POLITICAL COMPLICATIONS
In the first chapters of this book I described very briefly the
difficulties placed in my way by the English, and told how the Liberal
Government in London had not only refused the favours I had asked for,
but had even tried to suppress my expedition altogether. In consequence
I had been compelled to make a wide detour all through the Chang-tang,
where more than once our lives hung by a thread, and we had suffered
great losses. Then we met with a weak resistance on the part of the
Tibetans, but, nevertheless, came to Shigatse; it was pure good luck
that the patrols sent out to intercept us had not fallen in with us. On
February 14 the representatives of the Tibetan Government had intimated
to me that I had no right to make a prolonged sojourn in Tibet, and that
I must leave the country. As though I had not enough to do with the
English, Indian, and Tibetan Governments, the Chinese Government also
appeared on the scene on February 18. I was now opposed to a fourfold
combination of Governments, and wished all politics and diplomatists at
Jericho.
On this day the young Chinaman Duan Suen appeared on behalf of Gaw
Daloi, the Chinese political agent in Gyangtse. He brought me a letter
from him with the following curt contents:
[Illustration: 160. A CHINAMAN IN SHIGATSE.
161. A TIBETAN IN SHIGATSE.
162. A LAMA IN TASHI-LUNPO.
163. DOOR-KEEPER IN TSONG KAPA'S TEMPLE.
Sketches by the Author.]
Agreement between Great Britain and China, signed in Pekin in the year
1906, § 2: The Government of Great Britain binds itself not to annex
any Tibetan territory, and not to interfere in the administration
of Tibet. Convention concluded on September 7, 1904, § 9b: No
representative or agent of any foreign Power shall receive permission
to visit Tibet.
Duan Suen also conveyed to me by word of mouth Gaw Daloi's message that
I must on no account travel to Gyangtse, as I had forced my way to
Shigatse without a passport or permit, and that only one route was open
to me, that through the Chang-tang, by which I had come. I answered as
curtly that Gaw Daloi should apply to Major O'Connor, the British
representative in Gyangtse, if he wished to learn anything about me,
instead of sending me impertinent letters.
It had been my plan and desire to visit O'Connor. I knew him very well
by repute; he had loaded me with kindnesses, and I knew that he was one
of the very few who had a thorough knowledge of Tibet.
We had been in constant correspondence with one another since my
arrival. I had explained to him my ideas about the western continuation
of the great mountain system, and O'Connor had replied that he had
always longed to explore the extensive unknown parts in the interior of
Tibet, and had long suspected the existence of a mighty mountain system
to the north of the Tsangpo. I had still an imperfect knowledge of this
system, and therefore I proposed to O'Connor that we should in future
call the mountains Nien-chen-tang-la after the lofty peak on the south
shore of the Tengri-nor. It would have been of the greatest advantage to
me to meet a man like Major O'Connor just at this time (Illustration
171).
Meanwhile I soon began to regard the affair in a different light, for I
perceived that in Gyangtse I should find myself in a worse position than
in Shigatse. As long as I remained in Shigatse, the Chinese did not know
what to do with me, but in Gyangtse the provisions of the treaty would
at once become applicable to my case, and I might be obliged to retire
southwards to India. Gaw Daloi's prohibition with regard to Gyangtse
irritated me a little, but I suspected him of using it as a stratagem,
and all the more because the authorities of Shigatse offered at the same
time to let me baggage animals on hire for my journey thither.
Tsaktserkan, as well as Ma, knew that I had received a letter from Gaw,
and Ma had long negotiations with the gentlemen from Lhasa. Evidently a
political intrigue was going on, and all depended on my playing my cards
well.
As early as February 20 I had noticed that the lamas were afraid of the
Chinese because of my frequent visits to the monastery, and were
becoming more reserved daily. I, however, quietly continued to place
myself under their noses, and even to draw the Sakya-tubpa (Buddha). The
Chinese pretended to fear that the English would reproach them with a
breach of the treaty if they suffered me to sojourn on forbidden ground.
My English friends, on the contrary, rejoiced at my success and hoped
that I should continue to hold out. Meantime a change might come any
day, and therefore I lived in the greatest agitation.
