Part 27

And the men of Tibet are quite as much slaves to this superstition as the women. A friend of mine when staying at Dārjīling had some conversation on serious subjects with an apparently sensible native, and observed with surprise that all the while he was engaged in talking with the Buddhist, the latter continued diligently whirling a prayer-cylinder with great velocity. My friend, being unacquainted with Tibetan customs, came away from his colloquy under the impression that Buddhists regard Christians as dangerous lunatics possessed with evil spirits, which require specially active measures in the way of exorcism. It did not occur to him that the Buddhist was merely intent on redeeming every instant of time for the purpose of storing up merit by prayer.

And the hold which this extraordinary superstition has upon the population is still more forcibly impressed on the traveller who penetrates into the regions beyond Dārjīling. He may there see immense prayer-cylinders set up like mills, and kept in incessant revolution, not by the will or hand of man, but by the blind, unconscious force of wind and water.

It is even said that great mechanical ingenuity is displayed by the monks in some parts of Tibet, their inventive powers being stimulated by a burning desire to economize time and labour in the production of prayer-merit by machinery.

An intricate arrangement of huge wheels and other wheels within wheels, like the works of a clock, is connected with rows of cylinders and made to revolve rapidly by means of heavy weights. An infinite number of prayers are repeated in this manner by a single monk, who takes a minute or two to wind up the complicated spiritual machinery, and then hastens to help his brothers in industrial occupations—the whole fraternity feeling that the ingenious contrivance of praying by clock-work enables them to promote the common weal by making the most of both worlds. The story goes that, in times of special need and emergency, additional weights are attached to the machinery, and, of course, increased cogency given to the rotatory prayers. It is to be hoped that when European inventions find their way across the Himālayas, steam-power may not be pressed into the service of these gross superstitions.

The use of prayer-wheels of various kinds is also common in Japan, as described in Sir Edward Reed’s work.

But praying by machinery is not all. Beneficial results are believed to accrue through the carving of the all-powerful six syllables on every conceivable object.

The traveller, as he walks along, sees the mystic words impressed on the stones at his feet, on rocks, doors, monuments, and trees. Indeed, rich and zealous Buddhists maintain at their own expense, companies of Lāmas for the sole object of propagating the Maṇi-padme formula. These strange missionaries may occasionally be encountered, chisel and hammer in hand, traversing field, hill, dale, and desert, their only mission being to engrave the sacred six syllables on every rock in their path (Huc, ii. 194).

Absolutely incalculable is the grand total of Maṇi-padmes thus placed to the credit of the world of living beings during the short space of twenty-four hours. Yet, at the end of the New Year’s festival in Tibet, the chief Lāma will sometimes pretend to proclaim the exact sum of mystic syllables supposed to have been repeated during its continuance, amounting perhaps to billions upon billions, for the consolation of all those faithful Buddhists who, oppressed by the evils of life, are seeking for some antidote.

But the ‘jewel-lotus’ is not the only antidote. There are other short prayer-formularies, such as Om Vajra-pāṇi-Hūm (addressed to the Bodhi-sattva Vajra-pāṇi, p. 201), and other still more mystical ejaculations (such as Om ah Hūm); and magical sentences, called Dhāranī, and profoundly significant monosyllables, such as Ram, Phaṭ, Hṛim, Hṛīm, Ṛim, Ṛīm, Hṛīs.

And here in connexion with the ubiquity of prayer-formularies, we must not omit to notice the _Praying-walls_, that is, the long stone walls or banks called (from the ‘jewel-lotus’ prayer inscribed upon them) _Maṇi_[178], or in the provincial dialect Man Dang (variously Man-dong, Mendong).

These remarkable stone-structures, peculiar to Lāmism, are erected by the side of high-roads, and in frequented thoroughfares, with the simple object of aiding in the accumulation of prayer-merit. Some are only a few feet long, six feet high, and from six to twelve feet broad; others have been met with nearly 1000 yards long, with pyramidal Stūpas[179] or Ćaityas (in Tibetan Ćhortens) at each end. Inserted in these walls are slabs on which the six-syllabled, and other prayer-formulas, and sometimes images of saints, are carved and dedicated as votive offerings. Passing travellers acquire merit by keeping them on their left side[180], so that they may follow the letters of the inscription without necessarily repeating the words[181].

