This is all we got after waiting for him for fifteen months. I replied,

informing him of the circumstances of the Guru fight, and telling him

that I was advancing on Gyantse, which I expected to reach in about a

week, and I hoped that I should then have the pleasure of meeting him

and a high Tibetan official with the power to make a settlement which

would prevent any further useless bloodshed.

On the way to Gyantse, at the Tsamdang Gorge, the Tibetans again opposed

our progress by building a wall across the narrow passage. But General

Macdonald dislodged them and inflicted heavy loss, and on April 11 we

arrived at Gyantse.

We found the valley covered with well-built hamlets and numerous trees

and plenty of cultivation. Most of the inhabitants had fled, but the

jong, or fort, which stands on an eminence in the middle of the valley,

was still partially occupied. The Commandant was informed that General

Macdonald proposed to occupy the jong on the following morning, and

would expect to find it vacated by 9 a.m. On the morning of the 12th we

found that the troops had been withdrawn, and the jong was occupied

without opposition.

So ended another phase of the enterprise, and on April 14 the Viceroy

telegraphed, offering to myself, General Macdonald, and to all the

officers and men of the Mission escort, both civil and military, his

warmest congratulations upon the success of the first part of our

undertaking, and his grateful recognition of the cheerfulness,

self-restraint, and endurance exhibited by all ranks in circumstances

unexampled in warfare, and calling for no ordinary patience and

fortitude.

-----

Footnote 27:

See p. 63.

-----

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

CHAPTER XIII

GYANTSE

Gyantse, which had been our goal for so many months, and with which we

were to be but too well acquainted before we had finished, has two

principal features—the jong and the monastery, called Palkhor Choide.

The jong is a really imposing structure built of strong, solid masonry,

and rising in tiers of walls up a rocky eminence springing abruptly out

of the plain to a height of 400 or 500 feet. It has a most commanding

and dominant look. And the monastery immediately adjoining it at a part

of the base of the hill is also impressive from the height and solidity

of the walls with which it is surrounded, and by the massiveness of the

buildings within the walls.[28]

The town itself was not of much importance, nor so promising as a

trading-mart as I had hoped. It lay at the foot of the jong, and the

bazaar did not possess shops of any size. The real population, indeed,

seemed to be scattered in the numerous hamlets dotted all over the

valley, through which ran a considerable river.

The demeanour of the inhabitants was respectful. They brought in

supplies for sale, and in a few days a regular bazaar was established by

the Tibetans immediately outside our camp, the bartering being carried

on, as usual, mostly by women. The people said they had not the

slightest wish to fight us, and only desired to escape being

commandeered by the Lhasa authorities. The valley proved to be very

fertile, with cultivation all down it, and supplies were plentiful.

Gyantse was indeed a delightful change from Tuna. It was, in the first

place, nearly 2,000 feet lower, so naturally warmer. In addition, spring

was coming on. Leaf-buds were beginning to sprout on the willows. The

little irises in plenty were appearing. And birds of several rare

varieties came to rejoice Captain Walton’s heart and fill his

collection.

Captain O’Connor, Captain Ryder, and Mr. Hayden rode down the Shigatse

road to Dongtse and visited its monastery, besides other houses and

estates of note in the valley. They found the people everywhere friendly

and very different from what they would have been on the north-west

frontier, for instance, under similar circumstances. The peasants were

ploughing and sowing their fields, and the whole country appeared

perfectly contented and quiet.

From the rear, too, came encouraging tidings. I received a letter from

the Dharm Raja, of Bhutan, saying that when he heard that his friends

had won a victory he was greatly rejoiced, for nowadays England and

Bhutan had established a firm friendship, and he hoped that there would

always be firm faith and friendship between the English and Bhutanese.

Yet, with all this ease and quiet, there was not the slightest real sign

of the business of negotiation being commenced. I had naturally expected

that, when the Resident had been specially deputed by the Chinese

Government for these negotiations sixteen months previously, I should

have found him at Gyantse, or at any rate on his way there, and that,

after the Chinese Government had been urging the Tibetans since the

previous summer to send a properly empowered delegate, the Resident

would have been accompanied by a Tibetan Commissioner capable of

negotiating with me. But on April 22 I received a despatch from the

Resident, stating, indeed, his intention of arriving at Gyantse before

May 12, but giving no news that a proper Tibetan Commissioner had been

appointed. He stated that the Lhasa General had been the aggressor in

the fight at Guru, that the fault was on the side of the Tibetans, who

had disregarded his advice, and he recognized our compassion in having

magnanimously released the foolish and ignorant prisoners, cared for the

wounded, and shown humane motives of sternness and mercy. He added that

the Dalai Lama was now aroused to a sense of our power. But still there

was no mention that the transport which the Resident was “insisting on”

had been provided, and the appointment of a proper Tibetan Commissioner

was still not made. In fact, the Councillors had all been imprisoned by

the Dalai Lama, and there were “but few capable Tibetan officials to

settle the frontier and other important questions,” which could not,

added the Resident, “be disposed of in a peremptory manner.” A few days’

delay would not, therefore, he considered, be out of place.

Three days later he wrote that in this matter of proceeding to meet me

he had exhausted himself in talking with the Tibetans, and trusted I

would perceive something of the difficult nature of the circumstances.

And on April 29 he wrote that he had received a reply from the Dalai

Lama about some representations I had made against monks taking part in

the fighting, but in this reply not a word was mentioned about his

transport or any other matters.

In these circumstances I telegraphed to Government on April 22 that the

best way to meet these dilatory tactics was, at the earliest moment by

which military preparations could be completed, to move the Mission

straight to Lhasa, and carry on the negotiations at the capital, instead

of halfway. This, I said, would be the most effective and only permanent

way of clinching matters, besides being the cheapest and quickest. Our

prestige, I urged, was then at its height, Nepal and Bhutan were with

us, the people were not against us, the Tibetan soldiers did not care to

fight, the Lamas were stunned. By a decisive move then a permanent

settlement could be procured. I added that, in recommending this

proposal at so early a stage for the consideration of Government, my

object was that the favourable season might be utilized to the full, and

that we might not allow the psychological moment to pass without taking

advantage of it. Meanwhile, I said, I would receive the Amban, and would

ascertain what power to effect a settlement he and the Tibetan

representative really possessed.

In making this recommendation I was counting on a collapse of the Lhasa

authorities, which seemed to be indicated by the Resident’s statement,

by the statement of a Chinese official from Lhasa that Tibetan officers

were begging the Resident to intercede, by the fact that the common

people even, it was said, at Lhasa did not resent our presence, that

there were few troops between Gyantse and Lhasa, and that the Lhasa

authorities had been able to produce only 5,000 men to oppose our

advance as far as Gyantse.

Whether this collapse would have taken place if we had then set about

advancing to Lhasa it is impossible to say. Certainly it did not take

place. But this may have been due to the retirement of General Macdonald

with the greater part of the force which now took place, in accordance

with the plan prearranged between us of leaving the Mission with a good

strong escort to conduct negotiations while the bulk of the force

remained in support in Chumbi, where supplies were more readily

available. This, from a supply point of view, was desirable, and it was

in accordance with the policy of Government, but it may have had the

effect of re-arousing the Tibetans.

Anyhow, rumours soon began to reach me that Tibetan forces were

collecting again. On the 24th came news that they were building walls

across the road at the Karo-la (pass) on the way to Lhasa, that camps

holding 700 or 800 Tibetans had been established there, that the Dalai

Lama was endeavouring to gain time to enlist Tibetans from far and wide

to resist a British advance to Lhasa, and that the local soldiers round

Gyantse were, under his orders, quietly leaving and proceeding towards

Lhasa.

To ascertain the truth of these rumours, Colonel Brander, who was now in

command of the Mission escort of 500 men, two guns and two Maxims, and

some mounted infantry, on April 28 sent out a reconnaissance party of

one company of mounted infantry to the Karo-la; and on May 1 we received

news from Captain Hodgson, commanding the party, that he had advanced

with his mounted infantry across the pass, and three miles beyond had

found the Tibetans in occupation of a wall, some 600 yards long, built

across the valley. The Tibetans, estimated at from 1,000 to 1,500 in

number, opened a heavy fire on the mounted infantry at about 300 yards’

distance. Our men then retired steadily, firing only a few shots and

returned towards Gyantse.

Besides the definite information thus acquired, reports also reached me

that other troops were assembling in the Rong Valley, ready to support

those on the Lhasa road, and that there was a large gathering, estimated

at 4,000, assembled at Shigatse itself, a portion of which was to move

up to Dongtse, twelve miles from Gyantse.

Colonel Brander now came to me and asked for leave to go out and attack

the Tibetans before these gatherings could come to a head. He had much

frontier experience, and I also had some, and we both of us knew that

when such gatherings take place it is a pretty sound general principle

to take the initiative, and hit hard at them before they have time to

accumulate overwhelming strength. It was a bold move, he contemplated,

for the Karo-la (pass) was forty-five miles distant, and was over 16,000

feet high; and while he was away with two-thirds of the escort, the

Mission, with only one-third of its full escort, might be itself

attacked. I said that if he, on his side, did not mind taking this risk,

I, on my side, did not mind it, and, as far as my military opinion was

worth anything, was quite in favour of the operation.

But it was on political grounds that I had to give the decision, and on

those grounds I had no objection. I had come to negotiate, but there was

no symptom of negotiators appearing. On the other hand, the Tibetans

were still further massing their troops; their position at the Karo-la

and between there and Kangma was threatening our line of communication;

and they had fired on our reconnoitring party. For these reasons I

informed Government by telegram on May 2 that I had raised no objection

on political grounds to Colonel Brander’s proposal to go out and attack

the Tibetans on the pass before they could attack our line of

communication. I had stated, verbally and in writing, to the Chinese and

to the Tibetans that we came to Gyantse to negotiate. Since our arrival

we had evacuated the jong, and General Macdonald, with the greater part

of the force, had returned to Chumbi. There could be no question, then,

that we meant to negotiate and not to fight. Yet they still neither sent

a negotiator, nor said they had any intention to negotiate; instead they

massed troops to attack us; and I felt at perfect liberty to let the

commander of the Mission escort take whatever means he liked to secure

its safety.

On the same day, in view of the rumours of the hostile attitude of the

Tibetans towards Shigatse and of their reinforcement by local levies, I

placed the Gyantse Jongpen in custody in the British camp.

Colonel Brander set out on May 3, with three companies of the 32nd

Pioneers, one company 8th Gurkhas, two 7-pounder guns and two Maxims,

accompanied by Mr. Wilton and Captain O’Connor, to assist him in case

Chinese or Tibetan officials were met with.

On May 4 Captain Walton’s patients warned him that some kind of attack

on us at Gyantse was likely, and Major Murray, 8th Gurkhas, who was in

command during Colonel Brander’s absence, sent out a mounted patrol some

miles down the Shigatse road; but they returned, reporting everything

quiet.

At dawn the next morning the storm burst. I was suddenly awaked by shots

and loud booing close by my tent. I dashed out, and there were Tibetans

firing through our own loopholes only a few yards off. From the Shigatse

direction a force of 800 men had marched all night, and many, under

cover of the darkness, had crept up under the walls of our post. Then at

dawn these suddenly jumped up, and, supported by the remainder, made an

attempt to rush our post, a substantial house with a garden at one side,

the wall of which we had loopholed. In the first critical moment they

almost succeeded. They as nearly as possible forced an entrance, but

were stoutly held at bay by two gallant little Gurkha sentries till our

men turned out. Then, as at Guru, once the single favourable moment had

flashed by, nothing but disaster lay before them. The attack began at

about 4.30, and did not cease till nearly 6.30, but in that time they

had left about 250 dead and wounded round our post.

Personally, I did not deserve to get through the attack unscathed, for

directly I was out of my tent I made straight for the Mission

rendezvous. I was in my pyjamas, and only half awake, and the first

thought that struck me was to go to the rendezvous, agreed upon

beforehand, in what we called the citadel. But I ought, as I did on

other occasions—and as I think always should be done in cases of any

sudden attack—to have made straight for the wall with whatever weapon

came to hand, and joined in repelling the attack during the few crucial

moments.

Major Murray, as soon as he had repelled the attack, pursued the enemy

for about two miles down the Shigatse road. But it now became evident

that this attacking party was not the only force of Tibetans in the

neighbourhood, and that another of similar strength had occupied the

jong, for these latter began firing into our post, and we gradually came

to realize that we were now besieged.

It turned out from information received from prisoners that these troops

had been collected by a General recently appointed by the Lhasa

Government, and that it was accompanied by a representative of the great

Gaden monastery at Lhasa, by two clerks of the Dalai Lama, and by other

Lhasa officials. It was, therefore, no mere local rising, but an attack

deliberately planned by the Central Tibetan Government.

