Monasteries and Temples

Monasteries and Temples.

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Buddhist monasteries deserve a fuller notice than the incidental allusions we have made to them in previous Lectures.

The duty of dwelling under trees, and not in houses, according to the example set by all the Buddhas (see p. 136), and especially by Gautama Buddha himself, during his long course of meditation (see p. 31), was in theory supposed to be binding on all true monks. ‘The root of a tree for an abode’ was one of ‘the four Resources,’ of which every monk was allowed to avail himself, and the enumeration of which formed part of the admission-ceremonies (see p. 80).

At the same time certain dispensations or indulgences were specially granted at those ceremonies, one of which was permission to live in covered residences, when not itinerating. The five kinds of dwellings permissible under varying circumstances are described in Ćulla-vagga (VI. 1, 2). They are Vihāras (monasteries), Aḍḍhayogas (i. e. houses of a peculiar shape), storied dwellings (prāsāda)[221], mansions (harmya), and caves (see note, p. 81 of this volume).

It is clear that any painful exposure of the body to 427 the violent storms of India was incompatible with one of the principles of Buddhism, which, though it taught self-denial and self-sacrifice of a particular kind, deprecated all personal self-inflicted pain and austerity.

Yet it appears (from Mahā-vagga, III. 15) that at the time of his first residence at Rāja-gṛiha (see p. 29 of these Lectures), the Buddha had not yet instituted ‘the Retreat’ during the rains (Vassa). Hence the monks were in the habit of going on their travels alike during winter, summer, and the rainy season.

The people complained of this, and said that the monks in walking about during wet weather were unable to avoid crushing vegetable life and treading on minute living things. Thereupon the Buddha prescribed that the monks were to keep ‘Vassa,’ and refrain from peregrination during the rains.

Soon afterwards, when the Buddha had left Rāja-gṛiha and had taken up his abode during Vassa in the Jeta-vana garden at Sāvatthī (see p. 407), a wealthy and pious layman (Upāsaka) who had built a monastery (Vihāra) for the monks, sent to invite them to reside in it, saying that he wished to hear them recite the Law and to bestow gifts upon them. The Buddha permitted them to go, but required them to return in seven days. He gave the same permission when another rich and pious layman had provided other residences and conveniences for the monks, such as a storied house, a mansion, a store-room, a cave, a refectory, a bathing room, a well-house, a pavilion, a park, etc.

On the other hand, when, on a particular occasion, a monk wished to keep Vassa in a cattle-pen (Mahā-vagga, 428 III. 12) the Buddha permitted him to do so. So, again, on another occasion he allowed a man to keep Vassa in a caravan, and on a third occasion in a covered boat or ship. But it is recorded that he prohibited Vassa from being kept in the open air, or in the hollow of trees[222] (see Mahā-vagga, III. 12, 3).

It is evident from all this, that even in the early days of Buddhism, rich laymen were in the habit of seeking to acquire religious merit by providing comfortable habitations for the monks; and although at first the use of such luxuries was only permitted in the rainy season, this restriction was soon removed, and a residence in covered dwellings became usual at all seasons of the year.

Then, as Buddhism spread, kings, princes, and rich men competed with each other for the privilege of erecting vast monasteries—sometimes called Vihāras[223], sometimes Saṅghārāmas—to which temples, libraries, and schools were generally attached, and in which dwelt wealthy communities of monks, who were allowed to hold property in land.

The founding of extensive and important institutions of this kind was, of course, an exceptional proceeding. As a general rule, collections of monastic dwellings were of a simple and unostentatious character. In various parts of India are to be seen in the present day ancient Buddhist cave-monasteries now untenanted, some of 429 them—such as the caves of Barābar—as old as the third century B.C.

I myself visited those at Elorā (Elurā), twelve miles from Aurangābād in the Nizām’s territory, as well as others at Nāsik, Kārle, and other places. The Elorā caves are possibly as old as the third century[224], and with the adjoining Brāhmanical and Jain caves of later date, extend for one mile and a quarter along the scarp of an elevated plateau. The three groups of caves rival each other in the beauty and interest of their sculptures, and together constitute one of the wonders of India—their position side by side proving that the adherents of the three systems lived together in harmony. Among the Buddhist caves are beautiful ‘Ćaityas’ or halls for general worship (see p. 450), refectories for commensality, and cells without number for the habitation of the monks. All the excavations had become partially filled up; but the visit of the Prince of Wales in 1876 stimulated the Nizām’s government to clear away the dust and rubbish of centuries.

Then, besides cave-monasteries, the ruins of extensive monastic establishments built of brick, stone, or other less durable materials, are scattered everywhere throughout India.

Those of the vast monastery of Nālanda near Rāja-gṛiha, and others at various other sacred places, have been already described (see p. 412).

Turning next to the monastic structures of modern Buddhist countries, and beginning with Ceylon, we find 430 that in that island, as Spence Hardy has pointed out, and as I myself observed during my sojourn there, the residences of the monks are of very simple construction, and often extremely mean in appearance. They are called Pān-sālās (Paṇṇa-ṡālā = Sanskṛit Parṇa-ṡālā) because supposed to be made of leaves. In general, however, they are constructed of wattle filled up with mud, the roof being covered with straw, or with the platted leaves of the cocoa-nut. They are always dirty and always abound in cobwebs.

A monastery which I saw near Kandy consisted of an oblong rectangular court-yard, surrounded in the interior by a kind of roofed cloister or verandah, out of which opened the monks’ cells, lighted only from the sky above the court. The interior walls of both cloister and cells were begrimed with patches of dirt and masses of cobwebs, which are never touched for fear of breaking the first Buddhist commandment, ‘kill not’ (p. 126).

Of course there are monasteries of a better and more imposing type, such as that attached to the Māligāwa temple of the sacred eye-tooth on the Kandy lake (see p. 454).

In Burma the ordinary residences of the monks appear to be simple in character, like those in Ceylon. In Siam, on the contrary, they are sometimes elaborate, and often have richly-covered entrances. At the same time the Siamese monks (according to Mr. Alabaster) are in the habit of itinerating a good deal, only remaining in their monasteries during the three months of rains, when residence there is imperative.

