Just as we were going to bed, two horsemen, having belts adorned with bells, came into the courtyard of the inn; they stopped for a few minutes, and then set off again at full gallop. We were informed that it was the courier-extraordinary, bearing dispatches from the ambassador Ki-Chan to Peking. He had quitted Lha-Ssa only six days before, so that he had already travelled more than 2,000 lis (200 leagues). Ordinarily, the dispatches only occupy thirty days between Lha-Ssa and Peking. This speed will, doubtless, seem in no way prodigious when compared with that of the couriers of Europe; but, making allowance for the excessive difficulties of the journey, it will perhaps be considered surprising. The express couriers, who carry the mails in Thibet, travel day and night; they always go in twos, a Chinese soldier and a Thibetian guide. At about every hundred lis, they find on the road a change of horses, but the men are not relieved so often. These couriers travel fastened to their saddles by straps; they are in the habit of observing a day of rigorous fast before mounting their horses, and
all the time they are on duty, they content themselves with swallowing two raw eggs at every stage. The men who perform this arduous labour rarely attain an advanced age; many of them fall into the abysses or remain buried in the snow. Those who escape the perils of the road fall victims to the diseases which they readily contract in these dreadful regions. We have never been able to conceive how these couriers travelled by night among these mountains of Thibet, where almost at every step you find frightful precipices.
You see at Chobando two Buddhic monasteries, where numerous Lamas reside, belonging to the sect of the Yellow Cap. In one of these monasteries there is a great printing press, which furnishes sacred books to the Lamaseries of the province of Kham.
From Chobando, after two long and arduous days’ march, in the turnings and windings of the mountains, and through immense forests of pine and holly, you reach Kia-Yu-Kiao. This village is built on the rugged banks of the river Souk-Tchou, which flows between two mountains, and the waters of which are wide, deep, and rapid. On our arrival we found the inhabitants of Kia-Yu-Kiao in a state of profound grief. Not long before, a large wooden bridge, thrown over the river, had broken down, and two men and three oxen who were upon it at the time perished in the waters. We could still see the remains of this bridge, built of large trunks of trees; the wood, completely rotten, showed that the bridge had fallen from decay. At sight of these sad ruins, we thanked Providence for having kept us three days on the other side of the mountain of Tanda. If we had arrived at Kia-Yu-Kiao before the fall of the bridge, it would probably have sunk under the weight of the caravan.
Contrary to our expectation, this accident caused us no delay. The Dheba of the place hastened to construct a raft; and on the morrow we were able, at daybreak, to resume our march. The men, baggage, and saddles crossed the river on the raft, the animals swimming.
Thirty lis from Kia-Yu-Kiao, we came to a wooden bridge, suspended over a frightful precipice. Having our imaginations still full of the accident at Kia-Yu-Kiao, we felt, at sight of this perilous pass, a cold shudder of terror pervade all our limbs. As a matter of precaution, we made the animals pass first, one after the other; the bridge trembled and shook under them, but held firm; the men went next. They advanced gently on their toes, making themselves as light as possible. All passed safely, and the caravan proceeded again in its usual order. After having surmounted a rocky and precipitous hill, at the foot of which roared an impetuous torrent, we stayed for the night at Wa-Ho-Tchai, a station composed of a barracks, small Chinese temple, and three or four Thibetian huts.
Immediately after our arrival the snow began to fall in great flakes. In any other place, such weather would have been merely disagreeable; at Wa-Ho-Tchai, it was calamitous. We had next day to travel a stage of 150 lis, on a plateau famous throughout Thibet. The Itinerary gave us the following details as to this route: “On the mountain Wa-Ho, there is a lake. That people may not lose themselves in the thick fogs which prevail here, there have been fixed on the heights wooden signals. When the mountain is covered with deep snow you are guided by these signals; but you must take care not to make a noise; you must abstain from even uttering a word, otherwise the ice and snow will fall upon you in abundance, and with astonishing rapidity. Throughout the mountain you find neither beast nor bird, for it is frozen during the four seasons of the year. On its sides, and within 100 lis distance there is no dwelling. Many Chinese soldiers and Thibetians die there of cold.”
