The image was thus brought into the country by the Princess at the same time as Buḍḍhism itself. It was soon found necessary to preach a new form of Buḍḍhism and to invent new characters in which to write its teachings. So learned men, sixteen in number, were sent to India to study Buḍḍhism, and to invent new characters. Consequently, new Tibetan letters were formed, and Buḍḍhist doctrines were translated into Tibetan. Budḍḍhism was thus taught for over thirteen centuries, to the great advantage both of Tibet and of Buḍḍhism. This image of Buḍḍha was not originally carved in China, but was made by a Buḍḍhist sculptor, Vishvakarma by name, in India, whence it was introduced into Tibet through China. When I lifted up my thanks before this image of Buḍḍha for my safe arrival in Tibet, I could not help shedding tears over the goodness of Buḍḍha, which enabled me to see His image at this temple as well as at Buḍḍhagayā in India. I need not say, for the whole story shows it, how great is my faith in Buḍḍha. I do not mean that I do not respect other Buḍḍhist deities; still Buḍḍha claims the greatest worship from me, and I have entirely given myself up to Him and His religion.
There are many cheap inns and hotels in Lhasa, but as I had been informed that they were not respectable, I desired to stay with a friend, a son of the premier of Tibet. While at Darjeeling I had become acquainted with this young noble, and he had offered me a lodging during my stay in Lhasa. I liked him, and did many things for him, and now, though I did not mean to demand a return for what I had done for him, I had no alternative but to go to him. So I called at his house. It was known as Bandesha—a magnificent mansion on a plot of about three hundred and sixty feet square. I entered the house and asked if he was in, but heard that my friend had become a lunatic. They told me that he had gone out of his mind two years before, and that he went mad at regular periods. I learned that he was staying at his brother’s villa at Namsailing, and was obliged to go there for him, but there also I could not find him, and was told the same thing. I waited there for over two hours, as I was told he might come, and then I reflected that it would be of no use for me to see a madman, on whom I could not depend, so I made up my mind to direct my steps to the Sera monastery, for I thought it would be better for me to be temporarily admitted in the college, and then to pass the regular entrance examinations. So I at once hired a coolie to carry my baggage, and started for the monastery.
Like the Rebung monastery, it was built on the slope of a hill, and when seen from a distance looked like a village. Guided by the coolie, I arrived at the monastery at four o’clock and at once called at the dormitory of Pituk Khamtsan, giving myself out as a Tibetan, as I came from Jangthang. Hitherto I had passed for a Chinaman, but as such I should have had to go to Pate Khamtsan, where I feared I might be detected. I had not trimmed my hair nor shaved my face, nor bathed for a long time, and I cannot have been much cleaner than a Tibetan, so I made up my mind to pass for one and to live among them. The examinations for a Tibetan might be too difficult for me; still I could command the Tibetan language almost as well as a native, and I was often treated as one. I thought, therefore, that I could pass without detection, and so for my own safety I entered the monastery in this guise. The dormitory is occupied by several priests, who in turn, by the year, take the charge of the house. The then head of the dormitory was a very kind and simple old man, called La-toe-pa, and when I told him about my desire to obtain temporary admission, he gave me every particular as to what to do.
Before I go any further in my narrative, I must say something briefly about the Sera college. It is divided into three departments—Je-Ta-tsang, Maye Ta-tsang, and Ngakpa Ta-tsang. The first department contains 3,800 priests, the second 2,500 and the third five hundred. The former two departments have eighteen dormitories, named Khamtsan. They differ in size, for the small ones have about fifty priests in them, while there are over a thousand priests in the largest ones. There were two hundred priests in the house at which I stayed. Each Khamtsan has its own property, and all the Khamtsans as a whole are called Sera. These are the largest divisions of the monastery, but I will not enter into the sub-divisions.
[CHAPTER XLVI.]
The Warrior-Priests of Sera.
In Tibet there are two classes of priests, scholar-priests and warrior-priests, who in Tibetan are called Lob-nyer and Thab-to respectively. The former class of priests come to Sera, as their name shows, with the purpose of study, at an expense of three yen or, if they take the regular course, of eight yen a month. They graduate from the college after a study of twenty years, during which time their special study is the Buḍḍhist Catechism and philosophy, the principal course of the Sera college. As they come to the college after they have finished the study of the regular courses, most of them are from thirty to thirty-five or thirty-six years of age when they graduate, though a few clever priests receive the decree of doctor at the age of twenty-eight years.
The warrior-priests have no money to pay for a course of study in the college. They earn their way by gathering yak-dung from the fields or by carrying from the bank of the river Kichu to the monastery wood which has been brought in boats from Sam-ya-e or Kongbo. Then they serve the scholar-priests as their servants. It is also among their daily tasks to play flutes, lyres, harps, flageolets, to beat drums, and to prepare offerings for the deities. The above tasks may not be too humble for a low class of priests, but the warrior-priests have another strange daily task to do by which they deserve their strange name. Every day they repair to certain hills and practise throwing large stones at a target, and thus test their muscles. They jump, run up mountains, or leap down from high rocks. At intervals they sing popular songs as loudly as they can, for they are proud of their good voices. Then they practise fighting with clubs. When they have no fixed task in the temple, they are seen going by threes or fives to their respective places of practice. The reader may wonder of what use these priests are in Tibet, and will perhaps be surprised to know that they are of great use. When, for instance, the higher class Lamas travel in the northern plains or in some remote district, they take these priests as their body guards. They are very daring. Having no wives to look after, they meet death calmly. So invincible and implacable are these fighting priests that they are the most feared of any in Tibet. They are very quarrelsome, too, though they rarely fall out with one another without some serious provocation. They scarcely ever fight for a pecuniary matter, but the beauty of young boys presents an exciting cause, and the theft of a boy will often lead to a duel. Once challenged, no priest can honorably avoid the duel, for to shun it would instantly excommunicate him from among his fellow-priests and he would be driven out of the temple. There are chiefs among the warrior-priests, and they have rules of their own, with officers to see them well carried out. This is an open secret, and the warrior-priests are therefore allowed sometimes to do things quite unbecoming to priests or anybody else. When any grave matter occurs, the chiefs are often ordered to attend to it with the other warrior-priests.
A duel being agreed upon, both the fighters go to the appointed place, mostly in the evening. They fight each other with swords while the umpires judge their way of fighting. If either of the combatants does anything cowardly or mean, the umpire leaves the fighters to themselves, till one or the other is killed. If both fight bravely till they are wounded, the umpire bids them stop fighting. He tells them to make peace, and takes them to Lhasa, where they make friends over a cup of chang (beer or wine). The use of all intoxicants being strictly prohibited in the Sera monastery, many warrior-priests, when they go to Lhasa, take the opportunity of drinking much of them, and under that influence they do many rude things.
One day, some one accidentally discovered that I was a doctor, and from that time I came to be paid undeserved respect by these priests. When they were wounded in their feet or hands during their practice they came to me for cure, and I was strangely successful with them. I think that half-civilised people are more easily cured of wounds than civilised people. A sprained arm was so easily set right, that the warrior-priests began to consider me to be a doctor indispensable among them. Besides, I scarcely ever took fees from them for their recovery, and I gave them medicine gratis, except when they offered me something in return and compelled me to accept it. This kindness won me their hearts. They saw that it often made them worse to go to a native doctor when they were wounded in a duel, while I treated their wounds, or set their bones, gratis and far better than their native doctors did. This pleased them so much that I became a great favorite among them. Everywhere I was greeted with the protruded tongue of salutation.