We lodged at a neighboring inn which placed a cicerone at our service, and proceeded to pay a visit to the celebrated monastery. Going through the front gate and past several smaller buildings, we arrived in front of the main edifice. At first sight the interior of the latter appeared to be completely enclosed, but a closer examination showed that light was let in through a courtyard. Entering the front hall, seventy-eight feet by forty-two, we saw standing on both sides statues of Vajrapani, each about twenty-five feet high, one painted blue and the other red, such as are seen on each side of the gate of every great Japanese Temple. Each image has its right leg a little bent and the left one put forward, while the right hand is raised towards the sky and the left one vigorously stretched downward. The workmanship seemed even to my lay eyes representative of Tibetan art, the muscles, for instance, being very excellently moulded. There are also images of the four heavenly kings, each thirty feet high, standing on the right side. Again, looking to the left, we saw on the wall (which was of stone over-laid with mud and then with some lime-like substance) beautiful pictures of deities and saints, which covered a space twenty-four feet by twenty-one. There is no fissure visible in the pictured area, in spite of its dimensions. The structure as a whole is in good repair. The front hall opens to an inner courtyard, paved with stone, thirty-six feet by thirty, where the priests of the inferior orders gather to dine and to read the scriptures, while the higher Lamas have the privilege of living inside the building. Passing this courtyard we entered the main chamber (which faces west) where the images of Bu??hist deities are placed. There are two entrances to this chamber, the southern one being open to the priests and the northern one to the visitors. Once inside, we were lost in a sea of dazzling gold; the splendor was simply beyond description. The ceilings and pillars are all covered with gold brocade, and the images, more than three hundred in number, are emblazoned with very fine gold. In the centre of the room there stands a statue of Shakyamuni Bu??ha, thirty-five feet high, which, we were told, is made of mud covered with gold. In front of this image are placed seven water-trays, some candle-sticks and a table for oblations, all of pure gold, with the exception of a few articles made of silver.

The disorderly manner in which the images are arranged, however, greatly detracts from the impression produced by their intrinsic merits. The spectacle is a grand exhibition of Bu??hist fine arts, but put together without much order. In short, the chief feature of the chamber consists in its splendor, but its effect is greatly impaired by the tasteless and excessive decorations.

At the rear of this chamber there is another, sixty feet high and two hundred and forty feet wide, which is full of valuable collections of ancient Bu??hist manuscripts, some written in gilded letters on dark blue-colored paper and others in Samsk?? on the leaves of the fan palm tree (Borassus flabelliformis). Many of these scriptures were brought all the way from India by the founder of the temple, Sakya Pan?i?, and his successors, who sent their priests to that country for the purpose.

With regard to the scriptures in the Tibetan language, I was told that they had a great number of them there, and that they were all written, not printed. We left this chamber, and while we were again looking round the main chamber I was struck with a strong and offensive smell which, as my subsequent experiences taught me, is a curious feature of every monastery in Tibet. I wondered how I had been insensible to such a stench up to that time. Where did it come from? you may ask. Well! in Tibetan temples clarified butter is used in lighting the lamps offered to Bu??ha, and the priests are so careless as to throw away upon the floor the residue of tea and butter, which not only keeps the floor always wet but also putrefies. This is why the chamber is filled with such a sickening odor. Strangely enough, Tibetans regard this smell as a sweet one, but I declare myself emphatically to the contrary. On both sides of the main chamber we found two more chambers where different figures were also kept. Of these images, the one which especially attracted my attention was that of Padma Chungne, the founder of the old school of Lamaism, for it is made entirely of precious stones. The surrounding walls and the floor are also inlaid with gems, which are amazingly beautiful.

Outside the main edifice there are several dormitories where some five hundred men of the order live. Then standing to the south is the stately residence of the ‘great instructor’ of the temple, Chamba Pasang Tinle, who looks after the spiritual education of five hundred souls.

We had an interview with this spiritual superior, who looked very saint-like, seated on a dais covered with two mats in one of the upper rooms. I wanted to ask him a few questions with regard to the difference between the Sakya doctrines and those of the other sects of Lamaism, but he told me that he was busy then and asked me to come again the next day. We then retired and left the temple grounds.

I noticed several palatial buildings rising above a far-off willow plantation. My companions told me that these buildings were the residence of the Abbot of the temple, Sakya Koma Rinpoche, and we proceeded to pay our respects to him. Koma Rinpoche means the ‘highest treasure’ and is used only in addressing the Chinese Emperor and the Abbot of the Sakya Monastery, whom Tibetans esteem as one of the two sacred beings of the world. This being so, the natives who are honored with an audience by the Abbot pay special respect to him, and when he gives them his blessing in return it is not infrequently accompanied by some presents. But in reality the Abbot is a layman, the essential point of his excellence being that he is the descendant of Sakya Pan?i? himself. He is married, takes meat for dinner, and even drinks wine, as do all the secular people. In spite of these facts, not only the public at large but also priests salute him with the rite of ‘three bows’ which as laid down by Bu??ha is a mark of reverence due only to high priests and not to laymen.

When we were received by the Abbot, I therefore paid him only such respect as would be due to a personage of his rank. He has, however, a very dignified mien, which bespeaks his noble descent.

While we were returning to our lodgings, I was blamed by my companions for my failure to give the Abbot the ‘three bows,’ and when I told them the reason of the omission they were astonished at my rigid observance of the Bu??ha’s teachings. The next day, when I called upon the ‘great teacher’ at the appointed hour, I found him playing with a boy who was behaving toward him in a very familiar way, as if he were his son. I could not think that such a man, who was a genuine priest, was married, and yet I very much suspected some such relation—a suspicion which was afterwards confirmed during my sojourn at Lhasa.

