The Secret Leaks Out.
Why did I write the appeal? you may ask. At that time I could not
tell how the matter would turn out, and unless some measures were
taken beforehand, incurable evil might be the outcome. So I must at
any rate make it clear to all that I had come to this country for
the study and cultivation of Buḍḍhism and with no other intentions.
For that purpose I thought it well to write the letter, which I have
still by me. I flatter myself that it was written very nicely. I have
written many compositions, both prose and poetry, in the Tibetan
language, but I never wrote one that pleased me better. It took me
three nights to complete it. I may summarise its contents as follows.
As is considered proper in Tibetan the letter begins with respectful
words to the master of the beautiful country which is purified with
white snow. Then I say: “My original intention in coming to this
country was to glorify Buḍḍhism and thus to find the way of saving the
people of the world from spiritual pain. Among the several countries
where Buḍḍhism prevails, the only places where the true features of
the Great Vehicle are preserved as the essence of Buḍḍhism are Japan
and Tibet. The time has already come when the seed of pure Buḍḍhism
must be sown in every country of the world, for the people of the
world are tired of bodily pleasures which can never satisfy, and are
earnestly seeking for spiritual satisfaction. This demand can only be
supplied from the fountain of genuine Buḍḍhism. It is our duty as well
as our honor to do this. Impelled by this motive, I have come to this
country to investigate whether Tibetan Buḍḍhism agrees with that of
Japan. Thanks be to the Buḍḍha the new Buḍḍhism in Tibet quite agrees
with the real Shingon sect of Japan, both having their founder in the
person of the Boḍhisaṭṭva Nāgārjuna. Therefore these two countries
must work together towards the propagation of the true Buḍḍhism. This
was the cause that has brought me to this country so far away and over
mountains and rivers. My faithful spirit has certainly wrought on the
heart of Buḍḍha, and I was admitted to the country which is closed
from the world, to drink from the fountain of Truth; the Gods must
therefore have accepted my ardent desire. If that be true, why should
your Holiness not protect me who have already been protected by the
Buḍḍha and other Gods; and why not co-operate with me in glorifying the
world with the light of true Buḍḍhism?” In conclusion I added that I
had been asked by Dhammapāla of Ceylon to present the Pope with a relic
of Shākya Buḍḍha and a silver reliquary, and begged his acceptance of
the gift. When the letter was finished I was in so much haste to copy
it on good paper that I did not think anything of the consequence if
it were presented--that my letter would disclose my person and that I
should be put to death accordingly.
On the 20th of May I returned to Lhasa and lodged at the Minister’s.
That day I went with the ex-Treasury Minister to the garden-party held
at the forest of Tsemoe Lingka. This was my last good time in Tibet.
At the party there were many old friends of mine present, and many
country-gentlemen, who were still staying in Lhasa for the ceremony. I
talked freely with them and spent the whole day in the most pleasant
conversation on the subject of the lives of the ancient saints of Tibet
and on various other topics. While I was thus passing a pleasant day,
a very serious thing in regard to my person was occurring at the other
end of the city of Lhasa.
On this same day, the caravan chief called on Yabsi Sarba (the house of
the father of the new Grand Lama). The present Pope had lost both his
parents, and his elder brother was looked upon as his father-in-law. He
was dignified by the Government of China with the title of Prince, and
lived in magnificence in the southern part of Lhasa. While they were
talking together over their glasses of wine, the caravan chief found
what he called a good opportunity to disclose my person. As I learned
it from Tsa Rong-ba, the dialogue between them ran as follows:
“Has your Highness heard that there is a stranger in this country, who
is neither Chinese nor Mongolian?”
“Tell me what he is,” said the Pope’s brother.
“He is a true Lama from Japan. The Japanese Lama resembles a Chinese
Hoshang, but is far more praiseworthy. He takes only two meals a day
and after midday nothing touches his mouth. He eats no meat and drinks
no wine.”
“Where is he living?” asked the brother of the Pope.
“If I mention his name you must know where he is living. His name is
Serai Amchi; the famous Serai Amchi is a Japanese.”
After a pause for consideration the Pope’s brother replied: “I have
heard of Serai Amchi. He must be an expert physician to be sent for
by the Pope, the nobility and the clergy. One who masters the art of
medicine so thoroughly as to gain such a great reputation in so short a
space of time cannot be a Chinese. I once suspected that he might be a
European. But now that I hear this from you, my doubts about him have
been removed. Yes, the Japanese can do quite as great things as the
Europeans. But” (shaking his head) “this is news that troubles me not
a little.”
