A Supposed Miracle.
Turning about to see what it could be, I caught sight of two stout
fellows armed with Tibetan swords. On their approach, I asked them
what they wanted. Abruptly picking up a stone, the younger of them
threatened me and said: “What do you mean?”
“Run off,” he menaced, “or you shall die.”
Then I took my seat on a stone by the roadside and gave myself up for
lost. The men strode toward me, and violently seized my stick.
“Tell us what you have and where you come from,” they said.
“I am a pilgrim,” I answered, “and I come from Tise.”
“You have money?”
“I have a little,” I said, “not worth taking, as I was robbed at
Jangthang.”
“What have you on your back?”
“Some food and the Scriptures.”
“Unpack it and let us see; you may have much money there.”
“No, the money is in my pocket,” I said “and not in the baggage. Being
a priest, I never tell a lie. You may have either the money or the
baggage, if you wish.”
I was just going to give them money when three horsemen appeared riding
towards us, and at sight of them the highwaymen took to their heels,
leaving the stick and everything else. Thus I was saved.
“Who are they?” asked the horsemen, and on my answering that they had
demanded of me my money and baggage, they expressed their disgust.
“Go to yonder temple,” they added after a little pause, “and you will
find a village. Be quick and we will see you safe there.”
I thanked them and walked on toward the village, and the horsemen went
away westward after a little while. Instead of stopping there for the
night, I proceeded eastwards as far as Nya-mo-Hotta, a little village
about seven miles off, where I lodged. The following day I took lunch
at Teshok, and stopped at Tak-tsu-kha in the evening. On December 20th
at dawn, I went south-east through the deep snow, it having snowed very
hard the night before. While going along the river Brahmapuṭra, I saw
some cranes walking in the snow, and was so delighted that I forgot
that I was in so cold a climate.
Then I amused myself with composing _Utas_, of which the following is
one:
With crystals of the snow, how white the sand
All spotted gleams upon the river banks!
The flocks of cranes to me appear to sing
The changeless glories of the Path of Truth
In their melodious joyful bursts of song:
On those bejewelled banks they tread in pride;
With gait majestic slow they strut about.
Amid such beautiful scenes I went down along the southern bank of the
river, and after about eight miles’ walk I came to Kurum Namse, where
I took lunch. I proceeded still further east along the same stream for
about five miles, and found the river running north-east, while my road
lay south-east into the mountain. I went up the hill about four miles,
and stopped at Shab-Tontub.
On the following morning I went eastwards again along a clear stream,
and after about four miles I could see from its banks a rocky mountain,
at the foot of which there was a temple called Cham Chen Gompa (meaning
‘the monastery of the great image of Charity’, _i.e._, the Boḍhisaṭṭva
of that name), where there was an image of the Buḍḍha Maiṭreya
about thirty-five feet high. Boḍhisaṭṭva Maiṭreya (which name means
‘Charity’) is honored as next to Buḍḍha in rank, but in Tibet he is
worshipped as a Buḍḍha who will hereafter appear again on earth. I
worshipped at this temple, and then at the shrine of the divinities,
and of Shākyamuni Buḍḍha beside the temple. Then I entered a lamasery.
This temple, which is the largest between Lhasa and Shigatze, has two
hundred dormitories, with three hundred priests. The chief priest of
the house where I stopped was in great distress on account of some bad
dreams which he had had on several successive nights. He had dreamed
that he was dying, and this troubled him much, for he had immense
wealth. So he asked me to read the Scriptures to him, so that he might
be free from the supposed evil. I knew of no gospel specially suitable
for such purposes, but I thought that the reading of the Buḍḍhist canon
might do him good, so I told him that I would do as he wished, and from
the following day began reading _The Aphorisms of the White Lotus of
the Wonderful Law_ and other Scriptures in Tibetan.
It was on the 28th of December, as I remember, that a priest was going
to Kātmāndu in Nepāl, and I seized the occasion to send a letter home
by him, addressed to my bosom friend Tokujuro Hige. I paid him a
comparatively large sum of money and asked him to send it registered
from the post office of Nepāl. The man was reputed so honest that he
had never been known to tell a lie, but strangely enough the letter
failed to reach its address, as I have since discovered.
During the afternoon of the 31st I was sped on my way by the head
priest, who lent me a horse. I got on the horse, loaded it with my
baggage, and going east for about three miles, came to Ta-mi-la, where
I was asked to read the Scriptures. While riding to the village, I
lifted up my thanks to Buḍḍha for the grace by which I had been saved
through so many calamities and afflictions during the year, it being
the last day of the 33rd year of Meiji according to the Japanese mode
of reckoning (A.D. 1900). I did not know what adversities were yet in
store for me, but I could not but think that I might be kept safe to do
all I could for the cause of Buḍḍhism.
The New Year’s Day dawned, but I met with nothing special to mark the
day, as the Tibetans use the old calendar. Still I got up early at
three o’clock in the morning, and turning east, as I had done every
New Year’s Day, I began the New Year’s reading of the Scriptures.
