cold became still more intense, and we shivered under the canvas of our summer tents. At

about half-past seven the sun appeared from behind the mountain opposite our camp and

relieved us a little. The day promised to be sunny. We took our usual walk in the

morning along the bank of the frozen river and noticed lammergeyers sitting on the rocks

about the monastery, as if expecting some prey and indeed, toward evening one of the

local guardsmen brought the news that the Major's wife had died that morning.

"Sir," he said, "the Major has been oppressing the poor people of the

place and did much harm to Your Honor and therefore the protecting gods of the monastery

punished him." Several days before I had told the Major that pneumonia could not be

cured at such an altitude and in such dreadful conditions.

Rumors were current that the Joint-Governors of Nag-chu on arrival at Tsom-ra had again

returned to Nag-chu. A local headman, a short man with a sly face and quiet manners,

came to see me in my tent and repeated the usual local grievances. He told me that the

region had been taken over by the Government of Lhasa some twelve years ago. "Under

Chinese rule we lived much more happily," said the headman, "but now are

suffering from heavy taxes levied by the Tibetans, who reduced our people to utter

poverty. Do not believe the Tibetans. Since the time we became Tibetan mi-ser (peasants

or subjects) four chyi-chyab or High Commissioners changed, but we did not see any

justice from them." Our conversation was interrupted by a soldier from the Major

who came to tell us that the Joint-Governors of Nag-chu were due to arrive the next day.

Everybody rejoiced, seeing in this the probable end of our detention. The local people

were particularly pleased as they were tired of serving us and the Major and his

soldiers. In the evening, when the moon rose above the rocks, the new guards sang the

Kesar saga and accompanied their song by a weird dance. "Today Kesar's horse

arrived, today the sun will rise, on the glacier the lion will walk about," sang

the Hor-pas, – a passage from the song about the war of Kesar against the King of Hor.

Their shrill voices rose high in the solitude of the night. In singing the Kesar song

they wished us good luck on our way to far distant India. Their song was abruptly

stopped by a Kham-pa. "Do not sing so loudly," said the man, "otherwise

the Tibetans in the monastery will hear you and will be angry with you." The song

stopped abruptly and the audience dispersed, each going to his tent. We stayed outside

for some time, speaking of the strange fascination that the Kesar saga has on these

simple-minded nomads. We slept little that night. The Major ordered the camp for the

Governors to be erected during the night, and there was a continuous going and coming

the whole night. Next morning at about ten o'clock two Tibetans arrived: the

*do-nyer*, or representative, accompanied by the cook of the Governor. They were

dressed in the usual Tibetan style, with enormous fur caps, and carried *ga-u* or

incantation boxes. They had Russian rifles adorned by *khatags* and multicolored

flags.

About noon a general commotion announced the arrival of the Joint-Governors, who

proceeded at once to their tents. An hour later the Governors sent a message, informing

us of their visit. We all assembled in the dining tent. The Governors came in

procession, followed by a number of retainers, who carried presents for us—two bags of

barley for one hundred animals, *tsam-pa* and tea of very inferior quality! The

Nag-chu *khan-po* was a middle-sized man of about sixty, dressed in the usual red

and purple lama dress. He was considered a very able diplomat in Tibet, and was known

under the name of Gomang garpön. In his youth he entered the Gomang da-tshang of the

Dre-pung Monastery, but left the monastery for China, where he led an errant life,

visiting different parts of China, Mongolia, and even Siberia. Afterward he spent five

years in government service in Peking, where he met Rockhill, and seven years as Tibetan

trade agent at Sining in the Kansu Province. He possessed a very fluent knowledge of

Chinese and some knowledge of Mongolian. He was a square-jawed gentleman, and had the

reputation of being extremely arrogant and difficult to deal with. He wore black Chinese

spectacles, trying apparently to intimidate us by his ferocious appearance.

According to his own words, he had been living in retirement for several years at Lhasa,

when the most lofty Government of the Holy Protector, fearing a Chinese advance from

Kansu, appointed him, the faithful servant and diplomat of the Government, possessing

detailed knowledge of "eight great countries," to the Governorship of

Nag-chu-ka. Notwithstanding his being married, the Dalai Lama himself conferred upon him

the rank of *tse-drung*, given usually only to celibate monks.

His colleague, the Civil Governor or *nang-so*, was no less distinguished in the

government service. He was an elderly gentleman, wrinkled in the service of his

Government. He appeared before us attired in a dress of Chinese yellow brocade, and a

Manchu hat. His name was Gong-kar, and his son had studied military science in India

with a Gurkha battalion. The Governor spent most of his life in different

*dzong-khas* or provincial districts in Tibet. When Tibet was fighting the

Chinese, he mobilized troops in Nam-ru. In 1918 he was attached to the Teichman Mission

in Kham, and saw some service under the Kalön Lama, the Tibetan Commander in Chief

during the Sino-Tibetan war of 1917-18. Before his coming to Nag-chu, he had been

*dzong-pön* or governor in Kong-po, where he had met Colonel Bailey and Captain

Morshead. From this list of their distinctions we could be sure that we had to do with

experienced diplomats, fully trusted by their Government.

