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Foreword
After the close of the Turko-Russian War (1877-1878) I undertook a series of
extended journeys through the Orient. Having
visited all points of interest in the Balkan Peninsula, I crossed the Caucasian
Mountains into Central Asia and Persia, and finally, in 1887, made an excursion
into India, the most admired country of the dreams of my childhood.
The first object of this journey was to study the customs and habits of
the inhabitants of India amid their own surroundings, as well as the grand,
mysterious archaeology and the colossal, majestic nature of the country.
Wandering without any settled course from one locality to another, I at
last came to mountainous Afghanistan, whence I reached India through the
picturesque passes of Bolan and Guernai. I
then followed the Indus to Rawal-Pindi, traveled through the Punjab – the
country of five rivers – visited the Golden Temple of Amritsir, the tomb of
Randjid Singh, King of the Punjab, near Lahore, and proceeded toward Kashmir,
the “vale of eternal happiness.” There
I began my peregrinations as fancy or curiosity guided or dictated until I
reached Ladak, where I intended to make a somewhat lengthy stay before returning
to Russia through Eastern Turkestan and Karakorum.
In the course of one of my visits to a Buddhist convent, I learned from
the chief Lama that there existed very ancient memoirs, treating the life of
Christ and of the nations of the Occident, in the archives of Lassa, and that a
few of the larger monasteries possessed copies and translations of these
precious chronicles.
There being little probability of my early return to this country, I
resolved to delay my departure for Europe, and verify these assertions by seeing
some of these copies, even though I were obliged to invade every convent as far
as Lassa – a journey far less perilous and difficult to accomplish than we are
usually led to believe. Besides
this, I was so well accustomed to the dangers encountered by the traveler in
those regions that they no longer possessed any terrors for me.
During my sojourn in Leh, the capital of Ladak, I visited Himis, a large
convent in the outskirts of the city, where I was informed by the Lama that the
monastic libraries contained a few copies of the manuscript in question.
That I might not arouse the suspicions of the authorities
An unfortunate accident, whereby my leg was fractured, furnished me with
a totally unexpected pretext to enter the monastery, where I received excellent
care and nursing; and took advantage of my short stay among these monks to
obtain the privilege of seeing the manuscripts relating to Christ.
With the aid of my interpreter, who translated from the Thibetan tongue,
I carefully transcribed the verses as they were read by the Lama.
Entertaining no doubt of the authenticity of this narrative, written with
the utmost precision by Brahmin historians and Buddhists of India and Nepal, my
intention was to publish the translation on my return to Europe.
With this object in view, I addressed myself to several well-known
ecclesiastics, requesting them to revise my notes and tell me what they thought
of the matter.
Monsignor Platon, the celebrated archbishop of Kiev, believed my
discovery to be of great importance, but he earnestly tried to dissuade me from
giving the memoirs publicity, declaring it would be against my own interests to
do so.
Why? This the venerable
prelate refused to explain. Our
conversation, however, having taken place in Russia where censorship would have
placed its veto on a work of this kind, I determined to wait.
A year later I chanced to be in Rome.
Here I submitted the manuscript to a cardinal standing high in the
estimation of the Holy Father.
“Why should you print this?” he said, didactically; “nobody will
attach much importance to it, and you will create numberless enemies thereby.
You are still young, however. If
you need money, I can obtain some compensation for these notes, enough to
remunerate you for your loss of time and expenditure.”
Naturally enough, I refused the offer.
In Paris I laid my project before Cardinal Rotelli, whom I had met in
Constantinople. He also opposed the
publication of my work, under the pretext it would be premature.
“The church,” he added, “suffers too deeply from this new current
of atheistic ideas, and you would only furnish new food to the calumniators and
detractors of the evangelical doctrine. I
tell you this in the interest of all the Christian churches.”
I then called on M. Jules Simon, who found my communication most
interesting and advised me to consult M. Renan in regard to the best means of
publishing these memoirs.
The very next day I found myself seated in the study of the great
philosopher. At the end of the
interview M. Renan proposed that I should entrust him with the memoirs in
question, that he might make a report on them to the Academy.
This proposition, as the reader will understand, was most seductive and
flattering. Yet I took away the
work with me, saying I wished to revise it once more – the fact being that I
feared if I accepted this association I would only receive the bare honor of
discovering the chronicles, while the illustrious author of “The Life of
Jesus” would reap the glory of the publication and of the commentaries.
Believing myself sufficiently prepared to publish the narrative by adding
my own notes, I finally declined the courteous offer made to me.
That I might not, however, wound the feelings of the great master, whom I
deeply respected, I resolved to await his death, which could not be far off,
judging from his feebleness. Soon
after the death of M. Renan, I wrote to M. Jules Simon, and again sought his
advice. His reply was that I should
judge for myself of the expediency of giving publicity to the memoirs.
I therefore prepared my notes and now publish them, reserving the right to attest the authenticity of these chronicles. In my commentaries I carefully develop the arguments which prove the good faith and sincerity of the Buddhist compilers. It only remains for me to add that before criticizing my work scientific societies can, without much expense, organize an expedition whose mission it will be to study these manuscripts in the locality in which they are to be found, and thus verify their historical value.
Nicolai Notovitch
Note: In the course of my travels I took many curious photographs, but when I came to examine the negatives on my return from India I was dismayed to find that they were absolutely destroyed.
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Map of Ladak
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| The Monastery at Himis |
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