below was filled with cloud-billows which the cool morning air still
kept intact, the atmosphere above more clear and transparent. As they
and the sun rose higher and higher the cloud-billows became vapor,
and the mist twirled amid the foliage of the forest, or was dissolved
and disappeared in the general atmosphere.
The Bhootan verger took them to a lofty crest from which they could
look down the vista of the valley, and before them the nave of the
Cathedral. Verdant hills lifted their heads on either side, making
a sky-line as lofty as many in the Alps; yet here they were merely
spurs of the mighty range beyond.
A pause. Adele stood gazing through the Nave; and there was the
congregation, a world-full, at her feet.
Some one suggested to Paul that he ask her to sing. The request
seemed injudicious just then and there, but some people have no sixth
sense. Paul drew up his pony near hers while she was still absorbed
in the prospect. It certainly was inopportune, but he ventured:
“If my voice would carry, I should try to sing. How do you feel about
it, Adele?”
She shook her head.
“No? you don’t feel like singing! That’s not like you!”
“I like it too much, that’s why.”
“Oh, is that it?”
“Not here--I could not.”
“Where?”
“Perhaps--perhaps in the choir, when they have service.”
Evidently she had her own ideas about sentiments appropriate in
this Cathedral. There was a place and time for all things. This was
not the time nor place to make herself prominent, not even with the
divine art; rather the time for meditation upon the infinite grandeur
of the scene.
And the verger took them to other points of view, even as far as
Tongloo (altitude 10,000 feet), and Sunkukphoo (altitude 12,000
feet), consuming several days for these journeys. Over hill and dale
they went, from the Forest Bungalow mounting to Goom Rock; passing
by the pools (porkri) on to the Manay Bhunjun (temple); up zigzags to
a way-station hut. They passed through bamboo groves, and were off
and on their ponies as the route became too steep for riding. The
view at Tongloo was comprehensive and superb. Then they continued on
by descending, before surmounting another range; past waterfalls,
towards the base of Pionothumna Hills (S. E.); to rise again rapidly
by endless zigzags, seventeen at one time alone, towards the Kala
Porkri, a loftier point than they had yet reached; then more zigzags,
much puffing and blowing, through pines; then across the country, the
open upon a high level; and finally up and up, terrific pull, higher
and higher, by what Adele called the Himalaya Ladder, as extended as
Jacob’s, twenty-five zigzags in succession, a steep climb and hard
work, requiring an extra pair of wings, and double-bellows lungs--to
the summit at Sunkukphoo.
“Out on the roof!” exclaimed Miss Winchester.
“Among the flying buttresses,” thought the Professor.
“On a pinnacle of the Temple!” exclaimed the Doctor.
“All the world beneath us,” said Paul in admiration.
“All but those Delectable Mountains,” thought Adele, glancing at
once towards the snowy peaks which still towered above them at an
elevation of some twenty-nine thousand feet.
They stood in the presence of mountains five and a half miles high,
with comparatively little intervening; in the presence of some of
the highest summits upon the globe, and themselves literally on a
pinnacle.[2]
The sublimity of the Himalayas, now enhanced by greater proximity of
the beholder, presented a more pictorial effect than heretofore: the
grouping of the Trio of Mountains a composition from the Artistic
Mind of Nature; an inspiration full of aspiration, for the earth
itself seemed inspired by a desire to ascend. Such was the first
impression.
Attention was at once focused upon the Three Eternal Peaks, rather
than the extended Snowy Range which on either side disappeared in the
dim distance; and the forms and arrangement of the landscape seemed
almost ideal. Imagination might have conjured up such a tableau, but
its realization and potency in spiritual influences would hardly have
been expected as reasonable--the constant ascension of jagged glacial
ever-pointing summits (material substance) towards the Celestial
unseen realm of azure blue. Yet, there it was--an actuality--fixing
itself in the mind’s eye and on the physical retina, to be remembered
ever afterwards.
In the centre rose the Majesty of the Mountains, the Majestic Father
Peak, clad in Nature’s robes of State Existence; simple in outline,
exquisite in texture, the dignified sweep of lines and folds,
draperies and half-hidden illusive forms seemingly mysterious which
characterized the vestments of Nature’s Royal Presence--robes of
state flowing from the heavens above to the earth beneath.
