CHAPTER XXV

A FINAL REFLECTION

“A strange force” or “the designs of bureaucrats,” p. 430. No deliberate

_intention_ to conquer India, p. 432. Impelled to intervene in Tibet, p.

433. Probability of some force impelling us on, p. 434. Reality of an

inherent impulse, p. 435. Its direction towards harmony, p. 436. Hence

disorder invites intervention, p. 436. Our intellects should be used to

give impulse definite effect, p. 438.

APPENDIX

Anglo-Chinese Convention, 1890; Trade Regulations, 1893; Anglo-Tibetan

Convention, 1904; Anglo-Chinese Convention, 1906; Anglo-Russian

Convention, 1907.

INDEX (p. 447).

------------------

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TO FACE PAGE

THE DALAI LAMA _Frontispiece_

(_Reproduced by permission of the “Sphere.”_)

MR. BOGLE 8

SIKKIM SCENERY 105

MISSION CAMP, KHAMBA JONG 116

THE SHIGATSE ABBOT 128

THE PRIME MINISTER OF NEPAL 134

COLUMN CROSSING THE TANG-LA, JANUARY, 1904 160

CHUMALHARI 162

MOUNTED INFANTRY 169

THE START FROM TUNA FOR GURU 173

SEPOYS “SHOULDERING” TIBETANS FROM POSITION: GURU, 176

MARCH, 1904

THE TONGSA PENLOP (NOW MAHARAJA OF BHUTAN) 204

GYANTSE JONG 216

CAMP NEAR KARO-LA 224

BERTHON BOATS ON BRAHMAPUTRA 234

TA LAMA AND HIS SECRETARY 242

THE GATE OF LHASA 250

THE DALAI LAMA 256

(_Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of the “Daily Graphic.”_)

THE POTALA, LHASA 265

MISSION QUARTERS, LHASA 267

THE COUNCIL 268

THE TI RIMPOCHE 273

THE CHUMBI VALLEY 297

SIGNING THE TREATY 304

SEALS AFFIXED TO TREATY 306

THE SERA MONASTERY 310

------------------

MAPS

1. THE CHINESE EMPIRE, SHOWING THE RELATIVE POSITION OF }

TIBET TO CHINA PROPER, INDIA, AND RUSSIA

} _At end_

2. PART OF TIBET, SHOWING THE ROUTE FOLLOWED BY THE MISSION }

TO LHASA

------------------

INDIA AND TIBET

INTRODUCTION

This book is an account of our relations with Tibet, but many still

wonder why we need have any such relations at all. The country lies on

the far side of the Himalayas, the greatest range of snowy mountains in

the world. Why, then, should we trouble ourselves about what goes on

there? Why do we want to interfere with the Tibetans? Why not leave them

alone? These are very reasonable and pertinent questions, and such as

naturally spring to the mind of even the least intelligent of

Englishmen. Obviously, therefore, they must have sprung to the minds of

responsible British statesmen before they ever sanctioned intervention.

The sedate gentlemen who compose the Government of India are not

renowned for being carried away by bursts of excitement or enthusiasm,

nor are they remarkable for impulsive, thoughtless action. They have

spent their lives in the dull routine of official grind, and by the time

they attain a seat in the Viceregal Council they are, if anything, too

free from emotional impulses. Certainly, the initiation of anything

forward and interfering was as little to be expected from them as from

the most rigorous anti-Imperialist. The head of the Government of India

at the time of the Tibet Mission was, it is true, a man of less mature

official experience, but he happened to be a man who had studied Asiatic

policy in nearly every part of Asia, besides having been Under-Secretary

for Foreign Affairs; and even supposing he had been the most impulsive

and irresponsible of Viceroys, he could take no action without gaining

the assent of the majority of his colleagues in India, and without

convincing the Secretary of State in England. India is not governed by

the Viceroy alone, but by the Viceroy in Council. On such a question as

the despatch of a mission to Tibet, the Viceroy would not be able to act

without the concurrence of three out of his six councillors, and without

the approval of the Secretary of State, who, in his turn, as expenditure

is incurred, would have to gain the support of his Council of tried and

experienced Indian administrators and soldiers, besides the approval of

the whole Cabinet.

It is, then, a very fair presumption at the outset that if all these

various authorities had satisfied themselves that action in Tibet was

necessary, there probably was some reasonable ground for interference.

What was it that influenced these sedate authorities, alike in India and

in England, to depart from the natural course of leaving the Tibetans

alone, to behave or misbehave themselves as they liked? What was it that

persuaded these gentlemen that action, and not inaction, intervention,

and not _laissez-faire_, were required, and that we could no longer

leave this remote State on the far side of the mighty Himalayas severely

alone? There must have been some strong reason, for it was not merely a

matter of permitting an adventurous explorer to try and reach the

“forbidden city.” After thirty years of correspondence what was

eventually sanctioned was the despatch of a mission with an escort

strong enough to break down all opposition. What was the reason?

The answer to this I will eventually give. But to make that answer clear

we must view the matter from a long perspective, and trace its gradual

evolution from the original beginnings. And, at the start, I shall have

to emphasize the point that there has always been intercourse of some

kind between Tibet and India, for Tibet is not an island in mid-ocean.

It is in the heart of a continent surrounded by other countries. That it

is a mysterious, secluded country in the remote hinterland of the

Himalayas most people are vaguely aware. But that it is contiguous for

nearly a thousand miles with the British Empire, from Kashmir to Burma,

few have properly realized. Still less have they appreciated that this

contact between the countries means intercourse of some kind between the

peoples inhabiting them, even though it has to be over a snowy range.

The Tibetans drew their religion from India. From time immemorial they

have been accustomed to visit the sacred shrines of India. Tibetan

traders have come down to Bengal, Kashmiri and Indian traders have gone

to Tibet. Tibetan shepherds have brought their flocks to the pastures on

the Indian side of the range in some parts. In other parts the shepherds

from the Indian side have taken their sheep and goats to the plateaux of

Tibet. Sometimes the Tibetans or their vassals have raided to valleys

and plains of India, sometimes Indian feudatories have raided into

Tibet. At other times, again, the intercourse has been of a more pacific

kind, and intermarriages between the bordering peoples and interchanges

of presents have taken place. In a multitude of ways there has ever been

intercourse between Tibet and India. Tibet has never been really

isolated. And, as I shall in due course show, the Mission to Lhasa of

1904, was merely the culmination of a long series of efforts to

regularize and humanize that intercourse, and put the relationship which

must necessarily subsist between India and Tibet upon a business-like

and permanently satisfactory footing.

CHAPTER I

BOGLE’S MISSION, 1774

It is an interesting reflection for those to make who think that we must

necessarily have been the aggressive party, that the far-distant primary

cause of all our attempts at intercourse with the Tibetans was an act of

aggression, not on our part, not on the part of an ambitious Pro-consul,

or some headstrong frontier officer, but of the Bhutanese, neighbours,

and then vassals, of the Tibetans, who nearly a century and a half ago

committed the first act—an act of aggression—which brought us into

relationship with the Tibetans. In the year 1772 they descended into the

plains of Bengal and overran Kuch Behar, carried off the Raja as a

prisoner, seized his country, and offered such a menace to the British

province of Bengal, now only separated from them by a small stream, that

when the people of Kuch Behar asked the British Governor for help, he

granted their request, and resolved to drive the mountaineers back into

their fastnesses. Success attended his efforts, though, as usual, at

much sacrifice. We learn that our troops were decimated with disease,

and that the malaria proved fatal to Captain Jones, the commander, and

many other officers. “One can hardly breathe,” says Bogle, who passed

through the country two years later—“frogs, watery insects, and dank

air.” And those who have been over that same country since, and seen, if

only from a railway train, those deadly swamps, who have felt that

suffocating, poisonous atmosphere arising from them, and who have

experienced that ghastly, depressing enervation which saps all manhood

and all life out of one, can well imagine what those early pioneers must

have suffered.

Fortunately there was at the head of affairs the greatest, though the

most maligned, of all the Governors-General of India, who was able to

turn to profit the advantages accruing from the sacrifices which had

been made. Fortunately, too, in those days a Governor-General still had

some power and initiative left, and was able, without interminable

delays, debates, correspondence, and international considerings, to act

decisively and strongly before the psychological moment had passed.

Warren Hastings resisted the aggression of the Bhutanese, and drove them

back from the plains of Bengal into their own mountains; but when the

Tashi Lama of Tibet interceded on their behalf, he at once not only

acceded, but went further, and made a deliberate effort to come into

permanent relationship with both the Bhutanese and Tibetans. Nor did he

think he would gain lasting results by any fitful effort. He knew well

that to achieve anything effort must be long, must be continuous, and

must be persistent, and that the results would be small at first, but,

accumulating in the long process of years, would eventually amount to

what was of value.

The Bhutanese, I have said, when they found themselves being sorely

punished for their aggression, appealed to the Tashi Lama of Tibet to

intercede for them with the Governor of Bengal; and the Tashi Lama, who

was then acting as Regent of Tibet during the infancy of the Dalai Lama,

wrote to Warren Hastings a very remarkable letter, which is quoted both

by Turner and Markham, and which is especially noteworthy as marking

that the intercourse between us and the Tibetans was _started_ by the

Tibetans. The Tibetans have stated on many a subsequent occasion to the

Government of India, and on innumerable occasions to myself, that they

are not permitted to have intercourse with us. But _originally_, and

when they wanted a favour from us, the intercourse was started by

themselves, and in a very reasonable, dignified, and neighbourly manner.

The Tashi Lama wrote to Warren Hastings, after various compliments:

"Neither to molest nor to persecute is my aim.... But in justice and

humanity I am informed you far surpass ... I have been repeatedly

informed that you have been engaged in hostilities against the Deb

Judhur, to which, it is said, the Deb’s own criminal conduct in

committing ravages and other outrages on your frontier has given rise.

As he is of a rude and ignorant race (past times are not destitute of

instances of the like misconduct which his own avarice tempted him to

commit), it is not unlikely that he has now renewed those instances, and

the ravages and plunder which he committed on the skirts of the Bengal

and Behar provinces have given you provocation to send your avenging

army against him. However, his party has been defeated, many of his

people have been killed, three forts have been taken from him, he has

met with the punishment he deserved, and it is evident as the sun that

your army has been victorious, and that, if you had been desirous of it,

you might in the space of two days have entirely extirpated him, for he

had no power to resist your efforts. But I now take upon me to be his

mediator, and to represent to you that, as the said Deb Raja is

dependent upon the Dalai Lama ... should you persist in offering further

molestation to the Deb Raja’s country, it will irritate both the Lama

and all his subjects against you. Therefore, from a regard to our

religion and customs, I request you will cease all hostilities against

him, and in doing this you will confer the greatest favour and

friendship upon me. I have reprimanded the Deb for his past conduct, and

I have admonished him to desist from his evil practices in future, and

to be submissive to you in all matters. I am persuaded that he will

conform to the advice which I have given him, and it will be necessary

that you treat him with compassion and clemency. As for my part, I am

but a Fakir, and it is the custom of my Sect, with the rosary in our

hands, to pray for the welfare of mankind and for the peace and

happiness of the inhabitants of this country; and I do now, with my head

uncovered, entreat that you may cease all hostilities against the Deb in

future."

On receipt of this letter, Warren Hastings laid it before the Board at

Calcutta, and informed them that, in reply, he had written to the Tashi

Lama, proposing a general treaty of amity and commerce between Bengal

and Tibet. The letter of the Lama, he said, had invited us to

friendship, and the final arrangement of the disputes on the frontier

had rendered the country accessible, without danger either to the

persons or effects of travellers. He had, therefore, written for and

obtained a passport for a European to proceed to Tibet for the

negotiation of the treaty, and he now purposed sending Mr. Bogle, a

servant of the Company, well known for his intelligence, assiduity, and

exactness in affairs, as well as for the “coolness and moderation of

temper which he seems to possess in an eminent degree.” Warren Hastings,

with great wisdom and knowledge of Asiatic affairs, adds that he “is far

from being sanguine in his hopes of success, but the present occasion

appears too favourable for the attempt to be neglected.”

