We were now at the end of August; my time was very short, and I was in an awkward predicament. On the 30th I had telegraphed to Government that the Tibetans, in spite of their protests of poverty, could really pay the indemnity, but that I thought trade concessions in lieu of a portion would be preferable. I also asked for liberty to arrange for payment of the indemnity by instalments of one lakh of rupees (£6,666) a year for a long term of years, if that arrangement were preferred by the Tibetans, a proposal which I had also made a month before. On the same day I was told by General Macdonald that September 15 was the latest date to which he could remain at Lhasa. The Secretary of State had telegraphed to the Viceroy From the purely military point of view this was perfectly sound, and latterly the emphasis had been so much laid upon military considerations that I had not much hope of this date being altered. It had, indeed, got into the papers from some military office in Simla, and reached Peking. I was then in a very critical position. The Treaty was almost within my grasp, but I might be pulled back by military considerations before I had time to conclude it. On the other hand, Mr. White, Captain O’Connor, and I had between us interviewed at length all the principal men in Lhasa, and if we had not fully convinced them, we had, at any rate, broken down most of their opposition. And the Nepalese and Bhutanese, and the Chinese Resident, too, had worked away to bring about the same result. The consequence was that about this time I was pretty well convinced that the bulk of them had at the back of their minds decided to agree to our terms, and put an end to the business. They all realized that the Dalai Lama, or his previous advisers, had blundered into a hopeless position, out of which they had to get as best they might. No one man liked to get up and propose that they should agree to our terms. But if they were put in a position when all had to agree, no one would undertake the responsibility of objecting. That was how I gauged the situation. The time to strike had come. If I had moved earlier, before the Tibetans had, each of them, had the opportunity of blowing off steam, I should simply have aroused more armed opposition. If I delayed, I might have to leave Lhasa through military considerations before I ever got the chance. I had asserted fifteen months before, in a letter to my father written when just starting for Tibet, that I would sit tight any length of On the appointed day, September 1, with my whole staff, all of us in full-dress uniform, I rode through the city of Lhasa to the Chinese Residency. Here the Resident received me with his usual courtesy, and after some general conversation, I intimated to him that I would proceed to business. He thereupon summoned the Sha-pÉs, who, after salutations, took their seats on stools in the centre of the room. Most of the members of the National Assembly then present in Lhasa also came in, and were huddled into the corners. I then rose and presented the Resident with the full final draft of the Treaty (precisely as I had received it from Government), in English, Chinese, and Tibetan. The Resident handed the Tibetan copy to the Sha-pÉs, and when all were seated again, I asked the Resident’s permission to address a few words to the Tibetans in regard to the Treaty. The Resident having assented, I said that as this was the first opportunity I had had of addressing members of the National Assembly, I wished to take advantage of it to let them know that if they had negotiated with me at Khamba Jong, or even at Gyantse when I first arrived there, the terms would not have been as severe as these we were now asking. We would merely have arranged trade and boundary questions, and there would have been no demand for an indemnity. By following the advice the Resident had given them, they might have been saved all the trouble in which they found themselves involved. They had chosen to fight, and had been defeated, and had to pay the consequences. Yet They asked to be allowed to take away the final draft and consider it. I said that, as long as they did not mind paying Rs. 50,000 a day, they might consider it, and come to me or my secretary for explanations. They then made an appeal to the Resident to intercede with me on their behalf. The Resident merely acknowledged their request, and then, after asking me if I had anything further to say to them, dismissed them. When they were gone, I said to the Resident that I was sorry to have to speak to them as I had done, but my experience had been that soft words and reasoning had no effect on their obstinate natures. I then said that the Tibetans were agreeing to all the terms, which did not hurt them in the least, and were, indeed, advantageous, but were refusing the indemnity, the only one of the terms which cost them anything. Excluding foreigners was in accordance with their traditional policy, and was therefore no sacrifice. As to opening trade-marts, that was to their advantage. They were born traders and bargainers, as we were finding to our cost, for they were extorting extravagant The Resident and his staff laughed heartily over this, and said that trade-marts were of course to their advantage. As to the indemnity, I said I had had some experience of Native States, and comparing