# Sikhim and Bhutan/Chapter 14

CHAPTER XIV
MY FIRST MISSION TO BHUTAN—continued
From Tashi-cho-jong to Tongsa-jong. Simtoka-jong. Entry into Poonakha. The Deb Raja. Presentation of K.C.I.E. Description of Poonakha Fort. Expedition to Norbugang and Talo Monasteries. Visit of the Tango Lama. So-na-ga-sa the Zemri-gatchie of Turner. Farewell visit to the Deb. Angdu-phodang. Death of my dog Nari. The Pele-la. Tongsa-jong. Bad roads. Water-power prayer-wheels. The ceremony of blessing the rice-fields.
We left Tashi-cho-jong early next morning in lovely weather, with the thunder of a salute of thirty guns reverberating through the air, and soon arrived at Simtoka-jong, which is situated on a projecting ridge, with deep gullies separating it from the main hill. It looks old, and is not in very good repair. On the four sides of the central square tower, instead of the usual row of prayer-wheels, we found a row of square slabs of dark slate, carved in low relief with pictures of saints and holy men. It was a wonderful collection of different types, with no monotonous repetition of the same figure, whence derived I cannot imagine, unless, indeed, of Chinese origin, as the variety reminded me of the 1000 statues in the temple in Canton, where one figure is pointed out as Marco Polo. In Simtoka one face is a very unflattering likeness of the German Emperor. In the chapel itself, beneath a magnificent carved canopy, was one of the finest bronze images of Buddha that I have seen; it was supported on either side by a number of standing figures of more than life size.
​From Simtoka a good road led us up the Lhung-tso Valley to the Dokyong-la (9570 feet), through beautiful glades of oak, chestnut, and rhododendron, while on the higher slopes forests of Pinus excelsa reappeared, in pleasant contrast to the barren slopes of the past two days. But on reaching the east side of the pass we seemed suddenly to come into a completely changed climate, and the valley we were entering might have been in Sikhim, not Bhutan. It was evidently a wet zone, and with a very bad path leading to our camp at Lungme-tsa-wa, we were glad when our march was over.
Next day we continued our descent down a steepish lane overhung by rhododendrons in full bloom, until we reached a bridge across the Teo-pe-rong-chhu. After crossing we gradually ascended a fair road on the side of hills quite different from those on the opposite side, sparsely clothed with Pinus longifolia, and a remarkable contrast to the flowering thickets on the way down. High above us were the monasteries of Norbugang and Ta-lo, and after rounding a ridge which parts the Mochu-Pochu from the Teo-pe-rong-chhu we again began to descend to our camp at Gang-chung-Dorona (5800 feet), the last before reaching Poonakha. Neither Poonakha nor Angdu-phodang were at any point visible.
It was in heavy rain next morning that we had to make our entry into the capital of Bhutan, along a road of heavy clay, on which it was almost impossible to keep one’s footing. Close by a choten built at the junction of two valleys, and commanding a most picturesque view of the castle, I was met by a curious collection of musicians, dancers, &c., in gay clothing, sadly out of keeping with the constant rain and mud. Preceded by them, we managed in time to reach the bridge across the Mo-chhu, and after a little pause to cross, under a salute of guns—fifty now instead of thirty—heartily glad to reach the shelter of our camp, where a wooden house of two rooms was prepared for us.
In the camp waiting to receive me were the Tongsa ​Penlop, the Thimbu and Poonakha Jongpens, Zung Donyer, and Deb Zimpon. The first three I had met in Tibet, and the last two at Buxa, They greeted me most cordially and condoled with me on the weather, making many inquiries about our journey and whether we had encountered much difficulty; then, in a short time, the rain having ceased, they took their departure and left us to settle down in our quarters. For myself a large, comfortable Swiss cottage tent had been pitched, and a smaller one, dyed blue, with an embroidered top, for Major Rennick, in addition to a very good cook-house and some ranges of fine mat-sheds, and these, with my own tents and camp equipage, provided us with a luxurious encampment. I also had a great compliment paid me, as the Deb Raja's band played in front of us all through the outer courtyard right into the camp, an honour not paid even to the Tongsa Penlop himself beyond the entrance to the bridge.
The next day I spent receiving visits of ceremony from the Tongsa, the head Ta-tshang lamas, and other officials, and in disposing of an accumulation of official work. Whilst paying my return visits to the Tongsa Penlop and the officers in the fort I also paid my respects to the Deb Raja, who received me in his private apartments with great cordiality, and thanked the Indian Government for having sent me on such a friendly visit to his little country, while hoping his people had obeyed his instructions to look after my comfort in every way.
The Deb Raja is a great recluse, and occupies himself entirely with the spiritual affairs of the country, although, owing to the failure to discover a reincarnation after the death of the late Dharma Raja, he holds both offices; but meanwhile all temporal affairs are managed entirely by the Tongsa Penlop and his council, while in the Deb Raja all spiritual power is vested.
In the afternoon I had a long interview with the Tongsa Penlop, who came to see me unofficially, and we discussed many matters, and amongst others the question of ​extradition. He informed me that Bhutan had lately made an arrangement with Tibet regarding refugees, who were not to be returned unless some crime was proved against them, although formerly either State was obliged to send back all refugees. The Penlop dined with us, and we arranged that the presentation of the insignia of his Knight Commandership should be made on the following morning in open Durbar, presided over by the Deb Raja himself.
Unfortunately, on the morning of the Durbar it rained heavily, but cleared up before the ceremony, which was held in the Palace of Poonakha in a large hall. As soon as we learnt that everything was in readiness we formed a small procession from the camp. Major Rennick and myself in full dress uniform, preceded by our escort under Subadar Jehandad Khan, 40th Pathans, and proceeded to the fort, where we were ushered with great ceremony into the Durbar Hall.
This is a fine, handsome room, with a wide balcony overlooking the river Po-chhu, and with a double row of pillars forming two aisles. The centre or nave, a wide space open to the lofty roof, was hung with a canopy of beautifully embroidered Chinese silk. Between the pillars were suspended chenzi and gyentsen hangings of brilliantly coloured silks, and behind the Tongsa Penlop’s seat a fine specimen of kuthang, or needlework picture, a form of embroidery in which the Bhutanese excel, and which compares favourably with anything I have seen in other parts of the world.
At the upper or north end of the room was the high altar and images always to be met with in Bhutanese chapels, and in front of this was a raised dais, piled with cushions, on which sat the Deb Raja, in a rich yellow silk stole over his red monastic dress, with the abbot of the Poonakha Ta-tshang lamas in ordinary canonicals on his left. To the right of the daïs was a line of four scarlet-covered chairs for myself, Major Rennick, Mr. Paul, and the Subadar, and in front of each chair was a small table ​with fruit and refreshments. Close behind us stood my orderlies with presents. On the opposite side of the nave, facing me, was a low daïs with a magnificent cushion of the richest salmon-coloured brocade, on which Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk sat, dressed in a handsome robe of dark blue Chinese silk, embroidered in gold with the Chinese character “Fu,” the sign emblematical of good luck. Below him were ranged the chairs of all the officials present, the Thimbu Jongpen, the Poonakha Jongpen, the Zung Donyer, and the Deb Zimpon. The Taka Penlop had come to Poonakha, but was too ill to leave his bed; the Paro Penlop was unable to travel owing to the state of his leg, and had made his excuses personally on my way through Paro and had sent a representative; and the office of the Angdu-phodang Jongpen had not been filled. In the aisles were double and treble rows of the chief Ta-tshang lamas, seated on white carpets, while four flagellants, carrying brass-bound batons of office and formidable double-thonged whips of rhinoceros-hide, walked up and down between the rows to maintain order. At the lower end, by which we had entered, were collected the subordinate officials of the court, standing, with my own escort formed up in front of them, facing the Deb at the lower end of the nave. It was altogether a brilliant and imposing scene.
After my party and the high officers of state, who had risen on my approach, had taken their seats there was a short pause for order and silence to be restored. I then rose and directed Rai Lobzang Chöden Sahib to read my short address in Tibetan, which I had purposely curtailed, as I foresaw that the Bhutanese portion of the ceremony would be a lengthy one. My remarks seemed to give general satisfaction, and at their conclusion I stepped forward, with Major Rennick carrying the Insignia and Warrant on a dark blue cushion fringed with silver, in front of the Deb Raja as the Tongsa Penlop advanced from his side to meet me. With a few words appropriate to the occasion, I placed the ribbon of the order round his neck, pinned on ​the star, and handed the warrant to Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk. Major Rennick and myself then returned to our seats, while the Penlop, still standing before the daïs, expressed his thanks for the honour the King-Emperor had conferred on him. I again advanced, and presented Sir Ugyen with a rifle, my photographs of Lhasa and Tibet, and among other things a silver bowl filled with rice, the emblem of material prosperity, in commemoration of the day’s ceremony, and, finally, placing a white silk scarf on his hands, offered him my hearty congratulations and good wishes. Major Rennick and the Subadar also offered scarves, with their congratulations; and finally Mr. Paul, as an old friend of more than thirty years’ standing, in a few words wished the Deb, Bhutan, and the new Knight all prosperity and heartily congratulated them on the new era opening before them. This brought our part of the ceremony to a conclusion, and we remained interested spectators of what followed.
First Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk turned to the Deb Raja and made his obeisance. The Deb, who, as the Cholay Tulku, is also the spiritual head of the Bhutanese Church during the interval awaiting the reincarnation of the Dharma Raja, gave Sir Ugyen his pontifical blessing and placed three scarves round his neck. In like manner Sir Ugyen then received the blessing of the abbot, and afterwards reseated himself.
Now began an almost interminable procession of lamas, officials, and retainers, each bringing a scarf and presents, till the Penlop was almost smothered in scarves, while the whole nave from end to end gradually became filled up with heaps of tea, bags of rice and Indian corn, fabrics—silk, woollen and cotton—of all colours and values, with little bags of gold dust and rupees appearing on the top. As each present was placed on the floor the name of the donor was announced by the Zung Donyer. I had no means of judging, but I should think there were at least two hundred donors. It was amusing to watch the emulation amongst ​them and the flourishes some of them gave as they dumped their presents with a bang on the floor and whipped out their scarves to their full length.
When these congratulations came to an end tea and refreshments were offered to all the company of guests, including the lamas in the aisles, who at each course intoned a sort of grace. Finally betel and pan were distributed.
At the commencement of the feast a large cauldron of murwah, or native beer, was placed at the lower end of the nave, and an unusual ceremony—at least, it was unusual to me—was gone through. The Zung Donyer, with a long, bowl-shaped ladle, mixed the liquid three times, and, holding up the bowl full of beer in one hand, raised the other in prayer. This ceremony he repeated three times, and then advanced with his ladle full to the Deb Raja, who blessed it; he then turned to the Tongsa, upon whose hands a small portion was poured; and finally the Donyer returned and poured the remainder into the cauldron, which was then removed, doubtless for the refreshment of the crowd of onlookers who were not of sufficient importance to share the tea and refreshments dispensed in the Durbar Hall. Next, with great ceremony, a wooden spear, with a piece of red cloth and a white silk scarf fastened to the base of the head, was carried to the Deb and blessed; it was then waved over the Tongsa, who reverently touched the end of the shaft. The spear was then sent to the Tongsa’s apartment. The final act in the ceremonial was a short prayer, led by the Deb and intoned by the lamas, and with this the proceedings ended and we returned to our camp.
It was a most interesting ceremony, and was conducted throughout with the greatest order and reverence, and passed off without a hitch of any kind. It says a great deal for the change in the conduct of affairs in Bhutan and the anxiety to show respect to the British Government that they should have made the presentation of the decoration to the Penlop the first occasion of so public and elaborate ​a ceremony, as I understand that hitherto it has been the custom of the recipient of an honour to go to the Deb and head lamas to receive their blessings, while congratulations and presents are received at his private dwelling.
One of the pleasantest incidents during my stay in Poonakha was an expedition to the Norbugang and Ta-lo monasteries; but equally full of interest was the inspection I made of the fort and palace of Poonakha, which I will try to describe. Poonakha is a typical example of the Bhutanese forts, which throughout the country are built after one common plan. The site selected is always a commanding one, generally on a ridge, with the primary object of defence. In the case of Poonakha, however, the building is situated on a tongue of land running down between the rivers Mo-chhu and Po-chhu just above the junction, and as both rivers are unfordable three sides of the parallelogram are most efficiently protected from attack. Access to the Jong on the river side is by means of two substantial cantilever bridges, strengthened by strong gateways of heavy timber studded with iron, with strong defensive towers at each end, through which the roadway runs. On the only land side the fort is protected by a massive masonry wall, built from river to river, commanding the open plain, which the enemy would have to cross to approach the Jong. There are two strongly defended gateways in the wall.
POONAKHA-JONG
​ Poonakha, lying between the rivers, is easily supplied with water, but other forts built on a ridge have some difficulty, and are in many cases, as at Dug-gye, obliged to build sunk passages zigzagging down to the valley, and protected by towers at each turning, to ensure a supply of water in the event of a siege. Where a fort is built on the side of a hill, as at Paro and at Tongsa, protecting towers are always built above it.
The plan nearly always followed in the forts is that of a rough parallelogram divided into courts. The main entrance in Poonakha is approached by a steep flight of ​wooden steps about 20 feet in height, which in time of emergency can be easily removed, leading to the gateway, a massive wooden structure, easily closed, and invariably shut at night.
Through the gateway the first court is reached. The main citadel is situated in this at the south end, a square building, about 40 feet at the base and 80 feet high, and flanking the court on all sides are the two-storied buildings used as residences by the lay officials. Beyond the citadel there is another court, also surrounded by double-storied dwellings, and in the building dividing this court from the next is the larger Durbar Hall, which stretches across the whole width, the smaller Durbar Hall, where the presentation was held, lying to the east. Next comes another and smaller court, within which, to the south, stands the second and smaller citadel, enclosed by more buildings. Beyond comes another court, given up entirely to the Ta-tshang lamas, numbering about 3000, the large temple standing in the centre. The lamas’ cells occupy two sides of the court, the third side overlooking the junction of the rivers. Underneath these courts are a few store-rooms for the housing of grain, but the greater part is filled in with earth and rock. All the buildings are roofed with shingles made of split wood, and in this the great danger, that of fire, lies, as the shingles are easily set alight, but otherwise, in the days of bows and arrows, such forts were practically impregnable, and this one could, if necessary, house 6000 souls, or even more. I did not find it as clean as some of the other forts I visited, but that was probably owing to the large numbers who had been in it for the past six months; and it must not be imagined that it was anything like as dirty as the accounts of previous travellers would lead one to anticipate. A great deal of damage was done by the earthquake of 1897, and many of the frescoes were seriously injured by having large strips of plaster shaken off, but the embroidered banners and brocade hangings were magnificent, and a feature of the ​palace; but Poonakha looks its best and is most picturesque from a distance.
I gave a dinner party in the evening, at which the Tongsa and Jongpens and other officials were present, and seemed to enjoy themselves. They were particularly pleased with the magic lantern, and asked Major Rennick to give a second display in the fort. We did so a few evenings later to a vast crowd, I should think of at least a thousand people, who, from the remarks I at times overheard, took a keen and intelligent interest in the performance. In addition to slides made from my Tibetan pictures, I had several of India and Europe, and we wetted the screen thoroughly to enable the audience on both sides to see.
My hospital assistant was in much request, and amongst other cases was called to attend the murderer captured at Hah about ten days before, who had suffered the usual punishment; his right hand had been cut off and the tendons of his right leg severed. The process by which it is done is slow, and intended to be merciful, as the skin of the hand is turned back, and the wrist then separated at the joint by a small knife, not injuring the bones of the fore- arm, and also allowing some flesh to form a flap. Medical aid was not called in early enough, but the doctor was able by repeated dressings and applications to give the patient some relief, though he did not remain long enough to ensure a complete cure.
On a lovely day I started with Paul to visit the Ta-lo and Norbugang Monasteries, situated high up a mountain to the west. The track, if it deserves even that name, must be absolutely impassable in wet weather, as it runs entirely over red clay. As it was we had to walk a great portion of the way going there and the whole distance returning. As far as Norbugang, about two hours’ march, the hillside was bare and uninteresting, but afterwards we passed through one or two pretty glades, and the pear and clematis blossom were beautiful. After three hours of ​hard climbing we reached the colony of Ta-lo. The situation was charming. Small, well-built two-storied houses, with carved verandahs and painted fronts, were scattered, each in its little garden of flowers and trees, all over the hillside, with here and there a decorated choten to break anything like a monotony of houses. The large temple seemed to crown all by its size, with its background of cypress and Pinus excelsa. But we afterwards found, 200 feet higher, the small, but beautifully decorated, private residence of the late Dharma Raja, which was an even more fitting crown. The head lama had sent his band, with oranges and other refreshments, for us some way down the hill, and when we emerged on the large platform on which the great temple is built he, with his chief monks, met us and conducted us to a Bhutanese embroidered tent, where he regaled us with several kinds of tea and liquor, none, I fear, very palatable to our European taste. Out of compliment to us, I suppose, the most potent spirit was served in a very curious, old-fashioned cut-glass decanter, with a flat octagonal stopper. After partaking of this kindly hospitality, the head lamas, one of whom was eighty-one years of age, insisted on showing us round themselves. The chapels were scrupulously clean, and possessed some glass window-panes, of which they were evidently very proud. Nothing could exceed their civility; they never hesitated to break seals or open cupboards if we manifested the least curiosity.
The principal objects of interest were the miniature chotens or caskets in which rest the ashes of the first and the late Shabdung Rimpochi; these are made of silver, highly chased and jewelled, but the jewels not of any great value from our point of view—mostly turquoises and other semi-precious stones. The sacred implements of the late Dharma Raja were also on view, and were fine examples of the best metal-work. The pillars and canopies were beautifully carved, and then in turn overlaid with open hammered metal scrolls. The whole impressed me ​with a very high opinion of Bhutanese art and workmanship, which is both bold and intricate. It is a thousand pities that the present impoverishment of the country should give so little encouragement to the continuance of the old race of artificers. The head lama himself complained of the difficulty he was labouring under in completing the memorial to the late Rimpochi.
He then conducted us through the pine forest to the private residence of the late Dharma Raja, where from the top of the hill above there is a beautiful view. It is a perfect little dwelling, charmingly arranged, and full of fine painted frescoes and carved wooden pillars and canopies. We were shown into the room or chapel where the late Lama died and lay in state for some days. I noticed that my attendants and others who were allowed to enter kowtowed to the ground three times and to the altar, and three times to the daïs on which the Lama had lain, and from this I gathered that a high compliment must have been paid me by being taken into the room. We went back to the tent, where we found a lunch provided by the ladies of the Ta-ka Penlop and Thimbu Jongpen, who were related to the late Delai Lama. They pressed us warmly to stay the night, and though I should have liked to do so I did not find it possible to accept the invitation.
On my way back I visited the temples at Norbugang, and was very glad I did so, though the lower one looked so dilapidated and neglected from the outside that I almost resolved not to risk the steep and rickety ladders that do duty for staircases. Luckily I went in, and found the chapel was full of excellent specimens of both metal and embroidered appliqué work. I also found three kinds of incense in process of manufacture. It is a very simple process—merely a mixture of finely powdered charcoal, aromatic herbs, and rice-water made into a paste, then spread on the floor and cut into strips, rolled between the hands and formed into the sticks seen burning in the temples. The different qualities depend on the ​ingredients, the more expensive having musk added as well as herbs.
After a day of pouring rain the morning opened brilliantly, and for the first time I saw the snows at the head of the Mo-chhu Valley, but it soon clouded over. The ladies who had entertained me at Ta-lo came to Poonakha and paid me a visit. After listening to the gramophone, with which they were much pleased, they went away, taking with them some silks for themselves and toys for their children. With them came the head of Ta-lo, the Tango Lama, a man about forty, and his younger brother, Nin-ser Talku, about eleven years old. In the evening the lama came back to dine with us, accompanied by the Thimbu Jongpen, but I do not know that on this occasion the dinner itself was an actual success, as the lama was not allowed to eat fowl or mutton, our principal stand-bys, and the Thimbu excused his want of appetite by saying he had already dined.
I have always found the Bhutanese, as well as the Sikhim people, very appreciative of English food, and as they are Buddhists, with no question of caste, they consider it an honour to be asked to meals, and are most anxious to return any hospitality they receive, in marked contrast to the natives of India, who are defiled and outcasted by such intercourse with strangers. It is a great factor in helping forward friendly relations, and although, out of politeness, they never refuse to taste wine, nearly all the officials are extremely abstemious. At Poonakha the others jocularly remarked that the Zung Donyer, being so much older, was a seasoned vessel, and must drink for the rest of them, and often passed the half-emptied glasses on to him to finish, but at the same time they kept a strict watch to see that the strange spirits whose strength they were unaware of should not overcome him.
After dinner I showed the Tango Lama a stereoscope, with views of Europe, and he so enjoyed it that I gave it to him when he called to take leave. He asked me if I had not ​brought with me any toy animals, mentioning in particular an elephant, as he wanted them to place before a new shrine they were making at Tango. By a great piece of luck I had a toy elephant that waved its trunk and grunted, also a donkey that gravely wagged its head, and a goat that on pressure emitted some weird sounds. He was greatly delighted with them, and bore them off in triumph, but whether to assist his worship or amuse his children I do not know. Next day, on leaving, he asked if I had not a model of a cow, but that, unfortunately, was not forthcoming. It was an excellent idea, bringing models of animals and simple mechanical toys amongst the presents, and they are most popular as gifts, a jumping rabbit being in great demand. It shows the simple nature of the people that they should be interested so easily.
The Tango Lama, in wishing me good-bye, made himself exceedingly pleasant, and expressed great regret that he could not persuade me to pay him a second visit and remain for the night.
One lovely morning when the snows were quite clear, I rode up the hill to the north-east, and had a fine view up both valleys. About two and a half miles up the Mo-chhu are the ruins of a small fort. It is called So-na-ga-sa, which I think must be the Zemri-gatchie of Turner, and contained formerly the great printing establishment of Bhutan and a fine garden-house belonging to the Deb. About eighty years ago it was totally destroyed by fire in one of the internecine wars, and has never been rebuilt, while the greater part of their printing is now carried on at Poonakha.
Not very far off is a sort of cave or arched recess in the bank formed by percolations of lime binding the pebbles, and nearly three hundred years ago it was occupied by a hermit from India known as Nagri-rinchen, whose principal claim to saintship seems to have been his power of sailing on the Mo-chhu on a skin. He probably made a coracle to cross the river in, and hence the legend arose.
​The time was now drawing near for us to move camp, but before we left my escort performed a Khattak dance before the Bhutanese officials and a large crowd of onlookers, who again were absolutely well behaved. We also held an archery meeting for the soldiers in the fort. Their bows are made of bamboo of great strength, and the arrows of reed or bamboo with iron tips have four feathers, while those for game-shooting at close quarters have only two. I believe there are some extremely good marksmen in Bhutan, but the shooting on this occasion was distinctly poor.
The day before our departure I went, accompanied by Mr. Paul, to take formal leave of the Deb Raja. We were ushered into his private audience-hall, where we found him seated on piles of cushions. He showed us special honour by rising to receive us and offering us wine. Our interview was not a prolonged one, but the Deb desired me to convey his thanks to His Excellency the Viceroy for having sent me on this occasion, and to express the hope that he would continue to favour his little State, whose sincere endeavour was to carry out the wishes of the British Government. He also hoped I would visit him at Tashi-cho-jong on my return from Tongsa.
All the high officials and leading lamas came to my tent, bringing letters for the Viceroy and other high officials. The Thimbu Jongpen, acting as spokesman, made a pretty little speech, saying that as according to the Bhutanese custom a letter was always wrapped in a scarf, so they had selected the whitest of scarves, without a spot, to envelop their letter to his Excellency, and hoped that its purity would be considered an emblem of their own perfect purity of mind and intention.
Next morning we started for Angdu-phodang, the Wandipore of Turner, our first stage on the way to Tongsa. We had a charming ride along a road running on the left bank and close to the river, with a descent so gradual it was hardly felt. I found our camp laid out on a large flat to the north-east of the Jong, but as the sun was very ​powerful I decided to have our own tents pitched on the fir-tree-covered flat near an outer round fort. There is a curious point about this fortress; it is built in two distinct parts, connected by an enclosed and loopholed bridge many feet above the level of the hill. There are two local legends to account for this, one that the forts were built at different times, and the other that the villagers of old were so powerful that they refused to be prevented crossing from one river to the other by the closing of the gates, so the designers of the fort were obliged to leave a passage. The most probable story, however, is that the southern and older portion was built some 320 years ago by the second Shabdung Rimpochi, and that subsequently, when one Ache-pipa, a Jongpen, wished to enlarge the building, the villagers insisted that he should leave a passage, so his addition is an entirely separate fort. It is strange that Turner has not noticed the curious way in which “Wandipore” is built.
The interior of the fort was much more picturesque than any we had hitherto seen, except, perhaps, Dug-gye-jong. My photographs illustrate the appearance of the Jong, with its picturesque corners, massive gateways, and the charming effect of its passage-way, far better than any verbal description I might attempt. Including the northern building, there are, as usual, three courts, but only one main entrance, and the damage caused by the great earthquake was still visible, though repairs were slowly progressing. The office of Jongpen was vacant at the time of our visit, for of late years there had been a heavy mortality amongst the holders of the office, and no one was anxious to be appointed, so we were conducted round by the Tongsa Donyer, formerly Donyer of Angdu-phodang, who had restored one of the chapels very well.
About forty-five years ago one of the former Jongpens, who afterwards became Deb Sangye, began cutting down the hill above the round fort, evidently with the intention of imitating the excellent flat in front of the main entrance which is well paved and contains a large choten, a masonry ​tank, and seats, but as his ryots objected to the expense he contented himself with levelling a large space and planting the rows of fir-trees where our tents were pitched, and it certainly was a most charming spot. I went down to the bridge so well described and illustrated in Turner’s narrative. It is wonderful how the mountain rivers of Bhutan, in direct contrast to those of neighbouring Sikhim, seem to keep in one channel. No alteration of the streams seems to have taken place since Turner’s visit a hundred and twenty years ago, yet there are no sufficiently solid rocks nor guiding works to retain it. In Sikhim I could never foresee the vagaries of the different rivers, which would often suddenly leave the main channel in times of flood, and later, on subsidence, take an entirely new course. I tried to get a little historical information from the lamas who came to see me here, and who appeared to be a little more intelligent than those I had hitherto met, but it was no use. I could not even get a list of the Shabdung Rimpochis or Deb Rajas for the last forty years.
On leaving Angdu-phodang on a lovely morning we followed a bridle-path very slightly ascending up the right bank of the Tang-chhu for about six miles. On the opposite bank of the river the house belonging to the ex-Poonakha Jongpen was pointed out to me. He fled to Kalimpong, and afterwards died at Buxa. High up above the road was Chongdu Gompa, the summer residence of the Poonakha Jongpen, on a beautiful cultivated site. At Chapakha we crossed the Ba-chhu (5000 feet) by a good bridge, and a stiff climb of three miles brought us to Samtengang, where our camp was pitched in the midst of pines, just above a wide grassy maidan, with a small lake to add to its picturesqueness. The early part of the day had been hot and not very pretty, but after passing Chapakha the new ridge gave us a succession of level grassy plains.
It was while on the next day’s march that I had the misfortune to lose my little Tibetan spaniel Nari, who had been my companion on many wanderings in Sikhim, in ​Khambajong, and in Lhasa. Just as we were commencing lunch by the Tang-chhu, which we had crossed by the Ratsowok bridge, the little chap gave a sigh, fell on his side, and expired, I suppose from heart disease, as not five minutes before he had been chasing a pariah dog. These Tibetan spaniels are dehghtful little dogs, and great pets of my wife’s. The first one, Thibet, came into her possession at the end of the Sikhim Expedition, a puppy, which one of the telegraph signallers had bought from a Tibetan mule-driver, and ever since we have never been without some of them, though Tibbie, alas! died many years ago; but his descendants have come to England, and I hope may have many years before them. They are dainty little creatures, with beautiful silky coats of black fluffy hair, and feathery tails curled on their backs, yet full of pluck, game enough to kill rats, and the three who accompanied me to Lhasa, little Nari among the number, used to run daily for miles over the great Tibetan plain, hunting for marmots, hares, anything that came in their way.
It was a long day’s march that day—quite fourteen miles—though the road was excellent and very interesting, as the scenery was constantly changing. Between Ba-chhu and Tang-chhu we seemed to be on an island hill standing alone, quite apart from the others. For some miles we gradually ascended to Tsha-za-la (9300 feet), and then equally gradually descended to a curious ravine, where, although invisible from higher up, our ridge was really joined on to the main ridge separating the two rivers. Our descent took us down to the Tang-chhu (6700 feet), and, crossing the Ratsowok bridge, a very pretty and good path took us up to Ridha, a fine open space with plenty of flat ground, the village situated on a knoll above us. There were fine views of a snowy range, whence the Tang-chhu took its rise many miles up a rich valley. It was one of our most beautiful marches, the rhododendrons in full bloom, and the oak, chestnuts, and walnuts in their new ​foliage giving the most vivid and delicate colouring to the scene. In every direction we could see evidences of better cultivation and more prosperity than in any valley we had hitherto traversed. Unfortunately the inhabitants are reputed to be very quarrelsome, and constant litigation, which means heavy bribes to the officials called in to decide their cases, has tended to keep the villagers more impoverished than they ought to be.
All night there was a continuous thunderstorm to the west, and we suffered from a heavy rainfall, but apart from this our camp was very comfortable, as sites had been levelled for our tents and fine mats put down, sheds erected for our followers, and—the greatest comfort of all—cows had been brought to camp, so we had fresh and clean milk.
The rain in the night had quite spoilt the surface of the road for the next day’s march, and what would otherwise have been a pleasant, easy, and pretty ride through fine forests became a hard struggle for man and beast to keep their footing on the clayey soil. It took me one hour, and forty minutes to get to the top of the Pele-la (11,100 feet). Then it began to rain, and a heavy fog coming on as well, we saw little and fared badly. It was very unlucky, as the country was a succession of wide, open glades, affording most excellent grazing stations. The road, too, under ordinary circumstances would have been good, and as it was showed signs of having been well aligned; portions had been paved, and other soft places corduroyed with flat timber. Another hour and a half saw us at our camp on a flat just below the village of Rokubi (9400 feet), about forty feet above the Siche-chhu, where again excellent huts had been built, a great comfort in the rain and raw cold.
Next day’s march lay through beautiful country, but was marred by rain and mist, and we reached camp wearied out by an eighteen miles’ march under such disagreeable conditions. A very good road led us gradually down from Rokubi through very pretty scenery to Chandenbi, passing on the way a side valley through which was a direct but ​bad path to Tongsa. At Chandenbi we had to halt to witness a dance on which the villagers pride themselves. In step it was very similar to the lama dances, though the dresses were not quite so gorgeous, but it was not very interesting.
Some distance further on we came to a romantic patch of sward in a gorge of the ravine where the stream was joined by another mountain torrent, and on the tongue of land thus formed, covered with beautiful cedar pines, was a fine choten, built in imitation of the Swayambunath in Nepal. For miles we continued to traverse undulating ground about the same altitude, through oak, magnolia, and rhododendrons, until we emerged on more open country. Passing Tashiling, where there is a large rest-house, we continued for three more weary miles to Tshang-kha (7500 feet), where we found our camp pitched on a fine open grassy spot, with several hundreds of fine cattle grazing close by. The village was a long way above us, and out of sight.
This was our last halting-place before arriving at Tongsa, and unluckily it rained all night, but by morning it was only misty. Our road took us up the left bank of the Madu-chhu, at a considerable height above its raging torrent, and shortly we found ourselves in very rocky country, as the gorge through which the stream flows narrows considerably, with tremendous precipices overhanging each side. We made slow progress down a road, or rather a series of steep zigzags mostly composed of stone steps, and this path continued to within a short distance of the bridge across the Madu-chhu, some 900 feet below the castle and fortress of Tongsa. The bridge was of the usual cantilever kind, flanked by defensive towers, the whole having been rebuilt within the last few years.
A second steep zigzag, with many flights of stone steps, led us under the walls of the castle, and we entered through a door in an outlying bastion overhanging the cliff up which we had been toiling, and which effectually barred further ​progress. Passing through the outer gateway of the castle, we emerged on a large stone-flagged courtyard, across which I rode to a gateway on the east side, and, going through this, found myself outside again on a narrow path which ran under the walls of the castle and brought us to the back of the ridge, on which was built a fine square choten. From thence a new road about one-third of a mile in length had been made along the hillside to our camp, which was pitched on an exceedingly pretty knoll, with fine trees, an excellent water supply, and a pretty round tank. This, we learnt, was the pleasaunce of the castle monks.
On our arrival at the ridge immediately below the castle we were met by a large party of retainers, leading gaily caparisoned ponies and mules for us. They were hardly necessary as we were already so well provided for, the Tongsa having placed most excellent mules at our service since leaving Poonakha, carefully selecting those we had tried and liked best; but to send additional mounts was another proof of his hospitality. Amid a salute of guns, which reverberated grandly through the rocky gorge, we emerged from the bridge, where a procession of gaily dressed minstrel singers and dancers met us, and conducted us up the hilly zigzag singing verses of praise and welcome in a curious but not unpleasant monotone. There were seven women singers, peculiar to Bhutan, four clarion players, two drummers, and two gong-strikers in addition to the dancers. We were thus ceremoniously ushered into our camp, where Sir Ugyen met us with a very hearty welcome, and gave us tea and milk, carefully seeing himself that we had all we required. He had with kind forethought sent four picked men to carry Paul, who suffered from an injured back, over the steepest parts of the journey. All Bhutanese officials are carried when the road is too steep and bad to ride a mule, but that is not often, as the mules will go almost anywhere. The orderly who carries the officer, seated pickaback in a strong cloth ​firmly knotted on the man’s forehead, is always a specially picked and wonderfully strong man. I tried this mode of progression once, but it failed to commend itself to me, and I think Paul was wise in refusing it on this occasion. The men were, however, most useful in lending a helping hand over the worst places. I felt obliged, much against my inclination, to ride up the ladder-like steps on our way to the castle, and they held me on, one on either side, so that I could not possibly fall off. I found Captain Pemberton’s description, written so many years before, exactly described the situation. “The rider, if a man of any rank, is supported by two runners, one on each side, who press firmly against his back while the pony is struggling against the difficulties of the ascent, and give thus such efficient support that no muscular exertion is necessary to retain his seat in the most trying ascents.”
The castle is so irregularly built that it is somewhat difficult to describe. The building on the extreme south was erected in great haste by the first Shabdung Rimpochi to check an inroad from the east of Bhutan, and is a small, low range forming the sides of the present courtyard, and commanding beautiful views. On the north side of the court is a fine five-storied building, in which the Penlop resides when here. It was originally erected by Mi-gyur Namgyal, the first Deb, but it suffered badly in the earthquake of 1897, and the two upper stories have been rebuilt and decorated by the present Penlop. Immediately behind this building is the main tower, surmounted by a gilded canopy, while attached to the west wall is a covered way leading to a second courtyard. A flight of steps leading out of the first court to the north brought me to a large rectangular yard, at the south end of which was a very pretty, though rather small, office for the Donyer, or steward, on the east another building of five stories, each with a fine verandah, while on the first story were the very fine temples, lately repainted at Sir Ugyen’s expense. There is a similar building on the west. On the north is the wall supporting ​
TONGSA-JONG
Sir Ugyen was erecting a gigantic sitting image of the Coming Buddha, made of stucco, and at least twenty feet high, but not then painted. A passage to the east from the third courtyard led to the north of a battlemented terrace built up from the ravine below, and a gateway on the north-west opened out on the ridge and the choten that we had reached by the lower road on the day of our arrival.
Below the eastern wall in the ravine is the building containing the prayer-wheels worked by water from which the palace took its original name of Chu-knor-rab-tsi. In it are two sets of wheels, each axle containing three manis, or cylinders, containing prayers, one above the other, the smallest at the top. They had evidently not been used for some time, so the next day, having nothing better to do, we assisted in putting them in order, by clearing out the waterways, which had been blocked with stones and rubbish, and hope it may be placed to our credit as a work of merit.
Later I received visits from the Tongsa Zimpon, who is a son of Sir Ugyen’s sister and the Bya-gha Jongpen, and is married to Sir Ugyen’s daughter, and also from the castle monks, who struck me as a much better class of men than usual, pleasant in their manners, clean, and educated.
Early one morning the sound of a very sweet-toned gong warned us that the spring ceremony of blessing the rice-fields was about to begin. A long, picturesque procession of men and women, led by the Donyer, came winding down the hillside until the first rice-field, into which water had been running all the day before, was reached. The field below was still dry, and, turning in there, they all sat down and had some light refreshment. Suddenly the men sprang up, throwing off their outer garments; this was the signal for the women to rush to the inundated field and to commence throwing clods of earth and splashes of muddy water on the men below as they tried to climb up. Then followed a wild and mad, though always good-humoured, ​struggle between the men and women in the water, the men doing their utmost to take possession of the watery field, the women equally determined to keep them out. The Donyer, the leader of the men, suffered severely, though the courtesies of war were strictly observed, and if one of the assailants fell his opponents helped him up and gave him a breathing-space to recover before a fresh onset was made. But gradually the women drove the men slowly down the whole length of the field, the last stand being made by a very stout and powerful official, who, clinging to an overhanging rock, with his back to his foes, used his feet to scoop up such quantities of water and mud that no one was able to come near him. However, all the other men having been driven off, he and the Donyer were allowed at last to crawl up on the path, and the combat for that year was over. This was looked on as a very propitious ending, as the women’s victory portends during the coming season fertility of the soil and increase amongst the flocks, so they dispersed to their various homes rejoicing. After witnessing the curious ceremony we went to the castle, and were received by Sir Ugyen, who took us into the courtyard and showed us over the chapels, which he has lately renovated lavishly, but at the same time in very good taste.
From the verandah we witnessed two lama dances, the Chogyal-Yab-Yum and the Shanak, but these have been so often described by travellers who have penetrated to Leh or have seen them elsewhere that I need only say that the dresses worn were a gift lately presented by Sir Ugyen to the lamas and were most gorgeous, and the dance was excellently performed. Unfortunately, before the second dance was over the rain came down in torrents, and I had the performance stopped to save the dresses from being
CHAPTER XV
MY FIRST MISSION TO BHUTAN—continued
From Tongsa-jong to Bya-gha, Lingzi, and Phari, Hospitality of the Tongsa and Tongsa’s sister at Bya-gha. Old monasteries near Bya-gha. Ancient traditions. Carvers and carpenters at the Champa Lhakhang Monastery. Regret at leaving Bya-gha. Lama dances. Farewell to Sir Ugyen. Reception at Tashi-cho-jong. Last interview with the Deb Raja. Ta-tshang lamas. Cheri Monastery. Magnificent scenery. Incorrect maps. Exposure of the dead to lammergeiers. View of Tibet from the Ling-shi Pass. Break-up of the Mission.
It was now time to move on again, and, accompanied by the Tongsa, we left next morning, ascending by a very steep path to the main road running above the upper fort. Thence our progress was comparatively easy to the top of the Yo-to-la (11,500 feet), and an equally easy road brought us to our camp at Gya-tsa (8740 feet), a distance of twelve miles. It was a very pretty march. The country had again changed, and we emerged from the confinement of narrow gorges into a series of broad valleys, the upper ones providing grazing for hundreds of yaks, the lower ones rich with barley, buckwheat, and mustard fields. Dotted about we noticed for the first time the temporary huts erected to shelter the cultivators during their stay in high elevations at the times of ploughing, sowing, and reaping; while lower down their substantial dwellings showed we were entering a better governed and more prcsperous district than those we had left behind. In the village of Gya-tsa itself there was a fine substantial rest-house for ​travellers, but more especially for the Tongsa monks, who journey to Bya-gha for two months every year. On a low spur, to the north-west, a prettily built house surrounded by trees was pointed out to me as the home of a powerful family who had plotted to murder the Tongsa. The plot was discovered in time, but Sir Ugyen, although he had narrowly escaped the fate of his uncle, was merciful, and merely banished the ringleaders to a more distant valley. Nemesis overtook them, however, as their leaders commenced a drunken quarrel with their neighbours and were killed, and their adherents dispersed. Dr. Griffiths says: “Fasia [as he calls Gya-tsa] is a good-sized village, comparatively clean, and the houses better than most I have seen.” He adds: “We were lodged in a sort of castle, consisting of a large building with a spacious flagged courtyard surrounded by rows of offices; the part we occupied fronted the entrance, and its superior pretensions were attested by its having an upper story.”
