MOUNT OMEI

Very few of the buildings now existing on Mount Omei can boast of antiquity, for a damp climate and the ravages of fire have in the past made short work of their fragile timbers. The monasteries are humble structures, being simply one-storied bungalows of wood. Compared with the richly-carved teakwood wats of Siam and kyaungs of Burma, they are unpretentious buildings with little decoration, and what there is possesses small artistic merit. Over the doorways and under the eaves hang sundry massive wooden boards, resplendent with richly-gilded characters, giving the name of the monastery and brief quotations from the Buddhist scriptures. Most of the tablets containing inscriptions or quotations have been presented by devout pilgrims, but the periodical regilding of the characters is paid for out of the corporate funds. The interiors are generally more imposing; for every monastery on Mount Omei is also a temple, and the decoration of the halls containing the images of the Buddha and his saints is generally on a fairly lavish scale. The larger temples have a series of such halls one behind the other, with courts or quadrangles intervening, the sides of each quadrangle being occupied by the monks' living quarters. There are also spacious quarters for visitors. The office in which the financial and other secular affairs of the monastery are administered is generally a small room on the left side of the first hall of images, corresponding to a room on the other side which is used as a kind of porter's lodge. In the latter room the monks spend a great deal of their time in the cold weather, and sit huddled round a charcoal brazier. From the middle of the room they can see, through the open door, every one who enters and leaves the temple by the main entrance; and one of them is generally deputed to attend on every group of visitors or pilgrims. All pilgrims bring their own food with them—the Chinese their rice, and the Tibetans their tsamba; but those whose appearance entitles them to respect, or who have given a substantial donation to the funds of the establishment, are invited to drink tea and eat sweetmeats, and warm themselves by the charcoal fire. The Buddhistic injunction to avoid taking life is rigorously obeyed on Mount Omei by visitors as well as residents, all of whom conform to a strictly vegetarian diet. The only persons who ever disregard this rule are some inconsiderate Europeans. Small subscriptions—generally in the form of copper "cash"—are placed on an offertory plate, or on the altar table in front of one of the principal images, and are deposited there by the pilgrims after they have finished their devotions. Those who wish to leave a permanent record of their visit, or whose donation exceeds a tael (say three shillings), inscribe their names or paste their cards in the subscription book, with a statement of the amount of their donations. An ingenious plan has been devised to relieve pilgrims of the necessity of carrying large quantities of coin up the mountain, and at the same time to invalidate excuses of want of money. In the town of Omei-hsien, where every pilgrim spends the night before beginning the ascent, he is visited by a banker or broker, who offers him little paper notes or chits called fei tzu, bearing various face-values from ten taels down to one hundred cash (about twopence). They are printed from wooden blocks, and in many cases the amount of money represented is inserted in writing. The pilgrim selects as many fei tzu as he thinks he may require or can afford, and pays over their face-value to the banker. The notes are handed as occasion requires, or benevolence prompts, to the temple treasurers, or are deposited on the altars, and are received in the temples as readily as coin. When a considerable collection of them has been made in any monastery they are sent down to the banker, who deducts his very small commission and settles the account either by sending silver in return, or by crediting the monastery with the amount in his books.

The monasteries naturally vary in size. Some of them are the homes of a score or more of monks and acolytes, while the smaller ones shelter but three or four. When a monastery is destroyed by fire or other cause, its elderly or infirm inmates lodge themselves temporarily in one of the neighbouring religious houses, while the more energetic go forth on a pilgrimage—sometimes as far as the Eastern sea-board—carrying with them a donation book for the purpose of collecting funds for rebuilding. When the monastery arises again from its ashes it is practically a new foundation with new endowments, even its name being sometimes altered. In spite of the apathy concerning religious matters that strikes every European observer as characteristic of China to-day, it is a significant fact that large subscriptions for religious purposes can always be obtained from the Chinese layman notwithstanding his protestations of contempt for the monastic ideal and for the idle and useless lives led by the vast majority of Chinese Buddhist monks.

