[Illustration: map]
THREE YEARS IN TIBET.
[Illustration: AUTHOR IN 1909.]
Three Years
IN
Tibet
with the original Japanese illustrations
BY
THE SHRAMANA EKAI KAWAGUCHI
_Late Rector of Gohyakurakan Monastery, Japan_.
PUBLISHED BY
THE THEOSOPHIST OFFICE, ADYAR, MADRAS.
THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING SOCIETY, BENARES AND LONDON.
1909.
(_Registered Copyright._)
PRINTED BY ANNIE BESANT AT THE VASANTA PRESS, ADYAR, MADRAS, S. INDIA.
PREFACE.
I was lately reading the Holy Text of the _Saḍḍharma-Puṇdarīka_ (the
Aphorisms of the White Lotus of the Wonderful or True Law) in a Samskṛṭ
manuscript under a Boḍhi-tree near Mṛga-Ḍāva (Sāranāṭh), Benares. Here
our Blessed Lord Buḍḍha Shākya-Muni taught His Holy Ḍharma just after
the accomplishment of His Buḍḍhahood at Buḍḍhagayā. Whilst doing so,
I was reminded of the time, eighteen years ago, when I had read the
same text in Chinese at a great Monastery named Ohbakusang at Kyoto in
Japan, a reading which determined me to undertake a visit to Tibet.
It was in March, 1891, that I gave up the Rectorship of the Monastery
of Gohyakurakan in Tokyo, and left for Kyoto, where I remained living
as a hermit for about three years, totally absorbed in the study of a
large collection of Buḍḍhist books in the Chinese language. My object
in doing so was to fulfil a long-felt desire to translate the texts
into Japanese in an easy style from the difficult and unintelligible
Chinese.
But I afterwards found that it was not a wise thing to rely upon the
Chinese texts alone, without comparing them with Tibetan translations
as well as with the original Samskṛṭ texts which are contained in
Mahāyāna Buḍḍhism. The Buḍḍhist Samskṛṭ texts were to be found in Tibet
and Nepāl. Of course, many of them had been discovered by European
Orientalists in Nepāl and a few in other parts of India and Japan. But
those texts had not yet been found which included the most important
manuscripts of which Buḍḍhist scholars were in great want. Then again,
the Tibetan texts were famous for being more accurate translations
than the Chinese. Now I do not say that the Tibetan translations are
superior to the Chinese. As literal translations, I think that they
are superior; but, for their general meaning, the Chinese are far
better than the Tibetan. Anyhow, it was my idea that I should study
the Tibetan language and Tibetan Buḍḍhism, and should try to discover
Samskṛṭ manuscripts in Tibet, if any were there available.
With these objects in view, I made up my mind to go to Tibet, though
the country was closed not only by the Local Government but also by
the surrounding lofty mountains. After making my preparations for some
time, I left Japan for Tibet in June, 1897, and returned to my country
in May, 1903. Then in October, 1904, I again left Japan for India and
Nepāl, with the object of studying Samskṛṭ, hoping, if possible, again
to penetrate into Tibet, in search of more manuscripts.
On my return to Japan, my countrymen received me with great enthusiasm,
as the first explorer of Tibet from Japan. The _Jiji_, a daily
newspaper in Tokyo, the most well-known, influential and widely
read paper in Japan, and also a famous paper in Ōsaka, called the
_Maimichi_, published my articles every day during 156 issues. After
this, I collected all these articles and gave them for publication in
two volumes to Hakubunkwan, a famous publisher in Tokyo. Afterwards
some well-known gentlemen in Japan, Mr. Sutejiro Fukuzawa, Mr. Sensuke
Hayakawa and Mr. Eiji Asabuki, proposed to me to get them translated
into English. They also helped me substantially in this translation,
and I take this opportunity of expressing my grateful thanks to them
for the favor thus conferred upon me.
When my translation was finished, the British expedition to Tibet
had been successful, and reports regarding it were soon afterwards
published. I therefore stopped the publication of my English
translation, for I thought that my book would not be of any use to the
English-reading public.