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Speaking of the larger and more imposing monasteries (Kyoung) in Burma, Mr. Scott says (I give his account in an abbreviated form):—

The monasteries are built of teak, or, sometimes in Mandalay and Lower Burma, of brick. The shape is always oblong, and the inhabited portion is raised on posts and pillars, eight or ten feet above the ground. They are, like all the other houses in the country, only one story high; for if it is an indignity to a layman to have anyone’s feet over his head[225], it is much more so to a member of the brotherhood. The space between the ground and the floor is always kept open, and is never used except by the monastery school-boys. A flight of steps of stone or wood leads up to the verandah, which extends along the north and south sides, and frequently all round. From the raised floor thus reached, rises the building, with tier upon tier of massive roofs (in diminishing stages), giving the appearance of many stories when there is only one. The accommodation is simple. It consists in the main of a central hall divided into two portions, one level with the verandah where the scholars are taught, and most of the duties of the monastery carried on, and the other a dais, raised about two feet above the level of the rest of the building. Seated upon this, the monks are accustomed to receive visitors, and at the back, against the wall, are arranged the images of Buddha, a large one usually standing in the centre on a kind of altar, with candles, flowers, praying flags, and other offerings placed before it. On shelves alongside are a number of smaller figures of gold, silver, alabaster, clay or wood, according to the popularity of the monastery, and the religious character of the neighbourhood. Occasionally there are dormitories for the monks, but as a rule they sleep in the central hall, where the mats which form their beds may be seen rolled up against the wall. The whole area of the extensive compound in which the monastery stands is enclosed 432 by a heavy teak fence with massive posts and rails, seven or eight feet high. The laity, when they enter, take off their shoes and carry them in their hands. This rule applies to the highest in the land.

The daily life of the monks inhabiting monasteries of this kind in Burma has been already described (see pp. 311-314 of these Lectures).

If we now pass to northern Buddhist countries we shall find that, as a general rule, the dwellings of monks are insignificant tenements of poor construction, attached to or built round small chapels or shrines. Sometimes the monks live in the rooms built over such chapels.

Sir Richard Temple (Journal, ii. 207) visited a so-called monastery at Pemyangchi (in Sikkim), which consisted of a single building with two stories. In the upper some of the monks resided, and a chapel formed the lower.

The temple-monastery I myself visited in British Sikkim, near Dārjīling, is similar. The exterior appearance might be compared to that of some small Dissenting chapel in an English village. The thatched roof, which once gave it a picturesque appearance, has recently been removed, and a roof of modern construction substituted. The shrine or temple is on the ground floor, while the upper floor is the abode of the attendant priests, and seems also to serve as a store-room with cupboards for their equipments. The contents of the ground-floor temple, with its altar at the further end and shelves for the sacred books on one side, are very indistinctly seen, being only lighted up by a ‘dim religious light,’ when the door is kept wide open. I noticed three images on the altar.

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The case is different when large numbers of monks congregate in particular places. In some districts of Ladāk, Mongolia and Tibet, monasteries (or Lāmaseries as they are sometimes called) have been erected, which for vastness, magnificence, and grandeur of situation amid splendid scenery, are unequalled in any part of the world.

According to strict rule, retired localities should be chosen. Hence large monastic establishments are often found in solitary places[226] and elevated situations; for instance, in Ladāk those at Lāma Yurru and Hemis are more than 11,000 feet above the sea, and that at Hanle is 14,000 feet. They resemble romantic castles towering upwards in the midst of rocks, crags, and snowy mountains.

Another monastery at Kīlang (Kyelang), in the British Tibetan province of Lahūl (contiguous to Ladāk), stands on the spur of a mountain, at an elevation of 12,000 feet, and is approached through grand ravines and glaciers, so that occasionally, after snow-storms, those who pass to and fro are buried in avalanches.

The outer walls of large monasteries of this kind in secluded situations are generally lofty. Often they are made of stone or brick, plastered with mud and surmounted with little pinnacles and poles, on which are prayer-flags. Within the walls are cells for the monks, the abode of the Head or Abbot, a room for holding books, a temple, an assembly-hall, a refectory, store-houses, receptacles for musical instruments, masks, 434 staves, etc.; the buildings being often arranged in rows, and always intermixed with Stūpas (see p. 504) and monuments. The walls of the vestibules and of the great hall are usually ornamented with fresco-paintings, representing subjects from the Buddhist Jātakas (p. 111). Generally there are corridors or covered cloisters lined with prayer-wheels, or open walks paved with stone, called in Sanskṛit Ćankramaṇa (Pāli, Ćankamana), for the monks to perambulate up and down in meditation. These are supposed to be constructed after the pattern of the stone walking-places used by the Buddha himself (see p. 400).

In the monastery at Kīlang the roof of the great hall is supported by massive beams garnished with belts, swords, yaks’ tails, huge and terrible masks, and all sorts of odds and ends. On one side is a huge praying-wheel, on each revolution of which a bell is struck. A dim subdued light pervades the entire hall, exaggerating the ghastly hideousness of the figures[227].

To take as another instance—the monastery or Lāmasery of Kunbum (or Kumbum) north of Tibet, celebrated as the birth-place of Tsong Khapa (p. 277), and situated, according to M. Huc, on a mountain intersected by a broad and deep ravine:—

On either side of the ravine, and up the slopes of the mountain, rise, in amphitheatrical curves, the white dwellings of the Lāmas, each with its little terrace and enclosing wall, while here and there above them ‘tower the temples, with their gilt roofs glittering with a thousand colours.’ The houses of the superior monks are distinguished by pennants, floating above small hexagonal turrets, while 435 those of the ordinary monks are simple cells. On all sides mystical sentences, in the Tibetan character, meet the eye (see p. 381), some inscribed on doors, some on walls and stones, or on linen flags fixed on poles.

Almost everywhere are conical vessels, in which incense and odoriferous wood are burning; while numbers of Lāmas circulate through the streets of the monastery in their red and yellow dresses—grave in their deportment, and, although under no obligation to silence, speaking little, and that little in a low voice.

This Lāmasery of Kunbum enjoys so great a reputation, that the worshippers of Buddha make pilgrimages to it from all parts of Mongolia, Tartary, and Tibet, and on the occasion of great festivals the confluence of strangers is immense. It is much frequented by Eastern Tibetans.

Near Kunbum is a much smaller monastery, devoted to the study of medicine. It is at the foot of a rocky mountain, on the heights of which dwell certain contemplative monks. M. Huc saw one of these hermits, who never communicated with the outer world except for food, which he drew up to his rocky cell by the help of a bag tied to a long rope (ii. 73).

Some mention should also be made of the monasteries at Kuku khotun, ‘the blue city’ in Tartary. That town contains no less than five great Lāmaseries and fifteen affiliated monasteries, with a grand total of 20,000 Lāmas dwelling in them. The chief monastery is that of the ‘Five Towers’—not to be confounded with one of the same name in the Chinese province of Shan si.

This latter is a celebrated place for burials (see p. 370), and pilgrims may there be edified by a sight of the Buddha’s shadow impressed on a rock.

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Another example of a monastery in a remote situation is that of Kurun or Kuren (see p. 295), situated on the slope of a mountain in Mongolia. In this celebrated monastery of the Grand Lāma Tāranātha 30,000 Lāmas (according to M. Huc) are lodged and supported.

The plain at the foot of the mountain is constantly covered with tents of various sizes for the convenience of pilgrims. Hither throng the worshippers of Buddha from the most remote countries.