In my answer to Gaw Daloi I begged him to have no anxiety lest I, a
Swede, should have any intention of annexing Tibetan territory, and as
to § 9, he had not quoted it fully, for it ran as follows: "The
Government of Tibet undertakes not to allow a representative or agent of
any foreign Power to visit Tibet without the previous consent of the
Government of Great Britain." This paragraph did not apply to my case,
for I was already in Tibet, and it did not concern me what agreements
the two Governments had made together. My case must be treated from
quite a different standpoint.
Ma had at first consented to send my letters to Gyangtse, but now he
refused, with the excuse that he might seem too ready to oblige me.
Therefore Muhamed Isa had to ride off on February 24 for Gyangtse, to
carry my letter and passport to Gaw Daloi, and also to take 3000 rupees
in sovereigns, which Major O'Connor had promised to exchange for silver
coins.
I also sent a long telegram to the English Prime Minister, asking for
the "consent of the Government of Great Britain," as the Government of
Tibet had hitherto placed no practical obstacles in my way. To this
telegram I received no reply.
[Illustration: 164. DANCING BOYS WITH DRUMS.
Sketch by the Author.]
On February 27 Gaw's answer arrived--not by Muhamed Isa, but by a
special messenger; this was diplomatic but imprudent. Gaw wrote that he
could not believe I would break a treaty between two great nations for
the sake of scientific exploration, that my Chinese passport was not
valid here, and that if I were allowed to travel about in Tibet,
Russians and Englishmen might claim the same privileges. He concluded
with the words: "I have received orders from my Government to arrest you
at once, should you come to Gyangtse, and send you with a guard of
soldiers across the Indian frontier." I afterwards learned that he had
not a single soldier, and that if he had had the whole Chinese army at
his command, he could not have used it against me, if I were staying in
Gyangtse as a guest in the British Agency. I replied, however, that I
was quite willing to set out, in a north-westerly direction, if Gaw
could provide me with a sufficiently large caravan.
On March 1 Ma visited me. He was quite beside himself. The Amban Lien in
Lhasa had sharply reprimanded him because, with 1000 native and 150
Chinese soldiers under his command, he had not been intelligent and
watchful enough to prevent my coming to Shigatse. He had now to inform
me that I must leave the town at once, and asked me to tell him on what
day I proposed to start. "Not for a good while yet," I replied. "The
caravan which is to take me back across the Chang-tang must be ready
first." The monks also had been advised from Lhasa to have as little to
do with me as possible.
My sojourn in Shigatse had, then, given rise to an exchange of notes and
telegrams between Lhasa, Gyangtse, Shigatse, Pekin, Calcutta, and
London, and quite against my will I had become a small apple of discord
among politicians. My position was so uncertain that I left no stone
unturned. The Swedish Minister, Herr G. O. Wallenberg, did all he could
in Pekin to obtain for me the permission of the Chinese Government and a
passport; he spoke with all the high mandarins, but they with the
greatest affability appealed to the treaties in force. The Japanese
Embassy in Pekin also made representations, at the request of Count
Otani (Kioto), but received the astonishing answer that, if I were in
Tibet at all, which was very doubtful, I must be at once expelled from
the country. So I met with refusals on all sides. But I was strong in
one respect: I stood alone, while my opponents were hampered by having
to pay respect to one another's susceptibilities.
Meanwhile I was initiated little by little into the mysteries of Tibetan
politics. Tsaktserkan, sent by the Tashi Lama, used to visit me at dusk.
He asked me how it came about that, after the English had been
victorious against Tibet, China reaped all the advantages of the
victory, and China's power increased in the country while England's
prestige declined. The Tashi Lama was much disturbed by the continued
absence of the Dalai Lama. Immediately after his return from India he
had sent presents to the Dalai Lama, and written several letters to him,
but had never received a reply. The Dalai Lama had been his tutor, and
he was grieved that he could not help him in his difficult situation.
The authorities at Lhasa were incensed against Tashi-lunpo, and asserted
that the Tashi Lama had been bribed by the English not to take part in
the war. The Tashi Lama sent to ask me if I thought that the Emperor of
China was angry with him because of his journey to India, to which I
answered that in my opinion the Emperor would be pleased if the Tashi
Lama maintained peace with his powerful neighbour to the south, and if
there was a good understanding between Tibet and India.