My camp was prettily arranged on a maidan half a mile beyond the village of Fasia, or Gya-tsa, and there I was met by the Bya-gha Jongpen, who was married to the Penlop’s sister.
It was difficult to select a mount next morning, owing to the large number of waiting mules, as not only were the Tongsa's animals there, but his sister and her son the Zimpon, whom I had seen at Tongsa, had also sent mules. Having made our selection, an easy and good road took us over a saddle on the Ki-ki-la (11,700 feet), and an equally easy descent brought us to an opening in the pine-forest, from whence we looked down on the broad vale of Bya-gha, through which the river Chamka-chhu flowed tranquilly. On the right bank was a large house and chapel, surrounded by trees just bursting into leaf, the home of Sir Ugyen’s sister, and close by the site of the old house in which he was born. On a bluff on the central ridge, some 500 feet up, was the castle, entirely rebuilt, though on a smaller scale, after the total destruction of the old one in 1897; ​while, to crown all, where the ridge widened out into broad glades edged with pine-forest, was the equally new summer house of our host. He had terraced and turfed the slope above the castle, and nothing could have been more picturesque than our camping-ground. The view everywhere, both up and down the valley, was lovely. Dr. Griffiths writes: “The country was very beautiful, particularly in the higher elevations”; and at this season, to add to the beauty, primulas, in flower in myriads, clothed whole glades in delicate violet, while above rhododendrons flamed in gorgeous scarlet. He adds: “We saw scarcely any villages, and but very little cultivation.” In direct contradiction to this, I noticed that whole hillsides were being cultivated up to at least 11,000 feet, and I was so struck by the difference that I made inquiries, and found that as recently as thirty years ago, when Sir Ugyen left the valley, a boy of twelve, there was nothing but jungle either here or on the slopes opposite. The land had only been brought into cultivation since the internecine quarrels had ceased some eighteen years ago. So much for stability of government; but even now poverty reigns, and the valley is only prosperous in comparison with more unlucky ones.
A short ride brought us into camp, where Sir Ugyen awaited us. As soon as we had settled down Sir Ugyen’s sister, his two daughters, and a daughter of the Thimbu Jongpen came to add their welcome. The younger ones were rather pretty, unaffected and merry girls, while the sister, although a grandmother, was full of good-nature and showed traces of good looks. They all wore the pretty and distinctive dress, which consists of a long piece of Bhutanese cloth, woven in coloured stripes, draped round the figure, and fastened on the shoulders and confined at the waist by a band of brighter Bhutanese cloth. They also wore many necklaces of large rough beads of coral, turquoise, and amber, and occasionally gold filigree beads and many bangles of gold and silver. Their hair was left ​unornamented, and either cut short or worn in two long plaits. The elder daughter brought her little son, to whom I gave a bottle of sweets, which pleased him just as much as it would a little Western boy, and his mother told me later that he ever after loved me for my gift.
This visit to Bya-gha, which lasted about ten or twelve days, was the most delightful part of our expedition, as we were received as honoured guests by Sir Ugyen in his private capacity; and, interesting and impressive as the ceremonial had been at Poonakha, these few days at Bya-gha gave us a much deeper insight into the life and customs of the Bhutanese, as our intercourse with our host was quite free and untrammelled. Very soon after our arrival Sir Ugyen took me all over his house. In the centre of an oblong courtyard rose a lofty square tower of many stories, the two highest, of ornamental timberwork, slightly projecting over the main walls, beautifully painted in different colours. On the south-east and north sides of the courtyard were two-storied buildings of the usual type. In the south-east corner were the Tongsa’s quarters, which did not differ in any material respect from the reception rooms we had seen elsewhere; on the north-east were his eldest daughter’s apartments; while between them, on the east front, occupying the whole width of the building, was a long, well-ventilated factory, where many girls were busy weaving silk and cotton fabrics, chiefly the former. The silk was in the main tussar, obtained from Assam and the northern hills. It was altogether a very charming and homelike dwelling, and evidently managed by an excellent and capable housewife in his eldest daughter, who lives with him and superintends his household.
On one occasion we breakfasted with him, and were offered several small dishes cooked in Chinese fashion in small cups, with the accompaniment of boiled rice, while in the centre of the table was a large dish of various kinds of meat. After breakfast I had to go and witness an archery contest. The distance between the butts was at ​least 150 yards, and the shooting was much better than what we saw at Poonakha and what Dr. Griffiths writes of. There were two teams, captained respectively by Ugyen Kazi and the Tongsa Donyer, and the former won.
Sir Ugyen took a good deal of trouble to find some books for me, from which I have gathered a fuller account of early Bhutanese history than we have had hitherto. His own story is a somewhat pathetic one. As a young man he married an exceedingly lovely girl, to whom he was devotedly attached, but after the birth of their second daughter she died very suddenly from some unknown cause. The shock was a terrible one to Sir Ugyen. He became seriously ill, and on his recovery withdrew from all gaiety, and found solace in reading and studying the history and legends of his country. As some of his followers described him, he was more than a lama. Sir Ugyen is the only Bhutanese I have come across who takes a real and intelligent interest in general subjects, both foreign and domestic, and he neither drinks nor indulges in other vices. He made a large collection of books, but unfortunately many of them were destroyed when the Dechen-phodang, near Tashi-cho-jong, was burnt down, while the earthquake of 1897, which destroyed all the principal buildings in Bhutan, ruined other archives. Paro alone escaped serious injury, but a few years later was burnt to the ground, and unfortunately the Penlop, who was a low-minded and ignorant man, could give no account of what it had contained that was of any value. I held many long private conversations with the Tongsa, and was deeply impressed by his sense of responsibility and genuine desire to improve the condition of his country and countrymen. I gave him what advice I could, and made an attempt to lay the foundation of a close friendship between him and the British Government, and only wish it had been possible to remain in my appointment long enough to see the results of my endeavours, but the time for my retirement came ​before any of the schemes we discussed had been even commenced.
It is much to be deplored that the proposals with respect to Bhutan made to the Government of India by Mr. Paul on the conclusion of the Sikhim Expedition in 1890 were not approved of. His suggestion that I should hold the appointment of Political Officer to Bhutan as well as Sikhim was a sound one, and had these schemes of improvement been discussed then, by this time they would have been in working order, to the great advantage of Bhutan. The loss during the last twenty years from the wholesale cutting of their forests along their boundary in the Duars alone amounts to many lacs.
The Tongsa’s sister was very anxious to entertain us in her own house, so we moved some of our camp near her dwelling on the banks of the river, where a pretty flat dotted with willows had been enclosed for us. To ornament our camping-ground, they had temporarily planted it with evergreen trees hung with various blossoms—one of the little things which showed how anxious they were to do all in their power to welcome us. Sir Ugyen, his sister, and two of her daughters—the third being away in a neighbouring monastery—welcomed us most cordially.
In the evening we inspected a new Jong in the process of being rebuilt to take the place of one which was entirely destroyed in the earthquake. The new one is of the usual type, but much smaller, and Sir Ugyen explained he had carefully rebuilt the foundations for the main tower, which consequently showed no cracks or signs of settlement, unlike that of Tashi-cho-jong, which had been carelessly rebuilt on the old foundations, with disastrous results. We also rode up the valley to inspect the very old Champa Lhakhang Monastery, which is being partly rebuilt by the Bya-gha Jongpen. It is a small monastery, and only interesting on account of its age.
Further up the valley, under a rocky bluff, we came to a double gompa. The larger one was built by Sir Ugyen ​some years ago, and contains a very large image of Guru Rimpochi, and is called Guru Lhakhang. Close alongside is the smaller one, called Kuje Lhakhang, built on the rock itself, which forms the back wall. On the rock inside the temple is the impression of Guru Rimpochi's back as he sat leaning against it, and also of his “bumpu,” or holy water bottle, which he happened to be holding up. Outside on the rock is a very fine Tsenden, or weeping cypress, which the legend relates was the Guru’s staff, which he had stuck in the earth, when it immediately took root and grows to this day.
On the way back we were shown the site of the Sindhu Raja’s house, now in ruins, situated on the edge of a high bluff overhanging the river. It appears to have been a square of sixty or seventy feet, and the wall apartments could not have been very wide, as there seems to have been an open space in the centre, unless this again was covered in by a floor above, in which case the building would have been an exact counterpart of the central towers we now find in every Jong. Surrounding the sides, on the level, was a well-defined ditch, with a continuation on the outer side leading to the river, and also a well-defined path. Tradition states there was also a gate at the opposite corner to the south. The Penlop has lent me a book of old stories in which there is a glowing description of the old house. On a low hill across the plain the spot was pointed out where the Raja’s son was killed fighting against the Naguchi Raja, who lived in the Duars, below Wandipore, and also seems to have reigned in or near the plains. The Guru Rimpochi had heard of the constant wars between the two chiefs, and had come expressly to bring about peace. On his arrival he found the Sindhu Raja prostrate with grief at the loss of his son, and comforting him, and nursing him back to health, he persuaded him to come to terms with his rival. Before his departure, however, he prophesied that in the near future his kingdom would vanish, and not a stone of his palace would remain standing, ​a prophecy which has been fulfilled. The Guru is said to have married, before his departure, a daughter of the Raja named Memo-Tashi Kyeden.
When we got back to the new house the Tongsa’s sister gave us an excellent lunch, but she would not sit down with us, contenting herself with a pretty speech, in which she said that, according to Bhutanese custom, some great personage would have been invited to the house-warming, but she was exceptionally fortunate and considered it a most auspicious omen that her brother’s two oldest friends, Mr. Paul and myself, should have accompanied him when he paid his first visit to her new house. Later on she, with her daughters and servants, dressed in old-fashioned Bhutanese dress, in order to let me take a few photographs, and in the evening, after dining with us, the Jongpen and the eldest daughter gave us some Bhutanese music, the former on the damnyan and the latter on the pyang. The younger son and the youngest daughter live at the new Chumik Gompa, where I rode to pay them a visit. The boy was the Avatar of the Thaling Monastery, and they were bright, pleasant young folk. The boy’s teacher and guardian, a Lopen of Mindoling, near Samye, was one of the most refined-looking lamas from Tibet that I have met. Next day I rode again to the Champa Lhakhang Monastery, to see the carpenters and carvers at work. The former use a square and a double-manned plane. Most of the carving tools are without handles. No iron is used, but all the pieces of timber are fitted together in the yard, and the necessary dowels made before they are carried away to the building.
Before leaving I gave a magic-lantern entertainment, which was highly appreciated, and later, at the sister’s special request, my escort came from Bya-gha and gave a military display, to their great enjoyment. We then wished our kind hosts good-bye with sincere regret, for we had thoroughly enjoyed the natural, open-hearted hospitality with which all at Wong-du-choling had entertained ​us, and in sultry weather we rode back to Bya-gha, where we again encamped preparatory to turning our faces homewards.
The Tongsa was to see me in the morning to arrange about sending off presents to His Excellency the Viceroy and other high officials, but sent word that he was not very well. He came later on in the day, looking a little out of sorts, and laughed the matter off by saying he had eaten too many green chillies, the first of the season.
With the approach of our departure Sir Ugyen, his sister, daughters, and two of his nieces, came to take a formal farewell, and brought with them many little parting gifts, and in the afternoon, at their special request, my escort gave another military display, ending with an attack and capture of an outlying village, which greatly amused the large crowd assembled to look on. After it was over the Tongsa’s sister and daughters insisted on my going to the fort to tea with them before they returned to Andu-choling that evening. As my stock of presents was running short, I asked them to accept some notes, which, being in halves, like so many Indian ones, I had neatly rolled up in a leather bag. These I heard later the ladies had distributed promiscuously among themselves, when luckily Ugyen Kazi came on the scene and tried to explain that half-notes were worthless. It was difficult to make them understand, and the knotty point was solved by the ladies saying to the Kazi, “Oh, brother! take them yourself and bring us silks from Calcutta.” I found Sir Ugyen’s sight was beginning to fail a little, and as my spectacles exactly suited him I was able to give him a spare pair.
With the morning the actual hour of our departure arrived, and we struck camp and commenced our real journey back. Sir Ugyen and his son-in-law left very early, intending to make one march to Tongsa, but we were accompanied by the other members of his family as far as the main ridge, where they all presented us with scarves and wished us good luck, saying how really sorry ​they were to bid us good-bye. I replied in similar terms, and could honestly say that all my party fully reciprocated their feelings of regret, for one and all had done their best, and had succeeded, in making our stay at Bya-gha and Andu-choling a very pleasant one.
We had a delightful ride and walk to our old camp at Gya-tsa, which is evidently a much colder place than Bya-gha; there the wheat was in full ear, here it was only a foot high. There was much more cultivation on the slopes with a north-eastern aspect than on those with a southern one. This is probably due to the former getting the morning sun, and also to being sheltered from the southerly winds that rage up the valleys. Quail abound in all the cornfields, and apparently breed in these valleys.
A fine morning turned into heavy mist as we reached the top of the Yo-to-la, and utterly spoilt our view of the Gya-tsa Valley and the hills opposite Tongsa. The yellow giant Sikhim primula was in magnificent bloom, some specimens having as many as six tiers of flowers.
On nearing the castle we were met by a bevy of songstresses, a custom peculiar to the place, as this is the only province of Bhutan in which women take part in ceremonial processions, though, according to Pemberton, the custom was much more widespread in his time. Sir Ugyen met us in camp with the information that the castle lamas were all ready and eager to finish the dances that on our previous visit had been stopped by rain, so after a hasty lunch I went on to the castle. The dance went off very well, with the dancers in gorgeous dresses of every imaginable colour, to the accompaniment of weird tomtoms and huge trumpets, flutes, and cymbals, which produce a strange and unusual but rather fascinating music of their own. But the most interesting objects to me were the masks, which, instead of being carved out of wood, as in Sikhim, were moulded from a papier-mâché of cloth and clay; and very well moulded they were, the heads of the various animals quite recognisable, and many ​with great character. The Tongsa was good enough, about this time, on learning I had become a grandfather, to make me a pretty speech, in which he hoped that as I had been a true and good friend to him and to Bhutan, my grandson would in his turn follow in my footsteps and be as good a friend to his grandson and to Bhutan, and thereupon the little chap was brought by his mother to offer his best wishes to his contemporary.
We now came in for a spell of terribly wet weather, which lasted for the next few days. I fancy Tongsa is a very wet place, and naturally Sir Ugyen’s family forsake it after the cold weather. In pouring rain we marched on to Tshang-kha, and a terrible march it was; the stone steps seemed interminable, and to lead in every direction but that which took us to our camp. Sir Ugyen had started before us, and was ready waiting when we eventually arrived with welcome refreshment. He had determined to see us as far as the boundary of his province at Pele-la, and agreed to be our guest on the way. He is always very keen to find outlets for his ryots’ superfluous food-stuffs, and on finding such things as Paysandu tongues and chutneys amongst our stores made many inquiries as to the best methods of preserving provisions. We had many long talks on Bhutanese affairs and new methods of government, about which he was always glad to converse and ready to ask for suggestions and improvements. After very heavy rain all night, it cleared about the time we started, so we had a very interesting, though rather slippery, ride to Chendenbi (7380 feet), about four miles nearer than Rokuhi, where we halted before, and a better distribution, as the former march from Tshang-kha to Rokuhi was too long. We rode through typical subtropical forests, until, suddenly rounding a spur, we emerged into open country and fir-trees. Opposite our camp at Chendenbi, on the other side of the river, there were cliffs of pure white crystalline limestone, which I should think was equal to the finest marble.
After dinner that evening Sir Ugyen made a speech, in ​which he expressed his deep regret that on the morrow we should have to part. He hoped sincerely he should meet Major Rennick and myself again, but feared that Mr. Paul would not be tempted out from England any more. In wishing him good-bye he trusted that in his far-distant home he would not forget him or Bhutan or the good seed he had planted and nourished for the last twenty years.
We reached the top of the Pele-la along a very pretty road, where a small yellow rose, clematis, wild pear, and rhododendrons of many colours were in wild profusion, while the meadows were clothed with blue and white anemones, yellow pansies, and countless primulas.
At the top of the pass we had lunch and were photographed, and then had reluctantly to part with our friend and kind host and his son-in-law. My escort, who had a genuine respect for Sir Ugyen, presented arms and gave him three cheers before turning down the hill. We exchanged scarves and good wishes, and then also followed the path down the hill. Sir Ugyen waved us a last salute as we turned the corner and went out of sight. I think he really felt our departure as much as I can honestly say I did, and I cannot help repeating myself and saying again that no host could have been more courteous, more hospitable, and more thoughtful of his guests than Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk, the Tongsa Penlop of Bhutan, was to us, the Mission sent by the Government of India to present him with the Insignia of a Knight Commander of the Indian Empire.
The rest of the march to our camping-place, Ridha, was very slippery, but the rain kept off till most of our tents were pitched, and next day we had a fair morning and lovely day, with only one heavy shower. It was a long march to Samtengang, but very beautiful, and each day brought its new flowers, a large white rose, a white and a mauve iris, both new to me; and the giant lily (Lilium gigantium) appeared for the first time. It was a tiresome march on to Angdu-phodang, over a road too narrow to ride, so walking was compulsory, and in the afternoon a ​hurricane arose and raged till nearly ten at night, when it began to drizzle.
I now determined to try a new route up the right bank of the Tsang-chhu or Mo-chhu-Pochu, and Teo-pa-raong-chhu. The river was in full flood, and, filling its bed from bank to bank, looked very fine. I did well in choosing this route, as the road was an excellent one, with a steady ascent from start to finish, and we rode the whole way to Lung-me-tsawe. There were lovely flowers in bloom everywhere, and on the way we passed the sites where formerly two iron suspension bridges had been; the remains of the chains were lying below the Jong. Two fords were also pointed out. I found the ascent of the Dokyong-la much less difficult than it appeared on our descent earlier in the journey, and I had some lovely views until we ran into mist on the top. Luckily I had one glimpse of Kulu-Kangri, a very fine peak of 24,740 feet. On the top of the pass I saw the first yew-trees I had come across in Bhutan. We found a deputation from the Thimbu Jongpen waiting for us, with mules to ride, and chang, tea, and murwa as refreshments, not only for ourselves, but for all our following. The descent to Simtoka was very easy, and the mist soon cleared off.
Just across the bridge below Simtoka the band and dancers belonging to the Thimbu received us, and played us into our camp, nearly three miles off, at Tashi-cho-jong, on the wide maidan about a mile from the palace. With our ridden mules and led mules in their gay trappings, monks on ponies, orderlies in bright uniforms, bands of musicians and dancers, and all the rest of our varied and motley following, we made a goodly procession. It was hot, and I wished I could have headed the procession after the regal manner of King David, with an umbrella to shelter me; and, to my great relief, when we reached the chorten above the aqueduct we found a large umbrella had been unfurled, and we rested awhile under it before making our final entry. The Thimbu offered us refreshments, and ​made the most polite inquiries after our healths, and hoped we had not had an excessively tiresome journey. I assured him that his arrangements had been so excellent we had not known what difficulties were, and to this he replied the Bhutanese did not easily make friends, but when they did no trouble was too great to make their guests feel comfortable and thoroughly at home.
We found our camp pitched on the left bank of the Thim-chhu, where a new wooden house had been erected, with a large room with windows away from the prevailing winds. Here the Thimbu was joined by the Zung Donyer and the Deb Zimpon. The table was decorated with fruit and some of the finest peonies I have ever seen, a cauldron of murwa was in the centre, and as soon as we were all seated the Thimbu’s chaplain intoned grace, in which the others joined; the murwa was then solemnly blessed, a little in a ladle was poured over my hands, and the sacred flag brought in for me to touch. Next a number of teapots were brought in, three at a time, each of the trio containing a different tea. These were sent by the various officials as their greeting, and when the donor’s name had been announced the tea was taken away to regale our followers. We spent some little time in conversation with our hosts before going to our tents at the conclusion of this quaint ceremony of welcome.
The following day we went early to the palace to bid the Deb Raja good-bye. His reception room was very large and airy, and the Deb himself was most cordial, and came forward to receive us, and stood talking till our own chairs were brought in. In the course of conversation the Deb again expressed his sincere gratitude to the Viceroy for having sent such friends to see him, and to us for coming, and trusted that relations between his little country and the Sirkar would always be intimate and friendly, as pure as a white scarf with no blot to mar its whiteness, as indissoluble as water and milk when intermixed, and that on his part no effort should be wanting to secure so happy a ​result, and should any one of us at any time return he could assure him of a hearty welcome. He asked me to send him a set of photographs of Lhasa and of Bhutan, and inquired if I had any of Buddh-Gaya, as he was anxious to possess some. He sat for his own photograph, and when refreshments had been served we were dismissed with the scarf of blessing, which he placed on our arms.
From there we adjourned to the Thimbu’s room, where he had a Bhutanese breakfast waiting for us, consisting principally of bowls of rice, omelettes, dishes of sausages, and pork in various forms. He too expressed his pleasure at our visit to his country, and wished our stay could be prolonged, and the least he could do was to accompany us as far as Hram, and in the meantime he asked us to gratify him by selecting anything in his hall that took our fancy.
At the conclusion of this civil speech we went to the separate court of the Ta-tshang lamas, where the Dorji-Lopon, or abbot, received us very cordially, and took us into the big hall I described on my journey up. Here we found a kind of pandemonium going on, but on closer examination discovered there were a number of dancing classes in progress, from the smallest acolytes shouting out the numbers of the little steps and arm-wavings they were being taught, to a grave collection of learned monks performing unmasked the gyrations that we had witnessed at Tongsa. When we came out we learnt that it was entirely against rules for any layman to intrude upon the monks when thus practising, and I apologised to the abbot for breaking rules through my ignorance, but he smilingly replied that “no rules applied to us, as he hoped we would consider ourselves as one with them.” When giving us scarves before leaving the gompa, the abbot, who was joined by the Lopens, trusted that now that we had found our way to their abode and become their friends we would make a point of some day returning, but that whatever fate might be in store for us and them, at least our present firm friendship might remain for ever unbroken and ​enduring. It was very pleasant to find the same cordial wishes and expressions of goodwill repeated by every one in turn, and to be made to feel so thoroughly that our visit was looked on in the light of a compliment to their country, and that everything was thrown open to us, instead of finding obstacles and difficulties in our way.
The history of the building of Poonakha I heard from the Thimbu Jongpen, who, when a boy, heard it from a very old woman. According to him, the old palace and fort stood on the ridge where the Dechen-phodang stands. The greater part of it having been burnt down, the Deb Zimpon, who had usurped all the power, determined to rebuild it on its present site, which was much more convenient for the supply of water. The valleys were thickly populated in those days, and the Deb collected so many people that the materials were passed from hand to hand the whole way from Dechen-phodang to Tashi-cho-jong, a distance of quite a mile. It is needless to say the labour was forced, and although the palace was said to have been completed in one year the Deb became very unpopular.
The Tibetans seem to have been very fond of raiding Bhutan, as the fort of Simtoka, close by, built by the first Shabdung, was soon after captured and burnt by them. In rebuilding it the architect utilised one of the original wood pillars which had only been singed as a memorial of the saint. It stands there to this day, its damaged surface covered with elaborate carving.
We broke up camp early in the morning, and for three or four miles our path lay through open ground similar in character to that below Tashi-cho-jong. We saw several monasteries, but only entered one, Pangri-sampi-gnatsa, which was beautifully situated in the midst of the valley, but contained nothing of much interest. Turning due north over a cliff, we came to an entirely different scene, the valley narrowing considerably, and being beautifully wooded and picturesque to a degree. Throughout the march ruined houses were in a majority, most evidently ​deserted years ago, as big trees had grown up in and around them, and this state of things was accounted for by the following story. The monastery of Dechenphuk, founded by one of the pioneers of Buddhism, lies in a beautiful side valley about three miles from Tashi-cho-jong. The monks belonging to the monastery refused to recognise the first Shabdung when he came to the valley, and consequently there was strife between them. The ryots naturally sided with their old masters, the monks of Dechenphuk, but in the end the Shabdung won the day, and by his magic art summoned a terrible demon to his aid, and the ryots died off, and no one dared to take their place. Such was the local legend, and whatever the truth of the story may be, disease or oppression or other calamity has played havoc with the valley. Just before arriving at our destination we saw the monastery of Tango perched up a side valley to our right, the home of the Tango Lama, who received us so hospitably on our journey in. The camp was on a small flat, close to the river and beneath a cliff, on which is perched the Cheri Monastery, dating back to the first Dharma Raja. After lunch, in time for which the Thimbu arrived, Paul and myself went up to the gompa; but it is terribly difficult of access. To get from the lower to the higher temple it is necessary to climb very narrow rough stone steps overhanging a sheer precipice, over a projecting crag, and down other steps to the platform of the temple, which is literally clinging to the cliff. It is in bad repair, and did not repay me for the trouble of getting there, as it contained nothing of interest.
It rained most of the afternoon, and to the damp and unhealthiness of this camping-ground and the very long and wet march through drizzling rain the following day I attributed the fever with which most of my followers went down. An hour and a half’s climbing up a steep and bad path brought us to a little glade called Aitok-keng, and we continued to climb till we came to an open side valley in which was situated the small fort of Barshong, close to ​which was our camping-ground. I had an attack of fever also by this time, and was glad to go dinnerless to bed as soon as the baggage came up. On the march that day both sides of the valley were thickly wooded, only the more precipitous rocks being bare. Geographically we had now left the middle third of Bhutan, and had entered the narrow gorge which leads upwards to the plains of Tibet. From the fort our path, which throughout proved to be quite good, led gently down to the bed of the stream, the Tchin-chhu, which, with a few occasional ups and downs, we hardly left. The thick vegetation of the previous day soon ceased, and we entered a gorge almost filled by the Tchin-chhu, and bordered by stupendous cliffs of most weird shapes, amongst which El Capitano of the Yosemite Valley would be dwarfed by the lowest of these monsters. These cliffs appeared to be formed by horizontal strata of sedimentary rocks, consisting of layers of limestone, sandstone, slate or shale of a dark blue colour, and quartzites. The towering rocks were cleft in numberless places from top to bottom, leaving narrow slits or fissures which I was told were often more than a mile long. One which I photographed extends for more than two miles before it opens out in a beautiful basin and forms one of the Thimbu’s best grazing-stations.
Through scenery like this we rode for ten miles, crossing the Tchin-chhu no less than six times. At length we left the main stream, turned to the right into an open valley devoid of trees but of great width, and, ascending gently for another two miles, reached our camp at Byaradingka, a wide maidan of the highland character so often met with. On the slopes to the west we saw several flocks of burhel, but failed to bag any. The hills here consist of dark shales, which run right up to the east foot of Chomolhari, and are very similar to those met with at Khamba-jong; while the same curious concretions are also to be found here. The only gneiss I saw was that brought down by the glaciers running from Chomolhari.
​On a misty morning we rode quietly up the valley, and after an hour’s gradual ascent reached the Yakle-la (16,800 feet). The maps, I found, were completely wrong, as the pass is situated on the water-parting which separates the Thim-chhu from the Mo-chhu, the eastern slopes of Chomolhari thus draining into the Poonakha river. On the left of our path there lay a pretty dark green tarn, fed from a small snow-slope to the west of the pass, and from thence a somewhat steep descent brought us to the main stream of the Pim-nak-me-chhu, which joins the Mo-chhu near Ghassa. Following the valley for a few miles, we soon came in sight of Lingzi-jong on a hill apparently blocking the valley, but as we continued our march we discovered another ridge between us and Lingzi, round which we had to ride, ascending and descending for some way through lovely rhododendron scrub, of which at least eight different varieties were in flower. Crossing the stream, which, separates the two ridges, and which rises in some glaciers coming down from the east of Chomolhari, we again ascended the shoulder of the Lingzi spur, and, leaving the ruins of the fort on the top, found an excellent camping-ground close to a small stream. It was, on the whole, an easy march, as there was only a small quantity of snow on the north side of the pass. We saw several flocks of burhel, but could not get a shot, although my shikari was more successful and bagged two females, which were a useful addition to the supplies of my followers. We had some particularly fine views of the Chomolhari glaciers which feed the lower streams near Lingzi. We halted at Lingzi for a couple of days, and made an excursion down the valley to try and locate Ghassa, but did not succeed, as it was cloudy and drizzly weather and we could see no distance.
We also visited the ruins of Lingzi-jong, which must have once been an imposing and very strong citadel, much larger than I should have thought necessary, but the earthquake of 1897 has reduced it to a picturesque mass of ruined masonry. The Thimbu, becoming communicative, ​told me that the Tibetans were formerly inclined to be very aggressive, and as this was in reality a very vulnerable spot the Bhutanese had been obliged to maintain a large garrison both here and at Ghassa. When we reached Pheu-la he would, he said, prove his words by pointing out the ruins of a strong fort the Tibetans had built on the Bhutanese side of the pass during the former troubles with Tibet. “But now,” he added, “since we Bhutanese have openly thrown in our lot with the British, who have publicly recognised the services rendered against the Tibetans by the honour conferred on the Tongsa as representative of Bhutan, I shall rebuild the fort on a much smaller scale, just sufficiently strong to keep out cattle-lifters and suchlike. We now rely entirely on the good faith of the British Government to protect us against Tibet, should that nation try to revenge themselves on us.” This sentiment is very flattering to us, and I only hope it may never prove unfounded. He also made a very significant remark about the Tibetan indemnity. It was that the Tibetan officials had not the least objection to promising an indemnity, as if called upon to pay by our Government they would realise more than was necessary from the poor ryots, and so line their own pockets while quibbling with us about paying in full, and thus perhaps make a little over the transaction. In this camp we had some matches at stone quoit-pitching, and great sport over games with spear, or rather pointed stick quoits, at both of which the Bhutanese proved themselves adepts.
We made a leisurely start for our short march to Gangyul (13,600 feet), a little village in a narrow, flat valley close under the eastern glaciers of Chomolhari. While our camp was being got ready I rode two or three miles up the valley in the hope of seeing a remarkable cave which we were given to understand was in the locality. We found several indentations, before two of which were a gompa and a chorten, but nothing remarkable. We soon discovered, however, that our guide was much more anxious to show ​us a large flat rock of slate situated between two branches of the Tsango-chhu, at the head of which was a wooden axle, forming a rack. It was carefully explained to us that this was a holy spot on which human corpses, the head and shoulders tied to the axle to keep the body in place, were exposed, to be eaten by lammergeiers and other ravenous birds and beasts of prey. In perfectly solemn and earnest good faith we were told that the birds were fastidious and would not touch low-caste bodies, and that only three families in the valley were entitled to be thus disposed of. The Thimbu excused himself from accompanying me, as the memories connected with this spot were very painful to him, his daughter only a few years before having been laid on the slab. One of our guides lay down on the slab, while another lit a smoky fire, devices which, they said, would be sure to attract the lammergeiers from their eyries; but the deception failed, and no birds appeared. In another respect the little valley was very remarkable, as the glaciers seemed to completely close in the head, and I saw two avalanches and heard several more, caused by the increasing power of the sun’s rays on the snows.
The main glacier was most beautiful, looking like a curious broad staircase of snowy whiteness leading from where we stood heavenwards. There were several fine waterfalls gushing out from holes in the cliffs high above us, and disappearing before they reached the path, the rivulets of water oozing out again from the banks of the main stream showing that the water had resumed a subterranean course. A curious feature about the falls was that as the power of the sun increased, so did the waterfalls visibly increase in size. Our camp that night was a cheery one, and we relieved the time by learning, to the great amusement of the bystanders, to play Bhutanese backgammon, our implements being two wooden dice, a collection of little wooden sticks of varying length, and a handful of beans.
In anxious fear of the unknown pass, the Pheu or ​Lingshi-la, and its difficulties, we made a very early start along a fair bridle-path, which led us past the Tsango-chhu and then turned to the left above a small, flourishing valley, absolutely blocked at one end by a cliff extending from side to side in a perfect level, over which a very fine waterfall fell. This little valley was excellently cultivated, and had a great many large, fine fir-trees on its sides. Our path brought us at an easy gradient to the top of the cliff, which we discovered was the lower edge of another long level valley. In this way we progressed by a succession of steps, as it were, until we came to the last tread of the stairway, which was an almost precipitous slope of stone and rocks, up which our laden yaks and mules struggled slowly but surely, the zigzag, so far as alignment went, being so good that no one dismounted. Surmounting this, we came to a small roundish flat, in the centre of which were the walls, still good, of the fort built by the Tibetans and mentioned by the Thimbu. A short incline then brought us to the top of the Lingshi Pass (17,100 feet), where we had a magnificent view of the plains and hills of Southern Tibet. From this view I learnt more of the real geography of the great Kalo Hram-tsho plain than in my journey over it on the way to Lhasa the year before. The succession of lakes, amongst them the Rhum-tsho, was most clearly mapped out at my feet. To the north, in unclouded sunshine, lay a treeless, arid plain; to the south damp mists and clouds shut out all view of the verdant, wooded valleys of Bhutan.
After a short, somewhat abrupt descent, in places still covered with snow, we came on a rocky decline, which brought us, after a weary ride, to the sand-dunes of Hram, and finally to the hamlet of Hram-toi. In the evening we all dined together, with the Thimbu as our guest for the last time in the mess-tent, which I had promised to give him as a parting gift. We toasted the Thimbu and wished him the best of fortune, and had kindly answers from him in return, and on the morrow the Bhutan Mission would practically be a thing of the past. We breakfasted ​in the open, bid the Thimbu and his party a sorrowful good-bye and godspeed, and accepted from him scarves of blessing. The Tongsa Donyer, who had accompanied us everywhere throughout the whole journey, now took his leave. He was a most jovial officer, never under any circumstances put out, and ever obliging, an adept at archery and all manly games, fond of a glass but never the worse, a real Bhutanese Friar Tuck, and it was with real regret we bid him good-bye. I do not think we could possibly have had a more suitable man as our factotum, for in addition to physical qualifications he possessed a great fund of information.
A long, weary ride across sandy plains took us to the Tang-la, the monotony only broken when we missed the trail and got unexpectedly bogged. We saw several herds of gazelle and many kyang, but only succeeded in bagging a grey goose. At the top of the Tang-la my straggling caravan got divided, and the bulk proceeded to the village of Chukya, while I and the remainder kept to the main road and halted at the Chukya military encampment, so it was very late before we settled down, cold, damp, and cross. My next march brought me to Phari, ground I had already often been over, and which I have already described, so with our arrival there I will bring the account
CHAPTER XVI
AN EXPLORATION OF EASTERN BHUTAN AND A PORTION OF TIBET IN 1906
From Gangtak viâ Dewangiri to Tashigong and Tashi-yangtsi, and on to Tsekang. Horse-flies. Dorunga. Cypripedium Fairianum. Sudden rise of the river. Tigers near the camp. Chungkhar. Borshang iron-mines. Tashigong. Stick lac cultivation. Suspension bridges. Source of the Dongma-chhu. Tashi-yangtsi. Prayer-wheels. Old roads. Chorten Kara. New flowering trees.
For some years I had been extremely anxious to explore Eastern Bhutan and its neighbouring portion of Tibet, but it was not until May 1906 that circumstances enabled me to make arrangements to do so, and I left Gangtak accompanied by Mr. Dover, the State engineer. To reach Dewangiri, the point from which I intended to enter Bhutan, I had to travel to Siliguri, thence by rail to Dhubri, and on by steamer up the Brahmaputra to Gauhati, in Assam, and from thence march to the hills. I had a good deal of camp kit in addition to my personal baggage and riding-mules with me, and on reaching Gauhati preliminary arrangements took some time. Marching at the foot of the hills at this time of the year was very trying; mosquitoes swarmed at night, and the incessant croaking of frogs kept one awake; while worst of all was the plague of horse-flies, which attacked the mules, oxen, and elephants unmercifully. They were literally in swarms, and the sides of the elephants, streamed with blood from their attacks.
A little place called Dorunga lies at the foot of the hills, ​and is used as a temporary mart in the cold weather, but at this time of the year it is merely a collection of deserted thatched huts in the midst of a sea of grass, and by no means healthy, so instead of halting there I pushed on up the hills, beyond the fever zone. I had visited Dorunga a few months before in the cold weather, in the company of Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk, the Tongsa Penlop, and it had then presented a very different aspect. The place was full of bustle and movement and alive with traders from the hills, a striking contrast to its present appearance. On that occasion I entered the hills a little further to the west, at Subankhata, and accompanied Sir Ugyen for a few marches till we came to the Kuru-chhu, on the direct road to Tongsa. On this journey I came across quantities of Cypripedium Fairianum growing in masses on the magnesium limestone hills. This is the orchid of which one specimen reached England about 1860 in a consignment sent from Sikhim by Sir Joseph Hooker, but had since become extinct, and for which £1000 was offered by orchid-growers. I had been on the look-out for it for several years, and now when I did find it I was just too late, as it had been discovered during the survey of the Am-mo-chhu Valley a few months before.
At Dorunga I had a great deal of difficulty about carriage, as no arrangements had been made beforehand and I could get no coolies; however, I had four elephants, and with them and another elephant I found belonging to one of the tea-gardens, and which I impressed into my service, I started the most necessary baggage up the track to Dewangiri, leaving the remainder in charge of the Havildar till I could make arrangements from Dewangiri. Transport difficulties were augmented by the arrival of tools for road-making lent to the Tongsa by the Government of Assam, and as the store-keeper had made no arrangements for forwarding them I was obliged to take them with me. The road we had to follow was nothing but a track running up the bed of the stream, and quite ​impassable during the rains. Before I had gone very far—about two miles, perhaps—I came across various articles of baggage lying in the road, and soon found that one of the elephants had bolted and strewn the road with impedimenta. A little further on I overtook the other three elephants, and the mahouts entered into a lengthy explanation that one elephant would not go without its companions, and that in order to reload the delinquent they must all go back, and then return in one party, so I had to allow them to do as they liked, and hope they might somehow reach their destination. So much for the pleasure of elephant transport.
I pushed on ahead, and it was lucky I did so, as a severe thunderstorm came on, and the river rose to such an extent the coolies were unable to cross, and had to spend the night in the jungle on the banks, while my mule was very nearly carried off its feet by the torrent of reddish-yellow mud and water. The river rose with extraordinary rapidity, coming down in regular waves of red mud. I rode on in pouring rain to Dewangiri, and was lucky to find a good hut, which had been built in expectation of the Tongsa’s arrival earlier in the year, and as my orderly had kept up with me, carrying a bag, I was able to change into dry clothes in front of a good fire, and was none the worse for my adventure. Want of carriage kept me at Dewangiri for a day or two, and the first morning, on getting up, news was brought that one of the baggage mules was missing, and had been carried off by a tiger during the night. I went out and found that the carcase had been dragged at least 600 yards along a path through the dense jungle and then straight down the khud to the spot where I found it. Later in the day the remains of a sambur were brought in by a mahout, also killed by a tiger about half a mile from the camp, so tigers must be very plentiful just there, and sport ought to be good; but the jungle is very dense and game difficult to get at, and the hillsides are very steep, and in many places quite inaccessible. I had a machan put ​
BHUTANESE HOUSES
return, but he did not do so, at any rate before dark, and I was not inclined to wait longer for him.