Viewed from a distance, the white cells of the Lāmas, built on the declivity in horizontal lines one above the other, resemble the steps of an enormous altar, of which the temple of the Tāranātha Lāma appears to constitute (in Roman Catholic phraseology) ‘the tabernacle.’ In this country Tāranātha is the saint par excellence, and there is not a Tartar Khalka who does not take a pride in calling himself his disciple.

Passing on now to Tibet, we find that in its principal provinces the number of monastic institutions connected with its two respective capitals of Lhāssa and Tashi Lunpo, is more than a thousand, with 491,242 Lāmas. This is the estimate of the latest traveller[228].

According to Huc, more than thirty large monasteries may be reckoned in the neighbourhood of Lhāssa alone.

Adverting for a moment to Lhāssa itself, we may note that this ‘city of the gods’—the chief town of the province of U, situated on the Ki-ćhu river[229]—had in 1854 about 15,000 inhabitants within a circumference of two-and-a-half miles. According to a Chinese proverb, its chief inmates have always been ‘priests, women, and dogs.’ Koeppen affirms that Lhāssa has always been a greater nest of monk-priests than Rome has ever been.

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Doubtless its population is now increased, and includes a considerable proportion of laymen; yet, in all likelihood, at least two-thirds of the inhabitants are monks; and it cannot be too often repeated that, according to the true theory of Buddhism, the only raison d’être of the laity is to wait upon the monkhood.

Moreover, Lhāssa, next to Benares and Mecca, is, perhaps, the most frequented place of pilgrimage upon earth. Scarcely a day passes on which the streets do not overflow with crowds of pilgrims—some from every quarter of Tibet, some from Bhutān and other Himālayan regions, some from all parts of Mongolia. All meet here to worship the incarnated representative of the Bodhi-sattva (Avalokiteṡvara) manifested in the Dalai Lāma—to receive his blessing, his consecrated pills, and his prayer-papers (see p. 331 of these Lectures). The residence of this Lāmistic Pope is at Potala.

In fact Potala on the north-west side of Lhāssa is what the Vatican is to Rome. It existed in ancient times as a palace, but was rebuilt and converted into a palace-monastery by the celebrated fifth Dalai Lāma Navang Lobsang, A.D. 1617-1682 (p. 292 of this volume), and from that time forward became the residence of all the Dalai Lāmas, who had before lived either at Sera or at Brepung (Dapung, see p. 442).

In its striking and unique position, it is even more imposing than the Vatican.

Imagine a lofty structure erected on an isolated hill[230], 438 rising abruptly from the plain with three long summits or eminences, and watered at the base by the Ki-ćhu river, which flows into the great Tsanpo. The south-western ridge is the so-called Iron-hill, on which is a monastery where Tsong Khapa himself is said to have taught. The north-eastern bears the name of the Phagmo hill[231], while the highest is the hill of Potala, with its palace-monastery towering in four stories to the height of about 367 feet, and ending in a cupola covered with plates of pure gold.

From this vantage ground the incarnated Bodhi-sattva looks down on the crowds of pilgrims approaching to worship him, or kneeling at the foot of the hill. The buildings grouped in the vicinity are said to contain 10,000 rooms, for the accommodation of as many monks. Countless are the statues of Buddha, with other idols and images of saints, not to mention obelisks and pyramidal monuments, which meet the eye everywhere. All sacred objects are manufactured out of gold, silver, or copper, according to the wealth of those who have brought them as offerings. Two ascending avenues lead up from Lhāssa to Potala, which are constantly thronged with foreign pilgrims, troops of Lāmas in official vestments, 439 higher Lāmas and courtiers in full uniform. Yet we are told that a solemn religious silence prevails, for the thoughts of all are fixed in meditation.

I have already given an abstract of Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās’ narrative of his visit to Potala, and his presentation to the Dalai Lāma on June 10, 1882 (see p. 331 of these Lectures). I now add an account of Mr. Thomas Manning’s interview with the Dalai Lāma on December 17, 1811. No European, except Mr. Manning[232], has ever set eyes on a Dalai Lāma, and no other Englishman has ever seen Lhāssa (for M. Huc was misinformed; Moorcroft was never there):—

We rode to the foot of the mountain on which the palace is built, or out of which, rather, it seems to grow; but having ascended a few paces to a platform, were obliged to dismount. From here to the hall where the Grand Lāma receives visitors is a long and tedious ascent. It consists of about four hundred steps, partly stone steps in the rocky mountain, and the rest mere ladders from story to story in the palace. Besides this, from interval to interval along the mountain, wherever the ascent is easy, there are stretches interspersed, where the path continues for several paces together without steps. At length we arrived at the large platform on which is built the hall of reception. There we rested awhile, arranged the presents, and conferred with the Lāma’s Chinese interpreter.

The Tí-mu-fu was in the hall with the Grand Lāma. I was not informed of this until I entered, which occasioned me some confusion. I did not know how much ceremony to go through with one, before I began with the other. I made the due obeisance, touching the ground three times with my head to the Grand Lāma, and once to the Tí-mu-fu. I presented my gifts, delivering the coin and the handsome silk scarf with my own hands into the hands of the Grand Lāma. I then took off my hat, and humbly gave him my clean-shaven head to 440 lay his hands upon. The ceremony of presentation being over, the Munshī and I sat down on two cushions not far from the Lāma’s throne, and had tea brought to us. It was most excellent, and I meant to have emptied the cup, but it was whipped away suddenly, before I was aware of it. The Lāma’s beautiful and interesting face and manner engrossed almost all my attention. He was at that time about seven years old; and had the simple and unaffected manners of a well-educated princely child. His face was, I thought, poetically and affectingly beautiful. He was of a gay and cheerful disposition; his beautiful mouth perpetually unbending into a graceful smile, which illuminated his whole countenance. Sometimes, particularly when he had looked at me, his smile approached to a gentle laugh. No doubt my grim beard and spectacles somewhat excited his risibility. He inquired whether I had not met with molestation and difficulties on the road; to which I promptly returned the proper answer. A present of dried fruit was brought and set before me, and then we withdrew. (Mr. Clements Markham’s Tibet, p. 264, abridged.)

As to the monasteries grouped around this Vatican of Lāmistic Buddhism, we may make special mention of four, noting a few particulars.

To begin with the oldest monastery, that of Lā brang, said to mean ‘abode of Lāmas[233],’ which was built by King Srong Tsan Gampo (see p. 271 of this volume), and founded in the seventh century. This ancient institution is in the very centre of Lhāssa, and is regarded as the centre of the whole country. All the main roads of Tibet converge towards it. Doubtless the area of the monastery has been enlarged by occasional additions in the course of one thousand years, but not since it was partly rebuilt and restored in the seventeenth century. Its magnificent temple (Cho Khang) is the St. Peter’s of Lāmism (see p. 459).