Through the crystal atmosphere one could distinguish Celestial
Valleys, and ravines set amid rugged crags and mountain “needles” of
stone attenuated to an extent greater than any Cathedral spire ever
constructed by man: and in and about the deeper recesses were local
mists and hazy atmosphere, as if to hinder or prevent too inquisitive
curiosity as to the hidden depths within. Curious and admirable
indeed was this seemingly mysterious element in Nature; yet, verily
not so, not mysterious, but only secrets yet to be explored and
divulged by scientific research.
Although the tourists had thus ascended heavenward somewhat
differently from Jacob’s angels with wings, rather upon winged
ponies following the legendary hero upon his white horse; yet when
they arrived, the after-effects were quite according to ordinary
experience.
Miss Winchester was the first to illustrate her human nature under
such conditions. The altitude affected her peculiarly, not as it did
the others.
“No wonder,” said she, “that some people are tempted to jump off when
they find themselves on high places!--the exhilaration is intense.
There is a fascination in the depth, it draws one; it makes me feel
as if I could sail off in space, like the birds.”
“Be careful,” thought the Doctor, moving near her to steady her
nerves, if necessary.
“It is as if I should spread my arms--and leap!” cried she. “I could
sail on the air like the eagle; there is no thought of danger.”
“No danger! no danger!” instantly shouted the Bhootan pony driver,
noticing her actions which spoke quite as loud as her words. “No
danger! my horses are sure-footed. No danger with me! The Good
Spirits take care of all I bring, and will not let them dash their
foot against the stones;” and he continued to praise his sure-footed
ponies as able to carry anyone with safety. Miss Winchester concluded
to dismount, nevertheless, and the Doctor assisted her.
Adele began to feel nervous; the atmosphere being rarefied, and she
more sensitive than the others, it told upon her physically, and at
the same time affected her spiritually. She was glad that Paul kept
his pony next hers.
“What is it? are you tired?” asked Paul, noting her pallor.
“No! it’s so really high; we’re so high I don’t feel easy--it’s not
natural; it takes my breath away.”
“Oh, then you feel the effect of the thin air; open your mouth wide
and get the air on both sides of your ear-drums. The pressure will
then be even; you’ll feel better.” Adele did so and felt more at ease.
“How resourceful you are, Paul--so practical; that pressure was
becoming too much for me--I felt faint.” Then after looking around
for some time and observing other things, she remarked with
considerable energy, yet serious:
“These pinnacle views are too much!”
“What is it now?” asked Paul.
“Why--look before you--those are mountains beneath us, yet they look
flat.”
“Yes, they do.”
“They are neither picturesque nor artistic, when you look down upon
them.”
“Then don’t look at them, my dear! Look at me.”
Adele smiled, but continued in her mood.
“Paul! from above, those mountains are not true to nature, they are
not mountains at all.”
“From your point of view, no.”
“From here, the world is all out of drawing, it does not give you a
true idea of itself.”
“It certainly doesn’t look very round,” remarked Paul; “it’s rather
concave, with the horizon as high up as we are.”
“No, the idea is not true,” continued Adele; “seen from here, one
might think our journey had been over a flat country--easy to walk
over--but you know it wasn’t.”
Paul laughed. “No, it wasn’t, my saddle tells me so--it was a hard
road to travel. But the view! that’s all right; Adele, it is the
grandest we have seen. I never expect to see anything finer.”
“It’s too grand for me--it overwhelms.”
“How, Adele?”
“I’m deceived, in so many ways; deceived as to distance and heights,
and I can’t tell what I’m looking at. There now--over there, is a
large bare place, I suppose, but it looks like a small field; and
just the reverse, there is a clump of foliage, it may be a jungle
with tigers, although from here it looks so harmless.”
“Oh, but you must use your common sense and gumption, and not be
misled by experiences.”
“Indeed! Well, what do you call that?”
“Where?”
“That thing over there--what is it?” pointing with her whip.
Paul looked. Far away an irregular cloud-like something stood out
clearly as if raised above the surface of the earth; it gleamed or
glistened faintly in the distance, but being irregular in form,
light in color, and doubtless lifted up because it appeared so, Paul
pronounced it to be a cloud drifting between the lower hills.
“No, Mr. Common Sense with gumption, it is a lake--the pony man just
told me so; the reflection makes it stand up above the forest. I
don’t think much of common sense that mistakes a mud-puddle for a
cloud, do you?”
