If you are intrigued by the use of The Tibetan Book of the Dead in Tibetan funerals, these drawings are well worth examining.  What they may lack in artistic refinement they make up for in illustrative value. They open a window on actual practice, so much so that it doesn’t matter too much if we find the windowpanes are not fully transparent.

There are a few more-or-less contemporary examples of British and Europeans commissioning Tibetan artists to depict Tibetan life and culture.  We have the Hummel essay with its illustrations of medieval tortures, as well as the Wise Collection, both excellent examples. There is a reason why the three sets so easily compare to each other, you know.

A critical person might think these rather crudely drafted artworks* are of interest to us only as products of colonialism, meant to (somehow) further colonial interests. My point in bringing attention to them is different. While admitting the conditions of their production, there is a lot more to say. That is, if we could only overcome some of the obstacles to understanding them. These obstacles involve recognizing the problems in communication between the Lhasa Tibetan traveler and the lonely official in a British colonial outpost both of them far from home and each in his own way out of his element. Like all communications, there is an ongoing reassessment of what the conversation partner might be willing and capable of understanding. And this goes three ways. It isn't just the ‘conversation’ between the two of them, the monk artist and the colonial officer, but between them and the one responsible for presenting it to us readers, Charles Horne. This three-way dynamic creates a continuous drag on all our efforts to understand the drawings. I believe I can see this problem, but have no way of imagining how I could ever overcome it and deliver the all-rounded truth, the bigger picture. Well, we can try and go some of the distance and call it a day.

(*The charm of its folkish art is in its relatively direct honesty, as well as its clear Tibetan style. We can appreciate that the artist has inborn talent, even if it is not definitively “fine art.” It could be that the original drawings were colored, and that it wasn’t possible or practical to reproduce color in the journal [see Lange’s Book, p. 99], so there may have been tracing and retracing going on that would explain some of the awkward turns. It becomes clear that some parts of the original set of drawings were cut away in the publishing process, which is a pity, as the originals are for all we know irrevocably lost.)

Since we are never told what the official asked the artist to do, we can only assume that the subject matter was assigned by the former because of some special interest in death rituals in Central Tibet. But maps of the Wise Collection were likewise commissioned by the same Major Hay, while the depiction of tortures, as published by Hummel, was made at the instigation of a Moravian missionary. They all seem to belong to the same circle of artworks and indeed by the same artist. A richly illustrated new book on the Wise Collection looks into this whole problem. I recommend Diana Lange’s outstanding book as number one on your reading list if you can possibly get your hands on it.

And really, with apologies for repeating myself, I have no haughty attitude thinking I can see and understand everything. Be real: I’m a researcher, doing my best to see everything I can see with the help that is within my reach. At most I think I can help the conversation by making a thing here and there gain greater focus and clarity. Assuming you are willing I invite you, the Tibeto-logicians of the world, to join in a conversation of our own in which we will analyze and discuss every single detail, while at the same time finding ways to fit practices into broader patterns of meaning.

So here is a transcription of Horne’s 1873 essay. I’ve attempted to make my copy exact down to the last detail (even those circumflex accents on top of vowels that appear to me to contribute nothing), although I did replace SMALL CAPITALS with bold. The red letters are my own rubrics, not part of the original publication. In these red inserts of mine I’ve concentrated on the Tibetan terms and what these ought to mean, particularly where I perceive a problem.

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Art. III.—On the Methods of Disposing of the Dead at Llassa, Thibet, etc.  By Charles Horne, late B.C.S.

In the year 1857 one of the travelling Llamas from Llassa came to Lahoul, in the Kûlû country on the Himalêh, and hearing of the mutiny was afraid to proceed. Major Hay, who was at that place in political employ, engaged this man to draw and describe for him many very interesting ceremonies in use in Llassa, amongst which was the method there employed in disposing of dead bodies. This so exactly confirms the accounts given by Strabo and Cicero, and is, moreover, of itself so curious, that I have transcribed it, with as many passages relating to the subject as readily came to hand ; and as the Llama was a very fair draughtsman, I have had facsimiles made of his drawings to illustrate this paper. I will first give the extracts, and then the account of the Llama.