For, as Buḍḍhism teaches us, it is our duty to pray for the health of
the sovereign, and every Buḍḍhist reads the Scriptures on New Year’s
Day, in however remote a place he may happen to be, and prays for the
welfare of the Imperial Family. I read the Scriptures at the village
till the 5th, and on the following day I proceeded seven miles to Omi,
where I stopped for the night. In a temple of this village there was
an image called in Tibetan _Sung Chung Dolma_ (the Mother of Salvation
who utters a command) which was about three feet high, and so beautiful
that it seemed as if it might even speak. The Tibetans told me that
the image at one time actually spoke. I read the Scriptures there for
two days, and received many gifts. I had met the highwaymen, and had
been robbed of my money, but money was constantly given to me, and my
reading the Scriptures earned me so many gifts, that I had now laid by
a considerable sum of money, and I was living on the food given to me
by others.
On the 12th of January, at 5 o’clock in the morning, I set out on my
journey with a coolie, who carried my baggage. We went on south-east
along the bank of a stream flowing through the mountains. Here we
found the snow turned into ice, and so slippery was the ground that
we had to take great care, lest we should fall. Going on for about
twelve miles, we found ourselves at Choe Ten, where there were many
hot springs, three of them warm enough to bathe in. I do not know for
what disease they might be really efficacious, though they seemed to
me to be good for rheumatism. I saw several places in the stream where
steaming springs could be seen boiling up. We took our lunch and again
went on eastward for about nine miles, till we came in sight of a
temple called Mani Lha-khang, in a willow plantation along the river.
This temple was so called, because it enshrined a large bronze cylinder
holding many pieces of paper each bearing the spell _mani_, consisting
of the following six sounds ‘Om-ma-ni-pad-me-hum’ and meaning “all will
be as we will.” The tube was beautifully wrapped in copper foil, and
ornamented with gold and silver. It had an iron axle through it and
was so formed that it would revolve from left to right. This temple
is among the most famous in Tibet. The founder of the temple was Je
Tsong-kha-pa, who started a new sect. His memory is held in great
esteem in the country, and especially in this temple, mostly because he
was the inventor of the “prayer-cylinder”.
I stopped at this temple, the keeper of which was very rude; without
any scruple he asked me to read his face for him, for he said I
looked out of the common. I had never studied physiognomy, but I
thought that I might thus teach a lesson to the Tibetans, who are
very superstitious. So I told him that I was very sorry for him, for
he seemed to be a man who, though often given money and other things,
would sustain much loss through other men, and for whom the future
would have nothing but debt. Singularly enough, this exactly told his
past life, and he was so surprised at my words, that he told all about
me to his richest neighbor, called Dorje Gyalpo (Prince Diamond). That
very evening a fine lady, who I was told was the wife of the rich
man, came to me with a child, and asked me to tell its fortune. This
troubled me not a little. But when I saw the sickly and feeble state
of the child I could easily guess what would happen, so I ventured to
tell her that I was very sorry, for the child seemed likely not to live
long, and I also told her about the philosophy of retribution. She
asked me if there was no way of saving its life. I thought how glad
I should be if I could have an opportunity of reading the ‘complete
Text,’ as I knew that I should have very little chance of doing so
after reaching Lhasa. I said therefore that a long reading of the
Scriptures might do some good. She went home early that evening.
Very strange indeed! the child fell so ill the following morning that
the whole family was struck with my chance prediction, and I was asked
to come to the house to read the Scriptures, even though it might take
several days to do so. I said I would, but as they had no copy of the
‘complete Scriptures’ I asked for a man to be sent to Rong Langba, a
little further up the hill, to borrow a copy. In the meanwhile I sat
in the usual religious meditation, when suddenly my ears caught the
sound of weeping and crying women in the kitchen. What could all that
mean? Something serious must have happened in the house. Still I kept
quiet, as it was none of my business to go and see. Soon, however,
the mistress of the house came to tell me that the child had died as
predicted, and she asked me to save it. I was also surprised to learn
how my words had come true, and hurried into the room, only to find the
child quite senseless and cold.
I felt the child’s pulse, which was beating faintly, though his body
was not warm and his neck was nearly stiff. I thought the disease might
be congestion of the brain, as I had read a few books on medicine. So
I called for some cold water, and put on to his head a piece of wet
cloth, while, at the same time, I rubbed his neck and head vigorously
for twenty minutes. It was only a short faint, and the child began
to come to his senses. You can easily imagine how glad was his
grandmother, who was almost beside herself with joy to see restored
to life the child whom they had supposed to be dead. I told her to
keep quiet and to continue rubbing till the child was perfectly well.
This won for me no small respect from all present, and I was asked to
stay for a long time to read the Scriptures. I, too, was glad to stay
there over two months during the cold season, enjoying my reading.
Besides reading the Scriptures, I often took walks among the hills and
valleys and on these occasions many children, with the one I had saved,
followed me in my walks quite as if they were my own children. I loved
the children so much, or rather was so loved by them, that my only
business besides my reading was to take them for walks.