Passing by the Pao-ning monastery, which is situated on the plain between the city and the mountain-base, I visited the monasteries of the White Dragon (Pai Lung Ssu), and the Golden Dragon (Chin Lung Ssu), and stopped for the night at the Wan-nien Ssu, formerly the White Water Monastery of P'u Hsien. This is one of the largest establishments on the mountain, and its written history goes back to the third century, if not further. It contains many objects of interest, the chief of which is the life-size bronze elephant discovered, or rather first described, by Baber. The very curious spiral-roofed brick building in which it stands—believed by Baber to have been erected by Hindu Buddhists not later than the sixth century of the Christian era—is unfortunately so small and shut in that it is impossible either to photograph the elephant or to view it from a proper standpoint. Baber believed that this edifice was, next to the Great Wall, the oldest building in China of fairly authentic antiquity, and he considered that the elephant was the most ancient bronze casting of any great size in existence,—perhaps fifteen centuries old. I have some reason, however, to doubt the alleged antiquity of both building and elephant.50 Upon the animal's back is a bronze statue of P'u Hsien P'u Sa (Samanta Bhadra Bodhisattva), who, as I have said, is supposed to have come from India to Mount Omei on an elephant. Among modern curiosities at the Wan-nien Ssu is a small alabaster image of Gautama Buddha, which was recently brought from Burma by a Chinese Buddhist monk who had been on pilgrimage to the shrines of Mandalay and Rangoon. The same pilgrim presented a coloured print of the great Shwe Dagon pagoda at Rangoon, which is regarded by the monks of Wan-nien as a precious work of art, though its intrinsic value is, of course, trifling. There is also, in a separate building called the Hai Hui T'ang,51 a supposed tooth-relic of Buddha, which is treated with strange lack of reverence.52 But it is only an elephant's molar, and the monks know it.

Wan-nien Ssu is situated at a height of about 3,500 feet above the sea-level. The summit of the mountain (11,000 feet53) is therefore still a long way off; but as I succeeded in reaching it on the evening of the day on which I left Wan-nien Ssu, in spite of the fact that the path was often obliterated by snow and ice, I satisfied myself that the difficulty of the climb has often been much exaggerated. In dry weather, indeed, there is no reason why a healthy man of average physical vigour should not accomplish in one day the whole climb from base to summit: though such a feat of endurance would prevent him from paying much attention to the objects of interest on the way. The mountain sides are luxuriantly wooded, and it is only when the path approaches the edge of a precipice or a steep slope that any extensive view can be obtained during the greater part of the ascent. The silver fir, evergreen-oak, pine, cypress, laurel, birch, chestnut, spruce, nan-mu, maple (several species) and camptotheca acuminata are all to be met with, and there are innumerable flowering plants and ferns; but the character of the flora naturally varies a great deal at the different altitudes. On the exposed parts of the summit there is little but dwarf bamboos, junipers and rhododendrons, though in sheltered places I noticed the silver fir, liquidambar, yew, willow, pirus, and several kinds of shrubs. Other trees, like the alder, Chinese ash, and banyan, are confined to the plain or to the lower slopes. The banyans54 of the Omei plain are magnificent trees, some of them of enormous girth.

Below Wan-nien Ssu I left behind me spring warmth and sprouting vegetation. By the time I had reached a height of 4,000 feet there were patches of snow on the roadside; 2,000 feet higher all visible trace of the path was gone, icicles hung from the leafless trees, while small acolytes from the monasteries, clad in their wadded winter garments, were busily sweeping away the snow in front of the gateways. When I left Omei-hsien my thermometer registered 64° Fahr. At Wan-nien Ssu the temperature had sunk to 49°; on the summit of the mountain there were 13 degrees of frost after sunset.

The next temple to Wan-nien Ssu is the Kuan Hsin Ting,55 a poor building which was apparently in sole charge of a child of nine. The next is the Hsi Hsin So.56 These words may be interpreted as "The Haven of the Tranquil Heart," but they also mean "The Pilgrim's Rest," for hsi hsin are the words used to translate or explain the Sanskrit term sramana,57 an ascetic or monk. The records of the mountain explain the name by saying that when the pilgrim reaches this place, he can no longer hear the growlings and mutterings of the "dusty world": his heart therefore becomes as peaceful as his surroundings. In the building is a large image of MaitrÊya, the "Buddha of the Future," who is supposed to be in the Tushita heaven, awaiting incarnation.

