Through Unknown Tibet

by M. S. Wellby

We now entered the "Gold-Tiled Temple," the chief feature of the place, and the pride of Eastern Tibet, the sacred shrine of Tsong K'aba, the restorer and purifier of the Buddhist religion. Born in the year 1360 a.d., he grew up to find the Buddhism of his day in a very corrupt and degenerate state; he devoted his life to rectifying this, and succeeded in re-establishing the old order of things in accordance with the original doctrines of the faith. He was the founder of what is known as the "Yellow Sect," who wore yellow garments in place of red, but nowadays they have reverted to the red cloak, except on rare occasions, though they always wear a big yellow hat when reading the sacred books.

Before the entrance to the shrine there were a few lamas busily kotowing, and the boards in front of the doorway have been worn away to a depth of three or four inches, and polished till they shine again by the hands of the devout, as they knock their heads before the image of the saint. Most of these lamas knew Mr. Rijnhart, and stopped a moment or two in their devotions to speak a word of welcome to us, and one of the door-keepers asked us why we did not knock our heads before entering? To this Rijnhart replied that this would be no sign of respect on our part, as our custom was to remove our hats on entering a sacred place, nor did we ever omit to do so.

On entering the door, the figure of Tsong K'aba, who is in a sitting position, is considerably above one, and not easily seen in the dim, religious light. It is about eight feet high, I should say, and very richly gilt. Below and in front of him is the shrine, with the usual holy water vases and butter lamps, while on either side are handsome gold and silver lamps, and a fine pair of elephant tusks. We lit a few lamps, and then walked slowly round the building, carefully keeping everything on the right hand.

Next in interest to the golden image among the relics in this temple, comes the stone on which Tsong K'aba's mother sat when delivered of her saintly son. This is carefully kept just as it was when originally placed in the temple. We then went upstairs to the second story, where we would be on a level with the great image; at first, one of the guardians refused to allow us to ascend, but Rijnhart assured him that we meant no harm, and that we had Mina Fu-yeh's permission to go where we would. Somewhat reluctantly he gave way, but a small douceur on our departure made him look on foreigners with more favourable eyes. This story was entirely devoted to Tsong K'aba's figure, in front of which lamps were burning, while hundreds of "scarves of blessing" (k'artag) hung all round, placed there by the hands of the faithful. There was yet another story, from which we looked down on to the lower portion of the gilded roof. The priests say that there is a quarter of an inch of gold all over the roof, but even deducting a great deal from this, it must be of immense value, and one could not help wondering how it had escaped two Mohammedan rebellions in the last thirty years. One would have thought that they would have risked everything to secure such loot, and to deal such a blow to the rival religion as the sacking of this temple would be.

From the Gold-Tiled Temple we passed into a big courtyard, which lies in front of the temple or hall for public reading. This is merely a large hall, without relics or shrines. In the courtyard are two very big prayer wheels, which one turns with a handle. At each revolution a bell is rung mechanically, and, after ringing the bell, the turner is bound to complete another revolution, stopping just before it rings again.

From the public reading-hall we went into that for private reading—a fine room, with rows of low forms about six inches high, comfortably cushioned, and big enough to hold about 2,500 priests. In front of this is another courtyard, in which, we were told, it is no unusual sight to see 1,200 or 1,500 pairs of shoes, belonging to students inside. How any one can find his own when he comes out is a mystery.

In an upper room in this block of buildings is a collection of curios and other property belonging to the monastery, quantities of silver vases, lamps, and musical instruments, but by far the most interesting thing, and what we were most anxious to see, is a picture of Tsong K'aba, drawn by himself in his own blood. When he was at Lhassa he was anxious to send his mother news of his well-being, so he drew this picture and sent it to Amdo, where she was living. The moment it was delivered into her hands the picture spoke, telling her not to be anxious about her son, for he was in Lhassa, and in perfect health. This occurred over 400 years ago, but the picture is in wonderful preservation, and very fresh.

There is another interesting figure of one Mété Fu-yeh. This is made in mud, and, like the picture of Tsong K'aba, it is under glass. Some time after its completion, by some miraculous power, hair grew on the head of the saint. He must have been a holy man, indeed, to have been favoured with such a manifestation of divine power. Here, as elsewhere, we gave the caretakers a few cash and lit a few lamps, small civilities which never failed in securing us their goodwill, and in return for which they showed us any attention in their power.