On learning of the objects of the expedition, the *khan-po* exclaimed that he was

very pleased to hear all this, but since Tibet is a religious country, unconcerned with

affairs of the outside world, the Government of the country does not permit foreigners

to visit Tibet proper. We pointed out to him that they had admitted foreigners in 1904

and that there was a British detachment stationed at Gyangste. The Governor only smiled

and assured us that all British subjects had been driven away from Gyangste, and that he

never heard of British troops in that place. We asked him for permission to send a wire

from Lhasa to Sikkim, but the Governor insisted that there was no wire communication

between Lhasa and India. "When Minister Bell negotiated the treaty, there was a

need of telegraphic communication, but now since the treaty has been concluded, the

telegraphic line has been broken down. The British did not keep their promises and did

not teach the Tibetans how to make gunpowder."

The Governor further informed us that his government does not permit British, Russian,

Chinese, and Japanese subjects to enter Tibet proper, that is the Ü and Tsang Provinces,

and although there is no such provision against Americans in existing treaties, to which

Tibet was a signatory power, they could not allow us to proceed because the British,

Russians, and Japanese would take advantage of this precedent and penetrate into the

country. The Joint-Governors told us that the usual way of dealing with foreign subjects

arriving at the Nag-chu border was to send them back either to Sining or to Ladak, but

in our case the authorities were ready to consider our demand to let us cross Tibet to

India. The *khan-po* added that according to instructions received from Lhasa, he

and his colleague would give us caravan animals to replace ours, and supplies as far as

the frontier of India.

In replying we informed the Joint-Governors, that treaty provisions could not be applied

to us in any case, as we were no intruders and were in possession of an official

passport delivered to us by the Tibetan representative in Mongolia. We insisted that we

be allowed to visit Gyangste, in order to confer with the British Trade Agent stationed

there, and mentioned that many foreign subjects had lately visited the Tibetan capital,

especially General Pereira, who crossed Tibet in 1922 to India. The Joint-Governors

declared all this to be lies, for according to them no such person as General Pereira

ever existed! They again and again referred to the general rule, that foreigners were

not allowed to enter inner Tibet (Pö-nang) but were free to travel in outer Tibet

(Pö-chyi) comprising all the provinces east of Chamdo, and the Province of Thö-nga-ri

kor-sum in the west. We continued to insist that we be allowed to cross to India by the

shortest route, if necessary avoiding Lhasa, Shigatse and Gyangste. The Tibetans asked

us to show them our proposed route on the map. We proposed the route across the Dam La

Pass, which crosses the territory of inner Tibet between Lhasa and Shigatse, and then

joins the Treaty Trade Route Lhasa-India at Phari dzong.

This route had the great advantage of being much shorter than any of the circuit routes,

only some twenty days by pack to Phari dzong and it crossed rural districts of Tibet,

where supplies could be easily obtained. We again reminded the Joint-Governors that we

were no intruders, and possessed passports granted by the Tibetan representative in

Mongolia. "Why do you pay so much attention to a piece of writing given by this

miserable beggar?" exclaimed the *khan-po*. He was losing his temper and the

servants standing by impudently laughed into the sleeves of their fur coats. We

continued to insist on our point and advised the *khan-po* that if the Tibetan

Government did not recognize its official representative in Urga, it should immediately

notify the Chinese and Mongolian Governments of the fact. The Governors rose in tumult

and declared that they had to go and draft a new letter to Lhasa about us. We

accompanied the Governors outside the tent, and they at once retired to their camp.

Clouds gathered toward evening, indicating a probable change in atmospheric conditions.

Snow fell during the night and a strong southwest wind violently shook our tents. The

day was miserable and the gale continued till about midnight. The Governors came again

to see us. We could not be allowed to proceed by the Dam La past Gyangste, but their

government was ready to arrange for our passage to Sikkim via Nam-ru, Nag-tshang and

Saga dzong. The whole journey would take only one month, for Saga dzong is only six days

from the Sikkim frontier! Poor Governors, did they try to deceive us, or was their

knowledge of their own country so deficient? Nothing was to be done and we had to agree

but asked that we should be allowed to cross the Trans-Himalayas into the Tsang Province

south of Nag-tshang. The Joint-Governors promised to transmit our request to the

Government. The *khan-po* asked us to come and visit him, as he would like to

have the list of supplies required by the expedition on its way to India. Three men

would start at once for Lhasa to buy them.

At five o'clock in the afternoon we paid a return visit to the *khan-po*. The

Governor had his temporary headquarters in an ordinary *ba-nag* or black nomad

tent. We found him squatting on a low seat near the fireplace. The tent pole in front of

him was literally covered with firearms—several Russian cavalry rifles and German Mauser

automatic pistols, rendered harmless by excessive silver ornamentation. We again tried

to persuade the Governor to send our wires to Lhasa for further transmission to New York

and to Colonel Bailey, British Political Officer in Sikkim. The Governor again refused

to send the wires as the line between Lhasa and Gyangste had recently been damaged and

all British troops withdrawn from Gyangste and Chumbi Valley, which was now under full

Tibetan control. We told the Governor that we were rather surprised at this change in

the attitude of the Tibetan Government toward the British and asked him to explain the

situation. The answer was quite unexpected. The Governor accused the British of

introducing Bolshevism into the Tibetan army!