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The immense number of monks inhabiting this monastery is proved by the fact that a huge cauldron is shown which holds more than 1200 gallons of tea for the Lāmas who perform the daily services.

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The other three monasteries near Potala and Lā brang, according to Koeppen, are devoted to the study of magic and the art of exorcising. We may take them in the following order:—

First, at a short distance north of Lā brang, stands the monastery Ramoćhe, ‘the great enclosure,’ which was the other ancient monastery built by Srong Tsan Gampo, or by one of his wives (see p. 271). It is now a great school of exorcism, and has a celebrated temple (see pp. 462, 463), containing the celebrated image of the Buddha, and also one of Nanda, Gautama’s step-brother and disciple. Those who study here may gain the decree of ‘Doctor of Magic.’

Next comes the monastery of Moru (or Muru or Meru), close to the city. It is noted for its order and cleanliness, and for its printing-press. Like the last, it contains a school for instruction in magic.

Then, at a short distance east of Lā brang (according to Koeppen), is the monastery of Gar Ma Khian—the mother monastery of soothsayers, fortune-tellers, and exorcisers (Ćhos-kyong, see p. 266).

Let us next turn to the three ancient ‘mother-monasteries’ of the Yellow sect—Galdan, Sera, and Dapung.

Galdan (or Gahdan), the ‘heaven of contented beings’ (Sanskṛit Tushita, see pp. 207, 213)—the oldest monastery of the Yellow sect—is situated on the hill of the 442 same name, about thirty miles[234] east of Lhāssa. As already stated (pp. 278, 294), it was founded by Tsong Khapa A.D. 1409. It is three-quarters of a mile in circumference, and has 3300 monks.

Sera, ‘the golden,’ founded by Tsong Khapa (p. 278), or by one of his disciples immediately after his death, lies about three miles north of Lhāssa, on a declivity of a hill, over which passes the road leading to Mongolia. It has 5500 monks, and numerous temples, towers, and houses curving round like an amphitheatre. On the hills above the town are rows of cells of contemplative monks and recluses.

Sera has three great temples several stories high, the halls of which are richly gilded. In one temple the staff of Gautama Buddha is preserved.

Dapung (variously Dapuṅ, Depung, Debung, Debang, Brepung, Brebung, Prebung), ‘rice-heap,’ so called from the shape of the hill, was also founded by Tsong Khapa three years before Sera, and is situated four miles west of the city of Lhāssa. It has 7700 monks. The great temple in the middle is surrounded by four small ones. One of these four belongs to the exorcisers and professors of magical arts, of whom there are nearly three hundred. In the centre of the monastery is a residence for the Dalai Lāma, when he pays his annual visit. Numbers of foreigners study here, especially Mongolians. In front of the monastery stands a Stūpa, which contains the bones of the fourth Dalai Lāma, Jon Tan Yam Thso, who was of a Mongolian family.

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Mr. Edgar (Report, p. 41) mentions four other monasteries of the Yellow sect around Lhāssa, Chemiling, Tengiling, Chechuling, and Kenduling[235]. The last is said to be the residence of the Regent (p. 286 of these Lectures). Sarat Chandra Dās gives a long list of monasteries, some containing 5000 monks (e.g. Rnam rgyal grvatsang, Gongdkar rDorjegdan, etc.) and some 7000.

We have next to describe the great monastery of the second Grand Lāma of Tibetan Buddhism—I mean that at Tashi Lunpo, also belonging to the Yellow sect.

Tashi Lunpo, near Shigatse, is the seat of government of the Tashi Lāma or Panchen Lāma (see p. 284 of these Lectures), and the second metropolis of Lāmistic Buddhism. Our knowledge of this celebrated place is derived from the record of the journeys of Mr. Bogle and Captain Turner, as well as from the narratives of Indian explorers.

According to some of these authorities, Tashi Lunpo is situated about 140 English miles in a nearly westerly direction from Lhāssa. It is built on a level plain enclosed on all sides by rocky hills, through which a small river (the Painam) rushes into the great Tsanpo (Brahma-putra). The monastery is said to have been built by the first Dalai Lāma, Gedun grub pa, in 1445 (see p. 291 of these Lectures), though the final seat of the Dalai Lāmas was at Lhāssa.

According to Koeppen four roads meet at Tashi 444 Lunpo; one leading to Lhāssa, one to Ladāk, one to Nepāl, and one to Bhutān.

Near at hand, on the north-east side of the Tashi Lunpo monastery, on a rocky eminence protecting it from the cold winds, stands the fort of Shigatse (also written Shigatze), which, with its surrounding houses, forms the capital of the province of Tsang, just as Lhāssa constitutes that of the province of U.

Our fellow countryman, Mr. Bogle, commissioned by Warren Hastings to open communications between Bengal and Tibet, arrived at Tashi Lunpo in 1774. His description of it is to the following effect. I give it abbreviated (from Mr. Clements Markham’s Tibet):—

We passed by the foot of Tashi Lunpo, which is built on the lower declivity of a steep hill. The roof of the palace is all of copper-gilt. The building is of dark-coloured brick. The houses of the town rise one above another. Four churches with gilt ornaments are mixed with them. Altogether the town presents a princely appearance. Many of the courts are spacious, flagged with stone, and have galleries running round them. The alleys, which are likewise paved, are narrow. The palace is appropriated to the Lāma and his officers, to temples, granaries, warehouses, etc. The rest of the town is entirely inhabited by priests, who are in number about four thousand.

The following is the substance of Mr. Bogle’s account of his interview with the Tashi Lāma on November 8, 1774 (abbreviated from Markham’s Tibet):—

In the afternoon I had my first audience of the Tashi Lāma. He is about forty years of age, of low stature, and inclining to be fat. His complexion is fairer than that of most Tibetans, and his arms are as white as those of a European; his hair, which is jet black, is cut very short; his eyes are small and black. The expression of his countenance is smiling and good-humoured. He was upon his throne, formed 445 of wood carved and gilt, with some cushions above it, upon which he sat with his legs folded under him. He was dressed in a mitre-shaped cap of yellow broadcloth, with long bars lined with red satin, a yellow cloth jacket without sleeves, and a satin mantle of the same colour thrown over his shoulders. On one side of him stood his physician, with a bundle of perfumed sandal-wood rods burning in his hand; on the other stood his cup-bearer. I laid the Governor’s presents before him, delivering the letter and the pearl necklace into his own hands, together with a white handkerchief on my own part, according to the custom of the country. He received me in the most engaging manner. I was seated on a high stool covered with a carpet. Plates of boiled mutton, boiled rice, dried fruits, sweetmeats, sugar, bundles of tea, dried sheep’s carcases, etc., were set before me and my companion, Mr. Hamilton. The Lāma drank two or three dishes of tea with us, but without saying any grace, asked us once or twice to eat, and on our retiring threw white handkerchiefs over our necks. After two or three visits, he used to receive me without any ceremony, his head uncovered, and dressed only in the large red petticoat worn by all full monks, red boots, a yellow cloth vest, with his arms bare, and a piece of coarse yellow cloth thrown across his shoulders. He sat sometimes in a chair, sometimes on a bench covered with tiger-skins, and nobody but the cup-bearer present. Sometimes he would walk with me about the room, explain the pictures, or make some remarks upon the colour of my eyes, etc. For, although venerated as God’s vicegerent through all the eastern countries of Asia, and endowed with a portion of omniscience and with many other divine attributes, he throws aside in conversation all the awful part of his character, accommodates himself to the weakness of mortals, endeavours to make himself loved rather than feared, and behaves with the greatest affability to everybody, particularly to strangers.