From Dewangiri I moved on to Rading, and for a short distance followed a path which had been made up the left bank of the Tsokhi river; but it was a hopeless track, without any attempt at alignment, and with such steep gradients over the rocks no animals could possibly use it. At Rading I was met by the Tongsa Jongpen, whom I had met when in Bhutan with Sir Ugyen in the spring. In the morning, after a very early start, I passed the large monastery of Yong-la, near the crest of the ridge, at about 7700 feet. It was very well situated, looking out over the plains, but I did not visit it, as to do so would have taken me five or six miles out of my way. The road here was good and rideable, and brought me to Chungkhar, the residence of the Jongpen, at an elevation of 6475 feet. Going down the hills from the pass the woods were full of a pretty ground orchid, and there was some very fine timber. At Chungkhar I found a good camping-ground, with extensive views, and the snows in the distance, due north. The Jongpen was living in a temporary hut, as his house had been demolished by the earthquake of 1897, and although his new residence had been commenced it was not yet finished. He had prepared some small huts for us, which we found most comfortable and cool, and used in preference to our tents.
The mules sent by the Tongsa now arrived, the delay having been caused by the destruction of the Dongma-chhu bridge on account of an outbreak of small-pox. That is the primitive method in Bhutan of checking the disease. The wrought-iron chains of the bridge are left, but the cane roadway is cut away to prevent communication from one side to the other. I had heard of the outbreak before starting, and had brought a vaccinator with me, who set to work at once and vaccinated over a hundred people in the camp. All the villagers seemed glad to be vaccinated, and ​men, women, and children came in willingly. I also had my mules and ponies re-shod, and this afforded some amusement as well as instruction to the villagers, who had never seen the operation before, and after it was done they crowded round to examine the animals’ hoofs. There were a number of small boys smoking cigarettes, which shows that the latest vice has penetrated even into these wilds.
On leaving Chungkhar my road led straight down the hill to the Chalari-chhu, and another few hundred yards brought me to the Demri-chhu (2455 feet), where I found huts ready prepared; but it was still early, and would be exceedingly hot in the valley, so I decided to go on to Denchung, where I heard the Tashigong Jongpen was waiting.
It was a very hot ride from the Demri-chhu up the south-east face of the hill to Sari (4000 feet), on the ridge. Then the road fell again to the Tondong bridge (3000 feet), and then a very hot climb up a steep rock-face brought me to the camp at Denchung (4275 feet). The camp was a very good one, situated in the middle of woods of oak, pine, and rhododendron, with huts built for my reception and the Jongpen in waiting.
The next day’s march into Tashigong was much longer than I expected, and I was over twelve hours on the road. From the first ridge I could see the famous iron-mines of Borshang, situated in a fine valley, fairly well cultivated. The ore is reported to be both red and black and easy of extraction, and it is from this mine that the iron comes from which chains are made for the bridges in this part of Bhutan. If I had only known of this a little earlier I should have paid the mines a visit, and have no doubt I should have been well rewarded for the trouble, but it was too late to do so then.
The road took me over the Yuto-la (8300 feet), and was so narrow in many places—sometimes only six to nine inches wide—and on such a very steep hillside, that I walked most ​of the way in preference to riding even my sure-footed mule. The alignment, however, was good, and just below the Yuto-la, to the north, there were some fine downs and very good views; but these grassy uplands were infested by ticks, and it was necessary to stop frequently to pick them off the dogs, for they absolutely swarmed in hundreds, and even occasionally attacked us.
A lama who came to pay his respects proved to be unusually intelligent, and gave me a good deal of information regarding routes, &c. From the Yuto-la the road led for some way through oak and rhododendron woods, until the village of Rungthung was passed, when the last five miles wound along a bare, steep hill-slope, and I was glad to get to my destination. The latter part of the march was very hot, and the only shade to be found was behind an occasional chorten, where I sat down and drank quantities of murwa sent by the Tongsa; but the full force of the afternoon sun was very trying. At the Jong I was met by the Jongpen. The usual form of touching a wand was gone through, and I was installed in his own room.
The Jong at Tashigong is particularly well situated on a ridge between two rivers, the Dongma-chhu and the Gamdi-chhu, and is constructed after the Bhutanese fashion, with courtyards and citadels. It has a fine temple, with an unusually large pair of tusks supporting the altar, and fittings in excellent metalwork. I was lodged in the Jongpen’s own room, facing south. It was a fine, lofty room, but there was a peculiarly pungent and disagreeable smell, which I discovered came from stores of dried mutton and rancid butter kept under the floor. I asked the Jongpen to remove them, and when he had done so the surroundings were quite pleasant, as the room itself was perfectly clean. He had the skins of some very fine tigers, which he told me had been shot during the last cold weather, and that every year several tigers come up the valley and work havoc amongst the cattle, so large rewards are given for their destruction.
​With regard to the geological features of the journey, as far as the Yuto-la the strata were all quartzites, but after that mica-schist was met with in small quantities.
It was a dreadfully hot camp, but my baggage had not come up, so I was obliged to halt. I started my vaccinator at work early, and before evening he had vaccinated over two hundred people, who all seemed very pleased, and flocked in for the operation. I had sent the Tongsa a consignment of lymph from Gangtak, as he wished to introduce vaccination throughout Bhutan, and his operator met us here to be instructed what to do.
From Tashigong a road runs to the small Tibetan State of Tawang, first crossing the river Gamdi-chhu, then passing over a very steep spur, and thence to the Tawang-chhu. The Tawang-Bhutan boundary is three days’ march up the stream, at a place called Dong Shima, situated a little below the bridge by which the road crosses the river. The greater part of the trade from Tawang, which is, comparatively speaking, large, already comes by this route to the plains, and as soon as the Tongsa, as he hopes to do, makes a really good mule-track it will all follow this route to Dewangiri, and as the valleys are well populated and cultivated it is likely to increase rapidly.
There is a great deal of stick lac grown in the valley of Tashigong, but the Bhutanese do not carry on its cultivation in any systematic manner, which seems a pity, as if placed under proper supervision the industry might have a great future before it. Its culture is unusual, quite an interesting process, and only occasionally to be met with. Lac is an insect growth, and is cultivated on two distinct plants. Small pieces of lac containing colonies of the insect are placed on the stem of a shrub called Gyatso-bukshing in the autumn, and this plant is regularly cultivated and planted in rows in fields on the hillsides. In the spring these growths, which have meanwhile spread a few inches over the stem of the plant, are cut off and placed on the branches of a tree called Gyatso-shing. On these trees during the ​summer it spreads rapidly over all the branches, and the crop is gathered in the autumn. With the present want of system there are no plantations for the purpose, and the cultivator has to depend on any trees he may find growing wild in the jungles, which is, of course, a hopeless method, whereas if proper plantations were made it would facilitate not only the collection and save time and labour, but also increase the output. It is a paying crop, but can only be grown in these hot, dry valleys.
It was my original intention to follow the route viâ Tawang and the Dozam-la to Lhakhang, but the Government of India did not wish me to enter that part of Tibet. I therefore had to abandon it and go round by a longer and more difficult route. Another route, the direct one, along a road running from Tashigong along the right bank of the river, and said to be fit for mules and ponies, is a very easy one, and by it I could, I believe, have reached Lhakhang in five or six days; but this also took me into prohibited country, and had to be abandoned.
From Tashigong a very steep descent of about 1100 feet took us down to the iron suspension bridge over the Dongma-chhu. These suspension bridges in Bhutan are very interesting, and merit description. They consist of four or five chains of wrought iron, made of welded links, each fifteen to eighteen inches in length. The three lower chains are tightened up to one level, and on them a bamboo or plank roadway is placed. The remaining chains, hanging higher up and further apart, act as side supports, and between them and the roadway there is generally a latticework of bamboo, or sometimes grass, in order that animals crossing may not put their legs over the side. The roadway is never more than three or four feet wide. Many of the chains on these bridges are extremely old—many hundreds of years—and appear to be of Chinese workmanship. The links are in excellent order, and very little pitted with rust. The other and newer chain bridges have been made in Bhutan.
​After crossing the ridge the road wound along the hillside some distance above the river till we came to a place called Gom Kora. Here there is a very curious little temple, with a prayer-wall completely surrounding a large stone, which has a curious water-worn hole through its centre. It is considered extremely holy, and to crawl into the small hole and out at the other side is an act of merit. Needless to say, that act of merit is not placed to my credit, though the more devout of my servants and followers performed it before being regaled by the Tomsha-Tungba.
A little further on the Dongma-chhu was left on the right, and the road, crossing the Kholung-chhu by a cantilever bridge, climbed a very steep ridge to the camp at Serpang (6450 feet). The Dongma-chhu is here a very large river, much bigger than the Kholung-chhu, and probably as big if not bigger than the Kuru-chhu, running swiftly and carrying much silt. It takes its rise in a range of snow-mountains a long way to the east, beyond Tawang. In this camp also people crowded to be vaccinated, and to be treated for various diseases. I did what I could, and Mr. Dover was indefatigable in dispensing medicines, but it would have made a very great difference if I had had a doctor with me.
The road on to Tashi-yangtsi wound round the side of the hill, covered with oak and rhododendron, and the march was very beautiful, though a short one. The Jong of Tashi-yangtsi (5900 feet) is situated on a sharp spur between the Kholung and Dongdi rivers, with a very pretty view looking up the valley. In the river, with its beautiful pools and numbers of fish, there ought to be some good fishing. It ran, in places, in deep, silent reaches, very rare in any Himalayan river, with the trees overhanging and dipping in the water, much more like a river in-Scotland, with a very gradual fall, and the water a beautiful blue colour. A feature of the march was the number of water-driven prayer-wheels, most of them in a state of picturesque ​decay, and only a few still in working order. For the benefit of my readers who are unacquainted with this practice, the following is a short description. A prayer-wheel consists of a hollow cylinder filled with written or printed prayers, and fixed to a perpendicular shaft of wood, to the lower end of which horizontal flappers are attached, against which water is directed from a shoot; the end is shod with iron, and revolves in an iron socket driven by the force of the stream. With each revolution the prayers are believed to be prayed for the benefit of the builder of that particular wheel, and count so much to his credit. They are very easily kept in order, but probably because only construction, and not preservation, is a work of merit in the Buddhist religion, no one seems to take the trouble to clear out the watercourses or to mend a broken flapper, and consequently most of them were at a standstill. It is a delightfully easy method of praying, and some enormous wheels have been erected. One at Lamteng, in the Lachen Valley, in Sikhim, contains no less than four tons of printed paper, and measures about 9 feet in height by 4½ feet in diameter; but these very large ones are seldom worked by water-power, and generally have a crank on the lever end of the shaft, which any one anxious to pray has only to turn, while a bell sounding automatically at each revolution records the number of prayers repeated. Every monastery throughout Sikhim has a row of prayer-wheels at the entrance to the temple, and as every true Buddhist passes he twirls each cylinder in turn with the ejaculation, “Om mani padmi hum.”
The road along which we were travelling had evidently at one time been well made and properly aligned, although it had been allowed to go out of repair. It must have been cut to four or five feet in width, and well graded also, but though all agreed that it had been made a very long time ago, no one could tell me when. My own opinion is that it was probably built by one of the old Rajas who once reigned in these valleys, and of whom some historical ​records remain in the manuscripts I found dealing with the reign of the Sindhu Raja of Pumthang, and have mentioned elsewhere. This march throughout was a great contrast to the last, as it was entirely through cultivated land, with small collections of houses, two or three together, not large enough to form villages. All the crops looked excellent, especially the wheat and barley; the country was thickly populated, and the inhabitants flourishing and well fed. I saw one iron-impregnated stream.
There is an easy and good trade route which runs from Tashi-yangtsi over the Ging-la to Donkhar, where it joins the route from Tashigong and Tawang and Tshona, and this is a good deal used by traders in the cold months. My shortest route was by a road branching off one day’s march up the valley, and running over the hills to Singhi-jong, but I was told it was very difficult and neither ponies nor mules could be taken over it, and also that snow was lying on the pass. In consequence of this report, I decided to proceed viâ the Dongo-la, and to branch off near Lhuntsi-jong and follow the valley leading from there to Singhi-jong, if I could not get up the valley of the Kuru-chhu. While at Tashi-yangtsi I visited Chorten Kara. It is a fine specimen, and is built partly on the lines of the big chorten at Khatmandu, but, like everything else, has its origin in an unknown past. Near the chorten there were some terraced paddy- and rice-fields of a fair size, on which ploughing and sowing were in full swing, and some large villages, and in spite of the clouds snow-capped hills appeared every now and then up the valley to the right.
The road on to Lhuntsi took me up a side valley through jungle the whole way, and I camped the first night at Wangtung (10,000 feet), at the level of silver pine, on a ground so cramped that I was obliged to cut several trees down to admit some light and air; and as it was also pouring with rain and very cold it was altogether miserable and uncomfortable. The morning broke very wet, but it ​cleared a little, enabling me to get to the top of the first pass, the Shalaptsa-la (12,000 feet), without rain. On the west side of the pass I crossed the head-waters of the Sheru-chhu, and going about half a mile further on a fairly level road, reached the Bogong-la, where I crossed the watershed of the Kuru-chhu. This double pass is known as the Dong-la. It rained hard whilst I was crossing the pass, and for some distance down the other side, where for some miles the road was as bad as it was possible to be. It then ran over some good downs, but ended in a dripping forest, with deep mud under foot the whole distance down to Singhi (6225 feet).
At Singhi I was met by the Jongpen, and stayed in a house built on a steep hillside, with some fine walnut-trees in front and a lovely view down the valley. I held a conference which lasted over two hours as to the best way to get to Lhakhang-jong, but it was very difficult to elicit any information, or even to get an answer to a simple question. I wanted to march up the Kuru-chhu, but found that would be impossible, as the season was too far advanced, and the temporary bridges, erected during the cold weather, had all been carried away by the early rains. After much discussion I learnt that there were tracks on both sides of the river, though both were reported bad and quite impassable for mules or ponies, the one viâ Singhi-jong as we should have to cross a glacier, and the other on account of precipitous rocks. It seemed rather hopeless, but I finally decided to try the Singhi-jong route on foot and to send my mules and ponies, as well as Sir Ugyen’s, along a road running from Singhi, on the left bank of the Kuru-chhu, to the Kuru Sampa, and round viâ Bya-gha-jong, from whence they would cross the Monla-Kachung-la and meet me at the Lhalung Monastery.
After a very wet night I got away in fairly fine weather, and went down a very steep descent to the Kuru-chhu (4100 feet), and then for some distance along the road on the left bank, over which the mules would go, but, owing ​to there being no bridge over the Khoma-chhu, I had to climb up and down an unnecessary 1400 feet. Leaving the Kuru-chhu, I branched off from Pemberton’s route, going north, while his led across the river and down its right bank; then, passing the village of Khoma, an exceedingly steep ascent brought me to Pangkha, where I lodged in the Angdu-phodang Donyer’s house.
From the village of Nyalamdung, on the way, I had a good view of Lhuntsi-jong, standing on the right bank of the Kuru-chhu. The Jong is, as usual, built on a fine spur between two rivers, and is a large fort with two towers, but I did not visit it, as it was at least six miles out of my way. The Jongpen was much disappointed that I would not stay some days with him, but I had news that the Tongsa had already started from Bya-gha to meet me at Lhakhang, and I did not wish to keep him waiting. All the same, it took me a couple of days to get my coolies together, as they had to carry food for five, or six days along with them. The Donyer’s house, in which I lodged, was perched on the side of a steep hill, and on leaving it one was obliged to go either straight up or straight down, so I remained a good deal indoors. Every square yard of ground round the village had been made the most of, and all of it was terraced, manured, and well cultivated, to get the best possible crop off it.
From Pangkha I crossed the Ye-la, a mere spur, and had to descend again 3000 feet to the Khoma-chhu, which I had left only a few days before. While on the descent I saw for the first time some very fine flowering trees called, in Bhutanese, Chape and Phetsi, which were very handsome. The blossom somewhat resembles a large tea-flower, and they bear an edible fruit, which is gathered in August. This is the only place where I have come across
CHAPTER XVII
AN EXPLORATION OF EASTERN BHUTAN AND A PORTION OF TIBET IN 1906—continued
From Tsekang to Lhakhang-jong, Lhalung Monastery and Pho-mo-chang-thang Lake to Gyantse. Crossing the Bod-la between Bhutan and Tibet. Riding yaks. Welcome in Tibet. Meeting with Sir Ugyen. Wild gooseberries. Old gold-workings. Friendliness of Tibetans. Lhakhang-jong. Tuwa-jong. Dekila, widow of Norbu Sring. Lhalung Monastery. Ovis ammon. Source of the Nyeru-chhu.
I camped at Tsekang in rain, and next day marched up the valley of the Khoma through dense jungle. I had intended to reach Singhi-jong, but it was too far, so I halted at Tusum Mani (10,900 feet), amongst pines and larches, on the only level place I could find. The weather cleared up a little towards evening, and I was able to see that up the stream to the north the valley was blocked by snow-hills, with glaciers running down their sides, but mist prevented me from seeing anything more. Next day was fine, and I had a beautiful ride to Singhi-jong, a very small fort, hardly worthy of the name, but well situated on a large flat, with fine snow views ail round. I did not stay there, but went on through the valley to Narim-thang (13,900 feet), about four miles from the Kang-la (16,290 feet). I would have liked to camp at the foot of the pass, but there was no firewood so high, and the want of it would have entailed much extra work for the coolies. The morning broke rather threateningly, but by making an early start and riding as far as the lake below the pass, ​beyond which pack-animals cannot go, I succeeded in crossing before the snow began to fall. It was a stiff climb up the east side, and equally difficult going down for 1500 feet through snow, and then over a small glacier on the west. The Kang-la is the watershed, but not the boundary, between Bhutan and Tibet. Further on the road first led down to a stream, then up again, and round a spur leading into another valley, up which we marched for some miles, and just before reaching our camping-ground, at Metsephu (15,300 feet), we passed a fine lake. It rained heavily part of the way, but cleared up as we pitched our tents, and then later began to snow heavily—so heavily the tents had to be beaten and shaken at intervals to prevent their collapse. It was a cold and cheerless evening, but the snow ceased early and the night was clear, while the morning broke beautifully fine. We reached the Bod-la (16,290 feet), and crossed the boundary between Bhutan and Tibet early, and the coolies soon made their appearance, even carrying the heavy frozen tents. A Tibetan block-house, with loopholed walls, was built on the top of the pass. There were some fine views of the snow-peaks to the east, and after admiring them I started down the descent on the Tibetan side. It was a very tiresome march, over huge rocks covered with snow, and at the foot of the pass I was delighted to find yaks and coolies waiting for me, brought by the head of the nearest Tibetan village and a representative from the Lhakhang-jong, which is also in Tibet. I was tired, and it was very pleasant riding down on one of the yaks. Though slow, they are very sure-footed, and carried me most comfortably over some very steep slopes, but in one place I came to a flat rock, sloping at an angle of about 45 degrees, with nothing but a two-inch crack in the rock for the animal to find a foothold on, and I really could not face it, and dismounted and walked over, although my driver assured me there was no danger, and probably I should have been just as safe on the yak as on my own feet. On reaching a flat lower down I found both ​
LHALUNG MONASTERY
the Tibetans, and also a message asking me to delay my arrival at Lhakhang until my camp there was prepared, so a few miles further on I pitched my tents in a beautiful glade in the midst of pines, larches, and aspens. The valley we passed through was a fine one, and the walk beautiful, with magnificent cliffs on the north side for the whole distance, nearly, if not quite, as high as those on the route above Tashi-cho-jong which I had traversed the year before on my way through Bhutan. After descending some thousands of feet we came into forests of black juniper, and below that silver pine and larch. The climate, too, was drier. The view looking down the valley across into Tibet was very fine, the hills there showing up rugged and bare, without a tree, although distant only about three miles as the crow flies, so sharp is the line dividing the wet and the dry zones.
The orderlies in charge of the yaks the Tongsa had sent took the greatest care of me whilst going over the bad places on the road, holding me on as though they were afraid I might fall off. In camp I got a letter from Sir Ugyen to say he had arrived in Lhakhang that day, and hoped to meet me in the morning.
While making my way to the Jong the following day the Jongpen met me with eggs and milk and the headman of the village with chang. At the Jong itself Sir Ugyen was waiting, and I found my camp pitched in a grove of poplars and willows, while the Jongpen had pitched his own tent for me and made all preparations for my comfort. It was a very great pleasure to meet Sir Ugyen again, and we had much to talk over and discuss.
I had hardly expected to receive such a hearty reception in Tibet, but every one vied with one another in trying to make me comfortable and in doing everything they could for me. It was most gratifying, and proved beyond dispute that the Tibetans bore no ill-will on account of the Lhasa Expedition, and also that they were genuinely ​pleased to see me personally. I am quite sure, notwithstanding the general opinion to the contrary, that, could the physical difficulties be overcome, there would be but little opposition shown by Tibetans generally to any one travelling in their country, so long as the immediate vicinity of Lhasa was avoided, and provided the traveller had some previous knowledge of and sympathy with the Tibetan character and that he was known to them.
Had the opportunity been taken advantage of, on the conclusion of the Lhasa Treaty, to allow a few of our own picked officers to travel in Tibet, any opposition would have died a natural death, as it existed only amongst certain members of the priestly hierarchy and the higher officials in Lhasa. The common people invariably welcomed our advent, and openly expressed the hope that they were to come under our jurisdiction. Our Government, instead of making the most of so unique an opening, has, by the most incomprehensible regulations and orders, emanating from London, raised an insuperable barrier against any fellow countrymen who may desire to travel in Tibet, while foreigners, whom they are powerless to keep out, are given every possible assistance and help. Hence, notwithstanding the vast expenditure of money, the heavy loss of life, and the many hardships endured by the Lhasa Mission of 1904, Tibet has again become an absolutely closed country to all Englishmen. In addition, Government’s unfortunate subsequent policy has been the means of handing over the Tibetans, bound hand and foot, to the Chinese, and all Tibetan officials are now obliged by their virtual masters, the Chinese, to enforce the Chinese traditional policy of exclusion of all Europeans.
Up to now I had been unaware that wild gooseberries were to be found in the Himalayas, but on this march I came across them for the first time, higher up in flower and lower down in fruit. The people eat the fruit, but I fancy it would be very sour, and not like the small wild yellow gooseberry found in Scotland.
​Accompanied by the Tongsa, I visited the Karchu Monastery, which is situated on a very picturesque ridge overlooking the gorge where the Kuru-chhu commences to cut its way through the Himalayas, but beyond a very good view of Kulu-Kangri there was nothing much to be seen.
I also visited some hot springs, and near them some old gold-diggings, which were said to have been worked as recently as twelve years before my visit by the late Jongpen, who imported workmen from Tod, in Tibet, for the purpose. They were situated in an old river-bed, and are now quite abandoned, and I should think very unlikely to be worth making any future attempt to develop. I washed some of the sand, but found nothing.
Lhakhang-jong is a very dilapidated building, very dirty, and worth nothing either as a residence or a place of defence, and of no interest. The Khomthing Lhakhang, or temple, is also very uninteresting, although it had one curious feature. In one of the rooms a large apricot-tree grew through the roof, and was called for some reason, though why I could not make out, the “Mermaid Tree.” But in the monastery itself there was nothing.
The fields round the fort were brilliant with the delicate green of young corn, just beginning to sprout, and the hedges were full of wild roses and pink and white spirea, while between the fields were planted lines of apricot-trees full of blossom, making a lovely picture. The crop of fruit is so plentiful that, in addition to carrying on a large trade in dried fruit, the people feed their cattle on apricots in winter; but those I tasted were not very appetising.
With all this beauty the climate of Lhakhang is abominable; situated at the mouth of the Kuru gorge, a cold, damp, violent wind never ceases blowing, while the sun at the same time is extremely hot; but even with this disadvantage the two days’ rest was very welcome. The export trade consists chiefly, in addition to dried apricots, of dried mutton, sheep-skins, wool, and salt, while rice, madder, and stick lac are imported from Bhutan.
​A good road through the Kuru Valley would be sure soon to become a popular trade route, as it would be a direct outlet from Tibet to the plains, with no snow-passes to cross, and from Lhakhang onwards to Tibet the present road is reported to be very easy. The few miles I traversed were broad and much used. The section between Lhuntsi and Lhakhang would be very difficult to negotitate, as it passes through an immense gorge, which would require a great deal of blasting as well as bridging; and as things have now turned out, it is very unlikely such a road will be made for many generations, if ever, though at the time of my visit it was still within the range of possibility that the Governments of India and Tibet would co-operate to improve trade routes between the two empires.
Roads already run from Lhakhang to Nagartsi and Chetang, across country in which there is said to be much good grazing and many flocks of sheep, and consequently there should be a quantity of wool to be bought. The route from Tawang also taps this country.
After leaving Lhakhang I crossed the two branches of the Kuru-chhu just before they enter, as one stream, the mouth of this magnificent gorge. The road wound along the side of the hills some thousand feet above the river, and was in some places very pretty, with hedges of yellow and red roses, spirea, gooseberry and currant-bushes, apricot-trees, and a sort of blackthorn, but for the greater part it was uninteresting. The villagers en route turned out to meet me, and burnt incense, and at Dur they had a tent pitched for my lunch, and presented me with chang, the native liquor, milk, and eggs. I camped at Mug (11,650 feet), in a grove of poplars, where a second messenger arrived from the Tongsa’s sister with another letter of welcome and more rice, eggs, and butter.
From this village a road branches off over the Monla-Kachung-la Pass to Bya-gha, but my way led me to Singhi-jong, still in Tibet. A very hard march took me first down to the river, some thousand feet below camp, and ​
TUWA-JONG
feet in the full glare of the sun; then down again to a side stream, and again up to Myens-la (14,800 feet), and at last to my camp, pitched in a small side valley at Tashichukar (14,480 feet). I found the sun very trying climbing the southern slopes, but on reaching camp it clouded over, and the afternoon was wet and windy and very cold—the coldest camp I had yet been in on this expedition.
Singhi-jong is a deserted fort in ruins, situated on a fine rock, and the Jongpen does not live there, but prefers a house at its foot less pretentious and more comfortable. He was an old acquaintance of mine, whom I had met in Lhasa, where he was the official who issued rations to the Mission camp. About a year before my visit he had been transferred to Singhi, where I now met him. We had to change transport here; but everything was in readiness, so it did not take long. I had a fine view of some high snows looking up the valley on leaving Singhi-jong.
The Tibetans were not nearly so ready to be vaccinated as the Bhutanese, probably because there had been no recent outbreak of small-pox, and very few came forward, while in Bhutan the numbers already done had reached 800. From Tashichukar I made a long march and pushed right on to Lhalung, the Bhutan monastery, passing Tuwa-jong on the way. The road took me first straight down to the river, a descent of 2400 feet, and then straight up the other side in short zigzags, which were very trying. It then wound round the hillside for some distance and again dropped down to the stream at Tuwa-jong (13,000 feet). If I had only been a little earlier in the season all these ups and downs might have been avoided, as during the winter there is a path along the bed of the stream; but the glaciers had begun to melt, and the rivers were consequently in flood, so it was impracticable.
Tuwa-jong I found to be a fine building, in Tibetan style, with the fort on the top of a very steep rock, and ​the monastery below, also a fine building. The Tibetan and Bhutanese Jongs have a general resemblance in their architecture, particularly remarkable in the slope given to the walls, but in detail are not very similar. In Bhutan the courtyards are much larger, and the lavish use of timber gives the buildings a different aspect, especially the sloping shingle roofs invariably used there, whereas in Tibet the roofs are generally flat. The Tuwa buildings are all quite new, as they were rebuilt after the earthquake of 1897. A little before reaching the Jong we found a tent pitched, and the Nerpa, or steward, of the Jongpen waiting with refreshments. He was very anxious that I should break my journey at Tuwa, and the same request was renewed when I reached the Jong by the Jongpen and the lamas, but I told them that, if possible, and if they could make the necessary arrangements for transport, I was anxious to reach Lhalung that day. They had a camp pitched ready below the building, in a side valley, out of the wind, in a charming, fresh green garden, and the invitation was very tempting, and I should have been glad to give pleasure to my kindly hosts, but I could not manage it. All I could do was to stop and partake of the refreshments they had provided while the transport was being changed, and the arrangements were so good that by the time we had finished luncheon all the loads had gone on. I can only repeat again that I received nothing but the most unvarying kindness and attention from every one throughout my journey in this part of Tibet, and that every pains was taken, by officials and villagers alike, to make things easy and comfortable for me; and at no time, during the years I have served on the frontier, when I have been brought into contact with Tibetans, have I had any discourtesy shown me.
I was told that Dekila, the widow of Norbu Sring, is still imprisoned at Tuwa-jong, but as I only heard this at Lhalung I had no opportunity of making inquiries or trying to see her. Norbu Sring was brother to the late ​Tengay-Ling, Regent of Tibet. Tengay-Ling was accused of practising sorcery on the Delai Lama, and consequently seized, and later put to death, while his brother, Norbu Sring, a layman, was also cruelly killed. His widow, Dekila, who was famous throughout Tibet for her beauty, and is a member of the highly respectable Doring family of Lhasa, and some relation to the Maharani of Sikhim, was arrested on the same charge, and, after being cruelly scourged through Lhasa, was condemned to imprisonment for life in Tuwa-jong. She is said to be even now in chains in a cell on the outskirts of the Jong, and had I known beforehand I should have made an effort to see the unfortunate woman and ascertain if nothing could be done for her. The man who volunteered this information had heard of the release of several State prisoners, and especially of the cases of my Lachung men and the friend of Sarat Chunder Das, during the Lhasa Expedition, and seemed to think the Indian Government might extend a helping hand; but I am afraid the only, and very unlikely, chance for the poor lady might have been my personal influence with the Jongpen; and even then he was responsible to the authorities at Lhasa for her safe custody, and could not, I fear, on his own initiative have done anything for her.
About two miles below Tuwa-jong the valley opens out; so far it is a deep-cut gorge, impossible to traverse except during the winter months, when temporary bridges are thrown across the stream which save many miles in actual distance and many thousands of feet in ascent and descent, but of course at this time of the year I had to follow the longer route. On leaving the Jong the road runs along the bottom of the valley—cultivated wherever water can be found for irrigation, but elsewhere a typical Tibetan valley, an arid wilderness of stone and sand, hot, bare, and dusty, with a howling wind always blowing, making it very unpleasant. The ride up this unprepossessing valley in the face of the afternoon sun was a ​hot one, but I was well repaid by the reception I received at Lhalung, where I was met by the Tulku, or Avatar, a nephew of Sir Ugyen’s, and the monks and headmen of Lhalung. They conducted me to a charming camp, pitched in the monastery gardens, where it was pleasant to sit on the grass in the cool shade of the willows, out of the glare, and sheltered from the violence of the wind by the high wall surrounding the garden. It was a dehghtful place in which to rest and do nothing, and at the urgent request of Sir Ugyen I remained with him for two days, taking photographs of the buildings and of the Tulku and others, and receiving deputations from the Jongpen of Tuwa-jong, the Avatar and the lamas of Lhalung, as well as the headmen of these places. One day the Tulku entertained me at lunch, and afterwards we witnessed a Tibetan dance which was quite new to me. Most of the performers wore very little clothing—quite a new experience, as in all the Tibetan dances I have seen the dancers are rather overburdened with heavy garments. I also spent much of my time with the Tongsa, discussing the affairs of Bhutan and talking over his projects for improvements, roads, developments, &c., all very interesting subjects; and I often wonder now how he is carrying out all his schemes, and wish I had been able to set him a little further on the road towards their accomplishment before my retirement. At Sir Ugyen’s request I left the vaccinator to accompany him to Bya-gha, and then to travel through Bhutan before returning to Sikhim. I also left my plant-collector, as it was still too early in the season to find plants or flowers in the high plateaux of Tibet. He made a very good collection of plants, both on this occasion and when he accompanied me on the first Bhutan Mission, and they were duly forwarded to the Botanical Gardens in Calcutta, but up to the present date I have had no news of any classification having been made. The delay seems regrettable, as there may have been some new and interesting plants among them. I certainly saw ​
INTERIOR OF LHALUNG MONASTERY
valley and hill has been thoroughly explored.
The following day I continued my journey up the valley, and camped at Lung, passing en route the Guru Lhakhang, a very old building, surrounded by ancient poplars, but in itself uninteresting. On this march I discovered that the main stream of the Monass takes its rise in the great amphitheatre of snow-mountains, averaging 24,000 feet in height, round Kulu-Kangri. It rises from some large glaciers, and is exceedingly muddy, the water a thick yellowish-red colour. At Lyateoh, where my transport was changed, the main valley turned to the west, although the river containing by far the most water came in from the south. The quantity of silt brought down is very great, and shows what enormous disintegration is in progress. I was particularly struck by the number of ruined villages I passed on this march.
In the hills round Lung there is some fine ovis ammon ground, and I saw several large flocks. They were extraordinarily tame, and allowed me to walk, across the open, to within thirty or forty yards, and then only moved slowly away. I first saw them from my bed. I awoke early, and on looking out I saw eight grazing on the hillside not half a mile away. They have never been shot at, which accounts for their tameness.
A path from Lung, used by yaks and their drivers, leads over the snow to the head-waters of the branches of the Mo-chhu, and is said not to be a very difficult one. My route, however, took me up the valley and over the Ta-la Pass (17,900 feet), the watershed between India and the Pho-mo-chang-thang Lake basin, which has no outlet, then along high, rolling downs, and, after passing three small lakes, came to the large plain at the head of the Pho-mo-chang-thang Lake itself. The lake appears to be receding to a certain extent, and I think probably this is chiefly owing to the large quantities of silt brought ​down by an unnamed river from the glaciers, and its consequent filling up on the west side. We crossed the plain in a violent hailstorm, and camped in the middle of it on a bare and exposed yak station called Sagang, in sight of the lake. The Tongsa accompanied me to the top of the pass, where he took his leave, presenting me with scarves of different colours, a pretty custom which is both picturesque and at the same time expressive of the most cordial good feeling.
From the downs at Sagang I had a clear view of the snow-hills which form the boundary between Bhutan and Tibet, with the country to the north of the hills clearly to be seen and the courses of the rivers quite plainly visible. Fortunately, some of the dopkas (yak herdsmen) had pitched tents, which were most welcome, as there was a very strong, cold wind blowing, and, the march having been a long one, our things did not arrive till late. En route we saw some ovis ammon, but did not shoot any. We had to cross the large river which takes its rise on the north of the snows forming the boundary between Bhutan and Tibet and runs into the west end of the lake, and had some difficulty in finding a ford, as the bed was full of quicksands, but eventually a herdsman showed us one, and also told us there were only two places at which it could be crossed in safety. This man came from a very large encampment of herdsmen, who had hundreds of yaks and a few sheep in their care. They were extremely hospitable, spread carpets for us to sit on, and gave us fresh milk and Tibetan tea, as well as parched barley. It was a curious sight to watch the milking of the yaks, the method being, to say the least of it, peculiar, and one I had not seen or heard of elsewhere in Tibet.
I made a very early start from Sagang, and after climbing 600 feet came to the watershed between the lake basin and the Nyeru-chhu. These hills are nearly all rounded, with very few precipices, and are evidently much frequented by both ovis ammon and burhel, for I saw numerous fine ​heads lying about. The natives explained this by saying that in winter wolves attack and kill the males, who in consequence of the weight of their heavy horns cannot get quickly over the ground and out of reach. From the ridge I followed a stream which took me the whole way to the Nyeru Valley, but which is not marked on the map Ryder made at the time of the Lhasa Mission. This may be accounted for by the very narrow gorge through which it passes on entering the valley. The Bhutan boundary runs right up to the head of the Nyeru Valley, and from Nelung the Wagya-la, over which there is a trade route to Bhutan, can be seen. We had a long, weary march across a flat plain in hail and rain before reaching Nelung, where tents had fortunately been pitched by the headman, and very welcome they were, as all our things did not come up till past eight o’clock, and it continued to rain and blow hard nearly all night, though it was fairly fine towards morning.
I discovered that the Nyeru-chhu takes its rise in the high snows not far from the source of the Kuru-chhu. It breaks through the dividing ridge between the lake basin and the Nyeru Valley under the snow, and then takes a right-angle bend to the north and comes down past Nyeru.
All the valleys I have seen to the north of the watershed—viz., from Eastern Bhutan to some distance west of Sikhim—appear to have at some remote period been much more densely populated than at present. At every turn I came on ruins of habitations and remains of old irrigation channels; and overcrowding may possibly account for this migration over the Himalayas into the comparatively hot valleys of Bhutan, in which no Tibetan would willingly settle, though he might be forced by circumstances to do so. This also raises the interesting question of the former climate of these parts. I think there is no doubt that there must have been considerably more rain, and everything appears to support this view—the receding ​glaciers and diminishing streams, also the fact that all the lakes in this part of Tibet show a large amount of contraction, and to all appearances are still decreasing. On the Yam-dok-tsho several distinct old shores can be traced running round the lake, some quite sixty feet above the present lake level. Pho-mo-chang-thang, Kala-tsho, Bam-tsho, and Rhum-tsho are all drying up. What is the cause of this? Is it the gradual elevation of the Himalayas, shutting out the monsoon current, or has the monsoon current itself diminished? The migration southward might also be accounted for by diminished rainfall, the people being no longer able to support themselves and their cattle on the produce of the land, and being obliged to seek new and more productive country.
It is a very interesting subject, but requires more time and research to be devoted to it than I have been able to give.
At Nelung I lost one of my favourite mules, Kitty, whom I had had for many years, and who had served me well. She must have contracted a chill crossing in the hail, for soon after reaching camp she was taken ill with colic, and nothing I could do was of any use, and she died during the night.
From Nelung my route took me over an easy pass to the Phari-Gyantse road. At Gyantse I spent a few days making a visit of inspection to Bailey, the officiating British Trade Agent and my Assistant Political Officer. The post is a lonely and isolated one, and the work was none too pleasant, owing to the attitude of the Chinese, who did all in their power to be obstructive, and used every possible means to prevent the Tibetans having any direct intercourse with us; but things on the whole were fairly satisfactory. From Gyantse I returned by the ordinary route to Chumbi, and thence to Gangtak, thus
CHAPTER XVIII
MY SECOND MISSION TO BHUTAN
Severe weather. Shau. A frozen torrent. Dug-gye-jong. A visit to Paro Ta-tshang Monastery. Sang-tog-peri. Paro-jong burnt down. Arrival at Poonakha. The Tongsa’s band.
My second mission to Bhutan was undertaken at the invitation of Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk to be present as his guest and as representative of the British Government at his installation as Hereditary Maharaja of Bhutan.
I left Gangtak on November 25, 1907, accompanied by Major Rennick, of the Intelligence Branch, and Mr. Wilton, C.M.G., of His Majesty’s Consular Service. Mr. Campbell, my Assistant Political Officer, I had sent on ahead to Chumbi to make arrangements for coolies and transport, and Captain Hyslop, who was accompanying me at the special request of Sir Ugyen, had not yet arrived, and was to follow, making forced marches in order to catch us up.
I travelled over the usual route viâ Karponang and Chongu, and arrived without any misadventure the third day in Chumbi, where I halted. Several days were occupied in arranging for the escort, which consisted of twenty-five men of the 62nd Punjabis, under a native officer, a hospital assistant, and the usual following of dooly-bearers, &c.
Unfortunately I contracted a chill, and was obliged to remain in bed for a few days, so I sent Campbell on with ​the escort and heavy baggage to Phari, and Hyslop having by this time arrived, we left Chumbi on December 2. Rennick and I went straight to Gautsa, while Wilton and Hyslop camped at Lingmathang in hopes of getting a shau of which my shikari had brought us news. It was a very cold day when we started, with the thermometer at zero and the high wind that always blows up the valley, and this shortly turned into a veritable hurricane, so the two in tents had a bad night of it. The wind was so strong they could hardly keep the tent standing; they were nearly frozen; and, worst of all, after having undergone all these discomforts, they could see no sign of the shau, although my orderly, Purboo, said he caught a glimpse of one close to the camp. The shau which the shikari reported having seen was apparently a magnificent specimen, with splendid horns, and was known to many natives by a small white patch on its forehead. I should very much have liked to stay and stalk him, but I had no time for such pleasures, and had to forego a chance I shall not have again.