For a few days, till Colonel Brander returned, we were in a critical

position, and we were also anxious about Colonel Brander himself. The

worst that, in making our calculations at Darjiling in November, we had

deemed likely to happen had happened, and we were now at the

straining-point. Major Murray, assisted especially by Captain Ryder with

his engineering experience, strengthened the post as far as possible

during the day, and at night we looked out watchfully for a further

attack. For it was at night, when our long-range rifles lost their

special advantage, that the Tibetans would have their best chance. We

only had 170 men, and the vastly superior numbers which the Tibetans

were now collecting ought to have had a fair chance of overwhelming us

if they had pressed home a well-planned night attack. They fired a good

deal during this and the following nights, but we kept a good watch, and

we heard afterwards that the Lamas tried to organize a second attack on

us, but the men refused to turn out.

It was an intense relief to me to hear on the 7th that Colonel Brander

had been successful in clearing the gathering at the Karo-la, which

consisted of 2,500 men, armed with numerous Lhasa-made and foreign

rifles, and headed by many influential Lamas and officials from Lhasa.

In a short note to me he told me of the anxious moments he had passed

when, on the early morning before he made his attack, he received a

letter from me saying that the Mission had been attacked at Gyantse. The

Tibetans were in a very strong position behind a loopholed wall of great

solidity, and 800 yards long, which they had built right across the

pass; and to attack such a position at a height of over 16,000 feet

above sea-level, surrounded with glaciers, with only a sixth of the

numbers opposed to him, and with his communications not over safe

behind, Colonel Brander had in truth to set his teeth and steel his

nerves. His frontal attack failed. Poor Bethune, a typically steady,

reliable and lion-hearted officer was killed. The guns proved absolutely

ineffective. Ammunition was none too plentiful. And Colonel Brander said

in his letter to me that he was on the point of despairing when, just at

the critical moment, the turning movement of the Gurkhas, under Major

Row, who had slowly scrambled up to a height of 18,000 feet, proved

successful. Panic took the Tibetans. They first began dribbling away

from the wall, then poured away in torrents. Colonel Brander hurled his

mounted infantry at them, and Captain Ottley pursued them halfway to

Lhasa.

It was a plucky and daring little action, and unique of its kind in the

annals of any nation; for never before had fighting taken place at

altitudes well over the summit of Mont Blanc. I was indeed relieved to

hear of its brilliant success, and late at night on the 7th—that is, the

very day after the fight—to welcome back Captain O’Connor, Mr. Perceval

Landon, and the indefatigable Captain Ottley, with his dashing mounted

infantry, already the terror of the Tibetans. They had made a bold dash

back ahead of Colonel Brander, and on the very next morning Captain

Ottley was to show the Tibetans who were investing us the difference

which his presence made.

A party of Tibetan horsemen were seen from our post sauntering

unsuspectingly along the valley, out of reach of our rifles, but not out

of reach of our mounted infantry, twenty of whom, under Captain Ottley,

now dashed out of our post in pursuit. The Tibetans galloped up a side

valley; Captain Ottley galloped after them; and now we saw a great body

of Tibetan horsemen issue from the jong to cut him off. I held my breath

in suspense, fearing he would not see the party behind in his eager

pursuit of the party in front. But Captain Ottley was not to be so

easily caught. He suddenly wheeled on to some rising ground, dismounted

his men as quick as lightning, and was blazing away at _both_ parties

before they could realize what had happened. In a moment several

Tibetans dropped, and the remainder scuttled away as fast as they could.

All this put fresh spirit into our men, for we had had three days and

nights of considerable strain; and on the day following Colonel Brander

himself with his column returned safely to camp, and arrangements were

at once made to harry the garrison of the jong with rifle and Maxim

fire.

We now heard full details of the Karo-la fight. It appears that the

Tibetans engaged were mostly drawn from the districts of South-Eastern

Tibet. They were commanded by a layman and a monk official, and had been

organized by a monk State Councillor and another high ecclesiastical

official who had been stationed for some time at Nagartse.

Representatives of the three great Lhasa monasteries were at the fight,

and each monk had been provided by the Lhasa Government with a matchlock

and a knife before starting to join the army.

On the morning of the 10th we buried the remains of poor Bethune, and it

was my melancholy duty to read the Burial Service over one whom I had

known since the Relief of Chitral, whose genial, manly nature attached

him to every one of us, and for whose soldierly qualities all had the

highest admiration. He was a grand type of British officer, strict and

thorough in his duties, yet beloved by his men, and his loss was

severely felt in the days that were upon us.

Colonel Brander now reconnoitred the jong to see if it was possible to

capture it. He came to the conclusion that an attack was too much to

undertake. Our two 7-pounder guns were useless, though they had been

brought up specially for this purpose, and our force was too small to

carry the place by assault. It will naturally be asked why, when the

jong was evacuated on our first arrival, we were not now occupying it

instead of a house in the plain. General Macdonald had several excellent

reasons for not establishing the Mission with escort in the jong. It was

too far from a water-supply; and it was too big to hold. The post he

chose was compact and on the river. Here he placed us, with ample

supplies to last us till relief could arrive if we were attacked. As I

have said, the worst that could happen did happen, and we held out till

reinforcements came.

But Colonel Brander, though he could not attack the jong, did not allow

himself to be simply invested in his post. He constantly sallied out to

clear villages, and demolish any within the vicinity of our post; he

maintained a mounted dak service to the rear, and in every way

endeavoured to keep as much in the ascendant as was possible in the

circumstances.

An important stage had now been reached. The Government of India on May

14 telegraphed to me that His Majesty’s Government agreed with them that

recent events made it inevitable that the Mission should advance to

Lhasa, unless the Tibetans consented to open negotiations at Gyantse. I

was, therefore, to give notice to the Amban that we should insist on

negotiating at Lhasa itself if no competent negotiator appeared in

conjunction with him at Gyantse within a month.

This was satisfactory to a certain degree, but I was disappointed to

have to be still further talking about negotiations when we had been

wantonly attacked, when we were now actually invested, and when the

Lamas were gathering yet more forces around us. Any mention of

negotiating in such circumstances would only lead them to believe we

feared them, and it was with much reluctance that I eventually gave this

message. But the Government had to contend with many difficulties. They

were in the face of a strong opposition in the House of Commons. There

was no enthusiasm for the enterprise in the country. We had only

recently emerged from the South African War. The Russo-Japanese War was

causing anxiety. And we had not yet concluded the agreement and formed

the _Entente Cordiale_ with France.

General Macdonald was meanwhile making every preparation in Chumbi for

supporting the Mission escort and eventually advancing to Lhasa; and he

had many difficulties of his own to contend with, through an outbreak of

cholera, and through the heavy rains causing many breaches in the road

in Sikkim. Supplies, munitions, and transport, had to be laboriously

collected, and progress was necessarily slow. But on May 24 strong

reinforcements reached Gyantse, and were a most welcome addition to our

strength, enabling Colonel Brander to assume a more active attitude.

They consisted of two 10-pounder guns of the British mountain battery,

under Lieutenant Easton, a company of native sappers and miners, 50

Sikhs, and 20 mounted infantry.

Our little garrison was strengthened, too, by the arrival of Captain

Sheppard, Royal Engineers, who, of all the officers I saw during the

Mission, struck me as being the most likely to rise to the very highest

position in the service. His energy, his never-failing cheerfulness, his

daring, and his general ability, were altogether exceptional. He was the

champion racquet-player in the army, and he was already known on

north-western frontier campaigns for his bravery. Here he added daily to

his reputation, and he and Captain Ottley were the two whom I, as an

onlooker—seeing a good deal, if not always most, of the game—singled out

to myself as having in them the surest signs of military genius. In a

military career so much depends on chance that these two may very

possibly sink down to the usual humdrum respectable commander or staff

officer. But I will stake my reputation as a prophet that, if the chance

ever does come to either of them before routine and examinations have

quenched their burning vitality, they will make a mark like Lord Roberts

or like the daring Hodson of Hodson’s Horse.

Here I must in a brief parenthesis criticize some remarks I heard Mr.

Roosevelt, for whom otherwise I have the greatest admiration, make to

the Cambridge University Union Society. He said that in public life and

in the army geniuses were not wanted, but that what was required were

average men with the ordinary qualities developed by the men themselves

to an extraordinary degree. In this I most profoundly disagree. It is

not the ordinary average man, however much he may develop his

mediocrity, that is most wanted. It is the exceptional man. It is the

man with just that touch which we cannot possibly define, but which we

all instinctively recognize as genius. There is a superabundance of

ordinary men, and it must be admitted that they do ordinary work very

much better than geniuses. But it is the genius alone who, when the

occasion arises, will flash a ray through these masses of ordinary men,

and make them do what they would never do with any amount of development

of their ordinary plodding qualities. And it is of the highest

importance to find out these exceptional men. But the way to do this is

not by examinations—unless those who are least capable of passing them

are chosen. It is by letting the best select the best, by letting the

proved best select whom _they_ think promise best.

All this, however, is by way of interlude, and is merely one of the many

reflections I made while I was myself under enforced inactivity, and had

nothing much else to do but watch the action of those others upon whom

the responsibility for the time being rested.

With his reinforcements Colonel Brander now took the offensive in

earnest, and on May 26 attacked the strongly-built village of Palla,

which was only 1,100 yards, from our post, and which the Tibetans were

holding in strength, and connecting with the jong by a wall. In the dead

of night, in utter darkness, the attacking party assembled. All of us

who were to remain behind went up to the roof to watch the result. The

column moved noiselessly out from our post. A long silence followed.

Then a few sharp rifle cracks rang out, and soon from the jong and from

the Palla village there was a continuous crackle, with sharp spurts of

flame lighting the darkness. Soon after a great explosion was heard,

followed by a deadly silence. What had happened we heard afterwards.

Captain Sheppard, accompanied by Captain O’Connor, had dashed up to the

wall of one of the principal houses in the village, and after shooting

two Tibetans with his revolver, placed a charge of gun-cotton, lighted a

fuse, and dashed back again to cover. The explosion was the result, and

a big breach had been made. Captain OO’CConnor had then, with his cake

of gun-cotton, rushed into another house and successfully fired it.

Lieutenant Garstin and Lieutenant Walker in another place tried to make

a similar breach, but the fuse did not act, and in making a second

attempt the former was killed, while Captain O’Connor also was severely

wounded.

This blowing up of houses crammed full of armed men is indeed a

desperate undertaking, but except by this method of deliberately rushing

up and placing a charge under manned walls, and firing the charge, there

was no means of getting in, and Sheppard, Garstin, Walker, and O’Connor

deserve all the honour that is due to the bravest of military actions.

Breaches had been made, but the village had yet to be stormed, and Major

Peterson, with his Sikh Pioneers, as soon as it was light, gallantly

stormed house after house, while Colonel Brander supported him with the

guns on the hillside a few hundred yards off. The Tibetans fought

stubbornly, as they always did in these villages, but Major Peterson

pressed steadily on, and by 1.30 the village was in Colonel Brander’s

hands.

Our losses were, besides Lieutenant Garstin, Royal Engineers killed,

Captain O’Connor, Lieutenant Mitchell, 32nd Pioneers, Lieutenant Walker,

Royal Engineers, and nine men wounded. It was a heavy casualty list for

our little garrison to sustain, but the capture of the village was a

great shock to the Tibetans, who till then, according to a Chinaman whom

Mr. Wilton met when accompanying one of our sorties, had become very

truculent, and talked of first attacking us and cutting all our throats,

and then murdering all Chinese.

The Palla village was occupied by our troops, and at 1.30 on the morning

of May 30 the Tibetans, who had for long been trying to screw themselves

up for an attack upon us, attacked both this and a Gurkha outpost we had

established. It was a beautiful sight to watch, with the jong keeping up

a heavy fire on us, and the houses at the foot of the jong firing away

hard on the village. But the Tibetans were easily repulsed, for Colonel

Brander had been careful to fortify the place well, and the Tibetans

after this never ventured to take the offensive against us, and the tide

now definitely began to turn.

I therefore now with less reluctance wrote letters to the Resident and

Dalai Lama, saying that we were ready to negotiate at Gyantse up to June

25, but that unless by that date the Resident and competent negotiators

had arrived, we would insist upon negotiations being carried on at

Lhasa. The letters, together with a covering letter to the Tibetan

commander in the jong, were sent by the hands of prisoners. Before

undertaking their delivery, however, the bearers stipulated that they

should be allowed to return to us as prisoners, which was a significant

commentary on the method of enlistment of the Tibetan forces opposing

us. The next morning the letters were returned by the Tibetan General,

who said that it was not their custom to receive communications from the

English.

On the afternoon of June 5 I received instructions from the Government

of India to proceed to Chumbi, to confer with General Macdonald as to

future plans. We had to a certain degree kept open our communications.