B.C.S. I take to mean British Civil Service. Kulu Valley is south of Lahul, with the Rotang Pass rising between them. If you are curious about the “Mutiny,” there is a Wiki page about it. These were desperate times. 

This clearly implies that Major Hay had other sets of drawings made depicting still other Lhasa customs and ceremonies. Did he also commission the torture depictions that the missionary Ribbach passed along to the ethnologist Hummel? (Lange’s book says Jäschke was the commissioner.) There is a missing link in it, but it is suggestive that Ribbach’s book includes two Tibetan drawings, one of a carpenter making use of an adze, the other a part of a wedding ceremony. Although both were surely drawn by a Tibetan, they show signs of retouching, added shading and so on. 

Lange’s book quotes from the notes of Hay that would seem to tell us his several names (see her pp. 34-37). I tried, but couldn’t find out anything more by researching those same names. By contrast, quite a lot can be known about [William Edmund] Hay, the author of the English-language notes published by Horne. His history is explored in Lange’s book, pp. 26-30.

M. Huc, the interesting Jesuit traveller, in his Travels, tome ii., p. 347, when at Llassa, alluding to hydrophobia says (free translation) : —“It is only surprising that this horrible complaint does not commit greater ravages when one thinks of the numbers of famished dogs who constantly prowl about the streets of Llassa. These animals are so numerous in this town that the Chinese say, ironically, that the three chief products of the capital of Thibet are Llamas, women, and dogs (Llama-Yatêon-Keon). This astonishing multitude of dogs is caused by the great respect that the Thibetans have for these animals, and the use they make of them for the disposal of the dead. There are four manners of sepulture in Thibet: first, incremation ; second, throwing into the rivers or lakes; third, exposure on the summits of mountains; and the fourth, which is the most flattering of all, consists in cutting the dead bodies [p. 29] in pieces and giving them to the dogs to eat.” The last method is the most general. The poor have for their sepulture the dogs of the environs, but for persons of distinction they employ a little more ceremony. There are establishments where they rear and maintain dogs for this sole purpose, and it is to these places that the Thibetans take their dead to be disposed of. Strabo, Cicero, and Justin, allude to these practices.

Given the time of writing it shouldn’t come to us as such a surprise that classical Latin authorities are given the first and last words here.  While it is true that there is much variation in local practice, I doubt that dogs were ever the main intended consumers. In Lhasa area I’ve heard it said that the dogs were chased away if they tried to approach, that all the work was reserved for the vultures. One might even wonder if the missionary Huc got his idea from the classical authors cited in the next paragraphs. However, we must point out that not one of these classical authors intended to tell us about Tibetan practices, so for this reason their relevance is highly questionable. There was such a strong urge in these early modern ethnographies to trace every observed cultural practice back to a Greek or Latin author, as if there were something direct evidence couldn't prove by itself, as if books are the only reliable sources. Remember, these were the days when everything outside the main monotheistic religion was called paganism or heathenism, and any one pagan was the equivalent of all the others.

But perhaps I need to take back the words I just typed, since at least in the time of the Fifth Dalai Lama, there is one bit of literary evidence dogs were included together with the birds as intended recipients (see Gouin's book, p. 60, for a much recommended discussion). At the same time no variant of the term khyi[r] sbyin seems to appear with this meaning in Tibetan literature. At the moment my impression is that the drawing before us is an important evidence that lower class funerals could and sometimes did involve dogs even if this is hardly ever recorded by Tibetan authors. In any case, I don’t find what classical authors have to say relevant or even very interesting, and offer no further comment on them.

1. Strabo, speaking of the customs of the nomad Scythians as preserved amongst the Soghdians and Bactrians, says:—“In the capital of the Bactrians, they bring up dogs to which they give a particular name, and this name translated into our language would be ‘interrers.’ These dogs have to devour all those who become feeble from age or illness. Hence it is that the environs of this capital show no tombs; but within the walls many human bones are to be seen. Alexander is said to have abolished this custom.”