Wilton returned to India from Lingmathang, as he was obliged to meet some Chinamen in Calcutta, and Hyslop came on by himself to rejoin us in the bungalow at Gautsa, where we were waiting for him. He found the road very bad and difficult, as the wind had covered it with the trunks of fallen trees.
We in the bungalow had not fared much better than the men in tents. We were a good deal higher, and the cold—26° below zero—was so intense that the river, usually a roaring torrent, was frozen absolutely solid during the night, and there was not a sound of water to be heard. It was very curious to listen to it gradually becoming less and less until it finally became silent. All our provisions in the bungalow, milk, tea, meat even, were frozen solid, and no fire would thaw them; no water was to be had, only chunks of ice; and it was almost impossible to keep warm. The wind was still blowing a hurricane, and the ​
INTERIOR OF DUG-GYE-JONG
stand against the force of the wind and the bitter cold, so we were perforce obliged to remain where we were and listen to the wind roaring through the trees.
Such a huricane was unknown so low in the valley, and the mule-men said they had never witnessed anything like it. Fortunately the storm was unaccompanied by snow, for the sky was clear and the sun shining all the time; otherwise I think it would really have been unbearable. To add to our misfortunes, Rennick had gout, and the cold did him no good.
The next morning the wind had dropped, and we marched across the plain, meeting the Katzog Kazi on the way, to Phari, where the Jongpen received us, in perfect weather, in brilliant sunshine, which in sheltered places was almost hot.
At Phari, Bailey, my assistant from Gyantse, was waiting to see me, and Morgan, of the 62nd, who had taken on the escort, was also there, and, with Campbell, we made a large gathering in the Dak bungalow. We left Phari on December 5, our party finally consisting of myself, Rennick, Hyslop, Campbell, Rai Lobzang Chöden Sahib, my confidential clerk, twenty-five sepoys of the 62nd, with three pipers and two drummers under a native officer, and 264 loads of baggage, in addition to a string of our own ponies and mules, personal servants and dooly-bearers. It sounds a large quantity of baggage, but what with presents and rations for the escort, it soon mounted up.
The day was beautiful, and we very soon reached the Temo-la (16,500 feet), about three miles from Phari, and the boundary between Tibet and Bhutan. The view from the summit of the pass looking into Bhutan was a very fine one. Our road took us over a fairly easy gradient for a few miles, and then in a sheltered little valley I was met by the Dug-gye Jongpen and a party of men with messages from Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk welcoming my party to Bhutan. The Jongpen had brought his band ​of drums, gongs, and cymbals with him, and they played whilst we were partaking of the refreshments he had provided for us. For a short distance further on the road was not so bad, but we then entered a very rocky gorge, down which the path led in a series of short zigzags, and was practically a rough stair, with enormous steps from rock to rock. It was exceedingly bad going both for ourselves and the mules, and was quite unrideable.
Rennick, who could hardly put foot to the ground, was carried on the back of a Bhutanese orderly, with two or three men to help, and as he weighs over fifteen stone he was no light load. However, with occasional knocks against projecting rocks, which did not improve his temper, he was safely deposited at the bottom, where mules sent by the Jongpen and the Paro Penlop were waiting for us, as the road into camp was said to be quite good.
On our way through the gorge we stopped for lunch, but none of us enjoyed it much, as the meat was frozen so hard that it was quite uneatable, and the thermos flask had gone wrong and our long-looked-forward-to hot soup was very cold. Whilst lunching, too, we dropped the top of one of the sparklet bottles amongst some stones, and it took us a long time to find it, but as we had only two bottles with us we could not afford to lose it. At the lower end the trees became very fine, and we passed some enormous specimens of larch and different sorts of pine, as well as rhododendron, birch, maple, and holly-oak.
The gaily caparisoned mules and ponies were waiting for us at the bottom, with equally gaily attired attendants. We each mounted one, and were immediately started off at a brisk trot over slippery boulders and round projecting rocks and corners, which threatened to knock our knees to pieces, but as the reins on the animals were only for ornament, and not for use, we had to submit to the syces' guidance and allow ourselves to be dragged over a horrible road. The ride was not an agreeable one; it was a marvel ​
BRIDGE AT SHANA
liked to get off and walk; but my dignity was at stake, and for shame’s sake I had to stick to my mount; but I was glad when the camp appeared round a corner and I could dismount and stretch my limbs. Just before entering camp our band was augmented by more musicians carrying “gyeling,” or silver trumpets, on which they performed in the most approved style, turning towards you as they blew with a great sweep and flourish towards the sky.
We reached our camping-ground about 3 P.M., a lovely open spot in the midst of larch and spruce, with magnificent views both up and down the valley, and found our heavy baggage waiting for us. Sorting out the tents was rather a difficult task, as the coolies had thrown everything in a heap, but we soon got things into fair order, and had a roaring fire made in the middle of the camp, round which we all sat and made ourselves comfortable, although a good deal of our baggage did not arrive till midnight. We had come about fifteen or twenty miles, and the march had been a long and trying one for the coolies. We had now to change our Phari coolies for Bhutanese transport, and this, in addition to the very large amount of baggage, necessitated an early start; but my Moonshi Lobzang, who was splendid at this sort of arrangement, soon got things straight, and before we had breakfast the bulk of the piles of baggage had disappeared and was on its way to our next halting-place.
As this was our first morning in Bhutan, the escort proper thought they would play us out of camp, and, according to custom, the Bhutanese did the same, and the combined noise was awful. Hyslop was very critical about the 62nd pipers, which I suppose was natural, but as I am not a Highlander I could not see very much difference between their performance and the real thing.
A little below the camp we crossed the Pa-chhu by a very picturesque covered cantilever bridge. The march ​was an extremely pretty one, as it took us the whole way through forests of Pinus excelsa, with here and there some lovely glades, and occasional farmhouses with patches of cultivation. After recrossing the river we soon came in sight of Dug-gye-jong, which I have already said is the most beautifully situated Jong I know, and which looks well from whichever side it is approached. On arriving at the Jong I was received by the Jongpen, who took me to his guest-room, where the walls were hung with bows and arrows, shields, quaint old guns, saddle-cloths, and curious bridles. We were shown to chairs on a high dais by the window, and an excellent omelette with spring onions was served, accompanied by milk and warm chang to drink and some very good walnuts. We stayed in the Jong till our tents were pitched and comfortably settled, when we moved across. The day had been warm, but as soon as the sun went behind the hills we were glad to put on great-coats and to sit round a good fire. We halted at Dug-gye for a couple of days, and sorted out our stores, managing to reduce them by a few loads. Some of the party went out after pheasants, but saw very few, while I enjoyed having a day off and took some good photographs.
The second day we made an expedition to the Paro Ta-tshang Monastery, one of the holiest monasteries in Bhutan, situated on the opposite side of the valley, about 3000 feet up. The road was reported to be very bad, and it certainly was, and I was glad I had not brought my own animals, but had borrowed mules from the Jongpen for all our party. The road to the top of the spur was very steep, with frozen slippery patches where it was shady and very hot in the sun. It ran in one place in a narrow path across a precipice, with a tremendous drop below, and in another became a series of steep stone steps. On reaching the top of the ridge we first came in sight of the monastery buildings, grouped on an almost perpendicular hillside in the most picturesque manner. The main ​temple is erected on what is practically a crack in a perpendicular rock over 2000 feet in height, and along the crack there are a few more subsidiary buildings. Each building is two stories high, and is painted, like all monasteries, a dull light grey on the lower story, with a broad band of madder-red above, and shingle roofs, on the top of which are gilded canopies. It was unquestionably the most picturesque group of buildings I had seen. Every natural feature in the landscape had been taken advantage of, and beautiful old trees clinging to the rocks were in just the right position, and, combined with the sheer precipices, made a magnificent picture.
We appeared to be quite close, but were really separated from the buildings by an almost inaccessible gorge. The only approach was by a narrow path or series of steps, where a foot misplaced would precipitate you to the bottom, quite 1000 feet, across a plank bridge, and then up another series of little steps cut in the rock. The native hospital assistant had accompanied our party so far, but this was too much for him. He said he had been in many bad places, but never such a bad one as this, and he turned back to where the mules were waiting. Natives, as a rule, have good heads and do not mind bad roads, so that speaks for itself.
Across the gorge a rope of little coloured prayer-flags was stretched, which fluttered out prayers for the benefit of those who had put them up, and this added to the picturesqueness of the scene.
On reaching the top of our ladder-like path a monk presented us each with a draught of beautifully ice-cold water in a gourd from a holy spring, and I can imagine it being much appreciated on a hot day.
The most holy shrine, the sanctuary round which all the other buildings have sprung up, was situated in a cave. The cave is not large, and in it was a gilded chorten filled with small images of Buddha in copper-gilt, each seated on a lotus, and many of very good design. The ​other buildings were for the most part ordinary temples, with frescoed walls and altars, with butter lamps and incense burning, and in the principal one there was a very fine brass Buddha of more than life size, surrounded by his satellites. There were also some unusually good specimens of dorjes (thunderbolts) and purpas (daggers), both of which are used in the temple services. They were supposed to be of holy origin, and to be found amongst the solid rocks near the shrine, but I could see none, although the Bya-gha Jongpen’s son, a nephew of the Tongsa, had taken one away a few weeks previously. My servants were very anxious to secure one of these treasures, and climbed to an almost inaccessible point in the rocks in search of them, but without success.
In the centre of the gorge, perched upon a tiny ledge, there was a hermit’s dwelling, which could only be reached by climbing a perpendicular notched pole about forty feet high. It looked diminutive against the enormous precipice, and very dreary and uninviting, with long icicles hanging from the roof, and we did not attempt to visit it. We, however, climbed to the top of the precipice to visit the monastery of Sang-tog-peri, which was most picturesquely situated on a projecting spur, with a fine old oak overhanging the entrance. It reminded me of some of the Japanese temples in Kioto in the way the natural features of the ground had been utilised to beautify the entrance.
There was a lovely view from this point. Around us on all sides were spurs with other monasteries and nunneries, but they were all more or less difficult of access, and our time would not admit of further delay, so we were obliged to return leaving them unvisited. It was a place that would take days to explore, and would well repay the trouble, especially to an artist in search of the beautiful and unusual.
We returned to Dug-gye by another road, which led down an easy spur, and were glad to rest round our campfire, as it was late and cold.
PARO TAKTSANG MONASTERY.
​The next day we continued our journey down the valley to Paro, and were met half-way by Rai Ugyen Kazi Bahadur, the Bhutanese Agent in India, who had been unable to accompany us, and had travelled from Chumbi viâ Hah. He was accompanied by representatives of the Paro Penlop, bringing scarves of welcome and murwa, as well as fresh mules and ponies for all the party. At Paro I was received by the Penlop and his newly married son, quite a lad, but I did not see his bride.
Paro-jong, one of the finest forts in Bhutan, which I have already described, had been burnt to the ground a few weeks previously, and was now a heap of blackened ruins, with only a few walls standing up gaunt and melancholy. Although the ruins were still smouldering, preparations for rebuilding had already commenced, and the débris was being removed and new timber collected, an arduous task in these hills, especially as enormous beams are used in all Bhutanese construction. They also use a quite unnecessary amount, and make their floors far too thick.
The rebuilding of such a fort is a very great tax on the people, and is generally borne by those close at hand, but in this case, by an arrangement of the Tongsa’s, the whole of Bhutan was contributing either in money or labour, thereby saving much hardship to the neighbouring villagers and expediting the work of reconstruction. It was rumoured that the Jong had been purposely set on fire, but I had no opportunity of finding out the truth, though a suspicious circumstance was that the Penlop was believed to have succeeded in saving his own property—no inconsiderable amount—while all Government property was destroyed. The Bhutanese estimated their loss at about 1½ lacs of rupees, or £12,000, and that it would take four years to rebuild the fort. There were flocks of pigeons flying about the ruins, and Hyslop and I did a little shooting.
​Our next camp was in a village called Pemithang, crossing on our way the Be-la Pass (10,500 feet), from where we had a magnificent view of Chomolhari to the north. The road was fairly good, except that in a few places it was covered with ice for several hundred yards; but it was easy to have earth thrown on it, and the mules crossed safely. We were now using animals provided by the Tongsa, and very good ones they were, and as even our servants were mounted it did not take long to move from one camp to another.
At Chalimaphe our camp was again pitched round the magnificent old weeping cypress, measuring over fifty feet in circumference at the base. Unfortunately I had another attack of fever, and had to halt for a couple of days. It was bitterly cold at night, unusually so for that elevation, and water standing by my bed was frozen solid.
Hyslop and Campbell utilised the time by visiting Tashi-cho-jong, the summer capital. They found that since my last visit the Thimbu Jongpen had built a magnificent new gompa, on which he appears to have spent a great deal of money. The decorations were good, and the central figure of a seated Buddha was quite twenty feet high, and heavily gilt. Above and around it was a canopy and background of golden leaves, and the figure itself was richly studded with turquoises and precious stones. On either side were attendant female figures, and in double rows more than life-sized images of Bhutanese gods, while the walls were hung with brocades and embroidered banners; and altogether it must have cost the Thimbu a good deal.
Next morning we left Chalimaphe for the last camp before reaching our destination, Poonakha. The mornings here are always exceedingly cold until the sun rises, when one’s wraps become oppressive, but the ride up the valley was beautiful. This time we visited the fort of Simtoka, which has some ancient figures and carvings ​in stone, but is principally interesting on account of its age. From the pass, the Dokyong-la, we had a magnificent view of the snow ranges for the first time, as on my previous visit the whole range was never visible, but was enveloped in clouds, which only occasionally lifted to allow the different peaks to be seen. It was a fine sight, as the range extended on the right as far as some peaks to the east of Kulu-Kangri and on the left to Chomolhari.
We passed our old camp at Lung-me-tsawe, and moved down to a warmer spot at the bottom of the hill, where we camped amongst paddy-fields; but even here a fire was most welcome as soon as the sun went behind the hills. From this a short march brought us to Poonakha, and about four miles out we were met by a deputation from the Tongsa Penlop. He had sent the Ghassa Jongpen, who brought scarves of welcome and baskets of fruit, oranges, plantains, and persimmons, in addition to sealed wicker-covered bamboos filled with murwa and chang. There were at least five or six gaily caparisoned mules for each of us to ride, sent by the Tongsa, the Poonakha Jongpen, Deb Zimpon, and others, so we had an abundance of choice. The Tongsa had also sent his band, which consisted of six men, two in red, who were the trumpeters, while the remainder, dressed in green, carried drums and gongs. The mass of colours of every hue was most picturesque, and we made a very gay procession as we started off again towards Poonakha. At the point where the Jong first comes in view a salute of guns was fired, more retainers met us, and our procession was joined by the dancers. The band and dancers preceded me down the hill playing a sort of double tambourine, and twisting and twirling to the beat as they descended the path. The procession must have extended for quite half a mile along the hillside. First came the pipes and drums and escort of the 62nd Punjabis, followed by some twenty led mules, most of them with magnificent ​saddle-cloths, with their syces and other retainers; next the bodyguard of the Tongsa, about twenty men, dressed in beautiful silks and brocades, and each with a yellow scarf. The band and dancers followed immediately in front of myself and my party, and we again were followed by my orderlies and servants, who were all mounted and wearing their scarlet uniforms. On account of the narrow path, the procession had to proceed in single file, and as we gradually wended our way across the bridge, through a corner of the Jong to the ground occupied by my camp on my visit in 1905, we must have made a brave show for the country folk, who had flocked out in thousands to watch our arrival.
At the camp entrance the Tongsa Penlop, with his council, was waiting to receive us as we dismounted, and we were conducted up a path covered with red cloth and between lines of flowers and shrubs in pots to the mess-house they had built for us, and which we entered with the council, all others being excluded. I was shown to a seat at the end of the room, with the Tongsa and his council on my left and the other members of the Mission on my right. The members of the council who were present were the Paro Penlop, the Thimbu Jongpen, the Poonakha Jongpen, and the Deb Zimpon, the other two members being prevented by illness from attending. As soon as we were seated the Tongsa, followed by his council, presented each member of the Mission with scarves, and then murwa, tea, and other refreshments were brought in. I talked for some little time to the Tongsa, who then went round to each of the party welcoming them to Bhutan and saying how pleased he was to see them.
We found a very comfortable camp laid out for us, bearing evident traces of the impressions they had brought back from their Calcutta visit, for the paths were edged with pot plants and red cloth was laid down. We each had our own little wooden house, with one room and a bathroom, raised about eighteen inches from the ground, with ​
GROUP AT POONAKHA, 1908
Inside, the walls were covered with thin white cloth, with a frieze of draped coloured silk. The windows were like small port-holes, of course without glass, but with a shutter to pull across at night. They had no furniture, but the mess-house, which was a big room about twenty feet square, had an excellent table in the centre, and ten wooden arm-chairs which would have done credit to any carpenter and were wonderful productions when you remember that these people have no saws, no planes, no nails, and only the roughest of tools. The walls of the mess-house were covered with wonderful pictures in colour, and a large red and yellow curtain to let down at night. The table also had a white cloth, which was carefully gummed or pasted on. Outside the houses were painted white, and a few steps led to the doors. There were also mat huts for the servants, and an excellent kitchen. The enclosure was quite a hundred yards square, surrounded by a fence, and with branches of pine-trees planted every few yards, while the stables were some little distance off; so we could hardly have been more comfortable.
The next day we spent in settling down and preparing for the ceremony on the following day. I took Hyslop with me and made an inspection of the hall in the Jong where the ceremony was to be held. It was very suitable, as it was a large room on the ground floor, with a gallery running all round, and capable of holding many hundreds of spectators, and by removing part of the roof they could let in both light and air. At the main entrance to the Jong quite a little bazaar was in progress, cloth-merchants selling Bhutanese cloths and cheap down-country cottons and sweetmeats, and pan-sellers doing a roaring trade,
CHAPTER XIX
MY SECOND MISSION TO BHUTAN—continued
Installation of Sir Ugyen as Maharaja of Bhutan. Presentation of gifts. Tea ceremony. Oath of allegiance. Seal of the Dharma Raja. Chinese influence on the frontier. Christmas Day. Feeding the poor. Return of escort. Discussion of State affairs with Maharaja and council. I leave for Jaigaon. A Takin. Inspection of frontier. Wild animals.
December 17, the day of the installation of the Maharaja, dawned brightly on a scene of great bustle and preparation. Punctually at ten o’clock our procession started for the Jong, all the members in uniform, preceded by the pipes and drums playing “Highland Laddie,” and followed by my orderlies in their picturesque Sikhimese dress and the escort of the 62nd. At the entrance to the main gateway I was received by the Tongsa Penlop and the council, and conducted to the hall, which was gaily decorated with floating banners of brocade and gyaltsen, and with precious religious picture-scrolls embroidered in silk. At the upper end of the room was a daïs, with three wooden thrones covered with cushions and silk cloths, and in front of each a small table with a ceremonial offering of fruit.
The Tongsa occupied the centre throne, placing me on his right hand, and the Lama Khenpo, Ta-tshang Khenpo, on his left. The other members of the Mission were seated on chairs on the right of the aisle, the members of council, headed by the Paro Penlop, just below them on the same side; opposite, on the left of the aisle, was the Tango Lama ​and other representative lamas, in their gorgeous robes of office, and wearing brocade hats. My orderlies and the escort were lined up behind my seat and the chairs occupied by the other members of the Mission. Facing the Tongsa, at the further end of the room, was an altar covered with lighted silver butter lamps. The broad aisle in the centre of the room was kept clear, but all other available space was filled by a dense throng of spectators, monks and laymen on either side, minor Jongpens and officials at the lower end. In the gallery a band of lama musicians was stationed, and another dense mass of interested onlookers, some of whom even invaded the roof to watch through the space removed for light and air, although they were repeatedly driven off by the lamas.
The Tongsa wore a robe of blue brocade, with the star and ribbon of the K.C.I.E. and the scarlet shawl, the distinguishing mark of the council.
The proceedings were opened by the formal presentation of the Durbar gifts from the Government of India, which were brought in and placed in front of the Tongsa Penlop. This was followed by the presentation of the Ta-tshang Khenpo’s gifts, which were laid on the floor by his attendants. Next came the Tango Lama, as head and representative of the monastic body. Leaving his mitre and silken cope in his place, he advanced in the ordinary red monk’s garb and prostrated himself twice, then returned to his seat and resumed his vestments. After the Tango Lama came the councillors, in order of seniority, following them the Jongpens of the different Jongs in a body, and so on until all had made their several obeisances and contributed their offering to the mighty pile of silks, cloths, silver coins, and gold-dust in the centre of the hall. The Maharaja-elect and the council then presented the Mission with scarves.
When this was concluded a procession of lamas, with tea-pots and other vessels of copper, gold, and silver, appeared, and the important ceremony of tea-drinking, ​without which no function in this part of the world is complete, was gone through. Three kinds of tea, rice, and pan were each offered in turn, and in conclusion one of the chief lamas intoned a long grace.
The head clerk to the council now rose, and from the centre of the hall read out from a parchment scroll the oath of allegiance to the new Maharaja, which the chiefs and headmen were about to sign. The Ta-tshang Khenpo from a casket produced the great seal of the Dharma Raja, which was solemnly affixed to the document. This was a lengthy proceeding, carried out with great care, and eagerly watched by the company. The seal measures about five inches square. The paper was first most carefully damped with warm water, then the seal was painted over with vermilion, and finally the impression was taken. Then in turn the council, the lamas, the Jongpens, and other high officials each affixed his seal; but their impressions were in black, not vermilion; and the lamas, on leaving their seats, whether to present the Maharaja with gifts or to affix their seals, always took off their hats and robes of office, resuming them when they again seated themselves. The following is a translation of the document:
“ToThe foot of the two-fold Judge.  “To The foot of the two-fold Judge.
“Most Respectfully Prayeth,
“There being no Hereditary Maharaja over this State of Bhutan, and the Deb Rajas being elected from amongst the Lamas, Lopons, Councillors, and the Chiolahs of the different districts, we the undersigned Abbots, Lopons, and the whole body of Lamas, the State Councillors, the Chiolahs of the different districts, with all the subjects, having discussed and unanimously agreed to elect Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk, Tongsa Penlop, the Prime Minister of Bhutan, as Hereditary Maharaja of this State, have
OATH OF ALLEGIANCE SIGNED AT POONAKHA AT THE INSTALLATION OF SIR UGYEN WANG-CHUK AS MAHARAJA OF BHUTAN, 1907
to the 17th December, 1907, at Poonakha-phodang.
“We now declare our allegiance to him and his heirs with unchanging mind, and undertake to serve him and his heirs loyally and faithfully to the best of our ability. Should any one not abide by this contract by saying this and that, he shall altogether be turned out of our company.
“In witness thereto we affix our seals.”
Seal of the whole body of lamas, headed by the Khenpo and Lopon. Seal and sign of Chotsi (Tongsa) Chiolah. Seal and sign of Zung Donyer Tsewang Paljor. Seal and sign of Thimbu Jongpen Kunzang Tinley. Seal and sign of Poonakha Jongpen Palden Wang-chuk. Seal and sign of Angdu-phodang Jongpen Kunzang Norbu. Seal and sign of Rinpung Chiolah (Paro Penlop) Dow Paljor. Seal and sign of Tarkar Chiolah Tsewang Dorje. Seal and sign of Deb Zimpon Kunzang Tsering.
Second-class Officers.—Seal and sign of Zung Donsapa Shar Sring. Seal and sign of Zimpon Nangma Namgyal. Seal and sign of Ta-pon Rigzin Dorje. Seal and sign of Chapon Samdub. Seal and sign of Poonakha Zimpon Sangay Tinley. Seal and sign of Poonakha Nyerpa Kunley. Seal and sign of Ghassa-jong Tarpon Goley Ngodub. Seal and sign of Thimbu Zimpon Sithub. Seal and sign of Thimbu Nyerpa Phurpa Tashi. Seal and sign of Linzi Nyerpa Taya Gepo. Seal and sign of Angdu-phodang Zimpon Tsewang Ngodub. Seal and sign of Angdu-phodang Nyerpa Gharpon. Seal and sign of Rinpung Donyer Palzang. Seal and sign of Minpung Nyerpa Yesha. Seal and sign of Rinpung Zimpon Sigyal. Seal and sign of Dug-gye Jongpen Samten Wot Zer. Seal and sign of Hah Tungpa Ugyen. Seal and sign of Bya-gha Jongpen Tsemed Dorje. Seal and sign of Shon-gha Jongpen Dorje Paljor. Seal and sign of Tashigong Jongpen Sonam Sring. Seal and sign of Lhuntse Jongpen Tinley Gyatso. Seal and sign of Shalgang Jongpen Karma. Seal and sign ​of all the third-class officers of Poonakha. Seal and sign of all the third-class officers of Tashi-cho-jong. Seal and sign of all the third-class officers of Angdu-phodang. Seal and sign of all the third-class officers of Tongsa. Seal and sign of all the third-class officers of Rinpung (Paro). Seal and sign of Chotre Zimpon Dorje. Seal and sign of Tarkar Zimpon Dorje. Seal and sign of Nyerchen Wangpo. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Tsochen-gyed. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Thekar-kyon-chu-sum. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Shar-tar-gyed. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Bar-khor-tso-tug. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Tsen-tong-ling-tug. Seal and sign of all the Hah subjects. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Shachokhorlo-tsip-gyed. Seal and sign of all the subjects of Bar-khor-tso-tug.
Two copies of the document were prepared and duly signed and sealed, and the Tongsa Penlop was thus formally elected as His Highness the Maharaja of Bhutan, Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk, K.C.I.E. I then rose, and handing his Highness his Excellency the Viceroy’s kharita, or complimentary letter, made a short speech congratulating the new Maharaja, saying:
“Maharaja Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk, Lamas, Penlops, Jongpens, and Headmen,—
“I have to-day been present at the election of Sir Ugyen as Hereditary Maharaja of Bhutan, and congratulate you, Sir Ugyen, most heartily on your accession to the gaddi, and the people of Bhutan on their choice of a ruler.
“I have knowm Bhutan for many years, and, with an intimate knowledge of the political questions relating thereto, I am convinced that you have taken a wise step in thus consolidating the administration of the State. Sir Ugyen has been my friend for many years, and you could not have made a better choice. His integrity, uprightness, and firmness of character commend him to ​every one, and his accession to the Maharajaship is not only a gain to Bhutan, but is of great advantage to the British Government, who will henceforth have a settled Government, with a man of strong character at its head, to negotiate with. My sincere hope is that you, Sir Ugyen, may long be spared to carry through the many improvements and schemes for the advancement of Bhutan which you and I have so often discussed, and I again congratulate you on your accession, and feel confident that the affairs of Bhutan under your guidance will be in the best of hands. I also have great pleasure in handing you a kharita, conveying to you the congratulations of his Excellency the Viceroy and the Government of India.
“In conclusion, I wish you long life and prosperity, and may your descendants be equally worthy to succeed you for many generations to come.”
The other members of the Mission presented the Maharaja with white scarves, and congratulated him on his accession and on being the first King of Bhutan; for “Gyelpo” is the title given him by the people of Bhutan, not Maharaja, and its literal translation is “King.”
The Maharaja, in return, expressed his satisfaction at the presence of a Mission from the Government of India on this eventful occasion, an occasion which he hoped would mark the opening of a new era of prosperity for his country, and his great pleasure in welcoming at the head of the Mission, as the representative of the Government of India, an old friend of many years’ standing. This brought the ceremony to a close, and we left the hall in the order we had come, to the accompaniment of solemn music played by the lamas’ band, the Maharaja and myself heading the procession. We accompanied the Maharaja to his private apartments, where refreshments in the shape of omelette, rice, fruit, and lychees were handed round, and after talking over the events of the day I returned to camp.
This was a momentous day in the history of Bhutan. ​The country had now a recognised head; Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk; the Tongsa Penlop, had been unanimously chosen by the lamas, headmen, and people as their Hereditary Maharaja. Sir Ugyen is a man of particularly strong character, who has during the last eighteen or twenty years piloted Bhutan through a series of revolutions to a state of peace and prosperity, who has the welfare of his country at heart and thinks of it before all things. He is a man universally liked and respected, and is peculiarly fitted to be the first Maharaja, and should he live long enough I am certain his rule will be entirely for the benefit of his people and their country. What he lacks to strengthen his hands are funds with which to carry on the development and improvements. The opening up of the country he has already commenced, and it is sincerely to be hoped that the Government of India may see its way to giving him the necessary assistance in the shape of a substantial loan on easy terms, or, better still, an increase of his annual subsidy. The aid is required now, not in the distant future, and I hope the fact that I am no longer on the spot or able to press the matter on Government will not mean that the proposals made will be allowed to fall into abeyance, but that the Indian Government will give, and give generously, what is required. I cannot pass over the fact that the present time is a critical one for relations between India and Bhutan, and that if we do not support the new Maharaja openly and generously grave complications, may be the result. At the present moment Bhutan and its people are thoroughly and entirely friendly to the English, and wish beyond everything to enter into close relationships with them, but since the withdrawal of the Lhasa Mission Chinese influence is more active than ever on this frontier, and Bhutan, from lack of active help and sympathy on our part, may, against her will, be thrown into the hands of the Chinese by sheer force of circumstances, for China, as we know, is not likely to lose such an opportunity, when the expenditure of a few thousand rupees will gain her ​end, and such a departure is to be most highly deprecated from all points of view.
In honour of the Maharaja’s accession I gave a dinner to Sir Ugyen and his councillors, and invited them for seven o’clock, but they all arrived about five. It was a little difficult to entertain them until dinner was served, but fortunately I had a number of mechanical toys and an electric battery to show them, and with all of them they were just as pleased as a crowd of overgrown children.
I had brought the annual subsidy of 50,000 rupees with me which, under the treaty of 1866, by which the Bhutanese ceded the Duars to the Government of India, is paid to them, and presented it in full Durbar. Our large shamianah was prepared for the ceremony, and the guard presented arms as the Maharaja entered the enclosure. Sir Ugyen and his council presented us with scarves, and a small offering of salt and cloths was laid in front of me. I then formally handed over the treasure, which was packed in boxes, to the Maharaja; at his request one box was opened and a thousand rupees were counted out. The boxes were then taken over by the Deb Zimpon and removed to the Jong. The subsidy is usually paid at Buxa, in the Duars, but it was more convenient for us both to make it over at Poonakha this year.
At the Maharaja’s special request I was present unofficially, as his friend, at the first private council meeting after his election, and discussed with them and advised them on various matters connected with the administration of the State. I considered his request a great compliment, and was only too pleased to assist him in any way I could.
I prolonged my visit to Poonakha for some days, exploring and visiting the Jong, exchanging visits with the chief officials and headmen, and making one or two excursions to neighbouring monasteries. I revisited the Talo Monastery, the residence of the Dharma Raja, and found it as beautiful and charming as on my first visit, and the old Tango Lama, who, until the new incarnation is found, ​officiates as head of the monastery, as genial and hospitable as of old. We passed a night there, and returned to Poonakha through lovely scenery, along a road with oak, walnut, and wild pear-trees on both sides, and quantities of bracken and wild roses.
On Christmas Day the post came in most opportunely with our letters, and later the Maharaja and council arrived with their followers to be photographed. It is a great pity that in the photographs the colouring of the group does not come out, as that was the most effective part of the picture. The council were in bright-coloured silk robes, each with his crimson shawl of office; standard-bearers in gaily striped bokus; fighting men with swords, leather shields, and brightly polished steel helmets ornamented with colours; archers with bows and arrows, gun-carriers with all kinds of strange weapons, and many others, all quaintly and picturesquely dressed.
Later in the day we distributed doles to the poor in the neighbourhood. More than a thousand turned up, a most quiet and orderly crowd, who waited with the greatest patience each for his turn. I had them marshalled in double lines, sitting on the ground, and Rennick and Campbell passed down the lines, giving each person a four-anna bit. Even the babies were made to hold out their hands, though the parent speedily seized the coin. We brought an unusual Christmas Day to a close with a dinner-party, followed by a magic-lantern exhibition, at which the Maharaja and council were our guests; and with this entertainment the ceremonies attending the Maharaja’s installation came to an end, and the following day our party was broken up. I sent Campbell back to Chumbi with the escort, while Rennick and Hyslop returned to India viâ the Buxa route.
I remained behind, at the urgent request of the new Maharaja and his council, to discuss with them many projects and schemes for the welfare and improvement of the country. These covered a large area—schools and ​education, population, trade, the construction of roads, the mineral resources of the country and the best method of utilising them, the desirability of encouraging tea cultivation on the waste lands at the foot of the hills, which are excellent for the purpose and equal to the best tea land in the Duars.
The discussions were long and earnest, and the Tongsa and all his council entered most fully into everything. The great stumbling-block to all advancement was the lack of funds, and this was clearly recognised by them all, as well as the fact that money must be raised; but the difficulty was how to do it. The sale of timber, mining concessions, and grants of tea land would all be means of bringing in a considerable revenue, and they decided to move the Government of India in the matter. After spending several days in discussing these proposals I also was obliged to take my departure, much as I regretted having to do so. Sir Ugyen was much distressed, and felt my going keenly, as, owing to my approaching retirement, it was the last time we should meet officially, though I hope some day to visit him again on my own account.
Sir Ugyen accompanied me about four miles out of Poonakha, and under the shade of a large pine-tree we sat for about two hours for our final talk, and then took a sad farewell of each other.
I have never met a native I liked and respected more than I do Sir Ugyen. He is upright, honest, open, and straightforward, and I wish it had been possible to remain in India till he had at least commenced some of his schemes of reform. He has a very difficult task before him, and at this time especially requires help given to him sympathetically and directly, without the trammels of official red tape.
My intention was to reach the plains at J aigaon, travelling viâ Paro and Dongna-jong, and Ugyen Kazi accompanied me. After staying for the night in my old camping-ground at Lung-me-tsawe, I reached Paro, and was received by the ​Paro Penlop, who had returned immediately after the installation in order to superintend the rebuilding of the fort.
While sitting round the camp-fire that night the Ghassa Jongpen’s men brought me a magnificent specimen of a male takin (Budorcas taxicolor Whitei). The carcase was frozen hard, and it was only with great difficulty that I succeeded in having it skinned. It was a weird sight to watch the men working by the light of the fire and bamboo torches, but the operation was at last completed, and the meat distributed. Every one was eager to secure a portion, as it is believed to be a cure for many diseases and a sure panacea in the case of child-birth.
In my travels in Bhutan I have several times heard of takin in the neighbourhood, but never had time to go after them, as their haunts were always too far off my route.
On leaving Paro I turned to the south and went down the valley over a hitherto unknown route, camping for the first night at a village called Pomesa. The march up the ridge above the Hah Valley, which we crossed by the Doley-la, was good going, and we passed through some very fine forests. From the ridge I descended to the Hah-chhu by an easy road, which led chiefly through oaks and Pinus excelsa, passing Bite-jong on the way, but from the Hah-chhu on to the top of the next ridge, over which we crossed by the Lome-la, the road was not good. For a great part of the way there were magnificent forests of Pinus excelsa, Abies Brunoniana, and silver fir, many of the trees exceeding in size anything I have ever seen. If these forests, with the water-power at hand on all sides, were properly worked they ought to supply all the tea districts in India with boxes, and would then soon bring in some of the much-needed revenue to Bhutan; but European capital and supervision are absolutely necessary, or otherwise the forests will be destroyed.
From the Lome-la the track down to the ​
H.H. SIR UGYEN WANG-CHUK, K.C.I.E., MAHARAJA OF BHUTAN
a road. It is nothing but a watercourse most of the way, with mere tracks along bad precipices and almost perpendicular falls, while from Dongna-jong it follows the bed of the river, and must be absolutely impassable in the rains. It was a marvel how my mules managed to get down, but with the exception of being a little footsore they were none the worse, and a few days’ rest put them in condition again. One of the reasons this part of the road is so bad is that it is on the slopes of the hills immediately above the plains which receive the full force of the southwest monsoon, probably not less than 300 inches of rain in the year, and no road, unless very carefully looked after, can stand that. It is quite useless from any utilitarian point of view, but the scenery throughout is lovely.
I was not sorry to reach Jaigaon, Mr. Trood’s comfortable bungalow, where I was most hospitably entertained, and where I stayed for three days to recruit and to transact some work with some of the tea-gardens on the frontier.
From Jaigaon I travelled west along the boundary to view land suitable for tea on the Bhutan side, and at the same time to look at some copper deposits which I hope may eventually prove profitable to Bhutan.
After inspecting them I turned back and went to the east of Bhutan to look at a coal-mine, travelling viâ Dhubri and Gauhati. By this time the different kinds of transport I had used during my tour had included, I should think, about every known sort. I had made use of coolies, elephants, mules, ponies, donkeys, yaks, oxen, carts, pony-traps, rail, and steamer, and the only available animal I had not employed was the Tibetan pack-sheep.
The hills where the coal is situated lie on the northern slope of the Himalayas, and are densely clothed with forests, but with practically no population, as it is too fever-stricken to allow of any one living there. They are, however, the haunt of almost every kind of wild animal—elephant, rhino, tiger, leopard, bison, mythun, sambur, cheetah, ​hog-deer, barking deer, &c. The river-beds are full of runs leading to the various salt-licks which occur in the hills. On one of my visits to the coal a magnificent tusker went up the valley ahead of me, and Ugyen Kazi, who pitched his camp higher up the valley, was obliged to move his tents owing to the numbers of wild elephants making it too unpleasant for him to stay on. While I was examining the coal a large tigress with her cub walked down the valley, and on my return I found her pugs, with the little one’s pug inside one of her own. It would be an ideal place for shooting, but not easy to follow game, owing to the extreme steepness of the sandstone cliffs.
The elephant in its wild state can go over, or down, nearly anything, and the tusker I mentioned I found had gone up a precipice thirty feet high at an angle very little short of perpendicular.
I found the coal very much crushed and squeezed out of its original bed. The quality also was not very good, with too much ash, but it might be utilised to make gas, which could be supplied to the neighbouring tea-gardens at probably less cost than the timber now in use for fuel. After inspecting the coal I left Ugyen Kazi to attend to some timber contracts he had undertaken, and to the sale of the Bhutan lac, and fortunately finding a dog-cart available, set off to drive to the ghat at Rungamatti, a quicker way of travelling than on an elephant. There had been some rain, but the roads were in fair order. At Rungamatti I had a long wait for the steamer, which had stuck on a sandbank somewhere further up the river, and in consequence we were nearly twenty-four hours late in reaching Dhubri, the present terminus of the railway; but from there there was no difficulty in getting back to my home at Gangtak. This ended my last official visit to Bhutan; but I hope it will not be my last visit, as I look forward to meeting Sir Ugyen and his sister again, as well as all the Bhutan officials, and to revisiting the country
CHAPTER XX
BRITISH MISSIONS TO BHUTAN
Bogle, 1774. Hamilton, 1775 and 1777. Turner, 1783. Pemberton, 1838. Eden, 1864. White, 1905. White, 1907.
An account of the first Mission to Bhutan is to he found in the “Narrative of the Mission of George Bogle to Tibet, and of Thomas Manning to Lhasa,” edited by Markham, in 1875.
Prior to this narrative, no full account of Bogle’s Mission had been published. An attempt to find adequate materials in the records at Calcutta or at the India Office had failed, but fortunately Bogle’s journals, memoranda, official and private correspondence were carefully preserved by his family in Scotland, and it is on these materials that Markham has based his narrative. It was the lack of these materials in the public offices that led Eden, in his account of the political missions to Bhutan, to say that Bogle does not appear to have been charged with any political functions with regard to Bhutan. Markham’s investigations have proved, on the contrary, that Bogle had a mission to Bhutan, and an important one. The Mission originated in a friendly letter from the Penchen Rimpochi of Tibet, interceding with the East India Company on behalf of Bhutan after the Bhutanese invasion of Cooch Behar, and the primary cause of Bogle’s Mission was Warren Hastings’ desire to take advantage of this opening given him by the Penchen Rimpochi to establish friendly ​communications with the Government at Lhasa and open a trade with Tibet.
