Part Two
There
is an analogy between the misunderstandings of the French explorers and the
Buddhist monks and the local villagers and the story that Léon Daudet tells
about his friend Marcel Schwob and the retired financial agent Salomon
Ignace, two Jews—of different generations and degrees of assimilation into
French society, Schwob almost completely absorbed into the surrounding culture,
Ignace still looking and sounding like the Alsatian Jew he was throughout his
life. When the older man hears the report
on Dutruil de Rhin’s death at the hands of the Tibetans, he assumes that these
monks and villagers were savages, and takes the tale as another example of wild
men and cannibals, as he has read about in Africa and other exotic lands. Marcel Schwob is shocked and embarrassed by
the old Jew’s ignorance, both of world geography and recent history, as indeed
he ought to be, since Daudet sniggers into his notebook on the ludicrous
argument between two Jews—since, in the eyes of an anti-Semite, all Jews are
the same, any differences being merely superficial, and moreover these Semites
are virtually as savage as the Tibetan heathens and the African cannibals. Ignace, from the account given, seems
oblivious of the blunder he has made, while Schwob hopes that his friend can
see the difference between one kind of a Jew and another, and Daudet takes the
whole confrontation as a joke played by Jews on themselves.
We
shall see, too, when not only reading closely, but contextualizing the
description of the occasion, that the structure of Daudet’s memoires, flawed as
they are with his own inaccuracies of detail and his misunderstandings of
Jewish characters, their sensibilities and their wit, are foreshadowed in the
structures of a joke, the Witz that
Freud sees in Jokes and their Relation
to the Unconscious[1]
as an alternative royal road to the unconscious: the need for at least two intense
interlocutors who exchange words, and a third party who hears but does not
necessarily comprehend the issues involved, and then the external and more
objective (or at least disinterested) audience (ourselves) who listen and observe
and thus enjoy the embarrassments, a sudden and painful release of repressed
anxieties and urges, and finally in retrospect the reconfiguration of knowledge
and power that results, however temporarily it may be.
Thus,
the caravan with Grenard and Durteuil de Rhins travels further into the
territory of the wild tribes known as Goloks.
A Tom-Boumodu, oú on finit par arrive, sous une pluie battante, après de
longs et épuisants détours, toutes les portes se ferment. Les explorateurs campent la quelque jours,
dans un enclos qu’il fallut faire ouvrir avec beaucoup d’insistance. Deux chevaux disparaissent et les traces
montrent qu’ils ont été voles par un Tibétain.
Pour obliger les habitants du village à les rendre, et pour éviter aussi
d’autres larcins, Dutreuil de Rhins en saisit lui aussi deux, comme gage, aux autochtones. Sans s’en douter, il vient de signer son
arrêt de mort.[2]
At Tom-Bomudu where they finally arrived under a
beating rain after long and exhausting detours, all the gates were shut. The explorers camped several days in an
enclosure which they were forced to open with much insistence. Two horses disappeared and the tracks showed
they were stolen by a Tibetan. In order
to compel the inhabitants of the village to return them and also to avoid any
further larceny, Dutreuil de Rhins himself seized two of theirs as a forfeit. Without a doubt, he had just signed his death
warrant.
Grenard’s
original narrative text given in a 1903 translation provides both more details
and a hint at the tone in the French, and especially the sense of relief felt
by the explorers when they begin their departure from the scene of their
humiliation. In Chapter IV the text
reads as follows:
On the 1st of June 1894, we
set out at the first gleam of dawn, happy to leave this inhospitable place, to
know that the caravan which we were now leading would be our last and to feel
the object so long dreamt-of and longed-for almost within reach of
our hands. Pu Lao Yeh went with us for a very short way and
took leave of us with his excuses at not being able to go further, as he was
detained by a very urgent piece of business. None Fe and the little monk who had come with us as far
as Jyerkundohad deserted at the sight of the reception which his great
brother had given us. We were therefore without a guide, a matter which
gave Dutreuil de Rhins hardly any concern. This time he was wrong.