Tibet with them, I should say Tibet was quite able to pay the amount we were asking. If, however, the Tibetans could not pay the whole amount within three years, I was quite prepared, as I had informed them, to receive proposals for the extension of the period of payment. The Resident thought this reasonable, but made no further remark. I then observed that the draft Convention which I had received from Government was made out between me and the Dalai Lama. Was there any chance of the Dalai Lama returning in time to conclude the Convention with me? The Resident said there was not. I thereupon asked with whom, in that case, I should conclude the Treaty. He said that the Ti Rimpoche would act as Regent, and would use the seal which the Dalai Lama had left with him, and this seal would be supported by the seals of the National Assembly, of the Council, and of the three great monasteries. My bolt had been shot: what would be the result? This was the thought which I kept asking myself as I rode back through the streets of Lhasa. Would the Tibetans fight? Would they brazen it out, and still remain obstinate? Or would they, perhaps, fly as the Dalai Lama had done? On the whole, I thought they would take none of these courses, or I would not have acted as I had done, for all the way through I had tried to follow the principle of looking before I made a step in advance, so that when my foot was once down, I could keep it down. It was a dull and heavy method of procedure, but was the best way, I thought, of impressing an obstinate people like the Tibetans. I considered, on the whole, that their resistance to our demands would now collapse, though I was naturally anxious as to the result. On the day following, September 2, one of the Councillors and some other officials visited Captain On September 4 the Ti Rimpoche (the Regent) and a Secretary of Council, accompanied by the Tongsa Penlop and the Nepalese representative, came to me and announced that the Tibetan Government were prepared to conclude the Treaty with me if the term for the payment of the indemnity would be extended, and the payment made in seventy-five annual instalments of one lakh of rupees each. I kept Captain O’Connor talking with them for a few minutes while I turned the whole question over in my mind once more before I gave a final decision. One very easy course I might have adopted was to say that I must refer the matter to Government and await their orders. But before I could get an answer military considerations might have predominated, and I might find myself forced to leave Lhasa. As the Government of India subsequently said, the language of the communications which they received from the Home Government was such as to impress on them and me alike that they were strongly averse to any prolongation of the stay at Lhasa. I had, therefore, no assurance that I should have time to go on discussing this point with the Tibetans. Then, again, I thought that in the matter of the indemnity a certain amount of latitude had been left me. The Secretary of State’s instructions on this point were: “In regard to the question of an indemnity, the sum to be demanded should not exceed an amount which, it is believed, will be within the power of the Tibetans to pay, by instalments, if necessary, spread over three years. Colonel Younghusband will be guided by circumstances in this matter.” The full despatch was But this question of the indemnity did not stand alone. It had to be taken in connection with another clause which would give us the right to occupy the Chumbi Valley until the indemnity was paid. I had, then, to ask myself further: Would an occupation of the Chumbi Valley for seventy-five years as a guarantee for the payment of an indemnity run counter to any pledge we had given to Russia? Now, Lord Lansdowne, when he gave his pledge, distinctly said that the action of Government must to some extent depend upon the conduct of the Tibetans themselves, and that His Majesty’s Government could not undertake that they would not depart in any eventuality from the policy which then commended itself to them. This was said to the Russian Ambassador on June 2, before Government had heard the result of our announcement to the Tibetans that we would be prepared to negotiate at Gyantse up to June 25. Since Lord Lansdowne had spoken to the Russian Ambassador, the Tibetans had continued fighting, had attacked me at Kangma, and by June 25 had sent no negotiators. The conduct of the Tibetans had, therefore, been such as might very well cause Government to alter their action. Further, the Tibetans, during our advance to Lhasa, had opposed us at the Karo-la, and fired on us from Nagartse Jong. This opposition was indeed slight, because we had been obliged, after June 25, to break down at Gyantse the Tibetan forces which intervened between us and our advance to Lhasa. Had General Macdonald not captured the jong and dispersed the Tibetan forces round Gyantse, the opposition to our advance to Lhasa would have been very much greater than it was. Since Lord Lansdowne had given his pledge to the Russian Ambassador, events had occurred—the failure Then, as regards the nature of the pledges themselves. The pledges given were that, “so long as no other Power endeavours to intervene in the affairs of Tibet, they [His Majesty’s Government] will