CHAPTER XXXI

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.