The tracks of the road were lost in grassy bogs and he missed his way and went
up a valley instead of crossing it. Being thus obliged to make a considerable
circuit, he was unable to camp that same of his servants were met. The tracks of the road were lost in grassy bogs and
he missed his way and went up a valley instead of crossing it. Being thus
obliged to make a considerable circuit, he was unable to camp …and had to halt
half-way. One of the ancients might have believed that a hostile god was
contriving everything to lead him to the spot and time at which his evil
destiny awaited him.[3]
It
seems that their dreams of discovery have now to be abandoned, but at least
that the nightmare that has descended on them when they reached the village of
Tom-Bumoudu is almost over. The duplicity
of the little monk, now called Pu Lao Yeh, and the other two guides, is seen
for what it is; yet this does not upset Dutreuil de Rhin, and a sense of
exasperation energes in what Grenard writes—that it was “a matter of little
concern.” The writer presents himself as
a more cautious traveller, and takes into the present moment of the fatal event
about to explode around them a wisdom that could only come through
hindsight. “This time he was wrong.” The place where they set up camp was
ill-considered. Grenard then fantasizes a cosmic force luring the expedition
into an ambush, leaving them alone and vulnerable.[4]
When
we look at the translation of Grenard’s text, we find the following:
The
little descriptive details of the event revealed in the original text add to
its supposed reality and yet also add to the mystery, the sense of impending
doom that Grenard attempts to build around what happens after his leader,
Durteuil de Rhin makes a tragic error of judgment:
Several of our yaks fell by the road. After seven hours' march, we were
approaching Tumbumdo when rain began to fall, lightly at first and
then extremely heavily. Our clothes were soon soaked through and Dutreuil
de Rhins, who complained of acute pains in the shoulders, hurried on to
find shelter in the village. On our arrival, we found all the doors closed and
no one outside. In answer to our summons, two men appeared and told us that
there was no room in the houses. the valley was very narrow and the few places
where the incline was not too steep seemed to be covered with crops, we asked
them to show us a place where we could pitch our tent. They answered with
careless insolence: "Go down the valley; you’ll find a place there."[5]
Not
only is the scenery filled out with vivid descriptions, but the state of
Dutreuil de Rhins’ mental state is given: he is in physical pain and searches
desperately for a place of shelter. People suddenly appear and give advice,
issue commands, create a sense of dreamlike unreality in the midst of the
unfamiliar environment.
The
narrative continues to build up both the sense of vulnerability and the hints
of supernatural control from beyond the Frenchmen’s perceptions, what in
exasperation Dutreuil de Rhins cries out to be “nonsense.”
We saw a walled enclosure
surrounding a rather large space of empty ground with an unoccupied shed. It
was a cattle-enclosure which was not being used at the time, as the herds had
been sent to the pastures for the summer. "Let us camp in that yard which
you are not using," said Dutreuil de Rhins. "We will pay you.
"The owner is away, replied the owner himself, "and has taken the key
with him." " Nonsense! " retorted Dutreuil de
Rhins, bluntly, losing patience. " I can't remain in the rain like
this.
What
might have been taken as natural and commonsense reality around them—the poor
weather, the empty sheepfold, the gruff responses by the natives—has already
taken on some qualities of exotic and Gothic horror.
So
that the more, in Grenard’s account, the French explorers attempt to make sense
of what is going on around them, rejecting the lack of cooperativeness by the
Tibetan villagers, the more there is a sense of something untoward in the
events are transpiring.
The rain stopped and a few
people came to see us. Dutreuil de Rhins produced the Tibetan letter
which Pu Lao Yeh had given him and asked if anyone knew how
to read. The young scullion offered his services and read the document to those
standing around. It was a summarised translation of our Chinese passport, with
a special and urgent recommendation, in the name of His Excellency the Imperial
Legate, that they should not steal our horses, nor our yaks, nor anything that
was ours. "Di tebo re
(Very good, excellent as the thumb compared with the fingers)," said the
Tibetans, raising their thumbs in the air to mark the liveliness of the
approval
All this smacked a little
of hypocrisy and it would have been prudent not to linger. That same day,
a dorgha came from Jyerkundo on behalf
of Pu Lao Yeh. .[6]
Official
letters are read, documents ordered, texts are translated, so that there is a
new sense of a civilized authority in which this strange little village is
located, not completely cut off from the literate government that exists—even
as the looming presence of monasteries, with the lamas and monks within, which
also exudes a culture that defies the comprehension or even the imagination of
the Western travellers.[7] The
judgment of the Frenchmen that what they see and hear—for they themselves
cannot read the Chinese documents—is “hypocrisy” rings hollow as a piece of
arrogant western cultural prejudice. But
because they cannot understand what is happening to them, they feel an
increasing need to get away from the place where they seem stuck. This is more than embarrassment at being
out-manoeuvred by supposed inferior races, especially in front of the
non-French members of the expedition. But afterwards, it necessitates putting
on the best face for French scientists and other educated European readers.