2. Cicero attributes the same custom to the Hyrcanians when he says: “In Hyrcania plebs publicos alit canes; optimates, domesticos. Nihile autem genus canum illud scimus esse. Sed pro sua quisque facultate parat a quibus lanietur; iamque optimam illi esse consent sepulturam.” (Tuscul. Quaest, lib. i., p. 45.)

3. Justin says also of the Parthians : “Sepultura vulgi aut avium aut canum laniatus est. Nuda demum ossa terrá obruunt.” (Note de Klaproth.)

Herodotus also alludes to the practice; but the above quotations may be held to be sufficient.

Now for the Llama’s account, more in detail. The accompanying sketches by the same hand explain these:—

No 1. Phôwâ Gyâgpâ,—Phôwâ is the name of the mantra or prayer, and Gyagpâ the person repeating it. The drawing represents a man who has died, and by his prayers a Llama had restored the spirit into the belly, and is in the act of drawing out the same by the end of his hair, Trâtenbâ, which he is supposed to unite with his own spirit (or mun); and having done so, he is held, whilst sitting in meditation with his eyes closed, to cause the united spirit to [p. 30] pass out at his own head: Triloknâth is supposed to be there seated whilst he (the Llama) is praying, and so the said united spirit enters the body of Triloknâth by the anus, and thus they both are imagined to have become united to, and mingled with, the essence of the Deity.

Phowa Gyagpa (འཕོ་བ་རྒྱག་པ་) is the label of drawing 1 of Plate One. Drawings 1, 2 and 4 have their own individual labels. Drawing 1 depicts a monk figure administering rites for the dead or dying person. As the label strongly suggests it must be the Phodeb Lama (འཕོ་འདེབས་བླ་མ་) assuring that the consciousness (རྣམ་ཤེས་) will exit through the top of the head rather than any of the inferior bodily apertures. The name for the fontanelle in Tibetan is tsangbug (ཚངས་བུག་), meaning Aperture of Brahma. The Phodeb Lama might pull our a few hairs at the top of the head to facilitate a favorable outcome. Behind Trâtenbâ is the Tibetan skra 'then-pa (སྐྲ་འཐེན་པ་), or pulling out hair.

No. 2 is the Sipâ, who comes to consult the dead man’s horoscope and future destiny; and to show how the body is to be placed with reference to the point of the compass.

No. 3 is a relation of the deceased consulting the priest.

No. 4 Gnûvâ (or weeping), is the brother of the deceased receiving consolation from another, who administers chang or spirits, and bids him cheer up.

The astrologer or tsipa (རྩིས་པ་) may help decide what type of interment needs to be done. In drawing 3, the relative of the deceased is consulting with the astrologer who may or may not be a priest (he is wearing monastic robes, even more clearly so when he reappears in drawing no. 9), and in drawing 4 there is mourning or weeping (ངུ་བ་) going on, and if you look closely you can see a cup getting filled.

Nos. 5 and 6. These are two Getongs, called Gyûnzhûgpa, who are supposed to be for two days and nights meditating and praying mentally for the soul of the deceased.

I suppose Gyûnzhûgpa intends Gyunzhugpa (རྒྱུན་བཞུགས་པ་), or the ones who constantly abide, keeping vigil. The only way I can think to explain the word Getong is to imagine Gendun (དགེ་འདུན་), the Tibetan equivalent of Sanskrit Saṅgha, is hidden in it.

Nos. 7 and 8. Chêdûnpâ reading the Purtô-tî-sôl. The meaning is this: for four days after death the spirit is supposed to hover near, and to preserve the power of seeing and hearing, and hence it listens to the contents of this book, in which are described the six roads by which to travel to the other world:—

Does Chêdûnpâ stand for Chödönpa or Chos ’don-pa (ཆོས་འདོན་པ་), Dharma Reciter? It seems so. And the book they are reciting, Purtô-tî-sôl, has to be the well-known Bardo Thödol (བར་དོ་ཐོས་གྲོལ་). If you inspect closely, you can even make out that same Tibetan title inscribed on the pages they are holding.

