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[Illustration: 1. LORD MINTO, VICEROY OF INDIA. _Frontispiece_]
TRANS-HIMALAYA
DISCOVERIES AND ADVENTURES IN TIBET
BY
SVEN HEDIN
WITH 388 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, WATER-COLOUR
SKETCHES, AND DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR
AND 10 MAPS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1909
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1909,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
* * * * *
Set up and electrotyped. Published December, 1909.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
TO
HIS EXCELLENCY
THE EARL OF MINTO
VICEROY OF INDIA
WITH GRATITUDE AND ADMIRATION
FROM THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
In the first place I desire to pay homage to the memory of my patron,
King Oskar of Sweden, by a few words of gratitude. The late King showed
as warm and intelligent an interest in my plan for a new expedition as
he had on former occasions, and assisted in the fulfilment of my project
with much increased liberality.
I estimated the cost of the journey at 80,000 kronor (about £4400), and
this sum was subscribed within a week by my old friend Emmanuel Nobel,
and my patrons, Frederik Löwenadler, Oscar Ekman, Robert Dickson,
William Olsson, and Henry Ruffer, banker in London. I cannot adequately
express my thanks to these gentlemen. In consequence of the political
difficulties I encountered in India, which forced me to make wide
detours, the expenses were increased by about 50,000 kronor (£2800), but
this sum I was able to draw from my own resources.
As on former occasions, I have this time also to thank Dr. Nils Ekholm
for his great kindness in working out the absolute heights. The three
lithographic maps have been compiled from my original sheets with
painstaking care by Lieutenant C. J. Otto Kjellström, who devoted all
his furlough to this troublesome work. The astronomical points, nearly
one hundred, have been calculated by the Assistant Roth of the Stockholm
Observatory; a few points, which appeared doubtful, were omitted in
drawing the route on the map, which is based on points previously
determined. The map illustrating my narrative in the _Geographical
Journal_, April 1909, I drew roughly from memory without consulting the
original sheets, for I had no time to spare; the errors which naturally
crept in have been corrected on the new maps, but I wish to state here
the cause of the discrepancy. The final maps, which I hope to publish in
a voluminous scientific work, will be distinguished by still greater
accuracy and detail.
I claim not the slightest artistic merit for my drawings, and my
water-colours are extremely defective both in drawing and colouring. One
of the pictures, the lama opening the door of the mausoleum, I left
unfinished in my haste; it has been thrown in with the others, with the
wall-paintings and shading incomplete. To criticize these slight
attempts as works of art would be like wasting gunpowder on dead crows.
For the sake of variety several illustrations have been drawn by the
British artists De Haenen and T. Macfarlane, but it must not be assumed
that these are fanciful productions. Every one of them is based on
outline drawings by myself, a number of photographs, and a full
description of the scene. De Haenen's illustrations appeared in the
London _Graphic_, and were ordered when I was still in India.
Macfarlane's drawings were executed this summer, and I was able to
inspect his designs and approve of them before they were worked up.
As to the text, I have endeavoured to depict the events of the journey
as far as the limited space permitted, but I have also imprudently
allowed myself to touch on subjects with which I am not at all
familiar--I allude in particular to Lamaism. It has been unfortunate
that I had to write the whole book in 107 days, during which many hours
were taken up with work connected with the maps and illustrations and by
an extensive correspondence with foreign publishers, especially Albert
Brockhaus of Leipzig, who never wearied in giving me excellent advice.
The whole work has been hurried, and the book from beginning to end is
like a vessel which ventures out into the ocean of the world's tumult
and of criticism with many leaks and cracks.
My thanks are also due to my father, who made a clean copy from my
illegible manuscript; and to my mother, who has saved me from many
mistakes. Dr. Carl Forstrand has revised both the manuscript and the
proof-sheets, and has compiled the Swedish index.
* * * * *
The seven and thirty Asiatics who followed me faithfully through Tibet,
and contributed in no small degree to the successful issue and results
of the expedition, have had the honour of receiving from His Majesty the
King of Sweden gold and silver medals bearing the portrait of the King,
a crown, and an inscription. I humbly beg His Majesty to accept my
warmest and most sincere thanks for his great generosity.
The book is dedicated to Lord Minto, as a slight testimony of my
gratitude for all his kindness and hospitality. It had been Lord Minto's
intention to further my plans as Lord Curzon would have done if he had
still been Viceroy of India, but political considerations prevented him.
When, however, I was actually in Tibet, the Viceroy was free to use his
influence with the Tashi Lama, and the consequence was that many doors
in the forbidden land, formerly tightly closed, were opened to me.
Dear reminiscences of India hovered about my lonesome years in dreary
Tibet like the pleasant rustling of palm leaves. It will suffice to
mention men like Lord Kitchener, in whose house I spent a week never to
be forgotten; Colonel Dunlop Smith, who took charge of my notes and
maps and sent them home, and also forwarded a whole caravan of
necessaries to Gartok; Younghusband, Patterson, Ryder, Rawling, and many
others. And, lastly, Colonel Longe, Surveyor-General, and Colonel
Burrard, of the Survey of India, who, with the greatest kindness, had my
900 map-sheets of Tibet photographed, and stored the negatives among
their records in case the originals should be lost, and who, after I had
placed my 200 map-sheets of Persia at the disposal of the Indian
Government, had them worked up in the North-Western Frontier Drawing
Office and combined into a fine map of eleven printed sheets--a map
which is to be treated as "confidential" until my scientific works have
appeared.
It is with the greatest pleasure that I avail myself of this opportunity
of expressing my sincere gratitude for all the innumerable tokens of
sympathy and appreciation which I received in all parts of the United
Kingdom, and for all the honours conferred on me by Societies, and the
warm welcome I met with from the audiences I had the pleasure of
addressing. I shall always cherish a proud and happy remembrance of the
two months which it was my good-fortune to spend in the British Isles;
and the kindness then showered upon me was the more delightful because
it was extended also to two of my sisters, who accompanied me.
Were I to mention all the ladies and gentlemen to whom I am especially
indebted, I could fill several pages. But I cannot let this book go
forth through the English-speaking world without expressing my sincere
gratitude to Lord Curzon for the great and encouraging interest he has
always taken in myself and my journeys; to Lord Morley for the brilliant
speech he delivered after my first lecture--the most graceful compliment
ever paid me, as well as for many other marks of kindness and sympathy
shown to me by the Secretary of State for India; to the Swedish
Minister in London, Count Herman Wrangel, for all the valuable services
he rendered me during and after my journey; to Major Leonard Darwin and
the Council and Members of the Royal Geographical Society, to whom I was
delighted to return, not as a strange guest, but as an old friend; to
the famous and illustrious Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, where I
was overwhelmed with exceptional honours and boundless hospitality; to
the Royal Scottish Geographical Society, where twice before I had
received a warm reception. Well, when I think of those charming days in
England and Scotland I am inclined to dwell too long upon them, and I
must hasten to a conclusion. But there is one more name, which I have
left to the last, because it has been very dear to me for many years,
that of Dr. J. Scott Keltie. The general public will never know what it
means to be the Secretary and mainspring of the Royal Geographical
Society, to work year after year in that important office in Savile Row,
to receive explorers from all corners of the world and satisfy all their
demands, without ever losing patience or ever hearing a word of thanks.