At first I had intended to stay and study at the temple for at least two weeks, but after this discovery I was now loath to remain with such a degenerate priest. I left the town the next day, and as I was now separated from my companions I had to carry my effects myself. For a distance of two and a half miles the road gradually ascended along a mountain rivulet in a south-easterly direction and then, turning eastwards, became a steep descent of five miles. Proceeding ten miles further in a south-easterly direction and along the stream I found two dwellings, in one of which I lodged for the night. The next day I again ascended a steep slope, two and a half miles long, and climbed down another twice that length. As the day was snowy and my baggage got wet, I was obliged to take lodgings at the first house I could find. The next day, November 30th, I fortunately met seven or eight men who seemed to be transport agents, and were driving forty or fifty asses, and I was glad to place my things in their charge. Thus freed from encumbrances, I, with the party, descended the Tharu river for five miles. It then turned to the south-east, and after proceeding fifteen miles further along the riverside, we found a village where we stopped.

The drivers, however, encamped in a neighboring meadow, where they unburdened their animals and surrounded themselves on all sides except one with the goods thus unloaded. As was customary with them, the men improvised a kind of fire-place. On the first of December we proceeded along the river for about ten miles and then left it; again for ten miles, we ascended the eastern mountain called Rangla with its perpendicular peaks of red rock. We lodged under the rock and on the following day we ascended Rangla for five miles and marched more than another five miles on the mountainous plains; we reached a big monastery named Kang-chen and passed that night in a field south of the monastery. At first, when I saw my drivers recklessly making their way through the cultivated fields, I expressed my fear to them that we might be caught by the farmers. “No,” was their reply, “you need not bother yourself on that score.” They explained to me that these fields were fallow ones, “which were enjoying their holidays” for this year, so that any person might choose them as roads. It was a custom in this locality to raise the wheat-crop every other year, leaving the fields unemployed for the intervening year—a custom which did not obtain in Lhasa and the neighborhood. Moreover, I was told, it was winter, when the privilege held good in any year, and no one need entertain any fear of intruding. At night I preached to my drivers, and the next day we set out together, taking an easterly direction. We proceeded seven and a half miles, when we found rising among the mountains a magnificent temple, still under construction. On making enquiries I learned that the work had been undertaken by the Tibetan Government, which is acting under the advice of a soothsayer.

The latter had, I was told, declared that there exists a spring just beneath the site of the building, that it is the mouth of a monstrous dragon, and that unless a temple be erected over it, it will ultimately burst out and deluge the whole country. Unfortunately this idea is supported by a book of prophecies brought from China, which is apparently the work of some priest with hidden motives. I read the book and found it to be full of awe-inspiring predictions. It states, for instance, that as wickedness obtains on the earth, a flood of water will be brought upon it and everything on the face of it destroyed; that fatal calamities, such as a great famine or war, will break out as a prelude to such a flood. In addition, it is stated that the book had been sent from heaven, and that therefore any one who is so careless as to doubt its truth will be punished with immediate death. I declared that these prophecies were all false, but of course nothing extraordinary happened to me. The book may be well meant, but it is full of nonsensical sayings. But Tibetans believe in it so firmly that translated copies are being circulated all over the country. It is most surprising that such superstitions should have led the Government to begin a foolish undertaking at a great cost. But indeed, oracle-mongers are held in high esteem, not only by the Government but also by the general mass of the people, who consult them whenever they are at fault.

Passing under the above-mentioned temple we proceeded further, and before we had gone far, we found some five vultures (known among the natives by the name of Cha-goppo) perched on a hill-side. On questioning my companions, I was told that there exists in Tibet a very curious and unpleasant custom of offering the corpses of dead men to vultures as a part of the funeral ceremony; that as in this locality the people do not bring enough carrion to these birds, the latter are always hungry; and that therefore they are granted an allowance of meat from the kitchen of a temple called the Tashi Lhunpo. How they are fed on human flesh at a funeral ceremony I shall relate later in my account of Lhasa.

After some further journeying we arrived at an “abstinence house” (Nyun ne Lhakhang in Tibetan), in the neighborhood of which there stood a temple called the Nartang. Wanting to make some enquiries, I decided to stay at this house, so that I parted company with my carriers, who proceeded towards Shigatze. This house is used both by priests and laymen for observing the ‘Eight rules of abstinence’ enjoined by the Bu??ha, or other forms of religious self-denial, such as silence or abstinence from meat. Abstinence from flesh is considered an austerity by Tibetan priests, because they eat meat, contrary to the ordinary usages of Bu??hist monks.

The next day I visited the Nartang Temple, where I inspected the most valuable of its treasures, which are immense heaps of wooden printing-blocks, comprising the collection of all the Bu??hist writings in Tibet, divided into two departments—Bu??ha’s own preachings and the works of the saints. In addition, they have an equally large number of printing-blocks for the commentaries prepared by the native Lamas. These blocks are kept in two large buildings, one of which measures about 180 feet by sixty. This temple is the sole publisher of the ‘collection of all the Bu??hist writings,’ the three hundred priests who live there being printers. I called upon the head priest of the temple, who had been specially sent from the Tashi Lhunpo Temple, and found him very clever in conversation. The interview was at once very instructive and agreeable to me, for the priest not only gave me valuable information on Bu??hism but also accorded me cordial treatment.