Then on March 5 I received a remarkable letter from Gaw Daloi. He
advised me "in strict confidence" to write to Chang Yin Tang (Tang
Darin, or the Imperial Chinese Chief Commissioner in Tibet), and to the
Amban Lien Yü in Lhasa, requesting Their Excellencies to grant me
permission as a particular favour to travel through Gyangtse to Sikkim;
he had no doubt that they would agree to the proposal. First, he had
written to me that his Government had ordered him to arrest me if I came
to Gyangtse, and now he advised me to go there. But by acting contrary
to the orders of his Government, he gave me a dangerous hold over him: I
had him now in my power, and regarded him as out of the running. I then
learned in a roundabout way that his letter had been written in
accordance with orders from Lhasa, where it was feared that I might not
be easily got rid of if I were permitted to penetrate further into Tibet
on my return journey. Ma informed me that he had orders to keep couriers
in readiness for me, and that a letter would reach Lhasa in five days.
I now wrote to the Tang Darin, telling him that I would on no account
act against the wishes of the Chinese Government by travelling through
Gyangtse, but intended to return towards the north-west, if His
Excellence would command that yaks should be placed at my disposal. As a
Swede, I belonged to a country which had from ancient times been on
friendly terms with China, and had no political interests in Tibet.
At the same time I wrote also to Lien Darin, and represented that
neither the Chinese nor the Tibetan Government had any reason to
complain of my journey to Shigatse; if my coming were displeasing to
them, they should have prevented me in good time. On the contrary, they
ought to be grateful to me for calling attention to the possibility of
traversing their country, and I advised them to be more watchful in
future if they wished to exclude Europeans. I should not think of
travelling to India, for my people were mountaineers and would drop down
in the heat like flies; they were, moreover, British subjects, and I was
answerable for their safe return to Leh. It was impossible to travel
through the Chang-tang, but I would willingly follow a route on the
north side of the Tsangpo, where there were nomads. If they wished to
get rid of me, they should not render my return more difficult, but
rather facilitate it in every way.
When, therefore, the Lhasa gentlemen and the deputies from the Shigatse
Dzong urged me that same day to start without delay, I was able to reply
that it could not possibly be done till ten days later, for it would
take so long to receive an answer from Lhasa.
Our position was still like an imprisonment, though everything was done
to get rid of us. On March 4 I was in Tashi-lunpo for the last time. Now
I was excluded from the monastery, for I had been expressly requested
to cease my visits for fear of the suspicion of the Chinese. I promised,
but on condition that I should first be permitted to see the Ngakang,
where the vestments and masks are stored. When this was declared
impossible, we at last came to an agreement that some vestments, masks,
and instruments should be brought to my garden, where I should have an
opportunity of sketching them. The objects were brought at night, and
while I drew them in the daytime, a watch was kept round the house so
that the lamas need not fear being caught. So we came to March 10, when
Tashi arrived with my last 13 yaks, which were so worn out that they
were handed over to a dealer at a nominal price.
[Illustration: 165. WANDERING NUN WITH A TANKA DEPICTING A RELIGIOUS
LEGEND AND SINGING THE EXPLANATION. (In our Garden in Shigatse.)]
[Illustration: 166. GANDÄN-CHÖ-DING-GOMPA, A NUNNERY IN YE.]
Under March 12 the following entry appears in my diary: "In this holy
land the spring is heralded in by kettle-drums and trumpets shriller
than any that are sounded at dawn from the temple roofs, and summon the
lamas to their first tea. Storms, dark masses of cloud, and dust
whirling along the ground, and hiding all the environs except the Dzong
fort, which peeps through dust-mist like a dismal phantom ship. The
temperature rises, and in the day is several degrees above
freezing-point, but there is no other sign of spring. It will come
sometime or other, if it is now turning in bed and trying to rub the
winter sleep out of its frozen eyes. To-day raged one of the most
violent storms we have experienced. The bells of the monastery rang like
storm bells, but their sound did not reach us amid the howling of the
tempest. The kitchen has been removed into the house, no one is seen on
the courtyard, and there is a cracking and whistling among the poplars.