Having settled the question of supplies, we returned to camp. The wind was howling,

driving sand and wet snow into our faces. Next morning the Governors left for Nag-chu

and we began our preparations for departure. We were now allowed to proceed to Nag-chu

stayed in our tents until ten o'clock in the morning and started when the sun had

sufficiently warmed the atmosphere. Even the cognac in the doctor's flask was

frozen.

monastery, a towering dark mass, was clearly visible in the violet mist of the winter

morning. After an hour's march, we reached the place. The *do-nyers* of the

*dzong* were waiting outside the town and ushered us to a half-ruined structure,

the best and most spacious in Nag-chu, excepting the monastery and the Governor's

house. The house had six damp rooms. The windows had Chinese paper spanned on the frames

and the walls were covered with cheap, red cloth. The ceiling was thickly covered with

tar that continuously dripped, leaving dark stains on our clothes and belongings. The

Colonel was so disgusted with the new quarters that he preferred to stay in his tent,

which was pitched in the courtyard. There were no stoves in the rooms, but we were

promised some in a few days. We hoisted the American flag on the gate, and crowds

gathered every evening to see the flag lowered for the night.

The district of Nag-chu or Nag-chu-ka, named after the river Nag, which flows out of the

Amdo tsho-nak Lake some fifty miles northwest, is a vast stretch of land with an average

elevation of fifteen thousand feet, stretching north of the Shang-shung Pass in the

Nyen-chen Thang La Range. To the west the district borders upon a narrow patch of

country called Chö-khor, which is the property of the Sera Monastery in Lhasa. On the

southwest it borders on the district of Dam which belongs to the Tsang Province. Toward

the northwest it stretches far into the region of Amdo tsho-nak, and borders on Nam-ru.

To the north the district stretches as far as the Ta-sang Pass, then comes a narrow

strip of country from the Ta-sang Pass to the Kam-rong Pass (the high elevated valley of

Chu-na-khe and the surrounding hills), which is administered by the High Commissioner of

Hor. The Sheng-di Valley, north of the Kam-rong Pass, and the country north of Sheng-di,

as far as the river Chu-mar or Napchitu ulan-müren on the Tibetan upland is again a part

of the Nag-chu district. Such districts, in which one part is separated from another by

strips of land belonging to a third district, are a characteristic feature of Tibetan

local administration and one of the greatest handicaps to travelers who have to change

their transport on the way.

The Nag-chu *dzong* is situated some one hundred and fifty miles north of Lhasa

on the river Nag in a broad valley surrounded by low hills. Yak caravans reach Lhasa in

fourteen days and mounted messengers cover the distance in four or five days. In winter,

when the passes are covered with snow, eight days are required. The whole of the

district is controlled by the Dre-pung Monastery of Lhasa, and is governed by a lama

official with the rank of a *tse-drung*, who is always a nominee of the

monastery. The lama official is titled *khan-po*, and is considered the nominal

abbot of the Shab-den Monastery at Nag-chu. The Government appoints a civil official or

*nang-so*, who looks after the interests of the Government and helps the lama

official administer the district. The place itself is a motley collection of about

eighty houses of the usual Sino-Tibetan architecture. The French Lazarist fathers, M.

Huc and M. Gabet, who visited the place in 1845, gave an accurate description of it. It

has changed little since that time. In the center is situated the Shab-den Monastery

having nominally three thousand inmates; actually only one hundred and eighty reside

there. This is the usual story with Tibetan monasteries—each one has a register in which

the names of all the monks are recorded, but the number of lamas registered never

corresponds to the actual number of resident monks. The monastery consists of a prayer

hall or *du-khang*, on the second floor of which are rooms reserved for the

private use of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and His Holiness the Tashi Lama, a temple

(*lha-khang*) with a big statue of Maitreya Buddha, the two-storied house of the

Head Lama of the monastery and several other houses round the principal courtyard,

containing accommodations for the lamas. Outside there is a temple consecrated to the

Religious Protector of the district. The lama official or Nag-chu *khan-po* lives

in the monastery, occupying a two-storied yellow building with a small courtyard in

front of it where criminals are usually executed. To the northwest of the monastery on

the other bank of the Nag River is a small nunnery and several other houses which are

said to be hermitages belonging to the Shab-den Monastery. There are several shops in

Nag-chu owned by Lhasan merchants, which trade in cheap English, German, and Japanese

goods. The merchants get local products in exchange, mostly wool, which is afterward

sent to Lhasa and farther to Chumbi and India.

Nag-chu is the first big settlement on the great northern highway, and journey-stained

travelers from the north, Mongols, Amdo-was, Goloks, and Panags from the Koko-nor

usually crowd the shops on arrival. During our stay there were very few arrivals from

Sining and the Golok territory, and almost none from Mongolia and distant Siberia, and

the trade in Nag-chu suffered badly. The snows had blocked the passes to Lhasa and

stopped all caravan communication with the capital. The prices were unusually high and

the nomad population, impoverished by the loss of cattle and general famine, was unable

to keep up trade.

We were told that the unusual snowfall on the Shang-shung Pass and the highlands round

Nag-chu-ka had upset all trade, and that most of the customs officials and big merchants

had left for Lhasa. It is true that during January and February, we saw no caravans

coming to Nag-chu, except some tea caravans encamped north of the Ta-sang Pass and

unable to proceed farther to Nag-chu, having lost most of their pack animals. Only in

March when the snows on the Shang-shung Pass had sufficiently melted, did we see

caravans of yaks with barley and *tsam-pa* come from Lhasa. A caravan with food

supplies for the expedition sent from Lhasa crossed the Shang-shung Pass only with the

greatest difficulty, losing many of its animals and covering a two days' distance in

six days!