In the same connexion we may advert to _Praying-flags_ and _Praying-staffs_. And I may mention that, while staying at Dārjīling, I visited a village to which a monastery is attached, and, on approaching the spot, was surprised to see the whole neighbourhood studded with poles from which long flags were flying. On the tops of the poles were curious ornaments like caps, made of coloured cloth with flounces. I naturally supposed that I had arrived on a gala day, and that at least a great Lāma or other high functionary was expected, perhaps to lay the first stone of some new building connected with the monastery. On inquiry, however, I ascertained that there was nothing unusual about the appearance of the village, which was merely praying, according to custom, by means of its flag-staffs. Every time the wind, which happened to be blowing fresh, extended the long flags, a vast number of prayers were credited to the inhabitants who were themselves all absent, and probably hard at work either in the fields or at Dārjīling.

I managed to obtain facsimiles of some of the flags. On them are inscribed various versions of the inevitable Maṇi-padme formulary, together with figures of the ‘flying-horse’ (Lungta, strictly rLuṅ-rta, ‘wind-horse’)[182] and other symbols, such as those of the Norbu gem[183] and of the Phurbu—which are held to be peculiarly efficacious in warding off evil spirits or neutralizing the diseases inflicted by them. Indeed in most cases these flags are regarded by the peasantry as talismans or charms to protect the village from the malice of mischievous ghosts and demons, believed to haunt the atmosphere and swarm everywhere around.

Here are some of the mystic formularies inscribed on my flags. They resemble Ṡaiva Mantras and Dhāraṇīs—that is, mystical words or sentences used as spells:—

Om maṇi padme Hūm Hring, Om Vajra-pāṇi Hūm, Om ā Hūm, Om Vāg-īṡvarī Mūm, Sarva-siddhi-phala Hūm, Om muni muni mahā-muni, Ṡākya-muni svāhā, Om vajra-sattva Hūm, Hulu hulu, Rulu rulu, Hūm Phaṭ, etc. (Compare my ‘Brāhmanism,’ etc. p. 197).

One flag in my possession has representations of four animals at the four corners, viz. a Tiger, Lion, Eagle, and Dragon[184]—supposed to act as guards against evil spirits. It also has an inscription in Tibetan which was translated for me by Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās, thus:—

‘Reverence be to the Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas! Thus hath it been heard by me—once on a time when the adorable Ṡākya-Buddha was seated on a marble throne amid the gods of the Trayastriṉṡa heaven, Indra, the Prince of Gods, arrived there, after being completely defeated by the demons (Asuras). Seeing the Buddha, and throwing himself at his feet, he thus reverentially addressed him:—“Oh, my Lord, we the gods of the Trayastriṉṡa (heaven) have suffered a complete defeat at the hands of the demons; instruct us, what are we to do? how are we to triumph over our enemies?” To this the adorable one replied:—“O lord of gods, take this mystical formula called Gyatshar gyi tsemoi Punggyan, which, when repeated, will make you unconquerable. I, too, in my former existence of a Bodhi-sattva found it efficacious in securing victory.”’

It is of course a work of great merit to erect prayer-flags. They form a conspicuous feature in every landscape throughout Tibet, fluttering on hills and in valleys, by the roadside, and on the river bank, on walls and on the tops of houses, in streets, squares, and gardens.

Then, again, the duty of a constant repetition of prayer-formulæ and mystical sentences has led Northern Buddhists to employ _Rosaries_, which were used both by Hindūs and Buddhists long before they came into vogue in Europe. Without these necessary aids to devotion the long rounds of repetition could not be accurately completed. In Northern Buddhist countries rosaries ought to consist of 108 beads, which in Tibet are said to represent the 108[185] volumes of the Kanjur. The same number of beads is used by the worshippers of Vishṇu, who use the rosary to aid them in repeating any one of the names of Vishṇu 800 times, the eight additional beads marking each century of repetitions.

