I asked him to come to Sweden, where I would be his guide. Then he smiled again: he would like to travel to Sweden and London, but high sacred duties kept him constantly fettered to the convent walls of Tashi-lunpo.
After tea and refreshments he walked about his room like an ordinary man, and asked me to get my camera ready. A yellow carpet was laid in the sunny part of the room, and a chair was placed on it. He did not, alas! wear his refined, charming smile when the three plates were exposed, but had a solemn look—perhaps he was considering whether it might not be dangerous to allow an unbeliever to take his portrait in the midst of his own cloister town (Illustration 146). A tall young lama with a pleasant countenance knew how to take photographs, and took a couple of portraits of me for the Tashi Lama. He had a dark room, where we could develop our plates—Lamaist temples are excellently adapted for dark rooms.
| 141. The Kitchen in Tashi-lunpo. |
| 142. Colonnade in Tashi-lunpo. Sketches by the Author. |
Then we resumed our seats, and the Tashi Lama inquired how I had liked the show of riders on the preceding day. I answered that I had never experienced such amusement. He had never attended these worldly spectacles, for he was always engaged in his religious duties on that day. Then he made a sign, and some monks brought in a gift of honour for me: two bundles of cerise-coloured woollen material, woven in Gyangtse; some pieces of gold-embroidered stuff from China; two copper bowls with silver edges, and a gilded saucer for a porcelain cup, with a cover to match. With his own hands he gave me a gilded image clothed in red and yellow silk, and a large light-yellow kadakh. The image he gave me, a seated Buddha with blue hair, a crown, and a bowl in the hands, from which a plant sprouts, he called Tsepagmed. This, according to Grünwedel, is the form of the Amitabha Buddha, called Amitayus, or “he who has an immeasurably long life.” It is significant that the Tashi Lama selected this particular image to give me, for he is himself an incarnation of Amitabha, and he is almighty. The figure of the Tsepagmed was therefore intended as a pledge that a long life was before me. This I did not understand at the time; it was only when I looked through Professor Grünwedel’s Mythologie that I grasped the significance of the present.
This time the audience lasted two and a half hours, and it was the last time I saw the Tashi Lama face to face; for afterwards all sorts of political complications arose which might have been dangerous to him—not to me—and I considered myself bound not to expose him to any annoyance through my visits, which might excite the suspicion of the Chinese. But it grieved me to stay near him for weeks, knowing that he saw every day my tent from his small cloister window, and yet not be able to visit and converse with him; for he was one of those rare, refined, and noble personalities who make other people feel that their lives are fuller and more precious. Yes, the memory of the Tashi Lama will cleave to me as long as I live. His friendship is sincere, his shield is spotless and bright, he seeks for the truth honestly and humbly, and knows that by a virtuous and conscientious life he renders himself a worthy temple for the soul of the mighty Amitabha.
The Tashi Lama was six years old when destiny called him to be the Pope of Tashi-lunpo, a dignity he has held nineteen years. He is said to have been born in Tagbo, in the Gongbo country. He, like the Pope, is a prisoner in the Tibetan Vatican in spite of his great religious influence, and leads a life prescribed by religious regulations, every day of the year having its particular ecclesiastical functions and occupations. For instance, on February 20, he must bow the knee before the graves of all his predecessors, accompanied by all the superior clergy. When I asked where he himself would be interred when it pleased Amitabha to be re-incarnated in a new Tashi Lama, I was told that a sepulchre would be erected for him as handsome as the others, and that a conclave of the higher priests would select the site. Either the sixth mausoleum will be erected on the west side of the others in a line with them, or a new row will be commenced in front of the former.
One day all my Lamaist followers were admitted to the presence of His Holiness. It was agreed beforehand that they should not pay more as temple offerings than three rupees per man. Of course I paid for them, and they afterwards assured me that the sacred blessing would benefit them during the rest of their lives.
I did not succeed in getting information as to the number of pilgrims who flock annually to Tashi-lunpo. When I made inquiries on the subject I was answered with a laugh, and the statement that they were so numerous it was quite impossible to count them. Pilgrims of rank and fortune make large contributions; others only a small silver coin, or a bag of tsamba or rice; and others again come in companies in the train of some well-to-do chief who pays for them all. If the concourse is too large, the blessing is imparted by the higher monks through laying on of hands; when the numbers are smaller, they receive the blessing from the Tashi Lama himself, not with the hand, but with a staff bound with yellow silk. He only blesses people of position and monks with his hand.
We saw laymen as well as clergy among the pilgrims. We have already seen the nuns forming a queue and waiting for the blessing. Four hundred nuns had come in from the neighbouring convents. During their stay they receive free lodging in the Chini-chikang, a building in Tashi-lunpo, free board, and a small present of money at their departure. They do not appear every year, but this year they arrived on the second day of the festival and departed on February 18.
We also saw novices from other monasteries, who are regaled with tea at stated times; but they must be content to sit on the ground in front of the kitchen, where they fill the narrow lane, so that it is difficult to get past.