This latter is precisely the point which we who have dealt with Asiatics

can appreciate so well—taking the opportunity, striking while the iron

is hot, not letting the chance go by, knowing our mind, knowing what we

want, and acting decisively when the exact occasion arises. It is hard

to do nowadays, with the Provincial Government so subordinate to the

Government of India, with the Government of India so governed by the

Secretary of State, with Cabinet Ministers telling us that the House of

Commons are their masters, and members of the House of Commons saying

they are the mouthpieces of their constituents. Nevertheless, the

advantages of such a method of conducting affairs must not be forgotten.

Decision and rapidity of action are often important factors in the

conduct of Asiatic affairs, and may save more trouble than is saved by

caution and long deliberation.

Warren Hastings’ policy was, then, not to sit still within his borders,

supremely indifferent to what occurred on the other side, and intent

upon respecting not merely the independence but also the isolation of

his neighbours. It was a forward policy, and combined in a noteworthy

manner alertness and deliberation, rapidity and persistency,

assertiveness and receptivity. He sought to secure his borders by at

once striking when danger threatened, but also by taking infinite pains

over long periods of time to promote ordinary neighbourly intercourse

with those on the other side. Both qualities are necessary. Spasmodic

action unaccompanied by steady, continuous efforts at conciliation

produces no less bad results than does plodding conciliation never

accompanied by action. It was because Warren Hastings possessed this

capacity for instantly seizing an opportunity, because he could and

would without hesitation or fear use severity where severity alone would

secure enduring harmony, but would yet persistently and with infinite

tact, sagacity, and real good-heartedness work for humane and

neighbourly relationship with adjoining peoples, that he must be

considered the greatest of all the great Governors-General of India.

* * * * *

But to be successful a policy must be embodied in a fitting personality.

And to appreciate Warren Hastings’ Tibetan policy we must know something

of the agent he chose to carry it into effect. What was the character of

the man who was to lead the first Mission ever sent to Tibet? We learn

from Markham that he was born in 1746, and had at first been brought up

in a business office; but on proceeding to India had been given a post

in the Revenue Department. His letters to his father and sisters show

him to have been a man of the strongest home feelings, and his

conversations with the Tibetans indicate that he was a man of high

honour and strict rectitude. Warren Hastings himself not only had a high

opinion of his abilities and official aptitude, but also entertained for

him a warm personal friendship.

[Illustration: MR. BOGLE]

The youth of Warren Hastings’ agent is the first point to note: he was

only twenty-eight. Nowadays we use men who are much too old. It is when

men are young, when they are still crammed full of energy, when their

faculties are alert, that they are most useful and effective. I often

doubt whether the experience of maturer age possesses all the advantages

which are commonly attributed to it, and whether young men act more

rashly or irresponsibly than old men. The former have their whole

careers before them, and their reputations to make. They are no more

likely, therefore, to act rashly than “old men in a hurry.” Warren

Hastings was therefore wise, in my opinion, to choose a young man, and

he was equally wise to choose an agent of good breeding and with great

natural kindliness of disposition. Asiatics do not mind quickness or

hotness of temper, or severity of manner, as long as they can feel that

at bottom the man they have to do with has a good, warm, generous heart.

He need not wear it on his sleeve, but they will know right enough

whether he possesses one or not. And that Warren Hastings’ agent had

such a heart his home correspondence, his friendship with Hastings

himself, and his eventual dealings with the Tibetans amply testify.

* * * * *

Having determined his policy and selected his agent, Warren Hastings

gave him the following instructions,[1] dated May 13, 1774: "I desire

you will proceed to Lhasa.... The design of your mission is to open a

mutual and equal communication of trade between the inhabitants of

Bhutan [Tibet] and Bengal, and you will be guided by your own judgment

in using such means of negotiation as may be most likely to effect this

purpose. You will take with you samples, for a trial of such articles of

commerce as may be sent from this country.... And you will diligently

inform yourself of the manufactures, productions, goods, introduced by

the intercourse with other countries, which are to be procured in

Bhutan.... The following will be also proper objects of your inquiry:

the nature of the roads between the borders of Bengal and Lhasa, and of

the country lying between; the communications between Lhasa and the

neighbouring countries, their government, revenue, and manners.... The

period of your stay must be left to your discretion. I wish you to

remain a sufficient time to fulfil the purposes of your deputation, and

obtain a complete knowledge of the country and the points referred to

your inquiry. If you shall judge that a residence may be usefully

established at Lhasa without putting the Company to any expense, but

such as may be repaid by the advantages which may be hereafter derived

from it, you will take the earliest opportunity to advise me of it; and

if you should find it necessary to come away before you receive my

orders upon it, you may leave such persons as you shall think fit to

remain as your agents till a proper resident can be appointed.... You

will draw on me for your charges, and your drafts shall be regularly

answered. To these I can fix no limitation, but empower you to act

according to your discretion, knowing that I need not recommend to you a

strict frugality and economy where the good of the service on which you

are commissioned shall not require a deviation from these rules."

Did ever an agent despatched on an important mission receive more

satisfactory instructions? The object clearly defined, and the fullest

discretion left to him as to the manner of carrying it out. Hastings,

having selected the fittest agent to carry out his purpose, leaves

everything to his judgment. Whatever would most effectively carry out

the main purpose, that the agent was at perfect liberty to do, and time

and money were freely at his disposal. “I want the thing done,” says

Warren Hastings in effect, “and all you require to get it done you shall

have.”

The only equally good instructions I have personally seen issued to an

agent were given by Cecil Rhodes in Rhodesia. I travelled up to Fort

Salisbury with Major Forbes, whom Rhodes had summoned from a place two

months’ journey distant to receive instructions, for he did not believe

in letters, but only in personal communication. After dinner Rhodes

questioned Forbes most minutely as to his requirements, as to the

condition of things, as to the difficulties which were likely to be

encountered, and as to his ideas on how those difficulties should be

overcome. He said he wanted to know now what Forbes required in order to

accomplish the object in view, because he did not wish to see him coming

back later on, saying he could have carried it out if only he had had

this, that, or the other. Let him therefore say now whatever he required

to insure success. All that he asked, and more than he asked, Rhodes

gave him, and then despatched him, saying, “Now, I don’t want to hear of

you again till I get a telegram saying your job is done.”

These are, of course, ideal methods of conveying instructions to an

agent, which it is not always possible for a high official to give. Lord

Curzon would, I know, have liked to give similar instructions to me,

and, as far as providing money, staff, military support, etc., he did.

But, with the closer interconnection of public affairs, public business

is now so complicated that it is not, I suppose, possible to leave to an

agent the same amount of discretion that Warren Hastings did to Bogle.

Still, great results in many fields, and, what is more, great men, have

been produced by the use of Warren Hastings’ method of selecting the

fittest agent, and then leaving everything in his hands. I do not see

that any better results have been obtained by utilizing human agents as

mere telephones. If the conduct of affairs has become complicated, that

does not appear to be any reason in itself for abandoning the method. It

appears only a reason for principals and agents rising to the higher

occasion while still pursuing the old successful method. Ease of

communication has brought nations more closely together and complicated

affairs, but it has also made possible readier personal communication

between principal and agent. And therefore there is need not so much for

curtailing the discretion of the agent while he is at work as for

utilizing the greater facility for personal intercourse now possible. In

conversation the agent will be able to impress his principals with

whatever local and personal difficulties he has to contend with, and the

means required for carrying out their object, and they will be able to

impress him with the limits outside which it is impossible to allow him

to act. It is a clear certainty that the present tendency to

concentrate, not merely control, but also direction, in London, cannot

go on for ever. An Empire like ours, immense in size and immensely

complicated, cannot be managed in detail from headquarters. The time

must come when the House of Commons and the constituencies, overburdened

with the great affairs with which they have to deal, will, by the sheer

force and weight of circumstances, see the advantages of leaving more to

the men on the spot. They will probably insist on agents being more

carefully selected. They will require them to keep in much closer

personal contact with headquarters. They will expect, too, that

politicians who control should already be personally acquainted, or make

themselves personally acquainted, with the countries they control. But

with these conditions fulfilled they will, it may be hoped, be able to

leave more to the men on the spot, removing them relentlessly if they

act wrongly, but while they are acting, leaving them to act in their own

way.

Bogle, with these free instructions and this ample support, set out from

Calcutta in the middle of May, 1774, that is, less than two months from

the date of the despatch of the Tashi Lama’s letter from Shigatse, so

that Warren Hastings, if he had left ample leisure to his agent to carry

out his purpose, had himself acted with the utmost promptitude, even in

so important a matter as sending a mission to Lhasa with the possibility

of establishing there a permanent resident. Rapidity of communication

has not resulted in the rapidity of the transaction of public affairs,

and the consideration of despatching a mission to Lhasa nowadays takes

as many years as weeks were occupied in the days of Warren Hastings.

* * * * *

During his passage through Bhutan, Bogle found many obstacles placed in

his way; but he eventually left the capital in the middle of October,

and on the 23rd of that month reached Phari, at the head of the Chumbi

Valley, up which we marched to Lhasa 130 years later. Here he was

received by two Lhasa officers, and farther on, at Gyantse, where the

Mission of 1904 was attacked and besieged for nearly two months, he was

entertained by a priest, “an elderly man of polite and pleasant

manners,” who sat with him most of the afternoon, and drank “above

twenty cups of tea.” Crowds of people appear to have assembled to look

at him, but beyond the irksomeness of these attentions he suffered no

inconvenience or opposition.

On November 8, 1774, he arrived at the place near Shigatse where the

Tashi Lama was at the time in residence. The day following he had an

interview with the Lama, and delivered to him a letter and a necklace of

pearls from Warren Hastings. This was the first official interview which

had ever taken place between a British officer and a Tibetan, and as

such is particularly worthy of note.

The Tashi Lama received Bogle[2] “with a very courteous and smiling

countenance,” seated him near him on a high stool covered with a carpet,

and spoke to him in Hindustani, of which he had “a moderate knowledge.”

After inquiring about Warren Hastings’ health, and Bogle’s journey

through Bhutan, he introduced the subject of the war in Behar—that is,

the Bhutanese invasion of the plains of Bengal. “I always,” said the

Lama, “disapproved of Deb Judhur (the Bhutanese Chief) seizing the Behar

Raja (the Raja of Kuch Behar) and going to war with the Fringies (the

English); but the Deb considered himself as powerful in arms, and would

not listen to my advice. After he was defeated, I wrote to the Governor,

who, in ceasing hostilities against the Bhutanese, in consequence of my

application, and restoring to them their country, has made me very

happy, and has done a very pious action. My servants who went to

Calcutta were only little men, and the kind reception they had from the

Governor I consider as another mark of friendship.”

Bogle explained that Kuch Behar was separated from the British province

of Bengal only by a rivulet; that the Bhutanese from time immemorial had

confined themselves to their mountains, and when they visited the low

countries it was in an amicable manner, and in order to trade; that when

many thousand armed men issued at once from their forests, carried off

the Raja of Kuch Behar as prisoner, and seized his country, the Company

very justly became alarmed, and concluded that the Bhutanese, encouraged

by their successes in Kuch Behar to-day, and undeterred by so slight a

boundary as a small stream, might invade the British provinces

to-morrow. Bogle continued that Warren Hastings, on the people of Kuch

Behar applying to him for assistance, immediately despatched a battalion

of sepoys to repel the invaders, but was extremely glad, on receipt of

the Tashi Lama’s letter, to suspend hostilities and subsequently to

conclude a peace with the Bhutanese and restore them their country. In

conclusion, he said that Warren Hastings, being happy to cultivate the

friendship of a man whose fame was so well known, and whose character

was held in veneration by so many nations, had sent him to the Lama’s

presence with the letter and tokens of friendship which he had laid

before him.