What happens
next is that Grenard tries to provide a rational explanation after the fact, to
translate foreign terms and describe ordinary bureaucratic activities:
A dorgha is the name in Tibet, as in Turkestan and Mongolia, of
a man who combines the duties of a policeman and a courier and who, in a
general way, is the errand-porter and factotum of an official of any kind. This
one, who was called Tiso, wore his hair shaved, for he was
a Golok by birth. This ex-brigand and son of a brigand had settled
down, had married a Taorongpa wife and, changing his trade with his
country, had become a policeman in the Chinese service; but he wore a hurried and excited
air, spoke quickly, fluently and noisily, was fond of giving advice when he was
not asked for it and boasted readily. He told us that he had been charged by Pu
Lao Yeh to assist us in making our purchases at Labug Gompa ; that he had much
influence in the country; that he was a particular friend of the chief lama's;
that he felt a great sympathy for us; that he would serve us zealously and
hoped that we should reward him with our customary generosity; that, if we
started on the next day, he would have the pleasure of going with us; that for
the moment he was very busy and begged for permission to leave us until the
morrow.
The
names of people and places, the technical terms translated and explicated, and
the connections between distant authorities and local officials seems to
normalize the situation; at the same time, however, when the Frenchman are
informed that the agents are unable to help them and that the situation is not
really under control, the former sense of unease builds up again. They realize they are being fobbed off, and
can get no real support, even if they were to provide the bribes
requested. The situation is impossible
to handle, and again they feel that they have to leave as quickly as
possible. This sense of desperation does
not really enter into Dif’s synopsis and paraphrase. Nor does the impatience Grenard feels with
Dutreuil de Rhins. This human drama,
played out partly in the present tense of the narrative and partly in the
reflective considerations of the edited, published text meant for a scientific
readership and an ordinary French audience, gives us some grasp of the tensions
that could be played on by a casual reader, such as Maître Ignace and his young
interlocutors, Marcel Schwob and Leon Daudet.
These tensions are those obtaining between generations, to be sure,
their attitudes towards the colonial adventure, and also between Jews and
non-Jews.
Back
in the narrative, the surviving French writer reports the supposedly ordinary
events of the day that follows, and yet the tensions between the men,
especially between the two leaders of the expedition comes through, as they
feel themselves trapped by circumstances:
On the following day,
having risen before daybreak, I was giving instructions to prepare for our
departure, when Dutreuil de Rhins came out and, seeing the sky
covered with black and lowering clouds, gave the order to remain. He
told Razoumoff to occupy his day in making the men practise their
shooting, which had been neglected during the journey. I myself made an
excursion up the torrent on whose right bank Tum Bumdo stands. This
is the Deng Chu, a little affluent of the big river, the
DoChu, a glimpse of whose valley was seen from our encampment. I passed a
village whose inhabitants kept fiercely aloof. The few people whom I was able
to accost answered my questions in a curt, dry and evasive manner. When I
returned, I had a vague and confused feeling that things might go badly. Just
then, I saw Razoumofi, knowing that Dutreuil de Rhins could not
see him, indulge in one of his ordinary eccentricities.[9]
Grenard’s
description of the mountain torrent nearby takes on greater significance when
we realize later that this is where the corpse of Dutreuil de Rhins will be
dumped, a palce which we will be able to recognize as one which the writer is
familiar with, something that makes his failure to try to retrieve the body all
the more shocking. He, however, presents
himself as more aware than the other of the dangers surrounding them: the
natives who keep themselves “fiercely aloof” and whose comments are “curt, dry
and evasive.” Hence he returns to the
encampment “vague and confused” and, even more ominously, wary of the Russian
companion whose actions and words Grenard is wary of, while Dutreuil does not
suspect anything untoward.
He was showing off before some Tibetans, ostentatiously directing our
men’s drill movements.
I put an end to this scene, which had the two-fold drawback of making the
Tibetans think that perhaps our men did not know how to handle their
intentions…[that they] were not strictly peaceful and of [a need to prepare
our] weapons.[10]
Not the leader, but his
subordinate Grenard suspects that Razamouff’s actions will provoke the natives
into an attack. His boastful showing off
alerts the villagers to be on guard and to prepare to act before the Europeans
do.
