in fact. I crossed the de facto frontier, and in another fortnight reached the Kalon Lama's headquarters at Chamdo, a town situated on the right bank of the Mekong (there known as the Dza Chu), at the point where that river is joined by its affluent, the Om Chu. I was received by the GovernorGeneral with the greatest ceremony and courtesy. He had sent officials to meet me; the oracles were consulted to discover the most auspicious day for my entry into his capital, and on the date thus happily fixed I rode in escorted by his own bodyguard of twenty-five cavalry, flags flying and bugles blowing, in all a gay display which the whole town, of course, turned out to see. My comings and goings were in general thus ceremoniously marked throughout my wanderings in Tibetan territory. Wherever there happened to be troops they paraded, and all the available sources of display were put into use-processions, flags, bugles, bagpipes, lama orchestras, bonfires, and so on,-all helping to lend a gala air to these occasions. It was all in strong contrast to the experiences of travellers in Tibet in the old days when our prestige in that country was not what it is now.

The Kalon Lama lost no time in putting me in possession of the Tibetan point of view regarding the Commissioner's proposition. The flawless case proved, when viewed from the Tibetan standpoint,

full of flaws, the greatest of which, like Aaron's serpent, swallowed up the rest-namely, that Tibet could not permit the passage of Chinese troops through her territory. That the accommodation the Commissioner required was temporary only, that he had no ulterior purposes, was raising no other issues, and was in a desperate plight-all this made no appeal whatsoever to the Tibetan authorities. They were quite as sure as the Commissioner whose was the rightful ownership of the territory, and, moreover, they were in possession of it, de facto by force of arms and de jure by, inter alia, the terms of the armistice signed by the Commissioner's own plenipotentiaries. what would have stung him most had he been aware of it, they were entirely and unaffectedly indifferent to his woes.

And,

The

A beetle on its back could scarcely have aroused less emotion in them. colossus before whom men trembled in his own domain had become, viewed from this distance, invisible to the naked eye. They decided, however, after mature deliberation, that his letter might as well be given a reply as not, and the Kalon Lama was good enough at my suggestion to couch it in the terms of a non possumus as being less provocative than the blunter nolens. And so the matter rested for the moment while the imp of mischief thought again.

I had not previously met the

that followed. We necessarily saw a great deal of each other, crowding into a few weeks what would have been the normal intercourse of years under different circumstances, so that what our acquaintance lacked in point of duration was amply made up for in concentration. He was a man of great dignity, imposing presence, and outstanding force of character. No ordinary man this, no nonentity pitchforked by favour or circumstance into high office, but a born leader of men-that stood out all over him. He was a vigorous man in the prime of life, tall, large-boned, and heavily built, and obviously of great physical strength; hirsute, virile, massive, with a dominant air about him of authority. The heroes of old must have been, one imagines, like this, and the Moor of Venice. Othello to the life that was the impression he gave one, but there was no Desdemona in his case, for he was celibate, a priest. Astonishing in any country but Tibet that a priest should hold the offices he held, or that such a man as he should be a priest at all, but the Tibetan priesthood is sui generis, not, as in other countries, a body of men more or less cut off from secular employment and confined to religious duties, but rather of the nature of a special order of men, the elect of heaven, permeating the body politic and engaging, many of them, in

In and

that religion was not a thing apart from everyday life. Tibet, in fact, Church State are not so much allied as one and indivisible, and the sovereign of it all is a priest.

The Governor-General and the priest were in no conflict in the soul of the Kalon Lama. In serving his god he was serving his country, and vice versa, and he bore with ease and dignity his dual, indeed his multiple, burden, for he was soldier and politician as well. Dignity, the outward manifestation of a soul at peace, was the salient characteristic of the man. Like Sir Galahad, his heart was pure, and he was absolutely sure of himself. He had Deity behind him, Infallibility; and all he had to do was to obey orders to the letter. I doubt if it ever occurred to him that a case would arise, as it was now to do, where that prop would be out of his reach.

He was tremendously placid. I do not remember ever seeing in him any signs of boredom or impatience, to say nothing of the fidgets, even at those interminable feasts we had to sit through together lasting for hours on end and for three days in succession in each case. Conversation at such functions inevitably flagged, confined as it practically was to him and me by the Tibetan convention which forbade his inferiors from speaking in his presence unless they were spoken to. Ever

and anon he or I would make a remark which would run its poor course to die prematurely in an atmosphere of courteous assent. Then silence while another bright thought germinated, only to meet with the same fate. It was not that we had nothing to say; on the contrary, in our private conversations he talked fluently and to the point, marshalling his facts and presenting his views with skill and vigour. But under the appalling conditions of these banquets it was impossible to carry on a conversation at all. Animation was sapped at its root. An English hostess, if a party of hers were to go like this, would feel like screaming, and no wonder. But there was nothing to be done, and we just sat on our raised dais, and bore it all hour after hour, while dish followed dish slowly and endlessly. I was in a better position than he, for I could fortify myself with the wine and smoke all the time, both of which indulgences were denied him by his cloth, and I wondered if he was as bored as I, and hoped I showed it no more than he did, if, that is, he was bored at all. If he was, there was no sign of it. His massive face wore throughout an air of courteous composure as though he found nothing oppressive in the alternation of long silences and desultory remarks.

