THE SETTLEMENT
The political deadlock continued until within a week of the signing of
the treaty.
For a long time no responsible delegates were forthcoming. The Shapés,
who were weak men and tools of the fugitive Dalai Lama, protested that
any treaty they might make with us would result in their disgrace. If,
on the other hand, they made no treaty, and we were compelled to occupy
the Potala, or take some other step offensive to the hierarchy, their
ruin would be equally certain. Ruin, in fact, faced them in any case.
The highest officials in Tibet visited Colonel Younghusband, expressed
their eagerness to see differences amicably settled, and, when asked to
arrange the simplest matter, said they were afraid to take on themselves
the responsibility. And this was not merely astute evasiveness. It was
really a fact that there was no one in Lhasa who dared commit himself by
an action or assurance of any kind.
Yet there existed some kind of irresponsible disorganized machine of
administration which sometimes arrived at a decision about matters of
the moment. The National Assembly was sufficiently of one mind to depose
and imprison the Ta Lama, the ecclesiastical member of Council. His
disgrace was due to his failure to persuade us to return to Gyantse.
The National Assembly held long sessions daily, and after more than a
week of discussion they began to realize that there was at least one aim
that was common to them all--that the English should be induced to leave
Lhasa. They then appointed accredited delegates, whose decisions, they
said, would be entirely binding on the Dalai Lama, should he come back.
The Dalai Lama had left his seal with Te Rinpoche, the acting regent,
but with no authority to use it.
The terms of the treaty were disclosed to the Amban, who communicated
them to the Tsong-du. The Tsong-du submitted the draft of their reply to
the Amban before it was presented to Colonel Younghusband. The first
reply of the Assembly to our demands ought to be preserved as a historic
epitome of national character. The indemnity, they said, ought to be
paid by us, and not by them. We had invaded their territory, and spoiled
their monasteries and lands, and should bear the cost. The question of
trade marts they were obstinately opposed to; but, provided we carried
out the other terms of the treaty to their satisfaction, they would
consider the advisability of conceding us a market at Rinchengong, a
mile and a half beyond the present one at Yatung. They would not be
prepared, however, to make this concession unless we undertook to pay
for what we purchased on the spot, to respect their women, and to
refrain from looting. Road-making they could not allow, as the blasting
and upheaval of soil offended their gods and brought trouble on the
neighbourhood. The telegraph-wire was against their customs, and
objectionable on religious grounds. With regard to foreign relations,
they had never had any dealings with an outside race, and they intended
to preserve this policy so long as they were not compelled to seek
protection from another Power.
The tone of the reply indicates the attitude of the Tibetans. Obstinacy
could go no further. The document, however, was not forwarded officially
to the Commissioner, but returned to the Assembly by the Amban as too
impertinent for transmission. The Amban explained to Colonel
Younghusband that the Tibetans regarded the negociations in the light of
a huckster's bargain. They did not realize that we were in a position to
enforce terms, and that our demands were unconditional, but thought that
by opening negociations in an unconciliatory manner, and asking for more
than they expected, they might be able to effect a compromise and escape
the full exaction of the penalty.
The first concession on the part of the Tibetans was the release of the
two Lachung men, natives of Sikkim and British subjects, who had been
captured and beaten at Tashilunpo in July, 1903, while the Commission
was waiting at Khamba Jong. Their liberation was one of the terms of the
treaty. Colonel Younghusband made the release the occasion of an
impressive durbar, in which he addressed a solemn warning to the
Tibetans on the sanctity of the British subject. The imprisonment of the
two men from Sikkim, he said, was the most serious offence of which the
Tibetans had been guilty. It was largely on that account that the Indian
Government had decided to advance to Gyantse. The prisoners were brought
straight from the dungeon to the audience-hall. They had been
incarcerated in a dark underground cell for more than a year, and they
knew nothing of the arrival of the English in Lhasa until the morning
when Colonel Younghusband told them they were free by the command of the
King-Emperor. I shall never forget the scene--the bewilderment and
delight of the prisoners, their drawn, blanched features, and the sullen
acquiescence of the Tibetans, who learnt for the first time the meaning
of the old Roman boast, 'Civis Romanus sum.'