Now and then are heard the bells of a courier's horse which canters by
the outer wall, and perhaps brings new instructions regarding me. Ma
makes no sign, Lobsang Tsering has disappeared, and Tsaktserkan comes
only when I send to ask him. We are more and more isolated, no one dares
associate with us. Our position is exciting and even interesting. It is
evident that we must leave Shigatse, but by which route? I have already
told them that I will not go through Gyangtse or Khatmandu (capital
of Nepal), as Ma proposed to me, and to equip here a caravan for the
Chang-tang is out of the question. I have only one goal, the north of
the Tsangpo, where most important discoveries await me. At the moment we
are on the point of leaving Shigatse we find ourselves for the first
time actually prisoners; as long as we remain here we have at any rate
freedom within our own walls. And as long as I am in Tibet, I am _tabu_
to the English, but as soon as I cross the British frontier I am done
for. I cannot go to Eastern Turkestan, for the Chinese Government has,
as I hear from Gaw, cancelled my passport, because it has been used for
another country. To travel direct to China with Ladakis will also not
do. But if I am compelled to make for Sikkim, I must dismiss the Ladakis
and travel alone to Pekin to explain the affair to the mandarins."
On March 15 the two gentlemen from Lhasa came to me again. They had been
to Gyangtse, and had received orders from Gaw to watch all my movements
carefully. Again they wished to know the day of my departure, and I
replied that I could come to no decision until I knew by what road I
should travel. If it were to the Chang-tang, they might count on a long
delay, and might meanwhile buy a house and marry at their leisure. They
now complained themselves of the increased power of the Chinese in
Tibet, and gave their opinion that only the unrest arising from the new
strict régime in Lhasa had rendered it possible for me to travel across
Tibet unnoticed.
In this they were probably quite right. The blunder of the Dalai Lama
and the unexpected change of front on the part of the English had given
the Chinese an opportunity of establishing their supremacy over Tibet
more securely than they had been able to do since the days of Kang Hi
and Kien Lung in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Of the
prestige of England I could not perceive a shadow, and I heard that the
Tashi Lama regretted his journey to India. Perhaps it was prudent of the
Liberal Government in London to give up Chumbi, and by barring the
frontier to exclude all possibility of boundary disputes and friction on
the Indian side; for in our times the old Asia is beginning to waken
out of its deep sleep, and the Great Powers of Europe which have
interests there should rather seek to retain what they already possess
than endeavour to make fresh acquisitions. At any rate the Chinese
statesmen exhibited on this occasion admirable prudence and vigilance,
and gathered in all that the English gave up. If ever the Dalai Lama
returns safely to Lhasa, he must content himself with the reverence
accorded to him in the Potala as an incarnation, and he will not be
allowed to have anything further to do with political affairs. The
country of Tibet will doubtless in the future be closed as strictly as
hitherto; for the supremacy over Tibet is a political question of the
first importance to China, not only because Tibet is, as it were, a huge
fortress with ramparts, walls, and ditches protecting China, but also on
account of the great spiritual influence which the two popes exercise
over all Mongolians. As long as China has the Dalai Lama in its power,
it can keep the Mongols in check, while in other circumstances the Dalai
Lama could stir them up to insurrection against China. And Mongolia is
also the buffer state between China and Russia.
On March 19 our prospects grew bright at last. Ma had had a meeting with
the two Lhasa gentlemen and the authorities of the Shigatse Dzong. The
last came to me and begged me to inform them whither I meant to travel.
I answered: "Along the Raga-tsangpo to its source."
The gentlemen who had held the meeting, had meanwhile apparently come to
the decision of taking the responsibility on themselves of the
consequences of my journey to the west. But they firmly insisted that I
must take exactly the same route back to Yeshung by which I had come,
that is, through Tanak and Rungma, or they would get into trouble.
When it was thus settled that we were not to go to Gyangtse, I sent
Muhamed Isa to Major O'Connor with all the maps, drawings, and the
results hitherto acquired; the whole despatch afterwards reached Colonel
Dunlop Smith in Calcutta in good condition. We had 3000 rupees more in
gold exchanged for silver money, and I wrote a letter of farewell to my
good friend O'Connor, and likewise to my numerous friends in India. I
also wrote home, as usual, in the form of a complete journal.
