CHAPTER XVIII
THE TREATY CONCLUDED
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[[36]] that “the date on which the return of the force from Lhasa is to begin should be fixed by the military authorities in communication with Younghusband.” In accordance with these instructions, General Macdonald telegraphed to the Adjutant-General[[37]] that he had consulted me with regard to fixing a date for our departure, that I had said I could not fix any date, but thought the beginning of October the earliest, and could not guarantee that. The medical authorities considered September 1 the latest safe date. The officers commanding units thought the 12th might be risked. General Macdonald himself was prepared to stay till September 15, and would delay the departure a few days longer if that would make the difference. There had already been snow on the hills round Lhasa and Nagartse, there was heavy snow on the Karo-la and at Ralung, with severe frost on the Karo-la, and the return march would take nineteen days. General Macdonald concluded that September 13 was the latest safe date for our stay in Lhasa, and would be glad of immediate orders, but, in the absence of orders to the contrary, would fix the 15th for the departure.
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 time, but when my opportunity came, as come it must, I would strike in hard and sharp. The psychological moment had exactly arrived, and I determined to use it. I told the Chinese Resident that I would call on him on September 1 with the full final draft of the Treaty, and that I would like the Tibetan Council and the members of the National Assembly to be present when I met him. In the presence of the Chinese representative, I meant to inform the whole of the leading men of Lhasa, monk, lay, and official, that they must sign the Treaty, or take the consequences of refusal.
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 even now we were not demanding the whole, but only half, the cost of the military operations. The other half would have to fall upon India. The sum we were now asking would, if the Treaty were signed the next day, be 75 lakhs of rupees, calculated at the rate of Rs. 50,000 a day from the date on which I was attacked at Gyantse till one month after the date of signature of the Treaty. If they signed it on September 3, the amount would be 75½ lakhs. If on September 4, 76 lakhs, and so on. I was prepared to explain any point in the final draft which they did not understand, but I could not further discuss the terms. They had been especially framed with moderation. They embodied the commands of the British Government, and would have to be accepted. I would give them another week within which they might receive explanations and think matters over. But I could not give them any longer time, for while they were punishing themselves by adding day by day to the amount of the indemnity, they were also punishing India, who had to pay the other half of the cost.
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 prices from us for the articles they brought for sale to our camp.