Passing by the Ch'ang Lao P'ing58 temple, the next is the Ch'u Tien,59 otherwise known as the Tsu Tien. Tsu is a kind of red-eyed duck, and the allusion is to the duck-like shape of a neighbouring rock. The temple contains rather life-like images of the eighteen lo-han.60 These Chinese words represent the Sanskrit arhat or arahat, "venerable" or "worthy." We meet with arhats in the oldest Buddhist scriptures. They were the worthiest and most enlightened of Buddha's disciples; men who fully understood the doctrine as it was delivered to them by their master, and accepted it as a final statement of truth. Arahatship, as we have seen in the last chapter, is the goal aimed at by all true Buddhists, and implies a release from all delusion, ignorance and sorrow. In technical language the arahat is the man who has acquired the "four distinctive qualifications" (patisambhidÂ) and has attained the state of "final sanctification." In the hands of the Mahayanists the arahats come to be persons possessing magical powers,61 such as that of moving without support through space, in which respect they are the nearest approach to the mysterious Tibetan beings invented by the self-styled "theosophists": but arahatship as an ideal becomes altogether subordinate to that of Bodhisattship, the state of the holy man who, having arrived at the stage next preceding that of Buddhahood, voluntarily refrains from taking the final step, in order that he may remain as a teacher and saviour among men. In the Chinese Buddhistic system there are several classifications of the arahats or lo-han: we find them in groups of twelve hundred, five hundred, eighteen and sixteen. The twelve hundred are only met with, so far as I am aware, in books; but many large temples in China contain images of the five hundred. In Canton, for example, there is what Europeans have rather foolishly named the Hall of the Five Hundred Genii. Some wag once fancied he saw a resemblance in one of the figures there to Marco Polo, and for some reason or other the idea struck the professional Canton guides as such a happy one that for many years past they have been in the habit of deluding thousands of European and American travellers with the belief that Messer Marco has been turned into a Chinese "god." The mistake assumes a somewhat grotesque character when we remember that, according to the Chinese belief, each of the five hundred lo-han is destined at some remote period to become a Buddha.62 In the majority of Chinese temples—as in those of Mount Omei—the number of lo-han represented by images is only eighteen; but there is a difference of opinion among the followers of different schools as to the identity of two of these. In Korea and Japan the temples generally contain sixteen lo-han, while Tibetan Lamaism sometimes recognises sixteen and sometimes eighteen.63 The two extra ones seem to have been added as an after-thought by Chinese Buddhists in comparatively modern times.

Above the Temple of the Red-eyed Duck comes the Hua Yen Ting.64 As already mentioned, the name Hua Yen is that of a famous sutra "discovered" by Nagarjuna. The temple contains the eighteen lo-han and figures of Sakyamuni Buddha and the two Bodhisattvas P'u Hsien and Manjusri.65 Behind these three central figures is a small Kuan Yin (AvalokiteÇvara). On leaving this temple the road strikes downwards for a short distance, and, soon after recommencing the ascent, we arrive next at the monastery known as the Lien Hua Shih66 ("Lotus Flower Stone"), where there is a holy relic consisting of the curiously shaped stone from which the place derives its name. I found a number of Tibetan pilgrims rubbing coins on it; the coins to be afterwards carefully preserved as charms. The stone is said by the monks (on no authority that I can discover) to have been brought up from deep waters by miraculous agency, and to have floated on the surface like the flower of the lotus. The lotus myth in Buddhist cosmology is based on a very picturesque allegory, with which most of my readers are probably acquainted. Its meaning has been accurately described in the following words by E. J. Eitel, who, though he possesses the usual bias against "heathendom," is a fairly sympathetic writer on Buddhist subjects. "The idea conveyed in this flowery language of Buddhism is of highly poetic and truly speculative import, amounting to this: that as a lotus flower, growing out of a hidden germ beneath the water, rises up slowly, mysteriously, until it suddenly appears above the surface and unfolds its buds, leaves, and pistils, in marvellous richness of colour and chastest beauty of form; thus also, in the system of worlds, each single universe rises into being, evolved out of a primitive germ, the first origin of which is veiled in mystery, and finally emerges out of the chaos, gradually unfolding itself, one kingdom of nature succeeding the other, all forming one compact whole, pervaded by one breath, but varied in beauty and form. Truly an idea, so far removed from nonsense, that it might be taken for an utterance of Darwin himself."67 Visitors to Buddhist temples cannot fail to observe how frequently the lotus allegory has been made to subserve religious and artistic purposes, and we have seen in the last chapter how it has been associated with the story of the beginning of P'u Hsien's worship on Mount Omei. The images of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are nearly always represented as sitting or standing in the centre of a huge open lotus, and even P'u Hsien's elephant stands on the same sacred plant.

As regards the stone in the Lien Hua monastery, I may add that it does not bear the smallest resemblance to a lotus or any other plant, and apparently it is not supposed to do so. Its original crude shape has evidently never been tampered with, though its surface has been worn smooth by constant rubbing.

