The Russian Government now began again to refer to Tibetan affairs. On April 13 Lord Lansdowne had assured the Russian Ambassador[[29]] that “nothing had happened to modify the objects with which we had originally determined to send Colonel Younghusband’s Mission into Tibetan territory.” And on June 2,[[30]] the Ambassador having on several occasions expressed a hope that our policy towards Tibet would not be altered by recent events, Lord Lansdowne informed him in writing that, in sanctioning the advance of the Mission to Gyantse, they announced to the Government of India that “they were clearly of opinion that this step should not be allowed to lead up to the occupation of Tibet, or to permanent intervention in Tibetan affairs. They stated that the advance was to be made for the sole purpose of obtaining satisfaction, and that as soon as reparation had been obtained, withdrawal would be effected. They added that they were not prepared to establish a permanent mission in Tibet, and that the question of enforcing trade facilities in that country was to be considered in the light of this decision.” “I am now able to tell you,” continued Lord Lansdowne, “that His Majesty’s Government still adhere to the policy thus described, though it is obvious that their action must to some extent depend upon the conduct of the Tibetans themselves, and that His Majesty’s Government cannot undertake that they will not depart in any eventuality from the policy which now commends itself to them. They desire, however, to state in the most emphatic terms that, so long as no other Power endeavours to intervene in the affairs of Tibet, they would not attempt either to annex it, to establish a protectorate over it, or in any way to control its internal administration.”
This, in the sequel, was to be a clinching fetter on the action of the Indian Government. They still wanted a representative at Lhasa; and in view of the determined hostility of the Tibetans, they wanted discretion to occupy the Chumbi Valley as a guarantee for the fulfilment of the treaty; and when the Russians had permanently stationed thousands of troops in Manchuria, had constructed railways, built forts, and established posts, where seventeen years before I had not seen a single Russian, and when they had Consular representatives all along their border in Chinese Turkestan and Mongolia, it was hard to see on what grounds they could have objected to the very mild measures which the Government of India desired to adopt. In any case, when the Tibetans had shown, not merely passive obstinacy, but downright hostility, and when, even though it might be the case that, in the words of Count Lamsdorff to Sir Charles Hardinge,[[31]] “the relations between Russia and Tibet were of a purely religious nature, due solely to the large number of Russian Buriats who regarded the Dalai Lama as their Pope,” it was clear that the Tibetans relied on those merely religious relations as a support against us, the Government of India might have hoped that their hands would be freed to enable them to definitely settle up this intrinsically not very important Tibetan affair. But “wider international considerations” were, as so often happens in Indian affairs, to tell hardly against the Government of India. Since the Mission had started into Tibet war between Russia and Japan had broken out. Our relations with Russia were, consequently, at a very delicate stage. War was in the air, and statesmen had to be careful. For the sake of this insignificant business with Tibet, it would be hardly worth while endangering our relations with Russia, especially when her adhesion to our arrangement with France in regard to Egypt was required. Yet when we look at the map at the end of this book, and see how far the Russian frontier is from Tibet and to what a length our own actually touches it, and when we remember, too, that there was actually in Lhasa at this time a Russian subject who had been accustomed to go backwards and forwards between Lhasa and St. Petersburg, and served therefore all the purposes required of those religious relations which it was very natural should subsist between the Dalai Lama and Russian Buddhists, it does seem hard that the Government of India, now at the climax of all their efforts, should have been tied down through deference to the distant Power.
It is a remarkable coincidence, in this connection, that while the Russians were making protests and representations upon a move of ours which was not within a thousand miles of their frontier, the Chinese Vice-Minister, when Sir Ernest Satow informed him[[32]] that we intended to advance to Lhasa, received the news with perfect equanimity, raised no objection, and remarked that the Dalai Lama was ignorant and pigheaded.
I reached Chumbi on June 10, and spent the next few days in discussing details of the advance with General Macdonald. The change from the monotony of the investment at Gyantse and from the barrenness and high altitude of Tibet was refreshing in the extreme. I met old friends again: Colonel J. M. Stewart, who had years before relieved me when I had been arrested by the Russians on the Pamirs; Major Beynon, who had been Colonel Kelly’s Staff Officer in the Relief of Chitral; and my brother-in-law, Vernon Magniac, who was to accompany me now as private secretary, and whose companionship was the greatest relief in the midst of a host of the usual official worries. The drop from 13,000 feet at Gyantse to 9,000 feet in Chumbi, and the change from constant risk to absolute security, all eased the tension on me; and the joy of being once more amidst luxuriant vegetation, with gorgeous rhododendrons, dense pine forests, roses, primulas, and all the wealth of Alpine flowery beauty, was a softening and welcome relaxation.
At Phari, on my way to Chumbi, I had met the Tongsa Penlop, now the Maharaja of Bhutan, who had recently come to interview General Macdonald and myself. Mr. Walsh, who had been in political charge of Chumbi, had interviewed him on June 3, and to him the Tongsa Penlop had admitted the unreasonableness and folly of the Tibetans, but argued that it was due to the bad advice of the Councillors, who had, in consequence, all been put in prison. He said, though, that nothing could be gained by our going to Lhasa, as the Dalai Lama and the Government would all leave before our arrival, and we should find no one there with whom to negotiate. He had written to the Dalai Lama, informing him of what I had told the Trimpuk Jongpen at Tuna we wanted, and the Dalai Lama had replied that the Sikkim boundary must be as it was, that no trade-mart could be established, and that no communication from the Indian Government could be received by the Tibetan Government. The Tongsa Penlop added that the rumour in Bhutan was that Mr. Walsh had been killed at Guru, that I had been killed at Gyantse, and that Russians had landed at Calcutta, defeated the English, and set up five banners.
This was a somewhat gloomy outlook; still, I was a good deal encouraged by my interview with the Tongsa Penlop. Mr. Walsh had been able to dispel many illusions, and at subsequent interviews the Tongsa Penlop had been a good deal impressed by General Macdonald and Mr. White, the latter of whom founded a friendship which has had most beneficial subsequent results.
The Tongsa Penlop I found to be a straight, honest-looking, dignified man of about forty-seven years of age. He bore himself well, dressed well, gave me costly presents, and altogether showed himself a man of importance and authority. He said he was most anxious to effect a settlement between us and the Tibetans. The latter had been very obstinate and wrong-headed, but the Dalai Lama was a young man, who needed good counsellors, and unfortunately there were bad men in Lhasa, who acted in his name to the detriment of the country. General Macdonald had told him that we were prepared to receive negotiators up to June 25, and he (the Tongsa Penlop) had, accordingly, written urgently to the Tibetans to send a negotiator before that date. Would not I, therefore, show patience up to then?
