Treachery in Tibet (2 page)

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I am happy to be of whatever assistance to you that I can. Now, do come and sit down. Would you care for tea? Good gracious, of course you would. You and your husband now grow it, of course. You must drink it. Assam, I presume?’

Alice settled herself on a low divan before what was obviously a golden-gilt-covered French table of some antiquity. ‘I must confess,’ she smiled, as though sharing a guilty confidence, ‘that I much prefer
Darjeeling, if you have any, although it does seem rather traitorous.’

‘So do I, as a matter of fact.’ He strode to his desk and tinkled a small bell that sat on it. ‘
Chai
,’ he called to a white-liveried orderly who responded. ‘Darjeeling. Quickly, now.’

The man bowed and retreated. The curt tone used by Curzon brought to Alice’s mind the by now famous ditty that one of his contemporaries at Oxford had composed about him:

She hid an irreverent grin. Yes, there was no doubt about it. His cheek
was
undoubtedly pink!

The tea was poured: the best Darjeeling, of course, with that distinctive coppery colour, so popular now in the
salons
of Europe. Alice savoured it with pleasure. But the Viceroy was speaking now, with that fluidity and speed that had earned him a reputation as an orator of supreme confidence and style.

‘I see that you are growing your tea in Northern Assam, very much up in the hills, by the look of it. I was surprised to hear that, after Fonthill’s distinguished war against the Boers, he had taken up this most pastoral of occupations. The two of you have shown such great energy and enterprise in all your activities on the periphery of Empire that I might imagine that tea growing in Assam would be perhaps … what shall I say … perhaps a little boring?
N’est-ce pas?’

Alice sipped her tea. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is, rather, although the work is proving rather hard and we have had a few problems with the Naga tribesmen, who live in the hills just east of our patch.’

‘Ah yes. I have had some reports of that. You must tell me if things get worse. I know that Kitchener would be happy to despatch a troop of Gurkhas down from Darjeeling to sort them out.’

‘Thank you, but I think Simon can handle it. Lord Kitchener, of course. He has more or less recently joined you as commander-in-chief, I believe. Neither Simon nor I knew him in the Sudan on the Gordon mission – he was only a major in intelligence then, if I remember rightly – but Simon, in particular, got to know him very well in South Africa. A most brilliant soldier, of course …?’

It was hardly put as a question but Alice had heard that, after a honeymoon period, the great soldier and the great imperialist were no longer on equable terms and she was not above a little probing into the matter.

Curzon did not rise to the bait. ‘Oh, yes, of course. We are lucky to have him. Now, I am sorry that I did not know of your arrival in Assam. I would certainly have sent you both an invitation to dine at Government House. You must forgive me. How long have you been there?’

Alice waved aside the apology languidly. ‘Not so very long. In fact, little more than a year. After the Boer armistice, we hurried back to our small estate in Norfolk to oversee our farming activities there. But,’ she shrugged her shoulders, ‘I’m afraid neither of us are cut out to spend our lives peacefully in the English countryside. I was anxious to resume writing again for the
Post
– there is little to write about in dear old Norfolk – and Simon was itching to try
something new. So’ – she sighed – ‘we bought this small tea estate in Assam, which had been allowed to run down, and Simon has had his hands full there ever since.’

She raised the cup to her lips again. ‘Perhaps I have been the happier of the two because there has been plenty to write about in India—’

‘Ah,’ he interrupted, ‘you must forgive me. My duties here have meant that I have not been quite so assiduous a follower of your work as I was in London. And the
Post
arrives here so dashed late, you know, that the pot has boiled long before I get to take the lid off, so to speak.’

‘Of course. You are forgiven, sir. But I am detaining you far too long with tittle-tattle about the Fonthills. If I may, Lord Curzon, I would like to discuss this Tibetan affair with you and seek your guidance in terms of analysing what is going on there and how the matter could develop.’

