And for the effect upon the Tibetans and_India and Tibet A history of the relations which have subsisted between the two countries from the time of Warren Hastings to 1910; with a particular account of the mission to Lhasa of 1904

own soldiers, British and Indian, and upon the Nepalese, Bhutanese, and

Sikkimese, and far away up into Kashmir and Turkestan, it was necessary

to do something to strike their imagination, and to give some

unmistakable sign that the Tibetans had not been able through all these

years to flout us without suffering the penalty.

Here again to the common-sense man it would have seemed ridiculous and

foolish to run more additional risk when the Treaty could have been

signed comfortably and without any fuss in either my room or the

Resident’s. But those who have lived among Asiatics know that the fact

of signing the Treaty in the Potala was of as much value as the Treaty

itself. Few would know what was in the Treaty, but the fact that the

British had concluded a Treaty in the Potala would be an unmistakable

sign that the Tibetans had been compelled to come to terms. At the

commencement of the Mission our prestige all along our frontier with

Tibet had been at zero-point. Everywhere it was thought that the

Tibetans could defy us with impunity. Our prestige had no value, and

prestige in Asiatic countries is a high practical asset. Through

prestige a few Englishmen, without a single British soldier, are able to

control a district or State in India containing as many inhabitants as

Tibet. Because they had allowed their prestige to wane, the Chinese,

even with soldiers, were unable to control Tibet. It was to give an

unmistakable sign, which all other countries could understand, that our

prestige was re-established in Tibet that I insisted on having the

Treaty signed in the Potala itself.

To the troops the news that the Treaty was concluded was a completely

unexpected announcement. For weeks past they had heard of nothing but

Tibetan obstruction. They knew that we should soon be leaving Lhasa, and

they had made up their minds that we should have to leave without a

Treaty. They were overjoyed, then, when they heard that the Treaty had

been concluded and was to be signed next day. On most of the frontier

expeditions upon which they had been engaged there was little to show in

return for all they went though. Now they had been led to a remote

sacred city, and had not only reached their goal, but were also to bring

back something with them as the tangible result of their labours. Their

satisfaction was therefore great.

All the military arrangements for the ceremonial were in General

Macdonald’s hands, and no one could have arranged them with greater care

and precaution. Every detail both for effect and for defence was

regarded. The route to the Palace was lined with troops, equally for

show and for use in case of emergency, and a battery to fire a salute or

to bombard the Palace, as occasion might require, was stationed in a

suitable position.

On the political side we had to arrange the ceremonial in detail, so

that there might be no inconvenient hitch at the last moment. The copy

of the Treaty which the Tibetans were to keep was written on an

immensely long and broad stretch of paper, so that the whole Treaty in

all three languages—English, Tibetan, and Chinese—might be on one piece

of paper. Four other copies had to be made: one for Calcutta, one for

London, one for the Chinese Government, and one for our Minister in

Peking. All these were carried on a large silver tray by my Bengali head

clerk, Mr. Mitter, who had accompanied me from the Indore Residency

Office, and undergone all the hardships and dangers with unfailing

cheerfulness. My camp-table was taken in to sign the Treaty on, and on

it was laid the flag which had flown over the Mission headquarters

throughout.

Half an hour before the time fixed for the ceremony the whole of the

route leading up to the Potala, and the inside passages as well, were

lined with troops. Soon after 3 p.m. General Macdonald and I,

accompanied by the members of the Mission and the military staff,

reached the Potala. We were received in the Durbar Hall by the Chinese

Resident. The chamber was one in which the Dalai Lama holds Durbars, and

was large enough to hold about 200 of our troops (some of whom were

formed up as an escort, while others had been allowed to attend as

spectators), and also about 100 Chinese, and over 100 Tibetans. The

scene as we entered was unique in interest. On the left were all the

British and Indian officers and men in their sombre fighting dress. On

the right were the mass of Tibetans, the Councillors in yellow silk

robes, and many others in brilliant clothing, together with the

Bhutanese in bright dresses and quaint headgear. And in front the

Resident and all his staff, in their full official dress, advanced to

meet me, with the Regent by him, in the severely simple garb of a Lama.

The pillars and cross-beams of the roof of the hall were richly painted.

An immense silk curtain, gorgeously embroidered, was hung immediately

behind the chairs to be occupied by the Resident and myself. And the

whole scene was rendered curiously soft and hazy from the light

entering, not by windows at the sides, but through the coloured canvas

of an immense skylight in the centre.

[Illustration: SIGNING THE TREATY.]

The Ti Rimpoche (the Regent) sat next to the Resident on his left. I was

on his right. As soon as we were seated, Tibetan servants brought in

tea, and handed cups to all the British and Chinese officials. Low

tables of dried fruits were then set before the two rows of officials.

When these were all cleared away, I said to the Resident that, with his

permission, I would proceed to business.

I first had the Treaty read in Tibetan, and then asked the Tibetan

officials if they were prepared to sign it. They answered in the

affirmative, and the immense roll of paper was produced, on which the

Treaty was written in three parallel columns in English, Chinese, and

Tibetan, according to their custom of having treaties in different

languages inscribed on the same sheet of paper. I asked the Tibetans to

affix their seals first, and the long process began. When the seals of

the Council, the monasteries, and the National Assembly had been affixed

I rose, and, with the Ti Rimpoche, advanced to the table, the Resident

and the whole Durbar rising at the same time. The Ti Rimpoche then

affixed the Dalai Lama’s seal, and finally I sealed and signed the

Treaty. Having done this, I handed the document to the Ti Rimpoche, and

said a peace had now been made which I hoped would never again be

broken.

The same ceremonial was followed in the case of the copies in the three

languages for the Resident, which, having been signed and sealed, I

handed to him. The three copies, each in three languages, for the

British Government, were then signed and sealed, the whole operation

lasting nearly an hour and a half.

When the ceremony was concluded I addressed the Tibetans, saying that

the misunderstandings of the past were now over, and a basis had been

laid for mutual good relations in future. We were not interfering in the

smallest degree with their religion, we were annexing no part of their

country, we were not interfering in their internal affairs, and we were

fully recognizing the continued suzerainty of the Chinese Government. We

merely sought to insure that they should abide by the Treaty made on

their behalf by the Amban in 1890; that trade relations, which were no

less advantageous to them than to us, should be established with them as

they had been with every other country in the world, except Tibet; and

that they should not depart from their traditional policy in regard to

relations with other countries. They had found us bad enemies when they

had not observed Treaty obligations, and shown disrespect to the British

representative. They would find us equally good friends if they kept the

present Treaty and showed civility. As a first token of peace I would

ask General Macdonald to release all prisoners of war, and I should

expect that they would set at liberty all those imprisoned on account of

dealings with us.

This speech was translated sentence by sentence by Captain O’Connor, and

the Resident’s interpreter translated it sentence by sentence to the

Resident. At its conclusion the members of Council said that the Treaty

had been made by the whole people, and would never be broken. We should

see in future that they really intended to observe it. I then turned to

the Resident and thanked him for the help he had given me in making the

Treaty. He said he was glad he and I had been able to work together, and

he hoped and thought the Tibetans would keep the Treaty. A copy of the

Treaty, as signed, is placed in the Appendix. The three original copies

I brought back to India with me.

The Tibetans throughout showed perfect good temper and the fullest

respect. They often laughed over the operations of sealing, and when we

left they all came crowding up to shake hands with every British officer

they could make their way to. The Resident was very courteous, and

showed special pleasure when my words regarding the continued suzerainty

of China being recognized were translated to him. Altogether the

ceremonial very deeply impressed the Tibetans, who, without being

humiliated in a way which could cause resentment, had now learnt to

accord us the respect which was our due. At the conclusion of the Durbar

I had the Lamas of the Potala presented with Rs. 1,000. It was the first

present, except to the poor, which I had given since my arrival in

Lhasa. My motto had been: The “mailed fist” first and the sugar-plums

afterwards. The contrary procedure so often leads to trouble.

[Illustration: SEALS AFFIXED TO TREATY.]

-----

Footnote 36:

Blue-book, III., p. 51.

Footnote 37:

_Ibid._, p. 242.

Footnote 38:

Blue-book, III., p. 36.

Footnote 39:

Blue-book, III., p. 75.

Footnote 40:

_Ibid._, p. 22.

-----

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

CHAPTER XIX

IMPRESSIONS AT LHASA

With the signature of the Treaty a tense strain was released, and as I

rode down from the Potala I felt at last at ease. That evening General

Macdonald, Major Iggulden, his chief staff officer, and the rest of the

military staff entertained the Mission at dinner, and among the memories

of that eventful day will always be included the recollection of the

warmly appreciative speech which General Macdonald made on that

occasion.

On the day following two Councillors visited me, and I informed them

that General Macdonald had agreed to my request to release all prisoners

of war. These were paraded in front of the house, and General Macdonald

sent a staff officer to order their release and to give each man Rs. 5

for work he had done.

The Sha-pés then produced two men who had been imprisoned owing to

assistance they had given to Sarat Chandra Das, the Bengali traveller,

and two men who had been imprisoned for helping the Japanese traveller,

Kawaguchi. The two first men had been in chains for nineteen years, and

showed signs of terrible suffering. All were in abject fear of the

Tibetans, bowing double before them. Their cheeks were sunken, their

eyes glazed and staring, their expression unchangeably fixed in horror,

and their skin as white and dry as paper. Their release was entirely due

to the exertions of Captain O’Connor. I thanked the Sha-pés for their

action, which I looked upon as a sign that they really wished to live on

friendly terms with us. I trusted that they would never again imprison

men whose only offence was friendliness to British subjects.

I returned to the Sha-pés the sum of Rs. 5,000, which I had exacted from

them, and released the hostages I had demanded on the occasion of the

attack by a fanatical Lama on two British officers. But I demanded back

the sum of Rs. 1,000 on account of the murder of one and the brutal

torture of another servant of the Mission caught in the town of Gyantse

on the night of the attack on the Mission. I said we did not mind fair

and square fighting between men whose business it was to fight, but the

murder and torture of harmless and defenceless servants was pure

barbarity. The Sha-pés acknowledged that what I said was just, but said

they were not present, and knew nothing of it. Rs. 1,000 were,

therefore, retained to be paid in compensation to the servants’

families.

I then remarked that we had now had a general settling up of all

accounts between us, and could start fair. The Sha-pés said they hoped

now we should always be on friendly terms, and they certainly meant to

observe the Treaty.

The Tongsa Penlop paid me a formal visit on the 10th to congratulate me

on the successful issue of the negotiations. He said that there was no

resentment at the settlement or at the manner in which it had been made,

and the Nepalese representative was of the same opinion. The Tibetans

were well satisfied with the issue of the negotiations. And I dare say

in their heart of hearts, and despite all their protests, they had fully

expected us to annex the whole country, as we had annexed Burma, or at

any rate to annex up to Gyantse, and were probably quite surprised to

have got off so lightly.

Congratulations from India and England soon came pouring in. Only six

days after the Treaty was signed came a telegram from the Viceroy

conveying the congratulations of the King himself. His Majesty, though

away at Marienbad, had immediately telegraphed his congratulations, a

particular compliment which is rarely given for work in India. To the

troops this was especially gratifying. The telegram was read out to them

on a full parade, which General Macdonald ordered for the purpose. The

Secretary of State, the acting Viceroy, Lord Ampthill, Lord Curzon, from

England, Lord Kitchener, and very many others, also sent their

congratulations; and now, while the Chinese Government were making up

their minds whether they would allow the Resident to sign his adhesion

to the Treaty, I had leisure and inclination to go about Lhasa and see

something of the monasteries and temples, and talk with the people in a

less forced and formal manner than I had to while the strain of the

negotiations was on us.

We had so far seen the Tibetans only on the contentious side. Now that

the stress was over I wished to see them as they really were. What

especially I wished to see was their monastic life. The priesthood ruled

Tibet. Religion was the chief characteristic of the people. Their

religion and the character of the Lamas, who both led the religious life

of the people and guided their political destinies, were, therefore, the

special objects of my interest.

From the first I had insisted that we should not be denied access to the

monasteries, for to get rid of misunderstandings it was essential that

we should close up with the Lamas and come directly into contact with

them. But I had been careful to let only those officers enter the

monasteries who could be trusted to comport themselves with propriety,

and have all reasonable regard for the feelings and prejudices of the

monks.