Into the same temple another stone—not a sacred one—has found its way. It is a huge boulder, many tons in weight, that was brought down the mountain side some years ago by an avalanche, and crashed into the back of the main hall, where, for superstitious reasons—and perhaps because its removal would be a matter of immense difficulty—it has been allowed to remain. On a hanging scroll above the central images I noticed a Chinese transliteration68 of the well-known Tibetan formula, "Om Mane Padme Hom (or Hung),"69 generally translated—but this is a controversial matter—"Hail! The Jewel in the Lotus." The first word Om or Aum is the well-known sacred syllable of Brahmanism; practically it is simply a syllaba invocationis. The Jewel may mean the Buddha, or his Law (Dharma), or the Buddhist Church (Sangha), or all three combined, or more probably signifies AvalokiteÇvara (the Chinese Kuan Yin and Japanese Kwannon), who in Lamaism is supposed to be incarnated in every successive Grand Lama. But, as a matter of fact, very few of the Tibetans who mutter the sentence as they walk or turn it in their prayer-wheels, or carve it on stones and rocks by the wayside, can give any clear idea of what they mean by it. Like the Chinese Nam-Mo (or Nan-Wu) O-mi-to-Fo70 ("Praise be to Amitabha Buddha"), it is regarded as a kind of dhÂranÎ or mystic spell, the constant repetition of which will lead the believer to a life of bliss in SukhÂvatÎ, the Western Paradise. The only Chinese whom I met on the mountain besides the residents were Buddhist monks on pilgrimage, and the invocation to Amitabha was constantly on their lips; the other was repeated with equal persistence by the Tibetan pilgrims. During part of my climb the mountain was enveloped in a thick mist, which muffled the sound of footsteps; but there was seldom a moment that I did not hear one or other of these mystic sentences floating weirdly in the air above me or below.

A steep climb soon brought me to the Hsi Hsiang Ch'ih71 ("The Elephant's Bath"), where a temple has been built close to a pool of water where P'u Hsien's famous elephant is said to have bathed after his long journey. The temple contains images of Sakyamuni Buddha, P'u Hsien and Manjusri. Behind them, in the same hall, are three beautifully gilded figures, larger than life-size, representing Amitabha Buddha attended by Kuan Yin and Ta Shih Chih72 Bodhisattvas. These are the three beings who are supposed to preside over the Western Paradise; their images are therefore frequently found together, Amitabha always in the centre. In another hall is an image of Kuan Yin unattended.

The next temple is known as the Great Vehicle73 or Mahayana monastery. Here are images of Sakyamuni, Manjusri and P'u Hsien, who are also constantly associated in this manner; and behind them, facing in the opposite direction, is a large MaitrÊya, the Coming Buddha. After a fairly steep ascent thence and a short descent the path rises to the Pai YÜn Ku Ch'a74 ("The Old Monastery of the White Clouds")—which at the time of my visit I found to be a most appropriate name. Here there is a colossal sedent image of Chang Liang,75 a warlike hero who died in the second century of our era, after he had made an ineffectual attempt to achieve immortality by starving himself. He was subsequently canonised by the name of WÊn Ch'Êng.76 In another hall are Sakyamuni Buddha, Manjusri and P'u Hsien, supported by the eighteen lo-han. In ascending to the next temple, the Lei Tung P'ing,77 all pilgrims are expected to preserve absolute silence. The Lei Tung or Thunder Cavern is that which shelters the irascible Dragon of rain and thunder, to whom I referred in the last chapter. An inscription that hangs in the temple apparently refers to his controlling powers over lightning and rain-clouds.78 The slightest sound of the human voice, either in laughter or in speech, is liable to produce a terrific whirlwind and thunderstorm.

Next above this perilous locality comes the Chieh Yin Tien79—the Temple of Amitabha. The words chieh yin mean "to receive and lead," and are applied to Amitabha because he it is who is supposed to assist the faithful to reach the Western Heaven in which he reigns. The first hall contains a richly-gilded colossal statue of this Buddha, standing upright. Behind him is a figure of Wei To80 (VÊda), a Bodhisattva who is regarded as a vihÂrapÂla, or tutelary deity of the Buddhist monkhood. He is responsible for seeing that the recluses do not suffer through lack of nourishment, and that the monastery is properly supplied with necessaries. The second hall contains the eighteen lo-han in bronze. There are also the usual images of Sakyamuni and his attendant Bodhisattvas, and a colossal gilded P'u Hsien sitting on a lotus on the back of a white elephant. In the right-hand corner of this well-populated hall is another triad of divinities: Yo Shih Fo,81 a mythical Buddha who dwells in an eastern world, with Ti Tsang and Kuan Yin Bodhisattvas on his left and right. This is a favourite Buddha in China, and is supposed to hold in the East a position somewhat analogous to that of Amitabha in the West. In the popular imagination he has replaced the Motionless (wu tung) Buddha AkchÔbhya (A-ch'u-p'o) and is worshipped as the healer of sickness. Ti Tsang82 is one of the great Bodhisattvas, like P'u Hsien, Ta Shih Chih and Manjusri. The principal seat of his worship in China is in the province of Anhui. He is the benevolent being who seeks to save human beings from the punishments of hell. His prototype is said to have been a Siamese prince.

