Meeting with the Incarnate Bodhisattva.
This healing made me an object of much talk, and I soon found myself
surrounded by many patients. I now began to fear that I should thus
be prevented from studying, and so fail to accomplish my chief end.
So I tried every means to keep the patients from me, but the more
I declined, the more patients I found brought to me, and I was at
last obliged to get some medicines from Thien-ho-thang (a Chinese
druggist) in Lhasa. I gave the medicines to these patients, most of
whom recovered either through their faith in me or through the efficacy
of the drugs; for I had studied the rudiments of medical science (of
the old school, it is true) and this enabled me to use the medicines.
There is one disease which is most feared as fatal by the Tibetans.
It is dropsy, little, if at all different from _beri-beri_. No one
in the neighborhood of Lhasa seemed to know how to cure the disease.
I prepared for it a medicine of which I had been told by a Tibetan
hermit, and gave it to some patients suffering from dropsy. I am glad
to say that this medicine cured six or seven patients out of every ten,
though I could not heal cases that were far gone.
This made me quite famous and my name, known only in my own monastery
at first, began to be known in the whole city of Lhasa and in the
country as far as Shigatze. Often two horses were sent on for me from
places of three days’ journey distant to take me to patients. I took no
reward from the poor, but gave them medicine gratis. This may have had
a great deal to do with my popularity, and I came to be regarded as a
God of medicine.
There are many cases of consumption in Tibet. I gave my medicine to
those patients who were in the first stages of the disease, but chronic
cases I left without any medicine, to meditation or religious services
that they might gain salvation, and die at ease. This, I was told,
made some patients fear to come to me, for it was said that those to
whom medicine was given recovered, while the others, whom I taught
about death and the future, without giving them any medicine, were
sure to die. Some did not like to be told that death was near them,
and women especially were frightened to come before me. The Tibetans
have a strange habit. When they fall ill, before any doctor is sent
for, a sorcerer is asked to see which doctor is best and what kind of
medicine is good. Some doctors, therefore, are so wicked as to bribe
the sorcerer to recommend them to the patients. The sorcerer, too,
being pleased enough to see the patients cured by the doctor whom he
suggested, began to recommend me to his patients when he saw my name
was making so great a stir in Tibet. He would tell his patients to be
sure to come to me. I never asked him to mention me, nor even saw him
in person; nor is it probable that he ever saw me. His recommendation
must have come out of his love of fame. When, therefore, a high officer
or priest fell ill and was told by his sorcerer to see me, I was sure
to be sent for. A horse was sent to bring me, generally with a letter
of introduction. Often I received a letter politely requesting me to
come, and wherever I went, therefore, I was very kindly received, for
the life of the patient was supposed to depend entirely on me.
Fame travels surprisingly fast, and at last mine reached the Royal
Court, so that I was one day called there. The Dalai Lama was not in
reality ill, but desired to see what I looked like. In Tibet it is no
easy matter to see His Holiness. He may be seen while passing, but no
ordinary priests or even high priests can have the privilege of talking
to him. This was, therefore a great honor to me, and I took the liberty
of riding the horse sent to take me to the Royal palace. The Grand Lama
was not then at Potala, but at his country palace called Nolpu Lingka,
in a forest along the Kichu, south-west of Potala. This palace is much
newer than the other, and the Pope enjoys the coolness there in summer.
I rode along a wide road in the forest for about three hundred and
fifty yards, till I came to a high stone wall over twenty feet high
and three hundred and fifty yards square. I went west through the
large gate in the wall, and found on both sides of the road inside the
gate many white boxes in the shape of post pillars about six yards
apart. In them incense is burned when the Dalai Lama goes along the
road. Lofty trees are grown in the courtyard on both sides of the
road, though there is a very wide lawn within the court. After about
a hundred yards, I came to a square piece of ground enclosed by stone
fences about one hundred and fifty yards square, along which were seen
many beautiful stone houses for the priest officials to live in. These
houses have each a flower garden which is beautifully decorated with as
many trees and plants as can be found in Tibet. What is stranger still,
at the four corners as well as some other parts of the stone fences are
found little kennels, in which two or three score strong Tibetan dogs
are chained. They bark terribly from their high pens. The Dalai Lama
is said to be so fond of dogs that whoever brings him a strong hound
is treated very kindly and receives great rewards. Hence many dogs are
brought from great distances. None of his predecessors, however, have
had such a liking for dogs. The gates to the Papal palace are at the
east and west corners of the walls and face south. About thirty yards
from the gate was a large house into which my horse was led. Then I was
taken to the house of the Court Physician.
This residence of the Court Physician has four large rooms, parlor,
study, servants’ room and kitchen. The house is approached through a
garden full of beautiful flowers, and one then comes to a curtain of
white linen. Going under the curtain, one enters another garden, at one
side of which is the entrance to the parlor.