However, as the day seems to
clear, Dutreuil de Rhins becomes more optimistic, to the dismay of Grenard. The
leader makes statements that frighten the other by its casual disregard for
everything ominous around them, even the weather. It does seem, by the written account, that
Dutreuil de Rhins is sleepwalking his way towards his destiny.
The sky seemed to brighten a little
and Dutreuil de Rhins spoke of breaking up camp in the afternoon.
But he changed his mind : " Bah! "
he said. "Why risk wetting everything and spoiling everything for the sake
of going three or four miles .'' It's not worth while." For that matter,
the rain soon began to come down and flooded us in our tent. However, Dutreuil
de Rhins fixed the start for three oclock on the next morning, whatever
the weather might be.
In
a fuller account of the events than given by Dif, with their details implying
much more than the modern historian seems to be aware of, Grenard’s narrative
continues:
We had just fallen asleep, when they came to
tell us that two horses had disappeared. Shortly after nightfall, a heavy
shower had driven our sentry to take shelter for a few minutes in the shed and,
when he came out to go his rounds, the two animals were missing. I was able by
the light of a lantern to follow tracks of horse-shoes, accompanied by the
tracks of Tibetan boots, until where they were lost in the stones on the
ground. The first tracks were those of our horses, for the Tibetan horses are
never shod; and the others were certainly those of a native, for none of our
men wore those boots. Besides, the tracks were all equally fresh and, as those
of the Tibetans were always evenly beside those of our beasts, it was evident
that the latter had been led away by the former. The theft was therefore duly
established and there was no doubt but that it had been committed by a man
acquainted with our habits who had taken his measures in consequence, possibly
by the over-zealous scullion.[11]
In
this version of events, Grenard shows himself far more discerning of what is
happening; he understands how to follow the horse tracks, like a good
detective, and carefully distinguished between the footprints his own men would
leave compared with those of the natives.
He more than Dutreuil de Rhins suspect that the theft is an inside job,
and also that the implications are far more ominous than merely petty
pilfering. Again, it would seem, his
intention to lay the death of the leader and the failure of the expedition
elsewhere than his own shoulders. He
also seeks to present himself as heroic in salvaging what he can after the
attack.
Not
that he blackens completely Dutrueil de Rhins’s reputation, for he must show
him to be a tragic figure who has made an incautious set of decisions and thus
failed to see what was far more plain to himself, Grenard. The villains, after all, are the wily
natives, and they have the numbers and the local knowledge to out-manoeuvre the
Europeans who, at worst, might be accused of naiveté. The two explorers have not fully appreciated
how different these villagers behave:
The
natives, meanwhile, instead of coming to our camp as on the previous day, kept
aloof and sneaked off with cunning speed so soon as they saw us go towards
them. Those who allowed themselves to be taken by surprise were indifferent to
the glamour of rupees and to soft words alike and, in a tone that seemed to
reproach us with their theft, declared that they had no chief or that they did
not know his house. This display of ill-will and insincerity
confirmed Dutreuil de Rhins in his conviction that the villagers were
the culprits and in his determination not to yield. He had good reasons for
this. When he left Jyerkundo,he had no more horses than were absolutely
indispensable and he had no money left with which to buy others. On the other
hand, he feared that, if he did not insist upon obtaining justice, he would
encourage the Tibetans to commit fresh thefts and would run the risk of losing
all his animals. He consulted me and consulted Mohammed Isa, the
interpreter, and we were all of the same opinion. An expedient must be found
which would induce the population to emerge from their silence and the
invisible authorities to show themselves and interfere. Dutreuil de
Rhins thought that the best thing would be to seize two horses belonging
to the Tibetans, not, as Mohammed Isa suggested, by way of restitution,
but as a pledge, while declaring that we would restore them so soon as we
should have come to an understanding with the authorities, whether these
undertook to hunt for and recover our animals or took measures to prevent any
similar act in the future.[12]
On
the surface, the narrative seems to be guided by common sense, and the
Europeans are shown to be attempting to deal fairly with the natives, as well
as to be concerned with finding “an expedient” to get them out of the mess they
have fallen into. Yet they also rely,
perhaps too heavily, upon the advice of their interpreter, Mohammed Isa, or
perhaps too much: for it is Dutreuil de Rhin’s idea “to seize two horses
belonging to the Tibetans,” a plan that, as it turns out, is completely
wrong-headed. Grenard separates himself
from its formulation.