Recently, the President of the Theosophical Society, my esteemed friend
Mrs. Annie Besant, asked me to show her the translation. On reading it
she advised me to publish it quickly. I then told her that it would be
useless for me to publish such a book, as there were already Government
reports of the Tibetan expedition, and as Dr. Sven Hedin of Sweden
would soon publish an excellent book of his travels in Tibet. But
she was of opinion that such books would treat of the country from a
western point of view, whilst my book would prove interesting to the
reader from the point of view of an Asiatic, intimately acquainted with
the manners, the customs, and the inner life of the people. She also
pointed out to me that the book would prove attractive to the general
reader for its stirring incidents and adventures, and the dangers I had
had to pass through during my travels.
Thus then I lay this book before the English-knowing public. I take
this opportunity of expressing my grateful thanks to Mrs. Besant for
her continued kindness to me in looking over the translation, and for
rendering me help in the publication. Were it not for her, this book
would not have seen the light of day.
Here also I must not fail to express my sincere thanks to my intimate
friend Professor Jamshedji N. Unwalla, M.A., of the Central Hinḍū
College, Benares; for he composed all the verses of the book from my
free English prose translation, and looked over all the proof-sheets
carefully with me with heartiest kindness.
I must equally thank those people who helped me in my travels in a
substantial manner, as well as those who rendered me useful assistance
in my studies; nay, even those who threw obstacles in my way, for
they, after all, unconsciously rewarded me with the gift of the
power to accomplish the objects I had in view, by surmounting all the
difficulties I had to go through during my travels.
With reference to this publication, whilst reading the Aphorisms of
the White Lotus of the Wonderful Law this day, I cannot but feel
extremely sorry in my heart when I am reminded of those people who
suffered a great deal for my sake, some being even imprisoned for their
connexion with me when I was in Tibet. But on the other hand, it is
really gratifying to me, as well as to them, to know that, after all,
their sufferings for my sake will be amply compensated by the good
karma they have certainly acquired for themselves through their acts
of charity and benevolence, that have enabled me to read and carefully
study with greater knowledge, accuracy and enthusiasm, the most sacred
texts of our Holy Religion, than was possible for me before my travels
in Tibet. I assert this with implicit faith in the fact that good
deeds, according to the Sacred Canon, have indubitably the power to
purify Humanity, sunk in the illusions of this world, often compared
in our Holy Scriptures to a muddy and dirty pond; at the same time I
believe that that power to purify rests with the Glorious Lotus of the
Awe-inspiring Law, suffusing all with its brilliant effulgence; and
with sweet odor, itself, amidst its muddy surroundings, remaining for
ever stainless and unsullied.
EKAI KAWAGUCHI.
CENTRAL HINDU COLLEGE, }
STAFF QUARTERS, }
_Benares City, 1909_. }
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Novel farewell Presents. 1
II. A Year in Darjeeling. 11
III. A foretaste of Tibetan barbarism. 15
IV. Laying a false scent. 21
V. Journey to Nepāl. 25
VI. I befriend Beggars. 35