In 1783, when Tashi Lunpo was visited by Captain Turner, the monastery consisted of 400 houses, many of which were built of stone and marble, and at least two stories high. They contained about 3700 monks (now 3800). Around the houses were gilded temples, pinnacles, pyramidal monuments (Stūpas), and above all the palace of the Tashi Lāma, forming a striking spectacle.

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Captain Turner had a remarkable interview with the Grand Lāma at the neighbouring monastery of Terpaling, on December 4, 1783. He found the princely child, then aged eighteen months, seated on a throne, with his father and mother standing on the left hand. Having been informed that, although unable to speak, he could understand, Captain Turner intimated to him ‘that the Governor-General, on receiving news of his decease, had been overwhelmed with sorrow, and continued to lament his absence from the world until the cloud was dispelled by his re-appearance. The Governor hoped that he might long continue to illumine the world by his presence.’

The infant looked steadfastly at the British envoy, and appeared to be listening to his words with deep attention, while he repeatedly nodded his head, as if he understood every syllable. He was silent and sedate, and conducted himself with astonishing dignity. Captain Turner thought him one of the handsomest children he had ever seen. It seems that he grew up to be an able and devout ruler, gratifying the Tibetans by his presence for many years, and living to a good old age.

Tashi Lunpo was not visited by the French missionaries, but M. Huc informs us (ii. 157) that in 1846 the then Panchen Lāma was 60 years of age, and still vigorous. M. Huc was told that he was of Indian origin, and that he had declared of himself that his first incarnation had taken place in India some thousands of years before.

Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās, from whose notes of a journey in Tibet so many extracts have been already given, 447 writes thus of his arrival at Tashi Lunpo on the 9th of December, 1881 (the extract is not given literally, and is abbreviated):—

In the afternoon we arrived at Tashi Lunpo. In front of the western entrance I noticed two Chortens (that is, ‘Ćaityas or Stūpas,’ see p. 504 of these Lectures), one very large, with a gilt spire, and the other small. On entering the grand monastery, I mustered all my knowledge of Buddhist ceremonies and monkish etiquette, that I might not be criticised by the passing monks as one unacquainted with the duties of the wearers of the sacred costume. I walked slowly and with gravity, but secretly observing everything around me. There were a few yaks under the charge of three or four herdsmen, waiting probably for the return of some of their number from within the monastery. Some monks, riding on mules, passed us from north to south. A few parties with heavy grain packages on their backs were entering the monastery along with us. The rays of the sun, now slanting on the gilded spires of houses and tombs in the monastery, presented a very magnificent view to the eye.

While residing in the monastery I saw people busily engaged in out-door work, such as collecting fuel and tending cattle. In fact, this was the busiest part of the year, when the Tibetans remain on the move for the purpose of buying and selling, at a time when the intensely cold winds wither up the vegetation, freeze the streams, harden the soil, and dry up the skin. The monks, like the lay-people, are remarkable for their habit of early rising. No monk within the walls of the monastery rose later than five in the morning, and the usual time for getting up was four a. m. Those who slept later, without any special cause, were subject to correction. At three in the morning the great trumpet summons all the monks to the religious service in the congregation hall. Whoever fails to attend is punished next morning. No register is kept, yet the officer who superintends the discipline can tell what monk out of two thousand has absented himself on any particular day. I was the only man who slept up to six in the morning. The monks used often to remark that, were I a regular monk of the monastery, the superintendent’s birch would have stript my body of its flesh.

About six miles from Tashi Lunpo, and on the road 448 leading from it in a south-westerly direction towards the monastery of Sakya (see below), is the monastery of Narthang, whence issued one of the three copies of the Kanjur (p. 272) brought to Europe by Brian Hodgson.

We have now to notice the two most important monasteries of the Red sect.

First, Sam ye (Sam yas) is on the great river Tsanpo, about forty miles from Lhāssa, in a south-easterly direction. It was the first monastery founded in the eighth century by Padma-sambhava, after King Khri Srong De Tsan’s restoration of Buddhism (pp. 271, 272). It is the metropolitan monastery of the Red-capped monks and Urgyanpa sect. Sam ye was visited by the Indian explorer Nain Singh in 1874, on his final journey to Lhāssa[236], and by Sarat Chandra Dās in 1882. Many of its images are of gold, and it possesses an extensive library. Padma-sambhava was a master of Indian Yoga and magic. He is fabled to have worked many miracles—such as filling empty jars with divine water—at Sam ye. He undertook to expel all evil demons from Tibet, but was opposed by the Bon priests.

The other chief monastery of the Red sect is that of Sakya (Saskya), situated about fifty-five miles from Tashi Lunpo, on the road leading in a south-westerly direction towards Nepāl. It has four great sanctuaries and a celebrated library, and is surrounded by a large town, with temples and houses mostly painted red (p. 273).

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It should be noted that in all the large monasteries of Northern Buddhist countries, varied assortments of vestments, robes, costumes, and masks are kept for use in the religious dances, masquerades, and dramatic performances which are a characteristic of Northern Buddhism. Indeed, some of the richer monasteries possess extensive wardrobes of great value, and the monks in their masquerading dances change their costumes very frequently and with great rapidity (see pp. 347-350).

Note, too, that the libraries of such monasteries generally contain large and valuable collections of books. The 108 volumes of the northern canon called Kanjur, with the commentaries called Tanjur (see p. 272), constitute a library in themselves. In addition to these, there are vast numbers of other treatises written to elucidate the mysteries of Northern Buddhism, most of which are still a terra incognita to European scholars. It is well known that in mediæval times some Buddhist monasteries became seats of learning, which might have vied with the most learned Universities established at that period in Europe.

Temples.

Although temples have been already adverted to as forming an important feature in all monasteries, and often an actual part of the edifice constituting the monastery; it will be worth while to devote a short space of time to their separate consideration.