Still, there were Tibetans all about, and it was a somewhat unusual, and

certainly risky, proceeding for the chief of the Mission to have to ride

150 miles down the lines to consult the military commander. However, I

was glad enough of the change from the monotony of our investment at

Gyantse, and at four the next morning, while it was still dark, I rode

out with an escort of forty mounted infantry, under Major Murray, and

accompanied by that gallant doctor of the 8th Gurkhas, Dr. Franklin. We

gave a wide berth to the Niani monastery, and arrived safely at Kangma,

our first fortified post, forty miles distant, where Captain Pearson, of

the 23rd Pioneers, was in command with about 100 men.

All was quiet here, and the post had never so far been attacked, owing

probably to the effect of Colonel Brander’s action on the Karo-la, from

which a route led direct to this place. I had risen at 4.30 the next

morning to make an early start, and was just dressed when I heard that

peculiar jackal-like yell which the Tibetans had used when they made

their attacks at Gyantse. I instantly dashed on to the roof, and there,

sure enough, was a mob of about 300 of them weighing down upon the post,

and before our men were out they were right up to the walls, hurling

stones and firing at me up on the roof, which was flat, and from which I

could not for the moment find a way down. We all, dressed or undressed,

dashed up to the walls, seizing the first rifles we could find, and

firing away as hard as we could. And here again the Tibetans just lost

their opportunity. As before, in a moment it was gone, and they suffered

terribly for their want of military acumen. Sixty or seventy were

killed, and the rest drew off up the mountains.

But this was not the only body of Tibetans about. While these were

making the direct attack, two other bodies of 400 men each had appeared,

all of them Kham men, the best fighters in Tibet. One party went up the

valley and the other down, to cut off our retreat on either hand. This

was a great strategical effort on the part of the Tibetan commander, but

it failed, because as soon as the attack on our post was repulsed Major

Murray sallied forth, and in turn attacked the other Tibetan parties,

climbing the hillside and sending them helter-skelter over the

mountains.

Then we had some breakfast, and I proceeded on my way to Chumbi. It was

twenty-eight miles to the next stage, at Kala Tso, and there was

considerable risk of encountering Tibetans on the way; but I argued that

there was less risk immediately after a repulse than there might be a

day or two later. So I set out with twenty mounted infantry, Major

Murray and his men having to return to Gyantse. At Kala Tso I was

welcomed by my old friends the 23rd Pioneers, under Colonel Hogge, who

had been our escort at Tuna during all that terrible winter.

I now replied to a telegram I had received in the morning from

Government, asking me to communicate my views on the general situation

by telegram, as they wished to have them as soon as possible. I said,

with reference to the contention which had been made by the military

authorities that it would be impossible to keep troops at Lhasa after

the autumn, that in my opinion “an effort should be made to quarter

troops at Lhasa for the winter, for if we retired to Chumbi in November,

we risked the loss of all the results of our present efforts, and the

Tibetans would be still more obstructive.” I computed that the Lhasa and

Gyantse valleys would support 1,000 men each. I hoped that while the

ample forces now being sent would break down opposition during the

summer months, it would be possible to keep in Lhasa a garrison, like

that then at Gyantse, capable of holding its own for a whole winter. I

added that if it was the case, as the military said, that troops could

not be maintained in Lhasa during the winter, I had better not go to

Lhasa at all, for there was little use in my commencing negotiations

with two such obstructive people as the Tibetans and Chinese in any

place where I could not stay a full year, if necessary. I had been

eleven months trying even to begin negotiations. I should be quite

unable to complete them in two or three months, especially if the

Chinese and Tibetans knew we intended to leave before the winter.

The substance of this telegram I still think was perfectly sound, but

its tone I do not now in cold blood seek to defend. I must confess that

during all this Gyantse period I was not so steady and imperturbable as

an agent should be. Perhaps the prolonged stay at very high altitudes

was beginning to tell, for even Gyantse was over 13,000 feet. Perhaps it

was the greater realization that nothing ever would be effected short of

Lhasa, and that this playing about at Khamba Jong, at Tuna, and at

Gyantse was merely for the benefit of the distant British elector. Or it

may have been the difficulty of reconciling military with political

considerations. Or possibly it was reading in the newspapers now

arriving from England the accusations of cruelty, injustice, and

oppression which were being publicly brought against the Mission, and

the prophecies of disaster, such as befell Cavagnari, which were to come

on us also. Whatever it was, I certainly became very restive, and now

earned a rebuff from the Government of India, which only made me worse,

and determined me to give up the whole business. It seemed so easy to

carry through if we only went straight at it, so utterly impossible when

in England they were only half-hearted. I see now that I ought to have

gone stolidly and cheerily on, for Governments, too, have innumerable

difficulties of their own. Still, this was not easy at the time.

It was tolerably certain a fortnight after my arrival at Gyantse that

the Tibetans did not seriously mean to negotiate, and if we had to go to

Lhasa, it was urgently necessary to make early preparations for an

advance, so that another whole summer might not pass away without

result. Yet I was undoubtedly premature in breathing the word Lhasa so

early as the end of April. It was clear to me that if we wished to make

a well-thought-out, complete, and lasting settlement with the Tibetans

and the Chinese combined, and if we wished—what I always regarded as

much more important than any paper settlement, and as our real object in

going to Tibet—the establishment of a good feeling between ourselves and

the Tibetans, we must not only go to Lhasa, but be able to stay there

for an ample period. Yet when I stated this opinion to Government, I

should, I acknowledge, have given it in a less brusque way than I did in

the telegram I have quoted.

I had this much in excuse. I had, as I have related, at dawn on the day

I sent that telegram, and before having had my breakfast, been attacked

by the Tibetans, and had myself to fight with a rifle in my hand. I had

had, after breakfast, to ride nearly thirty miles with the constant risk

of further attack on the way. I had had to do all this after being

cooped up for a month in a house without being able to stir outside it.

I had therefore to compose and cipher my telegram when I was physically

exhausted and depressed in spirit. I knew that military considerations,

and Imperial considerations, and international considerations, and every

other consideration which hampers action, were dead against my proposal,

and I was not in the mood to be respectful towards them. Still, I was

ill-advised to let my telegram have the slightest tinge of brusqueness

in it. If I wanted to get the thing done, I should have preserved that

marvellous imperturbability and cheery good sense which, from the

Strangers’ Gallery, I have so frequently admired in British Ministers in

the House of Commons. All this I note for the benefit of future leaders

of unpopular Missions. For the effect of my telegram was not to further

the object I had in view—the making of all preparations for keeping the

Mission at Lhasa for the winter, if need be. It merely earned for me a

reprimand from Government, who telegraphed back on June 14 that they

found it necessary to remind me that any definite proposals I made for

their consideration should be, as far as possible, in conformity with

the orders and present policy of His Majesty’s Government; and I was to

remember that the policy of His Majesty’s Government was based on

considerations of international relations wider than the mere relations

between India and Tibet, which were not only beyond my purview, but also

beyond the purview of the Government of India. They expected me,

therefore, to do my utmost to carry out the present plans until there

was unquestionable proof that they were impracticable. It was

impossible, I was told, to argue the political necessity for remaining

at Lhasa during the winter until I had arrived there and gauged the

situation; and the military objections were great and obvious.

My reply to this is not published, so I will not quote it. I will only

say that I pretty well despaired of getting this business through. Lord

Curzon was away in England, and evidently now military, and not

political, considerations were having the upper hand. I knew about the

“international relations” and the “wider view,” for copies of all the

important despatches to our Ambassadors were sent to me. But there were

dozens and scores of men to represent those “wider” views, which need

not, as is so often imagined, be wiser simply because they are wider,

whereas there was only one person, and that was myself, to represent the

narrower view, but which, because it was local, need not be inferior or

less important.

The narrow local point of view was, then, that for thirty years

continuously we in India had been trying to settle a trumpery affair of

trade and boundary with a semi-barbarous people on our frontier, and

time after time we had been put off by these “considerations of

international relations wider than the mere relations between India and

Tibet.” But now we had the chance of a century of settling this business

once and for all. We had, after years of negotiations and

correspondence, made our effort. We had taken immense trouble and gone

to great expense. And all I wished to do was to represent from my

restricted point of view that I ought to have plenty of time to make the

most of this opportunity. I should have represented my views in less

provocative language, I admit; but the main contention was, I am sure,

sound, and it would have been better now if it had been acted on. If I

had not been rushed at Lhasa, but had had plenty of time to gauge and

report the situation there, and to receive the orders of Government on

any modifications which might be suggested by the circumstances, I

should have been able to conclude with both the Chinese and Tibetans a

treaty which my own Government as well as they would have accepted.

* * * * *

The Russian Government now began again to refer to Tibetan affairs. On

April 13 Lord Lansdowne had assured the Russian Ambassador[29] that

“nothing had happened to modify the objects with which we had originally

determined to send Colonel Younghusband’s Mission into Tibetan

territory.” And on June 2,[30] the Ambassador having on several

occasions expressed a hope that our policy towards Tibet would not be

altered by recent events, Lord Lansdowne informed him in writing that,

in sanctioning the advance of the Mission to Gyantse, they announced to

the Government of India that “they were clearly of opinion that this

step should not be allowed to lead up to the occupation of Tibet, or to

permanent intervention in Tibetan affairs. They stated that the advance

was to be made for the sole purpose of obtaining satisfaction, and that

as soon as reparation had been obtained, withdrawal would be effected.

They added that they were not prepared to establish a permanent mission

in Tibet, and that the question of enforcing trade facilities in that

country was to be considered in the light of this decision.” “I am now

able to tell you,” continued Lord Lansdowne, “that His Majesty’s

Government still adhere to the policy thus described, though it is

obvious that their action must to some extent depend upon the conduct of

the Tibetans themselves, and that His Majesty’s Government cannot

undertake that they will not depart in any eventuality from the policy

which now commends itself to them. They desire, however, to state in the

most emphatic terms that, so long as no other Power endeavours to

intervene in the affairs of Tibet, they would not attempt either to

annex it, to establish a protectorate over it, or in any way to control

its internal administration.”

This, in the sequel, was to be a clinching fetter on the action of the

Indian Government. They still wanted a representative at Lhasa; and in

view of the determined hostility of the Tibetans, they wanted discretion

to occupy the Chumbi Valley as a guarantee for the fulfilment of the

treaty; and when the Russians had permanently stationed thousands of

troops in Manchuria, had constructed railways, built forts, and

established posts, where seventeen years before I had not seen a single

Russian, and when they had Consular representatives all along their

border in Chinese Turkestan and Mongolia, it was hard to see on what

grounds they could have objected to the very mild measures which the

Government of India desired to adopt. In any case, when the Tibetans had

shown, not merely passive obstinacy, but downright hostility, and when,

even though it might be the case that, in the words of Count Lamsdorff

to Sir Charles Hardinge,[31] “the relations between Russia and Tibet

were of a purely religious nature, due solely to the large number of

Russian Buriats who regarded the Dalai Lama as their Pope,” it was clear

that the Tibetans relied on those merely religious relations as a

support against us, the Government of India might have hoped that their

hands would be freed to enable them to definitely settle up this

intrinsically not very important Tibetan affair. But “wider

international considerations” were, as so often happens in Indian

affairs, to tell hardly against the Government of India. Since the

Mission had started into Tibet war between Russia and Japan had broken

out. Our relations with Russia were, consequently, at a very delicate

stage. War was in the air, and statesmen had to be careful. For the sake

of this insignificant business with Tibet, it would be hardly worth

while endangering our relations with Russia, especially when her

adhesion to our arrangement with France in regard to Egypt was required.

Yet when we look at the map at the end of this book, and see how far the

Russian frontier is from Tibet and to what a length our own actually

touches it, and when we remember, too, that there was actually in Lhasa

at this time a Russian subject who had been accustomed to go backwards

and forwards between Lhasa and St. Petersburg, and served therefore all

the purposes required of those religious relations which it was very

natural should subsist between the Dalai Lama and Russian Buddhists, it

does seem hard that the Government of India, now at the climax of all

their efforts, should have been tied down through deference to the

distant Power.

It is a remarkable coincidence, in this connection, that while the

Russians were making protests and representations upon a move of ours

which was not within a thousand miles of their frontier, the Chinese

Vice-Minister, when Sir Ernest Satow informed him[32] that we intended

to advance to Lhasa, received the news with perfect equanimity, raised

no objection, and remarked that the Dalai Lama was ignorant and

pigheaded.