I
repeat that I am belabouring this point because it is important for figuring
out what cultural misunderstandings occurred between the various parties at the
Lockroy’s estate on Gurnsey , particularly when, as we shall see, Marcel Schwob
draws a false analogy between one set of tribes, the Goloks in Tibet, and
another, the Jews in his own experience and his vague awareness of ancient
history. In a sense, the person who writes
the account, after the other is dead and no longer in control of the narrative
text, creates the grounds upon which judgment can be made. Yet early news reports of what happened
during the ambush suggest that there was a school of thought that differed with
Grenard’s version, that Dutreuil de Rhins had not brought the whole tragedy
down on his own head, that circumstances spun out of control beyond the
knowledge and capacity of the European explorers to take adequate precautions
or to effect a proper exit before firing began, and that Grenard had failed to
rescue his leader before he died, retrieve his body, and ensure the integrity
of the papers left behind for more than a month. The San
Francisco Call for 16 June 1895 put together earlier accounts in French
newspapers to let its readers know of the famous explorer in Tibet:
Dangers of
Travel in Thibet
M. Grenart, the
French traveller, has sent to the Turkestan Gazette a graphic account of his
disastrous experiences in Thibet. He
decries the assertion of Swedish traveller . M. Sven Hedin that he deserted his
companion Dutreuil de Rhins, at the moment of danger and left him wounded in
the hands of the Thibetans. He says that
the trouble with arose through Dutreuil de Rhins seizing of their horses in response
to the theft of two of their own.[13]
The
description of the ambush is given with greater details than elsewhere, many of
them missing from the formal published account of the expedition, and designed
here by Grenart both to answer to the slanderous accusation by the Swedish
witness that he was derelict in his duties and to present the alternative in
which he was a victim—and a hero in the occasion.
The fighting began in a village, from the houses and
windows of which the Thibetans kept up a well-sustained line the French
caravan, which was on a narrow road hemmed in by a stream. First a horse was killed, and then M.
Dutreuil de Rhins was wounded in thr abdomen and vomiting blood. M. Grenart declares that he went at once to
his help, and endeavoured top stanch the wound, at the same time giving his men
orders to let the two confiscated horses go at once. He hoped thus to appease the enraged
Thibertans, but they soon resumed their attack, and when the French fire
slackened for want of cartridges, they rushed upon the caravan and put the porters
and others to flight, and carried off M. Grenart, forcing him on with blows
from the butt-ends of their pikes. After
women and children threw stones at him, M. Grenart was taken to the Thibetan
frontier and there released.
While
these additional details are claimed to be drawn from his memory of the
experience in which he fought valiantly against superior numbers, the fate of Dutreuil
de Rhins he knows only from hearsay:
He heard
afterward that his unhappy companion had been carried wounded as he was to the
river and thrown into the water, the Thibetans hurling heavy stones at him
until his body disappeared.
If
we compare this journalistic text, many months following the incident itself
and drawn from previous newspaper reports in which Grenart has begun to shape
the version he wants kto undercut the narratives already beginning to circulate
against his good name, to what he has printed in the Mission scientifique, then it is hard to grant him full veracity,
“graphic” though his words are.
The
more Ferdinand Grenard’s official narrative comes closer to the climactic
attack in which Dureuil de Rhins is fatally wounded, the more he seems caught
in the confusion of the moment and the ambiguity of his attempt to write out
his memories of the occasion:
On the whole, however
irritated he might be, his intentions were exceedingly moderate and he was so
far from expecting a serious fight that he did not even order the few rounds of
ammunition to be taken from the chests containing them.[14]
The initial reaction of Dutreuil de Rhins is
“moderate” and he does not realize the extent of the dangers around and already
within the camp. As a leader, he
certainly is deficient, from the facts provided by Grenard, if facts they are:
The orders given in consequence were executed
at daybreak the next morning, while we were preparing to start. Did the
Tibetans grasp the meaning of our declaration? I cannot say; but the promptness
with which they seized upon this opportunity to attack us seemed to me to show
that they were waiting for it and that they had only been looking for a
pretext, good and soon filled the whole village. A formidable cry
of " Ki ho” or bad. A
clamour arose, grew ever louder…[until]
“Ki ho !" rang through the valley and we saw a few men
run in the direction of the monastery, which was hidden from us by a projecting
portion of the mountain. The shadso, that
is to say the lama charged with the temporal administration of the convent, is
at the same time, as I learnt later, the chief of the whole canton
of Tumbumdo, which numbers seven villages. Hardly had these men
returned, when, as we were beginning to leave the enclosure, I heard a
musket-shot and the sharp whizz of a bullet. It was a quarter-past four in the
morning. Meanwhile, we formed our march according to our usual order :
Dutreuil de Rhins in front, armed with his Winchester rifle; I bringing up
the rear, armed only with my compass.[15]
Here Dutreuil de Rhins, after initial hesitations
and confusions, seems to take charge, and Winchetser in his arms, bravely leads
his men out of their enclosure, while Grenard, takes up the rear position,
almost comically possessed only with his compass rather than a weapon. Yet all around them, still not fully realized
by anyone until much later when it is too late, the natives have them in their
sights.