I can conceive from my own experience how much trouble I have caused Dr.
Keltie, but yet he has always met me with the same amiability and has
always been a constant friend, whether I have been at home or away for
years on long journeys.
Dr. M. A. Stein started and returned from his splendid journey in
Central Asia at the same times as myself. We crossed different parts of
the old continent, but we have several interests in common, and I am
glad to congratulate Dr. Stein most heartily on his important
discoveries and the brilliant results he has brought back.
It is my intention to collect in a third volume all the material for
which there is no room in _Trans-Himalaya_. For instance, I have been
obliged to omit a description of the march northwards from the source
of the Indus and of the journey over the Trans-Himalaya to Gartok, as
well as of the road from Gartok to Ladak, and the very interesting route
from the Nganglaring-tso to Simla. I have also had to postpone the
description of several monasteries to a later opportunity. In this
future book I will also record my recollections of beautiful, charming
Japan, where I gained so many friends, and of Korea, Manchuria, and Port
Arthur. The manuscript of this later volume is already finished, and I
long for the opportunity of publicly thanking the Japanese, as well as
our representative in Japan and China, the Minister Extraordinary,
Wallenberg, for all the delightful hospitality and all the honours
showered down on me in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Lastly, the appetite of young people for adventures will be satisfied in
an especial work.
I am glad to be able to announce at the eleventh hour that the Madrassi
Manuel, who in Chapter IX. was reported lost, has at length been found
again.
In conclusion, I must say a few words of thanks to my publishers, and
first of all to Herre K. O. Bonnier of Stockholm, for his valuable
co-operation and the elegant form in which he has produced my book, and
then to the firm of F. A. Brockhaus, Leipzig; the "Elsevier" Uitgevers
Maatschappij, Amsterdam; Hachette & C^ie, Paris; "Kansa," Suomalainen
Kustannus-O-Y, Helsingfors; the Robert Lampel Buchhandlung (F. Wodianer
& Söhne) Act.-Ges., Budapest; Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London and New
York; J. Otto, Prague; Fratelli Treves, Milan.
SVEN HEDIN.
STOCKHOLM, _September_, 1909.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
SIMLA 1
CHAPTER II
DEPARTURE FROM SRINAGAR 21
CHAPTER III
THE ROAD TO LEH 35
CHAPTER IV
THE LAST PREPARATIONS 46
CHAPTER V
THE START FOR TIBET 60
CHAPTER VI
TO THE EDGE OF THE TIBETAN TABLELAND 72
CHAPTER VII
OVER THE CREST OF THE KARAKORUM 84
CHAPTER VIII
TO LAKE LIGHTEN 97
CHAPTER IX
ON THE LAKE IN A STORM 106
CHAPTER X
DEATH IN THE JAWS OF WOLVES--OR SHIPWRECK 119
CHAPTER XI
GREAT LOSSES 132
CHAPTER XII
IN UNKNOWN COUNTRY 146
CHAPTER XIII
UNFORTUNATE DAYS 158
CHAPTER XIV
IN THE LAND OF THE WILD YAK 171
CHAPTER XV
THE FIRST NOMADS 181
CHAPTER XVI
OUR FORTUNES ON THE WAY TO THE BOGTSANG-TSANGPO 196
CHAPTER XVII
CHRISTMAS IN THE WILDS 211
CHAPTER XVIII
TEN DAYS ON THE ICE OF NGANGTSE-TSO 223
CHAPTER XIX
DRIVEN BACK 236
CHAPTER XX
ONWARDS THROUGH THE FORBIDDEN LAND 249
CHAPTER XXI
OVER THE TRANS-HIMALAYA 264
CHAPTER XXII
TO THE BANK OF THE BRAHMAPUTRA 276
CHAPTER XXIII
DOWN THE TSANGPO BY BOAT--ENTRY INTO SHIGATSE 288
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NEW YEAR FESTIVAL 301
CHAPTER XXV
THE TASHI LAMA 317
CHAPTER XXVI
THE GRAVES OF THE PONTIFFS 329
CHAPTER XXVII
POPULAR AMUSEMENTS OF THE TIBETANS 340
CHAPTER XXVIII
MONKS AND PILGRIMS 347
CHAPTER XXIX
WALKS IN TASHI-LUNPO--THE DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD 361
CHAPTER XXX
OUR LIFE IN SHIGATSE 374
CHAPTER XXXI
POLITICAL COMPLICATIONS 388
CHAPTER XXXII
TARTING-GOMPA AND TASHI-GEMBE 402
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE RAGA-TSANGPO AND THE MY-CHU 415