The trade in Nag-chu usually consists of brick tea brought in from Tachienlu through

Bathang and Chamdo and from Sung-pan t'ing and Sining in Kansu. Chinese silks,

Mongol felts and "bulgar" boots are highly valued. The Tibetans offer furs of

rather inferior quality, wool, and cheap European goods brought *via* India. The

amount of local productions, such as *puru*, sold on the market is insignificant.

In recent years a European firm from Tientsin sent an agent to Nag-chu to study the

Tibetan fur market, but the results of the inquiry were disappointing. Since a recent

edict of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, no hunting is allowed in the district, and the

number of furs offered is small. One would expect the big game to increase in number

since the issue of the edict, but in reality it is rapidly diminishing south of Thang

La.

Nag-chu is situated at the crossing of several big caravan routes. The first is the

great northern route, Mongolia-Tsaidam-Lhasa; the second, China-Sining-Nag-chu-Lhasa;

the third, Sung-pan t'ing-Jyekundo-Nag-chu-Lhasa; the fourth,

Tachienlu-Chamdo-Nag-chu-Lhasa; the fifth, Ladak-Nga-ri-Nag-tshang-Nam-ru-Nag-chu-Lhasa.

Nag-chu is considered to be one of the most important custom outposts in Tibet, and all

caravans coming from the north and northeast are stopped, pending a favorable reply from

Lhasa.

For the past three years, the Tibetan Government, apprehending an advance by the Chinese

from the Kansu border, established several outposts along the northern route. Travelers

are now detained for a few days at Sheng-di, south of the Thang La. The Tibetan outposts

pushed even farther north, at present occupying the line along the southern bank of the

Chumar River. In 1926 Tibetan soldiers were reported at Neiji, south of Tsaidam, but

were soon recalled.

These frontier guards consist of local militia or *sa-srung mag-mi* with no

uniforms to distinguish them from the local population. The militia is mobilized from

the nomads of Nag-chu-ka, and outposts are changed twice or three times a year. An

outpost usually consists of five or ten men under a *chu-pön* or corporal. They

are armed with matchlocks, the usual Tibetan swords and spears. Some carry Russian

service rifles and we have been surprised to see in their possession some Russian

infantry rifles, made by the Remington Armory in the United States at the close of the

Great War. Certainly these outposts are no military protection for the country, and the

Government of Tibet is well aware of it. The district of Nag-chu is supposed to mobilize

one thousand mounted militia under a *tong-pön*, and yearly meetings are held at

Nag-chu in August, at which the Governors, with no knowledge whatever of modern warfare,

inspect the prowess and efficiency of their troops. At this meeting the militia is

supposed to show its efficiency in firing a rifle on foot and in galloping a horse, the

last maneuver usually ending in the rider being thrown from his horse. The timid Hor-pas

are considered to be the fiercest soldiers in Tibet, but one can be quite certain that

all these braves in case of serious fighting will make a desperate rush for home. The

tightening of customs formalities, and the virtual closing of the northern frontier,

resulting from the present policy of complete isolation, will be a heavy blow to Nag-chu

and its trade.

The Tibetans greatly pride themselves on Nag-chu and in official correspondence the

place bears the grand name of "the lofty snow-palace of Nag-chu" although

there is no building there or in the neighborhood that could be called a palace. The

Governor's residence is certainly not palatial!

The sanitary conditions of the place are awful. One sees everywhere carcasses of dead

horses and yaks. Heaps of refuse, and hundreds of vagabond dogs are among the adornments

of the town. Happily the river was still frozen and we thanked the fate that made us

visit Nag-chu in winter. The smells of the place in summer must be very trying.

Conversing with one of the custom officials of the *dzong*, I mentioned the dirt

that permeates the place. "What would you say of Lhasa," exclaimed the man.

"Here in Nag-chu we have a pure stream flowing from the Amdo tsho-nak, but in Lhasa

you have to drink water from a river, which receives enormous quantities of refuse every

day. Thanks only to the protection of the Exalted One, the city is seldom attacked by

diseases."

We tried to arrange more comfortably the house in which we had to stay awaiting a final

reply from Lhasa. In some of the stores we succeeded in finding iron stoves from India,

but the price was exorbitant—seventy dollars for one stove!

The health of our Colonel was not improving and he did not leave his tent. There was

nothing to break the monotony of bleak winter days. In the mornings bitter frost, in the

afternoons strong southwest winds, driving clouds of dust over the town. Arrivals were

few, as it took fourteen days for a rider to reach Lhasa. Some of us were compiling

diaries, others tried to warm themselves by walking up and down the courtyard.

The Joint-Governors were drafting a fresh report to the Government, and on several

occasions asked Professor Roerich and me to come to see them. They took great pains to

impress upon us that the expedition had been detained by the High Commissioner of Hor

and that the Government or *De-wa-shung* of Tibet never gave orders to detain us.

According to Tibetan laws, no military official (*drag-pöi pön-po*) is allowed to

negotiate with foreigners, this being the duty of the civil authorities (*shi-wai pön-po*). We pointed out to the Governors that according to our custom, the Government is held

responsible for the actions of its officials, and as, according to their words, the

Government of Tibet did not issue orders to detain us, we considered ourselves free to

proceed southward, and asked the Joint-Governors to supply us with transport to replace

our dead caravan animals. This statement greatly confused the Governors. One of them

even left the room, probably to regain his countenance.

