Arrival in Lhasa.
At Nethang there is a temple of the Mothers of Salvation, who are most
devoutly worshipped in Tibet, and it is said that it was founded by an
Indian hermit, Shrī Aṭīsha by name, who organised a new sect in Tibet.
I went there to worship the twenty-one Mothers of Salvation (Dolma
Nishu tsa chik in Tibetan) whose images I found very well made. On the
following day, the 20th, I again went on towards the north-east, along
the river, over a plain of about five miles, till I came to a large
bridge which I crossed, went on north-east for another four miles, and
came to a village called Sing Zonkha, where I stopped for the night. I
was to arrive at Lhasa, the capital of the country, on the following
day, March 21st.
I hired a horse at the village, and asked my companions to take care
of my baggage while I rode on amid the beautiful scenes of the place.
After about two miles, I saw on the left a splendid monastery, which at
first sight looked more like a large village, though it was in reality
the Rebung monastery, the largest of the kind in the vicinity of Lhasa.
It is indeed the largest monastery in the ecclesiastical district under
the Dalai Lama, and has an army of priests who number some 7,700 as
a general rule, though sometimes their number rises as high as nine
thousand. During the summer, when the priests go out into the country
on pilgrimage, there remain some six thousand only. This is one centre
of Tibetan learning, and has a college. I saw in all three colleges in
Central Tibet, the other two being the Sera college in Lhasa and that
at Ganden.
The former has 5,500 students, and the latter 3,300. But these numbers
are only nominal, and the colleges can, like the Rebung monastery,
take in either more or fewer students than their fixed number. At the
side of the road below this monastery is a place where yaks, sheep, and
goats are killed for the table of the Dalai Lama, and the Tibetans have
so superstitious a regard for the sheep (seven in number) the meat of
which is offered to the Dalai Lama daily, that they ask for such things
as the wool and other parts of the animal as keepsakes. Besides sheep,
the Dalai Lama eats other kinds of meat, which is also sent from the
same place.
It is not very sensible of the Pontiff to get his meat from such a
distant place, while he lives in the city of Lhasa; but he takes
another view. Lhasa is too near to his palace for the slaughter of
animals, and he does not want to have it thought that the animals are
killed for him. He desires to get his meat without being responsible
for giving the order to kill the animals. This looks very good,
but since it is settled that the meat served to him shall be taken
from this place, special care is taken in selecting the animals for
slaughter, and at bottom, therefore, it makes no difference whether his
meat is bought at Lhasa or at that particular place.
I went on for another five miles, and came to the foot of the hill on
which stood the palace of the Grand Lama, the place which I had seen
from Genpala.
[Illustration: OUTLINE OF THE RESIDENCE OF THE DALAI LAMA.]
The palace is so splendid that even its picture looks beautiful. I
am not going to describe it in detail, but there is a quaint little
story about it which shows the impression it creates at first sight.
A certain countryman once drove to Lhasa some asses heavily loaded
with butter. He saw the magnificent palace, and was so struck with its
beauty that he stood gazing at it, thinking that it must be a palace
of the Gods. When he recovered himself, he was mortified to find that
his asses had strayed away. When he had gathered them, he found that
there were nine instead of ten, and looked about anxiously to find the
lost one. When asked what he was looking for, he answered that some one
must have stolen his ass while he was looking at the palace, for he
had come thither with ten asses. It was some time before he found that
he had not counted the ass on which he was riding. This shows how the
magnificence of the palace had affected him. I went half a mile along a
wide road, south-east of the palace hill, and came to a bridge called
Yuthok Samba, a hundred and twenty feet by fifteen, over which is built
a roof in the Chinese style. I crossed the bridge and went on another
hundred and twenty yards before I found myself at the western gate of
Lhasa, constructed somewhat after the Chinese fashion. I passed through
the gate and rode on some two hundred and fifty yards, when I came to
a sort of large open court. Here I had to alight, for I was before the
large temple of Buḍḍha. I enquired how the image of Buḍḍha came to be
placed in the temple. It was before king Srong-tsan Gambo (who later
introduced Buḍḍhism into the country) was won to the religion, and
when he was engaged to Princess Un-ching, a daughter of the Chinese
Emperor Ta-sung of the Thang dynasty. She demanded a promise from his
father that Buḍḍhism should be widely preached in Tibet, and required
at the same time that she might be permitted to take with her an image
of Buḍḍha, which had just been brought from India. The request being
granted, the Princess took it to the city of Lhasa, where it has
remained ever since.
