After the interview had lasted three and a half hours, I asked them to

report my words to the Dalai Lama, and I told them that I should be very

glad to see them again whenever they liked, either to discuss further

official business, or, putting official matters aside, to pay me a

friendly private visit. They took one of my Tibetan Munshis with them,

and gave him a special present of silk for Captain O’Connor, and also

told the Munshi that the man who had brought all this trouble on Tibet

was the Tung-yig-Chembo (the Chief Secretary), who was at Khamba Jong,

Gyantse, and Nagartse, but who was not present at this interview. It was

satisfactory to find that two such influential men as the Chamberlain

and the Ta Lama had discovered this, and I thought that if the man was

now cast aside, our chance of getting on terms of friendship with high

Tibetan officials would be vastly increased.

I now accepted the silk which the Dalai Lama had sent me through the

Tongsa Penlop, but which I had at the time refused to accept unless

accompanied by a letter or handed to me by one of the Dalai Lama’s own

officials. The present was mentioned in the Dalai Lama’s letter to me,

and the Chamberlain also told me the Dalai Lama begged me to accept it.

I could therefore accept it without loss of dignity. I sent him in

return a large and very handsome silver-gilt bowl.

This letter was certainly the first letter which any Dalai Lama had

written to an Englishman, and was addressed “To the Sahib sent by the

English Government to settle affairs,” and ran as follows:

"In a letter recently received by the Sha-pé from the Tongsa Penlop he

says that the establishment of friendship has now become difficult, as

the English officers with their escort say that they are about to

proceed to Lhasa to make a treaty and to meet the Dalai Lama. With this

communication the nine terms of the Convention were also received. The

National Assembly has been consulted regarding this matter, and as it

has decided for friendship it has sent a separate communication to the

British. I too, in accordance with the religious customs of Tibet, am

at present in retreat, and it would be a difficult matter for me to

meet the Sahibs. I have sent two representatives on ahead to negotiate

regarding friendship, and also the Chikyab Kenpo, who lives always near

me. It will be well if matters are discussed with my delegates there

for the sake of peace. But it is not well for the establishment of an

agreement between the two countries if you come to Lhasa contrary to my

wishes. Please consider this well. I send a scarf and have already sent

some silks separately.

“Dated the 8th day of the 6th month, Wood Dragon year.”

To this letter I replied that I was sure he would recognize the

inconvenience it would be to me now that I had left Gyantse to negotiate

at any other place than Lhasa itself, but that I would disturb His

Holiness as little as possible in his religious seclusion.

[Illustration: TA LAMA AND HIS SECRETARY.]

The Dalai Lama’s Chamberlain returned to Lhasa immediately, but on the

29th the Ta Lama, accompanied by the same Secretary of Council who was

present at the interview of July 27, again came to visit me. He

explained that the Chamberlain had returned to Lhasa to report

personally to the Dalai Lama the result of his interview with me, and he

hoped that I would wait here till the reply of the Dalai Lama should

reach me. I informed him that I could not wait here longer than the

31st, that it was not our custom to act in a dilatory manner, and that I

was indeed daily expecting a telegram from the Viceroy asking me for an

explanation of the delay which had already occurred.

During the interview, which lasted three hours, the conversation was of

a discursive nature, as the Ta Lama clearly had no power even to discuss

anything else than our advance to Lhasa. I gathered that what he and the

other delegates, and probably also the Dalai Lama himself, feared was

the turbulence of the war party among the monks of the three great

monasteries, leading to some futile collision with our troops which

would not have the slightest effect in stopping us, but which would

merely irritate us into sacking Lhasa. Probably what the Dalai Lama’s

party also feared was that these same turbulent monks might turn upon

the Dalai Lama himself and make away with him.

I told the Ta Lama that I considered it a great pity that he and the

other able councillors who had recently met me had not come to Khamba

Jong, for the Secretary of Council who had met Mr. White and me there

had not comported himself in at all a conciliatory manner; he had, in

fact, irritated us considerably, and made a peaceful settlement

impossible. This surprised me the more because the Chinese Government

had informed the Viceroy that the Dalai Lama had agreed to Khamba Jong

as the meeting-place where negotiations should take place.

The Ta Lama replied that what the Dalai Lama meant was the Khamba

_boundary_, not Khamba _Jong_. I told him that this was hardly

intelligible, as the Khamba boundary was along the top of mountains. We

clearly could not sit on the top of a mountain and negotiate: we had to

meet on either the one side or the other, and as the Amban and Tibetan

officials had come to India on the last occasion, it was natural that we

should expect to meet in Tibet on this. I added that when the Chinese

and Tibetan officials came to India we treated them as our guests, as

Mr. White, who was present at Darjiling, could testify; we provided

houses, food, and transport for them; allowed them to have their own

soldiers as escort; and took them down to Calcutta to visit His

Excellency the Viceroy. On the other hand, when Mr. White and I arrived

at Khamba Jong last year we were not even allowed to _buy_ supplies.

The Ta Lama said that what was meant by the Khamba boundary was not the

top of the mountains, but the wall at Giagong. He did not deny that

Tibetan officials had been treated as guests at Darjiling, but he said

we did not realize the great expense the Tibetan Government had incurred

in transporting them to the Indian frontier. I then asked the Ta Lama

what reason they had for originally starting this trouble, which after

all originated in their invasion of Sikkim in 1886. Why did they send

troops into the territory of a British feudatory State? We had lived for

so many years without troubling one another: why did they start a

trouble which had lasted up to the present time?

He replied that they considered Sikkim to be a feudatory of Tibet, and

the Dalai Lama was accustomed at that time to send orders to the Sikkim

chief. I said that they must surely have been aware of the treaty which

had been concluded more than twenty years previous to the Tibetan

invasion of Sikkim, between Sikkim and the British Government, by which

the former acknowledged the suzerainty of the latter. If the Tibetans

had had any objection, the proper course would have been to make

representations at the time, and not twenty years after to send troops

into Sikkim.

As regards the treaty we now wished to make with them, how would the

negotiations be conducted? I asked, and who had the final authority in

the State? The Ta Lama said that Councillors and secretaries and

representatives of the National Assembly would meet me and discuss the

terms. The final authority was the National Assembly, which was composed

of representatives from all over Tibet, but chiefly from the three great

monasteries at Lhasa. Both monks and laymen attended as well as many

officials, but the Councillors (Sha-pés) were not included in it, and

the Dalai Lama had no representative there.

I told the Ta Lama that this seemed rather extraordinary, for the

Councillors were presumably the most able men in the State, and yet

their counsels were liable to be overridden by the decision of a body of

irresponsible and less capable men. “Supposing,” I said, “that the Dalai

Lama and the Councillors wished to agree to the terms I was asking and

the National Assembly declined to agree, whose views would be adopted?”

The Ta Lama said that the Dalai Lama and the Councillors never disagreed

with the National Assembly, for the decision of the latter was final. I

said this made matters very difficult for me; for I negotiated with the

Councillors as being the leading men in the State, and yet they could

not even enter the National Assembly to report what I had said to them.

The Ta Lama said the custom was for the Councillors to send one of the

secretaries to present their views to the National Assembly. I asked who

presided, what was the number of representatives, and whether the

decision was arrived at by votes. He said no one presided, that there

were about 500 representatives, and that they arrived at a decision by

discussing till they were all of one mind.

I remarked that in these circumstances the negotiations promised to last

a considerable time. Did he think they would be concluded in a year? He

said a good deal depended upon how we proposed to set about negotiating.

If we took each point separately, and had it discussed in the National

Assembly till agreed to, the settlement might be made fairly quickly;

but if we gave the whole treaty in a lump, and said this and nothing

less must be agreed to, he did not think a settlement would ever be

made.

I told the Ta Lama that it was a matter of indifference to the British

Government how long the negotiations lasted, for we should expect the

Tibetan Government to pay for our expenses from the date of the attack

on the Mission at Gyantse till the date of the conclusion of the treaty.

The Ta Lama urged that we should not be hard on the Tibetans by

demanding an indemnity, for if we did we could never be friends. I

answered that we would not have demanded an indemnity if they had been

reasonable and had negotiated at Khamba Jong or Gyantse, but as they had

chosen to fight, and had been worsted, they must take the consequences

of their own actions.

The Ta Lama then dwelt upon the habit of the Tibetans to take plenty of

time in making decisions. They liked to think well before taking action,

and could not stand being hurried. I informed him that we also tried to

think well before taking action, but we thought quickly and acted at

once, so as to get on without delay from one thing to another. The lives

of men were short, and we wished to get through as much as possible in

the little time we were here. The Ta Lama said that their time was taken

up with the study of religion, which did not admit of hurry. During this

latter part of the discussion the Ta Lama and the Secretary laughed

heartily, then the former, after asking leave to depart, repeated, as I

was shaking hands with him, another appeal to me not to go to Lhasa.

On the same day as I was having this interview I also received from the

Chinese Resident a letter, in which he expressed sympathy with me in the

trials of my long journey, and said that the Tibetans were “dull,

unlettered men, obstinately averse to receiving advice,” and that he was

truly ashamed at the state of affairs. He said he was sending me the

Chief of the Military Secretariat to acquaint me with the condition of

affairs. He had impressed on the Dalai Lama that the Tibetans were on no

account to treat me unceremoniously, but he warned me that these

Tibetans were “cunning and insincere to a degree, and that it was

necessary to obtain guarantees from them before a settlement of anything

could be made.”

On July 31 all the troops, except a small garrison to guard the ferry,

having crossed the river, we set out again towards Lhasa. As I was

passing Chisul the Ta Lama asked me to stay for a short time to talk to

him. He said he was much surprised at our advancing, as he had

understood from me that we wished to make a settlement and be on

friendly terms, and, if we advanced, there might be disturbances. I

reminded him that I had always said we would advance, and remarked that,

if there were disturbances, the responsibility would rest upon the

Tibetan Government, for I had informed him many times, and had written

to both the Amban and the Dalai Lama to say that we would not commence

fighting, and our troops had orders not to fire unless they were fired

upon.

The Ta Lama then begged me to stay till the Chamberlain returned with

the reply from the Dalai Lama. His Holiness would not at all like our

advancing without his permission, but if we waited for his reply, we

might find that he was willing for us to advance, and he would give

orders to the Tibetan soldiers to allow us to pass. I replied that we

had already waited nearly a week at Chaksam Ferry, that there had been

plenty of time to issue such orders if there was any intention to issue

them, and that, in any case, whatever the Dalai Lama’s reply was, I

should have to advance to Lhasa.

The Ta Lama then tried to persuade me to advance with only a small

following; he said that my entering Lhasa with a large army would alarm

the Tibetans, and make the Dalai Lama think that our intentions were not

really friendly. I recalled to his remembrance that only a few minutes

before he had spoken of the possibility of disturbances. It was to

protect ourselves in case of disturbances, and to guard ourselves

against such another attack as that which was made upon me at Gyantse in

May, that we were taking a sufficient force to Lhasa.

The Ta Lama begged me not to be always harping upon what had occurred at

Gyantse. Let all that be forgotten, he said. The Tibetans were now

really anxious to make a settlement, and he would give me a promise in

writing that no harm would befall us if I went to Lhasa with only a

small following. I told him the Tibetans already had a promise in

writing from me in my letter to the Dalai Lama that we would not fight

unless opposed, and if, with that in their hands, they allowed

disturbances to occur, I should presume they were not anxious for a

settlement. I required no written promise from them not to harm us, but

relied upon their sense of self-interest not to bring on further

disturbances.

The Ta Lama, as a final effort, begged me to stay here for a day; and,

last of all, as he was shaking hands with me—a ceremony which lasted a

quarter of an hour—entreated me not to enter Lhasa city. I told him that

I had the highest admiration for his eloquence and power of persuasion,

and would have great satisfaction in telling the Dalai Lama that he

really had done his utmost to delay us. I, of course, realized the

position in which he stood, and that it was his business by every means

in his power to prevent us reaching Lhasa. At the same time, I was sure,

I said, that a man of his sense knew in the bottom of his heart that the

Tibetans were extremely fortunate in having been able to secure our

peaceful entry to Lhasa, and prevented the capture of the city by force

of arms. We had promised not to occupy Lhasa if we were not further

opposed, and with that promise they must be content.

The Ta Lama, though excessively urgent towards the close of the

interview, was perfectly polite throughout. But so extraordinarily

impracticable are these Tibetans that he evidently thought that, because

I had assured him at previous interviews that we wished to make a

friendly settlement, we were therefore committing a sort of breach of

faith in now advancing to Lhasa. I had never ceased to assure him that

we did intend to advance, but now that we actually were advancing he

regarded it as a grievance.

