THE COLLAPSE.
China clings to universal sovereignty--Demonstration of same
towards Korea--Irritating to Japanese--Their aspirations in
Korea--Insurrection in southern districts--Chinese troops sent
there--Japanese simultaneously occupy Korean capital--War between
China and Japan--China defeated--Causes and consequences--General
sympathy with Japan.
We have seen that up to the end of 1892 the Chinese Government clung
to the figment of universal sovereignty. Perhaps it was the figment
that clung to them, they not knowing how to drop it. When they had,
under stress, seemed to concede the principle of equality, it was not
done heartily, but to serve a momentary purpose. Like a belligerent
who continues a guerilla warfare after concluding peace, they fought
inch by inch for the rags of the old prerogative after having by
treaty surrendered it. It had been long predicted that their refusal
or inability to bring their theories into agreement with patent facts,
and to come into line with the Powers of the world, must lead to tragic
consequences. Foreign nations laughed at the Chinese pretension as an
innocent archaic survival. But those individuals to whose lot it fell,
in their own persons, to suffer the continued humiliation which was a
consequence of the survival, did not find the comedy of the situation
quite so congenial. The high-spirited nation living in the closest
neighbourhood to China, using its language and literature, was naturally
more galled by the Chinese assumption than those distant peoples who
only suffered in the persons of their diplomatic agents. Though it would
be more than the evidence warrants to say that the pretension of the
Chinese Government was directly provocative of the events of 1894, yet it
is certain that it had a full share in filling the cup. Nowhere had the
Chinese conception of supremacy been exemplified in a more uncompromising
form than in her relations with Korea. Her position as suzerain was a
reality. She had in times past defended her tributary at great cost, had
marked the relationship by permanent monuments, and had maintained the
rites necessary to keep her title alive. As late as 1890 the tributary
formalities were repeated conspicuously before the world. In that year the
"Grand" Queen-Dowager Chao of Korea died. According to custom the king
despatched a messenger to Peking to report the death to his suzerain.
The envoy presented his papers kneeling before the vice-president of the
Board of Rites. He was the bearer of a petition from the king descanting
on the miseries of his country, and expressing regret that, owing to the
straitened circumstances of his Court, he might be unable to carry out
all the ceremonies required for the entertainment of the usual mission
of condolence from the emperor; therefore, as "an infant trusting to the
tender mercies of his parents," the king begged that not a mission, but a
message only, might be returned to him by the hands of his own envoy. The
imperial decree in reply to this petition, while admitting the facts of
the situation as set forth by the king, nevertheless announced that the
customary usage must be maintained, only an important concession would
be made to the poverty of Korea in the route which would be followed by
the new mission. Previous envoys had made the whole journey between the
two capitals by land, and after entering Korean territory they had to
pass many stations in their slow march to the capital, involving much
expense to the country through which they travelled. All this would be
saved on the present occasion by the two commissioners travelling by sea,
and landing at Chemulpo, a few miles only from the capital. The king had
to submit to the modified burden, if such he really considered it. The
ceremonies observed were elaborate and impressive. Frequent prostrations
by Korean officials before the emperor's tablet, and before the Imperial
Commissioners, introduced the proceedings; afterwards the king was taken
charge of by the Chinese master of ceremonies, led through a complicated
ritual, and told to bend, kneel, _kotow_, and stand erect at so many
different stages that the mere reading of the official account of them
is bewildering. The reporter's conclusion gives the gist of the whole
ceremonial from the Chinese point of view: "The emperor's consideration
for his vassal State as evinced by his thoughtfulness in matters
pertaining to the mission is fathomless. How admirable and satisfactory!
And how glorious!"
All this was unexceptionably correct, and in its fantastic way expressed
an actuality not to be contested. Yet to the Japanese, with their
antagonistic policy, we can well understand that this renewed assertion
of the Chinese suzerainty, after the convention of 1885, must have
been highly irritating. Scarcely less so was the superior position
habitually assigned to the Chinese Resident over all the other foreign
representatives at the Korean Court. He alone at all times had the ear
of the king; he was the only one privileged to enter the palace in his
sedan chair, the others having to leave theirs at the gate and walk. While
abstaining from interference in small things, the Chinese Resident did,
in fact, direct the national policy of Korea so far as such a thing could
be said to exist.
