Japan in Lhasa.
Everything went well with me, for I had earned much money, and
besides everything needed for my livelihood was to be given to me
by the Ex-Minister. So at last, leaving a young lad in charge of my
quarters at Sera, I removed to the residence of the Ex-Minister with
my furniture. I told the lad never to let it out of his mouth that I
was with the Ex-Minister, and to try to send most patients to some
other doctor in the city. I provided for him some way of living and
study. Still, I went to Sera occasionally to have my catechism. My
new dwelling was six yards by four. It was divided in the middle into
two rooms, and being the dwelling of a noble, the walls were brightly
colored green with various pictures. The thick carpet had flowers of
gold woven in it in the Tibetan style. There was a desk of ebony, as
well as a little Buḍḍhist shrine. The accommodation was very complete,
and everything was clean. Beside this residence there was another,
that of the present Minister of Finance. It was three storied, the
Ex-Minister Cham-ba Choe-sang’s being a two-storied house. It was quiet
there and my priest friends no more troubled me in my study by their
calls, but it was a little too far for me to go to my teacher’s.
[Illustration: ROOM IN THE FINANCE SECRETARY’S HOUSE.]
Now it happened that I found a very good tutor. The Ex-Minister had
a natural half-brother, Ti Rinpoche (the present ruler of Tibet) by
title, whose father was a Chinaman. He was of Sera extraction, and had
been made a priest when seven years old, and was then sixty-seven years
of age. The previous year he was created the highest priest in all
Tibet. The title of his priestly rank is Ti Rinpoche of Ganden. There
is, in the temple of Ganden, a priestly seat on which Je Tsong-kha-pa,
the Founder of the New Sect, had sat, and on which none may sit but the
Dalai Lama and this highest priest. The former, however, cannot always
seat himself on it, while the latter, living at Ganden, can sit on it
any time. The Grand Lama had the right to sit on it by birth, while Ti
Rinpoche had had to have a secret training of thirty long years after
he had received the degree of doctor in Buḍḍhism, before he was given
the privilege. When this training of long years had made him a priest
perfectly learned and virtuous, he was elected the highest priest in
Tibet and given the privilege to sit on the seat. Any person or priest
who has attained moral and intellectual perfection after a study and
training of some fifty or sixty years may use this seat, except sons of
butchers, blacksmiths, hunters, and men of the lowest caste.
Hence in reality, the highest priest must be more learned and virtuous
than the Grand Lama. I was very fortunate to have as my tutor such a
high personage. This is a privilege denied to most people in Tibet,
where the distinction of castes is given so much importance, that it
is among the most difficult things for any one to have an interview
with such a great man. In this way, I succeeded in learning much about
the secrets of Tibetan Buḍḍhism. The highest priest at the first
glance at me seemed to know what kind of a man I am, and treated me
as what I suppose he thought me to be. He hinted, if indirectly, that
he felt some fear for me, and I, too, began to fear him. Still, he
must have found faithfulness in me, for he taught me Buḍḍhism in its
true form, and I felt correspondingly grateful to him, for none of the
many doctors, learned scholars, religionists, and hermits with whom I
studied Buḍḍhism influenced me half so much as this highest priest.
It must have been this virtuous Buḍḍhist, I believe, who influenced
the Ex-Minister, his brother, when fallen into so great a folly, to
repent of his sin and to live a peaceful life. And the nun-wife of the
Ex-Minister, let me add, was of hardly less active temper, though she
had not so many ideas as her husband.
This nun-wife had made a pilgrimage of repentance about twenty years
before to Kātmāndu in Nepāl. I was much delighted to hear the story
of this pilgrimage and its hardships, the more so as I had been in
Nepāl myself. I could not but be moved by the charitable deeds of both
the Ex-Minister and the nun, and instead of blaming them for their
bad behavior, which brought shame on Buḍḍhism, I rather sympathised
with them for it, as they had so many things in common. They taught
me how great was the power of charming love, and warned me against
it. The more acquainted I became with this family, the more fully I
began to know about it. I came to understand the state of the family,
the conditions of the servants, and every particular of the house.