On the 20th Ma came through our gate, triumphantly waving a letter with
a large red seal, and called out from a distance: "From the Tang Darin."
The letter was dated on March 15 at Lhasa, and I reproduce it here as a
specimen of Chinese diplomatic correspondence:
DEAR DR. SVEN HEDIN--I was much pleased to receive your letter of the
5th instant, and to hear that you are come to Shigatse in order to
investigate the geography of the unknown parts of this country. I know
that you are one of the famous geographers of Europe, that you move
about here without meddling in the affairs of Tibet, political or
otherwise, and carry out only geographical work.
I have a great respect for you as a man of science, who seriously
advances the progress of earth knowledge. I always value such men most
highly and show them the greatest reverence.
But, to my great regret, I must inform you that the last treaty
between China and Great Britain contains a paragraph declaring that no
stranger, whether he be an Englishman or Russian, an American or
European, has any right to visit Tibet, the three market-towns,
Gyangtse, Yatung, and Gartok, excepted. You are, then, not the only
one to whom the country is closed.
I shall be glad, then, if you will return the same way you came, and
you will thereby put me under a very great obligation.
China and Sweden are really friendly Powers, and both peoples are true
brothers.
I hope you will not judge me harshly, for I am bound by the treaty not
to suffer you to travel further.
I have issued orders to the Chinese and native authorities along your
route to afford you all the facilities in their power.
Wishing you a successful journey, I am, yours truly,
CHANG YIN TANG.
The letter leaves nothing to be desired as far as obliging amiability is
concerned, but its contents are diplomatically obscure. Chinese and
native authorities in the Chang-tang, where we had not seen a living
soul for eighty-one consecutive days! Like Gaw, he falls back on the
treaty signed by Great Britain to close the most interesting country in
the world to exploration.
Ma knew the contents of the letter, and asked if it were still my
determination to follow the Raga-tsangpo upwards. If so, the route was
open to me. I answered in the affirmative, without showing any sign of
my satisfaction, for this road was not sanctioned by Tang's letter. Now
some of the gentlemen of the Dzong had to look after the procuring of
provisions--all by Tang's orders.
All of a sudden the authorities of Shigatse became very polite, and
showered down visits on me, after they found that I was in the good
books of the most powerful man in Tibet in temporal affairs. Six sacks
of _tsamba_, a sack of rice, and twelve cubes of brick tea were brought
to my courtyard, and exact information was asked for as to the points I
intended to touch on beyond the mouth of the Raga-tsangpo. However, I
did not satisfy them, but said that not a single name up there was known
to me. I thought to myself that it was most prudent not to excite
suspicion by too many details; the farther we got away from the central
authorities the greater prospect we had of being left alone. They
inquired how many horses we wanted, and I at once said 65, so as to be
well provided; they went away very quietly, as though they thought that
this was a very large number.
[Illustration: 167. DUKE KUNG GUSHUK, BROTHER OF THE TASHI LAMA.]
On March 24 Muhamed Isa came back with the silver money, more letters,
and all kinds of articles which Major O'Connor, with his usual kindness,
had procured for me. In the afternoon a great council was held: Ma, the
two Lhasa gentlemen, the whole Shigatse Dzong, and Tsaktserkan--in all,
nearly 20 officials, about 100 servants, Chinese soldiers, and
newsmongers; so that the whole court was filled. The new passport was
solemnly read to me. Therein the places were mentioned through which I
might pass: the Raga-tsangpo, then Saka-dzong, Tradum, Tuksum, Gartok,
Demchok, and the Ladak frontier. I must not stop at any point, must make
long day's marches, and travel straight along the valleys of the
Brahmaputra and the Indus. I considered it useless to make any
objections to the regulations; not a word was said of the country north
of the Tsangpo, where I suspected the existence of the great mountain
system. But I thought that we might contrive ourselves in some way or
other an excursion thither, and resolved to give them plenty of trouble
before they got rid of me. Two Chinamen, an official of the Labrang
and one from the Shigatse Dzong, were to accompany me for the first part
of the journey, and then be relieved by four others. The escort was
introduced to me. The gentlemen insisted that we should start next day,
but I declared that we required two days more to complete our
preparations. All the provisions they had hurriedly collected were
weighed in their presence, and paid for by me.