not attempt either to annex it, to establish a protectorate over it, or in any way to control its internal administration.” THE CHUMBI VALLEY The question was, “Did the right to occupy the Chumbi Valley for seventy-five years, as security for the payment of an indemnity, involve a breach of this pledge?” Burma, in somewhat similar circumstances, we had annexed, but that meant turning out the native rulers, constituting a Government of our own, and stationing garrisons at the capital and throughout the country. Over Native States in India we established protectorates, but that necessarily involved subordinating their foreign relations to our own. In many of them we controlled the internal administration, but only by agents of Government being deputed especially for that purpose. Would the occupation of Chumbi, a valley lying altogether outside Tibet proper, on the Indian and not on the Tibetan side of the watershed, a valley which had not always belonged to Tibet, mean annexing Tibet, establishing a protectorate over it, or controlling its internal administration? This was the question I asked myself, and I answered it in the negative. I said to myself it involved none of the Others might not think likewise. But even if they did not, I could not see that if I agreed to the Tibetan proposals, including, as they would, the right for us to occupy the Chumbi Valley for seventy-five years, I was thereby involving Government in any fresh responsibility. I should not, for instance, be giving to the inhabitants a promise of our protection which it would be impossible for Government to repudiate. I should be simply acquiring for Government the right to occupy the Chumbi Valley for seventy-five years if they wanted to, and if they did not want to, they could go out whenever they liked. I was not “compelling the Government to occupy the Chumbi” Valley; I was simply acquiring the right, which they could abrogate if they did not want it. Arguing thus with myself, I decided finally to seize the golden opportunity. If I let it go I knew not what might happen. The Regent might flee. The National Assembly might sulk. The Chinese might wake up and put in some obstruction. By agreeing I should be doing nothing counter to the wishes of the Government of India, for the amount of the indemnity was what they had themselves suggested, and they had on June 30, Our main object was to put our relations with the Tibetans on a permanently satisfactory basis. By saying “yes” to the Regent’s proposal I should be concluding a settlement which would admirably meet all our local requirements; which would, as they themselves had made it, best suit the Tibetans; which would not, as far as I could judge, run counter to any international obligations; and which would involve Government in no further responsibility. I therefore turned to the Tibetans and said that, in view of the representations which had been made to me as to the difficulty of raising the money in cash, I would agree to the payment being distributed over seventy-five years. They must, however, clearly understand that under the terms of the Treaty we should retain the right to continue to occupy the Chumbi Valley till the full amount of the indemnity was paid. They said that they understood this. I then remarked that the amount due to us was, to-day, 76 lakhs, not 75 lakhs, as two more days had elapsed since I gave them the ultimatum, and for each of those days Rs. 50,000 was chargeable. The Tongsa Penlop, however, asked that this extra lakh might be remitted, and to this I assented. The Tibetans then asked that the amount might be paid in kind—in ponies, for instance. I replied that as the amount was so small it would be better to pay it in cash, for if it were paid in ponies or other articles there would be constant disputes between us as to the value of the articles proffered, and our good relations might be jeopardized. Finally they asked that it might be paid in tangas, the local Tibetan coin. I replied that I had entered rupees in the draft Treaty, and with that they must be content. The Ti Rimpoche then affixed his private seal to the draft Treaty. The thing was done, but what I did in saying those half a dozen words agreeing to the Tibetan proposals was considered afterwards to be a grave error of judgment, and In another matter also I at this time acted on my own responsibility. In the original proposals of the Government of India regarding the terms about which I was, without committing Government, to ascertain how the Tibetan Government would be likely to regard them, As this agreement was of a less formal character than the rest of the Convention, I had it drawn up separately. It ran as follows: “The Government of Tibet agrees to permit the British agent, who will reside at Gyantse, to watch the conditions of the British trade, to visit Lhasa, when it is necessary, to consult with high Chinese and Tibetan officials on such commercial matters of importance as he has found impossible to settle at Gyantse by correspondence or by personal conference with the Tibetan agent.” To this also the Regent gave his consent. On September 5 the Resident and the principal Tibetan authorities came to arrange final details and formalities regarding the signing of the Treaty. The first point to decide was who should sign it. I asked the Resident