On to Lhasa.
The soldier, whose company proved not altogether unwelcome in a travel
like mine, happened to be one of the Legation Guards of the Minister of
Nepāl at Lhasa. His love of his mother had tempted him from his duty,
but at Shigatze on his way to Nepāl his thought turned to his love of
a woman at Lhasa and this was so much greater than his love for his
mother that he suddenly changed his mind and determined to go back
to Lhasa. Among other things I asked him how many soldiers the Nepāl
Government kept stationed at Lhasa, and he answered that it was but a
few years ago that his Government first sent a guard to the Tibetan
capital. He told me that a great calamity befell the capital over ten
years ago.
It seems that there were about three hundred merchants of the Palpo
tribe of Nepāl at Lhasa. They are the most active and alert of the
Nepālese tribes, with regard to trading, and follow Indian, not Tibetan
Buḍḍhism. They engage in trade at Lhasa in woollen cloth, cotton, silk,
coral, jewels, dry goods, rice, beans and corn.
Some thirteen years ago, a Palpo merchant at Lhasa searched a Lhasa
woman on the charge that she had stolen a piece of coral from his shop.
When the coral was not found he became so angry that, in spite of her
protesting tears, he took her by force into his house. When she was
allowed to go out again, she told the people all that had happened.
The ‘warrior-priests’ of the Sera monastery heard of the affair and
became so irritated about the ill-treatment of the woman that some of
them came to enquire into the matter, and having ascertained what they
wanted went back to Sera and told their chief, who at once called out
the warrior-priests.
These warrior-priests are under one chief, at whose summons they gather
themselves together. Many of them were not in residence at that time,
but about one thousand assembled. These were preparing to march on
Lhasa to wreck vengeance on all the Palpo merchants, when the latter
got wind of the matter, Sera being only about four miles from the
capital. So they had fled from the city before the bellicose priests
entered Lhasa, each armed with sword or a large iron hook. These men
broke into the deserted houses of the merchants, and carried off
what they found. Among the raiders there were, besides the priests,
vagabonds of the city, who dispersed with their spoil the next morning
at daybreak. Presently the merchants returned to their houses, and were
much distressed to find their merchandise gone--their only property, as
they owned no land. Their loss was estimated at something under 230,000
yen.
This affair became a diplomatic question, and it took over five years
to settle it. The Tibetan Government had to compensate the merchants
and a party of twenty-five Nepālese soldiers came to be stationed at
Lhasa. The chief diplomatist in this affair on the Nepāl side was
Jibbahaḍur, whose name has already been mentioned; he was the Clerk of
the Nepālese Government, and is the present Nepālese Minister to Tibet.
As we walked on we found ourselves at the foot of a steep hill called
Genpala, which has an incline of about two and a half miles to its top,
from which I obtained my first view of Lhasa. From the summit I could
see, to the north-east, the Brahmapuṭra running south-east. There is
a large tributary called Kichu running from the north-east that flows
into this river. It runs through a large plain, in the middle of which
is a mountain with a high building; and this I saw showing beautifully
in the golden sunshine. This was the residence of the Dalai Lama of
Lhasa, and is called Tse Potala. Beyond the castle are to be seen roofs
towering high in the air, which look like those of a town. These are
the streets of Lhasa, which look very small, when seen so far off. I
rested for a while, and then gradually went down a great slope for
about seven miles till I came to Pache, where I stopped for the night.
Having walked all day in the snow and ice I was very foot-sore and
fatigued, as well I might be, for I had made twenty-five miles on foot
that day.
The following day, the 17th of March, I descended for another two
miles and a half and found myself on the banks of the Brahmapuṭra. I
walked some six miles along the southern bank of the river before I
came to the ferry of Chaksam, where I had to cross the river. Formerly
there was an iron bridge at this place, the remaining chains of which
may still be seen a little lower down the stream. The ferry boats are
rectangular in shape like Indian boats. But it is only in the winter
that these boats are used, for in the summer large vessels cannot pass
across. The Tibetans then use instead the yak-hide canoe. They sew
together the hides of three yaks, and the seams are painted over with
a sort of lacquer, to make them waterproof. These hide canoes float on
the water, and are used as ferry-boats even in the winter when there
are not many passengers. In Tibetan the word _Kowa_ (meaning ‘hide’)
also signifies a boat. The hide boat naturally absorbs much water and
soon gets too soft and heavy for use, and the Tibetan therefore dries
his hide boat in the sun after he has used it for half a day in the
water. It is so light that a man can easily lift it, and the Tibetan
will carry it on his back to the higher part of a stream, and will
float it down for a day or two loaded with goods or men. When the boat
is unloaded, it is again carried up the stream. But our party being
too many for a hide canoe I was ferried over the river in one of the
regular wooden boats.
Walking for about three miles on the dry sandy bed of the river, I
came to a beautiful place where I saw rocks and high trees casting
their shadows on the water. The ground about Lake Yamdo, of which I
have spoken elsewhere, is so elevated that it looks as much as 13,500
feet above sea level, but here it is only 11,500 feet high. Here, in
sunny places beside the water, the buds of the willows were already
out. After seeing only bald mountains and dead leaves for a long time,
the green leaves were a delightful sight. Though my coolie carried my
baggage, and I was not much troubled on that score, the old wounds on
my feet began to smart again, and I could hardly walk. In the midst of
my trouble there came along a horseman, to whom I gave a little money
to carry me on horseback. About two miles and a half further on we came
to a town called Chu-shur, a rather bustling place, situated in the
delta formed by the rivers Kichu and Brahmapuṭra, the former running
from the north-east and the latter from the north-west.
I hardly know any town on the way to Lhasa worse and more wicked
than this. The people of the town are indifferent, even unkind, to
strangers, and are much skilled in robbing them of their luggage. They
will steal both luggage and goods in transport in such a skilful manner
that they can hardly be detected. It is widely known in Tibet that no
place is richer in thieves than Chu-shur and I had often been warned to
be on my guard against them. There being so many skilful thieves and
the place being so much frequented by travellers, there is consequently
a good circulation of money, and one would suppose that Chu-shur had
many rich men; but strange to say, I was told upon enquiry that there
were more poor men in that town than in most of the other towns and
villages of Tibet. After dining there, I started towards the north-east
(on foot, as I could procure no horse) along the stream of the Kichu
river and walked on until I felt so much pain in my feet that I could
proceed no further. I had laid myself down on the grass to rest when,
to my boundless joy, a donkey-driver came along and I was given a lift
on the back of his animal for some ten miles, till I arrived at Jang.
At Jang something happened that prevented my coolie from following me
any further, and he deserted me. My feet were aching worse than ever,
for I had travelled about twenty-five miles that day by the help of
the donkey; but what to do on the following day I was at a loss to
conceive. Happily I was told of some men who were going with tax-meat
to the Government at Lhasa, and I asked them to take me on one of
their horses. They were going to pay the tax to the Government, yet
they did not take their horses from their own village, but hired them
elsewhere. They did not travel more than eight or nine miles a day, and
I, too, hired a horse for myself, placed my luggage in their charge,
and started together with them. We halted at a little village named
Nam to take rest, and here stopped for the night. On the following day
we went about six miles along a narrow rocky mountain path, which ran
north-east along the Kichu river, till we came to Nethang.