VII. The Sublime Himālaya. 40
VIII. Dangers ahead. 44
IX. Beautiful Tsarang and Dirty Tsarangese. 51
X. Fame and Temptation. 60
XI. Tibet at Last. 69
XII. The World of Snow. 77
XIII. A kind old Dame. 81
XIV. A holy Cave-Dweller. 86
XV. In helpless Plight. 90
XVI. A Foretaste of distressing Experiences. 96
XVII. A Beautiful Rescuer. 99
XVIII. The Lighter Side of the Experiences. 104
XIX. The largest River of Tibet. 108
XX. Dangers begin in Earnest. 112
XXI. Overtaken by a Sand-Storm. 116
XXII. 22,650 Feet above Sea-level. 123
XXIII. I survive a Sleep in the Snow. 127
XXIV. ‘Bon’ and ‘Kyang’. 131
XXV. The Power of Buḍḍhism. 135
XXVI. Sacred Mānasarovara and its Legends. 139
XXVII. Bartering in Tibet. 144
XXVIII. A Himālayan Romance. 150
XXIX. On the Road to Nature’s Grand Maṇdala. 162
XXX. Wonders of Nature’s Maṇdala. 167
XXXI. An Ominous Outlook. 178
XXXII. A Cheerless Prospect. 187
XXXIII. At Death’s Door. 191
XXXIV. The Saint of the White Cave revisited. 204
XXXV. Some easier Days. 211
XXXVI. War Against Suspicion. 218
XXXVII. Across the Steppes. 227
XXXVIII. Holy Texts in a Slaughter-house. 233
XXXIX. The Third Metropolis of Tibet. 236
XL. The Sakya Monastery. 241
XLI. Shigatze. 249
XLII. A Supposed Miracle. 257
XLIII. Manners and Customs. 264
XLIV. On to Lhasa. 280
XLV. Arrival in Lhasa. 285
XLVI. The Warrior-Priests of Sera. 291
XLVII. Tibet and North China. 297
XLVIII. Admission into Sera College. 304
XLIX. Meeting with the Incarnate Boḍhisaṭṭva. 311
L. Life in the Sera Monastery. 323
LI. My Tibetan Friends and Benefactors. 329
LII. Japan in Lhasa. 335
LIII. Scholastic Aspirants. 345
LIV. Tibetan Weddings and Wedded Life. 351
LV. Wedding Ceremonies. 362
LVI. Tibetan Punishments. 374
LVII. A grim Funeral and grimmer Medicine. 388
LVIII. Foreign Explorers and the Policy of Seclusion. 397
LIX. A Metropolis of Filth. 407
LX. Lamaism. 410
LXI. The Tibetan Hierarchy. 417
LXII. The Government. 428
LXIII. Education and Castes. 435
LXIV. Tibetan Trade and Industry. 447
LXV. Currency and Printing-blocks. 461
LXVI. The Festival of Lights. 467
LXVII. Tibetan Women. 472
LXVIII. Tibetan Boys and Girls. 479
LXIX. The Care of the Sick. 484
LXX. Outdoor Amusements. 489
LXXI. Russia’s Tibetan Policy. 493
LXXII. Tibet and British India. 509
LXXIII. China, Nepāl and Tibet. 519
LXXIV. The Future of Tibetan Diplomacy. 526
LXXV. The “Monlam” Festival. 531
LXXVI. The Tibetan Soldiery. 549
LXXVII. Tibetan Finance. 554
LXXVIII. Future of the Tibetan Religions. 561
LXXIX. The Beginning of the Disclosure of the Secret. 566
LXXX. The Secret Leaks Out. 574
LXXXI. My Benefactor’s Noble Offer. 584
LXXXII. Preparations for Departure. 590
LXXXIII. A Tearful Departure from Lhasa. 599
LXXXIV. Five Gates to Pass. 618
LXXXV. The First Challenge Gate. 623
LXXXVI. The Second and Third Challenge Gates. 636
LXXXVII. The Fourth and Fifth Challenge Gates. 642
LXXXVIII. The Final Gate passed. 647
LXXXIX. Good-bye, Tibet! 652
XC. The Labche Tribe. 660
XCI. Visit to my Old Teacher. 667
XCII. My Tibetan Friends in Trouble. 671
XCIII. Among Friends. 677
XCIV. The Two Kings of Nepāl. 682
XCV. Audience of the Two Kings. 685
XCVI. Second Audience. 688
XCVII. Once more in Kātmāndu. 692
XCVIII. Interview with the Acting Prime Minister. 697
XCIX. Painful News from Lhasa. 700
C. The King betrays his suspicion. 703
CI. Third Audience. 709
CII. Farewell to Nepāl and its Good Kings. 714
CIII. All’s well that ends well. 718
Illustrations in the Text.
