CHAPTER XVI
As you know, the Tibetans when saluting put out the tongue to its full extent. If they are wearing a cap it is removed and placed upon the ground in sign of respect, especially if the person saluted is of high social standing. The hands, joined with the thumbs together and raised, are waved up and down in front of the forehead.
There is a code of social etiquette among Tibetans even of the most degraded tribes. For instance, it is not customary to enter a tent without first announcing one’s presence and demanding admittance. Also, no Tibetan traveller, except Government messengers, will enter an encampment after dark unless he has warned the inhabitants beforehand.
“Chakzal, Chakzal”
The Tibetan salutation consists in putting out the tongue to its full length.
It must not be argued that because the officials of Tibet—the Lamas particularly—show intense cruelty, especially to foreigners, everybody in [[179]]Tibet is cruel. On the contrary, there are many folks in Tibet who possess generous hearts. The people are charitable to a degree, even the poorest sharing what little they have with strangers poorer than themselves. During my captivity in Tibet, on my first expedition, on many occasions individual Tibetans showed sympathy and consideration, when, had it been discovered, it would have cost them their heads. So that, after all, not all Tibetans are bad. If anything—barring the Lamas—the people are rather good-natured and easygoing, easily led and influenced if taken the right way.
Tibetan men are not fighting men, and are, perhaps, the most contemptible cowards in face of danger. Curiously enough, it is not fear of death which makes them pusillanimous, but apparently the notion of getting hurt and the absolute lack of resolution. If ordered by his superiors and impressed with the idea that if killed by the enemy he will find himself in heaven, whereas if he bolts and returns to camp he will be beheaded and go to a hell of ice and snow—yes, the Tibetan hell is a cool place; but their heaven is warm, with splendid grazing for yaks!—then, indeed, a Tibetan will stand helplessly to be shot without defending himself, while Maxim guns and [[180]]shrapnel and other things of the kind are playing upon him. The carnages of the British Tibet Mission, of which we importers of civilisation should not feel too proud, are a good instance of this.
So, again, although a contemptible coward, he does not fear death. I myself, while in Tibet, could confirm this statement by many personal experiences. When officials came to induce me to leave the country they maintained, and it was true, that they had strict orders from Lhassa to drive me away. If they returned unsuccessful from their mission they would, they declared, be beheaded. When I insisted on continuing my journey they frequently handed me their sword, requesting me to cut off their head then and there, which would save them the dishonour of degradation and a public execution.
A Picturesque Old Fellow
Once or twice, as the Tibetans on my first journey had given me a taste of what it felt like to be taken out to the execution ground and have a sword flourished round my neck, I thought that I was fully entitled to try a practical joke and see what effect the similar sensation would have on Tibetan officers. Only, of course, in my case I had not asked to be beheaded, and therefore the process came more as a surprise, besides being [[181]]carried out in dead earnest up to, but fortunately with a postponement of, the last stroke.
To go on with my narrative, I pretended to accept the offer of the Tibetan officers, and, calling all my men, lined them up to witness the execution. The Tibetan officers knelt down, somewhat trembling but quite resigned, and cleared their necks to make my work easy. Many of them did not flinch, but some did when I approached, brandishing the sword in their own fashion; and, by Jove! the latter proved themselves to be the champion runners of the country. Naturally, I never injured these fellows in any way, and when they showed any determination at all I always gave them a suitable present of some sort or other.
After the performance was over they fully entered into the humour of the joke themselves, and we used to have very hearty laughs over it, and endless cups of tea.
When you travel in Tibet you see, in the daytime, men and women garbed in heavy skin coats; only one sleeve at a time is put on while half the chest and the other arm are left bare. This, to any one not suspecting the reason, looks very incongruous, and has led to all sorts of ridiculous [[182]]explanations from the usual theoretical scientists at home. The real explanation is simple and is this.
As I have elsewhere explained, the heat of the sun is in Tibet very great—especially in Southern Tibet,—the latitude not being many degrees north, and the power of the sun’s rays is even intensified by the clearness of the rarefied air. On the other hand, owing to the immense elevation, the cold is intense wherever the sun does not strike, so that it is not uncommon to feel absolutely roasted on the sunny side and frozen on the other. Hence the necessity of having winter clothing to cover half your anatomy, while the other half demands nothing more than tropical bareness.
An Ambidexter Lama Sculptor carving an Inscription on the Face of a Rock
The Tibetans are not artistic by nature. Their art is of the most rudimentary kind. A few earthen pots, graceful enough in shape, but of no extraordinary beauty, are manufactured by them, and some brass and iron vessels are made in the cities. Also, of course, in a population of several millions there have been a few individuals who have attempted more ambitious works of art, such as paintings (mostly of religious subjects) and sculptures, but although in the paintings the colouring is bright, and much care is devoted to [[183]]details, anatomical accuracy and proportion are always lacking in the figures, and not even a shade of perspective is to be noticed in their landscapes. In certain conventional decorative ways, however, the Tibetans are quite masters, as, for instance, in the gigantic religious inscriptions one frequently finds all over the country upon dangerous vertical cliffs. One of the coloured plates given in this book represents a young Lama—the Lamas can always be distinguished in Tibet by their clean-shaven heads—inscribing the words “Om mani padme hum” upon the face of a rock. The work is carried on at a great height, the artist being suspended in a rope sling. Lamas with any special talent in this direction are kept in monasteries and sent all over the country to adorn the barren landscape, especially on high caravan routes, with these sacred characters. Perhaps, when Tibet has been fully opened to foreign civilisation, these talents will find a more remunerative occupation in substituting for the sacred words advertisements of fancy soaps and hair restorers.
These sculptors, and, in fact, most of the cleverer Tibetans, are practically ambidexter, being able to use either hand, especially in works which require no great delicacy of touch. As can [[184]]be seen in the illustration, the young Lama is using the hammer with his left hand.
The cloth made by Tibetans is of great strength, especially fabrics of yak hair, but seldom of a handsome design. Very irregular designs are occasionally attempted, but usually the Tibetan woman is wise enough never to depart from the striped pattern. Tibetan fabrics are generally woven too narrow for any practical use in European countries. [[185]]