The King betrays his suspicion.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND BUDDHA VAJRA ENJOYING THE
BRILLIANT SNOW AT KATMANDU.]
On February 9th at two o’clock, accompanied again by Buḍḍha Vajra, I
presented myself at the palatial residence of His Highness Chanḍra
Shamsher, Prime Minister or King _de facto_ of Nepāl. The residence
with its grounds must cover an area of at least three hundred and fifty
yards square, and it has a guarded gate, within which are barracks,
a small parade-ground, and a race-course. Proceeding over a broad
pavement for about seven hundred yards, we came to the main entrance of
the palace. Inside the reception hall, into which we were taken, I saw
three chairs and a thick piece of white cloth carpet of the Nepālese
style at the upper end of the room, and a teak-wood shelf of European
design standing against a wall, with a white statue of a Nepālese
Goddess riding on an elephant on its top. Other conspicuous objects
catching the eye at a glance were a pair each of the carved heads of
lions and deer, and a huge pendulum clock. From where we were seated we
saw to the south through the glass-paned windows a most enchanting view
of the “Moon Peak,” the “Dragon Tree Peak” and other great elevations.
In the reception hall were many officers of the army and other
dignitaries. The Secretary for Foreign Affairs being one of the
company, took me to task--all by pre-arrangement as I suspect--and I
replied to his questions as well as I could.
“I believe more than twenty days have elapsed since your arrival here,”
said he; “how have you been employing yourself in the interval?”
“In religious meditation and in composing poems,” I replied.
“What is your court rank and what office do you hold in Japan?” he
asked.
“Nothing,” I answered.
But he continued: “Don’t try to make a secret of those things; do you
think we can form no idea of our own about you? It will be better for
you to tell me all.”
“Sir, I am a Buḍḍhist priest, and I possess no rank, nor order, nor any
office under the Japanese or any other Government for that matter.”
“Oh! come, Mr. Kawaguchi; how do you happen to visit Tibet and Nepāl,
in spite of the great expense involved?”
“I am absolutely free from all official connexions: I went to Tibet and
came to your country with the one sole object of completing my Buḍḍhist
study.”
Next he asked “What route did you take in entering Tibet?”
“By way of Mānasarovara,” answered I.
At this he evinced signs of suppressed excitement, and asked quickly:
“And what was the route you took in reaching Mānasarovara?”
“Sir,” I replied, “I cannot answer that question, except in the
presence of the King.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not wish to bring trouble on innocent parties.”
The other officers then took turns in catechising me as to the manners
and customs, national characteristics, and military organisation of
Tibet and of Japan. I heard them say in Nepālese that I must be an
emissary of the Japanese Government.
Presently we were told to proceed to the court of audience, whither
the rest of the assembly were now hurrying. I proceeded as far as a
portal, where I observed a large number of the provincial dignitaries
of Nepāl (as I subsequently found them to be) salāaming in the most
respectful manner. I also noticed one man in the crowd who appeared
greatly astonished to see me there: he was the chief of the district
of Tukje, in whose house I stayed when on my way to Tibet, and when I
went to him in no better capacity than a begging Chinese Lama.
The Prime-Minister King had finished examining the horses sent in as
a tribute and sat down on a sofa, and I advanced to his presence. He
asked me:
“What can I do for you now?”
“My first appeal to Your Highness is the forwarding of my petition
to the Dalai Lama of Tibet, and the second is about Your Highness’s
promise as to the Samskṛṭ text of the Buḍḍhist Scriptures.”
“We will talk about those things afterwards,” said he. “I understand
that you were in this country four years ago; is that true?”
“Yes, your Highness, I was most certainly here four years ago.”
He straightened himself up and said in a changed tone of voice--“Ha!
How was it that you did not tell me so when you saw me at Beelganji? Do
you not think that it was in the order of things that you should have
told me about your former visit to this country then?”
“I do not deny that, your Highness; let me say, however, that much as I
wished to do so then, I abstained from doing so owing to a certain fear
I entertained.”
“Might I know what you were afraid of?”
“Certainly, your Highness. In the first place I thought then, that
should I open my mouth carelessly, I might invite your anger and
consequent punishment on the officers of your challenge gates and many
other people of this country. I should have felt unbearable sorrow of
mind, had my thoughtless divulgence of the fact at the time involved
my friends and acquaintances in Nepāl in the troubles and afflictions
now being undergone by those in Tibet. I most earnestly beseech Your
Highness that you will punish none of your subjects because of my
having passed through this country once before, or else I pray your
Highness to allow me to retract all that I have said about my former
visit.”
“I grant your request; you may rest assured that I will not punish any
of our people on your account.”
“Your Highness has greatly relieved me; I thank your Highness for your
magnanimity.”
When truth speaks, it touches the heart; and I was gratified to notice
that the King seemed to believe my words. But when it came to the
question of the motive of my Tibetan and Nepāl journey, it was another
thing--as the King appeared to say, for he next asked me:
“Who sent you to our country and Tibet--was it your Minister of Foreign
Affairs, or your Chief Marshal? Tell me the truth.”
I was thunder-struck--I could see that even the King was laboring under
the suspicion that I was a political emissary of Japan. Never did I
feel more disgusted with what they call politics and diplomacy than
on that occasion; especially as I had always had a higher opinion of
Nepālese than of Tibetans. Absorbed in these thoughts I kept silence
for a while. The silence was misunderstood, for the King said:
“So you cannot disclose your secret?”
“Your Highness, there is no secret about me! I will tell your Highness
all the truth there is: it was my own self that sent me here.”
The Minister laughed, and exclaimed:
“Good; but you must know that one cannot travel abroad for six years,
unless he is well provided with money; and then you have given to me,
as well as to our Commander-in-Chief, presents which must have cost
you no small amount of money. Altogether the amount of money involved
cannot be such as is likely to be found in the pocket of a mere
Buḍḍhist priest with no worldly possessions. Then you seem to be a man
of scholarly attainments, besides being well informed of the affairs
of the world. You are now before me, and there is no necessity for you
to adhere to your secret. If however, you must keep your secret, I will
grant you a special audience the day after to-morrow, when you may see
me alone and tell me all. Should you still insist on being reserved,
then, I may withdraw all my promises to you; nor will I grant you any
protection.”
“I have long since vowed my vow to our Lord Buḍḍha, and I tell no
falsehood. If your Highness refuses to believe me, I can only rest
contented with the fact that I have always adhered to the truth, and
beyond that I shall have no means, for the present at least, to prove
the truth of what I say. I can only hope that a day will come when your
Highness will be convinced of the truth of what I say.”
“If you tell the truth,” replied the Minister, “nobody will suspect
you. I shall grant you another interview at half past ten on the
morning of the day after to-morrow, and I hope you will think well
about telling the truth in the meantime. I bid you good afternoon.”