A steep ascent from this interesting monastery leads to the Ku T'ai Tzu P'ing,83 the "Ancient Temple of the Prince Royal." It is said that this building is named after a prince of the Ming dynasty, but the monks of to-day prefer to regard the T'ai Tzu as Sakyamuni Buddha himself, in the character of Prince Siddharta, son of the king of Kapilavastu. The figure representing him is attired in real robes, richly embroidered. On his right is P'u Hsien, seated on a white tuskless elephant. As already mentioned, P'u Hsien's elephants are generally characterised by their six tusks. On the prince's left is Kuan Yin; and behind these three central figures are images of Ti Tsang, Ta Shih Chih, WÊn Ch'Êng (Chang Liang) and Manjusri, all of whom have been described.

The next is the Yung-ch'ing Ssu84 or Eternal Happiness monastery. Here a many-armed Kuan Yin faces the entrance, and behind him (or her) is an Amitabha. The only new figure among the rest is that of Bodhidarma or Ta-mo, the St Thomas of the Catholic missionaries.85 He sits cross-legged with the first finger of the right hand raised. A small P'u Hsien is seated on an elephant with four tusks, the other two being lost. In this hall I observed some heaps of broken statues in bronze and iron, the remains of a ruined temple. From here a level path leads to the K'ai Shan Jou ShÊn Tsu Shih Tien,86 which, as the name partly indicates, contains a gruesome relic in the shape of the mummified body of a former abbot, attired in the robes he wore in life. The dried shrunken face has been lacquered with great care, and no one would guess that the figure was not made of clay or bronze. It is not the only mummy on the mountain. From here a short steep path leads to the Eagle-wood Pagoda,87 a monastery named after a miniature nine-storied bronze pagoda, the gift of a Ming empress. The next temple bears the imposing inscription of "The August Guard of the Gate of Heaven,"88 where there is a large Sakyamuni with the usual attendant Bodhisattvas. Next comes the Ch'i T'ien Ch'iao89—The Bridge of the Seventh Heaven—where there is a small temple in which the three Bodhisattvas—P'u Hsien (in the middle) and Manjusri and Kuan Yin (on the right and left)—sit in a row in front of a solitary image of Sakyamuni. The next temple is the P'u Hsien Pagoda,90 where the patron saint of Mount Omei, as is natural, occupies the place of honour in the middle of the hall facing the entrance. Behind him is Amitabha, and at the back of the hall, right and left, are Sakyamuni and Kuan Yin. On the left side of the hall is an image of one of the favourite personages in the Chinese theogony—Ts'ai ShÊn, the "God of Wealth."91 This god is so popular in China that Buddhism could not afford to neglect him, but as he is really a Taoist divinity he is only allowed to appear in a Buddhist temple as an act of grace. The same may be said of Kuan Ti,92 the God of War, Lung Wang93 the Dragon Raja or Naga-king, and the San Kuan.94

From this temple a short walk over a wooden-paved path, kept clear of snow by sedulous sweeping, leads to the Hsi Wa Tien95—the Pewter-Roofed Hall. At one time there were three "halls," with roofs of pewter, bronze and iron respectively. The metal roofs have vanished, though the names remain. "Pewter-roof" is specially appropriate to a Buddhist monastery, for pewter is the only metal that Buddhist monks may—in theory—possess. Each monk is supposed to carry a pewter-headed staff when he goes on pilgrimage or on his begging-rounds; and when he lodges at a monastery he is said to kua hsi, which literally means "to hang up the pewter." In south China there is a spring called the Pewter Spring, because it bubbled up at the bidding of a thirsty monk who struck the ground with his staff.

Another short climb brought me at last to the summit of Mount Omei, where, at a height of about 11,000 feet, I found welcome and rest in the spacious monastery that proudly describes itself as "The Golden Hall of the True Summit."96

Though I was not expected by the monks—for my two soldiers had failed to keep up with me in spite of my efforts to send them on as my ambassadors—I was at once made comfortable in a large, clean apartment on the first floor; and when my hosts heard that I was a humble student of their religion they soon provided me with as ample a vegetarian banquet as I could have desired, and treated me with great kindness.