The commonest Buddhist rosaries are made of wood, or pebbles, or berries, or bone[186]; the more costly, of turquoise, coral, amber, or silver, or even of pearls and gems. If a rosary made of the bones of some holy Lāma can be procured, it is of course prized above all others. Sometimes a Dorje is appended. Northern Buddhist worshippers hold their rosaries (like Roman Catholics) in the right hand, and move on the beads with the left, and they will do this while talking together or even quarrelling. In China and Japan Buddhist rosaries are often arranged in two rings. They sometimes consist of enormous beads with relics in the central bead.

Be it observed, however, that the prayer-formularies of Buddhists are not always a mere unintelligible string of words and syllables, muttered, iterated, and reiterated with the aid of rosaries. Their prayers sometimes contain lofty sentiments. For instance, the two vagabond mendicant monks seen by me at Dārjīling (described at p. 267) went about chanting the following:—

Reverence to all the noble Father-Lāmas! I address this to the feet of Duang our patron saint. I, Milaraspa[187], sing it. If the soul be white (enlightened), it must be white inside and outside. I am born in consequence of the works of this world. My earthly father is a sower of the seed of sin. My mother is the soil which receives the seed of sin. The child is myself tied to the father by the cord of sin. When you think of your earthly father, think also of your Lāma (spiritual father). Your earthly father is the source of your sin. Your Lāma frees you from sin[188].

But this song, which was repeated over and over again, invariably concluded by a repetition of the inevitable six-syllabled formula. This they repeated very rapidly, pronouncing it as usual, ‘Om maṇi-pamme Hūm,’ and adding the mystical syllable Hṛīs. Their chanting was accompanied by an incessant agitation of their ḍamaru or sacred drum, which I was able to purchase. It is shaped like two hemispheres, joined on their convex sides, and is encircled by sacred shells. It is sounded by means of buttons attached to two pendulous strips of leather. The sound made by these drums is out of all proportion to their size. It may be heard at a great distance, and is thought to be highly efficacious in frightening away evil spirits, who dislike loud noises of all kinds. Here is an exact representation of the sacred drum now in my possession:—

Again, Dr. Eitel (Lectures, iii.) mentions a manual of daily prayer used by Northern Buddhists, which shows that striking words are sometimes chanted, though they may be in Sanskṛit, and therefore unintelligible to those who repeat them. For instance, the following:—

‘May all the Buddhas abide in me, instruct and enlighten me with knowledge and perfection, free me, deliver me, cleanse me, purify me; and may the whole universe be set free (Sarva-tathāgatā māṃ samāvasantu buddhyā siddhyā bodhaya vibodhaya moćaya vimoćaya ṡodhaya viṡodhaya samantaṃ moćaya)!’

Before, therefore, concluding this Lecture we must acknowledge, in fairness to the inhabitants of Tibet, that much of the spirit of religion may be mingled with their superstitions. The words of their prayers are not merely repeated by machinery, written on paper, and inscribed on rocks and stones. The voices of men and women, if not their thoughts, often go heartily with uttered prayers. The note of prayer is raised at all times and seasons—in the morning, mid-day, and evening, in private and in public, at home or abroad, in the midst of labour and idleness, in lying down and rising up, in moving about and keeping still, on the march and on the battle-field, on mournful occasions, and in the midst of joy and laughter. Nor is any one ashamed of praying aloud or praying together in the open streets and squares of crowded towns.

‘There exists,’ says the French Missionary (ii. 194), ‘a very touching custom at Lhāssa. In the evening, just as the day is verging on its decline, all the Tibetans stop business and meet together, men, women, and children, according to their sex and age, in the principal parts of the town and in the public squares. As soon as groups are formed, every one kneels down, and they begin slowly and in undertones to chant prayers.

‘The religious concerts produced by these numerous assemblages create throughout the town a solemn harmony, which operates forcibly on the soul. The first time we witnessed this spectacle, we could not help drawing a painful comparison between this pagan town, where all prayed together, and the cities of Europe, where people would blush to make the sign of the cross in public.’

LECTURE XIV. _Sacred Places._

It was only to be expected, that Buddhism, closely connected as it was with Brāhmanism and Hindūism, and yet in some respects opposed to those systems, should have certain sacred places and hallowed regions, some of which were identical with those of Brāhmanism and Hindūism, and some peculiarly its own.

