The Third Metropolis of Tibet.
Owing to the cold season I could not observe the condition of the wheat
actually growing in the fields, but I learned at the above village that
in that locality the wheat crop was considered ordinary when it was at
the rate of two bushels from two pecks of seeds, and unusually abundant
when the rate reached three bushels. In the neighborhood of Lhasa four
or five bushels are obtained from two pecks of seeds, if the weather
proves favorable, but three bushels are passed as fair.
This testifies to the primitiveness of the methods of farming obtaining
in Tibet. One cannot but be surprised at the ill-kept condition of
the fields which, with their ‘rich’ deposits of pebbles, cannot be
termed cultivated land in the proper sense of the word. I do not mean
to speak ill of the Tibetans, but this curious neglect of cleaning
the land is a fact; indeed, it is a universal feature of the country.
I once suggested to a native farmer the advisability of removing the
pebbles, but the reply was simply that such practices were not endorsed
by tradition. Tradition is to the Tibetans a heavenly dictate, and
controls all social arrangements. Those residing in more civilised
parts of the country, however, entertain somewhat more progressive
ideas, and have learned to utilise the products of modern ingenuity
from the West. The case is quite different with the mass of the people,
who are still laboring under a thousand and one forms of conservatism.
A very curious story, in a way substantiating the foregoing statement,
was told me by a village paṇdiṭ whom I could hardly credit, because
of the apparent absurdity of his narrative. The story, which is given
below, was subsequently confirmed, quite to my surprise, by more than
one citizen of Lhasa.
In Tibet, as in other countries, taxes are assessed on cultivated
fields, but, as the Tibetans are practically strangers to mathematics,
as stated in a preceding chapter, a very curious and primitive method
is adopted with regard to the land-measuring which forms the basis of
the assessment.
The method consists in setting two yaks, drawing a plough, to work upon
a given area, the assessment being made according to the time taken in
the tillage. In other words, the different plots of cultivated lands
are classified as lands of half a day’s tillage, or a day’s tillage,
and so on, as the case may be, and assessed accordingly.
After being entertained by the aforesaid scholar with many other
interesting stories concerning the manners and customs of Tibet,
as well as the conduct of native priests, we left the village and,
proceeding for twelve miles along the edge of the lake mentioned above,
reached a spot where we passed the night. On November 21st we struggled
on our way through a gorge extending over a distance of five miles,
till we found ourselves again on the edge of a big lake, called Nam
Tso Goga. It measured about twelve miles in circumference, and its
water was very pure. Proceeding along the northern bank of the lake, we
passed into a valley commonly called the Senge Rung, or Lions’ Vale.
This name must have been derived from the surrounding rocks, which
somewhat resemble the figure of the king of beasts. After a journey
of seven and a half miles through the vale, we arrived at a village
bearing the same name, and then at another, where we took lodgings.
We covered more than twenty-five miles that day, this forced journey
being due to the necessity of altering our travelling arrangements.
The fact was that, while our previous journey was through Jangthang,
so that it was necessary for us to stop early and graze our horses
sufficiently, we had now entered into a more peopled and cultivated
part of the country, where pastures were few, so that we could not stop
until we reached a village where we could secure sufficient fodder for
our animals. The fodder, which in Tibet usually consists of wheat and
barley stalks and the stems of bean plants, is generally purchased from
inn-keepers. The latter, however, extort such high prices, that fodder
enough to feed a horse during a night often costs the traveller full
thirty sen, though in some cases half that sum will be sufficient. In
addition, beans and a solution of butter are sometimes given to horses,
so that the caravan trade in the interior of Tibet is at once trying
and expensive.
On November 22nd we proceeded about twelve miles over a steep slope
and across plains, and arrived again on the northern bank of the
Brāhmapuṭra. At this place the river was not quite as it was when we
crossed it on our way. It now appeared quite fathomless, with its
waters azure-blue, though it was only about two hundred yards wide.
There was no hope of negotiating the stream on horseback, and we were
told that the river-bed would become much wider in summer. There was,
however, a ferry-boat service, a rectangular flat-bottomed boat,
resembling those we see used for the purpose in India. The boat had in
the middle of her stern a figure representing the head of a serpent,
and had capacity enough to accommodate thirty or forty persons and
twenty horses. When we landed on the opposite bank of the river, we
found ourselves in the outskirts of Lharche, the city which is the
third in importance in Tibet. Once there, we could fairly claim that we
had gone far into the interior of the forbidden country, for it is only
five days’ journey thence to Shigatze, the second Tibetan city.
Looking southward, we could see a caravanserai erected by the Chinese.
It is spacious but unfurnished, no one being in charge of it. It
serves the double purpose of accommodating the Chinese itinerant
traders and the native soldiers on march. We betook ourselves to the
building for the night, which proved a jolly as well as a noisy one.
It was thought very fortunate for us to have escaped from the dangers
of robbers and wild beasts which infested the north-western regions,
and my companions decided to celebrate the successful journey to their
hearts’ content.
Throughout the night they indulged themselves in a carouse, which was
enlivened by the attendance of several girls. During the next day,
November 23rd, I was still staying with the rest of our party at the
caravanserai, but as I was to part company with them on the 24th I read
the gospel of _Hokekyo_, as a mark of appreciation of the kindness
accorded to me by them throughout my journey with them. When the date
of my departure came, the head Lama gave me ten tankas as a reward
for my lectures on Tibetan grammar, while the rest of the party also
collected among themselves a certain sum of money which they presented
to me. A few of the party were to accompany me, for the Lama, with the
junior Lama and a servant, decided to go with me, so that I was not
alone on my road. We then set out, taking the road leading to the grand
Sakya monastery. As for the men of the caravan, they were to proceed to
Shigatze through Puntso-ling by the highway. Besides kindly carrying
my personal effects together with their own, the senior Lama and party
offered me the use of one of their horses, so that my trip with them
was a very comfortable one.
We proceeded in a southerly direction, and for a distance of five miles
our way passed through wheat-fields, the soil of which appeared to be
very rich. Of all the districts in Tibet, Lharche can supply barley,
wheat, beans, and butter at the lowest possible prices, which testified
to the position held by it with regard to agricultural products. We
then ascended a rapid slope for another five miles, again traversed
cultivated fields for about eleven miles, going in a south-easterly
direction, and reached a hamlet called Rendah. The next day, after we
had proceeded along a river for some eighteen miles, we saw before us
the imposing monastery of Sakya, which was surrounded by high stone
walls of about two hundred and twenty yards square, twenty feet high
and six feet thick. All the structures were of stone, painted white,
and the main edifice alone measured sixty feet in height, two hundred
feet from east to west, and two hundred and forty feet from south to
north. Over the walls, which were bow-shaped, rose a dark-colored
castle, crowned with _Saisho-doban_ (the victorious Standard of
Buḍḍhism), and _rodai_ (the disc for the dew of nectar) of dazzling
gold. The spectacle was sublime and impressive, at least so far as
outward appearances were concerned.