In the earliest days of Buddhism neither temples nor halls nor rooms for meeting together (saṅgha-gṛiha) were much needed. The monk recited the Law in the open air or in the houses of the laity. It was only when 450 collections of monks crystallized into regularly organized communities, and a kind of congregational recitation of the Law became a part of every day’s duty, that the monks required places of assembly like churches for the performance of religious services.

Such places of meeting were often, like the cells for the monks, excavated out of rocks. And, since relic-shrines called Ćaityas (as well as Stūpas, see p. 504) were erected at the further extremity of the excavated hall, the hall itself was generally called a Ćaitya.

The two principal rock-excavated Ćaitya-halls visited by me were at Elorā (also spelt Ellora and Elurā) and at Kārle (Kārlī). I was also much interested in a smaller one at the Nāsik caves. In their interior structure they are all strikingly like ancient Christian churches.

The Elorā Ćaitya forms one of the series of caves already mentioned (p. 169). It is probably as old as the sixth century of our era, and is of an elongated horse-shoe shape, with a massive ribbed roof arched like that of a cathedral, supported on twenty-eight octagonal columns, over which runs a curious frieze, having on it a carved representation of a buffalo-hunt and boar-chase. There is a nave with side-aisles about 86 feet long by 43 broad. Moreover, over the entrance, supported by two square columns, is a gallery which may have served for a choir or for a band of musicians. A lofty solid Dāgaba, in shape like a massive dome resting on a cylindrical base, stands at the further end of the nave, the aisles being continued round it, so that worshippers may circumambulate the apse. The front of this immense relic-receptacle is hollowed out to receive a colossal 451 sedent figure of the Buddha, about 17 feet high[237], with the Bodhi-tree carved in an arch above his head. Two images of attendants are in an erect attitude, one on each side, but are not so prominent as to draw off the eye from the immense central figure.

The Brāhmans have now appropriated this cave, and dedicated it to Viṡva-karma, the supposed patron deity of builders and carpenters. I was told that carpenters come from all parts of the country to worship the image in its Brāhmanical character. As a token of honour, they smear it with red paint.

I noticed a remarkable sculpture carved out of the rock near this cave-temple. It represented worshippers praying to Padma-pāni to be delivered from fire, from sword, from captivity, from wild beasts, from snakes, and from the skeleton Death who is seen approaching.

The Ćaitya cave at Kārle, near Poona, which I visited in 1876, is in all its dimensions and arrangements similar to the Viṡva-karma cave at Elorā, but is still larger, finer, and more imposing. It has a nave and side aisles, terminating in an apse, round which the aisle is carried. The whole is about 124 feet long by 45½ feet broad and 46 feet in height. There are fifteen pillars on each side, separating the nave from the aisles, and under the dome of the apse is the Dāgaba (or Ćaitya)—a two-storied cylindrical drum, surmounted by a Tee ornament (p. 456), on which is a wooden umbrella. There is a cavity in the Dāgaba for relics, though none are now to be found there.

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This wonderful excavation at Kārle is one of the most magnificent monuments of ancient Buddhism, and one of the most interesting examples of early Buddhistic art to be seen anywhere in India. And, more than this, it is probably one of the most striking places of congregational worship to be seen anywhere in the world.

Of course these rock-excavated churches soon developed into temples (Vihāras) built of stone or brick, some of which were of a monumental character, like that at Buddha-Gayā, already described (see p. 390), while others were unpretending structures near villages, where the laity could repeat their prayers or make offerings. Others, again, formed the most important edifice among the group of buildings constituting a monastery.

The village temples might more suitably be called chapels. All have some features in common. At the further end of a dimly-lighted room is an altar of stone or wood. On this are placed the idols, and around them are arranged vases and cups, in which the offerings of the laity are deposited. The larger edifices have vestibules, and at the entrance are generally rude images of the four great kings (p. 206), who are supposed to be the guardians of Buddhism (p. 206), while inside there are sculptures, frescoes, and pictures illustrative of the various births and transmigrations of the Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas. In the precincts is always to be found a Bodhi-tree (Bo-tree, p. 519), if the climate and soil will admit of its being reared. The greater number of sacred structures, however, even those of a more important kind and more entitled to be called temples, are 453 mere square or oblong rectangular buildings, without architectural design or ornamentation.

In Ceylon I visited a temple of this kind on the shore of the Kandy lake. It consisted of a large bare room or small hall, at the further end of which was a curtain concealing a highly venerated image of the Buddha. The attendant drew aside the curtain and showed us the image, which had representations of rays of light issuing from all parts of his body, as well as five rays emerging from the crown of his head. In the enclosure or ‘compound’ of the temple, was a bell-shaped Dāgaba or relic-shrine of solid brick-work, covered with Chunam, and having a receptacle for lights in front of it. Close at hand was the usual sacred Pīpal-tree.

At Kelani, about eight miles from Colombo, is a larger and much more important temple which I also visited. Those who make pilgrimages to this temple gain great stores of merit. It contains a colossal recumbent image of the Buddha, thirty-six feet long, lying on his right side, and representing the founder of Buddhism when about to pass into Pari-nirvāṇa (see p. 50). The image is protected by a screen, in the centre of which is a figure of the King of Serpents, while at the sides are gigantic images of the temple-guardians. Around the interior are fresco paintings of various incidents in the previous lives of the Buddha. There are also images of the Hindū gods Vishṇu, Ṡiva, and Gaṇeṡa (see p. 206). In the garden of the temple are residences for the monks, a cloister-like enclosure, a room with a good printing press, and an immense Pīpal-tree.

A still more important temple is that called the 454 Dalada Māligāwa or temple of the sacred eye-tooth, at Kandy in Ceylon. This is a very picturesque structure, situated on the margin of the lake close to the town. It has no surrounding walls, and is easily accessible to all comers. Steps lead up to a kind of open corridor, in which is the main entrance, and the walls of which are decorated with coloured frescoes of the eight principal hells—the supposed abode of evil-doers undergoing purgatorial torments during one of their states of existence (see p. 120)[238].

Some are represented in the act of being cut in pieces by demons, or fixed on red-hot iron spikes, or torn asunder with glowing tongs, or sawn in two with saws, or crushed between rocks, or consumed by flames entering the apertures of their bodies. The European visitor inquires with amazement how it is that a system so mild, merciful, and tolerant, should have invented the horrible tortures here exhibited. The explanation is not difficult, and his astonishment ceases when he is reminded that Buddhism, recognizing no moral Governor of the Universe, is compelled to resort to such artifices for the coercion and intimidation of evil-doers.

In the interior of the building is the shrine, in which is preserved behind iron bars, the golden Dāgaba or receptacle of one of the Buddha’s eye-teeth (see p. 500). On each side are images, and when I visited the shrine, the whole chamber was redolent with the fragrance of masses of flowers—chiefly jasmine—recently deposited before them as offerings.