whose name should be entered in the place of the Dalai Lama’s. He said I might enter the name of the Ti Rimpoche, and he added that representatives of the Council, of the three great monasteries, and of the National Assembly would also affix their seals. To this the Tibetans assented. I then said the next point was to settle the time and place for signature. There could be only one place—namely, the Potala Palace—in which I would sign it, and I was ready to sign as soon as the final copies of the Treaty had been prepared. The Resident said that he had no objection to the Treaty being signed in the Potala. He then informed the Tibetans of our decision. The Tibetans objected strongly, but without advancing any reasons except that they did not wish it. I informed them that they had at Khamba Jong and Gyantse grossly insulted the British representative, and I now insisted that I should be shown the fullest respect. I had been prepared to show, and had shown, the utmost consideration for their religion and sacred buildings, but I expected that they on their part should show the fullest respect to the King-Emperor’s representative. They suggested that the Treaty should be signed in the Resident’s Yamen, but I said I would be content with no other place than that The question of the exact room in the Palace was then discussed, and a certain room was suggested. I told the Resident that I would send officers that afternoon to inspect the Palace, and satisfy themselves that the room suggested was the most appropriate one, and I asked him to have Chinese and Tibetan officials deputed to accompany my officers. To this he agreed. The date for the ceremony of signing was then fixed for the next day. The Resident said he would himself be present, though he would be unable to agree to the Convention till he had heard from Peking. Messrs. White and Wilton, and Captain O’Connor, with Majors Iggulden and Beynon from General Macdonald’s staff, went over the Potala in the afternoon, and reported that the hall suggested by the Tibetans was the most suitable one in the Palace. That, therefore, was the one we fixed on for the ceremony on the following day. Though it was easy enough to speak decisively like this about signing the Treaty in the Potala, I had many qualms that night as to whether I had not perhaps at the last moment made one false step. Since the days of the eccentric Manning—whose name should never be forgotten when Lhasa is mentioned—no European had been inside this Palace, and these 20,000 turbulent monks in and around Lhasa might flare up at the last moment, or else commit some atrocity when we were once and completely in their power inside the buildings. Such things have happened before now to Political Agents in India. On the other hand, the hall we were to go to was not a temple, and the Dalai Lama himself, though considered a sacred being, was also a political personage. It was not in the temple of a god that I insisted upon signing the Treaty; it was in the audience-chamber of a political chief. Here again to the common-sense man it would have seemed ridiculous and foolish to run more additional risk when the Treaty could have been signed comfortably and without any fuss in either my room or the Resident’s. But those who have lived among Asiatics know that the fact of signing the Treaty in the Potala was of as much value as the Treaty itself. Few would know what was in the Treaty, but the fact that the British had concluded a Treaty in the Potala would be an unmistakable sign that the Tibetans had been compelled to come to terms. At the commencement of the Mission our prestige all along our frontier with Tibet had been at zero-point. Everywhere it was thought that the Tibetans could defy us with impunity. Our prestige had no value, and prestige in Asiatic countries is a high practical asset. Through prestige a few Englishmen, without a single British soldier, are able to control a district or State in India containing as many inhabitants as Tibet. Because they had allowed their prestige to wane, the Chinese, even with soldiers, were unable to control Tibet. It was to give an unmistakable sign, which all other countries could understand, that our prestige was re-established in Tibet that I insisted on having the Treaty signed in the Potala itself. To the troops the news that the Treaty was concluded was a completely unexpected announcement. For weeks past they had heard of nothing but Tibetan obstruction. They knew that we should soon be leaving Lhasa, and they had made up their minds that we should have to leave without a Treaty. They were overjoyed, then, when they heard that the Treaty had been concluded and was to be signed next day. On most of the frontier expeditions upon which they had been engaged there was little to All the military arrangements for the ceremonial were in General Macdonald’s hands, and no one could have arranged them with greater care and precaution. Every detail both for effect and for defence was regarded. The route to the Palace was lined with troops, equally for show and for use in case of emergency, and a battery to fire a salute or to bombard the Palace, as occasion might require, was stationed in a suitable position. On the political side we had to arrange the ceremonial in detail, so that there might be no inconvenient hitch at the last