1. A White road, or Karpo; 2. A Yellow road, or Sirpo; 3. A Black road, or Nâgpô; 4. A Green road, or Jûnzu; 5. A Red road, or Marpo; 6. A Blue road, or Unpo.

The readers shout out relative to these roads in substance as follows: These are the six roads. If you go by the white road, you will reach the Deotas; but you must not go there. If you try the yellow road, you will be reborn on this earth; don’t go by that road, because this re-birth on earth will be eternally repeated. If you go by the black road, you will reach Niruk, or hell; don’t go there, because it will involve endless pain and torment. Don’t go by the green road, which leads through Lamayin, i.e. the sky below Indra’s Paradise, where they are always at war with one another. Don’t go by the red road, because there you will meet with the Idâk, or evil spirits, who have large heads, very small necks, and very empty bellies, which are never satisfied. Don’t go by the blue road, because there are the animals [p. 31] Timôd, who alone have power, and you will be devoured. But look up towards heaven, and you will see, as in a glass flickering, a red and yellow road, shining like lightning. On seeing it you will be greatly afraid, but never fear, and travel by that road, and you will be sure to reach Llama Kânchôk, or God, and you will enter into the Deity. If you cannot by any possibility get by that road, then go by the white road! ! You are now become like air; you can’t remain in this world; so be off! !

In the Chönyid Bardo (ཆོས་ཉིད་བར་དོ་), in each of seven days, an existential decision is made by the intermediate being whether to follow the dull or the bright paths into one or another of the states of rebirth. Each day presents paths with specific colors. For a great deal of detail, see the section on the dawning of the peaceful deities in Evans-Wentz’s classic version of Kazi Dawa Samdup’s translation, at pp. 104-131; or if you prefer the more readable modern translation by the late Gyurme Dorje, pp. 234-254.  

Among other things, I cannot explain Timôd as a word for animal. In this context the normal Tibetan word would be dündro (དུད་འགྲོ). Notice, too, that a small distortion has entered into the text, and it isn’t the problem that the bardo being could be devoured by taking the blue road, but that animal rebirth, a result of taking the blue road, would involve constant danger of being devoured.

No. 9, Sipa, or Llama, consulting his book to see how the corpse is to be disposed of. If burnt, how the face is to be turned. The horn is that of the Sûrû or Isôtio, which he takes in his hand to drive away evil spirits.

It is possible part of the drawing was cut off, since here we do not see anyone consulting a book or holding a horn.  The astrologer is doing the death calculations (ཤི་རྩིས་) on his chalk board with a stylus. The horn of the Sûrû must mean the horn of a rhinoceros, or seru (བསེ་རུ་), about an animal named Isôtio I haven’t the least idea. But then I also have no knowledge of the ritual use of rhino horns, do you? You may also wonder about the complicated astrological chart lying open in front of the astrologer. To see a magnificent example you need to consult the original edition of Chogay Trichen Rinpoche’s Gateway to the Temple, the two foldout illustrations at the end of the book.

No. 10, Sûrukâpâ, burns incense.

It may well seem difficult to justify and be sure of it, but I suppose this intends the tsasur (ཚ་གསུར་) rite, or rather the one who performs that rite, the *tsasur-gyapa (*ཚ་གསུར་རྒྱག་པ་)?  Tsasur literally means ‘hot singeing.’ It employs that syllable sur (གསུར་) that we’ve blogged about before (at this link). But the syllable can also appear in a bisyllabic form suru (སུ་རུ་) as in surupa (སུ་རུ་པ་), a rite involving the burning of barley known from ethnographic sources. It is very likely “pagan” and pre-Buddhist in its origins, while the word itself links it to very ancient Mesopotamian sin expiation rites and similar grain/bread singeing rites of the Middle East continually practiced until today. To call this rite an incense burning is a little off the mark. It is more like a food offering for divine or spirit recipients.* 

(*The most recommended discussion is the one in Gouin's book, pp. 26-29.  Tibetanists can find more references to ethnographical literature in the su ru pa and gsur entries of TibVocab, and there is of course the article on tsasur by Panglung Rinpoche listed in the blog link supplied just above.).

