When one of the leading publicists in America, Dr. Albert Shaw of the Review of Reviews, after reading the manuscript of Part I of this volume, characterized the author as “The Robinson Crusoe of the Twentieth Century,” he touched the feature of the narrative which is at once most attractive and most dangerous; for the succession of trying and thrilling experiences recorded seems in places too highly colored to be real or, sometimes, even possible in this day and generation. I desire, therefore, to assure the reader at the outset that Dr. Ossendowski is a man of long and diverse experience as a scientist and writer with a training for careful observation which should put the stamp of accuracy and reliability on his chronicle. Only the extraordinary events of these extraordinary times could have thrown one with so many talents back into the surroundings of the “Cave Man” and thus given to us this unusual account of personal adventure, of great human mysteries and of the political and religious motives which are energizing the “Heart of Asia.”
My share in the work has been to induce Dr. Ossendowski to write his story at this time and to assist him in rendering his experiences into English.
VIII. THREE DAYS ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE
XIII. MYSTERIES, MIRACLES AND A NEW FIGHT
XXXIII. “DEATH FROM THE WHITE MAN WILL STAND BEHIND YOU”
XXXV. IN THE CITY OF LIVING GODS, 30,000 BUDDHAS AND 60,000 MONKS
XXXIX. “THE MAN WITH A HEAD LIKE A SADDLE”
XL. IN THE BLISSFUL GARDEN OF A THOUSAND JOYS
XLIV. A PAGE IN THE HISTORY OF THE PRESENT LIVING BUDDHA
XLV. THE VISION OF THE LIVING BUDDHA OF MAY 17, 1921
PART V. MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES--THE KING OF THE WORLD
XLVII. THE KING OF THE WORLD BEFORE THE FACE OF GOD
XLIX. THE PROPHECY OF THE KING OF THE WORLD IN 1890
There are times, men and events about which History alone can record the final judgments; contemporaries and individual observers must only write what they have seen and heard. The very truth demands it.
In the beginning of the year 1920 I happened to be living in the Siberian town of Krasnoyarsk, situated on the shores of the River Yenisei, that noble stream which is cradled in the sun-bathed mountains of Mongolia to pour its warming life into the Arctic Ocean and to whose mouth Nansen has twice come to open the shortest road for commerce from Europe to the heart of Asia. There in the depths of the still Siberian winter I was suddenly caught up in the whirling storm of mad revolution raging all over Russia, sowing in this peaceful and rich land vengeance, hate, bloodshed and crimes that go unpunished by the law. No one could tell the hour of his fate. The people lived from day to day and left their homes not knowing whether they should return to them or whether they should be dragged from the streets and thrown into the dungeons of that travesty of courts, the Revolutionary Committee, more terrible and more bloody than those of the Mediaeval Inquisition. We who were strangers in this distraught land were not saved from its persecutions and I personally lived through them.