“Then we won’t photograph it, for cloud effects,” said Paul, feeling
less sure of himself.
“Paul, these high places give a sort of false perspective. I don’t
know how to describe it, but it takes too much common sense to get
correct impressions. I don’t like to be deceived, especially about
things so intensely interesting; or when I’m doing my best to see,
and I don’t see the real thing in return.”
“Well, keep your head level; if I had been on the lower level I
wouldn’t have been mistaken about that lake.”
“That’s just it,” said Adele. “No ifs are allowed on pinnacles,” and
on the instant her pony gave a lurch which threatened to unseat her.
She pulled him up sharply, and in so doing was thrown forward, into
a most uncomfortable position, on the pommel of her saddle. Bracing
up she tugged at the reins, drawing them tighter than was necessary,
which only made the animal more restive. Paul patted the beast on the
neck, and held him until the guide approached.
The Bhootanese came up, swearing outrageously in his native lingo;
declaring that the very devil was in the beast. He had bragged about
his sure-footed ponies, but had not mentioned that they, too, when
in unaccustomed places and particularly on elevations where the
air was thin, were apt to become restless, and were then given to
shyings and backings and misbehaviors quite foreign to them when
on a lower level. The pony was anxious to get down and return
home; the beast knew what was best for him. His Bhootanese master,
enraged at the animal for behaving so, swore until the air was full
of Himalaya imps, Bhootanese blue-devils, Nepaulese demons, and a
varied assortment of ejaculatory grunts, both human and equine, all
summoned for the occasion. Even in Occidental parlance it might be
said that the Devil and his imps had been summoned to meet there on
the pinnacle.
Fortunately this assortment of demon-devils were of native
production; therefore not recognizable by the rest of the party;
although not unknown to the ponies, who soon quieted down.
Miss Winchester, completely surrounded by the ejaculations, of course
secured a choice assortment for literary purposes; she and the demons
seemed to have it all their own way for the time being.
Adele was so preoccupied with keeping her seat in the saddle that
she was conscious of neither imps nor sounds, but after peace was
restored she turned to Paul:
“That man swore, didn’t he?”
“Yes, like a trooper.”
“Well, tell him the Bad Spirit will catch him if he does that sort of
thing.”
“Then, perhaps, he’ll set the Old Boy on us.”
“I would like to see what the Bhootanese Old Boy is like, if he
doesn’t scare my pony.”
“What would you do if you’d see him?”
“Tell him to keep his eye on his servant here--this mule! But we’ll
have no more trouble now, this pony only needs watching.”
“You held on first-rate.”
“Yes, but I didn’t come up here to watch a mule; I came for something
better.”
“Let me rub his nose,” said Paul, leaning over, making friends with
the pony.
Adele, who was indeed rather shaken up and agitated by the incident,
continued to feel nervous. She finally spoke:
“Would you like to know, Paul, how this really makes me feel--this
being so high up in the world?”
“Yes; I’d like to know how being elevated above the level of ordinary
experience affects you.”
“Well! sitting on a pinnacle, as the Doctor calls it, is a fraud.”
“You really think so!”
“Yes, it is deluding; it demands more than I can manage; it takes
entirely too much time trying to hold on.”
“What do you propose to do about it?”
“Why, get down--to our own level--soon as possible.”
There had come into their experience one phase of the great Asiatic
lesson to humanity, namely; to be content in the position, humble or
exalted, to which they had been born. The things seen had actually
embodied things unseen.
XL
A GLIMPSE OF TAOISM
After the exhilarating ascent and sudden descent from Sunkukphoo,
Adele expressed a desire to see the valleys. “We’ve been on the roof
garden, amid the flying buttresses; let us visit the cloisters, and
see the crypt.”
The Bhootan verger led the way along the pony-path in front of
their Peek-o’-Tip-Bungalow, to the left--the descent was rapid. The
mountains closed in upon them. Rhododendrons as lofty as oaks shaded
them from the outer world. A strikingly beautiful region of another
type, where blossoms fringed the trees against the azure blue;
and what was still more beautiful, there were bouquets of scarlet
appearing against the snow-fields and glaciers.
“What striking contrasts!” exclaimed Paul, “yet the effect is not
overdone; it’s quite natural.”