On August 20 Colonel Younghusband received through the Amban the second
reply to our demands. The tone of the delegates was still impossible,
though slightly modified and more reasonable. Several durbars followed,
but they did not advance the negociations. Instead of discussing matters
vital to the settlement, the Tibetan representatives would arrive with
all the formalities and ceremonial of durbar to beg us not to cut grass
in a particular field, or to request the return of the empty grain-bags
to the monasteries. The Amban said that he had met with nothing but
shuffling from the 'barbarians' during his term of office. They were
'dark and cunning adepts at prevarication, children in the conduct of
affairs.'
The counsellors, however, began to show signs of wavering. They were
evidently eager to come to terms, though they still hoped to reduce our
demands, and tried to persuade the Commissioner to agree to conditions
proposed by themselves.
Throughout this rather trying time our social relations with the
Tibetans were of a thoroughly friendly character. The Shapés and one or
two of the leading monks attended race-meetings and gymkanas, put their
money on the totalizator, and seemed to enjoy their day out. When their
ponies ran in the visitors' race, the members of Council temporarily
forgot their stiffness, waddled to the rails to see the finish, and were
genuinely excited. They were entertained at lunch and tea by Colonel
Younghusband, and were invited to a Tibetan theatrical performance given
in the courtyard of the Lhalu house, which became the headquarters of
the mission. On these occasions they were genial and friendly, and
appreciated our hospitality.
The humbler folk apparently bore us no vindictiveness, and showed no
signs of resenting our presence in the city. Merchants and storekeepers
profited by the exaggerated prices we paid for everything we bought.
Trade in Lhasa was never brisker. The poor were never so liberally
treated. One day a merry crowd of them were collected on the plain
outside the city, and largess was distributed to more than 11,000. Every
babe in arms within a day's march of Lhasa was brought to the spot, and
received its dole of a tanka (5d.).
I think the Tibetans were genuinely impressed with our humanity during
this time, and when, on the eve of our departure, the benign and
venerable Te Rinpoche held his hands over General Macdonald in
benediction, and solemnly blessed him for his clemency and moderation in
sparing the monasteries and people, no one doubted his thankfulness was
sincere. The golden Buddha he presented to the General was the highest
pledge of esteem a Buddhist priest could bestow.
When, on September 1, the Tibetans, after nearly a month's palaver, had
accepted only two of the terms of the treaty,[22] Colonel Younghusband
decided that the time had come for a guarded ultimatum. He told the
delegates that, if the terms were not accepted in full within a week, he
would consult General Macdonald as to what measures it would be
necessary to take to enforce compliance. Their submission was complete,
and immediate.
[22] The liberation of the Lachung men and the destruction of the
Yatung and Gob-sorg barriers.
Colonel Younghusband had achieved a diplomatic triumph of the highest
order. If the ultimatum had been given three weeks, or even a fortnight,
earlier, I believe the Tibetans would have resisted. When we reached
Lhasa on August 3, the Nepalese Resident said that 10,000 armed monks
had been ready to oppose us if we had decided to quarter ourselves
inside the city, and they had only dispersed when the Shapés who rode
out to meet us at Toilung returned with assurances that we were going to
camp outside. At one time it seemed impossible to make any progress with
negociations without further recourse to arms. But patience and
diplomacy conquered. We had shown the Tibetans we could reach Lhasa and
yet respect their religion, and left an impression that our strength was
tempered with humanity.
The treaty was signed in the Potala on August 7, in the Dalai Lama's
throne-room. The Tibetan signatories were the acting regent, who affixed
the seal of the Dalai Lama; the four Shapés; the Abbots of the three
great monasteries, Depung, Sera, and Gaden; and a representative of the
National Assembly. The Amban was not empowered to sign, as he awaited
'formal sanction' from Peking. Lest the treaty should be afterwards
disavowed through a revolution in Government, the signatories included
representatives of every organ of administration in Lhasa.
On the afternoon of the 7th our troops lined the causeway on the west
front of the Potala. Towards the summit the rough and broken road became
an ascent of slippery steps, where one had to walk crabwise to prevent
falling, and plant one's feet on the crevices of the age-worn
flagstones, where grass and dock-leaves gave one a securer foothold.
Then through the gateway and along a maze of slippery passages, dark as
Tartarus, but illumined dimly by flickering butter lamps held by aged
monks, impassive and inscrutable. In the audience-chamber Colonel
Younghusband, General Macdonald, and the Chinese Amban sat beneath the
throne of the Dalai Lama. On either side of them were the British
Political Officer and Tibetan signatories. In another corner were the
Tongsa Penlop of Bhutan and his lusty big-boned men, and the dapper
little Nepalese Resident, wreathed in smiles. British officers sat round
forming a circle. Behind them stood groups of Tommies, Sikhs, Gurkhas,
and Pathans. In the centre the treaty, a voluminous scroll, was laid on
a table, the cloth of which was a Union Jack.
