The Warrior-Priests of Sera.
In Tibet there are two classes of priests, scholar-priests and
warrior-priests, who in Tibetan are called Lob-nyer and Thab-to
respectively. The former class of priests come to Sera, as their name
shows, with the purpose of study, at an expense of three yen or, if
they take the regular course, of eight yen a month. They graduate from
the college after a study of twenty years, during which time their
special study is the Buḍḍhist Catechism and philosophy, the principal
course of the Sera college. As they come to the college after they
have finished the study of the regular courses, most of them are from
thirty to thirty-five or thirty-six years of age when they graduate,
though a few clever priests receive the decree of doctor at the age of
twenty-eight years.
The warrior-priests have no money to pay for a course of study in the
college. They earn their way by gathering yak-dung from the fields or
by carrying from the bank of the river Kichu to the monastery wood
which has been brought in boats from Sam-ya-e or Kongbo. Then they
serve the scholar-priests as their servants. It is also among their
daily tasks to play flutes, lyres, harps, flageolets, to beat drums,
and to prepare offerings for the deities. The above tasks may not be
too humble for a low class of priests, but the warrior-priests have
another strange daily task to do by which they deserve their strange
name. Every day they repair to certain hills and practise throwing
large stones at a target, and thus test their muscles. They jump, run
up mountains, or leap down from high rocks. At intervals they sing
popular songs as loudly as they can, for they are proud of their good
voices. Then they practise fighting with clubs. When they have no fixed
task in the temple, they are seen going by threes or fives to their
respective places of practice. The reader may wonder of what use these
priests are in Tibet, and will perhaps be surprised to know that they
are of great use. When, for instance, the higher class Lamas travel
in the northern plains or in some remote district, they take these
priests as their body guards. They are very daring. Having no wives
to look after, they meet death calmly. So invincible and implacable
are these fighting priests that they are the most feared of any in
Tibet. They are very quarrelsome, too, though they rarely fall out
with one another without some serious provocation. They scarcely ever
fight for a pecuniary matter, but the beauty of young boys presents
an exciting cause, and the theft of a boy will often lead to a duel.
Once challenged, no priest can honorably avoid the duel, for to shun
it would instantly excommunicate him from among his fellow-priests
and he would be driven out of the temple. There are chiefs among the
warrior-priests, and they have rules of their own, with officers to see
them well carried out. This is an open secret, and the warrior-priests
are therefore allowed sometimes to do things quite unbecoming to
priests or anybody else. When any grave matter occurs, the chiefs are
often ordered to attend to it with the other warrior-priests.
A duel being agreed upon, both the fighters go to the appointed place,
mostly in the evening. They fight each other with swords while the
umpires judge their way of fighting. If either of the combatants
does anything cowardly or mean, the umpire leaves the fighters to
themselves, till one or the other is killed. If both fight bravely till
they are wounded, the umpire bids them stop fighting. He tells them
to make peace, and takes them to Lhasa, where they make friends over a
cup of chang (beer or wine). The use of all intoxicants being strictly
prohibited in the Sera monastery, many warrior-priests, when they go to
Lhasa, take the opportunity of drinking much of them, and under that
influence they do many rude things.
One day, some one accidentally discovered that I was a doctor, and
from that time I came to be paid undeserved respect by these priests.
When they were wounded in their feet or hands during their practice
they came to me for cure, and I was strangely successful with them. I
think that half-civilised people are more easily cured of wounds than
civilised people. A sprained arm was so easily set right, that the
warrior-priests began to consider me to be a doctor indispensable among
them. Besides, I scarcely ever took fees from them for their recovery,
and I gave them medicine gratis, except when they offered me something
in return and compelled me to accept it. This kindness won me their
hearts. They saw that it often made them worse to go to a native doctor
when they were wounded in a duel, while I treated their wounds, or
set their bones, gratis and far better than their native doctors did.
This pleased them so much that I became a great favorite among them.
Everywhere I was greeted with the protruded tongue of salutation.