No. 11, Ro, or a corpse. It is tied by a rope to the top of the room in a corner, and seated on an iron frame or stool, when the impurities are supposed to empty themselves below into a pan placed for the purpose. A cloth is placed over the head to conceal the face, and a pardah, or screen of cloth, is placed before the body, on which is affixed a picture of Sangyê Mulla, or Doojêh Zhigrit, a deity of the Gelukpa.*1

Here we see the only two Tibetan-language labels of Plate Two:  Sangyé Mulla is misspelled in an amusing way, making us think of Iranian Mullahs, but the Tibetan-letter inscription leaves no doubt it means Sangyé Menla (སངས་རྒྱས་སྨན་བླ་), the Medicine Buddha Bhaiṣajyaguru, while Doojêh Zhigrit is Dorjé Jigjé (རྡོ་རྗེ་འཇིགས་བྱེད་), or Vajrabhairava. Ro (རོ་) is indeed the ordinary word for corpse, but it is odd that the curtain is called by the Persian-derived word pardah that does mean ‘curtain’, better known in the Anglo-Indian form purdah, meaning not only the curtain, but the practice of isolating of women that curtain indicates. 

Like a few of the other drawings, it appears that part of this one was cut off in the process of publication. The suttoo word that follows I am unable to supply with a correct Tibetan spelling, and in any case it appears to apply to the lost part of the drawing.

Before the corpse on the ground is placed a little suttoo (fine flour), and some water. In this plate the knees only of the corpse are shown, the rest must be supposed.

No. 12 represents a man carrying off the corpse packed up in a portable shape, as also others with necessaries. The class of men who perform this work are called Togdun.

In general Togden (རྟོགས་ལྡན་) means a ‘realized one.’ It’s the Tibetan equivalent of yogi-sadhu meditators of India.  Like the sadhus, they often wear their uncut hair in a topknot.  Here the specific meaning of ‘corpse bearer’ seems an example of polite euphemism. The usual idea is that they might be practitioners of Cutting practice (གཅོད་), for obvious if not therefore necessarily correct reasons. After all, the Cutting practitioners make an offering out of their own individual body (as part of a vividly real visualization practice), not the body of any other.

No. 13. The corpse at this place, Tûtôt, is pegged out to five wooden pins. Then it is scored all over with a knife, and the men retire to a short distance and sit down and drink chang, or spirits, as shown in No. 14. The vultures meanwhile tear the flesh from the body, which does not take long, in consequence of the numbers always frequenting these spots. When the men return they find only the skeleton. They then take the bones to No. 15, where they pound them

*1 This Llama would appear to have belonged to the Gelukpa, or yellow sect, and his description applies more particularly to the customs of that sect of Buddhists, which is well represented at Llassa. The word means virtuous.

[p. 32] up with stones and hammers, after which they are thrown to the vultures. No dogs are allowed here, and the place is called Châtôr, from Châ, “a bird.”

Châtôr (བྱ་གཏོར་) means scattering [for] the birds. The drawing shows the corpse secured to stakes to prevent the birds from dragging it away. Tûtôt is just an odd way of transcribing durtrö (དུར་ཁྲོད་), not really a proper name just the word for any charnel ground.

No. 16  is a man singeing the hair off the head, a portion of the skull of which is preserved and afterwards pounded up, mixed with earth, and formed into small shapes with figures of Triloknâth or Sakya stamped upon them, or moulded into small Chortens or Dagobas.

This refers to the making of funerary tsatsa (ཚ་ཚ་). After clay has been mixed with remains of the deceased, lumps of it are stamped with metal molds into the shapes of Buddhist sacred objects: holy texts, divine images or chortens. After hardening they might be placed in a pure place in nature, or in a tsakhang (ཚ་ཁང་). I imagine the author[s?] might have had the Triloknath temple in neighboring Chamba in mind, otherwise I can’t explain his use of the name. Sakya means Śākyamuni.