In the Mahā-parinibbāna-sutta (V. 16-22, Rhys Davids), we have the following declaration:—

‘There are four places which the believing man should visit as a pilgrim with feelings of reverence and awe. The place at which he can say, “Here the Tathāgata (one of the names of Buddha, see p. 23) was born.” The place at which he can say, “Here the Tathāgata attained to perfect insight and enlightenment.” The place at which he can say, “Here the Law was first preached by the Tathāgata.” The place at which he can say, “Here the Tathāgata passed finally away in that utter passing away which leaves nothing whatever behind” (see p. 142, note, and p. 477).

‘And they who die, while with believing heart they journey on such pilgrimages, shall be reborn, in the happy realms of heaven.’

The Chinese traveller, Fā-hien, names the same four sacred places (Chap. xxxi.), and says that the situation of the four great Stūpas (see p. 504) has been fixed, namely, (1) where the Buddha was born, (2) where he attained wisdom, (3) where he began to turn the wheel of his Law, (4) where he attained Pari-nirvāṇa (p. 142). Compare engraving of sculpture opposite p. 477.

Elsewhere Fā-hien mentions two other sacred spots—the place where the Buddha discomfited the advocates of erroneous doctrines[189], and the place where he descended after ascending to the Trayastriṉṡa heaven (see p. 414 of this volume), to preach the Law to his mother (Legge’s Fā-hien, 68).

These places are all situated within the area of the sacred land of Buddhism (see map opposite p. 21);—that is to say, the land which was the scene of the Buddha’s itineration for forty-five years—a region about 300 miles long, by nearly 200 broad, lying in Gangetic India, within the modern provinces of Oudh and Behār (Bihār for Vihāra), or the ancient kingdoms of Kosala and Magadha, and having Ṡrāvastī and Buddha-Gayā for its limit towards the north and south respectively.

It will be interesting to note a few particulars in regard to these and other sacred spots scattered throughout this region, in the following order:—Kapila-vastu, Buddha-Gayā, Sārnāth near Benares, Rāja-gṛiha, Ṡrāvastī (often written Ṡrāvasti), Vaiṡālī, Kauṡāmbi, Nālanda, Saṅkāṡya, Sākeṭa (Ajūdhyā), Kanyā-kubja (Kanauj), Pāṭali-putra (Patnā), Kesarīya, Kuṡi-nagara. The map opposite p. 21 will make these clear.

To begin with the Buddha’s birth-place (see p. 21).

_Kapila-vastu._

Kapila-vastu (in Pāli, Kapila-vatthu) was long searched for by archæologists in vain, but is now identified by General Sir A. Cunningham and Mr. Carlleyle with Bhūila, a village surrounded by buried brickwork in the Bastī district under the Nepāl mountains, about twenty-five miles north-east from Faizābād, twelve north-west from Bastī, and one hundred and twenty north of Benares. Both Fā-hien (Legge, 67) and Hiouen Thsang describe the neighbouring Lumbinī (Lavaṇī) garden, where the Buddha was born from the right side of his mother (see p. 23, and engraving opposite p. 477). They also mention the Arrow-fountain where Gautama contended with others of his tribe in a shooting-match. The legend is (p. 24) that he gained the victory by shooting an arrow which passed through the target, buried itself in the ground, and caused a clear spring of water to flow forth (Legge, 65-67; Beal, ii. 23, 24). This name Ṡara-Kūpa, ‘arrow-fountain,’ has now been corrupted into Sar-Kuia (or Sar-Kuhiya), and the spot has been identified (Cunningham’s ‘Reports of Survey,’ xii. 188).

It might have been expected that so sacred a place as Kapila-vastu—the birth-place of Buddha and the scene of his education and youthful exploits—would have been a favourite place of pilgrimage for Buddhists through all time; but we learn from the two Chinese travellers, that even in their day (from the fourth to the seventh century) the whole neighbourhood was a desert and the town in ruins (Beal, i. 50; ii. 14). The reason probably is that Hindūism gained the ascendancy over Buddhism in certain localities, and that when this happened the Brāhmans took pains to obliterate all traces of the rival creed. In later times Muhammadan invasions contributed to the same result.