PAGE
1. Author’s departure from Japan. 6
2. The Lama’s execution. 18
3. On the banks of the Bichagori river. 32
4. A horse in difficulties. 49
5. Tsarangese village girls. 57
6. Entering Tibet from Nepāl. 75
7. To a tent of nomad Tibetans. 79
8. A night in the open and a snow-leopard. 92
9. Attacked by dogs and saved by a lady. 100
10. Nearly dying of thirst. 114
11. A sand-storm. 117
12. Struggle in the river. 121
13. Meditating in the face of death. 125
14. A ludicrous race. 132
15. Lake Mānasarovara. 140
16. Religion _v._ Love. 151
17. Near Mount Kailasa. 169
18. Quarrel between brothers. 181
19. Attacked by robbers. 192
20. The cold moon reflected on the ice. 202
21. Fallen into a muddy swamp. 210
22. Meeting a furious wild yak. 229
23. Outline of the monastery of Tashi Lhunpo. 249
24. Reading the Texts. 266
25. Priest fighting with hail. 274
26. Outline of the residence of the Dalai Lama. 287
27. A vehement philosophical discussion. 306
28. An audience with the Dalai Lama. 316
29. Inner room of the Dalai Lama’s country house. 320
30. Room in the finance secretary’s house. 335
31. Unexpected meeting with friends. 341
32. Girl weeping at being suddenly commanded to marry. 356
33. At the bridegroom’s gate. Throwing an imitation sword
at the bride. 366, 367
34. The wife of an Ex-Minister punished in public. 378, 379
35. Funeral ceremonies: cutting up the dead body. 390, 391
36. Lobon Padma Chungne. 411
37. Je Tsong-kha-pa. 414
38. A soothsayer under mediumistic influence falling senseless. 426
39. Flogging as a means of education. 443
40. Priest-traders loading their yaks. 459
41. New year’s reading of the Texts for the Japanese Emperor’s
welfare. 465
42. Naming ceremony of a baby. 480
43. A picnic party in summer. 491
44. Prime Minister. 502
45. A corrupt Chief Justice of the monks. 534
46. The final ceremony of the Monlam. 538
47. A scene from the Monlam festival. 541
48. Procession of the Panchen or Tashi Lama in Lhasa. 568
49. Critical meeting with Tsa Rong-ba and his wife. 580
50. Revealing the secret to the Ex-Minister. 585
51. A mysterious Voice in the garden of Sera. 596
52. A distant view of Lhasa. 605
53. Farewell to Lhasa from the top of Genpala. 606
54. Crossing a mountain at midnight. 610
55. Night scene on the Chomo-Lhari and Lham Tso. 616
56. Beautiful scenery in the Tibetan Himālayas. 634
57. The fortress of Nyatong. 649
58. On the way to the snowy Jela-peak. 654
59. Accidental meeting with a friend and compatriot. 679
60. Struggle with a Nepālese soldier. 690
61. Meeting again with an old friend, Lama Buḍḍha Vajra. 695
62. The author and his friend Buḍḍha Vajra enjoying the
brilliant snow at Kātmāndu. 704
63. Nāgārjuna’s cave of meditation in Nepāl. 716
Photogravures.
TO FACE PAGE
1. The Author in 1909. _Frontispiece._
2. The Author just before leaving Japan. 1
3. Rai Bahāḍur Saraṭ Chanḍra Ḍās. 11
4. Lama Sengchen Dorjechan. 15
5. The Author meditating under the Boḍhi-tree. 25
6. Passport in Tibetan for the Author’s return to Tibet in
the future. 645
7. The Author as a Tibetan Lama at Darjeeling on his return. 667
8. The Author performing ceremonies in Tibetan costume. 669
9. The Prime Minister of Nepāl, H. H. Chanḍra Shamsīr. 685
10. The Commander-in-Chief of Nepāl, H. E. Bhim Shamsīr. 697
11. Mount Gaurīshaṅkara, the highest peak in the world.
(At the end of the volume).
Sketch-map.
1. Chart of the Route followed by the Author. (At the end of the volume.)
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR JUST BEFORE LEAVING JAPAN.]
CHAPTER I.
Novel farewell presents.
In the month of May, 1897, I was ready to embark on my journey, which
promised nought but danger and uncertainty. I went about taking leave
of my friends and relatives in Tokyo. Endless were the kind and
heartfelt words poured on me, and many were the presents offered me to
wish me farewell; but the latter I uniformly declined to accept, save
in the form of sincerely given pledges. From those noted for excessive
use of intoxicants, I exacted a promise of absolute abstinence from
“the maddening water;” and from immoderate smokers I asked the
immediate discontinuance of the habit that would end in nicotine
poisoning. About forty persons willingly granted my appeal for this
somewhat novel kind of farewell presents. Many of these are still
remaining true to the word then given me, and others have apparently
forgotten them since. At all events, I valued these “presents”
most exceedingly. In Osaka, whither I went after leaving Tokyo, I
also succeeded in securing a large number of them. Three of them I
particularly prized, and should not fail to mention them here; for, as
I think of them now, I cannot help fancying that they had transformed
themselves into unseen powers that saved me from the otherwise certain
death.