On the other hand, I had little opportunity to talk with the present
Minister of Finance, who lived next to my house, for he was too busy
to receive guests. His name was Ten-Jin Choe Gyal; he was quiet and
very strong-willed, but when he talked to me he smiled and made me
feel quite at home with him. He put off all the dignity of a Minister,
mainly because, I believe, I was being treated by the Ex-Minister
and his nun-wife as if I were their son. Being in the Ministerial
chair, he was often able to disclose to me some important secrets of
the Government, and we talked quite confidentially with each other.
If any grave subject presented itself at the court, he usually gave
no opinion of his own there, but would consult with the Ex-Minister,
whom he regarded as his superior, and the Ex-Minister then gave him
his opinions about the subject, discussing it from various points
of view. The Ex-Minister would have been by that time promoted to
the position of the highest priest had it not been for his ill-famed
deeds of love, which were a cause of impeachment against him. Had this
strong man been appointed Premier under the present able Grand Lama,
we might have expected much wiser government in Tibet. I was often
present at the meetings of the two Ministers, and was requested to give
my humble opinions about the subjects discussed. This gave me a good
opportunity of studying Tibetan politics. While in the monastery, where
was discussed only the philosophy of Buḍḍhism, I could hear little or
nothing about the Government of the Grand Lama, which was generally
supposed to be good. The priests know only how reverently to bend their
heads before the Dalai Lama, but are entirely ignorant of the secrets
of their Government, or I should say the secrets are kept from the
priests; but now I succeeded in hearing many of the diplomatic secrets
about the relations of the Government with China, Britain, Russia and
Nepāl.
I have already told how I met the Prince of Para at the druggist’s; now
I met no less unexpectedly a merchant of Darjeeling, Tsa Rong-ba by
name, who also proved afterwards a great help to me at the time of my
departure from Tibet. I think before I go on further I shall do well to
narrate how I happened to meet him. Once I was walking along Parkor,
the ‘Middle path for the circumambulation of the holy temple of the
Buḍḍha’ and the busiest street in Lhasa. At the sides of the street are
many shops, not very different from those in most other countries. Many
portable shops or stalls may also be seen in the street, in which daily
necessaries are sold, and articles of food, clothing and furniture.
Most of these things are of course made in Tibet, though some are
imports from Calcutta and Bombay as also from China. But the thing that
attracted my eye most was a box of Japanese matches. Japanese matches,
manufactured by Doi of Osaka, are imported into the capital of Tibet,
besides some other kinds without the names of the manufacturers on
them. There were to be seen, among others, those which have the trade
mark of two elephants and of one, as well as the wax candles with the
trade mark of an elephant coming out of a house. The paper was red
with a white picture on it. Some matches of Swedish make were also
imported, but they are now ousted by the Japanese. Some Japanese bamboo
blinds with pictures of women may also be seen in Tibet. Some _kutani_
porcelain is seen in the high circles, but rarely in stores or shops.
Japanese scroll pictures too are often found hanging in the houses of
rich families. These inanimate Japanese articles are more daring than
the people who made them!
Wishing that these articles, an outcome of Japanese civilisation,
might be conducive to light in dark Tibet, I walked along the street,
till I came to a shop where I saw a cake of soap. It looked as good
as any that could be found in the Tibetan capital. I walked into the
shop and asked how much it cost, and I noticed the master staring at
me. He looked very much like a merchant with whom I became acquainted
in Darjeeling but I could not believe that he could be settled there,
and wondered if he were a kinsman of that merchant. No, it was, as I
found afterwards, the man himself, whose name was Tsa Rong-ba. But I
had then so different an appearance myself that he too could not easily
recognise me. For while in Darjeeling I had usually dressed myself in
Japanese dress and scarcely went out in a Tibetan costume, though I
often put it on indoors. After my arrival in Tibet, I clothed myself
entirely as a Tibetan. Moreover I now had my beard growing long, which
I had not at Darjeeling. The man told me that the soap was too dear,
and showed me another cheap and good kind, but I liked the dearer one
better and bought two cakes of it. When I came home and showed them to
the Minister of Finance, he was so pleased with them for their good
smell that he asked me to let him have one cake, so I gave him both.