The parlor has Chinese sliding doors in white, with panes of glass. In
the room were two images, one of Buḍḍha and the other of Tsong-kha-pa,
the founder of the New Sect, set on a gilt stand, with pictures of
dragons, peacocks, and flowers. Such images are found in most shrines
of the New Sect. Before the images were Tibetan candlesticks of silver,
with three butter-candles that were left burning both day and night.
The Physician was sitting on a Tibetan carpet with painted flowers, and
there were two beautiful high desks before him, in front of which there
was a fur cushion for the guest to sit upon. I was told to sit on this
fur cushion, and very soon a servant priest brought in the very best
tea, which he poured into the physician’s cup and then into mine on the
desk. The physician was said to be very kind and gentle, and his face
resembled mine so much that we might be taken for brothers.
The physician told me that the Dalai Lama was not seriously ill and
that it was because I had healed so many patients that he wished to see
me. But, he added, as he was very busy, I must not talk long with him.
He said that the Dalai Lama might have something that the physician
must consult me about.
After this talk with the physician, I was led by him to the Palace,
and we went north towards the gate mentioned above. There was a
guard-priest at the gate, who was dressed in a tight-sleeved priestly
cloak, which no common priests are allowed to put on. He keeps guard
with a club. Inside the gate there was a stone pavement some twenty
yards square, surrounded by covered ways, where there were some things
in the shape of stools. There was another gate about nine yards wide in
front of this. The inner gate was guarded by four priests, each with
a short club instead of a long one. Walking about ten yards from the
inner gate into the inner court, I found on both walls a picture of
a fierce looking Mongolian leading a tiger by a rein; and the walls,
which were roofed over, had a court between them. Instead of going
straight through the court, I went left along the covered way till I
came to the end of the western wall, when the Dalai Lama appeared from
his inner chamber.
He was preceded by _Dunnyel Chenmo_ the Lord Chamberlain, and _Choe Bon
Kenbo_ the Papal Chaplain. After His Holiness came _Yongjin Rinpoche_
the Papal Tutor. The Dalai Lama took his seat on the right hand chair
in front, and the two former attendants stood on each side, while the
Tutor sat on the chair a little below them. Seven or eight high priests
sat before His Holiness. The Court Physician leading me a little to
one side, in front of the Dalai Lama, saluted him. I saluted him three
times, and taking my robe off one of my shoulders I stepped before him,
when His Holiness stretched out his right hand to put it on my head.
Then I withdrew about four yards and stood beside the physician.
[Illustration: AN AUDIENCE WITH THE DALAI LAMA.]
The Dalai Lama then began by praising me for having healed many poor
priests at Sera. He told me to stay long at Sera and to do as I had
done, and I answered that I would do with pleasure as he wished me.
I had been told that the Pope was well versed in Chinese, and I
feared that he might speak in Chinese, for then my imposture would be
discovered. I had made up my mind, therefore, that I would in that
case frankly tell him to what nationality I belonged, that I might be
worthy of a Japanese, for I deemed it to be a great honor to be granted
an interview with him.
Luckily, however, he did not talk Chinese, but instead inquired in
Tibetan about Buḍḍhism and Buḍḍhists in China, which I answered to
his satisfaction. He was pleased to tell me that he was thinking of
appointing me to some high office. After the talk I was honored by a
cup of tea in the presence of the Dalai Lama and drank it with much
ceremony, though he retired to his chamber before I had finished
drinking.
The Dalai Lama was dressed in a cloak different from that of a common
priest. He had on a silk hood and a great robe called saṅghāṭi and
under it a fine _putuk_ of Tibetan wool about his waist. His under
dress was what is called _tema_ woven of the best Chinese sheep wool.
He wore a fine Papal crown on his head though he is said to be often
bare-headed, with no crown at all. He held a rosary in his left hand.
He was then aged twenty six. He is about five feet eight inches high,
a moderate height in Tibet.
The Dalai Lama looks very brave. His eye-brows are very high, and he is
very keen-eyed. Once a Chinese phrenologist remarked that the Tibetan
Pope would bring about war one day, to the great disturbance of the
country, for though brave-looking, he had an unlucky face. Whether the
prophesy comes true or not, he really looks the very man of whose face
a phrenologist would be sure to say something. He has a very sharp
and commanding voice, so that one could not but pay reverence in his
presence. From my long acquaintance with the Dalai Lama, during which I
heard and saw much of him and had frequent interviews with him, I judge
that he is richer in thoughts political than religious. He was bred in
Buḍḍhism, and in it he has great faith, and he is very anxious to clear
away all corruption from the Buḍḍhism and Buḍḍhists in Tibet.
But political thoughts are working most busily in his mind. He seems
to fear the British most, and is always thinking how to keep them from
Tibet. He seems to give full scope to all designs calculated to check
the encroaching force of the British. I could plainly see this while
remaining near him. Had he not been on his guard, however, which he
always is, he must have been poisoned by his retainers. He has often
been on the point of being poisoned, and each time his caution has
detected the conspiracy and the intriguers were put to death.