CHAPTER XXXIV
TO LINGA-GOMPA 427
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
1. Lord Minto, Viceroy of India _Frontispiece_
2. Colonel Sir Francis Younghusband, Commander of the English
Expedition to Tibet, Resident in Kashmir 10
3. Colonel J. R. Dunlop Smith, Private Secretary to the Viceroy 10
4. Viceregal Lodge in Simla 12
5. Lady Minto and the Author on the Terrace of the Viceregal
Lodge 14
6. Herbert, Viscount Kitchener of Khartum, Late Commander-in-Chief
of the Indian Army 18
7. The Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir 22
8. Palace of H.H. the Maharaja of Kashmir in Srinagar 26
9. The Jhelam in Srinagar 28
10. The Start from Ganderbal 30
11. My Escort 30
12. My Three Puppies 32
13. Robert, the Eurasian 32
14. Ganpat Sing, the Rajput 32
15. Manuel, the Cook 32
16. In Front of Nedou's Hotel in Srinagar 34
17. Some of our Mules 34
18. An Amateur Photographer photographed 34
19. The Road to Baltal 38
20. Kargil 40
21. Chhorten in Lamayuru 40
22. Church Music in Lamayuru 42
23. Portrait of a Lama 42
24. Portrait of a Lama 42
25. The Sumto Valley 44
26. Bridge of Alchi 44
27. Girl in Niemo 44
28, 29. Palace of the Kings of Ladak in Leh 44
30. Muhamed Isa 46
31. Guffaru 52
32. The Raja of Stok 56
33. Portal of the Palace in Leh 56
34. View over the Indus Valley from the Roof of the Palace in Leh 56
35. Lama of High Rank in Leh 56
36. Monuments to Stoliczka and Dalgleish, Leh 58
37. Religious Objects from Sanskar 60
38. Images of Gods. A miniature Chhorten on the right. Holy
Books, Temple Vessels. On either side of the small
Altar-table wooden blocks with which the Holy Books are
printed 60
39. Tikze-gompa, Monastery in Ladak 62
40. Masked Lamas in the Court of Ceremonies in Hemis-gompa
(Ladak) 64
41. Group of Masked Lamas in Hemis-gompa 64
42. From Singrul, looking towards the Pass, Chang-la 66
43. View from Sultak, August 17, 1906 66
44. Drugub 66
45. My old friend Hiraman from Ladak 70
46. Chiefs of Tankse and Pobrang; Muhamed Isa, the Caravan
Leader, in the Background 70
47. The Way to the Marsimik-la 74
48. Spanglung 74
49. Spanglung 78
50. Camp near Pamzal 78
51. The Chang-chenmo and the Way to Gogra 78
52. Muhamed Isa in the River Chang-chenmo near Pamzal 80
53. Rabsang, Adul, Tsering, and Muhamed Isa 82
54. Our Horses at the Karakorum 82
55. In the Snow, N.E. of Chang-lung-yogma 86
56. My Tent 86
57. Lake Lighten 86
58a, 58b. Pantholops Antelope 90
59, 60. Ovis Ammon 90
61. A Gully at Camp 8 (Aksai-chin) 94
62. The hired Ladakis and the Provision Sacks in North-West
Chang-tang 98
63. Namgyal with a Sack of Yak-dung 98
64. Shelter of Provision Sacks 100
65. Camp in a narrow Valley, Camp 41 100
66. Robert, Muhamed Isa, and two Servants by a Fire 100
67. The large piebald Yarkand Horse 104
68, 69. The Slain Yaks; Tundup Sonam, the Hunter on the left
in 68 104
70. Rehim Ali, one of my Ladakis on the First Crossing of
Tibet 108
71. Starting on a Voyage 110
72. In Peril on Lake Lighten 112
73. The Author and Rehim Ali pull the Boat out of the Waves up
on to the Shore 116
74. Camp at the Yeshil-kul 118
75. The Pul-tso, looking East 118
76. Horses and Mules in open Country 118
77. Death in the Jaws of Wolves--or Shipwreck 122
78. A Dangerous Situation on the Yeshil-kul. In Moonshine 126
79. At Deasy's Camp 132
80. Afternoon Tea in the open Air 132
81. Melting Snow for Drinking-Water 132
82. Preparations for Dinner at Camp 41 152
83. The Author, Robert, and Rehim Ali attacked by a wounded
Yak 170
84. Rehim Ali falls to the Ground and thus rescues us from the
furious Yak 174
85, 86. The First Tibetans 180
87. Smoking Camp-fires in the Heart of Chang-tang 186
88. Our Yaks, bought from the First Tibetans 186
89. "Where are you going?" they asked me 200
90. Near the Dangra-yum-tso 216
91, 92, 93. On the Ngangtse-tso 226
94. In a Snowstorm on the Ice of the Ngangtse-tso 234
95. Hlaje Tsering and his Travelling Companion, a Lama, at my
Tent on the Ngangtse-tso 242
96. Servants of Hlaje Tsering 252
97. Messenger with Letters from Home, and his Travelling
Companion 252
98. Hlaje Tsering setting out 252
99. Three Tibetans saluting 264
100. Pass of La-rock. _Mani_ Heap with Fluttering
Prayer-Streamers 274
101. On the Bank of the Tsangpo (Brahmaputra) 274
102. The Tsangpo with Floating Ice 282
103. The Valley of the Tsangpo above Shigatse 282
104. House in the Village of Rungma 286
105. Garden of the Tashi Lama in the Village of Tanak 286
106. Ferry-Boats 290
107. Pilgrims on the Way to Tashi-lunpo 290
108. Court of Religious Ceremonies in Tashi-lunpo 296
109. Religious Decorations on the Roofs of Tashi-lunpo to
exorcise Evil Spirits 296
110. The Upper Balcony of the Court of Ceremonies in
Tashi-lunpo 300
111, 112. The _Profanum Vulgus_ at the New Year Festival in
Shigatse 304
113. Lama with Shell-Trumpet 306
114. Lama with Flute used in Religious Services 306
115, 116, 117. Lamas in Dancing Masks 308
118. View of Tashi-lunpo 310
119. Street in Tashi-lunpo, with Lamas 312
120. Street in Tashi-lunpo 314
121. The Labrang, the Palace of the Tashi Lama 316
122. Interior of the Palace of the Tashi Lama 322
123. View of a Part of Tashi-lunpo, with the Façade of a
Mausoleum of a Grand Lama 324
124. Façade of the Mausoleum of the First Tashi Lama. The
Court of Ceremonies in the Foreground 326
125, 126. Interiors of two Mausoleums of Grand Lamas in
Tashi-lunpo 328
127. The Kanjur-lhakang in Tashi-lunpo 330
128. Portal of the Mausoleum of the Third Tashi Lama in
Tashi-lunpo 332
129. The Namgyal-lhakang with the Figure of Tsong Kapa, in
Tashi-lunpo _Coloured_ 334
130. Reading Lama with Dorche (Thunderbolt) and Drilbu
(Prayer-Bell) 336
131. Lama with Prayer-Drum 336
132. Entrance to the Tomb of the Fifth Tashi Lama in
Tashi-lunpo _Coloured_ 338
133. Staircase to the Mausoleum of the Fifth Tashi Lama in
Tashi-lunpo 340
134. Shigatse-dzong (the Fortress) 342
135. Shigatse, Capital of the Province of Chang (11,880 feet) 344
136. Chinese New Year Festival in my Garden 346
137. Some of the Members in the Shooting Competition at the New
Year Festival 346
138. Popular Diversion in Shigatse 348
139. Nepalese performing Symbolical Dances at the New Year
Festival 350
140. Dancing Nepalese at the New Year Festival, Tashi-lunpo 352
141. The Kitchen in Tashi-lunpo 354
142. Colonnade in Tashi-lunpo 354
143. Lamas drinking Tea in the Court of Ceremonies in
Tashi-lunpo 358
144. Part of Shigatse 362
145. The Tashi Lama returning to the Labrang after a Ceremony 362
146. The Panchen Rinpoche, or Tashi Lama 366
147. Portrait of the Tashi Lama 370
148. Lamas with Copper Tea-pots 374
149. Female Pilgrim from Nam-tso and Mendicant Lama 374
150. The Great Red Gallery of Tashi-lunpo 376
151. Chhorten in Tashi-lunpo 378
152. Portal in Tashi-lunpo 380
153. Group of Lamas in Tashi-lunpo 380
154. Lecture in Tashi-lunpo 382
155. Female Pilgrims from the Nam-tso 384
156. Tibetans in Shigatse 384
157, 158, 159. Tibetan Girl and Women in Shigatse 386
160. A Chinaman in Shigatse 388
161. A Tibetan in Shigatse 388
162. A Lama in Tashi-lunpo 388
163. Door-keeper in Tsong Kapa's Temple 388
164. Dancing Boys with Drums 390
165. Wandering Nun with a Tanka depicting a Religious Legend
and singing the Explanation. (In our Garden at Shigatse.) 394
166. Gandän-chöding-gompa, a Nunnery in Ye 394
167. Duke Kung Gushuk, Brother of the Tashi Lama 398
168. The little Brother of the Tashi Lama, the Wife of Kung
Gushuk, and her five Servants 402
169. The little Brother of His Holiness with a Servant 404
170. The Author drawing the Duchess Kung Gushuk 406
171. Major W. F. O'Connor, British Trade Agent in Gyangtse, now
Consul in Seistan 408
172. Captain C. G. Rawling 408
173, 174. Tarting-gompa 410
175. Linga-gompa 410
176. Lung-Ganden-gompa near Tong 410
177. Inscription and Figure of Buddha carved in Granite near
the Village of Lingö 410
178. Tarting-gompa 412
179. Sego-chummo Lhakang in Tarting-gompa 412
180. Bridge to the Monastery Pinzoling (on the right) 414
181. Group of Tibetans in the Village of Tong 418
182. Inhabitants of the Village of Govo 418
183. Lama in Tong 422