* * * * *

I reached Chumbi on June 10, and spent the next few days in discussing

details of the advance with General Macdonald. The change from the

monotony of the investment at Gyantse and from the barrenness and high

altitude of Tibet was refreshing in the extreme. I met old friends

again: Colonel J. M. Stewart, who had years before relieved me when I

had been arrested by the Russians on the Pamirs; Major Beynon, who had

been Colonel Kelly’s Staff Officer in the Relief of Chitral; and my

brother-in-law, Vernon Magniac, who was to accompany me now as private

secretary, and whose companionship was the greatest relief in the midst

of a host of the usual official worries. The drop from 13,000 feet at

Gyantse to 9,000 feet in Chumbi, and the change from constant risk to

absolute security, all eased the tension on me; and the joy of being

once more amidst luxuriant vegetation, with gorgeous rhododendrons,

dense pine forests, roses, primulas, and all the wealth of Alpine

flowery beauty, was a softening and welcome relaxation.

At Phari, on my way to Chumbi, I had met the Tongsa Penlop, now the

Maharaja of Bhutan, who had recently come to interview General Macdonald

and myself. Mr. Walsh, who had been in political charge of Chumbi, had

interviewed him on June 3, and to him the Tongsa Penlop had admitted the

unreasonableness and folly of the Tibetans, but argued that it was due

to the bad advice of the Councillors, who had, in consequence, all been

put in prison. He said, though, that nothing could be gained by our

going to Lhasa, as the Dalai Lama and the Government would all leave

before our arrival, and we should find no one there with whom to

negotiate. He had written to the Dalai Lama, informing him of what I had

told the Trimpuk Jongpen at Tuna we wanted, and the Dalai Lama had

replied that the Sikkim boundary must be as it was, that no trade-mart

could be established, and that no communication from the Indian

Government could be received by the Tibetan Government. The Tongsa

Penlop added that the rumour in Bhutan was that Mr. Walsh had been

killed at Guru, that I had been killed at Gyantse, and that Russians had

landed at Calcutta, defeated the English, and set up five banners.

This was a somewhat gloomy outlook; still, I was a good deal encouraged

by my interview with the Tongsa Penlop. Mr. Walsh had been able to

dispel many illusions, and at subsequent interviews the Tongsa Penlop

had been a good deal impressed by General Macdonald and Mr. White, the

latter of whom founded a friendship which has had most beneficial

subsequent results.

The Tongsa Penlop I found to be a straight, honest-looking, dignified

man of about forty-seven years of age. He bore himself well, dressed

well, gave me costly presents, and altogether showed himself a man of

importance and authority. He said he was most anxious to effect a

settlement between us and the Tibetans. The latter had been very

obstinate and wrong-headed, but the Dalai Lama was a young man, who

needed good counsellors, and unfortunately there were bad men in Lhasa,

who acted in his name to the detriment of the country. General Macdonald

had told him that we were prepared to receive negotiators up to June 25,

and he (the Tongsa Penlop) had, accordingly, written urgently to the

Tibetans to send a negotiator before that date. Would not I, therefore,

show patience up to then?

[Illustration: THE TONGSA PENLOP (NOW MAHARAJA OF BHUTAN).]

I asked him whether he himself would be inclined to be patient if he had

been attacked four times at night after waiting eleven months for

negotiators to come. He admitted that he would not, and would feel more

inclined to go about killing people; but he said I was the

representative of a great Government, and ought to be more patient than

he would be. I said I had named June 25 as the date up to which I would

receive negotiators, but since then I had been again attacked at Kangma,

and I could not answer for it that the Viceroy would still allow me to

receive negotiators.

I said no Englishman liked killing villagers who were forced from their

homes to fight us. We knew they did not want to fight, and we had no

quarrel with them. But, unfortunately, it seemed impossible to get at

the real instigators of the opposition to us except by fighting, in

which the innocent peasant-soldiers, and not the authors of the trouble,

suffered most. If these latter would only lead their men I would be

better pleased, for then they would appreciate what opposition to the

British Government really meant. The Tongsa Penlop was much amused at

the suggestion, but said the leaders always remained a march behind when

any fighting was likely to take place.

Continuing, I said that, though I had little hope that any settlement

would be arrived at without fighting, yet, fighting or no fighting, I

had to make a settlement some time, and one that would last another

hundred years. If the Tibetans had only been as sensible as the

Bhutanese, and come and talked matters over with me, we could easily

have arrived at a settlement long ago. All we desired was to be on

friendly and neighbourly terms with States like Bhutan and Tibet lying

on our frontier. War, though it could have but one result, gave us much

trouble, which we had no wish unnecessarily to incur. We, therefore,

much preferred peace. I sent my respects to the Dharm Raja, and asked

the Tongsa Penlop to write to me often and give me advice regarding the

settlement with Tibet, and he fervently assured me of the good-will of

the Bhutanese, and said that they would never depart from their

friendship with the British Government.

In this interview I purposely appeared indifferent about receiving

negotiators, for the less anxious I seemed for them to come the more

likely was their arrival. As a fact, when, a fortnight later, there

really were signs of their appearance, I asked Government to agree,

which they readily did, to grant a few days’ grace beyond the 25th to

allow them to come in.

* * * * *

Besides this friendly support from Bhutan on our right, we had also

further evidence at this time of equally friendly, and much more

valuable, support from Nepal on our left. The Nepalese Minister informed

Colonel Ravenshaw that he had received a letter and some presents from

the Dalai Lama, but that he made no allusion to our Mission, which

omission led the Minister to think that the Dalai Lama was kept in

ignorance of what was going on. And this surmise was, I think, perfectly

correct, and represented one of the great difficulties with which we had

to contend. No one dared inform this little god that things were not

going as he would like them, and yet they had to get orders from him,

for they would do nothing without his orders.

The Nepalese Minister, to remove this difficulty, wrote early in June to

the Dalai Lama, expressing his anxiety at “the breach of relations

[between India and Tibet] which had been brought about by the failure of

the Tibetan Government to have the matters in dispute settled by

friendly negotiation.” He referred to the letter which he had written to

the four Councillors in the previous autumn, and he went on: "Wise and

far-seeing as you are, the vast resources of the British Government must

be well known to you. To rush to extremes with such a big Power, and

wantonly to bring calamities upon your poor subjects without having

strong and valid grounds of your own to insist upon, cannot readily be

accepted as a virtuous course or wise policy. Hence it may fairly be

inferred that the detailed circumstances of the pending questions have

not been properly and correctly represented to you." The Minister then

urged the Dalai Lama at once to send a duly authorized Councillor to

meet the British officers, to desist from fighting with the British

Government, and to try his best to bring about a peaceful settlement;

otherwise he saw clearly that great calamities were in store for Tibet.

He concluded by saying that His Holiness was too sacred to be troubled

with mundane affairs, but the present critical condition in Tibet

demanded his utmost foresight, and on him depended the salvation of his

country.

It is melancholy to think that the Dalai Lama paid no heed to this

well-intentioned advice, and then, when calamities had fallen upon his

country and we were just outside Lhasa, fled on the pretext of retiring

into religious seclusion, and left his country to take care of itself.

-----

Footnote 28:

An excellent description of the jong and monastery will be found in

Chapter VII. of Landon’s “Lhasa.”

Footnote 29:

Blue-book, III., p. 1.

Footnote 30:

_Ibid._, p. 15.

Footnote 31:

Blue-book, III., p. 20.

Footnote 32:

Blue-book, III., p. 19.

-----

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

CHAPTER XIV

THE STORMING OF GYANTSE JONG

Strong reinforcements had now come up from India: the remainder of the

mountain battery, under Major Fuller, a wing of the Royal Fusiliers, the

40th Pathans, and the 29th Punjabis; and on June 13 I set out to return

to Gyantse with General Macdonald to relieve the Mission escort at

Gyantse and, if need be, to advance to Lhasa, while Colonel Reid

remained in charge of the communications.

At each post we stopped at the officers in charge invariably reported

that the people were well content with us on account of our liberal

treatment. The villagers themselves were thoroughly friendly. They were

making money by selling their produce at rates very favourable to

themselves. They were only afraid of the officials and Lamas. Captain

Rawling, who had explored in Western Tibet in the previous year, and was

well acquainted with the Tibetans, and who was now stationed at Phari in

charge of a transport corps, specially remarked this. What the people

were now afraid of was not our stopping, but our withdrawing, and

leaving them to the vengeance of the Lamas.

This is a dilemma in which we are constantly being placed on the Indian

frontier. The people of a country into which we advance are often ready

to be friendly with us if they could be certain we would stay and be

able to support them afterwards. But if they know we are going to

withdraw they naturally fight shy, for those who show us friendship

would get into trouble when we left. This is one of the many reasons

which make me favour our keeping up a strong continuous influence when

once we have been compelled to advance into a semi-civilized or

barbarous country. It is often highly inconvenient to have to do this,

but it is the most humane course, and I am not sure that it would be so

inconvenient if it were followed consistently. It need not mean

annexation or petty interference, but it must mean sufficient influence

to prevent relapses to barbarism.

We reached Kangma without incident on June 22, and halted a day while

Colonel Hogge was sent to disperse a body of 1,000 Tibetans who were

holding a sangared position on the road which runs down here from the

Karo-la. While halted I received a telegram from the Tongsa Penlop at

Phari to say that a big Lama and one of the Councillors were coming to

Gyantse, and that a parcel of silk had arrived for me. The Penlop also

said he wished to come himself to see me at Gyantse. Thinking this might

indicate anxiety of the Tibetans to come to terms at last—at literally

the eleventh hour, for there were only two days left up to the expiry of

the time beyond which I had signified that I would no longer be able to

negotiate at Gyantse—I telegraphed to Government, recommending that a

period of five days’ grace, up to June 30, should be given to them.

Government replied, on June 24, that the advance to Lhasa might

certainly be deferred for that purpose, and I so informed the Tongsa

Penlop.

On June 26 we reached Gyantse, after encountering considerable

opposition at the village and monastery of Niani, which was held by 800

Tibetans. The fight lasted from 10 a.m. till 2 p.m., Colonel Brander

from Gyantse assisting by occupying the hills above the village. Major

Lye, 23rd Pioneers, was here severely wounded in the hand and slightly

in the head. On its arrival our force was ineffectually bombarded from

the jong.

General Macdonald had now to break up the Tibetan force investing

Gyantse. On the 28th he attacked a strong position on a ridge on which

were the Tse-chen monastery and several fortified towers and sangars.

The process of clearing the villages in the plain below lasted most of

the day. At 5.30 the position itself was stormed by the 8th Gurkhas and

the 40th Pathans, supported by the mountain battery. The fight was

severe, for the hillside was very steep. Captain Craster, 46th Pathans,

was killed whilst gallantly leading his company, and Captains Bliss and

Humphreys slightly wounded. The capture of this position much

disheartened the Tibetans: communications between Gyantse Jong and

Shigatse were cut off, and the jong was now surrounded on three sides.

Hearing that the big Lama from Lhasa, known as the Ta Lama, was at

Shigatse, and that the Councillor was at Nagartse, on the road to Lhasa,

I made a Lama in our employ write to these two on June 28, saying that

the Tongsa Penlop had told me that they wished to come here to settle

matters, but were afraid. I promised them, if they had proper

credentials to effect a settlement, to guarantee their safety and treat

them with respect; but I said they must come at once, for we were about

to start for Lhasa. These letters I sent by the hands of prisoners.

One of these messengers was seized by the Tibetans and brought to the

jong, where a council was held to consider its contents, as a result of

which, on the following morning, a messenger with a flag of truce of

enormous dimensions was sent to the Mission post. The whole garrison

crowded to the walls to see his arrival, for this was the first

indication of peace. He said the Tibetan leaders desired an armistice

till the Ta Lama, who was at Penam, halfway to Shigatse, and who could

be at Gyantse on the following day, could arrive to negotiate with me.

The messenger said that he and the Councillor coming from Nagartse had

powers from the Dalai Lama to treat.

After consultation with General Macdonald, I replied to the Tibetans

that I would grant the armistice they asked for till sunset of June 30,

to enable the Ta Lama to reach Gyantse; but that as I was attacked on

May 5 without warning, though I had informed the Tibetan Government that

I was ready to negotiate there, and as Tibetan armed forces had occupied

the jong and fired into my camp ever since, General Macdonald, who was

responsible for the safety of the Mission, demanded that they should

evacuate the jong and withdraw all armed force beyond Karo-la, Yang-la,

and Dongtse. A reasonable time for this would be given.

By June 30 neither of the Tibetan delegates had arrived, but both the

Tongsa Penlop and the Ta Lama were to arrive the next day, and we

allowed the armistice to extend informally till they arrived. The Tongsa

Penlop arrived first, though he had had twice the distance to travel,

and at once came to see me, and showed me a letter he had received from

the Dalai Lama, saying he had heard we had appointed a date up to which

we would negotiate, and after which we would fight; but as fighting was

bad for men and animals, he asked the Tongsa Penlop to assist in making

a peaceful settlement, and he was appointing the Ta Lama, who was a

Councillor, the Grand Secretary, and representative of the three great

monasteries, to negotiate. The Tongsa Penlop also produced a packet of

silks, which he said the Dalai Lama had sent me.