“What troubles Your Highness?”
“If I am not wrongly informed, Japan is on very friendly terms with
England. When I consider this I cannot but suspect her. Besides, Japan
is so strong a country that she can bully China. Such a country is
very likely to think it easy to subdue a small country like our own.
Moreover the religion of Japan is the same as that of Tibet; is that
not a fact which might easily awaken the ambition for subjugation?
Therefore I cannot take him for anything but a spy sent by the Japanese
Government to investigate the state of things in Tibet for a sinister
purpose. Will not the nobility who are connected with Serai Amchi
suffer as did those who were connected with Saraṭ Chanḍra Ḍās when he
entered the country? Will not the Sera monastery be closed again? The
matter cannot be overlooked. Some measures must be taken about it.”
This conclusion was an unexpected one for the caravan chief, for he had
thought the story would please His Highness. His disappointment was
immediately followed by the feeling of fear, and with an intention to
defend me he said:
“He cannot possibly be taken for a spy. He lives in Lhasa, where meat
is considered necessary food, and he often goes to the temple of Sera
where meat and meat gruel are freely given as alms to the priests, but
he never touches them, and feeds only on scorched barley. Such a man is
surely a Lama of Japan.”
This strong argument was at once denied by the Pope’s brother, who said:
“You consider so, for you are short of wisdom. There are devils
that resemble Buḍḍha in this world; indeed, the greatest devil is
the one that can make himself most resemble a Buḍḍha. For example,
take the case of saint Upagupṭa. He was the fifth saint from Shākya
Buḍḍha. He was born after the death of the Buḍḍha, and thought how
he might see the real Buḍḍha, who is said to have been perfect in
physique and physiognomy. He heard that the devil-king of the sixth
heaven had often seen the Buḍḍha while the latter was passing through
His worldly life. So he thought he would go and ask the devil-king
whether he would, by his miraculous power, give him a glimpse of the
real Buḍḍha. He did so, and his request was granted at once. The
devil-king immediately put on the appearance of Buḍḍha and sat on the
‘Diamond-Seat.’ He looked so Buḍḍha-like that the saint could but
prostrate himself before the image. In a similar manner Serai Amchi,
who really is a spy, may have taken the form of a Lama to deceive
us. No, he cannot be trusted. The very fact that he could enter this
country, so strictly closed from the rest of the world, tells that he
is by no means an ordinary person. Did he alight from heaven? He must
have had superhuman power to perform such a miracle. Therefore he must
not be treated carelessly. At any rate this is a difficult problem to
solve.” This argument was strong enough to make Choen Joe sober and
pale.
That day (20th of May) towards evening Takbo Tunbai Choen Joe called
on Tsa Rong-ba, as I learnt afterwards, with a rather melancholy face.
He had determined not to say anything about his conversation with the
Pope’s brother. But it was supper-time when he came in, and the host
persuaded him to share with him a few glasses of drink, as is customary
in Tibet. Pretty soon the host perceived that the caravan chief was
drinking with unusual haste and a sad look. Being intimate friends, Tsa
Rong-ba asked the reason, saying:
“You must be uneasy in your mind to drink in such a way. I wish you
would tell me what is the matter with you.”
The caravan chief said that nothing annoyed him. But in the meanwhile,
the drink had had its effect, and made the man who was resolved to say
nothing speak out the details of the whole thing as has just been
stated. When the story was over it was midnight, and Choen Joe left the
house, leaving the host and hostess in so much anxiety that they could
not sleep at all. The next morning (May 21st) Tsa Rong-ba sent me a
messenger accompanied by a horse to Sera, to take me back directly to
his house. But I was not in the monastery, and this messenger could not
find me at the Treasury Minister’s either, for on that day I did not go
there. The anxiety of Tsa Rong-ba increased when I was not to be found.
The special reason of his anxiety was this; I possessed a letter from
Darjeeling which had reached me through the hand of Tsa Rong-ba, and
if I were to be captured the letter would be confiscated, and it was
evident that he would also be put in prison. Evil might come to him as
well as to myself. No wonder he hunted for me everywhere, all over the
city of Lhasa. Tired with hunting for me, he had almost given up his
attempt, thinking that I must already have been captured, when towards
evening I called at his door. His surprise was great, and he came to
me almost trembling and with tears too, and said: “How lucky we are to
have you here! Buḍḍha must have led you.”
[Illustration: CRITICAL MEETING WITH TSA RONG-BA AND HIS WIFE.]
