Part 1
FOLK TALES FROM TIBET
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A TIBETAN ARTIST AND SOME VERSES FROM TIBETAN LOVE-SONGS
COLLECTED AND TRANSLATED BY CAPT. W. F. O’CONNOR, C.I.E. Secretary and Interpreter of the Mission to Lhasa (1904)
LONDON HURST AND BLACKETT, LTD. 182, HIGH HOLBORN, W.C.
1906
All rights reserved
PREFACE.
In presenting these little stories to the public, it may perhaps be of interest if I describe how I came by them.
During two years spent in Tibet, at Gyantse, Lhasa, and elsewhere, I have made many friends amongst all classes of Tibetans—high and low, rich and poor—and have conversed with all sorts of persons upon all sorts of topics. In the course of my wanderings I learned that there exists amongst this fascinating and little-known people a wealth of folk-lore, hitherto inaccessible to the outside world, and I made efforts to collect as many of their stories as I could.
For certain special reasons this quest proved more difficult than I had anticipated. In the first place, I found that many of the best known stories had been imported bodily from India [1] or China, and possess but little of that local colouring which is one of the chief charms of folk-lore. Secondly, some of the very best and most characteristic stories are unfit for publication in such a book as this. [2] And, thirdly, human nature being much the same all the world over, it was not always possible to find a suitable raconteur in a suitable mood for story-telling. A story told by a nervous or reluctant narrator loses half its charm. A good story must be natural, and necessitates sympathy on the part both of teller and of hearer. Armed diplomatic missions and an official position, apart from all questions of difference of language and nationality, do not tend to elicit the ideal sentiments necessary for the establishment of complete mutual confidence.
But patience, and the growth of kindly feelings on both sides, helped me to some extent to overcome the shyness and reluctance of the simple folk who have supplied me with my material; and, as time went on, I was able to coax a story from many unlikely sources. Village headmen, monks, servants, local government officials, peasants, traders—these and many others have contributed to my store. Shyly and haltingly at starting, with many bashful apologies and disclaimers, the story-teller will begin his tale. But a Tibetan audience is one of the best imaginable, and their open sympathy and appreciation soon melt the frosts of reserve, and the words flow freely. Presently all sense of constraint is lost, and I have known a story interrupted for ten minutes at a time by the uncontrollable merriment aroused by some comic incident.
Some of the stories, then, I have been obliged, reluctantly enough, to discard altogether for the present; others require further revision or elucidation. But the rest of my little store I give here, and with this one apology: that I have made no attempt to ornament or improve upon them. I have written them down just as I heard them, and have translated them, as accurately as I could, from the Tibetan idiom into ours. As to their origin or scientific bearing I say nothing, and put forward no theories. I leave the Tales to speak for themselves; but would invite, and shall cordially welcome, the criticisms and surmises of all students of folk-lore who are in a position to give an expert opinion upon such points, and to shed a light upon obscure corners into which I have been unable to penetrate.
I have added to the stories a few verses taken at random from popular Tibetan love-songs, as a sample of the wealth of imagery and genuine poetic sentiment which is to be found amongst the inhabitants of this strange country. Owing to the extremely idiomatic form and severe compression of Tibetan metrical compositions, the translation of these songs into anything even distantly resembling poetry, without altogether destroying the characteristics of the original, presents peculiar difficulties; and I must crave indulgence for their crudeness and lack of artistic finish.
The pictures are the maiden effort at book illustration of a Tibetan artist, resident at Gyantse, and are, I fear, somewhat weak in details, as owing to my absence from Gyantse during the time they were in progress I was unable personally to superintend their execution. For the excellent photograph which appears as the frontispiece I am indebted to my friend and companion at Gyantse, Capt. R. Steen, of the Indian Medical Service.
In conclusion, I must express my grateful acknowledgments to Mr. Perceval Landon, to whose suggestion the collection and publication of these Tales, as well as their illustration by a native artist, is in a great measure due; and I must thank him, moreover, for many valuable hints and much kindly sympathy and assistance.
W. F. O’Connor, Capt.
CONTENTS.