The brown puppy arranged for the morning of the 25th an interlude which
certainly was not unexpected. Inspired by uncivilized ideas about the
sanctity of my tent, the bitch had not ventured in for a long time, but
now, just as I sat writing my last letter, she came and scratched a hole
with her fore-paws in a corner of my tent, whined uneasily, laid her
head on my knee, and looked very unhappy, as though she wished me to
understand how helpless she felt. Before I was aware two very small
puppies lay squeaking at my feet. While the young mother was licking her
first-born with great tenderness, Muhamed Isa made a soft lair for the
family. Puppy had scarcely taken her place on it when two more puppies
made their entrance into this queer world. Then she probably thought
that this was enough, for after a good meal of meat and a bowl of milk
she rolled herself up with her well-tended young ones and went to sleep.
The new puppies were black as coal and small as rats. I bought a basket
for them to travel in until they could follow on foot the caravan in
which they were born, and become good caravan dogs. We had tried here,
too, in vain to get some good dogs, for our vagabonds from the
Ngangtse-tso were good watch-dogs but unpleasant companions. Now we had
suddenly a whole pack, and it would be an amusement to us to watch their
development. Whatever might be our future fate, we could not reach Ladak
in less than half a year, and by that time the puppies would have grown
big and comical. Henceforth Puppy was allowed to live in my tent, and we
became the best friends in the world, for I was as anxious and careful
about the young ones as she. But she would not allow any one to approach
who had no business here; scarcely half an hour after the catastrophe
she dashed at two boys who were loitering about the court. There was a
dreadful whining in the corner of the tent, but both the mother and
young ones were as well as could be expected under the circumstances, as
it is expressed in society bulletins.
In the meantime there was a very busy commotion in our courtyard. The
heavy baggage was packed; rice and _tsamba_ for the men, and barley for
the horses, sewed up in bags accurately weighed; Chinese macaroni,
cabbages, onions, fine wheaten flour, spices, potatoes, and as many eggs
as we could get, were brought in from the market. The books, which I had
received from O'Connor, filled a box to themselves, and would be thrown
away, one after another, as soon as they had been read. When all had
been packed up, my tent looked very bare.
On March 26, our last day in Shigatse, the packing was finished and Ma
Chi Fu, a young official in Chumbi, came from Lhasa, bringing me
greetings from Their Excellencies. He was a Dungan (Mohammedan), spoke
gently and politely, and was one of the noblest, most refined, and
sympathetic Chinamen whom I have known. He was also exceptionally
handsome, had large bright eyes, which had scarcely any characteristics
of his race, and pure Aryan features, and wore a valuable silken cloak.
He regretted that he had had no opportunity of showing me hospitality,
and begged me to believe that the escort would be only a guard; it was
only to watch over our safety, and had orders to serve us to the best of
its ability. Ma Chi Fu brought a kind letter from Lien Darin, the Amban
of Lhasa, in which he wrote:
I knew that you were a learned geographer from Sweden. I am sorry that
in consequence of the treaty I am not now able to make better
arrangements for you in Tibet, but you are a wise man, and will
therefore understand the difficulty in which I find myself much
against my will.
In all my personal contact and correspondence with the Chinese they
always showed me the greatest kindness and consideration. They were the
masters of the country, and I had no right to travel about in Tibet, yet
they never made use of hard words, much less of the means of actual
compulsion that were at their command, but carried their hospitality as
far as was consistent with loyalty to their own country. Therefore I
retain the most agreeable memories of this and all my former travels.
In the evening I bade farewell to good old Ma, gave him three useless
horses, which would, however, recover with good treatment, and thanked
him for all his kindness to me. He expressed a hope that we might meet
once more in this life. All who had been of service to us received
considerable presents of money, and Kung Gushuk demanded 45 rupees as
rent for his garden. I would have gladly given him several times the sum
for the memorable days I had spent under the slender poplars, when the
soughing of the spring winds roused me out of sleep.