For this purpose Mr. White, Mr. Walsh, Captain O’Connor, and Colonel

Waddell, the well-known writer on Lamaism, who was appointed Chief

Medical Officer and Archæologist to the Mission’s escort, were

invaluable. Each had his special qualification for the work, and each

made use of it by “peaceful penetration” to break through the last

barrier which separated us from the Tibetans. Mr. White was known in

person or by reputation as none of the rest of us were, and had many

friends who were also friends of these Lamas. Through them he obtained

an invitation to the De-pun Monastery, and from this start made rapid

progress. Mr. Walsh, as Deputy Commissioner of Darjiling, and through

his long acquaintance with this frontier and intimate knowledge of the

language and history of the country, was also able to exert a most

useful influence after his arrival from Chumbi, while Colonel Waddell

interested himself in the libraries and in historical research. As a

consequence, when I visited these monasteries, after the signature of

the Treaty, I was received as if the visit from a British official was

the same ordinary occurrence as it is in India.

Each monastery is a little town in itself, a compact block of

solidly-built masonry—houses, halls, and temples. The streets are narrow

and not over-clean, but the halls and temples are spacious. They are

mostly of much the same type, with pagoda-shaped roofs, painted wooden

pillars, and grotesque demonesque-like figures. In the De-pun Monastery

there were from 8,000 to 10,000 monks, divided into, I think, four

sections, each with its Abbot and its separate temple hall and

institutions.

In outward appearance the monks of some of these Lhasa monasteries are

not prepossessing. They look coarse and besotted. Some are bright and

cordial, but hardly any look really intellectual or spiritual, and the

general impression I took away was one of dirt and degradation. Of the

higher Lamas, also, my impression was not favourable as regards their

intellectual capacity or spiritual attainments. The Regent (Ti

Rimpoche), with whom I carried on the negotiations, had great charm. He

was a benevolent, kindly old gentleman, who would not have hurt a fly if

he could have avoided it. No one could help liking him, but no one could

say that he had the intellectual capacity we would meet with in Brahmins

in India, or the character and bearing one would expect in the leading

man of a country. And his spiritual attainments, I gathered from a long

conversation I had with him after the Treaty was signed, consisted

mainly of a knowledge by rote of vast quantities of his holy books. The

capacity of these Tibetan monks for learning their sacred books by rote

is, indeed, something prodigious; though about the actual meaning they

trouble themselves but little.

[Illustration: THE SERA MONASTERY.]

Some of the Abbots we met were cheery, genial souls, much as we picture

to ourselves the jolly friars of olden days in England; but as spiritual

leaders of a religious people, I did not find the higher Lamas impressed

me any more favourably than the ordinary monks.

These impressions, which in themselves would not have much value, as my

period for observation was so very limited, are borne out by the

courageous Japanese traveller Kawaguchi, himself a Buddhist, and once

Rector of a monastery in Japan, who lived in the Sera Monastery, and in

his most valuable work, “Three Years in Tibet,” written since we were in

Tibet, has given to the English public the results of his study.

For a few Lamas he had a sincere attachment. Like myself, he greatly

revered the old Ti Rimpoche, who taught him Buddhism in its correct

form, and “truly impressed him as a living Buddha.” He struck Kawaguchi

as not only having a juster ideal of the real spirit of Buddhism than

the other Lamas, but as also having greater ability, which may have been

due to what I had not myself known—his father being a Chinaman. For an

ex-Minister of Finance, a Lama, Kawaguchi also had great admiration, and

certainly from him received unstinted kindness, even when he risked his

life in showing Kawaguchi attention. The Head-Priest of Wartang he also

thought very clever, and from him he received valuable information on

Buddhism.

These, however, were exceptional men, and most of the Lamas were very

disappointing to the Japanese. Even the good ex-Financial Minister had

the defect of living with a nun. A Lama travelling companion was a

“pedantic scholar” who knew nothing of the essential principles of

Buddhism, and had only a vague notion of the doctrines. The Abbot of

Sakya had a son, though Lamas are not allowed to marry, and Kawaguchi

was “loth to remain with so dissipated a priest.” The tutor of the Tashi

Lama was disappointing in his answers about “grammar.”

The doctors of the highest degrees, he said, were unquestionably

theologians of great erudition, and at home in the complete cycle of

Buddhist works. They had, indeed, he considered, a better knowledge of

Buddhist theology than the Japanese divines. But such were few and far

between, and he seems to have agreed with the observation of the Ti

Rimpoche that it would “be better to have even two or three precious

diamonds than a heap of stones.” The Tibetan priesthood, he thought,

contained plenty of rubbish, with very few diamonds.

To account for this, he says that the main purpose of Tibetans in

entering the priesthood is “only to procure the largest amount of

fortune, as well as the highest possible fame.” To seek religious truth

and to work for the deliverance of men was not at all what, according to

this Japanese, they wished to do. They simply desired, he says, to

escape from the painful struggle of life, and “enjoy lazy and

comfortable days on earth as well as in heaven.” There is nothing deep

that he could see in their religious life and study; service went in

their eyes for nothing.

Medicine, logic, engineering, and religious philosophy were introduced

into Tibet centuries ago from India; but nowadays, says Kawaguchi, there

are almost no Tibetans who are proficient in even one of these subjects.

Of the morality of the Lamas Kawaguchi gives no very pleasant account.

Most of these celibate priest-nobles kept women somewhere, and the lower

warrior-priests really seem, he says, to be the descendants of Sodom and

Gomorrah. Some of the festivals were simply bestial orgies.

These “warrior-priests” of the Sera Monastery, which is one of those I

visited, are a peculiar institution. Their daily task is varied. It is

to play flutes, lyres, harps, flageolets, and to beat drums; to prepare

offerings for the deities; to carry yak-dung for fuel; to practise

throwing stones at a target; and to act as a bodyguard. Kawaguchi made

friends with them by doctoring, and found them very true to their

duties, and though they might look very rough, they were more truthful

than the noble and other priests, who, though trustworthy at first

sight, were in reality deceitful in seeking their own benefit and

happiness, and under their warm woollen garments hid a mean and crafty

behaviour.

The ordinary student in these monasteries had certainly to work hard.

Kawaguchi worked till he got "a swelling on his shoulder"; and, to get a

degree, some work for twenty years, with examinations every year.

Besides Tibetans, there were numbers of Mongols, and also some 200

Buriats from Siberia. The Mongols were hard-working and progressive, but

“very quick-tempered, proud, and uppish,” and every Mongol had it in him

to be a great leader, like Jenghiz Khan, whose career was, however,

according to Kawaguchi, but a meteoric burst. Compared with these the

Tibetan students, though, generally speaking, very quiet, courteous, and

intelligent, were lazy and sluggish “beyond the powers of Westerners to

imagine,” and on account of their laziness very dirty.

Catechism seems to have been their chief study. “The object of the

questions and answers is to free the mind from all worldliness, and to

get into the very bottom of truth, giving no powers to the devils of

hell in the mind.” It is by this means, continues Kawaguchi, that the

naturally dull and lazy Tibetans are guided to understand Buddhism, and

through it they are, for a half-civilized nation, very rich in logical

ideas. The catechisms, which I should judge were really more in the

nature of philosophical debates which all Orientals love, were carried

on in a most excited manner. Many texts and reference books had to be

read before anyone could take part in them, and the catechists were

always taught that “the foot must come down so strongly that the door of

hell may be broken open; and that the hands must make so great a noise

that the voice of knowledge may frighten the devils all the world over.”

Besides studying and being engaged in ceremonial observances, the monks,

however, also carry on business. Most of them are engaged in trade; many

are employed in agriculture, others in cattle-breeding, and

sheep-rearing; and others, again, in the manufacture of Buddhist

articles, the painting of Buddhist pictures; while tailors, carpenters,

masons, and shoemakers are also found among the priests. Those of the

higher class live very comfortably, building their own villas and

temples. Some employ as many as 70 or 80 servants.

The lower-class priests, on the other hand, live in a pitiful way. No

words, says Kawaguchi, can describe their poor condition. The

scholar-priests have to earn their living as well as their expenses as

students. Yet they are too busy to go out and make money, and what they

receive as offerings from believers and as salaries from temples does

not amount to enough to support them. They get a drink of tea gratis,

but no flour; and such is their pitiable condition that they will often

pass a couple of days without eating.

A noteworthy fact is, that though by their religion the Lamas are not

supposed to take life, yet they are said not to be able to pass a day

without eating meat, and more than 50,000 sheep, goats, and yaks are

killed at Lhasa during the last three months of each year. Their

punishments, too, are so cruel—gouging out eyes, cutting off hands,

beating, etc.—as to excite the Japanese just as much as ourselves.

It is altogether a sorry picture which Kawaguchi draws, but it precisely

bears out the casual impressions we got during our limited stay in

Lhasa, and from what intercourse we had with the Lamas. Whether Lamaism

has on the whole been a success I doubt. It has had a pacifying effect,

it is true. If the Tibetans had been Mohammedans, we should not have

reached Lhasa as easily as we did. And the Mongols also have lost their

old warlike tendencies. The numerous figures of the placid Buddha

sitting in calm repose have had their influence. Cut in rocks, erected

in imposing statues, or modelled in bronze and brass, and set up in

their temples and household altars, they have hypnotized the people to a

sense of peace and rest. The Tibetans, who once carried their arms to

Peking itself, are now one of the most peaceful of people. And the

Mongols, who had set up a dynasty in China, conquered all Central Asia,

and laid waste Western Europe, are now an almost negligible quantity in

war.

Lamaism has certainly, then, nourished peace in Tibet and Mongolia. But

the peace that has been nurtured has been the quiescence of sloth and

decadence. The Buddhist idea of repose and kindness all can appreciate.

There are few men who have no kindly feelings, and would not wish, if

they could, to be at peace with all the world. Yet the idea may have its

danger and be as likely to lead downward as upward. It may lull to rest

and render useless passions and energies which ought to be given play

to. And the evil of Lamaism is that it has fostered lazy repose and

self-suppression at the expense of useful activity and self-realization.

The Mongols in their deserts, the Tibetans in their mountains, have had

the amplest opportunity for carrying into effect the Buddhist idea. I

have seen the one in the deepest depths of their deserts, and the other

in the innermost sanctuary of their mountains, and to me it seems that

they have both been pursuing a false ideal. They have sought by

withdrawing from the world into the desert and into the mountain to

secure present peace for the individual, instead of, by manfully taking

their part in the work of the world, aiming at the eventual unison of

the whole. Peace, instead of harmony, has been their ideal—peace for the

emasculated individual instead of harmony for the united and

full-blooded whole.

The Tibetan’s main idea, in fact, has been to save his own soul. He does

not trouble about others so long as he can save himself. Indeed, he

thinks it will require all his energies to do even that much, for at

heart he is still full of his original religion of demonology. He looks

upon the spiritual world as filled with demons, ready to prey upon him

if he makes the slightest slip. Every temple, almost every house, is

full of fantastic pictures of the most terrible and blood-curdling

devils, with glaring eyes, open fang-studded mouth, extended neck and

outstretched arm, ready to pounce upon some miserable victim. The belief

in heaven is vague. The belief in hell is the one great fact in their

lives, and how real it is may be imagined when we hear of these poor

wretches, who, in order to escape its terrors, voluntarily allow

themselves to be walled into solitary cells, from which for years they

never emerge, but take in their food once a day through a narrow

opening. Thus only do those poor deluded creatures think they can escape

from demons in the world to come. But that they most sincerely believe

in a life hereafter no more positive evidence could be afforded. An

interesting detail is that their hell is not hot, but cold. If it were

hot, the inhabitants of frozen Tibet would all flock there.

As might be naturally expected, such a people are ready believers in the

supposed supernatural powers of certain men. We could hear nothing of

the wonderful Mahatmas, and the Ti Rimpoche told Colonel Waddell he was

entirely ignorant of their existence. But, according to Kawaguchi,

oracles are held in high esteem. The Ngpak-pas, or miracle-workers, the

descendants of Lamas who worked miracles, are supposed to possess

hereditary secrets, and are held in great awe as being magicians of

power. The people showed such practical faith in the efficacy of the

charms which the Lamas gave that they rushed right up to our rifles,

believing that our bullets could not hit them.

Practically, then, the religion of the Tibetans is but of a degraded

form. Yet one does see gleams of real good radiating through. The Tashi

Lama whom Bogle met was a man of real worth. His successor of the

present day produced a most favourable impression in India, and excited

the enthusiasm of Sven Hedin. Deep down under the dirty crust there must

be some hidden source of strength in these Lamas, or they would not

exert the influence they do. Millions of men over hundreds of years are

not influenced entirely by chicanery and fraud. And I think I caught a

glimpse of that inner power during a visit I paid to the Jo Khang

Temple.

This temple, or cathedral, as it has sometimes been styled, has been

fully described by Sarat Chandra Das, Perceval Landon, and others. The

latter especially has given a remarkably vivid description of his

impression. It is, as Colonel Waddell has aptly styled it, the St.