While still in Tokyo I called on Mr. Takabe Tona, a well-known
manufacturer of asphalt. Mr. Takabe had been a born fisher, especially
skilled in the use of the “shot-net,” and to catch fish had been the
joy and pleasure of his life. On the occasion of the leave-taking
visit which I paid him, I found him in a very despondent mood. He
volunteered to tell me that he had just lost a three-year old child of
his, and the loss had left his wife the most distracted woman in the
world, while he himself could not recover the peace of his mind, even
fishing having become devoid of its former charms for him. I said to my
host, who had always been a very intimate friend of mine and a member
of my former flock: “Do you really find it so hard to bear the death
of your child? What would you think of a person who dared to bind up
and kill a beloved child of yours, and roast and eat its flesh?” “Oh!
devilish! The devil only could do that; no man could,” answered he.
I quickly rejoined: “You are a fiend then, at least, to the fishes
of the deep”. Strong were the words I used then, but it was in the
fulness of my heart that I spoke them, and Mr. Takabe finally yielded
and promised me to fish no more. He was very obdurate at first; but
when I pointed out to him that it was at the risk of my life that I
was going to Tibet, and that for the sake of my religion, which was
also his, he stood up with a look of determination. He excused himself
from my presence for awhile, and then returned with some fishing-nets,
which he forthwith handed over to me, saying that those were the
weapons of murder with which he had caused the death of innumerable
denizens of the brine, and that I might do with them as I liked, for
he had no longer any use for them. I thereupon asked a daughter of the
host’s to build a fire for me in the yard; and, when it was ready, I
consigned the nets to flames in the presence of all--there were all
the members of the family and some visitors, besides, to witness the
scene. Among the visitors was Mr. Ogawa Katsutaro, a relative of the
family. This gentleman had also been an excellent sportsman, with
both gun and nets. He had seen the dramatic scene before him and heard
me pray for my host. As the nets went up in smoke, Mr. Ogawa rose and
said impressively: “Let me too wish that you fare well in Tibet, by
making to you the gift of a pledge: I pledge myself that I will never
more take the lives of other creatures for amusement; should I prove
false to these words let ‘Fudo Myo-oh’ visit me with death.” I had
never before felt so honored and gratified as I felt when I heard this
declaration. Then in Sakai, while taking leave of Mr. Ito Ichiro, an
old and lifelong friend of mine, who, also, counted net-fishing among
his favorite sports, I told him all about the burning of Mr. Takabe’s
nets; and he, too, did me the favor of following the example set by
my Tokyo friends. Then I called on Mr. Watanabe Ichibei at Osaka. He
is, as he has always been, a very wealthy man, now dealing chiefly
in stocks and trade with Korea. His former business was that of a
poultry-man, not in the sense of one who raises fowls, etc., but of one
who keeps an establishment where people go to have a poultry dinner.
His business throve wonderfully; but I knew that his circumstances were
such that he could well afford to forego such a sinful business as one
which involved the lives of hundreds of fowls every day, especially
as he had been a zealous believer of our religion. Several times
previously I had written him, beseeching him to give up his brutal
business, and I repeated the appeal on the occasion of my last visit
to him before my departure for Tibet, when he promised, to my great
gratification, that, as speedily as possible, he would change his
business, though to do so immediately was impracticable. I was still
more gratified when I learned that he had proved the genuineness of
his promise about a year and a half after my departure. Ordinarily
considered, my conduct in exacting these pledges might appear somewhat
presumptuous; but it ought to be remembered that the sick always need a
medicine too strong for a person in normal health, and the two classes
of people must always be treated differently in spiritual ministration
as in corporeal pathology. Be that as it may, I cannot help thinking of
these gifts of effective promises, as often as I recall my adventures
in the Himālayas and in Tibet, which often brought me to death’s door.
I know that the great love of the merciful Buḍḍha has always protected
me in my dangers; yet, who knows but that the saving of the lives of
hundreds and thousands of finny and feathered creatures, as the result
of these promises, contributed largely toward my miraculous escapes.
