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The Unveiling of Lhasa
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258 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 1993
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
October 22, 2024
I read Peter Fleming's Bayonets to Lhasa almost three years ago. Edmund Candler's firsthand account of the Younghusband expedition into Tibet makes a perfect complement to Fleming's work. Whereas Fleming provides detail into the political and military rivalries among the British that hampered Younghusband, with whom Fleming seems to side, Candler's book describes in detail the march from Darjeeling into Tibet and on to the final arrival in the Tibetan capital of Lhasa. Candler was the war correspondent for The Daily Mail and so didn't miss much in describing the hardships, disease, and danger the expedition faced. Except for the one intense battle that took place at Gyantse.
Earlier, Candler had undergone two amputations (without antibiotics, of course) and before the battle was sent back to Darjeeling for medical treatment. As a result, The Unveiling of Lhasa contains two chapters written by an on site British military officer. The chapters serve to highlight just how good of a writer was Candler. In place of Candler's wit, powers of observation, mastery of narrative, and injection of suspense and adventure, the two inserted chapters are rather dry, often tending to becoming lists. The difficulties of the march, the fighting, and the wounds that Candler suffered also serves, I think, to demonstrate just how different are contemporary expectations from those of the late Victorian and Edwardian eras in Britain. People think nothing of marching a score or more of miles per day in contrasting hard and frozen temperatures (by the way, as with almost all historical accounts of the British empire, it will help to remember or be familiar with the Imperial system of measurements). As an aside, I remember reading of an elderly British woman's travels throughout Southeast Asia, and upon stopping at one Asian metropolis in the late nineteenth century, she took off her shoes and went on to walk the 26 miles of the city's perimeter. My usual walk of 3 or 4km per day in a similar Asian setting seems especially tame in comparison.
Candler himself didn't care much for Tibetans, drawing attention to the dirt and repugnant sanitary conditions of Lhasa and its people. Like Kipling, he defends this extension of empire into Tibet as something that will bring enlightenment, science, and progress to a backwards feudal society. While contemporary readers will find his words and attitudes troubling, to spend time worrying about it defeats the purpose of reading for the acquisition of historical knowledge. For Candler's views were not dissimilar to those of his fellow Britons of the time. In fact, he might be overly sympathetic to the Tibetans, in any real comparison. He makes that much clear, when he tries to account for the bravery of Tibetan fighters while insisting his critics are wrong to label him a Tibetan apologist.
Earlier, Candler had undergone two amputations (without antibiotics, of course) and before the battle was sent back to Darjeeling for medical treatment. As a result, The Unveiling of Lhasa contains two chapters written by an on site British military officer. The chapters serve to highlight just how good of a writer was Candler. In place of Candler's wit, powers of observation, mastery of narrative, and injection of suspense and adventure, the two inserted chapters are rather dry, often tending to becoming lists. The difficulties of the march, the fighting, and the wounds that Candler suffered also serves, I think, to demonstrate just how different are contemporary expectations from those of the late Victorian and Edwardian eras in Britain. People think nothing of marching a score or more of miles per day in contrasting hard and frozen temperatures (by the way, as with almost all historical accounts of the British empire, it will help to remember or be familiar with the Imperial system of measurements). As an aside, I remember reading of an elderly British woman's travels throughout Southeast Asia, and upon stopping at one Asian metropolis in the late nineteenth century, she took off her shoes and went on to walk the 26 miles of the city's perimeter. My usual walk of 3 or 4km per day in a similar Asian setting seems especially tame in comparison.
Candler himself didn't care much for Tibetans, drawing attention to the dirt and repugnant sanitary conditions of Lhasa and its people. Like Kipling, he defends this extension of empire into Tibet as something that will bring enlightenment, science, and progress to a backwards feudal society. While contemporary readers will find his words and attitudes troubling, to spend time worrying about it defeats the purpose of reading for the acquisition of historical knowledge. For Candler's views were not dissimilar to those of his fellow Britons of the time. In fact, he might be overly sympathetic to the Tibetans, in any real comparison. He makes that much clear, when he tries to account for the bravery of Tibetan fighters while insisting his critics are wrong to label him a Tibetan apologist.
August 29, 2020
This book is fascinating and disturbing in equal measure. Candler reveals himself to be an imperialist of the most racist, violent and arrogant type imaginable. He justifies the British invasion of Tibet on the proto-Fascist grounds that –
“They must come into line. It is the will of the most evolved.”
His prejudices against Tibetan religion is so extreme as to be almost laughable – “picturesque…in an unwholesome way…a striking resemblance to the Romish church…Dirt and religion are inseparable…the llamas are the most filthy and malodorous folk in the country…”
His racism is extreme even by the standards of the time:
“There is a certain Mongol smell which is the most unpleasant human odour I know…”
The most unpleasant human odour I know is that of an unrepentant imperialist justifying the unjustifiable invasion of a peaceful country – which caused untold suffering to its inhabitants – to counter a supposed Russian threat in the “Great Game” which even he is forced to admit never existed except in Lord Curzon’s fevered imagination.
Despite the horrors of the author’s opinions I found this fascinating. He was personally brave – glossing over the fact that he suffered horrific injuries – including having his left hand lopped off by the sword-wielding fanatic whom he had just rugby-tackled. This doesn’t keep him down for long, though. A couple of chapters of this are written by another journalist while Candler was recovering from his wounds, and it is curious that although they cover the most action-packed events of the invasion they are also much less interestingly written than the rest of the book. Candler may well have been an unprincipled cheerleader for the bloody and illegal actions of Colonel Younghusband and his invasion force, but he was also a fine writer, and one must admit a plucky and adventurous spirit. I was frequently agog and appalled at this, but I was never bored.
“They must come into line. It is the will of the most evolved.”
His prejudices against Tibetan religion is so extreme as to be almost laughable – “picturesque…in an unwholesome way…a striking resemblance to the Romish church…Dirt and religion are inseparable…the llamas are the most filthy and malodorous folk in the country…”
His racism is extreme even by the standards of the time:
“There is a certain Mongol smell which is the most unpleasant human odour I know…”
The most unpleasant human odour I know is that of an unrepentant imperialist justifying the unjustifiable invasion of a peaceful country – which caused untold suffering to its inhabitants – to counter a supposed Russian threat in the “Great Game” which even he is forced to admit never existed except in Lord Curzon’s fevered imagination.
Despite the horrors of the author’s opinions I found this fascinating. He was personally brave – glossing over the fact that he suffered horrific injuries – including having his left hand lopped off by the sword-wielding fanatic whom he had just rugby-tackled. This doesn’t keep him down for long, though. A couple of chapters of this are written by another journalist while Candler was recovering from his wounds, and it is curious that although they cover the most action-packed events of the invasion they are also much less interestingly written than the rest of the book. Candler may well have been an unprincipled cheerleader for the bloody and illegal actions of Colonel Younghusband and his invasion force, but he was also a fine writer, and one must admit a plucky and adventurous spirit. I was frequently agog and appalled at this, but I was never bored.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews