Notice of Moorcroft the English Traveller--Routes between Lha-Ssa and
Europe--Discussion with the Chinese Ambassador--Contest between the
Regent and Ki-Chan about us--Our expulsion from Lha-Ssa determined
on--Protest against this arbitrary measure--Report of Ki-Chan to the
Emperor of China--System of Chronology in use in Thibet--New Thibetian
year--Festivals and rejoicings--Buddhist Monasteries of the Province of
Oui--Khaldan--Preboung--Sera--Farewell of the Regent--Separation from
Samdadchiemba--Ly, the Pacificator of Kingdoms--Triple Address of the
Chinese Ambassador--Picturesque adieu between the Ly-Kouo-Ngan and his
Wife--Departure from Lha-Ssa for Canton--Crossing a river in a leathern
boat.
We have already referred to the travels of Moorcroft in Thibet, in
noticing the excessive fear with which the designers and makers of
geographical charts inspire the Thibetian government. One day, the
governor of the Cashmerians brought to us one of his fellow countrymen,
named Nisan, who had been for a long time the servant of Moorcroft at
Lha-Ssa. He talked to us at some length about his old master, and the
details he gave us confirmed all that had already been related to us.
The adventures of this English traveller appearing to us too singular to
be passed over wholly in silence, we have thought proper to give a short
review of them.
According to the statements collected in the capital of Thibet itself,
Moorcroft arrived from Ladak at Lha-Ssa in the year 1826; he wore the
Mussulman dress, and spoke the Farsie language, expressing himself in
that idiom with so much facility, that the Cashmerians of Lha-Ssa took
him for one of their countrymen. He hired a house in the town, where he
lived for twelve years with his servant Nisan, whom he had brought from
Ladak, and who himself thought that his master was a Cashmerian.
Moorcroft had purchased a few herds of goats and oxen, which he had
confided to the care of some Thibetian shepherds, who dwelt in the gorges
of the mountains, about Lha-Ssa. Under the pretext of inspecting his
herds, the feigned Mussulman went freely about the country, making
drawings and preparing his geographical charts. It is said that never
having learnt the Thibetian language, he abstained from holding direct
communication with the people of the country. At last, having dwelt for
twelve years at Lha-Ssa, Moorcroft took his way back to Ladak, but whilst
he was in the province of Ngari, he was attacked by a troop of brigands
who assassinated him. The perpetrators of this murder were pursued and
arrested by the Thibetian government, who recovered a portion of the
property of the English traveller, among which was a collection of
geographical designs and charts. It was only then, and upon sight of
these objects, that the authorities of Lha-Ssa found out that Moorcroft
was an Englishman.
Before separating from his servant, Moorcroft had given him a note,
telling him to show it to the inhabitants of Calcutta, if he ever went to
that city, and that it would suffice to make his fortune. It was
doubtless a letter of recommendation. The seizure of the effects of
Moorcroft created such a disturbance in Thibet, that Nisan, afraid of
being compromised, destroyed his letter of recommendation. He told us
himself that this note was written in characters exactly similar to ours.
The facts we have here related, we derive from the Regent, from the
Cashmerian governor, from Nisan, and from several other inhabitants of
Lha-Ssa. Before reaching this town, we had never heard of Moorcroft; it
was there we first learned the name of this English traveller. From what
we have stated, it may be considered established that Moorcroft really
went to Lha-Ssa in 1826, that he resided there for twelve years, and that
he was afterwards assassinated on the road to Ladak from Lha-Ssa.
Let us turn now, however, to other information, extremely discrepant from
that which was given us in the capital of Thibet. According to the
"Universal Geography" of Charles Ritter, {203a} Moorcroft made first a
journey in 1812, which lasted two months; he was afterwards directed by
the Company to procure horses from Turkestan, wherewith to improve the
breed of horses in India. For this purpose he undertook a second journey
in November, 1819; he got as far as Ladak, where he remained two years.
In the month of October, 1822, he left that town for Cashmere, and on the
25th of August, 1825, died at Andkou, on the way from Herat to Balk. The
death of Moorcroft, at the date and place stated by Charles Ritter, was
announced by his fellow-traveller, M. Tribeck, in a letter dated Balk,
6th September, 1825, and addressed to Captain Wade, the resident at
Loudiana. {203b}
We confess that we cannot possibly reconcile such opposite statements.
If Moorcroft was really not at Lha-Ssa, how is it that he was so well
known there, and that the people there speak of his residence among them
in terms so precise? What interest could the Thibetians have in forging
such a tale? On the other hand, if Moorcroft was at Lha-Ssa, how can we
explain that letter of M. Tribeck, which announces that his
fellow-traveller died in 1825, exactly at the time, when, according to
the other hypothesis, he was on his way to the capital of Thibet?
Without pretending to reconcile these contradictions, we will cite a fact
which concerns ourselves, and which will, perhaps, seem to bear some
relation to the affair of Moorcroft. Some time after our arrival at
Macao, we read the following article in the "Bengal Catholic Herald,"
{203c} a journal printed at Calcutta. "Canton the 12th September. The
French missionaries of our city have lately received the news of the
deplorable death of two fathers of their mission in Mongol-Tartary."
After a cursory sketch of the Mongol-Chinese territory, the writer of the
article proceeds thus:--"A French Lazarist called Huc, arrived, about
three years ago, amongst some Chinese families, who were established in
the valley of Black Waters, about two hundred leagues journey from the
Great Wall. Another Lazarist, whose name is unknown to me, {203d} joined
him in the plan of forming a mission among the Mongol Buddhists. They
studied the Mongol language with the Lamas of the neighbouring
Lamaseries. It seems that they were taken for foreign Lamas, and were
treated in a friendly manner, particularly by the Buddhists, who are very
ignorant, and who mistook the Latin of their breviaries for Sanscrit,
which they do not understand, but for which they have a secret
veneration, because the rites of their religious books, in Mongol,
translated from the Sanscrit, are printed in red ink.
"When the missionaries thought themselves sufficiently learned in the
language, they advanced into the interior, with the intention of
commencing their work of conversion. From that time only uncertain
rumours were heard about them, but in May last, from the interior of
Mongol-Tartary, the news came that they had been tied to horses' tails,
and so dragged to death. The real causes of this event are not as yet
known."
Whilst they were thus announcing our death so positively, we were
approaching the termination of our long journey, and were close upon
Canton, happily enjoying a health fully capable of refuting the news thus
propagated concerning us. But if, by chance, we had perished among the
mountains of Thibet, if we had been murdered there, the world would have
remained convinced that we had been tied to horses' tails and had died in
Mongolia. It would probably have never been believed that we had reached
the capital of Thibet; and if, at some later time, some European
traveller had visited Lha-Ssa, and had been informed of our abode in that
town, it would have been, perhaps, just as difficult to reconcile these
statements, as those respecting Moorcroft. Although the death of the
English traveller is a matter which we cannot clear up, we did not
conceive that we could omit to say what we knew of it, without pretending
to invalidate, by the accounts collected at Lha-Ssa, the documents set
forth in the scientific London journals.
We were scarcely a month at Lha-Ssa before the numerous inhabitants of
this town grew accustomed to speak with respect and admiration of the
holy doctrine of Jehovah, and of the great kingdom of France. The peace
and tranquillity we enjoyed, the distinguished protection which the
Thibetian government extended to us, the sympathy with which the people
seemed to surround us, all inspired us with the hope, that, by the aid of
God, we might lay in the very capital of Buddhism the foundation of a
mission, the influence of which would soon extend itself among the nomad
tribes of Mongolia. The moment seemed to have come when the Tartar
pilgrims might at length learn, at Lha-Ssa, the only doctrine which can
save men's souls, and civilize nations.
As soon as we considered our position at Lha-Ssa confirmed, we turned our
thoughts to the means of renewing our communications with Europe in the
speediest manner. The path of the desert was impracticable. We had,
certainly, managed to cross once, and as it were by a miracle, these
steppes infested by brigands and wild beasts; but it was out of the
question to think of organising a service of couriers along that
frightful route. Supposing, besides, the fullest security that could be
desired, the mere length of the journey was a thing to make one shudder.
The road by India seemed alone practicable. From Lha-Ssa to the first
English station is not quite a month's journey. By establishing one
correspondent on the other side of the Himalaya mountains, and one at
Calcutta, our communication with France would become, if not prompt and
easy, at all events feasible. As this plan could only be put into
execution with the consent of the Thibetian government, we communicated
it to the Regent, who immediately entered into our views, and it was
agreed that in the summer M. Gabet should undertake the journey to
Calcutta, with a Thibetian escort, who were to accompany him as far as
Boutan.
Such were the plans we were forming for the establishment of a mission at
Lha-Ssa; but at this very moment the enemy to all good was hard at work
to ruin our projects, and to remove us from a country which he seems to
have chosen for the seat of his empire. Having heard here and there
words of evil auspice, we comprehended that the Chinese ambassador was
secretly plotting our expulsion from Thibet. The vague rumour of this
persecution had, in fact, nothing about it to surprise us. From the
outset, we had foreseen that if difficulties assailed us, they would
emanate from the Chinese Mandarins. Ki-Chan, in fact, could not bear to
see the Thibetian government receive with so much favour a religion and
strangers, whom the absurd prejudices of China have so long driven from
her frontiers. Christianity and the French name excited too forcibly the
sympathy of the people of Lha-Ssa, not to arouse Chinese jealousy. An
agent of the court of Peking could not, without anger, reflect on the
popularity which strangers enjoyed in Thibet, and on the influence which
they might one day exercise in a country which China has every interest
in keeping under her dominion. It was determined, therefore, that the
preachers of the religion of the Lord of Heaven should be driven from
Lha-Ssa.
One day, the ambassador, Ki-Chan, sent for us, and after sundry attempts
at cajolery, ended by saying that Thibet was too cold, too poor a country
for us, and that we had better think of returning to our kingdom of
France. Ki-Chan addressed these words to us, with a sort of indifferent,
careless manner, as though he supposed there could he no sort of
objection to them. We asked him if, in speaking thus, he proposed to us
advice or command. "Both the one and the other," he replied, coldly.
"Since it is so, we have first to thank you for the interest which you
seem to have in our welfare, in telling us that this country is cold and
miserable. But you must know, that men such as we, do not regard the
goods and conveniences of this world; were it not so, we should have
remained in our own kingdom of France. For know, there is not anywhere a
country comparable with our own. As for the imperative portion of your
words, this is our answer: 'Admitted into Thibet by the local authority,
we recognise no right in you, or in any other person, to disturb our
abode here.'" "How! you who are strangers, presume still to remain
here?'" "Yes, we are strangers, but we know that the laws of Thibet are
not like those of China. The Peboun, the Katchi, the Mongols, are
strangers like us, and yet they are permitted to live here in peace; no
one disturbs them. What, then, is the meaning of this arbitrary
proceeding of yours, in ordering Frenchmen from a country open to all
people? If foreigners are to quit Lha-Ssa, why do you stay here? Does
not your title of Kin-Tchai (ambassador) distinctly announce that you
yourself are but a foreigner here?" At these words, Ki-Chan bounded on
his velvet cushion. "I a foreigner!" cried he, "a foreigner! I, who
bear the authority of the Grand Emperor, who, only a few months' since,
condemned and exiled the Nomekhan." "We are acquainted with that affair.
There is this difference between the Nomekhan and us, that the Nomekhan
came from Kan-Sou, a province of the empire, and we come from France,
where your Grand Emperor is nobody; and that the Nomekhan assassinated
three Tale-Lamas, while we have done no injury to any man. Have we any
other aim than to make known to men the true God, and to teach them the
way to save their souls?" "Ay, as I have already said to you, I believe
you to be honest people; but then the religion you preach has been
declared wicked, and prohibited by our Grand Emperor." "To these words,
we can only reply thus: The religion of the Lord of Heaven does not need
the sanction of your Emperor to make it a holy religion, any more than
we, of its mission, need it to come and preach in Thibet." The Chinese
ambassador did not think it expedient to continue this discussion; he
drily dismissed us, declaring that we might rest assured he would make us
quit Thibet. We hastened to the Regent, in order to acquaint him with
the melancholy interview we had had with Ki-Chan. The chief Kalon had
been made aware of the projects of persecution which the Chinese
Mandarins were hatching against us. He endeavoured to reassure us, and
told us, that protecting in the country thousands of strangers, he was
powerful enough to give us the protection which the Thibetian government
extended to all. "Besides," added he, "even though our laws did prohibit
strangers from entering our country, those laws could not affect you.
Religious persons, men of prayer, belonging to all countries, are
strangers nowhere; such is the doctrine taught by our holy books. It is
written: 'The yellow goat has no country, the Lama no family.' Lha-Ssa
being the peculiar assembling-place and abode of men of prayer, that
title of itself should always secure for you liberty and protection."
This opinion of the Buddhists, which constitutes a religious man a
cosmopolite, is not merely a mystic idea written in books, but we have
found it recognised in the manners and customs of the Lamaseries; when a
man has had his head shaved, and assumes the religious habit, he
renounces his former name to take a new one. If you ask a Lama of what
country he is, he replies, "I have no country, but I pass my time in such
a Lamasery." This manner of thinking and acting is even admitted in
China, amongst the bonzes and other classes of religionists, who are
called by the generic name of Tchou-Kia-Jin, (a man who has left his
family.)
There was, respecting us, a controversy of several days' duration,
between the Thibetian government and the Chinese ambassador. Ki-Chan, in
order to insure better success to his aims, assumed the character of
defender of the Tale-Lama. This was his argument: Sent to Lha-Ssa by his
Emperor, to protect the Living Buddha, it was his duty to remove from him
whatever was calculated to injure him. Certain preachers of the religion
of the Lord of Heaven, animated, no doubt, by excellent intentions, were
propagating a doctrine which, in the end, tended to destroy the authority
and power of the Tale-Lama. Their avowed purpose was to substitute their
religious belief for Buddhism, and to convert all the inhabitants of
Thibet of every age, condition, and sex. What would become of the
Tale-Lama when he had no worshippers? The introduction into the country
of the religion of the Lord of Heaven, does it not lead directly to the
destruction of the sanctuary of the Buddha-La, and consequently, to the
downfall of the Lamanesque hierarchy and of the Thibetian government?
"I," said he, "who am here to protect the Tale-Lama, can I permit, at
Lha-Ssa, men who propagate such formidable doctrines? When those
doctrines have taken root, and it is no longer possible to extirpate
them, who will be responsible for such a misfortune? What shall I reply
to the Grand Emperor, when he shall reproach me with my negligence and
cowardice? You Thibetians," said he to the Regent; "you do not
comprehend the gravity of this matter. Because these men are virtuous
and irreproachable, you think they are harmless--it is a mistake. If
they remain long at Lha-Ssa, they will spell-bind you. Among you, there
is not a man capable of disputing with them upon religion. You will not
be able to keep from adopting their belief, and then the Tale-Lama is
undone."
The Regent did not enter at all into these apprehensions, with which the
Chinese ambassador endeavoured to inspire him. He maintained that our
presence at Lha-Ssa could not in any way be prejudicial to the Thibetian
government. "If the doctrine which these men held," said he, "is a false
doctrine, the Thibetians will not embrace it; if, on the contrary, it is
true, what have we to fear? How can the truth be prejudicial to men?
These two Lamas of the kingdom of France," he added, "have not done any
harm; they are animated with the best intentions towards us. Can we,
without good ground, deprive them of the liberty and protection which we
extend here to all strangers, and particularly to men of prayer? Can we
make ourselves guilty of an actual and certain injustice, through an
imaginary fear of some possible evil to come?"