Peter’s of Lamadom, and is chiefly noteworthy as containing the image of

Buddha, made in India, but brought to Lhasa from China by the Chinese

Princess who married a Tibetan King and introduced Buddhism into the

country.

I visited this temple with full ceremony after the Treaty was signed,

and was received with every mark of cordiality by the Chief Priest. I

was even shown round what might be called the high-altar, in spite of my

protestations that I might be intruding where I should not go. The

actual building is not imposing. The original temple, built about A.D.

650, according to Waddell, has been added to, and the result is a

confused pile without symmetry, and devoid of any single complete

architectural idea. One sees a forest of wooden pillars grotesquely

painted, but no beautiful design or plain simple effect. Moreover, dirt

is excessively prevalent, there is an offensive smell of the putrid

butter used in the services, and the candlesticks, vases, and ceremonial

utensils, some of solid gold and of beautiful design, are not orderly

arranged.

Still, this temple, from its antiquity, from its worn pavements marking

the passage of innumerable pilgrims, from the thought that for a

thousand years those wanderers from distant lands had faced the terrors

of the desert and the mountains to prostrate themselves before the

benign and peaceful Buddha, possessed a halo and an interest which the

beauty of the Taj itself could never give it.

Here it was that I found the true inner spirit of the people. The

Mongols from their distant deserts, the Tibetans from their mountain

homes, seemed here to draw on some hidden source of power. And when from

the far recesses of the temple came the profound booming of great drums,

the chanting of monks in deep reverential rhythm, the blare of trumpets,

the clash of cymbals, and the long rolling of lighter drums, I seemed to

catch a glimpse of the source from which they drew. Music is a

proverbially fitter means than speech for expressing the eternal

realities; and in the deep rhythmic droning of the chants, the muffled

rumbling of the drums, the loud clang and blaring of cymbals and

trumpets, I realized this sombre people touching their inherent spirit,

and, in the way most fitted to them, giving vent to its mighty surgings

panting for expression.

Besides these visits to monasteries and temples, we also saw something

of the Tibetans socially during our stay in Lhasa, and Captain Walton,

through his skill in medicine, attracted many hundreds to his hospital,

and was able to get on terms of intimacy with unofficial Tibetans of the

highest position. Many would come and dine with us, for the Tibetans,

though they have the ordinary class distinctions which are found in

every people, have not those rigid caste barriers which are such a

hindrance to social intercourse in India. Even the ladies were very

nearly induced by the persuasive Captain O’Connor to come to tea, and

the wives of the Councillors had actually accepted an invitation, when

at the last moment shyness overtook them. Women are much to the fore in

Tibet, and have great influence with their husbands, so we especially

regretted not having seen them.

The Tibetans, though they have their reputation for seclusiveness, are

not by nature unsociable. We found them quite the reverse, and Kawaguchi

says that they were “originally a people highly hospitable to

strangers.” This more natural sentiment was, he says, superseded by one

of fear and even of antipathy, as the result of an insidious piece of

advice which, probably prompted by some policy of its own, the

Government of China gave to Tibet, and which was to the effect that if

the Tibetans allowed the free entrance of foreigners Buddhism would be

destroyed and replaced by Christianity. The people had, too, the idea

that we sought their gold-mines.

Whatever seclusive feeling they may have had, they abandoned it when the

Treaty was concluded. They came to our gymkhanas, and wondered why only

the first should be given the prize when all the rest had covered

exactly the same distance. They watched with wonder Vernon Magniac and

other inveterate sportsmen pulling fish out of the river by pieces of

string attached to long sticks. They watched theatrical performances,

and marvelled at our display of fireworks; and they did a magnificent

business with us in the sale, not only of supplies for the troops, but

also of innumerable curios, brass and bronze figures, turquoise

ornaments, embroideries, silks, etc.

The Tibetans are, indeed, born traders. Kawaguchi calls them a “nation

of shop-keepers.” Men and women—and the women more than the men—priests

and laity, all trade. And this is another irony of the situation, that a

people who are naturally sociable, and who are thus, too, born traders,

should have been put for so long in their seclusive position. But of

late years the departure of Lhasa merchants to India had been becoming

more frequent, and Kawaguchi says that circumstances were impressing the

Tibetans With the necessity of extending their sphere of trade, and they

realized that if their wool trade was stopped the people would be hard

hit, for sheep-rearers constituted the greater part of the whole

population.

How it was, from a Tibetan point of view, that of recent years we became

estranged is worth hearing. It was, according to Kawaguchi, the

explorations of the Bengali gentleman, Sarat Chandra Das, coupled with

the frontier troubles which followed, that changed the attitude of the

Tibetans towards us. The two events had not the slightest connection

with one another, but the Tibetans seemed to have been alarmed that the

harmless journeying of Sarat Chandra Das in 1881 was a deliberate design

on our part to subvert their religion. As to the frontier

troubles—presumably those of 1886—Kawaguchi himself says that it was the

Tibetan Government who “most indiscreetly adopted measures at the

instance of a fanatic Nechung (oracle), and proceeded to build a fort at

a frontier place which strictly belonged to Sikkim.”

But the Tibetans were apparently thoroughly nervous about the British,

and prejudiced against us on account of our subjugation of India. They

were much impressed by the moderation of our rule, by the freedom we

gave, and by the hospitals and schools. Tibetans in Darjiling who had

these advantages, and who were given small Government posts, were much

attached to our rule. And Queen Victoria was believed to be an

incarnation of the goddess of the Jo-khang Temple. All this, says

Kawaguchi, they quite acknowledged, but when they considered that these

same Englishmen annexed other people’s lands to their own dominions,

their favourable opinion received a shock, and they explained this to

themselves by supposing that "there must be two different kinds of

Englishmen in India—one benevolent and godly, and the other infernal and

quite wicked."

The Dalai Lama, who, though very anxious to clear away all corruption

from the Buddhism of Tibet, was “richer in thoughts political than

religious,” feared the British, and was always thinking how to keep us

out of Tibet. The reason why he, “who was at first as timid as a hare

towards England, should become suddenly as bold as a lion,” was that he

had a secret treaty with Russia, which he believed to be the only

country in the world strong enough to thwart England. Kawaguchi then

proceeds to relate how Dorjieff virtually monopolized the confidence of

the young Lama, how he brought gold and curios from Russia and liberal

donations to all the monasteries, and even a Bishop’s robe from the Czar

for the Dalai Lama. He tells how Dorjieff wrote a pamphlet showing that

the Czar was an incarnation of one of the founders of Lamaism, and how

the Tibetans came to believe that the Czar would sooner or later subdue

the whole world and found a gigantic Buddhist Empire. He mentions, too,

how one day after Dorjieff’s return he saw a caravan of 200 camels, and

that he was told they conveyed rifles and bullets, and that 300

camel-loads had already arrived, and the Tibetans were then elated, and

said that “now for the first time Tibet was sufficiently armed to resist

any attack which England might make, and could defiantly reject any

improper request.”

These rifles were of American manufacture, and, I believe through

neglect, got so completely out of order that the Tibetans were only able

to use very few against us. We have the assurance of the Russian

Government, too, that no agreement was made with Tibet. But these

observations of the Japanese form a remarkable corroboration of the

reports we had heard as to the mischief done by Dorjieff’s proceedings.

Summarizing the characteristics of the Tibetans, we may say, then, that

while they are affable outwardly and crafty within, as most dependent

people have to be; while they are dirty and lazy; and while their

religion is degraded, and they show no signs of either intellectual or

spiritual progress, yet at heart they are not an unkindly or unsociable

people, and they have undoubtedly strong religious feelings. Immorality

is not entirely unchecked. The Lama who married a nun had his official

career blighted. Ministers have been known to refuse their salaries as

they had enough to live on without. There is often much affection and

staunch friendship among the Tibetans. And there are in them latent

potentialities for good, which only await the right touch to bring them

into being.

* * * * *

Of the attitude of the Chinese to the Tibetans I took particular note,

for I was myself a Resident in an Indian Native State, and I was

interested in observing the attitude of a Chinese Resident in a Native

State of the Chinese Empire. One point which immediately struck me about

it was its tone of high-handedness. A century ago Manning had remarked

how “the haughty Mandarins were somewhat deficient in respect,” and I

noted the same thing. Every British Resident gives a chair to an Indian

gentleman who comes to visit him, but I found that the Chinese Resident

did not give a chair to even the Regent. He, Councillors, Members of the

National Assembly, Abbots of the great monasteries—all had to sit on

cushions on the ground, while the Resident and his Chinese staff sat on

chairs. In his reception and dismissal of them he preserved an equally

high tone of superiority. He did not rise from his chair to receive

them, as any British Resident would rise to welcome Indian gentlemen or

high officials; he merely acknowledged their salutation on entrance with

a barely noticeable inclination of his head. And, in dismissing them, he

simply said over his shoulder to his interpreter, “Tell them to go.” Our

countrymen are often accused, and sometimes with justice, of being too

high-handed with Asiatics, but we are not so high-handed with Asiatics

as Asiatics are with one another.

In another respect the Chinese are very different from us in their

dealings with a feudatory State. Hardly one of the Chinese officials we

met in Tibet could speak a word of Tibetan. Except that they married

Tibetan wives for the time that they were actually serving in Tibet,

they troubled themselves little about the people. They remained quite

aloof, took small interest in them, and certainly never worried

themselves, as a British Resident would, to improve their lot in some

way. The Chinese, both here and in Chinese Turkestan, where I had also

observed them, preserved great dignity, were very punctilious in

ceremonial, were always, so to speak, in full-dress uniform, and they

were ever highly respectful to one another. But the Tibetans were

“barbarians” in their eyes, were treated with disdainful contempt, and

the Chinese officials thought of little else but how soon they could get

back to their own civilized country.

The Tibetans naturally resented this, and hated the Chinese, but they

were also greatly awed and brow-beaten by them; and I think, too, that

the mere fact of seeing more civilized men than themselves in their

midst, and of being attached to a great Empire, with an all-powerful

Court in the background, has in itself had much to do with lifting the

Tibetans out of barbarism. The aboriginal Tibetans were a savage and

warlike race, who constantly invaded China. They have received both

their civilization and their religion from China, for Buddhism, as I

have said, reached them, not directly from India, but through a Tibetan

King’s Chinese wife, the daughter of a Chinese Emperor. Books and relics

came from India, but it was the personal influence of the Chinese wife

which seems to have had the greatest practical effect in establishing

Buddhism.

The Chinese have, too, on occasions done great service to the Tibetans

in repelling invaders, and the march of the Chinese general, over many

lofty passes, to expel the Gurkha invasion in 1792 was a military feat

of which any nation in the world might be proud. Chinese prestige in

Tibet had, according to Kawaguchi, who lived in Lhasa for three years,

dwindled since the Chino-Japanese War; and we had practical proofs even

before then that their influence was not as effective as a suzerain’s

should be. But the memory of the prodigious efforts which China does

every now and then make always inspires a certain awe in the Tibetans,

and they never feel quite sure when another may not be made.

The Chinese, then, undoubtedly impress the Tibetans, but I am bigoted

enough to think that their methods are not practically so successful as

our own. Tibet is a protected Chinese State; Kashmir is a protected

Indian State. In Tibet the Chinese Resident has, to support him, several

hundreds of Chinese soldiers, and in the present year 2,000. In Kashmir

the British Resident has not even a personal guard of British soldiers

or even of British-Indian soldiers. In Tibet the Chinese are replacing

the Tibetan by Chinese police; in Kashmir all the police are of the

Kashmir State. Kashmir is 80,500 square miles in extent, and contains

nearly as many inhabitants as Tibet, and it borders on Tibet, Turkestan,

and through its feudatories on Afghan territory, while Russian territory

is only twelve miles distant. But the whole of this is controlled and

the bordering tribes are kept in order entirely through Kashmir State

troops. British officers are employed, but not a single British or

British-Indian soldier or policeman. Yet it is unthinkable that Kashmir

troops should, against the wishes and orders of the British Government,

invade the territory of a neighbouring State, as Tibetan troops, against

the wishes and orders of the Chinese Government, invaded Sikkim in 1886.

And it is inconceivable that the Kashmir State should repudiate and

refuse to fulfil a Treaty concluded on their behalf by the British

Government, as the Tibetans repudiated and refused to fulfil the Treaty

made on their behalf by the Chinese in 1890. By all the logic of the

case the Chinese, as fellow-Asiatics and as co-religionists of the

Tibetans, should have much greater influence in Tibet than we as aliens,

with a different religion, have in Kashmir. Yet the contrary is most

emphatically the case.

