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 Panḍiṭ 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 Buḍḍha 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 Buḍḍha’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 Buḍḍha, 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 Buḍḍhist 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 Buḍḍhist writings in Tibet, divided into two departments—Buḍḍha’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 Buḍḍhist 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 Buḍḍhism but also accorded me cordial treatment.