Ki-Chan reproached the Regent with neglecting the interests of the
Tale-Lama, and the Regent on his part accused Ki-Chan of taking advantage
of the minority of the sovereign, to tyrannize over the Thibetian
government. For our parts, in this unfortunate contest, we refused to
acknowledge the authority of the Chinese Mandarin, and declared that we
would not quit the country without a formal order from the Regent, who
assured us that they should never extort from him any such thing.
The quarrel became more and more exacerbated every day. Ki-Chan resolved
to take on himself to expel us from the country. Matters had come to
such a crisis, that prudence obliged us to yield to circumstances, and to
oppose no further resistance, for fear of compromising the Regent, and of
becoming, perhaps, the cause of lamentable dissensions between China and
Thibet. By further opposing this unjust persecution, we might irritate
too vehemently the Chinese, and furnish pretexts for their project of
usurping the Thibetian government. If, on our account, a rupture
unhappily broke out between Lha-Ssa and Peking, we should inevitably be
held responsible for it; we should become odious in the eyes of the
Thibetians, and the introduction of Christianity into these countries
would be encountered hereafter with greater difficulties than ever. We
therefore considered that it would be better to submit, and to accept
with resignation the crown of persecution. Our conduct should prove to
the Thibetians, that at least we had come among them with peaceful
intentions, and that we did not intend to establish ourselves there by
violence.
Another consideration helped to confirm our resolution. It occurred to
us that this very tyranny which the Chinese exercised against us, might
perhaps be the ultimate occasion of our missionaries establishing
themselves in Thibet with security. In our simplicity, we imagined that
the French government would not see with indifference this monstrous
assumption of China, in daring to persecute Christianity and the French
name even among foreign nations, and at a distance of more than a
thousand leagues from Peking. We were persuaded that the representative
of France at Canton could not omit to make emphatic remonstrances to the
Chinese authorities, and that he would obtain just reparation for the
violence with which we had been treated. In thinking thus, we poor and
obscure missionaries were far from wishing to give ourselves, in our own
eyes, the least personal importance; but we do not disguise it, we were
proud in the belief that our position as Frenchmen would be a sufficient
title for our obtaining the protection of the government of our country.
After having maturely considered these points, we proceeded to the
Regent. On learning that we had determined to leave Lha-Ssa, he seemed
sad and embarrassed. He told us he greatly wished he had it in his power
to secure for us a free and tranquil abode in Thibet; but that alone, and
without the support of his sovereign, he had found himself too weak to
resist the tyranny of the Chinese, who for several years past, taking
advantage of the infancy of the Tale-Lama, had assumed unprecedented
claims in the country. We thanked the Regent for his goodwill, and left
him to wait upon the Chinese ambassador.
We told Ki-Chan that, at a distance from all protection, we had resolved
to leave Lha-Ssa, since he was determined to compel us to do so; but that
we protested against this violation of our rights. "Well, well,"
answered Ki-Chan, "you cannot do better; you must depart; it will be
better for you, better for the Thibetians, better for me, better for
everybody." He then told us that he had ordered all preparations to be
made for our departure; that the Mandarin and escort who were to
accompany us, had been selected. It had even been arranged that we
should depart in eight days, and that they should take us along the route
which leads to the frontiers of China. This last arrangement, excited at
once our indignation and surprise; it was inconceivable how they could
have the cruelty to condemn us to a journey of eight months, whilst by
proceeding towards India twenty-five days' march would suffice to carry
us to the first European station, whence we could not fail to find means,
both secure and easy, for reaching Calcutta. We forthwith and vehemently
protested against the project, but our protest was disregarded, as was
the request for some few additional days rest, after the long journey we
had just made, and to give time for the closing of the great wounds
caused by the cold of the desert. All we could say to mollify the
cruelty of the Chinese ambassador was unavailing.
We then laid aside our suppliant tone, and declared to the delegate of
the court of Peking, that we yielded to violence, but that we would
denounce to our government: first, that the Chinese ambassador, installed
at Lha-Ssa, had arbitrarily and violently driven us thence, under the
vain pretext that we were strangers and preachers of the Christian
religion, which he called wicked and repudiated by his Emperor. In the
second place, that in opposition to all right and all justice, he had
prevented us from pursuing an easy and direct route, of only twenty-five
days' journey, to drag us tyrannically into the interior of China, and
make us undergo the hardships of an eight months' journey. Finally, that
we would denounce to our government the barbarity with which they forced
us to set out, without allowing us a little rest, a barbarity which, in
our then state, we had a right to consider as an attempt upon our life.
Ki-Chan replied that he had nothing to do with what the French government
might think or do, that in his conduct he had only to regard the will of
his Emperor. "If my master," he said, "knew that I had permitted two
Europeans freely to preach the religion of the Lord of heaven in Thibet,
I should be lost. It would not be possible for me to escape death."
The next day, Ki-Chan sent for us in order to communicate to us a report
he had drawn up on the subject of our affairs; and which he proposed to
lay before the Emperor. "I did not wish," said he, "to let it go without
reading it to you previously, for fear there should have escaped me in it
any expressions inexact in themselves or distasteful to you." Having
attained his chief object, Ki-Chan had resumed his amiable and
conciliatory manner towards us. His report was unmeaning enough; what it
said about us was neither good nor bad; it simply set forth a dry
nomenclature of the countries we had passed through, since our departure
from Macao. "Is this report as you like it?" said Ki-Chan; "do you see
anything in it to alter?" M. Huc answered, that he had an observation to
make of great importance. "Speak, I listen." "What I have to say to
you, does not interest us in the least; but it affects you very nearly."
"Let us hear what it is." "My communication must be private: let your
people withdraw." "These men are my servants; they all belong to my
household; fear nothing." "Oh, it is not we who have anything to fear;
all the danger is to you." "The danger to me! No matter, the officers
of my suite may hear all." "If you will, you can repeat to them what I
have to say; but I cannot speak in their presence." "Mandarins cannot
hold secret conversations with strangers; it is forbidden by the laws."
"In that case, I have nothing to tell you; send the report just as it is;
but if it brings misfortune upon you, only blame yourself." The Chinese
ambassador became pensive; he took infinite pinches of snuff, one after
another, and then, as the result of long reflection, told his suite to
retire, and to leave us alone with him.
When everyone had gone, M. Huc began: "Now," said he to Ki-Chan, "you
will understand why I wished to speak to you in private, and how
important it is to you that no one should hear what I have to tell you.
You will judge if we are dangerous men, we who fear even to injure our
persecutors." Ki-Chan was pale and disconcerted. "Let us hear," said
he; "explain yourself--let your words be candid and clear; what would you
say?" "In your report, there is an inexactitude; you make me set out
from Macao with my brother Joseph Gabet, and yet I did not enter China
till four years after him." "Oh, if that is all, it is easy to correct
it." "Yes, very easy. This report, you say, is for your Emperor; is it
not so?" "Certainly." "In that case, it is your duty to tell the
Emperor the truth and nothing but the truth." "Oh, nothing but the
truth; let us correct the report. At what period did you enter China?"
"In the twentieth year of Tao-Kouang (1840)." Ki-Chan took his pencil
and wrote in the margin--twentieth year of Tao-Kouang. "What moon?"
"The second moon." Ki-Chan hearing us speak of the second moon, laid
down his pencil and looked at us with a fixed stare. "Yes, I entered the
Chinese empire in the twentieth year of Tao-Kouang, in the second moon; I
passed through the province of Canton, of which you were at that time
viceroy. Why do you not write? are you not to tell all the truth to the
Emperor?" The face of Ki-Chan contracted. "Do you see now why I wished
to talk to you in private?" "Yes, I know the Christians are good
people--does anyone here know of this matter?" "No, not anyone."
Ki-Chan took the report, tore it up; he wrote a fresh one, entirely
different from the first. The dates of our first entry into China were
not exactly set forth, and there was a pompous eulogium on our knowledge
and sanctity. The poor man had been simple enough to believe that we
attached a great importance to his Emperor's good opinion of us.