moment. The copy of the Treaty which the Tibetans were to keep was written on an immensely long and broad stretch of paper, so that the whole Treaty in all three languages—English, Tibetan, and Chinese—might be on one piece of paper. Four other copies had to be made: one for Calcutta, one for London, one for the Chinese Government, and one for our Minister in Peking. All these were carried on a large silver tray by my Bengali head clerk, Mr. Mitter, who had accompanied me from the Indore Residency Office, and undergone all the hardships and dangers with unfailing cheerfulness. My camp-table was taken in to sign the Treaty on, and on it was laid the flag which had flown over the Mission headquarters throughout. Half an hour before the time fixed for the ceremony the whole of the route leading up to the Potala, and the inside passages as well, were lined with troops. Soon after 3 p.m. General Macdonald and I, accompanied by the members of the Mission and the military staff, reached the Potala. We were received in the Durbar Hall by the Chinese Resident. The chamber was one in which the Dalai Lama holds Durbars, and was large enough to hold about 200 of our troops (some of whom were formed up as an escort, while others had been allowed to attend as spectators), and also about 100 SIGNING THE TREATY. The Ti Rimpoche (the Regent) sat next to the Resident on his left. I was on his right. As soon as we were seated, Tibetan servants brought in tea, and handed cups to all the British and Chinese officials. Low tables of dried fruits were then set before the two rows of officials. When these were all cleared away, I said to the Resident that, with his permission, I would proceed to business. I first had the Treaty read in Tibetan, and then asked the Tibetan officials if they were prepared to sign it. They answered in the affirmative, and the immense roll of paper was produced, on which the Treaty was written in three parallel columns in English, Chinese, and Tibetan, according to their custom of having treaties in different languages inscribed on the same sheet of paper. I asked the Tibetans to affix their seals first, and the long process began. When the seals of the Council, the monasteries, and the National Assembly had been affixed I rose, and, with the Ti Rimpoche, advanced to the table, the Resident and the whole Durbar rising at the same time. The Ti Rimpoche then affixed the Dalai Lama’s seal, and finally I sealed and signed the Treaty. Having done this, I handed the document to the Ti Rimpoche, and said a peace had now been made which I hoped would never again be broken. When the ceremony was concluded I addressed the Tibetans, saying that the misunderstandings of the past were now over, and a basis had been laid for mutual good relations in future. We were not interfering in the smallest degree with their religion, we were annexing no part of their country, we were not interfering in their internal affairs, and we were fully recognizing the continued suzerainty of the Chinese Government. We merely sought to insure that they should abide by the Treaty made on their behalf by the Amban in 1890; that trade relations, which were no less advantageous to them than to us, should be established with them as they had been with every other country in the world, except Tibet; and that they should not depart from their traditional policy in regard to relations with other countries. They had found us bad enemies when they had not observed Treaty obligations, and shown disrespect to the British representative. They would find us equally good friends if they kept the present Treaty and showed civility. As a first token of peace I would ask General Macdonald to release all prisoners of war, and I should expect that they would set at liberty all those imprisoned on account of dealings with us. This speech was translated sentence by sentence by Captain O’Connor, and the Resident’s interpreter translated it sentence by sentence to the Resident. At its conclusion the members of Council said that the Treaty had been made by the whole people, and would never be broken. We should see in future that they really intended to observe it. I then turned to the Resident and thanked him for the help he had given me in making the Treaty. He said he was glad he and I had been able to work together, and he hoped and thought the Tibetans would keep the Treaty. A copy of the Treaty, as signed, is The Tibetans throughout showed perfect good temper and the fullest respect. They often laughed over the operations of sealing, and when we left they all came crowding up to shake hands with every British officer they could make their way to. The Resident was very courteous, and showed special pleasure when my words regarding the continued suzerainty of China being recognized were translated to him. Altogether the ceremonial very deeply impressed the Tibetans, who, without being humiliated in a way which could cause resentment, had now learnt to accord us the respect which was our due. At the conclusion of the Durbar I had the Lamas of the Potala presented with Rs. 1,000. It was the first present, except to the poor, which I had given since my arrival in Lhasa. My motto had been: The “mailed fist” first and the sugar-plums afterwards. The contrary procedure so often leads to trouble. SEALS AFFIXED TO TREATY. |