The relations between ourselves and the Chinese at Lhasa I always tried

to preserve as cordial as possible. Chinese suzerainty was definitely

recognized in the Treaty, and all the way through the negotiations I had

tried to carry the Resident with me. It was no part of our policy to

supplant the Chinese. We had no idea of annexing Tibet or establishing a

protectorate over it. We merely wanted to insure that no one else had a

predominant influence in the country, that order was preserved, and that

ordinary trade facilities should be accorded us. There was nothing in

this to arouse the antagonism or jealousy of the Chinese, and as I

always tried to treat the Resident with respect, I expected, and did, in

fact, receive, his hearty co-operation. We each of us could and did help

the other, to the advantage of both.

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

CHAPTER XX

THE RETURN

Lord Cromer, when I saw him at Cairo on my way home, made a remark which

showed an unusually appreciative insight into situations such as we were

in at Lhasa. He said that everyone was praising us for reaching Lhasa,

but he thought most Englishman could do that. What he considered really

praiseworthy was our getting back again. In such situations ragged ends

are often left, resentments incurred, entanglements formed, which make

it difficult to retire with grace or even to retire at all. We were

happy in this case to be able to return to India on better terms with

the Tibetans than we had ever been before.

On September 22 I exchanged farewell visits with the Chinese Resident.

In the reserved Chinese way he was cordial enough, and we had always got

on well together. But he was in a very nasty position between the

Tibetans on the one hand and his own Government on the other, and he was

subsequently degraded and put into chains for having, it was locally

reported, been too favourable to us.

The Members of the Council also visited me, bringing presents, for the

third time, and assuring me of their friendly sentiments. They begged me

never again to entertain suspicion regarding them, and to believe that

they fully intended to carry out the Treaty.

Before leaving on the following morning, the Ti Rimpoche visited me, and

presented each of us with an image of Buddha. He had also visited

General Macdonald and given him a similar image. He was full of

kindliness, and at that moment more nearly approached Kipling’s Lama in

“Kim” than any other Tibetan I met. We were given to understand that the

presentation by so high a Lama to those who were not Buddhists of an

image of Buddha himself was no ordinary compliment. And as the reverend

old Regent rose from his seat and put the present into my hand, he said

with real impressiveness that he had none of the riches of this world,

and could only offer me this simple image. Whenever he looked upon an

image of Buddha he thought only of peace, and he hoped that whenever I

looked on it I would think kindly of Tibet. I felt like taking a part in

a religious ceremony as the kindly old man spoke those words; and I was

glad that all political wranglings were over, and that now we could part

as friends man with man.

A mile from the town a large tent had been set up by the roadside, and

here we found the whole Council, a number of the leading men of Lhasa,

and the Chinese Resident’s first and second secretaries, all assembled

to bid us a final farewell. Tea was served, and then, with many

protestations of friendship, we shook hands for the last time, remounted

our ponies, and rode away.

When I reached camp, I went off alone to the mountainside and gave

myself up to all the emotions of this eventful time. My task was over

and every anxiety was passed. The scenery was in sympathy with my

feelings; the unclouded sky a heavenly blue; the mountains softly

merging into violet; and, as I now looked towards that mysterious purply

haze in which the sacred city was once more wrapped, I no longer had

cause to dread the hatred it might hide. From it came only the echo of

the Lama’s words of peace. And with all the warmth still on me of that

impressive farewell message, and bathed in the insinuating influences of

the dreamy autumn evening, I was insensibly suffused with an almost

intoxicating sense of elation and good-will. This exhilaration of the

moment grew and grew till it thrilled through me with overpowering

intensity. Never again could I think evil, or ever again be at enmity

with any man. All nature and all humanity were bathed in a rosy glowing

radiancy; and life for the future seemed nought but buoyancy and light.

Such experiences are only too rare, and they but too soon become blurred

in the actualities of daily intercourse and practical existence. Yet it

is these few fleeting moments which are reality. In these only we see

real life. The rest is the ephemeral, the unsubstantial. And that single

hour on leaving Lhasa was worth all the rest of a lifetime.

We of the actual Mission were now to leave the military escort and ride

rapidly back to India to arrange final details with the Government of

India. So on the following morning we started early, and as we rode away

the whole of the 32nd Pioneers turned out to say good-bye. Some native

officers had come to me the previous evening to say the men wanted us to

leave camp through their lines. As we rode by, the men all came swarming

out of their tents. The native officers clustered round our ponies

shaking our hands, and the whole regiment waved and cheered as we passed

out of camp. They had been with the Mission from the very start; indeed,

they had been working at the road in that steamy Sikkim Valley before

the Mission was formed. They had been through all the fighting and

through the dreary investment at Gyantse; and it did one good to feel

that something substantial had been obtained in return for their

labours, and that they would be able to go back to their villages

rewarded and happy. Indian troops of the best type have a wonderful

capacity for invoking attachment, and for both the 32nd and 23rd

Pioneers I shall always have a warm affection.

The behaviour of these Indian troops had also contributed greatly to the

change of feeling in the Tibetans. Their discipline was excellent. They

had fought hard when fighting was necessary. When the fighting was over

they readily made friends with the Tibetans. And the latter more than

once told me that the people suffered more from their own troops than

they did from ours. This discipline and good behaviour of Indian troops

we take for granted. It is none the less very remarkable. We had with us

Gurkhas, trans-frontier Pathans, Sikhs, and Punjabi Mohammedans. All of

these in their natural state, under their own leaders, and uncontrolled

by British officers, would have played havoc in Lhasa. Their good

behaviour on the present occasion was one of the main causes of the

Tibetans suddenly swinging round as they did in our favour.

With the relays of riding animals and transport which General Macdonald

had arranged for us at every stage down the long line of communications

we now pressed rapidly on. We did not strive to emulate Mr. Perceval

Landon, who had a week or two before made the record ride from Lhasa to

India, but we doubled or trebled the ordinary marches, and in a few days

reached Gyantse again.

Here a redistribution had to be made. Captain O’Connor, to whom so much

of the success of the negotiations was due, was to remain here

permanently as Trade Agent under the new Treaty. Also a party had to be

sent to Gartok to arrange for the opening of the new trade-mart there.

And preparations for some exploration work had to be made.

As soon as the Treaty was signed and I could say for certain that we

would be returning to India, I obtained from the Tibetans and Chinese,

through Captain O’Connor’s and Mr. Wilton’s powers of persuasion, leave

for three parties to return to India by three different routes besides

the one we came up by. One party was to go down the Brahmaputra to

Assam; another party was to go up the Brahmaputra to Gartok, and come

out by Simla; and Mr. Wilton was to return to China through Eastern

Tibet. For all these passports were given, but only the second actually

set out.

The journey down the Brahmaputra was the one in which many adventurous

officers at Lhasa and Sir Louis Dane, the Foreign Secretary, were keenly

interested. No one to this day knows for certain that the San-po of

Tibet is the Brahmaputra of Assam. And it was to solve this problem, to

discover how and where this mighty river cuts its way clean through the

main axis of the Himalayas, and to see the falls and rapids which are

involved in a drop from 11,500 to 500 feet, that so many ardent spirits

were set. Mr. White was to have had charge of this party, and Captain

Ryder was to have accompanied it as Survey Officer. All that was wanting

was the sanction of the Government of India, and that, unfortunately, at

the last moment was not forthcoming. The party would have had to find a

way through some truculent, independent tribes between the border of

Tibet and the Assam frontier, and Government were not at that moment

prepared to run any further risks. It was a pity, and a sad

disappointment to many, for it will be many a year before we again have

such an opportunity of solving what is one of the greatest remaining

geographical problems.

Mr. Wilton’s journey I had myself to stop, though there is nothing I

hate more than to block enterprise in travel. The negotiations with the

Chinese were not concluded—in fact, had hardly commenced—and I could not

afford to part with anyone so valuable to us in India as he had proved

himself to be. We Indian officials are like children in dealing with the

Chinese, and the help of that special experience with which Mr. Wilton

so effectively had aided us was particularly necessary at this time,

though it is deplorable to find from the latest Blue-book how little

advantage was taken of the advice he gave.

The Gartok party I put in charge of Captain Rawling, as its main purpose

was to open the new mart, and he had in the previous year made a

remarkable and most useful journey in Western Tibet. Captain Ryder had

been detailed for charge of the survey operations of the expedition down

the Brahmaputra, and Lieutenant Wood, R.E., who had been engaged for

some time in resurveying the peaks round Mount Everest in Nepal, was to

have done the survey work with the Gartok party. But now that the

project for the former expedition had fallen through, Captain Ryder also

accompanied the Gartok party and took charge of the survey. He was an

officer of great capacity, and during the Mission had done most valuable

work in extending the triangulation of India right up to Lhasa. He had

now an even more interesting piece of geographical work before him—the

survey of the upper course of the Brahmaputra (San-po) to its source,

and the settling definitely of the question whether there was any higher

peak than Everest at the back of the Himalayas.

But the party would have to race against time, for they had many

hundreds of miles to traverse, and had to cross the Himalayas back to

Simla before the winter finally closed the passes. They had also to face

the possibility of obstruction in the matter of supplies and transport,

and even the possibility of active hostility, for they would be

travelling with no other escort than a Gurkha orderly apiece through a

country which had only recently been in open arms against us.

Captain O’Connor and Mr. Magniac accompanied them as far as Shigatse,

and Lieutenant Bailey, 32nd Pioneers, a keen and adventurous officer,

who had distinguished himself with the mounted infantry, and in his

leisure moments learnt Tibetan, was also attached to the party to

proceed to India.

Captain O’Connor was most warmly received by the Tashi Lama, and laid

the foundation of as sincere a friendship as Bogle had with his

predecessor. Every arrangement was readily made, and the party was

despatched under the best possible auspices. Its result Captain Ryder,

who was awarded the gold medal of the Royal Geographical Society, has

given in a lecture before that Society.

The survey work had to be conducted under the most trying conditions.

Besides the ordinary march, high mountains had to be ascended for

purposes of observation and these observations in winds of hurricane

force and in piercing cold were wellnigh impossible to make. From a spot

directly opposite Everest the surveyors saw this superb mountain

towering up high above the rest of the range with a drop of 8,000 feet

on either side, and the point was settled that there was no other peak

on the north approaching it in height. They surveyed the Brahmaputra

(San-po) to its source, as well as the Gartok branch of the Indus. They

established the trade-mart at Gartok, installing a native agent there.

They completed the survey of the Sutlej from its source (which they

concluded was among the hills on either side of the lake region) to

British territory. In all they accurately surveyed 40,000 square miles

of territory. And after crossing the Himalayas by the Ayi-la (pass),

18,700 feet, in deep snow and with the thermometer 24° below zero, they

reached British territory on Christmas Eve, and Simla on January 11. It

was a good piece of work, magnificently executed, for which the greatest

credit is due to both Captain Rawling and Captain Ryder, and it was an

immense relief to hear of their safe arrival in spite of the risks of

hostility and of cold.

* * * * *

In the meanwhile Messrs. White, Walsh, Wilton, and myself had proceeded

on to India. It was fairly cold even as we crossed the Tang-la, the

thermometer not being much above zero, but we were fortunate to escape

the blizzard, the 3 feet of snow, and 27° of frost which General

Macdonald and the troops experienced a week or two later, and which

caused the death of two men and about 200 cases of snow-blindness.

We had a long, steep, cold ride over our final pass—the Nathu-la—and

then we rode down and down through all the glorious Sikkim vegetation

into soft and balmy ease. A scientific gentleman once asked what was the

chief effect of being a long time at high altitudes, and I told him the

principal effect was a desire to get to a lower altitude as soon as

possible. Now that we were back at ordinary human altitudes, bathed in

delicious air and basking in the glorious sunshine, we realized what the

strain of those high levels, combined with the biting cold, had been.

Life seemed so easy now. There was no more unconscious effort in

breathing; no more conscious fighting against the cold. Existence was

once again a pleasure, and in the best season of the year, amid the most

splendid scenery in the world, with snowy peaks rising sheer out of

tropical forests into a cloudless sky, there was little more a man could

wish.

But in the midst of this dream of ease, and just the very day before I

reached Darjiling, came the rude shock that the best points I had

obtained at Lhasa were to be given up. I will deal with this matter in a

subsequent Chapter. It is enough here to state that all the pleasure of

my return was dashed from me in a moment, and I bitterly regretted ever

having undertaken so delicate a task with my hands so tied.

As we approached Darjiling we passed an enthusiastic tea-planter sitting

at his gateway with a gramophone, which, as we neared him, struck up

“See the Conquering Hero comes.” He said he was by himself, and the

gramophone was all the band he had, but he felt he must do something to

welcome us; and this, our first greeting in British territory, given

with such genuine feeling, went no small way to restoring my spirits.