184. Old Tibetan 422
185. Strolling Musicians 424
186. The Handsome Woman, Putön 426
187. On the My-chu near Linga 430
188. Village and Monastery of Linga 430
MAPS
1. The Latest Map of Tibet.
2. Carte Générale du Thibet ou Bout-tan.
3. Map of Southern Tibet (Hodgson).
4. The Source-Region of the Brahmaputra (Nain Sing).
5. Sketch-Map of Webber's Route in 1866.
6. Saunders' Map of South Tibet.
7. The Source-Region of the Brahmaputra (Ryder).
(_At end of Volume._)
CHAPTER I
SIMLA
In the spring of the year 1905 my mind was much occupied with thoughts
of a new journey to Tibet. Three years had passed since my return to my
own country; my study began to be too small for me; at eventide, when
all around was quiet, I seemed to hear in the sough of the wind a voice
admonishing me to "come back again to the silence of the wilderness";
and when I awoke in the morning I involuntarily listened for caravan
bells outside. So the time passed till my plans were ripened and my fate
was soon decided; I must return to the freedom of the desert and hie
away to the broad plains between the snow-clad mountains of Tibet. Not
to listen to this secret voice when it speaks strongly and clearly means
deterioration and ruin; one must resign oneself to the guidance of this
invisible hand, have faith in its divine origin and in oneself, and
submit to the gnawing pain which another departure from home, for so
long a time and with the future uncertain, brings with it.
In the concluding lines of my scientific work on the results of my
former journey (_Scientific Results_) I spoke of the impossibility of
giving a complete description of the internal structure of Tibet, its
mountains and valleys, its rivers and lakes, while so large a part of
the country was still quite unknown. "Under these circumstances," I said
(vol. iv. p. 608), "I prefer to postpone the completion of such a
monograph till my return from the journey on which I am about to start."
Instead of losing myself in conjectures or arriving at confused results
owing to lack of material, I would rather see with my own eyes the
unknown districts in the midst of northern Tibet, and, above all, visit
the extensive areas of entirely unexplored country which stretches to
the north of the upper Brahmaputra and has not been traversed by
Europeans or Indian pundits. Thus much was _à priori_ certain, that this
region presented the grandest problems which remained still unsolved in
the physical geography of Asia. There must exist one or more mountain
systems running parallel with the Himalayas and the Karakorum range;
there must be found peaks and ridges on which the eye of the explorer
had never lighted; turquoise-blue salt lakes in valleys and hollows
reflect the restless passage of the monsoon clouds north-eastwards, and
from their southern margins voluminous rivers must flow down, sometimes
turbulent, sometimes smooth. There, no doubt, were nomad tribes, who
left their winter pastures in spring, and during the summer wandered
about on the higher plains when the new grass had sprung up from the
poor soil. But whether a settled population dwelt there, whether there
were monasteries, where a lama, punctual as the sun, gave the daily
summons to prayer from the roof by blowing through a shell,--that no one
knew. Tibetan literature, old and recent, was searched in vain for
information; nothing could be found but fanciful conjectures about the
existence of a mighty chain, which were of no value as they did not
accord with the reality and were not based on any actual facts. On the
other hand, a few travellers had skirted the unknown country on the
north and south, east and west, myself among the number. Looking at a
map, which shows the routes of travellers in Tibet, one might almost
suppose that we had purposely avoided the great white patch bearing on
the recently published English map only the word "Unexplored." Hence it
might be concluded that it would be no easy feat to cross this tract, or
otherwise some one would ere now have strayed into it. In my book
_Central Asia and Tibet_ I have fully described the desperate attempts I
made in the autumn and winter of 1901 to advance southwards from my
route between the Zilling-tso and the Pangong-tso. One of my aims was to
find an opportunity of visiting one or more of the great lakes in
Central Tibet which the Indian pundit, Nain Sing, discovered in 1874,
and which since then had never been seen except by the natives. During
my former journey I had dreamt of discovering the source of the Indus,
but it was not then my good fortune to reach it. This mysterious spot
had never been inserted in its proper place on the map of Asia--but it
must exist somewhere. Since the day when the great Macedonian Alexander
(in the year 326 B.C.) crossed the mighty stream with his victorious
host, the question of the situation of this spot has always stood in the
order of the day of geographical exploration.
It was both impossible and unnecessary to draw up beforehand a complete
plan of a journey of which the course and conclusion were more than
usually uncertain, and depended on circumstances quite beyond my
control. I did, indeed, draw on a map of Tibet the probable route of my
journey, that my parents and sisters might know roughly whereabouts I
should be. If this map be compared with my actual route it will be seen
that in both cases the districts visited are the same, but the course
and details are totally different.
In the meantime I wrote to Lord Curzon, then Viceroy of India, informed
him of my plan, and begged for all the assistance that seemed to me
necessary for a successful journey in disturbed Tibet, so lately in a
state of war.
Soon after I received the following letter, which I reproduce here with
the consent of the writer:
VICEREGAL LODGE, SIMLA,
_July 6, 1905_.
MY DEAR DR. HEDIN--I am very glad that you propose to act upon my
advice, and to make one more big Central Asian journey before you
desist from your wonderful travels.
I shall be proud to render you what assistance lies in my power while
I still remain in India, and only regret that long before your great
expedition is over I shall have left these shores. For it is my
intention to depart in April 1906.
Now as regards your plan. I gather that you will not be in India
before next spring, when perhaps I may still see you. I will arrange
to have a good native surveyor ready to accompany you, and I will
further have a man instructed in astronomical observations and in
meteorological recording--so as to be available for you at the same
time.
I cannot say what the attitude of the Tibetan Government will be at
the time that you reach India. But if they continue friendly, we will
of course endeavour to secure for you the requisite permits and
protections.
Assuring you that it will give me the greatest pleasure in any way to
further your plans,--I am yours sincerely,
CURZON.
It may easily be conceived how important this active protection and help
on the part of the Viceroy was to me. I was especially pleased that I
was allowed to take with me native topographers experienced in survey
work, for with their co-operation the maps to be compiled would be far
more valuable, while, released from this complicated work which takes up
so much time, I could devote myself entirely to researches in physical
geography.
With this kind letter at starting I commenced my fifth journey to Asia.
Lord Curzon had, indeed, when I reached India, already left his post,
and a new Government was shortly to take the helm in England with Sir
Henry Campbell-Bannerman as premier. But Lord Curzon's promises were the
words of a Cæsar, and I had not the slightest doubt that a Liberal
Government would respect them.
On October 16, 1905, the same day on which I had started twelve years
before on my journey through Asia, I again left my dear old home in
Stockholm. This time it seemed far more uncertain whether I should see
all my dear ones again; sometime or other the chain that binds us must
be broken. Would it be granted me to find once more my home unchanged?