[Illustration: UNEXPECTED MEETING OF FRIENDS.]
A couple of days afterwards I again went to Tsa Rong-ba’s to buy a few
cakes of the same soap, as I feared it might soon be out of stock.
Instead of selling me the soap, the master stared me in the face. When
I tried to pay the price, he began asking me if I knew him. The sound
of his voice plainly told me his identity and I laughed as I replied
that I knew him. He looked much surprised and told me to come into his
house. Telling his servants to close the doors of the shop, for it was
now getting dark, he led me into his house, which was small in size
but neat and clean. I was led into his parlor upstairs, and found his
wife who came with him from Darjeeling. I recognised her at once, but
she seemed to have quite forgotten me. Even when her husband said she
must know me, as she had received much kind treatment from me, she
could not recollect me, until he told her how she had received medicine
from me when ill at Darjeeling. She then expressed her joy at seeing me
in such a strange place and so unexpectedly.
Then the husband and wife expressed their great wonder that I, a
stranger, had succeeded in entering Tibet, when it was exceedingly
difficult for even a Tibetan to come or go to the capital. They did not
believe me when I told them that I had come by the way of Jangthang;
for they said there were soldiers placed on guard all along the road. I
said I had come through pathless wilds, but they refused to believe me.
But now I thought myself to be within a hair’s breadth of the danger
of detection, which would bring everything in my plan to naught. Were
I known to be a Japanese, some evil or other would certainly befall
me, and all the kindness of the Ministers and the priests at Sera to
me would end in air-bubbles. I feared this merchant might betray me to
the Government for his own benefit. I must get the better of him, I
thought, and I tried to do so.
Assuming a serious attitude, speaking in a determined tone of voice,
and looking the man and the woman straight in their eyes, I said:
“Here is a fine job for you; you can give me up to the authorities;
tell them that I am a ‘Japan Lama’ in disguise, who smuggled himself
into the country against its laws. By so doing you may serve a double
purpose, for I have been thinking that sooner or later I shall have to
do the same thing myself, only I was afraid that they might not believe
me. But if you do it for me you will save me the trouble, while the
authorities will believe; besides, you may come into a nice bit of
fortune; for they will reward you for your information with a large sum
of money. I have long made up my mind.”
I noticed a change come over the looks of the woman first: she turned
pale and even began to tremble; but the man spoke first, and, in a
tone of both appeal and reproach, earnestly protested that he had no
such intention as that of which I seemed to suspect him. Indeed he
went the length--quite voluntarily--of swearing by “Cho-o Rinpoche”
that he would never betray me, lest he should die. Still I urged them
both. He once more gave his pledge, in which the woman joined in the
most fear-stricken manner, both raising their hands, with which they
pointed in the direction of the ‘Buḍḍha temple’ of Lhasa. I knew what
the latter act with the words of the oath meant. I became convinced
of their sincerity, and saw that I was safe in their hands. For Cho-o
Rinpoche means “Holiness of the Savior” and forms in Tibet the most
solemn words of swearing which, when uttered in the manner described,
furnish the strongest possible proof of sincerity. It is true that
Tibetans are much given to swearing, and possess a great variety of
expressions for the purpose, there being forty-five of them to my own
knowledge. Those most commonly in use are “_Konjogsum_” (Holy three
treasures) and “_Ama tang te!_” (separate me from my mother). The
natives are in the habit of using these oaths as words of interjection.
But when, in all seriousness, they subject themselves to the form
observed by my host and his wife, they may safely be depended upon
for their absolute sincerity. As it was, I pressed them no further,
and they seemed to be well pleased at the final dispelling of all my
suspicion against them.
Before I took leave of them they asked me about my lodging, and finding
out I was the “_Serai amchi_,” the doctor of Sera, they were most
astonished and pleased--pleased to know that they had as acquaintance
a man of so great renown as I was then in Lhasa. From that time onward
I was a frequent visitor and trusted friend at Tsa Rong-ba’s, with
always something to give the good couple, as was the case with me at
Gyami menkhang’s, the Chinese druggist.