For the next two days we marched steadily on towards Lhasa, expecting at

each corner we turned to catch sight of the Potala in the distance, or

at least to hear from the reconnoitring parties of mounted infantry that

they had seen its gilded roofs. On August 2, at our last camp, a dozen

miles only from Lhasa, which now really could be seen in the distance, I

received the final deputation, which had come to make the last great

effort to induce us to stop. It consisted of the old Ta Lama, the

General who had met Mr. White and me at Khamba Jong, and had since been

promoted to the post of Councillor, and known as the Tsarong Sha-pé, the

Chinese official deputed by the Resident, the Abbot in private

attendance on the Dalai Lama, a Secretary of Council, and the Abbots of

the three great Lhasa monasteries. They repeated the usual requests that

we should not go to Lhasa. I reiterated my usual statements that we must

go there. They said that if we would remain where we were they would

supply us with everything—of course, on payment. The Dalai Lama’s

private Abbot made a special appeal on behalf of the religion of Tibet.

I told him I was particularly interested in hearing his views on

religion, but I trusted he would not object to my reminding him that,

while he was an eminent authority on religion, he had little experience

of politics. In political life, when a country repudiated a treaty,

declined to negotiate a new one, and attacked the Envoy who was sent for

that purpose, it was considered that that country had committed three

very serious offences, any one of which would be justification for the

capture of the capital of the offending country. In the present case,

out of consideration for the special sanctity of the city, we were

prepared, if we encountered no opposition, to abstain from capturing

Lhasa, and I trusted the Abbot would appreciate the consideration.

Perhaps if he had himself been fired on continually for two months he

would not have been equally moderate. The Abbot laughed, but remarked

that they also had had to suffer.

I promised the Abbot to respect the monasteries. If they were occupied

by soldiers, and we were fired at from them, as we were from the

monasteries round Gyantse, we should, of course, have to attack them.

But we did not wish to be obliged to resort to force, and as long as we

were not attacked we would prevent our soldiers from entering the

monasteries. I would also see that soldiers and followers did not enter

the city of Lhasa unless in attendance on an officer. The Tsarong Sha-pé

asked me to give them a written agreement to this effect. I said I

would, provided they would give me a written agreement that traders from

the city would not be prevented from coming to sell things to the

soldiers in camp, as the Gyantse traders had done. The Tsarong Sha-pé

said that this would be impossible without the consent of the National

Assembly. I told him that I could not in that case give them the written

agreement, and I rose at once and closed the Durbar.

The final effort to stop us had failed, and on August 3 we set out on

our last march. The eventful day, to which we had so long looked

forward, had at length arrived. We marched up a well-cultivated valley

two or three miles broad, bounded by steep snow-capped mountains, and

with a rapid river as wide as the Thames at Windsor running through it.

We passed numbers of little hamlets and groves of poplars and willows.

And then we saw, rising steeply on a rocky prominence in the midst of

the valley, a fort-like dominating structure, with gilded roofs, which

we knew could be none other than the Potala, the palace of the Dalai

Lama of Lhasa.

The goal of so many travellers’ ambitions was actually in sight! The

goal, to attain which we had endured and risked so much, and for which

the best efforts of so many had been concentrated, had now been won.

Every obstacle which Nature and man combined could heap in our way had

been finally overcome, and the sacred city, hidden so far and deep

behind the Himalayan ramparts, and so jealously guarded from strangers,

was full before our eyes.

[Illustration: THE GATE OF JHASA.]

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

CHAPTER XVI

THE TERMS

I have often been asked what were my feelings when I first saw

Lhasa—whether I was not filled with a sense of elation. I was filled

with nothing of the kind. It was when I left Lhasa that I really had all

that feeling of intense relief and satisfaction which everyone

experiences when he has set his heart on one great object and attained

it. When I left Lhasa I had my treaty, and—what I had always put at more

value than the treaty itself—the good-will of the people. When I arrived

at Lhasa it was very doubtful if I should be able to get a treaty at

all, and still more doubtful if I could get it with the good-will of the

people, without which any paper treaty would be useless. To negotiate a

treaty with a people acknowledged by those who knew them best—the

Chinese, the Nepalese, and the Bhutanese—to be most obstinate and

obstructive, time was required. To break through the reserve of so

exclusive a people, to make friends of men with whom we had just been

fighting, still more time was essential. Yet it was just time that was

denied me. I had pressed for it in June, but in too ineffectual a

manner, and had been rebuffed. Though this was an avowedly political

Mission, military considerations were allowed to preponderate. I could

only stay in Lhasa a month and a half or two months. We must be back

before the winter. And thus tied, I had to set to work with all speed,

but with the outward appearance of having the utmost leisure, to

negotiate the treaty. Hurried as I was, I had yet to assume an air of

perfect indifference whether the negotiations were concluded this year,

next year, or the year after. And irritated though I might be, I had

above all to exercise as much control as I could possibly bring to bear

to keep down any feelings of hastiness or exasperation, which might ruin

our chances of securing the eventual good-will of the people.

I had, then, too much before me and still too much anxiety in regard to

the very immediate present, to yet feel much elation on our first

arrival at Lhasa, and my chief thought was how to start the negotiations

without showing in what a hurry I really was.

Before, however, describing the course of the negotiations which were

now to take place, I must give an account of the terms which I had been

directed to make with the Tibetans, and the considerations on which

those demands were based. Already, before I left Gyantse, I had received

from the Government of India a copy of the despatch, dated June 30,[33]

containing their views on the terms which they had sent to the Secretary

of State. I was to understand that the proposals contained therein had

not yet been approved by His Majesty’s Government, but I was, without

committing Government, to ascertain how the Tibetan Government would

regard them.

It was the terms contained in these proposals—with the exception of

asking for the establishment of a Resident at Lhasa—of which I informed

the Tongsa Penlop, and asked him, as I have mentioned previously, to

communicate to the Dalai Lama.

The first point on which the Government of India laid stress in their

communication to the Secretary of State was the acceptance by the

Tibetans of an accredited British agent in their country, preferably in

Lhasa itself. The arguments against such a measure were largely based on

the declarations of His Majesty’s Government, and on consideration of

international policy. And apart from such considerations, the Government

of India declared themselves deeply impressed by the grave

responsibilities which they must incur by placing a resident agent at

the capital of Tibet. Still, they felt it their duty reluctantly to

assume the burden of that measure.

His Majesty’s Government had already recognized the necessity of

asserting the predominance of British influence in Tibet, and Lord

Lansdowne had clearly apprised Count Benckendorff of our attitude in

this matter. To establish such an influence it was evident that we must

now acquire something more practical than the nominal concessions

acquired by the treaty of 1890 as the fruits of our operations in 1888.

Our experience then gained showed that we could not trust to our recent

military successes leaving any lasting impression. It was difficult to

avoid the conclusion that the best guarantee for the due observance of

the new Convention, and for the adequate protection of our rights as the

only European Power _limitrophe_ with Tibet, must be that, in addition

to the appointment of officers to watch over our commercial interests at

the marts to be established in Tibet, we should demand the acceptance of

an accredited British agent in Tibet.

The place at which this agent should reside was a question on which

opinions might easily differ, and it might, the Indian Government

thought, be left open until they were in possession of the fuller

information that would be acquired after the Mission had reached Lhasa.

The arguments in favour of placing him at Lhasa were the following:

Lhasa was the pivot of the religious and political life of Tibet; it was

the seat of the Dalai Lama and his Council, with whom we had to

establish official relations; and it was the focus of the priestly

influence, which we had to conciliate or overcome. It might be argued

that it was undesirable to arouse the resentment of the Tibetans by

requiring them to receive a representative of a strange race and a

strange religion in the home of their most sacred associations. But

after the manner in which for the past fifteen years the Tibetans had

repudiated their obligations and had derided the patience with which we

had submitted to their insults, Government believed that, even should

such a feeling exist, it might be better to face it than to allow of the

misconstruction which would be placed upon the location of an agent at

any place outside Lhasa.

They saw, however, no reason why the presence of a resident agent in

Lhasa should be a lasting source of irritation. For more than eighty

years we had now had an agent at Khatmandu, a capital the isolation of

which from foreign intrusion had been guarded hardly less jealously than

that of Lhasa itself, and that by a people whose prowess had been proved

in our own armies. The hostilities which preceded the first appointment

of a British Minister at Peking, under the treaty of 1860, were also far

more serious than any opposition which had so far been encountered, or

was likely to be met with, on the way to Lhasa. The Government of India

saw, then, no reason to anticipate greater risk in placing a Resident at

Lhasa than was incurred in sending a British representative to Khatmandu

or Peking.

Despite the hostility which, under the influence and leadership of the

monkish faction, they had displayed against us, the Tibetan people had

no dislike for us as a race, and there was nothing in the tolerant

Buddhist creed which counselled hostility to strangers of a different

faith or encouraged fanaticism. The exclusion of British subjects and

Europeans was merely based on a concordat of the present dominant class

in Tibet, and was not in any way a religious obligation. The monks were

at present opposed to us, fearing the loss of their influence, but their

antipathy was based on suspicion and ignorance, and with tact and

patience it might be eradicated—a view which was supported by the

friendly relations which the Mission was able to establish at Khamba

Jong with ecclesiastical Envoys from the Tashi Lama of Shigatse.

It had always to be borne in mind that subjects of all her other

neighbours—China, Nepal, and Kashmir—were allowed freely to resort to,

and trade in, Tibet, while China and Nepal had official representatives

at Lhasa. As at Khatmandu, our agent would, like the Nepal

representative at Lhasa, abstain from all interference with the internal

administration of the country, and would confine himself to watching

over our trade interests and in guarding against the introduction of

foreign influences. His presence, therefore, at Lhasa would be in no

sense a contravention of the policy declared by His Majesty’s

Government.

As to the objection which might be raised on the grounds of the

difficulty of keeping open communication with the agent at Lhasa, the

Government of India contended that such an objection was based upon a

misapprehension, and that there was no real difficulty, except on the

southern side of the watershed, to such free passage to and from Tibet

as might be necessary for the adequate support of a British

representative, either at Lhasa or Gyantse; and our recent operations

had demonstrated that, however great the physical difficulties of

communication might be, they were not insuperable even at the worst time

of the year. Moreover, the difficulties on the Indian side of the

Himalayas would be obviated by a road through Chumbi, which they were

examining, that ran down the Amochu to the plains of Bengal, avoiding

the Jelap-la.

The Government of India felt, then, that it was a necessity to have an

agent at Lhasa, and they were quite willing to undertake the

responsibility. That was the view of the responsible Government on the

spot. The Imperial side of the question had still to be weighed, and of

that the Imperial Government would be the judge, but in regard to that

aspect the Government of India made the following observations:

Lord Lansdowne had given assurances to the Russian Ambassador, but he

had expressly added when making them that the policy then announced was

not unalterable in any eventuality, and that the action of His Majesty’s

Government was to some extent dependent on the action of the Tibetans

themselves. The Government of India did not desire to depart from the

declaration which Lord Lansdowne had made that, so long as no other

Power endeavoured to intervene in the affairs of Tibet, no attempt would

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

to control its internal administration; but they thought that recent

developments might make it incumbent upon them to recommend to His

Majesty’s Government a reconsideration of the opinion they had expressed

in their telegram of November 6, 1903, in so far as it concerned the

establishment of a permanent Mission in the country.

As to the desire not to accelerate political complications regarding the

integrity of China, the Government of India pointed out that no other

European Power adjoined Tibet or had any interests there, and that, so

far, our arrangements had been made with the cordial co-operation of the

Chinese officials deputed to meet the Mission, and it was understood

that they met with the sympathy, if not with the avowed approval, of the

Chinese Government, as was evidenced by Sir Ernest Satow’s telegram of

June 15.

So much was urged by the Government in regard to the establishment of an

agent at Lhasa. The next cardinal point in the policy which they wished

to recommend was the retention of the Chumbi Valley.