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Behind the building I found an open quadrangle with cells for the monks, and a residence for the Head of the monastery. Not far from the entrance was a spacious library, where I was greeted by a number of youthful monks, dressed in simple toga-like vestments, but with their right shoulders left bare. Some were engaged in writing. I therefore asked for a specimen of their penmanship. Upon which they wrote down for me on palm leaves, in the Sinhalese character, forty-eight epithets of the Buddha, such as the following:—God of the gods, Indra of Indras, Brahmā of Brahmās, the Almighty, Omniscient, Existing in his own Law, Lord of the Law, Saviour of all, Conqueror, King of doctrine, Ocean of grace, Treasury, Jewel, Sun, Moon, Stars, Lotus, Ambrosia of the World, the Five-eyed one, the Bull, Elephant, Lion among men, stronger than the strongest, mightier than the mightiest, more merciful than the most merciful, more meritorious than the most meritorious, more beautiful than the most beautiful, etc.

The temples in Burma are commonly called ‘pagodas,’ a word corrupted from the Pāli Dāgaba (Sanskṛit Dhātu-garbha), ‘receptacle of the (sacred) elements’ or relics of the body. They are also called Dagohn. According to Mr. Scott (‘Burman,’ i. 184), the number of temples in Burma far exceeds those in Ceylon or Tibet or China. No village so poor as to be without its ‘neatly kept shrine, with the remains of others mouldering away around it; no hill so steep as to be without its glittering gold or snow-white spire rising up to guard the place; no work of merit so richly paid as the building of a pagoda.’ Some are of simple construction, 456 others elaborate; but of all the temples the great Rangoon pagoda is the grandest and most crowded with worshippers and pilgrims.

The peculiar sacredness and popularity of this wonderful structure (said to have been founded 588 B.C.), arises from its containing relics of Gautama and his three predecessors, that is, eight hairs from Gautama’s head, the staff of Kāṡyapa, the robe of Kanaka-muni, and the drinking-cup of Kraku-ććhanda (see p. 135 of these Lectures). The stately pile stands upon a mound—partly natural, partly artificial—cut into two rectangular terraces one above the other, the upper being 166 feet above the ground, and each side facing one of the cardinal points of the compass. The ascent is by very dilapidated steps, some of stone, some of ‘sun-dried bricks, worn almost into a slope by the bare feet of myriads of worshippers.’ None but Europeans may ascend with covered feet. The stairs lead to a ‘broad, open flagged space, which runs all round the pagoda, and is left free for worshippers.’ From the centre of this springs, from an octagonal plinth, the ‘profusely gilt solid brick pagoda,’ which has a circumference of 1355 feet, and rises to a height of about 328, ‘or nearly as high as St. Paul’s cathedral.’ On the summit is ‘the Tee,’ a gilt umbrella-shaped ornament with many tiers of rings, on each of which ‘hang multitudes of gold and silver jewelled bells.’ It was ‘placed there at a cost of not much less than £50,000[239].’ At the foot of the pagoda are four chapels, having colossal figures of Buddha 457 at the sides, and their gilded interiors darkened by the vapour of thousands of burning tapers. ‘Hundreds of Gautamas,’ large and small, white and black, gilded and plain, sitting, standing, and reclining, surround the larger images. It is said that the great pagoda has been thrice covered with gold-leaf.

There is a still higher pagoda (332 feet high) at Pegu, and the most ancient of all is at Arakan.

Passing to Northern Buddhist countries, we find that the temples are generally simple, and not to be compared with the grand pagodas of Burma.

For example, at Tassiding in Sikkim, Sir Richard Temple (Journal, ii. 204) found that the two principal temples were chapel-like structures with ‘overshadowing umbrella-shaped roofs, thatched with split bamboos.’ The walls were of rough stone, the upper half being painted red. The interiors, which were dimly lighted, had two stories, the walls being covered with coloured frescoes illustrating the punishments in the various hells, ‘some of which would be suitable for illustrations of Dante’s Inferno.’ The ends opposite to the entrance were filled with images. In other parts of the chapels were praying-machines, and on shelves the remnants of a library of sacred Buddhist manuscripts. Sir Richard attended a religious service in one of these chapels, which consisted of a series of chants and invocations to a female demon called Tanma, represented by a hideous lay figure dressed in robes. According to tradition, it was the malevolent action of the twelve Tanmas in bringing pestilences on the Tibetans, that led them to send for Padma-sambhava, who introduced 458 the debased Buddhism subsequently prevalent in Tibet (Note by Capt. R. C. Temple).

According to Dr. Schlagintweit (p. 189) and Koeppen the generality of temples in Mongolia and Tibet consist of one large square or rectangular room, with an entrance-hall or vestibule, which in Mongolia looks to the south and in Tibet to the east. ‘The inside surface is whitewashed or covered with a kind of plaster,’ and decorated with paintings representing episodes taken from the life of the Buddhas, or with pictures of gods and goddesses of terrible aspect. Generally images of the four great kings are placed here as guardians of the sanctuary (p. 206 of this volume). Sometimes there are side chambers, which may be compared to transepts, and give the building the form of a cross. These chambers often have shelves for the sacred books, wrapped in silk. In the corners are tables for images of the deities, religious dresses, musical instruments, etc. Other articles required for the daily service are hung up on wooden pegs along the walls. Benches for the Lāmas are placed in the hall of the temple.

The altar at the further extremity rises in steps made of wood, beautifully carved and richly ornamented. Upon these are arranged images of the Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas, and especially the chief idol representing Gautama Buddha in some of his forms and attitudes. Here also are vessels for offerings, bells, Dorjes (p. 323), and other utensils used in religious worship. Among the latter may be seen the mirror (Melong, see p. 463) used in the ceremony described at p. 335. There is 459 also a vase with peacock’s feathers, and a sacred book is never wanting.

The vessels for offerings are of brass, and like tea-cups. They are usually filled with barley, butter, and perfumes, and in summer with flowers. Near at hand is a Chorten (p. 380) containing relics, and having a niche with the image of a Buddha or Bodhi-sattva, to whom the temple may perhaps be dedicated.

Finally, in the entrance-vestibule, at both sides of the door, as well as in the interior, stand rows of large and small prayer-cylinders, which are perpetually kept revolving by the attendant Lāmas.

Of course the temples at the great centres of Tibetan Buddhism in and near Lhāssa, Tashi Lunpo, and other important places, are far more imposing. Indeed, for magnificence, few religious edifices in any part of the world can compare with them.

The great temple (called Cho Khang) in the monastery of Lā brang at Lhāssa is a kind of centre of the Lāmistic Church. It is the first and oldest temple, and, as before stated (p. 440), the St. Peter’s of Lāmism[240].