As the affairs of Korea formed the occasion, if not the cause, of the
Japanese War in 1894, it might seem desirable to refer once more to
the troubles and misgovernment of that country. To explain them would
be quite impossible, for to say that there are wheels within wheels,
intrigue within intrigue, the whole revolving round a pivot of sordid
corruption, is perhaps the only general account that can be given of the
state of the Government and of its official hierarchy. But the conflict
between China and Japan held on its way through the labyrinth of local
intrigue, and eventually produced a result which, strange to say, seems
never to have been anticipated by any one outside the Government circles
of Japan. The energetic Chinese Resident at the Korean Court may perhaps
have been needlessly ostentatious in asserting the legitimate paramountcy
of China, but the aggression of the Japanese in various parts of the
country, and the extravagant claims they founded upon these aggressions,
really called for a champion of Korean independence, a function which Yuan
Shih-kai[32] filled with considerable ability. The subordination of Korea
to China was nowhere visible except in Court relations. The subjugation
of the peninsula by the Japanese, on the other hand, was rapidly bringing
the population itself into bondage to alien merchants, adventurers, and
usurers, actively supported by their own Government. If they had had
the patience to wait a few years, the Japanese must have won Korea by
energetic infiltration alone.
But these things did not move fast enough for the settled ambition
of Japan, which she with diligence, unanimity, and wonderful secrecy
determined to develop by force of arms. It would be idle to seek for
the causes of the war elsewhere than in this forward national policy
of Japan. Alert as she had been to seize every chance that offered of
detaching Korea from her allegiance to China, her preparations were not
sufficiently complete to justify her unmasking her whole policy until
1894, when the grand opportunity for which she had been waiting, if she
did not actively assist in bringing it about, presented itself. What
proved to be an ill-advised interference of China in the internal affairs
of Korea furnished the occasion. An insurrection had broken out in the
southern part of the peninsula, and the king had no forces to put it
down. Various versions had been circulated of the extent and character of
the insurrection; but when it had continued for some time, and nothing
was done to check it, the advisers of the Chinese Government became
apprehensive of interference by some foreign Power for the restoration of
order. Strangely enough, Japan was the very last quarter from which this
danger was anticipated. The Chinese at length summoned resolution to send
a force to the king's assistance to put down the insurrection, but whether
the king in his heart desired this armed interference it is impossible
for us to say.
Li Hung-chang was personally opposed to any such expedition, and when
goaded to action from Peking, where the bellicose spirit had been
generated, he pointed out that no request had been received from the
king. This omission was also remarked upon by the practical Admiral Ting,
and both may have hoped that the absence of so important a link in the
chain would enable them to avoid the overt action which they had the
best grounds for deprecating. Such a hope, if it existed, was of brief
duration; for the King of Korea was induced, by influences brought to
bear on him, "to place himself in order" and implore his suzerain for
assistance, which the suzerain could no longer withhold. Then was Li
Hung-chang pressed by that body whose characteristic was the negation
of initiative, the Tsungli-Yamên, and like a sluggish horse which once
takes the bit in its teeth, the Yamên became as impatient for action as
in all its previous history it had been resolute in evasion. When but a
few days had elapsed since the issue of the order, and the troops were
not yet embarked, the Ministers, quite ignorant of what was involved in
sending a military force across the sea, began to jeer Li Hung-chang on
his delay, hinting that he was perhaps growing stale with age. The troops
were, nevertheless, despatched all too soon. On their landing at Yashan
in Southern Korea, the insurrection immediately collapsed: such was the
prestige of the imperial authority.
In order to comply with the letter of the Li-Ito convention China
notified Japan officially of the despatch of these troops, some 2000
in all, and of the purpose for which they were sent. But Japan had no
need to wait for any such formal intimation. She had her Intelligence
Department, remarkably alert. Japanese--not perhaps always known as
such--were employed in the Chinese official bureaus, even in the most
confidential departments, while Japanese in disguise swarmed in all the
military centres. The Chinese telegraph service has no secrets from any
one who thinks it worth his while to possess them. Consequently every
detail of the preparation, every point in the discussion, and every step
in embarkation, was punctually telegraphed by the Japanese consul to the
Foreign Office in Tokio. Hence it was that Japanese troops arrived in
Korea simultaneously with the Chinese, only they numbered 10,000 against
2000, and instead of being assigned to the region of the insurrection,
in accordance with the provisions of the Li-Ito convention, they marched
straight to the capital and took possession of the king. The insurrection
having collapsed, the Chinese troops were under orders of withdrawal,
and would have returned home in the same transports that conveyed them to
Korea but for the unaccountable, and of course illegitimate, presence of
Japanese troops at the capital. Notwithstanding the provocation to retain
the Chinese troops in Korea as a counterbalance to those, five times more
numerous, which had been sent by Japan, the Chinese authorities were
advised by their best friends to recall their troops, even though the
Japanese should thereby be apparently left in possession of the field.