I comprehended that something unusual had happened, but telling them to
be quiet, I took my seat, and was ready to listen. Then they told me
the whole story, one supplying what the other omitted. When they had
finished, Tsa Rong-ba asked me:
“What do you intend to do? At any rate, I hope you will burn the letter
I brought from Darjeeling. But, what are you going to do?”
I replied: “For myself, my course is already determined. I have written
an appeal to the Pope. Whatever may befall me I have made up my mind.”
“Do you know all about it then?” said he with a surprised look.
“Yes, I know,” said I, “I could see such a thing.”
“That is why I looked upon you with respectful awe,” he answered. “I
heard that the Pope’s brother said you have superhuman power, and I
believe his saying is true.”
“No,” I returned “I have no superhuman power. Only I inferred that such
a thing must happen. So I have made what I thought preparation against
it.”
Tsa Rong-ba, who followed a peculiar kind of reasoning, protested: “No,
do not say so; I know you heard the conversation between the caravan
chief and the Pope’s brother by some mysterious means. Otherwise how
would you come down to our house on such an occasion as this? But then
why have you not been kind enough to call on us a little earlier? We
could not sleep at all last night. But are you really going to present
to the Pope the letter you have written to him? In doing so, you little
think of what will become of us. I doubt not you are a venerable Lama,
but the Pope’s brother is by no means a good-natured man. We cannot
tell what he is going to say to the Pope, and if the Pope listens to
him who can tell the result? But I feel sure we must suffer, don’t you
think so?”
“I cannot tell,” said I, “what I shall do until I try samāḍhi (go into
abstract contemplation). For the present I can only tell you that there
are four things to be considered in the ‘silent contemplation’. They
are as follows:
(1) If the presentation of my letter to the Pope does not do any harm
to you, the Minister of the Treasury, and the Sera monastery, I will
present the letter though I should suffer from doing so, for I am the
only Japanese who has visited this country, and I think it would be
very sad to leave this country without telling the people who I am, and
what I have come for.
(2) If the presentation of my letter causes any harm to any of you, I
will not present it, though I myself am free from danger.
(3) If I can go to India without giving notice to the Pope, and it
does not cause any harm to any of my acquaintances, I will go to India
directly.
(4) If the presentation of my letter would cause any harm to them
after my departure, I will stay here and present the letter, because
if it is the cause of evil whether I stay here or not, it is my duty
to stay here and share the evil with my acquaintances to whom I have
caused it. I will never be the only one to escape from danger. If I
come to the conclusion by the contemplation that there will be no
evil caused after my departure, I will leave this country. But as I
am not fully contented with my own decision on my own account, I will
go to my teacher Ganden Ti Rinpoche and consult with him. Of course I
shall not say that I am a Japanese, nor that I am going back for that
reason, but I will say that I must go on a pilgrimage and ask him his
judgment whether my departure is advantageous for many people who are
suffering; and if his judgment agrees with mine I will adopt it, and if
not, I will go and ask the same of the Lama of Tse-Moeling, and if the
latter’s judgment be the same as my teacher’s I will follow it, but if
it agrees with mine, I shall follow that.”
The husband and wife, who were listening to me attentively, interrupted
me here and told me that I needed not to ask another’s opinion; my own
judgment would be good enough to be acted upon.
“No,” said I, “that will not do. The thing is too serious to be
determined by myself; for it concerns others as well.”
They agreed with me and we parted. That night I was seated all alone
in my room at the Treasury Minister’s and quietly entered into the
silent contemplation and tried to find the best course to be taken.
After some time I reached the ‘world of non-Ego,’ and the judgment
was: “If I stay in this country it will be harmful to the people,
whether I present the appeal or not; and on the other hand if I leave
the country, it is no great loss to these people.” Thus I came to
the conclusion to leave the country, though it was not quite decided
whether or not I should present the letter to the Pope before leaving.
Early on the next morning (27th of May) I called on Ganden Ti Rinpoche,
and asked him to give me his judgment, simply stating that I was going
on a pilgrimage. The master with a smiling face judged for me and
said: “The sick people who (you say) are suffering, will get better
by your going on a pilgrimage. But by the sick people you do not mean
the bodily patients, do you? It may mean that if you stay here, other
doctors in Lhasa cannot live, and so you are going to save them by your
departure?”
He gave his judgment half in joke, but I thought the teacher was
intelligent enough to perceive that I was leaving the country never
to come back. I heard there were many great Lamas in Tibet, but he
was surely the most respectable priest of all with whom I became
acquainted. This was the last time I saw this venerable teacher.