Last of all slowly marched forth the procession of the Ganden Ti Rinpoche. I saw him under a capacious and highly decorated awning which is the same sort of umbrella as that of the Grand Lama. He was attired in the ceremonial robe befitting his rank of Ti Rinpoche. His appearance was highly impressive and even those priests who had viewed the oracle-mongers with well-deserved scorn were seen in attitudes of sincere respect. That was also my sentiment as my eyes met him; for he truly impressed me as a living Buḍḍha. To the Ti Rinpoche was entrusted the most important function in this ceremony, the hurling of the sacred sword in order to avert any evil spirits that may obstruct the prosperous reign of the Chinese Emperor. With this sword-hurling the ceremony was brought to a close.
Though in principle this ceremony concludes the Monlam, in practice it comes to an end only on the following morning and with a custom of practical utility—that of carrying stones to the banks of the river Kichu which flows by Lhasa, and is often liable to overflow and flood the city. The stones required for this purpose are brought by the country people, and are sold at ten or twenty sen a piece, and each priest or citizen who attends the ceremony buys one or two such stones and conveys them to the banks either on his own back or by hired carriers. The stones thus conveyed to the banks are supposed to possess the effect of atoning for their sins. The banks must acquire great strength in consequence of this stone-piling.
[CHAPTER LXXVI.]
The Tibetan Soldiery.
The standing army of Tibet is said to consist of five thousand men, but from my own observation I think this number somewhat exaggerated. In any case, it is hardly sufficient to protect a country containing six millions of inhabitants against foreign invasion and civil commotion. However, in Tibet social order is not kept by soldiers, nor by the despotic power of the ruler. Religion is the force that keeps the country in good order. The mass of the people would never take arms against the Pope whom they believe to be a living Buḍḍha. This idea is so thoroughly infused into them that there have been really very few cases of rebellion in Tibet, hence there is no necessity for a great number of soldiers. The history of the country testifies that civil commotions take place only when the chief Lama has died, and the new master is too young to take up the Government for himself, and so leaves the entire business to the Agent and Ministers, who abuse their power, or when the regent tyrannises over and offends the people. But when the master is old enough to manage the affairs of the country he is revered as a living Buḍḍha, against whom no one protests. Minor difficulties may arise, but they are easily settled without recourse to arms. The real causes that have made Tibet feel the necessity of having a standing army have been her two quarrels with Nepāl and one with British India. Since then Tibet has ever had a regular army, distributed as follows: at Lhasa one thousand men, at Shigatze two thousand, at Tingri, an important fort on the Nepāl frontier, nominally five hundred but possibly only three hundred (there are several hundred Chinese soldiers here), five hundred at Gyantze, five hundred at Dam, and another five hundred at Mankham, making five thousand in all. The Chinese soldiers stationed in the country number two thousand altogether, and are distributed equally at the four places—Lhasa, Tingri, Shigatze, and Tomo. Every five hundred Tibetan soldiers are under a chief called De Bon. The lower officers are one for every two hundred and fifty, one for every twenty-five and one for every five.
The Tibetan soldiers receive only one bushel of barley a month as salary. They have no regular barracks to live in together, but live in ordinary residences which, however, are built at the cost of the citizens. They are scattered throughout the city, and keep stores or carry on any kind of trade, as do the common people. They are obliged to do some kind of work, for they cannot keep their wives and children on the one bushel of barley a month. But they are free from house-rent, and I have often heard the citizens complain of the burden of building houses for the soldiers. The Chinese soldiers also live in ordinary houses like the Tibetans, and are exempt from rent.
In return for his paltry remuneration, the Tibetan soldier has to be drilled four or five times a month, and to be present at the great manœuvres once a year. The manœuvres are held in the vicinity of a little village called Dabchi, which lies about two miles north of Lhasa on the road leading to the Sera monastery. In the village there is a shrine of Kwanti (a Chinese war-God) whom the Tibetans call Gesergi Gyalpo (saffron king), and who is much revered as a God for driving away evil spirits, though the Chinese settlers form the greater proportion of his actual worshippers. Close by there is another temple called by the name of the village, in which live priests who take the services at the Kwanti shrine. Many objects of interest are kept in the shrine, but the most curious things are the images of blue demons, red demons, and other inhabitants of hell, all arranged as if they were retainers of Kwanti. North of this shrine there is a high mound about one furlong square, with an arsenal standing in the centre. Thence spreads a vast plain five miles to the north, half a mile to the west and five miles to the east. This is the scene of the great parade. Soldiers are summoned from all parts of the country to attend the parade, which is usually held towards the end of September or the beginning of October, when the barley harvest is over, and the crops safely out of harm’s way. The first two days are reserved for the Chinese soldiers and the following two for the Tibetan. The review is honored by the presence of the Amban and of the higher Tibetan officers, who give prizes in money ranging from fifty cents to five dollars, or silver medals, to any soldiers who have displayed notable ability. In Tibet archery is still considered an essential art of warriors, yet artillery has recently been introduced, and is taught by Chinese officers or by Tibetans who have been educated in India. The Tibetan artillery does not amount to much.
My own observations lead me to suspect the valor of the Chinese and Tibetan soldiers, and I doubt whether they can claim to have any more strength than the ordinary citizens. Among the Chinese soldiers pale countenances are very common, and though the Tibetan soldiers look stouter, in courage I can see no difference. The cause of their insignificance is to be traced to the difficulty they have in living upon their small pay. The warrior-priests are far more soldier-like than the regular soldiers; they have no wives nor children to take care of, and have therefore nothing to fear. They are indeed far more estimable than the professional soldiers, whose first business in time of war is to plunder the natives instead of serving the country. This is all because the soldiers have families, a fact which in my opinion is the greatest hindrance to warlike purposes. The Tibetans are emotional by nature, and out of such people, especially when they also have to support families, it is no easy task to make a brave army.
One exception must be made—the people of Kham. Outwardly wild, they are natural soldiers. In this district all the inhabitants, not excluding the women, may be called fighters. Their usual vocations are trading, farming, and cattle-raising, but their favorite profession is robbery. This is the business most admired by all; they deem it a great honor to defeat other tribes and kill as many foes as they can. In Kham they have robber-songs as we have war-songs: songs in which the people take much delight, even the children singing the lively airs to which they are fitted; and as there are no war-songs in Tibet the robber-songs of Kham are substituted for them. Here is one:
1.