The image was thus brought into the country by the Princess at the
same time as Buḍḍhism itself. It was soon found necessary to preach a
new form of Buḍḍhism and to invent new characters in which to write
its teachings. So learned men, sixteen in number, were sent to India
to study Buḍḍhism, and to invent new characters. Consequently, new
Tibetan letters were formed, and Buḍḍhist doctrines were translated
into Tibetan. Budḍḍhism was thus taught for over thirteen centuries,
to the great advantage both of Tibet and of Buḍḍhism. This image of
Buḍḍha was not originally carved in China, but was made by a Buḍḍhist
sculptor, Vishvakarma by name, in India, whence it was introduced into
Tibet through China. When I lifted up my thanks before this image of
Buḍḍha for my safe arrival in Tibet, I could not help shedding tears
over the goodness of Buḍḍha, which enabled me to see His image at this
temple as well as at Buḍḍhagayā in India. I need not say, for the whole
story shows it, how great is my faith in Buḍḍha. I do not mean that I
do not respect other Buḍḍhist deities; still Buḍḍha claims the greatest
worship from me, and I have entirely given myself up to Him and His
religion.
There are many cheap inns and hotels in Lhasa, but as I had been
informed that they were not respectable, I desired to stay with a
friend, a son of the premier of Tibet. While at Darjeeling I had become
acquainted with this young noble, and he had offered me a lodging
during my stay in Lhasa. I liked him, and did many things for him, and
now, though I did not mean to demand a return for what I had done for
him, I had no alternative but to go to him. So I called at his house.
It was known as Bandesha--a magnificent mansion on a plot of about
three hundred and sixty feet square. I entered the house and asked if
he was in, but heard that my friend had become a lunatic. They told me
that he had gone out of his mind two years before, and that he went
mad at regular periods. I learned that he was staying at his brother’s
villa at Namsailing, and was obliged to go there for him, but there
also I could not find him, and was told the same thing. I waited there
for over two hours, as I was told he might come, and then I reflected
that it would be of no use for me to see a madman, on whom I could not
depend, so I made up my mind to direct my steps to the Sera monastery,
for I thought it would be better for me to be temporarily admitted
in the college, and then to pass the regular entrance examinations.
So I at once hired a coolie to carry my baggage, and started for the
monastery.
Like the Rebung monastery, it was built on the slope of a hill, and
when seen from a distance looked like a village. Guided by the coolie,
I arrived at the monastery at four o’clock and at once called at the
dormitory of Pituk Khamtsan, giving myself out as a Tibetan, as I came
from Jangthang. Hitherto I had passed for a Chinaman, but as such I
should have had to go to Pate Khamtsan, where I feared I might be
detected. I had not trimmed my hair nor shaved my face, nor bathed
for a long time, and I cannot have been much cleaner than a Tibetan,
so I made up my mind to pass for one and to live among them. The
examinations for a Tibetan might be too difficult for me; still I could
command the Tibetan language almost as well as a native, and I was
often treated as one. I thought, therefore, that I could pass without
detection, and so for my own safety I entered the monastery in this
guise. The dormitory is occupied by several priests, who in turn, by
the year, take the charge of the house. The then head of the dormitory
was a very kind and simple old man, called La-toe-pa, and when I told
him about my desire to obtain temporary admission, he gave me every
particular as to what to do.
Before I go any further in my narrative, I must say something
briefly about the Sera college. It is divided into three
departments--Je-Ta-tsang, Maye Ta-tsang, and Ngakpa Ta-tsang. The first
department contains 3,800 priests, the second 2,500 and the third five
hundred. The former two departments have eighteen dormitories, named
Khamtsan. They differ in size, for the small ones have about fifty
priests in them, while there are over a thousand priests in the largest
ones. There were two hundred priests in the house at which I stayed.
Each Khamtsan has its own property, and all the Khamtsans as a whole
are called Sera. These are the largest divisions of the monastery, but
I will not enter into the sub-divisions.