Curzon’s face tightened for a moment. Then he raised an elegant eyebrow and smiled coldly. ‘Having noticed over the years how your … er … rather radical views of matters concerning the Empire have been presented with great skill within the more traditional Tory editorial policies followed by the
Post
, I doubt whether I myself will be influential at all in helping you to report on the Tibetan problem. But, be assured that I shall try. Now do fire away.’ He leant back in his chair, crossed one white silk-stockinged leg over the other – it seemed he always wore ceremonial dress during the day – and waved for her to begin.

Alice fumbled in her small bag and produced pencil and notebook. ‘Thank you, Viceroy. But please be assured that my story will be
written as a straightforward report, not an opinion piece. Not a leader, of course.’

‘I understand. And so …’ He leant forward, ‘you would presumably have no objection if I cast an eye over it before you cable it? Just, of course,’ he added hurriedly, ‘so that I might be in a position to correct what might be the odd inaccuracies which can, I know, creep into the most carefully written pieces.’

Summoning what she hoped was a beguiling smile, Alice shook her head gently. ‘I am afraid not, sir. It is not the policy of our newspaper to allow stories to be censored, so to speak. I fear that you must trust me.’

‘Very well. Now, do please begin.’

Alice took a deep breath. ‘Do you intend to invade Tibet?’

Curzon feigned deep astonishment. ‘Good gracious no! Whatever made you think that?’

Scribbling away, Alice looked up. ‘Because for some months now you have had a diplomatic mission – guarded by a military escort of remarkable size considering that the Tibetans are not a militaristic race – sitting over the border half a day’s march into Tibet at a place called Khamba Jong. I understand that the Tibetans have consistently refused to negotiate with the mission and that it and its escort is now being withdrawn back into India and that a considerable number of troops is being assembled near the border, presumably with aggressive intents towards Tibet? Why?’

The Viceroy, seemingly unperturbed, raised two hands defensively. ‘Most of what you say is true. What is not true is the assumption that you draw from the facts.’

‘Then why, pray, assemble the troops? What have the Tibetans done to harm India or the Raj?’

‘Ah.’ He pressed the fingertips of both hands together and tapped them, in a meditative mode. ‘We must go back a little in time, Miss Griffith, so that you understand the background.’

‘Please do.’

‘Very well. You will know that I have travelled extensively through these parts in the past and talked with a good many rulers long before I took up this position in Calcutta?’

Alice nodded, pencil poised.

‘In fact, I may say – if a trifle immodestly – that, in addition to being the youngest viceroy to be posted here, I believe that I am almost certainly the best equipped, in terms of having studied the history of the region and its problems, both from the perspective of the British government in London and from my many discussions on the ground with people of influence throughout the subcontinent and its neighbours.’

Ah, thought Alice, now the man’s conceit is beginning to reveal itself! But she nodded slowly again and said, ‘Of course. I would certainly be prepared, sir, to concede that.’

‘Very good of you, madam, I am sure. Now,’ he leant forward, ‘from all my studies and conversations, I have formed a firm conclusion that Russia has intentions towards Tibet, if not aggressive militarily, then certainly so in diplomatic terms.’

Alice frowned. ‘But surely Tibet is a vassal state of China, and Russia would certainly not attempt to upset the Manchu Empire?’

‘Oh, I am not speaking of direct invasion. But there is plenty of circumstantial evidence that Russia is attempting to turn Tibet against us. The Tsar’s emissaries are to be seen frequently in Lhasa, I am informed, and more and more stories are reaching me that Moscow
is beginning to arm Tibet. There is even a manufacturing plant being set up in Lhasa, I am told, to produce Russian rifles there.’

‘Why should Russia do all this?’

‘Because it covets India and wants a route through to this country. As you know, Cossacks have left a trail of havoc over the decades riding through Central Asia towards the Indian North-West frontier. They’ve taken the Russian double-headed eagle right up to the northern frontier of Afghanistan. We have called their bluff there and there they have stopped. Now, it is my conviction that they are seeking to find another way in. Tibet is under only a rather lacklustre form of suzerainty from Peking and I sense that the Russians see an opportunity there.’

Scribbling away, Alice spoke without looking up. ‘So what do you propose to do about it?’

‘Well, I intend to put a stop to their little game. We must persuade the Dalai Lama to open up his country to us to counterbalance the Russian threat.’