Besides, I was helped and guarded by them in many respects. They are
very true to their duties and obligations. They may look a little
rough, but they are much more truthful than the nobles and other
priests of the land, who, though kind and truthful at first sight, are
deceitful and crafty in seeking their own benefit and happiness. The
warrior-priests are as a rule not deceitful and cunning at heart, and I
have found in them many other points that claim my respect and liking.
On the other hand, I was often troubled in my intercourse with the
Lamas, who hide a mean and crafty behavior under their warm garments of
wool. So far for the two classes of priests.
I had trimmed and shaved neither hair nor beard in my journey of over
ten months, so that they had grown very long. On the day after my
arrival, therefore, when I got a priest to shave my head, I asked him
to shave off my beard also. He wondered why I wanted to have it shaved
off, and told me that it would be very unwise of me to do so when it
had grown so beautiful. He seemed to think that I was joking, and I was
obliged to let it grow. A beard is much valued by the Tibetans, because
they generally have none, though the inhabitants of Kham and other
remote provinces grow beards. They are so eager to have a beard, that
after I was known to be a doctor I was often asked to give medicine to
make the beard grow. They would say that I must have used some medicine
to make my beard grow so long.
As my object was to be a student priest I bought a hat, a pair of
shoes, and a rosary, according to the regulations of the monastery. I
did not buy a priest’s robe, as I could in time use the one which had
been given to me. So I went to Je Ta-tsang, chief professor of the
department which I was to enter, for him to question me before I was
admitted as a probationary student; but I found that no examinations
were to be given. I called on the professor with a present of the best
tea to be procured in Tibet. His first question was: “Where are you
from? You look like a Mongolian; are you not one?” Being answered in
the negative, he asked me several geographical questions, for he was
well acquainted with the geography of the country. But I answered well,
as I had travelled through the provinces on my own feet. It was thus
settled that I might be admitted on probation. So I saluted the Lama
with my tongue out, and he put his right hand on my head, as usual,
and put a red cloth about two feet long round my neck as the sign of
my admission. The reader must know that one has to put such a piece of
cloth round the neck in the presence of all noble Lamas in Tibet. I had
then to appear before the priest who sees that the laws are carried
out, and to get his permission, and I found that as I had a permit from
the professor I could easily get the sanction of the priest, and thus
I was admitted into the college. I had then to prepare myself for the
regular entrance examination of the department of logic.
On the following day I found a teacher to help me in my preparation.
Finding however that one teacher was not sufficient for the many
subjects I had to study, I engaged a second, and I was thus soon busy
preparing myself. There was a Lama living in the dormitory opposite
to mine, a stout priest who seemed to be very learned. One day I was
called to his room to see him, and among other questions I was asked
if I had not come with a caravan of Ruto from Jangthang to the Sakya
temple. I was told that among the disciples of the Lama there was one
Tobten, a nice gentle Tibetan, and this person happened to be the one
who had treated me very kindly during my journey with the caravan. It
was this man who had asked me if I would take meat, and whom I had told
that I did not take it. I had hitherto been supposed to have come from
Jangthang, but now I was entirely unmasked.
“Then you are not from Jangthang,” said the Lama, and then he told
me that he had heard I was a Chinaman and good at writing Chinese
characters. On my confessing that I was not a Tibetan he was grieved,
because he feared that my deceit might bring trouble upon the
dormitory, for a Chinaman must go to Pate Khamtsan. He then asked
me why I had violated the regulations of the place, and I replied
that I had been robbed, as he might have heard from his disciple, at
Jangthang, and that I had not money enough to enter into the Pate
Khamtsan as a Chinaman. Besides, I said, I should have to pay something
for service every year, if I went to the Chinese house. Having told
him all these secrets, I then asked him to help me to stay with him,
as I could not go to the other house. The Lama said that his disciple
had told him of the robbery, and that he was very sorry for me, adding
that he would leave the matter till objection should be made. So I
was left there without further trouble, and I passed for a man from
Jangthang. In this way I kept on studying day and night, till I had a
great swelling in my shoulders. I was obliged to draw some blood from
the shoulders by a device of my own, and then I went to a druggist in
the city to buy some medicine, which soon cured the swelling.