The Chinese would in that case have maintained an unassailably correct
position, and Japan would have had to dispense with her pretexts for war.
Evacuation by the Chinese had been actually decided upon, and the steamer
Kowshing was chartered for the purpose of bringing back the troops. Before
the measure was carried out, however, other counsels prevailed, and that
very ship was employed in conveying more troops to reinforce the first
expedition, and in the midst of pretended negotiations for an arrangement
between the two Powers, the Japanese sank the Kowshing on the high sea
with all on board.
It is usual, as a matter of form, if nothing else, to assign some specific
cause for a war; but though many able writers have essayed to explain
the Japanese action in 1894, they have all of them left the question in
greater obscurity than they found it. Nor did the formal declaration of
war by the Mikado throw any light on the subject. A Japanese statesman
being asked what the war was about, replied bluntly, "It is to defeat
China," and the most elaborate exposition of motives or policy does
not carry us perceptibly further than this concise and straightforward
statement. The Chinese Government itself held precisely the same view as
to the object of the war, though its perceptions were so obscured that
it was quite unaware of its incapacity for defence. Neither did it during
the actual progress of hostilities realise the cause of its defeat. Indeed
there is no evidence to show that China has even to this day discovered
the secret of her impotence.
The course and immediate consequence of the war itself have been set forth
in many books, and are so well known as to render it superfluous to enter
into any detail here. A few general points only need be mentioned as a
key to what followed.
1. Russia took unusual pains to dissuade Japan from engaging in the war,
pointing out in clear terms that her interests would not allow her to be
an indifferent spectator of any changes on the continent of Asia.
2. Great Britain next endeavoured to patch up the supposed quarrel--which
could never be defined in words--between China and Japan, and on the
day on which her agent in Tokio expressed himself confident that the
differences, so far as he understood them, would be arranged without
recourse to war, the British chartered transport Kowshing was sunk with
1200 men on board.
3. The solution of the question which would have reconciled the views
of the four Powers more immediately concerned was the neutralisation of
Korea. Great Britain, Russia, and Japan were of one mind on this subject,
and China would have hailed such an escape from her chronic embarrassment
respecting Korea. Why, then, was no attempt made to bring about such a
solution? Want of co-ordination, it would appear; diplomatic paralysis.
Though the views of each Power separately ascertained were identical,
none of them would speak first, and there was no fifth party to assume the
initiative in bringing them to a common understanding. The blame of this
must be equally distributed, though in point of fact there were degrees
of responsibility which it would be useless now to recall. It is only one
example the more of the great gap which often yawns between professional
diplomacy and practical politics.
The issue of the war was a foregone conclusion, both by sea and land.
China had no army, and the more numerous her levies the more helpless
they were before a disciplined enemy. The navy failed precisely where
it was expected to fail. It was an incomplete machine, neglected and
in disorder, deficient in many essential things. Worst of all, there
was no heart in it. Captain Lang, R.N., and other British officers had
been expelled from the service through a conspiracy of the captains in
1890, and thenceforth its deterioration became rapid. The efficiency of
the navy for its main purpose was the last thing considered by the cabal.
They relied absolutely on the diplomatic resources of Li Hung-chang to
save them from any possible trial of strength, and refused to face an
alternative even by way of argument. Bravery was by no means lacking in
the ranks, nor professional education among the officers. There were some
who had Nelson's maxims at the tip of their tongue, and there were some
who added to a thorough naval training the spirit of devotion which makes
heroes. But these qualities were isolated and incoherent; there was no
tradition to render them fruitful, no martial spirit, no disgrace for
the coward, no honour for the valiant. The fleet was a body, defective
enough at that, but without a soul. The minds of the captains being set
on quite other objects than the efficiency of their service, when the
crisis threatened they were intent only on evading collisions. The valour
of the admiral, the fine sense of duty of individual officers, and the
fighting qualities of a considerable body of the seamen, were swamped
in the prevailing pusillanimity of the service; the choice spirits were
discouraged by the fatuous neglect at headquarters to supply the ordinary
necessaries of warfare. It was the writer's fortune to make a passage in a
Chinese protected cruiser in September 1894, a few days before the great
naval action off the Yalu, and it was most pathetic to hear the defects
pointed out by the captain and first lieutenant--defects in ammunition
for the guns mounted, absence of gun crews, so that in action men would
have to be taken from one gun to another and put to work for which they
had no training, everywhere the ship spoiled for want of the ha'porth of
tar. That particular vessel was not disgraced in the Yalu fight, but was
brought into Port Arthur by the superhuman exertions of her officers,
her iron deck beams twisted by the fire and her plates red hot. A second
conversation with the captain and first lieutenant after the action
was but a painful commentary on that of the week before. The one was
prediction, the other fulfilment. Perhaps the state of the navy could not
be more forcibly illustrated than by the fact that the fleet was led into
action at the Yalu by a German military officer.
