strangely alike. Neither here nor elsewhere in Tibet
do the men grow moustaches or beards .; the utmost
that one ever sees is a thin fringe of scanty hair marking
the lips, or pointing the chin of a high official. It cannot
be claimed that Tibetan ladies look beautiful. It is
of course difficult to say what the effect would be if
some of them were thoroughly washed. As it is, they
exist from the cradle, or what corresponds to it, to the
stone slab on which their dead bodies are hacked to
pieces, without a bath or even a partial cleansing
of any kind. One could imagine that they were of a
tint almost as dark as a Gurkha, but this is by no means
the case. In spite of the dirt, wherever the bodies
are protected by clothes the skin remains of an ivory
whiteness, which is indistinguishable from that of
the so-called white races. At times also accident,
perhaps in the shape of rain, has the effect of removing
an outer film of dirtiness, and then it is quite
clear that Tibetan girls, until they are two or three
and twenty, have a complexion. Of course the habit
of the race, of besmearing the forehead, cheeks, and
nose with dark crimson kutch, which blackens as it
dries, militates against any display of beauty. The
origin of this strange custom is, like most facts and
theories about Tibet, the subject of hot dispute. Some
contend that it originally marked the married women
only : some will have it, and there seems some evidence
in their favour, that this disfigurement was intentionally
introduced in order to save the ladies of Tibet from the
sin of vanity, and incidentally, also, to reduce the chances
of_ young men’s infatuation. The third and more
prosaic explanation is that it is done to mitigate the
Chumbi Valley. A view taken from the mountain side near Kata-tsang. The mule lines of
Chumbi below on left bank ; Eusaka in middle distance on right bank. The Maharajah’ s
palace in far distance.