Throughout the night they indulged themselves in a carouse, which was enlivened by the attendance of several girls. During the next day, November 23rd, I was still staying with the rest of our party at the caravanserai, but as I was to part company with them on the 24th I read the gospel of Hokekyo, as a mark of appreciation of the kindness accorded to me by them throughout my journey with them. When the date of my departure came, the head Lama gave me ten tankas as a reward for my lectures on Tibetan grammar, while the rest of the party also collected among themselves a certain sum of money which they presented to me. A few of the party were to accompany me, for the Lama, with the junior Lama and a servant, decided to go with me, so that I was not alone on my road. We then set out, taking the road leading to the grand Sakya monastery. As for the men of the caravan, they were to proceed to Shigatze through Puntso-ling by the highway. Besides kindly carrying my personal effects together with their own, the senior Lama and party offered me the use of one of their horses, so that my trip with them was a very comfortable one.
We proceeded in a southerly direction, and for a distance of five miles our way passed through wheat-fields, the soil of which appeared to be very rich. Of all the districts in Tibet, Lharche can supply barley, wheat, beans, and butter at the lowest possible prices, which testified to the position held by it with regard to agricultural products. We then ascended a rapid slope for another five miles, again traversed cultivated fields for about eleven miles, going in a south-easterly direction, and reached a hamlet called Rendah. The next day, after we had proceeded along a river for some eighteen miles, we saw before us the imposing monastery of Sakya, which was surrounded by high stone walls of about two hundred and twenty yards square, twenty feet high and six feet thick. All the structures were of stone, painted white, and the main edifice alone measured sixty feet in height, two hundred feet from east to west, and two hundred and forty feet from south to north. Over the walls, which were bow-shaped, rose a dark-colored castle, crowned with Saisho-doban (the victorious Standard of Buḍḍhism), and rodai (the disc for the dew of nectar) of dazzling gold. The spectacle was sublime and impressive, at least so far as outward appearances were concerned.
[CHAPTER XL.]
The Sakya Monastery.
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 Vajrapāni, 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 Buḍḍhist 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 Shākyamuni Buḍḍha, 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 Buḍḍhist 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 Buḍḍhist manuscripts, some written in gilded letters on dark blue-colored paper and others in Samskṛṭ 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 Panḍiṭ, 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 Buḍḍha, 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.