About three in the afternoon the Ta Lama arrived in Gyantse, and as he

was already a day later than the date of the armistice, and six days

over the date of the original ultimatum, I sent a message to say I

should be glad to see him that afternoon. He replied that he proposed to

visit the Tongsa Penlop on the following day, and would come and see me

some time after that. I returned a message to the effect that unless he

visited me by nine on the following morning military operations would be

resumed.

Undisturbed by this threat, he shortly after nine on the following

morning proceeded to visit the Tongsa Penlop; but as he had to pass my

camp, I sent out Captain O’Connor to say that I insisted on his coming

to pay his respects to me, unless he wished me to consider he was not

anxious to negotiate. He was at perfect liberty to discuss matters with

the Tongsa Penlop, but he must no longer delay paying his respects to

me, and giving me evidence that the Tibetan Government were sincere in

their wish to negotiate.

At eleven I received the Ta Lama and the Tongsa Penlop in Durbar. There

were also present the Tung-yig-Chembo (the Grand Secretary, who was one

of the delegates at Khamba Jong last year), and six representatives of

the three great Lhasa monasteries. As all except the Grand Secretary

were men who had not met me before, and were probably ignorant of our

view of the situation, I recounted it at length, showing how we had

lived on very good terms with Tibet for nearly a century and a half, and

it was only after the Tibetans had wantonly invaded Sikkim territory in

1886 that misunderstanding had arisen; that Mr. White had for years

tried at Yatung to make them observe the treaty made on their behalf by

the Chinese; and that when I came to Khamba Jong, a place of meeting

which the Viceroy had been informed was approved of both by the Emperor

of China and the Dalai Lama, they still repudiated the old treaty,

refused to negotiate a new one, or have any intercourse at all with us;

while after my arrival at Gyantse, when I told them I was ready to

negotiate, instead of sending me negotiators, they sent soldiers and

treacherously attacked me at night. I concluded by saying that the

Viceroy, on hearing this, had directed me to write letters to the Dalai

Lama and the Amban, announcing that if proper negotiators did not arrive

here by June 25 we would advance to Lhasa to compel negotiations there;

but these letters had been returned by the commander in the jong, no

negotiators had arrived by the 25th, and it was only because on the 24th

the Tongsa Penlop had informed me that negotiators really were on the

way that the British Government, in their anxiety for a peaceful

settlement, had been pleased to grant them a few days’ grace. We were

ready to go on to Lhasa the next day. If they were really in earnest and

had power to make a settlement, I was prepared to negotiate with them.

If they were not empowered to make a settlement, we would advance to

Lhasa forthwith. Had they proper credentials?

The Grand Secretary replied, on behalf of the Ta Lama, that we had come

by force into the country, and occupied Chumbi and Phari, and though the

Tibetan soldiers at Guru had strict orders not to fire on us, we had

fired on them and had killed all the high officials. He said they did

not know I was here when this camp was attacked on May 5; but they now

had orders to negotiate with me. They had no special credentials, but

the Dalai Lama, in his letter to the Tongsa Penlop, had mentioned that

they were coming to negotiate, and the fact of a man in the Ta Lama’s

high position being here was evidence of their intentions.

I replied that I did not wish to discuss the past except to make clear

one point. They were not at the Guru fight, but I was, and I saw the

first shot fired by the Tibetans after General Macdonald had purposely

restrained his men from firing. But what concerned me was the future. If

they made a settlement with me now, would it be observed, or would it be

repudiated like the last one? They at first replied that this would

depend upon what was in the settlement, but subsequently explained that,

though they might have to refer to Lhasa for orders, yet, when once the

Dalai Lama had placed his seal on a treaty, it would be scrupulously

observed. They said they wished to talk matters over with the Tongsa

Penlop, who would act as mediator and arrange matters with me. I

informed them that I would be very glad if they could discuss the

situation with him, and I was quite willing that he should accompany

them when they came to see me, but they themselves must come to me if

they desired that negotiations should take place. They said they would

have a talk with him the next day, and come and see me the day after. I

told them, however, that they must have their talk before noon on the

following day, and come and see me again at that hour, as I was not yet

satisfied of the earnestness of their intentions.

The same afternoon they had a prolonged interview with the Tongsa

Penlop, who asked them what they had gained by their silly attitude of

obstruction, and advised them to give up fighting and make terms with

us. The Tongsa Penlop informed me he thought the delegates, or certainly

the Dalai Lama, were really anxious to make a settlement.

On July 3 the Tongsa Penlop arrived half an hour before the time fixed

for the reception of the delegates. At noon I took my seat in the

Durbar, which was attended by General Macdonald and many military

officers, while a strong guard of honour lined the approach. I waited

for half an hour, but as at the end of that time the Tibetan delegates

had not arrived, I rose and dismissed the Durbar.

At 1.30 the Tibetans appeared; but as the dilatoriness they had shown in

coming to Gyantse and after their arrival in coming to see me was a

pretty clear indication that they had not even yet realized how serious

the situation was, I saw that I should have to do something yet to

impress them with its gravity. The Tongsa Penlop was able to come from

much farther and reach Gyantse before them. He had come to see me at

once on arrival, while they had delayed till the next day; he had come

half an hour before the time fixed for the Durbar, while they had come

an hour and a half late. All this indicated that, while they were still

so casual and indifferent, no negotiation that I could enter into with

them would produce the smallest result. They had yet to be shown that we

were not to be trifled with any longer. So on their arrival I had them

shown into a spare tent, and informed that I had waited for them in

Durbar for half an hour; that as they had not arrived by then, I had

dismissed the Durbar, and would not now be at leisure to receive them

for another two or three hours.

By four o’clock the Durbar was again assembled, with General Macdonald

and his officers, all my staff, and a guard of honour. Captain O’Connor

then led in the Tibetan delegates, and showed them to their places on my

right; but I made no signs of receiving them, and remained perfectly

silent, awaiting an apology. They moved about uncomfortably during this

deadening silence, and at last the Ta Lama, who was really a very

kindly, though perfectly incapable, old gentleman, and absolutely in the

hands of the more capable but evil-minded Chief Secretary, murmured out

a full apology. I informed them that the inference I drew from the

disrespect they had shown me in arriving an hour and a half late was

that they were not in earnest in desiring a settlement. The Ta Lama

assured me that they were really in earnest, but that the Grand

Secretary was ill. I then informed them that, as I had been attacked at

Gyantse without any warning, and after I had written repeatedly to the

Amban saying I was waiting there to negotiate, and as I had been fired

on from the jong continually for two months since the attack, I must

press for its evacuation. General Macdonald was prepared to give them

till noon of the 5th—that is, nearly two days—in which to effect the

evacuation; but if after that time the jong was occupied, he would

commence military operations against it. Irrespective of these

operations, I would, however, be ready to receive them if they wished to

make a settlement, and prevent the necessity of our proceeding to Lhasa.

The Grand Secretary then said that if the Tibetan troops withdrew from

the jong, they would expect that we also would withdraw our troops;

otherwise the Tibetans would be suspicious. I replied that the Tibetans

did not at all seem to realize that they would have to pay a penalty for

the attack they had made on the Mission, and that I could not discuss

the matter further. They must either leave the jong peaceably before

noon on the 5th, or expect to be then turned out by force. On leaving,

the Ta Lama very politely and respectfully expressed his regrets for

having kept me waiting, and begged that I would not be angry. But the

Grand Secretary went away without a word of apology. He was the evil

genius of the Tibetans throughout this affair.

The following morning the delegates had a long interview with the Tongsa

Penlop, and asked whether time could not be given them to refer to Lhasa

for orders. I sent back a message saying that it was already nearly a

week since I had let the Ta Lama know that the evacuation of the jong

would be demanded, that they ought to be grateful for the opportunity

that had been given them of withdrawing unmolested, and that no further

grace could be allowed.

The Tongsa Penlop also informed me that they were very suspicious, and

wanted an assurance that we really wished a settlement. I told him he

might inform them that the best evidence that we desired a settlement

was the fact that the control of affairs was in my hands. If we had

intended war the control would have been in the hands of a General.

The delegates and the commanders in the jong were still undecided. No

one would take the responsibility of evacuating the jong. On the morning

of the 5th the Tongsa Penlop with some Lhasa Lamas came to see me, and I

sent one of the latter over to the delegates, saying that at twelve a

signal gun would be fired to warn them that half an hour afterwards

firing would commence. I told them that if they came over either before

or after with a flag of truce they would be given an asylum in the

Tongsa Penlop’s camp. I begged that the women and children should be

taken out of the town; and I sent a special warning to General Ma, the

local Chinese official. No notice was taken of any of these warnings. At

twelve I had a signal gun fired, and at 12.30 I heliographed to General

Macdonald that he was free to commence firing.

The Tongsa Penlop had stayed with me on the ramparts of our post up till

noon, and I asked him to remain and see the fight. But he said he would

prefer to see it from a little farther off, and I dare say he did not

yet feel quite certain that we should win. For it was a tough task that

lay before General Macdonald. We were right in the heart of Tibet, with

all the strength that the Lamas, with a full year of effort, could put

forth. The fortress to be attacked from our little post in the plain

looked impregnable. It was built of solid masonry on a precipitous rock

rising sheer out of the plain. It was held by at least double, and

possibly treble, our own force, and they were armed, many hundreds of

them, with Lhasa-made rifles, which carried over a thousand yards. In

addition, there were several guns mounted. No wonder the Tongsa Penlop

thought it best to be a little distance off, and not too decidedly

identified with either side.

General Macdonald probably never would have been able to take the jong

if his guns had not just been supplied, on the recommendation of General

Parsons, the Inspector-General of Artillery, with “common” shell as well

as the shrapnel, which was all that up till now they had carried with

them. Shrapnel is of use only against troops. Common shell is more

solid, and can be used against masonry, and against the jong it proved

tremendously effective when fired by the accurate and hard-hitting

little 10-pounders.

[Illustration: GYANTSE JONG.]

At 1.45 p.m. on July 5 General Macdonald began his operations by

renewing the rifle fire on the jong. Then, at 3.30 p.m., two guns, six

companies of infantry, and one company of mounted infantry, were sent to

make a feint on the monastery side of the jong. This succeeded in

inducing the Tibetans to reinforce largely that side of their defences.

But after dark this column was withdrawn, and shortly after midnight a

force of twelve guns, twelve companies of infantry, one company of

mounted infantry, and half a company of sappers moved out in two columns

to take up a position south-east of Gyantse.

We in the Mission post naturally spent the night on the ramparts

awaiting events. It was 3.30 a.m. by the time the columns had taken up

their position. Dawn had not yet appeared. All was still and quiet. The

stars shone out in all the brilliance of these high altitudes, and

nothing could be more serene and peaceful than this clear summer night.

Suddenly a few sharp rifle cracks spat out, telling us that the enemy

had seen our assaulting columns. Then the dull, heavy thud of an

explosion showed that some doorway had been blown open. And after that

came the full blaze of the fight, the whole jong lighting up with the

flashes of rifle and jingal fire, and down below our own fire getting

hotter and hotter.

As day dawned we could see that we had gained a footing in the town

which was the immediate object of General Macdonald’s attack previous to

the assault on the jong itself. What had happened was this: The Tibetans

had opened an unexpectedly heavy fire before the assaulting columns

could get close up under the walls of the outlying parts of the town,

and our three columns were reorganized into two—that on the right under

Colonel Campbell, of the 40th Pathans, a tried and experienced frontier

officer, and that on the left under Major Murray, 8th Gurkhas. With

Colonel Campbell was Captain Sheppard, R.E., who, with that dash and

effectiveness which always characterized him, succeeded in laying and

firing a charge under the walls of the most strongly held house, and

blowing in it a breach, which, with the damage done by the fire of the

7-pounder gun, gave an opening for the assaulting column. On the left

Lieutenants Gurdon and Burney also succeeded in blowing breaches in the

walls of the houses; but, to the grief of all, Gurdon was killed—it is

believed by the falling debris of the very wall which he had blown up.

He had been with the Mission escort from the very first, and in many of

these very dangerous assaults on villages had displayed most daring

courage. He was a brother of the Captain (now Lieutenant-Colonel) Gurdon

who had so distinguished himself in the Siege of Chitral, and who was

one of my closest friends. When the news came in to me from the front, I

felt how sad indeed it was that one so young and so full of promise,

with a great and useful career most certainly before him, should have

been thus in an instant cut off. But he did not fall in vain, for what

he had done at the cost of his life enabled the assaulting columns to

enter the town, which by 7 a.m. was in our possession.