The soldiers of the garrison of Wa-Ho-Tchai, finding that the weather seemed really made up for snow, opened the gates of the little pagoda, and lighted a number of small red candles in front of a formidable-looking idol, brandishing a sword in its right hand, and holding in the other a bow and a bundle of arrows. They then struck, with repeated blows, on a small tam-tam, and executed a flourish on a tambourine. Ly-Kouo-Ngan assumed his official costume, and went to prostrate himself before the idol. On his return we asked in whose honour this pagoda had been raised. “It is the pagoda of Kiang-Kian [264] Mao-Ling.” “And what did Kiang-Kian do, that he is thus honoured?” “Oh, I see that you are ignorant of these events of times gone by. I will tell you about him. In the reign of Khang-Hi the empire was at war with Thibet. Mao-Ling was sent against the rebels in the rank of generalissimo. Just as he was going to pass the mountain Wa-Ho, with a body of 4,000 men, some of the people of the locality who acted as guides, warned him that every one, in crossing the mountain, must observe silence, under penalty of being buried beneath the snow. Kiang-Kian issued forthwith an edict to his soldiers, and the army proceeded in the most profound silence. As the mountain was too long for the soldiers, laden with baggage, to cross it in a single day, they encamped on the plateau. Conformably with the established rule in large towns of the empire, and of camps in time of war, as soon as it was night they fired off a cannon, Mao-Ling
not daring to infringe this rule of military discipline. The report of the cannon had scarcely subsided, when enormous blocks of snow came pouring down from the sky upon the mountain. Kiang-Kian and all his men were buried beneath the fall, and no one has ever since discovered their bodies. The only persons saved were the cook and three servants of Kiang-Kian, who had gone on before, and arrived that same day in the village where we are. The Emperor Khang-Hi created Kiang-Kian Mao-Ling tutelary genius of the mountain Wa-Ho, and had this pagoda erected to him, on the condition of protecting travellers from the snow.”
Ly-Kouo-Ngan, having finished his story, we asked him who was the potent being that sent down these terrible masses of snow, ice, and hail, when any one presumed to make a noise in crossing the mountain Wa-Ho? “Oh, that is perfectly clear,” answered he; “it is the Spirit of the Mountain, the Hia-Ma-Tching-Chin” (the deified toad). “A deified toad!” “Oh, yes; you know that on the top of Wa-Ho there is a lake.” “We have just read so in the Itinerary.” “Well, on the borders of this lake there is a great toad. You can scarcely ever see him, but you often hear him croaking 100 lis round. This toad has dwelt on the borders of the lake since the existence of heaven and earth. As he has never quitted this solitary spot, he has been deified, and has become the Spirit of the Mountain. When any one makes a noise and disturbs the silence of his retreat, he becomes exasperated against him, and punishes him by overwhelming him with hail and snow.” “You seem to speak quite in earnest; do you think that a toad can be deified and become a spirit?” “Why not, if he makes a point every night of worshipping the Great Bear?” When Ly-Kouo-Ngan came to his singular system of the Great Bear, it was futile to reason with him. We contented ourselves with smiling at him and holding our tongues. “Ah!” said he, “you laugh at me because I speak of the Seven Stars; and, indeed, as you do not believe in their influence, it is wrong in me to speak to you of them. I ought merely to have told you that the toad of Wa-Ho was deified, because he had always lived in solitude, on a wild mountain, inaccessible to the foot of man. Is it not the passions of men that pervert all the beings of the creation, and prevent them from attaining perfection? Would not animals in the course of time become spirits if they did not breathe an air poisoned by the presence of man?” This argument seeming to us somewhat more philosophical than the first, we vouchsafed the honour of a serious answer. Ly-Kouo-Ngan, who possessed a fair judgment, when he was not confused with this Great Bear, doubted at length the power of the deified toad, and the protection of Kiang-Kian Mao-Ling.