)
[171] A Mongolian word which the Chinese have naturalised as _o-pu_
(阿卜).
[172] Major H. R. Davies, whose admirable survey and exploration work
are well known, visited the Muli lamasery before me, but our routes
only touched at that point. He has unfortunately published no account
of his journey from Mien-ning-hsien to Chung-tien.
[173] For M. Bonin's see the _Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_,
1898, pp. 389 _seq._ For Mr Amundsen's, see the _Geographical Journal_
for June and November 1900.
[174] How few, may be judged from the fact that I met only one caravan
in the course of a month's journey.