At the station outside Darjiling I met my wife, and only then realized

what the strain and anxiety to her my absence in Tibet must have caused.

We went by rail to Darjiling itself, and there I had the unexpected

honour of being welcomed on the platform by the kindly Sir Andrew

Fraser, Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, and nearly the whole of the

European residents in the place. They had all—and particularly Sir

Andrew and Lady Fraser—been so especially kind to my wife I could not

thank them enough. Mr. and Mrs. Macpherson, Mrs. Walsh, and many others

had never failed in their thoughtfulness, and I hope when they read this

they will believe that their kindness will never be forgotten by either

of us.

We stopped at Darjiling only a day, which I set apart entirely for our

little girl, and then Messrs. White and Wilton, with my wife and myself,

set out on our last stage to Simla, where Lord and Lady Ampthill warmly

welcomed us to Viceregal Lodge. Lord Kitchener had already asked us by

telegram to dine with him our first night at Simla, and from Sir Denzil

and Lady Ibbetson, Sir Arundel Arundel, Sir Louis and Lady Dane, and

many others we received the greatest kindness.

Nor could anything have been more generous than the support which Lord

Ampthill and the whole Government of India gave me in the matter of the

disallowed points in the Treaty. But what caused me anxiety was the view

which Lord Curzon would take of what I had done. He had recommended me

originally on account of my discretion. As long as he was in India he

had given me unfailing and ungrudging support, besides the personal

encouragement of a real friend; and if he thought that in the end I had

failed him I should have been miserable for the rest of my days. I had

acted absolutely and entirely on my own responsibility in what, in most

difficult circumstances, had seemed to me the best for my country; and I

had to take the risk of my action being approved or disapproved. But it

would have been indeed a blow if I found Lord Curzon thought I had acted

wrongly.

So I hastened home, and at Port Said stopped to meet him on his way out

to India again. In one moment he set me right. I dined with him on the

P. & O. steamer, and for hours afterwards on deck we talked over all the

stirring events which had happened since we had parted in his camp at

Patiala. Of all he was warmly appreciative. There is no man more staunch

in friendship, and no keener patriot in England, than Lord Curzon; and

what he did for the Indian Empire, and still more what he would have

done if he had been more amply supported from England, will perhaps some

day be more fully recognized than it is at present. If this Mission had

been a failure, on him would have fallen the blame. How much its success

was due to him no one knew better than I did.

On my arrival in England I had the honour of an audience of His late

Majesty, and the reward I most appreciated for my services in Tibet was

this opportunity of personally knowing my Sovereign. I saw him quite

alone. He placed me in a chair by his desk, and then in some indefinable

way made it possible for me to speak to him as I would have to my own

father. He was himself most outspoken. He did not merely ask questions

in a perfunctory way, but took a genuinely keen interest in our

proceedings. He warmly praised the conduct of the troops. He was well

aware of the deeds, and even character, of individual officers, and he

spoke most feelingly of the loss of Major Bretherton, of whose splendid

work he was fully cognizant. It appeared to me that it was men, and not

policies, which chiefly interested him: human personalities rather than

abstract principles. He was himself, as all the world now knows, a

generous personality; and not merely a great Sovereign, but a great man.

No one I have ever met has given me such an impression of abounding

vitality and warm-blooded humanity, full and overflowing. And I left his

august presence not only rewarded, but re-inspired.

Through the kindness of H.R.H. Princess Christian, who informed His

Majesty of my wish, the flag[41] which I had with me throughout the

Mission, which was carried before me on every march, which was planted

before my tent in camp, which was flown over the Mission quarters at

Gyantse, and which was placed on the table on which the Treaty was

signed at Lhasa, was deposited in Windsor Castle, and by His Majesty’s

express commands was hung in the Central Hall over the statue of Queen

Victoria.

-----

Footnote 41:

The flag known as a "Viceroy’s flag"—a Union Jack with a star in the

middle and the motto "Heaven’s Light our Guide"—flown by political

officers in India.

-----

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

CHAPTER XXI

THE RESULTS OF THE MISSION

Even in the present year I was asked by a Cabinet Minister what good we

did in going to Lhasa. Since that question was asked one striking result

of our Mission has come to light, in the fact of the Dalai Lama, who

before we went to Lhasa would not even receive a communication from the

Viceroy, now in person, at Calcutta itself, appealing to the Viceroy to

preserve his _right_ of direct communication with us. The suspicious and

hostile attitude of the Tibetans has so far changed that they have now

asked us to form an alliance, and to send a British officer to their

sacred city. To attribute this change entirely to the effects of the

Mission may not be justifiable. Much is due to the tactlessness of the

Chinese treatment of the Tibetans. But the change in direction of

Tibetan feeling was visible before we left Lhasa, and there is good

cause for assuming that if Lord Curzon had never despatched the Mission

to break through the Tibetan reserve, they would have still been as

inimical to us and as inclined towards Russia as they were six years

ago. The conversion of our north-eastern neighbours from potential

enemies into applicant allies may be taken as one result of the Mission.

When the Mission was despatched into Tibet, we had for thirty years been

trying to regulate our intercourse with our Tibetan neighbours, but had

obtained no success whatever. The Treaty which their suzerain had made

with us was repudiated. Boundary pillars were thrown down, trade was

boycotted, our communications were returned. And the Dalai Lama showed a

decided leaning towards the Russians. As a result of Lord Curzon’s

policy in sending a Mission to Tibet, there had been signed by the

Tibetan Government in the audience-room of the Dalai Lama’s palace in

Lhasa itself, in the presence of the Chinese Amban and of all the chief

men of Tibet, a Treaty which defined our boundaries, placed our trade

relations upon a satisfactory footing, and gave us the right to exclude

any foreign influence if we should so wish. And in spite of the military

operations which we were forced to undertake, and in spite of the

Tibetans being compelled to pay an indemnity, the position of the

Tibetans towards us was distinctly more favourable when we left Tibet

than when we entered it.

In making my final report to Government, I said that I had always

regarded the conclusion of a treaty on paper as of minor importance, and

the establishment of our relations with the Tibetans on a footing of

mutual good-will as of fundamental importance. There was little

advantage in bringing back a Treaty which was not framed or negotiated

in such a manner as to carry with it a considerable degree of

spontaneous assent. And it was especially necessary to secure the

good-will of the people in general.

The result of our Mission to Kabul in 1840 was to estrange the Afghans

from us from that time to this, and an intense race hatred was

engendered. It would be unwise to predict that we shall never have any

difficulty in seeing that the present Treaty is properly carried out.

But I can safely say that no feeling of race hatred was left behind by

the Mission, and that after the Treaty was signed the Tibetans were

better disposed towards us than they had ever been before. And this I

consider to be incomparably the most important result of the policy

which the Government of India had so unswervingly pursued.

A further result was the friendship of Bhutan. When the Mission started,

the Bhutanese were practically strangers, and their attitude was

uncertain. When the Mission returned they were our firm friends. The

chief visited Calcutta. Mr. White has twice been most cordially received

in Bhutan. And the former Tongsa Penlop, now the Maharaja of Bhutan, has

formally placed himself under our protectorate.

Besides these political results, there were also scientific results of

no mean value. Captain Ryder’s survey operations have already been

referred to. Mr. Hayden made valuable geological collections, which are

on view in the Museum at Calcutta, and which are described by him in the

Records of the Geological Survey of India. Captain Walton’s natural

history and botanical collections are placed in the Natural History

Museum at South Kensington and in Kew Gardens, and have been described

in various scientific works. Colonel Waddell was unable to discover any

secrets of the ancient world said to be hidden in Tibet, but he made a

collection of Tibetan manuscripts, which are deposited in the British

Museum.

If all these political and scientific results may not seem to the

ordinary Englishman to amount to much, the most obtuse must at least see

one good that came from the Mission—the proving for all time that we can

get to Lhasa, and that, even at the cost of crossing the Himalayas in

mid-winter, we will see our treaties observed. Anyone practised in

affairs knows the advantage of a reputation for enforcing obligations,

and this at least accrued to us from the Mission of 1904.

* * * * *

But I have already mentioned that the Secretary of State felt himself

unable to approve of the Treaty as signed, and I have now to show how it

was that some of the advantages to which the Indian Government attached

most importance had to be abandoned.

A week after the signing of the Treaty the Government of India

telegraphed to me that the Secretary of State considered that a

difficulty was presented by the amount of the indemnity, especially when

the provision for its payment was read in conjunction with Clause VII.

of the Treaty, the effect being that our occupation of Chumbi might have

to continue for seventy-five years. This was, the Secretary of State

said, inconsistent with the instructions conveyed in his telegram of

July 26, and with the declaration of His Majesty’s Government as to

withdrawal. The Government of India were, therefore, asked to consider

whether, without prejudice to the signed agreement, it would not be

possible to intimate to the Tibetans that the amount of the indemnity

would be reduced on their duly fulfilling the terms agreed to and

granting further facilities for trade.

Some correspondence followed, but, owing to the shortness of my stay at

Lhasa and the undesirability of attempting to alter a Treaty directly it

had been made, no action was taken, and I returned with the Treaty

intact.

The Government of India wrote on October 6 to the Secretary of State[42]

reviewing the conditions under which I had had to make the Treaty, and

saying that they considered I was fully justified in using my discretion

as I did and in signing the Treaty on September 7 without awaiting

approval of the amount of the indemnity and the method of its payment,

and pointing out that any alteration in the terms at the critical moment

would probably have led to a recommencement of the whole discussion.

They also thought my action in acquiring the right for our Agent at

Gyantse to proceed to Lhasa under certain conditions might be approved.

They were still of opinion that the right might be of the greatest value

hereafter, and, hedged in as it was by the conditions mentioned in it,

it could not be held, they thought, to commit us to any political

control over Tibet.

At the same time the Government of India expressed their sincere regret

that the instructions of His Majesty’s Government were not carried out

to the letter, as they would have been if communication with their

Commissioner had not been a matter of twelve days even by telegraph.

Regarding the amendment of the Treaty to meet the wishes of His

Majesty’s Government, they proposed by telegram on October 21[43] that

in ratifying it a declaration should be appended by the Viceroy reducing

the indemnity from 75 to 25 lakhs, and affirming that after three annual

instalments had been paid the British occupation of the Chumbi Valley

should terminate, provided the terms of the Treaty should in the

meantime have been carried out.

To this proposal the Secretary of State agreed on November 7,[44] but he

added that, as regards the agreement giving the Agent at Gyantse the

right of access to Lhasa, His Majesty’s Government had decided to

disallow it, for they considered it unnecessary, and inconsistent with

the principle on which their policy had throughout been based.

Finally, the Secretary of State reviewed the whole affair in a despatch

dated December 2. When Lord Curzon, in his despatch of January 8, 1903,

made his proposal for a Mission to Lhasa, Tibet, though lying on our

borders, was practically an unknown country, the rulers of which

persistently refused to hold any communications with the British

Government even on necessary matters of business; and if the Tibetan

Government had become involved in political relations with other Powers,

a situation of danger might have been created on the frontier of the

Indian Empire. This risk had now been removed by the conclusion of the

Treaty. And it was considered most satisfactory that, having regard to

the obstinacy of the Tibetans in the past, I should, besides concluding

the Treaty, have good reason to believe that the relations which I had

established with them at Lhasa were generally friendly.

In the Treaty I had inserted a stipulation that the indemnity was to be

paid in 75 annual instalments, and I had retained without modification

the proviso that the Chumbi Valley was to be occupied as security till

the full amount had been paid. The effect of this was to make it appear

as if it were our intention to occupy for at least seventy-five years

the Chumbi Valley, which had been recognized in the Convention of 1890

and the Trade Regulations of 1893 as Tibetan territory. This would have

been inconsistent with the repeated declarations of His Majesty’s

Government that the Mission would not lead to occupation, and that we

would withdraw from Tibetan territory when reparation had been secured.

It had been hoped that it would be possible to alter the Treaty before I

left Lhasa, but it was clear in the circumstances that it was not

desirable that I should have postponed my departure.

As to the separate agreement, the question of claiming for the trade

agents at Gyantse the right of access to Lhasa was carefully considered

before His Majesty’s Government decided that no such condition was to be

included in the terms of the settlement, and a subsequent request made

by the Government of India for a modification of this decision was

negatived by the telegram of August 3. No subsequent reference was made

to the Secretary of State on the subject, and it was not till the

receipt of the letter of October 6 from the Government of India that he

learned that I had taken on myself the responsibility of concluding an

agreement giving the trade agent at Gyantse the right to visit Lhasa to

consult with the Chinese and Tibetan officers there on commercial

matters, which it had been found impossible to settle at Gyantse. In the

circumstances, His Majesty’s Government had no alternative but to

disallow the agreement as inconsistent with the policy which they had

laid down.