PAGE I.—How the Hare got his Lip Split 1 II.—The Story of the Tiger and the Man 6 III.—The Story of Good Faith 12 IV.—The Story of the Two Neighbours 20 V.—The Story of the Cat and the Mice 26 VI.—The Story of the Foolish Young Mussulman 30 VII.—The Kyang, the Fox, the Wolf and the Hare 43 VIII.—The Frog and the Crow 48 IX.—The Hare and the Lions 51 X.—The Sheep, the Lamb, the Wolf and the Hare 56 XI.—The Story of how the Hare made a Fool of the Wolf 60 XII.—The Mouse’s Three Children 68 XIII.—The Jackals and the Tiger 76 XIV.—The Story of the Three Thieves 80 XV.—The Story of the Boy with the Deformed Head 92 XVI.—The Prince and the Ogre’s Castle 103 XVII.—The Story of the Stone Lion 116 XVIII.—The Story of the Lama’s Servant 124 XIX.—The Country of the Mice 133 XX.—The Story of the Tortoise and the Monkey 141 XXI.—The Story of Room Bacha and Baki 147 XXII.—The Story of the Home-bred Boy 158 The Story of the Home-bred Boy (continued) 166 The Story of the Home-bred Boy (continued) 172 Some Verses from Tibetan Love-songs 175
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
One of the Story-tellers, with his Family and Servants Frontispiece The Hare and the Tiger Facing p. 2 The Wicked Neighbour removing Young Sparrow from Nest 22 “Worthy Father, I am turned into this” 25 The Young Mussulman pursued by his own Shadow 35 The Crow and the Frog in the Gutter 48 The Hare conversing with the Wolf 58 The Tiger and the Monkey approaching the Jackal’s Den 79 The Dragon attacking the Griffon’s Nest 98 The Stone Lion vomiting Gold 121 The Mice Crossing the Stream 137 The Monkey calling into the Tortoise’s Cave 145 The Glass Pillars dancing for the Ogre 147
FOLK TALES FROM TIBET.
STORY No. I.
HOW THE HARE GOT HIS SPLIT LIP.
A hare was going along a road one day, when suddenly, on turning a corner, he came upon a large Tiger. The Tiger at once seized the Hare, and said that he was going to eat him.
“Please, please, Uncle Tiger,” said the Hare, holding up his thumbs in supplication, “please don’t eat me, I am only a very small beast, and will make a very insufficient meal for a great big animal like you. And if you will spare my life I will take you to where you can find a much bigger, fatter creature than me for your supper.”
“Very well,” said the Tiger, “I agree to that. But if you don’t show me a much bigger animal than you are, I shall certainly be obliged to eat you.”
So he released the Hare, and the two walked off along the road together.
As they went along night began to fall, and when it was quite dark the Hare began smacking his chops and making sounds as if he was eating something very nice.
“What are you eating, Brother Hare?” asked the Tiger.
“I am eating my eye, Uncle Tiger,” replied the Hare. “I have taken it out and eaten it; it is very nice, and it soon grows again.”
The Tiger was rather surprised at hearing this, but being very hungry he proceeded to scrape out his own eye and eat it up. After going a little further the Hare again began smacking his lips, as if he was eating something.
“What are you eating now, Brother Hare?” asked the Tiger.
“I am eating my other eye, Uncle Tiger,” replied the Hare; “it is even better than the first.”
The foolish Tiger on hearing this proceeded to scrape out his other eye and eat that.
The Tiger was now quite blind, and the Hare led him along to the brink of a deep gulf, where he advised the Tiger to sit down and rest for a while. And after the Tiger was seated, the Hare said:
“Don’t you find it cold, Uncle Tiger? shall I light you a fire?”
“Yes, please, Brother Hare,” said the Tiger, “I think a fire would be very pleasant.”
So the Hare lighted a fire just in front of the Tiger, and when it was blazing up he kept putting the sticks nearer and nearer the Tiger, so that the Tiger was obliged to keep edging further and further away, when all of a sudden he toppled over backwards into the gulf behind. Now it happened that half-way down the gulf a tree was growing from a cleft in the precipice, and as he passed this the Tiger seized one of the boughs with his teeth, and so arrested his fall. The Hare, peeping over the edge, saw what had happened, and he called out:
“Oh, Uncle Tiger, Uncle Tiger, are you safe?”
The Tiger was afraid to open his mouth to reply, and all he could do was to growl, “M—m—m——”
“Oh, Uncle Tiger,” said the Hare, “is that all you can say? I am afraid you must be very badly hurt. Do just say ‘Ah!’ and I shall know that you are all right.”
The Tiger, anxious to please the Hare, opened his mouth to say “Ah!” and was instantly precipitated to the bottom of the gulf, where he fell upon some rocks and was killed.
Next morning the Hare went hopping down the road when he met a Man driving along a lot of Horses.
“Good morning, Father Man,” said he to the driver. “Would you like to know where you can find a good Tiger’s skin?”
“Yes, please, Brother Hare,” said the Man, thinking he would sell the skin and make a lot of money.
So the Hare pointed out to him where the dead Tiger lay in the ravine, and the Man hastened off to skin it, after first asking the Hare to take care of his Horses while he was away.
As soon as he was out of sight the Hare saw two Ravens sitting in a tree overhead. He called out to them:
“Brothers Raven, look here! Here are a lot of Horses with no one in charge. Why don’t you come down and feed on the sores on their backs?”