The Lama said that the Deb Judhur did not manage his country properly,

and had been turned out. Bogle replied that the English had no concern

with his expulsion; it was brought about by his own people: the Company

only wished the Bhutanese to continue in their own country, and not to

encroach upon Bengal, or raise disturbances upon its frontier. “The

Governor,” said the Lama, “had reason for going to war, but, as I am

averse from bloodshed, and the Bhutanese are my vassals, I am glad it is

brought to a conclusion.”

* * * * *

The point, then, that it was an act of aggression on the part of a

vassal of the Tibetans which was the initial cause of our relationship

with the Tibetans; that that act was considered unjustifiable by the

then ruler of Tibet, and that our own action was approved of and

appreciated by him, is established by this conversation. Except for the

unjustifiable aggression of the Bhutanese upon our neighbours, we would

never have been brought into conflict with these vassals of Tibet; and

but for the intervention of the Tibetan Regent on their behalf, we

should not then have thought of any relationship with the Tibetans. The

initiation of our intercourse did not rest with us. We were not the

interferers. It was the Tibetans themselves who made the first move.

This much is clear from the Tashi Lama’s conversation.

* * * * *

We may well pause for a moment to consider the man who had thus first

communicated with us. It so happens that he was the most remarkable man

Tibet has produced in the last century and a half, and one cannot help

thinking that if he had lived longer, and Warren Hastings had remained

longer in India, these two able and eminently sensible and conciliatory

men would have come to some amicable and neighbourly agreement by which

the interrelations of their respective countries might have been

peacefully conducted from that time till now.

Bogle says of him that he was about forty years of age, that his

disposition was open, candid, and generous, and that the expression of

his countenance was smiling and good-humoured. He was extremely merry

and entertaining in conversation, and told a pleasant story with a great

deal of humour and action. “I endeavoured,” says Bogle, “to find out, in

his character, those defects which are inseparable from humanity, but he

is so universally beloved that I had no success, and not a man could

find it in his heart to speak ill of him.”

The Lama treated Bogle in the most intimate manner. He would walk the

room with the strange Englishman, explain to him the pictures, and make

remarks upon the colour of his eyes. “For, although,” says Bogle,

“venerated as God’s vicegerent through all the eastern countries of

Asia, endowed with a portion of omniscience, and with many other Divine

attributes, he throws aside, in conversation, all the awful part of his

character, accommodates himself to the weakness of mortals, endeavours

to make himself loved rather than feared, and behaves with the greatest

affability to everybody, particularly to strangers.”

* * * * *

Continuing his conversation on the subject of Behar, the Lama, in

subsequent interviews, said that many people had advised him against

receiving an Englishman. "I had heard also,"[3] he said, “much of the

power of the Fringies: that the Company was like a great King, and fond

of war and conquest; and as my business and that of my people is to pray

to God, I was afraid to admit any Fringies into the country. But I have

since learned that the Fringies are a fair and a just people.” To this

Bogle replied that the Governor was, above all things, desirous of

obtaining his friendship and favour, as the character of the English and

their good or bad name depended greatly upon his judgment. In return the

Lama assured Bogle that his heart was open and well disposed towards the

English, and that he wished to have a place on the banks of the Ganges

to which he might send his people to pray, and that he intended to write

to Warren Hastings about it. This he did, after Bogle’s return, and a

piece of land was given him on the banks of the Hooghly branch of the

Ganges, opposite Calcutta, and a house and temple were constructed on it

by Bogle for the Lama.

The conversation now turned to the question of trade. The Tashi Lama

said that, owing to the recent wars in Nepal and Bhutan, trade between

Bengal and Tibet was not flourishing, but that, as for himself, he gave

encouragement to merchants, and in Tibet they were free and secure. He

enumerated the different articles which went from Tibet to Bengal—"gold,

musk, cow-tails (yak-tails), and coarse woollen clothes"—but he said the

Tibetans were afraid to go to Bengal on account of the heat. In the

previous year he had sent four people to worship at Benares, but three

had died. In former times great numbers used to resort to Hindustan. The

Lamas had temples in Benares, Gaya, and several other places; their

priests used to travel thither to study the sacred books and the

religion of the Hindus, and after remaining there ten, twenty, or thirty

years, return to Tibet and communicate their knowledge to their

countrymen; but since the Mohammedan conquest of India the inhabitants

of Tibet had had little connection with Bengal or the southern

countries.

Bogle assured him that times were now altered, that under the Company in

Bengal—and it must be remembered that when he was speaking our rule did

not extend beyond Bengal on that side of India—every person’s property

was secure, and everyone was at liberty to follow his own religion.

The Lama said he was informed that under the Fringies the country was

very quiet, and that he would be ashamed if Bogle were to return with a

fruitless errand. He would therefore consult his officers and some men

from Lhasa, as well as some of the chief merchants, and after informing

them of the Governor’s desire to encourage trade, and of the

encouragement and protection which the Company afforded to traders in

Bengal, “discuss the most proper method of carrying it on and extending

it.”

The following day the Lama told Bogle that he “had written to Lhasa on

the subject of opening a free commercial communication between his

country and Bengal.” “But,” says Bogle, “although he spoke with all the

zeal in the world, I confess I did not much like the thoughts of

referring my business to Lhasa, where I was not present, where I was

unacquainted, and where I had reason to think the Ministers had

entertained no favourable idea of me and my commission.”

* * * * *

Later on, at the request of the Tashi Lama, two deputies from Lhasa came

to visit Bogle. They said the English had shown great favour to the Lama

and to them by making peace with the Bhutanese and restoring their

country. Bogle replied that the English were far from being of that

quarrelsome nature which some evil-minded persons represented them to

be, and wished not for extent of territories. They were entrusted with

the management of Bengal, and only wished it should remain in

tranquillity. The war with the Bhutanese was of their own seeking. The

deputies might judge whether the Company had not cause for alarm when

eight or ten thousand Bhutanese, who had formerly confined themselves to

their mountains, poured into the low country, seized the Raja of Kuch

Behar, took possession of his territories, and carried their arms to the

borders of Bengal. The deputies could judge for themselves whether the

Company were not in the right in opposing them. In the course of the war

some of the Bhutan territory was taken from them, but was immediately

restored at the request of the Tashi Lama, and so far from desiring

conquest, the boundaries of Bengal remained the same as formerly.

The Lhasa deputies said the Lama had written to Lhasa about trading, but

that the Tibetans were afraid of the heat, and proceeded, therefore,

only as far as Phari, where the Bhutanese brought the commodities of

Bengal and exchanged them for those of Tibet. This was the ancient

custom, and would certainly be observed.

Bogle stated that besides this there was formerly a very extensive trade

carried on between Tibet and Bengal; Warren Hastings was desirous of

removing existing obstacles, and had sent him to Tibet to represent the

matter to the Tashi Lama, and he trusted that the Lhasa authorities

would agree to so reasonable a proposal. They answered that Gesub

Rimpoche (the Regent at Lhasa) would do everything in his power, but

that he and all the country were subject to the Emperor of China.

* * * * *

“This,” says Bogle, “is a stumbling-block which crosses me in all my

paths.” And in the paths of how many negotiators since has it not stood

as a stumbling-block! The Tibetans are ready to do anything, but they

can do nothing without the permission of the Chinese. The Chinese would

freely open the whole of Tibet, but the Tibetans themselves are so

terribly seclusive. So the same old story goes on year after year, till

centuries are beginning to roll by, and the story is still unfinished.

When in the Audience Hall of the Dalai Lama’s Palace at Lhasa itself I

had obtained the seals of the Dalai Lama, of the Council, of the

National Assembly, and of the three great monasteries, to an agreement,

and had done all this in the presence of the Chinese Resident, I thought

we had at last laid that fiction low for ever. But it seems to be

springing up again in all its old exuberance, and showing still

perennial vitality.

* * * * *

Bogle, at the request of the Tashi Lama, related to him the substance of

his conversation with the Lhasa deputies. The Lama assured him again of

the reasonableness of his proposals in regard to trade, but said that,

in reply to the letter he had written on the subject, he had received a

letter from the Lhasa Regent mentioning his apprehension of giving

umbrage to the Chinese. There were, too, disturbances in Nepal and

Sikkim which rendered this an improper time to settle anything, but in a

year or two he hoped to bring it about. As to the English, the Lhasa

Regent had received such accounts as made him suspicious, “and,” added

the Tashi Lama, “his heart is confined, and he does not see things in

the same view as I do.”

Bogle then hinted at the advisability of the Tibetans coming into some

form of alliance with the English so that the influence of the latter

might be used to restrain the Gurkhas of Nepal from attacking Tibet and

its feudatories. This argument evidently much struck the Lama, who asked

if he might write it to the Lhasa Regent. Bogle told him he might, and

that he had no doubt that Warren Hastings would be ready to employ his

mediation to make the Gurkha Raja desist from his attempts on the

territories subject to Lhasa, and that he had reason to think that from

the Gurkha Raja’s dread of the English it would be effectual. The Lama

said that the Regent’s apprehensions of the English arose not only from

himself, but also from his fear of giving offence to the Chinese, to

whom Tibet was subject. The Regent wished, therefore, to receive an

answer from the Court at Peking.

Bogle contended that Warren Hastings, in his proposals to facilitate

trade, was promoting the advantage of Tibet as well as of Bengal; that

in former times merchants used to come freely into Tibet; that the

Gurkha Raja’s wars and oppressions had prevented their coming for some

years past, and he only prayed the Lama to remove the obstacles which

these had occasioned. To this the Lama replied that he had no doubt of

carrying the point, but that it might require a year or two to do it

effectually.

* * * * *

So we see the well-intentioned Tashi Lama held back by the obstructive

Lhasa authorities; and this was still more evident at Bogle’s next

interview, which was with the Lhasa deputies. They came to pay him a

farewell visit, and in the innocence of his heart he made the very

simple request that they would convey a letter from him to the Lhasa

Regent. Nothing could be more natural than such a request; but, till

recently, one might just as well have asked a Tibetan to touch a red-hot

poker as to carry a letter from an Englishman. The deputies said that if

it contained anything to do with business they could not carry it. “I

confess,” says Bogle, “I was much struck with this answer.” Poor man, he

might well be! And I was equally struck, 130 years later, when I was

formally deputed on a mission to Tibet, with the full consent of the

Chinese suzerain, when Tibetans still refused to take a letter from an

Englishman. It was only when we were in full march to Lhasa, and but a

few miles distant, that they at last consented to so simple a proceeding

as receiving a letter, though now they have changed so completely round,

that this year the Dalai Lama himself, at Calcutta, appealed to the

Viceroy of India “to secure the observance of the _right_ which the

Tibetans had of dealing direct with the British.”

Bogle told the Lhasa deputies that he wished to know the grounds of the

Regent’s suspicions, but they replied “that much conversation was not

the custom of their country,” and wished him a good journey back to

Bengal. Bogle endeavoured to get them to listen to him, as he wished to

introduce the subject of trade, but it was to no purpose.

* * * * *

“This conversation gave me more concern,” he records, “than any I had in

Tibet.” He immediately asked to see the Tashi Lama, and told him “with

some warmth,” as he was “a good deal affected,” that he could not help

being concerned that the Regent should suspect him of coming into his

country to raise disturbances; that God was his witness that he wished

the Regent well, and wished the Lama well, and the country well, and

that a suspicion of treachery and falsehood he could not bear. The Tashi

Lami tried to calm him, and eventually dictated a letter in Tibetan in

Bogle’s name to the Lhasa Regent. This letter contained only one

sentence of pure business. It simply said: “I request, in the name of

the Governor, my master, that you will allow merchants to trade between

this country and Bengal.” Not a very aggressive request to make or a

very great favour to ask, especially as the Tibetans had begun their

intercourse by asking a favour from us. But it was not for a century and

a quarter, and not till we had carried our arms to Lhasa itself, that

that simple request was answered, although all the time the _people_ and

_traders_ of Tibet were only too willing to trade with us.