“Nothing seems overdone in this Cathedral,” said Adele, not dreaming
what she was about to encounter. Miss Winchester helped her out. “I
must make a sketch of these wonderful contrasts; it will suggest a
superb color-scheme for an embroidered altar cloth. I wish I knew one
of the monks or ecclesiastics in charge here; we could ask him to
show us the vestments in the Sacristy.”
Miss Winchester’s wish for a monk was soon gratified. A turn in
the road brought them face to face with a Taoist Temple; a row of
so-called young monks sat upon the ground before the door. The
Lamas wore masks, as well as parti-colored garments, and they
carried long, slender bell trumpets, which they kindly tooted to
the accompaniment of cracked drums. The colors of their vestments
and costume in general were æsthetic as a patchwork quilt from the
revolutionary period of Sally Ross--only far more ancient.
Mrs. Cultus and Miss Winchester, both Colonial Dames, were at once
sentimentally affected by the color schemes and the designs of these
very old historical vestments. It was impossible to be “moved” by
their artistic excellence, so their historical value became at once
more important to notice. As to the masks, they were supposed to
represent demons, being in design diabolical, no doubt very true to
the life; and the trumpets shrill.
Adele and the Doctor had little appreciation for the crude colors, or
the terrific din. The latter, finding himself an unwilling listener
to a “Rhapsodie Lamanesque” on drums, searched for something to stuff
in his ears to soften the sound; he would have been willing to put
his fist in the bell of the leading trumpet, but such things were
inopportune. The effect was startling in the extreme; so very abrupt
after the exquisite tone-color contrasts they had just been admiring.
In fact, even their Manchu ponies halted, and wagged their ears to
shake off the sound. Adele’s animal turned one ear backward and the
other forward in astonishment.
Adele gave a new twist to the old line: “Where every prospect pleases
and only the music is vile.”
Miss Winchester’s churchly expectations received a severe shock, for
in this Cathedral monks were grotesque; but still they were monks,
although the ideal peaceful life of a monk did not appear.
Curiosity got the better of Paul; he was off his pony and confabbing
with the Lamas before the others had recovered from their amazement.
A Lama took off his mask to allow his own voice to be heard more
distinctly. He was a young fellow and rather good-looking, although
shaven with a tonsure; and quite as healthy in appearance as many a
monk who advocated asceticism. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the
racket and also the masquerade. They were all of them, the Lamas, not
unlike a party of children playing at “theatre” in a nursery.
“Come,” said Paul, “we are invited to enter--it is one of your
chapels, Adele.”
The Taoist Temple was an unpretentious, one-storied structure, of
small dimensions, with projecting eaves. To the heathen inquisitives
who accepted this invitation, it proved to be a curio shop without
and within. Under the eaves were set vertically, into the front and
side walls, cylinders about two feet high and a foot in diameter
each, a double row, each cylinder held in position by a vertical
spindle through the middle. The double rows extended around these
three sides of the building.
The Chief Lama entered by the central door, the foreign heathen
following him. Passing around the interior, he gave each cylinder
a smart spank with the flat of his hand, causing it to revolve
rapidly on its vertical spindle. In a moment all were in motion, and
the whole house buzzing. The cylinders were reeling off prayers by
machinery at a rapid rate; and the Lama, holding his simple rosary
made of beans, stood ready to accelerate any particular cylinder
which lagged behind.
There could be no doubt as to the exact intention, the sincerity
and consequent efficacy of such prayers, simply because the proper
wording for a prayer was printed upon a slip of paper carefully
wrapped around the spindle inside the cylinder. Even if one’s
thoughts did wander, the printed matter did not--the machine did
the rest. All the worshipers had to do was to obey orders to attend
service, and whirl the machine; the Lamas would take care of these
wheels both inside and out, and would also give any stranger within
their gates a little wheel for hand use, to take home with him, if he
chose to pay for it.
Mrs. Cultus, who was still far from strong, no sooner entered the
Temple than she found herself surrounded by buzzing wheels on three
sides of the room; the fourth side occupied by what she called a
“cabinet of curios.” So many rotary prayers, whirling simultaneously,
were very confusing, especially as some of the wheels prayed in one
direction and some others in just the opposite. Mrs. Cultus soon
grasped the situation, however.
“I must have one. They are the most convenient things I ever saw. I
did not know these Taoists had such Yankee notions in this line.”