On the fourth day of our arrival at Nag-chu, I paid a visit to the Civil Governor or

*nang-so*. The old squire lived in an ordinary Tibetan house with two courtyards,

his quarters being much inferior to those of his colleague. He told me that he expected

an answer from the Government soon, for he "always got favorable answers from

Lhasa." The Governor told me most amusing stories of his war experiences in Kham

under the Kalön Lama. He complained that European maps of Tibet were very deficient and

that the Tibetan Staff had a very hard time planning their campaign. I asked him what

kind of maps they used and imagine my stupefaction when the Governor told me that they

used a general map of the world and a globe! I tried to explain to him that these maps

were quite useless for military purposes and that it is no wonder that they could not

recognize the region of their operations on these maps, their scale being too small. The

Civil Governor continued to insist that the globe was a very useful thing, as it

represented the whole of Jambuling. He also told me that Eric Treichman, British

Consular Officer at Tachienlu, carried two small artillery guns in his saddle-bags when

traveling in Kham!

According to the Governor, all Europeans had a pernicious custom of taking notes while

riding horseback and in this way they got all sorts of useful information about the

country.

The days were becoming somewhat warmer, although the nights were still very cold. We

often had a temperature up to +32°C. in the sun on midday and -20°C. at night. The snow

on the Shang-shung Pass was beginning to melt and a few traders succeeded in reaching

Nag-chu. They reported that many caravans were waiting for passage at Pondu dzong on the

southern side of the pass. We asked the *khan-po* for permission to visit the

Shab-den Monastery, a brief description of which was given above. The Governor told us

that he would have to consider our request, for the monks in Tibet were unruly and could

easily do some harm to foreigners. The permission was granted, however, in a few days,

and accompanied by *do-nyers* from the *dzong*, we paid a visit to the

Monastery. The lamas proved to be peaceful and we gave some presents to them.

The next day, the Governor informed me that I should have to come to see him, and that

the Civil Governor and the Major would also be present, as some important questions were

to be discussed. A letter had been received from Lhasa and the Governor read extracts

from it. The Government was in receipt of the Joint-Governors' report drafted in

Sharugön and desired to have more details about our proposed trip. The Government

professed to have no knowledge whatever of our detention and desired to inform us that

the letter addressed by the High Commissioner of Hor was lost on the way and that the

soldier who carried the letter never reached Lhasa. I asked the Major whether the

soldier returned to the High Commissioner, but he professed to know nothing about it and

apparently found nothing wrong in the fact that official messengers from his superior

officer had been intercepted somewhere on the way. The Joint-Governors decided to send a

new letter about us, giving all necessary details, and the Civil Governor at once busied

himself with the preparation of the draft. Meanwhile, the *khan-po*, being in a

talkative mood, proceeded to tell stories about recent happenings in the world. Everyone

listened eagerly to his words, and even the Civil Governor stopped his work.

The *khan-po* told us that formerly the religion of Russia had been somewhat

similar to the religion of Tibet, but since the victory of the Reds, there was no

religion in Russia. Present-day Russia was ruled by a man who killed the Tsagan-bator

Khan with a revolver. Pictures of this man were to be seen everywhere and his name was

Nenin. This man on committing the deed, climbed a high tree and proclaimed from the top

of it that Tsagan-bator Khan was no more, and that the religions of Yisu (Jesus) and

Buddha had been destroyed. But, unfortunately for him, a woman possessing the knowledge

of Red and White customs, who was formerly the wife of a big official under the

Tsagan-bator Khan, was still alive, and resolved to revenge the death of the great Khan.

She approached the man ruling Russia and shot him dead, after which she committed

suicide! That is the story of the Russian Revolution according to Lhasa.

According to the *khan-po*, the Emperor of China was a lay disciple of the Dalai

Lama, and his empire a dependency of Tibet. He was very sorry about the present change

of government in China, for the country lost the unique opportunity to profit from the

advices of the All-knowing Presence. Indeed, the Chinese rebelled against Tibet in 1911

and multitudes of their warriors appeared in Lhasa, but the Inner Protector by his

incomparable power of discrimination and the bravery of his countless troops, punished

the insolent Chinamen. Formerly the Mongols were subjects or *mi-ser* of the

Lhasan Government, but lately they had tried to shake off the authority of His Holiness

and abolished the incarnation of Je-tsün tam-pa, who had been Tibet's Vice-Regent in

Mongolia. After this enlightening conversation with the Governor I received the

impression that Tibet was rapidly losing its place of "paramount" power in

Asia!

The *khan-po* explained to his audience that Dr. Filchner or

*Philik-ner* in Tibetan, had in his possession a wonderful mirror in which all

the country round Lhasa could be seen, as if on the palm of one's hand. He

maintained that such mirrors were manufactured only in Germany and was eager to buy such

a wonder for the Tibetan Government, in order to enable the Tibetan officials to watch

the situation in neighboring countries without the necessity of visiting them. I had to

agree that such an invention would be very useful to Tibet, since the country was

determined to remain isolated.

On taking my leave from the Governor, he told me that it was very foolish of us to

present the Monastery with ninety-five *ngü-sangs*. The monks were robbers and

would never acknowledge the receipt of the sum. If we wished to honor the Holy Images we

should hand over the sum to him and he would issue orders that offering lamps should be

lighted before the images. In the future, he asked me always to take his advice on such

matters.

On the next day, I went to see the Civil Governor to discuss with him our future route.