I travelled viâ Constantinople and the Black Sea, through Turkish
Armenia, across Persia to Seistan, and through the deserts of
Baluchistan to Nushki, where I reached the most western offshoot of the
Indian railway system. After the dust and heat of Baluchistan, Quetta
seemed to me a fine fresh oasis. I left this town on May 20, 1906,
descended in four hours from a height of 5500 feet to a country lying
only 300 feet above sea-level, and found in Sibi a temperature of 100°
F. in the evening. Next day I passed along the Indus and Sutlej through
Samasata and Batinda to Ambala, and I was now, in the hottest part of
the year, the only European in the train. The temperature rose to 107°,
the height I had shortly before recorded in Baluchistan, but it was much
more endurable in the shady carriage, which was protected by a roof and
hanging screens from the direct heat of the sun; it was well, however,
to avoid touching the outside of the carriage, for it was burning hot.
Two window openings are covered with a tissue of root-fibres which are
automatically kept moist, and a wind-catcher sends a draught into the
carriage through the wet matting. At a window like this the temperature
even at noon was only 81½°, and therefore I had nothing to complain of.
At some stations there are excellent restaurants, and natives travelling
on the train sell on the way lemonade and ice as clear as glass.
Nevertheless in India's sultry dried-up plains one longs for the
mountains with their pure cool air. From Kalka a small narrow-gauge
railway carries one in 6½ hours to a height of 7080 feet, and one finds
oneself in Simla, the summer residence of the Viceroy and the
headquarters of the Indian Army. The road is one of the most charming
and magnificent in the world. The little railway climbs up the steep
flanks in the boldest curves, descends the slopes into deep and narrow
ravines, passes along steep mountain spurs, where the train seems as
though it would plunge into space from the extreme point; then the train
crosses bridges which groan and tremble under its weight, enters
pitch-dark tunnels, and again emerges into the blinding sunshine. Now we
run along a valley, catching a glimpse of the bottom far below us, then
mount upwards to a ridge affording an extensive view on both sides, then
again traverse a steep slope where several sections of the marvellously
winding line can be seen below. The scene changes every other minute,
new contours and landscapes present themselves, new points of view and
lights and shades follow one another, and keep the attention of the
traveller on the stretch. There are 102 tunnels on the route, most of
them quite short, but the longest has a length of three-quarters of a
mile.
We pass through one zone of vegetation after another. The flora of the
plain is left far behind; now the eye notices new forms in new
zones--forms characteristic of the various heights of the southern
slopes of the Himalayas--and at last appear the dark deodar forests, the
royal Himalayan cedars, with their luxuriant green foliage, amidst which
are embedded the houses of Simla like swallows' nests. How fascinating
is this sight, but how much more imposing as a symbol of the power of
the British Empire! Here the eagle has its eyry, and from its point of
vantage casts its keen eyes over the plains of India. Here converge
innumerable telegraph wires from all the corners and extremities of the
British Empire, and from this centre numerous orders and instructions
are daily despatched "On His Majesty's Service only"; here the
administration is carried on and the army controlled, and a host of
maharajas are entangled in the meshes like the prey in the nest of a
spider.
I approached Simla with some anxiety. Since Lord Curzon's letter I had
heard nothing more from the authorities in India. The singular town on
its crescent-shaped ridge appears larger and larger, details become
clearer and clearer, there remain only a couple of curves to pass, and
then the train rolls into the station at Simla. Two servants from the
Foreign Office, in scarlet liveries, took possession of my luggage, and
I was welcomed in the Grand Hotel by my old friend Colonel Sir Francis
Younghusband--we kept Christmas together in Kashgar in 1890, and he was
just as friendly and pleasant as then. I was his guest at dinner in the
United Service Club. During half the night we revelled in old
reminiscences of the heart of Asia, spoke of the powerful Russian
Consul-General, Petrovski, in Kashgar, of the English expedition to
Lhasa, which was led by Younghusband, of life in Simla and the coming
festivities in the summer season--but of my prospects my friend did not
utter a word! And I did not ask him; I could believe that if everything
had been plain and straightforward he would have told me at once. But he
was silent as the grave, and I would not question him, though I was
burning with impatience to learn something or other.
When I went out on to my balcony on the morning of May 23, I felt like a
prisoner awaiting his sentence. Below me the roofs of Simla glittered in
the sunshine, and I stood on a level with the tops of the cedars; how
delightful it was here far above the heavy sultry air of the plain. To
the north, through a gap in the luxuriant woods, appeared a scene of
incomparable beauty. There gleamed the nearest ranges of the Himalayas
covered with eternal snow. The crest shone white against the
turquoise-blue sky. The air was so clear that the distance seemed
insignificant; only a few days' journey separated me from these
mountains, and behind them lay mysterious Tibet, the forbidden land, the
land of my dreams. Later on, towards mid-day, the air became hazy and
the glorious view vanished, nor was it again visible during the few
weeks I spent in Simla. It seemed as though a curtain had fallen between
me and Tibet, and as though it had been vouchsafed to me to see only
once from a distance the mountains over which the road led into the land
of promise.
It was a sad day; at twelve o'clock I was to hear my sentence.
Younghusband came for me and we went together to the Foreign Secretary's
Office. Sir Louis Dane received me with great amiability, and we talked
of Persia and the trade route between India and Seistan. Suddenly he
became silent, and then said after a pause:
"It is better you should know at once; the Government in London refuses
you permission to pass into Tibet across the Indian frontier."
"Sad news! But why is this?"
"That I do not know; probably because the present Government wishes to
avoid everything which may give rise to friction on the frontier; the
granting of your request throws responsibility on us should anything
happen to you. Yes, it is a pity. What do you think of doing now?"
"If I had had any suspicion of this in Teheran, I would have taken my
way through Russian Asia, for I have never met with any difficulties
from the Russians."
"Well, we have done out here all we could to forward your plans. The
three native surveyors Lord Curzon promised you have been trained for
six months, and hold themselves in readiness at Dehra Dun. But probably
this too will be countermanded from London. Still, we have not yet given
up all hope, and we expect the final answer on June 3."
To have to wait eleven days for the final decision was unbearable.
Perhaps a personal application might have a favourable effect. I
therefore sent the following telegram to the English Prime Minister:
The friendly words, in which your Excellence referred two years ago in
Parliament to my journey and my book, encourage me to apply direct to
you, and to beg you in the interests of geographical science to grant
me the permission of your Government to pass into Tibet by way of
Simla and Gartok. I propose to explore the region, mostly uninhabited,
to the north of the Tsangpo, and the lakes lying in it, and then to
return to India. I am thoroughly acquainted with the present political
relations between India and Tibet, and as I have held peaceful
intercourse with Asiatics since my twenty-first year, I shall also
this time behave with circumspection, follow the instructions I am
given, and consider it a point of honour to avoid all disputes on the
frontier.