The Ravens thought this was a good idea, and flying down, they perched on the Horses’ backs, and began to dig their beaks into the sore places. The poor Horses, in fear and pain, soon stampeded, and galloped about all over the country.
The Hare then hopped on a little further down the road and came upon a Boy tending Sheep.
“Good-morning, Brother Boy,” said the Hare, “would you like to know where there is a fine Raven’s nest, full of eggs?”
“Yes, please, Brother Hare,” said the Boy, thinking he would climb the tree and take the Raven’s eggs. So the Hare pointed out to him the tree where the Raven’s nest was, and the Boy ran off to get the eggs, after first asking the Hare to take charge of the Sheep for him while he was away.
The Hare soon espied a Wolf on the hill-side not far off, so he went up to him and said:
“Good-morning, Brother Wolf, do you know that there is a fine flock of Sheep quite unguarded down there, and I should advise you to take advantage of this opportunity of killing some of them.”
The Wolf at once rushed down the hill into the middle of the flock of Sheep, scattering them all in every direction, and killing as many as he thought he required for his own use.
Meanwhile the Hare proceeded to the top of a high hill whence he could survey the whole country. From there he was able to discern the dead Tiger lying in the ravine, with the Man stripping off its skin; the Horses careering all over the country, with the Ravens pecking at the sores on their backs; the Boy robbing the Raven’s nest; and the Sheep, pursued by the Wolf, scattered to the four quarters of the compass.
The sight so amused the Hare that he leaned back on a handy stone, and laughed to such an extent that he actually split his upper lip. And it has remained split to this very day.
STORY No. II.
THE STORY OF THE TIGER AND THE MAN.
Once upon a time there were two Tigers who lived in a certain forest and had a family of three children. The Father Tiger grew old and began to fail, and just before his death he sent for his three children and addressed them as follows:
“Remember, my children,” said he, “that the Tiger is Lord of the jungle; he roams about at his will and makes a prey of the other animals as he wishes, and none can gainsay him. But there is one animal against whom you must be on your guard. He alone is more powerful and cunning than the Tiger. That animal is Man, and I warn you solemnly before I die to beware of Man, and on no account to try to hunt or to kill him.”
So saying, the old Tiger turned on his side and died.
The three young Tigers listened respectfully to the words of their dying parent and promised to obey; and the elder brothers, who were obedient sons, were careful to follow his advice. They confined their attentions to the slaughter of deer, pigs, and other denizens of the forest, and were careful, whenever they came within sight or scent of any human being, to clear off as fast as they could from so dangerous a neighbourhood. But the youngest Tiger was of an independent and inquisitive disposition. As he grew older and stronger he began to chafe against the restriction that had been imposed upon him.
“What, after all,” thought he to himself, “can be this creature Man that I should not slay him if I wish. I am told that he is but a defenceless creature, that his strength cannot be compared to mine, and that his claws and teeth are quite contemptible. I can pull down the largest stag or tackle the fiercest boar with impunity. Why, then, should not I be able to kill and eat Man also?”
So after a while, in his conceit and folly, he determined to quit his own part of the forest and to venture forth towards the open country in search of a Man as his prey. His two brothers and his mother tried to reason with him and to persuade him to remember the words of his dying father, but with no avail; and finally, one fine morning, in spite of their prayers and entreaties, he set off alone on his search.
He had not proceeded very far when he met an old, worn-out pack-Bullock, thin and emaciated, and with the marks of many ancient scars on his back. The young Tiger had never seen a Bullock before, and he regarded the creature with some curiosity. Walking up to it he said:
“What sort of animal are you, pray? Are you a Man by any chance?”
“No, indeed,” replied the creature; “I am only a poor Bullock.”
“Ah!” said the Tiger. “Well, perhaps you can tell me what sort of an animal Man is, for I am just going out to find and kill one.”
“Beware of Man, young Tiger,” replied the Bullock; “he is a dangerous and a faithless creature. Just look at me for example. From the time when I was very young I was Man’s servant. I carried loads for him on my back, as you may see by these scars, and for many years I slaved for him faithfully and well. While I was young and strong he cared for me and valued me highly; but as soon as I became old and weak, and was no longer able to do his work, he turned me out into this wild jungle to seek my food as best I might, and gave no thought for me in my old age. I warn you solemnly to leave him alone and not to try and kill him. He is very cunning and dangerous.”
But the young Tiger only laughed at the warning and went on his way. Soon afterwards he came across an ancient Elephant wandering by itself on the outskirts of the forest, and feeding with its trunk on the grasses and foliage which it loves. The old animal had a wrinkled skin and a small and bleary eye, and behind its huge ears were many cuts and ancient scars, showing where the goad had been so frequently applied.