The troops began to make good their position in the area thus won, but

the real business had yet to be accomplished. The jong, with 5,000 or

6,000 Tibetans inside it, still had to be assaulted. During the morning

there was a general lull in the proceedings while the troops rested. But

about two o’clock Colonel Campbell, who was in command of all the

advanced troops in the town, sent back word to General Macdonald, who

was in the Palla village, recommending that an assault should be made on

the extreme east of the jong. To him in his advanced position,

immediately under the walls of the jong, it appeared that if our guns

could make a breach in the wall itself an assault could be made, though

the storming party would have a stiff, hazardous climb over the steepest

part of the rock. General Macdonald adopted the proposal, and as the

Tibetans now appeared somewhat exhausted, ordered the assault to be made

at once.

At three o’clock General Macdonald ordered forward four companies of the

reserve, and directed the 10-pounder guns to concentrate their fire on

the portion of the wall to be breached for the assault. As the

reinforcements crossed the open to the town the Tibetans redoubled their

fire, but our fire from all parts of the field also increased. The

10-pounder battery under Major Fuller did magnificent work. Stationed

only 1,000 yards from the point to be breached, it placed one shell

after another in exactly the same spot. Bit by bit the wall came

tumbling down. A larger and larger gap appeared, and by four a breach

sufficiently large for an assault had been made.

Then the heliograph flashed from post to post that the jong was now to

be assaulted. Major Fuller immediately gave the order for “Rapid firing”

on the upper buildings. Maxims from three different directions began

rattling away with peremptory emphasis. Every man poured in his rifle

fire with increasing energy. Then a little cluster of black figures,

ever augmenting in numbers, was seen, like a swarm of ants, slowly

making its way up the nearly precipitous rock towards the breach. A

cheer was raised, which was taken up from post to post all round our

encircling force and back to the reserves in the rear. The Tibetans

could still be seen firing away in the breach and hurling down stones,

but we only redoubled our fire upon them.

Very, very gradually—or so it seemed to us in our suspense below—the

Gurkhas, under Lieutenant Grant, made their upward way. First a few

arrived just under the breach, then more and more. Then came the crisis,

and Grant was seen leading his men straight for the opening. Instantly

our bugles all over the field rang out the “Cease fire,” so as not to

endanger our storming party. The Tibetans, too, now stopped firing; and

where a moment before there had been a deafening din there was now an

aching silence. We held our breath, and in tense excitement awaited the

result of the assault. We saw the little Gurkhas and the Royal

Fusiliers, who formed the storming party, stream through the breach.

Then we watched them working up from building to building. Tier after

tier of the fortifications was crowned, and at last our men were seen

placing the Union Jack on the highest pinnacle of the jong. The Tibetans

had fled precipitately, and Gyantse was ours.

The Tongsa Penlop next morning came over to congratulate General

Macdonald and myself; and we went over the jong together. Till I had got

up there and looked down through the Tibetan loopholes on our

insignificant Mission post below, I had not realized how certain the

Tibetans must have felt that they could overwhelm us, and how impossible

it must have seemed that we could ever turn the tables upon them. If one

stood in the Round Tower of Windsor Castle and looked down from there

upon a house and garden in the fields about Eton, held by some strangers

who said they had come to make a treaty, one would get the best idea of

what must have been in the Tibetans’ minds. They were in a lofty and

seemingly impregnable fortress in the heart of their own country. We

were a little dot in the plain below. The idea of making a treaty with

us, if they did not want to, must have appeared ridiculous. And as I

stood there in their position and looked down upon what had till just

then been my own, I soon understood how it was that the Ta Lama and

other delegates had been so casual in their behaviour.

Yet, in spite of our success, and to a certain extent by reason of it, I

was still ready to negotiate with Tibetan delegates. I had disliked,

with an intensity which only those can know who have been in a similar

position, the idea of making any mention of negotiation during all that

critical time in May, while they were firing proudly at us from the

jong, and were surrounding me in my little post below. Now that, through

General Macdonald’s skilful dispositions and the bravery of his troops,

I was in the top place, I readily tried to negotiate. And I thought that

His Majesty’s Government were anxious that further efforts to negotiate

here should be made; for on June 25 they had telegraphed that if there

was reasonable expectation of the early arrival of the Resident,

accompanied by competent Tibetan negotiators, the advance to Lhasa might

be postponed. They thought that the advance should not be undertaken

unless there was adequate ground for doubting the competency of the

Tibetan delegates or the earnestness of the Tibetan Government.

Moreover, some few days’ delay was necessary for General Macdonald to

complete his arrangements for the advance, to collect sufficient

supplies, and to establish Gyantse as his secondary base.

I therefore, immediately the jong was captured, asked the Tongsa Penlop

to send messengers to tell the Ta Lama and the Councillor at Nagartse

that I was still ready to negotiate, as previously announced, but that

they must come in at once, as otherwise we would proceed to Lhasa. But

the messenger found the monastery in which they had been staying

deserted and the delegates fled.

On July 9 the Government of India telegraphed to me that they considered

the advance to Lhasa inevitable, but that if the delegates could be

induced to come in and negotiate _en route_ I might invite them to

accompany me, explaining the terms of His Majesty’s Government, and

warning them that any further resistance would involve a settlement less

favourable to Tibet.

By July 13 General Macdonald’s preparations were all complete. He had

reconnoitred the country both up and down the valley, and found the

Tibetans had fled in every direction. He had amassed plentiful supplies.

He had set about repairing the jong, in which he was, to my infinite

regret, to leave Colonel Hogge, and the 23rd Pioneers, and he was ready

to leave for Lhasa the next day. It was sad that the old Pioneers, who

had borne the burden and the cold of the day at Tuna all through that

dreary and anxious winter should be left behind, while other regiments

who had but just arrived from India should have the glory of going to

Lhasa, and I would willingly have had it otherwise.

All were now eager and ready for the advance, and I wrote to the Chinese

Resident, that as neither he nor any competent Tibetan negotiator had

come to Gyantse I was proceeding to Lhasa. I stated that my purpose was

still to negotiate, but that I must ask him to prevent the Tibetans from

further opposing my Mission, and I intimated that the terms I was

demanding would be still more severe if we encountered opposition.

The Tongsa Penlop also, at my request, wrote to the Ta Lama, saying that

I was prepared to carry on negotiations _en route_, in order that the

settlement might be ready for signature at an early date at Lhasa. And I

asked the Tongsa Penlop, further, to write to the Dalai Lama himself,

giving an outline of the terms we should demand.

Lastly, I issued a proclamation, drafted by the Government of India,

stating that we had no desire to fight with the people of Tibet or to

interfere with their liberties or religion, but that it was necessary to

impress unmistakably upon the Government of Tibet that they could not

with impunity offer insults to the British Government, and that they

must realize the obligations they had entered into and act up to them in

all respects. The people were warned that any opposition to our advance

would only result in making the terms demanded more exacting.

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

CHAPTER XV

THE ADVANCE TO LHASA

Just a year had now elapsed since we had arrived at Khamba Jong, and now

at length all were united in the single purpose of advancing to

Lhasa—the Imperial Government, the Indian Government, and the military

authorities. A year had been wasted in futile forbearance for the

benefit of the British public, but at length what the responsible

Government of India had advocated since January of the previous year was

to be carried into effect, and on July 14 we left our dreary little post

at Gyantse and set out, full of enthusiasm, for Lhasa.

Though we were so high above sea-level, it was quite hot now in the

middle of the day, for the sun in these low latitudes and in this clear

atmosphere struck down with considerable force. But we also had some

very heavy rain in the next few days.

As we approached the Karo-la (pass), the scene of Colonel Brander’s

gallant little action, I received a letter from the Tongsa Penlop at

Gyantse, enclosing a letter he had received from the Dalai Lama. It

said:

“We have written to the Yutok Sha-pé, inquiring from him whether it will

be easy to effect a settlement or not. Will you also request the English

privately not to nibble up our country? Please use your influence well

both with the English and the Tibetans. I cannot at present speak with

exactness with regard to the frontier, but I have said something on the

matter to the Pukong Tulku, so it will be well if the negotiations are

begun quickly. Once they have begun, we shall hear gradually who is in

the right.”

On the next day, July 17, we marched to a camp immediately below the

Karo-la, and there we found the Bhutanese messenger who had carried a

letter from the Tongsa Penlop to the Yutok Sha-pé’s camp had returned,

saying that some Tibetan officials would come over presently to see us.

The Tibetans, however, fired at our mounted infantry from the wall on

the far side of the pass, and no officials appeared.

This looked as if we were to have another fight. Before we left Gyantse

we had heard that the pass was occupied by 2,000 Tibetans, and that

there were 2,000 more in support, and the mounted infantry now reported

the pass to be strongly held and fresh walls and sangars to have been

built. All the villages _en route_, too, had been deserted, so we fully

expected a fight.

Our camp under the pass was right in among a lofty knot of mountains,

one of which rose to a height of over 24,000 feet above sea-level. A

magnificent glacier descended a side valley to within 500 yards of the

camp. The whole scene was desolate in the highest degree. And though we

were on the highroad to Lhasa, the road was nothing but the roughest

little mountain pathway rubbed out by the traffic of mules and men

across it.

The afternoon and evening of the 17th were occupied in reconnoitring the

position of the Tibetans. They were very strongly posted at a narrow

gorge three miles from our camp on the north side of the pass, and their

position was flanked by impassable snow mountains. The old wall of

Colonel Brander’s time had been extended on either hand till it touched

precipices immediately under the snow-line. Behind this lay a second

barrier of sangars. Like all the walls which the Tibetans so skilfully

erected at such places, this was built up of heavy stones. The position

was manned, according to our latest information, by about 1,500

Tibetans.

At 7 a.m. on the morning of the 18th, when now, even in the height of

summer, there was still a nip of frost in the air, the advance troops

marched off. The Royal Fusiliers, under Colonel Cooper, were to attack

the centre, and on either side parties of the 8th Gurkhas were to turn

the flanks.

[Illustration: CAMP NEAR KARO-LA.]

While the Gurkhas were slowly plodding up the mountain-sides, I seated

myself beside Major Fuller’s mountain battery, and watched the effects

of gun-fire at these altitudes. It was most interesting. The pass itself

was 16,600 feet, and the battery was a few hundred feet above it, and

was for some time firing at groups 5,000 yards away, and some of them on

the glacier at about 18,000 feet above the sea. In such a rare

atmosphere ordinary sighting and ordinary fuses were quite useless. The

shells would cleave through the thin air at very considerably greater

velocity than they would pass through the thicker air at sea-level. All

the sighting and the timing of the fuses had, therefore, to be

completely readjusted by trial and guesswork. Despite this, however,

wonderfully accurate shooting was effected by these splendid little

guns, and it would have made all the difference to Colonel Brander if he

had had them instead of the useless 7-pounders.

The Gurkhas and Pathans, after a long and difficult climb to 18,000

feet, turned the position, but the Tibetans in the centre had not

waited. They knew that the dreaded mounted infantry would be after them,

so each determined that he, at any rate, would not be the last to leave

the position, and all had cleared off before our troops arrived. Most,

indeed, had retreated in the night, and in reality only about 700 Kham

men were left to hold the position. Many of these escaped high up over

the snows, pursued only by our shrapnel shells. Our mounted infantry

reconnoitred up to within two miles of Nagartse Jong, which was found to

be occupied, while reports came in that 1,300 more men from Kham were

expected.

Nagartse was reached on the 19th, and close to it I was met by a

deputation from Lhasa. Here were signs of negotiations at last. I said I

would have a full interview at three that afternoon, but must warn them

at once that it would be necessary for me to occupy the jong, and to

advance to Lhasa, though I was ready to negotiate on the way. The

deputation, which consisted of the Yutok Sha-pé, the Ta Lama, the Chief

Secretary, and some monks, arrived in my camp shortly before the time

appointed. The Yutok Sha-pé took the chief place. He was a genial,

gentlemanly official of good family and pleasant manners. But it soon

became apparent that both he and the Ta Lama were in the hands of the

Chief Secretary, the monk official who, from our first meeting at Khamba

Jong, had ever been an obstacle in our way. This latter official, acting

as spokesman, said they had heard from the Tongsa Penlop that we wished

to negotiate at Gyantse, and they had set out to meet us when they heard

that we were advancing. They were quite willing to negotiate if we

returned to Gyantse, and in that case they would accompany us and make a

proper settlement with us there.