I pointed out that Saga dzong was too much out of the way and that the health of some of

the members of the expedition had been severely tried during the detention at

Chu-na-khe. The Governor assured me that he would try his best to allow the expedition

to proceed from Shentsa dzong to Chang Lhartse on the Yaru tsang-po.

In the afternoon a Tibetan brought me a manuscript copy of the Kesar (*Kesar-gyi drung*), and a sword said to come from the famous Palace of Kesar. The Palace of Kesar or

Kesar pho-tang as it is called in Tibetan, is situated in the neighborhood of Jyekundo.

The beams of the ceiling in the temple are made of swords, which are highly valued by

the Kham-pas. During the Chinese War, many of these swords were stolen by soldiers.

On February 7, the *nyer-wa* or treasurer of the *dzong* paid us a visit

and informed us that the government reply or *ka-len* had been received. In the

afternoon we were asked to visit the *khan-po* who officially informed us that

the Government of Tibet agreed to allow us to proceed to Sikkim and that they would

arrange the caravan for the expedition as soon as the snow had melted sufficiently, as

at present there were no pasture grounds for horses and yaks on the way. Professor

Roerich insisted that we should be allowed to start at once, as the expedition was short

of funds. The *khan-po* promised to send notice to all the headmen of the Nag-chu

district. The Governor added that the Government had expressed its displeasure at the

news that all our caravan animals had died and that a government inquiry was expected.

The messenger who carried the government reply, brought the news that the caravan with

supplies for the expedition had reached the Shang-shung Pass. On the following days we

tried to get some information about routes to Sikkim. The *khan-po* professed

complete ignorance of the route. He said that Saga dzong was situated almost on the

frontier of Sikkim and it would take thirty days to reach the frontier of India! Local

traders, who usually possessed a far better knowledge of their own country than

officials, told us it would take us some hundred days to get to the frontier and their

statements were fully corroborated by the evidence supplied by our maps. But it was

hopeless to argue any more with the Joint-Governors.

In a few days the headmen returned to Nag-chu and reported that the local population had

lost most of its cattle and transport animals, and those of the animals which were still

alive were so weak that they were unable to make the long journey to Nam-ru. The headmen

presented a ceremonial scarf to the Governor and begged him to free them from the

necessity of supplying caravan animals to the expedition. They even went so far as to

point out that the expedition had been detained by the High Commissioner of Hor, and

that it was his duty to supply us with means of transport. The Joint-Governors, seeing

the firm stand of the peasants, decided to make them supply only half of the animals

needed, the other half to be supplied by the headmen of the Hor-pas. The Major suggested

that a soldier be sent to Tse-mar to collect yaks. The authorities promised to arrange

everything for our early departure. The coming New Year festivities would necessarily

cause some delay, but March 1 was fixed as the date of our departure.

The preparations for the *lo-sar* or the New Year were in full swing. Enormous

amounts of *chang*, the country wine, were prepared in every house. Most of the

officials were on holiday and under the strong influence of *chang*. The local

headmen refused to furnish argal to our lamas, who were going on a pilgrimage to Lhasa.

They insisted that pilgrims from Mongolia should pay them. Some caravans on yaks were

beginning to come from Lhasa. We were surprised to see the small size of the local yaks

in comparison to the fine animals seen on the Kirghiz pasture lands of Chinese

Turkestan.

In the evenings heavy clouds of argal smoke poisoned the atmosphere. The refuse heaps in

the streets were growing larger, for the population was busily occupied preparing the

New Year feasts. How happy we all would be to begin the long-expected journey to Sikkim,

and to approach the mighty Himalayas!

On February 16 the much-delayed caravan of supplies arrived and the Joint-Governors,

accompanied by all the officials of the *dzong*, came to the expedition

headquarters. We got supplies for the sum of seven hundred and seventy

*ngü-sangs*. Bad flour, some *tsam-pa*, Chinese conserves in tin, very bad

sugar, Chinese vermicelli, frozen turnips, and frozen tangerines. After the long diet of

*tsam-pa* and mutton, all these things seemed to be extraordinary delicacies. We

were also glad to get fifteen bags of food for our poor riding horses.

On the evening of the next day, I visited the *khan-po*, and had a long talk

about the arrangements for our future caravan. The Government agreed to let us pay the

whole sum due for the caravan through the British authorities in Sikkim. I tried to

obtain some information about the country we were to cross. According to the

*khan-po*, we should have to travel some six days over territory belonging to the

Nag-chu district. Nag-chu had a population of twelve thousand, chiefly engaged in

breeding yaks. The district of Nam-ru was much less populated, having only about one

thousand families. This district breeds sheep. The neighboring district of Nag-tshang

was known to produce very good cattle and its population consists of some ten thousand

inhabitants. The Governor was apprehending an advance by the troops of Feng Yu-hsiang

from Kansu and had been trying to secure help from the Tungan Governor of Sining.

Next day (February 20), we witnessed the ceremony of burning the *torma* or

offerings to the spirits of the place, performed before the New Year. The first ceremony

took place at the house of the *khan-po*. We were invited and allowed to take

photographs of the procession. At the head, two lamas carried the *torma*. They

were followed by the chief lama, dressed in a red mantle and having the

*sha-ser* or yellow hat of his sect on his head. He was followed by a number of

lamas, all carrying objects used in the ceremonies. The lamas were followed by lama

musicians carrying drums and long trumpets called *dung-chen* and Tibetan

hautboys. The dead sound of the drums accompanied the procession, which was escorted by

a troop of local headmen in brightly colored dresses with green and red turbans on their

heads. They all carried swords, and matchlocks with smoking wicks. The procession slowly

moved to the street in front of the Governor's house. The *torma*, after a

short service, accompanied by the clamor of tambourines, was precipitated into a great

fire laid out on the pavement. The headmen fired their guns into the fire and with loud

outcry brandished their swords. After the ceremony, a wild scene followed—beggars and

prisoners with shackles on their legs precipitated themselves into the fire and tore

from each other in a wild fight portions of the burning *tormas*. Possessors of

such pieces of *torma* are said to be immune from bullets.