An hour after my arrival I stood outside the temple gateway watching the sun set below a wild white ocean of clouds that laved the mountain side about 2,000 feet below me and turned the summit of Mount Omei into a snow-draped island. The air rapidly grew bitterly cold, and I was glad to seek warmth indoors by the side of my charcoal fire. My dilatory escort, carrying my modest baggage, came wearily in just as it began to grow dark.

The next morning held in store a wonderful surprise. The vast ocean of white clouds had entirely disappeared, and the wide country that lay far below me was bathed in the glory of brilliant sunlight. The sun rarely reveals himself in his full splendour in Ssuch'uan—so rarely that when he does so the dogs are said to bark at him97—and on Omei's summit sunshine is rare even for Ssuch'uan; but by good fortune it was on one of those exceptional occasions that I spent there the whole of one memorable day.

There are several monasteries on or near the summit. The one in which I lodged for two nights is crowned with a gilded ball that scintillates on its roof. Just behind the various buildings of this monastery is the tremendous precipice from the edge of which fortunate pilgrims witness the phenomenon known as the "Glory of Buddha."98 As mentioned in the last chapter, this is the appearance of a gleaming aureole floating horizontally on the mist a few thousand feet below the summit. This beautiful phenomenon, to which is probably due the special sanctity of Mount Omei, has not yet been quite satisfactorily explained. It has been likened to the famous Brocken Spectre, and to the Shadow of the Peak in Ceylon, but the brilliant and varied colours of "Buddha's Glory"—five colours, say the Chinese—give it a rainbow-like beauty which those appearances do not possess.99 The pious Buddhist pilgrim firmly believes that it is a miraculous manifestation of the power and glory of the Buddha—or of his spiritual Son P'u Hsien—and is always much disappointed if he has to leave the mountain without catching a glimpse of it.100 The necessary conditions of its appearance are said to be a clear sky above and a bank of clouds below, and as those conditions were not fulfilled for me I must sorrowfully confess that I cannot describe the spectacle from personal experience. But the circumstance that deprived me of that privilege enabled me to have a superb view of the surrounding country. Nearly 10,000 feet below me to the north and east lay the rich rolling plains of central Ssuch'uan; to the south the silver streak of the Ta Tu river and the wild mountains that enable the mysterious Lolo races to maintain their solitary independence; slightly to the south-west appeared the huge mass of the Wa mountain, with its extraordinary flat summit and its precipitous flanks; and, grandest sight of all, clear and brilliant on the western horizon stood out the mighty barrier of towering peaks appropriately known by the Chinese as the Ta HsÜeh Shan—Great Snow Mountains. Those are the peaks—some of them 20,000 feet high, and more—that keep watch and ward over the lofty Tibetan plateau on the one side and the rolling plains of China on the other: the eastern ramparts of the vast Himalayan range, whose icy fingers seem ever to grope outward into the silent abyss of space as if seeking to grasp the fringe of a mightier world than ours. Even at a distance of nearly 100 miles as the crow flies the pinnacles seemed too lofty to be real; but it was pleasant to know that a few weeks hence I should be in the midst of the great mountains, perhaps learning something of their hidden mysteries.

The narrow gallery behind the monastery from which one watches for a manifestation of Buddha's Glory is carefully railed, for a fall from this spot would mean a sheer drop of more than a mile down the face of a precipice which, as Baber has remarked, is perhaps the highest in the world. Many are the stories told by the monks of men and women who in moments of wild religious exaltation have hurled themselves down to win death and paradise in one glorious instant by throwing themselves into the bosom of their Lord Buddha: true stories, which have well earned for this terrible precipice the name of "The Rejection of the Body."101 Less sinister names which have been given it are the Diamond Terrace and the Silvery Boundary,—the latter102 perhaps because Mount Omei is regarded as the eastern buttress of the Great Snow Mountains; or perhaps the words refer to the view of those mountains on the western horizon. Near the edge of the cliff are the remains of a once famous bronze temple, which was several times struck by lightning and has never been restored since the date of the last catastrophe. Some of the castings are exceedingly fine and well worthy of preservation. A Chinese proverb says that Heaven grants compensation for what the lightning has destroyed,103 but in this instance it seems to have failed of fulfilment.