No. 17 shows us the Tôgduns drinking tea after their work is ended.

Here you may see that there is a tripod for heating the tea. I suppose the two figures directly above are drinking tea, while the pair directly above them are no. 14, the chang drinkers.

No. 18 represents a man driving off the vultures, Chagôt, to prevent them devouring the corpse until it shall first have been properly scored all over.

Chagôt is chagö (བྱ་རྒོད་). It’s the normal word for vulture, although if we pull the two syllables apart it can mean 'wild/militant bird.'

Plate no. 3 represents a place in Llassa called Râgyûp-dûtôd. Ra means “a horn”; Gyup, “behind”; Dutod, “Golgotha.”

There is a small mistake here, since even if ra does mean ‘horn’, in this context it ought to be spelled rags, meaning ‘dike’. This Ragyab Durtrö (རགས་རྒྱབ་དུར་ཁྲོད་, correcting the label given: ལྷ་ས་ར་རྒྱབ་དུ་ཁྲོད་) is said to be located near Kusangtse House (The Life and Times of George Tsarong of Tibet, 1920–1970, p. 51). It is odd to choose Golgotha as a translation for Durtrö, when Akeldama would have been a much better match.

Here are five stones fixed in the ground, to which the corpse is tied, and three men, Tôgdun, are cutting up the body and bones, all of which are given to the dogs. This mode of disposal of the dead is called Ki-chin (Ki is a dog). Very many dogs always remain at this place. The hammers and axes are for breaking up the skeleton. The man on the right supplies the operators with chang or spirits.

Ki-chin is khyijin (ཁྱི་སྦྱིན་), offerings [to] dogs.

No. 18 represents the house which is called Râgyuptôgdun, and is built of horns and inhabited by the Tôgdun. There are a hundred of such houses in the suburbs of Llassa, besides two hundred inhabited by the butchers (Shêva) constructed in a similar manner.

All these people beg and collect much money, chiefly from the relations of the dead, by whom they are well paid.

They are said to be insolent in their demands, and if anyone gives them half a tunka (or small piece of money), they spit upon it and throw it away, saying, “If you are not ashamed to give so little, I am ashamed to receive it.”

Many early travelers to Lhasa have noticed the ragyabpa homes made of horns (and bones).  I cannot hold back from sharing some jewels of wisdom from the respectable American ambassador William Rockhill, as recorded in a footnote to Sarat Chandra Das’s classic book Journey to Lhasa and Tibet (for the quote see under “Das” in the list of references down below). I find it quite funny, only not sure if you will share in my sense of humor. I’m thinking you won’t.

No. 19 is the parapet of the Râkâtchûmi or well.

My best guess is that this refers to the Ragyab Chumig (རགས་རྒྱབ་ཆུ་མིག), or the well in the neighborhood back of the Lhasa dike.

No. 20 is a Chânochûp chorten, with a figure of Triloknath, supposed to have appeared there miraculously without mortal assistance.

The Changchub Chorten (བྱང་ཆུབ་མཆོད་རྟེན་) is the most commonly built type of chorten among Tibetans today, originally built to memorialize the Deed of the Buddha when He found Awakening.

[p. 33]

No. 21, or Purkung (Pûr being applied to the corpse of a superior and Ro to that of an inferior; Khung signifies a house), shows the method in which the higher people of Llassa are burnt. A building is first erected, with a hollow in the centre, into which the body is placed in an upright position. The face is covered with red silk, and the wood used to burn the body is Shukpa, or pencil cedar (Juniperus exelsa), and frankincense. The attending Llama is shown feeding the flames with ghee or clarified butter.