After the ceremony, we all paid a visit to the *khan-po*. The Joint-Governors

were seated on high seats near the wall, attired in garments of Chinese brocade. They

offered us some rice and Tibetan tea. According to the New Year etiquette common to

Chinese and Tibetans, everyone should be merry and no serious conversations are held.

The Governor chose our Colonel as the object of his jokes and called him his "dear

beloved brother," insisting that the Colonel should present him with his watch. It

would be too tedious to repeat here all the Governor's jokes. The poor Colonel

became very tired of all this merrymaking. The festivities at the house of the

*khan-po* were followed by a similar ceremony at the residence of the Civil

Governor, only everything was on a smaller scale.

In the afternoon a big ceremony took place in the monastery. A long procession of monks

moved across the monastery courtyard preceded by the lama provost or Gekö Lama. The big

trumpets or *dung-chen* were placed on the roof of the *du-khang* and from

there filled the air with their deep, ringing sound. The *torma* was burned on

the chief square of Nag-chu. Merrymaking and occasional firing continued until late in

the evening.

February 22, 1928. Today was the Tibetan New Year. The *khan-po* held a reception

in the afternoon and everybody was invited to attend; a very tiresome function, with tea

drinking and endless New Year compliments. Later in the afternoon an exceptional quiet

pervaded the city. I inquired the reason and was told that all the good citizens of

Nag-chu were hopelessly drunk, and were slumbering after the day's exertions. Toward

evening beggars went round the place singing New Year songs. The next day the Governors

would proceed in a procession to the top of a nearby hill and lay the foundation of a

new *obo*—a rite performed every year at Nag-chu-ka. With this ceremony the local

New Year's festivities would end and everyone would resume routine work, although

the officials and the richer people would continue to enjoy themselves for a whole

month.

Our preparations for departure were well advanced. All the *yaghtans* had been

carefully roped and put in the courtyard of the headquarters so as to prevent breakage

by yaks. Horses were shod for the long journey and received an extra pound of food

daily. The Civil Governor, in return for our presents, presented us with a young Kong-po

wolfhound by the name of Kadru. These Kong-po dogs are greatly valued in Tibet, although

their manners are not always pleasant. When young they are very troublesome and will

attack sheep and poultry. Usually two varieties of dogs are found, a big one of slender

build with well-developed legs, and very fast, and a second variety of a heavier build.

The latter reminds one of the Finnish dogs employed in hunting squirrels.

On February 26, two soldiers of the Major came to inform us that the yaks were due that

day and that the Major himself would leave Nag-chu the following day. In the afternoon

the Major appeared and spoke of his intention to leave Nag-chu. He was drunk as usual

and this made him a little more outspoken. He revealed to us that just before our

arrival at Chu-na-khe, the Civil Governor had visited the High Commissioner of Hor, and

settled with him the question of our going direct to Nag-chu. According to the Major, it

was decided to let us visit Nag-chu at once, but then the Civil Governor returned to

Nag-chu and had a conference with the *khan-po*, the result being that he

subsequently pretended to know nothing of our coming. What the reason was for such a

change of attitude the Major could not tell us. According to him, such actions could

have been necessitated by supplementary orders received from Lhasa.

Professor Roerich asked the Major to stay in Nag-chu until the arrival of all the

animals. The Major was apparently much displeased with this, but pretended to agree. In

the afternoon the Joint-Governors unexpectedly invited us to visit them. They declared

that according to their information, the yaks would not reach the place that day and

that it was absolutely necessary to make the Major stay in Nag-chu until the arrival of

all the caravan animals. The Governors themselves were unable to induce the Major to

stay longer and hoped that we should be able to do so. One of the *do-nyers* was

sent to bring him. We had to witness an unpleasant scene, the Major and the Civil

Governor quarreling and abusing each other. The *khan-po* took an evident

pleasure in the dispute and laughed when the Major told the Civil Governor what he

thought of him. We informed the Joint-Governors that unless all the yaks reached Nag-chu

in a few days, we should be obliged to start at once southward by the shortest route and

asked them to furnish us with yaks or coolies to transport our baggage to Pondu dzong,

south of the Shang-shung Pass. The threat made the Major promise that he would not leave

before the arrival of all the caravan animals. As expected the yaks did not arrive on

the appointed day although the local officials and headmen assured us that the caravan

animals would reach Nag-chu in the evening or during the night.

On the afternoon of the next day, the Joint-Governors again asked me to come to see

them. A letter had been received from Lhasa, in which it was stated that the Government

intended to start an inquiry about our detention and the peril of our caravan. The

*khan-po* informed me that the High Commissioner of Hor had reported to the

Government that we came to Chu-na-khe by ourselves and that he never invited us to come.

It was clear that the Tibetan General was trying to shift the responsibility on someone

else and that the Joint-Governors were in no way ready to take all responsibility upon

themselves.