They explained that this valley lay to the south of the main watershed,

and was Indian rather than Tibetan in character. Our Mission had been

well received by the people, and Mr. Walsh, the Political Agent who had

been located among them, reported that they regarded our presence with

unmixed satisfaction, and that their only fear was lest we might

evacuate the valley, and expose them to the vengeance which the Lamas

would surely take upon them for having lived on terms of friendliness

with us. The occupation of this region was recommended by all the local

authorities as far back as 1888, was strongly urged by the Bengal

Government in Mr. Cotton’s letter, dated July 22, 1895, but was deferred

owing to Chinese susceptibilities. The contumacious disregard of the

Tibetans for their treaty obligations and for the authority of their

Suzerain had culminated in armed resistance to the passage of a friendly

Mission despatched by us with the full cognizance of that Suzerain, and

accompanied by Chinese representatives throughout. It appeared to

Government that recent developments might make it necessary to take

material guarantees. They had referred to a road through the Chumbi

Valley as desirable in order to secure the position of our

representative in Tibet, if such a one should be appointed. The route

which was projected along the Amo Chu Valley would lead into the foot of

the Chumbi Valley, and it was obviously desirable that it should

continue under our control up to the point where it debouches on to the

open plateau of Tibet beyond the Tang-la. The opening up of such a route

into Tibet proper must evidently be the precursor of any real

development of trade, and, what was of far greater importance, it would

provide one of the surest guarantees for the predominance of our

influence and the safety of our Agents in the country.

[Illustration: THE DALAI LAMA.]

It had been estimated that, if our forces had all left Tibet by October,

the cost of the expedition would not be less than £648,000. The

contingency of such an early withdrawal was remote, and it seemed

probable that the operations necessary to assert our treaty rights and

to exact reparation from the Tibetans would cost us not less than a

million sterling.

The Indian Government were, therefore, of opinion that, as a guarantee

for the fulfilment of the Convention, and as a security for the payment

of the indemnity, that they proposed to require, as well as in the

interests of the people of the valley themselves, the occupation of the

Chumbi Valley for such period as might be necessary for the due

protection of our treaty rights, and international interests would

become inevitable.

The next point to be considered was this question of demanding an

indemnity.

Now that it had become necessary to send a regular military expedition

to Lhasa, Government submitted that they had a good claim to be recouped

the expense to which they had been put. It was obvious that the

retention of the Chumbi Valley would not, from a monetary point of view,

be an adequate return for the outlay in which they had been involved,

and Government thought it well to put forward a claim to compensation

against the Tibetans. Further, they considered that, having regard to

the recent attacks upon their Mission at Gyantse, and as a measure

calculated to increase the security of their representative in Tibet,

they should follow the precedent of the demands presented by the allied

Powers to the Chinese Government after the events of 1900, and should

insist on the razing of all fortified positions which might impede the

course of free communication between our frontier and Lhasa, and on the

prohibition of the importation of arms into Tibet or their manufacture

within the country except with their special permission.

Finally the Government of India discussed what might be done if His

Majesty’s Government declined to agree to the appointment of a

representative at Lhasa. In that case they would urge that a Resident

Agent should be posted at Gyantse, whose functions would primarily be to

supervise and maintain the trading facilities which we must undoubtedly

secure. Although the duties of such an agent would be mainly commercial,

they would necessarily comprise that of seeing that the Convention or

treaty which we should eventually conclude with the Tibetan Government

was observed in all respects. The agent should, therefore, have the

right of proceeding to Lhasa, as occasion might require, to discuss

matters with the Chinese Amban or with the high officials of the Dalai

Lama.

In making the terms of his appointment Government considered that the

grounds and conditions of our self-restraint in this matter should be

clearly indicated to the Tibetans. It should be explained that His

Majesty’s Government consented to waive their claim to the appointment

of a Resident Agent at Lhasa solely out of regard for the Tibetan desire

to maintain their freedom from contact with European influence at the

political and religious capital of their country; that they were

prepared to forego this demand, so long as the Tibetan Government

preserved an attitude of isolation from external affairs, and avoided

all intercourse with other European Powers; but that, in the event of

any departure by the Tibetans from this policy in the future, the

British Government would reserve to themselves the right to require the

acceptance of an agent at the capital itself.

Government considered, however, that this alternative, the least which

could be contemplated, was not calculated, in the same degree, to afford

a guarantee of satisfactory results. An agent at Gyantse, though

possibly in greater personal security, would probably not be in so good

a position for knowing what transpired in political circles at Lhasa.

But whether or not a British agent was established in Tibet, Government

considered that recent events justified their requiring from the

Tibetans and from the Chinese Government a formal recognition of our

exclusive political influence in Tibet, and an engagement that they

would not admit to Tibet the representative of, that they would cede no

portion of Tibetan territory to, and that they would enter into no

relations regarding Tibet with, any other foreign Power, without the

previous consent of the British Government.

Turning to less contentious matter, namely, that of facilities for trade

with Tibet, to secure which was the primary object of the Mission when

it was originally despatched on an errand, which was then indubitably

peaceful in character and intention, Government contended that it was,

of course, necessary to insist on access for purposes of trade to

convenient centres in Tibet proper in the place of Yatung, which was

beyond all question unsuitable for the object for which it was intended.

In Central Tibet present information led to the belief that the town of

Gyantse provided the site which was best fitted to our requirements.

And, in view of recent developments, they thought that it might be

advisable to insist on the opening up to trade of the neighbouring town

of Shigatse, the seat of the Tashi Lama, and also of Lhasa itself, if a

British Resident should be posted to the capital. They considered, too,

that the present opportunity should be taken of completing the road to

the frontier, and of opening another market at Gartok or some other

convenient place in Western Tibet, which, with its vicinity to Chinese

Turkestan, might acquire considerable importance in the future.

It would be useless at the present stage, the Government of India

thought, to enter into details of the draft Convention, of the trade

regulations, of the terms as to Customs duty, of the arrangements in

regard to mining rights and concessions which appeared to be necessary,

and of the boundary settlements on the Sikkim and Garhwal Frontiers

which stood for decision. These questions must first be discussed by

their Commissioner with the representatives of the Tibetan Government.

Summarized, the proposals of the Government of India were: the placing

of a Resident at Lhasa, or, failing that, an agent at Gyantse, with the

right to proceed to Lhasa; the formal recognition of exclusive political

influence; the demand of an indemnity; the occupation of the Chumbi

Valley as security; the establishment of trade-marts at Gyantse, Yatung,

Shigatse, and Gartok; the settlement of the Sikkim and Garhwal

boundaries, Customs duties, and trade regulations. The amount of the

indemnity to be demanded was not mentioned in the despatch, but in a

telegram to me, giving a summary, and which was also sent to the

Secretary of State on June 26, it was suggested that it should be

£100,000 for every month from the date of the attack on the Mission at

Gyantse until one month after the signature of the Convention.

These proposals appeared to His Majesty’s Government to be excessive,

and after some telegraphic communication with the Government of India

the Secretary of State telegraphed on July 26[34] the terms which might

be named to the Tibetans, and which the Government embodied in a draft

Convention which they afterwards sent to me.

Neither at Lhasa nor elsewhere was a Resident to be demanded. Provisions

for the maintenance of our exclusive political influence in Tibet were

to be made. An indemnity was to be asked, though the sum to be demanded

was not to exceed an amount which it was believed would be within the

power of the Tibetans to pay, by instalments, if necessary, spread over

three years, but I was “to be guided by circumstances in the matter.”

Trade-marts were to be established at Gyantse and Gartok in addition to

Yatung, and a British agent was to have right of access to the Gyantse

mart; the Chumbi Valley was to be occupied as security for the indemnity

and for the fulfilment of the conditions regarding the trade-marts; the

boundary laid down in the Convention of 1890 was to be recognized; the

two Sikkim-British subjects who had been captured in 1903 were to be

released; fortifications were to be demolished.

In amplification and explanation of these telegraphic instructions the

Secretary of State, on August 5, addressed to the Government of India a

despatch,[35] setting forth the deliberate policy of His Majesty’s

Government. They had to consider the question, not as a local one

concerning India and Tibet alone, but from the wider point of view of

the relations of Great Britain to other Powers, both European and

Asiatic, and as involving the status of a dependency of the Chinese

Empire. Formerly European nations and their interests were, in the main,

far removed from the scope of Indian policy, and the relations of India

with the States on her borders rarely involved any European

complications; but the effect of Indian policy in relation to

Afghanistan, Siam, Tibet, or any other dependency of the Chinese Empire

was now liable to be felt throughout Europe. This immediate

responsibility towards Europe, which Indian policy nowadays imposed on

this country, necessarily involved its correlative, and the course of

affairs on the Indian frontiers could not be decided without reference

to Imperial exigencies elsewhere.

His Majesty’s Government had also been consistently averse to any policy

in Tibet which would tend to throw on the British Empire an additional

burden. The great increase to our responsibilities, however necessary,

which recent additions to the Empire had involved, made it obvious that

it would be imprudent further to enlarge them except upon the strongest

ground. In military and naval matters the resources of Great Britain and

India must be considered together. India had from time to time given

effective and ready help in the defence of British interests and British

Colonies. On the other hand, it had to be remembered that the British

army largely existed in order to defend India, and every new obligation

undertaken by India was as much a charge upon the common stock of our

heavily burdened resources as if it were placed upon the people of this

country.

The satisfactory nature of the assurances given by Russia in regard to

Tibet rendered it unnecessary and undesirable that any demand for the

recognition of a Political Agent, either at Gyantse or at Lhasa, should

be made to the Tibetans. His Majesty’s Government held that such a

political outpost might entail difficulties and responsibilities

incommensurate with any benefits which, in the situation created by the

Russian assurances, could be gained by it.

They did not even consider it desirable to claim for the agent, who

under the Trade Regulations would have access to Gyantse, the right in

certain circumstances to proceed to Lhasa. The effect of this proposal,

they considered, would be to alter the character of the duties of the

agent, which, it was intended, should be essentially commercial, and to

assimilate them to those of a Political Resident.

“As regards the amount of the indemnity,” continues the despatch, “our

ignorance of the resources of the country makes it impossible to speak

with any certainty. The question, in the circumstances, must be left to

the discretion of Colonel Younghusband. The condition that the amount

should be one which, it is estimated, can be paid in three years,

indicates the intention of His Majesty’s Government that the sum to be

demanded should constitute an adequate pecuniary penalty, but not be

such as to be beyond the powers of the Tibetans, by making a sufficient

effort, to discharge within the period named.”

This despatch did not reach me till after the Treaty was signed.

-----

Footnote 33:

Blue-book, III., p. 33.

Footnote 34:

Blue-book, III., p. 42.

Footnote 35:

Blue-book, III., p. 45.

-----

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

CHAPTER XVII

THE NEGOTIATIONS

The very day that we arrived at Lhasa I made a commencement at

negotiating a treaty based on the terms set forth in the preceding

chapter. I had already, before I left Gyantse and before Government had

made up their minds as to the terms which should be asked, told the

Tongsa Penlop informally what we were likely to ask, so that the

Tibetans might have a rough idea of our demands; and as the Chinese

Resident had intimated to me that he would come and visit me on the

afternoon of our arrival, I thought it well to make a start with him at

once.

The interview was interesting, for I had been waiting a year to see this

Amban. I had seen Chinese officials in Peking; I had seen them at the

extreme eastern end of the Empire in Manchuria; I had seen them at the

extreme western end, in Chinese Turkestan; and I now saw them here at

Lhasa. They were always exactly the same; in their official robes,

dressed precisely alike, with the same good manners, the same dignity,

the same air of something very much akin to superiority, and with the

same evidence of solid intellectual capacity and sterling character. The

Resident, Yu-tai, was not different from the rest. He was not, indeed,

strikingly clever, and I did not see him at his best, for the

recalcitrance of the Tibetans had put him in a most humiliating

position, which he must have felt or he would not have paid me a visit

before I had visited him. But he kept up appearances and made a brave

show with all the aplomb of his race, and I had a real feeling of relief

in talking to a man of affairs after so many long, dreary and

ineffectual interviews with the obtuse and ignorant Tibetans.

I received him, as, indeed, I had received the Tibetans all through, at

official interviews, in full dress uniform, with all my Political Staff

in similar dress. He made the usual polite inquiries, and then said that

he wished to work with me in effecting a speedy settlement with the

Tibetans. He had hoped to meet me before, and had hastened to Lhasa at

unusual speed, but the Tibetans had refused to furnish him with

transport, and he had, therefore, been unable to proceed beyond Lhasa. I

said I quite appreciated the difficulties he must have had with the

Tibetans, for I had had some experience of them now, and a more

obstructive people I had never come across. He agreed that they were an

exceedingly obstinate people. He said he feared I must have had a very

unpleasant time at Gyantse, and I told him that we had come there to

negotiate, and not to fight, and therefore had very few soldiers with us

at the time the attack was made. Later on, General Macdonald arrived

with reinforcements, and the Tibetans had to suffer heavily for their

misconduct. On the present occasion, however, we had come ready either

to negotiate or to fight. We were prepared to negotiate; but if the

Tibetans were obstinate, we would not hesitate to fight. I should be

glad if he would impress upon the Tibetans with all his power that we

were no longer to be trifled with.