Farewell visits over, I was ready to start, but for some money. I
had had a small sum of one hundred yen of my own savings; but this
amount was swelled to 530 yen, by the generosity of Messrs. Watanabe,
Harukawa, and Kitamura of Osaka, Hige, Ito, Noda, and Yamanaka of
Sakai, and others. Of this total, I spent about one hundred in fitting
myself out for a peculiarly problematical journey, and the very modest
sum of half a thousand was all I had with me on my departure.
It is curious how little people believe your words, until you actually
begin to carry them out, especially when your attempt is a venturesome
one, and how they protest, expostulate, and even ridicule you, often
predicting failure behind your back, when they see that you are not to
be dissuaded. And I had the pleasure of going through these curious
experiences; for many indeed were those who came to me almost at the
last moment to advise, to ask, to beg me to change my mind and give
up my Tibetan trip, and I could see that they were all in earnest.
For instance, on the very eve of my departure, while spending my last
night at Mr. Maki’s in Osaka, a certain judge of the Local Court of
Wakayama came on purpose to tell me that I was bound to end my venture
in making myself a laughing-stock of the world by meeting death out of
fool-hardiness, and that I would do far better by staying at home and
engaging in my ecclesiastical work, a work which, he said, I had full
well qualified myself to undertake; to do the latter was especially
advisable for me, because the Buḍḍhist circle of Japan was in great
need of earnest and capable men, and so on. Seeing that I was not to be
moved in my determination, the judge said: “Suppose you lose your life
in the attempt? you will not be able to accomplish anything.” “But it
is just as uncertain whether I die, or I survive my venture. If I die,
well and good; it will be like the soldier’s death in a battle-field,
and I should be gratified to think that I fell in the cause of my
religion,” I answered. Then the judge gave me up for incorrigible and
went away, after wishing me farewell in a substantial manner. That was
on the night of June 24th, 1897. Early on the following morning I left
Osaka, and on the next day I embarked on the _Idzumi-maru_ at Kobe,
seen off by my friends and well-wishers already mentioned. Among them
was Mr. Noda Giichiro, who told me that he was very glad as well as
very sorry for this departure of mine, and that his words could not
give adequate expression to the feelings uppermost in his heart. I
thought these touching words expressed the feelings shared by my other
friends also.
[Illustration: AUTHOR’S DEPARTURE FROM JAPAN.]
Hats and handkerchiefs grew smaller and fainter until they went out
of sight, as the good ship _Idzumi_ steamed westward. Past Wada
promontory, my old acquaintances, the peaks of Kongo, Shigi and Ikoma,
in turn, disappeared in the rounding sea. In due time Moji was reached
and then, out of the Strait of Genkai, our ship headed direct for
Hongkong. At Hongkong, Mr. Thompson, an Englishman, boarded our ship,
and his advent proved to be a welcome change in the monotony of the
voyage. He said he had lived eighteen years in Japan, and he spoke
Japanese exceedingly well. I found in him an earnest and enthusiastic
Christian; and, as may be imagined, he and I came to spend much of
our time in religious controversies, which, as they were carried on,
it may be needless to add, in a most friendly way, became a source
of much pleasure and information, not only to ourselves, but also to
all on board. Another interesting experience which I went through
during the voyage was when I preached--and I preached quite a number
of times--before the officers and men of the ship, who proved the most
willing and interested audience I had ever come across.
On the 12th of July, the _Idzumi_ entered the port of Singapore, and
I put up at the Fusokwan Hotel there. On the 15th, I called at the
Japanese Consulate in the port, and saw Mr. Fujita Toshiro, our then
Consul there. Mr. Fujita had heard of me from the _Idzumi’s_ captain,
and he said to me: “I hear you are going to Tibet. I do not know how
you have got your venture mapped out, but I know it is a very difficult
thing to reach and enter that country. Even Col. Fukushima (now
Lieutenant-General, of trans-Siberian fame) made a halt at Darjeeling,
and had to retrace his steps thence, acknowledging practically the
impossibility of a Tibetan exploration, and I cannot see how you can
fare better. But if you must, I think there are only two ways of
accomplishing your purpose: namely, to force your way by the sheer
force of arms at the head of an expedition, for one; and to go as a
beggar, for the other. May I ask you about your programme?” I answered
Mr. Fujita to the effect that being a Buḍḍhist priest, as I was, the
first of the methods he had mentioned was out of the question for me,
and that my idea at the time was to follow the second course; although
I was far from having anything like a definite programme of my journey.