In accordance with the orders of Ki-Chan, we were to set out after the
festivals of the Thibetian new year. We had only been at Lha-Ssa two
months, and we had already passed the new year twice, first the European
new year, and then the Chinese; it was now the turn of the Thibetian.
Although at Lha-Ssa, they reckon the year as in China, according to the
lunar system, yet the calendars of these two countries do not agree: that
of Lha-Ssa is always a month behind that of Peking. It is known that the
Chinese, the Mongols, and most of the peoples of Eastern Asia, make use
in their chronological calculations of a sexagenary cycle, composed of
ten signs called trunks, and of twelve signs which bear the name of
branches. Among the Tartars and Thibetians, the signs of the denary
cycle are expressed by the names of the five elements repeated twice, or
by the names of the five colours with their shades. The names of twelve
animals denote the duodenary cycle.
DENARY CYCLE
MONGOL THIBETIAN
1 Moto Cheng Wood
2 Moto Cheng Wood
3 Gal Me Fire
4 Gal Me Fire
5 Chere Sa Earth
6 Chere Sa Earth
7 Temur Dchak Iron
8 Temur Dchak Iron
9 Oussou Tchon Water
10 Oussou Tchon Water
DUODENARY CYCLE
MONGOL THIBETIAN
1 Khouloukhana Chi-wa Mouse
2 Oukhere Lang Ox
3 Bara Tak Tiger
4 Tole Yen Hare
5 Lou Dchouk Dragon
6 Mokhe Phroul Serpent
7 Mori Ria Horse
8 Khoui Lonk Ram
9 Betchi Preou Monkey
10 Takia Chia Fowl
11 Nokhe Dchi Dog
12 Khakhe Phak Pig
To form the sexagenary cycle, the two first cycles are combined in the
following manner:--
SEXAGENARY CYCLE
MONGOL
1 Moto khouloukhana Wooden mouse
2 Moto oukhere Wooden ox
3 Gal bara Fire tiger
4 Gal tole Fire hare
5 Chere lou Earth dragon
6 Chere Mokhe Earth serpent
7 Temur mori Iron horse
8 Temur knoui Iron ram
9 Oussou betchi Water monkey
10 Oussou takia Water fowl
11 Moto nokhe Wooden dog
12 Moto khakhe Wooden pig
13 Gal khouloukhana Fire mouse
14 Gal oukhere Fire ox
15 Chere bara Earth tiger
16 Chere tole Earth hare
17 Temur lou Iron dragon
18 Temur mokhe Iron serpent
19 Oussou mori Water horse
20 Ousson khoui Water ram
21 Moto betchi Wooden monkey
22 Moto takia Wooden fowl
23 Gal nokhe Fire dog
24 Gal khakhe Fire pig
25 Chere khouloukhana Earth mouse
26 Chere oukhere Earth ox
27 Temur bara Iron tiger
28 Temur tole Iron hare
29 Oussou lou Water dragon
30 Oussou makhe Water serpent
31 Moto mori Wooden horse
32 Moto khoui Wooden ram
33 Gal betchi Fire monkey
34 Gal takia Fire chicken
35 Chere nokhe Earth dog
36 Chere khakhe Earth pig
37 Temur khouloukhana Iron mouse
38 Temur oukhere Iron ox
39 Oussou bara Water tiger
40 Oussou tole Water hare
41 Moto lou Wooden dragon
42 Moto mokhe Wooden serpent
43 Gal mori Fire horse
44 Gal khoui Fire ram
45 Chere betchi Earth monkey
46 Chere takia Earth fowl
47 Temur mokhe Iron dog
48 Temur khakhe Iron pig
49 Oussou khouloukhana Water mouse
50 Oussou oukhere Water ox
51 Moto bara Wooden tiger
52 Moto tole Wooden hare
53 Gal lou Fire dragon
54 Gal mokhe Fire serpent
55 Chere mori Earth horse
56 Chere khoui Earth ram
57 Temur betchi Iron monkey
58 Temur takia Iron fowl
59 Oussou nokhe Water dog
60 Oussou khakhe Water pig
As this cycle returns periodically every sixty years, it may be imagined
that great confusion might occur in chronology, if they had not a sure
method of fixing the past sexagenary cycles. To obviate this
inconvenience, the sovereigns give to each year of their reign a
particular name, and by this means the cyclic epochs are fixed in a way
to leave no doubt. Thus the Mongols say, "The twenty-eighth year
Tao-Kouang, which is that of the fiery ram (1848.)" In China, the
present sexagenary cycle commenced with the year 1805, and the years
Tao-Kouang date from 1820, the epoch when the Emperor now reigning
mounted the throne. It is to be observed that Chun-Tchi, Khang-Hi,
Young-Tching, Kien-Long, Kia-King, Tao-Kouang, are not at all the names
of the six first Emperors of the Mantchou dynasty, but special
denominations to denote the years of their reign.
The Thibetians have adopted the use of the denary and duodenary cycles.
But by making them undergo more numerous combinations than the Mongols,
they obtain a cycle of 252 years. The twelve first years merely bear the
names of twelve animals; then these same names are combined with those of
the five elements, repeated twice up to the 72nd year of the cycle. They
then add to these combinations the word _po_ (male), which carries them
up to the 132nd year; then the word _mo_ (female), which takes it up to
the 192nd year; finally, they alternate the words _po_ and _mo_ to the
end of the cycle.
This chronological system, too complicated for the use of the lower
classes, is confined to the Lamaseries, where it is studied and
understood by the more learned Lamas. The masses live on from day to
day, without an idea even of the existence of this method of combining
the cycles. Except the Regent, we found no one at Lha-Ssa who could tell
us in what year we were. They seemed generally to be wholly unaware of
the importance of denoting dates and years by particular names. One of
the highest functionaries of Lha-Ssa, a very celebrated Lama, told us
that the Chinese method of counting the years was very embarrassing, and
not at all comparable with the simplicity of the Thibetian method; he
thought it more natural to say plainly, this year, last year, twenty or a
hundred years ago, and so on. When we told him that this method would
only serve to make history an inextricable confusion, "Provided we know,"
said he, "what occurred in times gone by, that is the essential point.
What is the good of knowing the precise date of the occurrences? Of what
use is that?"
This contempt, or rather this indifference for chronology, is observable,
in fact, in most of the Lamanesque works; they are frequently without
order or date, and merely present to the reader a hotch-potch of
anecdotes piled one on another, without any precision, either about
persons or events. Fortunately the history of the Thibetians being
continually mixed up with that of the Chinese and the Tartars, one can
apply the literature of these latter peoples to the introduction of a
little order and precision into the Thibetian chronology.
During our stay at Lha-Ssa, we had occasion to remark that the Thibetians
are very bad chronologists, not only with respect to leading dates, but
even in the manner of reckoning each day the age of the moon. Their
almanac is in a state of truly melancholy confusion, and this confusion
entirely proceeds from the superstitious ideas of the Buddhists
respecting lucky and unlucky days; all the days reputed unlucky, which
occur in the course of the moon, are omitted, and do not count. Thus,
for example, if the fifteenth day of the moon is a day of ill omen, they
count the fourteenth twice over, and pass on direct to the sixteenth.
Sometimes several days of ill-omen occur one after the other; but that is
of no consequence; they cut them all off just the same, until they come
to a lucky day. The Thibetians do not seem to find the least
inconvenience in such a method.
The renewal of the year is, with the Thibetians, as with all people, a
season of festivals and rejoicings. The last days of the twelfth moon
are consecrated to the preparations for it; people lay in supplies of
tea, butter, tsamba, barley wine, and some joints of beef and mutton.