At this point Grenard gives the geography of the
village and thus the strategic advantage the local tribesmen have over the
Europeans:
The
village is situated on an eminence in the angle formed by the confluence of the
Deng Chu with the torrent which we had come down on our way
from Jyerkundo. The road retreats a little, describing a small curve
in order to cross this torrent and to pass along the side of the mountain on the
right Dg Chu.The houses are similar to all those in Tibet, with thick
walls, narrow embrasures and bank on their flat roofs with parapets.
These topographical features
should have been noted before and taken into account, if not by the leader of
the expedition then at least by his second in command, his compass indicating
the role he played on the trip as recorder of events, map-maker and illustrator
of interesting sights.
[1] Der Witz und seine
Beziehung zum Unbewußten (1905; yet not translated into English
until 1960). Though he does
not say so explicitly, almost all the examples in the book are Jewish jokes;
and so while not a universal theory of wit and humour, a good gauge of what
makes Jews laugh about themselves, their fears of anti-Semitic ridicule, and
the defensive strategies they put-together to anticipate and preclude
humiliations and social shaming. His
raises the immediate question here of how much Schwob and Ignace are colluding
at the expense of Daudet. The other
question of not whether there is a Jewish Witzenschaft
involved in the encounters and their written recollections, hut how much posturing
and showing off of a different kind there may be between the French explorers
and the Tibetans is part of their strategies to intimidate the other and ward
off unwanted attacks can be seen in this account after the fact and needed to
remove blame for the sake of personal honour, diplomatic justification, and
excusing various blunders by both leaders and loose-cannons among the secondary
players.
[2] Dif, “Les voyages de Dutreuil de Rhins et
Grenard”.
[3] Grenard, Tibet,
p. 150
[4] Feldman, Introduction to The Jewish Writings of Hannah Arendt: “Precisely because they were
neither part of class society nor the state’s politically active governing
clique, the Jews were oblivious to the increasing tension between state and
society, at the same time that they were driven toward the center of the
conflict because they stood between the two as part of neither. Politically naive enough to believe that
their true lack of interest in power would be seen and accepted for what it
was, they were taken completely by surprise when twentieth-century political
antisemitism rose to power on ther basis of charges of a Jewish world
conspiracy” (p. l).
[5] Grenard, Tibet,
p. 151.
[6] Grenard, Tibet,
p. 152.
[7] Feldman, Introduction to The Jewish Writings
of Hannah Arendt: “Although assimilated Jews rarely recognizes the fact, since
within this international society their Jewish identity could effectively be
lost, it was precisely those attributes—‘kindness, freedom from prejudice,
sensitiveness to injustice,’ ‘the “Jewish heart,” humanity, humor,
disinterested intelligence’ and ‘fraternity’—which were the privileges of the
Jews as a pariah people that produced this peculiar kind of greatness. These gifts derived from ‘the great privilege
of being unburdened by care for the world.’
It is a privilege dearly bought, however, for the price is ‘real
worldlessness. And worldlessness, alas,
is always a form of barbarism’” (p. li).
The cited lines are from various of Arendt’s books and essays.
[8] Grenard, Tibet,p.
153.
[9] Grenard, Tibet,
p. 154.
[10] Grenard, Tibet,
pp. 154-155. The English text is somewhat mangled at this point.
[11] Grenard, Tibet,
p. 155.
[12] Grenant, Tibet,
p. 159
[13] San Francisco Call 75:16 (16 June 1895) available online from
the California
Digital Newspaper Calendar at
http://cdnc.ucr.edu/cgi-nin/cdnc?a=d&d=SFC18950616.2.214
[14] Grenant, Tibet,
p. 160.
[15] Grenard, Tibet,
pp. 161-162.
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