_Buddha-Gayā._

This was the place where the Buddha obtained perfect knowledge and enlightenment after his sexennial course of fasting and meditation (see p. 31 of this volume). It is situated six or seven miles from the town of Gayā, and about sixty miles from Patnā and Bankipur. It is of all Buddhist sacred places the most sacred, and abounds in profoundly interesting memorials of early Buddhism.

Of course it was only to be expected that memorial structures intended to mark important epochs in the life of the extinct Buddha, and calculated to foster feelings of reverence in the minds of his followers, should have been erected at this and various other holy spots of ground consecrated by the presence and acts of Gautama on great occasions. And of all such Buddhist monuments the ancient pyramidal temple at Buddha-Gayā, which I visited in 1876 and 1884, is the most striking and full of interest. Probably a monument of some kind was erected there not very long after the Buddha’s death, and Hiouen Thsang (see p. 399) mentions the temple built there by Aṡoka. The temple which I saw on the occasion of my first visit was probably not built till the middle of the second century, but was erected on the foundation of Aṡoka’s temple, the ruins of which are traceable under the present one[190]. The materials consist of bluish bricks, plastered with lime. Hiouen Thsang states that in his time it had eleven stories and an altitude of about 165 feet. It also had niches in each story, with a golden statue of Buddha in each niche. The whole was crowned with the representation of an Amalaka fruit (Emblic myrobalan) in gilt copper (Cunningham’s Report, i. 5). The Burmese probably restored the temple between 1035 and 1078 A.D. Though falling into decay in 1876, its appearance struck me as exceedingly imposing,—even more so than that of the grand pyramidal towers, built over the entrances to the great South Indian temples[191]. The annexed engraving of this ancient monument as it appeared in 1880, before its restoration, is from a photograph by Mr. Beglar, taken on the spot, and enlarged by Mr. Austen.

Erected about the middle of the second century over the ruins of Aṡoka’s temple, at the spot where Gautama attained Buddhahood.

The original object of its erection seems to have been simply and solely to serve as a monument, and not as a Dāgaba or receptacle for relics. Very soon, however, monuments of this kind were made to enshrine images, and were used as temples and places of worship. On inquiry I found that the ancient image or images of Buddha, which once occupied the shrine in the ancient Buddha-Gayā temple, had been destroyed or carried off at different times[192], and that another stone image, believed to have been carved in the eighth century, had been recently substituted for it. It is remarkable that during the process of restoring the so-called ‘diamond throne,’ on which the statues were placed, a mass of fragments of coral, sapphire, cornelian, crystal, ruby, pearl, ivory, and gold, but no diamond, was found compacted or cemented together in front of it[193].

At the back of the raised terrace which surrounded the ancient temple was a Pīpal or sacred fig-tree, fabled to be the very tree under which Gautama sat during his course of profound meditation ending in Buddhahood (see p. 31). Its vitality was on the wane, for its decaying branches drooped over the parapet as if they sought, like those of a neighbouring Banyan tree, to gain new life by rooting themselves in the ground beneath. Some Buddhist pilgrims happened, at the moment of my visit, to be worshipping at the temple, deputed by the King of Burma to present offerings. I observed that they had brought packets of gold-leaf, and had gilded the stone steps that surrounded the tree. Having performed this act of homage, they sat near muttering their prayer-formularies. No doubt they believed it to be the very Bodhi-tree of Gautama’s time, the stem of which had been miraculously preserved, though, had it been really so, the stem would have been about twenty-three centuries old. Considering the well-known properties of the Pīpal tree, it is possible that the worshippers were, after all, paying honour to the descendant of the original tree, the fact, no doubt, being that as each tree began to decay a new one was produced, by the dropping of seeds into the old roots and the springing up of fresh scions. Probably most of the sacred trees in the neighbourhood of Buddhist temples throughout India, Ceylon, and Burma were originally raised from seeds brought from the ancient Buddha-Gayā tree.

It is a received tradition that a shoot from this tree was taken by the Missionary Mahendra, son of Aṡoka, in the third century B.C. to Ceylon, and planted at Anurādha-pura, where its descendant still flourishes.

When I again visited Buddha-Gayā in 1884, I found that the old pyramidal temple had been restored according (as is conjectured) to Hiouen Thsang’s description of the Vihāra of his day.