Why Bogle did not himself go to Lhasa, as he was empowered to do by his

instructions, seems strange. The Tashi Lama said that he himself would

have been quite willing, but that the Lhasa Regent was very averse, and

he dissuaded Bogle, saying that the Regent’s heart was small and

suspicious, and he could not promise that he would be able to procure

the Regent’s consent.

* * * * *

And now the feeling of suspicion was to be increased by an unfortunate

occurrence. The Gurkha Raja of Nepal wrote to both the Tashi Lama and

the Lhasa Regent, announcing that he had subdued certain districts. He

said he did not wish to quarrel with Tibet, but if they had a mind for

war he let them know he was well prepared, and he would desire them to

remember he was a Rajput. He wished to establish factories at places

upon the Tibetan border, where the merchants of Tibet might purchase the

commodities of his country and of Bengal, and he desired the concurrence

of the Tibetans. He also further desired the Tibetans "to have no

connection with Fringies or Moghuls, and not to allow them into the

country, but to follow the ancient custom, which he was resolved

likewise to do." A Fringy had come to him upon some business, and was

now in his country, but he intended to send him back as soon as

possible, and desired the Tibetans to do the same with Bogle.

Thus were Bogle’s difficulties still further increased. And in one

respect, at least, we have advanced since his day; for the Mission to

Lhasa in 1904, instead of being hampered, was warmly supported by the

Nepalese. The Dewan of Nepal wrote strongly to the Lhasa authorities,

urging them to reason, and his agent at Lhasa was of the greatest

assistance to me in my negotiations with the Tibetans.

* * * * *

Besides China and Nepal thus entering into this Tibetan question, there

was also some mention of Russia even so far back as that. The Tashi Lama

had already questioned Bogle about the Empress of Russia. He now told

Bogle that there was a quarrel between the Russians and the Chinese over

some Tartar tribe. The Russians had not yet begun hostilities, but he

imagined they would soon go to war about it. Bogle told him that as the

Russians were engaged in a very heavy war with the Turks—how far back

that other story reaches!—he supposed they would hardly think of

entering into another with the Chinese. He said the Russians were a very

hardy and warlike people, capable of great efforts, and he doubted

whether the Chinese would be able to cope with their troops.

* * * * *

Bogle then had conversations with the Kashmiri traders, who had been

sent to him by the Tashi Lama, and who wanted to be allowed to trade

with Bengal through Bhutan. They stated the difficulties which the

Bhutanese placed in their way, and said that the Chief of Bhutan would

soon remove these if the Company would threaten him with war, as after

the last war he was in great dread of the English. It is a point which

should be specially noted by those who believe that Warren Hastings’

policy was aggressive, that Bogle, in reply to this hint, told the

merchants[4] that he had no power to use such language to the Bhutanese,

and that _whatever he did with the Raja must be by peaceable and

friendly means_. The Company had entered into a treaty of peace with

them, “which, according to the maxim of the English Government, would

... remain for ever inviolate.”

Tibetan merchants also came, at the Tashi Lama’s request, to see Bogle.

They dealt chiefly in tea, some of them to the extent of two or three

lakhs of rupees a year—of the then value of £20,000 to £30,000. They

said the Lama had advised them to send agents to Bengal, but they were

afraid to go into the heat of the plains. They had a tradition that

about eight hundred years ago people of Tibet used to go to Bengal, but

that eight out of ten died before their return. Bogle told them that if

they were afraid of sending their servants thither, the Kashmiri would

supply them with what they wanted. They said that formerly wool,

broadcloth, etc., used to come through Nepal, but since the wars in

Nepal the trade had diminished. They added that people imagined from

gold being produced in Tibet that it was extremely rich, but that this

was not the case, and if extraordinary quantities of gold were sent to

Bengal, the Emperor of China, who was Sovereign of the country, would be

displeased.

At his farewell interview Bogle said that Warren Hastings would send

letters to the Lama by his own servants, upon which the Lama said: "I

wish the Governor will not at present send an Englishman. You know what

difficulties I had about your coming into the country, and how I had to

struggle with the jealousy of the Gesub Rimpoche (the Regent) and the

people at Lhasa. Even now they are uneasy at my having kept you so long.

I could wish, therefore, that the Governor would rather send a Hindu. I

am in hopes my letter to the Regent will have a good effect in removing

his jealousy, and I expect in a year or two that the government of this

country will be in the Dalai Lama’s hands, when I will inform the

Governor, and he may then send an Englishman to me and to the Dalai

Lama."

The Tashi Lama repeated his concern at Bogle’s departure and the

satisfaction he had received in being informed of the customs of Europe.

He spoke all this, in and with a look very different from the studied

compliments of Hindustan. “I never could reconcile myself,” continues

Bogle, “to taking a last leave of anybody; and what from the Lama’s

pleasant and amiable character, what from the many favours and

civilities he had shown me, I could not help being particularly

affected. He observed it, and in order to cheer me mentioned his hopes

of seeing me again.”

Of Bogle’s own warm-hearted and affectionate feelings to the people of

Tibet there can be no question. On the eve of his departure he wrote in

a letter to his sister: “Farewell, ye honest and simple people! May ye

long enjoy the happiness which is denied to more polished nations; and

while they are engaged in the endless pursuits of avarice and ambition,

defended by your barren mountains, may ye continue to live in peace and

contentment, and know no wants but those of nature.”

* * * * *

At the close of Bogle’s Mission we may review its results. He was sent

by Warren Hastings to establish relationship and intercourse of trade

with the Tibetans. How far did he succeed in carrying out that object?

It is sufficiently clear that, as regards personal relationship, he was

eminently successful, and that was about as much as he could have

expected to establish at the start. As we have already seen, Warren

Hastings never expected any very striking result from the first

communication. He wished to lay the _foundation_ for neighbourly

intercourse, and in this much he succeeded. He had had experience enough

of Asiatics in other quarters to be aware that they are very naturally

suspicious of a European Power, then by some apparently irresistible

process gradually expanding over smaller Asiatic peoples. As the

instance of the Gurkha Raja’s letter showed, there are few Asiatic

rulers who, if they have the _power_ to subdue a weaker neighbour, will

not as a perfectly natural course proceed to bring that neighbour under

subjection. This is looked upon by most Asiatics as a quite normal and

inevitable proceeding. Naturally, therefore, the Tibetans would assume

that it would only be a matter of time before the English Governor of

Bengal would attack Tibet. He had the power to subdue the country; he

would therefore subdue it. In the first instance he would, of course,

send up an agent to spy out the land, to see what it was worth, and to

find out the best way into it; and such an agent doubtless Bogle was, in

their opinion. It was inevitable, therefore, that Bogle should be viewed

with suspicion, and that the Tibetans should not, at the first jump off,

throw their country freely open to trade. How much wiser, in their

opinion, would be the views of some shrewd old counsellor who said:

“Keep the English at a distance; don’t let one into our country; stay

behind our mountain barrier and have nothing whatever to do with anyone

beyond it. This is the ‘ancient custom.’ Do not let us depart from it.

Let us be civil to this Bogle now he is here, lest we offend his

powerful master, but for God’s sake let us get rid of him as soon as we

can, and put every polite difficulty we know of in the way of any other

Englishman coming amongst us.”

We can imagine how sound such an opinion would seem to the generality of

the old greybeard’s hearers, and how difficult it would be for

anyone—even the Tashi Lama—to contend against it. And with such a

feeling in existence Bogle could not do more than produce a favourable

personal impression, and put in an argument or two, whenever he had the

opportunity, to show that there were also some _advantages_ in having

relationship with the English, in the hopes that these arguments might

gradually sink into the Tibetan mind, and when the opportunity should

arise, bring forth fruit. And this much he did most effectively in

carrying out the Governor’s policy.

-----

Footnote 1:

Markham, “Mission of Bogle,” p. 6.

Footnote 2:

Markham, p. 135.

Footnote 3:

Markham, p. 137.

Footnote 4:

Markham, p. 162.

-----

------------------

CHAPTER II

TURNER’S MISSION, 1782

Warren Hastings was not content with a single effort to reopen the

commercial and friendly intercourse which in former times had subsisted

between Tibet and India. As he had expected little from the first move,

so he had always intended to work continuously with the same end in

view, hoping to eventually gain that end by repeated efforts over long

periods.

Bogle returned to Calcutta in June, 1775, and in November of the same

year Hastings deputed Dr. Hamilton, who had accompanied him to Tibet, on

a second mission to Bhutan. Hamilton spent some months in Bhutan,

inquiring into and settling certain causes of dispute; and in July,

1777, he was sent on a third mission to Bhutan to congratulate a new Deb

Raja on his succession. Thus, as Markham points out, Warren Hastings, by

keeping up a regular intercourse with the Bhutan rulers, by maintaining

a correspondence with the Tashi Lama, and by means of an annual fair at

Rangpur, prevented the opening made by Bogle from again being closed.

Warren Hastings also intended to send another mission to Tibet itself,

and in 1779 Bogle was appointed Envoy for a second time. But in the

meanwhile the Tashi Lama had decided to undertake a journey to Peking to

visit the Chinese Emperor. Bogle, therefore, was to have been sent to

Peking to meet the Lama there, but, most disastrously for all friendly

intercourse between Tibet and India, the Lama died in Peking in November

1780, and Bogle himself died at Calcutta in April, 1781.

The success of Asiatic affairs depends so much on the influence of

personalities that the death of these two men, who had conceived such a

real respect and affection for one another, was an almost fatal blow to

Warren Hastings’ plans for the improvement of the relationship between

Tibet and India. Nevertheless, he kept steadily on with his deliberate

policy, and watched for some other opportunity of carrying it to

fruition. Persistency of aim and watchfulness for opportunities, making

the most of the occasion offered, and decisiveness of action—these were

always Hastings’ guiding principles. So when, in February, 1782, news

reached Calcutta that the Tashi Lama, in accordance with the Tibetan

ideas of reincarnation, had reappeared in the person of an infant, he

resolved to send another mission to Tibet to congratulate the Regent.

For this duty he selected Captain Samuel Turner, an officer who had

distinguished himself at the Siege of Seringapatam and on a mission to

Tippoo Sultan, and who was then thirty-three years of age.

* * * * *

Turner himself was very favourably received at Shigatse, and at his

first interview informed the Regent that Warren Hastings had an earnest

solicitude to preserve and cultivate the amicable intercourse that had

so happily commenced between them; that this correspondence, in its

earliest stages, had been dictated by the purest motives of humanity,

and had hitherto pointed with unexampled sincerity and steadiness

towards one great object, which constituted the grand business of the

Tashi Lama’s life—peace and universal good; that the Governor-General,

whose attention was always directed towards the same pursuits, was

overwhelmed with anxiety lest the friendship which had been established

between himself and the Regent might undergo a change, and he had

therefore sent a trusted agent to convey his congratulations on the

joyful reappearance in the world of the late Tashi Lama, and to express

the hope that everything that was expected would at length be

effectually accomplished.

To this the Regent replied that the present and the late Tashi Lama were

one and the same, and that there was no manner of difference between

them, only that, as he was yet merely an infant, and his spirit had but

just returned into the world, he was at present incapable of action. The

Regent assured Turner of the firm, unshaken attachment which the Tashi

Lama had entertained for Mr. Hastings to his latest breath, and he was

also loud in his encomiums on the occasion that gave birth to their

present friendship, which originated entirely in his granting peace to

the Bhutanese in compliance with the intercession of the Tashi Lama.

In other interviews the Regent assured Turner that during the interview

of the late Tashi Lama with the Emperor of China, the Lama had taken

several opportunities to represent in the strongest terms the particular

amity which subsisted between the Governor-General and himself. The

Regent said that the Lama’s conversation had even influenced the Emperor

to resolve upon commencing a correspondence with his friend. Turner was

also assured that the Tashi Lama particularly sought from the Emperor

liberty to grant admission to Tibet to whatever person he chose, without

control. And to this the Emperor is said to have consented; but, owing

to the death of the Tashi Lama and the jealousy of the Chinese

officials, nothing resulted.