Eden is so far right in saying that Bogle was charged with no political Mission to Bhutan inasmuch as the treaty of 1774 had already been concluded in the April of that year, and Bogle’s appointment letter is dated May 13, 1774, and in that letter no specific Mission to Bhutan is mentioned. Warren Hastings, in his letter to the Court of Directors, informs them that he is taking the opportunity of the Penchen Rimpochi’s letter to employ Bogle to visit the Lama and open intercourse between Tibet and Bengal, and does not mention Bhutan.
The letter of instructions to Bogle also refers entirely to the negotiations with Tibet, though some confusion arises from the employment by Warren Hastings in this letter of the word “Bhutan.” “Having appointed you my Deputy to the Penchen Rimpochi, the Sovereign of Bhutan,” is the opening sentence of the letter, but Warren Hastings has used the word “Bhutan” here and in other places where it is mentioned in the letter for “Bhot,” the native name of Tibet. This explanation of the use of the word “Bhutan” is to be found in Markham’s note, and the context of the letter shows that it is evidently the right one. But the subsequent correspondence between Warren Hastings and Bogle proves that the latter was certainly charged with a friendly message to the Deb Raja, and with the more important duty of opening up trade with that country, and, through it, with Tibet. The main object of his Mission was to open communications and trade with Tibet, but to attain this object he was to gain the Deb Raja’s consent to the passage of traders through Bhutanese territory.
Bogle was the bearer of presents to the Deb Raja, and spent some time at Tashi-cho-jong as the Deb Raja’s guest, and was hospitably and civilly treated.
There must also have been some later written instructions on this point, for in writing to Warren Hastings on ​October 8, 1774, Bogle acknowledges the receipt of his commands of August 9 through a merchant of Rangpur, and proceeds to say that in several conversations he has made known Warren Hastings’ wish to extend the intercourse between Bengal and the Northern nations, from which Bhutan, as a channel of communications, would naturally benefit, and concludes by requesting, at the solicitation of the Deb Raja, that the annual caravan from Bhutan to Rangpur might meet with assistance and protection. The result of his visit was a very friendly letter from Warren Hastings, dated November 28, 1774, to the “Raja of Bhutan,” acknowledging the kindness and civility shown to Bogle, and enclosing a perwana for the encouragement of any Bhutanese subjects who might “wish to travel with caravans to Rangpur and other districts under the Company’s authority for the purpose of trade.” The perwana states that strict injunctions have been given to the officers of Rangpur and Ghoraghat, in Dinajpur, not to obstruct the passage of these caravans, and to afford them every assistance. This letter was followed by another one from Warren Hastings, dated January 6, 1775, in a similar friendly tone, and promising to take steps to remove some obstructions which had been made locally to the trade in cotton between Bhutan and Bengal, and suggesting that the Deb Raja should send a vakeel to reside in Calcutta to facilitate communication between the two Governments. From the first letter of November 28, 1774, it is also apparent that Warren Hastings intended to have regular articles of trade drawn up between the two countries. A further correspondence took place between Warren Hastings and Bogle after the latter’s return to Tashi-cho-jong from his visit to the Penchen Rimpochi, in Tibet, on the subject of trade negotiations. There is a letter from Warren Hastings to Bogle, dated May 9, 1775, and one from Bogle to Warren Hastings, dated May 25, which evidently crossed one another. Then we have another letter of Bogle’s, of June 9, and his general report of his Mission. From, this ​correspondence it is proved that Bogle drew up certain trade articles, to which he obtained the Deb Raja’s consent, and submitted them to Warren Hastings. There is no record of these articles having ever been formally signed by the Deb Raja and Bogle, or having received Hastings’ approval, but as Hastings gave Bogle a very free hand to make the best arrangements he could for trade, and as in the case of the Rangpur trade the articles were acted on, it seems most probable that Warren Hastings did approve of them.
It is curious and somewhat confusing to find that in the conduct of these negotiations both Hastings and Bogle apparently overlooked Article 4 of the treaty of 1774, which lays down that “the Bhootans being merchants, shall have the same privilege of trade as formerly without the payment of duties, and their caravans shall be allowed to go to Rangpur annually,” for in Hastings’ letter of May 9, 1775, to Bogle he ignores this clause altogether, and says that, to establish freedom of trade between Bhutan and Bengal, the annual caravans may continue their trade to Rangpur on the customary terms, and “you may even consent to relinquish the tribute or duty which is exacted from the caravans.”
The duty is further mentioned in the letter as amounting to Rs. 2000. Neither does Bogle in his articles of trade make any allusion to the fourth article of the treaty, and in the second and third clauses of his articles provides for the free trading of the Bhutanese to Rangpur and other places in Bengal, and for the abolition of the duties on the Rangpur caravan, as if these privileges had not been already secured to the Bhutanese by the treaty. A fair was afterwards established at Rangpur under conditions which were extremely favourable to the Bhutanese. Their expenses were paid by Government, stables erected for their horses and houses for themselves. This fair continued down to 1832, when the grant for its maintenance was withdrawn.
Markham thus sums up the result of Bogle’s Mission:
​“Besides the valuable information he collected, Bogle's Mission was very successful in other respects. It laid the foundation of a policy which, had it been steadily, cautiously, though continuously, carried out, would long ere this have secured permanent results. Bogle formed a close friendship with the Teshu Lama (Penchen Rimpochi) and all his kindred. He secured their hearty co-operation and support in the encouragement of trade, and even succeeded, after tedious negotiations, in inducing the Bhutan Government to allow the passage of merchandise through their territory to and from Tibet and Bengal.”
I have enlarged at some length on the nature of this part of Bogle’s Mission to Tibet, as both Pemberton and Eden were in ignorance of the real facts, and therefore failed to recognise the importance of his visit to the Deb Raja. The same misapprehension occurs in Aitcheson’s “Treaties,” where it is stated: “From that time, with the exception of two unsuccessful commercial missions in 1774 and 1783,” &c.
The Mission of 1774 noticed must, of course, have been Bogle’s, and it is not fair to say that it was unsuccessful. The results of his Mission were, in fact, most encouraging at the time, and laid the foundations of what would, but for the subsequent conduct of the Bhutanese and the course events took with Tibet, have developed into a thriving trade between their country and Bengal, while the friendly attitude of Warren Hastings towards the Bhutan Government serves to show up the subsequent misconduct of the Bhutanese in their relations with us in an even more unfavourable light than it has yet appeared.
Bogle left Calcutta with Mr. Hamilton, the surgeon appointed to attend him, in May 1774, and entered Bhutan from Cooch Behar through the Buxa Duar. His route to the capital, Tashi-cho-jong, lay up the Tchin-chhu, or Raidak river, and was made in ten stages, with a computed distance of 152 miles. The route seems to have been a fairly easy one, and though the roads were too steep and ​rugged for the conveyance of goods except by coolies, Bogie himself was able to ride most of the way. It is interesting to notice that on his way Bogle planted potatoes at his halting-places, which he did at the desire of Warren Hastings, in order to introduce the plant into Bhutan. Between Buxa Duar and Chuka, the sixth stage, he found hut few villages and scanty cultivation, but beyond Chuka and up to the capital the country opened gradually, the mountain-sides were more sloping, and the villages became more frequent. The country here is described as populous and well cultivated, the houses to be built of stones and clay, two or three stories high; there were temples and, on the last two stages, rice-fields. The temperature at Kyapcha was in June 58° in the morning and evening, and 64° in the heat of the day; at Tashi-cho-jong it was 61° in the morning, 68° to 70° at midday. The Bhutanese seem to have been adepts at bridge-making. The commonest kinds were wooden bridges on the cantilever principle, but iron suspension bridges were also met with. Bogle was furnished with a passport from the Deb Raja, and seems to have found no difficulty in getting supplies and coolies. He found the bigari, or forced labour, system prevalent, but says that it is so well established that the people submit to it without a murmur.
Tashi-cho-jong, the capital, is situated in a valley about five miles long and one broad, and is entirely surrounded by high mountains. The river Tchin-chhu “gallops through” the low grounds near it, which are covered with rice and well peopled. Bogle gives detailed and amusing accounts of his reception and stay at the capital, and a description of the palace of the Deb and Dharma Rajas. The palace contained nearly 3000 men and no women, and a tower five or six stories high was allotted to the Dharma Raja. The Dharma Raja apparently kept very much in the background, and Bogle’s visits to him were attended with less ceremony than those to the Deb Raja. Bogle appears to have been quite satisfied with ​his reception, and mixed freely with the people, joining one day in a game of quoits with the Jongpen of Tashi-cho-jong and his followers. Getting tired of quoits, at which he found himself less dexterous than his entertainers, he went off and shot wild pigeons, and after that had dinner with the Jongpen. This freedom of intercourse and the friendly and cordial manner in which he was entertained by the Deb Raja and members of his court is in strong contrast to the treatment met with by subsequent Missions after Turner’s, and it is perhaps not surprising that Bogle, especially considering his own gentle and amiable disposition, should give us a much more pleasing impression of the Bhutanese than is to be met with elsewhere.
In July 1774 Bogle received a letter from the Penchen Rimpochi desiring him to return to Calcutta instead of proceeding to Tibet. The excuse of which we have so often heard since in our dealings with Tibet—namely, the necessity of obtaining the consent of China to his journey—was put forward. The Deb Raja followed suit by endeavouring to persuade Bogle to return. Bogle thought that the obstacle to his journey originated with the Deb Raja, but it seems just as likely that the Deb Raja was merely carrying out the wishes of the Penchen Rimpochi. Eventually these difficulties were overcome, and he left Tashi-cho-jong on October 13, 1774, with Hamilton. The route taken was viâ Paro to Phari-jong, in the Chumbi Valley, which, after a visit to the Paro Penlop, was reached by the Mission on October 23. It would be outside the province of this note to follow Bogle in his journey in Tibet, though his account of it is full of interest. It will be sufficient to say that though he was forbidden to visit Lhasa he spent some time at Tashi Lhunpo, made great friends with the Penchen Rimpochi, and fully enlisted his sympathies with Warren Hastings’ plans. Bogle left Tashi Lhunpo on April 7, 1775, and on May 8 reached Tashi-cho-jong, and apparently stayed there for about a month to carry out his trade negotiations with the Deb Raja before returning to ​Bengal. The temper of the Deb Raja does not seem to have been so cordial as at the time of Bogle’s first visit, but “after many tiresome conferences and further negotiations, in which the Penchen Rimpochi’s people assisted,” Bogle was able to obtain the Deb Raja’s consent to his articles of trade. He failed, however, to obtain permission for English or European traders to enter the Deb Raja’s dominions, and it was evidently on this point chiefly that the conferences were “tiresome” and ultimately “fruitless.” The other difficulty he had to face was that freedom of trade in Bhutan would affect the Deb Raja’s personal profits from the monopoly he enjoyed.
Bogle's Impression of the Country.—Bogle, as before noticed, carried away a much more pleasing impression of the country than any of his successors after Turner, except myself. Indeed, he gives us a picture of good government and Arcadian simplicity. It must be admitted, however, that the educated Bhutanese whom one meets outside their country, though rough in manners, are pleasant and agreeable, and that they were, as a people, never so black as they were painted by Eden, who had very good reasons for only seeing the worst side of their character. A brief account of Bogle’s impressions will be interesting, as they coincide very much with the opinion formed by me during my Mission of 1906, and serve to show that the very unfavourable judgment passed upon them by Eden was hardly a true one, and was caused very much by his own treatment. Bogle found the government of Bhutan to be based on a theocracy which, while retaining a nominal, and to some extent a real, supremacy in the affairs of the country, had entrusted the administration of all temporal matters to a body of laymen. This body retained the election of the Deb Raja, the head of the temporal power, and his deposition in its own hands, made him accountable to itself for the conduct of affairs, and without its consent the Deb Raja could undertake no measure of importance in the management of the State. ​As to the exact constitution of this theocracy, Bogle is not very clear, but he probably means that it was made up of the priests and heads of the monasteries under the Dharma Raja.
He divides the inhabitants into three classes—the priests, the servants or officers of Government, and the landholders and husbandmen.
The priests were formed from the body of the people, were received at an early age, and when admitted into orders took oaths of chastity. The second class comprehended the ministers and governors of provinces, tax-collectors, and ail their train of dependents. They were not prohibited from marrying, yet, finding it a bar to their preferment, seldom entered that state. Like the priests, they were taken from families in the country. They were bred up in the palaces under the patronage of some man in office, by whom they were fed and clothed, but received no wages. They seldom arrived at places of trust or consequence till far advanced in life, and passed through all the gradations of service. It was no uncommon thing to see a minister as expert in mending a shoe or making a tunic as in settling the business of the nation. The landholders and husbandmen, though by far the most numerous class, and “that which gives birth to the other two,” were entirely excluded from any share in the administration. Bogle evidently means that the members of the agricultural class have no chance of entering public life unless they are caught up early in childhood and trained in the households of men in office. He is not very clear in his definition of the position of the lamas. “The lamas,” he says, “are first in rank, and nominally first in power. They enjoy a joint authority, and in all their deliberations are assisted by the clergy. The lamas, though nominally superior in government, yet, as they owe their appointment to the priests, are tutored by them from their earliest infancy, and deriving all their knowledge of public affairs from them, are entirely under their management. The ​right of electing the Deb Raja is vested in the superiors of their order jointly with the lamas. . . .” “Their sacred profession, so far from disqualifying them from the conduct of civil affairs, is the means of advancing them to it. They are often appointed to the government of provinces, employed as ministers, or entrusted with other offices of the first consideration in the State.” Turner found that the governing class was educated in the monasteries. The distinction which Bogle intended to draw between the priests and the lamas was probably that the lamas were those who, having received a religious or semireligious training in the monasteries, elected afterwards to enter the secular posts of Government, retaining at the same time a close connection with the religious side of the national life, especially in the matter of celibacy. They were represented by the Deb Raja, his governors, ministers, and councillors, in contradistinction to the priesthood, who, with the Dharma Raja as its head, concerned itself primarily with the religious administration of the country. The institution of caste was unknown, and in the absence of any sort of hereditary distinction any one might rise to the highest office.
The appointment to offices, the collection and management of the revenue, the command and direction of the military force, and the power of life and death were vested in the Deb Raja.
The provincial governors were entrusted with very ample jurisdiction. The policing of the country, the levying of taxes, and the administration of justice were committed to them. Complaints against them were seldom preferred or attended to, and their judgments were revised by the “Chief” only in capital cases or others of great consequence. They were not continued long in one station. They lived in a large palace surrounded by priests and officers, and their duties were an epitome of the court of the “Chief.”
Among the non-governing class of the population, nearly every one was a landholder or husbandman. There ​were few mechanics, and hardly any distinction of profession. Every family was acquainted with the most useful arts, and contained within itself almost all the necessaries of life. Even clothes, a considerable article in so rude a climate, were generally the produce of the husbandman’s industry. He bartered the fruits of his industry in Tibet for wool, which was spun, dyed, and woven by the females of the family, and what remained was taken to Rangpur and exchanged for hogs, salt fish, coarse linen, dyes, spices, and broadcloth. This class “live at home, cultivate their lands, pay taxes, serve in the wars, and beget children, who succeed to honours to which they themselves could never aspire.”
The regular army consisted of six hundred men in pay, but all lands in Bhutan were held by military service, and every man in the country was a soldier when called upon. The taxes were moderate in themselves, and rendered still less oppressive by the simple manner of collecting them. Every family, according to its substance, was rated at a particular sum, which was often received in produce, and thus the country was unencumbered with any heavy expense for tax-gatherers. At the same time Bogle mentions the significant fact that the officers of Government received no salaries. The expenses of government, therefore, were small, and the principal drains on the public treasury were an annual payment to the Penchen Rimpochi and the support of the priests.
With regard to the general character of the people, Bogle writes:
“The simplicity of their manners, their slight intercourse with strangers and strong sense of religion preserve the Bhutanese from many vices to which more polished nations are addicted. They are strangers to falsehood and ingratitude. Theft and every other species of dishonesty to which the lust of money gives birth are little known. Murder is uncommon, and in general is the effect of anger, and not covetousness. The celibacy of a large ​part of the people, however, is naturally productive of many irregularities, and the coldness of the climate inclines them to an excessive use of spirituous liquor. The more I see of the Bhutanese the more I am pleased with them. The common people are good-humoured, downright, and, I think, thoroughly trusty. The statesmen have some of the art which belongs to their profession. They are the best built race of men I ever saw, many of them very handsome, with complexions as fair as the French.”
In its relations with Tibet Bogle seems to have found Bhutan a dependent Power; but the Tibetan authority over the country could not have been very strong if the Deb Raja was able to exclude Tibetan traders from his country, as appears to have been the case.
The trade of the country was almost entirely in the hands of the Deb Raja, his ministers and governors, who held the monopoly of it both with Bengal and Tibet. The exports to Bengal were chiefly ponies, musk, cow-tails, coarse red blankets, and striped woollen cloths half a yard wide. The imports were chiefly broadcloth, spices, dyes, Malda cloth, coarse linen, hogs, and salt fish. The great trade with Bengal was carried on by means of the annual caravans to Rangpur, from which the Government of Bengal received about Rs. 2000 by way of duty, and there was also trade with Dinajpur. The great obstacle which Bogle found in inducing the Deb Raja to allow open trade through Bhutan into Tibet was the monopoly of it which the Raja enjoyed along with his ministers, and the profits of which, he was afraid, the admission of foreign merchants would lessen. This disinclination to admit foreign traders was not confined to traders from Bengal only; even the merchants of Tibet were not allowed to purchase goods in Bhutan beyond exchanging salt and wool for rice.
The following were the articles of trade drawn up by Bogle with the Deb Raja:
“Whereas the trade between Bengal and Tibet was formerly considerable, and all Hindu and Mussalman ​merchants were allowed to trade into Nepal, which was the centre of communication between the two countries, and whereas from the wars and oppressions in Nepal the merchants have of late years been unable to travel in that country, the Governor as well as the Deb Raja, united in friendship, being desirous of removing these obstacles so that merchants may carry on their trade free and secure as formerly, have agreed on the following articles:
“That the Bhutanese shall enjoy the privilege of trading to Bengal as formerly, and shall be allowed to proceed either themselves or by their gomasthas to all places in Bengal for the purpose of trading and selling their horses free from duty or hindrance.
“That the duty hitherto exacted at Rangpur from the Bhutan caravans be abolished.
“That the Deb Raja shall allow all Hindu and Mussalman merchants freely to pass and repass through his country between Bengal and Tibet.
“That no English or European merchants shall enter the Deb Raja’s dominions.
“That the exclusive trade in sandal, indigo, skins, tobacco, betel-nut, and pan shall remain with the Bhutanese, and that the merchants be prohibited from importing the same into the Deb Raja’s dominions, and that the Governor shah, confirm this in regard to indigo by an order to Rangpur.”
Captain Turner, in the report of his Mission in 1783, alludes to this “treaty” of Bogle’s, and says the Deb Raja acknowledged its validity and that there was every prospect of its provisions being kept, and in February 1786 Purangir Gosain, the Company’s agent in Tibet, reported that many merchants had found their way from Bengal to Tashi Lhunpo through Bhutan.
Soon after Bogle’s return to Calcutta in June 1775, Warren Hastings determined to prosecute the intercourse which had been so happily opened with Bhutan, and in November 1775 appointed Hamilton, who had been ​Bogle’s companion, to a second Mission to the Deb Raja. Hamilton reached the frontier in January 1776, and was invited by the Deb Raja to proceed to Poonakha. He endeavoured to enter Bhutan by the Lakhi Duar to Paro, but obstacles appear to have been raised to his doing this, and he eventually followed Bogle’s route by the Buxa Duar. He reached Poonakha on April 6, 1776, and Tashi-cho-jong in the May of that year. The chief object of Hamilton’s mission was to decide on the claims of the Deb Raja to the districts of Ambari Falakata and Julpaish, and he came to the conclusion that equity demanded their restoration. He also reported that if restitution were made the Deb Raja would probably be induced to fulfil his agreement with Bogle and only levy moderate transit duties on merchandise. It is not improbable that, as Eden remarks, this concession was made to the Deb Raja more in the interest of Warren Hastings’ policy than on the intrinsic merits of the case, as there can be no doubt that the claims of the Bhutan Government to the Falakata and Julpaish districts were quite untenable.
In July 1777 Hamilton was sent on a third Mission, to congratulate the new Deb Raja on his accession.
The fourth Mission, under Captain Turner, took place in 1783. In 1779 it was arranged, on the invitation of the Penchen Rimpochi, that Bogle should meet him in Pekin. Unfortunately, both the Lama and Bogle died before this project could be carried into effect. Not long afterwards intelligence reached Calcutta that the reincarnation of the late Penchen Rimpochi had taken place, and Warren Hastings proposed to the Board of Directors to take advantage of this auspicious event and send a second deputation to Tibet. Turner was selected for this service, and nominated on January 9, 1783, and soon afterwards left Calcutta on his Mission, accompanied by Lieutenant Samuel Davis as draftsman and surveyor, and Mr. Robert Saunders as surgeon. He entered the hills by the Buxa Duar, and followed almost exactly the same route as Bogle to ​Tashi-cho-jong. During his stay in Bhutan with the Deb Raja Turner was witness to a small civil war occasioned by the rebellion of Angdu-phodang, which was ultimately quelled by the Deb Raja. The fighting, he said, on both sides gave him a very poor idea of the “military accomplishments” of the Bhutanese, and though several engagements took place between the opposing parties very few on either side were killed or wounded. He attributes this display of martial weakness more to want of discipline than to actual lack of courage. The principal weapon in use was the bow and arrow, and Turner says the arrows were sometimes poisoned. A few of the soldiers were armed with very unserviceable matchlocks. Turner considers the Bhutanese to be expert swordsmen, in which he differs widely from Macgregor’s account of his experience in the Bhutan war nearly a hundred years later. Before leaving Bhutan, Turner visited Wandipore, or Angdu-phodang, and Poonakha, and ultimately entered Tibet by the Paro and Phari routes. Turner does not add much to the knowledge of the country acquired by Bogle, and says little or nothing about its political institutions. He describes the Deb Raja as a popular and prudent administrator, and seems to have experienced great kindness and hospitality at his hands. The Deb, he says, was an “intelligent man, possessed with a versatility of genius and spirit of inquiry” and fond of mechanics, and derived great amusement from Turner’s electric battery. The Raja “would never venture to draw even a spark himself, but would occasionally call in parties to be electrified, and much enjoy the foolish figure they made on the sensation of a shock.” The Raja also possessed a knowledge of medicine equal to any of the physicians in his dominions, and was interested in experimenting with English drugs on himself and his Court doctor. This interest, however, waned after an overdose of ipecacuanha. At Poonakha, the summer residence of the Court, there was a fruit garden of oranges, lemons, pomegranates, peaches, apples, and walnuts. Very excellent turnips ​were grown, but the potatoes planted by Bogle had failed. The flower garden contained hollyhocks, sunflowers, African marigolds, nasturtiums, poppies, larkspurs, and roses. At one entertainment he describes Turner had strawberries for tea, and a bull-fight closed the day’s amusements. He found the monasteries the educational centres of the country. Boys were taken from the villages and educated there, and in families containing more than four boys it was obligatory to dedicate one of them to the order. The monastery was the channel to public office, and, in fact, nearly all the Government officials were chosen from men who had been trained in one. Marriage was an obstacle to any rise in rank, and but few of the official class were married; and this practice of celibacy, common to the priestly and governing classes—to the one from motives of religion, and to the other from motives of self-interest—formed a natural bar to the increase of population.
Neither from the narrative of his Mission nor from his report of it to Warren Hastings can it be gathered that Turner was charged with any particular political business in Bhutan, but Eden says that it appears from the proceedings of the Collector of Rangpur of June 11, 1789, that he was instructed to cede to Bhutan the district of Falakata, as the result, it may be presumed, of Hamilton’s report. The only matter of any political interest, so far as Bhutan is concerned, to be found in his report, dated March 2, 1784, of the results of his Mission is the following opinion he records about trade relations with Bhutan:
“The regulations for carrying on the commerce of the Company through the dominions of Bhutan by means of the agency of native merchants were settled by the treaty entered into by Mr. Bogle in the year 1775. The Deb Raja having acknowledged to me the validity of that treaty, it became unnecessary to enter into another, since no new privileges and immunities appear to be requisite until the commerce can be established on a different footing ​with respect to the views and interests of the Raja of Bhutan, by whose concurrence alone the proposed commercial intercourse with Tibet can be made to flourish. I should be sorry to suggest a doubt of its ever receiving a check from any conduct in that Government of a hostile tendency.”
There can be no doubt in the mind of any reader of the accounts of Bogle’s and Turner’s Missions that both these officers were well received and treated, and that the general disposition of the Bhutan Government towards the Company was cordial and friendly, and Turner’s confidence that the Bhutan Government meant to fulfil its engagements was not a foolishly misplaced one at the time, as Eden would seem to imply. Hastings actually succeeded in establishing Purangir Gosain as a diplomatic agent at the Tibetan Court, and Indian merchants had commenced by the year 1786 to pass freely through Bhutan into Tibet. Thus so far it must be acknowledged that Bogle’s Mission was successful, and that the Bhutan Government did fulfil its engagements. Unfortunately the Nepal war with Tibet, which broke out in 1792, destroyed all these bright prospects. The Tibetans and the Chinese Government suspected that we were covertly assisting the Nepalese. We lost their confidence, and the Tibetan passes were closed to natives of India, most probably through Chinese influence. Thus the chief object of Bogle’s negotiation was defeated, while so far as the further development of trade with Bhutan itself was concerned, what had been gained was lost by the series of frontier disputes which took place between the Company and the Bhutan Government, and the consequent rupture of the friendly feeling between the two Governments which had been established by Bogle’s and Turner’s Missions.
The chief object of the fifth Mission, under Pemberton, was to enable the Government to enter into direct communication with the Bhutan Durbar, as it had become evident that the frontier officers of Bhutan had ​repeatedly withheld from the Durbar complaints addressed to it by Government on the subject of frontier aggressions. Accordingly, after the Bhutanese aggressions of 1836 had been repelled the Dharma and Deb Rajas were informed that it was the intention of Government to despatch an envoy to their capital. The replies to this communication, which was dated April 6, 1837, evinced a desire on the part of the Deb to postpone the Mission, and he had to be informed that Government was determined on the Mission and intended to send their envoy after the rainy season was over.
The conduct of the Mission was entrusted to Pemberton, with Ensign Blake as assistant and in command of the escort and Dr. Griffiths as botanist and in medical charge. The escort was to consist of fifty men from the Assam Seebundy Corps, but owing to the difficulty in supplying rations for this number only twenty-five men were taken.
Pemberton, being anxious to obtain information concerning Eastern Bhutan, determined to enter Bhutan by the Banksa Duar instead of following Bogle’s and Turner’s route by Buxa. This determination produced a good deal of obstruction on the part of the Bhutanese. Pemberton was detained for some time at Dum Duma, on the frontier, waiting for letters from the Dewangiri Raja, and again at Dewangiri after he had reached it, and every attempt was made to induce him to return to the frontier and proceed by Buxa Duar to Poonakha. This, however, he managed to avoid doing, and was eventually conducted through the Tongsa Penlop’s country to the confines of Bhutan and Tibet, and thence by a westerly route to Poonakha. He had intended to return to Goalpara by the Cheerung route, but permission to do this was refused, and he was compelled to take the Buxa route back to India. The number of days occupied in travelling from Dewangiri to Poonakha was twenty-six, but owing to the unsettled state of the country and the difficulty of obtaining porters the actual number of days ​occupied on the journey was sixty-eight, and Poonakha was not reached till April 1. During his stay at Poonakha a rebellion broke out, the object of which was to dethrone the Deb Raja. Both Turner on the previous and Eden on the subsequent Mission came in for a civil war. The Mission was in its progress through the country received everywhere with marked distinction, was waited upon by the Subahs of the districts through which it passed, and was properly treated at Poonakha. Pemberton, however, did not succeed in obtaining the consent of the Durbar to the treaty he was instructed to proffer, and he was refused permission to proceed to Tibet. The Durbar even refused to forward a letter to Lhasa. The movements of the members of the Mission were closely watched, and intercourse by the villagers on the route with the Mission was so closely prohibited that it was with the utmost difficulty that any information was obtained about the country. The draft treaty which Pemberton submitted to the Bhutan Government was extremely moderate in its terms. It provided for the same privilege of freely trading in Bhutan by the subjects of the British-Indian Government that the Bhutanese already enjoyed in India; for the mutual surrender of criminals and runaway raiyats; for the more punctual payment of the Bhutan tribute for the Duars, and its payment in cash instead of in kind, and for power for the British-Indian Government to take possession of any Duar the tribute of which should fall into arrears, and hold the same till the arrears were paid off; for decisive measures by the Deb Raja to stop aggressions by the Dewangiri Raja and other of his subjects on the frontier; for the settlement of boundaries and the appointment of a Bhutanese agent at Gauhati and Rangpur. After many protracted discussions, the Deb and Dharma Rajas and other members of the council, except the Tongsa Penlop, were ready to sign the treaty, but owing to the opposition of the Tongsa Penlop, who divided the supreme power in the country with the Paro Penlop, and whose ​interests were affected by the arrangements for the punctual payment of the tribute for the Assam Duars, the Bhutan Government refused its consent.
But though the Mission was politically a failure, Pemberton, in spite of the difficulties thrown in his way, succeeded in drawing up an admirable report on the country and its internal government.
In 1862 it was finally determined to send a sixth Mission into Bhutan, by the most convenient route, without waiting any longer for the consent of the Bhutan Durbar. Eden was selected by the Government of India, and received his instructions in Colonel Durand’s letter. No. 493, dated August 11, 1863.
In these instructions the Government of India set forth the necessity, which had arisen from the repeated outrages of the Bhutanese within our territories and those of Sikhim and Cooch Behar, of revising and improving the relations between the British Government and Bhutan, and their determination to send Eden to the Court of Bhutan for the purpose. Eden was to explain “clearly and distinctly, but in a friendly and conciliatory spirit,” to the Bhutan Government the reasons which rendered it necessary for the British Government to occupy Ambari Falakata and withhold its revenues, and that the occupation would continue only so long as the Bhutan Government refused to comply with our just demands and restore the captives and property which had been carried off from British territory, Sikhim, and Cooch Behar, but that if the Bhutan Government manifested a desire to do substantial justice the district would be held in pledge for their future good conduct, and a sum equal to one-third of its net revenues would be paid to them, in the same manner as is done with the Assam Duars.
Inquiry was to be made into any acts of specific aggression complained of by the Bhutanese, arrangements made for the mutual rendition of criminals, for the reference to the British Government for settlement of any dispute ​between Bhutan and the States of Sikhim and Cooch Behar. The subjects of keeping a British agent in Bhutan and of free commerce between the two countries were to be approached if it seemed advisable, but negotiations on these points were to be entirely subordinated to the main political objects of the Mission. All available information about Bhutan was to be obtained.
The above demands were entered in a draft treaty, and Eden was further instructed that if the Bhutan Government refused to do substantial justice and to accede to the main principles stipulated on he was to withdraw from the country and inform the Bhutan Government that Ambari Falakata would be permanently annexed, and in the event of further aggressions the British Government would take such steps as might be necessary to secure the safety of their own and the Sikhim and Cooch Behar territories.
Dr. Simpson was appointed to the medical charge of the Mission. The Mission was to proceed by Darjeeling, and in the beginning of November Eden arrived there to arrange his preparations. He could get no reply from the Dharma and Deb Rajas to the announcement of his intention of entering Bhutan, and it turned out that the country was then undergoing one of its periodical rebellions. The Deb Raja had been unseated by the Poonakha Jongpen and Tongsa Penlop, and compelled to take refuge in the Jong of Simtoka. The Paro Penlop was the only powerful chief who remained faithful to his cause. The insurgent party set up a sham Deb Raja to receive the Mission, but at the time it reached Poonakha there was in fact no settled Government in the country. The Government of India, however, thought that as the rebellion had been successful and a substantive Government apparently established the Mission should proceed.
This state of things accounted for the constant obstacles and interruptions which the Mission met with on its journey. It started on December 4, and Chebu Lama accompanied ​it as a sort of intermediary. On the 11th the Mission reached Dalingkote, and was detained there till the 29th. It had great difficulty in procuring provisions; many of the coolies, seeing the questionable manner in which the Jongpen received the Mission, ran away; the Deb sent evasive answers to Eden’s letters; every attempt was made to detain the Mission indefinitely, and when Eden finally moved on on the 29th he was compelled, for want of transport, to leave most of his tents, stores, and baggage behind and nearly half his escort. At Sipchu further obstruction and difficulties in obtaining transport were experienced, and he had to consider whether to move on with a further diminished escort or to return. In view of the orders he had received from Government at Darjeeling, and its evident desire that the Mission should push on, and thinking that it was unlikely that the Bhutan Government would dare to treat a British envoy with insult or violence, Eden determined to proceed, taking with him only fifteen Sikhs and ten Seebundy sappers, and leaving the rest of his escort, all his heavy baggage, his assistant, Mr. Power, and the commissariat sergeant, moonshi, native doctor, and all the camp-followers that could be spared behind.
Sipchu was left on February 2, the ascent of the pass from Saigon commenced on the 3rd, and the party halted for the night in the snow at an elevation of 8798 feet. The next day the pass was crossed at 10,000 feet, and the descent to Donga-chhu-chhu (8595 feet) made through snow with much difficulty. The party halted the next day on the banks of the Am-mo-chhu, and Eden draws attention in his narrative to the advantage of a route into Tibet through Bhutan up this valley. The next halt was made at Sangbay, and there further obstruction was met with.
The Jongpen refused all help, as he had received no orders to allow the Mission to pass. A good many of the coolies were found to be frost-bitten. Eden had to abandon all idea of bringing on the escort he had left behind, and sent orders to Mr. Power to return to Darjeeling, taking ​back all the party and stores left at Sipchu and all the escort left at Dalingkote, except a guard of five Seebundys over the stores, which were placed in charge of the Jongpen. At Shay-bee, the next halting-place, the Mission was met by some Zinkaffs from the Durbar, who gave out that they had been ordered to turn the Mission back. On Eden sending for them, it turned out that they had no letters from the Durbar for him, but two to the Jongpen of Dalingkote, which they showed. One letter was full of professions of friendship for the British Government, and instructed the Jongpen to settle any dispute Eden might have with him about the frontier, but said not a word about the Mission being allowed to go forward or being turned back. The other was a most violent and intemperate production, threatening the Jongpen with loss of life for having permitted the Mission to cross the frontier, and ordering him to pay a fine of Rs. 70 to each of the Zinkaffs, and to entice Eden to return, but if he could not get rid of him, to send him on by the Samchee and Dongna road. The Zinkaffs tried to get Eden to go back to get on to this route, but as he was already only two days from Samchee, and to retrace his steps would have meant a journey of fifteen days, he declined, and left Shay-bee on February 10 for Paro. The Mission had first to cross the Saigon-la Pass (12,150 feet), and camp in snow at 11,800 feet. Though the thermometer registered 13° none of the natives, Sikhs or Bengalis, suffered from the cold. After descending into the Hah Valley the Mission was delayed in crossing the next pass on its route, the Che-la (12,490 feet), by the heavy snow. On the 19th Eden, hearing that messengers from the Durbar were on their way to stop him, determined to make the effort, though the snow was not really in a proper state for the attempt. The march was nearly ending in disaster. The snow was soft, and varying from three to eight feet in depth; men, horses, and mules were constantly sinking in it; and when the top of the pass was reached at six o’clock in the evening it was found that the descent ​was even more difficult on account of the snow. Evening came on while the party were still on the pass, and to have halted there for the night would have meant the death of every man in the camp, as there was no going to the right or the left. There was nothing for it but to drive the coolies on, and by eleven o’clock, after progressing at the rate of a quarter of a mile an hour, the Mission was fortunate enough to reach a forest where the coolies could bivouac. Eden, however, with some of the coolies, pushed on, and reached the nearest village at one o’clock in the morning, after having marched through deep snow continuously for fifteen hours without food. Luckily the weather had been clear, with a bright moon. The next morning the Mission was met by the Zinkaffs who had been sent to turn it back. They delivered a most impertinent message, saying that they had been sent to go back with Eden to the frontier “to rearrange with him the frontier boundaries and to receive charge again of the resumed Assam Duars”; after this had been done our further demands were to be inquired into, and if these Zinkaffs “considered it necessary” the Mission was to be allowed to go on to Poonakha. Eden said he would do nothing of the kind, but would either proceed to Poonakha or return to Darjeeling and report to his Government that the Bhutan Durbar declined to receive him. Then the Zinkaffs begged him to proceed. The letter they delivered from the Deb Raja was of the usual evasive character, declaring that the Deb never declined to receive the Mission, but that it would be better to investigate complaints on the frontier. As the letter contained no definite refusal to receive the Mission, Eden determined to push on, and reached Paro on February 22. Here again the Mission was detained, and its reception was at first unfriendly. The ex-Penlop, an old man, informed Eden that he was far from acknowledging the power of the present Deb, and that he had only suspended hostilities on the side of the ex-Deb on account of the approach of the Mission. The real power, he said, just then rested ​with the Tongsa Penlop, and the Dharma and Deb Rajas and councillors were mere puppets in his hands. Finally the old Penlop and his adopted son, the young Penlop, became quite friendly, and after the Mission had been sixteen days at Paro without any communication having been received from the Deb Raja the old Penlop advised Eden to proceed, gave him guides, and promised to arrange to send on his letters.
At the next stage more messengers arrived from the Durbar, and the same efforts were made as before to induce the Mission to return, with the same result. At Simtoka the Mission found the ex-Deb in retirement. He declined to receive a visit from Chebu Lama, on the grounds that any member of the Mission holding any communication with him might excite the suspicion of the Durbar against it, which was considerate of him. After crossing the Dokyong-la Pass (10,019 feet) the Poonakha Valley came in view, and on March 15 the Mission reached Poonakha. There the party were met by a messenger to say that they must not approach by the road which passed under the palace gates, and they were sent to their camping-ground by a route so precipitous that they had great difficulty in making the descent. The subsequent ill-treatment of the Mission, and how Eden was forced under compulsion to sign an agreement to surrender the Assam Duars, how the Mission narrowly escaped from worse treatment by forced night-marches from Poonakha to Paro, were reported confidentially to Government, and the details are not supplied in his general report. They are to be found in Rennie’s “History of the Bhutan War.” The opposition to the Mission was entirely directed by the then Tongsa Penlop, father of Sir Ugyen, who was no doubt actuated by his desire to get back the Assam Duars, which were part of his chiefship, and the annexation of which had affected his personal interests even more closely than those of the Durbar. Judging by subsequent events, it would have been wiser, no doubt, for Eden to have returned to Darjeeling instead of pushing ​his way to Poonakha. He had received quite enough opposition before crossing the Cho-la Pass, certainly by the time he had reached Paro, to justify his doing so. The Government of India would have had sufficient cause to annex the Duars, as they eventually did, and the indignities to the Mission would have been spared. At the same time, one cannot help admiring the courage with which Eden faced the difficulties in his way, his determination to leave the Bhutan Government no loophole by which they could evade the responsibility of the Mission not reaching them, and the patience with which he endeavoured to gain from the Durbar the terms he had been sent to obtain.
The Mission left Poonakha on March 29, and returned to Darjeeling through Paro, where it stayed one day on April 2. The same day the insurrection broke out again.
On the termination of the Tibet Mission, and to mark the approval of the British Government of the friendly attitude of the Bhutanese and the assistance rendered by the Tongsa Penlop in bringing about a friendly settlement, the King-Emperor, in 1905, was pleased to confer on Ugyen Wang-chuk a Knight Commandership of the Indian Empire. I was in consequence deputed by the Government of India to present the insignia of the order to the Tongsa at Poonakha.
The Mission was accompanied by Major Rennick and Mr. Paul, and an escort of the 40th Pathans. The route followed was from Gangtak viâ Chumbi, Hah, Paro, and Tashi-cho-jong to Poonakha.