I added that one of the conditions we intended to impose was an

indemnity, to cover part of the cost of military operations, and I

should be asking them Rs. 50,000 per diem from the date the Mission was

attacked up to a month after the date the Convention was signed. Every

day they took in negotiation would cost them Rs. 50,000, so the sooner

they concluded an agreement the better. The Amban thought this would be

an effective way of dealing with them, and he promised to urge the

Tibetans to be reasonable, and make a settlement without further loss of

time.

The Resident made a special present of food to the troops, and he had

already, at my request, collected two days’ supplies.

The next day I had to return his visit, and now arose a problem. His

residence was on the far side of the city, and the point was whether we

should ride through Lhasa or round it. It was risky to ride through this

sacred city, swarming with monks who had organized the opposition

against us. We had been so recently fighting against them that we could

not be sure of their attitude. Peace was not yet concluded, and they had

shown no signs, so far, of really negotiating, but had, on the contrary,

been doing their best to stave us off from Lhasa. So our reception was

uncertain, and, if anything happened to us, the matter-of-fact,

common-sense person at home would, without compunction, have criticized

me for running the risk without any necessity. But from my point of view

there was a necessity. All this trouble had arisen through the Tibetans

being so inaccessible and keeping themselves so much apart; and now I

meant to close in with them, to break through their seclusion, to brush

aside their exclusiveness, and to let them see us and us see them as the

inhabitants of the rest of the world see each other; and I meant to make

a beginning at once. So I determined now, on the very first day after

our arrival, to ride right through the heart of the city of Lhasa.

The Chinese Resident sent his bodyguard with pikes, and three-pronged

spears, and many banners to escort us, and of our own troops I took two

companies of the Royal Fusiliers and the 2nd Mounted Infantry. Two guns

and four companies of infantry were also kept in readiness in camp to

support us at a moment’s notice.

[Illustration: THE POTALA, LHASA.]

Many a traveller had pined to look on Lhasa, but now we were actually in

this sacred city, it was, except for the Potala, a sorry affair. The

streets were filthily dirty, and the inhabitants hardly more clean than

the streets; the houses were built of solid masonry, but as dirty as the

streets and inhabitants; and the temples we passed, though massive, were

ungainly. Only the Potala was imposing; it rose from the squalid town at

its base in tier upon tier of solid, massive masonry, and, without any

pretence at architectural beauty or symmetry, was impressive from its

sheer size and strength and dominating situation.

We passed numbers of clean-shaven, bare-headed monks from the great

monasteries round, one of which alone held 8,000. They were a dirty,

degraded lot, and we all of us remarked how distinctly inferior they

were to the ordinary peasantry and townsmen we met. The monks, as a

rule, looked thoroughly lazy and sensual and effete; the countrymen and

the petty traders in the town were hardy, cheery people, and as we rode

through the city really paid very little attention to us.

The Resident, with his staff, received me in the usual pagoda-shaped,

Chinese official residence. He again referred to the obstinate and

insubordinate attitude assumed by the Tibetans, and said that in Eastern

Tibet they had given the Chinese a great deal of trouble. I expressed my

opinion that the Tibetans were grossly ungrateful, for they owed much to

the Chinese, and certainly, after the Sikkim campaign, they would not

have come off so easily in the ensuing settlement if the Chinese had not

interceded on their behalf. It was merely on account of the friendly

feeling we entertained towards the Chinese that the settlement we then

made was so light. Now, however, that they had repudiated the settlement

which the Amban had made on their behalf, and had otherwise offended us,

the new settlement would, of course, be more severe, and I should be

greatly obliged if the Amban would make them understand from the start

that the terms which I was going to demand from them would have to be

accepted.

The Amban asked me if I would give him the terms. I replied that if he

would send over one of his Secretaries to Mr. Wilton, he would inform

him of them and explain them to him, and the Amban and I could then talk

the matter over at an early opportunity.

I then asked the Amban if he would get the Tibetans to depute two or

three representatives for the special purpose of negotiating a

settlement with me. A variety of delegates had been sent to meet me on

the way up, but it was desirable that the same men, without change,

should continue to negotiate with me till the settlement was arrived at.

The Amban promised to arrange this. After apologizing for introducing

business matters into the conversation during my first visit to him, I

took leave of the Amban and returned to camp by a détour through the

heart of the city.

[Illustration: MISSION QUARTERS, LHASA.]

Two of the Councillors, with two Secretaries, called upon me on the

following day with 280 coolie-loads of tea, sugar, dried fruits, flour,

peas, and butter, and bringing also 20 yaks, 50 sheep, and Rs. 1,500 in

cash. With the object of getting into the next best house in Lhasa, I

made a pretence of wishing to go into the Dalai Lama’s Summer Palace,

which was in the plain close by, and eventually arranged that the house

of the first Duke in Tibet should be at my disposal. This would contain

the whole of my staff, as well as an escort of two companies, and was

therefore, both for purposes of possible defence and also for

receptions, much more suitable than a camp in the open plain.

I had now got into touch with both the Chinese Resident and the highest

Tibetan officials, and I was also on the same day—August 5—to see the

two men who were eventually to be of the greatest help to me as

intermediaries—the Nepal representative who was permanently stationed at

Lhasa, and the old Tongsa Penlop of Bhutan, who had just arrived from

Gyantse.

Captain Jit Bahadur had been many years in Lhasa, and was much

respected. He had very courteous manners, and was much more quick and

alert than the Tibetans. He had orders from his Government to give me

every assistance, and no one could have been more helpful.

The Tongsa Penlop had neither the local knowledge nor the quickness of

Captain Jit Bahadur; but he was a man of more importance—he is indeed

now Maharaja of Bhutan—and his representations carried weight. He and

Mr. White soon made a firm friendship, and together they did much to

bring the negotiations through.

There was still no sign, though, of any definite delegates being

appointed to negotiate with me, and on August 8 I had to report to

Government that the Tibetan Government was in utter confusion. My old

friend the Ta Lama had been disgraced, as, poor man, he always told me

he would be if we advanced to Lhasa. My other friend the Yutok Sha-pé,

who had met me at Nagartse, had very sensibly, or perhaps naturally,

gone sick. Of the two remaining Councillors, one was useless and the

other inimical. The National Assembly sat continuously, but only

criticized what anyone did, and was afraid to do anything itself without

reference to the Dalai Lama. And the Dalai Lama, who had fled on our

approach to Lhasa and was three days distant, would not in his turn act

without sanction of the Assembly. Everyone was in fear, not now of us,

but of his next-door neighbour: and each was working against the other.

No attempt at commencing negotiations had been made, though I had given

the Resident an outline of our terms. The Tongsa Penlop and the Nepalese

representative constantly visited me, but expressed despair at the

silliness of the Tibetans, and said their heads ached with arguing with

them. The general attitude of the Tibetans, though exasperating, was, I

thought, probably more futile and inept than intentionally hostile, But

yet it was not easy to see then how in my limited time I was to get a

definite treaty signed, sealed, and delivered out of such an intangible,

illusive, un-get-at-able set of human beings as I now found in front of

me.

The very next day, though, a ray of light appeared which was in the end

to show the way to a solution of our difficulties. The Nepalese

representative came to inform me that on the previous night he went to

see the Ti Rimpoche, the Regent to whom the Dalai Lama had handed over

his seal, and had explained to him that matters were getting serious.

The Regent replied that he and the Dalai Lama’s brother were anxious to

make a settlement, and were of opinion that the Government terms might

well be accepted with two or three modifications. The Regent thought

that the amount of indemnity I had named—Rs. 50,000 a day—was excessive.

And he would ask that if they released the two Lachung men we should

release the yaks and men whom we had seized last year in retaliation.

With those modifications he thought the National Assembly might

reasonably accept our terms.

[Illustration: THE COUNCIL.]

The Nepalese representative said the Regent was a moderate man, more

inclined to make a peaceful settlement than the generality of the

National Assembly. Captain Jit Bahadur having hinted that the Regent and

the Dalai Lama’s brother were anxious to visit me, I told him to let the

Regent know that I would be glad to receive him; and I asked him to tell

the Regent from me that we had no wish to be other than on friendly

terms with the Tibetans. We had no desire to make war upon them or

object to gain by it; we did not wish to annex their country; and the

Viceroy had given me the very strictest orders to respect their

religion, so that when I heard from him (the Nepalese representative)

and the Tongsa Penlop that the Tibetans considered the Summer Palace a

sacred building, I had consented to take up my residence elsewhere, even

though at inconvenience to myself. But while we had thus no wish to make

war, and were prepared to respect their religion, the Tibetans were

putting me in a very difficult position. They had asked me to stop

hostilities, saying they wished to make a settlement, but although they

had been acquainted with the terms for three weeks, and I had already

been here a week, yet not one word of negotiation had yet passed between

me and them. Nor had they made proper efforts to furnish the troops with

supplies. If they failed to negotiate, what could I do? It seemed to me

that the Tibetans were like men in a bog. They were sinking deeper and

deeper. Last year they were in up to their knees only. A month ago they

were up to their waists. Now they were up to their necks. And in a short

time, if they would not accept the hand which was stretched out to them

by the Regent, they would be in over their heads.

I called upon the Chinese Resident on the 10th and impressed upon him

the responsibility which lay on the Chinese Government to induce the

Tibetans to make a settlement. He said he was most anxious to work with

me, and had sent a message to the Dalai Lama to return. But I heard from

other sources that the Dalai Lama was now eight marches off, and had

with him the Siberian Buriat Dorjieff, to whom the Tibetans attributed

all their troubles, but who was reported to have very sagaciously

advised the Dalai Lama to retire for a bit, as the English would soon

calm down and disappear again like the bubbles in boiling water which

subside when the water has cooled.

The Tibetans’ so-called reply to our terms was the next day communicated

by the Resident’s secretary to Mr. Wilton. The Tibetans refused each

single point, and said that an indemnity was due from us to them rather

than from them to us. The only trade-mart they would concede was

Rinchengong, which was scarcely two miles beyond Yatung. I had the

document returned to the Resident with a message that I could not

officially receive so preposterous a reply.

The Resident called upon me the next day and said he had received a

reply to our terms, but it was so impertinent he could not even mention

it to me officially. He had sent it back to the Tibetans censuring them

for their stupidity, and ordering them to send a more fit reply. He had

pointed out to them their folly in not settling with us, and how

impossible it was for them to contend against us.

He then made a singularly interesting remark. The ordinary people, he

said, were not at all ill-disposed towards us. They liked us, and were

anxious to trade with us. Reports of our treatment of the wounded, and

of the liberal payment we made for supplies, had spread about the

country, and the people in general would be glad enough to make a

settlement and be on good terms. Where the opposition came from was from

the Lamas, more especially those of the three great monasteries. They

and they alone were the obstructionists, and if they were out of the way

there would be no more trouble, and the people would speedily be friends

with us.

I told the Amban that this was extremely interesting and gratifying to

hear, and that what he had said entirely bore out my own conclusions. It

made me all the more sorry that so many of these poor peasants with whom

we had no quarrel, and who only wished to be friendly with us, should

have been killed, and this was one consideration which was restraining

us from fighting now. I had on several occasions during the recent

fighting gone round the dead Tibetans, and invariably found that they

were peasants. A Lama was never seen. If we could be quite sure that the

originators of all this fighting would fight themselves, I was not sure

that we would have been so ready to suspend hostilities.

Before the close of his visit I asked the Amban if the Nepalese and

Kashmiris kept on good terms with the Tibetans here. He replied that

they got on well enough with the ordinary people, but avoided the Lamas,

as contact with them was liable to lead to trouble. He added that the

Nepalese representative had been ordered by the Prime Minister of Nepal

to advise the Tibetans to be reasonable and come to a settlement with

us, and to tell them that the British respected the religion of others

and would not interfere with theirs. I said I had heard of this, and if

the Tibetans had only followed this good advice, which was given a year

ago, we might have settled up everything at Khamba Jong. What the Prime

Minister of Nepal had said about the tolerance of other religions was

perfectly true. We had many millions of Buddhists under our rule, about

200,000,000 Hindus, and 70,000,000 Mohammedans. The Tibetan fear that we

would interfere with their religion was altogether unfounded. The Amban

replied that they were so jealous of their religion that they tried to

prevent even Chinese Buddhists of other sects from their own from

entering Tibet.