When the terms had been read in Tibetan, the signatories stepped forward
and attached their seals to the three parallel columns written in
English, Tibetan, and Chinese. They showed no trace of sullenness and
displeasure. The regent smiled as he added his name.
After the signing Colonel Younghusband addressed the Tibetans:
'The convention has been signed. We are now at peace, and the
misunderstandings of the past are over. The bases have been laid for
mutual good relations in the future.
'In the convention the British Government have been careful to avoid
interfering in the smallest degree with your religion. They have annexed
no part of your territory, have made no attempt to interfere in your
internal affairs, and have fully recognised the continued suzerainty of
the Chinese Government. They have merely sought to insure--
'1. That you shall abide by the treaty made by the Amban in 1890.
'2. That trade relations between India and Tibet, which are no less
advantageous to you than to us, should be established as they have been
with every other part of the Chinese Empire, and with every other
country in the world except Tibet.
'3. That British representatives should be treated with respect in
future.
'4. That you should not depart from your traditional policy in regard to
political relations with other countries.
'The treaty which has now been made I promise you on behalf of the
British Government we will rigidly observe, but I also warn you that we
will as rigidly enforce it. Any infringement of it will be severely
punished in the end, and any obstruction of trade, any disrespect or
injury to British subjects, will be noticed and reparation exacted.
'We treat you well when you come to India. We do not take a single rupee
in Customs duties from your merchants. We allow any of you to travel and
reside wherever you will in India. We preserve the ancient buildings of
the Buddhist faith, and we expect that when we come to Tibet we shall be
treated with no less consideration and respect than we show you in
India.
'You have found us bad enemies when you have not observed your treaty
obligations and shown disrespect to the British Raj. You will find us
equally good friends if you keep the treaty and show us civility.
'I hope that the peace which has at this moment been established between
us will last for ever, and that we may never again be forced to treat
you as enemies.
'As the first token of peace I will ask General Macdonald to release all
prisoners of war. I expect that you on your part will set at liberty all
those who have been imprisoned on account of dealings with us.'
At the conclusion of the speech, which was interpreted to the Tibetans
sentence by sentence, and again in Chinese, the Shapés expressed their
intention to observe the treaty faithfully.[23]
[23] The following is a draft of the terms as communicated by _The
Times_ Correspondent at Peking. The terms have not yet been
disclosed in their final form, but I understand that Dr.
Morrison's summary contains the gist of them:
'1. Tibetans to re-erect boundary-stones at the Tibet frontier.
'2. Tibetans to establish marts at Gyangtse, Yatung, Gartok, and
facilitate trade with India.
'3. Tibet to appoint a responsible official to confer with the
British officials regarding the alteration of any objectionable
features of the treaty of 1893.
'4. No further Customs duties to be levied upon merchandise after
the tariff shall have been agreed upon by Great Britain and the
Tibetans.
'5. No Customs stations to be established on the route between the
Indian frontier and the three marts mentioned above, where
officials shall be appointed to facilitate diplomatic and
commercial intercourse.
'6. Tibet to pay an indemnity of £500,000 in three annual
instalments, the first to be paid on January 1, 1906.
'7. British troops to occupy the Chumbi Valley for three years, or
until such time as the trading posts are satisfactorily
established and the indemnity liquidated in full.
'8. All forts between the Indian frontier on routes traversed by
merchants from the interior of Tibet to be demolished.
'9. Without the consent of Great Britain no Tibetan territory
shall be sold, leased, or mortgaged to any foreign Power
whatsoever; no foreign Power whatsoever shall be permitted to
concern itself with the administration of the government of Tibet,
or any other affairs therewith connected; no foreign Power shall
be permitted to send either official or non-official persons to
Tibet--no matter in what pursuit they may be engaged--to assist in
the conduct of Tibetan affairs; no foreign Power shall be
permitted to construct roads or railways or erect telegraphs or
open mines anywhere in Tibet.
'In the event of Great Britain's consenting to another Power
constructing roads or railways, opening mines, or erecting
telegraphs, Great Britain will make a full examination on her own
account for carrying out the arrangements proposed. No real
property or land containing minerals or precious metals in Tibet
shall be mortgaged, exchanged, leased, or sold to any foreign
Power.
