Читать книгу From Peking to Mandalay - Sir Reginald Fleming Johnston - Страница 11

BUDDHIST VESPERS

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.

DESCENT OF MOUNT OMEI

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.

"I dreamed that as I wandered by the way

Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring,

And gentle odours led my steps astray,

Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring."

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 Ssŭ,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 Ssŭ,132 or "Monastery of Avalokiteçvara"; the Chung Fêng Ssŭ,133 "Half-Way Monastery"; and the Ta O Ssŭ,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 Ssŭ136 ("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.

DEPARTURE FOR YA-CHOU-FU

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.