Plate 4 needs to be divided with a vertical line down the middle, with Tibetan cremation rites on your left, and Chinese mausoleum rites on your right.  The Tibetan script label for no. 21, burkhang (བུར་ཁང་), has to be read purkhang (པུར་ཁང་). The syllable pur (པུར་) is often spelled spur (སྤུར་), even sometimes dpur (དཔུར་). Whatever its spelling, it is, as it says here, a respectful term for corpse, in common language ro (རོ་). 

No. 22 shows two Llamas, who are offering up prayers and the hôn of sacrifice by fire, and are dressed the same as the deceased. They have in their hands the dril-bu or sacred bell.

Hôn has to be for Sanskrit homa, in Tibetan jinseg (སྦྱིན་བསྲེགས་). A normal term for cremation is roseg (རོ་བསྲེགས་). For the most accessible description of a Tibetan jinseg rite, see Beyer’s book, pp. 264-278, with its listing of burning materials (no. 23 just below) on pp. 271-272.

No. 23. These choptahs, or vessels of green sugar, etc., are burnt with the body.

These would be the usual homa offerings, each in its separate bowl, as they would be offered into the fire one at a time and in order, although green sugar is not among them to the best of my knowledge.

When, however, a man of high rank dies from smallpox, he is not burnt, but buried, and a tomb, as shown in No. 24 (Pûltun), built of stone, is erected over the spot.

I think the label Pûltun goes with No. 25, and not No. 24. What is actually depicted here is a ‘long stone’ or Doring (རྡོ་རིང་), with an inscription I cannot manage to read.

Should the sufferer from the same complaint have been of inferior rank, a small heap of stones only is made over his grave, as shown in No. 25.

I suggest that the label burtan (བུར་ཐན་) here transcribed as Pûltun, has to be read purtal (པུར་ཐལ་). The first is seriously meaningless (brown sugar drought?), while the latter means cremation ash.

No. 26, Rogum or Rokum (Gum means a coffin), represents a Chinaman’s body as laid in his coffin, with silver, gold, sugar, rice, etc. This coffin is then placed in a tomb, No. 27, called Gyamirôkung, the place assigned for the burial being Tubchitung, two miles outside Llassa.

Rogam (རོ་སྒམ་) is the word for coffin, literally corpse box. But Gyamirôkung is for Gyami Rokhang (རྒྱ་མི་རོ་ཁང་), or Chinese mausoleums. I could not identify the place Tubchitung. Now I suppose as Lange (p. 106) tells us, it’s Drapchi Tang (གྲྭ་བཞི་ཐང་), originally the site of an army garrison, and more lately an infamous prison (གྲྭ་བཞི་བཙོན་ཁང་); see Lange’s book, p. 106.

No. 28 shows a chief mourner, dressed in white, which is the colour of Chinese mourning. The other relations are not always clad in mourning, but all put on a linen or cotton turban, setting their ordinary caps on one side, which, however, all except the chief mourner resume when leaving the tomb.

No 29 is the Washun or Chinese priest.

The usual spelling is Hoshang, in Tibetan, Hashang (ཧྭ་ཤང་).

No. 30 are Shôkpâ, or fireworks, which are lighted and fired three times, when the mourners prostrate themselves nine times.

After seven days have elapsed, they again visit the tomb, when the same ceremony is performed. [p. 34]

The modern Tibetan word for firecracker ought, according to Goldstein’s dictionary, be shogpa (ཤོག་པག), a word I cannot explain unless it means paper brick, although I suspect it to be a modern borrowing. If you need convincing that fireworks are used at Chinese funerals, as on other special occasions, see this whole set of videos on YouTube.

At no. 31 are represented dishes of sweetmeats, of which, after the fireworks and the nine prostrations, the mourners partake, and then return to their homes.

No. 32 shows Tchûchintôrma, a ceremony in which in one basin are placed little bits of flour paste rolled up, called torma; and in another water (tchû), with which these little pieces of paste are put. Chin, “offering,” completes the work.

The Llama is supposed to be offering these to the Idâk, or bad spirits aforementioned as inhabiting the place mentioned in Red Road No. 5. These Idâk have, as aforesaid, large heads, small necks, and large bellies never to be satisfied.

