helper and interpreter, who had once been a lama
himself, stood a pace in rear.
On the Tashi Lama’s left, but seated only a few
inches off the ground, was the Prime Minister, beaming
on all around, and seemingly quite contented with
himself and the world in general. On this official s
left, again, were members of the Tashi Lama’s family.
The rest of the Europeans were given deep and
soft cushions, covered in red cloth and raised about
one foot from the ground, on Captain O’Connor’s
right, and therefore at right angles to the dais.
Directly facing us stood a row of Shapes, temporal
officials in yellow robes, and behind them a crowd
of monks, row upon row, the farthest barely distinguishable
in the darkness.
As soon as our eyes had become accustomed to the
dim light, we had time to look around and examine
our surroundings.
The room was not large, no larger than the
ordinary prayer-room of the monasteries we had
already seen. The roof was supported by numerous
carved and painted pillars, all of good and rich
workmanship, but much faded since they were last
renovated. Hanging from it and suspended from the
walls were banners of silk and brocade, likewise old
and dingy, though when new they must have been of
exceptional beauty.
Behind the dais and running the entire length of
the room was a black wood cabinet, barely distinguishable
in the gloom cast by the overhanging roof above.
On the shelves, china bowls, gilt figures, and jewel-
studded chortans caught the light which filtered
through the row of small windows high above the
doorway. The atmosphere was laden with the scent
of herbs and burning incense.
The Tashi Lama’s dais was raised some four feet
from the floor, and like so much of the other furniture
was draped in dark cloth. On this he was seated
cross-legged, and remained in this position throughout
the interview.
He is a young man, twenty-three years of age,
exceptionally fair in complexion, with high cheek-bones
and finely chiselled features, bespeaking the Mongolian
race and aristocratic lineage. His voice is low and
gentle, and when speaking a perpetual smile plays about
his face. The hands are extremely white, and the
fingers long and thin. He looks healthy but not robust,
for the life of seclusion he leads is not such as would
give vigorous health to anyone. Taken as a whole,
his face is most prepossessing—gentleness, goodness,
and bland innocence of the ways of the world being
the chief characteristics. The otherwise perfect lines
are a little marred by slightly prominent teeth and a
rather weak jaw.
He was dressed entirely in the usual dark-red
monk’s cloak, but of fine material and with a greater
number of slashes of red silk let in than is generally to
be found amongst the highest orders. No ornaments
or jewels were visible, but below the outer garb, when
moving his arm, could be discerned an under-robe of
gold embroidered silk.
At first his manners indicated great nervousness, for
he had never seen Europeans before, and had probably
but a vague idea as to where they came from. He
conversed in low and dignified tones with Captain
O’Connor, informing him of his age, health, etc.,
and then inquiring after ours—the correct way to
start an interview in Tibet. As his nervousness wore
off, the scope of the conversation widened, and inquiries
were made as to our identity and plans.