Appendix C: A Living Buddha at Home
Condensed from Mr. Ridley’s account of his visit to Ku-rung Fuh-ie (October 1921) in his palatial residence not far from the city of Kweiteh in Kansu, on the Yellow River.
No part of Kansu that I have seen excels this district for beauty. The whole countryside is covered with trees, whose autumn tints of every shade of yellow enhanced the beauty of the scenery. Here and there in open spaces little Tibetan villages nestled snugly. Our path led down among precipitous red sandstone rocks into a glen, across a stream, up through a wood, and down into another glen. The latter might well have been described as a lovers’ glen — and who knows but many a Tibetan lad and lass have plighted their troth among the trees and boulders bordering the little stream! It was a lovely morning as we followed the winding brook, and its merry laughter falling sweetly on the ear was in harmony with the quaint song of Tibetan lassies herding their flocks on the mountain-side. In China, yet not of China — whose wee lassies sit nursing their cruelly bound feet, all play with boys of their own age being strictly forbidden — these Tibetan girls, full of frolic and fun, strong and bonnie, lead a happy, free life in keeping with the semi¬ wild country where they live....
At nine o’clock we reached Namtso, the private lamasery of Ku-rung Fuh-ie (who rules over thousands
209 p of monks in no fewer than thirty-six monasteries). Here a warm welcome awaited us. They came running to meet us, took our animals, fastened them up, and led us to the best room, where we were soon regaled with steamed bread and tea. Being special guests, besides the milk and salt in the tea, a large slice of butter was added. Not quite fresh? No, not quite — with a distinct flavour of its own! But for special guests it ought to be a little high, as with our Stilton cheese and grouse at home — though one’s inner man may wish that it were not so. Conversation flows gaily, and soon the guest satisfies the hospitable heart of his host by disposing of the contents of the basin.
In an opening in the glen stands this little lamasery, surrounded by a few small houses; the background a forest; facing high sandstone rocks, with the stream babbling along the foot of the rocks. A quieter spot for meditation could hardly be found. Built about eight years ago, it is the residence of a dozen priests. The place is in charge of a young lama and his wife, dressed in her handsome gown adorned with many silver ornaments.
The rocks facing the lamasery are remarkable. They are disconnected, and rise to a height of two or three hundred feet, like giant pillars. The whole country for a distance of ten miles to the east is more or less dotted with them... and so firmly do they stand that none were overthrown in the terrible earthquake of last year. In the forest musk-deer find shelter and pheasants abound, since it is forbidden to shoot them in lama-land.
Three miles down the glen from the lamasery we again enter the valley of the Yellow River. Here we come into touch with the Salar Moslems, pass the home of a Tibetan chieftain, and finally reach the private residence of Ku-rung Fuh-ie, the first “Living Buddha” of the Red Sect to visit Peking for hundreds of years — since the beginning of the Ming dynasty. At Peking he was received by the President and entertained at a feast in his palace. He it was also who was sent as a Special Delegate from the Chinese Government to Lhassa last year.
Four years had passed since I visited his home, and the old premises had been replaced by an entirely new mansion built within a high enclosure 360 feet long by 180. A handsome gateway was being erected when we arrived. At the back of the enclosure is a large garden abounding with a great variety of flowers, many grown from foreign seed. At the very end is a conservatory. In the first courtyard, next to the garden, are the rooms of the family, as he is a married man with eight children. A telephone connects with the office of his chief steward. In the same courtyard he has a large dispensary — chiefly native medicines — for the Fuh-ie is a (Tibetan) Doctor of Medicine. On the next courtyard toward the front is the reception-room for guests, and above it the prayer hall. I- had never before seen such a luxurious guest-room in China. On the floor lay a handsome Turkestan carpet. All the chairs were covered with richly embroidered red satin covers. The table was spread with a profusion of sweetmeats, and the room was decorated with elegant foreign lamps. All was so grand that it looked more for show than use.
Above, in the prayer hall, were windows of glass and fantastic hanging lamps. Covering the north and east walls were over a hundred little cases with glass fronts, each containing an idol purchased when the Fuh-ie was in Peking and probably of Japanese make, for they were all of white metal instead of brass. On the west side is a little room containing a huge idol, the “Buddha’s” chief god. It has several heads and arms, and another smaller god attached to it, making a very obscene object. Yet this idol is considered a test of virtue — for a man is supposed to have his passions and emotion so subdued that as he stands in its presence he is unmoved. No wonder this god is hidden away in some secret corner of many of the lamaseries from the view of the priests, only those who have reached the stage of perfection being permitted to see it! Rooms for special guests surround the next yard; and lastly the courtyard nearest the entrance contains stables and rooms for pilgrims and guests of less importance.
For months the “Living Buddha” had been besieging me with invitations, so when we arrived we found a very warm welcome. Friends of fifteen years standing, he was glad to see me once more. First I was installed in the best guest-room, but he soon transferred me to his own apartment, where his children waited on me hand and foot and were my constant companions when not occupied with the “Buddha.” Happy, merry children they are, and we had many a stroll through the garden and orchard together. All seem to stand somewhat in awe of their father.
The second boy is also a “Living Buddha,” and though he has not yet been sent to his lamasery at Pao-an, he is going soon. The eldest son is at our school in Sining, but was at home for the holidays. The eldest daughter, a girl of sixteen, married to a chieftain, was also at home. The” Buddha” and I spent many hours discussing matters Tibetan, Chinese, and foreign. We were three days together.
The morning before we left there was quite a stir in the household: the eldest boy was returning to school. He had had a curtain lecture from his father, and was decidedly gloomy. His mother was busy packing his bag full of good things to eat, and dropping tears as she did so. The children were running here and there, helping mother. Soon it was time to start. Two animals were loaded with goods and bedding, and a third was for the boy to ride. Father and mother accompanied him to the front entrance and said good-bye — but there was no mother’s kiss. The sisters and brothers escorted him to the riverside, where a private boat, belonging to the family, was waiting. The boat is simply the trunk of a tree, hollowed out, with a large piece of timber fastened on each side to balance it. The luggage transferred to the boat and the lad following, the man rowed away amid much waving of handkerchiefs from the shore. As the boy crossed, animals could be seen coming down to the river on the other side, from the tents where the “Buddha’s” herdsmen camp, watching his flocks of sheep, goats, yaks, and horses. The boy steps on shore, the animals are loaded, and with a final waving of hand¬ kerchiefs he is gone. The three younger boys mount one animal, the bright, bonnie sister of thirteen leading it, running betimes at the merry demand of the lads: and so ends the episode of a Tibetan boy off to school.
The following day we also said good-bye, the “Buddha” kindly making me a present of Tibetan cloth and a scarf of blessing, and the mother asking me to look well after her dear lad. The “Buddha” sent a man with me to see us safely over the ferry, which is in charge of the Salar Moslems.