The holiday clothes are taken from the wardrobes; they remove the dust
under which the furniture is generally hidden; they furbish up, clean,
sweep, and try, in a word, to introduce into the interior of their houses
a little order and neatness. The thing only happening once a year, all
the households assume a new aspect; the domestic altars are the objects
of especial care; they repaint the old idols, and they make, with fresh
butter, pyramids, flowers, and various ornaments designed to deck the
little sanctuaries where the Buddhas of the family reside.
The first Louk-So, or Rite of the Festival, commences at midnight, so
that every one sits up, impatiently awaiting this mystical and solemn
hour, which is to close the old year, and open the course of the new. As
we were not anxious to catch the exact point of intersection which
separates the two Thibetian years, we went to sleep at our usual hour.
We were in a deep slumber, when we were suddenly awakened by the cries of
joy which issued from all sides, in all quarters of the town. Bells,
cymbals, marine conches, tambourines, and all the instruments of
Thibetian music, were set to work, and operated the most frightful uproar
imaginable; it seemed as though they were receiving the new-born year
with a charivari. We had once a good mind to get up, to witness the
happiness of the merry inhabitants of Lha-Ssa, but the cold was so
cutting that after serious reflection, we opined that it would be better
to remain under our thick woollen coverlets, and to unite ourselves in
heart with the public felicity. Repeated knocks on the door of our
house, threatening to dash it into splinters, warned us that we must
renounce our project. After several excuses, we were at last fain to
leave our warm beds; we donned our clothes, and the door being opened,
some Thibetians of our acquaintance rushed into our room, inviting us to
the new year's banquet. They all bore in their hands a small vessel made
of baked earth, in which floated on boiling water, balls composed of
honey and flour. One of these visitors offered us a long silver needle,
terminating in a hook, and invited us to fish in his basin. At first, we
sought to excuse ourselves, objecting that we were not in the habit of
taking food during the night, but they entreated us in so engaging a
manner, they put out their tongues at us with so friendly a grace, that
we were obliged to resign ourselves to the Louk-So. We each hooked a
ball, which we then crushed between our teeth to ascertain its flavour.
We looked at each other, making grimaces; however, for politeness sake,
we had to swallow the dose. If we could only have got off with this
first act of devotion! but the Louk-So was inexorable; the numerous
friends we had at Lha-Ssa succeeded each other almost without
interruption, and we had perforce to munch Thibetian sweetmeats till
daybreak.
The second Louk-So also consists in making visits, but with a different
ceremony. As soon as the dawn appears, the Thibetians walk through the
streets of the town, carrying in one hand a pot of buttered tea, and in
the other a large gilt and varnished plate, filled with tsamba, piled up
in the form of a pyramid, and surmounted by three ears of barley. On
these occasions, it is not allowed to pay visits without the tsamba and
the buttered tea. As soon as you have entered the house of a person to
whom you propose to wish a happy year, you first of all make three
prostrations before the domestic altar, which is solemnly adorned and
illuminated; then, after having burnt some leaves of cedar, or other
aromatic tree, in a large copper censer, you offer to every one present a
cup of tea, and hand the plate, from which each takes a pinch of tsamba.
The people of the house reciprocate the compliment to the visitors. The
inhabitants of Lha-Ssa have a saying, the Thibetians celebrate the
festival of the new year with tsamba and buttered tea; the Chinese with
red paper and crackers; the Katchi with delicate meats and tobacco; the
Peboun with songs and sports.
Although this popular saying is correct enough, the Pebouns do not
altogether monopolize the gaiety of the period. The Thibetians also
enliven their new years' fetes with noisy rejoicings, in which the song
and the dance always play a large part. Groups of children, with
numerous bells hung from their green dresses, pervade the streets,
giving, from house to house, concerts that are not wanting in harmony.
The song, generally sweet and melancholy, is interspersed with animated
choruses. During the strophe, all these little singers keep marking the
time, by making, with their bodies, a slow and regular movement like the
swinging of a pendulum; but when they come to the chorus, they vigorously
stamp their feet on the ground in exact time. The noise of the bells,
and of the nailed boots, produces a kind of wild accompaniment that
strikes upon the ear not disagreeably, especially when it is heard at a
certain distance. These youthful _dilettanti_ having performed their
concert, it is usual with those for whom they have sung to distribute
among them cakes fried in nut-oil, and some balls of butter.
On the principal squares, and in front of the public monuments, you see,
from morning till night, troops of comedians and tumblers amusing the
people with their representations. The Thibetians have not, like the
Chinese, collections of theatrical pieces; their comedians remain
altogether and continuously on the stage, now singing and dancing, now
exhibiting feats of strength and agility. The ballet is the exercise in
which they seem to excel the most. They waltz, they bound, they tumble,
they _pirouette_ with truly surprising agility. Their dress consists of
a cap, surmounted by long pheasants' plumes, a black mask adorned with a
white beard of prodigious length, large white pantaloons, and a green
tunic coming down to the knees, and bound round the waist by a yellow
girdle. To this tunic are attached, at equal distances, long cords, at
the end of which are thick tufts of white wool. When the actor balances
himself in time, these tufts gracefully accompany the movements of his
body; and when he whirls round they stick out horizontally, form a wheel
round the performer, and seem, as it were, to accelerate the rapidity of
his _pirouettes_.
You also see at Lha-Ssa a sort of gymnastic exercise called the Dance of
the Spirits. A long cord, made of leathern straps, strongly plaited
together, is attached to the top of the Buddha-La, and descends to the
foot of the mountain. The dancing sprites go up and down this cord, with
an agility only to be compared with that of cats or monkeys. Sometimes,
when they have reached the top, they fling out their arms as if about to
swim, and let themselves slide down the rope with the velocity of an
arrow. The inhabitants of the province of Ssang are reputed the most
skilful in this kind of exercise.
The most singular thing we observed at Lha-Ssa, during the new year's
festival, is what the Thibetians call the Lha-Ssa-Morou, that is, the
total invasion of the town, and its environs, by innumerable bands of
Lamas. The Lha-Ssa-Morou commences on the third day of the first moon.
All the Buddhist monasteries of the province of Oui open their doors to
their numerous inhabitants, and you see great bodies of Lamas, on foot,
on horseback, on asses, on oxen, and carrying their prayer-books and
cooking utensils, arriving tumultuously by all the roads leading to
Lha-Ssa. The town is soon overwhelmed at all points, by these avalanches
of Lamas, pouring from all the surrounding mountains. Those who cannot
get lodgings in private houses, or in public edifices, encamp in the
streets and squares, or pitch their little travelling tents in the
country. The Lha-Ssa-Morou lasts six entire days. During this time, the
tribunals are closed, the ordinary course of justice is suspended, the
ministers and public functionaries lose in some degree their authority,
and all the power of the government is abandoned to this formidable army
of Buddhist monks. There prevails in the town an inexpressible disorder
and confusion. The Lamas run through the streets in disorderly bands,
uttering frightful cries, chanting prayers, pushing one another about,
quarrelling, and sometimes having furious contests with their fists.
Although the Lamas generally show little reserve or modesty during these
festive days, it is not to be supposed that they go to Lha-Ssa merely to
indulge in amusements incompatible with their religious character; it is
devotion, on the contrary, which is their chief motive. Their purpose is
to implore the blessing of the Tale-Lama, and to make a pilgrimage to the
celebrated Buddhist monastery called Morou, which occupies the centre of
the town. Hence the name of Lha-Ssa-Morou given to these six festive
days.
The monastery of Morou is remarkable for the splendour and wealth
displayed in its temples. The order and neatness which always prevail
here, make it, as it were, the model and example for the other
monasteries of the province. West of the principal temple, there is a
vast garden surrounded by a peristyle. In this is the printing
establishment. Numerous workmen, belonging to the Lamasery, are daily
occupied in engraving blocks, and printing Buddhist books. Their process
being the same as that of the Chinese, which is sufficiently understood,
we shall dispense with describing it. The Lamas who pay their annual
visit to the festival of the Lha-Ssa-Morou, take the opportunity to
purchase the books they require.