China was indeed defeated, amid the applause of Europe and the whole
world, and the primeval law of violence received a new consecration. This
is the one outcome of the war which seems likely to leave a permanent
impress on the surface of our civilisation, for the spontaneous outburst
from the four corners of the earth cannot be referred to any venal or
wire-pulling agency. There had been foreign wars in China before, wars
entered upon after long discussion and accumulating causes of quarrel.
Their merits divided the opinion of the world--they divided even the
nations that waged them; and the opposition was on one occasion strong
enough to overturn a British Government that had actually entered into
hostilities against China. But in 1894 there was not a dissentient
voice. The cause of the war was not known and not inquired into, the
universal enthusiasm was simply for the victor, as such, without regard
to anything but his military prowess. That was what the world fell down
and worshipped. Not any righteous cause, or racial sympathy, or community
of interest, inspired their acclamations; for none of these things were
considered or understood by the masses who chorussed the triumph of the
conqueror of China. English pens and tongues beyond all others urged
the victorious Power to make crushing conditions of peace, and in the
clamour traditional landmarks were forgotten. The policy of saving China,
the great English milch cow, from destruction, which had been patiently
followed by Great Britain for forty years, was thus suddenly submerged in
a wave of warlike enthusiasm.
Press-made feeling was both stronger and had more influence on the action
of Government in England than in any other country. The war had upset
the balance of power in Asia, but the press took no heed of that, and
urged with conspicuous success that the Japanese should on no account
be hindered in their seizure of the spoils. Other countries, keeping a
cooler outlook on eventualities, were unable to regard the occupation of
Liao-tung by Japanese forces with the equanimity with which it was viewed
in England, though they made no objection to the enormous indemnities
forced from China, which might indeed be philosophically regarded by
them as a tax levied specially on British trade. Being threatened in her
weakest frontier by this ambitious military Power, Russia had intimated
before war began, in no ambiguous terms, that she could not tolerate
such a neighbour, and on the conclusion of peace she took steps to give
effect to that resolution. Russia had throughout the war been extremely
nervous about the possible action of Great Britain, and would have gone
considerable lengths to come to an understanding with her; but towards
the end, when the pretensions of the Japanese began to assume extravagant
dimensions, their moral effect on the Great Powers enabled her to dispense
with English favour by drawing France and Germany to her support. The
gravity of the Japanese demands was the factor that drew the three Powers
together, and Li Hung-chang, when he went as envoy to Japan in March
1895, assented to the indemnity and the surrender of territory on the
assurance given him that the more excessive the conditions of peace he
might be forced to sign, the more certain were they to be revised by
the intervention of the Powers. The three Powers proved strong enough
to induce Japan to give up Liao-tung for an increased indemnity, and
the future of the Far East thus was arranged in conferences from which
Great Britain had excluded herself. There were several reasons for
the abstention of the British Government from taking a share in this
settlement. One was the complete failure of their Intelligence Department
before, during, and after the war. But the fervour of the nation in
deprecating interference with the Japanese was a sufficient, and no doubt
a welcome, warrant for the inaction of the Government. An experienced
observer of English public life remarked afterwards that he had never
known a situation in which the press, metropolitan and provincial, had
displayed such entire unanimity and lavished such unmixed praise on the
Government for its isolation. And yet it was a unanimity of nescience,
of simple abdication, the surrender of a position in the Far East which
had been built up for two generations on the permanent interests of the
country, and which, sacrificed at the critical moment, is gone beyond
recall. The "new diplomacy," uninstructed popular impulse, never had
a freer field; for the Government which it dominated was scarcely more
enlightened, and decidedly more apathetic, than the nation itself.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: MINISTERS OF THE YAMÊN OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS.
H.E. Shên Kuei-fên.
H.E. Tung Hsün.
H.E. Mao Chang-tsi.
_From a photo by J. Thomson, Grosvenor Street, W._]
FOOTNOTE:
[32] The same who is now governor of Shantung.