On August 13 two Sha-pés, the Dalai Lama’s private Abbot, a Secretary of

Council, and the Accountant-General paid me a formal visit. I remarked

that the Amban had told me that they had drawn up a document which they

had presented to him as a reply to our terms, but which was so

impertinent that the Amban had said he could not even mention it to me

officially. The deputation replied that they were really anxious to make

a settlement, and the document they had presented to the Amban merely

represented their views, and was not intended as a reply to me. Their

idea was to give the Amban their opinion, and he would give orders upon

it.

I asked them whether they were prepared to obey the orders of the Amban.

They said that if the Amban gave orders acceptable to both them and him

they would obey. I asked them if by that they meant that they would obey

his orders if they liked them, but would pay no attention to them if

they were not according to their taste. They replied that their idea was

that the Amban should act as a sort of mediator. We would both present

our views to him, and he would decide between us, and make a settlement

satisfactory to both. When they had stated their case to him they had no

intention to be impertinent; they were a small people, and ignorant of

the ways of great nations; they thought that if they asked much at

first, they might not obtain all they asked, but would obtain a part.

I told them I had already warned the Amban that I was not here to act

the part of a merchant in the bazaar and haggle over terms. When I

arrived at Khamba Jong last year, I had, indeed, then been prepared to

discuss the terms of a settlement, and by give and take arrive at a

mutually satisfactory agreement. I had, for instance, announced that we

were prepared to concede the Giagong lands to them if they showed

themselves reasonable in regard to trade concessions elsewhere. But they

had declined to negotiate, and had chosen to fight. They had been

beaten, and had no further means of continuing the struggle against us.

They must, therefore, accept our terms or expect us to take still

further action against them. The terms we were now asking were extremely

moderate, but if we were compelled to undertake more military operations

they would have to be made much more severe.

They begged me to be more reasonable and to discuss things more quietly;

they said they were accustomed to talk matters over at great length;

they hoped that the Resident would be able to persuade me to be more

considerate; and they suggested that I should ask the Viceroy to let me

demand easier terms from them. I reminded them that they had been aware

of the terms for three weeks now, and I had been ready, on the way up

here, to explain them to them. I had now been ten days at Lhasa; they

had not yet come to talk to me about them; and I had heard from the

Resident that, so far from showing any inclination to agree with them,

they had written about them in very impertinent terms. They must not be

surprised, therefore, that my patience was exhausted. The terms which I

had shown them were issued by command of the British Government, and no

reference to His Excellency the Viceroy would have the slightest effect

in modifying them.

[Illustration: THE TI-RIMPOCHE]

The next day I had a much more interesting interview. The Ti Rimpoche

himself came to see me. He was the Chief Doctor of Divinity and

Metaphysics of Tibet, and was an old and much respected Lama, to whom

the Dalai Lama had left his seals of office and whom he had appointed

Regent. He remembered seeing Huc and Gabet as a boy, and he was a

cultured, pleasant-mannered, amiable old gentleman, with a kindly,

benevolent expression. He was accompanied by the Nepalese

representative, and brought with him a present of gold-dust and some

silk from the Dalai Lama’s brother.

After some polite observations, he asked me whether we English believed

in reincarnation. I said we believed that when we died our bodies

remained here and our souls went up to heaven. He said that that might

happen to the good people, but where did the bad people go to? I replied

that we had no bad: we were all good. He laughed, and said that, at any

rate, he hoped that both of us would be good during this negotiation.

Then we might both go to heaven. I said I had not the smallest doubt

that we should.

He then said he would have liked to come and see me before, but was

afraid of the Sha-pés. He told me how he had been hastily summoned by

the Dalai Lama a few weeks ago, but on his arrival had found the Dalai

Lama had fled. He had greatly disliked taking up political business, for

he had spent his whole life in religious study, and was altogether

ignorant of the methods of public affairs. But the Sha-pés and people in

the palace had given him a message from the Dalai Lama, handing over the

Dalai Lama’s seal to him, and telling him he was to act as Regent during

the Dalai Lama’s absence.

The Ti Rimpoche then stated that what he had come to see me about was to

ask me to show consideration towards their religion, and not destroy

their monasteries. When he had come to look into affairs, he had

convinced himself that those responsible for the conduct of them had

acted very stupidly, and should have made a settlement with us long ago.

Now they were beaten and had to accept our terms, but he hoped we would

show them consideration. They were sending to the Dalai Lama to return,

and he thought he ought to be here to make a settlement with us.

I told him that I thoroughly sympathized with him in the very unpleasant

position in which he was placed. Others had brought trouble upon the

country, and he had been called in at the last moment to repair the

mischief. But while he was in an awkward position, I hoped he would

realize the difficulty in which I also was placed. I had received the

orders of the Viceroy to show the utmost consideration to their

religion. I had also received orders to make a settlement on the terms

which had been determined on by the British Government. But the

settlement on these terms had to be made with the National Assembly,

which was almost entirely composed of ecclesiastics. The Resident had

told me yesterday that the reply which they had made to our terms was so

impertinent that he dare not even mention it to me officially. If, then,

this assembly of ecclesiastics refused our terms, what was I to do? I

had to show consideration to them and their monasteries because of their

sacred calling. I had also to get my terms agreed to. Could he suggest

any way of doing this except by force?

The Ti Rimpoche said he altogether disagreed with the reply which had

been sent to the Amban, but the others were determined to send it; not

that they really meant what they said, but they thought that if they put

their case strongly at the beginning, they might get easier terms out of

me. He again begged me, however, to show consideration.

I said I would be very much obliged to him if he would at the earliest

opportunity try to persuade the National Assembly that I was not here to

bargain over terms. I was here, by direction of the Viceroy, to carry

out the commands of the British Government in making a settlement. The

terms of that settlement were drawn up with an especial regard for their

religion. We were annexing no part of Tibet; we were not asking for an

agent here at Lhasa itself; but we had to ask for an indemnity, because

the military operations which had been forced on us in 1888 and in the

present year had cost a very great deal of money. The Tibetans had

caused the trouble. We had, therefore, to ask them to pay at least a

part of the expense. We knew, however, that Tibet was too poor a country

to pay the whole. We were, therefore, asking scarcely half of the real

cost, and we expected that the Tibetans would give us, who had to suffer

by having to pay the remainder of the cost, the advantage of being able

to come to Tibet to buy wool and other things which were produced more

cheaply here than in India, and of selling to the Tibetans the surplus

of articles produced more cheaply in India.

The Regent said he thought this quite reasonable, and he would explain

my view to the National Assembly. As to the Dalai Lama, I said I was

quite prepared to give him the most positive assurance that he would be

safe from us if he returned here. I did not wish to discuss personally

with him the details of the settlement, but wished him to affix his seal

in my presence; and it would certainly be more convenient if he were

nearer Lhasa for reference during the negotiations. The Regent said he

would send two messengers to him to-morrow, advising him to return. The

trouble was, though, that he had nobody about him to advise him

properly. At the close of the interview I told the Ti Rimpoche that I

should be glad to see him again. He was an old man, and was, I knew,

very busy just now, but whenever he liked to come and talk with me I

should be most pleased to receive him.

The first sign of yielding came on August 15, when the Resident

intimated to me that he had pressed the Tibetan Government to make a

start towards a settlement by releasing the two Lachung men (British

subjects) who had been seized last year beyond Khamba Jong, and that the

Tibetan Government had agreed. He wished to know when and in what manner

they should be handed over. I informed him that they should be handed

over to me the next morning by two members of the Council.

That morning I held a full Durbar, and two members of Council,

accompanied by two Lamas, brought the two Lachung men before me. I told

the men, who showed the liveliest satisfaction at their impending

release, that I had received the commands of the King-Emperor to obtain

their release from the Tibetan Government, and they were now free. His

Majesty had further commanded that if they had been ill-treated

reparation should be demanded from the Tibetan Government. I wished to

know, therefore, if they had been ill-treated or not. They said they had

been slightly beaten at Shigatse, and their things had been taken from

them, but since their arrival in Lhasa they had been well fed and had

not been beaten. I told them that they would be examined by a medical

officer, to ascertain if their statements were correct.

I then turned to the Tibetan Councillors and said that the King-Emperor

considered the seizure, imprisonment, and beating of two of his subjects

as an exceedingly serious offence. It formed one of the main reasons why

the Mission had moved forward from Khamba Jong to Gyantse, and one of

the principal terms of the settlement, which I had been commanded to

make at Lhasa itself, was the release of these men. If the Tibetan

Government had not cared to have them in Tibet they should have returned

them across the frontier, or, in any case, have handed them over to us

at Khamba Jong. Their seizure and imprisonment for a year was altogether

unpardonable. I trusted they now understood that the subjects of the

King-Emperor could not be ill-treated with impunity, and that we would

in future, as we did now, hold them strictly responsible for the good

treatment of British subjects in Tibet.

The Lachung men were then taken out and examined by a medical officer,

in the presence of Mr. White and two Tibetan officials. The medical

officer reported that there were no signs on their bodies of their

having been beaten, and that they were in good condition. On receiving

this report I expressed my satisfaction that the ill-treatment had not

been severe. I would not, therefore, press the matter of reparation; but

imprisonment for a year was in itself sufficiently bad treatment to

British subjects who had committed no offence, and we expected that no

British subjects would ever be so treated again. The Sha-pés promised to

respect the subjects of His Majesty in future. They expressed their

pleasure that one of the terms of the settlement had been concluded, and

hoped, now a start was made, an agreement would quickly be come to. It

was, at any rate, their intention to proceed as rapidly as possible in

their discussions. It subsequently transpired that the two men had been

kept separately in dungeons, twenty-one steps below the surface of the

ground, and had not seen daylight for nearly a year. But as they were in

excellent health and well fed, and as we had, while at Khamba Jong,

seized over 200 yaks in retaliation, I did not pursue the matter

farther. The most satisfactory feature in this affair was the fact that

the release had taken place entirely on the initiative of the Amban.

I visited the Resident on the following day, and thanked him for

procuring the release of the two Sikkim men. He said he would denounce

the Dalai Lama to the Emperor if he did not come back, and would summon

the Tashi Lama, with a view to making him the head of the whole Buddhist

Church in Tibet. He also said that he recognized the Ti Rimpoche, who

held the seal left by the Dalai Lama, as the principal in the

negotiations. This was a decided advance, though it had taken a

fortnight of my precious six weeks to make; and I was also able to

report to Government that the general situation was certainly improving;

that supplies, which at first we had been only able to secure by the

threat of force and by surrounding a monastery, were now coming in

steadily; and people were showing growing confidence, while even the

National Assembly were slowly giving way, and the party in favour of

settlement were increasing in influence.

On August 19 the Resident visited me, and handed to me the second reply

of the Tibetan Government to his letter forwarding to them the terms of

the settlement we now wished to make with them. The first reply he had

been unable to forward, as it was too impudent. This second reply, he

said, I would find on perusal was more satisfactory, though it still

fell short of what he would expect the Tibetans to agree to.

I told the Resident that I found it difficult to make the Tibetans

realize that the main points in the settlement we should expect them to

agree to without question. The period in which the indemnity was to be

paid might be a matter for discussion, but there was no question as to

its having to be paid some time. Similarly, they must agree to having

marts at Gyantse and Gartok. I remarked that I had all along been of

opinion that nothing could be got out of these Tibetans except by

pressure, and I was fully prepared to act. At the same time, it would be

much more satisfactory if the needful pressure could be put on by the

Resident, as I had no wish to take more action unless absolutely

compelled to.

I added that a difficulty I experienced in dealing with the Tibetans was

in talking with so many representatives at the same time. Half a dozen

delegates would come to me, and each one insist upon having his say, and

no responsible head was recognized. The Amban said that he, too, had had

this difficulty, but that he had recognized the Regent as the principal

in these negotiations, and from now on he intended to negotiate with him

alone; he was the best man among the leading Tibetans, and came next

after the Dalai Lama in the Lhasa province. I said this seemed to me a

wise course, for I had found the Regent a sensible man, and he was much

respected by the people.

As regards the Convention itself, the Amban said he would have to

discuss the clause regarding trade-marts with me. I said I was prepared

to talk the matter over, but we should have to insist upon establishing

trade-marts at Gyantse and Gartok, and I did not understand the Tibetan

objections to the establishment of a mart at Gyantse, for we had the

right more than a century ago to have one even at Shigatse. This right

had not been exercised for a great number of years, but at one time

Indian traders visited Shigatse regularly.