In the district of Lha-Ssa alone, they reckon more than thirty large
Buddhist monasteries. {219} Those of Khaldhan, of Preboung and Sera, are
the most celebrated and the most populous. Each of them contains nearly
15,000 Lamas.
Khaldhan, which means in Thibetian "celestial beatitude," is the name of
a mountain situated east of Lha-Ssa about four leagues. It is on the
summit of this mountain that the Lamasery of Khaldhan stands. According
to the Lamanesque books, it was founded in the year 1409 of our era, by
the famous Tsong-Kaba, reformer of Buddhism, and founder of the sect of
the yellow cap. Tsong-Kaba fixed his residence there, and it was there
he quitted his human envelope, when his soul was absorbed in the
universal essence. The Thibetians pretend that they still see his
marvellous body there, fresh, incorruptible, sometimes speaking, and, by
a permanent prodigy, always holding itself in the air without any
support. We have nothing to say about this belief of the Buddhists,
because the too short stay we made at Lha-Ssa did not permit us to visit
the monastery of Khaldhan.
The Lamasery of Preboung (ten thousand fruits) is situate two leagues
west of Lha-Ssa; it is built on the site of a lofty mountain. In the
centre of the monastery, rises a sort of kiosk, magnificently ornamented,
and all shining with gold and paintings. It is reserved for the
Tale-Lama, who repairs thither once a year, to explain to the monks the
contents of the sacred volumes. The Mongol Lamas, who come to Thibet to
perfect themselves in the science of prayer, and to obtain the degrees of
the Lamanesque hierarchy, generally fix themselves at Preboung, which, on
that account, is sometimes called in the country a Monastery of the
Mongols.
[Picture: The Tortche, or Sanctified Instrument]
Sera is situated north of Lha-Ssa not more than half a league from the
town. The Buddhist temples and the residences of the Lamas, stand on the
slope of a mountain planted with hollies and cypresses. The road
followed by the pilgrims who come from Tartary, passes by these houses.
At a distance, these monuments, ranged in the form of an amphitheatre one
above the other, and standing out upon the green base of the mountain,
present an attractive and picturesque sight. Here and there, in the
breaks of the mountain, and quite above the religious city, you see a
great number of cells inhabited by contemplative Lamas, and which you can
only reach with great difficulty. The monastery of Sera is remarkable
for three large temples of several stories high, all the rooms of which
are entirely gilt. Hence it is that the Lamasery has acquired the name
of Sera, from the Thibetian word _ser_, which signifies gold. In the
chief of these three temples, they religiously preserve the famous
tortche, or sanctifying instrument, which, in the belief of the
Buddhists, came from India through the air, to place itself, if its own
accord, in the monastery of Sera. This instrument is of bronze, in form
resembling a pestle; the middle, by which you hold it, is in one piece,
and cylindrical; the two extremities swell out in oval form, and are
covered with symbolical figures. Every Lama must possess a small
_tortche_, made on the model of that which marvellously came from India.
When they repeat their prayers, and during the religious ceremonies, this
instrument is indispensable to them: they must sometimes hold it,
sometimes lay it on their knees; then take hold of it again, and turn it
in their hand, according to the rules of the ritual. The _tortche_ of
Sera is the object of great veneration. The pilgrims never fail to go
and prostrate themselves before the niche, wherever it lies. At the new
year's festival, it is carried in procession, with great pomp, to
Lha-Ssa, to be presented to the adoration of the people of the town.
While the innumerable Lamas of Lha-Ssa-Morou were celebrating with
transport their noisy festival, we, our hearts oppressed with sorrow,
were occupied in the preparation for departure. We took down the little
chapel wherein we had tasted such sweet, but alas, too short,
consolation. After having essayed to plough and sow a poor little corner
of this immense desert, we were obliged to abandon it, saying to
ourselves that shortly, no doubt, the briar and the thorn would spring
forth in abundance, and suffocate those precious germs of salvation,
which were already beginning to grow. Oh, how bitter and depressing were
these thoughts! We felt our hearts breaking, and we had only strength
enough to supplicate the Lord to send, to these poor children of
darkness, missionaries more worthy of bearing to them the light of the
faith.
The evening before our departure, one of the secretaries of the Regent
entered our lodging, and presented to us, in his name, two great ingots
of silver. This attention on the part of the first kalon affected us
deeply, but we considered we ought not to accept this sum. In the
evening, on going to his palace to bid him adieu, we took back to him the
two ingots. We laid them before him on a small table, protesting to him
that this proceeding resulted from no ill-feeling on our part; that, on
the contrary, we should always remember, with gratitude, the good
treatment we had received from the Thibetian government, during the short
stay we had made at Lha-Ssa; that we had no hesitation in expressing our
belief that if it had depended on the Regent, we should throughout have
enjoyed in Thibet, the most tranquil and honourable repose; but that, as
to this money, we could not receive it without compromising our
conscience as missionaries and the honour of our nation. The Regent did
not seem in any degree irritated by this proceeding. He told us that he
understood our conduct, and could appreciate the objection we had
expressed; that he would not insist on our accepting this money, but that
still he should be very glad to make us some present upon separating.
Then pointing to a dictionary in four languages, which he had often
observed us turning over with interest, he asked us if this work would be
agreeable to us. We thought we might receive this present without
compromising in any way the dignity of our character, and we, on our
parts, expressed to the Regent how happy we should be if he would deign
to accept, as a reminiscence of France, the microscope, which had so
excited his curiosity; our offer was kindly received.
At the moment of separation, the Regent rose and addressed to us these
words:--"You are going away, but who can know future events? You are men
of astonishing courage. Since you have been able to get thus far, I know
you have in your hearts a great and holy resolve. I think you will never
forget it; for my part, I shall always bear it in mind. You understand
me: circumstances will not permit me to say more." "We understand," we
replied to the Regent, "the full bearing of your words, and we will
implore our God to realize one day the purpose they express." We then
parted, our hearts bursting with grief, from this man who had been so
kind to us, and by whose means we had formed the hope of making known,
with God's help, the truths of Christianity to these poor people of
Thibet.
When we re-entered our house, we found the Cashmerian governor awaiting
us; he had brought us some provision for our journey; some excellent
dried fruits from Ladak, cakes made of flour, butter, and eggs. He
insisted upon passing all the evening with us, to assist us in packing
our trunks. As he intended shortly to visit Calcutta, we charged him to
give intelligence of us to the first Frenchman he should meet in the
English possessions in India. We also gave him a letter, which we
entreated him to get forwarded to the representative of the French
government at Calcutta. In this letter, we briefly explained the
circumstances of our stay in the capital of Thibet, and the reasons of
our departure.
It seemed to us advisable to take this measure, when we were about to
commence a journey of a thousand leagues, along frightful roads
continually bordered with precipices. We thought that, if it should be
the will of God for us to be buried amid the mountains of Thibet, our
friends in France would at least know what had become of us.
The same evening, Samdadchiemba came to bid us adieu. On the day that
the Chinese ambassador had resolved to make us leave Thibet, our dear
neophyte had been taken from us. It is needless to say how hard and
painful this trial was; but to this measure, we could not, either the
Regent or ourselves, offer any objection. Samdadchiemba was a native of
the province of Kan-Sou, directly subject to the Chinese authority.
Although our influence with Ki-Chan vas not very great, yet we got him to
promise that Samdadchiemba should suffer no injurious treatment, and
should be sent back safe to his family. Ki-Chan promised this, and we
have since ascertained that he was true to his word. The Regent was full
of kindness towards our neophyte. As soon as he was separated from us,
he took care that he should want for nothing; he even gave him a sum of
money to provide for his journey. With what circumstances allowed us to
add to this, Samdadchiemba was enabled to amass a small fortune, and to
place himself in a position to return in a fitting manner to his paternal
dwelling. We recommended him to go to his aged mother, and fulfil the
duties which filial affection dictates, to instruct her in the mysteries
of the Christian faith, and to cause her to enjoy at her last moments the
benefit of baptismal regeneration; then, when he had closed her eyes, to
return and pass his days among the Christians.