I repeated for the fiftieth time that I had waited for more than a year

to negotiate; that even at Gyantse I had given them many opportunities;

that when I had first arrived there I had announced my desire to

negotiate; that after the attack upon me I had still declared my

willingness to negotiate up to June 25; that on the intercession of the

Tongsa Penlop the Viceroy had extended that term for some days; that

even after the capture of the jong I had sent messengers over the

country to find them, and waited for another week at Gyantse; but that

eventually the patience of the Viceroy had become completely exhausted,

and His Excellency had ordered me to advance to Lhasa forthwith, as he

had reluctantly become convinced that only there could a settlement be

made. We were now advancing to Lhasa. I would be quite ready to

negotiate with them on the way, and if the Tibetan troops did not oppose

us we would not fight against them; but as our troops had on the

previous day been fired at from the jong, we must send our troops in to

occupy it. We would, however, allow the delegates to remain unmolested,

and would see that their property was not disturbed, and that they

themselves were accorded proper marks of respect.

The delegates replied that if we went on to Lhasa there was no chance of

a settlement being arrived at; that they had come here with the sincere

intention of making friendship with us and securing peace, but if we

sent troops into the jong they did not see how they could be friends

with us; they were the two biggest men in Tibet next to the Dalai Lama,

and it was both against their religion and disgusting to them to have

soldiers in the same place where they were staying. I said they must,

after all, allow that this could not be half so disgusting to them as

having their soldiers firing into my camp at Gyantse, while I was

asleep, was to me. They continued one after another wrangling and

protesting against our occupying the jong. After listening for an hour

to their protests, I asked them if they would now care to hear the terms

we intended to ask of them. They replied that they could not discuss any

terms till we returned to Gyantse. I said I had no wish now to discuss

the terms, but merely desired to know if they wanted to be acquainted

with them. They continued to protest that they would discuss nothing

here, and it was only after considerable fencing that I got them to

admit that they had heard the terms from the Tongsa Penlop.

I then said that I wished them to understand that if we were further

opposed on the way to Lhasa, or at Lhasa itself, these terms would be

made stricter. I said the British Government had no wish to be on any

other than friendly terms with Tibet, that we had no intention of

remaining in Lhasa any longer than was required to make a settlement,

and as soon as a settlement was made we would leave. But I had the

Viceroy’s orders to go to Lhasa, and go there I must. I desired,

however, to give them most earnest advice and warning. They were the

leading men of Tibet, and upon them lay a great responsibility. I was

quite prepared on arrival at Lhasa to live on as friendly and peaceable

terms with the people as I had at Khamba Jong, and as I had when I first

arrived at Gyantse; to pay for everything, and to respect their

religious buildings. It rested with them now to decide whether our stay

at Lhasa should be of this peaceable nature and of short duration, and

whether the settlement should be of the mild nature we at present

contemplated, or whether we should have to resort to force, as we had

been compelled to do at Gyantse, to impose severer terms, and to prolong

our stay.

The delegates listened attentively while I made this exhortation to

them, but, after consulting together, replied that even if we did make a

settlement at Lhasa, it would be of no use, for in Tibet everything

depended on religion, and by the mere fact of our going to Lhasa we

should spoil their religion, as no men of other religions were allowed

in Lhasa. I asked them if there were no Mohammedans living in Lhasa, and

they replied that there were a few, but they were not allowed to

practise their religious rites—a sad admission in view of the toleration

which the Buddhist religion in reality enjoins. I added that we would

not have gone to Lhasa unless we had been absolutely compelled to by

their incivility in not meeting us elsewhere; that personally I had

already suffered great inconvenience, and would much prefer not to have

the further inconvenience of going to Lhasa; but no other resource was

now left to us, and my orders from the Viceroy were final.

The Yutok Sha-pé throughout was calm and polite, and at his departure

was cordial in his manner. The Ta Lama, though more excited, was not

ill-mannered. The Chief Secretary was very much excited throughout, and

argumentative and querulous. The whole tone of the delegates showed that

they—or, at any rate, the Dalai Lama—had not even yet realized the

seriousness of the position. The tone they adopted entirely ignored

their serious breaches of international courtesy, and was that of people

with a grievance against us and quite ignorant of the fact that we had

grievances against them; they were, too, excessively unbusinesslike and

impracticable, and I anticipated an infinity of trouble in carrying

through a settlement with such men. On the other hand, the disposition

and manners of the Yutok Sha-pé gave one more confirmation of the

impression I had long formed that the laymen of Tibet were by no means

inimical, and that but for the opposition of the monks we might be on

extremely friendly terms with them.

Under General Macdonald’s well-thought-out arrangements the occupation

of the jong was effected without any mishap or loss of life. Captain

O’Connor accompanied the delegates back towards the jong, which,

however, they did not again enter, but took up their quarters in the

village, while their followers and baggage were sent down to them there.

I expressed my regret to the Yutok Sha-pé that at our first meeting I

should have had to put him to such inconvenience. But the occupation of

the jong was a military necessity. It was a matter of congratulation

that it should have been effected without the loss of life on either

side.

The following day the Tibetan delegates held another prolonged interview

with me, lasting three and a half hours. They made no further mention of

the occupation of the jong, but were very insistent that we should not

advance to Lhasa. The Yutok Sha-pé was the chief spokesman at first, but

during the course of the interview each one repeated separately much the

same arguments. They said that in Lhasa there were a great number of

monks and many unruly characters, and disturbances might easily arise;

to which I replied that I should much regret any such disturbances, and

hoped the delegates would do their best to prevent them, for the result

could only be the same as the result of the disturbances at Gyantse.

Another argument the delegates used was that, if we went to Lhasa, we

should probably find no one there. To this I replied that this would

necessitate our waiting until people returned. I reminded them that they

lived apart from the rest of the world, and did not understand the

customs of international intercourse. To us the fact of their having

kept the representative of a great Power waiting for a year to negotiate

was a deep insult, which most Powers would resent by making war without

giving any further chance for negotiation. But the British Government

disliked making war if they could possibly help it. They had therefore

commanded me to give the Tibetans one more chance of negotiating, though

that chance could only be given at Lhasa itself. Let them make the most

of this opportunity.

The delegates replied that they had intended no insult by keeping me

waiting a year; it was merely the custom of their country to keep out

strangers. “But, anyhow,” they said, “let us forget the past; let us be

practical, and look only at the present. Here we are, the leading men in

Tibet, ready to negotiate at Gyantse, and make a settlement which will

last for a century.”

I replied to the Yutok Sha-pé that I had no doubt that if a sensible man

like himself had been sent to me sooner, we might have made up a

satisfactory settlement long ago, and there would have been no necessity

for us to go through all this inconvenience of advancing through an

inhospitable country to Lhasa; but after the many chances which had been

given them of negotiating at Gyantse, they could hardly consider it

reasonable that we should give them any more. Moreover, the Viceroy had

formed the opinion, from the fact of the Ta Lama having told me at

Gyantse that he had no authority to evacuate the jong without referring

to Lhasa, and from the fact of his running away, that he had not

sufficient power to make a settlement. For all these reasons we were

compelled to go to Lhasa, though I was ready to negotiate on the way,

and we would return directly a settlement was made.

They then made further reference to their religion being spoilt if we

went to Lhasa, and I asked them to make more clear to me in what way

precisely their religion would be spoilt. I said we were not intolerant

of other religions, as they themselves were. They had yesterday told me

that, though there were some Mohammedans in Lhasa, yet they were not

allowed to practise their religious rites. We had no such feelings

towards other religions. On the contrary, we allowed the followers of

each to practise their religious observances as they liked.

The delegates said that they were not so intolerant to the Mohammedans:

they merely forbade building mosques, and prevented any new Mohammedans

coming into their country. I said that at any rate some were there, and

apparently they had not spoilt the religion of the Tibetans. They

replied that the ancestors of these had come many, many years ago, and

the Tibetans had become accustomed to them; to which my rejoinder was

that if Mohammedans had lived among them practising their religious

rites for all these years—apparently for centuries—without spoiling the

religion of Tibet, I could not believe that the fact of our going to

Lhasa for a few weeks only could have any permanent ill-effect on the

religion of Tibet.

They then remarked that if we now went to Lhasa all the other nations

would want to go there, and see the sights, and establish agents there.

I told them I had not the smallest wish to see the sights of Lhasa. I

had already travelled in many different lands, and seen finer sights

than they could show me at Lhasa; and as to stationing an agent there,

we had no such intention. Could they tell me if any other nation wished

to? They replied that the Russians would be wanting to send an agent to

Lhasa. I told them they need not be in any fear on that score, for the

Russian Government had assured our Government that they had no intention

of sending an agent to Tibet. I added that, though we had no intention

of establishing a political agent at Lhasa, we desired to open a

trade-mart at Gyantse on the same conditions as the trade-mart at Yatung

had been opened—that is, with the right to send a British officer there

to superintend the trade.

The delegates would not, however, be led into a discussion of the terms.

They said they could only discuss the terms at Gyantse, and the

conversation drifted back into the old lines of withdrawing to Gyantse.

Each of the four members of the delegation repeated in turn the same

arguments for withdrawing to Gyantse, and I gave to each in turn my

reasons for advancing to Lhasa. I said I feared they must think me

extremely obstinate, and I felt sure that, if they had been deputed by

their Government earlier in the day, I should have been able to agree to

their wishes, and we could have soon come to an agreement. As matters

stood at present, I could do nothing but obey the orders of the Viceroy.

They asked if I could not stop here, represent to His Excellency what

they had said, and await further instructions. I replied that the

Viceroy only issued his orders after very careful deliberation, but once

they were issued, he never revoked them.

I endeavoured throughout the interview to avoid being drawn into petty

wrangling. Even more important than the securing of a paper convention,

which might or might not, be of value, was, I stated to Government at

the time, the placing of our personal relations with the officials of

Tibet upon a good footing from the start. I had to be severe with them

at Gyantse, because they would not pay proper respect to me; but at each

interview since they had come well before the appointed time, they were

thoroughly respectful throughout, and I was able to treat them with the

politeness I preferred to show them when they made this possible. I

trusted that, after I had suffered two interviews, one of three and a

quarter hours and another of three and a half hours, they would feel

that I was at any rate accessible, and that they would have no

compunction in coming to see me whenever they felt inclined. Until,

however, they received further orders from Lhasa, there was nothing more

to be said on either side.

We had halted a day at Nagartse to collect supplies, of which we were

short, and some question arose whether, as we had the negotiators here,

it would not be better to stop and negotiate. By being too

uncompromising we might be simply stiffening them up to renewed

fighting, and in the desolate country in which we found ourselves, with

practically no supplies and with a lofty pass behind us, we might find

ourselves in a very awkward predicament. All this had certainly to be

taken into consideration. Still, we should be sure to find supplies in

the Lhasa Valley, unless the Tibetans resorted to the extreme course of

destroying or carrying off all their foodstuffs; and as the Tibetans

were now evidently on the run, I never had any real doubt that we should

keep them on the run, and follow them clean through, right up to Lhasa.

On the 21st we found that the delegates had decamped in the night.

Perhaps, after all, I had made a mistake, and allowed these very coy

birds to escape just as they had come into my hand. On the whole I

thought not. I believed others would soon come in. So I marched very

contentedly along the shores of one of the most beautiful lakes I have

ever seen—the Yamdok Tso. It was 14,350 feet above sea-level. In shape

it was like a rough ring, surrounding what is practically an island; and

in colour it varied to every shade of violet and turquoise blue and

green. At times it would be the blue of heaven, reflecting the intense

Tibetan sky. Then, as some cloud passed over it, or as, marching along,

we beheld it at some different angle, it would flash back rays of the

deep greeny-blue of a turquoise. Anon it would show out in various

shades of richest violet. Often, when overhead all was black with heavy

rain-clouds, we would see a streak of brilliant light and colour

flashing from the far horizon of the lake; while beyond it and beyond

the bordering mountains, each receding range of which was of one more

beautiful shade of purple than the last, rose once more the mighty axial

range of the Himalayas, at that great distance not harsh in their whity

coldness, but softly tinted with a delicate blue, and shading away into

the exquisite azure of the sky. What caused the marvellous colouring of

this lake, which even the Tibetans call the Turquoise Lake, we could

none of us say. Perhaps it was its depth, perhaps it was its saline

character, or some chemical component of its water. But whatever the

main cause, one cause at least must have been the intense blue of the

Tibetan sky at these great altitudes, so deep and so translucent that

even the sky of Greece and Italy would pale beside it.

This latter theory is what Lord Rayleigh would adopt. In a lecture which

he delivered this year at the Royal Institution on the causes of the

coloration of water, he gave his conclusion, from careful observations

and tests, that the cause of the blueness of, say, the Mediterranean Sea

was the Mediterranean sky, which was exactly the theory we had thought

must apply to this Tibetan lake.

Marching along by this lake we had much rain, turning into snow at

night. Pete Jong, a picturesque little fort close to the shore, was

reached on the 22nd, where, as at Nagartse, a company of infantry and a

few mounted infantry were left to keep up the line of communications.

From here the mounted infantry, reconnoitring ahead, reported the

remnants of the Kham force to be retreating in a disorganized condition,

and looting the country _en route_.