This Mission was accorded a warm, even enthusiastic, welcome, and succeeded in establishing relations of the most friendly character with the Bhutanese, who not many years before were bitterly hostile towards the British Government. After the ceremony at Poonakha, the Mission, at the invitation of Sir Ugyen, visited Tongsa and Bya-gha, where they were most hospitably entertained by the Tongsa Penlop. The Mission returned from Tashi-cho-jong viâ Lingshi and Tibet.
​In 1907 I was deputed on my second Mission to Poonakha, to be present, as the representative of the Government of India, at the installation of Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk as Hereditary Maharaja of Bhutan.
I was accompanied by Major Rennick, Captain Hyslop, and Mr. Campbell, the escort being provided by the 62nd Punjabis.
The route followed was from Gangtak viâ Chumbi, Phari, over the Temu-la to Paro, and thence by the former route to Poonakha.
Nothing could have been more cordial than my reception. The members of the Mission divided at Poonakha. I returned viâ Paro to the Hah Valley, and thence down the Dongna-chhu to the Duars, Mr. Campbell returning with the escort to Chumbi, and Major Rennick and Captain
CHAPTER XXI
BRITISH RELATIONS WITH BHUTAN FROM 1772
Nepalese invasion of Tibet, 1792. The Athara Duars. Friction with Bhutan. Our occupation of the Bengal Duars. Expedition against Bhutan. Loss of guns. Treaty of Rawa Pani. Whole of Duars taken by us. Tongsa Penlop accompanies expedition to Lhasa. Sir Ugyen’s visit to Calcutta. Sir Ugyen elected Maharaja.
So far as records show, the earliest relations between the Government of India and Bhutan began in 1772. In that year the Bhutanese set up a claim to Cooch Behar, invaded the State, and carried off the Raja, Durunder Narain, and his brother the Dewan Deo. The Cooch Behar family solicited the aid of the Government of India, which was at once accorded, and a small force, under Captain Jones, was sent to drive the Bhutanese across the frontier. The expedition was successful. Captain Jones drove the Bhutanese out of Cooch Behar, and captured the forts of Daling, Chichacotta, and Buxa. The Bhutanese then appealed for aid to the Tashi Lama, who at the time was Regent of Tibet during the minority of the Delai Lama. The Lama addressed a very friendly letter to the Governor-General, Warren Hastings, which was read in Council on March 29, 1774, in which he sued for peace on behalf of the Government of Bhutan, and suggested that though they deserved punishment they had been sufficiently chastised. In this letter Bhutan is claimed as a dependency of Tibet. A treaty of peace with Bhutan followed, which was signed at Fort William on April 25, 1774.
​In this treaty the Company agreed to deliver up territory taken from Bhutan during the war, exacting from the Bhutan Government an annual tribute for the Chichacotta province of five Tangan horses, which was the acknowledgment paid to the “Bihar Raja.” The Bhutan Government were to deliver up the Cooch Behar Raja and his brother. The Bhutanese merchants were to be allowed the same privileges of trade free of duties as formerly, with permission for their caravans to go to Rangpur annually. The Deb Raja was to abstain from encouraging incursions into the Company’s country, from molesting raiyats who had come under the Company’s protection, and to engage to deliver up raiyats who might desert from the Company’s territories; to submit all disputes between Bhutan and the Company’s subjects to the decision of the Company’s magistrate; to refuse shelter to any Sunniassees hostile to the English, and to allow English troops to follow them into Bhutan; and to permit the Company to cut timber in the forests under the hills, and to protect the woodcutters.
Warren Hastings took advantage of the Penchen Rimpochi’s friendly letter to send a Mission to Tibet with the view of establishing communication with the Court at Lhasa and opening trade with that country. Bogle, who was sent in charge of the Mission, was also charged with the duty of negotiating with the Bhutan Durbar for the opening of a trade route through their country to Tibet. The Mission started on May 6, 1774, and Bogle was successful in gaining the consent of the Deb Raja to the passage of trade free of duty through his country. Articles of trade were drawn up between the two Governments, and for a few years trade from Bengal was actually allowed to pass through Bhutan into Tibet. A full account of Bogle’s Mission, so far as it related to Bhutan, is given in another chapter.
Two small Missions under Hamilton almost immediately followed on this important Mission of Bogle. In ​1775 Warren Hastings sent Hamilton into Bhutan to examine into the claims of the Deb Raja to Falakata and Julpaish, in the present Jalpaiguri district. Hamilton came to a conclusion in favour of the Deb Raja’s rights. In 1777 he was again sent to Bhutan to congratulate a new Deb Raja on his succession. In 1779 Warren Hastings, still keeping steadily in view his policy of maintaining regular intercourse with Bhutan and Tibet, determined to send Bogle again as envoy to the Penchen Rimpochi in Tibet, but as news arrived that the Rimpochi was about to take a journey to Pekin the Mission was postponed; and it was afterwards arranged, at the suggestion of the Lama, with the consent of the Emperor of China, that Bogle should meet the Lama at Pekin. This plan was most unfortunately frustrated by the death of the Penchen Rimpochi, at Pekin, from small-pox, and not long afterwards Bogle died in Calcutta of cholera. There can be little doubt that had this meeting with the Penchen Rimpochi taken place under such auspicious circumstances the whole course of our subsequent relations with Tibet and Bhutan would have been different.
A few years later the reincarnation of the Penchen Rimpochi in Tibet was reported to Warren Hastings; the Governor-General at once seized this further opportunity offered him of prosecuting his policy with the Lhasa Government, despatched Captain Turner in 1783 as his envoy to the Court of the infant Lama, and made him the bearer of the congratulations of the Indian Government on the event. Turner was also charged with letters to the Deb Raja, and it would appear from his report that he was to stimulate the Bhutan Durbar to keep to its engagements under the articles of trade concluded by Bogle. Eden also says that Turner was instructed to cede to the Government of Bhutan the district of Falakata, in Jalpaiguri. Turner’s Mission to Tibet was the last for many years. So far Warren Hastings’ policy had been successful. He had succeeded in establishing friendly relations with ​Bhutan and Tibet, in opening trade through the one country to the other, and in having a diplomatic agent, Purangir Gosain, at the Tibetan Court.
In 1792 the Nepalese invaded Tibet. The Chinese sent an expedition to the assistance of Tibet, the result of which was that the Gurkhas were driven out of the country, and sustained a crushing defeat from the Chinese general in their own country only twenty miles from Katmandu. The results of this war had a most unfortunate effect on our relations with Tibet. The Chinese suspected that the Indian Government had supported the Nepalese, and, in consequence, closed all the passes of Tibet to natives of India, and they have remained closed ever since. While this was the end of Hastings’ policy in Tibet, our friendly relations with Bhutan began about the same time to wane, and after the year 1825, when the first Burmese War broke out, to seriously suffer from the constant aggressions committed by the Bhutanese on our frontier. The situation ultimately became impossible, and had to be put an end to by the Bhutan War of 1865. A full account of these troubles will be found in Eden’s report of his Mission to Bhutan in 1863.
The earliest claim to any portion of British territory raised by the Bhutan Government was to a portion of the Zamindari of Baikantpore, including the mahals of Ain Falakata and Julpaish. From Markham’s account, this claim appears to have been made as far back as 1775, and was one of the objects of Hamilton’s Mission. Eden dates the claim 1787, but it was no doubt made earlier, though the territory was not ceded till 1789. Eden maintains that the claim was untenable, and it seems probable that the Government, anxious to conciliate the Deb Raja and to further their trade policy with Tibet, were too ready to accept Hamilton’s report, which was favourable to the Bhutan Durbar. In 1787 claims were also raised to the mahal of Holaghat on behalf of the Bijni Raja, and to the mahal of Goomah on behalf of the Zamindar of ​Beddragong; but the respective owners of these mahals repudiated the claims, and they were dropped. In 1815 some dispute arose about frontier boundaries, and Babu Bishen Kant Bose was deputed to the Court of the Dharma and Deb Rajas to settle it. He has left an interesting report of the state of the country as he found it. From this year till 1825-26 there is no account of any communication with the Bhutanese.
The first Burmese War broke out at this time. We drove the Burmese out of Assam, assumed the government of Lower Assam, and in becoming possessors of this province we also found we had inherited the very unsatisfactory relations of the Assamese with the Bhutanese. The nature of these relations must be briefly explained in order to understand what follows. At the base of the lower ranges of the Bhutan hills there is a narrow strip of country, from ten to twenty miles in breadth, and extending from the Dhunseeree River, in Assam, on the east, to the River Teesta, or frontier of the Darjeeling district, on the west. This tract, which is by nature singularly rich and fertile, was known as the Bhutan Duars, or Passes. Eighteen passes entered it from the hills, each under the authority of a Jongpen, and attached to each jurisdiction was the portion of the tract lying below the pass, and bearing its name. Thus the whole locality came to be known as the Athara Duars, or Eighteen Passes. Of these Duars, eleven were situated between the Teesta and the Monass. The other seven were on the frontier of the Darrang (Goalpara) and Kamrup districts of Assam, and were generally called the Assam Duars, those bordering on the Bengal frontier being called the Bengal Duars. The Bhutanese had managed to wrest the Bengal Duars from the Mohammedan rulers of the country, probably soon after the foundation of the present Bhutan State. They never obtained absolute possession of the Assam Duars, but by their outrages and incursions they succeeded in forcing the Assam princes to purchase security by making over their Duars to the ​Bhutanese in consideration of an annual payment of yak-tails, ponies, musk, gold-dust, blankets, and knives to the estimated value of Narrainee Rs. 4785.4.
The seven Assam Duars were:
* Booree Goomah.
* Kalling.
* Churkolla.
* Banksa.
* Chappagorie.
* Chappakamar,
* Bijni.
The eleven Bengal Duars were:
* Dalingkote.
* Zumerkote.
* Chamurchi.
* Suckee.
* Buxa.
* Bhulka.
* Bara.
* Goomar.
* Keepo.
* Cherrung.
* Bagh or Bijni.
It was from these Duars that the Penlops in whose jurisdiction they lay, and under the Penlops the Jongpens, and under the Jongpens the inferior frontier officers, who were sometimes Assamese and Kacharis, derived their support. When we occupied Lower Assam the British Government renewed and continued the engagements made by the Assamese with the Bhutan Government. These arrangements were complicated, and contained in themselves the elements of constant dispute. The tribute due from Bhutan was payable in kind, and as an inevitable consequence questions constantly arose as to the value of the articles given and received. But this was not the only source of complication. The five Kamrup Duars were held exclusively by the Bhutanese, and were entirely under their management, but the two Darrang Duars of Booree Goomah and Kalling were held under a very peculiar tenure, the British Government occupying them from July to November in each year, and the Bhutan Government for the remainder of the year.
Owing to the articles sent for tribute failing to realise ​the value at which they were appraised by the Bhutanese, each year’s tribute fell short of the fixed amount, and a constantly accruing balance was shown against them. Our demands for the liquidation of these arrears were met by evasion, aggression, and the plunder and abduction of our subjects residing on the frontier. The long series of such outrages that ensued, commencing from the attack on Chetgaree, in Darrang, on October 22, 1828, down to 1864, are given in some detail in Eden’s report on his Mission. It will be sufficient to say that between 1828 and 1836 they involved five serious outrages in which British subjects were carried off and our outposts attacked, necessitating as many military expeditions by our frontier forces, the attachment of the Booree Goomah Duar from 1828 till 1834, when it was restored to the Deb Raja, the raising of the Assam Seebundy Corps (now the 2/8th Gurkha Rifles) in 1834 for the protection of the frontier, and the temporary attachment of the Banksa Duar in 1836.
The defeat of the Dewangiri Raja by Lieutenant Mathews, and the attachment of the Banksa Duar, to some extent brought the Bhutan Government to their senses. The Regent and the Tongsa Penlop addressed our Agent, declaring that none of the letters of remonstrance addressed to the Bhutan Government had ever been received, and requesting that all arrears of revenue might be taken from the Banksa Duar, and the Duar itself restored. Many of the offenders who had been engaged in outrages on our frontier were delivered up. Our Government promised to surrender the Duar on an engagement being entered into for its better management and the extradition of offenders against our Government. Unfortunately, this agreement was made with subordinate officials, as representatives of the Bhutan Government, who had, says Eden, no higher rank than that of common “chaprasis,” and was never ratified by the Deb Raja, though the Duar was surrendered in anticipation of his doing so. The belief, however, that all communications from our ​Government were withheld from their Durbar by the Bhutanese frontier officials led to the despatch of Captain Pemberton as our envoy to the Bhutan Court in 1837. This Mission was infructuous. The draft treaty which our envoy submitted to the Durbar was agreed to by the Deb and Dharma Rajas and the rest of the council, except the Tongsa Penlop, who was then the real authority in the country, and, at his instigation, was finally rejected.
In 1839 the Bhutanese resumed their outrages on the frontier, and began by carrying off twelve British subjects, one of whom died of his wounds; another was murdered because he attempted to escape; and a third was thrown down a precipice because he refused to work. Bhutan itself was at this time in a state of anarchy and civil war. The Duars were becoming depopulated. The Governor-General’s Agent proposed to remedy this state of things by our taking the Duars into farm and under our direct management. The proposal was approved of by the Government of India, and a native officer was about to be sent into Bhutan to obtain the Deb Raja’s consent, when another serious aggression was committed. Five villages were seized; the Cutcherry of the Zamindar of Khoomtoghat was attacked and plundered, and one of his servants taken off. The two eastern Duars, Kalling and Booree Goomah, were then formally attached and occupied by our officers. Not long afterwards letters came from the Dharma and Deb Rajas asking that the attached Duars might be released and an envoy be sent into Bhutan. Colonel Jenkins wished to take this opportunity to push the plan of taking a farm of the Duars, but Lord Auckland was averse to sending another Mission into the country at a time of such internal disorder and when the parties contending for superiority were almost equally divided in strength, and he preferred sending a letter of remonstrance and serious warning to the Deb Raja, intimating that if Bhutan continued much longer in its present state of anarchy and inability to manage its frontier it would become necessary to annex ​the Duars. This was no idle threat, and not long afterwards, on September 6, 1841, on the recept of a further report from the Agent, Colonel Jenkins, depicting the miserable state of the Assam Duars, their state of increasing disorganisation, and the almost entire depopulation of the tract under the Bhutan Government, the remaining Assam Duars were permanently attached, and a sum of Rs. 10,000 paid per annum to the Bhutan Government as compensation for the loss they sustained by this resumption. No written agreement was made regarding this arrangement.
In 1842, at the request of the Bhutan Government, we took charge of the Falakata mahal, as they found themselves unable to manage the estate by their own officers, and held ourselves responsible for due payment to the Bhutanese of the net proceeds of the property. This arrangement continued till 1859, when the mahal was attached.
After this annexation of the Assam Duars comparative tranquillity reigned in this part of the frontier. Outrages, however, continued in the Bengal Duars, and Eden writes regarding them: “The aggressions committed from the Bengal Duars on our territory and on Cooch Behar, and patiently borne by us, have been unparalleled in the history of nations. For thirty years scarcely a year has passed without the occurrence of several outrages, any one of which would have fully justified the adoption of a policy of reprisal or retaliation.” Dr. Campbell says on the same topic: “The whole history of our connection with Bhutan is a continuous record of injuries to our subjects all along the frontier of 250 miles, of denials of justice, and of acts of insult to our Government.”
Between 1837 and 1864 thirty cases of plundering British subjects were reported, and no fewer than eighteen elephants were carried off from the immediate neighbourhood of the Jalpaiguri cantonment. As many as twenty-five British subjects were reported by the police to have been carried off into slavery. During the same period ​fifty outrages were committed in the Cooch Behar territory, in one of which Rs. 20,936 worth of property was said to have been plundered, and altogether sixty-nine residents of that State were kidnapped.
The Dewangiri Raja (Dungl'sang Sangsub), acting with the connivance of the Tongsa Penlop, was largely concerned in the commission of these outrages. In compliance with representations from our Government, the Deb Raja ordered the Tongsa Penlop to pay into the Treasury a sum of money equal to half the value of the property plundered by his relative and subordinate, the Dewangiri Raja. This led the Penlop to address two insolent letters to Colonel Jenkins complaining that the Agent should not have addressed the Deb Raja direct, and arrogating to himself equal powers with the Deb Raja. “I am a Raja like the Deb Raja,” he wrote; “how can he possibly injure me?” There was probably a good deal of truth in this, and the inherent weakness of the central Government in Bhutan, which left the powerful officials like the Tongsa Penlop free to do entirely as they pleased, had much to do with the constant outrages on the frontier. Lord Dalhousie, in Orders No. 186, dated January 11, 1856, directed Colonel Jenkins to send strong letters of warning both to the Deb Raja and the Tongsa Penlop, requiring the latter to apologise for the disrespect he had shown to his lordship’s representative, and pointing out to the Deb Raja that he must be held responsible for the malpractices of his subordinates, and that if there should be a recurrence of these predatory incursions into British territory the Agent had been authorised to take immediate measures for the permanent occupation of the Bengal Duars. The revenue of the Assam Duars was at the same time withheld. This produced an apology, and the revenue was paid, after deducting the value of the plundered property, Rs. 2868.
Even while these letters of apology were on their way another outrage was committed, and Arun Singh, an hereditary Zamindar of the Goomar Duar, was forcibly ​carried off into Bhutan. The Government of India advocated mild measures of remonstrance, but the Governor-General considered that, in view of past offences and warnings, the Bhutan Government should be told that if proper reparation was not made annexation of the Duars would follow. This demand was met by an impertinent letter from the Deb Raja, claiming Arun Singh as a subject of his own. Still the Government of India did not proceed to do extremities, though more outrages were committed, and it was considered necessary to move a regiment up to the frontier. Sir Frederick Halliday visited the frontier, and on May 5, 1857, addressed the Governor-General, recommending that as the Bhutan Government showed indications of being about to adopt an improved foreign policy, and the rebellion which had thrown the country into confusion had ceased, an ultimatum should be addressed to the Durbar calling on it “ once more, avowedly for the last time, to deliver up Arun Singh, or abide the consequences,” and in the event of their failing to comply with this demand Sir Frederick Halliday proposed to annex the Ambari Falakata and Julpaish territories. The supreme Government concurred with these proposals. A cantonment was opened at Jalpaiguri, and the 73rd Regiment of Native Infantry and a detachment of the IIth Irregular Cavalry were posted there.
The mutiny, however, broke out at the time, and prevented this ultimatum from being carried into effect. Further outrages took place; further remonstrances were made. The tone of the Bhutan Government and its officials grew bolder and more insolent. The Subah of Bhulka Duar refused to investigate an outrage which had occurred in his jurisdiction until a revision was made of the frontier boundaries laid down in 1851-52. The Deb Raja, in a flippant and impertinent reply addressed to the Agent in 1859, declared that “Arun Singh had died because his days were numbered.”
Even then the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, Sir ​J. P. Grants did not consider that the Deb’s answer was such as to necessitate immediate action, and thought that the execution of the menace of annexation should be kept back till the occurrence of some new outrage.” The Governor-General, however, did not concur in this view, and directed that the Falakata estate should be annexed. This annexation was made in 1859.
Still further outrages took place, and instead of the threat of the annexation of the rest of the Duars being carried out a period of hesitation and inactivity followed, during which the best method of dealing with the question was discussed between the Agent for the North-Eastern Frontier, the Bengal Government, and the Government of India. Lord Canning inclined to the view that a Mission should be sent to Bhutan, and in Colonel Durand’s letter, No. 55, dated January 23, 1862, the Agent, Captain Hopkinson, was desired to state what arrangements were necessary for the security of a Mission. While the deputation of a Mission was under consideration more aggressions occurred, and insolent demands for the payment of the Ambari Falakata revenue were made by the Dalingkote Jongpen. A considerable force of Bhutanese was marched to the Rangpur frontier, and simultaneously arrangements were made for crossing the Teesta for the purpose of attacking Darjeeling. This was met by moving up two companies of the 38th Regiment and a wing of the 10th Native Infantry to the frontier, and outposts were pushed forward from the regiment at Jalpaiguri. The result of this was that the Bhutanese immediately returned to their homes.
In July 1862 a messenger, Mokundo Singh, was despatched from Assam to the Bhutan Court announcing the intention of the Governor-General to send a Mission, and asking the Bhutan Government to name the route by which it should enter and to make arrangements for the reception of the envoy. No reply was received from Bhutan till December of the same year, and the letter that Mokundo Singh brought from the Deb Raja was evasive ​and contradictory. The Deb promised to send some Zinkaffs in the following spring to settle disputes. But the Zinkaffs never came, and the officers sent to receive the Assam compensation money were not even of the usual rank. The Governor-General therefore felt that the conduct of the Bhutanese Government in sending an evasive answer and in not sending the promised messengers warranted him in sending a Mission without further parley by the most convenient route. Eden was ordered to hold himself in readiness to proceed to Bhutan as the envoy of the Government, and received his instructions in Colonel Durand’s letter. No. 493, dated August 11, 1863. On September 30 letters were sent to Bhutan announcing the despatch of a Mission, and on December 4 Eden, accompanied by Dr. Simpson, started from Darjeeling. The demands made on the Bhutan Government were mild in the extreme, considering the treatment we had experienced at their hands. They embraced the retention of the Ambari Falakata estate for the present, but held out hopes of its release to the Bhutan Government; arrangements for the extradition of criminals; and an explanation to the Deb Raja of the terms we stood on with reference to the Sikhim and Cooch Behar States, and that aggression, on these States must be considered as an unfriendly act. Eden was also to endeavour to arrange for the appointment of an agent at the Bhutan Court at some future time, and to secure free commerce between the subjects of the two Governments. The progress of the Mission has already been noticed. The objects were defeated, principally by the Tongsa Penlop, who held a preponderating influence in the council. Our envoy was grossly insulted and his signature obtained by compulsion to a most audacious and impossible treaty, and Eden, with the members of his Mission, had practically to make their escape from Bhutan to avoid imprisonment and perhaps death.
Even after this treatment of its envoy the Government of India decided to give the Bhutan Government room ​for repentance. Eden made three alternative suggestions of the best measures to be adopted to punish the Bhutanese and secure the frontier from future aggressions: (1) The permanent occupation of the whole country; (2) the temporary occupation of the country, to be followed by withdrawal after destroying all the forts and impressing the people with our power; (3) the permanent annexation of the Duars, and the occupation of the hill forts commanding them.
The Government of India, however, inclined to milder measures, and determined only to annex permanently Ambari Falakata and withhold all future payment of the Assam subsidy, and to require the surrender of all British and Cooch Behar captives, failing which the whole of the Duars should be annexed. Time was given to the Bhutan Government to comply with these demands, while preparations were made for an advance on our side. The Bhutan Government, instead of taking advantage of the opportunity given of a peaceful settlement of the question, sent an impertinent letter to Chebu Lama of Sikhim, who had been attached to the Mission, accusing him of having brought about the trouble, threatening him with the consequences, and declaring their intention of abiding by the treaty that Eden had been forced to sign, and returned an evasive reply to our Government. Then at last the Government of India, in its proclamation of November 12, 1864, declared its intention of occupying and permanently annexing the Bengal Duars, and so much of the hill territory, including the forts of Dalingkote, Passaka, and Dewangiri, as might be necessary to command the passes, and the Bhutan War commenced. The command of the forces was given to Brigadier-General Malcaster, who was to operate on the right, while the two columns on the left were under the immediate command of Brigadier-General Dunsford, C.B. Operations commenced on November 28, by an advanced party, under Major Gough, V.C., crossing the Teesta near Jalpaiguri and taking, without ​encountering any resistance, a small Bhutan outpost at Gopalganj.
Mynaguri, Daling, Damsong, Samtsi, Dongna, and Buxa were successively occupied by the two left columns, with but little loss on our side, and the military occupation of the Bengal Duars was completed by the end of the year. On the Assam side the Bhutan hill post of Dewangiri was captured, with slight opposition, early in December. A force of some strength was then despatched to capture the fort of Bishensing, but on the arrival in its vicinity of an advanced party the supposed fort was found to consist of a single stone house, occupied by a lama or priest. The necessity for further military operations having ceased with the capture of the hill forts commanding the passes, and its annexation of the Bengal and Assam Duars being thus completed, the Government of India directed the breaking up of the Duars field forces early in February 1865, intending to leave the occupation of the country chiefly to the Bengal Police battalion of about eight hundred strong, which had accompanied the expedition, and a few cavalry posts on the frontier. But when the force was on the eve of breaking up information was received that the Bhutanese were preparing to attack the whole line of posts from Chamurchi to Dewangiri. Dewangiri was attacked by a force under the Tongsa Penlop. The first attack was repulsed. The Bhutanese, however, cut off the water supply of the fort, and succeeded in throwing up a stockade which completely commanded it; they also obtained possession of the Dorunga Pass, thus cutting off communication with the plains. Colonel Campbell was running short of ammunition. General Malcaster had refused to reinforce him, an attempt to send in ammunition failed, and under these circumstances Colonel Campbell determined to evacuate the position under cover of the night and retreat to the plains by another pass known as the Libra Pass. The evacuation commenced at one o’clock on the morning of February 5. Unfortunately, the main ​party lost its way in the darkness; a panic ensued, the retreat became a disorderly one, some of our wounded were left behind in the confusion, and the guns, abandoned, fell into the hands of the Tongsa Penlop.
The Bhutanese luckily stayed behind to plunder, and did not follow up their advantage, so that the force succeeded in reaching Kassurekatta with the loss of the few wounded who fell into the hands of the enemy. It is noteworthy that these prisoners were well treated by the Tongsa Penlop. The Bhutanese force on this occasion was estimated at 5000 men, but this number includes porters, coolies, musicians, and servants. Unsuccessful attempts were about the same time made to capture the posts at Bishensing and Buxa, but though these failed another reverse to our forces was sustained at Taza-jong, the stockaded post at the Bala Pass. As at Dewangiri, the Bhutanese were not discouraged by their first repulse, and threw up a stockade commanding our post. Colonel Watson arrived from the plains with reinforcements on February 4 to dislodge them, but, after engaging the enemy for two hours, was compelled to retire with the loss of Lieutenant Millett killed. Lieutenant Cameron mortally wounded, and several of the men of the 11th Native Infantry killed and wounded. The post at Chamurchi was at the same time threatened; though the Bhutanese did not succeed in driving our post out of the pass, they continued to occupy their own entrenchment. This change in the aspect of affairs necessitated the sending of reinforcements to the frontier.
Brigadier-General Tombs, C.B., V.C., was appointed to supersede General Malcaster, and Brigadier-General Fraser Tytler, C.B., succeeded General Dunsford, who was compelled to resign from ill-health. Both these generals were given independent commands, the former of the Right, and the latter of the Left Brigade.
Bala was recaptured by General Tytler on March 15, and the Bhutanese were driven out of the stockades where ​they had established themselves in the vicinity of Buxa and Chamurchi by March 24; the objects of General Tytler with the Left Brigade were thus speedily effected, with but slight casualties. On the Assam side the Right Brigade recaptured Dewangiri by the end of March. As Dewangiri was considered unhealthy during the rains, it was evacuated at once after its capture, the buildings destroyed, and the troops withdrawn by April 6. The military operations in both the Assam and Bengal Duars being thus completed, so far as immediate active measures were required, General Tombs returned to his command at Gwalior, and the two brigades were placed under General Tytler, with his headquarters at Gauhati, to act, if required, on the defensive, and to be ready for a further advance if circumstances rendered this necessary. The Bhutan Government now made overtures for peace, and asked for the restoration of the Duars. Preliminary negotiations followed, during which further hostilities were suspended, and resulted in a treaty with Bhutan, which was finally concluded on November 11, 1865, at Sinchula. Under this treaty the British Government retained possession of the Assam and Bengal Duars. The Bhutan Government agreed to surrender all British subjects of Sikhim and Cooch Behar detained in Bhutan against their will; to the mutual extradition of criminals; to the maintenance of free trade; to the arbitration of the British Government in all disputes between the Bhutan Government and the Chiefs of Cooch Behar and Sikhim. This treaty is known by the Bhutanese as the Ten-Article Treaty of Rawa Pani.
The Bhutanese also agreed to deliver up the two guns which had fallen into the hands of the Tongsa Penlop, and to return the agreement which they had extorted from our envoy, Eden, with an apology for their treatment of him. On their side the British Government undertook to pay the Bhutan Government, from the revenues of the Duars, an annual sum beginning with Rs. 25,000, on fulfilment of the conditions of the treaty; on January 10 ​following the first payment Rs. 35,000; on January 10 following Rs. 45,000; on every succeeding January 10 Rs. 50,000. The arrangement about the surrender of the guns and delivery of the extorted treaty was recorded in a separate agreement, dated November 10, given by the two representatives of the Bhutan Government, and it was agreed that until these two conditions were fulfilled no money payment under the treaty should be due to the Bhutan Government.
The country thus ceded to the British Government comprised the Athara Duars, a narrow strip of territory averaging about twenty-two miles in width and 250 in length, lying at the foot of the hills. The eastern Duars, lying east of the Sankos River, have been incorporated with the Goalpara and Kamrup districts of Assam.
Payment of the allowance to the Bhutan Government was temporarily withheld in 1868, on account of the Bhutan Government having stopped intercommunication between Bhutan and Buxa, and on account of their disregard of Article 4 of the treaty of 1865 by sending an officer of inferior rank to receive the subsidy. In 1880 the Bhutanese were again told that the subsidy would be withheld unless certain raiders in Chunbati, near Buxa, were handed over to us. Eventually our demands were complied with, the raiders delivered up, and the captives (British subjects who had been carried off) released in July 1881.
The last civil war in Bhutan ended in 1885, when Ugyen Wang-chuk, who was then Tongsa Penlop, assisted by his relative, the Paro Penlop, defeated Aloo Dorji, the Thimboo Jongpen, and Poonakha Jongpen; the last was killed. In 1888, on the outbreak of hostilities between ourselves and the Tibetans, Shapenjoo, father of Ugyen Kazi, warned the Tibetans of the consequences of refusing to come to terms; and, on behalf of Bhutan, refused assistance to the Tibetans. During the interval between then and Tibet Mission of 1904 the Bhutanese, under the guidance of the Tongsa Penlop, Ugyen Wang-chuk, ​were most friendly to us, and constant intercourse was kept up between the Tongsa Penlop and our representatives, first Mr. Paul, and later myself. During the Tibet Mission of 1904 the Bhutanese were called upon for open support, and their Government, under the guidance of Ugyen Wang-chuk, sent a Mission with General Macdonald in his advance on Lhasa. This was headed by Ugyen Wang-chuk himself, who rendered such excellent service that on the conclusion of the expedition he was honoured with a Knight Commandership of the Most Excellent Order of the Indian Empire.
Up to 1904 the political relations between Bhutan and the Indian Government had been carried on through the medium of the Government of Bengal. On hostilities breaking out in that year these political relations were transferred from Bengal to Colonel Younghusband, who corresponded direct with the Government of India. On the termination of the Mission these political relations, were transferred to myself, the Political Officer of Sikhim, and at the same time I was entrusted with the political relations with Tibet. This was a change of great importance, as it brought Sikhim, Bhutan, and Tibet directly under the Government of India, and thus avoided the unnecessary and tedious delays formerly caused by corresponding through the local Government.
In 1905 I was deputed on my first Mission to Bhutan, to present to Sir Ugyen Wang-chuk the insignia of the K.C.I.E. I was accompanied by Major Rennick, of the Intelligence Branch, and by Mr. Paul, at the special invitation of Sir Ugyen; the escort was taken from the 40th Pathans. Unlike all former Missions of recent date, this Mission was received in the most friendly manner; everything was done to ensure the comfort and pleasure of its members, and most friendly relations with Sir Ugyen and all Bhutanese officials was the result.
From now onwards the Bhutanese moved steadily forward in the line of improvement. In 1906 Sir Ugyen ​was invited to meet H.R.H. the Prince of Wales in Calcutta, which invitation he accepted. This may be taken as one of the most important events in recent Bhutan history. This visit assured Sir Ugyen of our friendship, and brought him into contact with the outside world, of which he had previously only heard very little; it broadened his views and showed him that there were larger and more important centres than his own small kingdom. This visit and the constant intercourse between Sir Ugyen and his officials and the British Political Officer had its effect in paving, the way for the very great change which shortly took place.
In 1907 Sir Ugyen was chosen unanimously by the lamas, headmen, and people of Bhutan as their Hereditary Maharaja.
I was deputed on my second Mission to Bhutan, to be present at the installation, to represent the Government of India. I was accompanied by Major Rennick, Mr. Campbell, and Captain Hyslop, and the escort was taken from the 62nd Punjabis.
This Mission was also received in the most friendly manner, and everything possible was done to make its stay in Bhutan a pleasant one.
It will thus be seen that for the last hundred years till quite lately the governing body in India has endeavoured to keep strictly, and even contemptuously, aloof from these mountain people, and that their policy of refusing to sympathise or hold friendly intercourse with them has invariably resulted in trouble and annoyance to themselves, in return for which they have enforced full payment by depriving the weaker State of valuable territory.
It is obvious that in the case of Bhutan, Government should utilise this unique opportunity of a new régime in that country to enter into a new Treaty and to increase the inadequate subsidy that we now dole out as compensation for the annexation of the Duars, the most valuable tea district in India. If this is not done soon ​China will acquire complete control in Bhutan, and demand from us, as she did in the parallel case of Sikhim, the retrocession of the Bhutanese plains. Further, any political disturbance on this frontier would seriously affect the supply of labour on the tea-gardens in the Duars, and so cause great loss to the tea industry. This was very ably pointed out by Edgar in 1887, when we were compelled to fight China under the guise of Tibet for supremacy in Sikhim. The neighbouring State of Nepal is in a measure subject to China under the treaty of 1780, and in all these years we have made but little progress in knowledge of that country, and have allowed our Resident to be a kind of political détenu in the Residency at Khatmandu. It is earnestly to be hoped that we may not drift into a similar position with Bhutan, and in order to avoid doing so constant and continued intercourse with our frontier officers should be encouraged, and a policy closely followed by which no efforts to further and advance
CHAPTER XXII
FOREIGN RELATIONS WITH BHUTAN
China. Tibet. Nepal. Sikhim. Cooch Behar.
It is impossible to say when the first connection with China commenced, but the right of granting a patent of investiture and seal of office to the ruler of Bhutan seems to have been claimed by China at an early date. It was revived by the Emperor Chien Lung in 1736. It is fair to assume that it was not much after Chinese power was finally established at Lhasa, and Ambans appointed there, in 1720, but it would seem to have afterwards fallen into abeyance, as Bogle tells us that one of the causes of the rebellion of Deb Jeedhur, about 1774, was that the Deb endeavoured to secure the friendship and protection of China by circulating the seal of the Emperor in Bhutan. According to Pemberton, the power of China was regarded with considerable respect by the authorities in Bhutan, and a very marked deference was shown to the supposed views and wishes of the Chinese officials at Lhasa. Once a year messengers arrived from Lhasa bearing an imperial mandate from China addressed to the Deb and Dharma Rajas, and the Penlops under their orders. It was written on fine cambric in large letters, and generally contained instructions to be careful in the government of the country, to quell promptly all internal tumult or rebellion, and to report immediately, on pain of a heavy fine, any apprehended invasion from foreign foes; and on one occasion ​a fine of Deba Rs. 10,000 was actually imposed for neglect of orders, which was paid in instalments spread over three years.
Twenty gold coins were always sent with the imperial mandate. The reply returned by Bhutan was always accompanied by a present of twenty-three coolie-loads of fine rice and goods, consisting mostly of silk and cotton cloths, to the value of Rs. 3000. A return present was afterwards received from China of flowered scarves and silks, coral, and moulds of silver and gold. Though the Chinese authorities at Lhasa appeared, as a rule, to exercise no direct control in the government of the country, Pemberton heard of one instance when they interfered, in the year 1830, to settle one of the frequent insurrections that had taken place against the Deb Raja of that time, by sending a body of troops into Bhutan and deciding between the claims of the rival parties. Pemberton adds that the accuracy of his information of the action of the Chinese on this occasion has been questioned, but the story is consistent with what has happened since. At his interview with the Deb Raja in 1874 Rampini was informed by him that though Bhutan was in no way tributary to China, yet an annual exchange of presents took place. Bhutan sent presents to the value of Rs. 7000 to the Chinese Ambans at Lhasa, and received presents in return to the value of Rs. 10,000.
Two instances at least have occurred in more recent years since the Bhutan War in which the Chinese authorities at Lhasa have interfered in Bhutanese politics. These were in 1876-77, when the Deb Raja reported to Lhasa the wish of the British Government that he should make a good road through Bhutan, and Chinese and Tibetan officials were sent to Bhutan to support him in refusing to do anything of the sort. In the rebellion of 1885 the defeated Deb appealed to Lhasa, and Chinese and Tibetan officials were deputed to settle the dispute. They summoned the Maharaja of Sikhim to attend the conference. ​
IMPRESSIONS OF SEALS GIVEN TO BHUTAN BY CHINA, NEPAL, AND TIBET
at Lhasa cannot be construed as an act merely of their own initiative. The Indian Government received information from her Britannic Majesty’s Chargé d’Affaires at Pekin that the Chinese were disposed to take the cause of the ex-Deb in hand and support him with Chinese troops, and in consequence of the attitude taken up by China the subsidy was withheld till the dispute between the opposing Debs was finally settled.
In 1890 there occurred a further symptom of the interest taken by China in Bhutan and of the intention of the Chinese Government to revive their former suzerainty over the country. The Assistant Resident in Tibet, who was afterwards promoted to be Principal Resident, in a memorial to his Government at Pekin, suggested that the two Penlops of Tongsa and Paro should be created Chieftains, and should at the same time be invested with a title of hereditary nobility by the Emperor of China. This proposal received the imperial sanction. Subsequently the Assistant Resident modified his proposal, and, in view of the fact that the executive administration was really vested in the Tongsa Penlop, the Paro Penlop being merely nominally associated with him in the government of the country, suggested that this distinction should be recognised, and that the former should be appointed Chieftain and the latter Sub-Chieftain. This was sanctioned by the Emperor in the Pekin Gazette of August 22, 1890.
Her Britannic Majesty’s Minister at Pekin, in his letter informing the Government of India of the step, adds:
“The action taken by the Resident in the present instance appears to be merely a continuation of the policy adopted by his predecessor in 1866, when, as reported in my Despatches Nos. 59 and 60 of the 9th and 15th November of that year, the Chinese Government asserted the right of controlling appointments to the posts of Raja or Penlop in Tibet. As explained in the second of my above-mentioned Despatches, the right of granting a patent of investiture ​and a seal of office to the ruler of Bhutan seems to have been claimed by China at an early date. It was revived by the Emperor Chien Lung in 1736, and when Bogle visited Bhutan forty years later he found that the introduction of the imperial seal of China was still a vexed question in the country.”
In 1891 the Paro Penlop wrote to Paul to inform him that officers of the Chinese Amban had visited him at Paro on November 21, 1891, and left with him a golden letter, with the seal of the Emperor of China, for the Tongsa Penlop. It is not quite clear whether there was only the one letter, or whether the Paro Penlop received another one for himself.
The connection of Bhutan with Tibet has been much closer, although since the establishment of the Chinese power at Lhasa Tibetan control in Bhutan has been exercised in concert with or under the orders of the Chinese Ambans.
The Deb Raja, in his conversation with Rampini in 1874, repudiated the idea of his State being tributary to Tibet any more than to China, but the whole course of Bhutan history shows that though the chain which binds Bhutan to Tibet may be a loose one, it is held nevertheless by Tibet, and tightened on occasions.
Horna Della Penna, in his “Brief Account of the Kingdom of Thibet,” written in 1830, says that the kingdom of Dukpa (Bhutan), along with Ladak and Nepal, were then subject to and had voluntarily made themselves tributary to Tibet, after the Emperor of China had made himself master of it.
From researches made in old Tibetan manuscripts, it is clear that the present State of Bhutan originated in a colony of Tibetans, and that the first Dharma Raja, Shabdung Nga-wang Namgyal, who introduced order and government into this colony, was a lama from Tibet, as well as the next Dharma Raja, Gyaltsap Tenzing Robgay.