* * * * *

The power and influence of these Chinese officials in Tibet was

evidently very great, for in his intercourse with the Tibetan officials

Turner could plainly trace, though they were averse to own any immediate

dependence upon the Chinese, the greatest awe of the Emperor of China,

and of his officers stationed at the Court of Lhasa, who had usurped

even from the hands of the Dalai Lama the greatest portion of his

temporal power. When Turner offered to attend a certain ceremony, the

Regent excused himself from accepting the offer of his company on

account of the Chinese, whose jealousy of strangers was well known, and

to whom he was particularly anxious to give no occasion for offence. On

a subsequent occasion the Regent told Turner that many letters had

passed between himself and the Dalai Lama, who was always favourably

inclined towards the English; but he attributed the discouragement and

obstruction Turner had received to the Chinese officials at Lhasa. “The

influence of the Chinese,” adds Turner, “overawes the Tibetans in all

their proceedings, and produces a timidity and caution in their conduct

more suited to the character of subjects than allies.” At the same time,

they were very jealous of interference by the Chinese, and uneasy of

their yoke, though it sat so lightly upon them. And while they respected

the Chinese Emperor, and had this fear of Chinese officials, they

“looked upon the Chinese as a gross and impure race of men.”

* * * * *

And now again, as in Bogle’s time, we see traces of Russian influence.

The Regent and the Ministers told Turner that they were no strangers to

the reputation of the reigning Czarina, Catherine, her extent of

dominion, and the commerce carried on with China. Many overtures, they

told him, had been made on the part of Russia to extend her commerce to

the internal part of Tibet, but the disinclination of the Tibetans to

enter into any new foreign connection, and the watchful jealousy of the

Chinese, had hitherto defeated every attempt of that nature.

* * * * *

Turner spent nearly a year in Tibet, and though he was unable to visit

Lhasa owing to the antipathy of the Lamas, he was able to obtain some

substantial concessions from the Regent of the Tashi Lama at Shigatse.

He obtained[5] “his promise of encouragement to all merchants, natives

of India, that may be sent to traffic in Tibet, on behalf of the

Government of Bengal,” and he reports to Warren Hastings that his

authority alone is requisite to secure these merchants the protection of

the Regent, who had promised to grant free admission into Tibet to all

such merchants, natives of India, as shall come recommended by the

Governor of Bengal; to yield them every assistance requisite for the

transport of their goods; and to assign them a place of residence for

vending their commodities, either within the monastery at Shigatse, or,

should it be considered as more eligible, in the town itself. He did not

consider it consistent with the spirit of Warren Hastings’ instructions,

he reports, to be importunate for greater privileges than those to

native traders. Such as he had obtained he hoped would suffice to open

the much-wished-for communication. When merchants had learnt the way,

tasted the profit and established intercourse, the traffic might bear a

tax, which, if laid upon it in its infancy, might suppress its growth.

Turner rejoined Warren Hastings at Patna in March, 1784, and I remember

seeing, among some original letters of Warren Hastings in the Indian

Foreign Office, an enthusiastic appreciation of Turner’s work, and an

expression of the great pleasure the meeting afforded him; for Hastings

was as warmly appreciative with some men as he was coldly reserved with

others.

* * * * *

As long as Hastings remained in India our intercourse with Tibet

prospered. But soon after his departure a contretemps occurred, and all

his work was undone. In 1792 the Nepalese invaded Tibet, sacked

Shigatse, and carried off all the plunder of the monasteries. The Lamas

had to flee across the Brahmaputra and apply for protection to the

Chinese. A Chinese army was despatched to their assistance. The Nepalese

were defeated and driven back across their own frontier, and peace was

only concluded upon the conditions of an annual tribute to the Emperor

and the full restitution of all the spoils which they carried off.

By an unfortunate circumstance, through the first British Envoy having

arrived in Nepal just about the time of this invasion, the Chinese

commander formed the impression that we had instigated, or at least

encouraged, the Nepalese in their attack on Tibet; and the

representations which he made to his Government, coupled, says Turner,

with our declining to afford effectual assistance to the Lamas’ cause,

had considerable weight. As a consequence, all communication between

Tibet and India was stopped, and “the approach of strangers, even of

Bengal and Hindustan, was utterly prohibited.” The Hindu holy men were

charged with treachery in acting as spies and guides for the Nepalese,

and were forbidden to remain any longer in Shigatse; and “from this

period,” continues Turner, “unhappily is to be dated the interruption

which has taken place in the regular intercourse between the Company’s

possessions and the territory of the Lama.”

* * * * *

It was a sad ending to what had begun so promisingly, and one is tempted

to reflect what Warren Hastings would have done if he had still held the

reins of government in Bengal, and whether he would have been able to

restrain the Gurkhas, to assist the Lamas, and to reassure the Chinese.

Certainly it is a most unfortunate circumstance that we so often are

unable to help our friends just when they most need our help, and press

our friendship upon them just when they least want it.

Thus the results of Warren Hastings’ forethought and careful, steady

endeavour were all lost. Yet it must be conceded by the sturdiest

advocate of non-interference that those endeavours were not merely

statesman-like, but humane. There was never any attempt to aggress. No

threats were ever used; no impatience was shown. Warren Hastings, as the

representative of a trading company, looked, firstly, to improve trade

relations; but as the ruler of many millions of human beings, he knew

that trade or any other relationship must be based on mutual good

feeling, and he knew that good feeling with a suspicious people can only

be established by a very, very slow process. He therefore took each step

deliberately, and he strove to secure permanently the advantages of each

small step taken; and, having done this, he had some right to expect

that when he himself had shown so much restraint and moderation, those

who followed after would continue the same deliberate policy.

Unfortunately, as we have seen, the policy of drift and inaction in

regard to Tibet set in on Warren Hastings’ departure. The promotion of

intercourse had proved a difficult business; and with so much on hand

elsewhere in the building up of the Indian Empire, it was perhaps

natural that the ordinary Governor-General should let the matter drop.

-----

Footnote 5:

Turner, p. 374.

-----

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CHAPTER III

MANNING’S VISIT TO LHASA

Now when statesmen were most lukewarm about Tibet the inevitable English

adventurer came to the front. And it is a curious circumstance that it

was just when our relations with the Tibetans were at their coldest that

the only Englishman who ever reached Lhasa before the Mission of 1904

achieved this success. He was not an accredited agent of Government sent

to bring into effect a deliberate policy such as that conceived by

Warren Hastings. He was a private adventurer, and he went up in spite

of, and against the wishes of, the Government of the time.

His name was Manning. At Cambridge he was the friend of Charles Lamb,

and was of such ability that he was expected to be at least Second

Wrangler, but he was of an eccentric nature, and “had a strong

repugnance to oaths,” and left the University without a degree. He

conceived, however, a passionate desire to see the Chinese Empire. He

studied the Chinese language in France and England, afterwards made his

way to Canton, remained there three years, and in 1810 procured a letter

of introduction from the Select Committee of Canton to Lord Minto, then

Governor-General of India, asking him to give him every practicable

assistance in the prosecution of his plans. But he received little or no

aid from the Government, and was left to his own resources, without

official recognition of any description.

Manning, attended by a Chinese servant, proceeded to Tibet through

Bhutan, and on October 21, 1811, arrived at Phari, at the head of the

Chumbi Valley. His description of the Jong then precisely corresponds

with our own experiences in Tibet on many an occasion since: “Dirt,

dirt, grease, smoke. Misery, but good mutton.”

* * * * *

A Chinese Mandarin arrived there about the same time, and Manning gave

him two bottles of cherry-brandy and a wineglass. This, and probably

Manning’s very original manners, evidently unfroze his heart, for he

asked him to dinner, and promised to write immediately to the Lhasa

Mandarin for permission for him to proceed. Manning also received

applications to cure soldiers, and his medicines “did wonderfully well,

and the patients were very grateful.” They even petitioned for him to go

with the Mandarin towards Gyantse, and the Mandarin granted their

request.

Altogether, Manning made a very favourable impression on the Chinese

who, he remarked, lorded it in Tibet like the English in India, and made

the Tibetans stand before them. And he considered then that there were

advantages in having the Chinese in this superior position. “Things are

much pleasanter now the Chinese are here,” he says; “the magistrate

hints about overtures respecting opening a commercial intercourse

between the Chinese and the English through Bhutan. I cannot help

exclaiming in my mind (as I often do) what fools the Company are to give

me no commission, no authority, no instructions. What use are their

Embassies when their Ambassadors cannot speak to a soul, and can only

make ordinary phrases pass through a stupid interpreter? No _finesse_,

no _tournure_, no compliments. Fools, fools, fools, to neglect an

opportunity they may never have again!”

* * * * *

Poor Manning experienced very severe cold, and travelled to Gyantse in

great discomfort, and felt these discomforts acutely, so that the

greater part of his diary is filled with quaint denunciation of his

Chinese clerk; of a vicious horse which kicked and bit him; of the

“common horse-furniture,” which was “detestable”; of the saddle which

was so high behind and before that he sat in pain unless he twisted

himself unequally; of another pony “which sprang forward in a full

runaway gallop, with the most furious and awkward motion he ever

experienced”; of yet another that was “so weak, so tottering, and so

stumbling, and which trembled so whenever he set his foot on a stone,

which was about every other step,” that he could “hardly keep up with

the company”; of his being “so eaten up by little insects” that he had

to sit down in the sunshine and get rid of as many as he could, for he

“suffered a good deal from these little insects, whose society he was

not used to”; of his at last finding “a very pleasant-going horse with a

handsome countenance,” which he was tempted to buy, “but was checked by

the prudent consideration that he might encumber me at Lhasa,” and too

much disencumber his lean purse. Strange that the first Englishman ever

to visit Lhasa should have been incommoded for want of a five-pound note

with which to buy a rough hill pony.

At Gyantse the Chinese Mandarin and General, in whose train Manning had

come, appointed him a little lodge in the courtyard of the principal

house, and whatever he required was soon supplied by the Chinese

soldiers and others who wished medical treatment from him. “One brought

rice, one brought meat, another brought a table, another brought a

little paste and paper and mended a hole in the window, another brought

a present of a pen and candles.” Every Chinaman in the town came to see

him. The General was “vastly civil and polite,” and invited him to

dinner. But though he was “very much of a gentleman,” Manning concluded

that he was “really no better than an old woman.” The dinner was

tolerably good, and the wine excellent, but the cooking was indifferent.

On the other hand, the Mandarin was impressed by Manning’s beard. He had

known men with better moustaches than Manning’s, for he had, “for

convenience of eating, song, and drink,” cut his short in India, and it

had not yet grown again. But the beard never failed to excite the

General’s admiration, and he declared he had never seen one nearly so

handsome. The General, likewise, approved of his “countenance and

manner.” He pretended to skill in physiognomy and fortune-telling, and

foretold very great things of Manning.

Manning also visited the Tibet Mandarin, who lived “in a sort of castle

on the top of a hill,” the Jong, which General Macdonald attacked and

captured in 1904, and they discussed Calcutta and Tibet together for

half an hour, but what they said Manning does not record. The Tibetan

intimated that he would return the visit the next day, and he sent “some

rice and a useful piece of cloth, but did not come himself.”

With his medical practice Manning had a greater success. To one Chinaman

and his wife, who were suffering from “an intermittent fever,” he gave

“opium, Fowler’s solution of arsenic, and afterwards left them a few

pages of bark. The mother-in-law, also, who had the complaint of old

age, he cheered up with a little comforting physic.”

The General often came to see him, “for, like many other Generals, he

had nothing to do, and was glad of a morning lounge.” He managed,

however, to foist a Chinese servant on to Manning as cook. This man’s

cooking was bad, but “in drying and folding up linen he saved him

infinite trouble,” for, says Manning, “I never could to this day fold up

a shirt or other vestment. A handkerchief or a sheet I can manage, but

nothing further.”