Attention had already been drawn to the fact that questions of Indian

frontier policy could no longer be regarded from an exclusively Indian

point of view, and that the course to be pursued in such cases must be

laid down by His Majesty’s Government alone. It was essential that this

should be borne in mind by those who found themselves entrusted with the

conduct of affairs in which the external relations of India were

involved, and that they should not allow themselves, under the pressure

of the problems which confronted them on the spot, to forget the

necessity of conforming to the instructions which they had received from

His Majesty’s Government, who had more immediately before them the

interests of the British Empire as a whole.

Such were the final views and orders of the Secretary of State upon the

Mission. The reasons for my action in extending the period of payment,

in securing the right to occupy the Chumbi Valley during that extended

period, and in obtaining the right for our Agent at Gyantse to proceed

to Lhasa, have been already given. I had to act in circumstances that

were very exceptional, and I thought I was not taking more latitude than

such circumstances naturally confer on an agent. The pledges to Russia

were given with a qualification, but the main pledge, that we would not

annex Tibet, or establish a protectorate over it, or interfere in its

internal administration, had not, in my view, been infringed by the

Treaty I signed.

We may assume that Government had some pressing international

consideration of the moment which necessitated their taking no account

of the qualification to their pledges, but there is some justification

for thinking that if the Treaty had not been modified, and the right to

occupy the Chumbi Valley and to send the Gyantse Agent to Lhasa had been

maintained, we might have prevented the present trouble from ever

arising.

-----

Footnote 42:

Blue-book, III., p. 74.

Footnote 43:

_Ibid._, p. 70.

Footnote 44:

Blue-book, III., p. 77.

-----

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

CHAPTER XXII

NEGOTIATIONS WITH CHINA

We had settled with Tibet direct, as was Lord Curzon’s chief object, and

it had been proposed that China should sign what was styled an Adhesion

Agreement, formally acknowledging the Tibetan Treaty. But Yu-tai, the

Resident at Lhasa, was instructed not to sign any such agreement, and a

Special Envoy was sent by the Chinese Government to Calcutta to treat

with the Indian Government in the matter. Yu-tai himself had been

specially deputed for these negotiations regarding Tibet, but apparently

he was considered too complacent, and first of all, Mr. Tang, and then

Mr. Chang, were sent to Calcutta, and from now onwards the Chinese

showed first great diplomatic insistence, and then great military

activity, in regard to Tibet, till, profiting by the jealousy between us

and the Russians, which had prevented our reaping all the fruits of the

Mission to Lhasa, they one by one gathered those fruits themselves.

Nothing resulted from Mr. Tang’s visit to India, and ill-health caused

him to return to China. But on April 27, 1906, in place of an Adhesion

Agreement, a Convention was signed at Peking between Great Britain and

China which “confirmed” the Lhasa Convention of 1904. In addition, Great

Britain engaged “not to annex Tibetan territory, or to interfere in the

administration of Tibet”; while the Chinese Government undertook “not to

permit any other foreign State to interfere with the territory or

internal administration of Tibet.” We were entitled to lay down

telegraph-lines to connect the trade-marts with India. And it was laid

down that the provisions of the old Convention of 1890, and the Trade

Regulations of 1893, remained in full force.

The signature of this Convention, far from improving our status in

Tibet, or conferring any increased regularity upon our intercourse,

seems to have had a precisely opposite effect. The impression was spread

abroad in Tibet that this new Convention superseded the Lhasa

Convention, and the Chinese assumed that we had virtually recognized

their sovereignty in the country. They had obtained from us the

engagement not to annex Tibetan territory, and with this and the renewed

formal recognition of their rights of suzerainty after they had shown

themselves so incapable of carrying out their suzerain duties, we might

have expected that they would have shown at least a neighbourly feeling

in Tibetan affairs, but we have so far been disappointed in this

respect, and the 1906 Convention promises to be as little use to us as

the 1890 Convention.

The first indications of the tone which the Chinese were going to adopt

in Tibet was furnished by Mr. Chang, who was now appointed a High

Commissioner for Tibet. On his arrival in Chumbi there was at once an

“incident” with the British officer, Lieutenant Campbell, in political

charge there. Lieutenant Campbell had been specially chosen for his

knowledge of the Chinese language and customs. He had spent a year in

China learning the language, and had carried out a remarkable and

interesting journey from Peking to Kashmir by Chinese Turkestan. On Mr.

Chang’s arrival in Chumbi, Mr. Campbell proceeded in uniform to call on

him, but he was first asked to enter by a side door, and afterwards told

that Mr. Chang was not very well and was lying down. This may have been

the case, but, combined with other acts, it produced the impression that

he meant to ignore the British occupation and assert Chinese authority.

Mr. Chang’s action at Gyantse gave rise to a similar impression that he

was aiming at the belittlement of British influence rather than at

cordially co-operating with our officers as Yu-tai had. He posted there

a Chinese official named Gow as Sub-Prefect, with the title of Chinese

Commissioner in charge of the Chinese Trade and Diplomatic Agency; and

this Mr. Gow proved so contumacious that Sir Edward Grey had eventually

to press for his withdrawal. He threatened to stop the supply of

provisions by Tibetans to our Trade Agent unless they were paid for at

rates to be fixed by himself; and he also, apparently under sanction

from Peking, claimed that in all transactions between the Tibetans and

British officers _he should act as intermediary_.

This was a clear enough indication of Mr. Chang’s line. He meant to get

in between us and the Tibetans. And the Tibetans at Gyantse had many

rumours just now that he was going to eject the Europeans and the Indian

troops from Gyantse; that if the Indian Government did not agree,

Chinese troops would be sent to expel us by force from Tibet. It was

explained that Chinese troops were not sent to oppose us during the time

of the Tibet Mission because there was no time to collect them. It was

also reported that Mr. Chang intended to object to British officials and

other Europeans travelling in Tibet except between the trade-marts and

India. And this is what in fact he did in the case of Sven Hedin. He

wrote him a very polite note saying what interest he took in geography

and so forth, but adding: “The last treaty between China and Great

Britain contains a paragraph declaring that no stranger, whether he be

Englishman or Russian, an American or European, has any right to visit

Tibet, the three market towns excepted.” The Treaty has no such clause.

It simply confirmed the Lhasa Treaty, in which was a clause stipulating

that the agents or representatives of foreign Powers should not be

admitted. As a matter of fact Sven Hedin was not the agent of a foreign

Power, but a scientific traveller, and in any case the Lhasa Treaty

simply laid down that agents should not be admitted “without the

previous consent of the British Government.” Sven Hedin was then at

Shigatse. He was being most cordially received by the Tashi Lama, who

was quite willing to let him travel where he liked. It was merely Mr.

Chang who twisted and misquoted the Lhasa Treaty to exclude him.

Later other evidence of Mr. Chang’s antipathy came to light. The Tibetan

Jongpens at Gyantse informed Captain O’Connor in January, 1907, that

since his arrival upon the scene their position had become very

difficult, for he had told them that in future the Chinese were to act

as intermediaries between the English and Tibetans, and so before

complying with any request of his they would be obliged to ask the

permission of Mr. Gow. And on March 5 Captain O’Connor telegraphed that

he was now completely cut off from personal intercourse with Tibetan

officials, as Mr. Gow refused to let the Jongpens see him.

In other directions also the change for the worse since Mr. Chang’s

arrival was apparent. The Resident Yu-tai, with whom I negotiated in

1904, was reported to have been dismissed from office and imprisoned in

fetters in January, 1907. His Secretary was also degraded, and a desire

to sweep away all Chinese officials connected with the improvement of

our relations with the Tibetans seemed to have inspired Mr. Chang’s

actions. A similar resentment against Tibetan officials concerned with

the recent negotiations was also shown, two Councillors and a General

being degraded. These incidents afforded, in the opinion of the

Government of India, indubitable proof of Mr. Chang’s determination to

upset the _status quo_ and destroy the position secured to us by the

Mission. Mr. Chang’s assumption seems to have been that virtual

recognition of Chinese sovereignty over Tibet was involved in the

signature of the latest Convention with China.

So clear, indeed, had the intention of the Chinese to work against us

rather than with us been showing itself that Sir Edward Grey, on

February 9, 1907,[45] telegraphed to Sir John Jordan that, while it was

our desire to have matters put right, not by separate action in Tibet,

but through the medium of the Chinese Government, he should bring Mr.

Chang’s action to the attention of the Chinese Government, and point out

to them that the recognition by China of the Lhasa Treaty was not

consistent with the punishment of officials for being concerned in its

negotiation. Our Minister was further to state that interference by

Chinese officers with the freedom of the dealings between the Tibetan

Agent and the British Trade Agent at Gyantse could not be permitted by

His Majesty’s Government.

Again, on March 15,[46] he telegraphed that “the right of direct

communication between the British Agent and local Tibetan authorities

must be firmly insisted on,” and the Chinese Government must be “urged

to send very clear instructions in this sense to Chang.”

Later, again, on June 27, Sir Edward Grey had again to telegraph to our

Minister to make further very serious representations to the Chinese

Government on the subject. He was to draw their attention to the fact

that no friction existed between Captain O’Connor and the Tibetans of

the locality previous to the intervention of Mr. Chang and Mr. Gow. We

wanted nothing more than freedom of trade, for our political interests

were safeguarded by clauses in the Treaty, and we had no wish to assert

any political influence ourselves. We did not even desire to foster

trade. We wished, indeed, to reduce the establishment at the marts, and,

if things went on quietly, native instead of British agents might be

appointed there. But Sir Edward Grey considered that China was “trifling

with her obligations in the matter of Tibet,” and he suggested that Mr.

Gow should be entirely removed from all employment in that country.

In consequence of these representations Mr. Gow was withdrawn from

Tibet, but only to be given a higher appointment in a more popular part

of the Chinese Empire—the Directorship of Telegraphs at Mukden in

Manchuria—and the attitude of the Chinese in Tibet has not yet really

changed. Perhaps the reason may be found in the hint given by Sir John

Jordan, who, when the Grand Secretary told him that the Wai-wu-pu had

always been puzzled to know the causes of the friction between Mr. Gow

and the British Trade Agent, expressed his conviction that they lay in

the fact that someone from Peking had been inspiring a policy in Tibetan

affairs which was hostile to the Treaty and to British interests.

In any case, whether the cause lay in Peking, or with Mr. Chang, or with

the Tibetans, the fact was clear that the Treaty had not been carried

out; and the Government of India thought it necessary to bring the

matter formally to the notice of the Secretary of State in a despatch

dated July 18, 1907. Considering what had taken place at Gyantse, it was

impossible to admit, they said, that the Gyantse trade-mart had been

effectively open during the last few months. Our Agent had been cut off

from intercourse with the Tibetan authorities, and no adequate provision

had been made for British traders having resort to the mart. The agents

whom the Lhasa Government had nominated for the marts had not been

allowed freedom of communication with the British Trade Agent. And

various minor difficulties had arisen in connection with the opening of

the Gartok trade-mart. The Government of India, therefore, suggested

that the Chinese and Tibetan Governments should be formally reminded of

these various breaches of the Convention which had occurred, and more

particularly of the failure to open the marts, which was a matter which

struck at the root of the whole Convention.

Mr. Morley thought[47] the situation at Gyantse constituted undoubtedly

a serious cause of complaint, but, in view of the reply of the Chinese

Government to the representations recently made to them, he doubted the

expediency of making any further reference to the subject at the moment.

If, when the negotiations with Mr. Chang regarding the Trade Regulations

commenced, the attitude of the Chinese and Tibetan representative should

prove obstructive, the question would arise whether the British

representative should not be authorized to warn them that our evacuation

of the Chumbi Valley depended on a satisfactory settlement of the

matters connected with the trade-marts being arrived at, the Chinese and

Tibetan Governments being simultaneously warned to the same effect.

So for the present ended any idea of direct remonstrance regarding

breaches of the Treaty. But it was not only locally at the trade-marts

that the Chinese were pursuing their policy of separating the Tibetans

from us. By an astute move they had already sought to effect the same

end through payment of the indemnity. By the terms of the Treaty this

was due from the Tibetans. Though we might well have demanded the

indemnity from the Chinese, and many think that we should have demanded

part, at least, for it was to enforce a Treaty which they had _asked_ us

to make, which they had assured us they could see observed, but of

which, from 1890 to 1904, they were never able to secure fulfilment,

that we went to Lhasa, we instead demanded it from the Tibetans, and, on

account of their poverty, we reduced the amount payable from 75 to 25

lakhs of rupees—from half a million sterling to £166,666. The Chinese

now said that they would pay this reduced indemnity. In an Imperial

Decree issued in November, 1905, it was ordered that the indemnity

should, in view of the poverty of the people, be paid by the Chinese

Government—that is, that the Chinese Government should pay it over to us

direct for, and on behalf of, Tibet.