​The earliest connections of Bhutan with Tibet were thus evidently very close, both on the religious and secular side. Pemberton’s account confirms this view. He mentions a tradition current in the country that Bhutan was once ruled by resident Tibetan officers, and that when these officers were withdrawn, and the Bhutanese allowed to govern themselves, they still consented to pay an annual tribute to Tibet, and recognised the supremacy of the Emperor of China in secular and of the Delai Lama in spiritual affairs.
Coming down to a more historical period, the time of Bogle’s Mission, we find that in the letter addressed by the Regent of Tibet, the Tashi Lhunpo Lama (Penchen Rimpochi ?), to Warren Hastings, which was received on March 29, 1774, in which he mediated for peace on behalf of Deb Jeedhur, the Regent claims Bhutan as a dependency of Tibet. He says the Deb Raja “is dependent upon the Delai Lama,” that if British hostilities are continued it will irritate both the Lama and all his subjects against the Indian Government, and that he has “reprimanded the Deb for his past conduct and admonished him to desist from his evil practices in future, and to be submissive to you in all matters.”
Occasions on which the Tibetan authorities have interfered with Bhutan politics in concert with the Chinese have been mentioned. It may fairly be presumed that the Lhasa Government would have exercised this amount of control over Bhutan irrespective of China if Chinese supremacy had not become established at Lhasa. The Bhutanese Government at first endeavoured to hinder Bogle’s progress into Tibet, and they positively refused to allow Pemberton to proceed there or to forward a letter from him to Lhasa. In both cases they were probably acting under instructions from the Lhasa Government. Bhutan does not now pay any tribute to Tibet, and it does not appear when it ceased to do so. It is probable that when China sent its Ambans to Lhasa in 1720 the tribute ​was transferred to China. On the other hand, Bhutan did not come to the assistance of Tibet in the Nepal War of 1792. Turner even says that the Chinese general thought of invading Bhutan after defeating the Nepalese. Tibet did not support Bhutan in the war of 1864, or oppose the annexation of the Duars, though Rennie does mention that a few soldiers who were thought to be Tibetans were seen with the Bhutanese troops; nor did Bhutan give any help to the Tibetans at the time of the British expedition against them in Sikhim in 1888-89. The Tibetans asked for assistance, but it was refused by the Tongsa Penlop.
The ordinary government of the country goes on without interference from Tibet, and Lhasa does not exercise any voice in the election of the Deb Raja. In Bogle’s time Tibetans were excluded from trading in Bhutan except for the exchange of rice and salt. Disputes between the Tibetans on the Chumbi side and the Bhutanese from time to time occurred. In 1892 a Bhutanese subject, servant of the Tongsa Penlop, was murdered at Phari; and later, as the Tibetans at first neglected to make compensation, the Bhutanese threatened to invade the Chumbi Valley. The matter was eventually settled amicably in 1894. Recent frontier information shows that the Paro Penlop has levied fines from the Tomos in the Chumbi Valley in a high-handed manner, and till quite lately levied taxes upon Tibetans entering Bhutan on that side. The connection between Tibet and Bhutan is certainly an ill-defined one, and may perhaps be best expressed by saying that though Bhutan is not a dependency of Tibet, it comes within the sphere of Tibet’s political influence.
The first mention of any political connection between Bhutan and Nepal is given by Bogle, who says that the ambitious Deb Raja of Bhutan, Deb Jeedhur, about 1770, with the view of making himself independent of the priestly power, strengthened his connection with the Raja of Nepal, and obtained his support so far that Nepal refused to ​acknowledge the Deb who was set up in Deb Jeedhur’s place after the rebellion against him. Not long after this, in 1788, Bhutan sent forces to aid Sikhim in repelling the Gurkha invasion from Nepal. They were themselves in turn threatened by a Gurkha invasion after the submission of Sikhim to Nepal, but this was prevented by the defeat of the Nepalese troops by China.
This Deb, otherwise known as Migyur Tempa, was a friend of Raja Rama Sahi of Nepal, and obtained several grants of land in that country. At one time Bhutan possessed eighteen monasteries there; these were lost in 1788, on account of the Bhutanese sending help to Sikhim against the Nepalese. They now possess only two.
Bhutan has remained unmolested by the Nepalese, and this Pemberton attributes, first to the fear of China, and secondly to the bold and determined policy of Hastings, which interposed the little State of Sikhim as a barrier to the eastern progress of the Nepalese. From this period down to Pemberton’s time scarcely any intercourse, either of a political or commercial nature, took place between Nepal and Bhutan. At his interview with Rampini in 1874 the Deb Raja declared that relations with Nepal were friendly, and it appears that there has always been some intercourse of a friendly character between the two countries. In recent years a large number of Nepalese have migrated to Bhutan and colonised there, along the foot hills.
Deb Jeedhur, of whom previous mention has been made, invaded Sikhim somewhere about 1770, and held possession of the country for six or seven years. The minor Raja of Sikhim fled to Lhasa, and was educated there. He ultimately obtained assistance from Lhasa and returned to his country, which the Bhutanese then promptly evacuated. During the Bhutanese occupation of Sikhim a Sikhimese chief had been confined at Poonakha. The Sikhim Raja, on his return, procured his release, and the Bhutanese, on setting him free, bribed him to remain ​a friend to their Government. This man’s son, born in captivity, became the most powerful man in Sikhim, and kept up a continued correspondence with the Bhutanese. Some years later, when a boundary dispute arose between Sikhim and Bhutan, he treacherously gave up to Bhutan a large tract of country belonging to Sikhim, including Dalingkote, Jongsa, and Sangbay.
Bhutan, as already mentioned, came to the aid of Sikhim against the Gurkhas in 1788. Beyond this there seems to have been no political intercourse between the two States, and Sikhim sustained its share of the outrages which led to the Bhutan War of 1864. The Sinchula Treaty provided for the surrender of Sikhimese subjects carried off into Bhutan, and for the reference to the British Government for arbitration of all disputes that might arise between Bhutan and Sikhim. It was also intended by the Government of India to separate the boundary of Bhutan from Sikhim by including the tract of country west of the Jaldhaka in the annexation, in order to prevent future inroads into Sikhim by the Bhutanese. This intention was not carried out, and Bhutan continues to border on Sikhim on its western frontier. There have, however, been no aggressions on Sikhim by the Bhutanese since the Sinchula Treaty.
In earlier times the relations between Cooch Behar and Bhutan were extremely intimate, and Bhutan exercised considerable control over Cooch Behar affairs. About 1695 the Bhutanese overran Cooch Behar and usurped the government, till Santa Narayan Nazir Deo, with the assistance of the Mahomedan Viceroy, expelled them after a long struggle, and placed Rup Narayan on the throne. The Bhutanese, however, continued their control over political affairs in Cooch Behar. In 1776, when the infant Raja was murdered at the instigation of Ramanand Gosain, they, “exercising, apparently, a usual authority,” put Ramanand to death, and Dhaijendra was placed on ​the throne. This Raja offended the Bhutan Government by depriving Ram Narayan of his office of Dewan Deo, and afterwards putting him to death; and as a punishment for this affront to their authority the Bhutanese carried him off and kept him a prisoner in Bhutan, appointing his brother, Rajendra, to rule in his place. On the death of Rajendra, Darendra, son of Dhaijendra, was set up as Raja, without the consent of Bhutan, and the Bhutanese remonstrated in vain against the election of the son of a person whom they held as prisoner. They then invaded Cooch Behar, and carried off Darendra and his brother into Bhutan. The Government of India came to the aid of the dethroned Raja, and the Bhutanese were driven out of Cooch Behar, and the first treaty made with them by Warren Hastings in 1774. The tribute of five Tangan horses, which had been paid by Bhutan to the Cooch Behar Raja for the province of Falakata, was transferred to the Company. This ended any political relations between Bhutan and Cooch Behar. As in the case of Sikhim, Cooch Behar suffered for many years from the predatory incursions of the Bhutanese, which, with the incursions into British territory, were made the casus belli with Bhutan by the proclamation of 1864; and in the Sinchula Treaty the same conditions were imposed upon Bhutan in respect to Cooch Behar as in respect to Sikhim.
Since the Sinchula Treaty there has been very little intercourse between Cooch Behar and Bhutan. As in our case, Bhutanese come down in small numbers to trade, but Cooch Beharis are not allowed to enter Bhutan or to trade there.
CHAPTER XXIII
ARTS AND INDUSTRIES OF SIKHIM AND BHUTAN
Chinese and Indian influence. Metal-work in Sikhim. Method of casting. Sikhim knives. Aniline dyes. Weaving school in Lachung. Carpet factory in Gangtak. Apple orchards in Lachung and Chumbi. Cheese and butter making. Bhutan metal-work. A wonderful pan-box. Beaten copper and silver work. Bells. Swords and daggers. Weaving. Needlework pictures. Basket-work. Influence of the feudal system. Inferiority of Tibetan work. Wood-carving in Sikhim, Bhutan, and Nepal.
The arts and industries of Sikhim and Bhutan have an intimate connection with those of China, as from their earliest days these countries were in touch with China and its civilisation, long before the people had any intercourse with India. With the spread of Buddhism a certain amount of Indian influence was brought in, but it is not very apparent. It has, however, also crept in through Nepal, and wherever the Newar craftsmen have penetrated Indian designs are to be met with; and this is particularly the case in the eastern districts, in Sikhim, and along the Brahmaputra River, as far as Shigatsi and Gyantse, and to some extent also in Lhasa.
In Bhutan the effect of Indian influence is very much less marked, and that of Burmah and Siam, which has entered by way of Assam, is undoubtedly stronger.
In Sikhim the arts are now almost entirely carried on by Nepalese craftsmen, who excel in gold, silver, and brass work. Articles made in these metals are generally beaten ​
ART SPECIMENS—I The descriptions of the articles to which reference numbers are attached will be found on page 325
sal-tree, and the pattern hammered out with blunt tools. As the workman draws his own pattern as he works, his success depends on his ability, and he is able to express individuality in both design and execution; and I have seen, and have in my possession, some very good specimens in gold, silver, brass, and copper work. They also cast exceedingly well in brass and bronze. The method they follow is to first model in wax the object they wish to make; they next coat the model with successive layers of cow-dung, clay, and a little finely chopped straw; this is allowed to dry very slowly, and when thoroughly dry the wax is melted out, leaving an excellent mould, into which the molten metal is poured. The detail obtained in this way is marvellous; and as each model must be separately moulded it carries with it the great charm of all Oriental work—individuality.
Very good knives are manufactured in Sikhim. They used to be made from indigenous charcoal iron, but now that steel bars can be bought so cheaply the workmen—more is the pity—have entirely abandoned the old method of extracting the iron direct from the ore.
Cotton cloth is also manufactured for their own use, but the yarn is nearly all imported now, though a small portion is still made locally. The women weave at small looms set up in the different houses where the dyeing of the thread is also done; and until lately vegetable dyes, to be found in abundance in the forests and jungles of Sikhim, were always used. Unfortunately, aniline dyes were introduced into the bazaars; the people, finding they gave more brilliant results, were cheaper to buy and easier to use, took to them, and nearly spoilt the industry, until I was obliged to prohibit the sale of aniline dyes throughout Sikhim, and so force them to return to natural vegetable dyes, which produce such beautiful soft tints and last so much better. Carpets and woollen cloths are also made, and I started weaving schools in Lachung, and later on, ​under the control and supervision of the Maharani, who took great interest in the work, a carpet factory at Gangtak. The Lachung schools turned out most excellent tweeds, thanks to the assistance given by Miss Johanson, a Scandinavian missionary, under whose care the village girls came regularly to work, collected the requisite dyes from the jungle, and followed the patterns; but that supervision withdrawn, the girls would work or not as the spirit moved them, the yarn would be uneven in quality and carelessly woven, and the pattern neglected; but so long as Miss Johanson remains the output is excellent. It is the same with the carpet factory. When I was at headquarters and could occasionally look in, the carpets made were excellent—could not have been better—but if I were away for a few months on tour, and the Maharani otherwise occupied, the work immediately became careless and inferior—mistakes in the pattern, bad colouring, and inferior weaving. It shows the necessity in all these undertakings of having trained supervision at the head, if they are to be successful.
But the great difficulty was to place the output on a proper commercial footing. It is easy for a few years to sell cloth or carpets, but it does not answer in the long run unless the goods can be sold in the open market. Before I left an attempt to do this was being made, but whether it will be successful or not I cannot say.
I also tried to introduce fruit-cultivation, and planted English fruit-trees in both the Lachung and Chumbi Valleys. In the former the apple-trees have done extremely well, and a few years ago one tree alone bore 3200 apples, weighing 832 lb.; and I have gathered apples which weighed over a pound apiece. But here again the distance they had to be carried was a difficulty in placing them on the market. A very large trade is done in oranges during the winter months; but oranges are indigenous to the country, and the natives understand their cultivation; and, in addition, they grow in the hot valleys near the plains. The orchards ​
ART SPECIMENS—II The descriptions of the articles to which reference numbers are attached will be found on page 325
of the valley and the trees will probably be cut down for firewood.
I also tried to introduce amongst the people butter and cheese making, which should have been profitable to the gwallahs, or cowkeepers; but without Europeans to place in charge it was difficult to achieve any success. The cheese-making was never taken up, although for a whole winter I had milk brought to the Residency, the cheese made in my own dairy, and then sold amongst my friends in India, to demonstrate to them the practicability of the scheme. They thought the trouble and care required in keeping the utensils clean was much too great for their easy-going ways. Hence that scheme was a failure, and, beyond what I myself attempted, was never tried. It seems extraordinary that the neighbouring town of Darjeeling, not to speak of Calcutta and other stations in the plains of Bengal, should get their supply of butter from Aligarh, in the United Provinces, while at Gangtak day after day throughout the year we made the finest possible butter, equal, if not superior, to the best English butter, and that from the milk of cows not stall-fed or cared for in any but the ordinary way of the country, turned out each morning to graze on the hillsides. It shows what would be possible were the business taken up by any practical and energetic person.
Into Bhutan, Nepalese influence has hardly penetrated at all. The craftsmen are all Bhutanese, and the designs follow more closely the Chinese model. They excel in bronze castings and fine metal-work of all kinds. In practice they follow the same methods as in Sikhim, backing the metal on which they are employed with lac, and hammering out the patterns with blunt chisels after the manner of old alto-relievo work. One of the most exquisite specimens of workmanship in silver and silver-gilt I have ever seen was produced in Bhutan—a pan-box about 8 inches in diameter and 2½ inches deep, of a purely ​Chinese dragon pattern, in relief quite a quarter of an inch, or more deep.
I have also seen exceedingly fine specimens of copper and brass work, chiefly articles for the decoration of their altars, such as trumpets, candlesticks, rice-boxes, tables, &c., and they also cover many of their temple pillars with copper or silver beaten into most beautiful patterns, and the altar tables are examples of beaten work with bold designs.
The Bhutanese excel in casting bells, and I have seen some excellent specimens with very fine tones. The composition used for the best bells contains a good deal of silver, but they never make them of any great size, the largest I have seen being probably twenty-four inches in diameter and of about an equal height.
In iron-work they are also good artificers, and many of their sword-blades are of excellent manufacture and finish, and are still made from the charcoal iron. The polish they put on them is wonderful, and the blades almost look as though they had been silvered.
Their swords are very handsome weapons, with finely finished blades, elaborately wrought silver handles inlaid with turquoise and coral, and silver scabbards with gold-washed patterns, attached to handsome leather belts with brightly coloured silk cords and tassels. Their daggers are also very fine, many of them with triangular blades and fluted sides, with sheaths of exquisite open silver and gold work set with turquoise.
Every house of any importance has large workrooms attached in which weaving is carried on, and the stuffs produced, consisting of silks for the chiefs’ dress, woollen, and cotton goods, are excellent; and a good deal of embroidery is also done.
The monasteries possess an art which, as far as I know, is peculiar to Bhutan. They make most beautiful needle-work pictures of the saints on hanging banners. Innumerable pieces of coloured silks and brocades are applied ​
ART SPECIMENS—III The descriptions of the articles to which reference numbers are attached will be found on page 326
kinds. Many of them are veritable works of art.
Another industry in which the Bhutanese excel is basket-work and fine matting made from split cane. The baskets are beautifully woven of very finely split cane, and some of the lengths are coloured to form a pattern. They are made in two circular pieces, rounded top and bottom, and the two pieces fit so closely and well that they can be used to carry water. They are from six to fifteen inches in diameter, and the Bhutanese use them principally to carry cooked rice and food. They also make much larger and stronger baskets, very much in the shape of a mule-pannier, and these are used in a similar way for pack-animals.
The mats are also very finely woven of the same material, with a certain amount of the split cane dyed to form patterns. They are delightfully fine and soft, so flexible that they can be rolled up into quite a small space, and very durable, and can be got in almost any size up to about sixteen feet square, and even larger if they are required.
Possibly the excellence of the work produced in Bhutan owes much to the feudal system which still prevails there. Each Penlop and Jongpen has his own workmen amongst his retainers, men who are not paid by the piece, and are not obliged either to work up to time or to work if the spirit is not in them, and consequently they put their souls into what they do, with the result that some pieces of splendid individuality and excellent finish are still made. No two pieces are ever quite alike, and each workman leaves his impress on his work.
The same ought to apply to Tibet, but I have seen no work from Tibet which can compare in any way with that from Bhutan. Possibly the environments of Tibet are not conducive to such excellence; the people are more servile and less independent, a condition always detrimental to good work of any kind. Metal-work in Tibet is of the same description as that in Sikhim and Bhutan, and is all made in the same way, but any specimens I have seen are inferior ​in workmanship. From Nepal, on the other hand, I have had some excellent work, with marked signs of individuality, especially in their brass castings. Some of the “singhis,” or brass demon dogs, are very characteristic.
I have omitted to mention wood-carving, in which Nepal, Sikhim, and Bhutan all excel. In the former especially the wood-carving is of a very high order, and the houses in Khatmandu, and especially in the older city of Pathan, are exquisitely ornamented with carved doors, windows, balconies, eaves; and some of them even have carvings on the ridges of the tiled roofs.
In Sikhim and Bhutan, in nearly every monastery and Jong, and also in the better houses, many good carvings are to be found, and the work is bold and effective.
I am giving some photographs showing a few specimens of the various arts and crafts, but they hardly do justice to the best workmanship. Unfortunately, the greater part of my collection is still packed away, and I am unable to illustrate all I could wish. But I think I have said enough to show that the hill people on this frontier possess an artistic temperament, and can turn out most excellent work which compares favourably with that of other Oriental craftsmen. ​
ART SPECIMENS—IV The descriptions of the articles to which reference numbers are attached will be found on page 326
* I. B. December 1889.   Exd. J. A. A.
APPENDIX I
THE LAWS OF BHUTAN
A Brief Outline of the Laws and Rules laid down for the Government of Bhutan
The form of government is twofold, viz., spiritual and temporal.
1. The spiritual laws are said to resemble a silken knot—i.e., easy and light at first, but gradually becoming tighter and tighter.
2. The temporal or monarchical laws resemble a golden yoke—i.e., growing heavier and heavier by degrees.
This twofold law was composed by a spirit of perfect disinterestedness.
This twofold system of government established in Bhutan rendered the country happy and prosperous, taking for example the system of the great Saint-King of Tibet, whose very first prohibition was against the taking of life, a crime punished by the realisation of blood-money in case of homicide, and damages or fine in case of attempted homicide. A penalty of hundredfold repayment was realisable in cases of robbery or theft of church or monastic property, eightyfold repayment in cases of stealing the king’s property, eightfold repayment in cases of theft amongst subjects. Adultery was punishable by fines. Falsehood was punishable by the offender being put to oath in a temple, and the invocation of tutelar deities and gods. Over and above the prevention of the ten impious acts, all were required to regard parents with filial respect and affection, and elders with reverence, to receive with gratitude any kind action done by others to themselves, and, lastly, to avoid dishonesty and the use of false measures, which constitute the sixteen acts of social piety.
Although Bhutan had been once effectually brought under the beneficent influence of strict law and justice, it subsequently, on ​account of general corruption and laxity on the part of those in authority, became slack in all branches.
If this should be allowed to continue, there would be no discrimination between right and wrongdoing, no justice, and without justice human beings cannot have happiness and peace. If there were no peace or happiness for human beings, the Dukpa Hierarchy would have failed in its errand upon this earth, and it would be useless for it to exist longer. Therefore, bearing the interest of the Hierarchy at heart, every one is exhorted to leave all partiality aside and to act up to a true sense of justice, emulating the great Saint-King Srongtsan Gompo of Tibet.
For it is said that Universal Happiness depends upon the existence of the Jina’s Hierarchy, and that, in its turn, depends upon the character of individual Hierarchs. But it is unfortunately the general custom now for those who are in authority to give way to their own selfish and immeasurable greed of gain, to satisfy which they resort to extortion by oppressive means—e.g., binding, beating, and imprisoning—thus rendering the subjects as miserable as tantalised ghosts in this very lifetime. And the elders of the village—i.e., mandals and pipons—in their turn act the part of spies and inform those above them as to who amongst the raiyats have some articles of value or riches. Thus they render the clear fountain of justice muddy and foul. Therefore it is extremely necessary that he who enjoys the privilege of being the Dharma Raja should use the utmost circumspection in finding out the real truth and facts, when it happens that cases are brought before him for trial, so that the innocent be not punished for nothing and the wrongdoer escape unpunished. To enforce temporal laws by punishing sinful and impious acts in perfect accordance with moral and religious laws is the essence of the
Commandments of the Jinas.
A Brief Outline of the Proper Course of Action for Deb Rajas
Buddha says in the Sutras, “A king, if he is fond of Dharma [Righteousness], finds the path to happiness both in this and in the future lives. The subjects will act as the ruler acts, and therefore should the ruler strive to learn Righteousness.”
They should encourage religious institutions and the inculcation of knowledge, and religious sentiment therein.
​They should see that the priests are properly trained in the ten pious acts; that they gain the necessary accomplishments in (a) dancing, (b) drawing, or making mandalas, and (c) psalm-singing; besides acquiring knowledge in the twofold method of meditation. The above should be for those who expect to spend their lives as priests. Those who are to acquire the other branches of learning, such as rhetoric, poetry, and dialectics, also must be encouraged, and their progress enforced by periodical examinations in each of these several branches.
An annual circular perwana should be issued to those in charge of the State monasteries, requiring that the monastic properties of value, whether they be ornaments for the altar, treasures, coins, plates, utensils, &c., should not be disposed of or misused in any way. To those also amongst the priesthood who are engaged in handicrafts (e.g., painting, sewing, embroidery, carving, modelling, &c.), and those also who are engaged in menial service, should be taught thoroughly writing and rituals, and they should be thoroughly imbued with the ten pious sentiments. In short, the Deb should consider it a daily duty to inquire into the state of the raiyats’ condition, whether they are happy or unhappy, contented or discontented, and strain his utmost power to render them happy.
They should prohibit indiscriminate life-taking, by forbidding cruel sport on the hills and fishing in the rivers. This effectually strikes at the cause of several ills in the future.
The collection of taxes, raising of labour contributions, and trial of cases constitute the administrative duties, on the proper discharge of which depends the happiness of a nation.
A constant check and inquiry as to whether, out of those who are sent on these duties, there are any who exempt certain persons, some from partiality, and tax others heavily in consequence of grudges or prejudice, should be exercised and kept up.
The officers posted on the frontiers should be constantly reminded of the fact that the peace of the central nation depends upon the conduct of the borderers. The borderers, if they commit lawless raids into others' territories in their vicinity, will give occasion for reprisals and involve the nation in the horrors of foreign warfare in an unjust cause. Therefore they should be exhorted to live peaceably.
To be brief, these are the three ends to be secured:
1. The contentment of the raiyats.
2. The proper influence of and respect for officials or authorities.
3. The support of the Sangha, or the body of the Trinity.
​Therefore it is absolutely necessary that the Deb Raja, as the temporal ruler of the people, should be well versed in the method of securing these ends.
The most effectual and shortest method of securing the first end, the raiyats’ happiness, is by administering strict justice. If a ruler would devote himself to administering justice impartially, he would make all his subjects happy in a single day. For it was by this means that the ancient dynasty of Tibetan kings secured happiness for their subjects and popularity for the rulers themselves, and also by which the Dharma Raja of Bhutan (Shabdung Rimpochi) succeeded in subduing the stiff-necked and lawless people of Bhutan, and rendering his reign so very glorious and popular. The main end of establishing law and justice is to give peace and security to both the ruler and his subjects, and in particular to promulgate the Dharma and to perpetuate the Hierarchy of the Buddhist Sangha, which embodies and represents the three chief principles of the Buddhist Trinity.
Of late a dangerous laxity has crept into all branches of justice.
Priests who break their vow of celibacy, and criminals who are guilty of homicide, robbery, and otherwise disturbing public peace, go unpunished. This not only sets a bad example for the future, but endangers present tranquillity, and encourages crime and breach of faith. Thus the country becomes filled with vow-breakers and knaves, and public peace is destroyed. It is said, “The violation of spiritual laws makes the Guardian Deities retreat to the Abode of Passivity, and allows the foul breath of the mischievous Fiends to pervade everywhere. The breach of Social Laws weakens the power of the Gods, and the Demons of Darkness laugh with joy.” It is absolutely necessary to compel the priests who have violated their oaths to change their modes of dress and give up other priestly habits.
Moreover, at present the use of a most filthy and noxious herb, called tobacco, is spreading amongst the sepoys and raiyats, who use it incessantly. This is sure to steep the sacred images and books in pollution and filth. It has been prophesied by Ugyen Padma Jungna that it will cause wars and bring epidemics. So unless every one of the provincial Governors, Kazis, Subahs, and Headmen strives to stop the use of this poisonous and evil stuff by fining those who deal in it, and those who use it, they will be sure to feel heavily the consequences of such neglect themselves.
​If those who are rulers, having the opportunity to render their subjects happy, neglect their duties, then where is the difference between them and the Prince of the Devils? In worldly matters it is not always mild means which conquer and subdue rude and evil persons, but sometimes stern measures have to be adopted. So when there are law-breakers or evildoers the ruler’s duty is to punish them sternly, putting aside all consideration of pity and sympathy. This is the path by which a king on his throne obtains salvation.
Although the rulers are responsible for the general prosperity of a nation, yet it is the local authorities on whom lie the responsibilities of a province or district. The deputies (who are sent to inquire into a case), and the headman who reports, are the chief persons on whom the real burden of a fair trial lies. The establishment of a second-grade Kuchap, as well as that of a Lama and Hyerpa combined, should consist of two orderlies or sepoys and one syce, and ordinary Kuchaps should have only one orderly and one syce. Officers' tours entail too much expense and trouble on the raiyats, so unless it be for transfers or new appointments, officers’ tours should be restricted as much as possible, and they should not be allowed to travel about on any trivial pretence. The husking of paddy should not be given in dribbling quantities, but in a large quantity at one time; nor should rice be realised over the actual out-turn of the husking. The raiyats should not be dispossessed of any gold, turquoise, vessels, cattle, or ponies they may possess on frivolous pretences of extortionate rates of interest on trading capital lent by the headmen, nor should any headmen request subscriptions by means of giving charm threads or cheap clothes. All barter or trading should be carried on at fair prevailing rates, and not at extortionate and preferential ones. Forced gifts of salt or butter should not be made. No wearing wool should be given, no sheep’s load should be realised. All Jongpens and Head Lamas of monasteries shall not try to realise any gifts by going round visiting raiyats.
The sale and purchase of slaves (plainsmen) must not be permitted. Any one persisting in it should be reported to the Durbar authorities. State officers will not be entitled to any coolies or rations from the State, if they are going to visit a hot spring or mineral-water spring for their own health, but they shall provide themselves with the necessary provisions and coolies on such occasions. When officers are out on their own account they shall not present themselves at the Jongs, and if they do the Jongs shall not provide ​them with, the usual rations to which they would otherwise be entitled.
The officers in charge of the several Jongs should report to the Durbar what amount of free labour has been enforced, how many coolies supplied, or how many coolie-loads have been conveyed, and for whom, or by whose order, on what date, and so on. Should any officer at the different stages permit any load to be conveyed free of cost to the owner without reporting, he shall be liable to a heavy fine.
A Kuchap can keep one pony, and may perhaps be entrusted with the feed of a pony from the Superior Jongpen. Over and above these he may not maintain any ponies at the cost of the State. Should he do so he will forfeit the same to the Jong. He may, however, by paying a licence fee of over one hundred tankas to his Jong, be allowed to maintain one more pony. But on no account is he to be allowed to maintain more than three ponies at the cost of the State. Should he desire to give a pony in the place of the annual revenue, he may not send any raiyat to purchase it from any market. In case of complaints made to him, he may not receive anything over a measure of pachwai murwa, not so much as a square bit of silk in kind, nor a tanka in cash. A Kuchap should report all cases, be they light or important, to the Jong, and by no means decide any himself. At harvest-time a Kuchap should not take the opportunity of visiting his field border, or turn it to a means of going on a rambling visit to his raiyats. Nor should a Kuchap make slight cattle trespasses upon the border of his fields the pretence for realising heavy damages from his raiyats. The Kuchaps or other responsible officers must not be wine-bibbers, fornicators, nor adulterers. Should they be guilty of any of the above faults, they render themselves enemies to public peace, and thereby liable to dismissal from their office in disgrace.
The collection of the taxes in kind, such as meat and butter, must be considered and settled at the Kuchang’s own place, with the assistance of the elders, and karbaris or mandals under him, after which he will submit the proposed demand rent-roll to the Jongpen, his immediate and chief superior, for sanction and order. Only upon obtaining such sanction can he realise the rents in kind.
Should any guests have to be provided for, it will not do for him to realise the provisions or their equivalent from the raiyats, but he should quarter them on the houses in turn. The guests should on no account expect luxuries, but bare necessaries.
​The Kuchap must not grant any remission of rents of either kind, on consideration of any private gift to himself.
The Kuchap may not accept the first portion of any ceremonial feast, be it for the dead or the living. He should not accept or demand any present for marriages or separations.
When sending out for collections, he should send a pipon, who will represent an orderly, a mandal, and a karbari in one. This man shall not realise anything on his own account. He shall not accept any present from cattle-keepers. Any mandal, or lamas or shalugos who have been appointed to any posts, requiring to go to the seat of the Durbar, must not take any raiyats to accompany them, nor should they raise any tax on the pretence of nazars for the Durbar. Any officers, village headmen, who have obtained permission to retire from service on account of old age, infirmities, &c., must not linger above three days in the Jong. Any foreigners or strangers arriving in their jurisdiction must be reported and presented to their superior at the Jong. They must not harbour or receive any such. Anybody found harbouring robbers or thieves must be punished as heavily as the criminals themselves.
Any slaves attempting to escape in an unhappy mood must be detained, and should any one after having harboured one fail to detain him the same shall make good the slave. But, on the other hand, if any one succeed in handing back to the owner the escaped slave the same must be compensated, due consideration being taken regarding the distance, the time, the cost and expenses incurred in the performance of the enterprise.
Two different raiyats cannot combine into one. A holding may be enjoyed both by a son or, if there is no son, by a daughter. A raiyat who is aged, and has neither daughter nor son, may be asked only to render such labour and service for revenue as he is able to perform alone as long as he lives; upon his or her decease the same holding shall pass to the nearest kith or kin, who will thenceforth be expected to render both labour and cash and kind revenues. No marriages or permanent connections should be allowed where the parents do not approve. And whereas, where there are two or three holdings and houses which used to pay taxes separately now combined in one, with a view of lightening the labour contribution, it must be ruled that this be not permitted or tolerated, as it is a bad precedent. If there be any, either a male or a female, heir to the property, the same should be compelled to make good the State revenue. If there are no heirs in the ​line, then it should be made over to the nearest kin, or to such person whom the owner wills as his assignee, who will thenceforth make good the State revenue. Those who own properties in land and houses, and yet live untaxed in towns, should be made to render proportionate labour contribution and rents in cash and kind with the value and area of their properties.
Whereas the slaughter of many animals on account of funeral ceremonies is bad, both on account of the deceased as well as the living, henceforth it is expedient to offer simple gifts on these occasions, which shall be regulated as follows:
1. For the Durbar, in lieu of a head and limb the value of half a
tanka.
2. For the Lama, the price of a piece of cotton cloth.
But if the party be poor and cannot afford the gifts, but simply some offerings for the deceased, then he shall be liable to the above costs only in case of Durbar and Lama, and for the assistant priests he can give rice in lieu of meat, about four manas. But if one animal has to be slaughtered, on no account shall he exceed one life, out of which he must defray the necessary meat expenses.
A monastery Head Lama shall perform the cremation within one day in summer and two in winter; he must not exceed this time, on his own responsibility. The number of priests to attend a funeral, and the fees to be received by them, are the same as at the capital or Durbar. But if the Head Lama is delayed in coming or prevented from coming, the layman must have the obsequies partially performed at home, and must take such stores with him with which he can have the same performed at a monastery. No freehold grants to lamas for their support shall be sold. The laymen shall not stop supporting the lamas. Should any wealthy or propertied lama die, his chief supporting layman or disciple shall utilise his property in meritorious charity. When any State-supported and retired lamas die, their effects, if they are books, images, or altar appurtenance, shall be offered to the State or Deb as obsequies offerings, and the rest shall be devoted to funeral ceremonies to the best account. When it becomes necessary to build a cell to serve as a retreat for any lama of the monastery, it shall be within the compound or in the vicinity of a monastery or other religious institution, and not in the vicinity of a village or any hill spur. Should any child be born to a couple, as the result of a connection within monastery precincts, the same couple shall be considered to have reverted to the world, and their life ​must be passed amongst the villages, and they shall accordingly be made to fill up any vacancy amongst the raiyats, and shall be liable to the same taxes and labour contributions as any other raiyat.
Should any member or Tape of the monastery loiter more than fifteen days amongst the villages, otherwise than on some special business of the Head Lamas, or their own, and on the usual charity begging purpose, the same shall be liable to be forced to render the usual labour contribution by the village headmen. The Head Lamas of the several monasteries, too, must, except on the occasions of the annual congregation for observing the Buddhist holidays, always pass their time in retreats. They shall use their utmost efforts to effectually put an end to any sham or charlatanism, necromancy, quackery, and false witchcraft. The licensed as well as private Manewas (those who go about singing “Om mani padmi hum”) shall only enjoy such offerings as are made voluntarily; there shall be no tax for them. No one shall harbour any mischievous person who has been banished from a Jong for some roguery.
A thief or robber, killed while in the commission of theft or robbery, dies without any hope of redress. The man who kills a thief in the above manner is not liable to any punishment. But otherwise one who takes out his sword (for threatening or for striking) is liable to sword fine.
One committing homicide must be bound to the corpse of the deceased whom he has killed. If he escapes after committing homicide, he may be killed wherever and whenever he is caught. The offspring of a homicide shall be banished from their home.
Any one killing notorious highway robbers, any wild beasts which are working much havoc in a country, or who has performed heroic service amongst enemies during war should be encouraged by gifts of robes or clothes according to merit.
The headmen should inspect the products of their country industries, and see that they are honest and solid in make and texture.
The merchants who have the responsibility of the import trade at the different marts also must satisfy themselves that they get good things, and all the traders must obey the State merchant in these particulars. Any one acting in defiance of these rules, and any one found forging Government letters, or altering their meaning, or attempting detention or miscarriage of such orders issued from the seat of the Government, shall be dealt with severely, ​inasmuch as they shall be deprived of their sight or of life by decapitation.
From the Dharma Raja at the head of all the ruling officers, including Lamas, Jongpens, Penlops, &c., down to the Mandals and responsible village headmen, if they do not act in accordance with the above, if they do not regard public prosperity nor check their subordinates, if they suffer Karmic laws to be subverted, and tolerate the spread of evil without making an effort to remedy it, then how will the Spiritual Guardians help them! Thus, in conformity with the text “Those who offer insults to those who live in Righteousness are worthy of being exterminated,” they shall surely be offered up as fitting sacrifice on the altar of the Great and Terrible Mahakal.
But, on the other hand, if all observe the above rules, which they must understand are for their general as well as individual good, they will put their faith in the threefold Rare One (Tri Ratua) as their God and witness, and regard the Chagdzöd (Deb Raja) as the human liege lord who has been entrusted with the weal of the nation and the prosperity of the Hierarchy in general, and serve him unto death most loyally and energetically, just as the great Righteous Prime Minister Garwa did formerly.
This completes the brief code of rules and regulations of the great Dharma Raja, of which this is the chapter regarding the officials and provincial governors, and their subordinate Kazis and
APPENDIX II
THE LAWS OF SIKHIM AND MARRIAGE CUSTOMS
SIKHIM LAWS
A Brief Translation of the Sikhim Laws, taken from a Tibetan Manuscript given to me by the late Khangsa Dewan
HISTORY
The Sikhim laws are founded on those spoken by Raja Melong-dong, who lived in India before the time of Buddha (914 B.C.). This Raja is mentioned in the Ka-gyur, in the thirty-first chapter.
They were again written by Kun-ga-gyal-tsan of Sa-kya-pa, who was born in 1182. He was king of thirteen provinces in Tibet, and has called the laws Tim-yik-shal-che-chu-sum, or Chu-dug, there being two sets, one containing thirteen laws and the other sixteen. These are practically the same. The laws were again written by De-si-sangye Gya-tsho, who was born in 1653 and was a Viceroy of Tibet. They were called by him Tang-shel-me-long-nyer-chik-pa.
The first set of laws deal with offences in general; the second set forth the duties of kings and Government servants, and are merely an amplification of some of the laws contained in the former.
SUMMARY OF THE SIXTEEN LAWS
No. 1. General Rules to be followed in Time of War
(a) It is written in the Ka-gyur that before going to war the strength of the enemy should be carefully ascertained, and whether any profit will be derived or not. It should also be seen if the dispute cannot be settled by diplomacy before going to war. Care ​should also be taken that by going to war no loss be sustained by your Government. Whatever the cause of dispute, letters and messengers between the contending parties should on no account be stopped, and messengers should be properly treated. Any one coming with overtures of peace should be well received.
(b) Should two or more enemies combine against you, no means should be left untried to separate them, and if possible to bring one over to your side, but false oaths should not be resorted to, nor the using of God’s name.
(c) The lie of the ground should be well examined to see how the roads nm, and whether your position is strong.
(d) If it is necessary to go to war, other methods having failed, you should all combine, and, being of one mind, should attack. See that there are no sick, lazy, or timid in the ranks, but only those who fear not death. See that your own soldiers obey the law, and all should obey the orders of the general. Experienced men only should be sent, and not those who look after their own interests.
The army should be divided into three divisions, under the command of different officers. The general and his staff should be trusted men who can guide the army; they should do their work thoroughly. Your horses, tents, and arms should be kept in good order. A doctor, a diviner, an astrologer, and a lama should be appointed.
The tents should be properly arranged the first day, and this arrangement adhered to, so as to prevent confusion. On moving, the fires should first be put out, the wounded should be cared for, and in crossing rivers order should be kept, and those behind should not push forward. Things found should be returned without asking for a reward, and should not be concealed or kept. Thieves are not to be flogged, but only to have their hands tied behind them, but they may be fined. Should one man kill another by mistake, he must pay the funeral expenses. Should several combine and kill another, they must pay twice the fine laid down by law. For any disputed loot lots must be drawn by the contending parties.
The general should appoint sentries, who must look to the water-supply and see they do not easily become alarmed. They should allow no armed stranger to enter the camp, and should be careful not to kill any messenger. If a sentry kills a messenger coming with terms of peace, he shall be sent to his home in disgrace, on some old, useless horse with broken harness.
No. 2. For those who are being defeated and cannot fight
When a fort is surrounded those in the fort should remain quiet and should show no fear. They should not fire off their arms uselessly, with no hope of hitting the enemy. The well within the fort should be most carefully guarded. Those within the fort should not be allowed to communicate with the enemy for fear of treachery. They must not be lazy. Until peace is declared the messenger should receive no reward.