The temple at which I stayed harbours about twenty monks and acolytes, and visitors both lay and monastic are constantly coming and going. I observed there the performance of an interesting custom, whereby the monks who come on pilgrimage from distant monasteries produce papers of identification and have them stamped with the seal of each of the monasteries they visit. As their journeys are made that they may "gain merit," not only for themselves but also for the religious communities which they represent, it is important that on their return they should be able to produce duly authenticated certificates that they have actually attained the objects of their pilgrimage. In many cases the establishment visited also grants Buddhist tracts or plans of its own buildings. One such crude plan—representing the mountain of Omei with its principal religious houses—is reproduced here on a reduced scale. The monastic seal (in red in the original) appears at the top. Some yellow-robed monks from a large monastery near Pao-ning-fu in north-eastern Ssuch'uan, and a small group of lamas from Litang, on the Tibetan border, were having their papers sealed at the time of my arrival at the Golden Summit.

During my day's rest I attended two religious services, besides a "choir-practice" of young boys who had not yet become fully-fledged monks. The services were well intoned, and, considering one's strange surroundings, had a singular impressiveness. The ordinary daily prayers are very simple, consisting in little more than repeated invocations of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas: they are "praises" rather than prayers. The ordinary Morning Service or Matins (Tsao K'o)104 begins with a procession of monks into the principal hall or chapel—Ta hsiung pao tien,105 "The Precious Hall of the Great Lord (or Hero")—where, after circling round the central figure of Sakyamuni, keeping one bared shoulder towards the image, they take their seats on low benches on left and right. In front of Sakyamuni are lighted candles and burning sticks of incense. The service then begins by the general invocation, Nam Mo PÊn Shih Shih Chia Mou-ni-Fo:106 "Praise to our Lord Sakyamuni Buddha." This is followed by Nam Mo Tan Lai Mi Lei Tsun Fo:107 "Praise to the Honoured One MaitrÊya, the Buddha that is to be." The Buddhas of the past and future having thus been honoured, a bell is sounded to announce a change in the manner of address, when somewhat similar phrases of adoration, interspersed with short hymns of praise, are sung in honour of some of the great Bodhisattvas, those selected at the service attended by me being the following, in the order named: WÊn Shu Shih Li108 (Manjusri, the Lord of Ta chih,109 Great Wisdom); P'u Hsien110 (Samanta Bhadra, the patron saint of Mount Omei); Hu Fa Chu T'ien P'u Sa111 (all the Bodhisattvas, Defenders of the Faith); San Chou Kan Ying Hu Fa Wei To Tsun T'ien P'u Sa112 (the Honoured Bodhisattva Wei-To,113 the Distributer of Rewards and Punishments throughout the three Continents, Defender of the Faith); Jih Kwang Pien Chao and YÜeh Kuang Pien Chao114 (the Bodhisattvas of the Far-Shining Light of the Sun and of the Moon—who are regarded as attendant on Yo-Shih Fo, the Healing Buddha of the East); TsÊng Fu Ts'ai ShÊn115 (the Bodhisattva who increases happiness and wealth—the Chinese "God of Wealth"116); and finally Shih Fang P'u Sa117 (the Bodhisattvas of the Ten Quarters of the Universe).

The most interesting part of the service consists in the short "lections" of extracts from the scriptures, which take the place of the lessons and sermons of Christian churches. The lections are followed by short hymns, some of which have been specially composed for liturgical purposes and are not to be found in the sacred books. Several processions and prostrations take place during the service. The intoning when heard from some distance is often not unlike a Gregorian chant, but the words are uttered rather too quickly, especially in the constantly-repeated invocations.

The Evening Service or Vespers (Wan K'o118) begins with a solemn invocation to the mythical Buddha of the Western Paradise, the sublime Amitabha.119 Then follow the praises of Yo Shih Fo, the Healing Buddha, who "averts calamity and lengthens human life."120 Two Buddhas, as in the Morning Service, having thus been invoked, the next to be lauded are a new selection of the great Bodhisattvas, in the following order: Kuan Yin or Kuan Shih Yin, the "Goddess of Mercy," and Ta Shih Chih, the Bodhisattva of Great Strength,121 the two who under Buddha Amitabha preside over the Western Paradise; Ti Tsang Wang,122 who saves men from the terrors of hell; Wei To, Defender of the Faith—the only divinity whose name is included in both Morning and Evening Services; Chia Lan ShÊng Chung P'u Sa123 ("the holy Bodhisattvas, Protectors of the Monasteries," of whom Kuan-Ti, the Taoist "God of War," is one); Li Tai Tsu Shih P'u Sa124 (the Patriarchs, the Bodhisattvas of Successive Ages); Ch'ing Ching Ta Hai Chu P'u Sa125 (all the Pure Bodhisattvas of the Great Ocean: i.e. of life and death or continual metempsychosis).