The facade of this vast structure looks to the east, and in front of it is a square place, with a kind of obelisk or monolith, commemorating the victory of the Tibetans over the Chinese in the ninth century, as well as more recent treaties of peace and friendship between the two countries. The main building is three stories high. Before the entrance stands a lofty flag-pole, forty 460 feet high[241], and not far off is a poplar, said to have sprung ‘from the consecrated hair of Buddha.’ The portico of the temple consists of a colonnade of six thick wooden columns. The walls of the portico are covered with rude paintings, representing scenes in the biography of Gautama Buddha. In the middle are folding doors adorned with bronze carvings in relief. Through these is the entrance into the front hall, over which is the first story. In the wall opposite to the entrance is a second door, on each side of which stand two colossal statues of the four great kings (see pp. 23, 51, 53, 54 of this volume).

This second door leads into the interior of the building. On entering, the visitor finds himself in a vast temple, shaped like a basilica, divided by rows of columns into three naves and two transepts. The broad central nave is lighted from above by transparent oil-cloth instead of glass. This is the only light which finds its way into the temple, as there are no side windows. On the outside of the two secondary naves is a row of small chapels, fourteen on one side and fourteen on the other. The two transepts form the back-ground of the great hall, and are separated from the naves by a silver lattice-work. Here, at the ordinary services, are the seats of the inferior monks. From the west transept a staircase leads to another pillared transept, which forms the vestibule of the 461 sanctuary. In the middle of the sanctuary, which is square in form, is the altar for offerings. Beyond the altar, at the west side of the sanctuary, and therefore in the furthest recess of the whole building, is a quadrangular niche. In front of this niche on the left is the throne of the Dalai Lāma, very lofty, richly adorned and furnished with five cushions, as is customary in the case of Grand Lāmas. On one side of the Dalai Lāma’s throne is a similar throne for the Panchen Lāma, and then, in regular order, the thrones of the Khutuktus and other Avatāra Lāmas. The Khanpos and the whole non-Avatāra monkhood have seats in the transept.

Opposite to the throne of the Dalai Lāma, on the right of the niche, is the chair of the Regent, which is less elevated than the thrones of the Avatāra Lāmas. Behind are the seats of the four ministers, which again are less elevated than those of the non-Avatāra Lāmas. At the west end of the niche is the high altar, which rises in numerous steps. On the upper steps are small images of deified saints, in massive gold or silver. On the lower ones, as on all Buddhist altars, are lamps, incense-holders, bowls for offerings, etc. On the highest elevation, behind silver and golden lattice-work, is the celebrated image of Gautama Buddha richly gilded. This image is said to have been constructed in Magadha during the lifetime of the Buddha. Others hold it to be self-produced; and another tradition ascribes its origin to the god Viṡva-karma, who, instructed by Indra, constructed it with equal parts of five metals and five precious stones. Besides this highest object of 462 worship, the temple contains countless images and pictures of Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas (such as Dīpaṃkara, Amitābha, Maitreya, the eleven-faced Avalokiteṡvara, Mañju-ṡrī, etc.), besides gods and goddesses[242], and historical personages, such as Tsong Khapa, who have benefited the Lāmistic church (among them being a statue of Hiouen Thsang), as well as relics, and gold and silver vessels, which are exhibited every year at the beginning of the third month.

Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās, who, in his ‘Narrative,’ records his visit to the great Lhāssa temple, informs us that when he was there, five thousand oil-burners were lighted in the court of the temple, and those before the principal image were all of gold. He found some of the subordinate chapels infested by mice, which are never touched, because supposed to be metamorphosed monks. He observed some Buddhists from Nepāl chanting Sanskṛit hymns, and others engaged in circumambulation, while the muttering of Om Maṇi padme Hūm (p. 372) was incessant.

Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās also describes a visit he paid to the famous shrine of Ramoćhe, before adverted to (see p. 441). I give his description in an abbreviated form:—

Our equipment was as usual a bundle of incense-sticks, clarified butter, and a few scarves. Our road turned westward by the side of a long Mandong (see p. 380). I left it to my right-hand side, seeing that to have kept it on my left would have been heretical. A few hundred 463 paces brought us to the gate of the famous temple of Ramoćhe, erected by the wife of King Srong Tsan Gampo, the first Chinese princess who introduced Buddhism into Tibet. It is a lofty edifice, flat-roofed, and three stories high, surrounded by a stone wall, with a high and wide porch. About thirty monks were solemnly seated to perform a religious service, on two sides of a row of pillars which supported the roof. The image brought by the Nepālese princess, lay midway between the pillars. It was grand-looking; and, though its face was gilded, its antiquity was manifest. In the northern lobby of the temple was a vast collection of ancient relics, such as shields, spears, drums, arrows, sabres, long knives, trumpets, etc. In a room to the left of the entrance, enclosed by iron lattice-work, were a few images considered especially sacred. We were also shown a brass mirror, called Melong, said to be possessed of wonderful properties.

The history of the shrine, according to the same traveller, is this:—The princess being thoroughly versed in astrology, found that there was a spot close to the new-built city of Lhāssa which was connected with the lower regions of torment. On that plot of ground she erected the shrine of Ramoćhe, on the chief altar of which she placed the famous statue of Buddha, brought from China. In this way she hoped to intercept the passage (gati) of wicked people to a life in one of the hells (see p. 121). Whoever, at the time of death, was brought to this sanctuary, could only be born again in the worlds of either men or gods.

Finally we come to the temple at the second great Metropolis of Buddhism:—

Mr. Bogle (Markham’s Tibet, p. 100) describes the temple in the monastery at Tashi Lunpo as simply a long room or gallery containing thirteen gigantic figures made of copper gilt, all in a sedent attitude, with their legs folded under them. He found them all draped, 464 with jewelled crowns and necklaces of coral, pearls, and other stones. The thrones on which they sat were also of copper gilt, and adorned with turquoises and cornelians. Behind them were a variety of conch-shells, set in silver, ostrich-eggs, cocoa-nuts, and other articles. At each end of the gallery was a large collection of books deposited in pigeon-holes. Mr. Bogle was present when the Tashi Lāma himself entered the temple, and, as he passed along, sprinkled rice upon the images. This was a kind of consecration-ceremony.

As an instance of the tolerant character of Buddhism and its readiness to accommodate itself to the indigenous creeds of the countries into which it was introduced, we may note, in conclusion, that in Japan may be seen Buddhist and Shinto temples side by side or even occasionally combined in one building. Buddhism in fact adopted Shintoism in Japan just as it adopted Shamanism in Tibet. It took the deities and demi-gods of Shintoism and turned them into Bodhi-sattvas[243].

The subject of Monasteries and Temples naturally leads us to that of images and image-worship; but this and the whole subject of ‘Sacred Objects’ must be reserved for the next two Lectures.

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