In forwarding this information, Sir Ernest Satow suggested that we

should inform the Chinese Government that we could not receive payment

from them. He believed that the Chinese Government were trying to make

themselves the intermediary of all communications between India and

Tibet, and it seemed to him reasonable to conclude that this declaration

of their intention to pay the indemnity was intended to force the hand

of the Indian Government, and induce them to accept an arrangement which

the Chinese Government could afterwards quote as a precedent in other

matters.

Lord Lansdowne—these negotiations commenced while the late Government

were still in office—felt difficulty in advising the India Office[48] as

to how to deal with the matter. It was on the one hand obvious that the

indemnity was required of the Tibetans partly as a punitive measure and

partly in order that by the annual payment of the necessary instalments

they should formally recognize the binding nature of the obligations

entered into by them towards the British Government. Should the annual

instalments henceforth be paid by the Chinese Government, the punitive

effect of the indemnity would disappear, for it did not seem to Lord

Lansdowne at all probable that the Chinese Government would be able or

willing to recover from the Tibetan Government the sums paid on this

account, and past experience had proved that it was not in the power of

China to insist effectively on the fulfilment of the other stipulations

of the Convention.

Lord Lansdowne felt no doubt that the proposal had been made by the

Chinese Government with the object of re-establishing their theoretical

rights to supremacy over the Tibetan Government, and probably also with

the object of insuring that the non-payment of the instalments at their

due date should not stand in the way of the retirement of the British

forces. Irrespectively of these considerations, the refusal of the

Chinese Government to adhere to the Tibetan Agreement made it doubly

difficult for us to entertain the offer, and upon this ground alone Lord

Lansdowne considered that it should be rejected. For acceptance would be

tantamount to admitting the intervention of China in relieving Tibet

from this portion of her obligations while avoiding all responsibility

for any other portion of the Convention.

Should the attitude of the Chinese Government undergo a change in

consequence of our refusal, and should they intimate that they would

adhere to the Agreement, the situation would no doubt be altered, and

might be reconsidered by His Majesty’s Government. Having regard,

however, to the complete inability shown by China in the past to

exercise effectual control over the Tibetan authorities, it seemed to

Lord Lansdowne that it would be highly inadvisable to agree to any

settlement which might be regarded as an admission that responsibility

for the behaviour of the Tibetans would for the future rest upon the

Chinese Government.

This view of Lord Lansdowne’s and Sir Ernest Satow’s, both very able and

experienced diplomatists, was justified by the event. It was here that

the Chinese began their series of efforts again to thrust themselves in

between us and the Tibetans, and prevent that direct relationship

between us which, through the futility of the Chinese themselves, we had

been compelled at so much cost to establish. If we had stood firm at the

start on this point, which was one on which we had a perfect right to

stand fast, much future trouble might have been saved.

The Government of India concurred in this view, and thought that the

annual payment by Tibetans in Tibet, even though China should provide

the money, would be preferable from the point of view of local political

effect, to payment of a lump sum by China direct. The course, therefore,

which was preferred was, that a notification should first be made by

them to the Tibetans under Article VI. of the Convention, to the effect

that we desired payment at Gyantse of the first instalment; and that His

Majesty’s Minister at Peking should then inform the Chinese Government

that His Majesty’s Government could not recognize the right of

intervention on their part, as they had not adhered to the Convention.

A notification was accordingly given to the Tibetan Government that Rs.

100,000, the first instalment of the indemnity, was due on January 1,

1906, and should be paid at Gyantse. They replied in January, 1906, that

the revenue of Tibet was not great, and that the Chinese Resident had

stated that the payment of the indemnity was to be the subject of

discussion with China, in which Tang at Calcutta was to act. Thus, said

the Government of India, as a result of the action of the Chinese, the

Treaty had been broken by the Tibetans, for no payment of the indemnity

had been made on the date fixed. They proposed, therefore, to inform the

Tibetan Government that they held them responsible for the payment of

the indemnity under the terms of the Treaty.

Mr. Morley, who had succeeded Mr. Brodrick, approved of the proposal,

but added that this would not preclude our accepting payment eventually

from the Chinese Government if agreement with them as to the Tibet

Convention should be arrived at; and in a later telegram he said that

“direct payment by China could not be refused by us after the Adhesion

Convention had been concluded.”

The principle that the Chinese should pay instead of the Tibetans was

therefore practically conceded. But another point arose. The Chinese had

said they wished to pay the amount of 25 lakhs of rupees (Rs. 25,00,000)

in three annual instalments, but by the Treaty the payment was to be

paid in annual instalments of 1 lakh each. The suggestion that the whole

indemnity should be paid in three instalments the Government of India

thought a Chinese device, having for its object the weakening of our

position in Tibet. The Treaty obligation was clear. And the Indian

Government preferred, as requested by the Tibetans themselves at the

time of signing the Treaty, to receive annual payments of 1 lakh each at

Gyantse, both for political effect and because money was required for

recurring rent expenditure there.

Mr. Morley felt much hesitation in accepting the views of the Government

of India on this point. While recognizing that certain advantages had

been supposed by some to arise from the political point of view in

maintaining our hold over the Tibetans for the full period of

twenty-five years, he was of opinion that such advantages would be

altogether outweighed by our relief from the necessity of enforcing a

direct annual tribute for so long a period.

Shortly after, on April 27, the Chinese signed the Convention which has

been described at the beginning of this Chapter, and the Chinese

Government were informed that we agreed to accept the offer to pay the

whole of the indemnity in three instalments, and that the first

instalment would be accepted from the Sha-pé either by cheque, handed to

the British Commercial Agent at Gyantse, or by cheque to the Government

of India, drawn on the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank.

The Chinese had made good their first point, and we had receded from yet

another stage which we had reached in 1904. Their next point had now to

be made—to get us to accept payment in India instead of in Tibet. The

Tibetan Sha-pé being in Calcutta at the time, we did not raise any

difficulty about accepting payment of the first instalment there. But

when the question of the payment of the second instalment arose, the

Government of India pointed out that under the Treaty it should be paid

at such place as the British Government might indicate, whether in Tibet

or in the British districts of Darjiling or Jalpaiguri. Permission had

been given to pay the first instalment at Calcutta, as the Tibetan

Councillor happened to be there at the time, but the Government of India

wished that the second instalment should be handed over by a Tibetan

official to our Trade Agent at Gyantse. But the Secretary of State

telegraphed that it would be in accordance with the present policy of

His Majesty’s Government to acquiesce in the wish of the Chinese

Government, and payment by telegraphic transfer was agreed to. The third

instalment was also received in Calcutta. So the Chinese obtained their

second point also.

The third point which they tried to make in their policy of excluding

the Tibetans, was to get us to receive the indemnity direct from them

instead of from the Tibetans. They suggested that they should pay the

second instalment “by telegraphic transfer without the intervention of

the Tibetans.” But the Government of India recommended that deviation

from the procedure laid down in the Treaty should not be permitted, as

their proposal seemed to them a further indication of the Chinese desire

to exclude the Tibetans from relations with us.

His Majesty’s Government, however, considered that the formality of

payment through a Tibetan representative was “a comparatively immaterial

point,” and that if China was to make further pretensions we should not

be prejudiced by the concession.

Later on, however, as the Chinese had been obstructive in other matters,

and the second instalment had not yet been paid, both Mr. Morley and Sir

Edward Grey adopted the proposal of the Government of India that payment

to the Trade Agent through a Tibetan official at Gyantse should be

required, and arrangements recently conceded by His Majesty’s Government

for payment direct by the Chinese should be cancelled. But this was not

eventually insisted on, and payments were received by the Government of

India through the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank.

In regard to the third instalment, Mr. Chang proposed, on December 27,

1907, that he should hand it over in the form of a cheque to the Indian

Government. But the latter again stood out for receiving it from a

Tibetan. It was due only to a misunderstanding that payment in the

previous year had been accepted direct before orders on the subject had

arrived. As regards this proposal of the Chinese, Mr. Morley, though he

doubted the advantage of raising the point, saw no objection, as the

Tsarong Sha-pé was then in Calcutta, to payment being made by the

Tibetan Government through him to the Government of India.

But this method of payment Mr. Chang refused, and wrote to Sir Louis

Dane: “I regret to say that I am unable to meet your wishes that Tsarong

Sha-pé should himself tender payment. I have received very explicit

instructions from my Government on this subject, that the third

instalment of the indemnity (Rs. 8,33,333:5:4) is to be handed over in

the form of a cheque only by myself.” When the matter arose in

discussion at a meeting on January 10, Mr. Chang intimated that he based

his objection to the proposal on the fact that direct dealings between

us and the Tibetan authorities would be involved in it. It was no longer

possible, the Government of India thought, to doubt Chang’s firm

determination that Chinese sovereignty over Tibet, to the exclusion of

all local autonomy, should be indicated, and that direct communication

of all kinds between our officials and Tibetans should be prevented. It

appeared that Mr. Chang was being supported in this attitude by the

Chinese Government, and that it was doubtful if we could expect, without

further guarantee, loyal fulfilment of the Lhasa Convention as

interpreted by His Majesty’s Government. Chinese claims might exist

which contravened our distinct rights under the Lhasa Convention, as

recognized in the Anglo-Russian arrangement regarding Tibet, and

confirmed by the Peking Convention. The Indian Government greatly feared

the reproduction in an aggravated form of the position of affairs before

1903 if Chinese contentions were admitted.

Mr. Morley proposed to Sir Edward Grey that a representation should be

made to the Chinese Government of the serious consequences that would

ensue if payment of a third instalment of the indemnity was not made in

accordance with the Treaty; and the latter telegraphed to our Minister

at Peking to inform the Chinese Government that the transfer of

authority in the Chumbi Valley, much as it was desired by His Majesty’s

Government, would be unavoidably delayed unless payment was made in

accordance with the provision of the Lhasa Convention. The result was

that within a week a cheque, signed by Mr. Chang, was delivered by the

Tsarong Sha-pé, who paid a formal visit to Sir Louis Dane, accompanied

by two Tibetan officers.

The Chinese did not altogether gain their third point, but it is to be

noted that the cheque was signed by Mr. Chang, and that the Tibetan

official was not much more than a messenger carrying it over to the

Foreign Office.

All these proceedings have an air of triviality, but that in Asiatic

eyes they were of importance we may infer from the insistence of the

Chinese. If they really were trivial they might have handed the money to

the Tibetans, and saved themselves the worry with us.

* * * * *

Connected with this question of the payment of the indemnity was the

question of the evacuation of the Chumbi Valley, to effect which was the

most important object of Chinese policy. By the original Treaty we had

the right to occupy it till seventy-five annual instalments of the

indemnity had been paid, but by the declaration affixed to the

ratification of the Treaty we undertook that the British occupation of

the Chumbi Valley should cease after due payment of three annual

instalments, provided that the trade-marts, as stipulated in Article

II., should have been effectively opened for three years, as provided in

Article VI.; and that in the meantime the Tibetans should have

faithfully complied with the terms of the said Convention in all other

respects. On December 23, 1907, the Chinese Government addressed a note

to our Minister, stating that as the final instalment was ready for

payment on January 1, 1908, we should “withdraw on the above date the

British troops in temporary occupation of the Chumbi Valley.”

The Indian Government pointed out[49] that the Chinese ignored the

condition that evacuation was contingent on the Tibetans faithfully

complying with the Treaty in every respect. Instances tending to show

that this condition, and the condition that the trade-marts should be

effectively opened had not been fulfilled, had already been reported to

the Secretary of State. The fact that the Tibetan authorities had

recently failed to provide accommodation, except at extortionate rent,

for Indian traders supplied evidence of this. The Tibetans also imposed

unauthorized restrictions on trade by accustomed routes across the

northern frontier of Sikkim, and on traders going from the United

Provinces to marts in Western Tibet. The fact that, in spite of the

maintenance of the telegraph service being provided for in Article III.

of the Peking Convention, there had been serious recrudescence of

interruptions to it since Mr. Chang’s visit to Tibet, further

illustrated the attitude of the Tibetans. There had also been

obstruction to postal communication with Gartok. It could not, then, be

said that marts had been effectively opened since Mr. Chang’s visit,

whatever might have been the case before.