Manning, hearing that the General was fond of music, and “no bad

performer,” took the opportunity “one day, while he was smoking his pipe

in my courtyard, of introducing the subject, and paying my court to him

by requesting the favour of hearing music. This brought me an invitation

to take an evening repast and wine with him, which was just what I

liked. He gave us a very pretty concert.... The Chinese music, though

rather meagre to a European, has its beauties.... The General insisted

upon my giving him a specimen of European (Calcutta) music on the

Chinese flute. I was not acquainted with the fingering of that

instrument, but I managed to produce something, which he politely

praised.”

The answer from the Lhasa magistrate to his request to be permitted to

proceed to Lhasa arrived a few days after his arrival at Gyantse. A

passport was given him, transport and supplies furnished, and as he

neared Lhasa he was met by a “respectable person on horseback, who

dismounted and saluted,” and who had been sent out by the Tibetan

authorities to welcome him and conduct him to Lhasa.

The view of the Potala, “of the lofty, towering palace, which forms a

majestic mountain of a building,” excited his admiration, but if the

palace had exceeded his expectations, he says, the town as far fell

short of them. There was “nothing striking, nothing pleasing, in its

appearance. The habitations were begrimed with smut and dirt.... In

short, everything seemed mean and gloomy, and excited the idea of

something unreal.”

His first care was to provide himself with a proper hat, and, having

found one, he proceeded to pay his respects to the Chinese Mandarin.

Coming into his presence, he for the first time in his life performed

the ceremony of _ketese_, or kneeling. The Mandarin received him

politely, and said he had provided him with quarters. On the following

day he visited two of the chief Tibetan officials.

* * * * *

On December 17, 1811, he went to the Potala to salute the Grand Lama. He

took with him as an offering some broadcloth, two pair of china ewers,

and a pair of good brass candlesticks, which he had “clean and furbished

up,” and into which he put “two wax candles to make a show.” He also

took “thirty new bright dollars, and as many pieces of zinc,” and,

besides this, “some genuine Smith’s lavender-water ... and a good store

of Nankin tea, which is a rarity and delicacy at Lhasa, and not to be

bought there.”

Arrived in the great hall he made due obeisance, touching the ground

three times with his head to the Grand Lama, and once to the Ti-mi-fu.

While he was bowing, "the awkward servants contrived to let fall and

break the bottle of lavender-water." Having delivered his present to the

Grand Lama, he took off his hat, and “humbly gave his clean-shaved head

to lay his hands upon.”

This ceremony over, he sat on a cushion, not far from the Lama’s throne,

and had suché brought them. But “the Lama’s beautiful and interesting

face and manner engrossed almost all his attention.” His face was, he

thought, poetically and affectingly beautiful. He was at that time about

seven years old, and had the simple and unaffected manners of a

well-educated, princely child. Sometimes, particularly when he looked at

Manning, his smile almost approached to a gentle laugh. “No doubt,”

naïvely remarks Manning, “my grim beard and spectacles somewhat excited

his risibility.”

The little Grand Lama addressed a few remarks to Manning, speaking in

Tibetan to the Chinese interpreter, the interpreter in Chinese to

Manning’s Chinese Munshi, and the Munshi in Latin to Manning. “I was

extremely affected by this interview with the Lama,” says Manning. “I

could have wept through strangeness of sensation.”

* * * * *

Here in Lhasa, as at Gyantse, Manning had many applications made to him

for medicine, and he treated both Chinese and Tibetans. But spies also

came, and “certainly,” says Manning, “my bile used to rise when the

hounds looked into my room.” The Tartar General detested Europeans. They

were the cause, he said, of all his misfortunes. Sometimes he said

Manning was a missionary, and at other times a spy. “These Europeans are

very formidable; now one man has come to spy the country he will inform

others. Numbers will come, and at last they will be for taking the

country from us.” So argued the Mandarins, and, indeed, there were

rumours that the Chinese meant to execute Manning. He had always fully

expected this possibility, and writes: “I never could, even in idea,

make up my mind to submit to an execution with firmness and manliness.”

Yet, on the whole, he was not badly treated. He remained on at Lhasa for

several months, paying many visits to the Grand Lama, and eventually

orders came from Peking for him to return the way he came. He left Lhasa

on April 19, and reached Kuch Behar on June 10, 1812.

* * * * *

Manning’s own object was “A moral view of China, its manners, the degree

of happiness the people enjoy, their sentiments and opinions so far as

they influence life, their literature, their history, the causes of

their stability and vast population, their minor arts and contrivances;

what there might be in China to serve as a model for imitation, and what

to serve as a beacon to avoid.” Having been foiled in this his main

object, he does not appear to have regarded the subsidiary circumstance

that he had reached Lhasa as of particular interest. And he seems to

have been so disgusted with the Government’s refusal to support him,

that when he returned to Calcutta he would give no one any particulars

of his journey. The account which Markham published sixty years later

was only discovered long after his death.

It is a meagre record of so important a journey, yet it exemplifies one

or two points which are worthy of note. It showed that an individual

Englishman, with delicacy of touch and with a real sympathetic feeling

towards those among whom he was travelling, could find his way even into

the very presence of the Dalai Lama in the Potala itself. It showed,

too, that he could get on perfectly well with the Chinese personally.

But it showed likewise that at the back of the minds of both the

Tibetans and Chinese was a strong dread of the British power, which made

them fear to allow a single Englishman to remain in Tibet or even pass

through the country.

Yet Manning confirmed what Bogle and Turner had also noticed—that, while

the Tibetans dreaded the Chinese, they disliked them intensely. He says

that the Chinese were very disrespectful to the Tibetans. Only

bad-charactered Chinamen were sent to Tibet, and he could not help

thinking that the Tibetans "would view the Chinese influence in Tibet

overthrown without many emotions of regret, especially if the rulers

under the new influence were to treat the Grand Lama with respect; for

this is a point in which those haughty Mandarins are somewhat deficient,

to the no small dissatisfaction of the good people of Lhasa." These

words would be very fairly applicable to the situation at the present

day.

* * * * *

After Manning, no Englishman, in either a private or official capacity,

visited Lhasa till the Mission of 1904. This seems to show want of

enterprise on the part of Englishmen in India; but some did make the

attempt, and many more would have if they could have obtained the

necessary leave from all the authorities concerned. British officers in

India are keen enough to go on such adventures, but leave can very

rarely be obtained. I had myself planned out such a journey in 1889. I

had interviewed the Foreign Secretary, now Sir Mortimer Durand, and not

only obtained permission, but even some pecuniary assistance, when, at

the last moment, I was refused permission by the Colonel of my regiment.

Such restrictions must, I know, have prevented many another besides

myself. Still, efforts were made by individual officers, unsupported by

Government, to explore Tibet, and, if possible, reach Lhasa. Moorcroft

explored Western Tibet, and, according to some reports, actually reached

Lhasa and died there; Richard and Henry Strachey visited the sources of

the Brahmaputra and the Sutlej; Carey, Littledale, Bower, Wellby, Deasy,

and Rawling explored in Northern Tibet; and native surveyors mapped even

Lhasa itself, to which point Sarat Chandra Das also penetrated at great

risk and brought back most valuable information.

These and other efforts to explore the country by the Russian travellers

Prjevalsky, Pievtsoff and Kozoloff; by the Frenchmen Huc and Gabet,

Bonvalot, Prince Henri d’Orléans, Dutreuil de Rhins and Grenard; and by

that indefatigable and courageous Swedish traveller, Sven Hedin, have

all been brought together by Sir Thomas Holdich in his recent work on

exploration in Tibet. It is not necessary here to do more than refer to

the fact that efforts to gain a knowledge of the country were almost

continuously being made through the second half of last century; my

object is rather to describe the effort, not so much to explore the

country, as to regularize and foster the intercourse which already

existed with its people.

------------------

CHAPTER IV

THE BENGAL GOVERNMENT’S EFFORTS, 1873–1886

It was not till a century had elapsed since Warren Hastings had begun

his attempts to form a friendship with the Tibetans that the Government

in India again made any real effort to come into proper relationship

with their neighbours. For a century they were content to let things

take their course, in spite of their informality, and in spite of the

fact that Indian subjects were having all the worst of the intercourse,

for while Tibetans were allowed to come to India when and where and how

they liked, to trade there without duty and without hindrance, to travel

and to reside wherever they wished, on the other side, obstructions of

every kind were placed in the way of Indians, and still more of British,

trading, travelling, or residing in Tibet. But in the year 1873 the

Indian Government began to stir, and take stock of the position, and to

reflect whether this one-sided condition of affairs might not be changed

to the advantage of Indians and Europeans without hurting the Tibetans.

In that year the Bengal Government addressed the Government of India a

letter, a copy of which was sent to the Royal Geographical Society, in

which they urged that the Chinese should be pressed “for an order of

admittance to Tibet,” and that “the authorities at Peking should allow a

renewal of the friendly intercourse between India and Tibet which

existed in the days of Bogle and Turner.” The Bengal Government said

that the Government of India and the Secretary of State had repeatedly

expressed the great interest which they took in this subject, and the

wish that no favourable opportunity should be neglected of promoting the

development of commercial intercourse between British India and those

trans-Himalayan countries which were then practically closed to us. If

only the Chinese and Tibetans would remove the embargo at present

imposed upon the entry of our trade, there were, by routes under our own

control, no serious difficulties or dangers of any kind to overcome, and

none of the risks of collision which existed elsewhere.

Tibet, the Bengal Government said, was a well-regulated country with

which our Hillmen were in constant communication. When Europeans went to

the frontier and tried to cross it, there was no display of violence or

disturbance. They were civilly turned back, with an intimation that

there were orders not to admit them. All the inquiries of the

Lieutenant-Governor led to the belief that the Tibetans themselves had

no objections to intercourse with us. The experiences of the great

botanist, Sir Joseph Hooker, who in 1849 had travelled to the Tibetan

border, and Blanford among the recent travellers, and of Bogle and

Turner in the past, were singularly at one upon this point. The

Commandant of Khamba Jong, who had met Mr. Blanford on the frontier in

1870, assured him that the Tibetans had no ill-will to foreigners, and

would, if allowed, gladly receive Europeans. The fact appeared to be,

the Lieutenant-Governor said, that “the prohibition to intercourse with

Tibet is part of the Chinese policy of exclusion imposed on the Tibetans

by Chinese officials and enforced by Chinese troops stationed in Tibet.”

He fully sympathized with the Chinese desire to keep out foreigners in

China. “But,” he said, “in Tibet there is not wealth enough to attract

many adventurers; there is room only for a moderate and legitimate

commerce;” and among a people so good and well regulated as the Tibetans

there would be no such difficulties as existed in China. If the road

were opened, it would be used only by fair traders and by responsible

Government servants or travellers under the control of Government.

In seeking to press the Chinese for admittance to Tibet, he said, the

most emphatic declaration might be made that, having our natural and

best boundary in the Himalayas, we could not, and would not in any

circumstances, encroach on Tibet, and we might offer to arrange that

none save Hillmen or classes domiciled in Tibet should be allowed to go

in without a pass, which would be given under such restrictions that

Government would be responsible for the conduct of the holders.

The Lieutenant-Governor adduced as a further reason for entering into

formal relationship with the Tibetans that, if we had an understanding

between us, we should together be able to keep in order the wild tribes

inhabiting the hilly country between British territory and Tibet. And he

instanced the case of the Mezhow Mishnies, who for murdering two French

missionaries in 1854 were punished both by us and by the Tibetans, and

who, in consequence, ever after had “a most salutary dread of using

violence.”

* * * * *

The Bengal Government also contended then in 1873, as they are still

contending now, for the admission of our tea. Indian tea is grown in

large quantities on the hills in British territory bordering Tibet. But,

said the Lieutenant-Governor, nearly forty years ago: “The Tibetans, or

rather their Chinese Governors, will not, on protectionist principles,

admit our tea across the passes. An absolute embargo is laid on anything

in the shape of tea.” The removal of this, he thought, might well be

made a subject of special negotiation. And besides tea, the Bengal

Government thought that Manchester and Birmingham goods and Indian

indigo would find a market in Tibet, and that we should receive in

return much wool, sheep, cattle, walnuts, Tibetan cloths, and other

commodities.