And now we waited again; the days passed, my three native assistants
held themselves ready in Dehra Dun for the journey, the
Commander-in-chief, Lord Kitchener, assured me that he should be pleased
to place at my disposal twenty armed Gurkhas--only the permission sought
from the Secretary of State for India, Mr. John Morley, must first
arrive; for it was he who held the keys of the frontier, and on him
everything depended. Lord Minto, the new Viceroy of India
(Frontispiece), did everything in his power. He wrote long complete
statements of affairs and sent one telegram after another. A refusal
could not discourage him; he always sent off another despatch beginning
with the words: "I beg His Majesty's Ministry to take once more into
consideration that," etc. When the assurance was given from London that
the refusal was not intended for me personally, but that the same answer
had been communicated to several British officers, Lord Minto in his
last telegram begged that I might be permitted to accompany the British
officer who was to travel to Gartok in summer to inspect the market
there. But the Secretary of State kept immovably to his resolution, and
I received the following reply to my telegram in a despatch of June 1,
1906, from the Secretary to the Viceroy:
The Prime Minister desires that the following message be communicated
to Sven Hedin: "I sincerely regret that I cannot, for reasons which
have doubtless been explained to you by the Indian Government, grant
you the desired assistance for your journey to and in Tibet. This
assistance has also been refused to the Royal Geographical Society in
London, and likewise to British officers in the service of the Indian
Government."
The contents of the last London telegram intimated, then, that nothing
was conceded to me. The Indian Government and the Viceroy could, of
course, do nothing but obey, as usual, the orders from London. They were
willing to do everything, and displayed the warmest interest in my
plans, but they durst not help me. They durst not procure me a permit or
passport from Lhasa, they durst not provide me with an escort,
indispensable in the insecure country of Tibet, and I lost the privilege
of taking with me three efficient topographers and assistants in my
scientific observations, from which both sides would have derived
advantage. But this was not all. Should I fall in with circumstances and
cross the frontier with a party of natives on my own responsibility, the
Indian Government had orders to stop me. Thus Tibet was barred to me
from the side of India, and the English, that is, Mr. John Morley,
closed the country as hermetically as ever the Tibetans had done. I
soon perceived that the greatest difficulties I had to overcome on this
journey proceeded not from Tibet, its rude climate, its rarefied air,
its huge mountains and its wild inhabitants, but--from England! Could I
circumvent Mr. John Morley, I should soon settle with Tibet.
Hope is the last thing one resigns, and so I still hoped that all would
turn out well in the end. Failure spurred my ambition and stretched my
powers to the uttermost tension. Try to hinder me if you can, I thought;
I will show you that I am more at home in Asia than you. Try to close
this immense Tibet, try to bar all the valleys which lead from the
frontier to the high plateaus, and you will find that it is quite
impossible. I felt quite relieved when the last peremptory and somewhat
curt refusal came and put an end to all further negotiations. I had a
feeling as though I was suddenly left in solitude and the future
depended on myself alone. My life and my honour for the next two years
were at stake--of course I never thought of giving in. I had commenced
this fifth journey with a heavy heart, not with trumpets and flourishes
as on the former expeditions. But now it was all at once become my pet
child. Though I should perish, this journey should be the grandest event
of my life. It was the object of all my dreams and hopes, it was the
subject of my prayers, and I longed with all my soul for the hour when
the first caravan should be ready--and then every day would be a full
chord in a song of victory.
[Illustration: 2. COLONEL SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, Commander of the
English Expedition to Tibet, Resident in Kashmir.]
[Illustration: 3. COLONEL J. R. DUNLOP SMITH, Private Secretary to the
Viceroy.]
I do not venture to pass an opinion on the policy which then piled up in
my way obstacles apparently insurmountable. It was at any rate prudent.
For the future it will be necessary. If I had gone under British
protection and accompanied by British subjects and then been killed,
probably a costly punitive expedition must have been sent out to make an
example; whether I were a Swede or an Englishman would have made no
difference in this case. The view the English Secretary of State took of
the matter is shown in his answer to Lord Percy's question a month after
I had received my answer: "Sven Hedin has been refused permission to
penetrate into Tibet for political reasons, in accordance with which
even British subjects are not allowed to visit that country. The Indian
Government favours the expeditions of experienced explorers, but the
Imperial Government has decided otherwise, and considers it advisable to
continue the isolation of Tibet which the late Government so carefully
maintained."
During this time I received many proofs of sympathy and friendship. I
had true friends in India, and they felt it hard that they could not
help me. They would have done it so gladly. I durst not ask them for
anything lest I should place them in an awkward, troublesome position.
Sir Louis Dane had informed me that if my petition were granted I should
have to sign a bond, but what this would have contained I have never
found out. Perhaps it dealt with some kind of responsibility for the men
who accompanied me, or a promise not to visit certain districts, and a
pledge to place the results of my journey at the disposal of the Indian
Government--I know not. But now I was absolved from all obligations;
freedom is after all the best, and he is the strongest who stands alone.
Still, it would be exaggeration to say that I had then any great
affection for the name of Mr. John Morley. How could I foresee that I
should one day reckon him among my best friends, and think of him with
warm respect and admiration?
After my first visit to the Foreign Office, Younghusband (Illustration
2) conducted me to the Viceregal Palace, to enter my name in the
visiting list of Lord and Lady Minto. Younghusband is a gallant man, a
type of the noblest that a people can produce. He was more annoyed than
myself at the refusal of the Government; but he had in this connection a
far more bitter experience--his expedition to Lhasa, which ought to have
thrown open Tibet to scientific exploration, had been in vain. He took
me on the way to Lord Minto's private secretary, Colonel J. R. Dunlop
Smith (Illustration 3), in whom I found a friend for life. He is one of
the finest, noblest, most generous, and learned men that I have ever
met. He is well educated in many subjects, and has a thorough knowledge
of India, for he has lived there four-and-twenty years. When we see
such men in the most responsible posts, we can well conceive that the
ruling race will weather many a violent storm, should they arise, among
the three hundred millions of India.
My life at this time abounded in contrasts. How little did my sojourn at
Simla resemble the years of solitude and silence that awaited me beyond
the mountains veiled in dark masses of cloud! I cannot resist recalling
some reminiscences of these extraordinarily delightful days.
Go with me to the first State dinner on May 24, 1906. Along the walls of
the great drawing-room in the Viceregal Palace are assembled some
hundred guests--all in full dress, in grand uniforms of various colours,
and glittering with orders. One of them is taller than the rest by a
whole head; he holds himself very upright, and seems cool-headed,
energetic, and calm; he speaks to no one, but examines those about him
with penetrating, bright bluish-grey eyes. His features are heavy, but
interesting, serious, impassive, and tanned; one sees that he has had
much experience and is a soldier who has stood fire. His uniform is
scarlet, and a whole fortune in diamonds sparkles on his left breast. He
bears a world-renowned, an imperishable name: Lord Kitchener of Khartum,
the conqueror of Africa and Commander-in-chief of the Indian Army.
[Illustration: 4. VICEREGAL LODGE IN SIMLA.]
A gentleman comes up to me and asks if I remember our having sat
together at a banquet of Lord Curzon's. The Lieutenant-Governor of the
Punjab is also one of my old acquaintances, and Sir Louis Dane
introduces me right and left. A herald enters the room and announces the
approach of the Viceroy, and Lord Minto, accompanied by his staff, makes
the round of the room, greeting each one of his guests, myself only with
the words, "Welcome to Simla." The melancholy tone of the words did not
escape me; he knew well that I did not feel as welcome as he and I
should have wished. To the sound of music we move to the dining-room,
are regaled with choice French dishes, eat off silver plate, and then
rise again to take part in the levée, at which five hundred gentlemen
are presented to the Viceroy, who stands at the steps of the throne.