In Sanskrit the word Idâk is called Prêtâ, which means a departed soul, spirit of the dead, ghost, or evil spirit.

Tchûchintôrma is in the label chujin torma (ཆུ་སྦྱིན་གཏོར་མ་).

Idâk is Yidag (ཡི་དྭགས་), or in Sanskrit Preta. It usually means one of the five or six states of rebirth known to Buddhism, and they are quite accurately described as having thin necks, enormous stomachs, making them constantly hungry, while liquids that pass their lips turn into fire, making them permanently parched. However, particularly in context of the water offering rites (ཆུ་སྦྱིན་), the term can in practice cover the whole range of spirit beings. For more discussion, see this recent two-part blog, where you will also find discussion of the ritual implements portrayed in the drawing: the pitcher, the basin, and the chalice.

So far the Llama describes the different methods of the disposal of dead bodies in Llassa as observed by the Thibetans and Chinese.

[An excursus on embalming follows, although it is not depicted. On Tibetan embalming practices, see Uebach’s essay. I cannot explain what Chîn Chut ought to be in proper spelling]

There is, however, one other method of preserving the dead bodies of their highest Llamas.

The first process is to cover up the body in salt, which dissolves and becomes absorbed in the flesh ; this process is repeated two or three times. When a sufficient quantity has been absorbed to preserve the body, it is taken out, the limbs relaxed, and the body placed in a sitting attitude and clothed; the hands having been placed in a position called Chîn Chut. When the muscles of the face relax and the skin shrivels, wax is put in to fill up the cheeks to the natural size, and the body is preserved in a chorten as a mummy which can be seen at any time.

Note by Major Hay.—“No man can fail to remark how similar the altar is to that shown on the reverse of many Sassanian coins. It is probable their custom of burning the bodies of their kings was the same, and the attendants seem even to have the same kind of cap. The ancient Persians according to Herodotus and Strabo, exposed their dead to be devoured by vultures. It should, however, be remarked that the bodies of the old monarchs of Persia were interred, not burnt, which would have been contrary to the laws of [p. 35] Zoroaster, as tending to desecrate the sacred element—fire; nor were they previously exposed to be devoured by animals, as was prescribed by the precept of the Magi, with whom the dog was a sacred animal.”

In continuation of the above, as the subject is of one of interest, I subjoin a few extracts from Rollin’s Ancient History, and other sources relative to the subject.

The ancient Persians, we are told by Herodotus, did not erect funeral piles for the dead or consume their bodies in the flames.

“Accordingly we find that Cyrus,*1 when he was at the point of death, took care to charge his children to inter his body and to restore it to the earth; that is the expression he makes use of : by which he seems to declare, that he looked upon the earth as the original parent from whence he sprang, to which he ought to return. And when Cambyses had offered a thousand indignities to the dead body of Amasis,*2 king of Egypt, he thought he crowned all by causing it to be burnt, which was equally contrary to the Egyptian and Persian manner of treating their dead. It was the custom of the latter to wrap up their dead in wax, in order to keep them longer from corruption.”

Cicero says, Tuscul. Quaest., lib. i., p. 108 :

“Condiunt Egyptii mortuos, et eos domi servant: Persae jam cerâ circumlitos condiunt, ut quam maxime permaneant diuturna corpora.”

Major Hay, in his report on the Spiti Valley, written in 1850, tells us that incremation is the ordinary method of disposing of the dead in Spiti. Their ashes are thrown into the nearest running stream, the spot where the body was burnt plastered over with cowdung, and an urn put up.

I have repeatedly seen these urns in Kurnawur, and always supposed them to contain the ashes, and I was informed that such was the case. Those dying of smallpox were not burned, but buried ; and I have also seen the heaps of stones which had been placed over the grave, but curiously enough during the months that I was in the country I never witnessed a funeral or incremation.

*1 Cyrop., 1. viii., p. 238.  *2 Herod., 1. iii., c. 16.

• END •

References & Selective Readings

Stephan Beyer, The Cult of Tārā: Magic and Ritual in Tibet, University