"Buddha's Glory" is not the only marvel that the fortunate pilgrim may hope to behold when he reaches the Golden Summit. Night, on Mount Omei, has its treasures hardly less glorious than those of day. These take the form of myriads of little lights, moving and glimmering like winged stars in the midst of an inverted firmament. They are known as the ShÊng TÊng (Holy Lamps),126 and have been described to me—for alas! I saw them not—as brilliant specks of light darting hither and thither on the surface of the ocean of mist on which in daytime floats the coloured aureole. A fanciful monk suggested to me that they are the scintillating fragments of the "Glory of Buddha," which is shattered at the approach of night and reformed at the rising of the sun. Foreigners have supposed that they are caused by some electrical disturbance; but the monk's explanation, if the less scientific of the two, is certainly the more picturesque.

The monastery in which I was entertained is probably the largest on the summit, but by far the most famous is its neighbour, the Hsien Tsu Tien,127 which is believed to occupy the site of the original temple to P'u Hsien that according to the legend was built by P'u Kung in the Han dynasty after he had tracked the lily-footed deer to the edge of the great precipice and had beheld the wonderful sight thenceforth known as the "Glory of Buddha." The temple contains a large sedent image of the patron saint, and behind it is a terrace from which may be seen the manifold wonders of the abyss. Not far from this building is the Monastery of the Sleeping Clouds,128 and further off are the temples of the Thousand Buddhas (Ch'ien Fo) and the White Dragon.129

I regretfully left the summit of Mount Omei on my downward journey early on the morning of 10th March, and, after many a slip and sprawl on the snow, reached the Wan-nien monastery in the afternoon. Here I spent a night for the second time, and continued the descent on the following morning. Just below the temple of the Pai Lung (White Dragon) which I had already visited, the road bifurcates; and as both branches lead eventually to Omei-hsien, I naturally chose the one that was new to me. By this time I had left far behind me the snow and icicles of the higher levels, and had entered a region of warm air and bright green vegetation. The change was startling, as though by some magic power the seasons had been interchanged.

Shelley's dream would have been realised on the slopes of Mount Omei.

Between the bifurcation of the roads and the foot of the mountain there are a number of monasteries, few of which possess any feature calling for special remark, except the romantic beauty of their situations. The most conspicuous are the Kuang Fu Ssu,130 or "Monastery of Abounding Happiness"; the Lung ShÊng Kang,131 or "Mountain Ascending Dragon," from which there is a splendid view of the Golden Summit; the Kuan Yin Ssu,132 or "Monastery of AvalokiteÇvara"; the Chung FÊng Ssu,133 "Half-Way Monastery"; and the Ta O Ssu,134 the "Monastery of Great O" (i.e. Omei Shan, Mount Omei), which is a spacious building, often visited by holiday-making Protestant missionaries from Chia-ting. After passing this building the downward path leads across a small bridge, called the "Bridge of the Upright Heart" (ChÊng Hsin Ch'iao135), to the monastery named Hui TÊng Ssu136 ("The Spiritual Lamp"), from the neighbourhood of which the view of the mountain summit is of exceptional beauty. A charming road leads thence past several other monasteries, down to the level plain, whence the walk to Omei-hsien is easy. Before I reached the city the great mountain had vanished from my sight and I never saw it again: from peak to base it had disappeared into impenetrable mist. There was only the soft sound of a distant monastery bell to assure me that somewhere in the clouds the sacred mountain might still be looked for not in vain.

I have dwelt long upon the Buddhistic associations of Omei; and perhaps the reader is wearied by an account of temples and of forms of belief that he considers grotesque and uncouth. I should be sorry if I were to leave him with the impression that Omei possesses no interest beyond the glimmer that is shed upon it by the Light of Asia. If every monastery were to crumble into dust, if the very memory of Buddhism were to be swept utterly away from the minds of men, Omei would still remain what it was before the first Buddhist recluse had built there his lonely hermitage—it would still be a home of portent and mystery, the abode of nameless spirits of mountain and flood, the source of inspiration to poet and artist, the resort of pilgrims from many lands, each of whom—whatever his faith—would find, as he gazed from the edge of the Golden Summit into the white abyss below, a manifestation of the Glory of his own God.