An innocent (_sic_) Lama promptly offered to sell her a small wheel,
which, upon her return, she discovered had been especially adapted
to heathen requirements. The thoughtful Lama had removed some of
his own prayers and had substituted items for which he knew the
Christians were constantly praying. He had inserted slips cut from
advertisements in the bazaar.
“Wanted, to rent--a bungalow! Wanted, bachelor’s quarters with good
drainage! Wanted, a good ayah (nurse);” and he had also kindly left
those petitions which all humanity should offer, of course:
“Wanted, a baby; boy preferred. Girls need not apply.”
It was lucky that Mrs. Cultus did not discover the tenor of these new
prayers until later, or she might have felt constrained to preach
a heathen sermon herself to the innocent Lamas in that chapel. At
this time, however, she held the wheel in her hand, twirling it,
innocently praying (according to the service interpretation) for what
would have surprised her greatly had her prayers been answered.
The Lama felt well pleased. The heathens were doing as they were
told. In time they would make good Taoists.
Miss Winchester also took much interest in this service, but with a
tinge of the missionary spirit which had escaped Mrs. Cultus.
“It is curious, isn’t it?” said she. “I feel like spinning round
and round, myself--not alone, like those dancing dervishes we saw
at Cairo; I want a partner. But I can’t decide which wheel to
choose--curious, isn’t it?”
“I would not have believed it,” said Adele, “if I had not seen it.
It affects my eyes in exactly the same way that my ears are affected
when a congregation repeat the same words over and over again without
thinking what they are saying.”
“It is very monotonous,” said Paul. “I suppose the Lamas use wheels
to save talking--possibly to save preaching; it does save the sermon,
yet brings people to church.”
“It must amuse them, too,” said Adele; “they are only children, you
know.”
“But grown-up children,” remarked the Doctor.
“Yes, and that reminds me; I’ve heard before of folk condemned for
much speaking without thinking, and for sounding trumpets in the
synagogue and streets; we’ve certainly found it here by the roadside.”
The scene thus far had been antipathetic to Adele, to both her
artistic and to her religious sense; still her sympathy for the poor
Taoists was excited. The real missionary spirit arose within her;
but what could she do? It seemed preposterous to attempt or to say
anything just then; she turned toward Doctor Wise.
The Doctor was standing near a very old woman who had just entered, a
poor creature in rags and tatters, her face smeared with dried blood
and other red pigments, a veritable hag in outer appearance, bowed
down with hard work and suffering. Even the Lamas made way for her,
however, for she was known to be a very devout old creature, who
spent much time in the Temple, who almost lived there; in fact, she
was a sort of priestess among them, the very priestess who had heard
Adele singing on the heights above her, and had said it was the Good
Spirits talking in the air.
The poor old soul had come to her customary holy place, and was
now evidently surprised to find it invaded by such a coterie of
strangers. Her attitude of intense curiosity soon changed to an
obsequious inclination of the body--the poor creature was doing her
very best to meet the case, to welcome them to her temple.
Adele felt drawn to her because she was so hideous to behold--so
sure is it that extremes will meet if truth is in each. Both being
sincere, each after her own fashion, the poor Taoist quickly
appreciated when one of her own sex came nearer to her; and an
experience altogether truthful followed.
The eyes of the priestess surveyed Adele from hat to shoes; and
womanly instinct once gratified, her eyes brightened. Adele smiled
responsively; utterly forgetful that she herself was indeed
beautiful, her heart went straight forward in visible sympathy with
the poor creature before her.
The light in those old Taoist eyes became still brighter--it was
wonderful this time--with that Asiatic fire which characterizes the
religious enthusiast. An idea had evidently struck the priestess;
what was it?
Turning from Adele she hobbled across the room, each step an effort,
to where stood an enormous prayer-wheel over six feet high, the most
important wheel in the Temple. Squatting on the floor beside it, she
fumbled under it as if trying to find something.
It was Adele’s turn to be curious.
The priestess, now fired by religious zeal, drew from underneath an
iron bar bent at one end, not unlike a heavy poker. She adjusted it
underneath to a crank on the wheel, and began tugging and struggling.
Paul exclaimed at once: “She’s trying to start that immense machine!”
“It looks so,” said Adele quietly.
“To pray with that is hard work.”
“She is not conscious of the effort.”
“Well, I should be.”
“I never knew before what it meant,” said Adele.
“What?”
“Why, to pray with all your strength--don’t you see?”
“Yes.”