In truth, self-restraint was second nature to him, hedged about as he was in his high

office like a divinity. High ceremony, which has given way with us to democracy, where even monarchs can mix with their people like ordinary mortals and presidents more or less have to, is still in all its pristine vigour in Tibet. The most punctilious respect was his daily portion, and there was never any respite for him from it. All who came in touch with him, officials or private citizens, high and low, never for a moment forgot the deference which was the due of his office. His subordinates even where they were generals or civilian officials of equivalent or still higher rank, invariably stood in his presence with head slightly bowed, while he gave his orders or discussed official matters with them, and when the interview was over they withdrew backwards. Officers in uniform would salute him smartly in our own manner, but with body bent double, a queer combination of the formalities of two conventions. When he went abroad, horsemen would dismount and all and sundry draw aside, many of the people dropping on to their knees, or even prostrating themselves

as his cavalcade

went by. He had no privacy at all. Wherever he went, whatever he did, even when he slept, there were always retainers in attendance upon him. They missed nothing, anticipating his every need, a motion on his part to rise or to sit, and they sprang forward to assist. When he mounted his

horse, ready hands held bridle and stirrups and helped him up, and when he dismounted helped him down, and supported him across the courtyard as though he were old and infirm instead of being a more powerful man than any about him. He could not even drink a cup of tea, the national beverage, without a cup-bearer dropping on his knees and lifting the cup up to him ceremoniously with both hands, for all the world as though Cæsar was being offered a crown. In the circumstances he had, of course, no recreations or relaxations of any kind, being precluded from some of them by his cloth, and from all by virtue of his position, the veneration which set him on a pedestal, a being apart.

Somehow or other, in that milieu, and with a man of his almost majestic presence, one missed the incongruity of it all. It seemed natural, he fitted the rôle so perfectly, and everybody, including himself, took it all for granted. I often wondered if he did not find it irksome, but if he did he gave no indication of it. Clearly he had long got used to the restraints and the limitations of his position, and very likely looked upon them as the price he paid for his office and the veneration of the people. Noblesse oblige. Lesser men have their comforts and their pleasures as children have their marbles. He had pomp and power, though I doubt if these

made any special appeal to his mind, for he did not appear, nor was he reputed, to take delight in them. His dignity was marred by no trace of pomposity, and his mind seemed to be set on his duty, what he owed to god and man, not on what others owed to him. His days were full, his time absorbed by the manifold details of his administrative work, from which his only relaxation was found in the religious exercises of a Tibetan priest, prayer and mystical meditation.

After two or three weeks at Chamdo I made a round trip to Jyekundo and back, a journey of about a month's duration, which broke a certain amount of new ground in the geographical sense, especially as regards that part of it which went through the nomad lands of Hlato. At Jyekundo I found that the Commissioner's supplies, the fons et origo of the crisis that was threatening, had not arrived. Had they been swallowed en route, another chicken rewarded for its powers of observation? Were the clouds destined thus to remove themselves, the whole thing to go up in smoke? It looked like it, and I fervently hoped so, but alas! it was not to be. If the consignment had been swallowed, it was in due course regurgitated, and we were again as we were. But I am anticipating.

Returned to Chamdo, I found further letters from the Commissioner and his delegates, burdened with the same refrain,

in reply to which the Kalon Lama reiterated his non possumus, and I pointed out that the alleged supplies were not at Jyekundo at all. I then went on another round trip, this time to Riwoche, and the actual scene of the incident which gave rise to the hostilities of 1917-18, the valley of MaraGeka on the confines of the Thirty-nine Banners of Jyade. Then back again to Chamdo, where I found the Kalon Lama suffering from a recurrence of an old complaint of his which seemed to be the gout, a natural enough affection, it would almost seem, to a man of his bulk and habits, for he really needed much more exercise than the circumstances, as we have seen, permitted him to take.

His

left leg and foot gave him a considerable amount of pain, which he bore with his usual composure, indeed ignored, carrying on as usual, and there was nothing to indicate that he was in the throes of a disease he was to die of in the brief space of a couple of years-that is, if die of it he did. Medicinal treatment and dieting were reinforced in his case by the ministrations of the priests-to wit, prayers and the imprinting upon the swollen parts of seals bearing the mystic formula Om Mani Padme Hum. He asked me how we treated such a complaint in England, and while I had to confess my ignorance I suggested iodine lotion. I gave him some. He tried it, politely commended its efficacy, and I enthusiastically gave him all

VOL. CCXXI.—NO. MCCCXXXV.

the rest I had, but I doubt if it did him any good.

A further interchange of letters with the Commissioner and his delegates, and I set forth on another trip, for Atuntzu in the extreme south, a round journey which took, with halts, upwards of two months. Here again my travels broke new ground, it being my good fortune to be the first and still the only white man to travel down the Salween River at these latitudes (29° and 30° N.). There is something exhilarating in being the first in such matters, and I think all travellers will agree with me that it has nothing to do with getting one's name into guide-books, as Ruskin, in the preface to the second edition of 'Sesame and Lilies,' would appear to imagine. Rather it is the lure of the unknown, the subjective satisfaction of the pioneer in anything, which finds, I should imagine, its intensest expression in the realm of scientific discovery.

The situation came to a head while I was on this trip. The Commissioner's supplies duly reached Jyekundo, and wrote to the Kalon Lama, repeating himself to me, that he was sending his convoy to collect them without further ado, and that if the Tibetans opposed its passage the responsibility for the renewal of hostilities would be theirs. The Tibetan garrisons need not even, unless they preferred to, evacuate the road; it was enough if they refrained from hostilities

D