Should you be defeated, you must give up your arms, and those who give them up must not be killed. Should any one kill a man who has given up his arms he must be derided and scoffed at as a coward.
If during a conflict you capture a general or officer of rank, you should bind his hands in front with a silk scarf; he should be allowed to ride his own horse or another good horse, and should be treated well, so that in the event of your ever falling into his hands he may treat you well also. Any other prisoners should have their hands tied behind them, and they should be made to walk. Officers should be placed on old, worn-out horses, with broken harness and rope stirrups. Should an army be defeated and obliged to fly, they should not be reprimanded, but they should not be rewarded or receive any presents, even though the leader be a great man. The prisoners should receive what is necessary for subsistence, and also expenses for religious ceremonies, and men of rank should be treated well and with consideration.
A man can only make a treaty for himself and his own descendants.
No. 3. For Officers and Government Servants
These officers should abandon their own work and apply themselves entirely to Government work; they should obey the orders of the Viceroy, and head of the Church, should not change the Shari (hat sects) and Tub-tha (religious sects).
In the fifth month they should kill no animals, and the Raja’s store should be well kept, so that there be no deficiency. They should repair the images, temples, and books, and all passes and roads. Also on the 10th of this month the “dadok” ceremony must be performed.
If a man be sent on private business, the name of Government should not be used. Debts may be recovered through officers, who should patiently hear the case, and not give arbitrary orders. They ​should give just judgments, and not favour those who can reward them. They should inquire diligently into all cases, and leave no case undecided, so that all men can say their work has been well done.
No. 4. Law of Evidence
You should listen carefully to what is said by both parties. Equals by birth should be heard at the same time and place. Those that are not equals should be heard separately. Should any one not obey your decision, he can be fined.
If evidence be false both parties are fined, according to which has given the most false evidence.
If after a decision has been given the parties wish to compound between themselves, one-half of the fine only is imposed.
No. 5. Grave Offences.
There are five sins: (1) The murder of a mother; (2) the murder of holy men; (3) the murder of a father; (4) making mischief amongst lamas; and (5) causing hurt to good men. There are also the sins of taking things from Rajas and lamas for our own use; causing a good man to fall through no fault of his own; administering poison; killing any one for gain; causing strife in a peaceful country; and making mischief.
For the above offences punishments are inflicted, such as putting the eyes out, cutting the throat, having the tongue cut out, having the hands cut off, being thrown from cliffs, and being thrown into deep water.
No. 6. Fines inflicted for Offences in order to make People remember
Certain crimes may be punished by money fines, varying in accordance with the gravity of the offence.
When a number of men have committed dacoity, they may be fined from 25 to 80 gold srang. For small offences smaller fines are imposed, and can be paid either in money or in kind, the amount to be settled by the officer trying the case.
No. 7. Law of Imprisonment
Any one rioting, using arms, and disputing near the court can be imprisoned. Thieves, and those who destroy property, and ​those who do not obey the village headman, those who give bad advice, those who abuse their betters, can be bound and put in the stocks and fined according to the law, and only released if some one in authority makes himself responsible for the fine and petitions for their release.
No. 8. In the Case of Offenders who refuse to appear an Orderly must be sent expressly to inquire into the Case
A messenger who is sent off at a moment’s notice should receive three patties of barley per diem for food and a small sum in money, according to the importance of the case in which he is employed, but the messenger’s servants should not be fed. The messenger is allowed one-fourth of the fine for his expenses.
Should an agent not settle a case properly, he must return to the villagers what he took, otherwise the villagers will have much trouble given them.
The agent should report having received the fine, on penalty of forfeiting one-fourth what he has taken. When a fine is imposed, it should be at once collected, no excuse being taken. If an agent is sent to collect rent he should be fed twice by the headman.
Of stolen property recovered by an agent the Government receives one-tenth value.
No. 9. Murder
For killing a man the fine is heavy—even up to many thousands of gold pieces. In the Tsalpa law-book it is written that if a child, a madman, or animal kills any one no fine is taken, but that money must be given by the relations of the first two for funeral expenses, and one-fourth of that amount must be given by the owner of the animal towards these expenses.
Should one man kill another and plead for mercy, he must, besides the fine, give compensation and food to the relatives of the deceased.
Should a man kill his equal and the relatives come to demand compensation, he must give them 18 oz. of gold in order to pacify them. The price of blood should never be too much reduced, or a man may say, “If this is all I have to give, I will kill another.”
An arbitrator must take the seal of each party, saying they will abide by his decision, and they must each deposit 3 oz. of gold as security.
​Fines can be paid in cash, animals, and articles of different kinds.
The price for killing a gentleman who has 300 servants, or a superintendent of a district, or a lama professor, is 300 to 400 gold srang. For full lamas, Government officers, and gentlemen with 100 servants the fine is 200 oz. of gold.
For killing gentlemen who possess a horse and five or six servants, or working lamas, the fine is 145 to 150 oz. of gold.
For killing men with no rank, old lamas, or personal servants the fine is 80 oz. of gold.
For killing a man who has done good work for Government the fine is 50 to 70 oz. of gold.
For killing common people and for villagers the price is 30 to 40 oz. of gold.
For killing unmarried men, servants, and butchers the price is 30 gold srang; and for killing blacksmiths and beggars, 10 to 20 oz. of gold.
These prices can also be paid in grain. The prices for funeral expenses must be paid within forty-nine days.
On the fines being paid, a letter must be written, and a copy given to each party, saying that everything has been settled. If a case is reopened a fine must be paid by him who opens the case. The murderer must write to the effect he will not commit such a crime again. Part of the fines can be given towards the funeral expenses of the deceased.
No. 10. Bloodshed
In the old law it is written that for any drop of blood shed the price varies from one to one-quarter zho. A man may even be beheaded for wounding a superior. For wounding his own servant a man is not fined, but he must tend the wounded man. Should two men fight and one wound the other, he who first drew his knife is fined, and he who is wounded must be tended by the other till his wounds be well. The fines are payable in money or kind. Should one man wound another without any fight, he is fined according to the law of murder.
If in a fight a limb or an eye is injured the compensation to be given is fixed by Government.
No. 11. For those who are False and Avaricious the following Oaths are required
If it is thought a man is not telling the truth an oath should be administered. At the time of taking the oath powerful gods should be invoked, and those who are to administer the oath must be present. It is written in ancient law that the bird of Paradise should not be killed, the poisonous snake should not be thrown down, the raven should not be stoned, and the small turquoise should not be defiled. Thus pure lamas and monks should not be sworn.
Magicians, shameless persons, women, fools, the dumb, and children should not be sworn.
Men should be employed who know both parties and are intelligent and truthful. Those willing to take an oath should be of equal rank. When all are present the case should first be settled, if possible, by arbitration. If this fails the ordeal either by hot stone or boiling oil is resorted to.
Ordeal by Oil.—The oil must be supplied by Government, and must be pure. It is boiled in a pan at least three inches deep. In the oil a black stone and a white stone are placed, of equal size and weight. He who has to take the oath must first wash his hands in water, in milk, and in widow’s urine. His hand is then bound in a cloth and sealed. This is done a day or two before the ordeal, in order to give him a chance of confessing. The vessel with the boiling oil is then placed so that the stones cannot be seen, and he has to take one out. If he takes out the white one without any burn he wins his case. He who gets the black stone is sure to be burnt, and loses his case. Should he who gets the white stone be slightly burnt, it means he has partially spoken the truth, and wins half his case.
Ordeal by Hot Stone.—The stone is made hot by the blacksmith, taken out of the fire with tongs, and placed on a brass dish. The man’s hands are washed as before, examined to see what marks there are produced by labour, and the hot stone placed in the palm. With the stone he must walk four to seven paces. His hand is then bound up, and left for three to seven days. On examination, if there are no marks, or if there is a long mark called rdo-lam, he wins his case. He also wins his case if the stone bursts three times in being heated. It depends on the number of marks how much of his case he wins.
A cloth and a rug have to be paid as expenses, and the brass ​vessels go to the blacksmith. In order to test the oil for boiling, a grain of barley is thrown in; if it flies into the air the oil is ready. Whilst placing his hand in the oil or holding the hot stone a statement in writing of the case is placed on the person’s head.
The ordeal by oil may be gone through without using the stone.
Mud and water can be used in place of oil. Hot iron used to be employed in place of the stone, but is now discontinued.
No. 12. Theft
For taking a Jongpen’s or other great man’s property 10,000 times their value has to be given in return. For taking a lama’s property eighty times their value has to be given, a neighbour’s property nine times, and a villager’s seven times; for taking a stranger’s property four times.
Beggars who steal from hunger have only to give back what they took.
Should one man accuse another falsely of stealing, he must give him as compensation what he accused him of stealing.
Should a man find anything on the road, and without telling take it for himself, he must be fined double its value; but should he tell, he receives one-third the value. Should any one recover stolen property, but not be able to catch the thief, he receives half the property recovered.
Should any one find a horse, any cattle, yaks, or sheep, and keep them for a year without discovering the owner, he receives one-fourth the value, provided he has not in the meantime used the animals for his own benefit.
Should any one wound a thief he is not fined.
If a thief whilst running away be killed by an arrow or stone, a small fine only is taken.
Should any one, having caught a thief, kill him, he is fined according to the law of murder. The reward for catching a thief is from 1 to 5 oz. of gold, according to the amount of the property stolen.
No. 13. Disputes between near Relatives, between Man and Wife, and between Neighbours who have Things in Common
If a husband wishes to be separated from his wife, he must pay her from 18 zho, the amount varying in accordance with the length of time they have been married.
​If the wife wishes to leave her husband, she must pay him 12 zho and one suit of clothes. The wife, on separation, also receives the clothes given to her at her marriage, a list of which is always taken, or its equivalent in money.
Should there be children, the father takes the boys and the mother the girls, the father paying from 5 to 15 zho for each son, called the price of milk. If the woman has committed no fault she receives her ornaments.
Should a family wish to separate, a list of the whole property should be taken and it should be divided according to circumstances. The father and mother are asked with whom they would like to live, and if there is any dispute lots are drawn. The married children’s property is first separated from the rest, and if any children are going to school their expenses must be taken from the whole before decision.
No. 14. Adultery or taking another’s Wife
The old law runs that if any one takes a Raja’s or lama’s wife he may be banished or have his hands cut off. For violating a woman of different position 3 oz. of gold have to be paid to the woman’s relations, and 4 gold srang to Government, besides many things in kind.
For violation of a woman of the same position 2 or 3 gold srang and several kinds of articles have to be paid.
If the woman goes of her own accord to the man he has only to pay 1 gold srang and three kinds of articles.
Should one man’s wife entice another married man to go with her, she has to pay seven things in kind.
Should a man and a woman cohabit on a journey there is no fine.
No. 15. Law of Contract
Should any one take a loan of cattle, yaks, sheep, &c., and they die in his charge, he must pay for them. Should they die one night after being returned, it is the owner’s loss. If they die before midnight of the night they are returned the borrower has to pay.
Should a horse die from a wound whilst on loan, one-fourth to one-third its value will have to be paid.
Should any one, having made an agreement to take anything, refuse to take it, the articles being good, he must pay one-fourth ​of the value. If there be any mistake in an account, it can be rectified up to one year.
No. 16. For Uncivilised People
These laws apply only to such uncivilised people as Bhuteas, Lepchas, Mongolians, who know no law; therefore what is written below is not required in Tibet. The Mongolians also have their law, written by Raja Kesar, of which we know little.
Any Government messenger must be supplied with what he wants (such as horses, food, &c.), and if not provided he can take them. Also whilst halting he must be supplied with food and fire. But the messenger must not draw his sword or use his bow, or he will be liable to a fine, and he must only take what is necessary to the performance of the Government work.
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS AMONGST THE SIKHIMESE, TIBETANS, AND BHUTANESE
These customs have been gathered from actual observation, and are those now observed by the people.
If the eldest brother takes a wife she is common to all his brothers.
If the second brother takes a wife she is common to all the brothers younger than himself.
The eldest brother is not allowed to cohabit with the wives of the younger brothers.
Should there be children in the first case, the children are named after the eldest brother, whom they call father; in the second case, after the second brother, and so on.
Three brothers can marry three sisters, and all the wives be in common, but this is not very often met with. In such a case the children of the eldest girl belong to the eldest brother, of the second to the second, and of the third to the third, if they each bear children. Should one or more not bear children, then the children are apportioned by arrangement. Two men not related can have one wife in common, but this arrangement is unusual.
The marriage ceremony consists almost entirely in feasting, which takes place after the usual presents have been given to the girl’s relations. These presents constitute the woman’s price, and vary in accordance with the circumstances of both parties.
​The only religious ceremony is performed by the village headman, who offers up a bowl of murwa to the gods, and, presenting a cup of the same murwa to the bride and bridegroom, blesses them, and hopes the union may be a fruitful one. Lamas take no part in the ceremony.
The marriage tie is very light, and can be dissolved at any time by either the man or the woman.
A man may marry his mother’s brother’s daughter, but he can marry none of his other first cousins till the second generation.
The law of succession seems to be generally, though not always, as follows:
1. Son.
2. Grandson, through the male line.
3. Brother by same mother.
| 4. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | Father’s brother’s son | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | by choice. |
| 4. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | Father’s sister’s son | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | by choice. |
| 4. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | Mother’s brother’s son | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | by choice. |
| 4. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | Mother’s sister’s son | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | by choice. |
5. If a man leaves only distant relatives, they receive a portion, a portion also going to the lamas, and the remainder to Government.
6. If a man dies without relatives, a sufficient amount for funeral
APPENDIX III
A LIST OF SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL ANIMALS AND BIRDS TO BE FOUND IN THESE COUNTRIES, AND THEIR HABITAT
Elephants.—Along the lower hills and in the Duars, penetrating in the rainy season into the hills to an elevation of 11,000 feet.
Rhino.—In a few of the lower valleys of Bhutan, but not common.
Bison.—In the lower valleys and outer hills of Bhutan.
Mythun.—Do. do.
Tiger.—In all the outer hills and valleys, and occasionally in the lower valleys up to 9000 feet.
Common Leopard.—Throughout the hills up to an elevation of 8000 feet.
Clouded Leopard.—At elevations from 4000 feet to 6000 feet. Snow Leopard. — Rare, and only met with at high elevations above 11,000 feet.
Black Leopard.—Rare, but met with in the dense jungles at elevations of 3000 feet to 4000 feet.
Lynx.—Rare; only at high elevations bordering on Tibet over 16,000 feet.
Wolf.—Do. do.
Jackal.—Has been imported from the plains of India, and is occasionally seen as high as 6000 feet.
Wild Dog.—Not very common, but is met with in packs between the plains and a height of 6000 feet. There is said to be a second species, but I have never met with it.
Shau (Cervus affines).—Inhabits a tract to the north-east of the Chumbi Valley.
Sambur.—In all the lower hills.
Cheetah.—Do. do.
Hog-deer.—Do. do.
​Barking Deer.—Throughout the hills up to an elevation of 9000 feet.
Musk Deer.—In the higher valleys at an elevation of 11,000 feet.
Goral.—Throughout the hills at an elevation of 4000 feet to 8000 feet.
Serow.—Throughout the hills at elevations from 4000 feet to 9000 feet.
Thar.—Somewhat rare; at elevations from 6000 feet to 14,000 feet.
Takin (Budorcas taxicolor Whitei).—Very rare; only occasionally in Bhutan, at elevations from 12,000 feet upwards.
Tibetan Gazelle.—At elevations of from 17,000 feet to 19,000 feet in a few of the higher valleys opening into Tibet.
Nyen (Ovis ammon).—Only found on very high ground on the borders of Tibet, from 17,000 feet upwards.
Nao, or Burhel (Ovis nahura).—Throughout the hills at high elevations from 16,000 feet upwards.
Kyang.—Very rare; at high elevations on the borders of Tibet.
Bear.—Three species, one inhabiting high altitudes from 11,000 feet to 12,000 feet; the common black bear, found everywhere, from 6000 feet downwards; and a third species, also said to be common, inhabiting the lower valleys.
Monkeys.—Three species, one inhabiting the slopes near the plains, one at an elevation from 3000 feet to 6000 feet, and the langur, found from 7000 feet to 12,000 feet.
Cat-bear.—Not uncommon at elevations from 7000 feet to 12,000 feet.
Cats.—Many species, which inhabit the dense jungle all along the hills.
Game-birds
Jungle Fowl.—Throughout the hills, up to 4000 feet.
Kelij Pheasant.—Throughout the hills at elevations of 2000 feet to 4000 feet.
Tragopan, or Argus Pheasant.—Throughout the hills at elevations of 7000 feet to 9000 feet.
Blood Pheasant.—In the Sikhim hills and in Western Bhutan at 9000 feet to 13,000 feet.
Monal.—Throughout the hills at elevations of 9000 feet to 15,000 feet.
Wood Partridge.—There are two species, distinguished only by a white marking on the neck and a slight difference in size. Found ​throughout the hills in dense bamboo jungle at 5000 feet to 8000 feet.
Snow Partridge.—Throughout the hills above 15,000 feet.
Snow Cock.—Do. do.
Woodcock.—In the cold season in the middle valleys and in summer in the higher valleys, but not above 13,000 feet.
Solitary Snipe.—In wet, marshy ground above 11,000 feet.
Ram Chicoor.—Throughout the hills at elevations above 14,000 feet.
Tibetan Sand Grouse.—Along the Tibetan boundary above 17,000 feet.
Quail.—Found in cornfields in Bhutan at 9000 feet in May and June.
Partridge.—Only a few at high elevations.
Duck.—Cold-weather visitors. Only a very few breed on the higher lakes.
Geese.—Do. do.
Snipe.—Do. do.
Pigeons.—Imperial, snow, blue rock, and many species of wood
APPENDIX IV
DESCRIPTIONS OF THE ART SPECIMENS ILLUSTRATED IN CHAPTER XXIII
Plate I
1. Pierced copper-gilt ornaments used with a rice puja (Bhutan).
2. Copper teapot, with silver mounts (Bhutan).
3. Brass purpa or demon dagger used at services in Northern Buddhist monasteries (Bhutan).
4 and 9. Wood, silver, and silver-gilt gyeling (trumpets) used in temples (Bhutan).
5. Dagger with open-work, pierced, and embossed silver and silver-gilt sheath, set with turquoise (Bhutan).
6. Embossed silver and silver-gilt pan-box, set with coral and turquoise (Bhutan).
7. Temple bell, cast in Bhutan.
8. Sword with silver and silver-gilt scabbard, and silver-mounted leather belt with silk tassels (Bhutan).
10. Wine-flask made from a mythun horn mounted in copper (Bhutan).
11. Brass dorji, or thunderbolt, used by lamas at services (Tibet).
Plate II
1, 3, 5, 13. Ginger-jars, plate, and bottle brought from Lhasa (China).
2 and 4. Brass cymbals (Tibet).
6. Steel helmet (Bhutan).
7 and 11. Copper embossed ladles used to pour oil on bodies during cremation (Tibet).
8. Small skull drum (Tibet).
9. Silver-gilt hat ornament, set with turquoise and carbuncle (Shigatse, Tibet).
INDEX
* Achi-pipa, 152
* Aloo Dorji, 132, 133
* Amban, 32
* Ambari Falakata, 274, 276, 277
* Am-mo-chhu, 3, 4, 5, 115
* Andu-choling, 168, 170
* Angdu-phodang, 116, 132, 138, 151, 152, 172
* Arun Singh, 274
* Auckland, 271
* Ba-chhu, 153
* Bagh, 269
* Bailey, 94, 210, 213
* Bala Pass, 279
* Bam-tsho, 90
* Banksa, 269
* Bara, 269, 279, 280
* Barshong, 177
* Be, 64
* Beila, 6
* Beila-jong, 160
* Bell, 96
* Bhulka, 269
* Bhutan, 113, 134, 138, &c.
* Bhutanese, 133, 135
* Bhuteas, 9
* Biafu-la, 5
* Bijni, 269
* Bijni Raja, 267
* Black Mountain, 5
* Blake, 254
* Bod-la, 18
* Bogle, 12, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 253, 265, 266, 267, 288, 289
* Booree Goomah, 269
* Buddha, 137
* Buddh Gaya, 50, 175
* Budorcas taxicolor Whitei, 234
* Buxa, 139, 231, 269
* Cameron, 279
* Campbell, 94, 211, 283
* Campbell, Col., 278
* Campbell, Dr., 272
* Canning, 275
* Canton, 137
* Chalimaphe, 131, 132, 220
* Chalu-chhu, 113
* Chamka-chhu, 162
* Champa Lhakhang Monastery, 166, 168
* Chamurchi, 269, 278, 279, 280
* Cha-na-na, 120
* Chandenbi, 155, 171
* Chapakha, 153
* Chappagorie, 269
* Chappakumar, 269
* Chebu Lama, 257, 261, 277
* Cheri Monastery, 177
* Cherring, 269
* Chetang, 202
* Cheungtong, 80
* Chiabanjan-la, 4
* Chichacotta, 264
* Chien Lung, 285
* China, 133, 285, 286, 287, 288
* Chinese, 133, 137
* Chiu-li-la, 5
* Cho-la, 4
* Cholamo Lakes, 74
* Choley Tulku, 42
* Chongdu Gompa, 153
* Chophey Namgyel, 17
* Chumbi Valley, 1, 3, 32, 296 ​
* Chumbo, 210
* Chumik Gompa, 168
* Chomolhari, 90, 115, 145, 178, 179
* Chungkhar, 187, 188
* Churkolla, 269
* Dalhousie, 273
* Daling, 258, 278
* Dalingkote, 269, 292
* Damsong, 278
* Damtheng, 116
* Damthong, 116
* Dang-la, é6
* Darendra, 293
* Darjeeling, 1, 4, 257
* Darrang, 270
* Davis, 250
* Deb, 139, 240
* Deb Jeedhur, 289, 290, 291
* Deb Nagpo, 132
* Deb Raja, 139, 141, 142, 151, 153, 174, 238, 239, 240
* Deb Sangye, 152
* Debung, 28
* Deb Zimpon, 141, 174, 176, 221
* Dechen-phodang, 135, 165, 176
* Dechenphuk, 177
* Dejong, 16
* Dekila, 204
* Delai Lama, 148
* Demri-chhu, 188
* De-si-sangye Gya-tsho, 311
* Dewangiri, 184, 186, 277, 278
* Dharma Raja, 135, 139, 142, 177, 226
* Dhubri, 184
* Diboo, 34,78
* Dokyong-la, 5, 138, 173, 221
* Dong-la, 195
* Dongma-chhu, 6, 113, 187
* Dongna-jong, 233, 278
* Dongo-la, 194
* Dong Shima, 184
* Donkhar, 194
* Donkia-la, 4, 74, 84
* Dorunga, 184
* Dover, 84, 95,
* Dow Penjo, 123
* Dozam-la, 191
* Dubdi Monastery, 53
* Dug-gye-jong, 117, 120, 129, 144, 152, 213, 216
* Dunsford, 277, 279
* Durand, 256, 257
* Durkey Sirdar, 85, 86
* Durunder Narain, 264
* Eden, 12, 125, 24T, 244, 255, 257, 258, 259, 276, 277, 280
* Edgar, 283
* Entchi Kazi, 26
* Everest, 84
* Falakata, 272, 276, 293
* Freshfield, 95
* Gang-chung-Dorona, 138
* Gangtak, 16, 20, 28, 33, 53, 81
* Gauhati, 184
* Gautsa, 212
* Gau-Zangpo, 131, 132
* Ghassa, 179, 180
* Ghassa-la, 133
* Giaogong, 75, 83, 86
* Giucha-la, 55, 69
* Ging-la, 194
* Goalpara, 1
* Gom Kora, 192
* Goomar, 269
* Gorina, I2I
* Gough, 277
* Grant, Sir J. P., 275
* Griffiths, 10, 162, 163, 165, 254
* Guru Lhakhang, 167
* Gyaltsap-Tenzing, 288
* Gyamtso-na, 86
* Gyantse, 210
* Gya-tsa, 161
* Hah, 3
* Hah-chhu, 3, 117
* Hah Jongpen, 117
* Hah-la, 115, 116
* Hah-pa, 113
* Hah Zimpon, 116
* Halliday, Sir F., 274
* Hamilton, 241, 243, 250, 265, 267 ​
* Hastings, Warren, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 265, 266, 289
* Hastings House, 49
* Henderson, 109
* Hickley, 95
* Hodges, 95
* Hoffmann, 63, 67
* Hooker, 17
* Hopkinson, 275
* Horna Della Penna, 288
* Hram, 182
* Hyslop, 51, 211, 212, 220, 232, 263, 283
* Iggulden, 82, 83, 84, 85, 89
* Jaigaon, 235
* Jalpaiguri, 1, 275, 277
* Jenkins, 271, 272, 273
* Jerung Denjung, 61
* Jeylap-la, 4, 115
* Jigme Namgyal, 132
* Jongri, 54
* Jongsa, 292
* Kabru, 56
* Kagyur, 311
* Kala-tsho, 1, 4, 210
* Kalling, 269
* Kamrup, 1
* Kangchenjhau, 75
* Kangchenjunga, 3, 33, 56, 92
* Kang-la, 197, 198
* Kar-chhu Pass, 6
* Karponang, 211
* Kartok Lama, 19
* Katmandu, 267, 300
* Katzog Kazi, 213
* Keepo, 269
* Khamba-jong, 76, 84, 87
* Kham-Mina-Andong, 16
* Khangsa Dewan, 19, 20, 26
* Kholung-chhu, 192
* Khoma-chhu, 195
* Khomteng Lhakhang, 201
* Khye Bumsu, 16
* Ki-ki-la, 162
* Kulu-Kangri, 145, 173
* Kun-ga-gyal-tsan, 311
* Kun-yang Namgyal, 124
* Kurseong, 25
* Kuru-chhu, 3, 6, 194, 195, 201
* Kuru Sampa, 195
* Kutzab Lobzang Tenzing, 31
* Kya-la, 113
* Lachen, 70, 83, 193
* Lachung, 74, 79, 81, 296
* Lachung Monastery, 195
* Lamteng, 74, 83, 193
* Langmarpu-chhu, 113
* Langpo-chhu, 92
* Lari Pema, 26
* Lepcha, 7
* Lhakhang, 196, 198, 199, 202
* Lhasa, 285, 286
* Lhuntsi, 194
* Lingshi-la, 182
* Lingtu, 18
* Lingzi, 179
* Lobrak, 3
* Lome-la, 5, 234
* Lonak, 63, 70
* Lung, 207
* Lungna-la, 70
* Lungri Sampa, 113
* Macaulay, 18
* Macdonald, 282
* Macgregor, 251
* Madu-chhu, 46, 156
* Maharaj Kumar, 95
* Malcaster, 277, 278, 279
* Manning, 237
* Marco Polo, 137
* Markham, 237, 267
* Massong-chung-dong, 5, 115
* Memo-Tashi Kyeden, 168
* Meru-la, 115
* Metsephu, 198
* Migyur Tempa, 291
* Millett, 297
* Minto, 96
* Mo-chhu, 45, 149, 150, 173
* Moinam, 5
* Momay Samdung, 76
* Monass, 4, 5 ​
* Morgan, 213
* Moti Ram, 34
* Mug, 202
* Murray, 82, 85, 86
* Mynaguri, 278
* Nagartsi, 202
* Naguchi Raja, 167
* Nangna-la, 90
* Narı, 153
* Natu-la, 4
* Nelung, 210
* Ninser Tulku, 149
* Norbugang, 138, 144, 146, 148
* Norbu Sring, 204
* Nyalamdung, 196
* Nyeru-chhu, 208, 209
* O'Connor, 50, 51, 94
* Paharias, 9
* Pakhyong, 19, 22
* Pami-la, 160
* Pangkha, 196
* Pangri-sampi-gnatsa, 176
* Panhunri, 84, 89
* Par-chhu, 3
* Paro, 3, 117, 134, 144, 219
* Paro Donyer, 123
* Paro Penlop, 131, 133, 160, 257, 287
* Paro Ta-tshang Monastery, 128, 216
* Patan, 300
* Paul, 17, 19, 140, 146, 151, 157, 166, 172, 262, 282, 288
* Pearse, 77
* Pekin, 250, 287
* Pēle-la, 155, 172
* Pema, 32
* Pemberton, 158, 170, 196, 241, 253, 289
* Pemi-chhu, 130
* Pemiongtchi Monastery, 53
* Penchen Rimpochi, 237, 243, 289
* Penchoo Namgyel, 16
* Phaju-ding, 135
* Phallut, 4, 75
* Phari, 116, 117, 160, 183, 212, 213
* Phodong Lama, 20, 21, 26, 28, 40, 79
* Pho-mo-chang-thang, 207, 210
* Poonakha, 132, 134, 144, 146, 150, 164, 165, 176
* Poonakha Jongpen, 133
* Poorbu Dewan, 20, 21, 26
* Potala, 124
* Power, 258
* Pumthang, 34
* Purangir Gosain, 253, 267
* Purboo, 61
* Radong-la, 6, 146
* Rai Lobzang Chöden Sahib, 105, 141, 213
* Rai Ugyen Dorji Bahadur, 113, 120, 165, 219, 281
* Rajendra Narayan, 23
* Ram Narayan, 293
* Rampini, 291
* Rangpur, 239
* Ratsowok, 154
* Raydak, 3
* Rennick, 51, 140, 14I, 172, 210, 212, 213, 232, 262, 263, 282, 283
* Rham-tsho, 210
* Rhenok, 19
* Rhenok Kazi, 26
* Ridha, 154, 172
* Rimpi-chhu, 65
* Rinchen Dolma, 122
* Rinchengong, 116
* Ringen, 3, 63
* Rokubi, 155, 171
* Rubdentze, 17
* Rungeet, 3
* Rungnu-chhu, 3, 57
* Ryder, 209
* Sagang, 208
* Sakya, 16
* Samtengang, 172
* Samtsi, 278
* Sandukphu, 4
* Sangbay, 292
* Sang-chu-cho-khor, 129 ​
* Sanklan Sampo, 64
* Sankos, 4
* Santa Narayan Nazir Deo, 292
* Sarat Chunder Das, 205
* Saunders, 256
* Senchu-la, 113
* Sera, 28
* Shabdung Rimpochi, 124, 147, 152, 153, 158
* Shalaptsa-la, 195
* Shoe Dewan, 20, 21, 26
* Sibu-la, 75
* Sikhim, 16, 45, 67, 95, 292, 293, 294, 295, 297, 311
* Siliguri, 28
* Siniolchu, 59, 67
* Simpson, 257, 276
* Sintoka, 131, 132, 137, 173, 176
* Simvoo, 59
* Singhi-jong, 194, 195, 197
* Singli-la, 4
* Sipchu, 113, 258
* So-na-ga-sa, 150
* Srongtsan Gompo, 302
* Subadar Jehandad Khan, 140
* Suckee, 269
* Swayambunath, 156
* Taga-la, 5
* Taka Penlop, 141, 148
* Takphu-chhu, 113
* Tak-kyun Gompa, 118
* Ta-la, 207
* Ta-lo, 138, 144, 146, 147
* Talung, 65
* Tang-chhu, 153, 154
* Tango, 150
* Tango Lama, 149, 150, 225
* Tashi-cho-jong, 3, 134, 137, 165, 166, 167, 199
* Tashigong, 189, 190, I94
* Tashi Lama, 50
* Tashi Lhunpo, 88
* Tashiling, 156
* Tashi-yangtsi, 194
* Tassithing, 20, 26
* Tassisudon, 125
* Ta-tshang, 132, 139
* Ta-tshang Khenpo, 224
* Ta-tshang Nunnery, 87
* Tawang, 1, 4, 202
* Taylor, 31, 32
* Tayo-jong, 127, 160
* Tchin-chhu, 130, 131, 134
* Teble, 91
* Teesta, 1, 3, 4, 64
* Temba-chhu, 77
* Temo-la, 5, 213
* Tenzing Namgyel, 17
* Teo-pe-rong-chhu, 113, 138
* Thaling Monastery, 168
* Thangu, 73, 74, 83
* Thanka-la, 4
* Thimbu Jongpen, 132, 135, 148, 149, 151, 163, 173, 176, 179, 181
* Thotab Namgyel, 22
* Tibet, 113, 208, 238, 243, 288
* Tibetans, 133, 134
* Tod, 101
* Tombs, 280
* Tongsa, 144, 156, 161, 162, 171
* Tongsa Donyer, 152, 165
* Tongsa Penlop, 50, 130, 132, 139, 141, 220, 278, 280, 287
* Tongsa's sister, 166, 168
* Tongsa Zimpon, 159
* Torsa, 3
* Trood, 235
* Tsang-chhu, 173
* Tsedun Tenzing Wangpo, 31
* Tshang-kha, 156
* Tsha-za-la, 154
* Tshona, 194
* Tumlong, 82
* Turner, 12, 125, 128, 150, 153, 249, 250, 251, 253, 255
* Tusum Mani, 197
* Tuwa-jong, 203
* Tytler, 279, 280
* Tzenguikang, 69
* U Depon, 31
* Ugyen Wang-chuk, Sir, 13, 15, 131, 132, 134, 142, 157, 158, 160, 162, 163, 164, 166, 168, 170, 172, 173, 176, 185, 199, 206, 228, 281, 283
* Ugyen Zangmo, 122
* Viceroy, 151
* Waddell, 14
* Wagya-la, 209
* Wandipore, 151, 152, 167
* Wang-chhu, 35
* Wong-du-choling, 168
* Wang-tung, 194
* Watson, 279
* Wilton, 211
* Yac-cha, 79
* Yak-la, 4
* Yamdok-tsho, 210
* Yatung, 8, 31
* Yee-Shan, 31
* Ye-la, 196
* Yeum-tsho, 87
* Yeum-tsho-la, 68
* Yo-to-la, 6, 161, 170, 188, 189
* Younghusband, 282
* Zadu-la, 5
* Zamtu-chhu, 67
* Zemri-gatchie, 150
* Zemu Glacier, 68
* Zemu River, 68
* Zemu Valley, 68
* Zumerkote, 269
THE END
Printed by Ballantyne & Co. Limited Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London
* ↑ This puja is performed in order to remove our enemies.
* ↑ 1 srang = 1 oz.
* ↑ 17 patties = 1 maund, or 82 lb.
* ↑ The word “zho” means a drachm, or is a coin two-thirds of a rupee.
|to=226|tosection=part1}}
TONGSA-JONG
​ On our arrival at the ridge immediately below the castle we were met by a large party of retainers, leading gaily caparisoned ponies and mules for us. They were hardly necessary as we were already so well provided for, the Tongsa having placed most excellent mules at our service since leaving Poonakha, carefully selecting those we had tried and liked best; but to send additional mounts was another proof of his hospitality. Amid a salute of guns, which reverberated grandly through the rocky gorge, we emerged from the bridge, where a procession of gaily dressed minstrel singers and dancers met us, and conducted us up the hilly zigzag singing verses of praise and welcome in a curious but not unpleasant monotone. There were seven women singers, peculiar to Bhutan, four clarion players, two drummers, and two gong-strikers in addition to the dancers. We were thus ceremoniously ushered into our camp, where Sir Ugyen met us with a very hearty welcome, and gave us tea and milk, carefully seeing himself that we had all we required. He had with kind forethought sent four picked men to carry Paul, who suffered from an injured back, over the steepest parts of the journey. All Bhutanese officials are carried when the road is too steep and bad to ride a mule, but that is not often, as the mules will go almost anywhere. The orderly who carries the officer, seated pickaback in a strong cloth
​firmly knotted on the man’s forehead, is always a specially picked and wonderfully strong man. I tried this mode of progression once, but it failed to commend itself to me, and I think Paul was wise in refusing it on this occasion. The men were, however, most useful in lending a helping hand over the worst places. I felt obliged, much against my inclination, to ride up the ladder-like steps on our way to the castle, and they held me on, one on either side, so that I could not possibly fall off. I found Captain Pemberton’s description, written so many years before, exactly described the situation. “The rider, if a man of any rank, is supported by two runners, one on each side, who press firmly against his back while the pony is struggling against the difficulties of the ascent, and give thus such efficient support that no muscular exertion is necessary to retain his seat in the most trying ascents.”
The castle is so irregularly built that it is somewhat difficult to describe. The building on the extreme south was erected in great haste by the first Shabdung Rimpochi to check an inroad from the east of Bhutan, and is a small, low range forming the sides of the present courtyard, and commanding beautiful views. On the north side of the court is a fine five-storied building, in which the Penlop resides when here. It was originally erected by Mi-gyur Namgyal, the first Deb, but it suffered badly in the earthquake of 1897, and the two upper stories have been rebuilt and decorated by the present Penlop. Immediately behind this building is the main tower, surmounted by a gilded canopy, while attached to the west wall is a covered way leading to a second courtyard. A flight of steps leading out of the first court to the north brought me to a large rectangular yard, at the south end of which was a very pretty, though rather small, office for the Donyer, or steward, on the east another building of five stories, each with a fine verandah, while on the first story were the very fine temples, lately repainted at Sir Ugyen’s expense. There is a similar building on the west. On the north is the wall supporting ​the last courtyard, where there is a lofty chapel, in which Sir Ugyen was erecting a gigantic sitting image of the Coming Buddha, made of stucco, and at least twenty feet high, but not then painted. A passage to the east from the third courtyard led to the north of a battlemented terrace built up from the ravine below, and a gateway on the north-west opened out on the ridge and the choten that we had reached by the lower road on the day of our arrival.
Below the eastern wall in the ravine is the building containing the prayer-wheels worked by water from which the palace took its original name of Chu-knor-rab-tsi. In it are two sets of wheels, each axle containing three manis, or cylinders, containing prayers, one above the other, the smallest at the top. They had evidently not been used for some time, so the next day, having nothing better to do, we assisted in putting them in order, by clearing out the waterways, which had been blocked with stones and rubbish, and hope it may be placed to our credit as a work of merit.
Later I received visits from the Tongsa Zimpon, who is a son of Sir Ugyen’s sister and the Bya-gha Jongpen, and is married to Sir Ugyen’s daughter, and also from the castle monks, who struck me as a much better class of men than usual, pleasant in their manners, clean, and educated.
Early one morning the sound of a very sweet-toned gong warned us that the spring ceremony of blessing the rice-fields was about to begin. A long, picturesque procession of men and women, led by the Donyer, came winding down the hillside until the first rice-field, into which water had been running all the day before, was reached. The field below was still dry, and, turning in there, they all sat down and had some light refreshment. Suddenly the men sprang up, throwing off their outer garments; this was the signal for the women to rush to the inundated field and to commence throwing clods of earth and splashes of muddy water on the men below as they tried to climb up. Then followed a wild and mad, though always good-humoured, ​struggle between the men and women in the water, the men doing their utmost to take possession of the watery field, the women equally determined to keep them out. The Donyer, the leader of the men, suffered severely, though the courtesies of war were strictly observed, and if one of the assailants fell his opponents helped him up and gave him a breathing-space to recover before a fresh onset was made. But gradually the women drove the men slowly down the whole length of the field, the last stand being made by a very stout and powerful official, who, clinging to an overhanging rock, with his back to his foes, used his feet to scoop up such quantities of water and mud that no one was able to come near him. However, all the other men having been driven off, he and the Donyer were allowed at last to crawl up on the path, and the combat for that year was over. This was looked on as a very propitious ending, as the women’s victory portends during the coming season fertility of the soil and increase amongst the flocks, so they dispersed to their various homes rejoicing. After witnessing the curious ceremony we went to the castle, and were received by Sir Ugyen, who took us into the courtyard and showed us over the chapels, which he has lately renovated lavishly, but at the same time in very good taste.
From the verandah we witnessed two lama dances, the Chogyal-Yab-Yum and the Shanak, but these have been so often described by travellers who have penetrated to Leh or have seen them elsewhere that I need only say that the dresses worn were a gift lately presented by Sir Ugyen to the lamas and were most gorgeous, and the dance was excellently performed. Unfortunately, before the second dance was over the rain came down in torrents, and I had the performance stopped to save the dresses from being ruined.