The young Tiger eyed this strange animal with some surprise, and going up to it he said:
“What sort of an animal are you, please? You are not a Man, I suppose?”
“No, indeed,” replied the Elephant; “I am only a poor old worn-out Elephant.”
“Is that so?” answered the Tiger. “Perhaps you can tell me, however, what sort of a creature Man is, as I am now hunting for one in order to kill and eat him.”
“Beware how you hunt Man, young Tiger,” replied the old Elephant; “he is a faithless and dangerous animal. Look at my case. Although I am the Lord of the jungle, Man tamed me, and trained me, and made me his servant for many years. He put a saddle on my back and made stirrups of my ears, and he used to strike me over my head with an iron goad. While I was young and strong he valued me highly. Food was brought to me, as much as I could eat every day, and I had a special attendant who used to wash and groom me, and to see to all my wants. But when I became old and too infirm for further work, he turned me out into the jungle to fend for myself as best I could. If you will take my advice you will leave Man alone, or it will be the worse for you in the end.”
But the young Tiger laughed contemptuously and went on his way. After proceeding for some little distance he heard the sound of some one chopping wood, and creeping near he saw that it was a Woodcutter engaged in felling a tree. After watching him for some time the Tiger emerged from the jungle, and going up to the Man, he asked what sort of an animal he was. The Woodcutter replied:
“Why, what an ignorant Tiger you are; can’t you see that I am a Man?”
“Oh, are you,” replied the Tiger, “what a piece of luck for me. I was just looking for a Man in order to kill and eat him, and you will do nicely.”
On hearing this the Woodcutter began to laugh. “Kill and eat me,” he replied; “why, don’t you know that Man is much too clever to be killed and eaten by a Tiger? Just come with me a little way and I will show you some things which only a Man knows, but which will be very useful for you to learn.”
The Tiger thought that this was a good idea, so he followed the Man through the jungle until they came to the Man’s house, which was strongly built of timber and heavy logs.
“What is that place?” said the Tiger when he saw it.
“That is called a house,” replied the Man. “I will show you how we use it.”
And so saying he went inside and shut the door.
“Now,” said he, speaking from the inside to the Tiger, “you see what a foolish creature a Tiger is compared to a Man. You poor animals live in a hole in the forest, exposed to wind, rain, cold and heat; and all your strength is of no value to make a house like this. Whereas I, although I am so much weaker than you, can build myself a fine house, where I live at my ease, indifferent to the weather and secure from the attacks of wild animals.”
On hearing this the young Tiger flew into a violent passion.
“What right,” said he, “has an ugly, defenceless creature like you to possess such a lovely house? Look at me, with my beautiful stripes, and my great teeth and claws, and my long tail. I am far more worthy than you of a house. Come out at once, and give your house over to me.”
“Oh, very well,” said the Man, and he came out of the house leaving the door open, and the Tiger stalked in.
“Now, look at me,” called out the conceited young Tiger from inside, “don’t I look nice in my fine house?”
“Very nice indeed,” replied the Man, and bolting the door outside he walked off with his axe, leaving the Tiger to starve to death.
STORY No. III.
THE STORY OF GOOD FAITH.
The Tiger soon got tired of sitting in the house and tried to force his way out; but the house was too strongly built for him to be able to make any impression upon the walls, so he gave it up in despair and soon began to suffer severely from hunger and thirst. Two or three days passed away and the Tiger was in a sorry state, when, as he was peering through a chink in the logs he saw a little Musk Deer, which had come down to drink at the stream which was close by. When the Tiger saw the Deer he called out to her:
“Oh, Sister Deer, will you please come and open the door of this house. I am shut up inside, and as I have nothing to eat and drink I am afraid of starving to death.”
The Deer was a good deal frightened when she heard the Tiger’s voice, but when she understood how matters were she was reassured, and replied:
“Oh, Uncle Tiger, I am very sorry to hear of your misfortune. But I am afraid if I open the door and let you out you will kill and eat me.”
“No, no, I won’t,” replied the Tiger, “you can rely upon me. I promise you faithfully that if you will release me I will let you go free.”
Accordingly, the Deer came up to the house and unbolted the door from the outside, and the Tiger sprang out joyfully. As soon as he got outside he seized upon the Deer and said:
“I am very sorry for you, Sister Deer, but the fact is I am so famished that really I have no alternative but to eat you immediately.”
“This is really too bad,” replied the Deer; “after promising faithfully that you would not eat me, and after the benefit which I have conferred upon you, you should certainly keep faith with me.”
“Faith!” said the Tiger. “What is faith? I don’t believe there is any such thing as good faith.”