I told him, further, that I intended to wander on as the course of
events might lead me. I left the Consul in a very meditative mood.
I stayed a week in Fusokwan, and it was on the last day but one before
leaving it that I narrowly escaped a serious, even mortal, accident.
As a priest, I made it, as I make it now, my practice to do preaching
whenever and wherever an opportunity presented itself, and my rigid
adherence to this practice greatly pleased the proprietor of that
Singapore establishment. In consequence of this, I was treated with
special regard while there, and every day, when the bath was ready, I
was the first to be asked to have the warm water ablution, which is
always so welcome to a Japanese. On the 18th, the usual invitation was
extended to me, but I was just at that moment engaged in reading the
Text, and could not comply with it at once. The invitation was repeated
a second time, but, somehow or other, I was not ready to take my bath,
and remained in my room. Meanwhile, I heard a great noise, with a thud
that shook the whole building. A few moments later, I ascertained that
the sound and quaking were caused by the collapse and fall of the
bath-room from the second floor, where it had been situated, to the
ground below, with its bath, basin, and all the other contents, among
which the most important and unfortunate was a Japanese lady, who, as
I had been neglectful in accepting the invitation, was asked to have
her bath first. The lady was, as I afterward learned, very dangerously
hurt, buried, as she was, under _débris_ of falling stones, bricks and
timber, and she was taken to a local hospital, where she lay with very
little hope of recovery. I often shudder to think of what would have
become of me and of my Tibetan adventure, had I been more prompt, as
I had always been till then, in responding to all invitations of the
kind. I felt exceedingly sorry for the lady, who met the awful accident
practically in my stead; withal I look back to the incident as one
that augured well for my Tibetan undertaking, which, indeed, ended in
success.
The day after the accident, on the 19th of July, I took passage on
an English steamer, the _Lightning_, which, after calling at Penang,
brought me to Calcutta on the 25th of the month. Placing myself under
the care of the Mahāboḍhi Society of Calcutta, I spent several days
in that city, in the course of which I learned from Mr. Chanḍra Bose,
a Secretary of the Society, that I could not do better for my purpose
than to go to Darjeeling, and make myself a pupil of Rai Bahāḍur Saraṭ
Chanḍra Ḍās, who, as I was told, had some time before spent several
months in Tibet, and was then compiling a Tibetan-English dictionary
at his country house in Darjeeling. Mr. Chanḍra Bose was good enough
to write a letter of introduction to the scholar at Darjeeling in my
favor, and, with it and also with kind parting wishes of my countrymen
in the city and others, I left Calcutta on August 2nd, by rail. Heading
north, the train in almost no time brought its passengers to the river
Gaṅgā. We crossed the mighty stream in a steamer, and then boarded
another train on the other side. Heading north still, the train now
passed through cocoanut groves and green paddy-fields, over which, as
night came on, giant fire-flies, the like of which in size are not
to be found in Japan, flew about in immense swarms. The sight was
especially interesting after the moon had disappeared. The following
morning, that is, on the 3rd of August, the train pulled up at Siligree
Station, and there its passengers, including myself, were transferred
to a train of small mountaineering cars, which, faring ever northward,
forthwith began its tortuous ascent of the Himālayas, or rather, of
the outer skirt of the mighty range. With its bends and turns and
climbings, as the train labored onward and upward through the famous
“ḍalai-jungle,” it looked like some amphibian monster on its war path,
as I fancied, while the grind of the car wheels, with its sound echoed
and re-echoed, seemed to spread quaking terror over peaks and dales.
By 3 P. M., the train had made a climb of fifty miles and then landed
us at Darjeeling, which place is 380 miles distant from Calcutta. At
the station I hired a _ḍanlee_, which is a sort of mountaineering
palanquin, and, borne in it, I soon afterward arrived at Rai Saraṭ’s
retreat, Lhasa Villa, which I found to be a magnificent mansion.
[Illustration: RAI BAHADUR SARAT CHANDRA DAS, C.I.E.]