None of the five Dalai Lamas from the fourth to the ninth in Tibet
reached their twenty fifth year; all were poisoned when eighteen or
twenty-two years old. This is almost an open secret in Tibet, and the
reason is that, if a wise Dalai Lama is on the throne, his courtiers
cannot gratify their selfish desires. Some of these seem to have been
wise Dalai Lamas, for they received special education until they were
twenty-two or three years old. History proves that they have written
books to instruct the people.
I could not help shedding tears when the ex-Papal Minister of Finance,
at whose house I was staying at one time, told me about the fate of
the predecessors of the present Dalai Lama. The Papal Court is a den
of disloyal thieves who go by the name of courtiers, and they do all
they can to neutralise the force of the few loyal courtiers, who are
too weak to do anything against them. The ex-Minister for Finance was
among the ill-fated party driven out of the court by these toadies,
who pretended to pay great reverence to the sacred Monarch before the
people, simply because they could not otherwise stay in their offices.
When anything happened against their interests, they conspired to
communicate with one another and to accuse falsely the loyal courtiers.
They would often go so far as to slander them shamelessly, and say that
such and such a person had been guilty of a disrespectful act against
the Dalai Lama.
In this subtle way some wicked courtiers turned honest scholars or
priests out of the court, and the Dalai Lama is surrounded by these
pretended loyalist devils. Hence he is so dangerously situated, that
he is obliged to pay the greatest attention to what is offered him to
eat, lest some poison should have been put in it. I could not but shed
tears for him, when I thought that there could be no court on earth so
full of wicked courtiers. But the present Dalai Lama is so prudent and
particular that these evil doers can get no chance of doing anything
against him. Still, he is really in great danger. He is wise for his
age, for, young as he is, he seems to have great sympathy with the
afflicted, and is much respected, and indeed almost worshipped, by his
people, though much disliked by the evil local governors, whom he has
been known to punish, to deprive of their estates, and to imprison for
their evil deeds.
[Illustration: INNER ROOM OF THE DALAI LAMA’S COUNTRY HOUSE.]
I often had occasion to see the inner chamber of the palace and found
that it was magnificent. It is built in the Indian, Chinese and Tibetan
styles. The garden has an artificial hill in it after the Chinese
fashion, while, as is seen in a Indian garden, it has a lawn outside
with some charming flowers. The place seems very good for walks. The
inside of the palace is built after the Tibetan style, while a part of
the roof is Chinese and the rest purely Indian. The royal garden has
various rocks and has here and there such trees as willows, peaches,
elms and many other strange trees found only in Tibet. In Tibet only
few flowers bloom in summer, though there are many in winter. A variety
of flowers, such as chrysanthemums, poppies, magnolias, tulips, and
others are planted in front of the palace veranda. The pavement is
decorated here and there with glittering jewels, and the walls are
painted by the best painters in Tibet. The papal throne stands on two
Tibetan mats at the farther side of the room, and beside the throne is
spread a thick Tibetan carpet, over which is a Chinese carpet of wool.
A table of costly wood is set on the carpets. There is a tea-bureau,
over which hangs a picture of Je Rinpoche, painted on a gold-dusted
canvas. There are many such rooms, besides, which I was not allowed to
enter, but which looked very beautiful from the outside. I was often
invited to the chief physician’s to talk about medicine with him. He
taught me several things about medicine that I did not know, though the
medical knowledge which I had gained from my own books enabled me to
keep up with him in the talk. This must have done a great deal to make
the chief physician welcome me so much. He even said he would be most
glad to recommend me as a Court Physician.
He said that he would do his best to that end, telling me at the same
time to see the premier and some other Ministers of State. My answer
was however that I could not very well stay long in Lhasa, for I was
most earnest to study Buḍḍhism. I told him also that I intended to go
to India to study Samskṛṭ, and at this he felt very sorry, for when I
left there would be no good doctor in the city. When I said that my
object was not medicine, but to study Buḍḍhism, the physician very
plausibly argued that as it was the ultimate object of Buḍḍhism to save
men, I might as well stay in the city as a doctor to practise medicine.
The doctor, I said, only relieved men of earthly pains, but could
hardly do anything toward the salvation of souls. What doctor, however
skilful, could save a dying patient? Besides, I feared I might do them
more harm than good, for I had only a smattering of medicine after all.
I might heal them of their diseases, but I could not give peace to
their souls, while a priest could free them from the most painful and
durable of all diseases. It was more urgent to study how to heal this.
Buḍḍha was the greatest doctor, who had given eighty-four thousand
religious medicines to eighty-four thousand mental diseases, and we,
as His disciples, I said, must study His ways of healing. On these
grounds I declined his offer. Finding me so firm in my resolution, the
physician went on to say that, if I ever tried to leave the city for
India, or some other far-off country, the Dalai Lama would give orders
to keep me in the country, and that my only happiness lay in staying to
work among the priests. When I heard this I began to repent that I had
been telling him my secrets rather too plainly. I feared it would put
me to some inconvenience to insist on going to India, and soon changed
the subject of our talk. So far about my medical practice; but now,
something took place of which I had never dreamed.