According to some of these authorities, Tashi Lunpo is situated about 140 English miles in a nearly westerly direction from Lhāssa. It is built on a level plain enclosed on all sides by rocky hills, through which a small river (the Painam) rushes into the great Tsanpo (Brahma-putra). The monastery is said to have been built by the first Dalai Lāma, Gedun grub pa, in 1445 (see [p. 291] of these Lectures), though the final seat of the Dalai Lāmas was at Lhāssa.
According to Koeppen four roads meet at Tashi Lunpo; one leading to Lhāssa, one to Ladāk, one to Nepāl, and one to Bhutān.
Near at hand, on the north-east side of the Tashi Lunpo monastery, on a rocky eminence protecting it from the cold winds, stands the fort of Shigatse (also written Shigatze), which, with its surrounding houses, forms the capital of the province of Tsang, just as Lhāssa constitutes that of the province of U.
Our fellow countryman, Mr. Bogle, commissioned by Warren Hastings to open communications between Bengal and Tibet, arrived at Tashi Lunpo in 1774. His description of it is to the following effect. I give it abbreviated (from Mr. Clements Markham’s Tibet):—
We passed by the foot of Tashi Lunpo, which is built on the lower declivity of a steep hill. The roof of the palace is all of copper-gilt. The building is of dark-coloured brick. The houses of the town rise one above another. Four churches with gilt ornaments are mixed with them. Altogether the town presents a princely appearance. Many of the courts are spacious, flagged with stone, and have galleries running round them. The alleys, which are likewise paved, are narrow. The palace is appropriated to the Lāma and his officers, to temples, granaries, warehouses, etc. The rest of the town is entirely inhabited by priests, who are in number about four thousand.
The following is the substance of Mr. Bogle’s account of his interview with the Tashi Lāma on November 8, 1774 (abbreviated from Markham’s Tibet):—
In the afternoon I had my first audience of the Tashi Lāma. He is about forty years of age, of low stature, and inclining to be fat. His complexion is fairer than that of most Tibetans, and his arms are as white as those of a European; his hair, which is jet black, is cut very short; his eyes are small and black. The expression of his countenance is smiling and good-humoured. He was upon his throne, formed of wood carved and gilt, with some cushions above it, upon which he sat with his legs folded under him. He was dressed in a mitre-shaped cap of yellow broadcloth, with long bars lined with red satin, a yellow cloth jacket without sleeves, and a satin mantle of the same colour thrown over his shoulders. On one side of him stood his physician, with a bundle of perfumed sandal-wood rods burning in his hand; on the other stood his cup-bearer. I laid the Governor’s presents before him, delivering the letter and the pearl necklace into his own hands, together with a white handkerchief on my own part, according to the custom of the country. He received me in the most engaging manner. I was seated on a high stool covered with a carpet. Plates of boiled mutton, boiled rice, dried fruits, sweetmeats, sugar, bundles of tea, dried sheep’s carcases, etc., were set before me and my companion, Mr. Hamilton. The Lāma drank two or three dishes of tea with us, but without saying any grace, asked us once or twice to eat, and on our retiring threw white handkerchiefs over our necks. After two or three visits, he used to receive me without any ceremony, his head uncovered, and dressed only in the large red petticoat worn by all full monks, red boots, a yellow cloth vest, with his arms bare, and a piece of coarse yellow cloth thrown across his shoulders. He sat sometimes in a chair, sometimes on a bench covered with tiger-skins, and nobody but the cup-bearer present. Sometimes he would walk with me about the room, explain the pictures, or make some remarks upon the colour of my eyes, etc. For, although venerated as God’s vicegerent through all the eastern countries of Asia, and endowed with a portion of omniscience and with many other divine attributes, he throws aside in conversation all the awful part of his character, accommodates himself to the weakness of mortals, endeavours to make himself loved rather than feared, and behaves with the greatest affability to everybody, particularly to strangers.
In 1783, when Tashi Lunpo was visited by Captain Turner, the monastery consisted of 400 houses, many of which were built of stone and marble, and at least two stories high. They contained about 3700 monks (now 3800). Around the houses were gilded temples, pinnacles, pyramidal monuments (Stūpas), and above all the palace of the Tashi Lāma, forming a striking spectacle.
Captain Turner had a remarkable interview with the Grand Lāma at the neighbouring monastery of Terpaling, on December 4, 1783. He found the princely child, then aged eighteen months, seated on a throne, with his father and mother standing on the left hand. Having been informed that, although unable to speak, he could understand, Captain Turner intimated to him ‘that the Governor-General, on receiving news of his decease, had been overwhelmed with sorrow, and continued to lament his absence from the world until the cloud was dispelled by his re-appearance. The Governor hoped that he might long continue to illumine the world by his presence.’
The infant looked steadfastly at the British envoy, and appeared to be listening to his words with deep attention, while he repeatedly nodded his head, as if he understood every syllable. He was silent and sedate, and conducted himself with astonishing dignity. Captain Turner thought him one of the handsomest children he had ever seen. It seems that he grew up to be an able and devout ruler, gratifying the Tibetans by his presence for many years, and living to a good old age.