Another of the Tibetan stone walls, running from the waters of the lake

far up the mountain-side, was found deserted on the next day, and that

same day we crossed the last pass on the way to Lhasa, the Kamba-la,

15,400 feet. The ascent was steep, but we all eagerly clambered up in

the faint hope of getting some distant glimpse of Lhasa, or at any rate

of the mighty Brahmaputra River, which still lay in between us and the

sacred city. The enthusiastic Perceval Landon was quite certain that

through some chink he saw the glitter of a gilded cupola, and refused to

be convinced by the prosaic survey officers that whatever it might be it

at any rate was not the roof of the Potala.

But if we were not yet to catch a sight of our goal we had many other

exciting incidents on that day. We descended rapidly from the pass by a

very steep path to a camp on the banks of the great Brahmaputra itself,

called here the Sanpo, and presumed to be identical—though this is a

great geographical problem yet to be solved—with the Brahmaputra of

India. It was here 11,550 above sea-level, and spread out in many

channels, but farther down, where it was narrowed into a single channel,

it was 140 yards wide and flowing with a strong, swift current. The

valley was wide and well cultivated with wheat and barley, and several

cultivated valleys ran into it. In these valleys were plenty of trees,

poplars and willows, but the hillsides were not wooded, as we had hoped.

General Macdonald sent on his mounted infantry to seize the Chaksam

Ferry, and they succeeded in capturing the two large ferry-boats, and

occupied Chaksam for the night. This was a great stroke, as if the

Tibetans had kept the boats on the other side of the river our

difficulties in surmounting this most serious obstacle would have been

immensely increased.

[Illustration: BERTHON BOATS ON BRAHMAPUTRA.]

Another great event on this day was the receipt of what was, I think,

the first written communication which any British official had received

from a Tibetan official since the time of Warren Hastings. It was

addressed to “The all-wise Sahib sent by the English Government to

settle affairs, from the Tibetan National Assembly.” It ran as follows:

"Recently the Tongsa Penlop sent a letter to the Dalai Lama, and also

communicated with the two delegates, but hitherto a treaty has not been

effected. The Sahibs say that they intend to come to Lhasa and to see

the Dalai Lama and to negotiate there, and that they will there

establish friendship. The letter which contains the nine terms of the

Convention has arrived here. This is a matter of great importance, and

therefore the Chigyab Kenpo (Lord Chamberlain) has been sent to Chisul.

Now, our Tibetan religion is very precious, so our Regent, officials,

monks, and laymen have consulted together. Formerly we made a National

Convention that none was to enter the country. So now, even if the

Sahibs should come to Lhasa and meet the Dalai Lama, this will not

advantage the cause of friendship. Should a fresh cause of dispute

arise, we greatly fear that a disturbance, contrary to the interests of

friendship, may follow. So we beg of the Sahibs both now and in the

future to give the matter their earnest consideration, and if they will

negotiate with the delegates who are now here all will be well. Please

consider well all that has been said, and do not press forward hastily

to Lhasa.

“Dated the Wood Dragon year.”

This letter was brought by a messenger, who said that the new delegates

were then at Chisul, on the opposite bank of the river. And now again

arose the question whether we should make use of this new chance of

negotiating or should still press on to Lhasa. We had in front of us the

serious obstacle formed by the Brahmaputra River, which, if we crossed

it, would be a nasty impediment to have in our rear. On the other hand,

we had negotiators here with more ample credentials than any had had

before, and we had the National Assembly itself in communication with

us. The fear of our going to Lhasa might have more effect than our

actual presence in the place. The mere dread of our advance might make

them agree to our terms, while if we actually advanced to their sacred

city we might find that the most determined defence had been reserved

for the capital; and that we had put our heads into a hornets’ nest, and

irritated 20,000 monks into buzzing about our ears. This was an

eventuality on which I had to count, and of which I had been warned by

speeches by responsible men in England which did little to encourage me

in my task. An ex-Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery, had said in February in

the House of Lords that this Mission bore “in its circumstances so

melancholy a resemblance to that first war in Afghanistan, which we

conducted under the late Lord Lytton, that it must give all those whose

minds and memories recurred to the past serious grounds of misgivings

when they saw once more His Majesty’s Government proceeding in the same

direction to an end which they could not see themselves.” A future Prime

Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, in pressing for the recall of

the Mission, had said in the House of Commons in April that “we had had

experience before, and the associations connected with the name of

Cavagnari did not seem to invite us to undertake a similar policy

again.”

If we pressed on to Lhasa, into this swarm of fanatically hostile monks,

we might all share the fate of Cavagnari, while if we simply held up the

threat of advancing we might get the treaty through. It was an

alternative which I had to consider; but I felt fairly sure by now that

I had rightly taken the measure of the Tibetans, so I sent a verbal

intimation by the messenger that I would be glad to receive the

delegates, but that I could not consent to defer my advance to Lhasa.

And, in reply to the letter of the National Assembly, I wrote to the

Dalai Lama that more than a year ago I had arrived at Khamba Jong, which

he had approved as a meeting-place for the negotiations, but that the

appointed delegates refused to negotiate. I had advanced to Gyantse, but

still no negotiators had arrived, and instead, I was treacherously

attacked at night. Now the Viceroy had ordered me to advance to Lhasa to

negotiate there. Those orders I had to obey, but I had no desire to

create disturbances in Lhasa or interfere with the religion of the

country, and as soon as I had obtained his seal to the Convention I had

been instructed to negotiate, I would retire from Lhasa. No religious

places which were not occupied by Tibetan soldiers would be occupied by

British soldiers; our soldiers would not fire if no opposition was

offered to them; and all supplies taken from the peasants would be paid

for. But if opposition were offered, our troops would be compelled to

commence military operations, as they did at Gyantse, and the terms of

the settlement would be increased in severity.

This letter I despatched on the 25th, and the same day we marched six

miles down the banks of the Brahmaputra River, to Chaksam Ferry. For the

purpose of crossing this river we had brought with us from India four

collapsible Berthon boats, and with these and the local ferry-boats

seven companies of infantry and one company of mounted infantry were

crossed over by nightfall.

But a sad accident occurred: one of the boats capsized in the rushing,

eddying current, and Major Bretherton, the Chief Supply and Transport

Officer, and two Gurkhas were drowned. There was no more capable and

energetic officer in the Force. Our success depended much less on

fighting than on supply and transport arrangements, and these had been

wellnigh perfect. Major Bretherton, in the Kashmir, Gilgit, Chitral, and

North-West frontiers, had almost unrivalled experience of rough

transport work, and his driving power, his readiness, quickness,

far-sightedness, and inexhaustible buoyancy and cheerfulness were of

inestimable value in carrying through such an enterprise as that which

we had now so nearly completed. It was hard that young Gurdon should

lose his life just at the beginning of so promising a career; it seemed

almost more cruel that a man who had achieved so much, and who was just

within sight of the goal for which he had worked longer and harder than

any one of us, should have been swept away in an instant and have never

seen his reward. It is in reflecting on cases such as these that one

begins to wonder whether our touching trustfulness in the mercy of

Providence is altogether justified.

We had to halt some days now, while the troops and baggage were being

transported across the river, and on the 27th I had a three hours’

interview with this new deputation from Lhasa, which consisted of the

Dalai Lama’s Chamberlain, a man of some capacity, with an air of great

consequence, who was evidently regarded with much respect; the Ta Lama,

the somewhat effete, but genial, old gentleman who had met me at

Gyantse; and a Secretary of the Council, a brisk, cheery gentleman, with

an ever-ready smile, and very different from the other Secretary who had

met us at Khamba Jong, Gyantse, and Nagartse.

They brought with them a letter from the Dalai Lama, and repeated the

old request that we should not go to Lhasa. The only new argument they

used was that our going to Lhasa would so spoil their religion that the

Dalai Lama might die. I told them that I should much regret that our

arrival in Lhasa should have any such melancholy result, but I had

studied their religion, and could hardly believe it was so weak that it

would not stand our presence in Lhasa for a few weeks. The delegates

repeatedly urged me to realize the personal inconvenience our presence

in Lhasa would be to the Dalai Lama. The Ta Lama explained that the

Chamberlain was in constant personal attendance on the Dalai Lama, and

enjoyed his fullest confidence, and for that reason had been specially

deputed by the Dalai Lama. I was given to understand that this was a

very unusual favour, and I was earnestly begged to accede to the Dalai

Lama’s personal wishes; the delegates further told me that if I did not

accede to them they would themselves be severely punished by the Dalai

Lama.

In reply I expressed my inability to accede to the Dalai Lama’s wishes,

but trusted they would ask His Holiness to excuse my insistence. They

had spoken of the inconvenience our presence in Lhasa would cause the

Dalai Lama, but His Holiness would, I felt sure, realize the

inconvenience we had already suffered through the delay in the arrival

of negotiators. I could assure them that the Viceroy had every desire to

consult the feelings of the Dalai Lama, and it was because we knew that

His Holiness was averse to the presence of strangers in Lhasa that His

Excellency had not sent me there in the first instance, though the

capital of a country was the natural and usual place in which to conduct

negotiations. It was only after we had found it impossible to effect a

settlement anywhere else that I had been ordered to proceed to Lhasa.

I added that after an Envoy had been kept waiting for a year, and had

been attacked and shot at for two months, most rulers would have refused

to allow their representative to negotiate till the capital had been

captured. We were not, however, advancing with that object. They could

see that here we were paying for all supplies we took, and the monastery

immediately outside the camp was left unmolested. I was prepared to show

like consideration on our arrival at Lhasa if we were unopposed, and I

trusted His Holiness would appreciate this concession.

The delegates assured me again that the Dalai Lama was really anxious to

make a settlement, that they had come in a peaceful manner, and had let

the army they had with them a few days ago disperse to their homes. I

had little difficulty in believing these assertions, for we had received

accounts that the Tibetan army had scattered in a panic, the Kham levies

looting in all directions. A peaceful settlement was undoubtedly,

therefore, the sincere desire of the Dalai Lama, though turbulent monks

might yet create a disturbance in Lhasa. As to the delegates being

punished if we advanced to Lhasa, I said that I myself would be punished

if we did not.

A discussion afterwards followed on the question of other foreigners

coming to Tibet if we were allowed there. I told them it was the usual

custom for neighbouring countries to have representatives at each

other’s capital, and we would probably have avoided all the

misunderstandings which led to the present troubles if we had had a

representative at Lhasa and they had had one in Calcutta. We knew,

however, their aversion to keeping a British agent at Lhasa; we were

not, therefore, pressing the point, and were only insisting upon having

trade agents at Gyantse and other marts. There would, however, in any

case, have been no reason for other foreigners establishing an agent at

Lhasa. Russia had declared that she had no intention of sending an agent

to Tibet. The delegates replied that our establishing an agent even at

Gyantse would be against their custom, and spoil their religion. I said

that I understood, then, that they were not prepared even now to agree

to our terms, and they informed me that they were only authorized to

discuss them, and they would have to be considered in the National

Assembly. “You expect me, then,” I said, “to remain out here in a

half-desert place discussing terms. I have already remained for months

together in desert places in Tibet, and can now negotiate in no other

place than Lhasa.” I begged the Chamberlain as a practical man to accept

this as inevitable, and to turn his mind now to insuring that there

should be no more useless bloodshed on the way, and that we should be

enabled by the speedy conclusion of the settlement to leave Lhasa at an

early date.

Before closing the interview, I had some conversation with the delegates

on the general question of intercourse between Tibet and India. I said

that we should be very glad if they would more frequently accept the

hospitality we were always ready to offer them in India. They would find

that in India they could travel wherever they liked, and would

everywhere be protected and welcomed. They would see, too, that though

we were Christians we not only tolerated but protected Buddhists,

Hindus, and Mohammedans. We even spent large sums of money in preserving

ancient buildings of other religions. In this camp was an officer,

Colonel Waddell, who had spent his life in studying the Buddhist

religion, and while reading the ancient books had discovered

instructions indicating exactly where the birthplace of Buddha could be

found. The British Government had spent a considerable amount of money

in clearing away forests, and the town in which Buddha was born was

actually discovered. We did not believe that every religion except our

own was wrong. On the contrary, we believed that the same God whom we

all worshipped could be approached by many different roads, and we were

ready to respect those who were travelling to the same destination,

though by a different road to that which we ourselves were following.

The delegates expressed their satisfaction that we should have studied

their religion, but the conversation soon returned to the more pressing

question of our advance to Lhasa. The Chamberlain was the most sensible,

practical man we had so far met, and I was specially polite to him, as

in the event of the flight or murder of the Dalai Lama he might be a

possible Regent. But even he had evidently very little power, and while

he was nervous throughout the interview, was clearly more nervous of his

own people than of us.