I could not be calm now that I had heard such terrors were raging in Tibet. In the first place, the ex-Treasury-minister’s fate caused me much uneasiness. His acute and strong character made him many enemies among his mean fellow-countrymen, who might now find an opportunity of revenging themselves upon him. Tsa Rong-ba and his wife, my tutor at the Sera Seminary and my security there, all of whom had shown me much favor and kindness, were now suffering in chains; how could I sleep in peace? How I wished I had been able to fly as they said I could, and go to Lhasa to their rescue! Many considerations came to my mind as to the way of delivering them; but only two of them seemed to be practicable. The one was to go to Peking and to secure an order from the Chinese Government to the Tibetan to suspend the hideous cruelty, and the other was to go to Nepāl and ask the help of the Nepālese Government. It took me a long while to decide which method I should choose, but at last I determined to try the latter.
First, it was doubtful whether the Chinese Government would admit any application, either from myself or through the influence of the Japanese Government. In the second place, China herself has ceased to have credit in Tibet. In Tibet it is believed, even among the Government officers, that the present Chinese Emperor has been married to an English lady, and that since then, as she is on good terms with England, the country is always disturbed. Besides they know that China has become so helpless that they can disobey her without being chastised. Lastly, the Tibetan Government does not like any diplomatic interference from China, because China is a country that proclaims herself as friendly with all foreign countries. On the other hand, Nepāl is much feared by the Tibetans, for the people of Nepāl are very strong, and their soldiers, disciplined in the English style, prove themselves very brave in time of war. So the Tibetans are trying not to offend her, and her advice is heard with more attention than that of China. What made me think of the greater probability of success through applying to the Nepālese Government was the fact that that country puts so much trust in Japan that she sends many students to Japan for study. Thus I was determined to go to Nepāl.
To do this, however, some money was needed, of which I had none at that time; indeed, I had even some small debts. Thanks to heaven, help came in my need; my acquaintances at my native town were so kind as to collect and send me three hundred yen, and with this money I was ready to start. But there was one thing that held me back; it was the compilation of a Tibetan grammar, which I had sometime ago begun at the request of my teacher Saraṭ Chanḍra Ḍās, who needed a complete grammar of the Tibetan language to append to his Tibetan-English dictionary. I began at once, and wrote some twenty pages, but the complete study of the grammar of a foreign language is not to be compared to writing compositions for papers or magazines; books must be referred to and the opinions of others must be consulted. And thus three months were spent, but the completion of the grammar proceeded at a very sluggish pace and I felt that it would take a year or more to finish it. But the present prison affair in Lhasa required my immediate exertion, otherwise all hope might be gone. So I told my teacher that I had to suspend the work, and towards the end of November I left Darjeeling and came to Calcutta.
[CHAPTER XCIII.]
Among Friends.
I arrived at Calcutta and lodged at the Mahāboḍhi Society’s rooms, where I found many priests from Ceylon and Burma as my fellow-lodgers and conversational companions. One or two days after my arrival, I called on Mr. Kōjun Omiya, one of my fellow-students in Japan, who was now staying here for a long time for the study of Samskṛṭ. He had not the slightest notion of my being in the same town, and I was dressed in Tibetan clothes when I called on him. Being informed by his servant that he was in the parlor, I entered the room without being announced. Owing to the total disuse of Japanese for many years, it was some while before I could utter a single word in that language, so I simply bowed to him a little and stared at him. My old friend, who was also staring at me and undoubtedly feeling offended by the intrusion of a strange man in a Tibetan dress, addressed me in Hinḍusṭāni: “Whence have you come?”
I could not help laughing to hear him say this, but at the same time the words in Japanese came back to me and I said: “Are you not Omiya?”
He did not yet recognise me, and asked in Japanese: “You are a Japanese who knows me? But who are you?”
I replied: “I am Kawaguchi.”
He was of course much surprised by so great a change in me that I could easily have passed for a Tibetan. I was soon shown to his room, which was kept very neat, and we talked about our own country. Mr. Omiya is a priest of the Tendai Sect and a very agreeable companion, and from this time I shared his room. On the evening of December 14th, Dr. E. Inouye, the president of the Tetsugakkwan in Tokyo (where we were instructed) came to Calcutta and called on us. I need not describe here how delighted our kind teacher was to see me back safe from the Forbidden Land.