Thus, thirty years before the Tibet Mission started the local Government

had made a real effort to have the Chinese pressed to abandon their

policy of exclusion so far as Tibet was concerned. The lineal official

descendant of Warren Hastings in the Governorship of Bengal neither

attempted nor advocated any high-handed local measures. He stated his

case calmly and reasonably, and advocated the most correct course—the

attempt to settle the matter direct with the Chinese.

Local officers are often told that they are too impatient, and that they

too frequently want to settle a matter by local action, when it might be

so much better disposed of by correspondence from headquarters; by

negotiations, for instance, between London and Peking, or London and St.

Petersburg. They are urged to take a wider view, and to display a calmer

spirit, and greater confidence in the wisdom and sagacity of their

London rulers. But when thirty years after this very moderate and

perfectly reasonable request was made by the local authority, the matter

was still no nearer settlement than it was when the request was made;

and when the House of Commons, which controls the destinies of the

Empire, was still asking why we did not apply to the Chinese, the local

officer’s faith in the superior efficacy of headquarters treatment is

somewhat shaken. And he often questions whether matters which, after

forming the subject of voluminous correspondence between the provincial

Government and the Government of India, between the latter and the India

Office, between the India Office and the Foreign Office, between the

Foreign Office and the Ambassador abroad, between him and the Foreign

Government, which are discussed in the Cabinet, and form a subject for

debate in the House of Commons and the House of Lords, and for platform

speeches and newspaper articles innumerable, do not in this lengthy

process assume a magnitude which they never originally possessed;

whether, having assumed such magnitude, they ever really do get settled

or only compromised; and whether, after all, they might not have been

settled expeditiously and decisively on the spot before they had been

allowed to grow to these alarming proportions.

There are, one knows, many cases which can only be settled by the

Central Government, and which are so settled very satisfactorily, but I

am doubtful if Tibet is one of these, and whether we have been wise in

the instance of Tibet, and in many others connected with China, to make

so much of, and expect so much from, the Chinese Central Government,

which has so little real control over the local Governments. Perhaps if

the Government of Bengal, with the countenance and support of the

Imperial Government, had long ago dealt directly with the Lhasa

authorities, Chinese and Tibetan matters might have been arranged more

expeditiously and satisfactorily. At any rate, it cannot be safely

assumed that the Central Government method is necessarily the best.

In this case, for instance, all that resulted was that the Chinese

Government, in the Chefu Convention concluded three years later,

undertook to protect any mission which should be sent to Tibet—an

undertaking which was literally valueless, for when a mission was

actually sent to Tibet they were unable to afford it the slightest

protection, and the Chinese representative in Lhasa confessed to me in

writing that he could not even get the Tibetans to give him transport to

enable him to meet me.

The Government of Bengal had therefore to content themselves with

improving the road inside our frontier, and with doing what they could

on our side to entice and further trade.

* * * * *

But in 1885 a renewed effort was made to come to an understanding with

the Tibetans. The brilliant Secretary of the Bengal Government, Colman

Macaulay, visited the frontier to see if any useful relationship could

be established with the Shigatse people by the route up the head of the

Sikkim Valley. The Tashi Lama, who resides at Shigatse, had always been

more friendly than the Lhasa people, and this seemed more promising.

Macaulay saw a local Tibetan official from the other side, entered into

friendly intercourse, and found, as Bogle and Turner had found, that

apart from Chinese obstruction there was no objection on the part of the

Tibetan people themselves to enter into friendly relationship. Macaulay

was filled with enthusiasm. He threw his whole soul and energy into the

matter. He secured the support of the Government of India. And, more

important still, he fired the Secretary of State for India with ardour.

Never before had such enthusiasm for improving our relations with Tibet

been shown. And as it happened that this Secretary of State was the best

the India Office have ever had—the man who without any faltering

hesitation annexed Burma, to the lasting benefit of the Burmese, of

ourselves, and of humanity—there seemed now a real prospect of success.

Lord Randolph Churchill and Colman Macaulay were something of kindred

spirits, and Macaulay was sent to Peking with every support and

encouragement to get the necessary permit for a mission to Lhasa. The

Chinese assented. Permission was granted. Macaulay organized his

mission, bought rich presents, collected his transport, and was on the

eve of starting from Darjiling when “international considerations” came

in and Government countermanded the whole affair.

“Everything had gone so fairly,” wrote Macaulay to Sir Clements Markham

from Darjiling in October, 1886, “that it was difficult for us here to

believe that we should be shipwrecked within sight of the promised

land.” Yet so it was, and he took his disappointment so deeply to heart

that he completely broke down in health, and died a few years later.

* * * * *

Immediately following on the abandonment of the mission came the most

unprovoked aggression on the part of the Tibetans. They crossed the

Jelap-la, the pass from Chumbi into Sikkim and the frontier between

Tibet and our feudatory State, and they occupied Lengtu, eighteen miles

on our side of the frontier, building a guard-house there, and turning

out one of our road overseers, placed there to superintend the road

which Sir Richard Temple had made when Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.

And on hearing that the mission had been countermanded, they became so

elated that they boasted that they would occupy Darjiling, only

seventy-eight miles off, and something like a panic ensued in this

almost unprotected summer resort. At the same time, on the opposite side

of Tibet they were still more actively aggressive, expelling the Roman

Catholic missionaries from their long-established homes at Batang,

massacring many of their converts, and burning the mission-house.

This is a very essential fact to bear in mind in the consideration of

the Tibetan question—that after both Tibetan and Chinese

susceptibilities had been given way to on every occasion, it was the

Tibetans who invaded us. It was a Bhutanese invasion of the plains of

Bengal, followed by a letter from the Tashi Lama, that had initiated our

relations with Tibet in the time of Warren Hastings. And it was this

invasion of Sikkim that forced upon us the regularization of our

relations with the Tibetans.

* * * * *

When the Tibetans thus invaded the territory of our feudatory, we should

have been well within our right in forthwith expelling them by force;

but, in accordance with the policy of forbearance we had so consistently

pursued, we referred the matter to the Chinese, and requested them to

procure the withdrawal of the Tibetans. We also allowed the Chinese

ample time, a year, within which to bring their influence to bear. Then,

at the end of 1887, we wrote to the Tibetan commander that unless he

evacuated his position before March 15, 1888, he would be expelled by

force. This letter was returned unopened. In February we wrote to the

Dalai Lama himself to the same effect, but again we received no reply.

It was only on March 20, 1888, that a British force assumed the

offensive, and advanced upon the Tibetans in the position they had

occupied within our frontier at Lengtu.

The Tibetans, for the time being, offered no resistance, and retired to

Chumbi, on their own side of the frontier, and our troops occupied a

position at Gnatong, on our side. Two months later, however, the

Tibetans again showed truculence, and with 3,000 men attacked our camp

at Gnatong. They were repulsed, and once more withdrew. But in September

they, for the third time, advanced across our border, and in a single

night, with that skill in building for which they are so remarkable,

threw up a wall three miles long and from 3 to 4 feet high in a position

just above Gnatong, and some miles within our border.

This position General Graham attacked on the following day, and drove

the Tibetans from it over the Jelap-la Pass, and in the ensuing days

pursued them into the Chumbi Valley. But here again, in accordance with

our principle of respecting Chinese susceptibilities, our troops did not

remain in Chumbi a single day, but returned at once to Gnatong. For two

years now the Tibetans had been encroaching on our side of the frontier,

but not for one day would we permit our troops to remain on the Tibetan

side. Forbearance could scarcely go further than this, but yet it was to

be still more strained on many a subsequent occasion.

CHAPTER V

THE CONVENTION WITH CHINA

The Chinese Amban, or Resident, at Lhasa now appeared upon the scene to

effect a settlement, and during 1889 we endeavoured to have the frontier

line properly fixed and our exclusive supremacy in Sikkim, which was

recorded in well-known treaties, definitely recognized. We also wished,

if possible, to have trade regulated. Considering that we had abandoned

the proposed mission to Lhasa out of deference to Chinese and Tibetan

susceptibilities, that the Tibetans had assumed the offensive, and that

the Chinese had shown themselves utterly unable to control them, this

was not an unreasonable expectation to hold. We made no demand for

indemnity or for any accession of territory. We merely asked that the

boundary and trade should be regulated. Yet a year of negotiation passed

and no result was obtained, and the Government of India told the Chinese

negotiators that they had decided “to close the Sikkim incident, so far

as China is concerned, without insisting upon a specific agreement.”

But now that the Indian Government, knowing that they could perfectly

well hold their own up to their frontier, and finding that the Chinese

were of little use in controlling events beyond it, were quite prepared

to drop negotiations, the Chinese themselves came forward and pressed

for their conclusion. This is an important point. It was now the Chinese

who were pressing for an agreement. Further, and this is still more

important, they stated that “China will be quite able to enforce in

Tibet the terms of the treaty,” and they asked the Government of India

to depute officers to meet the Chinese Resident at Gnatong. For the

agreement which was subsequently reached the Chinese are therefore in

the fullest sense responsible. They had themselves sought it, and they

had themselves undertaken to control the affairs of the Tibetans.

Agreement was eventually reached in 1890, and a Convention was signed by

Lord Lansdowne and the Chinese Resident in Calcutta on March 17. It laid

down that “the boundary of Sikkim and Tibet shall be the crest of the

mountain range separating the waters flowing into the Sikkim Teesta, and

the affluents from the waters flowing into the Tibetan Mochu, and

northwards into other rivers of Tibet.” It admitted the British

protectorate over the Sikkim State. By it both the Chinese and British

Governments engaged “reciprocally to respect the boundary as defined in

Article I., and to prevent acts of aggression from their respective

sides of the frontier.” The three questions of providing increased

facilities for trade, of pasturage, and of the method in which official

communications between the British authorities in India and the

authorities in Tibet should be conducted were reserved for discussion by

joint Commissioners from either side, who should meet within six months

of the ratification of the Convention.

This Convention proved in practice to be of not the slightest use, for

the Tibetans never recognized it, and the Chinese were totally unable to

impress them. But it was at least a start towards effecting our ultimate

object of regularizing our intercourse with Tibet, and for another three

years we solemnly occupied ourselves in discussing the three reserved

points; the Chinese Resident, Sheng, being himself the joint

Commissioner on the side of the Chinese, and Mr. A. W. Paul representing

the British Government.

Our principal aim was to get some mart recognized, to which our

merchants could resort and there meet Tibetan merchants. We did not

attempt to gain permission for our traders to travel all over Tibet, as

Tibetan traders can travel all over India. We merely sought to have one

single place recognized where Indian and Tibetan traders could meet to

do business with each other. And the place we sought to get so

recognized was not in the centre of Tibet, or even in Tibet proper at

all. It did not lie on the far side of the Himalayan watershed. It was

Phari, at the head of the Chumbi Valley, on the southern side of the

main Himalayan range. Yet to even this the Chinese and Tibetans would

not agree, and eventually Yatung, at the extreme southern end of the

Chumbi Valley and immediately on our border, was agreed upon.

Having made this concession, and having refrained from pressing for

permission to allow British subjects to travel beyond this or to buy

land and build houses there, we had hoped that the Chinese would meet

our wishes in regard to the admission of tea. Speakers in Parliament

scoffed at the idea of pressing tea upon the Chinese, but for the Bengal

Government it is an important point. All along the low hills bordering

Tibet there are numerous tea-plantations, affording both an outlet for

British and Indian capital and employment for many thousands of Indian

labourers. To a responsible local Government it is of importance to

encourage and foster this industry. Now, just across the frontier are

three millions of tea-drinkers. Tea is just the kind of light, portable

commodity most suited for transit across mountains, and it was perfectly

natural, reasonable, and right that the Bengal Government should press

for its admission to Tibet, that the Tibetans might at least have the

chance of buying it or not, as they pleased. But the Chinese, in spite

of concessions in other matters by the Government of India, remained

obstinate, and still remain obstinate, in regard to the admission of

tea, and eventually only agreed to admit Indian tea into Tibet “at a

rate of duty not exceeding that at which Chinese tea is imported into

England,” which, as the latter rate of duty is 6d. per pound, and the

tea drunk in Tibet is very inferior, was in reality the imposition of an

_ad valorem_ duty of from 150 to 200 per cent., and was therefore a

concession of not the slightest value.