We should presumably have been entitled to claim, under the letter of

the Treaty, that, until the trade-marts had been effectively opened for

three years, and until the terms of the Convention had in the meantime

been complied with in all other respects, the valley should be retained

by us. It was not the desire of the Government of India to suggest rigid

enforcement of the Convention in this respect. They bore in mind,

however, the decision of His Majesty’s Government that if, after

commencement of the negotiations for the Trade Regulations, the attitude

of the Chinese and Tibetan representatives proved obstructive, the

question of warning the Chinese and Tibetan representatives that our

evacuation would depend on matters connected with trade-marts being

satisfactorily settled, should be considered.

It was shown by the history of the negotiations that, in regard to

important points at issue, the Chinese had been, and still were, most

obstructive. Sir John Jordan’s requests regarding points which he was

pressing had not yet been acceded to by the Wai-wu Pu; while, in a

letter to Sir Louis Dane, which had just been received, Mr. Chang

refused to yield other contested points, and forwarded further draft

regulations. The transfer of the administration of the valley should,

therefore, the Indian Government submitted, be deferred until some

guarantee that the marts would be effectively opened, and that they

would remain so, was afforded us by the new Trade Regulations. The chief

lever which we possessed for securing China’s real compliance with the

terms of the Lhasa Convention would be lost if the transfer was

permitted before the signature of the Regulations. The possibility, in

the event of non-fulfilment of conditions, of temporary postponement of

evacuation was apparently contemplated by the annexure to the

Anglo-Russian arrangement concerning Tibet. And the sincerity of our

intention to leave the valley would perhaps be sufficiently guaranteed

by the fact that discussion of the Trade Regulations was in progress,

and that their settlement was to be followed by evacuation.

Mr. Morley, in reviewing these contentions of the Indian Government,

said that it must be remembered that when the Government of India, in

July, 1907, raised the question of the failure of the Tibetans to fulfil

the conditions on which evacuation was to take place, it was decided by

His Majesty’s Government that it was “not necessary at present formally

to remind the Chinese and Tibetan Governments of such breaches of the

Lhasa Convention as have occurred.” Nor had the incidents since reported

by the Government of India been considered of sufficient importance to

justify a warning either to Tibet or China that there had been a failure

to comply with the conditions on which our evacuation of Chumbi

depended. The fact that we kept silence at the time that these incidents

occurred rendered it impossible, in Mr. Morley’s opinion, to revive them

now without exposing ourselves to a charge of bad faith.

There remained the argument that the evacuation of Chumbi would deprive

us of our only practical means of bringing pressure to bear on the

Chinese Government to expedite a satisfactory settlement of the

negotiations now in progress for the revision of the Tibetan Trade

Regulations. But though it might be inconvenient to be deprived of this

weapon, it appeared to Mr. Morley that, since by our own action we were

precluded, for the reasons stated above, from alleging that there had

been breaches of the Lhasa Convention of such a nature as to necessitate

our retention of Chumbi, it would be an unjustifiable extension of the

interpretation to be placed on the conditions laid down in that

Convention to maintain, as we should have in effect to do, that the

marts cannot be regarded as effectively open till the revised Trade

Regulations have been satisfactorily settled. The Lhasa Convention

clearly contemplates the marts being conducted under the old

Regulations, which in form were sufficiently comprehensive until the new

ones were introduced. It contained no stipulation, as it well might have

done, that a revision of the Regulations satisfactory to ourselves was

essential before the marts at Gyantse and elsewhere could be held to

have been effectively opened.

The possibility had also to be borne in mind, given the peculiarities of

Chinese diplomacy, that the continued occupation of Chumbi might have no

other effect than to increase the obstinacy of the Chinese Government in

the matter of the revision of the Regulations. In that case, as time

went on, our position would have become increasingly difficult, and if

our occupation was seriously protracted, as might not improbably have

been the result of delaying evacuation, the whole policy of His

Majesty’s Government in Asia would to a certain degree be stultified. A

comparison of the British and Chinese drafts of the proposed Regulations

showed that the points at real issue in the Regulations were not only

those of political status involved in the wording of the preamble, but

practical commercial questions of great complexity and inherent

difficulty, such as that, for instance, to which the Government of India

drew special attention, of the terms under which Indian tea was to be

admitted into Tibet. It could not seriously be contended that our

occupation was to continue till terms as to tea, satisfactory to the

Indian trade, had been accepted by Tibet and China. On the other hand,

no line could be logically and defensibly drawn between those matters in

the Trade Regulations which were, and those which were not, essential

points in the consideration of the question whether the trade-marts had

been effectively opened.

The conclusion at which Mr. Morley had arrived was that, on an impartial

interpretation of the Lhasa Convention, by the light of the events of

the last three years, there were not sufficient grounds to justify a

refusal to withdraw from Chumbi, and that, for reasons of policy and

expediency, it was desirable that our occupation should terminate at

once. Whatever difficulties might be in store for us from Chinese

obstructiveness, Mr. Morley was of opinion that our power of coping with

them would be diminished, not increased, if we placed ourselves in what

would be an essentially false position by declining to withdraw from the

Chumbi Valley, in accordance with our pledges and declared intentions.

Sir Edward Grey concurred in the views expressed by the Secretary of

State for India in regard to the evacuation of the Chumbi Valley; but he

considered that it would be well to point out to the Chinese Government

that His Majesty’s Government would expect, in return for evacuation,

that their wishes would be met in regard to the Trade Regulations then

under discussion at Calcutta, and that conciliatory instructions would

be sent to Chang with a view to the speedy conclusion of the

negotiations. He had accordingly sent to His Majesty’s Minister at

Peking a telegram in the above sense.

The final instalment of the indemnity having been paid, orders for the

evacuation of the Chumbi Valley were issued on January 27, 1908.

Thus we deliberately abandoned the sole guarantee for the fulfilment of

the Treaty. For years prior to the conclusion of the Lhasa Treaty we had

had practical experience that Chinese engagements regarding Tibet were

useless. Since the signature of the Lhasa Treaty we had three years’

evidence that the Chinese were trying to evade its execution. Its

provisions had not been fulfilled, and have not yet been carried out,

six years after it was signed. Extreme moderation had been shown;

concession after concession had been made. With a broad-mindedness in

which some might suspect indifference we had given way point after

point. In spite of all this, the Chinese were not observing the Treaty.

And yet we gave up the one and only material guarantee for its

fulfilment.

* * * * *

Now, at least, when we had withdrawn from Chumbi, and when we had been

complacent in so many respects, we might fairly have expected that a

change of tone would have come over Chinese policy. But, as we have on

many other occasions experienced, the Chinese are not always most

reasonable when we are most accommodating. And from the time we

evacuated the Chumbi Valley they commenced a great forward movement in

Tibet, which has resulted in the practical extinction of the Tibetan

Government, and necessitated our despatching a much larger number of

troops than we had in Chumbi to Gnatong, an inhospitable spot over

12,000 feet above sea-level, where they still have a 15,000-feet pass

between them and Chumbi, and can, in consequence, exert only one-quarter

of the moral effect they had in Chumbi itself.

But before this movement actually commenced, the Chinese had concluded

some Trade Regulations with us; again at the instance of the Chinese

Government, who seem to have a shrewd suspicion that these various

agreements bind us to a far greater extent than they confer benefit on

us. On April 7, 1907, the Chinese Government had notified our Minister

at Peking that if the Government of India would appoint a special

representative, Mr. Chang would proceed to Calcutta to negotiate the new

Trade Regulations with him. Sir John Jordan, in accordance with

instructions he had received, pointed out that under Article III. of the

Lhasa Convention it was the Tibetan Government who should appoint a

delegate to negotiate a revision of the Trade Regulations. We were,

however, willing not to insist on negotiating these Trade Regulations

exclusively with delegates of the Tibetan Government. But before the

negotiations began a Tibetan delegate should be appointed by the Tibetan

Government, with full power to negotiate and sign on behalf of the

Tibetan Government in such a manner as to bind that Government to the

settlement arrived at. This delegate should then be associated with Mr.

Chang and proceed together with him to Simla, to negotiate there with a

special representative of the Government of India.

The Chinese Government replied on May 21, suggesting that Tibet should

depute a Tibetan and India an Indian Government official to negotiate,

and that the actions of the Tibetan representative would be subject to

the approval of Mr. Chang, and those of the Indian representative to

that of the Viceroy of India. This was a thoroughly Chinese device to

put India on a par with Tibet and Mr. Chang on a par with the Viceroy.

What reply it met with is not on record, but on July 18 the Secretary of

State telegraphed to the Viceroy that he should address to the Tibetan

Government a friendly and uncontroversial letter, notifying them of the

negotiations to be held at Simla, and requesting that their delegate

might be supplied with proper credentials. In carrying out these

instructions the Viceroy telegraphed that he had also told the British

Trade Agent to give a copy of the communication to Mr. Chang, and that

the Foreign Secretary had written a friendly letter to Mr. Chang

announcing that he, Sir Louis Dane, had been appointed British delegate.

The Regulations were eventually signed at Calcutta on April 20, 1908, by

Mr. Wilton (who had taken Sir Louis Dane’s place), Mr. Chang, and the

Tsarong Sha-pé. The questions relating to extradition, the levy of

Customs duties, the export of tea from India into Tibet, and the

appointment of Chinese Trade Agents, with Consular privileges, were

reserved for future consideration.

By these new Regulations it was laid down that the old Regulations of

1893 should remain in force, in so far as they were not inconsistent

with the new Regulations. The boundaries of the Gyantse mart were fixed.

British subjects were allowed to lease land at the marts for the

building of houses and godowns; the administration at the marts was to

remain with the Tibetan officers, under the Chinese officers’

supervision and directions; the Trade Agents and Frontier Officers were

to hold personal intercourse and correspondence one with another, and

the Chinese authorities were not to prevent the British Trade Agents

holding personal intercourse and correspondence with the Tibetan

officers and people; and British subjects were to be at liberty to sell

their goods to whomsoever they pleased and to buy goods from whomsoever

they pleased. China engaged to afford effective police protection at the

marts and along the routes, and on due fulfilment of arrangements for

this, Great Britain undertook to withdraw the Trade Agents’ guards at

the marts and to station no troops in Tibet, so as to remove all cause

for suspicion and disturbance among the inhabitants. In a letter

accompanying the Regulations Mr. Wilton wrote to the Chinese and Tibetan

delegates that the strength of the armed guards at Gyantse and Yatung

would not exceed fifty and twenty-five respectively, and the

desirability of reducing these numbers even before their actual

withdrawal would be carefully considered from time to time, as occasion

might offer.

These Regulations would have been of value if they had been observed,

but even in 1910 the Indian Government reported that the Chinese did not

allow the Tibetans to deal directly with our Agents, and once they were

concluded the Chinese seem to have been more engrossed with the great

forward movement which, I have stated, they commenced as soon as we had

evacuated Chumbi, than in carrying out their part of the agreement.

The first indication of this significant change of Chinese policy was

the appointment of Chao Erh-feng, the Acting Viceroy of Szechuan, as

Resident in Tibet, in the spring of 1908. It was unusual, said Sir John

Jordan in reporting this, to select an official of his standing and

record for this position. The appointment was all the more significant

because his brother, Chao Erh-hsun, who succeeded Chang Chih-tung as

Viceroy at Hankow in the previous September, was suddenly transferred to

the less important post of Viceroy of Szechuan at the same time as Chao

Erh-feng was sent to Tibet.

A Memorial of the Board of Finance, approved by an Imperial Rescript of

March 19, which was published in the Chinese press on March 31, threw

some light on these appointments and the intentions of the Chinese

Government. Chao Erh-feng was apparently expected to perform in Tibet

functions similar to those of the Marquis Ito in Korea, and especially

to extend the control of the Chinese Government over the Tibetan

Administration. The appointment of Chao Erh-hsun as Viceroy was intended

to strengthen his brother’s hands and insure harmony of action.

The Memorial of the Board of Finance stated that Tibet acted as a

rampart for the province of Szechuan, and, in view of its extent and the

backward civilization of the natives, plans for such important measures

as the training of troops, the promotion of education, the development

of agriculture, mining and industries, the improvement of means of

communication, the increase in the number of officials, and the reform

of the Government, should be prepared without delay, so that the

administration of the country might gradually be put on a better basis.

Chao Erh-feng had been appointed to the post of Imperial Resident in

Tibet, and, as a mark of the importance of his office, exceptionally

high rank had been conferred upon him.

India and Tibet A history of the relations which have subsisted between the two countries from the time of Warren Hastings to 1910; with a particular account of the mission to Lhasa of 1904 · 第 30 / 32 章

And for the effect upon the Tibetans and upon men in general, upon our