History of Indian and Eastern Architecture

by James Fergusson

Thibet.

It would be extremely interesting if, before leaving this part of the world, it were possible to compile anything like a satisfactory account of the Buddhist style in Thibet, for it is there that Buddhism exists in its greatest purity at the present moment, and there only is it entirely and essentially a part of the system of the people. We would gladly, therefore, compare the existing state of things in Thibet with our accounts of India in the days of the supremacy of the same religion. The jealousy of the Chinese, however, who are now supreme over that nation of priests, prevents free access to the country, and those who have penetrated beyond its forbidden barriers have either done so in the disguise of mendicants, and, consequently, dared neither to draw nor examine minutely what they saw, or else had little taste for portraying what was unintelligible, and, consequently, of very little interest to them.[341]

So far as can be made out from such narratives as we have, there does not seem to be in Thibet a single relic-shrine remarkable either for sanctity or size, nor does relic-worship seem to be expressed either in their architecture or their religious forms. But as no country in the world possesses a larger body of priests in proportion to its population, and as all these are vowed to celibacy and live together, their monasteries are more extensive than any we know of elsewhere—some containing 2000 or 3000 lamas, some, if we may trust M. Huc, as many as 15,000.[342] The monasteries do not seem to be built with any regularity, or to be grouped into combinations of any architectural pretension, but to consist of long streets of cells, mostly surrounding small courtyards, three or four on each side, and sometimes two or even three storeys high; generally, perhaps always, with a small shrine or altar in the centre. The monastery of Bouddha La, outside the city of Lassa, where the Delai Lama resides, seems to be of more magnificence than all the rest—the centre being occupied by a building four storeys high, crowned by a dome (making the fifth) covered entirely with sheets of gold (rather, perhaps, merely gilt), and surrounded by a peristyle of columns, which are gilt also. Around this central palace are grouped a number of smaller ones, where the inferior members of this great ecclesiastical order reside; but of all this it is difficult to form a distinct idea without some better drawings than the native ones, which are at present alone available.

The Delai Lama, who resides in this palace, is believed by the Thibetans to be the living incarnation of the Deity, and, in consequence, is the principal, if not the only, object of worship in Lassa. There are, however, four or five subordinate incarnations in different parts of Thibet and Mongolia, who, though inferior to this one, are still objects of worship in the places where they reside, and by particular sects of Buddhists.

It is this worship of a living rather than of a dead deity that seems to be the principal cause of the difference of the architectural forms of India and Thibet. In the countries we have hitherto been describing no actual incarnation of the Deity is believed to have taken place since the death of Sakya Muni, though the spirit of God has descended on many saints and holy men; in India, therefore, they have been content to worship images of the departed deity, or relics which recall His presence. In Thibet, where their deity is still present among them, continually transmigrating, but never dying, of course such a form of worship would be absurd; no relic of a still living god can exist, nor is the semblance or the memory of any past manifestation thought worth preserving. A priori, therefore, we should scarcely look here for the same class of sacred edifices as we find in India or Ceylon.

Owing to the jealousy with which the country is guarded against the intrusion of Europeans, we may probably have to wait some time before Thibet itself, or even the valleys dependent upon it in the Himalayas, are so accessible to European travellers as to enable them to supply the data requisite for the purpose. In the meanwhile, however, the view ([Woodcut No. 176]) of the doorway of the temple at Tassiding is curious as showing a perseverance in the employment of sloping jambs, which we do not meet with in the plains. It will be recollected that this feature is nearly universal in the Behar and early western caves (Woodcuts Nos. 43, 45, and 50), but there we lose it. It may have continued to be commonly employed during the Middle Ages, though the examples have perished; but it is curious to find it cropping up here again after a lapse of 2000 years.[343]

176. Doorway of the Temple at Tassiding. (From Dr. Hooker’s ‘Himalayan Journals.’)

Another view in the porch of the temple at Pemiongchi is also interesting, as showing the form of roof which we are familiar with in the rock examples, and also as illustrating the extent to which the bracket capital of India may be carried under the influence of wooden architecture ([Woodcut No. 177]). It hardly seems doubtful that the idea was originally derived from wooden construction, but was equally appropriate to masonic forms, and is used in masonry so judiciously by Indian architects that we lose sight of its origin in most instances altogether.