* * * * *

On December 5, 1893, the Trade Regulations were signed at Darjiling. The

trade-mart at Yatung was to “be open for all British Subjects for

purposes of trade from the first day of May, 1894,” and the Government

were to be “free to send officers to reside at Yatung to watch the

conditions of British trade.” British subjects were not at liberty to

buy land and build houses for themselves, but were to be free “to rent

houses and godowns (stores) for their own accommodation and for the

storage of their goods,” and “to sell their goods to whomsoever they

please, to purchase native commodities in kind or in money, to hire

transport of any kind, and, in general, to conduct their business

without any vexatious restrictions.” Goods other than arms, liquors, and

others specified, were to be “exempt from duty for a period of five

years”; but after that, if found desirable, a tariff might be “mutually

agreed upon and enforced.” The Political Officer in Sikkim and the

Chinese Frontier Officer in conference were to settle any trade disputes

arising.

No arrangements for communication between British and Tibetan officials

were made, but it was laid down that despatches from the Government of

India to the Chinese Resident should be handed over by the Political

Officer in Sikkim to the Chinese Frontier Officer.

And as to grazing, it was agreed that at the end of one year such

Tibetans as continued to graze their cattle in Sikkim should be subject

to such regulations as the British Government might lay down.

* * * * *

May 1, 1894, had been fixed as the date upon which the trade-mart at

Yatung was to be opened, and at the appointed time Mr. Claude White, the

Political Officer in Sikkim, was sent to visit Yatung, to attend the

opening of the mart, and to report on the general situation as regards

trade. He was instructed not to raise the question of demarcating the

frontier, but to undertake, if the subject was mooted by the Chinese

officials, that their views and suggestions should be laid before the

Government of India.

Mr. White, writing on June 9 from Yatung, reported that, in the first

place, the site of the mart had been “exceedingly badly chosen.” It will

be remembered that it was chosen by the Tibetans, and simply accepted by

us out of deference to their feelings. It was at the bottom of a narrow

valley, shut in by steep hills, with no room for expansion. He further

reported that the godowns (stores), or shops, built for the trade would

answer the purpose of native shops, but were quite inadequate for the

storage of goods or for the use of European merchants, and that the rent

proposed was exorbitant, being Rs. 25 a month, when a fair rent would be

from Rs. 4 to Rs. 5. He found the Tibetans most discourteous and

obstructive, and he believed that the Lhasa authorities had issued

orders that the free-trade clauses of the treaty were not to be carried

out. The local official at Phari, at the head of the Chumbi Valley,

charged 10 per cent. on all goods passing through Phari, both imports

and exports; and this action, in Mr. White’s opinion, certainly did away

with any freedom of trade, as provided for in the treaty, for it was

obviously useless to have provided by treaty that Indian goods should be

allowed to enter Tibet free of duty if a few miles inside the frontier,

and on the only road into Tibet, a heavy duty was to be imposed upon

them.

Mr. White also reported that the Chinese, though friendly to him, and

apparently willing to help, had “no authority whatever.” They admitted

that the treaty was not being carried out in a proper spirit, and Mr.

White gathered that the Tibetans actually repudiated it, and asserted

that it was signed by the British Government and the Chinese, and

therefore they had nothing to do with it. In any case, they maintained

that they had a right to impose what taxes they chose at Phari so long

as goods were allowed to pass Yatung free. The Chinese confessed that

they were not able to manage the Tibetans. The Tibetans would not obey

them, and the Chinese were afraid to give any orders. China was suzerain

over Tibet only in name, was Mr. White’s conclusion. Negotiation was,

therefore, he said, most difficult, for though the Chinese agreed to any

proposal, they were quite unable to answer for the Tibetans, and the

Tibetans, when spoken to, either sheltered themselves behind the Chinese

or said that they had no orders to give any answer for Lhasa, and could

only report.

* * * * *

Mr. White’s immediate superior, the Commissioner of the Rajshahi

Division, agreed with him that the levying of a duty of 10 per cent. _ad

valorem_ at Phari was a clear breach of the main article of the Trade

Convention. He contended that by Article IV. of the Regulations it is

provided that goods entering Tibet for British India across the

Sikkim-Tibet frontier, or _vice versa_, shall be exempt from duty for a

period of five years, and that this meant a general exemption from all

duties, wherever imposed, the place of realization being altogether

irrelevant. He recommended, therefore, that this breach of the main

article of the treaty, to which all the other provisions were ancillary,

should be made the subject of a representation to the Chinese

Government.

The Government of Bengal took the same view. They thought the levy of

the duty at Phari undoubtedly seemed to be inconsistent with the terms

of the treaty, which provided for free trade for a period of five years.

And the Lieutenant-Governor felt that no time should be lost in making

this matter the subject of a representation to the Government of China.

And in this view our Minister at Peking, Mr. (afterwards Sir Nicholas)

O’Conor, Ambassador at St. Petersburg and Constantinople, thoroughly

concurred, and suggested to the Viceroy that the imposition of a 10 per

cent. _ad valorem_ duty at Phari should be very strongly protested

against as contrary to treaty stipulations.

The Government of India, however, "recognizing the necessity for extreme

patience in dealing with the Tibetans, decided that it would be

premature to make any formal complaint of their obstructiveness."[6]

They wrote to the Government of Bengal that "The information in regard

to the levy of duty at Phari and to the obstructiveness of the Tibetans

was certainly unsatisfactory, but the Regulations only laid down that

goods entering Tibet from British India across the Sikkim-Tibet

frontier, or _vice versa_, shall be exempt, etc. Phari is a considerable

distance from the frontier, and unless it could be shown that the duty

to which Mr. White referred was a special one newly imposed it appeared

doubtful whether the Government of India could enter a valid objection."

“It has always been recognized,” continues the despatch, "that the

utmost patience is necessary in dealing with the Tibetans, and having

regard to the short time which has elapsed since the date fixed for the

opening of the Yatung mart, the Governor-General in Council would prefer

to make nothing in the nature of a complaint to the Chinese Government

at the present stage."[7]

The Viceroy, accordingly, merely wrote to the Amban that he had been

sorry to learn from Mr. White’s reports that he was disappointed at the

existing conditions of trade between Tibet and Sikkim; that it would

seem that Mr. White was of opinion that trade was unduly hampered by the

action of the Tibetan officials at Phari; that His Excellency (the

Amban) would be interested to hear the views which Mr. White had formed;

and that he, the Viceroy, was confident that traders will, under the

Amban’s directions, be allowed all the freedom and privileges

permissible under the Regulations, and he hoped that before long they

might be able to congratulate each other on successful trade development

at Yatung. Certainly nothing could have been milder, more patient, and

more forbearing—and also, as it proved, less effectual.

* * * * *

It was not only in trade matters that the Tibetans had shown a disregard

of the treaty. In the matter of the frontier also they proved

troublesome, and during his stay at Yatung Mr. White was informed that

certain places in the north-east of Sikkim, and within the boundary laid

down in the Convention of 1890, had recently been occupied by Tibetan

soldiers. The Viceroy wrote to the Amban in August, 1899, pointing out

that such incidents were not unlikely to occur as long as the frontier

officials had no practical acquaintance with the actual border-line, and

suggesting that it would probably be convenient to arrange that Frontier

Officers should meet before long on the border and travel together along

the boundary fixed by the Convention.

To this the Amban replied, in October, that the Tibetan Council raised

objections to our officers “travelling along” the frontier, and were

unable to agree that British officers should travel on the Tibetan side

of the frontier, but that they considered the proposal to send officers

to define the frontier was one with which it was proper to comply. The

Amban had, accordingly, deputed a Chinese Major commanding the frontier

troops, and the Tibetan Council had deputed a General and a Chief

Steward, to proceed to the frontier to meet the officer appointed by the

Viceroy, “there to inspect the border between Sikkim and Tibet as

defined by the Convention, and to make a careful examination in order

that boundary pillars might be erected, which shall be for ever

respected by either side.” In conclusion, the Amban asked to be informed

what officer had been deputed by the Viceroy for this duty, and the date

on which he would arrive on the frontier, in order that he might

instruct the Chinese and Tibetan deputies “to proceed at the appointed

time for the work of demarcation.”

This seemed clear and business-like enough. Mr. White pointed out to

Government that, with winter coming on, it would be impossible to

commence demarcation before May the 1st in the following year, so there

was plenty of time in which to make all preliminary arrangements. He

also said that the Chinese deputy was an official whom he had met at

Yatung, and who had been most courteous to him. And the Commissioner and

Bengal Government agreed that the Tibetan objection to British officers

travelling within the Tibetan borders might be respected, and that it

would be sufficient to erect pillars at the passes, which could be

approached from the Sikkim side. So the Viceroy replied, in December,

that he thought a start should be made any time between May 1 and July

1; that Mr. White had been deputed for the purpose, and would meet the

other deputies at whatever point on the frontier might be convenient;

and would be strictly enjoined not to travel on the Tibetan side of the

boundary, as it would be sufficient if boundary pillars were erected at

the passes which can be approached from the Sikkim side.

The Amban replied on January 13, 1895, that he had sent orders to the

deputies “to hold themselves in readiness to commence work at the time

suggested by the Viceroy,” and he suggested that the respective officers

should “come together at Yatung, where they can decide upon the best

place for beginning operations, and where the three parties (Indian,

Chinese, and Tibetan) can agree upon a date for starting together on the

work of demarcation.”

* * * * *

Everything was then carefully and deliberately arranged, and there

seemed good prospect of a settlement of the frontier; but when, in the

following May, Mr. White approached the frontier to meet the Chinese

deputy, in accordance with an arrangement they had made between them, he

was met by a letter, written by direction of the deputy, and stating

that the Lamas were obstinate in their refusal to supply transport, and

that he was much disturbed at his failure to keep his appointment, but

had laid his difficulties before the Amban. On May 19 Mr. White and the

Chinese Major met—a different one from the deputy originally appointed,

for the latter had since died. He asked for more delay, but Mr. White

refused, as he had already been kept waiting with his escort at

inclement altitudes, and Mr. White and he fixed the site of the pillar

on the Jelap-la (pass), which is a spot where the site of the watershed

forming the boundary, according to treaty, is quite unmistakable, as it

runs along a very sharply-defined ridge. Mr. White erected a pillar

here, and arranged with the Chinese deputy to meet him at another pass,

the Dokala, on June 1, while Mr. White should in the interval erect a

pillar at the Donchukla, to be afterwards inspected by the Chinese.

At this time Mr. White also received a letter from the Amban, saying

that a day for the beginning of the work having been decided upon, it

was, of course, proper that a commencement should be made on that day,

and he had already received the consent of the Tibetan State Council to

that end. But the Lamas of the three great monasteries, the Amban

proceeded to explain, were still full of suspicion, and were pressing

certain matters upon him, which made it necessary for him to enlighten

them further.

He therefore requested Mr. White kindly to postpone commencing work for

a time, in order to avoid trouble on this point. But Mr. White replied

that his letter had arrived too late, as the work of demarcation had

already commenced before its receipt, and he urged Government to grant

no further delay, for the Chinese had had five years since the treaty

was signed within which to settle with the Tibetans.

The Government of India, however, thought that no serious inconvenience

had apparently arisen through the frontier being undemarcated, and that

if the Chinese delegate failed to meet him at the Dokala on or about

June 1, he should write to the Chinese Resident, explaining that he had

proceeded so far under arrangements with the Chinese deputies at the

Jelap-la; but as they had not joined him, he would return to Gantok. He

was further to ask the Resident whether work could be jointly proceeded

with that season, and giving latest dates for recommencement.

* * * * *