To say the truth, Samdadchiemba was not an amiable young man; sour,
savage, and sometimes saucy, he was by no means an agreeable
fellow-traveller; yet he had in him a groundwork of honesty and devotion,
quite capable, in our opinion, of compensating for the perversities of
his nature. We felt at parting from him a deep affliction, and all the
more so, that we had never suspected the existence, at the bottom of our
hearts, of so strong an attachment to this young man. But we had made
together a long and painful journey; we had endured together so many
privations, and so much misery, that, unconsciously, our existence was,
so to speak, fused with his. The law of affinity which unites men to
each other, acts with much more power amidst suffering, than in
prosperity.
On the day appointed for our departure, two Chinese soldiers came, early
in the morning, to inform us that the Ta-Lao-Ye, Ly-Kouo-Ngan; that is to
say, his Excellency Ly, pacificator of kingdoms, awaited us at breakfast.
This personage was the Mandarin whom the ambassador Ki-Chan had appointed
to accompany us to China. We fulfilled his invitation; and, as the
departure was to take place from his house, we had our luggage
transported thither.
Ly, the pacificator of kingdoms, was a native of Tchang-Tou-Fou, capital
of the province of Sse-Tchouen; he belonged to the hierarchy of the
military mandarins. For twelve years he had served in Gorkha, a province
of Boutan, where he obtained rapid promotion, and reaching the dignity of
Tou-Sse, with the general command of the troops guarding the frontiers
bordering on the English possessions, he was decorated with the blue
button, and enjoyed the privilege of wearing in his cap seven sable
tails. Ly-Kouo-Ngan was only forty-five years old, but you would have
taken him for seventy; so broken and battered was he; he had hardly any
teeth left in his head; his scanty hair was grey; his dull and glassy
eyes endured a strong light with difficulty; his flabby wrinkled face,
his totally withered hands, and his enormous legs, upon which he could
scarcely support his frame, all bespoke a man exhausted by great
excesses. We thought at first that this premature senility resulted from
an immoderate use of opium, but he informed us himself, in our very first
conversation, that it was brandy which had reduced him to this state.
Having obtained permission to quit the service, he was now about to seek,
in the bosom of his family, and by a careful and severe diet, the
restoration of his shattered health. The ambassador Ki-Chan had in fact
hurried our departure in order that we might go in company with this
Mandarin, who in his quality of Tou-Sse, was entitled to an escort of
fifteen soldiers.
Ly-Kouo-Ngan was very well instructed for a military Mandarin; the
knowledge he had of the Chinese literature, and above all, his eminently
observant character, rendered his conversation effective and full of
interest. He spoke slowly, almost in a drawling manner, but he had the
faculty of giving to his stories and general conversation a dramatic and
picturesque turn. He was very fond of philosophical and religious
discussions; he had even, he said, magnificent projects of perfection for
the time, when quiet and unembarrassed in his family, he should have
nothing to do but to play at chess with his friends, or go and see the
play. He believed neither in the Bonzes nor in the Lamas; as to the
doctrine of the Lord of Heaven, he scarcely knew what it was, and
required to be initiated in it before he embraced it. Meanwhile, all his
religion consisted in a fervent veneration for the Great Bear. He
affected aristocratic manners and exquisite polish; unfortunately, he
happened sometimes to forget himself, and to expose his altogether
plebeian origin. It is superfluous to add that his excellency the
pacificator of kingdoms, was passionately fond of silver ingots;
otherwise it would have been difficult to recognise in him a Chinese,
much less a Mandarin. Ly-Kouo-Ngan had a luxurious breakfast prepared
for us; and his table seemed to us all the finer as for two years we had
been used to live almost like savages. The habit of eating with our
fingers had nearly made us forget the use of the Chinese chop-sticks.
When we had finished, Ly-Kouo-Ngan informed us that everything was ready
for departure, but, that before setting out, it was his duty to go to the
palace of the ambassador, with his company of soldiers, to take leave.
He asked us if we would not accompany him. "By all means," we replied,
"let us go together to the residence of the ambassador; you will fulfil
your duty, and we a politeness."
We entered, our guide and ourselves, the apartment where Ki-Chan sat.
The fifteen soldiers drew up in file at the threshold of the door, after
prostrating themselves thrice and striking the earth with their
foreheads. The pacificator of kingdoms did the same, but the poor wretch
could not himself get up again without our assistance. According to our
custom, we saluted by placing our caps under our arms. Ki-Chan opened
the discourse, and addressed a short speech to each of us.
Addressing us first, he assumed a wheedling tone: "You," said he, "are
going to return to your country; I do not think you have any complaint to
make of me; my conduct towards you has been irreproachable. I do not
allow you to stay here, but this is the will of the grand Emperor, not
mine. I do not suffer you to go to India, because the laws of the empire
forbid it; if it were otherwise, I, old as I am, would accompany you
myself to the frontiers. The road you are about to travel is not so
horrible as you are led to imagine; you will have, it is true, a little
snow, you will pass some high mountains, and some of the days will be
cold. You see I do not conceal the truth from you. Why should I try to
mislead you? but at all events, you will have attendants to wait upon
you, and every evening you will have a lodging for the night ready for
you; you will have no need to put up a tent. Is not this travelling
better than that on your way hither? You will be obliged to travel on
horseback; I cannot give you a palanquin; there are none to be got in
this country. The report I am going to address to the grand Emperor will
be sent in a few days. As my couriers go day and night they will pass
you. When you have reached in safety the capital of Sse-Tchouen, the
viceroy, Pao, will take charge of you, and my responsibility will be at
an end. You may depart in confidence and with joyful hearts. I have
sent on orders that you shall be well treated throughout. May the star
of happiness guide you in your journey from beginning to end." "Although
we consider ourselves oppressed," replied we to Ki-Chan, "we do not the
less on that account offer up wishes for your prosperity. Since it is to
dignities you aspire, may you recover all those you have lost, and attain
still higher." "Oh, my star is unlucky! my star is unlucky!" cried
Ki-Chan, taking a vigorous pinch of snuff from his silver box.
Then addressing himself to the pacificator of kingdoms, his voice assumed
a grave and solemn tone, "Ly-Kouo-Ngan," said he, "since the grand
Emperor allows you to return to your family, you depart; you will have
these two fellow-travellers, and this circumstance ought to cause you
great joy, for the way, you know, is long and tedious. The character of
these men is full of justice and gentleness; you will therefore live with
them in perfect harmony. Take care never to sadden their hearts, by
word, or deed. Another important thing I have still to say: As you have
served the empire for twelve years on the frontiers of Gorkha, I have
commanded the paymaster to send you 500 ounces of silver; it is a present
from the grand Emperor." At these words Ly-Kouo-Ngan, finding all at
once an unwonted suppleness in his legs, threw himself on his knees with
vehemence: "The heavenly beneficence of the great Emperor," said he, "has
always surrounded me on every side, but unworthy servant that I am, how
could I receive a further signal favour without blushing? I address my
heartfelt supplications to the ambassador, that I may hide my face from
him, and withdraw myself from this undeserved graciousness." Ki-Chan
replied, "Do you imagine the grand Emperor will thank you for your
disinterestedness? What are a few ounces of silver? Go, receive this
small sum, as it is offered to you; it will furnish you with tea to offer
to your friends; but when you get home, take care not to begin drinking
brandy again. If you wish to live a few years longer, you must deny
yourself brandy. I say to you this, because a Father and Mother ought to
give their children good advice." Ly-Kouo-Ngan struck the earth thrice
with his forehead, and then rose up and placed himself beside us.
Ki-Chan then harangued the soldiers, and changed his tone for the third
time. His voice was sharp, abrupt, and sometimes bordering on anger.
