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 Bu??hism 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 Bu??hism and thus to find the way of saving the people of the world from spiritual pain. Among the several countries where Bu??hism prevails, the only places where the true features of the Great Vehicle are preserved as the essence of Bu??hism are Japan and Tibet. The time has already come when the seed of pure Bu??hism 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 Bu??hism. 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 Bu??hism agrees with that of Japan. Thanks be to the Bu??ha the new Bu??hism in Tibet quite agrees with the real Shingon sect of Japan, both having their founder in the person of the Bo?hisa??va Nagarjuna. Therefore these two countries must work together towards the propagation of the true Bu??hism. 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 Bu??ha, 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 Bu??ha and other Gods; and why not co-operate with me in glorifying the world with the light of true Bu??hism?” In conclusion I added that I had been asked by Dhammapala of Ceylon to present the Pope with a relic of Shakya Bu??ha 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 Sara? Chan?ra ?as 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 Bu??ha in this world; indeed, the greatest devil is the one that can make himself most resemble a Bu??ha. For example, take the case of saint Upagup?a. He was the fifth saint from Shakya Bu??ha. He was born after the death of the Bu??ha, and thought how he might see the real Bu??ha, 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 Bu??ha 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 Bu??ha. He did so, and his request was granted at once. The devil-king immediately put on the appearance of Bu??ha and sat on the ‘Diamond-Seat.’ He looked so Bu??ha-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! Bu??ha must have led you.”

“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 sama?hi (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.