We now received certain information that the Dalai Lama had finally

fled. He had written to the National Assembly, saying that the English

were very crafty people, and warning them to be careful in making an

agreement with them, and to bind them tight. He added that he himself

would go away and look after the interests of the faith. His departure

was not regretted by Tibetans.

The Ti Rimpoche and others came to me on the 21st with silks to the

value of Rs. 5,000, which I had imposed as a fine for the assault which

a monk with a sword had made just outside our camp on Captains

Cooke-Young and Kelly, dealing the former a very severe blow over the

head. After this the Ti Rimpoche, the Tongsa Penlop, and the Nepalese

representative proceeded to talk over the general situation. The Ti

Rimpoche said that he himself had no objection to our terms except in

regard to the indemnity, which he thought was too heavy, as Tibet was a

poor country. He pointed out the difficulty which the Tibetans had found

in paying up the small fine I had imposed on them, and asked how they

could be expected to pay the sum of Rs. 50,000 a day which I was

demanding. He said, of course, we thought ourselves in the right in this

quarrel, but it was difficult for him to make the Assembly acquiesce in

this view, and it might be well if I would impress our views upon them.

I said that if only they had behaved more sensibly in the beginning all

this trouble would have been saved: there would have been no war, and no

indemnity would have been asked. We had not wished for war, and I had

gone with Captain O’Connor, without any escort, into their camp at Guru

in January to reason quietly with the leaders there, and ask them to

report my views to Lhasa. If we had wanted war I should never have so

acted. That I did was proof that we wished for peace. But they refused

to report my words to Lhasa, and hence this trouble. The Ti Rimpoche

here interpolated that they were afraid to report anything to the Dalai

Lama. I went on to say that it was not fair to expect India to pay all

the cost of a war brought on by the foolishness of the Tibetan rulers,

so we had to ask that the Tibetans should pay part of the sum. Yet even

now we were not asking for more than half of the whole cost. I was

demanding Rs. 50,000 a day from the date of the attack on the Mission

till a month after the date on which the Convention was signed. The Ti

Rimpoche would note that I was not asking payment from the date of the

Guru fight, because that fight might have been due to mere foolishness

on the part of the leaders, but from the date when the Tibetans

deliberately attacked the Mission at Gyantse, after I had repeatedly

notified that I had come to negotiate. From that date, therefore, we

expected them to contribute to the cost of military operations.

The Ti Rimpoche had said that the Tibetans had very little cash. If that

was so, I was prepared to consider the question of extending the period

in which the payment of the indemnity could be made. I would also

consider whether some of it could not be paid in kind to the trade agent

in Gyantse and the officer commanding in Chumbi. The Ti Rimpoche said he

wished the settlement with us to be fully completed now, so that we

could have it over and be friends; but if the Tibetans had to go on

paying us an indemnity for some years after, the raw would be kept up,

and friendship would be difficult. I replied that if they would now at

once pay the indemnity, we should be only too glad. But, in any case, we

would not on our side harbour any ill-feelings towards the Tibetans,

with whom we had no other desire than to live on terms of friendship.

The Tongsa Penlop then said that Tibet, Nepal, and Bhutan were bound

together by the same religion, and all bordered on India. They ought,

therefore, to look on England as their friend and leader. The English

had no wish to interfere with them, but did not like anyone else

interfering. They ought to stand together, therefore, for if one was

hurt all were hurt. They could rely, however, on their big neighbour

England to help them in time of trouble if they kept on good terms with

her. The Nepalese representative agreed with the Tongsa Penlop that all

four countries should be on terms of friendship with one another, and

that Tibet, Nepal, and Bhutan should always preserve good relations with

their neighbour England. The Ti Rimpoche said he trusted that when this

settlement was made Tibet and England would always be on terms of

friendship. The Tibetans had no wish to have relations with any other

Power, and desired now to keep on good terms with England. I replied

that we had been on perfectly good terms with Tibet for more than a

century up till the time of the Sikkim War, and I hoped that when the

present settlement was made we should be friends for ever.

I visited the Resident on August 21, and told him I had perused the

Tibetan reply to him which he had handed to me at our last meeting. It

was more satisfactory than the first reply, and there were some points

which the Tibetans would now evidently agree to. I proposed, then, that

we should get these points settled first and out of the way, so as to

make a start, and then work on to the more contentious clauses.

I then remarked that I had heard the Dalai Lama had without any doubt

whatever fled the country. The Amban said this was true, and he was

evidently not flying to China, but to the north—possibly to join the

Great Lama at Urga. I said he would hardly be flying to China, for he

would surely have obtained the Amban’s permission to proceed to Peking,

or at least have informed him of his intention. The Amban replied that

he had gone off without any warning, and he had now definitely decided

to denounce him to the Emperor, and would to-day or to-morrow send me a

telegram which he would ask me to have despatched to Peking as quickly

as possible. I said I would do this service for him, and I considered he

was acting with great wisdom in denouncing the Dalai Lama, for it was he

who had brought all this trouble upon his country, and he deserved to

suffer for it. I was not surprised, however, at so young a ruler coming

to grief, for our experience in India was that a young chief, even when

he had only temporal authority in his hands, was very liable to get into

the power of unscrupulous and designing men, and rush off in a

headstrong way on a foolish course. For a young Dalai Lama, who had not

only temporal, but also supreme spiritual power, the tendency to go

wrong must have been almost irresistible.

The Amban said this certainly had been the case with the present Dalai

Lama, who had always been headstrong and obstinate, and had never

followed good advice.

The four hostages which I had demanded, one from the Government and one

from each of the great monasteries, for the good behaviour of the monks

in future arrived on the 24th. They were in abject terror, and evidently

thought they would have their heads cut off before their time was up. On

the same day a proclamation was posted up in Lhasa by the Government,

forbidding the people to interfere with foreigners in any way. This and

the hanging of the monk who had made the murderous assault on the two

British officers had the effect of stopping all other fanatical

assaults, and after the treaty was signed I returned the fine and let

out the hostages, who, much to their surprise, had had a very good time

with us and been treated royally.

There was a considerable pause now in the course of the negotiations,

though Captain O’Connor the whole time was, day by day and all day long,

interviewing innumerable Tibetans of every grade; while Mr. White and I

used to see the Tongsa Penlop and the Nepalese representative, and think

of any means of getting over the difficulty about the indemnity. On

August 28 the Ti Rimpoche, the Yutok Sha-pé, and the Tsarong Sha-pé,

accompanied by the Tongsa Penlop, called upon me. They announced that

they had been deputed by the National Assembly to discuss the settlement

direct with me, as they thought there was delay in dealing through the

Resident. I remarked that I understood they were fairly well agreed to

accede to all our terms except in regard to the indemnity. They said

they had written to the Amban, saying definitely that they would agree

to all the terms except that regarding the payment of an indemnity, and

except in regard to opening further marts in future. They expressed a

wish to make the settlement directly with me, and when we had agreed

upon it, then they would communicate the result to the Resident. I said

that I should be ready to receive them whenever they wished to discuss

matters with me. What I should tell them and what I should tell the

Amban would be exactly the same, but if they liked to hear my views from

me direct I would gladly receive them.

They then again announced that they were ready to agree to all our terms

but one. The indemnity they could not pay. Tibet was a poor country, and

the Tibetans had already suffered heavily during the war; many had been

killed, their houses had been burnt, jongs and monasteries had been

destroyed; and, in addition to all this evil, it was impossible for them

to pay an indemnity as well. The little money they had was spent in

religious services in support of the monasteries, in buying vessels for

the temples and butter to burn before the gods. The peasants had to

supply transport for officials, in addition, and there were no means

whatever for paying the heavy indemnity we were demanding.

I replied that the war in Sikkim had cost us a million sterling, and the

present war would cost another million. After the Sikkim War the

Tibetans had repudiated the treaty which the Resident then made, and we

might very justifiably now ask for an indemnity for the Sikkim War, as

well as for this. We were, however, making no such demand, and we were

only asking from Tibet half the cost of the present war. I knew, of

course, that Tibet had suffered from the present war, but no such

suffering need have occurred if they had negotiated with me at Khamba

Jong in the previous year. And, while they had suffered, we also had not

escaped without trouble. Captain O’Connor had himself been wounded, and

what we looked upon as extremely serious in this matter was that the

representative of the British Government should have been attacked. If

they attacked the Resident here, they knew well how angry the Emperor of

China would be. I quite recognized, however, the difficulty they had in

paying the indemnity in cash within three years. I would, therefore, be

prepared to receive proposals from them as to modifications in the

manner of payment. If, for instance, they thought it impossible to pay

the whole indemnity in three years, and would like the term extended to

five, I would submit such a proposal for the orders of the Viceroy. Or,

again, if they would prefer to pay the indemnity at the rate of a lakh

of rupees a year for a long term of years, I would ask Government if the

difficulty might be met in that way.

They expressed their disappointment at this answer, as they had hoped

that when they had agreed to all our terms except this one I would have

given way on it, and excused them paying the indemnity, and they trusted

I would not send them back to the National Assembly with so

disheartening an answer. In most cases of bargaining, if one party got

half the things he had asked he would be satisfied. I had got all the

points except one, and still was not satisfied. If I could not agree to

that myself, would I not refer it to the Viceroy? If I did this they had

great hopes the Viceroy would excuse them the indemnity.

I replied that a reference to the Viceroy would be of no use, for it

happened that the terms I was now asking were modifications ordered by

the British Government. The Ti Rimpoche said that if the British

Government had been lenient once they might be lenient again, and asked

me to put their petition before them. I replied that the British

Government had considered this matter most carefully before issuing

these demands, so if I now dared to suggest that one of them should not

be carried out I should be immediately dismissed from my post. I was

prepared, as I had said, to submit proposals for alternative methods of

payment of the indemnity, and I would be also prepared to submit

proposals for privileges of concessions in Tibet which might be taken in

lieu of part of the indemnity, but the indemnity, in some manner or

other, would have to be paid.

The Tsarong Sha-pé said we were accustomed to fish in the ocean, and did

not understand that there were not so many fish to be got out of a well

as could be caught from the sea. A field could only yield according to

its size and the amount put into it. A poor peasant got only just enough

from his field to support himself and his family, with a very little

over for religious offerings. It was hard, therefore, that we should

demand so much from Tibet, and the National Assembly would be very much

disheartened at the result of this interview.

I replied that what they had agreed to was what cost them nothing, and

was, indeed, to their advantage. The opening of trade-marts would in

reality prove of much more benefit to them than to us. The only thing

that really cost them anything they were consistently refusing. Even on

that point I was prepared to make it as easy for them in carrying out as

possible, and I could not acknowledge that they had any cause for

complaint.

The Tongsa Penlop then said that he hoped I would take into

consideration the sufferings the Tibetans had already gone through, and,

if I could, lay the matter before the Viceroy. I told the Tongsa Penlop

that I was always glad to hear suggestions from one who had proved

himself so stanch a friend of the British Government, and if he could

think of some way which would save India from being saddled with the

cost of this war, and at the same time not weigh too heavily upon the

Tibetans, he would be doing a service which would be appreciated by both

the Government of India and the Tibetans.

I now came to the conclusion that the Tibetans were trying to make

dissension between the Resident and myself, so I asked the Amban when he

next came to see me to bring the Tibetan Members of Council with him. He

came on the 30th, accompanied by the Acting Regent and three Members of

Council. I told him that we had had some misunderstanding with the

Tibetans as to what precisely they did and did not agree to. They had

informed me on a previous occasion that they had sent him a written

agreement to accept all our terms except that regarding the indemnity. I

proposed, therefore, on this occasion to ascertain from them precisely

what they did agree to point by point. I then addressed the Tibetans in

regard to Clause IX., which was the one I understood they had least

objection to. I explained to them that by it we had not the least desire

to supplant China in the suzerainty of Tibet. The Chinese suzerainty was

fully recognized in the Adhesion Agreement, which it was proposed the

Resident should sign on behalf of the Chinese Government, and China was

not included in the term “foreign Power.” We were not placing a British

Resident here at Lhasa, and we were not asking for any railway or other

concessions. What we asked in this clause was merely what was in

accordance with their traditional policy. Did they agree to the clause?

They replied that they did not want to have anything to do with foreign

Powers. They would, therefore, be able to agree to it.

The clause regarding the razing of fortifications was then discussed,

and they began to raise objections, but I cut them short by observing

that all the fortifications named were in our hands, and would be

destroyed whether they agreed or not. The clause had been drafted by

Government before the fortifications were in our possession. Their

agreement was, therefore, merely a formality. They said that in that

case they would agree.