"And you soldiers!" at these words the fifteen soldiers, as though moved
by one string, fell together on their knees, and retained that position
all the time of the harangue. "Let me see, how many are there of you?
You are fifteen, I think," and at the same time he counted them with his
finger; "yes, fifteen men; you, fifteen soldiers, are about to return to
your own province; your service is fulfilled; you will escort your
Tou-Sse to Sse-Tchouen, as also these two strangers. On the way you will
serve them faithfully, and take care to be always respectful and
obedient. Do you clearly understand what I say?" "Yes, we do." "When
you pass through the villages of the _Poba_ (Thibetians) beware that you
do not oppress the people. At the stations take care not to rob or
pillage the property of any person. Do you clearly understand?" "Yes,
we do." "Do not injure the flocks, respect the cultivated fields, do not
set fire to the woods. Do you clearly understand me?" "Yes, we do."
"Among yourselves let there always be peace and harmony. Are you not all
soldiers of the empire? Do not then abuse or quarrel with one another.
Do you understand clearly?" "Yes, we do." "Whoever conducts himself
badly, let him not hope to escape chastisement; his crime will be
investigated attentively, and severely punished. Do you clearly
understand?" "Yes, we do." "As you understand, obey and tremble."
After this brief but energetic peroration, the fifteen soldiers struck
the ground with their foreheads thrice and rose.
[Picture: Adieu of Ki-Chan]
Just as we were leaving the residence of the ambassador, Ki-Chan drew us
apart, to say a few words in private. "In a little while," said he, "I
shall leave Thibet, and return to China. {227} In order that I may not
be too much encumbered with luggage, on my departure, I am going to send
two large cases with you; they are covered with the hide of a long-haired
ox." He then told us the characters with which they were marked. "These
two cases," added he, "I recommend to your care. Every evening, when you
reach the station, have them deposited in the place where you yourselves
pass the night. At Tching-Tou-Fou, capital of Sse-Tchouen, you will
commit them to the care of Pao-Tchoung-Tang, viceroy of the province.
Keep a good eye on your own property, for in the route you will pursue,
there are many petty thieves." Having assured Ki-Chan that we would
observe his recommendation, we rejoined Ly-Kouo-Ngan, who was waiting for
us on the threshold of the great entrance gate.
It was rather curious that the Chinese ambassador should think fit to
confide his treasure to us, whilst he had at his disposal a Grand
Mandarin, who was naturally called upon by his position to render him
this service. But the jealousy which Ki-Chan felt towards strangers did
not make him forget his own interests. He considered, no doubt, that it
would be more safe to trust his cases to missionaries than to a Chinese,
even though the Chinese was a Mandarin. This token of confidence gave us
great pleasure. It was a homage rendered to the probity of Christians,
and, at the same time, a bitter satire upon the Chinese character.
We proceeded to the house of Ly-Kouo-Ngan, where eighteen horses, ready
saddled, were awaiting us in the court-yard. The three best were
standing apart, reserved for the Tou-Sse and ourselves. The fifteen
others were for the soldiers, and each was to take the one which fell to
him by lot.
Before we mounted, a strong-limbed Thibetian female, very fairly dressed,
presented herself: she was the wife of Ly-Kouo-Ngan. He had been married
to her six years, and was about to leave her for ever; he only had one
child by her, which had died in its infancy. As these two conjugal
halves were never again to see each other, it was but natural that at the
moment of so afflicting a separation, there should be a few words of
adieu. The thing was publicly done, and in the following manner: "We are
going to part," said the husband, "do you stay here and sit quietly in
your room." "Go in peace," replied the wife, "go hence in peace, and
take care of the swellings in your legs." She then put her hand before
her eyes, to make believe she was crying. "Look here," said the
pacificator of kingdoms, turning to us, "they are odd people these
Thibetian women. I leave her a well-built house, and plenty of furniture
almost new, and yet she is going to cry--is she not content?"
After this adieu, so full of unction and tenderness, every one mounted,
and the party set out down the streets of Lha-Ssa, taking care to select
those less encumbered with Lamas.
When we were out of the town, we perceived a large group awaiting us.
They were those inhabitants of Lha-Ssa, with whom we had had more
intimate acquaintance, during our stay in that town. Many of them had
begun to learn the truths of Christianity, and seemed to us sincerely
disposed to embrace our holy religion; they had assembled on our road to
salute us and offer us a farewell khata. We observed, amongst them, the
young physician, still wearing on his breast the cross we had given him.
We dismounted, [Picture: Parting of Ly-Kouo-Ngan with his wife] and
addressed to these Christian hearts a few words of consolation; we
exhorted them courageously to renounce the superstitious worship of
Buddha, to adore the God of the Christians, and ever to have full trust
in his infinite mercy. Oh, how cruel was that moment, when we were
obliged to part from these well-beloved Catechumens, to whom we had as
yet only pointed out the path of eternal salvation without being able to
guide their first steps! Alas! we could do nothing further for them,
except to implore Divine Providence to have compassion on these souls
redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ.
As we were remounting, we saw a horseman advancing towards us at full
gallop. It was the governor of the Cashmerians, who had resolved to
accompany us as far as the river Bo-Tchou. We were extremely touched by
so friendly an attention, which, however, did not surprise us at all on
the part of a sincere and devoted friend, who had given us repeated
proofs of his attachment during our stay at Lha-Ssa.
The arrival of the governor of the Cashmerians occasioned us to ride on
slowly, for we had much to say. At length, after an hour's march, we
reached the borders of the Bo-Tchou. We found there a Thibetian escort,
which the Regent had ordered to conduct us to the frontiers of China; it
was composed of seven men and a Grand Lama, bearing the title of _Dheba_
(governor of a district). With the Chinese escort, we formed a caravan
of twenty-six horsemen, without counting the drivers of a large herd of
oxen that carried our baggage.
Two large ferry-boats were ready to receive the horsemen and the horses;
the latter jumped in at a single bound, and drew up in a line, one beside
the other. It was easy to see this was not the first time they had
performed this manoeuvre. The men then entered, with the exception of
the Dheba, Ly-Kouo-Ngan, and ourselves. We saw that they were going to
convey us across the river in a rather more aristocratic manner; we
looked in every direction, but saw no means of transit. "How, then, are
we to go over?" "Look below there," they replied, "see the boat coming."
We turned our eyes in the direction indicated, and we perceived, in fact,
a boat and a man coming across the fields, but, contrary to the usual
practice, it was the boat that was carried by the man, and not the man by
the boat. This boatman, running with his back laden with a large boat,
was a thing monstrous to behold. As soon as he reached the river side,
he quietly set down his load, and pushed the boat into the water without
the least effort. It was clearly one thing or the other: either the man
was of prodigious strength, or the boat of extreme lightness. We looked
at the man, and saw nothing extraordinary in him; we approached the boat,
examined it, touched it, and the problem was solved. This large boat was
made of ox hide solidly sewn together; inside, a few light bamboo sticks
served to keep it in shape.
After having heartily shaken hands with the Cashmerian governor, we
entered the boat, but we nearly burst it the first step we made. They
had forgotten to tell us that we must only tread on the bamboo rods.
When we were all embarked, the boatman pushed off with a long pole, and
in the twinkling of an eye we were on the other side of the river; we
sprang ashore, and the owner taking the boat on his back, went off across
the fields.
These hide boats have the disadvantage of not remaining long in the water
without rotting. Each time they are done with, the boatmen take care to
turn them upside down on the beach, to let them dry. Perhaps by
varnishing them well, they might be preserved from the action of the
water, and rendered capable of enduring a longer navigation.
When we were mounted, we cast a last look on the town of Lha-Ssa, still
visible in the distance, and said in our hearts: "Oh, my God, thy will be
done!" and followed in silence the progress of the caravan. It was the
15th of March, 1846.
[Picture: Scene on the river Bo-Tchou]
[Picture: Bridge of Ghiamda]