The Two Kings of Nepal.
Having made up my mind as to what I was going to do, I took a train
back to Calcutta a few nights after. Money has its power in India, as
elsewhere, and soon afterwards I was once more on my way to Nepāl.
By some means I was introduced to a Professor Keḍarnāṭh Chatterji,
an old Bengalī gentleman who had once been the Principal of the
Municipal School of Kātmāndu, Nepāl, and was then living in Calcutta
and known to be in the good graces of the King of Nepāl. He readily,
even cheerfully, complied with my request and gave me a letter of
introduction to the King of Nepāl. I may observe that the natives of
Tibet, Bhūṭan and Sikkim are allowed to travel in Nepāl, so long as
they are in possession of a passport issued by the Commander-in-Chief
of Beelganji; but no other foreigners are admitted into that country
unless armed with the King’s own pass. Hence my negotiations with
Professor Chatterji, to whom I presented myself as one anxious to make
a pilgrimage to all the holy Buḍḍhist stations in Nepāl.
On January 10th, 1902, I left Calcutta by train and reached Raxaul, a
station on the Nepālese border, at dusk of the following day. It was
about six o’clock then and, hiring a coolie to carry my luggage, I
crossed the Siman River which separated India from Nepāl. Landed on the
other side, I was refused further progress by the officers of a police
station there, on the ground that the King of Nepāl was soon coming
home, and that, consequently, no one from beyond the borders could be
allowed entrance into the country, until they had been subjected to
thorough examination and found harmless. I noticed that the natives
begged, begged, and were finally allowed to pass on. I thought that
here too bribery had its logic. But, no, I was a foreigner and could
under no circumstance be granted an immediate passage. I finally
produced Chatterji’s letter of introduction to the King of Nepāl. The
policeman on attendance, who until then had refused even to let me
interview the chief of the station, now took me to that functionary.
The upshot was that the station chief caused my letter of introduction,
together with a very carefully prepared description of my person, to
be forwarded to Beelganji and ordered me to wait for the result. At
Beelganji was the Commander-in-Chief, who was then acting there as
Regent in the absence of the King, and it was to this authority that
the documents were sent.
The distance between the Siman police station and Beelganji is only
about a mile. I had waited in vain till eleven o’clock at night for the
expected instruction, and I had just set about making a hot cup of tea
in order to keep myself warm, when a policeman belonging to the Royal
Palace Force put in an appearance and ordered me to accompany him at
once to Beelganji. At Beelganji I was taken to a cottage in front of
the Local Hospital to lodge for the night. The next morning I presented
myself at the Regent’s court and there had to wait till five in the
afternoon before I could have an interview with His Excellency, who
informed me that the King was coming home on the 14th and that he would
then endeavor to secure for me an audience with his royal master.
I may here explain why I have given to the present chapter the heading:
“The Two Kings of Nepāl.” Nepāl, indeed, possesses two Kings, a King
_de jure_ and a King _de facto_, in Nepālese respectively Pānch Sarkār
and Tīn Sarkār. The _de facto_ King is the real Ruler of Nepāl and
the _de jure_ King is only the figure-head, maintaining his court by
means of a civil list, or rather a pension allowed by the former. In
name the _de facto_ King is the Prime Minister of the country, but the
actual sovereignty is in his hands, and the nation knows only him as
its King. The existence of the King _de jure_ is known, it may be said,
only by a circle of Government officials, the general mass having but a
very vague idea about it. It was of the return home of the _de facto_
King that I was informed.
About sunset on the 14th, the Prime-Minister (the King _de facto_) did,
indeed, arrive in Beelganji, preceded and followed by a _cortège_ of
great splendor, the most conspicuous feature of which was a train of
enormous elephants, on which were seated the Princes and Princesses
of the royal family. Nepāl is a polygamous country, and the number of
royal scions is consequently very large. The entrance of the royal
procession into Beelganji was announced with a salvo of thirteen guns.
So the King returned, but the Regent advised me to wait another day,
promising me that he would manage to obtain an audience for me at about
ten o’clock the following morning, or more accurately, he would arrange
the matter for me if I should present myself at the palace at about ten
o’clock in the morning and patiently wait there till five o’clock in
the afternoon. This I did.
It appeared that no person, as a rule, is granted an audience in the
palace on the occasion of a first presentation. However I was taken
into an inner court and was presented to the King as he came out on his
evening walk. Then I had the singular satisfaction of his accepting
from me a certain object of Japanese fine art. The Prime-Minister King
seemed to be very well pleased with my present, and even offered to pay
me its price. Whatever the King’s offer meant, I insisted on its being
a present on my part. Then I was invited to go in with His Highness,
who treated me like a ten years’ acquaintance.
[Illustration: THE PRIME MINISTER OF NEPAL, H. H. CHANDRA SHAMSIR.]