Alice put her pencil to her mouth. ‘As I understand it, the Tibetans do not wish to establish formal relations with their neighbours. For instance, I have read that the last – and so far only – Englishman to reach Lhasa was in 1811. Their religion promotes a way of life that is contemplative and quite self-contained. China more or less leaves them alone to toddle along in what is virtually a medieval form of living. How would you change this?’

‘Well, certainly not by a heavy-handed invasion. But we do have genuine grievances against the Tibetans, you know. In 1890, a Sikkim–Tibet Convention was concluded with China, whose suzerainty over Tibet we have always recognised. It was followed four years later by
a set of trade regulations. The main purpose of these instruments, as far as we were concerned, was to secure formal Chinese recognition of our paramount rights in Sikkim, bordering Tibet, but they also dealt with matters of commerce, frontier delineation, etc. More tea?’

‘No, thank you.’

Cuzon dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief clearly woven from the finest Egyptian cotton and leant back to ease his vertebrae. ‘You see,’ he continued, wincing slightly, ‘the Tibetans have never formally ratified that treaty. They have just gone on their merry way, ignoring it completely. As a result, grazing rights at the border have been infringed, trade obstructed, boundary pillars overthrown and an illegal tariff imposed on the trickle of goods imported from India.

‘The states that border Tibet – Bhutan, Sikkim and Nepal – are important to us. We, of course, recruit our Gurkhas from Nepal and the other two enjoy an autonomy which is underwritten by treaties with the British government. We are very sensitive to any encroachments by Tibet on these countries. We do not wish even the thinnest end of the wedge to be inserted here.’

Alice nodded. ‘I understand that, but surely Tibet is not really a threat, is it? As I understand it, it is not exactly an aggressive country. On the contrary, in fact.’

Curzon frowned and a slight trace of irritation crossed his face. It was clear that he was not used to being contradicted, particularly by a journalist – and a woman at that! ‘That’s not the point,’ he said. ‘If the Russians are allowed to increase their influence in Lhasa, and without a presence there we have little chance of stopping them doing so, then Tibet, like the leopard, could change its spots. But there is another point. The Dalai Lama has shown great discourtesy to the
British government. I have written to him twice on these matters and both letters have been returned unopened. We can’t be flouted in this way in this region. Our reputation would be harmed.’

Alice stifled a smile. It was clear that he, Lord Curzon, was certainly not used to being treated like that. A case of
lèse majesté,
of course. But perhaps she was being unfair.

‘Of course,’ and she nodded. ‘I quite see that. It would encourage the malcontents in India. But even so, sending in troops … surely a step too far?’

Curzon issued a viceregal sigh. ‘We have no intention of “sending in troops”, as you put it. I proposed to the government back home that we should send a commercial mission to Lhasa to begin negotiations of the widest possible scope, culminating, hopefully, with the appointment of a permanent British representative in that city.’

He paused and his sharp features resumed their air of painful disapproval. ‘My colleagues in Whitehall took, ah, some time to consider this and, in the meantime, Russia protested that it had no designs on Tibet and, indeed, had no treaty concerning it with China. As a result, the government rejected the idea of a trade mission to Lhasa but agreed to my fallback suggestion of opening negotiations with China and Tibet at Khamba Jong, the nearest inhabited town on Tibetan territory to Giaogong, Sikkim’s border town. As a result, as you have pointed out, we sent a frontier commission there, suitably protected, of course, to deter any question of the Tibetans attacking it.’

He forced a smile. ‘I hope all this detail is not boring you, Miss Griffith, but I do feel it important to give you the background.’

‘Oh, good gracious no, sir. I am most grateful to you for your
patience. But now the commission has retreated back to India?’

‘Indeed. It stayed at Khamba Jong – a most godforsaken place, by the way – for five months. We foresaw that negotiations might, er, languish, but I must confess that I did not think that none would take place at all. The Tibetans and the Chinese refused to open any formal negotiations, insisting that the commission must retreat from its soil.’

Alice cleared her throat and smiled at Curzon through her lashes. ‘Perhaps a not unreasonable attitude, since we had entered Tibet without receiving an invitation to do so ….’