'10. Of the two versions of the treaty, the English text to be
regarded as operative.'
The ninth clause, which precludes Russian interference and
consequent absorption, is of course the most vital article of the
treaty.
The next day in durbar a scene was enacted which reminded one of a play
before the curtain falls, when the characters are called on the stage
and apprised of their changed fortunes, and everything ends happily.
Among the mutual pledges and concessions and evidences of goodwill that
followed we secured the release of the political captives who had been
imprisoned on account of assistance rendered British subjects. An old
man and his son were brought into the hall looking utterly bowed and
broken. The old man's chains had been removed from his limbs that
morning for the first time in twenty years, and he came in blinking at
the unaccustomed light like a blind man miraculously restored to sight.
He had been the steward of the Phalla estate near Dongste; his offence
was hospitality shown to Sarat Chandra Das in 1884. An old monk of Sera
was released next. He was so weak that he had to be supported into the
room. His offence was that he had been the teacher of Kawa Guchi, the
Japanese traveller who visited Lhasa in the disguise of a Chinese
pilgrim. We who looked on these sad relics of humanity felt that their
restitution to liberty was in itself sufficient to justify our advance
to Lhasa.
On August 14 the Amban posted in the streets of Lhasa a proclamation
that the Dalai Lama was deposed by the authority of the Chinese Emperor,
owing to the desertion of his trust at a national crisis. Temporal power
was vested in the hands of the National Assembly and the regent, while
the spiritual power was transferred to Panchen Rinpoche, the Grand Lama
of Tashilunpo, who is venerated by Buddhists as the incarnation of
Amitabha, and held as sacred as the Dalai Lama himself. The Tashe Lama,
as he is called in Europe, has always been more accessible than the
Dalai Lama. It was to the Tashe Lama that Warren Hastings despatched the
missions of Bogle and Turner, and the intimate friendship that grew up
between George Bogle and the reigning incarnation is perhaps the only
instance of such a tie existing between an Englishman and a Tibetan. The
officials of the Tsang province, where the Tashe Lama resides, are not
so bigoted as the Lhasa oligarchy. It was a minister of the Tashe Lama
who invited Sarat Chandra Das to Shigatze, learnt the Roman characters
from him, and sat for hours listening to his talk about languages and
scientific developments. The exile of this man, and the execution of the
Abbot of Dongste, who was drowned in the Tsangpo, for hospitality shown
to the Bengali explorer, are the most recent marks of the difference in
attitude between the Lhasans and the people of Tsang.
The present incarnation has not shown himself bitterly anti-foreign.
During the operations in Tibet he remained as neutral and inactive as
safety permitted, and it is not impossible that the hope of Mr. Ular may
be realized, and an Anglophile Buddhist Pope established at Shigatze.
Herein lies a possible simplification of the Tibetan problem, which has
already lost some of its complexity by the flight of the Dalai Lama to
Urga.
In estimating the practical results of the Tibet Expedition, we should
not attach too much importance to the exact observance of the terms of
the treaty. Trade marts and roads, and telegraph-wires, and open
communications are important issues, but they were never our main
objective. What was really necessary was to make the Tibetans understand
that they could not afford to trifle with us. The existence of a
truculent race on our borders who imagined that they were beyond the
reach of our displeasure was a source of great political danger. We
went to Tibet to revolutionize the whole policy of the Lhasa oligarchy
towards the Indian Government.
The practical results of the mission are these: The removal of a ruler
who threatened our security and prestige on the North-East frontier by
overtures to a foreign Power; the demonstration to the Tibetans that
this Power is unable to support them in their policy of defiance to
Great Britain, and that their capital is not inaccessible to British
troops.
We have been to Lhasa once, and if necessary we can go there again. The
knowledge of this is the most effectual leverage we could have in
removing future obstruction. In dealing with people like the Tibetans,
the only sure basis of respect is fear. They have flouted us for nearly
twenty years because they have not believed in our power to punish their
defiance. Out of this contempt grew the Russian menace, to remove which
was the real object of the Tibet Expedition. Have we removed it? Our
verdict on the success or failure of Lord Curzon's Tibetan policy
should, I think, depend on the answer to this question.
There can be no doubt that the despatch of British troops to Lhasa has
shown the Tibetans that Russia is a broken reed, her agents utterly
unreliable, and her friendship nothing but a hollow pretence. The
British expedition has not only frustrated her designs in Tibet: it has
made clear to the whole of Central Asia the insincerity of her pose as
the Protector of the Buddhist Church.