Their names are called out one by one as they pass rapidly in front
of the throne. Each one halts and turns to the Viceroy, who returns his
deep reverence: he bowed this evening nine hundred times! When Indian
princes or Afghan ambassadors pass before him, he does not bow, but lays
his hand on the hilt of his guest's sword as a sign of friendship and
peace.
Next day I was invited to transfer my quarters to the palace
(Illustration 4), and henceforth I was the guest of Lord and Lady Minto.
The time I spent with them I shall never forget, and these weeks seem to
me now like a dream or a fairy tale. Lord Minto is an ideal British
gentleman, an aristocrat of the noblest race, and yet simple and modest.
In India he soon became popular owing to his affability and kindness,
and he does not think he occupies so high a position that he cannot
speak a friendly word to any man out of the numerous tribes of the
immense Empire committed to his rule. Lord Minto formerly served in
India, and took part in the campaign against Afghanistan; after various
experiences in three continents he was appointed Governor-General of
Canada. In 1904 he returned to his estate of Minto in Scotland,
intending to spend the remainder of his life there; then the King of
England and Emperor of India invested him with the office of Viceroy and
Governor-General of India. He is not the first Earl of Minto who has
held this post, for his great-grandfather was Governor-General of the
British possessions in the Indian peninsula a hundred years ago. Then
one had to sail round the Cape of Good Hope in order to reach the
country of the Hindus, a long, troublesome voyage. Therefore the first
Lord Minto left his family at home. The letters exchanged between
himself and his wife are still extant, and display an affection and
faithfulness quite ideal. When his period of service in India had at
length expired, he embarked on a vessel which carried him over the long
way to his native land, and he hurried with the first coach straight to
Minto. There his wife expected him; she looked along the road with
longing eyes; the appointed time had long passed, and no carriage could
be seen. At length a rider appeared in a cloud of dust, and brought the
news that Lord Minto had died only one post stage from his house. A
small label on the packet of letters bears the words "Poor fools." They
were written by the first Lady Minto.
But now a new Minto family has blossomed into life. Comfort, simplicity,
and happiness prevail in this charming home, where every member
contributes to the beauty of the whole. A viceroy is always overwhelmed
with work for the welfare of India, but Lord Minto preserved an
unalterable composure, and devoted several hours daily to his family. We
met at meals; some guests were usually invited to lunch, but at dinner
we were frequently alone, and then the time passed most agreeably. Then
Lady Minto told of her sojourn in Canada, where she travelled 116,000
miles by rail and steamer, accompanied her husband on his official tours
and on sporting expeditions, shot foaming rapids in a canoe, and took
part in dangerous excursions in Klondike. We looked over her diaries of
that time; they consisted of thick volumes full of photographs, maps,
cuttings, and autographs, and were interspersed with views and
descriptions of singular interest. And yet the diary that Lady Minto had
kept since her arrival in India was still more remarkable and
attractive, for it was set in Oriental splendour and the pomp and
gorgeousness of Eastern lands, was filled with maharajas bedecked with
jewels, receptions in various states, processions and parades, elephants
in red and gold, and all the grandeur and brilliancy inseparable from
the court of an Indian viceroy. Three charming young daughters--the
Ladies Eileen, Ruby, and Violet--fill this home with sunshine and
cheerfulness, and, with their mother, are the queens of the balls and
brilliant fêtes. Like their father, they are fond of sport, and ride
like Valkyries.
[Illustration: 5. LADY MINTO AND THE AUTHOR ON THE TERRACE OF THE
VICEREGAL LODGE.]
Is it to be wondered at that a stranger feels happy in this house, where
he is surrounded daily with kindness and hospitality? My room was over
the private apartments of the Viceroy. On the ground-floor are State
rooms, the large and elegant drawing-rooms, the dining-room, and the
great ball-room decorated in white and gold. The various rooms and
saloons are reached from a large antechamber adorned with arms and heavy
hangings; here there is a very lively scene during entertainments. An
open gallery, a stone verandah, runs round most of the ground-floor,
where visitors, couriers, _chaprassis_, and _jamadars_, wearing red
viceregal uniforms and white turbans, move to and fro. Behind is the
courtyard where carriages, rickshaws, and riders come and go, while
well-kept paths lead to quiet terraces laid out from Lady Minto's
designs. Behind these terraces begins the forest with promenades in the
shadow of the trees (Illustration 5).
From the great hall in the middle of the house a staircase leads to the
first storey, where the family of the Viceroy occupy rooms which surpass
all the rest in the tastefulness of their decoration. Two flights up are
the guest-rooms. From an inner gallery you can look down into the great
hall, where the scarlet footmen glide noiselessly up and down the
stairs. Outside my window was a balcony, where every morning I looked in
vain for a glimpse of the mountains on the borders of Tibet. The highest
official of Peshawar, Sir Harold Deane, with his wife, and the Maharaja
of Idar, were guests in the palace of the Viceroy for a couple of days.
Sir Harold was a man one never forgets after once meeting him; strong,
tall, manly, and amiable. The half-savage tribes and princes on the
frontier of Afghanistan fear and admire him, and he is said to manage
them with masterly tact. This meeting was very important to me, for Sir
Harold gave me letters of introduction to the Maharaja of Kashmir and
his private secretary, Daya Kishen Kaul. At my return to India, Sir
Harold was, alas! dead. In him India has lost one of its best guardians.
The Maharaja of Idar was a striking type of an Indian Prince: he had a
very dark complexion, handsome features, and an energetic bearing; he
dressed for entertainments in silk, gold, and jewels, and altogether
made an appearance which threw all Europeans quite into the shade. Yet
he was exceedingly popular with them, and always a welcome guest. He is
a great sportsman, a first-rate rider, and an exceedingly cool-headed
hunter. He owes his great popularity to the following incident: Once
when an English officer died in the hot season near his palace, there
was difficulty in finding a man to bury the corpse. As every one else
refused, the Maharaja undertook the odious task himself. Scarcely had he
returned to his palace when the steps were stormed by raving Brahmins,
who cried out to him, with threats, that he had forfeited his rank, must
be ejected from his caste, and was unworthy to have rule over the state.
But he went calmly up to them and said that he knew only of one caste,
that of warriors; then he ordered them to go away, and they obeyed.
