The receipts of the higher Lamas during this season are far greater—often one thousand, two thousand or even as much five thousand yen.
On the other hand all the priests who arrive in Lhasa to attend the ceremony are required to pay their own lodging expenses, at the rate of twenty-five to fifty sen a day. For a room or set of rooms better furnished than usual the charge may be three to five yen, and of course only aristocratic priests can afford to hire such rooms. The lodging of the priests is somewhat exclusive, and they are forbidden to stay at houses selling liquors, or containing many females.
During this season, besides the Festival Commissioners who are the Lama sharks of the year, a special office for supervising priests, called Khamtsan-gi Giken, is created, commissioned with the duty of controlling the conduct of the priests. Quarrels are, however, very rare during the season, though from the ordinary behavior of priests they might naturally be expected to occasion such troubles. At any rate the priests maintain decorum externally. They are expected to attend the three services performed each day, and they are not allowed to attend the ceremony at their own temples, even when those temples are situated near the city. They must live in the city, and remain there, unless under exceptional circumstances, such as illness. The attendance at the three services is not compulsory, yet it is very rarely neglected, for a distribution of gifts is very often made at each service.
THE FINAL CEREMONY OF THE MONLAM.
On January 15th, according to the lunar calendar, the most magnificent ceremony is carried out at night. The offerings are arranged around the Buḍḍha’s Hall, and the most conspicuous object among them is a triangular wooden frame with sharp apex, the structure measuring about forty feet high and thirty feet long at the base. Two dragons in an ascending position are fixed to the two sides, while about the middle of the frame the “Enchanted Garden” is represented, peopled either with figures of the Buḍḍha teaching human beings or of Princes and other important dignitaries. These figures are all made of butter. Besides human figures there are figures of several of the alleged birds of paradise, such as are mentioned in Buḍḍhist books. All these are of Tibetan workmanship, and creditably executed, probably as a result of long experience. I should add that the butter figures are all finely painted and even gilded, and as the butter takes color easily the effect produced is very splendid, when those highly decorated and painted figures are seen by the light of butter-lamps or torches that are burning at a suitable distance from the figures. There must be as many as a hundred and twenty such ornamental structures around the Hall, while the lamps and torches that are burning are quite countless. Indeed, it seemed to me as if some gorgeous scene such as we imagine to exist only in Heaven had been transplanted to earth on that particular occasion. To the Tibetans the scene as exhibited on this particular night marks the high-water level of all that is splendid in this world, and it is therefore quoted as an ideal standard in speaking of anything that is uncommonly magnificent.
This offering ceremony concludes at about two o’clock the following morning, and two hours later the decorated figures are removed, for they are in danger of being melted when exposed to the rays of the sun. The ceremony, it must be remembered, is attended only by a limited number of priests, probably three hundred at the utmost out of the twenty-five thousand who are present in the city to attend the Monlam festival. The privilege of inspecting this yearly show is therefore regarded as a great honor by the Tibetan priests.
The reason why this magnificent display is denied to the inspection of the majority of priests and to the whole of the populace is because formerly, when it was open to universal inspection, uncontrollable commotion attended by casualties used to mar the function. And so the authorities decided about thirty years ago to perform it in this semi-private manner.
The ceremony begins at about eight in the evening and closes, as before mentioned, at about four the following morning. The function is sometimes inspected by the Dalai Lama, while at other times he does not come, as was the case when I had the good fortune to witness it in the company of the ex-Finance Minister. The Amban however does not omit to attend the ceremony. He was attired in the gorgeous official garments of China, and sat in a carriage lit up inside with twenty-four tussore silk lanterns in which were burning foreign-made candles. On his head he wore the official cap befitting his rank. The procession was preceded by a cavalcade of Chinese officers also in their gala dresses, and behind the carriage followed another train of mounted guards. It was really a fine scene, this procession of the Chinese Amban as it passed through the streets lit up with tens of thousands of butter-lamps; only I thought that the sight was too showy and that it lacked the element of solemnity.