We then discussed at length the clauses relating to the opening of new

trade-marts. They had an idea we wished them to make a road from Gyantse

to Gartok, and to make big roads by blasting. I assured them that all we

wanted was that the roads from the frontier to Gyantse, and from the

frontier to Gartok, should be kept in repair. We did not expect new

roads to be constructed by them, but existing roads kept suitable for

trade purposes.

The sentence regarding the opening of more trade-marts in future they

very strongly objected to. I pointed out, however, that we were merely

asking them to consider this, and not to decide on it now. I said we

might reasonably have now demanded a mart here, at Lhasa itself, and in

half a dozen other places, and I could not permit them to refuse merely

considering the question of future extension. The Resident added that

their objections were frivolous, and trade-marts were to their

advantage. To the establishment of marts at Gyantse and Gartok they

agreed, and the discussion having now lasted two hours, and I having

told the Amban that we had done about as much as it was possible to do

in one day, he dismissed them.

The next day the Ti Rimpoche, the Tongsa Penlop, and the Nepalese

representative came to see me. The Ti Rimpoche said that there was a

good deal of opposition to the clause regarding opening other

trade-marts in future. The Tibetans did not wish to be bound by anything

in regard to the future. I said it was really the least important

sentence in the whole Convention. It secured nothing definite for us. It

did not say, for instance, that after ten years a third trade-mart

should be opened, but merely that the matter should be considered. Now,

however, that the matter had, in the last official interview with the

Amban, been put forward in official discussion by the Tibetan Council, I

was bound to maintain the sentence. While I did not expect that they

should now _accede_ to the future opening of trade-marts, I could not

accept their _refusal_ to open them. The matter must remain, as stated

in the draft Convention, one for future consideration.

The Ti Rimpoche then again dwelt upon the impossibility of paying what

he considered so heavy an indemnity. He said, laughing, that we must

remember the losses which not only we, but their own troops, had

inflicted on the country. I repeated my old arguments as to the

unfairness of saddling India with the whole cost of a war necessitated

by the folly and stupidity of Tibetans. It was bad enough to impose on

India half the cost, but anything more than that would be a great

injustice. The Ti Rimpoche said that we were putting on the donkey a

greater load than it could possibly carry. I replied that I was not

asking the donkey to carry the whole load in one journey. It could go

backwards and forwards many times, carrying a light load each journey.

The Ti Rimpoche laughed again, and asked what would happen if the donkey

died. I said I should ask the Resident to see that the donkey was

properly treated, so that there should be no fear of its dying. Dropping

metaphor, I told the acting Regent I was really quite prepared to

receive proposals as to easier methods of paying the indemnity. If, for

instance, they could not pay the full amount in three years, I would

receive and consider proposals as to paying in a larger number of years,

or any other reasonable proposal.

The Ti Rimpoche replied that the Tibetans disliked the idea of

prolonging the time during which they would be under obligation to us.

They wanted to settle the business up at once and have done with it. I

asked him if, in that case, he had any other suggestions to make. He

made none, but the Tongsa Penlop suggested to him that the Tibetans

should let us collect the Customs duties at the new trade-marts, and get

the amount of the indemnity from that source. The Ti Rimpoche said that,

while he personally saw the wisdom of agreeing to our terms, he could

not persuade the National Assembly to be reasonable. I said I quite saw

that he was more sensible than the National Assembly, and that he was

doing his best to bring them to reason. When, therefore, I used hard

words and employed threats, he must consider them as directed at the

stupid, obstructive people, and not at himself personally.

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

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TREATY CONCLUDED

We were now at the end of August; my time was very short, and I was in

an awkward predicament. On the 30th I had telegraphed to Government that

the Tibetans, in spite of their protests of poverty, could really pay

the indemnity, but that I thought trade concessions in lieu of a portion

would be preferable. I also asked for liberty to arrange for payment of

the indemnity by instalments of one lakh of rupees (£6,666) a year for a

long term of years, if that arrangement were preferred by the Tibetans,

a proposal which I had also made a month before. On the same day I was

told by General Macdonald that September 15 was the latest date to which

he could remain at Lhasa. The Secretary of State had telegraphed to the

Viceroy[36] that “the date on which the return of the force from Lhasa

is to begin should be fixed by the military authorities in communication

with Younghusband.” In accordance with these instructions, General

Macdonald telegraphed to the Adjutant-General[37] that he had consulted

me with regard to fixing a date for our departure, that I had said I

could not fix any date, but thought the beginning of October the

earliest, and could not guarantee that. The medical authorities

considered September 1 the latest safe date. The officers commanding

units thought the 12th might be risked. General Macdonald himself was

prepared to stay till September 15, and would delay the departure a few

days longer if that would make the difference. There had already been

snow on the hills round Lhasa and Nagartse, there was heavy snow on the

Karo-la and at Ralung, with severe frost on the Karo-la, and the return

march would take nineteen days. General Macdonald concluded that

September 13 was the latest safe date for our stay in Lhasa, and would

be glad of immediate orders, but, in the absence of orders to the

contrary, would fix the 15th for the departure.

From the purely military point of view this was perfectly sound, and

latterly the emphasis had been so much laid upon military considerations

that I had not much hope of this date being altered. It had, indeed, got

into the papers from some military office in Simla, and reached Peking.

I was then in a very critical position. The Treaty was almost within my

grasp, but I might be pulled back by military considerations before I

had time to conclude it.

On the other hand, Mr. White, Captain O’Connor, and I had between us

interviewed at length all the principal men in Lhasa, and if we had not

fully convinced them, we had, at any rate, broken down most of their

opposition. And the Nepalese and Bhutanese, and the Chinese Resident,

too, had worked away to bring about the same result. The consequence was

that about this time I was pretty well convinced that the bulk of them

had at the back of their minds decided to agree to our terms, and put an

end to the business. They all realized that the Dalai Lama, or his

previous advisers, had blundered into a hopeless position, out of which

they had to get as best they might. No one man liked to get up and

propose that they should agree to our terms. But if they were put in a

position when _all_ had to agree, no one would undertake the

responsibility of _objecting_. That was how I gauged the situation.

The time to strike had come. If I had moved earlier, before the Tibetans

had, each of them, had the opportunity of blowing off steam, I should

simply have aroused more armed opposition. If I delayed, I might have to

leave Lhasa through military considerations before I ever got the

chance. I had asserted fifteen months before, in a letter to my father

written when just starting for Tibet, that I would sit tight any length

of time, but when my opportunity came, as come it must, I would strike

in hard and sharp. The psychological moment had exactly arrived, and I

determined to use it. I told the Chinese Resident that I would call on

him on September 1 with the full final draft of the Treaty, and that I

would like the Tibetan Council and the members of the National Assembly

to be present when I met him. In the presence of the Chinese

representative, I meant to inform the whole of the leading men of Lhasa,

monk, lay, and official, that they must sign the Treaty, or take the

consequences of refusal.

On the appointed day, September 1, with my whole staff, all of us in

full-dress uniform, I rode through the city of Lhasa to the Chinese

Residency. Here the Resident received me with his usual courtesy, and

after some general conversation, I intimated to him that I would proceed

to business. He thereupon summoned the Sha-pés, who, after salutations,

took their seats on stools in the centre of the room. Most of the

members of the National Assembly then present in Lhasa also came in, and

were huddled into the corners.

I then rose and presented the Resident with the full final draft of the

Treaty (precisely as I had received it from Government), in English,

Chinese, and Tibetan. The Resident handed the Tibetan copy to the

Sha-pés, and when all were seated again, I asked the Resident’s

permission to address a few words to the Tibetans in regard to the

Treaty. The Resident having assented, I said that as this was the first

opportunity I had had of addressing members of the National Assembly, I

wished to take advantage of it to let them know that if they had

negotiated with me at Khamba Jong, or even at Gyantse when I first

arrived there, the terms would not have been as severe as these we were

now asking. We would merely have arranged trade and boundary questions,

and there would have been no demand for an indemnity. By following the

advice the Resident had given them, they might have been saved all the

trouble in which they found themselves involved. They had chosen to

fight, and had been defeated, and had to pay the consequences. Yet even

now we were not demanding the whole, but only half, the cost of the

military operations. The other half would have to fall upon India. The

sum we were now asking would, if the Treaty were signed the next day, be

75 lakhs of rupees, calculated at the rate of Rs. 50,000 a day from the

date on which I was attacked at Gyantse till one month after the date of

signature of the Treaty. If they signed it on September 3, the amount

would be 75½ lakhs. If on September 4, 76 lakhs, and so on. I was

prepared to explain any point in the final draft which they did not

understand, but I could not further discuss the terms. They had been

especially framed with moderation. They embodied the commands of the

British Government, and would have to be accepted. I would give them

another week within which they might receive explanations and think

matters over. But I could not give them any longer time, for while they

were punishing themselves by adding day by day to the amount of the

indemnity, they were also punishing India, who had to pay the other half

of the cost.

They asked to be allowed to take away the final draft and consider it. I

said that, as long as they did not mind paying Rs. 50,000 a day, they

might consider it, and come to me or my secretary for explanations. They

then made an appeal to the Resident to intercede with me on their

behalf. The Resident merely acknowledged their request, and then, after

asking me if I had anything further to say to them, dismissed them.

When they were gone, I said to the Resident that I was sorry to have to

speak to them as I had done, but my experience had been that soft words

and reasoning had no effect on their obstinate natures. I then said that

the Tibetans were agreeing to all the terms, which did not hurt them in

the least, and were, indeed, advantageous, but were refusing the

indemnity, the only one of the terms which cost them anything. Excluding

foreigners was in accordance with their traditional policy, and was

therefore no sacrifice. As to opening trade-marts, that was to their

advantage. They were born traders and bargainers, as we were finding to

our cost, for they were extorting extravagant prices from us for the

articles they brought for sale to our camp.

The Resident and his staff laughed heartily over this, and said that

trade-marts were of course to their advantage. As to the indemnity, I

said I had had some experience of Native States, and comparing Tibet

with them, I should say Tibet was quite able to pay the amount we were

asking. If, however, the Tibetans could not pay the whole amount within

three years, I was quite prepared, as I had informed them, to receive

proposals for the extension of the period of payment. The Resident

thought this reasonable, but made no further remark.

I then observed that the draft Convention which I had received from

Government was made out between me and the Dalai Lama. Was there any

chance of the Dalai Lama returning in time to conclude the Convention

with me? The Resident said there was not. I thereupon asked with whom,

in that case, I should conclude the Treaty. He said that the Ti Rimpoche

would act as Regent, and would use the seal which the Dalai Lama had

left with him, and this seal would be supported by the seals of the

National Assembly, of the Council, and of the three great monasteries.

My bolt had been shot: what would be the result? This was the thought

which I kept asking myself as I rode back through the streets of Lhasa.

Would the Tibetans fight? Would they brazen it out, and still remain

obstinate? Or would they, perhaps, fly as the Dalai Lama had done? On

the whole, I thought they would take none of these courses, or I would

not have acted as I had done, for all the way through I had tried to

follow the principle of looking before I made a step in advance, so that

when my foot was once down, I could keep it down. It was a dull and

heavy method of procedure, but was the best way, I thought, of

impressing an obstinate people like the Tibetans. I considered, on the

whole, that their resistance to our demands would now collapse, though I

was naturally anxious as to the result.

On the day following, September 2, one of the Councillors and some other

officials visited Captain O’Connor, and went through the draft Treaty

with him word by word. On the same day the Tongsa Penlop suggested, on

his own initiative, to the Tibetans that they should let us collect the

Customs duty at the marts, and get the amount of the indemnity from that

source. I telegraphed to Government that I was making no move in this

matter of adjusting the difficulty about the indemnity till the Tibetans

made definite proposals, but that I thought it would be advantageous to

move, and would like the views of Government.

On September 4 the Ti Rimpoche (the Regent) and a Secretary of Council,

accompanied by the Tongsa Penlop and the Nepalese representative, came

to me and announced that the Tibetan Government were prepared to

conclude the Treaty with me if the term for the payment of the indemnity

would be extended, and the payment made in seventy-five annual

instalments of one lakh of rupees each.