During the night light snow covered the ground, but soon melted away. In the morning, I

went again to see the *khan-po* and told him that unless the yaks came the next

day, we should be obliged to start across the Dam La. The Governor replied that he had

no power to allow us to go by this route but that at the same time he had no means to

forbid us to do so. We could go, if we liked, but he could not furnish us pack animals,

and we should have to hire animals from private people. He advised me to go alone, for

in that case he would give me some assistance on the way to Lhasa. I told him that we

would leave some of our baggage behind and would start with a few pack mules, for the

expedition could not be divided.

In the afternoon we invited the Major and told him firmly that unless his yaks arrived

the next day, we should at once start for Lhasa and he would have to accompany us, for

he was in some measure responsible for our detention. He replied that he could not

produce yaks from his pocket, and that we, being at present at Nag-chu, should ask the

Joint-Governors about the caravan animals. As to his responsibility for our detention,

he had to say that all the wrong was done by his superior officers and that he himself

had no reason to detain us for such a long time. He reminded us that he himself suffered

badly during this detention and that his wife had died.

The yaks did not arrive and new arrivals from Tse-mar reported that they had heard

nothing about them. All this was very disquieting. Professor Roerich, accompanied by the

Colonel and myself, visited the Joint-Governors in the afternoon. The Major was also

present and behaved in a most insolent manner. He abused everyone. He told us that the

High Commissioner never invited us and that the non-commissioned officer or

*she-ngo* who came to inspect our baggage at Sheng-di never existed and that he,

the Major, had no knowledge of his coming to our camp. Such a flagrant lie was too much

even for Tibetans, for the *do-nyer* of the *dzong*, who visited our camp

at Sheng-di, suddenly stepped out and certified that he returned to Chu-na-khe from

Sheng-di in company with the non-commissioned officer, and that both of them made

reports on the matter to the High Commissioner, Kusho Kapshöpa. On being caught in his

lie the Major suddenly remembered the man, but according to him, the petty officer,

having committed some offense, fled from the General's camp and on his way visited

our camp in order to buy some horses or mules from us. I told him that we were not here

to listen to silly stories and that our object was to know definitely when the caravan

animals from Tse-mar would arrive. Whether the non-commissioned officer received orders

to inspect our baggage, or whether he did it of his own accord, were questions of little

importance to us. Our baggage had been examined by an officer wearing the uniform of the

Tibetan army and carrying official orders from his superior officer. These facts nobody

could deny. We added that we should be obliged to report everything to America and that

Tibet would have to explain its behavior toward the expedition. The *khan-po*,

seeing that we were in earnest, decided to compromise, and promised to arrange our

departure not later than March 6. He gave us a letter with his seal, in which it was

said that he would take upon himself all the arrangements. We agreed to this. The Civil

Governor left the room to speak to the headmen assembled in the courtyard outside the

Governor's residence.

In the absence of the Civil Governor, the *khan-po* and the Major blamed him for

everything. It was he who settled the matter with the High Commissioner. The doctor of

the expedition handed to the Governor a medical certificate signed by him, stating that

the condition of some of the members was serious and that unless we were allowed to

proceed to India, at once, all further detention would be considered as an organized

attempt on the life of the members of the expedition. The *khan-po* asked me to

translate the document, as the certificate had been written in English, and on learning

its wording, he flatly refused either to send it to Lhasa, or to keep it. It was the

High Commissioner who detained us and all such certificates should be addressed to him.

He advised the Major to forward the certificate to the General and handed him the

envelope with the document, but the Major dropped it on the low table in front of him

and also refused to accept it.

The *khan-po* informed us that our letter to the Government asking permission to

get some medicines from Gyangste had been transmitted, but no reply had been received.

Health is not taken into consideration in Tibet—such was the statement made by the

*khan-po*.

We asked the *khan-po* when he expected to receive our passports from Lhasa. He

answered that we should not be worried as it took a very long time to get a document

from Lhasa, especially when His Holiness' own approval was necessary. The matter

must first be presented to the State Council or *Ka-sha*, then to the National

Assembly or *Tshong-du*, then to the *Yik-tshang* or the Ministry of

Court. From the *Yik-tshang* the matter is brought before the Dalai Lama, who

decides all questions of international importance. In case our passport should not

arrive in time, we should be allowed to proceed with a temporary passport issued by the

Joint-Governors of Nag-chu and the Lhasan passport would be sent to Nam-ru or Shentsa.

It was getting very late and we took leave of the *khan-po*. Wet snow was

drifting and the city was plunged into mist.

On March 2, the Joint-Governors received information that all caravan animals would

arrive the following day or on March 4. As no passport had been received from Lhasa, we

had to pay the hire of animals as far as Nam-ru. The hire of a horse to Nam-ru was seven

*ngü-sangs*; that of a yak three *ngü-sangs*. The whole day was occupied

settling accounts with the *nyer-wa* of the *dzong* for horse feed. For

one bag of grain we had to pay thirteen *ngü-sangs*.

Next morning we woke up very early. A crowd of headmen and yak drivers filled the

courtyard. Yaks were tied to ropes outside the house gate. The day was spent in a

terrific hustle. Cries, beatings, and general confusion continued until sunset. Tibetan

soldiers and we, ourselves, tried in vain to restore some order. The baggage having been

distributed among Hor-pas and Chang-ri-was, guards were stationed near it as the Hor-pas

and the Chang-ri-was were full of mutual distrust.