But the Tibetans are not an impressionable people. Their conduct after
the campaign of 1888 shows us that they forget easily. To make the
results of the recent expedition permanent, Lord Curzon's original
policy should be carried out in full, and a Resident with troops left in
Lhasa. It will be objected that this forward policy is too fraught with
possibilities of political trouble, and too costly to be worth the end
in view. But half-measures are generally more expensive and more
dangerous in the long-run than a bold policy consistently carried out.
We have left a trade agent at Gyantse with an escort of fifty men, as
well as four or five companies at Chumbi and Phari Jong, at distances of
100 and 130 miles. But no vigilance at Gyantse can keep the Indian
Government informed of Russian or Chinese intrigue in Lhasa. Lhasa is
Tibet, and there alone can we watch the ever-shifting pantomime of
Tibetan politics and the manoeuvres of foreign Powers. If we are not
to lose the ground we have gained, the foreign relations of Tibet must
stand under British surveillance.
But putting aside the question of vigilance, our prestige requires that
there should be a British Resident in Lhasa. That we have left an
officer at Gyantse, and none at Lhasa, will be interpreted by the
Tibetans as a sign of weakness.
Then, again, diplomatic relations with Tibet can only continue a farce
while we are ignorant of the political situation in Lhasa. Influences in
the capital grow and decay with remarkable rapidity. The Lamas are
adepts in intrigue. When we left Lhasa, the best-informed of our
political officers could not hazard a guess as to what party would be in
power in a month's time, whether the Dalai Lama would come back, or in
what manner his deposition would affect our future relations with the
country. We only knew that our departure from Lhasa was likely to be the
signal for a conflict of political factions that would involve a state
of confusion. The Dalai Lama still commanded the loyalty of a large body
of monks. Sera Monastery was known to support him, while Gaden, though
it contained a party who favoured the deposed Shata Shapé, numbered many
adherents to his cause. The only political figure who had no following
or influence of any kind was the unfortunate Amban.[24] Whatever party
gains the upper hand, the position of the Chinese Amban is not enviable.
[24] The Amban or Chinese Resident in Lhasa is in the same position
as a British Resident in the Court of a protected chief in India.
Of late years, however, the Amban's authority has been little
more than nominal.
At the moment of writing China has not signed the treaty; she may do so
yet, but her signature is not of vital importance. The Tibetans will
decide for themselves whether it is safe to provoke our hostility. If
they decide to defy us, then of course trouble may arise from their
refusing to recognise the treaty of 1904 on the pretext that it was not
signed by the Amban.
It will be remembered that after the campaign of 1888 the convention we
drew up in Calcutta was signed by China, and afterwards repudiated by
Tibet. For many years the Tibetans have ignored China's suzerainty, and
refused to be bound by a convention drawn up by her in their behalf; but
now the plea of suzerainty is convenient, they may use it as a pretext
to escape their new obligations.
It is even possible that the Amban advised the Tibetan delegates in
Lhasa to agree to any terms we asked, if they wanted to be rid of us, as
any treaty we might make with them would be invalid without the
acquiescence of China. Thus the 'vicious circle' revolves, and a more
admirable political device from the Chino-Tibetan point of view cannot
be conceived.
But the permanence of the new conditions in Tibet does not depend on
China. If the Tibetans think they are still able to flout us, they will
do so, and one pretext will serve as well as another. But if they have
learnt that our displeasure is dangerous they will take care not to
provoke it again.
The success or failure of the recent expedition depends on the
impression we have left on the Tibetans. If that impression is to be
lasting, we must see that our interests are well guarded in Lhasa, or in
a few months we may lose the ground we gained, with what cost and danger
to ourselves only those who took part in the expedition can understand.
THE END
BILLING AND SONS LIMITED, GUILDFORD.
Transcriber's Note:
The following modifications have been made to the text.
Contents, Chapter XII: 'Kalimpang' replaced with 'Kalimpong'.
British Bhutan--Kalimpong--'The Bhutia tat'
Page 46: The comma after 'services' replaced with a period.
for his good services. When I asked him how he stood with
the Tibetan Government
Page 248: 'the of' replaced with 'of the'.
mystery of the East.
Page 277: 'a' replaced with 'as'.
As early as 1641
End of Project Gutenberg's The Unveiling of Lhasa, by Edmund Candler