I met many men in Simla whom I shall always count among my best
friends--Generals Sir Beauchamp Duff and Hawkes, with their amiable
consorts, and Colonel Adam and his wife, who spoke Russian; he was Lord
Minto's military secretary, and died during my absence; also Colonel
M'Swiney and his wife. I was their guest at Bolaram, near Haidarabad, in
1902, and I had met the Colonel in the Pamirs in 1895; he, too, has been
called away by death, only a month before he would have received his
expected promotion to the command of the Ambala brigade. He was an
exceptionally excellent and amiable man. I also made acquaintance with
many members of Younghusband's Lhasa expedition, one of whom, Captain
Cecil Rawling, ardently wished he could get back to Tibet. We often met
and concocted grand plans for a journey together to Gartok--hopes which
all ended in smoke. The German Consul-General, Count Quadt, and his
charming wife were also especial friends of mine. Her mother belonged to
the Swedish family of Wirsén, and we conversed in Swedish. I shall never
forget a dinner at their house. Dunlop Smith and I rode each in a
rickshaw along the long road to Simla, through the town and as far again
on the other side, to Count Quadt's house, which was the Viceregal
residence before Lord Dufferin built the new palace, the "Viceregal
Lodge," in the years 1884-1888. The road was dark, but we had lamps on
the shafts; our runners strained at the carriage like straps, and their
naked soles pattered like wood on the hard earth. We were late; Lord
Kitchener was there already, and every one was waiting. After dinner
the guests were invited to go out into the compound forming the summit
of the hill on which the old palace is built. The light of the full moon
quivered through the mild intoxicating air, the hills around were veiled
in mist and haze, and from the depths of the valleys rose the shrill
penetrating rattle of grasshoppers. But this hill, where lively laughter
resounded and conversation was stimulated by the effects of the dinner,
seemed to be far above the rest of the world. Here and there dark firs
or deodars peeped out of the mist with long outstretched arms like
threatening ghosts. The night was quiet, everything but ourselves and
the grasshoppers seemed to have gone to rest. Such an impression is
never effaced. Etiquette forbade that any one should leave before Lord
Kitchener--he had to give the signal for breaking up the party; but he
found himself very comfortable here, and we talked in French with the
wife of Colonel Townsend, drawing comparisons between the matrimonial
state and the advantages of uncontrolled freedom. It was after midnight
when the dictator of the feast rose, and then ladies and their cavaliers
could make for their rickshaws. Silence reigned on the moonlit hill;
only the shrill song of the grasshoppers still rose to heaven.
A couple of State balls also took place during my stay in the Viceregal
Lodge. Then an endless succession of rickshaws streams up to the
courtyard, winding like a file of glow-worms up Observatory Hill. One is
almost astonished that there are so many of these small two-wheeled
vehicles in Simla, but only the Viceroy, the Commander-in-chief, and the
Governor of the Punjab are allowed to use horse carriages, because of
the narrowness of the roads. Then elegant ladies rustle in low dresses
of silk, with agrafes of diamonds in their hair, and pass through the
entrance and hall escorted by cavaliers in full-dress uniforms. One is
frightfully crushed in this flood of people who have spent hours in
adorning themselves so brilliantly, but the scene is grand and imposing,
a _non plus ultra_ of gala toilets, a kaleidoscope of many colours, of
gold and silver; the red uniforms of the officers stand out sharply
against the light silk dresses of the ladies in white, pink, or blue.
Here and there the jewelled turban of a maharaja hovers over a sea of
European coiffures. Then there is a sudden silence, a passage is opened
through the crowd; the herald has announced the advent of the Viceroy
and his party, and the band plays "God save the King." The Viceroy and
his lady walk slowly through the ranks, saluting on both sides, and take
their seats on the thrones in the great ball-room; then the first waltz
is played. The illustrious hosts summon first one and then another of
their guests to converse with them; there is a rustling of silk, a
humming and buzzing, shoe-soles glide with a scraping noise over the
floor, and the dance-music hurries on its victims with irresistible
force. The guests flock in small parties or large groups into the
adjoining dining-room, and there sup at small tables. At length the
ranks grow thin, the hosts retire, the wheels of the last rickshaw
rattle over the sand of the courtyard, the electric lights are
extinguished, and the palace is quiet again.
[Illustration: 6. HERBERT, VISCOUNT KITCHENER OF KHARTUM, LATE
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE INDIAN ARMY.]
Lord Kitchener's residence stands at the end of the town of Simla, and
is called Snowdon. The visitor enters first a large ante-room, which,
with its tasteful arrangement and decoration, makes rather the
impression of a reception room or a hall of honour bedecked with
trophies. A fine portrait of Gordon Pasha is placed on an easel;
opposite stand busts of Alexander and Cæsar. In the wainscot of the
staircase is inserted the arm of the presidential chair which Uncle
Kruger used in Pretoria, and on the tables, shelves, and friezes are
valuable Chinese vases of the Kang-hi (1662-1722) and Kien-lung
(1736-1795) periods; for Lord Kitchener is an enthusiastic collector of
old Chinese porcelain, but only the very finest finds favour in his
eyes. But what strikes the stranger most in this unique hall, and above
all attracts his attention, are the trophies and flags from Lord
Kitchener's victories in the Sudan and South Africa. They hang down from
their staves from an upper gallery, among them the standards of the
Mahdi and the dervishes of Omdurman and Om Debraket, besides several
Boer flags from the Transvaal and the Orange Free State. In the inner
drawing-room we find the same luxurious decoration with Chinese
porcelain vases and rare ethnographical objects, among which certain
Tibetan temple friezes carved in wood are of great value; they were
brought by Younghusband's Lhasa expedition. On the tables lie albums of
photographs of Lord Kitchener's numerous tours of inspection in India,
and of his journey through the cold Pamir. At receptions the table is
adorned with costly services in solid gold, gifts of the English nation
to the victor of Africa (Illustration 6).
My time in Simla came to an end; it was useless to stay any longer after
I had received the last decisive answer from London. On June 9 I took
leave of the Viceroy and his youngest daughter, who were going to ride
to Mashroba and pass the Sunday there. I cannot describe the
leave-taking; it was so warm and hearty. Lord Minto wished that I might
still carry out my intentions, and he hoped sincerely that we should
again meet in India. I could not on the point of departure express all
the gratitude I felt. He had done all that was in his power to help me,
and had exposed himself to unpleasantnesses on my account. He had played
an important part in my life's course, and I knew that I had gained in
him a lasting friend. It was a trial to have to say good-bye to him. He
was more grieved than myself that our plans had miscarried, and for my
part I felt that my honour now demanded that I should do my best.
On Sunday morning Lady Minto and her two eldest daughters also drove off
to Mashroba. I bade them a last farewell, and thanked them for the
boundless hospitality I had enjoyed in the Viceregal Lodge. The moment
of parting was fortunately short; bitter it certainly was. Two fine
carriages drove up with outriders, and escorted by native cavalry
soldiers in red and gold, carrying lances in their hands. The ladies, in
light bright summer toilets and hats trimmed with flowers, took their
seats--the group of ladies of bluest blood, which through centuries and
generations had been ennobled and refined, seemed to me like a bouquet
of flowers themselves. I remained on the lowest step as long as I could
catch a glimpse of the waving sunshades, but soon the red uniforms of
the soldiers disappeared among the leafy trees of the avenue which
leads down to the main guard, and the romance was at an end.
When I again entered my room the royal palace seemed lifeless and
desolate, and I had no heart to remain any longer. I packed my things,
hurried into the town and paid a couple of short farewell calls, made
arrangements for my heavy luggage, and was soon ready to start. On the
13th I went off. The number thirteen plays a rôle of some importance in
this journey: on November 13 I left Trebizond on the Black Sea; on
December 13 I reached Teheran, the capital of Persia; and on June 13 I
left Simla; but I was not superstitious. Younghusband was the first to
welcome me and the last to say good-bye; I was soon to see him again in
Srinagar. Then the train sped downwards through the 102 tunnels. From a
bend in the road I caught sight of the Viceregal Lodge with its proud
towers and lofty walls, the scene of so many joyful reminiscences and
disappointed hopes.