In 1875, a year after the death of the Dalai lama Tinle-gyatso, the regent and the College of Cardinals consulted the celebrated Nachung Chos-gyong oracle[31] about the Dalai’s reappearance, and the oracle declared that the reincarnation could only be discovered by a monk of the purest morals. It required, again, the supernatural powers of the oracle to find the future discoverer of the Grand Lama; he was the Shar-tse Khanpo of Gadan, a lama of great saintliness and profound knowledge. The oracle further stated that he should [[161]]go to Choskhor-gya, as the reincarnation was to be found somewhere near Kong-po.[32] The Khanpo went there accordingly, and sat in deep meditation for seven days, when, on the night of the last day, he had a vision and heard a voice which directed him to repair to the Mu-li-ding-ki tso (lake) of Choskhor. Awakening from his sleep, the Khanpo went to the lake, where, on the crystal surface of the water, he saw the image of the incarnate Grand Lama seated in his mother’s lap, and his father fondling him. The house, its furniture, all was shown him. Suddenly the image disappeared, and he set out at once for Kong-po. On the way he stopped in Tag-po at the house of a respectable and wealthy family, and at once he recognized the child and all the images seen in his dream. He promptly informed the Government at Lhasa, and the regent and the cardinals came to Tag-po and took the child, then a year old, and its parents to the Rigyal palace, near Lhasa. This child, now aged ten, is called Nag-wang lo-zang tubdan gya-tso “the Lord of speech, the mighty ocean of wisdom.”[33]
The reason why the golden jar was not used for finding this reincarnation was because of the apprehension that the Dayan Khanpo’s spirit—he had but recently died, and had been violently opposed to the Dalai lamas and their form of government—might be able to cause a wrong name to be drawn from the jar.
June 5.—Early this morning I was invited to dine with the Lhacham at Bangye-shag. I was received most graciously, and was led by the Lhacham to her drawing-room, a room about 16 feet by 12, facing the south and on the third story of the building. There were in it two Chinese chests of drawers, on top of which were a lot of porcelain cups; Chinese pictures—picnics and dancing most of them represented—covered the greater part of the walls; the ceiling was of Chinese satin, and thick rugs of Yarkand and Tibetan make covered the floor. Well-polished little tables, wooden bowls for tsamba, and some satin-covered cushions completed the furniture of the room. [[162]]
After conversing for a while and drinking a few cups of tea, the Lhacham withdrew, and one of her maids showed me the rooms in the mansion. The furniture was much the same as that in the Lhacham’s room, only of inferior quality and ruder make. The walls were painted green and blue, with here and there pictures of processions of gods and demons, and the beams of the ceiling were carved and painted. The doors were very roughly made and without panels; the windows were covered with paper, with a very small pane of glass fitted in the middle of each. There were no chimneys in any of the rooms, but earthenware stoves, or jala. In a few of the rooms flowers were growing in pots.
Returning to the Lhacham’s room, dinner was served me at noon, and while I ate she asked me many questions concerning the marriage laws of India and Europe. When I told her that in India a husband had several wives, and that among the Phyling[34] a man had but one wife, she stared at me with undisguised astonishment. “One wife with one husband!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you think we Tibetan women are better off? The Indian wife has but a portion of her husband’s affections and property, but in Tibet the housewife is the real lady of all the joint earnings and inheritance of all the brothers sprung from the same mother, who are all of the same flesh and blood. The brothers are but one, though their souls are several. In India a man marries well several women who are strangers to each other.” “Am I to understand that your ladyship would like to see several sisters marry one husband?” I asked. “That is not the point,” replied the Lhacham. “What I contend is that Tibetan women are happier than Indian ones, for they enjoy the privileges conceded in the latter country to the men.”[35]
June 7.—My two men had heard from Gadan Tipa, a soothsayer, that they would be stricken with small-pox if they ventured to go to Samye, and they besought me to give up the idea; but I declared emphatically my resolve to visit that famous lamasery, and also that of Gadan. [[163]]
On June 8 I again visited the Jo khang. The numerous wooden pillars supporting the second story are among the most remarkable things in this temple. The largest of these have capitals with sculptured foliage, and are called ka-wa shing-lho chan.[36] At their base are buried, it is said, great treasures of gold and silver. Other pillars, with dragon-heads as capitals, have hidden under them charms against devils, for curing diseases, and for keeping off and thwarting the evil designs of the enemies of Buddhism and of the government of the church. Other pillars, again, called seng go-chan, “having lions’ heads as capitals,” have concealed under them many potent charms (yang-yig)[37] to insure bounteous crops.
Under the floor of the Lu-khang are many charms and precious things wrapped in snow-fox or snake-skin. These, it is supposed, preserve the flocks and herds of Tibet. Beneath the image of Dsambhala is hidden in an onyx box some tag-sha,[38] which preserves the precious stones, the wool, the grain, and the other riches of the country.
Among the other objects of special sanctity, I was shown in the passage for circumambulating the temple a cavity in the rock where neither moss nor grass grow; it is said to keep back the waters of the Kyi chu from invading the Jo khang.[39]
June 9.—I went out walking to-day in the direction of Ramoche. On the streets I met numerous bands of ragyabas, or scavengers, wandering from place to place, clamouring for alms from every new-comer or pilgrim they saw. If no attention is paid to them, they thrust their dirty hats in the stranger’s face and lavish insults on him; and if he take offence, they reply, “Why, my lord, this is not insolence; we are but saluting you!”