I kept Captain O’Connor talking with them for a few minutes while I

turned the whole question over in my mind once more before I gave a

final decision. One very easy course I might have adopted was to say

that I must refer the matter to Government and await their orders. But

before I could get an answer military considerations might have

predominated, and I might find myself forced to leave Lhasa. As the

Government of India subsequently said, the language of the

communications which they received from the Home Government was such as

to impress on them and me alike that they were strongly averse to any

prolongation of the stay at Lhasa. I had, therefore, no assurance that I

should have time to go on discussing this point with the Tibetans. Then,

again, I thought that in the matter of the indemnity a certain amount of

latitude had been left me. The Secretary of State’s instructions on this

point were: “In regard to the question of an indemnity, the sum to be

demanded should not exceed an amount which, it is believed, will be

within the power of the Tibetans to pay, by instalments, if necessary,

spread over three years. Colonel Younghusband will be guided by

circumstances in this matter.” The full despatch was more definite than

this telegram. But the despatch had not yet arrived. Some degree of

discretion was left me. Was I justified by the very difficult

circumstances in which I found myself in stretching it to seventy-five

years? This was the question I had to settle in my mind while the Regent

was waiting for my reply.

But this question of the indemnity did not stand alone. It had to be

taken in connection with another clause which would give us the right to

occupy the Chumbi Valley until the indemnity was paid. I had, then, to

ask myself further: Would an occupation of the Chumbi Valley for

seventy-five years as a guarantee for the payment of an indemnity run

counter to any pledge we had given to Russia? Now, Lord Lansdowne, when

he gave his pledge, distinctly said that the action of Government must

to some extent depend upon the conduct of the Tibetans themselves, and

that His Majesty’s Government could not undertake that they would not

depart in any eventuality from the policy which then commended itself to

them.

This was said to the Russian Ambassador on June 2, before Government had

heard the result of our announcement to the Tibetans that we would be

prepared to negotiate at Gyantse up to June 25. Since Lord Lansdowne had

spoken to the Russian Ambassador, the Tibetans had continued fighting,

had attacked me at Kangma, and by June 25 had sent no negotiators. The

conduct of the Tibetans had, therefore, been such as might very well

cause Government to alter their action.

Further, the Tibetans, during our advance to Lhasa, had opposed us at

the Karo-la, and fired on us from Nagartse Jong. This opposition was

indeed slight, because we had been obliged, after June 25, to break down

at Gyantse the Tibetan forces which intervened between us and our

advance to Lhasa. Had General Macdonald not captured the jong and

dispersed the Tibetan forces round Gyantse, the opposition to our

advance to Lhasa would have been very much greater than it was.

Since Lord Lansdowne had given his pledge to the Russian Ambassador,

events had occurred—the failure to send accredited negotiators before

June 25 and the continued opposition of the Tibetans—which might, I

thought, be considered by His Majesty’s Government sufficient

justification for departing in some slight degree from the policy which

on June 2, before they were completely aware of the nature of the

Tibetan position, commended itself to them. Lord Lansdowne had said in

April in the House of Lords, referring then to the policy laid down in

the telegram of November 6, 1903, that he did not mean to say that,

“whatever happened, we were never to move an inch beyond the limits

therein laid down.” And I thought that the policy settled in London,

before Government were aware of the conditions I should find at Lhasa,

would admit of some little elasticity.

Then, as regards the nature of the pledges themselves. The pledges given

were that, “so long as no other Power endeavours to intervene in the

affairs of Tibet, they [His Majesty’s Government] will not attempt

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

to control its internal administration.”

[Illustration: THE CHUMBI VALLEY]

The question was, “Did the right to occupy the Chumbi Valley for

seventy-five years, as security for the payment of an indemnity, involve

a breach of this pledge?” Burma, in somewhat similar circumstances, we

had annexed, but that meant turning out the native rulers, constituting

a Government of our own, and stationing garrisons at the capital and

throughout the country. Over Native States in India we established

protectorates, but that necessarily involved subordinating their foreign

relations to our own. In many of them we controlled the internal

administration, but only by agents of Government being deputed

especially for that purpose. Would the occupation of Chumbi, a valley

lying altogether outside Tibet proper, on the Indian and not on the

Tibetan side of the watershed, a valley which had not always belonged to

Tibet, mean annexing Tibet, establishing a protectorate over it, or

controlling its internal administration? This was the question I asked

myself, and I answered it in the negative. I said to myself it involved

none of the three, and could not, therefore, be taken as breaking our

pledges to Russia.

Others might not think likewise. But even if they did not, I could not

see that if I agreed to the Tibetan proposals, including, as they would,

the right for us to occupy the Chumbi Valley for seventy-five years, I

was thereby involving Government in any fresh responsibility. I should

not, for instance, be giving to the inhabitants a promise of our

protection which it would be impossible for Government to repudiate. I

should be simply acquiring for Government the right to occupy the Chumbi

Valley for seventy-five years if they wanted to, and if they did not

want to, they could go out whenever they liked. I was not “_compelling_

the Government to occupy the Chumbi” Valley; I was simply acquiring the

right, which they could abrogate if they did not want it.

Arguing thus with myself, I decided finally to seize the golden

opportunity. If I let it go I knew not what might happen. The Regent

might flee. The National Assembly might sulk. The Chinese might wake up

and put in some obstruction. By agreeing I should be doing nothing

counter to the wishes of the Government of India, for the amount of the

indemnity was what they had themselves suggested, and they had on June

30,[38] after the pledges to Russia were given, spoken of retaining the

Chumbi Valley, the occupation of which had been urged by the Bengal

Government as far back as 1888. By agreeing I should also be effecting

what my own experience showed me would be by far the most satisfactory

permanent solution of the whole question. Chumbi is the key to Tibet. It

is also the most difficult part of the road to Lhasa. Situated in the

Chumbi Valley, we should have a clear run into Tibet, for the Tang-la

(pass) across the watershed is an open plain several miles wide. The

Chumbi Valley is the only strategical point of value in the whole

north-eastern frontier from Kashmir to Burma. It was the surest

guarantee for the fulfilment of the new Treaty which we could possibly

get, except the establishment of an agent at Lhasa, and the obtaining of

a guarantee had from the first been placed as one of the chief objects

of my Mission.

Our main object was to put our relations with the Tibetans on a

permanently satisfactory basis. By saying “yes” to the Regent’s proposal

I should be concluding a settlement which would admirably meet all our

local requirements; which would, as they themselves had made it, best

suit the Tibetans; which would not, as far as I could judge, run counter

to any international obligations; and which would involve Government in

no further responsibility.

I therefore turned to the Tibetans and said that, in view of the

representations which had been made to me as to the difficulty of

raising the money in cash, I would agree to the payment being

distributed over seventy-five years. They must, however, clearly

understand that under the terms of the Treaty we should retain the right

to continue to occupy the Chumbi Valley till the full amount of the

indemnity was paid. They said that they understood this.

I then remarked that the amount due to us was, to-day, 76 lakhs, not 75

lakhs, as two more days had elapsed since I gave them the ultimatum, and

for each of those days Rs. 50,000 was chargeable. The Tongsa Penlop,

however, asked that this extra lakh might be remitted, and to this I

assented. The Tibetans then asked that the amount might be paid in

kind—in ponies, for instance. I replied that as the amount was so small

it would be better to pay it in cash, for if it were paid in ponies or

other articles there would be constant disputes between us as to the

value of the articles proffered, and our good relations might be

jeopardized. Finally they asked that it might be paid in tangas, the

local Tibetan coin. I replied that I had entered rupees in the draft

Treaty, and with that they must be content.

The Ti Rimpoche then affixed his private seal to the draft Treaty.

The thing was done, but what I did in saying those half a dozen words

agreeing to the Tibetan proposals was considered afterwards to be a

grave error of judgment, and was to bring upon me the censure of

Government, That, of course, is what I had to risk. I knew that I was

not acting within my instructions. I was using my discretion in very

difficult circumstances with what the Government of India afterwards

described[39] to the Secretary of State as “a fearlessness of

responsibility which it would be a grave mistake to discourage in any of

their agents.” And if I really was in error, I think that those who tied

their agent down for time and bound him within such narrow lines before

they were aware in what conditions he would find himself at Lhasa,

cannot themselves be considered as altogether faultless.

In another matter also I at this time acted on my own responsibility. In

the original proposals of the Government of India regarding the terms

about which I was, without committing Government, to ascertain how the

Tibetan Government would be likely to regard them,[40] was one by which

the agent at Gyantse was to have the right of proceeding to Lhasa to

discuss matters with the Tibetan officials or the Resident. This reached

me before I left Gyantse, and when the Tongsa Penlop asked me for our

terms to let the Dalai Lama know what we wanted, I gave him this among

all the rest. Subsequently, I received instructions not to ask for

permission for the Gyantse agent to proceed to Lhasa. I did not,

however, at once withdraw the clause from the list of terms, because in

the course of negotiations it might prove useful as a point on which I

could, if necessary, make concessions to the Tibetans. But when I found

the Tibetans raised no special objections to the clause, provided the

trade agent went to Lhasa only on commercial, and not political,

business, and only after he had found it impossible to get this

commercial business disposed of by correspondence or by personal

conference with the Tibetan agent at Gyantse, I thought there would be

no objection to taking an agreement from the Tibetans to that effect;

for, under such limitations and provisions, there could be no grounds

for assuming that in going there the trade agent at Gyantse would be

taking upon himself any political functions, or adopting the character

of a Political Resident.

As this agreement was of a less formal character than the rest of the

Convention, I had it drawn up separately. It ran as follows:

“The Government of Tibet agrees to permit the British agent, who will

reside at Gyantse, to watch the conditions of the British trade, to

visit Lhasa, when it is necessary, to consult with high Chinese and

Tibetan officials on such commercial matters of importance as he has

found impossible to settle at Gyantse by correspondence or by personal

conference with the Tibetan agent.”

To this also the Regent gave his consent.

On September 5 the Resident and the principal Tibetan authorities came

to arrange final details and formalities regarding the signing of the

Treaty. The first point to decide was who should sign it. I asked the

Resident whose name should be entered in the place of the Dalai Lama’s.

He said I might enter the name of the Ti Rimpoche, and he added that

representatives of the Council, of the three great monasteries, and of

the National Assembly would also affix their seals. To this the Tibetans

assented. I then said the next point was to settle the time and place

for signature. There could be only one place—namely, the Potala

Palace—in which I would sign it, and I was ready to sign as soon as the

final copies of the Treaty had been prepared. The Resident said that he

had no objection to the Treaty being signed in the Potala. He then

informed the Tibetans of our decision. The Tibetans objected strongly,

but without advancing any reasons except that they did not wish it. I

informed them that they had at Khamba Jong and Gyantse grossly insulted

the British representative, and I now insisted that I should be shown

the fullest respect. I had been prepared to show, and had shown, the

utmost consideration for their religion and sacred buildings, but I

expected that they on their part should show the fullest respect to the

King-Emperor’s representative. They suggested that the Treaty should be

signed in the Resident’s Yamen, but I said I would be content with no

other place than that in which the Dalai Lama would have received me if

he had himself been here to sign the Treaty. The utmost respect it was

within their capacity to show I expected should on this occasion be

accorded. They began murmuring other objections, but the Resident told

them the matter was settled, and did not admit of further discussion.

The question of the exact room in the Palace was then discussed, and a

certain room was suggested. I told the Resident that I would send

officers that afternoon to inspect the Palace, and satisfy themselves

that the room suggested was the most appropriate one, and I asked him to

have Chinese and Tibetan officials deputed to accompany my officers. To

this he agreed. The date for the ceremony of signing was then fixed for

the next day. The Resident said he would himself be present, though he

would be unable to agree to the Convention till he had heard from

Peking.

Messrs. White and Wilton, and Captain O’Connor, with Majors Iggulden and

Beynon from General Macdonald’s staff, went over the Potala in the

afternoon, and reported that the hall suggested by the Tibetans was the

most suitable one in the Palace. That, therefore, was the one we fixed

on for the ceremony on the following day.

Though it was easy enough to speak decisively like this about signing

the Treaty in the Potala, I had many qualms that night as to whether I

had not perhaps at the last moment made one false step. Since the days

of the eccentric Manning—whose name should never be forgotten when Lhasa

is mentioned—no European had been inside this Palace, and these 20,000

turbulent monks in and around Lhasa might flare up at the last moment,

or else commit some atrocity when we were once and completely in their

power inside the buildings. Such things have happened before now to

Political Agents in India. On the other hand, the hall we were to go to

was not a temple, and the Dalai Lama himself, though considered a sacred

being, was also a political personage. It was not in the temple of a god

that I insisted upon signing the Treaty; it was in the audience-chamber

of a political chief.